#I fucking knew this asshole was in Blackwatch

[overdrivels]

Believe (Drabble)

HELLO FRIEND!! I LOVE ANGST™ VERY MUCH AND PLEASE DO YELL MORE BECAUSE I NEED TO BE AWOKEN INTO EXPRESSING MY LOVE FOR ANGST™ AND PERHAPS FLUFF. Thank you so much for the request, and I hope you enjoy!

You take a shuddering breath in the airship, hands flexing nervously around the modified caduceus staff that Torbjorn had made for you. Unlike the one that Dr. Zielger has which emits a passive tether and heals the entire body at once at a slow, but steady rate, yours was smaller and acted more like a laser that allowed you to interact with the injury directly and quickly. Someone had the mind to call it a 'healing swiss army knife', but no one dared to utter it again when the offender was not given any pain killers or support after breaking a leg in their latest mission at the orders of a certain doctor.

“There is no reason to be so nervous, you will do fine.” 

You offer the cyborg sitting next to you a shaky smile. Genji is sweet, has been since the day you joined the Recalled Overwatch. It’s hard not to like him or even develop some sort of affection for him. 

“I-I know, but it’s just...it’s my first mission.” You look to your feet. “What if I mess up?”

“You will.” Your head snaps up, ready to be offended at the insinuation that you will fail. “But you will overcome it. And in the worst case, I will protect you.” 

You laugh quietly, slightly warmed by his bold declaration and confidence in you--confidence that you have trouble finding in yourself. 

“Genji, thanks, but I’m a medic, not a mechanic." He laughs at that, and the cheery sound zips through you, sending your heart racing to a far off place. You groan, half at your ridiculous feelings and half at your nerves. “I’m serious, I won’t be able to help you if you get damaged.” 

A comforting hand rests on your shoulder and squeezes lightly. He levels you with a look behind the strip of green, and if you look hard enough and long enough, you swear you could see his eyes.

“I believe in you.”  

The sincerity in his words nearly takes your breath away, and you somehow gather up your courage to spit out, "You can count on me."

The irony of it all comes when Genji is forced to fend off and deflect a group of omnics that had decided that you were a better target than the others. They go down, but not without a fight, leaving Genji on his back and unable to move. You rush to him from the hiding spot he have shoved you into in his haste to protect you--it was all your fault, and you shouldn’t have gone on ahead without letting Genji scout first, and if anything permanently bad happened, Hanzo would never forgive you, Dr. Zielger would never forgive you, and you wouldn’t be able to forgive yourself either--

You stop.

A weak laugh escapes you–half nervous, half frightened. That crimson liquid underneath Genji’s body couldn’t be–

“Need...healing." Genji tries to sound nonchalant, but the pain and rasp in his voice is evident. 

The sound of a previous Omnic’s dying voice box saying, "We are the same, so why..." before getting destroyed by Genji echoes faintly in your memory. No. The sight before you strongly alludes to the contrary. The pool of blood that steadily spreads it reach nearly cements it--Genji is not an Omnic, Genji is not just a cyborg with just a brain and a brain stem, he’s...

He’s bleeding out.

The realization strikes you hard.

The staff feels like a deadweight in your hands, and drops to the ground like one. Holy mother of--. Your body goes immediately on autopilot, guiding you through the well practiced motions of securing the body, checking vitals, triage–triage–tri--

“Armor...” His voice is barely more than a feeble whisper, it’s clear it takes everything he has to speak. “Remove...able.” 

Clinging to those words like a lifeline, your fingers fumble around, feeling for latches and buttons that would allow you access to the damage. Piece by piece, the armor comes off in a clumsy heap. Some of it is sticky with blood--Genji's blood. You can deal with blood, it was expected in your line of work, but your hands freeze when the largest piece of connected armor reveals skin melding into metal and tubing whose purpose you could not even begin to understand. 

You stare at the expanse of flesh, blood, and machinery. 

It vaguely occurs to you that you’ve never seen him without his armor. Nothing beyond the swath of human skin is familiar to you. Suddenly, you were back in your first day of class, the instructor firmly reminds everyone everyday for as long as he teaches the class that there is no such thing as a textbook patient.  

And Genji is definitely no such thing. 

Questions come flying at you, bombarding your brain and commanding all of its resources. How much blood does Genji have? Less than the average human, probably. Major artery damage can kill in ten to fifteen minutes. Only three to five minutes for the body to go into shock. How much blood was he losing? At what rate? How long has it been? Is he going to need a blood transplant? What even is his blood type? Again, just how much blood did he have in the first place?!

The tingling numbness in your fingers spread up and up into your chest, into your lungs, and into your brain. It’s almost as though you’re the one in danger of dying. You distantly fear that the next moments may have have you on the ground next to Genji. 

You look to his face instinctively, hoping, searching for some sort of reassurance or guidance in the weakening green light. But a much paler, shaken reflection of yourself shines off his dull face plate and greets you instead. Even you could admit that you looked horrid, weak, and more of a victim than a hero. Hardly the image of a medic. 

What ever happened to being professional and holding yourself together? 

‘I believe in you.’ 

That’s right. Genji was counting on you, believed in you, and you couldn’t betray that trust. You take a shuddering breath, willing yourself to focus on the patient–panic can wait. Your feelings can wait. Duty first. You reach again for the modified caduceus staff, the weight now grounding rather than damning or useless. You set to work,  a newfound determination to keep your teammate--your friend--alive.

When help arrives and you all return to the base, Angela later applauds you for keeping your cool, mentioning that even without exposure to someone as complex as Genji, you didn’t freeze up. Because of your quick actions, Genji is expected to make a full recovery--no lasting damage. You could only stare dumbly at her. It seemed that those moments that stretched into eternity were only merely seconds, and no lasting damage was done as a result. 

When you visit him, he greets you with a “Yo!” and a two fingered salute. You can’t help but grin at his much more lively demeanor. Even after a near death experience (that was caused because of you, you remind yourself sharply), he still manages to treat you with some shred of amenity. It certainly does nothing to dampen your affections toward the ninja.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” you say when you find your voice, seating yourself carefully near the edge of his bed.  

"I had one of the best looking after me.” You could almost hear the smile in his voice. Angela is indeed one of the best, no doubt about it. Having her look after you was almost like having the protection of a deity--an angel--who will defy death at all costs. It’s no surprise that Genji is okay. 

“I knew I was correct to believe in you. Thank you."

Before the implications even sink in, he places his hand–human hand, so full of scars and warmth–against your hand. It covers up yours entirely, and the sheer intimacy of the gesture sets your face aflame. You barely hear him chuckle through the sound of your own racing heart through your ears.

"You know,” he starts, dropping to a whisper. You have to lean close to hear, and a mischievous edge makes it way into his voice. “I would have liked if you stripped me in a more favorable manner.” 

It turns out Angela is very strong without her valkyrie suit, and is more than capable of hauling your catatonic self to the other side of the med bay.  

[clareguilty]

Gabriel Reyes/reader, a/b/o and The Works™

this is the third kinktober prompt for this year!!!

Gabriel Reyes/fem!reader | a/b/o, marking, biting, praise, all that jazz Rating: Explicit Word Count: ~3000

Jack Morrison was getting another medal.

It was everyone’s favorite joke at high command. It seemed like no one wanted to implement any serious policy or sign an actual resolution in favor of giving the golden boy of the Omnic Crisis another fancy award.

So Jack had been stressing himself out all week trying to write an acceptance speech that wasn’t passive aggressive, and you spent too long picking out a formal gown, and Gabe had sat on Reinhardt’s desk laughing and stuffing his face with carbs and fruit because his rut was due next week.

Jack took the teasing in stride and managed to come up with a speech that wouldn’t outright offend the Prime Minster of Russia. Everyone piled into the jet to Moscow with a garment bag and a carryon and a strong cup of coffee at four am the day before the banquet.

This was normal for you. In a world after the omnic crisis, head of Overwatch’s reparations department and mated to the commander of Blackwatch. You found yourself flown across the world dozens of times a year for negotiations and assemblies and ceremonies.

You and Gabe strapped in next to each other on the jet. “I haven’t seen the dress you picked out,” he nodded his head to the garment bag.

“I guess it will just be a surprise,” you purred.

He grinned and leaned in to kiss you.

“It’s too early for this,” Ana groaned from across the aisle. Gabe shot her a toothy smile and made sure to nip at the shell of your ear. You smacked his leg and shoved him back into his own seat.

The hotel was a beautiful historic waterfront building just across the bridge from the Kremlin in the heart of the city. The five of you piled out of the black SUV that had escorted you from the airstrip and made your way inside.

The hotel manager greeted you as well as an official from the Kremlin. Jack was the main recipient of ass kissing and pleasantries, so you simply smiled and nodded and shook hands wherever necessary.

The suite was entirely too big and fancy for a two night’s stay. You and Gabe poked around for a bit, but there were no fun secrets. You took the sitting room, and Gabe set up at the desk in the bedroom as you both buckled down on your work for the day. Gabe had operatives in Bolivia he needed to check in with, and you had a meeting with representatives in London.

He found you a few hours later slumped in the armchair with your head in your hands.

“They still being stubborn?” he asked.

“They won’t budge on anything,” you groaned.

“Change into something casual. Let’s go out for a little bit.” He was already in a hoodie and dark jeans, beanie sticking out of the back pocket.

You nodded and went to find a sweater.

Gabe’s impromptu date night in Moscow turned out to be a lot of fun. Ana and Reinhardt came to meet you at a bar for a little bit, and the two of you wandered around the city until sundown.

The next day was more meetings and frustration until you had to get ready for the banquet. You and Gabe slipped past each other in and out of the bathroom as you showered and shaved and styled your hair and perfumed and moisturized.

You shimmied into the dress half an hour before the car was due to pick you up. It was slim and black, sleeveless with one band that crossed over your collarbone and shoulder. You frowned when you realized it covered your matebite, but it wasn’t a big deal.

Gabe grinned salaciously as he zipped you up, unable to resist leaning down and nuzzling into your neck. “Cool it.” You shoved him off with a giggle. “I have to make it through a whole ceremony and dinner.”

He pulled on his jacket and the two of you made your way downstairs to wait for the car.

For some reason, the event coordinators split you into three cars. Jack rode by himself, you and Gabe in one car, and Ana and Reinhardt in the last. They looked intimidating in their dress uniforms, and you felt kind of ditzy in your sexy cocktail dress next to three enormous well decorated Overwatch officers.

The ceremony was only slightly dull, and you clapped at all the right spots and pinched Gabe when he looked like he was zoning out too much.

Dinner was much more enjoyable. You had been seated with people you knew from other events and assemblies, so conversation flowed well. A string ensemble played and a few people got up to dance or mingle once they cleared their plates. You caught sight of a British Parliament member speaking with a small group of tuxedoed men, and Gabe saw the determination in your eyes. 

“Go get him, sweetheart,” he kissed your cheek and pushed you towards the Lord. You excused yourself quickly and approached the older gentleman ready to push for your negotiations to take center stage in the Palace of Westminster.

The poor Lord was not expecting to be accosted by you at a banquet, but graciously listened as you explained your struggles in negotiating reparations in London.

“You’ve got some real fire in you,” one of the tuxedoes remarked as you shook the Lord’s hand and he scampered away sufficiently cowed. He had an American accent and shiny hair. He reeked of confidence and you knew it was a combination of his nationality and his status as an Alpha.

You cocked your head nonchalantly. “Takes a lot of persistence to get anything done in Parliament.” You knew he was probably referencing the fact that you, a tiny omega, had just approached a government official and demanded that he push for your cause, but you brushed it off. Most of the time people were respectful, but you still ran into pushback every now and then because of your status.

The American laughed, tossing his head back. “And wit to match!” A waiter came by with champagne and he snatched a glass to press into your hands. “What’s your name?” he asked, placing a hand on your back and guiding you back into the crowd of tuxes.

You tensed under his touch. This wasn’t your Alpha. It was extraordinarily rude to touch anyone without permission, especially an omega. But still, you had to be polite, so you introduced yourself.

“If you ever need any help getting through to politicians, you should give me a call. I’m on the UN Peace Council, you know? I was appointed during the crisis.” That information was probably supposed to impress you. It probably would have if you were anyone else.

You nodded politely, taking a tiny sip of champagne and glancing over your shoulder to look for Gabe. You had your own gripes with the UN peace council. Jack and Gabe butted heads with them nearly every other week.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you smiled, attempting to turn and address the other men.

“Here,” the American pulled out his phone. “Let me get your number. Maybe we could meet up for drinks before we both leave Moscow?”

“Oh,” you found your escape. “I left my phone back at my table.” You turned to make your way back to Gabe and Ana, but the UN asshole grabbed your arm. You knew exactly what this was. This guy probably didn’t run into many omegas in professional settings, and he thought you would just go along with everything he said because he was some big shot Alpha.

Laughable. You were a high ranking member of Overwatch. A diplomat. The mate of Gabriel Fucking Reyes.

“Just put your number in and I’ll text you,” he insisted. You struggled out of his grasp and shot him the sternest look you could manage.

He laughed again. “I love how feisty you are!”

Clearly, everyone in the vicinity was also uncomfortable with the exchange. This was not the time nor the place to be asserting dominance over an omega.

Your blood boiled. You didn’t want to make a scene at Jack’s reception -- though he probably would have loved it -- but you were seriously about to deck this guy.

“Cariña,” a familiar voice washed over you and the effect was immediate. You leaned back into Gabe’s chest, taking a deep breath to slow your heart rate. “Jack was looking for you. He wanted to introduce you to someone.”

The American Alpha puffed his chest out, clearly ready to challenge until he took one look at Gabe.

“Commander Reyes,” he greeted. All of the bravado and pushiness was gone in an instant.

“Hello.” Gabe was stiff, clearly trying to hold his tongue. His arms snaked around your waist and he leaned in to whisper in your ear. 

“Would you hate me if we left right now?”

“Absolutely not,” you spun in his embrace so you could look up at him. His expression was stoic as always, but you could see the tension and the anger in his eyes.

You didn’t even look back as Gabe walked you to the table to collect your things. It was a little rude to leave without saying goodbye to anyone, and you weren’t sure if Jack had actually wanted to introduce you to someone, but Gabe looked ready to tear someone’s head off.

He stopped caring about decency the moment the car door closed.

There wasn’t a lot of room to maneuver considering how enormous your mate was in the tiny sedan backseat, but he pinned you to the leather seats and kissed you like his life depended on it. You wound your fingers into his curls, gasping as his hands slid under your skirt and up your thighs. The driver coughed, and you giggled at the slow whir of the partition motor giving the two of you some privacy.

“I can’t believe he touched you,” Gabe snarled.

You shivered both at the possessive edge in his voice and the disgusting memory of the other Alpha’s hand on your arm.

“Make me forget about him,” you whispered, hooking your leg around his hips.

He rose to the challenge. Super soldier strength shredded your lace underwear, dress hiked up around your hips. He pressed a kiss to the inside of your knee, trailing up your thigh at a torturously slow pace. He had barely sucked a mark into the skin when the car stopped. A glance out the tinted window showed that you were back at the hotel.

“Thank you!” you called to the driver in your terrible russian accent as you yanked your dress back down and teetered on your heels on the pavement. Gabe half carried you with an arm around your waist as you breezed through the lobby to the elevator.

The elevator was another brief attempt to continue. You managed to get Gabe’s jacket and shirt open before the door slid open and you were staggering down the hall.

He dragged you into the bedroom, pinning you to the bed on your stomach so he could yank down the zipper on your dress. He couldn’t keep his lips away from your neck. The moment your matebite was uncovered he dragged his teeth over the mark. A shiver ran all the way down your spine.

“You’re never covering this up again,” he growled, rutting against your hips clumsily. “I want everyone to see that you belong to me.”

The words made your stomach flip. You wriggled your way around onto your back, pushing your dress over your hips and to the floor. “You’re going to hit your rut early.”

He didn’t seem fazed. “I’ll just fuck you until we have to leave for the flight.”

You figured Ana, Jack, and Reinhardt wouldn’t appreciate Gabe in the throes of his rut on the flight back to base tomorrow, but they had probably experienced it before. You could only imagine how bad he was back during the crisis. The thought only made you wetter.

He must have sense the spike in arousal, because he settled more of his weight on top of you. “What are you thinking about?” he demanded.

“You. During the crisis. Alpha Commander Gabriel Reyes.” You trailed a finger down his chest. “Were your ruts worse than they are now?”

He smirked. “They’ve gotten worse again since meeting you.”

You pulled him in for a kiss, mustering the last of your coordination to get Gabe undressed. He made sure you were laid out comfortably on the bed -- grabbing a few pillows to place under your hips and head -- before sinking all the way inside you to the swell of his knot.

Gabe always fit inside you so well. The perfect stretch. And he filled you so deep when he knotted you. You knew that his ruts could get intense, and you would probably be exhausted and sore by the end of it. Still, you had been mated for a few years now, so you had figured out how to manage.

“You feel so good.” You closed your eyes and lost yourself in the situation.

“Don’t worry, baby. I’m going to knot you so good.” He rocked forward, teasing you with the stretch.

“Please,” you begged, nails scratching at the shaved hair at the back of his head.

He shuddered and set an impossible pace as he began to fuck you. Sometimes you forgot that you weren’t just mated to an Alpha, but to a super soldier. No one else could fuck you like he did.

“You want my knot? Want me to breed you full? Want me to remind you who you belong to?” His words were low against you skin as he kissed along your neck. One of his hands was rubbing your clit, the other holding your thighs open so he could reach deep inside you with every thrust.

“Yours,” you gasped. “I’m yours.”

His teeth found the unmarked skin of your neck, just above your collarbone -- opposite the side of where your matebite was. The skin was practically electrified, especially when Gabe was fucking you like this. He didn’t bite down, but the sensation alone was enough to have you coming on his cock.

“Fuck,” he growled. “That was so good for me, baby. You’re so perfect.”

“Do it,” you begged. “Bite me. Please.” It was a little unorthodox. Normally couples only exchanged one bite. A bite on both sides was usually the sign of a triad or a pack. But you had just been touched by another alpha and Gabe was fucking you so good and you wanted him in every way possible.

He blinked, trying to think through the haze of his rut. “You want that?” He didn’t even wait for you to respond. The thought alone had him spilling inside of you, and he pulled you onto his knot. His teeth found that same patch of sensitive, unmarked skin, and he bit down just as he locked inside of you.

Nothing felt better than coming to the sensation of being claimed. It was the strongest orgasm you had ever experienced.

“Fuck you’re perfect. My perfect little omega. You wear my marks so well. Everyone is going to know exactly who you belong too.”

You couldn’t respond. Too busy marking Gabe’s chest with hickeys and lovebites. He was too massive for you to reach his neck, but you would make do. You were still coming down off the intense rush of endorphins, and everything was a little fuzzy and felt just a little too good too much too fast. You had come twice in less than the span of a minute, and Gabe was only just getting started.

He soothed the aching bite, holding you close as you were locked together. His knot probably wouldn’t go down for a while, but he was less riled up than before now that he had satisfied himself somewhat.

“I love you,” he kissed the top of your head, rolling so you could lay on his chest.

“I-” You cut yourself off, blushed, and buried your face in his pecs. You would happily die there.

“Yes?” He was curious now. You weren’t usually shy with him.

“I’ve been working on something. It’s super embarrassing.” You didn’t look up.

He lifted your head, forcing you to meet his eyes. “What’s embarrassing? I just dragged you out of a dinner party at the Kremlin so I could fuck you. I think I’m the more embarrassing of the two fo us.”

You laughed and kissed his chest right above his heart. Mustering all of your courage, you found your voice:

“Te amo. Me encanta pertenecer a ti. Tú eres mi mayor alegría.”

Your accent was decent, but you had no clue if your grammar was correct. The words were unfamiliar and clumsy, even though you had practiced them a hundred times. Spanish was not a language you were familiar with, but you knew that Gabe had grown up hearing it. You wanted to try and learn for him.

He understood immediately what you were tying to say, and you could feel the rumble of his laughter beneath you.

“Don’t laugh at me!” you whined, smacking him lightly on the side.

“I’m sorry,” he grabbed your hand, running his thumb over your knuckles. “It was very sweet. I love you too.”

“I need a lot more practice,” you pouted.

He petted your hair, staring at you with a dopey, lovestruck expression. “I can’t believe you let me bite you again.”

You shrugged, feeling the pull and ache of the new mark in the motion. “We can let one of them fade.”

He smirked. “What if I like you like this?”

You bared your own teeth. “Can I return the favor?”

You weren’t expecting to rile him up, but the words were enough to make his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck,” he groaned. “You good to go again?”

You nodded, pushing up to a seat so you could ride him. He grabbed your hips, holding tightly as you slowly rocked against him. You knew the pace was probably no where near what he needed, but you wanted to take your time.

He didn’t give you the opportunity, rolling to pin you beneath him again and dragging your hips up to his. “You wanna bite me? You better earn it.”

[omegaversebutbetter]

Overwatch

Okay lets try this again

Genji: Alpha, one of the motivating forces for Hanzo to duel him and as a result from the "accident" His Ability to smell and produce sents is kinda damaged. He acted very alphaish while part of blackwatch to try and make up for it but nowardays some people dont even realise he is one since hes so chill and dosent act that way anymore.

Hanzo: Omega, got a blocker soon after presenting by order of his father and kept it even after leaving for the convinience of not having heats and because his time in the yakuza basically made him belive omegas are meek and weak and people only looked at them as objects. This causes drama later on. Hanzo is basically feral when joining the team, he holds himself confidently and as if he has poise most of the time but when people try to touch him or somethibg suppr9ses him he is very jumpy and has almost attacked multiple people as a result. This agitation and aggression is partiality made worse by the implant and wouldn't get much better until its out.

Angela: Beta. Ik people normally think she'd be Omega but fr that woman is pure balence. She does get mistaken for an omega allot tho. Her possition as a Beta really helps her tending to all patients so she has no complaints.

76: Omega, had a impact for the super soldier program but once the crisis was over he had it taken out, both to be a good role model for other omegas but also because he just wanted to for him mainly but also for his bf at the time (despite the fact that his eyes still often drifted to a certain other squad leader). Nowerdays he still dosent have one but age makes his heats less frequent and his senses and scent a little dulled.

Ana: Alpha. She is extremely chill for an Alpha but chill in the "I am confident I have complete control of this situation" kind of way, usually because she does. She is known for being calm in arguments with other alphas and often winning those arguments as a result, almost none has seen her in an alpha rage but the rumours are that someone has once and they said it was the most terrifying thing they'd ever seen. Ana has been mistaken for the leader of her packs in the past and despite the fact that she basically is co-leader of evey pack she's in she always makes sure that she's not overshadowing the leader especially when they're not Alpha.

Reinheart: I kiiiinda wanna make him an omega who has litterally no idea what OBA expectations are. He's just the jollyest, largest omega you will ever meet. He does not give a shit what people think of him to the point where he won't defend himself unless someone questions his honour. This leads to people like Ana and Morrison in the past hovering around him and fighting anyone who tried harassing him.

McCree: Alpha. Used to be a brash, cocky, and kinda mean alpha before Blackwatch got a hold of him and mellowed him out through giving him a stable pack with a leader (as opposed to deadlock where basically eveyone fought over being leader). He is the most unmistakably alpha person you will ever meet however he is also one of the softest, kindest and possibly the most adorable alphas you will ever know if you get close to him. He's embaressed every time he growls by accident nowerdays.

Lucio: honestly I can't see lucio as anything other than Beta or Omega so I think probably Beta? But I think none else knows either and if anyone asks he says he'd rather people not know because he'd prefer to be judged my charecter instead of his second sex.

