(( Hey ya'll! I got chapter 2 finished and chapter 3 is already half done so hopefully you enjoy! :) ))
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The Death of Amélie
...
It had been approximately a week since the Volskaya incident. Widowmaker reached up and tied her long dark hair into its usual ponytail and gave it a good tug to secure it. She opened her eyes and focused into the mirror infront of her for a moment ,studying her severe features. Her intimidating frown, her bluish-purple skin, her piercing yellow eyes.
She vaguely remembered the day she'd first realized how much she had changed over the years since being taken in by Talon. She didn't remember much from before that. It was like a very long blur. The only thing she remembered for sure was the comfort ballet gave her. Even that was the barest traces of feelings she had anymore.
Dismissing these thoughts, she finished pulling up her suit, closing it at the back of her neck and made sure to place the bit of armor she always wore on the back of her neck in it's position before walking to the opposing wall to get her gun and the required ammunition.
"Widow, you ready?" came the gruff voice of Reaper.
Turning to regard him cooly she nodded once before stepping past him and continuing down the narrow hall. They came to the Talon base hangar, the two approaching a smaller air craft that was designed to move quicker when required than the one they normally used.
"Sombra won't be joining us?" Widowmaker asked, climbing the steps into the vessel.
"No. She's been assigned on another mission for the time being," Reaper responded.
"I see..." she commented, taking a seat and watching calmly as Reaper sat opposite her.
"It's no concern of yours, Widowmaker. Besides, this mission seemed to be more your interest."
There was the barest trace of a twitch that registered in her face as she went over the assignment details in her head from earlier.
Lena "Tracer" Oxton was their target. Talon had suspicions that Overwatch was secretly recalling their agents into active duty and there was no doubt Tracer was one of them. She'd sucessfully distracted them from obtaining their first target, the gauntlet, and then nearly cost Widowmaker her own mission in King's Row; assasinating Mondatta.
Agent Tracer posed no real threat to Talon, but she'd gotten under Widowmaker's skin and after deliberation, those in charge at Talon had agreed she should be eliminated.
Widowmaker had agreed to take the mission almost immediately.
It was one more irritation she would be able to rid herself of finally.
Glancing towards the front of the air craft, she thought of how long it would take them to reach London. For a brief moment she felt exhilerated at what would soon be another kill.
...
"Zaryanova! Вы здесь?" came a deep male voice from the doorway.
There was the sound of a tool being put back into a kit and a shock of pink hair emerged from behind the enormous particle cannon.
"Да, что?" asked the strong woman, looking across the top of her cannon's main body at the muscularly built man framing the entrance to her workshop.
"Vasily wants to speak with you," he said in a thick Russian accent, his eyes roving over the massive weapon infront of the woman. He wasn't doing a good job of hiding his interest in how it worked. He was impressed Zarya had such a firm understanding of the inner workings.
"Alright, I'll be there in a minute," she said, grabbing a rag and wiped off her hands, standing from her work stool and moved to put her tools away.
About two minutes later, Zarya entered into the office of her commanding officer. Coming to stand a few feet before his desk she raised a brow. "You asked for me?"
"Да," came the response. A man in his late forties sat behind the large desk, his brow set in a deep frown, his dark hair brushed back very carefully to add to his harsh exterior appearance. He finished singing a form and then looked up at Zarya, smiling at her after a moment before standing. "I have news that may come of interest to you. It is concerning the two suspects from a week ago at Volskaya Industries."
Zarya raised a brow. "We have learned their identities?"
"Not quite. An aquaintance of mine has provided me with some documentation regarding those who attacked us. I thought you would like to review the files when you have some time, studying the enemy as best you can so if they strike again, they will have zero chance of escape," he said, turning to get something from his desk and turned back to Zarya, holding out a folder in her direction.
Zarya took it and with a slight frown, opened it and sheafed through some of the papers before letting it close. Looking at Vasily, she nodded firmly. "Thank you."
The braod shouldered officer moved behind his desk and leaned both hands, palms flat on the top, sighing. "You've been promoted. You and three others have been selected to find out what you can on these people and eliminate them as soon as possible. We have reasons to suspect they pose a much greater threat than we originally thought..."
Zarya's brows moved up in surprise. "Sir..?"
"We gave it much thought. You're one of our finest fighters and I know you have the brains to match the braun. If anyone can do this, I know you can, Zarya. I have faith," he smirked across the table confidently.
Zarya clutched the folder in her hands and then smirked, nodding back. "большое спасибо," she said gratefully before leaving the office once dismissed.
