Fingers flicked ashes into the wind, over the railing. An uncharacteristic somber look possessed the young man, creased his mouth tight into a thin line that aged his face beyond the usual carefree look of his boyhood. Jesse McCree leaned there, and waited.
He’d been pissed. He wasn’t now. But initially, he was downright ornery about the whole thing.
It was an “important operation.” When McCree had asked why exactly he hadn’t been invited along, that had been the only explanation offered to him–and by no means did it sit right. It sat pretty fuckin’ sideways and a few degrees to left if you asked the cowboy. He figured if it were truly an imperative operation, he would have been asked along. After all, he had a better eye than half the guys that had made the cut. But no, he had been given the shaft, and not for the first time either…
Maybe he wasn’t important enough.
The thought stewed in his mind as he put bullets through targets at the range, as he consumed his midday meal, as he had scrubbed the dirt and grime and varied residue from the soles of his well-worn boots (he had been offered a regulation pair upon his enrollment in Blackwatch, but had clearly plainly refused to wear them. They still sat, unused, at the foot of his bed). Eventually, Jesse found himself sprawled out on the floor in his room, with his hat covering his face, muffling quiet curses to no one in particular.
But now the raid team was coming back in, and he waited. He leaned over the rails for a familiar face–for one, in particular–as he tapped that slow snowfall of ash down onto the ground far below.
Standing by for the bay doors to open, Reyes impatiently waits for his chance to exit, putting to his back the hauntingly vacant fuselage and its plethora of empty seats. Desperately wanting out of this hell called his life in order to retreat to his quarters for the rest of the evening. Doing what he could to forget what happened–
It was practically unheard of, especially seeing as the assigned mission fell well within the usual parameters- a nefarious no-goer that needed to be put on the fast track to premature oblivion for the greater good of mankind. It was as cut and dry as missions came and yet it had been besieged with disaster almost from the get-go.
For they’d been expected, no more than sitting ducks for the awaiting snipers that picked off two of their number as they HALO jumped into enemy territory.
Someone had tipped off the enemy.
In the ensuing bloodbath that followed, Reyes had retained enough sense to avail of the only realistic option left to him when faced with the systemic execution of his entire squad; call for an emergency evac. Ashamed as he was to simply turn tail and run, he’d decided that this clusterfuck was not worth dying over and vowed to pull his men out of this chaos whilst he still had enough warm bodies to aid the injured or, indeed carry the fallen (no man left behind after all).
And thus, here he was, a disgraced commander caught off-guard by something far more pressing.
How did they know they were coming.
Grimacing, Gabe descends the ramp at a snail’s pace, his gait severely hampered following a heated brush with a skilled sharp shooter. Whilst his assailant has since become past tense, enough damage had been done to make his death worthwhile: Reyes would not be fit to run laps any time soon, with even the simple process of walking enough of a challenge as-is.
Once he eventually reaches the tarmac, he looks up in time to wave on a pair of paramedics determined to come to Blackwatch’s aid. Reyes did not expect to hear any good news and thus, dismayed, he sets off on his way, leaving the medics to busy themselves in coming to a conclusion he already made; his team was as good as dead.
Head hung low, he powers through his own nagging complaints to walk at a reasonable pace, yelling a storm when the pain proves over baring. He was fully aware that he would face harsh repercussions on account of this venture’s terrible outcome, and until he’s forced to account for his actions, the commander wanted little more than to retreat to his quarters, allowing his mind to sift through the chain of events that led to such disaster.
And to question what he should’ve done differently.
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