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Chapter Text

All things considered, he should have realized it was a trap.

Soldier:76 had stood in front of the supposedly-abandoned warehouse, having gotten wind of the location of some Overwatch tech from (now obviously suspicious) passers-by. He’d only thought about it for a minute before he approached.

It had all been so awfully convenient. The lock had been trivially easy to pick, and even after a few furtive steps in, no alarms had been tripped. It had been frighteningly quiet, with the armored vest he’d been hunting sitting out like it was on display in a museum. After months of sleeping mere hours on the streets every night, he’d made the fatal mistake of thinking that maybe, for once, things were just that easy.

Of course, nothing in his life could be easy for long.

Soldier:76 had dropped his guard entirely, rushing in to get the equipment and get out, so that hopefully that night he finally could make it to a safehouse for some well-deserved rest. A lack of oxygen blurred his thoughts, made him too brave, made his breaths echo and blood pound in his ears. Even the display of his visor was dimmed, running off the last dregs of its reserve power.

He couldn’t even sense it as upwards of 20 Talon agents circled him, cutting off all avenues of escape. They were silent, but not enough to normally escape his notice, especially as the soft crackling of tasers finally reached his brain, the jingling of dog tags splitting it in two.

As a “super soldier” ( god , he hated that term) he could normally take them on, but a combination of his exhaustion and- as much as he hated to admit it- his age, he found himself curled up in the corner of the warehouse, near bleeding out from the side of his head, the world dark and suffocating as his mask lay shattered beside him.

He’d fought like a cornered animal. Carelessly. He clutched his empty pulse rifle to his chest, the heated metal the only thing keeping his rapidly chilling body warm.

Well, he was old. He was supposed to have died decades ago, and maybe that was just the truth catching up to him. Soldier: 76 couldn’t count how many of the agents he’d taken out, but he knew he was easy prey for even one.

His body tensed up sharply and then deflated as he felt metal and hot air on his neck.

“So, the infamous Soldier: 76 decided to show up alone. Cocky, aren’t we.”

“Just get on with it.” He wheezed out, holding his chin up and baring his throat for the finishing blow.

“Is that all you have to say?”

“What else is there to say?”

“An apology, perhaps?”

“You Talon guys sure have a weird sense of humor.” Soldier:76 half grinned, half gritted his teeth in pain. “Sorry for killing all your friends.”

“Don't you remember who I am?”

“Am I supposed to? If we did meet before, I'm pretty sure you wouldn't have survived.”

Reaper frowned at that.

Something felt off. Crouching down, he grabbed the vigilante’s chin, turning his face over roughly in gloved hands to examine it.

Cloudy blue eyes.

He scoffed, tracing a sharp claw down Soldier:76’s throat to rest on his twitching Adam’s apple. The man's breaths were weak, the unmistakable scent of death drifting out of his slackening mouth.

It was all too familiar, but this time he was the one on his feet, pistol ready in his hand. As it should have been. The heady, delicious smell of revenge and lifeblood swirled through his body, and he could feel all his cells heating up and trembling as he inhaled Soldier:76’s vitality.

Soldier:76’s face was growing ashen now, dark scars becoming more stark on his paper-translucent skin. He leaned back on the wall behind him, veins popping in his forehead to maintain his dignity and stay upright. His slow breaths rattled his whole body.

“The hell’re you waiting for.”

His ears strained, anticipating the soft click of a trigger and the wet thump of a body hitting the ground. He could already picture Soldier:76’s body lying prone, finally quiet, finally gone. He pressed the barrel of his gun to the other man’s forehead. Soldier:76’s eyes closed, almost serenely, and his shoulders relaxed, heaving just barely against the concrete.

Reaper hesitated.

Soldier:76 cracked open a useless eye. “Put me out of my misery already.”

Limply he clattered to the ground.

Reaper growled, heaving the unconscious man’s body over his shoulder. It was disturbingly light.

“I hate it when you give me orders.”

Chapter Text

He felt peacefully warm, but if this was the afterlife, it was surprisingly dark and hard.

“You’re awake.”

