Scorch (Junkrat X Reader)

III: The rat

I attempted to stifle my gasp, but it was simply impossible. I don't think anyone really expected the two most unlikely candidates for the position to appear but yet, here they where.

The lengthier Junker waltzed into the room with gusto and let out a high pitched cackle, lifting his grenade launcher over his shoulder before addressing the crowd.

"Ello mates! Junkrat and Roadhog if you please!"

The colossal man, that I assumed was Roadhog, let out a huff and nodded his head in agreement. He was gruff and sturdy looking, was covered in tattoos and body armor. In his gargantuan hands he clutched a silver chained hook and a scrap gun. To top it all off, he had adorned a piglike gas mask, the kind that gave no sign of sanity or life lingering behind the empty eyeholes.

Roadhog moved back a couple steps, making room for his companion to stand in front of him. My eyes flitted to the other, who had started fidgeting and pacing the small space on the makeshift stage.

Junkrat was thin, dirty, and covered in freckles and moles. His features resembled those of a rat. A long pointy nose, thin arms, and small circular ears just to name a few. He was shirtless like Roadhog, but instead wore cargo shorts rather then pants. The cloth seemed to be falling apart at the seams, only held together with a few patches and bits of thread. He sported a grenade launcher, mines, a steel trap and some kind of remote control tire?

Although his hair was singed and smoldering, his thick bushy eyebrows remained, raised high above his chocolate orange eyes to sport his wild smile. The most notable feature to me was his missing limbs, which where replaced by bright orange metal prosthetics. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of them. They looked busted and broken and yet he managed to maintain a perfect balance with the peg leg and even had full control over all of the digits in his metallic hand. I felt a pang if jealousy just watching him flex his fingers around on the stage. It wasn't fair. Mine where in desperate need of a revamp and a paint job.

The room watched in anticipation, waiting for the introductions to begin. But before it started, Junkrat had hobbled over to where 76 sat and muttered something under his breath. He watched expectantly as Junkrat handed him a disheveled envelope from the backpack that he had hoisted around his shoulders. 76 nodded and took the ruined parcel with caution, tucking it away into his coat pocket.

The secrecy of the exchange worried me. Neither Hana or Lucio bothered to do so. Maybe they where treated differently because of their pasts, they looked like they where definitely involved with crime.

Nonetheless, I stared as Junkrat made his was way across the makeshift stage and back beside Roadhog. Something about his unusual stature caused me to stare at him for longer then was necessary.

When a persons appearance is so incredibly abstract, it's hard to look away. He didn't seem appealing in the slightest, but the way the fire glistened at the tips of his hair was simply mesmerizing and impossible to ignore.

As Junkrats eyes swept  the room, I felt his gaze linger in my direction. I tore my eyes away and stared at my lap, taking note of my own dull grey prosthetic. I cringed, a pinkish blush dusting my cheeks. How horrible, someone as atrocious as Junkrat seeing me act like that. He probably thinks I was checking him out or something.

Fucking disgusting.

Soldier 76 cleared his throat and drew my attention back to the stage. His sermon was brief and not too revealing. It was stated that the two where mercenaries from Australia, only allowed because of their incredible skill as soldiers and engineers. 

As he droned on, I felt Junkrat glancing over at me past the crowds of people surrounding the stage. I stiffened and lowered my head to hide from his line of sight, anxiously pushing my hair in front of my face.