PRISONER OF WAR
An OverWatch Fan Fiction
By Mooncatx aka Bliss Crimson
Widowmaker/Mercy and Amelie/Moira. It might get kind of dark. Plus, I don't speak, write or read French with any kind of fluency. So my humble apologies if I butcher the language when I try to interject some of Amelie LaCroix's native language into the story line. Sorry French People! Sorry people who read French! If you have better translations, please let me know and I'll be happy to fix the French bits. (^_^);; And now the story, such as it is, begins.
Amelie LaCroix - Widowmaker
She woke like the snap of broken bone. One moment nothingness, the next abrupt, acute awareness. The throb of pain so pervasive she could barely control the urge to retch. Instead iron will kept her still, supple, body relaxed as if she were still unconscious. There was no fuzziness to her memories. She remembered with embarrassing clarity running right into the little cadre Of Overwatch agents, at of all things a coffee shop
She'd stopped more on whim than anything else. Subtle scents of hazelnut and caramel mixed with the bitter richness of freshly roasted beans had lured her in. It was after mission and her time was her own for a while. Reaper had already disappeared in his midnight smoke for parts unknown, leaving Sombra and herself to their own devices in the Marrakesh marketplace. Sombra had quickly lost herself in the mass of humanity that washed like ocean through the tangled labyrinth of shops, stalls, and carts that was the local bazaar, leaving Widowmaker to amuse herself.
The most recent firefight only hours ago was now a dusty memory, and they were all in need of a little decompression. This oasis in what was otherwise hundreds if not thousands of miles of dessicated desert had seemed the best spot for rest and relaxation. It made sad sense that Overwatch had the same idea. Only hours ago, Overwatch and Talon operatives had fought in bitter contest over yet another payload of controversial tech. Sometimes Widowmaker wondered if OverWatch agents even knew what they were escorting, or if it mattered as long as they knew it was something Talon wanted. Sometimes it wasn't about the objective, but simply keeping it from your nemesis. Yet, lately missions were beginning to blur together. There was monotony in repetition. Even the bright moments of the kill were beginning to dim as that annoying medic, Mercy, kept reviving people after Widowmaker had taken them out with a crisp clean head shot. A sudden golden glow later and Amelie might as well have not have wasted the bullet. Merde!
Though in this recent run in she might have to give the golden haired healer her due. The recollection of a sudden crunch as Reinhardt's warhammer struck her own too fragile skull from behind. Bash! And she was down before her surprise could even register. The last coherent memory was Mcree's metal tipped boot stomping down to finish what the German giant had started. She should be dead. She probably sustained enough trauma for critical injury, if not outright termination. But for all the sensation of nausea and exquisitely painful ache, LaCroix knew she was fortunate to be alive enough to still suffer. The sound of raised voices scraped along her senses, it was moments before she could focus through the misery to understand what was happening. A babble of Arabic mixed almost equally with French, punctuated with earthy English and German curses from Reinhardt and McCree. Mercy's slightly more bearable, professionally soothing vocals lilted through the chaos, trying to settle the uproar. Of course there would be an uproar. The imbeciles had technically assaulted her on foreign soil, without the least legal authority. While Overwatch might have her on their shit list, Amelie LaCroix wasn't wanted for crimes in Morocco, fils de pute, she wasn't even a person of interest locally. Marrakesh through the ages was a world market with very… flexible mores. Nothing offered was free, and anything not offered had a price. She had felt comfortable with her legal status enough to walk freely, alone, in the city streets. She hadn't been so casually off guard for a long while, and it had cost her most dear.
