#omnic haywire

[by-ag-mn]

Protective parents xD

Omnic oc Haywire:

[rubyceazaart]

More Haywire stuff. First, a messy concept for her moveset. Then her with her boss Max, Ramattra and then an additional overwatch oc, Rita teasing her ( I haven't reworked her yet... I'll get to it.)

[nitewrighter]

I have some concerns about Zenyatta in Overwatch 2.

Like I was just thinking, “Hmm.. seems a little re-hashy that they’re trying to kill Zenyatta---like, they already killed Mondatta, and Zenyatta isn’t as public a figure as Mondatta so I don’t really see that as the kind of human/omnic conflict powderkeg that killing Mondatta was, so why target him?”

And then I realized, maybe they’re not trying to kill Zenyatta. Because the worst thing Talon can do to you...

...isn’t necessarily “kill you.”

So why is Sombra, a character whose whole shtick is sticking to the shadows and working behind the scenes, centered so prominently here?

Sombra’s role in Talon isn’t 100% assassin. In the Hero of Numbani novel, Sombra’s able to rewrite Omnic codes, triggering a condition called “Fadeout” that can wipe out an Omnic’s memories and personality functions--basically she uses this to make omnics around Numbani go haywire to raise tensions and sow dissent in the city. She’s canonically taken control of Omnics before. 

Why put so much puppetry imagery into her cosmetics?

I’m just saying...

[clareguilty]

Kintkober 2020 Prompt #2

These prompts are turning out a little longer than i anticipated... whoops

Reinhardt/f!reader Rating: Explicit | Aphrodisiacs, dubcon, size difference Word count: ~1300

Lieutenant Wilhelm was impressive. You had seen him on the battlefield, in strategy meetings, he was courageous, steadfast, and as strong as ten men.

Which was probably why it was just the two of you sent to retrieve a classified parcel from a designated location at an hour that could only mean trouble. You were armed, of course. And so was Reinhardt.

Armored, more like it. He didn’t carry a weapon, rather just impressively large gauntlets capable of blocking fire and also flattening an oncoming car. It was good enough for you.

The point of contact was waiting at the back of a large black vehicle. Definitely armored, definitely filled with people carrying guns. You took your place at Reinhardt’s side, a few meters distance between you and the very obvious set up. There was already half a militia’s worth of men standing in plain sight. Who was to say how many were lying in wait?

You tapped Reinhardt on the inside of the arm as inconspicuously as possible. This is a trap.

He coughed twice into his sleeve. I know.

You tallied up the amount of ammunition you had on you hidden beneath your coat and compared that to the estimated amount of people you were probably going to have to shoot.

“Lieutenant,” the point of contact greeted. They may have been an omnic, may have just been someone in a mask.

“Good evening,” Reinhardt greeted, always with the manners. “Do you have what we came for?”

“Of course,” the contact nodded. The back doors of the vehicle swung open to reveal a large silver trunk. Gloved hands opened the latches, and reached inside to retrieve a smaller container. “Once the… ah… payment has been sent, it’s all yours.”

Reinhardt retrieved a tablet from his pocket, it looked like a cell phone in his enormous hand. “Warden Holt? This is Lieutenant Wilhelm from the courthouse. You can go ahead with the transfer.”

A voice came through from the other end. “Transfer is a go. Copy.”

There was a long moment of silence. At last, the contact tilted their head, as if receiving a message. “Excellent. It’s all yours.”

The two approached each other, step by step. Reinhardt accepted the canister from the contact. The deal was done.

A quiet pop sounded from above you. Reinhardt flinched, reaching for his neck and coming away with something in his hand. A dart.

You had turned and fired before the shooter could take aim for another shot. The sound of your own weapon was a cataclysm for chaos and combat. You ducked into cover and began picking off the hired guns one by one. Reinhardt was wreaking havoc on the remainders, roaring and knocking men away with enough force to send them flying.

It was a quick fight. An easy one. You and Reinhardt had returned to the transport within minutes.

Except something was wrong with Reinhardt.

“Are you okay, Lieutenant?” you asked, placing a hand on his arm.

He didn’t answer, simply shrugged you off and made his way inside the ship. It was then that he promptly passed out.

He collapsed to the ground with such force, you immediately ran to his side.

“Captain Amari,” you spoke hurriedly into your comms. “We secured the parcel, but there’s something wrong with the Lieutenant. He’s currently unconscious in the transport. He was hit with some kind of dart earlier, there’s no way of knowing what was in it.”

Ana’s voice was cool and collected as always. “His vitals are certainly going haywire, but nothing life-threatening at the moment. Get the ship in the air and keep me updated on his condition.”

No problem. You set the return course and immediately settled at Reinhardt’s side. He was too large for you to really move him, but you lifted his head in your lap and carded your fingers through his hair.

“Reinhardt,” you whispered. “Please. You’ve got to get up.” You afforded yourself a moment of vulnerability. You had feelings for your superior officer. He had feelings for you. The two of you would never act on it.

But you couldn’t stay professional when he was nearly lifeless before you, skin burning up and breaths shallow and quick. You watched over him.

He woke with a startled gasp, eyes unfocused. You were already preparing to call Ana when a large, armored hand gripped your arm.

“Reinhardt?” you asked, meeting his eyes. They were dark, dangerous.

“Meine Liebe,” he whispered. “I need you.”

“What can I-” your question was interrupted as he pinned you to the floor for the transport ship, tearing at your clothes until they were shreds. He stopped to look at the gauntlets for a moment, before ripping them away as well.

Reinhardt buried his face between your legs without a moment’s hesitation. You cried out, all of your concerns melting away as he ate you out in ways you had only ever imagined. He was strong enough to lift you and hold you still, keeping you in place as you moaned and arched your back.

You came with a loud cry, fingers scrabbling against Reinhardt’s arms and heels kicking into his back. He hardly seemed to notice. He simply laid you gently back on the floor so he could tear his own clothes off. You couldn’t look away from his cock, huge and already dripping.

Once again, Reinhardt scooped you into his hold, arranging you so that your legs draped over his thighs. He kissed you deeply, and you tasted yourself on his tongue.

“I have held back for too long,” he breathed into your skin. “I’m going to make you mine.”

You knew you should protest -- at least wait until he had been cleared by medical, but you were lightheaded and warm from his kiss. “Yours,” you murmured and ground your hips down towards his.

His cock was huge, hard and leaking between your bodies. You needed nothing more than to feel him inside of you. Every rock of your hips only increasing the desperation in your belly. “Please…” you begged.

Reinhardt growled. “You’re going to take Daddy’s cock, aren’t you?” He pulled your hips to his.

“Yes,” you whined. Your own head was light, heart pounding beneath your skin. You vaguely wondered if you had also come in contact with whatever had been in that dart.

“Tell me you need it. Tell me how much you need Daddy’s cock.” His voice was so commanding, so much darker than you were accustomed to hearing.

“I need it. I need your cock, Daddy.” It filled you with shame to admit, and your whole body grew warm at the realization of what you, a high ranking officer, had just said.

But it was what Reinhardt wanted. He pressed his cock against you, pulling you down onto his length. The stretch was overwhelming, more than you could take. You collapsed against him as he continued to move. Whatever was coursing through his veins had taken hold of him, and he would not stop until he had filled you. It seemed like an eternity until your hips met his. You were stretched around his cock, hips shaking with the sensation of him twitching inside you.

“Fuck, Daddy,” the words slipped from your lips unbidden, you were just as lost as him. He bucked his hips up, somehow filling you even more than before.

He move you on his cock, lifting you with his practically inhuman strength and using your body for his own pleasure. You gasped and shuddered in his grip, another orgasm ripping through you without warning.

Reinhardt came with a roar, rolling so that you were beneath him and driving you into the floor of the ship with his hips. You could feel the mess between your thighs as he came inside of you. You had been claimed by him.

He did not let you move away even when he had finished, holding you close as both of your heart rates slowed and your breathing returned to normal.

You heard the ship initiate it’s landing sequence, and you wondered how in the world you were going to explain this to Captain Amari.

[ultradiplr]

#1 Fan

Plot: You catch the eye of your favorite baseball star Siebren de Kuiper before a game~

Tags: Sort-of-Sexting, Age Difference. Semi-Public. BJ. Overuse of the smiling emoji. Reader radiates big bottom energy, but is otherwise gender neutral. Sigma is a… Fuckboi. lol

A/N: I have no self control and even though I have like five other things I’m working on right now @sketchingshow ‘s Baseball!Sigma has given fuel to a new fire.

Xx

You look at the clock over the ticket booth and grimace, looking down at the digital ticket you had pulled up on your phone screen, mentally face palming at how you had gotten 12:30 and 2:30 mixed up. You sighed and walked up to the qr scanner, verifying yourself, and walked through the rotating metal pipes of the entrance, figuring since you were already here you might as well check in. It’s not like you could go home and wait considering it took you an hour to get here.

Oh, the things you were willing to put up with so you could see your favorite baseball player Siebren de Kuiper in his last season.

There were a bunch of people here already, staff and fans alike, though mostly for the home team, so you weren’t that anxious at being so early. You walked through the entrance hall, taking a few photos of some of the player posters hanging, and out through a vomitorium that lead into the stadium. You looked out over the empty field, bright and green and surrounded by high walls of seats, and took a quick selfie with the vast expanse of the stadium behind you, at least being this early meant no one knocking you down or being in the way for a cute photo. 

You wandered down closer to the field, taking in the smell of freshly cut and watered grass, and took a load off in one of the more expensive seats. The home team was currently practicing before the game so you didn’t really care that much about watching them, content to fiddle with your phone until somebody told you to move. 

For a while you browsed some videos and looked through your social media when you got an alert. Siebren de Kuiper had posted an update on his profile. You tapped the notification and simultaneously had your heart drop into your feet and your stomach rise into your lungs when you saw something you never thought you would,

A picture of you, sitting alone in the stands wearing his name and number, boredly looking at your phone with the caption, 

“Not seen much nowadays, an eager fan. Lol. -Siebren.”

Your face was instantly set ablaze with embarrassment, too embarrassed to glance up and see the teams trading off field time, not sure how you’d react if you actually saw him looking in your direction. God, you wanted to die, but at the same time you felt like shouting out loud and dancing. You didn’t know what to do, you’ve never been noticed by a celebrity before. Should you leave a comment? Reshare it? Screencap it, print it, and hang it on your wall? Well, maybe not that, but what! Oh god this was so cool and crazy and oh god, you looked so weird in this pic! Was that what it looked when you sat down? Such poor posture! Ugh and you looked so tired! Would it be weird to try and doll yourself up or-

You shake your head and pinched the bridge of your nose, you were overthinking this. What would a normal person do in this situation? You typed out a quick comment. “Haha, that be me!” No, no too childish. “Wtf, that’s me!!!” Too surprised. Hmmm...

“Lol that’s me!”

Normal and friendly. Exactly how it should be. You were proud of yourself as you submitted the comment, marveling at it under his picture. You were nervous at him seeing it as you scrolled through his feed a little, mostly selfies of him with his team, over filtered pictures of his home life, and reshared posts about space facts and dumb baseball puns. It was honestly kind of adorable and underappreciated, if the low amount of likes meant anything, the man was as wholesome as they came and no one seemed to appreciate it!

A new notification popped up as you scrolled, a reply to your comment!

You tapped it and felt your heart flutter, Siebren de Kuiper had liked and replied!

“Thank You for your eager support then! :) - Siebren.”

A wide smile crossed your face at that, god that was adorable! You typed out a reply without thinking,

“Always a pleasure! <3” 

You giggled when you hit confirm, insides all warm. This was so cool. Like, literally, this was the coolest thing ever. You glanced up to the field, face burning when you noticed that he sat not too far away from you, sitting in the dugout a little diagonally from you, tapping away on a smartpad. Most likely browsing his own stuff. That was cool. He was cool. And handsome. And nice. And funny. And smart. And- okay your brain was going haywire. 

