The Hunter | Overwatch

Chapter 77: The Unseen Enemy

Yesterday, Route 66, United States of America, 1:04 P.M.

The neon sign flickered, casting a dim red glow over the cracked pavement outside. The bar’s name, "Zip It and Drink It," buzzed faintly, barely holding onto its last breaths of electricity. It wasn’t a place that welcomed tourists—hell, it barely welcomed regulars—but for a crew like Cassidy, Sojourn, Pharah, and Echo, it was exactly the kind of dive they needed before the fight.

Inside, the air was thick with cigarette smoke and the bitter scent of cheap whiskey. The jukebox in the corner sputtered out a half-hearted country tune, its worn-out speakers making it sound more like a funeral dirge than a song meant for drinking. A few rough-looking locals occupied the barstools—old truckers with nicotine-stained fingers, ex-gang members nursing regrets at the bottom of their glasses, and the occasional wanderer who looked like they hadn’t had a real home in years.

None of them paid much attention to the four newcomers. Overwatch had been off the grid for years, and out here, people didn’t ask too many questions.

Behind the counter stood Zip Carter, the bar’s owner—a grizzled man in his sixties with a beard like steel wool and a face that looked like it had lost too many fights. He wiped down a glass with the kind of tired efficiency that said he’d been doing this for far too long. His one good eye scrutinized the four of them as they settled into a booth near the back.

Cassidy tipped his hat. “Been a while, Zip.”

Zip grunted. “Thought you were dead, McCree.”

Cassidy smirked, leaning back in the booth. “Ain’t the first time someone’s thought that.”

Zip didn’t smile. He just set a bottle of whiskey and a few glasses on the table before turning away.

Sojourn gave Cassidy a side glance but said nothing, instead focusing on the holo-map displayed on her wrist. The flickering blue light reflected in her cybernetic eyes as she scanned Null Sector’s recent activity in the region. Their intelligence reports had confirmed something was happening out here, but so far, there had been no signs of active movement. Until then, they had time to kill.

"Relax, Captain," Pharah said, taking a sip of the beer Zip had begrudgingly served them. It was warm and slightly stale, but it did the job. "Even soldiers need a break."

Sojourn exhaled sharply, setting the holo-map down. “Not used to waiting.”

Echo, ever the curious observer, scanned the bar with wide, fascinated eyes. "This establishment is... unique. It carries a strong human essence of nostalgia and melancholy."

Cassidy chuckled. “That’s a fancy way of sayin’ it’s a dump.”

Zip grumbled, “I got a mop, cowboy. You wanna use it, or you wanna drink?”

Cassidy raised his hands in mock surrender. "No offense, Zip. Beer’s still good."

That seemed to settle things.

Memories Over Drinks

For a few minutes, the four of them sat in relative silence, the only sounds being the occasional clink of glasses and the hum of the old neon lights above them. Outside, the wind howled against the building, stirring up dust that made the air seem even heavier.

Sojourn finally set her holo-map aside and leaned back against the worn-out booth seat. "If we’re going to wait, we might as well make the time useful. We don’t exactly know much about each other outside of mission reports and battlefield tactics."

Cassidy took another sip of his whiskey. “Ain’t much to tell.”

Pharah arched an eyebrow. “Really? Because I recall Reinhardt telling stories about you running with a gang before Overwatch picked you up. Something about Deadlock and a whole lot of bad decisions.”