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funkymeihem-fiction · 6 years ago

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Special Delivery- Meihem Drabbles

They’d been waiting for fucking hours since setting up. The caravan was supposed to reach the canyon around 10 AM, he knew, because he’d been the only one stupid enough to eavesdrop on that fancy-looking Suit in the Junkertown bar, the one meeting one of the Queen’s own, a Big Boss. The Suit had been intelligent enough to keep his voice low. But the Big Boss, a junker true blue- he’d had volume problems. Much like Junkrat himself, really. So when the Big Boss had blurted out about ‘something special’ arriving by canyon caravan this morning, right before The Suit had shushed him, Junkrat had managed to overhear enough.

But now it was nearly 2 in the fucking afternoon, so where the hell was it? He was sure this must have been the right spot. Unless he’d forgotten something. He hoped not. It had been a while since their last big score, and there was nothing wrong with adding some new funds to the trove.

Roadhog, who may or may not have been fast asleep with his back propped up against a canyon wall, was breathing deeply and rasping through the filters of his mask. The sound was grating and steady and was rapidly getting on his younger partner’s nerves. He had gotten bored about two hours BEFORE 10, and now they were well past due and he was ready to call it and head home, empty-handed or not.

Junkrat paced back and forth, muttered and told himself stories, and played tic-tac-toe against himself, dragging his peg to draw Xs and Os in the red dirt. His trigger finger was itchy, and the mines he’d strategically placed all over the canyon walls blinked quietly, their sensors ready for his signal. If only he had a goddamn target to activate them for.

“We done here?” Roadhog rumbled from the ground, hands folded over his immense belly. Not asleep, then.

Junkrat snarled, whirling upon the older junker with fury. “He said 10 in the morn! Heard it clear as a bell!”

“Your hearing’s bad,” Hog pointed out.

“10 in the morn, canyon caravan, something special, that’s what I heard. And that Suit looked loaded, all primmed and polished. So it’s got to be something good!”

“Looks like it might be a nothing. Let’s go.”

Even the stalwart Hog’s patience was wearing thin for this failed mission, it seemed. So with a sigh, Junkrat shouldered his grenade launcher and began shoving gear back into their respective bags. Throwing in the towel.

Except that was when he heard a distant rumble, the rattle of truck tires on flattened dirt trod. He straightened up to full alert like a meerkat, beanpole form standing straight up and staring very hard in that direction, turning his head to point one ear towards it. Roadhog took notice, and listened too. And he must have heard it as well, as he grunted and laboriously hauled his immense weight up off the ground, rolling his shoulders and drawing his scrap gun.

“Get ready, Roadie! Looks like they were just late after all!” Junkrat was already off like a shot, clambering up onto the collapsed boulders that gave him a better vantage point.

Lifting the binoculars, he peered down from the ridge. Sure enough, he saw three lorries headed down the canyon road, right towards their little camp. Perfect, perfect. And he saw five…no, six armed guards. He flailed both hands to get Hog’s attention, holding up his fingers to signal their number. Hog also held up his fingers, seven of them, and Junkrat looked down and saw he was signaling the wrong number again. He quickly changed it to six and waved again. Six. Six guards.

Six guards, three or four drivers. Easily doable.

Junkrat waited until they hit the main drag, and counted down until the moment they would be under the loose canyon scree where his mines had been planted, to bring the whole thing down behind them and pen them in. Then he and Hog would move in to tie up the smart ones, shoot the stupid ones, and take whatever needed taking. The thought practically sent him vibrating with excitement.

They were almost in range now. Show time. Fucking finally. A little late, but finally.

3….2…1…

BOOM.

***

Hog busied himself with mopping away the blood splatters all over his front, taking in another long hit off the hogdrogen canisters through his mask. Junkrat was tending to one of the holes. Pulse bullets, not regular type. Pulse rounds sheared through flesh easier than regular ones, but at least that meant there wasn’t any shrapnel to pick out. So they could just wrap and go, to be tended to later. Which worked for him, as he ripped off a length of bandage with his teeth and tied it in a quick knot around Hog’s wounded bicep. His mate would be fine, time to see to the spoils.

He leapt over one of their carcasses, smiling easily as he approached where the drivers had been stripped of their weapons and bound together. At least these ones had had the good sense to surrender and make things easier for them. Unfortunately, one of them still seemed to be a bit mouthy for Junkrat, threatening them about how the Queen and the Suit would be after them, make them pay, they’d seen their faces, yadda yadda. So Rat had shoved a Hog’s-blood-covered bandage in his mouth and taped it in there to stifle him. The gagging noises from their friend had shut the other ones up right quick. Whatever worked.

