Chapter Text
Soldier: 76 heard his shoulder shatter as he was slammed into the wall. He resisted the urge to grab the injured arm, keeping his attention on the men advancing towards him. Coming to Atlanta had been a bad idea; he hadn’t realized how much the anti-omnic sentiments were preached here. Anyone with suspected augments were beaten bloody just for existing. His visor had made him a prime target; he wasn’t in the city for two days before the thugs had tracked him down to his hovel of a shelter, dragged him out into the streets in the middle of the night, and proceeded to make an example of him.
He spat out a mouthful of blood as he lifted the bottom of his facemask. He ran a tongue over his teeth, feeling for any loses, before he snapped the facemask back into place. He snorted at the thugs, ready to keep fighting. He wasn’t down and out just yet.
“That all you got?” he demanded.
The thugs laughed and slapped each other’s shoulders. They thought he was beaten; they didn’t know how well this old soldier could still fight. He snarled and charged, driving his broken shoulder into the chest of the closest thug. It was already broken; what more damage could be done to it? He knocked the thug to the ground and buried his fist three times into his meaty face. A baseball bat cracked against his head, sending him sprawling against the ground.
Stars danced in front of his eyes as he tried to get to his hands and knees. Blood trickled down his neck; was that from his face or from a new wound somewhere in his hairline? He’d worry about that later when he took stock of his injuries. A boot kicked hard into his stomach and he whined in pain as he tried to curl in on himself.
“Not so tough now, are ya?” one of the thugs snarled. “Disgusting, omnic-wannabe!”
“Must feel so tough,” 76 growled as he tried to roll to his knees again, “attacking a man that needs a visor to see.”
The bat cracked across his head and he dropped to the ground. His visor spat static across his field of vision, blurring everything into a mess of ugly red shapes. He coughed and wrapped an arm around his chest, struggling to keep his cracked ribs in place. He was dead. He was so dead.
“If you don’t like a man that has a visor,” a cold, metallic voice growled from all around them, “you’re going to hate me.”
76 lifted his head and squinted at the figure that materialized from the shadows. He saw a hooded head cock slowly to the side before they lunged at the closest thug. Blood splattered against the bone-white owl mask as the thug’s throat split wide open. Gleaming claws flashed in the street light as the thug fell to the ground clawing at his throat. The figure spun, ducked under the bat aimed for their head and produced a handgun from under their coat.
The thug tensed a second before the bullet tore through their torso. They dropped dead to the ground. The figure spun the gun in their hand before straightening from their crouch. They gave the 76 a curious look before they walked over to the already downed thug. 76 frowned as he watched them. He thought he saw something white leaving the body, but his visor was cracked and spitting static. He couldn’t be certain.
“What made you think that coming to a place like Atlanta was a good idea?” the hooded figure asked.
76 felt claws digging into the material of his jacket and hoist him slowly to his feet. He accepted the strong body against his, leaning on the stranger as he was helped back up towards his not-so-safe safehouse.
“Didn’t realize the anti-omnic sentiments had gotten this bad,” he growled. “Key should be….”
“The door’s been ripped off of its hinges; don’t think I have to worry about a key,” the hooded figure chuckled as he stepped over the threshold into the safehouse. “Love what you did to the place. It looks worse than my hovels.”
“Shut up,” 76 snapped.
“Grumpy,” the figure clicked their tongue before helping him onto his bed. “Here,” he felt one of his canisters get removed from his arm and groaned as the warm pulse of a biotic field encircled him, “that should help get that arm back into better shape and seal up those cracked ribs. Where’s your food kept?”
“Cabinet,” 76 growled.
“There’s like fifty of them,” the figure whined.
“Furthest one from the door,” 76 chuckled in spite of himself.
He heard the click of a door opening before the figure let out a long groan. “You are such a bachelor,” they huffed. “Canned beans, really?”
“Non-perishable food is easier to deal with,” 76 shook his head.
That was basic fugitive knowledge. You didn’t keep perishable food on you. That was a good way to die of food poisoning. Cans were a pain in the ass to haul around, but at least the food was almost always edible.
“Evidently,” the figure snorted. “But most people get a variety and not all the same type. How are you not sick of brown sugar by now?”
He heard the sound of metal being punctured before the old stove stuttered to life. “Careful; half the elements don’t work,” he warned.
“Thank you for telling me that after I started the damn thing,” the figure groaned. “Fucking hell, does anything work in these old safehouses?”
76 shook his head as he heard the snap of dials being turned on. “Back left works best,” he said.
He smelt cooking beans and inhaled deeply. The figure could say whatever he liked; there was nothing better than beans when you were on the run. He heard the figure whistling and cocked his head slowly to the side. He thought he recognized the song, but they kept breaking the tune to drum it out with their fingers.
“You have been doing dishes, right?” the figure asked.
“What are you, my mother?” 76 demanded.
“Considering how I had to come in and save your ass, I’m starting to think I am,” the figure let out a sigh.
Soldier: 76 dozed off for a few minutes and woke with a start when he felt something warm bump against his hands. He looked down in surprise and wrapped his hands thankfully around the bowlful of beans that the figure had pushed into his hands.
“Thank you,” he said as he slowly sat up.
“How’s the shoulder?” the figure asked as they leaned back.
76 shifted his damaged shoulder and winced. “Not as bad as it was,” he said. “Your concern is…questionable.”
The figure chuckled as they dropped into a chair. They folded their arms over their chest and shifted slowly. That might have been a roll of hips, but his vision was too static laced for him to see properly.
“I need you alive,” they said. “Sort of throws a damper on my plans if you die on me.”
“And what makes you think I will work for you?” 76 growled.
“With me, not for me,” the figure shook their head. “Eat.”
