Edit Note: This was written in Libreoffice and for some reason the export to fanfiction .net completely breaks the way the doc is formatted so know that there's supposed to be line breaks in certain parts that I'll replace with a line of Xs signifying a scene transition for convenience.
Also spaces between lines don't seem to be working correctly either so I'll try to see what I can do as soon as possible
Chapter II
The outside of the Houston police station was a hive of activity. Crowds, reporters, barricades set up by armoured policemen cordoning off the station from anyone who wanted to get close. Inside the station the air was less frantic but still energized.
"He leapt off the train? That's nuts" one of the younger rookie cops took a sip from his coffee as other officers clustered around his desk, deep in discussion.
"Any faster and he might have lost another limb or two. The train slowed to let him off for some reason. Didn't help him in the long run though" on the desk lay a crumpled old wanted poster dating back years when the Deadlock gang was at it's peak. A picture of a grizzled cowboy front and centre, cigar hanging out of the corner of his mouth.
It read:
WANTED
Dead or Alive
Jesse McCree
$60,000,000
"All the things I've heard I'm surprised he gave up so easily" another piped in.
Their eyes raked the poster up and down but their focus was broken when the Captain shook them from their trance.
"It ain't your break time fellas so look alive. Collins, I want you to let me know if Interpol calls back and let me know their ETA" Captain Marston sudden appearance dispersed the officers. She paused to look over the poster herself. She remembered that not too long ago this face was plastered all over Overwatch victory propaganda posters instead of wanted posters.
"Yes Ma'am, on it" Officer Collins obliged her with a small salute.
She nodded before moving through to the cell area, passing through two locked doors, each one staffed by an officer who watched her swipe her key-card through a scanner before she was allowed to enter.
There were six cells in this block, temporary holding areas while waiting for backup to move them to more secure locations. She entered from one of the doors at each end of the block. Iron bars along with bullet proof glass adorned each cell. Since they were only temporary and rarely in use it was quite outdated. Other, better facilities had forcefields to better contain prisoners.
Only two were occupied currently. The first was laying on a stretcher, hand cuffed to the metal railing. Disarmed but still partially garbed in black op gear, face masked by a helmet they couldn't remove. The soldier seemed out of it but taking two bullets through the shoulder and chest would do that to you. Marston grimaced.
They had no idea who this guy was or the others that McCree had gunned down on that train. The passengers had given their side of the story, stating that McCree had saved them and gunned down the masked men when they had tried to hijack the train but that's not what her superiors and the higher ups on the phone wanted to hear.
"You have McCree though?" the voice on the other end of the line had rasped.
"Yes sir but there's also another suspect who we'd like to retain custody of"
"No, we'll take both. The others were most likely his crew. They took something extremely valuable and dangerous. Keep them locked down and don't let anyone else move them before we get there" the voice had promptly ended the call and she had found herself looking into her silent com-link in bewilderment. Rude Europeans she assumed. She hadn't even been given a moment to protest. She could imagine they'd be a lot more talking when they got here.
The cell at the other end housed McCree who hadn't said much of anything to anyone other than a few polite nods and a few thanks when he had been given some meagre food. He was lounging on the large stone cinder block that acted as a bed. He unconsciously went to tip his hat when he saw her but that had been confiscated along with his gun, flash-bangs, poncho and a hidden transmitter.
"Howdy" he greeted her contentedly. She eyed him up. Strange that he seemed so at home in a cell like this. She remembered his face being displayed proudly at a museum exhibit dedicated to Overwatch.
"Morning" She replied before turning to leave.
"Aw leaving so soon? Haven't had a visitor in ages" He called out.
"So you're talking now? Ready to talk about what happened on the train?" she inquired. He grinned at that and sat up straight.
"Didn't those nice folk tell you? I didn't start no fight"
"So a bunch of black op and a notorious bounty hunter just happened to be on the same train, who showed up at the same time for the same reason?"
"Look, they weren't my friends and I don't have a clue what they were after but the people on that train meant nothing to them. I did what I had to do" McCree stood and up, crossing his arms.
"One them identified you by name though?" she had heard that from one of the witnesses that one of the black op soldiers had called out McCree's name.
"Well I'm quite recognisable if you hadn't noticed darlin'" he ran a hand back through his hair absent-mindedly. His arrogance was more than grating on her nerves so she wanted to cut him back down to size.
"Yes you are. Already big news that we caught you. Interpol heard and is coming to pick you up right now" something about her statement made McCree's cocky seemingly permanent grin fade away.
"I'm not wanted by Interpol. I'm not guilty of any international crimes. My slate was cleared when I joined..." McCree stopped short.
"Overwatch?" she finished his thought but McCree had visibly paled. He closed the distance between himself and the Captain, reaching the glass wall and clasping the iron bars with his hands
"Darlin'… Captain…," McCree squinted at her name badge, "Marston, I have a confession. I've been buying time. My ride out of here is coming soon but whoever else is coming, it ain't Interpol. You have to let me out now!" Jesse hissed, emphasising the panic in his voice.
"Of course, you sound completely legit righ-" her sarcasm was cut off as McCree reached out and grabbed her arm.
"My gun quickly" he begged before she ripped her arm away. Her shout died in her throat as the wounded black op soldier in the cell at the end of the block started to scream. It was ear piercing and full of terror.
Alongside the scream she heard shots ring out in the station. She gave one last look to McCree's pleading eyes before backing up to the locked door behind her.
She swiped her card and burst out of the cell block. The officer who had been guarding the door was dead, slumped over in his seat.
