Title: The Bodyguard
Rating: Explicit
Words: 7,450
Summary: McCree is sent in for another mission. Another opportunity arises to prove himself

Author's note : Voyeurism and sexual content ahead

A few weeks passed. He had intercepted and smuggled, relied information and killed. His missions were most of the time with a team. But it didn't look like he had to shoot them all dead when the mission came to an end. He had gotten a small apartment right outside Shimada village, with view on the castle. Accommodations given by Hanzo Shimada himself. At his biggest surprise the place wasn't bugged. But the landlady was spying on him however. He had upgraded the apartment with cameras and other things, a complete communication scrambler being one of them. Nobody was able to record anything in the apartment because the devices would all shut down. McCree had made the small apartment into his base of operations. He hadn't seen the head of the Shimada clan since the dinner, they had crossed in hallways but never talked. Zaryanova was, however, the one who was actively giving the mission briefings. There wasn't much of a connection yet with the team. Most of them ignored him completely unless they were working on the same assignment. Only once had he broken the nose of one of them because they had insulted him. It was quite different from where he had come from. Teammates that could be friends, or at least enjoyable enough to get an 'after work' drink with. Things were lonely and rigid here. Zaryanova talked to him once in a while but always made it a point to stay professional. She usually complimented his performances and made jokes about being on the battlefield, but something was happening behind the scenes, for which he wasn't close enough yet to know what it was entailing.

He had in the meantime understood that the cameras in Shimada castle were settled inside the lamps. Someone had been repairing one that had gotten a lost arrow from a student in its mechanism. He was still working on mapping them all. He had yet to get clearance for the meeting rooms on the upper levels of the Castle. He was waiting for an opportunity to facilitate this. Sitting on his bed half-dressed in his underwear and a T-shirt, he was smoking a cigarette. His hands browsing, looking over the pictures his hidden recording device had recorded. They were from the dinner event with the assassination attempt. He hadn't been able to put names on everyone yet. Lady Wong however, was the wife of the Hip Sing Tong leader, Ju-Zhang Wong. There had been a major drug bust in one of their warehouses the same day as the dinner. Whatever she and Hanzo had been talking about was still unknown to him. Two other men had been identified as local gang leaders. Nothing major from them, they were both stationed in different warehouses over the city. He hadn't gotten any information about the Sombra collective. It seemed like it didn't exist, erased from any official record. All he had found was that it meant shadow in Spanish. McCree had contacted an omnic hacker to look into it. How Hanzo had gotten in contact with the Sombra collective, how he had bought the cryptic information was still a complete mystery as well.

He laid down the pictures, having stared at them for too long. He glanced at the computer that he had installed. A full on projection of the analyses that he had run were busy flashing around. A small list of names was being selected out. He had gotten access to the street cameras of Hanamura, cross references were being made. McCree tapped out his cigarette. Results had been inconclusive. But he had only been here for less than a month. His contact with Hanzo being minimal at best and Zaryanova excluding him from certain pieces of information, it was normal he hadn't understood yet how the Shimada clan was organised. The confusing part was that Zaryanova acted both as a bodyguard for Hanzo and as a first lieutenant. Maybe Hanzo liked to have his employees as close as family? Maybe there was more behind the scenes he wasn't seeing. Maybe it had something to do with whatever relationship Hanzo and Zaryanova were maintaining. They were close. Every time the Kumicho travelled he had Zaryanova at his side. He had talked to one of the administration officers and they had said that the bodyguard had come in not long after Hanzo had become head of the Shimada clan. Maybe they had known each for longer than it seemed.

He lit another cigarette as his pager started to go off. Grunting with the effort of standing up, he reached out for his pants and fished the pager out of his pocket. A code flashed, he was summoned to the Shimada castle. It took him ten minutes to get dressed and to be out of the apartment. It was warmer outside for once. He coded a self-destruct mechanism if anyone tried to pry open his computer research. His hands were full of empty takeout boxes that he had stacked up in his kitchen, and threw them in the nearest bin. The streets looked busier, more people were out and the arcade was as noisy as ever. He had gotten a badge, and even waved hello to the security guards at the door. Which they returned, wishing him a good afternoon. There were students running around with weapons or jogging around the castle. Usually Zaryanova was to be found in one of the apartments above the armoury. He let a group of students pass him before going up. McCree reached the door to Zaryanova's office, and found it closed. Two men told him that she wasn't there but on the training ground behind the dojo. He went on his way. Zaryanova's office was visibly guarded when she wasn't there. Unless he used a grappling hook to get through the window on the other side of the building, there was no way to enter her office otherwise.

