#blizzcon 2020

A lot of BlizzCon's cost was setup/ con space/ security/ swag. Employees worked the event even. So without that overhead, yeah it's free! I'm glad people who haven't experienced it before will this year.

Summary: Within the workshop, Omnic and Crusader first lay eyes on one another. A drabble based on the little six-second story clip shown with Reinhardt and Bastion. It/its pronouns for Bastion.

~~~

Torbjorn had told him to expect something but he never knew it was going to be this.

Familiar tan with a currently blue optic and Reinhardt knew he only had seconds to act. Training, years of training, and single fleeting moments of a battlefield long past, overtook his senses and he ran towards the figure. Closing distance was everything- this model was almost useless in melee range. The closer he got, the more he could shield the surrounding area from its line of fire.

The Bastion did not transform immediately but instead scouted for an escape route for a brief second. Reinhardt could hear nothing but the sound of his own pulse thundering in his ears. He drew his hammer in two hands and at that same instant the Bastion tensed. A familiar harmony of parts transforming filled the air and something visceral spiked through his stomach. A barrel began to spin. Only a matter of seconds. He raised for the swing. Only a matter of seconds.

“Reinhardt! Stop!”

Torbjorn’s voice brought him to a quivering halt. His breath still heaving, his hammer still ready to swing, he froze in place. His vision spun in time of the spinning barrel. 

He waited for the machine to fire. It never did.

~~~

Torbjorn had told it to expect a new friend, with a good smile and a hearty laugh. And tall! Torbjorn had mentioned tall. Bastion waited expectantly in the workshop.

The waiting came to an end when the door opened behind it. It saw Torbjorn come in first, followed by a man clad in silver (a familiar silver, but it dismissed that notification.) A tall, smiling man (in a familiar silver, its processor urged.)

Silver. 

Silver that began walking towards it. The man’s face fell as Bastion extended its hand out in a wave of greeting. Silver hammer, carried in both hands, broke into a charge. 

Combat protocols threatened to erupt forth but then Bastion saw Torbjorn’s shocked face in the back of the room and desperately clamped them back. It scouted for a potential escape route but as it stepped backwards it stumbled which threw its body and processor off balance and, control slipping, its targeting reticule registered-

Crusader.

-and it transformed, barrel spinning with hot fire ready to rain down and eliminate the threat.

“Reinhardt! Stop!”

The Crusader abruptly stopped but with hammer still raised. Bastion clung to the voice in the air to drown out the symphony of fear telling it to fire upon the target now, now, now. It did not want to hurt anyone but it did not want to be destroyed. As long as the Crusader did not move, it would not have to face the truth as to which instinct was stronger.