I would like to thank Yay899, VMLM, and Hammeh for their prereading for this chapter.
Roadhog opened the lounge fridge for the third time today.
For the third time, it was empty.
Growling, he lazily slammed the refrigerator shut, and waddled over to the lounge pantry. Inside was a jar of peanut butter, "Winston – Do Not Eat" written in marker on the label. He grumbled to himself. After a contemplative moment, he closed the pantry and walked away.
After a not-so-contemplative moment, he reopened the pantry and took the jar of peanut butter.
He looked at the jar in his hand, spun it around a few times. He put his hand on the lid.
"Ahem."
Roadhog looked up to see Winston in the doorway, disapproving look on his face.
After deciding it would be unwise to try to fight his way out of the base on an empty stomach, he groaned and placed the jar on the counter not-so-gently.
Winston sighed. "I know, we're not exactly swimming in supplies right now. McCree and Lena should be landing with a fresh batch of supplies any min-"
"Winston! Doc! It's an emergency!"
The monkey's hand flew to his communicator. "Calm down, Lena. What's the problem?"
"When we got there the place was half empty and he was there again and-"
"Lena, calm down. Are either of you hurt?"
"Yes! Jesse's beat up bad. I flew back as fast as I could, but I wasn't able to bring anything back."
Roadhog watched Winton tense up, and release it with a breath. "Alright. Mercy'll be at the landing bay. I'll meet you there." With that, the monkey ran from the room.
After a long moment, Roadhog did not take the jar of peanut butter, and followed.
Roadhog had to admit, the cowboy looked pretty bad.
He could make out seven distinct bullet holes across his chest, dried blood staining his poncho and armor. His prosthetic arm was now more a prosthetic stump, frayed wired and deformed metal protruding from the end. His left side was now more left flesh pulp, fresh blood still soaking through hastily wrapped bandages. The cowboy hissed in pain as Tracer pushed him along on the gurney down the ramp.
"Hold on, Jesse. Mercy will be here soon."
As if on cue, the good doctor flew past Roadhog, wings flared, beam already touching the cowboy. She landed gently next to McCree, and sighed.
The cowboy now in the doctor's hands, Tracer joined Winston and Roadhog on the side.
"Sorry, Winston. We weren't able to get anything. He was there again."
Roadhog's stomach gurgled in disapproval, and she winced and gave him a sheepish smile.
Winston kept his eyes on McCree, scowl on his face. "We're going to have to do something about that Soldier: 76. We can't go on like this."
Tracer put her hands on her hips and pouted. "It's like he knows our every move. How are we supposed to fight him when he knows so much about us and we know nothing about him?"
Roadhog grunted in agreement. A moment of silence passed between the three.
Roadhog then wondered why the two of them were looking at him.
"We're sending you two to a former Overwatch facility in Hong Kong. Former Overwatch bases have been raided by a vigilante by the name of Soldier: 76."
The monkey gestured to a set of screens, each playing security footage. All of them featured a man with a red and black visor, clad in blue and white jacket, with a red seventy-six emblazoned on the back. The assembled watched him break into facility after facility, raid through long-forgotten files, and swipe unsecured supplies.
"If we're going to rebuild Overwatch, we can't let him keep taking valuable resources from us. There are also important secrets in many of those files. The fewer of those out in the black market, the better. Also, apprehending him will help put Overwatch in a positive light and increase public support.
"These are the places he's already been to." A map now appeared, several red markers across the world. "Our sources suggest the next facility he is going to hit is in Hong Kong. It's a former storehouse for a variety of experimental tech and equipment. We're sending you in to intercept him and bring him in. We've got a limited number of planes to use, so we'll be dropping you off and picking you up later. You'll be deployed for a week.
"Your ship departs at ten hundred hours. That's in two hours, so get prepared and report to the hangar. You're dismissed."
With that, Roadhog and Junkrat saluted Winston – sort of – and exited the command room.
"Aren't you excited Roadie? Our first mission as members of Overwatch! I think we might make it legit after all."
Roadhog shrugged and gave a half-hearted nod, but his pace slowed at the sound of a collection of footsteps behind them. He turned his head around to see several other agents pile into the command room. The doctor, the cowboy, the giant, the dwarf.
"Eh? Roadhog?"
"Go on ahead. I'll be with you."
Roadhog waddled up the dropship's ramp, Junkrat already there, having loaded himself and the plane with explosives. It was a small wonder there was enough room for the two of them.
Junkrat gave him a wave as he boarded. "So what was that about earlier, mate?"
Roadhog waved him off. "Don't worry about it. Focus on the mission." No point in bring it up now.
Junkrat shrugged and went back to tending to his payload. The two settled into the dropship. Not as big as the one they got picked up in, but enough to comfortably fit both of them. The autopilot kicked in, and the two were off.
"So… we just wait here until he shows up?"
The old storehouse was something else. Big, certainly. Plenty of crates and pallets still around. Scaffolding and shelves were lined up in rows across the space. Labels faded, most likely scrubbed decades ago.
Roadhog was mildly surprised the place hadn't already been cleaned out. This sort of place was a looter paradise. It wasn't exactly obvious, but it wasn't nearly hidden well enough to be out of a keen looter's eye.
"Hey, Roadhog, check out what I found!"
Well, now there was a looter running around. It would be a wonder if this place had corner left unturned by the end of the week.
"Don't get distracted," he said. "Set up a perimeter of traps. Then we can clean this place out."
Make that two looters.
"Hey, where are you going?"
Roadhog didn't even pause. "To get something to eat."
"Could you have been more obvious with your traps?" Roadhog groaned.
