The sound of Widowmaker's heels ringing against the polished marble floor echoed down the sterile white hallway, which made her tenser than she'd ever admit. In this silent corridor, the sound was deafening, the whiteness blinding. She was a speck of vibrancy in a colorless void. Not something you want if you're a sniper. She stuck out like a sore thumb, nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. Ripe for the killing should an enemy sniper be camped at either end of the seemingly endless hall.
Despite it all, the Talon agent's face betrayed nothing of the instinctual unease hiding within her. Her expression remained cold and emotionless, as though she'd find no more dangers here than she would whilst walking through a field of daisies. Of course, she hadn't any real reason to fear for her safety here, not like an infiltrator normally might. After all, she'd been invited.
As she reached her destination, the wall before her turned a bright, transparent blue before flickering away entirely. It surprised her a bit more than it really should have. Hard-light constructs were what this company was best known for. She stared across the threshold for a moment, taking in the room's contents. It was as sterile and blindingly white as the rest of the place, decorated with slowly spinning blue holograms tracing out intricate patterns over the walls. In the middle of it all was a large white desk, behind which sat a gray-haired, middle-aged man wearing a suit of the company's preferred style. Behind him stood a woman in a blue dress.
Widowmaker stepped through into the room, and the wall flicked back into existence behind her. The man at the desk smiled when she jumped slightly at that, the skin around his eyes creasing in amusement. She responded only with an icy stare. She glanced down at the nameplate on his desk. 'Abhisara Vishkar.' She'd assassinated more important men than this for less. Perhaps after all of this was done, she'd add him to her list.
"Thank you for coming on such short notice." Vishkar greeted, the barest trace of a Hindi accent coming through in his smooth voice. "I would like to thank you and your organization for all of your hard work in tracking that Junker man, but I'm afraid my patience in this matter is not boundless. Have you made any progress at all in the past few weeks?"
Widowmaker couldn't help but wrinkle her nose in distaste at the way this man spoke to her. He may have been Talon's current client, but what right did that give him to treat her like one of his common employees?
"Ze trail 'as gone cold. He 'as been taken by Overwatch. Z'eir location is still unknown to us." she reported, trying her best to keep a sneer off of her face. Vishkar nodded, lacing his fingers together in front of him on his desk.
"It is as I'd suspected…" the man replied with a wistful sigh, though he didn't seem terribly upset at the news. "Honestly, I'd expected more from Talon…"
This last remark was enough to make the sniper ball her fist up at her side, at which Vishkar held up a peremptory hand.
"Now, now. I did not call you here to antagonize you. We are allies, if only for the time being. I would instead wish to help you in your mission, and for this I need your talents in particular."
Widowmaker let out a sharp scoff, and she almost couldn't keep herself from rolling her eyes at the man. She settled for impatiently folding her arms across her chest.
"So now you finally want ze rat dead?"
"No!" Vishkar snapped back immediately, his tone shifting from its usual mild amusement for the first time since she'd arrived. "You cannot kill him under any circumstances. The information he has is the true target here. I need him alive."
"Z'en why hire a sniper?" she hissed in reply, her patience running dangerously thin. Vishkar did not respond to her directly, instead making a gesture to the woman at his side. As she stepped forward, Widowmaker turned her attention fully on her for the first time since she'd stepped into the room. Now that she thought about it, this woman looked rather familiar. She recognized the particular style of her dress, her distinctive visor, as well as the apparatus on her left arm. If she recalled correctly, she went by the name 'Symmetra.'
Symmetra raised her hands before her, weaving a hard-light construct with fluid, elegant hand motions. Within moments, what looked like a biotic dart floated above her palm, a glowing blue liquid encased within. Widowmaker arched a thin eyebrow at it, looking down at the architect for an explanation.
"It contains nano-machines that we will use to create a link with his mind. Simply hit him with it, and we will take care of the rest. Make sure it hits the first time. Our research shows that Mr. Fawkes is deathly afraid of snipers – with good reason. If you miss, I guarantee you will not get a second shot."
Widowmaker narrowed her eyes at the woman, snatching the dart away from her.
