Hereâs the next chapter of And Get Burned posted to tumblr first surprise
There are a lot of different kinds of love. Romantic. Familial. Platonic. Thereâs love that makes you want to go cliff diving and plunge into the cold ocean and love that makes the world feel steady. You didnât know if you loved Reaper. You could, someday. Or maybe you loved him now and just didnât want to admit it. Life seemed to love pulling the rug out from under your feet whenever you found any kind of comfort and stability. Wouldnât it be the way of things if you decided that you loved him only for everything to come crashing down on you, the way it always did? It was easier to say that you didnât know. That you appreciated him, that you liked his attention, that you liked his time, that you liked the way he found you only to pull you into his arms and stand like that for a few brief moments before letting you go on with your day. Maybe it was fear, then, that kept you from saying that you wanted him at your side at all times. Not just when you desperately needed it. But always. Even when things were okay.
Part of you was afraid to love him, afraid of that every interaction with him was the sea receding from the shore and preparing to drown you in a wave of whatever secrets he kept. The other part of you wanted to just love without fear consequences be damned. But you were scared. A lot of the time. All the time. You hadnât been completely free from worry since⌠Well. Overwatch.
It was easier to double down on your hunt for overwatchâs traitors than it was to look at who youâd become, wasnât it? Easier to take Sombraâs call and get onto another Talon jet and lean back with a glass of wine in one hand and a tablet in the other. The manor was a couple thousand square feet of unnecessary, all imported wood floors and hand laid mosaics. Situated just close enough to loom over their neighbors but with a tall brick fence trimmed in painfully sharp looking iron decorations. Cameras everywhere, a private security force, with a plentitude of incredibly nosy neighbors looking to get over on whoever they could. It was a challenge. Not the sort of job you would regularly take for the sake of your reputation. But the woman in question was throwing a party, and you werenât one to pass up the opportunity to spice up the parties of the rich and boring.
Getting in wasnât a problem. Talon could provide false identities at the drop of a hat. Another new name on top of the thousand others you had put on and thrown away. Maybe you would throw away Wrath too. Be nothing more than a face and the lingering smell of charcoal. For now you were a bright smile, expensive clothes, and a glass of the most expensive chardonnay available. It was awfully nice of your host to provide you with good snacks before you murdered them and ruined their big social event. Thereâd been plenty of people who hadnât even put out a bottle of water before you scorched them into the ground. The most youâd ever gotten is a half-stale bag of forgotten pita chips, and those just made good kindling.
You were relaxed. Comfortable. Confident. You were in her house. You knew where her car was, where her helicopter pad was, where her panic room was. You knew how long it would take you to disable all three if you were so inclined. A shame the back up generator was so very exposed. It would have been smart to tuck it away in the panic room but then it wouldnât look like such a luxurious little lounge now would it? Canât ruin the aesthetic.
A shame you were just here to murder and destroy. You somewhat craved the game of creeping right in front of someoneâs face, stealing all of their little secrets. Craved the pleasure of smiling at someone while you walked right out the front door with an armful of everything they wanted to keep hidden. Maybe you could find something anyway. If you were just going to destroy it all there couldnât be much harm in taking your pick of whatever made it through the fire. There was really a shortage of pretty things that could withstand being caught up in a raging inferno and that was a crime against you, specifically.Â
You wandered down the hallways, smiling at passersby who were also passing judgement on the decor. It was sterile, bordering on artificial. Perfect modern walls in the lightest shade of blue they could get away with while still claiming the walls werenât white. They were blue, of course, trimmed in white molding and dotted with paintings that bordered on monochrome themselves for a âsplash of colorâ. Lots of vocal points with nothing to say. There was one piece that you liked, a glass sculpture in shades of red, orange, and yellow. Bittersweet and full of regrettable memories. But you liked it nonetheless. Lingered in front of it while you barely touched the still full glass that was starting to go a little warm. You sighed and took it down in a single drink, leaving the glass empty next to the little sculpture.
As you left a hand clasped around your mouth, and a much stronger hand gripped one of your arms, dragging you into a small storage closet. Which was bad for them. You calmly raised your hand to theirs, scorching them for just a second before they tore away from you with a muffled curse. You spun and slammed your hand into their throat. A ball of fire burst to life in your other had, revealing an unimpressed looking McCree pointing to his throat.
