5314/Unearth The Dead

Unearth The Dead
Date of Scene:	15 June 2017
Location:	Spring
Synopsis:	Sombra comes to dig up El Blanco. I mean, Reaper.
Cast of Characters:	Reaper, Sombra

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Reaper has posed:
It's a non-descript villa out in a verdant green section of the plains, with white staccato walls and brighly blooming flowers. But the town? The town is considered cursed, after the events of a few days ago - most of the residents having moved their belongings elsewhere, looking for better worlds to make their rural living. All that's left here are empty houses with their first layers of dirt-

And a cross near the gateway. Charms dangle from the wood, protections against evil. Intertwined within the dancing arms of dust is the occasional wisp of black smoke - something horribly familiar to anyone who was here only a short few days ago. The coordinates? They lead to that cross, with the blessings and protections against evil scrawled upon it. Apparently, Gabe got tired of waiting to 'leak' out..

Sombra has posed:
    Bring clothes and a shovel. That alone is enough to make Sombra curious. So pardon her for being just a few minutes delayed as she quickly looks up incidents on what happened in the particular area Reaper asked her to go to.

    It's not just a shovel that she brings however as the earth shakes with every step of a large metal behemoth. Mostly an exoskeleton meant for one person to ride in, but with Sombra's expertise she can still control it. Maybe Reaper can feel the earth shake as it approaches. And he should certainly be able to recognise Sombra's voice as it can be heard from above as the hacker crouches down and inspects the cross.

    "Huh, so that's what they think you are, huh? Espíritu maligno?" There's amusement in her voice. "You should see the wards up here, Gabe... one moment, I gotta take a photo of this!" There's the sound of a blitz going off, though fortunately he can hear something big and metallic moving afterwards, not to mention realise that his associate is working on getting him dug out. "So what happened exactly...?" she inquires further, obviously curious.

Reaper has posed:
Gabe's voice crackles over the comms - the flat, nontonal sound of thought-to-text-to-voice magical bullshittery that the multiverse had added to Talon's repetoire of communication methods - "A personal hunt gone wrong. It doesn't matter; Death is only delayed, but never stopped." He almost sounds more like 'himself' from the old vids, without the deep growl and reverberation. As the machine digs deeper, the coils of black smoke become more prominent - until at last the earth shifts, a single white boot kicking out with a growl.

And Reaper begins to rise from the grave once more. In a white mariachi outfit, complete with calavera mariachi skull mask. White with gold undertrim. AND A FRICKING CRUMPLED SOMBRERO. Shoulders heave, breath hissing with crackling sounds through the mask's teeth as the figure turns gaze upwards.
"My clothes." He states, holding out a hand from the grave.

Sombra has posed:
    A personal hunt... related to the Overwatch then, perhaps? Sombra nods where she crouches, waiting for the machine to dig deeper. It's better to not dig too quickly, even if Reaper is sturdier than most.

    As the smoke rises from the earth, Sombra does have the sense to step back. And just in time, as that white boot kicks up. The hacker arches one split eyebrow as the figure that rises from the grave looks less grim than... music themed. "Seriously, Gabe... /white/?" she asks, her tone pointed. "Here I thought your entire wardrobe was in black." Oh yes, she had to tease him about that. But fine, have some clothes. Reaching behind her, she grabs a small bag that she holds up. But she doesn't hand it over quite yet. "What exactly happened?" And she won't hand it over until he gives in to her request.

Reaper has posed:
"Talon has a contract with the Concord; This didn't involve either."

Explains the snarling figure about the costume change - then begins to literally claw his way out of the earth. That fancy new suit all rumpled and smeared with dirt, even as the black smoke coils around his ankles and shimmers from broad shoulders. Slowly standing to his full height, the mask turning towards the tilted cross that was meant to warn against 'Espíritu maligno' - and then he draws a single hand up, the shotgun forming as if cleared a holster. Even -it- looks different rounded and slimmer.

BOOM

The tattered remains clank away as Reaper hisses his annoyance, letting the gun drop back into the hole. "And my name - is Reaper." He states, before that mask turns towards Sombra atop her excavator. The gloved hand lifting once more.

"Resistance happened. It was unexpected - it won't be again."

