Hey guys, PoeticPillock here! And oh boy, this is a long as fuck update!
I know I've said this or things like this before, but I may have to preface these newest chapters by saying: "Fuck me, what the hell did I just do?!"
I am most definitely going to mellow myself out and go back to writing more modestly-sized chapters after this for a while. Especially since school is coming up, again, and I don't want to keep juggling shit and eventually have it land in my mouth.
Sorry about the mini-rant and about the slight delay in getting this chapter out. Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy!
Responses…
Guest: "Courrier: The skill is dead mate." What do you mean?
The Outback, Australia
2076
The sun was only beginning to peek over the mountains and boundless horizons of the Australian wilderness. The orange dirt quickly starting to warm up from the heat, but the moisture that seeped into the ground overnight made the early morning air crisp and cool. A pleasant, temporary departure from the usually sweltering atmosphere in the daytime.
Enjoying this peaceful sunrise was a group of animals sleeping close to the dried-out remains of an old tree, its trunk and branches providing shade. These animals had fur coats as brown or red as the dirt they slept on, proportionally small heads with pointed snouts and rotating ears, stubby arms with claws at the ends, a pair of legs with impressively long feet that were like paddles, and an equally impressive tail that made up almost half its body length. Some of these strange looking creatures were about the size of a grown adult human, but some looked even larger. Most of them were still sleeping on the ground, but a few others were wide-awake and awkwardly moved around at a snail's pace. Moving as if they were crawling because of their odd construction. One of the animals that were awake was the biggest specimen in the group, with a coat in a brilliant shade of orange. This big buck meandered about, occasionally nibbling on some shrubs but mostly lounging around and looking out for the rest of his troop. Sporting some impressive muscles for a mammal, and stood to his full height to help him look all around. His large ears sometimes twitching in place, his face seemingly locked in a permanent glare. The brush looking clear for the group.
At least, until something thundered in the distance and the big buck collapsed to the ground as something hit him right on the side of his chest. The rest of the troop instantly rocketed to their long feet and ran away from the tree shelter. Well, more like hopping, as the marsupials jumped away from the dead buck. His coat becoming a tinge redder.
As they hopped away, the New Californian walked through the brush with his game rifle in his hands and watching the others move. Silently intrigued by how they could move so fast and far with just a bounce in their step. One of the weirder creatures he's seen out here, aside from Junkers.
Getting to his kill, Nathan crouched down and examined the corpse, noting how it seemed to be almost as tall as him. It got a clean, quick death. Didn't suffer long and clearly not convulsing on the ground. .45-70 will usually do that to any game its pointed at, which was good since the hunter didn't know where its heart specifically was. Could've been shooting its liver for all he knew.
Nonetheless, the Arroyo Tribal crouched down and took off his right glove, feeling the marsupial's fur. It was surprisingly soft, like a velvet suit against his skin. Only getting course as he got towards its muscly tail, but that didn't discourage him. He cared most about how this thing tasted.
Holstering his Brush Gun, he grabbed his kill and hoisted it over his left shoulder. It was a heavy animal to haul through the brush, but he's hiked up mountains with heavier backpacks of equipment. He didn't mind working for his food, and it was still chilly enough in the morning to make the trek bearable. The only thing on the Waster's mind was why the kangaroo didn't have any horns…
Fully daytime back at the homestead, Junkrat clambered out of his messy bed before hopping down to the barn floor. Stretching his arms high into the air and satisfyingly cracking his joints to relieve some stress. Today was a very big day, and he could barely contain his excitement when a beaming smile graced his dirty features. Starting it off with a very big stride, a peg leg forward.
After he sauntered past the couch, which still had the Truckie tied to it but sleeping rather peacefully upon the cushions, he made his way to the front door and stepped out onto the porch. With an orange sunrise before them, he then sees his other roommate outside and doing something. He was about to ask what until the smell and sound of something cooking on a pan hit him. Making him even more excited for the morning.
"Is that…?" Junkrat began, taking a big whiff of the morning air then feeling his mouth begin to water. "Freshly cooked roo, I smell?"
Roadhog didn't say anything as he handed him a tin plate with a freshly cooked piece of kangaroo chops and a fork, going back to the portable stove he had set up off the porch. Jamison wasted no time stabbing the fork into his meal, taking a bite of the juicy piece of marsupial meat. Moaning with delight as he chowed down.
"As always, your cooking is to die for, mate," Junkrat complimented as he took another hearty chunk from his kangaroo steak. "Definitely needed for the big day we have ahead of us. Surprise you had time to bag us some brekkie, though."
Roadhog glanced at him for a second and went back to cooking more breakfast. Junkrat frowned at him in response.
"Wait, who brought us the kangaroo, then?" the verbose Australian asked.
"I did."
He heard a knife slicing through flesh and looked to his left to see a big kangaroo hanging from the support beam being butchered by their guest. Cutting slabs of meat from them before dropping them onto a platter full of kangaroo chops. Wearing a leather apron over his shirt and jeans, shielding himself from spurts of blood. Plenty of blood over his bare hands, though.
"Woke up early to take a shit. Couldn't get back to sleep. So, I went out looking for something to eat," Nathan explained, pulling down more of the kangaroo's hide before getting to the other bits of meat. "Found this guy along the way and brought him back."
"You know how to butcher kangaroo?"
"No. Rutledge taught me."
"…Who?"
Nathan paused from what he was doing and turned to give the Junker an incredulous glare. Jamison frowned and looked to Roadhog but saw he was also staring with his mask. He maintained that gaze for a few more moments until he shook his head and went back to cooking.
"Your colleague?" Brin then said, rolling his eyes as he went back to butchering.
"Oh, roight," Fawkes recanted, but still somewhat unsure. "Anyways, we have a big day ahead of us gentlemen! Today is finally the day we get to usurp the Queen!"
"I know. You keep yelling it."
"Then it's utmost importance shouldn't be overstated! And as soon as she's out of the picture and can be buried in a bottle, we'll be more than happy to repay you, mate."
"I'm counting on it, but I still don't have a lot of faith in this plan."
"Ah, don't worry. Not sure how things usually are like back at Overwatch, but you can always count on professionals like us."
"Yeah…"
Nathan got the last piece of edible meat from the kangaroo and threw it onto the tray, going over to a bucket of water and washing the blood off. Then, stringing the apron on a nail in the support beam.
"Us versus an entire town of her cronies? Odds are clearly in our favor," he stated with a deadpan voice.
"That's the spirit!" Jamison exclaimed. "Now, I gotta wake up the Truckie. Hope he doesn't mind roo chops."
