JESSE

SOMEWHERE IN TEXAS, US, 2082

"Come back to bed, Jesse."

She says it half asleep, I can barely understand her. Do I feel bad for leaving? Count on it, do every time, but I'll feel worse in the morning if I stay. She is awfully pretty, though. Jessica she said her name was. How about that, we both thought. Jesse and Jessica. Meant to be, she said. When I turn back from the balcony, she's already out again. This sorta thing is not usual for me, honest. I just needed some rest is all.

"You know I can't, darlin'," I whisper to her, myself, and the ghosts of this hotel. I leave a flower on the nightstand with a note I bulled up to make her feel better. Maybe she'd write a book about it some day. 'My night with The Outlaw, Jesse McCree.' I'm such a damn softy.

I put on the pancho, the jeans, the belt, and lord knows the hat, and turn back to the balcony. Not the front door, never. I pick up the bag I carry around with me and chuck it to the street below, hoping and knowing I didn't break anything from the fall. I follow soon after, grabbing onto the dry clay wall of the hotel as I go. It always feels like a longer drop than it turns out.

The place had that bright and colorful Mexican look to it. There's a dime a dozen of them this close to the border, where tourists go to experience the 'Real Mexico', but never dream about crossing the Rio. Like they even know what 'real' is. They see these clay walls and these bright colorful lights and the decorations and say 'Authentic', because their own houses got too dull.

Auténtico Mexicano es feo, mis amigos. The gangs, the worst of which now is Los Muertos, made sure of that. Hell, just the other day I heard about some report of a big stint in Dorado. Stole money from a little girl and were gonna kill her, if not for some good samaritan. Old guy, apparently.

Doesn't seem so long ago that I was in a band of assholes myself. If it wasn't for Jack, I might still be in that band of assholes, or under the dirt with them. Good ol' Jack. Why'd Reyes do that to you?

Damn Reyes and his Blackwatch. I'm glad I got out when I did; a few more months and I might have been part of that nonsense. I had heard the whispers, the rumors, should have seen the signs, but no one really thought it would happen. Reyes ain't around for us to grab a confession out of him. Not that we needed one.

Gabe always had it out for Jack, ever since the UN named Jack strike commander of Overwatch. Thats a long time to hold a grudge, but if Reyes was known for anything, it was his unforgiving side. Still, can't say he didn't get what needed doing done. Even if it meant doing some pretty shady stuff.

The worst part was convincing Reinhardt. He was gonna crush me if I hadn't said the right thing. Hell, I don't blame him. I'd suspect me too. But that wasn't bad. What was bad is that he was torn up. I couldn't stand to see it. Seeing him cry like that, at the memorial, it ruined us all.

Even the biggest ones gotta break sometime.

Raymond's voice in my head again. He said it all the time, as a way to tell us to go for the biggest score imaginable. Only the last one got us all busted by Blackwatch. Some of us died for it. Most were locked up. But me?

No one ever asked me why I joined Blackwatch. I guess it seemed obvious. I chose them over prison, simple as that, they probably all think. Not the case, not by a long shot.

I make it all the way down the block before I hear a scream from the window I'd just left. I turn around and see the son of a bitch leaning out the balcony and looking for me. This lot is a tenacious bunch of idiots, I'll give em that. My own fault. I showed my face, I said my name, I stayed too long in one place. It was time to leave this town anyway.

Then what the hell am I waiting for?

All at once, I'm back on 66, in '66, 21 years old, in that dusty old diner, waiting for my coffee. I just killed my first man. The Gang, the Deadlock Gang, feels it's time to celebrate. The Coffee tasted like dirt, but I tip the waitress every time I'm here anyway. Gotta be hard when your most loyal customers are a bunch of no-good ingrates who rarely even pay for their own meals. My share always went to that diner, whenever we were done with a score. The waitress learned pretty quick to put the near-twenty meals on one ticket. Even this time, when it's supposed to be for me. The waitress asks me if I'm alright, if I need anything. I just smile at her.

I never ask the gang for the money back, cus I know they won't give it. The guy came at me with a shotgun, I tell myself. I was defending myself. It doesn't make it better, especially since we were rustling his Combines for parts. Just scraps, way smaller fry than we're used to doing. Probably didn't even need to do it, it was just for kicks. A man was dead, because we wanted to have fun. And we never looked back.

