grizzledvigilante

[grizzledvigilante]

This job seemed simple enough. Just scouting for more information to attack later. He hadn’t really pumped himself up enough for an actual fight; even Ana wasn’t here at the moment.

It took him a moment to realize something was following him. Were his senses dimming with age? No, whoever this was must just be incredibly quiet. Or maybe he should’ve gotten his ears checked after the explosion. That couldn’t have been good for his hearing.

He slipped behind a corner and went around, pointing his rifle carefully. Despite not being incredibly prepared, he was always able to get himself back into the fighting groove. Or at least pretend to.

When he puts the rifle against the person, the sound it makes is...odd. It sounds more like a clink of metal. As he sees a bright green glow coming from where the man’s eyes would be, realization hits him. “Oh. Shimada,” he says. Genji wasn’t exactly easy to mistake for anyone else once you could see him. 

Then he realized. “Wait. Commander? Was my disguise really that bad?”

It doesn’t leave him feeling particularly threatened, though. Genji’s never been a threat, and they were on roughly the same side. Slowly, he lowers his rifle, setting back into a resting position; still able to be used just in case, but not active.

Mostly, he’s just mad it was that easy to see through him.

@grizzledvigilante​

Genji almost never let himself get sidetracked on a mission. But the rare instances where it happened, it usually was for a good reason. In this case, it was because his investigations were putting him on the track of something noteworthy enough to report back to Winston and the others. After all, what were the odd, for their group and the famed Soldier: 76 to be after the same target?

He was staying hidden in the shadows of the night, observing his mark from a distance as he snooped around the very same supposed Talon outpost the cyborg was also supposed to keep an eye on. He followed the man for a while, minding his every move to avoid detection, when just as suddenly, the old soldier had vanished without a trace after passing a corner.

Wondering if he missed a branching path or something of the sort, Genji stepped out of his hiding place and began looking around. Only when he felt a presence behind him did he realize he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. He rolled his eyes under his mask and rose his arms in surrender before he even heard the clicking of a pulse rifle being pressed against his nape.

“Hmph. I must have lost my edge. You used to be much simpler to tail, Commander.”

“I can hardly blame you for being suspicious, but starting a fight so close to an enemy base does not sound like a good idea.”

[grizzledvigilante]

Overwatch: 11th Hour

A new RP Discord server is officially OPEN! We accept OCs, AUs, and are multiverse-friendly (aka we accept multiple versions of the same character). 

In this server, there is an in-character group chat along with interactions in various locations within the Overwatch universe. Characters from many timelines all converge on one universe.

Here’s the invite link: 

https://discord.gg/sDJaNYzq

[grizzledvigilante]

She still is.

This brought Jack back to a familiar pain; his mother was still alive, but he couldn’t see her. It was too dangerous. So she had to continue to believe that her son was dead. Letting her go has been unbelievably difficult, and he misses her every day. 

Tears began to well up in his eyes. Fuck. This was so humiliating. All he could think of was how much he missed being able to call his mom when he was hurting; how she would always be so understanding, tell him she loved him, and made him feel like he was worth something. He wanted to see her so badly. But if he did that, she might not survive. That was something he’d never be able to forgive himself for. 

He shook his head, trying to wipe his eyes as discreetly as possible. Dear God, if Markus saw him crying...he didn’t want to think about that.

“My uncle had a lot of wood lying around. No one knew where he got it, but I used it to practice building stuff. Think I’m probably still good at it,” Jack said; he managed to reset himself back to casual conversation almost immediately. Wear that poker face, Jack. You’ve always been shit at it, but if there’s any time to learn, it’s now.

“The chickens were assholes,” Jack said. “Almost all of them were mean all the time.”

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

“As if I don’t talk about that myself,” Jack said, smirking. “Could tell you about tractors, my Mama’s apple pie recipes, my huge family, my weird Uncle Bob that said he could talk to cows, raising chickens...” He trailed off, realizing he was rambling. “The point is, I’m the one you’d want to talk to about that.”

Jack was feeling a bit more comfortable, too. Although his memories of Markus weren’t incredibly detailed, this felt more in line with the kindly engineer than with some Talon lackey. 

“Or makes people wanna get the hell out of there,” Jack grunted. “Miss that place, though,” he said, a wistful smile on his face. Oh, shit. That was way too sentimental. He hated the feeling of letting his guard down around anyone other than Ana, but it was a difficult thing for him to avoid.

