Chapter Text
Dark silhouettes of heavily armed men paced across the front of the warehouse, transformed as the bay doors slid open and the bright light from within illuminated the black uniforms of the Talon agents. A commanding officer exited the door to bark orders at the men. Hefting up their rifles, two pairs of men headed around the outside of the building, one pair in each direction.
Jesse McCree leaned casually against a tree in the shadows just beyond the reach of the warehouse spotlights, watching the whole affair. He puffed again at the cigar in his hand as he took in the details of the scene. A total of eight men were now patrolling the perimeter, all in pairs. Six left at the front door, likely guards at every entrance point. At least thirty inside, along with two turrets. Four against fifty? Cake walk.
One of the guards at the front stumbled backward, swayed then hit the ground with a heavy thud. His comrades bent over him, shaking his shoulders and trying to determine what had happened. A moment later, Jesse spotted a softball sized object sail out of the shadows toward the Talon agents. With a flash of light and fire, the destruction of the agents was accented with the echo of a maniacal laugh. The uninjured survivor at the edge of the group stared down in shock at the charred and mangled bodies of his companions. Before he could react to what was happening around him, a huge hook shot out of the shadows and pulled the man into the darkness, followed by a loud crack.
Show time, Jesse thought to himself. He put out the cigar on the bottom of his boot, as he pushed himself up from the tree he was leaning against. He crept along the right side of the building while the sounds of battle intensified near the front bay doors. Still in the tree line, he spotted a pair of patrollers rushing down the side of the building toward the commotion. Raising his revolver to eye-level, he stopped the agents dead in their tracks with a bullet to the temple of each man. Remaining in the overgrowth, he continued along his path, all the while watching for the other patrolling pairs. Toward the rear of the warehouse, Jesse spotted a smaller door guarded by four men. Slowing his movement to minimize noise, he crept into position and lined up his shot. He had to take out all four fast enough that none of them had time to get a good shot off on him. Suddenly, the cold pressure of a gun barrel pressed into his side. Shit. Five. He only had four rounds left in Peacemaker.
“Drop your weapon,” the man said in a thick Slavic accent. Thank God. This was so much easier when they wanted him alive, although Jesse had no idea why they kept making that mistake. He guessed it had something to do with Gabe and a nefarious plan he sure as hell wasn’t going to get the chance to carry out. Gingerly, Jesse raised his hands into the air, Peacemaker hanging loosely by the trigger guard around his index finger in what he hoped looked like a non-threatening manner.
“What’s the problem, friend?” Jesse drawled as he slowly turned to face the agent.
“I’m not your friend. Now, drop your weapon.”
Jesse was almost facing the man now. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry. I just…” In the next step of his pivot, he shot out a boot and swept the agent’s feet out from under him. As the man fell, Jesse twirled Peacemaker into position and placed a round between the man’s eyes. He was dead before his body hit the ground. Jesse couldn’t make the mistake of leaving a Talon agent alive; it could mean the life of him or his teammates.
As soon as he fired the shot, he threw himself to the ground and rolled to a new position, barely evading the barrage of gunfire from the sentries at the side door. Propped on one knee, he emptied the spent rounds and reloaded his revolver, keeping his head up just enough to track the guards’ movements. He stayed low and quiet. They had no doubt seen the flash of his firearm, but he suspected they couldn’t see much else in the darkened shadow of the trees. After the initial burst of gunfire, the Talon agents quieted their weapons and listened for signs of life. Sounds of the battle raging inside the warehouse reverberated through the walls of the building. Echoes of explosions, gunfire, and the screams of men added to the tension of the guarding agents. Two of the guards stayed poised by the door and two moved toward the tree line, their weapons raised and searching for movement.
That’s mighty kind of them to split up for me, Jesse thought. The agents in the woods spotted their fallen comrade and warily made their way toward the body. They shouted to their friends by the door, apparently informing them of their discovery. Although he couldn’t understand the language, Jesse suspected the men were trying to decipher whether or not they had been the ones to deliver the fatal shot. Muscles tensing in anticipation, the cowboy slipped a flash bang out of a side pouch and hurled it well past the investigating agents. The agents by the body spun their weapons and began firing at the explosion, leaving Jesse a clear shot into the back of their skulls.
With sound and light coming from three different directions, the agents by the door where unsure where to fire. They shouted for confirmation from their comrades, but the woods had fallen quiet once again. One agent reached for his ear, likely intending to call for reinforcements, but one of Jesse’s bullets sliced through his jugular before the man could utter a word. The other agent had clearly seen where the shot had been fired from, and fired wildly in Jesse’s direction. The cowboy left off a shot before diving out of position again, but the rushed shot was low and ricocheted harmlessly off of the agent’s body armor. Jesse’s body froze, but his eyes darted about wildly, searching for the hat that had flown from his head while he rolled through the brush. He spotted it in a thicket just beyond arm’s reach. The Talon agent by the door began to yell manically into the darkness concealing Jesse. He fired wildly into the trees, hoping to get a lucky shot. The yelling and the shooting ended abruptly, silenced by the cowboy’s careful aim.
