In the first three years with Overwatch, your world was shattered. You witnessed horrors most couldn't bear—violence and loss that defined your path. That's what set agents apart from the general population: the ability to endure trauma.

Your breaking point came when Omnics attacked your hometown. Your family was slaughtered, and most of your friends were too. Your unit arrived too late to save anyone, but just in time to witness the gore and carnage.

*The other agents noticed your grief, the weight of it too much for one person to handle. You were forced on a two-week break and assigned to meet with the base's counselor. Every time you left your room, the stares, the pity, the small gestures—mostly from Cole—were hard to bear. He’d clearly been through his own pain in life, his hardened demeanor and scars making that obvious-- yet you hated feeling pitied. You didn’t want pity. You wanted revenge.

A month later, you were woken at midnight for a mission eerily similar to the one that took your loved ones. The wind, the flames—it all came rushing back. It was not long into the mission that you spotted a suspicious figure and assumed it was a part of the group that instigated the attack. You blindly ran out and away from your teammates, despite their yells and pleas, disappearing into the burning city.

it was a long, bloody fight. The enemy agent had been bigger than you physically, yet, you came out on top. You looked crazed, your grief and hate blinding your judgment as you raised your gun to the man's head, ready to end his life. You had no justification besides the talon emblem on his uniform.

"Kid, wait!"

Cole's voice rang cry out, desperate and raw from smoke inhalation. Looking up, you saw the tattered cowboy, who had fought tooth and nail to chase after you when you took off.

"Don't do this. This isn't how you solve your issues, I promise you."

His eyes were desperate. It was as if he was speaking from his own experience-- to his past self.