"Hello? Did you guys forget I'm down here?" Vasha let out a sigh, crossing her arms. After being brought back to the Overwatch HQ, Vasha had been promptly escorted to a cell, which was where she was currently. There were no clocks that she could see, so Vasha didn't know exactly how long she had been in the cell, but it felt like several hours at least.
A panel on the wall suddenly folded down, and a tray of food slid through. Vasha made a face before she added, "Great, this is much more personal, thank you."
The sound of footsteps caught her attention, and Vasha turned to see Amélie approaching the cell.
"I thought you weren't allowed to talk to me," Vasha said.
"The presence of cameras helps," Amélie said. "Are you ready to talk?"
Vasha shrugged. "Maybe; did you leave your knife behind this time?"
Amélie set her jaw; she had to remain in control. She couldn't have a third incident; just as she had said, there were cameras watching their every move. "Trust me, if I wanted to get at you, this safety glass wouldn't stop me."
Vasha grinned slightly. "You know, I kinda like you."
"The feeling is not mutual."
"Hey, come on, don't take offense. You don't have to be gay to appreciate someone finding you attractive—"
"Many people find me attractive, and you are far from the first woman to express such aloud. While I find female company quite enjoyable under the right circumstances, you are hardly my type."
Vasha clutched at her heart much like a damsel in a period piece. "Oh, she is as deadly as the tales say. Please, spare me, Widowmaker."
The sniper froze at that. "Where did you hear that—"
"At first I wasn't sure why you looked familiar, but now I know who you are. Amélie Lacroix, one of Overwatch's best snipers—"
"Where did you learn this?"
Vasha crossed her arms, giving Amélie a slight smirk.
Oh, how Amélie would love to smack that smirk right off Vasha's face. But no, she needed to remain calm, she needed to stay in control of her actions. "Did you learn of this in Antonio's files? Did he have a file on me?" Antonio was Talon; if he had information on Amélie, then maybe she could find out what exactly Talon had done to her.
"You sound scared; afraid I know a terrible secret about you?"
Amélie hit the safety glass with her open palm. "Do not play games with me! Did he have a file on me or not? Did he know what they did to me?"
Vasha's brow furrowed. "What do you mean; what did they do to you?" The thief's expression softened a bit. "Did Talon do something to you—"
Amélie hated that look, and the tone that always followed. Pity. Pity for her, pity for what she had been through; she couldn't stand it. "Spare me your pity and just answer my question."
Vasha paused a long moment before she nodded. "Yeah… yeah, he had some information on you, mainly just your status as an Overwatch agent." A pause. "Hey, there was another file, some guy named Gerard? He had the same last name as you, but it just said deceased—"
"We are not talking about Gerard," Amélie said sternly. She took a deep breath, regaining her composure. "And I do not use that codename anymore."
"¿Qué pasa, mi pequeño asesino?"
Tracer looked up, her brow furrowing upon seeing the other woman, the one with the purple tipped hair, entering with her normal food tray. Usually Moira brought her food; why was Sombra bringing it this time?
"Oh, don't worry about Doctor Pelirrojo; I made sure she was otherwise occupied," Sombra said upon seeing Tracer's confused expression. The hacker sat in front of Tracer, setting the tray down on the floor between them. "I wanted to talk to you myself. I know you're not much of a talker, but we can still make it work."
Tracer watched the hacker, unsure of what she wanted or what the assassin should do.
Sombra rolled her eyes. "Ay, I'm not going to do anything to you; I'm the one who should be worried anyway."
Tracer paused a few moments longer before she began to eat, though her gaze remained on the hacker.
"That's a little creepy, not going to lie." Sombra watched the brunette as she ate; Tracer seemed to be slowly coming out of the fog that her reprogramming had put her in, and the hacker had to admit that she preferred this Tracer to the mindless killer. "The others won't admit it, but I will: what Antonio did to you… it was messed up, and we should have done more to stop him from taking you."
Tracer paused at that, straightening up slightly. Antonio… the massacre… Her most recent reprogramming had caused those memories to become mostly fuzzy, leaving behind only blurred figures and muffled voices. Tracer wondered if maybe that was for the best; Sombra seemed to sound almost apologetic.
"But you seem to be recovering now," Sombra continued, reaching into the pocket of her jacket.
Tracer froze at that motion, her muscles tensing.
"Easy, I don't have a weapon," Sombra said, noticing her behavior. She withdrew her hand, and Tracer could see that it was a silver rectangle. "So, no hard feelings between us?"
The brunette looked down at the offered object, taking it from Sombra hesitantly. She turned it over in her hands, trying to figure out what it was exactly.
"Pull the wrapper off," the hacker said.
Tracer tore at the silver covering, revealing something brown underneath. She let out a curious noise, still not entirely sure what it was.
"It's a chocolate bar; you eat it," Sombra said, slightly amused by Tracer's behavior.