Jesse stood up, brushing the dirt from his knees and sighing. His cybernetic hand returned his cowboy hat to its proper position atop his head, then he reloaded Peacekeeper and continued his trek to the back of the building. Carefully peering around the corner, he saw that the backside of the warehouse was abandoned. The other patrols must have run around the left side, drawn by the attack from Junkrat and Roadhog. Backtracking to the side entrance, Jesse eased the door open a crack and peered inside. The warehouse was divided into front and back sections. The front section must have been cleared, because Junkrat and Roadhog were currently attempting to press into the back where Jesse was now peering. The Junkers took cover behind large shipping containers. Their advancement was being hindered by two turrets, each manned by a pair of Talon agents. The commander was also present, shouting orders from behind one of the turret teams. Jesse didn’t see any other agents and guessed they were all that remained of the Talon base. Their last stand.
The various pieces of machinery and crates scattered across the floor hindered Jesse from getting a clear shot on all five men. He quietly slipped into the door and scanned the room for a good perch. Directly to the right of the door was some conveniently placed scaffolding. He holstered Peacemaker and started to climb while the battle raged on below him. As Jesse pulled himself onto the top level of the scaffolding, he spotted the black boots of a Talon agent facing his position. Eyes darting up, he saw the agent’s right hand was clutching a syringed dart that was sticking out of his neck. The agent swayed slightly, then collapsed in a heap. The cowboy pulled himself the rest of the way onto the platform and turned to the direction where Ana must have been to tip his hat in appreciation. He drew Peacemaker and took his time to line up shots on each of the remaining agents. Firing in rapid succession, Jesse took out all five of the remaining agents in a flurry of gunfire. The warehouse fell strangely quiet for a moment, until Junkrat let out a triumphant whoop.
Jesse slid down a support of the scaffolding to join the others on the floor. “Oy!” Junkrat shouted to him, “Did you just fire toward us? What if ya missed?”
“I don’t miss,” Jesse replied, smiling smugly.
Ana climbed out from behind the stack of crates where she had been positioned. “Nice shooting,” she smiled. “You must have had a good tutor.”
“The best,” Jesse said tipping his hat to her again.
Roadhog plodded over to Ana, grumbling under his mask. Reaching behind his back, the Junker yanked a handful of medical darts out of his rear end and dropped them at the alchemist’s feet. “I wish you’d miss,” he growled at her.
Ana chuckled. “You wouldn’t need so many if you didn’t take so many unnecessary risks,” she chastised the warrior. He simply growled and turn toward Junkrat, who was bent over in laughter, pointing at Roadhog’s backside.
“Alright,” Ana interrupted, still smiling, “you two search for any equipment to salvage while Jesse and I search for information.”
Junkrat rubbed his hands together greedily while swiping his tongue along the outside of his upper teeth. “It’s fun bein’ a good guy,” he said, then cackled at himself. “Let’s get to it, Roadie.” He motioned at the front room with his head.
“And children,” Ana called after them, “try to behave.”
“Cross me heart, Gran,” Junkrat replied with mock sincerity, then laughed again as he walked away, Roadhog plodding in his wake.
Ana shook her head as she walked toward a desk with a monitor at the back of the building. The warehouse appeared to be in use as just that: a warehouse. It was likely a place to store gear and equipment until it was needed for Talon activity. Jesse walked around the room peering into crates: body armor, coils of wire, cement mix, paper towels. It was a mishmash of supplies that provided no valuable information on Talon plans or, what Overwatch was really after, the base of operations for Doomfist and Reaper.
“It’s just a monitor,” Ana called from the desk. “There’s no handheld in the synching bay.” Jesse trod over to the body of the commanding officer. He flipped the body onto its back and the man’s lifeless eyes stared up at him, face smeared with deep red from the pool of blood that had puddled from the hole in his head. His face held stone, Jesse grabbed a towel off a nearby shelf and tossed it over the man’s head. He then crouched beside the body and riffled through the man’s pockets until he found a black handheld.
“Ana,” he called, and tossed it across the room to the older woman. She reached up and easily caught the handy out of the air.
“Are you throwing evidence?” she scolded. “What if I’d missed that?”
“You don’t miss,” Jesse said with a grin.
“Pft,” Ana dismissed him with a wave of her hand. “That was before I lost my depth perception.” She smiled to herself as she slipped the commander’s handheld into the synching bay. “The bay is fingerprint protected,” she announced. Jesse pulled a knife from his belt and crouched next to the commander once more. Noticing the uneven calluses, he decided the commander had likely been left-handed, and sliced off the man’s left index finger.
“If you throw that at me, I’m going to dart you,” Ana warned.
“Yes, ma’am,” Jesse chuckled, and strode across the room to the desk. Ana stepped to the side and Jesse pressed the severed digit to the screen, unlocking the docking bay and handy. Then, Ana synched her own handy and made a sequestered mirror image of the commander’s handheld on her own. This served the dual purpose of allowing them to leave the finger behind and avoiding any GPS trackers in the Talon handy. Slipping her own handy back into its pouch, Ana held up the Talon handheld and grinned at Jesse. She tossed it high into the air. Jesse drew his revolver and decimated the enemy handheld, then twirled Peacemaker and holstered it again with a flair.
“Oy!” Junkrat called from the doorway to the front room. “Think we can bring the air ship any closer? We’ve got a lot to load up!”