What was the worth of a soul? Could it be measured in numbers? Those infinite little blips on the computer that people looked at these days. It's been like that for a long time though, she supposed. She just never really noticed it until now. People walked with their heads down, staring at their devices on their wrists and in their hands. Not a care in the world and not a single moment to spare for anyone else.

Everyone was like that. The engineer working on the next piece of technology that could change the future of Russia. A software designer who had cracked the innermost secrets of the world's largest corporation. The soldier preparing for his next mission, leaving his wife all alone at home. The young doctor smiling at a text from a young woman that was too close to her. A scientist glancing at the readings of her chemical experiment.

But perhaps, she should be looking at the omnics. After all, their entire lives flowed in the electric current of their bodies, their minds tracking in numbers and countless blips. They had a soul, at least she thought so. Perhaps not the ones from the omnic crisis, though she hardly remembered them now. Society was … peaceful. To some degree. Well, it would be much more peaceful if she did not exist. But here she was.

What was her soul worth? A soul devoid of any meaning. A soul devoid of emotions and everything that validated one as a living being. Was that all there was to it? No, that couldn't be. She was still alive and she still had desires. Very few and very limited. Each as fleeting as the last. She hardly cared about anything anymore. But sometimes, just a little bit, she felt compelled to do something. Something that she did not need to do. Sometimes, it was something that might get her in more trouble than it's worth.

A visit to the graveyard. An anonymous letter. A small tip-off to the locals of a raid location.

A bouquet of flowers. An embrace. A kiss. A night with an enemy. Was that what her soul wanted? A chance at redemption? Or was it just a desire to feel human? A desire to find where she was and find out where she wanted to be? Or was her soul already lost, her body and mind subconsciously clinging to the last place she could have left it.

Angela. Angela Ziegler. Mercy. An angel with too much mercy for her own good. A merciful woman with too much compassion for a single soul. Was it the brightness of her soul that attracted her? That glow she had seen so many times before. That soft smile and red lipstick that she could vividly remember from a past life.

Had she ever died? No, she doubted it. Amélie lived as a sheltered woman, for the most part. She had never been on the battlefield with her husband. But she has heard the tales. The golden souls that would appear on the battlefield, only to be returned to their body by a pure miracle with Mercy's touch. It was not often, but just once or twice was more than enough to spread such a legend.

But were they gold because of Mercy's touch or because of their value? She fought for the righteous and the weak. Yet at the same time, not everyone who fought alongside her could possibly be so pure. A whole organization stemmed within her ranks, eventually bringing their demise as a whole. Could those souls glow gold as well?

"Can't sleep, Amélie?"

The bundle of blonde hair beside her on the bed stirred, eyes opening to gaze at her. How did she get here? Did she deserve any of this? Did the young woman beside her deserve to suffer like this? She did not bring anything good. She did not have any to return to the young woman. In her mind, it was the most optimal outcome. She had everything to gain and nothing to lose, with only the doctor being in danger of losing everything. She could complete her mission right now. She could be crowned as a hero in Talon.

Now that was an ironic thought. A hero. She was no hero. She was a villain. The worst kind. The kind that would kill her own husband. The kind that had thoughts of killing the woman who had been so kind to her all night. She could not be a hero. Not for Angela. Not for Gerard. Not for Talon. Not for anyone.

But yet, there she was. She knew that she should leave before anything worse could happen. Was that her soul speaking? Speaking on the behalf of the woman that she had once been? The one that had truly cared for the woman beside her?

"I know … that I might not mean much to you anymore. And that, you would sooner forget this than ever … return to the woman that I knew."

No, that was wrong. She knew that she would remember this night for a long time to come. Even if she was sent on another mission to kill this exact same woman and succeeded, she would still remember it. The tender touches. The soft kisses. The warmth. Oh, she was so warm. Was that what it felt like to be human?

"But still … I'm glad you came. For whatever reason it may be, I'm happy. Even if, I'm the only one that felt that way. I truly am thankful."

Amélie focused her gaze on the woman beside her. She had been meeting her eyes of course. She had never broken her gaze from the woman. But now, she really focused her attention on her. She had flaws. She looked so tired. She looked so happy and fulfilled yet so sad and lonely. But beneath it all, there was a glimmer of hope. A bright burning torch that shone through her eyes. Hope for a better future. A soul that worked tirelessly day and night to make it become a reality.

A soul that had not given on hers, even without knowing whether it was gone or not.

Amélie turned on the bed, gazing up at the ceiling once more and she pulled the blanket over her. She had no need for it. She hardly felt it over her bare skin. But, it allowed her to move closer to the woman beside her. To press up against her and hold her close. To see that soft smile on her face as she slid herself into Amélie's form and nest her head against her shoulder.

Perhaps, she was here because she wanted a chance to catch a glimpse at her soul. A lost thing that this woman held so guardedly and tenderly in her heart. Or perhaps, she just wanted the soul that remained inside her to spark in response to Angela's own glow.

In the end, that answer will elude her. Even as she wakes up much too early to disturb the doctor, getting dressed to disappear from the known world once more. Even as she walks back through the doors of the Talon base, preparing to kill the woman and every last member who shared her bright sentiment for the future.

Even then, Amélie will look at the sky, awaiting her time and answer. Because, deep inside her, she knew that one day her time would come. The day when she may find her answer, her soul, and her chance at redemption from the nothing she has become.

But until then, she is simply a maker of widows. A sniper without any fear. One who strikes for the heart despite not understanding her own.

One whose soul balances on the fine thread of a spider web, a web of love, passion, hatred, guilt, hope, and despair. A thread, a balance, and a leash that only Mercy could see. But just one person was enough. Just for her, Amélie would fight on.

Until she finally proves that her soul is worthy of Angela's love.