"I never miss."
Meanwhile, about halfway across the globe, the Overwatch base had fallen decidedly quiet in the days following the whole bath fiasco. Junkrat had more or less barricaded himself in his and Roadhog's quarters, not daring to leave unless his bodyguard was with him. Even then, it was usually the Junker Enforcer out and about on his own, and usually only to grab some food and bring it back to their room for his employer. While the silence was a welcome change from the chaos that hung around the hunted man like a fog, the sudden change was a tad unsettling to say the least.
Of course, the absolute dressing down that Mercy had given those involved in the incident may have contributed to it. She'd been absolutely livid with them – mainly the three who originally initiated everything. Honestly, after seeing firsthand exactly how terrified Junkrat had been of that stupid kiddy pool, the lot of them genuinely felt pretty bad about it. That was probably why McCree found himself marching reluctantly down the hall towards the Junkers' room with a very insistent Reinhardt at his back.
"Do not look so glum, mein Freund! I'm sure ve vill have a vonderful time!" the knight rumbled out, clapping a huge hand against the other man's back, nearly knocking him to the ground in the process. McCree endured the blow with a grunt, but managed to stay upright.
"Yeah, sure. Like wrastlin' a rabid coyote…" the gunslinger grumbled mostly to himself, his hand moving up to adjust his hat. The two stopped in front of the appropriate door and, after a bit of prodding from Reinhardt, McCree raised a fist preparing to knock at the door.
"Sit your arse down, would ya? Yer makin' me fuckin' dizzy, watchin' ya pace in circles like that…"
The sudden deep rumbling reverberating from behind the door was enough to make the gunslinger pause before knocking. That was definitely Roadhog's voice – he could tell only by the pitch – but that had to have been the first time he'd ever heard it clearly enough to make out a solid sentence. The reason for this sprang to mind almost immediately; he must not have his mask on at the moment. A sudden surge of curiosity and impulsiveness made McCree's hand veer towards the doorknob, but he was stopped from making what might possibly be a life-ending decision when he heard the frustrated half growl, half whiny shriek coming from the other occupant of the room.
"I can't stand it anymore, Hog! I hate being cooped up in here! If I don't get outside soon, I'm gonna burn this damned place to the ground!"
"Yeah, and who's fault is that? This was your bloody idea. Or would ya rather take your chances out there with Talon?"
The response was another inarticulate noise from the other man before the uneven 'thunk-ping' of Junkrat's angry pacing resumed once more. The relative silence was enough to break McCree's daze, and he finally gave a knock at the door. The pacing came to an abrupt stop, followed by a frantic scrambling of boot and peg-leg. There was a heavy, gruff sigh, before the sound of several buckles being fastened could be heard. It was another moment before the door finally opened, Roadhog's massive form looming overhead, his mask securely in place. His only attempt at a greeting was an impatient, questioning grunt.
"Uhhh… Howdy..?" was all McCree managed to get out now that he was standing in the shadow of the mountainous Junker. The bodyguard's fists slowly balled up at his sides, his impatience quickly evolving into something a bit more dangerous. Luckily, Reinhardt was not quite so intimidated by Roadhog's size – for obvious reasons – and stepped in.
"Ah, my friends! Ve vere vondering if ze two of you vould vant to join us for ze evening! Ve are having, as you say, a guy's night out!"
At that, a pair of beady hazel eyes peeked out from around the edge of the doorframe, staring at the two agents with obvious suspicion.
"Yeah, an' why the fuck should I trust you two tossers? I've got half a mind ta plant a live grenade in ya bunks for what you lot did ta me!"
"We're bringing booze." McCree interjected flatly. As expected, that one little fact changed the entire tone of the conversation. Junkrat, his aversion to stepping outside his room suddenly evaporating, squeezed past Roadhog to stand before the two other men, his arms outstretched welcomingly and a huge grin on his face.
"Mates!"