The dojo was busy and when he walked through the patio, Suzuki-the head medical officer-crossed his path. Her tiny glasses were sitting low on her nose. "Ah, McCree," she was one of the few people who talked to him in more words than one sentence replies. "Out for a mission ?" McCree tipped his hat to her. "Surely will soon." Suzuki looked at her data pad typing things in with one hand, "I have checked the sample you brought in. The lab results were negative, the person's blood didn't seem to exhibit any kind of disease and so forth, the toxicology test was negative as well. Apart from a slight iron deficiency, nothing that a meat dish couldn't fix, it seems like the owner of the blood was just a healthy young man." McCree nodded, "Thank you, doctor, can I have a full report on it sent in? Then I can rely it to Zaryanova." She rearranged her glasses, looking up to him. "It will be done, good luck on your soon to be mission." They exchanged a smile and both went their own way. He continued to the training ground behind the dojo. Voices were heard and as he came closer right around the corner, Zaryanova was leaning against the wall looking at the archery target practice. Her suit was English cut this time. The back of her hair trimmed shorter, her arms crossed. She seemed relaxed. He couldn't help but notice the slight deformation around the shoulder era, where she was keeping her firearm at all times. Seemed like she was having two of those on every side today.

Hanzo was talking in Japanese to one of the students. McCree only registered some words that said, 'mission', 'killing' and 'target'. His kimono was different than the one he usually wore, the left sleeve was shorter, and it was grey in colour. A dragon tattoo was peeking out from under it, which seemed to cover his forearm. He had attached his hair backwards showing the areas that were beginning to grey. The pupil bowed as the Kumicho continued his explanation. "How long has the training been going on?" Zaryanova turned her head to McCree. She checked her watch. "An hour," she replied. "We'll soon be done with this training." Whether Hanzo had noticed the gunslinger arriving or not, the Kumicho wasn't paying him any attention. Instead he focused on what his pupil was about to do. Which was shooting an arrow with a bow longer than half his size. The arrow lodged itself not too far off the centre, which didn't seem to appeal to the head of the Shimada clan. McCree didn't need to have a translation to understand a disappointed tone. The student bowed deeper down making an apology. Hanzo issued an order in Japanese and the four other students stopped their target practice. His voice low, one went over to remove the 'badly' shot arrow. Zaryanova stood upright, her body language changing slightly. McCree frowned, wondering what was going on. Hanzo then lowered his left kimono sleeve; liberating his arm.

The tattoo was covering him from wrist to shoulder and started on his pectoral. McCree unconsciously trailed his eyes over the strong back muscles, the way they moved, the way the spine was slightly revealed, how the skin was exposed regardless of the cold air around them. The neck line was revealed as a short wind gushed through his hair, the ribbon in his hair moving like silk. The Kumicho stood tall and grounded. Hanzo extended his hand in a gracious movement. The student gave the bow he had just shot with. The archer aligned himself with the target. The same student held a quiver full of arrows to his teacher. Hanzo hand brushed the wood, the hand gesture delicate in its nature, his fingers closing around its end. McCree wished he had been closer somehow and unconsciously took a step forward. Zaryanova was being just as attentive to what was happening but they were not noticing each other. Hanzo pulled the bowstring, an arrow at its tip, he was holding a second one in the same hand. He drew the weapon toward the target. The skin of his back moved over the muscles, his shoulders straightened. McCree was hypnotised. A moment of silence. The sounds around the castle diminished as if there was nothing else. Hanzo released the arrow. It arrived in the exact centre of the target. Nobody dared to move. In total calmness and concentration Hanzo recharged his bow, putting the arrow in the arrow rest. He raised his weapon of choice once again. His eyes unmoving, Hanzo released the arrow. It pierced the second one, right in the middle, lodging itself right where the first arrow had been. McCree blinked once, twice, his mind not quite understanding what he just had seen. And he had seen it right. There were sounds of awe coming from the students as some of them walked up to the target to admire the deed. Hanzo turned his head toward the gunslinger. McCree felt goosebumps all over his arms. He had been holding his breath. The dark eyes made contact with his. McCree drowned, his heartrate picking up slightly. He needed a smoke. Zaryanova gritted something Russian between her teeth, but she had a smile on her face. Hanzo broke eye contact, his eyes shifting to Zaryanova and then back to McCree. He turned his back to address his pupils: "I accept nothing but the best, in battle there is no room for error. Never be a second best, be the best."

