“Habibti..you’re getting sloppier”

  My mother moves like someone who never learned what age feels like, like the years never had a chance to settle into her bones. Which makes sense, I suppose, because they didn’t. Not this time. She was brought back sharp-eyed, steady-handed, and cruelly young and piping hot twenty, the same as me.

  Identical, if you don’t look too closely, we look more like Sisters rather than Mother and daughter. Gone are her white locks and injured eyesight. Everything was restored as I remember her when she first joined Overwatch.

  And that was a long long time ago.

  We circle each other on the mat at Laborn Gym,a quaint gym, little run down but it has heart. The facilities still work.Our boots whispering against reinforced flooring. The air smells like chalk, sweat, and old iron left to rust due to neglect, but the floors are swept clean and that’s good enough for my Mother and me.

  Brockton Bay sunlight filters through high windows, catching dust motes in a way that reminds me of training halls long gone back in our old world. Here in Brocton Bay? Or new journey began. A new fresh start.

  Her stance is relaxed. Mine is not, My dear mother is not slouch.

  “Your shoulders are tight,” she says, calm, observational skills far superior than mine and already inside my guard.

  “You say that every time,” I reply.

  “And every time it’s true daughter.”

  She comes in without warning. A feint. A real strike. I pivot, barely redirecting her wrist before her knee snaps up toward my ribs. I block, absorb, twist away. The impact rattles through my arms anyway..Shit, she really hits hard.

  Twhack* and I stumbled back skidding on the mat.

  Gods, she’s strong.

  Not augmented like Genji, no armor like Jack and Winston Just skill, honed and ruthless during her years as a Sniper. Once hailed as the greatest sniper in the world Bastet.

  For a moment, it feels surreal sparring with my mother while looking into a mirror that argues back. Same dark hair pulled tight. Same build. Same eyes. The difference is posture, scars, and the weight behind the gaze, Yes, I knew she was my mother and we’re supposed to look similar, but she’s different than me.

  She trained me. She broke me. She rebuilt me.

  And now she’s young again and much stronger.

  She sweeps low. I jump to evade her just like she taught me, then she me cut off cut them off, landing hard. She’s already there, elbow driving toward my collarbone. I catch it, twist, overcommit and-

  Mistake.

  She’s smiling when she flips me onto my back The mat knocks the air from my lungs.

  “Dead again, Your Helix training isn’t doing you any good” she says mildly, stepping back and offering a hand. I take it, letting her haul me up. My grip lingers a second longer than necessary.

  “This isn’t fair,” I mutter. “You have decades of experience and now a twenty-year-old body, how am I supposed to compete with that?”

  She shrugs. “Life is rarely fair, habibti.”

  I snort despite myself” We should change the method, maybe the shooting range. Pretty sure I’m a better shooter”

  My mother just smile knowingly and stared …shit. “Nevermind mom.”

  “Good girl, one more time. You’ve gone soft since revival, come at me with the intention to kill”

  We reset. Sweat beads along my spine. I roll my shoulders, forcing the tension out like she told me to. She watches closely, approving, predator and parent all at once, easier said than done. Come at me with the willingness to kill she said, I never understood that part of her life, the part that takes a life to save one.

  “I heard you flew patrol over the docks last night without your Helix suit,” she says.

  “Word travels fast in this world, I wonder how that works” I said, missing her punches by a narrow margin, switching up from boxing to Krav maga now.

  “This city is dangerous child, you should have gone with better preparation” said mom, doing a sweep while I manage to block it but she circumvented it and toss me over ..shit, sloppy. Need to pay attention to her hidden counters.

  “So was Cairo. So was Helix. So was everywhere we mattered.” I got up slowly scanning any opening I can exploit but there’s none, Mom’s stance is impossible to take advantage of but I tried anyway, Only to land on my feet again as she flip me over.

  She doesn’t argue that. Instead, she steps in close, taps two fingers against my chestplate and almost knock me over. “Your balance has improved.”

  “Because you kept tripping me.” I said. She fights dirty.

  “That is how learning works, They haven’t forced you to your limit, I haven’t either so don't complain.”

  We clash again, shorter this time, sharper. I manage to tag her shoulder. Just once. Her eyebrow rises a little with a smile.

