legionworld | I'm waking up to ash and dust

Entry tags:

✘ junkrat

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.

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

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.

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."

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?"

He takes up her hand without hesitation, and gives her a powerfully assertive shake. Nothing that would crush any bones - which really wouldn't be that unlikely with this kind of chunky, power-auto prosthetic - but if she's at all a limp fish she'll find her elbow going straight into her own food.

"Jamison Fawkes," he says cheerfully enough, despite his hesitation earlier. "But I go by Junkrat. Yeah, been here for a few days myself, but the only just let me outta me cage earlier today."

Her handshake is firm and confident itself, strengthened from its time in armor and carrying a rocket launcher and bracing from concussive shot recoil. It might not be as crushing-capable as a robotic prosthetic, but he'll find she's got her own strength.

He gives her his name and it clicks. Ah. She remembers. Newscasts, car chases, he's a wanted man. Not really part of her responsibility with Helix but that's why he's familiar. She hesitates, because no she would normally not seat herself so easily with a known criminal, but then she remembers it's different here; he's part of Legion, so obviously someone felt there was a reason for him to be here.

She smiles, it's genuine. "Junkrat? That's different. How are you finding it here?"

For what it's worth, he doesn't notice her hesitation.

"Too peaceful," he answers cheerfully. "'m not bored--yet--there's plenty of this place I haven't checked out. All this alien and interstellar travel stuff, that's pretty spiffy. Bunch'a freaks, gettin' along n' savin' the universe and all. I can get behind that. Especially gettin' paid for it."

Junkrat has a moment of hesitation himself, and for a moment the cheer dims.

"...Kinda wish it didn't feel so much like we got kidnapped though."

They probably make a fairly odd visual, sitting together in an otherwise mostly-empty mess hall.

"I know. That fact does dull the magic a bit. But, we can't always choose our own destiny." She certainly tried, of course, but had to adapt when doors were closed on her. "For better or for worse, here we all are together; we'd better make the most of it."

Junkrat gives her a lopsided smirk. "Ain't you an optimist!" he declares, sitting back in his chair and twirling his marker between his fingers with practiced fidgeting.

"But I'm gonna have to respectfully disagree, mate! Sure, we can't control everything that happens'ta ya - I'm a shinin' example of that! But destiny, that's somethin' else. We could just wander this place as regular ol' citizens, but we made a different choice.

"But there's somethin' so final about the word destiny, ya know? I always felt like it's more of an ongoing journey. Could always stay the course, or you can change things up. Make a difference in a different way. Change is nice like that! Hate 'ta stay the same all the time."

Just an anarchist rambling ceaselessly about life philosophy. You sat here, Fareeha. You asked for this.

"Perhaps 'destiny' was the wrong word to use ..." Oh god what did she start. Was this a mistake? This was a mistake. But, she's not one to turn away from a challenge so she's at least here for the duration of her meal. "but sometimes even the best laid plans are ruined by unforeseen circumstances." Yes, she's talking about her own life, maybe, but she listens to him ramble and has to admit even she can find some truth to it.

She chuckles, a little at her own ridiculousness trying to control her life; she's always adapted because she had to, not because she wanted to. Thinking about what Junkrat is saying is definitely a change of pace for her.

"So you just ... do, whatever? How does that work out for you?"

"Sounds like someone needs a couch and an armchair!"

He's tempted to ask her to go on instead of being vague about it, but she's already beaten him to the punch.

"Oh, sure sure! Works out just fine, mate, never done me wrong. 'Course, I always been the kinda person that wants ta do somethin' because I was told that I can't, or shouldn't, but ta be perfectly honest? Beat of my own drum, always been."

She gives him a look at the implication that she needs therapy, but she could definitely benefit from it. Still, she's at least stable enough to function here. She lets it go without comment, though, poking at her food. She chuckles with his assessment.

"You and I have something in common, then; I don't like people telling me I'm not capable of something."

Ironic that the suggestion would come from Junkrat, of all people. He practically hops up - in his seat, no less.

"Ya know, I used'ta think that most people were like that! But I started traveling, meetin' different kinds'a people, and ya know what? Plenty'a people out there that prefer just being told what'ta do. Ain't that mental?"

What were they talking about again?

It's wisdom from an unexpected source, certainly, and while she's still dubious about his history. she finds his candor refreshing. If, at times, a little too honest.

"Everyone is different, I think it takes a certain kind of person to be comfortable forging their own path. A lot of people are afraid of what they don't know." Admittedly, she didn't really hang out with those kinds of people, but her experience in the military had found those more willing to follow orders and those more willing to give them. She herself had been on both sides of the platoon, so to speak.

