open post;

[nostalgiabomb]

( x )

Comments

[twelveoclock]

We used t'be kinda a big deal. Got a few leftovers from those days.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He leans back in his seat, crossing his arms over his chest. ]

So what makes you guys stick around? Seems kinda counterproductive to stay aboard an already sunken ship.

[twelveoclock]

[ He shrugs ]

Just 'cause the Omnic Crisis is over don't mean that there ain't wrongs in this world that need rightin'.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His head tilts a little. ]

So, what, that makes you guys like the A-Team or something?

[twelveoclock]

I like to think we got better aim, but it ain't too bad a comparison.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He laughs a little. ]

Fair enough.

[ He glances out the window again, clearing his throat – clearly working up to something. Then, ]

... So. Earlier. [ A pause. ] I guess I should've thanked you for fishing me out of the desert.

[twelveoclock]

[ Well, a thank you was certainly not what he was expecting after all that build-up, but he’ll take it. ]

Just doin’ my job.

[nostalgiabomb]

Yeah, well, job or not, I guess I owe you one. And I repay my debts, so long as they're only mildly inconvenient for me.

[twelveoclock]

I'll be damned. I didn't know you were such a saint.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He gives a quick salute. ]

That's me. Pure angel, through and through.

[twelveoclock]

Careful. This plane comes with a bullshit detector, and you're liable to break it at this point.

Anyway, got another few hours left before we land. You're welcome t' put a movie on if ya want.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He settles back in his seat. ]

If it's all the same, I think I'm just gonna pass out, considering you woke me up at ass o'clock this morning.

[twelveoclock]

It wasn't that bad.

[ But he still motions to the empty space next to him ]

You want the couch? I can move.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He gives the couch a considering look, then, ]

Nah. I'm good. I'm alright here.

[twelveoclock]

[ He shrugs, standing up from his spot on the couch anyway. ] Suit yerself. I'm gonna go talk to the doc.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter catches a few hours of sleep here and there during their flight, no thanks to his unhealthy sense of paranoia, which prods him awake to evaluate his surroundings when things get too quiet. The rest of the time he spends staring out the window, watching the Earth coasting away beneath them.

(He had imagined his long-awaited homecoming, of course – especially when he was younger, and thought he still had something to return to – but less so in recent years. Peter may be mostly human, but his home isn't Earth anymore. It hasn't been for a long, long time.

Maybe some time in the future he would've found his way back on his own terms, but that choice is gone, now. But at least he arrived in a really fiery way.)

Half the day and a decent handful of hours later finds Peter staring out of the window again, chin propped up by his hand. He seems lost in thought, but he's aware enough to hear idle chatter about landing soon. About damn time, as far as he's concerned. ]

[twelveoclock]

[ Yeah, the flight takes a while, but McCree’s used to it by this point. He wanders back to the medbay and chats with Angie for a bit- she makes some interesting remarks about Peter, but McCree is no doctor so her comments just sort of slide right off him as he nods and pretends to look fascinated. Otherwise he keeps himself entertained by watching moves, playing solitaire, or dozing on the couch.

At least the pilot’s voice chimes over the intercom to let them know to prep for landing. McCree extracts himself from the couch and takes a seat in the chair across from Peter, while the doctor primly makes her way to another seat further up the cabin to strap in. ]

I bet this is a far cry from what you’re used to, huh?

[nostalgiabomb]

[ His gaze stays fixed on the window. ]

What, getting whisked away by a cowboy on a tricked-out airplane to someplace overseas?

[ A shrug. ]

Sounds like a standard Thursday to me.

[twelveoclock]

[ He gives an amused snort. ] Sounds like ya lead a charmed life.

I mean the flyin’.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Another shrug. ]

Not really. I get around on a planet same as anyone else – one wing at a time.

Teleportation gives me motion sickness, anyway.

[twelveoclock]

Still tryin’ to wrap my head around the idea that there’s other planets even out there. Guess it stands t’reason, but it sure makes a man feel small in the grand scheme a’ things.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ He huffs out a laugh. ]

Yeah, I guess it’s kinda humbling, at first, knowing there are other planets, other stations, other systems full of people dealing with their own problems and living their own lives.

You get over it after a while, though, same as anyone else. You kinda have to.

[twelveoclock]

Makes sense. Thankfully, I ain’t the kinda guy to think about things too hard.

[ He flashes Peter a grin, leaning back in his seat as the pilot announces they’re beginning they’re descent. It’s not long before they land on a small airstrip near the base. What’s left of Overwatch’s home base are a series of structures built right into the mountainside, and McCree waits for Peter to exit the plane before heading towards the largest of them. As they go, he lights a cigar. Hope you don’t mind the smoke, bro. ]

I figure we’ll get ya straight to Winston so we can get a hold of your pals.

[nostalgiabomb]

[ Peter hops off the plane after McCree, case in hand, and takes a second to examine his surroundings. The base reminds Peter more than a little of the kind of secret lair a Bond villain would own, thanks in no small part to the remote location and all the exposed stone, but he keeps the thought to himself. ]

That’s really all? E.T. phones home, and that’s the end of it?

[twelveoclock]

[ He glances over, one eyebrow raised. ]

Are you just really hopin’ somebody cuts you open or are you just that paranoid?