Bringing The Arsenal: Overwatch

Chapter One: Origins

Life cannot get any worse for me ever since Overwatch disbanded. Without a international peacekeeping group keeping things in check, criminal organizations started to take advantage by spreading misery and violence all across the country. It became too frightening to enjoy a simple life now without Overwatch. I figured I could solve the problem for my community by taking out crime that lurked in my hometown. The problem was, I had little to no affiliation with Overwatch or own advanced tech or weapons, which made me a nobody.

The only thing close to somebody is my past. I served in the Navy SEALs during the late Silver Age of Overwatch, when the world was picking up the pieces from the Omnic Crisis. However, I was selected to join a squad made up of the best operators from SEAL Team Six and Delta Force to enforce America's international policy of containing global peace.

In The Unit, I made some crazy attachments and mods for my weapons as a hobby. I created projects like a sleeve pistol, a chainsaw as a bayonet of a M4-A1 rifle, and silencer improvised with a water bottle. I drew out designs to weapons like a SMG that can decrease the recoil over time, and a double barrel pistol. It made me stand out amongst my mates. However, I didn't want to stay in combat for most of my life, I wanted to leave it behind to get away from the violence and pain I endured.

When I returned home, I saw the violence of crime and terror still lingered in parts of the world, more importantly, my home. My home became a safe haven for powerful weapons to be sold on the streets. I started cleaning the weapon trade that is happening in my hometown to make it safe for everyone to live. I realize going against the cartel can be dangerous. Then again, living in constant violence didn't help me much.

The crusade started with simple neighborhood watch, going around and report anyone that try to start up deals on the street to the police. That wasn't enough damage to put into as I noticed how big the situation was. Gangs locally are buying weapons at a fixed price from smugglers that are operating in many parts of the country. They use the weapons to shoot or intimidate law enforcement.

Realizing there is no one else that can help me out, I attacked places that housed local dealers with weapons given by smugglers to sell on the streets locally.

The first assault began with me in a simple balaclava mask, a 9mm pistol, and my military training. I was nervous as I realized I forgot one thing, I've never done a home invasion before. I fumbled into my pockets as a reaction to my anxiety. I felt something, I pulled out and found wireless headphones. Of course, playing some music would help me ease my stress. I pulled out my phone and selected the song Knock Knock by "Scattle" at a low volume. It reduced my stress greatly, to act like a signal to go into action.

The target was a house, a black weak structure that is collapsing to the earth at every second. I moved in from the side door and began hunting. I walked into the kitchen, a small room with four chairs, a table, and a stove on my left. A guy saw me from the living room and pulled out a gun. I was quick to react and shot him the chest. As the shot echoed to the room, I hear someone loading a shotgun and making it's way to the kitchen upstairs. I opened the door and shot him in the head. The big guy dropped the weapon and rolled down the stairs like a rag doll. I head down to the basement and found a crate.

Using a crowbar near by, I propped the lid open to find a heavy machine buried among a pile of toys. The basement was more of a workshop by the sight of weapons and wooden crates. I had the idea of reporting all of it to the police. But will I be held responsible for breaking into a house and killing two people? That thought of consideration made me turn off the phone and did some standard investigation, I spotted the logo on the crate. A emblem followed with a row of guns resembling the shape of wings with a name at the bottom "The Black Badge".

Later research showed that the Black Badge is a gun smuggling group operating in the eastern part of the U.S as it's competitor, The Deadlock Rebels, operated in the west. It came to mind that these weapons could be more powerful than any local weapons store. I decided to take action and moved the crates from the basement and stored them into my van. I figured I would need some heavy fire power in order to be able to stand a chance against them. That day began my urge to become the most well armed vigilante on the planet.

The next morning, I walked outside to pickup the paper. As I got near the front door to head out, I hear screeching of tires and saw a white SUV slowing down to my side of the street. On instinct, I quickly hit the floor in the house as a drive-by shredded the building with bullets. After time went by, the van roared out of the neighborhood. I realized that they will come back for me until I was gone for good. I decided to pack my things, sell the house, load the stolen weapons into my van, and left my hometown for good. I drove some great distance finding a place to hide.

After four hours of driving in the middle of nowhere, I spotted a storage facility out in the docks. I pulled in and began looking around the place. The place was a empty hollow shell filled with dust, storage crates, a pile of scrap metal, and a row of rusty lockets. I spotted a office, a room above the storage floor connected by a series of stairs. I placed my stuff at the office and opened a window. Looking at the crates of weapons on the ground floor, it felt like it can be a great place to set to start my adventure of toppling the Black Badge and to control all of the powerful weapons these criminals are after.

*Time skip*

The HQ became a second home in a matter of time. I had a kitchen, a workshop to modify my guns, a firing range, a weapon skin studio, and a locker room. Looking at my load-out, I created some unique fire arms, weapon parts, and skins. I have created weapons no one has even dared to go for. As a result of my relentless raids on the Black Badge, I'm called The Arsenal by the local media. I get a tip from a anonymous source saying that a crate of weapons have been delivered to a certain address. I put on my gear, grab my M4-A1 and head to the black van for another weapon heist.

A/N Thank you to anyone who made it this far. This is my first fanfiction story, although I am excited to continue regardless. If you love this so far, vote. Feel free to send any comments on how to make it better or any future ideas. Mind the grammar and spelling, I may not be a professional, but I want to continue this story. Thanks again and I will talk to you guys later.