Title: The Bodyguard
Rating: Mature
Words: 7,790
Summary: When Jesse McCree came to work for the Shimada clan, he was not ready to deal with what was happening behind closed doors.
Author's note: This isn't really an AU apart from canon divergences (Mainly with Zarya).
"I don't see why, specifically, we would take you on as an asset." She was looking over the rim of her glasses, a heavy Asian accent supporting her sentence. Her black hair was tied up in a bun. Small heels on crossed legs, her skirt came right above the knee. Minimal make up, she was looking harmless, stuck up, but harmless and unmemorable. It was a façade however, a façade that probably every employee was required to put up when dealing with new recruits and clients, he guessed. She had a blade hidden in her sleeve, a gun taped under the desk, most probably a small syringe hidden in her hairpin and her nails were way too sharp to not have been enhanced in some way. And you couldn't simply ignore the gorilla sized guards that were guarding the door of the completely windowless room they were in. He had waited hours on a couch before the woman even had entered the premises of the warehouse. He crossed his arms tapping off his cigarette in the ashtray. He was a patient man; this was all a test. To see if his resolve was real, if he really wanted to be part of this whole industry. They had put a tracker on him and bugged his apartment. They were probably recording this current conversation as well. There was a hidden camera in the wall on the right. He was being scrutinised at this very moment.
It had all started a few weeks ago, when he had taken a girl home, to extract information and to spread the word that he was a gun for hire. It had been such an obvious set up, the tattoo on her back had given away which clan she was in, even her position and rank. The girl knew what to do and what to say. For any man it would have been a night to be remembered. But he was a gunslinger, freshly escaped from an operation that had gone sour, yet he wasn't stupid. She had planted electronic devices everywhere when he had pretended to be asleep almost drawing a knife on him when he had shifted in the bed to look at her better. She had left a note the next morning. Saying it had been nice and that she was glad to have spent the night with an amazing man like himself. She had made up a lie on how she was off studying in Europe. He hadn't looked out for her again because the opportunity was already there. He had run analyses, called in a favour, found where the bug was transferring information to and went there. It was a seamstress shop. The following fight was inevitable. The owner had tried to stab him with a huge knife, after which two others had tried to gun him down. He shot one dead and flash banged the others to take them out. Silence fell, he was almost walking out, cursing that he had lost his lead when he heard a small girl talking. On his guard, he walked to the behind of the shop. She was speaking Japanese, a knife in her hand, and if glares could kill, that kiddo would have made him dead a million times. In her other hand she was holding a phone, which she extended to him. It's how he had gotten into contact with all of this. Now he was in what he guessed a first round of a job interview? It was all a bit confusing but if he wanted to be taken in there was no other way. He shifted a leg over the other, half mirroring her body language. He inhaled his nicotine and tapped his cigarette out in the ashtray. The woman in front of him was still typing on the keyboard. She hadn't introduced herself and since she had greeted him with his name he hadn't bothered to ask her who she was.
"That would be pretty strange, what I heard is that you folks have a need of the perks I can offer." She raised an eyebrow. McCree leaned forward, "I'm Jesse McCree, I worked for the Deadlock gang." Her hands left the keyboard and she leaned in to interrupt him mid-sentence, her two hands on the desk. Her voice cold as ice. "I would kindly reconsider if you are about to make a threat, gaijin." He refrained to take out his peacekeeper, insults like these were often a reason he would lose his temper. But he decided to smile instead and sat back down into his chair. He tipped his hat, "Now there missy, there is no need for violence, I was just going to say that: a simple please would have cut it. Bugging my apartment, putting me under constant surveillance and recording everything I do is a bit much. I would gladly be of service for the Shimada-clan in exchange of a bit of cash and a smile." She was unamused by his attempt at being charming. "I'm afraid we can't help you;" her accent heavy, she was visibly annoyed and just returned to her computer, "Escort him out." Another test? Maybe asking nicely was the way to do it. He put his hand in his pocket, circling his fingers around a small flashbang grenade. "Please?" She ignored him and when the two burly men tried to grab a hold of him it all went pretty fast. There was a cry out, two shots, he shortly considered shooting the woman as well. But that would just have meant he would start his search from scraps. The two men were dead, shot between the eyes. She glared at him "You will pay for this, gaijin." It's then that something weird happened some kind of distortion appeared around her. A barrier of some sort. He reaffirmed his grip on his Magnum .44. This technology was unknown to him. This smelled like a really bad ordeal right now.
