#genji smashed to pieces behind her

[chronal-anomaly]

Who's gonna write a post doomfist-fight thread with me 🔫

[nitewrighter]

First Meeting of Genji and Tracer maybe?

I haven’t forgotten all the kiss prompts but I wanted to gear-shift to something a little more punchy!

-------

“I don’t know about this…” Genji mindlessly brushed his fingers along the handle of Ryū-Ichimonji as he walked down the hall, “I’ve never really thought of myself as a teacher...”

“You said you wanted to get off the bench,” Reyes walked alongside him, both hands in the mono-pocket of his hoodie. He had a way of carrying himself that made it easy for the eye to scan past him, despite being head of Blackwatch, but Genji drew the eye, bare skin and metal, and stark black, white and red prosthetics, and so in their walk virtually all Overwatch staff in the hallway gave them an unnaturally wide berth, first a natural reaction to Genji’s appearance, then a flinching recognition of Reyes. “This is the best Jack and I can do for you,” Reyes went on, “Besides, she was in the RAF before this, so it’s not like she’s coming into this with no combat knowledge.”

‘The best Jack and I can do for you,’ Genji glanced away from Reyes, his eyes narrowing in thought, So you show Jack one hand with me, while keeping the other behind your back with McCree. I’m the ‘accountability’ agent, but McCree and Moira... they’re still Blackwatch. They’re still working. His ‘real’ agents. Genji wondered where McCree was now. Was it an ‘errand’ this time or a ‘vacation?’ It wasn’t as if it was sanctioned by Jack either way, but it wasn’t like Jack would look too closely or question it so long as the cyborg ninja was accounted for. 

“Hey,” Reyes spoke and Genji was forced to pull himself out of his bristling silence, “Being a part of Overwatch isn’t just cutting through shit with a sword. You have to show you can work with people, and not just Blackwatch.” Reyes gave a short snort, “Though, let’s be real, saying you worked with Blackwatch is a bit of a stretch.”

Genji kept his eyes fixed away sullenly. “So she’s not the only one learning, here,” he mused. 

“Now you’re getting it,” said Reyes, smiling.

“You don’t know when Blackwatch’s suspension is ending, do you?” Genji’s voice was level but it wiped the smile from Reyes’s face in an instant. 

“Can’t say that I do,” Reyes flicked his own eyes forward, down the hall, “But that doesn’t mean I’m sitting on my hands, Shimada. You can believe me when I say I’m working on ways to get you back out there, because Talon’s only going to get bolder while we’re wrapping ourselves in red tape. But you have to show me, Jack, and all these UN pearl-clutchers you can adapt. Do you understand?”

“Mm,” Genji gave a single nod as they exited two automatic doors out to the training area, where a cluster of training bots where doddering around in various directions.

“Had ‘em cue up your usual warm-up,” said Reyes, putting his hands on his hips, “Think benchwarming got you soft?”

Genji gave a short scoff before drawing Ryū-Ichimonji from his back, but Reyes could hear the smile in his breath beneath his faceplate.

----

“Wow... Blackwatch!” Tracer’s eyes were wide as Mercy and Winston stood next to her in the elevator, “I heard all about the--I mean, everyone heard about Venice but--blimey! Are we sure it’s all right?” 

“We’re approaching this as a sort of... rehabilitation from suspension,” said Mercy, “And don’t worry, I’m very well-acquainted with your future teacher and I can assure you that Genji Shimada holds himself to a very high standard as an agent.” 

“I know that but....I don’t know if I’m cut out for any of that ninja stuff,” Trace glanced down at the chronal accelerator glowing in her chest, “This thing doesn’t exactly make it ea--easy to sneak around.” A brief ripple of glowing blue chronal feedback bloomed around her on the word ‘easy’ and her shoulders bunched up self-consciously, “Sometimes I don’t know if I can pull off that... speed-up thing I did back with the prototypes...”

“The accelerator reacts to your nervous system,” Winston chimed in, “We can worry about safely discharging the chronal distortion later, but it’s perfectly safe and stable as it is right now! All you need to worry about is keeping a cool head!”

“Cool head,” Tracer said firmly, “Right.”

“But if anything feels wrong you should tell us immediately,” Mercy quickly added.

“Gotcha, gotcha,” said Tracer, nodding. The three of them stood in a nervous, excited silence for a few seconds.

“Is he nice?” Tracer asked, looking at Mercy, “I mean, don’t get me wrong, I can deal with the ‘tough love’ types, but I guess I’m just not really sure what to expect with all this Blackwatch stuff...”

“Oh he’s wonderful,” said Mercy beaming as the elevator dinged and the doors opened, “And I think, while both your situations are very unique, he’ll definitely understand what you’re going through. He’s basically had to re-learn how to coordinate his body, too!”

Tracer’s shoulders slumped with some reassurance as they stepped out into the open air of the training area, “Well that’s a relief,” she said, with a lopsided smile.

“Oh yes. He’ll be a great teacher. He’s patient, and attentive, and really quite funny once you get to know him, and he’s very---”

Mercy was cut off by a snarling, roaring, cybernetically warbling scream as a red, white, and black blur rushed past them on the training grounds. Tracer, Winston, and Mercy watched in some combination of awe and terror as Genji Shimada tore through a batch of training bots like a hurricane. 

“Very--um...” Mercy’s words turned halting as Genji dove and slid under one bot and became a whirlwind of blades and kicks, slicing up the training bots closing in on him, before sending the poor training bot he had dived under into the air then springing into the air himself. His wires whipped around him as he twisted in the air, sending the training bot flying back with a kick that made it shatter against a wall. 

“Very--” Mercy tried to regain her composure and speak quickly but winced as she was cut off again by the screech and clatter of metal, the loud scream of a broken vocal box on one of the training bots as Genji jammed both sword and wakizashi into it before ripping it outward and rendering the training bot an explosion of broken metal parts. Mercy looked sharply over to Tracer, whose mouth was hanging open in a petrified gawk.

“He’s very...” Mercy was trying to eke words out of herself as Genji sliced off the head of one training bot with his sword then stabbed it through with his wakizashi before pivoting and smashing another training bot’s head with the skewered head of its compatriot. “...enthusiastic?”

Genji’s breaths were ragged and his forearms were quaking with how hard his hands were gripping his sword and wakizashi, surrounded by the sparking broken bits of training bots, his shoulders rising and falling with his breaths. Tracer, Winston, and Mercy all flinched to attention at the sound of clapping next to them and looked to their right to see Gabriel Reyes stick his thumb and forefinger in his mouth and whistle shrilly before clapping some more.

“Attaboy, Genji! Still got it!” Reyes called out to Genji and Genji seemed to pull himself out of a blood-drunk haze (or at least the robot-destroying equivalent of a blood-drunk haze), looking over his shoulder and then flinching to awkward attention himself as he noticed Reyes was now accompanied by Mercy, the gorilla, and... the newbie. 

His student.

Who looked about ready to either throw up or piss herself or both from what she had just seen him do.

Reyes was still clapping and smiling obnoxiously, Genji awkwardly lifted his wakizashi (smaller sword was less threatening, right?) and gave a small wave.

“Uh... yo,” he said.

“Er--excellent form, Genji!” Mercy raised her voice so he could hear her but it came out as a squawk, her desperation to try and diffuse the situation obvious in every intonation, “Very... efficient!” She had that ‘everything is going wrong but for the love of god be strong, Angela’ deliriously forced smile on her face, which he had seen both at 3 AM in the lab and at press conferences going down in flames.

“Thank you?” said Genji, sheathing both his sword and moving to walk toward them but then stumbling over a piece of broken training bot. He quickly recovered, straightened himself up to full height and walked briskly over to them before giving a stiff bow.

“So glad you could join us, Oxton,” said Reyes, turning to look at Tracer, his hands on his hips.

“Reyes?” Mercy’s voice was steel wire-tight, “May we speak?”

“Sure, Ange, what--” Reyes started but Mercy grabbed him by the loose sleeve of the hoodie and practically dragged him through the doors of the training area’s control room.

“Wait, shouldn’t we--” Tracer started feebly after them but the steel doors of the room slammed behind them. Tracer, Genji, and Winston all vaguely made out the muffled sounds of Mercy yelling at Reyes on the other side of the doors. 

“What were you thinking?! What was that?!”

“What are you yelling at me for? I just thought he should get a little warmed up and the newbie should get some idea of--”

“Some idea of what?! We’ve only barely scratched the surface of the effects the chronal disassociation is having on her physical abilities and you’re throwing up these warzones like---”

“Hey, I just set up his usual training bot session, Doc, you got a problem with Genji’s style, you take that up with him--”

“I don’t have a problem with Genji’s ‘style’--! I--Don’t act like you don’t know what you’re doing---! Is this some other play?! Are you--”

Winston cleared his throat. “We should probably...”

“Right..” said Tracer a little sheepishly.

The three of them edged away from the steel doors. Genji glanced over at Tracer, who didn’t seem to know whether to even look at him as they walked themselves out of earshot of the argument.

“So you’re the new recruit from the flight program,” said Genji, folding his arms and trying to sound as casual as possible.

“Ah...y-yeah!” Tracer blurted out. She cleared her throat and stuck her hand out, “Lena Oxton! Callsign Tracer! Reporting for du--” blue light suddenly flared brightly around her from the glowing object on her chest and she seemed to catch herself, clearing her throat, “er... reporting for duty,” she said extending her hand again, which had somehow jerked back to her side with the blue glow.

Genji moved to extend his organic hand, found that that would be awkward with the hand Tracer had chosen to shake with, then hesitantly extended his prosthetic. She shook his hand so hard it jostled up his whole arm before she caught herself and withdrew her hands to her side, clearing her throat.

“Ah so that’s...” Genji started.

“Yeah it’s a thing,” said Tracer, glancing down.

“Well...” Genji gestured up and down himself, “This... is also a thing.”

“I can see that,” said Tracer with a bit of a nervous giggle. They both gave a glance to Winston. 

“Oh!” Winston perked up and started unconsciously signing as he spoke, “I don’t think we’ve been properly introduced. Winston. I’ll be on the science team overseeing Tracer’s condition with the chronal accelerator. Along with Doctor Ziegler. So we’ll be watching while you’re training together!”

“I see,” said Genji, “And you’re...”

“From the moon,” said Winston.

“From the moon,” Genji repeated, both of them silently agreeing that they didn’t have to go into the ‘gorilla’ part of things. He glanced back at Tracer. “Look--” Genji started but then caught himself, “I--if I scared you back there...”

“You didn’t scare me!” Tracer blurted out.

Both Genji and Winston gave her steady looks and Tracer stiffened her shoulders slightly, “I mean... y’know it’s... nothing I can’t handle. Really!” she put her hands on her hips and huffed, “You’re pretty tame compared to some of the things I’ve seen,” she said. She was trying to inject an adventurous sense of swagger into her voice, but her youth undermined a lot of that. 

Genji tilted his head slightly, studying her, and she made eye contact but didn’t sustain it for too long. He was used to that at this point. The red eyes were off-putting for a lot of people, but then his eyes flicked to Winston, then down at the chronal accelerator glowing in Tracer’s chest. There was something simultaneously familiar and alienating standing in their presence, and hearing the faint muffled sounds of Ziegler and Reyes arguing on the other side of the door, there was a spark of kinship between the three of them. Three people who wouldn’t have any place in the world without Overwatch.

“So how do we start?” said Tracer.

“Start?” said Genji, “Now?”

