I was craving some Junkrat and Roadhog backstory but i doubt Blizzard will ever do it so i thought i might write it myself.
The story takes place before Junkrat and Roadhog meet.

Enjoy !

The day was calm and quiet in the little place known as Junkertown. The morning was almost over but the landscape and its inhabitants were still asleep. Whoever didn't know the place may have thought it was a usual little town – maybe a bit shady but nothing out of the ordinary– but Junkertown always woke up with an electric energy, near tangible.

The north was relatively peaceful, but Junkertown was still chaotic nonetheless. The city was full of bars, dusty motels and a supermarket with suspicious activities; yet there were no habitations nearby, the population so scarce you'd think that Junkers would rather wander than settle anywhere. Alcohol and cigarette trafficking had risen in a spectacular way since the omnic crisis, so much so that it had become the main economy of the region.

Bessy had seen suits going down to the city only to get their fill of booze and cigarettes before scurrying back to where they came from several times. 'Bloody suits. They only acknowledge the existence of this hell hole for their own benefit' she bitterly mused. Junkers weren't very fond of the suits, and the mere thought of them made Bessy want to spit out of rage. But no. Not here. Not in her bar.

"Oi, Bessy."

Heavy boots made the floor shake. Those who weren't sleeping turned around in order to look at the intruder.

"Hey Joffrey."

People didn't make a lot of friend in the Outback, and Bessy was happy to be lucky enough to have Joffrey. He was a skinny little guy, fond of those old far west movies that came out during better times. His stereotypical cowboy aesthetic gave him a friendly look and he was one of the only Junkers that actually took care of himself. He tried to do his hair as best as possible, and he was slightly less filthy than the others but, above all, he always wore his waxed pair of boots that he liked to thump against walls and floors to show his presence.

"You got something for me Bessy?"

"Sure thing."

The woman took a little star-shaped brooch out of a pouch. Barter had become more and more common in the Outback, and paying with goods rather than money wasn't unusual.

Joffrey let out a high-pitched little cry. He had a real obsession for brooches that he always kept on him when he was traveling, so Bessy often gave some to him when a client paid with one.

"Look at how pretty it is! Kinda looks like a sheriff star. I mean… If ya squint."

He clumsily attached it on his vest before looking for some coins in the bottom of his pockets. Bessy knew perfectly well he wouldn't have enough money to pay for it, but she was more than happy to make a friend blissful.

Someone else entered the bar. Far more discreet than Joffrey, he seemed suspicious to Bessy. This man was certainly not a Junker, you could say that the first second you saw him. He had a clean face, good clothes and, above all, he didn't have any missing eyes or limbs, which was doubtful for a Junker. Joffrey did his best to have good hygiene but he still looked like a dirty kid; the Outback's filth was more persistent than any other kind.

The entire bar seemed to be keeping an eye on the man. Bessy watched him as he sat near Joffrey. This did not sit well with Bessy and, unfortunately, her instinct was rarely wrong.

"Bess, are you listenin'?"

The woman looked at her friend; speechless. The mysterious man was drawing all of her attention. Joffrey looked like an upset kid.

"There's a rumor sayin' someone discovered some sorta secret about the omnics in the Outback, and now everyone's tryin' to get him. Could make some money out of this. Sell him to the suits. It can't be that hard to catch someone all alone here." One man muttered.

"And I'm telling you this is all bullshit!" barked another man.

"You shut up! Nobody asked you. I say it's more than credible, I wouldn't be surprised if the omnics weren't done with us and that they're hiding some ugly stuff that the people wouldn't be too happy to find out."

"You think the suits would wait for some wanker to hand him over on a silver platter ? They're way more equipped than us, they can comb this city and get this rat out of this hell hole in one day."

"It's true," intervened a woman, "I saw a band going to catch him and they said he almost killed all of 'em, and there were three against this jackass. One got his foot snatched by some booby trap and the others got mines shoved up their asses! Now he's a wanted man and gangs are organizing manhunts for him."