"Enough." He turned around. A woman stood next to the door, she was massive, a head taller than him. Her face scarred with an 'X' on her right eyebrow. "Stand down, the both of you. Or I'll break you both with my bare hands." He smirked at the comment and wondered whether or not he could best her in a fight. She was leaning against a huge machine that vibrated with energy. A dark blue suit made her look elegant. She wore fine lined trousers, dark shoes and a pale buttoned up shirt. She knew how to dress to impress. "I'm sorry, Miss Zaryanova, this man…" Miss Zaryanova pointed a finger at the other woman and interrupted her sentence, it was clear that she was the one in power here, and not just the physical one. "I don't want to hear it, your performance was a most disappointing one." Her accent was thickly Russian. McCree stifled down a smile of delight at the obvious humiliation that the secretary woman was enduring. A little payback for that insult she had thrown at his face earlier. He took a small step back when Miss Zaryanova lifted the huge machine she was leaning against as if it was nothing. The thing must have weighted 6 to 7times his weight or more even. She approached him and put what he guessed was some kind of weapon on the desk. Still distracted by that machine he didn't realise that in two steps she was suddenly in front of him. It was strange needing to physically tilt up his head up to look at someone. She had striking green eyes. Almost forgetting his manners he extended a hand. "Jesse McCree, gunslinger." She actually took his hand gently in her hand, to shake it. "Aleksandra Zaryanova, bodyguard and currently your evaluator for the next mission." Even though her hair was pink and that he in other circumstances would mock the colour, the woman in front of him was making quite the impression on him. The gentle touch of her hand not wanting to assert dominance, those green eyes making a steady eye contact, the confidence that was rolling off her shoulders. She was present but not suffocating, quite attractive also. She seemed like a powerful woman not to mess around with. She was clearly a soldier, but not of the same type as Jack Morrison.
Her palm brushed his as they broke contact. McCree was surprised at the loss of warmth it gave him. A hint of smile appeared on her lips, which struck him as almost pleasant. She took back the weapon she had taken with her and issued an order in Japanese. The other woman bowed to what Zaryanova said. The respect she incited made it clear that she just wasn't a simple bodyguard as she had suggested; how far up the chain was she? "Now if you will a car is waiting for us, right outside." It sounded like an order, a friendly order, but still an order. He nodded and followed his evaluator outside. He observed her back, a tattoo was peeking out from under her collar. It probably went from her neck to her lower back. This often happened when you were part of a clan. Her back was stretching the clothes and he wondered how those muscles looked when they were stripped from clothing. He had rarely seen a woman from her stature this close. He wondered if her muscles would feel hard at the touch. The cold wind blew over his face, he instinctively put his hand on his hat. Three men were smoking outside waiting, she spoke to them in Russian and they took over what Zaryanova had in her hands before a fourth one opened the door of the Land Rover. He bowed slightly, "Ladies first, Ma'am." She raised an eyebrow and crossed her arms over her chest, tapping her foot, she had apparently not appreciated the gesture. "Get in Mister McCree. Don't be a fool." He hesitated to play it off but decided to shrug instead and got in. Zaryanova was not to be charmed tonight. She closed the door. Obviously the windows were tinted black and the car had a mini-bar. A bit stereotypical he thought. Zaryanova held a data pad to him. "Mission briefing; we ask you to eliminate the target by any means necessary. You'll be accompanying a small infiltration team." Her elbows rested on her knees as she folded her hands. His eyes skimmed the data. It had info about weapons, location and ground plans of the building. He studied the face of the person whose name had the word 'principal target' flashing next to it. Middle-aged, male, Asian, had the name Fujieda, didn't seem like a threat. But appearances were deceiving. "An execution, aye ?", "Will that be a problem?" No, he had killed before, but mostly because there had been no other alternatives and the bounty demanded the target to be dead. "If the mission demands it," he crossed her eyes, they were capturing him in a gaze, "I do what I'm asked to do." She was unmoved. He couldn't tell if it was the confidence in her attitude, her boldness or even the mystery surrounding her. She was inspiring in him some kind of respect he wasn't used to encountering in his own behaviour, especially since she was clearly younger than him. "We're bringing you to a warehouse in the new district, you will be able to arm yourself, meet your team. Before being dispatched, I'll be in constant communication with you through the commlink. At the end of the mission you will be picked up again. You'll know if you are as valuable as you say are. If I approved of your performance." The undertone was clear, he had to succeed this mission or he was himself to be executed. The mission didn't look that hard. There was certainly another test awaiting him on the battlefield itself.
