Post by Junkrat on Oct 21, 2016 21:29:29 GMT
They'd begun their gathering shortly after the Fusion Core's meltdown, the explosion that uprooted everyone and killed hundreds, where some decided to become the rag tag group of crazies known as the Junkers, some had decided to gather for a cause.
Hyena had been a part of the ALF, a minor player in that game, but a part of it no less. He'd survived the blast where so many involved had not, and where many of the survivors gave up the fight and accepted the way things were now, Hyena stayed angry, and geared towards a single minded goal. No matter what the lot of them thought, they had been wronged, he like so many other residents of the Outback had waited for someone to come to their aid, waited desperately for help from the outside, or even just from the cities that still stood civilized in the midst of the new, hostile wasteland.
But help never came.
No legendary heroes, not relief, just a reminder that the world was more than keen to forget that they existed, and that they were suffering. And while many were content to lay back and accept this, he was not.
Of course, his group was still a rag tag band of misfits at best, people not content with sitting by and adapting to the way things were, they all had a reason to be here with him, fighting to regain what had been taken from them, what was owed to them.
The Vultures were a family, in the barest sense of the word, or that was how Hyena felt. They'd managed to build up a sturdy and stable settlement of scrap and junk, fortified against most anything the Outback could throw at them.
But not so much this.
Hyena was anxious as he sat by one of the old radios, it was clunky and shit at best, but still occasionally picked up frequencies from across the Outback, little snips and bits from the Junker settlements that dotted the landscape. Right now they all seemed to be fretting over the same message, a giant Omnic war machine wreaking havoc, a handful of Bastion units, and silence from the outside world.
It was the same thing all over again, he realized, the only saving grace was the fact that it sounded like they were heading away from his group, but for how long? He wasn't stupid, he knew their group couldn't do shit against an army of war machines, trying would be idiotic. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, flicking off the radio and rising from his seat to make his rounds to check on his company.
Hyena had been a part of the ALF, a minor player in that game, but a part of it no less. He'd survived the blast where so many involved had not, and where many of the survivors gave up the fight and accepted the way things were now, Hyena stayed angry, and geared towards a single minded goal. No matter what the lot of them thought, they had been wronged, he like so many other residents of the Outback had waited for someone to come to their aid, waited desperately for help from the outside, or even just from the cities that still stood civilized in the midst of the new, hostile wasteland.
But help never came.
No legendary heroes, not relief, just a reminder that the world was more than keen to forget that they existed, and that they were suffering. And while many were content to lay back and accept this, he was not.
Of course, his group was still a rag tag band of misfits at best, people not content with sitting by and adapting to the way things were, they all had a reason to be here with him, fighting to regain what had been taken from them, what was owed to them.
The Vultures were a family, in the barest sense of the word, or that was how Hyena felt. They'd managed to build up a sturdy and stable settlement of scrap and junk, fortified against most anything the Outback could throw at them.
But not so much this.
Hyena was anxious as he sat by one of the old radios, it was clunky and shit at best, but still occasionally picked up frequencies from across the Outback, little snips and bits from the Junker settlements that dotted the landscape. Right now they all seemed to be fretting over the same message, a giant Omnic war machine wreaking havoc, a handful of Bastion units, and silence from the outside world.
It was the same thing all over again, he realized, the only saving grace was the fact that it sounded like they were heading away from his group, but for how long? He wasn't stupid, he knew their group couldn't do shit against an army of war machines, trying would be idiotic. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, flicking off the radio and rising from his seat to make his rounds to check on his company.
