Chapter Text
“You want some coffee? I mean, I don’t recommend it. Tastes like shit, but it’s better than nothing.”
Symmetra barely looked up to regard the man sitting across from her, hands tightening into small fists under the table. Every time he opened his mouth to speak to her, she had to resist the urge to grind her teeth. Couldn't he tell that she had no intention of speaking to him? She wanted to be left alone for the time being, maybe even for the rest of her life, and yet here he was, pouring her a cup of coffee regardless if she wanted it or not.
If it tasted as bad as it smelled, she could only imagine why he even chose this place as their destination. The decor was beyond tacky and severely outdated, down to the grimy-looking tiles and yellowed posters on the walls.
Wherever this place was, it was a crumbling western relic, complete with swirling dust and whisks of rolling tumbleweed skirting the desert landscape just outside the yellowed windows. There was nothing remotely charming she could say about the place, especially not when she was certain that she spotted a roach dart towards the bathroom. Just another reason that she regretted that she set foot on the premises.
“Eggs are getting cold. Should eat em up quick unless you like that sorta thing.”
She glanced down at the loaded plate before her. He had taken the liberty of ordering her a meal that she didn’t even ask for. Half of the food she didn’t deign to eat, but even if she wanted to, everything was all coated in a disgusting, waxy layer of grease and salt. It was very much a heart attack waiting to happen.
Americans are so obnoxious, she decided. Sniffing, Symmetra pushed the plate away from her and turned her head. The more time she spent with him this long, grueling week, the more she wanted to just go back to Vishkar despite everything that had transpired. At least there, she wouldn’t feel this nagging feeling that she was completely out of place in this world, one where she didn’t belong.
After the company had been exposed for their scandals, they were quickly shut down seemingly overnight. No one was sure where all the information had been leaked from, but the damage it caused was devastating to Vishkar’s image when it hit the media. They had already been controversial enough, making headlines on every few months, but this was enough to put the proverbial nail in the coffin.
A certain freedom fighter’s efforts only fanned the flames until there were thousands, maybe millions demanding something to be done about the injustice at hand.
Amidst the chaos, several members, mostly the ones with higher positions within the company, were arrested for their involvement in illegal activity. There were rumors flying everywhere, and many circled around the idea that they had connections to the terrorist group, Talon. It was all anyone could talk about on the news.
Even now, in this miserable little hellhole, she could hear the radio buzzing about Vishkar in the background, but thankfully, no one seemed to be listening nor did they seem to recognize her.
Satya still had a hard time believing any of it to be true. Most of what she had heard was second hand information, leaving her Ina state of perpetual confusion. Every time she tried to process what had happened, her mind would go blank. She had been raised to be their shining prodigy; how could they been so awful behind the shadows when they had always promised a glittering utopia?
Sure, she had to clean up a few messes here and there, but chaos couldn’t possibly be overturned overnight.
She prayed that any minute now, she would wake up to find this nightmare was nothing more than a blip on her mind, an irrational and fleeting dream, and that her life would resume as it always had. It had been so long since she had worked on a project, and her hands were itching to get back to her assignments, though she knew she would never get to complete them. Time had certainly been taken for granted, and she would have had to increase her workload to get everything done twice as quick, thrice as effective.
The man in red sighed and leaned back into the booth, folding his arms behind his head. Symmetra snuck a few glances when he wasn't looking and noticed that they both had a metal left arm, but that’s where the similarities ended.
From the looks of it, his prosthetic had seen better days. Some of the parts were either dented and/or didn’t match in material or color as if they had been replaced along the way. Possibly an older model available to the general public, it just could not compare to her beautifully crafted, pristine gauntlet.
Vishkar had an exclusive licensed deal with a prosthetic technology company, so her model was a sure sign of her identity as an agent. Not a speck of dirt could be found anywhere on the white titanium metal. Although, now, she cradled her arm, making sure no one could notice it.
He flicked his hat up with his other hand and gestured towards her. “Look... I get it, I do. Gonna be honest when I say that I was in your boots some time ago back when I was a brat, and… you're walking away… Great.” He grumbled and shook his head. “Unbelievable.”
At the same time he tried to reason with her, she had decided she was fed up and slammed her hands onto the table as she rose to her feet. Without giving him a second glance, she stormed off to the entrance of the diner. In her fury, she ignored every single baffled look that the other customers threw her way and shoved the two doors hard enough to swing them wide open.
A wave of scorching hot air pressed up against her skin, not unlike the heat of other countries she had visited in the past. The sun was blinding, and she held her hand to her forehead until her visor accommodated by tinting just enough to see more efficiently, not that there was much to see in this dump of a town.
Route 66, what a joke. This was a desert wasteland with nothing but rocks, dirt, and men playing dress up. Well, at least one of them was.
