I've still got it.

[acceptedmyself]

@grizzledvigilante​

Genji almost never let himself get sidetracked on a mission. But the rare instances where it happened, it usually was for a good reason. In this case, it was because his investigations were putting him on the track of something noteworthy enough to report back to Winston and the others. After all, what were the odd, for their group and the famed Soldier: 76 to be after the same target?

He was staying hidden in the shadows of the night, observing his mark from a distance as he snooped around the very same supposed Talon outpost the cyborg was also supposed to keep an eye on. He followed the man for a while, minding his every move to avoid detection, when just as suddenly, the old soldier had vanished without a trace after passing a corner.

Wondering if he missed a branching path or something of the sort, Genji stepped out of his hiding place and began looking around. Only when he felt a presence behind him did he realize he had fallen for the oldest trick in the book. He rolled his eyes under his mask and rose his arms in surrender before he even heard the clicking of a pulse rifle being pressed against his nape.

“Hmph. I must have lost my edge. You used to be much simpler to tail, Commander.”

“I can hardly blame you for being suspicious, but starting a fight so close to an enemy base does not sound like a good idea.”

[grizzledvigilante]

This job seemed simple enough. Just scouting for more information to attack later. He hadn’t really pumped himself up enough for an actual fight; even Ana wasn’t here at the moment.

It took him a moment to realize something was following him. Were his senses dimming with age? No, whoever this was must just be incredibly quiet. Or maybe he should’ve gotten his ears checked after the explosion. That couldn’t have been good for his hearing.

He slipped behind a corner and went around, pointing his rifle carefully. Despite not being incredibly prepared, he was always able to get himself back into the fighting groove. Or at least pretend to.

When he puts the rifle against the person, the sound it makes is...odd. It sounds more like a clink of metal. As he sees a bright green glow coming from where the man’s eyes would be, realization hits him. “Oh. Shimada,” he says. Genji wasn’t exactly easy to mistake for anyone else once you could see him. 

Then he realized. “Wait. Commander? Was my disguise really that bad?”

It doesn’t leave him feeling particularly threatened, though. Genji’s never been a threat, and they were on roughly the same side. Slowly, he lowers his rifle, setting back into a resting position; still able to be used just in case, but not active.

Mostly, he’s just mad it was that easy to see through him.

[grizzledvigilante]

Overwatch: 11th Hour

A new RP Discord server is officially OPEN! We accept OCs, AUs, and are multiverse-friendly (aka we accept multiple versions of the same character). 

In this server, there is an in-character group chat along with interactions in various locations within the Overwatch universe. Characters from many timelines all converge on one universe.

Here’s the invite link: 

https://discord.gg/sDJaNYzq

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

Markus pointed at himself.

“See this? It’s my jealous face. My mom was - I guess she still is - allergic to apples. I didn’t have apple pie until I got to Overwatch. And I also had the cow talking uncle but it was Terry and non Bob. Let me build all sorts of stuff playing around in the scrap heap he had on a couple acres. Just… Tons of stuff. I have no idea what he actually did but that man? Had the best junk.”

His smile felt natural, and for now he was willing to ignore what it was they were really doing here. He missed feeling normal; for a second he wondered if Jack did too.

“But yeah, I think we all tried to bail as soon as we could. I think my brother is the only one who stayed and… Huh… Truthfully I have no idea what any of them are doing at this point and I think it would scare the shit out of them if I checked,” that and his mom would be disappointed. She had been so proud of him before; he had never been nobody to them.

“I think I woulda liked hearing about your chickens though.”

[grizzledvigilante]

She still is.

This brought Jack back to a familiar pain; his mother was still alive, but he couldn’t see her. It was too dangerous. So she had to continue to believe that her son was dead. Letting her go has been unbelievably difficult, and he misses her every day. 

Tears began to well up in his eyes. Fuck. This was so humiliating. All he could think of was how much he missed being able to call his mom when he was hurting; how she would always be so understanding, tell him she loved him, and made him feel like he was worth something. He wanted to see her so badly. But if he did that, she might not survive. That was something he’d never be able to forgive himself for. 

He shook his head, trying to wipe his eyes as discreetly as possible. Dear God, if Markus saw him crying...he didn’t want to think about that.

“My uncle had a lot of wood lying around. No one knew where he got it, but I used it to practice building stuff. Think I’m probably still good at it,” Jack said; he managed to reset himself back to casual conversation almost immediately. Wear that poker face, Jack. You’ve always been shit at it, but if there’s any time to learn, it’s now.

“The chickens were assholes,” Jack said. “Almost all of them were mean all the time.”

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

“Give me a week and I’ll get you two together,” he said with a thumbs up. Presumably, it wouldn’t be a problem unless Jace hung up the phone on him or slammed the door in his face or, the most likely option, was just busy doing something else and couldn’t make it in a week.

That was usually the most likely thing that happened.

