"So are you guys ever getting here, or am I gonna have to kill this chick myself?"
Reaper scowled through his mask at Sombra on one of the cockpit's monitors.
"ETA half an hour..." He hissed. "Don't get yourself killed until we get paid."
Reaper ended the call with a touch of a button and returned his hands to the ship's wheel. Behind him, Widowmaker was making adjustments to her rifle.
"So... our first time working with Sombra..." She noted, "Are you going to let her figure out for herself what a seething ball of angst you are, or should I send her a link to your MySpace page?"
Reaper clutched the wheel more tightly. "I told you I didn't set up that page!" He snapped. "It was... it was probably Soldier 76 or something..."
Widowmaker picked up a tablet computer from a nearby surface. "Soldier 76 has some interesting opinions of that agent we killed last week... Especially how upset he was about his feedback on your poetry..."
"I DON'T WRITE POETRY!" Reaper shouted, sounding somewhat panicked, before Widowmaker had even finished uttering the word.
Silence resumed, save for Reaper's heavy breathing, and he continued flying the ship. It was Widowmaker who eventually broke it, after smiling maliciously to herself.
"I need to do a supply run after this next mission. Basic stuff, you know? Bullets, venom canisters... shaving cream..."
Reaper was confused, then he panicked slightly. "You... erm... you need shaving cream?"
"Nope." Widowmaker replied, coyly.
"Well... me neither... obviously. You know? Because of... because of how disfigured my face is." Reaper assured her, defensively. "Why would you ask that?"
"Because this ship only has one bathroom, imbécile." She pointed out. "You left it in there."
Widowmaker's tone didn't give away if she actually knew why Reaper needed shaving cream, so he hoped for the best.
"Right, well... I... shave my legs?" He tried, nervously, unsure, in hindsight, if that was less embarrassing than the truth.
"Uh-huh, yeah... Oh hey, has Anna unfriended you on Facebook?" She asked, suprisedly.
Reaper only just took the time to engage autopilot before spinning his chair around. "She did what!?"
No sooner had Reaper spun around, that Widowmaker's grapple launched across the room, clamped securely to Reaper's mask, and yanked it from his face. He immediately lifted his arms defensively.
"Arrgh! Oh nooo... I'm so hideous! Don't look at me!" Reaper demanded, half-heartedly.
"I saw the sunbathing selfies you took on your holiday last month, Reaper..." Widowmaker informed him. "When we meet Sombra, get her to explain privacy settings to you."
With a sigh, Reaper lowered his arms, revealing his perfectly intact features. With a wave of his hand and a puff of smoke, the mask vanished from Widowmaker's hands, and reappeared on his face.
"I wear it for personal reasons..." He scowled, returning to the ship's controls.
"You mean to illustrate how edgy you are?" Widowmaker teased.
Reaper sighed again. "Imagine if you got into a fight to the death with your former best friend, which ends with an explosion which destroys your workplace and supposedly kills both of you..." Reaper invited. "Now imagine you walk away from that, SOMEHOW without a single scratch on you! You honestly think anyone will ever take you seriously when you tell them!?"
"I still don't take you seriously." Widowmaker assured him. "Mostly because you dress like a twelve-year-old in a Halloween store."
"And you're one to talk?" Reaper snarled. Widowmaker didn't respond. "Your skin is blue because your heart barely beats? When your heart beats once a minute, you die, you don't turn into a smurf."
"It's the truth!" Widow defended herself. "I was made into a living weapon so that..."
"How is a reduced heartrate an improvement!?" Reaper interrupted. "Genji is a living weapon! His arm dispenses shurikens! What can you do? A convincing impression of a corpse?"
"I was made into a deadly sniper!" Widowmaker snapped.
"The sniper rifle was deadly before you picked it up." Reaper taunted. "Lots of people kill people with them without having to paint themselves blue first!"
"It's not paint!"
"And who exactly do you expect to believe that those goggles are necessary? Did Talon give you six, invisible eyes, too?"
Unseen by Reaper, Widowmaker's scowl was slowly replaced by another evil grin. She slowly began to walk to the back of the ship.
"Tracer still hasn't responded to my friend request..." She said, slowly.
"What...?" Reaper was confused, but again, slightly nervous.
Widowmaker's voice took on a sarcastic, pitiful whine. "I think she's still angry about all the times I tried to kill her best friend..."
Reaper spun around and shot to his feet, this time, neglecting the autopilot. The ship began to wobble and tipped downwards slightly.
"I KNEW I DIDN'T LOSE MY DIARY!" Reaper roared at his partner.
"I'm worried I might have blown my chances with her..." Widowmaker continued.
A pair of over-sized shotguns materialized in Reapers hands and, without warning, he open fired at Widowmaker.
"BURN IN HELL!"
Widowmaker sprinted across the ship and leapt for cover, all the while, loudly reciting passages from Reaper's diary, from memory.
"I am so very alone! Why does no one love me? Don't they realise I only kill people when it's profitable?"
As the ship continued its uncontrolled descent, Reaper charged at Widowmaker, diving over her cover and tackling her to the ground, in a shroud of black smoke. He tried to point one of his guns in her face, but she sent it flying from his hand with a thrust of her knee and, with a punch to the face, sent him sprawling across the floor. As Reaper climbed to his feet, he heard the familiar whizz of one of Widowmaker's venom mines, before it attached itself to the front of his coat, moments before Widowmaker trained her rifle onto its deadly payload.
Reaper stood as still as he could, with the ship hurtling wildly towards the ground. He expected Widowmaker to carefully make her way to the cockpit and engage the autopilot, but instead, she stood perfectly still, facing him. She smiled again, and Reaper's heart sank.
"Today I lost five Twitter followers... I didn't know any of them personally, but I couldn't think about anything else all day, and I cried myself to sleep..."
"I'LL KILL YOU!" Reaper bellowed and, oblivious to the poison canister attached to his chest, charged at Widowmaker, pointing his shotguns at her, just before the ship crash-landed with an explosion of ice and snow.
x-x-x
Sombra stood at the rendezvous point, tapping her foot impatiently. The plan had been for the ship to land, cloaked, on an abandoned stretch of road, and for them to continue to Voskaya Industries on foot. The others were supposed to have arrived half an hour ago. The plan would be problematic without them, but the window was closing.
She was just considering leaving without them, when Reaper and Widowmaker's footsteps shortly preceded their arrival. They marched stiffly in her direction, without a word to each other or her.
"Geez, I thought you guys would never..." She began.
"Yeah, whatever." Reaper sulkily interrupted.
"Let's just get this over with..." Widowmaker sighed.