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funkymeihem-fiction · 5 years

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Special Delivery- Chapter 6

“Roise n’ shoine!”

A raucous voice grated inside her ears and dragged her out of her slumber. Mei groaned, huddled beneath the coarse army blanket as she curled into a tighter ball and tried to fall back asleep. Undeterred, something started poking her repeatedly in the ribs to keep her from it. Through the fog still in her head, she moaned her protest aloud and curled up even tighter.

“Zǒu kāi… I said no, Snowball. Go bother Torres,” she mumbled into the puddle of drool by her cheek.

“Wha—?” There was a pause, but then it just kept poking her even harder. “Miss Mei, wakey wakey! Mei-ky wakey! Oi!” It prodded her hard enough to make her oof. “I dunno who Snowball or Torres is, but s’time to get up!”

She thrust one arm out from under her blanket, groping blindly for her glasses. There was a shuffling noise before they were tapped impatiently against her knuckles, and she gripped onto them and dragged them under, setting them askew on her face as she finally sat up. The blanket slid off her, leaving her groggy and discombobulated with her eyes half lidded and her hair curling out at odd angles. She blinked one eye slowly, then the other…and suddenly remembered where she was.

Junkrat was grinning down at her, eerily backlit by the rising sun streaming in his kitchen window. “Well ain’t you a chipper thing in the morning! Blimey. Thought it was just all the drugs they’d pumped you with when you woke up before, but now I’m thinkin’ you just sleep like a roadkilled roo all the time.”

Startling, she wiped quickly at both eyes and whirled about on her mattress. She was still trapped in the junker hovel, dressed in little more than a flimsy jersey, and— she moved her leg and looked down to check— was still bound by the heavy chain and cuff around her ankle. Looking around frantically, it all came crashing back to her. It hadn’t been some horrible dream, and she was still…here.

Junkrat only looked amused at her alarm. “Heh! The look on your face, darl! Not much of a morning person, are we? Not to worry, not to worry, I got something what will knock you up in the morning!”

A moment later, a mug full of rather foul-smelling black coffee was shoved up under her nose, the steam fogging her glasses up. Grabbing onto it and easing the cup back down, she watched as Junkrat returned to retrieve himself a cup— or no, he just grabbed the entire glass pot out of the coffeemaker and started chugging the still-molten brew directly out of it. With a happy sigh, he wiped at his pointed chin with his arm and smacked his lips while she tried to figure out how the junker hadn’t burned his jaws right off.

“Now that’s more like it!” He crowed, caffeine already seeming to course through him. Mei wondered if the caffeine was the cause of his nearly constant jittering, but likely it only exacerbated it. He was already twitching as he hurled the pot to the side with a crash. “Who wants brekky?!”

“What time is it? How long have you been awake?” she mumbled, adjusting her glasses groggily. Taking a sip of the coffee, she winced at the flavor of boiled dirt and something akin to gasoline. But bad coffee was still coffee, and she preferred to be alert, so she drank it down all the same.

“Oh I couldn’t sleep at all! Got lots of idears about lots of things, had to get them all out. Was all riled up last night.”

She winced, clutching her mug. “Oh…I am sorry about that. I didn’t mean what I said, or how I said it. Honest.”

“Wot? How’s that, sorry for what?”

“Um, you not being able to sleep? You still being angry? At…me?” she trailed off as he just looked at her.

“Am I?” he wondered aloud. “Huh. Yeh, remember being right pissed at you, l’il love…What were we on about, again? Doesn’t matter, doesn’t matter.”

Was he trying to trick her? It was hard to tell. Mei’s eyes darted, and she took another sip of coffee to give herself another moment to think. But honesty won out in the end, when she faced him again. “No, I want to apologize. There was a misunderstanding—”

“Yeah nah, probably wasn’t important. Who wants eggies! We still got eggies!”

“But what I said…?”

“What was it you said, then?”

She didn’t want to set him off again by reminding him, that was for sure. Did he possibly have memory issues? Did she really want to dredge up the fight from the night before? The junker may not have wanted to harm her, but he was still wildly unpredictable and the last thing she wanted was to prolong her time here or make it even more unpleasant. So after a few more moments of deliberation, she offered an unsure shrug and a mumble instead.

“Um. Nothing.”

He turned his back on her, cracking egg after egg into his camp stove pan until it was nearly overflowing. “Anyhow, had lots of idears for plans on when we get you back to Sydney. And lots of things to buy once we get that tidy bit of reward, too. Who woulda thought that I snagged some sort of famous weather doctor, eh? What’re you famous for, did you discover a new sort of rain? Because if so, we could do with the kind of rain what doesn’t strip the skin right off ya.”

“Well, I’ve never been in one of the storms in Australia, but they did bring in samples of the water. It’s barely water anymore. It’s amazing that there’s any civilization out here at all.”