Tracer took a bite from the bar, the sweet taste immediately foreign but not unwelcome.
"You like it?" Sombra asked.
Tracer nodded, wanting to take another bite, but also wanting to savor it. This wasn't like anything she had been allowed to eat before.
"Sugar, Sombra, really? Do you want her in the air vents?" Moira's voice came sharply over the speaker, startling both young women.
"Ay, it's just one candy bar," the hacker protested.
"Just one is all it takes." Moira shook her head. "And while we're at it, keep your grubby paws off of my research."
Sombra grinned. "I see you found your tablet."
"The vegetable crisper was an inspired choice, I'll give you that."
The hacker laughed before she got to her feet. "Guess I better go before she really gets upset. Glad we could have this talk, Tracer." Sombra waggled her fingers in a sort of goodbye before she translocated from the room.
Tracer stared at the spot where Sombra had been, her chocolate bar still in her hands. The treat was good, and Tracer was loathe to give it up, but Moira's tone hadn't sounded pleased, leaving the assassin torn.
Moira watched the brunette before she let out a sigh and said, "The damage is already done, I suppose. Just finish it."
"She's asking for you again."
Amélie let out a long breath, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Why?"
McCree shook his head. "Don't know; she won't say." The cowboy lit his cigar, and a small cloud of smoke rose into the air. "She just likes you I guess."
"How lucky for me." Amélie let out a sigh; Vasha seemed to know just how badly they wanted this information, and she was certainly milking it for all it was worth. The sniper was more than a little annoyed with the thief, but there was little she could do. "Isn't there anyone else available?"
"Nope; they're all dealing with the Numbani situation."
Amélie's brow furrowed. "What situation?"
"Oh, you didn't hear? Apparently Doomfist broke out of prison."
Amélie recalled that her husband had assisted with Doomfist's incarceration mission, though she knew little about him outside of that. The sniper let out a sigh before she said, "I suppose I have little choice then. Hopefully our thief actually has useful information to give this time."
"I am not in the mood for games today—" Amélie paused upon seeing the serious expression on Vasha's face. "Trying a new tactic, are we?"
"Is it true?"
"I need context."
"Is it true about Doomfist? His escape from prison… his attack on Numbani?"
Amélie crossed her arms. "This is a new tune you are singing; why do you care?"
"Just tell me if it's true."
"Tiens, tiens, how does it feel to be on the other side—"
"Amélie just tell me if it's true so I know if my family is safe!"
So that's what this was about. Amélie hadn't stopped to consider where Vasha was from, or that she was not an Italian native. The sniper considered using this newfound information as leverage to finally get what they were after, but Vasha looked so desperate… Amélie considered how she would feel if their roles were reversed.
They have been; I have been a prisoner too.
"Yes, it is true," Amélie said. "Doomfist escaped from prison early this morning."
Vasha let out an irritated sigh, running her hands through her hair and beginning to pace restlessly. Amélie had never seen her this way, and had begun to give up hope of ever breaking the thief.
"Okay… okay, I'll tell you what you want, but you have to promise to release me," Vasha said, facing the sniper.
Now Amélie held the upper hand. The sniper crossed her arms, not entirely ready to just give Vasha what she wanted. "We'll see what the value of your information is."
"Look, there was nothing of value in the safe—"
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"But I saw what happened to Antonio."
Amélie couldn't hide her surprise at that. "You were there?"
Vasha nodded. "Not in the room, of course, but I was there performing recon… I saw what happened."
That was valuable; they had yet to figure out who had infiltrated the estate, or how they had killed so many. "All right, tell me exactly what you saw. If what you say sounds plausible, then I will take it to my superiors, and they will decide—"
"No, Amélie, I can't wait for your people to sit around deciding whether or not they're going to let me out like this is some sort of parole hearing. I need to go home and check on my family now."
"I don't have the authority to just let you go—"
"Come on Amélie, you of all people should know how this feels, being trapped and helpless!"
The sniper let out a sigh, but even though she was desperate, Vasha still knew which buttons to push. "I'll see what I can do, but you have to give us something."
Vasha nodded. "All right. Here's how it went."
It had taken a few days, but Vasha had managed to infiltrate Antonio's estate. She was sure the Italian businessman had more than a few shady secrets that would be worth a considerable amount; all she had to do now was find the evidence. From where she was perched on the roof, the thief secured her grapple line before she began to rappel down the side of the building, pausing beside the window. Vasha pulled a mirror from her belt, holding it out so that she could see inside.
Antonio was standing in front of his desk, talking to someone that Vasha couldn't see. There was a struggling figure in armor beside him, and Vasha's brow furrowed; it wasn't one of his usual red-capped guards.
