Reaper elbowed the soldier in the chest. He then shoved his shotgun up the poor guy's mouth and pulled the trigger. The Talon agent threw the empty weapon on the blown-up caracasse's remains. He spun his head around to his next target: a panicky-looking young soldier. Reaper transformed himself into a cloud of smoke and in an instant reappeared behind the young man. He kicked the poor soldier in the back of the knee, collapsing him to the ground. He then fired upon the dead man over and over and over. Six times did he shoot until the body was a bloody, pulpy mess. Satisfied, he threw the gun onto the corpse and drew two more. Reaper looked around him and almost laughed aloud when he noticed he had been surrounded. "Die, die, die!" he cackled, and they did.

A little ways off, the deadly Talon assassin, Widowmaker, was fighting against some soldiers of her own. She stood on a rock and fired again and again at a line of soldiers charging towards her. Each shot was placed squarely between the eyes. So many bodies fell. She was mechanical, lifeless, emotionless. The perfect killer. It was pretty easy, all this killing. She noticed with slight interest that she had eliminated many more hostiles than her companion. She knew though that he would get all the credit for this mission. The people at Talon HQ seemed to love kissing his ass.

Reaper and Widowmaker soon finished off their opponents, but something didn't seem right. They still felt tense, as if the battle wasn't over. And it wasn't.

Out of nowhere, the Overwatch agents Winston and Tracer entered the battle. Winston crashed into the ground from a jet which had already flown away. He made a crater. As for Tracer, she blinked up behind him, laughing the whole way.

Widowmaker narrowed her eyes and bit her lip. These two were worthy opponents. Well, Tracer was. The gorilla was easily dealt with. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Reaper nod to her. They had a plan for dealing with these two. Widowmaker fired her grappling hook at another pillar, and went whistling across the battlefield. As she did, she fired four quick sniper shots at Winston. He roared and jumped into the air after her, but was soon met by a roundhouse kick from Reaper right to the knee. The enraged ape fell back to the ground only to be sprayed by shotgun blasts from the black-clad murderer. Reaper cackled terrifyingly.

Tracer cursed under her breath and started blinking towards Widowmaker who was standing atop the pillar, firing relentlessly at poor Winston. When she saw Tracer coming, she spun towards her and quickly fired a venom mine in her general direction. Mid-air, Tracer kicked it back towards the sniper and it exploded in her face. The Overwatch agent dropped to the ground, looking expectantly at the cloud of poison.

Widowmaker hacked and coughed as the poison made its way into her lungs. It was a sneaky, tricky move there Tracer pulled. But it was a good one. She didn't want to admit it, but Widowmaker greatly respected the little Overwatch agent.

Reaper kicked Winston again in the head, intending to make a hole in his thick skull. Reluctantly though, he stopped. The real objective of this mission wasn't to eliminate those soldiers earlier. Judging by the lack of sniper fire, his partner was defeated. See, his real mission here was to end The Widowmaker. Talon had decided she was too dangerous to be kept alive. The mind-blanking treatment they had been using on her was starting to become less and less effective, she was starting to become more human, so a small part of Talon had asked Reaper to kill her without making too much noise, since there were members of the organization who thought she could still be a valuable asset. Reaper was not one of those members.

He stalked towards Widowmaker's unconscious body which had fallen off of the pillar. Reaper looked all around him, but there was no sign of the Overwatch agent who had accompanied the gorilla. He smiled behind his mask. The Talon agent steadily aimed his gun towards his former partner's head.

Tracer watched uneasily from behind a large boulder at the scene that was unfolding in front of her. She wasn't quite sure of what was going on. But it seemed like Reaper was about to betray his friend. That didn't seem like that good of a thing to Tracer. She didn't know what drove her to do it, but before she knew what was going on, she had tackled the cloaked Talon agent.

Reaper threw Tracer off of him, stunned by the impact of her slight but surprisingly powerful body. He noticed with utter disappointment that both Winston and Widowmaker were waking up. He decided it was time to go.

"Not again!" Tracer shouted a few minutes later after in an intense chase, watching the Talon dropship shrinking into a tiny dot and then fading away completely. They had evaded her again. Next time, she thought to herself. Next time she would beat them.