“Well, Doctor Z said you already went through all this stuff to re-learn coordination with all your...” Tracer gestured up and down at him, “Whatnot. And I figure, the sooner for me, the better, right? So lesson one, Teach! Let’s hear it!”

“Uh...” Genji rubbed the back of his head.

“Perhaps you could begin with assessment?” Winston suggested, “Establish what level of combat training Tracer should start with?”

The fastest way to do that is sparring, Genji thought and he got a horrifying mental image of Ziegler and Reyes emerging from their argument in the control room only to walk in on him punching Morrison’s beloved time-hopping newbie in the face.

“The first step to training is.... establishing the training space!” Genji blurted out. He vaguely remembered some lectures from his Shimada clan trainers indicating something similar, but the force that propelled those words from his mouth were more of the ‘70% panic’ variety.

“Establishing the training ground?” Tracer tilted her head.

“You can’t train in a cluttered space,” Genji pointed at the countless broken bits of training bots strewn across the training grounds, “You can start by cleaning those up.”

“...isn’t that your mess?” said Tracer.

“Who’s the teacher here?” said Genji, folding his arms.

“Right! Of course! Sorry!” said Tracer with a sharp salute before zipping off in a blue streak. Genji flinched hard at how inhumanly fast she moved and she seemed to catch herself as well, skidding to a halt on her heels. “Winston!” she called out excitedly, “Did you see that!? I did the thing! I did the speedy thing again!! I didn’t even think about it!! You’re such a good teacher, Genji!”

“I know,” said Genji, trying to look off stoically as Tracer zipped around the training grounds, picking up broken training bot bits and laughing between flashes of blue light.

“...you don’t know what ‘the speedy thing’ is, do you?” said Winston, very quietly.

“No,” Genji replied, also very quietly.

“You’re making this up as you go along,” Winston said flatly.

“It’s called ‘adapting,’” said Genji. He could still feel Winston’s eyes on him, skeptical. “I can adapt,” Genji said, mostly to himself as Tracer threw a bunch of training bot parts into a recycling bin with a loud clatter.

[sp00kworm]

Pyramid God (Ra!Zenyatta x Nomad!Genji [Genyatta])

ARCHIVE OF OUR OWN LINK

Rating: Teen

Summary: 

 Deep within the dunes of the desert, the tale of an ancient Light Wielder civilization brings Genji into the heart of a sandstorm. Searching for the healing powers of the fable, his enchanted legs carry him on the last push of his journey. His dragon spites his reasoning, begging for revenge and blood against his brother. The man is broken and lost, looking for the only man that can heal his broken soul and tortured mind. He wishes to be whole.

~~

The desert was as vast as it was endless. The hot sands once would have scorched his feet, even through the thick soles of his shoes. Now he didn’t feel them, his enchanted limbs never tiring as he walked through the endless mounds of sand. The dune was as tall as the ancient trees back home, yet much harder to climb, the sand slipping beneath his feet as he tried to go over the lip. Genji slid down the other side, leaned back as sand sprayed over his wrapped clothing and headgear. He came to the bottom of the dune with a small huff, glad for the cloth over his face as the wind whipped sand into the air. It was still far too warm to be in layers of clothes, but otherwise he would be inhaling sand with every breath. Hot wind whipped the clothing away from his swords, revealing the wakizashi blade at the base of his back and the ōdachi strapped over his shoulders. Ryu-Ichimonji, the sword on his back, was all that he had left to tie him to his family.

The beast that was connected to the blade rumbled softly to him, the tattoo on his back flaring with the itch he was now used to.

“Genji…We have been walking for a week now, and your water ran out yesterday. Just what are we looking for in this wasteland?” The beast growled, the shiver that ran through Genji felt like the dragon was curling and slithering up his spine.

“There’s a civilization nearby. It is said their leader has the power of light itself.” Genji held onto his sash, looking at the sand with a gasp as the ground began to move beneath him. The sand whirled in strange patterns, and Genji blinked behind his goggles, watching the sand part into glyphs. He gasped again as the something crashed into him, sending him sprawling onto his back, his sword’s sheath digging into his back.

“I told you this was a fool’s errand, child!” His dragon growled spitefully.

Genji drew his wakizashi and slashed blindly. The blade rang in his hand, making him grit his teeth as it smashed against an unknown barrier. He peered upwards through the sandstorm, seeing an impenetrable barrier of golden light. He could see through it, the endless sand of the desert forming into buildings around an oasis, a palace along side the watering hole.

“You may have been right, little warrior. That is a civilization.” His dragon admitted gruffly.

Genji looked at the barrier and tapped the end of his wakizashi against it again, feeling the same teeth shaking power run up his arm, “It’s a protected civilization. I can’t get through this without feeling like my muscles are being torn from my bones.”

“Then we may have to do something drastic… Genji! Behind you, quickly!”

With a twist, Genji drew his wakizashi and flicked his wrist lightning fast, feeling the projectiles fly back towards their owner. He drew his shurikens, sending a fan towards the attacker in the sand, grunting as he landed with a roll. Sand whipped his wraps backwards and Genji looked into the storm as a light shinned behind him.

“Halt, or you will be immobilised.” A woman’s voice sounded through the sand, and Genji watched some small devices deploy at his feet. The woman advanced towards him, light structures molded between her palms, blue runs glowing up one of her arms. She was tanned and deadly beautiful, covered in blue, gold and white silks, her headpiece with a blue light visor that hid her eyes, “Those sentries will paralyze you on my command, traveller.” She moved her rune covered arm by her side and projected a small, blue barrier in front of herself.

“You don’t seem to be giving me much of a choice.” Genji muttered through his mask, looking at the technology in front of him warily before he moved to stand, holding his palms up in surrender.

She chuckled at him and smirked, “A wise decision.” Her hands moved, crafting another creation of light before a whirring piece of technology stood before him, the sentries vanishing, but her barrier wrapped around her, still firmly in place.

“Where does this lead? Are you not going to take me as a prisoner?” Genji asked as she gestured towards the portal.

“Trust me…You are my captive, traveller.” She flicked her wrist, forming light made shackles around his hands, “I am taking you before the Pharaoh. He will decide your fate.” Genji sighed and stepped into the blue light, grunting as they landed in a cool room.

The room was made of marble, finely polished and clean, purpose built to allow for the insides to remain cool despite the burning sun outside. Genji was still confined to his clothes, looking through his eyepieces at the fine marble and vases with plants and flowers. The furniture was laced with gold in the wood, the cushions stuffed with feathers and plump. It screamed of royalty, and Genji looked around, remembering the vast wealth he had also been born into and lived with before his brother’s betrayal.

“Stop gawking, traveller. It is unbecoming and rude.” The woman behind him hissed as he looked at the great drapes over the partitions between rooms. The heavy curtains were a beautiful blue silk, stitched onto a heavier fabric. They were very fine.

“I am admiring your master’s home…” He twisted his wrist, “I don’t believe you introduced yourself.”

“Satya.” She responded with a clipped tone, pressing him through a partition before she handed him to a man in a mask and told them to wait. The mask of Anubis stared down at him, the man beneath the mask a great deal taller than him and armed with a long spear. Better to see who was on the other side of the tall wooden doors than to be skewered on the end of the guard’s spear.

Satya returned with a hum, dismissing the guard before she pushed Genji through the doors and into a small room. There was no throne, only a man sat meditating, hovering over a cushion. His back was turned, but dark skin was laid bare, with only a baggy pair of trousers covering his bottom half. He wore soft leather shoes and a great head gear. Mala span and chimed around his neck before he turned, landing on the cushion softly before the mask turned. The image of Ra peered into his soul, the piercing eyes of the sun god looking directly into Genji’s own. He felt himself fall to his knees before the man, reaching shakily to draw his headdresses away, revealing his scarred face to the man-made God before him.

Ra’s head tilted before he spoke, voice a beautiful lilting melody around the spinning orbs, “I sense great discord within you.” He whispered softly, beckoning Genji closer. Satya moved to protest but a raised hand stopped her advance, “Come. I need to see your face more clearly.”

Genji walked slowly, looking at the golden bird head with a slightly parted mouth, “Are you the light wielder they speak of?” He asked as he took the steps to the man’s cushion. His hands were unbound, and he collapsed at the top step as a wonderous warmth enveloped him.

“The light-wielder?” A metallic laugh sounded through the mask before the man reached to cup Genji’s cheek, stroking his finger’s over the scars.

The tough tissue suddenly felt less painful, warmed and softened by Ra’s simple touch, burning away his aches and pains with gentle movements.

“I am one with the Iris, and so it blesses me with light. The power to heal and to do good.” The man’s fingers trailed over his face gently, coaxing heat and feeling back into his battle worn face. They touched his lips and he could no longer feel the pain of dehydration. Genjis’ enchanted limbs felt weak, “You’re the one I’m looking for.” He swallowed as he looked at the red eyes of the bird mask, “They say you can heal anything and anyone…I want you to heal my soul.” He confessed, on his knees, his eyes burning with tears.

The mask tilted before the fingers left his face, “Your soul?” He parroted before gently tugging Genji closer, looking at the man’s brown orbs, “You are burdened with great pain, traveller, but not all of it is hatred. I can still feel hope and goodness within you.” A palm pressed over his heart, feeling the skin there as well.

Genji gasped at the warmth cradling him, “My body is not my own, Sun God. My mind is broken, and I am…I am…” He choked on a sob before the man, “I am lost!” He cried, feeling tears roll down his cheeks as a multitude of hands came to caress and hold him. Genji’s mouth opened wider as arms made of light came to hold him from the man’s body, healing his sorrow slowly.

“My name is Zenyatta, Genji, and I will heal your broken soul.”

The mask disappeared and Genji cried as he looked upon the dark skin of the pharaoh, a smile painted on his face, blue tattooed dots on his forehead glowing with radiant light.

“You and your dragon are safe here. You will be healed in the light of the iris.”

[chisie12]

Gency Week Day 5: Hyssops/Sacrifice

Day 5: The Dinner, part 1

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19071907/chapters/45677566

That night felt particularly cold, colder than the nights I’ve suffered through before. Was it because I found out about Angela and Jack? With a light leap, I gripped onto a window ledge and hauled myself up. Swiftly and silently, I scaled up the wall using the windows whilst avoiding those whose lights were on. Upon reaching my room, I tapped against the glass at its corner, causing it to slightly dislodge. Then carefully and slowly, I removed it and set it back once I slithered back into my room. The presence of the four walls relaxed my nerves and I draped the removed scarf across my chair. On the table before it was a few things lying around: a couple pieces of transparent film paper, a roll of white glue stick, a pair of scissors and a capped pen. Small traces of cut dried stems scattered around the stationery. I stared at it, feeling forlorn at the sight.

Would she like it, I wonder? Or would she throw it away? Now that she’s got Jack.

And forgotten about you. Thrown aside like a dirty rag.

I ignored the voice in my head and sat onto my bed with a sigh. I dropped my forehead onto clasped fingers, the digits clawing and squeezing harder with every second. Did I truly wanted to let go of her? I lifted my head and rested my chin upon my thumbs. Agony crossed my features at the mere thought of cutting all contact with her. But if I were to really let her go, that would probably have to be my first course of action. I’d have to remove all means to contact her, remove all the pictures we took (even if they were only a rare one or two), but how could I remove the memories that we shared? I pass by her newly occupied office – who’s sorely not Angela – everyday. Every wall I passed, I can see her smile and wave as she greeted me good morning, with the coffee and papers in hand. Every month I’d go for my check-ups, just so she could perform the tests and ensure none of my cybernetics parts were malfunctioning. Which did beg the question, was I really functioning well?

