Junkrat didn't take prisoners. At least, not on purpose. Sure, there had been the odd civy they'd picked up during their international crime spree, mostly just cos they were there and Hog insisted that, unlike the outback, people were less likely to shoot you if you stuck some random sucker in the way.
Taking prisoners meant you had a whole other person to deal with, someone who'd happily kill you the second they saw a chance. That was a risk he didn't need. Better all round to end things quick.
He understood, of course, why people took prisoners. Sometimes there were things you couldn't simply snatch from a corpse, things that took time to drag out, and there would be only pain pain pain-
No, killing was the proper way.
Overwatch had set him a task though and whatever they wanted he was prepared to deliver. If Sombra was no use to them in pieces that was their business, she'd tried to shoot him and so Junkrat was hardly harboring any particular sympathy for the woman.
"Reckon that sheila's a slippery one, though," Junkrat muttered as he and Hog made their way down the hallway. "Got a world class disappearin' act. Thought I had her pinned back on the last mission, honest, 'cept she up an' vanished thanks to some bullshit, and it ain't practical."
But... maybe it was better he hadn't killed her. Gave Overwatch a reason to keep him around, gave him a job to do. If he caught her now then he proved something to them, right?
A thought struck him and he squinted up at Roadhog. "Hey... I asked ya about Dorado? That happened?"
He nodded. "Saw her there, yeah."
Junkrat scratched his chin. So that hadn't been a lie. He'd half been hoping it was, if only because he didn't like the way she'd looked at him last time they'd crossed paths, like she knew so much more about things than he ever would.
"An' she wanted somethin' from us?" he asked.
"Had info on the bank. Just wanted us to hit it on the right day."
He chewed on his lip for a moment. "We was a distraction for her... why the fuck did we do anythin' she wanted?"
Roadhog shrugged. "Was your idea."
Except he couldn't remember. And he fucking hated it.
Sometimes he felt like the world was lying to him, because he knew he wouldn't have done that, except he had, and he couldn't strangle his past self for being an idiot anymore than he could understand his thought process at the time. Probably something about gold.
He sighed, throwing his hands up. "Forget it, ain't important... what matters is she ain't gettin' away this time. Need some way to shut off whatever thingo she uses to bail out when things ain't goin' her way. We figure that out, then we just gotta give her a reason to come to us. An' she will, cos I reckon she ain't that hard to bait."
"Stupid?"
Junkrat allowed himself a grin, confidence working its way back into his stride as he spun around and began to walk backwards, facing Roadhog. "Nah mate... cocky's the word for it. Thinks she knows everythin'. Thinks she can twist people round her little finger with just a few words. Maybe she'll bet on it bein' a trap but we just gotta give her what she wants. Somethin' dumb an' hasty, what she'd expect from a couple a blokes like us, somethin' she can step around an' feel all high and mighty about... and not notice what we're really up to."
Roaghog was silent for a moment, but Junkrat could recognize the angle of his head and he knew they were on the same wavelength.
Eventually his companion gave a grunt of approval. "Not a bad idea."
Junkrat snickered. "Course it is, told ya plenty of times, I'm a genius! And I know you're makin' a face under there right now, but here's the thing, mate, there's a reason I'm still here and it ain't just luck." His grin widened, and he tapped the side of his nose. "Ya just gotta be smart when they ain't expectin' it. Spend a lifetime with folk underestimating ya and you learn a thing or two."
Roadhog gave him a look, maybe not one that Junkrat could see but one that he felt. "...you fell off a cliff days ago."
"I didn't fall ya pig!," he squawked, feigning a kick at the larger man's shin and nearly tripping over in the process.
Roadhog just rasped out a laugh. Catching his balance Junkrat resolved that walking backward was too much effort, and turned to face forward with his head held high in his best attempt at dignity.
"Besides, that ain't the point. Not sayin' I don't fuck up here or there, be a bloody miracle if that stopped happenin'. Nah, I'm just sayin'... it ain't always a bad thing, playin' into expectations."
His legs slowed of their own volition, and he found himself at a halt.
"Know what you're doing then?" Roadhog asked.
