almightythirst | Open Post

There’s a bit of hubris that goes into becoming a hunter in the first place, and a lot more in staying one over time. It’s a pretty essential trait when you take a human and face them off against creatures of superior strength, supernatural abilities, and a longevity that dwarfs that of any mortal. That hubris keeps them going—but it can also be blinding. There’s a shortsightedness in thinking that, from your place in the stream of time, you know all of what’s important to know.

That’s quite clear to Jesse to some extent now. Long as he’s been hunting, he hadn’t really given a lot of thought to there being organized groups on the other side they didn’t already know about. Ones that went back so far, humans left alive today would have little to no knowledge of them.

“What? I thought-” He blinks and shakes his head, the polar opposite of Hanzo’s stillness. These human habits of his only come just slightly more delayed than before, not quite taking conscious thought to do, but also not coming quite so naturally as they used to. “You’re sayin’ there was more to it than them just makin’ a blind power grab?”

Which, now that he thinks about it, had been something he’d assumed himself without any real information one way or the other. How many other things had he just assumed about Hanzo the same way? Or about this aspect of the world in general? It’s an unsettling feeling.

It is perhaps not entirely his fault for thinking this way. A choice he's made, certainly, but the hunters prefer such mindsets. Easier to mold to their way of thinking, one that does not allow for any critical thought on why things are done, only that they are. Efficiently. Without mercy.

Not so different from training with the clan, in truth. Duty came before any need to question. Even now, Jesse's duty from life still drives him, and it is linked with Hanzo's now in a way that makes their meeting in the first place almost seemed destined. If one believed in such things.

"Of course." His chin lifts. "And if my brother aligned himself with your cause, after what happened, it was not by accident or chance."

Jesse’s eyes narrow a fraction. Your cause. A line in the sand, even if it’s hardly unfair to point out that it’s there. He has still been clinging to the duty he’s always known in life, even when it doesn’t fit into this new afterlife of his. Or with Hanzo’s. Still, something about the way it’s said rubs him the wrong way.

In reality, it's likely because it's just another reminder of the two paths they'd started out on. How different they are, and how unlikely it is that they would ever stay alongside one another for long.

“What was it then? You’re going to have to make it real clear to me where you’re goin’ with this.”

Because otherwise, a fella might be inclined to assume, and he doesn’t like where his assumptions are taking him.

"It was in defiance of the elders. Siding with who they thought to be their enemy." It would explain how he came into contact with Jesse, how he knew of him and the other hunters, and yet survived. If he had proven just how divorced he was from the clan and its interests, he could have easily secured a place for himself with this group.

Hanzo pauses, seeing that flicker of distaste cross Jesse's face with the association. Curious. He's not sure why the idea irks him so, but he leaves it lie for now.

As much as Jesse thinks he understands about what happened, he needs to know so much more.

"When my father was still head of the clan, something like Talon existed. A precursor of sorts. They extended an offer to my father to join them and support their interests, and in turn be given power beyond imagining. I can only assume being turned would be part of the bargain. He refused them."

He'd been so proud. So beyond the fear of death, so certain his legacy would endure regardless and his sons would keep the clan in check, despite their youth and inexperience. And what came next would therefore surprise no one.

"When he died, the elders sought to revisit that offer. And, as the heir to the clan..."

“They made the choice for you.”

Putting all the rest of it aside—Genji’s connection to hunters, what that could mean—this is where the heart of it is. What Hanzo’s clan had sought to do, and who gave them the ability to make it happen. Jesse rakes a hand back through his hair and turns his head, frowning out the window. His annoyance has shifted to more stable ground now, one where he clearly knows who is on what side. Talon and the Shimada clan. Their goals entangled, twisted together with the purpose of using Hanzo as their own instrument of power.

“So they’re the ones who started it. And they’re still tryin’ to get you to sign up. That takes a lot of nerve.”

Nerve, yes. Or a strong desire to possess the dragons. Hanzo knows what he'd lay his bets against.

"And now, it appears no matter what choice is made, we will in fact be choosing a side in doing so." After a moment's pause he reaches for the card Genji had offered him, pulling it quietly into view before extending it toward Jesse.

"The offer was made to you, as well. Do with it as you will."

One might assume that Reaper, being in league with Talon, would decide things for him rather quickly. But Jesse has surprised him before now. He may not want any part of this, for his own reasons, regardless of where the call comes from.

Choose a side, and be at the whims of another organization with its own goals. Or don’t choose, and be content with the fact that you have no cards on the table in a high-stakes game. Jesse takes the card and frowns down at it, taking in the font, the symbol…

The symbol.