I flexed my arms, feeling the slight drag in my robotic one compared to the one of flesh, and I frowned. Standing up, I stretched and sensed each part of my body, noticing even more of an action lag in my movements.

“Ha!” I tested a straight punch. The movement felt weird, definitely slower than before even though the power was there. Relaxing my stance, I stared at my metal fingers, clenching and unclenching them. The joints felt stiff and hard, and yet another sigh escaped my lips as I dropped to lay supine upon my bed.

‘I guess I’m really not functioning at a 100%.’ I thought bitterly.

It sucked, really, but there was nothing I could do. No one else was better than her in the field, and I haven’t been able to contact Winston either. I’d ask Lena, but I’m sure she hasn’t been able to too. Just where had that scientist of a monkey gone to?

‘And I wish I could ask Angela, but she’d probably scold me and rebut my words.’ I bitterly smiled.

Turning onto my side, I stared into space, forgetting the fact that I hadn’t had dinner or anything to drink in the past few hours. I didn’t know what to think. The blank state of my mind was oddly soothing; Nothing to think about, nothing to worry about.

Maybe I could just let this be. Allow my functions to just slowly deteriorate and go somewhere – maybe find Zen again – and just retire there. Surrounded by peace and tranquillity. That did sound good.

As I turned onto my other side, I caught a glimpse of the opened letter on my bedside table.

‘I wonder if the whole team is going for it.’

The night came and went, and I woke up to the sunlight streaming onto my face. Groaning, I laid on my back and covered my eyes with my arm. There weren’t any missions for me to go on – at least not yet – and I hadn’t planned on doing anything else for the day. For the past four months, when I weren’t on a mission, I was working away at a surprise for Angela, but now knowing that she was with Jack, it somehow didn’t feel right giving it to her, yet at the same time, I didn’t want to keep it.

I peeked an eye open, staring at the wall before me with my arm still cover my face. I felt lost, confused.

‘What do I do now?’

Such an odd feeling, having accomplished something but not knowing what to do next. I slaved away to complete the gift, thinking that even if she forgot, we could always make new ones. Memories were memories, they were in the past, and the person I could spend time with in the present was a hell of a lot more important.

Then why didn’t you visit her in the past few weeks?

Because... because I...

“Ugh,” I slowly rolled to sit up while pressing on my temple. Yeah, I didn’t go and visit her. But I always went to see her.

Every day, not a time passed where I wondered how she was. Every day, I allowed my heart to feel the pain of seeing her smile but it’s not for me, and I let it break in the few times Jack came to see her. Why didn’t I fight? Why did I walk away?

I laughed sadly at myself, feeling my eyes suddenly well up. My body shuddered and I pulled my limbs close as I curled up as small as I possibly could. I fisted the blanket, tugging it higher to cover my face, as if no one could see me when I did that. I failed to hear the pitter-patter of the rain outside.

Seriously, I’m such an idiot. I should have stepped forward instead of running away. Should have given myself a chance. But why? Why did I walk away?

Because... if I truly love her, I can let her go.

“Yo, Genji. Are you in there?” A deep voice came muffled from my door.

Groaning, I glared at the door. “Go away, Jesse. I want to sleep.”

“Nope, commander is calling for us. We got to go.”

Cursing under my breath, I sluggishly stood up and went to my cybernetic suit, or at least the rest of it. “I’m coming.”

~*~*~

Her head pounded terribly like someone was repeatedly, unmusically smashing hard on her skull like a drum.

‘It feels like I drank 5 bottles of straight vodka on an empty stomach...’ Angela groaned while she pushed herself onto her elbows.

The alarm on her phone went off, constantly beeping like the useful annoyance it was. Roughly dismissing it, she begrudgingly slid her legs off the bed. Her toes touched the cold hard flooring, feeling the chill wafting against the floorboards from the rainy night. With a shiver, she got to her feet and hurriedly got herself ready. Another new day. Another day her cafe was open.

After returning home last night, she had crashed straight onto her bed, allowing the night to swallow her whole. Having slept in the clothes she wore out yesterday, they still retained the odour of food. It was a little strong and a little smelly. She grimaced at the oil stains on her sleeves, the faint traces of a myriad of sauces on her skirt. This was probably the part of the job she didn’t fancy as much, and now that she had slept on her bed with this... Looked like she had another chore to do today.

Time at the cafe was business as usual. Nothing really out of the ordinary, well, except for that –

“Whose bag is that, Mei?” Angela inquired when she finally spotted an unknown object hidden away underneath the counter and far behind the tools they kept.

“Huh?” Mei looked up from the cashier after the customer left. Upon seeing the brown paper bag, she turned her eyes up as she tried to remember. “Oh, that’s right. Genji dropped by yesterday after you left. He asked if he could leave the bag here and I said yes.” She watched Angela’s reaction closely. Would she be upset? Would she be sad?

Yet, all the blonde said was: “Oh.”

Mei: ...

Angela left the bag back where it was without even opening it. She didn’t ask anything or said anything else. Instead, she went back to work as though nothing had happened. Mei scrunched up her eyebrows. Just what was...

“Good afternoon! Could I please get a Matcha Frappuccino, please?” A customer’s sudden arrival surprised Mei out of her thoughts.

With the toothy smile and clear voice, she replied, “Yes, sure! It won't take long.” And off she went to work her magic.

This was how the days passed, sometimes with the occasional appearance of Junkrat or Jack in the cafe, even Jesse and Lena would visit, but that one man (yes, she considered him a man) never appeared. She saw neither hair nor hide of the man. When she asked Jesse or Lena about him, they’d vaguely answer her and avoid the sensitive topic. Did he not want to see her? Disappointment coursed through her veins, stacking each day to the point she thought he hated her, because what man would stay with the woman he liked who defended another man before him? Even the revelation left a bitter taste on her tongue once she realised how unreasonable she might have been. She could have taken it slow, gently getting in between them and breaking up the fight.

‘Why were they fighting though?’ She wondered more than once. She never asked at that point of time and now might be a tad too late as well.

If only she had spoken softly that day, then maybe she wouldn’t have chased him away. This past week, she found herself hoping more and more that the man would visit and order the regular green tea like he normally –

And the second revelation hit her hard. Oh, Gods, she was an idiot. An inconsiderate, insensitive. Idiot.

What else were there? What else?

Her heart couldn’t take this anymore. How much more did she hurt the guy? It wasn’t even a gradual hurt, a gradual sinking of pain and aches, but a downright slap in the face. Twice.

“Of course you’d be protective over your knight in shining armor. Isn’t he just the greatest?"

“The perfect American poster boy. Perfect for you.”

She squeezed her eyes shut when she entered the kitchen, dropping the tray onto the metal countertop. Genji’s words resounded loud and clear in her mind, and she could feel the sting in his words, the hidden agony lacing the tone. The words echoed mercilessly, slowly building up until the sheer ache gripped at the throat, choking her. Forcing her breaths to steady, she tried to focus on the food in her hands but her breathing became shallow and her head began to terribly hurt.

"I mean like, in the field of prosthesis, people are working to understand, create and improve artificial limbs to main normal body functions even after the loss of limbs. I even saw that a child using her new robotic arm for the first time and it worked perfect! Isn't that amazing? The nerves must have…"

"Science and technology have come so far! I'm sure that ordinary people can afford this in the future too!"

She took a sharp inhale at the sudden rush of memory invading her brain. Unlike the one before, this one was clear, vivid as though she was watching an episode.

She watched how the Angela in the memory continued babbling on and on about a scientific topic that she couldn’t fathom, and how Genji silently listened and paid attention. He continued eating as he did, but when she saw him quietly nudge her hand so that she’d eat, something got lodged in her throat.

“Angela?” One of her kitchen staff called out warily.

Shaking her head, Angela quickly left the kitchen through the back door and closed it behind her. She slid down with her back against it shakily until she dropped onto the ground. Covering her eyes with her palms, the memory went on as a patch of wetness covered her sleeves.

This time she watched as the past Angela locked the door and gently set a sleeping Genji on her lap. Her fingers combed through his hair and she could feel the phantom senses in reality. They were smooth and soft, and it brought a sense of comfort to run her fingers through his hair. Sometimes she’d massage his scalp, but she didn’t miss each look of endearment the past Angela would give the young man.

The immense love past Angela had for Genji began to well up inside, bubbling in the deepest parts of her heart. The emotion coursed through her veins, warming her body and chasing the chill of the pattering drizzle outside the cafe away.

But it didn’t end there.

The older memories, of those in the battlefield, of those in the labs, started rushing in. They were all only memories with Genji, of the times she smiled at him and wished him well on missions, of those times she’d heal him during said missions, or when he’d protect her as she healed the team, but it was the times he’d sit through her babble and drink her coffee – laced with alcohol oh gosh – that really got her. Never once in those memories did he complain. He always paid attention and loved her the way she was, goofy nerd and all.

“Angela? Angela! Where are you?” Mei’s worried voice drifted over from behind and she heard footsteps near the door. Mei knocked before trying to open the door, only to find it locked. “Are you out there? It’s raining!”

Angela shot to her feet in a panic as she hastily wiped the tears away. “I'm alright! Just needed some air!”

Mei was sceptical, having heard the sob and sniffle in the blonde’s voice. “Alright. Just take your time. I got this.”

“I'll be out soon.” Angela waited until Mei walked away before setting her head against the door. The eaves overhead blocked out the rain, so she wasn’t entirely drenched, but as she rubbed her arms to warm herself up, she couldn’t help reminiscing about the memories that flooded her mind.

‘I was that in love with him?’ Angela looked up into the rain. ‘Then why weren’t we together?’

Patting her cheeks, she breathed in the cold, rainy air and wiped the tear stains away. With one last look at the rain, she turned around and unlocked the door. It was weird. Extremely weird. But she didn’t so lonely after that, especially since the rain didn’t let up the whole day.

She liked to think that he was there, in the rain, with her. Because after all, two lovers in the rain didn’t need an umbrella.

And so, the days then came and went. Angela didn’t treat Jack any different, except that now she kept a distance from him. Not because she regained feelings for Genji no, but she couldn’t bring herself to trust him anymore. From the memories she managed to recover, she could tell that she was an agent before, better known as Mercy on the field too.

‘Where are my staff and blaster?’ Angela eyed Jack from the corner of her eyes. Once doubt was seeded within you, it will spread like venom and it was futile to remove it. It can be minimised, yes, but there was no way, the person would fully trust in you again. After all, once bitten, twice shy.

When Friday the 13th came, Angela was already panicking and clucking like a frightened hen. The cafe was closed for a long break that day and was due to open again next Monday. A discomfort was stuck in her chest as she played and scrunched the ends of the dress she wore. It was simple, unadorned dark golden slip on silk dress that billowed by her feet. Her hair, washed and dried, was left hanging loosely, yet she couldn’t help but think that it would look better styled into an updo. Flattening out the dress by her thighs, she inhaled deeply, till the air filled her lungs fully and tried to calm down.

‘There’s no reason why they’d hate me right? I mean, I'm still ‘Angela’ even if I don’t really remember them?’

No, she hadn’t told Jack that she had planned on going to Lumiere Hotel. Nor did he ask anyway.