For all the talk of him being nobody, of him banking on that fact, Markus James would have been shocked to think of the number of people who would be willing to help him if he asked. The problem was that he didn’t ask. He didn’t push. He didn’t think he could drag people back in not realizing that sometimes all someone needed was -

Anyway. That was beyond the point, and more in the realm of the conceptual. But it was what fueled his response -

And when you’re my age and in this line of work, awkwardness isn’t really a luxury you have. “Don’t think I’m going to make it long enough to lose my awkwardness privileges, but if I do I’m going to enjoy them while I have them,” with a little wave and a chuff that could have been a laugh. If he joked about it, the thought of what would be waiting for him the minute he makes a big enough mistake would seem less real.

Another second passed, then an actual, genuine laugh.

“I’m sorry, I can’t get over that I’m actually talking to you. I used to be terrified of saying the wrong thing in front of you or Mister Lindholm.”

[grizzledvigilante]

“A week…” He considered it. “I can work with that. I’ve hid for way longer than that before,” he said, with a tch sound.

Jack hummed. He didn’t really like Markus having to feel like his life was so limited. Sure, it’d been a very long time since they’d known each other, but…nobody should have to be afraid for their lives all the time.

But Jack probably couldn’t help with that anyway. It wasn’t as if he was in much position to keep him safe from his own bosses. So he stayed quiet about it.

Jack was a bit caught off guard by the comment; sometimes he forgot that he was an international leader at one point. It all seemed so far away now, and he sure as hell didn’t want to go back.

“Eh. I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “Back then, me being ‘scary’ was mostly hot air. I was a total pushover.”

I still am, he thought, but definitely wasn’t going to say that bit of honesty aloud.

[el-sacrificio]

“If we knew that before, do you know the kind of nonsense we would have tried to push through in research and development? We wrote an entire proposal about why the UN needed to give us funding to build a trebuchet.”

Engineers get bored.

“I spent a long… Long time trying to seem like I wasn’t some farm kid who got lucky,” there was that amused, candid embarrassment that he had worn years before. Markus ran a hand through his hair, “I remember genuinely thinking they’ve got to be messing with me when I showed up at base for the first time.”

[grizzledvigilante]

He shook his head. “Sadly, I wasn’t the only one you would’ve had to go through. I might have let you build that just ‘cause it’d be funny.”

Farm kid. No way. Jack laughed; a hearty, big one. He felt as if he was going to fall over. “Buddy, ‘farm kid that got lucky’ is an exact description of your former Strike Commander.” He adjusted himself in his chair to keep himself from falling. “If I’d have known that, I could’ve talked to you about farm junk all day. Used to drive Gabriel crazy with that stuff.” On purpose, of course. For just a moment, a bit of genuine excitement slipped past his soldier persona at the prospect of meeting another farm boy. “Trust me, I thought that people were messing with me when they gave me the position.”

[dames-de-talon]

Which is what got a laugh out of him, a real, honest-to-god laugh. This all felt so normal. Like, for a moment there wasn’t a backdrop of awfulness lurking behind them; you take the moments you can. 

“Are you kidding me? Gawd I had no clue,” he leaned back against the wall, adjusting his posture again to be more comfortable and less likely to get up and run. “I feel like nobody told me because they thought they were saving you from hours of talk about tractors and my opinions about corn versus wheat.” 

“Though hearing that you were a farm kid too makes me wonder if there’s just something about being surrounded by pasture that makes people want to save the world.” 

[grizzledvigilante]

“As if I don’t talk about that myself,” Jack said, smirking. “Could tell you about tractors, my Mama’s apple pie recipes, my huge family, my weird Uncle Bob that said he could talk to cows, raising chickens...” He trailed off, realizing he was rambling. “The point is, I’m the one you’d want to talk to about that.”

Jack was feeling a bit more comfortable, too. Although his memories of Markus weren’t incredibly detailed, this felt more in line with the kindly engineer than with some Talon lackey. 

“Or makes people wanna get the hell out of there,” Jack grunted. “Miss that place, though,” he said, a wistful smile on his face. Oh, shit. That was way too sentimental. He hated the feeling of letting his guard down around anyone other than Ana, but it was a difficult thing for him to avoid.

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

“Give me a week and I’ll get you two together,” he said with a thumbs up. Presumably, it wouldn’t be a problem unless Jace hung up the phone on him or slammed the door in his face or, the most likely option, was just busy doing something else and couldn’t make it in a week.

That was usually the most likely thing that happened.

For all the talk of him being nobody, of him banking on that fact, Markus James would have been shocked to think of the number of people who would be willing to help him if he asked. The problem was that he didn’t ask. He didn’t push. He didn’t think he could drag people back in not realizing that sometimes all someone needed was -

Anyway. That was beyond the point, and more in the realm of the conceptual. But it was what fueled his response -

And when you’re my age and in this line of work, awkwardness isn’t really a luxury you have. “Don’t think I’m going to make it long enough to lose my awkwardness privileges, but if I do I’m going to enjoy them while I have them,” with a little wave and a chuff that could have been a laugh. If he joked about it, the thought of what would be waiting for him the minute he makes a big enough mistake would seem less real.

Another second passed, then an actual, genuine laugh.

