The Road Hog was an enormous figure. His stomach bulged like a sack of Santa's presents, and his face was an ugly, contorted thing, on the rare occasions it was not covered in his gas mask. Each shoulder was covered in heavy looking plates of armour, as if scavenged, and his legs and feet were the same. Mike imagined that a fist-fight against a man of that size would be almost impossible.
And then there was the hook. In the hours after their brief fight at the gas station Mike had the chance to examine it more closely. His estimations had been correct; the hook was connected to a chain, connected to a powerful winch, hitched to the Road Hog's back. It allowed him to fire the hook at great speeds, latch onto an enemy, and pull them in close to finish them off.
Wrapped around the Road Hog's broad stomach was a tattoo of an engine; exhaust pipes and flames bordering an insanely smiling pig's snout; it was not the image that Mike intended to look at before his death. He felt a brief smack of pity for the foes that had.
Night was falling now. After explaining their desire to reach the government facility Mike knew about, the Road Hog had allowed them to stay at the gas station overnight. It was an uneasy truce, but a truce nonetheless. There was water to go around, and the Road Hog even offered them some of his unperishable foodstuffs. Apart from the odd crass comment from the Hog himself, hardly anyone spoke.
That was until almost midnight, when Mike was watching over Tracy, and the Hog's booming voice interrupted the thoughts of all those around him.
'Who's keeping watch?' the big man asked.
'How about you keep watch for the gas station,' Mercy suggested, voice harsh, 'and we'll keep watch for you.'
The Hog snorted. 'Still don't trust me?'
'Not even a little,' Mike chimed in. Though, to be honest, he did not trust Mercy or Reaper either. Both of them seemed too relaxed, too confident, to be part of the same apocalypse he was.
'Fine,' the Hog said. 'I'll watch. Go sleep.'
Mercy quietly announced that she would keep watch as well. Mike settled himself to sleep, unable to fight the uneasy feeling in his bones, as Reaper stepped outside the doors of the gas station and disappeared.
It was midnight when Mercy woke Mike. The gas station doors were barred with wood, and a few sparse candles lit the darkness. Tracy was still sleeping soundly. He regretted not spending more time with her since her miraculous return to life, but resolved to devote himself to her once the immediate danger was passed.
For now, there was still plenty of trouble to keep him on edge.
'Anything?' he asked.
'Nothing.' Mercy yawned. 'It's a quiet night. Not a sign of robots, or… worse. But I think you should keep watch all the same. I need to sleep.'
'I agree,' Mike replied. He did not bother asking where Reaper was. He doubted Mercy would know.
The angelic figure settled into a corner, leaned her head against the wall, and almost immediately fell into the land of nod. Her breathing was soft, and calm. He could not help but notice the rhythmic rising and falling of her chest beneath her armour, or the poised, beautiful expression on her suddenly relaxed face. Mercy was more attractive in sleep than she had been when awake; if that were possible.
He was committed to Tracy, of course, but there were few enough living people around these days that he could not help but watch people when he saw them. Reaper, Mercy, and Road Hog were the first three living figures he had seen in over a month – besides Tracy.
He looked around the inside of the gas station – a hollowed out shell of a building with almost nothing to see – and found Road Hog in the next room, hunched over a blazing fire. The heat in the room was palpable, as was the tension. Road Hog, who had removed his gas mask, looked miserable.
'Why do you wear that?' Mike asked, gesturing to the head piece.
Road Hog looked across, and shrugged. 'Ain't this an apocalyptic wasteland?' he asked.
'Well, yes, but anyone who survived the first blast is immune for life,' Mike answered. Which, as far as he knew, was the truth. Only those with the strongest genes had survived the blast. They would not succumb to radiation weeks, months, or years later.
'Well, it makes me feel better.'
Mike smiled at that. 'Anything to make you feel better. That I can understand.'
They sat in silence for a few minutes. The fire crackled for them, a form of entertainment that Mike was grateful for, though not so long ago he had enjoyed TVs with all manner of shows. He glanced over at the Road Hog once or twice, wondering what to say, if he should say anything.
'Gimme a hand?'
Mike looked up. 'Sorry?'
'A hand.' Road Hog gestured to the straps around his broad chest. 'To unlatch these.'
Mike stepped closer, and began unclasping the belts and clips that held the apparatus to Road Hog. He could immediately see why the big man needed help. It would be impossible to do alone.
'How do you normally do this?'
'Got a friend,' Road Hog grunted. 'He's usually back by now.'
Mike looked out into the night. When the moon rose, he knew, the world became even more unforgiving than it was during the day. Robots had sensors that allowed them to hunt more efficiently at night. And the hungry undead, or whatever they were, seemed to gain confidence as their prey lost vision.
'Is he okay?' Mike asked.
As soon as he said the words he knew they were insensitive, unhelpful, unkind. The Road Hog cringed as if slapped, then rallied himself and maintained a tough façade.
'He'll be fine. He's been out after dark before. They might have him cornered, but… he'll get out okay.'
Road Hog didn't sound convinced. Mike decided not to question it. They took off the mechanics strapped to Road Hog's back and placed them aside. The big man looked smaller without it. Not much smaller, but… slightly more fragile. Less bulletproof. It was hard to put into words.
'He'll be fine,' Mike repeated.
Road Hog said nothing. He said nothing for the rest of the night. The hours of darkness passed slowly and swiftly, both at once.
The sun was almost rising when the undead finally made their move. Undead, perhaps, was the wrong term, but Mike didn't know what to call them so it would suit for now. They were humans, yes, but they had long since sacrificed their humanity. They were hungry, thirsty, desperate, and they were pulling at the wooden doors with clawing fingers and gnashing teeth. Rumour had it that so many people had died in the Fallout, Death himself had started sending corpses back into the real world. Either way, they were a threat.
