Hello everyone! :)
As previously mentioned, this story is taking place during the cinematic short "Hero". I have kept the events accurate in the first chapter for a better immersion, but just to let you all know, it will quickly stray from there. I have wanted to tackle Jack's character for a long time, but could never seem to come up with a good enough setting to properly explore his mindset, so I just went back to the element that had triggered my interest in him to begin with and decided to see where I could go with it.
Please let me know what you think! And thanks a lot for reading!
** Rated T for mild cursing and descriptions of injuries.
All Overwatch characters belong to Blizzard **
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Chapter 1: Of Vigilantes and Witnesses
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Another day, same routine.
Those were the words Jack Morrison mentally told himself, sighing as he shouldered his rifle and glanced down from his vantage point with a tired sort of annoyance. Installed behind a roof's industrial ventilation system with the rest of his equipment, he scanned the roads below for a familiar sign of disturbance he knew would come his way sooner of later.
Behind him, the sun had begun to set, draping every surface in vibrant shades of gold and magenta. The air was warm, as it was midsummer, and the nearby trees rustled with a light breeze.
It was no surprise that his current area of operation happened to be a favorite destination for tourists. At this time of year, Dorado was a gem of natural flora, filled with all the exotic aromas of wild flowers and local foods. With its luxurious landscapes and colorful festivities, it certainly offered the prospect of a heavenly retreat for any vacationer... or so he had heard. It was a pity that he had no care whatsoever for any of those things. He might have otherwise been able to enjoy his stay at least a little.
His eyes fell on a couple crossing the intersection and he stilled out of instinct. The man was carrying a handful of packages, but a quick and experienced look was enough to confirm that they didn't contain anything dangerous.
No longer interested, Jack blinked and redirected his attention elsewhere.
What solely interested him was the kind of visitors -and trades, more specfically- it attracted. In that aspect, despite its environmental and architectural beauty, Dorado was sadly just like any other city. Criminals of the lowest kind could be found roaming in every dark crevice below the bright surface, supplying a black market that flourished and spread like weed.
Leaning back slightly, he tapped into his headset and accessed his visor's data bank, rereading the information he had gathered so far to pass the time.
His chosen target was a very prolific street gang which had begun making itself known more and more during the past year, mainly through various acts of vandalism and armed robbery.
Numerous news articles had also mentioned the fact that they called themselves Los Muertos... as though the amateurish name somehow made them more of a threat. Personally, Jack thought that they resembled ambulant toxic wastes more than anything with the fluorescent tattoos, but soon disregarded the thought with a disdainful grunt.
He honestly couldn't care less about their name. They would be dealt with the same way as always. And today wasn't going to be any different.
The nearby echoes of raucous laughter and resonating impacts broke the pleasant tranquility of the evening then, interrupting his thoughts. Rising from his spot, Jack did a brief checkup of his tactical gear before jumping stealthily to the next building. He was almost right above the source of the commotion.
"Hey, hey, Alej! Where'you goin' girl?"
"Um... no... nowhere."
He paused, tensing slightly as he identified one of the voices as undoubtedly juvenile.
"Ha, nowhere's right! Come on, you gotta' see this."
In a corner near a fountain, three punks were harassing an omnic. And there was a young girl with them.
"Here! Give him what he deserves!"
The android twitched and sparked, its body flashing with short circuits. The girl was handed a bat and urged towards it, but appeared reluctant to move. Jack growled under his breath and tightened his grip around the trigger when one of them lost patience and roughly pushed her.
Just as another guy took what looked like a small purse from her and started tossing it around, the deep rumbles of an engine were heard. Completely ignoring the girl's protests, they hurriedly embarked on the vehicle that had just rounded the corner and fled the scene, leaving her behind.
Satisfied with her lack of involvement, Jack cocked his weapon and promptly followed without looking back.
-o-
It had been nearly five minutes of uninterrupted sprint and leaps by now, but he hardly noticed. Whenever he was this focused, things like exertion and muscular fatigue barely registered. There was nothing but the task at hand, and it was often all he could think about until it was done.
Mapping out the truck's route as he went, he discovered that the group was headed straight towards a deposit where other gang members were already parked. His visor bleeped as it informed him of what he had stumbled upon. Illegal weapons, hidden drugs, stolen equipment... all in large quantities. They had led him right into their main trade post.
