Prologue

An image of a rooftop becomes clear in her mind, running past Big Ben and the muzzle of a Rifle pressed close to her face. Suddenly a jumble of images, a bullet and Mondatta laying limply on the ground. A scream pierces her skull, followed by sound of her own voice.

She asks desperately "Why...Why would you do this?" as a laughing pierces the night in response.

Lena Oxton sat bolt upright in her bed, trying to get her bearings. After taking a few seconds, she realised it was just a nightmare, the same nightmare she had experienced countless times. Looking over, she saw Emily still asleep beside her, a calming image that helped her reclaim a grip on reality. The beads of sweat on her forehead told of the panic she still felt, the desperation of being unable to stop that tragic event from taking place. That laugh and the smirk on the face looking back at her, would haunt her dreams forever. For all the power Lena possessed as Tracer and all the abilities she had, there was nothing she could do to bring Mondatta back.

Amélie Lacroix had once been a loving and devoted wife to Overwatch agent Gérard. This was before she had been kidnapped, brutally tortured and reconditioned to become the cold hearted killing machine she now was. Widowmaker, now a high ranking Talon agent, had become one of the world's most feared assassins and Lena's foremost adversary. It was still a mystery to Lena how some people could be so twisted. To go after Gérard directly, it just seemed like something you could expect an enemy would do. The path Talon had taken with the destruction of Amélie's personality however, it seemed evil beyond comprehension. To have Gérard's own wife kill him in his sleep was the act of cowards. Lena felt she had lost two friends that day. It was difficult not to feel sympathy or even pity for Amélie, but the woman on that rooftop, the woman laughing at her, was no longer someone she recognised. Mondatta only wanted to help pave the way for everyone to live in peace. His death seemed a pointless act, one of an organisation whose only objective, appeared to be the creation of chaos.

The sound of her communicator disrupted her thoughts, Winston calling at this hour meant Overwatch business, that or he'd sat on his communicator again. She thought with some amusement that everybody should have a friend as good as Winston. Either way, it was time to answer the call.

"Hey Winston!" she said yawning, rubbing the sleepiness from her eyes and trying to recover from her reverie. "What's the matter luv?"

A second passed before Winston looked at her. He was seemingly occupied by something else and grumbling to himself."Oh hello Lena, we have a new mission."

"Can I get you another drink Lena?" Amélie spoke softly as she approached her husband's new assistant.

These dinner events could be boring, but they were a chance to socialise, a chance to see what kept her husband so busy and needing to travel so much of the time. Gérard was in many ways the perfect husband. He was loving, affectionate and there for her when it counted. At the times though, he could be evasive, standoffish and Amélie could not shake the feeling there were things he did not tell her. His work seemed perfectly uninteresting, but he never really spoke about it at all, unless she prompted him. Now he had a new attractive young assistant and she had been with him on his last few trips. It seemed unfair and even silly to be insecure about it, but that nagging feeling persisted. She knew Gérard was hiding things and she was determined to find out what they were. Amélie approached Lena with a fresh glass of Champagne in hand.

"Cheers Luv!" Lena said brightly.

"I'm Amélie, nice to meet you," she said calmly.

"Of course!" Lena replied "Gérard talks about you all the time. He's never really happy without you when we're away," she finished brightly.

That did bring a smile to Amélie's face, but also caused her to to push a little further. "What is it a bright young thing like yourself does for my husband?" she asked.

Gérard never struck her as someone she would need to worry about like that, but many men had fallen for the attractive new woman in their lives. Lena seemed a little caught out by her question and Amélie caught the millisecond it took her to compose herself before answering.

"A little bit of this, a little bit of that, basically I take care of whatever he needs." Lena's reply seemed a little too casual and caused a stir of frustration in Amélie.

"I'm sure you do." Amélie replied curtly and she knew as soon as the words were uttered that she should have controlled herself.

"Ohh" Lena said with a smile. The laugh that came next was not what Amélie had expected. "Gérard would never do that to you, but even if he did, I'd be the last person you need to worry about." Lena's response confused Amélie and the look on her face must have given away that confusion.

"He's really not my type," Lena said after another little laugh. Amélie still stood with a rather blank look on her face, so Lena continued. "If anything you're more my type than he is." Lena finished her statement with a mischievous look.

Now it was Amélie's turn to laugh. "Well I will take the compliment," she said smiling. Amélie felt suitably foolish for the evening and realised she had made the last few minutes uncomfortable for both of them. "I'm sorry. I must seem like an idiot. Gérard is away so much these days and I feel like there's so much he does not tell me."

Lena seemed calmer now and spoke a little more seriously. "The work we do is boring, but in the our business there's so much we can't talk about for legal reasons. I'm sure if you ask Gérard about it and tell him you really want to know, he'll tell you what he can. It's all just business stuff. He's probably just concerned he'll send you to sleep," she finished lightly.

For the rest of the night Amélie sat with Lena. They drank and laughed, talking about other guests at the party, making fun of some of the more outlandish outfits. At the end of the night they were called over together, asked to be in a photograph with some of her husband's other colleagues.

That moment now seemed a part of the distant past. Sat in the grey interior of her quarters at the back of the Talon ship, looking at the photograph from that day, Widowmaker realised it was one of her more lasting and vivid memories. It was also one of the last real memories she still had from her previous life. She considered how this photograph got here, or how it even came to be among her scant belongings. She would never have seen it, had it not been trapped between two spare cases of her most prized ammunition. It was a memory that seemed almost nostalgic, but her cold heart could no longer feel such things. At that time, it had been Amélie and Lena. That was before she had known about Overwatch and Lena's role as Tracer. It seemed so long ago and so far from her current life. Tracer was now like a fly buzzing around her at every turn. Widowmaker knew that the Spider would eventually catch the fly. It was the inevitability of nature. And on that day she would crush the remains of that fly under the heal of her boot.

The sound of a deep rasping voice echoed from behind her. "Get up Widowmaker, we have a job to do."

Reaper appeared at her door, like the creepy dark spectre he was. Never a man with any sense of subtlety or taste, his shadowy visage since his apparent death had done nothing to improve his look, or his demeanour. As Widowmaker turned round, she saw Sombra also stood beside him, the latest nuisance to be endured.

"Snipers lack the nuance I prefer, I have some ideas..." Sombra started arrogantly.

"I would expect no less from an amateur," Widowmaker replied with her usual sense of disdain, being sure to interrupt Sombra with a cold harsh look. "What is the job?" she asked.

"We are going to capture Winston. That monkey has made his last scientific advancement for Overwatch," Reaper said, laughing maniacally. That brought a smile to Widowmaker's face. She knew it had always annoyed Reaper that he was constantly outsmarted by the primate. It gave her some vague sense of amusement.

"Then why not kill him?" she asked.

Reaper's tone showed some disappointment at the mission. "Some members of Talon feel he could be useful. Anyone else you can kill, but him we must capture. You have your orders, get ready to move out."

Widowmaker smirked in response. If Winston was there, Tracer would follow. Another chance for the perfect kill and the perfect thrill. No memory could stand in her way. Widowmaker tore up the photograph now clutched tightly in her hand and dropped it in the trash. Getting up, she readied herself for the mission and the chance at topping even her finest kill.