Warning: Long AF Chapters Ahead
Deadlock Gorge, along Route 66, Arizona
"Fine. I'll do it. But as the song goes, I'll do it my way. And I'm old enough that I will get my way."
Nathan awoke slouched against the passenger-side door, his vision adjusting to the Arizona sun. The encroaching sound of the truck's engine, the passing highway wind, and the pattering road dirt helped ease his awakening. Staring blankly out the window.
He took a breath when all his faculties returned, receding into a more comfortable position in his seat. Without the bulk of his riot gear to get in the way, his armor in the backseat. Recounting what woke him up.
"You alright?" McCree asks, glancing over from the driver's side.
"Yeah," Brin curtly responds, sitting up. "How much longer 'till we get there?"
"By the hour at most. Plenty of time."
McCree glanced to a triangular, porcelain-white chip with a small blue light resting on the dashboard. Nathan glanced at it, too, but went back to staring at the Arizona landscape.
Nathan had never extensively traveled what would be "Caesar's Land" back home, but always wondered what it was like on the other side of the Colorado River; Not from the middle of a fortified hill. From where he was sitting, going 70-80 mph, he saw Arizona looked as desert as the Mojave. Just with some of the tallest rocks he's seen. Wondering how they looked up close.
"You've ever been to Arizona, before?" McCree suddenly asked, slight curiosity breaking the silence that grew within the car.
"Never had a chance," the Waster answered.
"Wasn't safe after the bombs fell?"
"Oh, it was plenty safe last I heard, but after it was 'conquered' by savages parading around as Roman soldiers. Led by the most megalomaniac savage of them all."
"Ah, right. So… Not really that safe, then?"
Nathan's frowned at the memory of the Legion, many scars their courtesy. Jesse didn't need to see those scars to gauge his opinion of them.
The Waster scoffed. "Still safer than most places, because of what they did… Guess I gotta give that son of a bitch some credit."
The car lapsed back into silence, again. Although, Nathan felt some remorse. A few more minutes and the truck began winding up some mountains, the hum of the wind changing slightly as Jesse eased on the gas. Deep gorges came into view and caught Nathan's eye. Still simmering with apprehension from his sleep. He was antsy ever since he left the MEKA base and that feeling only heightened once he set foot on American soil. Not soil he knew – a contradiction that he was already tired of wrapping his head around – the land still as foreign to him as anywhere else.
He may need to know more.
"You from around here?" Nathan asked, barely taking his eyes off the gorges.
"Me? Nah," Jesse answered.
"I thought you were, given how you know this place."
"There was a time I called it home."
Nathan paused. "Where is home, then?"
Jesse looked over for a second. "I'm from New Mexico, one state over. And despite what you may think, I wasn't born into the outlaw life."
"Never did."
"You looked like you did."
"Hmph. What life were you born into, then?"
"Farmers. I was born to farmers."
Nathan's ears perked up as he broke his gaze from the gorges.
"Wait, you grew up on a farm, too?" he asked, slight disbelief in his tone. "So, you really aren't a poser? Good."
"You're a farm boy, too?" Jesse half-smiled, half-scoffed, equally in as much disbelief as Nathan. "You sure didn't dress the part."
"Why would I want to?"
"What the hell do you farm after an apocalypse, anyway?"
Nathan frowned, almost offended. "Crops… Normal food. Maize, tomatoes, carrots, potatoes, whatever we had," he listed off, memories of a very old life calling back to him. "I think we even grew cabbages at one point before ants got to them."
"That's more than I was expectin'," Jesse admitted, somewhat impressed with post-nuclear agriculture. "What about livestock? I think I heard you mention cattle, once."
"Brahmin. They're cows but radiation decided to give them two heads… a head."
McCree chuckled. Hardly believing the Waster's words if he wasn't so confident in his speech. Yet, again, he was the man who appeared from nowhere. And they've already been stuck together so long.
"Stink as bad as ordinary cows?" the non-Wasteland farmer asked.
"Wouldn't know, but Brahmin are probably worse. Twice the mouths, twice the stomachs, and probably twice the manure. Still, even with all the shit we would deal with, literally and figuratively, what made you leave the farm?"
McCree hung silent when he asked that, as if pondering providing a response. If it was another time, somewhere else, he might've declined to answer. But he was with present company.
"Well, like a lot of my problems, it started with a woman," he finally answered.
The road stopped climbing the mountain and leveled.
"Who was this woman?" Nathan's asked.
"Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe," Jesse rehearsed from perfect memory. His features kept calm, but his grip on the steering wheel tightened a smidge. "Nickname, 'Calamity'."
"Christ, what a $10 name."
"Trust me, pardner, that name's the cheapest thing about her. Came from a rich family, had more money than my bounty. And I got a pretty big bounty. But she pursued the life of an outlaw."
"What did she do, then? Lure you away and sucker you into it. Seduce you into doing the gang boss' dirty work?"
"Not exactly. She never was my type for a host of reasons, the foremost being that she was the gang boss."
"No shit?"
"No shit," McCree iterated as the truck veered and saw the opening of a tunnel up ahead. "Well, it was all a gang effort and I was there for the start of it, but she sure as hell didn't mind being in charge. No one really said 'no' to that, either, she was good at helping us get money. And we were all in it for the money and…"
"And what?"
McCree deliberated on his words, the sun visor masking his scowl
"I guess the poorest excuse for a family a bunch of teenage outlaws could muster."
"Family, huh…? She still alive?"
"We'll find out soon enough. After I get some goddamn pie."
They entered the tunnel when an electronic rumbling erupted from the passenger side, and McCree watched Nathan get startled and reached into his left pocket. Producing a cellphone; A rather new one.
"Where d'you get that?" McCree asked.
"Hana gave it to me before we left Korea," Nathan answered as he poked the screen. "Said she had a bunch of spares from 'sponsors' or something? I don't remember. I think she sent me one of those 'text messages'."
"What's it say?"
Nathan squinted. "Good luck, Uncle!"
"'Uncle'?! Hah! When the hell did she start calling you tha-"
A large explosion erupted at the end of the tunnel. The Cowboy slammed on the brakes as light from the end of the tunnel was quickly enveloped by clouds of smoke and dust before being blocked by wreckages of what looked like train cars.
Both men in the truck stared at the blocked passageway illuminated in their headlights. McCree's eyes were as a wide as headlights, glancing at his wristwatch in the dim light. He was right on time.
"Dammit!" he slammed the dashboard with his metal hand, leaving a dent in it and making the little white chip tremor. Shifting the car into gear, he twirled it around and sped off towards the entrance of the tunnel. Nathan was shocked for a moment before he reached to the back seat and retrieved All-American.
It had been hours since the Deadlock Gang returned to their hideout, hidden away within the gorge that was their namesake. Returning from another audacious height that surely would've gained the ire of every pertinent government agency in America. That alone was usually enough reason to celebrate, but the gang hadn't so much as appraised the value of a single munitions cache when they returned. The air was uncharacteristically silent, and their alcohol consumption was more fueled by grief than celebration. The Deadlock Gang fewer in number than when they left.
The surviving leader of Deadlock – Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe – was alone in her room, sitting at an old wooden desk. The boss was only in her dress shirt and pants, with her tie unraveled and hanging over her neck. Her lever-action rifle leaned against the desk next to her, still dirty from today's job. Her only companions there were a bottle of whiskey and a pack of cigarettes, a cloud of smoke wafting around her and her room.