When I pull myself back to the present, I'm leaned against a wall, still looking up at the balcony. I watch the guy go back inside, and hear a struggle.

This is my fault, my own voice this time, damn me.

I make my way back to the hotel through the alleyways, steering clear of the streets. When I reach the window looking into the lobby, there are two cops, and three other jokers. All armed. Smart. They're going through the books, tearing the place up. I can hear a few wayward gunshots upstairs, but they don't sound like they're hurting anyone. Yet. Not smart. The poor receptionist is scared out of her wits. Not sure who they are, but two-bit bounty hunters have had worse disguises.

I run through my options. Going in screaming seems the dumbest idea, as always. I could try and just casually walk by them, hope they don't know exactly who they're after, though that seems unlikely.

"Screw it." The one closest to the front desk says, just before he reaches over and drags the woman from behind it, putting a barrel to her head. I flinch. "We know you're here McCree! Come out, come peacefully, and we won't hurt no one."

"Anyone," his buddy says, one of the 'cops' with the submachine gun.

"What?"

"Won't hurt anyone. We gotta look smart, or he'll walk all over us."

The illiterate goon I mark first. He's got to go quickest. The other two jokers seem more dangerous, so they're next up. "Would you shut up? I ain't got time for grammar."

"Don't." The other cop with a holstered pistol says, I tag him last.

"Shut-"

Before he can finish, the flashbang goes off in the lobby. I say my apologies to the poor receptionist under my breath. Her eyes will hurt for a good while, but she'll live. I've bought myself a bit of time to get in.

When the front door crashes open, three bullets ring the Jokers' skulls. Non-lethal rounds. I made sure. Wish I hadn't. When the cops' ears and heads stop ringin', they pull their guns up to fire, and a few rounds hit the wall behind me when I roll towards the one with the auto. The gun itself gets tossed across the room. I plant my metal fist right in his gut and send him to the floor. The other cop turns his pistol to catch where I went. A single shot, and it bounces off my bionic arm. Would have been a headshot, I'll give him that. I unload the last three rounds into him and knock him out.

The receptionist is still reeling when I lift her up off the ground. Her bunned up hair is all messed up now and she looks a lot like how she probably feels. When her eyes clear and she sees me, she kinda smiles, kinda cries. "Thank you," she tries to say, but her voice is too shaky.

"Don't worry about it," I say, reloading. "How many more were there?"

"Th-there were uhm…" she has to think for a second. Flashbangs will mess you up. "There were six more."

Ten man job? For me? I'm almost flattered, but then I remember what kinda brains were in these ten. "Ma'am," I say, tipping my hat and heading up the fire-escape stairs on the right. I push open the door to the second floor, and it's a wreck. White sheets, busted doors, spilled drinks, bullet holes in the walls. A couple run past me, all out of their wits with fear.

I walk by door after door, listening for rummaging. I see a door banged wide open, and turn. The guy is looking through the damn cupboards. I can't help but laugh. "I'm a bit too big for that space, bud." I tag him before he can get his gun shouldered.

I lean into the hallway when his buddy peaks his head out three doors down to see where that shot came from. "Hey there," is all I say, planting one right between his eyes. It'll give him a nasty hangover when he wakes up, and I'm glad for it.

I ride the elevator to the third floor. Elevators are noisy in the quiet. All those dings. Sure enough, when it opens they shoot it up. I'm a bit smarter than that though, and I watch from the trapdoor above as three of 'em pour into the elevator. All three. Wow.

Of course, I tear the first counterweight cable out, old fashioned, this place. The Box juts, and all the dummies look up through the open trap. I take a long drag of my cigar. Guess it must have lit up my face, cus they look pretty spooked. A couple rounds get off before I crush the other cable. The car falls, we four fall with it. Three stories and it smashes to the ground.

They stumble out into the lobby all over each other and I hop back down into the box. I walk right through the dust into the clear. The receptionist has a phone in her hand, but she's not saying anything, just staring. I give another tip of my hat and make my way back up the stairs.

Room 501 is what I'm after. Fifth floor, all the way to the left. I can't waste any time. Jessica might be gone already. I turn the corner and it's as bad as I fear. The asshole has a gun to her head, using her as a shield. Scum.

