The Chance
Warnings: Adult Language, drinking, and tobacco
Location: Northern Arizona
Time: 12:00, High Noon
Nothing stirred. They were out there, waiting, and hoping for him to make a mistake, for him to act stupid. Well he wasn't about to give them that chance. He had been in tighter spots after all. One of them started to pop his head out behind the SUV, brandishing a scoped rifle in his hands, the bullet blowing a chunk in the repulsor hub sent the man back hiding. The others stayed behind their respective vehicles waiting to see how it would play out. Amateurs really. He couldn't remember the last time he saw a group this unprepared. They had the numbers, the firepower, hell, they even had him on both flanks. Somehow, he had managed to suppress them instead of the other way around. Tax payer dollars ladies and gentlemen, always well spent. This wasn't sustainable of course. Something had to give eventually and he wasn't interested in offing lawmen anymore, no matter how inept.
His eagle eyes scanned the scene before him with growing unease. The twenty some body armor wearing feds all surrounding his shack didn't seem inclined to move out around the five SUVs forming a crescent around his shack. No, they seemed quite comfortable behind their armored vehicles thank you. They haven't demanded his surrender yet either. In fact, they may not even be feds for all he knew. Another point of unease, they certainly came with a lot of toys, the pulse rifles and armored SUVs being the more obvious ones, but there were certainly plenty of unseen surveillance equipment in addition to armaments. Not many people could sneak up on him, especially out in the middle of nowhere. And they had come out of nowhere. He just got back from town that night. No sign of any built-up law enforcement activity. They had had their eyes on him. For all the good it was doing them now.
That's when he heard it, the quiet roar of a distant aircraft engine. His eyes scanned the sky and saw the light glint off of a metallic object in the distance. Whoever it was, they weren't trying to hide their approach. Maybe they thought the situation was in hand? Nah, they had comms. So, they were approaching in the open because they didn't see him as a threat? Because he wasn't going to be a threat to them, not unless he had to be.
Annoyed, he put away his revolver with a practiced spin and came out from behind the water filled metal barrels on his porch. They had had a good laugh at his expense, now he was going to see what they actually wanted. He glanced at the ruined repulsor booster, well it wasn't entirely at his expense.
He made his way down and walked to the halfway point between the porch and the center SUV. None of the feds bothered to pop their heads out. The hover type aircraft took its sweet time but arrived eventually and landed behind the SUVs without preamble. He thought he saw the doors open but the SUV he had grounded was in the way. A moment passed, then a skinhead in a suit and sunglasses appeared from behind the SUV. Well this should be good.
"Mr. McCree," he called while approaching briskly.
"Who's asking?" the response came in kind. The suited man made it a point to come to a stop in front of McCree before looking to the left, then to the right, his eyes scanning the residence before finally landing on McCree.
He shrugged, "Me."
"And you are?"
"The government man wearing the suit," he all but mewed, a smirk adopting his features.
"What agency you with?"
"The FDA, we're here to talk to you about the dangers of smoking," the damned smirk etching itself ever more on his face. No government employee ever had the right to be that condescending while on the job. McCree took a moment to oblige the man by lighting his cigar and puffing out a toxic cloud.
"The fuck you want?"
"To kill someone. Specifically, I want you to kill someone."
"That all?"
"For the most part."
"No, it ain't."
"Well if you have to be more detailed then no, there's more to it. I though you would appreciate the bluntness though."
"It doesn't suit the suit."
"Indeed?"
"Yeah."
"Well you learn something new every day I suppose. I also suppose the cowboy hat makes one predisposed to bluntness on the other hand?"
"No, but the gun does."
"What about the spurs?"
"What about your hat?"
"I'm not wearing a hat Mr. McCree"
"And guess which one of us is going to have their bald head fried? Let's take this indoors," he indicated towards his shack and started the trek back. The suit following in stride. He threw open the screen door but didn't bother holding it for the suit as McCree made his way to the fridge. He briefly reflected that this man was probably sent here on orders, and, as he had yet to stir up any real trouble, McCree should try and be a respectful host. He reached for two glasses to accompany the whiskey.
"Are you really drinking?" the suit's voice carried over from the kitchen doorway. McCree looked over his shoulder, observing the suit's, he'll call it, perplexed expression.
"Is that illegal?" he asked pouring himself a glass.
"No, but considering you're going to make a potentially dangerous decision, I'd thought you'd try to keep your mind clear?" The suit canvased McCree with a curious gaze. McCree, for his part, thought that that remark cost the suit a chance of a glass and downed his own as a hearty fuck you.
The suit looked less than impressed but really, he looked more tired than anything else.
"So … Overwatch," he began with an air of preamble.
"Never heard of it," McCree cut off with an amused snort.
"Are you really taking that road? Do we have to dance around this for the next twenty minutes before you inevitably listen to what I have to say? I thought you were going for bluntness?"
"And I thought you were going for in-control sarcastic ass, not whiney es oh bee."
"Touché."
A grunt was his only reply as McCree poured himself another refill and took a sip.
"So then, Reyes …"
"…"
"Nothing to say?"