They were not even sparing him a look, just busy talking. It was pretty dark. The armoury had all kinds of different guns. Seeing the nature of the mission he chose a silencer for his peacekeeper gun. It looked like it had been especially prepared for him. He accepted the change of clothes. The body armour they were proposing was darker than what he was wearing. He refused however to leave his hat or boots behind. There was more room for grenades around his belt this time. He stashed away the rest of his stuff in a locker, put his watch on self-destruct if it wasn't unlocked properly, and swiped the locker closed. The words 'fingerprint recognised' and 'locked' flashed on the small screen. It all felt pretty mechanical, but familiar. Right now he just had to wait until whatever happened behind the scenes was ready for this operation to start. He sat down on a bench against a wall pulling his hat slightly lower. A ritual to ground himself; to concentrate on the task at hand. Other members of the team were just sitting around a table, some of them smoking. Another was looking at the guns. "You're American right?" He looked up. A guy near his late twenties was looking at him. "You ain't wrong," was his answer. The guy sat next to him, giving him what looked like communication gear. "It's their latest tech. We are to test it out for this mission." "You a field agent, kid?" he shook his head. "No, I'm just your driver. I'm pretty good at getting people in and out." He seemed pretty young, "You been working here long?", "Eight years, I think? Kumicho-dono took me off the streets himself. Saved me, gave me a place here, a family I never had until now." McCree didn't reply. The kid was visibly young and had made bad choices and it was certain that he wasn't the only one. His mind drifted to Zaryanova, what was her reason to join the Shimada-clan, had she needed saving? Or was it ambition? Maybe she had seen this as the best solution to fight against the omnics that were destroying half of her country. Maybe it was something completely different all together. Speaking of the devil, she entered together with two other men.
"Assemble, you all." Her booming voice made most of the people salute her. She was the leader here. They all went to the table as a ground plan was projected. She briefed the team, presented the team leader called Tachiro and went over on how the mission was going to proceed. The building was in an isolated place surrounded by a forest next to an abandoned railway station. She emphasized that blowing up things was absolutely ill advised. The trains that were stored there used highly flammable fuel. The target was mainly Fujieda who had apparently sold guns and other supplies to an omnic resistance group. But for the operation to go smoothly any other person that could be a possible witness needed to be eliminated as well. "No prisoners; no survivors." And it's then that Zaryanova's expression became darker, ruthless, "Let it be man or machine." She was referring to omnics, people around nodded. The hate was rolling off of her, her hand clenching the data pad in her hand. Her jaw clenched. Her posture attacking. Her brow frowned. Their gazes crossed and it was like her green eyes were burning with implied imperative. "We'll get them, Ma'am." He returned her gaze as he said that. He nodded slightly making it clear he would personally make sure that any omnic on sight was executed. It somehow seemed to make her relax. Her shoulders relieving some tension. Even her breathing became more steady. "Move out!"
As a well-oiled machine everybody moved out. They had all been working together for a while he figured. They filed into two vans, each big enough to hold 6. Zaryanova was at the communication controls, while someone else was looking at the radar. Tachiro was going over the plan one more time. They would split into two teams. One would offer a bait, the other infiltrate. He tuned out slightly, looking at Zaryanova. Her brow was furrowed in concentration as she was cross checking the information in between screens. Noticing he was staring at her she took off her headset. "I was wondering, how does a soldier like you favour to be more behind the scenes than on the front line?" Tachiro was still talking; she seemed surprised by the question. She unconsciously caressed her bottom lip with her thumb, considering the answer. "If there was a need for superior firepower, I would follow these men into battle. Lead them to victory." She gestured to herself, the team leader was still speaking so he took out the earbud to be able to listen to her better. "I'm no spy. Right now I'm more useful here than on the battlefield. Beside…" She seemed hesitant to talk for a moment. His training made it clear she was about to tell something personal but had resigned to do it. "I'm still evaluating if you have your place here, if you're an asset to the team." He tipped his hat to her. "Let's hope I'll convince you then, Ma'am." He put the earbud back in, someone was in the middle of formulating a question. Zaryanova was hiding her real function to him. Prying would have seemed suspicious so he just went back to the task at hand. He didn't add anything to the conversation since everything was just repeating what he had read on the data pad earlier this evening.
