MURDERWORLD [mod plot] [Reunion/Rescue]

[letsgolegion]

Who| Everyone who wants in
What| The reunion/rescue of the folks in Murderworld
Where| The Temperate Zone
When| Day 3, at the very end of the arena
Warnings/Notes|

Thanks to the heroes that broke into Arcade's control room, the arena was officially over, and now that the Science Police and Legion had been contacted, people were being gathered up in an area in the temperate Zone and being extracted by portable threshold gates. A first aid station had been set up to triage those who needed immediate emergency care and patch up what injuries they could to hold people over until they got home.

Grief counselors were already on standby to help the Legionnaires and Harrubian dissidents and their families deal with the crisis they had just faced.

Arcade had already been taken away by the Science Police to face trial for multi-murder, and while some of the raw footage of the arena had already been uploaded to the UP internet, the Legionnaires had made the best of a bad situation.

The fact of the matter was every Legionnaire that had been kidnapped had survived. Arcade had been stopped. Almost all of Arcade's "Tributes" had been killed or detained by the Legionnaires and some of the Harubbian dissidents. The arena had ended on Day 3 instead of Day 30, which had saved dozens of lives. And the upload of the raw footage had been stopped mid-stream so that only a few people would have to deal with their ordeal becoming public knowledge.

Now it was time for friends and teammates to reunite and for everyone to head back to the safety of Legion World.

[ooc: Anyone can start a thread, regardless of whether they're a Legionnaire that was in the arena, or a Legionnaire outside the arena checking up on their friends.]

Comments

[mylawn]

The advantage to being mostly dead inside is that 76 isn't any more rattled by the events of a literal death arena than any of the other things he's fought through in his life. Between the robot uprising and the global peacekeeping force and the fall of said global peacekeeping force, it's hard to find something that will rattle him.

So here he is, mostly unrattled despite the experience. He refuses any medical care--both physical and psychological--and instead finds a place to dis-and-re-assemble his gun. It's methodical and almost meditative as he takes it apart and lines up each piece, checking and cleaning them one by one.

It's sort of been a long day.

[good_bamf_ugly]

Being indoctrinated in to this Legion business was a bit of a whirlwind but at least things weren't quiet even if McCree wasn't directly involved in a mission. He paid mind to the broadcasts, helpless as he was to actually do anything about it, and couldn't help but notice a couple of individuals catching his eye. He was willing to take his observations with a grain of salt on account of being so new and the very nature of Arcade's abilities, say nothing for the other Legionnaires's abilities.

That said, it would be nice to confirm in person.

A cowboy-shaped shadow casts itself over 76's methodical cleaning. A gun in pieces on the ground emboldens him to come close enough until the jingling spurs of his boots are on either side of the dismantled barrel, nudged a quarter of an inch with little regard other than with a pleased smile.

He tips his hat. "Well ain't that a familiar face."

[mylawn]

The whole ‘death arena’ thing has sort of put a damper on being able to check Legion’s network—if Arcade had given them that reprieve, perhaps 76 would know that McCree is here. As it stands, however, he’s mostly in the dark, so that familiar drawl is all at once alarming. He freezes in place, suddenly wishing his gun wasn’t in pieces in front of him.

Does he know? Who has he encountered so far? 76 expects Reinhardt and Ana to out him immediately—they’re not exactly fans of the whole ‘mysterious vigilante’ thing, but he imagines that if it were the case, McCree might be a little more surprised. He’s not quite sure how to approach this.

So he stands, to start, his body language more than a little hostile and his hand overing at the sidearm on his hip. He hasn’t forgotten that McCree ran off with potentially vital information regarding Gabriel’s uprising.

“Jesse McCree.”

HIs voice is cold. It’s not out of the question that they’d recognize each other from wanted posters. Starting with just his name seems like a good way to test the waters.

[good_bamf_ugly]

Well his reputation does proceed himself, or so it seems. Normally McCree might question it outside the realm of his only known Earth but he knows this guy is coming from said Earth. It's no more unusual than McCree recognizing him.

"Legion has a funny way of picking certain folks, doesn't it." By contrast, the cowboy's voice is warm and friendly, but with a touch of an underlying threat. He's plainly aware the dismantled gun on the ground won't keep him safe from that sidearm 76 is hovering over.

[mylawn]

This isn't exactly the reaction that 76 expected--though if Reinhardt did tell him, McCree's had some time to come to terms with it by now. He doesn't want to be the first one to breach the subject, but it's difficult when he has no idea whether or not they're on the same page.

There's threat in his voice, however, which means that 76 will approach the situation accordingly.

"Take it up with management if you've got a problem."

His hand doesn't move from the gun at his hip.

"I ain't the worst person they've dragged into this."

[good_bamf_ugly]

"So I've noticed." He drawls and shifts his weight to his other hip while exhaling smoke.

"Can't help but wonder if you're still fixin' to do whatever you were while you were on Earth." Wouldn't make much sense seeing as how they weren't even on Earth anymore, but that didn't mean business didn't follow. McCree was here, after all. So was that Reaper guy.

