Regardless, he raises his hands with a look that that could almost be described as put-out. As he waits, he blinks, perhaps for the first time—and after, his eyes look normal again. Like McCree’s. He has the strength for that now at least.
“Where to now, doc? Back to the lab? Or do you have somethin' more interesting for me?"
"As interesting as destroying a lab's worth of equipment?" she replies dryly, before sliding her thumb along the underside of the cuffs. They retract, falling away, before she bends to attend to those around his ankles as well.
A little more swiftly, and with her attention ever on him.
"It has been determined that you are worth a great deal to Talon. The method of your service can be influenced by your actions, moving forward. Some believe that a proper operative could be made of you. Particularly since Overwatch trusts the man you reside within."
“You had a choice,” he reminds her, not one ounce of regret in his voice. “Part of that was givin’ the equipment up. You can hardly blame me.”
He watches her right back, not unlike the way he’d watched the man dead at their feet. Like he has half a mind to pounce at any moment. The effect is perhaps dimmed by the fact that his eyes look human now though.
“Suppose I should be flattered. Y’all must be confident you can convince me to follow your orders, to be considerin’ a position with such high stakes.”
His hands now free, he rubs at his wrists and stretches out his legs, arching his back in a languid stretch.
Her lip twitches ever so slightly at his remark. He doesn't know. Good. Best to keep it that way.
"You are a demon. One side could certainly see to your needs better than the other. But if you prefer to be locked away as a scientific curiosity until your host finally expires, that is always an option," she replies evenly, fingers steepling primly in front of her.
"Trust that we've taken measures to ensure you can be contained once more, if necessary. But if you are willing to conduct yourself appropriately, you will find life here much less restrictive. And no one will attempt to bottle you back up, for a start."
“Just so long as I’m a good dog at the end of your leash.”
He finally goes to stand, the process taking more relying on the wall than he’d like. But once upright, he’s able to stand on his own, and he takes a moment to look himself over. Prominent scarring still on his torso, body weak but responsive. He looks down at his own hand, the flesh and blood one, closing his fingers into a fist before opening them again.
A broken body, but his nonetheless. It’s a start.
“And who do I report to around here? You?” He looks up at her with one eyebrow raised. “A woman who could’ve been a demon in another life—seems appropriate.”
"Charming," she replies flatly, before gesturing for him to follow. It's a test of sorts. Leave him his mobility, his perception of freedom. See what he'll do with it when given the opportunity.
Nothing need change. And the failsafe in case he decides to act out of turn courses through his blood. And how willing he had been to suck down every last drop. So much the better.
The demon would really love nothing more than to see if Moira’s blood is as edible as any other monster’s—and if it’s not, finding another way to dispense with her. Preferably in a particularly painful way. But he knows better than to try just now, with her on her guard and him in an unknown place and weakened to boot. If he’s patient, a better opportunity will present itself. He’s sure of that.
So he follows, keen eyes taking note of everything there is to see. Any people they pass, and what they’re visibly armed with. The structure of the building. What rooms there might be so see.
He can tow the line for as long as it suits him. And when it doesn't, he doesn't see what's stopping him from leaving this place entirely.
In the meantime, out of curiosity, he focuses his attention internally in search of that bond. After all, if his sire is around... well, who better to help him recover his strength?
The presence is surprisingly close, when he reaches out. On a lower level, seemingly in conference with others here at the base.
It takes Hanzo somewhat by surprise to feel that sudden tug, and he's certain they must have noticed the way his gaze suddenly flickered up, attention drawn elsewhere. But none of them say anything, and Hanzo puts it from his mind for now.
The fool got himself captured. Why is he not surprised?
He doesn’t engage any further than that, though he thinks he could despite the distance. Their bond is metaphysical, which a realm he’s well-practiced in. It really had been a waste that Jesse hadn’t learned to utilize it more. He’d barely even scratched the surface, and more’s the pity, but it’ll serve the demon well. Any move he makes on that front won’t be expected.
Content with the thought that his and Hanzo’s paths will cross before long, he continues his survey of the base, keeping Moira always within his line of sight. She still has tricks, that’s a given. But what will they be?