“I’m sorry, I can’t get over that I’m actually talking to you. I used to be terrified of saying the wrong thing in front of you or Mister Lindholm.”

[grizzledvigilante]

“A week…” He considered it. “I can work with that. I’ve hid for way longer than that before,” he said, with a tch sound.

Jack hummed. He didn’t really like Markus having to feel like his life was so limited. Sure, it’d been a very long time since they’d known each other, but…nobody should have to be afraid for their lives all the time.

But Jack probably couldn’t help with that anyway. It wasn’t as if he was in much position to keep him safe from his own bosses. So he stayed quiet about it.

Jack was a bit caught off guard by the comment; sometimes he forgot that he was an international leader at one point. It all seemed so far away now, and he sure as hell didn’t want to go back.

“Eh. I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “Back then, me being ‘scary’ was mostly hot air. I was a total pushover.”

I still am, he thought, but definitely wasn’t going to say that bit of honesty aloud.

[el-sacrificio]

“If we knew that before, do you know the kind of nonsense we would have tried to push through in research and development? We wrote an entire proposal about why the UN needed to give us funding to build a trebuchet.”

Engineers get bored.

“I spent a long… Long time trying to seem like I wasn’t some farm kid who got lucky,” there was that amused, candid embarrassment that he had worn years before. Markus ran a hand through his hair, “I remember genuinely thinking they’ve got to be messing with me when I showed up at base for the first time.”

[grizzledvigilante]

He shook his head. “Sadly, I wasn’t the only one you would’ve had to go through. I might have let you build that just ‘cause it’d be funny.”

Farm kid. No way. Jack laughed; a hearty, big one. He felt as if he was going to fall over. “Buddy, ‘farm kid that got lucky’ is an exact description of your former Strike Commander.” He adjusted himself in his chair to keep himself from falling. “If I’d have known that, I could’ve talked to you about farm junk all day. Used to drive Gabriel crazy with that stuff.” On purpose, of course. For just a moment, a bit of genuine excitement slipped past his soldier persona at the prospect of meeting another farm boy. “Trust me, I thought that people were messing with me when they gave me the position.”

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

“Give me a week and I’ll get you two together,” he said with a thumbs up. Presumably, it wouldn’t be a problem unless Jace hung up the phone on him or slammed the door in his face or, the most likely option, was just busy doing something else and couldn’t make it in a week.

That was usually the most likely thing that happened.

For all the talk of him being nobody, of him banking on that fact, Markus James would have been shocked to think of the number of people who would be willing to help him if he asked. The problem was that he didn’t ask. He didn’t push. He didn’t think he could drag people back in not realizing that sometimes all someone needed was -

Anyway. That was beyond the point, and more in the realm of the conceptual. But it was what fueled his response -

And when you’re my age and in this line of work, awkwardness isn’t really a luxury you have. “Don’t think I’m going to make it long enough to lose my awkwardness privileges, but if I do I’m going to enjoy them while I have them,” with a little wave and a chuff that could have been a laugh. If he joked about it, the thought of what would be waiting for him the minute he makes a big enough mistake would seem less real.

Another second passed, then an actual, genuine laugh.

“I’m sorry, I can’t get over that I’m actually talking to you. I used to be terrified of saying the wrong thing in front of you or Mister Lindholm.”

[grizzledvigilante]

“A week...” He considered it. “I can work with that. I’ve hid for way longer than that before,” he said, with a tch sound.

Jack hummed. He didn’t really like Markus having to feel like his life was so limited. Sure, it’d been a very long time since they’d known each other, but...nobody should have to be afraid for their lives all the time.

But Jack probably couldn’t help with that anyway. It wasn’t as if he was in much position to keep him safe from his own bosses. So he stayed quiet about it.

Jack was a bit caught off guard by the comment; sometimes he forgot that he was an international leader at one point. It all seemed so far away now, and he sure as hell didn’t want to go back.

“Eh. I’ll tell you a secret,” he said. “Back then, me being ‘scary’ was mostly hot air. I was a total pushover.”

I still am, he thought, but definitely wasn’t going to say that bit of honesty aloud.

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

Sounds like a freak.

It brought out a laugh, “you don’t know the half of it. From what I gather she’s just gotten worse after Rialto. Siobhan is psychotic… but I think Talon just gave her an outlet. She’d do this even if Talon didn’t exist.”

The rest of it did seem to put him in a good enough mood - morbid though it all may be. Time had enabled Markus to develop a darker sense of humor than he would have had under normal circumstances. He scoffed, “a mountain? Come on now, Morrison, have a little faith. They wouldn’t crash you into a mountain, but a mesa on the other hand…” He did have a grin on his face, and his expression was a playful sort of amused.

The expression, however, did soften, “god damn I missed this.”

Being normal.

[grizzledvigilante]

Rialto…not a location that gave him good memories. He put that aside.

That got a smile out of Jack. He visibly relaxed, leaning back slightly in his chair. At least a bit less tense. This was still unusual, and scary, and really fucking weird, but he at least didn’t seem to be in danger for the time being.