"No," though his stiff features and strained voice made his irritation abundantly clear.
"Well then, he's alive"
"…"
"You there?"
"The fuck you just say?"
"Gabriel Reyes, your former commander is alive, relatively speaking."
"No, he's not," McCree voice touched by just a bit more emotion than was warranted by a man who had never heard of Overwatch. The suit whipped out a tablet and began scrolling through it.
"Do you remember, Moria O'Deorain was it?"
"It's Moira," Jesse ground out, refusing to so much as look at the man, instead, choosing to lean over the counter.
"Is it?" the suit squinted at his screen for a period before pulling a pair of reading glasses from his inner coat pocket and exchanged them for the sunglasses.
"Huh, so it is. Well, you recall she oversaw a number of procedures for Reyes?"
McCree was silent for a spell. She had done procedures for a lot of people in her Blackwatch days but Reyes seemed to be in her office more than was necessary. Jesse always assumed they were just making sheet music though. Wasn't his business either way.
He took a sip from his forgotten glass, letting the burn ease his mind and allow it to refocus. He rolled his shoulders forward, "Yeah."
"Da du dah! Reyes can't die," he cried out the prelude with a melodramatic toss up of his hands before slamming them on his thighs when he gave the revelation. The sudden jolt in volume grated on Jesse's already sensitive nerves.
"Apparently he did," McCree muttered with every ounce of sardonic inflection he could muster.
"Oh no, he's very much alive," the suit's tone becoming more patronizing than before. McCree paused for a moment. He focused on breathing before straightening his back and letting out a sigh.
"You expect me to believe that?" McCree's voice was relaxed but he tried to put a bit of challenge in it.
"Do you expect me to make a claim with sufficient evidence to back it?" the suit's voice was almost an amused whisper. His body had become rigid and serious. Any humor in his face had been replaced with harsh lines that had been earned by years of stress, hard calls, and bitter defeats. He extended the tablet towards Jesse.
McCree kept his eyes on the suit, neither one of them blinking. They stayed that way for a moment before McCree reached for the device and brought it up for inspection. McCree stopped breathing. His body completely stilled. Then he started breathing heavily, his nostrils flaring with the surge in oxygen intake. He knew the man on the screen, except he didn't look to be much like a man anymore. His right hand which still held the tablet started to shake. All at once he let his arm drop and his body relaxed with him leaning back on the counter. He held the device back out to the suit.
The suit regarded him for a moment before accepting his tablet back. He seemed more than willing to accept silence's control for the moment, he had won this bout after all. McCree on his end hadn't looked back up at the man. His features had been hidden by the decline of his head and the brim of his hat. A few more pants were heard.
"So," he croaked. "You want me to go after Reyes."
"No, not really. His predilection for not staying dead is annoying but not world ending. He's necessary for the context of this scheme though." The suit paused and waited for McCree to make some sort of remark. When McCree said nothing, the suit decided to move from his perch in the doorway and began again as he paced in front of Jesse.
"As you know, Overwatch has been recalled. This, of course, is in direct retaliation of Talon's escalation in operations. It stands to reason that Talon will escalate even further to counter Overwatch's resurgence. One of the ways they'll do this is by recruiting agents specifically to counter Overwatch operatives and.…" he trailed off but the gunslinger knew what he implied. McCree closed his eyes as what the suit was asking started to pierce the emotional fog he had been scuttled in.
"Let me get this straight, you want me to join Talon?"
"Of course not, I want you to join Reyes. Nobody, Reyes included, would believe that you would join Talon, but you're a loyal creature McCree and Reyes firmly believes that you're still his."
"How do you know that," McCree muttered with ever narrowing eyes.
"Because I know Reyes," the suit said bluntly. "He hates you the least, in fact, I say he has a soft spot for you." Jesse heard this and grunted in response. Clearly the suit didn't know Gabe as well as he claimed.
"The other point is that you're a mercenary and he's in the market for a top of the line gunman. If things continue the way they have been then I estimate that he'll contact you in less than three weeks. Most likely, he'll come in person."
"Why do you think-"
"Because he needs the help and you're his. This works in our favor." The suit paused for a moment to see if McCree had any question or further remarks. McCree remained silent, focusing on his breathing as much as he could. So, the suit plowed on.
"Now we get to the primary objective, there's a hacker that works for Talon. The only info we have is that they go by Sombra fairly consistently. Make your way into Talon's heart, find Sombra, then make them die."
McCree sucked in a breath and tried to stand without the support of the counter. The emotional roller coaster coupled with the suit's prattle had left McCree in one of the strangest emotional states in his entire life. The boss was alive, he'd been alive, and he hadn't told Jesse. Worse still, he had betrayed so much of what he used to stand for, so much of what Jesse stands for. The boss works for Talon?
His mind was distracted by the revelation, and all the implications had yet to be fully grasped. What was being asked of him wasn't perfectly clear right now either, but Jesse had been ruthlessly trained by the best man in the business to power through emotional and physical strain. It wasn't long that he began to reacquire the suit in his daze and begin to fully process his mission.
"All this to kill a hacker?" Jesse asked.
