Chapter Text
Jesse McCree; ex criminal, private eye, charming assassin for hire. The alias that Cole Cassidy used for years in Deadlock he now used in his fight against crime as a bounty hunter.
He wasn’t doing this out of the kindness of his heart nor to try to make the world a better place, he did it out of necessity, just as he had stolen and killed for Deadlock.
Bounty hunting paid well and he needed somewhere to stay, putting criminals away was just a bonus. Yet, ever since Operation White Dome, everyone in Blackwatch was technically criminal. He and many in Blackwatch were criminals already, Cassidy was for his whole life. This was nothing new.
After his latest successful bounty, the cowboy sat at a high-end bar nursing a glass of whiskey on the smooth wood of the bar. He allowed himself to let loose due to his large paycheck from the last wanted man he turned in.
He stayed in a cheap motel room that reeked of cigarette smoke anyway, though. It reminded him of his days in Deadlock. It reminded him of Ashe.
The bartender absentmindedly cleaned a glass on the other side of the bar while Cole polished Peacekeeper with his faded, sand green and white paisley serape.
The empty bar was silent other than the tapping of Cassidy’s spurs against the barstool and a television playing the news mounted to the confluence of the walls.
“Hey,” Cole nodded at the bartender after he met his gaze. “You mind turnin’ up the TV?”
The bartender recognized his request, putting the glass and towel down before reaching below the bar and pulling out a black remote. He slid it smoothly down the bar to Cassidy.
“‘Priciate it,” Cassidy said drawled. He turned his gaze to the TV, turning the volume up.
The news anchor, an omnic wearing a pink blazer and pearl necklace, spoke next to a shaky video of a man in a black robe and some kind of white mask fleeing the scene of an explosion. Cole furrowed his brows, focusing on the man.
He worked his jaw in thought. Something about the way he moved felt familiar, it was calculated and purposeful. Possibly ex-military, he thought.
“If anyone can provide us information or the whereabouts of this man or anyone else in the terrorist organization known as Talon, they will be greatly rewarded.” The news anchor continued, but Cole didn’t hear her words. Instead, he smirked. He had found his next paycheck.
♣️♥♦♠️
Cassidy slept at the bar slumped over his drink, hat draped over his head and forearm. His cigar burnt its final cinders in the ashtray to his left, green serape laying on the barstool to his right.
“You okay, man?” The bartender lightly tapped him on his outstretched arm. Cassidy bolted upright, tensed, and grabbed for his gun out of habit.
“Shit, sorry,” He rubbed his eyes, cheeks still ruddy from the drinks.
“Just so you know, we close in an hour and a half.” The bartender nodded to him and slipped through the door frame into the back room.
Slightly sobered up, Cassidy directed his attention to the TV, on its usual channel, securing his hat back onto his head.
His eyes widened when he analyzed the screen. They were live broadcasting a Talon sighting via helicopter- an explosion only five miles away. Cassidy practically jumped from his seat as he pulled his serape on. He fished into the back pocket of his brown saddle pants and slammed money onto the bar.
He retrieved his cigar and clenched it between his teeth, re-lighting it quickly with his gold lighter. In his haste, he didn’t take time to feel the engraved monogram.
He dashed out the door with his metal hand securing his hat.
“I’ve got a score to settle,” he called to the bartender- he never caught his name.
♣️♥♦♠️
“Hey! Get back here, fucker!” Cassidy ran after the black and purple figure through the empty streets. Most people were inside after hearing the explosion and seeing the issued warning by the city.
The figure lost Cole by seemingly teleporting, leaving him alone in a backstreet. The sun began to set in front of him
Out of breath, Cole tried to catch his breath with his hands on his knees.
“Christ,” he breathed out between a puff. Perhaps smoking since he was a kid finally caught up to him.
The two stood in a standoff in the alley holding their respective guns. Cornered with his back a few feet away from the dead end, Cassidy white-knuckled Peacekeeper while Reaper’s clawed gloves grasped two black shotguns.
Their sleek yet simple design reminded Cassidy of what Gabriel would carry when he was alive.
“You like killin’ innocent civilians for Talon?” Cassidy stood tall despite the anxiety of being cornered, the brim of his hat fell slightly over his face.
The figure chuckled, voice distorted from whatever sick modifications Talon gave him.
“You’re barely human yourself,” Cassidy tactlessly scoffed. When Reaper didn’t respond to his snide comment, he tried again “You seem damn familiar, perro .”
“You haven’t changed, always with the quips, vaquero.”
An uncomfortable understanding ripped its way through Cassidy. All of the similarities to Reyes finally fell into place like when he would play dominos with the gang.
