Chapter Text
Jesse knew Overwatch’s Swiss base was supposed to be a marvel, fitted with the most recent technology and innovations to serve the largest peacekeeping organization in the world. It had been the only place he could really call home for the last few years, and the one of the only places he got to see the people he now considered family. He cared a lot about the place, though he wouldn’t admit it too readily.
But did it have to be so damn confusing?
He shouldn’t be getting lost just trying to find a practice range, but the place was so big, and he was away often enough that he never quite memorized the layout. It was even more difficult in the middle of the night with half the lights either dimmed or just off. Why couldn’t he get insomnia at a smaller base?
After spending longer than he should have bumbling around, he found a familiar hallway, which led to a familiar elevator (for use by Overwatch agents only) that finally took him down to the practice ranges in the lower levels.
Predictably, none of them were in use. He wasn’t in the mood for anything fancy, just something to blow off steam, so he wandered down to the smaller ranges meant for testing smaller weapons with limited effective range. They didn’t have as much technology behind them for moving targets and projected images either, but they worked just fine for a little target practice.
That’s when he heard something crash, like metal slamming into metal. He pulled Peacekeeper without thinking, realizing a second later it wasn’t even loaded (Last time he walked around base with it loaded Ana had caught him and properly tanned his hide. She wasn’t even in the country right now, but he’d learned his lesson).
He took a steadying breath. This was Overwatch’s main base, watched constantly by AI and Overwatch soldiers alike, on a secure level accessible only by Overwatch agents. There were cameras on him right now, he knew, so he reasoned if whoever, or whatever was watching didn’t think the source of that noise was about to put a bullet between his eyes, he was probably ok.
Still, he wasn’t completely keen on walking around without knowing what was in the room with him. He knew a few ways to see if somebody was in the room with him, but decided to go with the simplest.
“Anybody there?”
Silence. It dragged on long enough to make Jesse feel ancy. He still had an unloaded Peacekeeper drawn, and was debating between taking a chance on loading it or hoping his bluff would hold up when an omnic stepped into his view.
He started, but held Peacekeeper steady. It was hard not to stare. He’d heard of this guy, saved from near death by the magic of modern technology. Not an omnic, but a man with so much machinary in his body he may as well have been one. The majority of his body looked like a machine at this point, with only a partially exposed chest, an exposed left arm, and messy hair sticking out from a face mask that didn’t hide his shining red eyes. They turned on him. It was hard not to tense up even more at that look.
“You make that noise?” Jesse asked cautiously. He hadn’t attacked him, so he risked holstering his weapon. No need to be rude, even if the guy stood staring him down with a death glare and his arms crossed. What was his name again? Reyes had mentioned it, hadn’t he?
For a minute Jesse didn’t think he would answer at all. Jesse never dealt well with awkward silences, and was about to shoot his mouth off in annoyance when the guy surprised him by speaking. Not only that, but he put his hands together like he was about to pray and gave a small bow.
“My apologies. I did not realize anybody else was here.”
The apology caught him off guard. The voice sounded off too, just a little too robotic. It also had a heavy accent. It sounded east asian to him. He wanted to say Japanese, but didn’t have enough experience with the language to say for sure.
“It’s fine, just, caught me off guard a little. I thought i was alone too, to be honest.”
“I can leave if you wish.” He offered cautiously.
“What? No, no, you’re fine, you don’t need to leave on my account.”
Another uncomfortable silence fell between them. All Jesse wanted was to get in a little target practice, but just up and walking away felt rude.
“Don’t think I caught your name, by the way.”
The omnic hesitated, before finally offering “You may call me Genji.”
“Wait,” he exclaimed, memory properly jogged, “Shit, Genji Shimada?” More silence. He could see the artificial muscles tensing up at the name and realized immediately he’d screwed up. Technically Genji’s existence was still supposed to be classified considering the work they’d put into him, but projects that big had trouble staying secret, especially when the project could get up and walk around and talk to people. The details were still secret though, so Jesse wasn’t sure where he’d gone wrong exactly. He hoped he could be tactful enough moving forward at least.
“Sorry, that was kinda rude of me. I’ve heard a little about you, just hadn’t gotten a chance to meet you yet, so I didn’t recognize you on sight.”
Genji continued his stoic silence, leaving Jesse to flail by himself.
“Ang does good work, I know that. Lot of people wouldn’t be around without her. Damn good at what she does.”
Jesse could feel himself start to sweat under Genji’s gaze.
“So, uh, you’re down here late.”
This was his last clean shirt, he’d kept putting laundry off, and now it was coming back to bite him in the ass.
“Here to, uh, practice?”
He’d have to wear this same shirt tomorrow. Somebody was bound to notice it was the same one he’d worn today, and to see the new stains he was probably creating. Maybe if he feigned illness he’d have an excuse to stay in his room all day.
