Is it wrong to pick up women when attempting to steal a 2 megaton nuclear payload?
A large crystal, big enough that it would require two hands to hold safely, stood in the center pedestal of the largely white room. Containment glass covered the gem and reached from the floor to the ceiling. Inside of this secured vial, the gem was secured in its spot by the folded sleeves of a metallic protective casing.
The walls, floor, and ceiling were all pure white in color, and scattered around the core were computer monitors and processing banks, supercomputers ensuring that all of the delicate machinery was running exactly as planned or else they and the rest of the facility would turn into several square miles of radioactive cobalt.
A laser, powered and concentrated from machines outside of the chamber, shot down through the center of the room, right into the core of the crystal. Although it looked to be clear like a diamond, when the light showed into it, it made the gem glow and shine with color, bright greens, cool baby blues, and a warm pastel pinks.
It was only a shame that nobody would ever see it.
The door to the chamber, a heavy reinforced bulkhead, flashed with the ambient lights on its side. It started off as a red strobe, and in response, the laser stopped leading down to the crystal. The door flashed yellow, gears and gyros turning inside of the bulkhead as it began to unlock itself and the protective casing rose to cover the crystal and locked itself in a metallic shell. Finally, the protective glass rose, and the door turned to a solid green, unlocking and allowing entry into the chamber.
The automatic door opened and two individuals entered. One a man, wearing a sports jacket over a bulletproof vest and an assault rifle in his free hand. Under his shoulder was a young blonde woman, wearing white armor with a set of metallic wings on her back. She carried a long mechanical staff in her hand while she supported her comrade's weight on her opposite shoulder.
They entered and the door closed behind them. Soldier:76 aimed his rifle with his free hand, checking the room and relaxed to find it empty. "Thank god," he said, "the core is still safe." The woman, struggling over her friend's weight, staggered over to a nearby bank of computers, and set him against it, releasing him to slide to the floor.
Angela Ziegler, Mercy, combat medic extraordinaire, stood up and equipped her staff in both hands, aiming it at her commander and projecting a stream of yellow healing mist at him.
After a few seconds of the stream, Soldier: 76 began to breathe easily, leaning against the console and then finally regained the strength to stand up. "I need to get out there." He declared, reloading his rifle and adding a grenade into his launcher. "Mercy," he said, "Stay here, I'll be back."
Mercy stood with her healing staff close to her chest and asked, "What… what I am supposed to do here?"
"Did you bring your sidearm?"
She nodded her head in confirmation.
"Good." He turned, standing at the door to leave, "protect that core at any cost."
"Any cost?"
"Any." He responded, leaving her in the chamber.
Angela pulled out her pistol, the weapon trembling in her hands as she gave a hard swallow.
Wearing a red poncho and brown weather beaten seston, Jesse McCree stood at the bulkhead to the reactor room as it unlocked before him. He was glad that all the doors were smart and the like, because he wasn't really one for computers. His left arm a prosthetic and spurs on his boots, Jesse entered the chamber and walked straight ahead, right up to the radioactive core in its secured casing.
He gave a curt grunt, astonished that Talon's plan actually seemed to work out as easy as they described it. Even though there was some extra company here, it seemed that it was going to be as simply as grabbing this here thing and then hightailing it out of the complex. After that, all he had to do was hand it over to Talon and he could tell them, "Adios". After all, a deal is a deal.
He stood before the prize, as it was described, it looked to be a little bit bigger than a football and covered with science and stuff. He reached out, took it from its pedestal, and tucked it under his robotic arm. He was about to leave, but something wasn't right. No cowboy worth his boots would think that something would go this easy, and channeling his gunslinger's intuition, he could tell that something was up.
Faster than a rattler can strike, he pushed his poncho aside, reaching his right hand down and pulling out his six shooter, aiming it at a big bank of machinery.
