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Sounds like you've gotten plenty of information about her. Hardly see why you're interested in getting more.
Overwatch was a mistake. What happened to it was inevitable, and it fucking burned to the ground. It fucked up everyone who was involved, in varying degrees. Plenty of people, like her husband died. The circumstances of it are too long a story to tell--all you need to know is that it's a sad story that needs a fucking ending. Not to be revived like it currently is.
As for Widowmaker herself, she's not a product of anything. She's human. She's just under a drug that causes her heart rate to slow down to a point of turning her skin that colour.[He's leaving out the sleeper agent bit--also not necessary to tell.]
We work for Talon. So we work together due to our background together--and how we work well together. That's really all there is to it.i like information. why i want it isn't important.
so, overwatch. is that why you don't show your face anymore? got some kind of damage worse than the last time i saw you?
[Apparently when he was told "That's all you need to know" all he heard was "Let's chat about this for the next seven hours."]
so, overwatch. is that why you don't show your face anymore? got some kind of damage worse than the last time i saw you?
[Apparently when he was told "That's all you need to know" all he heard was "Let's chat about this for the next seven hours."]
If you think I believe that for a second, you're wrong. There's always a reason to wanting information, whether or not you think it's important.
And the man you spoke with while we were both not ourselves isn't one that exists anymore. Neither in name, morals, or in physical appearance. It's exactly why I don't show my face anymore.let me rephrase that. it isn't important for you to know. not unless i'm getting something out of it.
looks like we've both got that in common with widowmaker, huh. dying and becoming new, better selves. all the better to kill people that get in our way with.
i want to see your face. but i'm guessing that doesn't surprise you.
looks like we've both got that in common with widowmaker, huh. dying and becoming new, better selves. all the better to kill people that get in our way with.
i want to see your face. but i'm guessing that doesn't surprise you.
It's a common circumstance. Especially when you work with organizations who are willing to throw away the lives of just about anyone to make the government look good.
And I'm telling you that you don't want to see my face.
It doesn't surprise me that you want to. And it won't surprise me when you reply that 'you don't care' what I look like under it, either. A bet like that? It's in your favour, and we both know it. As I told you before, it's not your opinion I care about.
Instead, we'll make an agreement.
I'll show you what's under it, and you don't say a damn thing about it.
And it'll be the first and last time.i know everything.
[Should Reaper be concerned with how quickly Dodger gets there? Probably, because his room is nowhere near the 8th floor and he manages to flash into existence almost immediately after he sends his text. Wearing a smile that manages to be both lazy and excited.]
Long time no see.
[Should Reaper be concerned with how quickly Dodger gets there? Probably, because his room is nowhere near the 8th floor and he manages to flash into existence almost immediately after he sends his text. Wearing a smile that manages to be both lazy and excited.]
Long time no see.
[Yeah, it's every fucking bit concerning, both in text and in action. He's not unused to people just appearing out of thin air--Nico does it around him often enough, and he does it himself. So instead of looking startled or any bit surprised, he just turns his head from where he's sitting, offering the other nothing more than a lazy turn of his head.]
Hasn't been that long.
[There's absolutely no buildup to his next action, either. No slow, careful removal of his mask, but rather, he simply reaches up to tug it off, with a nearly 'are you satisfied' air to his movements and expression.]
Hasn't been that long.
[There's absolutely no buildup to his next action, either. No slow, careful removal of his mask, but rather, he simply reaches up to tug it off, with a nearly 'are you satisfied' air to his movements and expression.]
[An expression that's... hard to read, what with how his eyes seem to be sunken into his head. Hollow, dark black pits where bright whites with dark brown irises once sat. The core of his pupil little more than a glowing red ember that gives his pallid, dark skin an unearthly glow.
Once healthy dark skin is marred, visible vains showing on his face--scars that might have once looked good look like jagged cracks in his skin that nearly glow at the core--as if he's still burning just under the surface of skin and scar tissue.
It doesn't help the appearance of 'something burning' as black fog seems to slowly seep out from the patches of muscle and skin that are broken--even more so from a section of his cheek that's entirely missing flesh, showing teeth nearly up to his jawline in a smile that would be far too large were he to ever make the expression.
He doesn't offer a single word.]
Once healthy dark skin is marred, visible vains showing on his face--scars that might have once looked good look like jagged cracks in his skin that nearly glow at the core--as if he's still burning just under the surface of skin and scar tissue.
It doesn't help the appearance of 'something burning' as black fog seems to slowly seep out from the patches of muscle and skin that are broken--even more so from a section of his cheek that's entirely missing flesh, showing teeth nearly up to his jawline in a smile that would be far too large were he to ever make the expression.
He doesn't offer a single word.]
[Dodger would offer a quip, but... then the mask is off and he's absolutely blown away.
