A KING I WAS.

the brittle conversations of those who saw to the widowmaker were crashingly loud in their ears even ( especially ) in the times they were not meant to hear . translating && comprehending what was said– much different, but tonight they were simply too tired to attempt . it was not unknown how they had been passed around like a LIVE GRENADE since their first visit to talon hq : gerard guillard , ana amari . the idea of physical augments has been the most recent cause for study– these new eyes are not her own , these limbs feel far too heavy , like harbingers for what is coming .

but can they do it ? amelie the widowmaker does not remember the first and did not kill the second and wonders how their personal puppeteers will PUNISH them if they fail to assassinate the shambali leader .

the widowmaker’s thoughts are interrupted by callous clicks between the ears. four amber eyes SNAP to the mask-wearer . though they try to rise , cool metal keeps all six limbs strapped tight . a defeated sigh falls , quiet but not unheard . 

“ i am capable of hearing . “ they respond , too dead . the widowmaker does not seem to recognize her dead husband’s FORMER colleague . probably for the better .

❛ well i’ll be damned. ❜ reaper looms over them, redness of their eyes peering through the thin slits in the mask. ❛ looks like they found an even bigger freak to order around. ❜

they snort, a thin plume of smoke slithers out of the mask and disappears. talon’s agenda was exactly this-- a bizarre collection. reaper has no delusions about why they reached out to them specifically. they couldn’t go anywhere else. reyes’ body was gone and all that was left of him was just anger that needed direction. akande fit the bill too, so did their newest omnic ally... talon was all about collecting the undesirable, taking their seclusion and sharpening it, pushing it into their hungry, bleeding hands. 

except-- this time, they seem to be creating the monsters, rather than just baiting them to come. that’s... reaper struggles to find the right word to describe the situation. but they know what they feel. caution. not towards the misshapen victim-- but towards the nebulous state of talon HQ. what kind of god complex leads an organization to brainwashing someone into killing what they love-- their own individuality included? reaper breathes out more smoke, it rolls slowly like a thundercloud. 

   “What?” Ken will kill Reaper all over again if they repeat themselves. It wasn’t a question, it was barely even a thought. With the sheets bundled up over their legs, Kennedy props their chin on their knees then turns their head to Reaper with a quizzical look. “What now? Accountancy?” Hah. They wink at an eye off-center, and huff a sigh. “I – never knew you before. You gonna miss it?”

❛ i quit. my. terrorist job. ❜ they even break it down for them so it’s easier to understand. 

❛ just sign it. ❜ they shove a datapad into scientist’s hands, ignoring the ‘oomph’ of protest. reaper does not like to grace this sterile part of talon hq with their presence for longer than they need-- too many curious glances. too many hungry hands, itching to dig into their smoke and excavate their malformed nature. 

too bad, reaper doesn’t exist to sate anybody’s scientific intents ( not anymore ).

       ❛ — for WHAT ?? ❜ 

what do dead men need time for ?? the clock’s stopped ticking for them, and it rang with the shock wave of a blast. he isn’t nihilistic by any means. there’s still a reason jack’s been sifting through dusty, cob-web covered bases that haven’t seen flesh and blood for years. there’s a fucking reason he’s got SOMETHING chewing in the back of his mind, planting what-if’s and maybe’s. they’re festering, and he can’t reach to ITCH THEM. 

but he’s close. he’s so close. 

he shakes his head, once, quick. maybe jack has finally went insane after all these years. after all, he’s trying to reason with a man — no, not a man, an echo of one, the empty shell that got gutted — who wants nothing more than to make use of his empty grave. ❛ it wasn’t me. ❜ hopefully if he repeats it enough it’ll STICK. 

then jack angles his jaw higher and squares his shoulders. if reaper’s the empty shell then jack’s the messy insides that got SMEARED across the walls. a rough painting of a soldier who hasn’t quite realized that the battle’s been over with. ❛ i’m not going to beg you to trust me, but you came here, reaper. i didn’t force you. you found me out. ❜ he looks around, takes in their surroundings. a shitty room in a shitty apartment complex in a shitty city. ❛ you had a reason. ❜

❛ you’re lying. you’re a fucking liar. i wasn’t looking for you-- ❜ they really want to ATTACK. their tongue twists in their mouth and it feels like it’s trying to choke them, silence them before they say something that they would rather keep to themselves. TRAITOROUS SMOKE, they think as if their body was not their own. 

teeth sprout, claws curl. their smog speaks of violent intentions and yet they stand in place, waiting for jack’s words. they want to hear them, that’s the worst thing, the biggest betrayal of this night. they should be leaving. they should be lunging. they should be doing anything BUT regarding jack with tamed, growling carefulness. 

if they had a spine it would be snapping from tension.

