COLLAB EPILOGUE BETWEEN @CrunchyCHEEZIT AND @BarrenThin
--|| SOLDIER: 76 and MCCREE || --
EPILOGUE
"We're All Heroes Now"
After one last look at the scenery, it seemed like their time in this multiverse nonsense had come to a close, noticing that others were beginning to withdraw through the portals. Giving a sigh of relief, Jack lifted up his pulse rifle and began walking towards the portal that led back to his universe, as well as his comrades.
"McCree, lets move."
He paused and eyed Symmetra, grumbling.
"..and you can follow behind whenever your done, Vishkar agent."
The cowboy gave one last, lingering look at the group present. He gave Symmetra a wary glance, before nodding.
"On it, boss. Let's go." He followed shortly after him.
The two men would give the room one last look over, before they finally looked at each other, and then the portal. A deep breath would most likely escape both of the heroes as they took the step forward into the gateway. A bright flash filled their eyes, and everything around them simply became white.
As for the others...Soldier: 76 and McCree simply vanished.
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The white flash seemed to linger in their eyes for a few minutes, the nauseous feeling of suddenly being somewhere else too control. But, after everything seemed to form together, the two would find themselves standing on solid ground, the familiar grey color coming into vision.
The blistering underground heat, but the cold atmosphere; the underground Talon base of Shaitans Throne, in the exact same place where they had vanished. 76 would shake his head and suddenly look around, holding his pulse rifle at the ready as he expected Reyes to pop out of nowhere, guns blazing....
....however, no one came. The hulking cyberdemon from before had vanished, Reyes was nowhere to be found, and the sinister voice from the beginning had ceased to speak.
In fact, the entire facility seemed empty.
With a wary frown, the now hatless McCree studied their surroundings. No sign of Reaper. No sign of the demon. He wasn't sure whether to be relieved or put on edge by this.
"Careful, Jack. Ain't got a damn clue what to expect from these bastards... Hey, what's that?"
The cowboy's eyes narrowed at something in the floor across the room. A few things, actually. Scorch marks. He was no scientist, but they seemed to be from an electric charge. There was a banana peel on the ground. Furthermore, he smelled something.
"Hey, boss... These remind you of anyone? And that smells like that perfume Lena always wore! Think they were here?" He scooped up the banana peel and examined it, his mind casting to Winston, that lovable gorilla.
"The hell are you..."
76 would pause, looking down at the ground, almost stepping on the banana peel. Taking a step back, he stared down at the bright-yellow peel. His mind raced for a few, brief moments, as he noted the scorch marks littering the floors and walls.
"...The goddamn monke--"
76 paused and eyed McCree.
"How the hell do you know what Lena's perfume smells like?"
The cowboy always had a near flawless poker face. So when his cheeks, if only for an instant, turned bright red, it was pretty clear something was up. His expression became blank shortly thereafter. McCree fiddled with a hat that wasn't there and stood up.
"You learn a lot about a person on the front lines, and I have a good memory." That was that, as bullshit as the line was.
"Think they beat Reaper and the demon back?"
Soldier: 76 would eye the cowboy for a couple seconds, squinting at him before shaking his head and looking around. Truth is, the notion that Tracer and Winston managed to decimate the entire base seemed...well, hard to believe. The two acted like children around each other, so it came as a surprise that they managed to take out the operation.
"There was that incident in the museum...ah, hell, I don't know. Lets get the hell outta here."
With that, the old man dragged his cowboy comrade to the elevator with a grumble. The rickety old device protested for a minute, before elevating the two men up to a higher level. The heat spilling through the bright light reminded them of where they were; the Tomb of Kings, widely regarded as a shithole by many.
However, when the two of them rose to the surface and got a good look at the place...their dreams of Overwatch coming to save the day came true; crowds of men, women and children walked along the marketplace, hustling and bustling through the sandy city, but with a tinge of happiness. The bleached rooftops were clear of any armed guards, and the black helicopters that once circled the skies above the city like hungry vultures vanished. People were happy to walk the streets...and as far as the two men were concerned, this place was liberated.
"So they did do it..." 76 muttered, his voice a mixture of awe, happiness, and a tinge of regret.
"...shouldn't of doubted those two, hmph.." he grumbled under his breath, as he gazed towards the walls; the Overwatch symbol spray-painted everywhere, words of kindness and respect surrounding them. What was once a symbol of defiance against the world seemed to become a staple in the city...
"Overwatch lives."
When McCree stepped out, it was worlds apart from what he anticipated. He felt the weight of exhaustion mixed in with a rush of pride as he looked at the logos and those two words:
'Overwatch lives.'
He stepped forward without a word, his hand resting on one of the logos. The cowboy had been a firm believer for a while now that heroes were real, despite everything that had happened with Overwatch's first run of it. His gaze shifted to the people finally moving through the streets unmolested, and his stunned stare turned into a stupid grin. He ran out into the street, looking at every logo, every smiling face, every laughing child... And he felt hope swell in his chest. From where he stood in the street, he turned to the old man, grinning like and idiot.
"Overwatch lives."
Soldier: 76 himself eyed the logos with a faceless expression, as if he couldn't understand what this meant. Rather, he completely understood, but a part of him didn't want to. The symbolic insignia of Overwatch was like an eye, glaring at its former leader, expecting something from him.
But, he had nothing to offer.
The old man would shake his head and walk forward, stopping McCree in his spree of wanton joy
"Keep your shirt on, cowboy." he grumbled to him, still without his mask. The effect wasn't as intimidating with the visor off.
The two men would wade through a crowd of civilians, and some of them even had fans. A couple folks took pause and eyed the two heroes with confusion, as if they just witnessed two ghosts cross their path. Some children hopped up and down with excitement and squealed as McCree and Soldier: 76 shoved past, the two men who were hear not long ago. As much as the cowboy wanted to embrace this heroic fame with an open heart, the soldier kept him tethered like a fussy child. He kept his head down and shadowed his face, preventing anyone from seeing it.
They eventually made their way to the dusty alleyway where a crusty old jeep lay; the one that 76 may or may not have stolen...still parked here, after all that time? As the soldier walked past, McCree would notice some crude chalk drawings surrounding him on the walls of the alleyway. Crude stick figures, seemingly drawn by children, that seemed to speak words to the cowboy.
One figure was wearing something on its chest, with spiky hair and two guns. It seemed to have a smile on its face.
Another of a hunched-over figure, like a gorilla, with big goofy glasses and a jetpack.
One of a figure with a cowboy hat, holding a large gun and drawn with a cheeky smile on its face.
And, lastly, a tall figure with a large rifle, and a big visor on its head. This figure was, admittedly, drawn with an angry frown despite seemingly wearing a mask.
Soldier: 76 was still checking his jeep, making sure that everything was still working, he turned to McCree...who, by now, may have been gawking at the figures.
"You done yet?"
The cowboy's hand traced the drawings as it had the Overwatch logo. He tilted his head back in a laugh full of joyful warmth, Jack's gruff words not putting a dent in his newfound, ironclad good mood. For the cowboy, a lot of things mattered in this life. For him, first and foremost, it was those in his charge. Those who he felt responsible to help, even if they didn't know he was watching out for them. A big part of being able to do that was the hope and trust of the people. Something Overwatch had once lost. Something it would have to earn back. He looked at the drawings for a moment more before speaking.
"Winston is really serious about bringing Overwatch back, huh? Heh... Damn monkey never did know when to quit. Even got ahold of Lena."
He turned to Jack, his hat hair messy and unkempt, though his rejuvenated cheekiness was untouched as he smirked at the older man.
"I think I'm gonna find 'em. Give 'em a hand. Missed the monkey. Thing is, ain't one of the three of us exactly leaders of men. We could use your ugly mug around. I'm sure they'd be goddamn through the roof to know you're still alive." He pointed back into the streets. For all they knew, the duo was still in town.
76 didn't move as he listened to his comrade speak, seemingly ignoring the cowboy as he checked his 'escape' vehicle. Giving a sigh of relief, he opened the door of the jeep and tossed his rifle inside, watching it clatter on the seat. Dusting his hands off and stretching, he paused his motion as McCree mentioned finding Tracer and Winston, and bringing 76 along yet.
The old man would visibly droop, letting out a heavy sigh and turning around to look at his old, old friend.
"No."
McCree's smile turned into a confused frown. He stepped over and looked Jack in the eye.
"And just why the Hell not? Don't give me any of that 'I ain't a hero anymore' horseshit! Just look around! Look at this! Some kid drew this of you. Those people out there wanted to thank you! And then, don't tell me you couldn't see the difference you made for those kids in Rapture."
"This world needs us. It needs you, Jack."
The old man stared Jesse right back, his face growing more remorseful as he spoke. After a moment of thinking, he eyed the ground in silent remorse...before eyeing McCree for one last time.
"...The world isn't ready, don't you get it? As far as everyone else in the world knows, I'm still dead. This is just one city, Jesse, one instance of the people wanting us back. The world is bigger than one little city...and we're still outlaws. What the hell do you think will happen if I showed my face and tried to reform Overwatch, huh?"
