Hey, all! With the Anniversary event done and dusted, uploads should return to their regular weekly schedule (provided I don't get too busy with something else in the meantime). The feedback thus far has been immensely helpful in getting me pointed in a better direction for this, and while plans for this specific story are largely set in stone, future installments will be able to take more of the feedback into account (despite this, I don't forsee anymore payload escort recycling in this story beyond a brief moment in this chapter. :p). Thanks again to everyone who's taken the time to give this project of mine a chance.
Now, without further ado, we continue.
Chapter 9: Tangling the Web
"Rise and shine, Amos!" Tracer chirped as she rapped on Amos' door. "We've got a big day today!"
"…I'm coming," came the groggy reply from within the former Talon grunt's room.
Tracer smiled and waited. Given the previous day's events, as well as the fact that she had chosen the crack of dawn as their wake-up time, she wasn't terribly surprised that Amos still sounded like he had been steamrolled. After a few moments of shuffling feet and rustling fabric, however, the door opened to show Tracer exactly how tired he was.
"You okay, love?" she asked, her smile fading when she noticed the dark bags under his eyes. "You look like you barely got a wink of sleep."
"I'll live," Amos mumbled, adjusting his belt and vest before donning his helmet. Tracer's eyes flitted across his uniform.
"You don't need to wear the stuff Talon gave you, you know," she pointed out. "We can find you some new clothes. Then you'll fit right in with us!"
"But…I like this helmet," Amos said meekly. "It makes me feel safe."
"Aw, okay, you can keep the helmet," Tracer sighed, though she couldn't suppress a giggle. "And we'll probably need some time to find something that fits you, anyway. Now, come on! Winston's got a big meeting for us right after breakfast!"
"Ahem," Winston cleared his throat. "Thank you all for coming. As you may have heard, there are some announcements I'd like to make."
The crew of Watchpoint Gibraltar, now including Amos, gathered around a circular table with a holographic globe emitting from the center. Amos sat at the table with the rest, still hiding under his helmet as he tried desperately to copy Sombra's invisibility techniques. Tracer was by his side, occasionally giving him a glance along with her best encouraging smile. Also present were Ana, Genji, and Tina. The cyborg sat quietly with arms folded, glancing over at Tina as the street urchin rather noisily devoured a bag of potato chips.
"Tina," Ana admonished the girl. Tina's response was to stick her tongue out at her elder, proudly displaying a disheveled mess of partially-crushed food. "Ugh! Gracious, child, did no one teach you table manners?"
The girl from Ilios made a garbled noise that sounded something like "whatever" before propping her feet on the table and performing an obscene finger gesture in Ana's direction. Winston cleared his throat again from his place at the centermost area of the table's perimeter.
"As I was saying," Winston sighed, adjusting a stack of papers in his massive hands, "I'd like to start today's meeting by making some announcements. First, uh…I'd like us all to extend a warm welcome to our newest member, Amos."
Amos gulped, feeling many sets of eyes boring into him as he sank into his chair like one would into quicksand.
"Relax, love," Tracer giggled. "You don't have to make a speech or anything."
"Now, uh…I know that there may be some objections to having an ex-Talon soldier in our ranks," Winston continued, "but as I mentioned in Dorado, Tracer and I have worked with Amos before. We can both assure you that he isn't like the rest of Talon's agents. We've seen him place saving lives at the highest possible priority, and that's the kind of thing we need right now."
Most people would probably have felt a surge of pride, even a tiny one, when faced with such praise. At this point in his life, however, Amos could only look at Winston with skepticism and worry. The ape may have been stroking what little ego the ex-Talon agent had for the moment, but how long would that last?
"So, I move that we put aside any preconceived notions we may have about Amos, and try to make him feel like he belongs here with us," Winston declared with a smile. "Now, our next item happens to be our satellite system."
"Ugh, wake me when something worthwhile comes up," Tina grumbled as she curled up in her seat. Ana could only sigh and shake her head, but a small chuckle escaped from beneath Genji's mask. He remembered having an attitude like Tina's.
"For those who, uh, may not be completely up-to-date with events on our end—for one reason or another—I'll try and abridge things for you," Winston continued. "Six years ago, Overwatch was shut down amidst a number of criminal allegations. The Petras Act was passed into law, which made any organized activity by Overwatch operatives illegal."