You needed to take a walk before you began to hyperventilate. You stood up and walked back into the entrance hall where miscellaneous vendors had set up, mostly baseball paraphernalia for the visitor’s team since the home team had it’s own gift shop in the building. You browsed a bit to distract yourself from the excitement. 

You were looking at a new version of the shirt you were already wearing when your phone buzzed with a notification.

“New direct message.”

That was odd, you never got dmed. You quickly opened it to find that you got a message from a random, empty account you weren’t following named Sigma14, weird name.

Where did you go?

You always forgot to lock dms to private, shrugging, you typed out a quick reply.

Sorry, Wrong person!

You were flipping through your settings to find the right configuration when a new reply came through.

Oh, I’m sorry!

I forgot this was my personal account!

It’s me, Siebren!

Your heart stopped and heat filled your body again, but your rational mind was rightfully unconvinced.

Yeah, sure you are.

Just send me the virus link

lol

You typed out, but waited for a reply this time, not knowing if you’d prefer to be let down with this being some weird scammer or actually get a real reply. Both seemed equally upsetting but for different reasons and on different ends of the spectrum. 

Here’s Proof!

He sent a few pictures. The first was of him, smiling into the camera with a thumbs up while sitting in a dugout, his face sweaty and his greying hair a little mused, then the next was a picture of the field you were just in, the name of the stadium clearly seen, and the last was a picture of the seat you were sitting in with a red question mark and arrow pointing to it. 

See!

He added after. You hugged your phone and squealed quietly, suddenly bursting with energy. Holy shit. Holy shit. Holy shit. It was really him!!!

akdjfldjsaf!

it’s really you!!!

I’m a huge fan!!

You typed out excitedly. 

Haha

I noticed!

Thank you for supporting me!

:)

So where did you run off to?

You took a photo of the shirt table you were standing at, glad that it was still pretty empty so no one seemed to mind you loitering around the table. You framed two different shirts with his name and number on it in two different colors, home and away.

Just buying some merch.

I need a new shirt

Lol

Which one do you think I should get?

You smiled when the texting bubble instantly popped up, feeling bubbly at the knowledge he was paying attention to you and not practicing.

Firstly, You have excellent taste!

And secondly, I don’t know…

I think I’d have to see it on you!

That last message almost killed you as you stood with your mouth open, if you’d been an omnic you were sure you’d have overheated and combusted. What the heck! What the Heck! Was he? No. Was he? No, surely not! He couldn’t have. That was… that was.. Did he just ask for a pic? You were blushing hard and silently staring at the words on screen before the typing bubble came up again.

Goodness!

I’m sorry for that last sentence!

I didn’t realize how that sounded!

I hope I did not upset you!

You let out a breath reading his reply, nerves calming. Of course he didn’t! Why would world famous baseball star Siebren de Kuiper want to get a pic of you in his jerseys? You were sure he could have actual models if he wanted. He didn’t need you! Oof, that was harsh, but true.

asfadaafsd haha

it’s alright!!!!!

I didn’t think anything of it

I think I’m just going to buy both, they’re both nice

You quickly replied, not wanting him to think you were upset at him. And you weren’t. Surprised, yes. But not angry. You mean, you’d totally send pics to him if he wanted, but you were sure he’d never want that. Right? 

They are!

And I’m sure both will look great on you!

:)

Your hands flexed on your phone as you gripped it a little tighter, looking at the two still unpurchased shirts. You picked up the shirts up, buying them and went to the nearest bathroom. You take off your shirt and replace it with the away shirt, leaving it a little unbuttoned, and snapped a mirror selfie, and looked at it on your phone. Cute despite the bathroom behind you. You did the same with the home shirt. 

You sat on the toilet holding your phone tightly as you debated actually sending them. They weren’t very explicit but still, the implication would be carried if he really meant anything the first time around. If he meant anything. Which he probably didn’t. So these photos wouldn’t be too bad to send… right?

You bit your lip and hit send. Waiting anxiously for a reply. Your heart was racing as you waited, feeling your blood pressure rise when the typing bubbles popped up.

:) :) :)

I was right.

They do look good on you!

You erupted in a fit of giggles, nerves a little on fire, god this was the craziest thing you’ve ever done. He wasn’t finished as more texts came in,

Would you like to get them signed?

:)

Holy fuck. Was he flirting with you? He had to be, right? Well shit, you couldn’t pass this opportunity up! You quickly typed out a reply, fingers shaking a little.

Would you?!?

Omg that would be amazing!

His reply came in instantly,

Come by entrance five in ten minutes.

I’ll gladly sign you.

:)

You actually yelled laughed, face burning like a stove, and pumped your fist in the air. Yes. Yes. Yes. You left the bathroom insanely giddy, wearing the white home shirt, and went to look at a map of the stadium. Entrance five was the farthest from the main entrances, and from what it looked like on your phone, a part of the stadium that was going to be completely empty. You chewed your lip as you made your way over there, nerves on fire. God you hoped this was going the way you wanted it and you hadn’t just misinterpreted everything.

About twelve minutes later as you sat in the empty hallway flipping through your phone and trying to distract yourself from your racing thoughts, he walked in through the stadium side. You got up instantly as his large shadow stretched across the floor. God, he was tall. Seven feet if you remembered correctly, two feet taller than you, and broad, insanely broad, arms like pythons. He looked a bit sweaty in his baseball uniform, an outfit that hid very little on his hulking frame, and smiled at you apologetically.

“I didn’t mean to keep you waiting.” He said coolly as he walked inside.

 He stepped up toward you gently, a kind smile as he held out a hand. You grasped his hand with both of yours, his hands were large, insanely, fuck, he was so much bigger than you, your mouth watered a little. 

“It’s no problem, I was happy to wait!” You said nervously and a little quickly, “I’m Y/N.”

“Y/N.” He repeated in his slightly accented voice, warm and absolutely lovely, sounding a lot different than what you were used to from watching interviews. “A lovely name.”

You laughed nervously and looked off, embarrassed, “T-thank you.” you stutter out as you dropped your hands to hide in your pockets.

“So, make this out to Y/N then?” He asked, pulling a pen out of his pocket and looking at you softly. God, your heart was a puddle.

“Uhh, yeah, I guess.” You said and he hummed in agreement.

You were going to hold out a piece of your shirt out for him to sign, but instead he stepped a little closely and bent down, putting the tip down just under your shoulder. You didn’t miss the glimmer in his eye as he bent in close, holding you still a little with his big hands, and wrote delicately on your skin. You held your breath, biting your lip as the hulking mass of him was so close to you, making your head swim.

“To my loyal fan Y/N,” He said as he wrote, his tone having gone down a notch, making your skin erupt in goosebumps, “Siebren.” He signed, eyes locking with yours as he stood back up.

You laughed breathlessly, leaning on the wall behind you for support as he didn’t move back much, looming over you a bit. 

“T-thank you, I, uh… thanks.” You said, biting your lip a little and fluttering your eyes.

He smirked as he leaned on the wall above you, caging you a little, though leaving enough room that if you really wanted to leave you could. He was giving you a chance to stop, maybe saving face if he also misinterpreted, this was all up to you.

You chewed your lip as he looked down at you expectantly. Your hands shook a little as they rose and gently rested against the rough fabric of his uniform over his chest. He continued watching you, eyes darkening as you hands wandered over his abdomen, feeling him up a little. He was so firm and a lot more ripped than you had thought. This man was a damn brick house.

You hesitated a little as you got lower, looking up at him for permission as your fingers got to his waistband. He smiled, his hand not propping himself against the wall raising to grasp your smaller ones and gently pushing you lower himself, right over his half hard on.

He huffed hotly as you made contact with him through his pants and you couldn’t help the little whine that escaped your throat. You felt him up, mouth watering a bit at the feel of the size of him, only half hard it was already bigger than the length of your hand. You groped and stroked him through his pants, pulling a few groans from him for the effort, but as he got harder he stopped you.

“Enough of that.” He said a little strained, voice heavy with lust as he patted your greedy hands away.

He stood up a little, no longer leaning over you for a moment as both hands went to undo his belt as your hands rested on his large thighs, you mind momentarily filled with the image of you straddling these thick slabs of meat. When he finally pulled himself from his pants, just as long and thick as you always imagined.You licked your lips and looked up at him, his face red, sweaty and eyes looking at you hungrily, it made you shiver in excitement. Fuck, you wanted him to come undone.

Without any prompting you bent down and kissed his cockhead as you slid onto your knees, earning a breathless word in dutch. You didn’t know what it was, but it sounded endearing and it stroked something inside you. He had to bend his knees a little and haunch over you, leaning his head against the wall, the height difference a little difficult while standing, but it made it all the more hotter in your opinion.

You lavished his hard cock with wet kisses and gentle stroking, going off the amazing noises he was making to get a feel for what he liked as you licked him sloppily. His dick was so hard and hot and beautiful His tasted a bit salty but he smelled really good, like grass and dirt and... chalk? It was a strangely arousing combination.

You smiled up at him as he stared at you, eyes half lidded and face red, looking a little angry and a little delirious. So handsome. Like a wet dream. You trailed a line of kisses from the underside of his base up to his tip, eyes locked with his as your lips got closer to his head, and when you did, you opened your mouth and laid his head on your tongue.

He moaned loudly, his hips canting and slipping through your hold into your mouth a little, dragging another moan out of him as you enveloped his head with your soft mouth. A hand dropped from the wall above you as it weaved itself into your hair. Your tongue swirled around his head, humming with please as he choked a little at the feel and gripped your hair a little harder.

He began to circle his hips a little, his cock slowly leaving and entering your wet mouth, getting a little deeper as he went. You just took it, drooling and moaning as he got deeper and deeper and pulled out less and less. As you got most of him in he stilled to a halt, breathing hard as you swallowed around him, looking at him with eyes full of hot tears with the stretch. Fuck, the feeling of him so deep was glorious, but he hadn’t hilted, and despite the fact he looked about to bust and you were not that sure if you could, you began bobbing your head a little to get farther.

His strangled moans where music to your ears as he didn’t stop your endeavor, burying his head in the crook of his arm against the wall as his other hand still had a tight grip in your hair. Your throat was getting raw as you mouthfucked him and you knew that you were probably depriving yourself with sufficient oxygen, but you didn’t care, the desire to please him much too large. 

Finally your nose met the pubes on his groin and he held you still against him, every muscle on his body pulled taut. He was mumbling something, but it didn’t sound like English, or dutch for that matter, just pure breathless gibberish as you felt him pulse in your mouth. You focused on breathing and relaxing around him, brain too scrambled to do much else.

Everything felt so good, your nerves were so sensitive and every little sensation made you shiver in desire.  The feeling of your shirt against your chest, of your pants against you groin, of his fingers in your hair, of the feeling of his thighs under your hands, it all felt so good. Fuck, having him in your throat was turning you on so much it felt like you were going to cum from this alone.

Slowly he began to rut into your mouth, using your mouth as his own little fleshlight. Fuck, it was so hot. H was breathing so hard, his thighs twitching under your hands. He was saying something now, dark and needy, spoken like demands or praises but you couldn’t understand him, couldn’t hear anything over the sound of the squelch inside your head of him fucking into your throat.

Your eyes lulled and you just moaned around him, feeling the drool spill onto the front of your shirt as he fucked you to delirium, choking you repeatedly on his cock. Suddenly he held you tight to his base and said the first words to break through the haze of lust since you started, 

“Swallow.” He said through grit teeth, like you had any other choice.

The feeling of him twitching in your mouth and spilling his hot cum in the back of your throat triggered your own orgasm, and without any direct stimulation your body was wracked with a full body shiver. Your body flinched against his hold as you felt the thick liquid get forced down, but he held you steady, and before he was finished, he pulled out quickly to squirt the last of himself on your slightly swollen lips and drool covered chin.

You would have been angry if you weren’t so out of it. He hummed with please as you stared up at him through the tears in your eyes, tilting your face up to him so he could see the copious amount of cum on your tongue.

“Swallow.” He said softer than before, out of breath.

