Wendigo Rat: Chapter 2
Overwatch.
It was a quaint enough set up. The taps ran fresh, clean water. The kitchen was stocked with all manner of goods for the taking.
Being around so many people, and being perfectly safe...Junkrat just couldn't believe it was real.
This Overwatch place was paradise.
As he ate something called a 'hamburger,' courtesy of Overwatch's cafeteria, Junkrat's reason and senses began screaming at him not to mess this deal up.
As he looked, he found many people in close proximity, eating their own burgers and sitting together.
Junkrat twitched in place, mindlessly rocking back and forth as he struggled to stop his impulse to throw a bomb into the biggest crowd of people.
'There would be so much to eat,' he thought.
He pecked pitifully at the fries his burger had come with. The food wasn't meat, wasn't something dead, so it was worthless to sooth his hunger.
He stood up, clutching a bomb in one hand…
Perhaps...perhaps...he could get another burger?
Overwatch was a paradise, wasn't it?
Killing Talon soldiers was the highlight of any mission. Save for the explosions and the click of his traps, Junkrat loved nothing more then the smell of blood and fear.
He loved how his beloved explosions tore bodies apart. He loved how embers danced in the air and movement always slowed when he glimpsed the final expressions of damned Talon soldiers.
Junkrat's work became a breathing-dead symphony as fire leeched up from thin walls and floors. Bodies more often than not, ended up as crisp black husks.
Junkrat loved fighting in hallways the most. He could aim his bomb-gun easily with the close walls. His bombs bounced like inconspicuous rubber balls.
In such close quarters, not a single soldier had yet to survive after a bomb or two.
And best, best of all...a hallway was inconspicuous and narrow…
By protocol and common-sense, Junkrat was allowed to pick up Talon bodies and to drag them into rooms along the hall.
He was "hiding" them so to speak; thus, Junkrat could retain some element of surprise…
Though it was complete bullshit, if Junkrat was being honest. He was the least sneaky sort of person he could think of; and, the next wave of Talon soldiers no doubt had a gage on his location by sound alone...
Junkrat gritted his teeth…
Of course, the more reasonable explanation of Talon always knowing where Junkrat was, was that cameras tended to litter their hideouts, inside and out.
In fact, the sheer number of cameras Junkrat spotted was intimidating as well as mortifying.
Junkrat still couldn't wrap his head around the fact, that in the modern world, in the metal entanglement of civilization…
No one had any privacy. Cameras were always watching someplace…someone...
Rat's head and back burned, as cameras no doubt had him pinned down in every direction…
Which is again why he liked hallways. He could pick up the bodies and "hide" them. In the dark corners of deserted offices and countless laboratories...Junkrat could pretend to "hide" too. That the cameras couldn't see him...see him bite into Talon necks and take pliers to hands, hiding the fingers for later-snacks.
Of course, pretending meant little in the face of reality.
Rarely did a second wave of Talon soldiers ever "did" bother Junkrat.
On their cameras no doubt, Talon saw...his crimes, his hunger.
Junkrat made the habit of looking up to the cameras, with hair and face covered in gore.
They were right to be scared.
"Jamison, thank you for taking the time to come see me."
Winston sat on a tire-swing. Despite his precarious position, he easily looked dignified and professional; especially when Junkrat was seated in just a simple chair below him.
Winston was massive, larger than Roadhog and even most battle-ready omnic.
Then again, Winston was a silverback gorilla...it was hardly surprising.
Still, Junkrat was wasn't looking all too friendly at the moment. If things came to a fight, there was no question as to who would win.
Rat felt like a lizard facing up to a dragon.
"How are you liking Overwatch so far?"
Junkrat chuckled, "Oh I love it! This place is paradise compared to what I'm used: water on tap, food, etc. yah get the picture!"
He waved a hand, "Anyway, I have a hunch you didn't call me in here for friendly chit-chat. So what's this about bigman?" Junkrat rolled his eyes. "What I do this time, yeah?"
Winston's face slowly lost all humor. Junkrat bit his lip, suddenly keen on the fact of how easily Winston could snap his neck.
"With the revival of Overwatch, you are aware that I hold an unofficial leadership position, yes? At least as far as Watchpoint Gibraltar goes…"
Junkrat tentatively nodded, "Yeah…?"
What was Winston getting at?
"And with such position I take special interest in the well-being of each member of Overwatch."
Winston adjusted his glasses, looking off to the side.
"Athena, please present the collected footage concerning mister Jamison Fawkes."
"Of course, Winston," said the base AI.
