Ch. 3
One Month Prior: The Day Mercy Rejoined Overwatch
Angela Ziegler
Angela had made a mistake ignoring the alarms. She believed they had been false – it had happened many times before. For the most part, the scientists and doctors who worked in the labs didn't actually worry about a real attack. They had security, but it wasn't tight. They weren't a blip on the map – at least until Mercy had joined them. She didn't even know the size of the target on her back. She would have never expected anything bad to happen in that oasis... until the gunfire started.
Angela sat on the ground, her knees pulled to her chest. Her back pressed against the cold metal cabinet. Sticky sweat coated her pale skin as she gasped for air. Dodging gunshots was something she hadn't done in a very long time, and it was an exhausting task. She peeked around the edge of her cover, looking for a gun. There had to be something on one of the dead guards.
She saw an unfortunate man's body lying by the entrance to the lab donned in security armor. She recognized the guard as Amir Nabavi. He was a sweet man that Angela had had a few conversations with. He'd gone down quickly when the attack began. A surprise shotgun blast to the back of the head didn't give him a single chance. Angela felt intense pity. He wasn't the only casualty. Everyone in the room had been mowed down without mercy. She could see some of the scientist lying in pools of their own blood.
"Take out the rest of the compound," the assailant was ordering to someone in a deep sinister voice.
He seemed distracted, so Angela took the opportunity to dodge from her hiding spot to an adjacent one, moving closer to the gun. She wondered if anyone else in the room was alive. She had gotten down as soon as the gun fire started. She'd heard screams of agony and watched her friends fall while she cowered, unable to save them.
It was Talon, she just knew it. However, Angela couldn't quite figure out why they were there. In her experience, she wasn't sure if they need a reason.
Angela traced the length of the counter before dashing across to the next one. She prayed that any survivors just stayed put. This was her risk - her struggle. She neared the edge of the row. She was so close to the gun; she just wasn't sure what she'd do once she got to it. Violence wasn't her forte. She'd learned to protect herself, but had never put it into practice. Her teammates had always made sure she was safe.
"I know you're in here, little angel," the same deep, ominous voice hissed.
Angela paused in her rush, dropping down behind her cover. She took a breath, trying to contain her gasping so that the intruder wouldn't hear her.
She hadn't got a good look at him when the assault first started. He was just a… looming power of black and darkness, and he was leading a small compliment of troops. He'd sent them from the lab, to cause chaos elsewhere. She wasn't sure why he wanted to be left alone in the room, but from all she'd seen it was apparent that he was a force to be reckoned with. She was going to have to try.
"You were a hard one to track down without the Overwatch roster. You don't quite make as much noise as some of your other… former companions. You haven't been moving, though: war torn country with plenty of injured people in need of healing, as well as an accomplished research facility. Where else would Dr. Angela Ziegler flock to?" There was a deep laugh followed by a jarring explosion from his shotgun. Angela flinched, covering her ears and suppressing a startled scream. She heard glass shattering and raining down onto the metal floor.
Loud footsteps echoed across the room, thumping as he made his way around the tables, looking for Angela. Another gunshot rang out, shredding a counter across the room.
What did he want from her?
"Come out," he teased in a threatening tone.
Another gun blast shattered something across the room. A loud frightened scream responded. The assailant grunted, and sounds of thumping boots followed. Mercy risked a peek over the top of her cover. She saw the man storm towards the sound of the scream. He jerked down and ripped a small girl from where she was hiding. Angela recognized her as Amelia Lonette, a young English woman who had come to study medicine and technology. Amelia had been so excited to meet the famous Mercy when she'd first arrived. She screamed as the assailant effortlessly dragged her from her spot. He moved towards the center of the room.
"Shut up!" he hissed. He pressed his shotgun to the girl's chin as she continued to scream and kick in defiance. "Shut up or I'll pull the trigger!" Amelia stopped her struggle. Her body tensed as she sobbed, trying to get her face away from the barrel of the gun.
