STTA 13: Retribution

[moonshadows]

“McCree!” Reaper shouted, not looking up from his desk.

From the cowboy’s room, a voice floated back. “What?”

Well, he wasn’t going to just shout the mission details. “Get out here!”

“I’m a bit tied up right now, Dad. Can it wait?”

“No! You have a mission! Both of you!”

“Okay, fine! …Sombra, could you untie me?”

Reaper covered his mask with both gauntlets and drew a deep breath, almost absently composing a brief prayer for patience. He knew exactly what he’d just interrupted, and wished he didn’t. The silver lining was that Sombra was proving to be a daughter-in-law he could genuinely be proud of – she knew what she wanted and she didn’t let anything stop her.

Learning that his son enjoyed having her do…things…with rope, however, was something he could have lived without.

They strolled out two minutes later, and Reaper gave them the details. Looked like a simple digital smash-and-grab, but any mission that involved Sombra leaving the base required her to be escorted by either himself or McCree, and he had his regular meeting with Vialli and Someone Else in a few minutes.

“Don’t worry, Dad,” McCree said as they both hugged him. “We should be back in plenty of time for dinner.”

“You better,” he growled. Since Sombra had fully restored his body, he had to actively remember to growl, and more than two weeks later it still didn’t sound quite the same. “You two still need to finish packing for Venice.”

Because, of course, they wouldn’t be coming back.

“You worry too much, Papi,” the hacker teased.

“Hmph. Someone has to. Now go, you have a mission and I have a meeting.”

They hugged him again and went. Reaper sighed, stretched, and dissolved to ride the air vents to the meeting room.

---

Maximilien was on the other screen today, but the omnic was being quiet. By contrast, Vialli just would not shut up, rambling incessantly on inane tangents and covering the same material three or four times. It was understandable that with the meeting in Venice only two days away – and Ogundimu making waves since before he even left prison – Vialli would be a bit on edge. Particularly since Ogundimu had followed through on his plan and demanded Sombra accompany him on his visit to Monaco, with Widowmaker for her backup. Two valuable tools, two trophies, neither one resilient or expendable like Reaper and McCree were, respectively. He was pushing boundaries, pushing Vialli’s buttons, and everyone knew it was the precursor to a coup. It was bound to make Vialli nervous.

He’d be more nervous if he knew the preparations Reaper had been making.

And yet…

Behind his mask, Reaper’s eyes narrowed. Vialli didn’t seem afraid. It was more like he was stalling, but why?

Before he could think of a way to ask, the screens glitched and Vialli’s went dark.

“Reaper?” Maximilien said cautiously.

“I’m here,” he growled.

The omnic’s cranial lights glowed in the darkness. “We don’t have much time before the glitch caused by my interference is sorted out. You must leave immediately.”

A thrill of alarm raced up Reaper’s spine. “Why?”

“I have received word from Sombra. The mission was a set-up. Vialli knows who you are, and he has just tried to kill your son.”

Black smoke exploded from his shoulders and back, protective rage making his blood boil. “Thanks for the tip. If I don’t see Vialli in Venice,” he snarled, “then I’ll see him in hell.”

The omnic tilted his head in an amused way. “Good hunting, Commander Reyes.”

The screen went dark, and Reaper dissolved completely.

First, he flashed through the air vents to his quarters. The fact that Maximilien knew who he was – who he had been – was of no concern at the moment. Sombra was clearly allied with Maximilien and she knew who he used to be, so naturally she would have told her ally. Reaper allotted two minutes to shoving clothes and personal effects into the bag his son and their hacker had started, and then he grabbed the one he’d packed for himself. With both bags slung over one shoulder he stalked through the halls shooting anyone who tried to stop him. By the time he reached the hangar, word had spread and the only sounds were the echoes of distant feet running for cover.

He took the fastest craft in the hangar and sped towards the mission coordinates.

---

The number of bloody bodies scattered around outside the building was reassuring, but Reaper kept both shotguns out anyway as he searched the place. He found more dead bodies inside, these in Talon gear, and a trail of smeared blood that led into the men’s bathroom.

At the last second, he reconsidered inviting potential gunfire by opening the door, and misted under it instead.

On the other side, he saw familiar booted legs spilling out from one stall. The faint sound of damaged electronics echoed off the tiles.

“Papi?”

Sombra’s voice was quiet, tense, and not reassuring in the slightest.

“Si, Sombra.”

“He’s alive,” she said in a rush as he cautiously approached the stall to peer inside. His cowboy son was unconscious, blood soaking his clothing in multiple places. “My legs are damaged. He dragged me in here. I-”

 “You’re both coming with me.” Carefully, he lifted McCree and draped one arm over his shoulder before grabbing Sombra’s outstretched hand and hauling her up, as well. It looked like she’d taken several shots between hips and knees, synthskin scorched and peeled back to expose damaged mechanisms, and the sparks bleeding from the gunshot wounds tickled against his armor. “Hold on.”

