Masque of the Red Death

[moonshadows]

Everything set? Reaper asked silently as he handed Sombra the drive with the stolen blueprints on it. Communicating through his nanites to her augmentations wasn’t as easy as speech, but it was absolutely secure.

Don’t worry, everything’s been set for a month. The spiders are at the center of the web. Out loud, she said, “Your ship is ready, Reaper.”

“Excellent.” He began stalking towards it, Sombra following.

You’re sure you can handle him? He’s not exactly an idiot. “He’s expecting you at twenty-three-hundred hours.”

Reaper snorted. For the brief time he’ll be with us, yes. He’ll maneuver for position first; he won’t expect to be maneuvered against. “I’ll be there.”

Sombra fell back and stopped, watching Reaper climb up the ramp. We believe in you.

The flight was silent, giving Reaper time to think their course of action through one last time before they embarked on it.

After his encounter with the omnium in Mexico that left him the boss of his nanite swarm rather than being at SEP’s mercy, he’d secretly been a friend to omnics. Blackwatch had been responsible for sneaking at-risk omnics out of hostile areas during the entirety of Overwatch’s golden years, forming several omnic communes in remote parts of various countries. Some of them worked hand in hand with struggling human communities. Apparently, that got him a good enough reputation that a representative of the Mexican omnium contacted him to tip him off about certain things – most notably, Null Sector’s antics. After shit went to hell, he went to one of the hidden omnic communes to take stock of things and solidify his plans for joining Talon. He’d also recruited an ambitious and clever omnic who, it turned out, not only agreed with and approved of his plans, but had already clawed his way fairly high up into the organization. It wasn’t until he’d joined as Reaper that he actually met his contact, the snarky hacker who went by ‘Sombra’, and learned that she and Maximilien had been working on a similar plan of their own.

They’d declared him the least-bitter of the three and appointed him the strategist; although they both were clever and conniving, neither of them had the flair for long-term planning that he did. So they plotted together, but all they could do was make preparations until the last head of Talon was out of prison and on the playing field. But now that time was approaching, and it was on Reaper to eliminate the other heads so they could fight fire with fire, and use the same shadowy organization that had ruined the world to make the world a better place.

It was easy to take out the two armored guards and park the ship, then it was just waiting for their ‘guest’. Finally, he stalked out wearing nothing but loose pants and a white tank top.

“You’re late,” Reaper pointed out dryly.

Akande didn’t rise to the bait. “I was delayed,” he said simply. “Let’s get going.”

=

Akande asked about the Volskaya mission – who had ordered it, how it went. Then he brought up the Mondatta assassination and segued into the Uprising.

Who would have thought Overwatch would get involved, Akande asked rhetorically. It sounded like a trap, so Reaper changed the subject and informed him that he’d already taken a few names off the partial Overwatch database he’d retrieved.

“Morrison and Amari?” the bigger man asked, not looking at Reaper but watching out of the corner of his eye.

Definitely a trap. Reaper couldn’t be sure who knew or suspected what.

“No,” he growled. “Not yet.”

“I hope you’re not feeling sentimental.”

More traps, more bait. He knew the name Reaper refused to think about.

“No.” It wasn’t a lie; sentimentality was a weakness for something you’d tried to put behind yourself. To feel sentimental towards Morrison and Amari, Reaper would have to have pledged himself wholly to Talon’s cause, and he hadn’t.

“We can deal with that later,” Akande said, hinting that he hadn’t completely bought Reaper’s act. “First, I want to speak with Maximilien.”

Behind the mask, Reaper smiled.

=

Widowmaker’s alterations were…complex. She did not have completely free will, but neither was she merely obeying commands. Unfortunately for the ones who thought they alone held her chain, both Sombra and Reaper had been able to replicate the secure and unique signal that triggered her obedience. Interestingly, Sombra reported, Akande seemed unaware that such a leash even existed. Her playback of Akande’s conversation with Max was even more amusing.

“Is everything ready for Venice?” she teased as she concluded her report.

Reaper snorted and tossed her a garment box. “Of course.”

