almightythirst | Open Post

That stops Jesse short, and it keeps him quiet for the remaining duration of their ride. He thinks back, not for the first time, on the wolves he’d had to leave behind after that last botched mission. And the one in the church. And then the revelations in the reports Hanzo had gotten out to them… it’s as bad as she’s saying and more. He’d just never thought he’d hear anyone from the inside say it.

When they exit the elevator, he makes the decision to take his aim off of her. He hopes it’s not a mistake. Especially with that cybernetic hand of hers. He’s more wary of the tech than he is of her vampiric abilities.

“Knowin’ our end goal here would really help me help you.”

"It is not a thing simply or easily explained."

Taking the lead, she steps out into the hall. This one is silent. No movement, no lights save a few ambient glowing points from various hall decorations lazily turning in place. Her heels click softly as she progresses, leading him onward.

"...when we were assigned here to this project, I thought it would mean a life of stability and control, for those who lacked it. I was mistaken. Now I wish to correct that mistake." She glances back at him. "And there are others who wish the same. Some you may be familiar with, I believe."

It takes effort not to ask her outright if Hanzo is one of the people she’s talking about. It would do him good to know the man has kept his moral compass and his own mind, but he won’t risk blowing his cover in front of someone he can’t trust. Even if she seems genuine enough. He won’t risk that. So he keeps his expression schooled to indifference, even as his heart feels just a bit lighter.

“Talon seems to be good at that. They make all sorts of promises, but forget to mention all the dirty work that goes with it.”

"Everything comes with a price."

But this is a step too far, even for her.

At long last they appear at a doorway that requires another slip of a keycard. "The labs you seek are below. There is a small shaft meant for delivering samples, but it should be large enough to fit through, for someone of your composition." She gives him another coolly surveying look.

"I will lock the elevator down. They will not be able to reach you, but you will have to navigate your way out on your own. From what I have heard, you are more than equal to the task."

Jesse nods, giving the room beyond the door a cursory glance before looking back at Symmetra. She’s very clearly not human, and he wonders if her appearance is by design or a result of some aspect of vampirism he doesn’t know about yet. Had this happened little over a year ago, he wouldn’t have hesitated to put a bullet in her just for those red eyes.

Best not to think about how many other good people he might have killed, in the name of hunting ‘evil.’

“Thanks for this. I’ll make it count. We’re going to shut ‘em down, and we’re going to help all the people we can doing it.”

People. Monsters. What is even the difference anymore?

“Once this mess is over with and you’re out of here… look us up.” He figures he doesn’t need to elaborate on the ‘us.’ “You and… whoever else you know. Maybe whoever told you about me. Sounds like they’ve got some good sense.”

Perhaps there is little difference at all. What would Jesse qualify as? What would the beasts being manipulated count as? These things are no longer quite so clear as they once were, not even for others of their kind.

"Sense enough to know that any such response would only tighten their own leash." The look on her face is almost a pitying one. Almost. But she quickly resumes that air of cold composure.

"No. We will remain where the most good can be done. We will see this through. You should do the same."

His suspicions about who informed Symmetra are becoming stronger. It’s the pity that does it—what reason would she have to give him that look otherwise? He gives a quick, tense nod, eyes closing for just a second as he does his best to compartmentalize. He has to focus on this mission if Hanzo, this woman, and others like them can ever be free.

The only way to do any of it will be to burn it all down. He can almost feel it already, the flames of a burning Talon base flickering at his fingertips. What else could he want but that violence and revenge? He’ll do whatever it takes to get there, and he'll do it alone if he has to. Breaking in here is just the beginning.

When he opens his eyes again, he gives his head a little shake and rubs a hand quickly over his left eye. Another headache he can’t afford. If they’re going to destroy Talon and end this, they need this data. He won’t leave without it.

“I intend to. Good luck then, and remember that offer when Talon isn’t around anymore. You and whoever else you know in the same boat as you.”

She gives him a curt nod, and once he's starting moving in that direction she lifts her mechanical hand, intending to close the entrance up behind him.

That leaves him only one direction to go. Down into the belly of the labs. The smell of chemicals and solvents creeps upwards, as does the distinct scent of wet dog. Unmistakable anywhere. It's like the mad scientist herself is hard at work even now, and might have a few specimens on hand.

Though whether they're there as security or fodder for her experiments, who can say.

Jesse doesn’t look back as he descends into the lab, his attention turning back to the mission itself. The hint of life down there helps him focus. Block out the emotion, concentrate on figuring out if something big and hairy is going to lunge out at you. It’s actually helpful for banishing thoughts of Hanzo and fiery revenge.

He treads silently over the tile and keeps an eye open for anything potentially useful. Paper files. Handwritten notes. USB sticks or computers. Things he could make copies of and get out with, hopefully without alerting anyone to the fact that he was even here.

If he’s caught, after all, it’s more than just his head on the chopping block.

There are a great deal of notes. On paper. Scattered through the lab. There is on occasion the sound of footsteps, the clinking of a vial, and a murmured 'fascinating' from a voice.