His chest puffed as he scrambled the eggs. “That’s junkers for ya! We can handle anything. What’s a little acid rain now and again? I drank plenty of the stuff when I was a mite and I’m just fine!”

Mei winced inwardly but chose not to comment. He soon carried her a plate of breakfast, and they both sat at the little coffee table as began yet another bizarre meal with her captor. Junkrat chattered around mouthfuls about the weather; with acid rain, raging radioactive storms, and perpetual drought being among the troubles. She tried to listen, but he seemed more intent on gruesome stories about people melting than he did on any clues to Australia’s actual weather patterns.

Eventually she was distracted by a steady ticking noise, as she finished the last bite of her eggs and looked about. “Oh, you might want to turn that off?”

“Wot?”

“The egg timer? Did you forget? For your eggs?”

He lofted a wild brow at her, tilting his head and listening to the ticking, before he made a choked barking noise and suddenly lunged up and over the coffee table, bowling her over in the process. He made a full body dive for his workbench, grabbing something off the top and jabbing his thumb onto the little metal parcel atop it. “Waaugh! Shit shit shit!”

Mei pulled herself upright again from where she’d been run over, pulling at her glasses. “Ow! What on earth!”

The ticking stopped. Junkrat lay half sprawled on his bench, relaxing with a loud sigh as he rolled onto his back amidst the screws and tools and loose metal jabbing him in the back. “Phwaw! Good ear, darl! Was working on that just before breakfast. Almost forgot about this l’il baby right here, got all distracted-like. Not to worry though, wouldn’t have been a big one even if it had gone off.”

“G-gone off? Wait is that a—” Her eyes widened. “Is that a bomb? Is that a live bomb!”

“Of course it is, what else would it be? Got a whole collection right here.”

She sputtered, waving both arms. “Why! Why do you have live explosives in your house!”

“Where else am I gonna bloody keep them, Mei! Maybe you got extra bomb closets in your fancy suit weather-mansion, but in this humble abode you just gotta make do. Plus, Roadie doesn’t want them in the garage, and he doesn’t want me in the garage workin’ on them. Aw, don’t make that face, love. It’s a small ‘un, would’ve barely made a boom…I mean, it might’ve set off a bunch of the other ones too, but nothing doing! See, it’s all fine, it’s all good! I’ve been working on these all last night, aren’t they beauties?”

“W-what do you even need so many bombs for? Can’t you keep them outside? And why did you have so many bombs outside, too? What kind of place is this? They’re not all for me, are they? They can’t be!”

“Now, now, sweetness. You’re a lovely lady and all, but let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” he replied in a rather smarmy tone, giving her an amused look. “Not all for you, per se. I’m true blue an’ love my kin and countryman to the core, but I’ll be damned before I let other junkers try to scrap mine and Roadie’s scores. Can’t trust that lot as far as you can throw them. Not at all an honest gent like myself. I’m just protecting what’s mine. You included, of course.”

“But they’re right next to where you were cooking,” she muttered in a small voice, still pale as she watched him cheekily throw the bomb up and down in one hand. “It just doesn’t seem very safe?”

“Bein’ a difficult houseguest again, you are. I’ve handled these little darlings all my life and never had any trouble. Other than the leg. And the arm. And a few toes that one time, but I found ‘em again in time. Buuuut…” He seemed to finally take notice of the way she was looking at him, and the bombs he was now literally juggling. “But can tell you’re the tender-hearted sort, so I’ll put them up for now. Never let anyone tell you I’m not a courteous host, Miss Mei!”

He finally stopped his showmanship with the live devices, stacking them up and dumping them into a crate by the door, unlocking the entry into the backyard. Undoing the locks, there were several clicks and a crank before it fell open. Hot, dry morning air rushed in, sending her hair fluttering as she shielded herself from the onslaught of heat with one raised arm.

Junkrat muttered and giggled to himself, grabbing up the crate of bombs and jostling them around entirely too much for her liking as he hobbled out the door and disappeared around the bend. The open door yawned before her, just out reach. She couldn’t help but to pull at the chain to the makeshift ankle cuff, yanking it with a clatter of heavy metal, but it was still attached too firmly to its post in the wall.

There was a sharp whistle as he poked his wild head back inside. “Oi, Mei! You need to use the toilet? Who wants walkies!”

“That’s not funny,” she groused. But she stood anyway, as he limped over to the wall and undid her chain. “And can we please discuss the whole chained-to-the-wall thing later? I know you said it’s for my own safety but you can’t j—”

He unfastened her from the wall, prodding her hard in the back to get her moving, out the door and into the scorching sand yard. “Yeah nah. Until I can really trust you t’be a good girl, I gotta make sure you won’t be causing us any more trouble. Hog’ll have my bloody hide, he would, just having you wander about. Speaking of!”