  Progress finally.

  She disarms me a second later, of course, twisting my wrist until I yield. We separate, breathing hard, equal in sweat if nothing else.

  For a moment, we stand there in silence, just two women, similar face, different lives, standing in a city that shouldn’t exist, alive when we shouldn’t be. At least she’s here now. Mother stopped running away, and all it took is to die in our old world and get revived in a new alternate reality world, You get what you wish for, I’m just not sure if I should be grateful for that wish come true.

  “I never thought I’d get this again,” I say quietly. “This. You. Not like this of course mother dearest..it’s just a little overwhelming..”

  Her expression softens, just a little. She reaches up and adjusts the strap on my armor the way she did when I was younger before I was Pharah, before I was a symbol of Justice, That wont work here anymore. Im just another nobody now, forgotten, just like mother.

  “Neither did I,” she says. “But since we have it…” I said, already getting back up and went back to my corner of the ring.

  She steps back into that impenetrable stance. “…we don’t waste it.” This time switching up her stance into something I’m not familiar with. Is that …silat? I couldn’t be sure.

  I raise my guard again “Yes Mother” Whatever it is, I’ll beat her into submission.

  She nodded “Again Faresha, try please”

  …………..

  The boardwalk is louder than the gym ever was.

  . Brockton Bay smells like salt, fried food, and from things that shouldn’t exist yet but do anyway. I walk beside my mother with an ice cream cone in hand. mine pistachio, hers plain vanilla like this is a normal afternoon and not something pulled out of slice of life movie, Mother and daughter enjoying ice cream like and ordinary family. Missing a father. Always missing a father figure.

  She walks slower now. Not because she’s tired. Because she’s choosing to.

  “Careful,” she says, nodding at my cone. “It’s melting faster than you think.”

  “So am I,” I reply, licking the edge before it drips onto my glove. Cairo was hot but Brockton Bay at the end of Summer seems to be hotter than the Cairo I remembered.A good day to enjoy ice cream.

  My mother huffs softly. A laugh, almost.

  We pass couples, families, dockworkers getting off shift. Some of them glance at us twice. Two women, similar face, same height. I can almost hear the questions forming in their heads.

  If only they knew.

  “So,” I say after a while, staring out at the water. “What now?”

  She doesn’t answer immediately. She watches a fishing boat ease back into harbor, movements practiced and patient while she finishes the last bit of cone from her vanilla ice cream.

  “That’s the question, isn’t it?” she says. “We’ve been given something most people never get. A second beginning. Clean bodies. Clean records. No wars chasing us.”

  “No Overwatch,” I add.

  She hums thoughtfully. “No obligation to Overwatch.”

  That distinction matters.

  I slow my steps. “We could leave. Find somewhere quiet. You always said you wanted a small place near the sea.”

  “I did,” she admits. “Still do.”

  “But?” I asked..there’s always a but with mother.

  She smiles faintly, eyes still on the horizon. “But we didn’t survive what we did by walking away when things were difficult.”

  I kick at a loose plank, the wood clacking softly. “This city is… broken. Different kind of broken than what we’re used to.”

  “Yes,” she agrees. “No Omnic insurgents, but the problems seems to be more varied, Super Kaijus and roving mass murders for example.”

  “And metahumans they called Capes instead of armies,” I say. “Politics instead of fronts. Children fighting battles adults should never let them fight, Cant believe they have something called the Wards.”

  That makes her stop, Mother never liked child soldiers forced to do the work of adults, She killed people that abuses young victims for a living before, with her Kinamura rifle. They dont call her the Eye of Horus for nothing.

  She turns to me fully then, ice cream forgotten, gaze sharp in that way that always meant she was listening not just hearing.

  “That,” she says quietly, “is why leaving would be so easy.”

  “And why wouldn't you stay?” I finished the sentence for her..

  We stand there, waves crashing below us. Somewhere behind us, someone laughs. Somewhere ahead, a vendor calls out about churros.

  “I’m tired, mama,” I admit. The words come out softer than I expect. “I don’t want to be a symbol anymore.”

  She reaches out, nudges my shoulder with hers. “Then don’t be.”

  I blink. “What?”