McCree lit up a cigarette. Realising that the reason why Hanzo was talking in English was because the Kumicho wanted him to understand as well. The students nodded and bowed to him as he put the bow back in the weapon rack. McCree lowered his hat slightly, dragging from his cigarette, trying to clench down his eyeing toward the still partially unclothed collarbone Hanzo was showing. The Kumicho walked past him. "I would appreciate you not smoking on the training ground." His voice was hard and McCree took out the cigarette from his mouth almost immediately. His spine shivering. "My apologies, sir." Zaryanova joined Hanzo. McCree followed them. He crushed out his smoke against the nearest bin to throw it away. They were going back into the Shimada castle; as they took off their shoes, Hanzo laid a hand on Zaryanova's arm. He whispered something in her ear. "It shall be done," she replied. Hanzo took his leave without another look. McCree followed the first lieutenant up the stairs to the third floor. Zaryanova invited him to sit in the meeting room. A simple desk, drawers, chairs, there wasn't much difference with Zaryanova's office. Minus the framed pictures of her doing bodybuilding and winning various prices. "What will today's mission entail?" He asked as Zaryanova was pouring herself a glass of water in one of the couches. "A drink? Water? Coffee?" she asked. He poured himself a coffee.

"The Kumicho decided to give you the briefing. This mission is important enough for him to make sure the information is passed on directly." McCree sat back on the couch diagonally from Zaryanova. She was checking her phone. "I didn't know sir Hanzo himself gave lessons to the students." Zaryanova looked up at him, studiously looking at McCree. "I mean, I'm sure that the man has other things to do than to train recruits. I may be wrong, I ain't no expert on how this is all workin' here. Just wonderin'." He was curious if she was going to take the bait. He was genuinely interested, but it was a good opportunity to discover more about Hanzo's daily schedule. Which he so far knew nothing about.

"It has been a tradition for centuries, there are no other experts, Kumicho is the best archer and swordsman of the clan. A place he earned in blood and strength. He trains the ones that worthy. The elite ones. They represent the clan, in their abilities, aptitude and determination. Training with the Kumicho isn't a game. You're the best or you're not. Very few fail the trials he imposes and the tests of strength he challenges you to do." McCree had never seen Hanzo pick up a sword. There was something about this piece of information that was pointing toward… something. The detail sounded major and important. But he couldn't put his finger on what it was yet. "Being crowned the best is an honour, an achievement. You'll be trained to be the pride, a symbol of the clan, an assassin." Zaryanova's face beamed both with pride and challenge. As if long ago she had had similar goals and motivation. "I never saw you pick up a sword however, ma'am." Her voice boomed out in laughter at his comment. It surprised him. It was the first time he had heard her laugh, ever. His lips broke a smile. "A sword? I think that the only thing close to it I ever used is a knife. In boot camp we used to train with actual knives and have illegal ring fights with them to blow off steam." She pointed toward her eyebrow, "It's how I got this." She traced her scar with her fingers. "Swords are long, too encumbering, it takes another skill to wield them. Give me something with real firepower, something that shoots." She playfully balled her fist toward him smiling. Zaryanova seemed passionate, happy by the subject. Just like a soldier would. McCree's heartrate rose slightly. Zaryanova was an attractive woman when she let her herself be led into conversation about a subject she liked. Her eyes shone of interest, her body movements grew more excited and more relaxed. She usually had a stiffer attitude. "I think you would agree." The question was obviously directed toward him. He seemed to consider. He indeed preferred guns, "Swords and bows are a bit old fashioned to me." Mid-sentence the sliding door opened to give place to Hanzo who had taken his time to change into his usual kimono. "And yet, I would best you." McCree rose an eyebrow at the comment. The Kumicho had let his hair loose once again. He calculated the appropriate course of action. Being too defensive would make him look like a fool. Too attacking would anger the Kumicho. And his boss was obviously waiting for a reply to his comment. "I'm sure we'll be able to test that out one day. To my knowledge nothin' is faster than a bullet." Hanzo's eyes, a sly smile, "Don't be too eager, I don't want to kill you just yet." The arrogance in his voice woke up a feeling of rebellion in McCree. As if he wanted to prove the man wrong. To prove he was the man's equal. It was almost reeling. "So I heard you have a new mission for me." Hanzo approached Zaryanova and gave her the data pads he was holding. "That is exact."

