Fareeha paced slowly along the square platform that sat below the town bell tower, keeping an eye out down the main drag of the town where two men had been standing alone, though there had been townspeople standing on either side along the buildings as if awaiting a show. As she'd been instructed merely to do reconnaissance, she'd jumped up here to remain out a sight, checking her wrist computer to go over the transmission that had come over the airwaves in an undeniably Overwatch encryption pattern, meaning that Lena must have sent it, though Fareeha couldn't have told from where.
"I…n…t…o…w…n…1…2…0…0"
Pulling her head up to watch the two men down below, Fareeha leaned against one of the bell house's support beams, keeping her eyes narrowed as the black-clad men ran drills, one of them practicing their quickness in drawing their weapon from their holster and firing the sidearm, though without ammunition.
"Is a duel going down?" she wondered aloud.
The speaker in her ear crackled before Angela's voice appeared, "Looks like it. Well have some profiles in a few more minutes; being newly reinstated, we don't exactly have access to as many profiling databases as we used to; Winston's on with somebody in San Francisco."
Fareeha nodded, "This is kind of exciting; this is like something out of the movies."
"Well, given that message, I wouldn't exactly be thrilled. I'd assume Jesse is the opposing participant if Tracer has you show up for this," Angela sighed, "God, what have those two gotten themselves into…"
"I don't have any bearing or communique on Tracer," Fareeha reported, "At least if Jesse does show up in ten minutes, he won't recognize me."
Angela groaned, "Dear, you do realize your eye makes you stick out like a sore thumb, right?"
"I'm bringing the wedjat back in style; I'm sure my mother and I aren't the only tan women running around. Did you see that image from the convention in Wales in honor of Overwatch returning? There were some dudes wearing 'em too," Fareeha shrugged to herself.
"Whatever you say," Angela frowned, leaving Fareeha to return her attention to the desert scene below,
She watched as a third man approach in a black outfit, suddenly appearing from one of the buildings, dragging a fourth man along behind him. The man looked worse for wear, not even putting up a fight as he was slid along the course earth below, his face dropping to the dirt as the black-clad man stopped alongside the others.
"Oh no..," Fareeha spoke softly to herself in worry, "Are we sure this is a duel? or is this an execution?"
Angela stared intently at her screen, watching the live feed from Fareeha's helmet with deepening eyes, "I don't know.. If we could get a cleaner picture of his face, we could…"
Her voice slowed to a stop as she watched the scene play out, the leader of the group seemingly taunting and kicking at the man, "I don't think that's Jesse… There!"
Fareeha looked on as Angela ran her attention toward an adjacent monitor, having caught the man's face for a brief enough moment to reroll the footage and grab a still, "I'll run it through our systems and hope for a quick enough match."
"Yeah. And be quick," Fareeha's voice muttered waveringly, "I can't watch this much longer without doing something about it."
It only took a mere moment or so for the Overwatch database to register a match, sending a shiver down Angela's spine as it loaded the results, knowing that the system cycled through their highest people of interest before anything else.
"Fuck…" she spoke in a whisper, "That's who she was talking about…"
"Who?" Fareeha asked, nearly in a worried tone.
Angela felt her heart jump in her chest as she took a deep breath, returning to Fareeha's feed, "Pharah, under no circumstance is that man to die, do you hear me? I'm going to get with Winston- this is bigger than anything else right now."
"What?!" Fareeha questioned with great confusion, watching the leader of the gang turning down the road with crossed arms, her eyes turning toward a man turning the corner from a adjoining street, the brim of his cowboy hat pulled low, a red cape running the length of his torso as he approached the men.
"We've got somebody- Hello?"
Having left her post to contact Winston, Angela left Fareeha blind outside her own vision, an unsettling feeling welling up within her as the lone man walked down the stretch of road. She reached back to clutch the rocket launcher she'd sat beside her, as though to prepare for action, though her wrist came to life as another transmission came across her equipment.
"…W…A…T…C…H…"
Fareeha frowned, closing her eyes as she groaned quietly to herself, knowing enough about Lena herself to know that her plans were often spotty at best. She reached a hand up to hold her head as it shook in uncertainly, always choosing field work specifically because she preferred to take orders than make them, her eyes thankfully flashing as Angela's voice returned to her.
"Pharah! That man is Michael Hale; he was seen in incredibly close contact with Amelié Lacroix before she murdered a senior Overwatch operative and disappeared; he CANNOT die, do you hear me?"
