Chapter Text
Missions were a common thing for the members of Overwatch. Nearly every week had a new mission that couldn't be ignored and left the Gibraltar base close to empty. Not to say it was rare that they got time to themselves, but Talon and other crooks made it very clear that they were going to take a day off when they were in jail or dead. Overwatch was all too happy to make that happen, discreetly or not.
Hanzo thinks that's why Genji asked him to join, because they needed more discreet on the team since most of the members were anything but. A loud, hulking German, a bubbly British girl, a talking ape of all things, and dare he forget the scruffy man shouting something about it being noon when it most certainly isn't. They had plenty of team members who did not fall under the discreet category. So he has to wonder about these things when he's asked to do a recon mission with one of the very loud members who couldn't be quiet if their life was literally hanging by a thread. And it's with the scruffy man no less.
Hanzo didn't know what to expect when they were given their missions in the conference room. He had been assigned to quite a few despite his joining only a few weeks ago, so he wondered what Winston would have him do next. He wasn't really prepared for the information he received, a recon mission overseas, but what was even more shocking was the partner going with him. Hanzo sadly hadn't been able to memorize everyone's names since joining, and this man was one of them. All he knew about him was that he used a gun and was what people called a cowboy, whatever that was. He thinks he remembers hearing something similar in his youth, but the memory is lost to Hanzo.
At least now he might be able to get to know the man a little better. The question is whether or not he'll want to.
“You'll be going to Indiana. Overwatch used to have a base a little north of the capital before most of it was destroyed. We're somehow getting alarms signaling trespassers, so we'll need you to check it out.” Hanzo reads the file as Winston talks, noting how it says that the building should be inoperable. Something must be happening if they're receiving signals all the way to Gibraltar.
“Any idea what might be the cause of these signals?” Hanzo looks at the man, hat higher on his head than it normally is as he asks Winston. The scientist shakes his head as he points at the briefing files.
“As that explains it, we shouldn't be receiving anything from that base. Something must have messed with the computer system or tripped an old backup alarm. The reason I'm asking the two of you to go is because Hanzo is equipped for stealth and you've been there before.” The man spares Hanzo a glance, one the archer finds a little more than friendly, and shrugs.
“A few times don't mean I know where ta go. That place has probably decayed and collapsed beyond recognition. But I don't mind a chance ta go outside. Stretch my legs.” Winston grunts and pushes McCree's legs off the table, which the gunslinger smiles at.
“Then stretch your legs there, not on the table.” McCree lets out a huff of laughter before turning to the assassin who still hasn't moved.
“Ready ta do this, partner?” Hanzo disregards the term just used and stands.
“Only if you do not do something stupid.” He's already walking to the door when he hears a faint chuckle and the clicking of boots.
“No promises.” What that even means, Hanzo has no idea. He doesn't know this man well enough to know the indication of those words. Whether he actually means it or if he's simply playing with Hanzo, and the archer almost wishes he knew. His earlier thought of maybe getting to know this man better is already seeming like a bad idea. He wants to squash it.
“Ever been ta Indiana yerself?” The constant need for this man to keep talking almost reminds the older man of Genji before… everything. He wants to hold conversations and talk at every waking second. This is going to be a very long mission.
“No.” It's short and stern, Hanzo trying to imply that talking isn't going to happen very often. McCree doesn't seem to catch the hint, though.
“Not much ta see. Might be able ta find something ta do there if we finish a little early.” Hanzo isn't keen on finding anything to do that doesn't involve the mission, and he wonders why this man doesn't get that. A very distinct difference between the two that he takes notice of.
The assassin is amazed at how truly different he is from the other members of Overwatch. While he may share a limited amount of traits with very few members, the differences are astounding. In no way is Hanzo brash, he likes to think. He plans, calculates, takes his time and makes sure he can win a fight. The only ones who seem to express this as well are Soldier 76, Ana, and his own brother who should be dead. The rest either rush into the fray or stay out of the action from what he can tell. If there are others who think like him, he has yet to see it, and this man who is now accompanying him has not once shown the ability to plan ahead and think carefully. But Hanzo is basing that on a few weeks with limited interaction. A flaw of his, quick to judge and base what he thinks on what he immediately sees. Genji had always scolded him for it and the elder Shimada found it laughable.