"Bloody right," he muttered. "First things first though, gotta dismantle me glorious work cos some folk got no appreciation... shouldn't be too hard to rework it, then we got a basis for our trap. Half of it, anyways. Then... then..."
Ideas began to trail away, slipping through his fingers along with his smile and he was hit with another problem that he'd buried somewhere in the back of his brain.
He hadn't wanted to think about them. Not yet. Too quickly his mind latched on to the idea though and Junkrat knew there was no point trying to escape, because all he could think of was the night before and how he had refused to turn his gaze toward them, terrified of the expression he might find waiting for him.
Lucio and Hana...
He needed to straighten things out sooner or later, because avoiding them was one long and drawn out path to misery... but he knew they would be disappointed, and it hurt.
He hated that he'd given them the power to do that. Junkers knew better than to give people power.
But... maybe he wasn't even a Junker anymore. Not really. What kind of Junker agreed to let an omnic live? A real Junker would have left this place in rubble a long time ago and carried anything of value along with them.
What did that make him then? Them?
He'd been a Junker his whole life, he didn't know how to be anything else. Yet here he still was...
That wasn't the problem though. Lucio and Hana were the problem. He needed to focus.
Junkrat screwed his eyes up, fists clenched.
He could fix this. He was fixing everything, so he could fix this too. Easy, he was a genius, wasn't he? Had said so moments ago. He just needed something, some clue, some hint, the first step laid out for him so he could...
"I've been here before," he said aloud, a connection sparking in his mind as his eyes shot open.
Roadhog tipped his head.
Junkrat caught the gesture, snorting. "Nah, not here, mate, well... course I've been here, walked through this bloody place plenty by now, what I mean is here... like, this..." he said, waving his hands around as if his meaning would magical convey itself. "This situation. Me fuckin' up."
Roadhog said nothing.
"Oh shut it, ya know what I mean. Point is, I fixed it then and I know how to fix it now."
It was a perfect method, tried and tested, something he could rely on. Maybe fate was on his side just this once because he remembered.
His grin was triumphant. "Change of plans, mate. Sombra can wait, got somethin' else to take care of first."
Junkrat was a firm believer in trial and error - which was to say, his life was a trial, and he was in a constant state of error. You couldn't go through such a mess without picking up a thing or two, it was only fair.
He'd learned a lot simply by staying alive. Unfortunately, while facts and figures tended to stick along with the more instinctual lessons, his recollection of events were patchy. Things had a habit of slipping through the cracks now and again.
Junkrat had no real way of knowing how much was missing, nor was he entirely sure he wanted to know, but while it was frustrating it at least gave him a special kind of appreciation for the memories that he could dig up. He loved recalling things on his own without prompting. He loved it even more when they proved to be useful.
Several weeks ago and long before the whole databank fiasco Lucio had made the mistake of trying to take food off of him. That had ended in a spectacular disaster, and Junkrat had been sure there was no recovering from it, he'd just been unable to bring himself to find out.
Until Hana had stopped by long enough to let him know he was being an idiot.
She was right. One hastily cobbled together gift and a stammered apology, and all was forgiven. He could still remember the tentative smile Lucio had rewarded him with in perfect clarity.
This, Junkrat decided, told him something important: when you fucked up big time, you gave someone a prezzie and told them you were sorry. Then, they forgave you. It was simple really.
The real problem was what he was supposed to give them.
Solving that little detail was what he set himself to as he parted ways with Roadhog, slinking off toward his own room.
He could build a pair of skates, but Lucio already had a pair of skates far better than anything he could cobble together, and any sound tech would likewise be outshone by what the DJ already had.
Something with frogs again then? And a rabbit for Hana? But what?
Maybe it would just be easier to give them something he didn't need to make.
Getting away from HQ to buy crap was a pain, and the older half of Overwatch would probably want to know what he was up to on the off chance he was planning to destroy a monument or rob some suit. That left him with only the stuff he already owned.
Well, giving them explosives was out of the question. They might appreciate snacks, but none of the stuff he'd hidden away was likely to impress them either. What did that leave then? Gold?
He'd certainly appreciate it if someone presented him with a gold bar. There were a few he'd smuggled in when him and Roadhog first arrived, safely tucked beneath his mattress. He supposed he could part with a couple.