Sombra has posed:
    Unlike Reaper, Sombra seems to not want to get her clothes dirty, as she steps back once Reaper begins digging his way out, even as the excavator helps as best as it can, perhaps being an annoyance and a help at the same time. Nothing is said as he shoots down the cross that was placed on his grave, and Sombra just watches with a semi-neutral expression. There's no hiding the glimmer in her eyes. Especially when he again reminds her about his new name.

    "Is it though? I heard the girl who put you in the dirt called you other names." Though she takes pity on him and hands him the bag so he can get his clothes and mask. But she doesn't turn away.

Reaper has posed:
The clothes are grabbed with a low, bubbling snarl, and tucked under an arm at the reminder that - well - Sombra knows all, and sees all. The dirt encrusted figure walking towards the nearest abandoned abode, pausing only long enough to look over his shoulder, the white material of his 'skull mask' glimmering quietly in the sun.

".. What do you want to keep this to yourself, -Sombra-?"

He finally asks, in recognition that she did have him at a disadvantage. FOR NOW. The sombrero tugged off and left to drift with the wind, leaving that smooth helmet encapsulating all of his features.

Sombra has posed:
    Sombra can't help but smile at that, grinning contently as Reaper seems to catch the idea here. And why, Sombra even walks to follow him, the excavator in the process of smashing up the grave. See? It's helping!

    "Hmmm? Nobody ever asked me what I wanted before..." she muses, tapping one dainty nail against her lower lip, as if deep in thought. "I'm used to taking what I want myself, but... oh well, since you're so kind to offer Gabe..." Here she looks up at him, a sly look on her face. "You could always show me your face."

Reaper has posed:
A low, rolling growl escapes Reaper's throat once more as he draws his arm up; That same shotgun once more forming in midair, like a spectre. But it's very - VERY - real. His arm crooks, holding it against his own shoulder as he threatens. Because that's what Reaper does, right? Threatens.

"Nobody."

He re-iterates. Before his other hand comes up and presses on a catch the underside of his jaw. There is a hiss, faint whirring as screws retract. Allow the camera to fall just below the sternum as that metal mask falls away. And Gabe's voice - has lost the reverberation. But it's wrong. WRONG, just as much as he is. Something caught between being and not being.

"You know what they say about curiosity and cats, chica." He states. We'll call that a smirk for old time's sake, even a bit of dark humor. And then his proper helmet is sealed over top, the black headpiece creaking as it squeezes his neck. And the white, sterile bone mask drops back down. Screws tightening with faint crunches into his forehead. And the humor's gone. Without further word, Reaper finds a nice quite place to 'change'..

Sombra has posed:
    The Talon intel agent keeps quiet, waiting for Reaper's response to her request. It's a fair one, isn't it? Keep it quiet that a teenager buried him, and she gets to see what he really looks like. There's no intel about that, nobody knows just what Reaper looks like underneath the mask. When the man reaches up to his mask though, Sombra's expression turns more serious, and she nods. "Nobody."

    Why learn great secrets if you're going to spill them to everybody, after all?

    And it stays serious as the skull mask falls away. There's only the faint arching of one eyebrow as the hacker studies him. If she's disgusted then she's hiding it extremely well. "Oh, you know me... I want to know all of the secrets. Curiousity... is what drives me." What good is she if she doesn't know things, after all? But yes, he should get changed. His current clothes must stink after being two days in the ground. Fortunately for Reaper his colleague will settle for waiting outside, keeping watch while he gets changed into his usual get up. "See, this is the problem with the multiverse. You can't just run into it. Not to mention young Elite girls seem to always be a lot of trouble," she muses. "So many of them have strange powers, magic and so on. The next time you can ask me for their files, you know."

Reaper has posed:
The 'El Blanco' suit is left hanging on the shattered remnants of the tilted cross; The metal skull blinking dully in the sun as Reaper straightens. Slowly working the crick from his neck with a faint twist of his chin before he speaks.
"Next time? .. Next time, I shoot first. Second. Third. Fourth. And then ask questions of whatever piece is still quivering." He growls. The smirking, dark humor in his voice ex-mask disappeared beneath the perpetually pissed-off persona of a perfectly bad psychopath, period.

".. Back to the center of operations."