FOUR : Boss
The fall was like slow motion. Tracer's eyes were wide behind her orange lenses. She blinked over to the side of the cliff, dropping to her knees at the ledge and peering over the end of it. All she saw was rocks and debris all the way down the cliffside until it reached foaming sea spray and crashing waves.
"Jesse!" she called.
"We're not done with ya yet!"
Tracer turned at the sound of the voice behind her and before she could react she was grabbed by the chain hook of the larger of the two men.
The leaner of the two, the one who had spoken, began to giggle. Tracer struggled against the chain. She was hit across the face and fell to the ground. She grabbed her nose smearing the blood which now flowed freely from it and looked up at the man as he stomped towards her.
"Self destruct sequence initiated!" D. Va's voice came through Tracer's ear piece.
Suddenly the large pink mecha came charging in between Tracer and her assailant. The count down sequence began and Tracer blinked out of the way towards the payload. As the mecha exploded it hurtled her body forward and she fell face first at D. Va's feet.
"You OK?" D. Va asked offering her downed teammate a hand.
Tracer nodded and took the hand which pulled her to her feet.
As Reaper opened his eyes behind his mask he could feel the pain concentrated in his leg. He shifted beneath the debris, pushing at a particularly large boulder with the intent of freeing his trapped limb.
He gritted his teeth behind his mask, still set upon his face, though askew. His breath rasped as he worked, a grunt escaping him.
"Need a hand?"
Reaper paused in his effort and looked up to see McCree laying a stone's throw away. The idiotic "cowboy" was face down in the rocks, his serape was dusty. His hat had managed to fly away. But still he was smiling at Reaper and his struggle.
"Not from you," bit Reaper.
He didn't know if anyone from Overwatch recognized him yet but he didn't want to stick around to find out. Mustering his strength, Reaper willed himself to dissipate his cells and dislodge his pinned limb. He wafted up and back, away from McCree but was unable to hold it for long and he found himself coming together again ungracefully sprawled out upon the ground.
McCree worked his way to his feet and cautiously watched his old mentor. He didn't know what to say. He heard an explosion far overhead that sounded very much like D. Va's self destruct mechanism. He didn't look away from Reaper who he imagined bearing down and gritting his teeth behind that ridiculous mask.
He knew he was recognized and decided not to beat around the proverbial bush. It wasn't either of their styles.
"No one's here. You can stop pretending like you don't know me."
"It was never relevant enough to acknowledge," Reaper replied.
McCree just chuckled not surprised that Reaper hadn't easily given in and a little happy to know the old man he knew was still really there.
"Let me guess, Reyes is dead. Reaper walks in his stead?"
His communicator beeped and Tracer's voice came in through the static before Reaper replied.
"Jesse, you OK, love?"
"Sure am," McCree replied still watching Reaper.
His opponent pulled out his shotguns and pointed them unabashedly in his direction. McCree held up his hands.
"Though I seem to have lost Reaper in the fall," he lied. "I'm headed back up."
"Great. The payload's stopped and we've apprehended the criminals," Tracer informed him through the headset. "Everyone but Widowmaker."
McCree was amused by the dark tone the sniper's name was said in. He kind of liked the side of Lena Widowmaker was able to bring out of the usually playful pilot.
"Understood. I'll keep an eye out. Rendezvous at the drop ship."
He closed the line of communication and said directly to Reaper, "Good news and bad news. Which would you like first?"
Reaper didn't wait for McCree to tell him, "Those incompetent goonies weren't able to deliver the payload."
McCree nodded his affirmative.
"And Widowmaker saved her own ass."
"Bingo."
Reaper let out what could be interpreted as a sigh, pure sarcasm dripping from his voice, "It's so hard to find good help these days."
"I reckon so what with how poorly that lot on the train handled Blackwatch tactics."
McCree lowered his hands to fetch a cigar from his pocket but halted at the sound of Reaper's guns readying themselves to fire.
