Junkrat's memory was sketchy at the best of times. He'd never found any particular rhyme or reason to what he forgot, save that names would often take awhile to sink in, generally he was forced to accept that no matter what, there would always be gaps he wasn't even aware of. Most of the time it wasn't a problem. Most of the time Roadie was there to set him straight if it was. Now, however, he felt himself at a severe disadvantage.
He watched the woman, trying to find something familiar. She was clad in an obscene mix of vibrant purples, pinks and blues, silver accenting her overcoat and the long nails extending from her gloves. Even her hair was tinted at the ends, half of it shaven away to allow for the augments reaching to her temple to be seen. Everything from her garb to the way she held herself should have been memorable. Yet Junkrat found nothing lurking in the back of his head.
"So... ya know me then?" he asked, eyes still drawn to the gun. It hadn't wavered an inch.
"Oh, I should think so. Dorado? No? Not ringing any bells?"
Ah, that he did remember. Him and Roadhog had run a heist there, they'd lived like kings for days after on the spoils. "Good bank there... took a small withdrawal."
"Si. You and your friend helped yourself to a lot of gold while I was busy with LumeriCo, a nice distraction wouldn't you say? How would you feel about returning the favor?"
Considering his position he didn't have have much of a choice. "If ya wanna work somethin' out I'm listenin'."
She lowered the gun slightly and he remained where he was crouched, body tense but motionless. Junkrat could tell despite her casual posture she was watching him, waiting to see if he would make a move. He still had a bomb beneath the fingers of his left hand. Part of him itched to use it but he knew that was a bad idea, they were too close together and it would take time to detonate. If he wanted to risk a fight the better option was his frag launcher, resting on the ground just by his knee. He could snatch it now, end this, but if she pulled the trigger first...
"Now, here's what I'm thinking..." she said, "there's no reason for us to be enemies, I'm not here to hurt anyone... all I want is to take what I came for and then I'm gone, all you have to do is be a good boy and wait. Then... maybe I'll drop by for a chat some day... you have some secrets people would be very interested in, Jamison Fawkes. I think we could be good friends."
"Don't even know ya name, sheila."
"Call me Sombra."
"Ya part of Talon huh?"
"Maybe. Do we have an agreement?"
Junkrat weighed his options. Whatever happens Talon must not get the information stored here, Mercy had said. He could still picture the intense look on her face, as if willing him to understand the importance of her words. But why was it his problem?
He'd never much cared about Talon's plans, save that he got paid for getting in their way. He'd never joined Overwatch to save the world. All he'd wanted were selfish things, things he'd grasped for on a whim without really knowing why.
If Sombra got what she wanted then she would leave, and Talon would have no need to attack anymore, he and the rest of the team could go home... that was the reason he'd come down here in the first place, wasn't it?
"Well, Rat? What'll it be?"
Shit. There was no Roadhog here, maybe it was best to just go along with things... but... but... the doc wanted that information buried for a reason, and whatever she wanted to hide couldn't be what they'd supposedly come here for. Junkrat wasn't stupid. There'd be no point in stopping Talon retrieving data on themselves. So it had to be something else...
"You get what ya want from down here then and when ya go Talon goes too? No one gets hurt? Seems too good to be true if ya ask me... Plenty of 'em dead now, ya ain't holdin' a grudge or nothin'? It that special?"
She shrugged. "I told you, no te preocupes, I'm not here to hurt anyone. All I want is your cooperation... but the longer you take to make your mind up the worse it looks for your little friends above, no?"
Junkrat narrowed his eyes. Whatever the information was didn't matter, he was certain now – Sombra was a threat.
She knew how to smile, how to speak in an almost playful tone… yet behind it all there was a cunning he did not like, not one bit. How skilled she was with her gun he wasn't sure, but she was clearly the sort of person who liked to toy with other people – he'd seen a few of those back in Junkertown. They were always dangerous. Trusting them was the last mistake a person would make. Often literally.
"Got a counter offer for ya right here," he said. "You fuck off an' I won't have to blast ya into tiny pieces. Sound good?"
Her smile faded, expression growing dark as she raised her gun again. "Careful, amigo, don't want to go making a fool of yourself."
"Right back at ya," Junkrat said. He grinned. He didn't intend it to be friendly. "If ya know me, if ya know anythin' about me, then ya know I don't take well to threats... ya know I've been on the run for years... and ya know what happened to anyone stupid enough to catch up. How much you wanna bet I don't have somethin' planned for a moment just like this, eh?"