Taking a drag from what was her third cigarette for this session, she held it inside until the burning became too much and let go. She leaned forward onto her desk, using both hands to hold a torn-up photo she had kept for years. It showed a younger Ashe with longer hair and a hand of cards in the background, while a young man smoking a cigar with a big hat and an even bigger gun posed in the foreground.
She had been studying that old photo for a while by this point, taking it from where it was taped to on her chopper. As the picture showed, it was taken a long time ago, practically in what seemed like another life. Also, as it showed, it held a lot of painful memories that began to resurface after the heist. When she had to do a headcount of who was lost, again. Ashe's mind drifted as she ran her fingers over the middle of the photo where it was torn, until she grabbed her glass of whiskey and threw her head back, groaning when she gulped.
"Goddammit!" Ashe cursed through clenched teeth, suddenly pounding a fist on her desk and making everything on it shake. She then let go of the photo to clutch her head and leaned further onto her desk to let out a muffled scream into her hands. A moment passed before she quickly sat up and composed herself. As best she could.
"Every day… Every day it seems like there are fewer and fewer of us," she rasped out, exasperated. "No matter what we do or what we try, bastards will find a way to rip everything out from under ya'. Undermine everything we've done, everything we stand for… And it all started all those years ago when he…"
Her blood-red eyes immediately darted back to that old photo. The rage and sorrow within them building up, again. Never forgetting. Unable to forget. Not wishing to forget.
Ashe had been so embroiled that she was slightly surprised when a big metal hand placed a full, unopened bottle of whiskey next to her almost empty one. She looked up to see B.O.B. looking down at her with green, beady eyes. Ashe nodded in appreciation and got to work emptying the next bottle. She quickly downed another glass of whiskey with her eyes closed and only felt the burning a little easier. But as soon as she opened her eyes they landed on the photo, again.
Her hand tightened into a fist for a moment before reaching over and grabbing the cigarette, again.
"Goodsprings… So, that means they know Overwatch, then. Right?" she questioned, looking over her shoulder. "If all that fuss over the news meant anything."
They said nothing to each other as Ashe took another drag from her cigarette and puffed out another cloud. Then, she stood up, taking the bottle with her.
"Come on, B.O.B.," she said, cigarette in mouth. "We've got business to attend to."
Ashe walked through the Deadlock Gang's home, through wide-open halls and corridors built out of stone, concrete, and metal. Their "hideout" could be more aptly described as a bunker, long abandoned before her gang occupied it years ago. She navigated the facility with ease despite going through a bottle of whiskey. Ashe fared better than much of her crew, seeing several of them drinking themselves halfway to death or trying other means to lift spirits. All of them greeting their boss and raising glasses/bottles to her. Ashe responding with simple nods. The bunker became slightly more decrepit and rundown as she made her way through the more unused parts of it, the lights a bit dimmer.
Ashe was taking another swig from her bottle when she heard a noise to her left. Pausing for a moment, she cast a glance to B.O.B. and told him to stay before walking over to the corner where she heard the noise. Squeezing past a few crates she eventually got to a secluded corner of their home and found one of her men sitting on a box. He was donned in all white leather chaps and vest with a matching metal helmet resting on the floor next to him. He wasn't able to notice Ashe walking up to him as he was hunched over and sobbing into his hands as a holoimage showing him and two other men in similar outfits posing together in front of a ransacked security truck was before him. Two other helmets were next to his, both covered in blood and one with a .308 caliber-sized bullet hole in it.
Ashe didn't say anything as she stepped forward and placed a hand on his shoulder, making him gasp in surprise and pause his sobbing. Looking up at her with bloodshot eyes and realizing who it was, he just nodded to her before turning his head back to stare at the holoimage, still sobbing a little. While the hand on his shoulder was uncharacteristically gentle, the other hand on the shoulder tightly gripped the neck of the bottle. The skin of her knuckles getting even paler. Her face barely registered what she felt as she blankly stared down at him and what he lost.
Eventually, she let go of his shoulder and turned to give him space but left the whiskey with him. B.O.B. was still where she left him, waiting, and they resumed walking to where they were going.
Another minute of silent walking passed, and they reached a collection of rooms that served little purpose for the Deadlocks until now. Producing a key, she approached one of the rooms that had a large lock and chain over the handles of a sliding-gate door. She unlocked it and gripped on the door handles to slide it over, B.O.B. handling the other door. What little light there was in this section spilled over into the desolate room and faintly shined over their three captives, Boone, Veronica, and Parmley, all of them still gagged and bound. Ashe regarded all of them with disdain, her red eyes hovering over all of them.
The smoke from the train wreckage hadn't even cleared as McCree laid flat on his stomach on one of the many cliff edges overlooking the diner, using a pair of binoculars to survey the damage on the other side. The Cowboy scanned over train carts scattered across the old road, the longer he looked the more his canines grinded the butt of his cigar. Trying to find any trace of the perpetrators of this daring heist in the middle of nowhere. Only spotting dead bodies, wrecked bikes, and Federal Agents swarming the site. McCree barely feeling the Arizona Sun bearing down on him.
Nathan peered through the advanced scope of his Karabiner. His vision focused on what seemed to be the remains of an old truck crushed under a ton of train parts.
"Missed the dot by a few minutes…" Jesse growled, still cursing himself. "Always prided being on-time, but never when it counts. Had a script written out and everything."
Nathan looked at him, not saying a word.
"And we still need that cargo, but they took it."
"Not without a fight, it seems."
Nathan zoomed in on the numerous dead bodies that riddled the little canyon side. Several gang members decorating the old road with either bullet holes in them or missing parts of their limbs. One even had the front side of his face missing. Whoever fought back wasn't going to give the Deadlocks the time of day, he thought.
But looking at the old, long road, one he's traveled somewhere else, made a chill crawl up his back. The Arizona Sun making him a little comfortable a second later.
"Could this be Morrison and Amari?" Nathan asked.
"I'd expect a lot more bodies," their long-time colleague remarked.
Nathan scoffed. He holstered his bolt-action before slowly sliding down the incline of the cliff edge, sand and dirt grinding into his desert-stricken boots. He reached the flat bottom with a grunt and walked over to the truck. Removing his helmet and placing it atop the hood, Nathan swiftly grabbed a cigarette and wrapped his lips around it. Igniting the tip with his engraved lighter, he snaps it shut but stares at the little flame box in his hands. Instantly thinking of its previous owner and the effort it took to find him. Following a trail of breadcrumbs, the lighter being one of them. His grip tightened around it while the cigarette in his mouth kept burning.
Jesse came down from the cliff and walked up to the truck. Spitting bits of tobacco from his teeth.
"What now?" Nathan asked, puffing smoke to alleviate the complication.
"Now, we look for 'em. And I've got a hunch of where they'll be," Jesse answered, adjusting his hat.
"You should. You ran with them."
"Used to, don't forget that. Still, things might be a bit different ever since I've left, and I don't want it to be sundown when we come across those surprises. Let's get a move on."
