Chapter Text
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Here’s what McCree sees, that he’s not supposed to.
(In a long line of shit he wasn’t supposed to see, since he was fourteen and onwards.)
The team and him were in Dorado, escorting a museum piece that had the capability to level a whole seaside town with one clench of the wrong fist. Appropriately called, Doomfist.
Himself; Commander Morrison striding out front; Genji sticking to McCree’s side like a burr; Lucio; and Reinhardt, shuffling along behind like an oversize string toy. The streets were small, and although traffic was cleared to some degree for the escort, Reinhardt still found it hard to navigate around the colorful decorations, carts and people cluttering the road, remnants of a festival earlier in the day.
McCree loved Dorado.
He spoke the language- cuanto cuesta una cervaza por favor, gracias- enjoyed the colors and smells, and loved the food. Lord almighty did he love the food.
Him and Lucio managed to slip Morrison’s sight long enough to flirt some empanadilla’s from an old maid manning a battered looking stall, and the two of them streamed tears from the heat in their mouth the whole happy way back to the team.
They were chewed out by Morrison, but it was worth it for the burning in their throats and the flavor on the tongue that lasted the rest of the mission, cilantro and onion and soft meat that you hardly needed to chew. Genji had one as well, and then had two, when the spiciness managed to make it past the deadened taste buds behind his visor.
(Genji ate furtively, shy even now after they’d known each other for years, and McCree politely looked away across the street as scarred and ragged skin came into sight, pulsing a sick green that he knew meant everything was running smooth and healthy in the cyborgs body.)
Later, when everything went to shit, it went fast.
The only interference they were expecting was from local los muertos, the mere mention of their name drawing a rumble of anger from Commander Morrison.
What they got instead, was a sudden silence as the crowd thinned out, the payload making it’s way around a choke-point corner about two blocks from the museum; and then the loud unexpected crack-boom of a sniper rifle.
Lucio went down not a foot from McCree’s left elbow, and before his team mate had even hit the ground his limbs moved, rolling him down and to the left in time for a- boom - deep furrow to send shrapnel from the payloads chassis splintering across his cheek as the shot barely missed.
His momma didn’t raise a fool, and McCree ducked behind an ornate archway leading to what looked like a garden, gun ready, and sharp eyes scanning the rooftops in the time it took for the rest of the team to scramble into position.
At the same time he found cover, Reinhardt raised his shield up, Soldier 76 hunkering to his side like a faithful hound and visor humming to life with a sinister orange glow. A gloved thumb went down onto his belt and dropped a biotic field over the three remaining Overwatch members, Genji having disappeared at the first shot like a spooked cat.
“Report.” McCree’s comm buzzed in his ear with Soldier: 76’s urgent bark, and he tapped his throat to activate the mic, barely whispering into it. Not that the sniper didn’t know exactly where he’d gone.
“All clear boss.” He dodged a look around the corner towards where they'd been heading, quick as a rattlesnake, and pressed himself to the wall again. No crack of fire. Good. That meant attention was divided now that they’d scattered. It wasn't their first time being sniped at, and lord help them, it was probably far from their last. “More coming your way. Looks like they were expecting us.” He informed Morrison, gun tapping nervously against his own shoulder. The brief movement of enemy combatants he'd seen moving across the road had been worrying. Tac suits and full weaponry.
“I am also clear of the sniper.” Came Genji’s voice, barely legible with all the digital distortion, combined with the sudden pitter patter of gun fire. The echo on the comms matched the alarmingly loud sound of it above their heads. “Engaging hostiles. I will clear the rooftops.”
Soldier; 76 grunted assent, a brief whine marking the charging of his helix rockets. “McCree, take care of that sniper. We’ll hold the package.” Another crack, as the shot tore from a slightly different vantage point, to ping off of the very edge of Reinhardt’s shield. McCree caught a glimpse of muzzle flash, and a hint of a figure on a rooftop.
The only thing that was keeping them from being swamped by enemy hostiles was the flash of green McCree could see scything across a roof, the occasional report of gunfire marking the ninja’s progress. It wouldn’t last forever.
