Reaper found very few pleasures in his new life after death. Coffee was one of those few pleasures. It was one of the few things that made living with the other 21 enhanced beings almost tolerable. That was why Reaper alone was the one who rose at the crack of dawn, moving throughout the Overwatch House like a shadow. He would have his coffee before running into any of his housemates or he would simply have to kill them, and 76 had made it very clear that that sort of thing was heavily frowned upon.

Reaper swooped into the kitchen silently, his dark coat billowing behind him as he searched through one of the many, many cabinets. When he found what he was looking for, a small can of dark, beautiful coffee, he turned for the pot.

Standing in his path was a short, thin, grinning woman with freckles and a mess of spiky brown hair. She wasn't fully dressed for combat like Reaper, instead opting for dark blue pajamas with tiny Union Jacks plastered all over.

"Morning, Gabe!" said Tracer brightly. Reaper instinctively reached for his shotguns before remembering that he was on strike two, and any more friendly fire would earn him probation.

So, instead of murdering Tracer, Reaper decided to side-step her and make his way for the coffee pot.

"Ah, one of those days, eh?" asked Tracer, undisturbed.

"Every day is one of those days," growled Reaper. He added the beans to a filter, then slipped that into the coffee maker. Now, all that was left for him to do was wait. And, since Tracer gave no indication that she would be leaving, Reaper was stuck with her. "Why are you awake? You don't normally wake up until noon."

"Yeah, but Pops started to get on my case about staying in too late," said Tracer, jumping onto the counter and digging through the cabinets. "Figured I'd try getting started a bit early."

"So you can do things like stand on his counter?"

"Oh. Right." Tracer jumped down, then headed for the fridge. "Hey, what's on the schedule for today?"

"Your monkey friend is doing a gear inspection." Reaper had to try really hard not to pull out his gun and shoot Tracer in the face. He hated small talk. "Then, a few basic missions."

"Did ya catch who was on my team?"

"Song and Zhou. Lijiang Tower," said Reaper. He grabbed the freshly brewed coffee and produced two mugs from the depths of his coat. "How do you take your coffee?" Tracer blinked twice, tilting her head in confusion.

"Eh? Did the big, bad Reaper just offer lil ol' me a cuppa?" Tracer was shocked, but learned long ago not to look a gift horse in the mouth. "Er… Cream and two sugars."

"Of course you do," snarled Reaper. He filled his cup, then Tracer's. Then, he reached into his coat and withdrew a carton of cream and a jar of sugar cubes, of which he added the appropriate amount to Tracer's coffee.

"Where do you get that stuff from?"

"Shut up and drink, Oxton."

"Fair 'nuff. Cheers, mate." Tracer sipped her coffee, standing across from a man who should have been her mortal enemy. It was strange, but nice. Even Reaper had to admit that Tracer wasn't so bad if she wasn't talking. A calm, peaceful silence descended upon the room, which remained unbroken until a robe-clad, slipper-wearing medic happily bounced into the room.

"Guten morgen, my friends," said Mercy. "How are you today?"

"Morning, Angela, always good to see you in the morning," said Tracer. "Hey, get a load of this; Gabe just fixed me a coffee!"

"Yes, and I suppose next you want me to believe that Jamison cleaned his room," scoffed Mercy. Reaper growled before sipping from his mug, savoring the dark bitterness of the drink. It reminded him of himself.

"Only to shut her up," Reaper promised. "It will not happen again."

"Incredible. We must find the source of this new goodwill." Mercy gave Reaper a warm smile, hoping that some of her good-nature would permeate his cloak of rage. "Now, if you do not mind, I need to get into that cabinet. I need the skillet for eggs."

Reaper stiffened slightly, but stepped out of the way. He felt something right then that he had long since forgotten. He was actually… happy about something.

"Aw, yeah! You're the best cook I've ever seen!" said Tracer excitedly. Mercy smiled, then went about grabbing the things she needed.

"I just do my best with what I have. I better get started before Reinhardt and Roadhog wake up. Between those two, it's a wonder there's ever anything to eat at all!"

"Want some help?" offered Tracer.

"If you could crack some eggs and beat them, that would be wunderbar. Oh, and Gabriel, please head to the basement and grab the bacon from the storage freezer."

"Fine." Reaper looked down, searching the floor for an entrance. There was a small crack in the wood near the fridge, which was all he needed. Reaper crossed his arms into an X over his chest and began to glow dark, deep purple. After a short second, he vanished through the tiny gap.

"He's being quite chipper today," noted Tracer. "Well, compared to normal."

"How strange. I welcome it, though," said Mercy. She grabbed flour and sugar from the cabinets, then a bowl to mix them in. "Hm… What say you, Lena? Pancakes or waffles?"

"Don't make much difference to be. They're basically the same, the way I look at things."

"Maybe Gabriel can decide…"

As if summoned by his very name, Reaper reemerged from the floor, clutching a package of bacon. He set it down on the counter and returned to his coffee.