He paused with a sigh.
"But, I just…I couldn't keep seeing all the suffering in the world and not do something about it," Winston sighed. Amos sat up slightly, sensing something he had in common with the ape. "I considered initiating the recall notice time and time again, but as Athena always reminded me, I would be violating international law. Then, a few months ago, Reaper attacked this base, along with a squad of Talon soldiers."
Ana narrowed her good eye, recognizing the shadowy mercenary's name.
"He had been looking for the names and locations of all former Overwatch operatives, information that happened to be stored here," Winston continued. "I was able to fight him off, but…well, you've seen the effects our battle had on the base. I overcame my doubts that day, and I sent out the recall to all former Overwatch agents…well, uh, the ones who were officially still living, anyway," he added with a quick glance to Ana, who chuckled. "Unfortunately, I've only been able to actually get in touch with a few of the former agents. To get a hold of the others, we need to restore Overwatch's communications network, and to do that…"
He flicked a switch on the table, and the holographic globe vanished. Taking its place was an image of a large device contained within a rocket-like shell.
"…we need to launch this satellite," Winston finished. He looked from each of his friends to the next, then his lips cracked into a fanged smile. "I've dreamed of the day where we would bring our family back together, and start making the world safe again. Today's the day. Let's get that satellite to the launch pad."
It soon became apparent why Winston was unable to launch the satellite on his own. Despite being housed in a hovering craft outside the base, the satellite was quite heavy; so much so, in fact, that it would take multiple individuals of significant strength to move it.
This fact did not deter some people.
"Ugh!" Tracer grunted as she threw the entirety of her slim body into shoving the satellite. It remained stationary. "Someone help me move this thing!"
Tina rolled her eyes and sat down, still munching on her chips. "Nah, you're on your own, Brit."
"Tina, if you plan on staying here and sharing our food, you need to earn your keep," Ana said sternly.
"Then I'll just go home," Tina shrugged. "Problem solved."
Ana sighed and shook her head. "Tina, we're trying to help you—"
"Heard that before, hag," the street urchin interrupted, finishing her bag of chips and reclining on the ground. "Still don't buy it."
As Ana massaged her temples in frustration, Amos took note of where everyone was. Genji had volunteered for sentry duty, scouring the outskirts of the base for potential intruders. That left Amos, Winston, Tracer, Ana, and Tina to move the satellite. Only Amos and Winston, however, seemed able (or at least willing) to help Tracer push, with Ana serving as a secondary lookout.
"All right, ready?" Winston asked as he and Amos took a place beside Tracer. "Heave!"
The trio gave a mighty shove, and their combined efforts managed to slowly move the payload along.
"Ha-ha, great!" Winston laughed. "By the laws of motion, things should get easier from here on out."
"That's nice," Amos grunted quickly, only halfway paying attention to the gorilla's words. There was quite a bit on his mind beyond the application of Newton's laws to payloads.
And, this time, he didn't regret thinking about her.
The shame he once felt when he thought of Widowmaker was gone, replaced by an ache of pure empathy. He knew what it was like to have one's identity buried under the bloodthirsty persona Talon preferred in its agents. But, Amos was just an expendable foot soldier; Widowmaker, as a more valuable operative, had been through worse. He felt his stomach turn at the very idea of the torture Talon put her through, just to retool her into their puppet.
Sombra had put to rest several of his questions about his blue-skinned superior, but so many more questions rose from their ashes. Widowmaker knew about Amos' conditioning, but did she know about her own? Did she care? Why was she so willing to serve Talon, after what they had put her through? Did they suppress her memories, or at least alter them? She still remembered her late husband, at least. Gérard Lacroix was clearly a trigger for her now, something that caused her steady absence of emotion to falter. She obviously missed him; despite her deed—if she even knew she did it—she still loved him.
"Amos?"
Then there was the situation regarding Amos' relationship with Widowmaker. Was it really Widowmaker who had seen potential in him? Or was it Amélie? God, she a pretty name: Amélie Lacroix. It sounded like honey in his ears, and he wanted to roll it over in his mouth. How would it sound in Amélie's French accent, that sweet and sultry voice that perked up his oft-timid heart? It had a bit of rhythm to it, as well. It sounded just—
"Oi, Amos!"
The cockney accent snapped Amos back to reality, and he jumped off the satellite. "Ack! What?!"
