A Lost Soul

I : Enough is enough

Junkrat paced back and forth in the dimly lit hideout, his boot thudding loudly against the cold concrete floor. The frustration bubbled inside him, but he tried to keep it under control. Roadhog stood in the doorway, arms crossed, watching him silently. His presence was like a shadow—silent, looming, and heavy.
Junkrat's hands trembled slightly as he clenched them into fists.

-"Damn it ! Damn it all !" he growled, kicking a crate across the room. The sharp clang of metal echoed in the silence, but Roadhog didn't flinch.

-"Queen took everything from me," Junkrat continued, though his voice was quieter now.

-"Everythin' I worked for... all gone 'cause of her stupid condition of.... Death's punishment or ... the price of her «goodness» to leave us alive or...whatever..." He muttered under his breath, still pacing.

Roadhog remained silent, his gaze never leaving Junkrat. His massive frame barely moved, but his eyes, hidden behind the mask, were sharp, calculating. Junkrat knew better than to push too hard. He glanced at his partner, then quickly looked away. The last thing he wanted was to provoke Roadhog right now.

-" Y'know, I coulda—" Junkrat stopped himself, his voice faltering as he tried to calm the anger that was rising. " I could've done it better, I could've grabbed the loot. But no, she had to ruin everything ! Stupid plans, stupid—"

He turned to look at Roadhog, but he knew better than anyone that Mako wasn't the type to offer comfort or reassurance. Junkrat could feel the weight of the silence hanging in the air, the tension thick enough to slice with a knife.

He paced in front of Roadhog, a frantic, skittish energy radiating off him. His blond hair stuck out in wild tufts, his movements jerky and unpredictable.

Roadhog watched him, his expression hidden behind the mask, but his mind churned with memories.

Memories of the pit.

The iron bars of the dungeon, the stench of blood and sweat, and the unforgiving sands of the fighting arena beneath Junker Queen's watchful gaze. She had been so close to executing them, her patience long gone. Roadhog could still hear the roar of the crowd, the scrape of metal against metal, and the soft, wet sound of blood hitting the ground.

Back then, Roadhog had felt nothing. Not fear, not anger—just a hollow, draining sense of inevitability. He knew he would survive; he always did. But Junkrat ? He'd been a dead man walking, and Roadhog had accepted it.

Yet, despite his outward indifference, he had never truly looked away. His eyes, hidden beneath the mask, had tracked Junkrat's every move, waiting, almost daring him to survive.

It had been their last chance to reveal the treasure, to sway the Queen's interest, to bargain for their lives. But Junkrat—stupid, stubborn Junkrat—couldn't bear to lose the only thing that gave him purpose. He had held onto the secret of his treasure, even when the blade was at his throat.

Junkrat was known for his hidden treasure, and now that he had lost it, what ?
Was he just a rat ? With no longer any reason to keep him alive, since everybody wanted to tear off his head and place it on a steel pike anyway !

Roadhog's voice finally cut through the silence, low and gruff.
- " What now ? "

Junkrat's eyes darted away :
-" Imma take back what's mine..." He forced a grin, but it wasn't as confident as it usually was.
- " I'll make the Queen regret it. You'll see. I'll make a better plan." He smiles

Roadhog didn't say anything for a long moment. Junkrat wasn't sure if that meant he didn't care, or if Roadhog just didn't need to say anything. But he could feel the weight of his silence, and it made his stomach twist.