"U-Understood," Fareeha agreed, her legs running slightly numb at the sudden gravity of the situation.
Angela went on, "Anything to do with McCree is no longer your mission, alright? Get that man back here alive, understood?!"
Fareeha nodded, the camera feed denoting the action to Angela before returning her view to her wrist, "Do you think Tracer already has something planned out?"
"I wouldn't trust that girl to plan a birthday party!" Angela shouted as she watched the message play back on Fareeha's wrist screen, "You have your orders!"
Angela dropped her head into her hands as her mind reeled from what all was going on, and so suddenly as well. Tracer. "That man"… Was this the man they'd talked about the day before? Angela brought up the phone conversation on the side, playing it back with closed eyes.
"You think I'm bad, huh."
"It happens to most people; you get to know that look of shock. You wore it after I showed you that man- sort of a depraved sort of shock, like you can't believe a man could act in that sort of way."
Angela's eyes narrowed at the sudden thought they they had fallen into something that went far over their heads, with Fareeha in the middle of it. She noticed Jesse on the feed, her body leaning closer toward the screen.
"Pharah… Whatever you do-"
Fareeha lifted her wrist, watching it in her peripheral vision to keep Angela from seeing it through the camera in her helmet, finding another message from Tracer.
"…I …G…O…T…T…H…I…S…"
She couldn't help but feel uneasy at such a claim from that woman.
Jesse strode into town, unable to completely hide how sore he was, ultimately limping or even swaying forward every few steps. His back still stung from earlier, and even after however warm of a shower he was able to draw, his muscles still seized at his every movement, leaving him fairly broken as he eyed his brother beginning to stretch his arms as though it were nothing. He barely even noticed the crowd that had been drawn, duels still being a sought after form of entertainment out here, Jesse's eyes merely sunken in with focus as he stared at his brother.
"Look what the cat drug in," Joshua goaded toward his henchmen, grinning at his brother's near-shattered body, "Never thought you'd see this town again, did ya?"
Jesse didn't reply. He had business to tend to, though whatever hopefulness he gleaned came from how inexperienced his brother had to have been. Regardless of how he got to the top of the Deadlock Gang, he still only had experience being in a group; he hadn't ever needed to get his own hands dirty. Unlike Jesse with that Gang, or Overwatch for that matter, he knew, probably too well, how to kill by only his own hands, simply by himself.
Joshua shook his head with a grin, turning over his shoulder, "Get a load of this fuckin' guy. He always thought he was the shit back in the day; you remember, Victor."
The man behind him nodded as Joshua went on, explaining to the crony he'd taken to Jesse's home earlier, "Vic's been in Deadlock since Jesse was in it. Bet'cha never thought you'd be seein' one McCree kill another McCree, huh?"
Victor's face turned in slight disgust, "Guess I hadn't."
Jesse stopped about halfway down the street, checking the ground at his feet, finding a severely warm out pitching mound strip of plastic that sat two feet away from another, denoting where the duelists were to meet. He sighed, reaching up to lower the brim of his hat to shade his face, shutting his eyes as he recalled his promise to his mother, realizing too late that he'd lowered his hat to cover any tears that might show up upon his face.
"C'mon, brother," Joshua snickered, lifting his arms as his crony wrapped a belt and holster around his waist for him, "Not excited to die? I'd figured after all I'd put you through, y'know, I thought you might be looking forward to not feeling a thing."
Without moving or opening his eyes, Jesse replied lowly, "Just hand the man over and let me be. Nobody has to die here today."
Scoffing, his brother grimaced at the thought, "The fuck we're doin' that! You left me to die; I'm sure as Hell gonna make sure I repay the thought!"
"I already thought I had broken my promise to watch over and protect you," Jesse explained, "Don't make me go through that again. All mother wanted was us both to-"
"Pfft, fuck that bitch; she always put you up on pedestal," Joshua rolled his eyes.
"She wanted nothing but the best for us, even in this hell hole. You'll never understand that responsibility of watching over somebody else; you had it easy, little brother, I never had the guardian that you had in me."
Joshua frowned, throwing his hand out to grab a revolver that Victor had held out for him, "You certainly did a mop-up job with that, Jesse. Running off and leaving me to fend for myself. So excuse me if I'm not exactly prepared to abide by promises you've already broken."