Jesse opened the driver's seat and climbed in, turning the truck's ignition on. However, Nathan didn't join him as he stood near a cliff edge and looked at the horizon. Looking at how wide the expanse was, hot empty it looked beyond the gorge. How far away every place he knew seemed, on this world and his. He couldn't speak for its entirety, but America didn't look different from up there. The foreign familiarity eating at him. It made him want to go home. He pulled out his cellphone and looked at the screen. He didn't receive another message from Hana since the first – reception was shit. Jesse's words about his old "family" echoed in Nathan's mind.
"Hey! What's the holdup?"
Nathan looked over his shoulder, not casting so much of a frown as tobacco smoke rose from his lips. He looked back towards the canyons with the old roads.
"Nothing," Nathan said, but he had to admit, it was strange being back in America.
Boone elicited a muffled curse as he was shoved forward, feeling at least one gun-barrel aimed on him. The Sniper's greatest assets – his eyes – were blindfolded and he had to be steered towards wherever they were leading him every other second. His legs weren't bound anymore but his hands still were, and the gag over his mouth only helped further fuel his vexation. Regardless of where his captors were leading him and what they had planned, his main concern was the well-being of his friends.
It didn't take long for Boone to feel the air and light over his blindfold change, before being manhandled and brought over to a spot in the new room. He heard something scrape across the floor before getting kneed in the back of his leg and falling onto a chair. Once properly seated, both his blindfold and gag were undone. The Sniper's eyes quickly adjusted to the new change in scenery and was almost surprised where he found himself: a cozy looking lounge area complete with soft-red walls and wooden paneling, complimented by a bar and cushiony furniture. Boone looked down to see the chair he was sitting on wasn't bad either; A red leather cushion seat that comfortably gave way to his body. Even then, the lounge was anything but welcoming as sitting across the worn, nice-looking wooden dining table from him was the boss of the Deadlocks, squared and leaning forward onto the table. Her lips curled into a smile that barely hid her contempt for him but tried to feign a sense of security, of trusting. Boone spotted it immediately.
"Untie his hands, please," she ordered the men who escorted him in. "Ain't no way to treat a guest."
After doing what they were told, Ashe told them to leave the room. This confused Boone as he rubbed his wrists, wondering why she'd want to be left alone seemingly unarmed with him. Gradual stomping and B.O.B. coming into view from behind answered him, the imposing omnic carrying a silver platter with a fine china tea set. B.O.B. gingerly set the platter down in the middle of the table, poured the teapot's contents into both cups, and handed Ashe her cup.
"Thank you, B.O.B.," she expressed gratitude, daintily holding the cup in one hand and the small plate in the other. Closing her eyes as she took a sip.
Boone glared at her while she enjoyed her tea before his cup was offered to him, looking down at the steaming drink and up at the omnic serving it to him. He took it into his hands, giving the subtlest nod of thanks to the butler. However, he regarded the fine china suspiciously, considering taking a sip of its contents before just setting it down gently in front of him. It was all alien to him.
"What's your name?" He suddenly heard his hostess ask, looking up from his tea to see Ashe resting her head on her hands. That damn smile back on her face.
Boone's response was a scowl. Talking was always better suited for his traveling partners, especially for bandits. He usually didn't have the opportunity to get up close with bandits; They usually died before they ever saw him.
"Honey," Ashe began to lecture. "If a host brings out their fine china for you, offers a cup of tea, and brings you to a nice establishment, the least you can do is give them your name. Of course, forgoing everything that transpired up to that point, but… Can't blame a girl for trying, right?"
Boone only narrowed his eyes.
"At least take the hat off when you're indoors."
"It stays on."
Ashe looked up, not expecting a response so soon, but her expression was more elated than disrespected. "Oh, good. You can still talk. Always figured you might be a better sharpshooter than conversationalist." She then placed her hands on the table and leaned forward a bit. "But not better than me."
Boone scoffed, not wanting to dignify her with more words. Ashe was amused but was going to get tired of this game real soon.
"I'll make this easy for you, then. I want you to tell me all you know about Overwatch, and I'll let your friends off easy. There, simple," she finished her proposition and leaned back into her chair.
Boone snapped his eyes to her, maintaining his scowl. As Ashe noted his reaction, expecting him to start deflecting her inquiries about Overwatch, ask how she even knows they're with Overwatch, and of course, why she wants to know about Overwatch. Wasn't the first time she's had to interrogate someone for getting back at those who've wronged her, but this was more than some petty feud with a rival gang. This was more than personal for her.
"You're shit out of luck, then," Boone remarked, snapping her back to reality.
Her brow furrowed. "Pardon?"
"I barely know anything. I just got here."
She expected the first sentence, or something along those lines, but the follow-up confused her.
"What do you mean you 'just got here'? The hell's that supposed to mean?"
"Exactly as I said it."
"Then why the hell did I hear about my boys in Goodsprings getting uprooted by a trio with the same weapons and gear as you guys? The same trio that got away from the Feds with supposed help from Overwatch? Am I supposed to believe that wasn't you lot?"
"It was."
Ashe blinked at his honesty.
"What?"
"That was us. And I think they were Overwatch. But I have no goddamn clue where they are, now. Probably dead, under that bridge you wrecked," Boone clarified, still stoic.
"Why'd you kill my boys, then?"
"They got in our way."
Ashe was seething the moment he said that, silently infuriated by how he kept addressing her with that cold stare. That and the beret definitely made him ex-military. She kept her composure for the sake of this interrogation, but the subject of Overwatch started to give way to the subject of them.
"In the way of what?" Ashe questioned, her red eyes narrowing into focus.
Boone didn't want to play by her rules as much as she didn't want to play by his, and he was sure him still being honest would earn her ire, regardless. But he needed to take care about what he said, given Nathan did seem to be a part of this "New Overwatch".
"Finding our friend," he answered, not bothering to elaborate.
"…Your friend?" Ashe parroted him, her brow furrowing more.
"Yeah."
Ashe forgot to be angry while she pondered over his response and supposed reason for why he and his friends were tearing apart Route 66 from Nevada to Arizona. In the back of her mind, she had hoped these trio were some Overwatch hit squad sent to Deadlock Gorge to clean up what remained of the Deadlock Gang, years after they failed the first time. She had hoped her moment of revenge would come to her, so she would face it. Nowadays, no one had a good reason to venture onto these old roads and into Deadlock Gorge unless they wanted to get shot at. And this was all for a friend… That made her think.
"So, you come all this way, kill a bunch of my men, and come into Deadlock territory… Because you're looking for a friend?" she questioned in more earnest than she expected.
"He's worth it," Boone responded with missing a beat.
She couldn't lie to herself, if he was telling the truth she gained a sliver of respect for him and possibly the others if that was their plan. Silently admiring how they tore across the desert finding someone they care about. Shame they were on opposite sides.
"Is he with Overwatch, then?" Ashe asked, getting back on track.
"I dunno, that's what we're trying to figure out," Boone decided to lie.
"Who is he? What's his name?"
"Why would you want to know?"
"If y'all went through all this effort just to find him, that means he's very, very important. And if he's working with Overwatch, he sounds like someone I'd want to meet."
Boone's expression hardly changed during their conversation, but she saw it finally crack. She saw the slightest hint of a smile from this hardass.
"You'll regret that the second you meet him," Boone smirked.
It took a couple more hours of driving across the old route to reach what Jesse had described to be "the place" they would find his old associates. It was sundown when they left their truck a safe distance away from the hideout and Jesse led Nathan to one of the many rocky towers of Deadlock Gorge. Once they reached the peak of the structure, they both got on their bellies and crawled over to the edge overlooking the stretch of road they didn't cross, yet.
