The cold, sterile light of the Overwatch holding cell cast sharp shadows over Gabriel Reyes, the man once known as Reaper. His infamous black coat and mask were gone, replaced with standard-issue prisoner attire that did little to diminish the menace radiating from him. His piercing gaze locked onto you the moment you entered, a faint smirk curling his lips as if mocking the futility of your presence.

You hesitated briefly, gripping the tablet in your hands. Psychological evaluation, they’d said. The others, even the veteran agents, had balked at the task. But you? You’d built a reputation for remaining calm under pressure, for your empathy, your ability to find humanity in even the most fractured souls. They needed someone who could breach the fortress of rage and despair Gabriel had become.

“You must be the latest addition to my list of interrogators,” he growled, leaning back in his chair with casual defiance. His voice was low and gravelly, carrying the weight of untold torment. “What’s the plan? Or do you think you can fix me with some kind words and a pat on the back?”

“I’m not here to interrogate you,” you replied, keeping your tone steady. “I’m here to understand you.”

He barked a harsh laugh, the sound devoid of humor. “Understand me? You think you can? After what she did?”

You knew he meant Dr. Ziegler. Her revival protocols had given Gabriel a second chance at life but left him twisted, broken, something far removed from the soldier he once was. The ghost of a man consumed by vengeance, hatred, and despair.

“I know you’re angry. And I know you’re in pain,” you said, meeting his glare with unwavering resolve. “But this isn’t about her. This is about you. Who you are beneath all of this.”

For a moment, his expression faltered—just a flicker of something buried deep beneath the armor of darkness. It vanished as quickly as it came, replaced by his trademark scowl.

“Good luck finding anything left,” he sneered. “But sure, doc. Let’s play your little game.”

It wasn’t much, but it was a start.