But she wanted to go. Go and confirm her identity, to find out who exactly was Overwatch, and she didn’t want to simply rely on the information she gathered over the internet. She read the news that surrounded Overwatch, the battles they fought and the deeds they’ve done. Although there was a lot of good, there was also some bad, and it felt surreal to see the names she was familiar with. Ana Amari, one of the founding fathers of Overwatch and an expert sniper, but was currently a harmless florist? Reinhardt, a former crusader and now a general in the army training soldiers. Mei, at least Mei remained someone remotely similar: A climatologist and adventurer through and through. She read of Jack, Commander Jack Morrison leading the team against evil and fighting to maintain peace – the same Jack that hid the truth from her? She even saw another similar name, Genji. He looked different in the pictures, fully cladded in metal with a green visor, his hand holding a sharp and slightly curved katana. Could that possibly be the same Genji she knew? Scarred and all?

And when she got to the parts with Mercy, Doctor Angela Ziegler, a nano-biologist and a field medic in Overwatch, she felt... weird to say the least. Even though it felt like she was reading about someone else, she somehow knew that this was her. The same Angela Ziegler who was also a quaint little cafe owner.

She dropped her arms to the side, taking a good luck at the final product of her creation. Her soft blonde hair was braided, twisted and pinned into a messy bun. Loose strands framed her face that was painted with a tint of pink on her lips and some shadows on her eyelids. Black mascara and eyeliner lined her lashes and lash line, and a little blush on her high cheeks. On the dresser table was a golden masquerade mask trimmed in a black lustre that extended out into one angel wing on the right side, an attempt at matching her outfit. As the mask settled onto her face, the angel wing neatly curved around her head and the black trimmings gave it a beautiful contrast with her blonde hair, elegantly outlining the half angel wing.

“I look fine. I look fine,” she chanted to herself. “It will be fine.”

And with that, she was off to the Lumiere hotel. The taxi ride was quiet with only the engines other driving cars roaring through in muffled sounds. Angela rubbed her arms at the chill of the air conditioner blasting in the taxi, cursing her stupidity of forgetting her jacket while she stared out the window, dim streetlights and the reddish orange hues of sunset glowing upon her face. The taxi driver watched her from his rear-view mirror.

“Miss.”

Angela did not respond.

“Miss.” He tried again louder and when that didn’t work: “Miss!” He tapped at the back of the shotgun passenger seat. “We're already here.”

“Oh,” Angela apologised while paying for the fare. “I'm sorry. I spaced out.”

The taxi driver waved it off and drove away after she fully stepped out and shut the door. The Lumiere Hotel was grand. Tall glass doors were guarded by a pair of tall potted plants at the front entrance where behind her stood a semi-circular porte-cochère that welcomed the guests. In the centre of it was a small fountain splashing. Walking through the high vestibule, a large crystal chandelier sparkled under the warm white lights, inserting the velvet couches by the windows surrounded by some flowers.

Hyssops, she noted off-handedly.

Angela walked towards the customer service counter with the mask in hand. “Good evening. I'm here for the masquerade dinner.”

“Hi,” the hotel staff beamed. “It’s held on the fourth floor, in the Diamond Hall.”

“Thank you.”

“You're welcome. Have a nice dinner!”

Anxiety gripped at her heart with every tap of her high heels. All the reasons she shouldn’t be here came flooding in, as though her body chemistry had just sent them a blank invitation. My thoughts swirled on chaos and the panic grew or faded in dependence. To stay or to leave? Staying would mean facing a horde of people she didn’t remember, face hidden daggers and answer medical questions she clearly could not, but leaving would ease the intense beating of her heart. It would ease her mind and she could forever put this behind her. Remaining a small cafe owner didn’t hurt. She enjoyed it, she loved it. Every day there were flowers to fluff and trim, coffee to make, chocolates to create. But then she would never know. Who exactly was Overwatch? Who exactly was she? Would there be another doctor skilled enough to help recover her memories? Staying would allow her that chance, leaving... she'd pin herself as a coward and suffer a lifetime of regret.

Besides, if she went, there was a chance he would too, right?

Settling the mask back onto her face, the cool sensation reeled her back into reality. The elevator doors dinged to a stop at the fourth floor. She took a deep breath in, clutching her purse when the elevator doors began to open. There was a crack of the other side, a sea of black dotted with colours. When they fully opened, she stepped out and was startled at the large group of people socialising. Men stood in fine tuxedos while the women strutted their elegant dresses and subtly showed off their every jewels hanging off their bodies. Rings with rocks as big as the rock sugars at work sparked brilliantly, diamond earrings hung heavily on their ears and the bracelets, some gold and some silver, adorned their wrists. Seeing nearly every shade on the colour wheel in such a dazzling display, Angela suddenly felt plain and terribly underdressed. Taking another deep breath in, she lifted her chin and began walking towards the cocktail bar with confident strides.

Whatever. Her character would be the best accessory.

Picking up a glass of champagne, she daintily sipped. Although it tasted good, bubbly and ticklish on her tongue, she still frowned at how light it was.

‘The kirsch tastes much better than this.’

She eyed the crowd, feeling her heart sink. She recognised not one of those in the crowd. From their conversations, they simply sounded like ordinary people in politics or business or were well known in their own industries.

Was she at the right place? Looking around, she saw the name ‘Diamond Hall’ on a golden plaque nailed to the wall next to the closed hall doors. Yep, definitely the right place, but why did it feel weird?

The bustling hall was a little cold at the intensity of the air conditioner blasting and Angela wondered who was drunk enough to fully blast the AC at its coldest. Were they trying to freeze someone here?

When the clock hit 8.30pm did the closed heavy wooden doors open and the sea of people enter towards their tables. Angela observed her surroundings. Right on the other end of the hall was a rectangular stage and facing it were fifty round tables covered in white satin and a flower centrepiece.

She aimlessly walked forward. ‘Hyssops again? Is there a theme going on?’

Which was her table, she wasn’t sure. She only prayed and hoped that she would see a familiar person and that they would direct her to the right one, but even as she nearly reached the front tables, she spotted no one.

‘Don’t tell me not even one of the Overwatch members are going to come?’ she frowned. ‘But Mei had an invitation too. Why didn’t she come?’

It wasn’t until she made the decision to turn around, forget the happenings of tonight and go home, did someone call out to her from behind. “Is that you, Angie?”

That voice. Angela turned around and saw a tall blond man cladded in a dark blue suit and a white shirt underneath. He wore a simple golden coloured mask from where those vivid blue eyes stared at her. “Jack?”

“It is you!” He quickly crossed over to her. “Why are you here?” Had she received a letter after all? Why didn’t she tell him?

“I received an invitation for the dinner. So I came,” Angela saw no point in hiding it from him anymore, but it didn’t mean she’d explain every detail.

Jack frowned at her curt tone, but otherwise shook it off without questioning it. He then led her to the second table before the stage. “Here’s our table.”

“Thanks.” And she sat down, simply waiting. She had noticed when they neared the table, names brushed in golden calligraphy on lilac paper were placed on the plates.

Dr. Angela Ziegler, Commander Jack Morrison, Gabriel Reyes, Ana Amari, Reinhardt Wilheim, Lucio, Genji, D.Va.... all the familiar names that she had read online. They were here. She stared at her card, feeling the smooth texture of the paper. Her eyes glazed over as she thought. Doctor? Doctor Angela Ziegler? Then back to having received the invitation, recollecting the memories of the expressions of those she knew in the past four months.

‘So I really am that Doctor Ziegler?’

The bustling of people in the air-conditioned room and the clinking of their glasses felt foreign to her. Not quite uncomfortable but simply rather not her cup of coffee. And the champagne in her hand still tasted like fruit juice. To flag down a waiter for something stronger or not? After thinking for awhile, she opted not to.

‘I’m here to find and confirm the information. Not to drink away.’ She mentally grumbled, but she was definitely in need for something stronger, nicer, when she returns.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen, for coming tonight!” The hall lights dimmed as the master of ceremonies stood on stage. He was lean and wiry, donned in a silver suit and a matching mask that contrasted his dark hair. “Tonight’s dinner will be a full course meal, celebrating Overwatch’s good deeds in the past of trying to advocate, maintain and gain peace for us all.” He glanced at Angela and Jack, seeing the table otherwise empty and disappointment flashed through his eyes. “I see that we do have two of their old members with us! Let’s give them a warm welcome!”

A large round of applause welcomed the duo.

“Wow, they actually did manage to invite them!”

“The table is pretty empty though. But two is better than one?”

“I thought they liked to lay low?”

Chatter about them began to spread as she felt the scrutinising stares of the crowd. Like an animal on display at the zoo, just watched and stared at. She turned a deaf ear towards the rest of the crowd, listening attentively to the master of ceremonies drone on about some of Overwatch’s past deeds, things that she had already read before. When he was done, he suddenly shifted the topic.

“And tonight, I would be honoured to introduce to you a very special guest of tonight’s dinner. Our mayor!”

Angela’s eyes widened in pleasant surprise. Was Overwatch’s good deeds really that special that it could warrant even the mayor to show his presence?

She watched as a man on the table next to theirs stand up. He was surrounded by rich socialites, dressed lavishly that their gems sparkled and suits crisp. He lifted the glass of champagne in his hand. “Thank you kindly. It is my honour to be present at such a fine dinner as we celebrate the genuine actions of maintaining peace in this chaotic world.”

The master of ceremonies politely replied in agreement before the mayor sat back down. Lines of waiters and waitresses wearing similar silver masquerade masks then appeared from the doors on either side of the stage, carrying large trays of the first course. Wine and a couple of other stronger alcohol were brought out as well, but she stuck to the fruity champagne.

The evening carried on rather dully. Even as she ate together with Jack and the master of ceremonies was trying to liven up the atmosphere, she found her mind wandering back to the memories she recovered. The warmth they sparked was more interesting than any performance that was put on. Some businessmen and politicians came to introduce themselves to Jack and her (why Jack she’d understand but her? She really couldn’t comprehend), but Jack simply made polite conversation with them while she acknowledged their presence and gave her input from time to time. There was a dance floor near the centre and couples danced across it when there weren’t any performances playing. Beautiful dresses twirled and billowed with their movements as their partners dipped and spun them around. Angela couldn’t find herself to be jealous of them, only because she couldn’t even sort out her own feelings.

Not one minute had passed without her eyes scanning for a familiar ninja, hoping she’d catch even just a glimpse and she’d sulkily sip at her drink and nibble at her food. Her hopes were shattered constantly.

It wasn’t until the hour hand struck nine that something different happened. The hall dimmed considerably, and the lights shone directly at the stage. The master of ceremonies stood there once again but there was a different aura emitting from him this time. It was darker, more dangerous and an evil cackle lightly echoed from the speakers, husky and deep, bringing forth a chill that crept up everyone’s spine. Jack and Angela straightened their backs at the sign of danger, lips pursed and eyes sharp. She noticed that Jack had leaned closer towards her, his posture deceptively relaxed as his hand hovered near his suit. She said not a word.

“I hope you’re all enjoying your dinner,” the master of ceremonies chuckled. The tone was no longer welcoming and warm, but instead an eerie undertone, cold and detached. He was unperturbed at the lack of response as everyone stared at him warily. The silence congealed almost to the point of suffocation. But that was exactly what he wanted. Their fear. The cold hard looks of silent panic. The suspense. “Hahaha! Come on. Did you not find the food to your liking, you pompous, entitled trash of society? Say something already! Aren’t you all big shots!”

Amidst the fear and suspense, waves of indignation rolled among the crowd. Fists clenched and flames bursting in their eyes as they tried to hold their anger and pride in. The master of ceremonies laughed harder at the sight, a bellyful of mocking laughter that had him tipping his head back in utter glee and a hand on his stomach.