  “You were Pharah because the world needed her,” she says. “If you stay, you don’t have to be that again. You can be Fareeha. A woman who helps when she can. Who teaches. Who protects without standing on a pedestal.”

  I look down at my reflection in a shop window as we pass—armor off, hair loose, just another woman with an ice cream cone.

  “And you?” I ask. “Ana Amari doesn’t exactly do quiet.”

  She chuckles, low and warm. “I could teach. Medics, snipers, anyone willing to learn patience. Or I could disappear entirely.”

  She meets my eyes, she knew I didn't want that and felt sorry for even uttering it

  “I’m sorry Fareesha, But if there are children here fighting wars they don’t understand… I don’t think I can ignore that, If choice were given to them, I would like them to be ordinary and enjoy life just like what I did for you but…”

  “But I was never that kind of girl, you know that. I wanted to be close to you mother..” I finally said it, the thing I wanted to say to her but was never able to say it.

  We start walking again, steps in sync without trying.

  “Maybe,” I say slowly, “I don’t think you have the heart to join something like Overwatch again”

  “No,” she agrees.

  “But we can’t just abandon what it stands for either. Mercy is improving the hospitals here, I heard Tobjorn is helping the folks at the dock to restore their ports, there’s something we can do right mama?”

  Stolen novel; please report.

  She nods once. Decisive. Final.

  “We help,” she says. “On our terms.”

  I smile, feeling something settle in my chest, it’s nice talking to her again like this,not for duty, no pressure from any external threats or government sanction. Just clarity.

  “Alright,” I say. “But next time, you’re buying the ice cream.”

  She smirks. “Next time, you’re choosing the flavor, Nothing safe like Vanilla or pistachio.”

  I groan. “That’s worse, mama, there’s so many flavours”

  Then suddenly-

  The first explosion hits hard enough that my ice cream slips from my hand. It splatters across the boardwalk, melting into the cracks between the planks. I barely notice. The shockwave slams into my chest, a familiar pressure that makes my lungs lock up for half a second.

  Not fireworks. I thought it were a gasleak and some building blew up due to a gas leak, seems unlike with all the screaming. Screams ripple down the pier as another blast tears through a food stall. Smoke rises fast, oily and thick, and my instincts snap into place like they never left.

  “Terrorist?” my mother says beside me, calm as ever.

  I turn and see them kids. Four of them, sprinting between panicked civilians, dodging debris and fire. They move wrong for normal people, too coordinated, too desperate, not to mention these kids rode on giant dogs. Pretty sure those aren’t chihuahua. I always wanted a chihuahua. But these dogs are big lumbering orcs, and ugly.

  Not to mention these kids wearing costumes were very very young. My jaw tightens as I realize these is probably one of those children soldiers..A ward? “They’re being pushed toward the crowd.”

  “Yes,” Ana says. “Someone’s herding them.”

  A flicker of motion pulls my eyes to the docks. A man appears where there was nothing a moment before, standing atop a shipping container. Dark armor. Masked face. The air around him ripples like reality is stuttering. What caught my eye was the bandolier of grenades and his Oni mask.

  Oni Mask?

  Now where have I heard of that before, Oh, the current Terran Commander brief us about the dangerous metahumans, wait..they have a rather local term called Parahumans or simply capes. Oni mask..oni Mask, Oni Lee?

  My stomach drops, but my hands are already clenching, ready. “Teleporter. Explosives.”

  “He’s isolating them,” my mother replies. “It’s not a bad play where tactics goes.”

  “Focus mother, now’s not the time to acknowledge a dangerous entity” I snapped.

  Another explosion. Closer this time. We’re still in civilian clothes. No armor. No launchers. No wings. I didnt have my helix armor or rocket launchers and my mother is without her biotic rifle.

  But that doesn’t stop either of us.

  I see the moment the smallest boy trips, hear his breath hitch as an ABB brute charges out of an alley after him. I move without thinking, grabbing the lid off a trash can and throwing it as hard as I can hitting him in the head and stunning him as it bounces off to another ABB mook. It slams into the man’s knee. He spins, crashes into a cart in a spray of metal and condiments.

  The kid freezes, staring at me like I’m some kind of mirage.

  “Go!” I shout. “Keep left! don’t stop!”