The same voice from earlier came from above him, and he slowly became aware of tight cloth bindings around his arms, along with what felt like a (useless) blindfold slipping down his nose. Soldier:76 groaned softly as he rolled over on the dusty wooden floor, hearing it creak painfully under his weight. His shallow breaths still tasted like blood, and an intensifying ache crept over him.

“There’s nothing to gain from keeping me alive.” Soldier:76 mustered the energy to gasp.

“Save it.”

Reaper yanked Soldier:76 to his feet, but the man just crumpled, hissing raggedly in pain. Alarmed, Reaper immediately let him go, causing Soldier:76 to fall audibly onto his face.

"Is this how Talon does torture?”

“I’m not from Talon.”

“What, you trying to take out competing vigilantes?”

That made Reaper snort. “I’m not a vigilante either.”

“Well,” Soldier:76 rolled onto his back shakily. He still had that crooked smile on, and Reaper’s chest filled with ugly, burning frustration. “What do you want from me, then?”

That stopped him in his tracks. Honestly, he didn’t know. Maybe it didn’t feel right to execute a man who was cowering like a kicked dog - but Reaper wasn’t exactly known for his honor, and Soldier:76 had been more than ready to accept his death. Maybe he wanted a good fight - but he remembered the burning desire for revenge in his heart, the second he saw Soldier:76 on that news channel. Maybe he just wanted to toy with his prey - but then, what could he really call this?

All he knew was, it was absolutely, positively not sentimental.

“Your name.” Reaper found himself saying, feeling lost.

Soldier:76 actually looked taken aback at that, mouth stretching in a thin line. Reaper could almost hear the gears clicking. “I'm just a soldier.”

“I said, your name.”

“Weren't you going to kill me?”

“No!”

“I don't have a name.”

“I know it's you, Jack. Morrison.” He corrected himself. His skin crawled anxiously under his clothes. Soldier:76’s split lip twitched at that, despite his silence.

“I don't know who that is.”

Reaper churned angrily. You always were a terrible liar. Black smoke clouded his vision, tendrils curling into Soldier:76's nostrils and making him gasp hoarsely. “You're still my prisoner.” He whispered dangerously, flaring when the only response he got was a shrug.

“Wouldn't be much of a prisoner if I were obedient.”

“I will rip it out of your throat.”

“Do it, then. I'm not scared.”

“Haven’t you heard of the Reaper?”

“No.”

They were clearly at an impasse. Reaper’s boots slammed on the floor as he stood up. He wanted so badly to scream and shake him, but he found his temper oddly subside into no more than mild annoyance. He’d waited, watching, for Soldier:76 to wake up for a better reason, anyway. Reaper tugged at his elbow. “On your feet.”

“Why?”

“You stink.”

Soldier:76 shrugged again. Three weeks of sleeping under wet newspapers and people’s porches would do that, though the promise of a hot shower pushed out all other thoughts in his mind. He allowed himself to put all his weight onto the other man, stumbling and landing on his knees when he was let go.

“Can’t you stand on your own?”

Soldier:76 sputtered out a hacking laugh, and it echoed off the floor hollowly. “Your friends did a number on me.”

“They’re not… ugh.” Reaper was sick of talking. He slung the other man over his shoulder again, Soldier:76’s fingers tightening on his coat as he softly wheezed, trying to reorient himself in the air. His bound wrists flopped weakly against Reaper’s back as he was carried.

Reaper’s bathroom was small and dingy, much like the rest of the abandoned apartment he normally hid out in. Setting Soldier:76 down, he tested the bathtub faucet, pleasantly surprised when water spurted out and started flowing. The slums his apartment in left a lot to be desired, but at least the corporation who owned it didn’t care to see who- if anyone- was living in them.

He let the water run off his glove, wincing as the heat agitated the tender skin underneath. The windowless room became humid as he drew a bath, and dark as haze rose from the seams in his clothing to twist with white steam.

Soldier:76’s head was slightly lolling, attempting to balance with his weakened body. With quick strides Reaper made his way over, righting him curtly. There was no way to get his clothes off without removing his restraints.