“I’d like to at least meet them beforehand. Not very good at this ‘trusting people’ thing,” he said, shaking his head. It was at least still lighthearted, despite how depressing the reality was of why he didn’t trust people.

[el-sacrificio]

“Not a problem. You plan on lingering for a week or do you need to keep moving?” a sincere enough question, not needing more of the specifics outside of a timeframe. 

“Pilot’s based out of Black Mesa in the Oklahoma pan handle. Nobody ever bothers to look for anything out there, nothing but red dirt and cows,” and, apparently, a former Talon pilot who got out of the game largely unscathed, “Jace makes a lot of runs though. Planes aren’t cheap to keep up. Either I can get you two an actual meeting or I can give you their contact information.”

He then let out  a little laugh, “you know, you would think I’d be good at doing the whole set up a clandestine meeting thing at this point, but it never stops being awkward. Did it ever stop being awkward for you?”

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack considered it for a moment. “Guess I don’t have anywhere else to go,” he said, with a shrug. His leads were a bit dry at the moment; that’s why he even went after this place at all, considering how little use it would have been even if it had gone as well as possible.

“Doesn’t sound too bad, actually,” Jack said; he missed wide open spaces and peaceful farms more than anything. When he was a child, all he wanted to do was escape the farm, but God would he give anything to get it back now. 

“I’d rather meet. See them for myself,” he added, still not entirely trusting whoever this person was. Not until he met them, at least. “And when you’re my age and in this line of work, awkwardness isn’t really a luxury you have.”

A lie, of course. It was difficult for Jack to not feel awkward in almost any one-on-one social situation; he was more suited for crowds. But that bit of weakness was something he kept to himself as much as possible.

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

Sounds like a freak.

It brought out a laugh, “you don’t know the half of it. From what I gather she’s just gotten worse after Rialto. Siobhan is psychotic… but I think Talon just gave her an outlet. She’d do this even if Talon didn’t exist.”

The rest of it did seem to put him in a good enough mood - morbid though it all may be. Time had enabled Markus to develop a darker sense of humor than he would have had under normal circumstances. He scoffed, “a mountain? Come on now, Morrison, have a little faith. They wouldn’t crash you into a mountain, but a mesa on the other hand…” He did have a grin on his face, and his expression was a playful sort of amused.

The expression, however, did soften, “god damn I missed this.”

Being normal.

[grizzledvigilante]

Rialto...not a location that gave him good memories. He put that aside.

That got a smile out of Jack. He visibly relaxed, leaning back slightly in his chair. At least a bit less tense. This was still unusual, and scary, and really fucking weird, but he at least didn’t seem to be in danger for the time being.

“I’d like to at least meet them beforehand. Not very good at this ‘trusting people’ thing,” he said, shaking his head. It was at least still lighthearted, despite how depressing the reality was of why he didn’t trust people.

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

“See, Morrison, I always had the sneaking suspicion that you weren’t actually blond. Someone found out, you faked your death. Completely normal response,” punctuated with a grin, something to hopefully defuse the mounting tensions. 

Which, of course, was what he was going to need in order to pass on and cover the next set of topics. The cross-examination. The moment where he gets to talk about it all for once - even if it wouldn’t make a difference. Even if so much wasn’t going to end up explained. There were still things he couldn’t explain. 

But the big question came: did he support them? Really support Talon? 

“No. There is nothing that Talon as an organization does that is right at its core,” and this, this was where it became complicated, “it’s easier to take it all down from the inside than it is from the outside. And there are people in Talon who bought a lie, or were so damaged and broken that this is all they know… and I can’t abandon them.”

“And I guess.. it really is for the best that-” Overwatch was gone “- just means that when the inevitable happens, I don’t have anyone to sell out even if I wanted to..” 

[grizzledvigilante]

If nothing else, he did manage a laugh at that.

Sadly enough, they did have to get back to business. He looks down at he ground. He hates thinking of Talon this way. Although he doesn’t usually kill on purpose, it inevitably does happen sometimes; if he thinks of them as normal people that have just fallen into unfortunate circumstances, he’ll have to face the fact that he cut many people’s lives short that may not have been completely irredeemable. It’s not a comforting thought.

A deep frown forms on his face. “The inevitable, huh…” Signing yourself away to that – knowing that will likely be your fate someday, and not running away or fighting and dying a hero – was something Jack couldn’t imagine doing.

He wished he could relate to having no one to sell out.

“…I guess I get it,” he said, finally. “Even if I couldn’t do it myself.” 

“But that makes me wonder. Have you made any progress in taking them down?”

[el-sacrificio]

“I’m a weapons designer. I can’t tell you the number of devices that outright failed because whoever designed them for Talon never bothered to double check and see if someone tampered with them. And whoever does the manufacturing just trusts that they’re right.” It was easy to forget looking at him now that the man was, and is, an engineer. A damned fine one at that, and his lack of previous presence as well as the lack of time in the field had been part of why he was the perfect plant. Markus James was nobody. An unaccounted asset.