The first vehicle, an old battered blue ute, mostly held standard issue supplies; food, water, gas, all useful things. And now that they had the keys, it would be useful to load up and drive off. The second vehicle had just held the caravan guards, and Hog had made short work of them. But the third one? He opened it up and dragged out bags of credits and coins, hooting and laughing the whole way. And that had just been laying around in the back seat.

“Roadie! S’paydirt! What did I tell you! I told you this was a score, that’s what I told you! Hang on, bet they have even better stuff in the backsies!”

Snatching the keys from where they had been hanging in the old ignition, he giggled madly to himself as he limped back to the boot of the car, slid it home, and clicked it to unlock. It swung upward, and Junkrat looked inside and then froze. For a moment he stayed very, very still, then he practically shrieked and slammed it shut again. He looked positively rattled, eyes bulging and face going a bit pale, and he clenched both hands atop the lid before he whirled about.

“Uh! Roadhog! I think we got a problem!”

Roadhog grumbled from where he was still tending to his wounds. “Then deal with it.”

“Uh! Okay, lemme just…uh, shit! Hold on! Lemme check again!”

He swung the trunk open again, but the ‘problem’ was still there. She was still laying very much unconscious in her enclosed space in the back. A woman, completely naked except for a rough blanket thrown over her lower half, with the faint blue shimmer of a climate control field around her to keep her from sweltering to death in the heat. The coolness blew over him like a wave as he stood with both grimy hands resting on the bumper, staring at her in wonder.

Dark hair draped over most of her features, which he guessed to be Asian of some sort, but the rest of her was pale and soft and she had all her limbs. Her little bow-shaped lips were pursed and her breath was slow, a pair of glasses near her hands, which were both bound with zip-ties. Her arms bore bruises where fingers had grabbed her too roughly.

Shit. Well, when The Suit had been delivering ‘something special’, he really was delivering something special. You didn’t get ladies like this out in Junkertown. And Rat knew that a lady of this sort, being ‘imported’ in such a way for that Big Boss man…Well, the intentions were probably of the ill kind. Shit. Shit shit shit. He wasn’t sure even what he’d been expecting from this caravan as far as riches went, but lady captives had definitely not been among them.

He spurred himself into action, leaning in and turning her over onto her back. He tried not to look at her tits, really, tried to be a gentleman. But well, they were so big and they were THERE…Just a glance didn’t hurt, even if it made him swallow too wetly as he leaned down and positioned one ear over her lips. He could hear her breathing, luckily, felt it cool against his burning cheek. She smelled like sweat and vanilla, being this close to her. But she was breathing steadily and she didn’t seem hurt. Other than the bruises, they’d probably been pretty careful with her. High-priced commodity, this one.

He had to know. He just had to. They hadn’t, had they? They better fucking not have. He had to check.

Pulling away the rough blanket from atop her, he grabbed her by the hip and jammed his mechanical hand between her thighs, peeling them apart. Freshly shaved and fucking perfumed, probably to order. But everything looked normal and pink instead of red or puffy or abused. He pulled her apart just a little to be sure, but all seemed well, nethers-wise. They hadn’t. Not yet. So he tucked her legs carefully back onto the floor and covered her up again.

And even though she hadn’t been roughed up too bad, all things considered, he suddenly got angry. Very, very angry. Whirling about, he pulled his grenade launcher and clacked a new round into the slot, stalking over towards the cowering group of tied prisoners.

“Who the FUCK was drivin’ that one!” He uttered such a rattling bellow that even Roadhog looked up, was the younger junker pointed one arm straight out towards the opened back of the last car. “Speak the hell up! Who was in charge of that one!”

One of the men, bound next to blood-bandage-gag, timidly lifted a hand. He was an older bald man, soft-featured, not a junker. He didn’t speak, but looked a mixture of nervous, fearful, and guilty.

Junkrat snarled, hobbling forward and grabbing him up by the collar of his nice dress-shirt, dragging him across the dirt and throwing him face-down in front of Roadhog. Lowering into a squat in front of him, Rat watched impassively as the man spat out a mouthful of dust, coughing. Baldy looked up with no small amount of trepidation as a pair of golden eyes stared him down.