You obediently closed your mouth and swallowed, opening it again to show him and he smiled widely, petting your head. 

“Goed, goed.” He purred and it made you bristle in happiness in your post orgasm state.

You stayed like that for a while, him petting you and whispering kind words as your mind slowly booted up again. As he got himself presentable again and you cleaned yourself, he helped you back onto your feet and you checked the time on your phone. 2:15? Geez, time really flew by.

You were about to alert him of this when his hand met your lower back as he lead you back toward the entrance hall, “Yes, I know.” He said with a wink.

You were confused until you actually got out and saw through the large glass windows of the entrance the sheets of rain pouring over everything. There was an alert on your phone from the ticket holder, 

Delayed Game.

You looked up at him and he smiled smugly, “It seems I have a bit more time before the game.” He said with fake surprise.

“Do you have anything else you’d like to get signed?” He asked, hand still on your lower back as he lead you into the more private area of the stadium.

The fire of desire was lit again and you smiled up at him, “I still have two more shirts.” you say innocently.

He hummed and you felt his thumb rub lightly over your lower spine, 

“Well, then, let’s find a pen.”

[doodlesomestories]

I just have one question though, so in your purfication series are you saying that junkrat knows something about the Omnion crisis that has a very powerful source? Why they went haywire but he hasn't told anybody? (I really do love this new series! 💕💗

Yup! Pretty much, Junkrat’s ‘treasure’ is ‘The Eye’ or the source that caused the Omnic crisis and is the ‘god program’ that Sombra has been searching for (in her origin story its better explained what she’s after). Whether or not he knows what it is or what it’s used for is something you have to find out later down the line~

[up-sideand-down]

Mechanically Reborn

After binge playing Overwatch...I got more crossover feels. Based on this old post of mine

Sephiroth sheathed his sword after the last test of his latest mech. It was always an oddly peaceful moment. He couldn’t hear the near-silent whirring of the machinery built around him. He could feel the bite of a sword hilt in his hand. It was as if, for one small moment, none of this had happened. 

Aerith opened the bay doors and gently broke the nostalgia. She was taking copious notes, as usual. It was a familiar sight, though he rather prefered her note-taking style to Hojo’s. Hojo never drew flower doodles in the corner. 

“So how is this last upgrade?” she asked, always wanting his honest opinion even if she knew the answer. 

“It’s hard to tell considering this is the 7th in two weeks,” Sephiroth said. 

“Do you want me to take them off?” she offered. 

“No.” Sephiroth replied far to quickly, noting her little smile. He almost smiled back. It pulled strangely at his face visor when he did. He had been meaning to tell her about it. 

“It’s...lighter,” he said, “at least it feels like it is. And smoother. You were right about the wiring. It was pinching somewhere...though I am leery about having mako free flowing around me, especially in a real battle when I take real damage.”

“I have on good word that the new lightweight mech material is twice as durable as mythril can be,” Aerith said, “and I have seen it in action. We’ll worry about leakage if we decide mako runs better. Speaking of...which test was better.” Sephiroth hesitated. 

“The mako...was more powerful, but with a materia powered suit I had more control,” Sephiroth said. 

“Control sounds better to me,” Aerith said. Sephiroth breathed in relief, getting yet another reminder that the WRO group was not ShinRa. This was about restoration, not power.

“Let’s drain the mako,” Aerith said, “I have a bracer that will do for now until we can do another update. There’s word of a plan of attack near Gongaga.” 

“So another solo mission,” Sephiroth said. 

“No,” Aerith said, “with a proper team. And I’m going with you.”

Seeing Aerith in battle gear...was a bit startling. He’d seen her fiddling with her staff before, as well as the wings, but hadn’t imagined they were hers. 

“My first work,” she said proudly, “though they’re not as impressive until I limit break.” She had shown him, as always. The healing stream feeling like being wrapped in sunline, and the booster like a cold drop of adrenaline. He also noted her blaster. 

“We are working together,” Sephiroth said, “If you are support, then it is our duty to protect you.” She laughed. 

“It sounds easy on the transport,” she said, “in action it’s not as simple. I can take care of myself and you.” He let it go. He knew her well enough to know this was not an argument to start. As they flew though, she nudged him. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked. He knew what she meant. 

“Not myself,” he said, “Still...not sure about what I expected from all this...but happy with the benefits. I can help...and I can walk again.” 

After landing, the chaos began. He saw exactly what Aerith meant. The WRO was sorely outnumbered. 

But not outmatched. Sephiroth dove through the front line, sword at the ready, and made a clear path for Aerith and their allies to follow. 

“We must retake the village,” Aerith said before their charge, “the reactor has already devastated these people enough. ShinRa onmics cannot rebuild it to do the same.” 

But those omnics were everywhere. They had gone haywire from their initial directives and unable to be reprogrammed. They seemed to have their own plans in mind, and ShinRa had fallen trying to stop it and hide the fact that it happened. 

Sephiroth watched two of their number fall under the omics and saw Aerith take some of the fire. He rushed to get back to her, impressed at her shooting and then he saw it. 

A limit break

“Heroes never die!” Aerith declared, suddenly surrounding the fallen with her healing light and they rose again to join the fight. Her wings seemed aflame and she rose in the air, still firing away until they got back in formation. She switched back to her staff and Sephiroth felt her warmth around her. 

“I’ve never been happier to have a Lifestream Engineer,” Sephiroth heard someone say. He had to agree. 

They had reached the village and were still so overwhelmed. They were holding...but for how long? Then their comms crackled with a new message. 

“Gongaga Forces. Backup from AVALANCHE is on it’s way. Touchdown will happen momentarily.” 

“Thank Gaia,” Aerith gasped, having had two more limit breaks since her first one. Sephiroth struggled to keep up with her, block as much as he could when suddenly-

“Get behind me!” A woman said. She put forward a transparent shield in front of her, bashing a few omnics in the process. The machines did not rise again after that. 

“You better get out of the way,” This voice sounded male. Sephiroth turned and almost attacked. It looked like a giant omnic, but then he realized there was a person inside of it. It was a giant man-run mech. 

“We can cover you,” the mecha man said, putting up his own shield. Sephiroth took the chance and retreated to prepare for their next wave.

Sephiroth kept and eye on their two scrappy rescuers. The mech and shield tech looked strong, but it couldn’t last forever. As if reading his mind, he saw the mech start to crumble. 

“I’m ejecting!” The man said. 

“I am your shield,” the brunette woman said, pulling out a flail. The man jumped out as his monster of a machine broke around him and pulled out his own gun. Sephiroth went to stand with them. The blonde man glanced at him and nudged his partner aside so Sephiroth could walk past. 

“Two minutes until the next mecha arrives,” the blonde said. 

“Understood,” the brunette replied, pulling her weapon from where it had embedded itself in an omnic’s head. 

“I can prepare it for self-destruct,” the blonde said. 

“Hold off until we say so,” Aerith said, “I might have an idea.” 

“You always do Aerith,” the blonde said. 

“The shield won’t hold that for two minutes,” the brunette said. 

“You can stand down a moment,” Sephiroth said, “we are ready.” Aerith nodded. The brunette nodded back. She put down her shield and gave her war cry. Sephiroth would realize that was her limit break later.

“Rally to me!” she cried, sending some sort of strength through all of them. Sephiroth didn’t know what came over him. He pulled his sword and it seemed to move outside of his own will. It cut down enemy over enemy until it seemed to exhaust itself. 

He saw another monster mecha land in front of the blonde and the man crawl inside. 

“All systems online,” he said, “I’m ready to initiate self destruct sequence.” 

“Aim it at the reactor,” Aerith said, “I bet it’s emitting some sort of signal, we might be able to scramble the omnic hardware.”

“I’ll need to get closer,” the man said. 

“You simply needed to ask,” Sephiroth said. Together Sephiroth and the mecha rider made their way to the crumbling husk. Fifty yards away the mecha stopped. 

“Time to mosey on,” he said, rockets on the back of the mecha shot forward as the man jumped out. Sephiroth shielded his eyes from the blast, not seeing the shield woman get in front again. 

As Aerith predicted, most of the omnics stopped. Some crumpling to the ground, a few wavering and staying on their feet. Sephiroth felt face tugging at his visor as he smiled at the cheering behind them. 

“We might not have made it if you two hadn’t shown up,” Aerith said, “It was getting dicey.” 

“I’m sure you would have done it,” the brunette said, “We just couldn’t resist butting in.” 

“I’m sorry,” Aerith said, “Sephiroth, these are some old friends of mine. This is Tifa, an apprentice Crusader. And this...I’ve actually talked about him a lot, this is Cloud. He’s the one who invented the material I’ve been using on you. He uses it for his mechas.” 

“The pleasure is mine,” Sephiroth said. 

“We always make a good impression,” Cloud said, giving a crooked little smile, “though usually not going through two mechas in one day. But anyway...Aerith’s mentioned you before, but she never said you could do that dragon thing with your sword.” 

“The what?” Sephiroth said. 

[a1barquq]

Like Fire

Setting is during 2069, no specific place as they travel around the world and this is mostly focused on FEELINGS™ rather than actions. Junkrat sees Azra sneaking out their trailer at night and decides to ask her why.

(English isn’t my first language, so apologies for any eventual grammar mistake you see. This is just an one-shot and there will be more in future. Once I am done with all of them, I plan on releasing them all as one story on AO3)

“What are ya doin’ out here, Azzie?” It wasn’t the first time Junkrat caught his bodyguard sneaking out their shared trailer in the dead of the night to set things on fire - but this time, he wanted answers. Azra had made a little bonfire on which she was burning some wood pieces she found, her curly and almost coily hairs were dancing in the wind like a wild mane, dark as tar and with an intense smell of gasoline.  Azra ignored him - didn’t even turn her head to look at him, infact - she was too focused on her activity. Unsatisfied with her silence, he kept talking.  

"It’s been one whole year since we started working together, mate!” “Yes, I know” “And yet there are still many things of you I don’t know, Azzie” “That’s because there are many things of me you don’t need to know, ‘Rat” “Awh mate, it’s ok! I mean I know about your fire fetish, ya don’t need to be shy abou...” “My what?” “Your fire f-”

Jamison stopped himself just in time: the woman finally faced him, her olive green eyes were now staring into his. Even if she was wearing only an oversized sleeveless shirt and boxer briefs, Azra was terrifying when angry.

“What the FUCK did you just say about me and fire?” “M-mate I’m s-sorry...” “Do you think I like this?! Do you think it’s for fun?!” For someone using a mortar and a flame-throwing mask as weapons, Azra’s stares could freeze the blood in most people’s veins.  On other occasions, when she reacted like that, he knew it was the time to run away and don’t come back for a while... But this time, Jamison could see something different than anger in her eyes. Could it be remorse?

The woman sighed and sat on a rock next to the bonfire. 

“Come here, Jamison. I need to tell you a story”

Jamison did as he was told, curiosity had taken over fear. Azra took a deep breath, her eyes now staring blankly at the fire.

“My family... The Omnics working with them at our farm went haywire...” A pause. The usually calm, controlled bodyguard's voice cracked. “I survived only because I was away when it all happened... I heard their screams in the fire...”

She started to sob uncontrollably, covering her face with her hands - the more she tried to stop herself the worse it got.  Jamison carefully stretched one arm around her shoulders. Azra didn’t seem to mind, so he slowly pulled her closer. 

“You see... Controlling fire is the only way I have to keep my sanity. Controlling the thing that took everything I had away” “I understand, mate... I guess you could say the same about me and explosives...” “Let me guess: the explosion caused by the ALF, right?” “Yeah. Lost my mum... Never knew who my father was”

He cupped her face with one hand and delicately made the bodyguard look at him: Azra’s tears had stopped, but their wet trail was still visible on her skin. 

