The bakery's door chimed when he opened it, the delicious scents of fresh breads and pastries drawing Jesse into the shop like a siren's call. The shopkeeper greeted him with a smile, which he could only return dopily as his eyes wandered over all the baked goods on display. If he could, he'd order one of everything, but his wallet was feeling light and he was supposed to get something for everyone back at the room. Pre-op snacks were essential, after all. Talon was making their move tonight and they needed to be prepared.
Well, as prepared as they could be. Lena was still recovering from one of the worst sunburns Jesse'd ever seen. She was lucky it hadn't developed into sun poisoning, but she was still in quite a bit of pain- couldn't even keep watch for the first few days, moving hurt her so bad. She was past that now, happily pulling double shifts to make up for the ones she missed, but there was no way she could be involved in any considerable physical activity. So they put her in charge of comm relay for the evening, to her everlasting disappointment. He'd get her something chewy and delicious to make up for it.
He knew what to get for Lúcio, too. Sunshine liked spicy foods for every meal, snack, and dessert, so when Jesse had introduced him to Mexican candy it was an instant hit. It seemed Lúcio always had a spice-covered lollipop in his mouth or on its way to it. Even during the mission huddle earlier that day, he had a batch on hand. During the huddle, they decided Sunshine would be in reserve for tonight's fight- he simply wasn't trained for it and if he got involved in a confrontation, his fame would only work against him.
For himself? Well, the pastries drew his eye, but what Jesse really craved was action. He preferred working on an empty stomach. As tantalizing as sweets were, the bakery would still be here after the mission. That only left Hanzo and, luckily, he had a good idea of what to get him.
Now, Jesse wasn't a culinary expert on Japanese foods, but you learn a thing or two when your best friend's a native. He knew bitter foods had a reputation as a flavor for sophisticated and mature pallets, so he figured that would be Hanzo's preferred taste. But when he bought matcha-flavored cake yesterday, Hanzo barely managed a few bites before he abandoned it entirely. The same could not be said for the pan dulce Jesse had bought for himself; A whole weekend's worth of dessert gone in under an hour. That's how he discovered the taciturn, grumpy logistician had a sweet tooth a mile wide.
The irony was beautiful and Jesse would absolutely be holding it over Hanzo's head for the rest of eternity.
Fortunately, this bakery had everything he could possibly need for the team. They even had three different flavors of Mexican lollipops for Sunshine! The shopkeep was bagging it all up when Jesse heard the bell chime again, the scent of carbon almost overpowering. He glanced behind him to see a young girl, maybe eleven or so, sprinting straight into the shopkeep's legs. The shopkeep stumbled back in surprise and smiled apologetically at Jesse, who returned the expression blankly.
Why would a child smell of carbon and looked all roughed up like that?
⟪Mamá, Mamá, you would never believe what happened, I-⟫
But her mother waved her off. ⟪Alejandra, I have a customer, let me finish with him and then-⟫
⟪But Mamá, it was Soldier: 76! He's real! And he saved me!⟫
The woman looked up sharply at Jesse, who continued smiling blandly, pretending he didn't know a lick of Spanish. She turned back to her daughter.
⟪Saved you? Saved you from what?⟫
⟪Oh, uh, nothing serious,⟫ Alejandra said guiltily.
⟪Alejandra María Lenora López de-⟫
⟪Okay, okay! It was Los Muertos! I was going to the supermarket like you asked, but they stopped me and tried making me hit an omnic, but I ran away into the back alleys to lose them-⟫
⟪Shh!⟫ From his peripheral, he could see the shopkeeper eyeing him again. Good thing he was looking through her custom order book as though he wasn't intensely interested in their conversation. The shopkeep lowered her voice. ⟪Running into dark alleys to lose a gang? What were you thinking? We'll talk about this later. Go in the back room, I'll be there as soon as I'm finished with the customer.⟫
Alejandra groaned but complied.
"Sorry about that, señor," The shopkeeper said with a dazzling smile. "Children can be so excitable. Will this be all for you today?"
"Yes, ma'am, thank you very much." Jesse paid for the desserts, as eager to leave as the shopkeeper was to see him go.
As he walked out the door, Jesse looked up the nearest supermarkets and began walking for the closest one, eyes sharp for signs of fighting. He barely had the chance to turn a corner before he found his first obvious hint- an ambulance in a crowded plaza. Though it must not be an emergency, since the lights weren't flashing. More likely an overheated tourist or-
⟪...killed him, right in the middle of the plaza.⟫
-Or someone already dead. Jesse perked up, angling his head to hear out his better ear.
⟪...can't really kill an omnic… agree, though, shame and… violence needs to stop. Bad for business.⟫
There were similar whispers all throughout the crowd of locals, "Los Muertos" and "Soldado: 76" repeated in the hushed tones of wariness, suspicion, and fear. Seemed he was on the right track.
Jesse looked around the plaza, trying to visualize where little Alejandra's journey might have taken her. She would have come from the bakery just like he had, going through the plaza at a northwest angle to get to the supermercado. If the ambulance wasn't far from where the assault took place, then he could use his current position to see what "dark alleys" Alejandra might have tried to escape through. Conveniently enough, the obvious candidate was directly to his left. All the other alleys were vibrant with festive decorations, except this one that led to loading docks on the backside of a restaurant.
He casually wandered into the alley, shifting the paper bag of desserts from one arm to the other. No one tried to stop or follow him, which he decided was a good thing. Neon graffiti painted the walls, Los Muertos tags obvious to even the untrained eye. Jesse knew Los Muertos was essentially unchecked in this region, but he still found it impressive that they were so blasé about it. Course, Blackwatch hadn't been any better. They just didn't have any nice places to deface. That and they weren't nowhere near as artistic.
Halfway down the alley, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end and he knew he was being followed. He turned and paused.
"Can I help you?" He called out, sticking to English. Los Muertos hadn't bothered him the last time he pretended to be a tourist. It might work this time, too. Although… Last time he wasn't ass deep in their territory.
He waited a while longer and when no one responded or made a move, he continued on.
The apprehensive feeling didn't fade.
The alley was long and winding and he hadn't seen any signs of combat since the plaza. Shifting the bag of desserts in his arms again, Jesse scanned his surroundings. Someone was close. And it wasn't Los Muertos.
⟪Stop.⟫
Jesse froze, looking for the source of the low, gravelly voice.
⟪Put the bag down.⟫
Slowly, Jesse began to turn around.
⟪Stay facing forward. Let's not involve unnecessary head trauma.⟫
⟪I'd say that sounds like a fine idea,⟫ Jesse agreed, slowly bending down and placing the desserts at his feet.
⟪Put your hands in the air.⟫
Jesse complied.
A man emerged from the shadows of a building and Jesse mentally kicked himself for not noticing the small alcove sooner. The guy was tall- as tall as Jesse, so definitely not of local stock. His face was obscured by a red visor layered over a metallic half-mask, only a pale, scarred forehead and a short-cropped white hair were really visible. He was dressed head to toe in tactical gear, bandoliers strapped over his leather jacket, gloved hands holding an absolutely massive rifle- the kind of rifle Jesse'd only seen mounted on armored vehicles.
⟪Soldier: 76, I presume?⟫
⟪Who's asking?⟫
⟪Anyone with eyes, I'd imagine,⟫ Jesse said drily. ⟪Not too many Mexicans would run around in a red-white-and-blue leather jacket like an off-brand Captain America. You're an urban legend to the locals.⟫
Soldier grunted. ⟪I'd prefer it to stay that way and you to stay out of my way.⟫
Well that's cute. ⟪I don't even know which way you're goin', old man, how am I supposed to stay out of your way?⟫
⟪This isn't your town.⟫ Soldier said forcefully. ⟪It isn't Los Muertos', either. Stop sticking your nose in places it doesn't belong.⟫
⟪Look who's talkin'.⟫ Jesse experimentally lowered his arms, but lifted them higher when Soldier flipped off the safety of his rifle. ⟪You been elected leader of the city or you just terrorizin' it?⟫
⟪Just passing through.⟫
⟪What d'you know, me too.⟫
⟪You've been here for a week.⟫
Shit, if Soldier's been watching them, what about Talon? Except they probably weren't on ground yet. But Los Muertos would pass on intel, wouldn't they?
He cleared his throat. ⟪And after tonight, I expect we won't be here for another few days. We'll be out of your hair soon enough. Or what's left of it.⟫
⟪After tonight?⟫
⟪Yup.⟫
The silence dragged on, but Jesse refused to say anything more. Turns out, he didn't need to.
⟪...The exchange,⟫ Soldier said.
Jesse shrugged, though it probably didn't seem nearly relaxed as usual with his damn hands in the air. ⟪I'm not here for no drug deals, if that's what you're drivin' at.⟫
⟪No, I've been watching you. You found Los Muertos, but didn't pursue. They're just a pawn to you.⟫ Another pause while Soldier worked it out. ⟪You're after Talon. Why?⟫
⟪You know about Talon?⟫
That called for a rapid recalculation of the situation. Los Muertos feared Soldier, Soldier said they didn't own the city, logical conclusion is that Soldier and Los Muertos were enemies. Talon was working a deal with Los Muertos, so they were at least allies of convenience. Overwatch was against Talon and by extension Los Muertos, so them and Soldier…?
⟪Answer the question,⟫ Soldier growled.
⟪Yes,⟫ Jesse said. ⟪We're after Talon. They're huntin' Overwatch agents, tryin' to start another Crisis, all sorts of bad shit. Who wouldn't wanna stop them?⟫
⟪Everyone in their pocket.⟫
⟪Well, you're a ray of sunshine, ain't ya?⟫
Soldier grunted.
Jesse rolled his shoulders, discomfort from holding them aloft settling in. He eyed Soldier's rifle. Well. Ain't been shot yet, so maybe he had a chance. ⟪Say, we're goin' after Talon, you're goin' after Talon, why don't we team up for it?⟫
He could hear the skepticism in Soldier's voice. ⟪Having the same enemy isn't the same as sharing a goal.⟫
⟪Yeah? Well, our goal is to find out why Talon needs this weapon shipment and put a stop to it. How's that sound to you?⟫
⟪Why should I trust you?⟫ Soldier asked, still keeping his rifle's muzzle pointed at Jesse. ⟪We could take out Talon and then you could hand me over to the authorities.⟫
Jesse laughed. ⟪Ha! In this town? We'd just be handin' you over to Los Muertos and they'd just as soon take us with you.⟫
⟪Well, at least I know you're not stupid.⟫
⟪Look at that,⟫ Jesse drawled. ⟪We're practically friends! Now why don't you point that gun somewhere that ain't at me?⟫
Slowly, Soldier lowered the gun. Jesse dropped his arms in relief. The blood rushed back to his hands with an unpleasant tingle.
⟪There, that wasn't too hard, was it? So how do you wanna do this? I've still got a bag of goodies,⟫ Jesse picked up the decidedly cooler bag of desserts, ⟪and a stake-out room full of hungry agents. You wanna come with me to the team? We can go over the plan together.⟫
Soldier shook his head. ⟪I call the shots.⟫
Jesse rolled his eyes. ⟪Yeah, whatever, big guy. Why don't you come tell us what your shots are?⟫
⟪No.⟫ Soldier pointed at him, rather rudely if he might add. ⟪Here's what's going to happen. You and only you will show up at Aviendo Hidalgo at 2300. You will be armed and prepared for a fight. I'll provide further directions at the rendezvous.⟫
Jesus, what an egotistical asshole. Maybe Winston was on to something and he was related to Morrison. ⟪Well, gee, when you put it like that, who wouldn't jump at the chance to work with such a swell guy?⟫
⟪Will you be there or not?⟫ And Jesse felt a petty satisfaction, hearing Soldier's annoyed tone.
⟪Fuck if I know, Chuckles, I have a team to work with. Maybe I'll be there, maybe I won't. Maybe I'll take a shot at you if I see you at the exchange. Who fuckin' knows?⟫
⟪Punk.⟫
⟪Prick.⟫
Soldier nodded. ⟪Look forward to working with you.⟫
What a jackass.
With that, Soldier turned on his heel and walked away. Jesse was surprised to see the back of his jacket scorched and partially melted. Soldier even limped slightly as he melted into the shadows. He must have directly confronted Los Muertos when he rescued Alejandra… and she wasn't marked at all. And the smell of carbon that hung on her... Did he shield her from enemy fire?
Hm. Alright. Maybe he was a decent guy. Still an asshole.
/
Hanzo leaned over the maps they had spread over the ensuite desk, studying every possible angle, memorizing all the potential avenues of approach. Tonight would potentially be their first real confrontation with Talon and their plan of action relied on a significant number of assumptions.
They assumed that Talon wouldn't be there in force. They assumed Talon was only looking to make a quick exchange. They assumed their operations hadn't already been exposed- that this wasn't a trap. He didn't like it. With Oxton not available as a combat force, only himself and McCree would be on the ground in the event that a conflict arose. It was far too few.
"Evenin' everyone!" McCree practically shouted when he entered the room, kicking the door shut behind him. "Who wants food?"
"Me!" Oxton shouted, Blinking to his side instead of walking.
McCree chuckled and handed her a smaller bag from within the large one he carried. "One for you. One for Lúcio!" He tossed a clear plastic bag full of those atrocious lollipops to their medic. "And one for Hanzo." Thankfully, McCree simply passed Hanzo's share, instead of throwing it through the air.
"Thank you," Hanzo said distractedly, setting the bag aside for now. "We are pressed for time. We can eat as we talk."
"You don't wanna talk about why we're pressed for time?" McCree asked, sounding strangely smug.
"I believe we have the evidence." Hanzo nodded at all the baked goods. "I have no interest in wasting time further discussing it."
"The bakery wasn't even five minutes away." McCree dropped onto one of the beds, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "I picked up a lead."
Hanzo suppressed a flash of irritation, instead leaning back in his chair and giving McCree his polite interest. So far McCree's information gathering had proven useful. It was time to give him the… benefit of the doubt. Trust in his abilities.
"There was a murder near the bakery, of an omnic," McCree explained. "All the signs of your typical Los Muertos hit, except for the mess they left behind. They'd left in a hurry and so I followed their trail- and guess who I found?"
"Their hideout?" Santos asked.
"Their boss?" Oxton guessed.
"The Soldier," Hanzo realized after running through a mental list.
"You found him?" Santos asked, surprised.
"That's right," McCree said, puffing out his chest. "Soldado: 76 himself. Got myself a whole chat with him- and he's helpin' us out tonight."
"Wow," Oxton breathed. "What was he like?"
"Typical mercenary asshole."
"Aw," She took another bite of her dessert to soften her apparent disappointment.
Hanzo spoke before they could prevaricate further. "Can I ask what the terms of this alliance are?"
"Well," Jesse drawled. "Turns out he's after Talon just like we are. Our goals are the same, so we'll work together to stop the exchange and then go our separate ways from there."
"Stop?" Hanzo repeated incredulously. "We barely have sufficient assets to observe the exchange."
"Well, situationally dependent. I figure if we can stop it, we should, yeah?"
It was incredibly unlikely they'd possess the capability that night, so it was not worth arguing further. The alliance, however… "And this Soldier is willing to accept our decision on whether or not to engage the situation?"
Jesse shrugged. "Eh, probably not." Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose. "But he's known locally. If he pulls some stupid shit, we can just duck out and let him take the fall for his own mistakes."
"That doesn't sound right," Santos said past a mouthful of candy.
"A rather mercenary alliance," Hanzo agreed.
McCree moved from the bed to the table with Hanzo. "Befits our mercenary lives, I figure."
So be it. He turned on his tablet. "Then let us review our plan."
McCree eyed him suspiciously. "You're not gonna complain about every which way I did that?"
"Still pressed for time, McCree," Hanzo reminded him.
"Alright, alright."
He maximized the satellite image on his tablet. "There are four of us and we already planned on having each of us facing one side of the ziggurat." Four red dots on each side of the building represented the team. "Once we obtain positive visual identification of the exchange, all members will converge on that side."
"Including me?" Oxton asked.
"No, you will remain here at the hotel." He pointed at the dot furthest away from the pyramid. "Facing the southern side and acting as comm relay."
"Piss."
"Sorry, sugar," McCree consoled her. "But if you wanted to have an active role, you shouldn't have gotten yourself burnt up."
"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "I'll be good."
"I had planned to put myself on the west side, at the loading docks where the exchange is most likely to occur, with McCree on the north and Santos on the east. Now that we have Soldier, we can adjust." He added another dot, this time blue, on the west side of the building.
Santos perked up, speaking around another lollipop. "Putting me on the east side will mean I am the furthest away from the action. What if someone gets hurt?"
Hanzo nodded. "Yes, you will be furthest away. You are not trained for combat. Having you too close risks injury to you. We have no secondary medic. Should we need medical assistance, we must have it appear as though you just happened to be in the area. You are too well known to be seen engaging directly and even if we could disguise you, your hardware is far too recognizable."
"Well… it makes sense." Santos gnawed on his candy.
McCree patted Santos' shoulder. "That's just how it is with mission constraints, Sunshine." He addressed Hanzo next. "Want to put me and Soldier on the west side? He was adamant about only workin' with me. You know the type."
"I usually am the type," Hanzo said dryly. Perhaps not unexpectedly, McCree laughed. "But, yes, I feel that arrangement would be best. There are several perches that allow me moderate visuals for both the west and north side. Unfortunately, it will take time to relocate into a position for direct sights on the docks. Possibly up to ten minutes."
"Hm." McCree stared intently at the tablet. "Ten minutes is a long time when bullets are flyin'."
"Which is why it will be imperative to alert me immediately upon confirming Talon presence," Hanzo said. "And only engage if we are at a distinct advantage. This is primarily an information gathering operation. We need to discover the nature of the arms, their intended use, and why Talon would need Los Muertos to provide them."
"Cause they're shady?" Oxton asked.
"Talon is well-funded enough to acquire arms from legitimate sources," he pointed out. "They do not need Los Muertos. And what would Los Muertos gain in associating with such a high-profile international organization? Their interests have never looked outside the city of Dorado."
"So whatever we find is going to have significant repercussions?" Santos asked.
"Most likely," Hanzo agreed.
"Well. Let's gear up then," McCree said with a wolfish grin. "Don't wanna miss the gift exchange."
/
Jesse crouched next to Soldier as they watched the loading docks behind LumériCo.
"You haven't asked me my name." Soldier said. They dropped Spanish when Soldier absolutely butchered the pronunciation for three different words in one go. It was honestly painful to hear.
Jesse chewed on his cigar stub, unlit of course. "Figured you would tell me if you didn't like bein' called Soldier."
Soldier grunted.
"You ain't asked my name, either," he pointed out.
"Jesse McCree. Wanted: dead or alive. 60 million bounty. Crimes include: murder, desertion, sedition, espionage. I know who you are."
He posted up on his elbows, taking his eyes off docks to stare at Soldier, who stared straight ahead."You know, summarizin' the worst bits of someone's life like a grocery list ain't exactly endearin."
"Noted."
Jesse opened his mouth to retort, but a silhouette in the distance caught his eye. "Movement, two o'clock."
They both stilled and watched. It was only a security guard on his rounds, and they both relaxed when nothing else changed for five minutes.
"If you already knew who I was," Jesse said, "Why didn't you shoot me on sight? You wouldn't be the first."
Soldier grunted again. "Files all say you travel alone, in the US or near the border, never in cities. You're here, as far south in Mexico as you can get, with a team, in a city. Something was up."
"Well it might not've been anything good, for all you knew."
"Different's never good," Soldier countered.
"Spoken like a true geezer."
No response.
Jesse turned to him and squinted in the darkness. "So what's your story, anyhow? How'd you end up in Dorado?"
"Same as you. Tracking Talon."
"Actually," he said in an overly cheerful tone. "We ended up here 'cause I wanted a vacation and my boss has a strange fascination with you. Happy coincidence that Talon is cultivatin' a conspiracy with the local gang."
If the creases in Soldier's forehead were anything to go by, this news was not pleasantly received. Like Jesse gave a shit. Really, it was just incentive to fuck with him more.
"Don't worry," he goaded, looking back out at Lumerico. "Guy's a bit of an oddball but he's got a heart of gold. I think it's just a bit of hero worship and mistaken identity. You probably won't wake up with your organs harvested for study."
"Mistaken for who?"
Jesse paused. "Your apprehensive tone tells me you already know, friend."
"Yeah," Soldier said resignedly. "I get it a lot."
"You do have his height, his build, his shitty attitude. They never found his body, but we all assumed it just got incinerated in the blast."
"Sounds like you think he could still be alive."
Jesse shrugged. "Stranger things have happened."
"And you think I'm just like him."
"Long lost cousin, maybe?"
"But not him." Soldier half-said, tone part-way between statement and question.
"Nah. If you were Jack Morrison, you'd have definitely shot me on sight."
"You knew the Strike-Commander personally?" Soldier asked, clearly surprised.
Jesse shrugged. "I had personally worked with him, if that's what you mean. He's the one who put this bounty on my head, you know. Though it was only a mil at the time…"
"What was he like?"
"Total jackass."
"Hm. Most people say different."
"Most people didn't have to work with him!" Jesse burst out. "They only saw him on posters or on the holoscreen, dolled up ten ways to Sunday with a pastor's smile and snakeoil words. He was a ruthless, mean sumbitch. Victory at any cost type, lives were nothin' but numbers. Once sacrificed a squad of his own soldiers for a political power play."
"I'm sure-" Soldier began uncomfortably.
"I think," Jesse cut him off, willing the red in his vision to recede. "If we wanna continue bein' on good terms while we wait to kill even meaner sumbitches, we should stop talkin' about Jack fuckin' Morrison. May he rest in pieces."
They lapsed into silence as Jesse fumed internally. It was his own fault. He always got worked into a state when Morrison came up- and he was damn justified to do so! He couldn't even attend Reyes' fucking funeral because of the bullshit bounty that bastard put on his head. He had to watch them lower the casket from thousands of miles away, crying into bottles at a backwater bar.
Soldier shifted beside him. "Talon's here."
On edge, Jesse scanned the loading docks again. Not much had changed, except the group of nondescript workers smoking on the docks. Nothing about them screamed Talon, though.
"How do you know?"
"Watch that shadow behind the big guy."
Jesse did, noting how the shadow moved in time with the man casting it. As shadows do.
"I don't see-"
Then it happened. The shadow… detached itself from the rest of the inky darkness, crawling along the wall behind one of the parked trucks. Once there, it swirled, and condensed until a figure materialized out of the dark.
"...What the fuck."
"Reaper," Soldier growled.
"What the fuck was that?" Jesse demanded.
"The shadow thing? Not sure. My guess is nanites."
Jesse watched, vaguely nauseated, as the creature hovered at the fringes of shadows. "You're tellin' me that… thing is a nanite colony?"
Soldier shrugged, seemingly unconcerned. If that was a cloud of improbably small nano-robots working as a single unit, how would you even put it offline? The nanites could just reform around injuries.
"Can you even kill it?" Maybe if you shot it in the head, enough of the critical-function nanites would be destroyed that you could buy yourself time to escape. Maybe.
"Haven't managed it so far."
Jesse balked. "You've fought it?!"
"Couple of times. Seems to have a thing against Morrison, too."
"Not even Morrison deserved-" Jesse cut himself off, considering the Reaper's lurching movements. "No, actually, this would have been a great way for him to die. Totally deserved." He watched the creature walk, looking deceptively human in its mannerisms. "If that's Talon, where's the exchange?"
"Workers moving."
Sure enough, the group that had been smoking leapt to attention when they took notice of the abomination approaching them, one even running off down an alleyway. Likely a runner to tell Los Muertos the deal was on.
Jesse clicked his comm. "We've got movement. One Talon agent present, five workers, one ran off. Think he's gettin' Los Muertos, over."
"Good copy," Lena said. "I'll relay to Storm and Sunshine, over."
"Roger."
He watched as one member of the group stepped forward and offered a hand to Reaper, who ignored it.
His comm beeped and Lena spoke. "Storm and Sunshine are informed. Storm is moving into position, over."
"Understood. Movin' up and goin' dark, Tombstone out." Jesse turned to Soldier. "Ready?"
Soldier hefted up his plasma rifle and nodded.
"Alright. We're not to engage until after the exchange," Jesse reminded him.
Soldier snorted. "I'm a little old to be prematurely firing. Worry about yourself."
"Rude. I'll have you know I've got perfect timing."
Soldier declined to respond. They crept down from their scouting position to the bottom of the hill, hiding behind the fleet of work vehicles, no more than 200 meters from where Reaper loomed over the distinctly anxious workers. Jesse strained to hear what they were saying.
⟪...almost here… received your… no issue?⟫
Reaper's voice was too low to make anything out, but Jesse could see the workers shift uncomfortably.
⟪Shadow… causing problems…⟫
Jesse perked up. He didn't believe in coincidences, especially since Sombra came up in too many conversations they had no right to be in. If Los Muertos was talking to Talon about Sombra's involvement, then… well, he didn't know what that meant. But it meant something.
The crunch of tires on loose gravel signaled the arrival of the rest of Los Muertos. A pickup truck drove through the lone gate, painted in toxic colors and laden with gang members hanging off every side. There was a giant piñata in the bed, designed to look like one of the war omnics of the Crisis. It didn't take a large leap of logic to know there was something a little more explosive than pop rocks under the paper mache.
Where the workers and Reaper had been mostly silent, Los Muertos was practically screaming- whooping and hollering to the moonless sky above.
"This is too many," Soldier grumbled.
"What," Jesse whispered back. "You really thought the two of us could take on a gang?"
"Gang's not the problem. Reaper is."
Reaper turned to face the truck, and Jesse got his first real look at it. A bone-white mask contrasted sharply against a dark black hood, no sign of a face- if a mass of nano-bots could even bother to form a face. The mask mimicked some sort of animal skull, though Jesse couldn't rightly say what kind. From its sharp angles, he'd guess a bird or some creepy hornless cow. And while Jesse couldn't see any weapons from this angle, Reaper's black leather duster could easily hide them from sight.
In a phrase, it was spooky as shit.
⟪Quiet down!⟫ The lead worker shouted.
⟪Why?⟫ The driver yelled back. ⟪We run this town. Nobody gonna stop us.⟫
⟪Like none of you stopped Soldier?⟫ Belatedly, the worker seemed to realize that it might not be the best idea to advertise your weakness to a business partner and her face blanched even as she shot an anxious grin at Reaper, who crossed his arms menacingly. ⟪Just… just load it into the truck.⟫
⟪You got it!⟫
Jesse waited for them to move to one of the many unmarked trucks already parked at the docks. They didn't. His heart froze in his chest as five Los Muertos grunts jumped down from their pickup and made their way towards the truck shielding him and Soldier.
"Shit, shit, shit, move!"
"Better idea," Soldier said, breaking free of Jesse's grasp. To Jesse's absolute horror, Soldier stepped out from their hiding place. In the light of the ziggurat, before Los Muertos and God and everybody, he opened his mouth and said: "Lights out."
A rocket shot out from his rifle, hitting a transformer box dead center, exploding in a shower of sparks and temporarily blinding Jesse and everyone else who didn't have time to close their eyes. Still blind, Jesse scrambled away from the truck and away from the action, scrabbling at his comm as the sound of rifle fire filled the night.
"This is Tombstone, we have contact! Soldier initiated, the crazy fuckin'-"
"This is Storm, I'm almost in position. What happened to the lights?"
"Fuckin' hit a transformer, must've fucked up the whole grid." Jesse peeked around another truck, not that it was much use. Only light was what came from the glowing paint on the pickup and the gang members. "I can't see a god damn thing but Los Muertos paint. It glows so-"
"So that they are never without light," Hanzo finished. "Good philosophy. Poor tactical sense."
There was a brief pause on Hanzo's end, then two gang members a few meters away from Jesse collapsed soundlessly, even though there was a wall between them and the main fight, which meant- "Did you just fuckin' kill 'em with arrows?"
"Yes," Hanzo said- and there was definitely pride in his voice.
"Wait- did you know I was here?!"
"Focus. Did we accomplish our goals?"
Jesse sucked in a breath, staring at the chaos before him. "Well, leavin' peacefully is out, obviously."
"Of course. Did we find out what the weapons are?"
"They only had one load, I don't know what was in it or if there were more."
"Can you find out?"
Jesse peeked out from behind the truck again. His eyes had finally adjusted to the dark, and he could see that the fight seemed to be going in Soldier's favor, with a dozen Los Muertos already downed. No sight of the workers. No sight of Reaper. The pickup truck was almost 200 meters away from him, which wouldn't be far if there wasn't a fucking fire fight happening right next to it.
"Sure, it'd be a walk in the park."
"I will cover you."
"How can you do that when it's pitch black?"
"Do not worry, I will only shoot that which glows."
"That is not comforting," he grumbled, mentally bracing himself for the mad dash.
He darted across the parking lot, occasionally diving or sliding to the next piece of cover, desperately avoiding the deathly rave of neon skeletons. The scream of rifle fire was constant, the literal screams of people a little more intermittent.
He threw himself against a truck tire, peeking out from behind once he caught his breath. There was a final forty meter sprint to the weapons.
No cover.
He'd have to do this in one go. Six seconds.
Jesse took a deep breath and ran.