Chapter Text
“I—”
“No,” half a dozen voices said immediately. Genji stopped, surprised.
It was Angela that answered. “You cannot participate as it would not give us an accurate understanding of how he works,” she explained patiently and the horns on either side of Genji’s helm that sometimes emulated ears twitched downward.
McCree glanced at Hanzo whose own ears were twisted back, clearly uncomfortable. He pretended not to listen and to not notice McCree watching him in interest. Sneering, McCree fought the urge to spit.
Flicking his tail dismissively, Hanzo lifted a leg to the nearby bench. “Need some help?” Brigitte asked helpfully. “Or rather…would you like some? I’m pretty good at armoring up.”
McCree watched Hanzo, honestly curious what gear that he would be putting on and hating himself for it. Much to his surprise Hanzo agreed to let Brigitte help him, explaining in a quiet voice—that McCree could listen in on if he really wanted to but tried not to—each item in the gear bag he carried and how they were attached.
Under Hanzo’s careful instructions, Brigitte carefully wrapped Hanzo’s legs in a thin binding. Then she fastened what looked like another set of leg wraps, this one covered in thin metal plating like armor. She eased his hooves into a set of armored shoes that brought back unpleasant memories of fighting war centaurs with their barbed hooves.
“Those are new,” Genji commented, sounding petulant. McCree caught himself mentally chastising Genji— were you expecting Hanzo to have given you detailed specs of every piece of his gear? —and tried not to growl, not when Brigitte was so close to Hanzo’s hooves. She might get hurt if he startled Hanzo.
Brigitte pulled the gear bag away from him when Genji reached for it. “Did you ask ?”
Now that Brigitte had pointed it out, McCree noticed that Hanzo had tensed, his ears twisted backward in displeasure. Despite himself he could sympathize. It would feel just plain wrong for anyone to handle his gear and the healthy sense of paranoia ground into him by Reyes in Blackwatch didn’t help.
Your gear was your own and what sets you apart. If someone tampered with it—or worse in some cases, copied it—then you were dead or out of a job.
Sometimes both.
McCree ground the cigar in his teeth until it shredded. He didn’t like the reminder that they were so similar.
“I wasn’t aware that I needed to,” Genji replied.
Winston cleared his throat. “How much time do you need, Brigitte?” he asked, pointedly stopping the conversation before it could escalate.
“I’m nearly done with his hooves,” Brigitte pointed out. “I don’t know what else Hanzo would like help with. And I’m nearly done armoring up, myself.”
Her father huffed. “Ye’ll let me check the straps though.”
It wasn’t a question and Brigitte rolled her eyes. She looked up at Hanzo. “Do you mind being on a team with me, morbror ?”
Hanzo’s ears twitched, one of them swiveling toward her. He looked in the direction of her gear: her shield, her mace-flail-thing, and the remaining pieces of her armor. “I’d be delighted,” he said dryly, sounding anything but. Then he added, “ systerdotter .”
“When did you get these?” Genji asked. It was strange to see him as impatient as he had been in Blackwatch; by the time of the Havana incident, he had mellowed down somewhat, enough that it almost felt like another person had been in that suit. Now he was just as prickly as before and McCree wondered if it had anything to do with Hanzo’s presence and the reminder of what he had lost.
McCree pulled his cigar out of his mouth and eyed the butt of it. It was thoroughly destroyed and grumbling he threw it away, spitting out chunks of wrapper and tobacco that had gotten caught in his teeth after grinding them for so long.
Angela and Lena made disgusted noises and he glared at them before checking his own gear.
“There,” Brigitte said, standing and stepping away from Hanzo. “How does that feel?”
McCree watched in interest as Hanzo shifted, stretching each leg with a level of flexibility that he had not expected to see in a centaur. “It feels much better than when I have done it myself.”
Brigitte offered him a fist and Hanzo looked momentarily confused at the gesture before tapping it with his. “If you ever need help with your gear, just let me know,” she said. “Is that all? Or do you have something else?”