Jesse felt the same guilt welling up within him that would accompany him whenever he was being a recipient of his brother's beatings. He had broken that promise already, no matter how unintentionally; having chosen to turn on the Deadlocks only because he'd thought his brother was already dead. He'd thought he had nothing left here; at the end of the day, he knew, he deserved to be broken by this man for all Jesse had put him through.
His eyes jolted open as he felt a tug at his pants, immediately seeing Michael at his feet on all fours, hanging onto Jesse's pant leg as though it were the only thing keeping him from collapsing. He thought of how much worse Joshua's torment was compared to his own if this man was so desperate to choose his side over his brother's.
Jesse's face lifted up as he heard Joshua approaching, strutting up to the opposing strip like hot shit, he thought, though Victor was quick to dash up toward the dueling markers to halt the proceedings, "Hey! Hey! You, McCree; you haven't a second. This duel ain't starting unless you get one!"
"Goddamn; fuck the rules!" Joshua groaned, rolling his head around his shoulders in exasperation.
Victor growled, "I've partaken in some shit, Josh, but duels are the only thing keepin' all us from bein' animals! I'm not about to have this crowd kill us all fer not followin' the code! McCree! Get a second!"
Jesse shrugged, "You're lookin' at him."
Victor eyed him curiously, as did Joshua, before his eyes descended to the man clutching his leg, "This vermin?!"
"He's ready and willing," Jesse answered, licking Michael's hand off of him, "Ain't ya?"
Michael couldn't reply, though the appropriate seemed to satisfy Victor enough that he took a step back, shrugging in indifference, "Yer funeral, man. Can he fire a gun if your opponent displays illegal conduct in this fight?"
"My opponent won't have a chance to do so."
Victor felt a tingle down his spine at Jesse's words, giving seen his dead-eye in action enough times in years past. He raised his hands in the air, again in indifference, before stepping back, calling the savage etiquette as he did so.
"On 'ten', you both make your alterations, taking steps as I countdown," Victor explained emotionlessly, having done this often enough, "On three, you make ready at your weapons, on 'fire' you turn and do so. Understood?"
Jesse pushed Michael away as Joshua finished his strutting walk up to the white bar in the dirt, the two coming to meet face to face in the center of the street. Joshua kicked up some dirt to check his traction as Jesse watched him, perfectly still, staring right through his younger brother without anything of a twitch.
"I hope you don't lose your nerve, Josh."
His brother sneered, amused by his brother's sudden challenge.
"It'll be the easiest thing to put a bullet through your heart after what all you did to me," Joshua returned, "Just don't have any tricks up your sleeve."
In a second, Jesse's hand reached up and slid its thumb through the gap of his button-down shirt, ripping the top-most half of buttons to reveal his bare chest, slightly agitated by his brother's insinuation, "I cheat death. not life."
Joshua grinned, holding his wrist back against his waist, "You're not worried that I'm wearin' a vest?"
"You should've read up on your older brother," Jesse offered coldly, "That's not where I'll be aiming."
A chilling crawl of nerves ran up Joshua's spine as his face fell in a sudden look of haunted shock, leaving him just barely hearing Victor speak up.
"Duelists at the ready."
Jesse took his hand and cleared his shirt fabric from his holster, watching Joshua stare at him confused, "You're supposed to-"
"I KNOW!" Joshua roared, unsnapping his holster heatedly, whipping his head toward Victor, "Hurry it up! I'm ready to end this miserable bastard's life!"
Victor held up a hand as though to direct him to wait, taking a step back as he readied himself for the countdown. He pulled out a pocket watch as he watched its face slip along its final revolution before reaching 12:00. High noon.
"Ten."
Jesse and Joshua spun around in tandem, stepping in time with Victor's countdown.
"Nine."
"Eight."
"Seven."
Joshua held his hand palm-down above his revolver, keeping it as close as he could without touching it, nearly feeling a chill along its cold steel as Victor's voice turned to a cotton-balled beating in his ears, focusing so greatly on the duel that he nearly went blank at his mind, his fingers twitching just barely.
"Six."
"Five."
"Four."
"Three."
Jesse lifted his hand and hovered it above his own revolver, staring off into the distance, his face shaded from the high-sitting sun from his hat. He watched the mountain ranges crag along the skyline, the same picturesque scene that has captivated his wife and kept her anchored in this cold place. The same place that had taken her. The same place he now found himself saddled to.
"Two."
