( april )

[tinkerhell]

Who: Reaper and YOU
When: All of April
Where: Asteroid 276 and other places
What: Catch all for the end of April
Warnings: Shady discussions. There's one general prompt for anyone with enough grumption to climb the tree and stand on Reaper's treehouse porch.

Reaper doesn't spent much time away from his home. In fact, he can often he found mulling about on his porch, contemplating one thing or another, maybe breaking down some sort of alien tech and trying to figure out what makes it tick. Its clear that he's not used to entertaining visitors, given the fact that the ladder up to the top of his home has been broken, leaving it accessible only via strategic climbing or flight of some sort.

Not impossible, but not easy.

Maybe you've come to see if he's managed to weaponize his lizards yet -- there is a collection of colorful species scattered all around the limbs of his treehouse. He doesn't seem to be caring for any of them. Rather, they appear to be sticking around simply due to the fact that his home exists in their territory.

Its a parody of existence, to be certain, but it might be the most benign and normal existence he's ever had. And it shows in the way he can be seen, staring off at nothing with claws twitching, like he doesn't know what to do with himself.

Comments

[tinkerhell]

Tissue sample.

[She shakes it enough and it eventually dissolves into smoke. His expression stays entirely neutral in the face of her scorn. He'd been operating on his own long enough that it doesn't bother him anymore.

Her frowns were no worse than Angela's.]

The Asteroid we've been visiting specializes in genetic engineering.

[vata]

Yours. [Concluded as the smoke coils in its confined space, drawing her attention away from him yet again.

Those internal gears turn, rapid fire as always: a few seconds of silence and all her conclusions keep coming back to there being a reason for it— much like her, he's always been a creature of purpose. She'd have to be blind and dense as stone to start ignoring it now.]

Why?

[tinkerhell]

Its been eight months. Roughly.

[He offers that information, as if it is supposed to answer her question, eyes drifting to the bottle he had given her. He hadn't actually believed it would keep her questions to a minimum, but a part of him might have hoped.]

Overwatch has a strong presence here. Mercy. Tracer. Wilhelm. Amari.
Morrison. All here.

[vata]

[And he's been alone.

Eight months is a long time when you're surrounded by your enemies: she'd been in hiding for years before slinking back out from the shadows, sharper than before, more dedicated than ever to uncovering the truth. But all that time? She had a purpose. A reason to keep her sane when she was methodically covering her tracks from everyone and everything, working through modifications, adapation. Here, like this, Gabriel looks starved out. Tired. If whatever he's doing with those vials is connected to genetic research— connected to Overwatch somehow— she's fairly certain it's the last fading signs of life.

Whatever happened before, maybe she really did arrive just in time.

Sombra sets the vial down. Pushes the rest of them carelessly to one side and opts to perch on top of the desk itself instead of the couch he's left her, pulling a long, long sip from the bottle and ignoring its bitter, earthy sting.]

And our spider?

[Not here. Not if the place looks as ragged as he does— but maybe she'd come and gone. Never hurts to ask.]

[tinkerhell]

Not here. Never was.

[His brow creases when she swipes his vials, claws digging into the arms of his chair. The tissue samples weren't a big deal, he could always shed more. But the blood...well, it wasn't his.]

If those break, you're going to refill them.

[vata]

[It's about what she figured; her heart doesn't break to hear it— going separate ways was always a distant promise between them, and from what she understands, her stay here isn't exactly permanent— but it'd even the odds. Maybe help even out Gabe, too.

Her eyes fall on the way his claws sink deeply into fabric, her voice still nothing short of casual in spite of the fact.]

You still haven't told me what they're for.

[tinkerhell]

[It doesn't concern you is what he wants to say first. Its instinct, after working alone for eight months, after Sombra disappeared to further her own agenda rather than stay and work with him. He didn't blame her.

But he realizes right then that--maybe he actually did blame her.]

The objective is to kill Soldier: 76. Or to cripple him.

[vata]

And nobody else knows about this little plan of yours.

[It's a low, contented hum - that tone of voice Sombra always uses when she's just unearthed something valuable, her attention drifting back towards those phials, mouth curling upwards at the corner.]

[tinkerhell]

One other, potentially. Depends on his answer. But he doesn't know yet.

[He wasn't tied to the idea of using Saren to get what he needed -- it had simply been suggested to him, and he had no other leads.]

[vata]

[For a beat longer she says nothing, opting to neatly rearrange his little collection instead of leaving it strewn across the desk in an unkempt pile. Truth be told, she's impressed: sure Gabriel was Blackwatch, he was used to operating in secret, but following orders and using ingenuity, subtlety, mettle— they're entirely different things. Part of why she was always integral to helping Talon adapt. Which means that no matter how worn through it's left him, she can appreciate what he's done.

