Note: Thanks for the reviews everyone, really appreciated! Any opinions(good/bad/neutral) are always welcome, for all chapters. (This is sorta a filler/building chapter, might be boring? I hope its not.)
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Lena was at the church with her garbage bag, she had everything she owned in there. Before the recall she was backpacking, she liked to call herself an adventurer, but in all honesty it was a very spartan life.
Paying her meals with work, walking from shelter to shelter. Sure, she saw some beautiful things in her travels, but she also starved, and the cold often bit deep. By now the money she had been using sparsely was all gone, she had saved about everything she earned the past year, hoping to maybe settle, that hope was gone together with Angela.
And thus she was here, not able to travel, not fit for work, a stomach already rumbling. Her accelerator was still dimly lit, she had borrowed a phone and asked if Winston would be a dear and charge it for her.
To her rejoice he agreed, but he had joined Mei's expedition to the arctic and it would be weeks, possibly a month before he was back. "Don't worry Tracer, the core itself can be in power saving for years, you will not experience phasing out of time" he had said. She knew that.
It felt like she had been sitting there for a few minutes, one hour already? She stood up as a limousine pulled up, the driver stepped out and opened the passenger door and there she was. Talk about grand entry.
She would bet that's about the only thing Widowmaker did in her sparetime, look grand. She seems like the type, always keeping her head high, like some-kind of noble woman. Unless she was giving her that deadly glare, she would lower her chin just for that, yet still painfully intense and determined.
She was dressed in that coat again, presumably hiding the extremely sexual catsuit, now that she came to think of it, maybe this was some kind of fetish Widowmaker had all along. Or maybe talon, just like Overwatch, had perverted leaders that imposed specific uniforms. Tracer was wearing hers currently, but she liked the tig-
Her train of thought was cut short.
A whirling sound in the air and a click, the sound of boots hitting the pavement infront of her. Widowmaker had leaped a good fifty meters in a split second with that grapple, she was highly mobile, unlike her current self.
Tracer used to fight that, they chased each other on roof tops and in buildings, motions so inhumanely fast. Being a normal person, a normal person with a disability, it felt so far off, like it was unreal she once was capable of such feats.
Widowmaker was there, standing tall like a queen infront of an unworthy peasant, her hands tucked into her coat. "You look good Cherié" there was a mocking tone to her words, but her expression was blank.
She had forgotten how tall Widowmaker was, one and a half head taller than her while in her boots. Tracer had to look up, trying to seal away her fear, it wasn't irrational fear, but useless given her situation. Collecting a tiny bit of courage "I need a place to stay" her stomach rumbled "and food..."
Widowmaker scoffs "why would I give you that?" Almost like Tracer had insulted her.
"I know you wanted something from me last time we talked." Her own words were yielding, not so surprising as her entire form was wavering, beaten black and blue.
"How so?" She shrugged with disinterest "I could just kidnap you again if I wanted, you are easy to catch."
"Then I won't cooperate with you. You said you wanted me to uphold that I would do anything." Tracer shifted her weight to her good leg and tried to hide the crooked one behind her other. It clearly bothered her.
"What if I say I'll show Overwatch the cd?"
"Do I look like I'm in a situation were I would care what people think?" Tracer holds her hands out gesturing at her leg as to prove her point.
Widowmaker gave her a once over, she had seen it the moment she stepped out of the limousine. The petite girl was in bad shape, her face bruised black and blue, and a bent leg she had to stand awkwardly at. She wondered if she had more bruises underneath her cloths, for documentation purposes of course. "So I can sell it?" Teasing Tracer was time well spent.
"If that is your thing..." Tracer couldn't help but feel pressured and extremely uncomfortable with the entire ordeal. But there was only a single shot at this, if she gave in she would simply be beaten and left for dead again.
"There is 4 movie titles to consider. Oh, and your name will of course be branded on the cover. Actress Tracer, but it will be much better once you tell me what your real name is." She lifts Tracers chin up with a hand, gazing into her eyes. "Which is?"
