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
"Technically? It is." Hers too, for the time being. They're space-time refugees with useful skillsets to their names, and that means that unless they feel like trying their luck working menial jobs out in the depths of space with a target on their heads, this is the better option.
Plus it's not like it'll last forever.
"Anyway the Legion's big on second chances. Who knows, might not take you more than a month or two to convince people to let it go." It'll be hard at first, but he's always been resilient. One of the perks to living out his days in an irradiated wasteland.
"—if you can make it that long without killing anyone."
no subject
"They oughtta! Stringin' me along like I'd just got here. Thinkin' I'd put down me guard!"
Well, it worked, if the pointed lack of artillery on him is any indication. Junkrat lurches forward and takes this stranger by the shoulders, leaning forward to get eye-to-eye with her. His manic expression could be any number of things...but it's mostly panic.
"And what about Roadhog, huh? No second chances for him, I reckon. Too busy havin' his brains painted on a wall, roight? Thick skull like his--ain't gonna survive somethin' like that, no way. No way. And here I am, workin' for the bastards that killed him!! No killing. Bunch'a hypocrites!! They'll soon figure out the grave mistake of putting Jamison Fawkes in a pressurized spaceship, all it takes is one airlock, that'll show 'em ta play me like a fool--"
Like a stone at terminal velocity hitting the ground, his ranting comes to an abrupt stop. Junkrat, with his hands still on her shoulders, holds her out at arm's length, one brow quirked curiously.
"...Do I know you, mate? I can't shake the feelin' I've met ya before."
no subject
But from there her lips draw up into a thin, thoughtful line— she'd spent the entirety of the last mission attempting (and more than that, even) attempting to mask her own identity, even from him. And knowing him, how his mind works in theory and practice, she has to decide whether or not he gets to know the truth.
"You mean aside from what just happened?" Another beat, a moment spent focusing her stare on his own. "No."
no subject
Junkrat backs off, unsure what to do with himself now. So if he's not dead, then...there's a chance he'll show up here eventually too. One beat later and he's hoisted himself up on the railing, sitting on it and swinging his full leg back and forth.
"Still haven't figured out what they want me here for," he finally says, voice low and honest now that his brain has had a moment to throttle some of that velocity. "I have a pretty specific skillset, and it usually doesn't save peoples' lives."
Not that he's ever taken any jobs specifically to kill people. One, it's not that fun, and two, headhunting is too dangerous. In fact, he's pretty sure he's only ever gone after people who came at him first.
"I feel bad I can't remember their name."
Because apparently he wants to have two conversations at the same time.
no subject
She slips over to lean on the railing beside him, forearms braced, attention pointedly wandering. If she regrets not telling him the truth about her identity, it's sure as hell not showing. Not registering. Jamison's mind is a sieve, a glass jar full of marbles and it wouldn't take much at all on a bad day for all his secrets to come tumbling out.
That's a risk she's not willing to take. Not right now.
"You can remember mine instead, if you're ready to try this again from the beginning." There's a glance angled over her shoulder towards him, vivid blue catching the light. "Azúcar."
no subject
"Sugar?" he asks, almost immediately. For all of his sieve-like memory, he sure knows how to hang onto languages. Whatever he was hung up on, this revelation was enough to cheer him up. "Aw, that's cute! I like it."
He holds out a metal arm, as if this is the point where they needed to shake hands.
freeeedom
Her hand is warm around that cool metal - she doubts he feels it. "You still going by...what was it, Junkrat?"
no subject
These are, after all, hands that still make things.
"Sure!" he responds cheerfully. "No point in changin' it up if everyone knows my face anyhoo. Besides, it's the name I chose -- the name I've been workin' on fer years, tryin'ta turn it into a household name. Too much sentmental value ta leave it behind."
no subject
A beat, and then, mildly: "If you ever change your mind."
no subject
He'd rather stay on the planet he wasn't done exploring. He'd rather...know where the hell Roadhog was. Lots of this stuff wasn't his decision to make.
"...Why, ya got somethin' in mind?"
He's all ears, even if he is terribly attached to his name.
no subject
"'Batman' could be a good one."
no subject
"I think..."
Another beat.
"...I think that one's already taken, mate."
It's like he's not even quite sure of it either.
no subject
no subject
Junkrat pulls his mouth into a petulant frown, crossing his arms over his chest indignantly.
"Just because I'm forgetful doesn't mean I'm stupid."
He's not actually as upset as it might seem -- he's just hamming it up, as usual. Junkrat has the feeling that she's just trying to take the piss anyway.
no subject
Ah.
There's a mural on the ceiling.
(Of course there's a mural on the ceiling— there are murals everywhere in this place.)
"Aquaman."
Guess what mural is up there. Go on. Guess.
no subject
"Okay, so--first things first. I don't want 'man' in me name. Think it's pretty self-evident that I'm a bloke, I don't need the reaffirmation. Second, I ain't got nothin' ta do with water! Ya came up with a cute name for yerself, stop givin' me garbage ta work with."
A beat.
"Actually, now that I think about it, they said somethin' about superpowers when I first got here, but I haven't the slightest what they are. I ain't got any eye beams and I can't blow things up with me mind -- trust me, I've tried -- and while it's probably some hidden ability or whatever it'd probably be best ta figure it out before it's too late and why are ya still starin' at the ceiling?!"
He cranes his neck back and looks up to see what's caught her attention.
Junkrat groans out a sigh.