First, it was just some skin peeling and a bit of hair loss.

Hot water began to fill the ivory bathtub as Roadhog twisted the faucet knobs to the left. He grabbed a bottle of body wash from the plastic bag of toiletries on the floor and dumped the soap vigorously into the water. The smell of lavender and steam wafted through his mask's round filters, causing him to cough a little. A small hand rested on Roadhog's knee and squeezed it. He turned his focus from the tub. It was Scrappup, standing between his legs as the older man sat on the toilet. The child had her eyebrows furrowed and her head was tilted to the side.

"I'm fine," Roadhog reassured the child and shut the running water off. "Get undressed."

"Uh," Scrappup said and they sat down on the tile floor. She removed her prosthetic first, kicking it off to the side, and undid her ace bandages. Next was her leather reinforced harness around her chest. It took some time but Scrappup got it off and threw it on top of her prosthetic. Her clawed gloves came off and were added to the pile of the child's equipment. Roadhog had to assist Scrappup in taking off her tattered pants and boxer shorts. She was quite comfortable with the older man seeing her naked. Probably rubber off from Junkrat, he thought. The young man was full of strange things, not limited to being naked half the time.

Roadhog lifted Scrappup up and eased her into the warm bubble bath. He poured some shampoo on one of his hand and worked a lather in the child's hair. Both of his large hands would engulf Scrappup's head, so he used only his right hand on the matted brown mess. As he worked the suds into her hair, Roadhog noticed the amount of hair falling out. Shedding hair was normal, everyone did, but coming out in clumps was not. Wet hairballs stuck to his fingers when he lifted his hand from her hair. He discarded the hair in the wastebasket by the toilet without alerting the kid. She didn't seem to notice as she played with the soap suds. Scrappup's hair didn't reduce in mass when Roadhog rinsed it with the detachable shower head. Couldn't even tell if the kid lost a bit a hair due to how thick it was.

He dipped a washrag into the bath water, poured soap onto it, and began scrubbing the grime off the kid's light brown skin. While the dirt came off Scrappup's body, so did her skin. It peeled off in patches, free from the caked on grime that kept it in place. Scrappup showed some kind of discomfort at his actions, scrunching up her face and scooting away from his hand. Roadhog tried his best to softly clean the child but still her skin continued to peel. The skin from her left cheek, chest, and right bicep fell off into the water. Pink raw skin was left behind and Scrappup looked up at the large man in silence. Roadhog stared back. He had seen the kid's symptoms back at the Wastes but it could just be a fluke…

The dirty water, mixed with hair, dirt, and skin, drained away when he pulled the stopper out. Roadhog picked Scrappup up, set them on the floor, and went to grab a towel from off the rack on the other side of the room. Scrappup got on her hands and gave the older man a sly grin.

He knew what she was planning. "Don't…" Roadhog said, moving closer to her.

Scrappup giggled as she shook her either body like a dog. Water droplets scattered all over the place Roadhog almost got wet if he didn't shield himself with the towel from the assault. After she was finished, Scrappup just looked up at him and smiled. A sigh came out of his mask and he shook his head. He knew something like that would happen. He wrapped Scrappup up in the cotton towel and carried her out of the bathroom in his arms.

"Look at ya! All clean and smellin' nice!" Junkrat commented as Roadhog sat Scrappup on the edge of the bed. "Like a show dog. More fun gettin' dirt though, 'ey Scrappy?"

"Uh…" the child replied with a yawn, rubbing her eye.

"First aid kit." Roadhog said, pointing at the bags in the corner of the room.

"Oh?" Junkrat hopped off the bed and went over to the bags. He dug around through their belongings, causing a mess of everything. His search gave him a medium sized box and he tossed it at Roadhog, who caught it. "Gotta do some patchwork?" asked Junkrat as he sat back on the bed.

Roadhog didn't response. He set the first aid kit right next to Scrappup and flipped open its lid. Creams and bandages lined the inside of the box. None of it was used yet since no one had gotten hurt until now. He patted Scrappup's skin dry as gently as his large hands could. Didn't want to cause more of the child's skin to peel. When he was done, he rested the towel on her lap and tended to the gap in her flesh. Taking out a package gauze and tearing it open, Roadhog placed it on the child's cheek and held it down with medical tape. He repeated the same with the spot on her chest and wrapped her arm up in a bandage. From the bed, he picked up a black sleeveless shirt and slipped it over Scrappup's head. It was Junkrat's, of course. He and Junkrat hadn't had the time to go out and shop for children's clothing yet. But the shirt hung off her body like a dress so it would do for now.

