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Since his return, there were times when Reyes wished he could’ve said he was tortured. That his reasoning for his actions was as simple as “it wasn’t really him.” And when Cole asked why Reyes didn’t go looking for anyone, didn’t go looking for him, when he survived the explosion of Swiss HQ, he felt ashamed. He was too distressed, too embarrassed, even, to admit that it was simply because he was angry. Because he wanted revenge. Worse still, he knew now he was angry at the wrong people. For the wrong people. Frustrated at everyone but himself.It was often nowadays that he recalled, mostly to himself but if he was high enough on pain medicine occasionally Dr. Ziegler, about the time he spent with Talon. And about the time he spent as Reaper. The times where he truly believed Gabriel Reyes was dead.He was sorry to admit that he justified the suffering he’d caused using his own pain. That in a way it felt right that others should hurt as he did. He thought that everything he’d been through, everything he’d endured at the hands of the military, then Overwatch, then Moira, meant he was somehow righteous. That his agony meant he was fit to be some kind of authority over life and death. He felt a sense of pride, of satisfaction, at his actions for a long time.“We forgive you, Gabriel.” Angela had said to him once during his inane ramblings.
“We may not understand but we’re willing to let go of that past.”Reyes had brushed her off with a scoff and a muttered, “What does that fix?”She only smiled, a sadness coloured her face despite it as she shook her head at him, before she returned to her work. Stoic and focused.Reyes remembered the first time he woke after his “accident” as Moira had taken to calling it. He remembered having a conversation with the receptionist that morning about her time off. She said she paid a visit to her grandmother. He remembered exchanging a polite nod with the cashier at the cafeteria despite how abso-fucking-lutely exhausted he was. He had told him to have a good day. He had smiled at Gabriel. He remembered taking two coffees up to Jacks office, one black, one with a bit of milk and cream.He remembered their conversation. He remembered it devolving into senseless arguing, like they often did. It was only now he realized he couldn’t recall what they were arguing about on that day. Something about Ana and Gérard dying. Something about Cole leaving. He only remembered being furious. It had become a pattern since the Venice Incident. It all seemed so stupid now, all these years later. So pointless.He remembered knowing that Jack didn’t die. He remembered thinking that Gabriel hadn’t lived.Akande, Moira's new employer, seemed to think that suffering bred strength. And this made Reaper the strongest of Talon, a group that Reyes ended up joining roughly a year after his “accident.”
First an experiment of the U.S. Military, then a personal pet project for Moira? His body had been so twisted, so deformed. Every step he took was perfect agony. It made him better, Moira told him. (“Think of it as fuel beneath the flames of your vengeance.”) And not only was it what Akande always said, it was his mission. And Reaper could serve that mission well. That, and the thing that he was certain had brought him back to Akande. (“Are you protecting society from me? Or are you protecting those criminals from my justice.”)Although, in recent months, Reyes had begun to question whether Akande truly did believe what he had said to Reyes in their first meeting, when Reyes was Blackwatch Commander and he was just another criminal. Reyes wondered if he had simply seen Reyes own lack of faith, his disillusionment to manipulate him. Used his dissatisfaction with the U.N. to control him, turn Reyes into his weapon. (“You’ll find your place, even if it is at Akande’s feet.”)Moira had informed him shortly after his recovery that she had initially believed him dead, just as everyone else had. She apparently only recovered his body because she “put a lot of work into it.” The thought of being mutilated further, even after his death sickened him.
When she discovered that his S.E.P. enhancements mixed with whatever cocktail she gave him in Blackwatch made him functionally immortal by some kind of miracle (or curse, if you asked Reyes), she got to work enhancing him. Making him even better.She once even called him her masterpiece.(“Don’t die on me, now. You’re my finest experiment.”) He didn’t remember much of the explosion of the Swiss Headquarters.Just Jack.Then agonizing fury.—————————He remembered being angry with her for a long time. He was angry at Cole and Genji too. He was angry that they’d been forced to stop. He was angry that Antonio Bartalotti’s death was their first and last real service to the world. Worse than that, Genji moved up to Overwatch and Cole left. He remembered Coles reckless insubordination. He remembered Genji’s apathy. It enraged him.It took much convincing from both Moira and Akande for him to see that being angry at them solved nothing. That while he may hate Moira, despise Talon,
it wasn’t a productive use of his anger. He needed to use his pain and his anger for something, for Akande. He needed to be angry at Interpol, at the U.N., at Overwatch. He gave decades of his life to the LAPD, to the military then to Overwatch. He had worked with all of them, and they had solved nothing.And that was what he should be angry about. That was what Akande was angry about. And above all, Akande knew what to do about it. He knew how to direct and use his anger. He knew how to lead them into a better world. He needed to be angry for himself, for the people he lost, but most importantly for Akande. They both wanted the same thing, it only made sense. They both wanted a better world. And wasn’t that what him and Jack twisted their bodies for? Wasn’t that why they started Overwatch?Akande promised, Akande knew what Talon could accomplish. He knew they could accomplish what the U.N., what Overwatch and what Blackwatch never could. He wasn’t bound to any higher power like Jack had been. They weren't forced to work in the shadows.They just killed those who needed killing, and whoever got in their way.And killing was something Reaper could do. It's something he had been doing for the last forty years. And to think it could finally mean something? To think that Akande could really make a better world? It was exhilarating. Euphoric, even. It was relief. Reaper imagined the world him and Jack had dreamed of when they signed up for the S.E.P. in the first place.And it was beautiful.—————————Reaper remembered the first time he woke up."How are you feeling, Gabriel?" The voice was smooth and monotone. It pierced through the dreadful fog he had since never stopped knowing."Awful." The reply came short and blunt. And he realized how much it hurt to speak. He felt as though there was something dreadful ripping out his vocal cords, creating this pained gravel when he spoke."Good," the smile in her voice was evident, "we have work to do."