Three monks lay dead on the pavement. Gunned down from behind, shot in the head, blasted in the chest. All bearing marks of taking heavy fire from a plasma weapon. Four others still clinging on to their lives, lay beside them. Their heads bashed in and their optics flickering, as their power source began to fail. A scene of senseless violence that Jack Morrison was aghast to come upon.
Having fought in the Omnic Crisis, Jack Morrison was no stranger to acts of violence such as this. Humans and omnics, alike. But to see peaceful beings being targeted with such cruelty, left Jack feeling unsettled. A sentiment no doubt shared by the omnic monk floating near him.
"My brothers…" The monk trailed off, head drooping. Saddened by the sight of his fallen brethren. Though it was in their beliefs that death was inevitable and its timing uncertain. The early demise of his companions, a difficult thing for the omnic to process.
"I was to join them, so that we may listen to the words of our brother Mondatta together. Now they will never hear his wisdom." The monk spoke, with wistfulness in his voice. Though Jack had never met the omnic in person, he knew that his speeches brought comfort and hope to the masses that attended them. But with the lives of the monks cut short, the only lesson learned that day would be the tragedy of unexpected loss.
"They're not all dead. Some of your brothers survived. Take care of them." Jack informed him and walked away. Trusting that the monk would tend to his family on his own.
Though Jack's mission was an ongoing endeavour, there were times when he felt as if his resolve was a finite resource. The execution of those monks had not only ended their lives, it had also killed most of his determination to continue.
Finding a pub on the streets of King's Row was not a difficult task. The city was populated with many fine drinking spots that were easily accessible. Water or perhaps something a little stronger. He hadn't decided what he wanted to drink yet. He preferred to keep his mind sharp on the job, but perhaps today called for an exception.
Pushing the door of the pub open, Jack felt like a heavy burden had instantly been taken off his shoulders. A crowded place filled with content people, chatting over drinks. This would be the perfect place to take his mind off things. Sadly, some troubles were unavoidable.
"Watch where you're going! You're no better than omnics, walking all over the streets like you own the place." A rowdy man complained, as a woman bumped against him as she and a group of friends found their seats on the leather banquette.
"But we took care of those pyjama wearing bots, didn't we? They bend like tin cans, if you hit 'em hard enough." The man addressed two of his companions sitting at a table with him, recalling the violence they had inflicted. Leaving Jack with no doubt as to who their victims were.
"And they make good target practice, too." One of them added, nodding in agreement. Giving Jack the reason he needed to step in.
"Hey! Heard you took out some omnics. Here's a drink for your trouble." Jack walked over to their table with a glass of beer in his hand.
"Thanks!" The man expressed his gratitude for the free drink, glad that someone in the pub had heard his boasting and agreed with him. Leaning closer to the man so he could see the glare on his face underneath his hood, Jack delivered his message.
"The omnics send you their regards." Jack uttered ominously. Before pouring the beer on the man's head, leaving him fuming with anger. Let him make the first move. Jack mentally braced himself for the man's retaliation.
Taking a few steps backwards, Jack tilted his head to dodge the incoming beer glass flung in his direction. It smashed into a wall, scattering glass shards everywhere—startling the customers in the vicinity. He would have to fight carefully, if he didn't want more civilians getting hurt.
Shouldn't go rushing in by yourself. Jack evaluated the tactics of the enraged man, as he charged towards him. Using the man's own momentum, Jack grabbed hold of his shoulders and steered him into the path of the pub's counter. The knock to his head stunning the belligerent brute, but not quite rendering him unconscious. Ignoring the bartender's demands to stop, Jack began hammering punches into the man's face until he felt himself being lifted away from under his arms. He didn't need to turn around to know who it was. The bully had reinforcements.
Holding his arms in a tight lock. The two thugs held Jack in place, enabling their friend to punch Jack in the face and gut repeatedly. He tried to struggle at first, but the strength of two men and the constant blows were proving to be rather effective against the older man. Judging that they had weakened him enough, the men finished their assault by flinging Jack through one of the pub's windows and onto the streets.
"Mein Gott!" Jack heard a woman exclaim, before succumbing to his injuries and passing out.
Complete darkness. It was the first sight or lack thereof, that Jack was greeted with as he came to. The only thing on his mind? The throbbing pain in his head and the faint hope that he wasn't about to get his head bashed in a dark alley he believed he was in.
"Good morning. How are you feeling today?" Jack heard a female voice inquire about his wellbeing. Had he heard it before? It seemed so familiar.
"Why is it so dark in here?" Jack replied, ignoring the woman's pleasantries. There was no time for that. He needed answers now.
"What do you mean?"
"I can't see anything. Who turned out the lights?" Jack demanded an explanation, feeling annoyed by the sightless situation he found himself in.
"The lights are on. Can you not perceive them?" The woman inquired, flashing a penlight into her patient's eyes. But whatever light came from the doctor's flashlight was not apparent to Jack.
"No." Jack growled, clenching his teeth with frustration at the news. The problem did not lie with his surroundings. His own eyes were to blame.
"When you were thrown through the window, you took a hit to the occipital lobe. The swelling in there, is the reason why can't see right now." The doctor explained the nature of the injury to Jack, drawing a loud sigh out of him.
"How long until I can see again?" Jack asked the question pressing on his mind. He never was the best patient. Visits to the Overwatch infirmary were always like field missions to him; get the job done and move out. This time however, Jack had a bad feeling that this was not going to be a routine visit.
"A few days. You should be fully recovered by then." The doctor answered, like it was nothing to worry about. Which only served to infuriate Jack even more.
"That's too long! I don't have time for this." Jack protested, but the doctor would accept no resistance from her difficult patient.
"No, it isn't. You should consider yourself lucky, it could have been a lot worse." She retorted. Many of her patients had walked out of her clinic with much graver injuries, the man should be grateful that his eyesight was returning at all. Her lecturing must have done the trick, because her patient had now fallen silent.
"May I ask the cause of the fight?" The doctor encouraged Jack to speak more about the reason he was flung through a window. Hoping she would at least gain an understanding by listening to what he had to say for himself.
"A man I met in a bar was bragging loudly about all the omnics he'd just killed. Earlier today, I came across a massacre that matched the description perfectly. I knew he was responsible, so I taught him a lesson." Jack told her, certain that his actions were justified.
"That is for the police to decide." She responded with a disapproving tone. She'd gained an understanding now. The man took the law in his own hands. Which was why he was so anxious to recover, so he could make a quick getaway.
"Helping omnics is on the bottom of the police's to-do list. If we don't stand up to people like him now, there's nothing preventing him from doing it again in the future." Jack revealed his cynical outlook on criminals with his reasoning. Maybe there was more to this currently blind vigilante, than the doctor had realized.
"So, you feel like it's your responsibility to do something about that?" The doctor spoke for Jack, having finally reached an understanding of her patient.
"Yes. It's my duty to help people. Just like your duty to heal, doctor." Jack replied, alluding to the Hippocratic Oath she had sworn upon.
"It's Doctor Ziegler by the way, and your duty now is to rest." She gave him her name and her doctor's orders.
"Understood."
Thank you for reading my story. For the past two weeks it's been my on again, off again fan fiction. Finishing it was quite an accomplishment for me. I write at such a leisurely pace, that a bit of pressure from readers would be most appreciated.