#i miss living in california where succulents grow like weeds man

[razmahdaz-art]

Thunder Rolls Over The Rockys Chapter 1

       Hanzo Shimada’s family was relentless and merciless. Raising him from birth to be nothing but a cold blooded business man with a way of weeding out the weak that didn’t fit his family’s standards. But what truly forced Hanzo’s hand was when his father passed and the council of elders demanded that he eradicate his own brother. He’d finally had enough and the pair ran, going in separate directions. And Hanzo’s direction lead him to the most desolate place where the clan would never look, Midwestern America to a town called Gibralter, Montana. He doesn’t expect much at first, but with a more than welcoming community and bright eyed, wide smiled Cowboy may make this more enjoyable than he once determined.

Words: 3,084

The night was quiet. A rare quiet that settled in all the right ways, the feeling that as if the Earth itself was asleep. The night air whispering to the trees through every breath of wind that rolled through a forgotten canyon that stretched till the visable horizon. The road that rested high up on one edge was ragged and rarely traversed, the asphalt losing all paint while plants sprouted through the cracks on the borders where a year of man-made work meets mother nature’s centuries of carving. Pine trees both stood tall and fallen, bushes grew in wild patches, and rocks lay resting and marked by moss and scratch marks made from fauna that passed through time to time. The sky was decorated with stars that glistened like crystals, the milky way visible clearly against the soot black sky. No clouds dared to obscure the view, all being swept away from the expanse to make room for the piece of art millennia in the making.

It was such an odd sight, Hanzo mused. Growing up in the nest of bright city lights where every star was muffled by the gleaming blaze of artificial light, that seeing even one constellation was to be considered lucky. But looking up from where he stood, pulled over on the side of a high roadway, leaned up against a Jeep that had seen far better days, just done relieving himself after hours of travel with only occasional breaks, Hanzo has a moment to muse the idea of that he may enjoy living out in here.

Driving through the golden California and Nevada deserts, the rich and untouched forests of Idaho, the foreign wildlife he got the pleasure of glimpsing while traversing Yellowstone National Park, all of it mixed into a picture that he had long misinterpreted for years. He was always taught that the Midwest of America was a festering mess of “Hicks” and nothing but either flat plains or forests holding dangerous animals and people. He was pleasantly surprised to see it was more than just that. Even if he held quite a few hints of doubt, in this moment he felt a small tinge of optimism start to expose itself for this new venture.

He took one last deep inhale of the fresh air, savoring it as if it is the last breathe he might take before he wondered back around to the drivers side of the filthy dark blue Jeep and reclaiming his seat behind a well familiarized drivers wheel. The small clock on the radio displayed 10:48 pm as a song that had been long paused scrolled across the bottom of the screen. He pulled his seat belt over his torso and then pulled back onto the abandoned road to make the last miles of his journey. The trees blurred into a smear of green as he drove through the vast canyon. His headlights illuminated the long path in front of him, his window down to keep the cool air ventilating through the cabin, and tired eyes all work to help him find his way to his new home.

The digital clock read 1:32 am in obnoxiously green letters as Hanzo pulled his car into the long, non existent muddied driveway that branched from a secluded dirt road. As the vehicle shuts down and the lights dim, Hanzo overlooks the small wooden cottage that almost blends into the foliage around it, vines of Ivy grafting up the left side of the building that held a brick chimney. He yawned as he grabbed the duffel bag that sat in the front seat next to him for the entire length of his journey, deciding to get the remainder of his things tomorrow afternoon when he wakes up. His feet carried his numb body and sore back to the porch while his hand rummaged through his parsel for the house keys that accompanied the bungalow. The wooden steps creaked under his weight as he reached the leaf and pine needle covered porch and he unlocked the front door to finally see the inside of his new living space.

It held only the bare essentials, but it was still somewhat cared for. A plain, black sofa with a few matching chairs seated around a dust covered mahogany coffee table and all sat in front of a long neglected fireplace with a mantle that only held one small potted succulent. A large bay window was just off to the left, the same wall as the door, and curtains drawn over them that fail to block out the moonlight that shone in. A kitchen towards the back that held only the essentials with nothing more than a fridge, sink and gas oven where a small island acted as the barrier to a dining table that only held two chairs.

Hanzo closed the door behind him as he headed through the living area, dropping his bag on the couch as he marched by. He trudged up the short staircase and into a large open room that held a queen sized bed whose frame was made of logs, two wooden nightstands, and a small dresser that sat at the foot of the bed. Hanzo didn’t have to direct his body to do what it did next. He rapidly kicked off his shoes and jeans, before pulling back the surprisingly comfy bed sheets and his body exhaustively crashing into the mattress, his hands barely managing to drag the blankets over him before he passed out, sleep engrossing him for the first time in his new environment.

The night passed by and faded to day, and as quickly sleep grips Hanzo, he’s pulled back into consciousness seemingly just as quick.

He groaned as he’s jostled awake, daylight streaming in through the one large window that was framed by half drawn, cyan curtains. But the sun wasn’t the only thing that awoke him. The faint sound of knocking on the door downstairs had somehow penetrated Hanzo’s deep slumber. It was occasional and without much rhythm, but still an obnoxious constant. He sat up in the bed, his back stiff and tense from the constant driving, cracking when he twists his torso to help relieve the aches in his bones. His hands messed with the tangled mass of black hair that needed to be washed into a tight but ragged bun as he slowly crept towards the window to catch a glimpse of any life.

Sure enough, there was a small white truck parked outside along his Jeep, but it’s owner couldn’t be seen from this angle. He attempted to wipe the last remnants of exhaustion from his face as he threw on the pants he had worn last night so that he was decent when he finally met this mysterious welcoming party. His feet almost stumbled down the stairs as he came to finally answer the door.

Facing him was a blonde haired woman who wore comfy looking outside wear, a maroon V-neck, open collar shirt and a pair of shorts, her hand hovering in the air as if she was about to knock once more. For a moment she looks surprised, caught off guard assuming that she wouldn’t get an answer. She gives Hanzo one quick glance before offering a sweet smile to the new comer.

“Good Afternoon!” she greeted in a chipper tone. Hanzo was caught off guard for a moment by his own sleeping in. He’d never once in his life slept past nine am.

“Sorry for disturbing you, truly. I just saw you come in last night and i had to see who bought this old cottage,” She said in a thick Swiss accent, her hand running over the wood frame of the door. “My name is Angela Ziegler, I run the clinic in town. It’s always a pleasure to see a new face in town,” she greeted, her other hand extending to shake the muscular man in front of her.

“Shimada, Hanzo. It’s a pleasure to meet you as well, Ms. Ziegler,” Hanzo replied as he shook the other’s hand out of courtesy. Her grip is like a bear trap, strong and surprisingly so. He hadn’t expected it from a woman with such a small frame. She almost sneered at him, but a smile still adorned her lips.

“Now, Mr. Shimada, I did not go to six years of Med school to simply be a ‘Miss’,” She said with a small chortle. “I’ll let it slide this once, but I hope to be called Doctor in the future, alright?” Hanzo smiles a small bit before nodding and retracting his hand that now made its home in his jean pocket. “Of course, Doctor Ziegler. It won’t happen again,” he apologizes.

The Doctor looked over the expanse of the house, taking a few steps back on the porch to view it all, Hanzo even stepping out to see if she had found something he hadn’t. She looked over the cottage with a gentle fondness, as if happy that it was being inhabited now.

“You better thank Satya for getting this house ready for you, i haven’t seen her work that hard since the new residential street went up in town,” she said, her hands on her hips. Hanzo had remembered that the house was going to be cleaned up for his arrival, after all, this residence hadn’t been lived in since the early part of the decade. Ms. Vaswani was the one that had sent him the keys in the first place. And beside the lack of decorations and the use of minimal furniture, Hanzo can’t deny that it was all neat and comfy in it’s own way. He made a mental note to send a thank you note or walk in to personally thank her when he was settled.

Hanzo’s shoulders sank for a moment at the thought of unpacking even the few things he had brought with him. He looked back at the Jeep that held his belongings, and almost shuddered at having to drag all his belongings inside and sorting through them seemed somehow worse. Angela’s gaze joined Hanzo’s, examining the Jeep and knowing exactly what he was dreading. Her hand’s clapped together to knock them both out the shared gaze, before she started to make her way off the porch.

“Well, Mr. Shimada, as much as i’d love to stay and help, I should really get back to my clinic. Have to be there in case someone gets mauled by a bear or something,” she chuckled out in a charming excuse to get herself out of helping him unpack. Hanzo rolled his eyes at her jokes as she made her way back to her truck. Her hand already pulling the door open and her foot lifting her on the step. But over the hood she could peer a hint of red just past the tree line that connected to the dirt road, and the sound of a roaring engine echoed through the small patch of forest.

Hanzo had to take a few more steps off his porch, but never stepping onto the jagged ground without shoes, cautious to not get anything caught in the joints in his prosthetic. He stands on the balls of his feet to try and catch a glimpse of this mysterious vehicle that carried with it a monstrous roar. Angela’s hand waved at something that was just out of his site, and almost in an instant, a red blur flashed just past his driveway. His eyes were too slow to comprehend any detail about what had just passed them, but the noise didn’t dissipate. In fact, it seemed to be coming back, and from the way Angela’s head turned to see where it went as well as her hand still waving, it was all evident that he may get a chance to fully see what had just flashed by.

The roaring finally revealed itself, belonging to a bright cardinal red motorcycle that gleamed in the bright afternoon sun. It had a logo that had been jaded by time painted in white on the side of the tank, but from where he stood, Hanzo couldn’t make out exactly what it said. But the bike wasn’t alone. Atop it was a tall, built man with dark skin and an obnoxiously red serepe around his shoulders. As the bike shut down he swung his leg over the bike so that he may stand at full stature. This man was full cowboy, chaps, jeans, boots with a dusty hat placed atop his head with brunette, neck length hair that was wind swept and tangled with a wild beard to miss.

