#;highmoon

Even working alone McCree had felt their pressure, crossing paths with them on a number of occasions at events or places that both held same interests. This was one such scenario, and from his hidden position the gunslinger could identify two operatives and a medic entering through the warehouse door. It was a good thing that McCree had been delayed in his journeying when he did, for he would have ultimately been spotted by the small crew if he had not.

His shift had come on unexpectedly, influenced by the growing moon that touched just the tips of the trees that framed the surrounding area. It was not quite full yet, perhaps a couple of nights off, although his repeated delay of taking his wolf form in the weeks before had weakened his capability of doing so considerably. He had little time to prepare before his vision went black and a red-hot heat clawed at the skin across his entire body. It would always be painful. Not quite as excruciating as when his shifts first manifested, though hardly comfortable with bones, tendons and muscle elongating and snapping into place.

His attire now left shredded in pieces on the floor was rummaged through for his belt at a width no longer suited for his larger waist. Instead, McCree strapped it around his thick thigh with a clawed hand and nudged his revolver into its holster. In this form he had no further use for it, although he was not about to leave it here to retrieve later lest Talon were alerted to it.

It was a mindset ingrained in his very core, he supposed. To want in a pack - to disclose the deepest secrets, and confide in another the most intimate parts of one’s self. Previous experiences warned him of disclosing too much, for when his true self was eventually exposed he would be shunned for being a beast, the stuff of nightmares and harbinger of horrors that left children squealing in fright in their beds. Those he had come to trust lost their faith in him once he had shown them for what he was, and so he lied to protect them - lied to protect himself. He had lied for most of his adult life, keeping his other life a secret that only he would enjoy in. Loki had been nothing but amicable to he since their meeting of six months ago. In turn, Jesse had enjoyed himself thoroughly in his pretend life: acting as a thirty-something year old college-drop-out that had freshly moved into a flat in Washington. His military-life had been kept on the low, for although stating himself as a former agent of Blackwatch would have been a key ice-breaker, it felt inappropriate to the normality that Loki had brought. As far as the gunslinger knew, the other was just a regularl individual---save for the whole ‘Raven King’ thing. That had come as quite a shock to Jesse although he had taken it in his stride, dazzled by the other’s sincerity and genuine pleasure of spending time with him. He of all people knew of having an alias. In truth, Jesse had moved to the state for its rich forestry and dreary weather it promised. It was everything his wolf side craved, and the only place he could truly exist. Except now a figure had breached his perimeters, lingering on the outskirts of the forest that surrounded his shabby flat. The wolf had smelt him before he saw him, and immediately was his curiousity piqued, hot breath like ribbons floating into the air as he rose to his full impressive height.

‘Why is he here?’ Jesse thought with mild alarm, cautious as to not stir the forest debris beneath his pawed feet as he clung to the shadows the dense trees provided, hoping that it would conceal his form that stood not twenty metres away.

The demand however to never reveal his wolf was something that McCree respected - a protocol he vowed to never break even under the most extreme of circumstances where it may be deemed necessary to use it. He had ushered that oath on the day of his initiation or else he would have faced the persecution that already threatened his livelihood. As expected, McCree chose the former.

Today, however, he had royally screwed up on the only promise he had made as an agent of Blackwatch. Against his greater judgement, McCree shifted in an act of desperation, sliding into the firing line of his fellow comrade that had traced back into the missile’s shot purely by coincidence. That the gunslinger had pre-emptively caught the sniper’s marker was perhaps a miracle, and as the bullet slid deep into his back did he slide to a halt before Lena, the metal lodging itself firmly into his flesh.

McCree was hardly aware of it’s impact, instead the heat of his shift swallowed the acute pain as his freshly-morphed body as he shielded Lena with his considerable size. Sharp golden eyes rose to meet the agent’s immediately, assessing any damage to her face where the bullet had be trained for. Large, clawed hands were upon her waist, steadying her from the lunge he had made and lifting a heartbeat later as to not further frighten her. It was quite the hit to the senses, he suspected. To see a seven-foot beast seemingly materialise in one’s path out of thin air.

It was a familiar scent, one that coaxed some sliver of gentled wonderment in the mind of a beast governed solely by instinct. The scent laced his tongue, the insides of his flared nostrils and he tasted it, familiarised himself with it, acutely aware of each individual marker of musk, blood, cologne, sweat.

The concoction smelt delectable, though it did not expose the creature to be prey nor foe, and neither was the being animal or human in nature. A combination of both perhaps, veiled by something else that even with his sensitive senses, he could not properly identify. The manner of this entity eluded him and he was intrigued by it, ears erect and quivering atop his skull as he strained to hear the footfalls belonging to the creature beneath the chorus of noise of nightlife.