If Symmetra could have describe the incident in a word, it would be chaos. Two words? Utter chaos.
Sitting just a bit off to the side of The Panorama Diner's entrance, Symmetra was hyperventilating, hands clutching at her hair. She wasn't doing so well, unlike the unfazed cowboy puffing away at his cigar a few paces away. Only now did he apparently learn the concept of personal space. How thoughtful.
She desired nothing more than to fire a thousand insults, ones that would get her written up if she had dared to speak them at Vishkar, into him like there was no tomorrow, but she was having a hard time calming herself down. The pain in her chest only got worse with every harsh, uneven breath. The sounds, the commotion, her eyes trying to keep up with everything… it was too much for her to deal with. The last time she felt this overwhelmed was back in Rio when that ungrateful delinquent forced Vishkar out despite everything the company did for his run down, rotting little town.
"You ain't a fighter, are you?" McCree finally asked, taking another long draw from his smoke. He leaned on the railing, staring out into the distance. After the entire fiasco, he didn't seem to have a single scratch on him, just dusty from the debris rising up during their hell ride. The same couldn't be said for the thugs that attacked them just moments prior. Symmetra still had to do double takes to make sure this was really happening, but dead men do not lie. Lying out on the ground, blood pooled from their wounded bodies, there was no way she could ever forget this. The aftermath was grizzly for someone who walked a path of harmony and self righteousness.
But this could have ended so much differently…
Symmetra let out a shaky laugh, her mind filled with ambivalent thoughts and swirling emotions. She was reluctantly coming to terms that she could have easily died and that her life would have amounted to nothing after all she had strived for. Every accomplishment she achieved, every mistake that became her downfall… none of it would have mattered in the eyes of life and death. This was dangerous. Overwatch was dangerous. "N-no. I'm an architect. I'm not… I'm not cut out for this type of life if that is what you're asking of me," she managed to wheeze out, her exhaustion becoming more and more apparent as the adrenaline continued to fade away. "I'm not a fighter, far from it … I'm nothing like this. Like you. I-I'm just-"
He set the cigar down on the rail and came back to check up on her, spurs jingling as he walked closer. With careful consideration, he squatted down in front of her and removed his glove, slowly held out a hand as if to let her know he was going to touch her. "Don't worry about it," he gently said, taking her thin hands and curling them around her lips. Normally, she would have been alarmed and indignant at the feeling of his rough, calloused skin, but she was in no condition to pick a fight with him. She didn't even complain about the scent of the tobacco lingering on his warm breath and clothes, even if it tickled her nose. "In and out like this, okay? Gotta breathe though the gut, not the chest, y'hear me? Nice and easy now, that's it."
She followed his instructions carefully, listening word for word; however, she couldn't make eye contact with him, stubbornly avoiding his gaze. It was utterly humiliating, not to mention uncomfortable, to be left in such a vulnerable state in front of a stranger like this. She almost half wished he would have left her at the diner instead of staying here with her after his "business" was over. Anything but having to be taken care of as if she were an incompetent child instead of the educated and prestigious prodigy she was. Even so, she could feel her heart rate returning to its steady beat, and her body relaxed onto the wall behind her. Maybe he was good for something after all.
"Atta girl, you're doing just fine," he smiled, brushing her cheek with his gloved hand. She didn't want to think about the dust he was most certainly getting on her. "Thanks for watching my hide out there. Y'know, you're a helluva good support."
Support? Oh, that's right. In the midsts of his battle, she had reacted without thinking, quickly weaving shields from hardlight to protect them from onslaught of bullets coming from McCree's blindsides. They were thin and somewhat transparent, yet could take a few hits, coasting easily into the air and absorbing the shots. However, after a certain amount of damage, they would eventually shatter into nothing, and she would have to replace it with another. Even at Vishkar, she never had to make a defensive item besides her turrets before, so this creation was relatively new, even for her. She started to consider all the research and blueprints she'd have to go though to learn new methods in order to perfect this new tool of hers. From her short tour of the Gibraltar headquarters, she remembered being told about the workshop areas and lab. There was certainly enough space for her to set up. She'd have to work diligently on the shield to be more durable and learn how to weave them faster, so that the next time they-
Wait. What was she saying? There would be no next time, and there would especially not be a next time with him. Accurate with a revolver or not, she would rather walk barefoot on a the floor of the diner's filthy public restroom than to willingly join him on another wild escapade like this.