None she's willing to give away so readily. And anyway, the theory is if the demon feels like he's got some freedom, some range of movement, his reactions will be more genuine. They'll be able to learn what to expect, plan for the future.
The experiment is still happening, but not quite on the scale Moira would have likely hoped for. Still. It's better than nothing, which seems to be the consensus all around.
Then, his first opportunity presents itself. Overwatch has noticed he's gone missing, and are investigating. They'll need to look into where these search parties wind up, and if possible? Neutralize the agents involved.
Surely, a task that asks too little of so powerful a creature.
Talon plays its cards close to its chest. Unsurprising, for an organization that has lasted so long and become so powerful—but also puzzling, considering they haven’t made their methods of control more overt. It makes the demon antsy. They already think they can reign him in, clearly. But just how do they intend to do that?
That, or they’re foolish enough to trust him. He knows better than to underestimate them that much.
“Gonna need my gun,” he comments airily when the details of his first “mission” are revealed. “Could operate with just any firearm, but you’d be riskin’ some subpar performance.” He has all of Jesse’s knowledge about Overwatch still, and everything he needs to know about the agents themselves. Taking them out would be easy if he were inclined to follow orders. He can already guess where the teams might end up: Jesse’s old watering hole in New Mexico for starters, on the off-chance he just jumped ship. One team would look into the facility where he was captured, likely knowing by now he’d accessed certain files before he’d left. They might not enter the town and risk being noticed, but they’d be nearby. And there’d be those left behind at the base. A skeleton crew at best.
It’s a test for Talon as much as himself. Will they let him go alone? Surely not, but what’s to stop him from taking out the entourage? That is the plan after all. That, or take out a few Talon agents around the base before even getting to the outside. That second option is looking better by the minute, if only Moira would give him some space to breathe.
Sadly, it doesn't look like she's letting him off his leash just yet. Nor is he being given his weapon, not until it comes closer to time for him to depart. And of course, there's the matter of which poor bastard is going to have the task of trying to wrangle a demon in human skin.
Really, there's only one choice.
And it takes everything Hanzo has to remain composed behind his mask as Moira instructs them both. They'll be allowed to deliberate which targets to head towards, depending on how ambitious the pair of them feel. She's obviously relishing the discomfort in the room as Hanzo stares down McCree.
Something is wrong. Something is wrong with him, but he can't place what, and Moira hasn't broken that particular subject yet.
‘Jesse’ can feel the weight of Hanzo’s stare, but does an exemplary job of pretending he doesn’t. This is both a blessing and a curse, having his sire be the one to accompany him. He has to decide the best way to take advantage of it before he engages. So his attention remains on Moira, thoughts only half on the mission, his countenance relaxed save for the flash of annoyance at being denied his gun—an understandable reaction, surely, even if it were still Jesse at the wheel.
Once the mission briefing is over, he leans his arms on the table in front of him, expression thoughtful.
“We’ve got ourselves some options. Taking out one of the teams in a civilian area would be easiest, and they’ll be the ones least prepared for an attack. But if we wanted to get boots on the ground at the base…” which he has not revealed the location of, assuming they don’t already know, “… they’d probably let me wander right on in. But that has the highest risk of going badly for us.”
It’s then that he turns his gaze to Hanzo, familiar honey-brown eyes locking on his sire’s.
It's hard to say what he thinks or feels, with that mask in place. All that remains truly visible are his eyes, which have been staring unblinkingly at Jesse for some time. Once the other's gaze moves back towards him, he jerks a look at Moira, who smiles placidly. Waiting for his response.
Damn her.
After a moment of silent deliberation, Hanzo fixes his dark eyes on the intel instead.
"We should refrain from drawing attention to our movements. Attacking the base is the riskiest, but a precise strike at their core will ensure the most damage done. If it is to be the two of us, we can remain mobile enough to evade their defenses. If we do not escape, I suspect you will still gain some use from our efforts."
“At least Overwatch doesn’t make it a point to torture its prisoners. Worst that will happen is we get bored behind bars. Speakin’ of—”
He turns his attention back to Moira, his smile sharp.