Hana: hasn't presented yet, had an implant bc of the mecha program she was in and hasn't had it out. She dosent really care regardless.

Mei: omega, I dont have much else to add to this, she's small and soft and probably the most typical omega of the bunch.

Zarya: Alpha, much like but in contrast to Mei she is the most typical alpha of the bunch. She has kinda old fashioned views about Alphas and Omegas but after getting her ass handed to her by Reinheart while sparring, finding out he was omega and accidentally being rude to him as a result the others realised she had such veiws and Morrison, Ana, McCree and Mei had a little sit down talk with her. She quickly learnt and when Satya joined later and was rude to an omega member of the pack she was the first to jump up and defend them

Satya: unknown, she has an inplant that has prevented her from presenting since she was a child and still has it. She carries herself like an alpha and looks down on Omegas however she looks down on eveyone so her veiw is often overlooked.

Reyes: Alpha. Pack leader, protective and angy. Nuff said.

Sombra: Beta with blockers that stop her from producing any scent for stealth. She has been a solo act for most her life and Talon with Reyes is her first ever pack so she takes time to adapt but once she does it suits her surprisingly well.

Widow: Amile was Omega. Widowmaker has no heats or scent.

Baptitse: deadass I'm not sure. Could litterally be any. Big soft alpha? Big kind omega? Lovely helpful Beta? I really don't know. I feel like I can't make all medical staff Betas tho...so...omega. He had a blocker put in when he joined Talon and those lot assumed he was Beta or Alpha since he never knew. But once he leaves and gets freedom of a sort he chooses to have it removed. He suffers a little for it but he's generally positive and not insecure about it. He dosent like to share heats with anyone tho, it's the one time he shuts himself off from everyone.

Moira: Alpha. Toxic.

Brigette: Alpha, presented a few years ago. She's like a golden retriever but smarter, if you're her friend she will do anything you ask, gets you random gifts and upgrades, carries anything for her friends no matter how heavy, but if you try to abuse her kindness you'll find she sint stupid and it takes one glare for someone to know you don't fuck with this Alpha. She may be a healer but she could absolutely destroy you if you try to fuck her or her friends over.

Torb: Alpha. Can go into a pure rage in a moment but will never use an alpha voice. He's just a cranky old man who seems to have practically forgotten he's an alpha. Was very proud of Brigette's presenting but gave her a few lectures and lessons to make sure it never went to her head.

Sigma: I barely know this cherecter, can no say

Doomfist: Alpha. Asshole. Talons top dogs and heavy hitters are mostly alphas. It's like...toxic alphaism at its finest. Doom is smart and cunning and wants to complete dominate situations he's in. He's an alpha.

Tracer: can't belive I forgot tracer until now, Omega. She was often underestimated for being a little omega in the past but this spitfire powered through everything in life with positivity and self love and she embraces evey part of herself. She sometimes flies home for heats when they're not too busy and are well staffed so she can spend time with her girlfriend.

Roadhog and Junkrat: Alpha and Omega. They're a couple. No I will not take criticism. These two are mates and do litterally whatever they want as long as they're together. In the wasteland there are no gender expectations, only explosives, violence and love.

Ashe: don't know much about her either but I wanna say omega with major alpha vibes. She is the embodiment of the phrase "power bottom" in every sence

Pharah: mmmmm Alpha. She's stubborn and strong, a real soldier, but if you compliment her muscles or challenger her she will show off.

And I think that's it! Any other ideas? Leave them in the comments!

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Hey! I saw you were taking requests :3 would you mind writing (hcs, scenario, anything!) a thing where, shortly pre-OVW recall, McCree and his old teammate (f or neutral pronouns are fine but it’s up to u!!) accidentally meet again after he left without warning? Bonus points for “I thought u were dead/I was never gonna see you again” type stuff :p thanks! Sorry if this was confusing!

{This was, like, super fun to write? I did kinda flip part of the script, but it still fits what you asked for (hopefully). Minor warning for implied alcoholism though, oops. It can also be read as more of a “bars exist for brawls” than “alcohol is my coping method” though, so maybe that’s not as bad??? IDK, at least the ending feels cute.} {-J}

After the fall of Overwatch and its subdivisions, there were certain things that you had been forced to accept: Dozens of your friends and coworkers had died, you were out of a job, and everything you had worked so hard for had crumbled into oblivion. So yeah, shit, you ended up drinking away your pain more than once. At this point you weren’t even sure how many places you were banned from. Still, you held onto the pride that came from never starting any fights, instead waiting for some asshole to decide he wanted to rumble with an ex-Blackwatch agent. It was messy, dangerous, and only added to your nasty reputation.

Few organizations would even think of hiring you. Did that make your drinking worse, or did your drinking make the job search harder?... It wasn’t something you wanted to dwell on, especially considering how desperately you were trying to change things. Mercenary work hadn’t suited you for long, as all your clients were faceless, mysterious forces pulling strings from the shadows. How could you trust that they weren’t like Talon?... Or like Blackwatch had become? In the end you had been forced to slink back into the shadows, praying to whatever gods may be that you could still do some good for the world.

That was a couple years ago. You had changed your name, traded out your old gear for something less suspicious, and set yourself up along the halfway point of Route 66. The area was known for its problems with gangs, violence, and a general lack of government intervention. Sure, the road itself spanned across eight different states, but most of it had been in a state of disrepair for a few decades now. The Omnic Crisis was the final push that sealed the region’s fate. Or, at least, it had been. Some people still cared.

Like you. Why else would you be here, now, scanning the horizon, a beer in one hand, binoculars in the other? There certainly weren’t any good birdwatching spots nearby. Just a rundown gas station perfect for staging ambushes, an old school diner with shitty coffee, and a dusty, dirty crevice up high, wonderful for keeping an eye on it all. You didn’t like it up here, but it was the only discreet place to perform surveillance on the local miscreants. 

Apparently a new gang was starting to harass people in the area, despite the proximity to Deadlock turf, and were trying to sell “insurance”. Understandably, that really pissed you off. Sweet-talking one of the locals had gotten you insight on the gang’s general daily routine. Nothing too specific, unfortunately. Now all you had to do was wait for the scum to show up so you could pound them into the dirt.

Taking a quick swig from your beer, you settled in a little, preparing to wait for who knows how long….

    Dust flew into the air like a trail of smoke, blurring your vision but not deterring you in the slightest. You slipped around your target, barely avoiding his second kick, before slamming your elbow into the back of his head. Sure enough he went crashing down with a thud. More dirt was kicked up in the process. At least it made it a little harder for the gang members still outside to target you. Another quick dash landed you behind cover, where you could finally take a moment to breathe.

    “Damn it,” you grumbled, hearing yet another bullet whiz past your hiding spot. There were still four or five gunmen outside. Truthfully, that was the total number of people you had expected to find, not just the backup boys. Sure, you had prepared for unforeseen hiccups, but apparently not enough. In over your head, stuck sitting like a duck, reminded more and more of the old days. Shit, you missed your teammates. Normally Jesse or Genji would have saved your ass by now.

    You missed them. So much, in fact, that you were pretty sure you just heard Jesse’s signature “high noon” line. It almost made you feel like you were a bit more tipsy than you had thought. When the sound of a revolver firing reached your ears, you couldn’t help but wonder if you had actually died; if so, this was the weirdest form of afterlife known to mankind. Curiosity ended up getting the best of you. Crawling to the side, you made sure not to reveal any part of yourself to your enemy, working your way towards the building’s secondary entrance. That was still within the gang’s line of sight, but you hoped it was far enough to the side that they wouldn’t immediately notice you poking around the corner.

    Sure enough, nobody shot at you when you turned the corner. Someone did, however, raise a silver revolver in your direction. Air got caught in your lungs as you stared down that ever-so-familiar barrel. Relief started to flood your chest… until you realized that the gunman wasn’t wavering in his stance. Your gaze follows up his arm, to his face, and you suddenly wish you weren’t wearing this stupid goddamn mask.

    “Hold it, buddy, unless you want to end up like your compadres back there,” Jesse McCree drawls, tipping his head back towards the fallen gang members. Evidently he hadn’t seen you beating the crap out of the ones inside. Still, you raised your hands slowly, showing your lack of weapons. “There we go. Now, take off that there lil’ mask, nice and easy, alright?” You complied, of course, tossing it to the side before throwing a grin in Jesse’s direction. His reaction made you really, really wish you had brought a camera. The normally smooth and put-together cowboy is now slack jawed, a sense of wonder (and something else…?) in his eyes. Soon your name drops from his lips, whispered like a sacred prayer.

    “It’s good to see you too, Jesse,” you manage to reply, still grinning like a fool. Hardly a moment passes before the wind is suddenly knocked out of you. Jesse had holstered his gun, closed the distance between the two of you, and pulled you into a hug in a matter of just a couple seconds. The action catches you by surprise, now making you the one to choke on the words caught in your throat. Still, you manage to hug him back, leaning in to gently rest your head against his chest.

    “Goddamnit, who gave you the right to surprise me like this?” He asks after a few moments of silence, his voice on the edge of breaking. His grip was tight, like a man desperate to keep his sanity clutching onto a lifetime of coping methods. Words failed you, barely managing a confused noise, as you pulled back just enough to look him in the eyes. There was something you couldn’t comprehend in his gaze. Something you were missing, that required knowledge you didn’t have. Your head tipped to the side as you hoped for at least a little elaboration. Jesse seems to realize your cluelessness, and shakes his head with a bitter laugh. “I thought you were dead,” he murmurs, the words settling on his tongue with an all-too-familiar weight.

    Shit, you thought, eyes going wide for a moment. Thoughts raced through your head as you tried to process what he said, thinking back to what had happened after Blackwatch’s disbandment, wondering why he could possibly have thought that you were-

….

….

    Fuck.

    Yeah, that tracked. Going from constantly fighting in bars to fucking off to nowhere, changing your name, and turning to the vigilante lifestyle? No shit people thought you were dead. How had you ever thought that this was a good idea?... Sure, most of your old friends had done the same, scattering across the four winds without so much as a “lol bye” (or, you know, a proper farewell). However, that didn’t mean that there weren’t still people who cared, who you could have at least made the slightest effort to keep in touch with before disappearing. People like Jesse.

    “Now that you mention it, I realize I didn’t exactly leave much room for thinking anything else,” you replied, barely managing to speak through your embarrassment. A laugh tried to move past your teeth, even though you knew the timing was bad, but the sound died as soon as your gaze met Jesse’s.

    “That’s one hell of an understatement, old friend,” he said, hardly a trace of mirth to his name. Both of his arms were still around your frame, gently cradling you, as if a stiff breeze might sweep you away from him once more. You could feel his body shifting with every breath he took, slowly finding yourself matching the movements. One of Jesse’s hands moves to cup your cheek, fingers sliding so carefully that you almost didn’t feel it, but you lean it instinctively, finding your lips placing a whisper of a kiss against his wrist. “Darling,” he breathes, voice caught in his throat, blocked by joy and surprise alike.

    “I’m sorry for worrying you, Jesse. I swear I never meant to just vanish like that,” you plead, tears pricking the corner of your eyes. “Things were bad, and I… I just ran from that, I guess. But you didn’t deserve that, at all, and I swear to whatever passes for high heaven these days, if you give me a chance-....” Pulled in closer, you couldn’t help but squeak a little when Jesse plants a kiss on your forehead. One of his hands is rubbing gentle circles into your back. A reassurance, one you desperately needed. “I can make it up to you. We can do better this time, right?...”

    Jesse didn’t say anything, at least not at first, but the feeling of his hat settling down on your head gave you all the answers you’d ever need.

[wftc141]

Blackwatch Chapter 8: Comeback

08:30 PM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

Tana del Lupo Training Centre

September, 2018

The team had just cleared out a room before heading for the next and final area. Ray had been leading his team throughout the course, armed with MP5SDs and suppressed MP7s. They were taking part in a training exercise under Gabriel’s command to assess how fast they clear out a hostile-infested building. They have already reached the one minute mark which was the average time. The team made their way down the hallway, heading for the end of the hallway which was made out of wood and built to resemble a house. 

Once the team stacked up by the door, Ray stepped aside and got out his flashbang. Genji stepped towards the door and slightly opened it, leaving a narrow gap wide enough for Ray to toss the flashbang. As soon as the flashbang entered the room, Genji swiftly closed it shut and waited as the loud bang erupted from inside. 

Ray stepped forward and kicked the door open, entering the room filled with several steel targets shaped to resemble gunmen and opened fire on them as his team followed him inside and took care of the rest. Ray hit most targets with several shots and no misses. Once all the targets were hit, the team gave the all-clear as they double checked the room. Shortly, they heard the alarm ring. The announcer then spoke in Italian before pausing.

“Exercise complete. Please make your way to the nearest exit.” The announcer said in English.

The team then headed for the exit nearby where they met up with Gabriel, Amélie, Moira and McCree who were all watching the exercise from the camera feeds.

“Nicely done,” Gabriel said. “But it needs to be faster. Head back to the starting point and get ready.”

The team complied and headed back. However, Ray had something on his mind affecting his focus. He wasn’t sure what it was but he felt empty, like something was missing.

“Ray?” Gabriel called, snapping Ray back into reality.

“Yeah?” Ray hastily replied.

“You alright?”

Ray nodded hurriedly. “I’m fine, boss.” 

Gabriel almost looked as if he could see what he was thinking but he said nothing beyond that. “Good. You’re on point again.” 

Ray went back with the team for the exercise redo and they were dismissed after completing several more runs.  

________________________________________

11:20 PM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

Vicolo Cellini

Ray didn’t feel like going back home without something to drink. He stopped by the particular bar some of his teammates frequent and ordered some vodka. Ray ignored the idle chatter from behind as he poured vodka into a glass to sip. The TV noise was drowned out by the voices echoing across the room. Ray’s eyes plastered on the dull, wooden counter as he swirled his drink.

“Knew I would find you here.”

Ray turned to his left and noticed Marvel standing next to him. Ray remained unfazed and turned away.

“Wasn’t really hiding.” Ray replied as he sipped his vodka.

“Well, you act like Genji sometimes,” Marvel said. “Always a loner.”

“Guess I’m just not that talkative.”

“I can see that.”

Marvel sat down beside Ray and called the waiter for some beer. Marvel took the glass filled with golden alcohol and frothy foam to top it off and took a swig.

“Moira told me you got divorced.” Marvel said, wiping his mouth.

“Told you or told everyone on the team?” Ray asked.

“Told the whole team.”

“Wouldn’t say I’m surprised.”

There was a pause between the two as the loud chatter behind them continued to flow in the bar. 

“Sorry about your split.” Marvel said.

Ray sighed as he downed his vodka. “It's okay. I’m over it. It was bound to happen at some point.” 

Marvel glanced at Ray who remained expressionless and unfazed over his divorce.

“Was she a problem?” He asked.

“Nah,” Ray shook his head. “More like she believed I married for the job… and she’s right. I’ve always preferred the field over normal work.”

Marvel remained silent since there was nothing to say about it.

“To be honest,” Ray continued. “Part of me did want the marriage to end… but one part of me wanted a normal life. Fat chance of me having it if there’s gonna be some assholes out there killing innocent people while we just sit on the sidelines.”

Marvel could at least understand Ray’s point of view. Almost having the similar mindset as their team leader. Ray then took another sip of his vodka.

“Anyways, how'd you end up in Blackwatch?” Marvel asked, switching the topic. “Never really got the chance to ask.” 

Ray sighed as he set his glass down. “NATO saw my records of my deployments during my time with the Rangers. Afghanistan, Iraq, Libya. I was like a scalp collector of my squad back then. They gave me an opportunity to go after more bad guys and I was like ‘yeah, why not?’ And that’s why I’m here.”  

Marvel was a bit surprised about Ray’s background as he’s just like any other Special Forces operator.

“What about you? What are you here for?” Ray asked.

“Probably for the same reason as you,” Marvel replied, taking a sip of his beer. “I was part of a squadron for a joint military operation in Boklovo back in 2016.”

“Kurjikstan?”

“Yeah, that one. You know about it?”

Ray nodded. “Yeah, the Boklovo Siege. ISIS overthrew the city and kept the outside world out. They held the locals hostages for a month until the US and the Kurjikstani army went in to liberate the city.”

“Yeah, I was there. We took care of the airstrikes for the areas the military couldn’t reach. It was a real tough one to crack, considering the terrorists somehow stole some advanced anti-aircraft weaponry but we managed to break through it. Guess NATO heard about me through that.”

“Something tells me you went through more than just that. Something similar to that time you got separated from your team during that mission in Russia.”

“Moira tell you that?”

“Told the whole team.”

Marvel chuckled, knowing Ray can at least joke.

“Well, it wasn’t my first time getting split from my team,” he said. “It was way back in my cadet years. I was doing a field exercise with my group and the German Air Force when my aircraft suddenly malfunctioned. It was spinning like crazy. I couldn’t keep the aircraft steady and there was nowhere safe I could land since we were over some forest. So I used the ejector seat to free myself.”

Based on Marvel’s experience, he does remind Ray of Scott O'Grady.

“Long story short, I landed in the woods and ended up getting my parachute tangled in the trees but the thing was, it was so fucking dark I couldn’t see shit. For some reason, I took off my parachute while I was hanging and I broke my leg.”

“Damn. How bad was it?” Ray asked.

“Hurt like hell but I wasn’t gonna stop over a broken leg,” Marvel continued. “I had to use the trees to steady myself and those LED finger lights from the survival kit to find my way around. About what felt like hours later, I reached a rundown village and used my signal flare to mark my position. About half an hour, I got picked up by the Kampfretter and got treated back at base, though I had to sit out of service for several months because of my leg.” 

Ray let out a whistle as he drank his vodka.

“That was pretty ballsy, wandering in a dark ass forest with a broken leg. Props to that, dude.”

“Thanks,” Marvel nodded. “Turns out, the reason why my jet malfunctioned was because of a mechanical issue and the mechanics didn’t notice it somehow. They got a heavy scolding after they found out, and put them on suspension.”

“That was a little harsh for a technical issue, don’t you think?”

“Easy for you to say, man. You got shot on your first mission and still survived!”

“Not the first time I’ve been shot so that was nothing.”

Marvel simply chuckled and the two clinked their glasses before downing their drinks. 

The two then turned to the TV, with the news headline catching their attention. The language was in Italian but from what they could understand, there was a sudden car bombing in London near Harrods. Footage showed police surrounding a charred car near the destroyed shops. 

The reporter then said that several people, including a police officer, were killed in the explosion while multiple people, including another police officer, were in hospital treated for their wounds while the surviving police officer was in critical condition. And the crazy thing was, it happened an hour ago.

“Jesus,” Ray mutters. “This is fucked up.”

“You can say that again.” Marvel replied.

________________________________________

(One Hour Earlier)

9:58 PM, Local Time

London, England

Sergeant Joyce Welsh took a bite into her nearly finished burrito. Her schedule change had unfortunately disrupted her plans to spend her time with her family since the changes were in response to ‘suspicious activity’ for the past few weeks. Their nightly patrol so far spotted nothing out of the ordinary so she and her partner Inspector Tim Campbell got some Taco Bell down at the tourist-friendly and the upheld King’s Row to spend some time together. 

Welsh’s partner was slightly older but more experienced which was where Welsh learned a thing or two from him. He was a reliable and trusty man to both his fellow officers and to Welsh and her family.

“So how’s things back home?” Campbell asked, still eating his taco.

“Not too bad,” Welsh replied, eating some of the fries. “We’re just about done prepping for Tanya’s birthday tomorrow.”

Campbell sat up and glanced at her in surprise. “Wait, tomorrow’s her birthday?” 

Welsh bit half of the fry before looking at her partner.

“Yeah, didn’t my husband tell you? I guess he forgot.”

“Bloody hell, I was too busy catching jackers and drunkards. Didn’t know your young daughter is about to have her 9th birthday.”

Welsh scoffed. “You and your priorities, mate.”

“Am I invited?”

“You know bloody well my daughter would want you to come. She practically worships you now.” 

Campbell simply chuckled and they ate in silence with Campbell finishing up his tacos while their radio faintly blared. Welsh remembered that one time Campbell tackled a suspect into a fountain when he was out terrorizing people at a park. This man was completely focused on his job to protect the people. That’s what made him one of the many respected officers of the city.

Welsh looked out at the street they parked at and noticed a drunk couple stumbling across the road. The guy was in a tacky coloured tracksuit and the woman he was holding wore a light cherry playsuit and she was carrying her heels. Both of them look as if they had been wasted at the nearest nightclub and the woman was probably someone the guy sweet talked for some drinks. Welsh watched as the man leaned onto a parked car before reaching the path on the other side. She couldn’t help but scoff and roll her eyes. Millennials these days. Besides, she hasn’t heard from her partner’s family for a while.

“How’s your family doing?” Welsh asked.

“Me?” Campbell glanced at her.

Before he could continue, Welsh heard the sound of a nearby roar of a car engine and turned around to notice a grey car speed past them like lightning, completely ignoring the police cruiser behind them. Even Campbell had just caught on what happened.

“Right, we’ll talk later. Let’s get to work.” Welsh said as she activated the sirens.

As Campbell quickly stored away his food, Welsh drove off and went after the speeding car with the sirens blaring loudly. They left the market street and headed down the main road. 

“Dispatch, this is Unit 1. We are in pursuit of a speeding driver in King’s Row. Grey BMW X5, no registration plate.”

Quickly attaching the radio back, Welsh looked up and saw the grey car speeding down the street. The car doesn’t look like it plans to stop but neither is Welsh. The cars in front of her began to swerve out of her way as she chased after the grey car. The car began to bump into other vehicles in their way, causing some to drive right into poles and almost into people. 

“This bastard is gonna get someone killed! We need to stop him!” Campbell said as they chased the suspect.

“Dispatch, suspect is now driving erratically and endangering the public. Requesting backup, over.”

“Copy, Unit 1. Officers are on their way to assist, over.” 

“Copy, Dispatch. Out.” 

A few intense minutes have passed and they have reached Knightsbridge. The sirens have managed to attract attention from shoppers and tourists alike. The grey car was going much faster than it was, zipping past several vehicles in front. As the remaining vehicles made way for the blaring cruiser, Welsh noticed the grey car was starting to slow down before stopping near Harrods where several passers were. Something must’ve made the driver come to his senses. Welsh parked the cruiser a few meters away from the grey BMW. She noticed several people were watching the scene unfold.

“Thank God. Alright, let’s go talk to him.” Campbell said before opening the door.

Welsh got out and approached the grey car alongside Campbell. Several people walked past the car to mind their own business while some had their phones out. 

“Dispatch, suspect has pulled over. Approaching him now, over.”

“Copy, Unit 1. Proceed with caution.”

For some reason, she was feeling somewhat dreadful about what was inside the car. Something was giving her a really bad feeling. Campbell was the first to reach the car. As she approached the car, Welsh heard what sounded like a bag rustling from inside and noticed the driver sitting upright alongside the passenger, holding something up.

“Death to capitalism.”

The last thing she saw was a bright, fiery blast flash in front of her eyes before everything went black.

________________________________________

(Present)

12:30 PM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

Embassy of the United States

Gabriel hadn’t had lunch yet but he was going to pass up on it for now. His new Commander, Jack Morrison, has just called him in for a meeting. His best guess was that it was about the bombings that had rocked the world last night, ever since the bombing in London. Amsterdam, Tokyo, Sydney, Barcelona, even Miami. All involving bombings and a handful of deaths. This was a coordinated attack and whoever's responsible must have prepared intensely. Fortunately, Italy hasn’t been hit for now.

