Chapter summary: Hanzo and Akande talk while Genji makes more work for Angela.

Sakazuki

The Pork Belly Pub on the outskirts of Gibraltar was, as the name would suggest, a popular hang-out for bounty hunters, wanted criminals, and general degenerates alike. Some would call it neutral ground, as any fighting inside in the pub would result in a swift expulsion, and a hard lesson in how serious the Pork Belly's clientele treated its rules. Thus, it was the perfect place for a meeting with a man who had recently broken out of a Numbani prison.

Soaked to the bone from the rain saturating the thin fabric of his cloak, Hanzo stole through the streets like a thief, furtive and always looking over his shoulder, into the darkness behind locked windows and within the shadows flitting about streetlamps. It took little more than the air of a man who did not want to found for him to fit seamlessly within the pub's crowd, yet he strode in with his head held high as he made his way to the counter on the far end.

There was only one patron sitting there that night, a Nigerian man with stripes of white paint on his face and a suit that may have been tailored just to hug his massive limbs without tearing at the seams.

After lowering his hood to his shoulders, allowing strips of dripping bangs to cling to his cheeks and frame his face, Hanzo ordered a small bottle of sake from the bartender, then waited while it was fetched without displaying any outward sign of recognizing or acknowledging the man beside him.

It wasn't until Hanzo had poured himself a warm cup of the rice alcohol he'd requested that the man beside him shifted to regard him. "Those legs of yours are in excellent condition. You've taken good care of them."

Taking his time to answer, Hanzo took a small sip of his sake, enjoying the pleasant warmth that itched at his throat and chased away the downpour's cloying chill. "I owe you my thanks. Your company's prosthetics have served me well."

Glancing sidelong at the archer's deliberately impartial tone, Akande Ogundimu hunched forward slightly, pressing his torso against the counter as he reached for a beer that had to be a specialty brew, as it possessed a richness that simply couldn't be found in the commercial brands. "Is that the only reason you came to see me?"

"It is."

Silence reigned for a time, though the constant hum of inane chatter behind them never ceased. Before long, Hanzo had finished his drink, and Akande quickly ordered him a replacement, one which was more expensive and of better quality than the first. While Hanzo rotated the clear liquid in his shallow cup, Akande asked, "Do you remember our first meeting?"

Shortly after Hanzo had lost his limbs, the clan had booked him a flight to Nigeria to meet with the best and brightest engineers in the field of synthetic limbs, all of whom seemed to be employed by a prosperous company under the management of a young CEO. The archer recalled clearly the sensation of sitting on a plane, convinced that the soles of his feet laid solidly on the ground, only to look down to see that the limbs ended in an ugly mess of knarled scar tissue shortly past his knees.

After the long flight, he'd been exhausted and irritable, leading him to snap at the first well-built Nigerian man that strode into the lobby to attempt to converse with him.

"You tricked me," Hanzo replied slowly, as the tip of his finger traced the condensation on his plumb-colored bottle, "into thinking you were a nurse."

Surprisingly, for his stern features did not much lend themselves to merriment, the corner's of Akande's mouth quirked up in amusement. "I did no such thing. I merely asked a few questions about your requested prosthesis and you came to a logical yet flawed conclusion."

Touch me again without my permission, and you may lose those hands you take so much pride in.

Scowling at the memory of his younger self's fear and damaged pride, Hanzo tipped his head back to down a swift drink, though the light burn was no longer enough to satisfy him. "You thought I was broken."

"I merely thought you could be improved," Akande was quick to correct him.

"To me, it was the same."

With his cup drained, Hanzo set about the mechanical action of refilling it. Even after so many years on the run, his movements retained a quality of grace and ceremony to them from the traditions passed onto him when he was a child. It was said that exchanging sake was a sign of comradery and loyalty, that those who did so were bonded until death, brothers in spirit if not in blood.

The tradition had died down amongst most yakuza over the years, but the Shimada had always been known for keeping the old ways alive, and yet Hanzo knew that he would never exchange cups with the calculating mercenary beside him, for their paths and priorities in life had diverged to the point where neither could sustain the bond without cutting ties with their allies.

"They've lasted you a long time." Hanzo straightened, aware of the mercenary's keen gaze roving from the clawed toes of his prosthetics to the joint above his knee where metal and flesh fused. "But ten years… I suspect they will break soon."

