Tracer sat in Morrison's office with a wool blanket wrapped around her slender body. She could see her breath. She'd have to talk to someone about installing heating systems throughout the facility.
"You've probably heard. Twenty four hostages are currently being held in the capital of Eruk by the nation's foreign dictator. The media doesn't know it, but negotiations have reached an absolute stalemate. American armed forces abandoned Eruk a few days ago. They're saying it's not worth jeopardizing hundreds of lives for twenty four people." Morrison took off his signature glasses, revealing the rest of the slash of a scar on his face. "I'm going to send teams to take the dictator and his personnel out."
If there was a contrast between Jack Morrison and Lena Oxton, it was their views on killing. Jack viewed it as a necessity in crime and warfare, an inevitable part of his work.
Lena wasn't a killer. The times she had to kill, she seldom brought herself to think about it. But, she knew that she was doing it in the name of justice. Not virtue and peace. She didn't believe killing was in the name of virtue and peace.
"You're in charge of the entire operation. Team A is going to knock on Dictator Nevar's front door and take out his personnel. Taking out Nevar is going to be a tad bit more challenging. I'm sending a second team, Team B, to take him out. The team will consist of several snipers that will be located around the perimeter of the plaza. There are several snipers that aren't Overwatch members, but whom I'll be contacting for this mission."
"Who'll be my second in command?"
"I'll allow you to appoint whoever you think can handle the job."
Tracer raised an eyebrow. "Me? Appointing?"
"You handle yourself well out there. I trust you. You know the protocol," Morrison grumbled, lazily dismissing the time traveler.
Lena hurried back to her barrack, where Widow lounged in the kitchen, staring blankly at a book page that she wasn't even reading.
"You aren't tired?" Lena asked, turning up the heater.
Widow shook her head. "Haven't wanted to sleep lately."
"Guess what I brought home?"
"Hm... A kitten runt you found on the side of the road?"
"Mission specifics. I'm commanding an operation to save hostages in Eruk. I already know who I want second in command."
"Who?"
"Genji Shimada."
"Shimada. Hm. How terrible." Widow had a little unspoken grudge towards the man's brother. He was one of the few people that was an absolute pain in the ass to recruit. He wouldn't join Talon, no matter how... tempting some of her offers were.
"When do you leave for Eruk?" Widow asked.
"In an hour. Morrison said I'd be back in approximately a week, but don't bet on it. I have a feeling this operation will take longer."
Widow could tell through Lena's body language that something was bothering her. She beckoned for Tracer to sit down next to her.
"What's running through your mind?" Amélie inquired, cupping Lena's hand in her own.
"It's just... I don't know. I know what I signed up for when I joined Overwatch. But, it'll never feel right to me."
"Ah. Killing," Widow noted.
"I dunno how I feel about it."
"I'm going to be straight with you. I have no advice to give you on that matter based on my own personal experiences. However, based on what I've seen, it's completely unhealthy to pretend that aspect of your work doesn't exist. The key difference between your line of work and mine is that you're acknowledging when it is morally just to kill another human being."
Lena leaned in closer to Widow, before placing her temple against Widow's chest and wrapping her arms around her. "I appreciate you, ya know that?" Lena checked the time, before groaning exasperatingly. "I have to go. I'll be back before you know it. I promise."
Amélie chastely kissed Lena on the cheek as Lena wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and exited.
Teams A and B huddled in an abandoned store situated a few hundred meters away from the perimeter of the infiltrated plaza. Tracer took roll, before stating, "Team A. Stick close together and watch out for all your comrades. We leave absolutely nobody behind." Tracer looked around her, before spotting Pharah, the child of the reputable Ana Amari. "You sure you can handle heading the sniper division?"
"I can handle it," Pharah declared. "Just give me the go ahead."
"Alright, luvs," Tracer remarked rather informally. "No casualties, alright? Go."