She sighed. "I don't want to hurt you, Rat, but you're in the way."
"Shoot me an' this place goes up in flames, you along with it."
"You're bluffing. Your eye's twitching, can you tell? Poor little Rat, all alone, nobody to watch your back... must be terrible."
Somehow she knew, somehow she fucking knew, like she was crawling around in his head, reading his every fear. Just the thought of it made him nauseous. She wasn't supposed to be able to tell. His own weaknesses needed to stay under wraps, his threats needed their sting, she wasn't supposed to smirk at him like an adult spotting a child's pitiful attempt at covering up a lie. No, he had to hold it together.
Junkrat focused on keeping himself steady, hiding any trembles. He needed a new plan, a way to catch her off guard and use that to his advantage.
Sombra shook her head at him. "You don't want to play hero. You know there's no such thing."
"Shut up," he growled. Think. He needed to think. Couldn't let himself be intimidated like some spineless wuss.
"Come on, there's no need for this. I told you we could be friends, no? It would be such a shame to waste that opportunity. Think of Dorado. You could use a friend like me... Let me take what I want and you can do what you like with this place once I'm gone, who's to know any different, hmm?" she said, spare hand held palm up as if to air the question. Confident. Overconfident, dare he say. "It's just us here, what's the point of risking your life when no one's even around to see, not even your notorious partner?"
Junkrat bristled. "Ya think I'm scared of ya?"
"I think you're smart enough to know this gun isn't just for show. This is your last chance, time's short and a girl only has so much patience. What'll it be?"
Junkrat stared at the gun. He scowled, gnawing on his lip for a moment. "Ya get this info you want... then all them Talon pricks are gone, you too, an' ya leave us be? I got ya word on that?"
"Of course."
He mulled it over for a second longer. This was the best shot he had really. "Alrighty then... Guess we got an understandin'."
Slowly he lifted his left hand away from the bomb he'd been working on, raising both arms up to show he wasn't hiding any sneaky detonators.
Sombra watched as he got to his feet. She smiled again, lowering her gun. "Bueno, I'm glad-"
He punched her.
One great thing about having a metal arm, Junkrat reflected, was that it didn't matter if your technique was crap, it still hit like a steel pipe to the face.
She reeled back, blood gushing from her nose as she cursed in Spanish. Junkrat was already going for his frag launcher. At the same time though he saw her make a gesture with her hand and her form began to shimmer.
"No ya bloody well don't," he snarled. He left the launcher where it was, instead lunging forward to grab her by the collar of the coat. His fingers dug into the fabric. It had a strange texture, but he had no time to ponder it because she was already disappearing. His grip did not loosen. Before she had a chance to try and pull free he shoved with the weight of his body and the tire still strapped to his back and sent them toppling to the ground.
The landing was jarring, he hit his knee but was rewarded by the sound of her breath leaving her in an 'oof', her form flickering back into view.
Junkrat snatched for her gun. Immediately Sombra kicked out at his peg leg, gripping his harness as she upset his balance and twisted in one lithe movement, flipping them over. He hissed as his back slammed into his tire.
For a moment the pain stunned him. He was only just quick enough to bring a hand up to seize her wrist. Even so the spray of bullets grazed his shoulder as he grappled for control, his teeth clenched in a grimace. Her own expression was just as tense – no pretty smiles now. Blood was dripping steadily down her face, her eyes narrowed and lips set in a tight line of fury. He needed to end this quick. He wasn't going to lose. He wasn't going to die.
Junkrat threw her off, rolling onto his hands and knees as he dived after her and went for the gun once more, tussling in a livid tangle of limbs. An elbow hit him in the chin. He yanked her hair hard enough to draw a shriek. They clawed and bit and kicked across the floor like creatures possessed, senseless to any common decency.
Whatever happened, he knew he couldn't let her have the gun. Nor could he let her slip free enough to use her disappearing trick. His grenades were as much a danger to him as to her at this distance, he had to leave them untouched... but Junkrat knew how to take a beating, he'd weathered a savage brawl or two before in his time... just had to... end it.
He slammed them into one of the consoles, thin metal denting under the impact and Sombra gasped, eyes wide and dazed. Junkrat tried to pry the gun from her fingers but she shook herself. Suddenly she struck back, digging her nails into his injured shoulder until he was forced to forget the gun in a bid to stop her from cutting further into his flesh. Fuck that hurt.