Glancing at Winston, McCree found him fiddling with the controls for the exercise chamber. A part of him wanted to be annoyed—didn’t the big guy know that gearing up for a real-world sim took time? —but forced himself to hold his tongue. After all, Winston had been more or less alone (occasional visits from Lena and the omnipresence of Athena aside). He knew that part of his irritation was that he now had to take into account the timing of others, not only himself.
McCree was the same way, still trying to get used to working with and around others.
Turning back, he found that Brigitte was helping Hanzo into a complicated-looking harness loaded with supply pouches around his upper hips and withers. The buckles all appeared to be within reach of Hanzo if he was to twist around but no doubt it was easier with assistance and would fit more comfortably.
Not for the first time, McCree was glad that he wasn’t a centaur. But that wasn’t fair—centaurs were herd animals and McCree had ever been raised as an independent soul. He hadn’t been raised to that lifestyle of needing assistance with hooves and hindquarters and climbing up and down stairs.
Perhaps to Hanzo, this was normal—albeit with new people around him.
He watched Hanzo carefully. Brigitte was a good girl—and in his mind would always be the little blond-haired girl running around with her big fluffy cat—and she didn’t deserve being taken advantage of by a kin-killer like Hanzo.
(That she could take care of herself didn’t even cross his mind.)
But Hanzo thanked her respectfully and prepared his weapon of choice—a mean-looking bow. McCree was about to mock him for it—maybe make a comment about anachronisms—but he caught Angela’s eye and swallowed his words.
By the time Torbjörn was satisfied with the way that Brigitte had armored up, everyone else appeared to be ready.
“Everyone settled?” Winston asked archly, frowning at them all. “We can begin the simulation. Teams, to your starting positions.”
Brigitte lifted her mace-thing like a student raising their hand to ask a question. When Winston scowled at her, she frowned. “How does this work? Hanzo and I have never been in a simulation like this before.” She glanced at Hanzo. “Or I haven’t been in a simulation like this and Hanzo hasn’t been in this particular one.”
Before Winston could answer, Lena said, “It’s not that complicated…think laser tag, but bigger.”
Hanzo lifted his bow. “This is a live weapon,” he pointed out. “Which I was told to bring, with live ammunition. I assume that you want your operatives to remain alive for this exercise?”
McCree sneered and opened his mouth to respond to the challenge but Angela beat him to it. “Athena will be monitoring your progress,” she said and gestured to the exercise space. “This particular field is relatively new technology, something that Athena and Winston must have developed recently.” There was a hint of a rebuke and Winston looked away, fiddling with the controls. “If you look at the tiles, they are not sealed: this allows each of them to rise or fall independently to create all manner of obstacles.”
The tiles rose—slowly, much slower than McCree knew they were capable of, having tested the sim with Winston shortly after his arrival—to make a single wall in front of them. Brigitte and Hanzo took a few steps forward to look closer. At Angela’s nod, Hanzo put his hand on it and tested the wall.
“They’re strong,” Angela assured him. “Or they would be if they were maintained?”
Winston scowled. “They are well-maintained,” he said grumpily. “They can withstand a lot of force.”
“How much?” Hanzo wanted to know.
“ A lot of force ,” Winston told him, scowl deepening.
Lena snorted. “Hard enough to contain your temper?”
“Of course.”
Hanzo nodded. “And the live weaponry?”
Kneeling, Angela pointed to the seams of the tiles. “Each of these allows for a small forcefield. With Athena monitoring your progress, she will be able to stop projectiles from connecting while making an assessment of damage caused.”
“Let’s see,” Brigitte said excitedly, lifting her shield. It activated with a flick of her wrist and she moved on the tiles to stand in front of the wall. “Ready, morbror ?”
Hanzo snorted and in a motion that was almost too fast to track—an impressive feat for a weapon like a bow—Hanzo nocked an arrow, drew it, and fired.
The arrow halted just in front of Brigitte’s shield and McCree noted that he had aimed for the space next to Brigitte’s ear—if nothing had stopped the arrow, it would have passed harmlessly by. Unless of course it ricocheted off the wall behind her. McCree tried not to think about that.