“Not while you’re watching,” 76 glared.
“What are you, a girl?” the figure rolled their head back onto their neck. “Fine. Someone has to do your dishes anyways. Bachelors are disgusting.”
They got to their feet and brushed past him. 76 waited until the sink was running before he pulled his mask off. He closed his eyes as he began to eat, not wanting to watch a world of shadows and shapes. He swallowed each hot mouthful gratefully, listening to the sound of running water and someone scrubbing pots and pans clean.
“You know, these would be easier to clean if you soaked them,” the figure called. “Were you too special in your last life to do dishes or something?”
“I had no intention of doing dishes if I wasn’t going to stick around for more than a few days,” 76 called back.
“So you’d rather attract attention by leaving a horrendous stench in your wake,” the figure snorted.
“I would have been…,” he started to growl.
“You would have been dead,” the figure said before something bounced off of 76’s head. “Their cellphone, by the way. Thought you’d love the message.”
“Is it on the screen?” 76 asked.
“Um, no?” the figure said slowly. “Why?”
“My visor’s damaged; can’t see without it,” he snorted.
There was silence before the figure pulled the plug in the sink and let the water drain out. “You’re more fucked up than I thought,” he said. “The message is about an enhanced human living in a shithole of an apartment that was quarantined years ago. You aren’t very good at this whole stealth thing.”
76 growled before he pulled his visor on quickly. “And you’re so much better at it,” he snapped as he held up the empty bowl. “You just left three bodies out in the street.”
“They can’t trace it back to me,” the figure said as they sat down and set the empty bowl on the ground. “Now that you’re all fed, we can talk properly.”
“There is nothing to discuss; I am grateful for the assistance, but I am uninterested in anything you have to offer, Talon.”
“I’m not here on behalf of Talon, Soldier,” the figure shook their head. “This is my own personal interest. You’re looking for answers as to what brought Overwatch to its knees. I’m looking for justice for those harmed by moles in Overwatch. We have a mutual interest.”
“And you think I would help someone on Talon’s payroll?” 76 demanded.
“You’ll notice I’m picky about the assignments I accept from them,” the figure yawned, patting at the front of the mask as if 76’s demand bored them. “I don’t do any of their stupid bombings or hostage taking.”
“That makes you such a likeable fellow,” 76 growled. “You still work for them; that makes you an accessory.”
The figure shook their head and slowly clapped their hands. “Wow, such a life-changing speech,” he sneered. “I have renounced my dark ways because you have made me see the light. Such an inspiration you are, Soldier.”
“What do you want, drama queen?” 76 snarled.
“You want answers; I have the financial means and contacts to get them,” the figure snorted. “Saves you constantly getting your ass kicked by thugs with reinforced baseball bats.”
“This was a freak accident,” 76 looked away.
“That’s going to become more frequent the further inland you go,” the figure said as they leaned forward. “You don’t have to associate yourself with Talon; they have nothing to do with this. This is my own personal project, one that I would like to help you with.”
“You’re killing Overwatch agents,” 76 growled. “I know what you’ve done; everyone with any contact with Overwatch knows what you’ve done.”
“Most of those agents were Talon spies,” the figure growled as they leaned forward. “They helped kill Jack Morrison and Gabriel Reyes. They were either in Zurich to detonate charges or helped to sabotage missions over the years. They weren’t innocent agents, my friend. They were the enemy.”
“And Talon just let you kill their agents?” 76 hissed.
“I’m good at covering my tracks,” the figure chuckled coldly before they pulled a handgun out from under their coat. “They’re looking for signature weapons, but they don’t realize half of what I am capable of. Trust me; they don’t have a fucking clue what I do in my off-time.”
76 looked down at his lap. “I need my visor repaired,” he said slowly.
“Done,” the figure waved a hand.
“You make it sound so simple,” he laughed. “Do you know what sort of tech this is?”
“One that can be picked up at any Overwatch safehouse in a major city,” the figure shrugged. “It’s a tactical visor; they’re a dime a dozen.”
“It’s specially made to….”
“You aren’t actually buying into that bullshit, are you?” the figure asked. 76 could just image the cocked eyebrow behind the mask. “Those tactical visors are used to enhance targeting functions and improve eyesight; any visor can do what this broken one does. They’re mass produced.”
76 did his best not to flinch at the implication that anyone could get their hands on a tactical visor. “We’ll see,” he said. “I’m going to regret this,” he added as he held his hand out. “Soldier: 76.”
“Reaper,” the figure said as he shook 76’s hand. “Get some rest; I’ll watch the door. We leave first thing in the morning for Newnan.”
“What’s in Newnan?” 76 frowned.
“An old Blackwatch safehouse that should have some information you’ll find useful,” Reaper said with a shrug as he got to his feet and walked over to stand by the door. “And where my next target is. Bastard used to give Blackwatch tips; I need to see where his loyalties really lay.”
76 narrowed his eyes. “Why do you care so much, Reaper?” he growled. “Overwatch was trying to take Talon out; why work with them?”
“I need money, unfortunately,” Reaper sighed as he leaned on the wall. “Most mercenary gigs don’t pay enough to get me the information I need. Informants of this nature don’t come cheap. And it gets me dirt on Talon that I can use when the time is right.”
“You think you can take down that organization on your own when Overwatch and Blackwatch couldn’t?” 76 demanded.
Reaper spread his hands wide. “I lost everything in Zurich when Talon blew up the Swiss Headquarters,” he said. “I have nothing to lose and everything to gain.”
“You’re a crazy son of a bitch,” 76 shook his head as he wiggled himself down on the bed. “But at least you’ll keep things interesting.”
He fell asleep to Reaper’s gentle chuckle.