"Lena, Lena Oxton..." 'Shut up! Just shut up! Stop letting her intimidate you Lena.' She limps a step away, breaking Widowmakers grasp. There was a sudden burst of anger and determination in her eyes. "And then it will be like all the other times, I will kick and bite if you don't tie me good enough."
For a brief moment an upset look crossed Widowmakers face, as if she had just dropped and broken a mug she wanted. She followed after Tracer's step "Lena? Its a beautiful name" she cooed as if to reassure her she was not stepping in to harm her.
She quickly added "I see you are in a bad shape" one of her long arms had wrapped itself around Lena's lower back and pulled her in, too close for her own comfort. "How are you going to do anything for me like this?"
Tracer yelped, she was pressuring on her ribs "you are hurting me!" Widowmaker loosened her grip and lowered it to her bottom, the grip was loose around her body, but locked thoroughly. Lena couldn't step out of it, "this is me right now, I want a place to stay and food."
Widowmaker was amused by the squeamish girl. It was easy to tell the girl wasn't steadfast, she could push her. "And you will give me?"
"Almost anything, just don't break my bones or kill me" it was really a horrible idea to begin with, she could never trust Widowmaker.
Widowmakers poker face is on "Almost? But I have no use for you like this, you hurt from a simple touch." she pushes Tracer away and turns partially prepared to walk, observing her in the corner of her eye.
"Okey..." Tracers entire look screamed depressed as she backed off, it was worth a try, she did look pretty bad.
Widowmaker turned to her again. Her hands on her back leaning over the short girl, like she was expecting Tracer's downfall all along, but not caring enough to hide it. "You really need this, don't you?" There was a glare in Widowmaker's eyes Tracer didn't quite like.
"Yes" Tracer avoided her gaze by looking away, so obvious it almost hurt Widowmaker's keen observational senses. "How about a deal?" A triumphant smirk smeared on the tall woman's face.
"What kind of deal?" She didn't like her previous deal, or blackmail, that was definitely blackmail.
"You will get food and a place to stay" Widowmaker kept reasoning, "but in return you will have to do exactly as I say, anything and everything. Also I may harm you, or kill you" she inspects her long lustrous nails "whatever."
Tracer frowned "that's not a deal, that's you telling me you will use me and then kill me when you are done." She held on to her garbage bag in a defensive pose backing away.
Widowmaker draws a deep breath if only to exhale like a normal upset person. "Look, I will pay to have your injuries corrected. You work for me until the end of summer and then you are free, or dead, I can't promise, I'm not your friend" Widowmaker was honest, she didn't know how she could keep her nemesis around without eventually killing her. But with a discharged accelerator and a mutilated leg there was little harm Tracer could do. "I will do my best not to kill you."
Her eyes sparked ignoring about everything else Widowmaker said. "You will fix my leg?" she asked ecstatically, jumping carelessly as high as she could, tumbling as she landed, Widowmaker grasped her arm to keep her from falling."Yes."
"Wait, what is your interest in me?"
Her hands tucked casually into her pockets, she was calm as ever "don't get me wrong, I don't feel emotions like you do."
"Sure you don't" Tracer snickered. She knew Widowmaker felt next to nothing, or so she was told, it stood in deep contrast to her own experiences. What little she actually knew about her was out of the necessity to have an advantage when trying to 'kill her'.
Widowmaker shook her head pretending she didn't hear Tracers's snide remark. She gestured Tracer to follow as she turned her really long hair blew in the wind. Tracer had never paid much attention to her hair. She wondered what she used to keep it so full and radiant.
Tracer followed Widowmaker's heels in tow with her bag. She was fascinated by the long purple ponytail swinging back and forth, how did she manage to grow it that long? Not to mention keep it all in one place and so nice and neat. Tracer couldn't even keep her chin-short hair in check.
Mesmerized by the beautiful hair she couldn't help it, was it as silky soft as she had imagined? She reached a hand out to touch it.