Back at the Talon base, Widowmaker collapsed down onto her bed. She of course had no recollection of what had happened while she was unconscious. She found herself wishing for another encounter with those two Overwatch agents again. Namely, Tracer. She didn't understand it. She wanted revenge of course, but there was something else. A desire other than revenge. She felt more than just alive when she was fighting that girl. She was filled with emotions. Anger, for she hated her. Fear, for she was afraid of losing. And maybe even happiness. There was something about that Tracer's laugh that was...hopeful. It would be even sweeter to end her, Widowmaker told herself.

A few days later, the Talon duo were back at another mission. They, at Widowmaker's request, were in London, sent to assassinate Tracer.

Widowmaker crouched on a building and flipped down her visor. She could see the target's heat signature. She could also see the heat signature of Reaper who just kicked down the door.

Tracer stood up and spun her head around. She saw Talon's black-clad monster, cackling horrendously in her doorway. Without thinking, Tracer blinked into her room and grabbed her pistols then blinked right back out.

Widowmaker watched the whole thing. Reaper was firing relentlessly at Tracer, the little agent just barely dodging the unending storm of bullets. She just didn't have time to squeeze off a single shot. Suddenly, Reaper threw something onto the floor that let off a large pulse, and Widowmaker's visor stopped working. She flipped it up, confused. The sniper had lost sight of the battle, and she didn't like that. A couple of seconds later, she heard Reaper over the comms. "Get in here," he growled. Widowmaker obediently hopped off the building, and landed lightly on her feet down below. She peered cautiously into Tracer's home from the doorway. It was covered in bullet holes. And there was the target herself. Trapped and unconscious underneath an overturned couch. She was about to take a step inside when Reaper materialized out of the shadows in front of her and punched her in the face.

He laughed hideously as his punch sent the poor sniper flying into the snowy winter streets of London. Reaper slowly walked towards her as she futilely tried to scramble away. He slammed his boot into her chest again and again. It stole the breath from her lungs, stole the strength from her body. She had no idea what was going on. This betrayal was so unforeseen. Reaper paused from his relentless stomping. Then he had a better idea. The horrible Talon agent lifted her up by the neck and threw her into a building with inhuman strength. She hit the wall hard and dropped into the snow, her vision fading. He slowly lifted his shotgun to her face for the second time. For the second time, Tracer stopped him.

This time, she didn't hold back. Tracer blinked behind Reaper and unleashed two entire magazines of fire directly into his back. The cloaked agent roared in pain then dissipated into a cloud of smoke which promptly flew off.

The last sight Widowmaker saw before loss of blood caused her to fully lose consciousness was Tracer's face looking down at her.

A few hours later, Widowmaker opened her eyes. The first thing she noticed was that she was in somebody's home. Not a very nice home. It was covered top to bottom in bullet holes. A house covered in bullet holes...why was that familiar? The sniper shook her head. That's right, Reaper had done this to that damn girl, Tracer's home. And that meant… She tried to stand up but instantly fell back down onto the very damaged couch. There was a throbbing pain in…everywhere. It felt like she had been run over. Oh, because Reaper had almost pounded her into a pulp. Why had he done that? She didn't have time to wonder, Tracer had just entered the room.

"Good, you're awake," she said quietly.

Widowmaker bit her lip. This was a bad situation. "What do you want?" she asked through her teeth.

Tracer shrugged helplessly. "I don't know. I don't know why I did this." It seemed she was starting to regret it.

Widowmaker sat up straight and held her chin high. "If you're going to end me, do it now," she said proudly.

"Wha–? No, no. I didn't want to do that. I'm just going to keep you here 'til I figure out what to do with you."

"Why do that?" Widowmaker demanded harshly, "What could you possibly lose from killing me now?"

"A human life," Tracer blurted out, "If I killed you, a human life would be lost."

Widowmaker looked down. After some time, she muttered quietly, "It's been so long since anyone called me a human...instead of some kind of a monster or just a tool."

The Overwatch agent sat down on the couch next to her captive, a little stunned by that brief look into this poor person's miserable life. "That's...that's really how they treated you?"

The former Talon agent just nodded.

"They won't touch you while you're here," Tracer assured her.

Widowmaker nodded again. This girl was nice, but being here...it wouldn't last. Something would happen. Something awful always seemed to happen to her.

The sniper was left to stew alone with her thoughts. Not because Tracer had left, but because she had pushed her away. Widowmaker had to remind herself that this person was her enemy. Talon had tried to kill her. Both of them, actually. She didn't know what she would do anymore. She couldn't stay here forever. It just didn't make sense to be living in the same home as her mortal enemy. She had decided to stay here for a couple days, a week tops, then collect her things and leave. From there she could become a mercenary or something. Work for a PF or a crime lord. It wasn't a great plan, but it was probably her best bet.

