Chapter Text
The Outback was a terrible place to wander in.
The beating rays of the desert sun burned against Junkrat's shoulders. He didn't know how long he'd been walking, or where he was, or where he was headed. Shouldn't have been walking out in the daylight but he could hardly bring himself to care anymore. All he knew was don't turn back, keep walking, and avoid anyone bipedal with anything resembling a weapon in their hands.
While he wasn't really paying attention to the passage of time, judging by the night and day cycle, he'd escaped Junkertown about a week ago, or maybe two weeks. He'd lost count honestly. Some time after his initial discovery at the ruins of the Omnium, word had started to spread around, hushed whispers about his treasure. The folks back home were none too pleased with him. Sneering his way while he walked down the streets, lingering just a little too close while he was out scavenging, and even a few physical confrontations that ended with Junkrat chucking a grenade at the cretins and speeding in the other direction.
That's what happens when you run your mouth, idiot.
The townspeople were pissed, pissed that he was keeping all the goods to himself.
He bolted the minute he saw the small yet persistent mob of Junkers approaching his dingy old shack, leaving town in the dead of night with only the clothes on his back, his bag of scavenged goods, and the location of the treasure embedded in his scatterbrain.
He ran. He ran until the angry screams and stomping of rusted metal boots and worn shoes no longer reached his ears. He jogged until the town disappeared from the horizon. He walked until his peg leg threatened to give out underneath him. He limped until he collapsed into a small patch of brush, exhausted and out of breath and hidden from sight. Then he was out cold. By the time morning came, the sun turned the reddish sand burning hot and illuminated his surroundings. Rock formations and flat orange plains as far as the eyes could see. No Omnium ruins, no rusty old buildings, no scrap heaps, and, as much as he'd hated them now, no people bustling about around him.
He was alone.
A rumbling in his gut brought him back to the present, jerking his attention away from the unchanging horizon. He'd been on foot for days, mostly travelling in the cover of night. Sometimes during the day when the cold of night got to him. Always on the move. He rubbed a soot-covered hand across his stomach, deeply regretting his choice of finishing the last of his kangaroo jerky the night before. He still had MRI meals on standby, but he knew he needed to ration his already dwindling food supply. Strange, really. He could've sworn he packed enough grub to last him weeks.
Junkrat scanned the area for something, anything, to eat. Sand, sand, more blasted sand. He wasn't going to resort to that. Not yet, at least.
His eyes landed on a pygmy goanna skittering across the ground. It's light brown skin and white spots contrasted against the warm, red sand. A sly smile splayed across his cracked lips.
Junkrat moved in for the kill. He maintained a fair enough distance between him and his soon-to-be-snack, one where he can see the little bugger without startling it. He watched as the lizard scuttled towards a nearby rock and wriggled its way to the top. It sat there, perched on the smooth surface. Junkrat circled around it, hoping to sneak up from behind. He took a few steps forward, slow, careful...
The little creature twisted around, met with the hungry, wild gaze of the scrawny man. It tilted its head a bit, almost teasing. Its beady black eyes stared at Junkrat. Daring.
He took a step forward and his peg leg creaked loudly underneath him. He quickly brought a hand up to his lips, shushing the noise, before realizing what he was doing; shushing himself. If I don't get something to eat I'm gonna go batty.
The lizard tensed upon hearing the sounds and jumped off the rock, quickly scurrying away in the opposite direction. Junkrat stood there in shock, staring at the barren stone. Shock turned to hunger-fueled anger.
"GET BACK HERE YOU LITTLE-"
He hobbled after the lizard, leaping over the rock and trying to catch up to it. It was damn fast, and he followed it for a good fifty metres before he started to tire out. His peg leg creaked with each step, his mouth curled into a menacing snarl, and his stomach constricted due to the stress of catching the damn thing. But he wasn't about to give up that easily.
He tried a number of different tactics. At first, he put a little more distance between him and goanna until it stopped running, then snuck up behind it like the first time. Didn't work, it got alerted by his presence and sped away. Then he tried to outrun it and cut it off but his peg leg was starting to buckle and creak and he knew that if it broke then he'd pretty much be good as dead out here. Finally, after many failed attempts, he decided to just lob a 'nade at it and blow it's legs off, despite his bomb supply being at an all time low. His eyes lit up at the explosion, turning the already amber colour into a more fiery shade.
He loved feeling the wave after the boom.
