Author's Notes: Okay, I want to talk real quick about my scheduling with my writing. I plan on posting a chapter every two to three days for the next few weeks, months if I'm lucky. I want my story to be the longest overwatch fan fiction on this site. We'll see how it goes. This chapter isn't long, but next chapter will be much longer. Also, I think its time to answer a well posed statement from WarHuskey2000. He or She mentioned it was weird seeing Talon leave one of their best Assassins behind, but keep in mind that by the time Gabe managed to get to his reinforcements for help, Marco had not only already blown the fueling station, but was busy cutting down raiders and Talon alike, more-so focusing on the raiders. Just thought I'd clear the air around it.Today's Special: Mother Wasteland VS Mind
—Deep in the Heart of the Australian Wasteland—
—7:30 p.m—
A European Rabbit bounced across the sandy plain. It had been nearly a full day since it had food, at this rate, it would be lucky to survive the rest of the day. It trotted further along until a strange whirring in the distance caught his large ear's preceptive hearing. He trotted along, following the distant noise until a tall structure in the distance caught it's eye.
It continued forward, it's tiny fuzzy feet kicking up a bit of sand with each step forward. It stopped at a dried up shrub, sniffing lightly for anything that could be edible. It sneezed when its nose touched a branch and kept forward.
Before long, it reached the tall white structure and began rounding it. It found a big metal thing was making the noise, two actually. Both of those metal things opened and human came out. One in particular caught its interest, one of the humans with blue skin. But ultimately decided it was too dangerous and decided to trot around in the open, opting to go around the structure and look for food.
"You know amigo, you can be really fucking stubborn sometimes." Ramirez grunted in annoyance. Many eyes widened when Marco exited the ship unassisted, opting to put back on all his armor, including rebreather, minus the hood. "There's work to be done, and I can't afford to let my inured self hold us down." He said sternly.
"I thought you were a survivalist, don't they do everything to like…not die? Maybe you should rest when we settle in kiddo. If you don't mind, we'll all bunk here tonight and keep an eye out for anymore raiders." The Queen offered as she climbed out of her car. Marco sighed and nodded. "That's fine, I'll figure out the
Ramirez walked next to Marco as they approached the doors to his home. Marco pushed them open with one massive push. Stepping inside his church, he took a deep breath, enjoying the feeling of being back home. He stepped forward and stopped, twirling around, temporarily stunning everyone.
"Who likes tea?" He asked curtly. Lena's hand flew up. "Oh! Me! Me! I do!" She hopped up and down, like a child trying to answer a question in class. He chuckled softly before continuing. "So I know she likes tea, anyone else? A few hands rose, he counted them quickly before turning on his heel and walking inside. Ramirez gestured for them to follow, and one by one, they entered.
The last to enter was Lucio, Widow, and Lena, opting to place Widow on the couch. Marco was at the stove fixing several pots of tea. Many found stools, crates, or pallets to sit on, a few of the larger agents chose to stand. Once the preparations were completed, he walked to the center of the room, where all agents could see him clearly.
"I want to formally introduce myself to all of you, and to apologize for having to see me in such a state earlier." Angela, who sat on a stool at the workshop table on the opposite side of the couch, piped in. "You need not apologize for anything. It was miracle that you managed to break out, I- we're just glad you're okay." She said with compassion.
He unfastened his rebreather and tossed it to Ramirez, who caught the mask without looking, placing it inside the cabinet he was rooting through, before pulling out his and Marco's bag of goodies and tucked them under his arm. He kicked the cabinet shut and walked over to an empty spot on the floor. He sat and began setting up two joints.
"Anyways, My real name is Marco. I don't know what people's fascination with this point of subject is but I don't have a last name for any of you who were curious." Lena slowly lowered her hand back to her lap. "Any questions you have, I'll try answer as best as I can." He said slowly, accepting one of the joints Ramirez had rolled and placed the tip between his lips, bringing a shredded zippo out of his pocket. "Fuck…Now I need to find a new one."
"Here amigo." Ramirez tossed his zippo in their air to which Marco caught and flipped it open, lighting his joint, puffing softly. He handed the lighter back and looked up, slightly dazed when he realized nearly everyone had a question.
