The Hunter Becomes The Hunted

Chapter 7 (Set in Jesse's P.O.V.)

Jesse coughed, dust puffing from his mouth, imitating his cigar smoke perfectly. His eyes throbbed as he looked around, his gloved hand now holding a fistful of soiled, dirty and bloody fabric tightly to his throbbing chest. His ragged breathing and wheezing rang loudly in his ears, his vision swaying left and right. It hurt when he moved his head.

Jesse groaned and let go of his clothing, looking down at his hand to see blood coating his tattered leather glove. With a flick of his hand, blood splattered onto the wall next to him and onto the floor. Jesse sneered at the beast lying dead before him, the werewolf's body motionless and once tanned fur now nearly a dark red.

The beast had got him good, slamming him into the walls, throwing him around like a toy. Jesse was sure he had broken bones and open wounds that needed to be tended to quickly by Ana or Hanzo. Jesse could hear his blood slowly pattering onto the cobblestone floor, little pat pat pats pounding away in his ears and making his head throb more.

Jesse slowly leaned down and snatched up the revolver he dropped when the werewolf collapsed onto him, the nose still smoking slightly. Pocketing his revolver in his holster barely hanging onto his form by a waning piece of nearly destroyed leather, Jesse slowly started to limp down the corridor.

The flames flickering away on top of candles burned his eyes, he could barely make his way through the winding corridors until he had to lean up against the cobblestone wall. With a soft groan, Jesse looked down at his stomach to see blood staining his once white shirt. Slowly peeling the soaked fabric back, Jesse grit his teeth as the cotton bit and scratched at his open wound, feeling as though he was pouring salt into his own injuries. With a soft wheeze, Jesse looked at the open gash on his stomach, from when the werewolf threw him down the corridor and into a door, the sharp handle puncturing his abdomen. It was still throbbing, but the blood was starting to slow down.

Jesse could hear snarling from other corridors followed by the cries of dying minions and the shouts of his comrades. Jesse mindlessly pulled out his revolver and opened up the cylinder to reveal no more bullets. Cursing softly to himself, Jesse dug into his pockets to find he only had one more silver bullet left. He cautiously slipped the bullet into the cylinder and close it, cocking back the hammer. Slowly, Jesse continued forward, limping with every step as his eyes scanned the hallways.

Turning corner after corner, Jesse wound up in front of Ana and Reinhardt, Reinhardt's hammer slowly rising from the werewolf's shattered head.

Ana gasped when she saw Jesse holding his stomach before rushing for him, her shaking old hands catching him and leaning him up against the wall, helping him slide down until he was now sitting. Jesse winced when Ana's fingers brushed up against his wounds.

"What happened to you, Jesse McCree?" Ana murmured as she rifled through her bag. "Were you-?"

"I wasn't bit," Jesse cut her off. "The damned thing threw me around like a child havin' a fit." Jesse coughed, blood flying from his chapped pale lips. "'m just scratched up, is all."

Reinhardt shifted, looking behind him and raising his hammer.

"Do you know where the others are?" he questioned.

Jesse shook his head as Ana produced a small closed vial with thick yellow liquid inside.

"This will hurt," Ana warned as she uncorked the vial.

"What is it-?"

Before Jesse could finish, Ana tilted the vial and poured the thick liquid right into his open wound. Jesse roared with pain, his body twitching and his hands going to scratch at Ana's hands that were rubbing the liquid right into his open wound only to have Ana smack them away. The burning scattered across his body, it became hard for him to breathe, his neck twitched and his eyes watered. He hissed behind gritted teeth, the back of his head smacking against the bricks, his boots scrabbling and scraping against the floor.