“Remember when I told you that you were like fire? How it can be both good and bad?” Her voice returned to its usual calm tone, but Junkrat could feel there was something different in it - it was warm, relaxing to hear, not cold and emotionless as before. “I do... That whole duality thing, mate.  It stuck with me” “Good. Think of our... Traumas like a fire that we both have inside... You got to do some hard yakka to tame your fire”

He couldn’t help but smile at the young woman’s words: Azra wasn’t a native English speaker - hearing her own accent mixed with Aussie slang never failed to make him happy for some reason.

“The point is... That you must not let it consume you. Harness it. Make it your strenght. Turn the bad things into good things. Capisci? Do you understand?” “Gotcha”

After some time sitting so close, listening to the crackles of the flames and the chirping of crickets, Azra broke the hug, stretched and got up. 

“Well I’m going back to bed, Jamie” “I... I think I’ll be comin’ too mate, just give me a few more mins” “Alright” Jamison watched her as she walked back to their trailer. Azra never called him “Jamie” before.

“Azzie...” “Yes mate?” “... Thank you”

[funkymeihem-fiction]

Hot Headed, Cold Hearted- Chapter 4

“And you didn’t have any clue this was happenin’, eh? Noooo idea that your bot friend was acting suspicious? Seems a bit strange, that does.” Junkrat sat with the seat cranked back, arms folded behind his head and his feet propped up. Despite his slouched posture, he looked the farthest thing from relaxed. “Just poppin’ off to Canada, Junkrat. No reason to worry, Junkrat. I’ll just be on a mystery expedition with this bot that I’m insistin’ real hard is innocent and not at all weird-acting from the start! Tch. You’re real lucky Roadie and I are the sorts of loyal gents that we are, coming along like this. That’s worth at least ten points.” “I told you I don’t rank you by points!” Mei’s jaw tightened further, her hands white-knuckled around the steering grip of the little ship. “And get your peg leg off the dashboard!” He scowled at her but pulled his feet away and back onto the floor, even as he hissed back, “How about I put my peg wherever I like it, and you tell me what this mission of yours is actually about? You can’t pretend to be Little Miss Honesty and then not tell us important mission info, that’s puttin’ everything in jeopardy. What’s with the bot, Mei? I’ve seen how you’ve been acting, you know what’s really up?” “I said I don’t know! Sorry, sorry, I’m not trying to yell, but you’re making it very hard to focus. And I keep telling you, I don’t know why it’s singing that song or anything about what it might have been pointing at. And I already told you the mission parameters, we’re just going to the marked location and taking a look around in person. It just…It just wants us to go there, all right? We’re just checking it out, just in case.” “So this whole ‘scouting mission’ is just because that whacked-out bot wanted to go walkabout! And you let it!” Mei took several deep breaths. The snows had stopped but the winds had picked up, and their airship was making slow but steady progress against the face of the gale. They had left Tentpeg to start the long flight northward, into the faceless mass of the Canadian wilderness. The sea of green below was broken only by rocky mountains and lakes and there wasn’t even anything she could try to point out and distract him with. Junkrat had always been high-strung, but he was nigh uncontrollable about omnics, and even she had to admit that none of her attempts at assuaging his doubts seemed very convincing. “It’s not like that! Bastion is our friend and it clearly wants us to find something here, so we’re going to take a look. That’s all. Listen, it’s really not a big deal, so let’s just calm down. We can still do this together.” “And you can’t tell us why or if it might be leadin’ us right into an omnic trap!” Junkrat twisted in his seat to narrow his eyes at Bastion. “I say we scrap it, for our own sakes.” “Jamison, no! You promised me you would be nice! Both of you promised you wouldn’t cause trouble about this, and I’m still keeping you to that promise. Bastion is our teammate and…you don’t have to be friends, but you do have to be nice. You. Promised.”

The junker sputtered around his scarf, turning his glare back to her. “Well! Well that’s before I had all the facts, which apparently, you don’t have the facts either. That’s a promise made on shaky pretenses, love. Now me, I’m just trying to keep you safe because I’m a decent bloke, even if you’re putting up a muss and a fuss about it.” “You’re not trying to keep me safe, you’re just looking for excuses to be mean because you hate omnics!” Her voice rose even though she tried to keep it steady. “And you still promised me, no matter what. You have to keep your promises, you just have to.” “Arright, Mei! Two can play at your game; look at me and promise me that your bot friend isn’t gonna go haywire. Promise me, Mei, that you can tell me with one-hundred-percent certainty, that your overgrown washin’ machine isn’t leading us into danger. It’s just taking us to the pot of gold at the end of the fuckin’ rainbow and when we open it up, ducklings and kittens are gonna come spilling out and we’re all going to do a dance together because we’re all friends now juuuuust like you wanted.” “Would you stop being ridiculous? Do you want me to be ridiculous too? Fine! Minus ten points! Minus twenty points!” “You said we weren’t doing points! Well, aren’t you just Ms. Takesies-Backsies today? You just don’t want to face the music about your robo-pal having interior motives, is that it? Oh, that’s RICH! You know what-” Bastion all but cowered in the back of the ship’s cargo as the two in the front seat starting shouting again, its head darting between the two as the arguing continued. Snowball sat in its charging station, beeping occasionally when Mei spoke and flashing rude Mandarin phrases across its screen whenever Junkrat answered her. Ganymede seemed unwilling to face their constant bickering, staying unseen under Bastion’s winter hat. Bastion didn’t seem sure of what to do with itself, well aware that it was the subject of the tempest up front. It nervously clicked its fingertips against its gun arm, glancing up when there was a dangerous warning rumble from across the cargo hold. Roadhog, looming so large that he had to bend over inside the ship even when he was sitting down, was still staring at it through the lenses of his pig mask. Glancing from the huge man to its gun arm, Bastion quickly lowered it and held it behind its back before looking back to him. Roadhog did not respond, favorably or otherwise. Bastion’s eyelight darted from side to side again, then it held out its hand as if to shake. Roadhog did not take it. “Hmmm,” he rumbled once more, before turning his gaze back to the argument that was growing louder in volume by the minute. “…Mei.” “-And third of all, you can’t break promises just because you feel- WHAT?!” She stopped mid-argue and whirled back to look at him, then quailed at her own voice and quickly lowered it. “I’m sorry! Sorry. Mr. Roadhog. What is it?” “Are we getting close?” “Oh!” She seemed almost startled, like she had forgotten that she had been driving in the first place. Blinking, she looked down at the onboard map. “GPS gets a little spotty this far out. Less than fifty miles now. It’s taking a little longer than I would like with this wind and all. We’re flying against it, unfortunately, but there’s nothing for it. Weather system is moving in but we should be in and out before the snows hit.” She turned and looked at Junkrat expectantly. He sat with his arms folded petulantly and had been staring out the window, lifting a brow back at her. “What?” “I said, we should be in and out before the snows hit.” “Yeah?” “I said. We should be. In and out.” She stared at him before muttering in an almost hopeful way, waiting for the lewd remark that was sure to come. “In and out?” He didn’t even seem to notice her, glaring daggers at the omnic in the back. Mei rubbed her forehead before returning her attentions back to the GPS monitor. “…I got it,” Hog offered, lifting a hand from the backseat. She sighed loudly. “Thanks, Mr. Roadhog. Let’s just get there and get this over with. This isn’t really how I’d hoped this would go, but then…things never seem to go well, anyway. We’ll try to find a clearing for a landing, take Bastion to the site and see what’s there, and then we can all head back to a real town and maybe this time get a decent hotel. You two can have your own room and Bastion and Snowball and I can go over our findings so nobody has to be bothered anymore.” She steered the ship against another incoming gale, the whole vehicle shuddering from the force of it as it whistled outside the windows. “Let’s just do our jobs.” “Bee-weep-beep,” Bastion agreed, then quickly shrunk down into a more box-like structure once more when Roadhog looked at it again. Turning back towards the front, Roadhog glanced between the Mei and Junkrat, who were still trying very hard not to look at one another, but said nothing as he shrugged and sat back once more. With a last grumble, he folded his hands over his massive gut and lowered his head for yet another nap. ***

Hog snorted awake abruptly some minutes later when a loud beeping noise went off. Everyone jumped in their seats at the same time, and Mei adjusted her glasses quickly, squinting down at the GPS. “Oh! Is that a weather alert?” Three small dots, blinking rapidly, were coming up behind them on the map. For a moment, it simply didn’t register to Mei what it meant. They were in the absolute middle of nowhere. It would have been hard to get any more in the middle of nowhere. But there they were, no longer alone, as the three blinking dots started to close in behind them, almost like- Snowball’s shrill alarm call went off and recognition hit her like a thunderbolt. She gripped onto the little ship’s controls with both hands, roaring a “Everyone hold on!” before abruptly jerking it to one side. The little cargo ship was not meant for evasive maneuvers, but she jammed onto the brakes and pulled up with all her might as it tilted until it was almost horizontal. All the equipment inside that wasn’t strapped down went flying, boxes and debris and Bastion’s heavy metal chassis slamming into the unlucky Roadhog. Junkrat found himself assaulted with trash and food wrappers as he took a water bottle to the face, but he barely noticed, clinging onto the seatbelt that Mei had insisted he wear as several oblong blurs went flying past them outside the window. “Are those missiles? Are those fuckin’ missiles?!” His gaze widened as though he couldn’t believe what he was seeing, staring after the vapor trails that had started to curve as they turned back around for another go. “Who the hell!” “I don’t know! I don’t know!” Mei was still struggling at the helm, righting the vehicle after a moment as she stared in rapt horror down at the blinking red alerts. The little ship was barely above a civilian affair, something that Winston had gotten as little more than a cargo van to hold all her equipment, not anything to be sent into battle. It wasn’t equipped with shields, it wasn’t equipped with missiles, or even a single defensive countermeasure. And it certainly wouldn’t stand up to multiple explosions if they were being attacked. “We’re sitting ducks in this thing!” Junkrat was already struggling out of his seatbelt, diving into the mess in the back and coming up with his pack. Opening it up, he pulled out several mines, leaping over where Bastion was still trying to right itself. Flinging open one of the back doors and ignoring Mei’s demands for an explanation, his keen gaze followed one of the trails at it headed back towards them. Sticking out his tongue as he often did, concentrating, he narrowed his eyes as he watched its trajectory before rearing back and tossing the mine like a frisbee. It spun on its axis, whirling out into the wind before a quick press of the button detonated the device in an explosion of black and yellow against the gray clouds. The missile sensed the surge of heat nearby and turned right into the fireball, detonating on top of it as a second and far more powerful explosion went off behind them. “Got one!” He crowed, clinging onto the open door handle as he looked back to Mei for a quick bout of praise. She was still struggling to maintain control of the ship against the wind, her glasses askew and her expression intense as she aimed their path for the nearby mountains. The other two missiles were still being tracked on her screen, closing in behind them as she heard a series of clanks and whirs. Bastion had finally gotten itself upright, and had quickly shifted into its turret mode as Ganymede was sent fleeing to take shelter behind Snowball’s charger. With a “Doot-de-dooooot!”, it opened fire, the other back door shot off in a hail of bullets and sailing off into the sky as the omnic locked its sights on the targets headed towards them. Its bullet chains began cranking in rapid machine-gun fire as another cavalcade of ammo was sent spraying towards the incoming missiles. The gunfire caught one, another explosion sending a shockwave through the air that made Junkrat’s grin widen and his bones hum, though he narrowed his gaze at the bot and muttered a hateful little, “Showoff…” Bastion took aim once more, but the van hit another errant wind gale and shook violently as its shots went wild. The last missile rapidly closed in, spiraling through the air towards them, and one of the bot’s shots finally managed to hit its target. It detonated with another air-rippling boom, but this one had caught their tail end as the van pitched violently once more. Junkrat didn’t even have time to make up a one-liner or an insult, clinging to the remaining door…until it was ripped off its hinges, and both door and junker were wrenched into the open air. He was sucked out into the void, clawing at air as both he and his bag went spinning into the nothingness with an almost comical squeal. “YAAAWHOOOOOIEEEE!”