In their view was the remnants of a small town, consisting of not much but an old saloon, a derelict motel, and a closed service station. However, the road led to a large metal door that was carved into the side of one of the mountains. Multiple hoverbikes and other vehicles were parked near the large door, and several guards were posted outside. Jesse and Nathan lay there, observing the old town and watching the inhabitants. So, far, none of the people below were aware of their presence. The sun was fully gone when the ex-member spoke up.
"Eyup, same 'ol spot," McCree sighed as he looked through binoculars. "Wonder if it looks the same inside."
"Hmm," was Nathan's reply.
That response made Jesse look away from the binoculars and to Nathan, unable to read his expression as he kept his gaze forward. The Waster was quieter than usual ever since they had left Korea, even for someone like him, and the silence had only grown the longer they were in America. The last "real" conversation they've had being the one back at the tunnel before it nearly collapsed on them. He couldn't help but notice the way Nathan just blankly stared out of the window as they drove, as if there was something beyond the scenery he was interested in. Jesse wouldn't admit it openly, but he felt sorry for Nathan and what he's been through. Been away from his home for this long, which Jesse could relate to, but not in the way of Nathan's experience. Wondering how he lasted this long.
"Hey, are you alright?" McCree asked.
He watched Nathan's head turn slightly to him, but not directly face him. He hesitated before responding. "I'm fine."
"You've been quiet."
"I usually am."
"No, you're not."
Jesse couldn't see it, but Nathan shut his eyes for a moment in frustration.
"Look, partner," Nathan sighed. "I appreciate the concern, but right now, I think we need to worry about getting what we need from your old associates. In whatever way we can."
"You've never even asked what we're after," McCree noted. "You're usually thorough with your questions. Listen, I just need to be sure that you're willing to go through with this and don't need to sit it out back at the truck. Especially since this might be a delicate situation."
Even under that helmet, Nathan looked indignant. "I offered to come along, didn't I? Let me uphold my end of the bargain, so we can all go back home."
McCree wanted to press further, but they were starting to burn moonlight. He leered at him for a moment before nodding to the hideout.
"If you're so sure, cover my ass when I walk down there. And don't shoot anyone! I still wanna try to resolve this as peacefully as I can."
"With them?" the Courier scoffed.
"Of course."
"You said it yourself, it's been a long time since you've considered them 'family'."
"But there's still history there. Enough history to take this gamble. Try to see that, Brin."
Nathan's red eyes followed Jesse and stared at the back of his red poncho as he descended the rock. As soon as he was out of sight, Nathan growled and turned his gaze back to the town. Centering his eyes on that big door. Nathan got up and sneaked over to rock just to his right and perched himself behind it, reaching behind and summoning his Karabiner to his hand. Cycling the bolt and shouldering the rifle, he crouched there and kept it focused on the door. Waiting for McCree to walk over there and start his negotiations… Or fail.
The conversations echoing.
Ashe had Boone unceremoniously gagged and bound, quickly escorted out of the lounger without so much as taking a sip from his tea. Despite his behavior, he left without so much as a scratch.
The man with the red beret and sharp, cold eyes was quick to lock things up when Ashe started to ask more sensitive questions, but she didn't mind at all. She knew she wasn't going to get far with someone like him, more proficient at sniping than talking. He was forthcoming with information, but not the "right" information, and certainly not in a way that left her satisfied. If anything, they actually confused her and only garnered more questions regarding this band of people. Questions that she would save up for the next one in line.
"Bring in the girl," Ashe ordered as she dumped the cold tea Boone didn't drink.
Veronica was brought into the lounge and seated onto the same chair; her white coat dirtier. Released from her gag and bonds, Veronica was surprised by her surroundings. Her eyes confronted Ashe's, and while she lacked her Sniper friend's stoicism, she made up for it in the expressive, demeaning looks she automatically gave upon sight. That amused Ashe, already expecting this conversation to be much more interesting than the last one.
"What do you want, now?" Veronica questioned, taking the initiative, sounding more irritated than threatened.
"Tea?" Ashe offered but poured the contents into her cup regardless of her response.
Veronica eyed the cup incredulously. "Thank you… But no thanks."
"Suit yourself, darlin'," Ashe nodded, pouring herself another cup of tea.
"You don't seem my type, so, don't call me 'darlin', please."
"Cute names for you are going to be the least of your concerns once I start getting after what I really want: Answers. To which you or your friends are going to provide, darlin'."
Veronica watched Ashe sip her tea, hoping her expression didn't betray the sudden jump she felt in her chest. Her mind racing about the questions. Even if she did want to relinquish information, she was afraid telling the actual truth would sooner get her thrown down the gorge than lying. And the sparse knowledge she had about this new world wouldn't help, either.
"First things first, who the hell are you?" Ashe began, her expression equally quizzical and foreboding.
"Name's Veronica," she said, wincing internally.
"Pretty name, but that wasn't what I meant. Who exactly are you – all of you – and what are you doing in Deadlock Gorge?"
Veronica already didn't like her next response. "We're just travelers, trying to get somewhere."
"I got that the first time we chatted, but why? And why does it involve Overwatch, Veronica?"
She opened her mouth to respond but choked up the last second, redirecting her gaze to the steaming teacup in front of her. With what little she learned about Overwatch she was certain present company weren't fans of them.
Ashe smiled at her reaction. "I heard all about it, remember? From my boys and the news. You were there when we tagged ya'."
Veronica looked up again, wishing Nathan was here doing the talking, instead. Eyeing the big omnic standing beside her interrogator.
"Well?" Ashe grew impatient.
"I don't know anything about Overwatch," Veronica clarified, looking Ashe in the eyes.
"Like hell you don't-"
"But we were traveling with Overwatch in the hopes that they would help us find our friend. Or get to him, at least."
Her interrogator paused and looked at her, Veronica unsure if the expression she currently wore was one of growing intrigue or annoyance. Or both.
Ashe took another sip from her tea before she leaned back and reached for something out of Veronica's view. Sounding like she was rummaging through a bag filled with junk. The ex-Scribe's heart jumped when she saw her pull out the Plasma Defender, one of many pieces of gear they had stored in the trailer bed and placed it beside her teacup.
"One reason I keep asking about Overwatch is because you have a lot of interesting things stored in that trailer bed of yours. Things that in all my years of stealing, selling, and buying military-grade hardware, have never seen," the Texan explained herself, picking up the Plasma Defender to examine it, finger off the trigger and muzzle pointed towards the ceiling. "I thought this was a toy, at first. Until one of my boys was fooling around with it and made a green, glowing hole in the wall. And the four walls after. Almost set the place on fire. Never seen an energy weapon like this."
She set the plasma weapon back down on the table, its muzzle pointed in the general vicinity of Veronica, who warily eyed the green bar of light on the side of its frame indicating it was loaded and charged.
"And don't even get me started on those suits of Power Armor that could barely fit in that truck," Ashe scoffed. "Looks like y'all are ready for the Second Omnic Crisis. So, that's another part to my question; Who is your friend?"
"Somebody important to me. To all of us," Veronica responded without hesitation.
"Is he really that important that you're all outfitted to go to war?"
"If being outfitted enough to takeover Hoover Dam means getting over anything that gets in our way of us finding him? Sure."
