Talon wasn't so much an organization as it was a series of individually functioning cells, each fueled by a very simple ideology – chaos. The key was to sew discord into the fabric of peace, to find the weakness in every bond and exploit it, to kill seeds of hope before their roots found purchase in the soil. It was why Reaper found the new Overwatch's attempts to stamp out each terrorist sect so laughable. At the rate their message spread to the frightened, isolated, spurned, and bored, it was like trying to end a cockroach infestation with a baseball bat.

However, as disdainful as Reaper found their methods to be, they alone held the power to provide him with the funds and resources to achieve his long sought revenge. Somehow, he knew that he'd never been closer to finding the traitor that ended Overwatch than he'd been since joining up with the lowest rung of society. The only downside was that he was forced to work with Moira again. The way she looked at him, like a vulture waiting for a chance to strike, kept him actively avoiding situations where he might wind up alone in a room with the mad doctor. If he couldn't kill her, then he didn't want her within a stone's throw of him, not when the memory of scalpels on his flesh still jolted him awake in the early hours, disoriented and disassembling.

The worst part was that she knew exactly what emotions her presence stirred within him, he could see it in the smug curve of her lips whenever circumstance demanded they interact. She may have fooled the council into thinking she was a genius, but he knew bastardized Cadeus tech when he saw it. There was nothing Moira had done that could have been accomplished without the use of Angela's research as a jumping point, and for that reason, Reaper would never think of her as anything more than a petty thief.

He'd honestly believed that he couldn't possibly have held more hatred within his ever-shifting form for the doctor than he already did, but that was before she'd introduced her latest success story and newest addition to his team, a meeting heralded by the clink of spurs and a low, melodic whistle.