Hey guys, I'm sorry this has come out so late. There's been a lot of reasons. I got into a car accident, the elections have drawn a lot of my attention, and we bought a new bunny (his name is Kingsley Shacklebolt and he's cuter than you can imagine). It's been a busy month.

On top of that, I couldn't upload the document! FanFiction was having login problems for days.

Anyway, I had fun writing this chapter. Things are starting to heat up, and I loved writing the comedy for Zen. I hope some of the physical humor is understandable in text. Let me know what you think in the reviews! Please be critical and constructive. I'm doing this to get better at writing (and for fun).

Edit: Re-readers, I've made some changes to this chapter. Nothing too significant. It happens in the fight. I thought of a new behavior Moira could express during the fight and incorporated that into a slightly revised fight scene. Let me know if you like the change.


McCree heard Pharah shouting something, but the details were lost to the noise of the crowd. Didn't matter. His mind was made up. Little she could have said to change that.

McCree's holstered Peacemaker cut into his gut as he sprinted through the crowds. This is why I hate running, he thought to himself.

The assassin leapt to another rooftop.

I need to get ahead of this thing.

McCree spotted a moped a couple of blocks ahead. He shook his head in frustration over what he was about to do.

He drew his Peacekeeper and halfheartedly aimed it at the person parking their moped, being careful to keep his finger off the trigger. "Get off, now!" McCree ordered the civilian. The young man raised his hands in fear. McCree avoided eye-contact.

"Helix Security," McCree informed, "they'll get this back to you. HELIX. SECURITY," he enunciated as clearly and loudly as he could, unsure if his victim knew English. He holstered the Peacekeeper again, and sped off in the stolen, powder-blue moped.

McCree looked up at the assassin who had gained several more blocks by this time. The view from the street made it easier to see the assassin, but now he had to be concerned with traffic. He's no good to anyone if he dies under some tires.

McCree looked into the middle distance, halfway between the assassin on the rooftop and the street. He relaxed his eyes and tried to track both targets at once; the assassin and the traffic.

Another car entered the street from beyond his peripheral vision, where he couldn't see it coming. He swerved as soon as he realized the car had cut him off, and narrowly avoided a collision. But when he looked back up to rooftops, the assassin was gone.

"Damn," McCree swore to himself. He pulled over to the sidewalk to get a better look around. But he already knew it was of little use.

"They are trying to steal the God program," a robotic voice calmly informed McCree. McCree turned to find an Omnic robot sitting cross-legged on the ground, wearing monk's clothes.

McCree gave the Omnic a discerning look. "Huh? Did you see where they went?" McCree asked, his voice a bit panicked as his eyes searched the area.

"The Iris sees all," the mysterious Omnic monk preached, mantra-like. McCree gave him a sidelong glance, followed by a raised eyebrow.

"O-kay then," McCree sounded out.

"I would like to assist you with stopping them," the monk continued, dreamlike in his cadence. Without fanfare, the monk then floated up from where he sat until he hovered about two feet above the ground. McCree's eyes widened.

"H- how are you doing that?" McCree questioned as he motioned at the floating monk with his hand.

"One day, I dreamt I was a butterfly," the monk replied airily, not even hinting at any further clarifications.

McCree just stared at him blankly. The monk stared back, equally blankly.

McCree gently shook himself from his reverie and took note of the monk. The monk wore goldenrod-colored pants that were baggy. Red cloth was wrapped around his waist, like a belt, one end hanging between his legs, like a loin cloth. On the monk's forehead, nine blue dots almost glowed, in a three-by-three layout. A necklace of massive metal balls hung around the monk's neck. McCree quickly counted; nine balls. Probably to match the forehead dots, McCree thought.

"With every passing moment, your goal escapes you," the monk interrupted McCree's staring.

"Right," McCree said, as if the word were a bridge and he was testing its ability to hold weight.

The monk began to float towards McCree, who was still sitting on his stolen moped. He stopped above the seat cushion, behind McCree, but remained floating. "I will give you guidance," the monk explained.

"Uhhh...are you situated?" McCree asked, looking at the monk's legs, folded and floating above the seat.

"Always," answered the monk. McCree shrugged and began driving, following the monk's directions.

McCree quickly realized where they were heading; the Giza Plateau. Where the infamous God program supposedly resided. McCree had been told about its alleged importance for humanity, though he didn't see how that could be. McCree also knew it had caused a small uprising a few years back that killed a bunch of people. Whatever it was, McCree decided that Talon shouldn't be in control of it.

"Forgive me," the monk interrupted McCree's ponderings, "I did not give you my name, nor receive yours."

"Didn't know Omnics were so polite," McCree replied, blithely.

"What you know and what you don't know are unbalanced," the monk observed. "Allow me to help bring that balance. I am unknown as Zenyatta."

"Unknown? The expression is 'I am known'," insisted McCree.

"But I am not known, as you've clearly pointed out," countered Zenyatta.