Joshua took in a breath, welling up his resolve, steeling his nerves as the pounding of the countdown reverberated in his head, only two more. He thought of nothing more than the weeks on end he'd been trapped beneath a rockslide, left to die by his brother, forced to tear his body up in escape. His entire life had been built on that betrayal; he'd scraped his way to where he was now, and he wasn't about to allow his brother the chance to take it away once again.
"One."
A cold breath left Jesse's nose as he shut his eyes, coming to a stop as the vision of the horizon was left painted behind his eyes, his wife and children springing to his mind as his index finger twinged above his sidearm. His head rolled back ever so slightly as he emptied his mind of every thought, flooding himself with nothing of darkness as a loud voice finally broke his concentration.
"Fire!"
Jesse dug his heel, spinning around as he slid his gun from its holster, lifting his arm to-
BANG
His eyes flew open wide at the crackling air. His heart went numb as a thundering force flew into his chest, Jesse's legs giving way as he fell backwards, digging his knee into the dirt to keep himself afoot, his free hand flying up to cover his chest as his opposing arm remained aimed at his brother, whose eyes were just as wide in horror at the prospect of his brother being able to retaliate still.
Jesse's ribs cringed, his eyes winced from the pressure at his chest, still remaining focused as Joshua's hand slowly dropped only slightly, a cold look on his face as Jesse kept his aim true.
"Imposs-"
BANG
Joshua's head whipped around, his shoulders and torso following along as his body sickly contorted, spinning around as it slammed into the ground with a massive THUD, leaving the crowd with only a gasp at the sight. Victor's eyes were wide; he'd seen Joshua's bullet hit the man dead-center, yet Jesse still made his way to his feet, standing tall, his arm still outstretched.
He took a step toward his brother's now-lifeless corpse.
BANG
More steps, his pace quickening.
BANG
His teeth barred as he grit them forcefully.
BANG
Tears welled up at his eyes, watching his brother's body recoil more and more with every bullet as he made his way closer.
BANG
BANG
click
click
Jesse lifted his arm up, bringing it down and throwing the gun with all his might at his brother, groaning loudly in anguish through his teeth as he made it above his brother, falling to his knees at his side and hitting him in the back, slumping over the corpse as he grappled its shoulders, spinning his brother's dusty face into view. Tears poured from Jesse's eyes as he punched him, again and again, wailing out in repeated grunts as he felt his knuckles nearly crumble from the force he was exerting into smashing his face in. He punched, again and again, crying and heaving until every ounce of energy had left him there on his knees, exhausted, unable to recognize his brother from the bloody and battered face that returned its look to him.
He gasped for air as he sat there, head buried as low as it could go, the hot air of the desert having already dried up his tears as his body rocked back and forth unevenly from his hollowed breaths. He shut his eyes on his brother one final time, gradually able to work his way back up to his feet as turn to the proprietor of the duel.
"You can keep the badge," Jesse muttered, his voice a shallow whisper, "I don't need it anymore."
Two streets away, the wooden door into a bathroom suddenly crashed open, finding not a soul there to have done such a thing. Slowly enough, however, a trail of lightly blue bursts of light, almost like bubbles, appeared in the air leading toward the bathroom sinks, a woman suddenly appearing out of nowhere with a massive, blood-curdling gasp. Lena grappled onto the two sides of the sink as she bent low over the porcelain frame, feeling as though she were about to eject every bit of her insides. Her knees were weak, her body sinking as she shook in violent shivers, falling down to a knee as she pressed her forehead against the cold porcelain of the sink, trying desperately to calm her body as her heart raced in dangerous tempo.
She reached a hand up and unstrapped the Kevlar vest she'd had on, grasping it and ripping it from herself before dropping it at her side, her eyes gingerly staring at it without removing her head from the coldness above. She stared at the bullet lodged in there, not an inch away from stealing her life.
Her fingers curled along the edges of the sink as she shut her eyes, quietly whimpering to herself in hushed murmurs as she thought of nothing else but Emily. How she missed her voice, her warmth; how close she had just come to losing everything about her, forever.
Slowly, her face broke away from the sink as she sat down, wiping her sleeve along her eyes to pull away her tears, a sudden emptiness filling up within her, prompting her to pull out her phone and stare at the picture of herself and Emily that greeted her, having no idea just how frightening the idea of losing her was.
Her hand fell away as she brought her legs toward her chest, curling up against her knees as her body shook with even more tears.
