Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Jesse leaned against the cool metal wall as sweat dripped down his back. His skin felt clammy and everything was too hot. If it weren’t for the two men sitting opposite of him, Jesse would have shed his shirt hours ago. Mostly, he had to ignore the soft pounding in the back of his skull. Instead, he focused on the two men sitting aside him and focused on their conversation.

“Dude, I can’t fucking believe that the boss put a punk-ass bitch like you in charge of his Omegas,” Bennett grumbled and sat back with his arms crossed over his chest. His eyes were locked on Jesse.

Typical Alpha behavior, Jesse scoffed and sat forward himself, “Maybe it’s cause boss knows I won’t step outta line and fuck his property. I’m an Alpha that can control his dick and not dry hump a metal door.”

The third in the room snickered, “Dude, he’s got you there.”  Bennett flushed a dark red that Jesse figured was more out of anger than embarrassment.  Every Deadlock member knew this story by now, Jesse made sure of that. It was no secret that Deadlock recruited Omegas. Out here, in the asscrack of the good old USA, Deadlock ruled. Alphas were attracted to the organization's lack of organization. Freedom from conformity ruled out here, and every man was truly for himself.  

Prospects for cute little Omegas out here though ran dry quickly. Many found themselves in sleazy bordellos turning tricks for another hit of some mind-altering drug. Deadlock held more promise. An Omega could find themselves in a very sweet spot if linked to a high ranking member of Deadlock.

Which brought on the need for protection.  The boss had, at one time or another, at least four Omegas kept at all times.  And with this rise in numbers of Omegas, there came a need to protect them. Rival gangs were the reasoning that the boss gave as he set up a rotation of guards, but Jesse knew better. If an Omega went into heat here, in the bowels of a Deadlock base, they were surrounded by dozens of horny, hormonal, teenage Alphas. It was a recipe for disaster.

Bennett was highly trusted. He was a rising star in the ranks, young and virile, he had not lost a single fistfight. His name was on a short list of asshole Alphas that Deadlock was beginning to trust. That was why he left to guard the Omegas alone.

Then Claire, a cute little blonde Omega, fell into a heat.

Protocol dictated that his first order would be to radio up about the sudden change. Omegas in heat were not just used for personal pleasure, they were wonderful pawns in negotiations. It was hard for rival Alphas to concentrate when they were more concerned with wanting to hump.

Bennett broke protocol. Jesse was the one to find him, nearly foaming at the mouth with his pants around his ankles as he rutted against the metal door of the Omega’s room. Luck was on their side, as the door was locked. Bennett’s lust-addled mind could not break the rut he had fallen into just as he scented the Omega in heat.

It took four other Alphas; stronger, older and more powerful, to wrestle him to the ground and tranq him.

Jesse had managed to get to Claire in time and lead her safely away. Jesse found himself suddenly in the spotlight. Here he was, this scrawny little kid able to withstand the scent of an Omega in heat.

He claimed it was due to his respect for the oath of being a Deadlock member. The gang was his family and he would do nothing to jeopardize that. He gave all the right answers and gave all the right tells. To anyone listening, he was a prime example of how a young Alpha should behave around his superiors.

Jesse lived in a world of Alphas and he was good at disguising himself as one.

Jesse snapped back as Bennett slammed his fist into the other’s shoulder. “Yeah, it’s my fault I act like a man when I scent out a pretty little thing wanting my dick. At least I’m not a fucking eunuch.” He shot Jesse another cold stare. “I got you figured out, McCree.”

Jesse shrugged and leaned back, crossing his legs. “Just you tell yourself that. Guess I am just stronger than you. Ain’t no one found me humping any inanimate objects here, ‘cept my hand.” He smirked. “But I mean, come on, who don’t fuck their fist.”

Bennett scowled deeper and leaned back, “Just do your damn job, McCree.”

Jesse leaned back and the trio fell back into silence. He brought his hand to the back of his neck and worked the sore muscle, trying to ignore other parts of his body that were starting to demand more attention.  All week he had been ignoring the signs.

But he was needed here, to watch the Omegas while the boss hosted some bigwigs from the east. He spent his years here trying to build that reputation; taking odd hours, going on dangerous missions and eagerly working the shit jobs just to prove that Deadlock was his world. Being compliant was a trait not shared by a lot of the Alphas.

Jesse was in the lineup when the representatives came walking through. He leaned against the upper balcony, trying to get a glance at these new men.  Seven of them came in, dressed in crisply pressed black suits. Even from his distance, the scent hit him like a dump truck. It was pungent and strong and entirely….Alpha. Jesse nearly fell to his knees, instead, gripping the metal banister tighter in his hands as his gaze was locked on the group. He ducked out before anyone could scent him out. He could feel it in his body. His mind screamed out, demanding he mate.

The cruel hand of fate did not dissipate after the first meeting. He chalked it up to the fact they were foreigners.  The scent of these men grew more pungent the longer they stayed. Jesse spent his nights drunk on the scent. It was unusually sweet and aromatic, not just the regular scent of sweat and salt, but softer and syrupy. He wished to bury his nose in that scent and lay there, letting it consume him.

Usually, he would high tail it out of the safehouse at the first sign of a heat and hole up for a week, letting it pass. He knew if he stayed, someone would eventually find him out. Space and privacy were limited. He would be ridiculed.

Or worse…

My god, if he got anywhere close to that scent, he would have no shame anymore.  Even here, far from the men, he could still hold that scent in his brain. He could feel it calling to him loudly.  And he would have no shame in presenting himself to that scent and letting it have him. Breed him.

“So,” he cleared his throat and looked at the two of them. He had to get his bearings, “How long are these assholes here again? It’s been a week.”

“Which assholes are you referring to, McCree?? You’ve been here for years and refuse to leave,” Bennett sneered, “Or do you mean the Yakuza? The ones that we are trying to build an alliance with? They are here until we get a deal. We have spent years building up our reputation and those ‘assholes’, as you call them, are our ticket out of being a damn backwater biker gang and an actual, respected organization.”

Jesse rolled his eyes, as the lecture went on and pressed the back of his head against the metal wall at his back. “Simple timeline was all I needed, damn.”

“Damn, dude,” the voice of the other came to him, but he couldn’t be bothered to remember his name. “You look like shit. You in a rut?”

Jesse cursed, “I ain’t going in a rut. Do I look like I am salivating over the Omegas?” A small voice began to chant in the back of his head over and over, a single word. Mate. It howled and screamed. It blanked out every other conscious thought until the only thing in the forefront of his mind was that singular, primal drive. Mate! He banged the back of his head against the wall to get it to stop and gritted his teeth. “It’s the flu or some shit.”

“If you are sick, get outta here, I don’t want that shit,” Barrett growled.

“I’ve been sick all week. It ain’t a thing,” He mumbled. “Just hot.”

His brain shrieked. His hands were numb and clutched at his sides. His fingernails bit into the palm of his hand, leaving deep crescent-shaped marks in his palms. Mate mate mate…..

“No,” Bennett laughed out loud, “You are. Look at you here. I can smell it, one of those Omegas is in heat. You smell it too, right Paulie?”

Paulie, right. The other was Paulie. Bennett and Paulie. “Ain’t a rut.”

“Naw, Doc gave us all suppressants. I can smell it, but I got my head. You are reacting to that Omega. Smell it, Paulie. That Omega is in there, all wonton and needy.”

Jesse resisted biting his lower lip. He could not give himself away.  Bennett stood up and meandered over. His scent wafted by, sending a shiver up Jesse’s spine. “Wanton,” Jesse growled out. “Wonton is food, wanton is needy.” He looked at Bennett, his eyes glassy.  

Bennett smelled feral. Animalistic. Raw.

Unworthy , his brain snarled out. Jesse stood up straight and locked eyes with Bennett. He stepped into his space with a puffed out chest. A challenge. He wanted to throw the other man across the room and show him exactly how much he did not like his presence. He wanted to assert his dominance, Alpha or not.

“Holy shit,” Bennett stepped back, his eyes widening at the sudden aggression. Then, he laughed. Jesse felt his face grow hot. Stupid! His mind screamed amidst the burning in his body.  He didn’t get a chance to respond.

The radio crackled to life. The sound of distant gunfire brought Jesse right back to the moment. “Run!“ The voice on the radio called out. “Get the fuck out! Feds!” A loud bang sounded, followed by garbled yelling.

Bennett slammed Jesse against the wall as he moved past. Paulie followed suit, both too concerned with their own hide to give any thought to him.  

Jesse panted and fell to the ground. His lungs ached and his vision blurred. He could feel it now, more prominent than before. Slick ran down his leg and soaked his pants. He knew now. His scent was overwhelming. His brain still violently rebelled. Mate , it cried. Give in!

The room began to tilt. His fingers scratched against the cool concrete below, trying to keep his wits about him.  From far off, he heard the shot. One, two. Shotguns. Were they down the hall, or just outside the door? From inside the room, he could hear the strangled cries of the Omegas. They were scared. Someone was here and they didn’t belong. The Alphas were supposed to protect them.

It was just him though.

Jesse pushed against the ground and stood on wobbling legs. His hand went to his hip and the gun that was strapped there.  Always carry. Safe. Protect. He felt the metal in his hand and attempted to lift.

Heavy. When did his gun gain weight? It took both hands to hold it up, trained on the door. They called him a natural. He was a good shot. Why couldn’t he keep his hands from shaking?

Mate , his brain bellowed louder and drowned out every other thought in his head. Find someone worthy! Submit! His heart pounded in his ears and crawled up his throat along with bile. Sweat dripped from his hair and into his eyes. The world around him blurred.

Jesse shook his head violently and banged his head against the wall. “Focus,” he growled to himself and kept the gun steady and on the door in front of him.

The weapon felt so heavy.

The smell of Alpha hit him again. Not like Bennett and Paulie. Not the stink of sweat and dirt. Not the sweet, intoxicating scent of the Yakuza Alphas that permeated all his senses and made him drunk.  This was cinnamon and spice...hot and hard.

He steadied his aim. Behind him came a soft whimper, a cry for help from one of the Omegas. In front of him, the doorknob turned.

He didn’t hear it. He didn’t feel his gun emptied into the wall and ricocheted off of the metal door. He didn’t notice until the gun clicked empty. He watched as the Alpha he scented kicked in the door and rolled into the room, his pistol trained on Jesse.

Jesse fired again.

Click

Empty.

The man was like smoke. He was across the room and had ahold of Jesse before he could even reach to reload. Jesse felt his arm twisted around to his back as the man pressed him to the floor, his knee digging into Jesse's lower backside, the gun knocked far out of his reach.

“Fucking hell,” The man snarled out, his knee dug further into his back as Jesse shifted. Even if he wanted, Jesse could not move without feeling the man’s knee in his back. He bucked hard, screaming out at the sharp pain and the man forced him back. The agent let out a flurry of Spanish as he pressed his full weight onto Jesse’s back. He leaned down and snarled in his ear, “If you know what is good for you, you will fucking stay down.”

The voice in his mind quieted under the forceful submission. This man was Alpha. More Alpha than any Deadlock grunt he had ever met. More Alpha than the boss. Jesse felt himself surrender under his weight and let out a lewd moan as he was pressed harder into the cement.  

The man ignored him, instead, he focused on the radio in his ear.  “Eagle, this is Shadow. First floor clear. The emperor is not on base. Repeat, the emperor is not on base.” The man was silent for a while, his weapon trained on the door. Jesse was an afterthought.  “Copy that. Send Medical, we have hostages.”

Jesse growled and bucked. The man above him did not move.  Instead, he applied more pressure and dug his knee further into Jesse’s back as he leaned down.

The thick, heady scent invaded his senses as he felt hot breath on his ear. He closed his eyes and swallowed. His body begged for the man to rip the clothes off his body. Feel skin on skin.

Touch .

His mind howled in rage. A hand gripped the back of his throat tightly and slammed his head back into the ground. “Enough!” The man barked out.  Jesse heard a shuffling behind him. Footsteps and the clicking of metal on metal. The tired creak of the metal door to the Omega’s room opening and the sound of voices; some calm and collected, the others panicked and small.

His brain would not process the words. His focus was on the man over him, his voice came clearly, “Damn, kid, look at you,” there was amusement in his tone as he forced Jesse’s hands behind his back and locked them in place with cold metal cuffs. “An Omega in full heat, and you still resist. You got some spunk.”

Jesse snarled as he was hauled to his feet. The man held him by the scruff of his jacket and pushed him to move forward. Jesse stumbled. “Get off me, you sonovabitch!”

The man let out another bark of laughter and pushed him out of the room through the scores of men clad in body armor, their guns were raised. Against the wall sat a dozen Deadlock with their hands and ankles ziptied.  Jesse locked eyes with Bennett, the side of his face was already swollen. He apparently fought back and lost. Jesse saw his odds. Running and fighting would get him nothing but the same.

He began to walk towards them before being quickly pulled back, “Whoa, Pendejo, where do you think you are going?” He led Jesse towards the open door and the black van that waited outside.  “Someone like you sitting with them? No. I got bigger plans for you.”

__________

Soulmates were not common, usually ancient lovers that had reincarnated for various reasons. For most of his classmates, they talked big, about having a One True Love and the kind of romance that would transcend the centuries and be written about forever and ever, like Romeo and Juliet or Tristan and Isolde. Hanzo had scoffed at it all as the foolish prattlings of lovelorn teenagers.

Genji, three years his junior, was giddy with excitement.  His classmate, Aiko, found out she had a soulmate. He had been abuzz about it for the past week. All of their classmates were.  She had rolled back her shirt collar and there they were, violet markings on her neck, marking her out as someone’s property.

Hanzo had called her a liar.  Fifteen was entirely too young to have a mate in his opinion, let alone a soulmate.  Every instance in history showed that maturity and presenting did not appear until late teens. Soulmates were the items of myth. Sad fools were the only ones to believe in such nonsense.

Genji called him a cynical fool.

“Have you ever tried to find out about your soulmate?” He asked one day while they sat together.

Hanzo had his books spread out in front of him.  He had been applying for colleges. Hanzo slowly lowered the book and looked out to his brother. “What are you prattling on about? Why would I pay a hustler to lie to me? And besides that, why would you think I have a soulmate?”

“We are Shimadas,” Genji rolled his eyes as if that were answer enough.  “Our family has always had soulmates. Mother and Father, Grandma and Grandpa….me.”

Hanzo felt his eyes roll into the back of his skull. It was another story that Great-Grandmother told, a way to keep the Shimadas on top of the rest of the Yakuza clans. All Shimadas were linked to another human being. They had ancient souls that transcended time and space. They were special.

“Well, future me. I haven’t gotten a sign yet, but I went to a fortune teller yesterday and she told me a soulmate was in my future. I would meet him in an unusual place. And it would be unconventional,” He let out a dreamy sigh. “Well, she kept changing pronouns. Him, Her, They...I wonder who they are,” he stared out the window, lost in his thoughts.

Hanzo’s eyes would dislodge from their sockets if he rolled them any further. “Genji, that woman’s job is to lie and tell everyone they have a soulmate.  I bet she also told you he was a foreigner and exotic.” Hanzo had dabbled with that thought of fortune tellers when he had been Genji’s age and heard something very similar.  His soulmate was from a land far away. Follow the color red.

It took him a week to realize how ridiculous it all was.  He spent that week not thinking about family or the business or anything else of importance. Of course, she would mention a foreign man. The more remote his soul resides, the harder it would be to prove her wrong and demand his money back.

“Have you ever tried to contact your soulmate? Aiko said to her, all she had to do was think about them and she wrote a message on her arm and then her soulmate replied,” Genji scooted over to him.

Hanzo had. Once. There was no reply. He was sixteen. Late in the night he sat in his dark room and pulled out the black calligraphy ink. On his arm, he had written a short greeting, all while thinking of this soulmate.  His heart had fluttered as he did it. An excitement passed through him at the promise of something that was truly his and only his. What would his soul say in return? Would he be excited to know him? To know he existed and that they were unique? Would they plan to meet?

Grandmother caught him. She called him a silly little fool as she dragged him out of his rooms and to his father’s office, where he was lectured severely about the importance of being a Shimada.

It was also where he learned how full of shit everyone around him was.  Soulmates were a lie; it was the clan who picked your mate, not the other way around.  Strong Alpha leaders needed a modest silent Omega. They came more willingly when it was destiny on the line.  They would not act up if it were the ancient dragon spirits that called them to the family. Not the ornate dowery and the doctor’s decree of fertility.

He was sent away then, told to act more like the future leader he was and not some child. He was not to write about himself ever again. It was not like there would even be a reply. Psychic links were a children’s story. Nothing more. Anyone who said otherwise was a charlatan and liar.

After that Hanzo lost all hope.

“Well?”

Hanzo blinked back to reality as he felt Genji practically laying over him as he pressed a pen into his hand. He smelled of sweat and disgusting body spray, the type that gave off the Alpha pheromone.  “What would you say to your mate when ‘Hello, my name is Hanzo Shimada. Come find me. I need to get laid.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes dramatically again.  “Hello, my name is Hanzo Shimada. I hope you like cold, aloof assholes who are anal retentive’.  This will not work, Genji. I have told you, it is fiction.”

Genji smirked wickedly, “I would do away with most of that and just say, ‘I hope you like anal’.” he laughed wildly as Hanzo threw a pen at him. “Do it! Write that to your soulmate! I’ll do it if you do it!”

“I just got home from a trip abroad. You have not seen me in almost a month and your first thought is to bother me about whether or not I have tried to psychically bond with some fictional soulmate and not about what America was like.”  

Genji flopped down in front of him, “Father said there were Omegas there. They threw you into a bad rut.”

Hanzo flushed and looked away.

“Oh my god,” Genji gasped. “That really happened? I heard Father talking. He was so pissed at that backwater gang for being dirty and full of horny Alphas but I didn’t actually believe it threw you into a full-on rut!”   

“It was nothing,” Hanzo mumbled out. He thought back to that dusty hole in the wall They had been invited to walk through the base on their way to the leader. It was an intimidation technique, his father explained as they walked through the hooting and hollering buffoons.  

Deadlock was like a pack of stray dogs-all Alphas that begged for scraps. Their leader, he found, was no better than the rest of them. The only difference between the Deadlock leader and his goons was that he bit and clawed his way to the top and then fought to keep the others beneath him.  It was only a matter of time before another Alpha grew stronger and threw him off his pedestal.

The scent of Omega, though. It hit him the moment he stepped onto the base, making his knees weak and the hair on the back of his neck rise. A tangy scent that was begging for an Alpha. Watching the Alphas in the base, he could see how the leader kept them in order. They were so enthralled with mating those Omegas in heat that they did not even think about going after him.  Their biology was keeping them in line more than a strong leading hand.

The Shimada’s were shown around the compound and Father’s scowl furthered with every new thing that the Deadlock leader showed off. They were disorganized and foolish. Ambitious without a goal in mind.  Hanzo felt proud that he was at least a part of an organization that had a set hierarchy. Shimadas did not need to fall back on tactics like holding Omegas hostage and keep them in a heat to keep the men in line. Father, the other elders, and their bodyguards had not scented out the Omegas though, not like he had.  

Hanzo mentioned it at dinner that night when they were finally left alone. Father looked at him strangely. So had the others.  They were able to scent out Omegas in heat, but they said wherever the Omegas were, they were not near. He was the youngest member of the Shimada clan, maybe he was just young and unmated. His senses were working overtime.

The next few days played out without much interest. Deadlock sent representatives, they had kindly hosted them for a while. The boss came in a few times as well to talk to Father as well. While his father and the others followed around Deadlock and listened to their idiotic ramblings about owning the territory, Hanzo stayed behind in their rooms.  It was obvious their future was not with this backwater gang, especially with the way some of them bragged about taunting the local authorities to him specifically as if that would impress him. There were much better uses of his time, he told his father one morning. Since then, he had been left alone in the rooms.

Usually, when left to his own devices without a chaperone, Hanzo would take in the local culture. Here, in the middle of the American Southwest, the only thing of interest within fifteen miles was this damn hole in the wall gang. He instead took to researching colleges. Father may allow him to study abroad if the institution was renowned enough. He was through his first year with stellar marks, but he wanted to see more of the world than the college that was just three blocks from his secondary school.

That scent persisted. It pulled him away from every rational thought. College is what he told his father, but in truth, if he got any nearer to that scent, he would lose his damned mind. He would fuck that body into the floor. Let Deadlock see what a real Alpha was made of.

That clung to the walls and to his skin, driving him mad. More often than not, Hanzo found himself leaning against the bathroom door the moment everyone had left. His pants around his ankles and his hand fisting his cock with such fury, almost as if it deserved punishment. He could feel it, the knot growing at the base of his cock more readily now than before. It formed so fast and easily...

That fucking scent…

It felt as if every waking moment, it grew stronger. It called to him and begged to be claimed. It wanted a mate. A proper mate. An Alpha that would take care of their every need.  He felt the need to seek it out and mount whoever was secreting that amazing scent and fuck them until there was nothing else in the world but the two of them…

Father catching him in the middle of humping into the bed mattress had been the final straw. It had taken all five of the bodyguards to manhandle him back onto the private jet. He did not remember any of it, just finally giving in to that scent and into his rut.  Feeling these men physically removing him and taking him away from that sweet Omega scent drove him to lash out. He had broken one of their noses on his forehead.

Days later, he had come to his senses. He sat aching and dehydrated, but alone, in a hotel room. He laid out on the floor, amidst the blankets and pillows of a bed. Feathers from the down comforter lay strewn about him like he was a wolf that caught a chicken. The bed lay in smashed shambles, along with every other piece of furniture. Never in his life had he felt something so intense. The primal urges of it all showed Hanzo that he should have been more careful. More vocal about his biological urges. He knew that now.

A great shame washed over him as he slowly retrieved his things and headed out to meet the rest of his clan. A Shimada should not behave in such a way.

Genji stared in shock as Hanzo finished telling him about the more tame aspects of his trip, “So what did Father say about that?”

“Father said there were Omegas being kept in heat. Since I am young and foolish, I allowed myself to get caught up in it.”

Genji smirked wider. “What if your mate was there?” He asked. He wrapped his arms around his brother and pulled him in close.  “All Alphas are affected by an Omega in heat. It’s basic biology. There is no way that if affected you and no one else, unless,”  Genji looked at him. “What if that was your mate, Hanzo! Your soulmate!”

Hanzo scoffed and pushed him away, “Genji, do not be ridiculous. You are foolish if you think that a thing such as soul mates actually exist. They are children’s stories. Nothing more.  No one has a soulmate,” He punctuated the last statement slowly. “A soulmate is not real.”

“Shimadas do,” Genji let out a little whine. Hanzo shot him a look and he sat up straight with his hands on his knees.  “We have dragons. A dragon resides within the Shimada and its partner, it’s mate lives within yours,” He repeated their grandmother’s story. “You have one, the other one is-” He trailed off as he realized what he was saying.

“Then I don’t,” Hanzo snarled and stood up. He felt a pang in his chest that radiated through his left arm. He clenched his fists tight as the rage burned through him, “Genji, stop acting the fool and start acting like a Shimada. Get your head out of the clouds and your whores and start acting like a real heir. Learn your place. You are a Shimada.”

Genji moved back and stayed on his knees. His face stoic and cold. His eyes would not meet his brother’s “Of course, brother. I am sorry I imputed your time,” He bowed low enough to touch his forehead to the floor. “I should watch my tongue around the heir to the Shimada clan.” His brother slowly rose and moved out of the room, shut the door behind him and left him standing there.

Alone.

Chapter Text

A dull thump pounded slowly behind his eyes and pulled him slowly out of the deep comfort of sleep into the world of the living, leaving him with a throbbing head and aching arms on a bed that was far too stiff and pillows that were too soft.  The bed underneath him lacked the proper feel of something carefully worn in from years of use. The world slowly crashed around his ears like the slow roll of the sea as Hanzo's brain began to slowly work itself back up. Hazy flashes of the previous night came back to him in reverse.

Hotel.

Drinks.

Bar.

He fortified his resolve, slowly managed to open his eyes and was grateful for the quiet darkness of the room. He moved a hand up over his face to banish nausea and sleep away. While no longer drunk, his brain was still feeling the ill effects of the depressant.

Work slowly backward, he told himself. That was usually how these mornings after a self-destructing night went. He had to start at the end and work his way to the beginnings. Where was he now? He was in a hotel room.

What city was he in again? Denver? No….

Las Vegas.

Somewhere in the American Southwest. He remembered Vegas. Why Vegas? Was he here for work? A whim?

Hanzo brought the palm of his hand to his aching forehead and pressed in hard as a new wave of nausea filled his head and the room began to spin. He took a deep breath and tried to center himself once again.  Those thoughts were too big.

Small thoughts, he told himself.  He was in a hotel room in Las Vegas. Now, how did he acquire this room? He had gone out to a bar. He was there to meet a man. Was it a job? No. Just to drink. He found money in the wallet his had pickpocketed from some man on the train from Chicago. He took the cash and replaced the wallet without being caught.

Right. He remembered counting the cash and finding it was enough for a cheap room in some dingy hotel room or enough to get blackout drunk. Logically, he should have gotten the room. He was a good-looking man. He could go to any bar, flirt a bit, and have free drinks until closing.

But that wasn't enough. He did not need a drink or two. He needed to get drunk.

So he had gone out with the sole purpose of blacking out.  How did he get this room then? He thought back. Previous encounters in strange towns left him gambling for petty cash. Most cheap rooms would take a handful of cash and ask no questions.

But this was Vegas.

He turned his head a fraction to the right and looked around the room from his prone position. Large windows that lead out to a full balcony that overlooked the city. The city was alight with the dark navy sky of the morning.  He could see out at the buildings and the skyline of the city. He could see the tips of some far off cathedral…

A cathedral to ecstasy, more like. He was on the strip. This room had to be at least seven stories up. A chair in the corner with a lamp over it. A full desk with stationery and a phone. This was not the cheap room he was used to. It was in no way was it a suite, just a nice room. Usually procured by business people or vacationers.  It was nicer than anywhere he had slept in the last five months. How did he get into a nice hotel room?

The grunt and snore that emanated next to him answered that question. Hanzo felt his stomach drop as he squeezed his eyes shut tight. He rubbed both his eyes with the hard palms of his hand and internally swore.  He became aware of the weight that lay on his hips. Another human's arm.

Oh, that's how. He hustled

Hanzo rolled to his right and made his way out of the bed.  The figure in the bed noticed the absence and sprawled more, taking up Hanzo's portion of the bed.  He was still completely unaware of the world; probably more blackout drunk that Hanzo was himself. Hanzo found his boxer briefs still thankfully on his body. His bag was near the bed as well. At least he did not get so drunk that he forgot his belongings.  He reached in and grabbed the crumpled, half used pack of cigarettes and headed out onto the balcony.

He leaned against the railing and looked out to the early morning city.  The sun had yet to crest the horizon and the world seemed at peace. No cars. No people.  It was too early for the ugliness of the world to show it's head. The city even smelled nicer at this time of day.  Crisp and clean morning air, with just a bite of coolness to it that caused his skin to prickle. There was a heaviness to air. It would become a hot day.  He appreciated this time, even if his mouth tasted like death and his head was threatening to explode on him.

Hanzo opened the small pack he brought out with him and withdrew a lighter and cigarette.  Father caught him smoking once, called it a common habit. Hanzo chuckled. It was fitting that the bastard died from lung cancer. Refused to smoke his whole life and then, in a cruel twist of fate, he died from something as mundane as lung cancer. He made sure his father knew the irony of it all on his deathbed.  It was just unfortunate that he gained the courage to tell his father his true feelings well after the man was on his deathbed and unable to reply.

Hanzo drew in the smoke deep into his lungs, letting it sit and burn before exhaling it out into the world slowly. He watched the smoke curl like a dragon's tail around him.  He didn't smoke often. It was a lot like drinking. It only happened when he needed to take the edge off. He found himself indulging more often. An edge came to him that night in Hanamura when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom.  It felt like a lifetime ago. How long had it really been?

It had to be nearing a decade now since he banished himself from his realm. A lost prince sworn to the impoverished life of a damned ronin.

No, that was another beautiful lie. One he told himself often enough to start to believe. Hanzo arched his neck and back and listened to the joints pop back into place.  Genji used to speak of redemption and idea that there was still hope for him to change and rebuff his familial demands. Genji was a fool. A child. Look where it got him, cremated in an urn, forever seated at the right hand of their father like the true prince he was.

Hanzo took another long drag of the cigarette and watched as the navy sky slowly filtered into brilliant purples and pinks, washing the city in a false light.  The early morning sun reflected off the glass windows of the surrounding buildings, casting a halo around the city, all aimed at the brilliant dawn. This was how his brother saw the world.  All his life, he saw the beauty and the good in things. Genji saw stars on the pavement after a rain. He never saw how ugly people really were. They used. They took. They destroyed.

He rubbed his tired eyes, trying to get the world to focus.  He wanted clarity. For a decade, there was none. Everything he had built up. Everything he had dreamt was ripped from him the moment he raised his sword in obedience. The clan turned on him. Called him a brother killer. How can their next leader be trusted if he harms his own flesh?

He should have been smarter than that. He should have seen it coming. Father had praised Genji's ability to be a showman. Even his death had to be a spectacle. He could bend the world to his will with just his charisma. Genji was a magician. The world's greatest illusionist. Even now, a decade after his death, Hanzo still awaited his greatest feat to finally be completed. Genji, vanishing without a trace only to reappear after a decade with a flurry of "Ta-da!", a bow to the audience and then to wait for Hanzo's applause.  

Rage boiled deep in his chest.  Father would have slapped him at his reactions. Hanzo would have been told him to forgive his brother before he stuck out in anger. Told him that he should listen to the younger Shimada for advice because apparently being a party boy and dropout made him a better leader than the years of rigorous training Hanzo endured every day of his youth.  He was, after all, the favorite. Genji was the ever-present showman and Hanzo was supposed to be...what?

Hanzo took another deep drag of the cigarette and turned as he heard a shifting on the bed.  He stood still, holding the smoke in his lungs until he was positive that the man was still asleep before exhaling again in thick, slow rolls of smoke. It was Genji's fault, he reasoned, that his toxic behaviors had started up again. He had not indulged in such terrible behavior for years.

You are making excuses, a voice inside of him said. Hanzo Shimada, world-class assassin, former heir to the Shimada Clan, was actively looking to destroy himself.  He snubbed the filter of the cigarette onto the banister and leaned further over the railing, looking straight down. It was quite the view, being eight stories above the ground.  He stepped up onto the railing, letting his bare feet feel the cool hardness of the metal below his feet. He leaned over far enough so his torso hung over the side, parallel to the ground below him.  He watched as a black car slowly pulled away from the entrance and made its way down the road and out of his line of sight. The people, if there were any, would have looked absolutely tiny under his gaze.  A good mark for a sniper.

He remembered once, when he was a boy of about seven, coming to a hotel much like this one. It was just him and his father. He felt important. Father entrusted him with the family business.  He was treated like a little lord. He remembered sitting out on a balcony, much like this, where he would close his eyes and pretend he was a bird, flying far away from this height.

His father had a man dropped from that balcony not moments after.  He watched through the slotted bars as he hit the ground and exploded like a garbage bag filled with meat. His mind vividly remembered how the man's juices seemed to splatter against the building across the street.

Hanzo's father had turned to him and with those cold eyes stated "That is what happens to anyone who crosses a dragon. " He had been horrified and impressed.

That man had been fat.

Hanzo wondered briefly if his size had anything to do with the range of the splatter.  He wondered what would happen if a fit man hit the ground from the same height…

A loud snort comes from the bed. Hanzo stepped down off the railing and moved back into the hotel room.  He gathered his bag and quickly dressed. He found it was best to leave before his night's conquests awoke. Especially after a hard night of drinking. He was never sure what he would awaken to. Hanzo's taste in men changed dramatically depending on how inebriated he was.

Sober Hanzo had standards in the men he chose.  High standards. The men that Hanzo would choose were always wealthy and at peak physical performance.  He did not care much about their status. He preferred Omegas, but it was rare to meet one that met his high standards. Generally, he settled on betas. Never Alphas though. Hanzo would only choose men that appeared to be his equal.  He was raised to expect only the best, why should he now change those standards? He knew he was a good-looking man and he spent time making sure he was carefully sculpted. He expected the same out of the men he was to be seen with. Generally though, the men he chose while sober had the same attitude as he did.  They were arrogant and spoiled. They were also terrible lovers. They were selfish and greedy.

Drunk Hanzo was a very different creature.  Drunk Hanzo was needy. Touch-starved. He was an Alpha with a submissive streak. Hanzo had found himself many a morning waking up to a man who was affectionate in every way.  Usually, that person he awoke with would want something more than just a night. It was sometimes nice, to wake up and be pampered. The men Drunk Hanzo would bring home though lacked the physicality of the men he was usually attracted to.  Never were they homely or, god forbid, ugly. He was just better than them. And they understood that as well. Hanzo was intelligent, handsome and experienced. And arrogant. Hanzo oozed the aroma of an Alpha in charge, and the men he went home with wanted to get drunk on his pheromones.

Hanzo looked to the bathroom and debated going to shower.  His body ached. Dried sweat and dirt still clung to his skin. He obviously had not taken the time to wash.  He longed for a long shower and a good soak in a tub. But he risked waking this man up and possibly wanting more from him.  One night was more than enough.

He was not sure what had happened last night. His body ached, but not in the usual ways. It is possible he topped last night. More than possible that had happened. The room smelled stale, but none of the tell-tale aromas of passion. It was more likely, he reasoned, they had rutted against each other and somewhere in there, Hanzo and the man had passed out.

If that were true, he did not want to awaken this man and have to have a conversation with him in the light of morning on why sex was not going to happen. Hanzo set his resolve. He could possibly steal a master key from some cleaning person and find an empty room to set himself up in.  He pulled his clothes on quickly and grabbed his things.

He took one final look over to the man that had taken over the entire bed. He was not terrible looking, a little more baby fat around the edges that Hanzo cared to like, thinning black hair. Still, not terrible looking.  He had the smell of a beta. The man stretched, bringing his hands out from under the pillow and Hanzo stepped back silently. He shouldered the bag that held Stormbow over his shoulder and headed out the door. He took great pains to make sure the door shut silently before heading down the hallway to the stairs.

_____________

Jesse leaned back against the wall of the van, his ankles crossed and legs spread out while his hat lay tipped over his eyes. He gave the perfect picture of a man asleep before a job, an image he wanted the others surrounding him to implant in their brains.  In all his years on his earth, he learned one very important lesson: Image was everything.

So here he was; a larger than life cowboy, sitting in a hot box of a van outside the First National Bank of Amarillo and waiting for the signal to start the heist with a van full of pumped up Alpha asshole gang bangers. He was a damn walking irony at this point. The only thing going through his mind was how Genji would be laughing his robotic ass off if he saw this.

When was the last time he saw that cybernetic asshole? Five? Six years ago? It was before Overwatch went tits up, that was for sure.  The climate of the organization changed in the last few years. Reins were tightened after King's Row. It became too hard to do their job when international bigwigs were scouring every minute decision.  

Genji had been the first to leave. They all saw it coming. He pulled away more from his friends and, while still keeping his head in a fight, his heart was just not in it anymore.  He left a letter as a half-assed explanation. McCree left a few months after. It just was not the same without that little shithead to run with.

Then Switzerland happened. Overnight, Jesse went from a fringe member of society to a full-blown villain. He was Reyes' golden boy. Reyes went rogue. The only logical conclusion was that McCree must have also gone rogue. So, while other former Overwatch members were given a discharge and claimed their hero status in retirement, Jesse McCree got a nice big bounty on his beautiful head.

The only thing that kept him afloat was the training Reyes gave him; never trust anyone to keep your back, always have a backup plan and a plan for when it all goes tits up.  

"The fuck we need Roy Rogers for?" The man to his left whispered. He was pulled out of his thoughts. Good. They thought he was asleep. He tilted his head slightly to that side, listening to these idiots squabble.

"Boss said we needed some expert hands. Apparently, this guy has a dead aim," Another said.  "Remember, we ain't to piss him off. Let him work and we hang back." First impressions of this group were they were all green; barely old enough to shave, let alone hold up a bank on their own.  Shit, he was talking as if he weren't some damn runt the first time he held up a bank.

He felt a shift to his right.  "I thought his name was Macaroon or something."

"Morricone," Jesse grumbled out.  "I ain't some damn cookie." He tilted his hat further down and rolled his shoulders forward, crossing his arms tighter around his middle.

Being an official outlaw had its own set of perks. For one, it made being a bounty hunter so much easier.  He had a reputation about himself that allowed him into the worst circles. It was an unspoken creed of the land, but catching a man unaware and turning him in for his bounty was par for the course out here.  Trust no one and never let your guard down and you can get far in this world.

But being an outlaw also made being a normal human wanting to get a cheeseburger just that much harder. He yearned for a time when he could just walk down the street and not worry about tipping his hat low so no one would get a good long look at him. And international flights were a bitch an' a half when your face was on wanted posters. Thank god he also set up fake accounts before leaving. Joel was his favorite. It was the most normal of them.

His reputation was everything.  Jesse McCree was a known deserter and turncoat. He had given up all of Deadlock's secrets the moment he was arrested and put on Overwatch's payroll. It made him enemy number one in these parts, despite the fact that he was just another grunt worker with absolutely no intel that Overwatch already had.  They just liked his raw talent.

Joel Morricone was sometimes a freelance journalist. Other times, like now, he was the baddest of the bad. Sometimes you had to be the bad guy to catch the worst guy.  That is what Gabe always said before going undercover. He wanted to do the dead man proud.

There was a shift next to him. Jesse tipped his hat up a fraction more. The kid next to him shifted uncomfortably again in his seat. His eyes were wide as he looked between the back windows of the fan and the front. His hands tangled in his lap.  

"First time?" Jesse stretched out his arms and rested them on the wall.

The boy looked over. Eighteen, maybe nineteen, he wagered. His eyes were brilliant blue with sandy blonde hair. The kid looked away immediately and pulled on his leather gloves. "Just checkin' the time, sir."

Jesse exhaled through his nose. The urge to light up and smoke intensified as he watched the kid. He shrank under Jesse's intense gaze. A beta maybe?  He was much too reserved to be an Alpha, especially around these other nitwits. "Ain't what I asked."

The boy paused. He fiddled with the end of the gloves where the stitching frayed, "Yes'um."

"You got a girl back home? A boy?" He looked down at the kid.

"Yes'um," He mumbled out.  "A girl. Ain't mine yet. Gotta make something of myself first."

Jesse let out a warm chuckle and slapped the boy's knee as he put up his bandana to cover his face. "What's your name, kid?"

"Jack," The kid mumbles out. He followed Jesse's lead and tied his own bandana over his face.

Jack. Of course. There had to be a Jack here with pretty blue eyes and blond hair here. It was like the universe was trying to kill him.

"I tell you what, Jack. We are goin' on in now. You stay back and let the big boys work. We'll get you home well enough with a big old paycheck to that purdy lil' thing of yours, yeah?"

"Yus sir. Thank ya, sir," The boy mumbled out.

McCree chuckled at that and looked at the others. "It's ten-o-five. Let's roll on out. Get this over with."  The tall one nearest the door glared. Dressed all in black with a matching black bandana, his dark eyes locks eyes with McCree. His face is obstructed by the thin black mask, as if that would help if they got caught. His dark eyes were like fire as he opened the door, locking a challenging gaze with McCree's for only an instant.

The men file out of the van and grabbed an automatic rifle as they exit past the Man in Black. Quickly, they moved to the bank doors and leaned out of sight against the wall. McCree took up the rear. If they were going in, guns blazing and someone with a gun was prepared, it wasn't going to be his ass in a coffin. He leaned back against the stone brick wall of the bank and steadies his resolve.  He had done this job countless amounts of times. He knew how it would go down by now. Still, it never settled his nerves one bit.

These guys were thugs, nothing more. They had been hitting up every big named bank in the southwest and taking big stacks of cash. They seemed to know when every bank had just a little over the regulated amount. They hit it just before the armored vans would come. Sometimes hours before.  

This Man in Black’s demeanor was more collected than the others.  And his eyes looked like fire. They were itchy and greedy, looking for a quick buck. He played like he was one of them, hired by some unknown boss to do a small bank job. Jesse would wager though he was on the Deadlock's payroll. He was a little too veteran. A little less eager. Less hungry.

A man who wasn't hungry didn't just knock over a bank.

Jack presses up behind him. He can hear the hitch in the kid's breath and the clink of the gun as the butt hits the wall. Slowly, McCree puts a hand on his shoulder and nods.  The others here were idiots. This one was just a kid with something to prove back home. A dumb kid, but nothing more.

Chances were good that if the job went south, the Man in Black would have an assassin take out the rest of the team.  Deadlock was not known for keeping loose ends around. The profit wasn't the endgame here. It was the chaos of another bank being robbed. Another unknown team that the police couldn't track.

The moment dragged on, waiting for the Man in Black to appear from the van.  Jesse felt panic swell in his stomach. What if the endgame this time was for them to all go in without a leader? That would be chaos. But it wouldn't further any cause. Idiots getting shot robbing a bank was a footnote in the news. No harm, no foul.

The man appeared from the back, his phone pressed against his ear as he talked.  It was a nice one. New model. Expensive. He hung up and slipped the phone into the inside pocket of his coat and cocked his gun. "Come on, boys. Cash's awaiting," His voice is a low growl. They follow his lead.  The man kicked the door in. They all storm in after.

"This is a robbery!" the Man in Black shouted, waving his gun high in the air. The crowd screamed and dropped to the ground.  The clerks all raise their hands. "Get down!"

The four others run in behind him, brandishing their weapons as they move.  Jesse is the last to enter. He purposely puts a swagger into his stride. The adrenaline is a rush, but he always found it more fun to undermine the authorities.  "Ladies and gentlemen, beggin' yer pardon, but you heard the man. Please, get on your hands and knees, if you will. Don't try anythin' funny and we'll be out of here as quick as a bunny."

The Man in Black turned on Jesse, snarling at the cool authority that Jesse set.  Jesse raised his hands. "Sorry, boss. Thought I would help ya out before we had a panic."  Jesse left his side to walk around to an older woman who’s walker shook as she tried to lower herself to the floor. "Aw boss, he turned and looks at him. "Ya can't be serious havin' all of ‘em get down!"

"Down!" The hitch in his voice is louder as he swings his gun at McCree. Jesse doesn't flinch. He looked over at the boy, Jack, still near him.

"Com'ere," He mumbled and flags the boy over. "Help me get these people down and safe. No one wants to get hurt today." Jack nodded, handing his gun over to Jesse to help the old woman down onto the floor gently. Jesse nodded his approval to the kid before turning back.

"Kid, stick here with me an' with these fine people. They ain't done nothing wrong but pick a bad day to come get their money."

His eyes locked on a slight movement to his right out of the corner of his eye. There was a slight shift of a hand from one of the hostages. His hand moved under his belly as he reached for something hidden away.

Jesse moved quickly and knelt by the man. He looked down at his weathered features and the deep scowl and was, for the second time today, reminded of the former Strike Commander.   He placed his hand on the other man's, "Sir, please, whatever you are planning ain't worth it. Look at all these people. We both don't want any bloodshed today. If they see you pull out a gun, my companions over there ain't as hospitable as me."

"Your friends are taking my life savings," The man growled.

"Ain't my friends. I couldn't care less about the whole lot of ‘em," Jesse said. "But I do care about you fine people." The man's hand twitched again. Jesse swallowed.  He had to change tactics. "Don't be a damned fool, old man." He said when the Man in Black looked over. "That one there it itchin' for a fight. Don't give him that satisfaction." He kept his eyes lowered as the Man in Black stalked forward.

"The hell is going on?" He snarled.

"Nothin', boss,"  Jesse removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. "Just talking some sense into these fine people. They ain't gonna fight us none," Looking around, he found that the others had disappeared. The Man in Black, the kid Jack and he were the only three in the front.

"Was he looking to fight?" He stalked forward. "He looked at the man on the floor. Even though his face was covered with that black bandana, McCree could see the sneer.

"No, sir. No one was, sir," Jesse looked down at the man. "Just an old man that couldn't get on the ground. Just making sure they ain't lookin' at ya, boss."

As if he understood, the man let out a low, slow groan, as if in pain.

The Man in Black hauled the old man to his feet. "Seems pretty spry to me," He brought the butt of the gun down. Jesse moved quickly. He pulled the man out of the way so instead of his nose, it butted against his shoulder.

"We ain't looking to hurt no one!" Jesse snarled. He dropped the old man and watched him crumple to the floor. "Damn it, we are here for the money, not the fight. The cops'll be here any minute now! Get focused."

He saw it. The slight eye movement cast downwards. He seized his opportunity and snarled menacingly as he stepped into the Man in Black's space. "Get your damned money. Get it now, so I can get out of this shithole town and get back up north where I can spend my share. I ain't here to get more blood on my hands. I'm here to get paid."  

He was the slight warble in his eyes again. Jesse's resolute was firm. Panic rose in his gut. What if this damned fool decided to challenge him. Or worse, make an example of one of the hostages.  It would accomplish nothing but pissing him off more. He took another step forward, using his height to his advantage. McCree had always been tall. Even as a lanky pup, he loomed over the others with limbs like tree branches.  It wasn't until Reyes took him in and began giving him three squares that he had fully formed and filled out. He could be an intimidating man. He knew that now as well, he smelt every bit the Alpha he pretended to be.

Jesse took another step into the man's space, forcing him to take a step back or come chest to chest with McCree. The man stumbled. Jesse made his move. He grabbed the man by the lapels. He twisted him around and threw him back, watching with glee as the man had to stumble to keep upright. "Get my damn money and stop fucking around."

Jesse turned back to the others. Let them see him turn his back. He was not afraid of these pissants.  He looked at Jack. "Kid, your job is to watch these nice people. No one is to hurt them, ya hear me?"

"Yes, sir," The kid's voice shook. He had moved to kneel next to the older man.

McCree rolled his shoulders back. He could hear the shuffling of feet from behind. His gaze moved to the plexiglass over the tellers. It was supposed to be bulletproof. No one, it seemed, wished to test that today. He could see the reflection of the men as they moved duffle bags out from the vault. He moved his free hand, his prosthetic into his pocket and fingered the device inside.

It was a nice phone that the Man in Black had.  It was a shame that he was going to lose it as well. He could feel the smooth surface of the device. Satisfaction rose up his back as he managed a look in the reflective surface again. No one was paying him any mind. The Man in Black had his attention turned on the other goons, thankfully.  He had not even noticed McCree's hand sliding into that pocket of his. He would have to thank Deadlock one day for the lessons on sleight of hand.

McCree watched the Man in Black's stiff moments and sharp gestures. He was successfully a thorn in his side now. He would want to be rid of McCree as quickly as possible. Jesse licked his dry lips and watched. The second their backs were to him, he looked down.  

People and places like this did very little in the way of encryption.  While retinal scans were all the rage with phones nowadays, they were waning in popularity from needing to remove eyewear to get them to work. Hell, for most, a good passcode or thumbprint was enough to lock a device up from prying eyes.  Most people believed they were safe behind a four-digit code. Truthfully, thumbprint scanning made it much more difficult to crack into. Lucky him, the Man in Black wore gloves. Can't open up a phone with a thumbprint with gloves on all the time.

Jesse smirked. If he had time, he could probably crack into the system through a backdoor, using his training as a black ops agent to get in, but as it stood, the screen was smudged with fingerprint (or glove prints in this case). He could see the slide of the finger as it moved over the screen in the passcode.  A dumb one at that. 9-7-1-3. It was a literal slide around in a box formation. He slid his finger around the screen counterclockwise and the screen illuminated.

Blackwatch may have given him fancy toys to hack devices without detection, but there were other ways to get the same job done on a budget.  With another quick flick, he had open the settings of the phone and paired his own device to it.

The whole thing took no time. He slipped the phone back into his pocket and let his prosthetic fingers run over the smooth surface. Everything would be for naught if he were to lose it at this part of the game. "Boss!" He called out. "We about done robbin' the joint?" He called it out louder than necessary as he stalked over.  "I wanna be done here."

"Shut your mouth, Morricone!" The man hissed out and grabbed Jesse by the lapels. "You don't need to sing it out so Jesus can hear you."

"Sorry, boss," Jesse mumbled out. "Might be a tick deaf now that I think about it. Just wondering when we are gonna head on out. Seems to me you got all sorts of little black bags there ready to go." The man gripped his shirt tighter and pulled Jesse closer.  Jesse was a good six inches taller than him, but he saw an intimidation technique when it stared him right in the face. Jesse's hands moved swiftly, placing the cell back into the man's pocket.

"Then get in the van," The man said through clenched teeth before pushing McCree back, away from him. He looked over his shoulder at the other men.  "Let's move out!" He raised his gun high into the air and fired three shots into the air, shattering the lights above him and raining glass on everyone. Jesse ducked down and covered his ears at the noise right near his head as the man leaned down to snarl into his ringing ears, "How's that for deaf?" before he turned and walked out of the building.

___________

The text on the tablet glared back at him, a sea of black text against the white screen. He had been on this page for hours now, ever since the hypertrain left the station back in Las Vegas.  The conductor had called after each major stop, allowing him the benefit of actually witnessing the vast openness of the American Southwest instead of the blur of those so-called purple mountains.

In the past, his ventures to this area of the world consisted of the coastlines, where cities sprawled and now. This past week saw him stuck on slow-moving trains that asked no questions but left him aching from the vast emptiness that made up the middle sections of the United States. He had not been prepared properly for how vast and how empty the in-between area really was. The two-day slow train from Chicago to Las Vegas strained his tolerance for slow-moving travel to the point where he forced himself from the tracks for a night. He had taken the first hypertrain that went south to Albuquerque.

Agoraphobic.

That was what it was.  He had heard people had fear of islands, the trapped horror or knowing that you were terribly alone, floating in the middle of the water. It felt very much like that here in the United States. Like he was drowning in the void of land.

Signs that read two hundred miles until the next out of civilization. Tiny dots of villages that consist of a postal office and a bar and, of course, at least two churches.

He had never been frightened of space until now, knowing they could get lost in the sheer amount of nothing that consisted of towns.

He rubbed his eyes with the palms of his hands and set the tablet back in his bag as he stretched his arm over his head. He ignored to glare from the woman next to him before he mumbled out his apologies again.  

The woman let out another huff of indignation and turned to her companion.  "The nerve of some people," She mumbled out, loud enough to make sure Hanzo heard. "They think they can just take over the whole damn compartment like they own the place."

Hanzo frowned deeper and leaned against the window. It was not worth losing his temper over a compact space inside a train. Besides, he would be the one seen as the aggressor. Breaking her nose would be quite aggressive.

A break would be advisable though. He shouldered his bag and stepped out of the compartment and walked towards the dining car.  It was less than two hours until Albuquerque. From there, it was work.

That was the blessing of this kind of life. He never had to worry about downtime. There was always another job nearby. There was always another hole to sink himself into. There was comfort in that.

He slid comfortably into a booth and ordered a watered down beer and a soggy wrap that dripped with vinaigrette dressing.  The dining car was surprisingly empty, which was a welcome relief from the suffocating passenger car. He had the option of purchasing a private car, complete with personal chef and all the amenities. Sequestered off from the rest of the passengers, it would have been divine.

It had been expensive. Too expensive. In a past life, he would have demanded first class treatment. It was his right. He deserved nothing but the best.

That life was far gone now. He was no longer the heir to the Shimada empire. He was a fugitive from his clan. A man with nothing to live for, except to reclaim his tattered honor.

Hanzo slid his black sports coat off, folding into the seat next to him and rolled his sleeves up to his elbows as he pulled out the contract. It came in two days ago; a simple assassination followed by an even simpler cleanup, addressed to him personally.

Instinct told him to disregard it. Letters addressed to him usually led to late nights in seedy motels sewing closed fresh wounds. But after several years treading the seedy underbelly of the criminal world, taking difficult jobs most snubbed their noses at. They thought he was just that talented.  Truth was, he was immensely talented. He should be with the amount of time and money spent on his rigorous upbringing. The truth though was that he didn't care about life or death.

Slowly, he unfolded the letter and read it over again.

‘ Mr. Hanzo Shimada,

Thank you for your continued support. As a show of thanks, we humbly request your presence at our annual banquet dinner. Special accommodations have already been made regarding your dining and lodging while you visit our fair city of Albuquerque, all expenses paid in full...'

The letter continued on, getting into the more specific details in the same cryptic language. It was not the first time he received such an address, but it was an unusual city and a strange summons.  They wanted it completed soon, by the end of the week at the latest. Proof of a completed job was a requirement, as per usual.

He would have ignored it if it wasn't for the fact he needed that money. Desperately. And Albuquerque was a stop on his way to Los Angeles, where his next scheduled job was. Besides, they said lodging and food were provided already and it would be pleasant sleeping somewhere that didn't have roach tape along the windows.

He folded the letter and put it away at the giggle of young women as they passed by. They slowed their gait and ogled him with the wide, honest eyes of females not used to seeing someone of his caliber in their presence.  

He frowned and looked away, completely uninterested, instead of looking down at his wrist and the dark scales of his dragons.  He received the tattoo shortly before his first trip to the United States.

A small smile crossed over his features as he floated back into his mind. His dragons were his final rite of passage into manhood. Father had been proud that day. Genji's first question had been about his soulmate. He threw himself over Hanzo's lap dramatically, much to his chagrin, and demanded to know if he thought his soulmate could feel the prick of the needle while he ran his fingers over the raised flesh.

For a moment, he almost believed it himself, that his destined mate could feel the itch of the needle as it pressed into his arm. He pictured it so clearly in his mind, his mate owning an identical tattoo to his own. His perfect match.

Those dreams were quickly smashed down. Genji, in his usual inconsiderate fashion, decided to once again run his mouth about their private conversations. Grandmother had heard, which led to Hanzo being chastised once again for Genji's insolence. Speaking out about personal family matters was beneath the heir to the Shimada clan. It was lowly and crude, but also foolish to believe that a tattoo would transfer over to another. That was what children believed.

Calloused fingers rubbed roughly over the raised skin as he pulled himself back to the present.  It did nothing to dwell on the past. Grandmother passed long ago. As did Genji and the rest of his former life. The time for whimsical fantasies on phantom loves that would never come to pass had long since elapsed.

Who would want a broken man as a mate anyway?

The giggling girls passed by him a second time; their stroll slow and posture rigid as they moved. It took everything within him to not roll his eyes at their antics and dismiss them outright.  Instead, he pulled out a cigarette and placed it between his lips, chewing on it instead of chewing them out.

He should have arranged for a private car.

It was an hour to New Mexico. And hour until he had to get to work.

Chapter Text

The train arrived promptly at ten o'clock.

That was one thing to be said about traveling by train, they were more reliable than an airplane. He knew exactly when he was to arrive and depart.

Shouldering his lone bag, Hanzo descended off the train and into the crowded station. He reached into his front pocket and wrapped his fingers around the key. It had come with the letter, a simple metal key for the lockers at the station. He would receive his instructions there, as well as a portion of his payment; a sign of good faith.

He paused as the television in the passenger's lounge flashed with ‘Breaking News' and watched as the woman reporter shuffled his pages and faced the camera.  "We apologize for the interruption to your regularly scheduled program to bring you an update on the situation at First National Bank of Amarillo-"

The voice droll on as he passed, continuing on with the story of some bank in Texas. His fingers tightened around the key in his pocket to assure himself again that it was, indeed, still there. He felt the ridges of the teeth bite into the calloused flesh of his palm and let the pain linger as he walked with purpose.  

There was little need for him to worry, if he lost the key, he would just smash the lock. It wasn't as if he were unskilled in the art of thievery, he just rather not alarm people in a crowded terminal.

The bookstore was also playing the news on the oversized television that sat in the corner, a ploy to keep customers inside as they waited for the arrivals and departures. He glanced over, watching the line of scared people being shuffled out of the bank and into the welcoming arms of the police force.

Hanzo scoffed and headed away down to the storage lockers. Soon, he would have the name of his mark as well as where they would be located. There was a thrill in this calm before the storm. In a few hours, he would extinguish a life, be well paid for his efforts and on a bus headed westward to Los Angeles before the bodies had time to cool.

The mass of people constricted as he neared the exit. Sweat trickled down the back of his neck as anxiety rose within him.  Too close. Too personal. Multiple scents clung to the inside of his nose as people pressed closer, invading his space.

His grip on the key tightened. He pulled it out and ran his thumb over the edge of the key while he repeated the locker number over and over in his mind, trying to focus himself in on something besides the nauseating scent of sweat and pheromones. He twisted away, down an artificially lit hallway with pea green lockers and orange carpet.

There was a quietness here as he stepped further in. Not many, it appeared, used the lockers. Why would they? He mused as the cool dry air washed over his sweat-soaked skin as he knelt down to his locker the moment he found it.  

The hall was mostly empty, save for another man in a wrinkled, brown business suit who leaned heavily against the row of lockers and paid Hanzo very little mind.  

The hinges squealed as he pulled it the old locker open, earning him a fatigued glare from the man in brown. Hanzo ignored as the man passed behind him and left as he pulled out the large envelope. Inside would be his orders.

He turned the envelope over and frowned, nearly cursing out loud at the seal that adorned the front of the package.  The skull and wing motif with the lock and chains were ostentatious, much like the gang this insignia belonged to.