Veronica was starting to get defensive, slowly losing her cool by the line of questioning. Not slogging hundreds of miles across two dimensions to be questioned by a bandit. However, Ashe suddenly looked puzzled.
"'Hoover Dam'…? Takeover what? Water? Hoover Dam got blown to hell by the killbots in the Crisis," she said, eyeing Veronica on how she got what would be common knowledge wrong, her and B.O.B. trading glances.
"You know what I meant!" Veronica exclaimed but realized the slipup she had made. Already devising how to steer the conversation somewhere else, while also trying to devise a way to get out of here. "And why do you wanna know so much about our friend? Your concern is with us, isn't it?"
"Yeah, especially since you killed a lot of my men!" Ashe seethed, sitting up in her chair and leaning towards Veronica, her red eyes glinting in the light. "You should count yourself lucky I'm even bothering to be this courteous. Most gangs around here would have thrown your asses down the gorge the second you pulled the trigger. But truth be told, I'm impressed. Liberating an entire town from a contingent of my men, hauling ass all across the desert with the feds on your tail, to still fighting even when the chips were down here. And all of that just to find a friend. That takes some serious drive. Again, I almost find it admirable."
She gave a short laugh before her lips twisted into a snarl. She slowly got up from her seat, planted her hands firmly onto the table. One hand getting close to the Plasma Defender.
"And if you want to get out there, and keep finding that friend of yours, tell me; Who is he? And what does he have to do with Overwatch?" Ashe questioned once again.
The leader of the infamous Deadlock Gang loomed over Veronica, her makeup betraying the fury building up inside of her, apart from red eyes. Veronica, smart enough to know the hand she was dealt was unfortunate, didn't see much options other than cooperating and stalling. But the ex-Scribe steeled herself and wasn't afraid to look Ashe in the eyes. Sizing her up and already calculating a good angle for a sucker punch to her jaw.
Unfazed, Veronica looked down and carefully lifted the teacup and tiny plate up to her chest. "I can tell you one thing," she said, taking a sip of the tea with a sigh. "He's definitely not the kind of man you would want to meet as a bandit."
Arizona's air became rather cold after the sunset, but Nathan steadfast maintained his position behind his rock overlooking the town. He watched lights flicker on, mainly in the old saloon, and gang members getting ready to enjoy their night. Unaware they were being watched through his scope.
The skin on his arms were starting to feel a bit chilly without his duster to keep him warm, Nathan still trying to get used to the feeling. He steeled himself wondering where McCree was and what he was even going to do once he reached the bottom.
Nathan felt some blood rush through his arms once he spotted the red poncho strolling through the middle of the street, his spurred boots treading the yellow line. There was a moment where McCree looked over his shoulder and nodded, Nathan seeing the end of his cigar through the darkness. Nathan rolled his shoulder and reaffirmed his grip on the rifle.
Jesse puffed out a cloud as he kept walking towards the large, metal door. None of the gang members outside had even noticed him walking in the night until the sentries outside the door saw him. They squinted in the moonlight before finally seeing his red poncho. Both guards immediately raising their guns up.
"What the-!? It's-"
"Easy, boys," McCree said as he slowly raised his hands up.
The guards could barely believe their eyes, but it didn't stop them from being angry.
"What are you doing here?! WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING HERE?!"
"You got a lot of nerve, you sonofabitch!"
McCree maintained his calm smirk. "Easy… I ain't here to cause too much trouble. I just wanna talk…"
The guards exchanged nervous glances with each other. The commotion started to attract other gang members, a few still sober enough to pull out their guns and train it on McCree. The situation quickly turning into a heavily lop-sided standoff.
Nathan's heartbeat was steady as he watched the scene unfold, though, he could feel his muscles tensing slightly and his breathing shallow as his eye twitched to all the targets walking into view. Their clothing easily reminded him of raiders and bandits, many a finger and ear he's sliced off from people like them. Weeding out who would be the first target among them once everything went south. At least, he hoped. He didn't notice the cold, anymore.
"I might as well put a goddamn bullet in ya', right now!" one guard exclaimed, Nathan's crosshairs hovering over him.
"Yeah, you, and every other person in this gorge, but I can think of one person who would wanna get the first shot in." McCree's smile faded as his face hardened. "Ashe."
The door guards' aggression lapsed once he said their boss' name, exchanging more nervous glances.
"You know she isn't patient," McCree reminded them, slowly letting his arms down and hooking his thumbs onto his belt.
One of them looked back and forth between the other guard and McCree, before letting out a disgruntled hiss and running inside through another opening. Now, everyone waited and kept their sights trained on the outcast come home. The man in the red poncho looked calm, but with a reasonable placement of his shooting arm near his holster.
The man in black armor became a watchful eye over his partner. Nathan entertained taking the head off the door guard that decided to stay put, taking them by surprise and instigating the fight quicker than following McCree's lead. They then would only be forced to take the rest of the fight inside and kill them one by one as they made their way through the tunnel. Nathan imagining himself ravage the inside until they find what they – or what McCree – were looking for and getting back so he can drink and sleep in peace, again. The Courier's mind going blank with nothing but finishing the mission, whatever it took.
The cold air becoming secondary.
Ashe walked out of the lounge, tired and hungry, but looked on in delight as she watched Veronica get dragged away by her hands with some new bruises on her face. Her smile caused her cheek to sting as she had a bruise of her own, gifted to her by the interrogatee who was able to get one good shot in before B.O.B. threw her against the wall. But her elation passed when Veronica was out of sight and remembered how disappointing her interrogation was, as well.
"So, boss, how'd it go?" one of her men that had waited outside asked.
"Poorly," Ashe responded, wincing as she touched her reddening cheek. "Damn girl had no problem running my ear off about the specs of their hardware but might as well be a box of rocks when it comes to anything else. Even Overwatch. 'Course, she probably knows more than she lets on. Damn good right hook, though."
"What're we gonna do with 'em, now?"
Ashe looked at her subordinate before sighing. "Hand 'em off to Talon, probably. Throw 'em in as a bonus in our transaction, tomorrow."
"They only asked for that weird crate, though."
"They might be more than willing to take those three off our hands once I tell them the news. I'd imagine they would have more capable people for extracting information. I just did it for the hell of it."
She chuckled as she pulled out a pack of cigarettes and brought one to her lips. But she wouldn't be able to light it as one of her men came down the tunnel screaming her name.
"Ashe! Ashe! We got trouble!"
"What is it? The Feds?" she asked, annoyed about her disturbed break.
"It's McCree!"
The stinging on her cheek disappeared. Her red eyes lit up and stared at him.
"What?" she uttered.
"I-Its him…"
Anger boiled inside of her, as well as several questions, but she was barely in the mood to be inquisitive, anymore.
"B.O.B! With me!"
Nathan was almost broken out of his trance when he saw the metal door tremble, parting slightly at first, before the mechanisms pulled it apart slowly. Light flooded out, showering the road and everyone standing on or near it in an almost pale glow. McCree winced slightly at the bright light but stood his ground as it opened fully with a hefty thud. Nathan's vision narrowed when he could see a silhouette materializing from the light. Narrowed even further when there was another, larger silhouette shadowing the other. His trigger finger twitching.