They arrived and moved out. He was on the infiltration team. It was dark outside and there were just the lights of the pulse machines lighting in the dark. They went around the building. A quick look inside showed that people were just minding their own business. The team leader gave the signal and an explosion was heard. The diversion seemed to work. They stormed in. It all happened fast. He only had to rely on his reflexes. Dodge, bullet, an omnic grabbing his arm kicking it off; shooting it in circuits, one man went down, a second, a third. Another explosion. Louder. A flashbang he refilled his barrel. Killed two more. They were advancing upstairs where the main target was. Someone bunked down the door and got shot gunned into the face. A rain of bullets followed as McCree was able to duck. There was another window at the office. They weren't looking through that one and it was at their back. Another explosion and in the earbud there was a scream of the amount of teammates that were down. He moved away from the room where the other men were just shooting without aiming. Tachiro was cursing as he joined McCree. "Most of the teammates are down, a train exploded. They knew we were coming. We're down to three guys against whatever is left in that office over there." He was injured to the stomach because of the debris. McCree scouted the premises. There was another office further away. "Cover me," he said to his colleague before darting off. Another rain of bullets flew over his head. The other office was empty. He had calculated right; there was a window with a railing that connected the two offices. He climbed over the windowsill. Shit, it was unstable. He rested his back against the wall to make sure he wouldn't fall and break his neck. The cold nipped at his face. He exhaled through his nose. He shouldn't have looked. He hated heights. He made smalls steps, trying to clench down the feeling of panic rising in his stomach. He cursed. It was what, 5 meters? He could handle 5 meters. He exhaled once more. One step after the other, one step after the other, one step after… the metal railing moved and he was stunned to silence. At least with the noise from inside nobody heard what was happening outside. He felt himself tremble. Fuck, shit, damned this all to hell. He was too afraid to close his eyes. Too afraid to continue. He inhaled. Exhaled. Don't look down. He reached in his back pocket. Took out a cigar and lit it. Inhaled. Exhaled. The fumes in his mouth settling him down. His team leader was shouting in his earbud. He ignored. Dragging out a good inhalation from his cigar. He looked at the moon. Feeling his nerves settling down. He tapped the ashes off. One step after the other. One step after the other. The window was slightly open. 5 heads were facing the other way. Guns in hand, hiding from Tachiro who was shooting from the corner of the door. He calculated. Concentrated. The cold wind caressing his face and bare forearms. He aimed. "Step right up." Five detonations from his Magnum .44. They all fell stone cold dead. Bullets lodged into their skulls.
It was suddenly very quiet. McCree busted in the window so it would leave passage to him. Zaryanova talked to him "Status report, McCree." He recharged his peacekeeper. "Main target eliminated." He said in the earbud. Tachiro came out with two other men, one was holding him over his shoulder so he could walk better. "We suffered heavy losses, one of the omnics was a B73. We're three men plus one injured." The rest of his team were checking for any pulses on the dead enemies in front of them. "Very well. Shoot them." He looked at his team mates.
If the mission demands it, I do what I'm asked to do.
He knew he would hate himself later, he pulled the trigger on the first one. They weren't fast enough. Tachiro reached for his gun but just fell down dead at the second shot. The third was panicked and stunned, he got killed instantly. "Come and join us at the pickup point." He dragged from his cigar and exited the building. He walked at ease, his nerves not coming down just yet. He made sure to stretch his legs after every step. He kicked a stone. To feel more relaxed. Yeah he hated doing that. Shooting men without a reason. The door opened. Zaryanova helped him to get in with a strong grip. Her strength was quite unmatched. He sat down on the jump seat and dragged one last time from his cigar before tapping it out on the ashtray next to the monitors. He didn't feel like talking. Zaryanova turned to him sitting down on her chair. "I see there was a peak in your cardiac rhythm during the operation. May I know what that was about?" Her green eyes crossed his. She seemed wanting to talk about his evaluation. He smiled, trying to make sure he was on her good side. "The rails I was on were unstable it surprised me." She wanted more information, so there was a silence. He knew this technique but he really didn't want to play along this time. Zaryanova sighed, "Well I'll be sending your results to the administration." She turned her back to him. Half an hour later he was again in front of his lockers, changing into his own body armour. Leaving the suppressor behind. Zaryanova was busy on the phone. He hadn't been dismissed so he didn't leave.
