The Villain Wrangler | Overwatch

Chapter 1

Angelica Coffey sat in the far corner of the seedy bar, studying the room. This was the nineteenth night spent in seedy bars, and she was growing tired of the almost uniform reek of them, sweat and piss and desperation. Idly, she rubbed the twitching muscle in her thigh, willing the pain away. She regarded her beer thoughtfully. If she was unsuccessful tonight, she would give up and tell her boss she had failed. She was on a deadline, after all, and contingencies took time to plan.

The assorted toughs in the bar kept side-eying her. She didn't particularly blame them. She was wearing a neat gray suit, opposed to the rest of the denizens' torn and dirty jeans and shirts. They drank in a sullen silence, occasionally interspersed with the clack of the cue ball striking the others. There was tension in the smoke-thick air, but she ignored it, intent in maintaining her vigil.

She tapped a nail against the glass of the beer bottle, hoping that tonight wouldn't be another waste. She flipped open the folder on the sticky table in front of her and studied the picture of the child within. Christa was a pretty girl, all rosy smiles and golden curls in the top photo. The second, taken only a year later, showed the destruction of the disease in her sunken cheeks and smooth bald head. She was the reason Angelica had spent the past three weeks waiting.

She looked up as the door flung open, and the lights flickered as the door slammed off the wall. The mercenary known only as Reaper walked in as the bar fell silent. The man was intimidating, tall and muscular in a long black coat and bone-white mask, and when he moved, it was with the liquid grace of a top predator. Angelica squared her shoulders and approached the mercenary at the bar.

"Reaper? My name is Angelica Coffey, and I represent the Shooting Star Dream Fulfillment group. There is a little girl, Christa Morrison, who wants to spend her birthday with you. She-"

She broke off as Reaper began to laugh.

"Are you serious?" the masked man asked, incredulous.

Angelica felt something snap in her mind. Grabbing the photos of Christa out of the folder, she reached around him to slap them down on the bar. "That little girl has approximately ten months left to live, and the one thing she wants most in this world is to meet her favorite villain. Now, you are going to shove that attitude back where it came from, and get your ass down to the hospital and make that little girl's day!"

The bar was silent as Reaper stared at her, the full-face mask revealing nothing. After several long moments, he spoke. "Outside." He loomed over her, his voice deep and echoing. Must have a voice modulator in the mask, she thought wildly. Keeping her back straight, refusing to show how terrified she was, she led the way out of the bar.

Once the door closed behind them, he dropped a gauntleted hand on her shoulder, steering her into a dirty alley a few short blocks from the bar. Angelica cooperated, mentally trying to prepare herself for what was coming. Reaper was known to be vicious, and the number of people who had angered him and lived was nonexistent. She stopped at the wall at the end of the alley, drawing a deep breath before turning to face him.

He stood a little ways back, far enough to give her some space, but close enough to still be threatening. He studied her through his mask, his stance showing his amusement.

"So, you were serious. I wonder," he purred, gliding closer and running the back of one taloned finger down her cheek, "how far would you go? Would you trade your life for one visit?"

She swallowed, her mouth suddenly very dry. Her knees were shaking as she looked up into his masked face. She closed her eyes and nodded. "If you won't hurt her, and will spend the time with her, fine."

He chuckled darkly at her words. "I try not to hurt children. However, I need you to scream for the audience." Her eyes flew open as something cold and undefinable slithered up her back, then the shadows slid around her. She screamed as she was jerked up by the shadow tendrils. They set her down with surprising gentleness on the roof of a warehouse nearby. She was still trying to catch her breath as Reaper formed out of the shadows.