Gabriel Reyes was dead. For many years now, he had been dead. Now, only a demented specter remained of who and what he once was. And that restless spirit went by one name alone. One name that had spent many years branding itself into the fearing minds of any who tried to keep what little, fragile peace there was in the world intact.
Reaper.
And Reaper was a busy creature these days, which served as the only reason as to why he was currently standing on the outskirts of a poor village on the end of Africa's southeastern coast, under a baking hot sun. He received a mission from his employers, the terrorist organization designated as Talon, less than a day before, and they dropped him off at the edge of the place soon after he accepted it. It had been a scant two weeks after his botched mission in Gibralter concerning the discovery of the whereabouts of more, retired Overwatch operatives, and he truly wanted to improve his image after what had happened. His target in the debriefing was listed as such:
Name: Tekhartha Zenyatta
Age: Twenty
Race/Ethnicity: Omnic, Monk
Mission: Terminate
Reaper took great delight in the fact that he was the one to receive this mission. He still remembered the days of the omnic crisis, and how much trouble the titular machines put everyone through, him included. Any chance he had to end one's miserable existence he reveled in cruelly, and lucky for him, this one was a particularly important and well-known individual throughout the world. People would always talk about how 'Zenyatta', as the monk-themed bot chose to name itself, would travel the world in nomadic fashion, teaching anyone who dared to listen of his words and the lessons they taught in the hopes of bringing the world one step closer to peace.
And that's why he now stood here, in front of a crudely-built hut. He received information from Talon telling him that this little shanty sitting off of the edge of a cliff and facing the ocean was where Zenyatta was making his residence for the short time he was going to stay in this relatively small village. Currently, the omnic was gone; most likely in the village healing the sick and spouting the nonsense of his supposed wisdom.
Reaper, already plotting how he would ambush the humble guru, easily pushed the door open with a loud creak of aged wood. Walking inside with very little emotion in his strut, he closed the door behind himself and took a look around. Unimpressed with how it appeared, he began forward.
Then it happened. As he took no more than four steps into the house, Reaper nearly keeled over as a fuzzy, numb feeling overtook him, followed by a wave of extreme pain that washed all over his body; stronger than the torturing torment he normally endured in every second of his life. His breathing turned into choked and desperate gasps for air as he felt his withered lungs begin to fail him, and every joint and muscle that surrounded his dark visage seemed to feel as though they were bathing in searing flame. Faltering to one knee, he placed one clawed hand on the wooden ground of the abode and tried in vain to recover from what was happening to him, until he noticed something.
A black mist was starting ooze from his concealed hand, slowly stripping its physical form away. When he turned his stiffened neck with a wretched groan, he noticed that it seemed to be happening elsewhere as well. From his arm, his shoulder, his chest, his legs... everywhere he could see, his body was rotting in such a manner.
A scant few moments later, the mist suddenly stopped, and his body regenerated and became whole again. The extreme pain vanished, and strength returned in its fullest. It was as though it hadn't even happened when his breathing returned to normal.
This was the fourth time in the last six days alone that Reaper experienced this burst of excruciating agony and weakness, and it was only now beginning to worry him. Never before had he been through this kind of occurrence, and the fact that it was happening now - and becoming much more frequent as it went on - left him utterly befuddled.
Something's wrong with me... he thought to himself in a mumbling growl. Clenching his fist so hard a wicked crackling noise went out in its knuckles, he lifted it from the ground, and rose back to his legs. But there's still a job to do. When the tin can shows up, he'll be in for a treat...
Without time to spare, Reaper walked off to find a place to hide and wait within this old house.
Zenyatta was silent throughout most of the evening when he returned to his home for the time being. No sooner had he arrived, he began planting lit candles all about through the place, and from them a fragrant incense soon filled the entire house with a strong, waxy scent that staved off the salty smell of the sea. Walking to where he estimated was the exact center of the complex, he sat down on the ground, crossed his legs, and began to meditate.
He meditated there for some time, all of his thoughts turning to the near future and far past. To order and chaos. To nothing and everything. He was so in tune with himself and his surroundings that his frail, metal body began to levitate above the ground, seemingly on its own.
There was a still peace here, and yet, as his meditation reached its apex, the omnic felt as though something was not quite right within his household. Breaking from his deep contemplation, he started to move around the candlelight-illuminated living area, still levitating all the while. He eventually passed by the door to an unused closet.
Yes, he clearly felt a presence of some kind coming from within the old, unused room. A presence that made him feel deeply unsettled. Zenyatta reached for the rusted handle, when it was violently kicked open from the other side, revealing a tall, grim figure.
