Shackled Inmates

Confined

     Junkrat giggled, "Touchy aren'tchya?" He said to the prison officer patting him down. The officer furrowed his brows and said nothing. Junkrat laughed back and attempted to stand up straight. The weight on his shoulders was gone, literally. No more riptire, no more grenades, no concussion mines, no steel strap, no frag launcher, and not even his damned canister. 

     He had nothing. 

     Well, he had something- someone.

     Junkrat glanced behind him seeing his mountain of a bodyguard being frisked as well. But still,  for some reason, he felt useless. He felt empty without his weapons, he felt defenseless, it almost scared him. Junkrat took in a shaky breath, keeping a sly and uncaring smirk on his face to hide any doubts and worries he held inside. 

     The officer frisked Junkrat's whole body and found nothing else. Junkrat wished he had something hidden in his pockets or even in his shoes, anything to take with him. Anything to gloat about, knowing that he was smart enough to sneak it through the inspection, but there was nothing. And even if there was something, he knew that they would have found it anyways, and that made him frown. 

     Junkrat gave up on the attempt of standing up straight as the officer pushed him along, sending him through the x-ray scan. He hobbled through and paused when it beeped, loudly, and continuously. Junkrat groaned and cocked his head back, like a teenager being told to take the trash out. The officers grabbed him and frisked again. They patted and pulled at his clothes. "It's the arm!" Junkrat finally exclaimed. "And the leg, and the tooth!" He wedged a finger in his mouth and sneered, revealing the gold; a poor excuse for a tooth.

     The prisoner process felt forever to Junkrat. He entertained himself by making smart remarks, asking questions, complaining and so much more. Every now and then he'd finish a sentence by turning back to his partner and saying, "Roight Hog?" As if asking for confirmation or agreement, and as if Roadhog would actually say anything back. Sometimes, Roadhog would gumble in response and it made the pyromaniac's mouth curve into a slight smile. 

     Junkrat knew the whole process, this wasn't his first time. He hadn't been caught for a long time, but not because he was sneaky or knew how to play the game. He was just hard to catch. And the recent partnership with Roadhog made it even harder. Or maybe, even easier, considering they've finally been captured. He hadn't been in prison for a while but he vividly remembered how it worked. Usually it went x-ray, strip search, fingerprints, pictures, and then new 'outfits'. But these guys had it all switched up. Junkrat didn't know what would come next. So far it's been pictures, fingerprints, strip search, x-ray, and now he was guessing they were going to get their lavish garments and cell assignments.

     Junkrat occasionally glanced at the prison officers, noticing their gun holsters and tasers and walkie-talkies, and who knew what else they had on those belts. Roadhog noticed the smaller, lanky man examining the officer's uniform. He could tell he was trying to plan something but couldn't. Everything foiled, nothing full proof. Then the blonde looked up at him and Roadhog was almost startled. Junkrat's eyes widened and the stupid idiot smiled that same stupid-idiot smile.

"Hey! Your mask's off!" Junkrat said, straightening his back and pointing with his organic hand. "And your hair's down!"

"Shut up," Roadhog said harshly. Junkrat didn't flinch, he didn't take any offense to Roadhog's tone. He just grinned and turned his attention back to the officer's uniforms, but the picture of Roadhog's face stuck in his head. He wanted to look back again but he knew that if he stared too long the Hog would send a blow upside his head, and he didn't need a headache right this moment. But Junkrat knew he'd have plenty of time to examine his bodyguard's face from afar in prison. Plenty of time. An excruciating amount of time.

     Roadhog and Junkrat waited, heavily surveillance in a room with concrete walls and a cemented floor, until one of the officers brought a hand up to his ear and got word to bring them into the next room. Law Enforcement knew who they were, knew everything personal about them that they probably shouldn't even be able to know at all. They knew them better than they knew their selves. They knew to be careful around the fat one and not to talk to the skinny one. It encourages him they say. Don't let the blonde one get his hands on anything flammable or anything that could make a flame. Don't let the giant get close to anything sharp. They know everything, except for where they were hiding out this whole time. And Junkrat made sure to remind them.

     "Aren'tchya guys supposed to be top notch or something?" he blabbed as a handful of officers escorted them through the building's doors and hallways. Two officers firmly held Junkrat by the upper forearms, and four on Roadhog holding his forearms instead because of his height. The aussies' hands had been cuffed, hands loosely dangling in front of their bodies, hitting against their thighs as they walked. The officers paid no attention to him, keeping their heads forward and focused. They were told not to talk to him. But Junkrat knew they could hear him. "How long did it take, Hoggy? Y'know, to finally catch us? 13? 17 months all togetha?!" He gaped at them and brought a hand to his mouth, exaggerating his surprisement. He quietly gasped and did his best to keep himself from smiling. "For shame..." he whispered before bursting out into a maniacal laugh. Roadhog groaned and rolled his eyes. 

     "I wonder how many jobs were lost just trying to find us!" Junkrat threw his head back and laughed louder.

     "Quiet!" an officer yelled over Junkrat's cackling.

     Junkrat's giggles and laughs toned down, and he wheezed trying to catch his breath. He thought he was too funny. Roadhog brought his cuffed hands to his head and rubbed his temples to sooth the headache that was already starting to form. They passed through another pair of doors, a loud buzzer sounded off once and a red light blinked before they walked through. Junkrat didn't notice that this was the third pair of doors they had walked through, he was too busy humoring himself that could he barely remember if he heard the buzzer two times before. Another door, another buzz and another red light. Four. He flicked four fingers up, keeping his hands low. Four doors, at least from what he could remember. He'll ask Roadhog later, if they would saw each other again. A feeling sank to Junkrat's stomach. It never occurred to him until now. They could be separated, different cells, maybe even different prisons! No,no, no, no, no. He turned his head back to Roadhog who was being pushed along behind him. Roadhog noticed those ember eyes staring back at him. He stared back and squinted through his silver hair that draped along his face. What? Why was he looking at him like that? Junkrat gulped and forced a duchenne smile. He held up four fingers to him and cocked his head. Roadhog nodded. Right, he remembered, the number of doors to the outside was important to know. An officer jerked Junkrat back around and Junkrat released his smile, putting on a blank face instead.

     They were given clothes. Typical prison clothes, an orange jumpsuit. They were told to put them on so they did. Roadhog, having the big gut that he had, kept the jumpsuit unzipped half way and wrapped the sleeves around his waist. Junkrat wanted to copy, he never liked shirts, especially with sleeves but when he began unzipping his suit Roadhog growled. "Fine, fine, pig," Junkrat said as he cautiously threw his hands up. He wore the prison clothes how they were supposed to be worn.

     Clothed and equipped with their cell supplies, the officers lead them through another hall, longer than the other ones that they walked through. It was colder, and completely cut off from the outside world and even the rest of the prison. They were met by more officers to surveillance them as they were about to enter through a heavy and unwelcoming door, decorated with locks. Junkrat noticed that the officers by the door were stocked with more equipment and their uniforms seemed bulkier. Guards. Junkrat held back a whimper. The guards and the officers exchanged id cards and the doors were pushed open.

      The immediate sound of yelling and wailing and banging and the noise of prison men fighting to be free from their cells shot straight to their ears. Roadhog huffed with displeasure and Junkrat wore a mask of tenseness. No happy memories were stored here.

     

     The prison cells.