“Got any idea what was in the boot there, mate?” Rat said, too casually

The man’s eyes darted to the car and then back again. Silence.

“So ya knew, eh? Knew what you was deliverin’? Well, that’s no good, is it? Whole lot of ya knew?”

No answer.

“Huh! Well, enough of that. Was going to leave you out for the searchers before but…Think I’ll leave you out for the dingos instead. Don’t think it’ll be any loss for the rest of us, eh? Roadie, get rid of him. I’ll take care of our other little friends.” Rat turned back towards the little group of now-struggling, protesting men.

Roadhog lifted a brow. This wasn’t like his employer’s usual tactics. But he wasn’t being paid to ask questions, and there was something in Junkrat’s mannerisms that belied a level of anger he wasn’t used to seeing from the boy. Even though he still wore his smile and he still joked around about the casual order of all-out murder, there was an edge to his lips and his teeth were too tightly clenched, and there was fire behind those strange eyes of his.

But sometimes orders were just orders, and Hog couldn’t particularly think of a good reason to disobey.

He loomed slowly above the cowering bald man in the dirt, and lifted his gun.

***

Roadhog looked down at the unconscious woman and was silent. Then again, silence was not unusual for him. He just stared down at her and said nothing, likely lost in thought. After a very, very long while, he drew back again and uttered a low, “…Hm.”

Rat paced back and forth behind him, gnawing at what was left of his fingernails. There was still a shred on the middle finger he hadn’t chewed down to the quick. His eyes kept flickering to the girl, to Hog, and then back again. “What do we do with her?”

Hog shrugged.

Rat continued talking, turning and pacing back the other way. “Fockin’ hell, mate, wasn’t expecting this t’be the special delivery they mentioned. You know what she’s for, Roadie! You know! Poor bird, can’t leave her here for them t’find!”

“…Hm.”

“We could pack her up! Drive her off to one of the suit cities. Uh…dump her off somewhere safe, let the law deal with her. Unless they’re in on it too. Bet it was those fuckin’ easties or crow eaters what did it to her. Shit…Didn’t even ask where they’d come from. Should’ve asked which city they snagged her in. And now we can’t! Because you killed ‘em all, you great cunt!” He turned and punched Hog in the side of his vest, which the larger man barely felt. “Arright, arright, arright, lemme think. Let’s just…Well, we can’t well hang about here, can we? There’ll be searchers before the evening’s in. Shove aside, I’m taking her.”

Shouldering his way in beside his silent standover man, Rat wedged both hands in under her unconscious form and hefted her up, cradling her in a bridal carry as her limbs and head flopped uselessly, blanket nearly sliding off her. He couldn’t help a flush coming up to heat his ears, his fingers curling in against impossibly plush flesh as he held her to his chest. “…Fuck me, she’s soft as all. No wonder they wanted her, eh? Really pretty too, don’t you think? Don’t make ‘em like this out here, do they?”

Hog did not answer.

Rat carried her off to the ute, easing open the passenger door and setting her limp body into the seat, rather tenderly buckling her in. Smoothing the hair back from her face so it wasn’t stuck on her lip, he draped the blanket over her before closing her in and starting back towards the driver’s side. Roadhog was blocking his way, and Junkrat lifted a brow expectantly.

The larger man shook his masked head with a low grunt. “She’s not our problem. Don’t get attached.”

“Piss off, mate. Not leavin’ her here. She’s too soft. Poor dove, wouldn’t last a night out, and it’d be even worse if that Big Boss sends someone out and finds her. So…uh, I’ll figure out what t’do. Until then, I’m keeping her. Maybe when she wakes up, she can tell us what happened to her. Maybe even tell us a way to get her back home. Chinese, I think. Yeah, definitely Chinese.”

“How can you tell?”

“Well just look at her!” He gestured to the slumped woman in the truck like it should have been obvious.

“…Hm.”

“Don’t give me that shite, Hog. I found her, she’s mine. Fair’s fair, finders keepers, all that. Don’t forget who’s the brains in this little outfit we have here. Although you’re not getting 50% of her! I see those thoughts oozing around in that thick skull of yours, getting ideas. Rack off! This is a top score and she’s all mine! Take your half out of the rest of it!” He spread his long arms on the truck behind him, as if to shield her.

Hog merely uttered an unimpressed snort, hiking up his sagging overalls and adjusting a bandage over his bloodied arm. Still sore, he had no interest in humoring one of Rat’s moods, nor his obsession with his new pet. Slamming his gun back into his holster, he turned and galumphed over to his chopper, settling onto its seat as it groaned under his immense weight. “Not my problem.”