...and help him finish it.

She slips down off the edge of the desk, slides in closer to him at the near end of the couch, one arm draped lazily across the arm rest so that they're not having this conversation at opposite sides of the room. Friends.] You sure you can trust him?

[tinkerhell]

No.

[His claws in the arms of the chair undo themselves, and he folds his arms across his chest. A more familiar gesture, judging how the lines in his face also relax slightly.]

But he was the option I had. An alien named Saren.

[vata]

An alien. [Sombra repeats slowly, syllables struck by that heavy accent— punctuated by the fact that she's still working to swallow down the idea of foreign planets and even more foreign creatures. A week isn't nearly long enough, apparently.

With a mild shrug the bottle's finished off, emptied out and set on the floor with a gentle clink.]

Shit.

Don't think I'll ever get used to that.

[tinkerhell]

You will. This one hates humans. You'll get used to that too.

[His arms unfold and he stands, presumably to go retrieve his mask. Sombra may have already seen him, but there's no reason to prolong it. It makes him feel less vulnerable.]

Did you rent yet?

[vata]

[Nooooooo leave it offffff Gabrielitooo

She rolls her eyes, dropping her head to rest against her arm in lazy protest as he pulls away. Puffs out a breath that's about as disapproving as anyone could expect. People— aliens with predjudices like that? They're not easy to make deals with. Mostly because it'd be easy for them to justify screwing anyone they don't like over in the process without hardly any leverage in play.

But seeing as how the Reaper is more an icon than a human being, well, he'd probably be fine.] Guess that means I should let you handle him, then.

[That commentary aside, she adds, shrugging her unencumbered shoulder:] Nah. Not yet. Wanted to see what my options were first.

[tinkerhell]

We'll see what he wants in exchange.

[He says it as he comes back into view, mask back in place where it belongs. His eyes stay trained on Sombra as she answers his second question, and he cracks his neck as he gestures around him.]

Don't bother. This thing is meant for multiples. Better you stay near here.

[vata]

[On second thought, it's a good thing that mask is back where it belongs, because the moment he presses the offer of her staying out onto the table, Sombra's attention shifts with vicious precision: she tips her head upright slowly, grin slipping wider by calculated degrees.]

...you missed me.

[tinkerhell]

[The lines of what is visible of his jaw tighten in irritation.]

There's an entire planet to colonize. If you're going to be of any use, then you need to be here.

[vata]

[Her other hand is tucked under her chin to complete the look of absolute, smug satisfaction as she coos:]

I missed you too.

[tinkerhell]

[He growls in irritation but offers nothing further on the subject.]

Find something useful to do in the mean time.

[vata]

[No scathing dismissals, no vehement denial... ]

I could start by hooking up those monitors of yours. See about giving you a real security system for a change.

[Consider it her way of making up for having a little fun at a time like this. A gesture she caps off by pointing a few glowing nails towards his dusty, inactive displays.]

[tinkerhell]

Do it.

[No hesitation. He's been itching to keep eyes on Ana and Jack in particular, since they did the convenient task of housing with one another. Having surveillance set up rather than having to trek back and forth would be invaluable.]

[vata]

Ahorrita.

[Which, considering how she's draped contentedly across her section of the couch, means he'll be waiting at least a few minutes longer.

She wants to help him— and she absolutely will— but she's been stuck treading water ever since she woke up here, expecting the worst. Finding some kind of anchor, some kind of familiarity and low, quiet space, means that she's not exactly eager to do anything but let the heat of that beer simmer in her veins.

That, and have a conversation with those coalesced shadows standing just a few feet away.]

[tinkerhell]

[He knows by now what that means -- and he's oddly fine with it. After months of working alone, struggling just to get traction while also trying to stay off the radar of the command crew, Reaper is admittedly tired. Nothing would distract him from his goal -- but it was nice to know that something was finally going right.

Assuming Sombra didn't get bored.]

[vata]

[A planet this big with so much to explore and understand? Sombra's convinced she'll stay busy for a long, long time.]

So.

[She starts, peeling herself away from back of the couch.] Which part of this place is mine?

[tinkerhell]

Its all mine.

[Just to be clear.]

You can choose any level but the top.

[The rest of the house hadn't gotten used. He'll worry about giving her too much free reign later. Right now -- maybe a piece of him is glad to see her in functional capacity.

Now if they could just bring him Widowmaker, things might start falling back into place.]