It always seemed bizarre to Junkrat how people assumed Australians didn't understand the cold. They must have thought that the blazing heat of the summer sun lasted all year round, that they lived in an eternal scorching land of dry, cracked earth and cloudless sky... but the winters had always been painfully real. No Antarctic hellscape certainly, but in the ramshackle remains that the destruction of the omnium had left behind, where central heating was a distant memory, it was rough. If they were lucky it passed relatively mild, but every few years a bad one hit.
When night fell there was no escaping that freezing weather. It was bitter, and cruel, and crept through every layer with a chill that chewed right into the bone. Sometimes sleep wasn't even an option, you had to get up and move, anything to work a little more warmth into your body. Bad things happened to those who didn't.
Junkrat had been luckier than some, always had a fire during the worst months and knew enough to put any personal grievances aside and bundle up with anyone who was willing if things turned bad... but he had never looked back on it fondly. No matter where he travelled he maintained an unyielding distaste for the cold. It made stepping off the drop ship and into the frigid outside air an unpleasant transition.
Junkrat recoiled slightly, glancing over his shoulder as if contemplating slinking back to the warmth of the cabin... he thought of trip over and quickly changed his mind. He had no wish to return to that.
Being cooped up for any extended period of time was bad enough. It prickled at his nerves, got him antsy with the need to move, not because he had anywhere to go but because the sudden knowledge that he couldn't ate away at him. Even the idea of being trapped – however illusionary – set him ill at ease. Coupled with the complete inability to funnel his energy into anything productive, and the strained atmosphere between the ship's passengers, and it was a recipe for disaster.
Junkrat spent most of the flight finding convenient corners to stare at. Easier to avoid Lucio that way, who kept trying to catch his gaze despite his obvious reluctance to reciprocate. He listened to the steady thrum of the engines, to the staccato his leg beat on the floor, to Hana's stilted attempts at sparking a conversation, to Mercy's updates as they closed in on their destination... He tore a hole in his glove simply by picking at the stitching.
No, he was done with that. Even with the cold at least outside was open, gave him room to breathe.
He stood there for a moment, eyes scanning the area before he was satisfied enough to step further away, putting a little distance between himself and the drop ship.
"Ooohh, it's pretty out here, isn't it?" Hana's voice called from behind him.
He glanced back at her, shrugged, and turned away once more. "Nothin' special. Don't ya gotta be unloading your mech or somethin'?"
"Well yeah, but I thought I'd take a peek... Mercy wants to make a call before we do anything anyway- oh, heya Lucio, I was just saying to Rat-"
"Gonna go stretch me legs," Junkrat interrupted before she could continue, hefting his bag. He ignored the itch at his spine, the urge to look, to check, to measure their expressions. Didn't stop him from hearing her faltering reply.
"Oh, alright... Don't go too far..."
"I ain't stupid. Ya can yell out if ya need me."
True to his word he remained close to the group, keeping just enough of a gap that he was outside the range of easy conversation. He focused his mind instead on studying his surroundings.
Maybe they were pretty, in a rugged sort of way. Junkrat had never had a great appreciation for the beauty of nature. Sure, he'd been fascinated by how green grass turned out to be when you actually watered it, but soon the novelty died and so did his curiosity. The things he found beautiful were big and shiny, glittering with the promise of riches and just begging for a touch of chaos... The Scottish highlands weren't exactly a place he'd thought to visit before. Not a lot to plunder, nothing to pique his interest.
They'd landed the drop ship in a relatively concealed position, the curve of the land leaving it in a ditch so that it remained out of sight of anyone not already close. It was hardly a perfect camouflage but Junkrat doubted there were many conveniently sized nooks or crannies to store it in. Once he'd managed to climb far enough up the grassy slope he had a decent view.
He let his gaze rove across the rocky hills and barren stretches of grassland, picking it apart as he usually did, marking every potential hiding spot or vantage point, assessing the best places to conceal his own traps. The habit was almost soothing.
Until he spun, ready to share his thoughts with Roadhog and found only the empty space beside him. Of course. His grin slipped away, falling limply from his face. How could he forget? Even for a split second...
His shaky hands found their way to his bag and he occupied himself with rummaging through it, cataloging his supplies. There was a jacket he didn't remember packing which was at least an answer to the cold... Most of the rest was no surprise but it gave him something to do, because if he didn't, well... he had no idea what would happen. It was easiest to pretend, to go through the motions and not give the panic room to grow. Sometimes you had to narrow yourself down to one thing at a time.
