The ninja was what Reyes had always liked to call a mop- Cleaning up after others. McCree had told Genji that once and he’d laughed, always tickled by turns of english phrasing that made silly kind of sense. Hair of the dog that bit you. Struck dumb. Meaner than a hornet. Welcome as a rattlesnake at a square dance.
(The fact that McCree liked to make him laugh didn't escape him- For such a solemn little bot, he had a laugh like a jackal.)
Suddenly, the sniper dropped like a rock. Right out of his line of sight. Delayed and distant, the strange ffffff-tok of it hit McCree’s ears a split second after the realization why the sniper was rolling, continuing to move even with an arrow protruding from her back.
Impressed despite himself, McCree hesitated. And paid for it.
Another arrow sprouted next to the second, two wings, and the sniper finally let out a short throaty bark of pain from between clenched teeth. Blood splattered the roof top, dark and inky in the dim light. She slithered to the side like a snake from a noose, and escaped the third and almost final arrow by rolling off of the ledge. It was so smooth it was like watching someone at the ballet. She just became where the arrows weren't.
McCree took the wasted shot a second too late, as she swung from the hook she’d latched onto the roof edge, rifle dangling from her injured grip as if the strap was the only thing keeping it on. It blew through her hair harmlessly, kicking it out like a horses tail.
He took a second shot at the hook itself as she rappelled down wildly, swarming to the ground like a spider. This one hit. But she knew before he’d even taken aim, and released in time to roll elegantly to the ground, a trail of blood marking the path as she fled into a narrow gap between buildings. New jewelry and all. How the woman ran so goddamn fast in heels, McCree had no idea. Maybe they were experimental too. He made a note, as he irritably watched her disappear, to mention the possibility to Morrison. See what he thought of some new gear for himself.
The red jewel eyes winked out of sight.
An arrow whistled and landed in McCree’s arm.
It knocked him back, metal splintering and the clunk-whine of the servos in his arm giving up sounding loud in his ear. Hydraulic pressure lost, and incredible pain washed through his whole side as his nervous system lit up.
McCree lugged his arm physically after himself as he rolled clear under the eaves of the gazebo, panting like a wounded animal and ripping the arrow loose. Another one narrowly missed his boot as he drew it up under cover, and McCree yelped in alarm.
“I need some back up!” He hollered into his com, before flicking it off to concentrate on the matter at hand. In the brief moment it was on, he'd mostly heard swearing, and Reinhardt's crazy laughing.
He took a moment to think, breathing loud and harsh and adrenaline thrumming through his neck and wrist. Familiar with the patterns most snipers took, he scrambled out of the way a beat later and down the side of the garden wall he was on top of, dodging an arrow as it stuck itself in the awning he’d been crouched under. Mobile sniper. ‘Sneaky bastard.’
Buying a few moments of reprieve, McCree scrambled towards where he knew the package was, moving steadily with Lucio, Commander, and Reinhardt holding fast- and Genji no doubt taking care of any extraneous opposition.
McCree was familiar with both Los Muertos, and Talon; And he didn’t know of any agent of either that used bows and arrows.
He took the time from running, crouched and weaving, to flip his comm back on once again. Concerned shouting met his ears, which he ignored. “Sniper on my tail! My arm’s out of commission, and this guy’s angrier than a hornet in a-” Another arrow whizzed by, and only a sudden jerk in motion as McCree stumbled drunkenly against a wall saved him from getting another arrow, this time in the leg. “Shit!”
McCree landed on the ground when the arrow exploded where it had landed, shrapnel flying and pinging off of the wall wildly in neon tracings of blue. Two of them caught his right leg, collapsing it under him with an explosion of pain.
He caught himself with his flesh and blood arm, preventing his face from meeting cold unforgiving stone, and turned onto his back in time to see the dark figure drop from the rooftop behind him, noiseless. Like the devil himself.
McCree hadn't been the hunted in this kind of scenario since Reyes himself had dragged his sorry carcass out of Deadlock gorge. He found he didn't like the change in role.
Two glinting metal boots, a bow almost as long as he was tall. A neon blue glow on the quiver, some sort of targeting technology no doubt. It matched the sullen blue glint of his arrow, nocked and pointed right at McCree, as the archer made his slow and methodical way down the alley.
