move, rip, repeat

chapter one - you really shouldn't sneeze

Frowning, he continued sorting through what he could remembered. Rubble of an 'overwatch' building? Whatever that meant. What kind of building? A warehouse, yeah. Hundreds of clicks away from the civilization? Huh. So old guy was someone from the military. And what was Emil doing so far away from—wait. Wait, wait, wait. Hold on, wait.

Did he just say Overwatch?

Emil blinked once, twice. The fog that had been heavy on his brain had started to lift a little earlier, but now was mostly gone. He was able to think relatively clearly and he re-inspected his two captors.

"What the actual fuck."

Both heads snapped back towards him, the elder man's forehead crinkled, the only indicator of his annoyance, while the other's eyes narrowed in disapproval, most likely at the choice of words. It seemed as though the doctor stayed true to the position of team mother.

There was a silence and Emil took that to his advantage to rearrange his thoughts before he blurted out anything more. Standing in front of him seemed to be two people that should be impossible to meet.

John 'Jack' Morrison, fifty-something years old, from the great state of Indiana. Call sign is Soldier: 76, an offense hero. Also happens to be the former Golden Boy of Overwatch that everyone had believed was dead after the explosion in Switzerland.

And let's not forget the literal Angel of them all, Doctor Angela Ziegler, thirty-seven, from Switzerland. Call sign is Mercy, a support hero. She could literally and figuratively touch your soul with her pureness.

Emil let out a sigh and rubbed his eyes, slightly irritated by the amount of things sticking in his arms. If you were going to throw someone into an alternate universe, for god's sake, put them in a damn universe where there aren't any highly dangerous fights to save the world. Ya know, one that would allow room for no dying, no fatalities maybe? Anything probably would have been better than this.

Soldier: 76 approached him with a mildly anxious Mercy tailing him.

"Who are you? Who do you work for? Who sent you?" 76 barks, his voice somehow getting even more hostile than it was before.

Rubbing his eyes again, he ignored the questions and hesitantly pushed himself up to a sitting position. These wires and tubing were really starting to piss him off. His hand curled around one of the tubes and pulled it out.

"W-What are you doing?!" Mercy lept forward, chilly hands closing around Emils. She began to look over where he had yanked it out. "You were severely injured and I could not heal you . . . "

Jaw falling slack, she had a look of wild bewilderment on her face. A moment later, she seemed to shake herself out of whatever that was and flipped over his arm, tugging out all the stuff sticking in him, causing some discomfort. Little pinpricks of blood were left where she pulled out something, but it was much better than the having it stuck in his skin. After finishing off his left arm, she leaned over and inspected his right, still having that dumbfounded look on her face.

What was making Mercy going slack jawed?

76 seemed to be having the same thoughts as him, as the elder man questioned it. "Is something wrong?"

She pulled out the last wire, leaving the IV, before turning to answer. "It seems to me that her wounds have healed. All of them."

There was a jolt, a tiny one, but visible enough from the soldier.

How bad had Emil's injuries been?

How badly had it been that both Mercy and Soldier: 76 been shocked at his recovery rate? Emil wasn't exactly what you would call sturdy nor fast healing. He was good at recovering from fatigue and the like, but physical injury was something that was harsh on him. Judging by the silence from 76, this was not looking good for him. Staring down at his now bespeckled arms, he could barely think it through. How?

"Who are you?" he spat out again, as Mercy took away the tubes and wiring. "Who do you work for?"

Honest to god, Emil sort of understood Reaper's viewpoint on the man now. 76 sounded like a broken record—one that was armed with knives and a bazooka. Stretching out one arm, he knew he had to answer soon. Emil bit his lip, considering his options. There were basically only two here: a, he could spill everything and possibly end up being tortured because they might think he's lying or b, he could be careful about what words he chose and cut down that chance.

Moving on to the other arm, he hoped his voice would stay steady. "Emil Kim. Don't work for anyone. But I do have a question: what the hell happened to me?"

Nervous, he readjusted how he was sitting in order to focus his attention elsewhere other than his anxiety-inducing thoughts. He desperately tried to ignore the fact that the two heroes standing in front of him were having an obvious mental conversation. And it didn't take long until words were being pushed out of his mouth without much thought.

"I mean, when I woke up it felt like I got hit by a truck, but now it's more like a tingle? I don't really understand how to explain it. Anyhow, what the hell happened? I mean, I guess I was injured pretty bad considering how much stuff you had sticking in me—"

"Shut it," 76 snapped.

The next thing that came out of his mouth could easily be blamed on nerves. "Well goddamn, grandpa," he spit, bitterness pouring out of every pore, "why don't you get off your rickety, wrinkled ass and shut it for me."

Kinky was the first thing that came to his mind, before the reality of the situation really set in. He had just sass talked John 'Jack' Morrison who would have no qualms about tearing his head off. Or blowing it off for that matter.

He gulped. Tense silence. Mercy held a face of shock while Morrison stared on, seemingly emotionless from what he could make out his visor. But Emil knew otherwise. He had really fucked up.

"I'm throwing her in a cell," he replied, steadily, voice void from any emotion.

Emil's eyes widened. He really had fucked up... dude, he had just pissed off Soldier fucking 76. "Hey! W-Wait a minute—"

He was cut off as the veteran yanked him out of the bed, ripping the IV out of him. Mercy looked on concerned, but made no move to stop him. While Morrison's grip was rather painful, the situation itself was honestly hilarious if you took a step back. Dear old Dad here was annoyed over the fact that Emil, a seventeen year old, had just pulled a fast one on him. He wondered if he would live to tell the tale.

[ SHOUTOUT TO MY BABE KASUMIAFKGOD FROM TUMBLR FOR BETAING THIS!! sorry it took so long to come out, ive been busy and such.

also, you can find this on my ao3 & tumblr!!

- matt