âDo we have to do this.â
âI dunno McCree. Did you have to drag me into a dark room?â
âI didnât want to risk making a scene. What are you doing here?â
Oh yeah. Dragging someone into a room definitely wasnât making a scene. He was lucky the hallway was empty and that you werenât ready to spring your trap on the target just yet. You wanted to make sure she was caught in a corner when everything went up. You slowly released McCreeâs neck and took a step back. He didnât need to know that.
âCanât I have a social life?â
âYou donât have to lie to me. Youâre here for Talon, why?â
âWhat I do and why couldnât be less your business. Why donât you tell me why the fuck youâre here. This isnât your scene.â You kept the fire dancing in your hand, staring more at the flames than him. You were curious. He was never a player who enjoyed dressing up and stealing with a smile. So if he was here than there was something interesting. Unless he was here to save this womanâs life, but why would he. She betrayed him as much as you. She sold out all of Overwatch for the sake of a life in the fast lane. There was nothing to gain in protecting a traitor.
âI need something. A key, looks like a flash drive. For Echo.â
âEcho⌠the omnic?â Needed a key? Youâd never met her yourself. But the way McCree was looking, she was important.
âItâs⌠Can you help.â
McCree gave you a withering look, leaning against the wall of the closet with one arm crossed over the other. You immediately put up your hands to stop him. You knew what you said. You also knew what you meant by it. You didnât need any of his sass.
âI mean. What do you need done.â
A smile. âI need to find out where itâs being kept, might need help getting it if itâs in a safe. You can burn through metal right.â
âI didnât say I was going to help you!â You snapped. But he just grinned and you flicked a harmless spark his way. You were going to help him. Why not? You were going to burn this place down and kill a woman anyway, might as well get your fix of subterfuge by stealing from her first. But you really didnât want your face tied to McCree. If you were going to end up on police watchlists it was going to be for your own selfish gain, not for another spontaneous outburst of charity.
âThanks, I owe you one Smokes-â
âDonât call me that!â
âSorry, sorry. Iâll meet you in the office. Donât want to ruin your reputation right?â He winked and opened the door to the closet, motioning you out. You fought to wipe the snarl from your face as you walked out into the hallway. Anger was just as good as wearing a spotlight at parties like this. You put on your calmest, most pleasant smile, found a glass of champagne, and began to wander your way towards the stairs.
There were guards everywhere. Just enough to make getting up the stairs in any kind of subtle fashion impossible. If you tried just burning them all to death you risked your actual target getting spooked and running away. You wanted her to run to the panic room if she was going to run anywhere and that was unlikely if her guards were piles of ash in her hallway. You knew from your prep work that climbing up the outside windows would get you unwanted attention from the guests in the gardens and the neighbors next door with their faces plastered to their bedroom windows, pretending to sneer at their neighbors frivolity while they desperately want to be invited.
A smile slowly spread over your face. You knew of a very easy way to lure the guards from the stairs. It would put McCreeâs business on a time limit but he deserved that sort of stress. You could get an easy out, falling into the chaos.
Your target was in a large, open living area. She stood next to a fireplace, silly thing, a bottle of wine in her hand. Her dress close to the thin glass that sheltered her from the fire.
Was it subtle? No. Was it a brilliant flash of fire that swarmed over her and then down over the carpet? Yes. Could you, an innocent bystander, who screamed and ran for a fire extinguisher, be blamed? Well that would just be silly. The fire extinguisher was quickly ripped from your hands and you were sent out of the room with the rest of the guests as the screams died down and the fire began to spread. It was enough of a distraction to clear your way to the stairs and keep all eyes from you.
âThatâs a lot of screaming.â McCree eyed you as you slipped into the office, content with yourself.
âI got my job done, now time for yours.â You shrugged, âWhereâs the safe? Oh also I set the house on fire.â
âOh? Really? Thatâs new.â McCree pushed a button beneath the desk, causing one of the bookshelves to swing wide. She couldnât even hide it somewhere interesting. Like underneath the floor, or disguised in plain sight. You werenât really one to talk though you wouldnât pass up the chance for a hidden bookshelf safe. You slowly dragged your hand down along the keypad panel, a small line of white hot flame cutting into the metal. Luckily it wasnât one of the trapped safes. You wouldâve needed to call Sombra in if you saw the tell tale branding and the last thing you wanted was her smug face when you tried to pretend you werenât helping Jesse Fucking McCree.
