Wendigo Rat: Chapter 1
"You know Roadhog, the first time I saw you, I wanted to kill...and eat you."
That wasn't a statement anyone sane ever said.
Normally, Junkrat's benign ramblings were as good as dust in the wind to Roadhog, but that statement, "kill and eat," wasn't something he was about to shake off and leave to ride on the air.
No one sane would.
"What. The. Fuck. Did, you just say, Rat?"
Roadhog's fists curled into bricks. It had been easy to hook Junkrat's scrawny neck against his fingers.
Junkrat's adam's apple bobbed and any words he'd been in the middle of saying, died.
The Rat was strong, and tall; but, he could just as well be stretched out like a weasel or snake-and twisted into a knot.
He would not be getting away from Roadhog. Not when he'd been talking in such a free and trusting manner. Not when he'd been cocky and dumb enough to follow besides Roadhog so closely.
So close, the Rat had been, muttering his madness right into Hog's ear.
Roadhog detected fear in Junkrat's eyes. He nodded, grumbling an approval.
Good, there was a bit of sense left in the man.
"Whoa, sorry I-"
Junkrat began to quiver as it became apparent Hog hadn't taken kindly to his statement.
Roadhog had killed others for much much less.
"I-I wasn't thinking. I-it was silly of me to say it!"
"What did you just say?" Roadhog tightened his grip. Junkrat stiffened and his eyes grew impossibly wider. "Say it!"
"I said, I wanted to eat you, Hog!" Junkrat looked bashful as he stared at the ground.
"Not in any friendly or joking way either; the bloody, crunchy, and dead way…"
The grip on Junkrat's throat further tightened...
"Hog, b-buddy!" He choked out.
"F-forget what I said, please! Don't take anything by it. You know how I am, I'm just the chatty sort-"
"Ahhhh!"
Junkrat flew face-first into the dirt, skittering forward like a rock.
"Ahhh, hahaha. Glad...we got that settled Hog."
Roadhog rolled his eyes. At least the crazy Rat bastard was honest, even to the point of sharing too much information.
Now the Rat kept a solid meter away from him, just how Hog liked it.
They'd just made camp-directly on top of dead raiders.
Many had wanted to try their luck that day.
Roadhog's guts twisted uncomfortably as he watched Junkrat work. He'd hoped that the feeling would have been snuffed out after being around Junkrat for so long; but it seemed every day, every campsite, the Rat managed to 'still' surprise him.
Rat always insisted on making camp right after a big skirmish, so he could loot the bodies...and well, eat them.
"Roadhog, you really really sure you don't want a 'tiny' piece this time around?" Junkrat gestured around himself. Bodies blown to bits decorated all his sides.
"I just can't be eating this mess myself you know."
Junkrat picked up a lone hand. The flesh was floppy, and he smiled as he waved it in Roadhog's direction.
"You don't want me to cook you up a finger or two? It'd be no problem, mate!"
Roadhog's guts twisted further.
His diet didn't agree with meat of any kind; long-pork especially, was unthinkable.
"No," he sighed. "No thanks."
Junkrat frowned, disappointed as he always was in the answer. "Yah know, the first time I saw you Roadie, I had you pegged as a cannibal."
Junkrat selected a particularly intact body. It still smoked from the explosion and the muscle wasn't all that tense. It was plenty fresh then.
"A guy that big, I thought, no fucken way that you, Roadie, 'wasn't' a cannibal. Only way I could think of, honestly."
Junkrat cut into the chest-cavity with nothing but a sad little shiv. He struggled to snap loose the ribs, twisting them in a gentle death-roll.
When the ribs finally came loose, he began chewing them individually, like cigars.
"Imagine my surprise." Junkrat's tone soured, as if disgusted that Roadhog 'didn't' cannibalize his fellow man.
'What the fuck,' thought Roadhog.
"Roadie, are you sure you're fine with just your tinnies and veggies?" It sounded almost condensing, but Junkrat's eyes looked legitimately worried, akin to a deranged doting mother.
Several unopened cans sat around Roadhog. It was good stuff: creamed spinach, spicy corn, salted beets…
"Yeah."
Not like Roadhog had much appetite after watching Junkrat work. The madman drank blood like water.
"I'm fine."
Junkrat loved the smell of blood...and sweat, oddly enough. The smells reminded him of fear; how in so many fights he'd been the clear winner.
It was night and Roadhog was sleeping accordingly. The Hog always broke out into a cold-sweat, which Rat could only tie to his immense-size.