Scrappup took the towel, placed it on top of her head, and rubbed her hands around to dry off her wet mop. She shook her fluffy afro as she pulled off the towel and smiled at Roadhog. Dropping the towel on the floor, Scrappup hopped off the bed and hobbled towards her little corner of the world. She grabbed her favorite blue blanket, hugged her Pachimari, and turned over to go to bed.

Roadhog watched her the whole time. Watched her through the clouded lens of his mask.

Junkrat waved a hand in front of his bodyguard's face. "Roadie, you feelin' okay, mate? Yer starin' at the kid real intense like. Somethin' botherin' you? "

He didn't say a word again. It was just some small side effects rearing their ugly head, he thought. The kid's body would heal those wounds and the hair would grow back. Everything would be fine.

Next, it was complete loss of appetite and a fever.

The three Junkers made a pit stop at a local diner to refuel their stomachs after a long day of causing mayhem. Junkrat and Scrappup took up one side of the booth while Roadhog occupied the other side. Many people stared or moved away from the group, except for the waitress who had to listen to Junkrat's long list of demands from the menu. The overworked waitress returned with their meals and sat the plates in front of them. Junkrat and Roadhog didn't hesitate to dig into their food but Scrappup was different story. He just sat back in the booth and stared at the food on the plate.

It was after a while into his meal that Junkrat noticed the plate full of food next to him. He lifted his head from his meal and asked, "'Ey Scrappup, why aren't you eatin'? It's yer favorite!"

On the kid's plate was a bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries and a chocolate shake to drink. Scrappup's go-to when ordering food but today, he hadn't even touched a single fry. He sipped here and there on the shake but the food remained untouched.

"Ain't hungry, huh?" Junkrat concluded, placing a hand on Scrappup's shoulder. The kid's body was hot to the touch. Why hadn't he felt it when he was sitting on his lap in the sidecar? "Feelin' crummy?" he corrected himself and looked at Roadhog. "Hog, I think the mutt's got the flu. Gotta get some medicine for that."

Roadhog grunted in reply.

Scrappup leaned over and rested his head on Junkrat's side. He could feel the heat radiating off the kid's body. It was uncomfortable but he knew Scrappup wanted attention from him. He certainly knew he did when he was feeling sick.

"Just keep drinkin' that shake of yers." Junkrat ordered. "It'll cool ya off." He was no doctor but he remember you had to drink a lot when you were sick. Increase fluids or something along the lines of that. He learned it from overhearing Doctor Vega when she was tending to a patient with a cold. A cold and a flu were pretty much the same thing.

Scrappup replied with a quiet "Uh," and took another sip from the blue straw sticking out of his glass.

"Good boy." said Junkrat. "You'll be back to prime shape in no time. Just you wait. "We'll put yer food in a," Junkrat snickered and continued, "…doggy bag, fer later!" Immediately, the man howled in laughter and slapped the table.

Scrappup groaned and turned his back to the man.

"What?" Junkrat said through laughing. "It was funny! I couldn't let a pun opportunity pass me!"

But missing a meal turned to missing two, three, and then four meals. Scrappup began to lose weight as his diet consisted of just liquids. His fever still lingered after taking over-the-counter medicine. Junkrat frowned. What a tough sickness this flu was but he knew his mutt could beat it. He survived getting his leg blown off. A flu was virtually nothing! Junkrat wasn't too afraid. He believed in his mutt.

Then there were more symptoms, all of them back to back or at the same time.

Weakness. Scrappup was always a strong kid, carrying bags of Junkrat's equipment around. Lately, the kid could only drag bags across the ground when it was time to load them on the motorcycle. Roadhog came to his aid when he saw him struggling. He helped the kid with his usual job, an easy task for the large man. Scrappup appeared saddened when he couldn't do his own job that was given to him. He couldn't even climb up into the sidecar with assistance. It was as if all his strength was sapped away from him.

Dizziness. Though Scrappup had a leg missing, he could walk fine with his prosthetic. Until he couldn't walk properly anymore. He would walk a few steps before losing his balance and falling over. "Me dizzy." Scrappup claimed as he hung on to Junkrat's shoulder or his RIP-Tire. That ended with him falling off or over again. The rate Scrappup falling at random times grew until he couldn't walk or stand by himself. Junkrat then had to carry him most of the time.