...
One arm hung over the arm of the sofa while a newspaper lay spread out in the lap of a young woman who seemed to be dressed comfortably in a white t shirt and grey leggings that evening.
Lena Oxton reclined in her girlfriend's apartment comfortably, a slight wrinkle between her brows the only indication of her distress as she continued reading up on an article about the events that were still under investigation in Russia. Her group had been closely researching any activity that may potentially inform them of the wherabouts and goals of Talon. It had been a week without incident yet, which concerned them. What exactly where they plotting next, she wondered?
She reached out with her free hand without taking her eyes off the paper for her coffee when suddenly the world went dark. She grinned, her hand pausing mid air.
"You've been reading that paper for hours now... I don't think you could possibly glean any more information from it that you haven't already," her girlfriend, Emily, murmured into her ear.
With a sigh, Lena moved to rest her hand over Emily's, pulling one hand back and tilted her head to look up at her. "I know, I know... I'm sorry, love. This one just really hits close to home," she said, her hand sliding down Emily's hand, to her wrist and to finally stroke her arm affectionately.
"You work too hard," Emily said, shaking her head with a small grin. "You deserve a break," she said.
"Mmm..." she shifted her position so she could rest her head on the arm rest and look up at Emily more easily. "Any time I get to spend with you is a wonderful break, even if it's only for a few hours though," she told her.
Emily snorted. "Ugh, please don't get all soppy on me," she laughed, the two giggling before Emily leaned down and the two kissed gently. "I still love you, though..." she murmured, grinning when Lena made some noise of approval as their lips locked again.
...
Widowmaker stood in the empty room of a new building that was still in the process of being finished, located minutes from the heart of London. She looked out the window calmly, taking in the multitude of bright lights in the city, though was also plotting her best course of hitting her target without being seen. Get in and get out, fast.
Reaper watcher her silently from a few feet away, having only come to back her up should the mission in some way backfire. He had a feeling it wouldn't. His thoughts were not solely on the mission though. At least not in that moment.
He was thinking about how much Widowmaker had changed over the years. How much she had changed since the time she'd only been Amélie Lacroix.
He hadn't felt much concern for her when she was first kidnapped. He'd barely known Gerard. They'd never directly worked together on any assignment or really spoken from what he could remember. To Talon, Amélie was a perfect resource. The perfect route for them to take out their target.
Initially, he hadn't even thought it worked. They'd wiped certain events entirely from her mind and reconditioned her to their liking. When Overwatch operatives had shown up near their base in France, they had deliberately left her to be found, none the worse for wear. She hadn't even physically been harmed.
Nothing had happened at first, but he remembered recieving word that Gerard Lacroix was pronounced dead, brutally murdered in his sleep by his wife, Amélie, who had been reported as missing.
He smirked, remembering the day she had returned, her face as calm as ever, and was subjected to a complete neural reconditioning not long after.
He could remember it like it was yesterday, the day Amélie Lacroix died, and Widowmaker was born. It was the same day Overwatch truly began to fall to its knees.
...
She'd been under for days now, unmoving and unresponsive. She had been placed into an induced coma for a week as her body underwent the necessary process to eradicate all memory of her former life and change her into the perfect weapon Talon desired. She'd been suspended in the cryochamber the entire time, the only sign of life remaining being the dangerously slow heart rate.
To the naked eye, she appeared to have died. Her hair had darkened and her skin had taken on an unhealthy hue of blue in the week she'd been locked in there.
Talon scientists had claimed there was no absolute guarantee it would work for certain. It was all a theory. She was the first test subject to such extreme reconditioning. They pulled her chryochamber from suspension at last that week, wheeling it into the main lab facilities and set up the necessary monitors to her weak heart rate and shallow breaths as well as connected monitors along her temples to monitor her brain activity should she awaken.
There was an air of tension in the lab that night though there was also a sense of disconnect. This was no longer simply Amélie. She was the first test in many to come, having agreed after working for them for some time. The first wave of brain washing they had forced her to undergo upon her first kidnap had altered her memories severely, though not entirely. She still had some semblance of humanity to her, and even showed remorse for the murder of her husband by own hands, going so far as to vomit the first time the memory truly resurfaced. This experiment would utterly change that.
The lab was dark save for the fluorescent lights overhead and the monitors now all lit up and displaying the live feed information.
Reaper entered the adjoining room which overlooked the lab below, watching from behind a one way mirror as five scientists hovered around the monitors, one draining half of the chryochambers fluid to a required level while the woman inside, clothed only in what was some sort of medical grade under garments remained half suspended.
