Hello everyone. Here is the REAL first chapter. I'm sorry to keep you waiting for so long because I know you've been waiting for this story, but here it is.

Make sure you inform others about this. This fanfic will not be seen immediately on the TF2/OW fanfiction crossover page because it's rated M. Yes, that is for a reason.

There will be sex in this story.

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(Mann Co. headquarters, 1978)

An old woman wearing a purple dress sat behind a large desk with lots of monitors in front of her. She was extinguishing a burnt-out cigarette. It was the sixth one she had smoked that day. She knew it was unwise for her to keep smoking at this rate, but she didn't care. She never pretended that she was some big high-and-mighty physical health advocate. Frankly put, she hated those people. Always trying to get in the way of other people's personal lives. What did they care if she was destroying her lungs with those cancer sticks? They were her lungs, not theirs.

That being said, she did not look happy on this one particular day. She hadn't been happy for quite a few days, as a matter of fact. Something had been bothering her for a long time. She had lots of questions that didn't come with answers, and she was determined to find those answers. She pressed a button on her desk and spoke into a microphone, "Miss Pauling, come up to my office, now." She sat back in her chair, lit up another cigarette and ran her fingers over her keyboard.

Just then, a much younger woman, also wearing purple and with large glasses entered her office. "I'm here, Miss Administrator," she politely said. As opposed to her boss, who was always very stern and unfriendly-sounding, Miss Pauling sounded much more social. She did enjoy the occasional lunch or dinner out with friends, and the once-in-a-lifetime shoe or jewelry shopping run, but she made sure to keep this to a minimum at her new job.

"Any luck finding our mercs?" The Administrator asked, with a cold and very hoarse-sounding voice.

"No…" Miss Pauling said, very slowly and quietly. She knew her boss would not like to hear this, but she always knew her boss would hate it even more if she lied to her

"AARRGH! How could this happen?! Where could they be?! Are you sure you checked with all the authorities?"

"Yes, ma'am. I did. I told the Teufort and Badlands police departments, the entire New Mexico police force, I checked the hospital and the morgue, I called the FBI, the CIA, and even the IRS, just in case any taxes had been filed under their names, but nothing. No one has been able to find a single clue of their whereabouts."

"And you were very descriptive when you said who was missing?"

"Yes, ma'am. I went into broad detail about every single one of them, except Pyro, but nobody knows anything about him. But for the other eight, yes. Believe me, I can't forget Scout's name, attitude, personality, or voice, even if I tried to." She said with slight annoyance, but also a tiny hint of worry.

Naturally, the Administrator was angry, though not at Miss Pauling. She knew she should have fired her security guards as soon as she knew that they were former criminals. But she was also a bit angry at herself, because she didn't think it was possible for anyone to sneak out under her watch. Finally, she asked Miss Pauling, "Do you have any clue about where they could be?" She sounded furious, yet still desperate for any sort of information of their location.

"Well, I do remember some things, but…"

"But what, Miss Pauling? What do you know?"

"I…I don't have a full story, just bits and pieces."

"What? What bits and pieces do you know? I want you to tell me everything you know about this."

"Well…" She paused for a minute, noticing the Administrator's icy glare. "Well, I do remember Engineer talking with someone about something, I don't know what. Could be another job offer. All I heard was something about higher pay and some guy named Winston, and something about a large gorilla, but that's about it."

"Winston? Just Winston? No last name?"

"Not that I know," Miss Pauling shyly said.

The Administrator groaned. That wasn't very much to go on at all. Who the hell was this Winston? And what about higher pay was she talking about? And this gorilla? God, they better not have gotten jobs at the zoo.

"OK, Miss Pauling, I have a theory, which I hope to God almighty is not true. It sounds to me like some zookeeper named Winston offered higher-paying jobs to the mercenaries at his zoo. Call them up and ask them where they are."

"But, miss, that's very-"

"What did you say?!"

Miss Pauling gulped. "Erm…Right away, ma'am." And she left.