“Alright fella, I don’t know who you are, but this is an Overwatch operation.” McCree dragged himself back to his
The ninja was what Reyes had always liked to call a mop- Cleaning up after others. McCree had told Genji that once and he’d laughed, always tickled by turns of english phrasing that made silly kind of sense. Hair of the dog that bit you. Struck dumb. Meaner than a hornet. Welcome as a rattlesnake at a square dance.(The fact that McCree liked to make him laugh didn't escape him- For such a solemn little bot, he had a laugh like a jackal.) Suddenly, the sniper dropped like a rock. Right out of his line of sight. Delayed and distant, the strange ffffff-tok of it hit McCree’s ears a split second after the realization why the sniper was rolling, continuing to move even with an arrow protruding from her back. Impressed despite himself, McCree hesitated. And paid for it. Another arrow sprouted next to the second, two wings, and the sniper finally let out a short throaty bark of pain from between clenched teeth. Blood splattered the roof top, dark and inky in the dim light. She slithered to the side like a snake from a noose, and escaped the third and almost final arrow by rolling off of the ledge. It was so smooth it was like watching someone at the ballet. She just became where the arrows weren't.McCree took the wasted shot a second too late, as she swung from the hook she’d latched onto the roof edge, rifle dangling from her injured grip as if the strap was the only thing keeping it on. It blew through her hair harmlessly, kicking it out like a horses tail.He took a second shot at the hook itself as she rappelled down wildly, swarming to the ground like a spider. This one hit. But she knew before he’d even taken aim, and released in time to roll elegantly to the ground, a trail of blood marking the path as she fled into a narrow gap between buildings. New jewelry and all. How the woman ran so goddamn fast in heels, McCree had no idea. Maybe they were experimental too. He made a note, as he irritably watched her disappear, to mention the possibility to Morrison. See what he thought of some new gear for himself. The red jewel eyes winked out of sight. An arrow whistled and landed in McCree’s arm. It knocked him back, metal splintering and the clunk-whine of the servos in his arm giving up sounding loud in his ear. Hydraulic pressure lost, and incredible pain washed through his whole side as his nervous system lit up.McCree lugged his arm physically after himself as he rolled clear under the eaves of the gazebo, panting like a wounded animal and ripping the arrow loose. Another one narrowly missed his boot as he drew it up under cover, and McCree yelped in alarm.“I need some back up!” He hollered into his com, before flicking it off to concentrate on the matter at hand. In the brief moment it was on, he'd mostly heard swearing, and Reinhardt's crazy laughing.He took a moment to think, breathing loud and harsh and adrenaline thrumming through his neck and wrist. Familiar with the patterns most snipers took, he scrambled out of the way a beat later and down the side of the garden wall he was on top of, dodging an arrow as it stuck itself in the awning he’d been crouched under. Mobile sniper. ‘Sneaky bastard.’
Buying a few moments of reprieve, McCree scrambled towards where he knew the package was, moving steadily with Lucio, Commander, and Reinhardt holding fast- and Genji no doubt taking care of any extraneous opposition.
McCree was familiar with both Los Muertos, and Talon; And he didn’t know of any agent of either that used bows and arrows.
He took the time from running, crouched and weaving, to flip his comm back on once again. Concerned shouting met his ears, which he ignored. “Sniper on my tail! My arm’s out of commission, and this guy’s angrier than a hornet in a-” Another arrow whizzed by, and only a sudden jerk in motion as McCree stumbled drunkenly against a wall saved him from getting another arrow, this time in the leg. “Shit!”
McCree landed on the ground when the arrow exploded where it had landed, shrapnel flying and pinging off of the wall wildly in neon tracings of blue. Two of them caught his right leg, collapsing it under him with an explosion of pain.
He caught himself with his flesh and blood arm, preventing his face from meeting cold unforgiving stone, and turned onto his back in time to see the dark figure drop from the rooftop behind him, noiseless. Like the devil himself.
McCree hadn't been the hunted in this kind of scenario since Reyes himself had dragged his sorry carcass out of Deadlock gorge. He found he didn't like the change in role.
Two glinting metal boots, a bow almost as long as he was tall. A neon blue glow on the quiver, some sort of targeting technology no doubt. It matched the sullen blue glint of his arrow, nocked and pointed right at McCree, as the archer made his slow and methodical way down the alley.
“Alright fella, I don’t know who you are, but this is an Overwatch operation.” McCree dragged himself back to his
การแปล กรุณารอสักครู่..