Without hesitation, Junkrat ran back inside with his springy legs thumping against the wood. Nathan stepped away from the butchered kangaroo and sat down on the porch, the wood creaking under his weight. Subsequently, a plate of steaming roo chops with a side of diced potatoes and spinach was handed to him, looking up to see Rutledge had finished cooking. Brin took the plate and tipped his head to show thanks, Roadhog returning a nod. The larger man stepped onto the porched, making it tremor. Nathan about to chow down on kangaroo for the first time but until he noticed something.
"You ain't gonna eat?" Nathan asked, turning around.
"I don't eat meat," Mako simply answered, looking over his shoulder, before stepping inside.
Nathan tilted his head for a moment but shrugged as he looked back to his meal. Frowning when he sees Jerry's snout licking at his sides. The man bumps his shoulder into the goat and knocks him away, and stabs a piece of meat with his fork. A bit cautiously, he quickly bites down and starts chewing on it. It was a bit lean, a bit gamey, but he was able to get through it easily before swallowing. It reminded him of Brahmin, surprisingly.
Suddenly, firecrackers started going off inside the house and Nathan rocketed to his feet to look at the front door. The noise went on for around half-a-minute, and he could hear high-pitched cackling amongst it. When it had finally ended, the cackling went on for another half-a-minute until Junkrat spoke again.
"Good morning, ya' sleepy bastard!"
Nathan only groaned and sat back down on his porch, going back to his brekkie.
On foot, the trek from Junkertown to the homestead in the middle of nowhere took about an hour-and-a-half for the Wastelander to get through at a brisk pace on-foot. In a truck, however, that time was easily more than halved as Nathan now sped along the same road he walked.
Not sightseeing out the window this time, Nathan was trying to get some shut-eye as he sat in the passenger's side seat of the truck. The ride much less rocky with the absence of actual wheels. He was like that for almost the entire drive, his left arm propped against the passenger door and resting his head on it. Drifting in and out of unconsciousness, but still able to hear the truck's engine and the passing highway wind. Then, he felt someone touched his shoulder.
Quickly, the Courier sat up and simultaneously reached to his holster, bringing the muzzle of his sidearm to the driver's seat.
"Fuck, calm down will ya', you cunt!" the Truckie exclaimed, tensing up and shielding himself as he kept driving.
Nathan stared at the truck driver for a while until he brought his handgun back into its holster.
"Sorry," he apologized, laying his back on the seat and closing his eyes, again. "What is it?"
"I was just going to say we have around 5-10 more minutes until we reach Junkertown proper," the Truckie explained, relaxing a tad without a gun barrel over him. "I radioed in earlier, so they should be expecting us at the front gate. If you need to do something, now's the best time to do it. We've got a lot of explaining to do."
"Have Rutledge and Fawkes called in, yet?"
"No, but I wouldn't be surprised if they were already there. Probably found some nook big enough for that fat bastard to squeeze through in that shithouse of a town."
"Sure."
The Waster got more comfortable into his seat, trying to get some more rest before having to face the wasteland music. Bringing the riches to the Queen's court.
Quite a lot of pressure and hoop-jumping just to retrieve a fusion core. Probably could've just lent Overwatch one if he had something of that scope and not just one for a dingy set of Power Armor he totaled. Alas, his backpack could only hold so much.
However, Brin opened his eyes as he recanted the words the Truckie just spoke and looked at him. Next, looking at his dashboard to see the radio set on it. A functioning radio set.
"Wait a minute," Brin said, casting his eyes to the Truckie. "If you have a functioning radio, why didn't you call into Junkertown when you were being ambushed?"
"…Uh…" the Truckie croaked out, shifting his eyes to the side for a glance before looking back to the road. "I was, uh, taking cover. Hiding."
"Yeah, I clearly saw that, but I didn't see any reinforcements or anyone tailing us back to the ranch. Why?"
The truck driver was just silent for those first few seconds, glancing worriedly to the passenger's side, mindful of where his right hand was reaching. Finally, after a hot air of silence, he cleared his throat.
"Gonna be honest with you, mate," the Truckie began, his voice not nearly as trembling now. "When you blew that fuckin' wanker's head off, the first thing on my mind was to get the hell out of there in all the confusion."
"That clearly didn't work. Why, though?"
"…I-I just wanted to get away from the rest of caravan, get as far away from anything associated with the Queen. Even if that includes Junkertown, itself. Just anything to get away from her or her fucking legion of brain-dead degenerates."
"…How long have you worked for her?"
"Oh, I've been her slave for God knows how long. Been to the Omnium and hauled so much scrap that my brain feels like a scrambled egg. Sometimes I feel like I'm fucked in the head, but there is always someone else more fucked than me."
Nathan stared at him, watching him keep his eyes on the road as he drove. Looking out the windshield with an almost neurotic gaze, his body sometimes twitching unexpectedly as if there was a sudden itch. Seeing the sweat build up on his dirty forehead before wiping it away. Nathan looked out the windshield and to the road, seeing that large monolithic rock in the distance getting closer.
"Maybe you'll get some payback, today," the Courier surmised, putting his helmet on. "Then you wouldn't have to leave, anymore."
"Nah, even if your plan works – which I solemnly believe it won't – I'm fuckin' off the first chance I get," the Truckie said. "Things might get better with her out of the picture, but I'm not staying here to find out."
The cabin became silent, again, after that exchange. The truck now getting off-road and making its way to the mesa itself. The metal, jagged structures on top almost beckoning them.
"I know it probably ain't my business, but what's your stake in all of this?" the Truckie asked.
"What?"
"What's in it for you? Working with Roadhog and Junkrat to take out the Queen. I overheard something about Overwatch back at the farm… Are they really back? Back to saving the world again?"
The Courier looked at him with his helmet, his expression hidden underneath that stagnant gaze.
"I'm just trying to get a fusion core, man," Brin sighed, looking back to the road.
The rest of the ride was quiet as the truck made its way to the top of the large mesa and eventually to the gates of the Junkertown. Much quicker than they would've liked. With a clear day, the Waster could look out of the windows to see not much has changed since his last visit to the city gates. Except there were now a dozen armed guards hanging over the gate's battlements and a dozen more on either side of their truck as they moved in front of the large doors. A couple of cars parked along the path too, with heavy guns on top their canopies. The passengers looked out of the windows to deduce they were surrounded
"We're fucked," the Truckie simply said, accepting his fate.
"Not yet," the Courier responded, seeing someone on the upper battlements move to the center in-between some of the guards, holding what appeared to be a jury-rigged megaphone on a stick and not a proper stand.
"Anyone who is inside the cabin, get out and state your reason for coming back behind schedule! You have thirty seconds!"
The Truckie unclasped his seat belt and was about to hop out through his door, but he felt the passenger put a hand on his shoulder.
"You stay here and keep your hands on the wheel," the Waster commanded, unlocking his door. "I'll deal with this."
