Chapter Text
Their world had ended years ago, but as humanity was ever the bunch of rats and cockroaches it had always been, a new one had inevitably oozed out of the radiation-clogged pores of the old one. The survivors of the apocalypse had erected a fitting tribute to that death of civilisation and goodwill in the wasteland left behind by the blast. The land was dead, and the society Mako Rutledge had once known had gone with it. He had already been living on its outskirts to begin with, here in the vast Outback. He still did now. Not many others survived without the 'protection' of Junkertown, and surviving with it was not much easier if one could not tolerate the conditions it came with.
Mako Rutledge had never been good at tolerating conditions thrust upon him by outside forces. That's why he'd lived here in the first place, as his own lord and master. He had been silent, but never quiet. That's why he'd been willing to fight for this land... and look now what it had brought him, to him and to the land he had called home: Mako Rutledge had died in that Pyrrhic victory, and his corpse now walked this desert as the monster called Roadhog. The once limitless sky and land stretching out as far as the eye could see had become confines he strained against but couldn't break. He hated it. Hated most of the people still alive. Hated himself at times, too, for the part he had played in creating his own prison while fighting for his freedom.
Since his confines couldn't break, one day it had finally happened to his tolerance for the circumstances. There were still some people around from the old days. There had been more, but they had left years ago in search of a different kind of blue expanse. It had seemed like a stupid idea then, and damn if Roadhog didn't think it was stupid now. What kind of idiot would some day just decide to trek across the post-nuclear Outback until they hit the sea? Quite a few of them, it had turned out, a group of young idiots leaving every now and then in the hopes of finding out what had become of the first expedition. Most of them came back soon with their tail between their legs - actual tail in some cases, courtesy of the radiation. Some were never seen again.
And whichever was more likely to happen to Roadhog who was always alone, lately he had been wondering if being an idiot for a change wasn't better than simply rotting here until he was too old and weak to defend himself against the looters. One day he had walked into Junkertown to trade with Bruce and ended up asking more about the ones who had left. What their plans had been. If Bruce thought they had any chance of survival out there. And most importantly, if the old mechanic had a map Roadhog could use. Turned out he did and was happy to give it to an old friend; he wasn't going to be leaving Junkertown at his age, if the Queen would even allow a valuable engineer to leave without making a fuss, but he had been glad that Roadhog was still his old independent self.
"If you make it to the ocean," he had said, "don't let them ignore you. Make some waves."
Roadhog had just nodded. He had known it was most likely the last time they would see each other. What could he possibly say to that? He had gathered as many supplies as he could bring with him, taken his faithful old bike and simply left. Walls had ears in places like Junkertown, and Roadhog had been annoyed but not surprised to see a small group follow him out into the wasteland, always within view but beyond shooting distance. Too tenacious to be just after supplies that would cost them lives and limbs. He considered taking them all out some night, but the distance they kept eventually began to seem almost respectful, and Roadhog figured they just wanted to find the ocean as well. He'd consulted his map, made in the old days, and found old roads that led to abandoned servos that had once been signs of people actually living out here. Sometimes there had been some fuel left, sometimes not; sometimes, when old Mako had inexplicably reared his dead head somewhere in the back of Roadhog's mind, he'd left some for the group still on his horizon. His map had led him to small towns that still had some useful things left, and he'd seen his followers more closely as they had roamed the streets.
Amazing that their piece of junk car... thing hadn't failed them yet. Even more amazing that they'd been allowed to drive a working vehicle out of Junkertown. They had most likely had to come up with a very convincing lie to be able to do that. Even more likely, they had someone who was capable of keeping the vehicle functional. Probably been planning this for a long while. Despite still being a little annoyed at becoming an unwilling guide to a group of post-apocalyptic misfits, Roadhog had been able to at least appreciate that.
"Hey," he had finally said to one of them he had caught perusing the contents of an abandoned home. "Want to loot as much as you can here." The kid's eyes had looked like they had been about to pop out of his skull. Nice to see that Roadhog was still able to sneak so silently despite his size. "Map says this is last town before the coast."
Still clearly scared shitless, the kid had nodded like one of those bobblehead figures Mako remembered from the time before. He had left him there to sort out his own scavenging; he was absolutely not going to help these people with their hunting or looting, but they had come this far already and had only ever seemed interested in making it to the ocean. Later Roadhog had seen them wait in town as he had left, still keeping that distance as if to thank him for his mercy. Good. Smart. Likely to make it to the ocean after him.
He'd stopped for a long while when he had finally seen it glimmer blue and green and unspoiled at the end of the land. Had seen it many times before, had remembered it all these years when he hadn't been able to see it, in memories he had squashed in anger before they could trigger longing, as well as in dreams that seemed to linger forever after he had woken in a helpless rage. Swum in it back home as a boy. Caught many things that lived in it. The moment had felt almost too holy to break by actually reaching that place and making it real.