"Why the vested interest in Overwatch's old history? And Los Muertos? LumériCo? Can't think of a thing they all have in common except for you stickin' your nose in their business."

[mylawn]

It occurs to him at once--Jesse doesn't know. 76 isn't sure whether he should be relieved or not, but this puts him a position where he can break the news himself, instead of waiting for McCree to find out from Reinhardt, Ana, or worse, Gabriel. Loath as he is to give up the charade, he already knows there isn't a point, and at the very least he can now confess on his own terms.

"You've got no idea, do you?"

There's sudden disbelief in his voice as he drops his hands to his side, all at once a little bit exasperated.

"Reinhardt didn't say anything?"

[good_bamf_ugly]

There's a pause. A very long pause as McCree narrows his eyes. There's a lot of questions now.

"...I think I'd know if a literal walking wall of muscle and beard was in the vicinity." So, no, didn't catch whatever Reinhardt would have said.

Better question, "Who in the hell are you?"

[mylawn]

Maybe McCree hasn't been here all that long--hasn't had a chance to run into the others yet. Better for him, he guesses. 76 still doesn't want to come clean, but he'll take the chance to do it on his own terms.

He doesn't say anything, just bends a little to bring both his hands up to either side of his mask. The glow of the visor fades as it detaches, and he lets it fall to his side before he looks up. It's been a few years, and he certainly isn't the man he once was, but McCree will know.

[good_bamf_ugly]

fuck you, you old mother fucker i thought you were dead

half your hair definitely died

you look like shit

[good_bamf_ugly]

It takes some squinting and it's clear in McCree's widening brown eyes when the realization hits. He tips the underside of his hat up just to make sure he's taking it all in. He doesn't want to believe his eyes but they're certainly not deceiving him.

Maybe. He should probably double check that.

He closes the distance and mutters his name first and foremost, like it's a secret to keep. "...Jack?"

[mylawn]

76 lets the realization happen, waiting patiently and keeping the mask off the whole time. He'll give McCree as long as he needs, though it doesn't seem like it takes more than a moment or two. He tries not to flinch when Jesse closes the distance, fighting down the urge to take two steps away for every step he takes forward.

"What's left of him."

To his credit, he stays where he is, letting McCree get a good look, waiting for the shock to give way to anger. He can't say he doesn't deserve it--but he has some questions for Jesse, too.

[good_bamf_ugly]

McCree's not shy about letting the emotions play out on his face, like he's just taken down a mask for both of them; his brow twists with confusion and his nose scrunches up between disbelief and disgust. The shock eventually gives way to anger than then something a little less identifiable, maybe something like disappointment.

It's not enough to spare 76 from McCree from wanting to make absolutely sure whatever is left of Jack is still physically there.

He's getting a quick little punch in the forehead.

[mylawn]

He supposes that, if he really wanted to, he could easily dodge the blow--with all of his augmentations came enhanced reflexes, after all. Avoiding the punch doesn't even take any thought. It's standing there and taking it that requires conscious effort.

Not that it really hurts. 76 staggers back a few steps anyway, blinking away the stars and rubbing a hand across his forehead.

"Guess I deserved that."

He otherwise doesn't seem to be very apologetic.

[good_bamf_ugly]

He expected a dodge or even for a hand to whip up and clamp around his wrist, then pull it tight like he was to reprimand a misbehaving child; a stray dog and a hooligan, like he started out as. Getting the punch off is however entirely satisfying. It makes his knuckles sting with pain and gives solidarity to the phantom of a man standing before him.

"Guess you did." Now McCree isn't sure how to feel. He took that tap willingly. "Guess I shouldn't be surprised." Oddly, he's not. Not at this.

"You're supposed to be dead." Like he didn't know. "What in the hell happened to you?"

[mylawn]

Though the more logical part of him insists that there would have been nothing to be done even with advance knowledge of Gabriel's mutiny plans, the part of him that still believes he could have fixed things has some complicated feelings about Jesse McCree. The fact that he ran off with potentially vital information has always weighed heavy on him, to the point where he's not sure how guilty he should feel about faking his own death when McCree might have been able to prevent it in the first place.

"Takes more than something like that to kill me."

Even if it very nearly had--even if he still maintains that some vital part of him did die. McCree will realize that soon enough, he thinks.

[good_bamf_ugly]

He frowns. No, it didn't kill Jack Morrison, but...

"Overwatch died that day." Definitively.

"Felt it comin'." He admits softly, like some secret he kept buried in his heart all these years despite making it blatantly obvious he felt the creeping dread of the organization's death on the horizon and wasn't about to stick around to be swallowed whole by it. For whatever that was worth.

[mylawn]

"You left."

If McCree thought that 76 forgot about that, he'd be sorely mistaken. It's easy enough for that particular detail to fall by the wayside when he's consumed with every other aspect of his mission, but face-to-face with Jesse again, it's hard not to think about.

