Origins (Overwatch Ashe x Male Reader)

019

Unlike Cutthroat Trout, I did pass through Fort Starr. Nestled in the hills beyond the outskirts of Bellerae which was built up around the old fort that gave the place its name.

Small and remote, with only a hundred or so residents, it had been mostly known as a tourist destination according to most of the residents. Because of how small it was I didn't stick around for too long because they'd start seeing me as the little street rat there. 

Some of those folks never left after the Omnic war, and the quiet little town became known for a particular brand of trade; it wasn't a black market exactly, but it also wasn't the sort of place respectable citizens did their shopping. But it was the sort of place that had the parts needed to whip the hoverbikes into shape, along with the other heist supplies we needed.

Ashe is wearing her Calamity disguise she'd worn to Cutthroat Trout's, brushing stray strands of the red wig away from her face as they drove into town. Its main street ran straight, ending at the eponymous fort, whose adobe walls were sun-baked and half-crumbled. Lining the road were a variety of storefronts, many with hand-painted signs and windows advertising everything from hot breakfasts to military surplus.

Cole parks our latest "borrowed" truck (with lev rims this time) in front of a saloon that appeared to be doing a brisk trade, given the number of hovercycles parked out in front of it.

We left B.O.B. at the mansion with a fear that he might be recognised.

"Hm," said Cole, gazing around, "where to first?"

"We've got a list," Ashe clears her throat. "So let's start at the top. Ammo. We're going to need plenty of that for sure." She gestures to the nearby shop that caught her attention.

A bell over the door tinkles the moment we step in, waking the man dozing behind the counter. He straightens himself, scepticism growing on his face as he looked over the five of us. "Can I help you?"

"You sure can. These." She grabbed a few boxes. "And these."

She built a pile on the counter. By the time she was finished, the proprietor's reluctance had been replaced with eagerness, eyes bright at the prospect of a good sale. Though a large part of me knows that he is going to get the most out of idiots like us.

"How much?" Ashe asks. When he gave her the price, she nodded. "Frankie, pay the man."

"Hold on." Julian pushed his way in front of Ashe, an unamused look on his face. "This gentleman must be joking with you, because if he isn't, that's highway robbery."

The proprietor steps back, almost offended. "I assure you, my prices are always fair."

I chuckle as I side next to Julian. "Fair for you? You are robbing us of a life time of courage and savings."

"Exactly. Fair would be half of what you just quoted," Julian narrows his eyes at him.. "And I bet that's exactly what we'll pay if we take our business down the street to one of your competitors. Hell, maybe even less."

"Not true. And you'd be getting inferior goods anywhere else."

I scoff. "Pretending that we weren't here before? We can take our business somewhere else, but we want quality but not at these prices.."

His expression softened. "A discerning buyer like yourself wouldn't want that. I'm sure we can work something out." He gave another price.

Julian began to speak again, then stopped, and turned expectantly to Ashe. It took a moment for her to realize what he was looking for from her: approval. I am not spearheading it because the two of us are on shaky terms right now.