Ashe and B.O.B. stepped outside, several more men beside them, and stopped just short of the doorway. Stopping about a dozen yards from their unwanted visitor. Ashe didn't have time to dress up properly but held her ornate lever-action in her hands. That was the first thing Nathan eyed before focusing the reticle on her head. He let out a confused grunt when he noticed the unnatural color of her eyes; Blood red. The Courier snarled.
"Jesse McCree…" the Deadlock co-founder said with a cold smile. "It's been a while. You'd promise you'd write."
"Well, Ashe." McCree took the half-spent cigar from his mouth and threw it to the road, grinding it under his boot. "I've been kinda busy."
"So, I've heard. Joined up with your old gang, huh? Figures."
"Whatever you heard don't concern us, right now."
"It's just awful convenient, you showin' up tonight."
"Yeah… You've never been one to shy away from a good tip."
"What're you on about?"
McCree frowned at Ashe, taking a good long look at her eyes. Been a while since he's stared into them. Been a while since she's stared into his. Meanwhile, Nathan was on them both like a hawk. "Come on, come on…" he hissed, dominant eye glued to his scope.
"Ashe, I know you took something from your score. The egg-shaped crate. You know it. I want it."
Ashe's eyes widened for a moment. Both Jesse and Nathan noticed.
"Just that crate?" she questioned, suspiciously perking an eyebrow.
"Yeah… Everything else is yours." McCree relented, unaware there was more than ordinance they had back there.
Ashe stood there with her rifle over her shoulder and posse surrounding her. She nodded to B.O.B. who turned around and ran back inside the tunnel. Leaving every remaining participant of the standoff there in the night with moon hanging high and bright.
Almost a minute had passed, and Nathan was starting to get antsy. They were outnumbered and Jesse was surrounded. He could still get the drop on them. Even the odds, a little. Obviously, giving the first bullet to the head honcho. He kept glancing at his Pip-Boy's watch. It was 11:55 P.M.
'History… What a load of shit.' The Courier shook his head, huffing in frustration. 'What is that worth, nowadays? Just get this done with, dammit!'
He shook his head, again, trying to focus. Trying to not let the blood red of her eyes get to him. Feeling the Arizona air get cold on his skin, again. Always tired.
'Goddammit…'
Finally, B.O.B. returned, lugging a large, egg-shaped crate over his shoulder. He gently placed it on the ground next to Ashe, and with a nod from her, pressed a button near the center. The crate's midsection popped up before sliding back and letting a cloud of mist spill out. Ashe and B.O.B. looked inside, the former subtly surprised while the latter blinked.
"What is it?" she snapped, side-eyeing McCree.
"None of your business," McCree snapped back.
Ashe scoffed, gazing to the ground as she swung her rifle off her shoulder and operated the lever, chambering a round.
"McCree, it's been a very long day," Ashe snarled, her words dripping venom. "And I don't want to have you to be on my list of things to worry about."
Even McCree was caught off-guard by her sudden change in tone, wondering if the wreckage they came across had anything to do with it. Nonetheless, he sighed, "Ashe, it doesn't always have to be this way."
"Since you ran out on us… It does."
McCree let out another sigh but let his shooting hand hang close to his holster. The time for talk passed. "So, it seems."
The night fell deftly quiet, the wind passing through Deadlock Gorge accompanying them now. Ashe, B.O.B., and a dozen or so gang members surrounding the lone gunslinger in the red poncho, letting cigar smoke waft around him. They all silently waited for the other to make the first move, to get time to wind up, again.
It was 11:59 P.M. on his Pip-Boy now. Nathan sat perched, getting impatient but keeping his sights trained on Ashe. Focused on nothing else but getting ready to cull another bandit.
His focus almost failed him when he heard scraping dirt behind him and watched as the butt of a rifle slammed into his face and tried to knock him out.
Tried.
Everyone at ground level were shaken out of their standoff as a series of gunshots quickly perforated the air, disturbing the peaceful night. Then, followed by howling screams.
One of the gang members that scaled the rock to get to the vantage point was on his back, dazed and lurching forward. He watched in horror as his partner was held in a chokehold in one arm and getting stabbed repeatedly in his chest and stomach by a man in black armor. Barely able to see him against the night
"Arrghhh! Agh!" his colleague tried to scream out, holding out his hand but getting weaker with every new wound.
After giving him half-a-dozen more wounds, the Courier roared as he retracted his right hand and punched the poor man to the dirt, knocking him out for good. He cast his gaze up to the other, who was on the ground and trying to scramble away from the large man covered in blood. The Courier let out another roar as he bounded over to him.
His victim screamed as he reached to his revolver. "Oh, God! Agghh! No! Please, nooooo!"
Everyone on the ground jumped as more gunshots went off in the distance, their eyes landing on an overlook a straight shot from the door. Ashe and McCree watched in shock as a large silhouette appeared against the night sky and threw something off the cliff.
"Aaaaahhhhhhhhh!" the man yelled out before the impact of him hitting the ground echoed across the gorge.
Their eyes casting back up at the large silhouette, seeing it stand tall over the cliff edge. There were no discernible features of the figure in the dark, other than two glowing, red eyes. Ashe brought her rifle up to aim at the figure before a sudden flash of light from it made B.O.B. grab her behind him and the head of a man next to her explode in a pink mist. Covering her face.
McCree gritted as he pulled out his revolver and took out two of the closest gang members next to him before running for cover. Soon, Deadlock Gorge erupted into gunfire.
The Courier's rage did little to hamper his shooting as he popped off targets with ease, one for every round until running empty. He yanked back the bolt and retrieved five rounds from his bandolier belt, his blood-stained hand clicking them into his rifle. Hearing bullets whiz by him and McCree's revolver sound off below him. Locking the bolt into battery, he resumed firing and taking down more thugs, his red eyes providing clear vision. He could see and hear the gunshots popping off at him. When he emptied his rifle again, there a pause which prompted B.O.B. and Ashe to come out of cover and start firing at his silhouette. He still quickly loaded another volley of rounds into his rifle and waited for them to stop so he could return fire, but he heard yelling and footsteps coming up the trail from behind, the same one his first two victims used.
The Courier growled as he bolted from cover and ran towards the trail. As soon as he reached it, he intercepted the gang member taking point, and promptly slammed into him, making him fall of a cliff. The Courier swiftly twirled around, simultaneously pulling out his sidearm, and began firing on the men that were following. Quick enough to take advantage of their confusion and kill several of them. Those that were at the back and weren't immediately killed scrambled back to the beginning of the trail, but the Courier advanced, firing the rest of his pistol's mag in one hand as he held his Karabiner in the other. When the slide locked back, he holstered the pistol and switched to his rifle, finishing of the stragglers that weren't fast enough. When there weren't any more on the trail, he holstered the Karabiner and retrieved All-American.
He got to the bottom of the trail and was immediately embroiled in the old town's madness. Quickly killing several men that were waiting for him. Hearing a lot of gunshots echo on the other side of the town, he ran towards the saloon to cut through it. He ran in and saw three men taking cover behind a doorway on the opposite side of the room. They saw him, but before they could get their guns on him a flashbang rolled through the doorway and blinded everyone but the Courier. Jesse McCree rolled into the room and fanned his hammer, one bullet for each of them. He then snapped his revolver to Nathan before realizing who it was. Nathan saw movement in the corner of his eyes and snapped his carbine to the bar, Jesse following him but dipping his revovler when they saw it was a terrified barmaid taking cover. Her ears were ringing but she could still see, trembling at the sight of the Courier.
