Amnesia Plot

[riptire]

Junkrat and Roadhog have gotten overconfident, of late. When you've nicked the crown jewels of Great Britain and blown up an office complex in the middle of downtown Sydney, what can't you do? Why even believe in limits?

But luck does run out eventually. And there are corporations with secrets far more valuable than ceremonial relics, and far more dangerous than anything Hyde was hiding. Junkrat realizes far too late that they've met their match with these Vishkar nasties, as he watches Roadhog being dragged effortlessly away by the sleekest, highest-tech cop bots he's ever seen. He's powerless to stop them, but that doesn't mean he won't damn near die trying, giving chase and firing grenades indiscriminately left and right.

He hears a distinct hissing noise nearby as shrapnel punctures a tank, pays it no mind at all as he screams for his partner and hears no reply. He's still shooting as his vision begins to dim, pulling the trigger again and again on his empty grenade launcher as he slumps to the floor, and only when everything goes black does he finally fall silent.

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[synaesthesia_auditiva]

Though not afilliated with Overwatch in any official capacity, Lucio gladly lended a hand to the operatives in any way he could. His international tour helped to serve another purpose aside from promoting his new album: gathering intel and observing any signs of any new 'hot spots' for dangerous activity.

His most recent stop on tour brought him to Mexico, in a city that was not too far from Dorado. Comparatively to the aforementioned city, it was a relatively peaceful place, but there had been mounting questionable activity in the vicinity over the past few months. Buildings had been quietly built in previously desolated plots of land on the outskirts of town, under the guise of research and development for drugs and technology intended for therapy. Supposedly.

It seemed innocuous enough at first glance, but there was a quiet underhandedness to it that left room for suspicion.

So that was where Lucio came in. Or, well, he was supposed to. Stealth ops were not exactly his forte, but he'd intended to find out what he could about the on-goings out in the desert and pass any information onto Overwatch. That plan blew up in his face, quite literally, when an explosion happened at the site of the facility.

Now here he was, in the dead of the night, trying to scavenge what he could from the wreckage; forgotten wounded and survivors were his main concern before information, but it seemed that the facility had been largely staffed by robots of the non-omnic variety. He was at least thankful that any living, or otherwise sentient, staff had apparently not been around at the time.

The damage to the building was severe, signs of multiple explosions all around. He wasn't an explosions or ballistics expert by any means, but something about the scattered shrapnel seemed misplaced. Like it wasn't just from the strange tanks that had burst, but something else? Had this not been an accident...?

A disturbing new discovery tore him from his thoughts: a human hand protruding from beneath some rubble. Oh no... had there been a worker left behind? Lucio sped over to pull away the debris, hoping that there was at least a whole person attached to that hand.

His hurried digging revealed the soot covered body of a man. He was lanky and... not quite in one piece, but whatever was missing he'd clearly lost a long time ago. More importantly, he wasn't dead; he was very much unconscious, but still breathing. Relieved, Lucio let out a breath he wasn't aware he'd been holding. He had no idea who this guy was or how he was related to what had happened here (he didn't look like a worker), but he definitely wasn't about to leave him here. Moving him was a little difficult considering the height difference between them, but he was at least light enough for him to carry away.

Lucio would then bring this stranger back into town to the loft he was staying in, leaving him to rest on the upstairs bed with some low music to help speed up his recovery.


[Sorry it took me so long to reply! If I need to change anything, lemme know. I can switch to present tense after this if you prefer, this was just easier to write in past. :)]

[riptire]

Junkrat isn't a stranger to waking up in unexpected places without being quite sure how he got there. Sometimes, on rare lucky occasions, those places are hospitals. He's so used to winding up in situations that necessitate advanced medical attention that he barely even takes notice of them anymore.

If he were aware of any of that right now, it would be comforting. He could reassure himself that Roadhog would come find him, or else that he could go rescue the big lug, and he'd borrow the pig mask for a bit to help patch up his cuts and bruises like he always does, and they'd be off on their next adventure without further ado.

But he doesn't remember who Roadhog is. He doesn't know that the arm and leg he so carefully crafted for himself are still back on that factory floor, buried under debris. He isn't aware that this unfamiliar loft is the fanciest place he's ever set foot in without intending to commit armed robbery. He doesn't know enough to be impressed by it, or uncomfortable, or any other feeling a gorgeous living space like this might inspire in a Junker. He doesn't remember hearing this song on the radio last week and dancing along to it in the sidecar of Roadhog's bike. He doesn't know a damn thing about what's going on, and the only thing that's registering is visceral panic.

He throws the covers back, acting on that primal urge to escape, moves to get out of bed, and promptly winds up on the floor with a crash and a yelp as he tries to put weight on a leg that isn't there. Why isn't it there? Why does he only have the one?

[synaesthesia_auditiva]

Lucio was downstairs in the small kitchen, standing in front of the stove and stirring something in a small pot, when he heard a thud and a yelp from upstairs. "Wait, wait, wait! Hold on!" he called out in alarm, not wanting his 'guest' to hurt himself further. Quickly, he turned the heat off the range before rushing to make his way up the stairs.

Once he saw the frightened man on the floor, Lucio knelt down to help him. "Hey, it's okay. You're safe here, I'm not gonna hurt you," he spoke to him gently, making sure his hands were in clear view to make it obvious that he wasn't a threat before he carefully moved closer to him. "I'm gonna help you back up onto the bed now. Just take it easy," he continued, then slipped his arm around the other's body to support him while they both rose to their feet.

[riptire]

Junkrat flails briefly at Lucio with the arm he still has, staring at him with slightly unfocused eyes. The gas has worn off, but he's at a complete loss for how to relate to this person trying to touch him, when he doesn't know--anything. He can't contribute the expected half of this conversation when there's nothing in his mind to offer.

He can't immediately process Lucio's words, but gradually, they filter through to his mind, and he relaxes minutely. He understands them. They're in a recognizable language.

"Yeah," he says numbly, his voice unconsciously adapting, echoing Lucio's accent, supplanting the Australian one he doesn't remember. "Okay."

He should have another arm, too. He feels unbalanced, in a way he hasn't felt in years.

"Where's--where's my leg?" That feels like the more important question.

[synaesthesia_auditiva]

Once he helped Junkrat to sit on the edge of the bed, Lucio sat beside him and watched as he seemed to be taking the situation in slowly. His confusion was understandable, but it seemed he'd forgotten things prior to whatever had happened at the factory. Lucio's gaze briefly fell to where his leg wasn't -- obviously not for a long time.

He had apparently forgotten things that had happened way prior to last night...

"Sorry," he began to answer, looking up to make eye contact with him now. "I don't know anything about that. I found you last night at a factory just outside of the city. I was actually hoping you could fill me in on some things, but it looks like you've got a lot of questions yourself." He didn't know how much he could answer, but he'd try his best to help him feel at least a little less lost.