It was strange though. Deadlock had never been known for their subtilty. In the past they had flaunted their accomplishments for the world to see, gaining notoriety for being exceptionally brutal to those who betrayed them.

Father had been impressed back in the day with how dedicated their members were to the syndicate.  They recruited young with a rallying cry of brotherhood and sovereignty. It wasn't until they traveled halfway across the globe when they found out exactly how deep set the claws of Deadlock reached within its members.

There was no leaving. Deadlock was family. Family took care of themselves.

A shiver rose up his spine at how true that statement was.  Deadlock handled their own. He had been in their presence once before when he was young.  He witnessed their brutality first hand, watching as an Alpha put down a pup right in front of them.

It seemed to him that the whole scene was set up.  A boy no older than sixteen who had made an error in judgment. He had not checked the weapons manifest and a crate of semi automatic guns was missing from inventory. The Alpha shot him in the face without listening to any explanation.  

Deadlock handled their own indeed.

Hanzo ripped into the envelope and watched the stacks of green, American cash fall into his lap with a single, handwritten note detailing the address to the safehouse, the estimated time of arrival for the target (tomorrow morning, possibly early afternoon), as well as a map for his convenience. The orders were simple. Leave no witnesses in the room. Below was a single name and the request for an elegant assassination, let it be known Hanzo Shimada was the murderer. They needed to be able to identify the body as well.

He pursed his lips and shoved everything into his bag as he slipped out of the station and into the hot New Mexican sun. The safehouse was an hour away, an easy drive from here. He had time to get there and set up. He was granted those hours.

This did not feel right.  Deadlock took care of their own. Why hire someone so outside their already impressive list of muscle and assassins? What sort of man did Deadlock not even want to deal with?

Who was this Jesse McCree?

___________

"The hell was that back there?" Jesse snarled once he felt the van pulling away. He was fairly certain the wheels squealed, but the ringing in his ears made him deaf to nearly everything around him.

The smirk on the face said more than his words ever could.  The Man in Black wanted to humiliate and hurt. He wanted to take Jesse down a notch without outright killing him.  At least he was smart enough to know leaving a corpse behind would get the feds on them faster than just an all-out snatch and grab. They would probably shoot him later, once they got out of town. "What was that? Ya made me deaf!" He shouted loudly and pointed at his ear.

The man next to him turned to the man, his bandana around his throat now and smirked.  Jesse rubbed his sore ear and watched on. Lip reading wasn't a skill he would put on any resume, but his time in Overwatch gave him a laundry list of skills that were at least acceptable. Morrison had always been the one who could get an entire conversation down with barely a side glance to them. Jesse could manage a few key phrases, at least.

"When---we do it, Jefe?" The man mumbled through his words. Jesse glared at them, damn that. He could only catch a few words. And it looked as if he threw some Spanish in there as well.  Fuck. He could deal with Spanish any day of the week when hearing. He was up shit creek if he had to decipher Spanish from English with lip reading.

"Tonight," The Man in Black pulled off his bandana, but kept the mask in place. "Get him-----Drunk----back." Fuck these idiots and mumbling. He growled and looked away.

"Mr. Morricone," The boy's hot breath was on his neck, his voice was a whisper, but he was at least in his good ear.  The ringing had dissipated to a dull white noise, like static. He leaned in closer to the boy, his eyes never leaving the pair in front of him.

"They are talkin' bout shooting you in the back," he whispered.  

Jesse nodded once, he gathered that much. The boy gripped his bicep and squeezed with both hands.  Jack trembled as his grip tightened with every word the outlaws in front of them said. It was pretty obvious they were plotting his demise.  The only saving grace he had was the fact that they were in the middle of a getaway and couldn't dump a body. He also hoped they had looked over his resume.  He was a sharpshooter. It was one skill that got him onto this crew in the first place.

Joel Morricone was almost as dangerous as Jesse McCree. He made damn sure of that. They would not dare try anything on a man like him out in the open. At least he hoped not.

The noise subsided and the chuckling and rustling of the other outlaws around him came into focus.  Two had duffle bags wide open, pulling out the stacks of cash to show them off to everyone else with hoots and hollers.

"We split it when we get back to base!" The Man in Black barked out. "Put it back." The ride grew quiet as police sirens whizzed passed the van in the opposite direction.  The sobering insight that they were wanted men that just held up the largest bank in the city began to dawn on all involved.

Jesse reveled in the quiet.  He was normally the one to instigate a conversation, but not now.  Now was a time to be cautious. The careful mumbling about shooting him in the back luckily also died away the moment they realized he was now able to listen in. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his eyes on everyone in front of him.

Earlier, he wanted to intimidate them with his aloofness. Now, he wanted them to see his keen eye; that they would not get the drop on him. He would not allow that.

The rest of the journey out of town was quiet.  The police had yet to set up barricades around the city and had not stopped any traffic, which only meant that they had not gotten that far in their investigation. By now, someone had to have alerted the authorities. Major freeways would have been the first blockaded, then the smaller side streets.  He felt rather grateful Amarillo was a large city and not a podunk township with only one exit. It made going invisible easier. The only downside would be there was zero way they were not caught on camera. The plates of the van would be run and eventually, this little gang would be found out.

It would be a saving grace if the van turned out to be stolen, but McCree doubted this group had the brain cells to complete such a task. He watched through the front windshield as the cityscape turned into the more mundane suburbs and finally, the desert opened up in front of them in a sea of sand and paved road.  

He felt the sweat trickle down his neck as the Man in Black shifted into the front seat to talk to the driver in hushed tones.  He leaned forward further until he was able to see the driver's mouth in the rearview mirror.

"Takin' the next left, boss. Exiting out." The van swerved off the main road and onto a dusty little dirt road that led further into the desert proper.  It meant they were heading back to base. Or going to shoot him in the back. Or both.

He leaned back and kept his eyes on the road, looking for landmarks along the way. Deadlock left lots of tiny breadcrumbs out in the desert for anyone apart from them who was hopelessly lost.  In the twenty years, he had been away, he had not seen a single change in their tactics. There really wasn't any need.

Deadlock's leadership changed more hands than a one dollar bill in a strip joint and the only thing that remained consistent was the signals. It's why they were so easy to stamp out after he moved into Overwatch's pocket. No one ever willingly left Deadlock. The only true way out to them was in a coffin. Even for the people that stopped actively running, they were still Deadlock, tried and true, and willing to ax you off if they found you were a squealer. It was a wonder that his arm was the only thing taken from him. And luckily, it was the one with the brand. Small miracles, he called it.

He was pulled out of his thoughts as the van slowed to a stop in front of a run-down old ranch house. The shutters were caving in and the door was blown out, but the foundation still stood erect. He stretched his back as did everyone else as they slowly filed out and into the hot New Mexican heat.

The sun had crept high into the sky and beat down on his neck. He dabbed away the sweat with his bandana and looked around.  Seven trucks lined the back of the house and out of sight from the main road. He frowned, looking back at the four men and the Man in Black. The kid, Jack, stayed near to his side as they headed in.  Two other goons each dragged a duffle bag out of the car and carried it inside. Jesse eyed the bags, his hand went to his own device and pulled it out.

"Phones away, Morricone," The Man in Black snarled again as he passed. "Ain't gettin' no squealers on us at this stage."

Jesse shrugged and held his phone out. "Just checkin' the time, Boss. Wanna get on the road and up to Colorado Springs by nightfall, if it's all the same to you. Ain't no way I am stayin' in this town any longer than I need to."

Jesse carefully watched the men stack the bags on the porch. He smirked. "To be honest, Boss, if I were in your shoes, I would be more concerned with my own crew short changin' me an' robbin' me blind." He nodded over. "Sides of those duffles look mighty puffed up. My guess is someone tampered with them beforehand.  Seen it before, a secret pocket. Stash a few hundred more away so instead of the honest piece of cake, they get the frosting too."

The man's lips went to a straight line. He moved over to the bags and Jesse followed. "See, I ran with a crew that put in false sides and bottoms." Jesse stuffed both his hands into his pockets and let the Man in Black empty one of the bags onto the porch. Thousands of dollars began to rustle in the wind, threatening to blow away. The man grabbed out fistfuls of bound cash and looked up at McCree once the bag was empty.

"Yer wrong, Morricone," he smirked and held the bag upside down and shook it. "Ain't nothin' here. What game you playin' at?"

"Naw, that's the point," He stated and reached for the bag. The man pulled back and Jesse sighed. "When it was empty, it looked clean as a whistle, but that's cause it all falls to the bottom, where there's this hard part. Gimme it and I'll show you."

He hesitated a moment but then handed it over.  Banditos were all the same. Greedy things always picturing someone was out to trick them. The sad part was, they were usually right. Some damned fool would be out to make a quick buck more than his fair share. That was another lesson Deadlock taught him; when you worked with scum, you got scum.

"See, it all looks like nothing here," Jesse showed him the empty bag and tilted it over and shook it to prove that it was empty.  The other men started to crowd around the spectacle. Jesse set the bag back onto the ground and reached in, "But we all know these damn things have hard bottoms an' lots of dead space in ‘em."  He reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade. He snapped it open with flare and moved his hand back into the bag, keeping the lip open wide so they could peer in and watch as he worked. He looked up as the blade scratched the fibers within.

"Now look here." He said. Five sets of eyes met his. Each of them was wide-eyed in the expectation of a show.  Each of them was sweating like a nun in a whorehouse as well. He licked his lips and made a quick cut with his blade as he spoke. "The bottom is where the loot is. It looks all nice and neat, but with this hard bottom-" He rapped at the plastic piece in the bottom of the bag with his knuckles. "It is so stiff, it is a perfect hiding place."  

This was the part of the act where it got tricky. He took a deep breath and held it. The men leaned in slightly. He looked back down and pulled the ripped bottom of the bag open, exposing two stacks of cash.

Abrakadabra.

The next few moments moved in slow motion. He looked up and watched as the men slowly began to look at one another, then, all hell broke loose.  He snatched the duffle bag away from the ensuing scuffle that broke out and took three long steps back.

The Man in Black moved quick, smashing his elbow into one of his goon's nose as he kicked another straight in the meat and potatoes. As soon as it started, he finished it, snarling at the four under his heel. He turned back to McCree. "How much?" He snarled.

"Just two stacks, boss," Jesse pulled them out and held them up. "Hundreds, two stacks. Guessing around fifteen, maybe twenty thou."

The man nodded, kicking the men one more time for good measure before he stalked over, his eyes were on Jack who sat, huddled away on the opposite side of the porch.

The man's eye traveled back to Jesse, giving him a once over before he spoke again.  "Said you were getting north. What's in Colorado Springs?" he asked.

Jesse let out a wild smile. "Ah man, I got a pretty little Omega back home, ‘bout out to here," he held his arms out, indicating a big belly. "Due any time now. I wanted one last run ‘fore she needed me home for good. A nest egg. Just want my ten percent and I will get outta your hair, Boss."

"Ten?"

He nodded, "Just that. Was told I could get ten. No more, no less." he held the stacks of cash out for the Man in Black.

He licked his lips and nodded slowly,  "Ten. How much you think we got back there?"

Jesse rolled on the balls of his feet, "Four duffle bags stacked full of cash. Gonna guess most of its twenties, to be honest. No bank would hold onto more than a couple thousand in hundreds, in case they get robbed like we did today, so doin' a little mental math…"  He squinted his eyes up at the sky and pursed his lips. "Was told we be looking to grab close to a hundred?" He shrugged. "Can't really tell ya, boss. We--Jackie and me--we were taking care of the hostages. Didn't get a good look at anything really."

"It's closer to five hundred."

Jesse let out a low whistle, "Goddamn, that would be one sweet little nest egg."

The Man in Black nodded again.  "So, Morricone, you as good at math as you are with people?"

"Recon I am, that would be fifty thousand. Damn fine work for an afternoon. One the missus won't have to know about."

The man nodded and knelt down. His goons fell back to lick their proverbial wounds and eyeballing one another, trying to guess which one was the thief.  Either way, Jesse knew the cost of being caught as a cheat. By that time, he planned on being long gone.

The man walked over, handing him a small bag. "Your fifty. For finding out one of my men was a cheat, that's your bonus," he nodded to the stacks in his hand.

Jesse tilted his hat slightly. "Mighty kind of ya."

"Kind of me? Who knows how much I have been bled through the years," He snarled and looked back at his men, who cowered under his gaze.

Jesse nodded a final time and shouldered the bag, "One final thing. The kid," He motioned over. "Want his share of the pot too. You don't want him in your crew. He's," Jesse juggled the words around in his head slowly. "He's a beta," he whispered. "You can smell it all over him. Can't intimidate a kitten."

The man's eye moved over to the boy and he squinted. "You lookin' to take him off my hands?"

"I'm lookin' to get him back to his mama. Boy's so green you can practically see his gills. He came here to impress a damn potential mate."

A chuckle arose from the Man in Black. He shook his head and pulled out another fat stack. "Give this to the boy. Tell him if I ever catch him hangin' round my crew again, I'll skewer him personally."

McCree flipped through the cash and nodded once. It was a pittance, maybe two thousand, but it was worth his life. Probably more cash than the kid had ever seen in one place. "Well, partner, I would say to call on me if ya ever plan a job like this again, but fuck me, I don't ever wanna see your sorry face again," he smiled at the man and moved away, grabbing Jack in the process and hauling the boy to his truck. "Got any bags?"

"No, sir," Jack's eyes were on the wad of cash in his hand. He could practically see the boy start to drool over it.  

"Sounds good." McCree threw open the door and could hear the joints creak. He tossed the bag into the back and grabbed his own bag out of the passenger seat to throw into the bed of the truck.  Behind him, he could hear the loud ranting of the Man in Black. It wouldn't be long before they figured out what he had done. Couldn't rush things though, if he rushed, he would look guilty. Jack held onto the open door and leaned against the frame, his eyes flickered between McCree and the arguing men.

"Hey!" McCree snapped. "Get in. Buckle up. I ain't hangin' around this shithole anymore than I have to."

Jack gave a quick nod and scrambled into the car, slamming the door in his wake.

"Dios Mio," He swore to the heavens as he pulled out a cigarillo and placed it between his teeth. "Is this punishment, Jefe? Are you doing this to me ‘cause I was such a brat? Divine retribution my ass." He finished strapping down his bags and making sure they were secure. "Ain't nice, Reyes, sending me a kid like this." He pointed to the sky. "Hope you and Morrison are getting a good laugh off of this,"

He leaped down and fished out his keys. Without looking, he pressed a button on the key fob before climbing into the cab and starting up the engine. "Got everything you need? Don't need to piss? Good. We ain't comin' back," He spun the truck around in the dirt, kicking up loose sand and creating a cloud around the vehicle as he took off down the road.

The Man in Black was still hollering as they left. Jesse saw him remove his hat and begin to beat one of the goons with it. He was obviously talking about the job. Excellent. It was all going according to plan. His eyes looked over at the kid next to him.

He already seemed so small next to all those big Alphas in the van, but now, sitting alone and dirty inside Jesse's truck, he looked downright pathetic. His hands were grasped tightly in his lap. HIs eyes were trained on the side view mirror.

"They ain't gonna follow us." Jesse rummaged in the side compartment and fished out a lighter. He clicked the flame to life and lip up, taking a nice long drag before rolling down the window a crack.

Jack looked away and to the man sitting next to him.  "How did you do that?"

"Smoke?" He asked, befuddled.

"No, with the bag. How did you do that?"

Jesse smirked. "Ya saw that, did ya?" He shook his head and chuckled. "One thing I have learned in my many years on this earth is that when you work with cheaters, they always think they are being cheated themselves."

He held out the pack of crumpled smokes to the boy. Jack shook his head.

Jesse shrugged and continued, "See, what I have always found is that a little sleight of hand goes a long way. It's all hocus-pocus." He lifted his left hand and flicked his wrist. The queen of spades appeared.  "Give the people what they want to see." He looked at the boy with a smirk.

The boy turned and looked out the window.  

Jesse took another long drag from his cigarillo and sighed, "They were going to shoot us both in the back before we would be allowed to leave.  He didn't trust us a lick and we were both expendable back there. I just...turned the tide."

They sat in silence as McCree continued down the highway. Several police cruisers whizzed by, no sirens. No lights. His grip on the wheel tightened. "Look, kid, I didn't want to see you get hurt. I've gone down that road and it ain't a good one. Those assholes promise you a different life and you think you will get the world, but you ain't nothing but a pawn to them. They say they are family, but if push comes to shove, they will leave your bloated corpse in a ditch for the buzzards to pick at."

"They know who you are," The boy said with a small voice.  "They read your whole file before you got there. They will know how to get you."

Jesse nodded and flicked the butt out the window as he took the final draw of it.  "Then tell me: who am I?"

"Joel Morricone. Ex-military. Said that the government screwed you out of your pension and you are looking to screw them back. Big Alpha. Took out three cops in Salt Lake a few years ago." He mumbled out his words as he wrung the hands in his lap. "They know you have a wife in Colorado Springs. You told the boss she was pregnant."

He shrugged. "Naw, I ain't any of that. Didn't ever take out anyone that didn't need to get taken out. Haven't been to Salt Lake or Colorado Springs in nearly a decade. No wife. No kids." He smirked over. "Well, maybe the military part is true. And being screwed over by the government, but in the end, ain't we all screwed over?" He looked over with his most dazzling smile.  

The boy frowned.

"Name's Jesse," He extended his left hand to awkwardly grip the boy next to him. "Nice to meet ya proper there, Jack. Mostly, I was screwed by Deadlock and I ain't one for the whole forgiveness thing. Figured that was more of God's work to forgive. I just send bad guys to meet him faster."

Jack nodded at that, "Jesse," He rolled the name off his tongue like it was a foreign word and gave another nod.  "I...I don't have a girl back home either." He confessed.

"No?"

"There is this…She won't look my way. Says that I am too small for her. I won't make anything out of myself. She said if I could make something of myself, she'd have me."

"Sounds like a healthy start to a lifelong commitment," he scoffed.

Jack scowled and turned the radio on and the volume up, drowning out any further possibility for conversation. Jesse shrugged wide enough so the boy could see and continued to sing along with the twang of a lovelorn cowboy missing his best girl.

Jesse tapped his foot to the rhythm and hummed along as the song changed over. Every so often he would check his rearview to make sure no one was following them.  It had been a clean getaway. Much easier than he had expected. Somehow, it all felt wrong.

Chapter Text

When the sun started to dip, Jesse pulled over to the side of the road and killed the engine. His gas gage dipped far lower than he liked. That was the problem with these older cars, the kinds of wheels, they ate gasoline like no tomorrow. But damn if they didn't grip the ground better and gave you far more control."Far as we'll go tonight," He smiled and patted Jack's leg. "Come on, get out. Piss and stretch your legs. Watch for scorpions."

"Why are we stopping?"

"I need shut-eye!" Jesse hopped out of the cab and stretched out his back, hearing several vertebrae pop in the process."You do too, been a big day. We will continue west tomorrow. Anyplace special you want to be dropped off? I was thinking of getting lost in LA for a while."

"Never left Amarillo before, sir,"  Jack said as he sank out of the car. He looked nearly boneless.

"Shame. It's a great big world out there, and you have a few fat stacks to your name," Jesse reached behind the driver's seat and pulled out a sleeping mat. He laid it flat on the bed of his truck and brushed off the remaining sand particles.  "If it were me in your shoes, and I was twenty years younger, I would take off and see the world, not stay holed up in this desert."

He turned his attention then to filling up the truck, grabbing the spare gas can in the back flatbed.  Travel in the wide expanse of the American southwest was something to behold. Gorgeous landscapes, and breathtaking sunsets set the whole earth ablaze in a fiery pink haze. But it was empty and long. You could break down and not see another living being for days, depending on where you were.

"Hungry?" He tossed the now empty can back compartment.

Jack quietly nodded and climbed into the back of the truck with McCree.

"Sorry dinner's a little light. Wasn't expecting to share, for one. Two, I eat like shit on the road," he pulled out a box of strawberry Pop-Tarts and some granola bars handing a pack over to the man. "How old are you?"

"Twenty," Jack tore into the sugary dinner like a man who hadn't seen food in a week.  Jesse felt his heart twinge at the all too familiar look. He leaned over and ruffled the kid's dusty blonde hair.

"Seems to me if you are old enough to hold up a bank, you're old enough for a beer," He reached into a cooler that was nowhere near cool and pulled out two long-necked bottles of shitty beer. He popped the cap with his metal fingers and handed one over before taking a long swig of his own.

Jack gave a small smile as he lifted the bottle up and drank before making a face as he swallowed.  

McCree let out a bark of laughter. "Never had a drink before?"

"No, sir."

He laughed louder, whooping into the night air as the stars began to shine bright above them. In the distance, the city skyline of Sante Fe was visible, casting a yellow haze in the dark navy sky. He reclined back against the truck and stretched his arms over his head.  "Shit, kid. Ain't ever left Amarillo, ain't ever had a drink. Ya even fucked?"

Jack's face went pink. He took another long drink from his bottle as Jesse's laughter rolled on.

"I am shitting with you. I don't care if you have or haven't." He nudged the boy with his shoulder.  It was then that it hit him, soft at first. He wondered how long it had persisted. It did not raise any of his hackles or set him off in any way. But why would it? He was Omega.  His experience with others like him was few and in between. He existed in a world of Alphas.

But now, with it presented next to him, he could feel the heat radiating off of the boy next to him. He could see the slight lean of his body as he tried to get as close to Jesse as possible. He could smell the slick.  "When'd it start?"

Jack's eyes locked with his, half-lidded and glazed.  He licked his moist lips slowly. "In the van. A-after we held it up," He whispered. "I could feel it happening. I stayed close to you. I hoped you would notice."

Fuck. McCree sighed and ran a hand through his hair. How could he not have felt that shift in hormones? He looked over. "Kid, this ain't-" He yelped as Jack swung his leg over and straddled his hips and pressed himself against McCree.

Now he could smell the full weight of that heat. The sweet, sticky scent overwhelmed him and raised his hackles.  He never did well with another Omega in heat. He threw his head back and banged it against the truck's rear window, trying to get a breath of clean air.

"I want you, Jesse," Jack's lips pressed against his jaw hard.

Fuck. Fuckity fuck fuck. Jesse grabbed the boy's shoulders and gave him a light shove, "Jack, look, this ain't what it seems. I ain't that way."

Jack's hips ground against him.  "Jesse, I want your knot," He purred into his ear and nipped at the flesh.

Jesse felt panic rise in his gut. He bucked his hips and threw the boy off to tumble back into the metal bed of the truck before he scrambled to stand up. "Kid!" He snapped. He put his hands out to keep the horny Omega back. "Listen to me! I ain't like that!"

Jack sat back and cocked his head to the side. "I'm on the smaller side, you can pretend I am a-"

"What? No! I ain't gotta knot! I ain't an Alpha!" He held his hands up, ready to defend himself in the kid made another pass.

Jack sat back, confused.  "But your scent-" his voice trailed away.

Jesse was shaking as he ran a hand through his hair. "Pheromones, kid. It's cologne. You wore some too, right, to mask your scent so those jackasses didn't figure you out? I do the same."

Jack leaned up and sniffed the air slightly. "You smell Alpha still. Needy."

Jesse felt his eyes roll, "I buy the expensive stuff.  Look at what I do, you think I get any respect if they knew I was anything but Alpha? Fuck no. I'm a damn good liar, kid. You don't want me. I can't please you." Panic continued to rise.  He didn't want to abandon this kid. Not here, in the desert. But he also wasn't in the mood to get groped by an Omega in heat. "Look, you want a knot?"

Jack perked. He nodded enthusiastically.

Jesse swallowed and looked down at his crumpled hat. He pondered what the best course of action would be. What would Reyes do?

"I...know a place," Jesse started.  "A safe place. For people like us, right? They'll have an Alpha for you there."

Jack nodded again, his eyes were glazed over and blown wide. Jesse whispered a silent prayer and leaped from the cab of the truck. "Come on, get in. I'll get us there in a few. It ain't far."

Jack scrambled down and back into the cab. He sat eagerly, like a puppy who was just told he was going to the park.  Jesse didn't even try to tie down what was in the back. He had been jumped once and manhandled by the boy. He was sure if he paused again, he wouldn't get a chance to get another word out before being hauled to the ground.

Birdy's wasn't far from here.  He'd spent a good few heats there himself. Sometimes with another, mostly alone. It was the safest place for him after he left Overwatch for these things.

Before then, he had Angela. And Genji. And Reyes.  They all knew what he was, and none of them ever shamed him for it. Angela never shamed anyone for things out of their control.  She always took his heats with a calculated medical approach that, on paper, seemed cold and sterile, but in practice, she always made sure all his needs were met and that he was safe.  

Genji was the same.  He had no scent, being a cyborg, so they found out after one disastrous mission that left them stranded for a week in Finland during a snowstorm. They had been snowed in with limited communication. Jesse's biology betrayed him, and he went into heat. For once in his life, he was allowed the privilege of contact with another being without the incessant need to procreate or banish.  Genji made crude jokes about being a living dildo, but Jesse never felt that need around him. Genji could hold him through the worst of it, talk him down from every ledge and comfort him when he needed it most. When Morrison and Tracer arrived to get them, he had managed to make it through the worst of it with minimal scrapes and bruises.

Reyes had started it all though...Reyes knew his secret and kept it safe. Off the record. In all his years at Overwatch, no one ever questioned him. There was only one time someone ever questioned his ability to perform based on his biology. Morrison, Amari and Reyes had both took turns ripping that damn shrink a new asshole.  He never felt more loved or cared for in his life.

The new Jack shifted in his seat. His hips rolled as he bit his lower lip. His cheeks dusted a darker pink.  Jesse rolled his eyes. Damn kid masturbating in his truck. "Hey!" He looked over. "If you stain the seats, you're paying for it!" He shouted.

The boy pouted as he slowed, but did not stop. It was like he was not used to hearing no as an answer.

Jesse turned on his blinker and headed down another dusty road. Birdy's was outside Albuquerque city limits.  On paper, it was just a shitty hotel with bad reviews. Most people questioned how such an ugly, run down looking joint could continue to stay in business all these years. The simple answer was, this wasn't a vacation spot.

Jesse pulled into an empty spot, surprised at how packed the parking was tonight. He wondered if everyone was going into a heat or what the fuck was going on. He moved out of the truck and dragged the kid along with him by the scruff of his neck.  He grabbed the black bag out of the backseat and flung it over his opposite shoulder as he led Jack into the hotel.

Under the lamplight in the chilling air, three Alphas whistled as they passed. Jesse took a quick side glance at them. All of them were in black chaps with large hats and shiny boots.  He raised an eyebrow at their appearance. They were too clean. Too well pressed.

Costumes?

Jack turned and looked back at them, his eyes glazing over as he watched the group of men advance. "Nope," Jesse shook the boy and lifted him higher, so he walked on the balls of his feet. "I ain't bringing you this far to let you hump like a dog in a parking lot. You're getting a decent room and a clean Alpha. Not some damn cokehead." He snarled back at the three, causing them to back off immediately.  The three shrunk back, under the safety of the streetlamp.

The main entry was illuminated brightly. Soft piano music wafted over the speakers.  There were already people sitting in the entryway, dressed in striped corsets and long plumed feathers.  Jesse raised an eyebrow at the girls as they giggled and waved. He tilted his hat to them. "Ma'am,"

Jack did his best goldfish impression at them. He released the boy and forced him to turn around. "Listen, you are here as my guest. Do not get yourself in trouble." He patted the boy down, pulling several small blades off him and pocketing them quickly.

"Jesse-fucking-McCree," Came a soft southern voice, like that of an angel dipped in honey. Jesse turned and smiled at the woman at the counter.  She wore pink. Bright, brilliant pink. Her dark, chocolate hair was pinned into a messy bun at the top of her head, with the same shade of brilliant pink feathers sticking every way out.  

"Stars alive, Bernadette, did I just step two hundred years in the past?" He moseyed on over to the counter and leaned forward, giving her his most brilliant smile, tipping his hat back. "Howdy."

The woman let out a loud bark of laughter, "Shit, McCree, there is a damn convention in town. Found it was a better use of our time to play a little dress up while we tickle their pickle. Wallets open much faster to an experience over just a room-and-rut." Her eyes moved to the small Omega currently being fondled by her girls.  "What brings you this way?"

"You know, the usual; work," he shrugged. "Got myself saddled with that cute little thing back there, then he had to ruin the moment by trying to climb me. He's in it bad, Birdy."

Bernadette's smile faded as she stood up straight, "How long?"

"Few hours. He kept it under control ‘til he thought the mood was right. He needs a safe space. You are the safest of spaces."

"You flatter me."

"I do flatter you. He needs an Alpha. Bad. I don't feel right leaving the boy out there in his condition," His smile faded as he spoke, locking eyes with her sweet brown ones. "That's how Deadlock gets ‘em, Birdy."

"You don't have to remind me, McCree. I know how it is."  Bernadette let out a sigh and hand her long fingertips over the counter, drumming her fingers. "You will vouch for him?"

He nodded, "Room and board on me. Feel a mite bit responsible for all this," He dug into his side pocket and handed her a wad of bills. "That's two hundred. For the night. I'll come back tomorrow morning and we will get the rest of this square. I'll pay for however long he's...in that way."

Birdy took the money and slowly counted. "Tomorrow we will get square," she echoed and looked over at the girls. She gave them a quick nod. Jack was shuffled to the back room, a girl on each of his arms.  "Know his preferences?"

"Not a clue," he smiled. "Told me about a girl back home, then jumped me. I say bring out a spread and let him choose."

"We'll take good care of him,"  Birdy chuckled and moved out from behind the counter. She looked him up and down. Jesse stretched out and preened under her gaze. "Now, what are your plans, Jesse McCree?"

"Me? Well, if you like, I can sleep in my truck and stay out of your way. I know you ain't got nothing to my style here. And with your new venture, it looks like you don't have room to spare for a guy looking to get drunk and sleep it off."

"I know what you like, Jesse McCree," She purred.

Jesse arched a brow at that. "I reckon you do, Miss Birdy, but you and I both know that what I like don't generally like me." He crossed an arm over his chest.

"You like ‘em big and strong," She purred out.  "A big Alpha with strong arms. One that challenges you."

Jesse quirked an eyebrow.  Birdy always had something for him. She would talk big, Alphas that fit into his favorite preferences. None of them ever liked him back though.  Most Alphas prefer a pretty little Omega that would bend over backward to please. No Alpha was looking for someone that could fight back. They didn't want a challenge in a potential mate."I'm listening."

"I got this client in the other night. Alpha through and through, let everyone know it too.. He's looking for something very specific. I have sent every Omega I have at him. Boys, girls. He rejected them all. He doesn't want another wilting Omega that will just bend over and take it.  I was going to throw an Alpha at him tonight, see if that perked his taste."

"He in a rut?" Jesse asked.

"Not yet.  He has some synth with him. Says that he is here at work, I'm guessing this convention that is downtown. Either way, he said he wanted a synthetic rut."

Jesse chewed his lower lip. He had himself, gone through a synthetic heat in the past.  They were never comfortable. Take a few pills and your body is tricked into going into a heat. It lasted a twelve, maybe twenty-four hours, but it was usually enough to stay off a full-blown, week-long bought with it. Alphas didn't rut as often as he did, but, thinking about it, when was his last heat? Months ago..."Yeah, that does sound good," He mumbled out.

Birdy smiled and took his arm and led him down the back way, into the halls meant for her workers.  "I know you ain't on the payroll, but damn it, McCree, I don't want an Alpha in a rut in my establishment without someone there to satisfy him. Or kick his ass out if he gets too rough."

"And why me?"

"Cause you are special, Jesse McCree. You know that. You are special and this Alpha needs special. Charm your way into his bed. He wants someone that can handle himself. And I have seen your charm your way into many uncharming places."

"What's the catch?" Jesse grumbled. "You ain't tellin' me something. He dangerous? Ugly? He's ugly as sin, ain't he?"

"He wants them quiet too. No conversation. This man is all business. I'll throw in some synth for you. Free. On the house. Please, Jess." She stopped and moved in front of him, squeezing both his arms. "He is paying me well, and I'm afraid if he don't get what he wants soon, he'll want his money back. I can't afford that Jess."

"He clean?"

"Don't I always run a background check on clients? You can't get a room without a clean bill of health."

Jesse sighed loudly, his shoulders fell. "Get me into your damn doctor. Get me your damn synth and I'll see what I can do.”

Chapter Text

Birdy shuffled him into the back room and to her doctor. The doctor worked quickly, drawing blood before moving into the back room to give Jesse time to get himself presentable.  Birdy always had a calm way about her, shuffling patrons around and putting them at ease, but still, she remained professional. Never would she put anyone in harm’s way, especially when it came to health.  It was one thing to have two Alphas duke it out in the parking lot with fists and chains and a whole different problem when a place of ill-repute came down with a reputation for being dirty.

He shuffled himself around the woman’s personal office, poking his head out the drawn curtains to see the glow of the city miles away. She kept things rustic, with warm desert browns and pinks, making it look a lot like his abuelita’s living room if she had the money to pay a local artist to paint a mural of the mesas during sunset.  It would come off as tacky, but it gave her whole establishment an air of authenticity. You could meet a whore downtown and go to the Days Inn if you wanted a quick fuck, or you could drive out a little way and have a real authentic western experience.

Jesse snorted and threw his duffle bag into the big locker under her desk, spinning the wheel and removing the key to slip into his pocket.  Sure she had lockers downstairs for guests but Jesse was different. He was always different to her.

Gabe had made sure of that.

He kicked off his boots and left them by the door as he moved to the adjoining bathroom attached to her office. Further on he knew he would find her own living quarters.  Birdy had been set up real nice here, never needing to leave the comfort of her business unless absolutely necessary. He wondered if the woman ever did leave.

The whole mess happened about three years into the Blackwatch program.  Gabe hadn’t trusted him enough to take missions by himself and instead used his knowledge of the American Southwest. Deadlock was his bread and butter, understanding not only how they moved stock around, but also their recruitment tactics and how they handled the hierarchy of the sexes.

Jesse had assumed then-correctly so- that Gabe already had all that information well at hand, but calling McCree the expert on the area, both with the locals as well as with geography, put a lot of people’s minds at ease, despite his young look.

Birdy was one such Omega.  Recently released from a Deadlock holding cell, she had run right into the arms of Overwatch with information on a potential terrorist attack only to be met with more loud, boisterous Alphas who made the girl skittish enough to clam up faster than Morrison’s wallet on payday.

It wasn’t until another Omega came around that she suddenly relaxed and was able to provide them with enough information to eradicate Deadlock from the area, as well as set herself up with a pretty little nest egg of her own.

It seemed she didn’t squander her chance to make something of herself, Jesse mused as he stepped onto the natural stone tiles of her personal showers.  Business must be good if she was able to treat herself so.

The cool shower felt wonderful on his overheated skin. The day’s events were finally catching up with him. Suddenly, he felt the exhaustion seep into his bones and wallow around the marrow, leaving behind a tired ache deep inside.  Jesse leaned his forehead against the cool tiles of the bath, watching the sandy, brown water roll off his body and down the drain. When was the last time he was able to enjoy the sensation of decent water pressure, rolling down his back and working out the kinks that had long since become a part of his body?  

It had been far too long.  Safe houses and caches were left unattended for years at a time and had little supply, to begin with. Shelters gave better water pressure, but hardly any warmth or comfort. It was jobs like this that left him thankful for the alliances he made along the way, which allowed him this modicum of peace for just long enough to lean his weary self along the cool tile and savor the experience.

He found a wrapped bar of soap on the ledge, left for his use to clean up.  Leave it to Birdy to make sure he didn’t show up to some Alpha stinking like the great outdoors. He smiled as he ran the small bar over his body, soaping away the remaining sweat and grime that lingered until he once again felt human.

The Alpha wanted something different? Unusual, to say the least.  Men, Alpha men, usually went for the stereotypical Omega. Small frames with exaggerated features-big soulful eyes and expressive mouths. Small and young and completely virginal.  A laugh in a place like this. No one was a virgin except maybe a customer or two. Never one of Birdy’s employees.

What could this man want in him? A fetish seeker, maybe, but Birdy was always attentive, never allowing a customer with peculiar tastes near her kin.  Maybe just a lazy old Alpha who enjoyed experience over beauty.

He snorted, peering down at his own body. Pride was now on the line. Jesse McCree was no spring chicken. Overall, he was sundamanged, calloused and used.  Crows feet danced at the edges of his eyes, a telling sign that he spent far too much time indulging in smoke and drink while a thin layer of fat rested around his midsection that, in his youth, would have gone away with just a few extra workout sessions. Now, it was his constant. He didn’t even know when it came to be a part of him. He let his hands run along his scalp, pleased with the thickness that he still had there. All in all, he still considered him a relatively good-looking man. A little worn around the edges, for sure but still, in some ways, he was a catch.

Too bad everyone that reeled him in threw him back.

He was too big for an Omega. Too tall and too wide. Too hairy. Too much. Alphas saw him on equal footing and for most of them, it was a turn-off. Omegas were meant to be timid and meek and modest. They weren’t meant to stand toe-to-toe with their Alpha and drink them under the table.

His hand slammed into the pressure sensor harder than needed and the water quickly turned off. He stepped out and toweled himself dry.  There were some things he could do, he reasoned, to make himself appear closer to what an Omega should be. Birdy’s people set out a brown toiletry bag by the sink, complete with fresh razor and scissors.  It was one thing looking scruffy for a job, he reasoned. It was another to try and woo a man and look like a homeless grizzly bear. If he had more time, perhaps he could have done a little more grooming, but this was just a one-night thing. Why ruin his whole persona for a man he had yet to meet.

McCree quickly washed his face and combed out his beard. Trimming himself up took very little time, it was just enough to make sure it was even and neat, not enough to make himself look more than his usual, ruggedly handsome self. He was pleasantly surprised to find the bottle of beard oil set among the shaving supplies.  Apparently Birdy herself found his look too good to pass up.

His hair was wild. Even wet, the cowlick at the back stood straight out of his scalp.  It was on the verge of being too long and sending him right from ‘wicked desperado’ into ‘unwashed hippy’ territory, but at present, it still was good enough for the night.  Maybe in the morning Birdy could direct him to a barber who would shave him down for a modest fee.

Jesse looked himself over one final time in the mirror, satisfied with the image he presented before slipping on a fresh pair of blue jeans and flannel shirt.  Whatever happened, he didn’t plan on wearing it long anyway. If rejected, he would find his way back to his car, where he would slip on a long-sleeved hoodie.

If not…

The table by the door held a card and two pills on a white plate. The doctor apparently cleared him from anything hazardous, it seemed. He moved over to the note and read it over her careful scripted handwriting. ‘Pills are for a synthetic heat. Take right away.  They will be potent in a half hour.’ He crumpled up the note and threw it into the wastebasket as he lifted the white keycard and flipped it over, finding another note. ‘Room 506. He doesn’t like talkers.’

He groaned and rolled his eyes as stuffed both pills deep into his pocket.  There was no way in hell that he was going to inebriate himself in such a way.  He had dealt with bad synthetic heats on his own before and had seen the some of the more awful side effects of rotten synthetics had on other Omegas.  

Deadlock had utilized such a thing to keep their Omegas in a constant heat state.  The poor things were out of their heads with need, begging anyone that neared for some welcomed relief.  He hated the loss of control enough with his own biology.

Besides, it was a myth that Omegas only experienced arousal during their heats. It was even more ridiculous to assume that any arousal meant that the Omega experienced what was pleasantly known as a “La Baise Infime” because American doctors stating it in French made it less rude and more cultured.  

Like Omegas themselves; infantilized to the point of being just another decoration. A show of wealth and strength. As if people could be categorized so easily.

Jesse headed down the hall and took the elevator up to the top floor.  No wonder Birdy wanted this guy to stay. Fifth floor was suites. Jesse grumbled as shoved his hand deep into his pocket to grab a cigarillo. He grumbled louder as he found his pocket empty, save his phone. He must have left them in his other pants, not that it would have mattered.  It was a smoke-free building. Last time he was here, Birdy chewed him out for four hours when she smelt the faint aroma of cloves and tobacco left hanging on his persona. It didn’t matter he leaned out the window. It was a night, he reminded himself. He could last a night without nicotine.

Especially now.  

The elevator dinged as he reached the fifth floor and his limbs seemed to move of their own accord as he moved down to room 506. Already he could feel the heat radiating down his spine and pooling in the center of his belly. He was not a fan of artificial heats. They burned too hot too fast and left him weak-limbed, but there was something to be said about the anticipation that got him nearly as hot as a heat. Already his head began to swim in a drunken haze, blocking out every other part of the world that didn’t have to deal with his biology.

He stood in front of the door and closed his eyes, swaying slightly as he imagined the scent of the Alpha within.  It was absurd to think that the thick, woodsy scent would permeate outside the room. Birdy would not have allowed that. She wouldn’t permit scents to mingle in an area where heats could be triggered. Alphas and Omegas losing their shit in the middle of the hallway was bad for business to have people fucking like animals in the halls.

But his brain lied.  He leaned against the door and breathed it in. The scent was like a crisp autumn morning, it lingered around him and drew him in closer.  How long had it been since he last took an Alpha in a rut? Months….no. It had been years since his last true tumble in the sheets. But this room...He could smell the Alpha within. He could smell the synthetic rut.

His teeth grit down at the slightly metallic scent that lingered inside his brain. There was something so unnatural about forcing yourself into a rut.  Alphas, in his experience, were easy to set off. It took just the thought of Omegas in heat to get their blood pumping and that machismo going. He knew from Deadlock the effects an Omega in heat had on the Alpha brain.

Aggression was what mostly came out of it. The want to possess and own. The need to fight off any other Alphas in the area and prove they were the most Alpha of the Alphas. It was a sick display of virility that he quickly learned in Overwatch was completely controllable, not that most Alpha’s chose to do so.  It was considered their right to butt heads and showboat around the base.

Gabe at least always kept a level head.  He never stooped to their level and always -Always- put an unruly Alpha back into pecking order. Gabe was always on top, everyone else was beneath him and damn it, if you didn’t shape up he would make you run suicides until you vomited blood. It didn’t matter if the person playing ‘quien es mas macho’ was the scrawny kid he picked up in the middle of nowhere and just happened to be an Omega.  Gabe was in charge and everyone listened.

Jesse shook his head of the thoughts and pressed the palm of his hand against his brow, pressing in as the scent lingered still.  Why could he smell it outside the door? It tickled the part of his brain that wanted, needed to be enraptured by another human being, but without the synthetic in his system, it just smelled...off.

Jesse bought his flesh hand to his chest and slowly ran it down towards his belt buckle, feeling his skin prickle under the fabric. He groaned loudly. It was just the fact that it was not a real rut, he told himself.  He was on edge because his brain could detect it wasn’t real. None of this was real. It was a laugh. A parody of what was real so he could feel normal for once. Tomorrow things would go back to the same. For the night, though, he would play it out and see where he would get.  He hoped the Alpha was good.

God, he hoped he wouldn’t be rejected. Again.

Jesse raised his hand off his chest and rapped twice on the door before sliding the keycard into the lock and swung the door open. He swallowed as he stepped inside, the dark scent of the Alpha hit him like a wall. This was not just some synthetic scent.  This was real. True Alpha scent. It was calm and collected. Dominating.

“Hello?” He managed to get out as he stepped into the shadowed entryway. He meant for there to be more to his greeting. He had meant to say something charming and witty, using his pure charisma to win over the Alpha before their eyes ever met, but his brain shut down. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned against the open door, drinking in the scent.

What was wrong with him? He spent his life around dominate Alphas before, all of them raised his hackles. But this...In one glorious instant, he found himself wanting to bury his face in that man’s neck and just inhale everything that he had.

Why did it smell so differently right outside?

“Do you plan on leaving the door open?” Came the reply from deeper within the suite. Jesse’s eyes snapped open and he stumbled forward. Suddenly, he felt more grounded.  The Alpha was real, with a deep timbre to his voice that was commanding and matched the intoxicating scent. Jesse shut the door and took in his surroundings- Fuck that was a nice voice.

The suite had a long hall before it reached the main rooms. The lights were off, save for a solitary light in the main rooms which cast long shadows in the dark hall. To his left was a kitchenette, with a fridge and small stove. On the counter sat a large crate of bottled waters, all still saran wrapped together. Bottles of half-drunk dark liquors were lined up behind the water. To his right was a shut door. The bathroom maybe? Birdy had remodeled since the last time he had stayed.  Before, the nests for heats were just that, simple rooms with very little furniture. It was a space to hold out while waiting for the heat to pass. Now, it was elegant, a place that he was sure many Omegas in the area wished to stay.

His boots fell heavy on the hardwood floor as he took a step into the Alpha’s domain, clomping loud enough to cause him to pause.  He could hear Gabe in his head, scolding him for his lack of manners. He stopped and lifted his leg, pulling off one boot at a time as he leaned against the frame of the door to keep his balance.  He may have been clean, but his boots sure weren’t.

Jesse deposited the boots by the door, set next to a polished black set of Italian leather loafers before he wiped his hands on his jeans. Suddenly his palms were sweaty. He could feel a trickle of sweat down his spine.  Was it even hot in here?

He stepped further into the room before he stopped and also removed his hat, hanging it on the back of the door. It was impolite to wear hats inside.  He wanted to make a good first impression. His mind was now craving the approval of an Alpha as was his body. He didn’t even need the synthetic. His body was doing a fine job on its own without the aid of a drug. He craved this much approval from the man he hadn’t even met.

It had been too long between trysts if this is how he felt before even seeing the guy.

He heard a shift from the main room, where the solitary light was on. The man, the Alpha, was seated in a chair, a book open on in his lap. In his right hand was a cocktail of some sort. Even from this distance, he was gorgeous. Dark hair was tied back low at the base of his neck. Jesse had never observed a man who looked so damn fine in a black tailored suit that looked like he had been sewn into it. Broad shoulders led down to long legs that were crossed. He appeared to be Asian, Japanese maybe, he couldn’t be sure at a glance. In his brain, he could hear the entire hallelujah chorus. The man was everything he could have dreamed.

Jesse shuffled forward and stood in the room, waiting to be addressed. Birdy said he wasn’t one for talkers. He could play at that, at least for a little while. The scent settled in his bones and his higher thinking kicked in again as he watched the other man, slowly he came back to himself.

The man’s fingers deftly turned a page, completely ignoring Jesse’s presence. He took a long drink of the amber colored liquid, the sound of the ice cubes clinking together was the only sound in the room.  Jesse watched his Adam’s apple bob as he swallowed and suddenly, he felt hot all over once again. Damn, how was it such a nice throat could be enough to get him all worked up. Jesse was lost and he knew it.

He moved to set his glass down elegantly on the arm of the chair, his finger rolling along the rim of the glass slowly. Jesse caught the sight of blue shift on the man’s wrist, under the cuff.  A tattoo.

Was this guy Yakuza? It was not uncommon for gang members from Japan to sport elaborate tattoos...In Japan, it was still fairly taboo to get a tattoo, let alone one that could be seen that easily would make it more likely.

‘ Or dummy ,’ his brain shouted, ‘ He’s an American that just happens to be Asian. Not that weird .’  Jesse listened to his brain and straightened himself up.

The man’s dark eyes turned up as Jesse shuffled again. His eyebrow quirked and he set the glass down on the table with a slight clink. He didn’t speak and just looked Jesse over, from his socks.  It was hard to miss the quirk of the eyebrow as his gaze paused at Jesse’s torso before trailing up to his ears. The book stayed open on his lap, his finger placed on the page to mark his spot. Jesse felt himself growl a little at the lack of response.

“Birdy said you rejected everything else she had, so she sent me instead. Said I was more to your taste.” The pheromones off of the man intensified as his eyes swept over Jesse’s form.  Jesse smirked, “So this is what you get. And unlike some milquetoast Omega, I ain’t gonna just roll over and submit to your knot.”

The book shut with a snap. The Alpha’s eyes were dark as he rose. Jesse could not tell if it was their natural color, or if they were just so lust blown they appeared black. Birdy said he took a synth, he would be well on his way to being out of his head. Jesse squared his shoulders back as the Alpha circled him as if he were prey.

“Do I get a name, Alpha?” Jesse smirked as he caught the man’s gaze lingering on his package. He shifted his weight and looped his thumbs in his belt.

“I haven’t decided yet, Cowboy,” The man stopped in front of him.  He was about six inches shorter than Jesse, but then again, most people were. Jesse stood at a reasonable 6’1”. His hat and boots usually put him closer to 6’6” but even here, barefoot and bareheaded, he knew he was impressive.

Jesse’s eyes traveled to the man’s lips, which were upturned in a smirk. At least it seemed he had approved of Jesse’s facade. The man’s face was his best feature. Not a blemish in sight. The only thing amiss on his features was the slight arc in his nose, giving the impression of an old break that had been corrected, but never completely fixed. Thick eyebrows crossed, over hard, steely dark grey eyes that seemed to scrutinize every aspect of Jesse and pick out every flaw. His dark hair grayed at the temples, aging him slightly and made him look more distinguished, rather than old. His face was framed with a well-manicured goatee that led to a point with scowling, plump lips that Jesse wanted to lean down and capture in his teeth.  The man was beautiful.

“Tell me your name,” The man said. His voice was thick, like velvet. It was an order. Jesse felt a tremble rocket through his body. His impulse was to make a snappy retort. To see that pretty mouth of his turn into a scowl.

Instinct overrode impulse. It was rude and he was raised to be more than that.  Besides, the man didn’t want a talker, he wanted someone interesting. “Jesse,” His voice came out huskier than he intended. He swallowed and licked his suddenly dry lips.  Might as well not lie, he told himself in the wake of his words. There was a chance Birdy had informed this man all about Jesse and to be caught in a lie would just ruin his evening.

“Jesse,” the man echoed and brought a hand up to run over his chest. Jesse preened under his touch and pushed his chest out into the strong hand. The man quirked an eyebrow as he pressed his hand into Jesse, pulling a delicate moan from the other, just enough of one to question if it really existed...

He was prepared for the quick grab of his shirt. He expected the Alpha to want to dominate and show Jesse just how possessive he was. That was in an Alpha's nature. What he didn’t expect was the pull and the leg sweep that sent him crashing hard into the ground.

Wind knocked out of him, Jesse gasped as he looked up at the cold features of the man as he smoothly dropped down on top of Jesse’s hips and raised his fist back, ready to attack.

Jesse reacted. Quickly, he raised his arms up to block his face as the fist came down hard. It clanged on his metal arm. He felt the reverberations through his prosthetic and up his arm into his shoulder as the man gave a grunt of pain. The only sign that he felt anything at all.

Training kicked in. He was out of practice, but it was still there. A little more weight around his center, but he still carried a mean punch. His hips bucked upwards as he grabbed the assassin’s arm in his metal one and flipped him off.

The assassin landed hard on his back. Jesse scrambled back to his feet, cursing his courtesy and wishing he kept his boots on. He backed up a fraction and put up his hands, blocking his face as the assassin fluidly kicked his legs out and flipped back to standing.

Never be on the defense. Always be fighting. Jesse jabbed his front fist out, narrowly missing the assassin as he leaned away and easily blocking it back with his bare hand. Jesse used the momentum, swinging out his back, left fist and listening to groan of pain as the assassin caught this hand as well.

He was fast. Faster than Jesse, at least.  He could not outrun the dark man, but he could hit harder. Incapacitate him and wear him down.

The assassin let out a loud grunt as he kicked his lower leg. Jesse anticipated the move and blocked the kick with his own leg. His leg spasmed as it clanged against something metal beneath the man’s pants. He definitely could not outrun prosthetic legs. Fighting his way out was his only chance.

Peacekeeper was his weapon of choice. It was easier to keep assassins at bay from fifty yards back rather than inches from his face. But his gun was safely locked up in the main office, with the rest of his supplies. He cursed his damn horndog brain.

He rushed, jabbing out and pushing the assassin back as he landed one, quick thrust on the man’s cheekbone. If he had to go, at least his executioner was gorgeous. He didn’t mind a bit mucking him up though. No one would ever say Jesse McCree was a quitter. “Who sent you?” He barked out.

The assassin smirked. He fucking smirked as he rushed forward. His fist came from the side, landing squarely on his left shoulder and missing his prosthetic. The man was learning, it seemed. He was collected and fast thinking. Shit. He was not some backward wannabe Yakuza. This was a full-on assassin.

Jesse switched tactics.  The man wasn’t going to speak English now, so why not try Japanese? “Who sent you?” He snarled out again in the man’s native tongue.

The assassin paused, the smirk growing into a genuine smile, “You are smarter than you look,” He rushed forward and twisted his hip, bringing his knee up for a strike.  

Jesse blocked again and again as the assassin pushed him back, each time he felt the deep punctures of whatever was attached to the man’s prosthetic legs. “Ain’t some whelp, if that’s what ya think.” He panted and ducked away as the man’s leg came up.

Crescent kick. A crescent kick always followed a series of knee strikes. The form would be to grab his head and knee him in the face, alternating between legs.

That was how Genji attacked aways.  

He grappled out, managing to snag the man’s ankle and flipped upwards, sending the man sprawling on his back. He was wide-eyed as he stared in disbelief.

Jesse chuckled and stumbled back. His lungs burned. Fuck, how could he have allowed himself to get this out of shape? “How-”

“Shimada Clan,” The assassin chuckled as the blood drained from the other’s face.  Ah, he was Yakuza then.

“Fought your kind before. Predictable moves.”

The man frowned and slowly returned to his feet.  He was covered in a sheen of sweat, but he did not look winded in the slightest. Instead, he looked furious.  “Then you know that we are never second best.”

“You are real cute with your little gazelle ankles there,” Jesse tried to not pant.  He watched as the man’s face darkened more. He lifted his fists up and dodged the next series of punches that came right for his face. He made smaller jabs, trying to catch the assassin around the chest as he backed away from the sweeping, low kicks of the other.

It was just like fighting against Genji.  The cyborg always worked himself up, especially when they first started training together. It took only a few choice words and he would see red. And like a bull in a china shop, Jesse could knock him down with ease. That was the tactic he took with every new Yakuza he encountered. They all were duty and honor bound. It was easy to rile them up and knock them down.

He swung his arm up and caught his leg again as the man dipped down low to the ground. It was a feigning attack.  He would look like he would sweep his legs and while Jesse reacted, he would overcompensate and bring his leg down over his head.  The angered look of shock from the assassin made this almost worth it. He had spent years training with his cyborg buddy. Years perfecting the perfect defense to his every move to the point where the ninja had to incorporate Jesse’s own boxing stance into his routine.

It was almost fun to see that angry look in those pretty eyes.

He tossed the assassin back as he moved behind the chair where the man had previously been sitting. He needed to put some distance between them as he felt the sweat pour off his brow. “Still think I can kick your ass. I hit you more than you’ve hit me.”

“And yet I am not close to being winded and you look like you are about to pass out.” The assassin smirked.  He could see it through, the carefully, calculated breaths of air, hiding the exhaustion. The control he had over his body was intimidating.

Jesse smirked and ran his flesh arm over his face, smearing the perspiration more than removing it.  “I can go all night, sweetheart. Just gimme a moment and I’ll be right back to kicking your sorry ass all the way to Mexico.”

The assassin’s arms stayed firmly up as his mouth quirked down as he looked Jesse over.

He took a chance. “You know, you ain’t the first assassin to come after me. Definitely the prettiest, but not the first.”

A high flush crossed over the back of the assassin’s neck. He was more disheveled than Jesse previously assumed. His shirt clung to his skin and looked nearly translucent in the low light of the suite.  His neat hair, now disheveled and pointing out at weird angles, but still, he was absolutely breathtaking. “Why do you insist on talking?”

“Was told you didn’t like talkers much. Figured I could annoy you into defeat,” He smirked again, knowing it would anger the Alpha more.  “At least figured you could tell me who hired you and why.”

“Does it truly matter at this point?”  The Alpha stated. “I have you at the disadvantage in every way and you cannot outrun me.”

“You cheat with those little chicken legs!”  Jesse motioned over and watched as the smirk widened on the assassin’s features. “And don’t you make no comment about my physique.”

“I was not planning on that,” The assassin stated.  “You are rather impressive yourself. Most of my targets do not pose a challenge to me.”

“You’re welcome. I’m thrilled that you find me impressive. Who sent you?”

“You will not get off that, will you?”

Jesse sighed and rolled his shoulders back. He could already feel the bruises forming beneath his skin.  “Can we call a truce for a moment here?” He pointed down to the glass that still sat by the undisturbed chair as he saw a short nod.  “Got any more of that?”

The assassin motioned to the left of him, towards the entrance. “What is your poison?”

He let out a bark of laughter as he stepped forward, a little more swagger to his step.  He could still smell the Alpha’s scent. It was much more potent now, not as sexual but still very much aroused.  “That how you are planning on doing it? Poison?”

“The plan was honestly to break your neck when I first got you on the floor,” the assassin pulled out a bottle of bourbon and a glass from the small bar set up in the kitchenette.  He returned and set them on the floor before stepping back.

Jesse nodded his thanks and swept them both up. The seal on the bottle was still intact. The lid was a metal screw on kind, no cork. There would have been no way for him to inject any poison on it.

The glass could be contaminated.  

He twisted off the cap and took a short drink, straight from the bottle.

“I did not tamper with it,” The assassin stated.  “Poison is not my style. It is...dishonest.”

