The Villain Wrangler | Overwatch

Chapter 8

Gabe read the text message from Angelica and grinned. He could have fun with this. He sent a text as he headed out to Calaveras.

-What, no kisses for you?

-Really? Really? I stg I'm going to hit both of you.

-And what did the Strike Commander do to earn your wrath?

-Oh, no. I'm not getting involved in this. So: Cowboy. Can you find me one?

-He's trying to court you, too, isn't he?

-Cowboy, yes or no?

He snorted.

-Yes, in about an hour. And you should lighten up on Jack. You'd be good together.

-OK, now I'm really going to hit both of you. Thanks for the cowboy.

He considered her reply as he entered the bar. It was mostly empty, with only a few patrons. In the far corner, a massive brute in a gas mask was listening to a tall skinny man who was gesticulating wildly with a crude prosthetic over one of the bar's napkins. At the bar, looking very out of place, a man wearing a traditional yukata was, to all appearances, trying to drink his way through the top shelf of the bar's stock. Gabe raised an eyebrow at the bow leaning against the bar next to him. Catty-corner to him sat a man who looked as though he'd just walked off the set of a Sergio Leone film who was working on his second beer.

He waked up to sit next to the wayward cowboy. "Jesse." He let the nanites distort his voice and waved the bartender away.

"Do Ah know you?" he drawled in response.

"Ingrate. How many people here would recognize you and talk first?" He forced the distortion away for the first word, but permitted it to return.

"Reyes- You- Now hold on!" He stared at Reaper, stunned. "You- Well, now, we need to talk. Come on." He slapped some money on the bar top and strode out, spurs chiming a merry tune with each step.

Reaper sauntered out after him, feeling the eyes of the brute in the corner on his back. He ignored it.

Outside, he turned into a small alleyway to meet with Jesse. As soon as he stepped inside, he felt a heavy weight slam into him. He had already summoned his shotguns when he realized that Jesse was hugging him fiercely. He smiled, banishing the guns, and returned the embrace.

"God damn, jefe! I thought you were dead!" Jesse exclaimed when he pulled away.

"I am dead," he replied, dryly.

"Looking good for dead, though. What'cha need?"

"Shooting Star Dream Fulfillment Group needs a cowboy. Naturally, I thought of you."

Jesse stared blankly at Reaper for a few moments, then burst out laughing. After a minute, Gabe removed the mask to better glare at his protege. It didn't have the desired effect, as the cowboy was laughing so hard he collapsed against the wall. Annoyed, Gabe opened all of his eyes, six blood red irises showing across his cheek and forehead and glaring at the younger man.

That got his attention quickly, and the eyes closed. "What in tarnation...?"

"Shooting Star approached me for a meeting with a sick kid. I've been cooperating with the agent who approached me. She needs a cowboy. She's at safe house Sigma312BW, name's Angelica Coffey. Go talk to her."

Jesse studied him for a bit. "Ya like her, don'tcha? Ya hate doing stuff like that, usually."

Gabe just glared at him. "Aight, Ah'm goin', Ah'm goin'! But I expect some kind of explanation at some point." He stalked off toward the entrance of the alley, then stopped. Turning back, he glared at Gabe. "Ya know what, no, I deserve an explanation now. Ya tell me to quit Blackwatch and go hide. Ya go off and let everyone think you're dead, then ya turn up six years later like nothin' happened. What the fuck, jefe? And now you're playin' nice with some sick kid group, and hostin' one of theirs in a Blackwatch safe house? What's goin' on?"