Above and around them, Athena said, “ Hit to Agent Brigitte’s shield with 10% damage. Shield integrity now at 90% .”
Winston made an annoyed sound. “There are comms that we will give you,” he said. “I’m not sure how well they will fit you though, Hanzo. We can monitor communication through the central hub here,” here he gestured to the console in front of him and continued, “but this allows for the teams not to cheat through announcements made over the overhead speakers.”
He handed out the comm units and Brigitte frowned at it before tucking it in her ear and around her throat. “These definitely won’t fit Hanzo.”
“I have a headset in my bag that would fit me,” Hanzo said slowly as he looked at the earbud and throat microphone in his palm. “Is there a way to connect to that?”
Winston grunted. “Sure.” He accepted the comm back with ill grace and scowled at the comm set that Hanzo held out for inspection.
“Let me see that,” Torbjörn said gruffly and Hanzo bent his forelegs to give the piece of tech to Torbjörn. “Easy,” he said. “Athena, I’ll read off the specs to you. Can you connect?”
How the hell the engineer could know the specific model number of such an obscure piece of equipment, McCree would never know. Brigitte looked fascinated as well. “I’ve heard good things about those models,” she said excitedly. “For once a piece of shifter tech that actually works! Do you like it?”
“It’s one of the better models I’ve found,” Hanzo replied. “Expensive but worth it. Otherwise I would never be able to be connected to team discussions.”
McCree was about to ask a snide question when Torbjörn interrupted. “Here,” he said gruffly, standing on his toes to lift the comm over his head toward Hanzo. “That should work. Test with Athena, now.”
To McCree’s surprise, Hanzo allowed Brigitte to hold his bow for him while he fastened the comm system to his neck and head. Unlike comms for humans, it fastened around his brow—this allowed for the motion of his ears, which unlike humans, were able to move independently. McCree had always thought that those kinds of comms had the unfortunate appearance of a horse’s bridle.
Winston shifted impatiently while Hanzo tested communications with Athena.
Grinning, Brigitte gave him a thumbs-up. “Read you loud and clear, morbror .”
“Are you ready?” Winston asked impatiently.
Brigitte hefted her shield and settled it in its straps on her arms. “Ready?” she asked Hanzo. “Let’s get to our starting position. I have a few questions for you best asked out of earshot. Do you by chance speak Swedish?”
As they began walking away, McCree could hear Hanzo say, “If you speak slowly, I can usually follow along.” Brigitte began excitedly chattering away while Athena guided them down the range toward their starting area. A set of walls appeared to hide them from view.
Winston looked pointedly at McCree who laughed and nodded at Lena. “Let’s go.”
“Shouldn’t we tell them who the other team is?” Lena wondered as she followed.
“They wouldn’t know who their enemy is in real life,” McCree told her gruffly as he loaded Peacekeeper. “C’mon.”
The walls closed in around them as well, trapping them in their starting area. Beyond the walls, McCree could hear the tiles moving, creating a maze for the four of them to navigate.
Overhead Athena said, “ The rules of the match are as follows: Deathmatch Protocol .” McCree grinned to himself while Lena looked momentarily concerned. “ When it is announced that you are killed, you are to return to your starting area before being allowed out and the maze will be shifted. You will receive a warning before movement if you are in an area that will be shifting. ”
On the wall in front of them, a map appeared: for the moment, it consisted of three rectangles to represent each team’s staring area and the open area available for the sim. Two more rectangles appeared in white and blinked.
“ The highlighted areas represent safe areas where the opposing team will not be able to access to prevent cheating. ” The last seemed to be directed at McCree but he couldn’t be sure. He winked up at Athena’s cameras. “ No projectile will be able to travel through either side. ”
Over the comms, Brigitte laughed. “ No spawn camping? ”
“ No ,” Athena said, sounding sour. “ The first team to reach ten kills will win. Please confirm that you understand these rules. ”
One by one they sounded off as requested.