The bomb flung the lizard high into the air, and it landed on the sand with a thud. Surprisingly, it didn't lose any limbs so he had to act fast. Junkrat wasted no time and dove after it, cupping the lizard in his hands, letting out a victorious cackle. He tightened the grip around the animal as it squirmed, and quickly slid a hand around its neck and torso. The poor thing tried biting at him, tried to wiggle from his grasp, but he kept a firm hold on it. "Gave me a lot of trouble there, little guy," he giggled, his grip becoming tighter and tighter. The lizard spasmed violently as the air slowly escaped from its tiny lungs. It twitched one last time before going limp in his hands. Junkrat sighed with contentment, bringing the goanna close to his mouth, teeth bared and ready to tear into its skin. He paused, shaking himself out of it. He'd build a fire later to cook it.
He pocketed the creature, feeling it wriggle and squirm around in his bag post-mortem. He kept walking, and walking. He'd walk to the edge of this continent, or until his legs fell off. Whichever came first.
Had to get a vehicle, a.s.a.p.
He found an empty cave system and set up camp at the mouth. Got the fire started in no time. He took the goanna out of its prison and laid it out on a nearby rock. Dinner was scant tonight, but he could manage. He paused, eyes scanning. He picked up the lizard. Licked his lips. Something in the distance caught his attention.
Something wasn't right...
It was too quiet.
The large mutated cicadas had stopped calling out to each other from the sparse eucalyptus trees. Those damn things were the size of his forearm and they never shut up. So naturally, the absence of their irritating buzzing made Junkrat's ears feel empty.
He didn't like this. The sun was at its highest and the bugs weren't supposed to stop their incessant noise until the sun dipped low into the horizon. Something, or someone, must have startled them away.
His neck twitched as footsteps slowly approached him. He just froze there, on his knees, clutching the goanna tightly as a large shadow loomed over him. He was starting to regret wasting that bomb to catch this thing. For damn sure he was going to need more than three bombs to finish these guys off. And, ah shit, he had used the last of his concussion mines yesterday to snatch a honeycomb from high above in the trees, so that was out of the question. He was thinking, thinking of a way to get out of this, a way to avoid using up his arsenal. Think, think, think.
A low chuckle made Junkrat's shoulders tense up, and he snapped his neck around to face the source.
He saw the glint of metal first. Makeshift metal armour, metal and rubber masks that covered half their faces, metal weapons... He gulped.
Junkers. They were goddamn Junkers. Four of them. They surrounded him like directions on a compass.
They found him. How the fuck did they find him? Hadn't he been careful-?
Another chuckle escaped from the man he faced, low and laced with madness. "Fancy running into you out 'ere, 'Rat." He opened and closed the garden shears in his hand, revealing a toothy grin with missing teeth. "How's the Outback been?"
Junkrat shakily stood up from his place, his peg leg dug into the rough sand. What he lacked in strength he made up for through sheer height alone. Even with a missing calf and foot, he towered over the men. He saw a brief flash of intimidation across their faces before they contorted back into hungry, greedy snarls.
Despite his situation, Junkrat couldn't help but laugh, though there was a hint of nervousness in his voice, "Cut to the chase, mate. I know what you really want." He slowly reached into his back pocket, feeling for the familiar smooth surface of his grenade. Not yet, he told himself, not yet. Humour them.
The leader stepped in closer, exposing the blades of his weapon dangerously close to Junkrat's face. "Then get on with it, Scavenger. Tell us where the damn treasure is!"
He was only looking at the leader, but Junkrat could feel the others closing in on him.
Now.
He brought a hand up to pull off the pin of the grenade. He was just about ready to toss it right in this wankers face and make a quick getaway, hopefully avoiding the rest of his men in the process. But before the pin could be fully removed, he was struck across the back of the head.
It was hard and sharp, and only when he collapsed onto the ground did he see that it was a nail-bat, the tips of the rusty nails dripping with his own blood. He let out a long wail, only to be cut off by a spiked metal boot stomping across his chest. The air was knocked out of him, and he writhed under the force of the man holding the bat leering over his injured form.
"Nuh uh uh, 'Rat," said the leader, though Junkrat couldn't see him. He couldn't see much of anything at this point. His ears were ringing, his head felt like splitting open, and black spots danced across his hazy vision. The man spoke up again, "We'll make you talk, you pathetic excuse for a Junker, no matter what it takes."
Junkrat's head painfully lolled to the side, and he could see that a pool of blood was already forming, soaked up by the surrounding sand. He was disoriented and he could barely see as he tried to focus his eyes on something moving in front of him.
The goanna. It stirred from its supposed death and squirmed until it regained its footing. It's little head shot upright, it's legs positioned in a sturdy stance as it stared at Junkrat with beady little eyes. It tilted it's head again, as if to say, ha, that's what you get you lizard-killing bastard. With one last flick of the tongue, the goanna spun around and skittered away to freedom, it's little feet leaving behind dark red marks in the sand.
One more stomp to the chest, then everything went dark.