The Administrator groaned. How could they do this? Of all the narrow-minded, boneheaded tricks they could have pulled on her, this had to be the one? This band of monkeys that she was training to be killers went and became caged monkeys, working with their fellow primates, the gorillas? This couldn't be true, she thought. She wished it wasn't, even though that would have meant more work for her if she found out that this wasn't what happened to them.

Soon, Miss Pauling came back and said that the local zoo had no one working for them under the names Dell Conagher, Tavish DeGroot, Jeremy Scott, or Dr. Josef Ludwig, even though they did have need of a zoo doctor at that time. They didn't even have anybody named Winston working for them. They had a gorilla named Winston at the zoo (Author's Note: No relation), but that was it.

"UGH! Not again! Where could they be?!" She sat fuming at her desk for a little while longer, then she finally said to Miss Pauling, "Where did you last see them?"

"Um…During that conversation I heard, which was at the RED bunker in 2Fort."

"Good. Go back there and find some clues."

Miss Pauling was surprised. "Clues, ma'am? Like what?"

"I don't know, and I don't care! Find anything there that could be a trace of where they are! And if you find anything, report it back here immediately. I want to get to the bottom of this as quickly as possible!"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll head over there right away." And she left.

The Administrator was beginning to think that these attempts were futile and would lead nowhere. But what kind of ruthless ruler would she be if she just gave up on any case, regardless of how hard it was?
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(Watchpoint: Teufort, 2078).

Teufort, 100 years later, became the new headquarters for Overwatch, following their ousting from their previous base in Gibraltar. It had been abandoned for several years, following the end of the Gravel Wars, of which the RED Team never knew the ending. Of course, Overwatch didn't know that the RED Team previously used this base. In fact, it was their main one. They had several bases all over the world, but they didn't know this, either.

Overwatch had never been the same since two of its' most prominent members, Tracer and D. Va, announced their departure at the end of 2077. There was far less jokes and laughter around the base, and a lot more melancholy feelings and overall unhappiness. It had a very military-like feel to it now. From now on, nobody spoke unless spoken to, and activities like smoking, drinking, and gambling came to an end. Some members even felt miserable. Hanzo and Genji, who now called themselves the "Shame-mada," dropped their pro-honor stance since they felt it was what drove Tracer away from them. Winston and Pharah sorted out their differences, but both felt that now, it was too late.

Speaking of Winston, he was now in his lab, working on a new experiment. He was trying to build a new type of gadget similar to Tracer's old chronal accelerator, which he kept in his lab since she left. Tracer tried to fly away from the old Watchpoint on her old plane, the Slipstream, but had another time-travelling accident, but ironically, it fixed her problem of being scattered across time and put her back together again. Unfortunately, that meant her accelerator no longer worked, and this was another reason why she quit Overwatch. Now, Winston was trying to invent a new type of accelerator which would allow her to control her own time, even when all her body was in the same time.

Winston was confident that he could get it to work. He already made a few prototypes which had failed, but this time he was sure he was on the verge of a breakthrough. He was confident now that it would finally work and thus, Tracer would return to him. However, the rest of Overwatch didn't share his optimism.

Often, someone like Lucio or Junkrat would pop in and say something like, "You're still working on that stupid fake accelerator?"

An agitated Winston would always say, "Yes, I am. You have a problem with that?" Then they would say no, and quickly leave. They had a feeling why he was doing this, but few had the courage to speak to him about it. Winston was usually a very friendly and easy-going guy, but he was someone that you never wanted to see angry, probably because of his usual easygoing demeanor.

But one day Pharah just needed to speak to him about this. One day she walked into his lab. Winston looked up. It was clear that he and Pharah had sorted out their differences with each other.

"Hello, Winston."

"Oh hello, how are you doing?"

"I should be asking you that question," Pharah said. "You've been sitting in this lab for days, barely speaking to anybody else. You're always working on that accelerator for such a long time now, it's been taking your mind off of things that are important around here, like improving our reputation so that the world will trust its' heroes again."