Although she would hazard to guess Junkrat wasn't really the military type.

"Yeah! I've noticed!! Can ya imagine? Livin' like that?"

Junkrat's arms shoot outward, and in the process his fleshy one smacks against the wall the booth is butted up against, and while he does flinch in pain he doesn't let it trip up his momentum.

"Humans can only know so much. The world--the universe is full'a unknown things! If ya gonna be the kind ta be scared of things ya don't know, ya might as well lay down 'n cark it already! Hahahaha~"

He breaks out in laughter. It's hard to tell if he genuinely means it or is just saying that to ham it up.

(It's a mix of both.)

Junkrat holds onto the edge of the table, bouncing slightly in place like a restless toddler.

"But I like it. I like the unknown. There's always adventures ta be had in the unknown! Things ta find, people ta meet, discoveries ta be made! What's the point in keeping things the same all the time?"

Edited 2017-03-12 08:50 (UTC)

Oh, goodness. Fareeha actually recoils slightly, leaning back in her seat while trying to keep her expression neutral in response to his outburst.

"I don't know if people should, ah, 'cark it already' just because they have a healthy sense of self-preservation. It's a personal decision, you know? I don't think there's anything wrong with that way of thinking, it's just not how I operate."

"I dunno if y've noticed, mate, but I don't know the first thing about self-preservation."

At least he's honest. Junkrat holds up his metal prosthetic to make his point.

"But at the same time, I ain't gonna envy anyone that does. Nothing ventured, nothing gained! I ain't gonna be the one to hunt them down just 'cause they like followin' orders, unless those orders are ta come after me arse. Happens more than you'd think!"

Or maybe it happens exactly as often as she thinks it does; he still hasn't the slightest idea that she recognizes him.

She hopes to keep it a secret that she recognizes him - because he's probably going to find out at some point she's ex-military and former security. Even if she didn't have a hit on him personally, she probably knew someone who had a contract out somewhere for him and his friend -- Roadkill? No, wait ... Roadhog.

"Does it now? But you don't have to worry about that here, do you?"

He'd probably have laughed at the half-remembered name, if he'd heard it out loud.

"Um..."

Junkrat raps his fingers against the table, looking around at the sparsely populated mess hall as if he were suddenly panicked about someone watching him from the shadows.

"Not yet? I don't think anyone here recognizes me. Which is nice! Fresh start and all that. Not an opportunity ya get very often!"

If only he knew how wrong he was - on either point.

"No, it's really not. Especially if you're well know from your own world." She picks at her meal, maybe enjoying the fact that she's got the upper hand. "My mother was something of a celebrity; carrying her name was something of a challenge." You didn't join the military with the surname Amari and not hear about Overwatch's second in command and ace sniper.

"What do you plan to do with your newfound anonymity?"

There's a beat. He really doesn't want to answer that question, mostly because he doesn't know how to - only in the vaguest sense, the same that everyone else is under the pretense for if they took the offer to work for the League.

So it's time for an abrupt topic change.

"Tell me about her! I've never had much of a family, what's it like?"

He's successful in distracting her from her own question. She gives him a thinly veiled look of bewilderment, then focuses down on her food.

"I'm not sure we were the best example. Our relationship was ... complicated." And honestly not something she's about to open up to in front of a complete stranger who happens to be a known criminal. "I can tell you families can be as great as they are infuriating."

"If I thought yer relationship was perfect, mate, I wouldn't be askin' about it."

He gives her a lopsided yet genuine grin, and puts down his marker. Junkrat presses his hands together, folding his mismatched fingers between each other, resting his chin on them to show her his pure, undivided attention.

"Like I said, ya sound like ya need a couch and an armchair. I just happen ta be fresh out, but I'll do me best."

"No offense, but you don't exactly seem like a certified professional therapist." Nice try, Junkrat, but she's not falling for it. "What are you drawing there?" She taps at his notebook.

"Prototypes!"

Nope. Junkrat slams his hand down on the sketchbook to hide his work from view. It doesn't change the fact that it's been out for casual peeking this entire time -- it's a distraction now, and he won't have that!

"Wasn't tryin' to pitch meself as one," he replies honestly. "Sometimes ya just need a friend. Or just an ear to chew on. Secret's safe with me, promise."

Fareeha sits up, startled by his sudden dedication to hiding his sketchbook, but now that he's made it clear it's not a viable topic of conversation she'll settle back in her seat.

But, neither is she giving in on her own hesitance to open up. "Or sometimes, you need to mind your own business." Never mind that she's the one that instigated conversation in the first place. "We can talk about something else, how do you like the accommodations here?"

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