He still does, when his brother shows wisdom that was all but lost to him in his youth, and it's an even harder hit to the gut as Hanzo realizes his brother from back then is truly gone. It's laughable, but not at all humorous.
It's even more laughable when said brother is waiting for you, ready to see you off as if nothing happened. Hanzo feels his chest tighten with an unknown emotion. His face feels frozen with how much he's been frowning these last few hours.
“I wish you luck, brother.” Luck. Since when did he need luck to fight? Luck didn't give him the skills needed to fend off assassins for as long as he has. He acquired skills, a talent for being able to live on the run for all those years of isolation.
The same skills you killed him with. His mind supplies him with a bitter reminder, and he simply nods at Genji. His face feels even more twisted, but he doubts anything changed. He doesn't wish to say more, and heads to the plane that will take him and his teammate to their destination. McCree is still talking with Genji, neither seeming to mind Hanzo's lack of social interaction. Even more, the absence of the archer trying to rectify what he did to his brother years ago. He knows an apology won't change what he did, yet everyone seems to think it will help. There is no helping Hanzo, and he isn't sure how they all refuse to see that, especially Genji. A fool he had been, and a fool he still is.
-----
McCree wasn't sure how to feel for the mission. A trip back to a base he never thought he'd see again, with the very person who killed a good friend of his. It's all very surreal, and he doesn't like it in the least.
Not to say McCree holds a grudge against Hanzo. Genji had told him he holds no anger towards his brother anymore and he respects that decision, even if he doesn't fully understand it. To forgive the man who left you for dead, cut you down and left you to die in agony, McCree can't even fathom the idea. But he respects Genji's wishes and even goes so far as to treat Hanzo like he isn't the same man who forced his brother to live inside a metal body. He'd be angrier, furious even, if he never noticed the small hints of regret Hanzo shows whenever Genji is mentioned or in the same room. It's the only comfort McCree has in hoping the brothers will resolve the bad blood between them. Hell, he might even give a little push since Hanzo doesn't seem too eager to accept Genji's forgiveness, and this mission might give McCree a chance to make things right. Maybe even get a chance to find out a bit about the closed off archer.
The gunslinger was always a sucker for powerful men with pretty faces. He thinks so anyway, since he's sure he has the beginnings of affection towards Hanzo. Another thing to maybe dig deeper into while he has the chance. Genji did warn him though, the assassin was not one to mess with and push too far. It might be experience talking, but McCree is going to take it to heart.
He is kind. Just not… open-minded to most things. Patience is all you can have when dealing with my brother. The cowboy thinks he has enough. He didn't get this far by being the opposite. McCree just needs to show that he can indeed be very patient. Talking is the best way to convey such a thing, he thinks.
A conversation starter, however, is all but eluding the poor gunslinger. McCree, usually able to break the ice immediately and begin some form of communication, is having trouble finding a way to talk to Hanzo. It's rather surprising since they're together… alone… in a plane heading for Indiana across the Atlantic ocean… with a man who seems to have only one expression.
Maybe it's not so simple this time. But hell if McCree isn't going to try. He tries to seem casual, like he isn't having a major freakout on the inside about how he's going to start talking to Hanzo. He might be failing because his shoulders suddenly feel very stiff. The older man doesn't seem to have picked up on it yet or he doesn't care. McCree is nearly begging it's the former, which it might be since Hanzo hasn't even looked in his general direction the whole twenty minutes they've been in the air.
“Reckon we'll find anythin’ worth reportin’?” Good, awesome. Perfect thing to start with. It actually gets Hanzo to glance at McCree and it's a win in his book.
“Maybe. Alarms can go off for a few reasons. It will be more likely we will find out an animal chewed through the wiring.” He even got more than one word out of Hanzo. It must be McCree's lucky day. Two wins added to the book.