Terrorist attacks are unpredictable but this was beyond their expectations. Not one but several more attacks and this wasn’t even Al-Qaeda’s handiwork. These people are professionals, much more than Al-Qaeda. Gabriel hoped that he and his team would at least be given a shot to find whoever’s responsible and take them down before they can hurt any further innocent people. 

Once he arrived and entered the new briefing room, Gabriel found Jack standing near a board filled with pictures and files attached, including a large map with drawn circles.

“You called me, Jack?” Gabriel called.

Jack turned around to face him. “Yes, I did. We have a situation and I need you and Blackwatch for this.”

“What’s the sitrep?”

“There’s a weapons deal scheduled to take place in Romania and the mafia’s involved. I need it to be stopped.”

Gabriel looked at Jack in confusion as the conversation had nothing to do with what’s happening right now. To Gabriel, he feels like he was slapped in the face.

“What about the bombings?” He asked.

“It’s Null Sector,” Jack replied. “They’ve just come out of hiding after ten years and have claimed responsibility for the attacks, calling it their ‘explosive comeback’. We have also just discovered possible Null Sector activity here in Rome so we’re tightening security there.”

“Then let's go after them.”

“Can’t. Too high profile and we can’t afford to stir up further panic.”

Gabriel then approached Jack, slowly closing in face-on.

“So let me get this straight,” he said. “You want me and my team to go after a mafia while there’s a group of dangerous terrorists out there wreaking havoc across the world?”

“I have a team handling this situation.” Jack replied.

“Are they even good?”

“They’re professionals like you, Gabriel. Of course they are.” 

Gabriel scoffed. Jack was trying to play it safe. He knows that Blackwatch doesn’t operate under the rules, yet he’s using another team to deal with the terrorists under the government’s rule and for all he knows, this could be a mistake. Jack sighed and turned away to his desk to pick something up.

“I know you want to go after these guys but I need you and your team for this one.” Jack said, handing Gabriel a Manila folder with ‘classified’ stamped on the front.

Gabriel silently took the folder and opened it. Inside was a pile of files with the one in front of him showing two photographs. One was an aerial image of a ranch house near a river with several deserted cars and bodies and the other was a black-and-white photograph of a familiar looking group.

“This rings any bells for you?” Jack asked.

Gabriel had already recognized the aerial image as soon as he saw it. He scared their hired hackers into staying away from them.

“The People’s Republic of Romania?” Gabriel guessed.

“It's a good thing you have an extensive memory.” Jack said.

Gabriel turned the page over and read another typed file with separate photographs of a different gang and a figure with a question mark as well as an aerial image of a rundown apartment complex. Dealer was written in red below the photograph.

“We’ve received intel that they’re taking part in a weapons deal in Ferentari near Bucharest with a local Russian mafia and an anonymous arms dealer only known as the Coin.” Jack continued.

“What’s the product?” Gabriel asked.

“We don’t know. Our guess is it’s something big since the Coin is the one-stop-shop for organized crime syndicates and terrorist organizations. Interpol’s got a Red Notice on his head and several other countries have been trying to catch him for a long time. He recently supplied weapons to the Gwishin of North Korea for their attempted assassination of South Korea’s Prime Minister Chung Nam-il.”

“When’s the deal?”

“It's happening tonight. Fio’s getting the plane ready for you and your team as we speak. Wheels will be up in 1900 hours.”

Gabriel was still unsure about doing the mission but the Coin has been involved in a lot of his previous missions which makes it a big deal.

“You’re sure that your team’s capable of handling Null Sector?” Gabriel asked.

“I wouldn’t have formed this team in the first place if they weren’t.” Jack replied.

Gabriel still doesn’t trust Jack’s team in dealing with the terrorists but this was just for the sake of doing a favor for his old friend. 

“Alright. My team will take part in this mission.” 

“Good,” Jack nodded. “And if possible, capture the Coin. We need to know his identity and find out who his buyers are so we can go after them.”  

Gabriel nodded and turned away, heading for the door.

“Gabriel,” Jack called, grabbing the team leader’s attention. “We’ll get ‘em. Don’t you worry about it.”

Gabriel simply grunted before walking out of the room to report their new mission to his team, which he knows won’t be warmly accepted. 

________________________________________

8:30 PM, Local Time

Romania Airspace

The team was just an hour away from their destination in Bucharest. All of them were involved since they were going to need more firepower just in case the situation escalated into a violent shootout. For the operation, the team was going to HALO jump out of the C130 to reach Ferentari.

Not everybody was keen on conducting an operation while there were ongoing terrorist attacks outside though it wasn’t their position to object. Ray however wasn’t going to stay silent about it.

“This is bullshit.” He said.

“Easy now, Ray.” McCree said.

“No, I'm serious. We should be going after those sons of bitches who are orchestrating those bombings. It’s not just London whose under attack, it’s happening all across the world.”

“Our orders are to stop a potential exchange of a dangerous weapon.” Gabriel said.

“Why are we wasting our time with the mafia when we should be going after the terrorists killing innocent people?”

“Cause we have orders, Ray!” Gabriel snapped, raising his voice. “We don’t question orders! We follow them! If I hear one more word that is not related to this mission come out of your fucking mouth, I’ll make sure your ass is not part of any other operations! Am I clear?”

Ray went quiet immediately, knowing he went out of line.

“Yes sir.” 

“Good. Now shut the fuck up and focus on the mission.” Gabriel said.

Ray sat back and quietly sighed. Of course, his stance on this matter hasn’t changed but this wasn’t the time or place to make it obvious. The rest of the team remained quiet, not planning on provoking Gabriel anytime soon. 

________________________________________

8:57 PM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

The drive down the lightly-lit roads of Rome was silent. The black SUV drove past the bridge, where the road would lead them to a potential Null Sector hideout. Intel has confirmed that Null Sector has plans to attack Rome and after pinpointing their hideout, the Valorant Protocol, founded by Jack Morrison, were given the green light to go after Null Sector. As an elite clandestine unit of NATO, Valorant handles counter-terrorism and off-the-books operations under the government’s approval.

Team leader Brimstone, former DEVGRU commander and the co-founder of Valorant, set his sights forward on the road as the team drove down the partially empty and dark lane with small flashes of traffic lights. Brimstone is like any other American Special Force op, with his commendable bravery and his sturdy will for both himself and his Development Group boys.

For this operation, Brimstone and his team were given uniforms to resemble the NOCS to create a cover that they’re conducting a raid as the tactical unit of the Italian police and even armed with the same gear and weapons the NOCS would carry. The team was ready and two minutes to their destination.

“All callsigns, abort objective! I repeat, abort the objective!”

Brimstone at first thought he heard wrong but his ears were fine. Morrison sounded desperate and when he is desperate, it could mean one thing. Brimstone tapped on the radio.

“Sarge to Command, what’s happening, over?” He asked.

“I need you in Piazza di Spagna immediately!” Morrison quickly answered. “Our intel was wrong! The attack is happening now! I repeat, Null Sector is attacking Piazza di Spagna! Sending you the coordinates!”

Brimstone’s eyes widened. His team around him glanced at him, waiting for further instructions while the driver was still heading straight. Brimstone quickly recollected himself and got back with the radio.

“Copy, Command. We’re en route, out,” Brimstone then turned to the driver. “Cypher, turn this car around now!” 

“Got it!” The driver stopped the car and turned back towards their new destination. 

________________________________________

9:50 PM, Local Time

Bucharest, Romania

Ferentari 

After landing in Ferentari, the team spread themselves out across the open area where the meeting was going to take place. Ray was partnered up with Amélie where they’re providing overwatch from a seven floor abandoned apartment complex 700 yards away from the open area. Ray watched through the spotter, focusing on the Russian and the PRR mafia waiting for the Coin. Generators were scattered across the area with the light illuminating the mafia for brighter vision. 

Amélie had her M82A1 mounted on the ledge as she kept watch on the targets. While her eyes were through the scope keeping an eye on the mafia, she wondered how Ray was feeling right now. Even though she was the second-in-Command of Blackwatch, Amélie understood Ray’s point though she was never usually the person to express it.

“You okay, Ray?” Amélie asked.

Ray briefly paused for a moment.

“I’m fine.”

“I get that you’re frustrated that we’re not the ones handling the attacks. You’re not alone.” 

“Just need to focus on the mission, that’s all.” 

“I know. But I’m just letting you know that you’re not the only one.” 

“Look alive. We have a vehicle approaching the mob.” Gabriel informed through the comms.

Ray then noticed a black SUV arriving at the meeting before parking in front of the mafia. Shortly, a group of armed men with rifles stepped out and the last person stepping out of the car was a Caucasian man wearing a grey suit. The mafia looked at each other in confusion.

“Ты не тот, кого мы ждали.” A Russian gangster said.

“Я его помощник,” The man replied in Russian. “У моего босса есть дела стремиться к но у нас есть оружие, так что встреча будет продолжаться.”

Some of the gangsters conversed with one another, seemingly deciding what to do. The Russian gangster turned away from the others and turned back to the assistant with a nod. 

“Что у тебя?” The gangster said.

The assistant then called out for his men to show the goods in English. His men then pulled out some boxes from the boot as the gangsters waited and observed. Shortly, the men placed the boxes in front of the Russian. The Romanian gangsters waited for their turn but one of them noticed one of the assistant’s men staring down at them and had just turned the safety of his rifle off. 

Suddenly, as the Russian gangster opened the box, the assistant swiftly pulled out a gun from his jacket and dropped the Russian gangster, clean through the head. The assistant’s men suddenly started to open fire on the rest of the mafia before they could react. The Romanian gangsters tried to get their guns out but each ended up gunned down to the ground just like the rest.

“The fuck is this?” Ray muttered. 

“Let’s move out!” The assistant ordered.

The assistant and his men then rushed back into their car.

“Shadow 2, don’t let them get away.” Gabriel ordered.

As soon as Ray gave Amélie the distance and wind speed for her to calculate, a shot rang from her sniper rifle and Ray noticed both the driver and the passenger turn into crimson splatter.

By the time the assistant and his last bodyguard got out of the car, Gabriel and Marvel had already reached them. Marvel took care of the last bodyguard while Gabriel approached the assistant. Before Gabriel could tell the assistant to surrender, he raised his gun, only to be shot in the chest twice before falling onto the ground. 

While Gabriel finished off the assistant, McCree and Sombra checked the bodies of the Romanian mafia and Genji and Moira checked the Russian mafia. Gabriel and Marvel checked the bodies of the assistant’s bodyguards. Gabriel searched the assistant’s body and felt something solid in his pockets. Pulling it out, he found a phone with a lockscreen. Even using the assistant’s fingerprints won’t unlock the phone but it was intel material they could give to Sombra. 

Gabriel then noticed something that caught his attention. A Fairbairn–Sykes knife with capitalized Greek letters and a thunderbolt was tattooed on his neck. It was a tattoo that’s usually associated with the Delta Force. The Coin had been hiring Special Forces veterans.

“Uh, sir? We got a problem.” Marvel called.

Gabriel walked towards Marvel standing next to the boxes. Gabriel looked inside and noticed it was empty.

“What the fuck?” Gabriel muttered.

Sombra and McCree approached the two to see what they were looking at.

“Was this a setup?” Marvel asked.

Gabriel tries to put all the pieces together of what’s going on. The Coin doesn’t show up for the meet, his men started shooting his buyers and quickly tried to leave the area. Gabriel then starts to realize that this isn’t some sort of set up.  

“This was meant to draw us out…”

________________________________________

The Coin watched and observed the footage on his tablet from the safety of his car. He had one of his snipers positioned on the rooftop of one of the many apartments from afar with a camera attached to his scope. To sum it up, the Coin had been waiting for Blackwatch, the government’s secret weapon, to show up and show up they did. He watched their strategies and their method of taking down his assistant and his men with swiftness and discretion. They’re smart, which is a rare praise the Coin would give to them.

“Am I clear to engage, sir?” The sniper asked.

The Coin stared at the leader with the skull mask checking the empty boxes as he flipped his golden poker chip through his fingers before catching it. His cold, unnerving eyes locked with the operative.  

“No need. We have just enough intel for our friends back home.” The Coin said before ordering the sniper and his driver to move out.

________________________________________

9:06 AM, Local Time

Rome, Italy

Embassy of the United States

When the team returned to Rome, they were immediately hit with the bad news. Ray’s gut had been right after all. Null Sector ended up attacking Rome in Piazza Di Spagna and the other covert unit that was supposed to deal with them couldn’t prevent it due to bad intel. The post mission report detailed that more than twenty people, including the Null Sector terrorists, were killed that night. To think that innocent people were murdered in cold blood while they were out in Romania was unbelievable.

Ray watched from atop of the Embassy where he could see Piazza Di Spagna from a distance. One of the towers was hit by a suicide bomber and the damage left behind was out in the open as a message. 

“Mind if I join you?”

Ray looked behind his shoulder and noticed Marvel walking up to him. 

“Go right ahead.” Ray replied.

Marvel then reached Ray and stood next to him, watching the aftermath of Piazza di Spagna.

“Shame about what happened down there. Those guys did their best to contain the attack but the intel team fucked up on their end.”

“I saw the report,” Ray said. “There’s no way they screwed this up and allowed this to happen.”

Marvel remained unfazed, only sighed softly.

“We’re not superheroes, man,” Marvel said. “We can’t save everyone.”

The two stared down at the plaza in silence as sounds of beeps echoed from afar.

“So what now?” Ray asked.

“Dunno,” Marvel shrugged. “Guess we just wait for the next mission that lands on our desk.” 

“Is this what we’re doing now? Waiting?”

“It’s what we do in the line of work, man.”

Marvel then turned away to head back in.

“Do you know why I joined the army in the first place?” Ray suddenly said.

Marvel stopped before turning around to listen.

“I joined because of 9/11,” Ray continued. “I was about 11 when the towers fell. The smoke came to me like a sand monster. I was wandering around the streets calling for my parents. Don’t know why I did that while they were in the North Tower. My bratty ass went out exploring because I got bored watching my parents work.”

Marvel said nothing. Even though he understood Ray’s motivations, anybody would have joined the army when 9/11 struck. It was a wake-up call for the Americans there. Before Marvel could respond, the door behind them opened and the two turned to notice McCree approaching them.

“You two, we’re needed for a meeting.”

________________________________________

9:20 AM, Local Time

Blackwatch was summoned in the new briefing room where their leaders were expected to deliver some updates on the current situation. Joining them was both Jack and Valorant, the team that couldn’t prevent the Rome attack. Valorant was already up to date with Blackwatch’s situation with the Coin. The board in front of the team was covered with pictures and files all gathered in one place.

“Since we’re all here, we have some intel regarding the mission Blackwatch conducted in Romania,” Jack said. “The phone Captain Reyes retrieved from the Coin’s assistant was enough to confirm our target’s identity.” 

Gabriel then approached the board and flipped over a blank photo to a cutout of a Forbes magazine cover of a well-dressed man with slicked hair and noticeable elegance.

“Meet the Coin, Maximilien Rousset.” 

“Isn’t that the magnate who owns a shit load of casinos and businesses across the world?” Marvel said.

“That’s him alright,” Gabriel answered. “But that’s just his cover. He’s an arms dealer in the black market but at some point, he has been working with a high value client or organization. We don’t know who exactly but we know Maximilien has been indirectly responsible for several of our missions for the past few months.”

“And we learned from our intel team that Maximilien had aided weapons to the Null Sector cell in Rome.” Jack added.

The team said nothing but there were signs of surprise and anger.

“I know all of you are upset,” Jack continued. “I feel the same way. To think that this happened not just in our homeland but across the world in one day… it’s a lot to take in.”

“And we’ll be the ones to let these sons of bitches know we won’t just take it lying down,” Gabriel added. “We’ll make sure anything like this never happens again, no matter what.”

Shortly after a few words, the teams were dismissed and Jack went off to tend to Valorant. Gabriel stayed behind and spent his morning reading the board. Everything from pictures to reports and newspaper article cutouts. Something was bothering Gabriel about Maximilien. The fake deal in Romania was meant to draw Blackwatch out. Maximilien wanted to see Blackwatch in the flesh but why exactly? Something was telling him that Maximilien is going to be an adversary from now on.

“Staring at him won’t make him appear.” Amélie said.

Gabriel didn’t need to look behind his shoulder. He anticipated she would stay behind. Gabriel simply sighed and continued reading the board.

“What’re you still doing here?” He asked.

“Knew you would stay behind so I did the same thing.” Amélie answered. Gabriel then heard her footsteps close in from behind.

“Of course. You’re the mysterious Widowmaker.” 

Amélie chuckled. She was now standing beside him, watching the board with him.

“You should also know something,” Amélie said. “It’s about Ray.”

“What’d he do now?” Gabriel asked.

“Nothing. But there’s something about him that’s very strange.”

Gabriel glanced at Amélie. “What do you mean?”

“He reminded me of someone who wanted to be a soldier as if it was his destiny.”

Gabriel wasn’t sure what Amélie was talking about.

“What’re you trying to tell me?” He asked.

“My point is that you should talk to Ray and at least listen to what he has to say. Because what he said back on the plane was right.”

With that said, Amélie turned away and left the room, leaving Gabriel by himself. Gabriel knew Amélie was telling the truth about Ray but he wasn’t sure how to handle it. He had always been a team leader who’d follow any order given by his superiors but there would be a time where his orders would cross the line morally and trap him on a tightrope. Still, Gabriel couldn’t get Maximilien out of his mind and it was puzzling to piece the connections between Maximilien’s intentions and the past missions.

________________________________________

(Three Weeks Later)

9:51 PM, Local Time

French Polynesia

October, 2018

Will Zambezi checked his watch with the screen reflecting from the ceiling. It was almost 10 PM and his client was still mingling with his business partners. His service in the South African Special Forces had prepared him for the job and his resume was packed with successful escorts for several other high-profile clients. His newest client for him and his security team: Vernand Sainclair, CEO of Sainclair Pharmaceuticals.

Sainclair acted as some sort of messiah to the public when he promised affordable medicine but like many other CEOs he knew, Sainclair was no different. Rich, stylish and self-centred, the many manifestations of a famous CEO nowadays. 

The money he used went into clothes, jewelry, fancy cars and one hell of a superyacht which Zambezi was in right now moored away from his vacation resort in French Polynesia. Some messiah he is. Zambezi watched Sainclair try to speak through his laughs as he held his glass of champagne, wearing a light coloured summer shirt with cream coloured dress pants and gold jewelry. Alongside Sainclair and his business partners, they’re being spoiled by beautiful women accompanying them. Zambezi would bet half of the women are their mistresses considering most of them are married except Sainclair. 

Sighing, Zambezi stared ahead while his clients continued to go on with their drunken rants. He noticed Cruz and Russell across the lounge also standing in boredom while watching Sainclair as well. Suddenly, the room went dark and the chatter was cut off. It was pitch black and nobody could see anything. 

“What was that?” One of the partners said.

“I can’t see anything.”

Zambezi looked around as the confusion arose. He then reached for his radio.

“Spearhead to Team A, status, over.” 

There was no response. His radio wasn’t even working. Something or someone must’ve disabled the electrical system completely but there was certainty of who.

“Got nothing on my feed, sir.” Cruz said.

Zambezi turned to Cruz and Russell. “You two, formation.” 

“Yes sir.”

His bodyguards then surrounded Sainclair and his group, hands on their holsters. None of the guards had flashlights and that was hard enough. 

“What’s going on? Is something happening?” Sainclair asked.

“I don’t know but I need all of you to stay calm.” Zambezi said.

Suddenly, they heard gunshots from outside, startling everyone in the room. At this point, everybody was sobered up and panicking. Sounds of semi-automatic gunfire echoed from outside and it was starting to get louder with time. Zambezi and his men then pulled their pistols out of their holsters and closed in with Sainclair. 

“Mr Sainclair, we need to move you and your group to the panic room ASAP. Follow me and do exactly as I say. Cruz, with me. Russell, take point.”

“Yes, sir!” 

The team began to make their move towards the door. Zambezi’s best bet was that this was a pirate attack. However, there was no possible way for pirates to obtain some sort of device to start a blackout but it was more likely that they took the blackout as an advantage. As the team led Sainclair and his group down the dark corridor, gunfire continued to erupt with sounds of rapid rounds echoed from outside. Zambezi could hear what sounded like a LMG firing from the other side.

The entirety of the yacht was dark and Zambezi's eyes eventually began to adapt to the blackness as he and his team navigated across the expensive yacht. Russell, who was leading the team, peeked through a corner with his pistol aimed before allowing the team to continue safely. 

The team had reached the stairs leading to the panic room. Suddenly, gunfire rang from nowhere and Russell fell over, tumbling down the stairs as the pistol bounced off the steps. Sainclair flinched and some of his friends panicked once again. 

“Russell’s down!” Zambezi shouted. Their attackers were surprisingly more capable than he expected since they were able to see through the dark.

“Nine o’clock!” Cruz shouted.

Zambezi immediately turned around and noticed several pairs of faint red dots illuminating from a distance before a flash and gunfire brightened up the dark. Cruz fell before he could react and before he knew it, Zambezi was hit in the chest and fell back with a violent thud. 

One by one, Sainclair’s group was mercilessly shot down when most tried to run. One of the women was shot in the neck and began to choke and gurgle as she fruitlessly tried to cover her bloody neck. The red eyed figures closed in and one of them reached the dying woman with his rifle aimed at her. Before she could beg, he shot her dead before turning away to focus his aim at Sainclair, who was the only one spared for some reason. More figures emerged from all around them and aimed their rifles at Sainclair, all shouting ‘clear’ as they formed. Sainclair already had his hands up.

“This is Doubleday, we got eyes on the asset, over.” One of the figures said. A pause between. “Copy. Out.”

Zambezi noticed through the dark that the figures didn’t look close to being pirates. They were all kitted up in dark military-grade uniforms with armor from the shoulder pads down to the groin protectors, as well as M50 gas masks with red NODs attached to their helmets. Each of them bore a distinctive patch on their vests and shoulders but Zambezi couldn’t make out what it was. Something was off about them. Something that felt supernatural and inhuman.

“Who are you people?! What do you want?!” Sainclair shouted. Nobody responded.

Shortly, another similarly geared up group arrived and one of them was towering over the rest, heavily muscular and large like a mountain while wearing the same gear but more armored. He was carrying a LMG fitted with multiple attachments like the others with the muzzle still emitting smoke. He was listening to someone through the comms as he approached them.

“Copy. We’re clear at our in. Setting charges.” A voice said.

The large gunman then approached Sainclair, walking over the bodies before him. As he held the LMG up, he then lifted his NODs up, giving Sainclair a view of the visor of his gas mask.

“Vernand Sainclair,” He said. “It's been too long.”

Sainclair’s eyes widened when he glanced up at the bulky figure.

“M-Mauga?” Sainclair muttered, recognizing the filtered voice.

“I see you’re doing pretty well for yourself, buddy. I mean, you can afford a nice yacht now. How’s the company doing?”

“Why are you here? We had a deal! I gave your leader enough information and kept quiet about you all and you let me walk away!” 

Mauga then erupted into laughter and the rest of the figures laughed along over their filtered masks. Sainclair stared in confusion and anger, unable to think straight.

“And you bought every single word they said? Heh, you got jokes, buddy. I’ll give you that. But there’s a catch you missed. No one leaves Talon that easily.”

Mauga then pulled out his sidearm from his holster. Sainclair’s pants began to increase by the second. 

“Well, I did say I wanted to kill you,” Mauga said as he racked the slide. “And today is the day I keep my promise.”