"Pardon us, ma'am," Jesse said with a tip of his hat.
Wood splintering from one of the walls made them run to separate doorways and take cover next to them. Watching their angles as best they could.
"What the hell happened, Brin?!" McCree yelled to him, firing shots outside the door.
"Fuckers snuck up on me, I acted accordingly," Brin hissed back, his carbine scanning the area out his doorway.
"Maybe just try shooting 'em instead of chucking them off a mountain? Christ, you looked like the devil incarnate."
"We'll need the devil if we're gonna get what we want. Now, come on! You lead the way!"
McCree glared at Brin before cursing under his breath. Reloading his revolver. "Goddammit…"
The sound of a pump-action caught Jesse's attention and he yelled as he duck and rolled away from a blast of buckshot rupturing the wall. Nathan twirled and double-tapped the barmaid, who had a shotgun hidden away, and sent her crashing into the shelves of drinks behind her. He held the muzzle on her for another moment before he looked over to where McCree was, taking cover behind an upended pool table. Jesse grabbed his Stetson and placed it back on his head, nodding to Nathan he was fine.
After he regained his bearing, the men quickly realized that the air outside of the saloon had gotten quiet. Hearing nothing, Nathan got away from the doors and got closer to the middle of the room with Jesse. He upended the remaining pool table and took cover behind it, too. They both began to wait, their eyes peered to the opening.
"You know these make shit cover, right?" Nathan remarked about the pool tables.
"I know," Jesse agreed, but held fast.
They waited several more moments, wondering where all the gunfire went. Jesse waited with apprehension, while Nathan's blood boiled. The dark doorways staring at them.
A shrill voice then pierced the night.
"McCree! McCreeeeeeee!" Elizabeth Caledonia "Calamity" Ashe screamed. "You've wronged me! You've wronged me ever since you left all those years ago! And you come back after all these years to take something from me!"
"It didn't belong to you, either, Ashe!" McCree yelled.
"Why? Why did you leave?!"
Nathan looked at Jesse for a moment, Jesse frowning as he broke his gaze.
"I made a choice, Ashe!" he responded. "Overwatch nabbed me and gave me two options: rot for what I done or makes amends. I made the wiser decision. You should've followed!"
"You abandoned the only family you've ever had! We were all heartbroken when you left. And we never recovered from that day. Never!"
"Family?" McCree said aloud, his frown getting harder. "Ashe… We were kids… Doing bad things just to survive. Hardly no place for a family. Besides, I already found my own."
Although they couldn't see her, they knew they struck a nerve when a long silence followed after what he said. Nathan casting another glance to Jesse.
"Do you have any more EMP grenades?" Jesse whispered, casting a worried glance to him.
"What? No," Nathan answered. "I used up what I brought with me in Russia."
"Dammit. B.O.B.'s gonna be a lot harder to take down."
"Who the fuck's 'B.O.B.'?"
Their conversation was interrupted.
"Overwatch? They're your family, now?!" Ashe screeched, feeling the blood boiling in her words. "Criminals?! Just like we used to be!"
"Still done more good than you've dreamed about."
"Oh, so I suppose that psycho who threw my men off a cliff is a part of your family, too?!"
McCree was about to speak up to defend himself, but Nathan snapped. "Fuck you, Ashe!" He shot at her, not holding back vulgarity.
"And who the hell are you supposed to be?!" She demanded.
"A fool whose found himself surrounded by even bigger fools in the desert!"
"You show some goddamn respect, you sonofa-!"
"What kinda $10 name is 'Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe', anyway? That's the prettiest thing about you. The only pretty thing about you! But I wouldn't pay a goddamn cent for a minute of your time!"
"McCree… Tell him to shut up or I will-!"
"What's with the getup, too? And the rifle? I thought Jesse was bad, but you look like you were regurgitated out of a dime novel. And gold's a terrible metal for guns. I wouldn't use that to shoot varmints when I get drunk!"
When he ducked down into cover, Jesse shot him the most baffled and irritated look. "Jesus Christ, Brin," he muttered.
Nathan looked back, breathing heavily. "If you thought she would've made this easy, regardless, you-"
"I know she wouldn't," Jesse growled. "She's just stalling, like usual."
"Stalling for what?"
The sound of clicking metal made them point their guns back up, barely seeing any light outside. However, a little flame entered their view and the building when it was thrown in from one of the doors. Their eyes darted to a bundle of dynamite from Ashe, with a long fuse quickly burning up.
Nathan and Jesse turned and ran towards the bar. They hopped over, ignoring the dead barmaid, and hugged to their cover as they listened to the fuse fizzle. The bundle elicited a shrill ringing before exploding into a ball of fire, vaporizing and throwing furniture into the air. All the glass inside, including the bottles, shattered, and the two men were showered in both glass and alcohol. Fortunately, they were still unscathed aside from having their insides feel a bit stirred. Nathan was the first one to peek over the bar, seeing all the lights were blown out and practically everything wooden was on fire. He wiped liquor from his helmet's eyes as he checked on McCree, still alive but having worse luck with his eyes.
"Gah, I can barely see!" the Gunslinger cursed as he rubbed face into his right forearm, blinking rapidly and showing they were red from the alcohol getting into them.
Nathan spotted Jesse's hat on the ground next to him, quickly grabbing it and pushing it into its owner. Jesse grabbed it, a bit startled, but muttered a thanks as he donned it. Meanwhile, the fire had gotten larger with the smoke becoming thicker. Although he wasn't starting to suffocate, yet, his breathing became shallowed the longer he stared at the fire, watching it slowly engulf the inside of the saloon. He felt his grip tighten around his rifle; his teeth grit even harder. A sucking feeling welling up inside of his chest.
For a moment, he could hear screaming.
"Brin!" he blinked, seeing Jesse yelling at him. Holding up a part of his poncho to his mouth. "Brin! Come on we need to-!"
"Get in there, B.O.B.!"
The opposite wall of the saloon exploded as B.O.B. crashed through the wood, unimpeded. The fire did little, as well, to impede the large omnic as he quickly closed the distance. Nathan could only let off a few shots with his carbine before B.O.B. trampled over the bar, splintering it down the middle, and was sent flying through the air by a large metal forearm. Nathan had a good view of the night sky for only a second until he came tumbling back down, bouncing on the hard, old concrete of the road outside, face down. He felt the pain, of course, but it quickly subsided as he opened his eyes and his began to snarl under his helmet. Feeling the rage build up especially as he heard a half dozen feet run up the road to him. As they got to him, he spotted the barmaid's pump-action shotgun had landed next to him, about a meter away. He waited for the gang members to get closer.
"Look! There he is!"
"Jesus Christ, he's a big bastard, isn't he? Look at all the blood…"
Before making any more comments, Nathan lunged at the shotgun, grabbing it with one hand and spinning around to blast the closest one with buckshot. As he fell to the ground, Nathan swiftly followed up getting his other arm on the pump and racked it, getting buckshot downrange. He emptied the weapon and killed most of the men that ran up to him with the exception of a straggler. The straggler tried to run, but Nathan caught up and swung the stock of the shotgun into the back of his head. He rammed the shotgun down onto his victim several more times, staining the synthetic stock with blood and hair. A gunshot made Nathan get off the man and run towards the service station just ahead of him. Pulling out his sidearm and firing wildly into the air where he felt he was getting shot from.
