Chapter Text
This desert is harsh country, a cracked and bloody orange that kicks itself up into the air in a dust that Hanzo pulls greedily into his lungs. He doesn’t know whether it’s the wide, endless sky sprawling out above him, bigger than he’s ever seen it, or the way scraggly plants wrestle themselves out of the dirt and into the sunlight, or the unabashedly oversaturated color of it all, but he thinks this place is beautiful. He misses Hanamura’s soft edges and cherry blossoms dearly, but the desert is unfamiliar, bold and unapologetic and Hanzo can’t get enough of it. He sighs quietly as the pickup truck bounces over the cracked road, taking him further and further away from the Deadlock base and out into the desert.
“You sure are quiet over there.” Hanzo starts a bit, drawn out of his reverie by the voice of the young Deadlock member in the driver’s seat. Hanzo hadn’t met this particular young man during the two weeks he’d spent stationed at one of Deadlock’s bases with several other members of the Shimada clan, but the guy had certainly made an impression. He’s dressed like an honest to god cowboy, straight out of one of the old Western movies that Genji loves and Hanzo is sure his brother would be delighted, were he there. Several other members of the gang held a particular affection for blue jeans and cowboy boots, sure, but none of them had completed their Western ensembles as…enthusiastically as this young man had.
“My apologies,” Hanzo replies, glancing over at the cowboy. “I was just admiring the terrain.”
The young man hums, adjusting the brim of his worn Stetson before looking at his passenger. “This your first time in New Mexico?”
Hanzo nods and mumbles an affirmative, glancing back out at the desert, not wanting to reveal that this was his first mission outside of Japan and only his third outside Hanamura. He’s only known this person for about twenty minutes, hardly enough time to reveal personal information like that, even if it wasn’t something particularly volatile. Thankfully, the young man starts speaking again and the momentary awkwardness is smoothed over.
“’S pretty nice out here, at first. Lots of sky, lots of land.” He chuckles a bit and Hanzo glances over again. “Unless you grew up here, then you’re just kinda sick of it.”
Hanzo thinks he knows what the cowboy means. He often overlooked Hanamura’s tranquil beauty himself, partly because he was so familiar with it and partly because he knew what lie under the city’s petal-strewn surface. But still, “I think it is lovely.”
“Pretty different from Japan?” the stranger asks.
“Yes, very.”
“Y’all are from…shoot what was it…Hanamura right?”
“Yes.” Hanzo replies, looking over again. “Primarily.”
The stranger’s face crinkles up a bit in confusion, even as he keeps his eyes trained on the dusty road. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“The Shimada clan maintains a presence in all of Japan’s major cities. Hanamura is home to our headquarters, but many of the agents who were sent here to work with Deadlock are from other places.”
“What about the big scary guy that talks like he’s in charge of all you guys?”
“Sumeragi-sama?”
“I don’t know, maybe? The guy with the fancy moustache and the really long hair. We were told to call him Mr. Shimada but half of y’all are Mr. Shimada so it’s kind of confusing.”
Hanzo smiles, despite himself. “Yes, that would be my uncle.”
“Uncle huh?”
“Yes. I believe I just said that.”
“He’s your…wait, I remember this…” The stranger’s face crinkles up a bit like he’s thinking hard before suddenly lighting up. He snaps his fingers and exclaims, “Ojisan! Is that right? I tried to brush up on some Japanese phrases before y’all came. Didn’t want you guys to feel uncomfortable if y’ didn’t speak English too well.”
Hanzo is stairs silently for a moment at the stranger’s expectant face before a burst of quiet laughter escapes him. “Ojisama.”
“Pardon?”
“I usually refer to him as Ojisama, but you were fairly close.”
“Ha! Knew it!”
They lapse into silence as Hanzo goes back to staring out at the passing desert and the stranger starts fiddling with the truck’s old radio. He switches between one station and another, never really settling anywhere, and sets the volume just high enough to be heard over the rush of dry wind. Hanzo finds it altogether pleasant and is content to remain that way until, after a while, the Deadlock member speaks again.