“I’ve had a few wins here and there. Some people - agents and targets - that got out. Some cohorts who didn’t come back from missions,” he sighed, neither proud nor ashamed, but rather… disturbed by how easy this was getting. Disturbed by the fact that he wasn’t ashamed.

“I’m making some progress. And I have a superior officer who lets me get away with a lot so long as I don’t impede her hunt. Snipers are not normal people, I swear to God… but yeah… There’s been a lot of harm reduction, but I can’t do this alone. Most of the like minded people I find want out, not to stay in,” he laughed, actually sounding a little happy about it, “but if you ever need a pilot, I know some people who might be game to help.”

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack gave a chuckle. He liked that bit of a snarky streak. Reminded him of Gabriel. “I guess that means I have a chance even if they’ve got me at gunpoint,” he says, with a scoff.

Jack didn’t like the fact that it was only some, but he knew that was unreasonably judgmental. He couldn’t expect him to save everyone. Not everyone could live that way. So, he didn’t verbalize it.

“Sounds like a freak,” he says, feeling a bit comfortable hearing about a Talon member that really was awful. It was just easier that way. 

A pilot? That offer caught him off guard. He expected this to not end well for him at all - he reminded himself of just how many ways I could’ve gone wrong. “Might take you up on that. Hopefully they don’t crash me into a mountain,” he says, with a bitter chuckle. Dark humor had never been his thing when he was more optimistic, but things change.

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

“See, Morrison, I always had the sneaking suspicion that you weren’t actually blond. Someone found out, you faked your death. Completely normal response,” punctuated with a grin, something to hopefully defuse the mounting tensions. 

Which, of course, was what he was going to need in order to pass on and cover the next set of topics. The cross-examination. The moment where he gets to talk about it all for once - even if it wouldn’t make a difference. Even if so much wasn’t going to end up explained. There were still things he couldn’t explain. 

But the big question came: did he support them? Really support Talon? 

“No. There is nothing that Talon as an organization does that is right at its core,” and this, this was where it became complicated, “it’s easier to take it all down from the inside than it is from the outside. And there are people in Talon who bought a lie, or were so damaged and broken that this is all they know… and I can’t abandon them.”

“And I guess.. it really is for the best that-” Overwatch was gone “- just means that when the inevitable happens, I don’t have anyone to sell out even if I wanted to..” 

[grizzledvigilante]

If nothing else, he did manage a laugh at that.

Sadly enough, they did have to get back to business. He looks down at he ground. He hates thinking of Talon this way. Although he doesn’t usually kill on purpose, it inevitably does happen sometimes; if he thinks of them as normal people that have just fallen into unfortunate circumstances, he’ll have to face the fact that he cut many people’s lives short that may not have been completely irredeemable. It’s not a comforting thought.

A deep frown forms on his face. “The inevitable, huh...” Signing yourself away to that -- knowing that will likely be your fate someday, and not running away or fighting and dying a hero -- was something Jack couldn’t imagine doing.

He wished he could relate to having no one to sell out.

“...I guess I get it,” he said, finally. “Even if I couldn’t do it myself.” 

“But that makes me wonder. Have you made any progress in taking them down?”

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

He exhaled some short, mirthless laugh before readjusting is posture. Hands went from being clasped in front of him to resting his elbows on his knees and pressing his back hard against the nearby wall as though he needed some kind of anchor. “So none of you are actually dead. I… am… not actually… surprised?”

Somehow, none of them being dead wasn’t the comfort he had hoped it would be. 

“I want to be mad, I want to be surprised, I want to feel betrayed but… I don’t. I want to. I mean, fuck, I really… really want to,” but he wasn’t. He wasn’t mad. He wasn’t upset, he was just… nothing. There wasn’t anything there, like he’d spent so long shelving things into places that he wasn’t even sure how to be himself anymore. What he had was his mission. 

“That’s… that’s all I have. I suppose you probably have questions, and it’ll be easier to just answer them instead of recapping what I’ve found for the last few years.”

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack starred at him quizzically. “Damn, you’re not surprised? I was hoping my cover was a little better than that.” Was that a joke? He wasn’t sure. “Guess it’s kinda nice to not get yelled at this time. I know I deserve it, but...” He trailed off, not finishing the thought.

“Yeah. I do,” he said, shifting in his chair. “You don’t really support them, right?” He shuddered at the possibility. “And if you don’t, how can you stay? Did they threaten you?”

[grizzledvigilante]

// Measuring interest: what if I made a Overwatch RP Discord server that was friendly to multiple versions of the same character and OCs? 

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

Body armor is heavy.

He had grown accustomed to wearing it, but the minute that he could take it off it felt like the most profound relief. In one of the more candid moments, his superior had once told him that taking off your uniform was the closest her male counterparts would ever get to understanding what it would be like to taking your bra off after a long day. She was a different sort of monster, but more human than most.

That was what made it terrifying. Knowing that all of the terrible things he’d seen weren’t atrocities committed by things cut from a different cloth. They were people. It was what occupied his thoughts on the way there. He had lines; the hard ones stayed but this operation made him realize what principles were unwavering and what rules were more like guidelines.

