Amélie: A la vie, a la mort. (Life, Has Died) Part One
Gérard flashed a bright smile as he walked through Watchpoint: Gibraltar, his golden skin glistening with sweat from the heat, heading towards Torbjörn's workshop. Gérard, Reinhardt, and Ana recently finished tracking down a Talon hitman in Dorado that had dragged him into an empty alleyway and attempted to choke him to death while he was on his way to rendezvous with his fire team, and convinced him to tell them where the other operatives were hiding out (however, the said hitman eventually led them right into a fucking trap). Thrown into an extremely loud gun/hammer/sniper rifle fight with about 25 Talon operatives, he had jammed his beloved sniper rifle while reloading in a hurry, getting shot at by some snot-nosed kid who had just learned how to shoot a gun, and he put the bullet in some important place on the rifle and not in the clip, almost blowing his own face off with his next shot. Reinhardt had to charge the kid into a wall just to save his ass.
Sniper in hand, Gérard nudged the workshop door open to find Amélie and Torbjörn looking over some blueprints-possibly for the miniature man's prototype, a sniper rifle that can also change into an automatic. Brilliant, that man is. Gérard cleared his throat, Amélie was the first to turn around, startled. He smiled and so did she and without warning ran into her husband's arms. Gérard couldn't help but drop his gun to hug her back, she was always so worried about her husband, knowing how he's in charge of the Talon missions and how Talon is dead-set on wanting him dead. Whenever he comes back from a mission in one piece, she feels relieved. "You're back," Amélie sighed, her arms still wrapped around the Overwatch sniper's neck. Gérard lifted his wife off her feet, and spun her, laughing.
"Yes, I'm back."
Amélie blushed as her husband touched their noses together, their faces drew closer before a loud cough interrupted them. The couple turned to find Torbjörn with his arms crossed, one foot tapping the concrete below him. "Sorry Torb." Gérard laughed and picked up his rifle and brought it to Torbjörn with a look that let him know "I fucked it up again.", Amélie stepped back and watched intently as the Swedish blacksmith looked over her husband's weapon. The Ironclad man sighed in annoyance, glaring up at his friend while he stood beside him. "Du kan inte göra något rätt, kan du?" Although the French man did not know exactly what his Swedish friend was saying, he knew it was an insult and beamed proudly. Torbjörn rolled his eyes in response and turned his attention to the jammed rifle that almost killed his idiot teammate. Within 5 minutes the stubborn bullet was plucked out and Gérard's rifle was as good as new, and the builder ushered the couple out the door to work on his prototype before he jammed another gun. "Love you too Torb!" Gérard called out while he was kicked out of the workshop and onto the Watchpoint's walkway.
Amélie looked at her husband and giggled, he never failed to annoy the smaller man. "Shall we go to bed?" She asked, taking his rough hand in her delicate one. Gérard kissed his wife's forehead and ruffled her jet black hair, "You go on ahead, mon chéri, I have to fill Jack and Reyes in on the mission. I'll be in soon." Amélie nodded and kissed him on the cheek before heading towards their mini-apartment.
The sun seems to beam brighter on our side of the world, Amélie thought as she down the hill to the tiny apartment she and her husband were stationed in since they moved to Gibraltar. The teal waves crashed against the lighthouse floating in the middle of the ocean, just a few miles from the base-Amélie and Gérard would have picnics in the small field of grass overlooking the sunset and just close their eyes, listening to the water and seagulls, the sun hot against their skin, and she would feel so alive with him. Lost in her memories, Amélie bumped shoulders with a staff member and knocked her papers to the ground.
"Oh mon Dieu! I'm so sorry, I'm so clumsy!" The taller French woman scrambled to help the young woman with her things, apologizing profusely as the intern laughed nervously, telling her it was completely fine.
"It's okay, really! I lost count on how many times I've dropped these same papers since they were given to me," The young raven-haired woman smiled. Amélie tucked her hair behind her ear before handing the rearranged documents back to the woman, and gave an apologetic smile, turning to continue her journey home.
"...Amélie Lacroix, right?"
The slender woman turned back to the young woman who called her full name, obviously she knows who she is. But why? She's nothing but the wife of an Overwatch agent, nothing more, nothing less. "Yes?" Her delicate voice barely echoed in the enormous base. She's heard from Jack that the acoustics in the middle of the Watchpoint are amazing, he recommended coming to hear him play his guitar to hear for herself. The young intern bowed and Amélie stifled a chuckle, how formal of her.
"I'm Vanessa Kim, and I was instructed by Mr. Morrison to tell you that he'd like to see you in the meeting hall." Amélie stiffened visibly and Vanessa noticed. She elaborated, "Said it was important and everyone else is also to report there. I'll walk you there if you'd like?" The young Korean woman tilted her head and gave a sweet smile, and her smile was so reassuring, when she smiled it made Amélie feel like there was nothing to worry about.
Amélie smiled back, "Sure."