Speaking of the devil, there he was in all his cowboy glory hounding after her, the accessories hanging on his clothing jingling. It wasn't long before she saw him from the corner of her eye. It was impossible to miss him when he had the most obnoxiously bright red serape and a stupid BAMF belt, whatever that actually even meant.
She wanted no part of it. Him or Overwatch. It was an absolute insult to know that these dreadful criminals would even dare to try and manipulate her situation in their favor. How were they any better than Vishkar when they were obviously just trying to exploit her abilities and knowledge?
In the wrong hands, her tech could be considered a threat to society, she thought, but she stopped that train of thought. One of the crimes committed by the company was creating and smuggling illegal weaponry made from hardlight, exploiting labor from the natives of poorer countries, and a growing list other atrocious acts. Most of which she was aware of, but it didn't help her frustrations because she couldn't just separate herself from Vishkar and openly condemn the actions of her superiors. After all, she wasn't entirely innocent.
At first, she hadn't thought anything of the side missions she was entrusted with. If it meant helping the company, she would see them all through, no matter the transgressions, and her actions were always met with positive approval that it didn't even seem like what she was doing was a bad thing. She had no reasons to believe that anyone involved would lie to her when she knew them her whole life.
After awhile though, the stakes had gradually rose, and she was asked to do far more than what she was comfortable with. Regardless, she still willingly went along with what she was ordered to do. It didn't matter that she began to question what they were doing, in the end, she had done nothing to put a stop to it. She wanted what was best for the world that she let Vishkar blind her from their ugly truth.
Now, all she was left with was the guilt of knowing she had a heavy hand in such severe contraventions. It didn't matter that she was tricked or that she regretted becoming involved. Some might take pity on her becuase she was strung along for years, but there was no taking back her complicity.
The shame just brought on waves of anger and hurt, and there was nothing she could do to make things right or make anyone believe that she didn't intend for things to happen this way. Even worse that Overwatch seeking her out could only mean that she would be branded and viewed as a villainess for the rest of her life.
Ignoring her unwanted shadow, she let out a short, exasperated scream just to release some of the built up tension in her body. Anything to keep the angry tears that threatened to roll down her face. Her pride scoffed at the idea of him seeing her at her lowest, and it was the only thing that helped keep her body moving when feet just wanted her to collapse and let the earth swallow her up in her misery.
“Hey now, I know I said that I wouldn't put the cuffs on ya, but I can’t have you high tailing it outta here," the man lightly said once he caught up with Symmetra to her annoyance. He didn’t mention anything about her yelling, nor did he say anything about the way her lips thinned as she tried to regulate her expression. "I promised the fellas back home I’d return your pretty lil head no problem.”
She finally paused, partly because there really wasn’t anywhere else to go for miles, but also because his words struck a nerve with her. Home. They referred to that ape’s laboratory in Watchpoint Gibraltar as a home.
From her understanding, the previous Overwatch headquarters had been utterly obliterated several years ago in an unexplained explosion, causing more eyes to notice their strange activity. From there, they began to pick up polarizing reactions of the public.
Wasn't it illegal for them to even do such a thing? She was certain that there had been a law made by the government that specifically forbade them from any official activity, large or otherwise. In fact, that was main reason why she was so surprised when Overwatch agents were able to make negotiations with the Brazilian police and government after they had taken her in for questioning. She had barely been detained for a few days before she was instantly released into their custody.
To make it worse, she hadn’t even been informed of the arrangement at all, leaving her incredibly apprehensive of what was happening. There was still no telling what deal had even been made or why they were able to just hand her off to these strangers like alcohol at a speakeasy.
The memory of being ushered into their jet in the dead of night earlier this week still made her uncomfortable. Anytime someone approached her, she felt ill and terrified that she was regrettably more unpleasant than she normally would be. No one was able to answer her questions, though it was probably more accurate to say that they were refusing to. Nothing about it seemed right.
It was a little frightening to know that she could disappear for good, and no one would even know she was gone. As far as she knew, not even the reporters, who certainly hound the police for a crumb of information, wrote about her mysterious vanishing act.
Even though she wasn’t one of the leading factors of Vishkar’s downfall, she would have thought that something this suspicious would’ve been set off in the papers like wildfire. For an organization that had been dissolved so long ago, Overwatch still had a terrifying amount of global political power.
After all she had been through, did they really think so lowly of her that she would willingly thrust herself into their corrupt, roguish lifestyle? Home indeed.
Symmetra turned her heel and jabbed a perfectly manicured finger towards him. “Let me make myself clear, Mr. McCree-”
He smiled, hands raised as if she had pointed a gun at him. “Call me Jesse.”