Tracer blinked. "Easy, love. You just look distracted, is all."
"…oh," Amos sighed. He went back to pushing the payload.
"Something on your mind?" Tracer asked.
Amos paused. She sounded genuine in her curiosity, not judgmental or biting. Maybe it was worth opening up to her, just a little bit?
"Just…thinking about someone I kind of had to leave behind in Talon," he said after a moment.
Tracer's usual grin spread ear-to-ear. "Oh, yeah, that's right! You had someone special with you, didn't you?"
This was what he got for opening up to people.
"Uh, actually, she's—she's not seeing anyone, least of all me," Amos stuttered.
"You mentioned needing to be in Talon's medical bay when we found you in Dorado," Winston added. "Is she okay?"
"Well—" Amos glanced behind him to ensure that Ana was out of earshot, or at least not listening. The elder sniper was too busy scolding Tina again to notice. Before he could continue, however, Tracer spoke up.
"You want to talk about it somewhere a little more private when we're done here?" she asked. Her typically-chipper tone had phased into something more serious.
Amos sighed again. "I…I don't know. I mean, don't get me wrong, you guys seem nice, but—"
"Hey," Tracer put a hand on his shoulder. "We're here for you, all right? We know you're a great guy, and you deserve support. We want to give you that support."
"Winston?" Genji's voice came through the gorilla's communicator. "We have a visitor. One of Overwatch's old guard."
"Fantastic!" Winston exclaimed. "Give us a few minutes, and we'll greet them."
"Actually, he is already on his way to you," Genji pointed out. "Via rocket charge, in fact."
Amos blinked. "Wait, what?"
Seconds later, a hulking figure clad in knight-like armor roared past the satellite, the rocket engine on his back propelling him forward at an alarming velocity. Then, with an earsplitting clang of steel against steel, the knight slammed headlong into a wall, leaving a sizeable dent.
"Ugh," the massive knight groaned, rubbing his head as he pulled himself out of the wall. "I'll feel that in the morning."
Tracer's eyes lit up. "Reinhardt! You're back!"
"Back, and ready for more!" Reinhardt laughed. "A few bullet wounds won't keep me from the good fight!"
Then he noticed Amos slowly backing away from the satellite.
"TALON!" Reinhardt roared, raising his massive hammer and rushing forth like a mad dog. Amos yelped in terror and scrambled away as fast as his boots would carry him. "COME BACK HERE, COWARD! ARE YOU AFRAID TO FIGHT ME?! ARE YOU CHICKEN?!"
"That's enough, Reinhardt!"
The colossus froze in his tracks at the sound of Ana's scolding. He turned to see her, and once she entered his sights, his hammer slipped out of his hands.
"Ana?" he gasped. He pulled his helmet off, revealing a lion's mane of white hair with matching beard. "How can this be? I thought you were dead…"
Ana sighed. "I'm sorry, Reinhardt. But, after everything that happened…I needed time."
"What happened to you?" Reinhardt asked, his raucous voice growing softer. "And…your eye?"
Amos frowned. "Something tells me we shouldn't be seeing this."
"I agree," Winston nodded. "Why don't you and Tracer head inside? Reinhardt and I can move the satellite ourselves."
"Sure thing, big guy!" Tracer saluted. Amos shrugged and followed her into the base, shrinking his head down as he passed by Reinhardt.
"Yeah, I'm gonna leave, too," Tina grunted as she finally stood up and went inside. "It's sounding like there's a gag fest coming."
Fortunately, Overwatch's elder members were too engaged with one another to notice. Winston found something in an outdoor shed to divert his attention.
"Who did this, Ana?" Reinhardt asked. "Who was it that took you from us?"
She closed her good eye for a moment. "It was Amélie."
"Amélie Lacroix?" Reinhardt balked. "Never!"
"I saw her face, Reinhardt. I know it was her," Ana insisted, her stern tone forcing Reinhardt to back down. "She killed Bayless, Al-farouk, Singh, Tekharta Mondatta…" She paused. "…Gérard…."
"Her own husband? But she loved him!"
"I thought so, too," Ana shook her head. "But no one else could have done it. Maybe she was working with Talon all along. Maybe her marriage to Gérard was just a ploy to get him out of Talon's way. Maybe those times when we thought she had been kidnapped were really just visits home for her." She sighed again. "Whatever she was before, she's dropped the subtlety. She's a pure killer now."