It was in her favor though, that the Overwatch agents had overstepped their bounds. Amelie had never been caught or prosecuted for her actions as a Talon operative. She had no real criminal record, even if intelligence agencies world wide might have a file on her alleged activities. Meanwhile Overwatch had been publicly disgraced and disbanded. Overwatch was in fact, in a grey area where their merely existing as Overwatch was a criminal act in most parts of the world. Acting even as civilians, not affiliated with Overwatch, they would be culpable for attacking like thugs and beating her down in a public shop. They had screwed up. Royally. But that would not be enough to save her from getting plucked off the street and dumped into an Overwatch interrogation cell. That would be the death of her after all. Even if Overwatch didn't end her with their information extraction methods, Gerard had meant too much to too many of them for her not to have a convenient accident. As well, Talon might get to her first. Less likely a rescue as a tying off of a loose spider's silken thread. Sooner than later, Talon would see to it that her cupid's bow lips were sealed against spilling secrets of any kind.
Despite Overwatch's mouth service to being the Good Guys, Widowmaker knew too well that it's shadow side, BlackWatch had given Talon some of it's most elite operatives. Overwatch and Talon were near kin, and there was no such vicious rivalry as between closest blood. There was small hope for mercy… She almost smiled, Well, perhaps the soft hearted medic could be worked, if all else failed. Reinhardt was one of Overwatch's founding members. He and Gerard had been close as only brothers in arms could be. The German warrior would not be kind to the woman who had killed Gerard LaCroix in their marriage bed. McCree had been BlackWatch, and a Deadlock Gang member before that. Her blood was still smeared wet on his boots. No, her only chance if she were to be taken in by OverWatch would be through the medical agent Mercy. She too had been a friend of Gerard, but her call sign, manner, and the obvious fact that Amelie yet breathed and had yet a reasonably intact skull, indicated that manipulating the healer was the course of action that would be the most beneficial. If Overwatch managed to bring her into custody. Catching Widowmaker was one thing. Keeping her was entirely another.
The bite of rope around her wrists and ankles constricted even more as stealthily she tested the bindings. The cowboy had apparently hogtied her after Mercy had repaired the more dire damage that Widowmaker had taken. When she won her freedom, Amelie knew she'd enjoy a slow hunt with the hombre. His death would be bright indeed. She nearly shivered, the anticipation of the thrill almost warming her cold blood.
Angela Ziegler - Mercy
Mercy swept an uneasy eye over the still limp form of Widowmaker. Reinhardt's blow had been swift and certain doom, striking the dark haired french sniper like a crack of thunder. His face had been like stone, like death. McCree had been quick to follow up with a stomp to put Widowmaker out and keep her out. Mercy wasn't certain if they'd meant to kill the Talon agent outright in the middle of the cafe, in front of dozens of eye witnesses. The shocked onlookers were convinced Overwatch was the criminal party in what looked like to the casual observer, an unprovoked attack. Angela would have face palmed, if she were not so busy smoothing over the outrage of local authorities. It was easier to do that without a corpse on the ground. However the hogtied Widowmaker, looking delicate and feminine in her casual street attire, was not doing their image any great favors. The moment the Talon agent woke up and started to work the locals, things could get infinitely worse. As if cued by Angela's thoughts, a ragged wail broke from the captured woman's lips. Artfully sobbed pleas for succor in that soft breathy French. Amelie LaCroix looked as helpless as a kitten, and those lambent gold eyes opened wide, shimmered with what looked to be barely unshed tears.
"Un appel à l'aide! Assassiné moi, les criminels attaque a main armee! (Help! These armed criminals are trying to kill me!)
Abruptly the breathy babble cut off. Reinhardt and McCree had started towards LaCroix, hammer and guns drawn. Amelie gave a short, piercing shriek, that caused Mercy to clap her hands over her ears. Gott in Himmel! The little baggage had begun to shake, trembling while twisting frantically, yet somehow attractively in her bondage. She was the very image of a damsel in distress. Mercy was half moved to rescue the minx herself. Widowmaker would have made a fine actress if she had not gone into the Ballet. She had stage presence in spades. Her performance certainly had stirred the crowd around them. One well meaning soul tried to step between the male Overwatch agents and Widowmaker. Mercy hastily moved around the bystander and took matters into her own hands. A single strike of her Caduceus and the Talon agent was once more out like a light.
To be continued.