"What did you know that I didn't?"

[good_bamf_ugly]

It's hard for McCree to parse out if there's any accusatory tone in Jack's voice, or if that's Soldier 76 speaking under the guise of a mission. It's likely to be a sore subject so McCree treads carefully, voice soft and sentences formed with care.

"Didn't know... that would happen." Something short of a nuclear meltdown of Overwatch with Jack and Reyes on opposite sides.

I knew there were years worth of resentment behind what he did." Maybe Jack didn't see it for whatever reasons--the constant and looming press, all the red tape, balancing the public image. All that external garbage Jack had to manage which kept his eyes off what was going on internally. McCree saw that, but too little too late to do a damn thing about it.

"There was... talk about settling it." He admits. "Coup kinds of talk. I didn't want any part of it."

[mylawn]

"So you ran. You didn't think to tell me."

Not that he thinks McCree would ever want to be under witness protection, which would have been the logical progression of events. McCree likely knew that; knew he'd have to testify against Gabriel and perhaps didn't want to out of loyalty to the man he used to be. But 76 imagines that Jack wouldn't have been angry if the situation was explained to him. Could have anticipated the mutiny a little better if someone on the inside had alerted him to how wrong things really were.

It's all easier to say in hindsight, however, as loath as he is to admit it. 76 still thinks that he could have prevented the disaster that Overwatch became, even if that meant taking the fall to save others the grief. He knows now that it wasn't just Blackwatch--it was Talon, too, and maybe even the UN, so McCree is right. Admitting that is hard.

"I would've got you out of there."

[good_bamf_ugly]

He tips his hat to hide his eyes. It's questionable if it's a shame-filled gesture because what is plainly visible is the grit of teeth forcing a bitter-sweet smirk.

"Don't kid yourself. An ex-gang member like me? I'd be the first loose end to get rid of that no one would miss. That's a fool's errand." It's not like McCree didn't think about being a whistle blower. It's not like he didn't think about every option available to him. The problem was all of them sucked. There was no winning with that.

"Overwatch was a sinking ship. If it wasn't that... woulda' been something else." He thinks 76 already has (or had, prior to being called into this Legion business) an inkling of that, if his mysterious crusade is any indication.

It's a heavy subject to think about and weighs as such on his heart as much as it does on his shoulders. It pulls the smirk right down.

[mylawn]

"I would've kept you safe."

Not in the way McCree wanted to be. More realistically, if he'd tried to blow the whistle on Blackwatch in anything but a perfectly calculated way, he would've brought Reyes' wrath right down on his head. It all could have been much, much worse, and Jack understands that running was probably the only thing he felt he could do. If it wasn't that...it would have been something else. The UN built them to fail, he knows that now.

Doesn't change the 'what ifs' he runs over and over in his head. It's easier to keep taking the blame when he can convince himself that there was something he could have done.

"Would've ended either way, but maybe not the way it did."

With a body count.

[good_bamf_ugly]

Even if McCree didn't like the way Blackwatch was going, there was no question any whistle blowing on his part would have been betraying the closest thing to a family he'd since come to know. Deadlock was a den of thieves with little honor among them, and when presented with options, few and shitty that they were, he had to turn his back on them too. Turning his back on Overwatch meant a lot more, however.

"If you don't mind me asking, what happened that day?" The climactic showdown that McCree didn't stick around to see. He's vaguely asking what happened to you, but he wouldn't expect a straight answer even if it asked it straight.

[mylawn]

He arches an eyebrow to indicate that he doesn't appreciate being asked a question like that, but he supposes he owes McCree an answer.

"Don't remember much."

Not of the actual fight and resulting carnage. He attributes that to trauma. Most of the aftermath is intact, however--pulling himself out of the wreckage and feeling more like a wounded animal than a person. Feeling that the only thing he could do is get out and get away, try to process just how things managed to get to this point.

And then, when the dust cleared, he realized that maybe the world didn't need him after all. He remembers watching his memorial service on television.

"Once I realized what happened, seemed better to stay dead. Let everyone get on with their lives."

[good_bamf_ugly]

"Well you sure did a damn good job convincing everybody." McCree spits with more spite than he expected, and he knows he's certainly not one to talk. Seeing Overwatch fall in a flaming wreck was painful enough, seeing empty coffins of people he considered family was enough to convince him he had only one choice to make, and that there was no going back from it.

But then this asshole showed up, a literal ghost of the past. McCree supposes the twisting knot of grief in his gut never completely went away, especially the longer he spent time alone and the only company he had to keep were memories and ghosts, but maybe another part of him was never completely willing to think it was completely over. The Recall certainly proved that right at the very least.

"Now everyone's gettin' on with their lives." This seems like an opportune time--or maybe an opportune need--for a cigar and he pulls one out of an unseen chest pocket.

Despite his tone, he's able to find a twisted humor in it all and ho-hums as he lights up. "Funny how that works out, mm?"