The aggressor was definitely a mass of black. He wore a flowing black cloak over black armor broken only by his white mask that was an appropriate hybrid of an owl's face and a skull. He was towering and muscular. Every ounce of him was menacing. Poor Amelia looked terrified. A silver talon twitched against the trigger of his large shotgun. A deep chuckle rumbled from his throat.
"So this is how it's going to go," he growled. "I'm going to count to three – no – five. I'm feeling generous today. If you haven't come out of hiding by the time I reach five then I'm going to pull the trigger and blow this pretty little girl's brains out."
"Mercy!" Amelia cried out. He chuckled.
"Riiiight," he drew out the word. "Mercy. Let's see if you live up to the name." And so the countdown began. "One." Angela wondered if she had time to make it to the gun. If she was to just dash to it then she could arm herself before he finished counting. "Two." But what if he saw what she was doing and shot Amelia? "Three." There was always the possibility that Angela revealed herself and he just shot Amelia anyway. Then he'd kill Mercy too. "Four." No, it was worth the risk. There was no way she would abandon Amelia now. She had already let too many die. Talon was here for her, so they would get what they wanted. It was better than all the others dying. "Five."
"I'm here!" Angela said, jumping up. She raised her hands in the air in surrender. "You can have me just let her go." The man chuckled.
"Hey there, Dr. Ziegler." He tossed the girl onto the ground and lowered his shotgun. "Nice of you to join the party."
"Get out of here, Amelia!"
The girl scrambled to her feat, obeying Mercy, and dashed past her attacker heading towards the door. The man stared after her for a moment, watching her try to get away. Slowly, he raised his shotgun, aiming it at the girl, and pulled the trigger. Amelia hit the ground with a grunt.
"No!" Angela screamed out, dashing towards her. His shotgun pointed at her.
"Uh uh," he said. She froze, staring at his mask in anger.
"Why?!" she demanded. He shrugged.
"Finger slipped."
Angela could feel tears welling in her eyes. This was her fault. She brought these people here. She just wasn't sure why.
"What do you want from me?!" The man took a few steps closer to her.
"Revenge," he growled like a feral animal.
"I've never harmed anyone!" The assaulter ran his free claw over the edge of his mask.
"You have no idea how wrong you are, Mercy." He tensed his gun. "You have absolutely no idea how much harm the technology you've created for… good has actually harmed." That was something that had never crossed her mind.
"If that's ever happened that wasn't my intention," she defended.
"Maybe, maybe not. I've been looking for you, though, doc. Now, I'm about to get what I want." He took a few steps forward, shotgun pointed at her face.
"I don't even know who you are," she stuttered. The assailant chuckled.
"I… am the Reaper." The way he hissed the name caused a chill to go up her spine. She just wanted to understand why before she died.
"But who are you under that mask?" There was a moment of silence between them.
"Someone who is going to kill you," she could almost hear an evil smile in his voice. Then he pulled the trigger.
Angela wasn't accepting her death. She felt it coming, like a sixth sense. She dropped down behind the table, and the buckshot either hit the wall behind her or embedded into the desk. She pushed up, shoving off her knees. She pushed herself forward, moving with momentum towards the dead guard. She heard another gunshot bang off. Angela dropped to the ground desperately grabbing for the gun that was at his belt. She spun, aiming the gun with every intention to kill this man. When she pulled the trigger the bullet hit no man. Instead, it hit the distant wall. Reaper was gone.
"What?" she asked aloud. "Where did he… go?"
Slowly, as the words left her mouth, she felt a cold sensation against her neck. It was painful and freezing, like the embrace of death itself… or himself. Her breath hitched in her throat. Black smoke wrapped around her, chilling her body to the core. Tendrils of inky blackness rose before her, stacking up in front of her. It formed the shape of a human. The tightness on her neck tightened becoming something solid. She could feel five cold knives poking into her delicate skin as the hand became tangible. The man who called himself Reaper materialized before her like some sort of apparition come to earth. She gasped both in shock and in pain. He lifted her from the ground by her neck, choking the breath out of her.