“Look at your faces. I bet some of you are going to just die from anger.” The master of ceremonies grinned at the crowd and he waved his hand high up in the air. The same group of waiters and waitresses appeared again, this time with trays of red wine. The angry crowd remained furious at his condescending antics, though some still accepted the wine they were offered while some… They weren’t as forgiving.

“Who the hell do you think you are?” A man shot to his feet as the waitress served him his cup of wine. In his fit of rage, he swiped the glass off the table, the sound of it shattering especially jarring in the hall. The wine-red colour splattered across the tiled floors, seeping in between its crack as they made their way towards the master of ceremonies who merely watched with a smile, so fake and so irritating to look at. “I was invited here for a celebratory dinner. Not to some clown’s performance. Manager! I demand to see your manager!”

The smile never once wavered, not even when others began to chorus their agreements with the man. Yet, when his lips parted, and the words rolled off his tongue, there was a dangerous glint that only Angela and Jack could see from the short distance between them. A shudder ran down her spine and she rubbed her arms at the discomfort that crept up her throat. Not long now until the dinner was over, and she could then return to the quaint comfort of her café.

“My manager? You won’t even be alive to see him.”

“Impudent! Go and call your mana –”

Bang! Click!

The doors to the hall slammed shut, the sound echoing and shaking the walls and people inside before it clicked lock. Two tall burly men with silver masquerade masks appeared before the stage doors and stood before it, stoic and menacing with their crossed arms. Their muscles bulged behind their clothes, the lines sharp and defined.

“What are you doing! You can’t keep us contained in here!” A lady screeched in fearful retaliation. She scrambled to switch on her phone, attempting to dial the authorities when a loud crack reverberated against the walls, mixing together with her terrified screams and the shattering of her phone.

Angela brought her gaze back onto the master of ceremonies, frowning at the handgun that he held in his hand.

“Shut your fucking mouth, bitch. The police won’t be able to come. The whole area’s already on lock down. Hehehe.” Leaning his weight onto a leg, he sneered down at the two Overwatch agents that had attended the dinner. “Although I wish more of you came, it’s better than nothing.”

Angela held onto her chair, fighting the urge to have a go at the smug man. She had no weapon, nothing but her purse and phone with her. She would basically be presenting herself on a silver platter. Jack gently removed her hand and gripped it in his, as though reassuring her that he got this.

“I know you have many questions but trust me, I’ll keep you safe.”

She nodded her head obediently while biting her bottom lip. Trust him? She had no other choice in this situation.

“Alright. Enough chit-chat I guess,” the master of ceremonies shrugged. Resting the hand holding the gun on his hip, he placed his other hand on his masquerade mask and pressed onto two hidden mechanisms installed by the temples. As he dragged his hand down, the half mask elongated to fully cover his entire face before swinging his arm out to the side and snapped his fingers.

At that cue, the waiters and waitresses, as well as the two burly men by the doors, mimicked his previous action as their half masks also transformed. With not a second later, the air conditioning in the hall started to hiss and a milky white substance began to flow into the hall. It looked similar to the fog that a fog machine would release, and for the split-second Jack saw the fog, he immediately retrieved his handkerchief, wetting it against the cup of mineral water they served, and pressed it against Angela’s nose and mouth, before pushing her down below the table. She looked at the terror and worry in his clear blue eyes, felt the warmth of his hand on her cheeks as they held her head in place to face him.

“Don’t leave this place, okay? And try not to breathe in the fog as much as possible. Please. I beg you. I know you’ve been a little distant lately and I’ve wronged you, but I really can’t lose you.” Not again. “Please, Angie. Promise me.”

Guilt stood up and sat on her heart at his words. She could only nod obediently yet again, but she didn't make the promise. His eyes flashed with hurt at her silence and his muscles tensed. There was a warmth upon her forehead and her eyes flitted up to briefly catch the glimpse of his lips and her ears catching the barely audible words he told her last before he disappeared behind the table cloth.

“I’m sorry.”

[jayraephoenix]