After what seemed fifteen minutes a man walked up to him, "Mister McCree, Please follow me." He followed the guy to another exit of the warehouse. A sports car was waiting for him. Leather seats, space for the legs and a well-isolated interior. Zaryanova joined him in the backseat, wearing a grey trench coat and ordered the man to drive. "Kumicho wants to meet you in person, he thinks you're fit to enter into service of the clan." That was good news, "I'd be honoured to meet the head of the Shimada clan." Zaryanova smiled truly for the first time this evening. "He is curious about you. Nobody escapes Overwatch and stays in hiding. At least not for long." She laid her arm over the seats. Her posture seemed like a friendly one. "All I'm saying is that I'm a pretty skilled man." She piano-ed a code into the interface of the middle seat. "Do you want anything to drink? Whiskey, wine, vodka?" What he remembered of his research, usually when criminal bosses started to share drinks with you, you were participating to a ceremony of admission into the clan, the family. "Whiskey 'll do fine." She poured him a glass of whiskey and took Vodka for herself. He wondered if it was her favourite drink. She clearly took pleasure into drinking it; his eyes darted toward her lips. She sipped again and put the glass back down. "Where are we heading, if you don't mind me asking Ma'am?" "Shimada Castle." Already? That was quick, he made a mental note that if the incident occurred again, that he got into Shimada castle, he should check if he was able to place a bug.
Hanamura's village was centuries old. Next to the technologically advanced buildings he couldn't determine if the village was an embellishment or a stain into the landscape. The car stopped and they went further on foot. Some pedestrians were walking the streets, lots of them in traditional clothing. There didn't seem to be a lot of heavy armed defences everywhere. Which could have been evaluated as strange. The noisy arcade was full of kids and some adults accompanying them. The smell of ramen enchanted the air with spicy scents. Hanamura village was quite lively. Further up there was a giant wooden gate. "Normally you would go through a heavy scanning," Zaryanova passed the gate flashing a badge putting her hands up. "Since we have been slightly caught in traffic. It will not be necessary." He decided to enter the same way. The inside of the arch had scanning devices which you were unable to see when looking at it from the other side. There was a perch on the right. A way to infiltrate. There was also a clear shot from the loft upside the café for a sniper. Men were looking at monitors in the small pagoda next to the arch. They talked in English saying that he had weapons on him. Various ones. There was a back terrace next to the perch. Where would it lead to? Zaryanova said she would personally make sure McCree would stay in line. "Unless you are planning an assassination on our Kumicho?" She was looking at him. McCree smiled slightly at her intense gaze. "If I really wanted to assassinate I don't think I would have done this way; announcing myself, leavin' the tracker switched on that you guys have implemented on me when I went on the mission. Or even leavin' you guys with my stuff in a locker." Her jaw was relaxing and she seemed satisfied with his answer. Her eyes lingered on his face. She turned around and gave him a gesture that he should need to follow. The front yard was pretty impressive since you had a clear view on the giant bell in the main pagoda of the front yard. Zaryanova sped up the walking pace. There were employees all over the place. On the upper bridge, the balcony. Noise was coming from the apartment. The lawn and inner courtyard were illuminated with floating lanterns. There were cherry blossom trees everywhere. There was a pavilion on the right. A pathway that lead to the main building, the dojo. Another walkway and a shop on the left. He just couldn't seem to find the cameras if there were any. Some men saluted Zaryanova with a hand wave. She didn't respond back to them. "Take your shoes off," Zaryanova ordered. "Leave them on the shoe rack." He complied, seemed like he would be walking around with white socks. At least the dojo had floor heating.