***

Roadhog was on his feet before Mei could even finish her horrified scream. The huge junker filled the open back of the van, his arm flinging outward as there was a creaking rustle of chain, his hook spinning out after his airborne partner. It snagged the bottom of his coat, narrowly missing impaling his skinny belly as Junkrat dangled and dragged from the van like a hooked fish; face down, ass skyward, and wide-eyed at the rushing blur of green trees beneath him. “Pull me up! Pull me up, ya drongo!” The shrieking of the wind drowned out any more words he might have said, flailing his skinny limbs as Roadhog started pulling the chain to reel him in. Hand over hand, he started lifting the younger man back towards safety. Inside, Mei allowed herself a relieved sigh… Right up until the screen started beeping and flashing red again. The engine of the left rear hover was on fire, and there were two more dots now closing in on them from the north. She recognized the shape almost at once, and the symbols on the hull only confirmed it; these were no doubt the source of the missile barrage, and they belonged to Talon. There would be no outrunning them this time, and though she yelled a warning and started to try and turn the van around, it was only moments before the Talon ships were in range. The first barrage was thrown off by the wind and Mei’s desperate attempts to barrel roll. It hit the front engines as more alarms went off and smoke began billowing from the hood. The whole vehicle dropped abruptly and started to tilt, and Roadhog was nearly pitched out the back, struggling to keep hold of the chain where Junkrat was still dangling. The ship was starting to limp downward, and Junkrat’s nose was dangerously close to brushing the tops of the trees as he heard the telltale popping of threads where he was precariously hooked by his winter coat. And when the rear engine died completely, that side of the ship dropped out from under Hog’s boots. He fell, the slack in the chain rippling along its length until Junkrat was jerked to and fro in the air, and then dropped into the treeline as the branches swallowed him up. There was a ripping noise and a cut-off scream, and then the hook was left spinning merrily in the air, empty of its charge, and Junkrat was gone entirely. “JAMIE! JAMIE, NO!” Mei’s wail cut through even the shrieking of the wind and the pops of the burning engines, slamming on the brakes to try and turn back around. Roadhog managed to right himself, shoving Bastion out of his way as he lunged back towards the front, his gigantic hand closing around both of Mei’s hand and the control grip beneath. Wheezing a breath, he snarled a low, “Keep going!” “No! Jamison, he-” “Keep going forward! No help if we’re dead!” Roadhog’s grip was like iron around her as he kept the ship straight. He was right. Military training and common sense bade them keep moving forward and staying on the defense until they could safely go back for help. But no amount of training in Lena’s VR Air Battle simulators could prepare for something like this. Their ship was barely moving forward on two and a half engines, trailing smoke and flames. Their only hope was to find a place on the mountainside that was clear enough to bail onto, but as they limped on their way, the Talon fighters were already upon them like lightning. Bastion was still perched in the back cargo, its turret gun swiveling desperately in hopes that the ships would pass by. Instead, another round of pulse bullets slammed into the side of their burning ship. It sheared through the metal like melted butter, nearly cutting the structure in two as sparks flew and the whole back end screeched and started to come apart. Bastion looked down as the floor gave way and sagged, and its turret form was already whirring and struggling to change back before it simply slid backwards and then dropped out of sight without a sound. With a panicked storm of tweeting and a flash of yellow feathers, Ganymede dove after it. Roadhog and Mei, and Snowball were the only ones left inside the rapidly disintegrating vehicle. Cracks had started to appear in the windshield and the GPS abruptly flickered off and went dead as the ‘check engine’ light lit up helpfully. Worse yet, the steering controls weren’t responding properly anymore, and she was sure she could smell burning behind the main control panel. “Mr. Roadhog, brace yourself!” she cried aloud, turning the ship downward. “I’m going to try to land it!” Roadhog buckled his seatbelt. The ship dropped again as the Talon fighters suddenly hung back, watching the van as it careened for the mountainside. The emergency lights were still flashing uselessly, blinking amongst the smoke and flames as it hit the treetops and bounced several times before it hit the stony slope. It went spinning like a toy, shedding science equipments and a flurry of papers, screeching across the rocks in a storm of sparks before slowly skidding to a stop against a massive boulder. It lay there, electric blue sparks still popping around it and fire starting to spread across the twisted hull. With their target firmly incapacitated, the Talon ships dove down after them.

***

Inside the wreckage, Roadhog had braced himself. The front of the van had dented inward and he was pretty sure that his leg had dented in with it, judging by the immense pain radiating up his femur, but he was alive and conscious. Well, semi-conscious. And being only semi-conscious and very much in pain was hardly ideal for their situation. Groping in his winter pack by his belly, he pulled out the familiar yellow canister, clicking it into place with one smooth well-practiced motion. The tab was pulled and the hogdrogen flooded his mask, his nose, and then his lungs in succession. The pain faded to a manageable level for now, and the fuzzy redness around his vision slowly came into focus. Mei was laying unmoving next to him, her arms hanging limply and her face buried in the airbag, and red was trickling down from where she rested against the rough white fabric. Hesitating slightly, Hog reached out one huge gloved hand and gently peeled her up and away from it. Her glasses were shattered, and it looked like her nose had been shattered with it, along with a deep open cut across her forehead. She flopped almost bonelessly in his grip, out cold. But she moaned a little when he moved her, and she was alive. The relief that flooded through him was almost better than the hogdrogen. “Tango down, two survivors, two fatalities.” Hog turned his head very slowly at the sound of a garbled voice outside, followed by the answering static of a radio. The Talon agents were advancing on what remained of their ship, weapons drawn, as they made their way through the debris. He heard one of them pause. “Papers have the Overwatch symbol on them. Sending visual…Confirmed…” The soldier waited for a moment, holding up one hand to signal the pause of his cohorts, before nodding. “Preparing for transport of the two captives for questioning…Roger that. Right, let’s take a look at who they sent. Move in, pacify any-” The hook and chain hurtled out of the black smoke, snagging one of the oncoming Talon troops and yanking them back out of sight before they could even react. Inside, there was a very brief yell, followed by the sound of a gun firing and the clatter of scrap metal…and then a sort of wet splattering noise. The other troops lifted their weapons as an immense shape lifted up out of the smoke and vapor, the massive junker rearing up to his full height, the swine mask’s blank glass lenses glinting like a dead thing’s, and the adorable pom-pom on Ana’s winter pig hat bobbling to and fro. Mei’s unconscious form had been unceremoniously draped over one shoulder in a fireman’s carry, her face smearing fresh blood into his coat. It was a precarious perch, but he needed both arms free, reaching into the debris of the ship and slamming a fistful of loose scrap and bolts into the feeder of his gun. When the first Talon agent opened fire, bullets ripping through his brand new parka and into the scarred meat of his thick hide, he answered in kind. A spray of razor-edged metal and rusted nails had always served him as well as any other ammo, and the screams that came after (if they had time to scream, anyway) were always like music to his ears. He descended upon the Talon troops like a thunderstorm. And if Mei had been awake, she could have testified that Australian storms were like no others in the world. The old junker had been nigh-legendary in his homeland, a one-man apocalyptic force responsible for the massacre of any errant omnic, junker, or fool that dared cross him. And that was what Talon faced now. The scrap gun clanked and shot, clanked and shot again, his other hand whirling the heavy metal hook around on its chain to drag in those who were stupid enough to think themselves out of his range. He dispatched two of them in very short order, and his heavy spiked boot brutally stomped one down into the snow when he saw them struggling to get back up again. Snowball finally managed to struggle its way out of the wreck of the van, blaring a cute beeping warcry as its emoticon eyes flashed into its ‘anger’ face. The little bot hadn’t been outfitted with any of its cryo-packets for a battle, but upon seeing Mei injured and under attack, it hurtled towards one of the Talon trooper’s faces, backing up and slamming into them again and again. After attacking Junkrat so many times, it had gotten adept at dodging limbs and fists, and threw itself at the offending soldier with all its might. Roadhog focused on the remaining agents. More bullets tore into his back, and when he turned to punish the man who had thought that would work against someone like him, he felt something spear through his coat, pinpricking into his skin with little metal prongs. The wires running from were attached to a little black box one of the other agents was holding. Heh. They thought a taser would work? What sort of idiot thought a taser would- The sheer power of the electrical volts that shot through him a moment later was certainly surprising. His limbs spasmed and stiffened, and he could feel Mei slipping out of his grasp. Powering through the pain, he managed to grasp blindly for the wires attached to the electrical prongs, ripping them free. Grabbing the unconscious girl in the crook of one arm, he felt more of the little prongs hit the massive expanse of his back, and then another by his shoulder. “Boss wants them alive!” He heard one of them say, just as more electrical convulsions ripped through him. He groaned, spasming once more despite his best efforts, as Mei was flung out of his grip and onto the snow, the huge junker collapsing to one knee a moment later. One of the troopers moved towards the girl, and was met with the spiked metal knuckles of Roadhog’s fist as they were punched hard enough to send them flying. With steam rising from the burnt areas of his skin surrounding the electric spikes, he tried to gather her back up again, crouching over her downed form in the blood-spattered snow. Snowball beeped in alarm and rushed towards them, and was hit with another set of the flying prongs. Yanked back by the wire suddenly attached to its underside, it flashed a series of exclamation marks and tried to pull away. A bolt of white arced from the black device, over the wire, and buzzed through its circuits, overloading them with a series of loud pops and crackling noises. With its screen flashing random symbols and emotes, it wavered from side to side before it went black and dead, dropping to the ground with a muffled thud. The thud when Roadhog hit the ground was much, much louder. The combined voltage from the Talon’s weaponry had finally downed even the mightiest of them, as the massive junker sprawled out in the snow with his heavy arm flung over the girl next to him. He lay unmoving as the remaining troopers swarmed over them both, arguing with one another as they tried to figure out how to attach their cuffs to fit over Hog’s thick wrists, and who would be stuck trying to move him into one of the ships. Mei was far easier to handle. Her limbs were quickly bound together before being lifted up and hauled away. One of the agents paused only to aim his visual device at her face, and was promptly answered by a low, gravely voice with an echoing undertone, sounding in the commlink in his ear. “…Agent Mei-Ling Zhou, one of the original organization’s members. Hm. Admittedly, that’s a…surprise. Bring her in. It’s been a long time since we’ve seen each other, and I’m sure she can’t wait to catch up with her old friends…”

***

Sometime later, the Talon ships were gone and the fire had finally died down in the wreckage of the van, smoldering with little bits of black ash flying away into the screaming winds. The snow had been stomped down around it, spattered with red, and all bodies and prisoners removed. Of its original occupants, nothing remained but the burnt-out husk of Snowball, half-buried and lifeless, and a pair of twisted, broken glasses abandoned on the cold ground.

[puckish-saint]

What measure is a non-humanoid?

I’ve written before about how omnics are treated in-universe, and without meaning to Blizzard brought up a good question, which is the difference between humanoid omnics like Zenyatta and the Shambali monks and the decidedly more alien omnics like those affiliated with Null Sector.  On one hand we have the human-omnic audience during Mondatta’s speech about unity, all omnics which have some semblance of a face.

Whenever the focus is on the omnics’ fight for their rights, they’re at the forefront, the sympathetic metal-humans who just want to live their lives.  Compare them to Null Sector.

No faces, different legs, non-human proportions. They’re the evil ones, the extremists, the terrorists who’d rather blow all King’s Row to hell than enter in a civilised dialogue about their rights.  They hold several humans hostage but they also have Mondatta, who you’d think should be on their side if not approving of their methods. But to them he and the mayor of London are one and the same. What did Mondatta do to earn their ire? Why aren’t there non-humanoid omnics in the audience at his speech? Why is the first time we see a significant non-humanoid omnic presence when they’re threatening to blow up the city?

