Being new was never exactly fun–the new kid at school, the new guy at work, and now the new recruit at an illegal former government task force. However, Jak, AKA Agent Madman, was a veryadaptable person, and thrived in the unknown, so there was no doubt in mind everything would be fine. Annoyingly awkward at first, sure, but everything would work out in the end. They always seemed to, after all.
So Hangar One was where he was told to wait–someone would be waiting to show him around, someone who he apparently he had “a lot in common with”, which essentially meant they wereeccentric, rebellious, or just plain off the wall.
What Jak wasn’t expecting, though, was to see an idol. His eyes sparkling, he immediately waved, greeting the other.
❝Holy [BLEEP], ya really the Junkrat, in the flesh!? This why the crime trail stopped cold recently!?❞
Well, that was an unexpected reaction. Fans were few and far between, especially in a place like this, and he felt his classic grin finally tug at his lips again. Pulling his mismatched hands from his pockets, he spread them wide with a flourish, twirling his fingers and inclining his head in a prideful bow.
A chuckle. “Mostly flesh, mate.”
As he approaches the other man, he realises that he’s practically Roadie’s height, and stops short as to not crane his neck. “That’s right. This lot offered me an’ Hog a bargain ‘bout a year ago now. Stop th’large-scale heists until the cops get off our backs, an’ we can hole up here. Pretty good, eh?”
With a shrug, he extends his prosthetic hand to the other man, and a wiggle of his fingers makes them click. “Jamison Fawkes, at yer service. An’ yerself?”
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