She took a quick moment to take a deep breath and let it out before responding. She hated when people interrupted her. She was already overly stressed as it was, but this man was hellbent on ticking every pet peeve of hers in a single day. He was lucky that she needed him to pilot the jet to get her out of this dust bowl wilderness.
“… Mr. McCree, time and time again, I have stated that I never had any intentions of ever joining you and your ragtag team of military misfits. No amount of your blatant blackmail will make me reconsider my stance on the matter,” she scowled, a flame burning wildly in her core.
That carefree smile of his faded into a mixed emotion that she just couldn’t decipher, not that she was ever any good at reading people. Pity? Anger? Sadness? It was hard to determine, but it didn’t matter in the end. She was not here to cater to his feelings; she was here to get Overwatch off her back and out of her life for good.
The sooner she could try to pick up the pieces of her life, the better. It didn't matter that she had no idea what her next plan should be, but it definitely would do her no good to get caught up in something well beyond sanity.
“All right, all right… I get where you’re coming from, but we’re not trying to blackmail you into doing nothing you don’t wanna do."
“Jail or join Overwatch sounds plenty like blackmail, Mr. McCree.”
“Hm, y’got me there. So it’s kinda like blackmail," he admitted, waving his hand in a circle as he spoke.
He didn't seem too concerned about the legality of what he was saying, not that she expected someone like him to.
"But we mean well, really. We’re thinking a out your best interest," the man added with a shrug as if that really answered anything. "Besides, before your dramatic exit in the diner, I was trying to tell you that I went through the same dirt path you’re on now. I know firsthand how you feel bout this whole ordeal.”
“You? As if you could possibly know how I feel,” She coldly responded, her voice louder than she intended to be. When was the last time she had been this angry? Had she ever been? This man's skills seemed to begin and end with knowing exactly what to say to get a rise out of her. It was the final straw of what she was able to take.
Maybe it wasn't fair to him for her to direct all her indignation on him, but her unfamiliarity with her rage made it difficult to redirect it elsewhere. Why did Overwatch have to send him her way?
“How could a…a criminal of all people know how I feel?” She snapped, barely finding the words to properly berate him. Who did he think he even was to impose himself on her and then tell her he could understand her? “None of you are ‘looking out for my best interest,’ as you claim; do not try to patronize me. This is all a ploy just to use my abilities for your illegal activity, and I am no fool to fall for it.”
He didn’t respond, his gaze slowly turning elsewhere. She mistakingly took this as some sort of display of shame or maybe he wasn’t even paying attention. Either way, it just bothered her even more to the point that she failed to take notice of his hand lowering to his gun.
“I have humored you enough long enough, but I will not stand for this any longer,” she continued, ripping off the temporary badge they had given her when she had arrived on the base. It was childish of her, but she felt a small slimmer of satisfaction when she threw it onto the ground. “Overwatch is nothing more than a group of illegal fugitives. Understand that I have nothing to do with you people, so you had best return me back and let me sort out my life on my own without any further interference.”
“Miss Symmetra. This ain’t really the time nor place for us to unpack all that,” McCree muttered, putting up a finger to her lips in an attempt to silence her. “Somethin' ain’t right…”
Every time he touched her, intentionally or not, it spiked her anger tenfold, and her blood boiled until she couldn’t take it anymore. She slapped his hand away from her, disregarding the sting from hitting metal.
“Not right? Not right? I will tell you what is 'not right…'” she venomously emphasized, taking no heed to his warning. “Overwatch preying on people in vulnerable positions in order to swindle them and force them into their devious ranks! It should come to absolutely no one's surprise, and certainly not mine, that the government tried to put an end to your-”
BANG!
Silenced by the sudden deafening crack in the air, Symmetra scrambled back, nearly tripping over her own heels as they sunk in the scorching sand. Besides the foreign ringing in her ears, the world felt like it had gone silent, putting her in a mild daze.
A small cloud of dirt hit her face and made her cough before she could even clear her head. Trying to make sense of her situation, she put a hand over her mouth and nose and squinted her eyes, but she couldn’t see whatever it was that the cowboy could. She envied how calm he was when her mind was sprinting every which way that she didn’t know how to react.
She had always been a quick thinker and light on her feet, but most of her assignments were simple, never really involving much violence if possible. She always chose to neutralize any obstacles in her way if she could help it, even if it didn’t bode well with her upper management. However, even she knew that was undeniably the sound of a gunshot.
It seemed as though her karma was fiendishly adamant on delivering divine retribution for Rio, paying her back in spades with one terrible event after the other. Was a break from all the stress and disorder that riddled her life too much to ask for? Apparently so.
She could barley find any sense of relief when her hearing gradually came back to her, not when the rest of her body was panicking over the unknown. Nothing else stirred in the desert, but when she glanced down, she spotted a reflective piece of metal poking out of the ground.