Slowly, a young woman began to inch her way out from around the cover she was hiding behind. She had a gun in her hands, but like a wild animal knowing a threat, Jesse knew that she wasn't going to shoot, be it her erratic shaky grip to the gun or the fact that her head was angled away, only squinting out of the corner of her eyes at her target.
"D-d-d Don't move!" she demanded, "I may not really know how to use this thing…. But I will! I was a member of Overwatch, you know!"
Jesse recognized the voice, and once he unfocused from the fact that she was armed, he couldn't believe who he saw. It was Angela –or, well, Mercy- that pretty little Doctor lady that was always trying to get him to stop smoking from way back in the day.
"Angie?" he asked.
Hearing his voice, Dr. Ziegler opened her eyes fully and lowered the gun, astonished to see an old colleague standing before her. "Jesse? Is that you?"
Jesse holstered his revolver, but kept it in single action mode. "Girl, what in tarnation are you doin' here?"
"I'm here to protect the cleansing core. Jack and some of our old friends banded together to stop Talon from getting their hands on it. What are you doing here?"
Realizing what that meant, Jesse pulled his left arm back, somewhat obscuring the core that was being held at his side by his poncho. "I.. erh, well. I was just leavin'. See you around." It was a shame that Jesse never was able to get to know the doctor back then. Now would probably be a good time to start, but that was before he had to go run an errand for Talon. He turned and began to nonchalantly walk towards the door.
As he took his first few steps, he heard her move behind him, her heeled boots clicking against the chamber's floor as she ran to get behind him.
"Jesse, where do you think you're going with that!" she scolded.
McCree turned around, shrugging and saying, "I was just goin' to take it for a stroll. I'll be back."
"Jesse, I'm being serious. What are you doing with that?" although pistol still in one hand, both hands were on her hips, trying to act as an icebreaker to shatter his casual and sly demeanor. Jesse remembered that look. She was always so cute when she postured like that.
McCree gave a sigh, "Alright already." He admitted, "I'm here to take it. Talon's got me in a bit of a bind and if I get 'em this then we're square."
"Talon? McCree, you know what they can do if that falls into their hands. Haven't you realized that?"
"Yep." He answered, "and the way I see it, I'm a simple kind of man, so what's it to me?" Angela groaned, almost as if she was in disbelief that she was actually having this conversation. Jesse turned to leave once more, adding, "So what? It's none of your business anyways."
He heard her boots clicking against the floor once more. No sooner had Jesse looked up was she standing between him and the door. Her big wings made of metal and light-based material were opened up as large as they could and she had a deep frown on her face. It was amusing, like watching a puppy sheepdog trying to corral a dairy cow. Her weapon was drawn once more, lined up with her eyes which glowed in the light of the room with the blue fire of determination.
She had some kick to her, and Jesse was never really one for the saloon girls who could smell money and would fall over any chump with a couple of bucks to spare. But for as entertaining as it was, it made the inevitably of what was going to happen even worse.
Jesse gave a sigh and then, like lightning, he drew his Peacemaker and aimed it at her from the hip, brow furrowing as he focused his trajectory. "You know, its not nice to point at people." He said.
Seeing the loaded chambers of the six shooter, Angela jumped, hands fumbling around her gun and dropping it onto the floor. She stood frightened, hands up at her chest to protect herself if need be. Jesse didn't think of himself as a bad guy, but sometimes you need to know when to hold em, fold em, and when to bluff. "now," he said, "I don't very much like hurtin' a lady." He began to approach her, stepping aside as he passed to reach the door, "and I especially wouldn't like to make an exception for you…"
The automatic door began to unlock, gears and tumblers in the bulkhead activating to release counterweights and shielding to the access to the chamber. Jesse holstered his weapon again as he neared, but just when he was in range to exit, he felt something slam into his back. "What in the-" he began, but then felt something wrap around his arms, securing them to his chest and a heavy presence on his back.
