A/N: I was originally going to post next month, but Retribution (the comic came out, I love Gabriel and Gérard!) and the event has me all sorts of hyped up so enjoy!
The Talon doctor that usually handled Widowmaker sat in a chair across from her, scribbling in his notebook. Widowmaker picked at her fingernails, patiently waiting for the man to proceed. She bit her lip.
Stay calm.
The doctor cleared his throat. "Today won't be a regular physical and psychological checkup, Lacroix. A special guest has arrived to make slight... adjustments."
Widowmaker perked an eyebrow. What was this fool on about?
Two official soldiers walked into the room first. A tall, pale woman swiftly entered the room, gliding across the tile floor. She was wearing a black business suit and clear eyeglasses. Her ginger hair was illuminated by the gloomy lights.
"Moira," Widowmaker murmured, tightly grasping the woman's hand during their handshake. A bitter taste erupted in Widowmaker's mouth. Stay calm.
"How are you feeling, Lacroix?" Moira asked condescendingly, putting on her right glove.
"I don't feel. That's the point, isn't it?" Widowmaker replied, her tone low and dangerous. This caused Moira to pause briefly, eyeing Widowmaker. The two soldiers in the room also glanced at one another.
"It is indeed."
Moira walked around Widowmaker, inspecting her up and down. Widowmaker stood straight up, not daring to move.
"Sit down on that chair," Moira instructed, readjusting her eyeglasses. "Guards, give my patient some privacy and step out of the room."
Widowmaker and the two soldiers obeyed. Moira grabbed Widowmaker's right arm and held it straight outwards, before Moira momentarily prickled a vein. Widowmaker felt a numbing sensation.
"It'll make your metabolism more efficient," Moira said, reading Widow's mind. Widowmaker inwardly let out a sigh of relief.
"Rather impressed by your recent works, Lacroix."
"Just doing what I do best," Widow replied, unsatisfied with herself.
"Doomfist regarded you highly at our last meeting. In fact, the entire council regarded you highly. Which is partly why I decided to pay you a visit," Moira said.
Widowmaker listened to each and every word attentively.
"You have been personally invited to partake in a special mission, directed by Mr. Cain himself."
Now this was unexpected. Widowmaker had only heard of Cain and his involvement with Talon. He was one of the respected directors of Talon, known exclusively for being a staunch, real man.
"It would be an honor to accompany him in a mission," Widowmaker replied, showing interest.
"Oh, it would. You will be traveling to Spain to meet with him, where you two will further discuss the contents of the mission. I can only tell you that London will be receiving a... hefty surprise."
London. Widow thought about Tracer.
"Your vitals are functioning well. A bit of hypertension, but nothing that I can't fix. You are taking all of your prescribed medicine, aren't you?"
"Twice daily."
"I assumed that was the case. Have you had to use the emergency pills the neuropsychologist issued you?"
The red pills. The pills that didn't work on Widowmaker.
"Non," Widowmaker said.
Moira squinted her eyes faintly. "As expected. You've made great progress since I first altered you all those years ago. And you're only going to function better, I can assure you that. You easily remain as one of my finest genetic experiments. Be proud of that."
Experiment. That was all Widowmaker was to Moira.
"When shall I receive the information for the mission?" Widowmaker pressed, eager to leave the demented woman's presence.
"I will have the instructions delivered to your compartment in several weeks, along with medicine to relieve your hypertension."
Moira grabbed her clipboard. "When was your last mental reset?"
"Three months ago."
Moira held Widowmaker's chin up and studied her eyes. Her lying eyes. Widowmaker was a master of masking everything behind them.
"That'll be all. You may leave now."
That was it? No brain imaging? No further questions? No more prodding?
"Very well," Widowmaker replied curtly.
"One more thing, Lacroix."
Widowmaker paused in the doorway, turning her head towards Moira's general direction.
"Keep your eye on Cain. He tends to stick his nose in places it doesn't belong."
Tracer sat alone in a coffee shop, stirring her cup of goodness with a silver spoon. It was approximately 4 in the morning. Weeks had passed since her last conversation with Emily. She hadn't received a single text, a single indication from Emily about how their relationship stood. Yet, she kept dialing Emily.
Lena was beginning to get hit with frustration. She was fed up for trying and getting nowhere as a result of it. Fine. If Emily didn't want Lena to try, she wouldn't.
