Chronal Disassociation Ch. 58 (Patreon)

There was certainly an air of barely hidden tension, though Emily had the foresight not to disturb it too much. She wasn’t stupid. Emily knew that Archer had done this because he had needed to do something or the other, and Lena didn’t like the fact that Emily had essentially been dragged along for the ride.

It was what Emily found both endearing and frustrating about her wife.

Lena didn’t seem to want to accept that Emily could still take care of herself. She wasn’t some damsel in distress that needed to be protected in a gilded cage. She was her own person at the end of the day, and that despite their marriage, Emily could and should be able to do what she wanted.

And what Emily wanted is for her wife to bloody relax!

Emily hadn’t noticed for a while, much to her shame, that Lena had been piling more and more work onto her plate. Or, rather, her wife hadn’t so much as complained about the workload that Overwatch had been giving her. Emily had initially thought that it was just her finally getting into the swing of things, and that whatever had previously frustrated her wife had become much easier with time.

She was wrong.

Lena had practically thrown herself into Overwatch, to the point where Emily had been worried about her mental health. She’d consulted a doctor about it - not an Overwatch-affiliated one though - and just from the description of her wife, the doctor had said that she was likely suffering from some level of trauma-induced hypervigilance. The kind that didn't come from a single incident, but from a steady accumulation of near-misses and close calls that had rewired her brain to expect danger around every corner.

The worst thing about it is that Lena wasn’t necessarily wrong about thinking like that.

The first, most glaring example was the starting point of everything here. The Slipstream. The damned jet that had led to Lena’s chronal disassociation in the first place. The test flight that should have been nothing more than routine.

And then came along Null Sector’s Uprising in King’s Row, and everything revolving around Amélie. Situations where the pilot should have expected safety, were suddenly not. If anything, it’s a miracle that Lena wasn’t even more paranoid.

Maybe Emily should have talked to her wife about this before accepting Archer’s invitation without a hint of hesitation. However, she also knew that Lena had a stubborn streak that would put anyone to shame. Any attempts to actually get her to admit she had a problem and that she needed therapy would end in an argument.

Say what you can about the advancement of humanity, but it seemed to Emily that the very human capacity to say ‘I’m fine’ remained as stagnant as ever. At least, from all the shows she’s watched. Archer would certainly know more about that personally.

Speaking of the red-clad man, it was extremely obvious that Archer had done some investigating on his own. The man was a literal ghost! There was no way to keep him out of things, the only issue was finding the place he wanted to break into.

Seriously, did neither of them think that Emily wouldn’t find it suspicious when Archer suggested they go to New Mexico of all places? Not that there was anything wrong about New Mexico, of course, just that, it wasn’t exactly on the top of anyone’s vacation wishlists.

That, and the biker gangs that still existed. Emily had prepared a bit by looking into things, and for some reason, New Mexico, specifically Albuquerque, were home to a notorious group known as the Deadlock Gang. Infamous for their illegal weapons trade, they were the biggest gang in the entire state.

Even though they were criminals, the local and state police had barely gotten involved with them. Rumors had been all over the internet that it was because the gang was good for tourism, as they added a flair for the old west theme that the state was trying to promote.

Utter bollocks, Emily had thought. Upon seeing more than one depiction of a certain white-haired woman as a mural, she had had to revise that thought.

Still, Lena didn’t seem to know about that, which was fine by her. Archer and Sombra (and yes, Emily could hear the hacker. Sombra had given her her own communicator without Archer or Lena knowing) more than likely knew about the Deadlock Gang too, but they had stayed quiet.

After all, what were the chances of encountering a criminal organization on some random day?

…

Sometimes, Emily knew that she needed to just not think about things.

“I thought you said you had it handled?” Lena hissed into the communicator, frustration leaking into her voice.

“...Okay, I admit it’s my fault,” Sombra started, “But in my defense, who could’ve predicted that some random American gang would be following you guys in the first place?!”

Right after they had exited the gallery (They had somehow gotten ahold of the original Starry Night!) Sombra had informed them that someone had been tailing them. Due to that, Archer had led them around the entire area, trying to lose their tail. 

It hadn’t worked.

Soon, Sombra was frantically trying to disrupt whoever it was that was following, but to no avail. After that, Emily could spot distinctly different people attempting to intercept between them. She couldn’t be sure, yet her instincts were telling her that those were people that Archer had gotten ahold of as their security. Judging by the tone of blue that all of them were wearing on some part of their outfits, Emily could only guess they were off-duty Overwatch members.

It was to no avail though, as they were eventually cornered. Any avenue of escape was completely blocked off. They were trapped.

Well, trapped as much as one could be when Archer was right next to them.

Indeed, while Lena was fuming with rage and dread in equal parts, the Spirit was standing calmly in front of them.

Quite literally, they had nothing to fear. Even Emily was more or less calm, as while the Deadlock Gang (going by the markings on their bandanas) was known to smuggle weapons, not once had they been reported as hurting innocents, barring the security of whatever guns they were stealing.

