I'm waking up to ash and dust

[muroieda]

Who| You! And a fried demolitions expert only known as Junkrat.
What| Junkrat scopes out his new living situation upon Legion World.
Where| Various places around the ship.
When| A few days after Junkrat's arrival
Warnings/Notes| None - yet.

He really doesn't appreciate the fact the he's been brought here against his will, but since the guy that seems responsible is a tad indisposed to making his presence tangible, he'll have to sideline any plans on giving this time-keeper or whatever it is a piece of his mind. The more important part is that he's been offered a job, and Junkrat pretty much took it immediately without giving it much thought. No job too big, no score too small. He was daydreaming and tuned out the fine print and rules - there were always rules - and they always got broken, and it never really mattered because he always got the job done, whether or not that was under the purview of their restrictions or not.

Superpowers and malicious omnipotents and intergalactic peace. Cool. Whatever. When does he get to blow something up?

On second thought, how was he supposed to blow things up in the first place? He's arrived empty-handed except for his clothes and prosthetics, which--on one hand, he's thankful enough for what he still has--but on the other, it's going to be a pain in the ass if he lands himself in a bad situation.

Could be worse. Could always be worse. Besides, this place seems rather...peaceful? There's all sorts of shapes and sizes of people (?) around here, and Junkrat isn't sure if he fits in or stands out. Like any other job, he needs to (a) scope the place out, and (b) gather materials.

A typical day in the life of Junkrat, even if it involves being displaced some thousand years in the future on a space ship. He's always been adaptable.

----- A: ENGINEERING BAY -----

Of course, this is the first place he ends up. Eager mechanics and engineers are glad to share their knowledge with someone who seems expresses an energetic curiosity and interest, asking questions that only someone proficient in the craft would have the initiative to ask. It's all a front, of course - the questions are distractions so that he can pinch whatever material and tools are laying about, free for the taking. Junkrat's just arrived here and he's already breaking the rules, and he figures that he'll stop when his bag gets full...you know, eventually?

Plus, he's learning an awful lot about this machinery all at once. Very fascinating - from where he once stood, all of this was only in theory. Not necessarily something he'd make...but good to know. Just in case.

----- B: MESS HALL -----

When Junkrat heard that he'd have to have a uniform, he figured that it was going to be some lame, stuffy outfit that looked the same as everyone else's. The thought made him gag, and he'd honestly go naked before having to join swaths of monotonously-dressed coworkers.

After seeing the kind of outfits everyone on this ship wears, he's come to realize that he was mistaken. No, they're not all the same, but they're still lame and stuffy - and he's learned that you actually get a say in what it ends up looking like.

He may be stretching the interpretation of "say" in this case.

Instead of working with the clothiers develop something together, he's gathered up a sketchbook and some markers and landed in the mess hall to get to work. The noise and activity might be too much for most people, but the background of controlled chaos helps him think - plus, he gets free food here, which is probably the greatest thing he's found out since wandering this place. While he shovels food of an unknown origin into his mouth, he doodles various design ideas. He's quite good at drawing, even though his notes are written in legible but atrocious handwriting. Those poor Anthramites are going to have a run for their money on this one.

----- C: OBSERVATION DECK -----

There's not much for him here, and yet...

Junkrat leans against the railing, taking in the view in awed and uncharacteristic silence. He's been to so many places, seen so many different things, all on a single planet. And here it is - a whole other planet, ripe for exploration and hyjinx. And this is the only place you could ever get a view like this...well, while still being able to breathe, anyway.

With metal fingers stroking his jaw idly, this quiet moment is probably the first time that the reality of the situation is really starting to dawn on him.

...it's kind of scary, isn't it? Not only has he been thrust into this ship with a responsibility he knows he doesn't fully understand, on some magnitude he can't really conceive - but he's staring out at a planet at a distance that makes it feel like you could reach out and pick it up.

He feels so small.

Comments

B

[jonesiseverywhere]

Funny how artists seem to just find each other.

Casey didn't exactly plan to end up at the mess hall, but he found he needed to eat a lot more than he usually did in order to keep up his insane athletic energy. Couldn't just get protein from an all-meat colon buster combo meal around here. Had to find something veggie-based, which mostly meant nuts.

He was going to work out some new explosives techniques, so he's in full uniform, skull mask included, when he happens to pass by one of the weirdest-looking characters he's seen to date, drawing some actually good stuff. The guy is decked out in prosthetics that look like they were made...well, the way Casey would make them. Out of junk, by himself.

"Huh. Not bad. You tag?"