The USBs are kept closer to the main monitor and computer which, unfortunately, appears to be one of the positions the geneticist keeps moving back and forth between as she works.

There is no additional shuffling, at least. So perhaps the beasts aren't loose, after all.

Jesse has a burner phone he uses to snap pictures of the papers as he goes. It’s dark, but he does what he can with the ambient light. He’ll look at them in more detail later when there’s time to parse the data. Important thing now is just getting it down.

Then he hears the first murmur of the geneticist's voice and stops what he’s doing mid-photo. The paper he’s holding is set down, just as it was before, without a sound.

He shouldn’t reveal himself. Even if there is valuable data right in front of him, can’t get to it without revealing himself. And yet… he remembers when he saw her last. It hadn’t been long before her experiments on Reyes twisted him into something monstrous, destroying his humanity and essentially killing him. Painfully. Turning the once proud hunter into the exact thing he'd despised.

Had she worked for Talon then, too?

Jesse doesn’t remember taking Peacekeeper in his hand. It’s just there, and it feels right at home as he watches the geneticist from the shadows. He can’t target her in front of the monitor. If he has to shoot, he’ll damage the tech. So he gives it another second or two before stepping out and, inhumanly fast, presses the barrel of the gun squarely between her eyes.

There's a momentary flicker of surprise -- and truth be told, it's almost more annoyance at being paused in the middle of her work than shock at the sigh of a gun.

But then she recognizes the face behind it, and her thin lips curve into a cold smile. "Jesse McCree."

He wouldn't find much amiss in her demeanor, to be certain. Moira retains the imperious posture that would have been familiar to anyone working with them back then, though Jesse would of course note that there's no sound of a heartbeat coming from the geneticist. There's also a strange, ethereal scent clinging to the air around her, like loam on a grave.

She, meanwhile, is giving him a clinical once-over with a flick of her mismatched eyes. "The years haven't been kind to you. To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

This really had been a spectacularly bad idea. The only way he can get out of here now without immediately setting off alarms would be to make good on his threat and put a bullet in the geneticist. Maybe more than one, given she’s clearly changed since they last met. She's noticeably less alive for one.

It’s too late for second thoughts at any rate.

“See you’re still a charmer.” His own eyes narrow, never straying from her face with his attention on the periphery of his vision. She doesn’t look armed, but he’ll take note if she reaches for anything. And unlike Symmetra, she won’t be given a benefit of the doubt.

“How long you been on Talon’s payroll for, Moira?"

"An interrogation? How disappointing."

There's a snarl from nearby, as one of the sedated wolves being held on a nearby operating table stirs, attempting some drowsy semblance of resistance before falling under once more. It's not the only one down here...

But it is the only one still intact and breathing.

Moira doesn't even blink at the disturbance, sighing in a very put-upon manner. "You of all people should understand that circumstances sometimes result in unusual bedfellows. I wanted to further my work, Overwatch sought to restrict me, and Talon offered me the opportunity to see what could be accomplished. It's hardly a difficult choice."

There had been a time where Jesse had actually liked Moira. They’d never been friends, but he’d trusted her to have their backs when necessary. He wouldn’t turn his back on her now unless, say, an angry werewolf tried to jump him from behind.

“Yeah, sure it wasn’t a hard decision for you at all. Especially after what you did to Reyes. Couldn’t get away from that mess fast enough, could you?”

He’d been left in the dark about much of the what, how, and why surrounding Reyes’s condition. Why he’d allowed the experiments. What he and Moira had hoped to accomplish. Most of what he knew had been pieced together shortly before and entirely after he’d lost his mentor. He resents Moira for that too, even if his being left in the dark wasn’t her decision.

But he’s not here about that. He has to remind himself that he doesn’t have all the time in the world down here, and dallying could mean ending up on a table like that wolf.

Just one more thing.

“Sure you’re bored of this already, so just tell me one last thing and we can move along. Were you with Talon before Gabe died?”

"You always did lack imagination."

She surveys him a moment longer, debating going on about her work but no. He'd pull that trigger with little hesitation, wouldn't he. She knew him well enough to know when his blood was well and truly up. Not having a heartbeat himself didn't change that.

"What I did to him was free his potential. Humanity comes with such stark limitations. Surely you understand by now. Just look at you."

One hand gestures openly towards him, the space between them. "This is not death. This is evolving beyond death."

This is what it means to be an abomination.

The old hunter sentiment rises up fast and unbidden in his mind. He’s made peace with what he is… for the most part. And his opinion of other monsters has certainly undergone some change here lately. But would he have ever chosen this for himself, had he had a choice? Even knowing what he knows now? No.

Moira though? That’s not a huge surprise she turned out like this. His hand tightens on Peacekeeper, finger twitching on the trigger.

“What you did to him was kill him, plain and simple. And you didn’t answer my question.”

Which is also not a huge surprise.

"You're asking the wrong question."

Clearly she's enjoying whatever is being held just out of his reach, watching him try to keep composed long enough to get what he came here for. Of course, now that he's here? She has other plans for him. And that oh-so interesting presence that clings to him like a hot desert wind.