Mauga aimed the pistol at Mauga with his finger lightly on the trigger. Sainclair’s pleas were going nowhere and the gunmen all stood eerily still. A few seconds passed and no gunshot rang. Mauga suddenly snorted and let out a laugh, lowering the pistol.

“I’m just messing with ya, buddy! You shoulda seen the look on his face! He looked like he was having a heart attack!”

The gunmen laughed alongside Mauga while Sainclair stared dumbfounded but still fearing for his life. Zambezi caught a glimpse of one of the gunmen who was the only one not laughing. Eventually, Mauga and the gunmen calmed down and he holstered his pistol.

“Anyways, we aren’t here to kill you. That comes later. Boss needs you alive and we’re here to take you back.”

“What does he want?” Sainclair croaked.

“Dunno. You’ve been a reliable asset for Talon for a long time and they really want you back home.”

“Why?”

Mauga paused and sighed eagerly. “Let’s just say that he has big plans for you. For all of us. For history to come.”

Sainclair’s eyes narrowed down into resistance and scowled at Mauga. Even through the gas mask, Zambezi could see the eyes of a predator ready to take its shot.

“You think I’ll just agree to your-”

Suddenly, Mauga pulled his pistol in a split second and shot at Sainclair’s shoulder, with the bullet just cutting past the surface of the skin. Sainclair shouted in pain as he stumbled backwards and gripped onto his shoulder. 

“That wasn’t a request, Vernand,” Mauga said with coldness escaping his mouth. “You’re coming back with us, one way or another, unless you want Captain to find out I did more than just graze you. I promised them I would bring you back in one piece and the last thing I wanna do is drag another body for tonight.” 

“Charges are set. Ready for detonation.” The same voice from Mauga’s comms said.

“Copy, Pacanowsky. Stand-by,” Mauga then turned his attention back to Sainclair. “Bag the asset and let’s roll outta here. And make sure to slow the bleeding. We don’t wanna lose him on our way back.”

The masked gunmen then approached Sainclair and pulled him up by his collar. Two of them tied Sainclair behind his back and the other put a bag over his head before dragging him with them and heading off. 

Zambezi may be helpless and dying but he still got some fight in him. Blood was already oozing out of his mouth and his consciousness was slipping away but he was willing to make one last move. Sainclair may be a rich asshole but his behavior didn’t change Zambezi’s duty to protect him at all costs. 

He reached his pistol and weakly raised it to aim at one of the gunmen. Zambezi’s hand rigorously shook as he desperately tried to pull the trigger. Suddenly, Mauga stopped and spun around with his pistol aimed back at Zambezi’s direction. A gunshot rang in front of him and the light went dark for good.

[crassussativum]

ooc- Enemies and Allies: Chapter 12

Chapter 12

“Mav,” Crassus called over his shoulder. “I’ve got a distress signal coming in.”

“Let me see.” Mav climbed over the back of the co-pilot’s chair and leaned forward to check the readout himself.  “That’s one of our signals.”

“Hierarchy?” He admittedly hadn’t spent much time in cockpits in general to know every intricate signal. He knew enough to recognize a generic distress call but not the specificity of them.

“Undercover Blackwatch special.” He explained, tones deadpan. “Hell, that’s Fiend’s call sign. Set a course, big guy. We’re needed.”

Crassus set the course as Mav headed back to get into his armor. After a moment’s thought, he put the ship into auto-pilot and went to do the same. He got to their room right as Mav was wiggling into his under-suit.

“Any idea what we can expect?”

“I read the signal same as you, big guy.” Mav grumbled, fighting with the pieces of his armor as he snapped them into place. “Could be engine trouble, could be a fight, could be Fiend’s dead in the water and needs a tow.”

He flicked his mandibles. “I’m sure you know but this is my first non-ground-side posting. A distress signal out here has larger meaning than a distress signal on the ground.”

“Space make you nervous, big guy?” The smaller turian teased.

“Of course it does.” Crassus flared his mandibles at him. “Especially after you told me you died out there.”

“That was an accident. A shitty accident, mind you, but with any luck there’ll be no space walk for either of us.” Mav said and sealed up the piece of armor that protected his throat. “We’ll dock with Fiend’s ship, you’ll stay on board while I check it out-”

“Shouldn’t we check it out together?”

“Hell, if we do that and there’s pirate shit goin’ on, you’ll get my ship stolen or worse. That’d really piss me off. Nah, you stay on board ‘til I give the all clear and then we’ll go from there. But comin’ outta the gate I’m gonna treat Fiend’s ship as hostile area cuz for all we know it is.”

“Ah… Right.” Crassus paused with his own armor. The suggestion had been a foolish one. Mav was right about the possibility and the probability of it. “Right.”

“Still put your armor on.” Mav ordered. “All of it.”

…

The shuttle was all by itself and without external signs of damage. It ruled out a pirate attack but Mav still ordered him to stay in the cockpit while he boarded it. Crassus watched the feed from his body-cam. The smaller turian put his hand to the wall as he left the hangar, fingers splayed and the flashlight on his armor illuminating it.

“Ship is silent,” He reported. “I’m waitin’ for my omnitool to connect to the ship’s systems… and it’s not.” Mav sighed. “Dead in the water like I thought. Escape pod is still here though.”

Mav turned and the feed showed Crassus the escape pod still docked with some residual power lighting it up on the outside. The emergency strips along the floor were still lit as welll which meant at least back-up power was still coursing through the ship.

“I’m gonna head to the cockpit first. Maybe Fiend locked herself in there when the ship went dark.”

“Understood,” Crassus said and took a moment to look at their own ship’s readouts as it struggled to connect. “I’m still not getting any readings from inside Fiend’s ship at all.”

“Last I knew, she had a nifty little stealth driver installed. Makes the damn thing invisible to almost everythin’. For all my ship knows, there’s an emergency beacon plopped down in the middle of space and nothin’ else here.”  

“Can you disconnect it?”

“I don’t think Fiend would like me much if I did that,” Mav chuckled. He reached the cockpit door. It was shut. “Fuckin’ thing’s sealed tighter than a pyjack’s asshole. No power runnin’ through it so I can maybe...”

Crassus watched him stick his fingers between the frame and the rubber seal and battle for leverage against it. It shouldn’t have worked at all but slowly the door began to slide open. He drew his mandibles in.

“Well I didn’t have to hack it so that’s a win in my book,” Mav muttered. “But shit, no air displacement or pressure is bad. Life support has to be down too.”

“It shouldn’t be if the emergency power is on.”

“Not if it’s the secondary. That’s focused solely on the escape pod and strip lighting. See?” Mav pointed and turned in a slow circle so his body-cam picked up everything in the cockpit. “It’s fuckin’ dark in here and quiet too. I don’t see any sign of Fiend.”

“Then get the blackbox and finish searching the ship so you can get off it.” Crassus told him.

“Yes sir, big guy, sir.” Mav shot back. “Like that weren’t my exact plan. I’m takin’ that stealth driver too.”

Crassus rubbed his eyes and sighed deeply through his nose. Mav should be taking their discovery a little more seriously. Ships didn’t just stop working and shut down with no sign of their crew or outward damage at random.

“What the fuck.”

“Mav?” He couldn’t see anything on the body-cam but for general outlines. “Mav?”

“Fiend was chasin’ a distress signal too.” He said.

Ships didn’t just shut down in the middle of space… “Mav, get off the ship.”

“I fuckin’ am, don’t yell at me.” Mav snapped and Crassus could see him shoving the blackbox into the bag he’d brought with him. “I’m swingin’ by the engine room.”

“Forget that, you need to-”

“You need to quit tellin’ me what to do cuz you’re freakin’ out. I’m freaked out and pissed ‘bout it. Fiend was followin’ my distress signal. Mine. I ain’t put out no distress signal.”

Crassus’ mandibles fell loosely along his jaw. “Spirits,” He breathed.

“You’re makin’ me freak out more, yeah? Don’t need that right now.” Mav growled. “Keep your eyes on our ship’s sensors. We can look at my cam’s recordin’ later. I wanna know if anyone’s tryin’ to sneak up on us.”

“Understood,” He said again and tore his attention away from the feed to focus on all their ship’s readings. It all looked fine, there were no proximity warnings, no strange signals of any kind. The ship was running as it should be and they were alone. Crassus looked out the view-port to be certain but they were indeed alone. Still, he couldn’t relax in the slightest with Mav out there on his own.

“I’ve found Fiend.” Mav’s voice was quiet through the comm link. “And fuckin’ hell, look at all she did in here. Her gun’s so overheated it melted into her hand.”

The turian woman was propped against the remains of a blown-apart drive core, head tipped down toward her chest at an angle exposing the hole there. Like something huge had reached into her chest and torn everything out. The wound wasn’t wet anymore. Mav had to be knelt right in front of her for the body-cam pick up so much detail. Crassus swallowed hard.

“Fuckin’ hell, Fiend...” He muttered. “Crassus. Look.”

Mav held up a long, bulky chunk of metal, dark gray with a stripe of dirty yellow and dried blood. Fiend’s talons and bullets had left deep furrows in it but it was still unmistakably a Geth arm.

[fromtheshadcws]

A lot of people see both Reyes and O’Deorain as villains of the story of Overwatch, at least to some degree. And not entirely out of the blue, of course: we see Reyes attempting to murder Overwatch agents and declare his hate for the organisation. We see Moira working with Talon, if not entirely under their jurisdiction, and know that she had a hand in the making of Reaper (and that it scared him). 

It’s real easy to conclude from this narrative, however limited it is, that they're the Bad Guys - and on a more interpersonal level for these two, that Moira is the ‘bad guy’ in Gabriel’s story, having doomed him to his half-life as a villain, who has potentially been brainwashed and has absolutely been fucked up physically.

Right?

However, your local potato disagrees.

Time to ramble.

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: as much as Overwatch’s lore leaves a lot to be desired (looking at you, Jeff ‘war buddies’ Kaplan) and Blizzard as a storyteller (I’m gonna ignore Blizzard as a company, which is an entirely different beast) is very much flawed, I do believe they know a bit about nuance. Especially Kaplan gives me some hope in that regard, considering what’s been said about Soldier, Reyes and up to a point Ana too. Unreliable narrators, everyone!

Now, what does this mean for me when it comes to Moira and Gabriel.

We know that Gabriel hired her after Overwatch revoked her licenses and basically disgraced her for her ‘unethical research’. This alone is already interesting: Blackwatch or not, Gabriel supposedly wasn’t someone who was unethical. Rather, he was willing to bend the rules. He hired people that he thought had a certain specialty that could be useful for Blackwatch - and I think he saw that in Moira, too.

But he also hired her because he knew that of all the researchers and medics he knew, she was the only one who was going to be willing to do what it took to help him with his own (genetical/SEP related) issues. No matter the cost. 

This alone is already very telling to me, for a few reasons. Gabriel isn’t someone who puts 100% in his trust in many people, but he trusted Moira enough to let her fuck with him on literally a cellular level. That speaks volumes. Does it mean he trusts her, or believes she’s playing only according to their rules? Hell no.

He wouldn’t do that, either.

But right from the moment he hired her for his strike team and as his personal medic, there is a base amount of trust that I like to believe is still there.

Then. Venice happens. A lot of people have theorized that the person who ‘betrayed’ them, told Talon that they were going to kill Antonio but also passed along a lot of research prior to that, was Moira. (Segadores-y-soldados summarized this in a much better way than I could, so give their essay a read if you want to get into the meat of things!) It is a pretty damn good theory, and I believe that at least some of it links up with my feelings on both Moira and Gabriel.

Do I think it’s possible that she’s had ties with Talon a lot longer than people assumed? Yeah. Do I think she did what she did, in Venice and past that (and hell, ever since she started working for Gabriel) with the express goal to fuck Gabriel over and indoctrinate him into Talon? Fuck no.

See, that’s taking the easy route, and disregards the idea, again, that people are layered and don’t have to be 100% good or evil to do good or evil things. 

One thing that’s very clear when it comes to Moira and her ethics is that above all, she values knowledge. She lives for her research: she cares very little about reputation, or ‘proper etiquette’, if they inhibit scientific breakthroughs. She will work for Oasis or Blackwatch just as easily as she will for Talon because they fund her, let her to her research. 

Part of her research was related to Gabriel, and if not fixing him, then at least helping his condition improve. She might be snarky about it, you might not like her attitude, but I do believe that she worked to improve him, not to his detriment.

Imagine being in her shoes and failing to do what you set out to do. One of her biggest projects died (or so the world thought) so when he turns up again, against all hope, would she really be disappointed? Hell no! Of course she’s going to pick up where they left off.

But there is Gabriel’s autonomy to take into account, too. To say ‘Moira fucked him up and he’s innocent’ takes him out of his own story and makes his own choices irrelevant when they very much aren’t. Whether it was good or not, smart or not, ethical or not, he (or at least my incarnation of him, and I choose to believe his canon story is at least a little nuanced too) chose to continue working with her.

I think he was pissed when he figured out that Moira had ties to Talon. I also believe that he still doesn’t trust her entirely. I also believe that he still chooses to work with her, and more importantly, let her work on him and his condition, because even if their ideals don’t align 100%, they still have something to offer to one another.

Now of course, headcanons are very personal. I’m so not about judging people who see it differently. But I think their relationship is infinitely complex and interesting because of that. Making Moira entirely emotionless and evil is a detriment to her character, just like it doesn’t do Gabriel’s story justice to say that he’s a boring, one-dimensional villain now.

There is a tendency to want a scapegoat, because it’s easier that way. I see it when people see nothing in Jack but a racist asshole, nothing in Gabe but a psychopath, nothing in Moira but an evil scientist. They are so much more than that. That’s what makes them so cool.

[intim3ate]

McAshe would make for a really good pining fic! Like ash understood why McCree was leaving, to protect the gang. But she spent like 15 years pining for him. Then when Blackwatch fell she was so excited he could come back to her, but he never did. That was when she tore up the photo and became so bitter. But she hunts down McCree and when they're finally face to face she breaks down and admits all she ever wanted was for him to come back to her. Then cue happy ending I guess XD (reunion sex?)

AO3 Link | Commission Info | Buy me a Ko-Fi? 

 She waited a long time for him to come home.

Twelve years, in fact. Almost thirteen now. Twelve years since he’d been picked up and plucked from his home. From Deadlock. From her. She knew where he was, what he was doing. Those Overwatch assholes may have been able to take him away from them, from his family, but they wouldn’t be able to break him. He was Deadlock, through and through. 

When she saw the headlines - the pictures - she knew. “Blackwatch Suspended,” right over a photo of Jesse McCree and the son of a bitch that took him from her. He was coming home. He had to, now he was out of a job.

But he never came. 

Two more years passed, and nothing. Not even a letter. She saw more headlines, sure: “Blackwatch Violates Suspension.” “Blackwatch Under Scrutiny After Complaint From Japanese Government.” “Morrison Under Fire: Blackwatch Still Active.” But they meant nothing to her. They were just a constant, bitter reminder that McCree hadn’t come home yet. That he couldn’t come home, she told herself. 

But then the explosion happened. Those sons of bitches got what was coming to ‘em - their HQ blew up and they were shut down for good. Overwatch, Blackwatch, the whole damn thing. He was free. He was coming home. 

… But he didn’t.

McCree never showed up. Not a month after the explosion, and not a year. Ashe tore up the photo she had on her bike - just another reminder of what she’d had, and what she couldn’t keep. 

She wondered if he was dead more than once. But no - nearly two years after Overwatch went under, she caught sight of a brand-new wanted poster. And though his hair was overgrown and his beard untamed, there was no mistaking who it was on the poster. 

Ashe had torn the poster of McCree from the board it was pinned to, brought it home, and clutched it tight in one hand while the other furiously worked between her legs. 

When she was done, angry and spent and more frustrated than ever, Ashe set fire to the poster. It crumpled and crackled as it went up in flames, burning behind her as she kicked off on her bike and set off on the highway.

Jesse McCree was alive. And he was still out there.

And Ashe was tired of waiting.

So she did what she always did when she didn’t get her way: she took matters into her own hands. She worked tirelessly to track him down. She called in every favour she had. She ran Bob ragged. And finally, she found him. 

He was in a dinky little bar right on the border of Arizona and California, holed up in a corner booth wrapped in a serape with the brim of his stetson pulled low over his eyes. She could hardly see his face, but she’d know the cut of that jaw anywhere. She’d spent hours fantasizing about running her fingers along it, tracing over the rough beginnings of the beard he’d sworn he was gonna grow out. 

He must have heard her coming, because when she was a few feet from him McCree looked up, much more alert than the three empty glasses on the table would suggest. 

He stood up. She smirked. 

They found a cheap motel room. McCree said nothing, and Ashe didn’t trust herself to speak. She dragged him into the room and slammed him up against the wall, shoving herself onto him and pressing her lips to his. It was clumsier than she’d pictured, rougher and more desperate. But he tasted just as good, sweet whiskey lingering on his lips. 

They fucked fast. Impatient. Ashe had waited nearly two decades for this, and she wasn’t going to wait another minute. And McCree was just as rushed, just as frantic; he fucked up into her like he hadn’t been laid in months. Maybe he hadn’t. A good chunk of Ashe hoped he hadn’t - it’d serve him right for keeping her waiting. 

When they were done, they lay flat on their backs, naked and sweaty and cold above the sheets. They smoked: McCree a cheap cigar, Ashe her favourite brand of cigarette. 

“Come home with me,” she said. 

“Sure,” McCree said. His lips quirked up in a smile as he puffed on his cigar, but Ashe wouldn’t realize until later that he hadn’t been able to meet her eye. Not until the next morning, when McCree was already long gone. When Ashe was left to wake up alone in a cold, empty bed.

[solivar]

Rattling my tip jar again. This past month and change has been an absolute storm of financial hits. Any donation of any kind will get a ficlet, just message me here.

Also, for your edification: the start of something I was planning to finish before I posted but which you’ll see first now in thanks for your past and present support.

Code Talker:  D Is For Deadlock or Possibly Ah-Da-Ah-Ho-Dzah

It began, as many things involving Overwatch ultimately did, with an anonymous text message dropped in a tipline mailbox (“IF YOU SEE SOMETHING, SAY SOMETHING,” the rallying cry of Homeland Security since at least the mid-Oughts, weaponizing the paranoia of random citizens being a thing that never truly went out of style). It ended, as did many things that eventually came to involve Blackwatch, with small arms fire and carefully orchestrated explosions and interrogation rooms under places not formally known as prisons. In between, there was a mystery.

And if there was anything that Commander Gabriel Reyes absolutely could not resist, it was a mystery. Particularly when the alternative was paperwork.

⧫

“A secretary.”

Gabriel did not look up from the screen he was perusing, primarily because he didn’t want to have to either see or acknowledge the look of supreme despair that he knew would be living on his commanding officer’s face at that moment. “What about him? And it’s ‘administrative aide.’ Get with the proper terminology, Commander.”

“Wait, you actually have one?” That sounded more incredulous than actively despairing and so he chanced a look and found Jack Morrison, Commander of Overwatch, staring at him with unvarnished astonishment naked on his face. Admittedly, the astonishment might have had more to do with the fact that every available horizontal surface in his office was covered in the neatly, precisely arranged by both chronological order and grade of importance stacks of hardcopy and their accompanying workpads that represented eight full months of only dubiously attended paperwork than it did with his actual possession of a administrative aide. Or a secretary. Either/or. “Where is she?”

“Right now?” Gabriel checked the schedule. “Down in the range improving his service pistol marksmanship qualifications to at least expert.”

“...Really. Really, Gabe.” Now there was the absolute despair he had grown to know and love. “Is the kid even field rated? Does he have to be in order to successfully serve as your s -- administrative aide?”

“He will be by the time I’m done with him.” Gabriel replied, evenly, and finished signing off on his segment of a report that might or might not have involved highly sensitive operations currently underway beneath the Ross ice shelf in Antarctica. “And he will also be perfectly competent to put a bullet or two in anybody who tries to walk into or out of this office with something they ought not to be carrying. Or anyone else’s office, once he gets tired of working for me and runs screaming into the night. It’s an all-around win for the organization.”

“You remain the world’s most dedicated troll. I love you, but it’s true.” Jack lifted a stack of something that probably constituted only dubiously actionable intel given its relative proximity to his desk, deposited it neatly on the floor, and pushed the hoverchair previously occupied over, handed a tablet across the desk to take the place of the one he’d just set aside. “I probably shouldn’t distract you from bringing joy to the hearts of filing clerks all over the northern hemisphere but I really think I need to read you in on this one.”

“Do tell.” Gabriel made some space on his desk by virtue of piling three things he absolutely did not want to deal with just then together, opening a drawer, and dropping them inside, where they would molder at least until his aide got back from the firing range.

Jack tapped the pad pointedly. “Two weeks ago, someone texted that to the US Department of Homeland Security office in Santa Fe, New Mexico. The tipline mailbox.”

Gabriel inclined a single, are you fucking with me brow and thumbed the tablet open. The message was a precisely arranged block of alphanumeric text followed by twenty pages of increasingly baffled and irritated memos back and forth between the DHS field office, DHS HQ in DC, and, finally, the Overwatch field office just down the hall and three floors up. He paged through them, eyebrows migrating steadily in the direction of his hairline as he went and, when he was finished, he muttered aloud. “What the actual fuck?”

“Cryptanalysis tends to agree with the assessment that it’s a cipher of some kind -- the original thought was a relatively basic transposition variant. The frequency analysis suggested as much. But when they tried to decrypt it on the basis of that theory, not a single attempt produced a readable result.” A wry little smile. “Athena’s been running cipher tables for days and getting nothing.”

“So why exactly are we thinking this is something worth cracking and not just some intensely bored computer science nerd idly trolling the local DHS office?” He could see why they’d thought in that direction, as a part of his brain started working out the math and the transposition modifiers and, even then, saw exactly why it wouldn’t work.

“Because whoever sent the initial message sent it again -- three times in the last three days, a secured line that comprehensively defeated any attempt to trace it back to its source. I know, I know. It doesn’t sound like a particularly good argument in favor of this not being an elaborate snipe hunt to me, either.” He reached over and tapped the screen, pulled up a secondary file. “But the Agent in Charge of the Santa Fe office thinks otherwise -- said they had a similar attempt at communication early last year but the message got fumbled and now she’s wondering if it didn’t have something to do with an incident that went down out in the badlands wilderness area.”

Gabriel disengaged himself from his consideration of the puzzle with an almost physical effort. “What kind of incident?”

“A team of geoscience grad students from California found a mass grave full of relatively fresh corpses, ten in total. Local law enforcement took over and, upon investigating the site, found that the bodies were all members of La Muerte Roja, a local gang known for having not particularly cordial relations with another local gang -- “

“Let me guess! Deadlock.”

“In one. The AiC, Julia Alvarez, thinks someone was trying to tip them off on the location -- either of the grave, or whatever it was that caused those fine upstanding individuals to find their way into it.” A pause. “Admittedly, I’m not so sure I buy that, either. But, since Deadlock pinged the radar recently, I thought it might be worth investigating, if only to rule out the possibility.”

“The possibility that someone is trying to pass coded messages about Deadlock activity to the Department of Homeland Security.” Gabriel’s eyes slid, involuntarily, back to the screen.

“It sounds even stupider when you say it out loud.”

“It’s not stupid. Or at least not stupider than anything else it could possibly be.” He glanced up. “Is that an order, Strike Commander?”

“If you want it to be, Commander Reyes.” Jack stood up, and deposited a fresh stack of paperwork in front of him. “Far be it from me to interfere in any of your more pressing duties.”

