The sun was just coming up on the horizon. As the scarlet singed dawn shed its light upon the London streets, the whole city showed its alert endeavors. At London's heart, Kings Row, was where the buildings peaked. Hundreds of skyscrapers shielded the sunlight from the streets below. Overwatch's long been abandoned Watchpoint rested upon the city's elevated outlook, still visible considering its lackluster beige hue. As you would approach the base, it displayed its years-long wear and tear due to neglect. Deep cracks sunk into the concrete and the paint that prevented the metal frames from rusting began to chip. A lone flag bearing the insignia was perched on top of the main radio tower slowly deteriorating. As for now, it would play the role of a monumental landmark more than a symbol of protection, a perfect guise for the continuation of illegal Overwatch activity.
At the base's underground level was the lab of the ape scientist, Winston, sitting in a large office whilst looming over his computer screen. The lab was almost pitch black was it not being illuminated by several monitors and red emergency lights installed onto the floor. Winston stared at the monitor for a few minutes before bellowing a huge sigh, multiple profiles of previous Overwatch agents showing on and off statuses: MISSING, ALIVE, MISSING, DECEASED, DECEASED, MISSING, ALIVE, DECEASED, MISSING, DECEASED, ALIVE, MISSING. The gorilla's heart raced furiously, the thought of Talon getting the upper hand and actually winning loomed over him like a dark cloud. He wanted to get this out of his system somehow without any collateral damage. He pushed his giant chair away from the screen for a moment and took off his glasses to rub off some of the fog, he remembered the reason he was still here at the base, and he couldn't lose hope no matter what happens. He put the glasses back on and continued his work.
Showing up in a business casual with a handbag neatly fastened over one shoulder was none other than the now famous Dr. Angela Ziegler. Fresh off a plane from her home in Switzerland, she had responded from a call from Winston telling her to meet with him in secret. There was no military from the UN to patrol the bases, so it was fairly easy to sneak in.
Winston had caught the echo of someone's high heels coming down the stairs. "Mercy, is that you?" Upon hearing the ape in his lab, Angela had to follow his voice through the large dark corridors that led up to Winston's office.
Angela was finally able to spot him by his monitors but not without painfully running into a few tables and chairs, following an extra staircase that led up to him. "Yes, it's me. You could have at least put a key under the mat. There's no need for this much secrecy."
"Hey! I just saw you've made the paper," Winston smiled as he showed Mercy a copy of the London newspaper. Angela had responded wide eyed as she snatched it from his paw, she read the bold letters word for word "Swiss Doctor and Former Overwatch Agent to receive Medal of Innovations Upon New Scientific Breakthrough"
Angela focused herself back to Winston's awkward grin of prestige. "Um-I just wanted to say congratulations, Dr. Ziegler"
Mercy just shrugged, "Figures. The media should know that I've been trying to promote my work to the masses for years, and after controversy upon controversy they, for some reason or another, decide to actually give me a standing ovation. It just doesn't feel right to me."
Winston turned in his chair, baffled by her response, "Oh, come on Mercy! For once in your life you need to swallow your pride. You have finally proved them wrong for once and now they have given you some bragging rights."
Angela thought for a while, motioning towards a nearby desk alongside the scientist. "Well, I've never been much of a people pleaser, Winston, but I think I'll take your word for it this time. If they want me to take that award with my chin up high, I won't be backing down. "
As she was talking, Angela decided to take a closer look at Winston's computer screens. On one screen was a group chat box with white words on a black background showing Winston's username along with another anonymous figure. Seemingly puzzled, Angela caught a glimpse of the word "deal" in the chat before Winston hastily closed out of it. "Um, excuse me, what was that?"
Panicked after hearing Mercy's question, Winston immediately changed the subject. "So, what was the reason you came to see me?"
"I didn't come just to see you, remember? Who were you talking to in that chatroom?"
Winston's breathing began to sound weird, "Oh, that was a… person who was helping me out with…stuff."
The scientist's response only made him even more suspicious to the Swiss doctor. "Winston, you are fully aware that if what you're doing ends up with any of us behind steel bars, you will be the one to blame for it entirely. Right?"
Winston felt riddled with guilt as he squirmed in his seat, "I know, I know. I might be scraping the bottom of the barrel here, but I have been running out of options, I've met with someone anonymous who's willing to do an inside job on Talon in exchange for information."
Angela's brain heated up, the situation was just getting worse. "And what kind of information could that be, may I ask?"
"Not sure, all they said was that we had a deal and that was it."
Angela became furious, "And that was it?!" Winston nodded. The doctor stared, completely flabbergasted, "Mein Gott, Winston, what were you thinking?"
"It doesn't matter now, what's done is done. Maybe now we actually have a chance to stop Talon and rejuvenate Overwatch."
It's always come to that resolution, to bring Overwatch back from the ashes and start anew. Even though Angela had always admired Winston's unwithered determination, by now it was just looking sad. "Maybe's and what if's, that's all that matters to you now doesn't it? Here's a maybe for you, maybe it's time to let this all go and accept the fact that it's done and over with. I don't think that Overwatch will ever be coming back."
"What other choice do we have? Talon is only going to get more powerful with each agent they kill, we are at risk of a second Omnic Crisis, Tracer's gone-" The monitors begin to flicker and short out before immediately shutting off, "Urgh! And I can't get any of my equipment in this darn lab to function without it breaking every time!" Winston slammed his arms onto the computer desk, leaving behind small craters.
Angela could only see the fit before her to the likes of a child, but she still had to treat Winston as if she was talking to an adult, "How about you take me as a for example, I don't need my background as an Overwatch agent anymore to be recognized on and off the streets. You've revolutionized science just as much as me Winston, and I believe that they could really use a bit of your genius in the field."
Winston scoffed, "Easier said than done. You really think that they'll just take one big look over at the talking gorilla and drop me off at the nearest government laboratory? "
"Don't go around saying such discouraging things like that, Okay? Remember what you just told me about swallowing my pride? What ever happened with that statement?"
Winston just put his head down in disappointment.
"Ugh, well then, since you were insisting in me doing so, I'm going to visit Tracer at her apartment to see what she's been up to. If you don't hear from me within an hour, send somebody to look for me." Angela headed back down the staircase, "I'll see you later."
"Um, Angela" Winston shouted just as Angela was finding her way out of the lab.
"Ja?"
"Do you happen to have the uh-" Before Winston could finish his sentence, Angela hinted at the contents of her purse as she held it in front of him.
Winston, looking stern for a moment, wanted to reconsider Angela's visit, thought for a while, and remembered that this all was in best intentions for her and Tracer. He sighed, "Just…go easy on her this time around. Please?"
As Winston and other heroes were making progress after the Overwatch recall, they went through plenty of run-ins with Talon as the terrorist organization continued their devious plans to reignite the tensions between humans and omnics. They were able to do some damage to each other, but not without losses and several apprehensions from the authorities. No matter how many they had lost, Tracer was still with Winston all the way in terms of getting the old Overwatch back. Her enthusiasm was what kept the morale of all of the heroes strong. And it certainly showed; the Brit could cut through Talon agents like a hot knife through butter, and from the looks of it she was setting a good example after all.
But then one day the ex-pilot's courage and determination all burnt away faster than they could ever imagine. Among these missions of covert espionage, Tracer had several encounters with one of Talon's most deadly assassins, Widowmaker. As she had come face to face with the sniper, the last mission that Tracer had been on was almost her last day on Earth, period.
Mercy heard the whole story of what happened from Winston's own point of view when he brought her in for emergency medical attention: There had been a large scale firefight in Numbani where Talon was opening fire at a peaceful gathering between humans and omnics .Tracer came in to escort civilians to a safe zone while Winston and Soldier 76 fought off the terrorists. During all the chaos, Tracer had spotted a child limping out in the open and put herself in harm's way as she wouldn't be leaving any innocents behind. But before she could reach the kid, an agent popped out of cover and shot the child right in front of her. Widowmaker happened to be up on a balcony scoping from a safe distance. Tracer's overwhelming state of shock was what gave the assassin plenty of time to draw her rifle, without a moment's notice landing a shot right into Tracer's neck. Being too occupied with cleaning up the Talon scum, Winston looked over at where Lena was located only to see her lying down in a murky red puddle.
Mercy almost fainted at the thought of being there as Tracer's last strings of life dwindled right before her eyes.
Tracer and the recall have never fully recovered after that. Agents and heroes began to question if the fight for Overwatch was worth saving and most of them had opted out. Winston, on the other hand, wouldn't be giving up anytime soon. Now, Winston has requested Lena return to see if she still has some determination within her to still be a hero. Angela, however, could only doubt if that was true; the task force that she saw as its protectors has vanished. Many rumors spread of the real cause of Overwatch's disbandment; she never wanted to believe in all of those conspiracies.
Having a specific purpose for buzzing herself into the complex's main lobby, just like she said to the door man; she was visiting a friend, nothing else. A brief, gentle knock was placed on the apartment door labeled 14, a room that was held on the top floor of the three story building. She knew the exact room but other reasons gave way to why her friend had kept this one; the abandoned base would be quite apparent from over all the other huge buildings in the already congested town.
The cheap apartment complexes in London were decent living spaces. Most had the standard ordeal: running water, air conditioning, a futon, a reclining chair, carpeting for the living area, and laminate flooring for the kitchen and bathrooms. Every member was offered a compensation policy for when they planned to retire or, in this case, Overwatch's eventual collapse. This had given them a chance to go about their post-Overwatch lives without much worry of finding another occupation, which Lena seemed to take advantage of. The financial benefits could last an agent over 50 years, if they didn't spend it extravagantly.
A long thirty seconds passed by, filling Angela with uncertainty. The closed spaces and cold atmosphere of the hallways didn't help with the feeling either. She knocked a second time, more firmly than the last and with controlled force, not long before subtle footsteps beyond the door were just caught by Angela's ear. Another pause was taken on the other side, possibly to check the peephole. After a swift yank of the chain lock, the knob began to twist vigorously before swinging the door open.
Upon seeing her friend give her a wide eyed smile, Angela had felt a sense of relief; she's not any worse, but not any better either. Since it was an early Saturday morning, Angela got the notion that Lena had been locked up in the apartment for the past day or so. She wore what consisted of rugged felt pajama bottoms and a tinted green tank top. Underneath was her chronal accelerator, the bulky chrome device encased on her chest emitting a fading blue glow through the shirt.
Both she and Angela were familiar with the fact that Lena didn't have to keep the device latching onto her at all times. As long as it was in close proximity, she wouldn't be fading away into non-existence. Whatever the case, Lena chose to keep the harness on anyways as a comforting mechanism. It was what made her unique after all, not to mention it had saved her life several times over.
Clearly Lena's signature hairstyle was the one astounding detail that, according to Angela, was what defined and represented Lena's witty and eccentric personality. For a while, it was nowhere to be seen. The luminous pointed waves of dark brown were considered by Lena to be the last remnant of that fateful day; she wanted to leave it behind, all of it. As if burning the very last bridge she had built for everyone once deemed family to her wasn't enough, the happy-go-lucky nature she once dawned and worn proudly whatever the case may have been was too cocky, too careless, too stupid. It had to disappear. So, it was gone, all of it, shaven down to what was merely peach fuzz.
Despite her apparel, she appeared ecstatic to see her old friend drop by for a visit after six months without contact. "Angie! How long has it been?" Lena blurted, sending shockwaves through Angela, giving her a jolt that no cup of morning coffee could ever give. She leapt in for a hug, pulling her into the complex, the atmosphere already making her feel claustrophobic. Angela tried not to step on the belongings that were scattered all over the floor, acknowledging the full extent that was Lena's toxic living conditions. She struggled to keep her balance, attempting not to trip over the scattered magazines, cans, bottles and clothes. Scanning the entryway, she could identify a few square inches of carpet that the trash didn't cover, wanting to have a panic attack over the whole dilemma.
Through Lena's embrace, Angela had caught a glimpse over the Brit's shoulder. The ugly scar permanently tattooed onto Lena's neck. A long white patch that streaked with violent bolts that rippled along the edges. It was all too noticeable considering it had the same diameter of a sniper bolt.
The scar was still something deep down in Angela that she had forcibly reminded herself of whenever she decided to meet Lena again, no matter how much she ignored it, pushed it down, it never went away, because she would have to look right at it whenever she saw her.
How the pattern came to a sudden halt would make the doctor wish that she didn't have so much human anatomy memorized. It was extremely haunting to put into context how the bullet entered. Putting it lightly, it had gone through the carotid artery. Just severing this vessel will result in death in less than 90 seconds. But this wasn't no sever, this was pierced by a metal bullet. Before doctors were finally able to remove the bullet and stitch Lena up, she had lost nearly half of the blood in her body. It filled Angela with guilt that she couldn't have been there when it occurred. Too much damage has been done. She had the proper technology. It all would have been less if she was around to fix it.
Every time one of the Overwatch crew brought up Lena's scar, she gave them a stink eye which screamed "Do not ever bring this up again or there will be dire consequences, capiche?" She was never proud of the scar. She didn't brag about how "cool" she looked and never even mentioned it once.
Angela wriggled out of Lena's supposed death grip, the two returned to their own personal boundaries, it felt nice to show this much intimacy after all they have been through. "Lena, I've never expected you to be this happy to see me."
"Oh, how I've missed you so! You look lovely by the way, is that a new suit?"
Angela had almost forgotten about the apparel she had, a long sleeved, yellow Faux-wrap with thin, green stripes below the waistline, "Why yes, it is. I've got some time off work and I wanted to try it out."
"Ha! Angie, you trendsetter you! Oh I just can't wait for us spend the rest of the day together."
"Now, Lena-"Angela had no intention for Lena to hear as she blinked into the kitchen, still visible at the far end of the room.
When Winston had contacted Angela to come to London for the visit, he had mentioned calling up Lena to inform her that she was coming over without getting too much into details why, sparing her from disappointment so she wouldn't barricade herself inside her room when Angela actually came.
Angela, barely hearing Lena's voice was staring at the fridges contents: top shelf was stacked with TV dinners with the shelf below stocked completely with cans of energy drinks and beer. "I went shopping just the other day, would you like anything?"
"N-No, dear, my coffee should suffice," She retorted. She sipped whatever small, lukewarm drops she held in her thermos. Obviously a blatant excuse she conjured to avoid her offer.
"Oh, alright then, I just figured you looked peckish since you weren't showing much energy, not to mention how eerily quiet you were being," Lena giggled.
Angela chuckled back, "No, to be honest with you, I'm still trying to wake up. I've been going through the past several weeks with a pattern of all-nighters in the infirmary. New cases coming in and out 24/7 can do that to you."
Lena popped the cap of a beer bottle on the fridge door. "Ah, I see, you just work too much. You have to take a break once in a while, y'know? That is why you came to see me, right?"
Angela thought to herself 'Well Ms. Oxton, I would've figured you would say that since you have been on quite the vacation.'
Waiting on a response, Lena just confirmed Angela's lack of one as a yes. "Well come on, make yourself at home! Oh, and sorry 'bout the mess by the way. I was planning on cleaning up before I got myself too preoccupied."
Finding the nearest used chair, Mercy decided to rest her legs as Lena went to grab something from the other room. Despite the landfill that was Lena's carpet, the rest of the flat gave Angela quite the welcoming treatment. Tracer didn't have a job at the moment, but that wouldn't be stopping her from shopping on impulse. A centerpiece with exotic plants was on the glass coffee table, abstract paintings in the hallway along with a few bits of Overwatch memorabilia such as propaganda posters and medals hung on the walls. A small shelf was over the TV bearing only one picture frame. She couldn't make out the image well enough from where she was sitting due to the frame's shattered glass. Angela leaned in to get a closer look. It was Tracer with Emily. They were both smiling and holding each other closely. Angela could only sigh as the picture had held memories of a better time for the ex-agent.
Lena came blinking back into the room with a new change of clothes, "Aye, I reckon we chat more at the park. I know a place at the market where you can get some wonderful fudge. Ooo! Or I can introduce you to some of my chaps down by the pub. I dunno, what do you think?"
'Now, just what kind of "chaps" is she referring to?' This was the first time Angela had heard Lena use that word outside of mentioning the Overwatch gang. Maybe this was something the doctor didn't learn yet about Lena, or that she mostly used the word "accomplice" to refer to her outside friends and that she'd never picked up on it.
With this all happening so fast, Angela had almost forgotten the reason she wanted to see Lena. "Oh, sweetheart, what you've said sounds like a wonderful time but unfortunately that'll have to be put on standby for now."
Lena turned a head, "Excuse me?"
'Oh dear' Angela thought. She never should've gotten Lena this riled up "I'm afraid I haven't been fully honest with me saying why I came to see you." After a bit of awkward silence, the Swiss doctor put the leather purse on her lap.
Seeing what Angela was reaching in her purse for, all but a very few slivers of excitement and anticipation drained and seemingly spilled through Lena's body in a cold, cloudy rush of obsidian disappointment, she knew what Angela was going to say next, she just knew. The bitterness developed in all five of Lena's senses, not wanting to feel anything from here on out. She could only stand still and listen, left waiting for Angela's follow-up response and hope that this time around it would be something different…it wasn't.
From Angela's handbag, she had pulled the ugliest pattern of stripes that was the cover of her notebook. Each stripe revealing itself to her in all of its horror for what felt like hours, just some of the worst eight colors to be put together, top to bottom, one after another, each worse than the last.
Red, orange, black, brown, tan, white, yellow…magenta.
Angela's awkward smile had transitioned to a clenched flinch. The look on Lena's face stuck, in what was to be the most pure form of contempt towards an inanimate object that she had ever seen.
She couldn't hold the tension for both of them any longer, Angela needed to justify herself, fast. "Okay, before you decide to go off on me, this won't be as long or as draining as last time, if you just stick to the path that I give you, I promise that this will be over before you know it, and then maybe we'll have a few extra hours to kill for the rest of the day. Is that alright with you?"
Still keeping the glance she gave to Angela locked in place, Lena responded with a temperate nod.
Angela had felt it mandatory to examine Lena's mental health once she was developing worsening changes in her behavior. Immediately when Lena was checked out of the medical division, Winston advised the Overwatch team that she could easily recover from the trauma, reminding them that if she could handle non-existence after being lost in space time for months on end and still keep her "peppy persona", then she could handle this.
He also suggested not putting her through any more medical evaluation, though Angela showed disdain and had deemed this very unlikely as Lena was so emotionally distraught she couldn't even remember the mission she was on prior to the incident. Angela also previously engaged in multiple encounters with Lena quietly pacing around the base mumbling to herself without any interaction with the other agents.
Then, a few days afterwards, something had snapped in Lena. She had been sitting at the executive table in the Overwatch mess hall with a handful of other agents, one of them being Fareeha Amari, more commonly known to her as "Pharah" along with her mother, Ana, and a few others. They had been discussing plans to focus on developing alternatives for Overwatch's, infrastructure and afterwards decided to take a quick break. Getting up from the table, Ana disappeared into the kitchen to boil some water for tea.
While she was gone, Fareeha was questioning her complete silence and lack of eye contact during the whole meeting. Five seconds without a response and the Egyptian began to joke around with Lena, urging the other agents to follow along. Though it may have been harsh, she had no intentions going out of her way to be insensitive to the ex-pilot, as she'd known Lena for years and had appreciated her witty sense of humor.
Receiving several bouts of drawn out laughter from everyone at the table, Fareeha had taken it too far and wanted to make a joke out of Lena's near death experience. There were probably a few other ways that she had said it, but in retrospect it went along the lines of, "Hey Tracer, wait until Zenyatta hears about this! You can finally boast to him, tell him how you touched the iris! Oh, and while you were up there, did you rub metal with Mondatta too?"
With all of this going on, everyone at the table was recovering with sore jaws and teary eyes from laughing too hard. Reinhardt was in too much of a drunken stupor to be aware of his surroundings and Torbjorn had completely fallen out of his chair. They didn't see how fast Lena had blinked across the table to tackle Fareeha to the ground, knocking the wind out of her in the process. They had witnessed the unimaginable- Lena was pummeling the former soldier against the cold metal floor with consecutive punches to the face. They knew Fareeha was much stronger built than Lena, but that couldn't dissolve the fact that Lena was extremely quick with her punches, quick enough to hardly give her time to process what was happening at all. Blow after blow, the Egyptian barely peeked at snippets of Lena's face, seeing the cold, lifeless exterior built by her confusion. For a few seconds she was a lifeless juggernaut of built up frustration fueled by kerosene adrenaline, only taking one wrong move by Pharah to light the match.
Watching in disbelief, they all pleaded for Lena to stop. After the weight of the situation had set in that Lena was not giving out anytime soon, Mccree and Reinhardt had rushed over to pry her off of Fareeha, cuts and bruises already showing up all over her face. They had managed to slow down Lena's blind fury before Ana had rushed in from the kitchen with a sleep dart. Still lying on the floor caked in blood and sweat, Fareeha had tried to explain to her mother about what happened just as Mercy was walking in.
Half an hour later Lena had come to. Angela had asked her about what exactly was going through her head when she had decided to lose control. Lena tried to recall the sudden episode, she could merely describe a few sentences before breaking down and sobbing uncontrollably.
Whenever Angela had the chance, she would evaluate Lena's mood, thoughts, and actions whenever possible. But over time, Lena was seeing a pattern of redundancy in the exercises, especially considering the slow progress that they were making. There was nothing relaxing about it either, Lena would have preferred it to feel like a day at the spa, but there wasn't anything related to that. There was no yoga, no meditation, no nothing, just being forced to explain details to Angela as she was copying down what she had just said to her verbatim.
At the end of jotting down evaluation #57, Angela persuaded her to take the next week off. She returned with her shaved head and no uniform, wearing just a grey undershirt under her chronal accelerator. Over it, a sky blue button down shirt that had been wrinkled and covered in torn patches along with a pair of skinny jeans and trainers. She had constantly reminded everyone that her name was Lena Oxton while urging them to "please just stop calling her bloody Tracer". Receiving unapproval by Mercy and most of the Overwatch crew, the conflicted Tracer wouldn't show up at any more meetings.
Then out of nowhere, Lena contacted Winston after a month on hiatus, she had a much joyful tone in her voice. She talked about how much better she is with some time alone to herself and that since leaving she has finally stopped waking up every morning in a cold sweat. With everyone upset over this news, they had decided that it was for the best.
Angela sighed, unsure of how Lena was going to handle this. "Alright then, let's begin our appointment, shall we?"
Hearing what she referred to as Angela's "doctor talk", Lena acknowledged Angela as she let out an exaggerated grunt, which was followed by an overly dramatic face plant onto the sofa cushions. With an expression of total unamusement, Angela had watched the scene in its entirety. They were already off to a great start.
She allowed a few more seconds to pass before getting settled in. "Okay, I don't know if I've asked you this but how have you been doing since we last met?" Her voice being an appropriate tone to get her attention, she looked at the seemingly undisturbed Brit with a tranquil glare to mask her worry. She didn't reply, beginning hesitant as usual.
"You've been finding any new hobbies, any new friends besides the pub, a few little adventures? I'm all ears."
"….Well" *Click* Lena's thinking process was halted for a moment to swiftly focus her attention on the sharp noise that had just hit her ear drums. The sound came from the expensive ballpoint pen Angela had kept in her left shirt pocket as she scribbled incoherent German onto the paper. She always used that pen, ever since she signed on as Tracer in her post-Overwatch years Lena has seen her use it. She was having flashbacks of her physical for the new recruits at Overwatch, that was where she had first met Angela, back then only knowing her as Mercy, by now that alias had sounded too foreign.
Lena was discovering how many simple noises could irritate her, it wasn't just the sounds, it could have been the vibrations they gave off as well. For a while Lena was making a list of the few common sounds she would hear all the time that could unexpectedly be translated to nails on a chalkboard. At top of her list: the clicking of Angela's pen and the scribbling it made on paper, along with the phone ringing, open mouthed chewing, banging on tables, the plastic heel of a shoe hitting a marble floor-
Too much time passed, it was getting awkward to be thinking for this long and she tried to come up with a realistic answer to Angela's question. Nothing. "Actually, I'd like to hear a bit outa' you first."
Angela replied while she was still concentrating on her notes, "Alright then, recently I've gotten a headline in the news regarding my innovations in nanoprobe technology in the medical field. I also came to check up on Winston this morning only to discover that he has resorted to accepting funds from shady sources to continue our cause. Oh, I'm sorry, his cause. You?"
"A headline in the news? Angie, that's marvelous!"
"You still haven't answered my question." Angela muttered, noticing how her patient was trying to change the subject.
Lena pouted, she really wasn't going to make this easy for her, "Can I tell you what went on in the news just last week?"
"Is this pertaining to your experience or are you just stalling our progress?"
"Can it be an experience if I at least witnessed it in some way?"
"Why yes, sweetheart, but try not to misdirect our attention from the exercise."
"Okay, so there was this news story about an underground Omnic gang who made themselves to look like humans y'know to blend in with the crowd and such, they get realistic human faces and clothing and walk around in public to be more socially accepted and I was finding myself very captivated since I don't usually watch the news, let alone watch any telly for that matter. Then, one day I was waiting at the bus stop to the market and this feller next to me seemed to be acting up-small guy, very old, older than Reinhardt. But for some reason or another, he was humming like a machine would and every few seconds he would cough in a very metallic way. Crazy, right?"
Rubbing her temples firmly, Angela exhaled in disappointment before slowly raising her head, "Lena, you should know that they had confirmed that story to be a hoax made up by anti-Omnic protesters to misinform the public. And I'm pretty sure from my diagnostics, that man you met at the bus stop just had a very bad case of emphysema."
Already feeling stupid, Lena cringed in embarrassment and displeasure, "…Oh, sorry 'bout that."
Aggressively scratching out the data she had originally set, Angela flipped over to a fresh page, "Listen, just pick something that happened any time since we last met and we can build it from there, I'll give you some time to think,"
And so for the next few minutes Lena thought of all the days where she wasn't so resilient to get out of bed and walk out the door. She also thought about when she went outside and it wasn't just to stockpile food or renew anything at the DVLA. Then she had it, kind of. There were a few instances where Lena would run into stray cats, but the experiences always upset her because unless you had food or were another cat, you would get a face full of claws that would guarantee a staph infection. Lena swallowed for a moment, ready to fabricate a story that would keep Angela thoroughly occupied.
"Um…I saw a stray cat this morning"
The scribbling came to a halt as Angela slowly lifted her head to focus her eyes on her once more. "Oh really, do you see stray cats often around here?"
'Yes, all the freaking time.' Lena thought to herself, "No, actually."
"Ah, very interesting! Can you get into detail?" Angela requested as she continued writing.
"Um, not really. It was just a cat."
"Okay, first, as someone who identifies as a cat person I find what you said highly appalling. Second, in order for you to better focus yourself, you have to further analyze your environment. Ask yourself, how did the cat move around? When did you first notice it or when did it first notice you?"
"I could kinda read what it was thinking. When the little fur ball came over to me I was sitting and chowing down on a Sammie, so I believe it was around lunchtime. Then, it came right up sniffing me round a bit. So, I figured, Oi, this poor little feller hadn't eaten for days."
Angela nodded, the scribbling becoming more consistent, "Good good,"
"Yeah! So I, being the generous person I am, gave it a little nibble of the chicken breast I had. And the tiny squinched up look on its face was just-"
Angela interrupted, "That's great, Lena. But I really would like it if you use your observation skills, not just tell me a story."
Lena grunted as she threw her arms around before facing Angela again, "How much detail do you need, luv? I was just getting started."
"You said that you don't see stray cats very often, right? Then this cat in particular should be mind-opening for you. You shouldn't be describing it like this is just an average day in London. Remember, don't just see, observe."
Lena sighed, she looked back up at her ceiling fan and let the motion of the blades quiet her mind, "The air was clean...the sky was blue…"
"I thought this was about the cat."
"It is about the cat, just listen."
Angela crossed her legs, "I'm listening"
"Okay," Lena continued to stare at the fan and noticed how it felt slower, each revolution more rough than the last as it seemed to struggle in keeping momentum, "As I looked into the cats eyes as it was eating the bit of meat from my fingers, there was a bit of a reflection. I mean it wasn't really my reflection it was someone else's but I couldn't really make it out."
Angela only listened, entranced yet slightly confused.
"I stared for a little longer and before I knew it the cat started…uuh…talking. Yeah, b-but not with its voice I mean like it was using its cat brain and everything, like we were connected!"
Angela head was hurting from trying to absorb Lena's nonsense, "You mean…telepathically?"
"That's the word, telepathically. And then it spoke to me in like this really high cat voice and said 'Tell me, mortal, what is the difference between a chicken sandwich and the meaning of humanity's existence?' And I was like, blimey! This ain't no cat, it's a miniature sphinx. But since it was a million years wiser than me I couldn't figure its riddle out there and then. So, the little guy just said for me to take my time and it just *poof*…disappeared."
Lena stopped hearing the scribbling of Angela's pen, she looked back over to Angela, appearing completely bewildered. "Aaand that was it. What do you think?"
Angela had paused to think of a reasonable response, she looked across the kitchen to the clock on the microwave, realizing that twenty minutes have been wasted to listen to prolonged drivel, her patience had worn dangerously thin, "Well that is an interesting response coming from someone I haven't heard from in months considering you just told me how you've spent all that time being M.I.A. to just do absolutely nothing."
Lena's breathing got frantic as she hyperventilated through her nose and her eyes skittered rapidly. Her hands jittered as she brushed her bare scalp. That was the cue for Angela to put her foot down, she had hoped to evade this outcome, but of course that was just wishful thinking, "You know, just for a moment there I thought you could have actually come around this time to follow simple instructions, but apparently that's just not realistic enough for you, is it Lena? Because not only have you wasted a reasonable amount of time from my day but you have also lost any future chance of this ending favorably for you. And for that, you've just earned yourself daily two hour evaluation sessions with me for the next four weeks, congratulations."
Lena jolted her head of the sofa with eyes wide enough to expose the bright whites that strongly contrasted her beet red skin, "Don't think I'll be falling for that again, luv!"
Angela had appeared shocked at Lena's sudden response, "I beg your pardon?"
"If you intend on acting like me mum rather than my therapist, I would consider you not pull out the guilt trip card as soon as I don't give you the answer you want to hear."
"What are you talking about? I don't want to make you feel guilty. I just want us to make progress."
"You liar! Progress with what? And what do you mean by 'us' anyhow? I never even agreed to do this with you in the first place."
"I know you haven't. You have to understand that situations are not always going to go in the direction you want them to. These are common ethics we've been taught all our lives: acceptance, flexibility, compromise."
"See, you don't understand. That's what I've been doing ever since evaluation number one, evaluation number two, three, four, seventy-whatever! And now you're lecturing me about how I'm never flexible, when that's all I've ever been!"
"You only think that because your definition of flexible is saying 'yes' to every question I give, to everything I suggest, to every promise you've made for me and you never make the slightest bit of effort to deliver on that. If you really want to be flexible you have to listen to these evaluations I give you and use the experience so you can actually learn something! I cannot stress that enough, Tracer. So when y-"
"HEY! What the hell did I say about calling me Tracer!"
"Stop it! That's another thing, stop trying to change and wash away your image. You shaved your head and you won't talk to anybody else from Overwatch but me and Winston. I don't know about you but that's never a reasonable way to go about solving our problems! You can't just hide who you are just to make yourself feel better! This isn't you! What ever happened to the real Lena Oxton I know and love?"
Deep down Lena had started developing the same feeling to when she had attacked Pharah. Having to suppress the urge to not introduce Angela to the back of her hand, she gave her the one time to make a clear explanation. Keeping a twitched finger pointed to herself, she whispered eerily through gritted teeth, the hoarseness in her voice with trying to hold back tears making the words difficult to force out. "Look at me… this is me. This is who I've always been, it's who you're hearing speak to you at this very moment. If it just so happens to rub you the wrong way, you can either zip it or kiss my arse on your way out the door o'er there. And don't you dare parade into my flat with your ugly shoes, vomit coloured suit and your foundation smeared face just to tell me I'm wrong. Or else…maybe instead of your prissy notebook session I might be looking more towards the asylum for a goddamn lobotomy."
The room felt too quiet as the void looming over the two blacked out all that was peaceful before. Angela was wondering if there was a cold draft as she was getting goose bumps. "Sweet, C-Can you please stop arguing with me and just cooperate?" She could hear herself choking up, her heart felt weak as Lena's words painfully bounced around her skull. Angela exhaled deeply so she could release the weight that the stress of the situation she pulled herself into wouldn't worsen. Not wanting to further argue, she tilted her head down, giving Lena an opportunity to ventilate.
Lena shot up and delivered her one last interjection. "Oh, I'm sorry! I would feel completely welcome to tell you about how monotone my day is if you didn't come by every time with….that! I mean this is the ONLY TIME where at least one of my friends and former colleagues can visit and every single time you show up at my door only to just make me feel like one of your stupid patients again! This is the whole reason why I stayed away for God's sakes! Why couldn't you just bring Winston to see me, huh? At least he treats me like a real person once in a while!"
As Lena could only freeze in embarrassment with noticing how much energy was put into her loss of temper. Angela had taken the chance to compose herself, "That's because you are, sweetheart. You're my stupid patient. And that's how it's going to be until we are finished. And since you're too stubborn to work with simple communication techniques, I'll just have to skip to finding out your emotional state. "
Lena wanted to quit badly, but still hoped for at least some resolve. She sat back on the sofa. If she really wanted to hang out with Angela, she would just have to accept the fact that her rants weren't going to solve anything. She rested herself back onto the futon. "Fine, get rid of the notebook then."
Angela obliged, seeing that she had to show more understanding in order to not risk being kicked out of Lena's flat. She placed the pen back in her left shirt pocket, closed the notebook and placed it on her lap. Angela cleared her throat, "Now, I would like to suggest that we-"
Lena reacted only with more resentment. "No, I mean put it away, Angie!"
Calmly, Angela then placed the notebook face down on the coffee table between the two. She leaned back into her chair to show that the notebook was out of reach.
"Urgh, NO! 'Away', away!"
Angela got scared, panicked even. She was making the gargantuan mistake of not taking Lena seriously, as the Brit really wasn't going to handle any more humiliation.
"Alright, it's fine, don't worry." Angela promptly snatched the notebook from the coffee table and stuffed it in her purse before zipping it shut, then sliding it behind her chair to avoid Lena lashing out at her for a third time.
"…better?" Angela said under her breath.
Lena's face of contempt had returned, sitting slouched over the futon, head tilting forward as if the weight of being talked down to was affecting her posture. Already bitter, Lena just shrugged her off, "Dunno, you tell me, shrink."
Lena played passive-aggressive, this was bad. At this point, Angela knew she had already messed this up completely. Psychology wasn't ever her strong suit to begin with. She was reminded of just how terrible she was at understanding a patient's brain, the most important organ in the human body, more importantly the most advanced attribute for the evolution of the human race. All of the Overwatch members had been disturbed by Lena's changes and Angela had to do her share in getting her back on the right track. For once in her life she had felt discouraged. "I'm sorry, Lena"
Lena tilted an ear, "Come again, luv?"
"I said that I'm sorry, sorry about all of this, I never meant to put you in this position in the first place. I haven't been using enough compassion to know how much you're going through right now. All I wanted to do was help you in the best way I could but after months and months of trying I can't even reach a decent threshold."
"Hey, what did I tell you about trying to make me feel guilt-"
"Lena, I'm done, okay? "
Lena was being given the sense that she'd made a mistake, as though she may have just pushed Angela too far. "Wh-What are you getting at?"
Angela was developing a lump in her throat, she felt weak with her vulnerability already too obvious for Lena to point out. "I said I'm done. I'm done with the notebook, I'm done with the examinations, the appointments, everything! You win. If you really say that you're fine without my help, I believe you." Angela sniffled as a few tears rolled down her cheeks.
Lena stood dumbstruck at Angela's proclamation, "…..I-I don't understand"
"You know what, Lena? Me neither." Angela shot up from the chair purse in hand, wiping the tears from her eyes with a single thumb as she made her way towards the door, "Let's say we both get out of this stuffy room."
Power, to the top masterminds and executives behind the terrorist group, Talon, was only defined as control. To influence those that undermined them, governments and civilizations alike. It was simple; find the weak spots in their social norms and political beliefs and let fear seep into the mix. Once hatred had festered, that's when Talon knew they would have them feeding out of the palm of their hand. But to the likes of Talon's enigmatic hacker, power's definition was a bit more subjective.
The glowing haze projected from Sombra's fingertips held only the essentials, the information of truth. To her, power had come in the ability to breeze through all of the smoke and mirrors until there was only the fragility, the naked undercoat from just a few broken firewalls that was too satisfactory to just keep for herself. Because when the last film sheet of dignity and self-worth had peeled like a scab for the greedy and selfish, Sombra could only laugh. Laugh because in the sense of dramatic irony, it was there all along. The lies, the corruption, all organic flaws that manifested from those once respected. Once respected. To counter a power that was wrongly fathomed to be inevitable. That, to Sombra, was real power.
All in the comfort of her cramped bunker, purple, holographic projections showing transcripts of confidential trade agreements were being scrolled through by the finesse of a single finger. Sombra had originally intended to use the information for cold blackmail but found herself too entertained by the white collars' supposed banter. Being so engaged in the comedic value of a simple piece text, she never bothered to be aware of her surroundings as a black mist that reeked of burnt carbon filled the air. Swinging her legs so, a spin of her swivel chair welcomed her to the shadowy figure that had invited itself in. With one brow raised, Sombra couldn't tell of the hooded man's facial expressions through the chalky white mask. Not expecting a single flinch from the hacker, Reaper pulled a bellowed growl to set his intentions as well as his dramatic tone. "The council wants you, NOW."
Having a chance to stretch before leaving with Reaper out into the dimly lit hallway, Sombra didn't feel the need to be nervous in any way possible. She'd known Talon's operations front and back, she'd seen them as no different from the corporate cronies at Dorado, just a bit more rebellious. Whatever they had to say about her wouldn't make a bit of difference. This would feel like a trip to the doctors, just in an underground facility off the coast of North America.
Going through the hallways in Talon's bases always made Sombra wonder if the organization was overcompensating for their lack of skills in architecture for trying to set a specific tone for themselves, the flickering lights and maroon schemed walls of metal set up pretty much every part of the building except for a few of the higher-up offices in Talon's ranks. Wanting to enjoy the eerie silence while standing next to the physical manifestation of death himself, Sombra was hearing Reaper actually start a conversation, which was strange considering how he was more the quiet type, "I got word from the Director about your little deviation. You've really outdone yourself this time."
Sombra was just remembering the act that Reaper was mentioning, "Oh, is that what this is about?"
"I was informed that you'd have known by now, since you seem to know everything."
"Really, do I know what you're thinking right now?" The hacker retorted.
"That's not what I meant, Sombra." Reaper allowed a few minutes to pass as they both neared the corridor into the meeting room, "Now tell me; why were you extracting our funds?"
"You know, after this, I am really looking forward to some of the tequila that I snuck in here. It was too early to have it at breakfast and now I hear it calling to me again. I have two glasses in my bunk so you're completely welcome to join me. Oh wait, that's right, you don't drink because of the whole corpse thing."
Reaper immediately stopped in the middle of the hallway, he turned to look at Sombra, inches from her face, "Listen here you, and listen well. Someday in time you are going to have to warm up to the fact that I don't like you, none of us here like you. And it's not just the pretentious attitude you wear like an opal necklace. You have time and time again risked sabotaging missions thinking we would be kept in the dark. You never listen to reason or treat any of us with the slightest amount of common decency. How exactly do you think this meeting is going to go after all the trouble you've caused us on our missions?"
"But by the looks of it, you were involved in those missions just as much as I was. You and the spider are supposed to be standing on Talon's shoulders, remember? Make them intimidating! Me? I'm just the paid tech monkey. Then again, I was able to accomplish something useful when your brawn over brains mindset doesn't always pan out. Oh, and by the way I'm curious, how are those quad routines working out for you?"
Reaper froze in place for a moment, still keeping the facial distance towards him and Sombra, "…why were you stealing our funding?"
"Ha! Since when have you become so interested in finances?"
"I had a little behind the scenes look from our comptroller. I was the only one in this facility who bothered to ask him about the strange new quota that went with my payroll. My word of advice, don't leave such a large trail of purple skulls if you intend on being more deceptive."
Sombra squinted at Reaper, "…you ratted me out, didn't you?"
"Hurts, doesn't it? Just like those soapbox-standing cults of personality you've swindled all those years. The last thing you want to be feeling for them is empathy." Reaper walked away dramatically before taking a final glimpse at Sombra over his shoulder. "Good luck in there, partner."
Sombra scoffed, "As if I believe in such a thing,"
Sombra was finding herself mildly irritated at Reaper's sense of justification for tattling, quite the bold move on his behalf. She almost thought that the big guy was just warming up to her. Guess those missions didn't change his opinion even in the slightest. It didn't matter though. Sombra's main priority now was to get this over with. No biggie, just a bunch of yelling and finger pointing and being told to never do it again and she'll be on her way.
The council usually consisted of mostly men with differentiating backgrounds of race and social class, but had equal motives either way. At the (sort of) very top of Talon's pecking order are simply known as the Directors who no one at Talon has ever actually met in person. Several Talon bases have been scattered worldwide with each looked over by only one Director. Keeping their locations and identity a secret, they will only reveal themselves through a holographic transmission. Sombra didn't even know what they looked like because of the projection's blurry pixilation of their faces.
Through the double doors, Sombra walked in to the closed-in room as she was welcomed to an empty table. Six seats on each side with each end having only one. At the far end of the table, Sombra could see the shimmering of a few blue lights that clumped together to form a human figure. From there the Director spoke in a robotic distorted voice. "Sombra, glad you could come on such short notice. I believe you are aware of who I am?"
"Si" Sombra replied with her tone laced with a strong amount of exaggeration.
"Good, have a seat."
Sombra settled herself into the chair at the far end of the table. Behind her, a couple of other men in matching suits entered one by one as they occupied the rest of the seats in front of her. Sombra caught sight of the last one that dragged behind and helped herself to the packet of cigarettes in his pocket while his back was turned.