"It was not done to 'watch your hide,' it was just a basic flight or fight response. Any logical person would see that. Nothing I did was intentionally trying to save your life, I'll have you know," she muttered, leaning her head back. "The fact that you're unscathed is entirely dumb luck. Besides, I wouldn't have had to make any shields had you not put me into danger in the first place."
McCree snorted, seemingly not offended by her jabs, and took a load off next to her. He let out a loud sigh of relief the second he sat down. Glancing downwards, she immediately noticed that besides being grimy and speckled with dry mud, his serape was tattered and frayed at the ends. He had probably been at this lifestyle for years, and yet, he didn't seem so worn down by it. He was always poking fun and grinning as if all of this were nothing more than child's play. "Yeah, I hear ya, Miss Sassafrass."
"It's Symmetra."
He rolled his eyes but gave her another smile as he tapped his earpiece. "Hey, Ang? You there? Yeah, Took care of the crooked bunch that were lurking around here. I doubt that was all of em, but at least this thins their numbers. They probably won't be regrouping around here any time soon, but they'll definitely be more cautious about their whereabouts in the meantime," he said, reporting back to another teammate. Symmetra didn't bother to remember who was who during her incredibly short visit to Gibraltar, nor did she intend to. All she could tell by the muffled voice was that it was one of the few women that were stationed there. "Huh? Yeah, she's right next to me. No, I ain't lying- Hey, Symm, say somethin' so Angie knows I'm not kiddin' her."
"No."
"See? Perfectly safe and sound. I told you I could keep an eye out for her, and y'all had the nerve to doubt me. But listen, wanted to tell you that ETA is gonna be sooner than I thought it'd be, thanks to Symm over here. Can you believe it? The girl been raggin' on me all day about not wanting to join, but the next second, she's out here jumping at the chance to save the day. Shoulda seen her singlehandedly pushing the enemy back like a champ."
"I did no such thing. Stop that. You are deliberately spreading lies at my expense."
The man seemed awfully amused as he ended the transmission, reaching out and ruffling her hair as if she were a pet. The more time she spent here with him, the more she found him a nuisance, a pain in her side, and she lamented over the fact that he probably wouldn't be leaving her alone until they finally saw that she was terribly unfit for Overwatch. What happened today was a fluke, a simple reaction that unexpectedly benefited them. There was nothing about being on a battlefield on a constant basis that appealed to her. She was not a soldier; fighting and killing was nowhere near her in her nature. Sure, she had her photon projector, but even that wasn't meant to slaughter, at least not in her hands. Symmetra had tried explaining that to the Overwatch members who removed it from her when she was first brought over, but they simply stated it was a precaution. What they failed to realize was that she could have created another in an instant, but their knowledge of hardlight technology seemed vague at best. She hated the way the ape and dwarf kept pawing at it, trying to see how it worked when they thought she wasn't looking. If they meant to create a more efficient killing machine, they were tough out of luck. She designed it herself, and no one ever came close to replicating her inventions as well as she did each time.
"You all right now? Can you stand?" McCree asked as he got to his feet. He held out his hand for her to take, which she normally would have ignored. Her legs were sore from clamping onto the cycle so tightly the entire time, but it was only when he helped pulled her that she started feeling the full amount of burning in her muscles. When was the last time she had even exercised since her departure from Vishkar? Her usual routine had gone up in flames, and she hadn't had time nor energy to collect it from the ashes. She couldn't even remember a recent day where she had danced or stretched for morning yoga. It was no wonder why her body was aching so much. Her lips thinned, trying her best to keep her cool composure. She refused to groan or whine about it while he was here. Her pride had already been bruised enough as it was.
