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The city was alive, streets filled with a sea of people so thick you could hardly breath. The old soldier pulled his scarf over his face, his face was that of a man long dead, but it was still one that was remembered, and that was not what he needed right now. Not with what he was searching for.
Not with the answers he was seeking.
He'd traveled from country to country, from Indiana to Moscow, from Nepal to here in Egypt, looking for the answers to the questions that had been plaguing him for nine years, ever since he had dragged himself bloody and broken from the wreckage of his old life and into the turmoil of the new. Nine years since he'd looked into the eyes of the person he trusted most, and that person spit in his face.
Nine years since they'd been lying crushed under a ton of concrete, and he'd put a gun to their head and pulled the trigger.
What was he searching for? An apology? Forgiveness? Or was he merely chasing a series of "what if's" through a series of "could have been's"? He'd given up on understanding that ever since he let his old name go, embracing his selfishness and letting it mold him into the man who pushed his way through a crowd now. In previous years he had tried to forget, to let the others pick up the pieces and focus on trying to feel alive again, traveling the world and picking his part in whatever conflict he could find. Gang warfare in Dorado, the Omnic war in Russia, wet work in Junkertown, wherever he could plant a seed of difference in the hope that it would bloom into something less ugly than what came before, he took.
Yet even with a career of bloodshed and regret, of trying to lose himself in trying once more to make the world a better place, he still couldn't forget that face that he used to adore, the one that he fought and almost died for. Those eyes permanently filled with joy, until they were filled with hate. Those lips curled in a smirk, until it was a scowl. That hand that used to so tenderly fit into his own, until it was squeezing down on his windpipe.
The old soldier knew that nothing good could come of seeking these answers, the answers to questions belonging to a man long dead, but this was what he needed to do. This was the last mission of Jack Morrison.
Then Soldier 76 could lay him to rest.
He despised not being able to wear his visor, but if his face was going to possibly give him away, that visor would leave absolutely no room for error. So he relied on his eyes, scanning through each of the hundreds of people that he passed, barely any room between their shoulders as he shoved his way through on the way to his informant, the end result of thousands of hours of work and searching. They seemed panicked when he asked them if they knew anything about The Reaper, though he supposed that was a justified reaction when you get contacted and asked if you have any information on the world’s most notorious terrorist. He'd be suspicious too. After some convincing, and a lot of wire transfers, he'd managed to get them to agree to a meeting, to be held in what was apparently one of the busiest market places in the world, a meeting that might mean everything, or might mean absolutely nothing. Either way, this was his last lead, after this he was done.
As he walked through the streets however, he couldn't escape the feeling that something was wrong, that he was being watched. While normally he would be content to chalk that up to paranoia, and he did know that he had problems with that, considering just who he was here to speak about, he felt secure in his knowledge that he was right. Still, he couldn't miss this meeting, not with everything riding on it, so he would have to feel secure thumbing the safety off the pistol in his coat and letting the grip of cold polymer comfort him.
He made his way out of the crowd, stepping into what looked like an ordinary coffee house, and given that not everyone was involved in the world of espionage, it likely was an ordinary coffee house. He spotted his informant instantly, back against the wall and facing the entrance, so at least he was experienced enough to get that right. He walked over, heavy boots echoing off the walls as the other patrons went about their business, before stepping in front and saying, "November."
The man looked up at him, replying with wide eyes, "Echo. You really came, I almost didn't think you would..."
76 grunted as he sat down opposite, old bones creaking with effort. "You thought? Or you hoped?"
"Hoped. You don't get it man, I shouldn't be talking about this." He looked around nervously. "For all I know they could be listening in right now."
76 reached over, hand lightly resting on the man's shoulder. "Kid, you need to relax. What's your name?"
"Ken. Ken Raymond."
"Well, Ken Raymond, I'm gonna keep you safe, alright? That's what I do, nothing's gonna happen to you today."
He didn't look convinced. "How can you be so sure?"
"I used to work with the man you're here to talk about, I know his playbook. I know how he works."
"Then how come you need my help to find him?"
He couldn't stop the smirk that came to his face, still finding some way to hold his old friend in esteem. "Because he knows how I'd find him too."
Ken blew a breath out, putting his head in his hands. "Alright I... Alright, let's just get this over with. What do you need to know?"
The soldier leaned forward, voice almost a whisper as he asked, "Where is the man known as Reaper?"
He didn't notice the heavy footsteps until they were right behind him, and by then it was too late. "How about right behind you?"
76 spun out of his chair, smoothly drawing the pistol and leveling it at the intruder’s head. Before he could fire a single round, a high-powered slug shattered the slide, almost taking his thumb off in the process, the recoil shattering his wrist. A hand clutched his throat, that feeling from nine years ago returning in full force as he was forced back into his seat. The Reaper took a seat right next to him, though his mask was gone, and so was the coat.
Today he was just Gabriel Reyes.
"Hey Jack. You look like shit." He chuckled to himself, looking over at Ken. "Good thing you're so easy to track, I've been wanting a meeting like this for a while."
"Please I... I don't know anything..." Ken was quaking in his seat, pupils blown wide with panic.
Reyes laughed maliciously, "That's the worst lie I've heard in a while, stick to the facts kid. Actually, I think I want this to be a private meeting."
"R-Really?"
"Yep." He extended his hand, pointing his index finger between Ken's eyes. Jack realized what was happening just a second too late. "Goodbye."
Ken's head didn't so much snap back as disappear from the jaw up, the wall behind him painting itself red as his body slumped in his seat. The other four patrons started to scream, only to fall limply to the ground as more round pierced through their hearts. Five kill shots in six seconds. That could only be one person.
Reyes clicked the communicator on his lapel. "Widow, thanks for making the room clear. Now pull out, I did mean private."
"Understood, Widowmaker extracting."
Jack looked between Reyes and the five bodies leaking their last onto the floor. "What makes you think I won't just attack you right now?"
"Because..." He held up what was quite clearly a detonator, Jack's heart dropped into his stomach. "I have charges planted all around the market, too many for a bomb squad to be able to take care of. One click and... Boom." He smirked. "Must be... What? Two thousand people at least out there right now? I know you've got some dirt on your soul, but can you really live with that?"
Jack hung his head, knowing when he had been outplayed. "What is it you want? Why go to all this trouble?"
"I could ask you the same thing." Reyes brought a foot up, shoving Ken's body off his chair before planting his feet in it. "Why are you so desperate to find me? It can't be because you want to kill me, otherwise you'd join up with those amateurs in their little Overwatch fan project." He shook his head. "Of course, that was always you wasn't it? Always so caught up in the past you couldn't see the present. Did you learn nothing from Switzerland?"
"All I got from Switzerland was a scar on my face and an obituary, what could I have possibly learnt from that?" He leaned forward, cradling his wrist. "Why did you betray us? Why... Why did you betray me?"
For the first time, Reyes dropped his smirk, his lips turning down in a frown as he thought over what he was going to say. "Does it matter Jack? It's been nine years, I'm not the same man you thought you knew back then, hell, I hadn't been for a long time before all that."
"It matters to me Gabe..." He let his eyes go pleading, his desperation for answers overruling his need to maintain control. "Why did you give up everything we'd built? Everything we'd had? Did... Did it all really mean nothing to you?"
"It meant everything to me." Reyes' eyes were sad, even as he tried to shrug it off. "But I was done Jack, I was done with taking orders, of letting everyone see that you were the golden boy. I was fed up with being labeled the dirty little secret when I was the one who deserved the acclaim. If you really cared about us then you would have seen that, you would have done something about that."
Jack sighed, "I didn't know... I thought... I thought we'd have each other's backs forever. You know, like the old days with Ana."
Reyes shook his head sadly. "Like I said, you were always too caught up in the past. You didn't see that the world had moved on, that they decided that I wasn't needed anymore. You didn't see the looks of adoration turn to looks of hate until I blew up that building around you, and even then you didn't know right away." He clenched his fist. "You thought that everyone would always care about saving the world, except you never thought about the company men that the UN turned into, or what wasting away in the shadows unappreciated did to men like me."
"If you could go back and do it all over... Would you?"
Reyes shrugged. "I don't know. What's the point in even thinking about it anymore anyway? The past is the past, and we're just two dead men that never let go of it. I think it's time we did." He lifted the detonator, Jack's eyes going wide.
"Gabe don't!"
He clicked the detonator.
Jack waited for the moment when the world shook, when his ears would be filled with that tremendous roar and the screams of the dead and dying. When his chest would be heavy with the feeling of having failed again. But it never came.
Reyes tossed the detonator onto the table, pushing his seat in and walking away. "I'm not a monster Jack. Somewhere in this thing that I've become, I'm still human. But this is the last time we meet, if I see you after today, I'll kill you." His voice was so quiet Jack almost thought it was meant for Reyes himself, "And for that I'll always be sorry."
Reyes walked out the door, leaving Jack alone with his thoughts, bitterly weeping at the table surrounded by death once more. After a few minutes to collect himself, he stood, walking towards the entrance.
Jack Morrison had walked into that place.
Soldier 76 had walked out.