Patreon Compilation – Fic#171 – Zenyatta; Reaper; Soldier – no sexytimes; brainwashing; body change; Omnic hate – Not As I Remember (Patreon)

Zenyatta; Reaper; Soldier – After a mission gone wrong, Soldier76 suddenly vanished from the face of the earth. When Gabriel finally can locate him, he finds him... very much changed.

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Gabriel tries to pretend like he isn’t nervous… but he can see Zenyatta’s head mildly turning toward him, the lights on his faceplate slowly dimming and brightening as he undoubtedly gives him a short scan to verify that his fast heart rate is nothing to worry about.

Luckily, Zenyatta keeps any comments to himself, quietly turning his head back to the front to stare out of the pilot’s window.

There are miles and miles of fields beneath them. He can’t believe that Jack would have been in such a place the whole damn time. It seems idiotic that it took them almost one and a half years to find him when he’s done nothing but be on a flat fucking surface.

The intel has been pretty vague; only a few pictures of a man that Gabriel can barely belief should be the Strike Commander, but… some characteristics were simply irrefutable; like the constellation of freckles on the back of his neck or the one scar crawling out from the neckline of his shirt… almost obscured by the sudden roll of fat  that has gathered all over his body.

No, if not for those two things, Gabriel would never have believed that this waddling fat man was the Commander. But… But.

They land a good ways away from the farm that has picked Jack up. It’s a goddamn cult. Of course it is. Because nothing concerning Jack has ever been easy so he’s had to safe himself from certain death by accidentally getting into a cult-run farm and apparently being indoctrinated with their stupid shit-

He only takes Zenyatta with him as they move closer to the property. He figures the calm disposition of the omnic will be helpful in calming any ruffled feathers – and maybe make Jack remember that he is not a part of this backwards living society but of Overwatch who has been searching for him for-fucking-ever now.

They are greeted at the entrance by moody looking guards. They are not openly wearing any weapons but Gabriel has no doubt that they still got a good few guns pointed in their direction out of various hidey-holes.

They try to keep Zenyatta out of their Omnic-pure farm but eventually have to stand back once their leader steps out to talk to Gabriel. He almost manages to sound normal, though his quick, disgusted glances at the Omnic give him away after all.

“Of course you may talk to brother Jack,” he concludes after no struggle at all, spreading his arms and standing back to let the two of them pass. “Please, step in. I would not wish for Overwatch to think that we have detained someone that does not explicitly wish to be here. I remember the night well that he stumbled into our territory. He was very hurt, so we nursed him back to health.

I would not dream of keeping someone against their will here. He asked whether he could stay here, once he was well enough to travel on his own again. Unfortunately his communication devices had all been lost or stopped functioning once he got here…”

Gabriel listens only with half an ear as they make their way through the farm. Everything looks very clean and put together on the surface, but he can see in the shadows of the buildings how men are starting to get drunk for the evening already. It feels like they are here before the storm and he does not particularly wish to spend the night in this environment.

They are led into a room. Zenyatta stands in the corner, having opted not to say a word since encountering the guards at the entrance which is just as well.

“I have detected some Omnic exoskeletons in one of the barns, Commander,” he suddenly says, voice pitched low in a conspiring murmur.

That announcement is… troubling, to say the least, but nothing that Gabriel can be overly concerned about since the door opens and Jack pushes his way in, face immediately looking stormy once his clear blue eyes see Zenyatta standing in the corner.

His massive body comes to a halt, the fat seemingly experiencing ‘after tremors’... at least in Gabriel’s brain that feels full of static for a second. He’s seen the pictures, but being face to face with Jack after such a long time and seeing him like this is… difficult.

“What’s that thin’ doin’ here?” he asks with such a broad, weird drawl that it sounds as if he were missing a lot of his teeth or his tongue had swollen to double its size.

Gabriel needs a moment to even parse what Jack said. That voice is so like him, and still so unlike him-

“This is Agent Zenyatta who has come to back me up today,” Gabriel finally responds, hands on the desk in front of him trying not to curl into fists. “Why don’t you sit down, Jack?”

Jack stays right where he is, his eyes narrowing until Gabriel can barely see them anymore thanks to the swollen, fatty parts of his face. It’s almost impossible to accept that this man is the same sharp-jawed Morrison that Gabriel had known for many years now.

“Won’t do any o’ the sort. Fuckin’ scum Omnic. Get ‘im outta here or I’ll trash it mahself.”

Zenyatta shifts slightly in the corner of the room but a single finger of Gabriel’s, discreetly lifted, has him settle back down without a sound. Gabriel doesn’t leave Jack out of his sight. He can’t see a weapon on his person, but there’s no telling what he might have still secretly tucked away in the dirty, grimy overalls he is wearing.

“How about we forget the violence against Omnics for just a moment and have a civilized talk. Just the two of us. Agent Zenyatta won’t say a thing.”

“It better won’t,” Jack grunts. He stands there for a moment longer, looking stubborn and mulish but after a moment he does move closer, sitting down on the chair opposite Gabriel. It creaks desperately underneath his weight; like it only needs a few grams more to break apart completely.

It is… absolutely insane.

“First thing’s first,” Gabriel says, trying to keep his wits about him. “Do you recognize me?”

Jack scoffs, leaning back and crossing his arms over his fatty chest.

“Think I’m an idiot, do ya? Course I remember you lot. Fuckin’ around with ‘em Omnic scum. Or you started actually fuckin’ ‘em yet?” His whole face crumples together in disgust.

Gabriel neither confirms, nor denies. He instead leans forward just a little, fixing Jack with a tight stare.

“Why have you not contacted Overwatch after your failed mission?”

“I’ve been wounded. And the communicator’s been busted,” he says with the air of an unruly child. He turns his head away so he won’t have to look at Gabriel until he realizes that that makes him stare directly at Zenyatta. So he looks back at his erstwhile friend, splotches of agitated color appearing on his fatty chin and cheeks.

Gabriel sucks his teeth. He wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him, ask him what the Hell that is supposed to mean. Of course he would have been able to contact them at any time if he had just wanted to!

Instead he tries to make himself calm down, leaning forward still as he lowers his voice some, all but whispering to Jack who has to tilt his head to even understand.

“Will you come with me, Jack? There is a jet waiting for us. Whatever happened… we’ll get this whole thing figured out. Get you back on track.”

“I’ll do fuckall!” Jack exclaims immediately, guffawing as he leans back, the chair cracking desperately beneath him. He slaps his meaty hand onto the table a few times as if what Gabriel had said truly is the funniest shit he’s ever heard.

Gabriel has never seen him laugh; certainly not like this. It transforms his whole being into something profoundly ugly and disturbing. Gabriel leans back again slightly, back ramrod straight.

“I won’t fuckin’ go anywhere, Gabe. Certainly not to goddamn Overwatch whose been gettin’ all buddy buddy with the damn machines. Them times’re over with. Fuck this shit.”

Gabriel wants to grab him again and shake him; ask him what the fuck these people did to him and how he, mister steadfast and iron will, could spew such frankly disgusting nonsense… but he knows it won’t do a damn fucking thing.

He swallows hard, slowly curling one hand into a loose fist.

“So you won’t come back home?” he asks quietly.

Jack snorts and gets up with a drawn-out grunt like it’s a real damn effort to get onto his feet… which it probably is.

“I am home, pal. Get back to where ya came from. Take that fuckin’ thing with ya if ya don’t want it to get its damn head bashed in. And leave me the fuck alone.”

He turns and shuffles toward the door without looking back. He doesn’t properly say goodbye, he just… leaves.

And… that… and that is apparently that.