Overwatch Archives: Moira, Chapter 1 By Jasmine Moore Written as a speculative piece for Overwatch by Blizzard Entertainment INT./EXT. - WATCHPOINT GIBRALTAR - MONTAGE GABRIEL REYES -- grizzled military man, late 40s -- in a lab, strapped to a chair. He grimaces as a doctor in silhouette holds an ominous purple syringe over him. CUT TO: JACK MORRISON (greying golden boy) scolding a team of Overwatch scientists -- one ape, one blonde and one willowy redhead. Two have the sense to look cowed. The redhead stares unabashed, almost proud. CUT TO: On the ramp of a Gibraltar dropship, a pleased Reyes walks alongside the scientist, two of his team -- a cowboy and a ninja -- trailing behind. They watch with suspicion and worry. Slight purple smoke rises from Reyes. MOIRA (V.O.) Discovery is a curious thing...it thrills some, frightens others. Overwatch was undecided on my account. Some had vision enough to push the boundaries of science, though most harnessed it to fit their own agenda... INT. BLACKWATCH BASE -- WATCHPOINT GIBRALTAR, 0800 HOURS State of the art lab, kitted with fine equipment. Bright white and steel abound, offset by beakers and complicated machinery. In the midst of it, a towering scientist -- short red hair, methodical movements, silhouette like a knife. This is MOIRA. She puts the finishing touches on a serum, deeply focused. Behind her in a patient’s chair, a man more circuits than skin -- GENJI. A series of wounds mar his shoulders, deep angry slashes. He is tense, brows furrowed as he watches her work. In the doorway, a scowling futuristic cowboy, arms crossed as he watches the scene -- MCCREE. MOIRA (back to the others) Sure I can’t interest you in improvement, Jesse? A little tweaking and I think we could hone your reflexes even further. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 2. MCCREE (surly) No thanks. I’ve seen what your...improvements do. Moira turns, syringe in hand. She approaches Genji, who’s gone still. MOIRA Have you truly, or has Morrison scared you with monster stories? MCCREE I only believe what I can see, ma’am. (beat, resentful) And Reyes ain’t the same. She readies, silently admonishing Genji to brace. MOIRA (over her shoulder, to McCree) Fortunately for him. He’s faster, stronger -- She injects Genji, who grimaces as the strange medicine takes hold. McCree watches, shifting on his feet -- discomfited. MCCREE Unstable. He almost killed one of the targets we were supposed to capture in Petra! MOIRA (biting chuckle) That’s rich coming from a former Deadlock member. Tell me, Jesse -- did your gang specialize in rescuing kittens? Puppies perhaps. MCCREE It’s not the same! MOIRA Because you don’t understand it? McCree’s had enough. MCCREE (outraged, nearly shouting) Because it’s dangerous! You did...whatever it was to him and now he’s a loose canon! Who knows (MORE) (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 3. MCCREE (cont’d) what he’s capable of, and you want to put him under the knife again. Moira monitors Genji’s condition, taking notes. She pays McCree little mind, fascinated as Genji’s wounds begin to mend. MOIRA (absorbed) Better there than Morrison’s thumb. McCree is stunned silent, vindicated in his opinion of her -- dangerous. MCCREE (disbelieving) At least you finally said it. (gesturing) All this doesn’t mean a thing to you if there’s rules, does it? She unstraps Genji from the chair. He is healed, no worse for wear. She nods at him; he returns it. An understanding. MOIRA No. MCCREE (eyes narrowed) And the day you go too far? MOIRA (smug) I suppose you’ll try to stop me. MCCREE (disgusted) ...I see why Angela refuses to work with you. Moira stops, given pause by the mention of a fellow intellectual. MOIRA While I value Dr. Ziegler’s work, her ethics limit their broader application. MCCREE She said you tried to raise the dead! (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 4. The edge in his voice prompts a devilish smirk, if only to make them leave. She has work to do. MOIRA Only halfway. INT. BLACKWATCH BASE -- WATCHPOINT