That, at least, got a chuckle out of him.
“The trendsetter as always, Lacroix, they couldn’ help but follow in yer footsteps.”
The bar was just the type of place he hid in on a regular. he fit in here, talked like the locals, looked like the locals. It was easy to hide from the law with others who were trying to do the same. This was just one stop on his way back to Santa Fe for a visit before moving on. Luck must have had his back.
“How on th’upan’up are ya? Got a text a week or two ago. From Winston of all people. Looks like things’t bad.”
He’s handing over the throwaway phone he hadn’t been contacted on in a long time, letting the other see the mass text.
“Looks like a few of us’r still active.”
Luck had nothing to do with it; despite his atrophy, not all of Gerard’s ears had withered off. Triangulating McCree’s movements, once he’d picked up on the cowboy wannabe’s new profession, had been as simple as finding last known locations for the targets, and heading halfway in between. Then, he simply followed his nose to the stench of beer-gone-stale.
It was almost cute; Winston really must’ve exhausted every methods of contact available to him. Unfortunately, most of those methods were compromised; might as well have sent out a signal flare: hey! We’re going to do something illegal! That made anyone who’d responded to the Recall untouchable, at least for a while. Overwatch was a tainted name.
“Mm. I know he’s still in contact with Oxton. Speaking only for myself, I’ve kept in contact with Reinhardt, and Lindholm through him. Last known location to Shimada is Nepal, and two thirds of our deceased commanding force are somewhere in Egypt. Ziegler is somewhere around there as well, presumably still working out her god complex.” Beat. “I’m supposed to keep my blood pressure down, so I won’t mention that Gabriel has turned his back on sanity and followed O’Deorain like a sweet little puppy to Talon.” Arms folded, one leg folded casual over the other. McCree wasn’t stupid; surely he knew just as well.
“I’ve reached out to two contacts -- a guerrilla in Rio, and a former MEKA pilot in Seoul. Clean, but they both require a bit of assistance before joining up.” This time, he paused to take a sip of his beer, performative. “No back-up, no funding, no over-head...almost certain grisly death. But, just maybe, the chance to make things right. What do you say, Jesse? Updated your passport recently?”
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