He smacked them into the consoles again sending sparks across his own vision. Her grip weakened and he scrabbled blindly with his right hand for the gun. Wires tangled his fingers instead. Junkrat pulled back, tearing them loose. Waste not want not.
With a surge of energy he slung the wires forward, wrapping them around Sombra's neck and yanking them taunt. She let out a startled 'ugk' as her air was cut off and then her gaping mouth was silent, gaze boring into him with a special kind of hatred. He wound the wires around his right hand. With his left he gripped the arm she still fought to lift the gun with.
It was done. No matter how Sombra struggled, Junkrat refused to let go. It didn't matter how much it hurt, how she clawed or kicked or tossed them about, he knew if he just held on then he would win and with that thought in mind he found the strength to endure. The longer it lasted the weaker she grew. The longer it lasted the clearer the victor became.
Grinning through the pain he stared her down. "Still wanna be friends?"
She lashed out, raking her nails at his face and he snapped his eyes shut to keep from losing them... and when he opened them, she was gone.
The wires were slack in his hand.
He sat dumbfound, heart still pounding in his chest. Another trick?
Tentatively he stretched out to wave across the empty space where she had been seconds before but nothing connected. Sombra had vanished. And, like, none of that invisible magic bullshit neither, actual proper to god disappeared, gun and all. Where she might have gone he had no clue.
Groaning with effort Junkrat staggered upright and let the wires fall from his grip, turning instead to limp back toward his frag launcher. His shoulder was still bleeding. Stung like crap, along with all the bruises and scrapes and cuts that littered his body, but he might have been able to ignore it if it weren't for the metallic taste lingering in his mouth. He spat blood, gently poking at one of his gold teeth to see if it was in danger of falling out. Didn't want to lose the thing.
"Ya still out there?" he asked the empty room, snatching his launcher up and turning to address it properly. "'Cos if ya are, wanna make meself clear. Don't ever threaten me, or any of my mates, ever again! I ain't playin' around, and if you're thinkin' about a round two you're askin' to get burnt. I ain't lasted this long by bein' a pushover."
Silence met his declaration as he stood rooted to the spot, eyes flickering left and right in desperate search. Still nothing.
He fired three shots off in random directions, listening to the familiar 'tink' as they bounced across the ground and the warning buzz, quickly followed by a muted explosion. No Sombra though.
Junkrat tried to ease the tension in his muscles. There was only him and the flashing lights of the consoles, alone in the echoey tomb of the bunker.
Perhaps, he thought, she was gone for good. Probably needed to take a breather... ha, no, that was a terrible attempt at a joke. Got a giggle out of him though, and damn if that wasn't therapeutic.
A crackle sounded in his ear and Junkrat flinched. A moment later he realized it was only the communications channel, Mercy's voice perfectly distinct despite the background noise.
"Jamison? Progress report?"
"Uh, yeah," he said, clearing his throat. "May have hit a few... potholes, so ta speak. No worries though, I got it sorted, just gonna take me a few mins. Ya doin' okay up there?"
"It's not looking favorable. I don't have time to speak, just please, hurry."
She ended the transmission before he had a chance to respond.
"Right..." Junkrat looked over at the open bag of explosives, still lying where he had left it when he'd begun to rig the place.
How had he planned to set it up again? He frowned, kneeling beside his work as he once again ran a few quick calculations and, as they usually did, things started to fall back into place. His hands moved deftly, arranging charges, stringing wires, cannibalizing bombs from his collection into his creation until it spanned across the entire bunker in a patchwork masterpiece. Beautiful, Junkrat thought, but only because he knew what it could do.
While he kept his ears pricked there was no sign of any return from Sombra, so as soon as he'd done a final check to make sure everything was in place, he backed up the stairs, detonator in hand. He left the duffel bag behind, there was more than enough room in his satchel for what he had left, as sobering as that fact was.
The shack was empty but he thought he detected the faint crack of gunfire in the distance. He didn't have time to worry about it. Mercy's tone alone had been clear on the urgency of the matter. Even though he liked to savor moments like these, with the key to destruction lying inert in his palm, awaiting his touch, he did not linger more than a second.
Slamming the hatch to the bunker Junkrat backed away a few paces and flicked the safety off.
"Kaboom," he uttered in one hushed breath, and squeezed the trigger.