A bullet whizzed by her head and she dropped behind the desk. Her officers were taking cover behind their desks, firearms out but the constant barrage of shots were keeping them effectively pinned down. She peeked out just as another shot rang out, she followed the grey tracer of the sniper's bullet and caught sight of a figure on the rooftop across the street.
"Sniper on the east rooftop!" She shouted across the room.
She could hear the crowd screaming in a mass panic outside as more shots rang out, shattering windows and whizzing overhead.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
She weren't many things she enjoyed any more other than the satisfaction of a job well done. But Talon had shown her the truth. The world was a numb, grey void, full of apathy but it was brief moments like this that made it seem colour had been restored to her world. The tension and adrenaline when she instilled terror into her targets as she spied down her scope.
So close as to see the white of their eyes. Her cross-hair lingered over one cowardly man hiding behind his desk unaware that he was exposed from this angle. This one would be sweet but almost too easy.
It had been easy, right up until the orange blur zipped right into her sights.
"Time's up!" Twin bursts of hot blue pulse ammunition filled the air around her. Widowmaker sprung backwards from the edge of the rooftop as Tracer blinked into view. Tracer hit the roof and ground to a stop, pistols focused on the assassin.
"Amélie, stop this… please" Tracer tried to reason but the assassin dived forward slamming her rifle butt into the young girl's head in an instant. She seized Tracer's arm just as she tried to blink and teleported with her across the rooftop alongside her.
"Seems you didn't learn your lesson last time chéri" Widowmaker fired her grappling hook out before slipping the wire around Tracer's neck. Widow kicked the girl's legs out from underneath her. Lena dropped her pistols and grabbed at the wire as she hit the ground. Just as the wire tightened about her throat Tracer vanished. A second later she popped back into existence with her pistols in her hands.
"Alright my turn"
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
Jesse backed away from the bars as the screaming died down from the other cell. The silence that followed was broken by heavy footfalls as the dark hooded terrorist walked into view.
"Jesse McCree, back in jail. Too much of a boyscout for his own good" the warped voice mocked from behind the white mask.
"Howdy tall, dark and creepy. 'Fraid I can't stick around long, got business elsewhere"
"Shut up. You're not going anywhere" Reaper snarled before he dissipated into a thick black smoke. It drifted towards the cell before spreading to the corners and edges of the glass before beginning to seep through the gaps and into the cell.
"Well I'll be damned..." he swore as he backed up to the far wall.
Captain Marston burst back into the cell block, his revolver in her hand. In her other hand a flash-bang. She hurled the black cylinder right into the glass, exploding and causing the black smoke to retreat, disengaging from the door. She ran to the door and opened the hatch for delivering food and slid his revolver to him.
The black smog circled away from the cell and down to the floor, reforming.
Marston was jamming a key into the lock when the masked man materialized out of the smoke. He swept his trench coat back and pulled out two black short barrelled shotguns. Marston was like a deer in headlights as Reaper took aim.
"MOVE! GET OUT OF THE WAY!" McCree pounded his fists on the glass, like he could have stopped what was about to happen. The key clicked into place and the door fell open and McCree with it. The first shot was taken by the bulletproof glass, the next shot hit the cyborg cowboy in his right hip, taking him to his knees.
"Arghh… sonova..." McCree grabbed the police captain and pulled her into the cell while clutching at his side.
"It's high noon, cowboy" Reaper laughed as he continued the barrage of gunfire.
"I guess that makes me the sheriff" the black clad mercenary spun around in surprise at the voice behind him just in time to catch a trio of helix rockets to the chest. The resulting explosion shook the building and triggered the fire alarm.
76 emerged from his cover at the end of the hall, training his rifle on where the dead mercenary would have been but as the smoke cleared it seemed all that had been left behind was blackened scorch mark on the floor and walls. Reaper was nowhere to be seen.
"Appreciate the timely rescue stranger" McCree grunted as he squeezed his side. 76 crouched down beside him and the police captain, checking the gunslinger's wounds. Reaper hadn't hit anything vital with most of the buckshot passing through cleanly though he was bleeding badly.
"You'll live soldier but we have to move now" 76 offered his red gloved hand to McCree who took it. He pulled the wounded cowboy up and lent him his shoulder. The police captain Marston watched them go without saying a word, later on she'd regret not wishing him luck.
"Winston, I've got him. Where are you?" 76 pressed the com-link in his ear as he helped the limping cowboy out of the police station, fire alarm still blaring.
"I'm bringing the ship to you, hold on" Winston's voice came through and a few seconds later the drop ship sped into view before rapidly descending onto the street. The ramp deployed and 76 was helping Jesse get on board when he caught sight of the large crowd watching them as they cowered behind the police barricades. The faces contorted in fear and loathing weren't any easy to confront then they had been years ago. He turned and climbed up the ramp.
"Tracer, we've completed the objective. Get back to the ship now" Winston sat at the controls of the ship as it hovered over the rooftops. There was a brief silence before a response came through the coms.
"I'm on my way!" Tracer chirped. It might have just been the coms but to 76 she sounded out of breath. An orange blur with blue after trail came zipping across the rooftops towards the drop-ship. Loud cracks from a sniper rifle boomed in the distance and grey tracers filled the air around Lena. 76 ran to the open ramp door as Tracer neared the ship.
She sprinted up the last roof top and leapt for the ramp. The ship tilted unexpectedly as bullets ricochetted off the cockpit and the outer hull. She wasn't going to make it. He dropped to his chest at the edge of the ramp and put his arm out which Lena caught barely at the last second, pulling hard on his jacket.
"Winston! Bring the ramp up now!" he shouted over the droning of the ship's turbines. The ramp swung up as 76 pulled Lena up and inside as the ship ascended and left the streets of Houston behind.
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX