A/N: Okay so a couple of apologies: one for taking this freaking long to change the summary (which was inaccurate), and two for this chapter taking so long. My college is on trimesters and we started back up on January 2. So I've been busy with Learning.
Anyways, here ya go!
Chapter 7: Still the Same
A bullet whizzes past his ear and hits the training dummy right in between where its eyes would've been. Jesse whips around, following the ghostly trail of the bullet to a crouched figure on the upper training level. The figure stands up, and despite the heavy, armored clothing, Jesse can make out a small but imposing lady.
"You are blinder than a mole," she says in an accent he doesn't recognize. "On the field, you would be dead." She vaults over the railing and lands light as a feather. Her long black hair is kept flat underneath a blue military cap, and under one of her eyes is a strange tattoo.
Ana Amari. The legendary sniper of Overwatch. What is she doing at Blackwatch?
"Hey now, I've made it this far alright," Jesse replies.
She scoffs. "Hardly. I'm surprised Gabe would let such a child join his little posse."
"I ain't a child," Jesse hisses. His fist clenches around Peacekeeper. He hasn't been a child in a long time. That was taken from him when his ma died.
Ana Amari smirks at him. "Prove it."
He huffs and turns to the dummies again. But there's a hand on his shoulder, turning him back around violently, harshly. The sniper rifle is gone, the blue hat is gone, the challenging smile is gone. Ana stares at him with hollow eye sockets, blood streaking down her face and greying hair. She opens her mouth and
McCree jolted awake. His heart hammered against his ribs, and his hand had instinctively reached for Peacekeeper. He pulled the hand back to his chest, pressing the cool metal to his heart.
A dream. Nothin' but a twisted up memory.
It was still dark outside. He couldn't have been asleep for more than a few hours. There was no chance in hell he'd be going back to sleep now, but he still rolled over and pulled the blankets over his head. Being up before the sun was not his disposition, even after so many years on the run.
He must've drifted off slightly, because he opened his eyes and it was bright again and someone was knocking on his door. With a groan, he pushed himself out of bed, bare feet hitting the cold metal floor. He pressed the door panel, and it slid open.
"Oh. Fareeha," he said through a yawn.
"Good morning to you, too," she said. "Nice shirt."
McCree rubbed his eyes and glanced down at his pajama shirt. It said, in bold black letters, save a horse, ride a cowboy. He gave Fareeha a roguish grin. "That wouldn't happen to be sarcasm now, would it?" She rolled her eyes. "To what do I owe the pleasure of your company, sugar?" he said, leaning against the door frame.
"I figured you could do with being up before noon," she said. "Also, do you remember Mei-Ling Zhou?"
The name didn't ring any bells. "Can't say I do," McCree said.
"She was a climatologist at the Antarctica Eco-point. She's just arrived, and apparently with some bad news, so Winston wants everyone to gather up as soon as possible to hear what happened."
McCree had all but forgotten about the Eco-points. Hadn't exactly been in his area of expertise, nor had his travels brought him close to any of them. And if they had, he probably wouldn't have known, because they'd be shut down with the rest of Overwatch. "Alright, I'll be there in a few. Doubt the big guy would like me showing up in this shirt, as much as I know you love it," he said.
"I think the lack of pants would be a more of an issue," Fareeha replied. "Get dressed." With that, she strolled away. As she passed Hanzo's door, it slid open, and the archer himself stepped out. He was pristine and immaculately put together. It was, frankly, rude for someone to look that put together at this ungodly hour.
"Let me guess," McCree drawled. "You woke up like that?"
Hanzo gave him a cold, withering glare and said nothing. He followed Fareeha down the hall and to the left. Another song reference wasted.
Ten minutes later, McCree walked into the main meeting room, properly dressed in his usual button up shirt and jeans. His hat was tilted back, and his gun was, as always, at his hip. Everyone else was already there, lounging about in one manner or another. Except Tracer, who was probably back in Britain visiting Emily. Since the recall, Tracer probably hadn't had much time with her bird. McCree had met Emily once—she had complimented his hat with words as sweet as honey, and he had darn near blushed.
In place of little Lena was a face McCree didn't know, standing at the front of the room next to Winston. A small Asian woman with a round face and sweet eyes. That had to be Mei-Ling Zhou.
"Howdy," McCree said with a tip of his hat.
"Nice of you to finally join us, McCree," Winston said with a twinge of annoyance. "This is one of Overwatch's old climatologists, Mei-Ling Zhou." He gestured to the round-faced woman, who smiled at McCree cheerily.