"No," at this point the suit existed merely to parry every one of McCree's questions, "I want you to kill the hacker."
Jesse scoffed, a million questions burned in his mind. Uncertainties about the suit, his goal, who he represented, and what he would do when the gunslinger refused. Jesse liked to think that he had learned a lesson about working for unnamed feds. Stay away.
The suit, on the other hand, noticed McCree's disregard and narrowed his eyes and pursed his lips in response.
"Do you have any idea what we are dealing with here?"
"A forty-year-old virgin playing computer games in Talon's basement while one of the greatest warriors on the planet is out wiping innocents." It might have been a question, but it sounded more like McCree's definitive assessment of the situation with an extra coat of sarcasm for good measure. It was also felt surreal that they were talking about a dead man here.
The suit didn't even twitch in response.
"I'll rephrase and restate, Reyes is an angst filled lab rat with a penchant for killing and has a profound inability to stay dead. The scope of his damage is limited to the barrel sights of his guns. Sombra could start a dozen wars tomorrow with a wave of their hands." He delivered this statement with complete calm and no hint of condescension in his voice.
"Sombra cannot be allowed to continue their operations. They already know too much and I … we can't condone their existence any longer." At this point the suit sounded like he was about to give a speech to congress. Which, in turn, earned him another scoff from Jesse as the gunslinger preempted this by leaving the kitchen area. The suit followed with no discernible sense of McCree's annoyance, and when McCree found his chair in the den, the suit kept standing. A few feet too close on McCree's right.
McCree reached for his lighter to rekindle his forgotten cigar. He took a long drag and let out a small cloud of smoke. The suit apparently deemed it necessary to give the gunslinger a moment to collect himself and Jesse wasn't about to pass up at the opportunity. A minute or so passed with McCree taking a few more drags from his cigar before he turned towards the suit. He was cut off before he could begin though.
"I've stacked the deck for you McCree. You'll be pleasantly compensated for your assistance and you'll receive a full pardon for your crimes."
"You seem to be going through a lot of trouble for little O' me. They must have something big?" The suit's face was impassive, his body rigidly calm with his hands atop each other in front of his belt. In Jesse's opinion he looked about as suspicious as a burning shit bag. Jesse could see between the lines, this man had a personal stake in this beyond just getting rid of a terrorist. Seriously, he knew better than to mess with sharks like this, they would send him to his death just for a handshake with the right people. He could find Reyes on his own. He didn't need this man's interference or oversight creating a mess.
"You know McCree I'm not really a fan of the whole carrot or stick routine," he said while starting to shift to be directly in front of Jesse.
"I believe that some people just can't be motivated by personal gain alone and threats can do more damage than any supposed gain from them. No, the real trick is using both." The smirk returned to full vibrancy now and McCree narrowed his eyes in response.
"If you don't aid us, then I put the hammer down on your friends playing world police." The gunslinger's body relaxed and his arm drifted to his holster. His face lost all emotion and his mind became eerily clear.
"I've spent over twenty five years getting to where I am now, and I've gained considerable influence along the way. I'd have to call in quite a few chips, but I could get Overwatch classified as a terrorist organization. And where one agency goes, the rest will follow. With the US condemning Overwatch as criminals it wouldn't be long for other countries to follow. We'd crush you."
"You think you can just throw war heroes under the bus like this? People will see what this is, they'll fight it."
"And they'll win in the long term, leaving me to do a lot of damage in the short term. Trust me, by the time public opinion creates a shift, I would have already killed any chance for this reunion to be anything more than a monkey's dream. And if you think I can't do it, then you need to remember the Omnic Crisis. Just how much power was given to intelligence agencies during Crisis, Blackwatch?" The name was spat at him like an accusation.
"We can have someone thrown in a hole for a year before the powers at be even know they exist." He shifted in composure, adopting a more humble and reserved stance. His head slightly bow as if in reverence.
"Of course, I don't want to do anything of the sort to Overwatch, they're heroes who've done their time for the world. But don't think I wouldn't hit the kill switch for a moment if it made this world safer." His eyes bore into McCree's. Staring him down with all the intensity of a predator having found its prey.
"All you have to do is kill a very real, very dangerous threat. I have no doubt you'll see what kind of threat Sombra is. Besides, you're going to accept my offer. After all, I'm providing you with something no one else can." McCree's face still had an aura of calmness but his eyes narrowed just a twinge.
"Which is?"
"You really believe you can save Reyes?" the suit asked with lifted eyebrows. The unspoken question was not lost on McCree, he had seen the creature on the phone. The humanity in it had all but gone in cloud of darkness surrounded by death. Could he really save that?
"I figure I owe him the chance," Jesse muttered, not meeting the man's gaze. The suit nodded in response.
"I can give you the chance," he said holding up a datapad.
A/N: This is my first venture into fan fiction, and as such I'm trying to get the feel for things here. Critical reviews with ample suggestions would very much be appreciated. I'm also wondering about the rating system here. I'm putting this tentatively in the T range for now but I don't plan on putting in any language higher than what you've read here and violence no greater than PG-13. That being said, there's plenty of room for change in the future. We'll see how it goes. Till next time folks.