[muroieda]

Junkrat is very much on a roll when Casey shows up, so he's caught off-guard when he's directly addressed, jolting upward. He stares at Casey with a dingo-in-the-headlights expression, swallowing his current mouthful of food because he doesn't want to end up inhaling it as he breaks out in gut-bursting, foot-tamping laughter, pointing at Casey as if he'd made the joke of the century out of the blue.

This goes on for...a while.

It does eventually die off, and Junkrat brings in a few lungfuls of desperate air while he wipes the tears that welled up in the corners of his eyes in the process.

"Ahh, sorry about that, mate. If I'd realized it was Halloween, I would've brought a costume!"

He asked something earlier. What was it? What was--oh!

"Oh, roight, tags! Uh...only if I need ta, I guess. Why? Need a wall painted?"

It's not exactly his specialty, but he does understand that he's unusually tall and pretty well-equipped for the task if it really calls for it.

[jonesiseverywhere]

Yeah, Casey doesn't think it's that funny. If there is one thing he can't stand, that gets to him it's being laughed at.

"What, my superhero duds not good enough for ya?" He says, lifting his mask. He just wanted to ask if the guy was down for making Legion World a more colorful place and he gets mocked? Lame!

But Casey has always given as good as he gets.

"Just thought your stuff might look better on the wall." He pulls off his glove and a small glowing ball appears in his hand, which he flicks into the pile of papers. When it goes off, it's like a freaking parade went by. And in the papery mess, Casey stands with the smuggest look a teen can pull off. And that's pretty smug.

"See? What I tell ya?"

[muroieda]

Even though he jumped at the sudden arrival of unannounced company, Junkrat doesn't even so much as flinch at the explosive charge that makes confetti out of his sketchbook.

What. The hell. Was that.

In another context, Junkrat would've instantly lost his mind. Explosions out of nothing? What a novelty! Must be all that superpower crap that they went on about earlier, that everyone is dressed to the teeth for, like long-forgotten comic books. But this context? This context involved at least an hour's worth of work, totally demolished.

What were the rules? No killing, right? Damn. Where was Roadhog when he needed him?

Junkrat balances his elbows on the table surface and casually caps his marker, then places it on the table neatly. His expression is neutral, as if completely uninvested in what just happened. The rest of his markers have been scattered, so he takes a good, sweet moment to gather them up and place them beside each other, one by one, then places his metal hand over them as if to make mental inventory to make sure he'd found them all. Yep. At least he still has those. They were the harder ones to find. Nicer markers. He can find more paper just about anywhere. But his progress is lost forever.

Then his prosthetic arm lurches forward, closing the space between him and Casey in a split second, grabbing the kid by the throat and dragging him across the table so that their faces are near centimeters from each other. Junkrat's smile is bitter saccharine, leaving barely enough space either in his throat or between the two of them to breathe.

"Let me lay some ground rules for ya real quick: the only one who gets to blow up my stuff is me. I'll let this one go since we just met, and I do genuinely like yer style, but if ya try'ta pull a stunt like that again, I'll return it tenfold."

His hand tightens.

"Have I made myself clear, mate?"

observation deck;

[vata]

She's promised not to kill anyone without them deserving it. She's also promised herself that she won't act without thinking— and there's something to be said for the fact that Jamison Fawkes isn't stealthy in this or any lifetime: the fact that he's here means he's either struck a deal with the Legion, or someone else busted themselves to get him in.

In this case, she isn't taking any chances.

So she's there at his back, just out of sight like she had been during the last mission, all vibrant blue to mask her former identity - gun raised and leveled at the back of his head.

"You're a long way away from home, vato."

[muroieda]

Ain't that the truth. Junkrat tries, but all that comes out is a half-hearted huff of a laugh - a scoff at best. He doesn't bother turning around just yet; he imagines this is pretty common conversation in this place - in lieu of talking about the weather, given that there isn't any.

"So's everyone else, I hear."

But there's...something awfully familiar about that voice, isn't there? He's really tempted to pass it off as wishful thinking and keep his eyes trained on the view, but it eats at him more than he's comfortable with, so he slowly turns to get a look at his company. They always did say that curiosity killed the rat--

--maybe literally. The first thing he sees is the gun, and with lightning-fast reflexes he's backing himself up against the railing, almost vaulting himself over it before he glances over his shoulder and remembers that there's a pretty brutal height to fall from. He turns back to her, hands up at shoulder-height in a show of surrender.

"Woahwoahwoahwoah, okay, I'm pretty sure that we're like some thousand light-years away from any place that has a price tag on me head, so why don'tcha put down the gun so we can talk like normal?"

He's frantically searching her face for some kind of idea of who she is. What is it with people and masks?! Thank God he's used to this stuff.