"It's a pleasure to meet you, Jesse McCree," she said.
"The pleasure's all mine, sweetheart. Sorry to keep y'all waiting," he replied, pulling out the only empty chair. He sat down next to Fareeha, who had Mercy on her other side. Zenyatta was floating to his left, at the head of the table but against the wall. Genji stood next to Zenyatta, most of his visor on, only leaving his eyes visible. Across from McCree was Torbjörn, then Reinhardt, and then Hanzo. McCree caught the archer's eye briefly, and then Hanzo stiffly turned away.
Maybe he had caught the reference, and had a severe dislike for Beyoncé. That would be, honestly, unforgivable. McCree wouldn't be able to work with such a man.
Or it was just him being cold-shouldered as usual. He was certainly the dark and brooding type. Like that old comic book character, Batman. McCree smiled at the thought of Hanzo leaping around in a bat costume.
"I know you're all probably wondering what Mei's news is," Winston said. "So, Mei, if you would?"
"Yes!" Mei said. She wrung her hands nervously before decisively crossing her arms. "Most of you probably didn't know me or my colleagues, since us climatologists mostly stayed at our eco-points. But, er…" She took a deep breath, as if steeling herself against what she was about to say. "Ten years ago, the Antarctica Eco-point was severely damaged in a blizzard. We were cut off from the outside world. When our supplies began to dwindle, we became desperate. So we went into cryostasis. But I'm… I'm the only one who survived."
"Oh, Mei," Mercy said, reaching out a comforting hand. Mei held her hand for a moment before letting go with a soft smile.
"The other news isn't more pleasant, I'm afraid," Mei continued. "I would've stayed in cryostasis for… for much longer, except I was woken up. Accidentally. By Talon agents."
"Talon? Why would they be in Antarctica?" Torbjörn asked.
Mei shook her head. "I don't know. All the Ecopoints have is data on the climate patterns… nothing useful to them. I only saw them as they were leaving, they didn't come anywhere near the cryopods. They opened them from the main control panel. By the time I could walk around and had noticed everyone else was… not going to wake up, they were getting on a ship."
"Tell them what you told me," Winston prompted.
"Right," Mei said. "I saw… it's hard to explain, but one of the agents—dressed in all black with this horrifying white mask on—he turned into smoke."
"What?" Fareeha said.
"I know it's hard to believe, but I know what I saw. Cryostasis has side effects, but hallucinations are not one of them," Mei said with absolute assurance.
She definitely believed what she saw. But McCree didn't know if that was enough to believe there was a man who could turn into smoke. That wasn't possible. Cryostasis wasn't supposed to kill people, either, so maybe it had been a hallucination.
Winston stepped forward. "Lena and I have also encountered this Talon agent. He came here before and tried to hack Athena, and later he and another agents, a sniper, tried to steal Doomfist's gauntlet." He pushed his glasses up and looked around the room with grave eyes. "I can't explain it, but he can turn his whole body and anything on his person into black smoke."
Three encounters with smoke man. That was much more reputable than Mei's single long-distance spotting. McCree didn't know what to make of that. No one else seemed to either, except for the two Shimadas. Hanzo's face was tight with concern, and he kept looking back to Genji, who's barely visible eyes were wide with shock. Had they, too, seen this smoke guy before?
"So, are ya sendin' us to Antarctica?" McCree said. "Are we gonna chase down this smokey fella?"
"No, we aren't sending anyone to Antarctica," Winston said. "Mei and I both agree that wouldn't be wise right now, both because Talon was recently there and because it's blizzard season."
"Shouldn't we at least try to figure out what they wanted there?" Fareeha asked. "I doubt they went all the want to Antarctica for the hell of it."
"We will," Winston said. "Mei?"
He stepped back, leaving Mei in the center front. "I already have a plan for that," she said. "I'm leaving in a week to visit the nearest Eco-point. All the Eco-points have a shared database, so hopefully from one I can find out what was taken from Antarctica. I wouldn't be of much use here, anyways."
"As for the… strange Talon agent, I imagine we'll cross paths with him again in due time," Winston said. "Speaking of which, we have a mission that needs to be done as soon as possible. Before Talon can make a move again. Fareeha, Hanzo, and McCree, you five need to stay for…" Winston paused, perhaps because McCree had let out a groan of exhaustion, and sighed. "That can wait for a little bit, I suppose. Be back here in half an hour."
