Title: Finders, Keepers
Author: mikkimikka
Rating: K+
Summary: While in Ilios the junkers find a bastion bot and attempt to keep him for scrap. Unfortunately for them Talon and the newly reformed Overwatch is about to converge on the point! mcreaper. everyone else is friendship
ONE : Discovery
Standing upon a cliff near Ilios, one could become mesmerized by the way the sky seemed to burn with stripes of colors painted by the rising sun. It was the very beautiful ass crack of dawn, on day –who knows- of the fugitive's journey. Childish wonderment reflected in the man's amber eyes as he took it in greedily.
He sat on his haunches, weight settling heavily on the ball of his foot before sliding forward and pressing his bare knee to the ground. He had long since gotten in the habit of favoring it over the stump of the other. The peg was sturdy but he always felt more grounded by the feel of earth against his skin. The feeling of the grass and dew cooled him.
Together with his bodyguard and comrade, Roadhog, Junkrat was living something like a wild dream. Day by day they traveled without particular regard to the future. For Junkrat, for as long as he could remember the future had been filled with uncertainty. He just learned to blast his way, or in the case of Roadhog, power his way through it. They had the tendency to get by with their bodies mostly intact.
Behind him Junkrat could hear the rustling of his mate as he rummaged around. He didn't turn back even as a can was pressed against his bare shoulder. Lifting his mechanical arm, Junkrat grasped it. Roadhog didn't let go and Junkrat was pulled to his feet. When he was upright Roadhog finally let it go.
"Alright, alright, I got it," tsked Junkrat with a roll of his eyes and shoulders. "We gotta go."
Roadhog was bugging him about it for the past 10 minutes. The big guy didn't like to stay rooted in one place. It was for good reason, but sometimes Junkrat liked to appreciate the things he was seeing. After all, it was his first time in 25 years of living that he was ever seeing any of it outside of the dingy pages of an outdated textbook or travel guide.
They packed lightly, the entirety of their possessions fit neatly on the large rucksack slung over Roadhog's wide shoulders. Junkrat watched as his partner moved and the gentle swing of his back as his fingers opened the can of juice offered to him.
"Say, what is this stuff anyway?" he asked, though he didn't wait for the answer before tipping his had back and ingesting it.
He crushed the can, it was quite small, and hobbled his way over to his partner's side.
"What was that?" Junkrat asked. "I didn't hear ya."
Roadhog's head shifted a little to his left to regard Junkrat, hunched from the weight of the rip tire on his back, but happy.
"It tasted like grape to me too," Junkrat beamed.
He glanced down at the crushed can in his hand. It was white with pink lettering, none of which he understood.
"It's all Greek to me!" cackled Junkrat slapping Roadhog's large bicep.
He then turned and stuck the empty can in the side pocket of the rucksack. They trudged on in like fashion. Junkrat was talking almost nonstop about nothing and everything. He was basically narrating their every move and the changes in their surroundings.
The pace was quick.
They were lighter than they were just a few days ago. They'd met up with a black-market ring to sell some of their recently pilfered goods, and with pockets bulging they were set to make their journey further east Junkrat supposed. Going anywhere back up north or west would probably be a bad idea, seeing as the British were still sour about their crown jewels, and the French were still searching for a few choice works of art.
As the sun climbed higher and higher into the air it looked like the start of an amazing day. Junkrat voiced as much as that, and he wouldn't be wrong either. Though it wasn't for the reasons he would have guessed it to be. No, the day was going to be the beginning of yet another landslide in what the junker pair had learned to call life.
"Shhh," Junkrat said to nobody, really. Neither of them had been talking.
It was nearly midday. The sun was almost directly ahead and in front, behind, and all around them Junkrat and Roadhog could see an seemingly endless span of rolling hills of the Grecian shoreline stretching out from the blue that was the Mediterranean Sea.
Naturally, that was what was expected to be seen, but in the sunlight there was a glisten that caught Junkrat's curiosity. An impish grin took over his face, a sharp canine pressing into his bottom lip in barely contained glee.
"You see that over there," Junkrat spoke in an aside to his pal.
There was a grunt of affirmation and Junkrat hopped upon his legs in a little dance. His hands rubbed together greedily. He would have started running all together but one of Roadhog's large fingers hooked into the back of his shorts stopping his movement.
"It's an Omnic," was Roadhog's warning tone, louder than anything else he'd said that day.
"Looks like a nice hunk of scrap to me!"
"Doesn't look decommissioned," Roadhog may have been eyeing it suspiciously behind his mask.
"Well, it's only one. We can just blow him up!"
Roadhog let go of his friend and Junkrat scrambled to get his grenade launcher adjusted on his shoulder before tramping down the hillside towards their find.