The driver didn't say anything as the passenger opened his door and hopped out of the cabin, shutting it behind him. With dozens of eyes and nearly as many rifle sights on him, the Waster walked to the front of the truck and looked up at the warden with the megaphone. Nathan's holster of rifles nowhere to be seen on his person.
"Who are you and what's your business?" the megaphone Junker yelled at him.
"I'm a courier… and I'm a courier!" the Waster cheekily answered. "Specifically, I have come bearing gifts for your Queen!"
"Yeah? And what's an out-of-towner like yourself doing with one of our trucks?"
"I also came back to return one of your own men from an ambush that had occurred to the caravan he was with, last night. I rescued him from… Two individuals that your Queen would be very happy to know are no longer with us, today."
As he said that, some of the guns exchanged confused glances and murmurs with each other. The megaphone Junker even looked back at some of his men, before putting his face up against the speaker, again.
"Do you have proof?" he questioned.
"Yes, I do, in fact," the Courier said, reaching to the back of his belt to retrieve something. An array of gun barrels was lifted at him as soon as he did that. He paused, shifting his head all around him and just throwing up one hand in annoyance.
More slowly and cautiously, he brought his arm out and produced a burlap sack with wet stains at the bottom of it. Seeing that, the warden waved and one of the armed guards on the ground ran up to the tall out-of-towner. Snatching it from his hands and taking a peep inside. However, the Junker jumped from what he saw inside the bag, everyone notices. After a few moments, he ran up to the gate and throws the bag up to the warden, grabbing it and peers inside for himself. His eyes becoming wide as disks.
"That was going to be my other gift to the Queen," the Waster explained. "Would appreciate it if you don't the ruin the surprise."
"I see…" the megaphone warden could only say, looking at the out-of-towner in disbelief. "Alright, we'll let you in, but you're going straight to the Queen!"
"That's why I'm here."
The gatekeeper frowned before he began to bark orders to the Junkers around him. The man in black armor walked back to the truck with guns still being pointed at it. Clambering back inside, he shut the door and looked at the driver to see him with a more than nervous expression. However, the city gates began to open, and as they did Nathan reached into the back of his pocket to pull out his lighter. Flipping it open, he brings the tip to a white string sticking out of the cabin's glovebox and lights it, the string sparkling and fizzling up into the inside of the cabin.
"Fawkes said we have half-an-hours' worth of fuse, so we'll have to make it snappy," Brin stated, reclining into his chair. "The Queen's not far, is she?"
"No, boss' place is right up the street," the Truckie answered, nervously looking ahead and checking his mirrors as he drove inside. "What do we do after we deliver it the loot to her?"
"Well, Fawkes gave me a little note with instructions on it, but…"
Nathan pulled out said note from his pocket, looking down at the wrinkly piece of scratch paper and seeing three very simple lines of sentences scribbled on it. It read:
"Post-Delivery Instructions"
"Step 1: Run like Hell!"
"Step 2: Grab some loot with you if Step 1 permits it."
"It's a bit lacking," Nathan merely stated, crumpling up the note and throwing it to the floor. "And judging from all those bundles of dynamite we are currently sitting upon, it'd be a good idea to put some distance between us and Junkertown, regardless. Not like you needed any convincing."
However, before their trolley even got a foot inside the city, unseen radio speakers and intercoms blasted into the air, echoing into the air before the noise cleared up. Loud enough for nearly everyone to stop and look up into the sky. Nathan had some trouble trying to look through the windshield because of his height, but he still heard it.
"Wretched scum of Junkertown!" greeted the voice of a woman, clearly with authority and virulence. "It appears we have a visitor to our irradiated paddock, today. An out-of-towner, in fact! We don't get a lot of them, these days. So, please, as your Queen demands, remember to be courteous and respectful to our new guest. Make them feel right at home. And to you, our special guest… I'll be waiting to make your acquaintance. Don't keep me waiting! This is your Queen, speaking!"
The intercoms then fizzled to silence, and things were quiet for the moment until the truck got moving again. However, the Waster sat in his seat and remembered where he's heard that voice from before. Recognizing the voice from the radio announcer the day before. The one he switched off after she spouted a bunch of hoopla. He's surprised he didn't make the connection sooner since it was always tyrants that liked to talk.
"Well, shit…"
They drove along the road regardless, armed guards flanking either side of their truck and armored cars behind and in front. Crawling along at a snail's pace, Nathan could see people begin to gather around the streets, watching their truck go like a parade. They got further inside the city, with more people coming out to see the "out-of-towner". Nathan just kept his eyes on the road ahead, watching where the escorts were leading them. But as his eyes drifted and looked to the sides, he unexpectedly glanced upon two blokes dressed up as farmers.
One was slim and lean with overalls that went up to his chest, missing an arm and using a crutch to stand. The other was fatter and taller, also with overalls that couldn't cover up most of his gut and wore a straw hat. The bigger one holding onto a leash that was tied to a goat, but whose coat had black and brown polka-dots all over it, clearly painted on. When he stared at the two "bystanders", both wearing burlap sacks masks, they waved at him. Nathan just returned the gesture, staring at them until they were out of sight.
After a few more minutes of the impromptu parade, they were eventually brought to a large, dome structure that was in the middle of the town. Hanging overhead was an orange banner that showed a white spiked bat and a serrated machete forming an x beneath a diamond figure. At the base of the sphere was another large blast door that receded into the ground to reveal a tunnel leading inside the sphere dome. However, the cars and guards stopped escorting the truck altogether and they went inside by themselves.
The interior was full of rusted and corrugated metal walls. Trash and filth littering the floor they glided upon. The path they were taking curved around this pylon in the middle of the room that had a large turbine spinning slowly through the air, surrounded by cranes and heavy equipment that were currently motionless. Judging by the rooms and the turbine, coupled with this building being some large dome, he would've guessed this was some type of power plant before it got occupied by less than productive denizens. Finally, after making a short turn around the turbine, they could see an end to their road and someone waiting at it.
Their destination was in a large room surrounded by stadium lights and overhead lights, some of them shining upon some large cog-like structure that was built into the ground, almost looking like a vault door. At the end was an alcove that looked like it was converted into a stage as large speaker systems flanked it on either side and in the center, was a fancy leather chair with faded gold outlines. It was lopsided as it was missing a leg and used a cinderblock as a substitute prop.