"The Angel of Death and the Angel of Life… how poetic," he spit the word. He squeezed her neck tighter causing his claws to dig into her skin. She could feel blood trickling from the wounds. "You might try to stop it, little girl, but death comes to all." He paused, a rumbling chuckle booming from his chest. "Even you."
Mercy grabbed his wrist, gasping for breath. She tried to kick him, but the blows did nothing and after a few moments she was too exhausted to continue. All oxygen had escaped her and her vision was starting to fade into darkness. She was going to die.
A sudden flash of silver broke the monotony of black and white. It was a gleaming ray of beauty among the mute darkness that was taking over her oxygen starved brain. She hit the ground, and gasped. Sweet air filled her lungs, refreshing her weakened body. She blinked her eyes, clearing away the black spots. She breathed in big gasps of air, trying to focus her brain on the scene before her.
Between her and Reaper stood her knight in shining armor – or ninja in shining cyborg body. He was in his fighting stance, his left hand on his wakizashi and his right holding his shurikens. He stood close to Angela, ready to leap at a moment's notice.
"Genji," she gasped.
He didn't break his focus on the enemy, but he replied, "Greetings, Angela. I thought you might like some assistance." Angela's heart ached. She hadn't seen Genji in so long. He was a lovely sight.
"The cyborg," Reaper growled. He plucked a shuriken from his shoulder, tossing the throwing star on the ground. It was coated in a strange toned blood. "Two for the price of one – it's my lucky day." Reaper was unarmed. His shotguns were lying on the ground nearby, yet he was still confident in his position. After seeing what he can become Angela could imagine why.
"It's an honor to finally make your acquaintance, Reaper. I've heard a lot about you," Genji bantered.
"From the monkey?" he growled. "Hmph."
"You failed then and you'll fail today." Reaper reached into his coat, pulling two large shotguns from its void. They were identical to the one's he had earlier. Angela wasn't at all sure where they had come from, deciding that there was no way that they fit in his cloak naturally.
"We'll see," he growled, pulling the trigger.
Genji flipped in the air, leaping over the buckshot. Angela flinched, hoping it didn't hit her. The gun had been pointed up, however, and missed her. She scooted back, moving away from the ensuing fight. Genji tossed down a triad of shurikens at his opponent, but Reaper moved to the right, floating like a ghost. He shot up into the air, trying to hit the ninja with blasts from his dual shotguns. None of them hit. Genji landed deftly on his feet. He pulled his wkizashi from its sheath and deflected a few of Reaper's shots back at him. Reaper burst into smoke, allowing the bullets to fly through his body. When he rematerialized Angela could see dark blood leaking from his stomach where a few of the pellets had hit before his evasion. He growled, tossing his empty shotguns on the floor. He pulled two more from his coat. Angela was confused. She wasn't sure where they were coming from. Genji pulled his katana from his back. He dashed at Reaper, brandishing his sword. He swung, cutting Reaper across the chest and causing him to roar out in pain. He dashed past him, spinning around and cutting him across the back. Reaper spun, firing his left shotgun right into Genji's stomach. Genji seemed to just shrug off the damage, but Angela was instantly anxious. This was going to end badly. Genji brought his sword back down. Reaper threw up his arm, catching the sword in the flesh of his forearm. He grabbed the blade with his free hand. A kick to Genji's legs unsteadied him and Reaper managed to disarm him from his katana. He tossed it across the room. Genji immediately recovered, springing up into the air and throwing out a line of shurikens. Two of them hit Reaper, one in the arm, one in the chest, though it didn't seem to faze him. As Genji moved in an arch through the air one final time, Reaper managed to line up a good close range shot. Genji had been going in for a slash with his wakizashi, but the blast caught him off guard. He was fast, but not always fast enough. The shotgun blast hit him in the torso at a point blank range, and the force caused him to go flying back into a pillar. He hit it with a hard grunt and fell to the floor.