It was actually almost into the next morning before the lot of them left for their 'guy's night out,' mostly because they wanted to wait for it to be night time at their ultimate destination. Surprisingly enough, Soldier 76 had authorized the use of the dropship for recreational purposes, if only for this one time. The excuse of preventing the Junkers from getting cabin fever turn out to be a very convincing argument. Still, he probably wouldn't have agreed so readily if he knew what they were taking along with them – mainly several cases of assorted alcohol and some of Junkrat's explosives. This, of course, made a certain someone practically giddy with excitement.
Strapping Junkrat into his seat had become a necessity, since he'd be bouncing around the ship if he wasn't. However, he was so excited to be getting out into the open air after nearly a month of being cooped up in the Overwatch base that he hardly seemed to notice. He was currently rambling on about it to a very disinterested Roadhog, though one could tell by his relatively calm mood that he was glad to be getting out too. Reinhardt sat nearby and was currently having a loud, joking conversation with Torbjörn. Lúcio was pouring over his audio equipment, hashing out the music to be played during their little outing. McCree stood by the controls of the ship, having a bit of an argument with Athena about whether or not she knew where she was going. She did, of course. Finally, Genji was tucked away in a corner by himself, looking a bit glum as though he'd been dragged out there against his will. Winston had been invited, but it was decidedly harder to drag a gorilla out of the base than a small ninja.
Finally, the ship lowered down at their destination; the Grand Canyon. It was still early enough in the western United States that they could see the lingering oranges and pinks of a sun that had just disappeared beyond the horizon. It was late enough than any wandering tourists had long since gone home, and early enough that they had the whole night ahead of them to fuck around at the national monument. Oh, and fuck around they would.
Junkrat had his face pressed up against the window of the dropship door since the moment Roadhog had finally unhooked him from his seat, eagerly trying to scope out where he'd been taken. He was so excited that he'd hardly noticed when the door fell open, causing him to tumble gracelessly out onto the dusty rock below. He was back on his feet in an instant, looking around him with wide eyes and an even wider grin. This place vaguely reminded him of some of the places he'd wandered through in the Australian Outback – minus the radiation, of course.
"Fair Dinkum! Get a load of this, Hoggie! Looks kinda like that King's Canyon place ya took me to, don't it?" he called out, turning his excited grin back towards his bodyguard. Roadhog just stood at the edge of the dropship door, staring silently out at the huge canyon that stretched out endlessly before them, his expression impossible to read behind that gasmask of his. Still, Junkrat's grin faded slightly, and he hobbled over to give the larger man's vest a light tug.
"Ya alroight, mate..?" he asked in a low voice, trying to keep the slight note of concern between the two of them. The question seemed to jar Roadhog from his thoughts, and he gave a small grunt of acknowledgement in reply. He then turned and retreated back into the ship to help Reinhardt bring out the cases of beer they'd brought with them. Junkrat merely shrugged and went back to his excited surveying of the area.
McCree and Lúcio had been standing back for a moment, both rather curious of the two Junkers' reactions to the venue. After the whole scene had played out, Lúcio couldn't help but smile, nudging McCree lightly with his elbow.
"Hey, looks like you picked a good spot! This is gonna be great!" he complimented, to which the gunslinger merely hooked his thumbs under his belt and chewed at the end of his cigar.
"Yeah, I sure hope so. If this thing goes south, Jack'll prolly have my ass…"
Fortunately for McCree, is seemed Lúcio's assessment of the night to come was more or less correct. The next few hours grew louder and more raucous in proportion to the amount of alcohol the group consumed. By midnight, the canyon was filled with echoes of boisterous laughter, loud music and, of course, explosions. By the time the lot of them had blown through their fourth case of beer, any and all hesitation to interact with the Junkers had completely evaporated. Torbjörn, McCree, and Lúcio were having a bit of a contest to see who could catch sight of more of Roadhog's face whenever he pulled up his mask to have a drink. Alas, the most they could see was a pair of broad lips and a fringe of silver scruff lining a wide jawline, though Torbjörn would swear to this day that he once saw the edge of some tattoos peeking out on his lower cheeks. The others assumed he was just making it up to win.