“What do you shoot with? I prefer Peacekeeper here myself.” He patted his revolver affectionately. “Most people say you can’t do any real damage with an old model like this, but, well, I ain’t most people.” He grinned. He was confident in his weapon at least.
Genji’s head shifted slightly and Jesse realized he was probably looking at Peackeeper. Slowly, Genji held up his right arm. He flicked his wrist and little pieces of metal showed up between his fingers. It took Mccree a second to recognize the shuriken in the other man’s hand. They were definitely not big enough to make the noise Jesse had heard earlier, but he was treading thin ice as it was.
“You good with those things, then?” He asked, genuinely confused.
“I used to be.” Genji muttered. “I’m...struggling now. They don’t feel the same.” His voice grew as he spoke, quickly filling with anger and frustration. The red lights in his eyes flashed. Jesse didn’t know how to respond. Even with his limited knowledge on this guys situation, he knew it had been bad. You didn’t replace entire limbs on a whim.
“Maybe you should talk to Ang about that, I’m sure she could help.”
“I have. They perform tests, but none of it truly…” He growled in frustration and muttered something in Japanese. “Testing basic motor skills do not help me learn this body.”
This guy knew how to make Jesse struggle for words, that was for sure. Jesse knew Angela meant well. She cared deeply, and was good at her job, but she got absorbed so easily, it didn’t surprise Jesse to hear her treating Genji like a lab rat to poke and prod at on occasion. He couldn’t imagine how Genji felt, not a true Overwatch agent, or even a real person in most people’s eyes, but a marvel of an experiment in the limits of medical technology. That he confided his frustration so quickly to a complete stranger did not say good things about Angela’s bedside manner. Jesse should probably mention something about that to her at some point.
“Can’t say I know jack shit about this kind of stuff, but if you ever need help with something I can actually do, don’t be afraid to ask.” Jesse was a little surprised at his own offer, but didn’t try to take it back. It looked like Genji could use someone in his corner.
“Well,” Jesse went to tip his hat before realizing he wasn’t wearing it, “i’ll let you get back to it. I’m gonna be shootin’ so I’ll go a few ranges down and give you some space.” He turned to leave.
“Matte.” Genji called out behind him. Jesse didn’t know the word, but the tone was recognizable enough. He looked back at the cyborg.
“You are an agent of Overwatch, correct?”
“That’s right.” Jesse relied slowly, not sure where this was going.
“So you know how to fight.”
Jesse shrugged. “I can hold my own.”
Genji’s eyes flicked away for a second before turning back to Jesse’s face.
“I need to understand this new body, and I cannot do that with Dr. Ziegler’s tests. I need real action, real fighting.” He paused. With anybody else he’d guess they were a little nervous, but it was hard to tell with the visor hiding most of his facial expressions.
“Do you think we could spar some time?” Genji rushed the last question out. Definitely nervous. Jesse was, again, surprised at the turn the conversation was taking.
“Sure, anytime.” An image of Jesse explaining to Reyes how a wrestling match with a cyborg made him late to a debriefing filled his mind. “Well, anytime i’m not busy with something important.”
“What about now?” The cyborg sounded insistent. Jesse just stared. The tone was abrupt and a little rude, and the suddenness of it all threw Jesse off. He couldn’t tell if there were cultural differences at work here, or if this guy was really just that desperate.
A smile spread across Jesse’s face. Well, he’d wanted to burn a little energy, and this was as good a way as any.
“Why not? Doubt anybody’s in the sparring rings either.”
The sparring rings were a floor up from the shooting ranges, so Jesse headed for the elevator. Genji made almost no sound following him, but he walked just to the side of Jesse, staying in his peripheral vision.
Genji spoke again as they waited for the elevator.
“I...just realized, I do not even know your name.”
“Mccree, Jesse Mccree. You can call me Mccree, or Jesse, don’t really matter to me.”
“Muh-cree?” Genji repeated slowly. Jesse nodded. “That’s me.”
Genji turned towards Jesse and gave another small bow. “It is a pleasure to meet you Mccree-san.”
Jesse’s brows knitted in confusion. “San?”
“Ah, it’s an honorific in my country. It roughly translates to ‘sir’ or ‘mister’.”
Jesse barked out a laugh at that. “Well I sure as hell ain’t a sir.”
“It’s a sign of respect where I’m from.”
Jesse shrugged. He hoped he hadn’t accidentally offended the other man. “Hey, call me whatever works for you. Not much bothers me. Oh.” Jesse frowned, hit by a sudden realization. “Does that mean I should call you...Genji-san?” Genji made a small rasping sound. Jesse looked at him in alarm before his brain caught up. The sound had been somewhat altered like Genji’s voice, but if he looked past the robot tenor, he could swear Genji had just laughed.
“Yes, you may call me Genji-san if you like.”