“Probably. What if we find actual baddies?” No glance, not even any acknowledgement he spoke, but at least the man is still talking. That's some form of progress.
“Then we take care of them and leave. It is not hard to understand.” McCree nearly feels the bit of venom added with those last words, and the slight animosity Hanzo is showing tells the cowboy all he needs to know.
Take the mission seriously. Do your job. He'll assume it's because of his blatant disregard for protocol on some of the missions he's had and just did his own thing. If he remembers correctly, Hanzo was present for one of them. Soldier 76 was, and he definitely wasn't happy, but when is he ever nowadays? McCree can still feel the verbal lashing he got afterwards.
But that isn't what he needs to focus on right now. Hell, what he plans to focus on also isn't what he should be giving his attention, but you don't become a wanted man by following the rules.
“Mind if I ask ya a few questions?” With the glare he's receiving, that might be a no. A very big no. The glare isn't very potent, he's managed to see one of Hanzo's more irate glares when an enemy damaged one of his prosthetics (because the maintenance is apparently tedious, and parts are hard to come by for someone running for his life), but it does make McCree rethink talking with the archer. He's surprised, to say the least, when Hanzo is actually willing to let him.
“Perhaps, depending on what you ask.” That's as good as the gunslinger can hope for. He only hopes he won't end up with an arrow through his skull. Or missing another limb.
“Do ya like workin' in Overwatch?” That's about the safest route he can take right now. The subject of Genji is probably still a bit touchy for Hanzo, but he thinks they'll get there. It'll take a damn long amount of time though.
“Do I look like I am enjoying myself?” If he had to answer honestly, hell no. Hanzo looked anything but happy since he joined. Hell, he probably looked that way before joining as well. He's read the older man's file, and practically nothing in there gave Hanzo a reason to smile. McCree feels his jaw tighten.
“Now don't answer a question with another question, partner. That defeats the whole purpose.” His light and cheery mood isn't coming all the way through, and he knows Hanzo has picked up on that. The other man seems tense, like a predator who has seen an opening to attack.
“And what is your purpose for asking these questions?” That's the jackpot question isn't it? It always is.
“Just tryin’ ta get ta know ya better, is all. We are workin’ together.” Hanzo huffs at McCree like he was just insulted and turns away again. Shouldn't it be the cowboy feeling that way right now?
“There is nothing to know about me. Stop trying.” McCree sighs at the hostility being thrown at him and does as Hanzo wishes. For now. He isn't going to give up so easily, but the gunslinger can listen when he wants to. Also when he's in danger of being brutally maimed or killed in a massive metal machine above the clouds. The last thing McCree wants is his body becoming fish food, so he'll keep his mouth shut.
The plane ride now feels considerably longer and much more uncomfortable.
-----
They land, and McCree feels like his entire body has morphed into gelatin. He never was a plane kind of guy, and the aftereffects are even less enjoyable. He's surprised he can even stand normally, yet Hanzo seems just fine. Maybe it's not surprising, metal is definitely an upgrade from flesh in this situation. His bones won't feel like they'll give out at any moment, and his muscles won't shake from lack of use. McCree is almost contemplating shaking his legs like a cat would when its feet get wet. The imagination of him doing so is enough to quickly stomp the idea. McCree, shaking his legs like a critter is crawling on them. He'd never live it down, witnesses or not. Plus, there's Hanzo, so it's an immediate no.
“So you know where to go, I assume.” The archer is looking around like he's waiting for some sort of ambush, and McCree wonders if the man has ever gone a day in his life where he wasn't paranoid. His mind supplies the quick word of childhood, and even then he still wonders.
“Pretty much. I can tell ya we just need ta walk north and keep going ‘til we see ruins.” Hanzo hums and does just that, not waiting for McCree to follow. The cowboy shakes his head and starts walking through the many trees as the sun hits the back of his serape. He's thankful for his hat. They walk in silence, save for the few bugs and birds chirping at the intruders. A few insects fly in front of McCree, and he waves them away, splitting his focus on both Hanzo and the path they're taking. The last thing he wants is to become lost with an angry but deadly assassin. Not that he thinks Hanzo would actually kill him, but maiming doesn't seem beneath the man.
