The air outside Geneva carried a strange stillness. For once, there wasn't a battlefield to rush toward. Instead, the skies were a pale autumn blue, empty except for the flocks of doves kept caged nearby, soon to be released. It felt foreign peace had always been a rumor, never a reality. Yet here I was, standing in uniform outside the newly rebuilt Overwatch headquarters, my chest heavy with anticipation, nerves, and something else I couldn't quite name.
They had remade the headquarters from the ground up. Where shattered walls and scorched towers once stood, sleek steel and glass now reached toward the sky. The plaza stretched wide before the entrance, freshly laid stone polished until it mirrored the morning light. At the center, covered beneath a massive white drape, stood the monument. I hadn't seen it unveiled yet, but I knew what was carved there: the names of every soul lost to the Omnic Crisis. Millions of them. I dreaded that moment, the recognition, the reminder.
Crowds had gathered already. Soldiers in formal dress uniforms, politicians in their suits and cultural regalia, civilians holding flags of their nations, and omnics of every design standing shoulder to shoulder. Hard-light banners shimmered across the square, displaying Overwatch's insignia, and floating drones hummed above, ready to broadcast this ceremony across the entire world. For the first time in years, the world was not watching for news of death. Today, it was here for a rebirth.
And yet my stomach was tied in knots. A part of me had wanted the break from killing, from bleeding, from watching others fall around me. Another part had hated myself for it. And now here I stood, supposedly being honored, promoted, celebrated. Did I deserve it? I wasn't sure. The war had definitely changed me.
"Medical Specialist Shawn Rose," someone barked.
I turned to find General Adebayo M'Kali approaching in his dark green dress uniform, medals glittering across his chest. His face was carved from stone, but his eyes softened when they landed on me.
"You clean up well," he said. "Almost unrecognizable without blood and dust."
I gave him a tired smile. "I almost don't recognize myself either."
He clapped a hand on my shoulder, firm enough to remind me of the weight of the day. "Enjoy this moment, Rose. The world does not give them often. After today, it will be back to work."
I nodded, though deep down I knew the work never stopped. Not for me.
Behind me, my team gathered, the original Thorns. Spencer, Virginia, Sonya, Dwayne, Steve, Felix, Marco, and Leslie. All of them stood straighter than I'd ever seen, their uniforms crisp, their expressions carrying a mix of nerves and pride. They had been told they'd be promoted to Corporal today. For some of them, it was their first ceremony that wasn't just a funeral.
"You all look ridiculous," I said under my breath.
Felix smirked. "Says the guy in the shiny new coat."
I tugged at the fresh trim on my uniform jacket. They weren't wrong.
The plaza filled with silence as the choir took its place at the front. Children, human and omnic alike, lined up in rows, their voices rising together in harmony. They sang a song stitched from verses of a dozen languages, woven into something haunting and beautiful.
I felt it in my chest. The weight of voices too young to have fought, yet born into a world already at war. Their song carried grief, but also promise. The kind of sound you wanted to believe in, even if you didn't think you could.
When their final note faded, Adawe herself stepped forward.
"Today," she began, her voice amplified across the plaza and the world, "we do not celebrate victory. For in war, there is no victory, only survival. Today, we honor the fallen. We honor the millions who gave their lives, soldiers, medics, civilians, and omnics, all who endured the fire so that we may stand here, free."
She gestured, and attendants pulled the drape away from the monument. The breath caught in my throat.
The monument wasn't a statue, as I had imagined. It was a wall, massive, sweeping, rising taller than any man. Across its black stone surface, names glimmered in etched silver light. Endless names. Too many. The wall curved into a circle, wrapping around the plaza like arms pulling the world into remembrance. Holo- projectors above displayed testimonies from survivors: a woman speaking about her lost husband, a child remembering her father, an omnic recalling the moment it chose to shield a human from fire.
And in the middle of the wall, at its heart, burned the words:
"Never Again."