(The answer is Blizzard’s incompetent and godawful at telling stories, but I digress) The fight for Omnic Rights, for any rights really, is and has always been a PR battle. That’s why when Rosa Parks went into the history books it was a carefully manufactured recreation of an earlier incident with a woman who would look better in the newspapers, who had no dirt to be dug up, who could comfortably be the face of the movement as the movement needed it. For humans, who hold all the reigns who decide if Omnics get to have rights, it’s much easier to empathise with the humanoid ones. Mondatta looks serene, friendly. Trustworthy. That omnic/human couple in the first row? Look at how cute they are. It’s a shame they’re beaten and spat at for loving each other, let’s do something about that. Meanwhile the non-humanoid omnics are left out in the rain. They do benefit from the fight for omnic rights, if the humanoid ones get rights so do they, but they are never in the news as a positive example of all that omnics can be.  In all the movie posters it’s humanoid omnics playing the roles, they’re the ones sitting in talk shows and talking about their experiences of the war that traumatised an entire people. When there are campaigns to facilitate understanding between omnics and humans it’s the humanoids that get all the attention. People barely understand them but the non-humanoids? They’re just where they were after the war ended and it’s not looking up. To most humans the omnics of Null Sector don’t even register as sentient, they’re just old warmachines without a directive, tools gone haywire. Not like the nice humanoid omnics who can cry and laugh and wear cute dresses. But they’re not different. They have the same software but because their hardware doesn’t look appealing enough, they’ll never get the same sympathy as their humanoid kin.  They have to work the jobs no one else wants to, if they get work at all. A non-humanoid omnic dreaming of becoming an actor, a singer, a nanny? Keep dreaming, pal, it’s not going to happen.  Omnics wear clothes to fit in, to make humans empathise with them, but these guys can’t. Nothing would fit them, nothing would look right.  And hell, maybe they could change that. Maybe it’s still possible to transfer their software into humanoid bodies, all sleek and appealing, and then they can fit in, then they can get the jobs they want. They can fall in love with a human and finally have even a tiny small chance that human won’t be repulsed by their advances. But would they? For that matter, should they make themselves to look more humanoid? It’s the equivalent of bleaching dark skin, of getting into the closet and locking the door, of saying “I’m not like those other girls.” Some might make that choice. There seem to be a lot more humanoid than non-humanoid omnics, a lot that don’t look like they are equipped to have fought in the omnic crisis.  That’s Null Sector’s central message. Why they went to such lengths to capture humans and humanoid omnics alike. They’re saying “We’re here and we shouldn’t have to change to be treated equally.”

[rubyceazaart]

Unfortunately getting back into overwatch, I'm reworking my evil talon omnic oc to look cool. And I'm too scared to finish her so take the doodles

[nitewrighter]

Volskaya Incident Part 2

Part 1 is here. Meant to have this finished by Gency week but a bunch of stuff came up and then it was a 9000 word monster so I’ve cut it down to 4-5k words size and Part 3 should be coming even sooner.

---

It didn’t take them long to descend to the ground. Genji would have worried about her arms getting tired between holding him and her caduceus staff, but she seemed to be in about as good spirits as she could be after saving him from falling to his death.

“Genji! Genji are you all right?!” Tracer’s voice came over the comms as Genji and Mercy were descending.

“We’re fine,” said Genji, putting his hand to the side of his helmet.

An audible sigh of relief came on the other end of the comm.

“What’s your status?” said Mercy.

“Some scratches from the drones and debris, but nothing I can’t handle, Doc,” said Tracer, “If the blast hurt me, I think the Recall undid that.”

“Good,” said Mercy,

“We still need to regroup,” said Tracer, “I’ll see you two at rendezvous point A?”

“Understood,” said Mercy and Genji at the same time. They exchanged glances, then both looked off. Being held bridal-style was a new experience for Genji. Back in his Blackwatch days McCree or Reyes could both haul him into a fireman carry if he was injured on a mission, though he remembered his cybernetic limbs were heavier back then, but this was different.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re remarkably strong for your build?” said Genji as Mercy’s boots touched down on the ground.

“Oh,” Mercy blinked a few times, “Well... years of biotic treatment and the demands of the Valkyrie suit... I mean, to your credit your prosthetics were designed to be pretty lightweight.

Genji chuckled a little. “I’ve been thrown around enough to know that much is true,” he said.

That got a grin and a slight laugh out of Mercy. “I’m just glad you’re all right,” she said.

“Thanks to you,” said Genji.

Mercy smiled and a pause passed between them, the only sound being the groans of metal and the sparking cables of the fallen svyatogor, and the soft chiming whir of Mercy’s own caduceus staff.

“You...uh...” Genji cleared his throat, “You can put me down now, Doctor Ziegler.”

“Mm? Oh!” Mercy reddened and set him down, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to---I don’t know what I was---”

“It’s fine,” said Genji, “There are worse places to be.”

Mercy could hear the smile in his voice and her blush brightened as she pushed her bangs back from her face.

“Doctor Ziegler!” Zarya called and hurried over. She looked at Genji, then back to Mercy, “Your comrades...they escaped?”

“Yes,” said Mercy.

Zarya huffed with some relief, then looked Genji up and down. “An omnic?” she said, brow furrowed.

“No,” said Genji, “Just... extensive prosthetics.”

“Hm,” said Zarya.

“Genji--What did you mean earlier---it didn’t just go haywire?” said Mercy.

“Oh--yes,” said Genji, “There was some kind of... skull icon on the screen in the machine’s core. I... I think the mech was being controlled.”

“Controlled,” repeated Zarya, skeptically, “That is not possible.”

Genji rubbed the back of his neck, “Well I didn’t think Omnic generators could be hacked either but---”

“Omnic?” said Zarya.

“Yes,” said Genji, “The mech’s core was clearly Omnic.”

“And how would you know what Omnic tech looks like?” said Zarya, arching an eyebrow.

“I... spent several years among the Shambali,” said Genji.

“So I’m supposed to trust an Omnic sympathizer,” said Zarya.

“I think we’re getting off-track,” said Mercy, “If the mech was being controlled-”

“Volskaya industries does not use Omnic technology---It is devoted to defending Russia against the scourge of the Siberian Omnium,” said Zarya.

“Do you want me to dig among the wreckage and point it out to you?” said Genji, putting his hands on his hips.

“Genji---” Mercy put a hand on his shoulder, picking up on the frustration in his voice. Zarya brought her hand to her ear and spoke in Russian ( “Все ли вне пределов досягаемости?”) and the heat sinks in Genji’s shoulders clicked out and steamed in frustration.

“I think that would be inadvisable,” said Zarya, bringing her hand down from her ear and looking at the wreckage of the Svyatogor.

“Inadvisable?” said Genji.

Zarya pointed her gun at Genji and Mercy. Genji flinched and instinctively stepped in front of Mercy and braced himself, but then he found them both encased in a pink bubble. “What---?” Genji poked at the bubble and watched as Zarya encased herself in another bubble from her gun. “What is thi--”

The wreckage of the Svyatogor exploded. Genji looked around, feeling a spike of panic then some slight confusion as the flames rushed up against the pink glow of the bubble he and Mercy were in. The flames died down and the bubble faded around them.

Genji looked around at the now smoldering wreckage of the Svyatogor. He was pretty sure at this point, if he could have proven that the heart of the machine was omnic before, he couldn’t prove it now.

“As I said,” said Zarya, “Inadvisable.”

“Thank you,” said Mercy, “For the shielding.”

Zarya just shrugged. “We know what we’re doing here,” she said, resting her particle cannon on the ground and leaning against it.

Mercy exhaled and stepped forward, “Look,” she said, “Omnic technology or not, I’m sure there are plenty of safeguards in place to prevent this sort of thing from happening to begin with. So something had to cause it.”

“Perhaps some new remote attack from the omnium,...” said Zarya.

Genji folded his arms.

“Or something different!” Mercy added quickly, “We should probably look around to see if there's anything unusual.”

Zarya scoffed a little, “I am not about to let two members of a renegade task force wander around a factory in a city I am sworn to protect.”

Mercy pursed her lips and glanced off.

“...Unsupervised,” said Zarya after a long pause. Mercy’s eyes widened. “You saved many lives on the Siberian front, Doctor Ziegler,” said Zarya, “And you helped protect many people today. I would be remiss not to put your concerns at ease.”

“Well... we have another friend coming along. We’d better get to our rendezvous point,” said Mercy, smiling slightly.

---

“Seems like the Russians have this well-handled,” said Ana as they watched the Svyatogor go down from one of the moving platforms of the factory.

“Well of course they did,” said Jack as the platform drifted away from the sight of the wreckage, “It was only a diversion after all.”

“Hm,” Ana fiddled with her shrike helm a bit before putting it on. There was the roar of the explosion from the yard, “I hope they’re all right,” she said softly.

“If they want to throw their lives away attempting to rebuild something the world doesn’t want, they’re welcome to do so,” said Jack. He felt a sharp glare from Ana even from behind her shrike helmet.

“They’re not our responsibility,” Jack said firmly, “And if they’re smart, they’ll get out of here before the UN realizes they’re here.”

“But Reaper is here,” said Ana, “They may not be his priority, but if he has a chance to kill more former members...”

“Well then we’d better stop him first, shouldn’t we?” said Jack as the platform moved deeper into the factory. Ana said nothing, but loaded another biotic cartridge into her rifle. They heard yelling as they reached the interior. There was a guard on a stretcher. Ana peered through her scope at the scene. The Svyatagor attack was meant largely as a distraction for Talon, she knew that much, but naturally for it to be a big enough threat, people had to actually get hurt. She had a short window before the platform moved too far for her to fire. She and Jack had a job to do, she knew this. Volskaya had their own medics, she knew this as well. But it was a panic out there, they were still scrambling to get the facility secure again. Who could know if he could receive the proper treatment in time? They had a mission. She knew they had a mission.

---

“Well?” said Reaper as Sombra worked at a panel next to the door.

“There’s some new hardware since our last infiltration,” said Sombra, “Nothing I can’t crack though.” She glanced over her shoulder at the handful of Talon agents they had to bring along with them this time and rolled her eyes.

“They wouldn’t be here if you had done your job last time,” said Reaper. Sombra shot him a sidelong glance as he flicked his comm on again. “Widowmaker,” he spoke, “How is our perimeter looking?”

---

Widowmaker brought a hand to her ear from her perch. She brought down her visor and watched a blue streak race across the factory yard.

“Are you sure they are not a priority?” she said, bringing the scope of her rifle up to her eye.

“If you can make the shot without compromising the mission, I won’t stop you,” Reaper spoke over the comm, “What do you see?”

Widowmaker frowned as she stared through her scope at Tracer racing through the yard. “An annoyance,” said Widowmaker.

“Widowmaker?” Reaper spoke over the comm. Widowmaker said nothing, her eye and scope slowly narrowing in on Tracer’s blue streak as she moved across the yard.

“Forget about what happened back in Numbani,” said Reaper, “Focus on the mission.”

Widowmaker rolled her eyes and brought her recon visor down.

“Well without the alarm trip of last time, we shouldn’t have a—-“ she caught sight of two figures on one of the moving platforms of the factory, “Merde.”

“Report,” said Reaper.

“If I report, can I trust that you will stick to the mission?” said Widowmaker, arching an eyebrow.

“Widow,” Reaper’s voice was a growl.

“The Shrike and the Soldier,” said Widowmaker, “I would know those guns anywhere.”

Reaper audibly scoffed on the other end. “Regular family reunion, isn’t it?”

“They did not seem to be engaging the Svyatogor like the others,” said Widowmaker, “I believe they’re operating independently,” she paused, “Perhaps they are here for you.”

“Keep them busy for now. I’ll deal with them in a bit,” said Reaper.

“I could deal with them for you,” said Widowmaker.

“They’re not yours to kill,” said Reaper.

“Akande was right. You are getting sentimental,” said Widowmaker.

“I don’t have to explain my reasoning to you. Kill them if you must, but only as a last resort.”

“Tch,” Widowmaker gave a glance back to Tracer, “And the annoyance?”

“She makes it through those factory doors and she’s all yours,” said Reaper.

“Very well,” said Widowmaker with a shrug.

—-

“You catch that?” said Reaper, bringing his hand away from his ear and turning to Sombra.