Vomiting. Scrappup couldn't keep his fluids he drank down now. Well, the little amount of fluids he did managed to drink. Before, he was able to make it to a bathroom to empty his stomach. Now, Scrappup had to carry around a bag with him because the vomiting became so frequent and they were too weak to run to a bathroom.

One tough flu, Junkrat thought. Scrappup sat in his lap while he emptied the content of his stomach into the plastic bag. He rested a hand on the child's back and the kid looked back at him when he was done. Junkrat frowned at the sight. Scrappup's cheeks were sunken in, his eyes were cloudy and he didn't quite look at him. A small trickle of blood ran down the corner of Scrappup's mouth to the curve of his chin.

Junkrat slowly reached out and touched the blood with the tips of his fingers. He didn't want to believe what he was seeing. Scrappup blinked slowly when the older man touched him, as if he wasn't sure what was going on around him. Junkrat rubbed the blood between his fingers and stared at it. It was real, the kid's illness wasn't the flu at all. How long was he like this? How long did Scrappup suffer for him to brush it off as the flu? Junkrat counted the days in his head. 23 days, he had let the kid suffer for 23 long and painful days. 23 days of him causing mayhem while Scrappup quietly died by his side. What could he do now? He didn't have Doctor Vega to fix him again.

A hand touched his shoulder and Junkrat looked up. It was Roadhog, standing over the young man as he cradled the child. Junkrat chuckled nervously and said with a shaky smile, "'Ey Hog, guess what? The kid doesn't have the flu! Ain't that swell?" His nervous laughter tapered off and he went quiet.

"Rat," Roadhog said. "Hospital. Now."

All Junkrat could do was nod and follow after his bodyguard.

The scent of cleanliness and the complete white interior of the hospital lobby slapped Junkrat in the face when he rushed through the open automatic glass doors. He never like hospitals even when he was small. The smells, the feeling of death lingering in the air; it made him uncomfortable. He looked down at Scrappup in his arms; the hot, barely moving child he was happy to call his mate. He had to do this. He had to break through his fear to save his mutt.

Junkrat stormed up to the receptionist's counter. "I need a doctor and I need a doctor now!" he demanded as he slapped his hand down on the counter's surface.

"Well sir," the receptionist sitting behind the counter said as she pushed as clipboard in his direction. "I'm going to need you to fill out this paperwork before we can see anyone."

"I don't have time for that shit!" Junkrat exclaimed. "I need a doctor now!"

"Look buddy," the receptionist said as she leaned forward towards him. "You're not the only person here who needs medical attention. Now take a seat, fill out the paperwork, and maybe you'll see a doctor by tonight."

Junkrat gritted his teeth together in frustration. He didn't have time for paperwork or passive-aggressive women. Holding Scrappup closer to his chest, Junkrat stormed pass the receptionist's desk and pushed through the double doors. He heard nurses and others shout after him as he began to run down the hallways. Faster he ran, peg leg and boot squeaking across the clean tile floor. Junkrat had no clue where he was going, looping around corridors and avoiding nurses. White coat, he had to find a person in a white coat. He took a tight turns and his peg leg slipped out from underneath him. Down Junkrat went sideways, trying his best to avoid getting the kid injured. His arm and shoulder crashed against the cold floor. Scrappup fell out of his arms, hit the floor, and slid a few feet away from Junkrat.

His arm stung as he scrambled to get back up to his feet. It was going to leave a nasty bruise in the morning.

"There he is!" he heard a man's voice behind him shout.

He looked over his shoulder. Uniformed men were closing in on his location and fast. He gathered Scrappup up back in his arms and continued running down the hallway. Where were all the doctors? Did they lockdown the hospital when he stomped through the checkpoint? He was met with dead end when he reached the end of the hallway. Junkrat paced back and forth, looking for a way to escape. Sadly, there were no rooms for him to duck in and lay low for a while.

"Rat…" Scrappup said. His voice was strained and weak.

He looked down at the child and turned on his heel. He had to go back, there was no other way. When he turned, he froze in his tracks. Four uniformed men had their pistols out and pointed right at him. Junkrat took a step back. How could he let these pigs corner him?

"Put the child down, turn around, and walk towards us with your hands behind your head!" One of the hospital security officer shouted at him.