Tracer tapped her chronal accelerator, before signaling Team A to follow right behind her. Before entering the plaza through the gated door, she took a deep inhale of the smogless air. It was snowing lightly, and the white particles landed softly on Lena's hair and clothing. The colors of the buildings surrounding them were vibrant oranges and reds, and there was no sign of life anywhere else in the world except the steady and shallow breathing of her comrades. There were gigantic murals adorning the floors of the plaza, murals of laughing and singing and dancing. None of the murals depicted war.
"What a shame," the main medic murmured, shaking her head.
"Yeah," Lena agreed. She stuck her head out slightly, only to spot several armed guards, most of them omnics. They were camping out, seemingly waiting for action to happen. Boy, were they in for a surprise.
"Ambush on my count," Lena whispered sharply.
One. Lena drew back her pistol.
Two. Genji tapped his fingers against the handle of his gun. Lena's mind cleared as she focused on her heart rate. All she could picture was the enemy.
Three. The guards didn't have time to draw their weapons as Team A worked at a speedy rate to shoot them down. No alarms sounded.
Tracer had no idea where the hostages were located within the plaza. So, she made a route to clear.
"We are sticking to the route," Tracer said. "Keep noise at a low. Follow my lead."
The team cautiously went through scores of rooms, offices, and stores, before determining that the west side of the plaza was vacant.
All of a sudden, just as they were moving towards the center of the gigantic plaza, several alarms blared into the abyss of the night. Several armed personnel came running out of the second story and began shooting at Team A, shattering the windows of the building Team A was situated in.
Team A immediately went into back to back circle formation, all while gritting their teeth through the absolutely horrid sound. Team A began firing at the enemy whilst simultaneously dodging retaliation bullets. Genji ran up to the larger omnic in the middle of the pack, before slicing its head off with a quick slice of his wakizashi.
All of a sudden, two Bastion units fell from the second story window. Tracer was quick to realize that her team was definitely not equipped to deal with the Bastions.
"Run for cover!" Lena barked at her teammates, breaking up the formation in order to hide behind heavy duty desks.
The desks were slowly chipping away as the Bastions sank hundreds of bullets in them. Lena whipped her head back and forth, looking for any possible faults in the enemy's formation. They were blocking every exit.
"Cease fire!" Tracer heard a man shout. Immediately, all of the Bastion units and soldiers firing came to an absolute halt. Lena perked up, a look of confusion plastered on her features. Everyone turned to her for orders.
"Cease fire!" she commanded.
"Aren't you going to come out?" Tracer recognized the man's voice from propaganda podcasts, complete with his signature thick accent.
Nevar.
Lena shut her eyes tightly for a few seconds. "Got my back, Genji?"
Genji nodded, signaling the go ahead.
Everyone, one by one, peeked their heads over the desks and observed Lena step into the open, her hands slightly shaking. Keep calm. Keep calm.
"I assume Overwatch sent you?" Nevar rhetorically asked.
Lena nodded. "Heard you're unwilling to negotiate."
"You heard correct. Now, I'm only going to say this once," he said, articulating his words slowly. "I kindly suggest you give us all of your weapons. Or else I'll have my men shoot up your entire team with a wave of the hand."
"Do as you're told," Tracer reluctantly instructed. This was definitely not part of the plan. However, it was the only viable option. The entire floor was guarded. Her team was fucked regardless of the cease fire. Morrison greatly underestimated the number of personnel under Nevar's command at the location. "Do it now. Line up."
Everyone's heads spun as an apprehended Team B irritatingly scurried behind Team A. They had been caught, too.
Nevar rolled his eyes and sighed. "Now."
Word got around the watchpoint quickly that the operation in Eruk went south. Nobody knew where Lena's team was held- and few knew if they were alive.
"I heard that Nevar's men killed the team and placed their mutilated bodies in front of the plaza as a warning," a younger recruit hauntingly stated while walking with a group of others as Widowmaker leaned against the building wall, listening in on their conversation. Widow didn't know what to believe when it came to Lena's status. There were dozens of accounts, many of which were simply outlandish and untrue.