He pointed randomly, his finger landing on Genji. "Our friends here, Junkrat and Roadhog are fellow wastelanders, and mentioned that there was once a top slave fighting in something called the 'Trials', along with the help of the of the son of the infamous Pablo Ramirez. I wanted to know if you are the same duo." He asked without hesitation, but realized something was wrong when Marco seemed frozen, Ramirez was starring worriedly at Marco.
"Hey, no offense my cyborg amigo, but cut any questions involving…that." He said carefully. To which quickly, Marco took several deep breaths, leveling himself back out. The silence was so thick, it could be cut by a knife.
"Its f-fine…Yes. Yes, we are the same duo. I fought in the 'Trails' since it began, and I was the one who ended it." He said, finally completely calm once again. Genji nodded in understanding. "Thank you for answering my question."
He looked around again and pointed at Fareeha. "How did you not succumb to your injuries earlier, in fact, how are you even still standing? You went through surgery and probably only got an hour nap on the ship, you should be in a borderline coma right now!" She asked in disbelief.
He looked at one of the stitched wounds on his hands. "Pain, exhaustion, weakness, all a state of mind." He recited from a distant memory. He looked up at her. "Does that answer your question?" He asked calmly. She looked like she wanted to rebuttal, but chose to reply with; "Yes..you did, thank you."
He puffed a tad harder on the joint and ashed it beside him, looking back up and pointed at Soldier 76. "What in the hell are you puffing on kid?" He asked wearily. Marco raised a brow and looked at Angela. She sighed and nodded softly. He looked back at Soldier 76 and grinned with the lit joint still in his mouth. "Weed."
Ana scoffed at his response. "Great, just what Overwatch needs, two stoners. Good find Angela, you found us two drug users." In one swift motion he dropped the joint on the ground, stepping forward, his foot stomping on what little was left of the joint.
"Keep her out of this. I found her if anything, considering she fell into my yard. As for the use of my medication and its benefits, is none of your concern. It never has, and never will affect my ability to work and survive. So if you have a problem with it, speak up." It was directed at everyone, but not a word was spoken, not even by Ana. Only because of Fareeha, who placed her hand on her mother's shoulder, and shook her head, dissuading her from speaking further.
"Good..Next….You." He pointed at Reinhardt. "How do you survive out here? No food, no vater, anything? Vhat do you even eat here?" He question was an odd, but genuine one. Marco unholstered his 1911 and twirled it like a six shooter. "I usually eat whatever could die by a single shot from this, rabbits, feral dogs, whatever is small and doesn't take up a lot of space. I have to hunt at least twice a week. As for water, there actually is a well outside, its a small pump system, but it makes for clean water and a good arm workout." He said calmly holstering his 1911. Reinhardt nodded, satisfied with the answer.
Marco scanned the room and noticed only one hand remained. He pointed at the brunette girl in the blue cyber suit with the pink face makeup. "How many people have you killed?" She asked. "Hana! That is not an appro-" Angela started to scold the young girl, until Marco's voice cut her off.
"Three Thousand, Eight Hundred Sixty Five…"
The room went silent, all eyes trained on him. His kill count outranked them all. Most knew their kill count from the beginning of their career, and this wiped their most decorated soldier out of the water. What they didn't know was that he had beaten a personal record today, most kills in a single day. A little over two hundred people died by his hand today, and he remembered every face.
Ramirez started pushing Marco towards the door, offering no resistance and following quietly. He spoke loudly enough for everyone to hear him. "Alright, this questionnaire has been great amigos, but I think its time we call it a day. We're gonna step out, follow us and I'll kill you myself." He said sternly as he flung the doors open and pushing Marco out, and slamming the door behind them. The resounding slam knocked a bunch of dust from the rafters making it drift into the light before falling to the floor.
"Mein Gott! What was that?! I thought I said make him feel welcomed, not like a fucking criminal!" Angela yelled. Many reared back, not used to hearing the patient doctor curse. Many looked to her as a mother, and like any mother, when mom isn't happy, no one is.
"Hana, what in the world made you ask him that?" She looked down in embarrassment. "I was just curious. He seemed like he knew what he was doing when he basically turned a rescue mission into a simple pick up." She tried to defend her question as best she could. Until the voice of the Junker Queen gathering their attention.
