Overwatch High School: During The Crisis

Runaway

Gabriel Reyes takes his time on the walk home, already knowing he's in for an earful when he finally gets there. It isn't really his fault he's missing curfew. He'll stop to get in some extra work on studying or football, and before he knows it the clock is reading an hour later than he thought it was. As he keeps walking, an all too familiar noise reaches his ears; the sounds of childish, jeering voices and the crash of something heavy meeting metal ring out from an alley between two houses. "Come on, Gabe. Time to play neighborhood cop." The real police don't really come here anymore, besides to pick up the bodies, casualties of the enmity that exists in the stretch where human neighborhoods slowly give way to omnic neighborhoods. Every once in a while, some kids want to play hero and decide to beat up one of the omnics. These little raids can go downhill really fast, so Gabe does his best to break it up when he can. He reaches the alley, and is greeted by the exact sight he was expecting: an Omnic on the ground, and a gang of boys surrounding it. One of them is holding a baseball bat. That could be a problem. "Hey, chicos estupidos."

The boys look up, and a few of them turn and run. Good, makes Gabe's job easier. The boy with the bat draws himself up to his full height of about 5 foot nothing, a defiant look in his eyes. "You should keep walking before we lose our patience." The unimpressive threat isn't helped by his voice, still high and childish. Gabe raises an eyebrow. "Sure. Scram, kid. This isn't worth it. I'm pretty sure that this guy, or girl, or whatever," he gestures to the omnic, still curled up in a ball, "has some friends that you really don't want joining this fight. So get lost before someone meaner than me shows up."

Another kid, a slightly older boy with unkempt brown hair and a red bandana around his neck, tugs the sleeve of the bat boy, who seems to be the leader, "This omnic ain't worth more trouble than we already have, Noah. We should just get out of here." The leader hesitates, then relents. "Fine. Let's go."

He and the rest of his group follow the same path their friends took earlier. Gabe shakes his head and pulls out his phone, dialing a familiar number. "911, what's your emergency?"

"I've got an omnic here who could use some help. Let me just get the address."

"Gabriel? Is that you again?"

"Yeah. Someone has to check the border for fights, right? I'm almost to the street sign."

"The ambulance is already heading to the neighborhood."

"I'll wait 'til they get there." Yesterday he did this for a man who ran afoul of an omnic gang looking to prove a point. Gabe may never see the front line of the Omnic Crisis, but he's seen enough of its casualties to last a lifetime.

————

Another night, another long walk. Gabriel wais for the inevitable sounds of trouble to ruin the quiet, but instead of noise he has the strangest feeling that someone is following him on his route. There's an extra echo to his footsteps. After a few blocks, Gabe gives in to the suspicious feeling and decides to investigate. "Who's there? I swear I don't have anything on me worth taking, unless you're really interested in last week's math homework." He catches a quick movement in the corner of his eye, and his instinct takes over as he grabs his suspected shadow. "Hey! Quita tus manos de mi!"

It's the other kid from yesterday, the scrawny one with the brown hair and bandana. He tries to look brave, but there's fear behind his eyes. Gabe doesn't let go of the boy, but he loosens his grip a little. "Want to tell me why you were following me, chico?"

"Go to h--" Gabe interrupts him. "Language, chico. How old are you?"

"13 and a half." The boy makes those extra six months sound like years. His voice has a certain twang to it. "Then what are you doing out here so late? You got parents to worry about you?"

"Left 'em back in Santa Fe when I came here with the Deadlocks." Gabriel's heart sinks slightly. "The Deadlocks being the idiots I caught you with yesterday."

"Yeah." The boy is only two years younger than Gabriel, but he doesn't look it. He's definitely small for his age, almost just skin and bones. "Got a name, chico?"

"McCree."

"Got a real name?" He gets indignant at that. "That is my real name! Jesse McCree!"

Gabriel almost snorts. "That can't be a real name. Sounds like a cowboy from a bad Western movie."

"Well, what's yours?"

"Gabriel Reyes. Now, Jesse," his grip tightens again, startling Jesse, "I'm going to give you an option here. I can let you go, but tip a friend of mine off to a group of runaways causing trouble in my neighborhood, or--"

"I'm already liking the 'or'."

"Don't interrupt me, McCree. Or," Gabe takes a deep breath, weighing his next decision carefully, "you can come with me." Jesse looks at him suspiciously. "Where exactly would we be going, Reyes?"

"You'd just have to see." Jesse frowns. "So, lemme get this straight. My options are jail, or going with you."

"Yeah. It's your choice, vaquero. I can promise that nothing bad should happen to you if you pick option 2."

"Should?"

"We're dealing with my mother when I'm out past curfew. Hopefully she'll be too busy with you." Gabe lets go of Jesse and starts walking, and from behind him comes the sound of running feet as Jesse hurries to catch up. "Can she cook?"

"The real problem is getting her to stop cooking. Why, you hungry?"

"Well, there ain't really a lot to eat with the Deadlocks. Nobody wants to sell us anything." Gabe shakes his head. "Then come on. Dinner's already gotten cold twice by now."

————

Gabriel's prediction was right. The second McCree walked in the door, his mother was fussing over him. Extra food was brought out, a bed made up on the couch, and some of Gabe's old clothes were put out for Jesse to wear tomorrow. His mother's decision of "He can stay the night" turned into "He can stay the week" and, after a few months, "Good night, mijo."

They got Jesse into school a few weeks after he started staying with him. He was in 8th grade, but had trouble with his classes. Gabe did his best to help him, but it was difficult to make up for the time that Jesse had lost with the Deadlocks. Finally, Gabe made him a deal. "You get a passing grade in all your classes, and I'll see if we can get you on the football team for your Freshman year." Turns out that was pretty good incentive for Jesse, who would almost always prefer playing some kind of sport to working on his homework. It wasn't pretty, but Jesse managed to get his passing grades.

————

"Ok, remember how we practiced it."

"I don't know if I can do this. I do fine in the park, but what if I can't do it in front of people?"

"Don't give me that. You're one of the best kickers I've ever seen." It's true. Gabe has never seen someone able to control the ball as well as Jesse. You tell him where you want the ball, and that's where it will go. "You've got this in the bag, vaquero." Gabe slaps Jesse on the back, unsure of how else to comfort his anxious friend. "Besides, our kicker graduated last year. You're going for an open spot."

"You're right." Jesse exhales, shaking himself slightly as if to shake off the nerves. "I can do this. You'll wait for me, right?"

"Of course. I'm not letting you walk home late alone to face Mom. She'd kill both of us, you for being late, and me for letting you walk home by yourself after dark. You're always good at talking her out of grounding me for life." Jesse grins at that. "What can I say? I've got a certain charm."

"Yeah, yeah, just get out there and kick." Gabe gently cuffs him in the back of the head, and watches as that same scrawny kid from a year ago, now a few inches taller and of a healthier, broader build, runs onto the field, ready for the first day of tryouts. He smiles, and says to himself, "Good work, Gabe. You finally did something right."