"Hah, you look like you could use a nap."
"I can only wonder why that is, Mr. Mccree," she sharply retorted, brushing herself off. The sooner she could get herself into a hot shower, the better. She needed to scrub herself clean at least three or so times to get all the sweat and never ending supply of dust off of her skin."I imagine we will be returning now that your 'mission' is over?"
"Yeah, don't worry, just need to do a couple of things before we head off. One of em being this," he said as he held up the keys to the hovercycle he had snagged. He didn't look too concerned that the owner would be infuriated by the theft and possible damages done. There was at least two bullet holes in the sides from what she remembered. They were fortunate that it didn't stop the cycle from running. "Gotta hand these back and all. Come in with me?"
Her only interest in even going back in the diner was to see him get chewed out for his reckless stunt that put everyone there in jeopardy. Surely, someone in this bumpkin town had to be reasonable enough to see that he was a delinquent that needed to be stopped. The thought of him getting berated amused her greatly. "I suppose I could humor you a few more moments," Symmetra simply said as she followed him back inside, feeling smug on the inside.
What she didn't expect was the cheering. Nothing could have prepared her for that. The second Mccree stepped foot inside that room, there was an abrupt round of applause, people scrambling left and right just to get close to him. It left her speechless and confused as she did her best to not get trampled on or jostled out of the way. Why were they praising a criminal like him? He just killed several men just outside their doors not even an hour ago. This sort of behavior was nothing that needed to be congratulated over, and yet, these people were eager to shake his hand or touch his serape as if he was a heavenly gift to this world. She swiftly maneuvered to the back of the room, away from the growing crowd, standing on her tiptoes to see if there would be any explanation on this unruly display of adoration towards the cowboy.
The older gentleman, who she assumed to be the owner of the restaurant, wasted no time in scurrying to Mccree, earnestly grabbed his hand, and shook it several times with no signs of stopping. "Yer a life saver! No, no… a hero! Just can't thank you enough!" He beamed, stars shining in his eyes. "Those Deadlock goons didn't even have a chance! I'm mighty impressed you was able to fight them off just like that! Not to say I didn't expect yous to be so skillful, but to watch you in action- Phew! Never seen anythin so exciting in my life!"
No, it was a complete risk to everyone's lives, Symmetra wanted to argue, hardly seeing what was so "exciting" about spinning around on a stolen bike and murdering random men. Her faith in these people plummeted. Everyone here was a lunatic.
"Aw, shucks… it was nothin' really," Mccree sheepishly replied, scratching at his beard. For a ruffian, he was rather humble and down to earth with the people who idolized him."I know firsthand that Deadlock is a bunch of no good hellions, thinkin' they can do whatever the hell they want, but they can't just go draggin' everyone down with them and causin' trouble. I just wanna make this place safer for the folks out here. We don't need no more chaos and wars. There's been enough bad shit going on everyday, but…" Even with the crowd around him, he still managed to single out Symmetra all the way in the back and smiled. "Someday, we'll make it a better world."
Her face warmed up the moment the cowboy met her gaze. Was it a coincidence or intentional? Either way, she was a little annoyed at the creeping feeling of guilt slowly consuming her as she carefully processed his words. She didn't want to have to take back anything she said before, but hearing him share the same goal as her made her rethink her first impression of him. So maybe he wasn't just a trigger happy hooligan, just a fool with good intentions and poor execution. It still changed nothing between them. She wouldn't join him on these dangerous Overwatch missions. She could never take up arms in the name of peace. There was no winning when blood was shed.
"But I really couldn't have done this without my lovely partner," he suddenly spoke up, gesturing to her and beckoning her to join his side. Suddenly, every eye was on her, curiously sizing her up, and several people whispered. They were surprised to see her standing there, unsure of how they didn't notice her walk back in with Mccree. Dressed in refined and stately clothes, she certainly looked like a person of important status compared to the homey, casual atmosphere of the diner. Combined with her flawless skin, a delightful umber, the color of the pure earth, and dark, intelligent eyes that could see straight into your soul, she stood out like an ethereal beauty amongst humans. Even as she slowly traipsed to Mccree and stood next to him, it wasn't very clear of how he was connected to this mystery woman at all, hero or not.
