"Welcome to Bunker 29!" exclaimed Reinhardt.

The giant, muscular godfather gave Brigitte a hard slap on the back, propelling her into the aircraft carrier hanger. The entire room was the size of 4x3 soccer fields put together and smelled of gasoline fumes and metals. White light flared into her eyes from the heavy lightbulbs dangling seventy feet above them, the windows along the walls with blue skies outside, and the silver metallic luster from everywhere: the bolted-down floorboards that mirrored all the fighter jets and bombers inside, the walls with racks of assault weapons, launchers, and heavy artillery, and even the ceiling, with black-painted pipes crisscrossing and letting out steam. It was the kind of place where if you accidentally bang your bone against anything, it was going to hurt. Screeches, shouts, and chatter echoed all throughout the room with minty-fresh air as soldiers in tundra camouflage were occupied with driving carts that pulled heavy equipment, moving crates, adjusting the aircrafts, or eating food from lunchboxes. The left wall about 350 meters away from where Reinhardt and she stood was a massive blast door with "29" written in fading paint.

Brigitte had mixed feelings as she examined the hanger. Already, she felt self-conscious as she and Reinhardt wore completely different armor from the soldiers: heavy steel plated everywhere like medieval knights, minus the helmet for her. Parts of her armor were painted orange-yellow so that it blended in with miniature molten cores that enhanced her suit and weapon, an extendable mace. Reinhardt's armor was similar, except for the small tubes that fastened the armor since his needed more power to move in. He had a tired warrior's blue eyes and a turf of white hair with deep wrinkles but was now wearing a trident-tipped helmet. Her two locks from her red-brown hair fell over her yellow chest plate as her ponytail on top of her head fell into the cushioned interior of her armor. Plus, Brigitte didn't see any weaponry that she was familiar with. "Where are the defense systems? Papa told me there were heavy pulse cannons and barriers here."

Reinhardt laughed heartedly. "There are! The control panel for the electromagnetic dome barrier is at the other corner of the bunker. And for the pulse cannons, didn't you see them on our way up the mountain path?"

Brigitte shook her head as they began to walk. "No, you're kidding me. Those were turrets along the mountain ranges. They might as well be tiny crossbows if the omnic monstrosity shows up."

"It won't get this far," Reinhardt insisted. He waved to a trio of soldiers sitting on a crate and eating ham sandwiches before continuing, "the turrets are for the bastion units, or so Torbjorn has told me. The monstrosity can only crawl a certain distance onto the shores."

"Thousands of miles, Reinhardt, thousands of miles. Mount Whitney is within thousands of miles."

"Ah, quit your blabberin'! We'll slay that beast if it comes! Today, tomorrow, anytime!"

Brigette sighed but didn't bother to say anymore. Instead, she observed all the soldiers chatting together as they walked around crates and aircraft like a maze. She was very aware of the curious glances that were thrown their way. She smiled and waved whenever she accidentally made direct eye contact with any of them, who also smiled and waved back. Some of them even blushed.

As they ducked under a white fighter jet's broken landing wheels and turned the corner around a tower of crates, the first thing Brigitte saw was the huge pink…plane, perhaps? It was difficult to describe the machine as tall a Reinhardt with the mechanical structure of a rabbit, duel cannons for hands, jet thrusters on its back, and massive stickers plastered over it like race cars. Four Korean soldiers were busy loading in missiles the size of their hands and filling the vehicle with fuel as a young, Korean girl was busy in the cockpit, drinking mountain dew in one hand while controlling a retro, space videogame being projected from above the tinted-green windshields. Brigitte assumed she was the pilot, judging from her multicolored suit as tight as a wet suit for surfing and with sponsorship stickers all around, but the pink-whiskers face paint and gaming headset through her off. She had a slim body, with oval-brown eyes, thin eyebrows, a small nose, pale-white complexion, and long red-brown hair, a shade darker than her own. As they walked by, they heard her cheer as the "NEXT LEVEL" flashed across the projection. "New high score! Let's see how far I can get with your guy's support!"

Reinhardt chuckled when they were far away, walking in-between rows of midnight-black helicopters. The smell of gas at first became thicker, but Brigitte barely noticed. "Have you heard of DVa?"

