Sweat dropped down the brim of my hat, as I forced the hat back upwards out of my sight. The cowboy hat hung slightly loose on my head, it's structure meant for someone twice my size, but I'd always been scrawny anyways, and I had a reputation, and if it ain't broke don't fix it. Just another patrol around our territory to keep other bordering gangs away. I was with a few others, fellow Deadlock Gang members stationed with me for the time being. We were outside a diner in town, a rather shit diner I might add, but it attracted folks and visitors around here all the same. I scraped the dirt off of my boots, boredom making its symptoms well known. It happened all too often on these kind of patrols, where we just sit around a hope for at least something to happen. I was never one for senseless violence, but my trigger finger's been itching lately.
Of course being in the Deadlock Gang also led to being in multiple... "active days" I'll put it. Involving shootouts between authorities, rival gangs, or just any poor sod to stumble their way near. It usually ended with some scrapes and bruises, but no usual injuries on my part. Now that's not saying we don't lose men, because that's far from the truth. Most days we lose about 10 men, so it's best not to get too attached to people.
I had joined for the same reason as most... nothing else to do with our lives. Ever since the omnic crisis people lost a lot of parents, me included. I spent weeks in the hot deserted towns, before I came across a certain gang, and on that fateful day, I changed into the no good criminal I am. I'll be the first to admit that I'm not an honorable or honest man, far from it. But I'm even further from a dirtbag looking to kill for no reason. It definitely took some time to get here, and I had a long ladder to climb, and many people to step on to make it.
I looked up as vultures overhead circled, probably getting ready to descend on some dead raccoon or something. Maybe even a person. My eyes darted around my surroundings, as it was much too quiet, and that should have set something off immediately instead of now. Around here, silence meant scheming was just around the corner, a lesson taught by a former member and friend, Jesse McCree.
That name brought me back a few years ago, when around this very diner he was taken by some folks, never to be seen again. It saddens me to know the bloke is probably rotting in the ground, long gone before I could at least say farewell. I kept a souvenir from him, the same hat I adjusted on my head was a gift he gave me for passing my many initiations into the gang. We were both young, probably 15 or 16, and we both passed on the same day. He did his before mine, and got in, earning his tattoo of recognition before me, a skull with wings and a chain in its mouth, the words "Deadlock Rebels" on it. Well, at least I get to remember him, he was a good man, well at least for Deadlock.
The ground shook as a helicopter soared overhead, waking me from my daydreams and memories. I pushed the hat back onto my head, searching the blue skies as I stood, using the box I used as a pillow of sorts to balance myself. I looked to the other members with me, the same look of confusion on our faces. I whipped out my dual revolvers, both loaded in case of emergency, an often occurrence.
"Shit Nathan! That Overwatch?!" I heard a man holler at me, as I shrugged, before the insignia caught my eye, the one and the same. I turned, nodding to him, as we ducked behind the boxes, waiting for it to pass. But it seemed to sulk hover above us, almost waiting. I turned to the others, as one loaded a sniper rifle.
He slowly peeked out, inhaling deeply. "Think you can make that shot?" I whispered, as he shrugged awkwardly due to his position with the gun on his shoulder. "I don't know man, it's quite the distance, and even if I shoot, it's not a guarantee that it'll do anything." He replied, his voice coarse and raspy from the cigars he had.
A moment of silence occurred, as we waited, tensions rising by the second. "Alright... I think I can make this. I'm gonna ta-"
His sentence was cut off by a loud bang that echoed through the air, as he slumped over on the ground, the scope of his rifle blown to bits as a hole appeared in the back of his head. A clean shot, whoever did that was experienced. I ducked lower as another shot rang out, whizzing by me. One man radioed for support, and soon enough they arrived, as we kept a short distance away in case of situations like this.
A shootout commenced between Overwatch agents and Deadlock Gang, as the bullets ricochet and clanked against the metal of the diner, their attacks coming from up ahead of us, their sniper using high ground to their advantage. I cursed under my breath as I realized we were pinned down, and I couldn't move without getting my head blown off.
Why the hell was Overwatch after us? I know we aren't good people or vigilantes delivering justice, but isn't there something worse to do? I mean come on, no omnic attacks, no riots? Whatever the hell was going on I didn't like it. And if they knew exactly where we were, that can only mean one thing. We've got a tattle tail with us. I mean, what else could it be? No public authorities or citizens know of our whereabouts, and we certainly don't go telling people. But it'll have to wait until later, for now I've gotta figure out how to move without getting shot.