OK, Genji was definitely amused. Jesse decided to let it go for now. He preferred the cyborg amused instead of angry. As they rode the elevator up a floor, he just hoped he wouldn’t regret this impromptu sparring match too much in the morning.
***
Mccree had to give it to the kid, he was a hell of an entertainer. Even though his own playlist rarely ventured outside of country and classic rock, he found himself swaying with the music. He bounced to a beat he could feel vibrating through the floor, even up in the nosebleed section.
As impressive as the music was, the DJ, Lucio Correria Dos Santos, was even more so. He was full of energy, constantly moving, his enthusiasm never dying down. It was infectious enough to keep the crowd on their feet dancing along for the last two hours. Hell, he even flaunted his stolen technology, skating across the stage in his crossfade suit, though Mccree noticed a few key pieces (namely a certain sonic amplifier) were missing.
No wonder Winston and Tracer were so eager to recruit him. It would probably be better if Tracer were here instead of him, but Winston had straight up refused. It was clear he didn’t want to send her back to Kings Row so soon after the assassination, though he claimed it was because of how recognizable she would be there. Mccree knew it was a blow to her pride, but he also knew there was nothing he could say to make it better. He made due with a hand on her shoulder, a silent reminder of his support.
Static in his ear broke through his thoughts. He held his hand to his ear, trying, in vain, to block out some of the noise.
“Sorry, didn’t catch that.”
Genji’s voice drifted through Mccree’s comm, quiet and difficult to hear over the background noise, but just clear enough to understand.
“Just checking in to see if you’re enjoying yourself.”
“I’d enjoy myself a lot more with something to smoke.” He grumbled, patting his empty pockets absentmindedly. “Wouldn’t believe how many people are smoking at this thing, driving me insane. Never could find mine though. Pretty sure Ang got ‘em when I wasn’t looking.”
“Would you like me to alert the authorities?” Genji tried to sound serious, but Mccree still caught the undercurrent of amusement.
“Might have to. Crime of the damn century.”
“You did tell her you were quitting.”
“Cuttin’ back, not quitting cold turkey.”
Genji laughed at his sullen tone. It was loud, even cutting through the noise of the concert. Mccree could almost see him, head thrown back, a steadying hand on his stomach. Mccree swore Genji had laughed more in the last three weeks Overwatch had been reunited than in all the years they’d worked together in the old days. It was a nice change, if a little disconcerting.
When Genji finally finished laughing at Mccree’s expense, his tone turned questioning. “Do you hate the music that much?”
“Naw, the music’s fine. It’s not my thing, but it’s not a problem. Just feel a bit like a pig in a parlor here. Out of place.” He quickly translated.
“I quite like this music. Reminds me of the types of songs I listened to in my youth.” Genji sounded wistful. Mccree wasn’t sure how to respond. In the old days, Genji’s past was almost always off limits. Even positive memories seemed tainted for him. Mccree couldn’t remember ever hearing Genji speak so calmly about his past, without a hint of bitterness or anger. Genji claimed he was in a better place now, throwing around the name of some omnic monk who would supposedly be joining Overwatch any day now. Still, Mccree was wary. He didn’t want to get too comfortable and end up overstepping his bounds. He decided to play it safe for now, at least until he could suss out Genji’s new boundaries more thoroughly.
“I said you could come if you wanted.”
“No,” Genji responded immediately, “This is still a mission, and it is my duty to ensure it goes smoothly.”
Mccree snorted. “You know you’re only here ‘cause Winston’s paranoid about any of us being alone.”
“Can you blame him?”
Mccree sighed. The attack on Gibraltar had shaken Winston more than the scientist was willing to admit, anyone could see that. Winston considered Overwatch his family, of course he would worry about them. Combine that with the stress of his new de facto leadership position…
“ ‘Course not. But if he’s gonna be leading and making decisions, he has to learn to be more practical. We’re two of the heaviest hitters we’ve got right now, we don’t both need to be on a recruitment mission.”
“But if something went wrong and one of us was left to handle it alone, we may end up losing one of our ‘heavy hitters’” Genji reasoned.
“Or we lose both.”
“Well, we are both already here, so I think that makes the whole argument a moot point.”
“I’m just sayin’” Mccree said, determined to win his moot argument, “You don’t need to be running around rooftops alone. Throw on some clothes and catch the end of the show with me. Hell, there are enough omnics here you probably don’t even need the clothes.”
Mccree hadn’t pushed Genji when he first opted out of the concert. Kings Row wasn’t a friendly place for omnics, and Genji was close enough in most people’s eyes he’d just attract the wrong kind of attention. Mccree had regretted the choice when he saw the crowd, though. Lucio had created a bubble of harmony here, with people and omnics of every type coexisting with no problems. Even if it was for just a few hours, it was damn impressive.
