Junkrat's hands were clenched so tightly around the frayed hem of Roadhog's vest that they'd long since gone numb on him, but that was far from his primary concern at the moment. The vibrations from the truly gigantic motorcycle below him rattled him to his core, almost so much that he was starting to fear his rickety prosthetic leg wouldn't survive the trip much longer, at least if the loose jingling of bolts he could hear were anything to go by. The wind whipped at him so violently that he could hardly keep his eyes open, even though his new bodyguard's broad form shielded him from the full brunt of it.

Of course, even if he could open his eyes, there was a fair chance that he'd keep them shut tight anyway. The world was zooming past him at a dizzying speed, and it was enough to make him nauseous if he kept staring at it for long. Roadhog was grumpy enough as it was, and he was quite sure the man would be quite livid with him if he puked all over him or his bike. But really, could you blame him? He'd never been on an actual vehicle like this before, at least not that he could remember. He'd never gone so fast in his life, and never been this exposed to the elements while doing so. It should come as no surprise that he'd be clinging to Roadhog's back for dear life the entire trip.

Junkrat was naturally grateful when he felt them start to slow down after several hours of travel. He kept his death-grip on the Junker Enforcer's vest until they came to a complete stop, and even then Roadhog had to reach behind him and pry the boy off his back. He then tossed him unceremoniously to the ground before dismounting his steaming motorcycle. The boy let out a whiny yelp when he collided with the ground, getting up shakily after a moment to rub at his aching butt.

"Oi, what's the big deal? Why're we stopped?" he grumbled out, folding his scrawny arms across his chest in a huff. Not that he was particularly enjoying the ride, but he was the one that was supposed to be calling the shots here! He didn't remember telling this big lug to stop! Not that he could work up the courage to give the murderous outlaw an actual order… but that was beside the point!

Roadhog didn't bother looking back at the child as he opened one of the saddlebags mounted near his bike's rear wheel, pulling out an old threadbare rag. He moved up towards the engine, using the rag to shield his hand as he unscrewed the cap to the radiator.

"Bike's overheatin'... Fuck!" he cursed aloud, pulling his hand back just before a great burst of steam from the radiator could scald it. He grumbled a few more choice words under his breath as he moved back to his saddlebag, retrieved an old, rotting plastic water canister, and cursed again when he realized it was empty. He glanced back at where Junkrat still stood, tossing the canister at his feet.

"Make yerself useful and fill that up at the pond over there." he rumbled out before turning back to his motorcycle. Junkrat stared down at the canister for a moment, giving it a poke with his peg-leg. There he went, bossing him around again… This wasn't how this whole boss/bodyguard dynamic was supposed to work out, dammit! His bushy eyebrows hunched low over his eyes, his hands setting themselves defiantly on his narrow hips.

"Why should I?"

The boy regretted his words before they fully left his lips. Roadhog dropped what he was doing, standing up to his full imposing height and grabbing his hook from his belt. Junkrat let out a squeak that could have just as easily come from an actual rodent, scrambling to scoop up the canister from the ground before the great brute had a chance to attack. This seemed enough to satisfy the man, and he went back to work on his bike.

Junkrat hobbled off the side of the dirt road towards the pond Roadhog had indicated a moment ago. He grumbled some rather unflattering things about him under his breath, but made sure to keep his voice low enough that he couldn't be overheard. He came to a stop in front of the pond in question, staring down at the murky water. Parched though he may have been after hours of riding through the desert, that water didn't appeal to him at all. The only thing filthy little ponds like these were good for was gathering radiation and animal corpses. It wasn't even fit to be purified, but he supposed it would do for cooling down an engine.

He knelt at the pond's edge, submerging the canister under the surface of the toxic soup whilst trying to keep his hands out of the stuff. His nose winkled up in disgust at the greasy bubbles that broke the surface, and he looked away as the container finished filling. As he did, he spotted something that only a scavenging mongrel like himself would find interesting. There was a pile of scrap metal gathered off on the opposite bank of the pond. It was good stuff, too. It looked like mostly discarded Omnic parts from what he could see on the surface. He spat at the ground at the very thought of those robot bastards, but his indoctrinated hatred of them didn't keep him from acknowledging that their parts sold for premium prices in the scrap market.

Junkrat glanced back over his shoulder. Roadhog was still busying himself with whatever he was doing with his bike, and he wasn't exactly calling him back yet… Perhaps he could afford to pop over there for just a second? A few small parts in fair condition would be enough to buy the two of them a bit of decent grub the next time they hit somewhere with a trading post. He decided to go for it, leaving the now-full water canister there on the bank before starting his way around to the other side.