"Listen girl, don't get me wrong, you're all soldiers, you all fight and see death on a regular basis. Okay-, no, you know what? There's a good analogy for this. You are death's co-worker, you see 'em on the week days, with breaks in between. Marco is death's roommate, knows him better than anyone, spends, days, even weeks at a time hanging out with him. You have no idea what wastelanders, especially roamers have to deal with day to day. For him, its not something he wants to do, its something he feels he has to do. I was the same way before I started the Junkers." The Queen finished, also obviously disliking the question the young south Korean had asked.
"And Ana! It's marijuana, not heroin, he's not some doped up junkie. You've seen what he's capable of and yet you still have reason to doubt him, why?" Angela asked turning her attention to the former captain.
"Mako and Jamison came from a faction, they are weak without leadership." This elicited an angry outcry from Jamison, but was shushed when Mako placed a hand of his friend's shoulder. "But he is a roamer, and I know roamers. They bow to no one. That man will die before he joins Overwatch."
Before anyone could reply, Ramirez's voice could be heard calling loudly through the weak walls. "Marco! You better fucking not, you just got out of surgery, your still injured!" The doors flung inward, and Pérdido marched in, duster bellowing behind him, hood up. He approached the cabinet and opened it, pulling out and fastening his mask, right as Ramirez ran in panting. "How*pant*do you*pant*manage to*pant*still out run me?" He said using the door for support.
Pérdido said nothing as he started loading his M60. The Queen walked over and leaned into his view. "Hey, what's going on out there?" She asked. He pulled the charging handle and made way for the door. "Deathclaws, four or five of them. All of you stay inside, I'll take care of this." He said calmly. Ramirez stood up and made the no-go sign with his hands. "Thats a negatory amigo. You're still hurt, plus we have the numbers and hardware to take care of it."
"Grab my fifty cal. and watch me from the tower Ramirez." This order seemed to completely change his attitude. "You got it amigo! Can I used the incendiary rounds?" Pérdido shrugged. "Go nuts." He squealed and closed and locked the doors behind him. Angela was fumming. "Did you just send him out to fight those things by himself!?"
"Hahaha! Don't worry amiga, he's got hardware for moments like this." He pulled a plank up from the wooden floor and pulled out an enormous sniper rifle. He pulled the bolt back and smiled. He reached back into the hole and pulled out and ammo can, using his foot to put the plank back into place. He turned and made his way for the tower.
They could hear his steps as he climbed the tower, and the creak of the metal springs on the bipod. Many crowded around the front windows to try and see what was going on. Before long, a steady stream of gunfire could heard. What Angela has come to realize was Marco's M60. They could see distant flashes among the sandy plains and large reptilian heads with horns pop up now and again.
*POW*
*POW*
*POW*
Ramirez was firing rounds now, the incendiaries leaving trails as they arced to their targets, colliding with the heads and backs of three of the beasts. Two of them collapsed, one seemed to get back up, considering the string of spanish curses that came from upstairs.
*POW*
*POW*
*POW*
"FUCK, MARCO!"
In a flash, Ramirez was down the stairs and flying across the room, desperately trying to unlock the door, he growled when the lock wouldn't cooperate. "Grrrr…fuck, forgive me amigo." The latino man sent a powerful kick to the seam in-between the two doors, and they flew outwards and off their hinges, kicking up a cloud of dust upon contact with the ground.
He took off into the desert, many of the agents following behind, except Angela who was foot and foot with Ramirez. They all sprinted closer to the gunfire, listening as they reached the peak of each dune getting closer, seeing better and better glimpses of the fight going on in the sandy pits of the Outback.
Soon, about a dune away from the fight, the gunfire stopped completely, the only sound was the wind roaring against the vegetation and dunes of sand. When they finally reached the peak of the dune, looking down on the fight scene, they saw Pérdido shouldering his smoking M60, the barrel glowing a soft red. Surrounding him were large reptilian creatures, wrapped in scaly skin, with long jagged horns upon their heads. Their claws were easily as long as his M60, looking razor sharp.
They watched mouths ajar as he climbed the hill and stood at the peak with them, glancing at the dead creatures. "Ugh…Damn vermin." He turned to face his home. "Who the fuck kicked down my door?" He asked quietly. Ramirez slowly raised his hand, an embarrassed look on his face. "Dude…the fuck?"