“Oh, so I am lucky enough to get an honest assassin.” He nodded and tipped the bottle back again, feeling the burn of the alcohol as it traveled down his throat and sat warmly in his belly. “Good for me, I guess. Though you could have found a nicer way to get me up here. Tellin’ me you wanna good Omega and then trying to get me all sexed up. Was it Deadlock that sent you? Don’t really seem like their style, hiring outside the family, but I have eluded them fer nearly two decades.”

The assassin frowned, crossing his arms over his chest. “What do you mean?”

“Blackwatch?” He arched a brow. “Again, defunct military organization, but I made plenty of enemies there in my time. Los Muertos dun have the funding to pay someone like you,” Jesse continued.

“What-”

“You know, you are the best assassin I’ve ever had on my hide. My guess is you didn’t come cheap, you know, being in a tailored suit and a Yakuza from Japan.  They really want me dead.”

The assassin’s face contorted, his nose wrinkling up as his fists balled heavily at his sides. “Enough!” He shouted. “Stop interrupting me, you stupid cowboy. What do you mean I lied to get you here? I did no such thing.”

Jesse scoffed and rolled his eyes. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the two tablets and held them out.  “An Alpha. Looking for a good time. Ring any bells?”

The Alpha gave a quick shake of his head as he moved forward, plucking them out of Jesse’s hand.  “I did no such thing, Cowboy.” He paused and frowned wider, rolling the pills along his fingers.

Jesse stepped further back. He didn’t wish to get flipped and pinned to the ground yet again. He waited patiently.

“I was given your name and a location. You were supposed to meet me here and I was to-” He faltered as he spoke. “I was to take you out.  The request was that it should look natural. I was not aware of your….condition.”

Jesse sputtered, “Excuse me, my what?”

“If I had known you were an Omega, I would have turned down the contract,” Hanzo stated, setting the pills on the end table. “It is uncouth to-”

“Uncouth?”  Jesse let out another bark of laughter. He raised a hand to his head and ran his fingers through his thick hair.  He reached down and snatched the pills up, shoving them deep into his pocket. “I think it is time to put our cards on the table here. Tell me all you know and I tell you all I know. First, Jesse McCree, wanted outlaw, former member of Overwatch. I have a giant bounty on my head and more enemies than I have fingers.”

“You only possess five fingers,” The assassin stated a smirk still evident on his face.   

Jesse scowled at the biting remark. “Your turn.”

The assassin moved fluidly into the chair he had previously occupied, his eyes still trained on Jesse. He slowly crossed his legs as the other found occupation as he righted a toppled chair and sank into the plush, white seat,  “I was hired by an anonymous person. I was brought to this city under contract and was given orders when I arrived through cryptic letters. I have not actually met my employer but will be paid in full when I give proof of death. I assume my payment method will be similar to how I acquired the job; discreetly. I am beginning to think that whoever employed me has chosen to omit some relevant facts.”

Jesse nodded slowly, listening to every word he stated.  “Like me being an Omega.”

The assassin nodded. “I am not in the business of killing Omegas and children.”

“Women are okay though?”

The man smirked. “Women are able to fight back just as well as men are.  I have been called on to eliminate certain obstacles for clients who just happened to be women, yes. Omegas are delicate though.”

“That’s sexist as hell, but it is good to know you ain’t gonna kill me anymore,” Jesse groaned and sat back, tipping back the bottle of bourbon to take another long draw of the amber liquid. His eyes stayed locked on the Alpha in front of him.

“I may make an exception for you,” The assassin frowned more. “Is there anything else you need to know?”

“How much?”

“Six-hundred thousand for proof of death,” Hanzo stated. “I am sure it is considerably less than your bounty, but it is not like I am in any position to be able to collect.” He lifted the glass near his arm and swirled it around causing the ice to tinkle inside.  

“You’re getting screwed,” He smirked as he lifted the bottle back up to his lips. It was worth it to see the man in front of him scowl deeper.  “Need to tack on a few zeros on the end to get what my bounty is. Someone’s playing you. Unless you are in it for the thrills. I met quite a few assassins that came after me just ‘cause they wanted the challenge.”

“I assure you, I am in it for the money,” He stated. “And it is my guess I have a much greater bounty on my own head.  It has been a while since I last checked my own numbers.”

Oh. Oh, that was it. Jesse smirked and leaned forward as he started in.  “Look at you, sittin’ there all humble-braggin’ about how much you got on you and how you don’t kill kids and Omegas.  You’re just an assassin with a heart o’ gold, ain’t cha? Bet you are the type that only goes after real bad dudes too. You look at my record and think man, this is one bad hombre. I best take him out and make the world a better place.”

“I have not claimed to be a good person. I am an assassin. I kill people for money,” The ice clinked as he brought the drink to his lips and polished it off.  “Unlike others, I just have a set of morals I like to keep.”

“And me bein’ an Omega puts me right in that place where you won’t kill.”

“If you rather I can throw you from the balcony and collect on you. That is still very much an option here.”  He twisted his body and finally broke the eye contact he had held for so long as he reached to his side.

Jesse tensed. His hand went automatically to his hip. He cursed inwardly as he remembered he didn’t have his weapon. His mind raced as he concocted a plan on how to disarm this man when he brandished a knife, only to see the blue hard light of a tablet flashing into existence.   The assassin smirked. “I said I was going to pause in my job until you were ready. I am a man on my word. He clicked on the tablet a few times before he set it on the table.

A display of Jesse came flashing in glorious three dimensions.  “You have quite the record on you, Mr. McCree. Bank robberies and train jobs withstanding, you have been charged with no less than eighteen counts of first-degree murder, twenty-seven second-degree murder, aggravated assault on a police officer in five major U.S. metropolis areas. You have been tied to fourteen different gangs in various parts of the country, not to mention the fact you were dishonorably discharged from the military after they found documentation for terrorism. Countless charges of petty thefts, mostly on vehicles-”

“So you see me as a terrorist and a threat, so you came to put me down like a rabid dog.”

“Oh,”  The assassin smiled then, looking very much like his first parole officer did when he was told that he would be going to jail after his violation. That smug satisfaction of feeling morally superior.  “I was the instrument hired to take you out. I could not care less if you continued robbing banks and holding up trains. It is my employer that sees you are the threat.”

Jesse nodded slowly, “Cute. So what now?”

The assassin leaned forward.  “I must admit, this is not a situation I was prepared for.”

“Killing an Omega?”

He shook his head.  “I assume you were brought to this area for a job as well. Something just happened to show up that was too interesting and too convenient for you to pass along?”

Jesse’s mind trailed back to the black bag down in Birdy’s office, sitting there with fat stacks of cash inside.  By now the police would have raided that dingy little safehouse in the desert and all those assholes would have been put away.  They could squeal all they want about Joel Morricone being the one that set them up and orchestrated it all, but Joel Morricone was a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist. He wouldn’t be caught dead robbing banks. He gave a short nod.  “Got wind of a job not too long ago. Was told it would be easy in and out robbery. I figured I could grab enough to keep myself entertained for a season plus I got the chance to put some real scummy people away.”

The assassin nodded slowly.  “We were set up,” He stated. “You are worth around six million-”

“Sixty million, thank you,”  Jesse corrected.

The assassin smirked. “Sixty-two, the last I checked.” He sighed and set his drink down and leaned back in the chair, pursing his lips tight.  “Combines we are worth a hundred and twenty-two billion. With those numbers, men get greedy.”

“So what you thinkin’?”

“I was hired to take you out. They pay me significantly less than what you are worth, but it is enough to keep me from complaining. My job is to take you out, but you are obviously equally skilled as I am. So we are left with two choices: I kill you and bring proof of death. In return, I am set up to either be killed or arrested. Or we end up eliminating each other. Either way my employer walks away with enough money to never need to worry again and we eliminate each other.”

“Isn’t there a scenario where I kill you?”

“More assassins have been after me and none of them have lived long enough to brag about fighting Shimada Hanzo. Even if you managed to overpower me, you would not be walking away from that fight.”

A cold shiver crept down his spine and left ice in his veins at the sound of that name.  His grip around the throat of the bottle tightened as he slowly lowered it down to the floor.  He had called it earlier, this man was trained by the Shimada Clan. His fighting style was too closely linked to Genji’s own. It was a shot in the dark, but one that rang with truth. God, how true it was.  The heir to the Shimada empire sat across from him, looking as regal and defined as a man in his position should. Despite the tattered clothes and mussed hair, he could now see the defined aura the man possessed.

He hated him.

He felt his anger rekindled deep within him, that ice deepening and hardening until it burned inside his gut. Genji’s killer sat in front of him, as cool as a cucumber. It seemed the years between that fateful night in Hanamura where Genji was left as a mutilated pile of body parts barely clinging life and now were kind to the assassin. Jesse pursed his lips and took another deep drag of the bottle, swallowing the burn.  “So that was it? You get here and I show up in your room like a bitch in heat and you strangle me while knotting me deep?” He could not keep the crassness out of his tone. The vile anger that spilled from every pore.

Hanzo at least had the decency to look taken aback.  “I said before, I did not know you were an Omega. I had no want to kill someone unable to defend themselves.”

Like you did with Genji. He bit his tongue to keep from talking, instead taking another deep drink as Hanzo continued.  “I was told to come here and wait. You were to come here and, yes, the plan was to assassinate you and make it look like an accident. I was under the impression that you would come to me looking for payment not…that. You were supposed to be more punctual.”

Jesse huffed out a breath and rolled his eyes, “Punctual? You wanna talk about punctual? I spent my day in the back of a shitty black van with a bunch of douchebag Alphas,” he trailed off and sat up straighter. He nodded slowly. “Douchebag Alphas that would know who hired them and could give us a clue on where look for the guy that hired you to off me.”

“Before, you mentioned several gangs,” Hanzo leaned forward and swiped the screen clear of the information of Jesse. “Deadlock, Blackwatch, and Las Muertes. What reason could any of them have to want you dead?” He asked. “Past the obvious obnoxious nature you have.” that teasing tone was back.  Before, he found it slightly fun to flirt with death but now...now if felt dirty. It was a slight on Genji himself if he were to continue this flirty conversation with his murderer.

But still…

If he broke character now, the other would no something was amiss. Jesse set his resolve and focused on the three names presented to him.

Las Muertos was obviously out.  There was no denying that their influence was growing as Deadlock waned away, but they still were factions working under the same name running guns and drugs along the Central American region. Even still, there was no single unified leader. The name itself is where their power was. Any group of thugs could call themselves Las Muertos without any real repercussions. Sure Jesse had broken up a good many of their initiatives, but they lacked the funds to hire a man like Shimada Hanzo. Hell, he was pretty sure the Sombra Collective was working for them for free most of the time. How else could they get that many elite hackers?

That left Deadlock.

Deadlock hated him, that was for sure.  He had pissed in their cereal one too many times.  He spent the better part of two decades working to break apart the gang into squabbling factions all competing for power.  Where Las Muertos flourished under a unified name, Deadlock gridlocked. The gang leaders held a rod iron grip on the boys that worked under them, but they lacked the skills to teach anyone to lead them.  It crippled them completely. More and more defected away from the family. Without the strong Alphas, there was nothing substantial holding them up past tradition and fear.

But hiring a man like Shimada was outside their rulebook as well.  Deadlock was a family. Family took care of family. The idea of hiring outside the household meant acknowledging that they were unable to handle their own internal conflicts.It wasn’t like them to hire out.

Which left…

“Are you sure it is Deadlock?” Hanzo asked.

He nodded solemnly. There was only one other organization left that he was closely tied to: Overwatch. Blackwatch left him with enemies.  Reyes' hand-selected every last member of the special ops team, which lead to some less than reputable characters. Jesse was former Deadlock, sure, but he had been just a runt of a thing when he came in.  Gabe relished in the fact that there was an ex-Yakuza member. He thought his team was elite, strong and without fault.

Then things went to shit. Blackwatch was the first to be disbanded by the UN. It seemed that Gabriel Reyes becoming a turncoat meant that all his men were also under suspicion.  There were some that had been found working with Talon, a discreet Terrorist cell that seemed hellbent on recruiting as many military personnel as possible. Most had gotten away without any massive investigation though, regardless of if they were Talon or not.  Jesse hadn’t been so lucky. Being Gabriel Reyes’ special little project meant that he was given special permissions while in Blackwatch. He was given his own quarters, fed special meals and, most important, was able to sass back all three top-ranking members of Overwatch. After the fact, with all three commanders of Overwatch dead, there was no one left to protect Jesse from the implications.

Someone in Talon would obviously know Jesse had not been involved at all.  By that time he was too much of a goody-goody to bite the hand that kept him out of a maximum security prison.  They would want him out of the way just because he hadn’t ended up following in Gabriel Reyes’ deadly footsteps.

On the other hand, Blackwatch members that believed Reyes was innocent of all charges would look right at Jesse and proclaim him to be the one at fault.  People enjoyed a nice, neat package they could throw all their blame into.

“I guess you would say this is your rodeo, Cowboy.” Hanzo let out a long sigh and leaned forward.  “I do not like being used as a tool for destruction against innocent people. You seem…..decent.” He stated.  

“So that’s a no on killing me then?”

Hanzo smirked again, a mirth in his dark eyes.  “I never said no to killing you, I just would do it for my own personal amusement now. I think we still should stage your death though. I can send notice to my employer that I have carried out the deed and we will then have a location to seek out.”

Jesse nodded solemnly.  It wasn’t his plan to go out and track down Deadlock, but if they were sending his best friend’s murderous brother on his trail, that was a different story altogether.  “I think I know where those low-down scum of bank robbers would be held. I can get into the police station easy enough and interrogate them. See if we can get more information on who it is that hired them. And us.”

Hanzo nodded and stood up. “We can get moving then.”

“No can do, baby-doll,” Jesse reclined back further in the chair and groaned as he stretched his arms overhead.  Already his body was tight and ached. Especially on his left side. Hanzo has been intent of repeatedly pummeling that shoulder more than the other.

Hanzo sneered at the name as he moved into the main room and came back with a single black duffle bag and a large cello case, moving them to the door.  He knelt down and opened the cloth bag and began to pack away the water and food he had laid out. “Do not think I am leaving. I want to know who hired me to kill you just as vehemently-”

He loudly scoffed at the vocabulary of the other.  “Really? You want to know just as badly as me?”

“As I said,” Hanzo fell back to sit on his ankles and looked over to Jesse piercingly.  “I don’t like being someone’s puppet. Gather your things, I assume you have transportation.”

Jesse groaned and twisted himself lazily in the chair. “I need to get some rest first.”

“Then I will drive.”  It was an order.

Jesse snorted and leaned back further, slouching in the chair until his head connected with the backrest.  “No can do. I don’t have my keys or bag or gun. Left all that down in the front office. See, I was under the impression I would be getting fucked tonight and little did I know I would need my gun for that. Most people are a little intimidated seeing a piece aimed at them.”

Hanzo snapped his mouth shut and looked back to his bag.  The wheels were spinning in that pretty head of his, he could see that.  

“Makes you feel better, Birdy is always in her office at eight. We can get to the county jail by nine and with all luck, we will be on the road going where ever we need by noon. Right now I am figurin’ I am going to make my way into that nice looking bathroom with the lock on the door and spend as much time as I can restin’ before I am forced to do anything else.”

Hanzo opened his mouth again. He looked ready to ask another question before shutting it and turned back to his things. “Then I will take the bedroom. Tell me which car is yours and while you are talking to your acquaintance to get your supplies, I will get packed.”  

He stood with a groan and bent down, nabbing all the cushions of the chair before shuffling past Hanzo.  “Red flatbed truck. A little beat up around the edges, some rust but it runs well.” He shut the door and locked it before throwing both pillows into the tub. It was better than nothing, he supposed. The lock wouldn’t hold if Hanzo really did intend to kill him, but at least he would get a fighting chance if he decided to kick it in.  Picking the lock was another matter, but at that point, he would be asleep at least.

He dropped into the tub like a lead weight and rubbed his sore shoulder.  Damn that man and his precision aim. Genji would do that too, except he went for his thigh. Stupid Shimadas.

He swallowed and closed his eyes, opting to leave the lights on. Outside the door, he heard some shuffling. None of it came near to the door though.

Genji had done that too, he realized. When they first started living together.  Both men were in no shape to deal with others. Jesse has started it, stomping around the room like he owned the place, even at night when the other slept.  It would wake them up without fail, but it sounded right. No assassin would stomp around in jangly boots.

That was what Hanzo was doing now. He was making noise to put Jesse at ease, making sure he knew that he was not close. He would keep his distance.

It was thoughtful, even if the plan was stupid.

“Hey, Hanzo!” He called out. It was impolite to use his given name, he knew that.  The shuffling outside stopped, followed by a quiet ‘what’. “When you plan on staging this crime scene, where are we gonna do that?”

There was a pause, finally, he heard the man shuffle closer to the door.  “The desert probably. If I kill you there, it would look natural. The buzzards would then be after your body with wild dogs. I would not require any cleanup.  I could take your arm as proof of death.”

A pang of dread went through him. He clutched to his prosthetic.  “You mean the metal one, don’tcha?” he joked.

Another pause.  “I guess that one would work just as well. It seemed custom made. Sleep, Mr. McCree. I am heading to bed.”

He ran both hands down his face as he groaned loudly.  This was a mistake. A huge mistake.

Chapter Text

Hanzo felt on edge as he stood in the steel elevators alone and rode down to the first floor. His cello case and the duffle bag in his arms, as well as the address to a place where he and McCree would meet up after he retrieved his things.  Currently, the cowboy insisted on taking a shower first. He stated that Hanzo was well within his rights as well to also take a shower, but that would have slowed them down.

Hanzo left when the fool began to make a comment about the importance of preserving water in this area of the world when he assumed that maybe it was an attempt to flirt, not that Hanzo knew much about those things.  He groaned and pressed his forehead against the cool steel metal of the elevator door before quickly jumping back as he remembered what kind of hotel this really was. Who knew what kind of germs manifested in places like this. It made his skin crawl.

This was out of his element. Firstly, working with people.  He had a reputation as a lone wolf for a reason. He was very good at that too. Relying on others got him nothing but trouble, but he had to make an exception.  

He spent the night doing more investigation on McCree as a person, only to find little else than what was already on his file.  Junior high drop out that went to a gang. By some miracle, he had no record on file of any felony charges from before he was eighteen.  Those records were probably mysteriously deleted as were any information on who Jesse McCree was before the age of eighteen when he was formally on record as an Overwatch Agent.  

His record there was just as pristine; he received a medal of honor from the president due to his work for quick thinking during the uprising in London. Several more accommodations on his record for saving civilian lives as well. While impressive, it seemed incredibly….manufactured as well.  It rang of truth, but how could someone get an accommodation for saving civilians when another quick search showed that Numbani was under attack from Akande Ogundimu? It seemed highly suspicious that all his accolades came from times when Overwatch was expressly ordered to not be in that area.

The elevator dinged and Hanzo stepped out.  He shifted the strap of the cello case and stepped into the (thankfully) deserted lobby.

Obviously the man’s record had been tampered with, but usually, an organization would only remove the things that proved they were a liability to the cause. Why leave a record that made an operative look like a dull errand boy that happened to be in the right place at the right time?

McCree said the woman in charge would be in her office at eight.  He found the Omega in charge, Bernadette, to be very much like her decorations here.  In the dark haze of night, it looked mysterious and inviting. But now, with the fresh morning sun streaming in, Hanzo could see the imperfections on the wall. The paper was peeling and the colors dulled.  The feathers he found poking through the wall sconces drooped sadly, greyed from the dust that settled above them.

He pushed open the glass door and squinted into the light. Already he could feel the heat rising off the dark pavement. It sweltered him already, causing the joints in his knees to ache.

Get to the car quickly, stow his stuff in the back seats and then walk to town to get supplies they would need.  McCree had given the address of a diner. It was in town and within walking distance. He chose it though because they made the best grits. Hanzo was not sure what a grit was, but already he knew he would hate it. Another greasy American food covered in excess oils and sauces.

Red truck beat up and a little rusted. A shit bucket, McCree had lovingly called it.  Hanzo could not wait to ride in such a vehicle. He only hoped it still had use of an air conditioner. He cupped a hand over his eyes and looked out to the parking lot.

Seven. He counted seven rudy red truck with wear along the side.  Five more were a faded pinkish red. Two others were a deep maroon.  His frown deepened as he held the strap of his case. He could start peaking into the windows and look for the one with the cowboy motif within, but he was pretty sure exactly all of them would share that aesthetic.

He set his resolve and started out.  His things would not be so burdensome. He could manage it all himself. He always had.

____________________

Jesse whistled as he drummed his fingers impatiently on the counter, leaning forward to see what it was that Birdy kept on her normally neat desk.  He was half tempted to break into her office and just take his things back before the woman was up, but that would first be rude and secondly, she would definitely call the cops. Both were things he didn’t want to happen.  He liked his little oasis in the desert and he wasn’t about to give it all up because he was a little anxious.

Eventually, after an eternity, Birdy emerged in a simple white dress. A clean fresh look that made her look leaps and bounds more mature. Closer to Jesse’s age.  He flashed her a brilliant smile. “Hey-ya, Birdy. I’m looking to cash out.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets and tried to ignore the bruising along his knuckled.  Inside his bag would be an ancient med-pack. Once he was in his car he vowed he would use it, clean up some of the aches and pains of the previous night. Maybe even some of the fatigue.

The blank stare he received in return made him swallow some.  “Everything okay, Chicky?” He asked, leaning forward. “You are looking a mite bit white there. Did my boy give you any problems last night?”

“Your boy?” She stated finally.

He nodded and lazily plucked at one of the feather pens that sat in her cup, brushing it along his calloused fingers.  “You know, Omega kid I brought in, was three sheets to the wind and didn’t know what kind of Alpha he wanted.”

Birdy softened a little at that.  “He is cared for. He picked out Jaida and I have not seen him since.”

Jesse nodded along as she spoke, pretending he knew which one of the girls Jaida was.  “Good to hear.” He waited, expecting to hear her ask about his own evening. He had the story all planned by now, how it was good and long as slow, just as he liked it. How Birdy had to set him up more often when he was in town and oh, can I get my things? I gotta skedaddle.  

Instead, he got another sour look.

“So,” He cleared his throat and looked around, finding no one else near the front desk. It was eight in the morning. It shouldn’t have surprised him.  “What’s the damage?” He smirked.

Her movements were meticulous as she pulled up her hard light computer screen.  “You owe seven.”

He laughed, “Seriously Birdy. Come on. I came down here as a formality and to get my stuff.  I don’t owe seven hundred.”

Her face soured further as if she shoved a whole lemon in her mouth. Quickly she turned the screen. “Both you and your companion last night took two different rooms.  He is still here and has not checked out yet, but I am going to say he is in a full blown heat and there is no way he is leaving now. The charge for a full week of heat is at least five hundred. Seeing as he has never been here before and I do not know what kind of mess he will make, I need to tack on a room surcharge. And his companion-”

Jesse groaned and slowly nodded. “Get me my stuff and I will get you your seven hundred.”

“Plus,” Birdy continued, “You and your own companion stayed in our suites. Our heat suite, if you will. That is itself is quite expensive. It comes with a fully stocked bar and fridge. It is meant to allow a couple the comfort of going through a heat away from home and without any interruptions.”

Jesse felt the pit of his stomach drop further.  “Birdy,” he whined out.

“Which brings your total, Mr. McCree, to five thousand dollars.”

He blanched. “Are you out of your fucking skull!” He choked.

“I gave you the Reyes discount too,” She turned the screen back. “A knife in the back and a kick out the door, plus two thousand more.”

“Birdy,” He dropped to his elbows, feeling his heart pounding in his ears. “What the hell are you goin’ on about. Last night you were practically beggin’ me to stay and now...seven thousand.”

“I think you can afford it, what with you robbin’ a bank and taking several thousand dollars.” Birdy stepped back and lifted up his black bag and set it on the counter.  “What would happen if I open this up, Jess? What will I find? I am guessing all sorts of things that you shouldn’t have.”

Jesse groaned and covered his face.  “Birdy no. Come on Birdy, we were thick as thieves before-”

“Thieves?” She laughed. “I know how you are, Jesse McCree. Once a thief, always a thief.” She jabbed her finger hard into his chest and he inwardly groaned as she hit a tender spot.  “I was Deadlock too, remember? I was just like you back then, but unlike you, I have actually changed. I have bettered myself and I don’t run around takin’ things that don’t belong to me. I watch the news. I know what you have been up to. Robbing Amarillo banks and murderin’ people.”

Of course, Birdy would have figured it out.  The robbery had been plastered all over the news as they left Amarillo and headed west.  But his head swam as she accused him. Murder? He was a bad man, that was obvious, but he wasn’t a cold-blooded killer, not by a long shot. “Birdy, you know me. I ain’t killed ever killed anyone that wasn’t deserving. I left that bank with everybody in there alive. I made sure of that.” He pointed to her screen. “Anyone saying otherwise is a damn liar.”

“So you're telling me those boys deserved to die?” She asked coldly.  “They were right about you, Jesse McCree, I was warned and I wouldn’t listen. They said you were just like Reyes. His little doppelganger and I believed it too. But those were boys, Jesse. You killed four boys.”

His mind reeled, trying to think back to the crew he had left behind, trying to picture them all clearly in his head.  Alphas, the whole lot of them. Big, burly Alphas with nothing but testosterone pulsating through them. He shook his head slowly, “Birdy, I ain’t like that.  Those were full grown men I was with yesterday. The only boy was the one I brought here.”

“They were just like you, Jesse,” Birdy snarled, tears in her eyes that threatened to spill out down her cheeks but didn’t. Birdy was stronger than that.  “Idiot kids that were swept up in Deadlock’s promises.” Her lower lip trembled. “Two of em were mine, tiny runts of things and you just-”

He shook his head.  “No way! Birdy, I ain’t about that. I swear.  I put a tracker on their phone and everything so the cops could find ‘em. Take ‘em in peaceful like.” He felt his hands tremble as he grabbed his thighs. He had to find purchase somewhere. Something had to be stable. Something had to make sense.  “You know me, Birdy. I ain’t like that. I ain’t some cold-blooded killer.”

Birdy shook her head and stepped away from him “I thought I knew you. I was wrong about you, Jesse. I thought you were different, but then, I also thought I knew Reyes, and look what that got the both of us.” She flung the black duffle bag off her counter and winced as it banged against the floor.  Her teeth clenched tightly as she backed away. “I don’t want you ever back here ever, Jesse. D’ya hear me? Those were my boys. You had no right to take them away from me.”

He dropped down slowly, never breaking eye contact with the woman as he carefully pulled the bag into his arms.  “Birdy-”

“I should shoot you where you stand, McCree. Save me and the world a whole lotta heartache. But I figure I owe it to you.”

He bit his upper lip and took one step back.  She owed it to him to let him have a head start.  Chances were, the police had already been notified.  “I’ll make this right by you,” He said quietly, backing his way up to the door.

“You can’t,” She held her head high.  “You can’t give me them back.”

______________

Hanzo didn’t look up when he heard the cowboy slide into the withered vinyl seat across from him.  He heard the moment the cowboy entered, with he was sure all the swaggered and bravado a man with his aesthetic could manage.  His scent was different, he realized. He was usually able to pick out Omegas easily enough when he concentrated on it, but when this one entered, the room last night...it was like every hair on his body stood on end. He was unsure whether to fight or flee and the moment he made a pass at him, Hanzo almost submitted to that distracting voice inside his head.

Instead, he did as he always had done and sank back into bitter patterns. Even now, he could feel his approach in his blood and hear his books jingling with each heavy stomps as meandered his way to the back corner booth.  Hanzo wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of looking up as the cowboy slid into the vinyl seat.

“The waitress insisted this was tea,” He motioned to the glass in front of him with the pen stylus in his hand and watched as a bead of condensation rolled down the side.  “I must confess, it has far too much sugar than any normal person should consume.”

“Is your next comment gonna be how that’s why all us Americans are fat?” McCree’s words came out icy cold. He noticed that last night with their conversation, there had been a sudden shift the moment he confessed to who he was. It didn’t surprise him. Most people were aware enough of his dark past. He wouldn’t want to converse with a killer of his kind either if given the choice.

He was going to comment about the absurdity of them going after the man that put a contract on McCree’s head. Even last night his reasoning sounded weak and forced. But the moment he stepped into that room, the moment he caught the sweet aroma that surrounded this Omega, he knew he was done for.

It went beyond his code of conduct. He had, in fact, killed plenty of Omegas that deserved it. But there was something there, something deep inside the other’s eyes that made him think this was not like the others he had murdered in his past.  There was a kindness there…

Or maybe he was overly hormonal and reacting to the scent of a pretty Omega.

He looked up and watched as the cowboy stared out the window, his eyes far away from the scene in front of him.  He was unlike any other of his kind that Hanzo had ever seen. Jesse was imposing with his large frame. He was a skilled fighter, matching each of Hanzo’s moves beat for beat, almost like they had been in a dance.  It thrilled him to have someone actually knock him back a few beats. And he could feel it still, the ache in his bones from a man that actually could hold his own.

It was a silly infatuation, he resolved.  It would fade in time, but for now, this job was an excuse to stay near this Omega and just...observe.

A frown crossed over his features as he leaned his chin against his arm and then scowled deeper.  It reminded him of when his younger brother didn’t get his way. Hanzo nudged him under the table with his foot.  “I was going to state it reminds me a bit of chai ice cream. It has some of the bite and bitterness of tea, but it is far sweeter. I must say it is a rather interesting change. Better than any soda, anyway.”

The cowboy’s gaze snapped back as his eyes lost the glossy shine that had just been there.  His scowl lessened somewhat as he picked up the menu and looked it over before setting it down again. His fingers moved to his sleeves, rolling them up to his elbows and then down again when he realized the metal of his arm showed.  “I once had a friend, a sprite of a thing. Came from England. She looked horrified the first time I made iced tea and shoved it in the fridge. It was almost like I kicked her puppy or something.” he leaned back and looked up at the ceiling and let out a puff of air.  “Tiny thing….”

“You are not very good at concealing your emotions,” Hanzo stated and turned his tablet off and set in the seat next to him. He folded his hands neatly in front of himself and leaned forward. He was trying to be more sociable.

McCree took a deep inhale of breath and held it before knocking both hands on the table and leaped to his feet. “Finish what you have here. I’ll pay. We gotta go.”  Hanzo’s eyes shifted around the room as the noise resounded, suddenly afraid of the attention it would draw as McCree reached across Hanzo and picked up the cello case and duffle bag, slinging both over a shoulder.  “I’m out front. The red truck, just like I told you this morning” With that, he turned and left, not noticing or caring about the slack-jawed look the waitress gave him in his wake.

Hanzo looked down at the half-eaten toast and the sweet tea in front of him.  It was not enough for a well-balanced meal, but it was the only option on the menu that was not drenched in dripping fat.  He had hoped to share a meal with the other, if just to ask what grits were and if, in fact, it was like most of the rest of the menu and drenched in pig fat. Instead, he slowly moved out of the booth and dropped a five dollar bill onto the table. He took up his tablet and headed out to the parking lot. He hoped this time there would be fewer red trucks.

The day had heated up exponentially in the time he sat inside the diner. He felt the heat almost suck the air out of his lungs.  He resolved to pull his sunglasses out of his pocket and slipped them on, blocking out the already blinding rays. He did not understand how people could live in these conditions. Or why they would.

Quickly, he found the cowboy right out front. The entire back end of the truck was opened as he adjusting the larger things in the back.  Jesse gave the cello case a less than gentle shove before throwing one of the black duffle bags on top. Sweat rolled down his temple as he cursed loudly.

“I was assuming that we would have more time here than just you telling me to leave. If I had known that I wouldn’t have bothered with a table,” Hanzo stated calmly, he tried to not comment about the importance of not damaging his things but was pleased to see it balanced on some sort of mattress. It would be safe.

Jesse clung to the side of the truck with both hands, his eyes were wide and unfocused again, a look Hanzo knew well. “Birdy sold me out to the feds.” He said after a moment. Then the torrent of words came spilling out without any way to stop them.  “See, that job I did last yesterday, everyone is dead. Shot. At least that is what the news is saying. But they are saying they are four boys dead. Young things that know better but deserve a second chance. That kind of boys. All dead. But I wasn’t working with kids yesterday. Well, there was one kid but-”

Hanzo held up his hand, ready to cover the other’s mouth if need be.  “Slow down, I cannot understand you.”

Jesse sniffled slightly as his lower lips warbled. It was as if he were on the cusp of a breakdown. He was keeping it together, Hanzo could see that, but there was something deeper in this.  

Hanzo took a chance. He reached out and touched his shoulder with one hand.  “The people you robbed the bank with are dead?”

Jesse shook his head and leaned heavily against the side of his truck.  “I listened to the news the whole way here. They are saying the people from the robbery were killed, but that they were these young kids.  I ain’t worked with young kids. These were men. Men your and my age.”

Hanzo nodded.  “Go on.”

“Now there is this huge manhunt looking for yours truly and I think your boss is the one that set this up.” He looked over to Hanzo, his eyes large and searching.  “I didn’t kill anyone. I put a tracker into their bags and I sent the police after them. I saw the police on their way to the ranch yesterday even. I didn’t kill nobody.”

Hanzo nodded slowly and moved to stand in front of him. He placed both hands on his shoulders and squeezed.  It helped calm Genji when he got overwhelmed, a kindness that he wanted to pass on. “I believe you.”

Jesse looked down at his hands, his fingers drummed on the side of the truck  “Four dead. That’s what the news is saying. They are makin’ it sound like this was a gang thing but three of them were shot with a single action revolver executioner style. The fourth was sniped off a building.”

“And I take it your weapon of choice is a single action revolver?”  McCree nodded quickly. “Peacekeeper. Custom made too, real easy to identify. I don’t know why all four weren’t killed that way. Why have a sniper take one of them out?”

Hanzo sighed and stepped back. He motioned to his case.  “My guess, it was not a traditional sniper. If we look closer, I am going to guess your fourth victim was shot with an arrow.”

Jesse stared hard at the cello case before letting out a soft giggle.  “I figured you for a blade guy, Shimada.” He took a long, shuttering breath before he slammed the tailgate of the truck closed hard, leaving an impression where his left hand had been.

“I can assure you, I did not assassinate anyone yesterday,” Hanzo started, ignoring the obvious implication of his other comment.  He needed no further confirmation as it of this man knew about his previous….familial issues. Instead, his eyes trained on the indentation from the hand, suddenly aware of just how strong of a piece it was. “I would not have had the time.”

McCree leaned down, taking in another long, large breath as he nodded.  “I know that. Why not take me out with the rest of them when they had the chance? I was there. And obviously, I was the target. You are proof enough of that.”

Hanzo leaned against the hot metal of the neighboring truck as they both stood in silence.  Hanzo knew the answer. He figured it out the moment he heard of the sniper. He waited though and watched McCree regain his composure.  

His instinct was to reach out and comfort the frightened Omega in front of him.  The training he received his whole life dictated that this was the way it should be. And yet he knew that McCree just needed the moment to process. This had been his home and these had been his people and now...now he was forced to leave. He was seen as nothing more than the villain in his own story.  It was a familiar feeling, except the man in front of him was innocent of the things he was accused of.

Instead of doing anything, he looked away, down the aisle of cars as Jesse silently returned to adjusting everything in the back. Clear directions and a goal. “I bought food and drinks.”

“Where would we go?” McCree mumbled out, shutting the hood of the bed down and locking it into place.

Hanzo looked at his fingernails and shrugged.  “I have an idea of what is happening. Someone wants to punish….us.”  He stated. “It isn’t a coincidence that those four boys would be around the age you were when you left Deadlock, especially if they are connected to a gang in any way. The fact three of them were shot with a similar weapon to yours...someone wishes to hurt you deeply.

Jesse gave a short nod, “Then why involve you?”

Hanzo shrugged. “I haven’t a clue, but they killed someone with my method too. They set me up to find you and kill you but...I think I met you too soon.”

Jesse stood up straighter and frowned.

Hanzo continued.  “My letter. My orders were that accommodations would be provided for me for the week. Strange that I meet you the first day here.  Whoever set you up, I think they were planning on me...not knowing you and finding out about the executions. I have my own connection to young men who were brutally murdered and, with one of them being killed with my weapon...I wonder if it was a way to get me to want to hurt you more. Torture you even.”

Jesse looked up at the sky and slowly nodded.  “Makes sense,” he mumbled out like he was not convinced.  “So what do we do?”

“I contact my employer and see if he can give me any more information. We go to the ranch where you were yesterday. Look for clues. See where that takes us.”

“Your boss wants me dead.”

Hanzo nodded.

“Then we play up their hand and bluff them.” Jesse banged on the hood of his car. “Get in, we have a long drive ahead.”

Chapter Text

Jesse pulled a cigarillo out of the center console, placing it between his teeth. HIs finger itched to light it up and draw deep from the comfort of nicotine, but he needed the edge. His fingers drummed against the steering wheel to the rhythm to some old Garth Brooks tune he sang in his head as he looked to the archer sitting next to him. “Han, I know we’ve gone over this at least a half a dozen times already but I gotta talk through it again.”

The archer stared forward, into the abyss of the desert, a deep frown on his lips as he checked the mirrors for the third time since they left the main highway.  “If you insist,” He growled. His fingers twisted the seatbelt over his shoulder absentmindedly.

If you insist.  Jesse frowned deeper and shook his head.  “I’m just a man that needs a plan there Han. Just go over it. One more time.”

The archer scowled at the less than formal nickname as he switched on his tablet.  “I have divided the proposal into four separate parts and ranked them based on the need to get them accomplished as well as the timetable that is set out,” Hanzo explained. He set the tablet on the dash and brought up a hologram calendar.  “My employer expects results in a week.”

“So step one is to buy more time?” McCree nodded and glanced over, noticing the meticulous notes placed alongside each date.  Short, handwritten agenda notes about train times a detailed breakdown of finances. He smirked. Of course, Hanzo Shimada would be that anal retentive to create an itemized list of everything he ever bought.

“Buy more time and persuade my employer to give more information on how much he knows about each of us,”  Hanzo stated. “I will be required to get in contact with him later this evening and I am going to interrogate him then.”

He chomped down on the cigar in his mouth to keep from shouting out exactly how wrong it would be to verbally assault the only link they had. Angela would want him to breathe through the frustration. To keep a calm, cool head. “I think,” he started. “It may be a good idea to get information on the four boys that were killed as well.”

Hanzo produced a thick, covered notebook and neatly flipped to a blank page as he began to write notes in a neat script.  “That is an excellent notion. Do you think it would be beneficial for me to act frustrated that I cannot find you or concerned that you fled?”

“Angry. It suits you better,” Jesse smirked. “You are cute when you frown for one, and two, I’m your meal ticket and now I’m in the wind.”

There was a quick nod of his head, that short ponytail bobbed along as he scribbled something down quickly.  “I can easily play frustrated. It would be believable as well.”

Jesse turned the wheel, taking them down another dusty back road.  Gone were the flashy billboards advertising adventure in every direction away from the desert. Out here, it was nothing but small towns that consisted of a church and a cheap ass bar.

A few Omega brothels also existed out in these parts, far enough away from the city that local cops couldn’t care less about what happened but close enough that clients wouldn’t fear their cars breaking down in the wilderness, though even now they were becoming less and less frequent.  Out here was still the wild west. Maybe not as heroic or as brilliant as the old movies would lead you to believe, but just as lawless and ruthless as any Spaghetti Western he ever saw.

Hanzo turned in his seat as they zoomed past a rusted white building with a collapsed roof. It was a common enough sight, especially after all cars went solar powered. The gasoline industry all but collapsed, and out here, where most of a person’s livelihood depended on travelers stopping for a spell and refueling, it left many without a way to support themselves.  Suddenly, it was possible to travel across the state in record time without the need to recharge your vehicle. They were faster and more efficient. So more and more flocked to the comforts of the cities, leaving the wide open land for men like Jesse to appreciate.

“That sign just said ‘last’,” Hanzo turned and looked back, over his shoulder.  “Rather ominous.”

Jesse chuckled. “It probably said ‘last stop’ or ‘last gas’ years ago.  Asshole boys like me were what made it look like an omen from the devil.  Gives an air of mystery to this place, you know?”

A small smile played on the Alpha’s lips as he settled back in his seat, “So you wanted people to think your desert is haunted?”

“Oh,” Jesse chuckled and looked over, waggling his eyebrows.  “Everyone 'round these parts knows that ghosts of the past linger here. This land is sacred and just being here disrupts all the spirits.”

It was amazing how easily the other man laughed.  In all his imagination, he never pictured the assassin of his best friend to be so….charming. As he relaxed, Hanzo’s barriers slowly eroded away. Jesse had to presume that most of it was due to his secondary sex, Alphas and Omegas went together like ice cream and pie.

But this did not feel like a ploy to get closer to Jesse.  It felt like a genuine warmth of just wanting to be around another like-minded individual.  And Jesse couldn’t help but reciprocate. It had been a long time since another knew of his...Omegan nature. It had been an even longer time since an Alpha like Hanzo didn’t up and treat him like a simpering virgin--lack of assassination attempts withstanding.

Hanzo frowned down at his notebook as he continued to make neat little marks down the side of the page in a neat, cursive script that he could not recognize.  It had been years since Jesse was last asked to transcribe Japanese writing into English, but he knew he was so out of sorts that he could no longer make out more than a few distinguishing characters.  “Whatcha’ writin’ there, Han?”

“You will call me Shimada.”

“Hey Shimada-Senpai, Can I ask you a question, kudasai? What in the ever-living fuck are you writing there in that shitty-ass notebook?”  Jesse rolled his eyes as he looked over, batting his eyes at the man next to him.

A quiet snort of laughter that came from the other. “I am merely transcribing a script to follow when I must report in,” He stated and tapped his pen on the paper and tapped his pen, then,  “Hanzo is fine.”

“A man with a plan,” Jesse nodded and stole another quick glance at the page before looking back to the road. There was something disjointed in the neat script. The flowing grace of Japanese hiragana and kanji mixed with what appeared the rounded o’s he instantly knew as Korean and riverlike Hindi script. “So I ain’t ever gonna say I am fluent in Japanese, but I am good enough to order off a menu and that doesn’t look like anything I have ever seen before. And I’m pretty sure that on the second line I saw that symbol in a yoga studio once.”

Hanzo preened and ran his fingers over the indentation in the paper.  “I have developed my own writing system,” He explained. “In my boyhood, when I was still in school, my brother and I would pass secret notes to each other using this system. Only he and I knew it. We felt like it kept our secrets safe.”

His voice trailed away as he neared the end of his short memory, drifting into an almost mumbling that Jesse had to strain to hear. He snapping the book shut as the guarded walls rebuilt in an instant. His face grew stoic as his posture went ramrod straight. Suddenly, he was a model picture of nobility.  “That was a long time ago. It has a much more practical use now.”

The awkward silence lingered as Jesse waited for a sign the man next to him speak. Finally, he broke the silence himself  “My little sister and I learned Egyptian hieroglyphs together. It was really neat to have something special just for the two of us. She lives in Egypt. Part of some elite team working for Helix.” He felt himself beginning to ramble on about the Alpha sister he loved dearly while he tried in vain to focus on a comfortable topic for small talk.

Instead, his brain cut right to topics that would be considered taboo in any setting; the current global political climate post-Overwatch and how as a result the geopolitical map was littered with terrorist cells, religion, the side-effects mating has on both Alpha and Omega brains and how your body chemistry literally changes composition after mating has occurred, the myth that your should could be bound to one singular individual forever and how you were destined to meet them, and the granddaddy of them all, what was it like slicing your brother literally in half and seeing his guts hang all over the floor? Genji said it was a highly unpleasant turn of events, but I really want to know your outlook on fratricide a decade after the event?

Nope. Those were terrible topics of conversation.

“I have been bothered by something since we started driving,”  Hanzo held his notebook tight in his hand as he finally turned his gaze back to Jesse.  “About what you said concerning your female companion back at the brothel.”

Jesse felt his hackles rise and bit his inner cheek to keep from commenting.  He glanced over and the archer continued.

“You speak of her informally. You have told her about your past enough that she knows you are an outlaw and an Omega, and yet she sent you to my room.”

“You were posin’ as a man that wanted an unusual bed partner.”

“But I wasn’t,” Hanzo stated.  “When I arrived, a reservation was already in place. My employer knew you well enough to know that would be the location you hid out in.”

Jesse felt a familiar twisting in his gut as Hanzo spoke.  He gripped the wheel tighter until his fingers ached with the tension.  “Birdy told me that you had been there a while. You rejected all other Omegas and were lookin’ for something different.”

“I did reject all the...escorts she brought before me. I told her that I wanted to be left alone. She said it was customary for her to bring Omegas to her…clients.”

“You were waitin’ for me though.”

“A correspondence was delivered to my room. It that stated my mark was in the building and that he would be in my room presently with a business proposal. I was to attack at that time. You arrived around twenty minutes later. I was a bit shocked when I thought your business was as a whore.”

Twenty minutes.  Last night he had a doctor examine him and took a shower. From his arrival to when he went to Hanzo’s, it would have been around that time.  “Shit,” He swore and pounded his fist on the steering wheel. “Birdy didn’t seem right when I saw her this mornin’. I figured it was on account of her thinkin’ I killed her boys. She already had a plan in place to off me.”  

“Did you check to see if you still had your spoils?”

He frowned.  He hadn’t. He hadn’t thought about the money at all. He had Peacekeeper and everything past that didn’t matter but, “She took the money as compensation for her boy's dyin’.” He concluded, without needing to look in the bag.  

“That brings up the other thing that has been troubling me this morning,” Hanzo stated.  “She runs a brothel. Most of her…. wares are Omega in nature, with a few Alpha and Beta as well, correct?” He didn’t wait for a response and pushed forward. “It stands to reason then that the boys she lost yesterday would be Omega then, as they seem to be the ones she prefers and pampers more.”

“Every last one of ‘em in there was at one time a part of a den,” Jesse explained. “Runaways, addicts, abused, it didn’t matter to her what your past was as long as you were lookin’ for safety. Birdy taught ‘em how to be tough and independent.” Alphas did sometimes wander into her home, but they were far and inbetween, broken things pushed around by bigger and badder Alphas.

“It seems too….ironic that the four that wound up dead were also in her charge.  Especially after you said you did not recall the four you were with as young. You definitely didn’t pick out they were Omega.”

“They definitely weren’t Omega,” Jesse stated.  “There was another one there though, he was Omega. Cute little thing, too. He would have been like one of Birdy’s, but he was there tryin’ to impress some Alpha back home.”

“Tell me what you remember about that day,” Hanzo flipped to a clean page in his notebook.  “About the people you were with.”

“There were more than three, that’s for sure. Six maybe?” He sighed and thought.  At the bank, there were the four goons, plus the Omega kid and himself. And the man in black.  “Six, not includin’ me. I took away the kid so four bodies line up nice with the mooks. They were typical Alpha goons, big in their britches and itchin’ for a fight. Spoke some Spanish, but that’s typical for here. The Omega kid had never left his hometown before. And the ringleader.”

“Start with the goons. How do you know they were Alpha?

How did he know? He could he not know. They smelled of machismo and testosterone in that van. Each of them wanting to one-up the others on who was the toughest, letting their scents go wild.  No wonder the kid went into heat. That would be enough for any young Omega to lose their damn mind. He had learned to control it at this point and he didn’t fall into a sex mania every time he smelled Alpha now, even an Alpha in rut had very little sway on him. Slowly, he explained it to Hanzo, who in turn wrote down what seemed like every word McCree said.  “Big guys too. They were young and hungry types, but definitely not Birdy’s. They had no respect. I’m thinking they belonged to Deadlock.”

“Seems like a reasonable assumption,” Hanzo nodded. “It is the largest criminal organization in this part of the world, and they take in young Alphas quite often,” He finished writing and looked back. “Tell me about the instigator of all this?”

“Man in Black. Looked like Johnny Cash,” He smiled over and was met with a frown. “You know..Folsom Prison-”

“I understand the reference, yes,” Hanzo stated.  “Go on.”

“He was definitely the one in charge, didn’t like me there at all.” Jesse drummed his fingers on the wheel.  “He made damn sure I knew he was in charge too. I figured it was because he was pissed I was hired specifically to go on that job and the rest of them were Deadlock flunkies. Figured he was overlooked for bringing me in, but the job went smooth. They honestly didn’t even need me there. I spent my time back with the hostages while he was the one that took the cash.”

“And what happened after you left the bank?”

“Drove out of the city, I tried to keep my head low and stayed near the kid….he was sadistic though, shot off a gun near my ear and left me with a ringin’ I can still feel now...I think their plan was to shoot me in the back if I had stayed.”

“Imagine that, someone wanting to shoot you in the back. I totally could not understand that craving,” Hanzo smirked and looked over. “Why do you feel like they wanted to double-cross you?”

“Read their lips while I was deaf. They were talkin’ bout gettin’ me hammered and,” He held up his fingers and made the gun motion.  “Overall, he was unimpressive and mediocre. I figured he had been running a bunch of these bank jobs around the area and that he was getting sloppy so his bosses brought me in. Didn’t fit in with the rest of them, just wasn’t as...hungry.”

Hanzo gave a slight hum of recognition and went back to his notebook.  Jesse’s mind traveled back to the hot van and the sweet Omega kid next to him.  His brain told him those thugs were nothing but pent-up Alphas looking to score a hit.  They wanted to have an adrenaline rush and take something that didn’t belong to them. Surely, they couldn’t be Omegas. He would have recognized Omegas, right?

Right?

“We’re getting close to the safehouse,” He announced as he turned off the dirt road and a broken path of blacktop.  At one time, a town existed out here, a small place that maybe a hundred years ago would have been a dead-end small town with limited prospects, but a restaurant and gas station for travelers to stop through on their way west. But with the economic crash and people’s want to be in cities, small towns like this just dried up, right off the map.  They left the towns to crumble and decay naturally to become ghost towns.

Deadlock loved utilizing such towns. Buildings stood still, not structurally sound but they were good for hiding out.  Homes were always nice for building labs for drugs, and Walmarts...well, giant empty warehouses that had a place for large trucks to dock up and easily move weapons and other things without being caught by aerial drones.

They bounced along the uneven, cracked road through town at a snail’s pace.  The deterioration of the town left jagged craters in the way that jutted out of the ground. When he was twelve he stole a car and went joyriding in a place like this. He ended up tearing the entire engine to ribbons and was stranded. It was pure luck that he was found at all.

Hanzo turned to him as they exited the town and continued on. “I thought-”

“Not there, outside the town. Sometimes the cops send drones out through these dead town to see if anyone is there, you know, idiots who broke down or gangbangers. It ain’t smart to stay in city limits if you are plannin’ on stayin’ overnight. The light is a dead giveaway.”

“I have stayed in many a place like this,” Hanzo stated.  Away from the city is easier to lay low but harder to get supplies.”

Jesse nodded as he pulled up to the house. It stood looking just as desolate and broken as it had the previous day. The only difference was the lack of vehicles out back and the tell-tale sign of dozens of car tracks. He wondered how many police officers had been there yesterday with the coroner and various reporters.  

“It always amazes me with how fast a place where a crime was committed is forgotten,” Hanzo mumbled as he stepped out of the car as Jesse killed the engine.  “In my mind, I always pictured an armed officer to stay for days or weeks after something as terrible as murder has happened. In reality, it is several hours and then….nothing.”

Jesse hummed, slightly surprised with how aligned their thoughts were, though it should not have surprised him.  They were both hired guns (or bow in Hanzo’s case) and both had seen their fair share of crime scenes. “So step two of the plan; look around for any clues.”

Hanzo moved to the back of the truck. “Will we be staying here overnight?”

Jesse looked down the empty road and frowned. “I would suggest not.  This place is still an active crime scene for one. And two, whoever owns this safe house will be coming to torch it soon enough, get rid of any evidence of Deadlock or Los Muertos or...whatever.”

Hanzo nodded and turned back. “Seems reasonable.  Will we go back to the town then? It would be counterproductive to return to the city only to come back out this way tomorrow morning.” He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, a thin sheen of sweat developing on his brow that he did not try and wipe away.  Instead, he pulled out his reflective sunglasses and slipped them on and turned to look back to the house. “Shall we?”

Chapter Text

Slum apartments and destitute businesses were nothing new for Hanzo. He was accustomed to safe houses built to his own design; places that he would use for a season and leave before anyone was too comfortable with his presence. Cities were wonderful places to get lost where it was easier to disappear in plain sight. Cities held millions of individuals who wanted to disappear just as badly as he did.

By far, his favorite places were abandoned farms. Space and the privacy aside, it was a beautiful change from the grey concrete city he was raised in. He loved the serenity. Hearing nothing but the croaking of toads and chirps of crickets at the end of the day. Being able to sit outside on the porch with a bottle of Sake and just witness the beauty of the natural world in peace.The quiet, muted greens and browns that proved that no matter what, life finds a way. It was a quiet refuge when the world became too much. As a child, he could not fathom enjoying the quiet of nature, but age and grace showed him the power of seeking out the serene.

But they were temporary, like everything else in his life. They were places he could resurrect from the ash, only to watch them burn again in time. It was a poetic metaphor for his life, watching the empire built in front of him, only to tear it down with his own two, blood-soaked hands.

They decided to split the tasks; Hanzo to take the inside while McCree went to check the surrounding desert. Neither knew if or when someone would return, so it was imperative they worked quickly and efficiently.

McCree was insistent that there had been cars out back, and while it was possible the police had towed them, he still wanted to see if any evidence was left. Hanzo assumed they had been towed away. There would have been too much evidence left inside those cars about the victims.

Hanzo knew it was a rouse though. McCree appeared jovial in his attitude, but to be expelled from a home he loved. To have something stolen away...Hanzo could empathize with him. What McCree needed was space. He needed to process everything that happened the last twenty-four hours alone.

He shouldered his side bag and tentatively stepped up the front stairs, listening to each crack and creek of the wood under his feet. McCree had a very dissimilar taste when it came to a haven. While both were disposable. They were meant for only a moment in time. He could tell from this place that this was just as disposable than any place else, but there were no provisions in the cupboards or furniture that could be usable. Empty gapes in the walls showed where piping once existed, now the copper had been stripped away. Everything of value had been stripped from the place long ago, leaving the building an empty husk.

This house was too decrepit. A small, rectangular farmhouse with boarded up windows and falling away siding. It felt like a coffin. The roof appeared ready to collapse in onto the second story. Any sort of strong rain would wash everything away as if it never existed here.

It was greener than he expected, with tufts of wild grass, yellow and drying under the warm summer sun and tiny, sprigs of trees all over. He would never have thought of the desert to be so….alive.

He pushed into the unlocked door and stepped inside. A quick perimeter check proved that no other living soul was there. The insides were just claustrophobic. Tight hallways and closed off with doors. There were too many corners and too much darkness. It made him uneasy to hear the groans of the old house settling after every breeze. It sounded almost as if someone was in the house with him. It put his hackles up immediately, especially since the only source of light streamed in through the cracks in the boarded-up windows. He had been warned as a child to not interfere with haunted places, lest you wished the ghosts to follow you. He worried very much about what would follow him home from here. Like tetanus.

So far, the only disturbance was on the sunken in front porch, where dozens of footsteps marched from the front door out into the dusty road with a similar shoe make. Obviously, the police had cleared away any evidence around the front door, though the inside appeared to be mostly ignored, save the front dining room.

Hanzo finished investigating the contents of the dish hutch (there were nothing of value inside. Just old rat traps) when he heard the front door swing open wide and the now familiar stomp and jingling of spurs that accompanied McCree wherever he went. Now those spurs were swearing loudly. Hanzo straightened himself upright. He stepped out of the kitchen and met the other in the front hall. “I take it you did not find anything useful?”

“Found where they were executed,” He brushed his hands on his pants, sending a fine, yellowed dust along the already dirty floor. Hanzo frowned at the mess, even though he knew it should not bother him. “It’s right out back, looks to me like they were lined up and walked out then, boom, boom, boom.”

“That is three,” Hanzo frowned. “You said there were four.”

“Fourth one was sniped. With an arrow.” McCree agreed and looked around. “I need your help to find where the sniper perch was.”

“Are there any other buildings nearby? That would be my first thought.”

He shook his head. “No, just this house,”

“Then this would be the best location,” Hanzo frowned and looked at the dusty, warped stairs. “Did you see any indication of direction?”

“Cleaned away,” Jesse sighed and moved into the room to their left and dropped into the broken couch without hitting a single exposed spring. The piece of furniture groaned under his weight and sent up a plume of dark grey dust around him. He leaned back and took a deep breath. “There wasn’t any blood left even. I ain’t ever seen cops or crime scene cleaners be that thorough. Not with executions in the desert.”

“Then how did you know that was the place?” Hanzo asked.

“Experience,” He sighed. “It was far enough from the road to not be seen and a little dip downward so there would be less splatter.” He gave a short shrug. He looked defeated. It was as if this place would hold his answers and now, finally, the last of his faith evaporated with his dreams. McCree expected the police to be sloppy. Gang fights, robberies gone wrong, and hooligans fighting hooligans were all par for the course out here. It just meant they had one less criminal on the streets.