They approached the dunny outhouse once more, though Rat seemed oddly attentive as he straightened up behind Mei and lifted his shrill voice.

“Oi, Hog, mate! That you in there?”

Mei blinked. There was no sign of anyone else that she could see. But after a moment there was a low rumble that reverberated from inside the metal cylinder. “…Hhmm.”

The door flung open and a meaty black-nailed hand launched forward to grasp onto the corrugated metal. The massive pig-masked man from the day before ducked his huge body under the frame and turned sideways to angle his protruding belly out with him, scraping the sides as he squeezed through. Outside, he cut an even more imposing figure, casting both Junkrat and Mei into his shadow as he slowly lifted all the way upright. The fogged lenses of his mask stared like a dead thing’s, catching the light bouncing off the sand and reflecting red as he stared down at them.

Mei very quietly edged behind the lanky younger junker, barely daring to peek one eye around him, wide eyed and wary behind her glasses.

Junkrat had no such trepidation. He only wrinkled his nose, scrunching the freckle on the side of his nostril as he waved a hand in front of his face. “Awww! Bloody hell, Hog! What’d you eat! Warn a bloke and light a fuckin’ match, would ya! We got ladies present!”

At the mention of ladies, Roadhog’s head turned imperceptibly to the side to where the smaller woman was cowering behind his young partner. Mei shrank down even more, forgetting her wariness of Junkrat as she all but clung to his bony back, no matter the amount of ash and dirt he smeared on her. Rat blinked and lifted one arm, turning to look under it at where she had recoiled.

“And they say I’m the one who sets off bombs. Weapon of mass destruction, you are. Look at her, mate. Looks ready to faint again right here and now, the poor bird. Not to worry, darl,” he said, pulling her up against his side and petting her head like a favorite pet. “You’re probably used to things like bidets and perfumes and toilet paper, bet you’re real sensitive in the olfactory areas, eh? Here, I’ll go in there first while it airs out. That’s the gentlemanly thing to do, ain’t it! Hog, you look after her for a moment. Uh…Mei? Mei!”

He had started to try and walk forward, only to have Mei wrap her arms around his scrawny waist, shaking her head frantically as she stared at the pig-masked killer in front of them. But Rat only dragged her forward with him, and she quailed when she saw him lean down and pick up her chain, placing it in the hand of his monstrous bodyguard.

Rat beamed down at her even as he started to peel her off of him. “There we are! Not to worry, this big galumph won’t hurt you. Will ya, Hoggie?”

Roadhog’s black-nailed fingers clenched slowly around the chain in answer.

***

Junkrat finished his business while his mate watched the girl. Buttoning his shorts back up, he exited the dunny and left the door open to air the place out for his company. Roadhog was standing exactly where he’d left him, holding the chain where Mei was standing as far away as possible and looking ready to piss herself right then and there. Poor thing, she must have really had to go.

“Arright, your turn Miss Mei. Go on, go on,” he said, motioning to Roadhog to drop the chain.

It clattered to the ground, and Mei gave his standover man a very wide berth as she clenched her sports jersey down as much as she could and scuttled into the outhouse, muttering in shrill Mandarin that he couldn’t entirely make out. The door slammed shut, and Junkrat turned to his bodyguard with a smug grin.

“See! No choking or ball-busting this time. No more misbehavin’ from her. She’s gonna be a good girl after all. I told you!”

Roadhog merely rumbled a disagreement.

Junkrat stretched upward, bones creaking as he turned towards the blinding sunlight. “Think I was mad at her, though? Can’t remember why. Think it was something she said…She doesn’t like bombs very much, maybe it was that? Or did I dream it? Anyhow, came to a decision. Need to go into town and fetch a few lady things. We can’t very well return her in that sort of state, half starkers. S’not what gents do. Soooo, I’m going to head out in a bit, might need you to—”

“No,” Hog said.

“Just for a few hours! Oh come on! We’re mates, you and me. I don’t want to leave her wastin’ away all alone in there for too long. She’s a social creature, Roadie. And she’s housebroken and everything. You won’t even know she’s there. Just need you to keep an eye on her for a bit, that’s all.”

“Your pet. Your responsibility.”

Rat scoffed and kicked his peg into the dirt, sending dust flying. “We’re not going to look like heroes if we just dump her off in my old Strikers shirt. It’s got to be proper classy, like legit heroes do. And she needs things to stay tip-top. I’ll know them when I see them, sure. If you could keep tabs on her for a few ticks, it’s worth our while!”

“Not my problem. Tie her up back in the house.”

“Wait!” Junkrat sputtered, growing desperate as Hog turned and started back towards his farmhouse. He stumbled a few steps after him, dodging around to his front and walking backwards to confront him further. “Wait wait wait! Let’s make a deal, mate! How about I pick up a new thingy of hogdrogen while I’m in Junkertown?”

“Nhmm.”

