Glue Fish: Chapter 3
It was late-evening and Watchpoint Gibraltar was quiet as agents wandered slowly to their rooms, the majority sore and beaten from the outcome of their missions.
Hanzo Shimada had been spared the duty of a mission for the wekk. Hanzo was loath to admit it, but remaining peaceful and solitary within his room for as many hours deemed possible was always a priceless experience...
"Hanzo!"
*BAM BAM BAM*
Where those supposed to be 'door' knocks?
Hanzo's brown eyes cracked open, sparking blue briefly as the experience was broken...
"Y'ello, you in there?"
It seemed Hanzo had a visitor, and while the experience wasn't unwelcomed, it wasn't utterly wanted in the slightest.
He opened his mouth to speak, but no sound came out as he swallowed his frustration.
"I was hoping to have some nice chitter-chat this evening, friend~!"
It was Reinhardt. No other voice could possibly be so cheerful, yet as deep as a well.
Hanzo said not a word at he stood up and stiffly slid open the metal-door.
Reinhardt's wrinkled face beamed at Hanzo. So cheerful the man was, his smile almost seemed painful and his grey mustache puffed up with every growing chuckle.
He held out his arms as if subconsciously inviting a hug.
"Hanzo, Hanzo, my friend! It's been too long since our last tea-time~!"
Hanzo blinked incredulously. It really hadn't. Reinhardt never failed to have tea with Hanzo at least once a week, and they would've met more often if Reinhardt had his way.
Of course, Hanzo was a gracious host regardless.
With a bow, he grunted, stepping-aside to let Reinhardt in.
The big man easily took up a third of the room, even as he settled down on a pillow on the tatami mat, cross-legged.
Both remained quiet as Reinhardt watched curiously, how Hanzo prepared the tea. It was generally considered rude to speak during the preparation; and both had "tea-time," so many times before that the ceremony left no need for comment.
However, three bowls, Hanzo set out; one too many, so Reinhardt found the need to speak.
"I'm afraid...Junkrat isn't joining us today."
"Oh?" That gave Hanzo pause. Like Reinhardt, Junkrat 'never' missed an opportunity to join "tea-time."
"Might I ask why?"
Reinhardt shrugged, "I checked the logs, says Rat is on a mission."
Hanzo raised a brow. Now that was 'odd.' Junkrat was always careful to schedule his missions 'away' from their chosen day.
"Was it an emergency?" Unlikely, since Junkrat's skill and explosive artillery wasn't just sent out on a mission without extensive planning beforehand. It simply wasn't the nature of it. Several candidates were better suited for "emergencies," then Junkrat could ever hope to be. It wasn't in Rat's nature as well…
"No," Reinhardt shook his head, "Log didn't mark it as one...and, here's the kicker!" He leaned forward, his brows bobbed conspiratorially. "Junkrat was sent on a SNEAK mission!"
Hanzo had been in the middle of portioning out matcha powder into the bowls; barely, he avoided spilling powder as he scoffed in surprise.
"And, and-the sneak mission is in a salt marsh, East Coast, in the Americas!" Reinhardt bellowed, throwing his hands up in the air for emphasize
Hanzo poured the kettle of hot water slowly...still not believing what he was hearing…
"Let me get this straight...Junkrat was sent on a mission requiring...stealth, when Junkrat is the least-stealthy person in all of Overwatch."
Reinhardt nodded slowly, cheeks red as if he was choking on laughter.
"That's... ridiculous."
"BAH-hahaha!" Reinhardt clasped a hand on Hanzo to steady himself. He rocked back and forth like an inebriated giant.
"Ridiculous indeed, my friend! In a swamp-marsh no less!"
Hanzo nodded his agreement. With a flourish from a bamboo whisk, Hanzo made a welcoming froth in the tea.
Several beats of silence passed between them, before the bowls cooled enough to be picked up.
"Did Roadhog join Junkrat?" Hanzo hummed as he savoured his tea.
Reinhardt sniffed, "No, in fact the hog-man is on base, saw him reading a book. Why….? Oh, right! McCree is the one that went with Rat."
Hanzo frowned, in thought. He was old enough to know when things were...off.
"That's not right, not at all…" He paused as he gave careful consideration of his suspicions…
"I suspect Junkrat might be in trouble."
Junkrat rarely, if ever, went on missions without Roadhog. The duo worked best together.
Reinhardt balked. "No? Rat is fine, I'm sure! He can't be killed easily, that's for sure. He's older than us both."
Hanzo put down his tea, shaking his head.
"No, it's not that. I just don't trust McCree."
"What?! No, no Hanzo. Don't 'say' that. McCree is a great man, been with Overwatch since Blackwatch. I trust the man plenty."
Hanzo sighed. He wasn't about to criticize Reinhardt's judge of character, but it was clear he had a bias.
"But wasn't McCree once apart of the infamous Deadlock Gang?"
"He...well, he was. He was, 'once' a criminal."
"That's enough to cast suspicion upon him."
Reinhardt reluctantly nodded.
"I...suppose. But, you've been a criminal yourself. Junkrat moreso…? The uh, 'hypocrisy' is a bit confusing."