"What? No!" Junkrat retorted. "I need a doctor. My kid's dyin'!"

"Do as you are told, boy!" Another officer said. "You got a lot of nerve coming to a hospital. You're a danger to everyone and we are not falling for your criminal tricks!"

They thought Scrappup dying wasn't real. They thought he was lying. "Don't you fuckers get it?" Junkrat shouts and took a step forward. "I'm ain't playin' a game here! I really need a doctor! My kid's going to die!"

"Boy, if you do not comply, we will open fire on you." The same man in the beginning warned.

Tears of frustration welled up at the corners of Junkrat's eyes and he squeezed them shut. "Why won't you fuckers help me?!" he screamed. "Why don't you drongos understand?!"

A metal hook dragged the officers off their feet as Roadhog appeared, sending the men down to the floor. Their weapons fell out of their grasp and skidded across the tile to god knows where. They trembled in fear and kept quiet when the massive man passed them by. They were a daring lot but not stupid enough to mess with a guy that looked like Roadhog. His mere shadow crawling over the group sent shivers down their spines.

Roadhog now stood in front of Junkrat, who sat on the floor with his knees drawn up close to his body, protecting the child in his arms. The young man was crying, snot running out his nose and tears rolling down his cheeks. He looked up at him and Roadhog grimaced. God, he was an ugly crier.

"W-what are we gonna do now, Hoggie?" Junkrat's voice shook as he wiped his tears with the palm of his metal hand. "No one's gonna care for the kid while he's with a bunch of wanted criminals! Kidd's gonna die, Hog! And it's all these fuckin' people's fault!"

"I know someone," Roadhog commented.

Junkrat shot up to his feet. "Who, Hog?!" His voice strained as he shouted. "I'll give up my good arm and leg for anyone to fix my mutt! I'll hug a damn omnic if that's what it takes!" He looked down at the child passed out in his grip. "I just want Kidd to smile again…" he mumbled.

"Overwatch."

The word that came from Roadhog cause Junkrat's eyes to grow to the size of dinner plates. His eyes darted about as he tried to gather his jumbled thoughts. Never had he thought he would need their help. Hell, they should be begging for him to join. But if that was what it took to save the kid's life, then he'll take the bait.

"I don't know how you got in touch with them," Junkrat said, rubbing his nose. "But I learned not to be askin' questions when it comes to ya. Just make the call already, Hog."

Those Overwatch people did not play around when it came to a medical emergency, Junkrat found out. Especially when the medical emergency involved a child. From Roadhog, he learned that they would come to their location as soon as possible with their medic but had to take the kid back to their base. Like hell he was letting his mutt out of his sight with a bunch of strangers. He left all the packing to Roadhog as he still held Scrappup while he sat on the edge of the bed. His leg bounced up and down as he stared at the wall clock in silence. It ticked on and on. Agonizing, it was. What was taking them so damn long?

Scrappup was still alive, thankfully. His breathing was noisy and labored. Blood sputtered out from his little mouth with every cough. Junkrat was quick to swipe it away with his metal thumb. The kid would mumble something to him, complete and utter gibberish, but Junkrat replied like he could understand every word. He knew the kid was completely out of it, to ease the sickness. Rat felt the same confusion when he lost his leg and arm long ago. He could sympathize.

There was a knock at the door. It was a quick series of knocks, actually. Junkrat could tell it was in the tune of a song but didn't think too much on it to figure out which song. It had to be those people from Overwatch, no doubt about it. Junkrat began to stand up but Roadhog raised his hand to him, motioning him to sit back down. The large man's hand went around the brass knob, turned the knob, and opened the door. Light from the afternoon sun flooded into the dark room. Junkrat couldn't see who was in the doorway since Hog was blocking his line of sight.

"Hiya big guy," Junkrat heard a cheery woman's voice say. "Overwatch is here to save the day! Now where's the medical treatment needed?"

Roadhog stepped off to the side, letting more light into the room.

Junkrat got a better look at who the voice belonged to. It belonged to a brunette who wore her hair short and spiky, probably held up by hair gel. A small tan flight jacket covered her torso and orange skin tight leggings dressed her slender legs. 'Tracer' was printed in white on her left thigh. Some type of metal contraption Junkrat had never seen before was strapped to this woman's chest. Its leather straps outlined her breasts and the its center glowed a light blue. She dashed towards him when she noticed him on the bed. Dashed was an understatement. The woman virtually teleported to his side in the blink of an eye. It made Junkrat jump how fast this woman was.