“You already got enough? Uh, uh, books! I heard they got new shipments of your swooning ladybooks! You can’t live without those!”

“Nhmmm…”

“No? Uh, er. Takeaway!” Rat finally screeched in his face. “My treat! A whole bag of bao buns! And, and, a box of Queenie Biscuits and I swear on me life I won’t even eat any of them this time! Wait, wait, two boxes! Three! Three boxes!”

Roadhog stopped, wheezing in a long inhale through the mask’s filters. Junkrat stood with his clenched fists raised, biting hard onto his lower lip and staring up at him in what he hoped what a charming manner.

“Takeaway. And three boxes,” Hog finally rumbled. “That’s three boxes, no less.”

“Won’t be a crumb missin’, mate, swear it!” Junkrat slammed one hand over his heart. “Won’t at all be like last time.”

“Hhmm.”

“Not that there was any proof that it was me, mind you. All sorts of pesky rodents about, coulda gotten into your stash. Or spiders. Was prob’ly spiders, now that I think of it.”

“Hmm.”

“Anyways, she’s all yours for the next while. You know the rules. No harmin’ a hair on that pretty head, got it? Just go get a place ready for her and I’ll drop her off in just a bit before I head in.”

Hog leaned down abruptly, the pig’s snout nearly mashing into Rat’s face as the younger man nearly keeled backward. His voice was lower than usual, like the threatening rumble of thunder. “Keep. Your head. Down. Don’t do anything stupid. Don’t make this worse.”

“What? Me? Roadie, I’m hurt,” Rat snapped back, slithering back around his bodyguard’s huge belly as he went sauntering back towards the outhouse. “It’s all going according to plan. Sure our plan’s changed a little bit since that day, but plans change, mate. You’ll still get your coin, coin and cookies. What else could a man like you ask for, ya big galumph? Plus, you two can have bonding time! You know, where my best mate gets to really sit down with my best girl, have a heart to heart. Not in a romantic way, mind you. Say, you’re not having designs on her, or are y—”

Roadhog didn’t answer, already vanishing back into the yawning doors of his farmhouse.

With an offended sniff, Rat pivoted on his peg and returned to where Mei had just exited the dunny, looking a little sick as she shut the door behind her. Junkrat sidled up nearby, leaning one hand on the wall as he towered over her with a grin. “You need some charcoal, love? No shame in the runs here, I know it’s not caviar and mayonnaise like you’re used to. If you got messy guts, just pop a few charcoals and you’ll be right as rain.”

Mei only winced. “N-none for me, thank you. Can we not talk about that?” She hiked self-consciously at her jersey again, trying to pull it down where it constantly rode up those nice wide thighs of her.

He tried not to watch that part, clearing his throat and making himself look at the face again, launching out one hand to her shoulder to still her when she went to turn away. “Wait wait wait, not back to the house yet. Got a bit of a surprise.”

Her eyebrows lifted hopefully. “Really? Are we going to take this awful chain off? Oh, I’m so glad!”

“W-well, we can talk more about that part later,” he shrilled, going to wrap one long arm around her shoulders in the smoothest way he could…which was not very smooth at all. And not helped by the fact that she was so tiny and cute and barely reached up to his chest. It ended up more sort of dangling around her shoulder vicinity. “Step riiiight this way. Attagirl.”

Mei looked down at his hand in a rather unsure way, but she let herself be guided to walk around the long stretch of the backyard between their two houses. The chain dragged behind her in the dust the whole way, but she followed his lead.

Rat sucked on a tooth noisily, clearing his throat. “The thing is, I actually got to go and get some of the surprise.”

“Okay?”

They neared the old farmhouse, with Mei looking more and more nervous by the second. When they paused near one of the side entrances, he spun her about to face him, leaning down to her level. “Might be gone for a bit, actually. These things take time, you know! But me leaving by your lonesome didn’t end so well for my telly, did it? And it breaks my heart t’think of you by yourself in case of emergency and all. Plus, think it’d do you good, teach you to be more friendly. So I made some arrangements.”

Mei’s brow furrowed. “Arrangements? I’m sorry, I don’t think I understand? Is this about the television? I really do apologize for that. A-and for the things I said. I’m not sure you remember, but I didn’t mean them like that and I want to be honest with you.”

“Is that what I was pissed at you about? Really, darl, it’s nothing.” Rat tilted his scorched head, blinking down at the little weather doctor before him. She had stopped flinching away from him, still shy but at least able to face him. Her voice was earnest, and he was suddenly unsure how to handle her strange little apology confession for things he could scarcely recall.

“No, it was mean. And even if you don’t remember it, I still wanted to say sorry. I-I know we haven’t been the best at understanding one another…”

She never noticed the door opening behind her.