“Damn right it’s not! Now let’s scarper before anyone else comes up on this mess.”

At least that, they could agree on. Rat waited until Hog’s bike had roared to life, heading out of the ruined canyon and the massacre they were leaving behind. Throwing himself into the driver’s seat, Rat paused to stroke the unknown woman’s face, leaving a smear of dirt and crusted blood on her cheek. “Not to worry, lovely! We’ll get this all sorted out in the end. Get you home, get you cleaned up and fed. No need to thank me yet, heh! Well, not that I’d say no to a thank-you of any sort from you, of course.”

The stolen ute cranked up and he began steering it after the distant speck of Roadhog’s bike, still jabbering away to his newest silent companion.

“Just lucky I reached you first, before any of those drongos got their filthy mitts on you. Now me, I’m a proper gent. Um…Well, I mean, I might have had a peek or two at your bits. I won’t deny that. But only to be sure you was all right. You know, that they hadn’t laid hand or anything else on you yet. They would’ve, you know. Degenerates, that’s what they are. Poor darl, probably havin’ fretful dreams as we speak. Well Junkrat’s got you now! Heh. Won’t you be surprised when you wake up, see how safe y’are. I’m a bloody goddamn hero, is what I am!”

***

Mei awoke with a horrible throbbing pain in her head and a churning in her gut. Everything ached and just peeling her eyelids apart was a monumental effort. Where was she? And where had she been? That conference in Sydney about the Australian Environment Efforts…She’d cut herself off after a responsible two drinks, had gathered her papers, made plans to meet her cohorts for breakfast the next morning, and then had started the walk back to her hotel. After that…

It got fuzzy and strange after that. She vaguely remembered that she had been followed. She’d tried to duck into a convenience store and found it locked and closed. So she’d gone for her phone, to call for help…and then someone else had hit her from the side, grabbed her up, shattered the screen. She’d tried to fight them, biting and kicking. But at a rather squat 5’3, and feeling more dwarfed than ever in a land where people grew into giants for lack of anything better to do with themselves, she’d been overpowered quickly. There’d been a sting in her side, and then…nothing.

How long had she been out? And where was she now? She vaguely hoped that it all been some hideous dream, that maybe she’d had too many drinks after all, and all this had been false memories and drunken mistakes.

But no. When she came to, she was laying sprawled on a filthy stained mattress on a dirty wooden floor. It hurt to move but she tried, and there was a rattling clanking sound when she did so. Barely managing to tuck her chin in, she tried to focus her bleary eyes downward, to where a length of chain and a makeshift shackle was clamped around her ankle. And she was apparently wearing…a sports jersey? If she squinted very hard, she could make out ‘Adelaide Strikers’ on the front.

With a great effort, she managed to pull herself up onto her elbows with a little moan, and saw that her glasses were laying just beside the mattress nearby. Sluggishly snatching them and pushing them on, the blurry world became slightly less blurry. She was in a very small house or structure of some sort, though it was also possibly a garbage dump. There was trash and scrap metal everywhere, though it had been piled haphazardly where it had been moved away from the raggedy couch on the other side of the room. A TV was on, though on mute, with some sort of sports playing. Across the trailer, a makeshift kitchen was empty save for a buzzing fly around the sink, scattered with discarded coffee mugs.

No place she recognized. And it was definitely not a good place to be held captive. Not that there was ANY place good to be held captive. At least her attackers had left her something for her raging thirst. A mug full of water sat nearby, and though she was suspicious of its contents, she was simply too thirsty to deny it. Grabbing it up with weak hands, she downed it in several gulps and felt her poor dehydrated mouth come back to life.

Wherever she was, she needed to get out. As she stretched movement back into her aching muscles, she sat up and examined her shackled ankle, grabbing the chain and pulling until it was taut. Problem being, her chain wasn’t very long. She couldn’t reach the kitchen or the sharp scrap metal on the other side of the trailer. She had her mattress and her cup, and she could reach the ramshackle coffee table (though it held nothing but an empty mug and a remote, it looked hastily cleaned), and the smelly couch.

The windows had been drawn up and boarded, but daylight was streaming in through all the cracks and holes all over the filthy building, so it must have been near sun’s zenith. No telling where they had brought her, whoever ‘they’ were. But maybe if she could just get the shackle off, she could make an escape and find someone to help her. She hoped.

