[ The metal is indeed unyielding, and as Achilles meets him full-on, McCree finally just goes ahead and throws his weight into the thing. Obviously this guy can take it, and more, besides. He grits his teeth as he surges back, his metal fingers digging hard into Achilles's own, hard enough to break the bones of a lesser man. With this freshly applied zeal, he pushes, aiming as best he can to pin Achilles's arm to the rock.
Perspiration slicks his throat and chest anew from the effort his exertion, and he can feel his heart beating rapid in his chest, his pulse rushing like a waterfall. It's this kind of feeling that he's always lived for, that reckless space between danger and triumph, between crushing loss and, if not victory, then at least survival. He stares Achilles in the eye as he presses forward, and his own eyes glint--his right one, in particular, takes on a sheen of eerie blood red. ]
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Perspiration slicks his throat and chest anew from the effort his exertion, and he can feel his heart beating rapid in his chest, his pulse rushing like a waterfall. It's this kind of feeling that he's always lived for, that reckless space between danger and triumph, between crushing loss and, if not victory, then at least survival. He stares Achilles in the eye as he presses forward, and his own eyes glint--his right one, in particular, takes on a sheen of eerie blood red. ]