Death Comes (Reaper X Reader)

Part 1: The Mask

Your nails tap nervously on the dark mahogany table that you are bound to by silver, rusted handcuffs. The room is small, with the dull scent of dust filling the uninhabited spaces, like a void that reeks of loneliness and despair; but you are in it. A dilapidated shackle hangs from the wall, snapped midway as if there had been a commotion in the distant past. You hear a stirring behind the semi-broken mirror and come to your senses. It sounds like a disagreement, with many unintelligible groans and grunts, suggesting fatigue and stress.

You do not remember how you found yourself in this desolate room. You have been serving the world for years in an organization which goes by the name of Overwatch. The things that you have seen and done have been monumental and well recognised, but somewhat controversial. The 'Omnic Crisis' as it was called had caused uproar and cries for help from humans and Omnics alike. You were a recon soldier, assigned to a station in China, overrun by corrupt Omnics plotting to destroy their creators. Suffering many casualties on the way, respite was found when the travesty of the war had ended. The humans were victorious and restored peace on Earth. From there on out, life, for you, had been perfect with the remaining team of Overwatch. A few had strayed, but there were no more issues at hand that directly affected you.

As you are listening to the commotion outside of the room, you notice the door to your left is slowly creaking open. Your senses are highly alert now, as the conversation outside ceases and silence is once again restored within the room. A tall, sturdy figure drifts into the room with a single motion, with such opulent majesty. You gaze at the dark, robed figure, as it halts before the opposite end of the table.

A white skull is looking in your direction, a black hood covering the top of it's head. The hood belongs to a robe that the figure is wearing, draped over broad shoulders and cascading down to frame some strong, thick thighs. As you are observing this entity, you conclude that the skull on their face is a mask, attached to metal plates holding the features together. He notices you observing his appearance, and silently laughs, causing a chill to run down your spine.

"First of all," the figure begins to speak in a slightly mocking and aggressive tone, "you don't stare at me like that..." he pauses for a few seconds, "unless you want to touch. But I guess I've got you tied up." He circles you, the sound of metal boots hitting the floor break the silence as he takes consecutive steps and watches your every move. A hand is placed violently on your right shoulder, causing you to slightly flinch. You notice that his heavy gauntlet is laden with piercing nails protruding from his fingers, which makes your stomach knot at the thought of them coming closer to your skin.

"You may have heard of me." he announces in a monotone voice. It is true, although you do not know for certain that it is the Talon member that is known as 'Reaper'. Not many people know much about this man, only that he worked for Overwatch in the past.

"You-you're Reaper..." you stutter, as his face approaches your left shoulder and turns towards you. He nods, and puts his mask against your forehead. You are met with red glowing eyes that seem to be smoking from the sockets of the skull, which seem to be staring into your memories, your insecurities and your future.

"Correct. I'm glad you recognise me," he removes his head from your proximity and walks towards a wall to face it, "I wish I did..." He looks back at you for a moment, and then returns to his self-reflection on the other side of the room.

"You're just what I need. You're perfect. I've been watching you, I like what I see. Your skills...and your...your..." he pauses, as he turns towards you again. He is stuck in thought, looking at your appearance up and down. He nods at you slightly, as he takes three steps in your direction.

"My what, Reaper?" you ask with an outburst of nerves. This is met by a slight dark snicker from him, as if he expects you to know.

Suddenly, he storms over to your side and forces his hand onto your neck. His nails are close to your skin, as you feel the cold steel grip tighter and tighter. Your fluttering eyes are looking into his, you notice that his glowing eyes are burning a more intense red and smoking more than before.

"You don't know what I'm capable of. I could snap your neck. I could crush your head. I could. I could but I will not. I could make you join us. I could," he stops for a moment, "oh, I could. Trust me."

The cold skull is now resting upon your face that has turned a ghastly white from fear. His nails are digging into your neck as he places his other hand on your chest over your fast beating heart.

"Your soul is perfect." he proclaims, slowly sliding his skull-laden face down to your neck. You can feel his breath coming from behind the mask. It is deathly cold. You shudder with discomfort as he begins to aggressively bury his face into your neck. His mask, it seems, is coming apart at the jaw. The faint sound of maniacal laughter are emanating from the face behind the mask.