AN: Hi all, this is my first crack at an Overwatch fic. I've loved the whole backstory of this world since the announcement trailer came out, and based on all the background info out today, I got some ideas I'm excited to share with all of you. Anyway, I hope you enjoy—look forward to reading your reviews!

Prologue: Death Comes

Far below the bustling streets of King's Row, a man dressed in black stalked through the lowest levels of the city's Omnic slums. Despite his heavy boots and the two menacing shotguns holstered loosely underneath his long black coat, he made no sound as he moved through the deserted corridors—like shadow in human form. Underneath his black hood, a mask in the likeness of a steer-skull hid his face.

The red lamps lighting the narrow metal pathway Reaper now walked down cast the world in an eerie glow and seemed to make every shadow more intense. As he came to a junction between two walkways, Reaper ducked down a narrower alley to his left. His employer had clearly chosen their meeting point with the same meticulous attention to detail that he had come to expect in their dealings—always on the outskirts of a populated area, always underground, and always difficult to find.

The alleyway was darker than the walkway he had left, but in the distance Reaper could see the light of a bright green neon sign clashing unpleasantly with the surrounding red glow. This, he knew, was the sign his employer had instructed him to look for. But after only a few steps towards his destination, he froze. He wasn't alone.

The mercenary drew a shotgun from its holster with almost unnatural speed and pointed it into the blackness of a shadowy corner to his right.

"Come out," he growled in a low, guttural voice, "or die."

A long, slender leg emerged from the shadows a few seconds later, followed quickly by the rest of a beautiful woman dressed from head-to-toe in a skin-tight suit of biomesh. Her purple hair was tied into a long braid which swayed behind her as she walked, and the vicious sniper rifle she carried seemed to match its movement perfectly.

"Enchanté, mon ami." the woman purred as she approached on silent feet of her own. She regarded Reaper's outstretched shotgun as she might a dull piece of art before adding, "You're late."

Reaper growled again before sliding his weapons back beneath his coat.

"And you're annoyingly punctual, as usual. Let's get this done." He continued down the alley, with the woman falling in beside him.

As they approached, Reaper found the neon sign displaying some message in the Omnic language attached to a decrepit shack of a building, seemingly uninhabited. With a clawed hand, Reaper knocked on the door once, sending a metallic clang reverberating through the alleyway. For a few long moments, there was nothing but the harsh neon glow and the fading echo of his knock. The woman standing beside him shrugged her shoulders.

"Perhaps no one is home?" she asked snidely. But before he could respond, Reaper heard the sound of footsteps come from the other side of the door.

The man who soon appeared in the doorway was almost comically out of place in their current setting; his dark hair and goatee were neatly trimmed, his sleek black suit freshly pressed, and the watch glimmering on his wrist looked as though it cost more than what the entirety of the Slum's inhabitants would make in a week. He regarded them both for a moment before he spoke.

"Reaper, Widowmaker. You're late."

Reaper could feel Widowmaker's smirk burning into the side of his head, but said nothing. The man stepped down from the doorway and dusted off a nearby oil barrel before sitting down.

"As both of you are no doubt aware, my employer does not respond well to failure." The man's eyes flicked towards Reaper. "Tell me—how did you and a full squadron of Talon's finest men fail to take the Overwatch member data from a monkey?"

Reaper felt his fists clench involuntarily.

"The monkey's presence was...unanticipated. It won't happen again."

"Correct," the faintest flicker of a smile flashed over the man's face. "It won't. This 'Winston' as he calls himself, reactivated the Overwatch Operative Communications Satellite a little over a week ago. Your colleague Sombra is using what little data we recovered from your efforts at Gibraltar to gain access to the satellite relay as we speak."

Reaper wasn't surprised—Sombra had always had more skill when it came to infiltration than himself. He'd always preferred a more…lethal approach to getting what he wanted. Next to him, Widowmaker was leaning on the long shaft of her sniper rifle.

"If ze objective is taken care of, why are we here?" she asked. "You could have just sent us a message and saved me a trip to zis…delightful place."

The man reached behind his makeshift seat and produced a small leather briefcase. From it, he pulled two holo-folders and handed one to each of them.

"My employer has instructed me that both of your services are needed elsewhere for operations of paramount importance. I think you'll both find that your assignments are complementary to your skillsets."

Widowmaker scrolled through her assignment eagerly. Soon however, she was frowning.

"A capture mission?" she asked incredulously. "Of two common outlaws, no less? Zis hardly seems to suit my 'skillset'." The man smiled from his seat.

"I'm sure you'll find these 'common outlaws' to be a much more interesting assignment than you imagine—they have successfully evaded capture from the international community for almost half a year." The man's grin disappeared in an instant, replaced by an air of grave seriousness. "My employer wanted it made very clear that this target is to be delivered unharmed. Kill the fat one with him, if you wish, but Mr. Fawkes is to be kept alive at all costs—is that understood?"

Widowmaker slung her rifle over her shoulder once more and gave the man a swift nod.

"Oui, Monsieur." In one deft move, the marksmen threw her holo-folder high into the air, took aim, and fired four shots straight through it, raining remnants of glass and metal down a few feet away. With that, she began to stalk off the way they had come, smoke still rising from the barrel of her gun. "I'll leave you boys to it," she called over her shoulder. "Au Revoir." From an outstretched hand, a grappling cable shot in and out of sight, and in a blink, Widowmaker disappeared with it into the darkness.

The man turned his attention back towards the remaining mercenary.

"Reaper? I trust you'll be able to carry out this assignment without incident?"

Reaper laughed, and the low, rasping sound rumbled like thunder through the alleyway.

"That's your employer's problem, Mr. Black—he's still learning how to run an army. If you want a information, you send the shadow…" Reaper crushed his assignment in a clawed hand, letting the destroyed device fall to the ground. "…but when you want results, you send Death."