He'd looked back and seen the kids stare at that endless blue reaching far, far beyond their sight. That ever-shifting road to the world they had never known. Roadhog hadn't been able to see their faces, but he'd been sure their jaws had all dropped. And still, one of them had quickly stirred and raised something to his face; a flash of reflected light, far too wide to be from a sniper's sights, had told Roadhog they had found some sort of telescope while looting. He'd turned to look at where it had pointed, being guided in turn, and then he'd seen it.
The town had been mostly hidden from Roadhog's sight, but the kid had been able to see it better from the roof of their vehicle. When Roadhog had driven closer, the cliffs and slopes had gradually fallen away to reveal a port town, a living town, and a stretch of green that hadn't been the sea after all. Roadhog had hurried towards it, almost forgetting to keep an eye on the group following him. Roadhog had been barely able to think in that moment, and honestly speaking it hadn't mattered. He'd simply fanged it into the town, and as he'd sat there on his bike, just watching and breathing everything, he'd learned that day that the smell of salt in the air could both break and mend something in a dead man's heart.
"From Junkertown?" someone brave enough to finally approach the enormous stranger had asked. Roadhog had nodded, for once just not trusting his voice not to break rather than being his silent self, and he had heard the kids behind him, voices raised in awe and too excited to keep their distance.
It had been pretty simple after that. Roadhog had found out that some of the people from before were still alive and active here. He would've been allowed in easily enough without that little bonus, but it certainly hadn't hurt to have old friends in town. He'd quickly learned that Port Green didn't send out ships to just fish; many of the inhabitants spent most of their time on the sea robbing ships from more fortunate countries, and this port was their home away from home. While Roadhog hadn't been surprised that such news from the world wouldn't travel to Junkertown anymore, the thought of modern day Australian pirates certainly hadn't been one he would have ever come up with on his own. The kids, never having known the world before the blast, hadn't found it jarring at all. Making it to the coast in Roadhog's wake had made them a little more comfortable with their dangerous guide, and one day he ended up on the receiving end of their excited pirate talk. Apparently the town would sometimes sponsor the building of new ships for a share of the spoils, and Roadhog's reputation with the town leaders would make him a good candidate. He'd also had quite a reputation back in Junkertown, so the brats knew just how deadly he could be. Very quickly it became clear that they wanted to be pirates as well, with Roadhog as their captain.
Roadhog had always been a bit of - well, a lot of - a lone hog, even before the days of the crisis. That's why he'd made the conscious choice to live in the Outback. People had always known better than to mess with him - he was, after all, a one man apocalypse. Roadhog thought of his days of being part of a sort of Team Apocalypse, and had almost told the kids to piss off before he put them on his hook and used them as shark bait. He'd been angry for a few days, but once he'd had some time to calm down and stare at the waves from the window of his room, he'd been able to think of it more clearly for a few more days. He had recognised the necessity and problem of needing a crew before he could be at peace at sea, and he had found it a tolerable price to pay. Had gone to talk to his friends.
And then, months and some much needed recruitments later, he had stood almost in disbelief before a newly built ship that was meant to take him out to sea. His crew had waited patiently, no one daring to rush a pirate captain, much less one who could tear anyone on the crew limb from limb with his bare hands. There'd been some excited talks about naming the ship; Roadhog hadn't been able to bring himself to care, but apparently even Junkertown kids grew up on glorified pirate stories and simply couldn't let it be. Roadhog hadn't really trusted the naming choices of people whose best ideas for their own pirate monikers were either some variation of 'Bloody Jonno' or rhymed with 'Azza', but his sea-longing had temporarily affected his judgement, and so he had agreed to hear some of their ideas.
Although glad that no one dared to suggest Tidehog for either him or his ship, Roadhog's patience had been stretched thin as he had shot down names like The King Hit, The Wave Hoon, and The Furiosa - the last one wasn't actually terrible, and Roadhog had actually spent a moment in impressed reflection of the way the stories of old films lived on in campfire stories people were once again telling each other in the absence of multimedia. Still, the thought of taking a name from something that depicted a dystopian Australia decades before it had really happened made him vaguely uncomfortable, and the name had been rejected.
Bloody Jonno had finally suggested The War Pig. Whether it had been because he really knew of a century-old song from the great-great-grandfather of metal or had at that point just been slapping together words he thought might please his captain, Roadhog hadn't cared. Not even enough to consider the lyrics and their relation to his past; he liked pigs and he liked Black Sabbath, and so the name had stuck.
While Roadhog hadn't liked losing his solitude at first, he had quickly found his crew still feared him enough to avoid disturbing him. He had found the sea a wonderful sanctuary from the wastes of his country, as well as an opportunity for some relaxing slaughter when things got too boring and his blood too hot, and his returns to Port Green were always tinged with some sadness. The sea was now a home to return to - not just to ride the waves, but to make them.
Oh, he had no clue what was waiting for him on those waves.