Hello, and welcome to my Mercymaker fanfic! This fanfiction is inspired by fanart I saw a little while ago. I also love the pairing. I have another fanfic based on Widowmaker x Tracer, if you would like to check it out! Anyways, enjoy the first chapter :)

"Bourbon? Wine? Soda? Perhaps some LaCroix?" the waiter asked, peering over his glasses.

Decisions, decisions.

"LaCroix, please," Angela Ziegler said, reading over the menu for the eleventh time. She was in the mood for some alcohol, yet she refrained. Alcohol never did her any good.

"LaCroix. Good choice, ma'am," the waiter said, walking away.

Angela Ziegler, better known by her callsign Mercy, was waiting for a certain person to discuss pressing matters. She hadn't had a break since Winston activated the recall.

"Hey, Angela!" an all too familiar voice laughed, sitting in the leather seat across from Mercy. "You're back in Great Britain!"

"Lena," Angela said rather endearingly, getting up to hug Tracer.

Mercy, for the past year, had been volunteering in several human and omnic rights associations, heading the medical teams and providing support in dire situations. She had only been in King's Row for a little over two weeks, yet King's Row was more riddled up with violence than anywhere else Mercy had been in the past few months. It was rapidly becoming a war zone. Omnics were killed left and right. Human casualties were slowly progressing. Politicians were corrupt. Terrorists were prowling, waiting for the perfect opportunity to create chaos.

"Water, please," Lena said to the waiter. "And a dessert menu."

"You're still... you," Mercy said, watching Lena engulf an appetizer that was brought out. "How are you?"

"I'm fine. And you?"

"Could be better."

"Thinking about Overwatch?" Lena asked, reaching for a napkin. "Are you joining again?"

"Cutting straight to the chase now, aren't we?"

"I know how you feel about Overwatch reactivating. I was doubtful about joining Overwatch again. Ya know, ever since the scandals. But, Angela. The world needs us now, more than ever. You of all people should know that," Tracer said.

"Recalling us was an abrupt thing to do on Winston's part," Angela sighed, wishing she had gone with an alcoholic drink. "I don't know how I feel about Overwatch reactivating again. Overwatch may very well be riddled with corruption. And you know how I feel about Overwatch's... approach to things. But, I know I would be saving more lives under Overwatch's command. It's my chance to make an impact."

"Ya gotta pick what's best for everybody that needs help. Even if it means you have to work with an evil. Speaking of, guess who showed up from the grave?"

"Morrison," Mercy whispered. "Old man had me fooled."

"I mourned him, I truly did." Lena replied, finishing her glass of water. "Like he always said. Old soldiers never die. Whatever your decision, Ziegler, I'll support you one hundred percent."

The pair ate in complete silence. Tracer knew that Angela was contriving her next words carefully.

"I think it's time for me to put my Valkyrie suit back on. I can't let my viewpoints get in the way of my goals. Joining Overwatch would grant me the opportunity to save lives beyond what I'm doing right now."

Tracer smiled, paying her tab. "There's the Angela I know! Always so ambitious." All of a sudden, Tracer flashed her signature smirk. "Have you gotten in contact with Genji? I heard he's returning to Overwatch!"

Mercy turned red. "N-no. I haven't seen him in months."

"You should give him a chance!"

Mercy didn't understand why anyone would be interested in her. She didn't believe she was anything special. "He's not interested in me. Genji's, like, my brother. We're just friends-"

"-With benefits!"

"Lena!"

The moonlight gave off a luminescent glow, obscuring the shadows of the night. The towering trees cowered over the ground. The eerie silence was enough to drive a normal person to insanity.

Widowmaker was not a normal person. She preferred the silence, the thrill of the unknown, the emptiness in the atmosphere. She fully accepted the sharp, uncomfortable feeling in the back of her head. It was always there.

She scoped in, peering into the office building. A frail, pale man was typing on a laptop, completely oblivious to his untimely demise.

"Perfect," Widowmaker whispered, lining up a clean shot. The ticking of time slowed. Her breaths became shallow and light. Her clean slate of mind concentrated on one objective and one objective only: to secure the kill.

Widowmaker's little ritual was interrupted by the sound of her earpiece beeping.

"Agent Lacroix."

Widowmaker lowered her infamous Widow's Kiss, letting out a sigh of annoyance. "Quoi? Make it fast."

"You are to go to the location sent to you. There, you will await further instructions."

Without batting an eye, Widowmaker whipped out her rifle and shot the man.

She memorized the coordinates of her location and determined that it would take approximately one hour before she arrived at her destination. Perfect.

Widowmaker gracefully hopped from one building to another, balancing her rifle in her right arm. She always thought about her next move. She never lamented over the past. Once an uncomfortable thought formed in her head, she crushed it. She simply did what she was told and would make it her primary objective to only think about her goals. It kept her mind off of things. Off of herself.

Widowmaker peered around her. This was the location. She was on top of a crumbling building, and the smell of mold filled Widowmaker's nose. A decaying carcass stood at Widowmaker's feet. She kicked it off the building in disgust.

A Talon freighter revealed itself, dispatching the ramp so Widowmaker could enter the advanced aircraft.

Widowmaker took off her visor, revealing her face to the Talon operatives sitting at a desk. Although they were higher in rank than Widowmaker, she still intimidated the men and barked orders when necessary.

Widowmaker sat down in a vacant armchair, placing her rifle at her feet. "Well, well. We've been expecting you," an unnamed operative said. He was a thick, burly man, wearing sunglasses so as to obscure his eyes.

Widowmaker rolled her eyes. "Really?" she said, sarcasm rolling off her tongue.

The operative ignored her comment and adjusted himself in his seat. "You will be accompanying Reaper and several soldiers on a mission. Since Overwatch is now reestablished, we thought we could send them a warm welcome back."

Widowmaker smirked. She liked where this was going.

"Overwatch's new base of operations is located in Las Vegas, Nevada. You will slip into into the secured main office and steal information regarding future Overwatch prospects. Reaper and his gang of henchmen will provide a distraction and execute as many people as possible. Creates shock value."

"I'm not invited to the massacre? What a pity," Widowmaker said, sending shivers down the operatives' spines. No matter. As long as she got the job done, she was satisfied.