Suddenly a screen popped in front of them. It flickered briefly before a video came into view: Junkrat was seen latched to the neck of a Talon body. His teeth rip and tore. With what little fingernails he had, he'd scratched and clawed.
It was sobering to Junkrat. The amount of blood and gore...how it was recorded with such acute detail...was mind-blowing.
"Ahhh…I see now."
"Jamison, this...this behavior is completely unprecedented, unacceptable!" Winston got up from the tire, to stand barely an inch away from Junkrat, who suddenly felt very very small.
"W-why?! This is disgusting, ludicrous!" Winston screamed. He reared up as if his eyes burned.
"Disgusting!"
*'Whamp!'
Winston punched the laboratory floor. A sizable dent was left in the metal. His huge teeth snapped into a snarl.
Junkrat licked his lips, a bit envious of said huge teeth. He didn't believe Winston ever made proper use of them...
"As supervisor and administrator of Overwatch, I ask you Jamison...NO, demand that you cease this depraved behavior immediately!"
"Or what?" Junkrat surprised himself, with how snappy he sounded.
Winston frowned, grim as a rock.
"Or your 'employment' at Overwatch will be over, effective immediately."
Junkrat paled at that. Overwatch was a great deal he didn't want to lose.
He bit his tongue to avoid saying anything 'smart' that was sure to get him killed.
"But, I realize such extreme, depraved behavior isn't done without reason." Winston sat back into his tire. Hair that had prickled some, settled as his fury subsided.
"Tell me, what-" Winston paused, turning to flick the screen.
Countless…numerous, videos of Junkrat tearing into Talon bodies like candy populated the screen.
Junkrat looked on in awe. He leaned in until his fingers touched the screen, genuinely fascinated. He never realized how much blood there was...
"Wow," drool dribbled onto his chin. "I didn't...I didn't really know how much blood n' guts actually showered up on the cam."
Junkrat smile cheekily, quirking his brow up at Winston. He couldn't help but to push his chest out in pride.
"No wonder Talon's afraid of me. You know, bigman?" His eyes flickered with a keen madness. The Rat touched the corners of the screen, practically embracing it as if it were the face of a lover. "The soldiers, they never do bother me 'twice' during a battle."
Junkrat frowned, "Heck, I get lucky if a second squad of Talon even dare gets close to me, once the cams are set on me anyway. Usually I just gotta chase them down."
Winston looked simultaneously disgusted and curious at the same time. "You suspect, Talon...fears you?"
Junkrat chuckled, slapping himself on the knee. "Of course! Only the insane wouldn't be!"
Junkrat spread his arms out, gesturing wildly. "And, I KNOW so!" He was starting to feel a bit desperate as Winston's disgusted stare continued to bore into him. He seemed seconds away from an untimely death.
"Take a look at the pattern on me missions. Any spot I'm 'at' on the map is destined to stay clear if I so much as sit there. Yah gotta admit, I'm good use to Overwatch!"
Winston, of course, looked skeptical. Jamison "Junkrat" Fawkes was a valuable asset to Overwatch, but if he was so mentally-ill he cannibalized his own kind, out of leisure...well, the Rat couldn't be trusted on base...it was simply logical.
Junkrat chuckled nervously. He seemed to pick up on Winston's train of thought.
"Tell me Jamison, why-"
"You wanna know why?"
"Yes."
Junkrat had the sense to look bashful. He stared at the floor, anticipating a gorilla-swipe that would snap his neck with ease…
"Right...why…" Junkrat had to admit, it wasn't a question he ever asked himself before, at least by what he remembered.
"Well, tell me this first- 'Winston,' bigman, have you ever eaten a person? 'Tasted' long-pork?"
Winston brushed a hand over his brow. His disgust seemed to have reached a limit, as did his patience.
"No, nor would I ever want to."
Junkrat grumbled, disappointed. Any plan of persuasion seemed less likely… "Never ever?" He leaned forward, fumbling something from a pocket to his hand.
"Well, now's your chance to see what you're missing out on."
Winston cocked a brow. Junkrat held out a hand. Only when he leaned closer, did he realize…
Junkrat held out a human finger.
"My god-"
"I carry a bunch to snack, yah can have at it."
"I reiterate what I just said! Dispose of it, now!"
Junkrat blinked, then shrugged, holding back a chuckle motivated by Winston's icy glare.
"Kay." Rat popped the finger into his mouth, chewing it with uncanny ease. He almost choked as he withheld a laugh, seeing how Winston's glare turned into astonished horror.