When Mercy called him back they already seemed prepared to move out. Hana's mech stood at the ready with her leaning against its leg, Lucio had his skates on and Symmetra was carrying her photon projector. Mercy beckoned him closer, a little to the side, and Junkrat felt the hairs at the back of his neck rise, suddenly suspicious.
Clearly she wanted a word with him, but why? He was behaving, wasn't he? Didn't remember doing anything that deserved scolding anyhow...
"It's alright," she assured him, catching the tension in his approach, "I just wanted to make sure you recall the mission brief... I don't want to presume but you have a record of memory issues and, well, it occurred to me that you normally ask Mako these things... I wouldn't wish to make you uncomfortable in front of the others..."
She seemed unsure how put it, to kindly ask if he had any bloody clue what he was doing. It was almost funny. Normally he would have giggled – it was absurdly silly how much care she put into how she addressed him, as if everyone didn't already know he was a scatter brain at this point, as if he might have forgotten... Junkrat grinned out of habit, but he suspected it looked more menacing than he wanted it to. It was hard to manage a proper smile while fighting down every one of his instincts.
He wanted to place more distance between them... to find a spot where he could keep everyone in his peripherals, since there was no one to manage his blindside... to keep his hand on his frag launcher and watch for incoming danger, alert for every warning twitch or motion... He had to be ready... but he also had to remind himself that Overwatch was a team... not his enemy.
They weren't Roadhog… they would never be able to put him at ease like his partner did... but Junkrat had gotten on the bloody ship. He'd known what it would mean. Somehow, somehow he had to make this work...
"Jamison?" she enquired politely.
Junkrat's head snapped round at the mention of his name. Mercy just smiled at him, that same perfect, mechanical smile... He didn't like the way her eyes lingered on him. There was a special sort of attentiveness there, a carefully concealed study that he had no wish to suffer through. He looked away, waving a hand vaguely in a sign of indifference.
"Got the gist of it. Job's a job, right? Ain't like I ever get too caught up in the specifics anyhow."
"Humor me?"
He scowled. "Ya wanna talk to some bloke about info, an' wanna make sure Talon don't go interruptin'... seems pretty straight forward to me, piece of piss. Just point at what needs blowin' up an' I got ya covered."
She sighed, though she at least seemed satisfied that he had the basics down. In truth Junkrat's attention had been drifting during the briefing, but he'd picked up enough to understand that the mission was another stab in the dark more than anything.
Overwatch had no real clue what Talon was up to. They knew a few of their agents, had bumped into them here and there, but the rest of the organization remained something of a shadow... Who pulled the strings, and what their end goal might be, persisted as a dark mystery. And Winston had been very insistent that they were up to something...
Talon had existed long before the recall initiative... That they'd resurfaced after such a long time remaining dormant wasn't a coincidence...
Junkrat was not concerned with Talons plans. He'd never cared much about the danger they posed to the world... But he'd never cared much about the world anyways, he'd always been more concerned with his own life. Overwatch had higher principles. It greatly troubled them, particularly the older members. This mission was just one of a series of their attempts to dig up anything that might give them some insight, an edge they could use in the coming storm. If nothing else he could appreciate the desire to see what an enemy was up to.
"Alright then," Mercy said gently, giving him a final once over, "If there's anything you need to be refreshed, don't hesitate to ask."
He offered a mock salute. "Sure thing doc."
She took a few steps back, picking up her staff while she called out to the others. "Off we go then! Keep your communicators on the same channel please, and make sure none of you have left anything in the drop ship - we won't be back for a while."
"Finally!" Hana cried, scaling the side of her mech easily and slipping inside. The thing lurched to life, steps heavy on the soft earth as she stomped about.
Symmetra took an instinctive pace back but Lucio showed no fear of being trampled by the giant construct. He patted at the leg and Hana directed it to stoop down, allowing him to clamber up onto its sloping shoulder. He seemed quite comfortable perched there.
"Hey Rat, you want a lift?" she asked as the mech straightened up. "I reckon there's room for you and Lucio if you hang on tight, just don't scratch the paintwork."
"Yeah, could do with some cushions, but it saves walking... Come on man, the three of us?" Lucio asked hopefully.
Junkrat considered the mech. Like all the machines outside of the Outback it had a sleekness to it, no belching smoke or mismatched parts, no grease along its pink painted sides, no cracks in the visor. He'd seen it in action a few times... Had even got a good look at some of its workings when he'd caught Torbjorn doing some minor maintenance during a trip to the garage. Seemed reliable. Even with the faint jolt of its stride, the stabilizers kept the cockpit relatively level, smoothing out the turbulence. It would spare him the strain the rough terrain would put on his leg.
Yet it would also leave him unable to manage his own positioning, relying entirely on how Hana maneuvered... And if an ambush were to land, what then? He'd have to leap off – risk his balance, waste precious seconds grounding himself when he should already be shooting...
Not to mention it would put him closer to Lucio. The DJ had made no further attempts to accuse him, he seemed suspiciously friendly in fact... But Junkrat was still nursing a quiet bitterness – he had enough to deal with, he didn't want to have to face questions, didn't want to face anyone really, didn't want to risk snapping now while he was busy wrestling all his mounting anxiety down into a tightly lidded box. Didn't want to explain himself.
While he hesitated Symmetra took the time to voice her concern. "That looks neither safe nor professional, I would advise against it. I am sure that there must be some regulation-"
"No one asked you," Lucio cut her off.
Symmetra appeared a little taken aback by the interruption. "I was merely offering my opinion on the matter," she said quietly, folding her hands in front of her. A light frown brushed her features. "I did not intend-"
"You gonna join us?" Lucio asked, ignoring her entirely in favor or Junkrat. He patted the top of the mech, shooting him an expectant look. "Dude?"
Junkrat's fingers curled around the strap of the bag he carried. "Nah," he said, and it sounded harsher than he'd intended. He tried again, heaping a little more nonchalance into his tone. "Spent hours sittin' in that bloody ship, think I'd go balmy, feel better on the move meself..."
His eyes kept wanting to dart over Lucio's expression, to spend a moment deciphering it, but he was unwilling to settle there, flickering away almost immediately to any other detail.
"Well," Mercy said diplomatically when the pause dragged on too long, "There's no harm in walking. I'm sure the exercise will do us good."
He almost laughed on reflex, an anxious sound that got caught somewhere in his throat and emerged more as a strangled croak. Junkrat coughed, thumped his chest and tried to play it off. He could feel them watching him but his own gaze was evasive. He tugged at his grenade harness, attempting to get it to sit right over the fabric of his jacket. "Yeah, ain't like ya want me dangling off that thing anyhow, got a few, eh, volatile materials here with me... Could make for an interestin' experience if I took a tumble. An' by interestin' I mean likely to go up in flames..."
"Best to be cautious then," Mercy agreed, in a voice that sounded just a little too chipper to his dubious ears. Did she know? Did any of his agitation register beyond his normal twitchy nature? It wasn't as if they could see the tension coiling in his stomach, wasn't as if they could hear the thud of his heart...
Shit, he needed to get a hold of himself. Wasn't like it was the first time he'd wandered into danger without Roadhog at his side. He'd survived, he'd always survived... Besides, there was nothing here now, just the possibility of peril lurking in the nearing future, vibrating through him with an energy he wasn't sure how to direct yet. He'd forgotten how that felt.
Junkrat forced a smile, teeth clenched tight. "See? Doc gets it."
"You don't have to, just offering," Hana said. "Not everyone's a lazy bum like Lucio."
"Hey!" Lucio thumped the roof of the mech but she just grinned.
"I only tell the truth cos I love you," she said sweetly.
"More like cos you know you can get away with it."
"It's not my fault you're a pushover. Anyway," she continued before Lucio could retort, "I've got the coordinates so this taxi service is moving out, if you're not along for the ride I hope you peasants can keep up!" She lifted one of the massive guns in a friendly wave before piloting the mech away, clomping up the bank.
Lucio twisted around so he could look back at them. His smile seemed uncertain. "Yell out if you change your mind, yeah?" he called before Hana could get too far.
Junkrat gave him the thumbs up.
The trip passed relatively uneventfully. Symmetra and Mercy set a respectable pace, easy to match with his own limping gait, passing polite conversation between themselves. Junkrat kept his frag launcher in hand and scanned every inch of the landscape.
Despite his heightened awareness there was very little to alarm him, the Scottish highlands were largely barren in nature and what existed had an almost ancient stillness to it, as if the languid sway of heather in the breeze might not have changed in a thousand years. The sudden bolt of a rabbit caught him off guard once, resulting in a smoldering mess and a scornful Mercy, but no real harm beyond his own startlement. Symmetra seemed equally displeased when he suggested it might make a decent snack. He'd only been half joking.
They climbed several hills, but as they wound their way up the steep side of the latest slope, Junkrat's overwrought nerves began to prickle – there was something different. It was the formation of the terrain.