“ Confirmation received, ” Athena said primly. “ Winston, permission to start exercise? ”
“ Closing off comms now, ” Winston replied. “ Teams now on separate channels. Confirm .” They all confirmed, or so McCree gathered because a moment later Winston announced the start and the doors to their first team sim opened.
McCree looked at Tracer. “Let’s stick close,” he suggested. “One kick from Hanzo and you’re done.”
Tracer giggled. “He’d need to catch me first,” she teased but made sure to stick close.
They had only been released into the sim a few minutes before Athena announced in their ears: “ Agent McCree received a headshot; credit Agent Hanzo. Please proceed to starting point. Agent Tracer received a headshot; credit Agent Hanzo. Please proceed to starting point. Two points to Blue Team. The score is 2:0 in favor of the Blue Team. ”
Turning around, they found two arrows that had been stopped by the forcefields; nobody was behind them. Swearing, McCree stomped with ill grace back to the starting point.
As soon as they had entered the point, Athena announced, “ Reconfiguring maze, please wait. ” A few seconds later she said, “ You may return .”
“Stupid,” McCree growled. “Walking back and forth.”
This time they were much more careful, checking their corners as they moved around the maze. McCree heard a noise behind them and spun; a moment later he heard Tracer cry out. Spinning, he found Brigitte with her shield down and activated, her flail on its way to connect with his head.
He growled at Brigitte who winked at him when it froze mid-air, stopped by the barriers. “Agent McCree has been killed; credit Agent Brigitte,” Athena announced. “Please proceed to starting point. Agent Tracer has been killed; credit Agent Brigitte. Please proceed to starting point. Two points to Blue Team. Score is 4:0 in favor of the Blue Team.”
“Good job, Hanzo,” he heard Brigitte say as she began walking away. “We’re rockin’ it!”
McCree looked at Tracer who was gritting her teeth. Neither of them liked losing. “Time to split up,” he told her. “You’re fast, you can get around Brigitte’s shield bash.”
“She was pretty fast with that,” Tracer said with a hint of reluctant appreciation. “The bash and the flail were what did me in.”
McCree grunted in agreement. “I’d hate to see what she can do without those barriers,” he said.
“All the same, I’d appreciate seeing it when she’s on my team,” Tracer grumbled as they walked into their starting room and waited until the maze stopped shifting. “I’ll head off toward our right?”
“They get us again,” McCree promised darkly. “I’m goin’ wolf.”
Tracer gave him a concerned glance but shrugged. “Watch out for the hooves,” she advised and disappeared in a flash of blue.
Shaking his head, McCree began making his way carefully along the left-hand side of the maze. Now instead of equally-tall walls on all sides, there were other obstacles: half-walls, archways as if he walked down a village street all painted the same shade of gunmetal grey.
He caught sight of movement nearby just as he heard the rattle of Tracer’s guns. A moment later Athena said, “ Agent Brigitte has been killed; credit Agent Tracer. Please proceed to starting point. One point to Red Team. Score is 4:1 in favor of the Blue Team. ”
McCree fired and flinched, instinctively rolling away as an arrow was stopped by the force fields. He caught sight of Hanzo just as the centaur dodged out of the way; a moment later the arrow stopped in front of his face and McCree swore.
“ Agent McCree has been killed ,” Athena announced. “ Credit to Agent Hanzo. Proceed to starting point. One point to Blue Team. Score is 5:1 in favor of the Blue Team. ” Then, to McCree’s surprise, she said, “ Agent Hanzo has been injured. ”
Heartened (but only slightly), McCree began jogging back to the starting point. “Heard that?” he asked Tracer. “He was off on my side.”
Tracer laughed. “ On my way. ”
A moment later, Athena announced, “ Agent Hanzo has received health from Agent Brigitte .” McCree swore.
“ What is this? ” Tracer demanded. “ A fucking video game? ”
Athena made a noise over the loudspeaker. “ Why so salty? ”
Shaking his head at AIs that thought too highly of themselves, McCree waited in the starting point while the maze reconfigured.