McCree raised a finger to object, but decided better of it. Instead, he grunted out, "McCree." They drove the rest of the way in silence.

You could hear the alarms from outside of the Temple of Anubis. Not much worry about it being a secret facility anymore. Good, thought McCree, because I didn't really feel like getting chewed out for bringing the monk along. Besides, the monk already seemed like he knew where this place was.

Carnage of Omnic research and defense robots decorated the street outside the temple. As McCree approached the metal carnage, he slowed the moped to a stop. His eyes narrowed as he surveyed the bodies. No heads. Every single body was headless.

"This doesn't look good," McCree said quietly, mostly to himself.

McCree stepped off the moped, not thinking to put up the kickstand. The moped toppled underneath Zenyatta, but he remained floating as if nothing had changed.

McCree looked back to the noise of the toppled moped. While he was turned, a single red laser appeared on the back of his head. McCree turned back to see the laser mechanically locked onto the position of his forehead.

Before McCree could react, Zenyatta floated into action. In a second, he was beside McCree, reaching out towards the laser, as if to block it. But his hand wasn't in front of the laser. Instead, the baseball-sized balls that hung around his neck rapidly floated into a line that formed along the laser, starting at Zenyatta's hand, ending a few inches from McCree's face.

I single shot shattered the air. The bullet collided with the line of balls as Zenyatta's arms made smooth catching motions. Each ball collided with the ball next in line, taking a piece of the momentum from the bullet, until there was only enough force left to give McCree a bloody nose. The last ball collided with McCree's face, stunning the cowboy.

Zenyatta was too busy to notice his bloodied companion. The catching motion he had made earlier became a wind-up as he threw the balls back at the sniper. Each ball connected with head of the sniper, making a satisfying clink. McCree couldn't see the sniper's body to begin with, but the lack of red laser made it clear that the monk had taken it out for good.

Zenyatta then pulled his arms back to his sides, followed by a clap of his hands. All nine balls flew back gently until they rested are Zenyatta's neck again.

"Ow!" McCree exclaimed as he wiped away the blood.

"Oh, are you ok?" Zenyatta asked, politely.

Before McCree could answer, half a dozen red lasers appeared on the street.

"Come on," McCree grunted through the pain as ran into an alley, out of sight of the snipers. Zenyatta floated behind him.

McCree crouched tensely in the alley, watching the street, as Zenyatta took position behind him. "And keep it down," he half-whispered at Zenyatta while waving a hand in a downward motion. Zenyatta gave him a curious look, then observed his floating legs. Zenyatta then lowered himself, and floated closer to the ground.

"Looks like you were right. They're here. I count six snipers at least," McCree continued. "No way for me to get a clear shot without another taking me out."

McCree studied the sniper lasers as they mechanically searched the ground, reacting to each flutter of clothing caused by the wind.

Wait, McCree thought, weren't there six snipers?

Before he could recount a third time, all of the sniper lasers tracked up, over the rooftops. Someone was up there with them.

Gunshots and sniper bolts rang out.

"We've got more company. I don't know who, but the snipers are distracted. Time to go, monk," McCree huffed as he ran towards the open doors of the temple. But before he could step through the threshold, a ghost appeared before him.

Moira casually lead a half dozen armed Talon soldiers. The sight of McCree in front of the Temple broke her stride.

"I didn't expect to see you here, McCree," Moira drawled. The soldiers by her side raised their weapons.

Six quick shots rang out from McCree's Peacekeeper. A soldier fell over dead to each shot.

Moira's face went from stunned to mildly vexed.

McCree gave a wry smile. "Yet somehow, I knew it would be you, Moira," McCree explained as his wrist jerked to empty the casings from his gun. "Let's catch up."

Moira frowned, saying, "I don't have time for this." Almost in response, three Talon assassins, with their arm blades already drawn, appeared from the shadows of the temple.

Moira twisted her arms across her chest, as if throwing a cloud. A silk-smooth orb of purple and black magma appeared in the air, escaping from her arms. She then vanished in a cloud of purple and black smoke. The assassins didn't give McCree a chance to find her. They blurred from pillars to walls to the floor, in attempts to scare and distract their targets. The glow of their Omnic eyes were the only way to follow their movements, but only barely. McCree started backing away from the encroaching purple orb, while reloading the Peacekeeper.

As the purple orb approaching McCree and Zenyatta, it reached for them with a smoky tendril that felt cold to the touch. McCree knew better than to try to touch the intangible tendril. The only way to survive that is to get away from it.

Zenyatta immediately floated away from the orb, being sure not to get too close to it. He watched as the light in McCree slowly faded from the world. As if his existence slowly drained. He gently tossed a ball that hung around his neck towards McCree. The thrown ball latched onto McCree, like a balloon floating around his center. An aura of golden light connected the floating orb to McCree's body.

McCree began to feel the familiar coldness of the orb fade away. His gun clicked. Security. He was ready for a fight now. He'd killed that other one. How hard can they be to hit?