The scrap pile was as good a one as he'd ever seen. Outer chest plating and cranium casings sat glistening in the orange evening light, a bit sun-bleached but otherwise in great condition. A feral grin spread across the boy's face, and his sudden overwhelming greed caused him to throw caution to the wayside as he hobbled quickly towards what was sure to be a gold mine.

It was only when he got within a meter of the pile that his sense of caution kicked back in at full swing, his grin evaporating in an instant. He'd suddenly remembered something very important regarding piles of Omnic scraps just like this one. If the parts looked too good to be true, then it wasn't just a heap of discarded metal; it was a nest.

Junkrat scrambled to a stop as quickly as he could, turning on a dime to get the hell out of there, but he was too late. He'd gotten too close. The pile of scrap suddenly seemed to explode outward behind him, several pairs of metal hands reaching out to grasp at his clothes, his hair, his limbs, and anything else they could reach. He was yanked violently backward, his back slamming against the hard metal torso of an Australian scavenger's worst nightmare. What seemed like a dozen arms closed in around his body, trapping him there and threatening to crush the life out of him.

"S-Spider!"

Junkrat instinctively let out as loud of a scream as he could with what air remained in his lungs, but it was all but drowned out by the inhuman screech of the Omnic monstrosity that had him, a noise like a thousand running sawblades piercing at him from just behind his ear. He didn't get the chance to try to scream again before there was a loud splash, and he found himself suddenly submerged in murky water.

The instant he felt the burn of the water against his skin, Junkrat began thrashing wildly, trying everything in his power to get away from the creature before it could drag him further down. Panic set in, and he tried to scream again without thinking. He felt the burning water fill his lungs, choking the life out of him. Before he could fully drown, however, he felt himself being violently yanked back up towards the surface of the pond. The Omnic's grip slipped, but one impossibly strong mechanical hand latched onto his forearm. It squeezed him like a vice, and he could feel the bones in his arm shatter, he could see the streams of red rising in the water from around the rusted orange fingers that held him. The last thing he saw before his vision went dark, however, were three glowing blue dots.

"H-hey, uhhh… How's it going?"

Roadhog, though he was sitting, still had to look down when he heard someone hesitantly address him. His mask-obscured eyes soon came to rest on a rather sheepish-looking Lúcio, who of course came with offerings of food for the Junker Enforcer. This had become a regular occurrence over the past few days. Roadhog had staunchly refused to leave Junkrat's side since they'd brought him back, and that included for necessities like food and sleep. The agents of Overwatch didn't bother trying to talk him out of it, though whether it was out of understanding or fear he never could tell. Still, they were thoughtful enough to bring him food at mealtimes. He could appreciate that, at least.

He didn't bother answering the young DJ as he took the plate from his hands. The question was a redundant one. So long as Junkrat remained comatose, everyone knew good and well how Roadhog was faring. After a long moment of painfully awkward silence, Lúcio realized he wasn't going to be striking up a conversation with the man anytime soon. He politely excused himself before zooming out of the medical wing, leaving the outlaw to himself once more.

Roadhog let out a sigh before setting the plate of food off to the side. It didn't feel right, sitting there and eating a meal while his charge was stuck lying helplessly in a hospital bed. Old habit, he told himself. He never did eat unless he'd made sure Junkrat had had enough for himself first. Honestly, he just didn't want to admit to himself just how much it hurt to see the little scrapper like this, all but dead lying in front of him. Of course, it must have been obvious, even to those Overwatch drongos. The thought prompted a quiet, bitter bark of laughter from him. To think, someone like him getting so torn up over some mad cripple. You'd hardly believe, looking at them now, that he'd nearly left the little bastard to die out there in the bush on his first day on the job.

Roadhog had been perfectly content to let that little brat run off and do his own thing. Yeah, he did kinda need that water, but he'd mostly sent Junkrat off to get him the hell out of his hair. That scrawny mongrel just didn't know when the hell to shut up. He'd learned more about that boy in the first hour of his trip than he'd ever cared to know. Even the roar of his engine hadn't been enough to drown out the incessant rambling in his ear. In fact, he'd gotten so annoyed by it that the pre-teen was probably only alive now due to the Junker Enforcer's happy discovery that, if he went fast enough, the brat finally clammed the hell up. He'd been pushing his speed a little higher than he might normally, but this minor setback it caused was more than worth the few hours of silence it had gained him.

Unfortunately, even though his young charge had wandered off and left him well enough alone for a bit, the delightful silence didn't last long.

"S-Spider!"

If that panicked scream wasn't enough to get the man's attention, the ungodly mechanical screech that followed certainly did the trick. Roadhog's eyes widened instinctively behind the lenses of his mask as he whipped around to search out the source of the commotion. It didn't take him long to spot it. Junkrat was on the other side of the pond he'd sent him off to, kicking and screaming against a tangle of robotic limbs as they grasped and tore wildly at him.