The owner didn't seem to mind, a fair-skinned woman with red-orange hair molded into a mohawk at the top but with a braided ponytail reaching down to her shoulder. She wore a leather vest that didn't properly fit and button at her stomach and had metal pauldrons over her shoulders – one with spikes and the other with large, feathery white tufts. She sported a pair of jeans that were worn and roughed up with multiple tears exposing her legs and a pair of black boots. Lady wasn't shy with showing off skin, as much of her midriff was exposed beneath the button of her vest, and her shirt – which had a crowned skull over a cross – looked like it was almost going to rip from the size of her rack with much of her cleavage showing. That didn't seem practical in the slightest, but her tits were the least of the Waster's concern. Finally – around her face – she had blue war paint on the skin around her eyes, a scar across her right cheek, and a ring piercing at her bottom lip.
She was pretty, but Nathan was very aware that didn't make her a damsel.
When it seemed like they drove for ages, the truck finally stopped and hovered over the vault in the floor. The cabin occupants facing the woman who lazily sat on her throne, with one elbow propped against an armchair and resting her head against it. She had an entourage of guards around her, from beefy men with little to no strips of clothing to armed personnel in trashcan armor. However, there were other people occupying the throne room and surrounding the truck, most of them looking like normal civilians who wandered in from the street. Could've been hired help, like the poor sap driving. He also noticed random pieces of weaponry scattered around the tunnel, lodged into places as if there had been fights here. Hopefully, they weren't that recent.
Things were quiet for a while after the truck had stopped, the Courier and the Truckie exchanging glances. The latter visibly more nervous. Then, the ringing intercoms went off again and they both looked to the front to see the woman grabbing the base of a microphone from a yellow-barrel stand next to her. Nathan thought the microphone looked familiar, seeing something like it in Vegas.
"Alright, you sorry bastards," she spoke, addressing them directly but letting everyone else hear. "Come out from there and let me see who decided to knock on my door. The Queen's door."
With her eyes still fixed on the truck, she gently placed the metal microphone back on its stand and waited. With a bored but oddly patient expression upon her features. Quickly exchanging glances, the two occupants opened their doors and climbed out of the truck. The Waster in black armor was the first to get his boots on the ground, shutting the door, and walking to the front of the truck.
"Oooooh, look at you!" the Queen stated, casting her eyes upon the tall man. "He's a big one, isn't he? What do you bruisers reckon? 190? 200 centimeters?"
"I've seen bigger, my Queen," one of her men said, staring down the armored man.
"Sure. Taking it up your ass," Nathan unexpectedly quipped, disrupting the tension that had been building up in the throne room and making nearly everyone burst into laughter. As if a bunch of drunken jungle birds were set loose inside the enclosed space and were immediately singing songs. Even the Queen, who had maintained a largely unassuming visage throughout the exchange, most likely to intimidate her guests, was having a hoot and a holler as she threw her head back. The guard targeted just stood there, embarrassed and shifting his eyes all over the room. Nathan just continued to stare at him under his mask, not nearly as amused at his own joke.
"And I thought yanks couldn't make jokes!" the Queen said, letting out the last of her giggles as she looked back at the man before her. "Already beginning to like you."
Then, the Truckie comes up from behind and stand next to Nathan, before kneeling to the Queen and having his head bowed to the ground.
"My Queen, I just wanted to start off by apologizing for arriving so late and-"
"Pull your head in, mate!" his Queen yelled at him, losing that grin with a scowl. "You're lucky I'm even letting you be here and not just throwing you out into the sticks for your incompetence. Or worse. Let our guest speak, and maybe he'd give a better answer than your unreliable arse can!"
Nathan looked down to see the Truckie still kneeling and keeping his eyes on the ground, trying not to make eye contact with anyone. He then heard murmuring from behind and looked back to see some of the crowd of civilians gathered around, but among them, peaking out a window to some room within the wall, were the two exiles in farmer's clothing. The slim one waving and tapping his wrist with his right stub. Nathan looked back at the truck itself and remembering what he had to do.
"Well?" the Queen said, bringing his attention back to the front. "What brings you here, outsider?"
The Waster took one more glance at the truck, before facing the Junker Queen and clearing his throat. Thinking back to the nights he's spent at bars, chatting with pretty women with a certain goal in his mind. Never thought he'd use it like this…
"Well, you see your 'Majesty', if I may call you that?" the Courier started off, almost in disbelief at what he just said.
"You may…" the Queen responded, the corners of her lips tugging a bit.
"I've visited your… fine city not too long ago and may have been a bit of a troublemaker, despite being explicitly warned not to. While I am deeply sorry for any inconveniences that may have caused, there was a reason I was skulking around here, asking questions. And I'm afraid some of those questions offended some of your men that day. I don't hold any regrets about what I did to defend myself. Your men were too drunk to be reasonable."
"Hmm, why am I not surprised…? Jackson! Get out here, now!"
Beckoned to her like a dog, a shirtless Junker with bandages around his hand appeared from the crowd and walked before the stage, standing next to Nathan. Instantly recognizing him as the one he skewered to the bar a day ago.
"I thought I told you-!" the Courier began growling at him, making the Junker shrink away.
"Now, now, there's no need for violence… Yet," the Queen said with a smirk. "I just want a little explanation; Jackson, what did our guest do that made you pull a knife on him?"
The Junker nervously glanced at her, then at the Courier, seeing he hasn't stopped glaring at him.
"Well, my Queen, he was, uh, asking around," he explained. "Looking for someone."
"Who?" his Queen asked.
"Junkrat and Roadhog! That's who!"
The crowd and some of the guards murmured among each other from hearing those not-so-welcomed names, while Nathan just cast a silent glance back at the two "farmers". Taking a quick glance at the clock on his Pip-Boy, after.
"Do you know why?" the head Junker demanded.
"Well… Uh… No, I-"
"I was asking around for them because I was hunting them," the Courier cut off and explained, staring down the Junker before regarding the Queen. "I was after the bounty that was on both of their heads. He'd assumed it wasn't going to be that, and he may have been right… If I haven't brought evidence to the contrary with me in a burlap sack… Where is that by the way? I gave it to one of your men."
With a wave of her hand, one of the Junkers from the alcove ran up to Nathan and handed him the burlap sack. Everyone could see that it was wet with dark stains, and the ones who were closest could tell that it also didn't smell that great. The Queen still sat lazily in her chair, curling a curious eyebrow to what may be inside. Nathan peered into the bag to make sure, then reached in and brought the two items high into the air for everyone to see. In the palm of his hand, everyone saw Junkrat's orange robotic arm and Roadhog's stitched-up gasmask, covered in blood and flesh. A lot of people gasped, a lot of people started to murmur, and the Queen sat up in her seat with interest in her eyes.
"They were in the middle of assaulting one of your caravans when I finally tracked 'em down. Where I also rescued this 'truckie' from. So, your Majesty, they won't be bothering you or anyone, anymore," the Courier announced, tossing the two Junker's belongings onto the floor towards the Queen.
"Oi, that wasn't a part of the script!" Junkrat said in hushed tones. "He best be mindful of that. I've only got one!"
