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It wasn’t the first time that Roadhog wondered how in the hell he managed to land a partner like the crazy, explosion-happy madman like Junkrat.
The junker is more like an undisciplined brat than the grown man he was supposed to be. He is volatile, unpredictable, and likes blowing shit up for fun. That in itself wouldn’t bother Roadhog one bit. The Outback wasn’t short of madmen running around shooting up whatever they can, and starting as many fights as they can get away with. It was a lawless land after all, out there; and it wasn’t that much different inside Junkertown. Brawls were common, theft more so, and murder - well they have one every week, and two or three of things get crazy. It was nothing special.
However, the way Junkrat carries on is more than ridiculous. If he doesn’t pay attention for a minute he could find the junker starting fights left and right, and when things get ugly - which in Junkertown is sooner than later - he throws bombs at his problems. Sometimes Roadhog wonders how the kid survived as long as he did. Probably it was thanks to his bombs; they aren’t shabby at all.
Not to mention that Junkrat was loud, obnoxious, talked big, and worst of all, he got on the nerves of everybody in the Outback. Sometimes that even involved Roadhog as well.
Thankfully, he was more than adept at tuning him out.
It is some comfort that despite what he seems, Junkrat is not half bad when it came to his passion. His bombs were quite something and his traps were a nasty surprise for anybody who snooped around where the junker didn’t want them to be.
Maybe that’s why Roadhog allowed the kid to hang around. Or more like he didn’t have any choice, after the two became partners the other Junker made himself at home in his shack. Roadhog only shrugged, it was more an annoyance than anything else.
Junkrat talked a lot, mostly to himself, sometimes at Roadhog. He didn’t even need to answer, Junkrat was more than happy to fill in his part of the conversation. Which was all fine by him as he reread his books for the millionth time. Meanwhile, Junkrat would thinker away in the corner. He basically took over that part of the building.
Roadhog got used to it. He got used to it way too fast.
He was used to being alone in the wake of the apocalypse. The silence was something that he found respite in, and he could distract himself with old books and magazines - even if all of them were about a world long since gone. Nobody bothered him, and if they dared he put a short end to them.
With Junkrat that changed. He was fidgety and demanded attention - unless Roadhog wanted his home blown up.
“Nice place you got here, mate,” Junkrat said the first time he put a foot into the shack, then proceeded to look through everything Roadhog owned.
Sometimes he wondered if having half of this treasure was actually worth it. Heck, he wasn’t even sure if the thing was real, to begin with. After Junkrat got accosted in the bar, and the two of them became partners, he learned to shut up about his treasure. Roadhog actually thought that he forgot about it - the other junker even forgot once who Roadhog was after spending a week with him. That was another Junkrat-thing, Roadhog learned to navigate around it.
Other junkers didn’t forget about Junkrat’s treasure, however. But with Roadhog around they thought twice to make a move. Only the desperate and the delusional dared to bother them. They took care of them. Roadhog could easily hook them and snap their necks or shoot them full of holes with his scrap gun. And that was only if they were lucky and they didn’t get caught in one of Junkrat’s traps.
“I don’t even know why they are after me! What did I ever do to them, hu?” Junkrat said after they made sure another idiot won’t be returning to Junkertown.
“It’s your treasure they want, Rat,” Roadhog said, one of the rare times he talked to the other junker. Junkrat is already the only person he had spoken more than five sentences to.
“Treasure?! Nobody was talking about no treasure, mate!” he panicked. “Nobody!”
“You yapped about it enough.”
“What do you know,” he huffed like a child. Roadhog only grunted and went back to his book.
Junkrat fumed some more, he then brought that energy to making more bombs - bigger and better ones, or so he claimed. Roadhog didn’t pay attention for one second and then Junkrat was outside blowing up rocks and trash.
When the sun fell he came inside. Roadhog made dinner, and Junkrat clumsily helped. He was no good at it. Somehow, that didn't surprise Roadhog - it did make him question just how he survived for so long.
He was better at bringing food home though.
That was a surprise. Roadhog expected them to have issues with food since whatever he had in store now had to be split in two and will run out twice as fast. But to his surprise, Junkrat proves to be competent. Whenever he wasn’t making his bombs, tinkering with his prosthetics, or bothering Roadhog, he was out scavenging all sorts of things. He brought home all kinds of scrap, canned food - definitely stolen or bartered for - or freshly killed animals like lizards and rabbits.
It became somewhat of a routine - something disturbingly domestic that Roadhog didn’t want to think about. He still counted his blessings. He had long since learned to live day by day, having somebody with him to share the workload was simultaneously alien and a relief.
One day Junkrat went out. He only said ‘be back later, mate’ and he was off.
Roadhog didn’t think much of it at first. It was like any time he wandered off into the Outback or snuck his way back into Junkertown.
The whole day passed in silence but Roadhog got this weird feeling in his gut that something was going to happen. He knew better than to dismiss his instincts. Being paranoid keeps you alive out here.
The attack never came, but neither did Junkrat's arrival back.
