Junkrat Gets Trolled: Chapter 1
His head rolled. Junkrat struggled to stand up. Rubble had covered him up by his waist.
He was trapped!
Something round tumbled in front of him.
'A bomb!' His mind screeched.
He was too close!
Reflexively, he buried his chin into the ground, covered his ears, and looked away.
He braced himself for the coming explosion. His eyes were gritty. His imagination easily ran wild with ideas on how his face would look upon detonation.
The seconds ticked by and his bravery wavered as he began to panic.
One could only stare death in the face for so long.
The anticipation grew palatable.
Slowly, Junkrat blinked. The light and sand stung, but he chuckled when he saw.
It was a rock, grey and plain as they'd come.
'Not. A. Bomb?" Junkrat silently sounded out the words.
He just realized he was unbelievably parched. His throat felt like he had gargled rocks.
Junkrat took a moment to compose himself. It was hard to do, from the rubble pinning him and his mind being slow to realize, he had more time than he thought.
"Fuck!" He snarled as he twisted around. The rocks wouldn't give. All the struggling just left him tired.
He blinked rapidly. It was as tempting as it was mad to sleep under a blanket of rocks.
Junkrat clenched his teeth and his ears burned.
Nothing as petty and lame as rocks kept the rat down!
He was overjoyed to find his arms spared the rubble.
Blindly, he clawed forward, finding bigger rocks to grip as he wiggled loose.
It was a slow, crude, and at times painful endeavor.
But, he got free!
Junkrat stood up.
He jumped and hollered, the victory intoxicating!
It was lucky his peg-leg hadn't been damaged; else, Junkrat might have fallen, to another kind of death.
A huge landscape stretched out before him. The terrain was elevated and he quickly put together he was on some sort of mountain-top.
Junkrat shut up as he took in the breathtaking greenery of the place. Never had he seen so much concentrated green.
He was used to deserts. Heck, he loved deserts!
Dirt, sand, and gravel-along with the beating of the sun.
It was the proper place to be; and, where he was, this forest, had little if none of that.
The sun only just barely clawed some light into the dense canopies. The forest might as well have been a jungle. It was dark enough and Junkrat's skin itched from the uncomfortable humidity.
"Damn, the fuck did I eat?" His voice was weak. "No! What did I drink!?" He corrected.
Only blackout drunkenness could lead to such a drastic change in scenery.
Junkrat coughed from creeping anxiety.
Stranded? In some rando forest?!
Junkrat couldn't believe his luck. He was positively gobsmacked and he walked slow.
Almost, he admitted to being scared.
His peg-leg kept getting snagged on roots. If his foot had still been flesh, he would have broken his ankle several times over.
"Stupid, death-trap trees!" Junkrat sneered. His temper flared. He ripped leaves and nettles straight from their branches. He crushed them like victims. The activity was delightfully therapeutic.
Junkrat was soon a mess. He was covered in splinters and sap. His face set into a permanent scowl as reality hit him like bus.
Well damn, he really was in a forest!
At first he thought he was dreaming. Second, that he was under a drug-trip.
Third, well, there wasn't one…
As sap dripped onto his lip and he cringed from the revolting taste, he couldn't deny his situation any longer.
It was real.
Nervously, he wiggled the fingertips of his mechanical hand and the metal squeaked.
The sound was reassuring. He was alive, he could still hear.
But he felt sick. His tongue rolled in horror.
His hand, it was all wrong.
Fingers were missing!
"Blimey, I'm losing it!"
Frantically he blinked, but the terrible sight didn't change.
Only three fingers were on his hand. Two stuck out like fat hooks and the other gripped like a thumb.
It wasn't wild to believe a finger or two had been severed off, somehow. He'd woken up under a pile of rubble after all.
But there was no blood? No pain?
No scars.
It was like he'd never lost anything to begin with.
Junkrat compared the fingers to his mechanical hand. One finger equalled the size of two normal ones.
And claws, thick black ones, jutted out like hooks. He flexed them in fascination.
His new hand looked entirely alien. The fingers were huge and bloated, as if infected.
Junkrat dared to look down. He noticed then, walking had been unpleasant. His lone boot was misshapen and tight.