Sombra grinned at him. “I can’t wait.”

=

Venice went like clockwork.

Having convinced Akande that he and Sombra would not rock the boat, and that Widowmaker had come around to their side, the three of them made short work of the armed ‘companions’ the fool who thought he was running Talon had brought in to keep anyone from doing exactly what they were going to do. Akande took a direct, hands-on approached and deposed the would-be leader by pitching him over the side of the bridge leading to the oh-so-secure building, the neutral ground on which all the surviving heads of Talon were about to meet.

Sixteen chairs around the oval table. Half of them were empty. Of the ones sitting, only Max truly knew who was behind Reaper’s mask. Reaper gave then a cursory once-over as he followed Akande into the room and sat in the seat closest to the doors, the only one still hiding behind a costume. Akande raked them all with a demanding gaze as he circled around behind Max to take his seat. They all watched as Akande sat, as he removed his hat and wig and leaned forward, capturing their attention before he even said a word.

“We have a war to start,” he said in a low, ominous voice.

"It's already begun."

Akande had half a second to register surprise and confusion before the shotgun materialized in Reaper’s hand and the report echoed in the stone room, the force of the shot sending the hoverchair drifting back a foot or two with Akande’s limp body lolling to one side, blood trickling slowly from the hole between his eyes.

Before the momentary shock wore off, Reaper moved his aim to the right while manifesting the other shotgun, and shot the Vishkar lackey in the throat at the same time as he eliminated the man sitting to Max’s right. Then he brought both arms forward and – one, two, three – the ones who had been sitting to Akande’s left died before they could even think about fleeing. That left only himself, Max on one end of the oval, and on the other end-

“Oh, is this a coup?” Moira asked sardonically. “How droll.” The little black ball she flicked at him impacted against the chin of the skull shaped mask, splattering and spreading before dissolving into a clinging mist. “You’ve been quite secretive, Reaper, but now I think it’s time you showed us who you really are…before you die.”

It took an effort to not laugh maniacally – yet – as he played to the drama.

“What is this?” he rasped, letting the swarm eat his costume. “I’m dissolving!”

Instead of his actual body, however, he came out in his usual armor and mask. The look of that’s not supposed to happen on the Irish bitch’s face was delicious.

“Just kidding,” he mocked, leveling both guns at her.

“Impossible! You should be a puddle!”

Now Reaper let loose the unhinged laughter. “Really, O’Deorain, I thought you were more intelligent than that. You never imagined that I might already have seen your little party trick?”

There; that was a spark of uncertain fear in her eyes.

He let the first few wisps emanate from his body. “That you might actually be looking at the results of your little concoction.”

“What- who are you?” she demanded, a note of panic in her voice.

“You know what they say…” Reaper let the mask dissolve. “…what doesn’t kill you makes you stronger.”

Moira’s face went white as a sheet. “Commander Reyes! It can’t be – you’re dead! I killed you!”

“Wrong and wrong again. You tried, and you failed. I’ve waited a long time for this,” he growled, letting his body dissolve completely.

He tore her apart, slowly. He didn’t even scavenge any of her cells.

When he re-formed by the door, Max was applauding.

“Beautifully done,” the omnic said gleefully. “This was my first time watching you in action, but I must say, you certainly live up to your reputation!”

“Thank you.” Behind his mask, Reaper grinned. “War begun and ended in less than five minutes. I think that’s a record.”

The door opened, and Sombra slipped inside. She looked around at the carnage for a moment before her face split into a bloodthirsty grin. “Who was that one?” she asked, pointing to the bloody chunks at the far end of the room.

“Moira O’Deorain. She’s the one who sold Overwatch out and threw me under the metaphoric bus after trying to kill me and almost succeeding.”

Sombra whistled, low and appreciative. “Feel better after all that?”

That made him laugh – an actual laugh, not the unhinged or maniacal things he’d been uttering. “Yes. I do.”

“Great! So we can get started on the real business now, then!” Sombra glanced at Akande’s sightlessly staring body. “Uh, but maybe we could do it in a…less-occupied room.”

Max laughed.