The closer they got the easier it was to see it was indeed an Omnic. It was not only old but outdated, obviously having gone decades without any upgrades. Still, it wasn't as overgrown as one would expect it to be. Though a bit rusted the bot was fairly clear of any overgrowth. The only things on it were a few scattered olive leaves and a bird perched right on its long barrel.
Roadhog identified it as they descended the hill.
"It's a bastion."
"Huh? One of those old things, huh?" scoffed Junkrat.
He stopped and adjusted the grenade launcher on his shoulder. It was loaded just in case. Roadhog figured the only reason the bastion hadn't been blown to bits yet was because the thing was looking to be worth a pretty penny with the conditions the parts were in.
"If we dismantle it you can carry it, right, big guy?"
It was in sentry mode and looked quite small in the distance hunched over the way it was like a box. If Junkrat were to be honest, it was his first time seeing one of those things in real life. He had distaste for Omnics that ran pure through his veins yet there was a natural curiosity innate within him. Regardless, this Omnic, like all others, was only worth the price of the scrap he was made up of. He didn't have any reason to think otherwise.
As they got closer the bird on the unit's shoulder perked up, craning its neck this way and that before catching sight of the two intruders. It chirped, wings fluttering as it issued cries of alert. In seconds the seemingly dormant Omnic came online, a blue light appearing in what could be interpreted as an eye.
Roadhog didn't wait and neither did Junkrat. They were ready for battle. Even if it had wished to the thing didn't have a chance to get out of its sentry mode to retreat. Immediately he was hailed with a barrage of scrap bullets smacking against his rusted form. The barrel of its turret seemed to spin, ready to shoot back but Junkrat was quicker, throwing out a concussion mine and setting it off.
The bastion went flying through the air in a beautiful arch that Junkrat took only a second to admire. Mid air the bastion scrambled, changing into what Junkrat guessed to be a recon configuration. As the thing unfurled Junkrat was shocked by the size of it.
"They really did build them bigger in those days, didn't they?" he mused as the thing hit the ground rolling.
The bastion gathered its bearings, getting to its legs and then pointing its gun at the two junkers as he went running backwards. Junkrat fired with seeming recklessness a series of grenades in the Omnic's direction. A rush of adrenaline from the loud booming sounds followed each pull of his trigger finger.
Junkrat wasn't a fighter by any means. He was too hobbled and clumsy for any traditional kind of fight. But he was resourceful and a survivor. His upbringing made sure of that. He definitely could hold his own in a battle: as long as he stayed on the defensive. He kept enemies at bay.
It was Roadhog's job to take them head on and absorb the brunt of the damage. It was what he hired him for. Roadhog was pretty damn good at his job.
As Junkrat pelted the enemy bastion with explosives Roadhog pressed forward with all of his being. His scrap gun hung in front of him as he unloaded a full round of ammunition at the bastion and denting its already weakened armor.
The Omnic wasn't as strong in his recon mode and he was near out. It was the perfect time for Roadhog to go for the final kill. Roadhog grabbed the hook at his side, legs halting in their approach as he took aim. The chain rattled and then snapped tight as the hook soared through the air and then latched onto its target. Roadhog pulled and brought the bastion unit closer to him and with a single melee punch to the face the unit was down.
"Ugh, Roadie!"
Roadhog turned away from the downed unit to glance back at his charge who was busy swatting at the bird that was now hovering quickly and pecking at the lean junker's face. It managed to dodge every swat aimed at it with an angry chirp. The scene caused a guttural laugh to bubble out from behind Roadhog's mask right from the belly.
"You're no help!" Junkrat cursed as the bird finally flew away to the heap of metal that was its friend.
Junkrat watched as the bird landed with a sad chirp on what would be the bastion's shoulder. The intimidating piece of machinery lay completely inert.
"Welp, I guess we better hurry and bag 'im up!" Junkrat said shuffling over to their prize.
The thing was heavy, too heavy to carry on Roadhog's back, so they had to tie it with rope and drag it along. Thankfully it didn't leave too much of a trail. The last thing the two wanted to do was be tracked. They walked and walked until well past dusk, though their progress was hindered by the new load.
Tuckered out they found shelter in the skeleton of a decaying farmhouse. Without an ounce of delicateness Roadhog tossed the bastion aside causing a string of curses to fall out of Junkrat's mouth at how little care was being taken. Junkrat contemplated working on taking apart the heap of junk now or after some grub. His stomach won out.
He followed his pal out of the shack to where he was already getting started on the grub. A heavy clap on Roadhog's back served as signal to his arrival and the bastion was finally alone.
Jesse McCree, outlaw, soldier, and bounty hunter, at 37 years old he already wore so many hats. Another one had been placed on his head, this one felt a little too much like an ill fit for him. McCree wasn't an overly modest man, if he were speaking honestly. He had a bit of pride and held his chest out as he walked. He felt big with a gun at his side and his boots clomping around the place.
