CopyCat had decided to explore on her own. Sure, she'd been given the tour, but there was only so much you could see when you were being babysat by military types. So she shrugged on hip-hugging sweats and a tank top that clung to her curves and went exploring. This time she'd discovered the kinds of detail you know when you live in a place, which was exactly what she was doing now. She had no home, no job, no family. For the foreseeable future she would be living here. She needed to learn her way around this place so she was comfortable here.<br/><br/>The door marked Security, Authorized Personnel Only was too tempting. She lived here, was one of the heroes, surely she was authorized. Unfortunately, the numeric keypad didn't agree. Every sequence she tried gave her an error beep and red light. She pursed her lips. She was about to give up and wander off, when the door opened and a uniformed Overwatch Officer exited, nearly bumping into CopyCat as he came through the door.<br/><br/>CopyCat stepped back. "Excuse me," she said.<br/><br/>"Pardon me, Miss." The officer was young, and blushed as she exited.<br/><br/>"Please, call me CopyCat." Nyssa extended her hand to the officer.<br/><br/>He took her hand and shook it. "Corporal Adams." He paused. "Robert," he added, with an embarrassed smile. "Or Rob. Rob Adams." He blushed. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss CopyCat."<br/><br/>She giggled at his apparent embarrassment and kept his hand held in her own, a smile playing across her lips. "The pleasure is all mine, Robert. Please, don't let me keep you."<br/><br/>"Right. Duty calls." He straightened, pulling his hand back, though she was reluctant to let go. "I hope to see you again, Miss CopyCat."<br/><br/>"I'll be around," she said with an quick wink.<br/><br/>Corporal Adams turned and walked down the hall and around the corner.<br/><br/>Nyssa closed her eyes and concentrated. What had she picked up from him? Memories and skills were difficult for her, but something always came through. Rob was single, had a collection of comic books and action figures, his favorites were Batman and Captain America, and the oil lamp on his nightstand was a gift from his ex-girlfriend. Useless. Numbers, she needed numbers. Eight six seven five three oh nine... dammit. That was a song he remembered. Five Forty-Four, Sixty-Two Fifteen. A phone number. One Oh One, Seventeen, Thirty... social security. God, he had a lot of numbers in his head, and none of them were useful. She decided to try her last resort.<br/><br/>Her fingers pressed buttons on the keypad without thinking. Nine five six one one three. The light flashed green. Nyssa smiled and pushed the door open. That was lucky.<br/><br/>The room was unoccupied, but far from empty. A huge console filled one wall, a couple of displays above it. Buttons, switches, keyboards, and controls she couldn't even begin to fathom covered the console. The displays seemed to show some sort of heating system map or... She had no idea. She looked around, read some labels, found little of interest. Then she saw it: A button labeled Cameras. She pressed it and the display flickered, the map of whatever system had been displayed replaced with a grid of nine tiny screens, each showing a different view of various rooms throughout Overwatch.<br/><br/>There was the kitchen, the landing pad on the roof, some hallway somewhere, the gym... she focused on the gym. What in the world... She recognized the three women there. She had been given access to the basic dossiers on her teammates. Fetter, Mecha, and Atemi. Oh my... they were...<br/><br/>Nyssa blushed, but didn't take her eyes from the screen. She fumbled with the controls on the console, losing the picture briefly but then getting it back, then finally getting it to expand to full screen. At sixty inches of high def video, it was almost like being there. She saw then touch, caress, lips and tongues moving over each other. Nyssa swallowed hard and plopped down in the only chair. She stared, open-mouthed, wide-eyed, wishing she were there with them, wondering what she could do, what excuse could she come up with, how could she push herself into their interlude... no. She couldn't. But maybe she didn't need to.<br/><br/>She combed her fingers through her long, blonde locks, then let her hand trail down her neck, over her breast, down her stomach, and slide into the loose top of her sweats. She caressed herself, slow and lazy over her pelvic area and down the insides of her thighs, then teasing the edge of her labia, a grazing touch over her clitoris. Her other hand cupped one breast, thumb working her nipple, imagining being one of those three, being entwined with those three. Her fingers were exploring the rapidly dampening folds of her labia as she watched them on the screen, breathing faster, wishing she could hear them.<br/><br/>She lost herself in the moment, the combined thrill of voyeurism and the potential of being caught in this compromising position making her all the more excited.