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Cassidy had always hated Route 66. It had been the place where he’d almost thrown his life away for a packet of cigarettes and a six shooter. And now? It would likely be the place where he died.
In reflection, it was blindingly obvious that they had been walking into a trap.
It was supposed to be an easy assignment. Go in, check out some suspicious activity, and get out. The whole operation had been going pretty well, no shots fired and a couple of solid leads to follow up on when they got back to base.
Then, talon had shown up and it had all gone to shit.
He’d lost sight of Genji and Pharah when the shooting started, and had never truly had eyes on Hanzo in the first place. Given that the coms had gone down; courtesy of Sombra no doubt, he was on his own until the extraction team realised the mission had gone south.
Which lead him straight back to his current predicament of trying to dodge a shotgun blast to the skull.
Because of course, Reaper would be here. The universe always had a sick way of making his life as difficult as possible, as if acting in recompense for the sins of his past.
The creature was faster than him, and twice as skilled, with weapons that required half his accuracy. Those factors made for a deadly combination when it came down to a one-on-one fight, especially when his own gun had but a single remaining bullet. The rest of his ammo had done little to deter the wraith as they danced under the midday sun, the exchange of metal only serving to gift him with a graze to his left shoulder. It was almost as if the other was taunting him, able to end his life with the click of a trigger yet refusing to do so as if they were playing a cruel game.
With a final prayer to whatever god was listening, he fired the final round, aiming straight for the demon’s face in a desperate attempt to end the deadly stalemate.
Time seemed to slow as the bullet glided through the air towards its target, fracturing the owl-like mask as brass met bone. His opponent dropped to his knees; one hand steady on the ground as the other clenched around the hole that had materialised below his left eye.
“This would have been so much easier if you’d just stayed away” the man finally mumbled, voice clearer in the absence of his usual façade.
He felt his heart plummet in his chest as he moved towards the fallen enemy, hand tightening around peacekeeper’s grip in anticipation.
That voice…
It was then that Reaper chose to look up at him, eyes burning black beyond the sea of smoke pouring from the bullet wound.
But that wasn’t possible…
“…Reyes?”
He took a step back, Peacekeeper slipping from his grasp onto the dusty ground below. Within a second Reaper was in front of him, shotgun levelled with his head as a clawed finger danced over the trigger.
“You always did let emotions cloud your judgement”
“You…you died…you fuckin died…” he choked out, unable to comprehend the scene that was playing out in front of him. “We mourned you…we all mourned you!”
Finally, the older man lowered the weapon, a bitter laugh escaping his lips.
“Seems Morrison and Amari didn’t care to share their little secret then?”
He didn’t know how to process that information. Not only was Reyes alive and working with the very organisation he’d once sworn to destroy, but Jack and Ana had been in on it all along.
The whole situation was a total clusterfuck.
“I’ll let you off this time ingrate, but cross me again and I’ll put a bullet between your eyes” he spat, no trace of deceit in his voice.
Without another word, he turned to leave, black coat swaying in the desert wind. The shooting around them had finally stopped, meaning either his teammates had come out on top or…
He didn’t want to consider the alternative option.
Consumed by sudden fury he gritted his teeth, years’ worth of emotional turmoil unleashed at the retreating figure.
“That’s a fuckin lie and you know it!”
The Reaper stopped in his tracks and laughed. It was a harsh and humourless sound, nothing like that of the man he had once known. Before he had time to blink the wraith had materialised in front of him again, scarred face mere inches from his own.
“Wanna test that theory, Cassidy?”
The shotgun was level with his head again, the smell of gunpowder flooding his senses once more.
“You ain’t got the fucking nerve…”
Silence filled the air between them, the sound of his shaky breathing amplified as he stood in defiance under the Reapers watchful gaze. With his final shred of self-preservation long gone, he leaned forward to rest his head against the barrel of the gun, eyes locking with ones that had once been so familiar to him.
“So? do it then”
The Reaper hummed; gun steady against his forehead. He could have sworn he saw a flash of apprehension in the older man’s eyes, but it was gone before he could bring himself to consider the possibility.
Then, as if the whole encounter had simply been a trick of the light, Cassidy was alone again.
He didn’t speak to anyone when he finally made it back to base that night, and if Reinhardt found him passed out at the top of the watchtower, an empty bottle of Bourbon at his side, he certainly didn’t bring it up.