The entrance hall was impressive. A large scroll centred in the room, a sword was displayed under it as a relic. An old woman rushed toward Zaryanova. Speaking in Japanese. They whispered toward each other ignoring him completely. He studied a bit more the interior. Above the altar there was a wall painting of two dragons, one green, the other blue. They were fighting with each other. There was a path way for outside. Two balconies on every side of the room. The old woman extended her hands toward him. He looked at Zaryanova, not understanding what the woman wanted. After a few seconds his evaluator said: "She wants you to take off your hat and your coat" he was more reluctant to leave the hat off. They were given slippers to continue further. "During the day several students come and practice at the dojo. They work hard to become full fleshed members, agents for the Shimada clan." Zaryanova sat down on one of the cushions that were on the floor. "Can I suppose it's only the elite that are allowed to enter training grounds just like these?" A smile, those deep green eyes were shining with amusement. He sat down next to her. She opened her mouth to answer but got interrupted:
" 'Through the dragon's breath, even the soul freezes. Through the dragon's heart, the spirit exuberates.' Those were the words that my father raised me with, and his father before him and so on."He stood there, tall, strong, his arms crossed and hidden in his traditional green kimono. His hair long, coming to his collarbone. The age lines contouring his mouth, his brow. An expression of indifference adorning his face. A man of beauty, a man of power. The head of the Yakuza and ninja clans combined. A man not to be crossed, a man feared by dozens, but envied by most. McCree would have scrambled himself up, he would have gotten up, he was just transfixed. Hanzo Shimada was everything they had told him he would be. "Zarya, has told me of your performance, most impressive." He hadn't realised she had gotten up however. His eyes were dark, hard, those eyes had killed, tortured, murdered. He felt the hairs upon his neck rising. "I wanted to take a look at you before accepting you to be part of my life's work." Those eyes were boring into his soul. He had been silenced by just one look. A smile, a smirk, "I like to know the strengths and weaknesses of my new recruits. Indulge me into some entertainment." Hanzo cocked his head to the side, the expression on his face changing. A whiff of annoyance appeared in his words: "Well then, American? I'm not often left without answers." McCree broke contact with their eyes, remembering he had strength in his legs to get up. He walked, every step reverberating in his body. He extended his hand. "I'll be more than welcoming to entertain you, sir." Hanzo ignored the extended hand and turned around, Zaryanova following him closely, exactly how a bodyguard would do. She stood just as tall, just as powerful, however closer, like an unseemly connection was relying the both of them. Only a few servants in the corridors, they all bowed to him as he passed. He tried to concentrate on finding cameras, technology that would give out how Shimada Castle was built and defended. But the flow of Hanzo's kimono was distracting him, it flowed like water. He flowed like water, the way he moved. He was in constant high alert.
"Step into the Dojo," Hanzo let him go first; his arms crossed, their bodies not quite touching yet. Hanzo smelled of sandalwood, McCree eyed the collarbone, he was distracted. More than just distracted. This part of the training ground had weapon racks, bows, swords, shurikens and other. It also had target practices. Holographic ones, they absorbed damage done to them. The wall behind was slightly scraped and damaged. Students that would have missed their targets. "Choose your weapon," Hanzo ordered him. Did he have to choose from what was offered on the rack? He couldn't decide, he had never used any of these. He touched a crossbow. Hanzo was scrutinizing him. Shit he had no idea, so honesty was the best course of action. "I have never used any of these." He was going to take the crossbow. In bad case scenario he would get thrown out, mission failed, then someone else was going to take over. Best case scenario he would just humiliate himself. The weapon was heavy, he needed two hands to keep it up. He walked over to the target. He looked through the scope. That looked familiar at least. "If you miss I'll kill you myself," Hanzo issued. He had come closer to the gunslinger. McCree felt like an electric current went through his body. A hand upon his shoulder. Hanzo was trying to get him out of balance. "Aim slightly higher," the Kumicho recommended, whispering in his ear. McCree exhaled, clenching down any feelings of weirdness, turmoil or incomprehension. Worst case scenario he would die. Hanzo's hand left his shoulder, it felt like it had been burnt with fire. Inhale, exhale, concentrate. He aimed for the heart. A first shot. The board flashed yellow, the bolt was lodged barely into the leg of the target. The crossbow recharged automatically. He aimed higher, grounded himself better. Taking a better balance on his two feet. Second shot, the bolt lodged itself into the shoulder, the board flashed yellow. Not too high, not too low. Last possible target. He inhaled, exhaled. Third shot, the board flashed green. He had missed the heart, but not the target. "Shot in the artery, painful death for many." McCree lowered his weapon. Had he passed the test? Hanzo walked up to the weapon rack and took out three arrows and a bow. McCree moved out of the way. Hanzo was fast. All of his shots were headshots. The board flashed purple. The Kumicho hummed satisfied. McCree couldn't help but whistle: "I've gotta admit, you've got style." He permitted himself to unsheathe his peacekeeper and headshot the two other targets. The board flashed purple.