Hanzo felt a pang inside him, an age-old longing to move over and comfort the distressed Omega. He swallowed and looked away though, instead leaning heavily against the door frame. “I will look upstairs to the sniper's perch,” Hanzo offered quickly. He wanted to ease the discomfort in the Omega. Touching was too forward. Touching would be seen as aggressive. “Which side of the house was it?” Hanzo turned left the room without waiting for a reply and gingerly stepped up each stair, one at a time.

He heard the groan of the ancient couch and saw the man poke his head out. “Western side,” he pointed. “Away from the road. I’ll go out there so you can see. I’ll stand where they were.”

“Kneel.” He said. “It will make it easier to determine the angle.”

McCree let out a whine and pulled the hat off his head and slapped it against his knee. “Do I gotta kneel? I got bad knees.”

Hanzo chuckled and moved back down the stairs and pulling out a set of communicators from his side bag. He turned them both on and made sure they were connected to one another before handing McCree one small earpiece. “If you insist. But I will ask that you lean over if I need, can you do that?” he slipped his own into his ear and adjusted it until it felt comfortable. “Can you hear me?”

“Darlin, you are literally three feet in front of me, of course, I can hear you,” McCree let out a sigh, but quickly hid it with a laugh and a slap against Hanzo’s back. “Nifty little communicators though. Military grade?”

“I have friends in high places that can be bought for the right price,” He turned down so the other would not catch the slight smile on his lips as warmth rolled down his spine and settled deep in his core. He was not a man that liked touch, but he found the cowboy’s extraverted ways to be an improvement on his own solitary lifestyle. He turned back and watched the retreating backside.“I do not like to be touched, Mr. McCree. I have killed men for less,” He spoke into the communicator and smirked as he turned back to the janky stairs.

“Well you can shoot me with an arrow when you get into position and we’ll call it even,” He heard the deep timbre of the cowboy’s voice through his through his comm clearly. He smirked at the retort as he slowly moved his way up the warped stairs to the second floor.

“If I scream, McCree, it is solely because I fell through the floor. Take that scream as a request for medical assistance,” He stopped and tried to get his bearings on directions. He left his compass in his cello case, it was not a terrible loss. The western side of the house would be where the sun was coming from this time of day.

“Can do, partner,” McCree let out a loud groan. “You in position?”

Hanzo scoffed as he gingerly stepped onto each floor plank, testing its strength before placing his whole weight down. “Unlike you, I do not rush head first into a dangerous situation. I actually look at my surroundings and assess how to-”

“Yeah yeah, save me the sermon and tell me when you are at the window,” McCree grumbled and gave another loud, low groan as he cut him off. “My knees ain’t what they used to be.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Hanzo admitted. “I lost my knees when I was sixteen and presented.” At the end of the hall were two rooms on the western end with a bathroom between them. “I see three possible locations for the sniper. I am moving into room one.”

“At your ready.”

Hanzo nudged the bathroom door open wider, deciding it would be the easiest to search, being it was the smallest space. The window was broken out and a light coat of yellow dust settled on the previously white porcelain, now blackened and cracked. The stench of stale, freestanding water made him gag and step back, shutting the door. “Bathroom is clear.”

“So I’m looking up at the house from here. I think the room to my left has a broken window. I can’t see the glare from the sun there.”

Hanzo frowned and moved to his right and pushed to door open with his toe as it creaked loudly enough to send shivers down his spine. True to his word, Hazo saw the glass shattered on the floor. He stepped into the dark room and looked at his surroundings. It was a bare room with ancient, molding furniture, stripped down to its bare frames. At one time, it appeared to be a child’s room, with blue walls and a sports-themed wall border that had faded with time. The wind whistled through the slats in the wood that boarded up the windows and sent another breath of dirt and sand against the floor.

He knelt down as he stepped into the room and tilted his head. At first glance, he saw nothing out of place. Everything sat, perfectly undisturbed. The dust settled naturally and he could not detect a single footstep. It looked….manufactured. He slowly rose and made his way over to the window, cautious of any tripwire or traps. “The room has been covered up,” He stated. “There is dirt on the floor, but it is too even and too new. Some of the furniture does not look as disturbed by the elements.”

“So you found the perch?”

“Affirmative,” Hanzo moved over to the window. A wooden crate sat there, bleached white from the sun and knelt on it. He moved his hands to his belt and pulled out a tiny sniper scope. It was a gift from a client, telling him to get out of the arcane arts into modern tactical devices. It was an underhanded gesture, but he found the piece to be invaluable when finding a good point. He placed it up near his eye and looked down to the man kneeling below. “Turn a fraction to your left,” Hanzo ordered. McCree shimmied on his knees. He smirked as it lined up perfectly.

“So you found it? Anything of interest?” McCree put his hands on the back of his head and looked right up at him. His gaze pieced Hanzo through the scope and for a moment, Hanzo believed he could actually see him from this distance.

“They brought in items the did not think anyone would notice, like a crate to sit on. I can see some old cigarette butts as well, though it would be hard to determine if it was the sniper waiting or the previous tenant.” He looked around at the indented mattress without sheets. “I think your safehouse has doubled as a….house of ill repute.”

McCree let out a bark of laughter. “Hell, if the window was intact until now, chances are some cokehead did bring his significant other out here for a good time,” He groaned. “Damn that sun is killer out here. I’m gonna head back in.”

Hanzo lifted the scope again and chuckled as he watched the cowboy take the dirty Stetson off his head and wave it in his face, cursing about the flies as he rolled to his hands and knees and pushed himself up to standing.

Hanzo followed his movement upwards, the scope trained on his features as he stood and winced. The movement was enough, sending his scope up further into the sky and the world suddenly went white. He yelped loudly as he toppled back on the crate and crashed into the floor. His head throbbed with a blinding pain that radiated out through his left eye.

He vaguely heard McCree bark out several curse words through the comm as he rubbed his eye, blinking away the stars that still floated in his vision. Panic flooded his being as tried in vain to scramble to his feet, only to slip on the hardwood floor and crash back down.

Below he heard the front door crash in, followed by the thud of loud boots up the stairs and on the landing. His anxiety rose. He had nothing on him as far as protection. The wooden floor outside the door creaked and threatened to break under the other person’s weight. “Hanzo!”

“In here!” He laid back on the floor, relief spilling through him as he heard the cowboy’s voice. He pressed his hand tighter, feeling the pain lessening as stars danced in front of his vision. He groaned loudly. “It is nothing.”

The door opened and he heard the cowboy move to the window press himself flush against the wall, looking out. “Whaddaya mean ‘nothing’?” He frowned and looked over.

He must have been a sight, sprawled on the floor like an impudent child, hand clawing at an eye that was not even damaged on the floor of a dusty bedroom. He felt his face flush with embarrassment as he dropped his hand away. “I-” He started and pushed himself up on his elbows, but dropped back, defeated. “I looked through the scope and caught the sun. Nothing more.” He would not mention his fears of being assassinated. He would not regain the tales passed around in the inner circle of assassins of snipers being shot in the eye by other snipers. Elite sharpshooters, some better ranking than him, the best in the world, had been taken down with a shot that penetrated the scope and sent shards of glass into the eye and a bullet lodged in the brain.

“Shit Han,” McCree collapsed on top of the sun-bleached crate and it groaned under his weight as he dropped the hat off his head and to a knee. Sweat rolled off the cowboy’s tanned features to be absorbed by the white t-shirt. “I was thinkin’ you were shot in the damned eye up here by another sniper while I was down there lookin’ like a damned fool.” He extended his metal arm, “Com’ere.”

Hanzo sighed and willingly grabbed the warm hand and was pulled to a seated position. “I did not mean to make you worry so.”

Jesse let out a shaking laugh and shook his head. “Damned thing, the sun. Had no idea it would have that kind of effect, you know?” His shoulders drooped low and he took in a shaking breath.

Hanzo pressed the heel of his hand against his forehead and nodded. “I was not paying attention, that is all.”

“Not paying attention? I thought you snipers were all about wind resistance and sun position,” McCree whacked Hanzo’s arm with his hat, a deep frown on his face.

Hanzo frowned deeply. “We were running out of time here and the longer I would have waited, the worse the sun would be in my eyes, so I lined up the shot and I was still caught unaware.”

Jesse sighed and leaned back against the wall, “Scared the shit outta me,” He whispered out. “This whole place was a damned bust. Nothin’ here but blood in the sand and unhelpful snipers.”

“Again, I apologize,” Hanzo huffed. “We still have to finish looking at the main floor.” He moved to stand and tried to ignore the throbbing ache in his head. He leaned against the wall to keep himself upright while the world still spun with images of stars dancing in his vision. “We now at least know the sniper attacked before two in the afternoon.”

“How do you figure that?” McCree asked, his boots stomping along after Hanzo, not at all worried about the floor caving in around him.

“Any later than two and the shot would have been too difficult to make. The horizon is flat until you get further out to the mountains and by the time the sun reaches there, it would be dark. I am a fairly decent sniper, but even I would need assistance in the dark to do that.”

“It couldn’t be though,” McCree pushed past him and into the kitchen. On the dusty table, he began to write with his finger. “We robbed the bank at half-past eleven before the guards came for pickup of the extra cash. We were there for maybe fifteen or twenty minutes, which brings us to maybe noon. Then we spent about three or four hours drivin’ out this way so that brings us to three or four in the afternoon. I grabbed the money and the kid soon after that and hightailed it outta there.”

“And the sun would have been far too low in the sky to get a clean shot, let alone one as skilled as to get in someone’s eye,” Hanzo stated. “By the time I arrived at the hotel, there was already news about the bank robbery. By the time you arrived, your companion already was aware of the murders.”

Jesse groaned loudly and threw himself back into a rickety chair that creaked under his weight. “None of this makes any sense! It is all based on coincidences!”

“Agreed,” Hanzo pressed his weight against the counter and crossed his arms over his chest. “This was far too formulaic. The timelines do not add up correctly if your version of events is true.”

“What is your plan then?” McCree leaned back in the chair, spreading his legs wide as he crossed his arms over his chest. “You’re the Alpha. Tell me what to do.”

Chapter Text

Jesse felt a pang inside at his outburst earlier, knowing that Hanzo was doing nothing but state what anyone would have been thinking. Of course, the timetables did not add up. This was a planned hit, not a spur of the moment decision.

“I saw a generator out back,” Hanzo finally stated, breaking the tension with his cool words.  “I saw it when we first did a perimeter check. Get that started. I will need electricity to send a correspondence to my employer. I should check in with them and see what we can learn. He may even supply me with extra information on you as proof of your depravity. After that, I am unsure. I would rather not roam the desert looking for clues.”

Slowly, the cowboy nodded and moved to his feet. “I doubt the generator works anymore. My guess would be it was stripped of all parts long ago and is not just a husk, but I’ll give it a whirl.” he twirled his finger in the air and rolled his eyes as Hanzo pulled out his black backpack and pulled several white, smooth pieces of technology.  He cautiously set them on the table with his tablet. And hovered his hand over them, activating them with a wave.

Vishkar Hard Light tech. Not cheap by any means. He leaned forward and pressed both palms against the table as he watched small blue orbs levitate out and began to circle around the tablet.  “Nifty little trick there, archer.” He smirked.

Hanzo sat up straighter under the slight praise.  He preened, “This creates a wireless hotspot wherever I am as well as jumbles the signal so you are not able to detect where in the world my message was sent,” Hanzo stated as he picked one of the blue spheres out of the air and expanded it. He pinched down and spread his hands further apart and the orb grew in size before he dropping it back into its orbit. “It is very convenient when keeping a low profile.”  He added as he plucked the second one out of the air and twisted it, slowly it turned from the vibrate blue to red.

Jesse smirked at the obvious display of primping as he stood up and leaned forward.  “If I can’t get the generator workin’, is there enough juice in those to get out your message?”

“Barely,” Hanzo scowled.  “But I will work fast once I am online.” He looked up again at Jesse. “Thank you,”  It was a dismissal. Not rude, just haughty. It was the type of dismissal he had received from many of the higher-ups at Overwatch. The type of send off that a man in charge was used to giving his inferiors.  

Jesse pushed back and stepped outside into the scorching heat of the afternoon. He lifted his shirt and ran it over his face to mop away the sudden perspiration on his forehead and give him a slight shield from the quickly descending sun.  

He remembered summers being hot, but this was sweltering. It was beyond uncomfortable. It was as if the sun bounced off the side of the house and multiplied by ten on his skin. Maybe he spent too much time up north, evading the police in Canada. He had been indoctrinated to the colder climate, but this felt unusually warm, like the kind of heat felt from standing next to a running car. It seemed to just vibrate off the building itself.

Hanzo said his stuff could run on battery for the time being, and the generator box sat on the south end of the house. It left Jesse with a moment to indulge himself.  In his pocket, weighing heavily against his thigh was a half-empty box of cigarettes. His mouth watered at the thought of them and brought one to his lips before lighting it up and taking a long drag. He let the smoke burn in his lungs before slowly exhaling.  

The Alpha did not smell of cigarettes or smoke. He smelled clean and heady. Overwhelmingly heady.  While he smelled cheap and stale. His usual brand was not much better in terms of smell, but they did well to mask his scent further. Unfortunately, he had none of them on his person. Cigars; good cigars were expensive to come by and he had all but chewed through his stash in the truck to the point where he would need to reroll them once given the change.  And he only needed a quick shot of nicotine to steady his nerves. He felt the instinctual need to hide, even from this man that knew exactly what he was.

He followed along the side of the house, attempting to stay out of the blinding sun. There was no need to rush to a place he knew wouldn’t exist only to tell the assassin inside that he would, indeed, need to charge his devices in the truck.

Instead, what he got a slight reprieve. A chance to gather his thoughts up and process what was happening. A chance to just sit and think.  It chilled him to the very marrow of his soul, knowing he drove out the middle of the desert, where it was isolated and let a real-life assassin--his best friend’s murderer--come with him. And now, said assassin was sitting inside and concocting a letter to the man that hired him to kill Jesse in cold blood to explain why he hadn’t killed him yet.

All because Hanzo Shimada didn’t like being a tool. (As if all assassins weren’t tools.) But maybe the other was inside now, writing about how he had McCree cornered with no means of escape, and now he was planning on murdering the shit out of him.

In many ways, he saw Shimada as a cat, a creature that enjoyed the thrill of the hunt as much as the kill.  It wouldn’t surprise him in the least to know that’s what was happening right now. That all this was an elaborate ploy to get Jesse to be compliant with his own demise.

The dark, olive green transformer box should have sat next to the broken down box of the ancient air conditioning box. He was slightly surprised to see both boxes still standing with little to no tampering. It was slightly rusted against the joints and sitting slightly off-kilter, but other than that, it looked pristine. Jesse took another puff of his cigarette and knocked his boot against the generator box, listening to the hollow bong that followed.   

Figures.

That was not the sound of hope.  It figured there would be a polite thief to strip the house of its generator system for parts, then replace the box.  He knew it would have been futile from the beginning. Solar generators were all the rage to add to your home several decades previous, store energy to use whenever you needed with just a few cheap panels placed on your roof.  They were said to be the cheap alternative. But they were built with expensive, lasting parts that could easily be melted down and sold for scrap.

In theory, it was the ideal energy solution. In practice, the weather found it’s own ways to clog up the system.  Snow covered roofs couldn’t catch the light, Wind knocked them down and damaged the innards. Worst of all was sand.  It managed to bore it’s way in between the joints and corroded away the delicate copper wiring. It was impossible to stop once it started and usually too late to fix when it made a mess of everything.  If the elements hadn’t damaged the generator beyond repair, scavengers would have stripped it for all the copper wiring within.

He ran his hand along the side of the house, surprised there were no wire tracks leading to the roof.  Copper had always been valued, so not seeing the thick black tubes of wiring was no surprise. The fact there were no divots and brackets to hold the wires against the siding was.

Jesse knelt down though, despite knowing it was irrefutable and snapped back each of the latches.  At least the last thief had the good conscious to put the cover back on and latch it up. At the very minimum, it made Jesse’s job more interesting. He could at least tell Shimada at this rate that he tried to find the generator box. He did touch it and feel it and he proved that it no longer existed.

He knocked the metal cover aside and looked down at where the spindle of the generator should have been.  What he should have found was a tiny, little box with a coil of copper wires with a small hand crank. The small ones had always been the most popular.  They were more cost-efficient, easy to store and could be used as backup batteries when the power went out. But there was no coil or crank. There were no holes in the sheet metal either.  Instead, he found a smooth metal plate, bolted to the ground. No coil. No crank. No generator.

He frowned and ran his hand over the undented metal.  Moisture must have gotten in at some point, with the minimal rusting but there should have been more here. An indication that yes, at one point a generator was attached to this house, and not just a phony metal box.   It would explain why there weren’t copper wires running up to the panels on the roof though...but why?

He pushed himself back to standing and encircled the house a second time, looking for a secondary generator box and found nothing but the lopsided frame of the house.  Not everyone had a generator attached, he argued to himself. And it wouldn’t be too surprising if some seller created a place for a future generator to go, but it felt so bizarre to just have nothing. He pushed the communicator in his ear back on.  “Hey, Hanzo-” He was quickly cut off.

“I have current,” Hanzo stated. “My devices will all be fully charged within the hour. I have almost constructed my letter and will send it off soon. My computers will need to run for another twenty minutes or so, then we can leave. Thank you.”

He leaned against the side of the house and took one final, long drag from his cigarette before he crushed it under his boot. “That’s well and good, babydoll, but I ain’t done none of that.”

“The police left the generator running? Foolish.”

“Naw, what I mean is there ain’t no generator out here.  I have no idea where you are getting that power from,” He pushed off the wall and stepped back into the house, feeling a wave of heat hit him as he crossed the threshold, and sudden coolness he had not recognized the first time he entered.  

Hanzo didn’t reply.

Jesse sighed and moved over to the side light switch and began to flick them up and down. Nothing.  “You shouldn’t be able to charge anything here, Hanzo.” He moved back into the kitchen and caught the other’s gaze.  

“It’s wireless charging,” Hanzo’s hands were folded in front of him and he gazed into the spinning spheres of light.  The archer’s gaze followed a small, white dot as it bounced between the larger balls, slowing in speed as it reached the apex of it’s arch only to speed up in the decent and rebound.

“Wireless energy?”  Jesse shook his head and looked down.  “That shit is expensive to maintain,” He sighed and pressed his palms against the table and listened to the groan of protest the furniture gave.  “No one in their right mind would install it in a house like this and then leave it running. Companies use it. The military. The cost alone to install it is way more-”

“It is undetectable unless you have something that is meant to charge wirelessly,” Hanzo frowned.  “Otherwise our phones and communicators would be charging now. These,” He motioned to the Viskar tech, “These have been modified to always seek out and hack into wireless energy sources.  The security is low, since you cannot phish for information from it, and smaller devices would never take enough to raise an alarm.”

“Which begs the question-”

“What is here that would require an energy source without a traditional generator? And how would they get and receive power.”

Jesse frowned, “Some old safehouses I used to bunk at in Overwatch were like this,” He stated. “Panels on the roof and there was no generator because the house itself was the generator. It went to shit when someone outfitted one in Norway. The amount of heat it concocted melted away all the snow in a five-foot radius. The safehouse stuck out like a sore thumb.”

“Would anyone question heat on a house in the desert?”

“At night, sure,” Jesse nodded. “It drops real cold at night but there ain’t any neighbors to complain to and the coyotes probably would appreciate something warm to snuggle up to at night. You stay here, watch over your equipment and listen for signs that anyone is comin’ here. I am gonna check around the house again. See if I can find what they are lookin’ to hide out here.”

“If I had to wager a guess,” Hanzo looked up.  “Small munitions storage for sale.”

He nodded in agreement.  Places like this were invaluable when he low on cash but stockpiled with supplies. He, himself, had maybe a half a dozen permanent locations scattered around the whole of the United States, with maybe another dozen more that were temporary holding grounds.  Buyers were looking for a neutral space to do business, and he wanted a space that had the appearance of disuse.

Jesse stepped out of the kitchen and into the main hall, circling around the first floor again, getting a closer assessment of the layout and looking for something amiss. The rooms circled around on each other, leading him straight back into the kitchen.

Deadlock kept their supply close at all times, more willing to sacrifice the lives of countless, nameless boys rather than lose count of a single bullet.  They prided themselves on their ability to stay scrappy and hungry when it came to power and cash. They thrilled with every warehouse they stripped to the bones and rebuilt to service their needs with the labor of idiots who didn’t know the first thing about engineering.  Deadlock were scavengers. They were coyotes. Never would they leave a safehouse outfitted to hide a hidden supply.

Blackwatch kept things tight and modern.

Blackwatch utilized bunkers that had the appearance of disuse but nothing more.  Reyes always made sure that every shelter they had to hole up in would protect the team first and the mission second.  Munitions and body armor always was in reach, always up to date and always clean. People said he was paranoid, always squirreling away supplies at every dugout when they weren’t needed, stating that mild discomfort went a long way when you were fighting for survival.   Guns were most needed, especially when the Strike Commander wouldn’t approve of Reyes’ missions and Jesse would be sent out with a small team with nothing more than a tiny cache of supplies ‘for camping’.

Hanzo kept his head down in a mock focus of his work, though Jesse caught his dark eyes flickered up every few minutes, as he paced.  “Does that need your undivided attention?” Jesse finally asked as he paused in his patrol and turned.

“As long as I am near enough to monitor, it should be able to run on its own,” Hanzo nodded and stood.  “What do you require?”

“Need another set of eyes looking around for a weapons cache. You’re an assassin, you gotta have your own tricks to the trade, perhaps you can find something that I’ll overlook.”

Hanzo pushed his chair back from the table and slowly rose as his tablet chirped, the screen lighting up.  Hanzo turned back to the table and looked down. “My message is being sent now. I have told my employer that you have eluded me and have kept a low profile since the murders were made public. I have asked him for more information on your background to help track down a possible hiding location. I have also included information that the woman, Bernadette, sent correspondence to my room that you would be there, but you never appeared.”

“How long will it take to send it?”

“About fifteen minutes more,” Hanzo stated.

Just enough time. He turned and headed back into the hall. “I looked for hidden doors and missing rooms. There is nothing. No cellar doors, no basement. Nothing.” He sighed.  

“What if,” Hanzo trailed off and looked back to the truck.  “I have seen that wireless charging stations that are just hubs. What if whoever utilizes this station does so as a charging hub, for his supplies and cars. We could follow the wireless signal and see where it leads us.”  

Jesse groaned and ran a hand over his face. It would be nearly impossible to track a signal through the desert, but what choice did they have? He reluctantly nodded, his shoulders drooped heavy in defeat. “Sure, what other choice do we have?

The sphere’s pinged again, turning a shade of green and powered down. The message was sent.  

Hanzo nodded. “I will probably not get a reply for several hours. Pack up your things,” He maneuvered over to his own supplied and began to delicately place everything back into his bag. “There is something I have learned, living low in the city.  I have spent time in Utopaea. The whole city runs on Vishkar technology, but even there wireless currents are rare, only the most elite are able to afford them. Vishkar’s campus is the only place legally allowed to have it, or so they say,” He smirked and looked over at Jesse.

He felt his neck flush at that devious look. He gulped down a breath of air and tried to look casual as he leaned against the wall, “Lemme guess, the wealthy find a way.”

“The wealthy always find a way to put their own comfort in front of others,” Hanzo left his tablet on the table. “In Utopaea, it was easy to find a penthouse that had wireless current. All I needed to do was get near enough to charge my own devices, but I still had to find them in a city of over    30 million.”

“Are you telling me you have a tracker?”

“It was defunct Vishkar technology, so naturally it would. They stopped production on it when they realized how detrimental it was to have a device on the market that could be used to prove that military technology was being utilized by civilians.” He handed the device to McCree. “I have never used it in a desert, but it should end up looking like a radar.”

Jesse grabbed Hanzo’s bag and shouldered it.  “Then let’s get a move on. Tell me which way to drive and I’ll take us there.”

Chapter Text

The white blip on the radar flashed once...twice...then disappeared from the screen again. Hanzo let out a growl and shook the handheld computer as if violence would correct the course.   

It has been that way for the past several hours in the car.  McCree drove down the road while Hanzo navigated and while Hanzo excelled at giving orders and Jesse has the ability to follow said orders, the signal for the wireless power source seemed to have a mind of its own.

Jesse assumed the underground wires that transmitted the ability to self-charge electronics with no wires would have followed along a linear path, most likely running down the main road that led into town.

“Five bucks and a bottle of whiskey says the mother hub is the church,” He said with a wink. “It’s  the largest building in town, can hold the most people and, historically, was the literal center of town.”

Hanzo gave his signature, haughty smirk and retaliated.  “Ten dollars, dinner and that bottle of brandy you have hidden in the back says that it will be in the courthouse. It is equally as large but is able to be locked down, it equally holds just as many people as the church, and while historically it was the center of town, this is not the fifth century Europe and the courthouse now stands in the center of most American Cities.”

Jesse had been impressed with his knowledge of American civil engineering, but the both of them were proven wrong as the signal never veered back into the town and instead continued along the border, leading them south and into the desert proper.

Still though, following the road would be the most straightforward solution. Hanzo agreed with that sediment.  These lines were not meant to cross over hundreds of miles of deserts. They were meant to be quick jaunts from property to property.  After driving fifteen minutes south, and at Hanzo’s insistence that the signal was, indeed, getting stronger, though it was a minuscule growth, McCree began to frown.

His dread intensified as Hanzo spoke up for the first time about losing the signal.  He turned the car and slowly drove back the way they came until they picked up the signal again.

He swore loudly as Hanzo directed him into the desert proper, taking him off the comfort of pavement and into the wilds beyond.

McCree stated loudly that he never excelled in his math classes, even the ones Overwatch forced him to take to get his GED, but it was simple geometry to know that the quickest way from point A to point B was a damn straight line.  The bastard engineer who laid the lines for this signal though apparently had a boner for right angles and nonsense turns.

Hanzo smiled at the frankness of McCree’s outburst and countered by calling the design genius.  It was obviously harder to track a signal that would just stop dead, or almost turn around or would zig-zag along for miles.  It would deter even the most tenacious individuals and leave any trackers very obvious.

“Stop. We lost the signal again,” Hanzo’s voice sounded weary.

McCree cursed under his breath and slowed the truck. He turned it and headed back the way they came. “Damn it,” He sighed loudly. There was far less ire in his voice than even an hour previous. Now, he just sounded equally as weary and defeated.  “Again?”

Hanzo did not reply. He slouched further into the seat and turned his gaze out of the side window. He would correct him on where to go once again as soon as they reclaimed the signal. For now, the silence was a welcome reprieve from McCree’s angered beratement of the developers of wireless energy.

The sun had dipped below the horizon and cast a violet haze over the horizon. The sky itself was a brilliant pink that slowly faded to the deepest of navy blue without a cloud in the sky. Already he could see the twinkle of the first night stars as they slowly faded into the night.  Hanzo’s device blipped again and he pointed them south.

McCree sighed again. He turned the car south and brought it to a full stop. He threw it into park and pressed both palms of his hands against his eyes. “I can’t do no more.”

“We are in the middle of nowhere, McCree,” Hanzo sat up and looked out the side window, into the quickly darkening desert.  “We cannot just give up here in the desert.”

“We are,” He groaned.  “Been drivin’ all day and I need a break. I need to stretch and eat and piss and sleep.” Without anything else, he kicked his foot against the heavy door and literally dropped out of the truck before walking to the west and not looking back to see if Hanzo followed.   

Hanzo’s stomach grumbled in agreement. His body was not used to so much cramped travel and everything ached. His prosthetic knees popped as he stepped out into the chilled night air. “Do we have food?”

“In the back of the truck,” McCree strolled back towards the truck, thumbs tucked into the loops of his belt and a smirk on his rugged features. “Gimme a moment and I’ll get a fire going and we can roast some weenies and boil some beans.”

Hanzo felt his stomach drop.

McCree gave a whooping laugh and slung an arm over his shoulder and turned him, leading him to the back of the truck. “Holy shit, Shimada, I ain’t gonna feed you poison!” He jostled Hanzo lightly.  “I do have hot dogs, but no beans. Nothing gross that’ll make you fart all night, I swear.”

Hanzo felt his face flush in the dark. The weight of the arm on his shoulder grounded him right to the spot and he did not even comment on the flatulence comment. Instead, he felt the heat radiating off the other man’s body. The scent of sandalwood and pine clung to the other, mixed with the sweet scent of tobacco and cloves. Under it all though, he could smell the sweet scent that could only belong to the cowboy near him.  He swallowed as he listened to the man speak, but he could not process a single word of it.

Instead, he inwardly whined as the arm dropped away as McCree opened the back of the truck and began pushing things into Hanzo’s arms. The voice stopped and Hanzo suddenly realized the man was looking for a reply.  

“Shimada!” McCree snapped, the smirk widening on his face. “Don’t fall in love with me now.”

Hanzo flushed brighter red, glad at the darkness concealing his face.  “It has been a long day, Cowboy,” He growled, his voice far less intimidating that he had hoped. “And I am out of your league.”

The stunned look he got in response to his mild flirting was more than worth it. “Go put that shit into the cab,” McCree grabbed both his shoulders and physically turned Hanzo followed by a friendly push forward. “I’ll make up the bed back here. Don’t even thinking about arguing, cause none of us is sleeping in the dirt. There are rattlesnakes out there and they can kill you, not to mention spiders and scorpions.”

Hanzo stumbled slightly as he regained his footing and headed to the cab, depositing the items in the passenger seat. He should have retorted that he killed men for less, but he found his tongue hanging dead inside his mouth as he looked back at the cowboy whistling some country song Hanzo vaguely recognized. He headed to the back again and grabbed more supplies (most he realized were trash). He worked meticulously, to make sure that everything had a reasonable position inside the cab.

“What is that terribly song?” Hanzo sighed as the tune wafted into his brain and refused to leave.  

“I can stop,” McCree answered as he unfolded the mattress. He set several lanterns on the hood of the truck and illuminated the area around them, if only slightly as he set out to make a small campfire.  

“It was not that, I,” He swallowed. “The tune is pleasant, I wanted to know what it was.”  

A flush spread down his cheeks and he cleared his throat. “Just an old country song.” He cleared his throat as well. “It’s, uh, called, um,” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, “ ‘Did I shave my legs for this?’.”

Hanzo smirked, “I hope you did not shave your legs on my account, cowboy. It would ruin your whole aesthetic.”

In very short time, Hanzo found himself contently seated on the back tailgate of McCree’s truck pressed hip to hip with the cowboy while their legs dangled down.  There was not much space, to begin with, but it felt comfortable. He contently ate the fire burnt and slightly dust filled hot dog off a stick as if it were one of the most delicious meals he ever had. It was amazing what cooked protein did to a man’s brain. “This,” He waggled the half-eaten cylinder of meat and watched it bob, “Is absolutely vile. Completely the worst.”  He smirked as he took another bite and had to keep his moan of gratification down.

McCree let out another loud bark of laughter and nudged him hard again with his shoulder, which Hanzo accepted without a single gruff look of comment.  “I have, like four more. You want me to go make you another?”

“Please,” he watched the Omega next to him hop down and trot over to the fire. He casually speared another hotdog and prop it over the short flames. The whole time there was a smile on his face.  Hanzo found that liked making the other laugh. He enjoyed the low rumblings that started deep in the other’s throat until it became too overwhelming and spilled out into absolute glee that echoed off the empty desert. It was easy to accomplish too. A witty retort or a candid confession stated with an absolutely straight face was enough to get the cowboy started which would cause Hanzo to lose his own composure.  It left the Omega clutching at his sides and rolling with laughter.

The half a dozen or so beers shared between was in no way responsible for his sudden lack of poise.  The flask of whiskey and gourd of sake had seen to that. Hanzo felt the flush high on his cheeks as he smiled wide, not at all hiding the ogling he did of McCree’s tail end.

Sober Hanzo would have offered to sleep in the cab of the car, he reminded himself as he licked his suddenly dry lips.  Sober Hanzo would remember that he was working a job and that no amount of alcohol should distract him from his goal.

Which was what?  He had been paid to kill this Omega, not seduce him.  He had good money on the line. So why was he playing up this fancy of trying to find his employer? Why did he want so desperately to stay with this sweet-smelling Omega with the joyous laughter and quick banter? Why did he want so badly to help him find answers?

‘ You think he’s pretty, ’ the remaining sliver of self-control stated plainly.  ‘ You like his unconventional appearance. You like that he is rough and tumble and can pin you to the ground. ’

He flushed and took another long drink of the bottle in his hand to hide the sudden flare of heat inside him.  He liked his scent most of all, like the warm sun mixed with the wilds. He was sweet and lush. Natural.

The truck dipped as McCree hopped back up to his seated position and handed him another hot dog on a stick.  “Sorry, got lost in thought over there and kinda burnt it.”

Hanzo frowned at the blackened beast in front of his eyes, twisting it to see if maybe there was a salvageable side.  “Why it is charcoal?”

“Dropped it right into the flames and let it sit there awhile,” Jesse laughed again.  “I think that is a sign I am way too drunk.”

“I won’t eat this, it isn’t food anymore. It is fire kindling and absolutely worthless to me now, Jesse.”

McCree smirked like a coyote and leaned over him, snagging the hotdog back, “You must be getting sweet on me, you called me by my name and not ‘Cowboy’ or ‘McCree’.” He said each word with mock sternness, teasing Hanzo more by giving him that brilliant smile as he bit into the hotdog.

The grimaced that immediately spread over his face as he made to chew it several more times before swallowing was marvelous. He snatched up his beer and drank deeply.

Hanzo snorted, breaking into a hiccuping, wheezing laugh. He covered his mouth and leaned away as Jesse chucked the rest of the burnt meat deep into the night before he let out another nasally snorting sound. His hands shot up over his mouth to cover his unregal noises.  Genji once compared his laugh to that of an imposter, a man who had heard of human emotion but had never experienced it first hand. Suddenly, in this intoxicated state, he found himself nearly crying from the effort as the man next to him continued to flail himself around and act the buffoon. It was almost as if he wanted him to continue to laugh.

Slowly, his outburst subsided and he took in a deep shuddering breath as long shadows blanketed them in darkness and left only the dim artificial lanterns and the brilliantly white full moon as their only source of light.  He looked out to find Jesse, kicking dirt and sand onto the dying remains of the fire, an empty bucket in his hand.

Realization hit him like a tidal wave and he flushed more. His back tense as his brain went into overdrive, trying to overcompensate for the booze-addled stupor he put himself in. Next, it would be time to sleep. He would have to lay next to this man and attempt to rest. It was only twenty-four hours previous when he had locked himself in the bathroom to avoid Hanzo and now...Now they would lay there, shoulder to shoulder and Hanzo could not think about the warmth that spread into his gut and made his insides flutter.  He could not think to roll over in the night after he knew the Omega would be asleep and bury his nose in that intoxicating, natural scent. He could not think about the implications of what would happen if this Omega blanketed himself over Hanzo and pinned him under his sound structure.

He looked away as Jesse sauntered back and dropped the empty pail next to the tire as he hopped back up on the tailgate.  

They sat in silence. Jesse’s face turned downwards staring at his hands as his intertwined his fingers, only to twist them apart again.  Hanzo clasped his own tight in his lap, keeping them still as he watched Jesse move nervously beside him. Suddenly there was tension as if the implication of the sleeping arrangements just dawned on his companion as well and now he was trying to find a polite way to tell Hanzo off.  

Jesse cleared his throat, “So.”

Hanzo chewed the inside of his mouth and did not reply.  He did not want to offer sleeping inside the enclosed cabin of the truck. He did not want to break his delusion of what was to come next. He gripped his hands tighter.

McCree cleared his throat again and braced his hands behind him and leaned back in a show to look casual, but there was still a stiffness to the action as if he were posing. The silver glow of the moon elongated his features and made him impossible to read as he tipped his hat back.  “Hanzo.” He said the name like he was testing it.

Slowly, he looked over as Jesse once again sat up straight. He fidgeted with his hat, letting his long fingers roll over the brim and tip it down, lower on his features before deciding instead to push it further back on his head. He let out a groaning sigh that punctured Hanzo’s lungs and left the other breathless as he finally snatched the damned hat off his head completely and held it in his lap.

“Yes,” Hanzo finally answered, thankful that his voice was more composed than he felt.  His insides were twisting and turning. A cold sweat broke out along his spine as he felt the spike of adrenaline course through his veins.

“So,” He said again with his slow drawl, holding onto that final syllable for a while until he looked over and caught his eye. “I have been thinkin’ bout this for a while, I am successfully befuddled enough by the alcohol to no longer care about my inhibitions. I wanna kiss you.”

The next moment, Hanzo felt Jesse lean over him and soft, wind-chapped lips pressing against his own. His eyes fluttered closed as his body moved of its own volition, pressing back into the kiss. He was out of practice. This could not be enjoyable for the other, not like how Hanzo felt, with the burning heat spreading through his body from his lips down to the base of his spine.

Until Jesse pulled back. It was just a fraction, but it was still too far, leaving him chilled in the night air and desperate to be engulfed in the other’s heat again.  Hanzo chased after those sweet lips, leaning forward and trying to recapture them as he heard a faint chuckle from the other. He looked up, into his smiling face and felt the heat rising off his skin. He eyes locked with those golden whiskey eyes and saw the crinkle of his smile. His hand moved up, capturing his cheek in his hand and pulled him forward again.

Hanzo’s eyes drifted shut as he melted into the other. He felt the press of their shoulders and the dull throbbing ache in his arm from the awkwardness of this position. He felt the groan rumble through the other man’s chest as he shifted and his own warm hand brushed a stray strand from Hanzo’s forehead behind his ear and continued back, tangling in the base of his ponytail and pulling it free from its confines.

He pulled Hanzo in closer as he deepened the kiss, taking the Alpha into his lap and grinding their hips together. Their tongues tangle together.  He tasted of cigars and mint. Wild and untamed. His beard scratched deliciously against his heated cheek and Hanzo could not stop his moan from escaping as his arms wrapped tighter around him and he grinds his hips forward, reveling in the delicious friction created there.

He feels large in his arms. Impossibly big for an Omega.  Hanzo never thought of himself as small by any means, but those large hands trailing up his back, bunching his shirt under his shoulders and groping at his ass and those immense arms, holding him tightly against that broad chest that he knows is completely covered in hair.  Jesse was unlike any Omega he had ever encountered. The opposite of what every tutor ever taught him existed in the world and he was exquisite.

It is almost as if they were trying to devour each other, pulling the other closer and growling as the light caresses quickly turned to bruising holds. Hanzo moaned louder as hands go straight to his ass, pulling him down as the other moved up and grinding their hips together.  

Hanzo pulled back, gasping for air as his lungs burn with agony. Jesse’s lips trail down his neck, nipping and licking at his pale skin, tasting the salty sweat that collected along his collarbone as those hands teased the shirt up farther, rolling around the Hanzo’s front and cupping his pectorals in his hands and squeezing.  Hanzo gasped louder, arching his back at calloused fingers brushed over his hardening nipples and a violent shudder wracked through his body, pulling another delicious moan from his mouth he was unable to control.

The shirt was pulled up and over his head and tossed aside, lost in the darkness as Jesse pulled him in close, lifting Hanzo up and trailing his tongue down his chest and taking a dusty pink nipple into his mouth and suckled lewdly, drawing out his own deep, throaty moan as his large hands splayed on his back, holding Hanzo in place as shutters of pleasure engulfed his mind and sent him careening to the edge.

Hanzo’s grip on his hair tightened, pulling and pushing all at once, demanding more of that wicked, carnal pleasure brought from Jesse’s sinful mouth. He slowly licked across the plains of his chest to the nipple’s twin, flicking it with his tongue before wrapping his lips around and laved the other with as much care as he gave the other. His finger’s trailed up, slowly tracing the outline of his tattoo, feeling the raised edges of the scaled and storm clouds.

It took all his effort to open his eyes and peer down at the sight below him. Once again he caught Jesse’s glazed eyes, blown wide with lust as he rolled his tongue around the pink nub and smirked before pulling back. A thin line of spit connected his mouth to his wet chest and Hanzo felt his pants tighten to impossible lengths.  

He gripped the edges of Jesse’s shirt and in one swift motion, pulled it up and over his head, hurling it away with the other forgotten shirt. Hanzo moves, slotting their hips together once more and sloppily kissing along Jesse’s jaw, pushing him back until both of them are laying on the mattress.  Lazily, they move as one, grinding against each other’s hardness and leaving breathy kisses against each other’s skin. Once or twice, Hanzo would thrust hard, pulling a rapturous moan from the man under him until they both were sweaty with need.

Jesse’s hand moved down, toying with the button of Hanzo’s pants and rolling it between his fingers as if to torture him with the idea of being undressed.  Hanzo groaned loudly, catching his hooded eyes, peering down between them, at the obvious tent in his pants. “Been too long,” Jesse let out a breathy whine as if pleading with Hanzo not to end this.  He looked a wreck, with swollen, open lips and his naturally wild hair sticking out in every direction. Hanzo wouldn’t end this for the world.

He gave a quick nod of approval and suddenly, Jesse’s hand in inside his slacks, gripping his hard cock and stroking him roughly. The angle was awkward and the fist not perfect, but Hanzo felt himself almost shatter with each clumsy pull. His arms braced at the sides of Jesse’s head and he thrust his hips more. “Oh god,” He gasped. “O-Oh god….”  His touch was like electricity shooting through his veins. He felt hyper-aware of everything around him. Of every light breeze on his bare backside. He reached down with one hand and shimmied his way out of the offending tight jeans, kicking them off his body as Jesse’s grip on him became more confident.

It had been too long for him, and never had he seen a more beautiful Omega.  The sweet scent enveloped his whole being and settled in his brain. Even here, from this distance he could feel the lingering effects of an Omega’s arousal on his brain, telling him to claim and breed. That this would belong to him if he just would give into his primal desires.  He resisted the urge to nestle his head right in the crook of his neck and mark him permanently over his scent glands….he resisted the urge to grab Jesse by the obnoxious gold belt he wore and tear it and his jeans from his body and force him onto hands and knees and claim him there.  He resisted.

“You are so beautiful,” Hanzo whined, fumbling with the obnoxious belt, trying in vain to get it to unlatch.  Finally, he pushed himself upright, sitting between Jesse’s spread legs and began to yank and pull, cursing loudly at the offending ornament.

Jesse laughed, his hand still working Hanzo slowly, spreading the slick from his cock down, over his shaft. A finger rolled over the spongy head, smearing more clear precum over his shaft. “Want a little help there?” His voice was heady with lust and full of amusement.  “God I love it when a man is this worked up about me.”

“How can a man not be?”  Hanzo breathed out as the hands moved off his body and went to his belt, quickly unlatching it with the grace of a man who has done that a thousand times.  

Jesse winked and popped the button of his pants. “Do you want me to or do you want the honors?”

Hanzo growled. He grabbed Jesse’s left boot and lifted Jesse’s leg up as the other leaned back, watching with hooded eyes. Hanzo yanked hard, pulling the footwear clean off his body and went to toss aside as well. Jesse sat up and grabbed it, smirking still. “Hold on now, a man needs his boots free of scorpions and spiders.”  He reached down, setting it neatly on the tailgate.

Hanzo grabbed his second leg and pulled it into the air as well, sending Jesse crashing back against the mattress in a whoop of laughter as it popped free. He set it neatly by its companion and turned back to Jesse. “Pants off,” He ordered.

“Yessir,”  Jesse lifted his hips up and teased along the band of his jeans as his other hand slowly pulled the zipper down.  It was torture, Hanzo decided, seeing this man work his own clothing off without letting Hanzo see the prize that he really wanted.

Hanzo’s cock gives an interested twitch and Jesse’s hand is back around him in an instant. His finger runs along the slit of his shaft and works the foreskin down until he can see the angry red head.  He was by no means a small man. He was all Alpha and he never once had a complaint about his performance, but here, in this man’s large hand, watching with every stroke his cock disappearing inside that meaty fist, he felt perfect, like this fist was made to hold his cock and his cock alone.  

Hanzo moaned and gripped Jesse’s pants in both hands, pulling them down as far as his spread legs would allow, leaving them low on his hips and his mound of wild, untamed belly hair exposed to the cool night air.  He wanted that. He needed to see more of that thatch of exquisite body on Jesse McCree.

He was built like a boxer, just as he had expected, all rolling muscles and wide expanses under a thin layer of chub.  He could see the roll of his love handles from the sides of his pants and yearned to grab both sides of his hips and hold on as he rutted against his aching body.  Every inch of him was covered in a thick layer of coarse, dark hair that he could bury his fingers into and pull. Everything about Jesse McCree screamed for him to be worshiped and adored.  Everything about him demanded to be claimed.

Hanzo sat back reluctantly as Jesse lifted his hips higher and swiftly pulled his pants free from his body and flipped them to hang over the side of the truck.

And Hanzo was lost in the overwhelming scent that followed.  He smelt beautifully Omegan. His spicey arousal mixed with the scent of slick and the musk of sex.  He wanted to drown in that scent completely and bury his face between those hairy legs.

Jesse smirked, apparently reading his mind as he lay back and gave a few tugs on his own heavy member that now lay, thick and full, against his belly, dripping pre. Between his legs, Hanzo could already see the wetness smear, glistening off his body and invading his senses more. “Well?”

Hanzo blinked back to reality, catching the amused smirk on Jesse’s face as he continued to stroke his cock.  “What?”

“You just said you wanted to eat me out. What’s stopping you?”

His face flushed. Had he really said that? The eager look on the other’s face suggested that yes, he had indeed admitted to wanting to bury his head between those glorious mounds of his ass and lick away all the juices that poured from the other.  He wanted the other to cry out his name in ecstasy and beg for release. He needed to hear that cowboy’s voice break as he came all over his chest, begging for Hanzo’s knot.

Hanzo moved back between his legs, letting his fingers trail along Jesse’s bent knee down to his thigh and back up again. He kissed slowly down the same path, feeling his judgment melting away. Everything about this felt so familiar, so utterly, devastatingly familiar. It was like the first time he fell into a heat, that sickeningly sweet spice of the Omegas in heat that triggered his own terrible rut. That overwhelming time when he allowed himself a moment of weakness and gave into his base desires.  Not it was here, spread out before him like a platter and he wanted nothing more than to ravage the Omega before him.

Jesse shuttered hard as those lips moved further and further down. Closer and closer to his core.Hanzo hooked his legs over his shoulders and Jesse bit the back of his hand to keep from crying out as he felt sloppy, wet kisses descend on his hip bone and trail inward to his cock. He whines as Hanzo licked him slowly, from base to tip and swirls his tongue along this head and under his foreskin.  Jesse cried out, fisting the thin sheets over the small mattress, twisting them in his grip as Hanzo’s mouth moves back to lapping at the pre that oozes out. A string of curse words follows, his hands flying into Hanzo’s dark hair, twisting and pulling as his hips cant up into that warm heat. “Hanzo!” He cried out, face contorting in pleasure.

Hanzo let out a delighted noise in response to the rough treatment, opening up the back of his throat and taking him down.  Jesse was deliciously thick, filling his mouth perfectly. He had never been with a man this large before, and not just for an omega. Jesse was thick in every way that delighted him. Jesse’s grip tightened as he guided him further onto his cock and settling into a languished rhythm. Hanzo gripped the base of his cock and pumped all that he could not in his hand. He delighted in the salty taste on his tongue.

“Oh, fuck me,” Jesse threw his head back and moaned loudly, squeezing his thighs around his head.His voice was ragged and full of need, begging the man above him for more. Finally satisfied, Hanzo pulled off and leaned down lavishing kisses on the spot where his cock and balls met. He reached up and pressed the pad of his index finger against his hole, watching the tight ring of muscle easily open up as he pushed inside.  Jesse cried out, precum oozing out of his cock and pooled on his belly.

He was tight. It had to have been a long time for him as well.  Jesse lolled his head back and moaned as he forced himself to relax as he worked his finger into him to the last knuckle. Hanzo let his other hand trail up, rubbing at his abdomen as he slowly worked the second finger into that tight heat. He kissed along his thigh and began to scissor them into him, working him open as the other moaned and rolled his hips, pulling those fingers deeper into his wanting body.  “Get on with it!” he whined. “I’m good, take me now,” He huffed. “Hanzo.”

Hanzo slowly works the third finger into him, watching as Jesse thrashed. He panted and rolled his hips and Hanzo watches the digits disappear into that quivering hole as he curls his fingers upwards, seeking out that bundle of nerves inside him that will drive the Omega over the edge and leave him broken and unwound.  A swell of pride wells inside him as he presses inside him and Jesse cried out, spurts of white painting his chest as he obviously found that right spot. “Here?” Hanzo teases and presses there again, receiving the loudest noise yet. Jesse arched up, hands gripping Hanzo’s shoulder’s tight as he cried out again and again.

It was like a live wire sparked inside the other as he rolled his fingers over him again and again, watching as the omega began to cry out. He whined and pleaded, begging Hanzo to hurry up and take him.

It was the end of him.  He pulled his fingers free and bringing them to his lips and licking away the juices as heavy hooded eyes watched. He crawled up his body, blanketing the Omega before capturing his lips again in a deep kiss as he pressed the blunt head of his cock against his entrance.  Jesse moaned against his lips, wrapping his legs around Hanzo’s own and pulling him closer. He quivered as Hanzo pushes past his rim and Hanzo groans at how tight and hot his insides are. He pushes in slowly and watches the other’s face for any discomfort, finding only the desperate moan of pleasure as he is stretched oh so nicely.

“Fuck yes,” He whined, throwing his head back and letting out a cry of pleasure as Hanzo finally began to move. Jesse moaned against him again and again, with each slow push until he is sunk deep within him to the base of his swelling knot. He leans down and captures Jesse’s lower lip in his teeth and dragged it back before surging forward and kissing him hard enough that their teeth clink together.

He starts slow, pushing deep into his body and allowing him to enjoy the feeling of being filled to the brim. He kissed along his neck, nipping against the skin and sucking deep bruises into the skin, leaving marks that will definitely be there in the morning.   

Jesse moaned, raking his nails down Hanzo’s back and leaving raised red welts. It was deliciously intoxicating, feeling the grinding push as he dug his nails harder into his lower back, “Harder,” He snarled. “I ain’t some wilting flower. Harder! Fuck me like I will feel it for days. I want to feel you in me long after your knot is gone.”

Hanzo snarled and thrust downward hard. Jesse cried out as he felt the blunt head crash down inside him at the new, brutal pace until he is a mess, digging his nails deep into Hanzo’s skin, hard enough to leave deep half-moon imprints of his nails as he snaps his hips forward again and again.

He hooked a leg over his shoulder and thrust in him harder, finding a way to get deeper and deeper, each time bruising against his prostate and sending Jesse into a drooling mess. Jesse squeezed around him so hard, pulling more moans from his lips and he braced himself harder. “Oh god….Jesse,” He panted.

“Mmm, baby,” Jesse cried out, meeting each of his thrusts. “You are so big in me. So wide and -AH!- God I can feel your knot, pressing against me baby. I can feel it. It’s so big, honey. I want you to knot meeeee!”  He threw his head back and whined breathlessly.

Hanzo nodded. That was all it took. He pulled his hips back and snapped forward one final time. His knot popped into that tight ring of muscles and the coil within him snaps.  His knot swelled to an impossible size, painting Jesse’s insides with white as the Omega on top of him howls, his heels digging into the mattress of the bed and arching his back as thick ropes of white splatter across his belly and up to his neck.

Hanzo collapsed, boneless on top of the other as the world came crashing down around him and his vision when white.  His lips trembled as he pressed wet, clumsy kisses against his skin. Strong arms slowly wrap around him, holding him close as he shuttered and let his body come back to earth and reality.

Jesse’s soft lips pressed into his hair.  He felt his eyes grow heavy as he reached out and caught his used shirt, mopping up his chest of the cooling mess they made before tossing the shirt aside.

Jesse chuckled.  “That was your shirt,”  Fingers trailed down his spine, feeling each ridge and bump down to his tailbone.

“Worth it,” Hanzo smiled.  From somewhere, he felt something soft and warm pull over his rapidly cooling skin.  “That was incredible.”

Jesse chuckled.  “Couldn’t agree more.”

Chapter Text

A cool early morning breeze rolled over Jesse’s exposed arm. He shivers and pulled the other man closer to him, relishing in the post-coital bliss that usually accompanied a night of good fucking. He fingers itched for a cigarette, but the man above him, still slotted against his side was far too comfortable and Jesse still craved the skin to skin contact. He was not willing to break whatever drunken spell he had cast last night.

He blamed the alcohol, but in truth, a couple beers and a few shots of cheap whiskey were nowhere near enough to slow his inhibitions. No, he had wanted this. Hanzo Shimada was a trained killer. A ruthless monster who cared not for the destruction he lay. In every account of every narrative, this was a man who was heartless and cold.

And still, he craved the nearness of him.

The tender way he kissed along his scars and the soft, caress of his calloused fingers over him, like he was something delicate to hold showed none of that awful demon he was prepared for. His every calculated movement and that quiet calm as he tucked himself back into Jesse’s waiting arms spoke of a man who was more complex than just the cold heir of the Shimada Clan.

Hanzo shifted as the sky faded from the deep violet to pink. The sun began to tip over the side of the truck and slowly melted down into his sleeping face. He nosed against Jesse’s jaw and stretched, only to pull Jesse in tighter. “Morning,” He finally mumbled, his voice deep and gravely from sleep. It sent shocks of electric lust right into Jesse’s core.

He threaded his fingers through the dark, inky hair and slowly worked out the knots that formed there, kissing along his temple. “Good morning to you too.”

“Don’t want to get up yet,” Hanzo huffed, blowing warm breath against his heated skin.

A smile crept along Jesse’s features at the haughty nature of the man over him, “Brat.” He pressed his lips against the other’s forehead and heard the rumbled affirmative hum from the other man as he nuzzled sweetly against the wisps of grey hair at the man’s temple, adoring the slight tickle of the silky strands. “How sore are you?”

Hanzo hummed and he felt the smile bloom against his skin, sending another wave of warmth through him. Slowly, his fingers began to trace over the scars on his chest, dipping into the starburst of skin around his side where a bullet had penetrated him long ago. Each movement was careful in its trek and mapping out every flaw and disfigurement that ran along his body. Last night it would have been hard to see them all, to see the angry gashes that never healed right and left mountains and valley of ugly wounds over his body.

The archer did not seem to mind though, silently rolling his fingers down his sides and back up again, never laughing and never questioning what he found along the way. But then again, in the warm light of the morning, his eyes wandered down the other’s body, drinking in the beautiful sight.

Hanzo was the opposite of him in every way. Every inch of his body was as if cut from marble, all hard lines, and smooth skin. He smiled and drank in the intricate design of the man’s arm, the scales and swirls of a dragon that moved all the way up to the man’s plush pectorals. There was some scarring around his knees, leading down to the shiny chrome of prosthetics, but that seemed to be the only flaw on this Adonis of a man. Jesse offhandedly wondered if they were cosmetic or due to an accident before turning his attention back to more interesting aspects of the other man’s anatomy. He let his fingers trace around his belly button, and play with the thin line of dark hair that led to his flaccid member. Jesse found his fingers slowly rolling over the raised flesh on his shoulder. A brand of twin dragons encircling each other. Consuming each other. A perfect representation of the man it was burned into. A family forced to consume others, all while losing themselves in the process.

A light smile played over the Alpha’s lips as he pushed Jesse’s hand away as the fingers continued to trace along his lower stomach. “Enough,” Hanzo’s bow calloused fingers worked their way down his left arm, sending shivers down his spine. He expected him to stop where flesh met metal, but instead, those fingers continued along, mapping out the ridges of hard steel from his elbow to wrist. He worked slowly, taking as much care to chart this piece of Jesse that he created for him. He watched. Strong, delicate fingers continued their track down, outlining the skull motif and each joint and intersection of the metal arm piece. “This is delicate work,” Hanzo mused quietly, intertwining their legs and pulling his bodies closer together again.

Jesse couldn’t help but smile. Most saw his piece and immediately asked why not get one that looked more natural. Science has created prosthetics that looked and act and felt real enough, why the chrome? Why not be normal? “Custom job from a friend,” He flexed his fingers as Hanzo continued his pathway down, intertwining their hands together. “He said it fit my aesthetic better than just some rubber arm.”

Hanzo hummed and nuzzled along his neck, drinking in his content scent and let out a low rumble of approval. “Your aesthetic is ridiculous,” He smiled against his skin, peppering minute kisses along his collarbone and jugular. “Feels good against my skin, too.”

“You said it yourself, it’s a good job.” It was true. The best engineer had crafted it himself. Delicate nerve endings placed at every connecting place and a natural heat that mimicked his own internal temperature. Most people would not notice the difference unless looking at him. Gloves were a godsend when working as were long sleeves. Most people he encountered would never notice a difference in him.

The weight was not unbearable either. It was lightweight, based on the same technology that rebuilt Genji from the ground up. He never felt fatigued and rarely removed it, except for cleaning and maintenance (or most often, sheer laziness). Everything from it was made specifically for Jesse, down to the laser engraved skull. It was a perfect model of the piece of him that was missing, all except the Deadlock brand. That, Torbjorn reckoned, could be eliminated.

“What happened, if I may ask?” Hanzo pressed his lips against the palm, sending shivers of delight straight to the pit of Jesse’s stomach.