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

He shook his head. “Sadly, I wasn’t the only one you would’ve had to go through. I might have let you build that just ‘cause it’d be funny.”

Farm kid. No way. Jack laughed; a hearty, big one. He felt as if he was going to fall over. “Buddy, ‘farm kid that got lucky’ is an exact description of your former Strike Commander.” He adjusted himself in his chair to keep himself from falling. “If I’d have known that, I could’ve talked to you about farm junk all day. Used to drive Gabriel crazy with that stuff.” On purpose, of course. For just a moment, a bit of genuine excitement slipped past his soldier persona at the prospect of meeting another farm boy. “Trust me, I thought that people were messing with me when they gave me the position.”

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

“A week...” He considered it. “I can work with that. I’ve hid for way longer than that before,” he said, with a tch sound.

Jack hummed. He didn’t really like Markus having to feel like his life was so limited. Sure, it’d been a very long time since they’d known each other, but...nobody should have to be afraid for their lives all the time.

But Jack probably couldn’t help with that anyway. It wasn’t as if he was in much position to keep him safe from his own bosses. So he stayed quiet about it.

Jack was a bit caught off guard by the comment; sometimes he forgot that he was an international leader at one point. It all seemed so far away now, and he sure as hell didn’t want to go back.

“Eh. I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “Back then, me being ‘scary’ was mostly hot air. I was a total pushover.”

I still am, he thought, but definitely wasn’t going to say that bit of honesty aloud.

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack considered it for a moment. “Guess I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he said, with a shrug. His leads were a bit dry at the moment; that’s why he even went after this place at all, considering how little use it would have been even if it had gone as well as possible.

“Doesn’t sound too bad, actually,” Jack said; he missed wide open spaces and peaceful farms more than anything. When he was a child, all he wanted to do was escape the farm, but God would he give anything to get it back now. 

“I’d rather meet. See them for myself,” he added, still not entirely trusting whoever this person was. Not until he met them, at least. “And when you’re my age and in this line of work, awkwardness isn’t really a luxury you have.”

A lie, of course. It was difficult for Jack to not feel awkward in almost any one-on-one social situation; he was more suited for crowds. But that bit of weakness was something he kept to himself as much as possible.

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

Rialto...not a location that gave him good memories. He put that aside.

That got a smile out of Jack. He visibly relaxed, leaning back slightly in his chair. At least a bit less tense. This was still unusual, and scary, and really fucking weird, but he at least didn’t seem to be in danger for the time being.

“I’d like to at least meet them beforehand. Not very good at this ‘trusting people’ thing,” he said, shaking his head. It was at least still lighthearted, despite how depressing the reality was of why he didn’t trust people.

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack gave a chuckle. He liked that bit of a snarky streak. Reminded him of Gabriel. “I guess that means I have a chance even if they’ve got me at gunpoint,” he says, with a scoff.

Jack didn’t like the fact that it was only some, but he knew that was unreasonably judgmental. He couldn’t expect him to save everyone. Not everyone could live that way. So, he didn’t verbalize it.

“Sounds like a freak,” he says, feeling a bit comfortable hearing about a Talon member that really was awful. It was just easier that way. 

A pilot? That offer caught him off guard. He expected this to not end well for him at all - he reminded himself of just how many ways I could’ve gone wrong. “Might take you up on that. Hopefully they don’t crash me into a mountain,” he says, with a bitter chuckle. Dark humor had never been his thing when he was more optimistic, but things change.

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

If nothing else, he did manage a laugh at that.

Sadly enough, they did have to get back to business. He looks down at he ground. He hates thinking of Talon this way. Although he doesn’t usually kill on purpose, it inevitably does happen sometimes; if he thinks of them as normal people that have just fallen into unfortunate circumstances, he’ll have to face the fact that he cut many people’s lives short that may not have been completely irredeemable. It’s not a comforting thought.

A deep frown forms on his face. “The inevitable, huh...” Signing yourself away to that -- knowing that will likely be your fate someday, and not running away or fighting and dying a hero -- was something Jack couldn’t imagine doing.

He wished he could relate to having no one to sell out.

“...I guess I get it,” he said, finally. “Even if I couldn’t do it myself.” 

“But that makes me wonder. Have you made any progress in taking them down?”

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack starred at him quizzically. “Damn, you’re not surprised? I was hoping my cover was a little better than that.” Was that a joke? He wasn’t sure. “Guess it’s kinda nice to not get yelled at this time. I know I deserve it, but...” He trailed off, not finishing the thought.