The first blast was soft, muffled, like the backfire of an exhaust pipe from the battered old utes he remembered rattling around in his youth. The one that followed was louder. Each detonation built upon the last, a chain reaction rising to a cacophony that reverberated through the very timbers of the shack.
And Junkrat laughed, because of course he did. Nothing ever hit him quite the same as the sound of his own explosions. It was their volume, their distinct nuances, knowing that they were all his, his - that he had shaped them, brought them to life - and that all the destruction that followed was purely by his design. That power was his. When he held it, the world felt right. It was exhilarating, intoxicating, it was-
"No no no no no..."
The words snapped him from his moment's indulgence. Junkrat spun around, frag launcher raised. Hector stood wide-eyed in the doorway to the room.
"No," he repeated, like somehow if he said it enough then reality would realize its mistake. His breathing was heavy, oversized coat disheveled. He appeared almost dazed.
Junkrat watched him warily, fully conscious of how his pathway from the room was currently blocked. Whether it was intentional or not it didn't sit well with his instincts. He paused for a moment, then decided to play it casual.
"Sorry mate," he said with a shrug. "Just doin' my job."
This, apparently, was not the right thing to say. The older man's gaze finally seemed to focus, latching onto Junkrat's figure with a sharp intensity. "You destroyed it, didn't you? You little shit! You... you fucking-"
"Like I said, just doin' my job, nothin' personal about it. Ask the doc if ya like."
Hector was not so easily soothed. The rage working its way across his gaunt features was unmistakable, his very form seemed to puff up like an animal bristling at its foe. He pulled his gun out and leveled it at Junkrat. "That... was my life's work. I think it's plenty personal."
Junkrat considered the silver gun, and how very familiar this situation felt. This time at least he had his frag launcher in his hand, although he was down to his last two shots... not that Hector was to know that.
"Look mate, I've already been through this whole song an' dance with some other dipstick, I ain't lookin' for a fight. Was just tech, right? Just data? No reason to go gettin' someone killed over that... specially not yerself."
"People are replaceable," Hector spat. In that moment, Junkrat was certain of one thing. Hector was going to pull the trigger. Junkrat knew, he'd learned how to read it, to see the decision written in someone's posture, in the tiny movements people made as they readied themselves. Junkrat fired first.
Two frags flew across the space between them, a shot whisking past his own ear as he lurched forward. Hector proved surprisingly nimble for a man of his years, dodging both projectiles, and Junkrat's swinging fist. Junkrat let his empty launcher clatter to the floor and snatched Hector's gun arm, angling it away from himself.
Hector responded with a sharp punch to the chest, a kick to the knee, and a hard enough shove to send them both pitching over. For the third time that night Junkrat landed on his RIP-tire. He bit back a whimper of pain. This was the worst sort of Deja vu.
Hector was still struggling to pull free from Junkrat's grasp on his arm. However it must have become obvious to him that he clearly didn't have the advantage in strength because he changed tactic, jabbing a fist into Junkrat's injured shoulder.
Junkrat shrieked, baring his teeth in an immediate snarl as he retaliated. Hector was old. Hector was thin. Junkrat was pissed, and what he lacked in training he made up for in muscle and fury. In such close quarters he held the advantage.
A few good solid punches and Hector was swaying. Junkrat knocked him onto his back, straddling his chest as he pried the silver gun loose and pressed it to his forehead. Hector stared up at him, and of all things... of all things, he was crying.
Junkrat strengthened his grip on the trigger. He had to pull it. You never hesitated, you never gave them the chance, to do so was risking your own life... so... what was he waiting for? Why hadn't he done it? Why was he sitting here like a fool? It's how things had to go... and yet... he remembered the way Mercy had spoken to him, the emphasis she had dropped on the words as if trying to impress the significance of it upon him.
Hector is a friend, she had said. She had meant it. Regardless of Mercy's plans, she fully considered this man important, and she wouldn't want Junkrat to kill him.
It wasn't his job to care though, was it? Why should it matter to him what she thought? Especially when her orders had nearly got him shot twice.
But somehow... it did. And Lucio wouldn't like it either. Nor would Hana, probably... and while all his instincts shouted at him to put an end to this, he still found himself hesitating.
He smelt something smoldering. His frags must have caught on some part of the shack, he didn't dare turn to look, he needed to deal with the problem before him.
Junkrat clicked his tongue in irritation. "Listen..." he said at length, "it ain't no secret I don't like ya very much, reckon that's been pretty apparent... an' you did just try to kill me, which I ain't exactly fond of either... but I get that that stuff down there was pretty pretty special to ya."