Hanzo turned around, watching the gunslinger re load his gun. "I invite you to dinner." McCree raised an eyebrow. That was an unexpected invitation. Zaryanova was smiling as she was leaning against the door opening of the training room. "To celebrate this new founded friendship, Zarya, make the arrangements. I'm sure we can put Mister McCree on the invitee list." The bodyguard took out her phone and went outside. They were alone. Things were going really more smoothly than anticipated. Hanzo put the bow back on the weapon rack. His face was still tense in concentration, his hair slightly falling in front of his face. "Follow me."Hanzo was out of the room faster than McCree could keep up. They walked down into the main hall to a meeting room. There was a table placed in the middle. The room had dozens of lanterns adorning its ceiling. The Kumicho gestured him to take a seat. Hanzo wasn't making any sounds when he walked. He walked up to the interface of a wall. It opened through his fingerprint recognition. It looked like he was taking out a drink for the both of them. If McCree's research was correct, this was the moment where he would be accepted into the clan. Zaryanova entered the room. She sat down at the table diagonally across from him. Hanzo sat down in front of him. The bodyguard started to pour the sake down the glasses. Damn he hated sake, it just tasted bad. Zaryanova offered him his cup. He looked at the amber liquid. It looked expensive, smelled expensive, and surely would taste most foul. He sipped, Hanzo took most of it in one go. Their eyes crossed. The sly smile was back, adorning his face, making him look like everything had second intentions. Brown dark eyes that were telling a story he didn't know the nature of, he noticed an earring on the left earlobe. Hanzo's pale hand reached out toward McCree's cup. Which they exchanged. McCree took the rest of the cup in. Hanzo laid his lips on the rim of the cup and drank the rest of its content. The Kumicho moved his head slightly as to enjoy the aftertaste, exposing his neck to the gunslinger. His thumb caressed the corner of his lips, moving the missed drop of sake to his tongue. McCree was hypnotized as the gesture felt purely sexual and sensual in nature. Hanzo then extended a hand. McCree was slightly out of it. Hanzo was toying with him. Throwing him again out of balance. He reached for the extended hand. "Welcome to the family, kobun." A beep came from Zaryanova's pocket. "The car is here," she added and got up. He felt like he had to order his legs to move, his heart racing slightly faster. He tapped off his pants, he kept it down to shake his head and wake himself up, when he suddenly noticed something… different. Zaryanova had extended her hand toward the Kumicho. He had taken it. She had helped him up. It was strange that Hanzo had accepted this caring gesture so easily.
"We will be having a meeting with some of my associates." They had returned to the car. Everybody was bowing when Hanzo had passed them. McCree had noticed that even the security officers at the gate had left everything to be able to greet the Kumicho. "I'm there to strike a deal with another merchant's dealer working at the Lijiang tower. He seemed to have information we would like to purchase." It must be pretty important if the head of the Shimada clan himself was downtown to regulate this affair, which looked quite trivial when hearing the synopsis of it. So what was the deal behind it? Hanamura was a busy city, and it wasn't a surprise that when the car stopped they were in one of the most expensive districts. A server opened the door of the car. "This way," another arrived to guide them through the skyscraper. Some people seemed to notice immediately when they arrived. The dinner was organised in the penthouse. Well he certainly felt outta place. This time they didn't ask him to take off his hat or boots. But there were scans for weapons. Which he was allowed to keep bizarrely. The man doing the scan almost recoiled in terror as he had asked the question to make him remove his weapons only to get a dark stare from Hanzo. The man had showered him in apologies. Were there lots of guests? Was it busy? Maybe? Last time he had been to a reception such as this one, was when he had been invited with the whole deadlock gang. It had ended in some kind of fight. Zaryanova seemed kind of out of place as well. McCree scouted the crowd, there was no one he recognised. There was a buffet on the right, a fireplace at the far end of the room. A balcony, where some people were smoking and talking. There were small groups around high tables. A first old man came to greet them, another joined, a third. All extensively greeting Hanzo Shimada. Keeping up appearances as if they weren't all crime lords they were talking about the weather, tournaments, even movies. One older lady arrived to Hanzo's height. The Kumicho and Zaryanova shared a look. She laid a hand upon McCree's shoulder. Had she put perfume on? He hadn't noticed she smelled of roses until now. "This is the moment where you and I idle… Mingle? I think that's what you Americans say?" Zaryanova was dismissing them. Hanzo was looking at them as if expecting him to leave as soon as possible. The older lady looked like she was from Chinese descent. Someone important? Zaryanova guided the both of them to the buffet. "Miss Wong has a distaste for group conversations." McCree searched his memory, trying to recall the name Wong. Nothing came up. The buffet was mostly traditional food, dishes with seaweed, vegetables, salads, something that looked like lotus roots ect. He observed Zaryanova taking a plate, there were no omnics he noticed again. "Who is our contact?" He asked as his former evaluator was picking out from the various baked goods at the end of the table.