Lena plugged in the flash drive she wasn't supposed to look at for the umpteenth time, revisiting the page about Widowmaker, as if new information on Widowmaker would just magically appear on the page.
Tracer's phone beeped. A text message appeared from an unknown number.
Rendezvous at w.p. tomorrow. 8 am sharp. -JM
Jack Morrison. Tracer still couldn't shake the thought of him suddenly turning up from the grave, as if he didn't already put her in emotional distress. Tracer had truly mourned Morrison when he was announced deceased at Zurich. Now that he was alive, he spearheaded covert operations with former agents until Overwatch could officially be recognized as a legal organization. Which may never happen. Lena hadn't had a real mission in forever. She was rather excited to go back on the chase. She didn't want to operate illegally, yet no other organizations were willing to combat terrorism and violence quite like Overwatch. Tracer couldn't just twiddle her thumbs and let the world around her fall apart. No, she would rather risk it all for the sake of humans and omnics. Besides, work kept her mind off of things.
Everything about the text message was puzzling. At Watchpoint Gibraltar? Was it going to be the new base of operations? There was only one way to find out.
To her pleasant surprise, Lena wasn't the only one at the watchpoint.
"Looking good, Jesse," Tracer remarked, noting the new haircut he sported.
"Nice to see you too," McCree replied, opening his arms wide when Tracer shot in for a hug. "Got a cigarette by any chance?"
"Mmhmm. And a lighter if ya need one," Tracer said, reaching in her bag for the items. "I thought you were in the United States. Ya know, doing some shady shit with a gang of cowboys."
"Figured I could help Morrison this time around."
"How did you travel out of America freely? Aren't you internationally blacklisted?"
"Bribery and lots of whiskey. Nah, Morrison snuck me out. He has a way of doing things, that's for sure. Especially considering he's still legally dead."
"Where is Morrison?"
"In the laboratory with Winston," McCree said, smiling as he puffed his cigarette. Tracer was well aware that Winston was operating at Watchpoint Gibraltar. At the end of every month, she traveled to Gibraltar in order for him to check up on her chronal accelerator.
"Winston's not accompanying us on this mission," McCree continued. "It'll be just you, me, and the old fart."
"What the hell are you two talking about?" former Commander Jack Morrison said, slyly coming up from behind the pair.
"Um, just small talk with the time traveler. You know, the usual... stuff," McCree stuttered, adjusting his hat. Tracer covered her mouth and smiled.
"Hm," Jack vocalized. "Thank you fellow comrades for showing up on such short notice."
Soldier 76 proceeded to take out a blueprint of a facility from his back pocket, spreading it over the solitary table in the room. Tracer and McCree gave each other a puzzling look, before circling around the table.
"I just got recent intel on a Talon operation undergoing in King's Row. Supposedly, they're going to launch a new God Program. It doesn't look too good. It's likely going to overpower most artificial intelligence in the city and turn Omnic police forces against humans throughout London."
A God Program is a powerful A.I. that started the first Omnic Crisis. It is capable of manipulating machinery and omnics, turning them against mankind. Launching a new one, especially in the already tense London, would be beyond catastrophic.
"Well, then. What are we supposed to do about it?" McCree interrupted.
"I'm getting there, Agent McCree," Jack said, his patience being tested. "I've located the site of the God Program, where it will be activated. The facility is located in the abandoned city of Algeciras, Spain. Not too far from here."
Morrison pointed to a specific room. "You two will sneak into the facility. Agent Oxton will plant a bomb in this main room while McCree will plant two on the opposite end of the building and trigger it- once you two are safely out, that is."
Morrison cleared his throat. "There will be Talon operatives on the lookout for any intruders and signs of danger. I hope you two masters of stealth are prepared, because if any of you are spot, we're done for."
"There isn't another way to safely deactivate the program?" Tracer asked. Even though Talon was composed of terrorists, she avoided compromising lives as much as possible. An explosion would surely kill all of the people in the facility.
"I'm not a big fan of this plan either. Blowing up the damn place is extreme, yet it is the only way we can know for sure that the program won't activate. This is a case of sacrificing the few for the many, Agent Oxton."
Lena didn't want to admit that Morrison was right.
"And security cameras?" McCree pondered.
"I guess we'll find out."
"Why can't we get the damn UN to handle this?" McCree asked. "If we alerted the authorities, more-"
"There is word going around that Talon is working with some members of the UN. Corrupt bastards. We can't risk Talon knowing that there is intel on their operation."