Truthfully, the crowd was so diverse, Mccree probably could have come in his usual clothes without attracting too much attention. He’d left most of it behind, wearing jeans and a t-shirt. A raincoat hid Peackeeper which he had in a holster strapped to his side instead of its usual spot at his hip. The only parts of his outfit he kept were his hat and belt buckle. When Genji had asked, he claimed they were just a part of his southern charm. Genji had laughed and said something in Japanese Mccree was sure was some sort of insult.
“I hardly look like your average omnic.” There was no censure in Genji’s voice, however. He maintained a light joking tone. “Plus, I’m not running across rooftops.”
Mccree scoffed. “You’re practically allergic to the ground. You’re on top of something.”
There was a moment of silence, then Genji huffed out a laugh. “Do you know the amount of self control is required to not make an innuendo out of a statement like that?”
Mccree laughed loudly at that. If the concert wasn’t already so loud it probably would have startled the few people near him. Mccree had forgotten how much fun talking to Genji could be.
Their conversation lulled after that, but it suited Mccree just fine. It was difficult to keep one up through the comm anyway. Still, he gave a little commentary every now and then, updating Genji on the antics of their target and his energetic fans. Genji had a quicker wit than Mccree today, with a joke for every comment or observation. Before he knew it, Lucio was saying (well, yelling) goodbye to the crowd and skating offstage. Mccree jerked up.
“I think it’s over. Time to move in.”
“Wait.” Genji cautioned. Mccree paused. He wasn’t sure why until Lucio skated back on stage to the crowd chanting ‘encore,’ and gave them exactly that. Genji chuckled at Mccree’s heavy sigh.
Forty minutes later the DJ went off stage again. Stage lights dimmed and lights over the stairs brightened. Still, Mccree gave it another minute before making his move.
“Alright, I think it’s actually over this time.” Mccree muttered into the comm.
“Good luck, my friend.”
Genji’s voice was strangely solemn. It only added to Mccree’s increasingly active nerves. Recruitment had never been his specialty, and somehow he felt Blackwatch recruitment methods would not be considered acceptable in this particular instance.
He wasn’t starting from scratch, at least. Winston and Tracer had been in contact with the DJ through email for a couple weeks now. Lucio had shown himself enthusiastic about the prospect, but understandably cautious. Mccree’s job was to convince him of their sincerity. Overwatch was really back, and it was desperate for help.
Though he’d probably try to play down the desperate part.
Getting backstage was the easy part, at least. Mccree flashed a backstage pass he’d swiped earlier and his most convincing smile, and he was through. The security was actually pretty skimpy, considering this guy had made an enemy of an international corporation with shady practices.
Lucio was still hanging out just behind the stage, smiling and chatting with crew members with a towel around his neck and a water bottle in his hand. He hadn’t even removed his skates yet. Mccree eyed the blue metal armor covering Lucio’s legs and concluded there was no way that was comfortable to sit in.
Now he just had to decide how to approach. The place was buzzing with all sorts of people running back and forth, so at least he didn’t stand out too much. People occasionally stopped to chat with the DJ, but rarely stayed for more than a couple of minutes. Mccree figured he could wander by, make an offhand comment, casually start a conversation-
“Hey, nice hat!”
It took Mccree a second to realize the comment was directed at him. Lucio was staring at his hat, a smile plastered on his face.
Or that, Mccree thought.
He had the presence of mind to tip his hat in Lucio’s direction. He started towards him, waiting until he was close enough to be heard at normal volume.
“Well thank you kindly.”
Lucio laughed. “Oh man, you even sound like a cowboy. You’re just missing the spurs.” Mccree immediately regretted his clothing choice. If he’d known that was all he needed to get the kids attention, he’d have come with the whole getup.
Mccree hooked his thumbs in his belt and spoke with an exaggerated drawl. “Hey now, what makes you think I ain’t a real cowboy?” He kept his tone light and amused, making sure it couldn’t be mistaken for real anger.
“Wait, are you? Do cowboys even exist anymore? Man, that would be so cool!”
How the hell did this kid sound so happy and excited all the time? It really was infectious. Mccree wasn’t even faking his smile. He opened his mouth to reply, hopefully with something witty, when his comm crackled in his ear. Could Genji have worse timing?
“Mccree, I need backup.” Genji’s voice was calm and steady, but the words sent fear down his spine.
Lucio had noticed his hesitation, his happy expression fading into one of confusion. Mccree feigned a look of surprise and pulled out his phone, barely glancing at the screen.
“Ah shit, sorry, gotta take this.” He gave another tip of his hat with an apologetic smile before spinning around and walking away as fast as he could without coming off as too suspicious. He put the phone to his ear for the look of things, pressing a finger to his comm.
“What happened?”
Mccree stumbled when Genji responded, shock flooding his system. The second he was out of Lucio’s line of sight he broke into a run, not caring about appearances anymore.
“I’ve found a bomb.”