"Well, this certainly is quite the gift…" the Queen let out, looking at the two pieces of proof before drifting her eyes up at the tall man. "And I'm certainly happy to be rid of them, finally! But, I was told that wasn't the only gift for me?"
"And you would be right in your assumption, 'Countess of the Wastes'!" the Waster responded, almost wanting to punch himself in the dick after he said that. "After I bagged the two degenerates, your Truckie and I took the surviving truck and made a trip to their homestead. I wanted to be thorough with my kill, see if there may have been something I missed. What we found there is… Well, I'll let my generosity speak for itself."
The Queen tilted her head, a sly smile beginning to grow on her face but still somewhat wary of the out-of-towner. After he said that, Nathan turned to the Truckie and tipped his helmet up, exposing his mouth.
"Turn the truck around, so I can show the loot. When everyone's distracted, get out and leave before shit starts blowing up. Got one chance, be quick!" he whispered rapidly, before setting his helmet down again and patting him on the shoulder.
The Truckie just looked up at him in disbelief.
"What are you waiting for? Don't keep the lovely lady waiting. Move it!"
The Truckie did as he was told, dashing off to the right side of the truck and hopping in with newfound haste. Eventually, the floating truck began to spin around slowly until its rear end was facing the throne. Nathan walked up to the lever that controlled the rear door of the truck and wrapped his hand around it. Everyone present in the "court" looked on with curiosity, but some of the guards were a bit wary and kept their hands close to their weapons. The Queen intently stared at the man's every move, impatient to find out what else she was going to receive. However, Nathan deliberated until he saw the driver's side door open and pulled hard on the lever.
When the machine opened, the large metal gate lifted into the air, a sea of gold coins and bags of money rushed out of the truck. Quickly flooding onto the floor, people from the crowds almost scrambling to the pile of riches before the guards stopped them. Even a large metal safe flew out from the truck and landed onto the floor with a thud, the door popping open with multiple gold bars popping out. Nathan had to shield himself with his arm from some of the falling loot until it had died down after a few seconds. However, his eyes widened for a moment when he noticed a strip of the fuse sticking out from the pile of gold, still fizzling. Quickly stepping in front of it.
"Ta-da!" he exclaimed, stretching his arms out like a Deathclaw about to bag lunch. Just glad he was finally done. 'You fucking bitch!'
Now, the Queen was awestruck, her eyes as wide as the Outback and glowing like the gold she was staring at. After a few moments of gawking at the riches, she shook her head and regained her composure. She stood up from her throne, making everyone in the court quiet to look at her, and grabbed something to her side. One of the long staff-like weapons. Nathan wondered what she was going to do until the woman arched back and launched the staff towards him, surprising him for a split-second before he rolled to the side. The air shifted where he felt the spear almost hit him, and he looked to the left to see that weapon instead speared the Junker whose hand he split in half, the blade sticking out of his back. The poor subject gurgled and coughed as he slowly looked at the man in black armor, before collapsing onto the floor. Unfortunately, the blood that spewed from him splashed onto the fuse and snuffed out the spark. The rest of the thread now inert.
'Oh, you've got to be fucking kidding me!' he wanted to scream out, release all the anguish and frustration that's been building up to this moment, without a cathartic release to keep him sated in sight.
"Oh, piss…" Junkrat said, witnessing what just happened. "Didn't expect that."
However, after staring at the blood-drenched fuse, he snapped his head to the Queen and sees her with a proud, predatory grin.
"That's what he gets for interfering with my champion!" the Queen of Junkertown pridefully boasted, not needing a microphone for it to echo across her court.
"Uh, your what?!" Brin asked, hearing something he absolutely did not want to hear.
"My champion, champion!" the Queen reiterated, sauntering up to the out-of-towner, and planting both of her hands onto his shoulders. Realizing up close she was quite tall, only a couple inches shorter than him, and displayed a set of well-built arms. Feeling her firm grip through his coat. "Not only did you get rid of those two insufferable irrits, but you also hauled me the score of a lifetime! No one else under my ranks has ever done such a task for me, and I'd never expect it to be from an out-of-towner, nonetheless a yank. Not that that has anything to do with it, but I do adore your accent!"
"Oh, how flattering…"
"What? Is something wrong…?"
"Oh, no! It's just… I was going to drop off all this loot so there wasn't any bad blood between us because I was going to leave after. Didn't want any of your men tailing me as soon as I went outside."
"Well, you've certainly made up for all your past 'crimes' against Junkertown, but this is above and beyond the call! Mate, this calls for a proper, Aussie celebration in your name!"
"Oh, you don't have to do that-!"
Suddenly, Nathan was hoisted over the shoulders of two big blokes as he was carried amongst a crowd of cheering Junkers. The man in black armor looked around, silently panicking, and trying to find another way out of this. However, the Queen went to her throne and bent down to her microphone, making the intercoms clang once more.
"My fellow Junkers, in honor of our most recent guest, we will be having a celebration at the Scrapyard! Bring your nan, bring your kids, for this will be a party you will not want to miss! All on behalf of your righteous queen and ruler, me!"
After her announcement, the crowd began to move, the Waster, unfortunately, being dragged along with the Queen of Junkertown not too far behind. Affixing a very noticeable crown atop her head from the pile of loot. The truck and the rest of the loot were also being taken away by some of the Queen's henchmen, soon getting out of the way and bringing it to storage. As the boisterous crowd made it ways to the celebration and the inactive boom-truck was driven out of the court, those left were two men in overalls and one goat with dripping spots. They just stood there, watching their entire plan go off the rails.
"Oi… What just happened?!"
The Queen's court was cleared, but it wasn't long for the sidelines and "bleachers" to get filled to the brim with crowds. Junkertown's citizens, of all shapes, sizes, and levels of hygiene, attending with little protective barriers. Despite that, they roared and cheered as they were right up against the show they came to see, for what passed as entertainment in this rusted shell of a town – gladiatorial combat. However, the match they were witnessing today was not really something the ancient Romans would have the pleasure of experiencing. Where the crowd clapped and hollered as they watched two large, bipedal walking machines duke it out in the middle of the arena.
One machine had a buzzsaw on one arm and three sharp, pointy claws on the other, while his opponent was equipped with nozzles on either arm that spewed fire from a tank on its back. The crowd went wild every time one machine landed a blow on their opponent, or when a pilot narrowly dodges a fatal strike. Spurts of fire or blade fragments nearly hitting the audience watching but only adding more excitement to the show. An announcer's voice over the intercom telegraphing everything that happened in this wild, wild match.