“If you try to run, I’ll kill you.”

Soldier:76 merely nodded in response, lifting his arms weakly to be released. He was pacified by the thought of blessed hot water on his skin, something he hadn’t felt in months. Reaper removing his jacket drew his attention. “Can do it myself.” He slurred out, pulling away from the other man’s touch.

“You’re not really in a position to be making demands.” Reaper muttered, but relented. Lifting Soldier:76 by the waist, he heaved him over to the edge of the bathtub and set him down on the floor. Without any more words he strode out of the bathroom, slamming the door behind him.

His hands burned where Soldier:76’s heavy leather jacket laid in them. He threw it into a closet, feeling like he’d been bitten, and stalked back into the bedroom.

What the hell was he doing? If he was in a right state of mind, he should march back into the bathroom and put bullets through Soldier:76’s- Jack Morrison’s- skull, not let him bathe like a welcomed guest. “He’s the reason you’re like this.” Reaper muttered, trying to convince himself, and his back clenched and writhed in response.

The hollow sound of porcelain being stricken broke him out of his thoughts. His heart beating sickly in his chest, he dashed to the bathroom, throwing open the door. Soldier:76 hadn’t even made it into the bath, an arm and his head drooping into the bathtub, face inches from the water, his clothes half off like he’d been melting out of them.

Reaper fell to his knees in front of the man, shaking his shoulder in a panic. “Hey. Hey! Wake up!”

He didn’t move. The pit of Reaper’s stomach turned icily. He tilted Soldier:76’s head back. Mustering his strength and resolve, he took a deep breath, feeling his fingers grow numb and empty as he exhaled hot, vital breath into the other man’s lungs.

No response. His pulse was weak on Reaper’s thumb, the skin of his neck feeling thick and clammy. Soldier:76 didn’t even flinch as he was slapped across the face. One more time. One more time. Reaper lost feeling up to the shoulder now, to the hip, trying to push energy back into the other man’s body.

Relief washed over him as Soldier: 76’s arm finally twitched, his head jerking upwards as he started breathing again, shallowly. “What the hell happened?!” Reaper was yelling, senseless hands sandwiching Soldier:76’s head between them.

Soldier:76 shrugged. “Too hot.” 

Reaper could hardly believe that this feeble, helpless... creature was someone he once knew. He pulled Soldier:76 to his feet under the arms more gingerly than he’d have liked (his hands were just still numb) and pulled off the remnants of his clothes with one hand. He removed the loose bandage that was slipping down Soldier:76’s face, wincing slightly at the amount of dried blood that dropped off of it, before plopping him into the bathtub. He left the door cocked open so that cool air could pour in.

The claws that scratched at his scalp were surprisingly gentle, and Soldier:76 found himself relaxing sleepily as the sweet smell of soap filled the room. His whole body jolted when his cheek was slapped, kicking water up out of the tub. “Stay awake. Don’t pass out again.”

Soldier:76’s body was entirely covered in scars, some clearly fresher than others. “Close your eyes.” Reaper commanded as he soaped up his hands, lathering the other man’s weary face. A gentle spark of recognition coursed through him as he traced his brow down to his jaw, and for a moment he was possessed with the urge to take off his gloves to feel just how wrinkled and hard the skin was now. He held his breath until it passed and moved on.

Reaper could see now the bullets lodged in Soldier’s shin that prevented him from walking. Small, but he figured it would be best for him to leave those alone, at least for now. His hands roved down striped and puckered skin, slowing as he slid the pads of his gloves along the cluster of spots on Soldier:76’s ribcage. Thoughtfully he rubbed it, Soldier:76 shifting away ever so slightly.

Jack had been ticklish there. Reaper banished those thoughts immediately. But he couldn’t help the electricity that ran through him as he scrubbed Soldier:76’s body clean, his hands lingering just a bit too long. It’s keeping him quiet. Reaper reasoned, drawing foamy circles across Soldier:76’s chest and back.

He dropped now to Soldier:76’s gently rising belly, a bright horizontal scar near-glowing in the water. Reaper was grateful for the grime clouding the bath as he made short work of Soldier’s legs, lifting them out of the water to soap him around his bullet wounds. His gloves were heavy with water when he resurfaced, and he took a moment to wring his clothes out as the dirty water loudly drained from the bath.

Soldier:76 was reaching out of the tub, feeling for his clothes. Reaper angrily slapped his hands back before tying his wrists up again, not that it mattered- he was pretty sure the other man wouldn’t get even a few steps out of his place before collapsing. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

“You’re soaked.” Soldier:76 pointed out in lieu of a response.

Limply he allowed himself to be carried back to the bedroom, his body unconsciously relaxing as practiced hands bandaged his new injuries with military efficiency. He was slipped into clothing that was made of leather and definitely not his, but he could hardly complain. At least it smelled clean, and if his captor was going to kill him now, at least he didn’t feel like an animal.

Soldier:76 fell back, surprised, as he was wrapped in heavy, warm comforters.

“Sleep.”

With a weak nod Soldier:76 relaxed his body, gratefully obeying. In but moments he looked peaceful, maybe even content.

A glassy glint of orange reflected in the closet.

Maybe Reaper wanted to see that expression on Jack Morrison’s face again, the one of abject betrayal. Maybe he wanted him to feel the same way he himself had for years. So he would get Soldier:76’s visor fixed, so he could see just what he’d made his best friend into. And then he would finally kill him.

He would.

Chapter Text

Soldier:76 awoke, terrified and exhausted, feeling like someone was sitting on his chest.

He struggled, wrestling out from under his assailant with soft, shuddering gasps. His skin was slick with cold sweat, sticking more painfully to his tight clothing as he tossed. The scent of gunpowder and smoke filled his lungs like syrup, and though he wanted badly to scream, only shreds of oxygen were left in his lungs. Instinctively he fought the wildfire wrapping around his body, clenching and unclenching his fists to maintain feeling. His teeth ground audibly to suppress the cauterizing feeling in his legs and chest, his shock finally wearing off and giving way to unbearable burning.

The weight returned, curling around him like a python. Soldier:76 flailed with all his strength against it, his brain screaming at him to not die.

A faint disapproving noise came from somewhere above him, and he raised his hand to meet with heavy, thick material. The scent finally registered as leather.

There was a rush of air as Reaper flinched away from him. “You were shaking.” He muttered quickly, snatching his coat away to put it back on. When Soldier:76 turned to him, he looked away, feeling less like those wide, milky blue eyes could see him and more like they could see right through him. He endured the fact that Soldier:76’s feverish body heat was transferring to him now through his own coat.

Feverish. Reaper’s eyes slid down to Soldier:76’s legs, trembling weakly under his thin sheets. The man tried as hard as he could to hide it, but as soon as Reaper pulled back the bandages, the worsening damage was obvious. The gaping holes in his swelling legs were turning black as they tried to rapidly heal, and sickly off-white pus dripped around the edges.

First, he needed to get those bullets out. Reaper internally groaned as he realized he should have done it sooner rather than later, and he really shouldn’t have given him a bath. Well, it wasn’t like Soldier:76’s comfort was at the top of his mind anyway.

“Don’t move.” Replacing the sheets and wrapping his coat around Soldier:76’s body again, Reaper went to retrieve the first-aid kit in the bathroom. He noted that they would be out of bandages soon. Soldier:76 was shivering in earnest when he returned, pulling heavy black leather around him weakly as beads of sweat dripped down his scarred brow.

Reaper sat down on the bed next to him, staring at the contents of the first-aid kit with strained concentration. It had been a very, very long time since he had to take care of a wound, but with a deep breath, he found that his movements were near-automatic.

A vague memory of some combat medicine training floated to the top of his mind. Soldier:76 was lucky he healed faster than a normal human, or else bandages and bullets may not be the only things Reaper was removing. He applied harsh pressure above the wounds, the wince on Soldier:76’s face making him queasy with sick satisfaction.