As the two women walked towards the mess hall, the sun began to slowly set. The two talked about how Vanessa transferred from the base in Seoul, South Korea to Gibraltar and how different it was from Asia. Amélie told Vanessa of her travels across the world as her husband carried out his tasks as a Talon agent. "Isn't that dangerous...?" Vanessa's gaze was anxious as Amélie chose her words wisely. After all, she was just an intern, she couldn't disclose much information because her husband didn't tell her much to begin with. She sighed as the thought crossed her mind, Oh how I wish he'd truly talk to me, she thought.
Amélie looked at Vanessa, eyes searching for sincerity before she spoke, "It's not that dangerous." She lied. "He's careful, as long as he always comes back from his priorities, I'm okay with what he does." She lied again. A forced smile graced her soft features and Vanessa gave a hesitant smile. "The way I see it," Amélie started, "I'd rather my husband contribute to helping others, rather than being one of the people living through this Crisis, with no help." The young intern held the door open as they finally arrived at the meeting hall. Amélie walked through first, Vanessa trailing behind her.
As she finally stepped through to the Overwatch-stamped round table in the white-illuminated room, there was no sound, no meeting, no people. Maybe everyone is late? She thought as she walked into the center of the room. The room was so pristine and white it always seemed brand-new, like everything in the room was shipped in from the cleanest place possible. Amélie had never been in this room, as she was not a true member of Overwatch (unlike her husband), and she had no need to listen in to the team's meetings-it almost felt criminal to step on such a clean floor. Amélie was broken out of her stupor when she heard the short heels of Intern Kim behind her. The French woman's brow furrowed as she surveyed the room.
No one was there.
No one but her...and Vaness- "Hello, Amélie."
A deep, dark voice came from the pitch black darkness behind her. Only the giant Overwatch symbol printed in the center of the floor was lit, no other light in the room. The soft hum of the lights only confirmed the fact that there was truly no meeting. Of course there wasn't, if there were one she would have heard Reinhardt's deep voice booming a few steps back. Amélie cursed her naivety, Gérard had warned her once about her easy trust. She sucked in a breath as Vanessa's heels drew closer, then a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around.
Whoever the voice belonged to, she could not see him. Or her? Or it...
"Who are you?" Amélie tried to steady her voice, she had to be strong. She felt foolish, staring into the abyss yet speaking directly to it.
The mysterious entity ignored her question, "What do you fear the most?"
Amélie hesitated. "If you lie...I will know. So choose your next words wisely." It warned. The subtle threat made the blood coursing through her veins run cold, and she forced the bile in her throat back down.
"When I was a girl...I had a fear of s-spiders." Amélie stuttered.
A dark, sadistic chuckle. "Spiders. How childish." At that same moment, the terrifying feeling of spindly legs, and sharp incisors crept up the back of her neck, and Amélie let out a shrill scream and she tried to shake the tarantula skittering over her back and body off.
"GET IT OFF!" She screamed, repeating it, even looking towards Vanessa for help (and received a devious laugh in return), yet her torture only endured for forever, it seemed.
Deciding to finally take matters into her own hands, Amélie grabbed and grabbed, becoming more and more frantic as Vanessa, Vanessa who she thought was a decent woman, and this thing/person/God-knows-what began to laugh in unison at her misfortune. Just when she thought she could not take any more, and just wanted it to stop, it did.
The spider was not there. It never was.
Amélie's perfectly coiffed hair was in disarray, everywhere but in place, and she dropped to her knees as her heart felt like it was beating out of her chest. "You see, Mrs. Lacroix," The voice started, "Your fears can come, and they can go. Fear, will always be there. The only thing you can do is fight it-cower and you will be overcome by it. Conquer your fears, and they will obey."
A sudden sharp feeling pierced the back of Amélie's neck, and her lids felt as if cinder blocks weighed them down. She placed her hand over the back of her neck, just as searing pain flashed through her and she let out a blood-chilling wail, crumbling to the floor. Her skin felt so cold, the pain was intense enough to render her speechless, all she knew was pain. Before she fell unconscious, she heard the voice one last time, "Gather her, take her to the base. I'll be there. Awaiting your return."
The French woman's head hit the ground with a hard thud, and Vanessa Kim bent to scoop her into her arms. The small Korean woman was stronger than she appeared to be. "I will be there in 12 hours. Then we proceed as discussed," Vanessa informed.
"Good." The voice replied.
Elle sera de retour, mais elle ne sera vraiment?
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Hello and thank you for reading the first chapter of How It Began, Widowmaker/Amélie's story arc, and I hope you enjoyed it! This collection of short and multi-chapter stories will be filling the gaps that Blizzard left in Overwatch's lore, and I will be taking it upon myself to use both canon and non-canon elements from the animated shorts and comics to create the rest of the universe and flesh out the heroes that you know and love. I will be choosing a random hero each week to re-write their history and keep as much dry humor and personality in the characters while also adding human experiences and emotions, sometimes dark elements will also be present. Although Overwatch is Rated T, I will be writing vulgar language and graphic violence into my story, and will be rated M, so if you're a child don't tell your Mom.
LANGUAGE GUIDE
"Du kan inte göra något rätt, kan du?"
"You can't do anything right, can you?"
"...Mon chéri."
"My dear."
"Oh mon Dieu!"
"Oh my God!"
"Elle sera de retour, mais elle ne sera vraiment?"
"She will return, but will she really?"