It could have been an assessment of their durability, or it could have been a veiled threat. Judging by his present company, the archer decided to err on the side of caution. As if they were merely discussing the abysmal weather outside, Hanzo replied casually, "Have I mentioned that my brother knows that I am here?" He left a handsome sum beside his half-finished sake, as was customary in a pub that regularly harbored those with a price on their heads, and scraped back his stool to take his leave. He'd accomplished what he'd come there to do, after all.

A firm grip on his shoulder stopped him. Hanzo twisted to face its owner, a snarl on his lips, but Akande didn't so much as flinch. Outside of battle, his calm was like that of a still pool, every ripple in his composure brief and quick to fade. "But does he know who you are with?" When Hanzo said nothing, Akande opened the palm of his synthetic hand to reveal a blinking communicator. "They don't trust you."

The device crackled with static, and then, Ha-

Hanzo paled as his blood turned to ice in his veins. Even distorted by electrical feedback, Genji's voice was unmistakable. He must have followed him.

Akande watched carefully for his reaction, then nodded, seemingly satisfied. "Join us." Digging his nails into his palms to keep himself from reaching for the concealed kunai under the sleeve of his kyudo-gi, Hanzo attempted to plan his next move. "Talon would make better use of your skills than Overwatch ever could. And more importantly, you would not have to fear our judgment, for we are all beyond redemption."

Beyond redemption. The words jumped out at him, repeating themselves in his mind as he'd once spoken them, not carefully constructed in the pursuit of persuasion, but brimming with rage and pain and years of accumulated self-loathing. To Akande, they were a simple reality, but to Hanzo, hearing them was like being exposed to a poison he'd only recently expelled. It also proved beyond a doubt that the mercenary could never understand him.

To seek redemption, even in the face of impossible odds, was its own brand of salvation.

Gritting his teeth, Hanzo snapped, "I have received this offer before and my answer has not changed." Then he leaned in close, fully aware of how easily the former martial arts champion could bat him through a wall, and positioned his body so that none of the pub's patrons could read his lips when he growled, "Release him now, Ogundimu, or tell me where he is so that I may release him myself."

"I know you, Hanzo. I know better than anyone what kind of a man you are. These…" he paused briefly, mouth twisting into an ugly sneer, "people you call companions are like water to a flame. They will only smother you."

Before Hanzo could shoot back a response, the discordant sounds of brief scuffle over the communicator distracted him. He bit down on his lip to suppress a concerned shout at several harsh, metallic thuds.

Lifting the communicator to his lips, Akande ordered a status report on the prisoner, to which Widowmaker responded with her smooth, sultry tones, The prisoner attempted to escape. I subdued him.

In the background, they could hear Genji say, It is rude to ignore present company, Widow. Did Talon force you to forget your manners, too?

There was another blow, as unnecessary as it was vindictive, but it did not stop the cyborg's flow of taunts, each one barbed and hooked to get under his captor's skin. Listening to the endless stream, Hanzo's expression gradually morphed from one of concern to one of confusion, before settling on exasperation.

However, as Akande had never had the pleasure of growing up with the cyborg, he'd stalled at confusion. "What is he doing?"

Has anyone ever told you that you hit like a girl? It is not an insult, merely a statement of fact.

Hanzo suppressed a groan. "Being himself."

Well, mostly. Genji's insults and jeers had been much cruder in their youth. On the whole, Hanzo supposed he actually preferred the change.

A name filtered through the speaker, a name Genji shouldn't have said, because it was followed shortly by a gunshot and a drawn out hiss of pain.

"Genji!"

I'm okay, came the quick response. Though I imagine Mercy is going to be rather upset with me when we get back.

Having had enough of this farce, Hanzo spun to leave. If Genji had followed him then he and the Widow were most likely nearby, and a sonic pulse arrow could give away their position, but… It was a risk. One he'd rather not take with his brother's life on the line.

"Remove your hand, Akande." The air grew thick with the smell of ozone as sparks like bolts of lightning crackled over the exposed skin of Hanzo's left arm, and an ethereal blue flame blazed beneath the surface of his eyes. "You do not have many more to spare."

Sensing the danger, Akande immediately released him."You must listen to me, Hanzo. You belong with the kinslayers and scoundrels."