While most of what he's seen so far was relatively open, save for the odd rock or tree, here the ground rose up sharply on either side of the path they took, forming a rivet in the earth. The space was narrow enough that Hana's mech could barely squeeze through, the sides blocking any sight bar the path itself.
Junkrat wasn't an expert but he knew enough to recognize a bottleneck. Man-made, most likely. This was a defensive position designed to be as painful as possible to push through. A few good grenades down here could wreak havoc... no space to maneuver, no choice but to walk forward one at a time right into whatever the enemy had lined up... Fuck.
He ground to a halt, scouring the formation.
This was the sort of place you stayed the hell away from if you spotted it. It meant people were waiting, prepared... It meant they were expecting a fight, had chosen their territory carefully... Unless you were on the edge of starvation it was never worth the risk. Even then it wasn't something you wandered into blindly. A couple of hours staking out the place was always worth the trouble before committing to giddy desperation and explosives, just in case the enemy allowed you a glimpse of them, anything really, to make it less than a bloody suicide mission.
"Jamison?" Mercy inquired, pleasant as always.
He licked his lips, uncertain how to express his apprehension. "Ya sure this is the way?"
"Of course. Hana has the coordinates, and I have my own copy here," she said, lifting a small screen on her wrist for him to inspect. The lines didn't make much sense to him, Junkrat had always had his own special way of making maps, usually consisting of hastily scribbled drawings of landmarks or places that might stick in his memory alongside a near illegible cluster of notes. He could have probably puzzled it out given a minute but his attention refused to settle. He glanced behind them, back down the hill, checking their retreat.
"So we're nearly there then, right?"
She nodded, pulling her wrist back. "Nearly."
"And this bloke ya wanna talk to... ya trust him?"
"Absolutely," she said without hesitation. "He is a friend from the old days and was more than happy to offer his assistance when we asked, he has no reason to move against us. We've been in communication for several days now and nothing I've heard has given me pause."
"Right..."
Still Junkrat's legs seemed unwilling to move. But he couldn't stop here. Couldn't listen to the frantic voice in his head screaming at him to turn back. The longer he waited the more chance there was that Hana and Lucio would notice, might ask what the hold up was... The longer he waited the more apparent his own behavior would become to everyone. He couldn't allow it.
Overwatch needs to work together... if you can't do that, maybe we have a problem.
He had to just put one foot in front of the other, one step at a time, focus on that and tell his mind to shut the hell up because it wasn't helping... If he could just narrow himself down to that he could do it.
Slowly Junkrat began to walk forward.
It felt as if the sides of the path were pressing in like the jaws of some great earthen giant, an impending sense of doom ready to grind them between its teeth and crush the life out of them. If an attack hit here... If an attack hit, it was the worst possible place. Junkrat loved lobbing explosives down a bottleneck. He knew how lethal it could be.
His pace increased, and before he knew it he was jogging up the slope and after Hana's mech. He had to get out. If he could just push past here, break into the open, take the high ground...
Then suddenly they crested the hill and the sides curved out, spilling them onto the level surface at the top.
Lucio and Hana were chatting away but he barely heard it, his attention immediately locked on their surroundings.
The sides banked around in an almost bowl-like formation and blocked any view of the valleys below. It enclosed a wide area, perhaps not enough room to safely land the drop ship, but enough for its purposes. An assortment of plants he couldn't recognize sprouted from the churned ground, and in the center of this cultivation sat a tiny shack with a satellite and a row of antennae balanced on the roof.
It was clearly hand-built. Better than what he remembered from most parts of Junkertown – here the materials were uniform and designed with some sort of cohesion, not the strange hodge-podge of scavenged pieces that Junkers were forced to deal with – but still a long way from the crisp, clean structures that littered the civilized parts of the world. He stared at it, dissecting every detail while Hana gradually began to try and navigate further without trampling any plants.
"How... rustic!" Mercy said as she caught up, sounding a little out of breath. "It must be very peaceful to live here."
"It's wrong," Symmetra said, only a step behind. Her expression seemed troubled. "The angles are wrong. This was not built with proper measurements, nor any professional care that I can discern... It was made incorrectly."
Junkrat ignored her.
"So this is where ya guy's at?" he demanded of Mercy, walking a little further forward as he checked the ground. It didn't look like there was anything nasty buried, but with the disturbance the vegetable garden had made it was difficult to be sure. He moved cautiously, testing each step, eyes flicking back to the shack every few seconds. Hana's mech seemed to have survived so far, which was promising.