"Surprise," Reaper bluntly greeted, pointing the barrel-ends of his two hellfire shotguns at Zenyatta's smaller form. A deafening gunshot echoed out of the first one as it fired at its intended victim, but by the time the minuscule bullets left the barrel, the omnic had crossed his arms together, summoning his orbiting spheres to protect him. All of the scattering bullets grazed, deflected and bounced off of the metal balls, sending them careening against the walls and floor of the building instead.
Not worrying, Reaper fired his other weapon in rhythmic succession, but Zenyatta had already floated away at a swift speed just to the right by then, avoiding the attack. Jumping back and sending his palm forward, a blast of destructive blue energy sped forth from one of his orbs, hitting Reaper in the shoulder and throwing his aim off. Without pause, he did it once more and three times after, attempting to pelt the would-be assassin with a hail of his learned power, despite him firing back relentlessly, decimating the candle-covered room.
Reaper's guns soon ran dry, and instead of taking the heat from the multiple blue streaks heading his way, the wraith jumped behind a nearby corner and pressed his back against it as he tossed both of his empty guns away, reaching into his vest and ripping out another pair of the same weapons. Turning his skull-like, masked face to the corner's edge, he prepared his next assault on his target.
"Are you prepared to die, omnic?" he cackled malevolently from where he hid.
"Death is but one of many doors we all eventually pass through in life," Zenyatta responded calmly, refocusing and recollecting the power used to fuel his orbs of destruction with a clap of his metallic hands. "Even should I fall now, my teachings will live on through my many students, as with their own students. And that factor will never change."
"Then in that case, I shall gladly oblige you," Reaper replied in a blatantly faux-polite tone. He suddenly threw himself from behind the corner and charged directly at the omnic, shifting into his ethereal wraith form in the process. Reaper's entire, immaterial body seemed to float above the ground like a phantasmal bird of prey as he flew forward, arms outstretched, and the once dark-filled spaced in his mask's eye sockets blazed red like fiery embers from the deepest depths of hell itself.
But Zenyatta did not fear, nor did he despair. Seeing through his enemy's unassailable trick, he simply prepared another attack. "There is disquiet in your soul," he called out as a lightning-fast, purple sphere impacted against Reaper's translucent, dark form the moment it took physical shape once again. As the orb of discord struck him, it attached to him like a tick through a chord of sizzling energy, and he felt a great, mind-distorting weakness come over him. A weakness that he knew would hinder him.
"Damn," he muttered, pointing his shotguns ahead of himself. He launched another volley of shots at Zenyatta as he passed by, dashing to the other end of the house, where he kicked up a small table with the end of his boot and sprung behind it. Some of the bullets in the spray nicked the machine monk on his right shoulder, causing him to let out a small cry of pain as he attempted to fight back.
Out of the omnic's line of sight, Reaper let out a breath of relief as he sensed the purple orb disconnect from him and return to its master. Unhappy with the amount of bullets loaded in his shotguns currently, he dropped them like sticks to the ground in the manner akin to what he did with the last pair, and sorted through his coat once again for another set.
With them in hand, he planted his foot firmly on the tip of the upturned table and jumped from it. As soon as he landed on the ground, he started to break into a sprint, and was moments away from ending Zenyatta's life. He raised his weapons just before Zenyatta could lift his hands. The end drew near, and Reaper could practically feel the smile of victory that was about to come over his face.
That is, until a pulse of pure agony streaked through his body like a jolt of lightning, causing him to trip in surprise at how sudden and out-of-nowhere it was. Dropping his guns in anguish and shock, they fell with a clatter to the ground, and Reaper clutched his chest with a shaky hand, desperately trying to force his head up as he dropped to his knee.
No... not now! he shrieked in his mind as it was overcome by the crippling torment. As he stumbled forward, black liquid and mist dripping through the holes of his mask and openings of his coat, Zenyatta saw his chance and acted upon it. Crossing his arms and rallying all the focus of his mind into a single purpose, a cluster of orbs began to glow over and around his head, forming five individual balls of light. As the final one took form, he unleashed all of his pent-up power at Reaper with a defiant shout, and all the ailing specter could do was raise a claw-like hand and brace himself as best he could.
Then the barrage struck. Every single one hit Reaper at their full force, sending him flying across what little of the room was left to soar past, until his prone body reached a window. Like a stone, he was thrown through it with a shattering of glass, and off of the cliff that the house sat near. His dark, ragged shape fell into the even-darker water lying far below, and the moment he landed with a splash into it, he was swept up by a large wave and the current it drifted on.
Calmly exhaling, Zenyatta peered over the edge of the shattered window, and saw nothing that would pose any more of a threat to him. Lifting his head from the view, the omnic turned about and silently went off to tend and repair his minor wounds.
