McCree made sure he slept well last night. His joints were still aching slightly from the 30 lap run he managed before bed. But here it was, his time to shine with the real Overwatch! Needless to say he was excited; if things went well for him it could mean great things for him within the organisation. What he didn't let show was a slight tinge of nervousness for Lena, or Tracer, as she liked to be called. It was her first mission after all, but whereas anyone else would be trying to psyche themselves up, all McCree could see in her eyes was pure determination. In his head all he could see was Lena blinking way too far ahead, getting separated from the protection of Reinhardt, Torbjorn and Doc, and getting surrounded without a hope of escape.

He shook his head. He needed to start thinking more positively, which ironically was the first piece of advice Lena herself gave to him. McCree was travelling in a separate ship to Manchester, before getting the train down to London. 'I never did like trains,' he thought to himself 'I can just tell something bad is gonna happen on one somewhere, someday.' He approached the Strike team, and received friendly smiles from everyone but Torbjorn, who scowled at him. "Good luck today fella's, hopefully you won't be needing my assistance". Reinhardt agreed with him, while Lena said with a steely resolve "Cheers love, but I want to take care of this one myself." McCree quickly replied with "Whoa there! If you go out on your own, you'll be massacred in seconds. Don't take offense to that, but you aren't exactly experienced or able to take more bullets than big guy's shield, are you?" Lena let out a grump, but thought about it for less than a second before realising he was right. "Yeah, I guess" was the downtrodden reply.

McCree let out a laugh. That was exactly what Fareeha had said when he told her that he couldn't watch her Tae Kwon Doe exam from London. "It's time," said Morrison over the comms, "good luck everyone." McCree climbed into the one man, remotely flown ship. He had faith in Winston to get him there safely and quickly. 'Bit cramped' he thought to himself, but he knew that he'd been in worse situations before. Like when he was captured in a Blackwatch raid.

He had been in his room at the start of the raid, dozing off for an afternoon siesta as the folks south of the border called it. It all happened at once after that. Someone sounded the alarm, but that wasn't what woke McCree. It was the sound of C4 blowing up the building next to his. All of a sudden McCree was glad that he'd been given the most derelict looking shack in town. There were no houses in Deadlock Gorge. Agents surrounded the town, and he could already hear gunfire from his fellow gang members being exchanged with rapid bursts of staccato. 'M16's, old school' he was never without his gear, so when he was headed downstairs he was surprised when he bumped into an agent. Evidently he was as well, by the stunned look on his face. McCree had the quicker reactions, and with a quick right hook the man was rolling back down the stairs unconscious. He always tried to avoid killing when he could, but he had been forced to several times. The memories haunted his nightmares.

Taking a look outside, he saw a squadron of soldiers flanking his buddies. He sprinted to some higher ground, lined up his first shot with a soldiers arm, and the Peacekeeper's familiar Bark sounded once again. He quickly dispatched of the other soldiers with the five rounds left, each with a shot to a limb. Making a quick decision, he decided to carry on round the high ground and flank whoever it was attacking them. As he turned the corner however, he could see that there was another flanking team that had taken out seemingly all of his gang. They'd been pincered. Upon seeing that he was the only one left, he turned and fled. He made his way through the tunnels that no-one other than the gang knew about. He rounded a corner, only to have Mike Tyson land his hardest punch right in his solar plexus. It was a miracle that he was conscious. He'd fallen on his back, the hat flying clean off his head. It was more of a reflex for McCree to reach for it and immediately pull it firmly on, only afterwards did he the tips of two shotguns directly at his head. "Give me one good reason for me not to blast your head off, deadlock scum" the order came from a gravelly voice, one instantly recognisable to those who knew who it was. Unfortunately for McCree, he didn't, so he simply took his hat off his head and said "If yer going ta kill me, please don't bloody my hat" he paused, and looked up to see his killers face "that and I'm the only deadlock left, we're a dyin' breed" one thing McCree would remember for the rest of his life, even though he'd never see it again, was Gabriel Reyes looking surprised.

A jolt woke him. The ship had landed. 'Guess I didn't sleep as well as I first thought' he thought to himself.

Drearily getting out of the ship, he sent a message to Winston saying he was on the ground, and heading to the train station. Luckily it was only a 15 minute walk from the airport, and before he knew it he was on one of those dreaded metal boxes known as trains. He looked about him, a young couple sat across from him, both trying and failing not to stare at his appearance. He smirked to himself, imagining how their jaws would drop if they saw him in his Blackwatch gear. Other than being stared at, the ride was uneventful. He got out at Kings Cross station, about 5 minutes away from the actual area of Kings Row. He seemed to be the only one headed towards the area; in fact, whole crowds of people were heading back towards the station, although that was to be expected. It was, after all, the fourth busiest station in London.

He arrived at the Tube station where the strike team would start their mission. Upon seeing the amount of Null Sector omnics that lay between him and the entrance of the power station that he was supposed to be stationed at, he decided that it would be best if he made his way there stealthily. He climbed up to the roof of the houses using a drainpipe and some handholds in the chipped brickwork. It was simple from here; make his way along the rooftops until he got to the upper floor of the power plant, and then wait for the sound of Reinhardt crushing anything and everything to a pulp to listen for instructions from either Jack or Reyes.