He looked down to see the gloved hands of the doctor and her fancy flying suit wrapped together on his chest. He angled his head back to see the rest of his old surgeon on his back, standing behind him with her arms wrapped tightly around him and eyes closed holding on with all her might to his back.
After a moment of waiting, he had to break the silence and ask, "Darlin', if you wanted to be so up front about it, you could just start by buyin' me a drink?"
"I… I can't let you leave." She said, eyes still closed as she focused all her energy on anchoring him in the spot. "If you go… you'll have to take me with you!"
Now, having failed to shepherd the cows, the puppy was going up to its pa and tell it who's boss…
"You've gotta be kiddin' me…" McCree thought.
Not necessarily sure what to do anymore, McCree waited her out for a moment, feeling her occasionally open her eyes and look up to see what he was doing, but then quickly slam them shut and tuck her head back down to fortify her grip. Irksome? Yes, but he had to admit that-especially with Reyes having a stick up his butt about Overwatch back in the day- this was probably the closest the two had been before. He could think of a few ways to get out of this bind, but his mind was pondering other things instead. Mainly, his emancipation, his freedom and how much it was worth ruining his good name or ruining this chance encounter with someone who he thought he would never see again.
"Alright." He finally said, "You win."
"I… vait, vhat?" she asked, her fancy accent slipping.
"You heard me." He said, "you win. Now let me go."
Unsure if it was a trap or not, Dr. Ziegler unbound her hand, waiting to see if he tried to run, and as he remained, slowly let go and took a step back.
"Are you… really going to give up?" she asked, having flabbergasted herself that her plan somehow worked.
"yep," he answered, still holding the core in his arm while turning to look at her. He angled his head up, looking down at her from the brim of his hat. "On one condition."
Somehow, greater than the threat of being shot and or killed, Angela timidly took a step back, raising her hands to protect herself once more and asked, "What exactly are thinking…?"
The night was quiet outside. Out here in the open countryside the lights in the sky shined so bright that they lit up the land for miles. After the door to the complex closed behind him, the only sound being made in the night was McCree's spurs as he wandered out the door towards the great beyond.
After he was one hundred paces away from the facility, his earbud began buzzing, someone speaking directly to him. Reyes- or Reaper, whatever fooly name he called himself by now- addressed him directly. "McCree, do you have the package?"
The cowboy stopped, remembering something and said, "Hold on a minute."
Confused, the man on the radio responded with "Standing by…"
McCree opened up the inside of his jacket and pulled out a long cigar, with two fingers, he raised it to his mouth and then produced a lighter from his pocket. He took many short pulls of the stick as he lit up the end, pulling the fire into the tobacco until it was lit with an even burn. When ready, he asked, "what do ya need?"
After a second of composure, Reaper repeated. "do you have the objective in tow?"
"Nah." Jesse took a long pull of his cigar. Exhaling a big cloud of smoke as he answered.
The radio made a sound similar to a steam engine releasing its engine power, "Okay… let me be clear. You get your ass back in there or else I'll-"
"No." he interrupted.
It sounded like an earthquake was happening on the opposite side of the line, "why?" he asked with a voice like that of a volcano mere seconds before eruption.
"A pretty lil' lady asked me not to. After all, a deal's a deal."
"YOU LITTLE SHI-"
"Oh, go bend over and shove it where the sun don't shine." He said, removing his ear bud and discarding it in the dirt.
Jessee chuckled as he listened to the explosion on his earphone from ten feet away. He turned away and looked on the horizon, seeing the sun showing itself creeping over the precipice.
He took his robotic arm and rolled up the sleeve on his fleshy one, pulling away his shirt to expose his forearm. Like a cheap tattoo, he looked at the blue ink stretching down his wrist and read, "Angelas # 0-123-456-7890".
The old cowboy looked towards the sun and smirked. A loaded gun, bandolier full of bullets, people out for his blood, a day's head start, a pretty woman on his mind, and a good pair of boots; he'd done more with less.