Angela was horrified. She wasn't exactly sure what to do, but she had to do something. Reaper focused in on Genji who was sprawled out on the floor. He was gasping, trying to push himself up. He just ended up crouched on the floor, holding up his damaged torso but unable to fully rise. Reaper recovered Genji's dragonsword from across the room. He was moving in on Genji, and not paying attention to Mercy across the room. Angela didn't want to make too much noise at risk of pulling the mercenaries fire onto her. She scooted across the floor, moving with a steady but cautious pace. Reaper kicked Genji in the stomach causing him to grunt. He pushed the ninja's body over so that he was lying on his back on the ground. Reaper loomed over him like the shadow of an approaching death.
"I'm going to kill you with your own sword," he hummed like it gave him pleasure. "Is this what your brother did to you – impalement?"
"Don't speak of my brother!" Genji defied. He tried to rise once more, but a kick to the helmet put him back flat on his back. Reaper laughed maliciously.
"Why? He doesn't care about you. He tried to kill you." He brought the sword up, holding the hilt in both hands with the point aimed down at Genji. "You are meaningless."
He was just about to fulfill his execution when Angela reached her goal. She grabbed the gun she had dropped earlier. She raised it, pointing it at the midnight back of their assailant. She took a breath and pulled the trigger. She unloaded the clip into Reaper, causing him to howl out in pain. He jerked around, facing Mercy. A growl cut through the air. He was about to turn and go after her, seething in rage, but Genji used the moment to his advantage. He rose, using Reaper's distraction to rip the katana from his hands. His deft fingers, tearing the hilt from Reaper's iron clad grip like it was nothing. He leveled the sword on his left arm, getting a good angle; it was a quick movement like he'd done it a million times before. He thrust the sword forward, impaling Reaper in the same way he'd intended to impale Genji. Angela could hear the shock in his gasp. He doubled over, grabbing the wound in clear agony. Genji retracted the blade, leaving a large, bleeding hole in the mercenary's stomach and back. He coughed and wheezed as he inhaled. Black blood was leaking from where the sword had been. He stumbled back. He glanced at both Genji and Angela before growling, "Your day will come." Reaper moved backwards away from Genji and towards the exit. Slowly his body began to dissipate, turning into inky black smoke. The smoke moved through the exit, whipping like a plague of locusts in ominous harmony. Reaper was gone, escaping from the room with Mercy and Genji too hurt to try and stop him.
As soon as he was gone Angela hopped off the ground and rushed over to Genji. He was leaning back against the pillar, his arm draped over his stomach. She dropped down next to him.
"Genji," she said worriedly.
"Good to see you Angela." He shifted, making a grunting noise as he did so.
"Genji, you're hurt," she said. He groaned.
"So are you." Genji motioned to her arm. She looked down and noticed that blood was trickling down from her shoulder. She must have been grazed by some buckshot and hadn't noticed in the rush of the fight. It stung: a feeling that came with the realization of the wound. However, she wasn't worried about herself.
Angela ignored him. Instead, she removed his visor. His brown eyes met hers. His eyebrows were knitted in a semblance of pain. She pressed the release for his face plate, removing it from over his nose and mouth. He smiled an aching smile at her.
"Deep breaths," she told him. It wouldn't help. Genji didn't breathe on his own. His lungs had been too badly damaged after his fight with Hanzo. A mechanical device did it for him – just as it did for most of his bodily functions. She just thought the motion might relax him. "You're going to be fine." She touched his face gently.
"I don't think I was hit anywhere vital," he said.
"You can't know that. Your metal body should protect your human organs and mechanical components, but you could still be bleeding. I can't tell." She checked the shotgun wounds, looking at the deep craters it had left in his metallic body. Genji took her hand.
"I'll be fine," he assured her, confidently. Mercy looked down at the gesture.
"It's been too long, Genji," she whispered.
"Much too long, Angela," he replied. His brown eyes shined. She pulled her gaze away, refocusing on his wounds.
"I need my staff."
"Where is it?"
"In my quarters. I must go get it, but I don't want to leave you."
