Chapter 1

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She didn't really have much of a choice the first time it happened. She wasn't expecting one of the most wanted criminals in the entire world to come crashing through her apartment window, cursing under his breath and bleeding onto her floor. The Reaper was an imposing figure, even lying wounded in a pile of broken glass. Once he'd gotten up to his feet, he demanded help. He'd held one of his shot guns to her head until he couldn't hold it anymore, but even then he didn't seem afraid. Reaper knew he had control of the situation. He knew that the threat of Talon would ensure that she wouldn't even think of trying to call anyone.

She guesses she must have done her job well, because he came back a few weeks later, clothes torn and bloodied. After a few more visits, it became a routine. She never asks how he got the injuries, never even speaks beyond the questions she needed to ask to help patch him up. He doesn't say anything more than his short answers and orders, and he never takes off the mask or armor.

Most importantly, she never tells anyone about this strange arrangement, and she assumes he does the same.

A few months after their first meeting, she's sitting in her bedroom reading, when the thud of something solid hitting her front door echoes through the apartment. She's almost completely positive who it is, and immediately gets up to answer it. As she opens the door, she's expecting the familiar hooded figure to be standing there impatiently. She isn't expecting that same dark figure to fall on top of her, barely giving her enough time to catch him and steady both of them. He's so heavy that she almost can't support him. When he speaks, his voice is a weak snarl. "What are you waiting for?" She takes that as her cue to haul him inside and close the door. Once it's firmly shut, she tries to get back to their normal routine, helping him to couch. "What's the injury count today?"

"Zero." She looks at him in surprise. "But you're—"

"None of your business. I just needed somewhere to—" He doubles over with a groan of pain, almost bringing both of them down with him. She props him up again. "I thought you said you weren't hurt."

"I'm not."

"But you're hurting." Reaper lets out a dry, wheezing grunt of a laugh. "Like you wouldn't believe. Just let me sit down and leave me alone. It'll pass, and I'll be gone."

She doesn't know what else to do. Usually there's a little more threats, and much less talking. With nothing left to try, she leaves him on the couch, heading quickly back to her room and shutting the door. He's gone by the time she ventures out to make dinner.

A few weeks after that incident, there's a knock at her door. She expects him to act as if last time had never happened, but she desperately wants to ask him about it. Today's injuries look like electric burns, so she guesses she'll be hearing about a fight between Overwatch's Winston and Talon on the news tomorrow. To her surprise, Reaper is the first one to break the silence. "Well, go ahead. Ask."

"What do you mean?" He turns to look at her, and she has the feeling that he has an eyebrow raised beneath that mask. "What do you think I mean? I was certain you'd have questions about my last visit."

"I didn't think you'd want me to ask." Reaper grunts. "Then it's your lucky day. Hurry, before I change my mind."

So she does. His answers are short and vague, but start to help her piece together some answers. Something about an experiment, and how it turned him from a normal human to what he is now, trapped in a constant state of decay and pain. The patches of off-white, sickly skin that she can see through gaps in the armor suddenly make sense. Reaper continues, "I call what you saw an 'episode', which is just a time when the pain gets worse. I have no control over them, and they leave me almost too weak to function." His voice is bitter, and the eyes of his mask are aimed pointedly away from her as he speaks.

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