“Boring story really,” he lied. “Car accident. I was rushed to the nearest hospital and the bones were too crushed. Had to amputate. Spent months in rehab trying to get my pain managed and get used to this honkin’ thing.” It was...mostly truth, he surmised. A car was near him when Deadlock caught him. Hell, he hadn’t even been on the trail of the gang. It was pure bad luck that found him in the Dallas on a layover flight due to impending weather up north. Overwatch officials found a nice little motel near the airport and now he waited for a call from Reyes about the rendezvous point when he was jumped.

He hadn’t even seen them coming.

Hanzo hummed and continued his kisses down his wrist, sending more shivers down his body. He had never expected the man to be so delicate with him...to feel so cherished in his arms. It was welcome, to know he was wanted. “Liar,” He gave him a tired little smirk.

Jesse groaned and threw his head back and let it bounce off the mattress. “Damn darlin’, you’re killin’ me here.” He let out a loud puff of air and looked down to his prosthetic, his other hand went into his own chestnut hair, pushing it back and twisting it in his fingers as Hanzo continued to kiss along his wrist. He took a deep breath and began to speak.

The torture was not as bad as he had expected. It started with run-of-the-mill tactics- tying him to a chair and interrogating him for hours for information he didn’t have about missions that didn’t exist from sources that sounded phony. He knew how to play the game though. He gave them just enough information to sound right to keep them interested. Just enough information to keep him alive until he missed his mandatory check-in. Reyes would know how to find him from there. He had to trust in that.

Reyes hadn’t reached him in time though. Deadlock moved on to more intense forms of torture as the day waned on into the night. He endured the broken nose and the punctured blood vessels in his eyes, and what felt like fluid in his lungs. All of it felt routine even though it was painful. They would get bored of it soon and throw him into a cell for the night and see if he survived, just to start up the process anew after they were well rested and more creative.

It never happened though. They never tired, never took breaks. Instead, they locked his arm into a device they lovingly called ‘The Biter’. It was then that he began to say his final prayers as he watched the large machinery that looked to be originally meant for compacting trash come down on his arm so fast and hard, it looked like a scene from a cartoon. It didn’t feel real.

Jesse inwardly winced at the faded memory, flexing his fingers tighter. “An’ that’s really all there is. Woke up in the hospital, obviously saved. Can’t remember much more past PT was a bitch and I had to go see a damn shrink that hated the life outta me for several months. It was luck that this was all I got,” He smiled down at Hanzo, nestled in his arms and pulled him in closer “Just one of those things that sometimes happens. ‘Sides, ain’t like you don’t got some story as well.” He toed along the warm smooth metal of Hanzo’s legs. “You gotta story?”

Hanzo hummed. His arm tightened around Jesse’s middle inadvertently as he tensed up suddenly before releasing him altogether and rolling onto his back. “It was a…” His voice trailed off as his eyes wandered up to the rose-colored sky. A far off look glazed over his eyes as Hanzo let out a long exhale as if searching for the explanation.

Jesse propped himself up on an elbow as he waited in the silence. He bit his tongue to keep from asking out, though he desperately wished to. There was so much to unpack here, he realized, watching those dark amber eyes search the heaven for answers. He slowly rolled over and settled himself in the crook of Hanzo’s neck, wanting nothing more than to ease the aching inside the man near him

“Ya ain’t gotta tell me, I got enough demons in me to know that some things are meant to be private.”

“It was my obligation,” Hanzo stated finally, “It was required of me and I had very little choice in the matter.” Hanzo sat up and reached across Jesse, finding his abandoned jeans and slipped them smoothly over his hips as he stepped down off the flatbed. “The sun is rising quickly. We should start off as soon as possible. Before the day gets too hot.”

Jesse cursed under his breath at his reckless flirting. It seemed safe enough, complimenting another man’s gear right after his own was so thoroughly examined. It seemed the universe had other plans in place though. “Yeah, gimme a moment and I’ll be up.”

The cab door slammed shut as Hanzo came back into his line of sight, his chest still bare and hair lay disheveled around his shoulders. He looked more like the rogue he was in this lighting with a faint five o’clock shadow over his well-sculpted jaw and that slight downwards turn of his lips as he looked Jesse over with an unreadable mask. “Last night, was I too-” He caught himself and cleared his throat as he set something down next to him and leaned both his well-defined arms over the side. “I shall drive today. You navigate.”

And he was gone, moving back to the cab of the truck to fetch more of the items out, and away from his line of sight. Jesse slowly sat up, feeling the crick in his back turn to a sharp jab of pain in his lower back. His head pounded and he groaned as he reached for the bag Hanzo left and pulled out a clean pair of his jeans. He smiled at the gesture and began to dress, examining the damage along the way.

He could feel the welts along his skin where nails bit in and left deep, bruises along the way. It hurt to twist and to bend as he worked his pants up his hips and buckled them back into place, feeling the stiff fabric rub against the bruising. He always had been one for lovers leaving their marks on him, especially when the days stretched on and he was once again left alone in a bed, staring at a black ceiling. He could feel them itch under his skin and recall the hard lines and deep grooves of his lovers. But to have the man stay with him after all was said and done…

Lena had called it twitterpated.

A white t-shirt fell into his lap, followed by a red checkered flannel. He looked up to find Hanzo zipping up Jesse’s black duffle bag and storing it in the back. “I am not going to be trapped in a truck with you for hours and have you reek of sweat and sex,” Hanzo explained, not at all meeting his gaze.

Whatever magic the desert night had played on them had long since passed, he understood that. Trysts in the dark while in the back of the truck and unplanned never ended well in his experience. The idea of Hanzo just leaving though, forgetting their mission and disappearing into the void made him ache from the inside out. Maybe it was loneliness. Maybe it was cruel to tease himself into thinking there could have been anything more than...this.

Jesse pulled the white shirt over his head and stretched it down over his belly. Hanzo’s gaze never faltered as he watched the cowboy slip the long-sleeved flannel on and slowly buttoned it up, “Like what ya see?” Jesse teased.

Hanzo smirked, “It is not...objectionable.”

“You weren’t complaining about it yesterday none,” Jesse winked, grabbing one of his boots from the tailgate and pulling it on. “And nothing you did last night with your mouth was objectionable either.” He pulled on the second boot, his smirk grew wicked as he continued on, “‘Sides, I’m a mite bit sore from all those times you decided to-”

“Enough!” Hanzo fumbled as he threw the hat at Jesse, but there was no anger there. No disgust or hatred. Just the barest hint of a smile. “We must get the truck cleaned out so we can continue on.”

Jesse let out a groan as he slipped out of the back and dropped into the hard earth. His cried out in protest, threatening to collapse under him. He gripped the side of the truck and slowly made his way to the driver’s side. “Damn,” He cursed as he pulled open the door. “You know how I told you to make sure I felt it in the morning?”

“Do you regret your request now?” Hanzo lifted up his cello case and slung it over his back as he turned away. He couldn’t hide the pride in that smile though.

Jesse laughed and picked up some smaller things and shuffled to the back with them. “Not exactly complaining but-”

“This is not you whining and complaining? Here I was, being an attentive Alpha last night and giving you my knot, exactly how you asked.” He shook his head and clicked his tongue like a disappointed grandmother. “Ungrateful.” He moved behind Jesse though and ran his hands along his flank. “Get into the car, let me handle the rest?”

“First off; truck,” Jesse turned in his arms and tried to ignore the wonderful scent of Hanzo. That scent that now clung to his skin. He looked down at the Alpha and leaned in, giving him a quick kiss. “Second; don’t worry 'bout me none. I’m just mouthy.”

Hanzo chuckled. “I recall that well. Sit in the back at least and sort things out. I will hand you items and then show you how to track the wireless signal.”

For a split second he wanted to protest, state that just because he was an Omega that took a knot last night, it didn’t mean that he couldn’t work just as hard. That he had spent many a night with Alphas that doing far more to his body and how he had been bent into twistier pretzels but the throbbing pain in his back and the wicked ache in his shoulders reminded him that he was no longer twenty-two and actively in training for hours every day. He nodded and pulled himself up as Hanzo went back for the final items in the cab.

It was better this way anyway, he mused as he bunched up the sheets from last night and dropped them into a container to the side of the mattress he used for laundry. He knew where things went and how to best organize everything in here. He was never a man for owning a lot of things, just the bare essentials and he rather liked it that way. Less to leave behind. Less to get attached to. It was easier to dump a truck full of worthless items than it was to escape a safehouse he spent months rebuilding with his own two hands.

He maneuvered his way into the passenger seat and grunted as he tried to get comfortable. “Are you sure you know how to drive this? It’s a little more touchy than some of the newer model cars.”

The truck sprang to life and Hanzo gave him a disparaging look. “No, I have absolutely no concept of how to operate such a delicate piece of machinery. Whatever shall I do?” His voice was completely deadpan, but his eyes sparkled with teasing mirth. Jesse rather liked that look on the assassin’s features. He seemed softer in this light. Not innocent or sweet at all but…

“Do you expect to find the inception point by magic, or are you going to pull out the tablet and actually direct me?” Hanzo side eyed him with a smirk on his face as he placed both hands on the wheel.

“See, I was figurin’ I would take some extra time to get us good and lost, then I would start to look,” He smirked and pulled out the tablet and turned it on. “Go south...no...southwest,” He pointed “Signal is stronger that way.”

Hanzo took directions easily. Every few miles it seemed, the signal would shift, thought their direction still remained south. The signal would shift though just so slightly, that he would not see the signal weakening until it was too late, causing them to backtrack. Hanzo, for his part, never lashed out. He never grew frustrated at the change in direction or the fact that Jesse would shout out suddenly.

Luckily, Hanzo finally relented on the radio silence after an hour. A loud yawn from the archer confirmed that they needed something to occupy their minds or else he would crash hard into rock and pull out the whole transmission, then they would be thoroughly fucked. The music though had to be something that Hanzo would not balk at and not so dull to put Jesse to sleep. It was a hard balance.

“I enjoy classical music,” Which surprised Jesse in the least. As the archer listed off composers he assumed long ago turned to bones and dust. He could feel his eyelids drooping already with the lengthy, vaguely German sounding names. He was sure Reinhardt would approve.

“Naw, I was forced to a fancy gala once where I had to dress up and the whole shebang. There was that kind of music there and I nearly shot myself in the foot,” Jesse made a face.

“National Public Radio always has-” His words were drowned out by the loud, obnoxious snore that came from the man next to him. “Alright fine!” Hanzo yelled over the obnoxious snores, a smile on his pretty lips. “I cannot help that I have refined tastes.”

“Snob, you mean. You ain’t nothing but a snob.”

He shrugged his shoulders, not denying anything. He reached over to tap an icon on his tablet and opened the app. “That is all my music. You are welcome to pick anything from there.”

Jesse scrolled through the list, unable to read any of the names. Japanese was the device’s primary language and Hanzo’s music reflected that. After spending several years in Japan, he felt fluent enough when speaking and listening, but reading was never his strong suit. Words never liked to stay on the page when he read in his first language. He didn’t even want to try in his fifth.

He hit random (or what he assumed was random) and sat back. His eyes closed as he prayed to higher beings that Hanzo had a better taste in music than the other Shimada. His fears were quelled as the soulful tunes of Sam Cooke wafted through the truck. He settled back and let the harmony settle deep in his bones. “All right, he mumbled at the wonderful crooning of the soulful ballad filled the space. “This is passable.”

He switched tabs back over to the tracking and watched the small blip, continuing to guide Hanzo through the desert. The blip on the tablet grew stronger and zagged less and less frequently the moment the truck crossed over to a major highway and headed straight south, following the road. The ache in his body tripled as the truck stopped it’s constant bumping and jolting and finally drove smooth as silk.

After another hour, he found the tablet balanced on his knee, with his eyes on the straight line of the road ahead and his attention wavering away and back to the archer next to him. Neither felt the need to watch it as closely now.

His stomach rumbled, loudly.

“So,” Jesse whistled and put his feet up onto the dashboard as he reclined back in his seat. Even with the music, he needed to break the monotony of watching the desert, sky and black paved road. “I grew up ‘round these parts. Well, just outside of Albuquerque and sometimes Santa Fe, depending on what the work was.” It felt good to just talk about nothing. More than anything, he was happy to just fill the void.

His stomach began to twist with hunger and loudly growl. Hanzo sneered over at him, almost as if he were insulted that the man next to him required real food and not a single protein bar and a bottle of water to keep him going. “Next truck stop we pass through, pull over. There will be showers and food.”

Hanzo scoffed and stole a glance over at him, “Grease covered food and a bacteria-filled lavatory,” His stomach growled as well, throwing off his entire air of prestige. “Tell me they would at least have a salad or food that is not in burger form.”

“Are you tellin’ me that you don’t like a good, sloppy burger?” He gripped his chest and fell back. “My heart! I don’t think that we will work out after all.” Hanzo laughter came more naturally now as he reached over and shoved him playfully. Jesse snorted and shoved back. “And here I was thinkin’ you were my heart’s desire. Absolutely disappointing.”

“Oh god, do you really believe in those children’s stories?” Hanzo looked over at Jesse and shook his head. “I am quickly losing respect for you, Mr. McCree.”

“Children’s stories? My Abuelita used to tell many stories about goin’ out an’ finding my other half. She would tell these wandering tales about how she and my Tito met on a mission trip to Mexico and they instantly clicked on everything and she knew--just knew, he was her soul mate. Are you sayin’ her stories are untrue?”

“Soulmates are a ridiculous story we tell children to placate them into obeying orders,” Hanzo looked over to Jesse. “Your grandmother meeting a man that filled her needs just means she was fortunate enough to be good-natured.”

“Are you insinuating that my grandmother, God rest her soul, was lying to me to keep me from breaking the law? I hate to say but she failed spectacularly.”

“I am stating that children’s stories are tales to entertain and to teach moral lessons. Soulmates are just another fairytale.” He let out a long breath and sat up straighter at the wheel. “My brother was obsessed with the concept. He spent hours with fortune tellers and begged them for any type of instruction on how to contact your soulmate and where to find them. I would be forced along to every one of them as well.” He shook his head. “Once he made me write to them. It was foolish.”

Jesse chuckled and dropped his feet back to the floor. “You know the whole story where if you concentrate super hard and write on your arm, it would appear on your soulmate’s skin?”

Hanzo nodded, “I think we all have heard that silly story. My brother was convinced it worked. He spent money and time on silly trinkets meant to enhance his abilities to communicate.” He chuckled and looked over at Jesse. “Father was always furious to see him, scribbling in black marker all over his arms.”

“My two COs had these matching tattoos in the same place, yeah?” He touched his upper right shoulder. “This tiny thing, black outline of a crown with their initials on it. Cheesiest damn thing I ever did see. The rumor was thought, that Reyes was the one that went out and got the tattoo. While in the chair, he was thinking about his mate so much that it appeared on the other.” He shook his head. “Those two are the only ones that made me think that true love and mates and soulmates actually existed. I think I was mostly lookin’ for that fairytale ending. It is silly now, thinking back on it.”

“Pure fairytale,” Hanzo hummed in agreement. “Like there is a rabbit that lives on the moon.”

“Haven’t you been online? Bunnies play professional e-sports and star in blockbuster movies now. It's gorillas live up there,” Jesse smiled easily as the man next to him burst into wheezing laughter.

They turned off at the next exit, towards the closest truck stop.

Chapter Text

“So you're telling me there is a candy making rodent on the moon?”

Hanzo burst into laughter again as he slammed the door of the truck closed. They had been on that subject for the past half hour, McCree, acting the damned fool he was and questioning every bit of mythology that Hanzo threw at him. It always seemed to come back to Tsuki no Usagi. “It is a children’s story! Surely you grew up with just as ridiculous of tales. Old tales your grandfather would share?”

Jesse shook his head and slung his arm around Hanzo’s shoulder pulling him close as he swung the small duffle over his shoulder as they walked to the truck stop. “Grandmother,” He corrected. “My Abuelita was the one full of horseshit stories.”

Hanzo hummed, “Tell me one?” The Alpha seemed to melt into his side and Jesse swelled with pride. Never before in his life had he ever made an Alpha swoon, let alone have one like him enough to stop an assassination.

Jesse smiled and maneuvered them past the restaurant and convenience store, and led him to the back side, where the motel and gym. He could ignore the rumbling in his stomach for a little while longer to get cleaned and feel human again. “Lemme see, a story my Lita Rosa would tell me,” He hummed. “Well, once upon a time the world was made up of gods and people.”

“I wasn’t expecting the whole story,” Hanzo huffed.

“Listen, you wanna hear my story or don’t you?”

“Apologies, go on,” Hanzo nuzzled into him.

“Well, I can’t right go on anymore, the story flew plum out my ear and into the universe. See what you made me do. You interrupt a man while he is thinkin’ and you end up giving part of his mind away to the old gods. They take those thoughts you know. What they really want is your memories. The stuff locked deep up in here,” He poked Hanzo’s temple with a finger, then kissed it. “But adults are too strong to forget those things, that’s why they go after the elderly and the children.”

“Oh no, what happens to them?” Hanzo threaded his fingers through Jesse’s, squeezing tight.

“Children are so small it don’t matter. Their memories are fresh and taste like cool water. It’s good and it’s nourishing and everywhere,” He waved off that idea. “What is the best is the elderly. They are full of good stories. Full of memories and thoughts. They ferment like wine. That is what the old gods want. To steal your mind and drink it down like wine.”

Jesse pulled out his wallet and pulled out a white, unmarked keycard and slid it into the electronic lock. “Here’s another story for ya, baby. Once upon a time, a very trusting maintenance staff left a very important keycard lying around. See, unlike the custodial staff, maintenance need to move around to different facilities.” he winked.

“Some would consider that stealing,” Hanzo stepped into the facility. It was first and foremost a gym. While not state of the art, it was at least well maintained. The wall was lined with simple treadmills and sets of weights. A large sign was posted on the back mirror, asking guests to kindly replaced and clean the equipment after use. Behind the gym was a path that led to a pool and hotel. It was obvious this oasis was meant to be more than just a quick stop to grab gas, though they had done that as well. It was meant for people staying overnight as well. For now, though, the gym was bare and clean.

Behind the gym, he could see the doors marked for the sauna and bathrooms. Hanzo nodded in approval.

“Most truckers don’t take the time to come in here,” McCree explained as he headed straight to the back room. “Or money. The gym comes free if you stay overnight in the hotel, but most people would rather sit around the pool and sleep and leave. If ya ain’t stayin’ overnight, people are still welcome to use the facilities here, they just ain’t cheap so most truckers steer clear unless they need a shower somethin’ fierce and don’t have the time to stay overnight. You need an ID to rent so I usually bunk up in here. It’s not perfect but there are laundry machines and showers and I can work out.” McCree led him to the back with a hand on his lower back and to a row of laundry machines that sat along the back wall, looking to be in just as pristine as the rest of the workout room.

McCree opened the lid and dumped the contents of his bag in. he moved over to the detergent and swiped the white card again and took the soap. He dumped the small package into the wash as well. “These machines are usually very quick. We have just enough time to clean up and they will be done.” He pulled the shirt off his back and threw it in as well before working on his pants. He kicked off his boots and left them akimbo on the floor.

Hanzo sat back and watched without removing his own clothes, “You seem very comfortable here.”

Jesse shrugged, “It pays to be vigilant and know your surroundings. You gonna get naked or are you lookin’ for an invitation?”

“I am...enjoying the view,” Hanzo crossed his strong arms over his chest and looked him over. “You are quite a welcome sight, Jesse McCree.” He pulled back and sauntered towards the bathroom.

Jesse felt his chest flush red with the compliment. He ducked his head down and finished stripping, pulling the gaudy gold belt out of his pants and set it on top of the washer along with his wallet and keys. “So they have a dispenser in there of soaps and the whatnot. It’s not top of the line, but it’s enough to get cleaned.”

Jesse peaked up just in time to find the archer duck inside the shower stalls and close the door behind him. A trail of his clothes led the way. He let out a long, disappointed sigh and moved over, snatching them up. He frowned and looked down at the dust-covered garments. “Hanzo, did ya want me to wash anything?” He called out.

No response. The next moment he heard the unmistakable whine of the water pressure building. Hanzo brought his bad, but he doubted there was any change of clothing within, just his tablets and other electronics. Jesse frowned deeply and folded them up, setting them beside the full machine. These machines were great but slow. thirty minutes was the usual time needed until they could be switched over to dry. Since Hanzo had not brought anything else with him, he reasoned, he must have been all right to just keep wearing those.

Jesse felt an enormous sense of relief as he adjusted his own clothes in the washer. The smell of sex still clung to the fabric and left his mind in a haze. The Alpha’s scent lingered on his skin and made his flesh prickle with anticipation, but the idea of keeping his own natural scent so near, so obviously Omega in nature…

He could not bear the thought of others knowing what he truly was. Strangers judging him from afar, looking at him with disgust as they didn’t see the dainty figure of stories, but a meaty man with a spare tire of fat around the middle.

He slammed the lid shut with more force than he intended and rammed the button to have it start, glad to be rid of the scent and shame.

Jesse pushed open the glass door of the shower rooms labeled for Alpha use and felt the heat rise off his flesh. The scent of sex still clung faintly to him. Any Alpha in here would instantly know he didn’t belong. Luckily there was only one Alpha here. And doubly so, this Alpha seemed to enjoy not only his scent but his company.

Hanzo, who occupied the largest shower stall and left the door wide open so Jesse could see every part of his back muscles ripple as he worked the lather through his hair. Hanzo who’s legs muscles were thick. Jesse could see the steam rising up to dance along the ceiling. The sweat broke out because of the sudden humidity in this room. “Damn,” He called out, breathing deeply and moving into another unoccupied stall. “Are you trying to scald your skin off?”

Hanzo turned his hands in his inky black hair, working it into a lather. “It has been a while since I was allowed to indulge.” Hanzo closed his eyes and leaned into the spray of water. The dark hair clung to his scalp and shoulders, framing out his handsome features as the suds of soap dripped down along his skin, slipping between every divot where muscles connected and contracted as he moved to wash clean. That perfectly sculpted body, muscles tight everywhere and impossibly strong. The strong dragon on his arm seemed to radiate off his skin as his body turned a deep pink under the spray of the heated water…

Jesse’s eyes tried to turn away from the prize he truly wanted. He watched as Hanzo cleaned the most intimate parts of himself lewdly. It was as if McCree had not seen that part of Hanzo filled him so completely…

Jesse spun away and turned the knob to all the way to the left. He jabbed the console by the shower and heard the whirring of shampoo being dispensed. He poured a liberal amount of the soap into his hands and began to rub it into his dark hair angrily. His skin prickled under the biting cold pelt of water off his skin. It ached and throbbed, but his body did not feel quite so overwhelmed. He could control himself. What was it with this Alpha that drove him to act like a horny teen again?

“Do not punish yourself for what you crave,” Jesse leaped into the air and turned. He dropped the bottle of shampoo he had been holding. Hanzo was far closer than he should have been, leaning against the side of the stall with heated, blown eyes.

“Hanzo, what-”

“I could smell you. All the way across the room,” He stated.

Jesse’s eye traveled down, seeing the hardness stand at attention between Hanzo legs, he reached down and cupped himself. “You couldn’t have scented me that far away.” Jesse gulped at the predatory look in the other’s eye. It was impossible. And under water. The water was supposed to mask his scent. Maybe it was the heat of the water? Maybe the steam carried his scent over and he hadn’t made it to the cold shower in time.

Maybe Hanzo just had an insatiable appetite and was looking for an excuse.

“You smell of impudence and sex,” Hanzo smirked and moved into the shower. He reached behind Jesse and turned the knob. Suddenly a rush of heat swelled along his skin, though he could not tell which one made him feel hotter, the water of the man in front of him. He was still a good six inches shorter than him, but McCree felt powerless under his intense gaze. “I must admit, I am a little bitter that you no longer smell of me...I want to fix that.”

Jesse felt himself choke on the air in his lungs at those powerful words. He watched as Hanzo smoothly knelt down to his knees with all the grace of a prince. His hands slowly moving up, along McCree’s thighs to rest on his hips. No words came to his tongue as he watched in amazement as the water trickled down the other’s body while he did not seem to notice or care that it was now splashing against his face. “Fix that…” Jesse finally echoed, sounding far off in his head.

He did not expect the first cautious lick from root to tip before Hanzo sat forward on his heels. Jesse’s own shoulders fell back against the cool white tile as he watched the man kneeling in front of him lock him into place with a single stare. His tongue darted out again, outlining the shape of his hip bone down through the crevice of his thigh.

His cock sprang to life, already a dark, angry color as his blunt nails scratched against the porcelain tile behind him. He watched Hanzo’s quick tongue dart out to catch the droplet of water that clung to his head obscenely and flicked out again and again, lapping at the mushroom shaped head like a cat. Jesse whined, feeling slick start to trickle from his body. His legs spread slightly, wanting the Alpha in front of him to stuff him fully.

Those fingers never came.

Hanzo smirked and wrapped his long fingers around his cock and slowly began to pump him. “I cannot knot you here, Mr. McCree. That would be very….scandalous. Can you imagine if someone were to come in here? See me mount you in the middle of the floor and listen to you needy whines of pleasure?”

Jesse gave a whine, thrusting his hips forward into that waiting hand.

“Just like that,” Hanzo purred and rolled his tongue around the head. “That noise is mine and mine alone.” Hanzo opened his mouth wide and took in the tip, letting his tongue roll over the bulbous head. His mouth felt like heaven as he hollowed out his cheeks and began to slowly bob his head, only taking in an inch or two of his length. The rest of his shaft was tenderly pumped slowly. He watched the dragon tattoo slowly move, feeling the powerful arm. His mouth moved down just as the hand pumped up, sending mixed signals to his brain on which rhythm to focus on.

He clawed at the tile, trying to meet his thrusts. Hanzo’s other arm shot up and over his stomach, pinning him to the wall as he worked slowly. The water ran down Jesse’s body, cooling and heating him all at once as the stream of water hit Hanzo in the face. It was shameless to watch the Alpha on his knees, each pull of his mouth bringing Jesse further and further down his throat.

Jesse reached up over his head and pointed the spray away. It rolled down Hanzo’s back instead of in his face. He gripped the metal pipe above him as he watched Hanzo work so slowly as if he could spend all day between Jesse’s legs.

He whined as he felt Hanzo’s chin rest against his sack. He could feel the tickle of the facial hair and it sent shivers of pleasure through him. Hanzo’s nose buried deep in his chestnut colored locks. His dark eyes still upturned, looking at Jesse.

And he pulled off with a pop, dropping his cock still wet and glistening with his spit. “Tonight I will knot you again proper,” He promised, his voice thick and rich from holding Jesse so firmly in his mouth. “I feel like I am drowning in your scent.”

Jesse nodded in agreement, his hands flying into Hanzo’s drenched hair, pushing it back from his face. He silently begged for the other to take his length back into that magnificent heat. To suck him off until he came down the other’s throat. “Hanzo….baby…”

He shuttered in relief as Hanzo pulled him down again, into his waiting mouth all the way to the root. Hanzo’s hands gripped tight on his thigh and he groaned low.

Hanzo opened the back of his throat, pulling Jesse in deeper as the cowboy began to thrust into him at a feverish pace. He was unable to control how his hips snapped forward, pulling choking grunts from the man in front of him only to pull out so slowly until only his head was left in the other’s mouth. Jesse gave a bawdy moan as Hanzo’s tongue traced along his slit, licking away all the pre that gathered there, only to ram himself back down a second later.

It all came too quickly. He barely registered the tightening of his balls or the whiny moans that he made as his fists clenched tighter into Hanzo’s wet hair, pulling him onto his cock to meet each thrust half way. Everything was too much. His skin. His vision. His whole being overwhelmed him as he felt the first rope of thick, milky cum shoot down Hanzo’s waiting throat.

Jesse emptied himself fully, his vision blurred around the edges as his grip loosened. He came to on the floor of the shower, nearly bent in half as he sat cradled against Hanzo’s chest as the Alpha frantically pumped his own self to completion.

He should have been helpful and reached out to finish him off, he thought as the first strand of cum hit the white tile beneath them and quickly washed away in the hot water.

His eyelids felt heavy as he nestled in beside Hanzo, feeling those strong fingers travel up and down his spine as he sat content in his arms. He smiled and nuzzled.

“Did you come back to me?” He felt the bob of his Adam’s apple against the bridge of his nose as Hanzo spoke. McCree could just nod.

“That was spectacular...I should have helped you out, though,” He mumbled

“I think I prefer it this way,” Hanzo groaned and helped Jesse back up to his feet before pulling him back into his arms. “I fear that if you put your hands on me anymore, I will be forced to be indecent with you.”

Jesse hummed in reply, wrapping his arms loosely around the other’s center. “Can’t say I would have even tried to stop you. Not after a performance like that.”

He stood there, encompassed by the other’s natural heat as he slowly felt every piece of him float back into place. “I need to finish washing,” He mumbled slowly.

He felt Hanzo press the shampoo into his hand as the archer stood up and stepped back. “Don’t wash my scent off,” he smirked. “Or else I will be forced to put it back there.”

“That a promise?”

____________________

Hanzo stood in front of the small bathroom mirror, looking over his distinguished features. There were more wrinkles and lines around his eyes than he cared to think of. Without a doubt, he was getting on in years. The slight grey around his temples would soon be a full white, much like his father before him. He could picture clearly in his mind the noble way his father held himself, always looking regal and dignified without ever appearing old. Hanzo wondered faintly if he would age like that, or if he would be a permanent beauty like his mother. She was radiant in all regards, strong and independent, even though she was an Omega. She kept his father in place with only a commanding look. He could not recall a single grey hair on her illustrious brow. No wrinkle or blemish. Only the pure radiance that came with being the mate of the esteemed Sojiro Shimada.

He shook his head, breaking from his thoughts of the past as he lifted up the razor and went to work sculpting out his beard once again. He did not have much in the way of stubble, but he could feel it itch against his skin. He could feel the dirt under his nails and he just needed to feel human again.

Hanzo sighed contently, setting the razor back into his bag when he finished. The next step would be to work the lotion into his dry skin, paying particular attention to the scarred and sensitive skin around his prosthetics. It could not be a thorough job but the dry desert heat and sun sapped him of all the softness of his skin. Moisturizing was a must. Especially in the dry heat. Especially where his knees chafed from the dried sweat.

Hanzo frowned again at the streaks of white that wisped into his dark hair. When they were younger, Genji had always been compared to his father. He looked like him and (when Genji decided to act his age and not like a damned drunk fool) he even sounded like him while Hanzo always took towards the appearance of their mother. She was reserved and calculating. Her sharp eye missed nothing. Now though, Hanzo only saw his father reflected back at him, the scowl of disappointment in seeing his heir brought to shame.

It was better this way. The Shimada Clan was seated on a faulty foundation. Killing Genji had just been that final that caused everything to warp and crumble. Hanzo could see it so clearly now, all the signs of decent and greed that led to his and his brother’s demise. None of the old fools could see it that way though. Not even now. Not even when confronted with an arrow pointed down their nose.

The old ways were dead.

Satisfied he could continue on without discomfort, Hanzo dressed in the same clothes he wore in. Sitting in a truck with the air conditioner turned to high to accommodate the man next to him left him with little room to sweat, and that was fine with him.

He switched the laundry into the dryer, taking out a few choice items that should be hung to dry and started it up. Hanzo frowned as he laid out the faded and worn wool red blanket, letting his fingers run along the gold etchings along the border. He could see a faded pattern through it, though with years of machine washing and hard living, it seemed to have faded away. Old stains of blood were attempted to be washed out but were not treated in time. From a distance, though would hardly be noticeable.

He stepped back, suddenly overwhelmed with the awareness that he should not be here. He should not be this attentive to the garment that was not his and held such a high regard in its owner’s mind. He turned and walked out, grabbing his tablet along the way.

From the showers, he could still hear the water flowing and over that, the sound of the man inside whistling. He gripped the shoulder strap of his bag tighter and headed out. There was a message waiting for him.

Chapter Text

Jesse resisted the urge to awe as he saw the careful nature of all his things laid out neatly for him. Hanzo had straightened up his boots and it seemed he had scrubbed off some of the dirt that clung to the sides (of course the archer had been complained about how he deposited sand all through the inside of Jesse’s truck). He even had things laid out things to air dry that Jesse would have just tossed into the dryer to save time. But there they were, pinned carefully on a line and fluttering under the rush of cool air of the vents.

He pulled warm clothes out of the dryer and resisted the urge to just ball everything up and shove it back into the duffle without a second thought. But it felt wrong to do that. Especially since the other was so delicate with his things. Instead, he took the time to fold each piece and set it carefully inside, matching up garments and feeling all the more satisfied with the feeling of actually treating his stuff with care. And then dressed, pulling on his freshly cleaned boots and his favorite belt buckle.

He was not ashamed to admit that he spent more time than usual pampering and grooming himself after Hanzo left. On the one hand, he had to sit and regain his ability to stand without his legs shaking out from under him, so it made sense to groom himself while waiting.

But then he saw there was still minutes left on the dryer and common sense stated that he could not leave until he had fresh, dry clothes. So it only made sense for him to gather his toiletries and go about making himself look half as presentable as his companion. He trimmed up his beard and hair, taking him out of Jesus territory and back to looking back to his normal, sinfully handsome self.

He did a once over in the mirror and felt satisfied that he looked decent enough in his button-down white and red checkered button up shirt and dark brown slacks. None of this was to impress Hanzo or make the other continue to be affectionate with him. He simply wanted to still look as good with his clothes on.

The warmth of the dryer below the dryer line and the crisp, aridness of the air conditioner had mostly dried out his serape as well, though it was still slightly damp. The New Mexican heat would take care of the rest. He smiled as he wrapped it around his shoulders and felt the slightly heavy weight of damp wool. It was a comfort to wear it again, even if it only had been a few days.

He nabbed his hat and his bag after doing a final once over of the place. Satisfied he had not left anything behind, he headed out into the bright sunlight and towards the visitor’s center. They had seen the big sign that hung over the building advertising fresh sandwiches and homemade quality food from the restaurant. Eat first, gas second, provisions third, then they would be back on the road within the hour.

Step one of the plan was finished. Hanzo made sure his employer was thrown off their trail, at least for a while. He had requested for more information on Jesse as well. What he needed now was leverage. He needed to know why Hanzo had specifically been hired over every other assassin. It felt too coincidental. Everything about it felt too...coincidental.

Step two had been to find the safe house and step three was to kill the sonovabitch that set him up. Unfortunately, step two had been a bust and right now he stood in the middle of New Mexico, inside the cool visitor’s center of a Desert Highway Oasis. This whole adventure felt like a wild goose chase. That this damned signal would lead them far into the desert to some damn radio tower and leave them with no other clues. He would not change a moment of what happened so far. Well, maybe the assassination attempt, but at least the company was good.

Now he had to concern himself with how Hanzo connected to all this? He felt a pang deep in his chest and let out a long, drawn-out sigh. Deadlock was the obvious choice, being that this was their territory and they had quite the hardon for trying to off him. Somehow, one puny kid getting away and joining Overwatch was enough to have them believe he somehow was given more responsibilities while apart of the gang and knew more secrets than he actually did. Sure, over the years he had learned a lot of those secrets, but being a whelp of a kid?

Gabe never cared about his Deadlock knowledge really. He liked Jesse for his skill and the fact that his first reaction to meeting him was to headbutt Jack Morrison hard enough to break his nose then spit in Reyes’ face then squirm out of Reinhardt’s enormous hold. He was spunky and fearless. Reyes liked that. He refused to see that damned shrink and spit in his face. Reyes said his natural skill and willingness to learn were the sole reasons he was kept around. Plus, it angered enough of the higher-ups that the best kid on the team was some untrained, uneducated idiot from New Mexico who never even met his daddy.

None of this felt like Deadlock though. It was too calculated. There were too many variables wrong.

There were still plenty of people from Overwatch that still hated him, even after all these years. He came in with no background and pedigree and yet he was still capable of outperforming them at every move. He could out think them, outgun them, and out charm them all. It was why he was given to Reyes’ pet project, Blackwatch. There were plenty there who blamed him for Reyes and Morrison’s falling out. He was the catalyst apparently since Gabe doted on him and Jack seemed to barely register he was alive.

But why would the Strike Commander care about a punk kid that was sent away on missions? He doubted Morrison remembered most of the recruits names. Unless they were a part of his own specialized team, why would he remember the other seven hundred people working under him?

Blackwatch, his brain whispered. It was the only choice that made the most sense. Deadlock would not have cared that much about him to hire someone so...fortunate. Overwatch itself seemed likely. Someone from that part of his past hating him enough to want him dead did not seem far-fetched at all, but again, why Hanzo?

Blackwatch though…

The inclusion of Hanzo in on this only solidified his notion. He left Blackwatch with more than just a few scathing reports. That was before the incident in the Swiss Headquarters. He had been sent on increasingly difficult missions. He had been forced to put down perps that would have made other agents break down and lose their minds.

And Overwatch allowed it, as long as he was never caught. He coped as best he could, at the bottom of a bottle of whiskey. Others were not as easily cured. The incidents seemed to weigh more heavily on him with each returned mission. Sad looks and sunken shoulders. Quiet disagreements with Commander Morrison in his office soon turned to all-out brawls in the corridors.

It was then that he decided to leave. His term was only for five years, then his record would be expunged. He could walk away as a normal citizen with zero hits on his record. Before, he could not imagine a time without Overwatch. But Ana dying and Morrison and Gabe fighting all the time...it just became too much. He left.

They both left.

The simple solution to Hanzo’s involvement was Genji. Genji, who had now crossed his mind more in the past week then he had since he decided to drop off the face of the earth )or if his last correspondence could be trusted, on top of it in the Himalayas). But Genji Shimada was dead and buried. Genji Shimada did not exist. In Overwatch, he was simply Genji the Cyborg who came to them in a body bag and was assembled using the best of science and medicine. Genji who kept to himself and did not open up to anyone those first few months after being released from the ICU. Genji who was a relative unknown in Overwatch. Sure, everyone knew the brooding, angry cyborg. He was impossible to miss. But his actual backstory? His truth? Only a select handful knew. Most of whom were dead.

Genji vowed when he left to do no more harm. Anger raged within him. He needed peace. His last letter told of his continual want to learn to forgive his brother, despite everything. But still, his anger was volatile. It was pent up inside of him like a volcano and Hanzo killing Jesse would set the cyborg on a warpath no one would be able to stop.

Reversely, Jesse killing his traitorous brother would have the similar effect. His hatred of Hanzo was legendary back in the day, but when asked about exacting revenge, Genji would never answer to the affirmative. Despite everything, he still held out hope that his brother would want him back. Jesse promised never to go after him. He promised to never hunt Hanzo for any reason.

He felt his insides quake at the thought. He had to put it from his mind. Hanzo Shimada was a top-class assassin. His name was revered in circles that only whispered things in the dark. It was a long shot, he knew, but he could not let his mind wander the other way.

He stepped into the restaurant and found it delightfully empty. It was nice to not have the burden of worry thrust upon him when all he wanted was to enjoy a meal that didn’t come out of a can. Hanzo sat in the back corner, furthest from the exits and windows, his back to the wall and his tablet propped up on his hands. His expression looked grim, but then, the archer usually had a sour look about him. Jesse straightened his serape and moved over, sliding into the booth. “Order yet?”

“I received information,” His voice was cold. Collected. Jesse felt ice travel down his spine as those dark eyes looked up to meet him with a pointed stare. “You weren’t Overwatch.” It was an accusation.

Jesse pulled the hat slowly off his head and set it on the table. It was best not to lie when you were obviously caught. “No. I was not. I was a part of Blackwatch. We handled Overwatch’s dirty business they didn’t want on the books.”

“I know what Blackwatch is,” Hanzo set the tablet on the table and slid it over with the tips of his fingers. Jesse dared not look down. He dared not see what it was Hanzo was showing him. But the silence lingered between them until his eyes fluttered down to the document.

Staring up at him from the dark blue screen was a simple list. Fifteen….twenty different names assignments he had been posted at during various times of his employment. Each one was etched into his memory. Times when Blackwatch failed. Times when they should never have gotten involved and were caught. All of it...every last bit of it damning evidence to support his evil intentions.

How could anyone trust a man that watched a hospital burn to the ground? Or worse, was the reason it burned in the first place. How could anyone trust the reputation of a man who spent six months openly working in trafficking human lives? Or someone who had been reprimanded for killing a child?

But he knew that wasn’t what gave Hanzo that expression as if someone walked over his grave. No. His eye lingered on the sixth name down, the one that should not have been there in the first place. The one that had been expunged from every record book. The one that, officially, never existed in the first place.

Operation: Sparrow.

Jesse linked his fingers together and pressed it against his mouth, hiding the deep frown as he read over that name, again and again, trying to affirm what that document would say before looking back to Hanzo. Hanzo had read the file, obviously. He had to have read it and reread it until he had memorized every line of it. And now he looked for Jesse’s explanation of events.

Jesse itched to know what was inside that file that should never have existed. Back in the day, it was filled with his progress reports. Genji had to be evaluated multiple times on multiple levels. He had given information on every enemy of the Shimada Empire. He had informed them on every member of the Shimada household. Hundred and hundreds of pages and reports. Over a year’s worth of reports that should have been deleted the moment Genji Shimada died.

He needed to know what it said.

“Whaddya wanna know?”

“Everything.”

“Everything is quite a bit, darlin’. Try narrowin’ it down a smidge.” He sat back against the red vinyl seat and tried to relax completely. He had to tighten the focus. He had to figure out what Hanzo knew.

“Everything,” Hanzo stated again. He did not flinch or lean forward. He did not move an inch. It terrified Jesse with how much of a gargoyle the man in front of him appeared and how cold his eyes could become.

He took a deep breath and started talking. From the beginning.

“Operation: Sparrow was completely redacted from all records,” Jesse started off, leaning forward and placing his folded hands on the table in front of him as Hanzo pulled the tablet back into his hands, placing it between them like a shield. “Obviously that didn’t happen, but my guess is that your little file there said as much. No one outside of a select few even knew that Operation: Sparrow existed.”

He looked over at the stone-faced man. “It started when the lead director of the Tokyo branch of Overwatch came into his office one morning and found sitting behind his desk the younger heir to the Shimada Empire. He then began to demand things from the Director. He demanded to speak to the head commanding officer of Overwatch. He claimed to have relevant information that it needed to be heard. The Tokyo director tried to...persuade the young yakuza member to-”

“Use his name,” Hanzo interrupted. “Do not think I am some fool who did not know what was going on under my empire’s nose. Say his name.” There was venom there, a threat of violence that Jesse had not heard, even in that first meeting. Hanzo’s quiet fury pierced across the table in his tense, thin lips.

He swallowed around the numbness that spread over his mind and nodded. “The Tokyo director tried to persuade Genji Shimada to speak, but….Genji demanded to only talk to a person in charge of Overwatch. Overwatch had a policy of not talking to or making deals with criminals on the basis that it did not look good for business. Genji was-” He looked up and saw Hanzo bristle, his shoulders tensing and his fists clenched tight. He was being too familiar. Too much of a friend. He corrected himself. “Shimada was told that unless he had something relevant, that they wouldn’t listen to some punk kid.”

“Why was Genji there?” Hanzo asked.

“Chinese drug ring,” He answered, just like he had back in the day when Reyes would debrief him. Direct and to the point. “They were using a harbor and essentially zeroing in on Shimada territory. We went in and busted it up, thinking that would be the end of it. Shimada appeared to want us to take care of some of his dirty work and we played into his hand. We stopped one drug ring, but unless Japan wanted to get us involved with internal country affairs, we weren’t looking hard at...your group...going in and taking that harbor over. We thought that would be the end of it.

“But he came back. Again and again, giving Overwatch these little morsels of crime and each time stating he had something bigger, but would only talk to Jack Morrison or Ana Amari. Eventually, Reyes showed up personally and interrogated him-”

“Get to your involvement,” Hanzo snapped, his voice a light growl. “How were you involved?”

“I was his handler,” Jesse stated. “Everyone else stood and walked and talked like a trained soldier. Gen--Shimada,” he corrected himself, “Shimada would frequent clubs and bars. He indulged in less than reputable….activities.”

“I am well aware of my brother’s predilection for hookers and blow, do not sugarcoat things.”

“Well trained soldiers look like trained soldiers when they are surrounded by mountains of cocaine and mostly naked omnics. Shimada seemed to revel in the chaos that happened when his handlers were made. I was brought in because of...I looked young,” He looked down and frowned. “I looked like a punk kid. I had a Deadlock Rebels tattoo and was not afraid to...get my hands dirty, as it were. I could play off getting high and passing out. Nothin’ in his clubs ever shocked me or made me waver much. I...became Shimada’s favorite punching bag. I spent the better part of two years livin’ in Tokyo and trying to keep that kid from ODing on my watch. In return, he gave us information on other organizations.”

“Why were you pulled from Genji’s case?”

“We had a total mission failure. I wasn’t needed in Japan anymore,” He stated cooling, watching as Hanzo’s jaw clenched and unclenched. It was the politest way he could say that Genji had been brutally murdered and there was no reason to keep the file open.

The archer gave a slight nod.

Jesse sat back once again and looked away from the man across from him, instead focusing on the sports game playing from the mounted television. It had been a hard night, learning from a second-hand source what transpired at Shimada Castle. It had been an even bigger shock when he returned home and found the green haired ninja in a tube of medical fluid.

“You were aware of who I was then that first night,” Hanzo stated.

“I knew you were Yakuza. I assumed you were Shimada Clan. I didn’t piece together who you were until you said your name. But yeah, I know who you are and what you’ve done.” Hell, all their earliest reports on the Shimada family were penned by McCree personally. Genji supplied, Jesse, transcribed.

“Did you not wish to kill me?”

Jesse shrugged, “A little at first. But on my top ten people, I wanna put a bullet in? You ranked…” He frowned and paused, taking his time to look him over. “Sixth, maybe seventh.” He was surprised at how truthful it was. “I was never in the revenge game. Too many hands get involved and revenge never ends. But if someone paid me to shoot you? Hell yeah, you got a pretty bounty on your head and it would set me up nicely.” He smiled over at him. He wanted to break this tension that suddenly separated them like a wall. It was not like he lied to Hanzo. He never deceived him or purposely hurt him but…

But...

“And now?” Hanzo asked, his shoulders dropped a fraction. Suddenly, the dark circles under his eyes seemed more pronounced. He looked...exhausted.

“Nine,” Jesse shrugged. “Solid nine. Still would shoot you if they paid me enough and I gotta keep the bounty on yer pretty head without sharin’ with anyone.” He winked. “But, damn, I sure would feel mighty sad about it.”

Hanzo huffed out a puff of air he took as a laugh and sat back, his shoulders sinking further down. “I am suddenly…” He placed both his hands on the countertop and pushed away. He wobbled as he stood as if his legs would not support him properly now. Jesse understood that kind of shock. To have the past violently pulled back out and to be forced to live once again in that darkness. Hanzo picking up his small bag and tablet. “I will resupply the truck.”

He turned and fled the diner without another word. He left Jesse to sit alone in the silence.

Chapter Text

It should not have been a shock to hear that Genji was supplying Overwatch with information related to the clan.  It should not have felt any different than it did that day nearly a decade ago when he was brought behind the closed counsel doors and told what needed to be done.  

It was after their father’s death.  Hanzo spent the night, sitting in his father’s room and tending to his father’s funeral arrangements while Genji avoided his responsibilities.  Genji had been late to the funeral the next day, still hungover with drugs still rampant in his system and surrounded by those that partied with him all through the night.  Hanzo had been disgusted…

He had been jealous…

Genji sat there, enveloped in the arms of many people. He openly grieved.

It looked so hysterical. It felt so...cathartic.

Instead, Hanzo sat in his traditional attire, greeting guests and for all purposes looking just like the leader he had been groomed to become.  He was not allocated to cry. He had to be punctual, orthodox and reserved. He had to be everything the elders were looking for. The opposite of everything Genji took so freely and without a second thought.

That night he went to the elder’s chamber. Already, he had been brought into the fold, as it were.  He had been groomed his whole life for this moment, and then it was upon him. Sojiro always had a softer spot in his heart for his youngest child.  He had pampered the boy to the point of dereliction. And now, with the untimely death of the Shimada-gumi, someone needed to step up and put down all traitors to the family.

He remembered the harsh murmurs through the room.  It was the Alpha’s job to take care of his clan. His father and grandfather had both stepped up when the time was needed.  It was now Hanzo’s turn to prove he could lead. He would stop at nothing to protect the clan and his true family. Blood did not matter.

He was more than aware that the Shanghai Triads had being overtaken by Overwatch. His assumption was that Genji had a role in the whole ordeal. The younger heir swaggered around the castle and practically bragged about his deeds in front of the whole council. Genji acted the fool while his father had been alive and made enemies of all the clan elders. Overwatch had just been the final push they needed to decide he was a danger.

How serendipitous it was now. Here he was, seated directly next, and in the truck of,  the agent that was supposed to protect him and failed.

No.

McCree was just another soldier who was following orders. His job was to protect Overwatch first, and his source second.  He did not hold the blade that sliced Genji in half. He was not the one to watch the deep red blood pool out, forever staining the tatami mats of the main hall. He didn’t have to watch the lights dim in those scared brown eyes as he choking on his own blood-

“Mighty bad headspace you are putting yourself in,” McCree’s voice was soft and low, but almost sounded like a scream.  Hanzo threw himself further back into the seat, wrenched back into the present.

McCree was in the driver’s seat of the beat-up red pickup truck.  He was turned in the seat, staring at him with those large, whiskey-colored eyes. Hanzo ran a hand down his face, feeling the tacky sweat and clammy skin.  He hadn’t even started the vehicle yet, instead, he sat and watched as Hanzo fell headfirst into that black void.

The world slowed its tilted spin and Hanzo looked out the window to the large desert oasis store.  They still were seated in the parking lot. Nothing had moved. Nothing had changed.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Hanzo dropped his hands that now trembled in his lap.  He turned to the side mirror and looked at the pale greyness of his lips and face.  “I-” His voice cracked. He could not remember getting back to the truck or climbing in.  He could not remember much after listening to McCree speak in the diner and seeing again the vision of Genji. Genji laying in that pool of his own viscus blood, coagulating on the floor How he was forced to mop-

A warm hand on his knee shot him back to reality for a second time, holding him firmly down while he listened to the soft, deep rumble of the cowboy next to him. This was absurd. He was an assassin. The heir to the largest criminal empire in Japan. And he was seated in the middle of the desert with an honest to god Cowboy. An Omega, no less, that looked and acted more like an Alpha and...His foot tapped loudly on the floorboard. He forced it to stop.

“You don’t gotta say a word. I...I know I wasn’t totally honest with you,” Jesse’s words filtered into his brain and Hanzo slowly released the breath he hadn’t realized he had been holding through his nose and then, slowly inhaled. He needed to even out his breath.  

“I always knew Genji was not loyal. I had proof. But to hear it from a primary source…” He trailed away and looked down.  “To hear it from...”

“Let it out, I won’t judge.”

Hanzo could picture the interrogations with Genji clear in his mind’s eye. The sterile office of Overwatch that he had seen in the news, the clean, white lines with the desktop interfacing.  The lacquered, shiny aesthetic of the walls and floors that were meant to look professional and clean, but came off always as cold and hollow.

And Genji, with his vivid green hair, slouched over in one of the chairs... No... he would have been in the commander’s chair. With his feet propped up on the desk to show his pristine white sneakers. He would have gone in after a night of intense partying. His eyes, bloodshot and hidden behind a pair of neon sunglasses. His clothes barely covering him and everything else covered in body glitter. He would reek of stale alcohol and vomit.

Genji’s mission in life was to infuriate every last authority figure.  He would have found the most expensive item in the room and lazily tossed it in the air while he spoke. A nonchalant threat. It was their father’s favorite tactic, to appear threatening without ever saying a word.  Genji had mastered his own lackadaisical approach, as always. Father loved that about him…

Hanzo jolted out of his thoughts again, the image of Genji’s vanishing like a ghost from him. Jesse’s hand was still on his knees and moved in slow circles. The thumb brushing against the ridge where his bionic legs met flesh. He could hear him speaking, his voice a low, soft rumble in his ears.  Hanzo took another slow breath in and released. “Please keep driving.” He said as confidently as he was able.

“You sure you are ready?” Jesse asked, his hand never moving as he turned the ignition over. The truck roared to life and Hanzo felt his memories falling back into the recesses his mind. He needed to focus. There was a task at hand.  He had a job to do.

The Omega next to him should not be there.  An Omega should never have been put in charge of his brother. It was Overwatch’s fault that his brother and empire were both torn away from him...

But Jesse had been so strong...if he had been there that night. If he had followed Genji home that night maybe...

Maybe…

He felt all his confidence drain from him to the floor and down into the paved road beneath the truck as Jesse merged back onto the road. It left him feeling so...empty.  Slowly, he closed his eyes and rested his forehead against the warm window, trying to keep his stomach from lurching forward. Everything felt so...wrong.

__________

Complete silence dominated the inside of the truck. He could hear every last piston turn in the engine and was sure he could hear the grind of metal on metal as it shifted gears.  Several times he had tried to start up a light conversation; favorite movies and the weather. Whether or not they should try and find a place to rest for awhile until Hanzo got his head on straight.  

The glassy-eyed look was all he got in return.  He was alert, that was for sure. Aware of every little thing Jesse tried to touch or grab for, but unresponsive.  He would grunt in the way of answers and frown deeply at every joke and quip he made.

Instead of talking, Jesse took to chewing on the end of a pen to keep his damned mouth closed.  He needed something between his teeth, something he could bite and chew on to keep him from speaking out and saying the exact wrong thing again.  Hanzo already had the look of a man who was run over by a speeding train, he did not need anymore.

Hanzo had always been a taboo subject in Overwatch, especially around Genji. His breadth of knowledge on the elder Shimada boy was limited to what Genji was willing to submit.  Stories of Hanzo were always filled with the dutiful son, the sun, and moon of the Shimada Empire. Hanzo presented as an Alpha early on. He was strong and loyal to a fault, but they had high hopes for him.  After he presented, they had little need for Genji to learn the same skills, so the heirs were trained together, but Hanzo was pushed further. Hanzo was ruthless and merciless. He showed no fear or revulsion in slaughtering his own kin.

After a few drinks though in the darkness of night, other stories of Hanzo would come to light, whispered in hushed tones. Almost as if Genji feared he would be heard by the man himself.  Stories of a brother who had a quick wit and a silver tongue. The brother that demanded perfection in the daytime, would then sneak his brother candies at night. Brothers that were torn apart long before duty demanded Hanzo slaughter his brother.

That was always what it was to Genji. Duty killed him. A terrible burden. Before, Jesse could never understand the cold, unfeeling way Genji described his own death as if it were a chore that Hanzo had to fulfill.  

Jesse though always saw Honor as the stripper who was trying to pay her way through nursing school. It was a concept that teachers in school talked about but didn’t really exist, like Truth and Justice.  Never would he feel sympathy for someone so evil as Hanzo Shimada.

Jesse felt the pang deep in his chest.  He felt the sorrow drip off Hanzo like a slow pouring rain that chilled you to the bone.  the cold watery drench that clings to your skin and numbs you so completely. It made him ache.  He wanted to punch the steering wheel. He wanted to swear and bite down hard enough on the end of the pen so it broke in two. He wanted to scream and rant and wail.  He wanted to ease his Alpha’s suffering.

But he couldn’t. There was nothing he could say to ease the tension. He had to wait and let the other stew in his thoughts. He had to let the other just...wait it out.

Hanzo was supposed to kill him and then move on.  Assassins rarely stop a moment and talk to their targets, so their meeting was not planned to go the way it did.  Hell, he doubted very much their employer would be thrilled to learn that not twenty-four hours later his assassin bedded his target as well.  

The question of why Hanzo stopped still dragged along the side of his mind.  He still expected to get a knife to the throat with a comment that Hanzo was aware of his past dealings with his brother and that he even blamed Genji getting caught by the clan as his doing.  This was not the way it was supposed to go through. The Hanzo from the stories would have never shut down like this and looked so...melancholy.

Hanzo had been in the dark.  

Why didn’t his employer tell him straight off that Jesse had been involved in Genji’s insurgency?  It would have made sense, slide him the file and haphazardly mention Jesse McCree was the Overwatch agent responsible for Genji. It would have been a direct link. It Jesse had been in that situation, he wouldn’t have flinched at the prospect of sniping the man that destroyed his family.

“I believe,” Hanzo’s raspy voice pulled Jesse right out of his thoughts.  He turned and looked again to Hanzo, who was still peering out the window to the side. “That whoever hired me was a member of your organization.”

“I’ve been thinkin’ that myself,” Jesse agreed.  Blackwatch was the most obvious candidate. Those files. Those redacted files were the last straw for him.  Hanzo being directly involved, it made even more sense. Someone he knew from before wanted to hurt him. They wanted to hurt Genji.

“It has been nearly a decade since....” He swallowed.  “My employer wanted me to kill you but felt I lacked incentive.  Giving me that file for you that mentioned...his name. It was meant to light a fire in me, I believe.  He understands me well enough to know that Genji is still a trigger.”

Jesse nodded. “Was thinkin’ that too….so why ain’t ya trying to off me?”