Wasn't like he did much with them, if he was being honest. For all they'd stolen during their crime spree, neither of the two former Junkers spent more than the odd dollar here or there, payment was optional and it wasn't like they'd needed much beyond necessities. Junkrat's interest in gold was... well, it was because he knew it was valuable, and when he saw something of value his instinct was to take it.
He'd probably accumulate more wealth than he knew what to do with by this point. It just... built up, but his brain hadn't managed to catch up to the concept of having enough. All it took was the promise of more and he was glittery eyed and ready to snatch.
Two bars though, he decided, was a fair token of his sincerity. All it was lacking was the personal touch...
And the personal touch was important.
He mulled over the dilemma for a minute before it finally occurred to him that gold was just another metal, and metals could be melted down and reshaped given the right tools. Torbjourn was certain to have everything he needed.
Cackling at his own brilliance, Junkrat set his plan into action.
The door was closed.
Junkrat hovered outside, shifting unhappily from foot to peg leg. As a rule of thumb, the door was not supposed to be closed. It was tradition. Games nights were an open invitation so Hana always left her door ajar if she wasn't out on a mission, enough for the light and sound to spill out, for him to know they were there. That they were always there, waiting for him.
But the door was closed and the hallway was quiet and still, and Junkrat felt unease prickling beneath his skin.
Was this a sign? A message?
It was all wrong... wrong, wrong, wrong...
He caught the whine in his throat, stamping it down, but made no move to stop his restless pacing as he drifted back and forth.
He'd thought he had the perfect approach, a plan he could trust in, and yet things were already falling apart at the seams and the confidence that had buoyed him leeched away with every jolting step.
Better just to leave...
He had other things to do, right? Wasn't anything wrong with putting stuff aside for later. A problem for another day, another night, a moment when the door swung invitingly from its hinges and he wasn't left trying to unravel the meaning behind the solid and impassible shape that had no right to block his path.
Except...
Except he couldn't leave, because... because the door was closed, and the longer his mind ticked over that fact the more the sense of wrongness crept over him, and with it a conviction he could not shake.
He needed to fix things. He needed to fix them now.
Junkrat brought himself to a stop.
His plan could still work, nothing had changed, this was no more than a speed bump and he was not the kind of bloke to let a little inconvenience keep him from what he wanted.
He could do this.
Closing his eyes Junkrat took a deep breath, checked his grin was in place, and sidled up to the door. He knocked.
Then came the hard part – the waiting.
He rocked back on his heel, trying not to count the seconds.
More than anything he wanted to tear the bloody door off its hinges... to blow it down... to be rid of it, and find his answer ready for him on the other side.
Something immediate, that was what he wanted, because oh did the time drag by - he could hear it in his head like the tick-tick-tick of a pipe bomb edging ever closer to a fiery end. Something was building in his chest that was not excitement.
His peg leg began to creak. He wanted to pace again.
Then the door cracked open and Junkrat was ridged, caught in the narrow light that cut into the corridor with nowhere to hide.
Hana looked tired, and she didn't return his fervid grin. "Sorry Rat, we're, uh... we're not doing games tonight."
"Oh..." he said, like an idiot, and wished momentarily that he'd thought a little harder about what he was supposed to say. "Right, gotcha, you eh... ya got a minute?"
Hana hesitated, glancing behind her.
Stretching to his true height Junkrat was able to peer over her head, enough to see Lucio slumped in his usual beanbag, the controllers resting on the ground. The screen was frozen on what looked like one of the Mario Kart maps.
He blinked.
Hana turned back to him, face contorted in a wince. "Can you make it quick?"
Junkrat bundled any wounded feelings away and remembered to sound cheerful. "No problem!" he chirped, more shrill than he'd intended. "Should only take a tic, just had some stuff for the both of ya. Wasn't sure what was best so I eh, kinda had to wing it, ain't gonna take offense if ya reckon it's ugly, but... but I know I owe ya somethin', I know that... so, take it, would ya?"
He bundled his gifts into Hana's arms before she could protest, already feeling lighter in more than metaphor.
"Rat," she said, and he wasn't sure if she sounded exasperated or remorseful but he wasn't about to stop.