The best seats in the house obviously belonged to the Queen, as she and her guest occupied the "VIP" booth that was situated high above the Scrapyard. Nathan could see everything from where they were as he leaned against the railing that separated him from the glass. He was no stranger to fighting arenas and has even betted or participated in matches, but he's never really watched two large mechs blowing shards of metal off each other. His interest in this novelty was a bit feigned, sadly, since he was supposed to leave this place thirty minutes ago and watch it blow up five minutes later. He doesn't even know where Fawkes and Rutledge are, having not heard from them since.
Laughter and loud music made him look back to a corner of the VIP room, seeing some of the Queen's posse lounging around on furniture with beers and a jukebox. It sounded like it was blaring rock, but moodier, with more distorted electric guitars and the singers sounding like whiny punks. At least it wasn't completely electronic noise.
His escape planning was interrupted as a fiery-red mohawk came into view and the Queen of Junkertown took a spot next to him, leaning against the railing to look down at the fight, too. Her presence more than unwelcome.
"I hope my champion is enjoying the show…?" the Queen asked, casting a smirk to the side.
"Very much so, your Majesty," Brin lied as he kissed her ass. "You Junkers sure have some interesting forms of entertainment…"
"And I wouldn't trade it for anything else in the world!" she the proudly boasted. "You really had good timing, coming to my court, today. This match has been planned weeks in advance. Can't think of a better way to celebrate becoming richer!"
The Head Junker grinned as she looked back down at the mech fight happening below them, the fighters both looking worse than when they started but still chugging on. The Courier stared at her, his face still hidden under his Ranger helm until he slowly looked back at the fight in his honor. Watching more sparks and flame fly across the rusted corridor, the crowd loving all of it.
"Actually, I can think of a better way to celebrate a day like this. Something more substantial than watching some old boomers fight to help take the edge off," the Queen then says, keeping her eyes fixed on the arena.
The man wrinkled his forehead, rotating his helmeted head to look at the Queen, but her eyes are still affixed on the mech brawl. He looked back at the fighting, as well, but his thoughts occupied with something else besides the sport. Not entertaining the thought of responding to her.
"Oi, Courier!" Brin suddenly heard Junkrat loudly whisper into the radio of his ear, almost making him jerk his head. "Roadie and I are trying to find the boom trolley, so we can reignite the fuse and blow this place to hell. Might take a while, but until then, make sure the Queen doesn't leave her castle. Just get ready to move it when we call back unless you want to go down with the 'countess'. Haha! Junkrat, out!"
His helmet went quiet, and he shifted his eyes back to the Queen who still looked over the Scrapyard, leaning next to him on the rail. Unaware of the little voice that was speaking in his head. For a second, he thought about just pulling out his P320 and shooting her right there, making their job much less complicated. He would, consequently, lose the element of surprise and be forced to fight between floors of her cronies. Then, deal with the entire town as he tried to make a speedy getaway. If he had his rifles and some of his grenades that could've been possible, but with just a pistol and knife…
"Tell me, champion, when you killed the Rat and the Hog, how did you do it?" the Queen unexpectedly asked, turning to look at the helmeted.
"Shot 'em, how else?" Brin quickly answered, not taking his eyes off the fight. "Maybe an odd grenade or two."
"Really? That's it? You didn't make them suffer? Didn't shove a knife into their guts or prolong their wasteful lives to make sure they could still feel something? That's a bit disappointing to hear."
Nathan's head didn't move but his eyes shifted to the side, casting another gaze at the Junker next to him.
"I like to be efficient, ma'am," he responded, sounding unfazed. "Get things done quick. Toying with prey ain't a good business practice to have. Mostly."
"Surely, there could've been something else for you gain you besides the money?" the Queen asked, turning her head to look at him. "Something else about this job that drives you to do the things you do. Couldn't that be a possibility?"
"…I suppose."
Their fucked conversation went silent after that moment, Nathan thankful that it ended even if it was just temporary. Instantly going back to devising an escape plan from this dumpster castle after he's done mooching off with this discount ruler. The Junker Queen none the wiser as she boringly went back to watching the match.
Brin's thoughts are interrupted as he notices the noise inside the VIP room shift and looks over his shoulder to see the Queen's entourage making their way to the door. Everyone, even the bouncers, leaving for some reason. Leaving the Courier, the Queen, and the jukebox all alone in the viewing room. He looked at the Junker Queen, seeing she paid no mind to what just happened, resting her head on her hand as she absentmindedly stared at the arena.
"Where are they going?" he innocuously asked.
"Giving us some room," the Queen answered, turning her head to look at him.
"There's plenty of space here…"
"Let me rephrase what I said: They're giving us some privacy."
Nathan just pivoted his helmeted head to look at her, unamused on both his faces.
"Why?" the Courier questioned.
"Stay here for a little longer, my champion, and you might find out," the Queen said, standing up from the railing and slowly walking over to the tall man. Her left-hand brushing against the railing with every step. Stopping right up against his side and placing her hands delicately upon his shoulder. Dragging her fingers across the cloth.
The Ranger helmet always hid his expression well, but it was a good thing she didn't notice his right hand balled into a very tight fist. Reminding himself he had to stall the Queen for a while, to make sure Junkrat's bomb would get her, but this may have been not what he had in mind. Sure as hell wasn't what "her champion" had in mind, either.
"Do you ever take that mask off, mate?" the woman coyly asked.
"No," the Courier merely answered, narrowing his unseen eyes.
"Really? Someone as hardworking and productive as you could certainly use a breather, every now-and-then, no? It wouldn't kill you to get more comfortable, would it? You're probably burning up under there. Got plenty of drinks to amend that."
Suddenly, a wrestling bell rung and the fighting in the Scrapyard had stopped. Both mech pilot fighters still standing, albeit, covered in oil and bruises. The one with flamethrowers covered in scratches and missing chunks of armor, the other covered in ash and soot.
"Aaaand it looks like a draw, ladies and gentlemen, with both contestants still standing!" the announcer for the fight declared over the loud cheering. "But, as you all know, we can't be having any of that in the Scrapyard. No draws, only winners and losers! You know what this means?"
"Two-Up! Two-Up! Two-Up!" the crowd began to cheer, echoing throughout the rusted dome and Nathan feeling the vibrations from where he was. Seeing many of the crowds' faces looking up at their VIP room. The two mechs pilots doing so, as well.
Wondering what "two-up" was supposed to be, the Waster heard the Queen laugh and turned to her. Reaching to her backside, she pulled out a shiny knife and held the blade in the air, then reaching into her pockets and pulling out two of the same coin. She kept grinning as she placed both the coins on a flat-side of the blade, holding them there.
"Perks of being the Queen," she states, flicking her wrist, and tossing the coins up into the air.