[vata]

"You'd be wrong about that." But it's a good sign, isn't it? His moods run hot or cold, and given that he isn't cackling maniacally at the moment, Sombra's inclined to buy into the idea that maybe he really is here out of the goodness of—

Well, maybe the Legion offered him a better deal.

She tips the gun back towards her shoulder, letting it rest there instead of brandishing it against him - though it's still close enough to be an overt threat. "Do you really not know why you being here is something people are going to be worried about?"

[muroieda]

"...The hell is that supposed'ta mean?"

His hands stay up. The last thing he needs is someone with a live firearm to think that he's got something up his sleeve - especially when he doesn't.

"No? I mean, yes, there are plenty of reasons why people should be worried, but I feel like yer talkin' about some kind of specific reason and if that's the case I haven't the foggiest what it could be because I've only been here for a couple'a days now and I've been on me best behavior the whole time, honest, the only thing I've made is a few drawin's and checkin' the place out, it's absolutely mental how big this place is--" Stop. Stop it! Junkrat claps his hands over his mouth to force himself to stop yammering, visibly deflating with a slouch.

He knows this kind of stuff makes him look guilty as hell to anyone who doesn't know him, but anyone that does knows him knows that he has absolutely no filter and is terrible at actually flat-out lying. He's hoping his gut is right, because otherwise that means he gets a bullet in his brain when he's finally trying to be well-behaved.

Ironic. Roadhog would probably laugh.

B

[justice_from_above]

Fareeha grabs a tray, loads it up with a responsible amount of food from a responsible collection of fruits, vegetables, proteins and carbs, treats herself with a responsibly sized dessert, and finishes the tray with a water and a sports drink. She then goes to find somewhere to sit.

She sees Junkrat and pauses. He's a new face, which is curious - but then he's familiar and she can't place why. She hadn't been around during the hostage situation he had apparently been blowing people up in here, but she feels like she's seen him in a broadcast somewhere, perhaps. She approaches the table and smiles,

"Is it alright if I join you?"

Best way to figure out if she knows him is to get to know him, really.

[muroieda]

Junkrat looks up at Fareeha when she addresses him. That's...unusual. People usually give him a healthy berth at all times, and for good reason; he's not exactly the most sterile and stable company. He's immediately suspicious. Surely there must be an ulterior motive here.

His chewing slowly comes to a stop, and he sits up from his slouched position to look around at the rest of the mess hall. There are still plenty of seats left, so that throws that out of the proverbial window. Airlock?

...Maybe it's just that he really isn't that weird of a sight around here, amongst aliens and creatures and (ugh) non-organics.

He turns back to her.

"Uuuuuuh, sure," Junkrat answers slowly, with a full mouth. "Knock yerself out, mate."

[justice_from_above]

Perhaps it is a little suspect. They don't exactly look like the they'd fly in the same flock; a veritable odd couple, as it were. Still, she's persistent and curious so when he doesn't deny her, she settles in across from him.

Once she's settled she holds her hand out in greeting, "I'm Fareeha Amari. I'm still finding my way around, have you been here long?"

A

[fantasmaniac]

Reaper doesn't get himself involved in the day-to-day with most of the Legionnaires or its staff, only when he deems it necessary. The itch to pull both triggers of his guns is starting to become a nuisance, though he technically has no trouble with just having one. He'd be OK with just having one if it was by choice.

Yet he'd caught the scent of a rat on his way towards the engineering bay, considering getting a couple of replicas made to match his new outfit. It wasn't hard, because well, this is where one would gesture towards all of Junkrat. Quiet as the fog that rolls into the room, he makes his presence known to the engineers (they regard him with some caution, but are generally unafraid) before flattening himself into a ground-hugging trail of smoke. Right behind Junkrat.

Slowly, he builds himself back up into his solid shape. No gun out yet, he doesn't want to raise a fuss in a civilian facility, so he just prepares himself for a scuffle. He still recalls the fiasco not too long ago involving both the junkers. Can't blame him for being Extremely Suspicious.

"Looking for trouble, Fawkes?"

really, reapes? the christmas one?

[muroieda]

Junkrat is undeniably used to hearing low, growling voices coming from behind him, so the only part of this that really surprises him is the fact that he's pretty sure there was no one standing behind him just a second ago. Wow, he really should be more cautious of the people around him if he's going to keep filching tools!

He turns around to see who in the world in this place already knows his name, and--woah, that's a familiar face! ...mask!

"Wahey! G'day mate!"

His smile is all sunshine and rainbows and soot.