He glanced nervously at his hand. Did...did his foot change?
The boot had to come off.
He stared longer than he would have liked. Enough so that sweat gathered onto his forehead.
He held his alien hand away, disgust plain on his face.
With his far more trusty mechanical hand he undid the boot laces.
It was a struggle. Though the hand had five fingers, it lacked dexterity. And it was smaller than he remembered.
The boot was also uncomfortably tight. Junkrat had to resort to using his new claws to nip through the leather.
The boot popped off and Junkrat gasped. He fell backwards onto his rump.
"Auagh!" Pain flooded into his foot.
Apparently the boot had cut off circulation and it burned as it returned.
Two big bloated toes had ripped out from the sock. Another toe had been added to the heel. The entire set looked like it belonged to an obese bird.
Junkrat's tongue poked out in disgust.
"Oh, that's not right, mate!" He touched the tips of his alien fingers and toes. Everything felt normal, despite clearly being not.
"Holy dooley, this is a might sick-a chicken foot! Not real, can't be!"
His flinched as he heard the fear in his voice.
The rat didn't get scared. Not, usually.
Not...not over some gross limbs! He lost a hand and foot before.
And he could do it again!
Junkrat shrugged and smirked. He stood a little straighter, pride bloomed in his chest.
Yes, he'd manage.
He almost believed himself.
Junkrat didn't scare easy, or so he figured.
Obviously, he'd been transformed somehow, an alien perhaps. It was definitely going on the list of things he'd never imagined being afraid of.
Now, there was just one more thing…
He lifted up his leg, still disfigured and bird-like.
And bit down.
"Yoweehooww!" Junkrat yelped and tasted blood. He only had intended to nip it!
It hurt alright! Any hopes of him being in a dream were put to rest.
As he licked his teeth, he almost cut himself again. His teeth had become considerably sharp.
Pointed, like a shark or dog, he figured.
Oddly, his mouth felt smaller, despite the teeth having grown twice the normal size; which, didn't seem to crowd the space.
"Cripes, I've got the mug of a croc!" He rubbed his cheeks and lips in fascination.
Junkrat felt fear pick at him again. Something jutted into his field of vision, and he automatically flinched.
Huge teeth, one's he'd somehow missed. He reached out to touch them and marveled at how it wasn't a hallucination.
Tusks! Tusks as big as swords had grown out from his face! No wonder his mouth felt so small.
So big were they, it suddenly felt hard to hold up his head and his neck felt like a wary branch.
"What! What!?" He screeched. The noise echoed along the mountainscape, mirroring his mental screaming, as he found he couldn't anymore.
He was rendered speechless.
His hands ran over the tusks, over and over, seeing just how ridiculously long they were. He expected them to disappear, no,he wanted them to disappear.
His tongue poked out and he tried to lick them. It felt hard to breath. The giant tusks took up all the space on his face!
"Gaugh!" He pulled on his hair to realise it too had changed. A thin mohawk of coarse blonde hair stuck out like a blade and it extended down, towards half his back. It felt itchy and Junkrat ripped at his scalp.
His disfigured hand ran over the side of his face. Something twitched as he touched it. His ears...long as sticks they were and almost seemed rodent like as a tuft of fur sprouted from the tips.
He wasn't a croc, but a damn mammoth!
Junkrat smiled at the imagery, but his heart sunk at the idea.
Whoa, he must look hideous!
Junkrat blinked rapidly and settled down, hugging his knees close. He found himself oddly reflective as he tried to understand why huge tusks weren't the first thing he'd notice!
He stared ahead, focusing on nothing in particular. The tusks disappeared from view, his brain ignoring them, just like his nose.
Speaking of his nose, it had grown into the shape of half an avocado!
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!" The curse continued like a mantra.
Junkrat twiddled his thumbs, refusing to look at his new accessories as he stumbled blindly. Nerves burned and pushed him forward.
He was thankful he could partly ignore the tusks. It would have quickly grown maddening to have them clutter his vision.
The tusks were terrible though. Though he couldn't see them, they constantly bumped into things-trunks, boulders, and even a bizarrely huge mushroom or two.
Junkrat tried, on did he try, to wank the bastards from his mouth; but, it was like trying to bend steel.
Damn.