Her state of awe was cut short as she lost her footing and as a reaction grasped firmly on to the only nearby thing she could find, Widowmakers ponytail. A high pitched shriek followed as they both crashed to the ground.
In a blink of an eye a furious Widowmaker twirled around, grabbing Tracer's throat with both her hands and squeezing till her knuckles went white. Tracers eyes were bright red and her lips blue before she got a hold of her anger and let go, leaving Tracer coughing desperately for air.
Widowmaker turned her attention away from Tracer and held onto her precious hair defensively, as if Tracer was a thief wanting to steal it. She saw loose strands of her hair still laying in Tracers filthy palms, for a moment she choked, something that may have been passable as a sob.
She unwillingly lead her gaze to Tracers palms again, observing her forever lost strands once more. Tracer's palms didn't move, she wasn't coughing either, she was completely still. Another glance revealed blood pooling around the girls head, her eyes were dull and lazy, her body completely still.
Widowmaker panicked sweeping the girl off the ground along with her bag. It was a short way to the limousine. "Hospital, now!" She was frantically tapping the side of Tracers cheek to keep her awake, she had stopped the bleeding with medical gel from her utility belt. But there was little she could do.
Tracer was there, then she was not, it felt like her body was floating. She saw Widowmaker's eyes glancing down at her, for once they weren't piercing, not looking for ways to tear her apart. She was cooing French to her, it rung softly like a song in her ears, yet it sounded so far away, she drifted.
Her surroundings shifted, people in white and light teal stood above her.
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Widowmaker sat upright in the waiting room, legs crossed. She hadn't seen Tracer in weeks, not for her lack of trying. Tracer hadn't shown on missions since she last found her in the park. It was sort of bitter, as she had devised a particularly humiliating session she never got the satisfaction of performing.
On the other hand she did have her hands full. Overwatch was running a program to revive old bastions in hope they would be like their unique bastion unit.
Safe to say Talon has been busy keeping the Omnics from destroying villages and towns. How is it Overwatch is the good guys again? Wait, they aren't.
Its a reason they were shut down to begin with, they are a bunch of crazies. Including the girl she had just brought in, they killed real people to protect machines, who would do such things?
According to Overwatch, Talon are the bad guys because they are strictly anti-Omnic, cyborg, or any of those destructive beings. Hey, lets forget about the Omnic crisis! Why they even allowed sentient machines to live was alien to her.
"Beings who can kill you should die", she reasoned. Glancing at the personnel only sign above the doors Tracer was taken through.
Maybe she was wrong just this once. She wanted her alive, not dead. It was no fun watching her body limp and face dull, it gave her no joy.
Would she enjoy killing her? Breaking her toy would mean the end of her fun, Tracer would no longer wiggle and squeal in her hands. How she loved that feeling of control over someone lesser than herself. Killing was the ultimate form of control, and she loved that, but it was too short lived.
She had been utterly surprised when Tracer had called, incoherent and desperate. Tracer asked for next to nothing, and she had a easy time pushing her for an even worse deal. The poor girl had sustained some serious damage. "Oh how the annoying had fallen." Widowmaker laughed silently for herself, producing as much of an amused smile as her features allowed.
It wasn't out of her heart that she would give Tracer medical treatment, it was to give her motivation to follow her orders. Also practical considering she would eventually hurt her badly, she just hadn't guessed she would end up breaking her skull that quickly, such a pity.
"Don't die today Cherié." The words that left her were emptier than she imagined.
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They had given her drugs to keep her awake during the procedures. She had several broken ribs, a piece of her upper shin was fractured, a cracked skull and another bad concussion.
What's left of the pain after the treatment is nausea and the throbbing in her head. Her only real complaint is that they didn't fix her leg, she was used to being uncomfortable by now.
They had been prodding her with questions regarding the injuries. They noted she had suffered two successive concussions. Maybe a third she couldn't quite remember, and with the one Widowmaker gave her barely a few weeks ago she had sustained an estimate of four.