Good Girl - Alchemist X Yandere! Soldier 76

This story was inspired by this post here, by @cadet76. I dithered about whether to post it or not, but ultimately decided that I'm proud of how it turned out, so I'm going to pop it up and see what you all think. Warnings for gore, and a very possessive Jack Morrison. This piece also includes my OC, Alchemist.

~~~

The Alchemist should have known better. She should have known not to get too close to Gabe, not when she was in the open and Soldier 76 could be lurking anywhere. Don't get her wrong, she loved her war veteran with all her heart and soul... But sometimes, his possessive nature scared her. That meant that she was usually a good girl, and did as she was supposed to.

Laughter bounced around the small room she was holed up in, and caused small trembles to run up Willow's arms. She had only seen this side of Jack once before, but that hadn't been directed at her. Instead, it had been when Genji had gotten too rough during hand-to-hand training, and he'd pinned him down on the mat and told him,

'If you ever put your hands on her again, you're dead.' She had never realised he'd follow through with such a threat, and remove both his cybernetic legs. He'd left the cyborg dinged up enough that the Shimada (and some of the other members of Overwatch) were too afraid to talk to her. That had sure gotten lonely fast... Which was why she couldn't help but talk to Reyes, the one person who didn't fear Jack.

"You're mine, mine! Do you understand?" His eyes, that beautiful shade of baby blue, glinted in delight as she nodded quickly, trying to pacify him the best she could. "Good! Because if anybody else tried to have you.. I'd kill them. And then I'd have to punish you, now wouldn't I?" That smile never left his face, his gaze never moved from her.

"Yes, yes, of course! I'm only yours, Jack-"

"Then why did I see you with Gabriel?"

"We're friends, only friends! I swear-" Her words were cut off by a sob, and this seemed to cut through the haze of insanity in the soldier's brain. Crouching down in front of her, one hand cupped her cheek.

"Hush... Don't cry, love... I'm here now, and I won't leave you again, not for a single second..." The knife in his hand was so close to clattering to the floor, but as soon as this popped into her mind, his grip readjusted and tightened. "But I can't just let you get away with hurting me like that... Maybe you need a lesson, to learn who you belong to."

The once-gentle hand moved to her hair, twisting his fingers in between the locks before pulling, pulling tight enough for a cry to leave her lips, and her head to be jerked back. Tears bubbled down her cheeks, dripping pathetically onto her suit, but he wasn't paying much attention to that now. Instead, he was placing the blade delicately on her face, lining the point up with her forehead.

"Other couples have his-and-her sinks, and tattoos, but we aren't like other couples, are we, love? No, we're unique... I've wanted to do this for a while, but you've been so good recently..." Pressing the knife down slowly, blood welled up and marred her pale skin, and with a cry she tried to pull away. "Stop squirming!"

His movements were precise, pulling the steel down between her eyebrows, across her nose and ending by her cheek. Then, as the red dripped into her eyes and blurred her vision, he started once more by her mouth, cutting over her plump lip and finishing by her chin. The wounds mimicked his own scars, and God, did she look beautiful all bruised, bloodied and crying.

Groaning, he dropped the knife and reared forward, smashing his lips into hers to taste her, to memorise the fizz and metallic tang of her sweet gore. He would take care of her, take care of his soulmate, the fire behind his every move. Even as she sobbed, and tried to pull away, he knew that she'd never leave him; she needed him, just like he needed her.

"What do you say?"

"... T-Thank you, Daddy.."

"Good girl."

[megsblackfirewrites]

Our Bond is Stronger than Death: Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Jack stood trembling in the private room set aside for Gabriel. Angela was tapping away on her datapad, updating files for other patients while she waited for Jack and Gabriel to process what she had just told them. Jack sank down into the chair he had risen out of when Angela arrived and stared at the floor between his shoes.

“How can there be nothing that you can do?” he whispered.

“The extent of the damage is too great, Jack,” Angela sighed as she minimized whatever she was working on and adjusted the saline drip going into Gabriel’s arm. “He was lucky enough to be alive when you found him, let alone when he arrived on base.”

She brought up the charts with Gabriel’s vitals and started doing the usual doctor drone about the extent of the injury. He could see Gabriel’s dark features paling as he stared at everything, his hand settling fearfully over his stomach where the skin graft was still slowly working to cover his exposed guts.

“Angela, that’s enough,” Jack snapped as his hand shot out and gripped Gabriel’s.

He could feel Gabriel’s fear creeping up his spine. It was like liquid nitrogen seeping through every cell in his body, locking the muscles into place so that he could barely breathe. It was a few steps away from being a full-blown panic attack and Angela wasn’t even stopping. Why was she being so insensitive about all of this?

“He deserves to know the extent of his injuries,” Angela said.

“Your bedside manners need some work,” Jack growled. “We get it; Gabe’s fucked up. You don’t need to strip away whatever little hope we have.”

“This isn’t like Genji,” Angela sniffed and shook her head. “I can’t fix…this.” She made a vague gesture towards Gabriel’s stomach and turned away. “I’m sorry, Commanders. I’ll give you some time to talk everything over.”

Jack bowed his head as Gabriel stared up at the ceiling. “All those funds thrown at your feet,” he growled at Angela’s back, “and you have nothing to show for it. Some expert in the field you turned out to be, Dr. Ziegler.”

He saw her shoulders tense for a moment before she continued on. He didn’t care how deeply his words had just cut; she deserved it. She had brought Genji back from the brink of death in a much worse state where he was missing limbs and a good number of his internal organs, but she couldn’t save Gabriel’s life? Gabriel’s internal organs were fine, for the most part, and he just needed to regrow his stomach muscles. It felt like a blow to the gut and he had never wanted to vomit and cry at the same time in his life.

Jack reached out and took Gabriel’s hand, squeezing it tightly. Tears trickled down Gabriel’s face, but he didn’t make a sound. He never had been noisy when he cried; Jack had always been jealous of it. He was an ugly crier, loud and noisy and the mess his mouth and nose made was enough to make anyone sick. There was no hiding it when he lost it; Gabriel could always just look away and no one would know the difference. Gabriel glanced at him and managed a small smile.

“Jack,” he whispered and pulled his hand close. “I’m so fucking scared.”

“Me too,” Jack admitted as he leaned forward.

Gabriel shifted and Jack climbed onto the bed without another word. He settled high on the bed, cradling Gabriel’s head against his chest. Gabriel’s arms wrapped tightly around his chest and he let out a broken noise. Jack ran his fingers gently down his husband’s neck, trying to offer support and comfort.

“What do we do?” Gabriel whispered.

Gabriel must have been terrified if he was bothering to say anything out loud. Jack leaned his head against the wall behind the bed and shook his head. He didn’t have to say anything; his sense of helplessness was conveyed easily from his heart to Gabriel’s. Gabriel’s arms tightened around his waist before he shifted closer.

Jack tried to keep his misgivings to himself about the whole situation, but he couldn’t keep secretes from Gabriel. His anger at Angela and her lack of assistance piqued Gabriel’s interest and Jack couldn’t stop himself from smiling as his husband plucked the emotions from their mooring and started picking it apart. Jack let the ideas flow between them, smiling wider as Gabriel expertly picked apart every little thing that Jack had noticed, mentally documented, and filed away as crisp and clean as if he were taking in a battlefield.

“Jack,” Gabriel murmured. “When did you stop trusting her?”

Jack shook his head and rubbed his thumb over Gabriel’s cheek. “I don’t know,” he murmured softly. “Everything seemed…I don’t know. Maybe after she saved Genji, I guess.”

‘Because she was willing to save him but not anyone else in a similar situation,’ Gabriel mused. ‘You consider this to be a sign of, what?’

‘If I knew, what would you call me? Paranoid?’ Jack asked.

‘Maybe, but I know you don’t like to make baseless accusations,’ Gabriel purred as he looked up at him.

‘I think she saw Genji as her cashcow, as it were,’ Jack sighed. ‘She saw a means to propel herself into medical history and be made immortal. Maybe get more funds for her attempts at necromancy.’

‘It’s not necromancy, Jack,’ Gabriel laughed as he reached up and tugged playfully on Jack’s earlobe. ‘But I see what you mean. It is unsettling and Genji does not fully trust her either.’

‘So what now?’ Jack asked bitterly. ‘We just let you die?’

Gabriel was silent, churning an idea in his mind before he looked up at Jack. ‘Moira.’

Jack snarled without a second thought. Gabriel lifted himself up to meet Jack’s gaze, his eyes even and gaze steady. Jack dug his fingers into Gabriel’s arms, glaring at his husband even as the truth of his decision settled in his gut. Jack put up one more defence, baring his teeth as he shook, but he conceded under Gabriel’s gentle intensity.

“Where is she?” Jack whispered.

“Blackwatch research wing,” Gabriel murmured. “Bring her. She’ll know what to do.”

Jack closed his eyes and squeezed Gabriel’s hands before he got to his feet. He swallowed thickly as Gabriel leaned back against the bed, staring at the ceiling as Jack left. Angela barely nodded to him as he left and he almost wanted to smash her face off of the table she was working at. He wouldn’t be forced into this corner if she had done her job.

She couldn’t give Gabriel a second look, but she was busy working on a temporary arm for Jesse. Gabriel was slowly dying, but Jesse needed that fake arm. He loved Jesse to pieces, but it didn’t stop him from hating the man in that instant for unintentionally drawing needed attention away from his dying husband. It rankled all the way to his core, but instead of going after anyone, he headed for the Blackwatch sector of the Swiss headquarters.

Agents scrambled out of his way, saluting smartly as he breezed past them. He barely acknowledged them as he headed for the labs, steeling himself for the encounter with Moira O’Deorain. He didn’t like the woman; he hated her lack of ethics and morals, but he thought it was stupid to fire her. She was the sort of person that needed to be constantly supervised to make sure she didn’t push too far into the realm of immoral experiments. The UN had wanted her gone, but Jack had sent Gabriel to recruit her to Blackwatch instead. He didn’t want her walking out into the world to whatever person was willing to pay for morally apprehensible or questionable experiments.

He pushed his way into the lab and glared at the understudies. They scrambled away as quickly as they could, leaving a temporarily stunned Moira behind to finish filing her research. She reached up to remove her eyepiece and cleared her throat.

“Strike Commander,” she greeted carefully. “What can I do for you?”

Jack took a deep breath and gave her a cold glare. “I need you to save Gabriel’s life,” he said. “No matter what.”

He could hear Angela shouting in the main area of the medical bay. He lifted his head, flexing his fingers as he leaned back in the bed. He could barely move as it was since almost all of his stomach muscles were gone, but he could move his hips to get himself around the bed. It hurt like hell, but he couldn’t stand just lying down all day. He was a man of action; stagnation was the bane of his existence.

“Move, Angela,” Jack’s voice was as hard as a rock. “I have a different expert I want to have a look at Gabriel.”

“She is no an expert! She’s a butcher!” Angela shrieked.

“And yet she has a means to save Gabriel’s life where you, the proverbial savior, cannot,” Jack hissed. “Dr. O’Deorian, this way.”

Gabriel lifted his chin as the door to his room was opened. Moira entered the room and walked up to his bed without a moment’s hesitation. She wasn’t smiling, but she was radiating excitement. Gabriel watched Jack close the door to the room and let out a slow sigh. He waved a hand towards the table beside him.

“Medical records,” he said. “Dr. Ziegler is meticulous.”

Moira picked up the file and started leafing through it. Her eyebrows rose as she read through the file, glancing at him on occasion. She closed the file after a few minutes and waved the file at her face; she was overwhelmed by what she had seen and was both excited and mortified. He was used to seeing that expression when she was working through her animal test subjects’ lab results.

“This is bad,” she said. “But, I think I can reverse the removal of your muscles. It may take a few months of testing, though.”

“Whatever is necessary, Moira,” Gabriel said. “I…am compliant.”

He watched her jaw spasm like she was trying to hold back a smile. She took a deep breath before turning towards Jack. She squared her shoulders and opened her mouth, clearly expecting a fight.

“Don’t,” Jack growled. “I will ensure that you will not be disturbed and that any medical supplies you need for your…procedure will be made available.”

“I…thank you,” Moira said, her voice a few notes higher than usual. She had not been expecting him to be agreeable. “I hope that this has the results you desire, Strike Commander.”

“So long as Gabriel lives, I don’t care,” Jack growled before he turned and stormed out of the room.

Moira’s posture relaxed as she turned to look at Gabriel. She arched an eyebrow before smirking and shrugging her shoulders. She rested her hands on her hips and leaned back.

“All that talk and he can’t even stick around to see me get started,” she said.

“He would have killed you,” Gabriel said as he closed his eyes. “All he would have had to see was one small twinge of pain on my face and he would have ripped your heart from your chest. No questions asked and no second chances.”

Moira stuttered out something before she gripped the tray. “Then why come get me?” she demanded. “If he doesn’t want you to be hurt, why go through with my genetic theories?”

“Because he will do anything to save me,” Gabriel chuckled sadly. “Even if it goes against everything he stands for. I mean a lot to him, Doctor.”

“I don’t,” she started to say before Gabriel lifted a hand to silence her.

“Focus on your work, Moira,” he said. “Jack will thank you after I’m fine. Trust me.”

She let out a soft snort before she started scribbling on a datapad, mumbling under her breath. Gabriel let out a soft sigh and leaned back on the bed. He was so tired.

[overdrivels]

Rubble (Drabble)

Some light Genji x Reader. Mostly just a practice fic.

How much time had passed?

You didn’t know, it could have been minutes, it could have been hours. Your watch–analog, you had once touted proudly for its beautiful and precise craftsmanship–is little more than a metallic decoration on your wrist, the hands ticking back and forth in jerky movements among shattered glass. It must’ve gotten destroyed sometime between the sky was falling on you and the daunting fight to the surface from underneath several tons of rubble.

Some brilliant Talon operative felt that their base of operations was compromised–rightfully so–and decided to blow everything sky high with you in it.

You dragged yourself across the obstacles of building debris, metal, and glass, drawing shallow breaths to avoid breathing in any more of the dust clouds that still lingered in the area. You cursed the building architects and engineers for their choice of building material that tried to bury and smother you alive. You coughed, and that sent a jolt of pain shooting through your body.