"Hey don't get trigger happy on me. I just want to talk," McCree assured him lifting his hands again.
"What's there to talk about?" Reaper asked.
"Well, let's see," McCree rubbed at his bearded with his gloved hand. "For starters last I heard you done blown yourself and a whole lot of people up in Switzerland."
"You actually believe that?" Reaper snorted.
"I don't know anything more than anyone else, just knew for a fact you weren't dead."
"The grave couldn't hold me."
McCree didn't laugh, he was used to Reyes' dramatics even then. His brush with whatever happened only seemed to amplify his intensity.
Reaper lowered his shotgun and McCree counted to 5 before lowering his hands. Finally he could grab his cigar. He placed the butt to his lips and lit it with a match.
"Didn't I tell you to quit that shit?" Reaper growled.
"I took it back up," McCree replied. "Not like I answer to anyone but myself anymore."
That had been Blackwatch McCree who didn't smoke. The real McCree, Jesse, the one under all the fancying up Reyes did to him, was more raw than that. It had been a long run for him, a good one too, in Blackwatch. It wasn't all bad, a lot of good was mixed up in it, but it hadn't been the right fit. He left without notice.
"You never did explain why you took off like that," Reaper said, though there wasn't a hint of curiosity in his voice.
"Too many rules, too many obligations. I was never good at any of that."
It wasn't anything Reaper didn't know. The kid wasn't terrible, but he was bad with rules. He worked too much by instinct and gut and it didn't rub too well with the Overwatch playbook. Blackwatch was an appropriate fit for him when young but the older he got the more restless he became.
"I knew you'd break away eventually," admitted Reaper. "I wasn't surprised when you finally did."
"Didn't think you would be," McCree said. "Or else I probably wouldn't have done it."
It was a bold admission and McCree really wished he could look in Reaper's eyes as he said it. Instead he had to face that mask.
"Yet, you came back," pointed out Reaper.
"Not sure if you've got the memo but Overwatch isn't quite what it used to be," McCree said.
He omitted the fact that he was pretty sure he wouldn't stick around too long this time either, even if the place was more his speed than it had been. He chuckled around the cigar in his mouth, shoulders shaking.
"What are you laughing at?"
"Just... I imagined what it would be like when I saw you again and this," McCree gestured to the rubble around them, the cliffs and sea. "This wasn't quite how I pictured it."
Reaper huffed and crossed his arms regarding McCree a bit.
"You never did change did you?" he asked. "You're reckless. I could have killed you."
"Ah, but that's where you're wrong. I did change. There's a lot I learned in your absence. Maybe one of these days I'll be able to show you."
Reaper took a moment to reply, as if he was weighing the statement in his mind, before the words came out of his mouth, "I look forward to it."
A warmth blossomed in McCree's chest and he cursed himself for having that residual desire for his mentor's approval. But he wasn't lying. He'd come into his own in his years away from Blackwatch and Reyes' influence. He was no longer Reyes' pupil.
Reaper lifted a clawed gauntlet to his own head, tapping at his hood.
"Your hat's missing," he said teasingly.
"Huh?" McCree was suddenly hyper aware of the wind in his hair and he reached up running metal fingers through his shaggy locks. "What the-"
He began turning around looking this way and that frantically.
"Where's my hat?"
All he could see were rocks and stones everywhere. Reaper's steady low laughter turned the cowboy's attention back to him.
"Don't just stand there! You gotta help me find it!"
McCree moved, climbing a few rocks to check the place he had initially landed.
"It's just a hat," Reaper replied, though he knew how much it meant to McCree.
"Yeah, and it's just a hoodie, it's just a beanie, it's just a mask," bit McCree over his shoulder.
Reaper unfolded his arms and walked over.
"I can't believe I am doing this," he muttered beneath his breath as he proceeded to help McCree look through the rubble.
Junkrat could hear voices as he came to. He blinked away the blurriness in his vision.
"Yep, he says he'll meet us at the drop ship," a female voice was saying.
A man replied, "OK, but what about the stuff here? We can't just leave it."
"Well, the authorities are on their way to pick up the contraband and gang members. We can keep the bastion unit for ourselves."
That got Junkrat's attention. He turned his head, he couldn't turn his body, he found. He was restricted, tied to a rather large crate and bound with rope at his hands and feet.
"Hey! You leave Bastion alone! He's mine!"
"Welp the scrawny one is awake," said the man.
He came into Junkrat's line of sight revealing himself to be toned with long dreads tied in a high ponytail. He looked familiar and Junkrat was able to place him as that famous guy on so many posters around the world.
"Who you callin' scrawny!?" quipped Junkrat back.
"You, Shrimp," Roadhog wheezed from behind his mask, alerting Junkrat to the fact that his partner was tied up as well to the same crate.
"You're enjoying this ain't you?" Junkrat pouted.
There was no reply.
"Let me go!" shrieked Junkrat.
"He's a loud one, ain't he?" another female said coming to Lucio's side.
"Should we knock him back out?" Lucio asked his partners.
"Please do," said Roadhog.
"You're not helping!" protested Junkrat.
A beep boop came out from Bastion. The unit was tied up to a crate beside him.
"Thanks Bastion, I knew you'd take my side!"
"Wait," said the girl in the blue and pink jumpsuit. "You can understand it?"
"Of course I can!" lied Junkrat. "Right, Bastion?"
Bastion gave a beep to the affirmative that actually made Junkrat start to believe his own tale.
"And like I said you can't have him! I found him. You ever heard the phrase, finders keepers?"
"I don't think you have a choice, love. You're all tied up. We could leave you right here and take him with us," said the British girl with short brown hair. "And besides, that phrase ends with 'losers weepers'."
"Looks like you lost to me," chimed in the other girl, D. Va.
Junkrat fought against his restraints in frustration. It wasn't fair! It was starting out to be such a great day and they had got themselves a nice scrap haul, but it had to go to shit because of these guys. Of course, he had confidence in his ability to escape, but it was still an annoyance. Having just woken up his mind wasn't yet to full speed and he just needed a moment to think.
"This isn't over yet, and like I said this scrap heap is mine."
"What's a guy like you going to do with a bastion?" asked Tracer, humoring the captive.
"Bastion," Junkrat said correcting the girl just to be a contrary. "Not a bastion."
Bastion made noises that seemingly backed him up.
"See, he has a name. And the bird is Ganymede."
A wheezing laugh of a cough came out of Roadhog's mouth that sounded something like the word bullshit, but one couldn't be too sure.
"OK fine, Bastion," Tracer conceded. "Look, I don't know who you are, and I don't really care. You don't look innocent but it's not any of my business. The Ilios task force are on their way to get you and the black market guys, but we keep Bastion."
"I'm not going to go to jail. What's it to blow up a couple of policemen?"
"We have your weapons," deadpanned Tracer.
"Yeah, for now," giggled Junkrat.
"Right," D. Va said, then looked at Tracer. "He's impossible. Can we go back to the drop ship now?"
"Sure thing. You and Lucio can go ahead and I'll wait here for the police. Take Bastion."
"Hey! Aren't you listening to anything I say? Bastion only listens to me, so good luck getting him to follow you," Junkrat said.
"Are you like... a team?" Lucio asked.
"Yep, and I'm the boss," replied Junkrat.
Lucio hummed and then looked at Roadhog.
"It's true," confirmed the giant. "He's boss."
Lucio rubbed his chin for a moment, taking in Junkrat's shit eating grin, and then gesturing for Tracer to follow him. He, D. Va and Tracer walked away just far enough for the Junkers to not be able to hear them.
"So what do you think?" Lucio asked.
"What do you mean? We're turning them in," Tracer said.
"Why are we taking Bastion back again?" D. Va asked, unwrapping a piece of bubble gum and tossing it into her mouth.
Lucio held out his hand and D. Va handed him the packet.
"OK," said Tracer. "This is actually some intel between Winston and I but there has been reports of a single operational bastion unit that is roaming the wilderness. Winston has been wanting to track it down so we could weaponize it for Overwatch purposes while also researching the mechanisms that suppresses its fight instinct."
"Hmm, and you think Bastion is the bastion?" asked Lucio.
"There's supposedly only one."
"I don't trust them," D. Va said popping her gum. "They're not with these goonies but they stink, and not just literally either."
She pinched her nose and the other two nodded.
"Well, if it's true Bastion only answers to the boss we'll find out soon enough," shrugged Lucio.
"So I guess this means we untie the unit and get it to the jump ship?"
Tracer nodded, "We try."
The three shared a look to show they were all in on the plan and then turned around to where their captives were, only to see they were gone. A pool of rope lay in the grass where they once sat.
"They escaped!" gasped Tracer.
Junkrat's wild cackling was heard along with the loud foot steps of Roadhog and Bastion retreating.
McCree and Reaper were still searching for the hat.
There was very little conversation between the two, but it wasn't uncomfortable. The sun was no longer so high over head. A considerable amount of time had passed since their two teams' encounter on the cliff side. It was so much hotter than McCree realized earlier. The brim of his hat did so well to shield him from the sun and he missed it dearly.
If he wasn't so intent on finding it perhaps McCree would laugh at the silliness of the situation. He regretted the fact he'd have no one to talk to about it upon getting back to Gibraltar. His time spent with Reyes would have to remain secret for the time being.
McCree kicked at a particularly huge boulder then moved to use his arms when it didn't budge. A bead of sweat trickled down his brow and into his unkempt beard and he paused briefly to wipe it. He chanced a glance at Reaper who was a distance away on knees, cloak billowing out comically behind him like a dress, and head completely hidden by his hood.
"Ain't you hot in all that?" McCree shouted.
"Did you ever know me to be hot?"
McCree thought about it for a second before smiling around his cigar, "No, Mr. Hood-in-the-Summertime, sir."
Reaper showed no outward signs of being bothered by the teasing. McCree missed his face, but still didn't bring up the mask. McCree returned to his hunt, expecting it to return to quiet when Reaper was the one who spoke first.
"You imagined our reunion?"
The voice was right behind him, spoken directly into his ear, and it sent a trill up McCree's spine. His hat was slammed roughly onto his head and McCree whirled around and found himself chest to chest with his old mentor.
"Holy fuck," McCree said, heart like a hammer against his ribcage.
He was briefed by Winston to the fact Reaper could teleport but he didn't register it until that moment.
"Thanks," he said.
"Don't mention it," Reaper said.
Reaper moved back, giving McCree the space that the cowboy didn't really want back.
"I did," McCree said, answering Reaper's initial question. "Like I said, I damn sure knew you won't dead."
"How did it go?" Reaper asked.
McCree shrugged, "Various ways. It would be random, maybe in a bar – Dorado – you'd be drinking with that vigilante guy, Soldier 76-"
Reaper snorted.
"And I'd see you, buy you a drink. You'd scold me for smoking."
"You're fucking ridiculous," Reaper said, and McCree thought he could read amusement in it.
"I am, aren't I? But this is nice too," McCree said gesturing around them to the rock beach they stood upon.
"Hmph, romantic," Reaper replied.
McCree's grin grew wider. As a burst of blood rushed to his cheeks he reminded himself that it was a joke, and no, he didn't still hold a candle for his old mentor. That crush had died years ago, and of course he was no longer so impressionable.
"You said it," McCree drawled, not missing a beat. "Not me."
Reaper slapped the hat off of McCree's head.
-to be continued-
AN - one more chapter! Wooo! thanks everyone for the feedback! I appreciate it much!