Tracer glossed over the contents of the map and tightly grasped her pistols. This could mean death, this could mean all or nothing. This feeling. She missed it, albeit reluctantly.
"When do we start?"
"We've successfully located the base. The entire facility is crowded with soldiers. I don't see any immediate entrances or openings," Tracer said over the com, eyeing the huge beige facility from 100 yards away. The facility appeared to be an old warehouse, and it was on the edge of the sea. Smoke was spewing out of large cylindrical chimneys. Crumbling buildings and vacant ships cluttered the area, creating an eerie post apocalyptic environment. The entire city had been evacuated when a nuclear crisis struck the area years ago. It was now a remnant of the old world, a reminder of better days.
Tracer and McCree went around the facility, searching for the side latch Morrison pointed out on the map. As expected, two soldiers occupied the front of it, handling large machine guns. They wore black uniforms, heavily cladded boots, and shoulder pads with the letter T engraved in them. McCree and Tracer were hiding behind a wall, waiting for the opportunity to get rid of the soldiers.
"Target A found," Lena whispered. "Proceeding with caution. Standby." She faced McCree. "How are we going to get past them?"
McCree suicidally rolled on the side of the two large men, stunning them temporarily with his flash bang. The soldiers dropped their guns on the floor, clattering loudly. Tracer took the opportunity to knock one out with the side of her pistol, whereas McCree went behind the other one and choked him out. The sound of the man gasping for air caused Tracer to wince.
"Like that."
Tracer kept a lookout on their surroundings as McCree searched the soldiers for an ID card. "We've successfully entered the facility. No signs of soldiers in the area, just as you predicted."
"Excellent work," Morrison's husky voice said on the other end of the intercom.
The plan was for McCree and Tracer to split up and place their bombs in the designated areas before anyone took notice of their presence.
"There aren't any security cameras inside the facility," Tracer whispered, grasping her pistol that was holstered on her waist.
"Looks like Talon values their privacy," Soldier 76 vocalized. "Immediately proceed to Targets B and C."
"See ya on the other side, Jesse!" Tracer said rather loudly.
"I will if you raise your voice again," McCree remarked, rolling his eyes.
Widowmaker ducked underneath the door, standing in a control room with a single dim hanging light. It was stuffy in the facility, much to her distaste. Widow heard footsteps approach her from behind.
"Ms. Lacroix. I've been expecting you."
"Director," Widowmaker said, taking in all of Cain. He was a man in his late forties, and he still retained his muscular and broad features. He sported slick, black hair. He was almost a foot taller than the assassin. Widowmaker could tell that he was devilishly attractive when he was younger. His outward mannerism and appearance contradicted his nightmarish dark grey eyes, as they stared into Amélie's soul with malicious intent and grave satisfaction. Widowmaker took an immediate disliking to him.
"Well, well. Aren't you a beaut?" Cain commented, staring Widowmaker up and down.
She crossed her arms, unsure if she should be bothered by the gesture. "All soldiers have been commanded to secure the perimeter."
"Perfect," Cain's said, his voice echoing throughout the the room. "You know, I absolutely admired your work in King's Row. Bystanders of the incident said you headshot the dirty omnic midair?"
"That is correct."
"Impressive. Impressive indeed."
Cain ran his fingers over a control panel, looking down at the floor.
"Agent Lacroix," a frill female said through Widow's earpiece. "Please head to the main corridor. Standby for further instructions."
"If you excuse me-" Widowmaker began to say, already halfway out the door.
"Hold that order," Cain barked, cupping his earpiece and turning it off.
Widowmaker, puzzled, stared at the man behind her.
Cain walked over to Widow, slowly grabbing onto her shoulders and pinning her to the wall.
She could only freeze up as Cain leaned his face in, roughly pressing his mouth against her delicate lips. Cain held Widowmaker's head now, tilting it up slightly. Widow was absolutely appalled.
"Get the fuck off of me," Widowmaker commanded. She regained her strength and shoved the man off of her, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
A hard slap to the face and a kick to the knee was what she got in return, causing her to wince in pain. Widowmaker felt heat rise within herself. Cain was pissed. He slammed Widowmaker on the floor, pinning her arms above her head. Widow blankly stared back, as if she were completely unfazed. Quite the contrary was the case. Widowmaker was scared shitless. She didn't dare reach for her rifle bag, posted against the wall a few feet away from her.
