Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
muroieda) wrote in ![[community profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/community.png)
legionworld2017-03-05 05:50 pm
muroieda) wrote in legionworld2017-03-05 05:50 pm
Entry tags:
I'm waking up to ash and dust
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.
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.
no subject
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?"
no subject
Junkrat was a type that Casey saw every day back home.
Well, OK, he mostly saw the Purple Dragons and they weren't really all that much like this guy in any way but one: they had the idea that they got to do whatever they wanted. Humiliate him or knock him around, it just meant Casey was going to fight back.
If he'd been thinking more clearly, he might not have done what he did next. Later on, part of him would hear April or Raph's voice telling him to cool off, clear his head, meditate. And they might be right.
For the moment, he grins.
"Nice arm," he says through a constricted airway, "Mine can do that too. Watch!"
He presses his potato-masher stunner into Junkrat's chest, and lets the electricity fly. It's not enough to kill, but it does hurt, and...
Will it actually make the arm let go? Another thing Casey will realize he should have thought about before he acted. Right now, he just wants to show this scumbag that he can't get away with making fun of The Reaper.
no subject
He's never been a representative for exemplary health. It's a fight for your life just to take a breath in the irradiated Outback, and even if you do survive, you don't exactly walk away in one piece, because they're usually failing or falling off by then.
Thankfully for Casey, his arm doesn't tighten. It doesn't work off of the same electrical impulses that -- just for a random, unrelated example -- his heart does.
An agonized scream echoes through the mess hall. If they haven't gathered everyone's attention by now, they certainly did this time. He tries to shove Casey away -- though it's not terribly effective when his body is trying to seize up on him. It's easier to curl up in a fetal position, trying to make himself as small and as far away from Casey as possible. God dammit, where was Roadhog when he needed him?!
Junkrat presses his hands against his chest in a futile attempt to soothe the violent arrhythmia in his chest, unable to take in a full breath, the corners of his vision turning dark -- no, no, no, no, he can't afford to pass out, not here, not right now, he's going to die --
He takes in the deepest breath he can, shrieking with a panicked crack in his voice:
"Is anyone gonna stop this kid from beatin' up a disabled bloke?! And you cunts call yourselves superheroes!!"
no subject
The commotion over here was too much to ignore, however. Particularly when it started coming to physical blows, something he was certain would draw the attention of the higher-ups. Something no-one here wanted.
Casey is given a severe look, though in truth that helmet only really has one expression to it, before Locus reaches down to haul Junkrat to his feet. If he needs to be taken to medical, sooner rather than later, better to have a helping hand. Even if it's not the most gentle.
"Enough."
If Casey wants to continue, he'll now have to go through Locus to do it.
no subject
Casey is only a little bit taken aback by Locus's presence, which is kind of intimidating but mostly just annoying. He keeps trying to look around Locus to see Junkrat.
Junkrat doesn't really have a condition, does he? Why would the Time guy bring him in to be a hero if a little shock is enough to get him all shrieky and panicked? That just doesn't make any freakin' sense.
no subject
Junkrat appreciates the help, even though it comes with a heavy hand. To be honest, he prefers it over someone the feather-like touch of the medbay staff. He's survived worse than being manhandled.
He's survived worse than electric shocks. Damn it, why's it gotta start acting up now?
He doesn't even get the chance to stabilize himself upright. The sudden change in orientation is too much of a shift for his arrhythmic heart to keep up with, and when the world suddenly goes dark, Junkrat immediately becomes dead weight in Locus's hands. The shock from hitting the floor is enough to jolt him back awake, but by instinct alone he tries to scramble back upwards even though the state of his heart hasn't changed since the first time he lost consciousness.
When he hits the ground a second time, it's for good, out for the count but still alive.
no subject
Shaking his head to himself, he pulls the man off the floor and over a shoulder with little effort, before eyeing Casey. Who is in so much trouble when Junkrat has the opportunity to tell this tale to the higher-ups. But that's his story to tell.
He's involved himself as far as he cares to, in these matters.
"And now you've finished it. Go."