Gabriel grinned up at him. “Asshole.”

“Slacker. Get to work.”

⧫

To give the actually and legitimately more pressing duties the full and undivided attention they deserved, he stuck the pad in the desk drawer that contained his current cross-stitch project, a random selection of knitting needles, sixteen legal pads full of random sketches, and every fiddle toy ever gifted to him by the rest of the Overwatch command staff, some of which he occasionally even used. Then he locked it, once the estimable young Master Kestenholz returned from the firing range still smelling slightly of cordite, so as to better concentrate on the things that really required his attention at that very moment. And for at least a handful of hours he was able to firmly push it out of his mind while they rediscovered what the top of his desk and the storage credenza looked like which, considering the sheer volume of crap that needed to be signed, sent, and subsequently filed, he thought was a perfectly adequate day’s work.

“Are you certain, Commander?” And he was so damn young and earnest as he said it, too, all industrious diligence with shining golden curls and huge blue eyes and a charming Swiss accent and Gabriel was briefly convinced that this kid had obviously been vat-grown and programmed specifically to act as his adjunct administrative functions conscience. “It’s only six.”

“Yes, I’m sure -- and you say that now but give it two months.” He grinned and waved off the ensuing objections. “Go home, Kestenholz. And I don’t want to see your face before 0900 tomorrow.”

Which gave him approximately fifteen hours to work on the really classified stuff occupying the futon in the corner, to which he applied a solid six before the itch in the back of his skull grew too insistent to ignore. The rest went into the blastproof, bulletproof storage locker for later and the irresistible puzzle-bearing tablet came out. “Athena.”

The holoscreen occupying the corner of his desk activated itself, displaying Athena’s stylized personal signifier icon, and her voice issued melodiously from the hidden speakers. “Yes, Commander Reyes?”

“May I see the transposition tables you prepared for this communication?” He sent the files to his personal workstation and opened them all in a fan spread alongside the main display, upon which Athena kindly pulled up the decryption attempts she’d prepared. “Thank you. Now...why do you look so familiar?”

And it was familiar, aggravatingly so, mostly because the reason for it danced mockingly just out of reach. It did so for the rest of the night, not a bit of which was spent sacked out on the now-accessible futon, and at breakfast, when he strolled into the officers’ mess with a fresh legal pad covered in scribbles for his first coffee and five thousand calories for the day, and continued itching relentlessly through the remainder of the morning, even as he reviewed paperwork and signed off on reports and piled physical documents to be archived into the arms of his exceedingly cheerful aide.  The bulk of the stuff that Kestenholz could have access to at his current security rating was sitting on a hovercart by just after thirteen hundred, leaving only the still-locked case he’d have to shoot the kid over and two greatly reduced piles of barely-qualifying-as-intel and the small part of his brain currently paying no attention whatsoever to any of it was forcefully dragging the rest away.

“Kestenholz, go and hand that off to Archives, take lunch, and -- “ He pulled up the daily schedule, made an amendment, “go hit the range. We’ll deal with the rest of this after you’ve had the chance to let your arms uncramp.”

“I am feeling a bit peckish.” Kestenholz admitted, with the same unflagging good cheer he’d had on display upon arrival that morning, and Gabriel made a mental note to seriously find out the provenance of that kid and, even if it was an amiable Swiss cloning facility, to write a formal letter of commendation both for his can-do attitude, his ability to keep pace, and his borderline saintly tolerance for terrible paperwork discipline from senior officers. “Would you like me to have the commissary send anything up?”

“Thank you, no. I’ll get something later.” His fingers twitched with the urge to open that file again. “Dismissed, Mr. Kestenholz. Eat a strudel for me.”

Two hours later, he was still gazing, eyes half-focused, at the screens spread out in the air before him, on which six different attempts to decrypt the message according to six separate and distinct methods had produced six different kinds of total gibberish. “I should send you over to Analysis and see what Icebreaker and his pale computer larvae can come up with…”

“Are you talking to me?” The voice was warm, richly amused, and came from the door; he looked over the top of the screen he was currently perusing and found Ana standing there, fist still raised from the knock that he hadn’t heard.

“To myself mostly. What can I do for you?” He rotated the non-solution solution sitting in front of him and spun it, nettled beyond endurance by its ongoing refusal to make sense.

“Oh, nothing really.” Stepped in, closed the door behind her. “It’s just my turn to remind you to eat.”

“I’ve had breakfast. A gigantic breakfast, I assure you, but thank you for your concern.” He laced his fingers together and gave her a Look overtop them; she was not noticeably intimidated.

“It’s fifteen hundred hours, Gabriel.” The gentlest of all possible reproof in her tone. “And it’s also my turn to remind you to sleep.” She came all the way around and very deliberately sat on the edge of his desk, blocking a set of screens from easy view. “You have been sleeping, yes?”

“...For certain values of ‘sleeping.’” Gabriel hedged and turned to face her. “I caught some rest the other day.”

“Which other day? Because it’s Wednesday. And, frankly,” Ana leaned in and smiled beneficently down at him, “you don’t look like you’ve been sleeping. At all.”

“Blame this.” He flicked the screen again and watched its contents spin. “It came in through DHS yesterday afternoon and it’s been eating my goddamned brain.”

Ana caught the edge of the display, considered, and frowned deeply. “A substitution code of some kind?”

“That’s what frequency analysis suggests -- the AiC who sent it seems to think it has something to do with gang-related activity in the southwestern badlands, but nothing I’ve done to spindle, fold, or mutilate it has yielded a coherent message. Not in English, not in Spanish.” He poked the screen again a bit more vengefully. “Even with the Latin alphabet I’m not sure….” It clicked together in his mind. “It’s a Latin alphabet. But it’s not made up of Latin phonemes. There’s more than twenty-six letters, that’s why a standard modular solution doesn’t work.”

“Gabriel?” Ana blinked at him as he stood up, took her gently but firmly by the elbow, and steered her back out the door. “Are you -- “

“Ana, I love you dearly, but get out. I almost have this.” He closed the door, also firmly but gently, in her face.

“I am having food sent up, Gabriel!” Ana shouted, kindly, from the hallway. “And if Athena tells me you haven’t gone back to your quarters by twenty-one hundred I am coming back with my rifle and a tranquilizer dart.”

“You do what you have to do, Ana!” He called back and got to work.

Four hours later, he activated his comm, requested a secure line to the Strike Commander’s office, and waited patiently while it went through. “Gabe?”

“Well, I’m going to tell you right now that the Agent in Charge there in Santa Fe might have been onto something about that earlier message, Jack.” Gabriel replied, by way of greeting. “And she’s completely right about this one.”

“You cracked it?” A pause. “How long have you been working on this? Jesus, Gabe. Have you even slept?”

“Look, I’ll sleep when I’m dead, okay?” He punched open a secure data connection and sent over what he’d found. “Also: whoever sent this is either a math genius, a historian, a linguist, or some combination of thereof. Take a look.”

The line was silent for some moments as Jack opened the file and examined it. “What language is that? I’ve never seen anything like that before.”

“It’s Navajo. Diné bizaad. The frequency analysis was pinging on the fact that the written language uses a modified Latin alphabet -- but with thirty-six letters instead of twenty-six, which threw any modular mathematical attempt to decipher it off by a factor of ten. It is a relatively simple monoalphabetic substitution cipher, at base.” Gabriel leaned back in his chair. “It’s the translation, in this case, that’s interesting.”

“You’re enjoying this entirely too much.” Jack informed him and he had to allow there was a certain amount of truth to that.

“The message was: Want to help. Text this number when this message is received.”

“...You already texted it, haven’t you.” It wasn’t actually a question.

“I have! And I received a very interesting response, too.” He forwarded the rest of the information: message, translation, satellite overflight maps, preliminary analysis. “In brief: the coordinates translate to a place in the hills near where Alamogordo used to be before the Crisis. I requested any recent satellite overflight images, ran some historical comparisons against archival data, and I do believe what we’re looking at here is a man-made structure. More specifically, it’s a drop point of some kind. And that word, right there, is Deadlock.” He pulled up the video feed so he could watch the information filtering into Jack’s head. “This is me formally requesting permission to detail a Blackwatch operations team to investigate.”

“I never should have given this to you.” Jack looked up from the documentation. “You think there’s something actionable on this? We can spin the DHS field office in Santa Fe passing this along into a de facto request for intervention, if necessary, provided we keep it on the down-low -- Washington’s been getting pretty hissy about having all the legalities tucked neatly in order before they’ll sign off on our involvement in domestic law enforcement issues.”

“The Central American Collective has already formally requested intervention on the issue of cross-border contraband smuggling -- and if the smugglers, and the contraband, originate north of the border, that means the issue has passed domesticity and into our remit.” He laced his fingers together to keep them from fidgeting. “And, yes, I think it’s something. There are roads coming in and out of that place that are visible from orbit, which means they’re traveled semi-frequently. Someone in a position to know where it was reached out about it and the means they used to do so argued that they’re also in a position of risk as well as knowledge. I’m not suggesting we go in guns blazing, but putting some eyes on the situation couldn’t hurt.”

“All right. Pick your team. I’ll cut the orders -- observation only, for the time being. Agreed?”

“Agreed.”

[alexiela73]

Ok, I am so happy your open. If you feel inspired could you please write a continuation of mccree's story from your soul mate au genji/mute reader? I really want to hear the story behind his tattoo of "You damn asshole!" maybe he meets them after recall? when on the run? or even in blackwatch. :) Anything would be great, just trying to include some inspiring prompts :P

xD I honestly didn’t realize i’d left that one open as a side story but I’m kind of glad I did. I’d be happy to

Grumbling in irritation, Jesse kicked the rocks at his feet as he headed into Numbani, needing to get away from base for a bit. Right now the cowboy was tired and frustrated. Why couldn’t everyone just relax?

Things have just seemed a real mess around base really, with the arguing between Commander Morrison and Commander Reyes. They’re constant arguments and disagreements were starting to cause small rifts in the system that both Overwatch and Blackwatch had carefully crafted.

A system that had helped the two organizations, which were basically two sides of the same coin, work together as it should.

When it came down to business, people were afraid to speak to either of them. Morrison’s second in command, Ana Amari, has been taking as much weight off of Commander Morrison’s shoulders as possiblebut as a mother bearing many responsibilities in Overwatch, she could only handle so much. 

Jesse had just gotten back from a mission with Reyes, who was in a downright pissy mood. It had been a bust, and Jesse already knew what that meant for Reyes. Another excuse for Jack to fight with him.

It didn’t help that as McCree had gotten out of the helicopter, Commander Morrison had called Reyes to his office for a debriefing, using the coldest voice he’d ever heard. Reyes had snarled at Jesse to finish the last of the paperwork and stormed off. 

Now Jesse was left to go out to get a beer by himself, after finishing up the paperwork and growling to himself under his breath. Of course, he would have invited Genji but Genji had been quite busy as of late with his soulmate, who he miraculously found a few months ago.

Heading into the nearest bar, McCree glanced down at his arm where in fine italic letters it read, ‘You damn asshole!’. It even had the exclamation mark. Whatever it meant, Jesse figured that his first time meeting his soul mate would likely be a disaster of some sort. Figures, he thought to himself with a grunt.

Sitting down heavily at a stool at the counter, Jesse’s fingers brushed over the letters. Despite the impending trouble they implied, Jesse…hoped he’d find them soon. A soulmate meant the two were made for each other. They’re souls fit in a way that others didn’t, and it was a lifetime bond.

It meant a future full of love, and Jesse…wanted that. Despite his countless conquests, those were just men and women that Jesse had been attracted to. People who hadn’t found their soulmates and were up for a little naughty fun to pass the time. Jesse wondered what it’d be like to have more then that…

“Shut up, you little chicken shit,” he muttered to himself, and rubbed a hand down his face. “Its an obligation you don’t need, and besides…who the hell would be happy with you as a soulmate?” It was a thought he’d had since he was young, before he’d even been roped into Deadlocke.

What if he wasn’t a good soulmate? What if they realized he was too much trouble, that they couldn’t handle him? There were rare instances of soulmates growing to hate each other, and when that happened, sometimes the bond would become tainted with a loneliness that ate people from the insides out, until driven mad.

Shaking his head fiercely, Jesse took a deep breath. He needed to get his heard in the game, god damn it…. the place was full of pretty men and women and he needed to get his game on.

Spying the back of one person in particular passing by, he barely caught a glimpse of their face. And yet….

Turning halfway as they passed, McCree smirked and gave them a very firm, albeit sensual slap on the butt. Damn, he had a second or so to process, that ass if fine. Jesse was just turning around fully, opening his mouth to finish off the first move with a good pick up line when...

Bam. Something solid hit his groin and there was an intense jolt of pain as Jesse gasped, sliding from the stool to his knees on the floor. Whatever it was, it had hit hard and his poor jewels suffered heavily, as much as the rest did. 

“Holy cheese and crackers!” he gasped, his hands both holding his groin, partly in reaction to the pain and mostly in case another attack ensued.

“You damn asshole!!!” snarled what might have been the loveliest voice he’d ever heard in his life, and managed to glance up to see you standing there, looking outraged as you rubbed your hand. “How dare you touch me without my- wait, what did you say?”

Jesse struggled for a moment, as his mind was torn between the pain between his thighs, the yelling and how gorgeous your eyes were when lit with rage. It sounded terrible, but he was positive you were the most exquisite creature he’d ever had the honor of seeing. Even if you did just punch his groin.

“I....you..,” It was taking Jesse a lot longer then you to actually relay what just occurred through his mind and see what you were seeing. “I...um...cheese and...crackers..” The words had spilled out on impulse, though for once it hadn’t been curses he’d let loose.

There was a moment of silence as you glared down at him, where Jesse remained on his knees debating on why, suddenly, the fact that you’d just punched him was so incredibly hot.

“Damn it,” you muttered after a moment, brushing a hand through your hair. “Fuck. Serves me write for having a pervert for...”

Blinking slowly, it finally occurred. 

“You said...oh shit,” Jesse said, looking down at the words on his arm and then back at you. Glancing at both your arms, he saw the words wrapped finely around your wrist. “We’re...”

‘Holy cheese and crackers’....he couldn’t believe that destiny had forced that to be his first words to you. It’s like life was laughing at him. 

“Yes. Yes we are,” you said tightly, crossing your arms and narrowing your eyes at him. “And let me tell you, your first impression is literally crap. How dare you, you filthy slime ball. What gives you the right to-”

“I’m sorry,” Jesse cut in, heat starting to climb into his cheeks a bit as he got to his feet. He’d been trying to find a one night stand to make himself feel better, to take his mind off his own self pity and the problems and loneliness plaguing him...and in turn, he’d really messed up his first encounter with you.

Putting your hands on your hips, it was clear you didn’t forgive him. “You should be ashamed of yourself. Do you think that-” you cut yourself off as his eyes dropped down to the floor.

The man before you....he had pretty brown eyes with flecks of gold. He was handsome, you’d give him that. But he also looked incredibly tired and... defeated. At the sight, a wave of sympathy rose through you...and you struggled to squelch it down. The bastard had... oh, damn that sad face.

As much as you wanted to scold him and skin him alive, you also really just wanted to give him a hug. This wasn’t what you were expecting today by coming to the bar. Like most people, you really didn’t expect to meet your soulmate at all....you had just wanted a drink while working on your university papers.

But now that you’d found him, despite his...mistake...you supposed that you could at least give him a chance to redeem himself. Surely there was something about him that the world had seen was right for you.

“....Don’t ever touch someone’s butt, or any other part of them, without permission ever again,” you said seriously, though your voice had softened a bit.

Glancing up at you, Jesse hesitated, before giving you one of those heart breaking smiles. You could see that you’d won yourself one of those men who often broke hearts and left swooning women in their wakes. 

“I really am sorry about that, darlin’. I know it isn’t right, but....” Jesse didn’t have a good excuse.

“You thought I was a prostitute,” you said calmly, and his face was all the confirmation you needed. “Don’t get upset. A lot of people come to a bar to either drink or sleep around. I get it. From your face, you look like you’re hiding from some issues,” you continued.

Jesse was left speechless, slowly sitting back on his barstool and honestly, neither of you noticed really as you joined him there at the counter. It was just so natural, so easy to sit there and speak. And even while angry at him, a certain part of you knew him....knew he was a good man. Even if you didn’t really know him.

“I kind of am, ya...,” Jesse admitted and then sighed. “Look...I already fucked up my first five seconds with you. I don’t expect you’ll want to be around me much, if at all. I can leave you alone, if that's what you want. I come with problems, and I wont let them weigh on you too.”

And perhaps it was hearing that that finally gave you your first real impression of the man, other then that he was touchy with his hands. He was the kind of man who kept his problems to himself to save other people from suffering with him. And that's all you needed to hear to make your decision.

“I’m Y/n L/n,” you said after a moment, holding out your hand to him.

There was a moment of Jesse looking between you and your hand. “I...I’m Jesse McCree,” he said after a moment, shaking your hand. “Pleasure to meet you, buttercup.”

Unable to help the small smile that rose to your lips when he called you buttercup, you ordered two whiskeys. “To second impressions,” you said, lifting your glass for a toast.

“To soulmates,” he said, his eyes boring into yours and he clinked his glass against yours.

And that was the beginning of a very interesting relationship.

[overwatchworks]

The Boy With the Emerald Hair:

Part 6 of Mcgenji AU. Final chapter!

“Ah...Didn’t think they’d be here...” Genji murmured under his breath, eyeing the group of people huddled around an arcade game towards the back of the room. Jesse recognized the lot of them as Genji’s group of friends he used to hang out with, and his boyfriend grimaced when Suki glanced in their direction.

‘Oh my god! The missing prince finally shows his face again! We thought you’d forgotten about us Genji.’ She gasped, quickly walking over with that particular sway of her hips, manicured nails placed delicately over her mouth in almost false surprise.

‘Hey...Suki. Hey guys.’ Genji responded half-heartedly, Suki giving a dirty look towards Jesse.

‘Have you seriously been hanging out with this guy all this time?’ She asked, a note of venomous sarcasm twinging her tone and souring her expression.

‘Yeah, what’s it to you?’

‘Oh come on Gen, he’s kind of a loser. I mean, seriously? A cowboy hat?’

‘And yet it caught your eye.’ Jesse chimed with a wink, Suki scoffing and crossing her arms over her chest.

‘Kind of hard not to. Anyways, we’re hitting the club tonight, you should totally join us. I’ve...Well, I’ve missed you Genji.’ Suki purred, biting her glossy bottom lip with perfect white teeth, and Jesse suppressed a smile.

‘Yeah, uh, about that...’ Genji started, stepping away from Suki slightly and addressing all his friends.

‘I’m not gonna go. Not anymore.’

Jesse looked at Genji in surprise, though he kept his face neutral, staying back but keeping a sure presence for Genji to lean on.

‘What? Why not?!’ One of the guys burst out, another staring accusingly at Jesse.

‘It’s his fault, isn’t it? Ever since you started hanging out with that guy, you’ve been acting fucking weird! You’re seriously going to let some tourist fuck you up?’

‘He hung out with us once, and he’s not even handsome like you normally go after!’

‘Yeah, he’s not special at all, just some guy wanting to get down your pants, and you’re letting him get away with this shit!’

‘You can’t just disappear on us like this, that’s so not cool!’ They all exclaimed at once, Genji’s form tensing and eyes hardening, flashing a brilliant green for just a second as he glared at them.

‘Excuse me?! His name is Jesse, and he’s not just some loser tourist, he happens to be my boyfriend! And he’s also been the only good fucking influence in my life in years! The only ones who have been fucking me up are you guys! You don’t give a shit about me, only my money and my looks, if even that! You guys are all shallow jerks and I know you were just using me to get whatever the hell you wanted, so don’t start acting like you have the moral high ground here! Jesse’s the only one who hasn’t forced me to make decisions I regret, to go with someone on a dare while I’m wasted and not thinking so you can have a laugh!’ 

‘And for the record, not a single one of you has respected me as more than a sex toy or your ticket to something fancy because I’m rich, and there isn’t anyone of you here who hasn’t tried to get down my pants either! So don’t you dare try and pull that shit on me, or on Jesse! I know I haven’t been any different, but that’s changed now, I recognize my mistakes and I want to make things better. Now, I want you all to leave, and I want you to never come around me again. You all are the shittiest people ever, and I want you out of my life for good.’ Genji growled, hands balled into fists. Everyone stared in a stunned silence, then Suki tried to take a step forward.

‘Genji—‘

Genji made a move towards her, his hand snaking out so fast Jesse only saw it when it was on her shirt collar and pulling her close.

‘Do I make myself clear?’ He demanded, voice dangerously low, Jesse recognizing the threat and feeling the power Genji held even from where he was standing. Suki nodded, Genji letting go and jerking his head towards the door.

‘Good. Now get the hell out of here.’

The group practically ran out of the arcade, Jesse crossing his arms over his chest and whistling when the door shut. There was cheering from the upper level of the arcade, Jesse and Genji’s heads whipping up to find Daisuke leaning over the railing and clapping.

“Yeah-ha! Go Genji! Show them who’s boss!”

Genji grinned, letting out a breath and running a hand through his hair.

“That was...Good. That felt really, really good! Dai?”

“That’s me.”

“Sorry for being such a stuck up asshole to you, I know I really sucked.”

“Yeah, you did, but that totally made up for it. Fucking awesome!”

“I swear it’ll never happen again. So...We okay?”

“Yeah, we’re chill.” Daisuke shrugged, leaning his forearms against the railing and grinning down at them.

“Well alright then! Today’s been really awesome so far!”

Jesse grinned when Genji turned to him, a big smile lighting up his face as he took his hand and led him out of the arcade. Genji went giggling down the sidewalk, then pushed Jesse down an alleyway.

“I can’t believe I did that! Oh my god it’s such a relief! Like, I always knew they were horrible, but now that they’re gone it’s...God it’s nice!” Genji sighed, wrapping his arms around Jesse’s shoulders.

“I wouldn’t have been able to do it without you. I thought I needed them to feel accepted, but you’ve kinda just blown me away with how good you’ve been to me. You’ve shown me how it feels to be respected and liked for who I am, and I just...Thank you Jesse.” Genji murmured against his lips, Jesse gazing at him and finding those gorgeous umber eyes on him, so full of warmth and joy. 

And that’s when Jesse knew he was completely and utterly fucked. 

He pressed his lips against Genji’s, kissing him passionately and feverish, fully accepting his fate and how downright in love with this man he was. Genji slid his lips over Jesse’s, making pleased little noises into the kiss and pressing his whole body closer.

"Jesse, we should run away together!" Genji suddenly giggled into his mouth, tone obviously teasing and giddy, the both of them high on the thrill of the moment. Jesse chuckled lowly, kissing Genji deeply before replying.

"Heh, yeah right, the lives we live darlin'? Good luck with that." He murmured, though what Genji said struck a chord in him. Jesse wondered briefly what he wouldn’t give to live this kind of life forever as he leaned into Genji’s mouth fervently. 

How nice it would be not having to report this to Reyes every night, to be reminded that he was only here because Overwatch wanted to take down Genji’s family, and Genji was the key to making it happen. He was using Genji just as much as anyone else. He was no better than they were. It hit him all of a sudden, so unbidden and disheartening, those feelings and worries, sitting in his stomach like lead and ruining the moment he had been so enjoying. He felt a little sick, guilt gnawing at him now, and it must have bled through to his actions, for Genji slowed his eager kisses.

“Jesse...? Is something wrong?” Genji whispered, breaking off the kiss and staring at the cowboy seriously, breathing just a bit heavy.