“Jesse, you aren't supposed to make U-turns on these roads,” Angela scolds while hopping off the step of her truck. She walks over to him with her hands on her hips, but gets repaid with a warm chuckle.

“Couldn't help myself, Doc. I just had to see who bought this little ol’ cabin,” this curious visitor said with a voice laced with the most stereotypical country drawl that Hanzo had ever heard.

Angela’s hand motioned towards the porch where Hanzo was standing, and Jesse’s gaze met his in an instant. Even from yards away, he could see that the cowboys eyes were a dark, charmingly warm brown that seemed to introduce Jesse for him. The spurs on the heels of his boots jingled as he waltz forwards to formally meet Hanzo face to face.

“Jesse McCree, nice to meet ya,” He said with an extended steel hand. Hanzo responded by shaking it in a firm grip similar to Angela’s before him.

“Hanzo Shimada. A pleasure,” the stoic man greeted. His eyes shifted to the bike once more, just for a glimpse before they joined back with Jesse’s. “I hope you are courteous when you go about riding that,” He says in a deadpan tone. As rude as it may have come off, the taller man’s smile turned to a smirk.

“No need to worry, I only ride it when I want to piss people off,” he retorted, his metallic forearm tipping the brim of his hat up just a tad. Hanzo’s arms crossed and his weight shifted to one leg, making his shorter than he already was, a small shit eating grin on his face. Jesse let out a low chuckle that came from deep in his chest before looking back at the bike.

“Don’t fret, I only ride during the day, if that’s what you’re worried about,” He answered sincerely. “Won’t ever have to worry about me wakin’ you up from your beauty sleep,” he teased with a small chuckle.

The small doctor stepped in for a moment, her hands on her hips, and giving a reassuring smile to Hanzo.

“Mr. Shimada, I can guarantee if you need anything, Jesse is always happy to help,” she said in an almost suggestive tone. Hanzo knew what she was doing, hoping to force McCree to help unpack as she make her escape. Jesse side eyed her with one of his bushy eyebrows raised before peeking into the barren house through the door that was left open behind Hanzo. Angela nudged McCree’s arm with her own before speaking once more. “I’m sure he’d be glad to help you settle in, if you need it,” she coyly said as she took slow steps back.

They watched her as she made a poor attempt of being subtle before Hanzo finally asked formally. “Jesse, would you mind helping me unpack?” Jesse took off his hat and bowed in an exaggerated fashion just for Angela to see.

“Hanzo, it would be my unforced and own willed pleasure,” He answered a tone of regality and boisterousness. The pair shared a laugh as Angela quickly returned to her truck and fly the coop before she was put to work. Jesse stood straight and placed his hat back over the mess of hair on his head and looked back at Hanzo. “Love Angela, great gal. But good lord does she hate heavy lifting,” Jesse gossips a bit with his thumbs looping in the belt loops of his pants.

Hanzo rushes in for a few short moments to grab his shoes before he joins the cowboy again, who’s serepe was folded over the leather seat of the motorcycle so that he may work without having to fiddle with it. Hanzo opens the door to the back seat so that they may get to removing the surprising amount of parcels and boxes that had made the trek with Hanzo all the way here. Jesse stacked some boxes high and began to carry them towards the abode while Hanzo carried a few bags. It took multiple trips before everything was placed in or near the living room ready to be reopened and assorted.

“Thank you, Jesse,” Hanzo said appreciatively. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and fixed his hair from where it had fallen out of its tight ponytail. Jesse rested his hands on his hips as he overlooked their work. “You’re welcome, it’s what a neighbors for,” he reassured.

Hanzo turned his head back to look at the cowboy. “Neighbor?” he inquired.

“Well, sorta. Live quite a few miles down but yeah, neighbor,” McCree replied, his hand gesturing back towards the road and back from once he came almost an hour before. “I own the small ranch at the end of the road. You ever wanna come up, you’re more than welcome,” Jesse invited.

“I may once I’m comfortable,” Hanzo says, dreading the second half of this process. He lets a small groan of disdain leave his lips as he turns to Jesse to thank him one more time. Jesse tips his hat in a polite manner. “Godspeed, Hanzo Shimada. Godspeed,” he says as McCree finally takes his leave. Hanzo replaces his position in the door frame and waves the other off, the engine erupting to life once more and then following the dirt trail that he intended to travel earlier.

Hanzo closes the door once he could no longer see his neighbor or his incredibly loud coloured bike. His eyes dragged over the work that awaited him and he felt his muscles physically tense. He kicked off his shoes once more, walking towards a small room besides the staircase while taking off his shirt and pants.

Before he started, he desperately needed to do one thing he hadn’t done for far too many days.

Shower.