"What are you doing?" she hissed, shuffling her feet. She disliked the feeling of being the center of attention. If her cheeks were warm before, they were on fire now. Why did that blasted man have to do this now after she was starting to think differently about him?
"Can't take all the credit, now can I?" He roped his arm around her, his hand resting on her shoulder. He was always acting so familiar with her, it was suffocating. She was so used to the silence and solemness of the Vishkar Corporation. No one would dare touch her like this; everyone always kept to themselves. She herself had extremely limited contact with anyone even when she studied her way through the Architect Academy. Did people really just go around grabbing each other like this in the outside world? She could feel the goosebumps prickling her skin where his hand was.
"Ma'am?"
She was startled out of her thoughts, and she found herself looking straight into the owner's eyes. He had removed his hat and was holding it against his chest. "Y-yes…?" she awkwardly looked at Mccree who only shrugged with that stupid grin on his face. Honestly, this man was no help without his gun.
"It's a real honor. Thank you too for keepin' these parts clear. It means a lot to us small folk for Overwatch to still take up our requests," he said as he bowed out of respect.
"Oh. I'm not part of- h-hey!" Symmetra huffed when Mccree gently kicked her ankle, and she glared at him with all the animosity of death.
"What she means is she's a new recruit. First day and all! She's taking huge strides already, ain't she? Real proud of her, my little underling; we all are at Overwatch!" He quickly piped up, squeezing her closer.
"No, I-"
"You bunch sure are lucky to have her! Say, ma'am, was that you making all them fancy floating stuff out there? Cant say I've ever seen anythin' like that." The owner peered at her prothetic arm. "Is this doohickey how you make it?"
"Yes, well-"
"Do it again!" A child blurted out, "That was really cool!"
"Ah… it's not that I cannot, but-"
"I'd like to see it up close myself," another person chimed in.
Once more, the crowd was enthusiastic and cheerful, and it was a little overwhelming. Multiple people wanted her to show them the hardlight shields while others were showing their appreciation for her help. One lady even offered her "very single and available" son to marry her. Symmetra shrunk back into Mccree's side, ironically wanting him to take her away from here. People were so loud.
"As much as I'd love to stay long and show off the new recruit, we really outta be heading out," he said, coming to her rescue as if he read her thoughts. "I just came to tell y'all that the deed was done, but thanks for all the warm words and welcome." He laughed at the sound of disappointed groans. "And don't worry, it won't be the last you see of me. I'll always be ready for any request I see fit for justice."
He reached into his pocket and dug out the pair of keys from the hovercycle he had taken. "And uh… to the owner of that blue bike out there? I, uh…" he awkwardly coughed. "I took it for a spin out there, but I think there may be a bit of damage to it. There's uh… definitely at least two bullet holes in there. I'll pay for the damages."
"That was my bike!" one man pushed his way to the front to retrieve his keys.
"Sir, I am so sorry-"
"I can't believe THE Mccree rode MY hover cycle!" He held the keys up to his face as if he was holding gold. "Did you hear that? The bonafide Mccree touched my bike and used it for! This is like a dream!"
Once they wrapped up in the diner and bid their goodbyes, Symmetra walked with him out the door, looking over her shoulder as the people in the diner waved and saw them off. Once they were out of ear shot of the place, she looked at him from the corner of her eye. "…Why did you tell those people I was part of Overwatch? Is this a new induction tactic? Are you to guilt me into joining now, so I don't have to lie to them?" She sounded more curious than angry at the very least.
He shook his head and sighed. "No, that wasn't my intention, trust me."
"Well then, why did you say that?" she asked, trying to keep up with his strides. This was the last time she wore heels in the middle of a desert.