Roadhog didn’t worry. It was his own damn fault if he got hurt out there. That’s what being stupid got you, a whole load of pain. But the junker was his partner now, more so, Roadhog was his damned bodyguard, and that was something he didn’t intend to forget. Virtue wouldn’t get you far here, not anymore, but Roadhog still valued loyalty. Loyalty to a cause, to a job, heck even a half-crazed man you call your partner. And if you are worth your money, you must act on your values.
The sun was already setting. If he wanted any hope of finding Junkrat he should get out there and start looking.
He took his hook and his scrap gun and headed out into the Outback.
Luck seemed to be on his side as he found Junkrat relatively fast. The sun was still up, so that was something. He didn’t wander far from the shack, he was wandering around what used to be an old gas station with some other buildings around. Who knows what they were, all of it has been reduced to rubble anyway with only the gas station still holding out. Roadhog for a moment wondered what he was doing here, this place was picked clean ages ago, and there was nothing but trash to be found.
Junkrat was still picking through it, searching and searching.
Roadhog wordlessly approached him and waited for the junker to notice him. Spooking him would only earn him a bomb to the face. He expected to find him blowing shit up, and judging by the empty harness he might have been just doing that. He was sure that if he looked close enough he could find the blast sights.
It took Junkrat a disturbingly long time to notice the bigger junker looming in the background. If Roadhog was anybody else they could have taken a good shot at him and Junkrat wouldn’t have even reacted.
“Oh, I know you!” Junkrat said in surprise. “Do I? Never mind. This is a dump, let’s get out of here, mate.”
Roadhog remained silent. He regarded the junker for a long time. His attention disturbed Junkrat.
“What are you looking at?” he snapped at Roadhog. “Shut it, drongo. What are you doing here, anyway?”
Roadhog didn’t answer.
“Nothing! I wasn’t doing anything!” Junkrat ranted. “Just looking around. Stop putting words into my mouth, mate. You are being mighty rude, you know that?”
“For the whole day?” Roadhog asked finally.
Junkrat jumped as if he forgot that the other junker could talk - Roadhog wouldn’t be surprised if he did.
“The fuck are you on about? No, just looking, that’s all. A couple of minutes ain’t a crime.”
“Sun is setting.”
Junkrat looked up at the sky and then to the horizon where he found the sun just dipping under the desert sand. He stared at it with his mouth hanging open for a long time.
“Oh…” he only said. “Ain’t right.”
“Let’s get back,” Roadhog grabbed him by the arm determined to make Junkrat go back with him.
Junkrat jumped away jerking his arm away. “Don’t you fucking touch me, mate! Don’t you know who I am?! I’m the great Jamison Fawks!”
“Junkrat…”
“Damn fucking right!”
“...”
“What?”
“...”
“You are right, mate. We should go back.”
Junkrat pushed past him and marched right back in the shack’s direction. Roadhog shook his head and followed, he chalked this up as another one of those Junkrat-things. God knows the junker was messed up in the head, he was acting erratic on the best of days. As they walked Roadhog could hear him muttering about something, although it was too quiet for him to make it out. But he seemed mad, or at least upset. Maybe he wanted to spend some time alone and Roadhog rudely interrupted him. In that case, he can keep being mad. He is going to think twice before he worries about the junker ever again.
They made dinner. It was slim, barely enough to chase away their hunger. Junkrat was silent throughout. Roadhog wouldn’t say it out loud, but it worried him.
Junkrat curled up on his mattress in the opposite corner of the room. Roadhog was reading, determined not to fall asleep before the other junker.
He was fully prepared to read in silence the whole night when Junkrat suddenly sat up.
“Listen, mate, since you asked- sorry okay,” he said mostly mumbling. Roadhog was happy that his hearing was still good.
“I was a right cunt, didn’t mean to,” he said. “It’s just… didn’t mean to lose track of time. It just slipped away, ya know, and I slipped right along. It’s simple, really. Everybody gets like that.”
Roadhog wanted to say that no, that’s not a thing, but he kept it to himself.
“So you don’t get mad,” he pointed a finger at him like he lecturing him. “It’s normal, I’m telling you.”
Roadhog didn’t comment and Junkrat congratulated himself and plopped back down. In a couple of minutes, he was snoring peacefully.
It was strange, but strange was nothing new for Junkrat. Roadhog didn’t know what got into the junker, but he made note of it just in case something would happen later. This crazy bastard was his responsibility after all.
It still kept him up at night.
You didn’t need to be a genius to notice something wrong with Junkrat - everybody calls him a crazy cunt for a reason. You can find many people like him running around so that wasn’t anything new either. Radiation, always came down to it - and if it’s not that then a number of different things junker-life can throw at you. It was something that Roadhog ignored for the longest time.
This is the world they have created, and that was that. There is no changing that.
The next day, Junkrat woke bright and early and piratically bouncing off the walls, as if yesterday didn’t happen.
“Hey, where are me bombs at?” Junkrat tapped his harness in confusion after putting it on. “Roadie, have you seen where me bombs went? You took ‘em?”
Roadhog just grunted. Junkrat shrugged and went right into making replacements.
For a moment, things seemed to go back to normal. Or at least to the normal that Junkrat brought along as he moved in. Roadhog wasn't dumb enough to think things will become easier. In fact, his gut told him that they are only going to become more complicated.
With a grunt, he got up and went about his way to make breakfast.