"Yes, he should be-" she began, but as she spoke the door of the shack burst open.
Junkrat shot to attention. His frag launcher was leveled right at the door. At the man.
He was a gaunt figure, hollow cheeks and sunken eyes with long grey hair trailing down his shoulders in tangled waves. Most of him beyond his head was hidden by the massive coat he wore, save for a pair of bony hands which clutched a silver gun of unfamiliar design. He pointed the weapon toward Hana's mech.
Slowly Hana waved. The motion seemed clunky but her tone was bright. "Ummm... hi?"
Lucio had his hands raised high in a gesture of peace. Junkrat's finger hovered on the trigger.
Just one move, he thought with his pulse thudding in his veins, just try it. The moment that man went to fire he'd be ready, and the whole damn place would be going up in flames. He couldn't risk taking chances, no here, not now, not without Roadhog at his back… he'd fucking burn it all. Junkrat could feel his grin stretched tight, all teeth and no cheer.
"Hector!" Mercy called out, as if they had just spotted one another across the street on a sunny afternoon. "How are you these days? It feels like it's been forever..."
The man turned his head to look at her. Junkrat's finger twitched on the trigger. Then the man lowered the weapon and beamed. "Angela, as pretty as always, looks like life's treating you well at least. Can't say the same for these old bones but that's nothing new. These kids your team then?"
"These agents," she corrected him, "are with me, yes, and a part of the reformed Overwatch. They're all highly skilled and I would trust them with my life."
"Huh. Well I'm not one to judge, always thought Jesse was a bad idea but he turned out alright, except for that stupid hat... Well, don't just stand there, come on in! I don't get visitors much these days... Kind of expected when you drop into hiding, but that's not to say I don't miss company."
He held the door open, gesturing for them to enter with a broad smile.
Junkrat narrowed his eyes.
Any previous animosity this Hector had appeared to feel was gone, and the others seemed at ease - Lucio was already sliding off Hana's mech to shake hands and introduce himself. Junkrat, however, remained wary. He didn't know shit about this guy. All he knew was that you didn't pick a defensive position like this unless you were prepared to fight... And only someone with practice leveled a gun so swiftly. It didn't matter that Mercy considered him an old friend, it changed nothing. This man was a threat, and as long as he was sure of that he refused to take his eyes off him.
It took all of his self control to finally lower his frag launcher. He still kept it in hand, at the ready.
Very cautiously he followed the others.
The tension in his stride left him feeling stiff, like a machine in desperate need of oiling, each movement sharp, jolting, coiled tight with an energy ready to lash out at a second's warning. He did not want to go near the man. He did not want to step inside the shack.
Junkrat reminded himself that he was carrying enough firepower to level a palace if the urge took him, and that anyone stupid enough to challenge him would quickly discover how happy he was to unleash that sort of destruction if backed into a corner. People had always been strangely unwilling to tangle with the 'manic explosives wielding freak'. It had kept him alive for years in the outback, and it would serve just as well here. The thought was almost comforting.
He still pushed past Hector quickly, ignoring his proffered hand and trying to minimize their proximity, immediately positioning himself so that Lucio and Hana stood between them. His attention dancing rapidly from the man to the contents of the shack, trying to study both.
"So," Hana said, "Mercy says you have info. Does that mean you're like... A spy? A hacker?"
Hector laughed. "No, I consider myself a collector."
"Oh… okay." She sounded almost disappointed.
He waited until Symmetra reluctantly entered the shack before closing the door. Junkrat tried to hide his flinch.
"You know," Hector continued, beckoning them further inside as he bustled through, "when the library of Alexandria was destroyed humanity suffered a terrible blow. What civilization we might be living in now had that knowledge survived we'll never know... Information is the blood of our species, the secret to our advancement... It must be protected."
"I've always thought people were the blood of our species," Mercy said, though from her manner it seemed as if she were teasing, an old debate they had clearly been through before.
"Bah, people are replaceable," Hector said. "We live, we die, that's just how it works... But information can impact the world centuries from now when our generation is nothing but dust."
He kicked aside a rug with his foot, revealing a trapdoor. "That's why I worked with Overwatch back in the day. During the omnic crisis we could have lost so much... I did my best to stop that. Fat lot of thanks the world showed for it. You young-un's will see what I mean, doesn't matter how much of a hero you are, people just want someone to blame sometimes... Once the enemy's gone you'll be all they have to turn on."
"People were probably just scared," Lucio said. "I wasn't there but... man, I've seen videos..."
Hana nodded. "War isn't pretty."
