#reaper 01

[thecollective-npcs]

location: dr. green’s lab

time: after night hunter run-in

status: closed to @reapxers​

That afternoon, she finds herself in a rare moment, with everything on her official to-do list completed and shipped off to whatever villain required it. The metal table that is generally full of suits and weapons in need of repair or alterations is completely cleared off, and her phone hasn’t once gone off that afternoon with some kind of strange question or request from one of the numerous villains residing upstairs or elsewhere. 

She has half the mind to make herself some tea and ask Black if they were free for a chat. But, then she remembers the rather illuminating conversation she had with Artemis- no, Night Hunter earlier that day, and that there was actually one last thing for her to do before she could really relax. 

After sending Reaper the request to meet her down in the lab, she rolls over another chair to sit next to her own, and as expected Reaper is in her doorway just as she finishes the task. 

“Reaper,” she greets, “I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.” Even if she did she doubts he’ll just say yes and leave. The programming in him was still a strong force, pulling him into completing whatever task either she or another Collective member imposed on him. 

“I figured it was about that time again for a little check up- no maintenance,” she assures him quickly. Whatever “maintenance” his previous handlers had done to him, had left him emotionally scarred enough that she felt the need to always first establish she wasn’t doing it whenever he stepped foot in her lab. 

[dysastral-blog]

“It’s too early to try and be dressing up as the murderer from Scream.” What time of year even was it at this point?

[hxnasxng-blog]

@vvenganza  ♡ ‘ed for a starter!

She’s heard rumors that circulated around the fall of Overwatch and how it aged as badly as a prune underneath the sun. It never did sit well with her. No one ever gave her the concise answers as to what happened and why it did, leaving Hana at a loss to label the past leading of Overwatch as just or not. While she was still in her own world, it was just barely morally correct enough in standing for the pilot to join the recall of the organization in pursuit of her global justice.

She’s also heard of the enemy that went by the alias of Reaper, dressed clad in black robes and unmistakenly antagonistic just by the air that he set off. Had she ever encountered him on a mission? No, she hadn’t. But rumors were never something that Hana could pass off with a wave of a hand when it came to others. 

So who was this in front of her now? She couldn’t help but gawk from a safe distance, even going as far as rubbing at her eyes with the back of her gloves to make sure she hadn’t concocted some sort of hallucination upon arriving at this new place.

This man was said to be dangerous. But people had a tendency to say a lot of things based on personal prejudices and stances.

She walks forward.

“You... You’re Reaper, aren’t you?”

[overheatedcrowarchive2]

@vvenganza

Wiping the seat from his brow, he sighed. This city was a mess; exploring it was getting exhausting. At least he wasn’t alone; Jacklyn remained loyally perched on his shoulder. It wasn’t until he realized she was staring at a figure in the shadows did he stop.

“... Didn’t see you, there.” He says, cursing internally as his Murkrow left his shoulder to sit on a nearby phone line. “That outfit must be warm.”

... Not like he had room to talk.

[verlucii-blog]

@byspite

First day in the new job: it wasn’t so bad, all he really had to do was watch the cash register, that wasn’t so bad. No effort at all and it was easy so it could have been worse.

He still thought the owners were... well they were something alright. Sure they were good enough to give him a job but as the day went on, Noctis began to notice that these people were a little, well... extra.

The cafe had a quiet spell in the afternoon with only a few customers trickling in and out. The customers who were currently being served were being dealt with by one of the owners (he assumed that’s what he was) who called himself Reaper. Noctis instinctively knew this guy’s bad side was not one to be on but he soon realised that every side was his bad side and the unfortunate coffee machine seemed to be on the receiving end of it.

The murmured “die, die, die” from behind him had him turn for a moment, watching as Reaper continued to get the coffee machine working. 

“Are you... okay?” Noctis decided to ask, arms crossed over his chest and he leaned back against the counter and continued Reaper’s struggle. Well, at least he asked...