@apmeka
Everyone knew Jesse McCree’s name. He was famous, but not because he was a hero. Not because he was a villain. He was called an abomination, a mix-breed, not even pure within. It’s told that a whore once conceived a true-blooded Werewolf’s seed, resulting in the man’s life. Still a Werewolf, able to shift, to use the powers - but, as said, not pure. And who would want a man who wasn’t pure from his very roots? A so-called Monster? Something that should not be here, not even be alive at this point?
Jesse McCree tried to make the most of his existence, though. He knew that there were people trying to get rid of him, and that every moment could be one where he had to fight. Yet people accepted his presence - some of them, at least - and even offered dirty jobs to him. It was one way to make good money, since, even though he was a mix-blooded abomination, he was good at being who he was. A hunter, killing quickly, getting rid of people quietly. He had his own rules, though, would never kill a child or innocent person. Because even though he wasn’t exactly human, neither a true Werewolf - he still was a decent person, and valued existence as other people did.
It wasn’t a problem for the gunslinger to live outside town, inside an old shack, deep within the black woods. It actually was peaceful - there weren’t many people or creatures who disturbed him, and if they did, he had his own methods of dealing with them. He’d made himself a good home, chopping wood for his furnace so it wouldn’t be too cold during the nights, and getting fresh water from a nearby river that could wash his body and keep him alive. Food was something he could either buy with the money he made, or he just hunted down deer and other smaller animals.
It still wasn’t easy to be excluded from society, to be an outlaw. But there was no way for Jesse to ever be included at some part of his life. Because of who he was, and what his mother had done. Giving birth to a child like him.
Not that he was angry with her - absolutely not. He remembered the woman fondly, the short time they’d been able to live together, before... welll... Before things had happened, and she had been killed.
“Hey, Mister.” The words pulled McCree out of his thoughts and he blinked, hazel hues drifting over to the dirty, drunken man who currently watched him closely as he leaned his fatty frame against the countertop. The barkeeper’s gaze was focussed on them both as well, and Jesse’s fingers held the glass steadily as he brought it up to his mouth and let the Whiskey burn over his tongue, down his throat. “I think you’re done here for now. People don’t want you around anymore.”
He could argue against it, right? Tell that fat pig to shut his mouth and let him drink his booze in peace. Yet Jesse knew it would end in a fight, and while it was easy for him to kill them all - or at least, be the winner of this fight - he knew it wasn’t worth it. It was late anyway, and he was tired thanks to this exhausting day.
So the Werewolf placed his glass back on the smooth surface, standing a moment later as his boots clicked against the floor. He flicked a few gold coins over to the barkeeper who caught them all in a swift movement, and with that he grabbed his hat to place it back on his head, making his way out of this shithole of a bar.
“Yes, just like that, dirty mixblood. Your whore of a mother would be proud.”
Fingers curled into a tight fist, but the hunter continued his way until the door closed behind him and he stood outside the building, inhaling deeply as he continued his way towards the city’s entrance. Jesse started to whistle, a low tune he remembered from his childhood, calming himself as he stepped through the empty streets.
One day, it would be okay. Somehow.