❛ i didn’t have a reason !! ❜ they bark and they realize they’re right. no reason for today, no reason for the fires in the switzerland, all those years ago. no reason for the syringe in their veins, no reason for the venom that turned them into ash and smoke, all of that-- there was no reason. they were lashing out. no plans, no schemes. just fury that has led them to this self-suffocation. a proclaimed martyr of all things VAPOR. 

you’ve done this to yourself, they want jack to say. they want him to say this so that they can kill him for that, MAIM HIM for saying the truth that they can’t claw out of their own mind. they can’t confront it themselves, they can’t speak it. jack can-- and they could punish him for that and maybe that will feel good, maybe that will feel... FINITE. like scooping up the last piece of themselves they forgot to find in the ruins of swiss HQ. they can’t stand this mute hunger any longer.

They did just break in. Just because they’re used to it doesn’t make it legal. But Kennedy taps teeth to the tip of their tongue for a precautionary bite – they’ve nothing angry to hold back, but they know themselves. The sheets ball loosely in their fists.

After Reaper’s quiet for a couple seconds, Kennedy rubs their nose and moves aside, pulling one of two pillows from behind their back and laying a place next to them. “C’mere, you’re acting like a night terror.”

they blink ( and as usual, that simple gesture is as ghastly as ever ). finally, they noiselessly move to sit in the place kennedy made for them. reaper fixes their surplus eyes on them, gauging what effect this miserable reaper-less existence had on kennedy. but ( obviously ) it’s impossible to tell. they can’t even remember what kind of face kennedy had when they last saw them. 

A big breath in a little huff lifts and drops their shoulders. Without realizing until they’re done talking, they’re just bracing. “In the last few years I fell in love with – I know, shut up – with someone who was secretly leading a cyberterrorist organization, uh, among other things. Before that it was a cop who it turned out to be undercover in… something, bad. They both also had secret drug problems. They’re both invited, for the record.”

They never even told Elliot about Rust, or vice versa. And it’s suddenly seizing them in a scary way that they’ve just given Reaper both. But it’s okay. It’s always kind of okay with them, because of this.

Kennedy thinks of touching the veil of smoke, reaches and rescinds. “Gabriel, I’m just glad you… are who you are. You’re one of the realest things I know. Come to my Christmas party.”

they’re silent for a while.

❛ jesus christ. ❜ a cloud of smoke bursts through the holes in their mask in a snort or a sigh-- or quite possible both. ❛ i was gonna say YES, you didn’t need to give an entire speech to me. ❜

no, they weren’t going to say yes but now-- they’re not sure. they tell themselves they can always bail last minute. they’re smoke, it’s in their nature to just disappear when someone wants to catch them. and sometimes kennedy comes dangerously close to doing that.

They’ve seen more shit than Reaper gives them credit for, and they’ve seen Reaper.    “I guess I can’t stop you.” Reaper’s intangibility is good enough to stave off both Ken’s impulses – to hug them and throw a pillow at them at once. No note, no call, what were they meant to – the furrow on Kennedy’s face looks sour, bitter, but apparently not embittered enough to make them spit it out. They tuck in their legs tighter and stare over their kneecaps. “So what, are you hiding from someone?”

❛ stop making it sound like i just broke in. ❜

they did just break in. but with good intentions, they think. 

They aren’t a dog, they have better object permanence than a labrador looking for the tennis ball you just slipped behind your back. But only marginally. Kennedy takes the time to sit upright, untwist their shirt from where it’s mangled itself in a rough night’s sleep, and scratch sleep from their eyes before speaking. It’s part waking up, part stalling until they have something good to say. They don’t. The password is flipperdidjfk. “Hi.”

they puff out a small cloud of smoke, somewhat disappointed. they really counted on some horror-esque screaming, complete with trembling hands and extreme close up on kennedy’s face. maybe they’ve seen more shit than reaper gives them credit for.

❛ hey. ❜

still, reaper seems impossibly ( for them ) pleased with this welcome. they stare at kennedy, blink slowly and tug the corners of their main mouth higher, sharper.