McCree never was too fond of his father. The man was an alcoholic, a liar, and a cheat. As much as he wanted to push the memories of his father far in the back of his mind, under lock and key, that was impossible given a single item that served as a painful reminder. His Peacekeeper. The revolver once belonged to his dad, passed down to Jesse on his deathbed. This was the gun he learned to shoot with, his father taking him out to the range to practice his aim. This was the gun Jesse took his first life with during his time with the Deadlock Gang, and he broke the wooden handle after his shaky grip caused it to fall to the floor. This was the gun he protected the world with when he later joined Overwatch. But he never once carried the gun to honor his father.
Sometimes Jesse stares at the gun he's carried for so long, reflecting silently on how many lives taken with the weapon. Some killed in cold blood, some killed in self-defense, some killed to protect the lives of others. Now, these thoughts weighed heavy on his conscious. But, despite the blood on his hands, he couldn't part with the gun because in a way, it had molded him into the man he was. He never considered it a bad thing, nor a good thing. The item he'd wanted to rid of so long, serving as such a painful reminder, was the one thing he couldn't live without.