Zaryanova took a look and gave McCree a data pad. Hanzo circled the couches and sat down on the one opposite to McCree. "This is a mission I would qualify as both dangerous and challenging." The data pad seemed to be full of ground plans of a building. The floors were both underground and above the surface. He seemed to recall the logo on the main frame. "I want you to recuperate something very peculiar." Zaryanova put down the data pad and projected in big an image of a snowflake shaped device. McCree moved closer to the projection to study the details. "What is that?" Hanzo crossed his arms, "Something very valuable that might change the tide of an upcoming war." Cryptic as always. "So is it just a good simple pickup mission? What's the catch, there is one, otherwise you wouldn't ask me." Zaryanova filled in: "You'll have to infiltrate the Vishkar Corporation as a logistic employee. Someone will have left a case in a cabinet closet on the third underground floor."Hanzo gestured toward the wall. "Zarya if you please…" Zaryanova got up and went to the wall typing something into the interface. She took a small box out of the safe. She extended it to Hanzo. "Do you know what this is Mister McCree ?" Hanzo gave him the box to open it. There was a small device enclosed into a stud earring. "What 's that? A tracker?" He had never seen anything like it. "A DNA scrambler." He looked up to Zaryanova, how was this possible. "A DNA scrambler? Does it change your DNA readings?" Zaryanova crossed her arms smiling, "Almost… this copies any DNA reading and displays it as your own. It hides you from any infrared reading at will if you activate it as such. You're like a ghost. The machines won't see you either." He whistled in admiration. Not yet daring to touch it, this tech was incredibly dangerous and powerful, a bit terrifying even. He had never seen anything alike.

Hanzo took the conversation over, his voice calm, his eyes studying the gunslinger by every inch. "For this operation to succeed, you'll have no other devices on you." McCree couldn't keep the surprise from appearing on his face. No devices? Not even a commlink? Was this another test? And why was this happening now? Had he really earned enough trust already to do this? To say he was slightly startled by the mission parameters was an understatement. "No, tracking? No microphone? An operation completely off the grid?" The Kumicho cocked his head to the side, his hair falling slightly towards his collarbone, exposing his neck, his hand gesturing toward the package McCree was supposed to recuperate. "Are you telling me you are unable to do this?" The gunslinger shook his head, not jumping into a defensive position just yet. "Ain't saying that either." He defied Hanzo's scrutinizing eyes, or tried to, this mission was made for his abilities. He'd prove it. "You'll be flying with one of my private jets, the flight takes 4 hours. You'll be dropped and picked up at two different spots in the city." The Kumicho stood up, which McCree mimicked. "Zarya will equip you with the necessary equipment in the armoury. She will teach you how to use the cloaking device properly. One more thing…" Hanzo crossed his arms. "You will not talk about this mission to anyone, you won't reveal the existence of any tech I have given you, you will not be seen or heard by anyone. This mission is secret and I wish it to remain so." Somehow that made McCree's spine shiver, he bowed, avoiding Hanzo's gaze. The Kumicho's voice was cautionary, his tone menacing. It didn't intimidate the gunslinger, but it made him vigilant. "Can't wait to get started then." He didn't extend a hand, knowing Hanzo wouldn't take it. Zaryanova was right behind him when he reached the door. The Kumicho rose his voice one last time.

"Mister McCree, I trust you to bring back this tech as it was. If there is any chance I even suspect you are intending to sell or copy what I have entrusted you…" McCree felt the urge to turn around to face the man, but knew that it could be interpreted as being defiant. So he doubled up his desire and just looked at the sliding door. "…you will feel the wrath of the Dragon, I'm a man without mercy, you don't want to make an enemy out of me." The hairs on the gunslinger's neck rose, turning himself slightly to address the Kumicho without wanting to make contact with the piercing brown eyes. "There ain't a chance in hell I'll be doing that. I'll even bring it back wrapped with a nice red bow if you want, sir." He left the room. Not leaving Hanzo the chance to comment on his last sentence. Was this the reason why Hanzo had given the briefing himself? To keep everything off record? The head of the Shimada clan was playing a game on a level McCree wasn't understanding whatsoever. He followed Zaryanova to the armoury.