They twirled midair and clattered against the glass of the viewing box, settling a bit after a few more bounces. Looking down, they see the coins had landed to reveal tails on both. Nathan wondered what that was supposed to mean, while the Queen grinned as she walked to a microphone in the middle of the railing and spoke into it.
"Tails!"
The crowd went wild after she said that, and the two mech pilots began moving away from each other. Nathan was just confused the entire time until he saw more movement happen in the middle of the Scrapyard, where the street curved around the turbine. Almost gasping aloud as he saw a large group of Omnics being led out of a doorway while escorted by armed guards. They all had chains around their arms and legs, looked emaciated even for machines, with dents, scratches, and rust among their metal hulls, and twitched their round metallic heads around as if lost. One Omnic didn't even have a right arm.
"Looks like we've got a scrap-off, then!" the announcer declared, sounding equally excited. "A fan-favorite; Whoever scraps the most bots in the least amount of time wins! Are the contestants ready?"
Both the mechs took aggressive stances, propping their arms and weapons up to get ready. The crowd becoming louder as they were going to be audience to another gladiatorial spectacle. The Omnics only cowering in fear as they were let off their chains and forced to become targets.
Nathan Brin could only stand there and watch as the two mechs charged towards the group of Omnics, who didn't have any time to run or defend themselves before they were then torn to pieces. With every smash, rip, and tear the larger machines did, he watched as the Omnics were hopelessly dismembered and outright murdered before the crowd of cheering Junkers. Watching as some try to scramble away but end up being snatched in large mechanical claws or crushed under large feet. Even the flamethrower mech could hurt, dousing them with petrol first before setting their hulls aflame. Their movements becoming much slower and sluggish as their bodies burn, just not flailing around in pain and terror like humans would.
They could scream like humans, though. The out-of-towner never expecting to hear such sounds from machines.
He continued watching the remaining Omnics get slaughtered in seconds, body parts and fluid flying everywhere. The crowd of Junkers just eating it up.
"Hope you don't mind the gratuitous violence," the Queen said as she sauntered up to him, looking down at the show. "It's what passes for entertainment around here, but you probably knew that if you were mad enough to come here."
He didn't say anything. He didn't want to say anything. The Courier only just balled his fists up and silently snarled underneath his mask. Trying so hard to restrain himself and keep to the mission. Wait for Fawkes to come back on the comms and tell him it was time to leave before this place got demolished.
"Of course, there are other forms of entertainment around here," the Queen of Junkertown stated, delicately putting her hand on Nathan's ass.
The Queen barely had time to react when the man in black armor spun around and punched her in the face. Strong enough to knock her off her feet and to the ground. She winced for a second on the ground, feeling warm blood dripping from her mouth. Spitting out a tooth before looking back at her guest of honor with newfound fury in her eyes.
"I'm leaving," the guest of honor stated, towering over her as lay on the floor. "You can have the gold, the money, and whatever the fuck this 'town' is supposed to be, but I ain't fucking you! I only brought the loot here to clear any bad blood and that's it! Eat someone else's dick, your Majesty, and have a good day!"
He was about to stomp off to leave the Queen to wallow in her blood and ill-gained riches but was bubbling with too much anger to notice her foot swiping him from below. Falling to his back on the floor, he then felt her get on top of him and straddle his waist, producing a knife and holding it against his throat.
"You like being rough, aye?" the Queen questioned, somehow grinning madly as she hovered over his face, her lips stained with blood. "I can be rough, too. I know you'd enjoy it. You'd love it! Don't think I can't properly reward you for what you've done for me."
"We just met, you crazy bitch!" the Courier yelled, grabbing her knife hand and punching her in the face.
Getting her off him and rolling to the floor next to him, the guest of honor then stood up, grabbed her by the collar and belt. He heaved and threw her against the thick glass window, making her bounce off and fall to the floor. The glass was still intact, but the Courier hopped over the railing and pulled out his sidearm to end her prematurely. Showing little regard for Junkrat's plan now. However, the Queen swiftly threw out another knife and struck him in the hand, knocking his gun away and catching him off-guard. It clattered to the floor, and he bent down to pick it up when the glass beneath and next to him shattered as a mech's clawed hand burst through and grabbed him. Pulling him out to the Scrapyard.
"Oh, what's this?" the announcer said, sounding surprised. "It looks like we have a third contestant in the match; the Queen's very own 'guest of honor'! He's got no mech, though, so his stint might be a tad short-lived."
The claws wrapped around his torso, nearly crushing him, feeling the air getting squeezed out. He immediately struggled and tried to pry the claws off with his arms, stopped and looked up when he heard that loud buzzsaw hand wind up. The blade hovering mere feet to him. Still holding onto to his sidearm, he quickly pointed the muzzle at the cockpit and fired at him. The mech pilot lost his grin and quickly retracted the buzzsaw to shield himself from the rounds. With that opportunity, Nathan wriggled in the claws and could prop both his leg against the one claw around his torso. Taking a few deep breaths, he pushed his legs forward and felt his thighs and abdomen burn for a few split seconds until the claw snapped back. Subsequently, falling to the floor.
"But he's broken free!" the announcer telegraphed, sounding as surprised as the crowd. "Remarkable, a precedent being set in this match! A lone fighter taking on two mechs!"
Quickly regaining semblance, he twirled around and aimed the muzzle of his pistol up to the viewing box. Spotting his target and firing up shots at her, only to have the rounds stopped against the glass and leave white specks with no penetration. The Queen perked an eyebrow and stared down at him, before clicking her microphone on.
"Kelvin? Bludger? Bring him to me alive. Everyone else? Enjoy the show."
About to orient himself to try a clearer shot, he narrowly avoided the slam of a fist the size of a small boulder. It belonged to the other mech, whose pilot wasted no town jutting out his other arm and spitting flame out of the nozzle.
"Kelvin, I said alive! Not crispy!"
The entire room was seemingly engulfed in flame, the audience unsure what happened beneath the blaze. After a few more seconds of burning everything right in front of him, the pilot retracted his flamethrower and stopped firing. The smoke and flame clearing in front of him to show the scorched metal floor… And the trail of smoke simmering from the coat of a man running down the road before jumping into a pit.
Taking cover in the pit, Nathan scrambled to get his duster off. Throwing it against the ground, the walls, and stomping on it to put the fire out. It did eventually die, but his coat was now more ruined than earlier. Pieces of the flaps completely singed off and patches in the cloth along the back, shoulders, and arm. Dark brown coloring turned into a charred black. He didn't have time to mourn as he suddenly heard an electrical spark, looking up to see a single, metallic arm stretching out from a pile of scrap metal. Consisting of nothing but dismembered Omnic parts.
"Help…" a sparking Omnic head said to him, its arms still twitching and reaching out to the air.
The Waster sat there and looked at the dismembered machine, looking around the pit to see other piles of dismembered Omnics. Thrown in here like a mass grave, like pieces of unwanted garbage. Unable to take his eyes off any of it. Having seen similar sights, before.
"Courier, it's Junkrat!" he heard on his radio, the voice more bubbly and exuberant than he was. "Great news, Roadie and I were able to light the fuse and even grabbed some of the gold with us! Bad news, there wasn't a whole lot of time left on the fuse when we lit it. So, you may want to make a speedy getaway right about now, if possible. See you 'till then!"
When his transmission cut off, he could hear the stomping footfalls shake the ground harder with each step. Hearing the piloted machines coming from both sides of the pit.
Brin put his burned coat back on and took cover by the stairwell he ran down. He took out his sidearm and checked ammo, seeing he had enough to make do. At least, against these golems.
"Kelvin 506 is approaching from the left, Bludger approaching from the right. Surrounding our third contestant on both sides. Cornering him!"
'From the left, huh?'
Nathan pressed his back against the wall, listening to the footsteps get closer. Holding his sidearm firmly against his chest as he waited. Attentive to what he saw and heard. On both sides of the pit, he heard the footfalls from both mechs stop and everything becoming relatively quieter. The slight thrumming of motors closer than the cheering crowds.
Nathan snapped his head to the right as a spinning buzz-saw went down into the pit and jutted towards him, narrowly evading the saw as it cuts into the wall. He jumps up the steps to see Kelvin 506 already priming his flamethrower and spitting a jet of fire a second later. His entire world becoming a bright orange as he pressed on and kept running forward. Kelvin fired his flamethrower but stopping a bit earlier to look down to see the man had apparently disappeared in the blaze again. He scowled with his one eye, looking around and stomping his big feet to see where he had gone.
"Oh, fuck! Mate, he's on your back!" Bludger called out to him, trying to get over to the other side.
Kelvin 506 looked at the fellow pilot for a moment before the tall black armor climbed over his shoulders and stopped right on his cockpit, mere feet from each other. The pilot could only scream and throw up his hands as the Courier brought his pistol up and unloaded half a magazine into him. The crowd's cheering morphing into shock as the gunshots went off. Even the Queen was surprised, running to the railing, and grabbing it as she watches his cockpit get painted red before his mech fell on its back. Nathan rolled to the ground, relatively unscathed, then running away as he brought his knife out and sliced the flamethrower's hose.
"You bastard! Come back here!" Bludger screamed, finally getting to the other side and about to give chase.
Unfortunately for him, he stopped as he heard rushing liquid beneath him and the smell of petrol hitting his nose. Glancing down to see the fuel spilling out of his opponents defunct mech. Then, a split-second later, a gunshot going off and sparking against the fuel. Bludger barely having time to brace himself as he was enveloped in a wall of fire, followed by an explosion from the tank on Kelvin's corpse.
The crowd further lost its bloodlust and gave another collective gasp of shock as they watched the explosion, those close to it taking cover while Bludger's battle mech collapses to the floor and becomes unresponsive. The Queen's features were graced with another look of surprise. Not expecting the out-of-towner to kill two seasoned Scrapyard gladiators – in mechs. Her stadium erupted with booing on all sides, directed towards the tall man in black armor standing in front of the two slain mechs.
The Courier obviously heard it, turning around to see all the angry and disgusted Junkers yelling at him and displaying rude gestures from the stands. Some of the guards coming out and pointing their weapons at him. More than unfazed by their jeers.
"Oh, fuck off…" he muttered.
"You have nowhere to run!" the Queen shouted over the intercom. "Someone seize that man, now-!"
A second, larger and more powerful explosion interrupted her. The crowds and the Queen watching as the stage where her throne was burst forth with fire and debris spewing out.
Nathan almost fell to his feet, caught by surprise by the explosion, too. Not that he didn't expect it to happen, but because that tremor he felt was much more powerful than what he even saw on the payload. Now questioning if those bundles of dynamite Junkrat had rigged were actual dynamite.
A series of explosions brought him back to reality, each blast somehow stronger and louder with each subsequent detonation. Now, people began to panic and rush for the exits. The "guest of honor" looking over the dead mechs to see the entrance he came through and quickly hauling ass towards that direction.
Next, Brin could feel and hear the explosions, the ground quaking beneath his feet and the sounds of the shantytown's castle blowing up from the inside. Even with the overload of his senses, he made a dash through the doorway and out onto the street, not looking back as the heat from the explosion crept up his spine. Resident Junkers all around him panicking and running away as well.
After dashing across the entire town faster than the truck did, it wasn't long until he went through the front gate and kept running well out onto the dirt. Brin finally stopped and turned around to look at the destruction caused by Junkrat's boom-trolley. The dome structure in the middle of town billowing smoke from holes in its shell that weren't there prior to detonation. Parts of its metal structure caving in on itself. A few more tremors went off, aftershocks from the initial explosion.
Nathan, panting heavily, took off his helmet to take in the fresh air for himself and feel his sweaty forehead get cold. He groaned and took a seat on the ground, resting an arm on his knee. Gulping in more air as he stared at the dirt. Not even bothered by the further aftershocks and the running or screaming Junkers.
As he caught his breath, an approaching clicking accompanied by a high-pitched, barely suppressed chortling came up behind him. Junkrat and Roadhog, still dressed as farmer's in overalls, stood behind him as they looked up at the smoke rising from the center of Junkertown.
"Hahahahaha! We've done it, mates!" Junkrat exclaimed, pumping a bloody metal arm into the air. "The Queen is gone! Finally! No more having someone to boss us around, anymore."
He took a break from speaking to burst into more laughter. Literally stamping his feet against the ground as he did.
"Now we can roam around these parts as free as we please! Or, when we decided to return home for a short escapade from all our 'business trips'. And we couldn't have done it without you, mate!"
Nathan turned his head slightly to peer behind his shoulder for a moment, before looking back to the ground.
"I mean… We could've done it the first time around with the boom trolley, but life really likes to screw you in the arse when it comes to executing masterplans. Sooooooo, maybe partial credit? I don't know. Roadie, what do you reckon?"
"… Hmph," Rutledge only scoffed, his mask stained with kangaroo bits.
"… Wait… 'Payment'…?"
"Yeah, payment," Brin said, finally standing up to his full height and turning to address Fawkes. "I've done my part of the deal. Now, it's time for you to fulfill yours."
Jamison narrowed his eyes at Nathan, who stared back with a neutral expression as the sounds of a crumbling castle echoed behind him.
"Oh, right!" Junkrat eyes lit up with realization, palming his face, and smiling. "Your payment for a hard day's work! No, mate, I didn't forget. I'm a proper, legitimate businessman…! Eh, what did you want, though?"
