Chapter Text
“You need a hospital.”
Junkrat laughed softly, slowly trying to push himself up into a stand, ignoring the pain that seared through his side. They both knew they couldn’t just waltz into a hospital. If he went to the hospital every time he got a knick or scratch here are there, they’d both be in debt and caught by now.
“Nah, I’m alright, mate. Just a scratch, nothing I can’t handle.” He said with a weak grin, managing to find his footing in the wreckage. He stood with no problem for a whole two seconds until he took a step forward. The pain in side was too much to bare, and he took a stumble. Roadhog, always caught playing the role of the exasperated but diligent caretaker was at his side with no delay, scooping him up out of debris and rubble.
“Aye, wait a minute. You don’t have to…”
“You’re bleeding bad, Jamie.”
That wasn’t exactly new. He was always accidentally causing some sort of bodily harm onto himself. Not on purpose, but it’s what comes with running around blowing shit up. This though, the pain he felt was intense. Not near to losing a limb intense, but enough to knock him off his feet and draw the unwanted appearance of tears at the corner of his eyes. Junkrat looked down at his torso. There was bullet lodged in his side, and the wound was bleeding profusely, painting his whole side in blood that stained his pale skin.
“Hooly Dooly would you look at that?” He laughed. His voice was weak, and nearly drowned out by a new round of blaring sirens that drew closer and closer. “Shit.”
“Shut up. Talk later.” Roadhog said gruffly.
“Well alright mate, whateva ya say.” He mumbled, curling up closer to Roadhog’s chest. A trickle of worry spread through Roadhog. His only options were patching Rat up himself, and their makeshift base while they were here, a scrappy one room, was on the far other side of the city. But he had no other choice, than to get a move on.
A drop of water hit the Junker’s arm. He glanced up at the skies. Clouds were moving in above. The skies were trickling with worry as well it seemed.
Flashing lights accompanying sirens from before were drawing closer. The red and blue lights speeding up the street were not flashing bolts of lightning. Cradling Junkrat bridal style against his chest, he took off into a dark alley right as the lights pulled up to the abandoned scene.
Elated after another amazing show, Lucio felt like he was rising on a high. The crowd at the club that night were really into the sound, tearing up the dance floor. It hyped Lucio up, and the more energetic the crowd, the better Lucio performed. That energy still filled the building, buzzing through to his fingertips even though the show ended almost half an hour before. All that was left was to pack up for the night, and head out. He was supposed to meet his friend, Hana at her hotel room to wind down and chill after the show. She was only in town for a few weeks, so they wanted to spend as much time together as possible. He made a promise that he would walk through her hotel door with a bottle of cachaça and lime in forty five minutes, so he was working quick with his crew to clean up the set and gather his equipment.
As if telepathically linked, and the very thought of her summoned Hana herself his phone buzzed in his back pocket, loudly playing a snippet of Hana’s favorite song he wrote as his ringtone for her. He glance up at Andre, one of his sound guys, pointed to his phone and walked out the back door of the club.
He shivered as soon as he stepped out. It was drizzling, but it wasn’t a bad enough stream to go back sprinting into the club. The worst part was the humidity that would come after, and ruin his hair.
“Hey Song! What up, girl?” The high, excited voice on the other end drew a grin across his lips. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder as she prattled on. With practiced skill, he managed not to drop it while he untied the jacket around his waist, used it as a makeshift umbrella.
“Yeah, we’re almost done.” He reassured her, pacing slowly in the dark alley, only lit by the dim streetlights on the other side of the road. They talked for a minute or two, mostly Hana telling him how great he had been on stage, and how mesmerized the crowd was to his music.
He laughed it off, almost sounding embarrassed. He loved what his music did for people, but he didn’t see himself as anything special. He just wanted to bring people together.
“Thanks angel. Yo, I gotta go though. When we’re through here, I’ll hit you up and let you know I’m on my way.”