With his teeth, Reaper removed a glove, his hand and arm spinning with agitated black mist as it was exposed to the open air. “Open your mouth.” He commanded, and in delirious pain Soldier:76 obeyed, biting down on the glove as it hit his tongue. Reaper let his hand relax until it was almost see-through, and then turned his attention back on Soldier:76’s injuries.

Soldier:76 flinched with more energy than Reaper had ever seen from him as he guided his hazy fingers into the holes. The bullets hadn’t splintered too much upon entry, which he was thankful for as he closed his hands around it and pulled it out, throwing it haphazardly on the floor. It rang and bounced, leaving tiny spatters of blood on the wood. Soldier:76 was softly growling, gums visible as he tried to distract himself from the pain.

“Six more.” Not really encouraging . With a cotton ball and forceps, he rubbed the wound with a healthy amount of antiseptic, the white coming away bright red. That too went on the floor. Reaper reached in again, making Soldier:76’s shoulders shake violently, his breaths wild and agonizing. “Five. Four.”

“ Hurry. ” Soldier:76 choked out desperately, white-knuckled fists balled up in the side of Reaper’s shirt. Something shut off in Reaper’s brain.

His hands moved into autopilot as he removed the rest of the bullets, each clink making Soldier:76 visibly relax. Blood was flowing freely onto the bedspread: the only one he had, no less. Soldier:76 was just going to have to deal with it. He knew it would heal soon anyway.

Finally he finished, padding the holes with gauze and wrapping them tightly with the last of his bandages. There wasn’t enough to take care of the gash in Soldier:76’s head. He’d deal with that when he got back. Reaper lifted himself carefully off the bed, returning quickly with odd objects with which to elevate Soldier:76’s legs. He only had one pillow, after all.

Reaper kicked the stray bullets under the bed, plunking his cargo onto the floor unceremoniously. He tugged out some ripped clothing, anything that didn’t look too blood-crusted. As Reaper unwrapped the bandages  around his head Soldier:76 all but leaned into his touch. The wound looked puckered and purple but thankfully, not too terrible. Clinically he dabbed it with disinfectant, feeling calmer as Soldier:76’s pain-crinkled eyes spared him for a few precious moments.

He wrapped the scraps of torn clothing around Soldier:76’s head, leaning back to see the results. It probably wouldn’t be good enough. “Done. Lie down.”

Soldier:76 let out a long breath at those words, dropping his hands lamely to his sides. Pain and exhaustion still rippled through his numbed mind, but the strong, warm scent of fabric around his head and back took the edge off. Gingerly he let himself slide back, nestling into Reaper’s coat with animal instinct as fever shook his body. The fire in his legs subsided slightly as they were elevated.

Soldier:76 mumbled a strangled thanks, his brain slipping into blackness. His fingers in Reaper’s shirt grew limp and his shallow breathing grew even. Disentangling himself, Reaper stood, a faint memory niggling at him.

His hand was on Soldier:76’s forehead. He drew away like he’d been burnt. “You’ve got a mission.” Reaper reminded himself, considering pulling his coat out from under the other man. He turned and left instead.

Chapter Text

“We’re working together again.” Was the first thing he heard the sniper say to him. The next, accompanied by a smack from the barrel of her rifle, was: “Fool. You’re distracted.”

Reaper scowled from behind his mask. “Can it. I’m not.”

Widowmaker looked over her shoulder at him coolly, leaning on the open frame of the helicopter they were in. He wouldn’t admit it, but he couldn’t remember getting in. It was less high tech and funded than Reaper was used to, but he recalled Talon promising a lot of bloodshed, so he had taken the assignment. Only three or four Talon agents joined them, keeping to themselves in the side seats, their metal masks glowing red from the sides of his vision as they turned towards him.

Widowmaker shrugged suddenly, turning to stare out at the city below them. “As long as you do your job.”

“I don’t need you to tell me that.” Reaper grumbled.

He snapped to consciousness again in the middle of a fight, the hot smell of blood mist making his pupils dilate. Eight guards lay facedown in front of him, life heat steaming out of them in the chill night. His movements felt lighter than usual, but somehow his body felt heavy.