"He's a kid from the Outback. I don't know why the hell he's staying in this country instead of running away. But yeah, he's one of us."

"Bullshit, he ain't a Junker, he found some classified files in King's Row and now he's here to blackmail the suits. That's all."

The entire bar seemed to be woken up and Bessy didn't know who to listen to anymore. But that wasn't necessary. The spreading rumor about some Junker finding out a secret about the omnics had been the favorite subject of her customers for a week. She had already heard every version and seen several guys pretending that they had caught the kid and given him to the suits, but last she noticed there had been no bounty for such a case lately. Information wasn't spreading very well in the Outback, and it was more likely that it was just a simple lie made up by someone that got out of hand and went to everyone's ears in town. Honestly, Bessy couldn't care less but she liked the excitement it brought to her place.

The mysterious stranger was the only to not be in the conversation. He was just staring at the table with a serious look. Bessy took the occasion to look at him closely.

He had scruff all over his face and cheeks, some scars and a lopsided nose that he most likely gained from getting it broken before. However, he seemed perfectly healthy. This struck her as odd, most of the people here were either overweight or underweight, but never in good shape. While Bessy was focusing on his belt to check if he had anything valuable – Junker's reflex – she noticed the shape of a small firearm under his coat. Carrying a gun with you was definitely not unusual in the Outback, but most people there had shitty rusted ones or some kind of ass-backwards thing they made themselves. Contrary to the norm, the gun was all shiny and silver, you could see the manufacturer's signature and the serial number wasn't worn off. This was a red flag that the man was a suit.

Bessy started to panic. Talking about those rumors in front of a suit wasn't the best idea; what if he was there to get information? Calm down, Bessy. Radiation's made you paranoid you poor girl.

"Who cares about the guy's identity anyway? The most important thing is the secret," Joffrey interjected.

"God knows what the omnics are still hiding! Something to do with the bastions, maybe. You know, they could be rebuilding them."

"No, a Junker wouldn't let this happen to the Outback again."

"Of course he would, if he could make enough money out of it."

"Oi, what if it's a secret society? There's been a lot, always has, why not a secret omnic society? So they can take over again."

"No, I've heard it had something to do with the suits."

"Always got something to do with the suits."

"What if the ALF was behind all that? Lots of them have sold their asses after getting busted, and now some are working for the suits. This is all their fault if we're deep in this crap."

Everyone nodded in silence at this statement. The atmosphere had suddenly calmed down but Bessy couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at those last words. 'They're all too young to be able to understand the ALF', she thought.

Everyone went back to their business. Joffrey seemed embarrassed for all the attention he had been drawing on himself while he simply wanted to speak with Bessy. He muttered something unintelligible before ordering a bottle and leaving. The bar was dull once again. The only thing that moved was the odd man that got out of his chair and walked to the door. Bessy watched him go, a feeling of relief stealing over her.

Flynt got out of the bar, disappointed as ever. He had received the order to catch a man as soon as possible but he didn't have the reason as to why. He only knew this Junker held something that could widely affect Australia if it ever came to spread. At first, Flynt had been curious; why would all those suits and bosses be so upset only because of a kid from the Outback? Flynt knew he hadn't been the only one told to catch him, several of his other "colleagues" were sent in other regions for the same reason. Even some high-ranking mercenaries were scrambling to look for the wanted man.

'I'm just a hitman after all,' Flynt grumped internally. 'Knowing this secret won't change anything for me. Not my business.' There was still no bounty for the Junker, and the news didn't even mention him. The government wanted to remain silent about the criminal as long as possible, and turning the situation into a national manhunt was not a wise decision. The Outback was animated enough as it was, people didn't need another reason to kill each other. Somehow, the news had spread all around the area at a rapid speed. Junkers always showed a flair for cases that could make money.

Flynt was sweeping across the place for an entire week now and he had already heard dozens of different stories. The wanted man was already known by the police, mainly for stickups and a few "explosive" accidents. Flynt wasn't chasing a ghost for once. Jamison Fawkes. Tall, wiry, and nuts. The mercenary had already heard a few people describing himin great detail, proof that Fawkes was still around and that some testimonies weren't just lies to draw attention. 'This freak has no idea of the mess he's made. He's either reckless or really stupid for not having left the country by now.' He was probably both for staying within the Outback when the entire population was hunting him.

Flynt sighed out of exasperation. He was scraping out all the shabby places of this dirt pile of a city for one week and he hadn't learned anything new. All those rumors were making him confused now, and he was starting to toe the deadline of his assignment… Perhaps this Jamison Fawkes was more of a criminal mind than an idiot for running away from so many pursuers while staying in the same spot. Unbelievable. Exhausted, the man trudged to a gas station to get supplies.

Arriving at the station, he mechanically found his way to the freezer. He could kill for an ice cream on this searing day; but it was empty, unfortunately as expected. Convenience stores only sold cans of food, sometimes a bit of meat and fresh vegetables if you were lucky or lived near a farm. Flynt grabbed the first cans that were in his reach and headed to the cashier when he overheard a conversation.

"That guy's at the waste dump again, he's not letting anyone near him."

"The kid?"

"Yeah, him. A few people tried to dislodge him from there but he's one pigheaded boy. Says he won't leave 'til he's done, he's just mucking around with scrap. Looks like he's gonna take everything."

"'S not that hard to scare off one guy alone."

"He's rigged the entire place, some of my mates tried to get him out of there but they ended up with booby traps clamped on their feet and mines up their asses. Asshole knows how to use his launcher."

"Poor guys."

Flynt shuddered at those words. Launcher. Booby trap. He knew these two things were the criminal's favorite weapons. Fella had a reputation for a few years now. That's him. I can't let him go. Flynt thought there were too many coincidences, but he already had false hopes in the past when following promising leads. It was different this time. He could feel it in his gut.

His heart pounding hard with excitement in his chest, Flynt forgot his cans and ran straight to the exit, forgetting to pay. A man insulted him when he pushed him by accident and he could hear the cashier shouting at him in the back. The yelling slowly vanished in the air as he was approaching the dump. He didn't have time for that, he absolutely needed to get to the dump before Fawkes left or before other Junkers got their hands on him. Flynt could come back to pay for his stuff later anyway.

The man arrived at the dump breathless. He rested for a bit to catch his breath ; he had to be ready if he ever needed to fight.

The dump wasn't like how Flynt used to know it anymore, it had become smaller because of all the Junkers that were quarreling for the scrap. Now there was just a bunch of trash piles and broken, useless objects everywhere. The place looked like it had turned into a meeting area for Junkers, there were remains of camp fires. Flynt spotted some old mattresses half-hidden and torn open tents. 'How can you live in such a place…' sneered Flynt with disgust. Staying an entire night lying down in the dirt and chasing Fawkes already repelled him; so he couldn't think about sleeping and living in this dump.

Eager to get out of the place but still concerned for being quiet, Flynt began to comb the area, half sprawled on the ground. Night was starting to fall and the man feared that he'd fall into one of the booby traps; he knew how much Fawkes loved these kinds of vicious tricks. He really hoped there weren't any mines. Better not to think about that.

Flynt had been looking for the Junker for a couple of hours now. The sky was completely dark by then, and making one step in this obscurity was too dangerous. It was more than likely that Fawkes was gone by now, Flynt should have seen a fire somewhere if the criminal had stayed in the area, and he had already looked in every corner of the dump without finding anything. It was more than hopeless.

Flynt sighed, disappointed again. He was turning around while watching his steps when he heard a high-pitched voice rising and singing in the air.

"A green mouse, Running through the grass. I catch it by the tail, I show it to those men. Those men tell me: dip it in oil, dip it in water and it will... huh... kaboom!"