“ Reconfiguring is creepy as shit ,” Tracer said flatly over the comms. “ Ohholyshit —”
As Tracer filled McCree’s comms with expletives, Athena announced, “ Agent Tracer has been killed; credit to Agent Hanzo .” Athena sounded inordinately smug. “ Proceed to starting point. One point to Blue Team. Score is 6:1 in favor of the Blue Team .”
Tracer said, “ That fucking wanker! How the fuck did he get up there?”
“Where?” McCree demanded as he began leaving the starting point.
“ He’s on the fucking walls! Look fucking up!”
McCree frowned. Look up ?
He turned a corner marked by an arrow and realized what she was talking about; he also received an arrow to the face for his troubles. Flicking his tail smugly, Hanzo leaped across the walkways like a fucking goat and galloped away.
“ Agent McCree has been killed; credit to Agent Hanzo .” Athena announced. “ Proceed to starting point. One point to Blue Team. Score is 7:1 in favor of the Blue Team .”
McCree snarled to himself as he jogged back. “Wolf’s coming out,” he growled to Tracer over the comms. “Standby.”
” Shit ,” she swore.
It produced its own kind of issues. While Tracer knew better than to assume that he would be a mindless beast, it did mean that if McCree shifted all the way, he wouldn’t be able to communicate with her.
Not to mention that he would need to leave his headset behind, given that he wasn’t wearing the special one that was developed for him in Blackwatch.
Once he arrived at the starting point, he immediately began stripping off his serape, weapons belt, chestplate. He stripped down and said into the comm, “Shifting now. Going deaf and dumb.”
Tracer swore and then said, “ Acknowledged, cowboy .”
A moment later Athena announced another kill in Tracer’s favor bringing the score up to 7:2—she had managed to sneak up on Brigitte again.
McCree grinned as his mouth filled with sharp teeth and his face pushed out into a snout. Soon he was fully transformed and stretching out each of his legs.
He charged out into the maze, trying to find a walkway long enough to build momentum to jump up. How the hell a fucking centaur of all things was able to do so was beyond McCree—and it made his hackles rise in annoyance.
Finding a hallway that he thought was long enough, he took a quick look around, craning his head to try and see if Hanzo was nearby. He didn’t seem to be so McCree charged at the next wall...
Just as Brigitte rounded the corner.
She slammed into his side with her shield, throwing him into the wall (McCree made a mental note to ask Athena where the hell her force fields were for that particular mess) and throwing off his jump. It meant that he only managed to get his upper body over the wall and instinctively he clung to it, digging his claws into the metal.
When he looked up, he found Hanzo standing right in front of him. The centaur grinned and released five shots in quick succession.
Fucking somehow .
Athena stopped these of course, and announced, “ Agent McCree has become a pincushion, ” instead of her usual report. McCree snarled at Hanzo, his ears pinned.
The centaur was frustratingly calm, trotting along the tops of the walls as if he were entirely used to it.
“ Agent McCree, please return to start ,” Athena said pointedly.
Fuck. That.
McCree scrambled up the wall and dodging the stopped arrows, charged at Hanzo. It was harder than he expected, having to focus on not falling between the walls. Multiple times.
He was nearly there, lunging at the oblivious centaur when suddenly Hanzo dropped down. Instead of lunging on Hanzo’s back he instead soared over him.
Suddenly the walls began to collapse on themselves, revealing Brigitte and Tracer. Brigitte’s flail was stopped by one of Athena’s force fields and turning, McCree found that the arrows that Hanzo would have shot into his unprotected chest and belly as he leaped had been stopped as well.
“ Winner goes to the Blue Team, ” Athena announced. “ Final score: 10:2 .”
Tracer was scowling at Brigitte before she turned and stomped off.
Looking back at Hanzo, McCree snarled, baring his teeth. The centaur didn’t seem bothered even though his horse parts must have been panicking. It irked McCree something fierce, nevermind that he was a poor loser to begin with.
McCree snarled again when Hanzo turned his back to him and trotted off to Brigitte, his tail held high. Proud.
Unafraid.
That bastard.
He was stopped by Lúcio skating excitedly over to the centaur, skidding to a stop in front of him. “Wow!” he exclaimed and McCree turned away in shame and frustration—which in turn made him even more frustrated.
How had Hanzo managed to get so deep under his skin? The centaur had barely been here a full two days and already McCree was losing control.
For a brief, terrifying moment he had considered leaping on Hanzo’s back for real this time, showing what a full werewolf could do against a centaur. He was a predator , damn it, and the centaur had knocked him down far too many pegs for him to be comfortable.
He shook himself from nose to tail and stalked away.
“Agent McCree.”
Turning, he eyed Hanzo and bared a tooth at him in frustration.
“I apologize for…” Hanzo hesitated briefly, as if reordering his thoughts. “I will not apologize for the manner in which our team won, because that was the point of the exercise,” he said slowly. “However I will apologize because I know that it was entirely unwelcome for a prey animal to beat a predator.”
McCree bared his teeth at Hanzo and turned, stalking away. Add salt to the wound.
“You deserved that,” Angela informed him, holding his clothes in her arms. Reinhardt held his gear beside her, grinning from ear to ear. “For cheating.”
He tossed his head and reluctantly forced himself to shift back, ignoring the scandalized yells of Lena, Hana, and Lúcio. Reinhard laughed, seemingly distracted by Hanzo’s approach.
“Well fought!” he cried. “I was not aware that centaurs could be quite so nimble!”
McCree angrily pulled his shirt over his head but perked up when Hanzo replied, “I learned that trick from a friend.”
“What sort of friend?” Genji asked, sounding sulky. “I was not aware that you had another Herd.”
For a long moment Hanzo didn’t say anything and as McCree jumped into his jeans, he glanced at the centaur who now looked much more somber.
“He was a friend,” Hanzo repeated, voice flat. “We lived with a herd of satyrs and goat shifters.”
Torbjörn stalked up right up to Hanzo’s front hooves and stopped, propping his fist on his hip while squinting up at Hanzo. “Ye and I are goin’ to set a date,” he announced. “In the workshop,” he added. “T’ go over yer kit.”
Behind Hanzo, Brigitte giggled. “And me as well,” she said. She glanced at the crowd around Hanzo and said something in what McCree assumed was Swedish. Whatever it was made Hanzo’s ears twitch.
“Ye-e-s,” Torbjörn said crisply, dragging out the sound as he looked down at Hanzo’s strange shoes. “That as well. And sooner rather than later.” He cut a glance to Winston. “Are ye done?”
Winston frowned. “I cannot make accurate predictions based on one set of data,” he said with a huff. “There are more tests and simulations to be run.”
“Well,” Lena said, still sounding a little sulky. None of them liked to lose, especially the Old Guard. It was the hero’s mentality that had been ground into them from the old Overwatch. If they failed, who would finish the job? Who would save the world?
The whole lot of them had hero complexes, it was ridiculous.
Not that McCree was immune to such thoughts, himself. It didn’t make it any easier to swallow the painful pill of knowing that he had been bested so thoroughly. The predator in him was particularly upset that it was by a prey animal , too.
Winston scowled at her but Lena seemed immune to his frustration. “You have a lot of data already,” she pointed out. “You know that you have a sniper that can climb walls and Brigitte was a good support for him.”
“It was fun,” Brigitte agreed. “But if you want Hanzo to recreate that, you’re going to need to put it on hold. There are other preparations that need to take place before we can begin again.”
Angela frowned. “How so?” she asked.
For a moment, nobody said anything. Hanzo shifted on his hooves and McCree looked down at them, eyeing the strange bracers on his thin legs and the strange attachments of his hooves. He saw it at the same time Angela did, it seemed, because she said “ah”.
“I don’t get it,” Lena said impatiently.
