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.
He's already tensed, and by the time the demon launches himself at him he's already prepared, seeking to grasp him by the arm and throw him over his shoulder at the nearby wall. Is he prepared to nock an arrow and strike?
Maybe. But there's the risk that Jesse is still in there. Somewhere. If he's the one responsible for his final death, after all this time...
The demon hasn’t been in control of this body for long, but he knows the ins and outs of it well enough. That, and it’s an immortal body, capable of all sorts of fun things. What a treat.
He somehow manages to twist in the air after being thrown, despite the small amount of space available for it, his back hitting the wall with a loud thump as he lands on his feet and skids back into it. The smile is still there. If anything, it’s gotten bigger.
He takes that moment to reach out across their bond, plucking it like a harp string, projecting down the line a voice solid and clear—
I see you.
Then he’s lunging again, looking to sweep Hanzo’s feet out from under him.
It's the place to hit, his weakness if he has one. But he bounds back, lands on the table, sliding into a ready stance as muscle memory takes control of his body. Decades of training, shifting forward ahead of whatever sentiment might compel him to hold back, for Jesse's sake.
So a swift kick aimed at the demon's temple follows. Time to lock off whatever might call back across that bond, and put this creature in its place.
Then, only then, do they see to what remains of his fledgling.
The hit connects, snapping his head to the side, more like he’d been slapped rather than kicked with preternatural force. For a moment, he just stands like that, his face turned away and down. Then, slowly, he turns back and looks up. His eyes are already awash in black, deep and endless as the void, and it finishes taking over his sclera as he cocks his head.
“Hanzo, Hanzo, Hanzo…”
His smile is almost indulgent, the expression one would share with a precocious child.
Hanzo snarls behind the mask before leaping back, off the table on the other side. But rather than let that stand between them as a barricade, he swivels on his heel, pivoting to slam his heel into the edge of the heavy table, ramming it backwards towards his quarry.
He grunts as the table hits him, the sound turning into an almost breathless laugh. He’d at least gotten his hands up to lessen the blow, and the wood beneath his palms darkens and cracks, purple-crimson flames flickering out from the point of contact.
“What is it? Do I sound too much like him?”
His fingers curl against the wood as it flakes away from his touch. Burned. Corrupted.
“Knew you’d catch on eventually. You’re sharp. It’s one of the things he liked about you, y’know.”
He lets go of the table and leaps up onto it in one fluid motion. Not as well as he could though. There’s something inelegant about it. Hanzo had hit him in the one place he still hurts.
“But what if you’re wrong? I’ll tell you honest if you are, cross my heart.”
Liked. A deliberate choice, that tense, and he knows it is better to assume this thing is trying to wind him up than try to divine the truth from its use.
And it's easier to hide his pain behind the mask, his eyes cold and black as he stares this monster down...or up, now that it has some height on him again.
"The word of a demon?" he spits in return, muscles coiling briefly before he leaps up, landing on the table across from him with barely a sound.
The demon's smirk is entirely too pleased. It does feel nice to be acknowledged after so long, trapped and forgotten. Reduced to a tool in a mortal's arsenal.
"Believe it or not, I can be honest. When I'm of a mind to be. I already told you the truth about what happened to Jesse McCree."
This time, instead of words, it's sensory feedback that finds its way along their bond. A flash of pain, helplessness, and rage. Bonds at his wrists, his ankles. The burn of silver, over and over and over again. The hoarse sound of his screaming.
He darts in close as that all plays out, hand looking to clasp down bruisingly hard on Hanzo's shoulder.
They've never really tested the strength of the bond, what could be sent willingly rather than glimpsed by accident. It's vivid enough when they don't even try.
When it comes through, it washes over him like a wave, and for a moment? It feels like his skin that silver-edged blade is cutting through. It is his throat hoarse from screams, his fury straining in futile struggle.
This is why such a bond is taboo. How easily it can be weaponized.
It's that grip that snaps him out of it, and with a cry he surges forward, striking out with the heel of his palm at the demon's jaw in order to jar him loose.
The demon steps back, letting go of Hanzo's shoulder while his other arm sweeps up to block and redirect the blow. In one movement, he turns his hand and grasps Hanzo's wrist, wrenching it down with force. The infernal heat that had scorched the table burns in his palms again, though not quite as strongly. Wouldn't want Hanzo being burnt to a crisp.
"Give me what I want, and I'll take Talon down for you. You got to want to see 'em burn bad as I do."
He aims a punch towards Hanzo's solar plexus, the grip of his other hand only tightening.
He can feel that heat threatening, charring the fabric of his sleeve as he attempts to twist free of that hold. But nothing changes the baleful look in his eyes.
"You know nothing of what I want, demon--"
The words cut off abruptly as that strike connects. Harder than it should. Another vampire's strike should bear substantial weight behind it, but this? He reels. If he drew breath he would not be able to, but it's enough to daze him all the same.
What is pain to a demon but at best a novelty, and at worst an inconvenience? He can be hurt though, truly—just not through the means most are capable of. Maybe if the scientist were still here she’d have a trick up her sleeve. Works for him just fine that Hanzo is too proud to call out for help.
