Bad Name (McCree X Reader)

Chapter 1: Escape

"Just a little closer."

You mumble to yourself, peering patiently through your scope. Your long, silver hair drapes over your back like a cape. Today's target is from a regular client. The target is a well-respected Omnic leader from another country. You never cared about the whole "Humans against Omnics" thing. You kill both. Depending on the price on their head. Your trigger finger is getting itchy, and you're anxious to shoot. But you wait. The target walks into sight. You hold your breath...
BOOM.
Down goes your target. Mission complete. You load another single bullet into your gun. You always engrave "Hush..." into your bullets as a calling card. They call you the Whisper Killer. You always liked the title. It fits. When the panic sets into the crowd, you make your escape back to your base. Your home is a lovely little apartment sized room in a subway tunnel. You made it your own, and you made it like a home should be. Everything is centered around your favorite colors, black and {F/C}. You wait until everyone was evacuated to their homes and the station was silent. You slip out the door and make your way to a nearby pay phone in the station. Popping a few cents into the machine, you dial the number of your client to inform him that you completed your task. He picks up. "Shhhhhh." You whisper into the microphone to let him know that it's you.
"Whisper. Is that you?" He mutters.
"Yes, it's me."
"Is the job done?"
"He's dead. I'd like my payment."
"Got it. I'll leave it in the usual place."
"All €5,000,000?"
"Yes."
"That's my favorite client. I'd like it tomorrow. See you then, Blue," you say as you hang up the phone. Silently, you slip back into your home and lay down in your bed. You take off your pumps and put your rifle, Clover, on safety before laying down with her in your arms. You shut your eyes and fall asleep.
BANG BANG BANG.
You jolt upright and load Clover, pointing it at the steel door of your apartment. A large package is  sitting on the floor in front of your door. Looking at your alarm clock, you see that it's two in the afternoon. Excited for your payment, you leap out of bed and pick up the fat package. The note on the top of it says "Thanks," making you smile.
"Nice guy," you say to yourself. Counting your money, you're satisfied to see that all €5,000,000 are in there, with an added bonus of €500,000. Your client was always nice and he liked to give you a bonus. But... your payment isn't in Euros. It's in US dollars.
"Odd," you mutter to yourself. You turn the note over to look at the other side. An urgent message is scrawled on the paper.
"Whisper, the government has been tracking you down. They're getting close. They've narrowed your location down to the train station. For your safety, you need to leave Ireland. A friend of mine is a pilot that can fly you to America undetected. This is why I gave you 5,500,000 US dollars. Pack everything you can in two suitcases. Pack lightly. On the plane, I'll provide you with scissors, hair dye, colored contacts, and makeup so you can disguise yourself. I'll also give you a fake name, ID, and passport, along with a cellphone. I've already bought an apartment for you to live in. Don't worry. I'll still give you assassination requests in America. My friend will pick you up at midnight tonight. Meet him at the end of your tunnel. Good luck.
-Blue."
You sigh as you look at your apartment. You find two of your suitcases and start to pack everything you need. Extra bullets, a change of clothes, toiletries, all your money, your lucky quartz switchblade, and all your other essentials. You peel off your skintight black dress and tights and put on an oversized sweater, baggy jeans, and UGGs. You quickly stuff your waterfall-like hair into a maroon red beanie and hang a hoodie on your door handle. Laying back in your bed, you set your alarm clock for 11:30 and close your eyes for a nap before you leave.
Meep! Meep! Meep!
Your alarm clock screams at you. You sit up and grab your suitcases. Before you leave, you decide to burn the letter Blue wrote you to cover your tracks. You sigh out of sadness and look around at your apartment. "Bye. Hopefully, I'll be back soon," you say to yourself. You walk out the door and turn off the light. You take the only key to the steel door and lock it for good. You make your way to the end of the tunnel to find your ride.
The pilot is a tall, lanky man in his mid fifties. You let out a "Shhhh" to tell him you're who he's looking for. The man looks at you. "You're today's cargo? What's a pretty girl like you doing fleeing the country?"
You scowl at him. "Don't flirt with me, old man. This is solely for business. Just take me to the damn plane." The man rolls his eyes and takes you to a junky-looking cargo plane. He tries to help you into the plane, but you just hop up through the door and take your seat. The pilot gets in, closes the door, and sits in the cockpit. You look at the briefcase next to you and open it. It has just what Blue said. You pick up your ID and look at the name. "{Y/N} {L/N}? That's an okay name," you say to yourself. You glance at the picture. The girl in it looks almost exactly like you, but with different hair and eyes. You study the photo and do your makeup accordingly. You gently place the {E/C} colored contacts in your eyes. Picking up the scissors, you stop when you realize what you're about to do. You groan out of disappointment. You take the hair you've spent your whole life growing out of your beanie, grab onto it, and start to cut away at it. You stop until it's exactly like in the picture. You throw your excess hair away in a nearby garbage bag. Cutting your hair first will make it easier to dye. You rummage around in the briefcase and find the hair dye. It's the fancy, high-tech, expensive kind that you just drip into your hair and it dyes your hair with no mess. You drop a little dye in your hair and it fades from a silvery grey to {H/C}. You always liked your hair that silver color. Even though it was dyed to begin with, it felt like it was natural. You look in the reflective screen of the cellphone in the briefcase. You can barely recognize yourself. Good. A yawn escapes your mouth, causing you to lean back and close your eyes. But you make sure to sleep lightly for the rest of your flight. Don't want the pilot to get any wild ideas.