Hanzo gave a weak shrug and settled his back against the seat. He pressed the heels of his boots against the glove compartment and nearly folded himself in half. Jesse watched as he played with the tablet in his hand, frowning slightly at the screen.  Suddenly, he looked less like the thirty-five-year-old master assassin he was, and more like a lost child. “Because I am still the one that raised the blade. Genji sought you out, not the other way around. I have killed countless men for lesser charges than what my brother did. If I were still in the clan, I would have killed you as a message to your employer...but that would be fruitless now. I have nothing to gain in your death.”

Jesse nodded slowly with Hanzo words. “If he led with the fact I was former Overwatch when you first took the job. If you knew right then I had a connection with your brother, would you have killed me?”

“Swifty,” Hanzo stated. “Without thought. I would have sat on a building opposite and shot you in the face with no hesitation. I would have revealed in the fact that I killed the man that killed my brother.”  Hanzo looked over to Jesse. “You would have done the same, I assume?”

Jesse chewed the pen harder. It was as if the man just read his mind.  “Shot you with zero question.”

Hanzo nodded again, thumping the back of his head against the seat of the truck.  “Even now, my instincts are to slash your throat and be angry for the misery your people have caused me. Instead, I feel more anger to the man that paid me.  I am used to dealing with secrets and lies. I am used to being the instrument that others use for murder. I don’t like being purposely deceived and used as a tool.”

Jesse let out a chuckle, relaxing a fraction in the revelation that Hanzo would not be slitting his throat just yet.  “You know, just last week I would have called you a massive tool.”

“I am not, nor will I ever be a tool,” Hanzo sat back up straight. His mask of dignity and honor sliding right back into place. The walls resurrected slowly, cutting off the emotions he felt within and his outward appearance.  “I am an instrument. I have been carefully crafted implement used for precise, detailed work. I have a specific use and I have a specific purpose. A tool is a blunt instrument that carries out a function. It is neither elegant nor refined. A tool is exploited.”

“Fine, fine, yer a damn tuba. Tell me where to go.”

That haughty smile returned over his features. Jesse relaxed more, though he could still feel that lingering sadness clinging to Hanzo like a coat.  “I will have you know, I am more like...a piano. Or a violin. Beautiful and appreciated.” Hanzo’s eyes moved down to the tablet now in his hand. “Go left, into the desert. The signal is weakening.”

Jesse turned the car and looked over to Hanzo once again as the smooth journey suddenly turned bumpy.  He seemed to bounce right back, sinking deeper into the seat and concentrating more on the tablet in front of him.  “So if you are a violin,” Jesse started. “What does that make me? Bagpipes?”

“Why on earth would you consider yourself bagpipes?”

“I’ve heard complaints that I blow hot air,” Jesse looked over to the man next to him and watched as his face contorted. Hanzo quickly covered his mouth and snorted loudly. “What?!” He demanded.

Hanzo snorted louder, covering it with both hands as his hidden laughter trembled through his body.  

“Oh hell,”  Jesse groaned. He reached over and smacked his thigh hard.  “Blowin’ hot air don’t mean I’m gassy!”

The long snort followed as Hanzo bent in half, wheezing loudly as the laughter poured out of him.  Jesse grabbed his hat and whopped him several times for good measure as he felt the smile split across his face as well. “Hanzo Shimada, you are a world-class Yakuza crime boss! You listen to boring ass classical music and National Public Radio! Your clothes are tailor-made! You do not laugh at fart jokes!”

Hanzo rocked back up, wiping the tears from his eyes as his wheezing laughter subsided slowly. It was the most damned beautiful sight he had ever seen. “Keep going left,” Hanzo pointed out towards the desert.  “The signal is getting stronger.”

“Damned idiot, laughing over nothing but my flatulence. It’s gross. You’re gross.” Jesse grumbled and shook his head in mock disdain.  “Yer lucky yer so damn beautiful or I might just leave you out here.”

Hanzo let out what could only be described as a giggle as he began to chat about the mathematical principles that went into creating a tracking device for wireless power generating. He went into the history of the technology, how it started small, little disc powering stations for things like tablets and phones and progressively grew as omnics became more and more present in workplaces and homes.

For his part, Jesse nodded and hummed in interest without listening to a word. He listened instead to the strained vocal register that Hanzo used, the tightness to his words and the careful construction of his sentence.   It was a carefully crafted skill to appear less frightened and worried then he actually was. But he was talking again. He spoke with the sincerity of a man who understood how things worked.

Jesse let his mind wandered again, back to thoughts of the past. How difficult would it have been for a former black ops officer to dig into Genji’s past and realize that Cyborg Genji and Shimada Genji were one and the same?  Hell, it took Jesse less than a week to connect the two. In the years that they worked together, Jesse watched the man regain his confidence and his life. In the process, he had built up a high number of enemies. Any number of them could be responsible. Not everyone in Blackwatch was thrilled he had joined.  A cyborg just showed up and then was a part of Reyes’ personal squad. Jesse at least had the benefit of being the runt of Deadlock that Reyes took a shine to. Genji was...just there one day.

Jesse worked best sorting out his thoughts verbally, but it was not like he could not tell Hanzo anything.  To him, Genji was dead and gone, a ghost of a memory that would never return. Bringing into the conversation the realization that Genji was alive, well, and living in the Himalayas with an order of religious omnic monks (and an all-around better person for it) probably would not go over well.

And it was still Genji’s choice to remain in the shadows. If he was not ready to have Hanzo back in his life and it was not Jesse’s right to thrust that upon him.  Genji may never want his brother back in his life, and that was still Genji’s choice.

Where did that leave him and Hanzo? Surely a home built on lies would fall over but-was the omission of the truth really a lie?

He shook his head of those thoughts.  Hanzo was a coworker at this point. Sure, one that smelled like sunshine and sakura blossoms on the breeze and one that made him wish to crawl into his skin and exist there for awhile, but still. Nothing more. They were nothing more than the casual fling on a romantic night in the back of his truck. And a hot screw in the shower. Not mates. Not nothing.

Jesse removed the pen from his mouth and frowned at the deep chew marks he implanted in the cheap plastic.  His jaw had begun to ache as he chewed harder and harder. Hanzo, it seemed hadn’t noticed at all. He continued to direct him further into the barren desert. He was sure at this point he hit either a national park or the rez.  Hanzo had turned the topic into the implications of taking away free wireless energy and the effects it had on omnic rights. Jesse was more than fine with following orders and listening to him speak if it gave Hanzo a sense of purpose again.

Mentally, he needed to sort through the hundreds of former members. Most people could be ignored right away. The person would need access to the old files, to begin with, or have knowledge on how to break into those old files. Jack and Ana were dead.   Lena, Torb, and Rein would never stoop to hurt Genji or himself. The inner circle of Overwatch Heros was safe. Angie was the same way. She spent too much time patching them up to now want them dead. All of them were too much of heroes at heart.

It made his list easier.  Blackwatch agents were the only ones left. He could start with the ones that were aware of Genji and who he was.  Most agents had gone back to their respected countries after the fall. They had joined up with their own countries black-ops teams.  Most were dead by now, some in prison. But very few thought of Genji as more than just a cyborg that Overwatch developed. Jesse himself started the long-standing rumor that Genji was just a mild-mannered college student until an Air Conditioning unit fell off a building and crushed him.  The government rebuilt him after.

That left the list of Blackwatch members small.  Nine, maybe ten names total.

Genji himself was easy to cross off.  The Ninja would have come after Jesse himself if he got that itch to kill.

Reyes could be cross off as well. Dead men don’t hold grudges.

O’Deorain was never interested in revenge, even back then. She was far too interested in picking Genji apart at the seams to see how he worked and would never have to lose that opportunity to study him. And she barely knew Jesse’s name, instead, she would just call him 'boy'. This was mostly his fault for referring to her as the Phantom of the Laboratory. She was evil and the devil herself, but never vengeful.

He could also cross himself off that list unless he went on one crazy depressive bender he couldn’t remember.

That alone narrowed the list down to...six?

Keats was in jail in Thailand for drug running, but could probably hire outside help…no...he was stabbed twice in the face a few months back…Five...

He drummed his fingers slowly, bringing the pen back to his mouth to chew on the end some more.

There was that one…what was his name? Sheer….beer…? He could picture the dark man so clearly in his mind, seated behind a desk and frowning down at Jesse as if he were an insignificant-

“You are agitated,” Hanzo hummed.  “I apologize. I did not mean to make you so.”

“Ain’t you,” Jesse let out a huff of air the thoughts flying out of his head and into the chasm of his mind.  “Genji….Shimada’s file just had me thinkin’ who could have been the one to send it out.”

“You stated it was redacted?”

“Redacted and burned to the ground.  Overwatch was already in hot water with Japan’s government for not clearing some of the raids Genji helped set up. They wanted to make sure there wasn’t a clear paper trail right back to the main officers of Overwatch,” It wasn’t a complete lie. He could live in half-truths.

“Genji’s death was heralded as a-”

“Drug overdose,” He finished.  “I remember reading about it in the paper. The last injustice, you know?  Make him go out as undignified as possible.”

“Being put down like a dog because he would not comply with orders is undignified,” Hanzo stated.  “Genji dying surrounded by beautiful women and men would have been his preferred way to go.”

Jesse quirked an eyebrow and looked over at the man next to him at that. Was it possible Hanzo set that article up? He opened his mouth, ready to tell him how Genji clipped that article out of the paper and had it in his bunk. It was his favorite thing, the paragraphs describing him beautifully laid out in a club, surrounded by men, women and omnics alike.  To him, it was a romantic death. He lavished the thought of seven beauties waking up to find him peacefully gone in a haze of ecstasy and opioids.

Hanzo seemed more relaxed now.  

“He was such a little shit.” Jesse snorted and shook his head.  “See, when Genji came to us, he knew he wasn’t a prisoner or nothin’, he called himself an ‘informed citizen’,” Jesse threw up air quotes and rolled his eyes.  “He was a damned little bastard. He gave us just enough to keep us salivatin’ for more, then pulled the rug right out from under us.” He looked over to Hanzo. The sadness remained with none of the anger.

“See, for months that little snot-faced punk would stroll inta the office and drop a bomb about some giant drug deal that was going on and then give us nothing more to go on, so I would have to tell the boss all about this major event, millions of dollars worth of some product going through some port somewhere in Asia and that some criminal organization would be meeting to negotiate something .” He groaned and made a show of rolling his eyes. “And I was always made to look the idiot.”

He heard a snort from the other as Hanzo buried himself in the tablet.  “I have no idea what you speak of. Genji was always so very forthcoming of his intel. I would never have guessed he would send anyone on a frivolous endeavor.”  The dark sarcasm rolls off his tongue naturally. He opened his mouth to speak again, only to have the tablet in his hand begin to vibrate and beep. Hanzo’s attention turned back to the device in his hands and the large, vibrating dot on the screen “We are getting close.”

Chapter Text

In the distance, the Manzano Mountains loomed against the horizon in a deep green haze. The first time he was able to appreciate their beauty was back his first year in Deadlock. He was barely out of being a pup himself when he was loaded into a flatbed and sent south. He had seen the more touristy side of nature before but never had he seen nature looking so...vast.

Deadlock wasn’t the type of organization to stop and appreciate the beauty of the natural world. But Jesse could. Seeing them in all their majesty was the first time in his life he ever felt the sudden aching that came with realizing just how small and short a human life was.

The beeping of the machine had intensified over the past hour to the point where Hanzo muted it. There was no doubt in his mind that they were close. Soon there would be some answers. Another piece of the puzzle put into place. Maybe even some answers. If everything went well, maybe he could convince the archer next to him to take a detour over to the mountains, see the sights and look at more stars. Maybe even show him some of his favorite camping spots.

He shivered at the thought.

The poor sleeping conditions had done a number on his body. Besides spending more time in the back of different vehicles and sleeping in unnatural places over the past several days, it didn’t seem to bother him much with the company he was keeping. He wanted to curl up in the back of his truck with those strong arms around him and light, fluttery kisses at his neck…

Jesse slowly turned the truck as Hanzo directed him to drive south-east. They had abandoned traditional roads and instead found what looked to be either an old coyote trail or a dirt road. Whatever it was, the desert sought to reclaim it. And the trail followed alongside it. Many trails around here used to be roads leading to houses and farms. Deadlock utilized some of those old paths, though most of them were abandoned after the Omnic Crisis.

Tourism dried up the moment war broke out and it ended up killing more than just the resorts and casinos. People feared to be isolated and moved closer to the big cities. Communities died, even more, when the droughts hit and turned the dry ranch land to dust. The already impoverished land was left unattended.

He slowed the truck further and watched for anything that looked like a solar panel or a power generator. The wireless energy was good and all for powering devices, but it still needed those wires to travel. It needed a central hub to store and charge.

“Could this damned thing be cloaked and invisible?” He grumbled and shifted in the seat.

“This is not Star Trek,” Hanzo smirked and looked over at him. “Cloaking technology only works for short bursts and only on small objects. The technology is not advanced enough to sustain long-term use. And, of course, the distortion it would cause would-”

“Got it,” Jesse stated, holding up a hand and smirked. “I don’t think I can listen to another lecture on the principles of whatever device doing something scientific and advanced. I am perfectly okay with thinking everything runs on magic.”

“Jesse, there is a very distinct difference between the properties of magic and science,” Jesse realized that Hanzo had a distinct tone when he was playing. His meticulously trimmed eyebrows would shoot up high on his forehead as he gave Jesse a slow speech as if he were a child. There was also the slight uptick to the corners of his mouth that seemed like a whisper of a smile.

“I’ve decided that when I get a chance to update your file I am adding ‘Math Nerd’ and ‘Geek’ to your list of traits.” Jesse teased. “All that before ‘Master Assassin’ and ‘Yakuza Boss’. The first thing it will read when anyone gets ahold of it is ‘Math Nerd’.”

Hanzo went on as if he had not heard the insult. “If you would like, I can show you some magic later and explain the variation-”

“And ‘Street Magician’,” He smirked. “Shimada-comma-Hanzo. Street Magician. Math Nerd. Star Trek Lore Expert. Oh, and be careful around him as well. He can make you look like a damn porcupine. Still a nerd, though.”

Hanzo snorted. “You forgot incredibly good looking and an expert lover.”

“Humble! I forgot to add humble. Totally not vain or conceited.”

Hanzo snorted again and Jesse felt his insides flutter. “You are nothing but a dangerous flirt, Mr. McCree.”

“Dangerous flirt is what the top of my file says,” Jesse let out a loud groan and rolled his shoulders, hearing a loud pop in the process. “Where is this damn thing?” He leaned forward in the driver’s seat, his back protesting the motion. He had been sitting too long. “If we don’t find this soon I am going to leap out of this truck and walk there.”

“It must be close,” Hanzo shook his head. “Please do not leap from the car.”

Jesse sighed and looked out the side window, trying to find a place to pause and regroup. A place out of the sun. Small hills rolled in the distance, catching his eye and hypnotizing him. He felt his eyes unfocus, blurring the scenery and making the world soften into a haze of browns and greens and blue sky.

And then it shimmered.

Almost like a mirage in the desert heat, he saw the world warble around the edges. He stopped the truck, ignoring Hanzo’s inquiries to why and watched.

In the distance, one...maybe two miles away he could see it, almost blending into the background scenery of the area, an old, abandoned ranch nestled in among the rolling hills. The siding was the exact shade of the dirt, though it may have been white or grey at some point. The desert landscape saw it painted its own yellowy brown earth color. Surrounding it were three other decrepit buildings, the walls leaning in on themselves and threatening to blow over with one good push from mother nature. And it warbled in the light, almost flickering out of his line of sight as he watched it. “There,” He pointed. “This place ain’t right.”

Hanzo peered out quietly as Jesse turned the truck and drove towards it slowly as if expecting it to evaporate away. He slowly nodded as if he understood anything Jesse stated, “I have visited a farm once. They allowed me and my brother hold sheep. We were five.”

“I spent a summer working on a ranch. I was undercover for Overwatch, sure, but this seems an odd setup. The land is not good for grazing and the horse ranches that prosper out here were always touristy places. You know, ride horses up the side of the mountain and feel like a real cowboy,” Jesse stated. “These buildings are not appropriate sizes either. You could hold maybe three or four head in the barn there, maybe a few horses in the other. That silo is too small to hold and collect enough water-” he frowned and stopped the truck at the house warbled again. It was almost like it was the surface of the water and it rippled and moved just so. “This is the hub. This ain’t any farm or ranch or nothin’.”

Jesse turned and slowly crept the vehicle up to the house cautiously. The house appeared abandoned. There were no car tracks or footprints that he could see. His eyes never leaving the homestead in front of him. The house was too big. The barns were too small. From the deserted road, anyone traveling this way would not stop to notice. It was just another forgotten home in a sea of dirt and sand.

The house distorted again. It trembled in the wind.

“There is a barrier,” Hanzo whispered as they stepped out of the truck. He reached back and grabbed a knife while Jesse strapped Peacekeeper to his waist. Appearing abandoned and actually being abandoned were two very different ideas. “You can see the poles around the property.”

Sure enough, small poles, about a foot in height stuck out of the ground at six-foot intervals, surrounding the house and the buildings around it. An invisible fence meant to keep intruders out and alarms up.

Deadlock utilized fences like this all the time around weapon caches. It was meant to tempt intruders to come into their territory. Some dumb kid would see a stack of guns and ammo in the middle of the campsite and go to grab it and get zapped. Or it would set off an alarm and within minutes the dumb bastard would be surrounded by angry Alphas itching for a fight. It was an asshole Alpha technique to cause riots and keep that Alpha scent high. If it was one thing Deadlock was an expert in, it was keeping Alphas agitated and angry.

It set his hackles up.

As they approached the barrier Hanzo knelt down and lifted up a handful of dirt. He tossed it in a spray and watched the fence vibrated and hummed at the contact. “It appears to be just over two meters tall...maybe two and a half,” he observed.

“What d’ya think it’s here for? I mean, besides the obvious.”

“It does not appear to be electric,” Hanzo stood and brushed his hands off on his pants. “At least not to the dirt.”

Jesse pointed back to his truck, “There are beef sticks in the glove box. Those trigger electric fences.”

Hanzo sneered. “You keep processed meat sticks in your glove box just to stick into electrified fences?”

“Naw, Darlin, I keep them in there as a snack,” He laughed as the disgusted look the other gave as he moved to his truck and came back with a piece of jerky in his hand. He slipped the end of the beef stick through the fence and watched for any displacement in the meat. “It does not seem to be electrified at all.”

“So an intruder alarm then?

“My guess, we walk through that, we will be surrounded in a matter of minutes.”

“I would say hours,” Hanzo frowned and turned the stick of meat in his fingers, looking for any noticeable singeing and found none. “We are too far away from anything substantial. My guess is this is here to alert if a safe house has been compromised.”

“Take it you know that from experience?”

“Portable ones are not very effective but can trigger when something passes through the line. I have been saved once or twice because of them. Mine is very sensitive as well, it goes off with the smallest trespasser. This is...permanent.” He stated. “My guess is this has settings up as well to protect the safe house from intruders.”

Jesse nodded and chewed on the inside of his lip. “So what happens if we just walk through? We would set off an alarm, walk in, look around and leave before anyone gets here.”

“Or the house could be rigged to explode. I have done that before. It kept assassins for finding my cache and it gave me peace of mind when I was not there.”

Jesse frowned, “We walk through that barrier and the house goes boom.”

“We break in and it goes boom,” Hanzo repeated, staring up at the decrepit yellowed building. “At least that is what I would do if I knew I would be far away. There should be a way to deactivate it, though my guess is it would be inside the house.” He grew quiet and looked around. Jesse could see the gears shifting and turning inside his brain as he looked to the truck, then back to the house. “Drive closer I can-”

“You ain’t ninjaing your way into the house only to have it blow up when you accidentally trip a wire. Ain’t happening,” Jesse smirked and walked towards the truck anyway. “And you ain’t using yer little hoof feet on the hood of my pristine baby here and putting scratch marks into her nice paint job.”

“I-”

Jesse pointed at his clawlike boots. “No. Not on my paint job.” He swore and turned back to his truck, throwing down the tailgate. “Damn ninjas always tryin’ ta make my life more difficult. Ya ain’t vaulting off my truck.” He pointed at Hanzo and frowned as he grabbed a small, purple bag from the back and moved over.

Hanzo raised both his hands and stepped away as the cowboy advanced. “Then what is your plan for getting into the house.”

“Ya wanna see some McCree magic?” He reached into the bag and carefully extracted one, small silver and violet sphere and held it out for the other to see. “See, you ain’t the only one with cool little gadgets. This here cost me quite the pretty penny, but it has been so worth it.” He rolled it in his fingers, letting the sun glint off the neon purple skull motif etched into the front.

“This is the latest EMP technology ill-gotten money can buy. Bought it from an...acquaintance,” He tossed it up into the air and caught it all while smirking at Hanzo. “By my reckoning, this house has been functioning for a while without human contact. There ain’t no tire tracks around the place. And there ain’t no life around here, so this place is abandoned but still pristine, yeah?” He didn’t even wait for Hanzo to acknowledge him. Instead, he continued, showing off his own skills. Hanzo rolled his shoulders back and cocked his head to the side, obviously interested. “So it goes with reason that power fluctuations happen. Birds, rabbits, Coyotes; they all pass through this fence without getting anyone’s panties in a ruffle, so it must be set up to take those little fluctuations into account. This is wild country. Hell, I bet mountain lions can come and go as they please.”

“EMPs are not animals, McCree. If you set that off, someone will notice the place is without power. It will make someone suspicious,” Hanzo frowned. “It will shut down everything electronic in the radius as well. That includes frying your truck’s engine.”

“A regular EMP would do just that. And shut off my arm and your legs. Not good at all.” He shook his head and twirled the device playfully between his fingers. “This one is a small, custom job. Meant to fizzle it out without looking like a hacker is getting into your system. Power fluxes happen. Especially in places like this. That is all the system will register.”

“So we get in, then what?”

“My guess is whoever is running this beast thinks that fence is enough protection. All you’ll get out here is Deadlock idiots and maybe Los Muertos. Both groups wouldn’t stop here. It’s a dead place. We get past that and we are golden.”

“You seem overly confident in your skills, McCree.”

“Says the man that wanted to act like a goddamned gazelle and leap over the fence using my truck,” He smirked. “Go grab your things. Get Look, stand back near my truck, get your things. This this is weak, but it will take out your chicken legs.”

Hanzo shook his head and headed back to the truck. “When you blow up the house and knock out your arm, you will owe me a drink.”

Jesse reached into the truck and pulled out his lone bag, slinging it over his shoulder. He had his gear and his gun, that was all he needed now. “I will buy you a fruity little drink. One that has a tiny umbrella in it. And it will be pink.”

“My brother told tales of American drinks that come in fishbowls. I require one of those. And two tiny umbrellas. I like things in pairs.”

“Got it, bottles of straight rum and vodka in a dirty ass fishbowl and two,” he held up his fingers. “Tinyass umbrellas.” He kept behind the truck. “The radius of the EMP is about, oh, twenty feet, give or take. It booms out quick, we get in, everything is back online in five minutes tops. It is a blip in the system and no one will look. Just make sure you are back here.”

“You speak from experience?”

He nodded, “When testing one of these things, I got in range and it shorted out my arm. You know that feeling you get when you sleep on your arm or leg or something and it all goes tingly and numb. It’s like that but lasts for five minutes then it tingles and you taste metal for the next several hours.”

Hanzo stepped back without another word, crossing his arms over his chest. He waited. Jesse took a deep breath. He bought them from a guy who swore he knew a guy who was a part of Sombra...or something. Mostly he just hoped he hadn’t been swindled again.

He crossed himself and pressed the left eye of the skull. The EMP glowed to life and he hurled it over the fence, watching it plop hard in the dirt with only one small bounce.

Then nothing.

Jesse waited. He refused to look over at Hanzo. Refused to see that smug look that would be followed by what would be an ‘I told you so’ speech. He sighed. “So, Genji was working with Overwatch, yeah?”

Hanzo slowly looked over at him and hummed an affirmative. “Yes, I am aware of my brother’s traitorous past.”

“So that little shit would never give me a straight answer. It was always coded and underhanded and I told him that just once I needed a break, or else they would relocate me. That he wouldn’t get me following him around to different clubs and drug dens and the whatnot.”

“So how did my brother screw you over?” Hanzo asked just as the device puffed, pulling the cello case over his back and grunted.

Jesse felt the tingle through his cybernetic arm that made him grunt. Though he never lost full feeling, it was still greatly uncomfortable. “Come on,” He grabbed his bag and took off to the house. If there was a security system watching, it would be disabled for now too. The fence no longer warbled in the light, though he could see the edges tingle where the EMP device had not reached. He moved swiftly, heading right to the front door and looked around.

Hanzo lagged behind him, keeping close down to the ground. He reached across and snatched the remains of the EMP and stuffed it into his pocket. There was a slight limp in his step. Jesse flexed his bionic hand and sighed. The tingling sensation lingered.

“How 'you holding up there?” He reached into his hat and pulled out his small lock picking device as he heard Hanzo slink up behind him.

“I am perfectly fine, McCree,” Hanzo growled. “Hurry up and get us inside before the fence is back online.”

“So back to my story,” He smirked over his shoulder and saw the roll of Hanzo’s eyes. “This one time Genji comes waltzing into the office and states that he has the mother of all cases. Something that would really put me on the map and set me apart from all the other flunkies. It is the first time he ever told me something without sending me on this wild goose chase or yankin’ me around. I was so damn proud I went right into my CO’s office and proudly tell him everything,” The door clicked. He smirked.

“So what happened?” Hanzo chuckled. “How did Genji screw you over?”

“So I tell my boss about this big old poker game going down in Montenegro. See, he said he got word that a financer for lots of terrorist groups had a bit of a gambling problem. Of course, my plan of action is to send in the best damn poker player Overwatch has, find this terrorist and bring him in,” Jesse let out a loud sigh and looked back as he popped the lock on the door and slowly it swung in. “Turns out it was the damn plot of a James Bond novel. Reyes knew right after the first sentence and let me blab on like a damned fool.” He pulled Peacekeeper and looked back and saw the slight smirk on Hanzo’s face as he pushed the door open further.

Fluorescent lights flickered to life at the slight movement, starting in the long, white hallway and reverberated through the wide rooms at either side. He turned slightly and looked at the man beside him before he shrugged and tentatively stepped inside the house.

“This ain’t what I was expectin’,” Jesse mumbled as he crept along, leading with Peacekeeper into the first room. His hard steps echoed with each tentative step as moved into the first room.

Wasn’t expecting was an understatement. He expected a house slowly being reclaimed by the elements. He expected something not quite so...white.

Crisp, white walls paired with white tiles flowed from room to room. The curtains were drawn tight on all the windows, but the artificial lights did well enough to keep everything bright and clean.

Clinical.

Everything looked far too staged. Magazines were spread on the coffee table in the living room, under a blue rug and white matching rug in front of a plush couch. Long stemmed silver candlesticks sat on either side end tables in matching positions. It looked like his great grandmother’s house; pretty to look at but not to use. That woman needed everything pristine, in case the good company was coming over. Everything needed to look like a model home, less the neighbors started to talk.

It was hell, trying to live even a moment in that house. Too many rules. Too many regulations that made her appear better off than she actually was. It felt cold and unfeeling. A model home.

The whole house felt that way, each room just as clinical and uniform. It was a place to be seen and not lived in.

Hanzo carefully opened a kitchen cupboard and peered inside, finding nothing. No food or rations, not plates or silverware. Every cupboard was bare and every closet empty. Apart from the fence outside, there were no other security devices. He could not find a control panel or anything besides a control panel for the robotic cleaning services.

“This is strange,” Hanzo finally stated once the bottom floor had been searched. He set his cello case down on the counter and looked over to Jesse. “No one has been here in months, if not years, and yet it still runs as efficiently as if the family is on vacation.”

Jesse hummed in agreement, setting his gear bag down. “There should be a central hub somewhere that controls everything electronic. We could disable the fence and check out the barns next. How’d you know it’s been years?”

“The cleaning bots,” He stated and motioned over to the hall closet where the small cleaning bots were stored. “There is a mechanical log on every device used. The sweeping and cleaning bots are set to perform their duties at nine every morning unless they have been canceled or redirected. They have not been delayed or redirected once in over three years.”

There had been no other sign the house was defended besides that looming, invisible fence. It was true, the cleaning bots seemed to be on a well-worn path of cleaning without interruption. While Hanzo set up his gadgets and gear, Jesse looked at all the dishwasher’s log and saw not a single glass had been cleaned in nearly half a decade. His inspection of the hall’s cleaning bots showed the meticulous schedule of leaving at nine in the morning and returning to their crate by nine thirty.

He headed into the bathroom and turned on the faucets, finding warm, running water. Electricity and water both still worked. He waited and tested the temperature and felt the water go from lukewarm to scalding. It was all in working order. He frowned and headed out. It was like whoever owned this place would walk back in at any moment.

“McCree,” Hanzo stepped into the hall, his hand on the doorframe. “I ran a quick scan and found no one else here. Unless Omnics are hiding upstairs, it is possible that we are alone.”

Jesse wiped his wet hands off and looked at the back door. All the windows curtains were drawn tight, keeping the privacy of the house blocked off. “I doubt there has been anyone here in a long time.

“It is growing late and this place seems secure,” Hanzo continued. “We could spend the evening continuing to search every cupboard and wall for hidden compartments or we could-”

“And there is real furniture here,” Jesse agreed quickly. “I could deal with a decent, shower and a good night’s rest.”

He stood still, looking across the small space to the other man. He felt a tightness in his throat as the other stood there so still. Worry wormed itself into his brain. Had he overstepped his intention?

Hanzo took a tentative step forward. Then another. He could feel the heat radiating off the other’s body as strong arms encircled his waist and pulled him in close.This was new ground, Jesse realized. He had, in the past had casual flings. Trysts in the night and weekends filled with another person were common enough. He was not a good long-term lover. He could not sustain a relationship for longer than a few days before growing bored of the other and running along.

Hanzo though, with his strong arms around his waist and holding onto him like a vice, felt different. He felt his own arms wrap around the archer’s shoulders and held him close. It was intimate without being sexual. Something he never expected before. “I didn’t hear you complaining about the shower earlier,” Hanzo’s words sounded confident, though he did not look him in the eye.

Jesse leaned his weight on the shorter man, smirking to himself as he pressed his lips against the crown of the other’s head. It felt right to be this close like his soul was at ease. “I weren’t complaining about you bein’ in that shower. I was talkin’ ‘bout that damn water pressure.”

“It was atrocious,” Hanzo leaned up and pressed his lips against Jesse’s neck, leaving a hot trail in their wake. “We could maybe...repeat last night...and earlier today…” His voice trailed away as his arms tightened, pulling his body closer. It did not feel like an invitation for more. It felt more like a lifeline like he needed to feel his presence here and know he was secure.

“I think that can be arranged,” Jesse felt himself flush at the contact and leaned into the embrace. His fingers trailed slowly down his spine, feeling the bumps and ridges along the way before settling on his hips. Never had he had anyone hold him so close before. It felt nice to be wanted. “Lemme scope out the upper level and meet me in the master bedroom in say….ten minutes? I wanna make sure the bed is right.”

“Make it thirty,” Hanzo nuzzled against his neck, letting the scruff scratch against his skin. Jesse shivered and leaned further into the contact. He found himself craving this contact. Needing to feel this man’s warmth and closeness. “I want to scramble the signal and send another message to my employer. I believe I may be closing in on my target. He should know I have him in my sights.”

Jesse tilted his head and caught his lips in a simple kiss. His eyes fluttered closed and he leaned further in, his hands moving slowly back up his spine to cup the back of his head. Simple, sweet kisses. Nothing more. Feeling their breath mingle and combine together. His scent mixing with the others. Secure. “Tell ‘em you found a source on one of my hangouts. I’m in Sante Fe, but have been spotted at a dive bar.”

Hanzo chuckled and nuzzled against his neck before pulling away. “You should be easy to catch if you are blackout drunk.” He slowly pulled away, his hands lingering on his sides as he planted one final kiss on his lips before pulling away.

Jesse felt the smile break apart on his face as he backed up to the stairs, his eyes set on the archer’s retreating back as he moved back into the kitchen. Hanzo was absolutely beautiful, he realized. Breathtakingly, classically beautiful. Especially when he sat focused, no anger or tenseness over his strong features, but a careful resolve that left his features more...tender.

He turned and stomped his way up the stairs. There was no need to sneak around like a black operative anymore. With the amount of noise he already created downstairs, anything that could be hiding already knew of his presence. If they continued to hide now, they wouldn’t dare attack.

The upstairs was closed off. A bathroom sat just at the top of the stairs. It was small, with just a simple sink, toilet and standing shower. It was rather small. He frowned and flicked off the light, heading to the left side bedroom and pushing his way into the room. He expected to see more of the model home quality from below. What he didn’t expect was the bare boarded floor. No carpet or hardwood. Nothing but the bare base of a room. Three sets of bunks sat against each of the walls, with military-style trunks at the foot of each bunk. He flicked the light on and found the single bulb overhead flicked on. The room smelled musty, closed off. It was as if the bots downstairs were told to not come up this way to clean, especially with the thick layer of dust that spread over everything.

He closed the door and moved down the hall slowly, towards the master. He pushed the door open slowly and slowly entered. This room had five sets of bunk beds spaced out in rows with more trunks at the ends of the beds. Each one loomed, painted in standard gunmetal grey. This….felt more like what he was used to back on base.

Jesse backed out into the hall. This whole setup felt too familiar. The model home downstairs, the camouflaged exterior, the upstairs looking more uniform and regulatory. He turned and looked up, finding the small rope that would lead into the attic space. He pulled it down and the ladder came crashing down loudly.

“Everything all right up there?” Hanzo called up from the base of the stairs.

“Just checkin’ out the attic,” He called back. His felt his palm sweat as he gripped the wood of the rungs and pulled himself up. Blood pumped between his ears as he headed into the pitch black space above. He had flashbacks to when he was in uniform, coming to houses that looked very similar to this one. Houses that had been stocked full of rations and other supplies. Above everything would sit the brain of the house.

He pulled himself all the way into the dark and stale attic and swallowed, feeling around for some sort of pull string for the lights. If there was a central computer, it would exist here. Solar Panels would easily attach to the room and supply the house with plenty of energy to help power not only this but the other surrounding safehouses.

His metal fingers caught the side of something hard and large. Solid. A blue glow illuminated his face as a boot screen chimed on.

What-”

“Welcome,” A familiar, mechanical voice sounded out from the machinery, slow and methodical. “Please state your name and service ID number,”

A cold chill went down his back at the calm, familiar voice as the screen slowly dissolved into a familiar ‘A’ logo. She continued without missing a beat. “If you fail to comply, the authorities will be notified. You have five minutes to comply.”

The voice echoed through the house, he could hear it in the hall and down the stairs. Jesse turned and looked around the now dimly lit room. Large servers filled every last corner of the small space, now whirring back to life and into existence.

“Please state your name and service ID number,” the computer repeated, counting down the time. The lights dimmed slightly as the house conserved its energy, ready to emit a signal of alert to every active Overwatch base. Which was none. There were no active Overwatch bases anymore. Overwatch didn’t exist.

But here was Athena, or at least, an older version of Athena, speaking out to him like a ghost from the past.

Jesse gulped and looked down the ladder as Hanzo shot up the stairs, his eyes wide. “What did you do?!” The archer hissed, peering up at him from below.

“Nothin’! I just-”

“State your name and service ID number,” Athena said with more force.

He turned on heel and looked right at the screen. “Agent McCree, Jesse,” He spoke loud and clear. The ID number slipped over his tongue easily, as if it hadn’t been nearly a decade from using it. As if nothing had changed since Switzerland. “Overwatch ID number M-8022590962.”

The computer went quiet and the lights flickered back into place. “Welcome, Agent McCree. The last contact was ten years, four months and fifteen days ago. Would you like a report of the situation?”

Jesse looked down to Hanzo before turning back. He was still in the system. Jack hadn’t deleted him. “Yes, Ma’am. Full report. To my tablet.”

Chapter Text

“Full report downloaded to your tablet, Agent McCree,” Athena hummed, “Is there anything else you require from me?”

“No, Athena. Thank ya kindly,”  Jesse paced back and forth, across the kitchen.  He made a path along the perimeter of the center table where Hanzo sat, frowning.  

“A request, Agent McCree,” Athena stated.  “I detect unauthorized technology not recommended by Overwatch officials on the main floor. It is scrambling my signal and making it difficult for me to try and contact the Los Angeles Headquarters.”

“The tech is authorized by me. I am the highest ranking officer here and I’m in charge of this operation.”

The AI hummed. If she had a physical form, he could guess she would be side eyeing Hanzo with complete, unwavering distrust.  He wondered briefly how good her systems were with the lack of updates and the total isolation from the main system. Athena was meant to connect all Overwatch bases and safehouses.  The protocol was also to uplink every base with the mainframe the moment they entered and updated Athena’s systems, otherwise the main computer was completely useless on a mission.

This was a backup program.  She was not meant to do more than basic functions and request to be updated.  There was nothing to update her with though. The main computer had to have been shut down by now. Or relocated to some office building in London where she was assigned now to make coffee and file reports.  

“Go offline, Athena. I’ll call ya if I need ya,” He ran a hand over his mouth, pulling slightly at his beard to center himself again.  This was an Overwatch safehouse. It shouldn’t surprise him at all. Everything felt so regulatory and familiar.

He took another deep breath and continued on his path.

Hanzo’s eyes never left him.  He watched McCree’s fast pace with the trained eye of a man that waited for an attack. “Is she gone?” He asked.

McCree shrugged.  “I asked her to go, but she really don’t trust you none. She has knowledge of me in the system, but I am still only Agent McCree to her. She don’t think of me as anyone that has led any missions or taken anything. Athena is a huge system, so when she is updated in these smaller bases, usually it is just the need to know information.”

“She is a fairly useless AI if she cannot stay up to date with every agent in every base,” Hanzo looked over.

“Athena usually traveled with us. She would upload needed information into the local version of herself. There ain’t no mainframe anymore. I don’t know what would happen to her if I even tried connecting her up.”

Hanzo nodded and looked down.  “You need to settle.” He stated.  “Your anger is palpable. I can taste the bitterness.”

“I need to settle?”  Jesse turned on heel, his spurs jangled as he stomped over to the table, thought better of it and turned, walking to the covered window. It would be dark by now. He wanted to go out. Get to a walk. Clear his head.  

Athena would not drop the fence without higher authorization. The nights could be dangerous and the security measures need to stay in place.

“Settle,” Hanzo stated firmly, looking up at the other. It was a demand. An order.

“Or what,” Jesse spat out. “You gonna be the big Alpha and put me back in my place? I ain’t allowed to be frustrated? Only you are allowed? I have the right to feel this way!”

“Did I say that?” Hanzo pushed the chair back and stood, moving over. “I meant you need to clear your head. You are useless while this worked up.”

Jesse snarled and moved away. “How I am is how I am. Deal with it.”

Hanzo took a deep breath and stepped back. The turmoil in the other was unsettling. Hanzo could feel it roll off the other in waves. Hanzo wanted to bite back. He wanted to snarl and bare his teeth at the cowboy, set him in his place and show him who was in charge.  He wanted to scream at him that he was not the only one challenged today. That he needed to think clearly. It took everything for him to not. He swallowed and closed his eyes. “How can I help?” He asked in a tone much calmer than he felt inside.

Jesse leaned against the counter and dropped his head.  “I ain’t some simpering Omega.”

“I did not say that. You keep glancing at the doors and windows. I do not want you fleeing into the night without processing what is going on.”

“I ain’t runnin’ away,” Jesse snarled, baring his teeth to the other.  “I just am pissed that everything leads back to this damn place. I was done with Overwatch. I left it behind. Why won't it leave me as well?”

“You were already aware that your old organization was involved.  We spoke about that at length.” Hanzo said, stepping closer to Jesse.  

“Confirmation don’t make it any easier,” He growled and looked down. His teeth gritted hard as his hands clenched at the sides of the counter. He heard it groan under his metal hand, threatening to pop and break.  “I just wanna take a walk--and before you say anythin’ I know that there is a fence out there and I can’t go out without accidentally tripping the alarm. I got that.”

Hanzo stood in front of him, arms crossed over his wide chest.  “So you need to expel energy.” It was a statement. “How do you wish to do this?”

Jesse rolled his shoulders. He could feel the heat radiating off his skin. He swallowed at the dryness that appeared in his throat.  He knew what he craved. What his body demanded that he never indulged. And with this man in front of him, and his wall of scent that spoke of nothing but pure Alpha, Jesse did not want to deny that part of his biology…

His shoulders dropped and he shook his head as a strong hand moved up to cup his cheek and forced him to look Hanzo in his deep, dark eyes.  “Tell me what you need,” Hanzo stated again, a softness to his voice. “No judgment.”

Jesse leaned into the cool palm and let his eyes flutter closed.  “I need…” He needed a heat. A good, long heat cycle where he could drop into a bed and nest. He could pull an Alpha to him and demand to be pampered and loved. He could scratch that deep itch inside him that just a knot could not settle.

In his pocket, he still had those little white pills.  A fake heat, for sure, but a heat. He leaned against the counter.  “I wanna be treated…” He swallowed back the words. Hanzo’s thumb brushed against his cheek slowly before moving back, into his hair and pulled him closer.  “I want a heat.” He mumbled and leaned against him. “I wanna good long heat and have you on me and in me and around me….”

“Did this trigger your heat?” Hanzo asked, his slow stroke of his hair pausing as Jesse nuzzled against his neck.

“No, but I have a way I can get a small one started,” This house was safe.  No one had been here in a while. Even the men that wanted him dead wouldn’t be looking for him here. And Hanzo scent was thick and wild. “Been wanting to share a heat with you for a while now. Just feels nice. Feels right. Wanted to heat you that first night. Could smell you in the halls and in that room and wanted to just present right there.”

“I--,” Hanzo’s hand continued its path in his hair.  “Would not be opposed to that.” he stepped back and stroked lightly against his jaw again, tangling his fingers into the thick beard. He kissed against his cheekbones.  “We could try repeating that first night?”

Jesse chuckled.  “No stabbing me.”

Hanzo smirked. “Oh, I plan on impaling you, McCree. And you will be more than willing.”

____________

There was something wildly inappropriate about what they were doing, and it only set his blood more on fire.  Jesse stood in the bathroom and leaned against the sink with his eyes closed. He found Birdy’s pills in his pocket still where he left them.  They went down easily enough with some water and now he was just waiting for them to kick in.

It was stupid, he knew. This whole thing was stupid. The whole situation he put himself in was stupid.  But McCree was not known for being a particularly wise man. He spent his life so far relying on his instincts and his cleverness and right now, both were screaming at him to get back to that Alpha outside and have his way with him.

Already he could feel the effects pouring through his veins. His skin felt constricted in his clothes. Sweat dripped down the back of his neck. And his bones felt like they would vibrate out of his skin.  He could smell Hanzo from here too. His sent calmer than before, less acidic and more...sweet. He rolled his shoulders one final time and looked in the mirror.

Roguish. Disheveled. Unkempt.  

Every inch of him did not look the correct part of the dutiful Omega.  He wore thick jeans and a light flannel shirt. He was strong and shaggy. He was too wide in the shoulders and middle. Too big in his hands. Too wide.  And yet Hanzo, the most beautiful man God ever gave him the grace to meet, wanted him.

Jesse pushed himself away from the sink and headed out towards the living room, where he knew Hanzo would be waiting for him.  At this point, he would track down the scent of any Alpha and present. But Hanzo…

He licked his lips and stepped into the room, finding Hanzo seated in a high back chair.  The scene looked familiar. He smirked. Hanzo had cleaned up the room, pushing all the furniture into the dining room and leaving the space open wide. The chair where he was seated was the only thing left, save a pile of folded blankets against the wall, with several of the bottles of water and protein bars.  

Jesse felt his insides ache at the tenderness that the small gesture had.  He could not remember the last time an Alpha left him with supplies to keep him comfortable during a heat.  

Hanzo’s eyes were trained on the book in front of him, one that was from the end coffee table, he recognized.   He purposely ignored Jesse, allowing the gunslinger to make the first move. This was his fantasy, he realized. Hanzo was just acting out the part.

He didn’t want that though.  Jesse leaned against the wall and smirked.  “I heard you were lookin’ for something a little different.”

Hanzo’s eyes shot up, his eyes wide as he spotted Jesse.  He did say he wanted a retry on that first night, somehow, it felt fitting. To pretend and restart. “And what was it that I was looking for?” He asked, throwing the book to the side. He slowly rose to his feet and stepped forward.

A smirk played on his lips as he felt his brain haze over with those words.  “Hopefully me,” He pushed away and sauntered over, meeting the archer halfway into the room and looked him over.

Hanzo had changed clothes. He wore the button up white shirt from before with black slacks and dark suit coat.  Again, he looked every bit the Yakuza boss Jesse knew he was. It set his heart ablaze. His hands settled on Jesse’s middle, slowly untucking the button up shirt he wore.

“So do I get something to call you, or do you prefer just Alpha?” Jesse smirked. “Cause I would like something to call out in the throws of passion.”

The man’s strong hands rolled up from his chest up to his shoulders and down to his biceps. He gave his arms a hard squeeze. Jesse could not help but flex in his grasp, “Hanzo will be sufficient,” He finally stated. His voice had grown huskier as his hand squeezed down on the muscle. Apparently, Jesse had been satisfactory to his tastes.  

Jesse felt emboldened. He raised his own hands up and traced his fingertips along Hanzo’s strong stomach, feeling the muscles flutter under the thin fabric. Jesse’s cock twitched in response as he slowly followed the line of his sharp hip bones to his sides. “Well, Hanzo, I take it I meet your standards.”

A smirk played on Hanzo’s lips.  “For now,” His voice came out almost like a purr as he looked up into Jesse’s eyes. “You were informed of want I wanted?”

Jesse stepped into the other man’s space and lifted his chin with his hand. “I heard you wanted someone like me.” He smirked and leaned down, barely brushing the other’s lips with his before pulling back completely. Hanzo leaned forward, chasing after his affections.  It took all his remaining self-control to not just lean in and give himself over to this man. His body ached to be stretched and filled and bred.

The scent of Alpha was crushing. It radiated off of this man in a tidal wave. Jesse wanted to be swept away.  Jesse had done well with holding back his wants and needs. Somehow, he had not stripped himself down and presented himself to this man on hand and knees, ass high in the air and begging to be stuffed.

The synthetic heat was true to its purpose. He could feel the effects more thoroughly the closer he got to this man, but it still did not feel like a true heat. It was not all consuming.

Unlike those dark eyes.

Hanzo chuckled and looped his fingers into the leather of Jesse’s belt and pulled him in closer and teased his lips with his own. There was no final press forward, just the ghost of lips. The threat of a kiss as he spoke.  “Tell me, Jesse, how would you feel if I were to completely wreck you?”

“Depends,” Jesse began to work at the buttons of Hanzo’s white button up, starting at the bottom. He wanted to get his hands on that skin. Bury his nose in that scent and live there for days. He wanted to run his own fingers over this Adonis-like body and bruise.

“On what?” Came the haggard reply.  Good. He was losing his mind just as much as Jesse felt.  Hanzo’s fingers tightened in his belt loops and pulled him closer until their hips were flush. He gave no further pressure. No friction. The heat from Hanzo’s body radiating out. Jesse could feel it, even through his layer of denim.

Maybe it was his own heat he felt and nothing more.

Jesse’s hands trembled as he worked at the buttons, only managing to undo about three. He abandoned the task, to instead run his hands up to the man’s shoulders and under the black coat. He slipped it from the other’s shoulders and watched as it pooled onto the floor. Hanzo’s arms were impressive and his shirt was thin. He could see the unmistakable line of blue that surrounded his arm and up to his chest under that fabric. His eyes followed that line from his wrist upwards, trying to make out the detail.  

The shirt was entirely too tight for a man his size. And too cheap to belong to a man that owned a suit that was tailored to fit every crevice of his body. This man still reeked of power and excess.

The shirt was inferior.

Jesse smirked wickedly and caught his eyes. He grabbed two fistfuls of the shirt and pulled, scattering buttons everywhere in the wake of the destroyed garment.  Hanzo let out a gasp of surprise and released his belt. His face contorted to a snarl and for a microsecond, Jesse felt like he pushed too far. He rather liked the wild look in the other’s face.

Then he caught Hanzo’s eyes again and watched as they hazed over even more. This was a game for dominance, and Hanzo was willing to play. Hanzo wanted a challenger, and equal.

Jesse smirked wickedly as he sank to his knees. Show a little submission, just enough to get him hot and bothered. Teeter on that line of appropriateness.  

His body screamed out. His mouth watered. Unabashed, Jesse leaned in and buried his face in the other man’s stomach and inhaled. The scent of the Alpha was becoming more intense. It washed over his being and calmed the beast within him. Jesse let his lips move slowly across the taut muscles, his tongue darting out to taste the salty sweet sweat that shone on his skin. Hanzo’s stomach muscles fluttered as Jesse left a trail of kisses down, stopping just above his belt buckle before dropping further down.

He leaned in and nuzzled along the line of Hanzo’s shaft and inhaled deeply. He felt the cock twitch in his pants. Hanzo’s face contorted and strained. His hands flexed at his sides as if he were unsure of where to put them.  It took everything within Jesse to not just wrap his lips around that cloth and suck him off. He still had his dignity though, even if he was just holding onto it by a thread.

There was something immensely satisfying about bringing an Alpha to his knees and making him beg. He wanted to unwind Hanzo to his very core and bring him to the edge of madness. Wanted to hear this man scream out his name and beg to knot him.

Meticulous hands threaded through his dark hair and pulled Jesse in closer. “I did not think you would submit to me so easily,” He crooned. There was a strain to it as if this was unnatural for the other man.  Jesse could not understand how a man like this could have such a fine voice. His fingers worked through Jesse’s hair, petting it back and away from his face as Jesse continued his delicate touch. Hanzo wanted to watch. Strong fingers worked their way down the back of his head to cradle his head close as blunt nails slowly scraped along his scalp.  

Jesse felt his eyes flutter closed at Hanzo’s words. Submit easily. Lord above, he could do that skillfully enough. If he wanted to, he would stop right now and just give in. Let Hanzo have his way with his body. Especially if he continued with touching his hair and ears. But no...not yet. Jesse hadn’t a proper heat in years. He had spent most of them alone, taking care of business on his own.  Now what he wanted was something more...The opportunity had presented itself nicely and he was not going to waste it with foolish things like biology.

Jesse nipped at the cloth, not catching any skin, but enough of a warning to show this Alpha he was not some bitch in heat. “Who said this is submission?” He looked up at the man with a wicked smirk as Hanzo quickly inhaled a breath.  Jesse’s hands moved quickly, catching the back of Hanzo’s calves and hooked behind his knees.

“Fuck!” Hanzo let out a snarl of shock as the palms of Jesse’s hands rammed against the back of his knee, his body crashed forward, knees slamming into Jesse’s shoulders as he nearly bent in half over the other man. His hands came down with a hard blow on Jesse’s back and grasped at the fabric to keep from tumbling further over. But Jesse held tight to his knees, refusing to let him move even a fraction of an inch away, despite how he squirmed.

Jesse inhaled deeply. The scent was getting stronger. Surprise gave way to arousal in his scent.  Jesse ran his hands upward, along the back side of Hanzo’s strong, muscular legs and cupped his firm ass. “From where I am sittin’, I feel like I have the upper hand.” Jesse let his teeth graze along the outline of his shaft, nipping playfully. The dark wool was already damp with pre and saliva.

Hanzo let out a raspy chuckle and leaned his weight on Jesse’s shoulders. His hands roamed over the other man’s clothed back as he bent himself even further into the awkward embrace. “You tell me that you are an omega. Omega’s are submissive little things. You are neither submissive nor small. How am I to believe a man of such contradictions?”

Jesse let his teeth graze against his shaft as he moved his lips down. He pressed the bridge of his nose into him hard, trying to get the scent all over him and pulled a deep groan from the man. “What can I say, Darlin’, I am a man of contradictions. But that’s what you like, ain’t it.  You like that I’m not spreadin’ myself out like a banquet meal. You like that I am not this small, frail little thing.”

His hands roamed up, pulling the remaining fabric of his shirt away from the waistband of his pants. He needed to feel the heat of flesh.  He wanted to feel the plains and valleys of this man’s back. Feel that strong muscle ripple under his hand. He grasped at every available inch of skin, letting his blunt nails run down the man’s spine and to his ass. His brain began to cloud over as the synthetic heat overtook his senses.  He heard the shirt fall away, pooling somewhere on the floor just beyond where his brain could comprehend. He leaned up and nuzzled against the scant spread of dark hair that started just below his navel and spread down under the dip of his tightening black pants...Pants that were suddenly all too constricting.

Hanzo’s hands moved back into Jesse’s hair and carded their way through the thick waves. His blunt nails scratched at his scalp and sent shivers of electricity jolting down Jesse’s spine and pooling in his cock. “You seem eager to have my cock in your mouth. I am beginning to think you are exactly what I was expecting. You seem like a poker player, Cowboy. You showed your hand too soon. You hold no surprises for me.”

The fingers intertwined with his hair and clenched hard before yanking back. Jesse’s head fell back as an eager moan escaping his lips. He exposed the tawny skin of his neck to the Alpha above him. “I can tell you now, as unique as you think you are. You are, as they say around here, a dime a dozen, Jesse.”

The way the man above him said his name...He felt the slick run down his thighs and soak into the denim of his jeans. His eyes glazed over and he held his mouth open as he looked into the man’s dark eyes. There was no way Hanzo could not smell him now. The sweet scent of omega permeated the room.  He was lewd in this position. And Hanzo liked it.

Mark, his brain commanded. Scent.

Breed.

Jesse panted heavily, thankful the words would not form past his lips. His tongue lay heavy against his teeth.

The grip in his hair loosened as he returned to stroking back his hair. His thumb rolled across Jesse’s temple.  “Such a pretty thing you are. So eager for it.” Hanzo stood up to his full height as Jesse’s grip on him loosened but lingered. His strong fingers moved across Jesse’s hair and across the shell of his ear. Jesse leaned into the simple touch, his eyes fluttering closed. His fingers twitched and dug into the fabric of Hanzo’s pants

Hanzo’s free hand moved to his belt as Jesse leaned his weight against his leg. “Such a pretty thing like this,” Hanzo’s trilled. Jesse watched with bleary eyes as Hanzo worked his belt and pants open with one hand as he nuzzled the thick meat of his thigh. There was an elegance to the other’s fluid movement. He had dedicated years to undressing one-handed himself, and still, he could not even glimpse the elegance in his own hefty movements.  Hanzo rubbed his palm against his own erection as the black silk of his boxers bulged but still kept him concealed from view.

The denim prison made his own cock ache and throb. Every little shift of his hips dragged the hard fabric over his heated flesh.  He sat back on his heel. His jeans were ruined. The roll of his hips was enough to press the heel of his foot against his needy hole and give him that delicious friction his body craved. He moaned out at the burst of pleasure and more slick dripped out of his needy body. “Want you,” Jesse purred out.

“I can see that. Or rather, I can smell it,” Hanzo’s hand continued to pet his hair back. He drew Jesse closer.  “And you are still fully clothed. Amazing.”

God, how could it be that he was still fully clothed while this man loomed above him mostly naked and still in complete control of every movement that happened. Jesse leaned in and mouthed at the clothed member. “Darlin,” He moaned out and licked up the side of his shaft. “As enticin’ as you are,” He swallowed back the lump that formed in his throat, “And as much as I love playin’ with you. I gotta be truthful. I ain’t gonna last much longer. I’m on the stuff, and Honeybee, I really just need to get stuffed.”

Hanzo groaned and stepped away, shedding the remainder of his clothes as if they were nothing at all to him, leaving him standing there, completely nude and erect.  Jesse let out a whine as his hands sought to pull the man back, needing him. Wanting him.

He straightened to move up to standing, feeling the tightening of his pants as he shifted upwards.  His brain screamed at him. This was not right. He was supposed to get further on the ground. He was supposed to pull off his pants and spread his legs out and let Hanzo knot him. Now.

Hanzo moved quick. Too quick.  Strong hands whipped out and grabbed Jesse’s sides hard enough to bruise and pushed him back, knocking them both off balance and crashing into the hard floor.

His lungs burned as he felt the breath being stolen from his chest. Hanzo was over him, blanketing him with his long limbs. He would be devoured that night. Heated breath tickled along his jaw as he felt the scrape of the other man’s beard on his skin, prickling him and muddling his mind further until slowly, focus came back into focus for him.

Teeth grazing along his jaw as controlled hands pulled at the fabric of Jesse’s shirt, lifting it up to bunch at his shoulders, exposing his midsection to the overheated air.  Jesse squirmed away, helping to pull the garment over his head and thrown aside, discarded with the rest of the unneeded clothes.

In the back of his mind, alarm bells were ringing. Too fast. Too hot.

Too much.

He felt the hard curve of Hanzo’s against him and the slow roll of hips, grinding into his own and sending electricity coursing through his veins.  This was not his first rodeo, and this was far from his first Alpha, but there was something different here, something wild and untamed. It had to be the synthetics, he told himself.  It was more potent than usual. It was expired. Something had to have gone wrong….

