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[nostalgiabomb]

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[twelveoclock]

Hoo-ee. I am the last person you should be takin' history lessons from.

[ He leans back, snatching the TV remote from where it sits near the first aid bag, and flips the TV on. It's already on one of those 24-hour news networks, and the anchor is speaking over footage of protesters- some of them human, some of them clearly not. The anchor goes on to talk about "omnic rights" and the debates thereof. (Are these machines alive? Do they truly have free wills? Should they not be gien basic rights as a result?) At one point she references something called an "Omnic Crisis", and that's when McCree lowers the volume some ]

Welcome to the new Earth.

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[ He arches an eyebrow when McCree turns on the television, nearly says some smart-assed thing about how he could've just said he didn't feel like having this conversation anymore, but Peter catches on pretty quick once he hears the reporter speaking.

He watches, frowning (and admittedly, one of the first things he thinks is, Did we learn nothing from Terminator, guys?) until McCree speaks again. He stays quiet for a second or two, before redirecting his attention to the other man. ]

And what's this Overwatch thing have to do with that?

[twelveoclock]

[ He motions to the TV ] Things between omnics and and people started out... rough. Rougher than they are now.

They rebelled against their creators an' the world at large. That was the start of the Omnic Crisis. Overwatch was a specialized force created to combat the omnics. A lotta folks called 'em heroes, but eventually the Crisis ended, and Overwatch fell outa favor with... well, with everybody.

They imploded after that. Tension in the ranks, that kinda thing. Officially, they been inactive ever since.

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"Officially inactive." [ He parrots it back with a doubtful little look. ] But have they been working in the background since then? Like, say, sending Black Bart into the desert to spot UFOs?

[twelveoclock]

Dunno. Could be. [ he smirks a little, his expression basically confirming Peter's suspicions ] It's all just rumors.

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[ He snorts, something dismissive, and finally settles back on the bed, leaning his weight on his good hand. ]

So some dead Skynet-fighting organization, which may or may not still exist, may or may not have sent Buffalo Bill out to see what landed in the middle of nowhere in New Mexico.

What were you even hoping to find?

[twelveoclock]

No idea. But we knew that whatever it was, it was best kept outa certain people's hands.

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Like the Deadwoods? [ will he ever get that right. ] Or someone else?

[twelveoclock]

[ McCree nearly corrects him again, but stops himself. At this point, he could be messing it up on purpose ]

Mostly them, considerin' you landed in their turf.

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[ He gives an acknowledging hum, pausing to think this over for a second or two.

Then, ] I thought folks from shadowy organizations were supposed to wear more black?

[twelveoclock]

Black's not really my color.

But I oughta make that call. The sooner we get ya to Winston and Doc Ziegler, the sooner you can reunite with your team.

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Ziegler? [ That's a new name, and he frowns. Part of him assumed that this Winston guy was all they needed to meet. ]

Go on, then. Not like I'm goin' anywhere.

[twelveoclock]

Closest thing to a literal angel I've ever met. She'll get ya patched up.

She ain't gonna take no for an answer, either.

[ But he stands, fishing a phone out of his pocket and dredging up a cigar from somewhere. ]

Won't be a minute.

[ With that, he steps outside. ]

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[ w e l p. Peter's pretty sure the guy stepped outside for privacy, but fuck that.

He carefully moves to the door, and while his first inclination is to press his ear against it, he also knows that's a rookie mistake. Easier to get caught there, as logical as the position is for eavesdropping. Instead, he presses his back against the wall besides the door, trying to listen in. ]

[twelveoclock]

[ This ain't McCree's first rodeo, so to speak. He's moved away from the door, leaning against the back of the Jeep and keeping his tone low as he chats with Winston. Peter will have to really strain to catch snippets of this conversation, but it's all pretty standard stuff. He relays what happened in the crater. He relays what Peter said about his team. He arranges a ride out of there for the next day.

Winston has a few things to say to him, as well, and he mostly responds with quiet "uh-huhs".

He's about to hang up when he pauses, and says softly, ] Hey, Winston? Do me a favor and have Athena run a search for the name "Peter Quill" and send me the results.

[ Yeah, he's having the Overwatch AI dig up dirt on Peter. Sorry bro.

He snuffs out his cigar and heads back into the room. ]

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[ wow rude

Peter frowns as he focuses, but he only manages to get bits and pieces. Nothing that manages to catch his attention. He thinks he hears his name, but doesn't think much of it – he offered that up freely, after all, and there was surely no way that could possibly bite him in the ass.

As McCree is saying his goodbyes, Peter moves away from the door, carefully lying back in bed, ankles crossed and one hand behind his head. When the door opens, he quirks an eyebrow. ]

All good?

[twelveoclock]

[ He saunters back in and tucks his phone away in his pocket. ] For the most part.

Winston tells me somethin' crashed into the moon. You wouldn't know anything about that, would ya?

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[ He feigns a look of annoyance. ]

What, you think all aliens know what's going on outside of Earth? I'm pretty sure that's discrimination.

[twelveoclock]

Figured ya might at least have an idea. There’s an old research facility up there, and whatever it was came mighty close to takin’ it out.

But I guess if it don’t pose any kinda threat, it doesn’t matter. [ He meanders over to the closet and pulls out a folded up roll-away cot. He wheels it over to the foot of the bed and begins setting it up ]. Might wanna make good on that nap a’ yours. We’re leavin’ first thing in the mornin’.

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[ Circumstances being what they are, Peter does not feel guilty in the slightest for claiming the bed and watches McCree setup the roll-away impassively.

He also does not make good on that nap of his, deciding to frown instead. ]

Since when was there a research facility on the moon?

[twelveoclock]

[ He shrugs, taking a seat on the edge of the cot and kicking off his boots. ] Been there for a while. It’s where Winston’s from.

… Ah, oughta warn ya. Winston’s a gorilla.

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[ Flatly, ] Winston’s a what now.

[twelveoclock]

A gorilla. Or are you askin’ ‘cause you don’t know what that is?

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[ He waves a hand dismissively. ] I know what it is.

You’re taking me to see a scientist gorilla from the moon. [ A pause. ] What.

[twelveoclock]

We got robots vyin’ for civil rights– [ he waves a hand towards the TV ] –and that’s the part you’re havin’ trouble with?