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“Oh, Torbjorn,” McCree said. “Give me your hot turrets.”
“Turrets are sexy,” Torbjorn replied. “They’re my fetish.”
Torbjorn turned his hot, saucy turrets on the enemy healer. “No Mercy for you,” he drawled.
Roadhog groaned as Junkrat heated things up. “Junk, baby,” he oinked. “Bounce those the other direction.”
Junkrat realized he was firing his bombs at his own team.
“Why do they call you Daddy?” D.Va asked, as Soldier: 76 slipped off his leather jacket. Daddy: 76 choked and pointedly did not look at anyone.
“My god.” Zarya flinched. “Your hands. They are like ice.”
Mei grinned. “You need to chill out.”
“Hey Jack!” Tracer squeaked. “What does Reaper say during sex?”
Jack flinched and tried not to blush. “I don’t know. What?”
Bastion plopped himself down directly on top of the moving vehicle. “Beep boop,” he assured. The payload shuddered and began to move.
Five minutes later, it cleared a checkpoint.
Symmetra straightened the joysticks on D.Va’s mech. “Keep it up. It’s all according to plan.”
D.Va smiled back. “LOL,” she said, inexplicably.
“I’m taking the point,” Reinhardt yelled over the comms.
“You should ask it to dinner first,” Ana replied.
Bastion whipped his turret body around to face the oncoming threat. The rushing mech stopped and, if it was possible, stared.
“Boop?” Bastion inquired.
“NERF THIS,” the mech replied.
Their relationship was short-lived.
Hanzo lined up a shot over the oncoming payload. “Ignore all distractions,” he muttered. Widowmaker winked, and shot him in the face.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Tracer snapped as Widowmaker rounded the corner.
“A pretty girl,” Widowmaker replied. Tracer blinked.
“I am lost,” Genji murmured, sighing heavily. “Where should I go?”
Zenyatta pressed one chilled orb to his cheek. “Pass into the iris.”
“It’s high noon,” McCree grumbled, pouring coffee.
“It’s only 11 am,” came a quiet voice from behind him.
McCree turned, nearly spilling his coffee. A sleepy, hair-mussed Soldier 76 stood behind him.
“What do you want?” McCree drawled, one hand dropping to his gun.
“Oh, nothing much,” Soldier 76 replied, reaching around McCree to take a mug of his own. “But I might have you in my sights.”
McCree blushed furiously and spilled coffee all over them both.
Part 1: >Clip
Part 2: >Clip
Pharah smirked at the other five, watching as they squirmed and looked away. “What’s the matter?” she asked, voice teasing.
“Uh… well…” Mei started.
“Don’t worry,” Pharah replied, blowing a kiss to a blushing Tracer and Hanzo. “Leave this to a professional.”
“Daddy,” D.Va whined. “The ferris wheel isn’t running!” She stomped her foot. “But I wanted to ride!”
Daddy: 76 glared up at the immobile wheel and fired his helix rockets.
The wheel did not spin. It blew up.
He shrugged. “Tactical necessity.”
Roadhog rounded a corner and ran straight into himself.
“What in the world?”
Junkrat peered at the scene unfolding in front of them. The two Roadhogs had hooked each other.
“Oh, that’s their mating ritual.”
He could distantly hear the sound of Winston retching.
The enemy McCree waved through the base door at McCree.
“Hey,” the other replied.
The door opened, and they didn’t fire.
“Justice ain’t gonna dispense itself,” the enemy McCree said, making a particular hand motion.
“Hm. That’ll do fine.”
“You were always the public face of Overwatch, Jack,” Gabriel growled. “Got your fancy statue and your fancy title, and left me in your goddamn shadow.”
“Gabriel, I didn’t know any of it,” Jack replied, hand tightening on his gun.
“You knew,” Gabriel replied. “You knew what they were doing, and you left me to rot!”
“I swear, you’re my best friend, I–“
“Shut up, Jack.”
“I never meant to–“
“Shut up and die,” Gabriel shrieked, guns appearing from nowhere. “Die. Die!”
Winston stared blankly at the package on his desk.
“What is this?”
“I believe it is a present, Winston.”
“For your birthday.”
Winston carefully opened the box.
“It’s from Athena!” the note said, in Tracer’s handwriting.
It was a dozen jars of peanut butter.
Torbjorn panicked at the sound of incoming fire and beeping.
“My turret is being destroyed!” he shrieked.
But when he reached the turret, it was… being cuddled?
Pharah winced as Mercy tightened the bandage on her arm.
Pharah shook her head. “No. Sore.”
“Don’t worry.” Mercy smiled and kissed her cheek. “I’m taking care of you.”
Jack pulled the trigger. Once. Twice. Three times.Nothing happened.
“Angela, can you. Uh.”
Mercy prodded his gun with her staff and shook her head.
“I’m not a miracle worker. Well. Not always.”
D.Va plopped down on the point, mech and all.
“What are you doing!?” Reinhardt bellowed. “Get up and fight!”
D.Va pulled a bag of Doritos out of… somewhere, as Reinhardt threw up his shield in front of her.
The team ran in circles around the point. They shot people near the point. They fell and died above the point. And the enemy team steamrolled them.
“What did I do?” the point whined. “Was it something I said?”
“Problem, little point?” a local turret asked.
“Oh, not really,” the point replied. “It’s just that I’m desperate, and nobody ever seems to want to get on me.”