A slight shiver ran through him as a cold breeze washed over his bared arms. Reflexively he tried to pull his coat more tightly around himself, but grasped only air. He remembered Soldier: 76 had it, was all tangled up in it looking uncharacteristically fragile, and then he remembered a soft flash of gold and black in the morning sun, a distant memory of warm skin and breath.

“ Fall back .” Widowmaker’s voice was stern in Reaper’s ear. A bullet barely grazed past him, black smoke swirling in its wake. Their vanguard of Talon agents lay scattered, fallen ahead of them. Vaguely Reaper wondered if his own stray shots had hit them.

Reaper could hear many, many more footsteps in the building in front of them now. He shook himself a little and took a step forward, fresh guns glinting in the low lamplight. More bodies heavily hit the floor as he advanced inside, the hallways snugly pressing guards to the barrel of his shotguns. Like ants, more guards filed in behind him. Talon hadn’t lied.

“You are being reckless. Why? Fall. Back.”

“Not like I can die, and it’s too late to be stealthy.”

“It is exactly the right time. I will not repeat myself again.”

“Reposition if you want a piece of the action.”

“Have you forgotten the mission?”

“This is the fastest way to complete it.”

Widowmaker scoffed at that. “‘Fast.’ How unlike you. Curious.”

“I have somewhere to be.” He found himself saying petulantly, and he could picture the arch of Widowmaker’s eyebrow from the soft breath over the comm.

There was a rush of staticky wind in his ears, and a fresh corpse fell heavily onto him from behind. Another man fell, Widowmaker’s automatic rifle filling his body with steaming bullets, clearing a path for Reaper to see her judging silhouette in the doorway. “The grave?”

Talon sure reprogrammed Amelie with jokes, didn’t they. He scowled. “Let’s just get this over with.”

Widowmaker shrugged and lowered her visor, motioning for him to continue. Reaper was glad to not have to see her eyes.

“Three on your left, one coming from ahead.”

“Got it.”

The two of them advanced steadily through the building, four shots and four bodies to every step. Their objective was on the top floor- of course it was- and Reaper felt restless from their pace. He appreciated Widowmaker’s support, but at this proximity he could hardly afford to shoot as wildly as he wanted to. Graceful as she was, they weren’t in-sync enough for her to dodge his bullets. Reaper could be reckless on his own, but her too-slight shoulder felt unreliable.

“This floor is clear. Thirty-two on the next. What are you hiding?”

“What? Nothing. Leave me the fuck alone.”

She was silent in the stairwell, and her heels were strangely soft against the stone floor, but gears were turning all-too loudly in her head.

Widowmaker wouldn't be able to get anything out of him, and they both knew it well. Not without good reason, and especially not when the truth of Reaper’s last report was on the line. He was hardly afraid of Talon, but being on their good side had definitely afforded him a lot of indulgences. He did like his indulgences.

“One flanking. Two approaching. Where is your coat?”

Three swift gunshots. She had only brought it up now, but Reaper understood Widowmaker had to have noticed the moment he'd stepped foot on the rendezvous point. “None of your goddamn business. I was hot.”

“There is a chill tonight. Your left.”

“You sure aren't dressed like it.”

“Sixteen reinforcements coming from behind. It is not I who is cold.”

“Well, I'm hot.”

“Two more before the stairs.” Was Widowmaker’s only response. Reaper prickled, agitation flowing through his body, petulantly desperate to defend himself.

She let him stew deliberately, through fifteen floors of nothing but commands and combat. But Reaper was prideful, not stupid, so he bit his tongue. He was finding his rhythm now. His body heated up as it filled up with angry life energy, down to his fingertips, making them tingle with vigor. It made him even more ravenous, his senses sharpened like a shark.

Working with Talon allowed him this, spilling as much blood as he wanted, having to think of nothing but killing and retrieving some worthless memento or, if he was lucky, seeing the fear in some rich politician’s eyes drain out through their skull. It made him feel like himself again, having a mission to fixate on, getting a break from thinking about Overwatch and the thousand ways his organization had failed him, how Jack Morrison had failed him, how he was presently curled up in his bed around his jacket like a cat looking peaceful like those precious few Sunday mornings, all too long ago.

“Fool!” Widowmaker hissed, a sick metallic crunch coming from behind him. Reaper’s eyes scanned the trajectory of the bullet before breaking a window with the butt of his shotgun. The top of the building was cold and windy, even as Reaper wrapped his arm around the other sniper’s neck and spattered steaming blood over his bared arms.

“I told you to pay attention.” Widowmaker’s voice was low with anger, the woman now melting into the darkness in a corner as Reaper returned. The lights in her visor were sparking brightly, illuminating her skin with yellowish light.

She was still mortal, no matter how often Reaper forgot. He gritted his teeth with shame. Losing Talon grunts were one thing; losing their prized sleeper agent was quite another. “... I’m sorry.”

Widowmaker’s chin flicked up, rare surprise plain on her face. “Sorry?”

“... don’t get used to it.” Reaper turned on his heel, the movement much less dramatic without his coat. “Stay here. You’re of no use right now.”

That snapped her out of it. “Focus this time.”

“Shut up.”

Reaper could more than handle himself, but he was still grateful he was almost at the top of the building. There were fewer guards as he ascended: they had likely come down as reinforcements to try and stop them before they got this far. He quickened his pace, wanting nothing more than to finish the mission and return home. They should have sent me alone.

The weapon safely in his charge, he made his return to Widowmaker. A faded Overwatch symbol was on the handle of the gun, and scratched off silver as he ran his claws over it. No doubt he would’ve had an encounter with Soldier:76 had the man not been in his own safehouse. A fight in close, dark quarters like this would have reminded him of their days in training.

“No complications?”

Reaper walked to the shattered window, rematerializing on the top of the next building instead of responding. Widowmaker shortly followed suit with her grappling hook, landing catlike beside him with her heels digging into the back of the fallen sniper. She turned up her nose, scraping her shoes on whatever clean concrete she could find. “Must you always make such a mess?”

“Do you ever shut up?”

Still, he couldn’t mistake the half smile playing on her lips as she passed him to sit in one of the side seats, to fiddle with her broken visor in her lap. She’d procured a screwdriver from god-knew-where. Widowmaker seemed to be in a fairly good mood, all things considered. The space in the helicopter where the now fallen lower-ranked Talon agents normally stood was filled instead with as much silence as a helicopter could muster. He realized might not get another chance.

“You know a lot about those, right?”

“‘Those?’”

Reaper tapped his forehead. “That.”

“My visor?”

“Yeah. Could… could you fix one more? If it’s not the same kind?”

“How suspicious.” Widowmaker pulled in close, conspiratorily, threateningly. “I may not report you if tell me what this is about. But if you continue to keep secrets, I will .”

He had a perfectly legitimate reason for his request. Reaper had no idea why he was so unsettled before, but the way that Widowmaker’s eerie golden gaze pierced him made his skin crawl. “I have Soldier: 76 under house arrest. His visor was shattered in our encounter.”

Widowmaker’s eyes narrowed. “You were sent for him, and he still lives. Why?”

Reaper paused for far too long. “He’s… blind. I want him to look me in the eye when I put a bullet between his.”

Widowmaker studied him, expression unreadable and unblinking, for what felt like an eternity. She was the only person in the world who he felt was closer to a corpse than he was, but he managed to hold himself steady.

“I am not concerned with your personal affairs.” Swiftly Widowmaker stood, moving to lean in her usual spot so that her ponytail flicked straight in the wind like a dagger.

“So?”

“Yes, yes. I will do it. Bring it to me.”

Orange. Blue. He could feel what was left of his heart beating faster, watching the clouds and buildings coast by through the window. The breeze whipping through the open door nipped at his arms, and he thought of his warmed coat and its familiar embrace.

“Remember.” Widowmaker’s voice suddenly ripped through his thoughts. A breath got caught unbidden in his throat. “I am trusting your judgement.”