But there they were now, and the younger man took a seat in the floor. It was the same Markus as before, though. The same posture Jack had seen when he poured over his work beside a drafting table instead of at it, when he was building prototypes, when he was soaking in everything he could and asking for more. Less farm boy strength and more something that was trained. Experienced. He’d never be bulky but he could certainly throw - and take - a punch.

“What are you looking for?” Again, the same man. Focused on results and solutions. Here and now. “And what made you think you should do all of this alone?”

A bold assumption that he wasn’t getting help, but… was Markus wrong?

[grizzledvigilante]

He supposed that wouldn’t be giving away too much - it wasn’t as if the actions of Soldier: 76 were much of a secret. The news media made that an impossibility.

”Answers,” he started. Probably a useless response. “How things went so wrong. Who was destroying Overwatch. There’s more to the story than we’re supposed to know. Everyone says it was Gabriel, of course, but…” He looked away, balling his hand into a fist. “I won’t believe that.”

He continued. “I’m alone ‘cause I know no one else would understand. Me, Gabriel, and Ana…we had something other people didn’t get. And never will.” He glanced at Markus, frown deepening. “And when I fuck up, I fix it myself. Not anyone else’s responsibility.”

Of course, this was leaving out how he wanted to save Gabriel, but that was nobody else’s business. Those emotions were locked away as tightly as possible.

[el-sacrificio]

“Blaming Reyes for all of it would be convenient. People like neatly wrapped packages with bows and beginnings and ends. We don’t like messes.”

And that was where Markus was, wasn’t it? In a mess? In the middle of a big goddamned mess wading through it and trying to clean up what he could while the pile got higher.  

It was punctuated with a sigh, though. A slow shrug and raise of his shoulders, “it makes sense, though. If you’d asked me… six… seven years ago?” how long had it been? How long had it been? The way he mentioned time sounded uncertain, like he’d stopped keeping track anymore. Like he didn’t want to think about the possibility he’d been with Talon longer than he’d been with Overwatch. “I would have bought it. Nobody knows everything. People don’t see the moving parts and nobody gets to know the full story… it makes sense that you’re looking for that then… and I guess it’s comforting to know that you didn’t have all the pieces either.”

He drew in another breath, something long and deep until it hurt his lungs. Markus clenches his fists once before interlocking his fingers in front of himself.

“… Did anybody ever think to tell me things were over? Or was I a lost asset to you all?”

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack flinched at the question, as that familiar guilt rose within him. He had made the choice to abandon Overwatch after the explosion, and the consequences of that were something he tried to keep out of his mind. So many like Markus were left to pick up the pieces of their own lives. They could’ve used his help. It was probably too late for that now.

“I...” He paused. “I turned my back on all of it. I wanted to erase myself from any involvement with Overwatch.”

Had he just been running away from his problems? The thought was too upsetting, so he just avoided it as much as possible. But other people had paid the price for his immaturity, and that had been thrust in his face more and more often in recent days.

“Me, Ana, and Gabe -- Reyes” (He tried to avoid the nickname in this type of situation) -- “We ran off. The other leaders...I’m not even sure how many of them would’ve cared,” he said, bitterly. Snakes. 

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

Body armor is heavy.

He had grown accustomed to wearing it, but the minute that he could take it off it felt like the most profound relief. In one of the more candid moments, his superior had once told him that taking off your uniform was the closest her male counterparts would ever get to understanding what it would be like to taking your bra off after a long day. She was a different sort of monster, but more human than most.

That was what made it terrifying. Knowing that all of the terrible things he’d seen weren’t atrocities committed by things cut from a different cloth. They were people. It was what occupied his thoughts on the way there. He had lines; the hard ones stayed but this operation made him realize what principles were unwavering and what rules were more like guidelines.

But there they were now, and the younger man took a seat in the floor. It was the same Markus as before, though. The same posture Jack had seen when he poured over his work beside a drafting table instead of at it, when he was building prototypes, when he was soaking in everything he could and asking for more. Less farm boy strength and more something that was trained. Experienced. He’d never be bulky but he could certainly throw - and take - a punch.

“What are you looking for?” Again, the same man. Focused on results and solutions. Here and now. “And what made you think you should do all of this alone?”

A bold assumption that he wasn’t getting help, but… was Markus wrong?

[grizzledvigilante]

He supposed that wouldn’t be giving away too much - it wasn’t as if the actions of Soldier: 76 were much of a secret. The news media made that an impossibility.

”Answers,” he started. Probably a useless response. “How things went so wrong. Who was destroying Overwatch. There’s more to the story than we’re supposed to know. Everyone says it was Gabriel, of course, but...” He looked away, balling his hand into a fist. “I won’t believe that.”

He continued. “I’m alone ‘cause I know no one else would understand. Me, Gabriel, and Ana...we had something other people didn’t get. And never will.” He glanced at Markus, frown deepening. “And when I fuck up, I fix it myself. Not anyone else’s responsibility.”

Of course, this was leaving out how he wanted to save Gabriel, but that was nobody else’s business. Those emotions were locked away as tightly as possible.

