This world was a harsh one. Many of those who inhabit it were no strangers to this fact.
Leon in particular seemed to be one of its favorite playthings—watching as fate toyed with him like a poorly stuffed teddy that was ready to tear open at any of its many worn, weakened seams.
The same could be said about a few of the Junkrats.
Not all of them though.
A lot of them had it way better than they could ever realize.
A lot of them weren't in a basement surrounded by broken, unresponsive bodies. Or even tied to an uncomfortable rotting wooden pole.
A lot of them weren't waiting to find out what comes next.
Through the tears, his ears had dialed into a faint ringing, its tone wavering—struggling to stay consistent. It was almost as if they were actively trying to make everything even more overstimulating.
But he listened to their song.
He wasn't in a rush to try escaping either.
The rope was locked around his wrists. With it, a deathly grip. And even through the test of time, the wooden pole wasn't rotten enough to let its new friend leave so soon.
His fate was approaching quickly. And he had no way of escaping it either.
"You good over there? I hear you crying."
A voice—weak, yet weirdly calm—cutting its way through the symphony playing in Leon's ears.
Its arrival made him shift worriedly.
Not just because he was startled by how sudden it came.
But because of how alive it sounded.
Like the events that were in motion around them hadn't yet reached it.
Like they had missed it entirely.
"I've seen those rags before... You're one of those Junkrat guys, aren't you?"
The voice recognizing him left him unsettled. Had they known who he was just in passing? Or was there more to it? Was that part of the reason its tone contrasted everything around them so starkly?
"Who are you?"
Leon wanted answers. More than that, he didn't want to give away his own.
"Ignoring my question with one yourself is a bit rude. Well, we're in the same situation here, may as well get acquainted, right?"
Behind him, the voice came from about the same level as himself. Leon couldn't form a clear picture at all—His shape was all wrong. All.... shifty?
The shadows were too deep. Too powerful. As if they were masking the alleged survivor. And anything he could make out was inconsistent. Was his shape ever changing?
Without too much time to think, the voice spoke again.
"I'm Reynold. I'm of nobility, of the Tempus household."
Those words rang in the air for a few moments, leaving Leon slightly more rattled than before.
'They had gotten someone of nobility? Are we here for ransom?'
'No. I'm not worth anything. No one would think twice about holding me for a few copper coins at most.'
'I shouldn't even be alive right now. Why is someone's life like mine valued over others that had ended short and tragic.'
A sense of guilt falling over him. It was suffocating.
Images of the bodies around him mixed with reminders that he hadn't perished with his family during the Great Cleansing.
Why had he continued on through everything while everyone else fell short?
No one knew.
No one cared.
Not even the greatest sage could tell him.
One thing was certain though.
The attackers weren't just mindlessly taking people. To dare to put their hands on someone of such status meant their actions were done with reason and intent.
The people knew what they wanted. But what did that have to do with Leon?
"Yeah, a Junkrat... Glad to be remembered by anyone. But honored to be remembered by a noble."
His voice tinted with sarcasm but littered with truth.
"Right."
Reynold didn't seem fond of the half-assed sarcasm.
But it was the truth. Leon really did enjoy being remembered. And it meant a whole lot more to add to that head count when the chances of him being just a memory were climbing with savaged loathing.
"Where the hell are we? What happened to... them?"
Leon's voice shuddered a little. His head hanging even lower in shame and dread as it turns to point toward what was supposed to be his closest and only friend.
"What do you mean? The same thing that happened to us. We were attacked and dragged to some weakly thrown together building. Honestly, I'm surprised this place hasn't just collapsed in on us."
The image of that creeped its way in on Leon. He wasn't ready to add another possibility to his list of ways this could end for him. Not to mention one so humiliating, and possibly even painful.
"Why are they... Dead? What did those people do?"
As he came to a pause, sitting in wait for an answer truly harrowing, the room became darker. No longer were the shadows dancing. No longer were they lusting for a taste of someone. They sat still.
Coughing, Reynold skipped over Leons desperate attempt to grasp at any possible answer.
"As for where we are. I can assure you; I am just as lost as you are."
'Not buying that.'
Leon wasn't buying that.
"So why the hell are you so calm?!"
His arms showing sign of struggle as anger and confusion bubbles up.
"Inquisitive soul, are we? Well, no need to lash out like that..."
Reynolds voice came to a pause, obviously thinking of an answer that might satiate Leon's curiosity.
"It's rather simple I suppose. When trying to struggle in water, it doesn't get anyone very far at all. And even tends to attract unwanted attention."
Reyold chuckled softly—and Leon couldn't tell if it was pride in the quickly crafted metaphor or if it was something darker. Something more sinister.
Such as the apparent relief Leon had shown when his shoulders had shifted downward, relaxing a bit more.
Moreover, Leon didn't get the metaphor at all. Water? Swimming was a luxury for Nobles. Far from being even relatively close to something for someone as lowly as a homeless youth, one that could barely feed himself to boot.
'What the hell does water have to do with unwanted attention?'
He was in good luck though.
The answer to his question was arriving, bleeding in from the trails that lead outward. Sounds of lazy steps and feet dragging against the floor, followed with them, disembodied voices.
Tonight, Leon would be learning about attracting sharks in unsafe waters.
Tonight, Leon would be having a date with fate.