"I fucked up again," he gabbled, "an' ya don't need to tell me that. Ya ain't happy, I get that. Was a right drongo as usual and it'd probably be quicker to make a list of folk who ain't pissed at me right now. The fireworks were fun... and I ruined it... I shoulda just..." He cut himself off with with a frown, holding a hand up as he scrambled to find his place. He was getting sidetracked. "Look, point is, I'm sorry, yeah? That's all I'm here for. What I came to say. So..."
Cautiously he let his eyes dart up to check her face, eager for a reaction.
Hana's expression was pained. "Rat," she said, "you can't just... listen, this doesn't just fix everything, you get that, right?"
Junkrat stared, eyes wide and grin faltering.
"She's right."
Lucio's voice carried across the room. Hana glanced back at him again, and Junkrat watched as he pulled himself from his beanbag with a sigh, trudging over to join them at the door. He spared a moment to look over the gifts cradled in her arms before he settled his attention on Junkrat.
"I'm sorry man. Hector was one thing. You told us it was self defense, that you had no choice, and we believed you. But Zen hasn't done a thing to you and you tried... that's not okay, do you understand? Do you understand what I'm telling you?"
"But-"
Lucio held up his hand. "No buts. It wasn't okay. Something like that will never be okay. I'm gonna say it right now so we're clear on this, if you ever try something like that again we're done. I don't want anything to do with someone who'd do that kind of thing."
Someone like that. Like him.
He'd known from the first day, really, that he wasn't like them. That he wasn't good like them. Cos being good was only an abstract concept that folk in the outback had no time for, and he didn't understand it, even when he tried. It was something people were, and he wasn't.
He knew how to survive, to be greedy, to take what he wanted no matter the cost and destroy what got in the way.
He didn't know if he could ever stop being like that. Or if he cared enough to want to.
Maybe it was what they hoped for, but it was all so vague to him. Morality was a blurred and twisted thing that seemed to bend and shift depending on who was speaking, how anyone understood where the lines were was a mystery.
Kill these guys, don't kill those, steal this, not that...
He only did what he thought he needed to do. Why was that always so wrong?
What Junkrat wanted... what he wanted was to sit down and play video games... to have them smile, to laugh at his stupid jokes... to act like they wanted him there, like he wasn't a mistake.
And maybe he wanted to feel like this was more than a building, not a temporary hole to shack up in but a place that had meaning. A place there was a reason to return to. People who waited for him. Needed him. To feel like he wasn't just... passing through, like always, waiting for the next reason to move.
He didn't want to be good, the word had no meaning, he just... he just...
But they didn't want him there. They understood now, and they didn't want him, they'd realized it was never going to...to...
No, that wasn't right, that... wasn't what they'd said.
Junkrat took a deep breath, brows knit tight in concentration as he ran over the words. He needed to get this right. "A-again..." he tried, testing the term, "ya said again? So... s-so if I don't..."
"It's not us you have to apologize to, Rat," Hana said.
Junkrat stared. There was no comprehension in his gaze. "Then who..."
"Apologize to Zenyatta. Properly. And then maybe we'll go from there."
Go from there... And where was there to go? He hated the uncertainty in that offering, the weight of it, crushing. It was not a promise of forgiveness. Why couldn't they just say it? Spell it out clearly in a way that even he could grasp.
They wanted him to apologize to an omnic. Maybe that was their punishment to him. Maybe he deserved it. Maybe this was the last thing they would ever say to him before they closed the door for good, and every time he walked by he'd see it shut and know just how royally he'd screwed up.
His eyes were drawn to the ground. They zipped restlessly to the corners of the room, but did not return to their faces.
"Ya hate me now?"
Fuck, no, that was stupid. That was stupid, and soppy, and pathetic, and entirely un-him, and he didn't know why the words had slipped from his mouth but he clamped his jaw tight and turned abruptly to leave.
"Dude, don't do this," Lucio called, and Junkrat's pace slowed momentarily as he lingered in the hallway, "it's... complicated. We get that you have reasons to feel like you do about omnics, but we need to know you're not gonna act on those feelings. That you're better than that. Because you should be."
"And if I ain't?" he asked, a bitter curl to his lips.