I swallowed hard, searching for names I knew. It didn't take long.
Spencer's brother. Virginia's cousin. Sonya's childhood friend. So many more. And names that should have included mine, but didn't. My chest tightened. Survivor's guilt had a way of clawing back up no matter how many times you buried it.
At Adawe's signal, handlers opened the cages, and a flood of white wings soared into the sky. Doves circled above the plaza, their flight mirrored by holo- light lanterns rising on currents of air. Nations' flags rose beside them, each one lifting in the wind until they framed the monument in color. For a brief moment, the square seemed suspended outside of time. I caught myself holding my breath.
The choir stepped back. Adawe remained at the front, her expression solemn but steady.
"Overwatch is reborn," she declared. "And it must have leaders worthy of its charge."
She called Jack Morrison forward. Jack stepped out in full dress blues, his jaw tight, his eyes scanning the horizon like he was already plotting the next war.
"Jack Morrison," Adawe said, "you have carried the weight of this war on your shoulders. You have led men and women into fire, and you have carried them home. Today, the nations of the world appoint you Strike Commander of Overwatch. You will answer only to me, and together we will rebuild not just this organization, but the trust of the world."
Applause thundered. Jack saluted crisply, but I could see in his eyes that the burden had only grown heavier.
The promotions lasted for an hour. Different men, women, and omnics getting their much deserved promotions for their efforts during the war. Then Adawe turned her gaze on me.
"Shawn Rose," she called.
My legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds as I walked forward.
"You entered this war as a healer. You became more than that. You became a shield, a blade, a leader to those who followed you. Today, you are promoted to Staff Sergeant. Your courage, and the courage of your unit, has earned this recognition."
I saluted, my throat dry. Behind me, the Thorns stepped forward as their names were called. Each was promoted to Corporal. Watching them stand there, straight-backed and proud, I felt something loosen in my chest. If anyone deserved recognition, it was them.
The applause swelled again, and for the first time in months, I let myself smile.
The applause dimmed as Reinhardt Wilhelm lumbered toward the podium. His armor had been polished to a mirror shine, his cape crimson against the pale sky. Even in dress uniform, he seemed to carry the battlefield with him.
He took the podium, placed both hands on it, and leaned forward.
"My friends," he began, his booming voice rolling across the plaza, "we stand here not as conquerors, but as survivors. We have seen the darkest days. We have buried too many brothers and sisters. And yet, here we are. Together."
He paused, his eyes sweeping across the monument, his face trembling just enough for me to see it.
"I have fought many battles. I have held the line until my shield broke and my bones cracked. But nothing is harder than remembering those we could not save. To the families who stand here today: know this. Your loved ones did not fall in vain. Their names are carved here forever. Their sacrifice built the ground we now walk upon."
He raised a fist.
"But now we must look forward! The war is over, yes, but the work of peace has only begun. We must rebuild! We must protect! And we must never, ever forget what we have endured."
His voice climbed higher, louder, until it was no longer just speech but battle cry.
"Overwatch lives! Humanity lives! And together, we will carry the flame into the future!"
The plaza erupted. Flags waved, voices cheered, omnics raised their arms in solidarity. For a heartbeat, it felt like the world was one again.
As the ceremony drew to a close, I slipped away from the crowd. I found myself standing before the monument again, tracing my fingers over the etched names. My own reflection stared back at me from the polished stone, a survivor's face I barely recognized.
It could have been me on that wall. More than once. But it wasn't.
And that meant I had work left to do.
The world would celebrate peace today. They would sing and cheer and raise flags. But I knew better. Talon was still out there, lurking in the shadows, pulling strings.
I clenched my fist, pressing it against the wall, as my hand traced the one name I wasn't prepared to see on it. S3bastian.
"For you," I whispered to the names. "For all of you. I'll keep fighting."
And when I turned back to the plaza, doves still circling high above, I forced myself to believe, if only for today, that peace was possible.