He gasped and arched into each of Hanzo’s aborted thrusts, feeling strong arms encircle his middle and pull their bodies closer together. He basked in each whining moan that emanated from his own body mingled with the hard, airy grunts pressed into his neck. The hard scratch of the Alpha’s goatee against his shoulder sent waves of pleasure spiking up his spine. “Fuck, Hanzo,” His voice was a whimpering moan.

The Alpha’s moved over him, nuzzling against between Jesse’s shoulder and neck while he pressed open-mouthed kisses along the heated flesh. Their scents mingled together and overwhelming his already livewire senses as he intertwined their bodies together. His legs

Jesse let out a deep, throaty groan and raked his nails his hands down Hanzo’s back, pulling a long hiss of pain from the Alpha above him.  Jesse was unafraid to bruise and mark. This was not a weak man. This was not some delicate flower that would wither under his gaze.

Jesse bucked.

Hanzo snarled as he was left unbalanced, but quickly he fell into the rhythm Jesse set.  Hands moved quickly, gripping the buckle to his belt as Jesse’s hands snaked into his hair and pulled it free of the bind. Jesse wiggled as strong fingers moved below the band of his jeans. He let out an undignified whimpering whine as his jeans were pulled down his body. A shiver rocked through his body as his cock bobbed free as he shimmied out of the remainder of his clothes. Hanzo groaned louder as the scent of his heat permeated the room. His arms encircled Jesse tighter.

Jesse managed a chuckle as he carded his hands through Hanzo’s hair, his skin already tacky with sweat.  His heat was too much already. In his mind, he wanted to continue the playful banter. He wanted to tease the Alpha further, but he was already lost. He could not continue this charade of dominance. He nuzzled against his soft hair, pressing a light kiss against his temple.  “Hanzo, don’t leave me achin’, darlin’.” He huffed out.

Lips played against the skin of his shoulder as his hands ghosted down his body to wrap around his cock, stroking him slowly. Another shudder raged through his body as he spread his legs. He felt the slick run down his thighs as Hanzo’s hands moved firmly against his sex, only to gasp and arch himself up as two fingers sank into his body.

There was no resistance.  Jesse quaked under him, spreading his legs wider as Hanzo’s thumb pressed against his taint and curled inside him. He felt his body gush as he cried out. He spread his legs wider and moved onto his fingers, pulling them deeper inside him. “Fuck Hanzo,” He panted and pulled him into a searing kiss as the world crashed down around him, leaving him shaking in the other’s arms. Yet he continued. Thankfully he continued.

Hanzo moaned, his tongue snaking his way into his Jesse’s open, waiting mouth. Jesse arched into him, his toes curling as he felt the fingers inside him curl and press against his sensitive inner walls as they throbbed and tried to pull him in deeper.  Sparks flew in front of his eyes as those fingers curled inside him and press against the bundle of nerves inside him that sent currents of pleasure through his veins.

God, had he ever been this wet and needy in his life?

There was no resistance, his body unfolded for the Alpha above him. He whined and rolled his hips with each long thrust of those fingers buried within him as he began to babble.  His mouth wouldn’t stop moving, hurling out anything thought that passed into his brain as every pretty thing that came into his mind tumbled out.

He yelped as he felt a sharp sting against his shoulder. “Must you say everything that passes into your brain?” The Alpha groaned and left a trail of sloppy, open-mouthed kisses up his shoulder and along his jaw.  He had been nipped. Bit. Hanzo bit. His brain clouded more. He needed more.

Jesse let out another low moan as he felt the fingers in him slowly withdraw before slamming back into his throbbing body. His hot cock twitched against his belly, begging to be touched by the man above him. “If you wanted me silent, you could just gag me.”

“And miss out on those pretty moans of pleasure?” Hanzo teased his hole. He withdrew his fingers.  Hanzo chuckled and nipped his chin. “If you insist on talking, you could always beg for it.”

Jesse licked his suddenly dry lips as he stretched himself out further.  “Or you could just shove that big knot into me and breed me proper.” He rolled his hips upwards, ignoring the pool of precum that gathered on his belly.  “Come on, Hanzo. You can’t take much more of this.”

A dark shadow passed over the other man’s features for a fraction of a second as his eyes flickered down to Jesse’s waiting cock.  He crawled between his legs, spreading them wide and hooking his arm carefully around one of Jesse’s knee and lifted it up. The other settled between his legs and already Jesse could see the swelling around the base of his cock.  He could see how

Jesse’s head fell back as he felt the slow push of the sponge-like head of Hanzo’s hard cock against his gaping hole. There was little resistance, he knew.  His body was already so wet, ripe for the taking. He pushed into him slowly. Agonizingly slow so Jesse could feel the burning stretch of the other.

There was only a slight burn, a delicious, deep sting he felt deep in his core as the head of Hanzo’s cock pushed into him deeper.  “Oh, yes.” He panted, his legs snaking their way around his hips and pulled at the other, forcing him in deeper. “I ain’t some wilting flower, Darlin’ I can take everything you got.” He smirked and arched his back, watching as the other’s eyes misted over with a lusty haze.  

He shivered under those dark eyes intense stare, not breaking contact with Hanzo.  His heart beat wildly in his chest. He waited for Hanzo to flip him over and take him from behind. Jesse was used to being manhandled around by Alphas, his face shoved into the floor and his body used for another’s pleasure.  But it never came. Hanzo kept him there, mostly in his lap and watched him.

Hanzo’s gaze lingered, his eyes almost soft as they searched his face for any sign of discomfort. There was a sweetness there as Hanzo continued his slow push into his waiting body.  Jesse let out a murmur of approval, tightening his legs around his hips as he urged him forward.

Hanzo chuckled. Sweat beaded at his temple as he leaned down and pressed a kiss against him, pulling another throaty moan from Jesse as he continued to press into him slowly. His cockhead dragged against his insides, sending a heated shiver down Jesse’s back and to his toes.

“Fuck,” Jesse panted and ran his hands up, carding his hands through Hanzo’s hair and pulled him even closer, deepening their kiss. Hanzo caught his bottom lip between his teeth and pulled another throaty moan from deep inside Jesse. He began to thrust his hips up against Hanzo’s, feeling the last thread of his resolve melting into that searing kiss.  “Fuck me.”

That was all it took. Fingers dug into his sides as Hanzo’s hips snapped forward, sheathing the rest of his cock deep inside Jesse before drawing back at the same agonizingly slow pace before thrusting forward, again and again.  

Jesse panted. He whined and writhed on his cock, arching his back as he let out mewls of pleasure.  Never before had he felt this wet. Never had he felt a partner take him so easily and so perfectly well. They fell easily into a rhythm, rocking against each other’s bodies. Curious hands melding against the other’s bodies, touching and feeling everywhere.  Everywhere but where Jesse needed it most.

His cock throbbed, forgotten between their bodies as he pulled the other close, desperate for friction. Desperate to feel whole and complete.  “Harder,” He begged, pressing blinding kisses along the other’s jaw, nuzzling and scratching against his beard.

Hanzo complied. He lifted Jesse’s hips and dug his heels into the floor, grunting loudly with each and every push. They wouldn’t last long, he knew. There was too much heat. Too much pent-up desire. He could feel the coil in his belly tightening further and further, threatening to explode within him as he panted against the other’s lips, yearning to get closer. To feel his touch deeper and scratch at that place deep inside him.

He could feel the swell at the base of Hanzo’s prick, edging along his rim.  His knot. Jesse threw his head back and wrapped his arms around Hanzo’s shoulders. His legs spread wider to accommodate, choking back another carnal cry of pleasure with each and every drag inside him.

“Please,” He heard the throaty moan against his lips. The Alpha begged.  “Please I need to-” His hand ghosted over Jesse’s belly, gripping his cock tight. His fingers rolled over the swollen head wetting his cock with each stroke.  

Jesse’s eyes rolled back. It was too much. The coil within him snapped. He cried out, clawing down Hanzo’s back as thick ropes of cum painted his belly. He arched himself off the floor as he felt Hanzo’s final push. His body opened up eagerly, taking the thick knot as it began to expand.

He was still, nearly silent as he felt Hanzo grunt above him, thrusting as best he could into him as his own peak rolled over him. His mouth hung open in a silent cry as his eyes scrunched up closed as if he could concentrate on nothing else but the pleasured release that raked through his body.  Jesse could feel it, swelling inside him thicker, pulling against his insides and locking the both of them together.

He felt the hot, wet kiss against his throat, followed by a sharp searing pain. Teeth. Teeth locked around his scent mark. Teeth biting down and claiming him.

The world went white.

Chapter Text

“Enough, put that away,” Hanzo groaned and threw an arm over Jesse. He pulled him in close, framing his body against Jesse’s under the covers. “You have spent most of the light bathed in that terrible blue glow. You need rest.”

It was true, he probably should be resting. The past several hours had been a continual revolution of laying like this, in the quiet of the night, kissing and nuzzling, not needing anything more than each other followed by intense bouts of hormone-induced boning. Jesse put his arm around Hanzo’s shoulder and held him close as he scrolled through the last reports the house had made for the third time. He planted a single kiss on his forehead and tilted the tablet away, so it would not shine in the other’s face. “Rest,” He mumbled.

The effects of the heat were wearing down, leaving him feeling more in control than he had in a long time. His mind felt clear. He was able to think easier.

This was an Overwatch safe house. One rarely used, but still was kept up and pristine. Someone obviously wanted to keep this place up to date, though a quick scan showed that Athena had not connected up to the mainframe in the past six and a half years.

It explained why he was still in the system and why she still insisted she could contact Commander Reyes of his current location as he was supposed to be stationed in Tehran.

Athena had been more than complacent when giving him the safehouses previous reports (much to Hanzo’s chagrin. The other did not enjoy being ignored after each satisfying round of fucking). Nearly a year ago there had been a delivery of unknown cargo to a redacted source. Several more similarly titles reports followed with classified names and origins. Deliveries were made outside, in one of the surrounding buildings and no one came to the main house. The past several months had been quiet though. “Athena,” He called out. Hanzo groaned and curled in tighter. He continued anyway. “Who authorized the deliveries?”

“That is classified, Agent McCree. You don’t have the clearance.” That had been the same reply to every inquiry he had. Everything had been classified or redacted or confidential. It was frustrating, seeing as the real Athena had given him some of the highest clearance in Blackwatch. He felt once again like a newbie agent.

“Alright,” He sighed and reached up, rubbing his tired eyes. “Athena-”

“Enough,” Hanzo growled against his skin. His hand ran up his sides. “Stop asking her questions you know she will not answer.” He pulled his body flush against Jesse’s, allowing him to feel the skin on skin contact. Jesse shuttered and let his fingers trace over the edge of the dragon tattoo.

After that first time, while still tied to his knot, Jesse had snagged every soft thing he could reach and place them on each other. It seemed terribly romantic at the time, throwing down all the bedding and he could find before the both of them fell into it, kissing and nuzzling against each other without any further need (until his heat spiked again and he threw Hanzo down and rode him to completion).

His mind then wandered back to Athena in the attic and the energy hub and the report filled with more black boxes and scrambled information that anything usable.

He was able to access the list of other safe houses in the area. There were a total of twelve, all hooked up to this main hub. Wires and pipes zigzagged through the desert to each one, including the rendezvous point for his bank job.

He set the tablet aside and pulled Hanzo in close, kissing along his hairline and letting the other man rest above him. “Sorry, honey.” He mumbled and nuzzled. Hanzo grunted and nuzzled his nose into his neck and mouthed along the juncture where his throat and shoulder met, sending a jolt of electricity through his whole core.

Touch-starved. That was the medical diagnosis Angie had given him after a particularly bad heat left him trapped in Bogota for more than three weeks without supplies. He had managed well enough on his own after his supprecents ran out. He fought against every biological urge to run into the streets of the Columbian city and present to every Alpha. Angie herself had not been pleased, scolding him for not being with the rest of the evac team. She scolded him further when he had not packed all the necessary medications he would need to survive if things went tits up. Mostly, she scolded Reyes for sending him out alone without an escort.

He wasn’t some southern belle with a case of the vapors, Reyes reminded her. He was a highly trained black-ops soldier with months of intel and the right background to get the drug barons of the country to trust him. This was his mission and it was his call to pull out and leave him behind. Santacruz still allowed him into the inner circle of meetings, even after Overwatch agents were detected. He had a choice. He put Blackwatch above biology. Reyes had been proud. He exalted Jesse for his ability to put the mission above the innate desire to nest.

But that diagnosis lingered in his brain. Touch starved. He was affectionate with his friends, maybe more-so than what was customary, but that was just who he was-An arm draped over Lena during debriefings, wrestling Genji to the floor when he stole the last microwave burrito from the fridge, doting on Fareeha when she experienced her first heartache. Sure he was touchy-feely, but that had nothing to do with anything. He just liked showing people how he felt when words weren’t enough.

But here, wrapped in this other man’s careful embrace, he felt a longing pull deep within his chest. This was different. This was visceral. Profound. He felt every breath that fell on his heated skin, every swipe of fingers along his back. Every light touch and press of the other man’s body and it soothed him.

He teased Hanzo about it, wanting to just lay with him in this mess of blankets and mattresses that he would never declare to be a nest. Nesting was something that other Omegas did. Omegas that had that deep, parental instinct to procreate and nurture. He had been built without that biological need. He wouldn’t be caught dead building a nest or settling down with some Alpha. He was beyond that.

His hand slowly moved up and carded lazily through his dark hair. “I like yer little wings,” He smiled down and twirled his fingers in the short hair there, pulling another huff of breath from the archer. It was cute how easily he could rile up the other. “Your scent drives me wild,” He pressed his nose into his hair and left a delicate kiss on his crown. “I’ve been around Alpha men all my life and you are the first...the only one to make me want to never leave a bed again.”

“Sentimental fool,” Hanzo let out a low growl and rolled his hips, grinding into him hard enough that he could feel the growing length of his side. “We should be resting.”

Jesse shifted. He rolled onto his side and slotted his hips against Hanzo’s, “Gonna be truthful. I am a little too wired at the moment to rest, what with everything going on with this place, and you.” His hand trailed down Hanzo’s chest, feeling each ridge and bump along the way.

Hanzo let out a loud moan. His hands rolled up his arms and over his shoulder and pulled him in close, pressing them together chest to chest. “No, that I do believe. I have never been with an Omega as….robust as you before.”

“Good...I am one of a kind and I intend to keep it that way,” Jesse smirked. “God, you feel good against me.” He reached down between them and cupped Hanzo in his hand, slowly stroking him, “Lemme show you how good I can be for you.”

Hanzo chuckled and pushed his hand away. “You make it seem like after this is over we will continue to work together.”

“Why wouldn’t we?” Jesse frowned and wrapped his arms around him tightly, locking the Alpha in place next to him. “You’re good for me. I’m good for you. We work well together.”

Hanzo frowned and stroked his hair back, behind his ear. He could no longer deny there is a longing inside him to have this man and keep him. But that was hormones talking. It was a synthetic heat he allowed himself to get wrapped up in. “I have never once thought about myself with another person.”

“I ain’t asking you to mate or nothing. I just feel...right when I am with you.”

Hanzo sighed deeply and frowned, his thumb rolled along the mark his incisors left along the other’s neck. It was a traditional mating mark, he knew. Jesse knew it was there too. His hand flying to it and rubbing it gently with each copulation. It was a token sentiment that truly meant nothing though. A symbol for conservative people to use as a way to prove their relationship instead of fessing up to what it actually was--An act that came from overwhelming passion. Jesse had left his own mark on his neck as well, sometime in there. The release of endorphins was nothing less than sublime.“Why can this not be just what it is right now? Without all the complications of a relationship. Without feelings. I like this….” Hanzo pulled him down into a kiss. “We are men that cannot ever settle.”

“What if I want to settle?” Jesse slowly stroked along his length, taking both their hardnesses into his hand. “I like bein’ with you.”

Hanzo groaned and wrapped his arms slowly around Jesse’s shoulders, “I cannot deny how much I enjoy this. But we are wanted men. Wanted men bring their own troubles.” He blinked and sat up. “You aren’t-” The blood drained from his features. “I mean….are you….in a way?”

Jesse blinked and looked up at the man above him, his eyes still glassed over and heat addled. “I ain’t in a way with what?” Slowly, it dawned on him. He chuckled and brought Hanzo down, pressing kisses to his forehead. “You askin’ if I am lookin’ to make any tiny Shimadas?” He pulled Hanzo into another soft kiss. “Does it look like I can be makin’ babies?”

“You are an Omega...and in heat…”

Jesse held him close. “I am both those things. And there ain’t any way you can get a baby in me. I ain’t got a place inside me to put it.” He nuzzled against him again. “Hanzo, you can knot me to yer heart’s content and ya ain’t gettin’ nothing but a very satisfied man.”

He rolled them over, pressing his lips against his skin. “Speakin’ of which, ya think you got one more round in you?” He purred against his neck. He felt the rumble deep within the other’s chest. “And after that, I promise we’ll sleep.”

“Liar.”

__________

Jesse felt refreshed as he lay, half asleep on the floor of the living room. He felt the chill of the morning against his bare skin and stretched out, reaching for the Alpha next to him and found nothing.

He blinked the remainder of sleep out of his eyes and sat up. “Han?” He grunted. His legs felt like jelly. It was wonderful. He growled and kicked out his limbs, trying to detangle himself from the sheets around him that pinned him down. Suddenly, he felt the itch of dried sweat and other fluids on his stomach and back and he felt unclean. He smelled of sex and body odor.

It had been a long time since he allowed that feeling of uncleanliness. Heats had a way of tricking your brain, letting you feel normal and warm and safe all while letting you get absolutely, disgustingly sweaty and gross. It was all for the purpose of procreation, but he was not in that way. He had never had any of those instincts to stay with a single Alpha and settle down and to…

Nest.

His eyes shot up as loud footsteps fell in the hall and suddenly, there was Hanzo, freshly shaved and showered, leaning against the side of the door frame with a confident smirk on his face. He was dressed traditionally, how he always expected to see Hanzo Shimada, in black silk hakama pants and open gi, showing off that glorious tattoo and chest of his.“Good morning, Mate,” He purred out in a teasing tone.

Jesse felt the heat rising from his cheeks as he looked around the circular framing of blankets, pillows and Hanzo’s discarded clothes, all neatly tucked and arranged without his remembrance. He gaped back to Hanzo, his mouth hanging open and looking for an explanation. Instead, he was greeted with that sly smirk as he bit into an apple and continued, “I would have woken you earlier, but I was sure you would have pulled me back into your nest and never let me leave.” There was a teasing tone to his voice like he found the whole situation humorous.

“I-” Jesse’s voice cracked.

“Do you feel normal again?” He asked and moved in, kneeling by the nest and stroked along his exposed calf. There was a partial leather glove on his hand, covering several fingers, but leaving the last two fingers exposed. The two not used for firing a weapon. If Jesse thought he looked handsome in the tight t-shirt and jeans, it compared nothing to the traditional style of Hanzo. The man was stunning in dark blues and golds, his tattoo fully exposed and looking even more impressive against his thick chest. He didn’t wait for Jesse to answer before continuing. “I was able to convince your computer system I was an agent. She lowered the fence for me.” He smiled

“How-”

“She is not at all up to date. I called myself Agent Shimada and she treated me with more respect. It is dangerous to leave her online like this, she would allow anyone in.”

Jesse nodded. Agent Shimada. He doubted Athena had facial recognition software, otherwise, she would not have asked for his name and ID. “She didn’t ask got your ID?”

“Apparently just having another qualified agent in the house allowed her to think I was just a new recruit, I guess.” He patted Jesse’s leg affectionately. “Get dressed, I have much to show you.”

Jesse groaned and moved to his feet, covering himself with the nearest sheet by wrapping it around his middle. “How long have you been--”

“Up? Several hours. Your synthetic finally wore off and I could not bring myself to waking you,” Warmth spread up Jesse’s cheeks at the warm tone. Hanzo’s hand came up, stroking his beard. “You would be useless if you did not get at least a few hours rest. Go upstairs and wash. There are protein bars on your gear. You will need those as well. You spent a lot of energy last night.”

And the affectionate tone was gone. Hanzo dropped his hand and stepped away. “I will meet you outside.” With that, he turned and left Jesse standing there. Naked. In the living room.

He groaned and gripped the sheets tighter as he made his way up the stairs. Already, he could hear the bots whirring to life and destroying his creation as he shut the door to the bathroom and dropped the sheet before stepping into the shower. “Athena?” He called out as turned the knob and was hit with the wonderfully, hot water.

“Yes, Agent McCree,” Athena’s voice sounded from the heavens.

“Where is Agent Shimada?”

“Agent Shimada is outside in the side garage. If you wish for me to call him, I am unable. I have no ports into any of the surrounding buildings. Storms have damaged my systems and I have not yet been repaired.”

He nodded and continued to wash. “What have you told Agent Shimada?”

“He has the same level of clearance you do, Agent McCree.”

Unhelpful. Jesse nodded and ran both hands through his hair quickly, rinsing it in the warm water.

“Agent Shimada was investigating the last known whereabouts of Agent Breen.” Athena continued.

“Breen?” Jesse’s head shot up at that. “What do you mean?”

“This morning Agent Shimada inquired about the last Overwatch operatives that stayed here. It was Agent Samuel Breen, ID number B-9614584995. He was last seen ten months, four days and seventeen hours ago on the property.”

“And he came into the house?”

“Not at that time. He was recognized by the security fence that was installed. He arrived ten months, four days and nineteen hours ago.”

“So he was here two hours and left?”

“No, Agent McCree. He was here two hours then disappeared. He never left the property.”

Jesse swallowed and stepped out of the shower, letting the AI take care of shutting off the water. He grabbed a towel and quickly dried himself before moving to his gear bag.

Breen. Breen was long dead. Long long dead. Suicide, they called it, though it never sat right with him. He was a quiet operative, good at information gathering and better behind a desk. The moment he was switched to tactical missions, the man seemed to just fall apart. He never understood why anyone would have put him in those stressful situations. The shrink had insisted with his mental examinations there was no breakdown though. He insisted that he was healthy for duty. McCree stated otherwise. Loudly.

At that point though, Reyes was no longer listening to his opinion, instead, he told McCree to do his job and not ask too many questions. Breen had been assigned to them for a reason. Jesse had to trust Morrison’s judgment. The Strike Commander handpicked him for Blackwatch

Then, one day he quietly left the base. Reyes had to go in weeks later to identify his remains. He never saw his commander look so angry or so lost before. After that, Reyes withdrew more. He stopped listening to Morrison’s orders as well.

Jesse locked the final buckle of his chaps into place before picking up the sturdy frame of his chest armor and slipped it on. Hanzo was dressed in full gear. He looked ready for a fight. He had to be similarly prepared, he reasoned.

Glove came next followed by his hat and boots. Finally, he wrapped his tattered serape around his shoulders and bounded down the stairs and out the front door, into the dry heat of the morning. He lazily strapped Peacemaker around his hips and headed to the first barn.

Hanzo met him outside, holding up a provisions bag. “Did you eat?” He asked.

Jesse rolled his eyes and pulled out a protein bar. “Agent Breen was the last agent who checked in here, yes?”

“I looked him up,” Hanzo pushed open the strong, metal door and stepped into the garage. It was like a hotbox oven. “Paper pusher in Overwatch. A nobody. It would make sense that someone so quiet with so little on him would successfully infiltrate a-”

“Naw, Breen’s dead. Long dead. Went to his funeral and everything. I can confirm his deadness. Someone knew Athena would be outdated. They knew his access code and ID numbers and they gave him the ability to come and go. The house doesn't have a facial recognition, but the fence does.”

“Did Athena tell you about his mysterious disappearance?” Hanzo turned and smirked. “I figured out how he managed that.”

Jesse shook his head. “You ain’t interested that there is a man lyin’ about bein’ a dead Blackwatch agent? You ain’t worried about-”

“Of course he lied,” Hanzo shrugged and lifted up the bow and quiver that were left leaning on the side of the garage. Inside, the space was bare. Only a few wooden crates remained, each stamped with the emblem of Los Muertos or Deadlock Rebels. Jesse growled inwardly at the disrespect of it all. Neither organization should have ever used Overwatch as a cover...

Hanzo weaved through the junk as if it were nothing towards the backmost corner of the garage where a sheet of metal lay over the concrete flooring. Jesse was used to seeing these types of holes in the ground. It was an old-school way to change the oil in a vehicle if you didn’t have the supports to lift it up. Can’t go up? It was easier to go underneath. His own granddaddy had done that, a small three by four pit in the ground that he could stand in while he worked under the car and didn’t have to lay on his back. When he was done, a piece of scrap metal over it would seal the deal and keep nosy kids from using it as a hiding space.

His heart sank. “Hanzo, is there a body in there?” he asked, stopping suddenly as the archer knelt by the metal sheet. “Did someone kill ‘Breen’ and leave him in a mechanic’s pit?”

“What?” Hanzo blinked. “If I found a body I would just tell you. No. Grab your gear.” He flipped up the metal sheet and tossed it aside as he stood up straight and proud over the pit.

Only, it wasn’t a pit. It was a staircase that descended into the dark earth. Hanzo placed a hand on his hip and quirked an eyebrow. “Are you not curious why this abandoned Overwatch safehouse in the middle of the desert has a building cut off from the main AI and has a giant tunnel leading to who knows where?”

He nodded slowly and moved forward, peering down into the abyss. “Where does it go?”

Hanzo shrugged. “Excellent question. Shall we find out?"

Chapter Text

“Abandon all hope,” Jesse groaned out in the darkness.  Hanzo turned his torch and looked at the man walking next to him in the narrow tunnel.   He gave his most smoldering smile as he looked over, turning his own torch on Hanzo. “Ya hear the one about the cowboy and the samurai descending into hell?”

They had been walking for several hours now, but it felt longer than eternity in the dark.   Hanzo’s internal judgment of time was skewed. He felt exhausted and energized all at once. He could run a marathon and drop dead. It all was too much.  It was hard to tell how far into the narrow tunnel they had walked. It had been miles at least, with the way his limbs began to ache and his stomach turned, demanding more than another silly nutrition bar for subsidence. He glanced behind him, no longer able to find that sliver of daylight from the entrance.

The only thing he knew was that they were going the right way.  There was only one way to go. No branching paths, no lights. Nothing. Just a small, narrow path barely big enough for the two of them to walk along, shoulder to shoulder.

“Dante’s Inferno,” Hanzo mumbled as he shone his torch back to the path, watching the beam of light disappear into the void.  He could not remember who started the game, but soon it was the only thing engaging his brain and keeping him from crawling out of his skin.   One would say a quote or part of a quote and the other’s job was to come up with who said it. Mostly, McCree stuck to things he knew rather well; old American movies and terrible music while Hanzo tried to keep his more intellectual.  Then the game turned. Somewhere along the way, they began thinking up every quote they could think of that related to the dark...or hell...or a void. “That one is too easy, McCree,” He mumbled.

“Yer last one was a damn Shakespeare quote about devils livin’ among us. Figured I would throw out the granddaddy of all Hell quotes. Before you got the chance” His shoulder connected with Hanzo’s as he smirked.

He hummed and felt the wall to his side shift to the left, twisting around a corner.  “Is there wall still on your side?”

He could not see Jesse move but heard his affirmative hum.   “We are turnin’, going….left….hold up.” Jesse stopped in his tracks and pulled out a paper from his back pocket. “Shine that light here.”

Hanzo shifted the torch into his other hand and leaned over, looking at the paper in Jesse’s hand.  It was a colorful array of jagged, green swirls and dots. He frowned. “Where did you find that?”

“Topographical map,” Jesse smirked. “Never leave home without it.  Electronics fail and ya can’t always count on GPS bein’ there to save you.” He pulled a pencil out of his hat and pressed the map against the wall.  “We were here,” He made a small dot on the page. “I checked the coordinates this morning, well...between our...ya know…” He smirked back at him. “We traveled….” He pulled out a small device from his belt and looked down.  “....West……” He mumbled and began to make little tick marks on the map. “We have gone maybe eight klicks… about five miles.”

“How-”

“Counted my steps,” He shrugged. “Ain’t no thing. I’ve had to be in weirder places.” He made a final tick on the map. “We are heading into the mountains.” He smiled and put his arm around Hanzo. “Let’s go.”

He folded the map and put it back in his pocket before putting his arm around Hanzo’s shoulder and started off again.  Jesse pressed a small kiss against his forehead and began to hum something that Hanzo did not recognize. The tunnel smelled stale. It reeked of the damp, mustiness of darkness.  

He silently thanked whatever spirits existed that nothing had taken up residence in these tunnels besides the dark, black spiders and small, clear scorpions (both of which McCree stomped out with his boot without a second thought, allowing Hanzo the dignity of not needing to mention his slight arachnophobia).

“Each of us bears his own hell,”  Hanzo mumbled as the scent of the air changed slightly, feeling cooler and fresher.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Jesse grumbled. “‘S I good one. Who said that.”

“Virgil,” Hanzo let his torch shine around the darkness.  “I thought I could continue with the Dante Alighieri theme.”

The silence surrounded them as they continued, McCree’s arm slipped from his shoulder and instead, slowly his fingers interlaced with Hanzo’s. He gave a slight squeeze. In his mind, he knew it was to keep him near as the tunnel continued. There was a slight widening around them, allowing for space between them to widen. It was to keep him near and not fall behind.  It was definitely not because of the previous night they spent together. And Hanzo returned the gesture, clutching his hand tightly as a sign that he understood and not because of the fluttering feeling he held in his stomach when the other was near.

This was a dangerous place to be, to feel this sentimental over another being. He was not a man of worth. He had nothing to offer an Omega. No den of his own or family title. Not anymore anyway.  Ten years ago he could have given him the world, complete with a cozy home to live, anything his heart desired. He looked over at the ridiculous cowboy.

Now the only thing he could only offer anyone was a deadpan sense of humor that most people found more offensive than affectionate and a mild case of alcoholism.

None of that seemed to bother Jesse though.   He seemed to enjoy his company, despite every reason for him to despise him. Even after knowing all that he had done, still, Jesse sought his company.  Never in his life, had anyone just wanted to be with him. Never had another wished to just have his presence and not his skill or his wealth or his title.  Jesse liked him in spite of everything he was.

He held tight to his hand as the other continued to hum along to what he could guess was an old country ballad, trying to not think of the eventual heartache and pain.

The tunnel continued to widen until he felt a shift in the air.  Gone was the stale, putrid air and a cold shiver ran up his spine of artificial air.  He frowned in the dark and looked over, curious if the cowboy also felt the same.

The frown on the other’s face confirmed his notion. There was a dip in the walkway, and suddenly they walked on an incline, descending further into the earth where the coolness grew and the light sound of laughter permeated the air.

The slamming of what sounded like a door made him jump to attention, his hand moving to the small knife concealed in his belt as angry voices traveled along the tunnel. The adrenaline pumped in his ears as Jesse released his hand, switching off the torch. His hand probably lingered like Hanzo’s, on his weapon and ready to attack.  

The voices never neared though. Instead, father ahead, there were rows of thin slats in the wall where dim light poured through. A metal grate that extended nearly from floor to ceiling and was as wide as the both of them together. They were in an air return shaft.

“You complete ass!”  The words echoed loudly through the grafting as they approached. Jesse’s arm again went around his shoulder, pulling him in close enough that he felt the wool serape brush over his bare skin and enveloped him in the spicy scent of the cowboy.  He leaned in closer as footsteps stomped along the other side of the wall. The rumbling of other voices teetered out as he heard a loud thumping, followed by a loud, squeal.

He slowly moved closer to the metal slats in the wall and peered into the adjoining room. The thick scent hit him first, pungent and sour. He recognized it almost immediately as he felt the aggression climb within his guts.  His own arm reached around and latched around the cowboy as he felt a small, predatory rumble deep in his chest.

Alphas in a rut.  

The room was disgustingly maintained, with old take-out and pizza boxes stacked on the floor under an end table held together with duct tape. Along the back wall, the spray painted motif of a skull with chains and a lock with the words “Deadlock Rebels!” underneath.  A television blared from the corner, sending out loud, obnoxious sounds with what must have been a form of music. The center of the room held a mustard yellow couch, stained brown in spots, making it look much like an old, bruised banana.

That was where he saw the both of them, two Alphas draped lazily over the couch, their cocks out and knots swelling. Their eyes weren’t on the television though. A third Alpha stood barely in his sights as he blocked something into the back corner. The third one growled loudly, nearly barking.

Hanzo frowned at the uncouth display of dominance. His arm tightened more as his head swam slowly. Angered Alphas were one thing to deal with, but three angered Alphas on a rut...if they caught the scent of an Omega…

“Darlin,” Jesse’s soft voice washed over him like a cool breeze, locking him back into place.  He looked over at the wide eye of the other. “What are ya doing?”

Hanzo looked down at his arm, clutched to nearly white around the leather strap of his belt, forcing Jesse into his space and practically molded against his body. “Alphas,” He whispered as if it were an answer.  His brain still lingered with that heated rush of adrenaline as he watched those whiskey eyes in the dim light. He nodded and removed his arm completely.

“I see ‘em. Big ugly ones. Bet they have an Omega somewhere near. I can smell ‘em.” Jesse whispered. Hanzo doubted these buffoons would be able to hear him, even if he shouted over the blare of the sirens that now permeated the music. His head began to throb.  “That’s an old Deadlock technique, you know. Listen to that awful kinda crap makes you more agitated. Alphas said their ruts were more intense that way.”

Hanzo frowned and looked back into the room. The two on the couch were intent on whatever was in the corner. “I do not see how they could enjoy anything with a pounding headache,” he grumbled.

The Alpha in the corner rushed at whatever he had trapped, like a predator catching his prey.  Hanzo balked at the notion, hearing again the loud squeal they had heard earlier. The Alphas all laughed as Jesse stiffened beside him.

“They got the Omega cornered in there,” He hissed and looked over.  “In a full heat too.”

“Fitting,” Hanzo scoffed. “As they are all in a rut.”

Jesse gaped at him for a moment before turning back. He braced his hand on the grate as if intending to push it open and go to the little Omega’s defense.  “We can’t just--”

“No no! Brute!”  The Omega squealed as he was lifted up and lobbed over his shoulder of the Alpha. He kicked out his arms and legs as he was carried back over to the couch where the two other Alphas sat and was dumped onto their laps.  Finally, Hanzo was able to see him clearly. The omega was still dressed, for the most part, though what he wore could in no way be considered decent. He wore denim shorts that were so short that the white pockets stuck out the back. His ass was clearly visible, much to the delight of the Alphas around him. He wore a flannel red shirt that was unbuttoned, but tied in a knot around his chest, showing a considerable amount of skin.  What really completed the look though were the ruby red, tassel boots and matching cowboy hat.

“Is the Omega a hooker?” Hanzo asked.  “He looks like a hooker.”

Jesse’s eyes were still locked onto Hanzo, “Can’t you smell the Omega?” He whispered.

Hanzo pinched the bridge of his nose to try and alleviate some of the headache that pounded behind his eyes.  He shook his head. “Not with the three Alphas in a rut there.” How could anyone pick out a weak scent compared to that?

Jesse pulled Hanzo away, further into the vent and away from the cacophony of noise and smells. Instantly, his headache washed away.  “Cause I’ve been in Deadlock bases where they kept Omegas in heat and every damn Alpha would go wild at the mere hint of a fertile mate. Are you sure you are okay?”

Even in the dimness of the tunnel, Hanzo could see the worry in his eyes. “I am truly unaffected by that.  The Alphas are obnoxious and I wish them bodily harm, but-”

Jesse’s hands gripped both his shoulders as he looked down, into Hanzo’s eyes, as if searching for deception.  Hanzo’s eyes dipped to the mark he left previously on Jesse’s shoulder. He had bitten last night, which neither of them addressed. It was a rash decision done in the heat of the moment and it meant nothing…

Unless…

He shook his head, “I am unaffected.  My training made it so I would not ever lose myself when an Omega in heat was nearby.”  It was the truth. Before last night, he had never felt drawn to an Omega, even in heat, he kept his bearings.  He just had impeccable self-discipline. “How about yourself? There are three Alphas in there, all of them in a rut and-” The loud squeal sounded dissolving into a heady moan. Hanzo shuttered at the thought.  

“That synth is outta my system. If it weren’t, I would still be keepin’ you in bed,”  The smile he gave was genuine. “They are makin’ me antsy, but I ain’t gonna drop down and present, if that’s what yer worried about.”

Hanzo closed his eyes to recenter himself.  He was still perturbed by the sour scent of Alpha. He blinked as strong arms wrapped around him and pulled him in close.  He nosed along Jesse’s collar and breathed in deeply. His scent clung to the other, marking Jesse as his…

No, not his. Never his...this was merely a fling in the desert. An oasis for his isolation.

“‘M okay,” Jesse whispered and pressed his nose into Hanzo’s neck.  “Really. This...This don’t feel right,” Jesse whispered and looked over to Hanzo.  “Deadlock would have raided that house for everything it had, not lock it away for safekeeping. Deadlock ain’t got no good supports or command. They scrap and take”

Hanzo hummed in agreement and moved back to the slats in the wall. Overwatch would not have put itself at risk of being raided with this either.  The tunnel was not anything new thought. The amount of time and engineering to complete such a task would have taken countless resources and planning. “Could this have been an Overwatch safehouse?” He whispered.  “One that Deadlock found?”

“Possibly. We are in an air return shaft, so they would not have tried to tear this down.” Jesse whispered. “They ain’t good scrappers. High school dropouts and angry assholes, mostly.  The older ones stay that way ‘cause they get themselves pretty at the top. They take what they can see and don’t think about the consequences.” He trailed off and looked to the side.

“What?” Hanzo leaned in more, looking into the room. The Omega had moved.  He draped himself over all three Alpha’s laps. He purred happily and pulled the one nearest into a kiss as the other two pawed at his exposed skin. The four looked content with the situation. They were Alphas used to sharing and knowing they all received a piece in the end.

“I can hear someone else,” Jesse hissed right as the door kicked in and a fourth Alpha stomped inside with fury in his eyes.  Slowly, his gaze panned over the scene in front of him and his upper lip curled back “Knots for brains!” He snarled. The Three Alphas jumped to their feet, effectively knocked out of their rut addled stupor and dropping the Omega to the ground with a heavy thump.  “Knock that off, you ain’t suppose to take the synth until after the job is done!”

The three Alphas had the decency to looked ashamed, covering their exposed erections with their hands as the lead Alpha stomped over and hit each one with his hat.  It seemed almost comical, like a routine from a bad Stooges movie.

The new man stormed to the center of the room and grabbed the television connected to the wall and pulled it free of its hinges and dumped it onto the ground. Instantly the pounding music fizzled out as sparks flew from the destroyed screen.  He grabbed the sides of the end table and tilted it, dumping half drank beers and magazines onto the floor before slamming it down, front and center of the alert group.

The three remaining Alphas had the dignity to tuck their cocks back into their pants as the lead Alpha rampaged through the room. The Omega stayed on the floor, pouting his full lips and crossing his arms over his chest as if he were the one in charge and he had just been undermined.

“Jefe!”  The Alpha in the middle whined and was immediately cut off as the lead Alpha slammed his phone onto the table hard enough for it to wobble and a blue hologram shot up, showing the full figure of a man who glared darkly at the group. His face was obstructed by a black mask, though the rest of his wardrobe was a rich, dark black suit.

“The job’s done, boss!” The Alpha at the left end snarled. He reached down and pulled the Omega up, plastering him to his side. “We did our part of the deal, we get the reward!” Next to him, he heard Jesse swear under his breath.  The Alpha continued to defend himself, his fingers moving along the Omega boy’s side. “Our part was to get that damn idiot into the bank, out of the bank, to the safehouse then to the hooker house.”

“Your job was to get Jesse McCree dead!” The man in the hologram snarled.  

Hanzo peered over at the man next to him as another string of barely audible curses flew out of his mouth.  His hands clenched at his own thigh tight enough to turn his knuckles white as he listened.

“He’s still missing!” The man in the hologram snarled. “And your job!” He jabbed his finger at the Omega. “You were supposed to keep him away! You were supposed to bring him by in the morning and wait until my assassin was in place!”

The Omega growled and wrapped his arms more tightly around the Alpha.  “Ain’t my fault, boss.” He let out a pathetic whine and pouted, nuzzling into the space at his side.  It was a ploy Hanzo saw often back home. Omegas would lean on an Alpha to appear more weak and submissive. They would whine and pout and give off all the dignity of a cat in heat. And Alphas actually fell for it.  He frowned as he watched all three Alphas turn and reach out to comfort the boy. The lead Alpha himself looked over with sympathy in his furious eyes.

Apparently, it had no effect on the man in the hologram. “‘Ain’t your fault’? Because of you, Jesse McCree is somewhere in Santa Fe! He is in hiding now and I am sure he is onto my assassin.”

The Omega’s lower lip trembled. It looked entirely fabricated. There was too much tremble to his jaw, too big of crocodile tears spilled down his rosy cheeks. And his eyes...His eyes were crystal clear and full of righteous anger. “I tried,” He whined. “I tried to get him to knot me. I was all over him and I took the synth, so I drove all the boys wild but I just couldn’t get him all knot happy! Even for the night.”

The man in black paused, pressing both his palms together and raised them to his forehead.  He looked like those old painting, of the man praying to god for serenity. Slowly, he lowered his hands back to the center of his chest and let out the long exhale of breath he had been holding. He spoke slowly, evenly  “That is because he is an OMEGA!” He snarled. “I gave you his file to read--can you even read? Of course, if you beg for a damn knot he’s going to push you away. He is not a fool. He knows that he could not satisfy a needy Omega.”

“If he was an Omega, why use me at all?” the boy huffed and fell back onto the couch. He crossed his arms over his chest and kicked his legs up, onto the table, causing the phone, and the Man in Black, to bounce.

“It was in the file,” He snarled through gritted teeth, his voice was dangerously low.

The Omega huffed again.  “Why get me to fuck him then and not an Alpha?”

The Alpha in the center slowly sat on the couch as well. He leaned in and nipped at the flesh of the Omega’s neck. “He’s a big, dumb Omega. Probably a low down, dirty scumbag who has no problem bedding other Omegas. Especially ones as pretty as you.”

The Omega giggled and wrapped his arms around the Alpha next to him, drawing wanton looks from the other two Alphas towards the center.

“You decided to act like a tramp in heat, begging for a good knot, what else is he to do? IDIOTS!” The man in black snarled. “If he can’t give you a knot, why would he fuck you?” The man threw up his arms in exasperation. He understood he was talking in circles and getting nowhere with this crew.

“Why not just kill him when he was at that safe house, boss? We could have done it yesterday,” The other Alpha growled, the one on the right that hadn’t spoken yet.

The man in black paused. He took a slow deep breath and exhaled before speaking again, this time low and slow.  “Because I want Shimada to be the one to do it. Call it...poetic justice or something. I don’t care. Just know I have plans for Shimada that don’t involve you nitwits.  This is my damn plan and it was foolproof until I met you fools and you FUCKED IT UP. Get out of here and go track Jesse McCree down! Just use the Omega as bait again. Who cares! He seemed to like him well enough to save him.”

The three Alphas looked down, though the Omega’s eyes were still trained on the man in black.  “I’m coming to you. Just wait there.” He snarled. “Get McCree there.”

With that, the call ended, leaving the four Alphas and the Omega staring at nothing, their mouths agape.  The lead Alpha was the first to move. He snatched the Omega by the arm and hauled him to his feet, grabbing the cowboy hat and throwing it to ground.  “You’re the one with his number,” He snarled out and turned the Omega, pushing him towards the door. “Call him! Get his ass here! Tell him the big bad Alphas kidnapped you or some bullshit.”

The Omega scowled as he slinked away. He snatched his phone up and stepped aside.

The Alpha on the left growled a little, moving to his feet, as he followed the Omega like a lost puppy. The lead Alpha stepped between them quickly, shoving him back with another feral snarl.  The other backed off slowly, moving back to the couch to sit among the other two sullen Alphas.

Jesse let out a shaking breath, “That’s the kid. That is him. The one I brought to Birdy’s.” He whispered before covering his mouth with his gloved hand.

“What?” Hanzo leaned in, whispering.  

“That Omega,” Jesse turned to him, his face pallid and sickly.  “That’s the kid. The one from the heist!”

Hanzo sat quietly, unsure what to say.  He looked back at the Alphas in the room. “So these-”

“This is the gang from the bank job. The ones I supposedly killed….” He started to chuckle, before having to cover his mouth as he snorted a laugh. “First time in history anyone’s ever cheated death like that.” Tears streamed down his face as he looked over. “It’s funny, right? I can’t even see a set up when it’s happening right in front of me.”  He slowly collapsed onto the cold floor, panting hard. He shook his head before wiping at his eyes with his serape. “Damn.”

Timidly, Hanzo reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezed. Deep within he felt a sharp stab of sympathy.  All of this was just an elaborate ploy to break him down. Everything here was just to ruin this man. He let out a possessive rumble from deep inside.  This man...he must have hated Jesse to his very core to set up such an elaborate scheme... and it was working.

“Do you want me to kill them now?” He asked, tipping Jesse’s head up to meet his eye. “I will do that. For you.”

Jesse looked back to the Alpha den. He shook his head.  “Ain’t worth it,” He whispered. “They ain’t nothin’ but dumb Alphas.”

The Omega swaggered back into view, his phone dangling out of his hand as he cocked his hip to the side.  Jesse turned his face away, the wounds still fresh and deep. Hanzo felt the rage boil within him at the thought of this imposter carefully making himself out to be a victim. He knew about Jesse. He lied to Jesse.  Hanzo’s fingers slowly carded their way through Jesse’s tousled beard and scratched at his jaw.

Disgusting.

Hanzo stepped back as he watched the Omegan jab something on his phone then bring it to his ear. The next moments happened as if in slow motion “Jesse,” He breathed out and felt every muscle in his back tense as he watched the Omega snap his gum and turned towards the vent. “You didn’t-”

The music seemed to blast out of Jesse’s pocket at a volume level that far exceeded normal as the screech of fiddles sounded from the depths of his pocket. The world came to a screeching halt as McCree fell back onto his ass and scrambled to pull the device out of his pocket, trapped by the leather chaps and tight jeans.

“She thinks my tractor's sexy, ” The twangy sound of some ancient country singer belted out as Jesse’s fingers scrambled over the screen to no avail.  He bit the finger of his gloved hand and yanked it off as his flesh met the phone, “ It really turns her on- ”  

As quickly as it came, the sound died out.  Jesse lay there, sprawled out on the cement with the blue tint of the screen illuminating his features as he panted heavily.  Neither moved as they looked at the grate. “Do you think...they heard?” He whispered.

The ‘ping’ of bullets hitting metal answered the question for him.

Hanzo bolted. He grabbed Jesse by the collar and hauled him to his feet as he ran further down the tunnel and deeper into Deadlock’s base. Deeper into the depths of Hell

Chapter Text

“Idiots!” Jesse heard the lead Alpha screaming through the tunnel, followed by a loud crash as the hail of bullets ceased. “You led him right here!”

“I ain’t done nothing of the sort!” Jack...the Omega...whatever his real name was screamed back. The world continued to tilt as Hanzo kicked through another grate and manhandled him into the Deadlock base. Behind, he could hear the clanging of the Alphas pounding against the metal, trying to get it to collapse. Luck was on their side though, and they still stayed on the other side.
Even from the distance, he could clearly hear the long whine of the Omega as he continued to make excuses.

Good, Jesse’s jaw ached as his teeth ground together harder. He set his resolve and pushed the anger that swelled inside him deeper still. Let them all think he followed them here. Let them think this was all a setup. Paranoid Alphas made for easier targets, he reminded himself. Paranoid Alphas and needy Omegas would make all this easier.

He took in his new surroundings, unable to see much further beyond the Alpha ahead of him. His hand was still firmly clasped in the other’s as Hanzo clutched to him as if afraid McCree would run back to confront them all head on.

No, he reasoned. That was more foolish than leaving his phone at full volume. At least three of those Alphas were in a rut. A rut he doubted very much was natural. He had very little experience with synthetic ruts but knew enough that it spiked testosterone levels way above a normal rut should and kept the Alpha suspended in an aggressive state for hours.

“Hanzo,” He whispered. “Are you-”

Hanzo let out a growl of warning and Jesse silenced himself. He followed closely behind the dark silhouette of the archer as he was led along through the dark abyss. His footsteps echoed off the distant walls, giving him an idea of space. This had to be some sort of warehouse, carved directly into the side of the mountain. It was the only way he could imagine a structure so big surviving out in the desert without being discovered. He closed his eyes and listened to the echoing drip of condensation. They had walked far longer than he imagined if they made it the all the way to the distant mountains, but time had no relevance in hell. And that is where they were.

A loud click stopped them both in their tracks as the lights above slowly hummed to life, casting a dull, artificial glow over everything and revealing the truth of the warehouse. He was not sure how Hanzo was able to navigate so well in the darkness as he looked around.

It was a cave. That was for certain now. He could see the dark brown rock walls above him where metal pipes were bolted directly into the ceiling and large, industrial-sized lights dropped down and gave the place light.

The rest of the warehouse though seemed more like a trash dump than a working industry. Old, rotting crates were stacked twelve feet into the air, creating warped and weird corridors and rooms. Brightly colored paint sprayed tags along the walls, marking the rooms with names like Sanchez or Bootz with the Deadlock Skull or other symbols graffitied to the walls. Some of the rooms were welded together with large plates of metal scrap, haphazardly melted to the wooden boxes and charred.

There was the promise of the structure to stay upright, even if it was not perfectly sound. Most of the walls had toppled over, scattering the remains of their innards across the floor and making it difficult to navigate. Water dripped from the condensation on the ceiling to the boxes, allowing them to just rot away.

He was not sure how it was that Hanzo was able to find his way so quickly through the maze. The depository had been carved literally into the side of the mountain. Jesse looked up and could see the ruddy red rock of forming stalactites along the entire roof of the structure that hung down nearly far enough to touch the tops of the dome lights. His throat tightened they ran past another metal wall, this one still emblazoned with the original paint a large white and orange ‘O’ with a hastily red spray of paint in the shape of a penis and balls. “Overwatch,” He gasped out, feeling the affirmation well inside him.

Hanzo slowed. He allowed Jesse the moment to take in the scrap before continuing to pull him along. They did not have the time. To their left, behind a large wall of crates, a door crashed open, swinging wide and slamming into the wall beyond, followed by the loud whoops and yells of the Alphas.

“Call the boss!” The lead Alpha barked out the order. “Tell him what’s happening. You three, scatter! Find him. Shoot on sight.” The Alphas gave an affirmative grunt as they loudly clomped against the concrete floors.

The sound of their shoes slowly faded, heading the opposite direction from where they came. For now, they were safe.

Hanzo looked back at him and then looked up. McCree’s gaze followed. Above them rested a metal catwalk, meant for maintenance. Hanzo pointed, first up, then to himself. Jesse nodded in agreement.

Three blasts of a semiautomatic echoed off the ceiling as the lead Alpha began to shout. “McCree, we know you are here! If you surrender now, we won’t kill you!” He said it with sincerity as if McCree would believe for a second that it was the truth.

Another Alpha bayed and laughed loudly. “Come on, McCree. We got your little Omega here. He is all wet and ready for your big old knot!” A chorus of laughter followed the lewd comment.

Hanzo rolled his eyes. Slowly, the archer reached into his side pouch and pulled out the small ear communications, setting one in Jesse’s hand before placing one in his own ear. Silently, he pointed to his own ear, tapping twice against it before he turned and at the metal support beam. Jesse could only marvel at how easily the archer could grip the sheer metal pole and scaled up to the catwalk in a matter of seconds only to disappear from view like a damn gecko.

Jesse rolled the earpiece in his fingers before he placed the hearing device in his own ear and double tapping it just as Hanzo had done. Static followed in the silence. Damned thing, he cursed. Of course, Overwatch would have lined the base with magnets to cut out any technology that was not theirs.

It was not a total loss though. He could still make out the heavy panting of Hanzo in his ear as the other ran to take up a position. “Testing, do you read?” Jesse whispered. He crouched down into the shadows of the garbage. No immediate answer. He would wait. He drew Peacemaker and opened her cylinder.

Six bullets. He nodded in approval and held her in both hands, ready to fire.

“Affirmative,” Hanzo’s voice wafted in behind the static. “Give me a status update, McCree.”

“Full cylinder,” He breathes out, barely above a whisper. “What’s the count?”

“Five,” Hanzo stated. “They have split apart. The lead is staying near the exit. The Omega is with one of the Alphas. None are close to your position. They all possess a firearm except for the Omega. Three of the Alphas are in a rut, remember. Be careful to not engage.”

Jesse closed his eyes and tried to think back, picturing all of them clearly in his mind. The Omega would be the easiest to disable. He barely had enough meat on his bones to keep himself upright. It would be a trick of separating him from the Alpha. Even then, he could be taken out with non-lethal means.

Three rutting Alphas were a much more difficult task. The aggression of Alphas was legendary. The increased aggression that came from their territory being infiltrated would have already made it a challenge. To add on top of that unfocused, possessive nature the need to mate and knot…

He had witnessed it before, a strung out Alpha, high on Omega pheromones go absolutely insane with anger. The man frothed at the mouth and beat in a wall to get at Jesse. Even a bullet to his gut seemed to have little effect on his stampede. In the end, he had to unload his whole cylinder into the bastard. Alphas in their rut were like tanks. Big, lumbering and absolutely unstoppable without meeting them with your own show of brute strength.

Usually, it ended with them having to be put down instead of captured.

The last Alpha though…

That was the one he had to look out for. An Alpha in rut had a different brain. They rushed heavily into battle with a war cry and without a thought to the consequences. They were terrible at stealth and could not be depended on to hold back.

But that last Alpha still had his brain. In the midst of everything, he would use that to his advantage. He would keep his distance and would be more cautious than to brandish a weapon. He would slink around in the shadows, letting the others do the hard work for him. Wear Jesse down until he was too tired to fight back.

“Hanzo, you see the leader?” He asked.

The line was silent as Jesse knelt in the shadows, watching for any movement that would give away his location. “Negative,” he finally stated. “From what I can tell, he is not near your location. I will inform you when I spot him.”

Jesse nodded, tapping once again at his earpiece and muted the line. Relief spilled over him as the insistent hum of the static was cut out of his mind If Hanzo needed him, the line would come back on, but for now, he listened.

The silence was a blessing. He took another deep breath and focused on the room he was in. It was just another makeshift box room like the others, with two exits on opposite sides. What he did not want was the Alphas coming to him. It left him far too venerable, even with a sniper in the rafters.

What he needed was cover. Both hands gripped the red wool of his serape and pulled it off. He draped it over a set of boxes before perching his hat on top. Of course, hearing an Alpha unload their entire weapon into an effigy of him would pinpoint their location just as well.

Jesse rolled his shoulders back, already he felt more nimble. Quietly, he upholstered Peacemaker, letting his fingers slowly caress the embossing on her side and found his peace. He crouched as he stepped deeper into the maze.

___________

From the rafters, Hanzo watched as Jesse slinked into the shadows with more grace that a man of that size should have. Thus far, he had seen the gait of them as he meandered, with loud stops and slow movement. All, it seemed, was a ruse. The communicator went silent but did not give the telltale beep of being shut off.

Foolish.

He crouched down against the metal catwalk and unloaded a thin arrow from his quiver and twirled it in his hands, testing the weight and balance.

Satisfied, he reached back into the quiver to where he kept his spare parts, pulling out a slightly larger nock for the back. It was a prototype he had been developing and he still was not pleased with the final results. It was still too heavy and caused his arrows to waver in the air and lose much-needed momentum. His shots were less accurate and held less power, but for what he required, he did not need much power. He needed distance. He slipped it over the back end of the shaft, until the electronic click was heard, securing it into place over the original nock.

Hanzo balanced the piece in his hand and frowned at the added weight at the back end. It was not good, not nearly as effective as his other projectiles, but it would have to do. He would have to recalculate as he fired.

Below, the Omega walked towards his position with one of the Alphas. He had spotted them first and currently, they were the largest threat to McCree. Of course, it was difficult to miss the ruby red cowboy hat with the glimmer of rhinestones catch the overhead lights and twinkle.

Neither one seemed to be aware of their surroundings. Instead, they spoke loud enough that even from his position, Hanzo could make out some of their heated words. The Omega reached out, grabbing his Alpha’s arm tight and pulling himself against his side only to have the Alpha snarl and push him away before gesturing wildly. The Omega turned away with a pout, crossing his arms over his chest.

It would be easy to just snipe the Omega here and now, he mused, but there was no point. The boy did not possess a weapon. And killing him would do nothing at this point but enrage the Alpha more. Then the threat of rutting Alphas would become more extreme. They would know he was there. He still required that element of surprise.

Hanzo notched his weighted arrow and let it fly into one of the crates above the pair. Neither took notice. He switched the frequency on his earpiece and the crackle of static greeted him once again, followed by the slight whine of the Omega.

“I told you, Nathan,” The Omega drew out the whine again as he clung to the Alpha. Hanzo gritted his teeth at the childish display. Already his voice grated on his last nerve. “I didn’t let McCree follow me.”

“Really? How were you so sure?” The Alpha, Nathan, snarled and pushed him away again. And again, like a cat, the Omega slunk back “You were too heat addled to know a knot from a bedpost!”