“I just...Gen, ya mean a lot ta me, more than I ever thought ya would. An’ I guess it worries me, yanno? I wanna be honest with ya, an’ I wanna be good ta ya, ‘cause ya deserve it. But I dunno if I can do it all...”

“Jesse...?”

Jesse stared down at Genji’s lips for a long moment, just so he wouldn’t have to meet those eyes, so open and sincere. He sighed deeply, then tried for a smile.

“Sorry, it’s nothin’. Just...I worry I ain’t gonna be good enough fer ya. That I ain’t the guy ya deserve. I’ve fucked up a buncha things in the past, an’ I don’t want this ta be somethin’ I gotta add ta that list. I don’t wanna hurt ya...” Jesse whispered, Genji gently taking his face in his hands, the pads of his fingers rubbing gentle circles under his eyes.

“Jesse, what are you talking about? You don’t have to worry, didn’t you hear what I just told you? You have made my life so much more enjoyable and worthwile, and I’m not afraid to say it. I know you aren’t going to hurt me, and you are so good to me, better than anyone else has been before. I’ve been known to do some shitty stuff, and I’ve got some fucked up things worrying me too. So if anything, I’m not the guy you deserve.”

“Tch, don’t go sayin’ that. It couldn’t be farther from the truth.” Jesse scoffed, pressing their foreheads together and sighing softly. He just wished everything could have been different, at least for this. But it wasn’t. So he would have to make the best of it while it lasted.  

“Here, why don’t we get some lunch, that’ll take your mind off of what’s bothering you. And I’ll pay since it’s been a good day!” Genji offered, Jesse letting out a breath and giving him a lopsided grin.

“Yeah, sounds good darlin’. Thanks.”

“Alright, come on then! I wanna try something distinctly American today. There’s this burger place a few blocks away that’s apparently pretty good, but I need to know from you to make sure.”

“Lead the way then.” Jesse said, motioning with his hand towards the road. 

Genji kissed his cheek and looped his arm through the cowboy’s, taking off down the sidewalk. Jesse followed after him, watching the gentle sway of Genji’s steps and the excitement he showed just because he was walking around town with Jesse on his arm. He never would have thought he could have enjoyed something like this in his life, and he really began to contemplate Genji’s joking statement. 

There was no way he could leave Blackwatch, but perhaps Genji could leave the Shimada clan and come back with him. Maybe. A wild thought of him convincing Genji to join Blackwatch and help them so he could be free suddenly invaded his mind, but Jesse shook it off. No way could he do that, Reyes would kill him. Still, Jesse tucked the thought away for later, tuning in to Genji, who was jabbering about something that had to do with french fries.

“They come curly too, don’t they? Like, why the hell do you need so many weird potato strips? It’s a fucking potato, how good can it get?”

Jesse laughed, Genji turning his head a bit and grinning when he caught the cowboy’s eye.

“I couldn’t tell ya darlin’. I guess we like variety in our foods.” Jesse shrugged, Genji leaning against him and huffing.

“I suppose it’s better than being stuck with one boring thing all the time.”

Jesse wrapped his arm around Genji’s waist, pulling him closer and pecking his forehead.

“Yeah. Yer not borin’ though.”

“Good to know. And neither are you Jesse. I’m perfectly happy with just you.”

“Hon, ya keep shootin’ my heart like that, there won’t be enough left fer me ta give ya.” Jesse teased, Genji sticking out his tongue and making a face.

“Eewwww sappy!”

“Ya love it.”

“Yeah, I kind of do.”

--

Two months had passed since Jesse had been with Genji, and they both spent almost all that time with one another. Genji practically lived with him now, coming over every other night and sleeping at the apartment when he could, sometimes spending the whole day next to Jesse in town or relaxing at home. Which was strange for Jesse. He’d never thought he could find another place he could comfortably call “home”, but it seemed Genji had that effect on him. 

His favourite part of the day was waking up next to Genji. He always woke up first, Genji being a heavy sleeper and a bit of a night owl anyways. It didn’t matter what they did the night before, whether it was drinks, a movie, sex, just cuddling, any of it, Genji was always out cold by the end of it. But it gave Jesse a chance to just look at his boyfriend in the morning, how peaceful and beautiful he was, how cute he looked when he stretched and yawned as he started to wake up, his nose scrunching up slightly before snuggling back up against Jesse’s warmth.

It was calming, and Jesse would just kiss him lightly or run his hand through those mussed emerald locks until Genji’s gorgeous umber eyes opened. He was always given a smile, and Jesse always gave one back. It felt so normal and right, and Jesse didn’t know what he was going to do without it. 

The theme of running away together popped up more often than not anymore; sometimes after a nice lunch in town, others while they were curled on the couch together, whispered in the dead of night when one of them woke from a nightmare, promised to one another when they talked on the balcony as the sun rose in brilliant pinks and oranges. Jesse had started to believe it, and he wanted more than anything to have Genji with him when the mission inevitably ended and he had to return to Switzerland. Jesse sighed, blinking back to reality from his thoughts when Genji poked him lightly, the Shimada sprawled over his whole body.

“Heeeeeeey. You’re lost in thought again. You sure you’re okay? It’s been happening a lot lately.” Genji told him, chin resting on his bare chest and legs coming up to kick in the air over his back. Jesse nodded and wrapped his arms around Genji’s lower back, thumbs rubbing absent patterns.

“‘M sorry hon. I don’t mean ta zone out like that.”

“I mean, we could always go another round if you want. That may help.”

“Yer gonna kill me at this rate Gen.”

“What can I say? I have great stamina.”

Jesse huffed a laugh, Genji scooting himself up so that he hovered over the cowboy now.

“You’re not telling me something.”

“Imma be honest Genji, there’s a lot of somethin’s I ain’t tellin’ ya.” Jesse sighed, Genji taking his face in his palms gently when he tried to look away.

“I know that. And I understand. But this is something involving me, isn’t it?”

Jesse swallowed, closing his eyes and putting his hands over Genji’s, pulling them down to clutch them on his collarbone.

“I’m just thinkin’...What if...Yanno, ya actually run away with me?”

“What?”

“If...If I could give ya an opportunity, would ya take it an’ come with me?” Jesse asked cautiously, Genji’s brows furrowing and lips parting slightly.

“I...You could actually get me away from here...?”

“If ya could, would ya?” Jesse merely repeated, Genji sitting back more as his eyes drifted to the side.

“I can’t...I can’t leave Hanzo. I can’t just leave him behind, no matter how much I want to get away from here...” Genji murmured, Jesse taking his chin between his thumb and forefinger.

“Hey, I don’t wanna pressure ya or nothin’. I was just thinkin’...Maybe there was a way we could.”

“Jesse, don’t get me wrong, I absolutely would. I would in a heartbeat. But there are things here that...People that I can’t leave without. It would be unfair to them.” Genji sighed, Jesse humming softly.

“I get it hon. Just...Think ‘bout it, okay? I wouldn’t mind takin’ Hanzo either.”

“I just don’t know if he wants the same...”

“It’s okay Gen. Don’t worry ‘bout it. ‘M sorry I brought it up.”

“No Jesse, I’d love to. You’ve made my life worth living lately, there’s no way I could say no to an offer like that from you. I just...I’d need some time.” Genji whispered after a prolonged moment of silence, Jesse hugging him tighter.

“That’s fine Gen. Ya just mean so much ta me, I figured I’d offer. It’d be a long shot, but I think we could make it work.”

“It’d be a dream come true.”

Jesse agreed with him quietly, then let the silence speak for itself in the moment. They didn’t need words to understand one another’s thoughts, their wants and dreams of freedom together. Jesse ran his hand through Genji’s hair, the Shimada nuzzling under his neck and closing his eyes. They laid there for a good ten minutes, dozing off with only their soft breaths to punctuate the quiet of the bedroom.

“Jess...?”

“Yeah?”

“I have to go soon, but can we meet up for drinks tonight?” Genji asked after another moment, Jesse nodding.

“‘Course we can. What time were ya thinkin’?”

“Maybe seven-thirty, eightish?”

“Sounds good hon.” Jesse hummed, Genji sitting up reluctantly and making the cowboy grunt in displeasure.

“Where’re ya goin’...?”

“I told you, I have to go home. Not that I want to, but I’ll see you again tonight. I promise.” Genji said with a smile, pressing a deep kiss to Jesse’s lips before standing fluidly.

“Damn...At least shower off before ya go, alright?”

“Only if you join me.” The ninja chimed, waggling his eyebrows and making Jesse laugh.

“Can’t say no ta an offer like that.”

Genji grinned, Jesse standing and following his boyfriend into the bathroom, squeezing his sides playfully as they went.

-

The next morning, Jesse had awoke to Genji at his side as usual, the Shimada whining about a headache and making him chuckle softly. The cowboy made sure he got some medicine and a shower, then began to make breakfast. Genji had to leave in a hurry though, citing that he needed to get back before he could make trouble for his brother. Jesse waved as he left, smiling to himself as he finished making himself some food.

He would be seeing Genji again that night as they had planned, and Jesse whistled as he did the dishes with that comforting thought circling through his head. He then showered and got ready for the day, about to leave the bedroom when a beep from his tablet caught his attention. Frowning, Jesse grabbed the tablet out of the bedside table drawer and opened it. A single message from Reyes. The contents made Jesse’s stomach drop, breath catching in his throat.

"Shimada castle has been attacked by a rival clan. This is the perfect time for you to sneak in there and get the information we need. Get in and get out Jesse, and stay safe."

His dream had finally ended.

~~

[robo-cryptid]

Blackwatch AU Bullshit

This is a drabble of a thing I am definitely not following through on until my other fic is done. I just had to write it so it would leave me aloooone. PG-13-ish. McHanzo, kinda.

Edit: hello, this is the drabble that became the first scene of Not That I’m Complaining, and it definitely did not stay “PG-13-ish.” It is most definitely Explicit. You can find the whole fic on AO3.

Jesse was mighty proud of this one. Gabe had trusted him, made him his right hand man for this job, and the whole thing went off without a hitch. It took most of Blackwatch and no small number of Overwatch good guys, but they brought the Shimada-gumi to its knees in one quick, devastating blow. Now Jesse just had to oversee the cleanup, figure out who went where.

That part went smooth enough. Gabe gave him a good breakdown anyway: put the bigwigs in international custody, give the rest to the feds but not the local police. They’d owned them for decades already. Jesse owed some Shimada traitors a deal, some guard and his buddy willing to sell out the clan for immunity. Gabe had cleared that too, didn’t see why a couple of straight up ninjas couldn’t be a part of Blackwatch. It was a better fate than prison, Jesse suspected. He couldn’t know for sure, had taken the same deal years ago in the hopes he never would.

It was all smooth sailing until Khemiri flagged him down, told him Jesse, personally, might have a problem. The sons were asking to speak with him, and Khemiri was real squirrely about it. Jesse sighed, determined then and there that if either of these punks fucked up his chance to show Gabe what he could do, he was just gonna shoot them.

He stomped into the room, and, well, he might feel a little anxious and a little angry and a little cocky, but he was also a hot-blooded man. The sight of them two on their knees was a pretty one. Both had their hands up by their heads, elbows out, the picture of surrender. But Jesse knew better, had read their files. These two were a couple of murderous assholes, just like their daddy. Probably had a few dozen ways to kill him all mapped out in their heads already.

The one on the left gave him a sharp, toothy smile. “Whose dick do I have to suck to cut a deal around here?” Of course he spoke perfect English. Jesse moved closer, took a look at the light sheen of sweat on his skin, the massive pupils. “Please tell me it’s yours, cowboy,” he crooned, gave Jesse the bedroom eyes. Drugged up, filthy mouth, green hair; this must’ve been the baby brother.

“Sorry, sweetheart.” Green-hair pouted at him. “Ain’t how it works.”

“But you did cut a deal,” said the one on his right. This was the older one, then, with a low voice that made Jesse’s insides curl up nice and warm. Unlike his brother, he looked completely sober, had eyes that could cut right though a man. Even on his knees and surrounded by agents, he looked like he was the one in charge. It rubbed Jesse all wrong, in more than a few senses. “We will provide our services to your organization in exchange for our freedom.”

Jesse snorted, looked him right in the eye. “Will you now?”

“Are you not a man of your word?” One imperious brow raised at him, a little smirk at the corner of his mouth.

Jesse stopped short then, stared hard at him. Their informant had been masked, but he’d had a low voice, had the same coffee-colored eyes, a fan of lashes so dark Jesse’d thought he was wearing makeup. And that piercing was pretty distinctive; he remembered little dents on the informant’s nose where he’d removed it. “I am that,” Jesse said, a little uneasy. “What’d I tell you to say?”

That pretty mouth curled slow into a little smirk, and he dropped his voice low. “I’m your huckleberry,” he said in a passable imitation of Jesse’s drawl. Someone behind Jesse burst into laughter.

“Son of a bitch.” Gabe was gonna kill him.

[clareguilty]

Shoot First, Think Later(McCree/Reader)

Shoot First, Think Later (Reward Fic)  Patreon Reward for Blah! McCree/Reader Word count: 1305 words Rating: Mature (Graphic Violence, Gore, Blood)

Shooting was never something Jesse McCree had to think about. His hands moved faster than his brain on most occasions, and he never missed. Six enemies appeared before him and, before he could even speak, he had reloaded and put six bullets in six skulls. As spooky as it was, Jesse had always figured it was a good thing he was such a quick draw. It had kept him out of prison.

Blackwatch had been good for Jesse. He had taken to the “good guy” thing with ease and enthusiasm. Commander Reyes was a good teacher and a great friend, and he had found a family with the Blackwatch team. Sure, they babied him sometimes for being the youngest, but he wouldn’t have traded it for the world. He was going to make this work, six shots at a time.

The problem was six shots could only take out six guys. When a horde of cartel scum piled out of the back of an armored car, Jesse knew he was fucked. His hands were shooting even while his brain was trying to make sense of the situation. Ten guys, all with older AK models and Kevlar vests. Six of them were dead before he had finished counting. The other four were taking aim.

“Jesse, get down!” A voiced called from behind him. McCree wasted no time, diving to the side and rolling behind some nearby scaffolding as a hailstorm of bullets and gunfire erupted around him. You appeared from behind your own cover and lobbed a flashbang in the direction of the cartel mercenaries. McCree’s finger pulled the trigger before you could even raise your rifle. You scrambled to where McCree was crouched, kneeling beside him with a concerned expression.

“Are you okay? You should have taken cover the second the armored car pulled up.” Your voice was not harsh and admonishing like Commander Reyes’s. The sound was sweet, concerned. Jesse met your eyes and grinned.

“I’m doin’ great now that you’re here.” He said, and he meant it for once. Sure, he flirted with everyone, but you had just saved his hide. You just sighed, used to his teasing after months of working with McCree. You and Jesse had never been too close, but you worked well together. In all honesty, you thought he was kind of sweet. Another round of gunshots, about 20 meters away, caused the both of you to flinch and reach for your weapons. Valdez’s voice rang in over the comms.

“Are you two okay back there? I could use a little help over here.” She asked, her question punctuated by a series of loud shots.

“All good,” McCree called back, “Be right there.” He stood quickly, only to sway on his feet and grab onto the rusted scaffolding for support. You jumped to your feet to support him, quickly looking the cowboy up and down to check for injuries. A dark spot was blooming under McCree’s chest plate, blood seeping into his shirt. How had you not noticed this earlier? You gently pressed your fingers to the spot, flinching as McCree hissed in pain and grabbed your wrist.

“Change of plans.” You said over comms, “McCree’s been hit, I’m getting him to the transport.” Jesse looked ready to protest, but you had already thrown his arm around your shoulders and started marching that way. He watched the determination in your eyes as you carried him towards the drop ship. Lines had etched themselves into your forehead and your mouth was set in a thin line as you checked around every corner. Jesse realized he didn’t like seeing you like this. He wanted your easy smile, the way your eyes crinkled when you laughed at one of his stupid jokes, the flush of your cheeks after a few shots of tequila. Instead, you gripped him tighter and pushed silently through the old shipyard.

Of course, everything had to go to hell right as you and Jesse were about to make it to the transport. A small posse of very angry cartel thugs emerged from around a corner. You couldn’t drop Jesse, so you fumbled to reach for your pistol at your side, hoping you could shoot with your non-dominant hand. You hadn’t even raised your weapon when the thugs fell to the ground. You looked around for Valdez but didn’t see her. That was when you felt Jesse move against your side and noticed him holstering his pistol, wheezing in pain. Blood was dribbling from between his teeth, and you absently tried to wipe the dark liquid out of the scruffy hair on his chin. This asshole landed four perfect shots even though he was on the brink of unconsciousness.

“What the hell? You shouldn’t be shooting anyone right now. You have a hole in your side, idiot.” You huffed, trying to hide how impressed you were behind your critical tone.

“Sorry,” Jesse said croakily, he really didn’t sound like he was doing okay. “I always shoot without thinkin’” You just strengthened your grip on the cowboy and booked it to the transport. You wasted no time, laying Jesse across the bench and tearing open a med kit. He groaned weakly and you noticed the blood had soaked through his whole shirt.

“Hey, Jesse,” You pushed his long hair out of his face, “You gotta stay with me for a few more minutes.” You leaned into his space, cracking open two biotic emitters, and fumbling with the clasps on his chest plate. Buttons scattered loudly across the metal floor as you ripped his shirt open, revealing his toned chest and an angry red bullet wound in his side. The high caliber round had grazed his side, tearing open a long strip of flesh from his hips to his ribs.

“You could at least buy me dinner first,” Jesse wheezed as you examined the area, “Before you start tearin’ my clothes off.” He watched you carefully navigate the bloody gash. You looked so focused, so intense. He missed the feeling of your firm grip as you had carried him to the drop ship. The pain of getting shot was nothing compared to the guilt he felt for worrying you so much. Darkness tugged at the back of his mind as blood loss and shock tried to lure him into unconsciousness.

“I’ll take you out to dinner wherever you like if you don’t die on me.” You said, dumping antiseptic solution over the whole area. The double duty biotics were certainly helping, and you fought the urge to gag as you watched his flesh begin to repair itself right before your eyes.

“Hey,” Jesse said weakly, “Come here for a sec.” The rattle of his voice was a horrifying sound; your throat tightened. You did as he said, moving to kneel by his head. Color had drained from his cheeks, and every breath he took was shallow and accompanied by a gut-wrenching gurgling noise. You were caught completely off guard as Jesse reached out and took your face in his cold hands.

His lips tasted like blood, but you weren’t really thinking about that as you tangled your own fingers in Jesse’s sweaty hair and pulled him close to you. As far as kisses go, it was pretty lame. But the sentiment and passion behind it made your heart flutter and your eyes roll back. When you pulled away, Jesse breathed heavily and laid back on the bench. His eyes closed and you grabbed his wrist to make sure his pulse stayed strong while he was unconscious.

“You really do shoot without thinking.” You grinned, tasting the blood on your tongue, and leaning close to the sleeping cowboy. “How about sushi for dinner?” You asked an unconscious Jesse, “Or that good Italian place on the river? I’ll buy us a bottle of wine.”

[elthadriel]

Heart is Full

All Gabriel wanted to do was sleep. Somehow Jack's inability maintain an organised filing system gets in the way..

Read on Ao3

Gabriel knocked on Jack’s office door, but didn’t wait for answer before letting himself in.

Jack smiled at the sight of him, causing a warmth to spread through Gabriel’s chest, but he didn’t stand from his desk. He wasn’t alone, Tracer and Torbjörn sitting across from him. Normally a private man, Gabriel was too tired to care about the audience.

“Gabe, what’s up?”

“I haven’t slept in something like thirty hours, and I have three hours free until my next meeting. I’m going take a nap, so, couple things. First, if anyone disturbs me, I will shove my hand up their fucking asshole and rip their guts out through their rectum; please spread the word. Second, Jack, I want to be spooned, come nap with me.”

Torbjörn sniggered. Gabriel ignored him.

Jack pulled a face. “I would, but I’m meeting with someone from the press in just a moment, and then I’m briefing some agents.”

“I’m leaving you,” Gabriel said.

“I can make it up to you, promise.” Jack reached into his desk and pulled out a set of keys, throwing them to Gabriel. “Use my room so you don’t have to trek back to the Blackwatch headquarters.”

“I knew there was a reason I was dating the boss.”

Torbjörn muttered something about public displays of affection.

“You only love me for the perks, I see how it is.” Jack did stand now, and leant over the desk, pulling Gabriel into a quick kiss. There was stubble on Jack’s jaw, suggesting it had been a while since he had been able to get any rest as well. Fuck, they could both use a break.

Tracer made an “awh” noise behind him, and Gabriel flipped her off without even turning.

“If it helps, I love you at least as much as your bed.”

“Ya aren’t fooling anyone, Gabriel,” Torbjörn said, causing Jack to laugh. Jesus, he was handsome.

“Go sleep, Gabe, I’ll see you later.”

Gabriel tugged Jack into another quick kiss. “I love you.”

“Love you, too.”

---

Gabriel dumped his clothes in a pile on Jack’s floor, and collapsed into the bed.

“I lied,” he mumbled into the pillows. “I love you far more than I could ever love Jack.”

The bed didn’t respond, but Gabriel was sure it felt the same way. Remorsefully, he set an alarm on his phone, giving him just enough time for a very quick, very cold shower, and to jog over to the meeting room. Left to his own devices, he would sleep for a week.

Jack’s bed was more Spartan than his own, so he was unable to build a nest of pillows and blankets as he would have liked, but at that moment, he would have slept on the floor if that was his only option. It was just nice to be able to close his eyes and not have to struggle to open them again.

He nuzzled into the pillow. Fuck, he loved this bed.

Someone banged on the door, jolting him awake.

Gabriel ignored it.

“Er, hey Boss, I’m sorry to bother you, I need a favour.”

Jesse Fucking McCree. Why was it always Jesse?

He fumbled for his phone. Fuck, there’s no way he’d already slept for an hour. It felt like minutes. There was another knock on the door and he jerked, already half back to sleep.

If there was one thing he had learned in the time he’d known Jesse, it was ignoring him and hoping he would go away was a fool’s game. Jesse was fucking persistent.

Gabriel hauled himself out of bed.

He considered for a brief second pulling some of his clothes back on, aware he was probably more threatening while wearing something other than just a pair of boxer briefs with little - he glanced down, shit it was worse than he thought – cartoon images of Jack’s face, because Jack thought shitty Overwatch memorabilia was peak comedy. In the end he didn’t, the idea of not just putting the clothes on, but having to take them off again was exhausting, and he trusted himself to be able to be intimidating no matter how little he was wearing.

He tore open the door, not tall enough to tower over Jesse, but he could push back his shoulders to best demonstrate just how much broader he was. “McCree, you better have the best fucking excuse of your sorry-ass life, or I will be making you run laps until you vomit every day for the rest of your time here. It will be leg day five days a-fucking-week, you pathetic, little cunt nugget.”

Jesse blinked, genuine fear flashing in his eyes for a moment.

“And I’ll confiscate your hat,” Gabriel added.

“Woah, Boss, let’s not get hasty.”

“Jesse, you have ten seconds before I break you in half.”

Jesse held up his hands in surrender.

“So I was meant to be putting together a report for the debrief thing later, ya know, and I sort of didn’t do it yet. And now I c-” Jesse cut off, eyes fixing on Gabriel’s underwear. A couple of awkward seconds pass before Jesse looked back up, mouth opening.

“Four seconds, McCree.” He let his lips curl into a snarl.

Jesse swallowed. “I can’t find the mission brief and I figured you’d have one.”