Junkrat couldn't resist staring at Roadhog most nights. The Hog smelled uncannily reminiscent of salted jerky...
Plus, Junkrat didn't sleep...never felt the need...so things tended to get boring...
"Roadie!"
Junkrat also couldn't resist waking the Hog up.
Roadhog sighed. The Rat's midnight yowling was keeping him up more and more often.
"How do you deal with hunger?"
What? What kinda question was that?
Roadhog turned around in the dark, sitting up reluctantly from his cozy mattress.
"Damn," said Roadhog. "You look like...shit."
Junkrat wasn't looking pretty. He blinked slowly, as if he couldn't see Roadhog right before him. He also shivered pathetically, like a small dog stuck out in the cold.
"I'm hungry."
"Obviously."
More and more often, Junkrat was waking him up in the middle of the night. The most memorable incident had been when Junkrat had smashed a window-in. The sound had nearly given him a heart-attack.
"I stubbed my toe and fell forward Roadie! I'm sorry!"
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry!
That was always the story with Rat. Roadhog wasn't stupid though. He could see that blood and glass covered both of Junkrat's arms.
"Stubbed toe" his ass…it was obvious Rat had outright punched the glass.
Junkrat was having 'fits' in the night.
Roadhog had stayed up a few times, hearing a plethora of curses and screeching, the special blend only possible from a madman.
Junkrat ripped apart rotten wood boards and smashed metal pipes against rocks.
The most damning thing of all was that no matter how much a 'psychotic-break' Junkrat had, everything in the morning was always in its place.
Piles of scrap were organized.
Abused chairs and crates sat in their usual places, even if there was clear evidence of a beaver-mauling.
The morning, post the window smashing, had revealed not a single shard of glass.
Roadhog almost wrote the drama off as a dream, but then he saw Junkrat's bloody, scabbed arms.
The man had the decency to hide the mess behind his back.
Good, he had the sense to be embarrassed.
Still, the Rat didn't seem to be able to ignore his arms. He began to lick them. Slowly, the licking grew more frantic. The scabs began to bleed again.
"Rat, cut that shit out!"
Roadhog pulled Junkrat towards him with his hook.
The man didn't even seem to notice him until Roadhog touched angry knuckles to his forehead.
He wasn't sick...not with a fever.
Infact, Rat was as cold as ice...
"What's wrong with you?"
Junkrat smiled, his teeth red and greasy.
"Oh, now that's a loaded question Roadie. Yah can't just go asking that and expect a straight ahhhh-"
Regret flashed in Junkrat's eyes as he hugged himself. He waved his arms around, possibly to distract from the pain.
"What's wrong?" Repeated Roadhog.
"I'm...I'm just hungry is all."
Usually Junkrat was a crud-liar. He tended to look both ways when he did, but this time he just starred at Roadhog, like those beady orange eyes could cut right through him..
Roadhog sighed.
"Here, take this then."
He produced one of his vegetable cans: one of simply beans.
"I'd call bullshit on that, since I saw you eat a small army the other day...but... you're probably 'just' malnourished or something…"
Not like Roadhog was going to flat out say that the more likely reason, was that Junkrat was just 'batshit crazy.' He wasn't in the mood for a fight.
Rat accepted the gift gingerly. Roadhog guarded his cans as well as a dragon guarded it's gold.
It was a very nice gift, actually.
"Thanks... you're a nice sort these days, Roadie."
Junkrat retreated to a corner, hugging his knees.
He opened the can with a poke from a mechanical finger, only to find that beans...were revolting.
Maybe it was the smell? Even trash water or the bottom of a loo hadn't been so bad in comparison.
It was as if he was repelled, on a fundamental level. Beans weren't food! They were the collected upchuckings of some demon!
"Bloody hell."
His mind screamed at him to toss the can away.
He trembled as he licked at the mess, spilling the beans more onto his chest than even the ground. Each bean might as well have been a scurrying cockroach.
"What's wrong with me?"
He punched the earth, winching when his scabs again started to bleed.
The few beans that he'd eaten had been tasteless...no, weightless...as if he'd eaten nothing but air.
But...he was so hungry...and...he couldn't just squander Roadhog's generosity.
Junkrat bit into the can. Tin was surprisingly weak against his corn-kernel teeth. The can was easily stripped into lines of soft metal.
Junkrat ate the can, slowly but surely; by a single tin-flake at a time.
But the tin tasted of nothing. It sat in his stomach as good as air.
He could only taste the blood from his shredded lips.
A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated!