Unsurprisingly, not everyone at Overwatch welcomed me with open arms. Jesse McCree – or, should I say, Joel Marricone – was no exception. I happened to stop at the bar at just the right time and found him sitting all by his lonesome, a shot of what I assumed to be whiskey sitting close at his side. I was trying to be as casual as I could with my attire, sporting a long-sleeve purple shirt and blue jeans. I can't remember wearing shoes in such a long time; I was used to the leggings of my Talon outfit. I took my chances and sat on the stool next to him.
I seemed to have invaded his personal space. He looked up from the table, taking his hand off his forehead, and looked at me. He seemed miserable.
"Hey," I said in as friendly of a manner as I could, trying to break off the tension. "The name's Sombra."
He grunted. "Yeah, I know ya. I'd recognize that voice, that hair, and those eyes from anywhere." The smell of cigar smoke and alcohol washed my face. "What do you want, lady?"
"Oh...well, you just seemed like you were a bit lonely, so I thought I'd keep you some company."
He looked at me, bewildered. "Why would I want a terrorist sittin' next to me?"
The bartender glanced at us, then went back to cleaning his glass. He probably assumed Joel would easily take care of me if I caused a problem.
I had to admit, this was one of the few times in my life where I got nervous. "You haven't heard? I left Talon -"
"Now, why on earth should I believe that? Even if you did, doesn't mean you've stopped being that annoyin' hackin' punk who prides herself in gettin' information that isn't any of her business."
I tapped into his file back when I was a part of Talon. Former member of the Deadlock Gang, which brought in illegal weapons and military hardware throughout the Southwestern United States. Got caught at one point by Overwatch. He was forced to either join their black ops division, Blackwatch, or left to die in a security cell. Naturally, he chose the former. He abandoned the group sometime later, when Overwatch was starting to collapse, and didn't come back to the surface until several years later, calling himself a gunslinger for hire. Now he's wanted, for $60,000,000. I wasn't surprised to discover the document mentioned he has PTSD.
"Seriously, Jesse," I mentioned his alias to get on his good side, "I'm only trying to make a friend here. I just joined Overwatch and was stripped of my suit. I can't cloak or anything like that until I get that back. I'm trying to be the good girl, for once. Just ask Jack. I'm helping to bring an end to the Omnic Crisis."
He glanced back at the wooden table and groaned, rubbing his hands up and down his face. "That seems kinda hard to believe, young lady. What in tarnation is goin' on in that techno-brain o' yours that would make you believe we can end that?"
"Peace," I replied. "Making peace with The Eye makes it weak."
He put his hands back on his face again and appeared to be deep in thought. "You're gonna to have to excuse me, ma'am. Gonna need some time to contemplate all this." Awkward silence hung in the air after that.
"Another time, perhaps," I said, getting off the stool and putting my hand on his shoulder. "Pleasure meeting you." No, it wasn't.
...
"Cariño, I'd really like to have that suit back. I can't be of much use without it."
Jack mumbled. "Okay, fine. Did you get a chance to talk to Jesse?"
"Yeah. It, uh...didn't go as well as I had expected."
"Jesse finds it hard to trust anyone. That's why he prefers to go solo so much. Sorry; I'll talk to him." Jack walked over to a locker, input a code, then opened it. He pulled out my purple suit and handed it to me. "You know, we should make another one so that I can do the same things that you can."
I couldn't help but laugh. "You would look so ridiculous, Jack; you'd look like a girl in skin-tight leggings. Besides, this suit is highly advanced; only I know how to use the technology behind it."
He grunted. "Obviously, I wouldn't have it look the way you have yours."
"Yeah, yeah, if you say so, amigo. Gracias." I smiled and headed to my room. I stripped myself and headed into the bathroom. I slid the temperature slider to hot and entered the bathtub. As I let the drops of warm water pierce and slide my way down my Latina skin, my resentment for Joel started to slowly disintegrate. I slowly rubbed my fingers against my body, down my arms, down my hips, smiling in pleasure. Eventually, they came to my bush, and I opened my pussy lips.
I'm going to have you inside me, Joel, one way or another...
Aight, sorry for the holdup. Going to be honest here, I'm having a hard time trying to figure out how this story is going to roll. Stay positive, though. I should have more in the future.
