Thread: Overwatch, Reaper and Windowmaker (Vulgrim x allycat)

So, one guard said, sounding bored. He yawned, clad in the usual grunt outfits most Overwatch soldiers kept themselves wrapped up in -- mostly blue with a hint of yellow, with darker armored plating. The pair stood at the door leading up the steps and to Amelie and Gerard Lacroix's room, where one of the most brilliant minds of their time was doing his damndest to figure out this part of the story. What? asked the second. Reyes or Morrison? That's not even a question, the second grumbled. Morrison. Reyes is crazy. Yeah, I mean -- I guess? I feel like Morrison holds back a little too much, though, y'know? I fought with Reyes once. Against some of the guys, in Talon. You wouldn't believe the way that guy moves. He's a monster with those shotguns of his. No way. You seen Commander Morrison fight? I have. Reyes ain't got nothin' on 'em, I'm tellin' ya. Yeah. Maybe. As the two continued to debate who was better as a figurehead for Overwatch, now that Gerard was gone, their bickering was suddenly cut short, as a brown-haired girl permanently stuck in her early twenties suddenly appeared right in front of them. They jumped and lifted their rifles, but didn't shoot. After all, who didn't know about Tracer? Still -- it was something you had to get used to, her constant jumping around like that. She was gone quick as she came, and they both sighed. Freak, Guard One muttered. Yeah. What's up with that accent? Is she English, or Australian? English, you idiot. See the patch on her jacket? Australia has that flag, too. ... oh, yeah. They both fell silent. She's cute, though, said One. Two agreed. Yeah. In another place, at another time, a man once known as Gabriel Reyes let out a loud grunt and poured himself in to the object he'd been abusing. When she teased him, when she humiliated him, when she spoke out against him, he didn't care. Few men dared to look at him at all, even fewer dared to mock him -- and in such a compromising position, in such a vulnerable way, if Widowmaker had the stomach to call him out like that, to quite literally mock him right to his face... Well. It made her more fuckable, frankly. With a growl low in his throat, the man's cock tensed, and Reaper suddenly pumped his little spider full of his own venom. Reaper's spunk was unnaturally warm -- warmer than she was used to, thicker, and more excessive, too -- but it was hardly enough to burn her, though it sure initially felt painful. With a grunt, he dropped Widowmaker on to her feet again, then gripped her ass and slowly pulled himself out. He rolled his shoulders and twisted his neck to both sides with a few audible cracks, then simply fell in another seat again. Smoke and shadow filled the air, and suddenly his pants were covering him again, though his still-hard cock could still be seen through the material. Get dressed, he said to her, then looked at her again. Reaper laughed. If you can. They'd be landing soon, and at a Talon base, well, she didn't want to be walking off of their little jet with a shredded catsuit. There was a long, uncomfortable silence between them. Reaper was inspecting his clawed nails. Finally, he glanced her way again. The man just couldn't help himself from mocking her, even after all of this. You know why you didn't kill her? he said, brow raised. Death looked her down. You're weak. You're pathetic. You've lost your bite. You had her in your sights. I saw it. And you did nothing. He yawned, sounding bored. Was that Widowmaker down there? he asked. Or was it... Amelie Lacroix, Winston sighed, looking at the bed where Gerard's body had once been. What have they done to you... The large man -- if you could call him that, really -- looked terribly sad. Not just for her dead husband, but for his wife and all of Overwatch. Without Gerard's guidance, the reigns would have to be passed on to someone else. Gabriel Reyes or Commander Morrison seemed the most likely, but even Winston couldn't decide between the two of them. They were both his friends. Hm? he heard something from behind, all of a sudden, and with a flash if light, Tracer was standing near the door. His brows raised, and the gorilla turned to face her. Oh! Lena, he greeted, reaching up to fix his glasses. There you are. Er... yes, I'll take that. Thank you. When the scanner was offered to him, he neglected to tell her that the thing was actually useless for this particular job, but it pained him to see Tracer disappointed in any way, and so he smiled, happy to know that she at least felt like she was helping. Did you have any luck? he asked, placing the device aside and hoping she wouldn't notice. Fortunately, Tracer had a way of always finding newer, more interesting things to home in on. At the woman's response, he just frowned and heaved another sigh. I see. Well. You tried your best, Lena. We both did. But even you can't turn back time that far... They needed something else to talk about. This was too depressing. How's the chronal accelerator working? he asked with a spout of interest, always happy to discuss one of his inventions. I'm working on a new model, you know. Hm. The tricky part will be taking it off and putting the newer version on to you before you have a chance to blink away. If we're careful, it might work. I have a few ideas. I wish I'd brought it with me. It's back at the lab.