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

His eyes widen and he put his finger up to his lips, ending that thought with a hard look and raised brows. Discretion was more than the better part of valor, drawing too much attention could blow everything, and Markus was nothing if not committed to his task… even if nobody else remembered he was there at all.

Did he-

“… do you actually want to know the answer, or are you going to convince me that I’m wrong? If people can’t change, if people can’t be redeemed, then why don’t you shoot to kill?” A second passed, and he looked at the man, tried to catch his eyes for a second and get some sort of perspective, as though making some sort of contact would make it make sense.

“This isn’t your fault. None of it. Not the war, not the conflict, not any of this… We make choices. I didn’t say I regretted my choice. I could have told you no, I could have told all of this no, and walked away.”

He stood a little straighter, more centered, “but I didn’t. Not because you were dead or because Overwatch was gone, but because it was right.”

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack turned his head away. “I have my reasons.” He left it that, even though he was fully aware of how unsatisfying of an answer it was. 

A drop of sweat gathered on his forehead, as he remembered his surroundings. Jack looked around; he was sure that someone would come soon enough, and he didn’t want to think of what would happen then. Would they have to fight to keep up appearances? He had no desire to do that at all.

Going soft again. Fucking damn it. 

He didn’t know how to handle moral quandaries right now. None of this made any sense. 

That was when he made a stupid decision, even though he was still a bit paranoid that the man could backstab him at any moment.

“We can’t talk out here. Too dangerous. If you wanna keep this going, follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned around, ready to head to the house he’d been spending time at. It wasn’t a location he particularly valued, and he’d been planning to leave tomorrow, so he told himself that it was okay, and he wasn’t just letting his emotions get to him again.

Lies.

[el-sacrificio]

And he did it. Markus took a deep breath, left his helmet where it was, and he followed. There wasn’t a moment of hesitation, nor was there anything that would have given any indication that he was having second thoughts. He should have had some second thoughts. 

One of the things he’d been warned a bout before he left was that he didn’t have to worry about the enemy finding him. He needed to worry about his allies. 

It was a strange thought, and one he didn’t fully understand for a long… long time. He didn’t like having those doubts right now, but… He’d come too long not to not trust Jack Morrison. How many people have trusted him and regretted it?

Markus knew better, but he did it anyway.

He didn’t ask where they were going, only understood that they were leaving, eyes taking in the scenery and making note of what cameras were where. He needed answers as badly as Jack did. So. 

He followed. 

[grizzledvigilante]

As the two walked, Jack didn’t turn around at all, not acknowledging Markus even being there. As if ignoring his decision would make it go away. Ana would say that was childish, but what did she know?

Luckily, they didn’t have to suffer through awkwardness for too long, because the house wasn’t far. Wordlessly, he unlocked the door and opened it.

It was small, and nowhere near any other houses in the area. Entirely made of wood, in declining condition; as if it would collapse from a particularly harsh gust of wind.  A more critical person would call it a ‘shack’ or a ‘dump’. In Jack’s mind, if it had a roof and a bed, it was already one of the better locations he’d settled down in.

He stepped onto the wooden floor, turning the light on; it flickered twice before finally responding fully, illuminating the room in harsh, artificial light. For a moment, he wondered if he’d feel better if he stayed in nicer places. Those were thoughts for when he had the option to do so, he supposed.

He motioned for Markus to come inside, as he sat on a chair near the center of the room. “You go first,” he said, abruptly. “Ask me anything you want to know.”

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

His eyes widen and he put his finger up to his lips, ending that thought with a hard look and raised brows. Discretion was more than the better part of valor, drawing too much attention could blow everything, and Markus was nothing if not committed to his task… even if nobody else remembered he was there at all.

Did he-

“… do you actually want to know the answer, or are you going to convince me that I’m wrong? If people can’t change, if people can’t be redeemed, then why don’t you shoot to kill?” A second passed, and he looked at the man, tried to catch his eyes for a second and get some sort of perspective, as though making some sort of contact would make it make sense.

“This isn’t your fault. None of it. Not the war, not the conflict, not any of this… We make choices. I didn’t say I regretted my choice. I could have told you no, I could have told all of this no, and walked away.”

He stood a little straighter, more centered, “but I didn’t. Not because you were dead or because Overwatch was gone, but because it was right.”

[grizzledvigilante]

Jack turned his head away. “I have my reasons.” He left it that, even though he was fully aware of how unsatisfying of an answer it was. 

A drop of sweat gathered on his forehead, as he remembered his surroundings. Jack looked around; he was sure that someone would come soon enough, and he didn’t want to think of what would happen then. Would they have to fight to keep up appearances? He had no desire to do that at all.

Going soft again. Fucking damn it. 

He didn’t know how to handle moral quandaries right now. None of this made any sense. 

That was when he made a stupid decision, even though he was still a bit paranoid that the man could backstab him at any moment.

“We can’t talk out here. Too dangerous. If you wanna keep this going, follow me.”