"Did it never occur to you that I was simply following orders from the same man you were? Perhaps you simply didn't know our dear Gabriel as well as you thought."

Of course it had occurred to him. Every worst-case scenario has occurred to him in the past eight years of chasing the Reaper and trying to put things right. Not all of them were worth entertaining or following up on, but they’d all kept him up at night at one point or another. Gabriel Reyes had known most, if not all, if Jesse’s secrets, but the reverse had clearly not been true.

So worse than her accusation is that she’s using it to bait him. And that it’s working. Jesse grits his teeth, baring his fangs with a warning growl. It almost feels like he’s been quicker to anger lately overall—stress, no doubt—but this anger at least feels warranted. It’s been a night, and he’s about ready to see if whatever Moira is now can be killed with old-fashioned bullets or not.

or if her blood would taste the same as a vampire’s, don’t you want to know

“Don’t have time to listen to you talk in circles. Guess his secrets died with him.” He motions to the computer behind her with a jerk of his head. “Go on and turn around, real slow, and put in your password. You give me any excuse at all to pull this trigger, I will, so don’t you try anything.”

Her answer is a low, husky chuckle.

"No. I don't think I will."

Of course he might well follow up on that threat. But she shows no sign of concern, mildly amused by the promise of violence if anything. "If you were like the others, we wouldn't be having this conversation. But you're special, aren't you? Twice damned, if you believe that sort of nonsense." She taps her chin thoughtfully, those too-sharp eyes staring as if through him entirely. "I'd be quite interested in seeing how that works, exactly."

Only Moira would find the term “twice-damned” to be a good thing. It’s an uncomfortable reminder how much she knows about him, how dangerous she is, and the liability that comes with letting oneself be known like that. It’s why he had opted to work alone after Reyes. Right up until circumstances had changed.

“Too bad I’m not here to perform.” The way she’s watching him makes his skin scrawl, and it has nothing to do with her inhuman scent or lack of a pulse. She’s looking at him like she wants him strapped down to a table just like one of her specimens.

“Now don’t make me waste a bullet.”

"You can keep them where they are, McCree. I have no use for them. You, on the other hand?"

When she moves, it's almost impossible to track. A split-second from composed and poised to a lunge, as though to tackle him. But before she can collide with him, and before his bullet can pierce her form, she dissolves into dark wisps, like fog on the moors.

It drifts behind him before abruptly condensing into Moira's form once more, and a hand extends, nails curling. Seizing upon the very essence of the man in front of her and beginning to drain it away, like blood from a wound.

But blood is not what she feeds on.

Jesses tenses and shoots, the bullet barely missing the computer that had been behind Moira and hitting the wall instead. The sound of the shot attracting attention is low on his list of priorities now though since she’d just turned into smoke like some kind of two-bit magic act.

The blow he’d been expecting doesn’t come, and he’s only barely able to place her being behind him before he feels a sickening tug somewhere deep in his core. Even though he does not breath, he makes an almost strangled sound as his body seizes up.

The feeling isn’t unfamiliar. It’s not blood that being drained, but something equally vital… it is, he realizes with a sinking feeling, not unlike how it had felt when Reaper had sunk his talons into Jesse’s chest and taken… whatever he’d taken.

“Not your damn lab rat—” he grates out as he turns, forcing his arm up to shoot again. Whatever she’s doing is working, and it’s working fast. He should’ve shot her on sight.

Just as before, she slips away again, leaving but a trail of black wisps behind her. Oh, he's still got quite a bit of fight left in him. And she doesn't want him dead, no. What a waste that would be. Where else would she find such an oddity, one that could test the limits of so many potential experiments in the future?

And here he is, alone. Practically gift-wrapped.

"We will see, won't we?" Moira's purr comes from the side, this time, and again that gut-jerk sensation follows as she extends her hand, fingers more like talons...and for a moment he might see something strange. A figure that matches her poise, her stature, but pale, white-eyed and ghostly, overlayed as Moira closes in to siphon off those last, delicious tendrils of life essence from him. Just enough to leave him...well. As close to alive as their kind got.

"Surrender to my will."

Moira had always been surprisingly formidable in the field, given her role as a scientist, but he’s never seen her do anything like this. The only time he’s encountered anything similar is with the Reaper. The smoke, the energy absorption—but it’s not like the parallels are helping him here. Last time he’d run into that thing, he’d nearly died again, and it appears that this run-in with Moira is no different.

He fights her, much as he can, but the battle is all internal as his body gives way. His gun drops from numb fingers as he grits his teeth, down on one knee now, glaring defiantly up at her until the last.

There’s a flicker of red in his eye, just for a moment as his consciousness fades. Too little too late.

No. He didn’t survive it all just for this. Just to fall here. His fingers curl against the tile as the two versions of her swim in his vision. One alive, human. One very much not.

But it’s too much in the end. His eyes roll back, and his weight hits the floor. Without a pulse, and with no breath, he might as well be truly dead. The only reason he isn’t is the faintest flicker of two pulses of life within him. Two souls, flickering like the wicks of candles in a strong breeze.

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