"Your pitch needs work." He attempted once more to leave, this time striding quickly to the door.

Akande stood to follow him, his longer gait allowing him to keep pace easily. Neither of them bothered to acknowledge how very quiet the once bustling pub had become, or the weary gazes they could feel tracking their movements. "Then what about freedom?" He positioned himself in front of the door in such a way that it appeared almost unintentional, causing Hanzo to bare his teeth at the mercenary in frustration. "You wish to be free of your past, of your ties to both your clan and your brother, isn't that so? Join us, and you will never think of them again. There will be nothing stopping you from forging your own path." Instead of replying, Hanzo activated the mechanism in his sleeve that would propel the kunai into his hand, though he kept it carefully concealed in the folds of his gi, exposed only slightly so that Akande could see exactly what he thought of this delay. Finally, the man stepped away from the exit, his hands raised in a placating manner, though the gesture did little to elicit good will, as it was well-known that they were just as deadly as any weapon. "Alright, then do as you see fit. Should you decide to cooperate with us, we would have the backing of the Shimada on our side. But if not, one of our greatest obstacles will be effectively and permanently neutralized."

Hanzo's gaze flicked from the mercenary to the silent communicator resting in his grip. "You would trade his life for mine?"

Lowering his hands, Akande offered him a subtle shrug. "If that is what you wish to think, though I'd prefer to call it an opportunity to reach your true potential."

Was that what Talon had done for Amelie Lacroix? Allowed her to reach her true potential?

"You would turn me into a puppet."

To be transformed into a mindless doll that obeyed its orders without question. In a way, it would be as though he were returning to his roots. The very thought made him the sake in his gut churn with revulsion.

"Your tactical mind is your greatest asset," Akande was quick to assure him. "I would not allow it to be sacrificed for your obedience." Then, more to himself than to Hanzo, he muttered, "Talon has more than enough pawns to fill the chess board."

After a long pause, the tension drained from Hanzo's shoulders. Refusing to meet the mercenary's gaze, he nodded.

Relieved, Akande made as though to clap the archer on the shoulder, only to hesitate at the look on Hanzo's face and quickly change tactics. "You made the right choice," he settled for.

With a low sigh, Hanzo averted his eyes to stare at nothing in particular, as even nothing was preferable to the note of triumph ringing clearly in Doomfist's words, "There was never a choice."

The communicator flared to live just as Hanzo reached for the handle-

No no no

He stopped, his attention arrested by the shouting coming from the blinking device in Akande's palm. The mercenary looked far too unsurprised by the outburst, meaning he'd intended for Genji to listen in. This was a test of some sort, Hanzo realized, and his blood boiled as Genji's strained pleas grew increasingly more frantic, Hanzo, you cannot trust him!

The mercenary may have been many things, few of which were complimentary to his character, but he was also a man of his word. "Unless I do this, he will kill you." He was so tired.

The response was immediate and came without a hint of hesitation, Then you must let me die!

"DO NOT ASK THAT OF ME!" Hanzo roared at the device, heedless of every head that spun to face him in shock. Even Ogundimu appeared surprised by the outburst. In truth, Hanzo no longer cared for appearances, only that there was no way for him to resolve this situation without losing Genji once more. But if he joined Talon, then at least he would live. "…do not," his throat thickened, refusing to cooperate. Eventually, quietly, he managed, "…you cannot ask that of me."

While Hanzo, struggling to recover his mask of composure, wondered if the communicator had even picked up on his words, Akande continued to watch him closely, something unfathomable in his dark gaze. At last, he brought the device to his lips and said, "Widowmaker, let the prisoner go."

There was a curt acknowledgement and then silence. Hanzo stepped away from the door to close the distance between him and Akande, growling, "What are you playing at?"

The man shrugged, unfazed by the ire of a dragon, "Nothing." He stepped past Hanzo to open the door, then stepped out into the street, where the rain had lightened to a light drizzle that fell from a cloudless night sky. "It is my belief that, given time, you will join us of your own accord." He tossed an object into the air, something small which Hanzo caught on reflex. It was the communicator.

With a hint of a smile, the mercenary turned to stride down the road, and waved without a backwards glance. From the threshold, Hanzo watched the imposing figure shrink into distance until it reached an indiscernible size, then sprinted into the night to find his brother.