They called them Spiders. They were once Omnics, the very bastards that had been gifted the Australian Omnium before it blew. After it was destroyed, the survivors soon showed their true faces. Driven mad by radiation and decaying neural circuitry, they became feral scavengers, wandering around the wastes, gathering the bodies of their fallen comrades, and attaching every salvageable limb to their own bodies until they looked like some monstrous, spider-like amalgamates. Judging from how many limbs this one had collected, it was clear it was very good at what it did. It also meant it was especially aggressive.

Roadhog bolted forward, taking off at full sprint towards the scuffle, his hook at the ready. The Spider saw him approaching, turning it's three glowing eyes his way before immediately diving into the murky pond, dragging Junkrat down with it. His body moved before his mind had time to think, his hook sailing through the air and down into the pond. He yanked back on the chain and found that he'd managed to hook something, though he couldn't tell what it was. He gave another yank, and a small figure flew from the pond towards him, his hook fixed securely around the boy's waist, followed immediately by that horrid mechanical monster.

The Junker Enforcer managed to catch his charge in one large arm, his free hand shooting forward to grab hold of the wiry robot that still clung to Junkrat's right arm. The Omnic let out another static-filled screech, it's many hands clawing and tearing at the gigantic flesh one that now held it in its crushing grasp. Roadhog forced the tin can to the ground before driving the heel of his boot against its skull, popping its head like an over-ripe melon. Only then did it cease its futile clawing, and only then did it release Junkrat's arm.

Even though it was dead, Roadhog put a bit of distance between himself and the Omnic's corpse before he lowered the boy's still form down to the ground. He noticed fairly quickly that he wasn't breathing. Oh great. Now on top of everything, he had a literal drowned rat to deal with. He did the only thing he could think of to help; driving a fist squarely into the boy's sternum. Much to his surprise, Junkrat immediately coughed up what had to be a full liter of filthy water, drawing in a deep breath as though it was the first one he'd been able to take in his life.

Roadhog allowed himself to let out a sigh of relief as the kid continued to gasp in deep breaths of air, occasionally sputtering against the lingering fluid in his lungs. Well, at least the brat was alive. He could mark that down as some small victory. Then again, now that he took another good look at him…

Junkrat was technically conscious, though his eyes stared up blankly from the shock to his body. He had a good chunk of hair missing where the Spider had ripped it out, his scalp dripping blood. Of course, that was nothing compared to his arm. His entire right forearm was a mangled mess of torn flesh and shattered bone, a puddle of crimson starting to gather in the dirt where he lay. Roadhog's shoulders drooped slightly at the sight of it. He was no doctor by any means, but he could tell just by looking that there'd be no patching that mess back together. Add to that the almost guaranteed infection he'd get from having that filthy water in his wound, and the kid was pretty much buzzard bait.

Roadhog rose to his feet with a grunt, idly wiping his blood-stained hand on the back of his pants. Well, that had to be one of the shortest jobs he'd ever accepted. Not that he'd ever sold himself as the bodyguard type, but he didn't expect the kid to go and fuck himself up like this on the first day out. It wasn't his problem. The little pissant should have known a Spider nest when he saw one, especially if he collected scrap metal for a living like he'd said.

Of course, now that he gave it some thought, there wasn't really any downside to having failed this job. He no longer had to deal with some stubborn kid, and he had the kid's 'treasure' all to himself. Hell, given the circumstances, failing might have been the better deal anyway. Resigning himself to the fact that the little bastard was a goner, he made his way back to his bike, fully intending to leave him there to rot.

Were it not for the fact that his motorcycle was still too overheated to go anywhere, Roadhog would have taken off down the road right then and there. As it stood, he still had to fill up his radiator and wait for his engine to cool a bit. That meant he had to linger nearby, the still form of that twelve-year-old boy lying in the dirt always within viewing distance. He tried not to look at him. That's what had gotten him in this damned mess in the first place; he'd seen some pathetic little street urchin and gave into some lingering scrap of pity he still held for someone like that. And just where had that pity gotten the kid? He was left dying in a ditch in the middle of nowhere, no one in the whole damn world giving a single shit about him.

Roadhog's leg soon started bouncing restlessly as he sat in the saddle of his motorcycle, his eyes glued to the temperature gauge, suddenly very eager to get the hell out of there and outrun any second thoughts that might creep up on him. It wasn't his problem anymore. No one was anyone else's problem out here in the wastelands. It was everyone for themselves, and if you weren't tough enough to make it on your own, you died. That kid just wasn't tough enough. That's just how it worked. No need for him to feel guilty about it.

