Working For Reaper

Even amongst minions, there was a pecking order, and Mike was reasonably close to the top. As a result, it was up to Mike to raise a delicate issue with his employer. He took a deep breath to gather his courage, made sure he was wearing his body armour, and then knocked on the door.

"Sir?"

"Come in." The voice was a harsh rasp.

Mike opened the door. His employer was sitting at his desk skimming through what were most likely top-secret files that had been illegally procured, quite possible in a manner that involved a great deal of bloodshed and lots of explosions. They must have been fairly old, however, since Mike would have remembered going on a mission like that. As usual, Reaper was wearing his robes and his mask.

"What is it, Mike?" Reaper growled. "Did we run out of coffee again?"

Mike shook his head. Running out of coffee was indeed one of the more common problems when hiding out in a super-secret lair. "Uh, no, sir. I made sure to buy plenty the last time we were out." He paused. This was going to be so awkward. "It's… well, the others and I have been talking…"

Reaper sat up in his chair. "Is it the pay, Mike?" He tapped one of his shotguns. "Is it?"

"No, no," Mike said quickly. "The pay is fine. It's great, actually. Plus, we even get dental on our employee insurance. That's been a lifesaver, you know, since we get punched in the face a lot and things are always exploding and throwing shrapnel and debris everywhere."

"You're not reconsidering villainy, are you?" Reaper asked, exasperation creeping into his tone. "I thought we discussed this before you and the others signed on. I am a bad guy, and I do bad things for a whole lot of money. So long as you work for me, you'll help out with those bad things, and I'll make sure you get a cut of the profits."

Mike shook his head. "No, sir. None of us are reconsidering villainy. We'd rather work for you than for anyone else."

It was true. Reaper wasn't loyal to any particular cause or organisation, but he could be loyal to individuals – like the men and women he'd personally hired to be his minions after an especially useless squad of Talon operatives had botched an important mission.

"Good. Replacing you would be a hassle that I don't need. So what's the problem then? Is it about our last mission? I know Widowmaker disappeared for a while, but she was fighting Tracer." Reaper made an angry sound. "Tracer must have gotten better. Widowmaker was gone for almost an hour. It was a miracle that we managed to complete the mission."

Mike had a few ideas about why Windowmaker had been gone for almost an hour, and it definitely had something to do with Tracer getting better. But Tracer hadn't gotten better at fighting. Nope, if he had to bet on it, he'd say Tracer had gotten a whole lot better at something else entirely, not that he was about to ask Widowmaker about it. He enjoyed living.

"Uh, that's not it, sir."

"Then what is it?"

"Well… to be honest… it's about that thing you do."

"What thing?" Reaper rumbled. "You need to be more specific." He tapped his shotgun again, which was never a good sign.

"You know that thing where you spin around shooting everywhere and killing everything?" Mike asked. Reaper nodded. "It's not exactly working out for me and the others."

"What?" Even if he couldn't see Reaper's face, Mike could sense the other man's eyes narrowing ominously. "Are you saying that you've got a problem with my strongest move?"

"How do I put this… it's not that we don't appreciate how devastating that move is and how you can kill dozens of people in a couple of seconds, but you kind of need to warn us first. I mean… you're just shooting everywhere. We're not bulletproof, sir, and your aim isn't exactly stellar when you're using that move."

Reaper twitched.

"I mean you put Paul in the hospital the last time you used that. You shot him in the leg. Before that it was Bill. You shot him in the, uh, upper thigh. And before that, it was Jill. You got her in shoulder." Mike rubbed his stomach. "There was also that time you shot me in the stomach. Twice."

"Oh." Reaper leaned back in his chair. "I did not know that."

"We thought we should keep it quiet. We didn't want to trouble you, and the insurance covered everything. But we're beginning to sense a bit of a trend, so we'd like it if, maybe, you could give us a warning or something first, so we could all get behind cover. That way, you'd only be hitting the good guys while the rest of us stay out of the way."

Reaper coughed. "I see. Okay, right. I can do that."

Mike smiled. "Thank you, sir!"

Reaper nodded. "By the way… your teeth look whiter."

"Thanks." Mike smiled again. "Remember, we get dental on our employee insurance."

X X X

After successfully sorting things out with Reaper, Mike had a spring in his step as he sipped a cup of coffee and patrolled one of the more isolated corridors near Widowmaker's quarters. He wasn't sure there was any need to do patrols – this was a super-secret lair in the middle of nowhere – but it couldn't hurt to be careful.

However, he screeched to a halt as he heard the sound of laughter and giggling. His eyes narrowed. Laughter and giggling near Widowmaker's quarters? Someone must have snuck in. He retreated around a corner and pulled out his radio.

"I have possible intruders near Widowmaker's quarters," Mike murmured. "I'm going to take a closer look."

Mike readied his rifle and then crept toward the sound of the laughing and giggling. He could almost have sworn that Widowmaker was one of the people laughing, but that was crazy. She had a sadistic cackle, not a carefree laugh. He waited a heartbeat longer and then burst around the corner.

"Hands up! Now… huh?"

Widowmaker was there with Tracer slung over her shoulder. She appeared to have one hand on the other woman's, uh, posterior.

"Is that… Tracer?" Mike stuttered.

Widowmaker's eyes widened for a second, and then she coughed and gave Tracer what Mike could only describe as a desperate look.

"Yes," Widowmaker said slowly. "It is Tracer. I have, uh, captured her." She poked Tracer in the ribs. "I repeat: I have captured her."

"Oh, right." Tracer flailed around. "Oh, no. I've been captured. Whatever shall I do? Clearly, I am not here of my own free will. Help! Woe is me! Help!" She paused and then continued after seeing Mike's utterly unimpressed look. "No… someone save me… uh… from… um… death and stuff. Yeah."

Widowmaker closed her eyes for a moment, muttering under her breath in French, before she opened her eyes again and turned to face Mike. "Mike, I have captured Tracer. I am going to interrogate her in my room. It will be a very thorough interrogation. It will likely take all night. However, it must also remain secret."

"Secret?" Mike would eat his uniform if interrogation was actually what Widowmaker had in mind for Tracer.

"Yes. Do not tell Reaper, or I will shoot you. Repeatedly. Until you die."

"Uh… sure." Mike took out his radio. "This is Mike. It was a false alarm. There are no intruders. Everything is fine."

Widowmaker nodded and resumed walking down the corridor to her room with Tracer still slung over her shoulder. "Thank you."

Tracer waved. "Cheers, love."

X X X

Author's Notes

As always, I do not own Overwatch. I am not making any money off of this either.

Working for villains is never easy, especially when one of them is shooting everywhere and the other one is 'abducting' their 'archenemy' for thorough interrogation. Oh well, at least the pay is good and there is dental cover.

As always, I appreciate feedback. Reviews and comments are welcome.