“So what’d they tell you about this mission?”
“Not much.” Hanzo replies, still looking out at the rock formations and cacti. “My uncle told me that we were to make contact with the Syndicates and ensure that their deal is still ready to be carried out.” He sighs a bit, regal brows furrowing in frustration. “I don’t know anything other than that.”
“Yeah. I got about the same briefing from Casey. Wonder why they sent just the two of us if this is so important.”
“And with so little information.” Hanzo huffs and catches the stranger’s little smirk from the corner of his eye.
“You sound right pissed about that.”
“I am not used to operating with so little information.” Hanzo replies, drumming his fingers against the open windowsill. “It is dangerous.”
“You afraid?”
“Hardly.” Hanzo sniffs, still facing the desert so that the stranger couldn’t see that he was right. He was simultaneously worried and irritated that the other young man had managed to read him so well and so quickly. “There is nothing particularly dangerous about this mission, I simply dislike operating in the dark.”
“Did they even tell you where we’re supposed to be going?”
“No.” Hanzo replies, not even attempting to disguise the bitterness in his voice.
The stranger whistles, low and soft. “Uncle Shimada really did send you in blind.”
“I received the same information as you.”
“Hey now, no need to get all defensive. We’re in this together, right?” The stranger shoots him a hopeful smile and Hanzo can’t help but deflate from his bristled state.
“I suppose so.”
“Now that’s more like it! I have the address they’re sending us to, by the way, if you’re interested in knowing.” Hanzo tries to appear only mildly interested, but the way the young man keeps waggling his eyebrows at him makes Hanzo’s stern façade crack as he snorts into the back of his hand.
“Alright, where are we going?”
“Northern California! ‘Bout a two days drive from the base. It’s someplace out by the coast. I’ll look it up again when we get closer.”
“Two days.” Hanzo murmurs, absently toying with the end of his ponytail.
“Yessir. Maybe longer if we take the scenic route.”
“Scenic route?”
“Yeah. Maybe roll through some big city like Phoenix or San Diego. Take a little detour or two so we can see the Grand Canyon or,” The stranger shrugged. “I don’t know, something like that.”
Hanzo hummed a bit in consideration. It…could certainly be nice to see a few things while he was in America. But still, “It would be wise to complete the mission as quickly as possible.”
The young man sighs. “Yeah, you’re probably right. ‘S not as fun though.”
Hanzo smiles a bit, glancing out at the road ahead. “I highly doubt my clan and your gang sent us out on this mission to have fun.”
The stranger chuckles and goes back to fiddling with the radio. “You’re probably right about that too.”
They slip back into silence again, Hanzo turning what little intel he’d been given over and over in his head until he was sure he’d memorized every detail of it. He was so lost in thought that it startled him a little bit when the stranger spoke again.
“Syndicates,” he scoffed. “what a dumb name.”
Hanzo couldn’t hide his bemused snort. “As a member of the Deadlock Gang, I hardly think you’re qualified to comment on name choices.”
“Hey now, Deadlock is a cool name!” The cowboy feigns indignation, pressing one hand dramatically against his chest. “It’s all badass and intimidating, not some obscure shit like the Syndicates.”
“Whatever you say.” Hanzo replies, trying and failing to hide his bemused smile.
“Y’know, speaking of names, I never did get yours.”
He looks over at the stranger’s wide, honest smile, expression softening a bit before he replies, “It is Hanzo. Hanzo Shimada.”
“So, do I call you Shimada-san or?”
He chuckles. “Just Hanzo will be sufficient.”
“Well then, just Hanzo, it’s a pleasure to meet you. The name’s McCree.”
“McCree.” Hanzo said, rolling the unfamiliar syllables around in his mouth. McCree laughs.
“You can just call me Jesse, sweetheart.”
“Just Jesse?”
“Yep.”
Hanzo smiles. “Then it is a pleasure to meet you as well, just Jesse.”