Merde
Yet another compromised mission. Talon had begrudgingly accepted their past failures, yet their mercy was not bottomless.
Slowly, Widowmaker pulled her eye from her scope, lifting Widow's Kiss from its stand and placing the sniper beside her. Resting on her haunches she looked out on the expansive warehouses that lay underneath her perch, shrouded in a flurry of snowflakes, her mind reliving each and every moment of the defeat.
The briefing was simple. Eliminate Katya Volskya and leave. Their plans were clear and concise, one bullet being all that was necessary to finish the job. Sombra and Reaper were to carve a path for Widowmaker to take the shot, the Mexican bypassing all security and blockades, and the wraith dealing with any unknown threats that they may have encountered.
Yet something had went wrong. Alarms blared as Katya was inches away from meeting her demise to Widow's Kiss, an incredibly fortunate outcome for her. Reaper, who was then occupied by a Volskyan mech and was left to fight injured, passed the mantle on to their resident hacker to finish the job. And she had blown it. But not for her ulterior designs.
Both Widowmaker and Sombra had completed their objectives:
Ruining Talon's.
Widowmaker gazed at the compound, the alarms still blaring while men scattered in an attempt to find the perpetrators, the heavy blizzard keeping the sniper safe from their vision. Her eyes were far superior to mere unaltered humans, and, like looking through a one way mirror, she could see them clearly, yet they would have no notion of her presence.
"Get back to the ship" a gravely voice growled through her earpiece, Reaper obviously inconsolably enraged. It was not often he showed such intense ire, his expressed emotions now causing Widowmaker's mind to drift to the possible ramifications of their failure.
Lifting her sniper, Widowmaker rose from her position, turning on her heel after one last look at her recent battleground and jogged towards Talon's ship which was landed nearly one clique away from her post.
Usually, Widowmaker bitterly despised a mission that was not able to be completed, her body not able to quench the urge she had to murder. Yet now, her mind could only think of the possible vile punishments from her oppressive faction, and how it would affect her as a person.
As a person.
Widowmaker wasn't a person, was she? Only one girl called her that. That insufferable, overly effusive-
"Right luv!"
- British girl.
The edges of Widowmaker's lips turned up into a slight smile as she ground to a halt. Light blue flashed across her peripheral vision and eventually subsided into the sight of a small British Overwatch agent, clad in her staple bomber jacket and orange leggings which bore her insignia.
"Chérie. A pleasant surprise to see you here" Widow greeted formally. "Yet I have expected you for quite some time. Those alarms were quite loud. Perhaps a bit late, hm"?
"Yeah, you too an' all that. Jesus it's bloody freezing" she replied, furiously rubbing her arms in a vain attempt to get her blood running.
"Is that a hint?" Widowmaker asked slyly, outstretching her arms towards the girl who's eyes lit up at the welcoming action.
Blinking into Widowmaker's embrace, Tracer wrapped her slim arms around the assassin, humming with content. Widowmaker slowly lowered her head until her cheek rested against the brown forest of hair, Tracer's hair lightly tickling her nose.
After allowing herself a brief moment of bliss, the logical side of Widowmaker's mind took over, realising that they had little time left together.
"How long?" she mumbled still embracing the smaller girl, every fibre of her body wishing to stay like this forever.
"Around 20 minutes. I had to beg to go ahead to 'scout'. I still think Angela suspects something's up with me though."
"In the way of 'I'm seeing the enemy sniper'?"
A small chuckle escaped both of the girls mouths, their breath creating wispy clouds in the frigid air.
"Blimey, who'd think that?" she joked, the taller woman still lightly chuckling.
Freezing winds continued their assault the woman's faces, Tracer's teeth harshly chattering.
"Y-y-you still don't feel the cold, d'ya?" Tracer remarked after a few silent moments.
"Non Chérie" Widow replied airily. "Hopefully I will soon though."
This sparked Tracer off.
"What's stopping us from just runnin' now luv? Can't we just get away?" This wasn't the first time Tracer had pressed this line of conversation.
Widow sighed at the girl's attempt.
"You know this Chérie. We need time, and you must be patient. I want this more than you can imagine." Widowmaker gently caressed the smaller girls cheek, lightly rubbing her thumb against Tracer's chapped lips. "We only have one chance. Best to make it count, non?"
She could hear Tracer's grumble of resignation, yet she knew she was right. One false step; one hastily decision, and it was game over.
"Still, I just..." Lena sighed. "I want this to be done. I want to see you more"
"Moi aussi"
The illicit couple slowly detached from each other, making their way over to a nearby wall and resting there in each other's embrace. Widowmaker knew that Talon's forces would be met soon, meaning she did not have to rush back to the ship.
"Lena, where the hell are you?!" Tracer's earpiece boomed, the voice of Commander Morrison ringing through the Brit's skull. She could make out explosions in the background. Looks like the game had started.
Glancing over at Widowmaker, Tracer drew her pulse guns from her gauntlets, firing them up into the air, hoping that the comms could pick up the gunfire.
"I'm dealing with Widowmaker! Can't help ya!" She yelled as realistically as possible, something she had gotten quite good at over time.
Apparently the assassin didn't think it was good enough.
She plunged her fist into the smaller girl's stomach with all her might, causing the Brit to cry out in pain.
"Lena?! You all good?!" her earpiece boomed.
"Guhhhh" Lena moaned, her body doubling over, the blue assassin tenderly rubbing her back. "Lucky shot. Tracer out"
Ripping her earpiece out, Tracer lashed her head around to her partner, ready to verbally kill her.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FU-"
Tracer's body once again doubled over, coughing until her throat was bloodied, Widowmaker gently parting her on the back.
"It just wasn't convincing enough Chérie," she mumbled.
"Just..." Tracer panted, "just you fuckin' wait til Reaper calls ya"
Grabbing Tracer's shoulder, she guided the Brit towards her, her head meeting a cool shoulder. All her anger seemed to evaporate at the touch of her lover.
"Still gonna kill you someday" she muttered, attempting to keep a firm hold of some sort of irritation.
Widowmaker chuckled, tightly embracing the smaller girl.
"Shush now Chérie," she cooed, tilting her head til golden eyes met amber.
Then their lips met.