We sincerely hope you enjoy this beautiful little thing titled: Ugetsu.
In Japanese, it means:
The desperado looks down at the tombstone. Arlington. Here lies Jack Morrison. A hero to us all. He was alone, in the clouded, rainy day of solace. Black suit and tie. The water pitter patters on the brim of his hat.
"I know you're kickin', you bastard."
His prosthetic hand goes to shield the flame of the engraved lighter in his hand, bringing the fire up to the cigarillo. Embers engulf the end. Eyes closed, letting the cloud of smoke out in a puff.
"Put out that cigar, kid."
Jesse smirks.
Fists fly through the air, a silhouette on the wall to next to him. A boxer's stance, jabs and welts onto the bag in front of him.
"Hey, it's ready!", he hears from the living room.
The cowboy stops, and rolls his shoulders back. His stomach growls. "Bout done myself, partner, comin'!" He walks over to the rack beside the door, splashing water on his face with a bottle, wiping it off with a towel. McCree still feels droplets of perspiration on wild strands of his brown hair as he fits on his tank top, heading to the lounge.
"What's cookin'?"
The veteran turns to face him from the sizzling pan. "Eggs and steak."
"..."
"Younis Yousef. He's our next target, arms dealer, just like you back then."
McCree purses his lips, looking at the platter served in front of him.
"Hey, Jack-"
"Two days ago, he was in a standoff with his gang and HSI. Killed most of them, even his own guys, then ran off."
"You don't call meatless eggs 'n' steak… eggs and steak. Do you?"
"Are you even listening?" Morrison pinches the bridge of his nose in annoyance. "It's like this when you're broke", he explained. "They say he's-"
"What the devil happened to cash we got from last week's bounty?", the desperado interrupted.
The older of the two sighs, gritting his teeth together. "The repair bill for the bar you shot up, the tab for the said bar, and the medical bill for the sheriff you accidently put a bullet in… killed the dough!"
Jesse's eyes opened wide, stuttering and stammering. "L-look, it wasn't my fault that he happened to be in the way!"
Seventy Six sighs, palm against his face. Annoyance is written across all those wrinkles of his. "He's in Cairo. Wanted alive."
"That's a long ways from here. Don't feel like it."
"The beef there is really tasty."
The commotion of a busy street filled the air, crowds walking down the dusty road with expensive hovercars and camels going down the road. A sweltering sun beat down on the two bounty hunters as they walk. McCree's mostly covered by a poncho. His general appearance would've blended in, except the whole concealment part was marred by his cowboy hat. Morrison opted for a more traditional garb, knowing that anyone would be able to recognize the visor from anywhere, he went with a brown shemagh to cover the lower portion of his face and shades.
"You look absolutely ridiculous." Jack says.
Jesse grins. "Won't notice a thing." Eyes flick over to a group of ladies, shooting them a winning grin and finger gun.
"Hey, Romeo," the senior slaps the back of his partner's head, "keep it on the prize." McCree rolls his eyes.
"I'll be heading to the police for clues", the commando says.
"I'll be going to see Farid, then."
"How you even listen to that old tin can, I don't know."
Both their headsets flicker to life. A whistle goes out of McCree's lips.
"Such a mellow song. What's the name again?", 76 asks.
"Ugetsu. Art Blakey."
"Ugetsu… what's it mean?"
"It means… fantasy."
"Look, this is real mystic and dandy… but y'all got anythin' for food?" Jesse sat crosslegged, a puff coming out from his cigar.
The omnic in front of him did not answer.
"Even oil?", the man huffed out.
"The Caliph of Spears will be soon to come. That is what I forsee." That caught McCree's attention.
"A kingpin, huh."
"You. Flying Ocelot, and Grounded Snake, will catch the Caliph."
"Ocelot?"
"They are proud animals, never willing to let a prey escape."
"Snake?"
"The one who has been rejected out of Eden."
McCree blinks.
"You will meet a Spider. She will mark one of you for death."
"Already died once. Met an angel."
"You take women for granted."
The former agent gets up, tapping the end of his cigar into the ashtray.
"Thanks, partner." He tosses a couple coins on the pillow in front of him.
Morrison looked at his darkened eyes in the restroom mirror, a hand ghosting over his chin. Those scars of old still mark his face, taking off the shades. White hair. He turns his head to the side, looking at a cut. Ever since he's been running vigilante work with McCree, he seemed to age faster than whatever that was pumped into his body was trying to slow down. The door behind opens. The soldier lowers his shades back down. The pistol in his jacket starts to stir.
"You choose very strange meetings for intel, commander."
"Cut me a break, Khaled. I'm not your commander anymore."
The security guard smirks. Jack turns to face him.
"Yousef lost his marbles. Making threats towards the officials. Just took on a group of mercs the other day."
Jack groaned. "You men can't even take him on yourself?"
"Brass is too scared to lift a finger. He has something, something he picked up from his last raid on an HSI armory. Rumors say he's in the higher districts, closing deals before he ditches."
"Hm." Jack went to leave.