Translocation wasn’t the easiest ability to use, but Jesse needed help fast and running would only jostle his wounds. It took five jumps before they were on the ship. He laid his son on the floor and sat Sombra in the pilot’s seat, where she caressed the controls and enslaved them.

“Where to?” she asked as the door closed and the engines prepared for takeoff.

Reaper ripped the first aid kit off the wall and opened it up. “The last place anyone would expect us to go,” he said grimly. “Watchpoint Gibraltar.”

---

McCree would live, but recovery wouldn’t be fun. He’d lost a lot of blood. The armor had done its job protecting his vitals, at least, and the bandages from the first aid kit would hold things until they got to a medical facility…which shouldn’t be long, with how close they were to the Watchpoint. Reaper directed Sombra towards the best place to land as they came in, and had her set the little ship down as close to the door as possible.

With McCree’s unconscious body cradled in his arms and Sombra clinging to his shoulders, he wouldn’t be making any kind of stealthy entry – but that wasn’t his intent. The ringing of his boots against the steps echoed boldly, and in the distance he could hear a proximity alarm go off.

“Athena!” he bellowed. “I’m not a hostile and I’m carrying wounded! Tell your creator to chill out!”

A startled exclamation and rhythmic thudding; that would be Winston running towards the entryway, no doubt. Sure enough, as he strode into the command center, the gorilla landed in front of him and pulled up short in surprise.

“Reaper! You think you can-”

“Don’t even start with me, monkey!” Reaper snapped in a commanding shout. “My daughter-in-law needs help! And while you’re at it, call Ziegler for my son. Who else do you have contact information for? Call them all. I want Talon to be a smoking crater as of yesterday.”

Winston seemed stunned as Reaper laid McCree on a table, then unhooked Sombra and laid her beside him. Only then did the gorilla shake himself out of it and move over to the hacker. “Uh…of course. Athena?”

“I have already sent an urgent message to Dr. Ziegler,” the AI said pleasantly. “Contacting all Overwatch agents now.”

The gorilla looked up from examining Sombra’s legs and fixed Reaper with a remarkably threatening glare. “I hope you have a plan,” he said in a sharply accusing tone.

“Of course I have a plan. It will be like shooting fish in a barrel. I could do it by myself if I had to, but I thought Overwatch might like to be part of taking down the organization that took down them.”

“That’s…quite a change of heart from last time,” Winston said warily.

Reaper snorted. “Last time? You mean when I let you kick my ass while the program I had Sombra sabotage skimmed a quarter of your information and then twiddled its digital thumbs?”

“Now that you mention it…” Winston mumbled, turning away in a gesture of embarrassment. “Uh…Sombra?”

She rolled her eyes. “That’s my name.”

“Do you have…schematics?”

“Of course,” she huffed. One hand gestured, and a screen opened.

Reaper watched for a moment, then said, “I’m going to see what you’ve done to the med bay before I transfer my son there.”

A distracted mumble and a nod; good enough. He dissolved and flowed out of the room.

---

The med bay was still in decent condition; Reaper prepared a table and assembled the things he thought Ziegler might need. Winston and Sombra barely noticed him returning or carrying McCree off.

“I have received confirmation of Dr. Ziegler’s ETA,” Athena said as he laid McCree on the medical table. “It will be nearly an hour before she arrives, and the Overwatch agents who have replied affirmatively will begin arriving shortly after.”

“Thanks,” he said shortly. “I’m going to do what I can here and then draw up a battle plan – assuming you haven’t locked me out of the system.”

“Commander Reyes.” He swore she sounded almost offended. “Your authorization remains valid.”

The thought of his old friends hearing that name…seeing the distinctive armor, and wondering…

Reaper cringed behind his mask. “Please don’t call me that. Just ‘Reaper’. I don’t want to open that can of worms until after the mission.”

“I understand.”

He wondered if she really did, but it was the least of his concerns right now. As gently as he could, he stripped McCree and piled everything out of the way. A painkiller, a saline drip, and a sheet were about all he could do without taking the bandages off.

“Athena?”

“Yes, Reaper?”

“If he wakes up, let him know that he’s safe, Sombra’s safe, I’m safe, and Ziegler’s on her way?”

“Of course.”

“Thanks.” He stretched, feeling three vertebrae pop in his back. “Actually, I’m going to move the ship and bring our bags in before I get started on the battle plan. Don’t want to be the asshole who parks in front of the door.”