“Things have been pretty hard for me,” she continued, “Not just in the way you think. And that doesn’t mean that I’m okay with some of the things you’ve been doing! But I’m hoping that maybe if I apologize, then you can apologize too. And we can start to build towards a mutual—”

Roadhog’s enormous hand shot out from the darkness inside the dimmed farmhouse, encompassing Mei’s entire arm. Her words lifted into a high-pitched scream as she was abruptly taken right off her feet, dragged into the shadows within. Her terrified wail moved around somewhere inside the house, and the chain still attached to her ankle rattled louder than ever as it was dragged in after her.

Junkrat started in after them. “Damnit, Roadie! We was in the middle of something there! Oi oi! Remember, you gotta feed her and make sure she’s cozy! Oh, Mei! Try not to—”

The door slammed in his face, narrowly missing flattening his nose. He reeled back, rubbing at his face as the noises inside were cut off all at once. He pounded a fist on the door a few times, then snorted and shrugged, cupping both hands around his mouth to shout at the window.

“Arright! Well, you two have fun! But not too much fun! I expect both of you t’be responsible while I’m gone!”

When there was no answer, Junkrat gave another offended sniff and turned and started on his way.

***

The journey to Junkertown proper was no small travel, especially when walking with one leg. The ute was already being stripped for pieces back at the garage, and touching Hog’s chopper would have been tantamount to suicide, so he was left to hoof it. Past the ruined outskirts that littered the sand outside the town’s walls, he shoved both hands in his pockets and skulked as hard as he could to remain beneath notice. There were times to be noticed, after all, and even if he couldn’t always tell when that was, he knew to keep a low profile if needed.

The other junkers barely glanced his way, luckily. Traveling in the heat of the day was brutal, but there was a window where most of his brethren were either too lazy or too tired to bother with someone like him. In most of the buildings he passed, they were content with wiling away the noontime in the shade of the indoors; napping, tinkering, playing cards, and laughing and arguing amongst themselves.

With sweat pouring off him, he wiped an arm across his brow and limped up to the guard post by one of the smaller entries. The walls of Junkertown stretched up high, high above him: buildings made of scrap and garbage, stacked atop one another in untidy heaps, fortified with rusted metal, suspicion, and often unchecked aggression. With the sun high above him, he was even left without the shade that its high walls provided. Junkertown simply hated him that much.

The faint tunes of crackling beach rock were playing from up in the guard post, and he saw one bare dark leg slung over the railing where she was reclining. Drawing himself upright, he cleared his throat loudly and wheedled in his most charming manner.

“Ooooh Tarni! Listen, darl, I know that technically I ain’t supposed to be lurking about here, but…”

The leg was dragged back into the post, and soon replaced with a head. Her dreads had been twisted into a tied bundle, her cheeks dotted with white paint and bearing a nasty scar on one side of her face. He heard the familiar whir of her mechanical eye as it zeroed in on him. Her frown was not particularly encouraging, and neither was the cold tone of her voice.

“Junkrat,” she said. “You know the Queen says you’re still on the outs. Until you pay her back for all the damage. And you don’t look like you got the kind of payment she’s expecting after all the shit you pulled.”

He clasped both hands and grinned his most harmless grin. “Aw, Tarni, y’know me! I’m still working on getting things squared with dear Queenie. You just gotta give me more time. And maybe I don’t have the kind of payment she’s expecting…but how about a payment what you’d accept, eh? You and me, we’re pals—”

“Like hell.”

“Fond acquaintances, then! And I’m not for trouble here, no no no, just needing to pick up some supplies for me and Roadie, that’s all. The big lug’s got a taste for some things and can’t be arsed, so I just need to run in and run out. Quick as a wink, darl!”

“Shut your gob and pay up. Same as last time.”

He grumbled, digging in his pockets before flashing a handful of coin, approaching the guard post and stretching up to hold it upward. “Even got a little extra for you if you can buy me some extra time.”

“We’ll see.” There was a clicking sound, then a mechanical buzz as Tarni’s gloved hand came loose in its mechanical socket, lengthening down on a piston with her palm open. Rat placed the payment within, her fingers clacking down over it before she wound it back in. She counted it out where he couldn’t see, but finally snorted aloud and upnodded to him. “All right. But if you cause any trouble for me, I swear I’ll kill you before the Queen can.”

“Tarni, Tarni, won’t be any trouble at all!” He swerved into an exaggerated gentlemanly bow as the doors to Junkertown fell open for him. “Like I said. Just in and out. Heh…Hehe…in and out…”

“Ugh. Just go.”

He went.

Just like the outskirts, most of the town’s inhabitants were avoiding the noonday sun. The streets were nearly empty, save for a few transports and their guards, and the occasional pedestrian or watcher. Nobody of any status or mind to bother him, hopefully. With Tarni payed off, he had a bit of extra wiggle room. And he was very good at wiggling.