Without waiting for a response, he turned around, ready to head to the house he’d been spending time at. It wasn’t a location he particularly valued, and he’d been planning to leave tomorrow, so he told himself that it was okay, and he wasn’t just letting his emotions get to him again.

Lies.

[grizzledvigilante]

It’s become an age-old conflict, at this point. Jack wants some information, Talon doesn’t want him to have it. Some files from a former UN installation. It probably wouldn’t even get him anywhere, but it was worth a shot, and Jack Morrison was the last person to run away from any opportunity.

He fends off some Talon soldiers. As usual, he shoots to incapacitate, not to kill. Some habits never die. He snorts at the thought.

There are too many of them here, though. He needs to find another way around. Use stealth, which has never been his strong suit. At least he’d been getting better at it in the past five years.

He slips between two buildings and moves west. He’s fast enough that it doesn’t take him long to lose the soldiers that are after him. Slowly, he makes his way around the left side, using the terrain for cover. Some of them are still looking for him, but he doesn’t see any in the immediate vicinity.

He doesn’t let his guard down yet. Down the alley, he sees a single uniform. He gets closer to take the person out, until he gets close enough to see that they have their helmet off. He hates seeing them without it. It humanizes them a bit more than he’s comfortable with.

He’s still well out of the sight line of a normal pair of eyes; with his visor, he can see much farther and more clearly than the average person. The technology zeroes in on him, until he realizes: he recognizes this face.

His stomach turns. No, it couldn’t be. As stupid and reckless as it is, he can’t stop himself from running forward and confronting the person directly. 

“James? Markus James?” He says; it comes out as more of a gasp than anything else.

@el-sacrificio

[el-sacrificio]

I remember you.

“You’re alive.”

The rest of it didn’t register for a minute, and it was as though he couldn’t really believe it. He could hardly believe that Commander Morrison was alive, actually alive – the less world-weary version of himself seemed delighter, elated- the part of him that was really him and not the countless lies he’d been telling everyone around him for… god, how long?

How long had it been?

How many years has Markus been doing this?

But Overwatch was gone, he could have left, he didn’t need to stay-

“Overwatch wasn’t going to stay gone, you can’t dismantle an idea,” he told Jack, bewildered but seemingly relieved. Genuinely relieved – that smile on his face wasn’t unlike the kind he’d worn so many years before. “I knew it,” he laughs under his breath. So bright and alive, “I knew you would be back. Somebody needed to stay here, I have so much I have to tell you!”

It was at that moment that something… clicked. Something made that exuberance die down, and the reality of what was there settled away from the fantasy of what he had hoped it would be.

“The mission didn’t stop when Overwatch stopped existing, sir. I won’t leave until it’s over.”

[grizzledvigilante]

It was only at that moment that Jack realized - he was supposed to be dead. As always, he’d recklessly charged in based on his emotions, without thinking for even a minute. Never stopped making the same mistakes.

The optimism the guy still had…it reminded him too much of how he used to be. Of how he wouldn’t let himself be anymore. He looked away. “It’s gone. They killed our idea,” he said, refusing to get caught up in the optimism. 

“Yeah, I’m back,” he said, sighing. “But I’m just a washed up old man. Don’t get your hopes up about me.” 

He cringed at the title. “Don’t call me sir. I’m not the commander of anything anymore.” A frown formed on his face. “And about staying…you know what they do, right?” His continued shock leaked into his tone. Everything he’d seen from Talon…even from their individual soldiers. “You wouldn’t do those things, would you?” He said, stepping closer, trying not to sound like he was pleading.  He shouldn’t care so much. But seeing someone so optimistic do this…it was like watching his own failures play out right in front of him. His actions wouldn’t change people like this, right? Please, anything but that…

[el-sacrificio]

“I have lines.”

With the hard finality of a man who would not waver on some principle. He did not say what those lines were, but the way he was willing to lock eyes with a man who was his hero at one point and stand his ground, defend his honor, insist that there was still some good that the years under cover hadn’t tarnished?

“And I make sure that the people who are with me, do not cross them. And that there are consequences for those who do,” he drew in a deep breath before letting his shoulders fall and some of the tension release only to be reminded of what the other man had told him, and his stomach ached.

“But I’ve still done some horrible things to stop much… much worse,” the tone turned grave, distant. Aware. “It can be so much worse, Morrison. I didn’t give up my life to let that happen.”

[grizzledvigilante]

That didn’t make him feel much better. If what he was saying was true -- and he really could make them stop -- it would humanize them even further. He wouldn’t give into that. "And you trust them with that? You seriously think they give a shit about what you think is right?” He snapped, barely letting him finish his sentence. “And I know what it can be,” Jack said. “A new Crisis. Millions dead. My worst nightmare.” He didn’t need a reminder.

Come on. Breathe. This wasn’t his fault. As the implications of ‘give up my life’ came to him, he realized something: this was his responsibility. Anything that happened to Markus was his own fault. Any loss of morality, the dimming of an optimistic mind...his fault. All he could do was stare into the distance, not directly at Markus. “Sorry. It’s not your fault. It’s mine. All of this.”