Souls are unique. It is the light within that flourishes with life force, that can grow and fill the crevice of our depths. It is what the Grim Reaper incarnate sought to devour.
Dual wielded shotguns clatter against the cold floor, their ammunition spent and barrel smoking with eerie black wisps that mimic it's owner.
The footsteps fade and black tendrils that are darker than night brush the floor and encompass the remaining space. It's victim lay trembling, unable to come to terms with their dastardly demise; gasping for breath and blood pooling around the massive holes of torn flesh.
He should be dead, the victim thinks, but such a sight donned in black, with a white mask and menacing claws is captivating and terrifying. He still lives.
The shadowed figure laughs. A voice so deep and threatening that booms in the space and spits in the face of the soldier now on the verge of death.
"Do you fear death?" It says. "Death so wicked that even your soul is to be devoured?"
The man lay panting, his heartbeat pounding in his ears, unable to respond now that he stares death in the face.
Reaper solidifies once again and his clawed talons pull his victim up, crushing the dying man's throat. Listening to the gurgling please that are torn between wanting to live and receive a merciful death, Reaper laughs before he feels dissociated. The laughter dies to a growl of anger and anguish, and the man in his grip finally goes lax, blood drenched on his claws.
Just like his guns, the body is tossed with a thud and then, his prize emerges.
Glowing so dimly now, the soul hangs in the foyer and familiar wisps of black curl around it's shape, almost lovingly and gentle. The soul is devoured until the light is snuffed out and Reaper feels his skin beneath the get-up pull and yearn for more. It greedily persuades and coaxes it's host for more and more and Reaper can feel his thoughts turn from bad to worse.
Gabriel Reyes underneath the mask wants to yell and curse the doctor for her failure, turning him into this monster, yet wants to return to when his actions were genuinely for the greater good. Reaper on the other hand, yearns for revenge to undo Overwatch and everything that has ever betrayed him. Reaper wins this time of course and his inner turmoil finally ceases to exist and all he is, is Reaper, Reaper of souls.
He wraiths and goes; black inky smoke shrouded in the night and not to be seen again. All that is left are lifeless, soulless bodies.
It's time to reap.
For my longtime followers, I am sorry for my league of absence, update is on my profile. For the lovely fans of Overwatch:
This tidbit was written at work while on some downtime and criticism is highly welcomed. Also, more oneshots to come for this lovely game and many more.
/Not Beta'd/Proofread