Tracer had retreated to her room when the callous assassin made it clear she wanted to be left alone. There she wondered what to do of this whole predicament. She'd contacted Winston earlier while Widowmaker was asleep, asking him what to do. He said he'd have a holding cell ready at Watchpoint: Gibraltar for her in a couple weeks. (The place was in major disrepair.) Until then, she'd have to watch this prisoner alone.

That night, Tracer offered her captive some dinner. Widowmaker a little bit less than gladly accepted. They sat at a table across from each other. After a minute or two of silence, Tracer spoke up. "So what do you do for fun?" she asked cheerily.

Widowmaker hid her smile. What an odd question. What could be gained from such a stupid question? She decided to entertain the idea. "I like to read sometimes," she said modestly.

Tracer smiled. What an unremarkable little quirk. It was just a normal little quality. It really was quite interesting; she'd never really considered this murderous psychopath to be a reader. "I like sports myself," Tracer replied.

Widowmaker nodded. This person sitting in front of her had quite a wonderful voice. It was nice to listen to it. Realizing what she was doing, what she was getting herself into, Widowmaker pushed the thoughts out of her head. She stood up painfully. "I think I'll get to bed now."

"Oh," Tracer said, "there's a spare room. Do you want it?"

Widowmaker nodded once again. "Yes. Thank you."

A few days passed. Mostly, Widowmaker kept to her room. However, her captor tried relentlessly to make a connection to the cold sniper. But her apathetic attitude was like an iron wall that kept poor Tracer shut out. There was a reason for it though. Widowmaker knew she couldn't be friends with her, no matter how much she wanted to to. It just wouldn't work. But...eventually, Tracer whittled her down.

Widowmaker woke up early one morning. She heard memories of last night in her head quite clearly that morning. Tracer had tried so hard that night to make her laugh. It was a good effort, and one that Widowmaker appreciated. She wanted to convey something to her. Let her in.

Tracer woke up a little later. She sat up in bed and ran a hand through her short hair. The little agent exhaled softly then went to her prisoner's room. To her utter dismay, Widowmaker was not there. She spun around to see the familiar blue woman standing behind her holding two mugs. Tracer relaxed.

The former agent offered Tracer one of the mugs. It was filled with hot chocolate. Tracer smiled as she took a sip of it. "Why'd you do this?" she asked.

Widowmaker shrugged. "A small repayment for what you done for me. Let's sit down."

Tracer finished her chocolate and laid her mug down on the table. "That was a really nice thing to do."

Widowmaker gave her a glance over the top of her mug as she gulped down the last little bit. "You shouldn't be so trusting of me. I could've put something in it."

The little agent shook her head. "I knew you wouldn't have done that."

"And why is that?"

"Well," Tracer began thoughtfully, "I just have a feeling that you're not that kind of person."

Widowmaker said nothing. Was that really how she was seen? How could she have so much faith in her? This Tracer really was a peculiar person. "I never got your name," Widowmaker said after some time.

"Oh," Tracer said with a smile, "Lena Oxton." Lena Oxton held out her hand.

"Amélie Lacroix." Amélie Lacroix shook her hand.

After that, the two were closer with each other. Lena showed Amélie some of her favorite books. Amélie loved all of them. They spent a lot of their time talking to each other now. Lena was so glad to have finally broken down Amélie's Social defenses.

The two were sitting on the couch. Amélie was contentedly reading a book Lena had given to her. Lena was watching Amélie's expressions as she turned the pages. She'd never considered she'd be happily enjoying time with this woman. "I'm so happy this happened," she remarked after a while.

Amélie closed her book and looked at her. "What do you mean?"

"I don't know," Lena said, "That we're not enemies anymore. That we're friends."

"We...can't be friends," Amélie said slowly, "You can't be friends with me. You're just my captor."

Lena edged a little closer to her. "You wouldn't be so nice to me if we were just enemies."

Amélie actually blushed. She stood up angrily. "We're not friends!" she shouted, balling up her fists at her sides. She didn't know why she was so upset. She hadn't wanted to feel anything for anyone in so long for fear of...sending them Gérard's way.