The woman pulled the orange goggles from off her eyes. She frowned as she looked at Scrappup. "I ain't a doctor but the little fella doesn't look so good."

Junkrat recoiled at the woman's words. "What?!" They were supposed to bring him a doctor!

The woman lowered her goggles back over her eyes and raised her hands up in defense. "Whoa, calm down there, love. I'm just the pilot bringing you three back to base. My friend is the doctor around here!" The woman 'blinked' back to the door and poked her head outside. "Double time, Angela! You gotta quicken your pace, love!" She told a person Junkrat could not see and immediately 'blinked' back to his side. Damn, he wasn't getting used to that.

"I swear Lena," another woman's voice said just outside the motel and the owner of the voice came to view. "Not everyone can manipulate the time around them like you can." The woman was a blonde just like Junkrat himself, hair tied back into a neat ponytail. She wore a white button up blouse, a black skirt, and a white lab coat to bring together the ensemble. She was pretty for a doctor.

The doctor, Angela he learned, came up to him. "Mister Fawkes, I presume?" she asked as she knelt down.

"The one and only," Junkrat replied but his voice didn't have its usual luster to it. "Can you fix up my kid?"

Angela extended her arms towards him. "May I?"

Junkrat pulled Scrappup close to him and stared at the doctor. Never had he let anyone lay a single hand on the kid.

"I assure you that I am a qualified doctor, Mister Fawkes." Angela said with a warm smile. "Top of my graduating class, actually."

"R-right, yeah." He mumbled and slowly slid Scrappup in the woman's awaiting arms.

She held the child like a mother would with her own offspring. He was her balance Scrappup's legs on her knees as she used her free hand to dig in her coat pocket. Angela took out a pen from her pocket and she clicked its button, causing a light to turn on. Her delicate fingers parted the child's lips and shined her light into his mouth. Some noise came from the doctor and she moved upward. The doctor then opened one of Scrappup's eyelids and shined the light right on his eyeball. Surprisingly, Scrappup made a tiny whine in protest and weakly move a little in her arms. Angela let the child's eye close once more, turned off the light, and returned the pen to her pocket.

Before Junkrat could ask a single question, Lena spoke up. "What does it look like, doc?" She asked. "What's ailing the little guy?"

"Receding gum lines, dilated pupils…" Angela went on, rubbing her chin. "It's hard to say. Could be many diseases. We will have to go back to the Watchpoint to run tests." The doctor stood up to her full height of about five foot eight. "I must inform you, Mister Fawkes, that these tests cost resources. And resources cost money."

He knew what she was going on about. Junkrat stood to his full height, causing a small reaction from the pilot and the doctor. His height always was covered up by his poor posture. He went over to the duffle bags Roadhog gathered on the floor and picked up one particular bag. Without another thought, he dropped the bag at the Angela's feet. The bag's flap fell open, revealing a large number of stolen money and jewelry inside to the doctor.

"Money ain't a problem, doc." Said Junkrat. "Just fix my mutt up, yeah? I-I ain't really got anywhere else to go." He would give up all his treasure just to heal the kid. When he first met that kid in that junkyard, all thin and dirty. Never thought he would give away his loot to save his life. Funny how love makes people do stupid shit, showed that they cared. And Junkrat cared a hell a lot about Scrappup.

The drop ship Overwatch brought to pick up the Junkers was small but rather fancy model of airship. The inside was compact and cozy for a foundation made up of high class heroes. It had basic amenities, a place to relax, and plenty of glowing orange panels of unknown use that tempted Junkrat to touch them.

When Lena 'blinked' ahead of the group to the front of the ship, Angela pulled a strap on the wall which caused a bed to collapse. She rested Scrappup on the bed gently and got to work. Junkrat slid into the booth on the other side of the ship to observe the doctor from a distance. From another wall of the ship, Angela took out one of the green tanks of oxygen and hauled it over to the child's side. She strapped it down to the wall, removed a mask from above the tank, and fitted it over Scrappup's nose and mouth. It was when the doctor anchored the kid to the bed with multiple straps that Junkrat tensed up. Made him remember why he disliked hospitals and being sick in general. Hated being stuck in the same place for a long period of time.