"I'll be fine."
"No you won't. If he comes back… I won't leave you." Genji chuckled. "Did anyone else come with you?"
"Jesse and a few foot soldiers. They went to secure the rest of the compound while I searched for you. I was hoping I'd get to you before Reaper did – I was too slow."
"If you were too slow I would be dead. You saved me, Genji." He laughed.
"And then you saved me. It seems a never ending cycle." Angela sighed, she squeezed his cold metal hand – his fingers twitched against hers in response.
"Can Jesse get to my room?"
"I'll radio him and see."
Jesse McCree
The damn building was way too quiet for McCree's preferences. It probably wasn't so solemn when people were alive, but after the attack it was eerie. He stepped over blood stained bodies, trying his best to be respectful to the poor souls who hadn't gotten out in time. If they'd only been faster.
Jesse and his men had managed to secure a large amount of the scientists and staff. They'd fought off the vast majority of the Talon agents, and started to evacuate the survivors. When they'd gotten to the exit, however, they'd found that the door was sealed tight. Try as they might, the doors refused to open. One of the employees said that it had been set into emergence lockdown mode, and that the manual override was in a control room on the other end of the complex. McCree vowed to get the doors opened, and ordered his men to protect the survivors in his absence.
McCree paced up some stairs and turned a corner. This place was confusing, but the dude who had given him directions had been really detailed. McCree had only gotten lost once, but he was pretty sure he was back on track now.
He wondered if Genji had found Mercy. He hoped that this was just a random Talon attack, and that the heavy hitters hadn't come along. So far he hadn't seen hide nor tail of any of the big Talon names, but that didn't mean anything. He knew it couldn't be a coincidence that they just so happened to target the exact research compound that former Overwatch head doctor, Angela Ziegler, had been stationed at. They were after her – he just wasn't able to figure out why.
As McCree rounded another corner he knew he was in the right spot. Two Talon guards were standing on either side of a metal door. They held assault rifles and wore black masks. That had to be his control room. Even with all the commotion they hadn't abandoned their posts. Something important was certainly inside.
He moved towards the door, his right hand holding the hilt of his Peacekeeper. As he paced forward it drew the attention of the Talon guards.
"Hey!" he called out.
"Don't move!" one shouted as they rose their gun at him.
"Yeah, yeah. I know the drill."
"Hands in the air!"
"Hey, I was just lookin' for the bathroom."
"I said in the air!" McCree rolled his eyes.
"Yeeeeahhh, I'm not gonna do that." He drew his gun, rapidly pulling back the hammer with his left hand. The bullets hit their mark, knocking the Talon thugs backwards. They dropped dead to the ground, blood pooling from the holes in their heads. "Ya just had to let me use the bathroom." McCree popped open the chamber and reloaded the two bullets he had fired. They never had a chance.
McCree cracked open the door. It was a dark room lit only by a line of glowing screens that boasted security cameras. No further guards waited inside. Nice and easy. He moved towards the monitors. He hoped he could figure out how to override that damn door. As he neared the computer he noticed the big swivel chair that set up against the desk move. He could see glowing purple boots folded over each other as the intruder watched the screen. A pit of dread welled in his stomach. He squeezed the handle of his gun. The chair spun around.
"Hola," the woman hummed as her purple eyes found his. She grinned. "¿Cómo estás, señor McCree."
"Ah, hell," was his reply. She crossed her arms, leaning back in the big chair. Her smile widened.
"What's wrong? Not happy to see me?" she asked with a cocky tone laced with her accent.
"Sombra," McCree grumbled. "I thought I'd seen the last of you." Sombra spun around in her chair, swinging her legs like a child and making a noise. She stopped herself jarringly sudden.
"You can't get rid of me that easily." She added in Spanish, "Why don't you put down that gun and we'll talk?"
"I think I'll keep it," he replied in her language. She hopped out of her chair, standing uncomfortably close to him. She looked up at him with a teasing smile. She raised her hand, moving it between their faces. She drug a nail down McCree's lips. He flinched, taking a step away from her. "And I'm a bit too busy to talk at the moment."