Flynt felt like a hunter who had finally spotted his prey. He flattened himself onto the ground and started crawling towards the voice until it became louder and louder. Finally, he could see an outline in the dark. He focused for a few seconds to get used to the obscurity and then he clearly saw the Junker. Fawkes was sitting with his legs crossed and his back bent but you could still guess his spectacular height. He was working on his peg leg detached from his stump with a screwdriver; sometimes he would stop to pet it like a little animal and whisper words that Flynt couldn't hear. Next to him was lying his precious launcher and rusted scrap heaps.

Slowly and carefully, Flynt began to stand up and armed himself to get ready for a confrontation. He thought his cover was perfect, but with his shit luck, he stepped on a well-hidden can in the dark, immediately revealing his position.
The Junker jumped on his one good leg at the sound. He scanned the area for a few seconds before putting his peg leg back. If he was lucky enough, Flynt had enough time to hide again.

"Oi!" he heard. The Junker was standing still.

Flynt heard the mechanic sound of a cannon being reloaded. He barely had the time to realize what was happening before a painted grenade with a mocking smirk rolled at his feet, staring at him with a satisfied look.
Flynt kicked it by reflex and tried to run away before it could explode but he still was destabilized by the explosion.

"The hunter lays a trap for his prey." he heard, followed by giggling that sounded like a hyena. This is no good.

Flynt decided to charge anyway. He couldn't waste any more time and Fawkes had been on the run for too long. He needed to catch him at all costs.

Flynt started shooting while pursuing the Junker, hurried to run away again. He tried to properly aim but all the dust caused by the grenade made it difficult. The bullet streaked the dusty clouds with perfect lines while he could see Fawkes zigzagging everywhere, which made the job harder. That twat's running fast for a man with one leg.

More grenades started raining from above. The man could hear the Junker shooting and reloading franticly without paying attention to what he was aiming at. His laugh grew louder and louder as he was bombarding the area.

Flynt dodged the best he could; catching one grenade while it was landing on his head and throwing it back to the Junker. There seemed to be more and more and they randomly fell from the sky, completely distressing him. Now he understood how the criminal got away so easily every time those men chased him.

"You won't miss that one!" Flynt heard.

He stumbled on a trash pile and brutally crashed into the ground. No more grenades were being thrown, so Flynt took the occasion to stand up quickly and locate the Junker. One of the traps clamped down viciously on his ankle, agony turning his face grey. He fell flat on his face against the dusty ground, howling like a wounded animal. The Junker responded with a loud and obnoxious titter and turned around to stick his tongue out at the man like a child.

Dazzled and deafened by the searing pain, Flynt struggled to snap out the haze and clear his mind. He had one more weapon in his arsenal.

Face still on the ground, he drew the little gun he carried in his belt out. He had been given a few tranquilizer bullets in case his target was too hard to catch; it was always easier to get your grip on someone when they couldn't move anymore.

The Junker had stopped running, too busy mocking Flynt. The mercenary tried to focus while being discreet, even though he doubted Fawkes would have noticed anything even with a gun against his temple.

Flynt stabilized his vision for a second; now that the dust had vanished it was easier to aim. He tensed his muscles, suddenly pulled his arm out and shot. The bullet grazed the Junker right in the calf. Fawkes' babbling and laughter abruptly stopped. He looked down at his leg for a second before turning his head to Flynt and staring at him. For a moment, the man feared the dose wasn't high enough; a man like Jamison Fawkes certainly needed something more violent than a common human to take him down.

Then he started swaying, first on his feet until he fell flat on the ground, head first into the dirt like Flynt did. The mercenary held his breath for a moment while staring at the Junker, scared that he would stand up again. However, he stayed flat on the ground, still as the dead.

Flynt was finally able to loosen up. He exhaled and pressed his cheek into the rough earth beneath him. He had caught Jamison Fawkes.

This is the translation of the original fic in french, sorry if the style seems clumsy sometimes !
I would like to thank the best beta-reader that helped me correcting it, Emma.

Thank you for reading !