"Awh, ya know me! No one does it better than I do." Junkrat reaches out with an elbow to try to give Reaper a pally pat to the arm. "Funny runnin' into you here! ...Wait."

It is funny running into someone he knows--albeit not well, it's more like know of--in a place like this.

"What are ya doin' here?"

hell yes the christmas one, but sans the snowflake pattern on the back

[fantasmaniac]

If his mask could narrow its eyes, that's what it'd be doing right now. The slight shift of his body language gives it away, unable to understand why and how Junkrat can be this chipper and indifferent to his position (at least in the eyes of the Legion). Either something's wrong, or someone higher up gave him amnesty for his crimes. Could be both.

He doesn't even react to the pat, his body jostling stiffly at the effort. On any other given day, he would've punched him square in the jaw.

"Not any of your concern," he replies gruffly, but it probably won't be long before the junker realizes most of them weren't here out of solidarity for the cause. "Funny that they let you roam around freely."

C

[rushing_by]

Barry, in his Flash suit withe mask pulled down, passes through the observation deck at a walk. Intending to head down to the Science Labs to do some more research on 31st century forensic techniques, he pauses and double-takes as he spots Junkrat.

"...didn't I arrest you?"

[muroieda]

"Eh?"

Junkrat looks over his shoulder to see this...stranger? He looks the other up and down, trying to seek out anything that might jog his memory in an awkward silence that passes. Yeah, there's something familiar about him, all right. What is it? Something...something like--oh, right, a video.

That video.

Oh, jeez.

"...Nooooo?" he answers, slowly, and full of uncertainty. "...Not that I remember, anyway. Sorry about that, mate."

Ironically enough, he's being entirely genuine right now.

A

[fuckaccuracy]

Took a swindler to recognize another one. Though Gaige was more in the business of sort of shooting people and then taking their stuff. Usually cash but gear and guns were fair game, too. Man, those really were the days. Anyways, she keeps on discreetly watching him until he's done.

Once that finally happens, she sort of walks over his side and asks.

"So... You find anything good lying about?" Gaige might definitely be trying to peek into that bag, by the way.

[muroieda]

Took a swindler to know one, indeed. And when it comes to junkers, the territorial finders keepers rule is violently enforced.

Junkrat scowls, sharply batting her hand away from his bag.

"Oi, rack off! If ya need yer own equipment, go pinch it yerself."

He's gotta be careful around this one, huh? Need to keep inventory of her hands. Hands. Hands?

Hands.

"Holy dooley!" he exclaims, leaning down to snatch up her metal arm and holding it up in his own to inspect it with a keen sense of interest. "Now this is some grouse hardware if I've ever seen! You make this yourself, mate?"

[fuckaccuracy]

And there it was. Right there. The validation of knowing that her work was just about amazing. Granted, Gaige already knew that she rocked, but it was always so much nicer hearing the words out of someone else's mouth. Please, go ahead and recognize her talents some more.

"Well... Funny you should ask that."

She loves the attention.

"As a matter of fact, yes! Built it myself after I cut off the original. And really, cybernetic limbs are so much more awesome. Except for learning how to use fingers again. Took me a while before I could get that part down."

engineering bay

[mylawn]

76 recognizes Junkrat when he sees him--he's an avid follower of the news, after all (you have to be, when you're an internationally-wanted vigilante), and he'd be surprised if Junkrat didn't recognize him in turn. They're both on wanted posters all over the world in varying amounts, and it doesn't bode well that the kid is here now.

Then again, he already knows the Legion will take just about anybody.

So if they're not going to vet their new recruits, then 76 most certainly will. He catches sight of Junkrat and outright stalks him to the engineering bay. A man of 76's size isn't exactly the best at stealth, so he makes himself known sooner rather than later.

"Are you sure you should be messing with that?"

[muroieda]

Soldier catches him red-handed with a random component that has been intentionally set aside for some other use. It's benign enough by itself, but in the wrong hands...

Junkrat hides his behind his back the split-second he's addressed, more out of spooked reflex than anything else. Does he recognize him? Kinda. He knows the (face?) and the notoriety but not what earned it or his name. The name part isn't that surprising to Junkrat, as that tends to be par for the course, but not to know why someone's a big deal is unusual. He keeps a keen eye on those kinds of newscasts, keeping an ear open on what they have to say about his exploits and eagerly waiting to see a digit tick up his and Roadhog's bounties with almost narcissistic glee. Of course, you always have to keep an eye out on your competition. So what was this guy's shtick again...?

"Dunno whatcher talkin' about, mate!" he declares, giving 76 an unrepentantly cheeky grin. Despite having just clearly hidden the thing behind his back, he now holds out his hands, which are now totally empty. "Messin' with what?"

