͏͏Nᴀᴍᴇ Unknown
Gᴇɴᴅᴇʀ Male
Aɢᴇ 37
Dᴀᴛᴇ ᴏғ Bɪʀᴛʜ May 26th, 1980
Pʟᴀᴄᴇ ᴏғ Oʀɪɢɪɴ Santa Fe, New Mexico, United States
Sᴄᴇɴᴛ Cigar smoke, chili powder, and the hot electricity before a storm.
Rᴇʟᴀᴛɪᴏɴsʜɪᴘ Sᴛᴀᴛᴜs Single
Sᴇxᴜᴀʟɪᴛʏ Anyone, Anytime, Anywhere
Fᴀᴍɪʟʏ Mother - Unknown [Deceased]
Father - Unknown [Deceased]
Mentor - Ana Amari [Deceased]
▴ Carefree ▴ ▾ Flippant ▾ ▴ Short-Tempered ▴ ▾ Distant ▾
Go to a bar down in Santa Fe and ask every single one of the patrons there who Jesse McCree is. They'll each say something different, something true, but they'll never have every piece of the puzzle and they'll never think to put their pieces together.
For a lot of people, Jesse McCree's just a name on a poster or flashing on various signs and billboards of one of the world's most wanted criminals. He's a dangerous man, a gunslinger, armed and loaded with a six-shooter and no wits about him. People won't refute that logic when faced with a 6'1" hulking man decked out like wild west cowboy. Criminal insanity, they'd say. And yet, how does a man with such an intimidating reputation charm the boots off of every ma'am and sir in any bar he runs through.
All of this, this building of a persona that people whisper over crowded subways and inside the many bullet trains that wrap around the world is exactly what Jesse McCree wants. The more people don't actually know about him, the better, and giving them scraps to hang onto and build something out of nothing is the best way to keep things that way. The real Jesse McCree certainly isn't any of the things the many governments of the world want him to be, hell even the people he fools on the daily don't know a lick about him. Except for the fact that he's devilishly handsome and could rock anyone's socks, if given the chance.
No, the people McCree found family in are dead and gone, and he might as well have went with them. But, if they could tell you about Jesse, they'd have a hell of a lot to say.
First off, don't believe a thing that comes out of his mouth. Chances are, he's exaggerating everything just to get a reaction. The kid's all spitfire and cocky arrogance, or at least he used to be. Now, perhaps, he's broken into his bones, let his adulthood grow into him. What used to be charming, if a bit insulting, cat calls have turned into a lazy drawl, hooded eyes, and smile only tainted by the dozens of cigars he smokes on a daily. McCree talks smooth, a buttered tone to butter up with the intention of getting something for himself - most of the time.
But, even as amicable as McCree tends to be, he's still cautious of what he shares. He left Overwatch for a reason, which meant he left a lot of his trust behind him. Being taught to rely on yourself and actually having to rely on yourself are two different things entirely. For a people person like McCree is, keeping everyone and everything at a distance is hard. But, as the years roll by, he's found it easier and easier to give someone a smile from a far. It brings him to the same destination, so why not go the extra mile for security.
Now, it's hard to get out of that mindset, so much so that anyone trying to dig under the walls he's put up sparks a flame in him that he thought he'd tamped down on long ago. As McCree ventures on, he realizes more and more that he's not progressing in his personality, he's regressing into the seventeen year old hotshot that Reyes found all those years ago. He desperately wants to claw himself out of the hole he's falling back in, but the familiar comfort of old habits are all too alluring for a man who just wants to run away from everything.
Lɪᴋᴇs Heat, Cards (Texas Hold 'Em), Whiskey, the Night Sky, Cigars, and Old Westerns
Dɪsʟɪᴋᴇs Bustling Cities, Being Stationary, Cheaters, Buzzkills, Bein' Sober, and Hospitals
Hᴏʙʙɪᴇs Vagrancy, Cooking Mexican Style Cuisine, and Quickdraw
Sᴛʀᴇɴɢᴛʜs ✪ Sharpshooter; Not only is McCree exceptionally fast at drawing his weapon and firing, but his aim's nearly impeccable and with just a pistol, to boot. Though, the father the bullet travels, the less force it has, McCree can still strike enemies at reasonably long distances.
✪ Dirty Fighting; Even if he hates when people cheat him in cards, McCree's actually not one to play by the rules. He'll do what he's gotta do to win a fight, no holds barred.
✪ Reflex; Part of having the quickest draw in the west (ha) means having insane reflexes and McCree's honed and trained his over the years. His reaction time is incredibly fast and, even if it isn't inhuman, it's quite impressive for the cowboy.
Wᴇᴀᴋɴᴇssᴇs ✪ Furtive; The issue with McCree is that he dislikes confiding in anyone, relying on people, especially with what's happened in his past. So, he keeps many things to himself, including his wounds, which can more than a minor grievance when he refuses to get something patched up.
✪ Short-Tempered; Even despite his laid back attitude, there are a number of things that can set Jesse ablaze. It's perhaps wrongly labeled; he's not short-tempered, as in many things can easily anger him, but more so a few things have a 100% success rate when it comes to making McCree furious. But, even those buttons he keeps secret.
✪ Stationary; Whenever McCree uses his dead-eye, the amount of focus necessary to use the ability renders him practically immobile, or just incredibly slow. It's not as flashy or majestic as he makes it sound, but standing still in an open battlefield tends to leave him sticking out like a sore thumb, so it's easy to knock him down before he can easily pick everyone off.
Bʀɪᴇғ BɪᴏɢʀᴀᴘʜʏEveryone's got something they're running from. At the age of 16, in all of his teenage desperation, Jesse ran from his father. As soon as his sickly mother passed away, McCree dropped everything and ran. Early on in his life, McCree figured out how to live as a vagrant - or rather, he was forced to. Running from the only home he had meant McCree had to quickly find a way to survive on his own. He dropped his name, stole some shitty close, took an old man's revolver in the middle of the night (woke up his dog and nearly got himself killed), and took to the streets to make a name for himself. A regular 'Billie the Kid', but this time Billie actually was a kid.
Lucky for McCree, the kid was a good shot. He ran a muck through Santa Fe's surrounding towns, stealing food and occasionally convincing people to give him some dirty work. It quickly caught the eye of the gang stationed nearby, the dreaded Deadlocks. Whether fortunate or unfortunate, the Deadlocks were looking to bolster their ranks with every fresh meatshield they could find. They figured a 16 year old deadbeat would do just fine and took McCree in the hopes that the next showdown would see him gone. If not, they may have a worthy member yet.
A win-win scenario.
For all his worth, McCree wasn't ready for just how big these operations were. Deadlock didn't bother with the drug cartel; money currently found itself swimming in the weapons market, and so Deadlock made a name for trafficking illicit weapons throughout America's southwest. That meant things were a lot more dangerous than just the average roughhousing gang. It meant McCree had an even bigger chance of dying in any of these skirmishes they found themselves in.
But a year. An entire year passed by and not only did McCree live through it, but he became a notorious member of the Deadlock Gang. He wove his way up through the ranks faster than any of the members to date and that earned the ire of many longtime veterans. In a sting that involved the largest deal they'd ever had come their way, the group McCree was assigned to lead for his first (and likely final) time, he found himself completely overwhelmed.
It ended with the operation coming to a startling failure, with the majority of the gang making it out. However, Overwatch took a number of important figures into custody, including seventeen year old Jesse McCree. It introduced him first hand to Gabriel Reyes. He felt at odds, then; in some kind of eternal conflict. A McCree versus Them situation. He was all rage and spitfire, cocky arrogance that he knew got on Reyes' nerve. But somehow, despite being a complete ass and a fool, he found himself with an offer.
Either reform under Gabriel Reyes' tutelage or find himself tried as an adult, and locked up in federal prison for life.
McCree may be a fool, but he's no idiot. He took the deal, signed himself away, and was put on a probationary period in which Ana Amari and Reinhardt Wilhelm watched over him for the period of three months. Not only did he grow in those three months, but he excelled under Gabriel's guidance. It was tough love, and grueling work, but McCree found himself happiest in these times than he ever had. His time in Overwatch was one he treasured through even the worst of days because even those days held higher than the ones he spent in the desert, with barely any food to eat, and a group of people who hated his guts. Here, he actually felt a part of a family.
And, as they years grew darker, that thought scared the living hell out of him.
In the culmination of Overwatch's fall, and with Ana Amari's death on the head of it, Gabriel reached out to Jesse in his grieving state. He wanted him to join the ranks of Talon with him, find a better way to protect the world. Some bullshit. And, even if he didn't want to admit it, he saw Reyes lose his way over the years, saw the downhill turn, and the subsequent fall into oblivion. McCree's instincts kicked up. They begged him to flee and when he got the opportunity, McCree packed his bags and left. And he left for good.
For years he spent on the rails and the roads once more. Ten solid years of being a vagrant, being hunted, having his bounty bid higher and higher the longer he remained a threat to the welfare of the people. They wanted him dead and gone with the rest of Blackwatch. The UN just wanted to sweep everything under the PETRAS act and if it meant killed a few blackened members of Overwatch, then they'd do it.
And he was just on the verge of finally slipping up when the recall happened. McCree avoided it for as long as he possibly could. He didn't want to see their faces, the ones who didn't really know him, as they rejected his offer and turned him over. But, even if his gut told him otherwise, it didn't happen. They accepted him with open arms. They brought him in. They fed him, clothed him, let him bathe, and sleep.
But even in their hospitality, he keeps looking to the horizon, just waiting for the moment where it begs him to leave.
Oʀɢᴀɴɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Aʟɪᴀs Jesse McCree
Oʀɢᴀɴɪᴢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Aғғɪʟɪᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Overwatch; Ex-Blackwatch Agent; Ex-Deadlock Member
Bᴀsᴇ ᴏғ Oᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs Forks, Washington
Fᴏʀᴍᴇʀ Bᴀsᴇ ᴏғ Oᴘᴇʀᴀᴛɪᴏɴs Route 66
Overwatch HQ, Switzerland
Overwatch Base: Grand Mesa
Bᴀᴛᴛʟᴇ Tʏᴘᴇ / Rᴏʟᴇ Offensive
Cᴜʀʀᴇɴᴛ Oᴄᴄᴜᴘᴀᴛɪᴏɴ Overwatch Agent
Aʙɪʟɪᴛɪᴇs ⍟ Fan the Hammer
Something McCree is possibly most known for: his ability to unload a revolver that should be slow to fire. He can unload all six of his rounds in just about a second, if not a little under, with the trained and quick press of his palm against the cock of the gun. Doing this not only unloads all of his bullets, but also throws off his aim as even his mechanical arm isn't used to the combined wait of six immediate recoils from such a heavy pistol.
⍟ Combat Roll
A supposedly harmless ability, McCree rolls in any direction he wants. On the surface, it's a great method to dodge various attacks and reposition himself in a quick motion. However, there's more than he lets on - during his roll, McCree unloads and reload his six-shooter and once he falls out of the roll, he's all set and read to start unloading bullets a second time.
Wᴇᴀᴘᴏɴs ⍟ Peacekeeper
A six-shooter revolver, entrusted to McCree early in his Overwatch days. He's since kept it in pristine condition. Despite its low-rate of fire, it compensates for packing a heavy punch. Of course, that's in the hands of a regular shooter. Anyone with have a mind, his wits about him, and a quick wrist can empty Peacekeeper before even the first shot hits its mark. McCree can attest to the pistol's durability for how much he practices his quickdraw abilities with it.
⍟ Flashbang Grenade
Ain't nothin' wrong with a bit of dirty fighting. Jokingly referred to as Jesse's "pocket sand," his flashbang grenades pack a stunning wallop, giving McCree ample time to finish off anyone who dares get close. He keeps at least three to four of these on his belt.
⍟ Fists
The mechanical prosthetic's has to be good for something. For McCree, it's perfect for engaging in fisticuffs when he's had one too many to drink. Of course, in the heat of actual battle, if he needs to resort to hand-to-hand combat, he's got the grit and the experience to give up a good fight.
Uʟᴛɪᴍᴀᴛᴇ Aʙɪʟɪᴛʏ ⍟ Dead-Eye
Something McCree only pulls out in moments of desperation, for how hefty the side effect is on him. His vision hones in on the heads of each target within his line of sight, marking every individual he's looking to down in six-shots (and with how quickly he reloads, sometimes more). The less they move and the clearer vision he has on their hearts or their heads, the quicker and easier it is for McCree to line up a shot. For every unfortunate soul marked, Jesse shoots to kill - one bullet, one body. The secrets of such a nasty, brutal ability are under lock and key for good reason. Only one person in Overwatch used and knew of the ability and who taught McCree such.
Oᴛʜᴇʀ Boy does he have a sweet tooth, so much so that he has to keep it under control lest he gain some much unneeded weight.
Tʜᴇᴍᴇ Sᴏɴɢ Not For Me - Bobby Darin