“That bitch told me he left early in the morning. He left the whole bag of cash there too. What kind of man leaves that much money behind if he don’t know what’s up.” Jack turned on his heel and stalked a foot away, still within arms reach of the Alpha. “I went up to that room with Birdy and it was trashed. There was no sign of McCree or the assassin!” He stopped and turned. “What if McCree killed him?”

Nathan let out a predatory growl and pulled Jack back roughly. He nuzzled against the boy’s neck, scenting him. “Then explain how the boss is still in contact with the assassin then, huh?”

“McCree is a fuckin’ magician,” The Omega hissed. “In the car, he showed me some of the things he could do. He is a fuckin’ cheat and a fuckin’ swindler. Don’t ya think he’d’ve lie to the boss about bein’ in Santa Fe?”

“That’s what the assassin is for. Ta’ make sure he is in Santa Fe-”

“But he ain’t in Santa Fe, he’s right here,” He punctuated his words by pointed to the spot they both stood. “He’s gonna blow our frickin’ brains all over the pavement!” He Omega hissed out. “This is what happened: McCree kills the assassin then drags his corpse outta the whore house and dumps it somewhere. Then he uses the assassin’s shit to contact the boss ta make him think he is in Santa Fe-”

“So he could trail you back here and slaughter us,” The Alpha growled low.

The omega went quiet as the Alpha spoke, bringing his argument right back to him being the cause of McCree being here. And again to where he was to blame for everything. Jack looked down at his hands. “Or...they left together?” He mumbled out and stepped away. His hand twirled something on his finger absentmindedly.

Nathan snatched the cowboy hat off the boy’s head and smacked him across the face with it. “The boss’ top dollar assassin just happened to see McCree and went ‘I wanna tap that’ or some shit? Have you seen McCree?” Hanzo frowned as the Alpha continued his tirade. He pushed the Omega hard and the boy collapsed to the ground. He stopped pacing and glared down at the small Omega, his back exposed. Hanzo reached into his quiver and notched another arrow. He took a breath, centering himself. “Boss was right. You are an idi-”

One streak of blood splattered across the Omega’s front and painted his shirt red. The boy blinked slowly, looking at the Alpha before him, then down at himself.

For his part, the Alpha let out a guttural final gasp of air before taking a step clumsy step forward and collapsed into a heap at the Omegas feet. The gun clattered loudly against the concrete as his body twisted and writhed before going completely still.

The Omega screamed.

__________

Jesse winced as the piercing shriek of the Omega drilled into his heart. Dumb kid. Dumb dumb kid. He blinked back the wetness at the corners of his eyes. This was his choice, he reminded himself. That kid was not an innocent bystander. He was not just some pawn used by these older Alphas…

The hard stomp of boots came from behind, growing louder and louder. Jesse slipped further into the shadows, feeling his heart thump loudly in his chest with each heavy footfall. He could gag on the thick, heady musk that suddenly permeated the air. The musk of an Alpha marking his territory.

Their Omega was in danger. The instinct was to protect. An Alpha ready to protect--ready to defend a bed partner was dangerous. Jesse knew this from experience. Tunnel vision was what he had to rely on. He had to hope that the Alpha would rush on ahead without feeling the need to stop and look for the intruder.

He dipped into the shadows just in time as the Alpha rounded the corner. He let out a snarl as he barreled past, panting and grunting hard, drool dripping down his jowls. Jesse pressed himself into the shadows deeper as he held his breath, waiting for him to pass. He was a strong man, he knew that. He would fight him if he needed to, but--

The Alpha stopped. He turned, nose up in the air as he took one long sniffed. “McCree,” He snarled, shoulders hunched as he lurched forward, like a rabid dog. His eyes locked on Jesse’s hiding spot.

Panic rolled through his stomach. His palm sweat as he gripped Peacekeeper tight. His back pressed against the rotted wood of the crate as the Alpha advanced. His arm swung wide, leveling the shotgun one-handed and trained onto McCree.

Jesse dove forward, rolling away as the crates behind him exploded. Birdshot tore through the soft wood like it was flesh and the structure creaked once before collapsing in a thunderous boom.

He raised Peacemaker leveling her off as he rose up onto a knee as he came out of the roll. His mechanical hand moving swiftly.

Onetwothreefourfivesix.

The Alpha stumbled, knocked back by the momentum of the bullets through his charge. He took a heavy step forward, then another as his eyes watched Jesse in confusion. It was as if his brain had yet to register that he was dead before he tottered again and collapsed.

Jesse swallowed as he pushed himself to stand. His eyes never left the body in front of him as he tentatively took a step forward, almost afraid it would suddenly reanimate and grab him. He nudged the shotgun away before kneeling and checking for a pulse.

None

He breathed.

Quickly, his hand flew to his belt and to the pouch to reload. Dread spread through his core and he withdrew his hand and pulled out the remainder of his bullets.

Three.

He cursed.

Ahead of him came the ratta-tat-tat of machine gun and the light tink of bullets ricocheting off of the catwalk. He looked up, watching the little sparks fly as the gun sprayed wildly above.

Hanzo.

Two were dead then, he would gather. Two Alphas down, three left.

He reloaded the three bullets into Peacekeeper and grabbed the rifle. He knelt by the dead Alpha and patted down his sides, looking for any extra firepower. Anything at all to help them in this fight. He frowned as he came out with only a small switchblade knife.

They had lost their element of surprise. Anyone worth their weight would recognize the telltale sign of two assailants. He frowned and stood up. His Alpha needed him.

_______

Pain radiated from his thigh. A stray bullet had grazed along his skin as he tried to roll away from the heavy gunfire. Hanzo tried to find cover from the onslaught of bullets that came from below while tying a scarf around his bleeding limb.

The Omega had not stopped his screaming in this entire time. Instead, he continued to wail loudly as he brandished the dead Alpha’s minigun and fired wildly into the air, creating a maelstrom of bullets and shrapnel.

His brain told him to run. To dive off the increasingly unsteady catwalk and take his chances with the rotted wooden boxes below. He winced again and gripped his thigh tight, trying to stop the pain that proved that theory would not work. He could barely walk or stand on the limb, let along run and jump.

McCree was still radio silent, though if the loud blast of a shotgun was any indication, he was having his own troubles elsewhere. This would have to be something he finished on his own.

He had been in tighter spots before, he reminded himself. This was nothing new. This was just...difficult. With any luck though, two of the Alphas were dead. Their odds were looking better.

The bedlam of bullets ceased. Below he heard the click of the empty magazine and he allowed himself the opportunity to run. Pain radiated up his limb, but he could not focus on that now. He could not afford himself feel the hot and angry protest from his leg. He had to escape. He had to get away. The blood pumped loudly in his ears. From the distance he could hear something...was it McCree?

‘Wumph!’ He cried as something large caught him around the middle and sent him crashing down to the jagged metal catwalk. He did not have time to process. Did not have time to raise his arms and catch himself as something impossibly heavy smashed into the back of his head.

Stars floated in front of his vision as he pressed his hands into the metal, feeling it cut further into his skin as he attempted to sit up. He attempted to recenter the world. Above him, something--no, someone--dropped down heavily, again forcing out all the breath in his lungs and knocking him back down.

A snarl from behind confirmed it as Alpha. He wrapped his thick, meaty arm around Hanzo’s neck as he pressed all his weight into the small of his back and arched his back, cutting off the air and blood to his brain.

Tears welled in his eyes and blurred his vision as he clawed at the flesh arm, scratching deep, bloody grooves into the unrelenting flesh. He bucked his hips, trying to throw the larger man off to no avail. He felt the pressure around his throat intensify. He gasped for air that would not come.

Below him the Omega let out another cry of indignation as the loud rat-a-tat-tat of the minigun continued, bouncing off the rafters below him.

He snarled as another bullet whizzed by him. Inside his body, he could feel the swelling anger of the twin dragon spirits as blue lightning crackled over his skin. The familiar rise of the hairs on the back of his neck and the pungent smell of ozone permeated the air.

The grip around his neck loosened a fraction. Hanzo growled loudly at the loud gasp of surprise as the clouds of his tattoo seemed to roll. The loud crack of thunder followed as blue electricity began to flame and ignite.

Hanzo pulled in a deep gasp of fresh air as a quiet calm descended over him as he felt his guardians awaken. He moved as the dragons commanded him now as if he were possessed by those ancient spirits. He ducked out of the hold and kicked back on the knee on his left. He heard the satisfying crunch of bone and cartilage under his powerful leg as it buckled backward unnaturally.

The Alpha crashed on top of him, howling in pain as he scrambled again to contain the assassin. Hanzo moved quicker. He gripped the man’s arm tightly in his own and rolled them to the right, refusing to let him go.

He rolled until the Alpha was directly under him and the catwalk fell away. Still, he held on tight as they fell.

The Alpha absorbed the fall as they hit the topmost layer of crates with a loud grunt as the wind was knocked out of him from behind, and Hanzo impacted him from the front. The boxes creaked ominously before collapsing again. And again.

Still, the fury of the dragons grew. They crackled and kissed and threatened to break free with every plunge downward they took. He had no weapon. No conduit to force them out of. Nothing to expel the surge of energy within his own body. Hanzo gasped, his heart threatening to explode in his chest as the pair spiraled to the ground.

The final impact left him nearly vibrating. The pain of the bullet wound was long forgotten, as was every other civilized part of his being. He was enraged. He was that gripping, seething ire. He was that hissing, crackling violence.

He stood, proud and regal, like the prince he was as he stared down at the simpering Alpha. He moved swift, grabbing the man by the throat and spinning him around until he had him in a bind. The coils of the tattoo wrapped around his thin neck, squeezing tightly as the dragons hummed of their approval. Unworthy. Undeserving. Unfit.

He squeezed tighter, reaching around to grab his own bicep and lock the man in place before wrapping his other arm around the back it the man’s neck.

The Alpha wheezed. His large hand reaching back, futilely trying to strike Hanzo. To get him off.

The dragons were not satisfied. He felt the raw anger course through him as his knee went around the man’s middle, holding him fast to not buck him off so easily.Tighter...tighter he squeezed around the Alpha as the blue light gleamed off his pale skin.

In his rage he could see it, the twin spirits snarling and foaming, releasing themselves from the confines of his skin as he squeezed tighter. The man’s features contorted, going from red to purple. His tongue lolled out of his mouth as he grunted and gagged for air

The twin deities encircled the man’s throat, snarling out their own furor as they wound themselves tighter and tighter, compressing his neck until he felt it.

The pop.

The Alpha’s eyes bulged. They twisted up into his head and he tumbled forward. Heavy. Hanzo released him. His body fell forward, hitting the floor with a loud thump.

Hanze felt the sweat pour from his face as his arm tingle in the aftermath, slowly the tempest on his arm quelled. The blue lights fading and left him heavy with exhaustion. Arrows had always been the conduit. Never had his own body be used by the spirits in such a way. His arm fell to his side. Heavy.

Suddenly, the pain washed back over him. His back throbbed. His arm numb. His leg on fire. His lungs ached with the effort of trying to steady his uneven breath.

The hollow click of metal turned his gaze.

“Fucker,” The Omega stood there, not a foot in front of him. His teeth gritted tightly as he snarled out. Fat tears rolled down his cheeks as his face distorted with fury. Hanzo’s eyes though were on the barrel of the shotgun, aimed right at his chest with both his shaking hands. “You--” He gnashed his teeth, jabbing the weapon forward. “You--”

He laughed. Hanzo felt the slow chuckle rise from his chest and felt the irony of it all. The humor. Master assassins had been sent to eliminate him. Men and women trained by the Shimada Empire themselves. Alphas and Omegas were paid handsomely for his head on a platter. None of them came this close to capturing him. None came this close to eliminating him. Now, a boy with sequin boots and cut off shorts had the honor of sending him to his grave.

He could not fight back. He was too slow now. Too haggard.

The metal click on the pump action shotgun loading the bullets into the barrel registered in his brain as the boy’s hands shook. He slowly closed his eyes. “I ain’t gonna--”

The world exploded as the shot rang out, echoing off the walls and drowning out every other noise. He waited to feel the bullets tear through his midsection. He waited to feel the collapsing of his lungs and the darkness that would inevitably follow after.

No further pain came through. A shuffle of boots, followed by the familiar jangle of gold spurs. Two hands on his face, one flesh, one metal. He opened his eyes.

“Yer hurt, Darlin,” came the soft cooing of Jesse McCree. Jesse. He knelt in front of him, face ashen as his gaze flickered between Hanzo and the thing to his left.

Hanzo tilted his head, looking down at the crumpled body of the Omega that lay in a heap on the cold, concrete ground. He took a slow breath in, “Thank you,” He hadn’t meant for his voice to sound so shaken. He did not mean to feel so completely...depleted.

“Ain’t no thing,” Jesse whispered back, pressing a single hard kiss to his forehead. Hanzo could feel the wild, erratic heartbeat pounding through the other’s chest. “Yer hurt,” He repeated.

Hanzo gave a single nod. “Nothing serious,” he said. He reached up and tapped the comm in Jesse’s ear. “Don’t turn me off,” He whispered.

Jesse snickered. “Naw, I’ll just turn you on and keep you there.” Another kiss fell on his temple. “Get yerself somewhere safe. I don’t want none of yer heroics.”

Hanzo nodded. “I will be your eyes,” He looked up to the rafters above them. Stormbow lay perched precariously on the edge of the railing. It looked undamaged.

Jesse stood. He reached out and pulled Hanzo to his feet gingerly. “Can you manage?”

Hanzo nodded once. This was far from the worst injury he had received. His arm prickled as if he had fallen asleep on the limb and it had been cut off from the natural blood flow. He flexed his fingered and nodded before moving over to a set of crates that still scaled up to the ceiling. He gripped them. It ached. Everything was sore, but he could make it back up there with little problem. It would then be a short leap to make it back to the safety of the catwalk.

There, he could tend to his wounds in peace. He could be Jesse’s eyes and ears. Whatever he needed. He could look after Stormbow and Jesse. He could be safe. He moved slower than normal, carefully moving to grip each handhold and pull himself up with a hard grunt of air. He rested at the top before taking a running leap at the catwalk.

He grunted as he gripped the metal and struggled to pull himself up fully. It was not his usual grace, but he gathered he could be given a reprieve of his dexterity seeing as his leg was bleeding harder now and his muscles protested every action.

“You know,” Jesse hummed his voice barely above a whisper through the comm. “I take back the gazelle comment I made earlier. Yer a damn gecko, you know that?”

Hanzo chuckled and settled himself back, now able to watch both sides., “Mr. McCree, I am nothing short of a dragon.”

________

Jesse had little time to worry further about the archer as he raced away from the bodies of the Omega and Alpha. The final, remaining goon would be there soon to investigate. He did not want to be there when that happened. He tapped against his comm twice and heard the shallow grunt of the archer. “How ya holding up there. Sweet Pea?” He whispered.

A long sigh blew through the piece before he spoke. “I would not be much help currently if you needed hand-to-hand combat.”

“How bad?”

“I have a small medkit with me. It will treat my wounds well enough. I promise you I will not bleed out.” That did not answer his question at all.

Jesse chuckled though, keeping up the appearance of being good-natured., “Darlin’, I figured it would take more than a few measly bullets to put you down.” It was a relief to know he would not bleed out, but he knew a small kit would not mend all his injuries.

He turned a corner and skidded to a stop as the pungent aroma of fear bore down on him.

“Halt,” Hanzo ordered. “Turn back and go fifty feet then turn to your left.”

He gave the affirmative and turned back the way he came, taking the left Hanzo ordered him to and allowed the archer above him to be his eyes as he took stock in the information they knew.

First; there had been four Alphas and an Omega in this former Overwatch base. That appeared to be the extent of the manpower here. Judging by the disorder of the warehouse he was in, this place had been abandoned by Deadlock some time ago due to probably a police raid of sorts. That meant at the very least that if they managed to call for reinforcements, there was a chance it would take several hours for them to arrive.

Second; the goons here were the same goons that he sat with inside the back of the van. Even if memory failed him on what the Alpha’s looked like, the Omega was clearly the same boy he brought to Bernadette’s. That meant that their boss was definitely the Man in Black and that said leader would arrive here soon. With any luck, he would be at least an hour away and arrive without reinforcements.

Third: Three of the four Alphas were dead. The Omega as well. It left them with only one mark left. His odds had greatly improved thanks to the assassin in the wings. He no longer needed to worry about a wall of muscle charging towards him in like a bull hopped up on steroids. Instead, he had to deal with an Alpha working with all his mental facilities.

Fourth: He could not rely on his assassin anymore. Hanzo was out for the count at this point and if he let himself be known, he would be an open target for anyone to pick off. Hanzo admitted to the bullet piercing his thigh, though he did not mention the twenty-foot drop to the floor. Sure, wooden boxes were there to soften the blow, as well as the Alpha’s body below his, but it still had to have left a huge mark. The medkit would save him from bleeding out, that was about all it was good for at this point.

“Target is sweeping towards our entrance,” Hanzo stated, matter-of-factly as if he were speaking about road conditions or the weather, not a professional gangbanger. “He has picked up on your trail, I believe.”

“What else do your elf eyes see?” Jesse mumbled and slowed his pace.

“He appears to be speaking on his phone,” Hanzo stated. “Hold on.” He heard Hanzo grunt loudly, followed by silence.

Jesse looked down at Peacemaker and counted the two bullets that remained in the cartridge, hoping for miraculously more firepower than what he had. It was foolish of him to assume that this tunnel would have led them nowhere and nothing would come of this expedition. It was even more foolish to assume his side pouch had been restocked since his last mission and not check to see if he had enough supplies.

He should have shot the kid once. He shouldn’t have wasted the ammo, but seeing him there, standing over Hanzo and ready to kill while the other looked so...exhausted...

He did have two flashbangs (old), a medkit (expired) and a black, foldable knife took off a goon and had zero knowledge to its upkeep, though his best guess was dulled down and mostly useless.

“I can hear the final one,” Hanzo stated and went silent again. “He is standing below my current position. He has contacted your Man in Black and has told him that you are here right now. He still believes the Omega led you here.”

Jesse crept along the boxy corridors, leading with his weapon. “Good, let them think that. It keeps them from lookin’ for you. What’s he askin’ for? Backup?”

“No,” Hanzo hummed. “He wishes to leave. He is demanding the man on the phone get there quicker and remove him from this place. He is panicked.” He was quiet. “He has several guns though. And armor.

“Good,” Jesse grumbled out. “Let him be afraid. He should be afraid,” Jesse felt the itch of red swallow his vision. He shook it clear of the polluting thoughts. He could not be clouded by rage. He had to remain calm. “Body armor?” He asked.

“Black. Military grade, from what I can tell. He is covered head to foot. Your weapon would be useless.”

Wasn’t that the truth. Jesse groaned and rubbed his eyes, purging away the red that threatened to swallow his vision. “No guns then.”

“Stay cautious, Cowboy,” Hanzo growled out.

“Ain’t I always? No one ever got the drop of Jesse McCree,” He teased and rounded another corner.

His heart walloped in his chest. In front of him stood another figure in the shadows, tall and dark. Hunched over so he could not see Jesse. Another assailant that he had not accounted for. When were there six? Of course, there may have been others in the building. Why didn’t he account for that?

His gun flew out. He lined up the shot. Hanzo’s voice trembled in his ear as red lined his vision. His finger gripped the trigger, firing once into the figure, hitting him square in the head, knocking the hat off his head to roll onto the floor.

“Idiot!” Hanzo’s words hissed out as he looked in shock at the beaten, brown Stenson that flopped off the being and rolled to his feet. A familiar Stenson with bullet motifs and a shield. His hat. His serape. His gear. The pile he had left of his things because they were too loud and he did not wish to be caught.

The irony of it all.

He cursed and ran back the way he came, speeding past the broken boxes and scattered garbage as Hanzo’s voice continued to berate him through the earpiece as he directed him into an enclosed corridor.

“Why would you shoot your own things?” Hanzo spat.

“So sorry I decided to not think about it and just fire on the human-shaped object in the corner,” Jesse retorted. “Next time I’ll pause and wait for a bullet in by gizzard before I return fire.”

“He is-” Static billowed from the earpiece as a loud pop crackled along the room. His left hand drooped uselessly at his side, heavy and useless as a loud hum buzzed in his ears. The lights flickered once...twice..then were off.

Seconds later the backup generator kicked in. bathing the already cramped space in an unnatural white light. Panic welled inside him at the loss of autonomy over his side. He tried to flex his fingers and found them completely useless. His arm hand there, dead. Again.

An EMP. A powerful one at that, given how absolutely useless his arm now was. He had little time to be impressed as he held his useless limb to the side of his body as he willed his fingers to move and felt nothing in response.

Deep breaths. In...out…He felt a twinge in his pinky the aching pain of being stabbed hundreds of time in a single location. He could not differentiate if it was from the nerves in his prosthetic or if it were the ghost of his lost flesh. God, It was potent, but not powerful. Above them the lights hummed louder, the golden yellow of the lamps slowly flickered back on dully. Five minutes...everything would feel right again in five minutes...

He thought of Hanzo in the rafters if the bomb had hit him as well, scrambling all his electronics and disabling his legs. Leaving him completely at this man’s mercy if he were caught. The trick then would be to not allow Hanzo to be caught.

He licked his dry lips, swallowing hard as he heard the rushed footfalls of the lead Alpha stomp past him and ebb as they passed, heading towards where he had just come from. Where he just shot his gear. He would find the gear soon enough. Would he be tricked like Jesse had been? Doubtful. The hot bullet hole in the serape would be indication enough that Jesse was near.

He clenched his flesh hand tight into a fist and felt the tension rise up through his wrist, the ache grounding him, bringing him back to reality. He crept out of his hiding spot, as silent as a ghost and trailed behind the remaining Alpha close enough to not lose him.

One bullet.

And one assailant left.

The comm in his ear crackled to life with static before going dead again. Was Hanzo trying to teach him? He shifted his weight forward as the crack of a weapon being fired made his spine go rigid and every hair on his body to rise up. The Alpha had turned. He stood just around the corner. Jesse pressed his body flat against the siding and peered around the corner.

The Alpha stood there, holding the gun in front of him and swinging it wildly as he moved. His back was to Jesse though. On his head was perched and oversized assault helmet that slid down over his features. He pushed it back up with a gloved hand. He turned and the dark black and red insignia shone back. This was gear Jesse knew well. Blackwatch tactical gear meant for stopping riots. While bulky and large, it was able to stop bullets with only minimal bruising to one’s self. Peacekeeper was no match, even if he lined up every shot perfectly, the probability of it making contact was minuscule. Each piece was meant to be built around the officer in mind, to best reduce gaps in the armor. This man though wore some that seemed meant for a person double his size and at least half a foot taller than him.

He holstered his gun and continued forward, slinking in the shadows behind him, just far enough back that the man would never notice him.

Reyes had taught him the weak points of the armor: THere were faults where the body naturally moved. Around the shoulders. Behind the knee. Just under the jaw. Thin seams where a bullet would still be stopped, but a good knife...

The comm crackled to life again with another dark haze of static. The Alpha stopped at a cross-section of the hall and looked both ways before going right. Jesse continued on behind him.

He attempted to flex his fingers again, just like how they taught him in PT. He diverted his mind. He tried to keep calm. It was a long hard road, learning to think of his prosthetic as his arm, but one that could crush a man’s skull like a melon if given the correct pressure. Mornings were spent with Angela or other nurses, learning again how to manipulate the world around him like a toddler would. Reeha had been especially kind with bringing him in alphabet blocks to use as a way to relearn his dexterity.

Afternoons though were spent in that shitty dark room where he was expected to talk about his feelings and why things upset him. He was supposed to learn healthy coping activities to regulate his volatile mood shifts. The shrink made it a point every damn day to point out all the reasons why he would never return to running black-ops missions even though Reyes contradicted them all.

The Alpha bayed loudly. The loud blast of the gun sounding over and over as he fired blindly down a hall before tossing the weapon aside and pulling another from his belt. The clattering noise made for a perfect cover.

Jesse sprinted forward. His metal arm banged loudly against his leg, sending bolts of pain through the limb as he moves without fear of being heard. The gun blasted, again and again, completely unaware of Jesse’s presence. His hand grabbed out the small knife. He flicked it open with his lone hand.

He silently moved behind the Alpha. He grabbed him by the forehead and pulled his head back, exposing the tender flesh of his neck and jammed the knife in. The blade slipped into his soft flesh easily, like cutting into a rare steak. He gripped the Alpha tighter and tighter, holding the other man to him as the gun continued to fire in a wide spray until it clicked empty. He muffled cries of the Alpha gurgled through his through, unable to make anything but that terrible death rattle of a man choking on his own blood.

Make it quick, Reyes had said. There was never a need to make a person suffer in death. Give that final sense of dignity to it.

He pulled the switchblade out, the blood gushed forth like a fountain and hemorrhage down the man’s black suit, pooling easily along the floor. He laid the man down as the final crow of panic fled from his eyes and left him an empty shell.

He sat motionless, gazing past the man that still oozed thick, sticky blood onto the floor. He had watched far too many men die. In the quiet aftermath, he felt the muscles in his shoulders sag. Exhaustion wracked through his body as the adrenaline faded away and left him feeling drained.

Finally, he could breathe. He could take a moment. He could refocus, find Hanzo and flee. He moved back to standing and reached up, tapping his comm twice. The static buzzed quietly, but he could hear beyond that.

“Ha-” His words were stolen away in an instant. White hot light tore over his vision in a blinding blaze and removed him from his sight. His hand instinctively went up, shielding him away as he dropped into a roll.

Another gunshot sounded from behind him. Pain flared through his shoulder as he felt the muscle tear away from the bone as he slammed into the ground.

The world spun out of control.

Chapter Text

Sharp, radiating pain shot down from his shoulder to the tips of his fingers. He panted as he fell forward. Jesse tried to get his arms under him as he crashed down. He tried to push away from his attacker, but his arms failed him. His shoulder impacted first, and the world spun around him. He panted. His breath coming in hard, angry gulps of air as he forced the air into his burning lungs. He tried to blink away the twinkling lights that danced in front of his eyes.

A boot pressed between his shoulder blades and shoved him into the concrete. His attacker chuckled as he ground the heel into his shoulder and pressed against his gunshot wound. The laughter bounced off the walls and echoes back down, louder than life and cruel.

Jesse let out a pained moan. His fingers scrambled to find purchase on the smooth concrete floor as he tried to claw himself away. Panic surged in his chest as bile climbed his throat and burned. His vision tunneled.

“Jesse McCree,” The man laughed louder as he pressed his heel again into Jesse’s back and twisted. An agonized whine fell out of him. “I should have just killed you in that van and saved myself all this hassle,” he let out a long, dramatic sigh and clicked his tongue. “But then, just killing you would not have given me the satisfaction of watching you squirm like the insect you are.”

Jesse took a deep breath in and attempted to even his breath. He had to settle the panic within him. He had to refocus and find his center. He blinked the stars away. Slowly, the world fell back into place. The floor stopped tilting under him and the lights faded back to their natural glow. He grunted and tried to pull away, only to feel the sharp heel dig deeper into his back, pulling a garbled cry from deep inside him.

“So big and so bad,” The man tsked and clicked his tongue slowly. “But I always knew you wouldn’t be able to resist a good mystery. You always were too curious about business that wasn’t yours.”

The stomp on his back made him grunt again as the wind was bashed out of his lungs. He wheezed as the boot nudged against his side and dug under his ribs, threatening to break them. His shoulder pounded and he allowed the foot to manipulate him as he was rolled onto his back. Bleary eyes stared up into the masked face of the Man in Black.

Jesse chuckled. His arms flopped uselessly at his sides as he smirked. “Ya know, I figured it was you,” The voice that came from him held a deep gravel that sounded nothing like him. It scared him.

The Man in Black quirked an eyebrow as he looked down. “Did you now? Did you really, truly think it was me?” He placed his foot back on his chest and pushed.

Jesse let out another grunt as his flesh hand grabbed the black leather boot that pressed down onto his sternum and tried to gain some leverage. His shoulder cried out in protest. His metal arm laid by his side, useless. “You were just too pissed off at me in that bank to be just another hired goon. And ya never left yerself a body at that crime scene.” He smirked. “Kinda made it obvious there.”

Keep them talking, Morrison’s gruff voice growled in his head. The longer you keep them talking, the greater your chance of survival. Precious moments allowed for your enemy to sympathize with you or allow you the time to break free. His mouth had always been his best asset. He knew what to say and when to say it. When to push his enemies right over the edge of sanity and when to pull back and gain sympathy. It had gotten him in trouble before, that was for sure. Never before though had he ever see such simple words infuriated a man so much.

The Man in Black stared down at him with pure contentment. His upper lip curled back as he pushed the tip of his boot harder under his ribs. It pulled another harsh yelp from the prone man on the floor in front of him. Jesse cried out, tears spilling over his cheeks as the breath was stolen from him again. That look though...that dark, ominous look spewed down onto Jesse, almost as if his words left a worse on his soul than any transgression that happened before. As if killing his lackeys were not as impactful as admitting he had known his secret.

His ribs bow inward as the pressure increased. Both hands shot up and he gripped along the ankle, trying to push him off. Trying to save his sternum. He gasped as his ribcage compressed and threatened to cave in.

“The bank robbery?” The man spoke slowly, his lower jaw trembling with the effort to keep his voice slow and even. The calmness and control became more jarring than any madness. He could feel it radiating down, that cold frenzy that bubbled inside that man just behind the mask…”Do you really think all this is over money?”

No. Of course not, Jesse grunted to himself. Keep him talking. Play dumb. Learn what he knows. His mind flew to the man in the rafters. The man with the broken gear and damaged body. The man that would be his only salvation. His eyes shot up to the rafters, looking for any sign of movement. Any sign of the archer. He shook his head. “I…..Blackwatch,” he croaked.

He gasped out, his lungs filling with the sudden rush of fresh air. The man stepped back, a satisfied look fell over his features. His hand moved up and pulled the dark mask from his face, throwing it aside. He smiled down triumphantly.

Jesse swallowed and gazed up into that sallow, sunken face and dark, beady eyes. The man breathed heavily and smiled down at him as if Jesse should have recognized him. As if he believed Jesse owed him a debt. The money had been the trigger to get him in that bank. His bounty was what brought Hanzo to them. Jesse’s brain began to fly as he scooted back and leaned against some of the boxes, getting himself upright. He stared blankly up as the smile faded a fraction. He swallowed the bile back and tried to pinpoint the exact moment he wronged this man.

He panted and felt the cold sweat break out on his brow. He reached up and pressed against his gushing wound to stop the bleeding. The man’s accent was American in origin. Midwestern, if he had to take a guess. The man’s clothes were nicely cut. They would have been expensive, but not opulent. It was obviously not tailored to him. The man was deeply disturbed. That was obvious. Someone that Jesse had wronged deeply.

Overwatch maybe? A foot soldier of some kind? Jesse was never popular among the lifelong military brats who transferred in straight out of West Point-

The man chuckled loudly, throwing his head back as he circled over. “Oh, I see,” He nodded and dropped down next to him. He reached forward and pressed his hand into the bleeding exit wounds and dug his fingers in. “You do not remember me.”

Jesse cried out as the hole in his arm shifted and fresh blood pooled out. Blood. Bleeding. He was going to bleed out. Panic screamed through his body and out of his mouth. He managed to shake his head, “Can’t say I rightly do remember you,” He admitted, swallowing his fear.

“Mmm, I cannot say it surprise me,” He shook his head. “You would barely look at me when you first came. No, you were far too occupied with Commander Reyes.”

Jesse nodded in agreement, his head lolling forward. “I was a right asshole when I joined Overwatch,” He agreed. “Never was nice to anyone.”

The man smirked, “That is a lie. You were sweet on Commander Reyes.” He twisted his finger and pulled another loud howl from Jesse. “I’ve waited a long time to get you here, McCree. I want to savor this moment.”

Savor this moment. Those three words locked into the hollow of his mind. Recognition flared as he looked again at the sharp, pointed nose and puffy, beady eyes. Memories bashed into him like a freight train as he heard that voice hiss those words out over and over again. That same voice that grated on his every nerve and made him go mad. That nasally, haughty voice that proudly proclaimed he would never be allowed on the field again after he lost his arm. That voice that antagonized McCree at every turn of his recovery to the point where Morrison eventually had to step in and call off his dogs.

Unfairly treated.

Jesse freely acknowledged that it was his fault he had been captured. He had not checked his perimeter thoroughly. He had fucked up royally. He was the sole person to blame for the fact that he was caught by Deadlock in the first place. Reyes had briefed him in the hospital after he came out of surgery. Morrison punished him thoroughly during his months of PT for the time and expense paid to go on an unnecessary rescue mission. Both then forgave him and then sought to reinstate him. Jesse’s place was in the field. Reyes and Morrison stood up in front of the council and called him a needed asset to Blackwatch missions. The only thing that held him back was just that signature. That one final hoop to jump through…He needed a doctor’s approval that he was not a danger.

His mind reeled as that voice permeated his brain once again. “I am going to savor this moment, Mr. McCree. It has been a long time due.”

Savor this moment.

“Greer,” Jesse whispered out.

A spark of wonder formed in the man’s eyes and he laughed again. He pulled from his side holster a black pistol and held it out, straight at McCree’s chest. “So you do have the ability to remember the other people,” He snorted and fired.

Jesse gasped as the box to his left exploded. Shrapnel burst past his face and left deep wounds along the side of his face.

He sat perfectly still as the gun clicked and he aimed it directly at his chest again. He could remember him clearly now, though his face still was a muddled blur in his mind. Dr. Preston Greer, MD. Jesse stared blankly into the dull, ashen face that smiled so wickedly down at him. Dr. Greer was the lead for the psychological examinations of high ranking agents. He specialized in PTSD and detecting early warning signs of mental trauma. Well educated. Well spoke. Well respected.

Except Jesse McCree had never met an authority figure he trusted. And this man did not want to earn his respect. He demanded it.

“‘Course I remember the other people,” Jesse gave a half-hearted smiled. He wobbled as he slowly stood, clutching at his shoulder tight. He winced with the effort. “There were lots of us there and I just didn’t-”

He felt the whiz of a second bullet past the side of his head. He shut his mouth. Dr. Preston Greer, MD, with his clean office with leather seats and floor to ceiling books. He would just sit there, watching and waiting for Jesse to be the first one to talk. He would then end the session by walking straight to Reye’s office and demand McCree be taken off any further assignments with a litany of excuses about his mental health.

“You didn’t what, McCree. It is impolite to not finish your sentences,” Greer sneered, his lip curled up over his teeth in that familiar look of disgust. Jesse remembered vividly that sneer. More than anything else.

Three months. That was the total amount of time he spent in that man’s office. Three months. He could not fathom how a man could hate him so much.

Jesse swallowed. “And I was not always the most appreciative client,” He diplomatically finished. He could feel the bold face lie well deep in his gut as the man’s face contorted again with his large, thin-lipped smile. “I should have been more willing to accept your criticisms and worked harder to better myself.”

Jesse came to Overwatch angry. Morrison demanded his physical and mental health be monitored, to be sure none of the other recruits were in danger. He took to Dr. Ziegler’s good nature and warmth easily. Even if she was clinical with her exams, she had a genuine aura of compassion for that skilly whelp she had on her table. She would tease with him and play with him. She would explain every blood test, every exam, every procedure with such accuracy and detail that trust felt natural.

Shrinks, though, fell into their own separate, subgenre of humankind. Jesse had confronted those kinds before. He learned from an early age that psychiatrists were not there to fix your brain, but to pull it apart.

They asked too many questions. They looked for a person’s darkest memories and cheated kids like him. They pulled families apart. Shrinks said they wanted to explore your feelings. To make you better. They just made it worse.

He had trusted that they would make life better for him, so he told them about Abuelita working three jobs and sometimes leaving him alone to take care of his disabled grandfather. He told them about the fact his mama ran away with some guy she met at the casino and she never came back. About summer cookouts when the trailer became unbearable to stay inside. About how awful summers were because at least at school he knew there was food.

And then they took him away. Away from his family and into a place they said was better, but there was no love. No hugs before bed or kisses on scraped knees. No family outings to the store…

“McCree,” The man chuckled. He spoke casually, as if this was just another session, and not like he was twirling the firearm on his finger like an amateur. “You say it with such sincerity. You always were a convincing case. You never once had me fooled though.”

“I admit it,” Jesse flinched away as the spinning gun’s barrel aimed at him. He had to keep his voice even. Not show any of the fear he felt welling in his belly. “I was the worst little shit back then. I was a fucked up mess and I didn’t think I needed the help you were trying to give.”

“Did you know what my initial report said about you, McCree?” He moved fluidly as he circled around the prone Omega. “The very first thing I said to Strike Commander Morrison?”

He shook his head swiftly.

He knew. Reyes shared that report with him. Unstable, unpredictable, a menace to society at large. Greer’s recommendation was intensive therapy. The kind that Overwatch could not supply. But the state penitentiary could.

“I called you unfit for duty,” Greer sneered. “You were a danger to the outfit and to everyone there. And yet...Morrison assigned you to Blackwatch.”

“I-”

The gun exploded again by his head. Jesse covered himself. “I did not give you permission to speak yet, mutt,” Greer stalked forward. Fury clouded his wide eyes as he clenched his teeth together tight. “Every time I turned around, you were there. Glued to Commander Reye’s side. But I held my tongue. His infatuation with you would end soon enough. He would see the dirty stray he picked up did nothing to warm his bed.”

Jesse swallowed. He shook his head. He was not a saint, he never claimed to be a saint either. He was not gifted any leniency when he joined Overwatch. He was to run the same Suicides as every other recruit. His times had to be just as good. And he worked hard at it.

Others spoke often of the attention Reyes gave him. Called Jesse his prodigy, his favorite. Rumors of him sharing a bed with the commander weren’t uncommon either. He was young and small. He never tried to dispel those rumors either. It would do nothing but continue to fan those flames.

He had never thought. Reyes never once tried to be anything but his commanding officer and mentor. Jesse never engaged with any of his teammates sexually. It was too risky. Too dangerous. One tryst with the wrong person would lead them all to know they worked with an Omega.

And while Morrison and Reyes had no problems with equality, it didn’t mean that others would take to him so easily.

Jesse clenched his hands. Cold sweat rolled down his back as he felt his lips growing numb around the edges. He needed a medkit. He needed something to stop the bleeding…

“It was Jack that let a dirty mutt like you into the elite ranks of Overwatch. He passed over countless other men and women more deserving to foster you, a dirty little Omega slut that-”

He shook his head again. “No, I-”

“THAT,” He shouted, silencing Jesse. “That dirty little Omega who would not listen to orders. It was Morrison’s plan though, wasn’t it? To put you into his ranks to challenge him and destroy his reign?”

“Destroy who?” He managed weakly. He kicked his legs out and scooted further back. His shirt was tacky and sticking to his side. The pain was not as severe though, which was worse. He was growing numb and cold.

“REYES!” He bellowed. “Morrison was jealous of him. Reyes should have had that spot. He should have been the Strike-Commander, but Morrison, with his blond hair and chiseled jaw stepped into the light.”

He shook his head again. Reyes didn’t want that job. No one wanted to be Strike-Commander. Sitting behind a desk, listening to diplomatic talks. Needing to be the voice of reason at all times. It was a bad position for Reyes, who would have looked any foreign dignitary in the eye and called him a bastard sonovabitch then walked out.

Morrison contrasted him. He was better with people. Better at maintaining that air of command and calmness that Overwatch needed at the time.

“And it worked. It worked so well. You became the worst distraction in the unit. Suddenly, every story centered around that bitch, McCree. Every mission. Every social event. Every. Damn. Day.” Greer’s shoulders sagged. He shook his head. “I tried so hard to get rid of you through the proper channels, to just prove you were unfit. But they wouldn’t believe me.”

Greer’s eyes moved to the gun in his hand. “You will bleed out in a few minutes anyway. I should be humane though. Do no harm,” He chuckled and looked back to Jesse.

“Wait,” Jesse croaked out. Jesse stopped seeing Greer the moment Reyes realized the doctor held a bias. He had been transferred to another Overwatch shrink, one that spent time working in a juvenile facility. One that worked extensively with gangs and young men just like him. Together they made action plans for recovery. Jesse was able to identify parts of himself he wanted to change and his new doctor helped him control his outbursts. She helped him come to terms with past traumatic events. It took months for Morrison to finally sign the paperwork to allow him officially onto the field.

The grip on the wound began to slip as his muscles weakened. He could not die here. Not now. Not with Hanzo so close by…

Hanzo. He hoped the other had run the moment the effects of the EMP wore off. He hoped the assassin took his escape and was somewhere safe, out of harm’s way. “Why Genji’s brother?” He asked. “Why seek that man out of all people?”

Greer paused. He dropped the gun limply at his side. “You brought in that other,” He growled out. “I couldn’t get rid of you through normal methods and I decided, if you wanted to be the hero so bad, I would make sure you were put into the most impossible situations. There would be no way. No possible way Jesse McCree could charm his way out of a terrorist prison. And then you did. Then I thought, release you to come third world country for several months, knowing you wouldn’t have any supplies...and yet your heats didn’t affect the mission at all.”

Greer sighed deeply. “You excelled through them all. Then came Shimada. This punk yakuza kid who wanted to play hero. I figured, at worst, you would be hindered for months while extracting information and Reyes would move on. At best, Sojiro Shimada would find you and fillet you like the mutt you were.

“And then…” He trailed off and shook his head. And then Genji was attacked. Morrison moved in and took the boy. They rebuilt him, piece by piece…. “I saw the Shimada boy as my redemption. I could mold the perfect soldier for Reyes through this broken boy. Here was a boy who already knew respect. He knew how to follow orders. I knew I could fix him….and then you came along.”

His dark eyes turned to Jesse again, “You told him to not listen to me. To disobey. To undermine everything I was trying to accomplish. But I made progress. I wrote papers on Shimada’s mental vitality and how someone so broken could be pieced back together...and Morrison destroyed those files. He claimed that Genji had to be yet another dirty little secret. Something I was never to talk about. Blackwatch’s new favorite puppet, controlled by Morrison to spy on Reyes. The both of you were Reye’s favorite toys.”

None of that was true. Morrison never spied on Reyes. He never undermined him or questioned him in front of his men. He would have never broken that trust. Reyes respected them both as soldiers first. He trained them. He nurtured them. But never were they his toys.

“I apologize,” Jesse licked his dry lips, pulling in a wheezing breath. “Genji and I both are. We came to Overwatch lookin’ for a fight. I even fought Gabe-”

Greer stalked over to him in three steps, kicking him hard in the side. Jesse groaned as he fell to the side, gripping his shoulder tighter as the blood rushed to this head. “Don’t you dare say his name!” He hissed. He stood silently over him, breathing heavy before stepping back again.

“So...you are using Hanzo Shimada to lure out Genji?” He panted and curled around himself. Peacekeeper dug into his side...Peacekeeper….

“I went searching for the robot,” Greer stated. “But he had taken himself to a life of priesthood,” He scoffed. “He fancies himself a man of peace now.”

Jesse laughed. His metal hand gripped around Peacemaker’s handle. Slowly. “So if I was a Catholic priest and not a bounty hunter, none of this would have happened?”

“I needed a way to draw him out,” Greer spat. “The monastery does not allow actual living things to enter. I needed to get him here. I figured, his favorite Omega getting murdered brutally by his own murderer would be effective. The older brother is just as ineffective. He is somewhere in Santa Fe still, closing in on your position.” He laughed. “Oh well, I guess I will just have to kill you both and make it look like he killed you.”

“All this because Gabe liked us best?” Jesse antagonized him. Hanzo was still safe from him. Hanzo would disappear into the void and this man could never touch him. Genji would never be so foolish to believe Hanzo went after him. There was no connection. No reasoning.

“You were parasites,” He hissed. He began to quicken his pace. “You feed off others until there is nothing left but a hollow shell. That is what you did to Gabriel. You...You cut him so deeply. You are the reason all this happened. He was going to do great things. Powerful things. Then you came along.”

The man spun on him, gun raised again. “He was going to do amazing things! Bring to light the hypocrisy of Morrison! Establish a new world order where he would be king! He was going to overthrow the old!”

Jesse curled up tighter, shielding his face as the Alpha raved, swinging his gun wildly. He had heard those stories in Blackwatch. An uprising happening within. A power move to disestablish Morrison and let the true ruler reign supreme. Rumors of Gabriel Reyes wandering at night through the empty corridors of Blackwatch like a ghost. Rumors he and O’Deorain were working on a genetic experiment to further enhance what SEP did to his abilities. Rumors he had lost his mind.

“He was going to be beautiful. A true fallen angel, walking among us mortals,” Greer’s voice cracked as he spoke so sweetly of Overwatch’s former commander. “Death’s Avenger.”

“But he threw all that away because of you,” A calm set over Greer. Gone were the fury and fire and now he was serene. “You just left him there alone. He did so much for you, then you abandoned him. And I….He would not listen to me...because you poisoned his mind as well.”

Greer took a deep breath.

Jesse held Peacekeeper tight in his hands. He just needed the shot. He needed Greer to stop moving. He could not line up his shot while the world warbled and twisted.

“He is beyond that now. Greater than any of us could have imagined. Did you know he still calls to you? At night I hear it, I hear him baying for you when he thinks no one can hear.”

Jesse blanched. “Gabe is dead.”

Greer stopped his pace. He turned and laughed, spreading his arms wide. “He is now beyond death. He is Death. Gabriel Reyes is-” He gurgled and looked down. Protruding from his chest was the dark tip of an arrow. He garbled again and fell to is knees. He gripped the shaft and fell forward, onto his face. Greer laid, unmoving.

Jesse’s eyes shot up to the rafters, to where Hanzo stood, his bow raised, another arrow notched.

His communicator buzzed. “Is he dead?” Hanzo said.

Jesse nodded slowly. “Yeah. He’s dead. How-”

“I was able to hear you for a while,” Hanzo stated cooly. “And I could hear him speak as well.”

Dread flooded through him. His heart pounded in his chest as he dropped his gaze. Jesse pushed himself to sit and howled as his arm radiated pain again. How long was a while? Jesse’s head spun. It was best to not know when the shot would come.

And it didn’t. Jesse looked up to the perch. Nothing.

“How badly are you injured?” Hanzo asked.

“I’m pretty good overall. May bleed out in the next few minutes though,” He chuckled. “Had worse though.”

“Hmm,” Came a voice, not through the comm. He looked over and found the archer stalking towards him, a medkit in his hand. “I do not approve of the way you fight, McCree.”

Jesse smirked. “I had him right where I wanted him. You just interrupted.” He patted Peacekeeper for emphasis. “Was just about to put a bullet in his brain and you stole my shot.”

“Apologies,” Hanzo set the medkit next to him and popped it open, bathing them both in its golden light. Soothing was the best way to describe the feeling. Like mint washing over your body, leaving it tingling and feeling so much better. “Next time I will not interfere. I will just let you get shot a second time.”

“You did take yer sweet ass time with it,” Jesse grumbled. “You could have shot him anytime before that.”

“As I said, my arrows were damaged,” Hanzo grunted. “I had to repair one first. Then I had to wait for him to stop moving. And then I needed to make sure you were not in line with the shot.” He smirked. “My aim is impeccable, but with a bent shaft it is nearly impossible to hit the mark.”

Jesse smirked up at him. “Yer shaft was bent last night and you had no problem finding the mark.”

Hanzo rolled his eyes and scoffed.

“Did anything of what he said make any sense to you?” Jesse grunted. “Since you could hear and all.”

He shook his head. “To me, it sounded like the ravings of a madman.” Hanzo placed a hand on McCree’s shoulder, his thumb instinctively circling the mark he had made on the other’s neck. “You will be fine.” He stated and stood up.

Jesse nodded. “Yeah, just need a few more moments.” he could feel the warmth spreading down his arm as the med kit worked it’s magic, repairing the damages to his body. “Just gimme a few.”

Hanzo nodded. He stood stiffly over Jesse, looking as if he wished to say something. “You will be fine.” He repeated and headed off.

Jesse laid back, ignoring the bodies around him as he let the medkit deplete itself slowly. His metal hand went up, pulling his shirt back and gazed at the new starburst scar on his shoulder.The skin tightened before his eyes as his cells worked overtime to repair all the damages

From beyond he heard a car roar to life.

He closed his eyes and tried to ignore the twinge of pain that welled inside him as the sound of the car disappeared into the desert. He wanted it to be a rouse, a ploy. He wanted Hanzo to return just...be with him.

He waited. Even after the yellow light faded away and the soothing balm dulled, he waited. He was left alone and cold on the floor, hoping that in an instant, Hanzo would come back and apologize. He would rush to him and hold him and he would never feel this aching emptiness inside him again. He wished to believe that Hanzo went to the safe house. That he gathered their thing and would return in Jesse’s truck. That tonight they could again lay under the stars, wrapped in each other’s arms and forget about everything else.

He waited, hoping for the man to return and knowing that it was not possible. Men like them could not afford those kinds of comforts. Men like him could only get glimpses, tastes of what everyone else was so freely allowed.

He ached.

_________

Jesse reclined back against the warm chrome exterior of the Hypertrain. He was due in Houston in a few hours for a bounty that looked more than just a little appetizing. Especially after everything else… He needed to get away. Away from Santa Fe. Away from New Mexico. Maybe away from everything for a while longer. The news still plastered pictures of him, his bounty had gone up again.

He would have to write to Genji and brag about it some, it was a pretty good story and all, and he was a masterful storyteller. Theft and murder. And although he committed both, he was none the richer for it. Except for maybe…

His hand brushed slowly against the mark that faded on his neck. His only reminder of the man he spent a week with. He regretted nothing he had done and everything he didn’t say.

He tipped his hat forward as the wind rushed past him from above. From sea to shining sea in eight hours without leaving the ground. Wonders never cease.

Chapter Text

Hanzo swallowed back the rising panic that set into his stomach as the train pulled into the Gibraltar station. Inside, his heart pounded loudly as he forced his brain to focus on something other that the single name that repeated with every pounding of his heart.

Genji. Genji. Genji.

A decade. Then, he was there again. Poof. Like a magician, Genji apperated back into existence, forcing Hanzo to his knees before giving him the big reveal.  He was alive. He was well and, most surprisingly, at peace.

The invitation came with his brother’s resurrection: Come to Overwatch. Do good. Be better than what he had been before.

He had wanted to decline the summons over and over. He wanted to wallow in his self pity the duality of the situation.  He had killed his brother, and thus his the last of his humanity to become something beyond a monster…

And yet, he wanted a reconciliation. He demanded peace between them. And Hanzo, for the life of him, wanted peace as well. He wanted serenity and unity. Overwatch seemed to be offering that to him.

He pulled out his phone and scrolled through the series of texts.  Genji, as it seemed, had not changed that much in the decade they spent apart.  He relied still on secrets and double entendres, much to Hanzo’s amusement.

[Genji 20:52]

Sent tickets for the train. Don’t be late.

To Gibraltar

Don’t be late.

[Me 20: 52]

Am I not always punctual?  

[Genji 20: 54]

（￣へ￣）

Sending car

Told them to look for the asshole

I told them they would know you when they saw you

Hanzo smiled at the selfie that came in next. Genji, with his visor off, looking absolutely disgusted at him. That was followed by several more. His coworkers.  A beautiful blond woman and an equally as striking woman with a dark tattoo under one eye. A literal Gorilla (he had been warned). The final picture was blurred. He was unable to make out anything beyond the blur of red across the screen.

With it all, he could ignore his brother’s perpetual use of emoticons instead of words.  Suddenly, he was again sixteen in his room and trading secret stories with his brother. Warmth spread through his being and he felt himself smile again.

He had not talked to Genji since the last photograph came in late that night.  He slept in the train station then boarded the next morning. The accommodations were nice enough, with the complimentary breakfast and the windowed seat, but he could see the station in the distance.  He felt the panic well deeper inside him.

[Me 7:34]

Genji, I am arriving at the station. Do I need to rent a car or will you be there?

He did not trust that Genji would send a stranger to pick him up.  It would be foolish to assume Hanzo would trust anyone, but Genji was an exception.  Panic welled inside him. What if he was supposed to memorize their faces. What if more than one person came to pick him up?

They had to know what he had done to Genji...They had to be aware of his past...what if they resented him?

His phone vibrated. Then again. And again in Genji’s usual string of messages.

[Genji 7:35]

Sent someone

(・ ̫・ )

Hanzo frowned at the emoticon. There was something threatening in the tiny eyes and mouth. He began to type out a response, requesting that Genji come or give him directions. The panic spiked inside him.  He did not want his first impression with these people to be from a stranger.

[Genji 7:36]

(・ ̫・ )

(・ω・)

o(≧□≦*)o

୧☉□☉୨

٩(✪д✪๑)✧

He frowned as the train pulled to a stop. He deleted what he had and sent another message to his brother, asking why the sudden string of awful faces.

The train hissed as it lowered itself to the platform and people began to disembark.  Hanzo grabbed his items and slung his cello case over his shoulder. He stepped onto the platform and followed the path of the people, his eyes glued to his phone as he continued to type up his response with one hand.

[Me 7:37]

Genji, what is the purpose of this? Give me the directions. I do not wish to ride with a stranger. I will meet you at your headquarters and we will speak, brother to brother.

[Genji 7:38]

Trust me, bro!

Just look up

Dummy

(>’o’)> ♥ <(‘o'<)

Hanzo stared at his screen. He looked up just in time to see the crowd part. Time slowed. Across the room stood a man in a familiar brown hat and red flannel shirt. He waved.

A smile broke out on his face.

He was home.

______________

Introductions were made quietly. Genji walked him around this watchpoint, pointing out various things that he could not for the life of him remember.  People’s faces and names blurred and nothing-nothing- was as memorable as that warm hand placed at the small of his back, rubbing soft, comforting circles into his prickling skin.

The scent of sandalwood and smoke and the warm summer mornings enveloped him. Made it difficult to think. To process. What he wanted more than anything was to fall into that scent again and again and again.

Hanzo could not remember when Genji left them. He could not think about how they maneuvered their way here, into this concrete room with high ceilings and cheap carpeting. Somehow though, they crashed into one another there. Mouth meeting mouth. Hands, desperate hands, pulling and tugging until they collapsed into a heap on the bed, the springs creaking under their combined weight.

Never in his life had he experienced something so desperately deliberate.  Each soft caress along his side, bringing him higher and higher into that urgent scent. He buried his nose in the crook of Jesse’s neck, mumbling out his words. His apologies, letting them get lost in the heat of the moment. His tongue traced that faint scar he left there all those years ago.  Still there. Still his.

Until this moment, he had not realized how empty he felt. How drained and famished his soul was for this.

His hands locked with Jesse’s as the larger man rolled him onto his back and sank down onto his length in one thrust causing both of them to cry out as their bodies merged.  The rush of endorphins flooded his brain, knocking out any final, disparaging thoughts and left him surrounded by the strength and heat of the Omega above him.

He could use science and biology to explain it all away. How Alpha and Omega needed to be together. How bodies naturally want to procreate and how touch was so important to positive mental health, but those whiskey eyes on him, drunk on his scent said there was more in heaven and earth than his science could explain.

They moved together, not as a tidal wave, but as the moon pulls the ocean to meet it.

Hungry, delirious cries reached his ears. He knew none belonged to the Omega who sat above him, biting his lower lip and moving so rhythmically slow.  Hanzo could not help himself and allowed those uncouth noises to continue, basking in the effect they had on Jesse.

His hands roamed, seeking out every inch of his chest. Carding through the thick hair and tracing out fresh scars, committing them to memory.  Everything about Jesse was bigger than he remembered. Stronger. More beautiful.

He sat up on his elbows and caught his lips in another kiss. Hungry for him. Wanting to devour every last inch of his Omega. His tongue rolled along the others. It was as if time and distance had not separated them, they moved so easily together.

Too soon he felt the familiar tightening in his belly that shot straight down to his cock. Jesse’s grunts and moans edging him on as the cadence doubled...tripled…His fingers bit into the meaty flesh of his thigh as he thrust harder, his knot catching on his rim with every upward angle until finally, he felt it pop.

Hanzo howled, pulling the other down to meet him.  Teeth met flesh, biting over that mark once again and reopening the scar. Claiming him for all the world to see.

He gasped as he felt it. The scrape against his flesh. The hot breath. The sharp pain as Jesse bit down. A rush. Hanzo cried out again around his flesh as his whole body spasmed, swelling and locking them together.

He cradled Jesse close, not wanting him to pull away. Not wanting him to leave.

Hanzo felt weightless, floating as Jesse dropped on top on him, pinning him into place.  His shaking hands pulled away, slowly stroking along his spine, feeling every ridge and scar as he continued to live in this bliss.

“Damn,”  Jesse groaned and nuzzled against his neck. “This ain’t what I planned.”

Hanzo chuckled.  “No?”

“Meant to yell at you more. Lead you on and make you feel guilty ‘bout leaving’ me in the desert. Instead, I take you to bed right away.”

Hanzo hummed. “This was preferable.”

They laid in silence, feeling each other’s heartbeats return to normal. Explanations could wait until the morning. Right now, he felt the weight of the man above him. The softness of his hair and the soothing scent of tobacco and the desert sun. Everything else could wait.  

For the first time, he did not worry about where to go next or what to say.  He knew that wherever he was, whatever he did, this man would be by his side.  

They were drawn together before. This was not just luck. Coincidences just did not happen.  He was meant to belong here, in these strong arms. Forever.