Clearly uncomfortable, Hanzo shifted on his front hooves. “There needs to be upgrades to his armor and kit,” Torbjörn said gruffly. “His shoes aren’t fit properly an’ I saw him slipping on them a few times. If ye want to kill him, then make him go on.”
The shorter man stared defiantly up at Winston who scowled and looked away. “How long will you need?”
“Two days,” Torbjörn said immediately. “At least.”
“Very well,” Winston agreed after a heavy sigh. “I will take the time to come up with a new scenario to better test his skills.”
McCree looked up at Hanzo. His face was blank, his ears twisted backwards in displeasure. It happens, he supposed, when someone spoke for you as if you weren’t there.
“Alright,” Brigitte said, slinging her shield over her back. She craned her head to look up at Hanzo with a bright grin. “You ready, morbror ?”
Hanzo nodded wordlessly and walked out with her. He was craning his head down attentively as she chattered away at him in happy Swedish. Looking for Genji, McCree found that he was no longer there.
“That person I saw in the sim,” Genji said slowly when McCree climbed up to his solitary perch. “He did not feel like my brother. It was like somebody else was in his body.”
McCree grunted and sat down next to him, his legs falling over the edge. “Who did it feel like?” he wanted to know.
For a long moment, Genji didn’t answer, staring out over the sea. “I don’t know,” he said at last, sounding lost. “I had seen him fight like that in Hanamura when I went to recruit him. But at the same time, seeing it up close...it feels so surreal.”
“How did he used to fight?”
Genji shrugged. “With naginata . He didn’t like the sword.”
Not quite sure what a naginata exactly was, McCree just nodded, making a mental note to look it up later.
“And he hates people looking at his hooves,” Genji added.
Craning his head, McCree realized that Genji could see into the workshop. The garage doors were open against the summer heat, revealing Hanzo standing still while Brigitte worked on his hooves with a rasp. Torbjörn stood nearby, inspecting one of the strange hoof coverings that Hanzo had used.
McCree hummed. “People can change,” he pointed out. “I doubt he’s the same person you knew.”
“I know,” Genji agreed. “In some ways he’s still my brother but he’s also not the brother I knew. He’s not the same person that tried to kill me. I don’t know who he is.”
Watching Brigitte and Hanzo, McCree wondered the same thing as well. He was a killer, that much McCree was certain. But he let Brigitte manipulate his legs and arm him as if he had known her all his life. A person’s kit was their life and to a centaur, their legs a connection to their entire existence.
After all, if a centaur broke their leg, there wasn’t much to be done for them, even in this day and age. Not without great expense and great difficulty and a lot of biotics.
Yet Hanzo is letting Brigitte handle his legs so easily, had not protested when she and her father had pointed out (or so McCree assumed) the horrendous state of his hooves. How they were too long, too ragged. They hadn’t even properly fit in his coverings and yet Hanzo had still worn them, had still run.
Had still won against McCree .
Despite his pride being hurt, McCree couldn’t help but be impressed. He wondered how much harder Hanzo would fight with proper gear and healthy legs. Thinking back to how stark Hanzo’s ribs and hipbones had been against his hide, McCree added, and a proper meal .
If he needed to eat a lot due to his high metabolism, he couldn’t imagine what kind of food requirements that Hanzo would have, and how those needs had probably not been met very well while on the run.
McCree said nothing of his thoughts on the matter and Genji said nothing on his uncharacteristic silence or his lack of complaining on losing. Together they watched the Linholms and Hanzo until McCree’s stomach growled, reminding him to eat to replace the calories he had burned in the fight.
“Hanzo will be hungry, too,” Genji said, sounding a little lost as he followed McCree inside. “Perhaps...I can make him lunch?”
It wasn’t really a question, but Genji still looked at McCree as if expecting an answer. “Maybe,” he said vaguely. Then he thought again of how thin Hanzo was, thought about how thin he had been before arriving to the Watchpoint where he had access to safe places to sleep and regular meals.
“It won’t hurt,” he added reluctantly. “Here, I’ll help.”