  He runs. A flash of displacement and lo and behold, Oni Lee reappears closer, arm already cocked as he throws a grenade.

  Fuck me-

  Ana fires once using a handgun she took from one of the ABB I taken down earlier. The grenade detonates midair, the blast snapping windows instead of bodies. I don’t even look at her. I knew she’d take the shot.

  Oni Lee vanishes again.

  “Still sharp mother,” I mutter.

  She exhales. “I raised you better than that Fareesha, go. I’ll distract him.”

  The kids cluster behind an overturned food truck. One of them, a girl in a purple themed outfit wearing just a domino mask outfit stares at us with wide, disbelieving eyes.

  “Who are you? Whaa? What are you?!” she asks.

  “Hush child, not now,” my mother says. “Are you injured?”

  The girl shakes her head, breathing hard. “He keeps appearing every time we move and-”

  “I know,” I cut in, scanning rooftops and shadows. “He wants you boxed in.”

  The air ripples to my right. I turn just as Oni Lee appears, blade already swinging toward the smallest of them. I step in front of the strike before I can stop myself.

  The knife cuts across my forearm. Pain flares with sharp hot fleshy heat, but it’s shallow. I grab his wrist, twist hard, and drive my knee into his chest.

  He’s strong. Stronger than he looks.

  Not strong enough. Mom’s there in a heartbeat, smashing the side of his helmet with the butt of her gun before she could displace him with a well-placed kick,. He disappears in a snap of displaced air, leaving a spray of blood behind.

  I hiss through my teeth, clutching my arm. “We can’t keep trading hits like this.”

  “No,” Ana agrees. “So we change the rules just like back when I was at Kings Row Uprising.”

  I look at the kids again. Bruised. Shaking. Still standing. “You listen to me,” I tell them, forcing my voice steady. “Follow my mother. Do exactly what she says.”

  The purple suited girl opens her mouth. One of the jester looking kid with a cane nodded and the other kid with the skull mask just grunted “Listen to her Tats, we’re getting out of here”

  “B-but..wait, you dont understand Grue, we, no..I need to!-”

  Ana cuts her off. “Now.”

  Mother threw her handgun towards me and said “Stay safe while I bring these kids to safety for evac”

  Mother was already scaling the rooftop with her athleticism, Thats mother for you. They move following her, that’s good. Smart.

  The girl with the two giant dogs growl “Judas! Drag her!’ the one they called Tat tries to protest “Wait R-Ahh!” and one of the giant dogs just mauled her and carry her away..I almost step back at how gnarly that feels..ugh.

  Giant dogs…

  I don't think I’ll ever get used to that. I turn back toward the smoke-filled docks, heart pounding, blood dripping down my sleeve.Great..just great. 3 days after revival and I’m already out without my suit injured. Mercy is gonna flip me.

  Just me.

  Oni Lee’s presence flickers again, somewhere close.

  I square my shoulders and breathe in.

  “Alright,” I whisper to myself.

  “If you want a fight, come get one.”

  Just me and him.

  The gun mother gave me feels wrong in my grip.

  Perhaps if I have any complaints?

  There’s recoil dampeners, no HUD, no targeting assist whispering trajectories into my ear. Just cold metal, a steady trigger, and my own breathing. I haven’t used something this crude in years. Maybe decades. Muscle memory resurfaces anyway, old training bleeding through the rust but if given a choice? I would still prefer to wield a rocket launcher. I can aim fine, Just one of those bigger means better mentality in my choice of arms.

  I move before he reappears to flank me again.

  A bomb terrorist masquerading as an Oni, Kimiko wouldn’t not approve of this Yokai reject, and I dont think Hanzo and Genji would take one of their countrymen to be so crude as to wear a bandolier around themselves like a suicide bomber..

  Wait a minute-

  The man appear behind me as I can hear the drop of a pin, Suicide bomber? I turned and saw him holding the grenade in his hands-

  Shit!

  I kick him away just in time for him to blast against the wall of and took a chunk of concrete as plaster and rocks raining overhead me

  “Cough* …powers are bullshit”

  Open spaces are death. Lines of sight are invitations. I cut between overturned stalls and shattered kiosks, keeping my back to cover, forcing angles where he has to commit to appear. He wants proximity. He always does this sicko.

