Chapter Text
The sun sat high in the sky, unsurprisingly bringing the height of heat for the day. The air rang with the sound of bugs, big and ugly and calling to each other from the branches of the sparse eucalyptus, along with the sound of heatwaves rising from the coarse desert ground.
Hidden in the shade of an abandoned rest stop, Junkrat sat, slouched against a dirty wall, trying desperately to stay awake, twitching occasionally to bring himself back to vigilance as he caught himself nodding off. Being on the run had been terrible on his already awful sleep schedule, and partnered with the sluggish summer air, it was becoming harder and harder to keep conscious. Even with the scattering of mines and booby traps hastily scattered around the gas station, peace of mind didn’t come to the barely lucid Junker. Ever since he’d stumbled upon the diamond in the rough he had found in the heart of the Omnium, rest had become a distant luxury.
That’s what’cha get for running your mouth, he chided himself, jerking out of slumber once again. He wished the sun would dip below the horizon already, it was impossible to travel during the day in the middle of January in the Outback. Darkness brought stealth and cool air, made it easier to trek across the Bush without passing out from heatstroke or attracting attention.
He rummaged in his sack and found a few little round fruits, bright red and just a little dirty from sharing space with his tools. In an effort to keep awake, he took a careful bite of one of the quondongs, wrinkling his nose as he shifted against the hard concrete. Just a couple more hours, he reminded himself. He peeled the flesh from the fruit and tossed the nut against one of the abandoned fuel pumps. Night couldn’t come soon enough.
A very loud, very near, explosion woke him up with a start, Junkrat panicked as he floundered to remember who he was and where he was at. He didn’t know when exactly he had passed out, but the sky was only now starting to turn orange as the sun grew closer to the edge of the sky. His heart was still threatening to break out of his ribcage as he scrambled for his grenade launcher, bleary-eyed and not entirely awake yet as he attempted to get to his feet. One of the grenade bouquets must have gone off, he figured. Whatever had tripped the wire must still be alive, there was a lack of death-cries and he heard a heavy scuffling coming from the diner part of the rest stop. “Alroight! Alright, show yourself,” he drawled, gun pointed at the doorway that led to the other side of the gas station. But nothing appeared, and the sound of bugs was once again all that the Junker could hear. He blinked slowly, then lowered his launcher after a solid minute of glaring at the empty doorway.
He huffed.
“Must’ve been a ding--”
His conclusion remained unspoken, a strangled cry of surprise escaping him instead as a large figure bounded through the previously unoccupied space, tackled him in an instant, and held him pinned to the wall by his neck.
The grenade launcher was dropped in the moment of struggle, Junkrat couldn’t see it, but he heard it scrape against the concrete floor as it was kicked away. Normally, he would have been absolutely livid about someone touching his beloved weaponry, but he was just slightly preoccupied with the vice-like grip around his throat and the sound of a very, very angry someone attached to the hand around his windpipe.
The lack of air must’ve been getting to him, because he swore that he was being attacked by a monster with a pig face.
“Holy shit,” he wheezed, hands flying to scratch at the biggest fucking arm he’d ever fucking seen. The monster replied by tightening its grip, and Junkrat kicked his legs, prosthetic hitting what felt like flesh, then digging into the bugger’s bulk as he tried to lift himself up in order to breathe.
“You almost killed me, you little shit,” a deep voice roared accusingly from the hulk of what he now identified as a really big man. “Give me one reason why I shouldn’t snap your neck.”
Junkrat slapped at the hand, gurgling as darkness threatened to blot out his vision, bells ringing in his ears.
“Well?” The pig-man bellowed, lifting the scrawny Junker even further off the ground.
“I’ll pay you!,” he tried to shout, but it came out as a hoarse excuse for a whisper.
“The fuck did you say?” The boar of a human snarled, grip tightening just a fraction more before he shoved Junkrat harder into the wall, and Christ, Junkrat thought he was about to die. But his attacker released him and let him crumple to the floor in a pile of limbs and heaving chest.
Junkrat clasped his hands over his neck, lungs burning and skin on fire, but breathing and alive, at least for the moment.
“Fifty-fifty,” he gasped again, scampering a few feet back as he shied away from the giant that had started to reach for him again. “I’ve got something--, Somethin’ good and worth more than a fuckin’ country,” coughing, he looked for his bag, his gun, anything. “It’s worth more than me life,” he wheezed as the pig man planted a boot on his chest, pinning him to the ground.
“Fucksake, you ugly shitarsed bastard,” Junkrat hissed, then yelped as the boot ground down. “Fuckin’-- Let me go!”
The other man peered down at him as the rat scrabbled against the floor, masked face barely visible, obstructed behind his gut.
“You’re that kid that found something in the Omnium,” rumbled the behemoth, a statement more than a question.
“Yeh, yeah, that’s fuckin’ me, but I ain’t got it on me so killin’ me ain’t going to get you shit,” he spat out in reply, but he was grinning now, teeth showing and sharp, brows knit and eyes wild.
The big lug stared down for a few seconds longer, anger seemingly quelled. He lifted his foot, and Junkrat quickly clambered away and onto his feet.
“Good choice,” he wheeze-laughed, hand displaying a previously hidden grenade.
The giant man let out a disgruntled snort.
“Yeah, that’s what I fuckin’ thought, ya cock.”
“Fifty-fifty,” The oaf rumbled out.
“I told you, I don’t have the shit on me.” Junkrat sneered as he rubbed at his throat. “Fuckin’ tits on a boar,” he spat vehemently. “What’s your fuckin’ problem?”
The larger man tilted his head, probably eyeing him through the tinted lenses of his gas mask. “You’re not going anywhere” he finally grunted. “Not without me. Not until you pay up.”
Junkrat showed his teeth again, “Then make use of those ham-fists and keep me alive if you want your damned half.”
The mountain of a man let out a deep round of laughter, more sadistic than amused.
“Deal.”