Overwatch CFNM: McCree Brandishes His Revolver

“No, it canh’t be!” Elizabeth Caledonia Ashe shook her asymmetric white bob in disbelief as she stared at the sleeping form of McCree through her binoculars. “Why is that backstabbin’ miscreant here?” 

“It’s not just him, vaquera,” Sombra said in between sips of her mojito. The two were nestled into a private cabana, along with several subordinates from their respective organizations. The hacker nodded up to the top floor where Widowmaker was scoping out the beach with the sight of her rifle. “Tall, dark, and moody up there just announced over comms that she’s spotted Tracer skulking around out there too. This isn’t a coincidence, they know we’re here.”

Ashe’s eyes narrowed accusatorily at the Latina woman, “Which one of you Talon stooges squealed?”

Sombra shrugged disinterestedly, “It’s more likely one of your crew was sloppy and got pinched by a security camera.” 

“The Deadlock Gang ain’t no amateurs!” the gang leader cried defensively, grabbing her Arbalest rifle and pointing it off into the distance, “Here, I’ll get rid o’ him—”

“Are you loco?!” Sombra said sharply, grabbing the barrel of Ashe's gun and forcing it downward. “You start shooting into the beach and you're going to give away our position to every law enforcement officer out there including those in Overwatch do-gooders. I’ll handle this. Quietly!”  

“Well this had better work,” Ashe pouted as the techie began furiously typing away at her holoscreens. “Oh, and Sombra? Don’t you ever touch one of my guns a’gin.”