Unbind Me
“Unbind Me” - your character freeing mine, or the other way around, or something among the lines.
It was not the rarest of occasions. In his life spent on acts of violence and terror, Junkrat had understandably made himself an impressive collective of individuals who could be considered enemies. What was left of the concept of justice within the irradiated wastelands of the Outback was undoubtedly dished out harsh and cold. Which, to the crooked Junker rat, was becoming more and more apparent as his time spent strung tightly against a rusted metal pike played out. He wasn’t entirely sure on which of his various crusades of destruction had miffed this specific gang of Junker cutthroats, but it had clearly made them feel the need to plan for his own torture and inevitable brandishing of his corpse to all who passed their settlement a few hops behind. With the appearance of a circling flock of mangy vultures growing ever so closer, the bomber squirmed desperately under his constraints. A crude combination of frayed rope, chains, and barbed wire encircled his gaunt abdomen, holding him in his place about 15 feet in the air. It was only now his frenzy had begun to slow, as he could feel the barbs of the wire surrounding him begin to scratch and dig into his harshly sunburnt skin. Thin streams of blood trickled slowly down his dirtied stomach and stained his scruffy shorts, a vivid red contrast within the dusty landscape. Grunting in pain, he gave a final attempt to reason with his captors. “Righty right! I-I get it! My bad, mates! Oi promise ya, no more trouble from me. Jus’ let me down an’ I’ll be out of yer sights. Yessir!” A forced chuckled came from the hanged man, followed by a low curse at the barbs that continued to tear at his chest. Wherever the lynching squad was, they certainly didn’t have the time to hear his cries for mercy. Through his desperation, he had barely noticed the hulking mass that became ever-so closer within his sun-blinded vision. Scruffy eyebrows rocketed upwards, his squinted bloodshot eyes peering desperately down at the emotionless black face that had made itself visible. It was undeniably Roadhog. “A-Ah! Oi! Roadie, that you?” Junkrat called, his chirping of a voice shaky and wheezing. A thick gruff came from the figure, a burly arm raising slightly to brandish his large hook in the sunlight. “Thank Mary, ya came at the roight time! Quick, quick, get me down will ya?” No significant response followed from his companion, only a concrete stare that had fixated on him and his situation. In the silence that followed, Junkrat scoffed impatiently, his legs beginning to kick at the pole behind him as his expression scrunched up into a scowl. “Oh- c’mon ya thick lug! They’ll spot ya if yer jus’ gonna stand there an’ gawk!” Again, nothing came from the large man below, his huffing breath radiating from the snout of his adornment being the only sound he made. Junkrat’s irritated leer began to fall into a slight quirk of confusion. His apparent savior seemed to only observe rather than act, despite his pleading. Then, a low rumbling voice came from below. “I do not want to work for you if you’re going to be killed this easily.” His free hand waved yonder as he continued. “Plenty o’more work more worthy than saving a damsel in distress.” Junkrat, in his current position, could only give a small cock of the head. “W-Wot ya goin’ on about? We made a deal- didn’t we?” Panic began to boil up within him. “Ya betta’ not be ponderin’ on leavin’ me ‘ere, ya meaty bastard! I ‘init jus’ hire ya to leave me to the birds!” Roadhog gave the familiar response in return. With another guttural grunt, he turned slowly on his heel to begin lumbering back from where he came. At the sight, Junkrat’s shouting began to quickly devolve into that of a pathetic whine, realizing that this could very well be his final day if his companion truly intended to leave him exposed to the elements like this. “Listen ‘ere ya stinkin’ heifer, so help me I’ll come down there an’ blow yer arms off!” With this threat came a violent jerk of his abdomen, the layers of twisted sharp wire cutting terribly deep wounds into his upper body. Junkrat yelped in agony. Swallowing back the remainder of his cursing, he let his body fall limp. The blood now dripped down his thighs and off the metal length of his prosthetic leg. Moaning out in defeat, he whimpered to his only companion. “R-Roadhog- look- I-I’ll be more careful, ya ‘ear me? Stay outta’ trouble… like ya said. Yeah?” The pig of a man came to a stop, his hook still clenched in his fleshy hand. His head turned sideways, a single piercing eye from behind glass lingering on the hanging man. For a moment, it had met Junkrat’s desperate reddened face. He had lost any trace of the regular clouded musings, or childish anger that it normally showcased. Perhaps, for once the singed madman was attempting to show a genuine sense of reasoning that was rare for him. After all, he was about to be fodder for the birds who would sooner or later begin picking him to a hanging ornament of bones. “Consider this a warning, Jamison…” Roadhog grumbled, taking a step closer. “I’d prefer to keep this a steady income.” He added, reeling his hook back far behind him and casting it upwards. The hook sank itself amongst the layers of chains and wire with an alarming proximity to Junkrat’s shoulder. The restrained man offered a relieved toothy grin before being yanked downwards with brute force. With a sickening thud, he had slid down the length of the pike and onto his bottom. Roadhog’s dirtied fingers slipped themselves tighter amongst the loops of the chains, giving a final thrust backwards against the prison of scrap metal, which gave in with a flurry of force. Once the slight plume of dust cleared, a bloodied and frail Junkrat wobbled up onto his legs. “Ya got my thanks, mate…” He spoke, out of breath, giving a light nod of the head and a smirk on his cracked lips.