Try not to walk on eggshells. The only advice he can truly follow.
“Ya seem ta be well acquainted with trees.” It's not a joke as Hanzo does seem to be used to branches and leaves in his face. He just can't tell if the older man had taken it as such since he doesn't turn around. He does speak though.
“You learn to deal with things while trying to survive. I am sure you are no different.” That he definitely isn't. Overwatch had gotten the warning about assassins out for Hanzo's head, probably employed by his own family, so McCree gets where he's coming from. The Deadlock gang sure as hell wasn't going to let him off scot-free. Neither was the news or law enforcement. McCree totally understands.
“Yer not wrong there. I just didn't do most of my runnin’ in forests.” He didn't actually run either, just went about his day and killed some people if he had to.
“How many forests did ya use ta survive?” Probably more than enough.
“I do not know the exact number. I have been in many, using the trees for cover either from enemies or rain. Sometimes as a place to rest.” McCree notes Hanzo did not say sleep. A big difference for those on the run for their lives. Rest you can get almost any time, sleep is practically elusive. It becomes dangerous and soon starts looking more like a grim reaper than sweet relief. Being able to wake up at the drop of a hat is the only solution and McCree had mastered it. Hanzo has probably done the same.
“So yer acquainted with trees. Figured as much.” He hears the archer sigh, even sees the slight dip of his shoulders as he exhales, and he once again feels like he shouldn't talk. He doesn't know how Hanzo manages to make him think he needs to keep quiet.
“If you are trying to make a joke, it is far from funny.” He's still not looking back at the cowboy.
“Not makin’ a joke, I swear. Just tryin’ ta talk is all.” Hanzo abruptly stops and spins on a metal heel to face McCree who is almost wishing he would turn again. The glare isn't sitting well with him.
“Talking will get you killed. Talking is what will distract you when a gun is aimed at your head. Will keep you from hearing the approaching steps of an enemy. Will be the reason you end up dead in the middle of nowhere with no medical help.” Hanzo must not expect McCree to say anything in his defense since he turns and continues his way down the path. The gunslinger is stunned, to say the least. He didn't expect the outburst, definitely didn't expect the morbid words Hanzo had to say. For once in his life, McCree wants his voice to magically stop working. But he knows he'd be far too stubborn for that to even work.
He just can't seem to win.
-----
The walk had taken a while, close to forty minutes if Hanzo was keeping track. He was. The two had finally arrived at their destination, pretty far from any civilization, so there was barely any chance of someone stumbling upon the old base. Hanzo thinks that if it really was an intruder, they had to have been purposefully looking for the decrepit building. The amount of wear and tear made it nearly impossible to see, vines and other vegetation acting as a makeshift camouflage. There were parts missing, most likely collapsed, so it didn't stand as tall as it probably once did. This all left only two options for Hanzo.
Animal or potential enemy. He readies his bow just in case and nocks a sonic arrow into the slot. A click to his left signals McCree loading his gun, and he's actually surprised that the man isn't dismissing Hanzo's actions as simple paranoia. Must be smarter than he looks, and Hanzo feels a little better.
They walk inside, going as carefully as they can, and the assassin has to stop himself from glaring at the spurs jingling on those damned boots. This was supposed to be the moment they use stealth, yet he's sure anyone could hear them coming quite easily. Maybe that professionalism he saw earlier was the extent of McCree's skills. He's ready in case they have to fight, but he is in no way acting like there are intruders to deal with. The cowboy looks relaxed, in a walk down the beach sort of way. Where he doesn't expect anyone to potentially point a gun at him and let him die amongst sand and sea water. Hanzo feels livid and his grip on the bow tightens.