“You woke me, interrupting the first moments of sleep I’ve been able to have in over a fucking day, and are now expecting me to wonder over to my room in fucking Blackwatch headquarters, because you what, ate your own copy? Or are you asking me to give you my keys and provide you with unsupervised access to my room?” Gabriel wondered if he could argue justified murder if he killed Jesse right now. Probably not, but it might be worth the risk anyway. “Because, that would be a really stupid thing to ask me.”

“Shit, boss, no.” Jesse hooked his hands into his belt. “I figured Morrison would have a copy.”

Gabriel could just close the door, crawl back into the heavenly embrace of Jack’s bed, put a pillow over his head and sleep for the next hour and a half, and ignore whatever noise Jesse would make outside in the hallway. But, with Jesse, giving him what he wanted was usually the best way of making him go away, and he was too fucking tried to wait him out.  

“This better be the best fucking report you have ever made, you hear me?” He turned back into the room, leaving the door open behind him.

“Well fuck me up and call me Delilah,” Jesse said, stepping into the doorway, looking over the disaster that was Jack’s room. “How come you yell at me when I leave my kit on the floor but Morrison gets to live like this?”

Gabe winced a little. Jesse had a point, Jack’s room, which always looked to be in some state of a small disaster, was even worse than usual. Clothes were in numerous piles around the room, amongst overflowing bangs of rubbish and piles of books. In the middle of the floor was a bag from Jack’s last mission, five weeks before, which he still hadn’t finished unpacking, and yes, that was a plate with half eaten food on it. Even in his exhausted state, Gabriel was only able to tone down the urge to tidy rather than dismiss it completely. He gathered up his own clothes, roughly folding them and putting them over the back of the desk chair while he surveyed the mess.

“Are you the commander of Overwatch?” He asked Jesse, pulling open one of the desk drawers, and rummaging through the papers there.

“No,” Jesse said sullenly.

“When you are, you will also be free to live in your own filth, until then you have to meet my standards.” He closed the drawer, pulling open the one below it; would it kill Jack to have even the most basic form of organisation system?

“Bothers the shit out of you, doesn’t it?” Jesse had a stupid grin across his face.

“It has bothered me since literally the first day I met the shit head.” Gabriel glared down at the contents of the drawer; there were documents in there from four years ago. Jack was lucky he was cute.

“You’re fucking adorable.”

“McCree, I can, and will, kick your ass all the way across this base.” He didn’t look up, rummaging through the top layers of the piles of paper, trusting that Jack was far too unorganised to have any sort of system, and the newer documents should be near the top.

He sighed, pushing the drawer shut with a bang.

“Listen boss, don’t worry about it, I’ll figure something else out, go back to sleep.” McCree actually sounded apologetic; or maybe Gabriel was so tired he was experiencing auditory hallucinations.

“Give me a moment, he sometimes just stuffs things in here, when the desk is too far away” Gabriel said, grabbing laptop bag that Gabriel didn’t think had actually held a laptop in years. It was instead, filled with a broken tablet, a charger for a laptop he didn’t own anymore, and not the one the bag was for,  and a folder hopefully containing the brief.

He pulled the folder out, but it tangled in the cord of the charger, pulling it out along with half of the contents of the bag.

Gabriel swore, shoving things back into the bag, because unlike Jack he wasn’t an animal and could put things back where he found them. Left on the floor was a small square box that he almost returned to the bag without considering before his mind supplied a helpful suggestion of what it might be. Curiosity got the better of him.

When faced with exactly what he has expected, he found himself completely unsure what to do next.

Fucking hell. He was too tired for any of this.

He sat back on the bed, abandoning the folder beside him, still holding the little box.

“You okay, boss?” Jesse entered the room, carefully making his way across the little bits of carpet uncovered by Jack’s stuff. “You find it?”

Gabriel knew he should hide the box, and then getting Jesse involved in this was only asking for trouble, but he was just too dazed to react before Jesse was looming over him.

“Holy fucking shit balls, Gabe. Is that a fucking engagement ring? Is Morrison gonna propose?” It was proof that Jesse was capable of learning that he didn’t try to take the box from Gabriel’s hands. Turns out with enough patience and glaring you could teach a cowboy manners.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what it is.” He was sitting in novelty overwatch underwear, holding a fucking engagement ring. How the hell had this afternoon turned into this?

Jesse was still talking excitedly, but Gabriel tuned him out, still looking down at the box.

It was a simple ring, just a gold band with a small black sapphire set deep into it. Nondescript enough that Gabriel would feel comfortable wearing it on missions, or hell, even round the nosy assholes he worked with.

Jesse had stopped talking, but was still beaming at Gabriel when he finally looked up. Content that he had Gabriel’s attention, Jesse asked, “You gonna say yes?”

Fuck, Gabriel hadn’t even considered that. How had he not considered that?

“I don’t know,” he said, somewhat helplessly. “Probably? When the fuck would we even find time to get married? I can’t even find time to sleep.”  His brain was working overtime now. “Who even knows if Jack is planning to actually propose any time soon. his parents were cleaning out some of their stuff last summer, and I know they sent stuff to him. This might just be an heirloom or something.” Shit, he really was too tired, he was actually on the verge of freaking out about this.

It looked too much in his taste to be for anyone else, if it was an heirloom, Jack must have had the stone’s reset with him in mind.

“Chill, boss, we don’t need to talk about this.”

Jesse really was a good kid. Gabriel took a deep breath, closing the box. “You’re right, what the fuck am I doing talking to you about this?”

Jesse laughed, standing up, and holding his hands up in surrender. “You want me to get Miss Amari?”

Gabriel ran a hand down his face. “No, I want to sleep. I’ll deal with this later.” He was still fidgeting with the box, so he made himself stand back up and put it back just where he had found it. Next time he got Jack alone, he would ask about it, until then there was nothing to be done.

“Did you find the damn brief?”

“Oh!” Jesse snatched the folder off the bed, flipping it open and rummaging through. God only knew what classified documents were also in there, but  Gabriel didn’t care enough right now to stop him.

Jesse let out a whoop, and held up the paper triumphantly.

“Good, now get your ass out of here, and remember, I’m expecting the best report anyone in this sorry base has ever seen, you hear?”

“Yes, Sir.” Jesse gave a lazy salute, and was gone as quickly as he had arrived.

With a final glare at the bag holding the ring, Gabriel crawled back into bed.

---

Jack curled against Gabriel’s back, breath warm against Gabriel’s neck. One of his arms was wrapped across Gabriel’s chest, pulling him tightly back into the heat of Jack’s body. Gabriel had joked in the past that he had only started dating Jack when they had been stationed up north for the body heat; life in California had left Gabriel miserable in the cold.

Gabriel snuggled deeper into the pillow and Jack’s arms, wondering through his half asleep brain when the last time he been able to just relax with his partner.

His eyes snapped open. This was definitely too good to be true.

He fumbled for his phone, squinting into the blinding light, struggling to make out the time.

God fucking damnit.

He had slept for nearly eleven hours.

He scrambled from the bed, reaching for his clothes. He wasn’t exactly sure what his plan was, it was way, way too late to repair the damage done. Why hadn’t someone woken him?

There was moment from the bed, but Gabriel didn’t turn.

“Ugh, Gabe, sweetheart?” Jack said, sleep thick in his voice. “It’s the middle of the night, come back to bed.”

“I just slept through at least two meetings, and one training program I was supposed to lead. I have to fix this fucking mess.” He twisted his hands together, a knot growing in his gut.

Jack laughed and Gabriel spun around, ready to snap at him, but even in the dim light he could see the fondness in Jack’s gaze. Jack reached out took one of his hands, interrupting their anxious fidgeting. Jack tried to tug him back into the bed.

“It’s fine, Gabe. You needed the rest, I covered for you.”

It took Gabriel’s sleep addled brain a second to comprehend what exactly that meant and another for his heart to get the message and stop pounding.

“Shit Jackie, you already have enough to do without covering for my lazy ass.”

Jack yawned, not covering his mouth. “But it’s such a nice ass.”

Gabriel rolled his eyes. “I’m serious, how much of your own shit did you put off.”

“Just say thank you, fuckface. You needed the break and I made time.”

It was hard to argue with Jack when he was running his thumb over the back of Gabriel’s knuckles.

“Thanks.”

Jack made a satisfied noise and snuggled back into the bed, tugging more insistently at Gabriel’s hand again. Gabriel took a second to acknowledge the warmth in his chest, and how disgustingly domestic they had become, before dropping his half gathered clothes back onto the chair and letting himself be pulled back into the bed. It was still warm, and he settled eagerly back into Jack’s side.

He couldn’t remember when they had last had time to cuddle like this, but Jack was still a familiar weight against him, and uncomplaining as Gabriel used him as a mostly acceptable substitute for the mountain of blankets and pillows he would have liked.

Shit, he was so in love, and it was so fucking gross.

“Besides,” Jack said, voice muffled by the pillow, “I could tell you really needed the break considering you slept through me falling over the shit you left on my floor when I snuck in to turn off your alarm.”

Gabriel frowned.

“Like fuck you did. There’s enough crap on this floor to start new watchpoint, and you fall over my shoes. No way.”

Jack laughed. “Okay, fine, I tripped over my own stuff, but you still slept through it.”

“Fuck you, Morrison, I’m going to report you for slander.”

Jack sniggered, poking Gabriel lightly in the ribs. “I can’t wait for HR to deal with that one.”

“I know Jesse has filed a complaint against me for, and I quote “being a mean jerk who makes me run laps”, so I doubt it would be the strangest thing they’ve seen.”

“Shit, I remember that. Most of Blackwatch isn’t even technically on our employment roaster, so they were really confused about who the fuck McCree was and how he had their email.”

“Maybe I should save off on the complaints, HR have been through enough with that kid already.”

“Oh, speaking of,” Jack said, “remember to thank McCree, next time you see him. It was his idea to let you sleep and do the debrief for you. Caught the shit trying to put a report together.”

“Huh, knew he was up to something, no way he’d put that much effort into a report for no reason.” He really would have to thank Jesse, the kid had come a long way.

Jack snorted. “He said he was sorry for waking you to and ‘he ‘opes you’ll forgive him, considering” Even half asleep, Jack’s southern drawl, a solid impersonation of Jesse, was good enough to pull a laugh out of Gabriel. “Though, I’m glad I caught him at it, his report was,” Jack paused, “experimental.”

“Diplomatically put.” The skin of Jack’s neck fluttered under the heat of Gabriel’s breath, and he resisted the urge to bite at it, too tired to follow up the tease.

“Still, he’d done enough of the groundwork that it was easy for me to finish it up and run a smooth debrief. A little more personal oversight from you, and he could be quite the agent. You were right about taking him on.”

“He’s a good kid,” Gabriel agreed.

“He kept smirking at me though, I think he’s plotting something. You know anything about that?”

Oh. Yeah. Shit.

Gabriel considered leaving it, but he was worried he’d lose his nerve, or hell, how often did they get time alone to talk?

“About that.” Reluctantly, Gabriel, pulled away from Jack, sitting up, twisting the blanket between his hands.

Jack raised his eyebrows, but followed suit, sitting up, back against the wall. “Should I be concerned?”

“I had to look through your stuff to find the mission brief, and I sort of found something.”

“If Jesse’s seen our sex toys, I’m faking my death and retiring to Iceland.”

“He hasn’t seen our- Why would I even be looking there?” Gabriel asked. Jack looked at the mess spread across the entirety of his room, and gave a rueful shrug. Gabriel made a noise of disgusted, conceding the point. He should just say what he’d found, get it over with.

“It was in your old laptop bag.”

It took only a second, before Jack’s eyes widened.

“You don’t have to say anything, or feel pressured. Hell, I don’t even know if you were planning- I just thought you should know I found it.” Please stop talking, he begged himself. “We can just pretend I never-”

“Oh thank fuck.” Jack said, all in one quick breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve had that shitting ring, trying to figure out how to ask you, or if now was even the right time. It’s been killing me.”

“Why didn’t you just, you know, ask?”

“I was nervous!” Jack was pouting, and Gabriel was grudgingly willing to acknowledge it was fucking adorable.

“Of what? You know I’m stupidly in love with you, what did you have to be nervous about?” Of course Jack could face an army of robots without flinching, but this caused him pause. Gabriel knew he was being hypocritical; he would take battling omnics over dealing with his emotions too.

Jack shrugged, looking down at his hands.

“Is that a yes?” Jack asked after a second.

Gabriel stared at him. “What?”

“If I proposed, would you say yes?”

Fuck. He still hadn’t thought that far ahead.

“I don’t know, I mean what would be the point?”

“The point?”

“We’ve been dating for what, ten years now?” Shit, it really had been that long. “I just don’t know if we need to get married to prove anything to anyone.”

“I guess I just figured it was something people do.”

“Sure, maybe people who have more free time than us. Shit Jack, I mean, we haven’t even had fucking dinner together in weeks.”

“Right! When would we even find the time to get married!” Jack said, and it sounded like agreement, so Gabriel didn’t know why his chest still felt tight.

They sat in silence, and Gabriel couldn’t tell if it was awkward or not.

“We could have a long engagement.”

“Huh?” Jack look at him with the dumb expression Gabriel always thought resembled a confused puppy.

“Let’s be fucking honest, Jack, there’s probably never going to be a good time to do this, and who knows when we’ll have the time to have an actual wedding, but I want to marry you, even if it’s a decade from now, so why not just make it official.”

Jack was beaming, looking younger than he had in years. He scrambled to the edge of the bed, fishing the laptop bag to him and pulling out the ring.

“Gabriel, will you marry me?”

“Yeah, I’ll marry you.”

The box was caught between their hands as they kissed, uncoordinated and messy. Jack was laughing, a little breathlessly, gripping at Gabriel’s neck with his free hand. For a second it felt like a decade before, their first time together, clumsy and giggly, high on each other, fumbling in the dark. It was nice to know some things hadn’t changed.

“Tomorrow, we’re both gonna be sick,” Jack said, firmly, as they broke apart, “tragically struck down by some mysterious ailment, and we’re not gonna leave this bed, and we’re gonna have the best celebratory sex anyone has ever had.”

“That an order, commander?”

“Absolutely.” Jack was grinning, wider than Gabriel had seenn him smile in a long time, and only when he was thinking how doofy Jack looked did he realise he was also grinning like an idiot.

“Here.” Jack had pulled the ring from the box, holding it out to Gabriel. Gabriel wasn’t really one for jewelry, but it fit snugly on his finger. He could see himself wearing this forever.

“I’ll have to get you one,” he murmured, more to himself than to Jack.

“Take your time, It took me long enough to get this one too you.” Jack put the now empty box down on the bedside table, laying back down on the bed, dragging Gabriel with him.

“Seriously though, how long have you had the ring?” They settled back down into the bed, wrapping their arms around each other. It was almost the exact same position as before, but it somehow felt different.

“You can’t laugh.” Jack said, and Gabriel would bet he was blushing.

“No promises.”

Jack chuckled nervously. “Two years, give or take.”

“Two years? Two ye- Fucking hell, Morrison, what were you doing?” If he wasn’t just getting comfortable again, he would have sat up just to stare in horror at Jack.

Shit, Gabriel was going to marry this idiot.

“Who even knows? Ana was starting to despair. She threatened to ask you to marry her, if I didn’t get my act together. Just to prove how easy it was.” Jack hid his face in Gabriel's neck, and as he has expected it was warmer than it really should be.

“Wait, hold on, I could have married Ana? Can I take back my yes? I’d rather marry her.”

Jack snorted. “I mean, honestly, who wouldn’t? But no, no takebacks, you’re stuck with me.”

Gabriel let out an exaggerated groan. “I guess there’s worse things than being stuck with you forever.”

Jack laughed, bright and happy. “Forever.”

[talesfromthepayload]

I Hate You

A/N: Okay, so you said Overwatch agent reader with Reaper. I got a little confused so I did one for pre-fall Reaper. If you didn’t want Gabriel, I can redo his part for Reaper, just let me know and I’d be happy to fix the mistake! :D

Also, sexual themes but not actually explicit. (Sorry if the requester wanted it to be, I just knew it’d take me way too long as most NSFW stuff takes me a whole lot longer than the rest.)

Anon: Hi! I love the way you write the characters, it’s honestly very believable. Can we get a nsfw imagine with Overwatch Agent!Reader and Reaper, 76, and McCree (separately)? The reader and hero are always at odds and try to out do the other. Maybe they do it after a mission? I know it’s kinda overdone but it’s my favorite trope. Thank you so much - I hope I’m not bothering you <3

Gabriel:

You were going to kill him. Plain and simple.

He was a jackass. You’d told him the plan, gone over it time and time again just to drill it into his head. Jack had given you lead of this mission, and you damn well expected Gabriel to follow it just as the others head.

Instead, he did just the opposite.

“Gabriel,” you growled into the com, watching with narrowed eyes as he disappeared into an empty corridor.

It was a recon mission, not one where open fire was even supposed to take place, but Gabriel had been insistent on wiping the factory clean.

“Uh, boss?” The southern drawl of McCree had called.

You threw him a look from your position, throwing a finger towards the drop ship. McCree followed without question, Genji on his tail as they both boarded the ship.

“You two get out of here,” you said, “I’ll deal with the asshole.”

“Still listening,” Gabriel had muttered, his voice winded from running.

“Good, you jackass,” you huffed back, sprinting in his direction.

Distantly, you could hear the drop ship making its way into the air and away from you. You sighed, a hand running over your features. Gabriel was going to be the death of you.

No quicker had you thought that before a hand whipped out, one strong arm gripping your waist. You thrashed, attempting to push the offender off. Your gaze met chocolate eyes, your fist crashing hard against a sharp cheekbone.

“What the hell?” Gabriel yelled, reeling back from the hit.

His hand cradled his cheek, his teeth clenching together.

“What’d you expect?” You laughed bitterly. “You pulled me into a dark empty hallway without warning.”

“A little appreciation would be nice,” he mumbled, rubbing at where you’d hit him.

You rolled your eyes at him, shoving a finger in his direction.

“Listen here, you dick,” you bit out, poking him hard in the chest, “when I give you a goddamn order, you listen to me, got it? I get you’re ‘Blackwatch Commander Reyes’,” your fingers were in air quotations, sass coming out with each syllable.

“But this is my mission, so act like a fucking agent and do what I tell you.”

You were seething, hands balled into fists as you glared up at him.

“You done?” He asked, bored.

Oh, that’s it.

You were going to kill him.

You were going to chop his damn head off.

Cute little smirk be damned, he was a dead man.

Like the ball of rage you were, you jumped at him, fully aware you had no plan of action, just anger.

He dodged you narrowly, shoving you back into the wall. His hands whipped out before you could react, pinning your wrists above your head. You struggled, trying (and failing) to free yourself of his grasp.

“Gabriel!” You yelled, annoyed that you couldn’t break free.

Damn him and his unfairly large biceps.

“Will you shut up?” He snapped back, eyes trained on something to the left.

He paid you no mind, focusing on something you were far too angry to care about.

“Me?” Your voice was scandalized as you pushed and kicked in his grasp to no avail. “You’re the one being a dick. I ask you to do one thing- one thing- but no you have to go all lone wolf and-”

“Quiet,” he shot you a look, tone growing lower as he listened.

“No, I won’t be quiet, so stop acting like an asshole and le-”

“(Y/N)!” He whispered, leaning in closer to try and quiet you down.

“Gabriel!” You shot back sarcastically, continuing on your rant. “I don’t care who you think you are, I’m your superior today and you wi-”

Finally, with a sigh to himself, he surged forward, roughly pushing his lips against yours.

You froze, mind short circuiting.

Anger soon took over your actions, and you found your lips moving against his cruelly, tongue and teeth battling for dominance.

His body pushed tighter to yours, rage and arousal swelling in your veins. He was relentless in the kiss, harsh and unforgiving as you gave as good as you got. Neither one of you wanted to pull away, but eventually, the need for air caused you to.

As soon as you did, you attacked his neck, biting into his pulse point. His hands did not stay idle, sliding under your shirt to your hips. He grinded against you, moving your hips in sync with his.

“I would suggest staying here,” he breathed, voice all rough edges and hard lines.

“But we’ve got half an armory worth of explosives about to detonate.”

That snapped you back to your senses, your eyes widening as you pulled away. Briefly, your gaze moved from his face to the imprint of your teeth on his neck. You smiled sheepishly.

“Your room,” he said, not bothering to see if you were following as he walked away, already signalling for emergency evacuation.

You released a breath.

“Jackass,” you muttered, knowing that you would most definitely be waiting to show him exactly who was in charge as soon as you got back onto base.

You couldn’t wait.

Jesse McCree:

Often times, you were quite positive the universe was working against you in some evil plot to destroy your life. This was definitely one of those times.

“27,” Jesse chuckled, having the audacity to throw you a wink.

You ground your teeth, chucking a rock in his general direction. He dodged it with ease.

“Stay focused,” a slightly robotic voice hummed from over the comm device.

“You stay focused,” you growled back, leaning against your scope as you sought out Talon agents.

One came into your sights, a weapon at the ready. Your fingered hovered over the trigger, a breath releasing quietly as you steadied your arm.

Bang.

“Too slow,” Jesse smirked.

Your snarled, ready to throw your damn scope at the stupid cowboy. If it hadn’t been for Gabriel’s insistence, you wouldn’t even be on this mission.

“Why don’t you worry about getting what we need and getting the hell out,” you suggested dryly.

Despite your anger, you still watched Genji and McCree’s back from a vantage point. The hot desert sun was beginning to weigh on your irritation, only furthering your anger at the ‘charming’ cowboy.

“I already did so, darlin’,” he said, not missing a beat.

Through your scope, you could see him wink in direction. Your fingers tightened on the gun.

“Genji did so, you just watched,” you argued back.

Genji’s laughter rang over the comm device.

“You two have a serious problem,” he stated, wind blowing hair into your face as he sped by you.

“Guess you will solve it today.”

Genji shrugged, though you noted a hint of teasing in those red eyes of his.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Though you couldn’t see it, Genji’s tone suggested he had a smirk hidden beneath the metal plate.

“Have fun finding a way back.”

And like that, he was gone just as quickly. You frantically grabbed at your gear, pulling your weapon to your chest as you shoved yourself off the ground, running in Genji’s direction, but it was too late. You could hear the roar of the drop-ship’s engine, its propellers like mocking laughter.

You cursed Genji in your head, calling over to McCree on the comm device.

“Right here,” he snarked, those dark eyes bearing into you.

“Genji left us,” you bit out, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Boy’s gone crazy,” McCree suggested, his gaze narrowing as he watched you closely. “Your fault, y’ know.

In shock, your arms dropped, mouth parting as you looked for something to say.

Your fault?

He was the one that insisted the battlefield was like a game. Genji probably had gotten tired of watching him fool around and almost get the three of them killed.

“Maybe if you acted like a soldier, cowboy,” you spat back, taking a dangerous step closer to him.

He huffed, tilting his head back so you could get a better view of his roguishly handsome face.

That thought had you grinding your teeth.

“Sniper,” he sneered.

One step.

“Six-shooter,” you snarked.

Another step.

Now only an inch separated you two, but neither seemed to be letting up.

“Vigilante,” he mocked.

You tilted your head up, meeting his fierce gaze with one of your own.

“Criminal,” you scoffed.

His head moved down an inch, stare piercing yours.

And just like that, the dam broke.

You surged upwards, pulling ruthlessly on those soft brown locks of his. His lips met you in the middle, his hands rough on your hips as he shoved your body against his.