Lena didn't know if she was just harassing this poor person or not anymore. She was honestly a little upset Amélie didn't consider her to be her friend. That wasn't nice, that wasn't…what was she talking about? This was the same person who had killed Tekhartha Mondata and tried to steal the Doomfist. Why would she want to be friends with her? "You're right…" she said quietly after a moment of silence. "We aren't friends," she said, the hostility in her voice growing with every syllable, "You're just a monster! You're a killer! I should've let you die!"

Amélie spun around before Lena could see the tears welling up in her eyes.

Back in her room, the sniper collapsed down on her bed, covering her face in her hands. Was she right to push Lena away like that? She was just so afraid that something would happen to her like something happened to Gérard… She didn't want to hurt her. That was it. That was what she told herself. But as she thought it over, was she trying not to hurt Lena, or trying not to hurt herself? Was she trying to keep her heart from being broken if anything ever happened to Lena? But more importantly, had she done something to Lena just now?

Lena sat on her bed. She was trying to justify her actions. Had she been needlessly cruel? Either way, she couldn't help but feel bad. She had hurt the murderous psychopath's feelings. Suddenly, Lena heard a soft knock at her door. She stood up and walked towards it, turning the doorknob slowly.

"I'm...sorry," Amélie said.

Lena smiled. "Me too. Friends?" she asked hopefully, holding out her hand.

Amélie shook it firmly. "Friends," she said.

The next couple of days went by very easily. Lena got Amélie to smile a few times, even slightly chuckled once. However, the headstrong sniper denied she had done anything of the sort. One evening, Lena approached Amélie with a question.

"Do you...want to go out to dinner?" she asked casually.

Amélie nodded. "An interesting notion. But how do you know I won't try to escape?"

Lena smiled. "I trust you," she said quietly.

Soon, they had put on coats and were out the door. Amélie shivered when she stepped outside. "It is very cold," she remarked.

Lena shrugged. "It's not all that bad."

"I...don't produce body heat," Amélie said, slightly embarrassed by her own condition.

A wide grin crossed the Overwatch agent's face. "I guess you're just going to have to stay close to me then," she said, shifting towards her disgruntled companion.

They arrived soon at a restaurant Lena had pointed out. The two sat down and soon a waiter came along.

"What'll we be having tonight?" he asked

Lena ordered something, and Amélie awkwardly mumbled that she'd have the same. The waiter walked away.

"What was that?" Lena laughed after a little while.

"I'm not very good around people," Amélie grumbled.

Lena smirked. "Not all people," she said quietly.

But Amélie didn't hear.

Soon, their food arrived. Some kind of fish. Lena remarked that it was her favorite dish from this place. She starting eating, making annoying 'Mmm' sounds after every bite. Amélie cut off a small piece and took a little nibble of it. Instantly, a smile crossed her face. She soon began digging in, and was finished with uncanny speed.

Lena gawked at Amélie and her empty plate of food. "Did you like it?"

Amélie wiped her face with her napkin. "It was...satisfactory," she remarked.

In a few minutes, they had left the restaurant and were making their way home. Amélie let Lena hold her hand.

As they were walking, Lena happened to notice an Omnic lying down in an alleyway. He looked rusty and damaged. The Overwatch agent pointed him out to her companion and went to approach. "Are you…" she began, but her voice trailed off.

The Omnic turned its hideously scarred face towards her, then uttered a single deep, guttural phrase. "Apagando las luces." Its eyes turned an odd shade of purple. Then with surprising agility, it leaped towards Lena and pushed her to the snow-covered ground. Immediately, with rusting claws it tried to rend her delicate form to shreds.

It didn't.

In a split-second, Widowmaker connected her boot with the Omnic's metal skull. It flew back into the wall. She picked a pipe up off the ground and slowly walked towards the wounded assailant. She lifted it up off of its knees with a single hand and embedded the metal pipe in its chest. Then she dropped the wretched creature back to the ground. She gloated over her kill for a moment, then remembered Lena.

"Are you okay?" Amélie asked, helping her friend up.

Lena looked at her and smiled a weak smile with a little thumbs-up. "I'm okay," she assured her. Then her eyes fell upon the mutilated Omnic. "Is he…?"

Amélie regarded the metal corpse. "We'd...better get home," she said.

Once they were home and had taken off their boots and coats, Lena turned to the former Talon agent. "What you did to that Omnic…" she began.

Amélie didn't meet her eyes. She knew she had let herself slip away. In that moment, Amélie had died, and The Widowmaker had taken control. "Lena, I'm sorry. I saw him attack you, and I–"

She never finished her sentence though, because Lena had pulled her in and kissed her.