[mylawn]

76's expression is mostly inscrutable because of the mask, but it's still easy to see one of his eyebrows arching just at the top of his visor. Even if Junkrat wasn't poorly hiding the object in question, it's clear that he's not buying any of this.

"That thing you've got behind your back."

He's even going to lean to the side a little and point it out. That thing. Right there.

B

[bachido]

The background buzz died down somewhat as Kubo made his way to the usual wall where he told his midday stories, since by now anyone who ate at this time knew what to expect from the boy in the red haori jacket over his black skintight legion uniform.

The roll of butcher paper was new to everyone, though.

Kubo had a little surprise for everyone today. A new device was clipped to the body of his shamisen, an amplifier that made his sound so much bigger than it had ever been. When he strummed his first chord to announce the day's story, the electrified shamisen cut through the remainder of the background chatter. Peoples' napkins always tended to be unusually active during Kubo's performances, but this chord made every piece of paper in the room jump as if in excitement.

That included any paper anyone might be drawing on.

"If you must blink -" Kubo had to raise his voice more than usual to be heard over the sound of his amplified instrument. "- Do it now!"

Kubo jumped into the song for the day's tale, and every napkin in the room flew off the tables. The butcher paper behind him snapped from its roll and folded upon itself in a huge square.

"Hanzo, the mightiest samurai, was lost at sea," Kubo began, the enormous square of butcher paper rippling behind him, creating a sound effect like thunder as smaller pieces of blue paper swarmed from his pack, mimicking the look of a raging ocean.

Even with no particular direction from the storyteller, the remainder of the paper in the room vibrated and swirled as if trying to dance to the song he played.

[muroieda]

Forget whatever he's working on.

The very second Junkrat hears the familiar and fond noise of a shamisen's chord, his head immediately shoots up, looking for the source of the sound. His doodling can wait, he needs to find...

Not that it ends up being very hard. This kid seems intent on giving a performance. Is this a thing that happens in this place regularly, or is this guy just looking for an audience? Well, he's certainly found it. Junkrat gets out of the booth so he can watch--and with his height, he doesn't need to wrestle his way to the front to get a decent view.

He's not exactly the kind of audience to sit silently to appreciate it, what with his fascinated cooing and delighted giggling, but at least his enjoyment is quite obvious.

[bachido]

He's not the only one voicing enthusiasm in the audience, most of whom are Legionworld employees on meal breaks. A bunch were already in their audience positions by the time Kubo finished setting up. He's been doing this a while, and a number of the audience have started scheduling their meal breaks routinely enough to be regulars.

Still, Kubo noticed Junkrat, with an eye for reading his audience that was honed very sharp by years of needing to read an audience if he wanted enough money from them to eat, and feed his mother as well.

"Three days, Hanzo and his loyal samurai had braved the raging waves. Three days, the Singing Serpent eluded them, vanished into the depths after destroying seaside towns all along the cliffs of the land. On the fourth day came the hurricane."

The story swept on, Kubo's amplified sound allowing him to control much more paper than before, letting him tell a story that he'd never felt satisfied in his telling before. He made sure to engage his new audience member along the way. As the samurai and his soldiers sailed the rolling blue sea, eventually tracking down the monster responsible for the destruction of many villages, Kubo sent the golden-paper serpent diving sharply at his audience, and orchestrated near misses by soldiers flung from the ship, then caught and pulled back on deck just before hitting someone by their noble leader and his noble grappling hook.

Once the Singing Serpent wound the full length of its nine-foot paper body around Junkrat, Kubo's shamisen searing the air with the haunting echoes of the serpent's song.

The tale ended when the noble Hanzo dove from the wreckage of his smashed ship to singlehandedly spear the serpent through the weak point in the roof of its mouth during crashing thunder and lightning produced by silvered pieces of paper flashing over the mess hall's lighting elements. The story left the samurai team clinging to pieces of their shattered ship, drifting in a sea calming as the hurricane moved on. But as the crew gathered their wits and what supplies were left to them, a single grey fin rose from the paper water. Then another. Then another!

"- but that is a different story," the young storyteller informed his audience, "and this story is at an end. For all stories have an end, but there is no end of stories."

He struck his final notes, and the small pieces of paper that had made up his set flew back into their neat pile atop his silk pack. The butcher paper unfolded and rerolled itself, and everyone's napkins - including Junkrat's sketches - fell where they'd first been at the start of the story.

"So be sure to come back tomorrow!" Kubo said, as he tied up his pack around his pieces of paper, lingering to exchange a few words with his audience.