Chapter Text
Mako never really viewed himself as a particularly bad man. Sure, he'd gotten involved in, even started a few, bar brawls, maybe stole the occasional fruit or loaf of bread, but he never really considered himself an extremely bad man.
But of course, desperate times called for desperate measures. He may be a big gutted man, but Mako was not a wealthy man. It was supposed to be an simple one time job, just him, a few other poor sods, and a plan. He was supposed to wait outside the treasury as the other two scurried around in side, collecting handfuls of gold and goods, whilst the last member of their party conducted a distraction.
It had backfired miserably, turns out the bloke who was meant to distract the guards had instead tipped them off, sent them rushing down the halls with clear preparation. Mako had bolted, had to go through a window to get out, thank the stars the treasury had been on ground floor. But, he’d had to leave his home behind, he was surely going to become a wanted man and just about everyone knew where he lived and who he was. It was not easy for a man his size to hide.
He supposes it was either sheer luck, or mercy granted on him from some divine source, but apparently a secret society of criminals were looking for a source of muscle, and he’d caught there interest a few weeks after the heist, several villages away and never planning to stay long. He’d been approached at a bar by a smaller man with wild brown hair, and unreadable blue eyes, a hood over his head and a bandanna pulled up over his face. He plunked down by Mako, wordless and with no effort, he slid something under Mako’s mug, gave him a nod and slid off. Confused and intrigued by the strange man, Mako lifted his mug and took the item, a very finely folded letter, from under his mug, paid the bartender, and left. Once outside he stepped out of public view and opened the letter, it was scrawled in scratchy handwriting, hard to make out in the dark, oil lantern lit streets, but manageable with some effort.
“We’re in need of a man like you, Rutledge. These past few weeks you’ve been gaining popularity with our crowd, big man like you leaves something to be desired for us. We, the criminals of this shit hole, would like you to be a bodyguard for some of the more important figures of our little den, for the right price of course.
If interested, burn this letter and follow the guide. You have until the sun begins to rise.
Don’t disappoint,
The Guild of Rats.”
Mako huffed a bit, his massive form stepping from the ally, glancing up and down the dirt streets, the only sight in the darkness the lantern lights from house windows and hanging in the open streets. Being cautious and slow, he steps towards one of the lanterns in the street, he’s tall enough to open it and stick the letter into the flame. Maybe it’s curiosity, or that deep seated human need for consistent shelter that made him do it, maybe it’s the promise of some form of payment, but by god this sounds like the best deal he’s going to get in his current position. He lets go, and watches the scrap of paper get eaten alive by the dancing flames, before closing the lantern and stepping away. The loud thunk to his left makes him flinch, and he spins fast on his heels taking a swing on reflex and… he hits nothing.
He glances down to see the man from earlier, crouching down under his fist, staring up at him, unperturbed, as he slowly stands back up silently nodding once again, before motioning him to follow and slipping into an ally. Mako only hesitates a moment before following, the journey eerily silent as he’s lead down a twisting, turning path, gradually getting farther and farther from the village.
The area he was lead to was a good distance from the humble placement, enough that no man would actually travel this far to search for something unless desperate, and yet close enough to have a good view of most the housing. It was close to a forest of pines growing mightily and high, and his guide lead him to a small cliff sticking up from the rest of the earth, littered with roots and rocks. The lithe man grabbed onto one of the roots and pulled as hard as he could, and much to Mako’s surprise, a door within the dirt began to slide open to the side, where his guide quickly nodded Mako in before darting after him.
It was extremely dark and cramped, Mako’s form bent at an awkward angle to fit, and for a moment he almost think’s he stuck, before shaking his head at the irrational thought, focusing on other parts of his surrounding, like it smelt mostly of earth, but he also picked up on the scent of something sooty. His guide is quick to produce a source of light, a small oil lantern lit by match. The deeper he went the stronger the smell of fire and ash became, soon, after minutes of walking down the winding path, when torches began to appear, the lantern was extinguished, and slowly the sound of conversation began to reach his ears.
The exit to the twisting path he’d been brought to was a simple cloth draped over a hole, and beyond it was an entire underground society. The people there were all in rags, homes made of sticks to prop up blankets, with pillows and clothes for bedding, set up in outcroppings on the walls, where people climbed up and down on rickety old ladders. The “houses” where circled around a gigantic fire pit, currently alight with a fire that looked ridiculously small in it’s huge diameter. There was music playing somewhere in the far reaches, and as he looked up he could see the roof the cave was opened enough to let the smoke filter out. Through the twisting confusion of the underground village, Mako caught sight of only one single door, rather forcefully jammed into the side of the dirt wall, held shut by several large wooden beams.