Widowmaker waited until it was dark before she put on Lena's trench coat with quivering hands. She peered around the seemingly desolate shooting range, before flinging her rifle over her right shoulder. There was no missing that silhouette. And that ridiculous hat.
McCree sat at a table, rolling a cigarette between his spry fingers. The other hand firmly held a bottle of bourbon.
"Contraband, Cowboy," Widowmaker stated, taking the seat next to him.
"Well. A time like this calls for it." McCree offered her his cigarette, to which she accepted.
"I heard about Eruk," Widow said, initiating the conversation. "Did you know any of them?"
McCree nodded. "Unsettling what happened. Commander's been talking about putting together a rescue mission."
Widow perked up. "Rescue mission? They're alive?"
"Despite what you may have heard."
Widow drew in a deep sigh of relief. "I assume there are some rigid travel restrictions when it comes to entering and exiting Eruk?"
"Rigid? Stiff as steel. There's a ginormous land caravan attempting to flee to neighboring countries, but they're being detained. Good luck attempting to enter by land." McCree rolled his eyes. "It was a pain in the ass to get the UN to approve us operating in Eruk. Only way in is via aircraft."
"I see..." Widow murmured, completely unfazed by the challenge of entering Eruk. If she had a will to do something, you best fucking believe she would find a way to do it.
"It's gonna take weeks to devise a rescue plan. But the thing is, Nevar doesn't do weeks. The team will be dead in a few days, along with the hostages." McCree offered Widow a swig of his bourbon, to which she also accepted.
"Well. Let's hope it doesn't come down to that." Widow got up from her seat, a plan formulated in her mind.
"I think I'm gonna go take my mind off... things," McCree replied, not entirely sure if he could keep his liquor. His head pounded as he stutter-stepped towards the exit. "Have a good night."
Widow sat in silence for a few moments after he left, taking in a deep draft of his forgotten cigarette, before she noiselessly pulled up Lena's hoodie. It began lightly snowing, and she didn't look too out of place as she briskly walked deeper into the watchpoint with her head down and demeanor somber.
The main area of the watchpoint held an aircraft station, where aircrafts of all shapes and sizes would undock, unload, and take off at their convenience. Today was not an exception to this routine as employees shuffled about, moving out of Widow's way as she approached the directory. No aircrafts were headed to Eruk. However, a delivery freighter was headed towards a neighboring country in approximately an hour. That was enough.
"Excuse me." Widowmaker stopped a young man in his teens. "Where is aisle 202?"
The man took off his earpiece in order to hear Widow better. "¿Puedo ayudar con algo?"
"Por favor. ¿Dónde está 202?"
The boy gave Widow directions, all the while feeling put off by her aura of antipathy. He walked away unsettled.
Fewer and fewer people crowded the surrounding areas as Widow walked towards the direction of the freighter. She identified the freighter by the airline code on the side of the plane.
Widow waited for half an hour, before she entered the aircraft through the rear opening. The loadmaster barely finished loading the equipment. She paused as she heard a man sigh at the far end of the freighter, before he closed the hatch. Widowmaker vanished amongst the boxes of supplies as she patiently waited for the hum of the engine, signaling takeoff. After the watchpoint was plenty of distance away, she got up and out of her spot.
She made her way towards the open cockpit of the plane, where she encountered three crew members- the pilot, the copilot, and the loadmaster, presumably. Their chatter came to a halt as Widow blocked the cockpit entrance and exit with her body.
"Gentlemen," Widow purred, causing the crew members to eye one another in absolute and utter confusion. "A question. Will you be flying over Eruk today?" She stared directly into the pilot's eyes. He uncomfortably loosened his collar and stared at the British emblem plastered on her Overwatch jacket.
"Ma'am?" the copilot chimed in. "Who are you? Why are you-"
"I'm the one that is asking the questions." The pilot mumbled underneath his breath and reached for his com, before Widow snatched his arm midair. "I need a lift to Eruk."
"I'm... I'm afraid we aren't stopping in Eruk. Just flying over," the man replied in trepidation.