"Symmetra, look… times are still pretty rough out here. The Omnic Crisis might've been 30 years ago, but you and I both know the world has yet to recover from it. Overwatch used to be a symbol of hope for people, for me too even, and if bandin' back together can do that again, you better believe I will let them cling to it. They need that small bit of happiness and security more than ever. I'm sorry for fibbin', really I am, but I wanted to preserve that moment for them."
"Oh." She didn't know what else to say in return, and they spent the rest of their trek back to the jet in silence. It wasn't until they were up in the air after some time that she spoke up again.
"… Now what?" she asked, watching Mccree input the coordinates for Watchpoint Gibraltar. As archaic as he looked with his outfit, he was surprisingly good at piloting this thing. She couldn't make heads or tails of the controls or buttons. He did mention before that a few of the members on Overwatch, especially one other, knew how to fly it. In the past, they had several pilots on the controls, but they didn't have that privilege now.
"What do you mean?" He flipped some switches, not looking at her from his seat in the cockpit.
"You know what I mean. What are you going to do now? About me. I still have not agreed to join, remember?" She tapped her pointer finger and thumb on her prosthetic hand to calm her nerves. She was very uncertain of what would occur now that his job was done.
"Yeah, I know."
The short reply was unexpected and somehow made her even more anxious. Was he mad? He didn't sound like he was angry, but she could be wrong. "… Are you not going to try and persuade me some more? Is that not your hobby, being an annoyance and pestering me?"
Mccree snorted and set the jet on auto-plane before going down the steps and sitting next to her. "No, you don't have to worry none. I won't try it anymore. You made your decision, and that's that."
She wasn't sure how she felt about his sudden change of heart. "Are you certain? This isn't some type of reverse psychology, is it? Because I hope you know I will not fall for petty schemes."
"No plots, no schemes, Symmetra, Scouts honor. I respect that Overwatch is too much for you. I decided it the second I saw you hyperventilating out there. Wouldn't want you to be afraid nor get hurt because we want you out there on the field. You're a sharp mind and lord knows you'd be a perfect fit for us, but I aint gonna force it on you." He gently patted her back to reassure her but stopped the second he noticed that she leaned away. "We're just gonna go back, let you clean up and rest, then you're free to go."
"What about the deal? I thought my only choices were rotting in prison or joining the likes of you," she reminded.
"We'll figure something out, it'll be all right." He took off his hat and put it over his face as he slouched down in the seat to rest. "Wake me up if we're gonna crash or something."
For the first few hours, Symmetra was restless. For once, sitting in silence didn't bode well with her. She wanted to talk more about her situation with Overwatch or anything really. It would take some time for them to return. She envied past-Symmetra for being able to sleep so soundly during the ride to Route 66. Eventually, she glanced over at Mccree, who was lightly snoring underneath his hat, and tugged at his sleeve.
"Mccree," she whispered, "wake up."
"… We gonna crash?" He grumbled in response, rousing from his sleep.
"No, we are in perfectly stable condition actually."
He pulled the hat down just enough to uncover one eye. She had been acting pretty odd ever since they left the diner, but he knew better than to pry by now. "All right. Goin' back to sleep then."
"Wait, I… I wish to speak to you," she mumbled, a stark contrast to her behavior from before. She was still tapping her finger tips together, making soft repetitive clicks.
"Yeah? About what?" He was a little intrigued as to what she could possible want to talk about with him. All day she was trying to do everything but.
"About what you were trying to tell me in the diner. You mentioned to me that you were in my position once with joining overwatch. I apologize for interrupting before, but I want you to tell me now."
He stared for a moment, not really expecting that. He even forgot that he brought it up to her. "Now?"
"Yes."
He groggily sat up, not displeased at being woken up just to tell her a story, or at least, she hoped he wasn't.
"Huh, well if that's what you really want, I reckon I can share with you. Just give me a second to wake up a bit, Symmetra," he yawned as he stretched his arms over his head, hat back on his head.
"…Call me Satya."