Dodger has always been a very sick, twisted person. His description of a perfect human being would be far from conventional, and he's never expected anyone to understand or approve of it. But here he sees a man who he already knew to be intelligent, untrusting and callous, wracked by the scars that are left from what he can only assume was a literal trip through hell. Proof that he's lived through things worth calling a life.
He looks unique, and broken, and perfect. And for a while Dodger's gaze just flits over each inch of his skin, taking in every detail. If he's not going to get the chance again, he wants this burned into his memory.]
Shit... you weren't kidding.
Dodger has always been a very sick, twisted person. His description of a perfect human being would be far from conventional, and he's never expected anyone to understand or approve of it. But here he sees a man who he already knew to be intelligent, untrusting and callous, wracked by the scars that are left from what he can only assume was a literal trip through hell. Proof that he's lived through things worth calling a life.
He looks unique, and broken, and perfect. And for a while Dodger's gaze just flits over each inch of his skin, taking in every detail. If he's not going to get the chance again, he wants this burned into his memory.]
Shit... you weren't kidding.
Don't make a habit of weaving elaborate stories, kid.
[And it would be when he speaks that the other would be forced to realise that the hollow, grating sound that his voice makes isn't some effect from wearing the highly stylized mask. The sound of it echoing out from a burned out throat that sounds wholly supernatural.
When he speaks, black smoke escapes his mouth as if he's been smoking, curling up and around the exposed teeth on his cheek, and between his lips. Even the gums of his teeth are greying as he scowls a little.]
Satisfied?
[And it would be when he speaks that the other would be forced to realise that the hollow, grating sound that his voice makes isn't some effect from wearing the highly stylized mask. The sound of it echoing out from a burned out throat that sounds wholly supernatural.
When he speaks, black smoke escapes his mouth as if he's been smoking, curling up and around the exposed teeth on his cheek, and between his lips. Even the gums of his teeth are greying as he scowls a little.]
Satisfied?
Not yet.
[His gaze follows the smoke into the sky for a moment, before looking back at Reaper. He looks almost giddy, like a kid who's gotten the go-ahead to open his Christmas presents.
Sure, Reaper said not to touch, but it's almost unconsciously that Dodger takes a step closer and reaches to run his fingers over the ragged skin around that missing cheek. He expects to be stopped, but he can't help hoping.]
[His gaze follows the smoke into the sky for a moment, before looking back at Reaper. He looks almost giddy, like a kid who's gotten the go-ahead to open his Christmas presents.
Sure, Reaper said not to touch, but it's almost unconsciously that Dodger takes a step closer and reaches to run his fingers over the ragged skin around that missing cheek. He expects to be stopped, but he can't help hoping.]
[One moment, he's standing in front of a seated man who looks like a living corpse, and in the next, Reaper's entire form is nothing but a cloud of black fog. It curls and shifts almost violently, flowing around the other in a rush--smelling every bit like burning carbon and ozone. The fog reforms behind the other, a hand on his back as the taller male gives him a shove--his hood having fallen down to his shoulders.]
[He flinches slightly as Reaper loses his form, and whips past him. It's very similar to his own teleportation, so it's not the power that bothers him; it's the forceful way he's rejected, not that he didn't expect it. And when he's shoved he puts minimal effort to stay on his feet, giving Reaper a sullen look.]
Just got curious.
[But if he's given an inch he'll take a mile, and they both know that. So he doesn't expect the line to be redrawn any time soon.]
Just got curious.
[But if he's given an inch he'll take a mile, and they both know that. So he doesn't expect the line to be redrawn any time soon.]
You should make a habit of listening to other people's requests.
[He gives him one last look with those pitted eyes, before he's moving to replace the mask over his horrifying appearance. He hated the feeling of the air on the open wounds on his face--and even if Dodger's reaction isn't as bad as some peoples' had been...
He still hates showing it. He's far more comfortable with his mask on.]
You might gain their confidence easier.
[He gives him one last look with those pitted eyes, before he's moving to replace the mask over his horrifying appearance. He hated the feeling of the air on the open wounds on his face--and even if Dodger's reaction isn't as bad as some peoples' had been...
He still hates showing it. He's far more comfortable with his mask on.]
You might gain their confidence easier.
I'm a kid, remember? I don't like listening.
[There's a bitter note in his tone, but he's doing his best to brush it off. He hates to make it clear that he has any shame, or emotions besides mischief and aggression. But he does realize he makes things harder for Reaper whenever he's involved, and... just has too much pride to fix that without being forced to.]
Did I gain your confidence, then? That why you're showing me your face?
[There's a bitter note in his tone, but he's doing his best to brush it off. He hates to make it clear that he has any shame, or emotions besides mischief and aggression. But he does realize he makes things harder for Reaper whenever he's involved, and... just has too much pride to fix that without being forced to.]
Did I gain your confidence, then? That why you're showing me your face?
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