He’s seen it before. It’s true that most hunters work alone, or in small groups, but… there had been one attempt at something bigger, at least in recent enough memory for Jesse to know about it. And it had fallen apart. Spectacularly. Which is exactly why he shouldn’t be looking at its logo printed on a piece of cardstock.

“… Shit.”

The curse is quiet but forceful. It explains why they’d even given him a second thought, why Genji had mentioned him at all.

“They’re gettin’ the gang back together.”

This is said with disbelief, as he hadn’t known there was any gang left to gather. But if Ana and Jack are still around, then who else? And what are they doing extending a hand to someone like Hanzo, who goes against everything an organization of hunters could stand for? Or him, for that matter?

"'The gang'?"

It means little to him. Another group, like so many, vying for power and purchase. They are against Talon, certainly, but there's little to recommend them beyond that and Genji's say-so.

That...is still strange to consider. His brother vouches for them. His brother is alive and--

Focus.

Instead he focuses on the way Jesse's expression changes, the disbelief that flickers there. Clearly, there is a story here to be told.

“You remember the hunters we ran into a few months ago, right? Two old-timers. Knocked me out cold.”

And he’d come-to with Hanzo hovering over him and the smell of ozone on his clothes. He’d never quite managed to figure out the details of how that had gone. What had always seemed to matter the most was that Hanzo had taken the time to rescue him at all, and the fleeting bit of worry he’d thought he’d seen on the other man’s face.

“I think they’re in on this. If they’re not, they’ll be pissed to know somebody is diggin’ up old graves. This group went up in flames years ago.”

He stares down at the card a moment longer, memorizing its contents before offering it back. It had been given to him after all. It’s his to keep.

Hanzo made a quietly thoughtful noise, the card whisked back and disappearing into a pocket once more. "Why would a group of hunters work with a demon, much less a pair of vampires?"

It makes little sense, unless they've had a severe change of heart. So the choice is between a group that would welcome them with open arms, and readily manipulate them to serve its own ends...

Or a group likely to be hostile and mistrustful, just as ready to make use of them as Talon would.

What a choice to make.

“Don’t have a clue to be honest. I was walkin’ on thin ice with my situation, back when we ran in the same circles.” His situation, AKA technically being possessed. “If it weren’t for Gabe, I don’t think they would’ve ever put up with me.”

But they had, and then they’d done more than that. That group of idealistic hunters—and the less idealistic, but no less entangled sub-group Jesse had been a part off—they’d become his family. Knowing that some semblance of it is coming back together, somewhere, pulls at something bittersweet in his chest. It’s no reason to go running back though. Not without knowing more.

And knowing more could be just a phone call away, if he were willing.

“But they were good people. Granted, that was a long time ago. And they were in the business of killin’ things like you… like us.” He shakes his head as if to clear it. Stupid thing to forget. He’s not one of them anymore, and he never will be again.

“… Hell if I know what to do now. What’re you thinkin’?”

"I have not yet decided."

There's been a great deal to taken in this evening. Many revelations upended and heaped upon them as they struggled to make sense of it all. Finding the correct path forward would take time. Consideration and thought. Clearing his mind of the residual anger and frustration.

This group might be what they need for the time being, if nothing else. But it's also asking to be put in close proximity to people he does not trust, and who would not trust him no matter who vouched for him.

Yet the possibility is there. Reconnection with the brother he'd long thought dead. And Jesse would be reunited with old comrades. It seems almost too good to be true, doesn't it?

It does seem too good to be true. All of it, from them both finding something they'd thought lost, to them going into it together, to this new group's intentions being genuinely good.

But if Jesse has learned anything over the years, it's that good things don't come free. There's always a catch. Only question is if it's a compromise or price worth paying.

"Yeah, well... it's a lot. This whole night has been a lot. We can take some time and think on it."

And they do have the time now, their only mission here in Hanamura having ended before it had really even begun.

Yes. The mission is over, and not in any way he could have anticipated.

He should be grateful, no? This is far better than a number of potential outcomes. Not only does Genji still live, he has forgiven him. He has extended a hand to him, to come fight at his side as they were always meant to do. As Father would have wanted...

Whatever the group's goals might be almost seem secondary, in light of that.

What if he decides not to? Jesse may still decide to reunite with his old comrades and if that happens? Well. It won't have been unforeseen. He'd known something like that could happen along the way, at any point. But so soon...

