the-mouse-and-the-mask

anonymous asked:

I need some angst... Hanzo, Genji and Zarya's trying to find their s/o who is fighting talon soldiers, and when do find them, they end getting shot right front of them... But somehow ending surviving.

Hanzo


He keeps to the rooftops, far removed from the chaos in the streets. His sonic arrows show him a path through the worst of it and when he stumbles over his teammates, cornered and trying to find their way back to the point, he helps as best he can. McCree waves a thanks at him when he shoots an attacker that would have flanked him but Hanzo barely sees. He’s searching, wasting his sonic equipment to save those crucial few seconds. The terrain is dominated by narrow alleys winding between high buildings that cast perpetual twilight on the streets below and carry echoes until their source is all but indeterminable. What he needs is visual confirmation, that’s the only way he’s ever going to find you in time. The last thing he heard from you was your frantic request for backup, the comm line breaking before you could pass on your position. He didn’t wait for Reinhardt’s permission to go look for you, knows there’s a lecture about teamwork in stock for him, but his team has things under control. You might still be in trouble.

Another arrow loosened and finally your silhouette appears before his eyes, unmistakably alive. Just a little more, around this chimney, he almost slips because he doesn’t look where he’s going, keeps his eyes on you, fearing you might disappear. He spots the man taking aim behind you before you do. And though he shouts, screams in fact so loud his lungs feel like bursting, he’s too far away for you to hear. The gunshot overcasts the sonic waves of his arrow, he’s blind to your fate, doesn’t know if you’ve been hit, if you’re still alive.
He trips over his feet the last metres, falls down the roof, not bothering to catch his fall, grabbing an arrow instead and ramming it into the enemy’s head, clean through his skull until the tip pierces his throat from the inside. He gurgles, falls over and Hanzo has to push his lifeless body to prevent it from falling on you.

You’re unconscious, but your hands are covered in blood, you must have tried to still the bleeding, which means you were still alive when you fell. Hanzo sinks to his knees at your side, searches for your pulse and doesn’t find it in his panic. Nothing, except his own heart hammering in his throat. His vision swims, the spot where the bullet struck in almost the exact same place where he impaled Genji nearly two decades ago, the blood-soaked fabric of your clothes clinging to your skin just as it did back then. He thinks he can smell the dojo, the wood and fibre, the incense, as he presses down on the gaping wound, blood squelching through his fingers. He’s doing it wrong, there’s more he ought to do but he can’t remember, doesn’t know, because all he sees is you and Genji, dying underneath his hands.

When his brother touches his shoulder he nearly screams.

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Old School (ft. Talib Kweli)
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Old School (ft. Talib Kweli)

On born days, I used to blow out the candles; and every Saturday

watch cartoons ‘til noon and then I’d switch to Ralph McDaniels

I was, makin up a miracle flow, over a cereal bowl

And a paused beat from my stereo

Rhymes stronger than Popeye with the spinach

Yeah I’m gangster like the frog on Courageous Cat and Minute Mouse

Maybe I’m trippin and it’s just a cartoon to you

But I got chills when I heard how Doom flipped the Scooby Doo

And, I might be buggin but it seem to me

that cartoons be realer than reality TV

They inspire my decision to be open and listen

But folks got it all twisted, like a yoga position

Like, in order to spit it dope, you gotta have a criminal past

that’s similar to the cast of Different Strokes

Me and my people break bread, sit and smoke

The conversation rich, but that depend on what you consider broke

I draw on anything for inspiration

A fond memory, a piece of paper, walls in a train station