"The girl in the…the…" Brigitte gave up and gestured her head towards the vehicle. "The pink think?"

"Yes. A fine MEKA pilot she is! It's fortunate the Korean army lent us their MEKA strike squad fighters to combat that lumbering beast!"

"There's more of them?"

"So I've heard. One in each of the bunkers throughout the Sierra Nevada mountain range. But that's not important!" Reinhardt patted down his armor until he patted his abdomen, opening a hidden pocket. He carefully pulled out a sturdy, rolled up poster. "I was wondering if you could assist me with something."

Brigitte gave a suspicious smile, raising an eyebrow. "I am your squire, Reinhardt, but if this is some 'can you unclog the to—"

He suddenly boomed with laughter as a platoon of glancing soldiers marched by. One lost rhythm and tripped but scurried back into the beat as they went on. Reinhardt bent down next to Brigitte. "I'm hoping," he whispered, "we can keep quiet about those kinds of things. And also, this." He handed Brigitte the poster. She quickly unrolled it to get a quick glance before rolling it up in her hand, processing what she saw. "Hero of My Storm 2?" she asked. "Was the center person also ?"

"It's—" he cleared his throat, "—for a friend."

She laughed lightly. "Ok. But she's famous, then?"

"Famous!?" Reinhardt boomed again with laughter. "She's a world icon! I'm surprised you haven't heard of her!"

"Maybe because I'm too busy patching up your armor while you're watching T.V. in the trailer?" she asked while opening up a section of her armor and placing the poster inside.

"You mean busy making sure justice is being done! Just like before we got here! Lone Pine!"

"Rein, you alre—"

"Four thugs robbing a young man! I was just walking past the pharmacy store when…"

Brigitte rolled her eyes and listened to his story once again. By its end, they had finished walking across the entire floor, arriving at the opposite corner of the room. Monitors covered the wall with lab-coat dressed soldiers sitting beneath them, watching different parts of the mountain range and the horizon. The other mountains appeared as white anthills, covered in thick white rocks the size of small icebergs that can float in the water. Dotting the range where mounted, self-automated duel turrets, camouflaged to blend in with the mountains. They were the size of observatories, their barrels fixed on the afternoon horizon the size of the 's MEKA.

"That's…impressive." Brigitte was trying to find the energy barrier, but nothing in the monitors hinted it was around. One of the lab-coat soldiers, a Hispanic woman with her dark hair in a bun, turned around at her voice. She eyed Reinhardt and smiled in a welcome matter. "Crusader. Welcome."

"Sancha. Greetings!" He and Brigitte slowed to a stop, Reinhardt gesturing towards his squire. "This is Brigitte Lindholm, daughter of Torbjörn."

"[Hi]!" she said in Swedish and held up a hand.

"[Hello]," Sancha greeted back in Spanish and shook her hand. "I know your father. I must say, I didn't expect you to be…" her voice died as she struggled to speak.

Brigitte shook her head with a chuckle. "I take after my mother. She's about my height."

"I see. Sorry if I've offended you."

"None taken."

Reinhardt bent over to give Brigitte a massive slap on the back, almost toppling her over. Her disturb feeling turned to surprise as she turned around. Reinhardt had taken off his helmet, gleaming down at her with an old smile. "I must go, but not for long. Farewell."

He also looked like it was their last time together. Brigitte laughed nervously. "Rein, I'm only being stationed here for a few days to run a maintenance check on defense systems. We'll see each other again soon." She smirked. "Maybe you just can't live without me?"

"Hah! I've been fighting omnics long before you were born! Fought hundreds of battles! I think I'll be alive for another few days."

Brigitte didn't correct his exaggeration. Reinhardt slid his helmet back on before holding out his hand. Brigitte slapped and gripped it firmly, feeling something fill her hand unexpectedly. They let go, and she found herself holding an old Overwatch medallion. As she held it in confusion, Reinhardt turned around. "I'll be expecting that back!" he yelled.

Brigitte sighed. "Yes, dad!"

She slid the medallion into a slot in her armor and watched Reinhardt turn around a massive engine disconnected from a rocket ship. Once out of sight, she turned back to Sancha. "Where do I start?"