Gabriel Reyes was losing his mind. He didn't just think so, he knew so. And soon, everyone else would know. It wasn't the controlled crazy he was famous for in the U.S. armed forces, or the Special Ops division of Overwatch. It was not the formidable resolve that sent him into doomed situations time and again only to retrieve victory from the maw of certain disaster, it was just…crazy. He knew, because he was staring at a woman that no one else could see. A woman he was pretty sure wasn't there. A woman he was pretty sure…he had seen before. Two of his men stood behind him, chatting amiably, as the train they were about to hijack and plunder steamed further across Europe. They had no idea the man beside them was slowly coming unhinged. The more he saw her, with her Madeline hat and flowery sun dress, the more irritated he became…with everything. They had to be somewhere in France by now. Couldn't they just stop this thing and take the weapons, yet?
The woman smirked knowingly at him. Her kind face was betrayed by the sinister look in her eyes. She knew his mind. He scowled in her general direction, which was lounging casually across the seats just next to the two men. They probably thought he was scowling at them. Oh, well.
Just as disturbing as the fact that he was seeing a woman no one else could see, who could seemingly read his thoughts, was the anger. He had kept control of it so far, but just barely. And he didn't know why. It was simply there from the moment he awoke to the moment he went to sleep. Was it the loss of control? He, who prided himself on surgical precision, being taken down…by something that didn't even exist? It pissed him off more just thinking about it. She threw her head back and laughed, a phantom cackle just for him.
He shifted his stance, leaning against the wall of the car, looking out the window as the scenery went by. All they needed was the signal from Jesse to begin the second phase of the operation. The signal would be obvious; the train would begin to brake unexpectedly. Hopefully it didn't run off the tracks or something idiotic. That had happened. The eventual plan was to move car by car, purging the Omnic supporters, and liberate their weapons... Of course, anything really worthwhile would never make it back to Overwatch HQ. Pretty boy Morrison didn't need to know that. Fuck, what is wrong with me? Jack was…his friend. They used to be best friends. But they had been growing apart. Gabriel thought it was simply a matter of working on separate teams, but the angrier he became at everything, the more he wanted to blame Jack for the bad things that happened to him. Jack always seemed to get the praise, while he got the blame when things went awry. He supposed being tall, dark, and scary made him a convenient scapegoat, but he wanted to believe in his friend. It was just becoming…harder to do. He shifted with impatience, ignoring the woman and her sadistic smile five feet away. They just had to get far enough away from everything to begin. No collateral damage, this time. Hopefully.
His glare must have been unsettling the two other men, who had stopped talking and stared forward, waiting with visible anxiety that wasn't there before. They were all dressed in identical pale gray and khaki, bristling with knives and pistols under long black coats. They wore no identification that would let anyone know which organization they belonged to. But if shit hit the fan, everyone would know. The undercover ops got in enough trouble without anyone being sure it was they who were breaking the rules outright, though. Even if that was how things got done. Not with politicking, negotiating, etc., but with action. Reyes wished Morrison would come around, but some people just had to be loved. And politics had sucked him in. Cynical reality versus idealism…would their fate be sealed by internalizing such opposing truths?
The sudden screech of metal on metal coupled with an abrupt jerk in the fluid forward motion of the train informed the men that it was time. The lights went out, though that wasn't much cover, as daylight poured in through large windows on either side of the cars. Wordlessly, they moved forward methodically and without hesitation, at a slight crouch with rifles at the ready. Reyes wondered what had taken so long. The woman only he could see smiled and followed him silently through the darkened cars.
If there was anything bothering him more than the fact that he knew he was slipping, it was the fact that he had seen the woman before. He just couldn't remember where. Brow furrowed in concentration as he slipped from one cleared car into the next, it was his last thought before his body jerked to the side involuntarily. As the bullet entered, he cursed himself for not paying more attention. He hit the deck on flat his back, not on purpose. The air whooshed from his lungs. His eyes stung with involuntary tears, as an overwhelming heaviness took over his body. The woman stood over him and laughed. A firefight broke out over his head, but he was as helpless as a lamb. He had no idea how many they were up against, or how his team was doing. He surmised that they'd likely stumbled upon the cache, and his head was so out of the game that he walked right into a bullet like an amateur. Worse, now he was lying ineffectually on his back while his subordinates did all the work. The great Gabriel "Reaper" Reyes, taken out on a straight forward heist because he was daydreaming about a woman. And not even a good woman. His daydream was a psychotic Madeline.
After a while, the din quieted and one of the men—Riley—knelt down to check on him. Without a word he removed a small emergency aid kid from a standard issue field pack they all carried. "You look a little rough there, boss" the former marine mused. He didn't meet Gabe's eyes as he spoke, working methodically, to assess the damage and determine the best course of action.