“You gonna let me feed again before we leave? I’d say we should head out tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, but you might as well not send us out at all without repairing some of the damage. You wouldn’t want a slip-up from me that would cost you your hard-won prize over here.”
He glances sidelong at Hanzo, only long enough to acknowledge him. The elder vampire has an admirable poker face, but beneath that, his emotions are turbulent. And so easy to stir up, if you know the right buttons to push.
At the word 'damage', Hanzo's eyes dart towards the scientist. She doesn't so much as bat an eye, though said eyes do narrow slightly at the demon. She sees what he did, there.
"You will be both be allowed to feed before venturing out, naturally. Feel free to take the evening to come up with your plan of attack." Finally she meets Hanzo's eyes, burning into her from where he stands motionless. "If he attempts anything, I trust you'll see that he's dealt with appropriately."
"As I would deal with all such matters," Hanzo replies coldly. And the demon can no doubt feel the tension and fury being kept in check, as Moira chuckles and turns to make her way out.
"Then allow me to let you two become...reacquainted."
She’s not going to let Hanzo in on his little secret then. Not yet. Another curiosity, but one that at least works to his advantage in the moment. He waits for the door to shut behind her before letting his shoulders slump and his eyes shut. The picture of a man taking a moment to pull himself together.
“Never did like her much, and the feeling was always mutual.”
His eyes open again, gaze drifting over the intel in front of him before landing back on Hanzo. Hesitant, almost.
"Looks like you're really takin' to life here, aren't you?"
He stares at him intently, reaching out to search for any sign of what lies behind Jesse's eyes...but it's almost too bright to behold. That spark, that fire he'd always felt inside the other seems now to eclipse everything else, and every preternatural sense he has feels ill at ease.
"...what have they done to you?" Only now, with Moira gone, does he dare to ask. Only now does he feel that desperation to know clawing unbearably against the inside of his ribcage.
How has this come to pass? That Jesse would willingly turn against the people he seemed to put so much faith in.
He leans back in his chair, pretending not to feel Hanzo on the edge of his awareness. Whatever the man is looking for with those finely honed senses of his, he won’t find it. But his trying does make it easier for the demon to attempt eavesdropping on the vampire’s thoughts. Not too deeply, hopefully not enough to be noticed. Just enough to enjoy the show.
“I got captured on a recon mission, and Doc there keeps a whole surgical kit tipped in silver.” He shrugs, an attempt at a smile slipping into a grimace. “Wouldn’t you know it, but a whole night under the knife… makes it hard to say no to much of anything.”
When that door had closed and they had parted ways, all those months ago, Hanzo had determined it best to lock away every thought, every feeling, every memory he had of the two of them. Bury it deep in the cold earth and let it shrivel, until it could no longer pain him. Yet now, like some corpse rising from its grave, all that concern and want, the fear and pain, all of it rushes back now that Jesse is within arm's reach.
But all his senses scream wrong, wrong, wrong as he stands there in his presence. Where is he? Why can't he feel him there?
The dream.
"You were...coerced, then." He sounds dubious, at best.
Hanzo doesn’t know Jesse as well as the demon does—no one could—but he knows him well enough. He wouldn’t have caved under the torture, would’ve rather gone mad or died before he risked betraying the people and the ideals he believed in. Might’ve gotten his wish too if it hadn’t been for his unwelcome failsafe.
It’s impressive all the same, how easily Hanzo is able to isolate the problem. That wrongness. It’s only a matter of time before he figures it out on his own.
Decisions, decisions.
His laugh is a quiet, genuine sound that lacks any and all warmth.
“Suppose it is, isn’t it?” He stands, brushes a bit of dust off of one sleeve of the shirt they’d allowed him, then looks up at Hanzo with a secretive smile. Like he’s already in on the joke.
“So the real question is, what else did Dr. O'Deorain do in that lab? Are you sure you want to know?”
His voice is clipped, as cold as it had been when speaking to Moira himself. He knows Talon have a talent for brainwashing their less-cooperative operatives. Perhaps that's it, and they've called him in to observe how well their methods have corrupted his fledgling.
They want him to know what will happen if he steps out of line.
But that doesn't explain that choking feeling when he tries to reach across the blood bond. It's not just his mind in danger here, somehow.