"It was more than-"
Junkrat cut him off. "I ain't in the mood. Just listen, yeah? What I'm tryin' to say here is, okay, so I blew up ya databank or whatever, and, sure, ya tried to shoot me... I'm willin' to call that a fair trade and leave it there... we both forget all about it, right? We're square, done, ya leave it be. Do you get what I'm tellin' ya?"
Hector sniffed, blinking back his own tears. "You expect me to just forget what you've done?"
"Mate," Junkrat said, pressing the gun a little firmer against Hector's skull, "you don't got a lot of options right now. I'm makin' an offer I don't usually make, so think real careful about what ya want."
"What I want is the thing you destroyed," Hector said. There was an almost palpable misery in that voice, a grief that carried in each wavering syllable.
Junkrat was unmoved. "Then build yerself another one, ain't my problem."
"You think I have time? At my age?" He gave a pitiful laugh. "That was supposed to be my legacy. That was my library of Alexandria... and you burnt it."
Something was burning, Junkrat was sure of that, he could hear the crackle of flame beginning to creep, and the scent of smoke was growing stronger. If they dragged this out much longer it was going to be an issue.
Hector glared at him with watery eyes. His resolve was hardening.
Junkrat clenched his teeth in frustration. "Ya ain't damn well listenin', I told you-"
Hector snatched for the gun.
Junkrat pulled the trigger. For a moment he simply sat there as he drank in the sight before him. Then he let out a tired sigh. "Was tryin' to be nice for once, ya bloody drongo," he muttered. "Was tryin' to be nice..."
He pulled himself upright, tossing the silver gun away in distaste. Quite how he was going to break the news to Mercy, or the others for that matter, he had no clue, but he didn't expect them to be pleased. Not that he thought he'd done anything wrong. Bloke had a chance, wasn't his fault he was too bleedin' stupid to take it, was it?
Well... one way or another they'd find out, no point dawdling while the place was on fire. It wasn't a true blaze yet but fires had a way of picking up speed, he knew better than to hang about.
Junkrat went to retrieve his frag launcher, empty though it was, and made his way out of the shack without a backward glance.
The night air felt crisp by comparison but more alarmingly peppered with the crack of gunfire. He ducked low, dashing over to where the others were gathered behind another of Symmetra's barriers. Mercy spotted him instantly, concern crossing her features as she catalogued his various injuries.
"You're wounded, are you-"
"It's nothin', had a tussle with some Talon sneak earlier an'... stuff... it ain't important now, why haven't they gone?" he demanded, gesturing to the group of Talon agents steadily approaching. "I thought ya said if I blew the place up that'd be it, that they'd piss off? Thought ya said that'd work. Why're they still here, huh? Didn't they hear it?"
"Oh we all heard it," Hana said, aiming her pistol ahead, "Hector just about had a fit. Probably trying to glue the wreckage back together now, don't expect help from him any time soon."
Mercy pursed her lips. "I'm sorry, I assumed... I thought the information here was the only goal they could be here for. If we removed it, then it made sense that they would have no cause to attack... I don't understand why it didn't work."
But Junkrat did. He was just surprised he hadn't realized immediately.
He groaned, tugging his own hair at the sheer stupidity of it all.
It was a rule he'd spent most of his life learning, and almost messed up minutes before, it was the simple way that things had to be. If you knocked your enemy down, you didn't give them the chance to get back up again. You finished it, and saved yourself a fight in the future.
Talons numbers might have been thinned out, but they still had the clear advantage and they intended to push it.
In formation with their riot shields held up, Hana's pistol, Mercy's blaster, and Lucio's sonic amplifier were more of an inconvenience than a threat, even with only a dozen meters between the two groups they didn't have the raw power necessary. Symmetra might have been able to give them something to dodge but she was busy trying to keep her barrier replenished, trembling with the effort. Cracks were already visible in the blue sheen.
What Talon saw was weakness.
"Reckon they're lookin' for a consolation prize," he said with an empty chuckle. He held his frag launcher up on reflex, grip tightening despite the futility of the action. "Team of Overwatch operatives. Wouldn't hurt to clean 'em off of the playin' field, right?"
"Oh," Hana said, "that makes sense. They'll want to break the barrier, force us to retreat into the house then spread out to surround us. We'll have nowhere to go."
"So... tell me we have a plan?" Lucio said, attention flicking between the three of them. Mercy and Hana said nothing, clearly still thinking.