He had gotten a badge, fake glasses, even a brand new set of shoes. The disguise was the whole deal and damn he looked ridiculous. His hair was pulled back into a ponytail and slicked out with some gel. Zaryanova had mocked him, saying he looked like a schoolboy with a beard that had barely grown up. Well, she was damn right. He had also stated that he would ditch everything what he was wearing as quickly as he could when the mission was over. It didn't seem to matter if he returned anything but the tech either. The flight had taken the exact time that Hanzo had told him it would. Shimada clan were rich bastards like that, expensive tech, expensive private jets. At least what had toned down his irritation was the small discreet car that had waited for pick up. It was revolting enough that most of Utopaea was constructed through slavery and underpaid workers. Nothing you would write to your mama about. Back in Santa Fe he had grown up in a small ranch with little to worry about until the omnic crisis had driven him and his family out. When his mama died he had become a bounty hunter, a smuggler, now a gun for felt irritated at the sight of poverty. Utopaea couldn't hide it under the layer of paint the architects had created. The car had stopped a few blocks away from the Vishkar Corporation building. He had been thoroughly scanned and all had gone perfectly well. There had been no eye contact with anyone and with relief there had been no omnic amongst his supposed co-workers either. Intel had probably cross checked before sending him into this mission.

Everyone had received a data pad with the planning. He had to play pretend at least for the first hour since he wasn't alone for the first part. There was a younger girl working with him. The music in her ears was just loud. She seemed totally indifferent to everything around her. She must have been working here a couple of years already, she had her own way of doing things. She started from the back of the room, the surfaces first, then behind the desks, then the floor. McCree had never swooped a broom in his life and the whole ordeal looked complicated so he just spent some time dusting off stuff. At least he knew that the blue coloured liquid in the spray was soap and the pink was disinfectant. There was nobody else around in the corridors apart from the logistics team. There didn't seem to be any security guards in the upper levels of the building. "Hey, d'ya mind if I take the next floor already? Well if I'd know how to get there." The girl looked at him and shrugged. She didn't seem to care. "Just take the next floor through the elevator for the personnel," she replied in a thick accent. Her tone was clear on the fact she thought him stupid. McCree waved her thank you, trying to play the part of the shy embarrassed employee.

He took the elevator up, there nobody was in his line of sight. He could proceed at ease. The plan was that he would stash away the 'work trolley' in the staircase well and go to the underground levels. As expected it was dark. One yellow light was illuminating the door that indicated he was on the second floor up. As expected, the outside of the building was rich and imposing, while the behind the scenes was practical and unimpressive. There was however perfect symmetry, the energy nodes faintly illuminated the place with their blue colours and their humming was resonating in the walls. McCree took off the fake glasses. This whole time he had been distracted by the rim. How people could stand seeing through them was still a mystery to him. Down the stairs he went. The light diminished even more. He felt through his veins that he was starting to be underground. The air was thicker, the reverberation of sound louder. It felt stale and imprisoning. The door opened with the corrupted swipe key he had gotten. The door opened in a click. He tuned up his DNA scrambler. It was like a transparent pinkish shield was covering the surface of his skin. He would be invisible as of now. Unless someone obviously showed up. It was not like he was physically invisible. It was already a miracle this DNA scrambler worked for longer than a few minutes. Even Overwatch didn't possess this kind of technology.

He let his memory guide him. He had spent his time on the plane memorizing the ground plans. It felt new to walk around without fear of detection. There was a constant flashing light swiping over the floor. It was probably a constant scanning mechanism. Sentry turrets were activating but they didn't seem to be able to pin point where he was. The hallways were small, the division he was infiltrating was clearly not meant to have many employees running around. One corridor, then the next, this maze had a lot of wall interfaces. But surely they were locked with a biometric system. McCree felt still quite unsafe, he usually preferred to know the tech thoroughly before going on missions. He would soon reach the area when suddenly he heard voices. Fuck, there was supposed to be no-one around here for at least another half hour. His heartrate sped up. He had to think quickly. He looked around and found there was only one way out. McCree shifted his weight to the balls of his feet, knowing his steps would be less noisy and drowned out by the continuous scanner on the floor. The voices were talking in Hindi. No, it was best if he just ran. One corridor to the right, he would reach the door. The voices were coming closer. His hand was on the door knob. The steps were echoing right around the corner. He opened the door, closed right behind him, the lights sprung on. Shit he hadn't expected that. Think quickly, there were tables, he could take cover.