Mike was there first. He flicked a shuriken star and caught one of the undead across the neck. It gargled blood, floundered at the window it had been attempting to crawl into, and then fell back, leaving space for a dozen more of the creatures to clamber through. They held each other up as they pressed into the small space. Mike was ready.
He lashed with the katana. First left, then right, cutting down the undefended beings as they scrambled toward him. He took four down before he called for help, realising that the others were not yet awake. He would need help if they were going to see the sunrise.
Road Hog was there in an instant, covering the main door. The huge man jammed his finger on the trigger of his shotgun and dual blasts shot out, massacring three of the enemies at a time. Another blast, then another, and five more people fell.
It was Mercy who came to their rescue. She swooped in, wings spread, and flew straight through the far window, taking four of the enemies with her. They tumbled to the road outside, clawing at her wings, and she cut them down, decapitating two with the staff, a third with her boot, and shooting the final foe in the head with her pistol.
The sun was rising over the horizon, slipping through the gaps between the cliffs. Mike looked out. There were more enemies closing in, rushing up the road like a wave, threatening to break against the building and pull it under. They had little defence. They could not allow this battle to go on. Mike, ever wary of Tracy's injuries, called out to Road Hog.
'I have an idea!' he shouted. 'But we need your hook!'
The Road Hog nodded. 'Then help me get it on!'
Mike slashed with his blade and took the head from the nearest enemy, then kicked at the one behind it, knocking it down. More enemies rushed, but Mike had bought himself a few moments. He hurried to Road Hog, lifted the heavy winch, and began strapping it to the round man's back. He was grateful that he had had some experience with it during the night, or else it would have been a much longer process.
After a few painstaking moments he managed to clasp the final buckle, and the Road Hog charged into battle, his scraps of armour covering almost every exposed inch of flesh, albeit his stomach. He slammed fists left and guns right, breaking down the weakened scavengers, not bothering to shoot or fire his harpoon.
'This way,' Mike shouted, pointing toward the road. 'Follow me!'
Mercy was already there, blonde hair flying in the wind as she was slowly but surely surrounded.
'Where do you want me?' she asked, desperate to be a part of the plan. Mike didn't spare a moment.
'Go and keep watch over Tracy,' he ordered, 'the Road Hog and I can end this.'
Mercy flew back into the room, staff glowing with holy light, as Mike and the Road Hog waded into the rising tide of enemies, slashing and beating them down on all sides. They could only maintain their position for a few more moments.
'What's the plan here, short stuff?' Road Hog asked, deep voice muffled by the pointless gas mask.
'The sign,' Mike pointed.
Beside the gas station stood a tall billboard advertising the deadliest gorge. Mike wasn't interested in it – he had hardly spared the gas station a second glance since they got there – but he knew they could use it to their advantage, if they were quick.
He did not stay around to see if the Road Hog understood. Instead he ran towards the sign, feeling the first rays of dawn sun creep toward him, and tried to draw the enemies toward him with the light that glinted from his blade.
It worked, to some extent. The Road Hog still had to beat down three scrambling, ravenous zombie-people, but he was essentially left alone. Mike, on the other hand, had more than a dozen rushing after him. It was all he could do with the sword to keep them at bay.
'Now!' Mike shouted.
The Road Hog raised his harpoon and fired. The hook jabbed into the top of the billboard and strained against its supports. This would never have worked two months ago, Mike thought, but they stood a good chance now. The billboard had not been maintained since the apocalypse, and the steel was rusty. He slashed and blocked his enemies as the billboard creaked, and gradually toppled forwards. The Road Hog, pulling with all his might, watched with satisfaction as the billboard crashed down.
It flattened eleven of the wilderness-humans, leaving Mike – who had dodged out of the way just in time – alive and well. A reckless plan, but it had worked.
'Well done,' Mike called, panting for breath, but grinning all the same. The Road Hog beamed beneath his gas mask, and seemed about to say something, when suddenly Mike's expression fell.
'Behind you!' Mike screamed.
Road Hog turned in time to see another dozen of the mindless humans rushing him, arms outstretched, dusty clothes falling away from them ineffectually. There was no time, no opportunity, to fight back. Mike wanted to help, but he was too far, and there was still no sign of the Reaper, who had disappeared overnight. Mike could only watch…
Road Hog leapt into the fray of enemies, knocking the first two down with him as the following score clambered forward. And then Mike heard the rip of an engine.
'Fuck,' he swore to himself. The last thing they needed now was robots.
He followed the sound and saw, at the top of a cliff face, a scrawny looking man with a tyre in hands. The ragged man pulled at the ripcord a second time, and the tyre started spinning, as if on an independent motor. While he held it down with some difficulty, the ragged man lit a fuse and then, finally, released the spinning wheel, cackling wildly at himself.
The tyre flung forward, treads digging into the hardened desert floor, and flew across the open air from the top of the cliff, spinning all the way. It landed only two meters away from the Road Hog; although, really, landed was not the word.
The tyre exploded two meters away from the Road Hog, sending tongues of flame licking in all directions, consuming the eight or nine zombie-people it impacted against. The people fell, writhing and screaming beneath the fire, as the Road Hog stepped back. One remained. It rushed Road Hog, and had its throat torn out by the hook for its trouble.
'Who the hell is that?' Mike asked, looking up at the top of the cliff. The wiry man looked exhausted, covered in grime, and eccentric, with jagged hair that reached like lightning for the heavens. But he was grinning down at the Road Hog like they were old friends.
'That's Junkrat,' The Road Hog took off his gasmask and grinned, an expression of relief written all over his features. 'That's my partner.'