For a moment, he stares at Jesse, as if searching for the potential answer there in his face. Then, tentatively, he attempts to reach across that bond that's been weaving itself, stronger and tighter, every time they've shared blood.

What does he truly feel about all this?

Throughout his life, Jesse has gotten good at compartmentalizing. His ability to manage the way his emotions manifest themselves is one reason he’s so good at poker (aside from the cheating, which is the other major factor). It’s not a skill he always uses, but one he takes advantage of more than many might think.

So while he turns his attention back to the window, expression more or less neutral aside from the slight frown, his exterior gives away not much at all. But as Hanzo reaches out, he’ll find no mental barrier in his way. No walls to keep him out.

Neither will he find any sort of order to the chaos.

Unease. Uncertainty. Confusion. Hope? Nostalgia. Loss. Worry. Uncertainty. Longing.

they wouldn’t want me back why would they want me there they must be desperate otherwise it’s a trap but what if I'd do more harm than good there they gotta be desperate

what do they want from me from Genji from Hanzo

Hanzo Hanzo Hanzo

Guilt. Guilt. Longing. Uncertainty. Fear. Fear.

not saying anything he’s leaving but you knew that you knew it was coming you did what you had to but is he even safe should've done it different what's he thinking not saying anything say something

but what

is that

Jesse cocks his head to the side, giving his head a quick shake before sending a quizzical glance Hanzo’s way.

“You say somethin’ just now?”

It's chaos. Roiling emotions tumbling about and chasing themselves in circles. Hanzo was many things but empathetic could not often be counted as one of them, and to so starkly feel what it was that Jesse felt...

It was on some level reassuring. Many of those feelings, thoughts, fears, they had an echo familiar to him. If nothing else, Jesse feels as he does about much of this.

You did what you had to.

Hanzo's gaze remains steady as the other's attention falls back to him. Say something? What would he even say. Everything he's ever done or said has had a purpose to it and now he questions what that purpose even is. He's sought redemption, for the murder of his brother, now very much alive and having forgiven him. He's broken all bonds and wandered alone in the world for so long, seeking to avoid this growing conflict and all sides involved, only to find himself trapped securely in the web they've woven.

And he's not alone. Very much not alone.

Everything he's known as constant is slipping away like sand under his feet. Is it any wonder, furious as he was with Jesse, that he didn't want him gone from him? Weak as it would be to say the true reason out loud, he's become that constant to him. Even now, the only thing he knows with absolute certainty is--

"No." Hanzo swallows tensely. "Nothing."

--how absolutely fucked both of them are, at this point. At least together, they stood a chance of surviving this, whatever it was that was closing in around them.

For a moment, Jesse could’ve sworn he’d heard Hanzo’s voice. Quiet, like a whisper in his ear. Or in his head. It’s a feeling as familiar as is it is unsettling. His eyes linger on Hanzo’s—searching, though he couldn’t say exactly what he’s looking for. Might be there are too many things he’s hoping to find.

“… Guess the night must be catchin’ up to me.”

He resists the urge to turn, or look away again, or otherwise avoid looking at Hanzo head-on. It’s not often he gets to feeling cowardly, and he finds he doesn’t like it anymore than he ever has. Funny how he could stare down the barrel of a gun easily, but not face this without the urge to deflect.

“We should probably sleep on all this. But if you want to take a look, I’ve got records. Back from when that hunter outfit was active. Been scrapin’ together scraps over the years. Might give you a better idea of what they’re up to now, if you want to think more on that offer. Won’t tell you much about what the situation is these days, but. It’s a start.”

Rambling. He’s rambling.

“I’ll just set the laptop up. Look if you want.”

Hanzo hums, breaking his gaze and briefly rubbing the bridge of his nose between his fingers. "Of course."

It's probably too late, too much, on top of everything else. Attempting to concentrate is going to be taxing, to say the least. But they have to focus on the steps needed in order to survive.

Everything after that? Well...that's the question. Defining one's reason for existence doesn't happen overnight.

That gesture is a small thing, but more of a sign of fatigue than Jesse usually sees out of Hanzo. It's enough to give him pause. The man has been through a lifetime's worth of drama in just one night, not even counting all the associated memories and past trauma that had been dredged up in the process.

"... Y'know what? Doesn't have to be tonight."

He goes to his bag, producing a pen and paper instead of his laptop. On it, he writes down a set of seemingly random numbers, which is then torn out of the notepad and set on the table.

"Do me a favor and burn that or somethin' when you've got it memorized. It'll get you into the computer later. Just search up Overwatch."