Junkrat was thinking too, rapidly running through the possibilities in his mind. They needed to hit Talon with something hard, to knock them down too, even it out... if not then this fight was lost. There was only one thing he really had left.
"Well... still got this," Junkrat told them, dropping his frag launcher and hefting the RIP-tire off his back. The spikes dug into the ground.
It was a sinister looking thing, thick black rubber with heavy grooves and dangerous metal, the remaining portion of the hubcap doing little to hide the homemade engine packed within. That, and an obscene amount of explosives. It was his favorite invention by far and saved precisely for times like these.
He patted the side affectionately. "Land it in the middle of 'em and it should clear 'em out. Might not kill any stragglers but should do the trick, unless there's a bunch hidin' somewhere else. They want an easy fight. Take that away an' they might think twice."
"As far as I'm aware, they have no other squads waiting," Mercy said, glancing at Symmetra as if she was expecting some sort of confirmation, but the architect was locked in intense concentration. "In any case, if you think it will help then you certainly have my permission to try."
"Weren't askin' for permission," he said wryly, loosening the start up cord and pulling the detonator from his pocket. He set his pegleg on the top of the tire, keeping it in place.
"Do you need us to stand back or anything?" Lucio asked, eying the contraption warily.
Junkrat shook his head. "Nah, just don't jump in the way or nothin'. All ya gotta do, ladies an' gentlemen, is enjoy the show."
He pressed his weight down on his peg leg as he gripped the cord, then yanked back hard to jumpstart the engine to life... except... expect nothing happened. No roar, no smoke, not even a whir. Junkrat regained his balance, staring with mounting horror.
"Bloody... fuckin'..." he couldn't even form a proper curse, it was all wrong. This RIP-tire was supposed to be his trump card, it wouldn't let him down like this... Somehow during one of his scuffles the engine must have taken some damage... his own fault. He'd built it to be sturdy but he must have misjudged it, hadn't tightened something up properly, or maybe just picked a piece too delicate for the job...
"No no no no!" He gave another useless tug on the cord. He kicked it. When it remained stubbornly lifeless he bent beside his creation, eyes skimming over the visible parts of the mechanics. He didn't have time to tear it apart. Didn't have time to fix it. His panicky fingers scuttered along the surface of the tire as if willing it to somehow mystically heal itself.
The others took in his agitation with grim silence.
"Well," said Lucio after a moment, "what's our back up plan?"
"My barrier will not last much longer," Symmetra contributed weakly.
"Then we have no choice," Mercy decided. She straightened up, drawing on some last reserve of confidence. "Jamison, I may need your help moving Hana. We'll have to fall back to the house... it will give us a few minutes at least."
Junkrat just giggled, sitting back on his haunches as he ran his shaky hands through his hair. "That... ain't exactly an option any more either. May have burnt that bridge... ha, kinda literally."
Lucio turned to him, exasperation in his tone. "Then what do you want us to do, man?"
Good fuckin' question.
Without any proper response to Talon the fight was as good as done. There was no Hog to turn things around, or to make the call for him, Junkrat had to decide for himself... and he knew, as he always had, that survival was what mattered. He couldn't allow himself to be cornered.
What did he have? A grenade, a pair of concussion mines, an empty frag launcher and a tire that refused to move. Wasn't winning with that.
The only other option then was escape. He might be able to use the concussion mines, blast himself down the hill. He'd have to leave the others of course. Hana's leg was busted, and he couldn't haul them all along with him. Worked better if they were there to distract Talon anyways. Why would Talon bother with one skinny rat when there were four other Overwatch agents to deal with? It could buy him time. Maybe he could remember his way back to the dropship, see if he could bully the AI into flying it, or work out the damn controls for himself if it came down to it... and then... and then...
Then there would be no more Hana. No more Lucio. No more games nights. No more lazy afternoons spent helping with music, or plotting pranks... No more chats with Symmetra in the workshop. No more doc to patch him up, or even her strange smiles.
But sometimes you had to leave others behind, right? That's what you did. If all else was lost, better someone got out alive. He'd just have to scrape by for a while, move on like he was used to doing, people always passed so quickly you weren't supposed to get attached...
And yet... he was sure that if Roadhog were here, if it were Junkrat stuck with a busted up leg, that no matter what... Roadhog wouldn't leave him. Never. And... as little sense as it made to him... Junkrat didn't want to leave them either.