"Oh, and one last thing, Ja-"
"Seventy Six."
"Seventy Six.", the guard mocked. "Ana is watching over you."
"It's pointless watching over a phantom." Memories of their last encounter in Egypt flashed back. The three of them.
The soldier's shadow loomed over the ranger sleeping in the hammock. "Napping on the job."
McCree opened his eyes, raising the brim of his hat. "I was having a good dream."
"How peaceful. Catch the rest of it back on the VTOL. My informant told me he's closer than we think. They'll sell off their stock, and get the hell out of Egypt."
"Better catch 'em before they do."
The dealer sat inside the musty old bar, quietly nursing on his beer. A man came up. Eyes flicked towards to the person. His hat tipped down to cover his face, the rest of his body adorned with a red poncho. In his left hand was a briefcase.
"Yousef", he simply called. "Been lookin' for you."
"Oh yeah?"
"Fifteen hundred."
"Brother, that's like half the cost!"
"I'll pay the rest later."
"I don't have a later, Mister John Doe."
"Fine. Show me first." The vaquero wagged a finger.
Yousef smirked. "Alright, then." He glanced around. Only man was the bartender, who gave an intimidated expression, but briskly walked off. The arms smuggler's hand reached into his jacket, grabbing for a gun that wasn't there. "What the-"
"Lookin' for this?" The stranger's hat tipped up, revealing a smug McCree. A pistol bounced up and down in his hand. Younis scowled, knocking over his seat to run, only to be stopped by the butt of 76's pulse rifle.
"Can't see everywhere all at once."
The sound of a car stopped abruptly outside, door opening and footsteps rushed. A scream from a lady was heard, as guns clicked and got ready into position. Yousef's gang. Bullets pierced through the wooden walls of the restaurant, glass flying. The two men ducked for cover, while the arms dealer ran off through the back.
"Dammit, Jesse, get after him, I'll deal with these guys!"
The cowboy nodded, crawling under before getting up to chase after the man.
Morrison threw off his sunglasses and popped up from the counter, letting a hail of pulse fire out from the barrel of his gun.
Younis threw a slugger at the man refueling his car, knocking the unfortunate soul out in one single hit. He pushed him out of the way as he hijacked the ride, but before he can even start it, a bullet penetrates the window behind him, hitting the rearview mirror. McCree was in pursuit, running. Gangsters behind him follow, firing wildly into the streets. The prey speeds off.
"Jack, you in there?! He's getting away!"
"They're dealt with! I'll pick you up ahead at the plaza up ahead!"
He sprints, only to be stopped by a Jeep at the corner. 76 kicks the passenger door open. "Get on." The gunslinger tumbles into the car, and it speeds off after the bounty. He breaks the windshield with a robotic fist, firing potshots after the man.
"We need him alive!", Jack growls, turning up to max speed. Jesse's deadeye looks through the sight of the gun, tracking where the bullet would go through and stop the hoverengine. A clasp of thunder resounds, as the lead hits its mark, stopping the car to skid along the ground, rolling and tumbling. The two men exit, pointing their guns at the bloodied arms dealer. The commando practically rips him out from the car.
"Gotcha." Jesse smirks, looking at the scoundrel.
He tries to get up, only to be stopped by the sole of Morrison's boot.
"I'll walk, you hear! I got my sources inside and out, how do you think I get supplied? They'll bail me, assholes!"
"You'll walk with a limp." The veteran brings the injured man up by the collar, sneering. "Come on, Jesse, cops are comin' soon. Prefer if they didn't catch us this time for public disturbance."
"Te voilà." The shot rings through the air, the bullet making a nice clean hole in the captured dealer's head. "Beautiful", her voice whispers.
Jesse and Jack look down at the corpse, then back up where the round came from. Morrison drops the body, grabbing his gun laid down on the ground. He starts to lay hell towards her position. McCree presses the trigger, which would've been a well placed shot, only to discover he's out of bullets. The sniper chuckles lowly to herself, unscathed as she swings herself away.
"This is a goddamn bitch of an unsatisfactory situation!" The cowboy yells, throwing down his hat.
76 can only stare at where the sniper's perch was. "She was waiting for us."
"Dammit, I don't care, all that work for goddamn nothin'!"
The soldier grabbed him by the shoulder. "Let's get out of here."
In the end, the two vigilantes ended up making the news, like the numerous countless times. Gunfire on the streets of Cairo, infamous arms smuggler dead at the hands of two reckless outlaws. However, the duo reaped a small portion of the award in the end, Helix was at least grateful enough to give them half's worth.
Fists collided with the punching bag, droplets of sweat flying through the air. A heated, but calculated fury was given in each strike. With a last punch, Jesse knocked off the punching bag off the chain, leaving him looking down at it, huffing.
"Hey, McCree, it's ready!"
Jesse walks over from his training session, although with an brooding mood as evidenced by the weight of his footsteps and pursed lips.
"What's cookin'?"
Morrison looks over at him. "Steak and eggs."
"...There's only steak."
"You are so ungrateful nowadays. Eat up."
Fantasy.