"Where's the southern hospitality I hear so much about?"
"I don't waste it on terrorists." She chuckled.
"That's not how it seemed when we…" McCree cut her off saying, "No. That was before I knew you were Talon." She laughed, flopping back in the chair and spinning it one more rotation.
"Haven't you ever been tempted, McCree?"
"No."
"I know you have a bad side. I've seen it. Talon could give you so much more than Overwatch."
"I've done the bad guy thing before – didn't really like what it made me." He pushed past her, shoving the chair as he leaned over the console. He studied it, looking for the override button. Sombra spun around, watching him closely.
"Whatcha lookin' for?" she teased.
"None of your concern."
"Aw c'mon, McCree, this isn't the same light hearted guy I met back in Mexico. Why are you acting so grumpy?"
"Because I have to deal with you."
"You definitely don't like me anymore."
"I never did like you!" She grabbed his wrist.
"Now, we both know that's a lie." He ripped his arm for her grasp. Sombra leaned back in her chair, observing Jesse silently for a few minutes. "I could probably help, ya know."
"You're a lot of help," he said sarcastically. She leaned forward, looking over the console that McCree had been studying. She then leaned over and whispered into McCree's ear, "Looking for the door override?" He moved away from her, looking with a glare.
"No." She leaned back in her chair and kicked her feet up onto the control panel.
"You're a good liar, McCree… I'm just calling your bluff. I'll give you a hint… it's big and red." He grimaced. "And also if you hit the wrong one it'll put the whole building on a serious lockdown; including this room so we'll be stuck in here together." McCree growled. He moved to hit a red button on the far right but Sombra made a, "uh uh uh," noise, halting him. He went to press a different button. Sombra stood up and grabbed his hand. "Nope," she said. He tried to press the next one, but she moved herself in front of it. She angled herself between him and the console. "Wrong again." McCree sighed.
"You know what why don't you just do it?" he suggested.
"That would be too simple."
"I insist." She laughed, moving her hand over deftly and pressing correct red button without even looking what she was hitting. McCree watched her suspiciously before looking over at the monitor and seeing the doors open. The scientists rushed out.
"Thanks," he said. She grinned. "De nada." She crossed her arms, smiling. "Why help me?" he asked. She shrugged.
"Payback, I suppose." She watched as he tensed his grip on his gun. "You regretting it?" He sighed.
"No." He went to move away, returning his Peacekeeper to its holster. He tried to ignore his gut instincts as he retreated from the control room.
"Oh, McCree!" Sombra called after him. When he turned back to her she was sitting back in the chair with one leg draped over the other. She had this insufferably confident look on her face. "I've found out some stuff about you since our last meeting." He narrowed his eyes.
"Oh?" She grinned.
"Yeah."
"Care to… indulge me?" She spun in the chair once more. The look of her bright purple form spinning was making Jesse a bit dizzy.
"Let's see… taken in by Overwatch at seventeen. You were part of a gang… the Deadlocks. Hey, I worked with a gang too."
"Funny how we've ended up in the exact opposite places."
"That's one way of putting it," she said lightheartedly. "I wasn't done though, thanks for interrupting me." He waved his hand. "Blackwatch Commander Gabriel Reyes found potential in you – a skilled shot, so he gave you a chance to prove yourself."
"This is news?" She smiled.
"How about this then? The first mission you were on was a complete failure. It was espionage – a little extended scouting before Blackwatch took out a clan of esteemed assassins." Jesse's blood went cold. He knew where this story was heading. "You, Reyes, and a few others were the only ones charge with this important task. It was a precursor to a full on assault on one of Japan's most notorious crime syndicates. Except you messed the whole thing up." She laughed. "You just had to bang the crime boss's son, didn't you McCree?" McCree squeezed his weapon. "You blew your cover and the whole mission had to be abandoned." She laughed once more. "It's a good thing that little ninja came along and salvaged your mess years later or the Shimada clan would still be in power. What was his name… the Shimada kid that you hooked up with? Genji? No, that was his brother." She tapped her mouth, thoughtful. "Hanzo. That was it. I've been meaning to look into him too, but I wanted to run it all by you first." McCree shook his head.