Zenyatta then made the same motion, but this time the motion had a a different momentum, and a different target. One of the assassins. The ball hung just as it did on McCree, but the aura was in opposition to the other's. Purple and black aura connected the ball to the assassin.

The assassin didn't pay it any mind. When the assassin tried to make another jump, it slipped. One of its feet skidded off the pillar and allowed the assassin to fall to the floor. It landed on its hands and feet with lightning reflexes, recovering from its fall. It looked at the foot that slipped, and even with its expressionless face, McCree could tell it was confused.

The other assassins gave the fallen assassin a confused look as well.

Zenyatta stepped forward, as if to explain. "Your path is in discord with the Iris, sisters," he accused. He threw another two orbs, one on each of the remaining assassins. The purple glow of the orbs marked each of them like dots on a map.

"Allow me to show you a better path," Zenyatta concluded.

McCree gave the monk a sidelong glance, trying to figure out what angle the monk was playing at. Intimidation? Confusion?

The assassins didn't show any consideration for his words. They charged.

One assassin appeared in McCree's face without warning. McCree instinctively threw a flash bang from his pocket, stunning the assassin momentarily. He fired two shots at its head, but they ricocheted off its titanium plating.

At the same time, the other two assassins had already surrounded Zenyatta. The assassins loosed a flurry of slices, but the monk dodged them readily and elegantly. Each slice, however, forced Zenyatta to retreat just a little.

The assassin attacking McCree forced him to back up too. In a few steps, McCree and Zenyatta were back to back. The assassin's leveled three slices at both of them. Zenyatta grabbed McCree by the back of his shirt and pulled him down so his torso was horizontal with the ground. Zenyatta leaned back into a mirrored position, allowing for both of them to doge the most recent slashes.

McCree, unexpecting of the monk's grab, fell onto his back from his lack of balance. Zenyatta thrust his hands and legs outward, each making contact with their attackers.

Hitting the ground didn't distract McCree much. From his back he emptied the Peacekeeper at the assassin that had attacked him. But instead of going for headshots, he focused each shot onto a single shoulder. Each bullet damaged the arm further until it hung limply and useless by the assassin's side.

One of the assassins Zenyatta had kicked began leaping from pillar to pillar in a blur. The other assassin continued slicing at Zenyatta, forcing him to back up further. The wounded assassin stepped behind Zenyatta, raising its working arm to Zenyatta's neck. The jumping assassin appeared in front of Zenyatta with two more arm-blades criss-crossed against his neck.

The third assassin had stopped slicing at Zenyatta and had started slicing at McCree. McCree began rolling like a log to avoid getting cut. The assassin then thrust its two arm-blades into the ground on either side of McCree's head, preventing him from escaping any further.

The assassins stopped their movements. The air became quiet enough to hear the smoke of Moira appearing again.

McCree looked up at her. "Moira, why are you working with them? You don't have to do this."

Moira looked into McCree's eyes. She frowned for just a second before looking away. "You didn't have to try to stop me," she replied.

"You know that isn't true," McCree countered.

Moira sighed quietly. "I know," she acknowledged. "Which is why I'm just taking you prisoner. I don't want to hurt you, Jesse," Moira explained.

McCree's eyes narrowed at her. But before he could come up with a clever response, gunshots shattered the quiet. The assassin that kept McCree pinned was suddenly getting peppered by bullets from the rooftops. The assassin raised its blades from the ground to block the incoming shots.

A hissing sound chased another one of the assassins. When the sound died, the assassin fell over, unconscious. Zenyatta didn't hesitate. He grabbed the arm of the third assassin, standing behind him, and directed its blade into its own chest as he leaned out of the way.

He then pulled his hands in tightly as the balls around his neck began to swirl in a blue glow. He released his hands and the balls followed directly into the unconscious assassin's head, until there wasn't a head anymore.

The assassin protecting itself from income bullets tried to jump to a wall. But when it got there a group of spiraling rockets was already en route to its landing spot. The rockets exploded the assassin's legs, causing it to hang to the wall by its arms. More bullets came from the roof at its unprotected body. Soon, only scrap metal remained.

McCree followed the path of the bullets to their savior's location. An old man in a mask stood at the edge of the roof, firing bullets into the assassins. And next to him another masked figure crouched, in a hood, holding a sniper rifle. This figure, however, McCree recognized as Shrike; the masked vigilante he'd heard about.

McCree then rolled to search for Moira, but during the fighting, she had disappeared without a trace.

"Damn," McCree swore to himself. He looked back up to the rooftop to see if he could further identify his saviors. But they had disappeared too.

He looked around for Zenyatta. He found him floating away down the street. McCree stood up and shouted, "Hey monk, where are you going?"

Zenyatta gave a friendly wave back to McCree. "Wherever the Iris is taking me," Zenyatta replied.

McCree stood a bit dumbfounded among the wreckage of the fight. "Everyone just left me with the bill, I guess," he said entirely for his own amusement.