"Super bad" the doctors said. Second-impact syndrome could've caused brain swelling and killed her. It weren't much they could do, but to tell her to be very careful with her head the next six months.
After her injuries were good, two people in white coats enter her room, they talk to her and ask her more questions. Some she isn't willing to answer and some she thinks are inappropriate and uncomfortable, overall not a pleasant experience.
To Widowmaker it felt like hours, to Tracer it felt like thirty minutes top. They escorted her out in the waiting room were Widowmaker was working tirelessly on her nails. Not surprisingly she took good care of herself, "beauty isn't natural, its refined." She said underneath her breath.
Tracer sat as the doctors handed Widowmaker papers and talked to her, she signed and listened to whatever boring stuff the doctor had to say. They were both throwing eerie looks at her and nodding, like she was some piece of construct they were working on.
Widowmaker turned and grabbed her arm pulling her up and out of the hospital. On the way out she threw a several pill bottles that the doctor had handed her in the trashcan.
They don't talk in the limousine, they stop for a bite, some takeaway baguettes they could bring along.
Tracers gaze is straight forward into the driver screen separating them. The livid look she had before they fell well was gone, "you said you would fix my leg." She seemed phased out.
Widowmaker sat a seat away observing her "by the end of the vacation or if I feel you deserve it. I can't have you running off."
"It looks terrible, I can't do anything like this." She was in all honesty happy about the situation. Widowmaker hadn't hurt her gravely for pulling her hair, she got expensive medical treatment and food. What bothered her was looking like a deformed person, and not being able to run if she felt it necessary. Running was a big part of her life.
"Cherié, you do look awful, but you can't blame that on your leg." Widowmaker said mockingly, observing Tracer from were she sat, there was a hint of something ominous emitting from her, but it faded as a smile formed to her usual cheeky face. 'What now, is she deaf too?' Widowmaker let it slide.
There was something pleasant and inviting about Tracers facial features, her face was uncommonly expressive. Not only making her easy to read, but also very interesting.
In the heat of their sessions she had several times found herself thinking Tracer was beautiful, a girl of all people, beautiful? It wasn't like her to question her sexuality, not that she felt anything for the opposite sex either, but she had been married once. Only reminding herself that she did kill him.
"Can I have some food?" Tracer turned her attention to Widowmaker, seemingly finally out of her own head.
Widowmaker raised a brow "you just ate five minutes ago?"
She was surprised by her statement "what? No I didn't, I haven't eaten all day." her tone credible as she could be.
"Is your stomach rumbling?" A rhetorical question testing if the girl had any wits.
Tracer folds her hands on her stomach "no..." She wasn't hungry at all.
Widowmaker was inspecting her, her eyes were sharp and attentive, uncomfortable to Tracer. She waited for her to say something, but it never came. Tracer knew she was looking for something, a flaw? Whatever it was, it made her uneasy, Widowmaker had been keeping an eye on her the entire ride.
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They stopped at a large storage building.
Though, it wasn't a storage building, it was a slaughter house, the main entrance had large billboard sign The Finest Butcher, with a graphical cleaver symbol and blood-spatter all across. It looked eerie and shady as any storage building could.
Tracer turned from her window to Widowmaker, her face was full of mistrust "why have we stopped here?"
She layered her French thickly and suggestively. "I have a surprise for you, Cherié" followed by a obvious faked smile.
Tracer quickly retracted her legs up into the seat and leaned as far away from Widowmaker as she could "no wait, please... "
The driver opens Widowmaker's door then hers holding it open making sure Tracer can't shut it, but the girl has already shifted to the middle of the limousine, out of reach.
Widowmaker who is outside, impatiently waiting by the door, sneers "not that you little runt, you are too easy to scare. We are here to correct your leg, you look awful."
"Fix it here?! What are you going to do, cut it off?" She didn't seem any less suspicious. In her defense Widowmaker made no attempt at sounding credible, her look was more irked than anything.