"Leave him out of this, Sombra."
"What? You don't want to see him again?" McCree clenched his teeth.
"No. It's been fifteen years. Just leave him alone."
"Can't promise anything." She spun in her chair once more, but this time McCree slammed his foot onto the seat, stopping it mid spin. He pointed his gun at her.
"I mean it, Sombra. If you so much as think about Hanzo, our next meeting won't end as well." Sombra raised her hands in defeat, but that cocky smile didn't leave her lips.
"Touchy subject then?" He removed his foot, but kept his gun level with her face. "I was a bit surprised to be honest. Never took you for someone who likes other men. I mean, I know you like women but…"
"Enough." He took a step back. "How do you even know about all this?"
"Blackwatch Commander Gabriel Reyes had extensive files and I… came across a few. He was the only one who knew about that little fling of yours. He didn't even tell Strike-Commander Morrison, you know?" Jesse didn't actually know that, but he didn't let it on. He felt a twang of guilt. Poor Reyes, he was a good man. "They're still classified, but I have my ways, you know."
"I know."
"I just think it's funny that apparently you were attracting the bad guys even back then. What is it that lures you to us? Our untouchable charm?"
"Hanzo was never a bad guy," Jesse murmured, looking off to the side. "Just a misguided kid – like I was."
"Ouch. Why don't I get that sort of emotion?" He glared at her.
"Because it meant nothing to me, Sombra. It didn't mean anythin' to you either; you just want to hold it over my head."
"Keep telling yourself that and one day you might convince someone." She was so nonchalant for someone being threatened with a gun.
McCree heard a flicker of static and Sombra seemed to focus in on something buzzing in her ear. Once the noise died she smiled. "Well, this has been fun," she said, "but I have to be going now." She did a little wave. "Don't forget me, McCree."
"Sombra," he started to say but she just winked at him.
"Adios!" she announced before vanishing totally, leaving her chair swaying slightly in her absence.
"Damn it," McCree sighed and holstered his gun.
He turned from the control room, satisfied that his task was complete but conflicted about the whole confrontation. Knots were tangled up in the pit of his stomach. Not every day was a man forced to face two mistakes of his past.
As McCree stepped into the big research room he was greeted to gun fire. It was a surprise burst that came from behind a distant counter. He jumped, pulling his gun in response. The shots missed though, hitting the wall to his right.
"Oh goodness!" a feminine voice gasped. "Jesse, I didn't know it was you." Angela emerged from behind a table.
"Y'all asked me here then ya shoot at me," he complained, holstering his weapon. "Now that is no way to greet an old friend." She moved around her hiding spot and sprinted up to him. Angela threw her arms around his shoulders, leaning up into a hug. Jesse huddled down, embracing the woman with an encompassing embrace. "I missed ya, Angie." Mercy pulled away, looking up into his eyes.
"I missed you too, Jesse."
McCree looked the woman up and down. They'd been friends since the day he'd arrived at Overwatch. They had both been young – still teenagers – and had gotten along well. She looked barely any different since the last time he'd seen her. Though, the fight that had broken out didn't leave her looking in top shape. Her blonde hair was scraggily. Her t-shirt had been ripped and the piece was wrapped around her forearm where it had turned red from blood. Still, she smiled up at Jesse like an old friend meeting under common circumstances.
"You smell like nicotine," Angela said with distaste. "Are you still smoking, Jesse McCree?" He chuckled.
"You haven't seen me in six years, Angie, and that's the first thing you gotta say to me?"
"I thought you'd quit."
"I started up again. The stress of having people that you love die violently can force ya back to old habits." He could see that she was about to apologize, but he stopped her by saying, "I know it's bad for me. I know, but it's not more deadly than dodgin' bullets. I think I'll be fine – especially with your medical expertise." She scowled at him.