"W-why?"
"I'm hungry."
Winston rolled his eyes, partly out of shock. "Sick," he sneered. How disgusting Junkrat was couldn't be overstated. He was rendered speechless.
The two sat in silence for a while. Only Junkrat's crunching of the finger could be heard.
Eventually Winston sighed. He wanted this conversation to be over with.
He reached behind himself…
Junkrat froze.
In Winston's grip...was a jar of peanut butter.
"Please, eat this instead. It ought to be healthier."
Junkrat expected to be attacked, by a stun-gun or a punch to the head...not, peanuts.
He was thankful he wasn't allergic to peanuts, else things would've gotten more awkward.
"Oh...thanks."
Gingerly, he opened the jar. Rat struggled not to grimace as he scooped peanut butter onto his fingers.
He almost snapped his fingers off with how quickly he licked the butter down. Thankfully he didn't taste it, despite how much it made him gag.
It was like eating warm mud.
Peanut butter wasn't meat, wasn't something bloody and dead...so his stomach twisted, betrayed.
Junkrat would have to vomit it up later.
"Good, isn't that better Jamison?"
Junkrat gave Winston a measured expression. Had Winston been human, he would've been hanging dead between Rat's teeth...but he wasn't…
Rat had slunk down from his chair. His belly bulged enough to drag onto the floor, as Junkrat crawled forward on all fours.
Winston was again rendered speechless as Junkrat looked up and arched his back, movement uncannily just like an actual rat. Junkrat's eyes weren't those of a man, not even one lost or insane.
Junkrat's eyes were dead, bright orange-fire that killed everything in its path. Those eyes bore into Winston, not blinking once before Winston himself had to turn away. It was a look that was too intense.
"Nevermind the peanut butter."
Winston turned back to the screen, unable to bring himself to continue looking at Junkrat.
Was he that disgusted? The reality that Junkrat was an active cannibal still hadn't clicked for him.
Was he ashamed that one of his agents ended up being a person so disappointingly insane?
Winston shook his head. No, it was something…
"Uh, bigman...I'm still here yah know?"
Something otherworldly…? Was that the word.
"I hate waiting!"
Sighing, Winston spun around. Junkrat looked up, more confused than angry.
"Fine, I'll keep things brief. You are to no longer 'eat' Talon soldiers, is that clear?"
"What?!" Junkrat sprung up. His face red as if he'd sat on dynamite.
"No! Nah! I ain't agreeing to that."
Winston frowned, but he wasn't angry. He'd realized he was still very shocked at the revelation of "Junkrat's cannibalism," and that solving such a deranged problem wouldn't be so cut and dry.
He didn't expect Junkrat would outright stop...the recordings were too numerous...too bloody. Junkrat also looked to enjoy himself too much in every single one.
"Fine, let us compromise then." Winston took his glasses off, proceeding to nervously rub the lens clean.
"Jamison." Winston barely stopped himself from growling.
"If you are to remind an Overwatch agent, you are to uphold the reputation of the agency."
Winston slipped his glasses back, slowly. His eyes began to water as he also felt pity for Junkrat.
What sentient-creature, be it man or gorilla, sought out cannibalism for sport? Just how twisted was Junkrat's upbringing to turn him into such a monster?
Eventually he turned around, staring at Junkrat.
Those dead orange eyes stared back. Junkrat smiled too wide, gripping the given jar of peanut butter with white-knuckled hatred . He'd stuck his tongue out, obviously not pleased by the taste.
Winston raised a brow at that. Was it possible that someone didn't like peanut butter?
"Here, sometimes the peanuts go best with this."
Junkrat looked on the cusp of screaming as he accepted the banana. Winston could only stare, gobsmacked as Junkrat struggled to peel the skin and to take even a single bite…
Human fingers dropped onto the floor. Junkrat began gingerly dipping them into the peanut butter and discarded the banana entirely.
There was something seriously wrong with Junkrat.
"Jamison Fawkes, I am placing you on probation."
"Probation? Eh, what's that exactly?"
"I am giving you a second chance to stay in Overwatch, albeit tentatively. You are to report twice a week to Doctor Ziegler for therapy to address your 'cannibalism.' She will be notified of it accordingly." Winston sighed. "Failure to do so will lead to your immediate termination."
"Termination as in death?"
"Yes."
Junkrat stared with those inhuman eyes, before slowly nodding. "Fine, but only under one condition."
"And what would that be?"
"I get a tire-swing."
A/N: Thank you for reading! Reviews and feedback are greatly appreciated!