"Well, some things are just a little more important to me right now," Winston huffed.

"More important than Overwatch?" Pharah asked, surprised.

"No, this is Overwatch," Winston retorted. "I have been making this thing to-"

"-To bring Lena back into the fold. I know, I know. Winston, look. She's never coming back. We screwed up big time. She has no reason to ever return now. Not with her new high-paying job."

"But this WILL work, I'm sure of it, Fareah!"

She only sighed. "Winston, after what we did to her, do you honestly believe she'll ever want to return? Even if this thing of yours does work, you won't be able to coax her back here."

"WELL, I HAVE TO TRY!" Winston shouted at the top of his lungs, banging the top so hard that it broke under the force. Pharah flinched and jumped back. Realizing what he did, Winston broke down sobbing. "It's my fault. It's all my fault. Lena was my closest friend. She trusted me so much, and I betrayed her. I just…" He sniffled. "Have to at least try to get heer back. If I don't…That means…I don't care about her at all, which you know isn't true."

Pharah started tearing up herself. It was true that Winston hadn't been taking it well that Lena chose to part ways with them. She understood. As she was partly to blame for it as well, she knew the guilt that Winston felt. "It's not all your fault," she said gently. "I also caused this. I also wish I could have stopped myself from doing what I did to her. But there's nothing we can do now. She's gone. She always wanted to live a happy life with her girlfriend, and now she seems to be doing that. I know it hurts, Winston, but she and D. Va are out of our reach now."

Winston continued sobbing. Pharah held him closely and said, "I know, I know." She was now crying as well. "What kind of parents are we?" Suddenly, she realized what she just said. She and Winston were like parents to Lena. And what do parents do when they've hurt their children? "OK," she said. "Maybe you're right. No harm ever comes from at least trying. Go ahead and do what you were doing." Winston felt better, even after Pharah said to him, "But don't get your hopes up." Still, that was all the encouragement that Winston needed. He resumed work on his new accelerator.

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(Boston, 1978)

It was a dark night outside of one particular suburban house in Boston. Crickets were chirping, some dogs were howling, and a lone car driving off in the distance were the only noise after a masked man's motorcycle engine was shut off. A masked man in a suit got up from his ride and was walking toward the front door of the house. Inside, some boys gathered around the window to see who was outside the house at this time of night. "Boys" was a very loose term to describe them, as they were all legal adults now, with the youngest of the bunch, albeit absent, being 23 years old. The oldest of the group was in his thirties. Despite this, they frequently acted and behaved like they were still a group of rowdy adolescent boys.

These boys were all brothers. They were having a family reunion at their place. They were waiting for their mother and youngest brother to show up, but when the latter didn't, they presumed him dead. Saddened, they raised a glass in his honor, and that was when this man came up to the door. Some of the younger boys didn't know who he was, but some of the older ones did.

"No. No, Jason. It's fine. This man has keys to the house, but he's no one we should be afraid of."

"Are you sure, man?"

"Jay, I've known this man for quite a while."

"But you've never seen him."

"Never seen him often, there's a difference. But I know who he is, and I know he's not here to do any harm to us. He is our dad."

These words shocked everyone around. "Our dad?" Jasper shouted. "But…We've never known our dad. How do you know it's him?"

"I've seen him with ma in the bedroom getting…" He trailed off right there. He wasn't sure how to correctly word his next phrase. "Getting it on. But that's not important! OK, yes it is, but I can reassure you, that I know for sure that this man is our dad! Trust me on this! Have I ever led any of you wrong before? Seriously, have I, Jordan Scott, in all the years I've known the rest of you, ever led you astray?"

"Well, there was that one time in Brooklyn…"

"ASIDE FROM THAT!"

"Look guys," Jacob said. "Let's just trust him on this. If this is some murdered who's here to kill us, I think we can all stand up for ourselves easily, can't we?"

"Well, yeah…" Jason said, with some uncertainty.