“Reyes,” his voice was barely above a hoarse whisper.
“What's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.” Reaper laughed coldly with mock sympathy.
Cole did not hear laughter from the formidable man frequently during his days in Blackwatch, but he knew what he sounded like. Now, it was a rigid dichotomy to what his voice and rare but comforting laugh used to be.
Cole stepped forward and grabbed his arm in a second of poor decision making only to be met with purple tendrils of smoke that wrapped around his hand, the cool mist sending a cold shock through his body.
“What did you do? Why did you do this to yoursel-" He looked at Gabriel Reaper, wide-eyed.
"Moira did this." Reaper reformed himself three steps away from Cole, leaning away from his empty grasp that only trapped the purple smoke briefly.
Cassidy felt slightly hurt over the rejection of contact but continued his questioning.
"You let her?"
"..."
"I would have died at the Swiss HQ. The drugs from the SEP were also atrophying my muscles but a little pain never stopped me.” Reaper scoffed something alien yet similar to a laugh.
"Why? How was this the only way?" he raised his voice and gritted his teeth defensively at Reaper for his nonchalance.
He ignored Cole's question. "But, anything that isn't clay to her hands she wants no part in. In Blackwatch I let her experiment on me- to make me stronger. Jack wanted me to stop, said I was ‘losing myself’, but I didn’t." Reaper said Jack’s name as if it was bitter alcohol on his tongue.
“You let 'er? Why?" he flexed his fingers into a loose grasp to his sides in fury.
"I had nothing to lose.”
Cole stepped back, steadying himself with his arms. His head spun, and he felt like he couldn’t get enough air in his lungs.
“You had a fiancé who loved you. You had soldiers who respected you with their lives. You had me. I loved you, Gabe. You were my father,” He growled at the man, ignoring how his voice wavered slightly at the end.
He felt the corners of his eyes sting with tears and his throat tighten but he continued. He swallowed. "If you couldn’t fuckin’ tell.”
The white mask showed no emotions. Cole’s stomach hurt from the lack of vulnerability by who used to be Gabriel in comparison to his own.
“You don’t know me, Cole. You never knew me. Don’t act like you thought I cared about you. You were a soldier to me in Blackwatch, nothing more. ” Reaper removed his owl mask and revealed his gnarled face.
The words that made Cassidy’s stomach churn and bile rise in his throat were soon forgotten when he saw the wraith’s face. It was familiar yet slightly off- uncanny.
More scars ran across his face than before and the purple particles converged near his cheek, the top row of teeth visible on the right side of his face. Yet, despite the man’s teeth clearly in sight, most startling of all was how pale he was.
Gabriel had always run cold while Cole ran warm. Cole always had a red tinge to his cheeks and Gabriel was always tan and sharp- a healthy contrast. Yet, he never looked so much like a cadaver on a gurney.
His eyes- once whiskey brown were clouded and gray. Sometimes a drink feels like family.
Reaper grabbed Cole by the neck, the bounty hunter’s eyes wide with shock. The two struggled briefly for control but Reaper held Cassidy to the wall of the alleyway, slamming his back against the rough bricks.
The breath was knocked from Cole as he grabbed Reaper's gloved hands.
Reaper grabbed Peacekeeper from Cassidy’s holster, one hand on his neck cutting off airflow. He flung the gun carelessly to the ground and kicked it backwards, out of Cassidy’s reach.
Reaper made eye contact with the man, making sure to see the look on his face when he growled out his words.
“All you ever were was my loyal soldier, a dog to do my bidding so I could be Strike Commander, yet you failed your one purpose.”
Cassidy felt like he was the terrified, exhausted, lonely kid he was when Gabriel first held his shotgun at him in Texas. Yet, instead of taking away his feelings of dread and anxiety due to his measures to get the boy into Blackwatch and to stability, it was now he who caused them.
This wasn’t his Gabriel. This wasn’t the man he had known for years who became something akin to a rough around the edges yet caring father to him, this was Reaper. The terrorist, the murderer, the callous shell of a man he once cared about.
“Why haven’t you killed me?” Cole studied his cloudy, once intense yet caring eyes, but he came back empty-handed.
“That would be too easy.”
With the same words exchanged years ago, Reaper dissolved into nothing but cold, purple smoke, dropping the cowboy from his grip. He left nothing behind to prove his existence but the purple feather of a raven, not bothering to take Cole’s prized possession with him.
Cole sank to the ground on his knees gripping Peacekeeper to his chest with his organic arm. He heaved on the concrete, not only to catch his breath.
✮🌵｡⋆The End⋆°🌵✮