But no matter how she pried and wriggled, the shackle was too strong and the chain too thick. She had read about people who, in fits of desperation, had broken their own limbs or cut off hands and feet in order to escape such shackles. But even the thought made her feel sick to her stomach, and she resigned herself to finding another way out. She tried wriggling across the filthy floor, stretching the chain to its very limit so she could try and reach one of the scrap piles, to find a loose tool or something sharp. But the chain just didn’t reach that far. It only led to about halfway across the trailer, and everything had been piled up around the dingy kitchen, out of her grasp.

Somewhere outside, there was the sound of a door slamming.

Mei skittered across the floor and returned to her mattress, curling back atop it. Going fetal, she pulled her blanket back up to her chin and pretended to be asleep, just as the trailer door creaked open and someone entered. Their gait was strange, a weird k-thump, k-thump, like a limp. Whoever it was, they headed to the kitchen and began rattling around, ripping paper and rattling cups. Mei listened, still curled in on herself, and chanced a very small peek.

A man. A strange man, tall and skinny, with a peg leg and ratty shorts and wild blond hair. He faced away from her, puttering with a coffeemaker and humming tunelessly and cheerfully to herself. Mei shut her eyes again and tucked her chin as more cups and glasses rattled, scrunching her eyes shut tight.

K-thump, k-thump. His uneven gait started towards her, until it stopped just in front of her mattress.

A shrill, heavily Australian voice rasped above her. “Oi! You awake yet, darl?”

Then there was a hand, heavy and cold and metal, placing itself against her shoulder, and something incredibly foul-smelling was shoved up under her nostrils. Her next inhale burned, and she couldn’t help herself as she began sputtering and coughing. So much for pretending to be asleep. There was nothing to do but finally face her captor, lifting her head and staring wide-eyed and wary.

His lips split apart into a too-wide grin, and she saw the gleam of false golden teeth. He was sunburned and freckled, smeared with ash and soot, and parts of his blond hair had been singed black. And at least half of him had been so violently mangled that he bore prosthetic limbs, so crude as to be homemade. Made out of junk. A junker.

“There she is! Smellin’ salts, eh? Had some chems laying around, made ‘em meself!” He puffed up a bit, looking proud of the fact. “Might have gone a touch strong on the ammonia chloride, judging by that noise you made. Not to worry, put in two more bits of sodium carbonate, at least a knuckle’s worth. Maybe peppermint oil to make it a little easier on the palate, yeah? You get knocked out, you get woken up again, but there’s peppermint, so it’s like waking up to Christmas-”

She stared at the jabbering figure looming above her. Ammonia? Peppermint? Christmas? Was this man not entirely there or did he simply not notice that she was a rather terrified woman who was literally shackled to a wall? So she interrupted him, clenching both hands into her disgusting mattress.

“Who are you? Where am I?” Those were the two most important questions to ask. She also thought of adding ‘Will you hurt me?’ to that, but didn’t want to even bring the idea into his mind.

He blinked, then looked almost sheepish, slapping a gloved hand over his face. “Riiiiight, right! Listen to me, off on a tear again! You’re probably wondering ‘Who’s my handsome savior here’? Well wonder no more, lovely! The one and only Junkrat, at your service!”

“Junkrat?” she echoed, mystified. Junkrat. What a name.

“And your cozy boudoir here just happens t’be in my very own home! Feast your eyes, eh?” He gestured around at the junk and squalor all around them. “Might not be five star accommodations, but it’s got everything we need. No worries, you’re safe here.”

She shifted as she sat up atop her mattress, and there was an answering rattle by her foot. She looked down at it, then back to the grinning man. “You’ve…chained me to the wall,” she said, a bit of accusation in her tone.

“Of course!” he answered cheerfully. “Like I said, keepin’ you safe! Can’t have you going walkabout on your own, wandering into something dangerous or getting seen by someone who’s looking for you. What if you woke up and I wasn’t here for you and then you tried to leave? Perish the thought!”

Her heart dropped. So they were looking for her, and was the prisoner of some maniac junker in a shoddy trailer in the middle of who knows where. The filthy man even seemed to be so proud of himself. How utterly despicable.

“What do you want from me?” she asked, guarded.

He blinked down at her. “Want? Oh, not to worry, I ain’t like the others. They’re dead. Killed ‘em all to a man, we did.”