It didn’t take long to move the little ship out of the way, and he left the bags in a corner of the command room. Sombra seemed to be actively involved in her own repairs, controlling some sort of drone to aid Winston while also making a list of replacement parts they’d need. At least the damaged portions of her legs had stopped sparking. Reaper settled in front of an unused terminal half-hidden behind a pile of equipment and started drawing up the plans they’d made for the Talon meeting in Venice. He’d alter them according to who showed up to help, but the core remained simple. And, as he’d told Winston, he’d do it all by himself if he had to.

Angela Ziegler arrived as he was finishing, and he stayed out of sight while she greeted Winston briefly on her way to the med bay. On the one hand, he wanted to follow her and make sure his cowboy son was okay. On the other hand, he thought, how do you meet the eyes of the woman in whose bathroom you tried – and failed – to kill yourself? He busied himself with transferring everything on his pad to the Watchpoint servers, then adding everything he remembered. Base locations, passwords, personnel and equipment, all the things he’d managed as head of Blackwatch and taken up the reins of keeping track of at Talon for the purpose of efficiently organizing missions.

It was the gentle thump of a mug being set next to him that brought him out of the world of lists and numbers. Startled, he looked up – straight into Angela’s tired and concerned face.

“Jesse McCree is recovering,” she said gently. “Sombra is with him in one of the agents’ quarters. Half a dozen Overwatch agents have arrived already, with a dozen more on their way. I get the feeling you would forget to eat anytime soon if left to your own devices, so…”

She gestured at the mug. He recognized the contents from their scent: a broth packed with as much powdered protein and nutrients as it would hold and still be a liquid, the sort of thing that could keep a man going for days in the field and had a shelf life of approximately forever. There was a bendy straw stuck in the liquid so that he wouldn’t have to remove his mask to drink it.

The stripes on the straw were red. He didn’t know if that was coincidence or a subtle hint that she knew who he was.

“Thanks,” he growled shortly, picking up the mug and sipping to excuse himself from any further conversation.

She moved on, distributing hot (if shelf-stable) food to the cluster of men and women chatting with Winston. None of them seemed to have noticed him, and he was content to keep it that way until the other dozen had arrived. He went back to spilling Talon’s secrets into the Watchpoint servers, sipping his dinner absently.

It was Reinhardt bellowing Winston’s name that startled him out of his own thoughts again, and he looked up to see that not only had he dragged one of Torbjörn’s kids with him – in armor, no less – but Ana was being hugged by Ziegler, Morrison was being mobbed by agents who’d thought he was dead, and was that Genji?

For a long moment, Reaper regretted inviting all and sundry to this party.

“You’re, uh, probably wondering why we called you here,” Winston said as the greetings wound down. “We, uh, provided sanctuary to a few ex-Talon agents who were betrayed and came here seeking sanctuary.”

That was remarkably sympathetic. No doubt Sombra had talked with him about more than just her ruined legs.

“One of them has a plan to take down the organization. He says he could do it by himself, but he wanted to, uh, give Overwatch a shot at revenge. If you recognize him – you’ll probably recognize him, just don’t…uh…cause a scene? Please? I have reason to believe he is genuine in his desire to destroy Talon.” After a collective murmur of agreement, Winston drew a deep breath. “Okay. Reaper? The floor is yours.”

As unhappy mutters and startled gasps rippled up from the group, he dissolved and swirled over to the big display, not-so-coincidentally keeping him at a healthy distance from the people who might recognize him and deliberately not looking at Morrison or Amari. The display linked to the terminal he’d been at, and he pulled up maps of the Venice location.

“We have a rare opportunity,” he growled. “All the heads of Talon are going to be in one place. I can break in and kill them all myself if I have to…” He glanced at the assembled agents and grinned behind his mask. “…but I don’t think I’ll be alone. Akande Ogundimu plans to move against at least one other head. I was supposed to accompany him. His intended victim is the one who turned on me, so I doubt word of my disappearance has reached him. But just in case, here’s the layout of the area. Security is supposed to be here, here…”

Reaper went through every detail of the plan, including what his costume looked like and where Widowmaker was going to be. He saw Amari and Ziegler put their heads together and silently wished them luck in whatever they were plotting.

“I know you probably don’t trust my information completely,” he growled at the end of the presentation, “so I won’t tell you what to do. The information is yours and I’ll leave in the morning so you can work out whatever plan you want. My only suggestion is that you leave Maximilien alone or capture him alive; I have reason to believe he’s secretly working against Talon, and his warning is the only reason my agents survived the mission that was supposed to kill them.”

With that, he dissolved into smoke and fled the room before anyone could ask questions that would be uncomfortable for everyone.