"So, Gabriel, the decision falls to you," said Mercy. "Would you prefer pancakes or waffles?"

"I am a harbinger of death. A symbol of rage and vengeance," snarled Reaper. "I bring destruction with me wherever I may go. The few survivors I leave tell legends of my power, and fear to speak my name in more than a hushed whisper. Yet you ask me about breakfast."

"Ja, but even harbingers of death need breakfast."

Reaper opened his mouth, then closed it when he realized he couldn't really argue with that logic.

"Waffles," he said. Then, after a moment of thought, he added, "With chocolate chips." Mercy chuckled, then wagged her finger in disapproval.

"That's no way to get something you want."

Reaper glared from behind his mask, trying to decide which would be more satisfying: chocolate chips or murdering Mercy.

"Chocolate chips... Please."

"For you, Gabriel, anything."

"Pass the marmalade!" shouted Junkrat, his voice echoing throughout the massive dining hall. Roadhog silently passed the jar to his friend, who then slathered his entire plate with the orange jelly. Shaking his head in disgust, Roadhog lifted his entire plate (which was roughly the size of a truck tire) and sloppily gobbled his breakfast.

Across from them sat Pharah, who quietly ate her oatmeal whilst awkwardly chatting with her mother. Further down was Mei, Hana and Lucio who cheerfully discussed last night's mission. Then there was Zarya and Reinhardt, who were engaged in some sort of contest to see who could consume the most biscuits (Zarya was winning).

Finally, near the head of the table, sat Tracer, a very tired Mercy, and Reaper. While Mercy and Tracer chatted the morning away, Reaper silently picked his way through breakfast.

"Hey, anyone see Pops?" asked Tracer. "He's not on a mission, is he?"

"No, I don't believe he is," said Mercy. "He is probably just getting some rest. You know how hard he works to keep everything running smooth. If anyone deserves to sleep in, it's Jack."

"Yea, I know. Still, wish he was around more," said Tracer. She stabbed at her eggs. "There's a lot to learn from him." She turned to the left and grinned. "Oh, here he comes now. Pops! Over here, we saved ya a seat!"

Reaper growled quietly, watching the very bane of his existence as he swiftly crossed the hall. As the eldest and most respected of them all, he was greeted by all who he passed, even those who had tried to kill him in the past. Soon enough, Jack made it to the seat Tracer promised him and sat down.

"Morning, Lena, Angela," said 76. "Reyes." He was the second most dressed person in the hall, donning his signature "76" jacket and almost all of his combat gear (save for his visor and gun).

"We have a mission together," said Reaper angrily.

"I'm aware. Lena, would you mind passing the bacon? I'm starving."

"Sure thing, Pops." Tracer happily passed the plate, which 76 immediately began to pull from to build his own meal.

"Ey, Gramps!" Lucio stood up from the other end of the table. "Eggs are over here if you want em!"

"Please and thanks." 76 didn't need to shout. His gravelly voice carried throughout the room even if he whispered.

"I got you!" Lucio grabbed the platter of eggs, then his Sonic Amplifier. He tossed the plate up and carefully fired off a shockwave, launching the plate across the room. 76 cracked his knuckles, then leapt into the air, catching the plate without a single morsel of egg hitting the floor.

"Thanks," he called, before digging in. Lucio laughed.

"See, D? I told you he could catch it!"

Reaper stabbed at his breakfast violently.

"Showoff," he snarled. "You always did have a thing for flair."

"Only if that flair works. After all this time, you should know that I value function over form," said 76. "And, if I recall correctly, you were always the dramatic one of the team."

"Oh? And how do you figure?"

76 stood up, spread his arms wide, and began spinning.

"Death walks among you! Die! Die! Die!"

"I… I don't sound like that," said Reaper unconvincingly, barely heard over the tumultuous laughter that echoed through the hall. 76 chuckled, then fell back into his seat.

"Yeah, you do. Anyway, we're headed to Volskaya, aren't we?" asked 76.

"Omnic trouble. As usual. Fifty bots took over the plant. We scrap them." Reaper pushed his empty plate forward, then picked up what remained of his coffee. "Why is it that I'm the only one here he seems to remember the schedules?"

"I think a better question might be 'how do ya eat with that mask on'?" said Tracer, sipping her orange juice.

"Shut up, Oxton."

"We all have things on our minds, Gabriel," said 76. "Some of us are just more narrow-minded than others. All you worry about is the mission, coffee, and killing me."

"Untrue. I also think about how much I despise Ziegler for turning me into… this." Mercy rolled her eyes.

"Honestly, you cannot still be going on about the nanite thing!" exclaimed Mercy. "How many times do I have to apologize? Just for the record, Gabriel, I am very sorry I saved your life! I'll never do it again!"

Reaper looked down at his coffee, then back up to Mercy. He took a sip of his drink.

"Apology accepted."