“Yeah. I do,” he said, shifting in his chair. “You don’t really support them, right?” He shuddered at the possibility. “And if you don’t, how can you stay? Did they threaten you?”

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

// Measuring interest: what if I made a Overwatch RP Discord server that was friendly to multiple versions of the same character and OCs? 

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack flinched at the question, as that familiar guilt rose within him. He had made the choice to abandon Overwatch after the explosion, and the consequences of that were something he tried to keep out of his mind. So many like Markus were left to pick up the pieces of their own lives. They could’ve used his help. It was probably too late for that now.

“I...” He paused. “I turned my back on all of it. I wanted to erase myself from any involvement with Overwatch.”

Had he just been running away from his problems? The thought was too upsetting, so he just avoided it as much as possible. But other people had paid the price for his immaturity, and that had been thrust in his face more and more often in recent days.

“Me, Ana, and Gabe -- Reyes” (He tried to avoid the nickname in this type of situation) -- “We ran off. The other leaders...I’m not even sure how many of them would’ve cared,” he said, bitterly. Snakes. 

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

He supposed that wouldn’t be giving away too much - it wasn’t as if the actions of Soldier: 76 were much of a secret. The news media made that an impossibility.

”Answers,” he started. Probably a useless response. “How things went so wrong. Who was destroying Overwatch. There’s more to the story than we’re supposed to know. Everyone says it was Gabriel, of course, but...” He looked away, balling his hand into a fist. “I won’t believe that.”

He continued. “I’m alone ‘cause I know no one else would understand. Me, Gabriel, and Ana...we had something other people didn’t get. And never will.” He glanced at Markus, frown deepening. “And when I fuck up, I fix it myself. Not anyone else’s responsibility.”

Of course, this was leaving out how he wanted to save Gabriel, but that was nobody else’s business. Those emotions were locked away as tightly as possible.

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

As the two walked, Jack didn’t turn around at all, not acknowledging Markus even being there. As if ignoring his decision would make it go away. Ana would say that was childish, but what did she know?

Luckily, they didn’t have to suffer through awkwardness for too long, because the house wasn’t far. Wordlessly, he unlocked the door and opened it.

It was small, and nowhere near any other houses in the area. Entirely made of wood, in declining condition; as if it would collapse from a particularly harsh gust of wind.  A more critical person would call it a ‘shack’ or a ‘dump’. In Jack’s mind, if it had a roof and a bed, it was already one of the better locations he’d settled down in.

He stepped onto the wooden floor, turning the light on; it flickered twice before finally responding fully, illuminating the room in harsh, artificial light. For a moment, he wondered if he’d feel better if he stayed in nicer places. Those were thoughts for when he had the option to do so, he supposed.

He motioned for Markus to come inside, as he sat on a chair near the center of the room. “You go first,” he said, abruptly. “Ask me anything you want to know.”

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack turned his head away. “I have my reasons.” He left it that, even though he was fully aware of how unsatisfying of an answer it was. 

A drop of sweat gathered on his forehead, as he remembered his surroundings. Jack looked around; he was sure that someone would come soon enough, and he didn’t want to think of what would happen then. Would they have to fight to keep up appearances? He had no desire to do that at all.

Going soft again. Fucking damn it. 

He didn’t know how to handle moral quandaries right now. None of this made any sense. 

That was when he made a stupid decision, even though he was still a bit paranoid that the man could backstab him at any moment.

“We can’t talk out here. Too dangerous. If you wanna keep this going, follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned around, ready to head to the house he’d been spending time at. It wasn’t a location he particularly valued, and he’d been planning to leave tomorrow, so he told himself that it was okay, and he wasn’t just letting his emotions get to him again.

Lies.

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[grizzledvigilante]

That didn’t make him feel much better. If what he was saying was true -- and he really could make them stop -- it would humanize them even further. He wouldn’t give into that. "And you trust them with that? You seriously think they give a shit about what you think is right?” He snapped, barely letting him finish his sentence. “And I know what it can be,” Jack said. “A new Crisis. Millions dead. My worst nightmare.” He didn’t need a reminder.

Come on. Breathe. This wasn’t his fault. As the implications of ‘give up my life’ came to him, he realized something: this was his responsibility. Anything that happened to Markus was his own fault. Any loss of morality, the dimming of an optimistic mind...his fault. All he could do was stare into the distance, not directly at Markus. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. All of this.”

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio