Hanzo frowned at the noise in the roof of his ship. They had only recently left the ground, what could possibly have latched onto them already? Something that, he was sure, would soon be dead.

He raised the Storm Bow and drew back an arrow, feeling his arm tense with the effort. It was a powerful bow, meant for powerful men. Like himself. He heard it again, that clamouring noise in the roof, and he fired. No point taking prisoners. Anyone who had something to hide in the ventilation shafts was no ally.

A scream cried out. The arrow had punctured the roof, but nothing could be seen through the tiny, shaft-sized hole; at least not until a line of blood came dribbling down a moment later. So, it was a person after all. That was a good sign. It would have been worse if it was a robot, an Omnic. There was nothing Hanzo Shimada hated more than those electronic bastards.

He drew back another arrow, but it was not a normal one. This was a sonic arrow, an ingenious invention of his father's scientific staff which not only hurt enemies, but also sent out a short-duration sonic pulse. For a few seconds after the pulse was launched Hanzo could, through his biotic implant, spot enemies. He fired.

Again, the arrow caused someone – or something – to cry out in pain. Again a spool of blood unravelled from the roof and slithered toward the ground. But this time he was gifted with vision. Irreplaceable vision.

The image above, crawling through the shafts, was that of a man. What type of man it was impossible to say so far, except that he was in fairly good health despite the two arrow wounds he had now sustained. Hanzo walked along, in no great rush, following the line of blood and muttering that now fell from above. There were dents in the shafts. Someone was up there, and they had stopped trying to subtle. They were crawling away as if their life depended on it. Which, Hanzo could not help but admit, it did.

He fired a third time and it was the last. Third time lucky, he realised, had paid off. The figure above flailed in pain, broke through the shaft he was crawling through, and the entire structure collapsed through the plaster roof to the floor. Dust and wiring and piping and metallic tubes crashed to the floor, along with a man. A man that looked like a warrior. A man that looked like a Sherriff, or some law enforcement official for a small shanty town, complete with broad cowboy hat and badge, and a red sand-towel draped over his shoulders.

'Who are you?' Hanzo demanded, drawing a fourth arrow and pointing it at the intruder's chest. 'And what in the Dragon's name are you doing here?'

The man on the floor scowled, arrows peppering him like poorly placed acupuncture sticks. He had to use his elbows to crawl; a poor parody of a wounded man desperate to live. He would not get far.

'What is your name?' Hanzo repeated, slamming a heavily armoured foot down on the intruder's leg.

'Ahh!' He cried. 'My name is McCree! McCree, damnit! I'm a gunslinger, I live on the road and I die on the road.'

'You die wherever the fuck I tell you to die.' Hanzo snarled. He knew he was in the position of power here, and he wanted the man beneath his gaze to know it as well.

McCree turned, agonisingly slowly, and tossed away an old six-shooter. It looked more ancient even than Hanzo's bow and arrow. Had this man lived under a rock since laser weapons and hover cars were made commonplace?

'Look, that's my only weapon! Don't shoot, damn you, don't shoot me again!'

Hanzo nodded slowly, lowered his bow and placed the arrow back in his quiver. 'Very well, McCree, but you owe me one hell of a story before we get to Japan.'

McCree went pale. 'Japan?'

This McCree fellow, this outlaw, did not strike Hanzo as the type to easily succumb to pain or violence. And yet here he was, mellow and submissive, waiting for Hanzo's next movement or word. Clearly he thought that this was a much better place to be than wherever he had been.

'So, let me get this straight.' Hanzo said, sometime after McCree had finished speaking, and both were settled on a lounger with Hanzo's soldiers watching over. 'Your friend tried to kill you.'

'Tried his damn best.' McCree growled, his voice much more even and aggressive than it had been. Though still injured, Hanzo's medics had relieved the pain as much as they could, and McCree looked the better for it.

'Please, elaborate.'

'He fired a bunch of grenades into my room. What more information do you need?'

'Well, tell me this, how did you escape?'

McCree sighed. 'There are vents in every room. Not big enough for me to crawl through but, if I lifted the bed up, which I did, they were big enough to hide me while the room burned. Took over an hour, but eventually I was able to crawl back out.'

'It sounds like a dubious story. I struggle to believe that no one checked behind the bed, especially if it was angled against a wall.'

'Believe what you want.' McCree shrugged. 'Remember there was a small army of your troops attacking the base. Not many people were paying attention to my room, and those that were had no trouble assuming I was dead.'

Hanzo pursed his lips. He could imagine it, more or less, but he didn't want to. The sensation of being trapped in a confined space, hoping against hope that your meagre cover would save your life against the onslaught of explosions… well, it was one he wished never to experience again.

'A grenade launcher.'

'That's right.'

Hanzo frowned. His face felt a permanent frown lately. But then he had been engaged in some dark, trying work. The hunting of one's brother was not a task he would recommend.

'Assuming I believe your story of survival, which I do not, what happened next?'

'When the coast had cleared I snuck out. Plenty of entrances and exits to escape by.'

'But the battle…'

McCree nodded. 'The battle made things easier. None of the exits were unguarded, but they were all in a state of chaos, and that's just as good. I snuck past here and there, had to use a flash grenade, but no big deal. I was out of the building in no time. I was less than a kilometre from the mountain facility when guess who landed on me.'

The corners of Hanzo's mouth twitched. It was, more or less, a smile.

'We did?'

'Correct. Big damn warship, right on top. Wasn't easy, but I managed to sneak on.'

'Why?'

'Why do you think? One of my companions was trying to kill me!'

'And this brings us back to my original concern.' Hanzo mused, with deliberate casualness. 'If your allies are so willing to see you dead, what possible purpose would I serve by allowing you to live?'

'Aside from the fact that my allies are your enemies?' McCree noted wryly. 'And, that aside, I'm too badly wounded and unarmed to do you any harm anyway?'

Hanzo had to admit these were good points. But still…

'Yes, aside from that.'

'Well,' McCree continued, 'let's take into account that this particular bastard hated me before our stint as allies even began. I killed his people a few months back. And just recently I killed mine.'

'Seems death follows wherever you go.'

'Seems so.'

Hanzo genuinely considered killing the outlaw. It would not have been hard. Neither of them were armed at that particular moment, but what did it matter? McCree had wounds across most of his body, many inflicted within the past hour, and more than one potent drug coursing through him. The road renegade looked about as ready to pass out as he did to fight back. Hanzo, on the other hand, was in peak fighting condition. Their fight, if it even began, would last seconds.

'Very well,' Hanzo finally relented. 'I will allow you to live as my prisoner until we reach Japan. My father will decide what to do with you after we have extracted any and all useful information.'

'All I want is to survive.' McCree muttered. 'Survival is key in these times.'

'You're right. And, what's more, I have no doubt you are being honest. But that's not enough.' Again, Hanzo considered smiling, allowed the twitch to reach his cheeks if not his lips. 'Because your survival may not be the greatest aid in our survival. And for me, our survival is key.'

'As in…'

'Japan.' Hanzo slammed a fist onto the table. 'The power of Japan will prevail long after you and I have fallen. At least, if I have anything to say about it.'

Hanzo showed McCree to his quarters, beside the infirmary. From there they spent a few minutes watching Genji, whom McCree seemed to know as Mike. The younger brother was beyond unconscious. His breathing was so shallow he might as well have been dead, and the wounds…

'You fucked him up, didn't you?' McCree asked, looking over, unable to look away. 'I mean, pretty bad.'

'Yes.' Hanzo nodded.

'Why?'

'I did not want to. Nor did I mean to. But Genji did not realise the importance of the object he held. Nor he did he appreciate my resolve to complete the mission. His underestimation was his doom. Now we both suffer for it.'

McCree looked unhappy with the answer. 'Seems you almost killed your brother, to put it simply.'

'To put it simply,' Hanzo replied slowly, 'you would be correct.'

They spent another minute in silence.

'He won't die that easily, you know.' McCree finally said. 'I've spent a little time with that bastard. Not much, but enough. I know what a tough little turd he is, and I'm sure you do too. To survive in this harsh wilderness with just one ally is a hell of a feat. He's not going to die because of a few broken bones, some torn skin. He's going to rise, and rise again. Stronger than ever, probably.'

'I sincerely hope he does.' Hanzo agreed. 'In fact I'll be paying to ensure it. He is my brother after all.'

'You treat him like an enemy.'

'A man can be both. Your own companions seem scarcely like friends.'

McCree sighed. 'I didn't ask for this life.'

'I will not presume to lecture you on it if you do not lecture me on mine.' Hanzo answered, skirting the primary issue. Both were men of violence, men of war. They had a certain level of respect. A certain level of unwillingness to speak about these issues.

'Fine.' McCree snarled. 'Let's drop it, if that's what you want.'

'What I want,' Hanzo replied, 'is understanding. What I did, I did because I had to. Do you see that?'

'Yes.'

'Then we will get along just fine.'

Hanzo held out a hand. It took a moment, but McCree shook it, surprising them both. Hanzo stood to leave. There would be a guard posted to the sheriff's door. He would not be escaping.

'What are you going to do with me?' McCree asked as Hanzo left.

'My father shall decide.' Hanzo did not turn around as he walked through the door. 'But I promise you it will not be as forgiving as the fate we decide for my brother.'

And he slammed the door shut.