He knew just which stores to hit, too. He filled his bag with toilet paper, candies, meds, and other supplies; all payed for with his last haul from Mei’s ill-fated caravan. Most of the shopkeeps kept a wary eye on him, but let him pay and leave without trouble. Junkertown may have had a despotic Queen, but coin was King. So long as he actually paid up this time, they let him be.

The last shop, if it could even be called a shop, would be the hardest. Down the lower alleyways, past the last stops of the scrapheap and two-bit parts that even junkers didn’t want, there were the hastily-made and hastily-put away tents of the contraband merchants. Junkrat knew many of them. Although like everyone else in Junkertown, it couldn’t precisely be called a positive relationship.

So he wasn’t surprised at the glare of uninterested disgust he received as he approached one of the tents. The junker in charge, a man who was shorter than him and nearly as scrawny, leaned back in his chair and idly waved to shoo away the flies.

“Rat. Who let you back in?” His voice had been lost years ago, replaced with a computerized box lodged in his throat.

“Oh ya know, mate! I squeeze in here and there. You, er, you still sellin’ the stuff?”

“What you lookin’ to buy, ‘mate’? And how much?”

“The hard stuff. We’re talking Tim Tams and Kooka’s. Vovo’s even, if you got ‘em. Three boxes. I’m good for it.”

The man uttered a mechanical grinding noise that Rat knew to be derisive, and started to turn away before Rat flashed more coin at him. Even then, he looked him up and down doubtfully before he pulled aside the curtains a little more. Boxes of contraband from the outside; everything from cookies to ammo to vials of unidentified power to…

Rat’s eyes widened at something hanging up on the side of one of the shelves. Hanging haphazardly, there was a blue floral sundress that didn’t fit in at all with the rest of the smuggled goods: a bright spot of color in Junkertown’s world of muted browns and yellows. It would look perfect on a non-junker. It would look perfect on Mei. It even looked like it would be her exact size and shape, too. And attached was some kind of hairpin thingy of Asian origin, with a dangling bead chain.

Junkrat was already pointing at it furiously. “What’s that! Oi, that there!”

The smuggler looked up from where he was sorting through a stack of boxes. “A dress. Imported.”

“It’s for fancy lady sorts, right?”

“Guess so.”

He could already see her in it. He’d buy her a fancy lady dress, and she’d put it on and finally stop looking so uncomfortable. He’d get the hairpin, too, and she’d thank him and kiss his cheek. She could stand out in the sun in a bit shady hat, with a little fragrant breeze ruffling the pastel floral fabric, and there wouldn’t be any dust on the dress or on her pale soft skin. And then maybe the wind could whip a little harder, and it would start lifting up the bottom of her dress, and she’d giggle and try to use both hands to press it back down like that babe on those movie posters from ages ago. But the wind would lift it up anyhow, and maybe she’d be wearing lacies under the—

“Stop drooling on the merchandise!” the merchant’s buzzing voice snarled, pulling a box out from under him.

Rat startled, jolting upright and wiping at his chin with one arm. “Uh! Right! Right! I’ll take it! The fancy lady dress and pin, I’m buyin’ it too!”

“You want the dress? What for?”

“F-for? Foooor? It’s for…for private occasions, arright! Three boxes of biscuits and the fancy things! I’m good for it, see!” He fumbled in his pockets again, sloppily pulling up a stack of coins and credits and nearly sending them all flying in his haste to slam it onto the merchant’s table. “Give ‘em here!”

The merchant seemed strangely agreeable to the amount for once. The boxes of cookies were wrapped inside the dress, tied into paper, and wrapped up into an assuming parcel. With a shrill cackle of delight, Rat scooped it up and shoved it under one arm, stroking the packaging greedily with his good hand as he went hobbling back down the alley.

“And the good luck keeps on comin’! What a score! Hang on, darl, I’m on the way.”

***

The merchant watched him go, quickly tugging the curtains shut. With a quick glance around, he trailed after Junkrat at a distance, following the jittery young junker all the way out of his territory. He lingered at the very edge of the last alleyway, the one that opened into the junkyards proper, and watched as Rat’s limping gait took him across to the Koala Takeaway.

He was still watching as the triumphant Rat filled up his bag with Chinese dishes and stacks of bao. The bag was already bulging with supplies and goods, goods that weren’t nearly as ill-gotten as usual. The merchant reached into his ragged coat, pulling out a communicator and mashing his dirty thumb on the button.

“Hey, Boss. Someone actually bought one of the dresses. And some of the jewelry. With plenty of credits he never seemed to have before. Yeah?…Yeah. And you’re not ever going to guess what kind of rat we caught in the trap…”

#meihem #junkmei #meirat #junkrat #jamison fawkes #mei #mei-ling zhou #roadhog #mako rutledge #overwatch #fanfiction #writing #junkertown #australia #uh

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trixcuomo · 5 years

Text

Final?? Org Daily Mail Interview With Trixany Cuomo

Approx. 10 min read. The Org Daily Mail liquors Trixany up and let’s ‘er rip. BTW Trix has a guild tag now, but I did leave her unguilded for a while and it inspired me.