"Alright, McCree. Alright. We didn't expect you to be this good, I admit that." I got nothing to say to him. I see the sun rising behind him, purpling the sky and burning the horizon. It makes a shadow of him. "Now, I'm getting out of here, scott-free. And this bitch is comin' with me. Got it?"

I say nothing still, but he pulls back the hammer on his gun. Pointless, but it gets the message across. "Yeah, I got it, slick." I walk around him to the left, puffing my cigar still. It's getting low. He circles round to the door, opposite me, and I keep as good an eye on him as I can. Jessica looks like she could kill me if she got loose. I would laugh if it were funny.

"Alright, easy… easy." He says, more to himself I think. He backs to the door, but it's already too late for him. I give a nod to Jessica, and the smart girl gets the idea. She shuts her eyes nice and tight.

I see the sun hit his face and it burns, just as the skull in my vision flashes red and I finally get a clean shot on his bald head. He panics, pointing his gun blindly in front of him. I roll to his left, kick the door closed, and plant one into the red skull maker in my retina. He collapses, and Jessica is free.

"You alright, darlin'?" She slaps me. I earned it.

"I read your letter, jackass. You think I'm that stupid?" I can't help but laugh.

"I just thought I'd lighten the blow. You know I-"

"Lighten the blow, Jesse? You really think I expected you to stay? Damn you are as dumb as you dress."

I actually take offense to that. "Hey now, the pancho ain't that bad."

She rolls her eyes. "The Belt Buckle is."

I got nothing to say to her. Maybe BAMF wasn't the best choice to put on a belt buckle. I start to search the unconscious guy on the floor. "Who was he?" She asks me, and I'm focused on finding out just that.

His ID is useless, three days from expiring, there's only a few dollars in his wallet, and he's got pictures of his wife and kids. Desperate. Wish I could say I feel bad. "Just some two-bit thinking he could score big. Must have been at the bar when you and I were-"

I hear the gun cock, I feel the barrel against my head, and I wince. "Dammit all," I say aloud.

"Shut up. Get up, McCree." Jessica says, her voice just a bit changed. Stern. I do, slowly, hands in the air. As reckless as I am, I like to keep my brain where it is. She motions to the front door, and I move. Should have seen this comin'. "Why?"

She scoffs. "Really? Its for the money, Jesse. Did you really think I was asking all those questions because I like the way your droll hangs?" She actually laughs. "Throw your gun over the side." I do. And when I look over, I see more red and blue lights outside, waiting for me.

"All that talk about 'Meant to be'?" I gaze over the edge a bit longer, then turn to her. "Just a bunch of bull?"

She hesitates a bit, and I catch a glimpse of doubt in her eyes. Rich and light brown. "Shut up, McCree."

"I mean, I have had my fair share of one-nighters. But you. You were different." I shake my head, "Somethin' else entirely."

"I said shut it, you womanizing shit." She jerks the gun ahead, emotional.

"You know I traveled the world, seen all kinds. Never thought the one I'd actually see the day where I might wanna stop." I let my eyes water up a bit. "Never thought I'd even consider settlin' down. Even a little bit. Then you just… tore that wall down." I let that little number liner on her, make her think. The gun is still pointed at me. "Guess not, though."

She hesitates, and I know she feels the same. A shake of the head, a couple of flickering, watery eyes, and she drops the gun to her side. "Get the hell out of here."

I give her a grin, the same one she said she liked so much. "You know you're pretty good. Catchin me like this," I say to her, but she doesn't budge. "But you gotta admit," I flick the cigar over the side as well and drop my hands to my sides, leaning back against the rail, five stories up. "I look pretty good in the hat."

It always feels like a longer drop than it turns out. When I hit the ground, I roll to keep momentum, picking the gun up as I pass over. The doors to the lobby are opening up just as I rise again, and I flashbang the lot of them, diving out the window on the left. I have a couple seconds to get out of sight, but it's enough. Sirens whir and blare all damn morning.

It's well into the afternoon when I finally make it out of town, and I look back down on it. The Hotel is clear as day from here. I give it one last look, and I know, just as Jessica probably did, that I'd never see her again. Smart girl.