Was this what he had wanted? It was stupid. It wasn't how things were meant to work, but abandoning them felt wrong, wrong enough that he couldn't abide it, and that was a lark. He'd been pretty sure he was willing to do anything to keep himself safe. Certainly that used to be true. When that had changed he wasn't sure. Maybe after Hog, maybe more recently...
Guess he really was a fool after all.
"Listen mate," he said as he stood up, picking his RIP-tire off the ground and swinging it over his back, locking it into place, "I wouldn't count us out just yet, yeah?"
Lucio glanced down, rubbing at his own face tiredly. "Sorry. I'm not saying that. There's gotta be something we can do, if we believe, but... I dunno know what, okay? If we can't fall back to the house where do we go?" He looked back up again, watching him expectantly.
Junkrat shrugged. "Don't got all the answers, but don't worry 'bout it. You just hang tight."
Mercy was studying him suspiciously. "...what are you planning?"
It was Hana that worked it out though. She tensed up suddenly, lunging for his leg. "Don't you dare."
Junkrat skipped neatly out the way. He smiled at her, teasing. "Told ya before, didn't I? Ain't the best at followin' orders."
He'd already made a quick estimation of the distance between himself and the cluster of Talon agents. He'd run through the possibilities.
If he couldn't leave the others behind then he didn't have many choices. Doing nothing was as good as resigning himself to his fate, and he'd never give up like that. Even in the times he'd been certain he would die Junkrat had been determined to burn as much as he could along with him. He'd make it as painful as possible for anyone who thought they'd found an easy kill. He'd make them regret it, if that was the only bitter satisfaction he could dredge from the ashes.
None of this was what he had planned, but there was no Roadhog here, and when faced with impossible odds the one thing Junkrat had found that could possibly save him was sheer recklessness. Better the slimmest of chances than accepting defeat. He'd cackled at such danger before. In a way, it was far easier to enjoy the exhilaration when there were no other options. Junkrat had made his mind up.
If his RIP-tire wasn't going to move by itself... well, he'd just have to move it, wouldn't he?
This might be the right time to say something, something dramatic, memorable... but with all the adrenaline racing through his veins all he wanted to do was laugh. So he did.
With a final mock salute to the group he took two steps, slapped his concussive mine down, and flew. Terrible kick to it, he'd have to look at making some modifications if he ever wanted a batch for personal use. Not something to worry about now. He had other matters to deal with.
It would have been almost comical, sailing through the air with flailing arms toward the formation of stunned Talon agents, if a couple of them hadn't seemed to remember to shoot. Hot metal grazed his hip, another shot tearing through his jacket before it whisked off into the night, a third embedding itself in his lower torso. Then gravity pulled him down and Junkrat crashed into their ranks.
The shock absorbers of his peg leg creaked in protest as he hit the ground, the impact shuddering up through his crouched figure but Junkrat stuck his mechanical arm out, catching his balance. He didn't have time to fret about the searing pain in his gut. Talon were already turning.
Junkrat hefted the tire from his back and let it drop. As they raised their guns he tossed the second of his concussion mines beneath him, just as someone tackled him. His breath left him in a whoosh. He blinked back stars.
Shit. Not part of the plan. Weren't guns good enough for some people?
Junkrat lifted his head, glaring daggers at the Talon agent who'd knocked him down, attempting to kick him loose. No, that wasn't going to work, no time, no time...
With a snarl he activated the mine, hurling them both away from the main group.
The trajectory was wrong though, the distance off... the fall had ruined his placement and he hadn't calculated for the added weight of some fucker clinging to him. He couldn't even stick the landing, instead slamming into the earth and tumbling twice before coming to an agonizing stop.
Groggily he reached into his satchel for the detonator, not daring to look behind him.
Was he far enough away? He had no bloody clue, but if he didn't settle this now he'd lose his opportunity, it'd all be for nought. No point half-arsing it, right?
Junkrat offered up a final silent prayer and flicked the safety off. He closed his eyes. Then he hit the trigger, and the world exploded into flames.
((Longest chapter so far! I sort of feel like I should maybe apologise for the violence, but I don't know... I just can't write Junkrat as someone more passive...
Also, to the random guest who complained about Sombra's sudden appearance, I understand your argument and would make a response, except that I can't reply to guest reviews. If you want then message me and I'll give my reasoning from a narrative perspective, but otherwise... I honestly don't know what you expect me to do about it, sorry.))