I slightly crept out of my spot, peering into the distance, trying to spot the lense of a sniper against the sun to give their position away. There was a clear battle line, us and Overwatch agents going head to head as we fired back and forth, all of us dropping like flies. I looked out, spotting the lense of a sniper and ducking back just before dodging a bullet, flying by my head a knocking off my hat.
I slowly reached out my foot to grab the hat and slide it across the ground back to me. My boot met the soft wool of the hat as I slowly dragged it backwards, intending to keep all of my toes today, I would prefer not to lose them to a bullet. I then picked it up, placing it back on top of my head.
I inhaled and exhaled, catching my breath and fully preparing myself before I quickly rolled out of cover, shooting at the sniper. They most likely missed, but they would've kept them pinned down for the time being while I ran behind cover, much closer to the actual shooting now.
My mind told me this entire time to keep my head down or lose it, but I fired at the other agent on the ground anyways, taking a few out. I reloaded one gun while firing the other, using the advantage of two guns fully, repeating the cycle over and over and I racked up a body count, the sniper probably being kept busy by other members, or hopefully dead.
The sun beated against the back of my neck, my usually short well kept hair becoming messy and sweaty. This shootout had been taking place for a while now, and my muscles begged for a break, but these bastards just kept coming. I was slowly running out of bullets, and the sudden realization that this might be a losing fight hit me like a freight train.
I peeked out once again, only to see the agents retreating, falling back behind the hills. I smirked slightly, but also frowned, puzzled by their sudden actions. Something was up, but I just couldn't tell what.
"Put your hands where I can see them." A sudden voice sounded behind me, a clear southern drawl. I sighed, slowly raising my hands, lifting my fingers off the triggers of my guns ever so slightly. "Drop your weapons." I stood still, contemplating my next move. "You first." I responded, as the man chuckled. "Do as I said. NOW." He ordered, as I reluctantly dropped both of them, wondering how to escape. "I've got one survivor, bringing him for extraction and interrogation." He said, as he then grabbed my arms, forcing them behind me.
I heard the sound of metal as handcuffs were extended to my hands, but I quickly snapped around before they could be secured on my wrists. I was met with a gun near my head, and a Overwatch agent with a familiar cowboy hat, along with a bit of a stubble. His grip on his gun didn't falter as I ducked quickly, a bullet missing me. I quickly ran to him, before he fired multiple bullets my way, as I rolled to cover. I heard the sound of him reloading, which gave me the signal to jump out at him, tackling him to the ground as dust kicked all around us. My hat fell off as I tumbled, hearing him groan in pain as I pulled a hand back to punch him, my fist connecting with the ground as he dodged it, rolling to the side as I winced in pain.
He then gripped my arm, rolling over toward me, forcing my body down as he held me there by the arm, my face in the dirt. "Sorry bout this partner." I muttered, as I sweeped his legs out from under him, as he fell to the ground. He reached for his gun near him on the ground, but I kicked it away. I ran for the gun, but his foot collided with mine, causing me to trip and collapse into the ground. "Ah, come on." I said, seeing a gun pointed at my head, the click of the bullet locked into the revolver he had.
I did the only thing I could think of. Fight dirty. I grabbed the sand on the ground, throwing it at his eyes as he shielded them, allowing me to dash for my own revolver. I then quickly fired at him, missing as he ran to cover before I could get a clear shot. He was good I'll give em that. I got to cover quickly, sneaking around closer to him, both hands on my gun to steady my accuracy.
My instinct kicked in as I jumped out of cover, behind him as I fired, but his elbow collided with the gun before it went off, making it ricochet off the ground. His fist collided with my left cheek, stunning me as I held it for a moment, before aiming my sights down at him. I was empty, but I hoped I could bluff and get out of this. The man had his sights down on me as well, both of us locked in a duel. But something kept him from firing, and I figured it was the same reason as why I haven't fired. "You're empty aren't ya?" I asked, before hearing the click of him securing a bullet once more. "Well shit." My grin faded as I threw my gun at him causing him to duck, giving me time to tackle him once more.
I gripped him by the shirt, pulling him to the ground as I heard the fabric rip, his right forearm revealed. I stopped, looking at the familiar tattoo on his arm. "Deadlock Rebels". My eyes widened as he then noticed, looking at me. It all made sense now, his familiar hat, voice, stance, and fighting style. "Wait a minute..."
"McCree?"
"Nathan?"
I opened my mouth to speak, my emotions overcoming me as my old friend was unexpectedly thrust back into my life. I stepped forward as he smiled warmly, before I felt a needle puncture the back of my neck. I groaned, reaching back, pulling it out, and analyzing it, an Overwatch symbol on the canister containing the fluid, with the needle still wet with my blood. "Sleep darts?" I muttered, my eyes growing heavy, as I collapsed.