"Disrobing me already? You haven't even bought me dinner," he choked, trying to quell the involuntary shudders that wracked his limbs. The young man forced a smile at the awkward joke. He had to remove Gabriel's jacket and cut away part of his gray sleeve to treat the wound.
"I'm good, I'll be alright" he muttered, forcing himself to sit part of the way up and take in his surroundings. Riley adjusted his angle to compensate, but never ceased in his ministrations. They were surrounded by crates stacked from floor to ceiling. The next three cars were identical minus the six bodies in this one. They were all labeled "medical supplies." Gabriel snorted, and gestured towards them. "Please tell me that's the stash."
Riley grinned "Yes boss, and we're going to look and see if there's anything good in there before extraction gets here. But if you want anything, you'll have to get off your ass." He had already administered a coagulant into Reye's wound to stop the bleeding, and a shot of morphine to numb the pain. The levity must mean the wound wasn't too serious. It was also a kindness Reyes wasn't used to getting. Hell, he wasn't used to getting injured. The woman smirked over Riley's shoulder as he finished administering first aid to his boss. She tilted her chin and drew a finger in a line slowly from one side of her neck to the other in a sickening gesture. He sat up the rest of the way, and with the help of the other man, clambered to his feet. He felt like shit. Worse, he knew he needed a real doctor's attention. That bullet was probably in there doing real damage. The injection would only keep him from bleeding out, and the morphine would keep him from thinking about how bad it was until it was too late.
"Check this out, boss!" the other man hailed to them from the front of the car. That was Stentson, the other and less medically inclined of the two. He and Reyes had shared a lot of time in the military together, so he was comfortable with Reyes' cantankerous demeanor, while Riley just seemed adaptable to anything. There was a hint of what might pass as concern on the man's face. Probably wondering if I'm going to kick the bucket so he can get more guns.
Stentson had pried the first crate open to reveal what was within. Not weapons like they were told to expect. Spare parts. Lots of them. He and Riley continued opening crates. Buckets of bolts, panels, circuit boards, etc. that could and would be used to create more of the murder machines that could shift from bipedal soldiers to stationary Gatling guns without preamble. Those things had taken down more people Reyes' knew in his lifetime than every other worldly ill combined, in less than a year's time. They had the advantage over mankind in every way. Their masters were also artificially intelligent, human like in visage, but without the impediment of mortality. Worse, rights organizations would often advocate for the robots, saying it was not their fault, that they had been tampered with. As if that made them less dangerous. Hundreds of thousands dead…because of a hopped up computer virus. Even as their kind murdered indiscriminately and remorselessly, there were groups that advocated "peace between Omnic and human" as if such a thing were possible. As if a few lines of code couldn't corrupt their "peaceful" friends in a heartbeat. The best Omnic was a dead Omnic, Reyes thought, and he was just the man to take them down, even if the stuffed shirts didn't care for his methods.
Jesse McCree shared his opinion, at least about the higher ups. They never engaged in deep political discussions, but it was the bond which held Blackwatch together. The willingness to do what needed to be done to save mankind from what they had created. Technology was amazing, Reyes was the first to admit it as he was not bleeding out on the floor of the car where the mercenaries had shot him. But it had a dark side. A dark and twisted side. Even a man like him, a man who didn't mind killing for profit, had enough moral compass to see that. Corpses now littered the car, almost an afterthought, as the men rifled through he crates. The advanced team entered the car from the front, having swept the train clear of resistance from the forward compartments.
"How's it going back here?" A man with a deeply southern accent stepped through the sliding doors into their car. He too, wore the bland fatigues, but he carried a 6-shooter and wore a cowboy hat in defiance of all organizational regulations. Reyes respected that. He was going to have to get his own gimmick one day. Probably…not country western though. Being from L.A., he doubted his ability to pull off The Duke.
Obviously injured and leaning against the wall to support himself, Reyes smirked. "Oh, you know, same as usual. Murder, mayhem…professionally, of course..." Despite the dull roar coming from the bullet hole, he couldn't help but take a jab at a man he had respect for, though he wasn't able to keep the strain from his voice completely. "What the hell took so long, though? I expected to be done with this a couple hours ago." When he moved away from the wall a streak of blood remained where he had been standing. Jesse arched a brow, while Riley and Stenton continued to sift the crates just in case there was something more interesting.
"Oh, you know how setting explosives can be delicate business. It takes exactly the right amount if you don't want to blow yourself sky fucking high. Oh, and you have to be careful about when you set them off as well." The man rolled his eyes at Reyes' facetiously as he spoke. He was surreptitiously eyeballing the bullet hole in Reyes shoulder as well. "Our extraction team is inbound, so we should be back at HQ within a couple hours. They'll blow this scrap heap, so hang on until then." Reyes' had to keep himself from openly sneering until Jesse turned his back. He was not an injured kitten. He was a grown man…and he would not be condescended to about an injury. A rare injury. He was about to say something when he noticed the woman in the corner laughing at him. This time, he did sneer. Nobody noticed.