She went pale. The others? Her friends back at the convention, maybe? The other scientists who had been with her? She wasn’t sure who he meant, but he was looking at her like he expected praise. Praise, for being a murderer. She was facing a murderer. She would need to choose her words carefully.

And there were other important matters to tend to. Namely…well, it was embarrassing, but nature was calling. Nature was starting to shout, actually, and she needed a bathroom. Soon. She had no idea how long she’d been asleep, but her need was urgent. Hopefully her captor would allow her that much? So even though she loathed needing to draw attention to herself, she lifted a rasping voice and hated how feeble it sounded.

“This is a lot to take in. And…I…I need to use a restroom? Please?”

Still smiling, he nodded. “Oh! Of course, sweetness! You’ve been asleep for over a day, and who knows for how long afore that. Bet you gotta piss like a racehorse, eh?” He cackled to himself, not noticing her scowl at his crude words. He fumbled about in his pockets, finally coming up with a key, before he lifted up and limped past her to the wall, clicking something with the locks that unlocked her chain from the wall. With a jerk of his head, he motioned for her to follow him, hobbling over towards the door. “The dunny’s out back. Right this way, ma’dam.”

She stood slowly on shaking legs, trying to pull the the sports jersey down a low as possible where it was riding up over her thighs. The chain rattled ominously, dragging behind her as she went to follow. The door yawned wide, and she stepped out into the impossibly bright yellow of the Australian Outback’s high noon, shielding her face with one arm as she winced her eyes shut.

The smiling junker went to take her lifted hand, but she yanked it out of his grasp, drawing away. He just looked confused at that, pinching his brows and his grin faltering for a moment, but shrugged one bony shoulder and started to lead her off. She paused out in the scorching flat yard, looking around for some kind of landmark. And there indeed was a landmark. An enormous ruin, surrounded by scattered settlements rose up in the distance, a husk of a civilization in the otherwise desolate wasteland. Junkertown. It had to be. She’d only heard of the place, but it must have been Junkertown.

It looked so far away from…here. Wherever here was. It seemed to be some kind of ruined farm, with the skeleton of a windmill creaking away in the slight breeze, red dust skittering past her feet. Past Junkrat’s trailer, a farmhouse, barricaded with wood and metal, stood tall but crumbling. There were noises from inside, the banging of metal on metal.

Junkrat was back by her side, ushering her forward. “That’s just my best mate. I uh…I suggest we don’t bother him. He’s been in a mood since I brought you here. How about we save introductions for later!”

So she had more than one captor to deal with. This situation was getting worse and worse.

“Dunny’s right back here. Know it’s not the prettiest…but well, ya know! Literal shithouse, and all!” He shrugged amiably, still grinning. “Bleached it and everything, what with lady company about. Got ya some paper in there, no big deal!” He puffed up again, and gave her another of those little looks like she was supposed to praise him. Praise him, for having toilet paper.

Then again, this was a murderous junker who had kidnapped her and chained her to a wall. Maybe it was best to be polite.

“Th-thanks?”

He brightened immediately, slicking back his ridiculous hair and straightening up from his slouch until he positively towered over her. “Yeah! No big thing! Heh! Haven’t had lady company in…uh, well, let’s not talk about that! Just thrilled to bits and bonkers that you’re here, eh? Oh, right! Right! Bet you gotta piss fierce. Right in there!”

He gestured to a crude metal structure with a little dome roof, an Australian ‘dunny’ outhouse. Warily, still dragging her chain, she approached it. The reek of a sun-baked rotten toilet assailed her nostrils, and the chemicals that were trying to cover up that reek were even worse. She gave the junker a wary glance but he just smiled and lifted one hand limply in a little ‘shoo, shoo’ sort of motion. So she screeched open the door and went inside, trying not to gag.

Hiking her flimsy sports jersey, she sat. Smell aside, at least there was some relief to be had. And privacy. And maybe a few moments to gather her thoughts.

She’d been captured by this mad junker and at least one other, his ‘mate’. He’d killed people and been proud of it. He’d taken her far away from the city, to the very outskirts of far-away Junkertown, a hostile territory. He must have stripped her down and had shoved her in this ridiculous shirt, and her lack of panties had not escaped her notice. That certainly did not bode well.

And all she had was…a length of chain and some toilet paper.

Now she just needed an escape plan…

#junkrat #jamison fawkes #mei #mei-ling zhou #roadhog #mako rutledge #junkertown #overwatch #fanfiction #writing #drabble #meihem #junkmei #meirat #iceboom

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