Jamie's eyes twitched, the heat of the afternoon had sunk into the desert landscape, heating everything uncomfortably. He wiped the sweat off his forehead with one hand, careful to move very little from his hiding spot. His amber eyes were fixed on the homestead that he crouched on the outskirts of. Rusted metal and wires were scattered around the yard, these people were junkers, just like the rest of them, they were sure to have something, water, food, something, anything. Jamie felt a cramp setting into his leg and he rubbed at it. He just needed to wait, they would leave soon, they would set their security measures while he was watching and they would leave, he just needed to wait.

The war had not been easy, it had left veterans and victims alike in its uncaring wake. They had survived, but they were still just surviving. Jamie felt a rumble come from his stomach, he put a hand to his thin ribs, he needed it to be quiet. His dirty hair looked like it had once been blonde, before his life on the road had happened, before the nuclear radiation had taken chunks of it. He didn't care about it too much, he never saw a mirror and survival did not allow for vanity.

At last! Jamie's eyes widened with longing as two men came out of the shack of a house, they were rigging springs and setting wires around the place, easy to counter. After a few minutes they got into a junker of a hover car; it coughed and shuddered but started, barely clearing the ground as they drove away. Jamie scrambled out of the rocks he had been hiding in, he would be quick. His broken down sandals slapped against the dusty ground quietly, his nose upturned, sniffing the air. He smelled gas, gunpowder, grease, and metal, the smells of a junker homestead. He crouched close to the ground, reading the signs of traps hidden around the house. He skirted around a bear trap with a smirk, too easy. He avoided any dirt that looked like it had been disturbed and covered back up, any conspicuous wires, he hadn't survived on his own for the last two years for nothing.

He made it to the house, he never went for the door, it was always rigged too well, but the windows, people never cared about them as much as the door. He sidled around the boards of the wall carefully, inspecting the window closest to him. There was a wire catch that led to something heavy suspended near the roof, easy to get around. Jamie carefully moved the wire, still taunt to a nail sticking from the sill, the trap held and the window was clear. He took a moment to peek in the window. He gave a young gasp of delight, they had a well! It was in the corner of the room but there was no mistaking that build, they had clean water, it had been ages since he had tasted clean, fresh water. He slid a shard of metal out of his pocket and slipped the now wire free latch on the window eagerly, too eagerly. Thieves always expected traps, cautious thieves expected two traps, the sight of water had thrown caution to the wind.

There was a click; a quiet, clean, cold click and the world turned sideways. Jamie felt his light weight thrown backwards into the air, his ears were ringing, his eyes saw dust and darkness. The last thing he remembered thinking is that he almost made it to eleven years old as he lay on the ground and blacked out.

"He's a thief."

"He's a child!"

"All the children around here are thieves. We can't do anything more for him."

"We could take him to the settlement."

"He's dead anyways, what's one more dead child in this apocalypse?"

"Terry!"

… "Fine! Can't believe this, you're spending precious energy helping someone who tried to rob us."

Jamie didn't open his eyes, couldn't open his eyes, the pain that was flaring everywhere in his body was too much to be real, if he kept his eyes closed, this was a dream.

"I think he's waking up."

"Get some water."

Jamie's eyes fluttered open at the mention of water. He tried to sit up and screamed. Two men that were in the room jumped at the noise, one dropped the cup in his hand. Jamie's vision went red, the pain, it was too much.

"Calm down, kid, here." Something painful was jabbed into his arm, Jamie screamed again, a sob choking him. Then the pain subsided slightly.

"There you go."

Jamie turned his head shakily to see a short old man holding an empty medic needle. Jamie could feel tears burning his eyes, his breathing was ragged, he could feel his ribs pull against his skin. The other man, younger and taller shoved a cup in his face. "Drink, you thief."

Jamie drank the cup eagerly, slopping some of it down his chest.

"Mongrels." The man growled. "They're like stray dogs out here."

"That's enough!" The old man snapped. "He's human, he deserves that respect." He turned to Jamie. "Don't worry, kid, we're going to take you to the settlement, they'll fix you up, you'll be alright."

Jamie felt like the old man was looking more worried than he should have been. Jamie had only been knocked out. He tried to slid down off the table he was on, but something was wrong, one of his legs was all numb. He tried again, and pain signaled to his brain frantically. Jamie knew he shouldn't look, Jamie had to look. He moved his eyes down to his torso slowly. There was something red and white on his leg, some sort of cloth, a bandage. Had he sprained his ankle? He tried to look at his ankle when his eyes finally processed the sight. He didn't have an ankle, he didn't have a lower leg, he didn't have a knee. All he had was a bloody stump.

"Got you good with the window bomb." The tall one grunted. "Probably would have been better for you if we killed you with it."

Jamie didn't hear him, he only heard a buzz that had started in the back of his head, it was so loud. Synapses in his brain shut down, unable to bear the sight, the reality. Jamie fainted back into darkness. He had almost made it to eleven.

"Should just dump him next to the road." Terry grunted.

The old man picked up the too light body and glared. "Humans survive, even this little one. I'm not going to be the one to end his life just because he was trying to survive. I'm taking him in, they can take care of him."

He started towards the hovercar. "The queen isn't heartless."

Junkrat's eyes twitched, the amber fire in them danced as he looked around the garage, they were never still. His hands fiddled with a bit of wire, quieting the buzz in the back of his head, the buzz that was always there, fidgeting helped keep it bearable. He stretched his long body, this project was taking longer than he would like. He snorted irritably at the hardware on the bench in front of him, it really should be easier to attach a motor to a tire rigged with explosives, he just couldn't seem to get the fittings right. He glanced over at the other side of the workshop, where Avery was bent over his own work. Junkrat kicked off the bench and sent his stood wheeling over to him.

"Whatcha up to?" He asked, bored of his own work.

Avery looked up, one eye magnified by his work glass. "Another leg." Junkrat's twitchy eyes looked the piece over. It looked nicer than the leg Avery had cobbled together for him, he swung his peg leg moodily, the springs joints in the knee squeaked.

"Why's that one so shiny?" He pouted, it wasn't an attractive look for a man in his early twenties.

Avery gave an annoyed sigh, he regretted renting a corner of his shop out to Junkrat somedays, especially the explosive days, or the days when the young man was bored and chattered non-stop. "Yours isn't nice because you keep blowing it up! You can't have nice things if you keep exploding them. You're lucky I replaced it for you, twice!

Junkrat stuck out a lower lip and sulked. Then his attention was caught by Avery's work. The old man had two prosthetic arms that he had designed himself, told Junkrat he lost them in the war. His metallic fingers slipped easily through the small openings, the tricky edges. Junkrat's amber eyes glowed, that was pretty handy; he chuckled at his own joke. He glanced back at his own project, if he could get around those tight corners, those tricky tight spaces.

"Say, Avery. You made your own arms, yeah?"

"Designed, can't make something with no arms."

"Course not, anyways, what's one of those run you?"

"Arms are tricky, got to be more careful with them, they cost a bit."

Junkrat's eyes sidled over to the circular saw. Yes, it would be so easy, too easy. This would solve that problem. The buzz in the back of his head damped any cautions as he casually kicked his stool in the direction.

"Must be handy, have those hands." he let slip a high pitched giggle, that joke was never going to get old. "They look rather useful."

"Suppose so, helps with the wires and all, why the sudden interest?" Avery asked bent over his work.

Junkrat leaned over the saw and reached for the on switch. "Just thinking about getting an upgrade."