Unlike the criminals on the move, he didn't have to navigate through the narrow and encumbered streets, and got there first. He guessed it took them about five more minutes to finally catch up, but by then, he had already made himself useful.
It was only after knocking the third guy out that he finally heard and recognized the same ones from before, standing right outside the abandonned shop he was in.
He didn't waste any more time making his presence fully known. And from the moment he did, there was nothing but the unleashed heat of battle.
It had been clear very early on during his training that he was naturally gifted when it came to hand-to-hand combat. At the academy, he had surpassed many, and effortlessly so, even back when his approach hadn't yet been tainted by morally questionable practices. He knew survival, and knew how to fight. He reasoned that it was what he was made to do. It was all he had been doing since the fall of Overwatch, and all he had known for the past fifteen years.
No matter how many enemies there were or what type of artillery was used against him, he could handle himself just fine. It was probably the strongest advantage there was to being rogue. Not only was he incredibly efficient on his own, but he also had no one to worry about. Only his own back to watch, and luckily for him, he usually excelled at avoiding getting injured.
Pushing himself off the surface he had landed on after firing his final shots, he readjusted his grip on his trusty rifle and stoically walked towards the only thug who was still moving.
He was trying to crawl away.
Picking up a smoldering piñata off the ground, Jack made his warning, ramming the object into the guy's head with each syllable. He generally settled for a parting threat at this point, or sometimes a short interrogation when he felt like it. He was not much of a talker, but could get answers very quickly if he needed to. His favorite method only required the nose of his loaded gun to press against the defeated (and still very conscious) adversary's forehead. This never failed to obtain him information in no time. It had become somewhat of a pattern by now, and one that he carried out on almost every one of his regular mission.
...Only, as he was about to realize, this would not turn out to be a regular mission at all.
As Jack was about to continue with his aggression, no doubt with every intent to both let off steam and give the man on the ground a severe correction, a high-pitched yelp pierced the air, derailing his train of thought entirely.
Caught off-guard, he snapped his head up and froze at the sight that greeted him. Backing away from behind a wooden crate, and having seemingly appeared right out of nowhere, was the exact same girl from earlier. She stared back at him, crouched on the ground in sheer terror.
What the hell was she doing there?
"Get on the truck, let's go!"
Behind him, the gang members had regrouped and were attempting a hasty retreat.
Shaking out of his stupor, he got up and dashed after them, determined to finish this operation before dawn. He had been following their activities for days. There was no backing out now!
Part of him actually felt relieved that they were once again trying to leave. The more distance he could put between an armed fight and civilians, the better it would be. He was starting to feel confident in his capacities again despite the unexpected addition of a young witness.
Just as the reassuring thought crossed his mind, one of the thugs grabbed a grenade from the nearest crate and opened it.
"Eat this!" he shouted, and tossed it forward with a wicked laugh.
Normally, Jack would have deemed this a poor aim and even poorer choice of weapon. There was a good reason why he almost never used grenades, especially in close-range combat. During a fight, one could never predict how their own position would change from one second to the next, and because of this, they simply weren't reliable enough. Plus, the opposing side often had time to react way before they even detonated because of their activation beacon. They were clumsy, unpredictable and basically useless, except... for...
He ground to a halt and watched, in horror, as it whizzed past him and bounced in the dust, rolling to a stop less than a foot away from the girl.
...collateral damage.
Oh, no.
She screamed at the sight of the beeping shell and flailed in panic, but remained rooted on the spot; too scared to put proper distance between herself and certain death.
Jack took a helpless glance back at the criminals, who were cackling triumphantly as the driver sped off. They were getting away.
The impulse to stop them was so strong that it briefly overtook him and he jogged a few steps after them in frustration. If they regrouped and passed word about him, which was absolutely sure to happen if he didn't do something now, everything he had put in striking them with the element of surprise would go to waste. Who knew where they would hide this time. If could take him weeks to find them again.
No. He had to go after them, he had to-!
Another shriek resonated behind him, and with it an accelerated signal, alerting him that the grenade was just seconds away from exploding.
It was in this moment... This single, crucial moment that the blurred lines of his judgement finally sharpened and priorities abruptly came back into focus, jolting him where he stood like an electric shock. Seized by the sheer gravity of what was about to happen, he dropped his gun with a mortified gasp and rushed to save her.
The last thing he saw was the terrified look on the child's face before the blast hit and flames engulfed everything.