“So sure of yourself.” He leans his hip against the table, arms folded over his chest. “But I’m always willin’ to make a deal. So, the truth from you for…” He tilts his head back and hums, as if debating with himself, even though there’s really no question of what he wants.
“First—” he holds up one finger. “Information. They have something in the works to control me, and they’re damn cocky about it. I want to know if you know anything. And two—” A second finger. “Your blood. A little from you will go a lot farther than however many humans they try to throw at me before the mission, and I don’t want to wait besides."
It's not him. There's no way it can be him, not as he remembers him. The mannerisms are wrong, unsettling to witness in Jesse's skin. Maybe he acts like this for other people, but not him. Not for a long time now. And since when did Jesse hold so little regard for humans?
This is a stranger. Not the same man he'd traveled the country with. Not the same warm eyes that had looked at him from across the pillows. Not the Jesse who had called out to him during their last encounter, at the Talon base. This is an impostor, which leaves the question of what has become of Jesse in the meanwhile.
If he yet lives.
He restrains from seizing this creature by the lapels and shaking him until the answers come rattling out, but only just. There is a definite shift in his posture all the same, his eyes narrowing. "You will get nothing until you tell me who you are, and what you have done with him," he replies, and his voice is nearly a snarl.
Best he not test his patience, when it comes to his fledgling.
“Oh Hanzo,” the demon drawls, his smile all teeth—specifically, fang. “You do care.”
Then he’s launching himself from the table, intent on grasping Hanzo by the throat. All that anger, that worry—will he be able to taste it on his blood? It had been worth waiting just a little bit longer. He’d have almost been disappointed if the vampire had actually agreed to his terms.
He’s not sure what he’ll do with Hanzo yet. There’s power in this bond, and in the blood itself. Probably he’ll spare him after taking the sustenance he needs to destroy the facility. It would be such a waste to do away with him so soon, just when they’ve started to get to know one another.
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Regardless, he raises his hands with a look that that could almost be described as put-out. As he waits, he blinks, perhaps for the first time—and after, his eyes look normal again. Like McCree’s. He has the strength for that now at least.
“Where to now, doc? Back to the lab? Or do you have somethin' more interesting for me?"
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A little more swiftly, and with her attention ever on him.
"It has been determined that you are worth a great deal to Talon. The method of your service can be influenced by your actions, moving forward. Some believe that a proper operative could be made of you. Particularly since Overwatch trusts the man you reside within."
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He watches her right back, not unlike the way he’d watched the man dead at their feet. Like he has half a mind to pounce at any moment. The effect is perhaps dimmed by the fact that his eyes look human now though.
“Suppose I should be flattered. Y’all must be confident you can convince me to follow your orders, to be considerin’ a position with such high stakes.”
His hands now free, he rubs at his wrists and stretches out his legs, arching his back in a languid stretch.
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"You are a demon. One side could certainly see to your needs better than the other. But if you prefer to be locked away as a scientific curiosity until your host finally expires, that is always an option," she replies evenly, fingers steepling primly in front of her.
"Trust that we've taken measures to ensure you can be contained once more, if necessary. But if you are willing to conduct yourself appropriately, you will find life here much less restrictive. And no one will attempt to bottle you back up, for a start."
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He finally goes to stand, the process taking more relying on the wall than he’d like. But once upright, he’s able to stand on his own, and he takes a moment to look himself over. Prominent scarring still on his torso, body weak but responsive. He looks down at his own hand, the flesh and blood one, closing his fingers into a fist before opening them again.
A broken body, but his nonetheless. It’s a start.
“And who do I report to around here? You?” He looks up at her with one eyebrow raised. “A woman who could’ve been a demon in another life—seems appropriate.”
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Nothing need change. And the failsafe in case he decides to act out of turn courses through his blood. And how willing he had been to suck down every last drop. So much the better.
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So he follows, keen eyes taking note of everything there is to see. Any people they pass, and what they’re visibly armed with. The structure of the building. What rooms there might be so see.
He can tow the line for as long as it suits him. And when it doesn't, he doesn't see what's stopping him from leaving this place entirely.