The doctor's heels tapped against the floor as she took long strides to get to the seated men. She slid herself next to Junkrat. Her body turned around to the files on the shelf behind her head. She fingered a few folders before taking out a white file folder and opening it. "Now Mister Fawkes," Angela said, taking out a pen. "I will ask you some questions about the child. Please answer them to the best of your ability."

"Alrighty, doc." Said Junkrat.

"What is the child's name?"

"Scrappup! Pretty good name for the little mutt, if I do say so myself. Used to call him Kidd when I first met him."

Angela rested her pen on the table. "Birth name, please, Mister Fawkes. This information is important."

He froze, jaw slack and eyes staring off in the distance. He searched everywhere in his mind for the kid's name. Surely he heard it before but he was coming up empty handed.

"Morgan Shea." Roadhog replied.

"Oh yeah. Thanks Hog." The young man mumbled.

"Thank you," the doctor said as she jotted down the child's name on top of the paper. "Sex and age of the child?"

Junkrat gasped, "Doc, my kid doesn't do that sorta thing! He's only like, what, seven?" He then giggled to himself.

The doctor's lips were pressed firm into a straight line.

He scratched his cheek and chuckled. "Yeah, bad time fer jokes. Dunno, actually. He kinda responses to anything and everything."

"Female," Roadhog answered again.

It took Junkrat by surprise. "What? Really?"

The large man nodded.

"Uh, yeah…" Junkrat's voice trailed off he looked down at his hands. First, the kid's name, now the kid's sex. What else did he make up to fill those holes in his memory? What was real and what was just what he wanted the kid to be? He never asked what the kid wanted to be. Scrappup, Kidd, was Junkrat's creation, like a bomb or mine. The kid wasn't even his own person.

"Now let us move on." Angela announced. "To figure out what Morgan has, you have to tell me her symptoms."

"Well," Junkrat started. "Scrappup kept pukin' up everything he puts in his mouth. And only wanted to drink then started pukin' up blood after that." He looked over at Roadhog and asked, "What else was the kid dealin' with?"

"Weakness, hair loss, skin peeling, and dizziness."

The doctor noted what the men said and stated, "From the environment you three come from, it is possible that Morgan may be suffering from radiation poisoning."

"Thought it would be worse…" Junkrat commented.

"But with the internal bleeding, loss of appetite, and labored breathing, one or more of her organs could be ruptured or failing."

"Oh fuck…"

"I can't make sure unless I take x-rays." Angela added. "If it comes to that, surgery would be the best option. The less invasive surgery would be good for her little body. She'll heal quickly even with radiation poisoning hampering her healing. Sadly, organs and finding organs that Morgan's body won't reject are hard to come by and will take too long. I suggest artificial organs for her."

Junkrat just stared at Scrappup as the doctor went on with her fancy medical talk.

"Mister Fawkes," Angela said as she slid the paper in front of him and slipped the pen in his hand. "Please sign here for consent with Morgan's treatment since it appears that you are her legal guardian."

"Legal's kinda stretchin' it." Junkrat said, scrawling his name on the dotted line. "The kid's parents are long dead. Took him in under my wing. Didn't have time to make it official." He passed the pen and paper to Roadhog. He signed the paper also and passed it back to the doctor.

"Thank you boys." Angela said, placing the paper back in the folder and closed it with a smile. "That will be all for now." She got up and went back to Scrappup's side.

She was good at her job, Junkrat had to admit. Even if he didn't know half the things she was talking about. And that Lena girl, she seemed nice enough. Scrappup needed structure, not insanity and mayhem. He was selfish, only thinking about destruction while his kid was wasting away in front of his eyes. And the doctor was so…selfless. Taking care of a child of no good criminals, she could have rejected his pled for help.

"Oi Hoggie. I'm not usually the best person for ideas."

"I'm listening," the large man said.

"I was thinkin' we should just…" He didn't want to say it but he had to. "Leave the kid here with Overwatch. He'll be better in their hands. He almost died in our care." Junkrat rested his chin on the table. "I'm a piece of shit guardian, Hog. He's better off without the crazy ol' Junkers. Maybe we should do a disappearin' act so he can't find us."

"You know she'll be pissed when she finds out we ditched her." Roadhog commented.

Junkrat replied. "Yeah, he'll hate my guts for sure. Rather have him wantin' to deck me ten years later than dead."

"Bet Morgan can kick your ass by then."

"Keep dreamin', Pig Face. Keep dreamin'."