There'd been a time he'd rather see that computer destroyed and all its precious contents lost forever before he'd trust it in the hands of an inhuman. The only other person who'd ever had access was Reyes. But that's not relevant now, so he doesn't say it. Maybe he'll change the password again, after Hanzo has gone. Or maybe he won't.

It's perhaps a sign of how overwhelmed he feels that he hadn't immediately recognized the significance of the offer. The laptop. The laptop, perhaps the most precious thing Jesse carried with him, outside of that gun of his.

And here he is, handing over the keys to that part of himself, his duty, without blinking. Hanzo stares at the slip of paper before reaching up slow, carefully taking the scrap of paper into his hand. His eyes quickly scan the code before lifting to rest on Jesse, brow set low and heavy with question.

But it's one he chooses not to voice, in the end.

"They are involved with the Reaper as well, then." They must be. Or they wouldn't be stored right alongside him. And he remembers those flashes he'd seen with Jesse's blood on his tongue, fear and fire and betrayal. Perhaps this is where that came together.

“He’s the one that recruited me to join up.”

That’s the all-too-simple way to put it. There’s so much more he could say about the story of the Reaper, and Overwatch, and how the whole experiment had fallen apart. How they’d never really even been full-fledged members, him and Reyes, and how the distrust between the two sides had turned into violence…

It’s too much to add to the weight of the night, and Hanzo has enough to consider without adding that to the mix. He can read it all later, the facts untouched by any bias Jesse would bring. His decision will be fairer then, and he won’t have the added burden of someone else’s emotional baggage on top of his own.

“And anyway, it’s not just all my intel on Reaper in there. I got other priorities y’know.” It’s a thin attempt at a joke, his smile added just as a matter of course. “Been huntin’ plenty of things over the years. And I got to keep all those embarrassing pictures somewhere people can’t use ‘em for blackmail.”

"Including me?"

Because at one point, he'd been his quarry. Quite fervent he'd been in his pursuit of him, in fact. It's not a point of ego to assume that Jesse had focused solely on him for some time, following his tracks and trailing him for months at a time, in the hopes of finally putting an end to him.

Thought quite obviously that trail had lead down paths neither of them could have foreseen.

Too late to rescind the password offer now, isn’t it?

“No embarrassin’ pictures, if that’s what you’re worried about.” He rubs the back of his neck, glancing sidelong down at the bag. “But yeah. Everythin’ I used to track you is on there.”

It had been a substantial amount of information. More than he’d gathered on just about any other creature, aside from Reaper, despite the majority of things being dead-ends or frustratingly vague. That Jesse had been consumed by that hunt is plain in the data he'd collected. And here he is, giving the keys to his little kingdom to that same vampire.

His gun, hat, serape, and laptop had been the only three things that consistently went anywhere with him, and the computer is by far the most valuable. Reyes would be spinning in his grave if he were actually in the ground.

He simply hums at the confirmation. What Jesse managed to acquire is a matter of some curiosity, but that's a lesser priority. Right now there's a choice to be made, for both of them. He can't make Jesse's decision for him, but...

It may mean things will change. This, the thing Jesse had insisted they embark upon, might be over already. Just when he'd given in to the idea of letting it come to fruition, to see what might lie at the end of that path.

He would never join Talon. Nor does Hanzo feel particularly inclined towards that choice. That means stepping in with these Overwatch sorts, or standing aside. That might seem safer, if he was not keenly aware of how bystanders tended to suffer when two powerful groups clashed. They're far from helpless, but it would put them in a much more vulnerable position.

With a noise of discontent, he takes a seat near to the laptop, but not reaching for it. Not just yet.

Jesse feels a stab of something both fond and exasperated. It’s like Hanzo doesn’t know the meaning of ‘rest.’ If he were human, he’d probably be one of those guys that brought his phone with him on vacation and answered emails by the pool.

It’s then, unexpectedly, that he’s struck with a sense of sadness for the life Hanzo could have had. If his clan hadn’t set this in motion. If he’d been born in a different time. Or maybe things would have ended up similarly anyway. It is surprisingly hard to imagine a Hanzo Shimada untouched by this pain, unburdened by duty. He’d not be the same man at all.

Jesse looks from the bag to Hanzo, and his hand rests on the man’s shoulder for just a moment. It’s a hesitant touch, only lingering for a second or two before he starts to walk away.

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I had NOT realized I had gone so long without a reply!! I still love this thread so here we go \o/

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