In the meantime, out of curiosity, he focuses his attention internally in search of that bond. After all, if his sire is around... well, who better to help him recover his strength?
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It takes Hanzo somewhat by surprise to feel that sudden tug, and he's certain they must have noticed the way his gaze suddenly flickered up, attention drawn elsewhere. But none of them say anything, and Hanzo puts it from his mind for now.
The fool got himself captured. Why is he not surprised?
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He doesn’t engage any further than that, though he thinks he could despite the distance. Their bond is metaphysical, which a realm he’s well-practiced in. It really had been a waste that Jesse hadn’t learned to utilize it more. He’d barely even scratched the surface, and more’s the pity, but it’ll serve the demon well. Any move he makes on that front won’t be expected.
Content with the thought that his and Hanzo’s paths will cross before long, he continues his survey of the base, keeping Moira always within his line of sight. She still has tricks, that’s a given. But what will they be?
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The experiment is still happening, but not quite on the scale Moira would have likely hoped for. Still. It's better than nothing, which seems to be the consensus all around.
Then, his first opportunity presents itself. Overwatch has noticed he's gone missing, and are investigating. They'll need to look into where these search parties wind up, and if possible? Neutralize the agents involved.
Surely, a task that asks too little of so powerful a creature.
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That, or they’re foolish enough to trust him. He knows better than to underestimate them that much.
“Gonna need my gun,” he comments airily when the details of his first “mission” are revealed. “Could operate with just any firearm, but you’d be riskin’ some subpar performance.” He has all of Jesse’s knowledge about Overwatch still, and everything he needs to know about the agents themselves. Taking them out would be easy if he were inclined to follow orders. He can already guess where the teams might end up: Jesse’s old watering hole in New Mexico for starters, on the off-chance he just jumped ship. One team would look into the facility where he was captured, likely knowing by now he’d accessed certain files before he’d left. They might not enter the town and risk being noticed, but they’d be nearby. And there’d be those left behind at the base. A skeleton crew at best.
It’s a test for Talon as much as himself. Will they let him go alone? Surely not, but what’s to stop him from taking out the entourage? That is the plan after all. That, or take out a few Talon agents around the base before even getting to the outside. That second option is looking better by the minute, if only Moira would give him some space to breathe.
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Really, there's only one choice.
And it takes everything Hanzo has to remain composed behind his mask as Moira instructs them both. They'll be allowed to deliberate which targets to head towards, depending on how ambitious the pair of them feel. She's obviously relishing the discomfort in the room as Hanzo stares down McCree.
Something is wrong. Something is wrong with him, but he can't place what, and Moira hasn't broken that particular subject yet.
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Once the mission briefing is over, he leans his arms on the table in front of him, expression thoughtful.
“We’ve got ourselves some options. Taking out one of the teams in a civilian area would be easiest, and they’ll be the ones least prepared for an attack. But if we wanted to get boots on the ground at the base…” which he has not revealed the location of, assuming they don’t already know, “… they’d probably let me wander right on in. But that has the highest risk of going badly for us.”
It’s then that he turns his gaze to Hanzo, familiar honey-brown eyes locking on his sire’s.
“Thoughts?”
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Damn her.
After a moment of silent deliberation, Hanzo fixes his dark eyes on the intel instead.
"We should refrain from drawing attention to our movements. Attacking the base is the riskiest, but a precise strike at their core will ensure the most damage done. If it is to be the two of us, we can remain mobile enough to evade their defenses. If we do not escape, I suspect you will still gain some use from our efforts."
A quiet accusation, but pointed all the same.
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He turns his attention back to Moira, his smile sharp.
“You gonna let me feed again before we leave? I’d say we should head out tomorrow, or the day after at the latest, but you might as well not send us out at all without repairing some of the damage. You wouldn’t want a slip-up from me that would cost you your hard-won prize over here.”
He glances sidelong at Hanzo, only long enough to acknowledge him. The elder vampire has an admirable poker face, but beneath that, his emotions are turbulent. And so easy to stir up, if you know the right buttons to push.