Teeth gnashed against teeth, tongues pushing one another as the two of you fought it out. Jesse took seven steps back, shoving you against the nearest wall.

As soon as your back had hit the cool metal, McCree had wrapped your leg over his hips, his body grinding into yours.

You moaned his name lowly, attacking his neck with bites. You had no doubt they’d most definitely be visible for the next couple of days at least.

Jesse groaned at the feel of you.

You didn’t return from the mission for another four hours. It was well worth it, even if Genji had a smirk under his visor.

Soldier: 76:

Jack hated you.

Well, he didn’t hate you exactly, he just had a strong dislike of you on the exterior to hide his very, very strong like of you on the interior. You know, the thing most normal people do.

Besides, you hated him. He was more than sure of it.

All you two did was fight and argue.

He’d tell you one thing, and you’d do the opposite. You’d tell him not to do something, and he’d do it just to piss you off.

“This is your fault,” you snapped, your back pressed tightly to the brick wall behind you, body braced.

Jack bared his teeth, though it was covered by his mask.

“My fault?” He huffed, chancing a glance over the wall.

A shot flew by his head, barely missing its target as it whizzed by into the building behind him. He threw himself back against the ground, fidgeting with his comm device.

“You’re the one who went in after Reaper despite me telling you to stay by the hacker.”

You rolled your eyes.

“I told you to cover her when I ran off!” You replied fiercely, glaring in front of you.

Jack shot you an angry look as the device beeped to life in his hands.

“Immediate evac,” he requested.

Winston replied.

“You’re in too heavy of fire for a safe evacuation, we need you two to lay low for the next day or so before we can risk it.”

Jack growled but didn’t reply.

“A day?” You nearly shouted, kicking your feet so you could be in a crouched position. “We’ll be dead in a day.”

“Follow my lead,” Jack gruffed, not giving you a choice as he grabbed a hold of your forearm.

“Hey!” You protested, trying to pull yourself from his grasp.

His grip was far too strong as he tugged you along. He wasn’t letting up, dodging and weaving the enemy like it was second nature. He was all hard lines and jagged edges, guiding you like you were a child and not a fully trained adult. You couldn’t help but get a little angry at that.

The warehouse he was leading you too wasn’t far away. His thoughts grew louder as he pulled you behind him. He knew you were annoyed, feeling the intensity of your glare, but he decided it didn’t matter. He was saving your life, after all.

“You done dragging me like a rag doll?”

You ripped your hand from his hold, crossing your arms over your chest as you took a calculated step towards him.

“You done acting like a child?”

He narrowed his eyes beneath his visor, the red lights glowing menacingly back at you. A scowl formed on his lips.

“You’re a real ass, you know that?” You stated. “You and that stupid mask you always hide behind.”

He growled, tearing it away from his face with all the pent up rage. He was just trying to save you! Why did you have to be like this? Why were you so ridiculously frustrating?

“I was just helping you,” he bit out, bright blue eyes narrowed dangerously.

You took another step closer, clicking your tongue between your teeth.

“You could’ve given me a warning,” you reasoned, shrugging.

Jack went to push past you, too worried about what was going on outside to continue arguing. You didn’t let him go, however, grabbing a hold of his arm tightly. Jack’s gaze landed where the two of you made contact.

“Jack I-”

A loud bang sounded outside, and, acting on instinct, Jack took of running, dragging you with him. He pulled the both of you behind a stack of crates, dropping himself over your body to shield you from any attacks. He didn’t notice the growing tension as his eyes scanned the warehouse, his body just barely hovering above your own.

Finally, he looked down, realizing just how compromising this position was. Your jaw was clenched. He readied himself for another bout of anger before you surprised him.

You grabbed his head and pulled it down, harshly connecting your lips to his. He gave just as good as he got, his tongue demanding entrance into your mouth. As your lips worked in tandem, sucking and pressing their way against one another, Jack adjusted his body so it was more firmly against you.

Your hands wrapped around his neck, pulling him even tighter as you groaned into his lips.

It wasn’t long before Jack abandoned your lips, his fingers wandering beneath your gear to get a better feel. As he did so, his mouth nipped its way around your neck, leaving harsh marks as if he were marking his territory.

“Guess we have something to keep us busy while we lie low,” you breathed, working on shedding some of his clothing.

Jack growled.

[ofwolvesandshatteredshields]

Deadeye

4.5k words, rated T, pre-relationship McGenji, Blackwatch era, violence warning

Warning for eye trauma. Goes in the continuity of the Sublimation series. Someone prompted me with how Jesse’s Deadeye business might work, so I wrote Yet Another story on my #1 fav theme, non-consensual medical body modification!! Yes

——

There’s no ice.

Fuck. Jesse thinks of drinking it straight, swilling the two fingers of gin as he replaces the lid on his contraband ice bucket. But the day wasn’t that bad, and he wants to stretch this out over a couple of episodes at least. So he picks up the ice bucket, jams his feet into his boots, and heads for the mess.

It’s close to eleven at night so the halls are deserted, the lights dimmed down to pale wisps of blue blotting the black ceiling. Jesse glances over his shoulder now and then but there’s never anyone there in the dark. Probably. And who’s to say Reyes would chew him out for this, anyway? Fuckin’ ridiculous that a little gin is against regulations—

There’s light from under the workshop door.

An electric flicker, the mild scent of something being welded. Jesse doesn’t put in that kind of overtime anymore, has been done with trying to impress Reyes for a long time. So he continues on to the mess and fills the bucket and snags another 3 bags of nutrient-reinforced potato chips, which taste a little off but all in all could really be worse.

On the way back he hears a noise of pain from the workshop.

Sort of like a whimper. Maybe someone nicked themselves. Jesse slides the door open and sticks his head in. “Y’all okay in—oh.”

It’s the new guy.

Some of him, anyway. His head and torso and his one human arm are hanging suspended from the ceiling. His chest and stomach are opened up, mechanical arms buried in his insides. Sparks fly, illuminating tables piled with scattered machine parts; his unmasked face tightens. “I am fine. Thank you.”

Jesse stares. Genji. Right. “Uh—does that hurt?”

“No. It is—ah.” A flinch as one of the metal arms jabs into him. “It is fine.”

“Uh-huh,” Jesse drawls. “Can’t you just, you know…go into sleep mode or something?”

Genji levels a sullen glare at him. “It doesn’t work that way. I still have a brain.”

Jesse leans on the door jamb. “So you just…sit there. For…how long does this take?”

“Several hours,” Genji mutters.

“Several hours. Staring into space while those things zap you.”

“Perform maintenance on me.”

“So that’s a yes.”

“It does not matter!” Genji snaps. “I already told you, I am fine!”

Jesse lingers there for another moment, thinking. Then he straightens, turns, and shuts the door behind him.

In his room he drops a couple ice cubes in the glass of gin and grabs a few things. Genji is still there on his return, gazing at the floor. But he starts when the door opens. “You—why are you still here?”

Jesse toes a couple of rolling chairs out from the long tables and kicks them across the room. On the first one he plants his computer and lets the screen fan out; the second he plops himself down on, adjusting the screen to make sure Genji can see it. “You like westerns?”

“What are you doing?” Genji asks tersely. “What is a western?”

“You know, a cowboy movie? They were real popular about a hundred years ago.”

“I have never seen one. I don’t like old movies. What are you doing?”

Jesse sighs, gritting his teeth. “I’m hangin’ out with you. Since it looked like you could use the company.”

“I do not require company. You do not need to do this. I am fine by myself.”

“God damnit, I know!” Jesse snaps. “I’m doin’ it ‘cause I want to! So just—watch the god damn movie with me, okay?”

A stunned silence. “I…very well.”

“Christ,” Jesse mutters, and starts the file. The MGM logo flickers onto the screen, the lion roaring.

He’s seen it a half-dozen times but all the hard glares and growled lines still put him in a good mood. The gin helps. Genji is quiet behind him except for the hisses of pain. Jesse offers him a bag of potato chips but apparently he isn’t supposed to eat during maintenance.

Jesse slumps in the chair, his glass balanced on his leg, the ice melting slowly. On the screen, John Wayne levels threats at a highwayman. Jesse smiles, his lips moving as he mouths the words…

“Agent McCree.”

Something warm is shaking him. He blinks with bleary eyes.

“Agent McCree. The movie is over.”

“Mm.” There’s drool on his chin. He swipes at it. “Jesse’s fine.”

“Ah. Then…Jesse.”

The movie is over, the credits done, the screen idle. Must have fallen asleep. He grunts. “So? ‘dja like it?”

“I…yes. I did.” Genji removes his human hand from Jesse’s shoulder.

He chuckles. “I knew it. No one can resist John Wayne.” The glass has slipped down, resting balanced between his legs. He picks it up and glances back. “How much longer you got?”

“Not long.” He shrugs. “Less than an hour.”

“Hm. Then if you don’t mind, I might turn in. Since I can’t seem to stay awake.”

“That is all right. I…thank you. For doing this.”

“Hey, you don’t need me to watch a dang movie.” Jesse groans to his feet. “I’ll see you tomorrow, all right?”

“All right.” Genji’s enhanced red eyes watch him. “Good night, Agent—Jesse.”

“Night.” Jesse waves, taking his computer and glass of melted ice with him.

——

“Fuckin’ son of a gun shit asshole dicksucking motherfucker fuck,” Jesse mutters to himself, rather calmly, he thinks, as bullets pock the concrete above his head. That means they’re shooting from both sides now and he isn’t much for being surrounded.

Recon assignment. Right. Stockman dropped them in the middle of a hornet’s nest with nothing more than a pat on the ass. Jesse exhales as the afternoon thunder cracks outside, rolling through the juts and crags of the ruined city. Genji should be okay, he’s mostly made of metal. Reyes…well, who the fuck knows what Reyes is made of, but a few bullets won’t faze him much.

Jesse supposes he’s got body armor, which might stop some bullets if they’re fired from far away. The metal arm, too. The rest of him is soft and squishy and vulnerable to getting pulverized into meat.

He curls up, hiding his head. This building was mostly missed in the bombing the Omnics laid down here fifteen years ago but that doesn’t solve the larger problem of how he’s surrounded by mercs and he’s only got so many bullets. He sticks the rifle out the window above his head and fires blindly. Maybe that’ll scare them off. The ones on that side, anyway.

The clink of metal on concrete.

Jesse knows the sound of a grenade and doesn’t even see it ’til he moves, launching himself towards the gap in the dividing wall. As he goes something nicks his eye.

He doesn’t really feel it yet because the grenade is detonating behind him—on the other side of the wall, at least, so he doesn’t get hurled across the room, only stumbles. But as soon as the echo of the blast fades in his ears, the eye explodes in pain.

Jesse drops his rifle and  hunches, pressing his hands to the injured eye. Blood runs down his gloves, seeping into the edge of his shirt sleeve. It hurts. It really, really hurts. He takes in a shuddered breath and tries not to shout. Instead an agonized whine like a dog’s curls in his throat. Is that it? Is his eye ruined? How is he supposed to shoot? What will Blackwatch do to him if he can’t? Will they take him out back and put him down? He’d like to think his commander wouldn’t let that happen but despite the rank there are people above Reyes in the food chain.

It’s stupid to be thinking about that right now anyway because he’s about to be killed by a dozen Algerian mercenaries, not Blackwatch. Jesse tries to concentrate but he hasn’t felt agony like this since his arm got blown off in Ukraine eight years ago. He can feel the pulsing in his eye, how the blood gushes rhythmically between his gloved fingers. His good eye is tearing up but at the sound of approaching footsteps he blinks furiously, trying to make it focus. Dark shapes in front of him, and he raises the rifle in his off-hand, metal finger searching for the trigger—

A brilliant flash of silver. Shouts of surprise—Jesse would know what they were saying if he’d brushed up on the language like Reyes asked—and the deafening rattle of rifle fire in close quarters. The ringing of metal and gurgles of pain. Jesse scrubs his good eye with his sleeve.

Genji.

Crouched in front of him, blade (and mechanical arm) a blur in the air. A human shield—better; that body of his is bulletproof, and with those enhanced eyes his sword can block whatever bullets might strike his exposed flesh or try to sneak past him.

Not quite a dozen, but Jesse counts eight people fanned out in the room, one already on the ground. The problem, of course, is that Genji can’t move or Jesse will be vulnerable to getting shot, and he must be out of those throwing blades he favors because he’s not using them.

So Jesse’s still going to die, just not as soon. Genji’s still deflecting their bullets—Jesus, what’s that sword made of?—but there’ll have to come a moment when he can’t stop every bullet and Jesse will be struck—or Genji will, because he isn’t all metal—

A shadow falls across the doorway.

A resonant crack and one of the soldiers falls. That’s a shotgun report.

Reyes.

He stalks into the room, pulling fire from the seven remaining soldiers. Jesse knows he’s been angry recently—well, for years, really—but this is…more. His face is dark as the thunderclouds outside but his eyes are bright as flames. The bullets riddle him, punching through his head, chest, stomach, and legs, blood exploding onto the wall behind him. But his body hardly jerks, and wisps of black escape from the wounds. Something glimmers inside them. The shots tear into his face, shredding his nose and cheeks, exposing teeth, shattering his skull.

He raises the shotgun and fires.

No wasted shots—would be hard to waste them in a cramped space like this anyway, the shotgun spraying into the soldiers’ unarmored bodies. There’s nowhere to go. Reyes is blocking the exit, Genji planted right beside the opening to the next room. They shouldn’t be shooting at Reyes. It’s obviously not working. But they do anyway, until there’s no one left standing and just nine people dead or dying on the ground.

Reyes jams in a new clip of cartridges and finishes off the ones who are still moving. The muzzle flashes, the shots deafening in the concrete room. Jesse cringes and covers one ear with his free hand.

Reyes looks…bad. His face is ripped up, and dark blood soaks his clothes. When there’s no more movement from the mercenaries he kneels beside one of the corpses—

Genji turns, blocking Jesse’s view. “Are you all right?”

He swallows, pain radiating from his eye, tightening his throat and turning his stomach. “I think—think I’m okay. Just my—just my eye.”

Genji grasps his arm. “We’ll get you to safety.”

Kind of humiliating, if he’s honest with himself. Supposed to be an elite agent and all that. But his eye got shot and it hurts, it fuckin’ hurts—

“McCree.” Reyes now, kneeling in front of him. Whole again like he didn’t just stand in a rain of bullets. “What’s wrong?”

“I think my eye’s gone,” he whispers, embarrassed like a child caught disobeying his parents.

“God damnit, would you stop fucking losing body parts when you’re in the field with me?” Reyes growls. “Listen, can you run?”

Jesse nods, struggling to his feet with Genji’s help. There’ll be more on the way. And there’s flexfoam in the truck. Maybe that’ll stop the—stop all the blood pouring from his empty, broken socket—

“It will be all right,” Genji murmurs at his side. “We’re going to get out.”

Right. They’re going to get out.

Reyes stalks ahead of them, glowering at their flanks, but no one else shows up to get in their way. God damnit. He was almost out before they pinned him. The eye feels swollen now. Even though it’s not there anymore.

The Jeep is stashed in a storage locker a few blocks away, and Jesse climbs inside and curls up in the back of it. Reyes is in the driver’s seat and jams it into gear, the engine rumbling, tires grinding on the broken-up pavement. Genji digs out the first aid kit. “Please lower your hand.”

Jesse obeys with reluctance as Genji shakes the bottle of flexfoam and points the thin red tip at his eye—where his eye used to be, the pale green foam squirting out and filling a hole in his face that wasn’t there before. Jesse squeezes his hands between his thighs so he doesn’t bat Genji away. The flexfoam will help it start healing, he knows that.

“Do you want some painkillers?”

Genji holds up a small, capped syringe. Jesse covers his eye back up shakes his head. “I’m fine—I’m fine, I don’t need ‘em.”

“God damnit, McCree, just take the fucking painkillers!” Reyes snarls from the front. But Genji still waits for Jesse’s permission, and only when given a nod does he flick the cap off and jam the needle into Jesse’s thigh.

The effect is nearly instantaneous, a gentle warmth radiating throughout Jesse’s body. It takes a little longer to reach his eye but it soothes the frantic, prickling pain, and cautiously Jesse lowers his hand—only to clap it back on again when the Jeep jars over a chunk of rubble, terrified for a split-second that everything will fall out of the socket and spill onto his lap.

Someone is grasping his thigh, squeezing gently.  “It will be all right. We will take you back to base. They can fix you there.”

Jesse plants his own hand over Genji’s—the wrong one; his prosthetic arm senses pressure but nothing else so he switches. He’s still got gloves on but he can feel how the metal plates reinforcing Genji’s fingers are cold from the late autumn air but the synthetic flesh beneath is warm. Each bump and jolt of the Jeep makes him think he’s about to fall right apart. But this—Genji’s hand here is holding him together.

Reyes is shouting into his comm in the front seat. Jesse’s vision starts to clear a little, tears drying on his face. Genji gazes at him with steady eyes, the red glow dimmed now outside of combat. An ember smoldering in the dark afternoon. “You will be all right, Jesse,” he murmurs.

For some reason—some unknown, blessed reason—Jesse believes him.

——

The infirmary.

There’s something holding his eye shut. Does he have an eye? The Blackwatch docs didn’t really tell him what they were going to do before they pushed the drugs in and put him under.

“Hey, McCree.”

Jesse turns his head.

A white curtain surrounds them, giving them some privacy. Reyes’s hand rests on his arm. “How are you doing?”

“Hm.” Jesse clears his throat. “Uh…I don’t know. Tired.”

Reyes lets out a long sigh, leaning back in his chair. “They had you under for a long time. The anesthesia’s gonna take a while to wear off.”

“A—a long time?” Jesse gingerly probes his eye—covered in a bulky gauze dressing. “What did they do?”

“Gave you a new eye,” Reyes says. “And god damnit, Shimada, I told you three times to go get some rest.” He reaches behind him and yanks the curtain back.

Genji is there, crouched on the next bed, cringing. “I apologize, Commander. I was…concerned.”

“Yeah, I fucking gathered,” Reyes shoots back. “You know, Stockman’s really not big on all this concern business. Just the opposite, actually.”

“I—I am sorry.” He hops off the bed—

“No, I didn’t say that.” Reyes rises slowly, rubbing his face. “Just…be careful. You got that?”

“Yes!” Genji straightens. “Understood, Commander!”

“Christ,” Reyes mutters. “Stockman wanted to see me so I’m gonna go deal with that. McCree, I’ll come check on you later.”

“Thanks, boss,” Jesse says quietly.

Then Reyes leaves the infirmary and Genji sits down in his chair.

For a moment they don’t say anything—Jesse thinks it’s a moment; he’s not feeling too sharp right now. Then Genji says, “I’m sorry.”

Jesse snorts. “You ain’t got nothing to be sorry for. Honestly, I’m surprised I’ve only lost an arm by this point. You know the kind of missions they send us on.”

“No, I—I’m sorry about the doctors. They should have asked you.”

Oh.

“Do you know what they did to me?” Jesse asks.

Genji shifts, putting his heels up on the crossbar of the chair, jamming his hands between his knees. “They put in an electronic eye and…enhanced your optic nerve and part of your brain.”

Jesse stares. “They did something to my brain?”

“Only the part that is involved with sight. I believe.”

“I didn’t want that,” he blurts out.

Genji clasps his hands together, one metal, one flesh. “Yes. I…I am sorry.”

Jesse realizes he doesn’t know a whole lot about his fellow operative and that he might have just said something real stupid. “Uh.” That’s not a whole lot better. “So when you got…you know.” Batting a thousand. “When you got—“

“When they made me this body,” Genji interrupts. “What about it?”

“Did you get any, you know. Input?”

Genji smiles a little at his knees. “No. I was not really in a state of mind to be making decisions like that.”

“But did they ask you?”

“I…no.”

“Well, that’s some bullshit.” Jesse struggles to sit up, grasping the bed railing. His body feels so damn heavy. “It’s your body. They should have asked.”

Genji shrugs. “It does not matter anymore. It is done.”

The frustrating thing is he’s probably right. That’s the body he’s got now, and it’s a fucking complicated one. Putting him in a new body would probably be dangerous. Jesse takes a good look at him for the first time in…ever, maybe, the fine threading of the synthetic muscle, the faint glow beneath the vestigial ports where they modified away the tubes and wires that used to be sticking out of him. “Would you change anything?” Jesse asks. “About your body, I mean. If you could.”

Genji shrugs. “I have not given it much thought. I suppose…” He spreads his hands in front of him as if comparing them side by side. “It is very good for stealing and killing and all of the things we do here. I only wish it were good for other things as well.”

Jesse has caught sight of the side table by now and asks, “Hey, so I know you said you can’t eat during maintenance, but, I mean—can you eat? When you’re not getting zapped?”

“Repaired. And yes, I can. The food is simply destroyed after I swallow it.”

“Good.” Jesse jerks his head. “Because I sure as hell can’t eat all that Jello by myself.”

There’s a bilayer of Jello cups sitting on the table in red, green, and orange. Genji grins. “I will of course do my best to assist you.”

There’s only one spoon so they alternate. It might be the painkillers but Jesse at one point starts laughing uncontrollably at the way the Jello wobbles when he scoops it out, and Genji is baffled but laughs right along, bubbly and light.

In a little while the doctor comes in to check on him with Reyes on her tail so Genji rises and heads for the door. The doctor is saying something but Jesse’s not really listening. Behind Reyes Genji lingers at the door and waves with his human hand. Jesse lifts his own human hand and waves right back.

——

He’s at the shooting range.

His standard-issue sidearm is at his hip, holstered. His revolver is in hand.

Targets are at forty yards. Jesse frowns at the control panel, reaches up and taps. The targets glide back on their tracks. Fifty yards. Sixty.

“How are you?”

Jesse turns. Genji steps cautiously through the door. “Fine,” Jesse tells him.

“Ah. Then…it does not hurt anymore?”

He rubs his mechanical eye. “It’s…not too bad.” The surgery was four weeks ago yesterday. The soreness is gone, but the burning’s still there. Nerve pain, the doctor said. She expects it to stay. “What’re you doing here? Workin’ on your shooting?”

It’s a joke. Genji has a distaste for guns and avoids practicing with them as a rule. He waves his hand. “No, I just—I was…I wanted to see how you were recovering.”

“Oh.” Jesse stares for a second, then blinks. “Uh. That’s mighty kind of you.”

Genji shrugs. “You checked on me when I was undergoing maintenance. I am trying to repay your kindness.”

“You ain’t gotta repay nothing. Any decent person woulda done the same thing.”

“No one else did,” Genji answers.

Jesse doesn’t really know what to say to that. The target is at a hundred yards now. He can hit a hundred yards if he takes a second to aim, and he lifts the revolver—

—and fires.

He had the shot. Knew he had it, somehow. The screen shows a perfect hit, right in the target’s head. Jesse frowns, looking down at his gun, his fingers curled around the grip. How did he…

The eye. “A good shot,” Genji observes.

Nervous suddenly, Jesse taps the control panel again. The targets recede. A hundred and ten yards. A hundred and twenty. A hundred and thirty. All the way back on their track until they hit the rear wall. Maximum range. Two hundred yards. Jesse exhales, raises the revolver, sights down the barrel. No instant pull of the trigger this time, and he lines up the shot and squeezes—

A tiny twitch of muscle, his wrist tightening minutely just as the trigger clicks. That wasn’t him. Again the screen shows a bullet hole square in the center of the target’s forehead.

Jesse lowers the revolver. “Oh,” he mumbles.

Genji comes up beside him and rests his metal hand on Jesse’s metal arm. “You’ll get used to it.”