[He watches him, he hears that sound, and of all things he shouldn't feel is an odd sense of accomplishment. It's been years--decades, by now, since Genji had been brought into Overwatch. Decades since that witch of a doctor had put him back together, decades since he'd brought Genji into Blackwatch. Where he channelled all that rage and betrayal into covert missions under the watching eye of the world. The jobs noone wanted to do, a close-knit little unit of people who didn't have a problem getting their hands dirty for the sake of the world.
He remembers seeing the ninja in a hospital bed, he remembers asking what happened, and he remembered the rage that built up in his throat when he was told that it was the ninja's own brother that had caused the mess they found him in. That his brother was to be exalted for his actions, that his family had ordered the kid dead.
He remembers saying he'd put a bullet in the man's knees if he ever met with him, and that he'd let Genji finish the job. Hearing, now, the choked up sound Hanzo makes, followed by the animated crash of the man's teacup as it hit the ground floors below--he shouldn't feel good about it.]
I was. You could even say that it existed because of me. [There's a sour sneer to that statement as he remains unmoving across from the man having a panic attack. He doesn't tear his eyes away from the man, his fingers still interlaced with themselves, resting against his own stomach.]
no subject
He remembers seeing the ninja in a hospital bed, he remembers asking what happened, and he remembered the rage that built up in his throat when he was told that it was the ninja's own brother that had caused the mess they found him in. That his brother was to be exalted for his actions, that his family had ordered the kid dead.
He remembers saying he'd put a bullet in the man's knees if he ever met with him, and that he'd let Genji finish the job.
Hearing, now, the choked up sound Hanzo makes, followed by the animated crash of the man's teacup as it hit the ground floors below--he shouldn't feel good about it.]
I was. You could even say that it existed because of me. [There's a sour sneer to that statement as he remains unmoving across from the man having a panic attack. He doesn't tear his eyes away from the man, his fingers still interlaced with themselves, resting against his own stomach.]
You don't look well. Maybe you should sit down.