McCree was up and out of the room in an instant. His stomach was growlin' up a storm, and he was in the mood for the sugariest cereal he could get his hands on. Fareeha caught up to him easily with her mile-long legs. She snatched his hat, just like she had done when she was little, except now she could reach it without having to climb over him. "Where's the fire, cowboy?" she said with a laugh, putting his hat on with a smooth spin.
"It's the fire of hunger in my stomach," McCree said. "You think we have Lucky Charms?"
"I doubt Angela would let anything more sugary than Cheerios in the base."
McCree grumbled. "I'll have to go out and get my own, then. Hide them away from the good doctor."
"You're that desperate for kids' cereal?"
"Fareeha," McCree said as they finally got to the kitchen. "Don't sass me. I remember you digging out all the marshmallows from my Lucky Charms when you were seven."
"Yes, because I was seven," Fareeha said. She pulled a pre-made salad out of the fridge and then handed McCree the milk.
A small clink of metal against the tiled floor came from the entrance, followed by softer, heavier steps of snow boots. McCree looked over his shoulder and saw Hanzo and Mei walking in. She was looking around with big eyes, as if trying to memorize the whole kitchen. Hanzo made a beeline for the bowl of fruit.
"Cereal?" McCree offered, holding out the box of Frosted Flakes to Mei.
"Oh, no, thank you," Mei said. "I don't really like cereal."
McCree shook his head. "Damn shame. You're missing out."
She giggled nervously, like she didn't know how to respond.
"Missing out on what? Rotting teeth?" Fareeha said.
"Alright, you sass me this much, you don't get to wear my hat," McCree threatened, making a lunge for his hat. Fareeha side-stepped out of the way, laughing as his momentum made him stumble. "Oh, you're askin' for it now," he growled playfully. Even after all the years, it still felt the same with her.
She danced out of his reach, holding the hat to her head with one hand and holding a fork with another. Mei was laughing now, too. "You still can't catch me, huh?" Fareeha teased.
"Excuse you, I let you escape back then," McCree said. He nearly had her when she leaped behind Mei. Fareeha was a good foot taller than the little climatologist, and she stooped to hide behind her. McCree tried to step around, but froze.
Hanzo was staring at him, with that same expression of confusion and hesitation, and something new that McCree couldn't place. For a moment McCree was frozen to the spot under those dark eyes.
"Admiring the view, sugar?" he finally said.
Hanzo looked surprised to be spoken to, but he quickly shook it off. "The view of you being outsmarted so easily is something to be admired," he said.
McCree gasped in mock offense, and Fareeha burst into full body laughter. A small smile graced Hanzo's face, and McCree couldn't help but smile back. Then—because he was a man on a mission for his hat—he reached over Mei and yanked his hat off of Fareeha.
"Sorry 'bout that, darlin'," he said to Mei. She had ducked instinctively, even though he easily reached over her. She nodded wordlessly. He wanted to say something else, maybe a condolence about what had happened to everyone at the Eco-point, but he'd never been good with sentimental stuff. So instead he stepped back to his hastily abandoned cereal. It had gone soggy.
"Could you point me to the barracks?" Mei asked Hanzo. "Winston said I could take any free room, but I don't know where anything is."
"Of course," Hanzo replied. He left the kitchen, Mei following closely behind.
Fareeha elbowed McCree. "Admiring the view? Really?"
A gust of hot, dry air hit McCree in the face. The city of Numbani sparkled under the bright early morning sun. The desert climate McCree could deal with; the blinding buildings, not so much. He tilted his hat as far down as he could and stepped off the ship with the rest of the team. The smoke of his cigar covered his face and he closed his eyes against it.
Fareeha—or Pharah, as she was to be called on the field—was in a brand spankin' new Raptora Flight Suit that sparkled as much as the city. In a way, it matched Mercy's Valkyrie suit. But unlike Mercy, who looked serene and, well, merciful, Fareeha looked powerful, self-assured. McCree couldn't help but remember how much her mother had wanted Fareeha to stay away from this line of work.
As if there were any chance in hell that would happen.
"Everyone remembers the plan?" Winston said from the ship.
"Yes, yes," Pharah said impatiently.
Hanzo nodded curtly. Just as McCree had seen Hanzo dressed in Japan, his left sleeve was off, tucked into his belt. The dragon tattoo looked extra blue against the dry landscape.
"Alright, we'll be at the pick up location in 2 hours. Good luck," Winston said. He and Mercy gave them a wave as the hanger door closed, and the ship rose into the air with a puff of dust.
"You still smoke that stuff?" Pharah said.
"Oh, don't go Mercy on me," he said. "Let me have this until we reach the city, alright?"
She sighed.
They were on the edge of the city, just far enough away that their arrival wouldn't be noticed. It would be at least a mile walk into the city proper, and than they had to get to the museum where the Doomfist gauntlet was being held. That was where Pharah came in—she still had connections from her Security Guard days, and she knew some of the guards at the Numbani Overwatch Museum. They knew the newly reformed Overwatch was coming to collect the gauntlet, and had given their word to not let it slip that Overwatch was back. McCree found it a little hard to believe that they would keep such a secret, when the museum was funded by the U.N., but Pharah swore these people were trustworthy.
They walked along the beaten trail next to the highway. It was nearly deserted, only the occasional truck driving by. Unlike New York, this city apparently did sleep, and like anyone sensible, they were asleep at 6 AM.
By the time they got into Numbani, McCree's cigar was spent andthe sun had fully risen above the horizon stirring the city into the morning rush. McCree, Hanzo, and Pharah would've made an odd sight most places, but in a city where omnics were as common as the humans, no one looked twice. Still, they kept to the alleys and the shadows.
The museum had giant banners hanging from its awning, advertising an upcoming exhibit on the affect of the Omnic War in Australia. McCree grimaced internally; Blackwatch had been deployed there once, and McCree still starkly remembered the barren, radiation-bathed outback. He'd only seen it from the air, but the feeling of death had still reached him.
"There's Gray," Pharah said, nodding towards a security guard. At the same time, he noticed her and raised a hand in subtle greeting. She smiled and sped up her pace.
"Amari!" the guard said. "Nice new suit. Right on time, as always."
"Of course," Pharah replied. "Thank you for keeping this under wraps."
He nodded. "If what you told us about Talon is true, than the gauntlet is safer with Overwatch than us, however small you might be. Follow me."
Gray lead them down the alleyway next to the museum and through a triple-locked door. Pharah walked side by side with him, McCree only a step behind. They were in the back rooms of the museum, and their footsteps were the only noise. There was no need to be quiet, but McCree felt like an elephant in a room of glass. He put all his focus into stepping in just the right way so his spurs wouldn't clink. Hanzo moved like a ghost—silent, weightless, and smooth.
"We pulled it off display a few days ago under the guise of annual repairs," Gray explained. "We already boxed it up in a locked lead case. Nothing will be able to detect it."
He pressed his hand against a softly glowing panel, and a door McCree hadn't noticed slid open. Gray slipped in, and came back out carrying a large metal box that was remarkably not inconspicuous. He handed it to Pharah, who took it like it weighed no more than a feather.
"That ain't exactly the most normal looking thing to carry around," McCree pointed out.
"I'll be taking a car with Gray," Pharah said. "McCree, did you not listen to Winston? Really? He said this a dozen times."
She gave him a look that made her look the spitting image of her mother. That same expression had often been turned on McCree when he'd done something particularly stupid, and seeing it on little Fareeha's face was bizarre.
He shrugged. "Was just pointing it out, darlin'. Besides, ya still gotta walk to the car."
He really had listened to Winston—as much as he sometimes came off as overly laissez-faire, he did take their operations seriously. But his scattered thoughts he couldn't help so much, and details always managed to escape him until they were brought back up. Memory works in strange, and inconvenient, ways, McCree found.
They left the museum the same way they came in, Gray in the lead and immediately climbing into a discreet, black vehicle. Pharah opened the door and
"Gotchya."
Out of thin air, a girl in all purple appeared. She pointed a gun straight at Pharah's head, and Pharah barely had time to duck out of the way before she fired. She squatted and then blasted into the sky like a rocket, bright flames expelling from the wing-like protrusions of her suit.
"Gray! GO!" she shouted. Gray slammed the gas pedal, door still open, and sped away. Hopefully to get Winston.
The girl in purple smirked. "Don't think so, amiga," she said, and tossed what looked like one of Tracer's bombs up at Pharah.
"No!" McCree yelled. He aimed to shoot it, to blow it up before it reached Fareeha, but an arrow hit it and sent it sideways. Hanzo.
The purple girl growled in frustration and leaped at Hanzo, gun blazing. The arrow and the strange bomb-like thing clattered to the ground, nothing blowing up. Surprised, McCree's grip on Peacekeeper loosened a fraction.
The cold metal of a gun barrel pressed against his head. "You always were easily distracted."