Alternate title: Free Trixany!

Org: So, Trixany…

Trix: Eyup.

Org: Eyup.

Random Orc #1: …Eyup.

Random Orc #2: Uh-huh. *hands out the beer*

Trix: Wow. Kaja Cola makes beer? Nice. *has a big sip*

Org: Sort of. Miss Trixany Cuomo, thank you for joining us again.

Trix: Yeah. Being here for the second time is… meh. I guess. And I figure the Trixany versus the Org Daily Mail, love-hate relationship thing has to end sometime, right? You know, this Kaja Cola beer is unusually good. It’s even giving me ideas!

Org: Well done, Trixany. You’ve earned a toffee.

Trix: Haha, nice! *spins in her swivel chair*

Org: Let’s get to it--

Trix: Ooh! I know a girl in another video game who says that. She’s good with a whip. And if I ever, as a video game character, did a cosplay of another video game character, like inside my game? It would totally be Franziska Von Karma.

Org: What… the heck are you talking about now, Trixany?

Trix: *gulps more Kaja Cola beer from the can, swivels*

Camera man: *chuckles*

Org: *starts ignoring Trixany* Alright. So, a lot has happened since the last time you were in the Org Daily Mail studio. Care to explain?

Trix: Oh cool! Yeah, I was wanting to talk about that—wait, do you mean about my glam fishing project?

Org: Welp, this episode will be boring and drop our ratings then… *mutters, annoyed* No, tell us about something more… spicy.

Trix: Okay so, me and Haris Pilton finally had that knock-down, drag-out fight that witch deserved. But then, someone got cute and put us in the same ghetto Lower City Hospital ward. *shrugs, swivels* Which only led to a re-match.

Org: Woah. That’s awful, Trixany. We’re so sorry to hear that someone out there finally took a swing at you… *winks at the camera*

Trix: No, she’s the rotten one. After her little dog stopped being cute, Paris stole my pet dragon whelp Nautistrasz, saying it wasn’t ‘my brand.’ And I told her that her brand is trashbags and Febreeze! Then, she hit me. *tears up* I’m a Bloodknight. She started it, I finished it. Retribution comes with the territory. *sips her beer, calms* Anyway, it ended on a good note. After they transferred me to Scryers Hospital and my recovery was almost finished, I figured—hey, I’m already in here. Might as well get some work done. And there are some treatments you can only get for a good price in Outland. Can you see it? I sort of have a new face now, like that Kardashian girl. *puckers* It’sh shubtle, but alsho mega poutier, shee?

Org: Uh… Hokaaay...

Camera man: How do we trick her into talking about the really good stuff that’ll get her jailed again? Try that!

Org: Ah! So, I see that you’re currently guildless. Isn’t that a bit shameful for someone at your level? A bit… sad? Aren’t you lonely? Angry? Angry enough to start fighting people, or to start some other crazy drama? Maybe shave your head? Attack a Goblin trike with a baseball bat? Punch a camera man in the face like Kanye while you’re walking out of the Mankirk’s Wife Memorial Airport*, right at the heart of Orgrimmar?!

Camera man: Or, you could not encourage her to punch me in the face…

Trix: Wait, is the zeppelin… place… is it called that?

Org: Yeah, it’s pretty sweet. The new zeppelins are now tricked out in all those Quilboar hides that were just piling up in the Barrens, but few people know. Actually, we’re going to start calling it Mankirk’s Wife Memorial Airport after we crash the zeppelin master’s association dinner and finally expose them. Can’t wait. Muahaha…

Camera man: Yeah, you have to tune in for the next episode!

Trix: Mhrm, *files nails* I figured that seemed more like something -you guys- would do.

Org: Now, about you being guild-free and ready to hurt people and also raise our ratings?

Trix: I know, I know, whenever you see someone max-level without a guild tag, it’s like… I dunno, seeing someone who’s clearly not wearing a bra and it’s kind of awkward? And also kinda hawt. But I think you guys can handle that from Trixany. Like right now. We’re hangin’ out and everyone’s fine.

Org: … Wait.

Camera man: Woah. And now, this episode is being banned in Thundberbluff, the Exodar, Stormwind… Not Goldshire, for some reason.

Trix: Being guild-free is liberating, it’s wild! Another thing, being guildless is like being bra-less in that it’s also nobody’s bloody business. I tell those haters, ‘Don’t spam me with your life advice—I look great!’

Org: *clears throat and carefully looks her in the eye* Well, um. But don’t you sometimes feel like you need… more support? Social support, I mean.

Camera man: Sure, Bill. Whatever you say, Bill...