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"You will be both be allowed to feed before venturing out, naturally. Feel free to take the evening to come up with your plan of attack." Finally she meets Hanzo's eyes, burning into her from where he stands motionless. "If he attempts anything, I trust you'll see that he's dealt with appropriately."
"As I would deal with all such matters," Hanzo replies coldly. And the demon can no doubt feel the tension and fury being kept in check, as Moira chuckles and turns to make her way out.
"Then allow me to let you two become...reacquainted."
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“Never did like her much, and the feeling was always mutual.”
His eyes open again, gaze drifting over the intel in front of him before landing back on Hanzo. Hesitant, almost.
"Looks like you're really takin' to life here, aren't you?"
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"...what have they done to you?" Only now, with Moira gone, does he dare to ask. Only now does he feel that desperation to know clawing unbearably against the inside of his ribcage.
How has this come to pass? That Jesse would willingly turn against the people he seemed to put so much faith in.
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“I got captured on a recon mission, and Doc there keeps a whole surgical kit tipped in silver.” He shrugs, an attempt at a smile slipping into a grimace. “Wouldn’t you know it, but a whole night under the knife… makes it hard to say no to much of anything.”
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When that door had closed and they had parted ways, all those months ago, Hanzo had determined it best to lock away every thought, every feeling, every memory he had of the two of them. Bury it deep in the cold earth and let it shrivel, until it could no longer pain him. Yet now, like some corpse rising from its grave, all that concern and want, the fear and pain, all of it rushes back now that Jesse is within arm's reach.
But all his senses scream wrong, wrong, wrong as he stands there in his presence. Where is he? Why can't he feel him there?
The dream.
"You were...coerced, then." He sounds dubious, at best.
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Hanzo doesn’t know Jesse as well as the demon does—no one could—but he knows him well enough. He wouldn’t have caved under the torture, would’ve rather gone mad or died before he risked betraying the people and the ideals he believed in. Might’ve gotten his wish too if it hadn’t been for his unwelcome failsafe.
It’s impressive all the same, how easily Hanzo is able to isolate the problem. That wrongness. It’s only a matter of time before he figures it out on his own.
Decisions, decisions.
His laugh is a quiet, genuine sound that lacks any and all warmth.
“Suppose it is, isn’t it?” He stands, brushes a bit of dust off of one sleeve of the shirt they’d allowed him, then looks up at Hanzo with a secretive smile. Like he’s already in on the joke.
“So the real question is, what else did Dr. O'Deorain do in that lab? Are you sure you want to know?”
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His voice is clipped, as cold as it had been when speaking to Moira himself. He knows Talon have a talent for brainwashing their less-cooperative operatives. Perhaps that's it, and they've called him in to observe how well their methods have corrupted his fledgling.
They want him to know what will happen if he steps out of line.
But that doesn't explain that choking feeling when he tries to reach across the blood bond. It's not just his mind in danger here, somehow.
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“First—” he holds up one finger. “Information. They have something in the works to control me, and they’re damn cocky about it. I want to know if you know anything. And two—” A second finger. “Your blood. A little from you will go a lot farther than however many humans they try to throw at me before the mission, and I don’t want to wait besides."
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This is a stranger. Not the same man he'd traveled the country with. Not the same warm eyes that had looked at him from across the pillows. Not the Jesse who had called out to him during their last encounter, at the Talon base. This is an impostor, which leaves the question of what has become of Jesse in the meanwhile.
If he yet lives.
He restrains from seizing this creature by the lapels and shaking him until the answers come rattling out, but only just. There is a definite shift in his posture all the same, his eyes narrowing. "You will get nothing until you tell me who you are, and what you have done with him," he replies, and his voice is nearly a snarl.
Best he not test his patience, when it comes to his fledgling.
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Then he’s launching himself from the table, intent on grasping Hanzo by the throat. All that anger, that worry—will he be able to taste it on his blood? It had been worth waiting just a little bit longer. He’d have almost been disappointed if the vampire had actually agreed to his terms.
He’s not sure what he’ll do with Hanzo yet. There’s power in this bond, and in the blood itself. Probably he’ll spare him after taking the sustenance he needs to destroy the facility. It would be such a waste to do away with him so soon, just when they’ve started to get to know one another.
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