"You like being abused, don't you?" Cain hissed, placing his mouth near Widowmaker's ear and his free hand on her waist. "You're just our little lab rat. Nothing more, everything less."
Those grey eyes. Amélie was reliving her nightmare, reliving the feeling of hopelessness. She could only see Gérard on top of her, violating her body as if she were nothing but a porcelain doll. She was completely petrified, taking the abuse.
"Nothing to say, Lacroix? Just letting me have my way with you? That's a good girl."
Tracer heard the entire interaction from the outside of the control room as she hid behind the door, completely disturbed with the entire situation. Fucking pervert. Nobody deserves to get treated like that. Nobody. She dashed forward and football tackled Cain, who only grunted in response. His head hit the side of the wall before he collapsed to the ground. If Tracer's suspicions weren't confirmed before, they were now.
Widowmaker still lied on the floor, unmoving. Her golden eyes were wide open, and her arms were crossed above her head.
"Shit," Tracer mumbled, kneeling beside the assassin.
"Lena?" McCree's voice from the com said, startling Lena. "I've placed the bombs at Target C. Safely exited the building. Waiting for you."
"I'm in a bit of a situation, McCree."
"Is everything alright?" Tracer could hear the worry betray McCree's calm demeanor.
"Yeah, I'm fine. Hey, head to the meeting point without me. I'll detonate the bombs when I'm ready, which will be soon."
"I'm not leaving without you."
"Jesse," Tracer pleaded, still kneeling beside Widowmaker. "I'll be there before you know it, I promise."
"Fine," McCree said hesitantly. "Be careful, Lena."
Widow slowly began to sit up as Tracer placed an almost unnoticeable bomb in the corner of the room. Widow drew in a deep breath and shuddered as her eyes scanned Cain's body.
"Tracer?" Widowmaker said, startling Lena. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"
"I'm getting us the hell out of here. I'm going to detonate the bombs after we are safely away from the perimeter."
"And you think I'll just allow you to blow up the facility and mess with our operation?"
"I'm afraid Talon hasn't given me much of a choice. Do you realize how many lives are at stake?"
Lives have always been dispensable for Widowmaker. It was the cruel reality in which she lived in. "Nobody gives a damn about me. Why should I give a damn about everyone else?"
"That's not my way of perceiving things, love. Widow, now is your chance to leave this. All of this. Come with me, and everything will be okay."
"Lena, I... I can't. I want to believe you, I do."
The faint sound of voices down the corridor almost made Tracer faint. She was rapidly running out of options. "Either you and I leave together or we both die here." Tracer raised the remote that would detonate the bombs. She was going to be apprehended regardless. Once those voices came closer, she would have to make a dire decision.
"Have you lost your mind?!"
"I promise you that-"
Tracer paused mid sentence. She heard the sound of feet scurrying down the hallway. The two women stared at the doorway in horror.
Widowmaker was quick to take action. Lena yelped as Widowmaker, without delay, grabbed the remote in Tracer's hands and pinned her to the wall. Widow dug her knee into Lena's back. "You think you can get away with this, Tracer?"
"What happened?" one of the three Talon soldiers said, cautiously approaching the women with his gun raised.
"Our little friend here decided to conduct a surprise attack on Director Cain. Knocked him out. I'll have her apprehended and taken into custody immediately."
"We'll take care of her from here."
"Non, non. I got it."
The soldier raised his eyebrow. "Agent Widowmaker, are you sure?"
"That's a stern order."
Widowmaker's eyes widened once more in indisputable horror as Cain groaned, getting up from his position on the floor. Shit! Did he hear Widow and Tracer's entire conversation? Widowmaker wasn't about to find out.
In one swift maneuver, Widow spun around and grabbed the soldier's gun. The soldiers had little time to react. One of them shot back, missing the women by a landslide. Widow sprayed bullets in their general direction. Tracer ducked, getting her twin pistols out of their holsters. Widow didn't have time to reload as Cain lunged at her, brutally head butting her. Tracer dashed behind the man, sweeping his legs and shooting him down for good.
"Shit," Tracer said, placing Widowmaker's arm around her neck. Widowmaker was knocked out senseless.
Tracer tightly carried Widow and grabbed Widow's rifle bag before promptly dashing out of the room.
Tracer exited the facility the same way she came out with ease. She didn't bother looking behind her as the facility burned up in flames.