A door is just a few steps away from them, and the older man is the first to approach. It doesn't appear to have been touched recently, no signs of something forcing it open since the lock isn't powered. The few vines that have crept inside still hold it shut, and both figure there would be no point opening the door. The pair continue further down until another door comes into view, this one wide open and seemingly forced to move. Hanzo silently moves closer and positions himself just enough to get a clear shot into the room. The arrow flies and lands, pulsing out a blue light that indicates no people inside. McCree takes that as a sign to go in, and Hanzo follows close behind with a new arrow ready to fire. The room seems to be fairly large, a few areas littered with debris from the walls and ceiling. Weeds have sprung up through the few cracks, but the computers and consoles seem to be untouched. McCree whistles like he's surprised they didn't find anything, but he doesn't put his gun away.
“Place looks even worse than when it was actually bein’ used. Not to say they didn't try ta keep it clean, but fighters ain't maids.” He walks over to the console and presses a button. When nothing happens, he tries another. More silence until the third button and the screen suddenly lights up. McCree looks at the monitor and reads what he sees, eyes widening just a bit.
“Winston definitely ain't gonna be pleased.” Hanzo looks away from the door and holes in the ceiling to where McCree is standing.
“What do you mean?” The gunslinger looks at him, pointing at the files on the screen monitor.
“Looks like that alarm was tripped by a person. That or animals suddenly know how ta hack files. This is givin’ the location of every Overwatch base and agent. Alive agents.” That's a red flag if Hanzo ever heard one. To know that whoever entered the base was pulling up files on old Overwatch members, it couldn't have been just for the hell of it. There was a purpose to hacking into those files, but he sadly doesn't know what it is.
“We need to tell Winston.” McCree nods and presses the button on his communicator which goes through in seconds.
“Hey. Ya ain't gonna like what I tell ya. Looks like that alarm was because someone pulled up old files. Yea, on the previous guys, those still alive. Roger that.” McCree gets to work on figuring out the console as he fills Hanzo in on the conversation he just had.
“Gonna need ta wipe the files. Winston said ta see if we can't find any clues on who looked them up and get back immediately.” The assassin nods, not commenting on the commanding air McCree suddenly has about him. It's a nice change in Hanzo's opinion, realizing his teammate isn't a complete fool. There's no joking tone or stupid remarks as he actually tries to carry out the mission and do as he's told. It's almost so relieving that Hanzo nearly misses the glint of a barrel. McCree hasn't finished destroying the files, but the archer doesn't care as he pulls the man away, a bullet embedding itself into one of the panels where McCree was just standing. The gunslinger loses his balance, but Hanzo is already shooting an arrow at the direction it came from. The loud clank it makes tells him he missed whatever shot at them and he clicks his tongue in annoyance. Another arrow nocked and he has it aimed when a voice finally speaks.
“You're getting slow, boy. What good is someone who needs another to save his ass?” The voice is deep, filtered through some sort of distorter if Hanzo had to guess. He doesn't recognize it, but the low growl tells him McCree definitely does. Said man gets up from where Hanzo pulled him and points his gun at the door.
“Ya ain't got no room ta talk, old man. At least I didn't die like an idiot. Same can't be said for yerself.” He's wearing a mocking grin that earns an annoyed growl, and a figure is then standing in the doorway, a gun aimed at McCree while one hand seems to be gripping something at his side. Hanzo doesn't recognize this man at all, but he keeps his eyes trained on the clenched hand.
“You're not dead yet. But I can remedy that.” Something is then thrown at them, Hanzo moving to aim at the now airborne device. His brows knit together as he realizes it isn't a grenade, but something he's never seen before. The confusion is enough for him to stall and when the device lands, a strong pulse is released and fries their communicators and the monitor behind them. An EMP generator then. Both McCree and Hanzo rip out the comms from their ears and toss them aside as sparks fly and crackle. Now they have no way to inform Winston or the others of what's happening. Hanzo frowns even more and quickly aims before the arrow goes flying at the man-
Only to pass through him and hit the wall of the hallway. The archer's eyes widen as he tries a second time but gets the same result. All he receives in return is a laugh and another gun to accompany the first one.