âYou know⌠Winston put out a recall.â
You raised your eyebrow and glanced his way while you dragged your flame to complete the circle, popping the keypad out of place. âDid he? Isnât that illegal.â
âYou work for Talon.â
âFigured Winston was above breaking the law.â You shrugged, tossing the metal piece aside and holding a barely warm flame towards the opening. The safe was filled to the brim. McCree moved to your side and searched for just a second before immediately grabbing a small white box.
âThatâs what weâre for, right?â McCree opened it, smiling warmly at the contents, âThatâs why Iâm rescuing Echo; Winston needs help.â
You frowned, âWhat, are you going to tell me he needs some firepower?â
âI figured Iâd leave the puns to you. Talon aint you. This is you, doing the right thing, even if itâs the wrong way.â
âLike you ever knew me.â You were distracted. Part of you wanted to get angry and start throwing sparks his way. The other of you was aware of the way your other fire was growing, how easily it fed on the art and tapestries that filled the house. There wasnât time for arguing, not really. The both of you should be moving. You shoved him towards the door, pointing to the smoke already slipping through the cracks.
âI always thought we were friends. The only thing we ever argued about was her.â McCree said it with venom. He raised his serape to cover his face and lead the way out of the office.
âFriends? You thought I was the mole!â You snapped, tunneling heat to give yourself some sort of protection from the smoke. You were fireproof, not airborn chemical proof. Moira would take care of it one day.
McCree paused on the stairs, giving you the first angry look youâd seen on his face since, since Overwatch really. But he said nothing. Instead he just lead the way outside, leading you through a small hole in the backyard fence that led out into the tiniest alleyway, right onto the street. You covered your face now. Smoke inhalation could be fixed but cameras seeing you would be a problem. The two of you slipped out of the neighborhood without a trace. Just like old times. You ended up in a small darkened park watching the night sky lit up by the rising flames of an uncontrolled fire. The houses being so close together was a poor decision in the end.
âI never thought it was you, that was bullshit and I argued against it.â McCree snarled, angry not at you but at⌠at your bosses. Old, bosses.Â
âIt didnât make sense. You never lied, ever. About anything, except maybe your feelings about Reyes but even then your lies were weak. Your only contacts were internal. I tried Arson. I tried so damn hard and you know what, I left. There were a lot of reasons that I wrote down that day, and thereâs stuff I canât tell ya. But I know it wasnât you.â
He had you speechless for a moment. All these years you were angry at your friends for not sticking up for you, but the one man you didnât consider a friend was the one who did.
âIâm⌠Iâm sorry.â You leaned on a tree. Stared at your feet for a bit. For someone who worked in intelligence you were real damn wrong. At least being an asshole wasnât a surprise to you; you were quite familiar with the role. McCree snorted and ruffled your hair.
âDonât be, you were screwed over. But things are different now. The worldâs on the brink and it needs us to do something about it. You could be a tide turner.â
â... What if Winston doesnât agree with you though. What if he doesnât want me involved. I mean. Iâve spent over a year working for Talon, if you donât count everything Iâve done for Vishkar.â Not that you were considering it. You were comfortable where you were, not being the good guy. And even if Overwatch was reforming it would be Overwatch, not Blackwatch. There wouldnât be a place for you unless they met to have you on barbeque duty. Sure they could put you in combat but, you werenât an angel or a flash of blue light. You were roaring flame. And how long would it take to connect your powers with the underworld?
âHe wants you there, trust me. Iâve got things to do but, Iâll meet up with you back at Gibraltar. Weâll see things fixed.â
âI didnât say I was going.â
A smug smirk, a tip of his hat, and McCree started walking away. You built up a quick fireball that fizzled out as a thought hit you. One that was far more important than fucking with the people you knew contributed to Overwatchâs fall. One that was personal.
âMcCree. Who do you think it was then.â
âPartner⌠You know who I think it was.â He kept walking, didnât look back. He was wrong of course. Just the same old feelings coming back. There wasnât evidence there⌠and you didnât want to look. Because if you did you would be completely alone. Left to consume yourself to cinders with no one to tell you that everything was going to be okay. Or, rather, without anyone to shake her head calmly and make you drink water until you calmed down. To let you lay about in a lab while you whined about things that, to her, meant nothing. You needed your best friend.
McCree had to be wrong. He had to be.