"Hell yeah!" Jack said. "Jacob can easily take him out with his homemade noxious gas!" Everyone around laughed, except for you-know-who.

Just then, the door opened and everyone fell silent. The man stood before the boys for a moment. Then he took off his mask, and simply said, in a strong French accent, "Hello, my sons."

Jordan shot the other brothers a look that said, See? I was right, wasn't I? He then turned to this man and said, "Hello…father…"

"Oh, stop with the courtesies. You shouldn't be nice to me, since I left you alone for many years."

"OK. Hi dad. We're kinda surprised to see you here."

"I understand. After many years away, I can see why it would be a surprise that I would one day pop in unannounced.

Now, I believe that you are Jordan, correct?"

"Yes, that is my name."

"Forgive me. As your father, it is my responsibility to know the names of all my heirs. Sadly, I have fallen behind in that category, and I hope I can redeem myself before too long. And I believe your name is Jack?" He asked, pointing to the 30-year-old turtleneck-wearing man with the moustache, who nodded.

"And your names are Jared, Jacob, Jesse, Jasper, and you are…don't tell me…I know this off the tip of my tongue…"

"My name's Jason, man."

"Jason! I knew it was somewhere around that ballpark.

Well, it looks like all of you are here. Well, almost all of you. If I am not mistaken, there is one missing here."

The brothers looked glum again. Then Jack spoke up, "Yes father. There is. Jeremy, our youngest, is dead, and it's all our faults."

"Oh, so you do care about your own brother after all," The French man said with a hint of contempt in his voice.

"Yes, dad. We're sorry for what we did to him. We didn't treat him as our own brother. And now he's dead, and we'll never see him again."

The man simply said, "Hmmm….I never got the impression that any of you were particularly bright, but I don't think anything you just said was true."

The brothers felt a little bit insulted from hearing that, but all Jordan said was, "What are you talking about? And how did you know about our youngest bro and how we treated him?"

"When you build up trust with people, they will relay their most valued and vulnerable secrets to you, which can be either good or bad, depending on who they share them with. Fortunately, I am not one to exploit my own children's sadness and fears."

"Hang on, stop right there!" Jesse shouted. "You were with Jeremy? Where?! When?! What happened to him?!"

"Calm down," The man said. "First of all, it may interest all of you to know that your brother is alive and well."

Everyone was shocked to hear this. "But…But…It can't be," Jordan said. "That's not possible! We looked everywhere for him! We contacted the Feds, the cops, the hospital-"

"They don't provide really useful information for people who have travelled into the future, I'm afraid."

"Hold on, back up!" Jasper shouted. "Are you saying that Jeremy has time travelled?"

"Yeah, like…Doctor Who-style?" Jacob said.

"Yes, Jeremy is alive, and he is in the future. That's why you all couldn't find him. I know this because I was in the future with him. And from what I hear, he's doing fine now."

The brothers suddenly felt a surge of excitement. My God, Jeremy is alive. It's not too late to redeem ourselves… "Well, can we meet him? Where is he? We need to talk to him and make him one of us again!"

"I said, calm down! And yes, you will get to see him again. In fact, you'll be a little surprised to hear what he has been up to lately…"

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"Blimey, Jeremy, you were right!"

"Of course I am! I told you that you just have to be cool and confident and don't forget to keep time on those drums, then you're pretty much unstoppable!"

Jeremy Scott and his bandmates were walking off the stage at the Crystal Ballroom in Portland, Oregon, where the band made their live debut.

It was now May 2078. This was the first time since December 23 last year that Jeremy had performed a show in front of a live audience, and the first show he played at backed by a full band. The band consisted of him singing lead and playing guitar, his girlfriend – Hana Song – on keyboards, his former crush Lena Oxton on drums, and her girlfriend Emily on bass guitar. For a few months, Jeremy took time off to train the girls on the instruments that they would be playing in his band. People were upset with this at first, since Jeremy had become somewhat of a celebrity around the Portland area, but when he announced his return to the stage – this time with a band instead of simply a solo acoustic act – He was met with a round of applause. Originally, Song wasn't part of the group's lineup, and the band was called The Jeremy Scott Experience. But after she decided to join, they decided they needed to change their name, so their new band became Red Watch.

