The next morning.Advocate interrogation facility."One, bide your time," Tracer continued, holding one finger up. "Two, keep out of trouble."
"And three?" Widowmaker and Tracer had been guests here for nearly a week. The punishment they'd been through would have broken anyone else. Luckily, two things were on their side: First, they were hardened against the most part of their treatment; second, the guards no longer chained them up in the cell. Despite being known as worst enemies, the pair did get along quite well. Evidently helped by being alone. And having someone to talk to helped anyone remain sane and composed.
"Three," Tracer continued, holding her fingers up in a 'V' toward the cell door, "Never let the bastards grind you down. Jack taught me it. It's got me through some nasty things so far."
"As bad as this?"
"No, not even close. Still, it's pretty handy."
The interrogations had eased up recently. There used to be at least five or six a day, but now it was generally only the once.
"I suppose you've more to lose with this than me, luv." Tracer knew that her aim was simple enough: mislead and aggravate the wankers holding her and Widow until someone showed up. She didn't know anything much on the admin side of Overwatch, despite being a key operative. At worst, she could betray the locations of five safehouses and Gibraltar's access codes if they broke her.
She wasn't much use for intel, but Widowmaker was. She was a lot more clued-up on Talon than many operatives: in places even Reaper- still technically her handler given her designation as a covert agent- was less informed. Access codes, residences of key personnel, logistics depots, Talon-proxy cargoships and their routes across the oceans. The works.
"I suppose." Tracer had mever thought about it whilst dodging appointments with high-calibre bullets, but her former adversary was actually a lot... nicer, than anything she'd imagined. Nicer may not have been the word, but she couldn't put her finger on a better one. Of course the fact that they were unable to avoid each other's company, within these confines, may have been a factor, yet she seemed far less hostile than imagined. Her mind ran over a number of things whilst sat against the wall next to her.
I wonder how this whole thing is gonna affect the pair of us if we get out of here in one piece. I sure as hell will think twice about trying to kill her, I'm not sure she'll return the favour. Her mind focused on the last part of that. Would it hurt to ask
Her thought wasn't able to be acted upon just yet, however, as she heard the clunk of boots in the corridor stop outside their door.
"My turn, I think."
"Bon chance, chére." Widowmaker uttered as the door swung open, and two black-clad figures dragged Tracer out of the cell.
"Has it occurred to you yet that nobody is coming for you? That nobody has even the slightest fucking idea that you're here, and that you're never going to see the light of day again?"
Tracer kept her expression blank. Aggravating this upstart wasn't going to make her life any easier, nor would it get her or Widowmaker out of here any quicker.
He leaned toward her, and insult-slapped her across her left cheek. Cliché, Tracer thought, as he proceeded to do the same going the other way. That's the oldest one in the sodding book.He grabbed her by the chin and spat in her face. She could tell he was a lot more agitated than usual. Perhaps something had gone wrong for these major dickheads?
"Take this piece of shit out of here."
The guards grabbed her from behind, removing her from the interrogation cell.
"Ça fait rapide, chére. You haven't broken, have you?"
Tracer pressed up against her, dropping her head onto her shoulder.
"Nope, just shattered."
"Ah. Am I your pillow, now?"
Tracer nodded meekly, a wry smile on her face.
"They're getting pretty edgy. Reckon somebody's out to find us?"
"Bien sur. Rey-Reaper is not someone who would let me disappear, and I doubt Morrison would let anything happen to you either."
Tracer was about to say something before it struck her like a small avalanche. Did she almost say Reyes? As in... no way."Hold on... did you almost say-"
"Reyes?" Widowmaker paused, noting the look on her companion's face. Apparently, it wasn't common knowledge.
"Oui. The warrior you know as Reaper, the scourge of all who stand against, is also the man you and I once knew as Reyes."
Tracer's mind ached more than it had during any interrogation. So Gabriel was now working for Talon? Well, he and Jack did fall out and cause Switzerland to kinda implode... The second point that struck her was 'you and I.' Several things clicked into place at once. The tattoo on Widowmaker's arm- Cauchemar, nightmare- was the same which Amélie Lacroix, husband of the late Gérard, had sported.
She ran her finger along the lukewarm skin of Widowmaker, tracing the tattoo as she made sense of everything.
"Y...you're..?"
"Oui. Normalement, the treatments I am given by Talon to remain their prized asset prevent the personality of who iI was from surfacing. But now, after this... it's returning. Little by little. I hope this doesn't anger you, or change how we once got along."
Tracer shook her head. "No." She understood that what Talon had done wasn't particularly humane. They had buried Amélie under a number of suppressant drugs, and superseded her with Tracer's nemesis, Widowmaker.
Tracer decided that there was no better time to ask the question that had came into her head before her half-arsed interrogation. She looked up into the eyes of the widow.
"After this is over... if we're unchanged and Talon puts yoy back under again... will we still be enemies? "
Widowmaker paused, trying to put together an answer. There was no way to know whether what had happened here would remain with her, once Talon reconditioned her again.
"Je ne sais pas. When they put me back under, I may remember this, or it may be forced into the back of my mind, like me again." She smiled. "If I remember, then I'll make sure to think twice before I put a bullet in you." She kissed Tracer on the forehead, before the pair fell asleep once again.