Once the fluid had drained appropriately, one of the female scientists came over and removed the oxygen mask from the subjects face, carefully removing it from the tangle of dark hair without much trouble and placed it on a nearby steel tray.
"Pulse," muttered the male, no doubt, the doctor on site. He appeared to be monitoring everyone else closely. It was undoubtedly his knowledge that had spearheaded this specific test. His expression showed that much, with how his brows knitted together in anticipation.
The other male in the lab gave the pulse diagnostics, frowning at how low they were reading. He turned to look at the head doctor. "Are you sure this will work?"
The doctor nodded, focusing his attention on the woman inside, watching for any signs as he began to initiate commands to his team, beginning with sending electric signals to their test subject in order to awaken her.
Reaper and a few heads of Talon stood by quietly, watching as commands were issued, vitals read outloud at intervals.
It had seemed the tests were being unresponsive. They'd pushed Amélie beyond her physical limits. Though after a minute or two of regular pulse signals being directed to the chryochamber there were signs of her finally responding. The pulse monitor had begun to quicken a little to the barest minimum required to sustain life, followed by her breathing beginning to deepen. Her left hand was what moved first, as though her body was at last managing to send signals from the brain to everywhere else so as to function.
Slowly by surely, she shifted in the chamber and sat up finally. Her eyes remained shut until she stood slowly, ignoring the woman who offered a hand to help.
The doctor waved everyone off, his eyes wide as he watched the woman stand, slowly rising up from the horizontal chamber.
Her head was bowed low at first until she slowly took a deeper breath, exhaling slowly as she tilted her head back and slightly to the right, opening her eyes to look directly at the doctor.
The eyes of a killer were what were reflected there.
The image of the woman, soaked and blue, hair hanging over part of her face and a pair of glowing yellow eyes was an image that was permanently seared into Reaper's memories. In that moment when he'd watched her arise for the first time, he knew she was a perfect weapon. She lived only to kill.
That night, Widowmaker was born into being, and Amélie ceased to exist.
...
As Reaper replayed these chilling memories in his head, Widowmaker climbed up onto the windowsill, glancing back momentarily at Reaper who merely nodded once. She nodded back, the two communicating soundlessly as she wrapped a cable around her ankle, then gracefully let herself maneuver out and down the side of the building, suspended just like she had been in King's Row.
She lowered herself to the required height and made sure to move slow and stay within the shadows of the alley way, too high up for any pedestrians to notice anything.
Using her visor to ensure the location of her target, she opened her gun up to it's sniper form, every muscle in her body coiled and ready to strike. She smirked, the visor pieces moving back to rest above her ears as she looked into the scope of her gun, spotting her target.
"You have interfered for the last time, mon cher."
Her trigger finger squeezed.
"Adieu..." she murmured.
...
Emily smiled at Lena, moving back a bit so she was leaning onto the arm rest of the couch a bit. "Want to go out tonight? We could go to the pub if you wanted?"
Lena grinned. "We haven't done that in a while, have we," she commented, turning her head to look at Emily. She swung her legs over the edge of the couch and reached out to grab her mug of coffee so she could finish it before they left. "That sounds like a gr-"
The window exploded without warning and the cold night air rushed in like a brick wall.
There wasn't even time to scream at first. Or maybe she was screaming and sound had stopped workng for a minute. Emily was only faintly aware of blood splattered up her arm and along the front of her shirt. Where was Lena? She was vaguely aware of someone's hand feebly grasping at the last two fingers of her left hand. Turning her head she looked at Tracer who's expression she couldn't read under all the blood everywhere.
And then it all came rushing fast and she let out a blood curdling scream before Tracer collapsed to the floor.
She grabbed her quickly and hid behind the side of the couch, pulling Lena close to her, shaking uncontrollably.
"Lena! Lena!" she screamed, sobbing. "Lena talk to me!" she pleaded, one arm around her back and the other shaking and hovering over her head, not knowing what to do to stop the bleeding. Why wasn't she speaking? Why wasn't Lena moving? "Please, please Lena, please say something!" she sobbed, her voice cracking as it continued to grow higher in panic.
She didn't know what to do. She was terrified to move incase someone shot again. She cried in fear as the cold wind blew the newspaper all over the apartment, doing nothing to mask her screams while blood pooled under the two women.
...
((Ayyyy! That's it for chapter 2! I'll see you guys reeeeaaally soon with chapter 3 though, I promise! :) ))