"True, but McCree is a trickster."
"Aha, but Junkrat is too! What is your point, my friend?"
Rolling his eyes, Hanzo leaned back to stare at the ceiling. Reinhardt was almost afraid he would get stuck staring like that, so he asked a question.
"Are you proposing we investigate?"
Hanzo nodded, looking dour. "Yes, I think that is best. I have a bad feeling."
"That is good! AND, especially since Junkrat was expected back from his mission SEVERAL days ago!"
Hanzo's eyes were still fixed on the ceiling at Reinhardt's sudden admission. Slowly his eyes cracked to a glare. He almost choked on the rest of his tea.
"YOU buffoon! DAMN it! Why didn't you say 'that' right away?"
Reinhardt chuckled, and shrugged, "To stretch out the conversation, friend. I believe that's the most words I've gotten out of you yet!"
"Arck, just drink your tea and go!"
"Ahh nah, not so fast Hanzo. We've haven't had snacks yet~!"
McCree was getting old, much too old to be haunted by monsters...but there he was, stuck on a swampy hillside…
...just a quick look over his shoulder and he swore he caught a glimpse of pearly white eyes...
Junkrat and him had found dry land, just in time to settle down for the night, but McCree was keen on not sleeping...
His spirits, his nerves, his 'whatever' were all nagging him to death.
'Monsters aren't real,' a small voice whispered, but then his mind would flash back to those "pearly-white eyes," and McCree would get his nerves all worked up again, turning and turning the memory over and over, like churning sweet butter…
It was madness, which is precisely why McCree couldn't quite shake it, his fear and those memories...because either he was going mad...
OR, he just discovered that the world had madness and 'supernatural hoopla' the entire time.
Neither option was appealing. McCree was mortified...shocked...near soiling himself...
His sensibilities had been buck off and crushed underneath an angry bull called reality. In his youth, McCree had only participated once in a full-blown rodeo.
While riding the bull, not only had he been bucked off, his right arm had crumpled like paper underneath those hooves…
Damn...he could get bucked off by horses and get right back on, like any proper cowboy; but, damn-shit-fuck it was a great shame of his that he never did get back on that bull...now he was too old to try again…
"Damn," whispered McCree. Just that small noise sounded like a smack in the quiet marsh.
McCree stared up at a dark sky, long left starless from light pollution.
Junkrat was sleeping besides him, and a lingering stare at that fish-tail helped McCree make up his mind.
Whatever reality was; whatever that one bull had done, he wouldn't cower, or run away…
"Aurgh, fuck!"
Or bleed.
McCree had touched his belly and chest to find he was still tender from the attack. He'd make that kelpie-fuck bleed, whenever he got the chance...he wouldn't be able to find peace otherwise, to fall the fuck-
"You awake, Mackie?"
-to fall asleep…
"I heard you scream."
"Yeah, I'm up…sorry about that." McCree voice was shaky and dry. He hadn't meant to wake up Junkrat. Both of them needed sleep, desperately...the last thing he wanted to think about was what they would have to do in the morning.
"Nah, yeah. No biggie, I wasn't sleeping none," chuckled Junkrat.
A chill ran up McCree's spine. He could have swore that Junkrat had been sleeping...he'd been still as death.
He swiveled his head to look over Rat. That small action made him nauseous, and a bit tense.
Rat was downright terrifying in the dark. His orange eyes smoked like cigar-tips, which glowed just enough to show off his needle-thick teeth.
Rat was still a fish-man, alright. A look at his chest showed a disturbing lack of breathing. Either he was breathing shallow, or the scales that had stacked up from his skin were very, very thick.
"Yah like what you see don't yah?" Junkrat quipped. He chuckled, almost belting out a cackle as McCree crawled backwards, terrified.
"Fuck! Rat, your voice got a whole lot deeper!" McCree looked pale as death.
Junkrat continued to laugh, finding no reason to stop.
"Oh, did it now?" he said, chipper as a bell.
McCree said nothing, barely biting back the remark; 'And you got a whole lot uglier too!'
No doubt Junkrat would've ripped his face off with those freak-teeth for that comment…
McCree would have been happy to not say another word, but as Junkrat tittered out, the rat just began staring, with those buggy, burning eyes.
Fuck, Junkrat was scary.
"So...you said, you're a mermaid? D-don't you mean a merman?" McCree chuckled, hoping to injected humor into the conversation; otherwise, the tingle in his spine said Junkrat just might 'kill' him.
Junkrat didn't look too happy about still being awake…and the question didn't amuse him none.
The rat had gone quiet, real quiet. McCree could only hear his heart, which opted to crawl up into his throat.
Finally, Junkrat spoke.
"No," he said carefully, taking a measured tone. "Merman don't exist, only mermaids."
The statement was unbearably plain when coming from a chatter-happy character like Rat.
McCree couldn't even begin to figure the implications of the answer.
All he was fixed on, was not soiling himself, and to not cut off Junkrat's glare. Those teeth were getting closer and closer…
"Go to sleep, Mackie."
And McCree closed his eyes.
