“Well I have to, don’t I now? You’re here so I have to check up on you.”

         He quietly removed his comms the moment he wasn’t being watched like a hawk, turned them on, slipped them  into his back pocket. He knows that eventually they’ll be traced and that eventually someone, Genji, Gabe, maybe will  come for him. 

        A man he used to runs with, Johansen, gets into a crouch,  pulls out a knife the size of Jesse’s forearm. His dark eyes never leave the knife but it’s not time for that just yet. Instead  Jesse’s shirt and armor is cut off bit by bit with a promise of  “You aint gonna be needing that.”. He takes his shoes, too.

      Jesse knows what’s coming. He’s seen it.

       “His comms are back online.” It’s what draws Gabriel out of his thoughts. The man has been near frantically retracing his steps, trying to figure out where they’d gone wrong. Where they’d lost him. How to get their agent back. Blackwatch was many things but men didn’t get left behind and he’d be damned if he let McCree slip through the cracks.

                   [“you aint gonna be needing that.”]

        Gabriel turns slightly at Ana’s arrival, already knowing why she  was here. “his comms are back online. We haven’t been able to get  a solid trace on them yet. some kind of interference.”

        ❛  i cannot trust my life in the hands of a perfect stranger.  ❜

        it was a cold thing to state, but it was candid. hanzo had not the faintest clue of her existence. promise as she could, hanzo was not so IMMEDIATE in his trust to place belief upon her. he held a few injuries but none carried a critical weight upon him. && the gun  —  a rifle  — that was aimed at him prior did not provide reassurance. 

out of all DISCOVERIES to make -- this was the last one she was expecting. to think -- her work, her determination to heal the world tender from war, brought her to the woman’s feet. and with perfect timing. wings spread -- glittering in the blistering sun -- racing through stale air and whistling bullets -- to land at her side. she’s EXHAUSTED -- wounded, aching... and though disappointment had shaped her every delicate feature -- how could angela refuse a soul in need? 

staff construct a stream of golden light -- a healing surge rushing towards the other, enveloping her in COMPASSION. 

gaze lowers from the unmasked face -- drained and aged -- and yet, far from different -- to the rifle resting at her side. she takes note of the modifications, recognizing that single similarity -- and the rumors, the statement of BETRAYAL she had actively denied, surfaced -- and lips pursed, lined with the dissatisfaction for the treacherous. 

                                   ❝ so this is where you have been. ❞

[7D noises]

                                                                            SHE’S FRIENDLY FIRE SHE’S AN HONEST LIAR

                                             BUT YOU HAVEN’T                                               WITNESSED THEM                                                          YET.