The door opened, McCree was sitting down against the wall, controlling his breathing. He closed his eyes knowing that the omnic would see if anything moved the slightest. They hummed pensively. Their human colleague was making an inquiry. McCree didn't pray often but this time he hoped for bloody fucking Mary's sake that the colleague wouldn't enter the room. The omnic's head turned to the gunslinger. Shit, fuck, don't fucking move. It felt like the omnic was right looking in his direction. McCree regretted not having found a way to bring his peacekeeper. He should have insisted. Forced Zaryanova to comply with his request for bringing a gun. A metallic sigh. McCree toned down his urge to look up, trying to blend into the wall as much as he could. There was another exchange of words in Hindi. Were they concluding there was no one in the room? It seemed so. The omnic turned around to leave. Their metallic steps resonated behind them. With a handclap the lights were out. McCree was left in the dark. He sat there, unmoving, until the sound of steps disappeared.

He exhaled soundly, the light sprung back on. McCree got up, slightly irritated. The faster he was done with this ordeal, the faster he could get out to have a cigarette. He felt way too naked without his guns. At least the item he was supposed to recuperate was in the next room. He glanced at the boxes full of empty vials before moving on. The next room was just the same. Full of boxes on top of tables. Hidden between them however: a suitcase. Rather big. Upon lifting it felt empty. What the hell had Hanzo asked him to recuperate? The snowflake device looked like it would weight more than one an arm's strength. Hopefully it wasn't a setup. He got out. Walking through the hallways the scanning motion on the floor drowning out the noise he made. McCree quickly took the flight of stairs. It had taken too fucking long. He hid the suitcase between the bins of his trolley. When he swiped the key to open the staircase door he had the unpleasant surprise that his presumed colleague was looking at him disapprovingly from the other side of the hallway. He shrugged. She looked at him disdain. "Listen, it's my last day." She groaned irritated at his comment. "You won't have to work with me ever again. I'm a slack off." McCree tried to charm her with a smile. Her face didn't budge. "Well, I'll just get started, then." He took out his swipe key and went into the first office to his left. Thank you Mary he at least only had another hour to go before he was on his plane back to Hanamura.

It was a relief to be out of that building. To get that first cigarette as he walked away. To throw the fake glasses into the trash. The suitcase was perfectly secured under his arm and the car was exactly where it was briefed it would pick him up. He lit another cigarette while being driven to the private landing zone where the jet was waiting for him. He glanced at the suitcase; what on earth had he picked up? Hopefully he would be able to make a scan of the inside before the delivery to the Kumicho. It was somewhere past three O' clock when he set foot in Hanamura village. Half an hour later he was in the shower. He had set up small scanners on the suitcase. The computer was recreating a report of it on one of the screens. McCree got back into his own clothes and body armour. The collection of data was almost done as he lit his cigar. Normally the castle wasn't as busy at this time of night. Maybe he had a shot at getting into Zaryanova's office to bug the place tonight. He gathered up the gear: Three bugs, a grappling hook, a video capturing device and of course lock picks to slide open the window. It was too dangerous to hack her laptop just yet; He strapped down the hacking and activation interface around his arm. He decided to take the suitcase along once the scanning was done. In case he would be questioned why he was at the castle, he would just say he was ready to deliver. McCree ran for a last time the damp towel through his hair. He was good to go.