He hung up the call, but before he could even shove the phone back into his pants pocket, something unexpectedly rammed into him from behind, throwing him to the cold concrete ground. His phone flew out of his hands, and hit the pavement with a loud thud and sickening crack.
“What the fuck…” He groaned, pushing himself to his hands and knees. He wasn’t hurt, save for a few scrapes on his hands and legs. Whatever hit him, almost completely blocked out the streetlight, encasing him in shadow. “What the fresh hell was..” Lucio mumbled as he rose to his feet. He hoped it wasn’t another overly eager fan. His fans were his lifeblood, but there were a few lately that didn’t seem to understand the importance of personal space. He swiped off the gravel from his scratched knees, a little irritated that whoever just shoved him to the ground neither apologized or try to help him up. You would think someone would have some sort of common decency. They definitely weren’t getting an autograph.
He turned around to face the culprit, maybe give them a talking to, only to come face to face with two barrels aimed at his head. That wasn’t the most terrifying part. The man accompanying the gun looked like he would crush him with a finger, no gun needed. He was easily a good two feet taller than Lucio, which would have put him at around seven feet. The piglike mask strapped across his face also did nothing to comfort Lucio. He was cradling another man in his arms, curled up against his chest. The man looked extremely pale in the light of the moon, and was unmoving.
Usually so quick on his feet, Lucio was frozen in place, fear gripping him to the spot where he stood.
“Easy…” He said gently, eyeing the blood on the man’s skin. He couldn’t tell if it was his in the darkness, or the man’s he held in his arms. Lucio had a numbing feeling that it the later or neither.
“Is your friend there alright? Does he need help?” Lucio asked putting two and two together. The blood. The pathetic groans from the man being cradled like a sick child. Something was very wrong. The realization, sucked the fear out of Lucio, filling him with duty. He took a step forward with the gun still trained on him. With one hand in the air, he extended his other hand out to the pair in a friendly manner.
“I’m not a doctor, but I can help. I can help him. If you let me.”
There was demur in the man’s eyes, wariness of Lucio from a man who didn’t trust anyone other than who he held in his arms, but Lucio had so much more to be nervous about. Perhaps that’s why the man’s eyes softened, and with a soft grunt, knelt down so that Lucio could get a better look at his deathly pale friend.
“He was shot.”
Lucio didn’t ask why. He didn’t want to know. He merely looked the frail looking man over, biting his lip knowing what he had to do. It didn’t look like the bullet passed through any important organs. Lucio could take care of him and keep him breathing until he could get Angela to come take a look at him.
“Alright listen. He really needs to go to a hospital…” Lucio began.
“No hospitals.”
“...I wasn’t finished. But I get it. I don’t have everything we need, but I can keep him breathing until a close friend of mine can take care of him. We have to go now though. I’ll talk you guys back to my place and patch him up.” From their side, Lucio’s phone rang loudly, filling the small alleyway with Lucio’s bumping beats, distinct to the current disposition of the situation they were in. Lucio kneeled down to pick it up.
Hugo Silva
His manager.
“Shit.” He hissed. The rest of his crew were probably looking for him. He disappeared far too long for a phone call, even with Hana who could be difficult to get off the phone with. It didn’t help that at his last show, a few aggressive fans cornered him, and he was now in talks with Hugo to convince him that he didn’t need a bodyguard 24/7 following him around. He slid his finger across the now cracked screen to reject the call, and then opened it up and sent him a quick text instead.
Something came up. Went home. Sorry. I’m ok tho
He didn’t have time for a drawn out explanation, but he couldn’t have them worrying.. “We have to go now.” Lucio said finally, tucking his phone into his back pocket. “They’re gonna come looking for me if we don’t get out of here, and fuck. I don’t know if I can explain this one.”
Grey eyes narrowed with faint suspicion, but he saw something in the young man he felt he could trust. A kinship of sorts. He couldn’t explain it, and there wasn’t time to sort it out if they were going to help Junkrat. His gun went back into it’s holster.
“Lead the way.”
Lucio smiled. He took a large hand in his, or more so wrapped his hand around a couple of fingers, and led him away as the sound of the back door to the club creaked in warning.
Lucio knew he probably should have insisted on taking him to the hospital, but he also understood having to keep a low profile. He didn’t know who these men were. For all he knew he might wake up the next morning with a knife in his throat, but he couldn’t say no to someone who needed help.
He was able to patch the young man up enough to get him stabilized. Thankfully, the bullet had missed any vital organs, and only pierced the muscle in his side. The primary concern was the risk for infection.
“He’s gonna be okay.” Lucio assured the man hovering over his friend. He gave him a small friendly smile that was answered with a small grunt leaving an awkward silence between them. Lucio attempted to ignore it in favor of looking over his sleeping patient.
He looked younger than he would have previously guessed now that Lucio and Roadhog wiped the outer layer of grime and blood off his body. Much younger than his companion. Maybe even younger than Lucio himself. Though the receding hairline made it hard to believe, there was something youthful about his face at rest.
“He seems pretty resilient.” Lucio commented.
“Pretty stupid for getting himself hurt in the first place.”
Lucio didn’t know what to say to that, but thankfully he didn’t have to worry about it. His phone rang in the kitchen, and he suddenly was reminded that soon enough he was going to have a search party on the lookout if he didn’t answer this time.
“I’m gonna go check that. I’ll bring us back something to eat though. You must be starving.” He said as he rose to his feet, and gave Roadhog’s shoulder a gentle squeeze. “Some tea too. You’re still in those wet clothes, and I don’t want you getting sick while your buddy is trying to heal up.” He was halfway to the door before he paused, and looked back. Roadhog’s fingers were gently running over the shape of Junkrat’s lips, bringing a question clouding over Lucio’s head over the nature of their relationship.
It was that that made him remember that he retained no knowledge of who these men where, besides for the injured one being named Jamie. Or at least that’s what the other man called him.
“Hey, you know. I didn’t get your name. And you’re probably wondering who the hell I am too. My name’s Lucio’s.”
“Roadhog.”
“Roadhog? That’s your name?” Lucio took his silence for offense. Offending him was that last thing he intended. “Sorry. Alright. Sounds good, Roadhog. I’ll be right back, man.”
He darted out of his room, and made his way to his kitchen. You’d think superstardom would grant you the luxury of having cabinets that you could actually reach all the shelves, and yet there Lucio was on his toes, half climbing onto the counter to reach his kettle. Almost knocking it off made him wonder why he put it up there in the first place.
He started the water, and then picked up his phone off the counter with ten missed calls and twenty text messages. The majority were from Hana. He needed to call her back, or else he was going to hear knocking at his door very soon, and he still wasn’t sure how he was going to explain this one. There were also a few calls and a text from his manager, and a text from Angela Ziegler. He sent her a text the moment Roadhog agreed to come back with him, and then called her quickly once he reached his apartment. She couldn’t get to him in the night, but would be there at her earliest chance in the morning.
She would probably scold him for not getting him professional help sooner, but he knew she would understand. He’s experienced a few incidents of his own being a revolutionary of sorts, the territory wasn’t all that new.
He sent a message to his agent first, walking into his living room. The tv was already on, soft background noise as he plopped on the couch and sank into the pillowy cushions. He hadn’t realize how tired he was until his ass touch the cool leather. It made sense, going from keeping a crowd alive and energized with tunes to trying to keep a man quite literally alive in one night.
Next he dialed Hana.. As he hit the call button, a brief glimpse of something on the tv screen caught his eye. Two familiar faces. Or more so a black hog-like mask, and a recently acquainted face.
“Fuck…” He whispered, quickly turning the tv off as if he shutting it off it would suddenly erase the fact that he welcomed two wanted criminals into his bedroom.