His hand strikes out, lightning quick, and closes around the back of Hanzo’s neck to tug him in close. It’s a mockery of a lover’s embrace, the way he holds Hanzo there in the unyielding grip of both hands. His head ducks down, lips brushing the curve of his neck in a semblance of a kiss.
“I know exactly what you want, Shimada Hanzo. And he’s dead and gone now.”
Then he bares his teeth, having every intention of sinking them in deep.
Guilt and rage war within him as those teeth sink into skin, breaking the surface, and that familiar pulls draws potent, ancient blood to the surface.
I should have stayed with him.
He thinks he can get away with this--!!
...I deserve this.
No, he deserves to die, for what he did!
The thoughts rage against one another, as he lifts his hands, grasping handfuls of thick hair to attempt to wrench him back. But the rush of sensation that always comes with being fed on is a dizzying thing, dangerous even to their own kind. His power literally bleeds out of him into this...this creature that's left where Jesse once stood.
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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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Maybe. But there's the risk that Jesse is still in there. Somewhere. If he's the one responsible for his final death, after all this time...
No. All he need do is subdue him, surely.
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He somehow manages to twist in the air after being thrown, despite the small amount of space available for it, his back hitting the wall with a loud thump as he lands on his feet and skids back into it. The smile is still there. If anything, it’s gotten bigger.
He takes that moment to reach out across their bond, plucking it like a harp string, projecting down the line a voice solid and clear—
I see you.
Then he’s lunging again, looking to sweep Hanzo’s feet out from under him.
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So a swift kick aimed at the demon's temple follows. Time to lock off whatever might call back across that bond, and put this creature in its place.
Then, only then, do they see to what remains of his fledgling.
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“Hanzo, Hanzo, Hanzo…”
His smile is almost indulgent, the expression one would share with a precocious child.
“You’re wastin’ my time, darlin’.”
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Hanzo snarls behind the mask before leaping back, off the table on the other side. But rather than let that stand between them as a barricade, he swivels on his heel, pivoting to slam his heel into the edge of the heavy table, ramming it backwards towards his quarry.
"I know what you are."
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“What is it? Do I sound too much like him?”
His fingers curl against the wood as it flakes away from his touch. Burned. Corrupted.
“Knew you’d catch on eventually. You’re sharp. It’s one of the things he liked about you, y’know.”
He lets go of the table and leaps up onto it in one fluid motion. Not as well as he could though. There’s something inelegant about it. Hanzo had hit him in the one place he still hurts.
“But what if you’re wrong? I’ll tell you honest if you are, cross my heart.”
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And it's easier to hide his pain behind the mask, his eyes cold and black as he stares this monster down...or up, now that it has some height on him again.
"The word of a demon?" he spits in return, muscles coiling briefly before he leaps up, landing on the table across from him with barely a sound.
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"Believe it or not, I can be honest. When I'm of a mind to be. I already told you the truth about what happened to Jesse McCree."
This time, instead of words, it's sensory feedback that finds its way along their bond. A flash of pain, helplessness, and rage. Bonds at his wrists, his ankles. The burn of silver, over and over and over again. The hoarse sound of his screaming.
He darts in close as that all plays out, hand looking to clasp down bruisingly hard on Hanzo's shoulder.
"I did him a favor, y'know."
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When it comes through, it washes over him like a wave, and for a moment? It feels like his skin that silver-edged blade is cutting through. It is his throat hoarse from screams, his fury straining in futile struggle.
This is why such a bond is taboo. How easily it can be weaponized.
It's that grip that snaps him out of it, and with a cry he surges forward, striking out with the heel of his palm at the demon's jaw in order to jar him loose.
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"Give me what I want, and I'll take Talon down for you. You got to want to see 'em burn bad as I do."
He aims a punch towards Hanzo's solar plexus, the grip of his other hand only tightening.
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"You know nothing of what I want, demon--"
The words cut off abruptly as that strike connects. Harder than it should. Another vampire's strike should bear substantial weight behind it, but this? He reels. If he drew breath he would not be able to, but it's enough to daze him all the same.
How? How is he this strong?
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His hand strikes out, lightning quick, and closes around the back of Hanzo’s neck to tug him in close. It’s a mockery of a lover’s embrace, the way he holds Hanzo there in the unyielding grip of both hands. His head ducks down, lips brushing the curve of his neck in a semblance of a kiss.
“I know exactly what you want, Shimada Hanzo. And he’s dead and gone now.”
Then he bares his teeth, having every intention of sinking them in deep.
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I should have stayed with him.
He thinks he can get away with this--!!
...I deserve this.
No, he deserves to die, for what he did!
The thoughts rage against one another, as he lifts his hands, grasping handfuls of thick hair to attempt to wrench him back. But the rush of sensation that always comes with being fed on is a dizzying thing, dangerous even to their own kind. His power literally bleeds out of him into this...this creature that's left where Jesse once stood.
His fault. This is his fault...
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