"What will Talon do?"
"What will Reyes do?"
His face grew angry as he mentioned that name. The godforsaken name that brought everyone and everything to its knees. The old soldier took pause...before he walked over and would rest a hand on the cowboys shoulder. He seemed to smile slightly, speaking in the same soft, sincere voice of Jack Morrison that spoke to the Preacher.
"But, this isn't just about me, now is it? Your right about one thing, Jesse; the world needs you...and everyone else. Everything Winston said in the video, he was right."
"...I learned alot of things in Rapture, things that...in all of my years of service, I never even realized. But, the one thing that I'll keep from that hell of a city, is tonever jump the gun."
Jack would point forward.
"So, go."
"Go find Lena."
"Go find Winston."
"Reinhardt, Torbjorn, Dr. Ziegler, Genji, everyone."
"But as far as your concerned? I'm still dead, and that is how it will be."
"...for now."
The old man smirked and chuckled, a hopeful air surrounding the two, visions of the future flashing through his head. Visions of a better future, visions of a future that he will foster.
"I built Overwatch on the foundation of building a better future. That is what we did in Rapture...together. We built a better future in that city, freed it from the clutches of tyranny...and, well, we saved the day. Those were a golden days...and as long as I am still kicking on this Earth, I swear, I'll avenge them."
Jack would take a step back, reaching down and grabbing his visor. The small mask would attach, shadowing his face, as he became Soldier: 76 once more.
"But, for now, I'm just a soldier. And I have a war to finish...and you have some people to find."
A simple turn, and the old man would vanish in the shadows of the alleyway, towards his jeep.
The cowboy listened to Jack, at first, with confusion, just as before. This steadily turned unto understanding, though. The world wasn't ready. Some people still thought of them as nothing but criminals. In his excitement, he hadn't considered the fact that this place might be alone in celebrating them. To win back their trust, the process would have to be gradual. Coming back too big could hurt them more than it helped. He nodded after Soldier finished, then rocked back on his heels.
When Jack went into the alley, he was still silent for a little while longer before finally speaking. He called after him.
"Hey, Jack?"
"For a dead man, you're lookin' good."
Jokes aside, he continued.
"Stay safe, boss. I have every intention of seein' your ugly mug a whole lot more down the road."
He waved briefly, then turned his own way, making his way back to the train station. All the while, without Jack to rein him in, he shook hands.
Said hello.
Where he'd have to go on the way to find Winston and Tracer? No telling.
Meantime, he couldn't wipe the huge grin off his face...
The shadows didn't respond to McCree as he made his last statement to his old leader. But, even if he couldn't get the answer, Jack smirked underneath his visor, watching as the gunslinger turned and strides off, familiar sands underneath his feet and a beating heart of justice in his core.
From all the mistakes Morrison made in his days, after everything that had happened, both in Rapture, and the Tomb of Kings; the one thing that he will always considering his greatest success is letting McCree go. There wouldn't be anyone to wake him up from his vengeful dream if McCree was rotting in maximum security prison, after all.
The door of the vehicle shut with a metal slam, and the engine creaked to life. The wheel turns, and the old soldier departed the city, his eyes
The sun-bleached, dusty brick towers of the city slowly faded away into pale shadows on the horizon, as the two souls rode away on their next destination, wherever that takes them. Whether it be by the roaring train of justice, or by a rumbling jeep carrying the old days on its back. Even after that speech, though, there was still the lingering feeling.
The feeling of everything being so...
small.
Things seemed to have changed forever after this incident; a discovery of worlds beyond their own, universes and strange characters swirling in the vast, cruel multiverse, born in murder and deceit.
Now, the wheels of conflict awaken deep in the insidious pits of this multiverse, brother and brother turning to one another in fear and suspicion. The claws of despair rake the innocent, creeping from under their feet with lies and treachery. For everyone else, the future only grows darker with every passing second.
But, let it be known that in this specific corner of the dark multiverse, a seed of hope was planted, influenced by the horrors of an underwater city. This world, a small, insignificant, puny, minuscule variation of Earth that exists among a countless number of worlds, universes and realities that brew in the multiverse.
Hope would rise form the grave. The ghosts of the past have become reality, and these few, dedicated individuals will join the threads to weave a better world.
This is just the beginning, and even if the mask of death approaches and the claws of hell knock on its door, let these words sing throughout the whole world, to every soul seeking purpose, and every hero looking to make a change;
OVERWATCH LIVES
- The End -