The winds were gushing through the open arch. A small greeting to the door guards, he announced he was up to meet Zaryanova. They let him pass. There weren't many people outside. The plan of attack was first to deliver the suitcase to the demanded floor in the upper levels of the dojo. Zaryanova had given him codes that would work only once on the doors and the safe he was supposed to deposit everything in. So he just did that. Nobody seemed to budge since he had clearance codes. When he went down he stopped one of the other yakuza who was going up. "Do you know if Miss Zaryanova is in her office?" McCree asked, the guy seemed visibly annoyed he had been interrupted by him. McCree had put his hand on the guy's shoulder to do so. "I don't know, I think she was in a meeting with the Kumicho and with big brother Makishima." The broken English was understandable enough for McCree. Upon still seeing the death stare his supposed little brother was giving him, McCree stopped touching the shoulder he was holding. "They have been meeting for a few hours now." The gunslinger nodded. It meant Zaryanova's office was free to access. Things were aligning perfectly. He thanked the Yakuza in Japanese who seemed unmoved at his attempt to speak the language. At least there hadn't been a snide comment.

McCree made his way down. He would carefully slip behind the armoury to use the grappling hook. Nobody was noticing him. He put down two trackers on the wall right behind a crease in the wood. If anyone were to cross it, he would get a signal on the interface on his forearm. McCree lit up his cigar. There was no light in Zaryanova's office. He leaned against the wall. Settling the fumes in his mouth before exhaling them. Inhale, exhale. His eyes scouted the landscape. You couldn't see the Mount Fuji at this time of night. The nightly urban lights of Hanamura illuminating the landscape were pretty to look at however. It reminded him of Lijang in China, a place he had only been able to visit twice. With his second drag he scratched his cigar out. He would light it later on again so that some witnesses saw him smoking it. Right now he really needed it to gather up the courage. He positioned himself right beneath the window to use the grappling hook. He fastened the cable right at his belt and pushed the button to hurl him up. The traction of the hook was pretty violent if you weren't used to it. "Don't look down, you idiot," he muttered to himself as he took out the lock picks. But his instinct told to just try to push on the window. The window slid sideways easily. Well that was a piece of some good ol' piece of cake. People often forgot to lock their damn windows. He entered the office almost effortlessly. As long as he didn't look down. His eyes had quite adjusted to the darkness already.

Placements, he had thought of them. One under the desk. In a crease of the wood. The microphones were hardly recognisable as such. Especially since they looked like small sticky stones; a second one behind the flower pot next to the door. It would also permit to hear conversations from outside. The third in the crook of the inside of the table where the couches were. He decided to put the video recording device right above one of the paintings Zaryanova had hung next to the door. He hadn't noticed it until now and McCree had been in the bodyguard's office countless of times. The device was so small you had to be right next to it to see it. The only thing that was left to do was activate and synchronise them all. A link was easily made. The blue dots on his interface appeared one by one. Right as the synchronisation started another bleep sounded in the room. Shit someone was right around the corner. He had to get out of there as fast as possible. He paused the synchronisation to make his way around the office without his cable knocking anything over. The beep was becoming more instantaneous; the person around the corner had passed the first tracker. He was suspended in the air closing the window when the second tracker started to beep. He closed his eyes as he hurled himself down. Fuck he would have preferred to have taken this time. His head was spinning as he came in contact with the ground. The hurling down had just been too much like falling down. He detached the hook from the roof. McCree sat down sprawling a leg forward. He had just lit his cigarette when the intruder came around the corner.

They were startled seeing him, just two guards taking a smoke break. They walked up to him. "You got a lighter?" McCree gave them his zippo. It felt hard to look relaxed and laid back. The feeling of dread still loomed over him. His guts still wrenched at the feeling of coming down at that high speed. The cigarette was helping him though. Both guards were having their conversation in Russian. They were usually posted outside of Zaryanova's office. McCree dared to ask: "Is the ma'am back from her meeting?" One of the guards had some kind of smile the gunslinger couldn't identify, sly? Mocking? Arrogant? "She decided that her office didn't need guarding tonight. Probably because she and the Boss tend to do a debriefing after a meeting with the Avtoritet."McCree assumed the Russian meant the lieutenants with that word. "I'd hoped to be able talk to her." The guards exchanged a look, "You are gonna have to come tomorrow. Because she is already upstairs." McCree clenched his jaw. He had to synchronise his bugs as soon as possible. This was a chance he couldn't just not take. If he was quick he probably could still gather intel on the meeting the Kumicho had with his lieutenants. Trying not to rise any suspicion by just standing up and leaving, he finished his cigarette trying to act nonchalant. They greeted him when McCree bid them goodnight.