Nathan hugged his back to the walls of the service station. After sliding a fresh mag into his .45, he reached over his shoulder to summon All-American, but realized he didn't have it with him at all. He lost it when the big omnic crashed into the saloon and sent him tumbling. He looked down at the shotgun, fairly standard looking for a pump-action other than some shiny metal and glowing highlights on it. It was empty but served well as club for the time being. Sliding it over his back and locking it in the carbine's spot.
Her shrill voice interrupted his concentration, again, fueling his rage.
"We got McCree!"
Nathan's breath hitched. He slowly peeked around the corner. Amid a dozen corpses he had created were more members of the Deadlock Gang. A dozen rifles pointed in his general direction, surrounding their boss in the middle of it all. She was holding McCree by the neck and held a coach gun to his head. Her old friend was still conscious but was sporting a new black eye.
"Come out with your hands up!" Ashe commanded, eyes seething.
"No. Don't-!" McCree got interrupted again as Ashe tightened her grasp around his neck.
Nathan returned behind cover and rested the back of his head against the wall. He took a deep breath before deciding what to say.
"Ashe? Ms. Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe?" he called out.
"What?" she responded, frowning.
"Do you know who I am?"
There was silence when he asked. Nothing hanging in the air of Deadlock Gorge.
"I'm not going to repeat myself," the Courier growled. "Do you know who I am?"
"You're Overwatch. Just like Jesse, here."
"Yes, but who am I?"
There was more silence, but it wasn't as long before Nathan said something.
"I know news travels fast around this world. And all this Overwatch business seems very important, especially with a bygone era. I'd imagine outlaws, 'specially ones with a history with Overwatch would be interested in it."
"You're the 'Man in Black Armor', as they say." Ashe finally responded.
'Terrible nickname,' Nathan thought.
"But… I hear they're callin' you the 'Devil', now; 'The Devil of Overwatch'."
The Courier's brow twitched.
"Heard stories and reports about this tall man, with armor as black as coal and eyes as red as the Devil's. Reports of him doing… Obscene things all over the world. With a killcount to boot. Doing things that no one in the world, or Overwatch has ever seen. And unlike all the other 'personalities', you're always seen as a monster. Someone Overwatch would hunt down, not work with. A devil."
He took in her words, dissecting them. Recounting what he's done. Seems about right.
"Do you believe that, Ashe?" the Courier asked, strangely calm in his tone.
She was quiet, frowning and wondering what he was even getting at.
"Because, I assure you, Ms. Ashe," he continued without her input. "There are worse things about me that no one on this planet even knows. No one in Overwatch knows. Stories that would sooner make a man want to hang from his ceiling than want to know."
Ashe mouth became slightly agape, the ferocity on her face starting to fade the more he spoke. Several of her men looking around, equally as confused.
"I've seen so much, done so much, regret so much, but I'll keep seeing things through to the end. Drive forward. Drive through anything that gets in my way. And I didn't come here to die in a fucking desert!"
He summoned his Brush Gun, operating its lever.
"And I'm sorry, Ashe, but there would've been a time I would've talked things out. Seek an alternative solution to whatever… I went with. But now? I'm going to make sure I turn any trace of the Deadlock Gang into nothing but red, Arizona dust. Tear down everything you stand for, make it all forfeit. Rip out as much as I can until I'm as red as the devil, himself. Make the ground you stand on match the color of your eyes."
McCree forgot he was held in a vice as he stared ahead, the same expression that Ashe has on his face.
"And then… Get back on the road."
The Courier held up the Brush Gun, but a noise made him look up to see a figure hiding behind a corner of the station, peering through the garage door. This figure was whistling at him, covered in some sort of veil, and pointed at something on the road. Nathan looked and saw B.O.B. running right at him.
B.O.B. drove through the concrete wall of the station with almost as much ease as he did with the saloon and sent debris flying into the night. Shaking his head and blinking, he turned around and looked at the spot where Nathan was. Seeing a pile of rubble develop, the old station starting to collapse where he hit. He was going to pat his hand of dust when the Courier lunged up and latched onto his back, unscathed.
"B.O.B.!" Ashe screamed as she threw McCree to someone else and ran over to her butler.
"Raaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhh!" The Courier roared as B.O.B. spun and shook to get him off, the human holding tight.
The Courier pulled out his sidearm fired point-blank into the omnic's head. The rounds pinged off, but B.O.B. was getting disoriented and nearly crashed into several Deadlock members as he slammed into rock. B.O.B. lifted up one of his arms to the back of his head and activated the autocannons, but the human was strong enough to push the arm upward and veer the shots towards the sky instead.
"Goddammit, quit standing there and help him!" Ashe screamed as she shouldered her rifle and started firing at Nathan, trying to get a clear shot.
Several of her men tried to help, but the large omnic's sporadic movements as well as their own skills with shooting didn't help things. Most missed, trying to hit the large but surprisingly nimble target on B.O.B.'s back. At worst, they would hit B.O.B. himself, hoping his armor was strong enough to withstand.
"Don't shoot B.O.B.! Shoot the bastard!"
As his sidearm was proving fruitless, the Courier unsheathed his knife and jammed it into a nook in his neck, resulting in sparks. B.O.B. became wide-eyed and his efforts doubled. Finally, he grabbed the man with his other arm and threw him.
Unfortunately, the Courier collided with Ashe, and she was face-to-face with the bloody mask of the 'Devil of Overwatch'. All the bravado was gone in an instant as she felt one hand wrap around her throat and watched the other raise in the air with a knife. Her throat became free when one of her men tackled the Courier off her. She had a coughing fit and got to her feet to watch her savior getting stabbed a dozen times right next to her. After the Courier ripped his throat out, he snapped his head to her, but he turned and lifted up the body to soak up incoming gunshots. Carrying the body like a battering ram, he slammed into the closest thug and plunged the knife into his gut, making his victim seize and clutch at the hilt. Exchanging one meat-shield for another, he pulled out his sidearm to fire indiscriminately towards whoever. Another thug closed in and tackled the Courier to the ground, freeing the knife from his friend. They tumbled to the ground, but as soon as they stopped the Courier drove knife into his new victim, eliciting a sharp inhale. For some reason, he decided to savor this kill, twisting the knife slowly and watching how the man below him shook and clawed at his hands to be free. He could feel his breath warming his helmet before he leveled the pistol at his face and fired, splattering more blood onto him.
"Psst!"
His snarl was gone as he heard his helmet's radio go off, and he looked at what he had done before looking to his left and seeing that figure, again. Warning him of something coming. Nathan turned to see a white Route 66 sign coming straight for him, and the force was enough to nearly knock him unconscious. He flew a few yards and tumbled towards the cliff, rolling off it like dead weight. Falling down into the dark gorge.
Ashe leaned against a wooden post and stared at where she watched the man fall. She was breathing, hard, tenderly touching her neck where it was red. Eventually, she noticed that everyone else still alive was staring at her, sharing similar reactions to what just transpired. B.O.B. cast a shadow over her as he walked over, and she reached out and grabbed one of his big fingers.
"Somebody make sure that sonofabitch is dead," she said before turning and walking back to the tunnel, visibly shaken. "Round up everyone, we're leaving tomorrow morning for the deal."