It was part of what made their notoriety a lot more romantic. The Robin Hoods of the American southwest, stealing from the big corporations that had plagued the land. Except they were stealing weapons, and they were selling them for a profit.

Not much overlap, thinking about it, but public perception was always skewed like that.

“Alright, alright. Let’s settle down now.” A click of boots accompanied the southern drawl of a woman. Despite them being in public, all anyone around them was doing was pull out their phones and record. The woman that had approached them had a shock of white hair, the same shade as Archer’s. 

She wore a black cowboy hat pulled low, its brim casting a sharp shadow over red eyes that scanned the crowd with lazy confidence. Her fitted jacket hung open over a crisp white shirt and a crimson tie knotted just loose enough to suggest she'd rather be anywhere else, but she was here, and that was your problem. Red lipstick painted a sharp line across her mouth, and the small mole beside her left lip seemed to punctuate every word she hadn't yet spoken, while an earring caught the sun with a glare.

Emily was married, but damn, she could appreciate the sight of a beauty like Elizabeth ‘Calamity’ Ashe.

“I don’t wanna make a mess of things, but I heard from a little bird that someone here picked up a package I’ve been keeping an eye on.” Ashe drawled out with a lazy smirk, “And I heard that I would know who it was the moment I saw ‘em.”

With a look around, her eyes immediately landed on Archer, who had crossed his arms and closed his eyes. Lena was tense next to her, as they both were still behind Archer. Emily knew her wife was ready to shoot in the event all hell broke loose. To that effect, Emily placed a hand on her wife’s arm and smiled.

It barely calmed her down.

“Well now,” Ashe made her way in front of Archer, and despite the height difference being more than a head, the gang leader looked up with more than a hint of confidence, “Didn’t think I’d be meeting the president of my fan club today. You do that dye job yourself?” There was a round of laughter as she spoke.

“All natural, I’m afraid.” Archer uncrossed his arms, one hand rising in a placating gesture that somehow managed to convey both surrender and supreme indifference, "I'd offer to swap stories about hair care routines, but I get the feeling you're not here for beauty tips."

Ashe let out a sharp, genuine bark of laughter. "Cute. But no, I ain't here for beauty tips, silver."

She rested a hand casually on the heavy lever-action rifle slung at her hip, "Let's cut to the chase. You took a little detour from your vacation to visit a local gunsmith. Word on the street is, you walked out with a very specific, very rare package."  

Archer's smirk didn't waver, "I did admire a pre-war Colt while I was there, it’s true. A fine piece of craftsmanship."  

"Don't play coy with me," Ashe snapped, the lazy drawl tightening into something dangerous, "I'm talking about the custom mechanisms you bought right after. I had my eye on those for months. So, you're gonna hand them over, and my boys will let you and your little entourage go back to buying overpriced hats."

Lena stepped forward, her chronal accelerator humming to life, but Archer simply raised a hand to stall her.

"I'm afraid handing them over is out of the question." Archer said smoothly, "I was asked to procure those replacement parts for a colleague's revolver. I intend to deliver them."  

Ashe’s crimson eyes narrowed, her gaze darting between Lena’s stance and Archer’s nonchalance, "A colleague?" She paused, the gears turning behind her sharp eyes. Then, her upper lip curled into a sneer, "Don't tell me. There's two people on this planet that would use those parts, and one of 'em's me. Cole Cassidy. You got those parts for Cole fucking Cassidy."

Archer inclined his head slightly, "He is quite particular about his maintenance."

The air temperature seemed to drop ten degrees. Even their little audience started to back away as they recognized the look on Ashe's face. There was a reason she was nicknamed 'Calamity'. 

Ashe took a slow step forward, her voice dripping with pure venom, "You listen here. You tell that ungrateful traitor that he doesn't get to send his little fan club into my territory to scoop up my hardware."

For a moment, Emily forgot this was real life as a western standoff started right in front of her. Sweat made its way down her brow as the tension that Lena had been feeling found its way to everyone else.

"I doubt you want this to be any more of a public spectacle than it already is." Archer raised his arms placatingly, "In fact, why don't we talk this over a few drinks?" He gestured towards the bar that they had conveniently stopped near.

Was…was Archer flirting with Ashe? Emily could only watch in disbelief, as the criminal paused and seemingly considered the proposal. Did he know this would happen? Was the entire run-around just a massive red herring so he could ask Calamity Ashe herself out for drinks?

“Guapo’s got some moves, I’ll tell you that much.” Even Sombra was impressed, judging by the tone of her voice.

Ashe clicked her tongue in annoyance as she holstered her gun, “Fine. But if I don’t like what I hear, B.O.B.’s going to have some words with you, if you get what I’m saying.”

To the rest of the now diminished crowd, she gave a winning smile, one that was completely out of sync with her previous words, “Nothin’ to see here folks. Just a little friendly negotiation between business partners. Now put them phones away and clear out before I decide to charge you all a premium for lookin' at my good side.”

She entered the bar at the same time as Archer. Emily and Lena only followed as literally everyone else shrugged and moved on.

…