silhouette target

Some people have been talking about a cinematic for Junkrat and Roadhog. And a lot of people want it to have a kiss happen. I’m sitting here like “YES!!! MORE ROADRAT!”

But here’s what my second choice would be.

We see Roadhog, growling angrily, out of breath, navigating a junk yard. He throws his hook at something by one of the piles and we see a peg leg disappear behind the pile. He hurries in that direction trying to catch his target, grabbing a handful of scrap and throwing it into the scrap gun. A teasing laugh heard in the background, Roadhog turns to see a spiky tire heading his way, he blasts it with the scrap gun, and it blows up the three closest piles. That laugh again, louder this time as debris scatters around. Roadhog turns to the laugh, and lets out a frustrated roar as he throws his hook again, just as the silhouette of his target jumps off the top of the scrap pile. He’s getting tired, but his target is running out of places to run.

Finally he’s driven the little annoyance into a corner. He can still hear that laugh. He spots the glowing orange tips of his targets burning hair as he scrambles up a large pile. That is when Roadhog goes Hog Wild, blasting away at his target, who only just manages to dodge the shrapnel being fired at him. It knocks a lot of the junk loose and he lets out a content growl as his prey begins to fall. He makes his way closer and grabs the skinny man by his neck as he is getting to his foot.

Rather than looking scared at the scrap gun pointed at his face, the captive is grinning, holding his frag launcher up to Roadhog’s chest, and has his detonator in his other hand. “Oh you’re fun.” he laughs. Roadhog growls and is about to squeeze his neck “I wouldn’t do that if I were you!” his captive says glancing down, Roadhog looks down to see a mine at his feet. “Fell roight into my trap.”

Roadhog, frustrated, releases Junkrat “What do you want?” he rasps.

“Been in the market fer some protection.” Junkrat explains. “Ya came closer to killin’ me than anyone’s ever got. Makes ya the perfect candidate for my bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard…” Roadhog says. “What if I say no?”

“Hmm. Wouldn’t recommend it.” Junkrat says with a smug look and a shrug, waving the detonator.

“and if I say yes?” Roadhog asks.

Junkrat grins wickedly and the screen goes black with the sound of his laugh.

Trigger Happy - Kankri

based on this headcanon

As with anything Kankri Vantas involves himself with, he propounds a safe environment.  He makes sure this dream bubble is completely vacant before using it at his disposal.  Once he’s sure he’s alone, he erects a solid wall from his memory banks that stretches twenty feet across the blank space; he’s sharp but he isn’t about to let cockiness determine his accuracy.  Mistakes happen when one lets their ego man the controls.

He checks today’s stock: two pre-loaded magazines containing fifteen rounds each.  Loading cartridges is quite meditative to Kankri and he often spends a substantial amount of time slipping each bullet into the magazine while he thinks, but he decided to do it before arriving today as he’s got a lot of steam to blow off.  Safety goggles are donned followed by earplugs (you can never be too careful).

Popping the first magazine into place, he cocks the gun and takes aim at the target: a silhouette of a nondescript troll hanging on the wall.

The first shot sends a jolt up through his arm, the resulting BANG scattering all errant and nagging thoughts, leaving his pan pleasantly clear.  Completely and utterly silenced.

And for once, hee doesn’t mind the reprieve; in fact, he welcomes the static pause.  So often he forgets his own needs, willfully ignoring his body, having excused it as merely a vessel to his voicebox.

But not today.  Today Kankri listens to himself.

Licking his lips, he stacks his body straight from head to toe, feet planted into the ground, anchoring him to his current place in the multiverse.  He fires again, bearing the kick with familiar grit, an uncharacteristic grin of satisfaction splitting his mouth as the bullet hits its mark dead-on: right between the eyes.

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