A single bullet had dug its way into the dirt, only a couple of inches away from McCree’s boot. There was no mistaking the fact that it had been meant for him, a possible warning shot or maybe even a miss. She racked her brain for any possible ideas why they would be singling him out.
She half hoped that these men were just your average thugs harassing the locals over some backwater town dispute. Anything would be better than the cowboy being their specific target, but out of the blue, she recalled seeing his image on a dartboard.
At the time, she thought it was a mere coincidence that the man in the picture resembled his likeness and figured it was probably just the standard appearance of most American men in this region. It was only now dawning on her that it was definitely a portrait of the man beside her. She was in the presence of a wanted man.
“What is happening? Why are they after you— ah!” Symmetra gasped as McCree interrupted her yet again, this time by scooping her up in his arm. He held her on his hip like she was nothing more than a sack of potatoes and started running as if he knew exactly where he needed to go.
The unwarranted touch threw her into a mild panic, her first instinct being to kick and screech. Her struggles only stopped when she heard a few more shots being fired on their trail. Reluctantly yielding her autonomy to Mccree, she turned her head and spotted two men kneeling on top of the rocky buttes nearby, aiming their firearms down at them.
One of them waved as a signal, and three more popped up, positioned on the diner’s roof. Each one was armed with something more destructive than the last— probably a result of smuggling trade, which seemed all the rage these days. None of them looked particularly happy to see her companion.
As the bullets snapped closer and closer, something in her gut told her that these ruffians would have no qualms about her getting caught in the crossfire. To them, she was simply collateral damage, and that cold hearted indifference to a civilian’s well-being made her blood run cold. She wasn't sure if she would even be able to stand up on her own without Mccree supporting her, let alone escape anywhere to get away without putting the target on her back.
It really was the perfect place for a surprise attack, she mused despite herself. The only buildings nearby could barely qualify as cover with their weak walls and small interiors. They were incredibly easy targets to be invaded even if they decided to hole up there for safety. That is, if these wild folk didn't just blow the whole place up with dynamite, or whatever it was that western outlaws liked to do in their spare time.
The cowboy spat on the ground, his gun, a revolver no less, at the ready. Even now, he didn't even look remotely bothered by the unfortunate scenario laid out before them and still managed to flash her another grin. “Sorry bout this, Ma’am, but to be honest, I didn’t bring you along just to have tea an' crumpets to change your mind,” he admitted, never slowing down his pace even with the added weight. “I’m out here on some business, just wasn’t expecting them to come so late.”
Late? He knew he was going to get ambushed and with that information, he still brought her with? Was he trying to get her killed or use her as a meat shield? For someone who wanted to sign her soul to the Overwatch devil, he should at least hope to keep her safe and very much alive. The audacity of this man knew no bounds.
She reached an epiphany, and she wasn't even sure if she should laugh or scream at him.
“You are insane.”
“Nicest thing you said all day; think I'm starting to grow on you.” McCree quipped as he retaliated at their assailants with a single shot, impressively taking out one of the men on the diner roof without even glancing his way.
The man gurgled, grabbing at his throat, and coughed up his last breaths. It wasn’t long before he tumbled off the building at an alarming speed and hit the ground with a muffled thud, twisted in an impossible position. The corpse laid still on the desert sand and blood slowly trickled out of the wound.
She was nauseous at the sight, nearly hurling as McCree dashed towards the diner again and practically dropped her onto one of the parked hover-cycles. He scooted up behind her, pushing her against the front. The key was luckily still inside, and the engine roared to life as he turned it.
“I-is this even yours?? We came here by jet!” Symmetra yelled over the sound of it, a little disorientated from being jostled into the middle of an action packed cowboy movie. She could barely keep up with how everything was playing out.
“We’re borrowing it.”
Her mouth fell open in response. Just as she thought. They’re criminals.
She ducked her head down and flinched as more gunshots sliced cleanly through the air like sharp daggers, making the ringing in her eardrums even worse. Her fingers clutched onto anything that she could, scratching her nails against the smooth metal and rough leather. The commotion was unbearable for her, but turning on the soundproof feature on her headset probably wouldn't be the wisest course of action. It wasn’t the most ideal scenario, but she’d have to sacrifice her comfort for now.
Until they were in the clear, at that moment, it was critical that she could hear McCree and where the shots were coming from, but in the case that she went deaf from this she was definitely suing.
“And we’re off!” Jerking the handles to the side, he hollered as the hovercycle bolted out of the parking spot, laughing wildly as if this was all just a game to him. She could only hope to keep her head low and cling for dear life. Not only was he crazy enough to endanger her life by bringing her out here, but he was heading straight towards the very people that were one bullet away from sending them to their makers.
If she survived from this, she would be sure to beat some sense into this street urchin.