"You said you wanted a perimeter of traps, and I went and put two damn perimeters!" Junkrat pointed about, at Roadhog, at himself, at the traps. "Who's the boss here, anyway?"
"You idiot. If he so much as looks anywhere and sees the traps, he's going to know the jig is up and is going to bail!"
Junkrat shook his head. "Nah, I could read that guy like a book. You see the look in his eyes? That's the kind of look a guy gets when he wants something so bad, he'll do anything." He flashed another of his signature grins. "He'll come. You'll see."
Roadhog grumbled, but said nothing.
"Oi, you better have gotten enough for both of us. I'm starving!"
He showed up on day three. The two had been rummaging through one of the bins when they heard a trap go off. Roadhog nodded to Junkrat, and the two split into the maze that was the storage racks.
Roadhog pressed against a crate and listened. The sounds of traps being shot out, disarmed, and stepped around echoed through the building. He unclipped his hook and gripped it. Peeking out, he spied Junkrat on the far side, having scaled one of the scaffolding sets and was now on top of one of the shelves. Junkrat nodded his head over another pile of boxes. Roadhog nodded back.
This was their masterpiece.
The first trap went off to his left.
Roadhog saw the solider roll away expertly, behind another piece of cover. Traps detonated around him, pinning him down. Roadhog thundered forward, barreling around the corner and whipping his scrap gun to aim.
He got the butt of a rifle to the face as a greeting, and a roundhouse kick as a "how do you do". While his vision cleared, he vaguely made out the soldier vaulting over the cover and sprinting to another. All the while, traps detonated around him, and Junkrat carpeted the place with grenades. The building shook with an ongoing groan. Pillars protested the explosive abuse; the ground shuddered underneath.
Roadhog cast about, and spotted the soldier climbing a shelf, springing off platforms, swinging from poles, all the while dodging the scrap and bombs thrown his way. He paused only to apply his own suppressing fire or rocket barrage.
A hook flew, cutting the soldier's jacket at the hip. The nails caught into the scaffolding, and Roadhog tugged on the chain to no avail. He got a face full of pulse rounds and three rockets to the chest for his trouble. Growling, he tore at the whole damn thing with a roar, pulling the shelf down, threatening to sandwich the soldier between a pile of steel and wood.
The soldier fired his rockets at one end of a pipe on the ceiling, and dinked another joint with a round. He sped to the far side of the shelf, even as debris fell and the shelves tipped as dominoes. As the pipe swung down, the soldier swung off the whole mess, gripping the pipe. He turned back, firing wildly, accelerating him away. With one final rocket blast, he leapt off the pipe.
And right towards Junkrat. With a war cry, the solder slammed his rifle into Jamison, sending him tumbling.
For a split second, Roadhog's heart stopped.
The next split second, Roadhog narrowly avoided the collapsing wreck falling on him.
Coughing through the dust, he took a deep breath of his gas, and pulled himself a top the wreckage. Junkrat was giving ground, and giving it away fast. He saw the bombardier narrowly duck one swing, sidestep a pulse of bullets, and block another slam with his own grenade launcher. At break-neck speeds, Roadhog raced towards the fight, desperately trying to provide his partner with some pitiful covering fire from his scrap gun.
He saw Junkrat fall, his body bending back to avoid another swing, threatening to hit the floor of the top shelf.
He saw a hand sleight its way into a back pocket and throw out a mine.
He saw a flash of light.
Two groans cried out into the now-wrecked storehouse. One came from a soldier, thrown off the whole lot and heading for a date with the ground. The other came from Junkrat, rolling away from the blast and sliding across the shelf, a huge grin plastered on his face.
Their eyes locked. Roadhog grinned back.
The moment was broken by another grunt of effort. The soldier righted himself and rolled into his fall. Wasting no time, he emerged in a crouch and fired at Roadhog, forcing him to cover.
Their dance began anew, bombs and scrap converging on one spot, pulse rounds spraying back out. The three circled around, trying to gain position and flanks. The only one to suffer for it all was the building, each stray shot wounding it more and more.
For a precious moment, the pulse rounds dove into cover, and were silent in the face of explosions and shards of metal. Then they spoke.
"I've got you in my sights."
The soldier emerged from his hiding spot, turned to face Junkrat, and opened fire. Pulse round and pulse round tore into Junkrat's body, and Jamison cried out in anguish.
In doing so, the soldier had completely turned his back on Roadhog.
Big mistake.
With another roar, Roadhog, hurled his hook at the soldier, the chain wrapping around him, pinning his arms to the side. He yanked the chain back. The soldier swung his feet up.
Roadhog's next sight was that of two boots planted firmly in his face. He heard the chain run slack and fall off, the rifle firing once more, now at Roadhog.
He threw the hook once more. It flew past the soldier, narrowly missing him.
The soldier smiled. Roadhog's smile was bigger.
His target had never been the soldier.
He watched Junkrat slide off the platform, turn midair, and unhitch the tire from his back. The hook dug into the tire, the nails piercing the rubber.
Roadhog pulled the tire back.
Junkrat screamed. "Fire in the hole!"
A bang resonated throughout the storehouse, most notably through the soldier's skull. He was flung from the blast, headlong into a wall. He slid down, collapsed in a heap, and rolled over, slumped against the wall. Groans and gurgles came from him as Roadhog made his way over.
The soldier raised his rifle, arms weak but still fighting. Roadhog yanked the rifle away with one hand and cast it aside.
Mask locked eyes with mask. Two sets of ragged breathing filled the air between them.
Roadhog spoke.
"You can come quietly…"
He leveled his scrap gun at the soldier and readjusted his grip on his hook.
"…Or you can come in a body bag."