"You want an iron lung like Genji?" He raised his eyebrow.
"Not particularly."
"Then I'd suggest restraint in your addictions."
"Speakin' of Genji where is the lil' guy?"
"I'm over here!" a voice called from behind the counter Angela had been hiding behind. "Slowly dying while you two catch up!" McCree laughed.
He handed Mercy her staff and the two walked over to the ninja. He was lying on the ground with his hand clutching his gunshot wound. His eyebrows were knitted in discomfort. "
Woah," McCree said. "You look rough. What happened?" Mercy knelt down beside Genji. She pointed her Caduceus staff at the injured man and activated her healing stream. He made a face and grunted, looking up at McCree while Angela did her thing.
"It was Reaper. He was targeting Angela," Genji informed. "I got here just in time."
"Damn. I was hoping this was random."
"Me too, but we both knew better." Jesse nodded.
"He got ya good."
"He left with a few injuries of his own," Angela stated.
"Oh?"
"Sword right through the abdomen," Genji assured. "Though I doubt he's dead."
"Reaper's a tough son of a bitch."
"You've fought him before?" Angela asked. McCree shook his head. "No, but Winston has. Beat him half near to death and the dude just vanishes. Then he turns up well and fine somewhere else later. He's some sort of freak of nature – absorbing damage like it's a bug bite."
"Medically it sounds like he has some enhancements." Angela paused, a disturbed look coming over her face. "But I saw him turn to… smoke…" She shuddered, remembering its cold touch. "That I cannot explain."
"Was there anyone else here?" Genji asked. McCree blinked, looking away momentarily. Internally he was conflicted. He wasn't sure how much to share. He didn't want to lie to his allies, but talking about Sombra was far too complicated.
"Just Talon thugs – nothing more." He decided the lie was easier, though it did cause a pang of guilt.
"They must not have cared about anyone but Angela," Genji said. "Reaper was focused on her and he didn't care what happened to the rest of the scientists."
"Did anyone else get out?" Angela asked with hope in her eyes. McCree nodded.
"We were able to save a good deal of the staff. They got out and the Overwatch troops are protecting them. As far as I know all remainin' Talon ran off with their tail between their legs – the rest are dead."
"That's good." Angela looked to the doorway, staring at the body of a girl lying in a pool of her own blood. "I wish I could have helped more of them," she whispered.
Angela lowered her staff, finished with the healing process. Genji stood up, repaired. He touched her arm.
"You did all you could here," he assured. The two exchanged a long almost intimate glance. "But you know you can do more good with Overwatch." Angela sighed.
"Genji," she started but he shook his head.
"We can protect you and you can help innocents in the process."
"It's not like it was, Angie," Jesse added. "No Morrison/Reyes fightin'. No politics. We're just tryin' to help." She sighed.
"Well, I can't stay here," she said. "I can't put more innocents in danger." McCree knew she blamed herself. She had a guilt complex, but this wasn't her fault. She didn't ask Talon to come after her. He wanted to tell her that. "I will come with you… and decide if I will stay from there." Genji grinned though it was obvious he tried to hide it.
He had an expressive face, but it was clear that he was used to his mask disguising it. He was so infatuated with Angela and it was apparent when his brown eyes were visible. They sparkled every time she looked his way. McCree saw it, but he was unsure if either Angela or Genji noticed.
"Welp," McCree said, pushing his cowboy hat up a ways, "in that case… let's hit the road."
A/N: I had some formatting issues with this chapter. I tried to put the squiggly over the n in the word senior (not even trying the squiggly) and Microsoft Word had a seizure. i'm not sure what I did, but a big chunk of McCree's section got all bunched together when I moved it over onto here. It looks fine in my word document, but when copied here it acted like I never hit the enter key: resulting in a great wall of fan fiction. I had to fix it manually, but there's a chance I missed a few spaces, so please excuse any formatting problems you may find - blame Word.
As always reviews are appreciated and requests are considered!
