Overwatch: Rise of Rose

Shawn POV: 

Thankfully, S3bastian was still on his own mission, which meant he wouldn't be a bad influence on my soon-to-be team. First impressions and all that. I was given three days as they had to gather those that were interested in being on my team, which allowed me to think on what I wanted my own team to do. At first, I wanted to just teach them everything I knew about healing, but by the second day, I realized something important.

I was different. My healing was structured around the fact of my powers, which was something I couldn't teach them. However, I knew there were ways that they could do what I did. But it would require them to undergo strenuous training in both the mind and body. Something that not everyone is willing to go through. No matter, they were in my hands and if they couldn't handle a little training that would make them super healers, then their priorities weren't straight. 

From that moment, a clear vision of my team was formed. The Rose Rescue Specialist. I would have a month before being deployed to train a team that aligned itself with my purpose. Which I would drill into them. Hmmm. Maybe once S3bastian returned, we could get a good cop bad cop thing going. 

The next day, I heard a stratoscopter had arrived, carrying my victims... I mean students. I was dressed in the standard Overwatch medical uniform, but a request for a custom-made uniform was put in. I watched as eight people made their way off the plane and instantly spied me. I could feel their excitement and nervousness as they headed over to me. Soon, it would be replaced with fear. 

They stand in formation, as someone carries their belongings off to their rooms. It would be mean of me to have them train on the first day, therefore, I just wanted to give them the premise of the pain that they'll be going through. I look at their young faces, memorizing their looks of hope and excitement before it's gone forever. They were obviously new medical students, a blank canvas ready to be painted. 

"Good afternoon, everyone." 

"Good afternoon, Medical Specialist Rose." They say in unison. 

"Don't bother introducing yourselves. From now on, until I think otherwise, you are all just numbers 1 through 8. Once you've earned it, your names will be given back to you." 

Looks of confusion run through the group as one young lady raises her hand. "Yes number 4." Hearing that, she gives a look of annoyance for a brief moment before recovering her face and asking her question.

"But why is that sir? I'm sure that all... well... most of us have noticeable accomplishments in the medical field. A lot of us were the top of our classes." She says, which earns nods of approval from her peers.

"Ah. You did your research on your peer. Good for you. The answer is simple. They don't care."

They look at each other as I can feel their rising anger at being told their accomplishments didn't matter. It was a natural reaction after all.

"Who doesn't care you might ask? The enemy. They see you all as just data values, numbers 1 through 8. 8 bullets. They don't care who you are, much less what you've done. They can't be reasoned with, as they follow orders to the letter. If they're told to kill everyone in the perimeter, they damn well will do it. Do you think you'll survive if you flash your medical degree at them and say you have a use?" 

I pause as I let those words sink in. Sure enough, reality does show to hit their faces as they realize that I'm right. They haven't hit the battlefield yet, but the stories are everywhere. People come back daily speaking of the horrors of the omnics, survivors with neigh uncurable PTSD. They knew what was awaiting them, but they pushed that to the back of their minds as they figured that things would be different for them. 

"I'm assuming that you wanted to make a difference, save a few lives, is that right?" They nod their heads.

"Good, but first, you have to be able to save your own. Get some rest, for tomorrow, your training begins. You're dismissed." 

They walk off, save for one, into the base, with a lot to think about. I stare at number 2. Of course, I had done my own research. I knew all their names and their impressive scores in med school. Save for one, number 2 aka Virgina Stone. The only oddball of the group. She was the one who didn't have any accomplishments and was on the verge of failing medical school.

She looks back at me shyly, obviously wanting to ask me something. "What is it number 2?" 

"I... I'm sure you had a choice in your students. Why accept me?" She asks.

"Why'd you become a nurse?" I ask her.

"To help everyone I can, the best I can." She responds.

"Well, the best you can do right now, is have subpar scores in every aspect in medicine. From what I've seen on your records, I doubt you can even properly measure someone's blood pressure. Yet, here you still are, among even the best doctors and nurses." I tell her. She looks ready to cry but she stands her ground.

"There was one detail on your report that stuck out to me. Each one of your teachers, not once, recommended that you quit this field. Instead, they commended your ability to never give up. That's what I need from you. In the days to come, when everyone is sure to be on their last leg, no longer to give more, I hope that you'll continue on. If you do, I promise it will be worth it for you."

Her entire being improves and I swear she was glowing brightly at those words. "Now, as I said, get some rest. You'll have to work harder than them to catch up to their level." I tell her. Nodding her head she runs off. Now by myself, I can't help but think about their future.

Adawe is no doubt going to regret giving me my own team because with the plans I had, they're going to revolutionize the way medics work. It'll be a rough start, and I'll get backlash, but she should have expected me to do something wild when she promoted me. I chuckle at the prospect her listening to everyone complain about me.