One of the agents on the other hand was what stuck out to Sombra the most, Agent Lexington. The hacker had several unflattering encounters with this man in particular. A tattletale and a real hijo de puta, that's all she could say about him. Having grown to hate Lexington to his very core, Sombra would absorb every detail from the way he talked to how he looked and dressed. Sometimes, all the hacker could think about when encountering him was his rat-like face: A crooked nose that could be used as a bottle opener if you tried with giant nostrils that seemed cracked from the use of his "medication", cheekbones that could give him an edge in a battle with a rhinoceros and skin covered with enough liver spots to block out the sun eclipsing any room he stood in. The icing on the cake was his hairline, if you could say that. A row of bleached hairs that dangled in the back that glistened with mousse, 'He actually mends those albino pubes' Sombra occasionally thought to herself. The agent had a bit of an obsession with keeping her activities within short boundaries, exposing her in any way he seemed fit. To justify his means, he calls it paranoia. To Sombra, it was grossly inept vanity.
The Director took the time to greet each of the men individually before focusing themselves to her. "Now, it has come to our attention that there have been a few transactions indicating withdrawals from our treasury that have gone unregulated. Accounts show that millions of dollars from our hedge funds and bonds as well as several shares of our stock have been compromised. Do you have anything to say in this matter?"
"Depends," Sombra said as she pulled out a purple lighter, lighting the cigarette in her mouth. She glanced over at the last agent as he confusingly wiggled around in his seat and frantically patted the back of his pants pocket. "Do you want a forced confession or a drawn out alibi?"
"We already know it's you, we have enough evidence to prove that. We were just wondering why you found it necessary to go out of your way to commit such an act of treason."
Sombra laughed. "Treason. You payaso's make it seem so sinister, like I just shot your dog in front of you." She took a long draw of the cigarette, obnoxiously blowing the smoke into the air, "Here's something, if you want to act serious about me not putting my hands in your little cookie jar, you could at least try to put it on a higher shelf."
"Are you referring to Talon's security network as too inferior for your own comprehension?"
"Not like it's a lost cause or anything, I mean there's always room for improvement, right?" Sombra could see the looks on each of the agent's faces, how they became more and more irritated each time she opened her mouth. "Hear me out, why don't we just sweep this under the carpet and settle this like an employee performance review, hm? I can tell you how I made it past the account's firewall, add a little more of my magic touch here and there, and as a reward for my overachievement you can let me keep…hmm let's say ninety-five percent of my withdrawal?"
"Here's a bit of a counteroffer, you give us ALL of the stolen capital and we'll be escorting you to the gurney next door."
Before Sombra could come up with a rebuttal that could somehow pull her out of hot water, Agent Lexington shimmied over to the Director's hologram. Sombra had found it hilarious that he was actually whispering into the pixelated ear. She had the urge to point out to him that that's not how those things work, but since Agent Lexington had always meant for others to take him seriously, it would only earn her a punishment worse than death.
"On second thought, we have a better idea." The Director stated. "We've decided that since you're apparently too much of a valuable asset to our cause for us to terminate you, we are going to let you walk…on one condition."
Out of the darkest corner of the room another agent made himself known along with an enclosed paper binder, promptly resting it Lexington's protracted hand. Once he had possession of the documents, he stood out of his chair for an upcoming disclosure.
"Thank you, Bennings. Now we have a few documents from after the Omnic invasion in Mexico that we just so happened to stumble upon. It may have taken us months to find it but it checks out nonetheless." Lexington exclaimed whilst haphazardly flicking the folder at Sombra, "And don't worry about trying to destroy that, we have plenty of other copies safe with us, all guaranteed Sombra-proof."
Sombra opened up the folder and examined every detail to ensure that it wasn't forged or tampered in any way and concluded that it was legit. With every detail of the document she absorbed, little by little her heart sank. At the top left hand corner was a picture of her as a child from her grade school before the Omnic invasion. Just right from the photo was a name. It was a full name that seemed to sideswipe her in ways she couldn't even fathom. The last time she had this kind of ambush, the whiplash felt to the likes of being rammed by a semi-truck, but this was more being impaled through the skull with a titanium spear that sent enough shockwaves of red lightning through her system to light up a football stadium several times over. She felt sick to her stomach as the boiling water that circulated in her veins cooked her insides and bellowed enough steam through her skin to melt the nylon of her purple jacket.
She wanted to throw the folder at somebody, but it wasn't worth the effort. Even though it was painful to do so, she had to look stern and not show any sign of vulnerability to Agent Lexington even with the twitching hand that she held the cigarette with in clear sight.
"Surprised? You shouldn't be. If you were to be just as smart as you looked, you would be running this organization all on your own!" Everyone at the table including the Director began to laugh at Lexington's own superiority over the hacker. "Tell us, Sombra, are you familiar with the concept of blackmail?"
Disgusted by Lexington's degrading rhetorical question, Sombra refused to answer, since it was so clear what he meant.
"Of course you do, so here's the gist. Unless you want to wake up the next morning and see your name on every news media outlet we can get a hold of, we would appreciate it if you could give all of us here at Talon your complete and total compliancy from here on out. We will be having our best recruits supervising you around the base as well as on your missions and you will be on curfew for when you intend on moving outside of our parameters. And don't worry if you do not feel well-adjusted to these changes at first, because we have ensured you will be working with us here at Talon for a very very long time. Do we make ourselves clear?"
Sombra nodded hesitantly in defeat, eyes still glued to the folder.
"Good. Oh, and we are going to have to be confiscating that flash drive of yours, for precautionary measures of course."
At this point, Sombra didn't have time for anything else the council wanted in terms of cutting her at her knees, she had a new priority and that was to get out of that room immediately. Putting the cigarette back in her mouth, Sombra reached for one of two USB drives on her belt and put it up to her face, twiddling it in her fingers with both hands as she examined it in front of the council, "Don't come crying to me when this all blows up in your face." She exclaimed as she tossed it at the far end of the table. Jumping out of her seat, she manically rushed towards the door.
"Oh, and one more thing,"
Sombra stood in place just through the doorway, refusing to look at the agents to acknowledge hearing them.
"We usually don't condone smoking here."
Still looking towards the exit, Sombra dropped the cigarette onto the floor just in between the entryway, with one swift motion stomping the bud and grinding the ashes into the dust. Without any further words, the hacker departed into the hallway, leaving behind a thin, vertical trail of smoke that rose to the ceiling and disappeared into the ultraviolet light.