"Something like that." She said non-reassuringly "We're here for more than one reason, just be a good girl and keep your mouth shut and this will be over sooner." She was holding her hand out to Tracer.
She gave in against her better judgement and took her hand, she was immediately yanked out and escorted inside the building. She had been unwilling, but yielded quickly once Widowmaker gave her a death glare. "Be a good girl or ELSE." Emphasizing the else beyond what Tracer thought necessary, she swallowed and shrunk.
The driver, a short snobby looking man in a suit, was holding on to her. He was cute, he had short black and neatly kept hair. Presumably doing whatever Widowmaker finds below herself, like keeping her crippled nemesis still.
The inside was formed much like a store, meat behind glass counters, they sold meat, not that difficult to guess. Or at least it was set to look that way. She knew they weren't there for the actual meat.
They were greeted by a mature woman behind the counter, the store clerk. "Ahh, welcome! How can I help you Madam?" She had turned to Widowmaker as if she instantly knew who had the authority of the three.
"I got some new meat I want to tender and... What do you say, fix?" It didn't seem like this was somewhere Widowmaker visited often, but she knew enough about their practices. Not surprisingly.
"I know who you are" she smiled and seemed pleased "easy to recognize, no need for the formalities. For later reference, its called premium preparation. This way Ma'am and Mr" She doesn't address or even pay much notice to Tracer. She is essentially looking over her head, as if she was a dog.
They go to the back, the woman is gone momentarily and the floor opens wide, a broad set of stairs lead down. The clerk is already a step on the way "shall we?"
At this point Tracer is getting extremely nervous, but Widowmakers driver was firmly holding her arm, not forcibly, but supporting her unsteady weight as they walked down the stairs. He did nudge her reassuringly, a small boost to her lacking courage. She took a liking to him.
It was strangely sleek and sanitary compared to the outside, like walking from a farmhouse to into an apartment like Angela's.
There were a lot of really long hallways. Where they were standing had to be a small piece of a larger complex. There was even an elevator on her right side. According to the floor counter ontop of the elevator doors, it had eight floors.
The elevator was spacious, even with the four of them inside. "Anything other than the leg?" The clerk inquired.
"No, she has just had procedures at the hospital." Widowmaker had definitely been through this a lot of times before. The casual attitude she had to the entire situation including her familiarity with their protocol, it was way too cool and controlled.
"We will measure her now, and fit her after the leg is done." she glances at the butler sizing him "I can find help to handle her" Tracer didn't like how the clerk talked of her, like she was an animal of some sort not capable of hearing them.
"No, I can handle her" Widowmaker didn't waver, the clerk wouldn't question her either.
They arrived at the fourth floor, it was large sleek room, glass doors covered the walls. Beyond each door there were tiny prison like dorms, real people locked behind the doors, two each small cubicle. Mostly women, all stunning, a few of the rooms had men, but nothing in comparison.
Was this a modern slave trading ring of some sort?
She had stopped at one of the glass doors, not adhering to the driver pulling her shoulder. There was a girl in there pressing against the glass, she reminded her a lot of herself, similar frame and hair colour. Only dressed in underwear, like a brothel girl. If she ever had a sister, she would probably have been like her. Sooo god damn beautiful too, it almost hurt.
Two arms reached around her waist from behind, pulling her into an embrace, Widowmaker breathes into her neck in a delicate tone. "Don't keep me waiting"
Tracer glances once more over the forlorn girl behind the glass. A normal reaction to seeing people locked up would be to run away or fight to get away, but she had gone numb from the past two days. She had little chance to get back on her feet or even live without help. Leaning back into Widowmaker's body and whispering "are you going to sell me?"
Widowmaker tightens her grip around her waist "I want you." Tracers cheeks became rosy and her heart speed up. The older woman noticed her ogling the girl behind the glass "do you like her?"