"This isn't like before though…" he continued. "Overwatch returning is a sign of hope, we're just... Trying to make a difference, that's what counts, right?" Lucio smiled, that warm upbeat smile that could melt any heart, no matter how cold.
Hector just snorted, unlocking the hatch and pulling it open. "I love your optimism kid, but give it a few decades and you might change your tune."
"That's quite enough grumbling for now Hector," Mercy chided, "Overwatch was shut down for a reason, but it returned for a reason too, have a little compassion. I'd rather you didn't go filling their heads with tales of doom and gloom."
"Ah but that's my specialty... Not what you're here for though. Guess I should show you what I've been up to all this time." He stepped down the hatch, footsteps echoing on the stone stairs. It sounded deep. It sounded like a tomb.
Junkrat could not see much beyond the small shaft of light cast from the shack, and most of that was blocked by Hector and his oversized coat. What he could see did not look inviting. It was clearly a bunker of some kind, set in concrete with a thick steel hatch that looked like an absolute pain to blast through, and designed to be sealed from both sides.
It would be easy... Easy to trap them down there, to lock them down there with whatever might be waiting... He could break them out given time but not quick enough...
The others shared none of his fears, following Hector down while he chatted blithely about the importance of knowledge in all its forms.
Junkrat took a deep breath. He checked around the shack, peg leg tapping at the floor, finger still poised on the trigger of his frag launcher. Hana, Lucio and Symmetra had already descended into the bunker, and Mercy was close behind. It was too late to persuade them to stop... and even if he wanted to, what would he say? None of his reasoning would meet up to their scrutiny... It was just fear, a distrust that had been beaten into him by the years...
Without Roadhog there it was hard not to resort to that kind of instinct.
But that's what Overwatch was meant to be, wasn't it? Something new... the chance at something more... And maybe that meant taking risks here or there, with the same desperate fury he'd always taken risks... because the alternative meant losing something he couldn't afford.
"Bleedin' hell," he muttered.
His teeth bit into a snarl, left hand curled into a fist as if it could squeeze the tension from him. He knew he had no choice. With his pulse ringing in his ears Junkrat stepped down into the bunker.
The stairs ran pretty deep, a good few meters by his estimation and far more than he felt were necessary, though perhaps the near crawling speed he chose made it seem worse than it was.
The hanging bulbs cast a dim blue glow overhead, but they didn't need to be bright. Thousands upon thousands of tiny lights glittered in the gloom, blinking on and off in an entrancing display of colour... The lights of countless consoles. A data bank. Looming columns of them ran in neat lines, far further than Junkrat cared to explore.
Hana was talking excitedly to Hector as he showed them around, Lucio at her side and Symmetra tailing them silently, surveying the area with her usual attention to detail.
Junkrat hovered at the base of the stairs, unwilling to move away from the exit. Mercy waited with him.
"Jamison..." she said quietly, "I know this is hard for you... but I need you to hold yourself together."
He fidgeted, gaze darting across the room, drawn by each flickering light. He couldn't have kept himself still even if he wanted to. "Nah, I'm apples doc, don't know what ya mean."
She sighed. It carried a strange reluctance, as if whatever she wanted to say could not be aired here, and her sympathetic expression hardened to a more businesslike persona. She still hesitated before she spoke. "May I ask you something?"
Junkrat shrugged. "Nothin' stoppin' ya trying."
"Theoretically... could you destroy this place?"
That caught his attention. His eyes snapped to her, staring at the Swiss doctor in disbelief. She looked like she always did, blonde and angel-like, pleasant, but her mouth was set in a firm line that denounced any possibility of humor. Junkrat squinted, half convinced he had misheard. "Ya wot now?"
"Hector is a friend," she said, putting careful emphasis on the word, "but I don't know what information is down here yet... If Talon were to find us... If I asked you to, could you destroy it? Completely?"
He blinked, gnawing at his lip as he ran a few stunned calculations. "Yeah... yeah, reckon so... Would have to set a few charges but it ain't nothin' special..."
She smiled, that same god damned perfect smile she always used. "Good. I shall keep you posted… for now let's keep this between us."
((I feel kind of... eh about this chapter... I know it's pretty slow, but hopefully you can forgive me. After consideration I think it's probably better to keep moving forward rather than spending time re-writing it entirely for the sake of excitement... hopefully that should arrive in upcoming chapters.
Also apparently this story now has 99 followers here? So, thank you so much guys, I hope you're still enjoying this!
Oh and shout out to Varmint for doing some minor proof reading for me!))