  Teleport, strike, vanish. A predator that relies on certainty.I could deny him that, Fought to the skies enough to acknowledge he had similar air superiority tactics I used to deploy on formations.

  The air tightens.

  A pressure change, subtle but familiar.. I know this, smells like danger again. I pivot and fire where he isn’t yet, trust my training and instinct.

  The shot cracks, loud and ugly, and Oni Lee materializes straight into the bullet’s path. It clips his shoulder, spinning him half a step before he vanishes again, leaving a smear of blood and the echo of displaced air.

  Good. He bleeds, fairly predictable compared to my experience.

  My arm throbs where the blade cut me earlier. Not bad enough to matter. Pain is information, not a command I can control but something to tolerate, I keep moving, counting shots without looking. I have eight. I treat them like they’re priceless bullets that would keep me alive.

  I think of the parahuman kids, huddled behind my mother. Too young to be hunted like this. Too young to know what monsters look like when they’re smiling and doing god knows what.. I noticed they were hauling some stuff. There’s a chance they might not be wards…

  But they are still children.

  Another ripple. Closer this time, Annoying little shit.

  So this is what it feels to have a shootout against Tracer. Too bad she went to New York with that Monica person. She would bag this Oni Lee like a pretzel with her skillsets.

  Focus Fareesha, even without your armor, you should still remember your training. What will mother think?

  I drop, roll, and fire upward. The explosion comes a half-second later, heat licking across my back, fragments biting into my jacket. I feel one cut my calf.Mother was right. I was getting sloppier.

  He’s adapting. Appearing farther away. Throwing first grenades first and testing me.

  So am I.

  Two can play this cat and mouse game.

  But who's the damn mouse?

  I stop reacting and start predicting. His pattern isn’t random—it never is. He favors momentum, chaining teleports along a vector, always pressing forward. I visualize the boardwalk as a grid, mark his last three appearances, draw the line he doesn’t know he’s following.

  I step into the open area. Open enough to not allow him to flank me in tight spaces. My heartbeat slows down significantly. The world narrows. This is the space I remember I think, Makes it easier to predict things. Make it easier to path the possible pathline he could teleport to me.

  He appears exactly where I expect him to…Got him.

  I fire twice.

  One shot misses. The other punches into his thigh, staggering him hard enough that his teleport stutters. He doesn’t vanish immediately. For a fraction of a second, he’s just a man in armor, surprised and angry and very mortal.

  I advance, firing again as he tries to disengage. The bullet shatters something on his chest rig. Sparks fly. He disappears in a ragged flash, leaving debris clattering across the boards.

  My magazine is nearly empty.

  Damn it.

  I don’t try to chase him blindly. That’s what he wants. I slow my breathing, listen past the ringing in my ears, feel the city around me, This isn’t even the boardwalk anymore, I don't even know which part of the city I am,the heat, the smoke, the vibrations of panicked footsteps fading as civilians clear the area.

  It does make everywhere around me seem to look the same to me whenever I look, not like I’m used to Brockton Bay, but I still would like to think I knew enough of the general area I’m in. All this smoke is making it hard to detect the bomber. But I know he’s hurt. That changes things. Wounded predators make mistakes.

  The air warps behind me.

  I spin and fire my last shot.

  It hits his mask.

  The impact snaps his head back, cracks the surface, and he vanishes again in a burst that feels wrong, he panicked. I stand there for a second, gun empty, arm trembling not from fear but from the sudden absence of motion.

  I don’t feel victorious.

  I feel tired.

  I lower the handgun and exhale slowly, forcing my body to come down from the edge. Just when I think it was over, Out came a new challenger to the ring,rolling in on four roaring engines that sound more like beasts than vehicles.

  They come in a wedge formation, low and aggressive, tires screaming as they drift into position. Each one is wrapped in blackened armor plating with glowing seams, vents pulsing orange like forge bellows. Hellions, I’ve seen this at the Command Centre. Did they sent the Cavalry? Did mom?

  Flamethrowers ignite in unison as they roared into the empty plaza.