The guy responsible of the armoury didn't bat an eye when McCree entered. He was busy on his phone looking at what apparently was a football match, cursing. The opportunity was almost too good to be true. The gunslinger put down another tracker right behind the corner initiating the alarm as a vibration. McCree made his way carefully up the stairs. His steps were as silent as possible. If the Kumicho and Zaryanova were indeed in the office it was really in his best interest to not be spotted. Apart from saying he was just a careful man who liked to know who and what he worked for, he had no other excuse to give. He crouched right next to the slightly ajar door. The blue dots on his interface appeared one by one. The point of the synchronising was also to cloak them from any radar that would reveal he had bugged the place. The gunslinger typed in his access code. As he pushed the button to resume, he noticed something strange.

It was quite silent in the office, no voices were heard. Apart from that… rhythmical… thudding sound? He frowned, his heartbeat speeding up. That wasn't a foreign noise. His eyes trailed on the ground on the patterns of wood. One thud was louder than the other. McCree squeezed his eyes shut. Leaning against the wall. There had been a sigh right after that. Another and then another. The door wasn't completely shut. Fuck, why wasn't the door shut? He looked at his interface. The synchronising was only at 6%.Whispers emerging from the office. McCree inhaled and exhaled, feeling his body heat rising. His groin reacted to the sounds. A thud, a moan, another thud, a whimper. Maybe he was just imagining things, like when he had shared student rooms with a buddy of his. His friend had just been trying to break nuts over a table and not been fucking his girlfriend in the next room. Zaryanova's desk was rocking on the floor. The Kumicho and his bodyguard were close. That much he had gathered. He wasn't blind. But it hadn't meant they were fucking. Maybe he should just take a look. McCree sat down on his knees, his hands against the wall. He froze. His heart skipping a beat, his breath stuck in his throat. Hanzo splayed over Zaryanova's desk. His kimono dishevelled. His hair was hanging loose over the side. His tattooed arm grabbed the rim of the desk,the other grabbed the corner above his shoulder. His eyes closed, his lips were slightly parted. The rising and falling of his chest was mesmerising. Hanzo's legs were spread out; Zaryanova's hand on one of them gave her better access. The Kumicho displayed an expression of bliss and a restfulness McCree would never have guessed it ever could have shown. Her face was frowned concentration as her hip motions moved their bodies together. The uncapped bottle of lubricant next to the lit desk lamp threatened to fall over. Sweat beading over her face, she grunted. Rocking back and forth inside of her lover. Hanzo exhaled soundly, Zaryanova's dog tags scarping over his torso as she reached down for a kiss. She moaned. Digging her nails into the Kumicho's leg as she pounded into him. McCree's own lips parted unconsciously as well as he swallowed down. His erection started to painfully constrict against his trousers.

Hanzo's tattooed arm reached for the back of her head, to bury his fingers in her hair. McCree felt himself just getting harder at the obscene display of tongues as the two shared a wet kiss. She whispered in his ear, McCree couldn't hear what. The flush on her cheeks. Her half closed eyes. Her nipples were probably hard in arousal under the dark blue sports bra she was wearing. McCree moved his hands as if he were cupping her breasts. Her hip movement grew faster, stronger. Her hand disappeared between them, her motions jacking off Hanzo's cock. The Kumicho groaned into her lips. McCree was lost in the idea, not knowing who he would rather be in this fantasy. Naturally he toyed with the idea to just make himself known. To join. Like in porn movies. Fuck it was wrong, so fucking wrong. McCree's hand tried to readjust his hard on, knowing it wouldn't help. The only thing that would help was if he beat off, right there, right now. Hanzo's body was strained, the Kumicho exhaled again deeply at the back of his throat, Zaryanova still whispered things in his ear. Her hand worked away between them. McCree felt himself slightly mimicking the thrusts he was seeing. He was so fucking damn aroused.

The interface on his arm vibrated. Shit, he tore away his gaze from the scenery in front of him. 'Synchronisation completed' was displayed in green letters. Like in shock, he stared at the interface as if it hadn't been there before. The crash to reality was almost leaving him breathless. He shouldn't have watched, that hadn't been his purpose here. He shook his head, trying to drown out the noises coming from the office. He had to leave to get the bugs linked to his computer. He staggered himself up. His knees feeling numb by the voyeuristic position he had been in. Play time was fucking over. He was going leaving, right now. And he would take the hell of a cold shower once home.

To be continued