Something was definitely broken somewhere, you just weren’t sure where. And hauling your body against the jagged ground was far from helpful. Why didn’t you wear your vest? The bullet-proof one that Soldier: 76 normally forces you to wear?

Oh, wait.

You did.

Some helpful jerk decided it would be a great idea to unleash a barrage of munitions on it and render it into the equivalent of paper-mache shreds prior to running away and initiating the self-destruct sequence to this tower. You didn’t exactly like that piece of safety equipment, but it was yours, damn it.

The irritation and the desire to wrap your hands around the neck of the bastard who did this to you were the only things that fueled your unsteady army crawl across this treacherous abyss of debris. You huffed, ineffectively wiping some sweat--blood?--away from your eyes with your shoulder. Your hands looked like they shouldn’t be anywhere near your face. Still, you continued to curse at the absent Talon operative. You were sure he was alive. You had heard the sound of a jetpack before the explosion gave you permanent tinnitus.

Speaking of which, you hadn’t heard it in a little while. Or at least, you were now able to hear something other than that persistent ringing. Like the sounds of something rotating rapidly in the air.

Maybe it wasn’t as permanent as you thought.

You couldn’t feel the pain in your legs anymore, but at the same time, you couldn’t really feel your legs at all. That might be a problem. You add it as another reason on your growing list of grievances against Talon. There were a lot. This entire mission had just been lovely. A smashing hit.

You and a few Overwatch agents had landed near this base, which was immediately abandoned by all Talon members in area--they were researchers and scientists, not combatants. While everyone else was fending off what little defense that engaged them outside the perimeter, you had slipped inside to grab any intelligence left behind. Like many other large organizations, their contingency escape plans couldn’t have been so thorough as to include the destruction of their data, could it?

No, it didn’t, much to your glee at the time. You were free to pilfer their databases and codes, especially the specs of their new weaponry and operative profiles.

The plan would have been a success if it wasn’t for that Talon member who you ran into--the rest was history and you...you were not about to become a part of it if you could help it. But as for your team, they must’ve been outside the perimeter of the blast. More likely than not, the rest of your team has been whisked off to safety while you were just crawling around like a fool because you believed they wouldn’t otherwise abandon you here in the middle of a building collapse.

So great, you were just digging yourself out of a hole deep underground for nothing. Chances are, even in the open now, none of your teammates would be waiting for you or looking for you--instead, they’re giving their reports to Winston and Soldier: 76 that you were dead and maybe hold some hilarious funeral for you that just has a headstone with curses on it. Damn them. At least the cursing headstone would be appropriate.

“Yo.”

You yelped, and tried to scramble for cover under…nothing. There was nothing around you that you could hide behind or under, which was a welcome change from the constant scenery of claustrophobic makeshift tunnels that you’ve been crawling through for the past...oh, right, your watch was broken. But upon seeing a glow of familiar green against an expanse of open air from the corner of your eye, you began to grumble about ninjas and their non-existent footsteps and gave up on trying to hide yourself.

“I heard your profanity,” he said, voice tinged with relief and touch of giddiness. You’re not sure if he’s happy that he’s found you or if he’s amused by your creative obscenities. You chose to believe the latter and debate giving him a tongue lashing as well. But as it were, you were too exhausted to do anymore than just huff. Your teammate found you, you’re both relatively safe, and that’s all that mattered.

He knelt beside you, inquiring about your injuries. You gave your self-diagnosis (“Feel like shit. Lower body’s shot and I don’t even want to look at my front.”) to which he regards with a lot of concern and checking of your legs for you. His diagnosis was only, “We will need Angela,” which prompted a long drawn groan out of you.

You pushed at his arms when he attempted to scoop you up out of the tunnel you found your way out of, or to at least turn you face-up.

“Hurt my back, don’t want to lay on it.”

He tried a few more times, much to your displeasure, and gave up to sit beside you on the fallen remains of a column, respectful of the fact that you’re face-first in a pile of rubble.

“Angela is on her way now,” he said. “I’ve sent her our coordinates. Are you sure you are...all right?”

“’m annoyed. Tired,” you sighed. Now that you’ve had a second to catch your breath, the ache in your arms and fingers finally began to settle and make itself known. It burned like hell. “Hey, did you find the prick who left me to die?”

“No,” Genji sounded just a little mournful. “We are lucky to have found you.”

You tsk’d, annoyed that the person who nearly caused your untimely demise has gotten away. You were very much looking forward to burying the bastard in the exact pit you crawled out of, on top of strangling him, and maybe tying up his legs so he can’t use them to escape.

Genji took your hand, and that stopped your torture scenario in its tracks.

“It took us half a day to find you,” his voice was soft, his thumb--it was damaged and heavily scratched--caressed the back of your hand. You stared at the motion incredulously, but Genji did not seem to notice--if he did, he was polite enough to not say anything. “We thought the worst when we could not contact you.”

You had the decency to look a little embarrassed. “‘m sorry.” Your teammates must’ve been worried sick. Of course they wouldn’t be throwing a funeral party for you. They must’ve been searching like crazy. Come to think of it, it was morning when you all landed nearby, the sky was now dark and beginning to chill your skin, which still burned with violent intensity.

“As long as you’re safe, I am thankful.”

The fondness in his voice was evident, and you said nothing. He held your hand just a little tighter, and you squeezed it back even though it hurt to curl your fingers, face turned into the ground to hide the smile that threatened to crack your features. 

“Thanks, Genji. Nice to know you care.”

His laugh was gentle.

“Of course. And when we return, we will have Winston repair this. It is your favorite, is it not?”

He tapped the broken remains on your watch, and you were surprised to know that he remembered. It was sweet, and made your heart squeeze just a little.

“Just come out with me and get a new one, I think that one’s done for, anyway.”

There was a moment of silence before Genji’s playful voice cut through it. “It’s a date, then.”

[clandestineclairvoyant]

Ch 4 Overwatch Dragonfill

Lol so I ended up throwing this chapter away, but since it already had about 400 kudos, i decided to post it somewhere else for people if they wanted the old version of the chapter! (I HAD to change it I wrote myself into a corner. OTL Maybe now I can get the next chapter out.)

 The work is here  if you want to read it!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Our family has always borne the dragon.” Hanzo started, right then and there in the peaceful place that makes itself some time at night, when no one else was awake. Jesse’s eyes were itchy with it, and his knee shaking with some sort of pent up energy that seemed to be endless even when his fingers trembled with fatigue.

“My father’s father, he was also one. Quite large from what I am told; the size of a small train. Shimada Taiki.” Hanzo stopped, halting, and after Jesse motioned with his empty hand, took a sip of beer. It seemed to help. And even if it didn’t, Jesse could think of worse things than to see those lips wrapped around the top of a bottle.

(Even if he also thought of them filled with razor sharp teeth, he was only human; and Shimada Hanzo was a very handsome man.)

“It skipped my father.” Hanzo continued. McCree had heard of the Shimada clan, in the business, and pieced together his own picture with this rare glimpse behind the scenes of a fallen empire. “I suspect this is what made him the man he was; ruthless, cold. He raised our criminal empire from back alleys, and put us into the pockets of CEO’s and ministry. All without the strength of our clan or the immediate support of our clan’s elders.” Hanzo seemed dismissive of these fools, faintly sneering. “They came to approve of him, but it took much work and sacrifice that was unnecessary. It was almost unheard of for one who was not a dragon to lead our clan, and many resented him for it, but he made it his own and led us into a grand era of power and influence. One I was destined to inherit, and that Genji was completely disinterested in.”

Jesse stayed silent, sipping his own beer. Looking across the back of the shooting range, all he could see was the red glow of the locked entry and the light coming from the holograms still running on the target area. His empty beer carton, and the empty bottles rolling loose with their caps scattered amongst his .357’s made a brief mess on the spotless chrome floor.

“When it returned to our bloodline, it returned strongly. Genji has the dragon in him the same as any Shimada, running in his blood. Just as I do.” He paused, grimacing, and sipped his beer again. It was an impressively large sip, and McCree found himself drinking out of self defence. “But I was unfortunate enough to be imbued with…. I guess it might be right to say the spirit of the dragon runs twice as strong in me. The spirit of duality, of twins.”

“So there’s an actual dragon inside of you, you’re saying.” Jesse asked just to be sure he wasn’t misconstruing things. Christ almighty. “And it lets you- What. Dismember people with your mouth?”

“No.” A breath of relief. “There are two dragons in me. If there was one, I wouldn’t be nearly as…” Hanzo takes another drink, and grimaces. “怒った

. Angry.”

Ah. Didn’t quite answer his question.

Hanzo stopped talking, and for a few moments he seemed to gather himself, as if unsure of where to start next.

Jesse thought that if he was waiting for some help, he’d be waiting awhile. He was still trying to wrap his head around the fact that spirit dragons nested in your soul like a freeloader, and resulted in what he’d seen in the alley. It was something like magic, unbelievable even after seeing the evidence of it right in front of his face and attempting to tear his throat out.

But after combating Reaper in the field, and fighting alongside agents like Tracer and Mercy, he supposed he could broaden his horizons a little more. There were many impossible things out there, and he wouldn’t be the fool to let them reach out and bite him in the ass.

“I lose my temper often. Ever since I was a child, these creatures inside me have fought. Against my father, against my elders.” A dry click of a swallow, face impassive. “Genji. Each other. It is an invisible battle, until it is not, and I was often sick. Unable to control my form, barely able to do my school work.”

Jesse tried to imagine this man as sickly a day in his life, and couldn’t. He looked like he could arm wrestle Winston; And if not win, make a mighty fine show of it.

“I struggled much. There were days when… The only one I would see was Genji. Even then I lashed out, the dragons not recognizing one of their own. Only violence.” Hanzo looked ill now. As if this story was draining him. Jesse knew the man had been a wanderer for much too long before coming in, and he supposed if he’d had to bare everything to reyes right off the bat after coming in from the cold, he’d have felt ill as well. He let him be, patient, eyes fixed on the floor and thumb tapping a rhythm against the glass bottle in his hand.

“Eventually I reached peace in myself. Or so I thought. After I turned 17, I was rarely ill from my condition, and mine and my brother’s mastery over our shapes only grew.” Hanzo seemed to reconsider briefly, tilting his head, and turning to look at Jesse finally. Jesse returned the gaze, curious and slightly startled. “Although it is not right to say that they are shapes. They are us. My grandfather, Taiki, never left his dragon form. According to family tales he was born in it from his mother, and never left. How true this is I am not sure. But I know it’s not impossible.”

“Wait.” McCree worked his mouth a moment, brow furrowed, before just biting the bullet for the sake of his own god damned curiosity. “Then how did your, er. Grandmother-”

“Also a dragon.” Hanzo gave him a sharp look of dismissal, but Jesse couldn’t be concerned about it, because phew. “A cousin. As I said, the line runs strongly. This is why it was so unusual for my father to be as plain as he was,” Hanzo finished his beer, draining it, and Jesse looked on, still curious, less impatient. “And natural for him to have amassed such an empire of treasure in such a short life time.”

“So he’s dead?”

Hanzo nodded wearily, stitches stretching in his neck. “ I was to take his place. But as I’m sure my brother’s explained to you, there was a fight.” He had. And it was this that held Jesse’s tongue through the whole conversation here in this gun range. The peace in Genji. His determination to bring his brother in, to forgive, that odd omnic that floated after him like some kinda zen ghandi balloon encouraging with mechanical humming tones.

“An order from on high came not soon after. We fought. I lost control.” Hanzo said this quickly, shortly. With a flat tone and no change in his expression, as if he was simply recounting a mission report. “And in the aftermath, I left. And now here we are. That is what you saw.” Hanzo clapped his hands, rubbing them briefly as if to rid himself of the whole business, tense and fidgety. “And that is what I would like for you to keep to yourself.”

Jesse wasn’t a fool. The only reason he was getting this brief account of Shimada family history was because he’d almost been killed in that alley. Threatening him could only do so much; Jesse Mccree faced death every day walking to work and back again, and both the Shimada brothers knew it. This was buying his silence with the truth; and he had to admit.

It was mighty effective.

“Mercy know?” He asked, finishing his own beer, and vision barely swimming. Athena had tattled on him one too many times for Jesse McCree to get any kind of smashed on base, but there was still a thread of warmth running through his guts that eyed Hanzo’s bare arm, the elegantly strong muscles of his wrist and the stiff almost fur-like quality of his hair that was as untameable and shaggy as Jesse’s own. Although he made a much better attempt at taming it into its short tail. His eyes moved from there to the corner of his eyes, storm grey with long lashes that were hooded with concentration..

Sitting next to him felt like sitting next to a firecracker though. Dangerous.

Jesse never felt this way with Genji, despite having first hand account to how deadly the cyborg could be. He’d seen the man reave through frontlines like they were tissue paper, severing limbs from bodies, green lights a blur and sword making sick noises like a butcher shop.

But he’d also seen him curled up on the common room couch like a house cat, running lights dimmed and Liao slowly building a castle of remote controls, car keys, playing cards, and water bottles on the flat edge of his visor.

Hard to be scared of something 5 foot 5, that was docile as all that.

But something about Hanzo raised the hair on the back of Jesse’s neck, shivered his bones and told him this was a predator. Be wary.

“She’s aware. She reconstructed my brother, and there are things about us I’m sure are not usual in her line of work. Eyes, teeth, the such. Whether she knows the full extent...” Hanzo trailed off meaningfully, and for a moment, Jesse thought he was going to elaborate.

But before he could there was a sudden clatter, and a door set flush in the wall swooped up with a whirr, releasing an irate looking cleaning bot.

It startled him enough that he almost dropped his bottle, fumbling his grip and drawing a smirk from Hanzo that he took with good grace. Fair enough.

“I reckon we’ve outstayed our welcome.” McCree observed drily, as the little bot started sweeping up the debris Jesse had left in his shooting lane. If he wasn’t crazy, it was beeping to itself softly, a robotic grumbling that grew in pitch the closer it got to his mud-caked boot.

“So it seems.” Hanzo got up, and in his absence, Jesse’s arm suddenly felt cooler. He replaced it by tugging the warm wool of his serape over it, breathing out in a weary sigh. “I hope we will be able to work together. After all of this.”

“I hope so as well.” Jesse answered cagily, getting up himself with a creak and a groan. He leaned down and set his empty bottle on the back of the short, fat robot, drawing an enraged series of whistle and beeps that he readily ignored.

Hanzo seemed like he wanted to say something else, but in the presence of McCree’s steady, unblinking gaze, he seemed to struggle, before giving a short nod, and walking away. The door opened silently, and within moments, the dark hallway outside swallowed him and he was gone.

Hanzo seemed like a proud man. Draconic. Regal. He was distant in the same way Genji was occasionally, that he’d never thought to notice until this new information had come to light. Jesse couldn’t imagine the amount of crow Hanzo had to eat to come down here and give his pseudo apology slash explanation; and he still wasn’t even sure he was getting the whole story.

Jesse watched the bot tidy up for a few moments, thinking, before sighing and thumbing the shooting range off. The lights winked off one by one, and he slowly made his way out into the hall, up the cold dark cliffs and bridges of Gibraltar through to the barracks.

It was lonely, this late at night; just the gentle green glow of the emergency lighting towards the base of the floor to keep him company, and it had Jesse wondering why everything seemed to be reminding him of Genji. The lights. His brother. Every cough of air through the vents and flicker of wings from night-time birds on the edge of the property,

His room was dim when he got there, familiar. Gun cabinet, armor rack, cot piled high with thick woven blankets and downy soft flannel, and empty bottles lined up neat as you please in the window sill casting fractured moonlight across the floor. It smelled like old laundry, damp tobacco, and gun oil. Lena also said it smelled like wet dog, but Jesse McCree had never had a pet in his life and didn’t understand what she could possibly be smelling. So he didn’t use shampoo? Neither did half of the team.

He had time to toe his boots off and remove his chest plate, but beyond that, McCree was exhausted. A session at the shooting range well spent. If it took exhausting himself to get even six hours of sleep, so be it. He’d done his time of sleeplessness in Blackwatch, but he was an old man now. He deserved his six hours.

He didn’t dream of anything, but as he drifted off, he found his thoughts wandering towards sleek flashes of green and blue, back lit by passing cars and a knife slash of street lights.

##############

The next morning Jesse was woken by Athena’s smooth voice, combined with a knocking at the door.

”Agent McCree. God damn that AI. and god damn whoever installed her in every room and doorbell instead of an old fashioned knocker. Agent Shimada is requesting entry.”

He groaned, rolling over and yanking the soft flannel blanket over his head. Gibraltar was cold with so much metal and concrete, and the warmth that had pooled under the blankets wasn’t something to be abandoned lightly. Especially with the join of his mechanical arm sucking the heat from his shoulder and chest in a way that he knew was going to be difficult to raise it above his chest later, stiff and unwieldy with cold.

Another knock came at the door, and he finally gave in,

“Alright, alright.” Jesse rolled over, shoving his thick wool socks into his boots and shuffling across to the door. Weak midmorning sunlight came in through his window, tinged pink, and McCree blearily found himself thinking what time it was.

“Jesse.” Genji greeted in bright surprise when he finally opened the door with a few missed presses of the button.

“Mmm. Mornin’.” He rubbed his eyes, mouth and tongue fuzzy, and gestured languidly for Genji to go ahead and come in while he shuffled his way over to the bathroom to give himself a quick birdbath. Make him fit for cyborg company. There was no sound of anyone following him, but Jesse knew without looking that that didn’t mean much. Genji was a quiet man. Dragon.

He shoved his serape off of his shoulders, wrinkling his nose at the smell of dried sweat and stale smoke, before tossing it on the end of his bedpost and following it with his button up linen shirt. (A luxury in the 2060’s, but one he allowed himself. Along with hand rolled cigars and a pocket sized bottle of tabasco sauce. Lena’s teasing be damned.)

“What’re you doin’ here so bright and early then? Get lost on your way to getting me a cup of coffee?” McCree asked from the tiny bathroom, splashing water across his face and neck, running careful fingers through his beard and along his hairline. It felt good to scrub the effort of the night before away, and he made a note to take a nice long soak in the PT hot tub today. Might help his stiff muscles and throbbing shoulder.

The noise Genji made in reply was oddly stilted, a quiet “Hm.”

Jesse shut the water off, reaching blindly and finding a towel balled up on the counter, rubbing his face dry before wrinkling his nose. Ah. Wet dog smell.

A sound of inhalation, a stirring of air against the back of Jesse’s damp neck that moved the curls of hair there. “You were speaking with my brother last night.”

The voice was close. McCree turned in surprise, edging back when the glow of Genji’s visor was nearer than he’d expected it to be. He’d crept up as quiet as a daydream, considering, head tilted slightly in that predatory way Jesse’d seen him look at Talon agents across a rooftop. Or at the tv screen, when he was on a particularly hard level against D.Va and Lucio.

“Uh.” McCree stared back at his own reflection, lost briefly, and sleep addled still. He hadn’t had coffee yet, let alone a smoke.

The visor slid up, and McCree caught a glimpse of a rough scarred mouth, and sharp white teeth as Genji’s nostrils flared, tongue flickering out to taste; and he suddenly wasn’t sure what was happening at all. His head was still fuzzy, eyes fogged from the water, and the light from the windows didn’t reach in the bathroom when he hadn’t turned the light on. Only the wash of Genji’s running lights, glinting off of porcelain and chrome.

“Er. Yeah? We talked.”

For a moment Genji didn’t answer, and McCree wondered if he’d have to touch him. Reach out and gently push him away with his mechanical hand from where Genji seemed to be frozen, visor up and eyes hidden where McCree couldn’t see. But he could see his mouth, parted and red; and the way he tilted forward as if on strings, the same strange rumble he’d heard in that alleyway echoing quietly enough it was almost as if it was in McCree’s imagination. Except this time it was Genji making a sound he’d never heard, before. Outside of crocodiles.

“Genji?” McCree touched his arm finally, a tad fearfully, and Genji jerked back as if he’d been shocked, looking up at McCree and flicking his visor back down faster than Jesse could blink. And blink he did.

“My apologies. I am… Not feeling well.” An understatement, McCree thought with raised eyebrows and a pounding heart. “I came to tell you Winston has made breakfast, and if you would like some, to hurry.” Genji backed up in such a hurry his elbow clipped the doorway, and Jesse was completely flummoxed. He’d never seen Genji run into anything.

“You sure you’re okay? Don’t want to head down and give the doc a call?” McCree ventured, reaching out to rest his arm against the doorway where Genji was lingering, unreadable and tense.

“No. I am fine.”

[sp00kworm]

Go, go Over-Rangers! (Genyatta Oneshot)

For my bestie @lesbian-sombra who encouraged me to write this ages ago, and needs something to help her smile, and something to show her how much I appreciate her! Its something short but its what I could get out of my tired brain.

In the Over-Rangers base the sirens rang. Red lights swirled as the alarm bells rang around the cliff built base. Genji jumped at the sound of the sirens, but quickly grabbed his badge and sword before running out of his room, his boots thumping against the floor, and to the bay area. Navy Blue Ranger, also known as Jack, was by the console, tapping at the holographic keyboard as the scanning system locked in on the targets current position. Genji rounded the corner at the same time as the orange ranger, Lena, and collided with her with a thump.

“Oof, sorry love, in a bit of a rush you see. Off to King's Row, that where one of the attacks is. Hope that blasted Widow isn't there again. Her and her stupid spider minions...” She muttered to herself as Genji slowly inched past her, heading towards Jack with a swagger in his step.

“Green Ranger, reporting.” He leant on the console and smiled, eyeing the locations for a moment as he watched Jack talk into the ear piece for a minute.

“Zords dispatched, hold on out there team.” Jack clicked the ear piece and looked over at Genji with a huff, “Genji you're off to Japan. There's been a sighting of Cyberninja, and he seems keen on trashing the Shimada palace. You're being dispatched in five minutes, make your way to the flight deck.” The eldest member of the over-rangers tapped away on his keyboard and quickly dismissed Genji. The green sentai ranger scowled before heading off to the flight deck, tinkering with his wrist band as he walked.

The ship that picked him up was heading straight for Hanamura, Japan, at light speed. In less than an hour, with the new high speed airship the rangers had gotten their hands on, Genji was positioned at the door waiting for the all clear to leap from the plane. The pilot held a hand up as they hovered over the drop sight, a signal that it was clear to jump. Genji smirked and did a two fingered salute to the pilot, before leaping from the plane, free-falling for three long counts and then pulling the cord on his chute. The parachute exploded outwards, snapped Genji backwards in the air. Gently, he began to float towards the ground, and he watched as people ran left and right, away from fires and explosions. Where ever the Cyberninja was, he had brought backup this time, in the form of minions who seemed quite keen on disrupting the peace.

Genji landed with a soft thud, and watched as a group of minions slowly grouped up around him. Smirking, he tossed his parachute pack aside and stuck a pose, clicking the button on his wrist band.

“Green Sentai, go!” Green light erupted from the bracelet and circled Genji before wrapping his form in bright green light. Green armour appeared over his skin tight work out top and bottoms, a lighter green 'v' decorating his helmet, just above the black visor that slid down over his eyes. Flexing his wrists, he looked at the armour plating over his arms and smiled beneath his mask. The green armour shined in the bright sun and Genji tapped the small device in his arm, pulling up a map, showing a bright red dot which was the Cyberninja's location. The dot was moving towards the arcade, and Genji tapped his arm again, putting the blinking hologram away before sprinting towards the large archway, one hand on his wakizashi, the other drawing the shuriken out of his implanted sheath.

The arcade was in cinders when he finally caught up with the hoard of minions and Cyberninja. The hoard screamed, falling over one another as they tore through the electronics in the games, tearing open the games and munching on the rubber and circuit boards inside. There was no sign of the ninja, and so Genji laughed, annoucing his presence to the minions with a show of flashing sword, rotating the katana around his hand. Sharpening the blade on the armour and flicking it aside, he made a beckoning motion with two fingers.

“Come at me! I, Green Ranger, will put an end to your destruction!” Genji watched the goons launch themselves towards him and smirked, dashing into the fray, shurikens flying and embedding themselves into the enemies. His sword made short work of the minion's thin armour, their spiral masks smashing with the force of the blows and exposing their purple grotesque faces, their features mutilated due to their creation by cloning. Genji hacked through them, attempting to gain the attention on his long life rival.

The hoard gathered towards Shimada Castle, and Genji peered up at the gate, the two dragons intertwined, his visor glinting. He had miliseconds to react before an arrow would have impacted with his visor and pierced his eye. Flipping backwards, Genji dodged the barrage of a scattering arrow, parrying some of them aside with his wakizashi blade. Sheathing the blade, landing in a crouch against the concrete, Genji peered upwards at the top of the gate. An orange ribbon fluttered in the breeze as someone leaped over the back of the gate. Dashing forwards, Genji sprinted after the silouhete, and jumped upwards, pulling his weight up a wall launching a barrage of shuriken towards the person. Rolling off to the side, they dodged the shuriken and returned fire, aiming two arrows before sending them flying. The two arrows flew outwards before curving back in towards Genji's torso. Genji leaped forwards, rolling along the ground before dashing forwards again after the man. In the air, he drew his sword, parrying the arrows ricocheting off the walls and ground.

“Ryūjin no ken o kurae!”

Dashing back towards the ground, Genji sliced downwards towards the man, visor glowing green as he unleashed his powers. The strike was blocked by a sudden grunt, and Genji was halted before the man, his blade drawn. Dark eyes stared back at him, and Genji scowled, eyeing the dark hair and face, masked by a grey cloth. This man was Cyberninja. He grunted and pressed his feet against Genji's torso before launching him backwards. Genji grunted as he was sent flying through the air and groaned as he collided with the tarmac, his helmet flashing with alarms of damage to his suit.

Cyberninja stood and snorted, “End him. I will retrieve the artefact.” and turned away heading further into Shimada Castle. Minions swarmed the court yard and Genji growled and drew his katana before he heard the scared cry of a citizen.

The goons dragged along an omnic by his bottoms. The omnic scrambled to get his hold on something, reaching for broken mala beads that were scattered along the floor. Genji flared with anger and drew his sword before dashing for the omnic, slicing his way through the crowd of creatures until he reached the gaggle of monsters dragging him along. They evidently wanted to get at his circuitry.

“Stop creatures! Release that citizen!” Genji pointed at them, and threw a fan of shuriken, incapacitating a few of them. The omnic swivelled his head around, staring at Genji for a few seconds before finally managing to release one of his feet. He smashed his sandal covered foot into the minion's mask and dragged himself away towards his mala beads as Genji dealt with the rest of the hoard around him.

After finishing with the small group, Genji bounded over to the omnic, grabbing him under the arms before heaving him into a bridal carry. The omnic made a noise akin to a squeak as Genji bounded off over the walls. He dropped him by the clinic and saluted.

“Be safe here omnic citizen. May I as you name before I chase down that criminal?” The helmet on his head tilted inquisitively. The omnic opposite him fumbled his fingers together, looking away as though slightly embarrassed. The mala he had picked up some how floated around his neck, and span with his embarrassment, some jerking upwards slightly in an uneven rhythm.

“Tekhartha Zenyatta...What is the name of my saviour then.” The omnic chuckled and linked his hands together behind his back.

“Green Ranger of Overwatch, at your service Sir Zenyatta.” He flashed another salute before leaning towards the wall and patting the omnics shoulder, “See you again soon.” He leaped away towards the fray again , leaving a flabbergasted omnic by the wall of the hospital.

“He was very cool....and cute...” Zenyatta hid his face in his hands.