Then again… She'd have been about that kid's age if she was still alive…

The thought hit him like a damned knife in the back. no… No, Goddammit! Those thoughts were off-limits! Those were the thoughts of a man he'd buried behind a mask ages ago. They were not the thoughts of Roadhog. He wouldn't let himself be dragged back into that misery. Not again…

"God fuckin' dammit, kid…" he growled to himself under his breath as he hoisted himself up off his bike, making his way reluctantly back to where Junkrat still lay.

There was hardly any sunlight left by the time Roadhog had built up a decent campfire. He already had his entrenching shovel setting against it, the metal head of which was resting in the flames to heat up. He knelt at the boy's side, shaking him lightly to make sure he was still alive. Junkrat let out a weak grunt, though his vacant eyes stared up at nothing. Good enough. The Junker Enforcer reached behind him, plucking a small circular flask from his belt. He unscrewed the cap, just catching a whiff of the foul swill that passed for gin in these parts. He lifted the kid's head up with one massive hand, pressing the flask to his lips.

"Drink." He ordered gruffly, though he was unsure if he could be heard at the moment. Junkrat choked a bit at first, but eventually swallowed a mouthful of the Outback moonshine. Roadhog was mildly impressed. He wished he'd handled his first taste of that crap so well. He splashed what little remained over the boy's bloody scalp, earning him a hiss of pain. He then laid the boy back down to let the alcohol take its full affect. That was the easy part done. Now for the hard part.

His attention drifted down to that mangled arm. He already had a strip of torn cloth tied tightly around it as a makeshift tourniquet just above where the damage stopped. Crude, but it did the job. It kept him from bleeding out, at least. He pulled the limb out to lay perpendicular to the boy's body, making sure he couldn't accidentally get more than just his arm. It would be a waste going through all this just to inadvertently kill him anyway. He grabbed hold of the machete he'd set off to the side, noting that the handle was starting to get a little loose on him. Oh well. A little duct tape would fix that, but he'd worry about it later. Roadhog braced his free hand on Junkrat's shoulder as he raised the blade above his head.

The cut was swift and clean, going all the way through the first time. Junkrat let out a small shout, but his senses were dulled enough by the alcohol and shock-induced delirium that he didn't put up a fight about it. Roadhog doubted the kid would even remember this part, he was so out of it. That was for the best, he supposed. Especially since the worst part was yet to come.

He tossed the amputated limb off to the side before reaching over to grab his shovel out of the fire. He wrapped his fingers firmly around the boy's scrawny upper arm, holding it with as much force as he dared without snapping it like the twig it was. He then braced his arm across the boy's chest to keep him planted against the ground as he pressed the back of the red-hot shovel head against the end of that bloody stump.

That action seemed to snap Junkrat back to the world of the living. A loud scream tore from his throat, his eyes snapped open, wide and alert. He thrashed wildly under Roadhog's hold, his one remaining hand clawing desperately at the gigantic, immovable arm that pinned him to the ground. The man did his best to tune it all out, to ignore the screams, ignore the putrid smoke rising from where hot metal pressed against exposed muscle, ignore the scent of burning flesh that managed to seep through his mask's filters. Only when he was sure it was enough did he pull the shovel away.

Junkrat dissolved into a twitching, sobbing mess after that, tears and snot running freely down his filthy little face where just a moment ago he hadn't the energy to cry. Even so, Roadhog doubted the boy was aware enough at the moment to fully register what had occurred. All he knew just then was pain, and he reacted to it as any child his age might. The Junker Enforcer let out a sigh, trying his best to look away. There were those damned feelings again, creeping up where they shouldn't. Guilt. Pity. Something else. Something he hadn't felt in so long that he didn't know what to call it anymore. He was too exhausted from the day's events to fight it anymore.

He reached behind his head, unbuckling his mask.

Roadhog was brought back to the present when the beeping of Junkrat's heart monitor suddenly increased in frequency. He looked down at the younger man in concern, watching as his face scrunched up in what almost seemed to be distress, his teeth gritting under his oxygen mask, his hand clenching tightly at the bed sheets. It almost looked as though he were having a nightmare. Though it was a rare sign of movement from his abnormally still companion, Roadhog hated to see him like that.

The Junker Enforcer took a quick look around the room, checking to make sure Mercy wasn't fluttering about. Once he was sure they were alone, he reached over to run his hand gently through the younger man's hair in an effort to calm him. He leaned down, his mask inches from his companion's ear, and, as softly as his ragged voice would allow, began to sing.

"Kookaburra sits in the ol' gum tree,
Merry merry king of the bush is he.
Laugh, Kookaburra, laugh, Kookaburra,
Gay your life must be."