Lucio didn't say anything for a moment. When he did, his words were soft. "Then maybe we were wrong. Maybe this isn't the right place for you."
"But you're the one who gets to decide that, Rat," Hana added, before he had the chance to retort. "Go apologize to Zen. Until then, we'll be waiting."
Junkrat glared at the floor. His shoulders tightened.
"Well don't fuckin' wait up," he spat, and this time he didn't hesitate as he strode away.
They didn't stop him. A small part of him wished they tried, even if he'd only have ignored their attempts. He hated every step he took, every turn, every stride he put between them but he couldn't seem to slow even if he hadn't yet worked out a destination.
He'd had a plan. He'd though he'd figured it out, got things right for once. Huge lot of crap that turned out to be.
His fist hit the wall, the impact running up his prosthetic with a jarring bolt of pain.
Junkrat hissed, snatching the limb to his chest where he cradled it. He wanted to pull the metal off, seeking immediate relief, to air the wound, soothe it.
But he bore the pain anyway, teeth bared in a grimace.
Maybe this isn't the right place for you.
It was all the bots fault. If it hadn't been here, none of this would have happened. Things would have been perfect and he never would have given Lucio or Hana a reason to look down on him, to turn away.
And it was probably everyone else's fault too for letting the bot be here in the first place. They should have known better, should have known that was a real recipe for disaster. It was...
No, the truth was it was his fault. Things always were.
Junkrat's stride finally slowed, and he spared a moment to check his arm over now that the pain had dulled to a familiar ache.
He just wanted things to go right for once. One day, just one day where he didn't screw things up and everything went the way it should.
"It ain't supposed to be so bloody hard!" he snapped at the empty hallway, and half contemplated throwing another punch before he thought better. The wall was not a very forgiving enemy.
Shaking his mechanical fingers as if to shed any lingering stiffness he let out an unsteady breath. "Shoulda opened with a joke, reckon that might've gone better, right?...Nah?"
There was no one to answer him.
Cursing loudly he looked up and down the hallway, picking a direction.
He didn't go to find the omnic.
Instead he retrieved all that was left of his firework materials from the workshop and dragged them out to the training range, lighting the whole pile ablaze.
The initial blast sent a wave of heat washing across his skin. After that it fizzled and popped as it burned, odd bursts of colour flaring as the compounds caught. It was a disappointing display, but somehow it felt appropriate. He wanted to see it all in ash. Fireworks had been a mistake.
Staring at the dying embers with narrowed eyes he picked methodically at the fraying edges of his shorts, still unwilling to move.
The smoke fled with the wind. All he was left with was a pile of blackened debris and none of the satisfaction he'd hoped for.
Junkrat trampled over the mess, kicking it all directions before finally placing and detonating one of his mines for good measure. Only when there was no trace of the materials left did he trudge back inside.
He searched for the omnic.
Zenyatta was not generally hard to find. The bot had a few usual haunts, all of which Junkrat had memorized when he'd been trying to figure out what to do about the thing after learning of its existence.
It only took him ten minutes to track it down to the observation deck, basking in the last slithers of sunlight as it read from a tablet covered in the squiggled lines he'd come to recognise as the omnic language.
The wide windows overlooked the training range. Why it liked this spot Junkrat didn't know, but it occurred to him quite suddenly that it might have been watching him. It was the perfect place to do so.
He scrutinized the thing with an air of suspicion, yet it was far too enraptured in whatever it was reading to notice and Junkrat eventually concluded that it was only a coincidence. He hoped. He really hoped.
Not even the nearing creak of his peg leg caused it to stir as he edged closer, keeping against the wall and shuffling round until he was confident he had its blindside. That felt safer.
This was the perfect opportunity. He could just spit the words out and turn back the way he'd come, it would all be over before he had a chance to think too hard about what he was doing, before the reality of the situation sunk in.
It was too late for that though. Even looking at the thing filled him with a mixture of fury and revulsion, the idea of speaking grew steadily harder to stomach. It was an omnic. It was an omnic, and worse of all it had every right to be dead. If it was then none of this would have happened and everything would be perfect...
But that was never going to happen. He needed to accept that he had failed, that the thing was here to stay, at least for now.
Symmetra reckoned omnics were just machines, that there was nothing to fear from them when you understood the programming behind their actions. But Junkrat couldn't make head or tails of this one. It had no reason to act the way it did, to help him, lie for him, plead forgiveness on his behalf. It wasn't like an omnic should be, but it was still... not human. A machine. One he could not wrap his head around.
He didn't want it here. He hated it. And he was expected to fucking apologize.
"Did you need something, Jamison?"
Junkrat startled at the sound, reaching for a frag launcher he didn't have. The bot had looked up from its tablet, and its faceplate was turned toward him. When had it noticed him?
"No," he snapped, bracing himself instinctually, but the it made no move to come closer.
"Are you sure? You've been standing there a while."
"No, I..."
The thing still made him feel sick just looking at it. All shiny, and perfect, and wrong. He wanted to back away and flee... he wanted to tear it into tiny pieces...
The words he needed were jumbled and he could not choke them out, they tasted like bile, and the urge to spit in its shiny metal face plate and storm off was nearly overpowering.
He tried to remember it back in the sealed room, all quiet and agreeable, not a threat. It wasn't a threat.
He grit his teeth. "Was just... I mean..." he tried once more, clasping his hands together to keep them still. Why was it so hard? It was just words. He could do words. "I... fuck it, alright, yeah, I'm sorry. There, I said it!"
His shoulders sagged in relief, laughter bubbling free. There, he'd done it! He'd done it, and Lucio and Hana would let him back and he could bury this whole nightmare like it never happened. They would play video games again in the evenings, and listen to Lucio's music, and tease each other about stupid things and smile like they were supposed to. Everything would be alright.
"Are you?" the bot asked.
Junkrat jolted back to reality, flicking his suspicious gaze over it.
Was he what? Sorry? "Maybe," he said, without enthusiasm.
"And what would it be that you are sorry for?"
He didn't have to stay, did he? He'd done what he came to do, and he owed the thing no answers. The less time he spent in its presence the better. Still, he found himself shrugging. "For tryin' to off ya. Figured that was obvious."
The omnic hummed. "So is it remorse that you are feeling right now, or have you realized that my death would bring consequences with it?"
"The fuck does it matter?" Junkrat demanded. "Apologized, didn't I? What else do ya want?"
He should leave. The thing would only encourage him to hurt it, and then everyone would be mad again and he'd have to find another way to fix the mess, and he'd be going round and round in circles.
But backing away was admitting weakness, wasn't it? Shit.
"An apology is meaningless if there is no sentiment to it. I wish to understand what you are thinking. Then I will be able to accept or decline your apology."
Junkrat's eyes widened. "You can decline?"
He hadn't known that.
"Of course," the omnic said smoothly. "One may apologize for their actions, but it is not up to them if that is enough to restore balance."
Junkrat chewed this over. His shoulders hunched, hands drifting to his pockets to find something to fiddle with. He could tell it he was a changed man, that it had won him over and he'd realized the error of his ways and loved omics now, but that was bullshit that even a toaster could spot. There was no disguising the way he still looked at it, the way he instinctually reacted to its presence. Omnics made his skin crawl. Even the weird ones.
But if Overwatch really wanted it... well...
Junkrat cleared his throat. "I reckon ya still a thing, ain't a person... an' I don't want ya here..." he said, plainly, and it nodded along as if this was all to be expected. Junkrat steeled himself.
"But ya ain't tried to kill me yet, and I reckon you would have if ya wanted... didn't have to try covering for me neither. Or... or any of that stuff... but ya did, so maybe what I'm thinkin' is there ain't as much of a reason to get rid of ya as I thought... woulda been... unnecessary. So I'm sorry for that. And I don't like ya, I don't trust ya, I don't even bloody understand ya, but maybe... maybe you're not what I was thinkin' ya were..."
The omnic hovered there in silence, and Junkrat wasn't sure if it was waiting for more or just processing what he'd already said.
"There, that answer ya question?"
After another second of stillness omnic bowed its head. "Thank you, Jamison. I accept your apology."
Junkrat eyed it for a moment longer. He hated the motionless steel of its face, the complete lack of expression - it gave him very little to read, and he hadn't learned its tics in the same way he had for Roadhog, he didn't even know if the thing had tics. "This don't mean we're friends."
"I should hope not!" the bot said, amusement weaving its way into its robotic tones. "Nevertheless, I am grateful you took the time to speak to me. I hope that your trust is something I may eventually be able to earn, but for now I will settle for an end to the murder attempts."
For some reason the idea of returning to Hana's door immediately lost its appeal half way through his journey. The bot still weighed on his mind, something about its behavior set him on edge in a way that had nothing to do with what it was, but more to do with the fact that it continued to remain an enigma. He couldn't puzzle it out.
Thinking about it got him all tangled up again, and it would be easy if he could settle on the seething hatred that still burrowed deep in his chest, but beyond that a budding sense of confusion was beginning to stir. It left him awry, off-kilter without the conviction he was used to.
An omnic was an omnic, and an omnic was an enemy. It didn't matter how good it was at pretending, he was not a fool.
In any case, he wouldn't have to speak to it again, he'd done his job and now he could go back to Lucio and Hana and forget the whole ordeal. That should have been an appealing prospect, but Junkrat had another problem.
If he returned to find the door closed again, he wasn't sure what to do.
They could turn him away. They could, and if they did he would be left with nothing but failure and his own spiraling thoughts, and that wasn't what he needed right now. He needed... he needed someone who was not an omnic, someone who would sit there and listen and not look at him like he was the only one to blame.
In the end, it was Roadhog he searched out.
He found the larger man in his room of all places.
Not bothering to announce himself Junkrat waltzed in, already talking as he removed his satchel, dumping it on the desk. "Today was fuckin' aweful, mate!"
Roadhog glanced up. "Rat-"
"Nah, I spent hours makin' 'em gifts and ya know what they make me do? Apologize to a fuckin' bot! So I did, and... an' it was awful... things got this way of soundin' so... what's the word... lofty? All serene like, but in a way ya just know it thinks it's better!" He cleared his throat, putting on his best impression, "Thank you Jamison for no longer trying to murder me, I hope you trust me now."
His nose wrinkled in disgust. "As if I'd ever trust one of those things."
"Rat-"
"And I didn't even get started on me traps!" He threw his arms up. "Wasted time is what it is! Could be halfway through some proper, glorious death machine and instead I was chattin' away to a bot while they play Mario Kart without me!"
"Rat-"
"Plus me arm an' leg are bein' a bloody nightmare, and I know what ya gonna say, that's me own damn fault for not takin' 'em off, and ya may have a point there but-"
"Rat," Roadhog growled out, and this time something in the tone caught his attention. Junkrat paused his rant, shifting to examine his bodyguard in more detail, reading his posture. There was a stiffness to his stance that warned him this was important.
Letting his arms drop he cocked his head to the side, eyebrows raised inquiringly. "Yeah, mate? Everything good?"
He shook his head. "Sombra."
"Oh, her," Junkrat scoffed, pulling a face. "I ain't forgotten, mate, just been busy is all, like I was sayin'-"
"She left a message."
Junkrat paused. Slowly, he lifted his head to stare back at his partner's mask. "She what?"
"A message," Roadhog repeated, and Junkrat's eyes went wide.
He whistled, low and appreciative. "Blimey... She's got some nerve, I can tell ya."
He had, after all, tried to kill her last time they'd met. But no... this was good. If she was willing to talk, that could make luring her into a trap that much easier. With a bit of luck he could use this as a catalyst to spring his plan into action, and once he delivered her to Overwatch then at least someone was bound to be pleased with him.
Clapping his hands together in one loud bang he grinned, energy returning. "Right then, what's she got to say, mate? Let's hear it."
((Finally! I always feel bad about making people wait, but part time study+work+all the ways I waste my time makes it hard to get stuff out. I've managed to pass the 100k word point on this fic at some stage though.
If you guys ever want to keep up to date with how drafts and stuff are coming along, I tend to post about it on my writing tumblr (spectre-writes). There's also a Zen 1-shot that I'm picking away at which might be done sometime this year, and someone's asked about something with Sym, so I'm thinking about that.
Thanks so much for reading, and for everyone who's taken the time to comment!
And lastly... I don't think and Lucio have realised they've just been handed a large chunk of solid gold.))