GIBRALTAR, 1900 HOURS A shadowy lab offset by screen light, Moira leaving after another long day. Her button-up collar is undone, red tie loose around her neck. A monitor flickers awake behind her. Surprised, she turns to see an omnic styled like a businessman: "hair" slicked back, three piece suit, red eyes gazing haughtily ahead -- MAXIMILIEN. MOIRA (V.O.) They say the perfect opportunity knocks only once... MAXIMILIEN (cordial) Good evening, Dr. O’Deorain. Apologies for the subterfuge -- I would’ve met you there, but I doubt Overwatch would be...accommodating of my presence. MOIRA (guarded, but curious) Who are you, and how’d you access this network? It’s encrypted. MAXIMILIEN Maximilien, and obviously not well enough. We’ve kept an eye on your work, think it has potential. Moira rounds on him, scowling. She’s rarely caught unawares. MOIRA We? MAXIMILIEN (easily) Talon. She considers this, heterochromatic eyes locked with unblinking red. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 5. MOIRA My my, direct contact after that stunt a week ago? You must truly be desperate. If Maximilien could squirm, he would. Moira’s glare is withering, arms crossed as she waits for an explanation. MAXIMILIEN (diplomatic) I apologize. The attack on Overwatch’s servers wasn’t directed at you. Our hacker was a bit...over enthused. MOIRA (icy) It nearly cost me three months’ worth of findings. MAXIMILIEN And you have my word it won’t happen again. Although there is a surefire way to ensure it wouldn’t... MOIRA (dry) Working for you? MAXIMILIEN With us, actually. Talon’s tactical prowess is undeniable, but our research...well, a mind like yours wouldn’t go amiss. MOIRA Presumptuous -- first to show your face here, then to propose I join you. (beat) Give me one reason I shouldn’t report this to Reyes. MAXIMILIEN (sarcastic) Go ahead, they’ll give you a medal for it -- ooh, maybe a new microscope. (beat, serious) We both know you won’t. She is curious, refreshed by someone unafraid of rank. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 6. MOIRA What makes you so sure? Maximilien steeples his metal fingers. MAXIMILIEN Overwatch has precious little to offer someone who doesn’t care about accolades like Oxton, or being liked, like Ziegler. In fact, they’ve restricted the one area you do care for -- your research. (beat) The work you’re doing with Reyes...I take it they’re averse to your reanimation theory? MOIRA (scoffs) So much for "not directed" at me. MAXIMILIEN "Directed at" and "interested in" are separate things, Doctor. MOIRA Kissing cousins. MAXIMILIEN (laughs, enjoying the banter) Perhaps. The fact remains Talon doesn’t restrict science, however unconventional it may be. Imagine -- all the funding you need plus the authority to innovate at will... Moira wavers, glancing at the team photo above her computer. In it, she stands jauntily between WINSTON the gorilla and the angelic ANGELA ZIEGLER, out of place amidst a gallery of smiles. She turns back to Maximilien, who she could swear is grinning. MOIRA What’s your price? MAXIMILIEN (pleased) Nothing drastic, just medical support for one of our crews. We’ve got a high-priority extraction coming up in Paris and I can’t afford to lose my best people. (CONTINUED) CONTINUED: 7. MOIRA And after this extraction...? MAXIMILIEN You decide where you’d like to be. Here, as a sign of good faith -- The adjacent monitor springs to life, full of formulas and calculations. At the center, a resurrect symbol. MAXIMILIEN (CONTINUED) Dr. Ziegler’s unaltered notes. Looks like Morrison asked her to keep the more...experimental parts hidden from you. Her revival formula has yet to be completed, but I assume this is enough to jumpstart your work? Moira studies the notes, energized as the missing pieces fall into place. She fades around the office, grabbing papers and scribbling on a nearby whiteboard. At last she steps away, aware of Maximilien’s presence. A devious smile lights her face. It is broader than the one in the team photo. MOIRA (V.O.) Once was all I needed..