Trix: Nah, I got friends. I still hang out with all the Kaja-Cola girls, too—Actually, there’s talk of us re-forming our girl band. Our new single is going to be unbelievable. Mega Meghan Mango and I wrote it. I think we’re calling it… Roleplay Got Back? It’s the cutest song. And scandalous, yet empowering. And hilarious. Which is like, exactly my brand. Stupid Haris….

Org: Wait, let’s go back to the free Trixany thing—

Trix: Wanna sample? I know one of the verses. Let’s see… *turns her rose red RET HO snapback the other way, and gestures aggressively* My emote anaconda don’t want none unless your roleplay got buns hon!

Org: STOP!! Now, about your lack of a guild… Ratings… need ratings… Trixany! Wouldn’t you be more comfortable if you went around in a um…? And, I mean, I’m a guy, but still-- aren’t there benefits to having one of those… *trails off, looks her cautiously in the eye again* Anyway! I’m just saying, we here at the Org Daily Mail, a quality family show, are very concerned because, without a bra-- a guild! Without a guild, you might stick out too much—No! What I’m saying is, you won’t fit in with other people! And you get less experience. Your mail doesn’t get delivered as fast, right? And aren’t there certain battle pets and other stuff you won’t be able to buy? Is being an individual really worth it?

Trix: I think I stick out just fine. Also, I have plenty of amazing experiences, the mail man always visits me first, and I walk right up to the front of the line at the auction house. They just let me. I even get a discount. Thanks, Drezmit! He’s taking me out this weekend. Aww, isn’t that so sweet of him? He says he’s been worried about me.

Org: *Tries hard not to laugh*

Camera man: Holy crap. I think she’s actually onto something there.

Org: Hold on. *feigning serious again* Are you… saying that you planned this? Going, let’s call it ‘tag-less’, is a real strategy for you?

Trix: Either that, or I just don’t care. *gulps more beer* Do you know what? Maybe it’ll be like that ‘I kissed a girl’ song or that thong song and everyone will start dropping their guild tags for the realer benefits, am I right? I mean, you’ll go to Club Night Owl and be like dancing, and then some hottie without a guild tag will walk in, and then they turn up the music, shine that spotlight, and suddenly everybody just drops their guild tags too, and parties even harder!

Org: Yeah, that won’t happen.

Trix: It could trend, you don’t know. Like glam fishing. I will force glam fishing to be a trend if I have to. Ouch! Sorry—kinda TMI I know, but this bra has been pinching me all day.

Org: Sure it is and I guess I’ll finally ask you… What’s glam fishing? Is this like a low-budget glamping that only Horde B celebrities would be into?

Trix: Seriously? Someone is finally asking me? Yes! Oh goodness, now I’m nervous. I invented it myself, it’s so cool. And it’s perfect if like, you feel your toon, IC’ly, would never dirty their hands with fishing, like me. Well, first, you find a beautiful fishing spot. Next, and this part is most important, you--

Org: Wait, nevermind! My camera man here says we’re out of time. *fake smile* Trixany, we can’t thank you enough for coming into the Org Daily Mail studio and telling us how you are. We care so much and we’re so glad that you’re out of rehab now and doing the topless thing—

Trix: It wasn’t that kind of rehab, and I would never do that! Why would you say that? Are you somehow twisting my words? I thought our last lawsuit settled this! *her speech slows* Wait, whyyyy did I blaaather on the way I did? What’s in thiiiiis friggin’ beer? And WHY did you saaaay this episode was being banned eeeeveryplace but Goldshire??

Org: And thank you all for watching! Remember everyone, the Org Daily Mail cannot be held liable for any gross misinterpretations of what its employees actually said and did today in the studio. Org Daily Mail is also a subsidiary of the Kaja-Cola Corporation: ‘We don’t exploit our workers, we exploit big flavor!’ *cheesy TV grin* Now everybody, you know how it works. Let’s say it together!

All: FOR THE HORDE, AND GOOD NIGHT!

Trix: Waaugh! *Falls out of her swivel chair.*

…

*Note:

Special thanks to a random stranger I talked to a whiiiiiiile back on an alt for the Mankirk’s Wife Memorial Airport idea. Sadly, I can’t remember your name! I joked about all the Quilboar hides piling up in the Horde probably going into the airport in Orgrimmar; that our zeppelins would be covered with them. And then, they laughed and said that if I saw the zeppelin towers as an airport (and it SO totally is) then it would have to be called Mankirk’s Wife Memorial Airport. I can even see Blizz putting a sign up there that says it. Can’t you? Okay so… possibly. And also some NPCs curing Quilboar hides as well as towing parcels… It’s kinda goofy, but I love it. Thank you, kind stranger! I hope it catches on. Another reason why I love this game. Random encounters with really, really fun people. Hahaha!

#mankirks wife memorial airport #warcraft

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