“That won't work.” McCree, whose hand had been slowly moving to his side, grabs a flashbang and throws it towards the door. He moves to shield Hanzo as it breaks and light floods the room. They hear a pained grunt and when the light fades, the man is gone and McCree is running out of the building, dragging Hanzo by his wrist. The assassin is keeping his senses sharp as best he can, listening and watching for any sign of the enemy, even as they exit the base and are running through the woods. After a good distance, both stop to make sure they're in the clear, but they keep their guard up just in case. McCree breathes a heavy sigh and leans against a tree, body tense with exhaustion and leftover adrenaline. It's a weird mix, but he's felt it before. Hanzo looks the same if the slight shaking of his hands are anything to go by.
“You knew who that was?” The older man is giving him a questioning look and McCree just nods.
“Ya read the file ‘bout Blackwatch, right?” Hanzo remembers doing so, being allowed to read about the extra faction created by Overwatch meant to give convicts a chance to be better. He didn't read the whole thing, but he got the gist of it. It was something that didn't end the way they wanted and Overwatch disbanded because of the chaos created.
“Well, that used ta be the boss. Gabriel Reyes, now workin’ for Talon under the name Reaper. Ya won't believe me, but he used ta be an item with Jack… Soldier 76. Forgot ya don't know his actual name.” That Hanzo didn't because he never bothered with it. Didn't read everything on the files he was given as a means of learning about his new comrades a little better. The archer didn't think he would need to as he wasn't sure if he was even going to stay. Maybe if he did, Hanzo would have been better prepared. It certainly was an interesting piece of information. Not really required, but still interesting. Right now though, they need to get back to Gibraltar and inform the rest of Overwatch about their findings. But when Hanzo goes to walk back to the place they were dropped off, McCree stops him with a hand on his shoulder.
“That wouldn't be wise, partner. Reaper knows we're here which means he could be waitin’ for us. I wouldn't be surprised if he's already tampered with our ride back.” Hanzo didn't like what he was hearing.
“How are you so sure he has done anything?” Silence at first, and the assassin just gets more irritated at the lack of a fast reply.
“I used ta work for the guy. If he still thinks like he did then, he's already sabotaged or destroyed the carrier. He ain't gonna give us a chance ta leave after what we found out.” Hanzo couldn't believe what he was hearing.
“So you mean we are stuck out here, with no way to contact everyone else and no means of getting back?” McCree shrugs and pulls out a cigar from his pocket, not bothering to go for his lighter as he chews on the end. He doesn't need the smoke to calm his nerves right now, just a bit of a distraction.
“Oh, we got a way of gettin’ back. Just not usin’ the same way we got here.” Hanzo can only give him a more confused look and McCree is bracing himself for when that confusion turns into rage.
This is going to be a long trip back.
-----
A train. McCree wanted Hanzo to sneak onto a train and ride to New Jersey where they could probably hitch a ride on a boat back to base. A plane would be the worst case scenario since neither had much money on their person for tickets, and just by glancing at them, security wouldn't think twice about handcuffs and interrogations. That meant sneaking into the cargo hold, which they would have to do either way. A boat would be easier and less risky. Less chance of people recognizing McCree from the news.
That had been what he told Hanzo anyway. Along with the lovely piece of information that the few nearby bases won't be of any help, too old and worn to contact the other base. But he's not inclined to argue, seeing as how the man seems used to this kind of stuff and is Hanzo's only way back to the base. He might be lost otherwise, having no idea where he is. Indiana was not one of Hanzo's stops during his years of running, so he's definitely not familiar with the area. He's not familiar with most of the United States to be honest. The Shimada family, despite wanting him to take over, didn't really give Hanzo free reign or inform him of what to expect in places outside of Hanamura. All he had to know was who was an enemy, a potential friend (another word for scapegoat, pawn, easily manipulated), and how to turn the tables in his favor. Learning to fight was simply natural and everything he learned, he was going to need once he took over.