  Sheets of flame arc forward, overlapping, cutting off every possible vector Oni Lee could use to reappear safely. The air turns white-hot, oxygen screaming as it burns. I catch a glimpse of him materializing mid-teleport straight into a wall of fire, his silhouette outlined for a fraction of a second before he aborts the jump, vanishing again in a violent, panicked displacement.

  He flees.

  That Oni finally flees.

  The flames cut off, leaving scorched boards, melted metal, and heat rippling so hard it warps the air. The Hellions idle, engines growling, claiming the space like predators that know they’ve already won.

  Then he arrives.

  He steps out of the central vehicle slowly, theatrically, like he knows every eye is on him. Black hoodie, hood up. Long black cape that catches the heat and billows behind him like smoke. No insignia, he’s wearing a bandolier too but it looked odd, for one..I think there’s some sort of white dust around him.

  He raises one hand the dust scattered,

  Fire coils around his fingers, A fire manipulator.

  “I am the Flame King,” he announces, voice calm, almost bored. “This sector is under my patrol, You lost or something?”

  I stay still, watching, cataloging. He isn’t looking at me like an enemy. More like… someone annoying who’s intruding into his territory. The Hellion drivers dismount.

  Four women, all Asian, all impossibly put together even in combat gear. Fire-resistant bodysuits tailored more for intimidation than practicality, visors lifting to reveal amused, confident smiles. They move with practiced familiarity around him too close to be bodyguards, too casual to be subordinates.

  One loops an arm around his shoulder.

  Another leans against a Hellion, flame residue still steaming off the barrel, smirking. “Who’s she, Jinho? Another potential girlfriend? hehe-” one of them says cheerfully, like she’s talking about a band they all like.

  “Don’t look like a cape? Those were some serious martial arts skills though. If she’s a civilian, we should think of recruiting her. Could use someone like her in the crew” another adds, unapologetic with her purple hair and odd cutesy makeup. Something like what Kimiko would wear occasionally.

  “Just ditch her and let’s go, Oni Lee went that way didn’t he?” Another girl chimed in, this one wore hardcore military gear, black hair, no makeup, no nonsense attitude.

  “Im thinking about it Jinny.” The only male in the party said, His voice is deep and commanding, I could see a glance of his visage, Very handsome for someone who bears the name Flame King as a Cape. It makes me wonder if all the superheroes in this world are as bombastic as him? Or is that just the confidence talking.

  The other girls are special too.

  They radiate ownership. Of him. Of the street. Of the fire. The Flame King glances back at them, the corner of his mouth twitching like this is normal. Like this is home turf and is used to their antics.

  Then his attention shifts, briefly to me.

  “You know Jason Lin? You seem like the type to know him” I nodded. That’s the Commander’s name right?

  “And you are?” I asked.

  Fire dies down. Engines turn. The Hellions roll forward, reclaiming the street inch by inch, flames lighting the ABB territory like warning beacons rather than weapons. He took one look at me and said “Tell Jason I’ll be visiting soon, Lung’s been expanding and my crew can’t keep up. He should start intervene if he wants to keep the status quo”

  I wanted to ask what’s his relation to the Commander and how he was able to get four hellions, but he went off as they disappear into the smoke and neon glow, one thought sticks with me, sharp and unignorable:

  Brockton Bay just got a whole lot weirder.

  And unlike most of them…

  This one doesn’t hide.

  My phone lit up, It’s mom “ Hello?”

  “Fareesha. You’re safe? Did you deal with the Terrorist?”

  “Yeah I did, where are you mother?” I asked.

  Silence then-

  “One of the kids is actually injured, meet us on the way to the General Hospital. I’m just..having some brief trouble disciplining these wayward kids”

  Ah…I see. I know what that means. I don't pity those brats one bit. Mother can be quite the taskmaster when she sees naughty children misbehaving. I suppose those kids aren’t exactly wards then.

  “Okay, see you at the Hospital, I’ll go chat up with Mercy first, Go easy on them mother please?”

  Silence again and then “I cant make any promises daughter. They have been very naughty lately”

  Brockton Bay I sighed.

  What a weird city.

  **********************

  A/N

  More slice of life stuff, Mom and daughter. I had a different idea on how to proceed with this but I can continue with Ana point of view next and maybe expand on the Undersiders as well.