He was leader material, yes. But Overwatch was never something he really saw as his to lead. It was stifling. The goody goody feel of it never really matched with his image the way the covert ops of Blackwatch did.
He joined but refrained from getting involved in the logistics of any of it. He'd probably get them into more trouble than Winston wanted them to be in. Winston was a bit by the book even for a guy defying international law with the recall. Reinhardt and Tracer seemed more interested in the job.
Wandering the halls of the old abandoned facility of Gibraltar left an odd lingering feeling in his gut. So many good times were recalled to mind but there was the muffled sting of unspoken doubts. What was he doing there? He felt like an old man accepting a place among the fold, as if he could capture some sort of remnant of the old days.
Of the bunch who heeded the invite, Reinhardt was one of them. McCree wasn't surprised by it. Nor was he surprised by the arrival of Torbjorn , the knight's best friend. The pair was an odd match but they fit together well. Tracer came back, she was the first one to answer, as did Mei, to McCree's surprise and Genji. Angela said she'd come but she hadn't showed her face yet. He looked forward to that.
But it wasn't just a collection of old faces. Two new recruits, the exact story of their getting involved with Winston still a mystery to the gunslinger, brought a much needed brightness to the place. Lucio and Hana stuck together in a way that was expected of both the newest and youngest of the troop but they were definitely not kept at arm's length by the others.
Even so, even with the quickness with which things were seemingly righting themselves, with the way he got so familiar with the slowly steady stream of missions (much more covert than Overwatch used to be and actually much more to Jesse's comfort), there was still time to wonder about the ones that didn't return.
Some were dead and buried, Commander Jack Morrison being one of them. Supposedly Gabriel Reyes had died too but McCree never really allowed himself to believe it. He wasn't even sure why exactly he clung to the notion, but he for years entertained the idea. He'd heard the reports of the body pulled from the wreckage while Morrison's was never found.
Angela was there, she would have saved him. Just seeing the things she did for Genji showed that all she needed was a body to succeed. But McCree began to question his own sanity when faced with the details. He was told about the funeral; performed with a closed casket. Was he being delusional? Perhaps he was projecting his hope onto the world.
Confirmation had come after that. It was tacit as on a train he'd disposed of a cluster of Talon operatives using Blackwatch's playbook. Reyes had written said playbook and he wasn't a man someone could mimic easily. Those minions were taught by the master's hand but had not the talent to wield their skills properly.
Someone of Jesse's caliber was able to dispose of them easily on his own but the fact that he knew Reyes was alive and teaching them was something he pushed back into some small corner of his mind.
The knowledge of Gabriel's existence though didn't trouble him in the least. It didn't make him angry because of what he allegedly did to Overwatch. No, McCree refused to hear any of that until he could have it from his damn mentor's own mouth.
Instead as he lay in his bunk staring up at the ceiling at night he couldn't help but grin around the butt of his cigar clenched between two rows of teeth. Gabriel was alive and he damn sure couldn't wait to see him again. He'd show him what's what for disappearing and never even bothering to say hello.
"Cheeky bastard," he muttered into the darkness.
But there was no anger in it. There never was.
There were many nights like that for McCree where he'd allow himself to wonder what Reyes was doing; if it were night wherever he was, or if it was morning. Regardless they sat under the same sky.
Maybe Gabriel knew about Overwatch's recall too, heard it from some dark corner of Dorado where he shared shots of tequila with that Soldier 76 character. He made up dreams until he fell asleep but he didn't think of them of anything but apparitions to reach for but never seem to catch.
He was lulled to sleep by familiar thoughts.
In a few hours McCree would bodily enter a dream many times deferred and not quite like the ones he had imagined.
SST Laboratories Siege Automaton ES4 was in bad shape but he'd experienced worse. His bird friend had pecked away at the ties binding him so he was freed. It seemed to know exactly how to rouse it. With the whirring of its inner systems the bastion unit was woken from its sleep. Immediately a scan noted it of the need for self repair. Its arm, the one free of a gun, changed into a tool. The bot began the process. A caution sign appeared around it as it worked. The damage was extensive and it would likely take all night.
To a background of the sounds of crickets chirping and the occasional screech of the human outside, it worked.
-to be continued-
AN: I am sleepy I dunno why I am even writing an authors note. this is mcreaper! TOTALLY MCREAPER! Like... for real! The first chapter may not look like it but YEP! mcreaper. and it's not gonna be angsty either! SURPRISE! Let's hope to keep this under 5 chapters...
Bastion is not yet referred to as Bastion because there is no one to call it that. Right now it is not being used as a proper name. It is merely a bastion rather than Bastion.