Before Tracer could answer Widowmaker turned her around, leading her back in the correct direction. "Too bad, you can't help her" her tone was suddenly annoyed, bordering on angry. As they walk she flirtatiously gropes Tracers butt making her jolt and giggle. She felt bad for them, she would help if she could, but life wasn't always fair, she of all people knew that.
The clerk and driver was already far ahead, conversing.
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She got pushed through a door, it looked a lot like a doctors office. If a doctors office had an operation bed with restraints for the entire body.
Widowmaker was standing close behind her as a bald man in a white coat measured her neck.
"Is this to fix my leg?" She sounded doubtful, her large eyes flickering nervously around the room.
Widowmaker sighed. "Yes. Its easier this way, trust me. Correcting your leg would take weeks in a hospital, there is countless of regulations regarding reconstruction of bones."
She frowned, "regulations are to protect patients like me are they not?"
To her surprise the bold man answers her. "No. Standard procedure nowadays is giving you a cybernetic knee. Governments are scared of bio-weapons and biological enhancements." He flicks his fingers "like super soldiers."
Widowmaker smirks, pointing at herself "I am a good example of what they do not want, yes? Also your friend Soldier 76, massive troublemaker. Sit on the table." Tracer has to skip up on the table edge, its taller than her waistline.
The bald man continues "I assure you I am better than the doctors who handled you at the hospital, I'm paid far more." He says as he counters his statement by casually and carelessly plunging a syringe into her thigh. Not removing her tights, or even looking her way.
Tracer growls "watch it!" It doesn't hurt, but she still jerks in surprise. Her body suddenly feels like heaven, the aching and throbbing is gone. "I love whatever was in that..." Seconds later she's already dozing off.
He turns to Widowmaker "what anesthetics did they use in the hospital?"
She hands him the papers she got at the hospital "nothing of mention, she got some stimulants. We had an accident coming over here, the hospital was closer."
"This wont be a problem." He places a pair of round glasses at his nose and turns to Tracer.
She is laid down on the operations table and a huge machine is lowered in above her. She is already unconscious when he places a tubed mask over her mouth and nose.
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When Tracer awakes she is laying down in the limousine, she feels groggy and wobbly, but fumbles her way back up into a sitting position. "Were was that?" She rubs her bedhead hair.
"Some place you should hope you never return to." Widowmaker was sitting on the other side, a large package of meat in the seat beside her. "Unless you return for the meat, they are the best."
"My leg!" Tracer jumps in her seat hugging her healthy and non-crippled legs, cradling them like babies. "Thank you!" She smiles from ear to ear, she could definitely find some work like this. Once she got a chance to run away.
"Already thinking of running off aren't you?" Widowmaker tilts her head glancing at Tracer who is obviously faking anger at the remark. "I'm thinking of no such thing!" She pouts, sticking her tongue out.
"Shall I remind you that we had a deal? I put a slave collar on you" She explains holding her hand up as if it was something obvious.
"A what?!" Tracer gapes, reaching to her neck, she hadn't noticed it was there. A black band of some sort, thick like a belt with a metal o-ring attached to it, she can see the reflection in the window.
"Its simple, it has a lot of energy. If you somehow try to remove it, it will kill you, think exploding head." Tracer sits still moping in defeat.
She continues "it has four voice activated modes, giving you high voltage shocks if I utter specific words. It will also fry you if you try to leave a designated area, it has a GPS, I can track you too."
She lastly adds "I don't doubt your friend Winston can remove it easily without harming you, but you wont be anywhere near your friend the next three months."
Tracer decided to keep her mouth shut. She would have to wait for another opportunity to get out of there before she got hurt really badly. First she had to figure out the bloody collar, and how to disable it. Her face and hands were plastered to the passenger door's window as they entered the mansions gardens, it was still a few minutes driving until they reached the actual mansion. To Tracers surprise it was light and Roman inspired, not dark and Gothic.
They enter the mansion that of course has a grand entry staircase. She knew it! "Follow me" Widowmaker lead her up the long staircase. She was probably going to be there for awhile...