Right now, Red Watch had just played a long and exhaustive show at the Crystal Ballroom and were looking forward to some nice cold beers to celebrate their debut performance. They felt very good about themselves, especially since the three girls – With no prior musical experience – were unsure about themselves and were sure that they would just be laughed and booed at during their show. But as it went on, they built up confidence in themselves and by the time it ended, they were confident that they could have done it blindfolded.

Indeed, people liked the new band. People went up to them, asking for autographs and pictures to post on their social media pages. The band happily obliged.

After they were finished drinking and taking autographs and pictures, Red Watch loaded up their van – which Jeremy just bought, to haul all their gear around – And drove back out to Cannon Beach, their new home.

After Christmas, Lena and Emily did some house-hunting around the Cannon Beach area, and found a nice house just a few miles away from Jeremy's estate, which was right next to the beach. The house they visited wasn't as big and fancy as Jeremy's was, but it still had a lot to offer, even more so than their current London residence. This new house was said to house up to sixteen people. It had four bedrooms, two dining rooms, an office, a TV room, and a room with a pool table and a bar. But what really topped it off for the girls was their master bedroom. It came complete with a king-size bed with fresh cotton sheets, and a nice marble-floored bathroom with two sinks and a bathtub with motor jets that was large enough for four people. That sold them. They bought the house, and, with Jeremy and Hana helping them, they sold their house in London, bought this new one in Cannon Beach, and moved all their belongings in. They loved that now, they would be living close to Jeremy, which they had wanted to do for a long time.

One thing Lena wasn't too fond of: The immigration policies. Because she was born outside the United States, the federal authorities treated them like criminals, even though they had done nothing wrong. "Immigration in the US is a bitch, I know," Jeremy said.

Not only them, but also Hana. She and Jeremy decided that she would sell her Korean residence and move into his beach house. They decided that if they were truly going to be a couple, then they should start living together. Both were completely down for that idea. She moved all her things into his house. He made space for all of it, even her Overwatch gear. She bought a glass display case and kept her OW armor locked inside. It was placed right next to another glass case in the house, which had Jeremy's RED Team setup inside. She also brought her pink mecha over to the US with her, but she knew she would never use it again. Jeremy bought a garden shed and placed it in the backyard for her to leave it in. She oiled and greased it one last time, put a large sheet over it, and locked it up. That truly marked the end of her Overwatch era.

Now she was in a band, playing keyboards with her boyfriend and her best Overwatch friend. Five years ago, or even just one, she would never have imagined herself doing this. But here she was now, up on stage and jamming out on a synthesizer. But what really hit home for her was the standing ovation she got. After finishing this performance, she felt so happy that for once, people wanted to see her, and not just to throw tomatoes at her and call her a monster who ruins everything good in this world, like she got with Overwatch. But now, none of that mattered. This was her life now, and she was determined to enjoy it. The same went for Lena and Emily.

As they drove home to the beach, the temperature was beginning to spike. It had just passed ninety degrees Fahrenheit (This new measuring system was one that the girls weren't used to, so Jeremy clarified that it was thirty Celsius, which was very hot), and it was expected to get even hotter as the day progressed. The van was nice and air-conditioned, but everyone knew that as soon as they stepped out, they would start sweating again. And with sweat, came some certain urges, they knew. They were determined to resist those urges.

But it wouldn't be easy.

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Well, that's it for this first chapter. I know it's very short, but remember right now, I'm just setting things up. I'm not doing any hardcore humor, action or even storytelling at this point. This is meant to be more like a prologue to the whole story.

Shout out to Spectator 3152 for suggesting the title of the story.

Hope to post the next chapter up soon.