Reinhardt steeled his gaze. "Then we will stop her, and avenge all the wrongs Talon have wrought!"
"Ah, Reinhardt, how little you've changed over the years," Ana chuckled. "A pity I can't say the same for myself. Betrayal from a close friend will do that, I suppose."
Reinhardt's furred lips parted slightly. The pain in Ana's sole remaining eye, her bitter smile, spoke volumes. The weights on her soul had finally brought her down.
"Ana," Reinhardt began, putting one armored hand on her face with a tenderness belying his enormous size. "What happened to the woman I knew? The fierce eagle that protected those she loved with everything she had?"
A hint of sadness slipped into Ana's smile. "I'm afraid she's long gone."
"I don't believe that," Reinhardt shook his head. "There must be a way we can bring her back."
Ana gently removed Reinhardt's hand. "Someday, Reinhardt…but not today."
And with that, the shell of a sniper headed inside, leaving the knight to stare despondently at her departing form.
Tracer led Amos into a small meeting room past the hanger. Amos remembered the room, having passed by it on their tour. It seemed to be designed for planning missions, with a rotating blackboard on one end of the room and rows of chairs facing it. Once they entered the room, Tracer sat Amos down in a chair before bounding into the one nearest to him.
"So!" she said, crossing her legs and slipping her hands into her lap. "You up for a little chat?"
"Uh…I don't know. What about?"
"How about your girlfriend?" Tracer asked with the friendliest smile she could manage.
Amos just sighed, slouching back in his chair. "I'm not getting out of this, am I?"
Tracer's smile finally turned downward, her face turning more serious.
"Amos," she said, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder, "I want you to feel like you can talk to me about anything. I know you feel like a fish out of water here, but it's not going to get any better if you just clam up and keep to yourself."
Her smile quickly returned.
"Besides, I'm lucky enough to have someone to call a girlfriend, too," she continued, taking her hand back into her lap. "If you're interested in relationship advice, I'm more than happy to help."
Amos frowned as he considered his options. Tracer did seem sincere in her desire to be his friend, and there were few who could boast the deeds she was doing for him now. And after seeing her stick up for him to the faces of her seniors, to not give her the benefit of the doubt would inevitably cost him. Besides, maybe she would prove helpful? There was no way he would be able to free Widowmaker from Talon's thrall by himself; help from Overwatch would be immensely welcome.
"All right," he relented. "We can talk."
"Cracking!" Tracer pumped her fist victoriously. "So, tell me all about her! How'd you guys meet?"
"We…met on a mission to Numbani," Amos replied. He suspected he would have to choose his words carefully, at least until he ascertained whether he could trust Tracer with the more sensitive information. She, however, was leaning forward in her chair, eagerly drinking in every detail. "One of those failed Doomfist gauntlet ops—there have been a lot of those, actually."
"Yeah, Winston and I stopped one at the Overwatch museum a while back," Tracer nodded. "The gauntlet got moved to the Numbani Heritage Museum after that, right? And they're still going after it? Talon must really want it badly."
"Yeah, no kidding," Amos rolled his eyes.
"Anyway, back on track!" Tracer interjected. "Did you guys hook up then?"
"Um…no, we, er…haven't actually done anything like that," Amos mumbled, his face starting to heat up under his helmet. "See, the thing is…Talon puts its troops through this conditioning process where they turn you into the perfect soldier. And, uh, just so happens to throw in some bloodlust for the fun of it."
He took a deep breath before continuing.
"My first mission was to Dorado, where my unit stole the LumériCo fusion core that Sombra apparently turned into a Trojan horse the other day," he said. "My conditioning broke around then. But…I'm pretty sure her conditioning is still in effect, so she's more interested in killing and doing Talon's dirty work than, uh…you know…"
"Aww, sorry to hear that," Tracer pouted. "Maybe you can win her over! You got any common ground with her? What's she into?"
Amos could almost feel the egg shells under his feet.
"I, uh…I don't know a whole lot about her, honestly," he admitted. "I know she really likes killing—she tends to say it makes her feel 'alive' or something—but I think that's just the conditioning talki—"
"Wait, wait, hold up a tic!" Tracer raised a hand. She was no longer smiling. "Are we talking about who I think we're talking about?"
The egg shells shattered. "Um…"
"Your girl doesn't happen to be a sniper, does she?" Tracer asked with a suspicious look. "With blue skin?"
Amos' throat ran dry. He swallowed hard. "Uh…well…may…be?"
Tracer's hardening face told him everything he needed to know about the situation.
"Look, it's been great talking, but I really need to—"
"Hold on a sec!" Tracer intercepted him the second he tried to leave the chair, gripping his arm. Her face radiated hatred. "We need to talk about this! Do you actually mean to tell me that you have a thing for Widowmaker, of all people?!"
A terrified lump lodged in Amos' throat. There was no quick exit. Everything was unraveling at the speed of light now.
"Do you have any idea the things she's done?!" Tracer shrieked, clearly unwilling to stop anytime soon. "She's a bloody monster, Amos!"
He instinctively piped up. "She's my friend! Well, I mean—technically I just consider her my friend, but she's been good to m—"
Tracer's hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping them like iron vices. "She's no one's friend, dammit! She's a cold-hearted, murderous, arrogant bitch! She doesn't give any love, and she doesn't deserve any!"
Every word was like a punch in the stomach. His breathing rate picked up. His head shrank down into his shoulders as he inched backwards into a wall.
"I was there when she murdered Mondatta!" Tracer continued railing. "I got her on the ground and asked her why she would do something so god-damned awful! And you know what she did? She laughed! SHE LAUGHED IN MY FACE! People's suffering is funny to her! I could see into her eyes in that moment, and there was nothing in them! They were empty! People don't act like that because someone makes them! They do it because they're awful people! And if we take her down, she'll get what's coming to her!"
Amos said nothing as the final nail was thrust into his coffin. His lips pinched tightly together, sealing off any possible sound. Only the air circulating through his nostrils and Tracer's heavy pants could be heard in the room for what felt like an eternity. Finally, Amos swallowed the lump in his throat.
"I need to go," he whimpered, and before Tracer could say anything, he was out of the room.
He needed to be alone. He needed privacy. He needed safety. He needed a place where no one could make things worse. He ran into Winston on his way to find one.
"Oh, Amos!" the gorilla greeted him. "Reinhardt and I just finished launching the satellite! Did you and Tracer get a chance to—"
"I don't want to talk about it," Amos blurted hurriedly as he brushed past without giving Winston so much as a glance.
There were so few places in the base that someone hadn't gone, or wouldn't go. He needed space. He needed peace. His heart thumped madly as he searched desperately.
Amos went outside. He climbed up to a walkway and discovered an isolated supply closet. He flung the door open and rushed inside, slamming and locking the door behind him.
Finally.
He tore off his helmet, curled up in a ball, and quietly cried. He remained in that closet, barricaded within, until the light of the sun outside faded away and his stomach grumbled for nourishment. He didn't want to leave, even for his own good. He wanted to stay in this closet forever, where no one would yell at him again.
So he stayed there, in a broken heap, and let his tears flow freely in a room as lonely and isolated as he felt.
I imagine there are going to be some questions regarding why I wrote Tracer the way I did in this chapter (especially how, in some of the stories I've read, she is often portrayed as an optimistic and forgiving sort of person who sees the best in everyone). In some of her in-game voice lines, I noticed that she seems to have a bit of a judgmental streak, which comes out when she kills an enemy hero with even the most remote criminal ties. In addition, I'm trying to more-or-less stick to the game's canon, in which Tracer is never particularly happy to see Widow (to the point of saying "that felt good" when killing an enemy Widow).
In some of the reviews I've gotten, a few people have expressed surprise that the stories I've written haven't gotten more reviews or favorites and so on. Honestly, I was expecting to get more hate than I have, considering how volatile I've seen fandoms get when someone doesn't proclaim undying support for only the most popular pairings. This makes me grateful for all the positive feedback and constructive criticism that I've gotten (especially now that I've jinxed it and will get hateful messages any second now. XD). I've always liked trying something different than whatever happens to be popular, and I'm glad that people are enjoying my application of that to this story. Chances are good that I'd have tried to put this out regardless of how many people read it, but the fact that people do enjoy this really motivates me to do more and keep getting better.
Anyway, now that I've tacked an unfittingly happy author's note onto a chapter with a sad ending, I think I'll sign off now. Hope you all enjoy the following chapters!