“I got it,” said Sombra, moving past the final encryption on the door’s security code. The doors slid open. Just past the doors was a workshop where a single engineer was taking notes on the glowing core of new prototype a particle cannon. He looked up at them, made eye contact with Reaper, immediately turned on his heel and raced to grab his comm and raise the alarm when Reaper fired and the engineer slumped over his table, his blood pooling around his tablet screen.

“Not much for conversation, are you?” said Sombra, stepping into the lab and gingerly around the blood puddle.

“Not much to say,” said Reaper, walking in after her. He stopped at the corpse, turned it over, and grabbed the keycard from around its neck.

Sombra looked around the lab, then brought up a couple screens up. “So this is their top-secret workshop…” she said, scanning around at the numerous projects and screens around the room, “Particle tech prototypes, graviton generators, Svyatagor plans for the next decade…Aw Gabe,” she said, elbowing him, “You know me.”

“We’re not shopping,” growled Reaper.

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” muttered Sombra,

Reaper said nothing, but scanned the keycard he took off the engineer in front of another door, and it opened to reveal a comparatively plain room with a single bright spherical object floating a few inches above a magnetic stand at the center of it.

“Hm,” Sombra put her hands on her hips, “Probably booby-trapped. Got any bags of sand?”

Reaper scoffed and moved forward.

“Oh come on—that movie’s from your time, right?” said Sombra.

“I’m not that old,” muttered Reaper, “Scan for additional security on it so we can grab it and get this over with.”

“Yeah, we should probably have you in bed by 6, right?” said Sombra, bringing up several screens.

“Sombra,” said Reaper.

“Kidding!” said Sombra.

She tapped at her screens, “Hm… tricky. By the looks of this system I may need to shut down power to—” An alarm suddenly started blaring and Sombra’s eyes widened.

“What did you do?” said Reaper.

“Don’t look at me!” said Sombra,

---

“There’s only a limited number of areas of the factory I can show you,” said Zarya, “I assure you our own guards are investigating the matter deeply, but perhaps a fresh pair of eyes can—”

The alarm started blaring and Zarya’s brow furrowed as several announcements came over the factory loudspeakers in Russian. Zarya swore and hefted up her particle cannon.

“What did it say?” said Mercy.

“The Shrike has been spotted,” said Zarya.

“The what?” said Mercy.

“Terrorist, vigilante, spy, angel, no one knows what its motives are, or even if it’s human or Omnic. But it’s armed with some kind of sniper rifle and unauthorized and frequently in places it’s not supposed to be. It’s become a bit of a ghost story among the factory workers here,” said Zarya, “It’s been months since it’s shown up though.”

Mercy pursed her lips and felt a buzzing on her comm. She brought her hand to her ear.

“Doc! What’s with the alarms?” Tracer’s voice buzzed in her ear.

“There’s an intruder in the factory,” said Mercy, “A sniper called ‘The Shrike.’ Do you think you can scout ahead? Don’t engage unless necessary, see if you can chase them down and corner them. We’ll move our rendezvous point to the interior of the factory and be right behind you.”

“Gotcha, Doc!” said Tracer. Tracer clicked off of the comm.

“She’ll need backup,” said Genji.

“She’ll get backup,” said Mercy, “But we stay together.”

---

“To be fair, I did tell you I was on the watchlist here,” said Ana as she and Jack crouched behind several crates as someone shouted at them in Russian through a megaphone, his voice half drowned out by the alarms.

“We said we weren’t going to compromise our position,” said Jack.

“What was I supposed to do?” said Ana, “Let that guard bleed out?”

“Let their medics handle it,” said Jack.

“I made a judgment call,” said Ana with that weathered determination of hers, “I honestly thought I was out of sight enough for him,” she huffed, “Either they’re getting better at their jobs or I must be getting old…”

“Tell me you at least have enough sleep darts for all of these guys,” said Jack.

Jack couldn’t really read Ana’s face with the Shrike mask, but the silent look she gave him was message enough. “Fine,” said Jack, activating his tactical visor and looking around the factory. He looked off to the side of the guards and saw several pipes of what his visor recognized as coolant leading up to the skeleton of a half-formed Svyatogor. He fired on the pipes and they released a blast of freezing vapor, forcing the guards back and breaking off visual contact, allowing him and Ana to sprint away from them. Ana skidded to a halt as sniper fire barely missed Jack’s head. Jack heard the fire and turned on his heel in the direction of the fire, laying down suppressing and retaliatory fire. That wasn’t a guard, Jack realized as he and Ana dove behind a large support beam for cover.

“It’s her,” said Ana, turning her head to see a figure in the shadows grappling across the upper walkways of the factory.

“Reaper can’t be far,” said Jack. Widowmaker was moving, already trying to circumvent their cover. “Go!” he said to Ana, “Get a vantage point! I’ll cover you!” Ana nodded and ran off as Jack fired his pulse rifle in the direction of Widowmaker.

---

Tracer was sprinting forward, pulse pistols in hand, when she reached the large open doors of the factory and heard the automatic fire. She blinked forward and dodged off into a room that had several screens displaying the various statuses of the machinery on the svyatogor assembly lines, then peeked out of the doorway slightly. Tracer barely made out the faint red glow of Widowmaker’s recon visor before she had to pull her head back in as sniper fire blazed past it.

“Oi, Doc,” Tracer brought her hand up to her ear, “There’s no ‘Shrike’ here, but we’ve definitely got trouble.”

“We’ll be there as soon as---” Mercy started.

“That’s a negative,” said Tracer, “We’ve got a sniper. Widowmaker.”

“Talon?” repeated Mercy.

“She’s the only one I’ve seen so far,” said Tracer, “She was more or less working alone back in King’s Row, but keep an eye on the skies. She’ll probably have a pickup coming.”

“Understood,” said Mercy, clicking out of the comm.

“Of course it’s you again,” said Tracer with a frustrated sigh as she gave a glance up to Widowmaker, “All right then,” she furrowed her brow and spun her pulse pistols on her fingers, “Rematch.”

---

“Shut it off,” said Reaper, as Sombra rapidly tapped through numerous screens.

“I’m trying,” said Sombra, “The alert isn’t localized to this area of the factory. We should be fine as long as we don’t—”

The lighting of the room suddenly shifted to red and Sombra looked over her shoulder at Reaper, who was holding the Omnicell.

“Are you kidding me?!” said Sombra, opening up a new screen to stop the lockdown procedures but the doors were closing rapidly.

“Apagando los luces!” Sombra shouted and an EMP burst off of her spinal implant. The lights shut off, the doors froze, shaking in their place with currents of electricity running over them. The alarms in the room went silent, though the other alarms could still be heard in the distance of the rest of the factory. Reaper grunted, his own nanites almost disrupted by the pulse, “I could have hacked it if you gave me the time!” snapped Sombra.

Reaper tossed her the Omnicell. “We don’t have the time,” said Reaper.

She glanced down at the Omnicell in her hands and noticed it was completely unaffected by her EMP. “Woah…” she said quietly.

“Don’t get distracted,” said Reaper, grabbing her by the back of her coat’s collar and hoisting her off her feet.

“What—” Sombra started but Reaper all-too-easily tossed her through the doors. She stumbled but didn’t lose her footing.

“Gabe—!” she called after him as her EMP finally wore off and the doors started closing again, but Reaper turned to smoke and slipped through the narrow gap, the doors closing behind him. Sombra huffed. “I have a translocator, you know,” she said, angrily straightening her jacket as she looked at the omnicell.

“You’re going to use your thermoptic cloaking to take that to the roof for pickup. Widow and I will be rendezvousing with you shortly.” He motioned to the three silent Talon guards and picked one out from the group. “You, go back up Widowmaker,” he picked out another, “You. With me. Watch my back. Stay out of my way,” he picked out the final one and motioned to Sombra, You. Make sure she gets to the roof.”

“I can take care of myself,” said Sombra.

“We can do without you going off-mission this time,” said Reaper.

“Where are you going?” said Sombra.

Reaper cocked one of his guns. “Hunting,” he replied.

---

Circumventing the main entrance of the factory took a while, and involved running across one of the barges on the nearby river to one of the fire exits, which Zarya scanned a key card to enter. Zarya, opened the door, which lead down a dark stair. “You wanted an entryway into the factory that would give you coverage from a sniper,” said Zarya, “These maintenance tunnels can take you anywhere in the factory,” she paused, “You have fought with Talon often?”

“We’ve had... brushes,” said Mercy as they headed down the stairs into the dimly lit tunnels, lined by tubes of electrical cables and coolants. It was almost claustrophobic, the three of them forced into single file with Zarya leading, Genji following shortly behind her, and Mercy bringing up the rear. “Smaller scale operations that we were able to shut down, but not much that gives us a lot of information on their movements.”

Zarya huffed. “We have held off an attack from them before. I did not think they would be stupid enough to try the same thing twice, particularly considering Katya Volskaya is not here right now.”

“You were brought in after that attack, were you not?” said Genji, as Zarya scanned her key card through a checkpoint

“I was informed that there were threats to Volskaya industries beyond the Omnium. If Volskaya Industries falls, my soldiers have no Mechs to back them up in their fight and Russia’s cities will be left virtually defenseless against an omnic air raid. Russian forces are the only thing keeping whatever woke up the Siberian Omnium from spreading to the other Omniums across the continent. I do not see what Talon means to gain from such destruction.”

“Many people stand to profit from war,” said Genji, remembering his own clan using the confusion of the Omnic crisis to take out rivals and further its own power. He paused. “Perhaps if Russia was willing to work with peaceful omnics, there might be a way to---”

“‘Peaceful’ Omnics?” Zarya repeated the word incredulously.

“They exist,” said Genji, “The Shambali believe---”

“Machines do not ‘believe,’” said Zarya, “Machines adapt. If their continued existence is dependent on the humans’ belief that they are peaceful, then they will say they are peaceful, but one needs only look at the Siberian front to see what Omnics are really built to do.”

Genji’s heat sinks steamed and he moved to speak when Mercy spoke up.

“We’re getting off-topic,” said Mercy, desperately trying to quell the rising tension between the two of them, “Our focus here is Talon.”

“Agreed,” said Zarya, stepping toward a set of elevator doors at the end of the hall. She scanned a key card and hit a button, “After you, Doctor Ziegler.” said Zarya.

Genji folded his arms a bit sullenly, trying to remember what Zenyatta had told him about keeping his anger in check. He felt Mercy’s hand on his shoulder as she walked past him into the elevator. He sighed.

---

“Open this door, Sombra. Hack the Svyatogor, Sombra. Stop hacking the Svyatogor and open this door, Sombra. We’re not shopping, Sombra. Take the glowy priceless omnic thing to the roof, Sombra. Sombra--the door,” Sombra imitated Reaper’s guttural snarl as she tapped through several screens featuring security footage from around the factory while walking along one of the upper walkways next to her escort Talon agent.

“Reaper’s orders were to---” the Talon agent started but Sombra shot him a sharp sidelong glance with a slight tug at the corner of her mouth that said, ‘Please, by all means, tell me what to do and see where that takes you’ and the agent quickly shut up.

“Someone needs to be prepared for when all his ‘careful planning’ doesn’t pan out,” Sombra did finger-quotes around the words ‘careful planning’, the footage feeds on her screens changing with the twitch of her finger quotes. She glanced back at her screen, saw Genji, Mercy, and Zarya all in an elevator together and blinked a few times, “Oh so there you are,” she said, her eyes widening, “But where’s the cavalry...?” she glanced over at another screen and saw a bright streak break across the video feed. She shifted the camera on the factory floor and caught sight of Widowmaker grappling through the air, “Ah. Well, my Araña has it handled,” she glanced back at the screen that featured Genji, Zarya, and Mercy, “You however, might be a problem.”

“Maybe drop the elevator?” said the Talon agent behind her, “Take care of all of them?”

Sombra gave him a look that was half-amused, half-pitying.

“Can... can you do that?” said the Talon agent feeling more than a little vulnerable by the way she looked at him.