“You got it.” McCree crept off to the side, darting further to the left to circle around the block and come up behind the nest. He loped as easy and quiet as a jackal, Peacekeeper a heavy weight
Chapter Text#################################### Here’s what McCree sees, that he’s not supposed to. (In a long line of shit he wasn’t supposed to see, since he was fourteen and onwards.) The team and him were in Dorado, escorting a museum piece that had the capability to level a whole seaside town with one clench of the wrong fist. Appropriately called, Doomfist.Himself; Commander Morrison striding out front; Genji sticking to McCree’s side like a burr; Lucio; and Reinhardt, shuffling along behind like an oversize string toy. The streets were small, and although traffic was cleared to some degree for the escort, Reinhardt still found it hard to navigate around the colorful decorations, carts and people cluttering the road, remnants of a festival earlier in the day. McCree loved Dorado. He spoke the language- cuanto cuesta una cervaza por favor, gracias- enjoyed the colors and smells, and loved the food. Lord almighty did he love the food.Him and Lucio managed to slip Morrison’s sight long enough to flirt some empanadilla’s from an old maid manning a battered looking stall, and the two of them streamed tears from the heat in their mouth the whole happy way back to the team.They were chewed out by Morrison, but it was worth it for the burning in their throats and the flavor on the tongue that lasted the rest of the mission, cilantro and onion and soft meat that you hardly needed to chew. Genji had one as well, and then had two, when the spiciness managed to make it past the deadened taste buds behind his visor.(Genji ate furtively, shy even now after they’d known each other for years, and McCree politely looked away across the street as scarred and ragged skin came into sight, pulsing a sick green that he knew meant everything was running smooth and healthy in the cyborgs body.) Later, when everything went to shit, it went fast. The only interference they were expecting was from local los muertos, the mere mention of their name drawing a rumble of anger from Commander Morrison. What they got instead, was a sudden silence as the crowd thinned out, the payload making it’s way around a choke-point corner about two blocks from the museum; and then the loud unexpected crack-boom of a sniper rifle. Lucio went down not a foot from McCree’s left elbow, and before his team mate had even hit the ground his limbs moved, rolling him down and to the left in time for a- boom - deep furrow to send shrapnel from the payloads chassis splintering across his cheek as the shot barely missed.His momma didn’t raise a fool, and McCree ducked behind an ornate archway leading to what looked like a garden, gun ready, and sharp eyes scanning the rooftops in the time it took for the rest of the team to scramble into position.At the same time he found cover, Reinhardt raised his shield up, Soldier 76 hunkering to his side like a faithful hound and visor humming to life with a sinister orange glow. A gloved thumb went down onto his belt and dropped a biotic field over the three remaining Overwatch members, Genji having disappeared at the first shot like a spooked cat.“Report.” McCree’s comm buzzed in his ear with Soldier: 76’s urgent bark, and he tapped his throat to activate the mic, barely whispering into it. Not that the sniper didn’t know exactly where he’d gone.“All clear boss.” He dodged a look around the corner towards where they'd been heading, quick as a rattlesnake, and pressed himself to the wall again. No crack of fire. Good. That meant attention was divided now that they’d scattered. It wasn't their first time being sniped at, and lord help them, it was probably far from their last. “More coming your way. Looks like they were expecting us.” He informed Morrison, gun tapping nervously against his own shoulder. The brief movement of enemy combatants he'd seen moving across the road had been worrying. Tac suits and full weaponry.“I am also clear of the sniper.” Came Genji’s voice, barely legible with all the digital distortion, combined with the sudden pitter patter of gun fire. The echo on the comms matched the alarmingly loud sound of it above their heads. “Engaging hostiles. I will clear the rooftops.”Soldier; 76 grunted assent, a brief whine marking the charging of his helix rockets. “McCree, take care of that sniper. We’ll hold the package.” Another crack, as the shot tore from a slightly different vantage point, to ping off of the very edge of Reinhardt’s shield. McCree caught a glimpse of muzzle flash, and a hint of a figure on a rooftop. The only thing that was keeping them from being swamped by enemy hostiles was the flash of green McCree could see scything across a roof, the occasional report of gunfire marking the ninja’s progress. It wouldn’t last forever. “You got it.” McCree crept off to the side, darting further to the left to circle around the block and come up behind the nest. He loped as easy and quiet as a jackal, Peacekeeper a heavy weight
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