The guards undid whatever restraints were on the armored figure, and that was when all hell broke loose. The figure seemed to move at an unnatural speed, and Vasha could see blood spattering onto the walls and windows. Antonio himself was soon brought to the floor, and Vasha watched the red blades tear into him repeatedly.
The figure suddenly turned, their glowing red eyes reflecting in the mirror and startling the thief, causing her to drop it.
"One killer… you're sure?"
Vasha nodded. "I'll admit, I was afraid to go inside… afraid of what that thing would do to me. Some people eventually came, and when they left, it was gone."
"Wait, someone else came to the estate before we showed up?" This was information that Jack would definitely want to hear. "Who?"
"I don't know, I didn't ask for identification."
Amélie gave her a look.
"All I know is that there were three of them, and one was a redhead. They must have known about the safe too because by the time I got to it, there was barely anything of value left. That was where you found me."
Amélie paused a long moment as she considered what Vasha had said. One killer against a dozen armed men… it seemed impossible, and yet, this was the first time Vasha had actually seemed serious. Any hint of mirth and sarcasm was gone.
"So are you going to let me out or what?" Vasha asked as she watched the French woman.
A few more tense moments passed before Amélie said, "Give me proof that what you say is true, something I can take to my superiors, and I'll let you go."
"You can try Jack, but as we said before, she hasn't talked to anyone except Amélie."
"I'd like to see for myself."
The two rounded the corner, only to see Vasha's holding cell was empty.
"I thought you said she was secured—" Jack started.
"She was; I'll have the building put on lockdown, she can't have gotten far—"
"There is no need for that."
Ana and Jack turned at Amélie's voice, seeing the sniper leaning against the wall.
"I released Vasha myself, and put her on a transport back to Numbani," Amélie continued; Ana wasn't sure whether or not her overly calm demeanor should be troubling.
"Would you care to explain why?" the captain asked.
"Because she gave us what we needed." Amélie straightened up, flipping a picture between her fingers and holding it out to Ana. "This is our killer."
When the alarm began to go off, and a flashing red light filled the room, Moira let out an annoyed sigh. She knew perfectly well what that meant; they had sixty seconds to grab what was important and evacuate. The geneticist immediately got to her feet, grabbing her go bag and slipping her tablet inside. She grabbed several books as well, sticking those in her bag. Moira quickly grabbed Tracer's helmet and blades, going over to the assassin's room and opening the door.
"Time to go; stay right next to me and do exactly what I say," Moira said.
Tracer had been pulled from her fitful sleep by the sudden alarm, and she wasn't sure what it or the lights meant. She let out a slightly distressed growl, her muscles tensing and prepared to fight.
"No, stay calm and focus," Moira said, catching the assassin's face. "We have to leave, so listen to me and do as I say. Stay right beside me."
The brunette nodded, and Moira released her, holding her helmet out to her. Tracer took it, and Moira started from the room, the brunette following behind her, though she was still unsure where exactly they were going or why it seemed so important that they leave.
"Good, you managed to get her," Reaper said as they encountered him in the hallway, a bag in his hand.
"Concerned, were you?" Moira asked.
"It would have been rude to leave her in an exploding building."
"I thought you said Overwatch wouldn't find us here," Sombra snapped irritably as she joined the group, looking as though she had been rudely awoken from a nap. She had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a teddy bear tucked under her other arm.
"Perhaps the nearby murders alerted them to our presence," Moira said, not without a hint of bitterness.
"It doesn't matter how they found us; what matters is we get out before they arrive. Now into the transport," Reaper said.
"Another lab gone to waste," Moira spat as they made their way outside and quickly entered the transport. "Sit down," she said, securing Tracer in a seat once the assassin sat.
The transport lifted off the ground, and just as the door was closing, Tracer caught sight of the facility right before it was engulfed in a fiery explosion. She let out a noise of surprise and distress; she had come to associate the facility as a safe place, and now they were leaving, and it was gone.
Moira had been afraid of this type of reaction. It was still rather soon after they had brought Tracer back from the estate, which meant that Tracer had come to see the facility as a sort of "home"; the geneticist had not had time to instill in the assassin that the facility was merely a holding area.
"We're moving to a new facility," Moira said, trying to pull Tracer's attention back towards her. "We can't let Overwatch find us."
Overwatch… that was the same term Sombra had used earlier. Tracer wasn't sure if she was supposed to know what that meant, but something about it seemed familiar. Tracer looked back at the redhead, a questioning look on her face.
"Overwatch is…" Moira wasn't quite sure how to describe them. "An organization of watchdogs that claim to hold themselves to a higher standards of morals."
"Hypocrites," Reaper growled. "If you see any Overwatch agents, kill them."
Moira gave him a look. "That is a matter for a later date," she said sternly before she looked back at Tracer. "Overwatch will try and stop us if we let them catch up, which is why we need to move. I know this change is sudden, but we must learn to adapt. Whatever the situation… we must adapt."