"I don't know, they'll come to us more likely. If not directly to Kumicho himself." McCree shrugged and decided to indulge himself and have a plate. If what they had to do was wait he could just as well have dinner. He took some salad, staying away from things he couldn't identify. The squid was looking strange, he opted for a bit of grilled meat. The quantity was a mouthful. It would have looked like a Sunday BBQ if it hadn't been overly made fancy this way. Zaryanova got caught in a conversation with other people. And he suddenly felt like he was without supervision. He decided to go to the balcony, to light up his cigar. Hanzo was still talking to the Wong lady. He seemed slightly annoyed at what he was hearing. McCree took some time to observe the Kumicho further. He actually looked older than he was. They were just a year apart. It was probably the price for being the head crime boss of a clan who dealt in assassinations and illegal arm dealings. Hanzo moved around a bit more, taking some food for himself and talking to other guests. The gunslinger noticed the kumicho using both of his left and right hand equally. There was the beginning of a tattoo on his left wrist. And this ever flowing movement when he walked. It was really like Hanzo had been trained to move like an assassin. He probably had been one before being declared head of the clan Shimada. You needed to have the skill and the birth right tobe the patriarch, the kumicho. It's then when a glass shattered to the ground. In a moment of confusion nobody saw the shadow creeping up. McCree did, and he had unsheathed his gun to the manwho had raised a blade to Hanzo's throat. There was a cry of confusion from a few guests. The head of the Shimada clan had easily intercepted the blade with a hidden katana. Zaryanova arrived and punched the man into the buffet table. They had both seen the assassin coming.
"Shall I shoot 'em sir ?" The gunslinger asked. Hanzo made a gesture with his wrist. His face impassable, indifferent, almost even bored. "That won't be necessary." He wasn't sheathing his gun just yet. The man seemed unconscious however. Zaryanova's eyes were flickering with hate. She removed the man's hood. "Is he dead?" She shook her head as she was taking the pulse. Her whole face was hardened with the will to kill. "Good, bring him to the headquarters. For questioning." Two men dragged the unconscious man out of the room. Zaryanova and Hanzo were looking at each other as if they were having an unspoken dialogue. Her body language was on high alert. Her fists were balled. Her lips pressed against each other. Her cheeks slightly pink. McCree knew what that was. Her anger was fuelled by fear. He had seen the same thing on Jack Morrison's face after there had been an attack on his squad where his partner had been part of. A few minutes after a complete silence someone started talking as if nothing had happened. The usual banter of voices rose again, while waiters started to clean up the mess. It's then that a hand tugged at his sleeve. "Sir, a message for you?" A young girl was looking at him, she looked like a waiter. "Message from the Sombra collective." The look on his face was a puzzled one. She was perhaps the contact they had been waiting for. It was a note, he took a look at it. 'The sector rises, the widow weaves her web. They are preparing.' Handwritten, in English. It sounded obscure and there was a purple sugar skull depicted on the bottom of the note. He looked up, the girl was gone. Hanzo and Zaryanova were nowhere to be seen. He interrupted a waiter passing by. "Where can I find Kumicho Hanzo Shimada and Miss Zaryanova?" The waiter seemed to think for a bit. "I saw them moving toward one of the other meeting rooms. Shall I accompany you?" He raised his hand to dismiss her. "I'll do fine. Just point me in the right direction." The lobby of rooms was a bit more extensive. And quieter. Looked like the incident had attracted all the people in the main room.
He looked around trying to make out where a possible conversation was coming from. The meeting room on the far right had a door that wasn't quite shut. It was indeed his employer and his bodyguard talking. He walked up there quietly, hoping he could get snippets from the conversation they were having. There was sadly too much noise. However the spectacle in front of him was quite strange. For the first time he saw Zaryanova's face relaxed, her green eyes lit up in ways he hadn't considered ever to see. She was talking softly while looking down at Hanzo. They were close. Their bodies in their respective personal space. There was a ghost, a hint of emotion on Hanzo's face. As if a crack had appeared into the shell of invulnerability the man had exhibited since the beginning of the evening. Her hand crept up to his forehead, she caressed a hair lock out of his face. McCree was taken aback by the literal intimate moment he was walking into. They seemed to be in their own bubble. In their own world. Hanzo had his arms crossed replying he was growing tired of waiting. She laughed, telling him he was an impatient man. McCree decided to knock on the door. "I think I got the intel you were waiting for." He flashed the piece of paper to them. They didn't seem disturbed by his entrance. Zaryanova walked up and took the paper from his hands. "It's the message from the Sombra collective." Hanzo looked satisfied, directing a sly smile toward McCree. "Then we have what we came here for." They exited the room, the building. McCree following them closely by.