“Elevator emergency stops are analog,” she said turning her attention back to the screens, “I’d need to hit the elevator with an EMP to properly drop it, but then I’d have to be on top of the elevator and---I don’t know why I’m explaining this to you. You’re not worth it,” she turned her attention back to the screen, “No, all it takes is timing and we can divide and conquer. Though, when the time comes, I’ll need you to do something for me.” She glanced over at one of the unoccupied construction mechs used for putting Svyatogor plating on on the assembly line.

---

The three of them were awkwardly silent in the elevator. Mercy rolled her grip on her caduceus staff, looking between Zarya and Genji.

“I’ll take point,” said Genji as the elevator moved up.

“I’ll take point,” said Zarya, folding her arms.

“I’m faster,” said Genji.

“I have particle barriers and I know the factory,” said Zarya.

“I’m sure you’re both very competent, it doesn’t really matter who takes point,” Mercy said with some clear exhaustion in her voice.

“Yes it does,” Genji and Zarya said at the same time. Mercy rubbed at her temple with the fingertips of her free hand, trying to keep a headache from emerging. The biofeed of her halo was sending her a steady feed of Genji’s, and now Zarya’s vitals. Heart rates were elevating---they were on each other’s nerves, that much was obvious. She sighed and brought her hand to her ear. She hoped Tracer was handling the sniper all right while they were taking this route.

“Tracer, what’s your status?” she spoke into the comm.

“Still---” Tracer’s end of the comm filled with static, “--nned down,” static cut across the audio again, “Going to try---- see if----”

“You’re cutting out,” said Mercy and she glanced up at Genji, “Genji, try and hail Tracer on your comm.”

Genji brought his hand up to the side of his helmet, waited for a few seconds, then shook his head. “Only static,” he said. Zarya’s eyes widened and she activated her own comm, speaking Russian into it before she frowned. “It must be Talon interference,” she said, “We should move quickly.

The elevator chimed and came to a stop. Both Genji and Zarya quickly stepped out, who was taking point was still not established, but Mercy hung back for a brief second, trying to adjust her biofeed halo to bring up Tracer’s current status when she heard a distorted dial-up like sound. She glanced over at the display of what floor the elevator had brought them to, and saw not the number of the floor, but rather a purple skull icon.

“Genji,” she spoke, and Genji stopped and looked over his shoulder at her. Mercy moved to step out of the elevator, “What was it you said about a skull ico--” the doors of the elevator suddenly slammed shut on her before she could exit. Genji was at the elevator door in a heartbeat.

“Doctor Ziegler?!” he said in alarm.

“I didn’t do that! It’s not opening!” said Mercy, from the sound of it apparently trying to get the doors open from the other side.

“Hold on!” Genji braced one foot on the doorway and tried to pry the door open, but couldn’t get a proper grip on the doors.

“Genji---there was a skull icon---didn’t you say---?” Mercy started from the other side of the door.

“Just hang on, we can---” Genji looked over his shoulder at Zarya, “Can you override it?” Zarya tossed him her keycard and Genji quickly swiped it through a slot at the side of the door. Nothing happened.

“There’s a manual override several floors up,” said Zarya, “We can probably reset the system, knock whoever’s controlling it out of the system for a few seconds to get her ou---”

There was a series of loud mechanical clanks overhead and Zarya looked up. “Move,” said Zarya.

Genji was still prying at the door. “What?” he said.

“Move!” Zarya shouted.

Genji looked up and then scrambled out of the way as a large construction mech dropped down from one of the upper assembly lines. They only had a second to see a Talon agent at the controls of it.

“How did they---?” Zarya started but with one swipe of a massive mechanical arm, she was knocked hard off to the side and slammed hard into a wall.

“Miss Zaryanova!” Genji blurted out, but then the mech advanced on him. He drew his wakizashi and with a flick of his wrist had three shuriken at the ready. He stepped back slightly, but then found himself practically with his back to the elevator doors. He could hear Mercy clanging around inside. This really wasn’t a fight he wanted to get into without a medic. He moved to spring into an attack against the mech when suddenly a pink blast hit it from the side, the force of it sending the mech sliding across the floor, sparks flying under its steel treads as it did so. Genji looked over to see a heavily bruised Zarya, holding her particle cannon at the ready. Zarya spat out some blood and hoisted up her particle cannon. “Get to the factory overrides,” she said to Genji, “Get Doctor Ziegler out of that elevator. I will show our guest what happens when you steal a Russian mech.”

“But---” Genji started.

The mech fired a large molten bolt as big as Genji’s forearm at Zarya, who encased herself in particle barrier from her gun. The core of the particle cannon brightened as the bolt dissolved against Zarya’s barrier. “The room at the intersections of walkways P and 12! Bypass code: ‘7714!’ Go!” she shouted over the roar of her cannon as its beam barreled into the Mech.

Genji gave one final glance to the elevator door before dodging off to the side of the mech and racing past it, scrambling up a nearby wall and rebounding off of it, grabbing the edge of one of the upper walkways and pulling himself up onto it. He gave one final glance below at Zarya shouting, “Come on!” and charging the mech, particle barrier blazing before he raced off down the upper walkway.

---

Widowmaker reached the second walkway and turned on her heel, her ponytail whipping around her in the drafty factory as she switched her rifle to automatic and fired on them when she saw that familiar blue streak out of the corner of her eye. The shrike had already broken off from the soldier. Fine, she could deal with the Shrike later. Only now the annoyance and the soldier were here, but as to whether they were working together, she could not be sure. She turned and saw a lick of dark hair poking out from behind a doorway, and fired on it. A warning shot more than anything.

“Patience,” she said, though she knew Tracer was far out of hearing range, “I’ll deal with you soon enou---” she turned to fix her scope back on the soldier when she saw several helix rockets hurtling towards her. She grappled to a moving platform, laying down suppressing automatic fire as she went, the rockets exploding behind her. As soon as she reached the moving platform, she dropped down to one knee and looked through her scope at the soldier. She fixed the crosshairs on his head. “One shot--” she started.

“Oh no you don’t!” there was a flurry of pulsefire sparking along Widowmaker’s platform, and she looked up to see Tracer charging toward her in a blue flash from one of the upper walkways of the factory. Tracer leapt down from above, pistols blazing. Widowmaker turned her sights on her. Widowmaker fired on her and Tracer recalled and disappeared to dodge the bullet. Within that heartbeat of Tracer’s disappearance, Widowmaker fired a venom mine at her own feet. Tracer reappeared, still mid-fall as Widowmaker grappled away to another walkway. Tracer’s eyes widened as the venom mine detonated when she was only a few feet above the platform, spraying her with a noxious vapor.

“I see you’re finding new ways to make the same mistakes, cherie,” said Widowmaker as she took her position on the walkway. She would have had Tracer in her sights again if the soldier hadn’t fired another spray of pulsefire at her.

Tracer coughed heavily, her carefully calculated leap turning into a tumble as she fell, bounced painfully off of the platform, and landed on the ground. She grunted but then found herself coughing and gasping for breath again when something seized her by the arm and dragged her under the awning of the walkway. She heard gunfire. She would have fired on whoever grabbed her if it weren’t for her own struggle to stay conscious amidst the poison of the venom mine.

---

Don’t get involved, Jack had told himself, They can take care of themselves. But now he was here, and he and Tracer only had seconds before Widowmaker repositioned and got them in her scope again. Tracer was gasping and coughing on the ground next to him and he set down a biotic field. Tracer’s coughing slowed slightly as the biotics healed her.

“Breathe slow, get stabilized,” he said to her, activating his tactical visor, “I’ve got your back.

Tracer coughed as Jack’s tactical visor searched the environment before honing in on its target. Widowmaker was in the midst of using her grapple to get to that new vantage point. He thought he would have that split second as he squeezed the trigger on her as she zipped through the air, but then, in mid-air, her rifle clicked back into sniper mode and he realized she already had an angle on him. He was struggling to get back down when the sniper fire cracked past the face covering on his visor. He fired his helix rockets to force Widowmaker to change position again, and because his tactical visor was no longer doing him any good with its internal circuits destroyed. HIs sight was briefly obscured by a multitude of warnings in various languages flashing all around the periphery of his vision. He yanked off the visor, then realized his face was wet. He wiped at it and glanced at his hand, seeing the wetness on his face was in fact blood. He felt at his face, found that the damage to the face covering of his visor had managed to leave a gash on his cheek. He dropped down into the glowing golden circle of the biotic field. He was feeling the wound on his cheek close up and keeping an eye out for Widowmaker when he heard Tracer speak up behind him.

“...Commander?” she said. He froze.

---

Part 3 is Here

[embrace-tranquility]

Rough touch

Send ‘rough touch’ | no longer accepting.

27. Your muse delivers beatings to mine.

The punch sent him staggering backwards, no longer being able to hover and having to put his feet on the ground to deal with the sudden hit to his face. He was pretty sure it was dented, or that there was a crack in it, because part of his HUD had stopped working.

He took another few steps backwards as Zarya was walking towards him, with a look in her eyes that could kill. He held his hands up in defence, not wanting to be hit again. 

“Please, cease this. It is me, Zenyatta!” The team was in Numbani, when suddenly some form of EMP had gone off, making the local omnics that had stood within range of the EMP go haywire and attack locals. Zenyatta had just been out of the range of the EMP, but he understood the distrust within Zarya towards him now. “I am still okay, no need to harm me!”

[waifuholic]

D.Va from Overwatch

Our next waifu on the list is another gorgeous lady from Overwatch,

D.Va

Pro Gamer, Pro MEKA pilot and Pro Waifu, D.Va is a package of fun, want to share a bag of chips and a few sodas while playing your favorite video game? she can do that! want to go out and engage in combat against hordes of haywire omnics while chewing bubblegum?, she can do that! inside or outside home, D.Va is never boring, all hail The Bunny Queen!

https://www.patreon.com/Waifuholic

[sjwwidowmaker]

To be fair, saying Zarya 'is a caring, loving person who has mistrust for omnics due to her trauma' kinda romanticize her strong negative trait of resentment and borderline hate towards omnics and that's sorta problematic. i'm not saying she's 'omnic hater who smashes bots in her free time' but it's just not well phrased by you. Makes it sound like 'she's loving and caring and its trauma and not her fault she simply mistrusts omnics'. don't overlook her negative traits and racism please

the prejudice that omnics face are nothing like racism. in the story, the omnics sorta went haywire and killed millions of ppl. zarya lost her family, she grew up in a war torn town, and she had to throw away her career to serve in another omnic crisis. shes seen dozens of ppl die to omnics n stuff so lik.. shes allowed to be mistrustful of omnics (shes never extremely hateful like junkrat) and while her treatment of genji is a little.. yikes the treatment the omnics face isnt comparable to racism cause omnics mass murdered a bunch of ppl and destroyed countries and cities n stuff

[manganeko96]

SymmRat Week 2017 Day 1: The First Junkrat entered the workshop, intending to work on some modifications to his grenades. He dropped his materials on a nearby table, spotting another person in the workshop. "I would appreciate it if you allowed me to continue to work in silence," she stated. "Course. Doesn't bother me a bit." She sighed. "That's not what I meant and you know it, Mr. Fawkes." "Shit, mate, what you so uptight for?" She whipped around to face him. "I'm not your 'mate.' My name is Symmetra." "And I'm Junkrat. Haven't been 'Mr. Fawkes' in my lifetime." Symmetra gathers her materials and marches to the door. "I see I will not be able to finish anything in the presence of a walking disaster." She leaves in a huff. "Well damn. Guess she couldn't handle the heat," he snickered. The next time he spoke to her, they were on their way back from mission. The team had certainly seen better days. The fucking omnic scrap heap went and got himself hacked. It ended up going haywire on half of the Overwatch team. "And she calls me a walking disaster," Junkrat snarked. He heard some muffled chuckles and looked up. Symmetra had one hand covering her mouth, but he could see the hint of a smile. Hooley Dooley, it was quite the sight. It was the first time he'd seen her smile since she joined, and he was determined to see it again.