see you later space ghost

[fantasmaniac]

Who| Reaper + you
What| Ghosting around as per usual
Where| Biome, Unofficial Talon Headquarters, and other shady places.
Notes| Some open threads, some closed.


[ ＢＩＯＭＥ ≫ OPEN ]
It's almost frustrating how often he comes back here, like simply being there will tell him what his purpose here will be. No, he thinks, there's absolutely no purpose here for him. The longer he spends here, trying to work alongside these Legionnaires and play by their rules, the more his aspirations and ambitions falter. He's a big picture guy, sure, but this still feels like a whole new scale. It's still too big, too wide a spectrum for him to work with. He needs a specific focus, and he doesn't need to focus on killing a monster. Leave that kind of shit to the people who are already invested in the task.

Even Reaper knows his limitations. Let the super-heroes deal with the looming disaster in the distant future. He's got patience, but even that can grow thin when each investigation, each encounter with villains and supernatural shenanigans bear no fruits. Not for the plans he and his associates had in mind, anyway.

The scraped away lines of Jack Morrison's chalk-line shape has been left untouched, surprisingly enough. He didn't want to restore it, like doing so would cover up Jack's existence on this bizarre ship. It grounds him, strangely enough. Jack always did have that effect on him. He remembers the day Jack left for his so-called mission, and after a couple months passed, he figured the idiot went and got himself killed.

So incredibly disappointing. Reaper had been looking forward to that special sort of drama, the kind he thrived on, and exploited for whatever reason he had planned.

"Thought I told you not to go and get yourself killed."

His boot scrapes heavily at the smudged out line of Morrison's head.


[ ＳＡＦＥＨＯＵＳＥ ≫ CLOSED ]
If anyone called him out on his moping, he tell himself that he's most Definitely Not. That being said, he's the very picture of moping as he's standing in the room that Sombra had so graciously given him. Not out of a fit of uncharacteristic nostalgia, but mostly to gather things he'd often left behind. He has a few untouched shotgun shells from before his incarceration with the fun police, which may probably come in handy should his plan pull through.

If there's anyone that seemed ready to get off this ship, it was Sombra and Widowmaker. He'll definitely have to tell at least one of them before going through with the Plan: Jump Ship. Technically... he doesn't have to, but it's probably smarter to keep tabs on some thinly spread backup than have nothing at all, and he probably feels this tiny sense of obligation. If all else fails, rendezvousing with and bringing back at least one of Talon's most guarded secrets and revered weapons would be better than bringing back none.

Imagining Sombra running off to do her own thing at least made some sense. Widowmaker, on the other hand, would be much more difficult to explain if he showed up without her.

The door slightly ajar, he makes no efforts to hide the fact that he's taking his guns apart, cleaning them, and about to put them back together. It's a mundane but delightfully tedious task that gave him something to do while he did his thinking. He might miss this feeling when his abilities fully return (at least, he hopes they do), but there are way more pros to being able to produce infinite guns than cons.


[ WILDCARD ]
HMU if there's a scenario you'd like to play out with Reaps. He's basically thinking about hunting down Jack via mission logs and reports, then once he gets to the destination maybe hijacking a ship or something— anything to get off this ship! Either way, he's a little more solemn than usual, and he won't outright attack anyone that isn't meaning him harm since he still needs to stay on the Legion's goodside for the mission. He's not feeling particularly unsocial but he isn't going around mingling either, so same ol' Reaper.

Comments

Biome

[justice_from_above]

Fareeha's daily jog through the habitats always unveils something new. It's such a large, sprawling space; dedicated to so many different sentients. She changes up her route often, finding new favorite corners and different environments andexperiencing the worlds' that others find comforting.

What she's not expecting is to stumble onto something so eerily familiar as Overwatch's Swiss Headquarters. She doesn't catch it at first, but considering it's a destroyed and burning building she makes her way in to see if there are any survivors. Did this just happen? Wouldn't they have made an emergency announcement?

A hand on the crumbling wall of the hallways, dusting away gathered soot and char to read a directional marking underneath, and as soon as it's visible she feels a sharp tug at her gut. It's a mix of fear and regret, and confusion. What was this doing here? Who would have wanted this to be their one link to back home?

Widowmaker?

She pushes further in to see if she can find any answers, brows furrowed in that proud determination. She hears someone talking in the distance - not Widowmaker, by the sound of it - and makes her way as quietly as she can. Who is it? Is this their habitat, and if so; why?

[fantasmaniac]

It's daytime, so he isn't surprised at the thought of someone coming across his destroyed habitat, and even less surprised at anyone's curiosity of it. Especially if they're someone from his world. That also being said, he is surprised that it took Fareeha this long to come across it. Perhaps it simply was out of her way and chance brought her this way today.

He can hear footsteps approaching, the terrain giving very little opportunities for stealth unless you were intimately aware of every step (he was — he's been visiting this biome more often than he'd like). Fareeha's footsteps are quiet, though, and he gives her credit where credit is due.

Dissipating into a fine black mist, quiet and crawling, he maneuvers himself in a dark shadowy place behind her, under the arches of fallen steel and concrete. She'll be able to hear the quiet whoosh of air as he moves, as he's doing his darned best to keep her guessing.

[justice_from_above]

Fareeha had been on high alert the moment she heard someone else here, and those instincts are pushed to their limit as the voice dies out and the wind rushes behind her. She jumps, pivoting and instinctively throwing up a defensive stance but - there's no one there. At least, no one that she can see. She holds still for a moment, then forces herself to close her eyes and let out a slow, steady breath to calm down.

It's her imagination. She's keyed up because this place is too familiar, pulling on well-guarded memories and poking at old wounds. After a moment, she turns back the way she was going and tries to ignore the prickle at the back of her neck.

[fantasmaniac]

Playing cat & mouse can be amusing at times, but Reaper isn't in the mood for prolonged games. He uses this opportunity to see if she's armed, or here with some sort of intent other than curiosity and horror. When it seems likely that it's the latter, he finds a more suitable place to ghost to, keeping himself low to the ground.

He recalls the fresh memory of doing recon alongside her right on this ship, the image of the child so jarring to their current situation. She called out to him, saluting. She looked up to him along with her mother, Jack, everyone...

A shuddering sigh echoes throughout the habitat, and he perches himself like a shadowy crow on a ledge on her 2. Just a little to the side, but not quite out of sight. He already knows she won't be able to reach him quickly enough at this height.

closed; you know the drill

[vata]

[She looks like herself again. Well— more like herself: no more azure blue, no more extensions or armored plating. She might go back to it eventually; the suit, after all, wasn't bad.

But it's nice to shed the layers every once in a while. Not all of them (never all of them, not until she's put whoever's at the heart of all those intertwined conspiracies to rest) just enough to say goodbye to Azúcar. Forever. Screw you, being nice.]

You're looking cheerful.

[Leaning against the doorframe, arms casually folded, it's a fairly innocuous reunion after their entertaining jump through time.]

[fantasmaniac]

[ He doesn't physically react, like he's expecting her. While he remembers being very suspicious of her when they'd been shot back in time, he realized it hardly changed his opinion of her. She's still the same, just more careful, more sneaky, and with bigger goals. In a way, it's almost hilariously comforting. ]

You're looking yourself. Guess the cat's out of the bag.

[ It's about damn time. He vaguely wonders how Oxton reacted... not well, he imagines. ]

[vata]

Couldn't be helped.

[There's an offhanded shrug as she slips inside to take up a perch across the top of the desk set up in the corner across from him, as though she'd been waiting for some kind of acknowledgement in place of in invitation.]

I always was too popular for my own good.

[If it's strange to see the difference between who he is now and who he was before, it doesn't show. He might divide his life up into chapters— much like Amélie herself— but from where Sombra's sitting, the differences aren't many.]

So. [She hums, lifting her brows.] What's with the gun show?

[fantasmaniac]

[ An audible 'clack' as he snaps something into place. Declawed hands hold a microfiber rag, preferring to clean things the old fashioned way when it came to his belongings, and casually begins to clean the metal. ]

I used to clean my guns before every mission.

[ He has a vague plot in mind, but it'll require some time gathering information. Some interplanetary information. He knows the Time Trapper is one who brought them here, and probably the only one who can send them back. Travelling by ship sounds like it'll be beyond his lifetime, and by the time he reaches Earth- their Earth -it'll probably be gone. Swallowed by the sun or something crazy like that. ]

[muroieda]

"Aww! I didn't know ya cared so much!"

The voice may come as a surprise, but thankfully (?) it's not that Morrison's chalk outline suddenly grew a disembodied, Australian-accented voice. No, that'd belong to you-know-who, standing behind Reaper and wearing nothing but pyjama pants and a lightweight, matching sleep-hoodie, hands stuffed into the hoodie's pockets. Because why not.

Junkrat looks down at the chalk outline, and mutters a half-disappointed "Oh," at it. "Ya were talkin' ta that bloke," nodding his head towards said spot on the floor. He takes a few more steps towards it to lean over it and inspect it in detail. Then, he looks to the left--the right--taking in the biome's scenery without commentary.

He leans towards Reaper, the back of his hand up to cover his mouth as if to spare Reaper from the potential embarrassment in front of an audience. "Ya know they don't actually do that, roight?" he whispers loudly. "Urban myth. Contaminates the scene and all that."

[fantasmaniac]

It's definitely thankful that Morrison's chalk outline isn't talking to him right now. He'd definitely think his mind had gone. Someone would say it already has, but he'd adamantly claim that his mind is clearer than ever. Fortunately, even in his sleepwear, Fawkes is all loose hinges and heavy footfalls, so hearing him approach wasn't difficult. Reaper simply didn't realize it was him to begin with.

While he doesn't bear any sort of animosity towards him in particular, having his space so readily invaded has him bristling just a touch. It's a good thing he's got enough patience to deal with all the colorful characters he's got in his life right now. What's one more, eh?

"I know my way around a crime scene. What do you want, Fawkes?"

This chalk outline was simply an attempt at some dark humor. Seems it's a tough crowd out here.

[muroieda]

"Ah! Emo kid stuff. Nah yeah, that's ace. I can get behind that!"

Junkrat is only a tough crowd because he's well-versed in the art. For that reason, he's able to appreciate it too.

"A full night's sleep," he answers honestly, shrugging with his hands in a way that flaps open his hoodie for a brief moment. "Certainly wasn't finding it in me own habitat; figured I might find it here."

He tilts his head towards Reaper in suggestion.

"Reckon ya can hit me hard enough ta help a bloke out?"

Yeah, about that dark humor -- Q.E.D.

[fantasmaniac]

Reaper gives him another once over. He didn't think the guy was actually trying to find another place to sleep, but just had wandered outside in them out of convenience. He slowly cracks his knuckles; with his SEP enhancements, it'd be a cinch to knock someone out cold.

"You trying to tempt me?"

Because he'll do it, and nobody can say Junkrat wasn't literally asking for it.

Safehouse

[araignee_du_soir]

Amélie pushed the door to the room fully open as she let herself in, not bothering to close it. She was in a pair of loose pants - to hide the bandage still on her thigh - and a tank top, a handgun tucked into the back of her pants. She never went anywhere unarmed while injured, even their so-called safehouse. If it could even be called that anymore.

Instead of engaging Reaper in conversation, she simply leaned against the wall with her weight favoring that injured leg of hers. Arms crossed, she watched and waited. Eventually, he was going to address the various situations on hand. As it was, he was very lucky that she lacked any depth of emotion... or she would've punched him by now.

Amélie had not liked essentially being alone without a shred of Talon support in a foreign dimension. While capable of and willing to take independent action, she was always more comfortable with a member of Command within relatively easy access.

[fantasmaniac]

While Reaper normally could give two shits about people changing their attire, he always notices the little things that Lacroix does. Not out of curiosity or genuine interest, but a noticeable change in her behavior or habits usually point to something different about her- for better or for worse. She favors a certain practicality and style to her outfits from what he can tell, and her utterly dressed down look raises a small question mark over his head.

But, seeing as he can't see anything visibly bothering her, he ignores it for now. He'll address it if it leads to something bigger. Her silence, however, shows that she's waiting for something from him. Orders. A direction. Anything.

He really dropped the ball with that time warp bullshit. Nobody knows Gabriel Reyes on Legion World, but those familiar with Overwatch and its history will surely put 2 and 2 together. On top of his own restlessness, their entire cover has been compromised, and even the rules of the Legionnaires won't smooth out the tension between them and those opposed to Talon.

"The longer we stay, the more we're at the mercy of the Time Trapper," he starts, clicking a piece together. He doesn't know what happened to Lacroix during that bizarre time but he can't imagine it was anything short of frustrating.

"Putting it simply: We're jumping ship."

He assumes she'll follow if it means getting off this goddamn hero ship.

[araignee_du_soir]

She didn't respond right away, taking the time to do a thorough analysis of Reaper's words. Given recent developments - especially the one she had yet to reveal to either Talon teammate - Amélie felt it prudent to turn over the varying possibilities that would stem from such action in her mind. In her detached manner, she could look at it from several angles. Her conclusion was quite easy to come to in the end.

"That is a stupid idea."

[fantasmaniac]

"It's not as bad as it sounds."

He lets out a low, amused sort of sound. She's not wrong— it's incredibly stupid, and he knows his lack of proper intel, outside connections/support and resources leave him high and dry should he hit a dead-end. But fortunately he won't be jumping off the side of the rails or anything, nor moving right away. He has a little bit of unfinished business to take care of, anyway.

"I'm going on a man-hunt, first. Need to confirm something."

Not that he expects Amelie to care about his connection to Morrison, but he's not asking her to come with him. Just letting her know his whereabouts the weeks to come. The Legion World's mission roster should list his whereabouts upon his deployment.

[unrecovered]

"You know he's not dead, right?"

It's not the first time Wash has wandered into the smoldering wreck of a biome; it is the first time he's been there at the same time as Reaper. Had to happen sometime, right?

And here Edgy McGhostface is, talking to the chalk outline like it's a friend. Like Soldier was a friend. Hell of a thing to even consider.

He approaches from what would be ten o'clock, giving Reaper a good line of sight. No sneak attack here, he promises. "We've seen how the Legion treats its dead - present company notwithstanding," he adds, because some days he cannot help himself. "Odds are the Time Trapper just yanked him back to your dimension. Provided existence itself doesn't get eaten, he'll probably be there when you get home."

[fantasmaniac]

Reaper tries his very darn best not to let out an indignant huff; Of course his first thoughts are to think Morrison of all people isn't dead, but he was a realist. Though, Wash's words puzzle him. The Time Trapper? Right... he'd forgotten just how ridiculous and broken its powers were, that being said: How convenient.

He moves his foot from the chalk, arms folding across his chest slowly as he watches Wash like a hawk. Dead jokes are pretty par for the course by now, so he's learned to tolerate them. Maybe.

"Can't just put in a request for relocation then, can we?"

There's gotta be a shit ton of paperwork for something like that. While he's not on good terms with Wash, his pettiness has all but simmered and his tone at least seems... civil. Not quite conversational, but he doesn't have any plans to deck the guy in the visor.

[unrecovered]

Good, because the last thing Wash needs is to wind up in Kid Q's office again. (Not that he wouldn't add another one of Reaper's guns to his collection, but he's not here to fight if he doesn't have to. Physically, at least.)

Instead, Wash just shrugs. "I mean, you probably could - I'd be surprised if the Legion doesn't have ancillary bases or outposts somewhere - but there's not really a good reason to leave the central hub. Plus, if the paperwork trail cuts off, it's not a transfer - it's the asshole yanking all our chains." Wash's opinions on the Time Trapper: let him show you them.

And then, because he still can't help himself: "Sounds like he was your friend."

[truefaceofthelaw]

"Lovely place. Violates about forty different building codes from what I can see right now, but still a lovely place,"

A low, cheerful, gravel voice calls out through the air as Rico treads with heavy footfalls signaling his approach. His arms swing jauntily, boots thumping against the ground as he kicks his way through the debris. He's not the kind of person to mind at all that he's interrupting somebody's clearly introspective thoughts - or even that he's intruding on their habitat. Coming to a halt, he tilts his head to the side to properly inspect the burning remains, sweeping his gaze over both the landscape and the creator.

One way or another, this place has piqued his curiosity, and he wants to know more about the kind of person who would carve out their own little kingdom to look like this.

"I'd recommend it be torn down, but - what the hell. Looks well on its way there already."

[fantasmaniac]

Reaper makes no attempt to stop the guy from stomping through the debilitated territory, only allowing the slightest roll of his neck. An eyeroll of sorts, but more in the shoulders. Invasive law enforcement types don't bother him too much— he usually lets them do their thing and wait until they leave, as they tend to stop talking to him through sheer intimidation factor alone. But he's nobody to the Legionnaires; at least, nobody to be feared.

Still kind of irritating, but he's gotten used to it.

"It's a reminder," he snarls, "and it'll remain burning in this suspended state for as long as I want it to."

He isn't interested in changing its state, whether it'd be piles of ash and chunks of building or to its former glory. It's this moment right here; one of the many catalysts, but this one much more personal to him than the others.

[truefaceofthelaw]

Rico is all too aware of the difficulties of conveying an eye-roll while your face is covered, and the subtle expression in Reaper's shoulders delights him. Even though it's a gesture technically aimed at him, his amusement just grows bigger as he mimics Reaper's shrug back at him perfectly.

Fierce. He's going to like talking to this one.

"Hated this place that much then?" he asks conversationally, as he faux-admires the view. "If this place was such an eyesore, should've hired better contractors. Some of it is still standing, for starters."

Rico tuts. Sloppy work.

Biome

[touchmydragon]

"I did not expect a bloodthirsty mercenary to be so sentimental."

Of course, the words were filled with a mechanical sarcasm, his words being filtered through a speaker in his enhancements. Genji still does not know Reaper outside of the reputation he carries but he is still a ninja, one who was ironically given appropriate training by the person he was speaking with.

Now that he announced his presence, his steps were louder on the floor. Genji didn't see what was there but he heard words, which was enough.

[fantasmaniac]

Gabriel had been surrounded by sarcastic punks since Day 1, and even as Reaper, that doesn't seem to have changed. It's almost comforting in the fact that his old subordinates haven't really changed much. Just a lot less angrier.

He doesn't bother trying to destroy or cover up the chalk outline of Jack Morrison. It's not like he could hide it from Genji no matter what he did at this point anyway. Damn ninjas.

"Maybe I wanted to do the honors."

He returns the sarcasm, because that's probably the only way to even remotely salvage this situation.

[touchmydragon]

"Perhaps."

Genji stepped up closer. He was on his guard but he wasn't expecting any violence to explode, mostly due to the rules in place around here. Not that he had confidence in them but he had confidence in the fact that his opposite was smart enough to not cause trouble when it wasn't needed.

"Or perhaps there is something more."

Yeah, he does look down at the outline.

"After all, I am not sure he was open enough with his identity to spread it to those who are known criminals." He was speaking about Jack, of course.