Eventually, the Junker Enforcer had become sufficiently plastered enough to accept an arm-wrestling challenge from an equally drunk Reinhardt. A few of the empty crates were set up as a makeshift table for the competition, bets were taken, and the spectacle began. Unfortunately, before a victor could be named, Roadhog had to step away when his bodyguard senses started tingling. It turned out that McCree had been trying to teach Junkrat and Genji the exact technique for breaking a beer bottle in such a way that one could stab someone with it, but not have it shatter in his hand. Needless to say, Roadhog wasn't about to let that bit of information pass into his twitchy employer's hands.
The rest of the night consisted mostly of Junkrat launching grenades and throwing mines out over the open canyon while the others tried to detonate them mid-air with their projectile of choice. McCree was especially fond of this little game, since it let him show off his expert gunmanship. Even Genji joined in, aiming his shuriken to hit the explosives in quick succession. Torbjörn was pretty well into it as well, though the others had bitterly declared that using his turret was cheating. Junkrat didn't mind. In fact, he was quite interested in how the device worked, even tearing his eyes away from his beautiful impromptu fireworks to watch how it fired.
Junkrat was having the time of his life out there. There were explosions, there was booze, there were people to laugh at his stupid jokes, and he'd even managed to roll around in the dirt enough when no one was looking to regain his usual, comfortable layer of filth. He couldn't stop his mad giggling, bouncing around the group like a kangaroo on caffeine. Was this what it was like to hang out with friends? He could get used to this!
Unfortunately, it all had to come crashing down eventually. Junkrat had taken one hop too many that night, and when his peg-leg next hit the ground, he felt it cave in under him. The next thing he knew, he was lying face down against the rock he'd just been standing on, the knee joint of his prosthetic leg in shatters.
"Ah fuck…" he grumbled out against the stone. He rose up unsteadily by his arms, spitting out a good mouthful of sand before trying to look back and expect the damage with little more than an annoyed frown, as though this was something that happened quite often. Lúcio jumped to his feet, wobbling a little from the effects of the alcohol he'd consumed, and started to make his way over to the suddenly immobile Junker.
"Woah, man. You alright?" he asked, though Junkrat merely waved him off before he could bend over to help him.
"S'fine…" he grunted out, idly wiping away the trickle of blood from his nose before maneuvering himself into a sitting position. He then gathered the parts of his peg-leg, looking over a few of them to see what exactly had broken as though he planned to fix it right then and there. Roadhog could tell just by looking that a quick repair wasn't going to happen, letting out a gruff sigh as he picked himself up from where he was seated at the edge of the canyon.
That's when they heard it. A shot rang out through the canyon like a sharp clap of thunder before the Junker Enforcer could take another step in his employer's direction. If that all-too-familiar sound wasn't enough to sober the lot of them right up, the sight of Junkrat instantly collapsing forward onto the ground once more certainly did the trick. Luckily, fears of the worst having happened were quickly dispelled when the fallen Junker stammered out a single word.
"S-s-sniper!" Junkrat squeaked out, covering the back of his head and neck with his hands as he attempted to make himself as small a target as physically possible. Roadhog moved faster than any of them had thought him capable, scooping the smaller man up in his arms and putting his broad back towards the direction where the shot had originated before a second could be fired. The rest surrounded the two a moment later, weapons drawn and eyes scanning the rocky outcroppings for the glint of a scope lens, something they'd find almost impossible to see in the dead of night, unfortunately.
"Did'ja get hit?" McCree called out, his revolver still at his hip as he kept a lookout for anything that would reveal the enemy's location. Junkrat was too distracted to give a reply, instead reaching behind him to yank something out of the back of his neck. His hand came away holding what looked like a tranquilizer dart, though there remained traces of a glowing blue liquid in the clear capsule. His bushy brows knit together in utter confusion as he looked the thing over.
"The fuck is this thi—"
Suddenly, the Junker's eyes rolled back into his head before he could finish his sentence, and he fell completely limp in his bodyguard's arms. Roadhog's eyes widened behind the dark lenses of his mask as he stared down at his unconscious employer. A feeling he hadn't felt in decades welled up within him, one that made his blood run cold; terror.
"Jamie!"