He had no time to ask questions, it seems, as he was dragged onward by his guide, deeper into the mass of people, the commotion and bustle of daily life died down as the inhabitants of this underground world stopped to stare at the newcomer among their numbers, and it became eerily silent once again as even the music stopped.
His lithe guide lead him to a much more extravagant “home”, still made from blankets and cloth, but much more homely, looking more like a tent then a temporary covering. His guide steps forwards and pulls one of the blankets to the side, nodding for Mako to enter.
Mako had thought the corridor he’d been lead down earlier was cramped, but this tent was even worse, he felt if he so much as breathed wrong he’d bring the whole thing down on top of him. In his attempt to make sure he wasn’t going to destroy anything, he’s failed to yet notice the inhabitant of the cloth home. Taller than the rest, but still far from Mako’s height, he’s wearing a cavalier with a white feather, a red poncho of sorts wrapped around his shoulders, a lit, black pipe between his lips, a fine sort of beard and dark brown eyes. He clears his throat to catch Mako’s attention, his brown eyes locking with Mako’s, before he nods for him to take a seat.
It takes him a moment to lower himself to the ground without knocking anything over, and though it’s an improvement to standing, it’s still not the most ideal space for him. Such is the fate of a giant among men, he supposes. He tilts his head to the side, cocking a brow at the younger man before him, a silent question as to why he was brought specifically here. The younger man takes a long pull from his pipe, blowing the smoke to the side before leaning forwards offering his left hand for a shake, it's wrapped and bound tightly in bandaging and the fingers seem a bit twitchy. He offers a kind smile to go along with the extended hand “Name’s Jesse Mccree, pleasure t’ meet you.” he states kindly, tilting his head towards Mako. He reaches out to shake his hand, Jessie’s entire hand and wrist being engulfed by only half of Mako’s giant palm (which he could easily wrap around his entire forearm) and he shakes it with a low grunt “Mako Rutledge.” he mumbles out. Once the introduction is done, Mako puts his hand back down on the ground, still staring at him with a blank hard to read yet questioning face.
“As you read in that letter my pardner there gave you, you’ve been acquired for a bodyguard job of sorts, we always need some of those round here. I’m sure you’ll understand how this works, but you start off with the lower down big dogs, and make it up to the top, but to do that you gotta prove you’re loyal, and good at what you do.The Rat himself instructed me to tell you that you’ll be my bodyguard to start off with.”
“The Rat? The fuck does that mean?”
“Now you don’t go worrying about that quite yet,” he snapped back, leaving the atmosphere feeling a lot tenser for a few moments “you just forget I said anything about that for now, got it?” he points at him, brows lowered and hardened, clearly not worried Mako will try anything. In response he grunts and gives a shrug, letting it be know he really couldn’t give less of of a shit. He’s got other, more important things on his mind, anyways, like payment. Which, he’s quick to bring to question.
“Shoot, a man straight to the point. People like you round here, if you’re trustworthy’ enough, get far fast. Now we can’t, for very obvious reasons, pay you in money, but we got food, shelter, safety, and community. We also got weapons for people of your position, and a few bits of Armour we’ve managed to scrap together,” he chuckles a bit “not that we got any in your size, big fella like you!” he reaches out to pat Makos stomach, met immediately by a deep, low growl. Mcree pulls his hands up, a sign of truce and defeat “Now now, partner, no need to be so on edge! Just havin’ a bit of fun, yeah?”
The silence he’s met with is enough to make him sweat. He clears his throat, pulls at the cloth of the poncho around his neck and puffs out a small plume of smoke from the side of his mouth “Right, well, you’ll be stationed outside of my tent, and don’t you worry one bit, you’ll be given quarters close by, sure they’ve got somethin’ special arranged for you.” he offers a bit of a smile, tilting his hat “You’re escort from earlier ‘s waitn’ outside, he’ll take you to your new home. Welcome to the guild, partner.”
Mako gives a grunt in return, and slowly stands up, careful of the flimsy material making up this “house”, and steps outside. Sure enough, the blue eyed, half masked boy from earlier is there, and silently leads the giant of a man a few meters over to another home propped up on sticks with a cloth draped over it, dirty, dusty pink, placed with a goose feather filled, flat, moth eaten pillow on top of a bundle of brown, red patterned blankets. It’s not big, taller and wider than most others, but just barely enough for him to lay down and not cross into another “house”. With a deep, low sigh, Mako lays his head down on the flat pillow, pulls the not quite big enough scrap of cloth over himself, and settles in for the long haul.