Hanzo instead used his skills to kill one of the few people who mattered to him, and survive an onslaught of assassins looking to take his head and claim the money. Now, practically everyone is both an enemy and potential “friend”. McCree is no different, despite how he acts like nothing bothers him. Hanzo has learned to read others, especially those with the ability to be a threat. That was nearly everyone at Overwatch. Friendly faces who could turn on him at any moment, attack Hanzo when he least expected it if they wanted to, and he would probably have to take another life in defense of his own. Call it paranoia, Genji certainly has, but Hanzo has lived alone for too long to simply trust someone just because they're on good terms with his brother and offer sanctuary.
Look what happened with Blackwatch and apparently, the killer called Widowmaker. He knows better.
“How far?” They had been walking for quite awhile, making their way through even thicker woods and away from the carrier that they took a chance to check up on. McCree had been right as they watched Talon agents trash their transportation and make it inoperable. The controls had been smashed, wings broken and littered with bullet holes, engine smoking and threatening to blow up. They left the moment the smoke became thicker and darker, not waiting for the eruption that was going to eventually happen. That was about an hour ago, so Hanzo thinks they're either too far to hear it or the explosion hasn't happened yet. Either way, they can't use it anymore.
Now they're hiking to the nearest train station and even then, it's a good four more hours away on foot. Hanzo is almost regretting the thought against having cellphones because of tracking capabilities, and the communicators were designed to combat hacking, but apparently not pulses that could fry the wiring.
“Reckon it'll be a good while 'fore we even see a hint of civilization. Worst comes ta worst, we sleep outside.” It was something of a plan, at least, if Hanzo could call it such. Neither had really brought supplies as they weren't planning on being surprised by Reaper and his Talon forces, so the most they had was a couple hundred and some odd dollars in cash. Soldier was actually the one to suggest taking a bit of money with them as a precaution, to which McCree made the joke of old men having experience. A quick punch to the gut as a response, and they were soon heading out.
Hanzo feels he should be lucky it's early summer, the remnants of spring making a cool breeze run over his skin every now and then. Coupled with the shade from the trees, the weather is just right for Hanzo. But he knows what that could potentially mean, what with the possibility of them sleeping outside for a night hanging over his head. Colder nights and with plenty of hungry insects. And he's not alone like he normally would be.
As a precaution, maybe more leaning towards his paranoia (as everyone else calls it), Hanzo has his bow in hand, arrow ready to soar into the nearest enemy. Maybe even something they can eat if they don't make it to a town before nightfall. He's not going to walk unarmed, guard lowered, and looking like an easy target. With Talon somewhere behind them, the last thing he needs is to relax and be killed because of it. Hanzo wonders how McCree can walk like nothing is going to harm him, gun sitting in its holster and a cigar smoking between his lips, the same one he's been chewing on a little over an hour ago. Hanzo thinks it's a nervous habit, and maybe the cowboy isn't actually relaxed, but trying to seem as such despite a storm of raging nerves. Then again, the man always seems to have a cigar stuck between his teeth. He's either always on edge or just smoking because he simply can.
Hanzo doesn't think he has enough evidence to choose between the two options, so he settles for believing he does it as a means of relief. A distraction from what's happening around him since it would be very appropriate for their current situation. Hanzo himself isn't a smoker, so he doesn't understand the appeal, but he knows that while he has a gourd dangling on his side, McCree has a flask somewhere on his person that probably isn't filled with something as simple as water. Hanzo's most definitely isn't, and he almost feels like taking a long drink if only to calm his nerves a little like McCree is doing. He'll still be able to fight well enough and they have been walking for some time, but alcohol isn't what he needs right now. It's much too early in his opinion, and the last thing it'll do is give him an energy boost.
Movement to his left, and his head jerks to see a bird flying, weaving through trees and landing on a branch. It's a rather interesting color for a forest, a shade of blue on its feathers that clash with the greens and browns. It's staring at the men with what looks to be confusion, but Hanzo was never one to try and figure out what a bird was thinking. People were his main concern, still are, so what use is being able to communicate with birds? Especially one so small that wouldn't even be any sort of threat or help.
Hanzo sighs and thinks he's going mad if his thoughts are that complex about a simple bird.