Widowmaker swung her rifle lazily from her shoulder to both of her hands. "Listen closely. I will give you a coordinate, which will be located in Eruk. You will land within a five mile radius of that coordinate. No more than five. If any of you even think about pressing that emergency button or speaking through any com-" Widow beckoned towards them, "- I will make you swallow a hot bullet. You are free to leave after you drop me off."
"Are you fucking insane?" the loadmaster idiotically piped in, causing the pilot and the copilot to attempt to shut him up.
The men eyed one another, as if they were formulating a plan to rush Widowmaker at the pilot's command. However, Widow was one step ahead. She slammed the butt of the rifle into the loadmaster's head, knocking him unconscious to the floor. "He's not needed, anyways," she carelessly stated.
The pilots had no idea who the fuck they were dealing with until Widow readjusted her gloves, revealing the unconcealed blue tint of her skin. Widowmaker had planned to kill everyone aboard the freighter after they landed in Eruk. However, the uncomfortable sensation in the back of her head reminded her that Lena absolutely wouldn't want Widowmaker to kill innocent people, even if it meant sacrificing her own wellbeing. Security in the watchpoint would definitely be upped after Widow's little stunt. They will finally install working security cameras in the desolate parts of the watchpoint, making Widow's stay at the watchpoint trickier than it already was. She would have to worry about that later.
The pilots plugged in the coordinates and surveyed the area, before realizing they were headed near an abandoned airstrip.
"Arrival time?" Widow asked, reapplying a bandage to her wounded hand. She paid little attention to the loadmaster as he went to his knees and groaned in pain.
"4:15 am."
"Parfait!" Widow clasped her hands, unusually enthusiastic. The pilot eyed Widow's rifle, before making preparations to land the freighter.
"I'm gonna need you three to step in the back of the freighter," Widowmaker ordered.
"What for?" the copilot asked.
"Désole. I didn't know I permitted you to ask a question."
"I can't wait for Overwatch to bust your ass. Crazy bitch," the copilot hissed.
The pilot roughly covered his colleague's mouth with his hands. "Shut the fuck up, Robert!"
"No, let him speak," Widowmaker commanded. "I'm curious as to what he believes he will accomplish by speaking to me like that."
"I'm not afraid of people like you."
Widowmaker had planned this entire hijack within the span of thirty minutes. Now that she landed, she didn't know what to do with the Overwatch pilots and loadmaster. "Step in the back. Now."
The men fully believed that they were being sent to their graves. Their confirmations were pretty much solidified when Widow asked the loadmaster to unravel the cords they had brought to secure the boxed goods.
Widow made all the crew members stand back to back, before she tied the men together. She made sure their arms weren't completely immobile, before she took off her boot and slid out her pocket knife. She threw it on the ground in front of her. "There's a knife. Use it."
By the time the men worked together to cut themselves out of the makeshift rope, Widow was already long gone, a mere memory in their shaken minds.
After everyone was searched, Lena's team was led into a sort of storage room, where the team discovered most of the rest of the remaining hostages. The official picked Lena out from the group and violently led her to a separate room, leaving the rest of her team behind.
There was no ventilation throughout the plaza. There were also no armed guards inside the small storage room- just the heavy sound of breathing filling the air.
"Is this all of you?" Genji asked, counting heads.
Initially, none of the original hostages replied. Then, after an awkward moment of silence, a woman with aged eyes spoke. "No."
"Where are the others?"
The woman shrugged, and Genji asked no more questions.
Lena bit one of the guards attempting to restrain her to a leather chair, causing the other guard to slap her sillily across the face. The guard cursed her out in his native tongue.
"What's your name?"
"Fuck you."
A guard nodded and paced in front of her, before deeply inhaling and punching her in the face with leather gloves. Lena screamed, unable to contain the tears from welling her swollen eye.
The guard pushed back Lena's forehead, strapping it to the chair she was bound to. She was completely at the mercy of these people.
"Let me ask again," Nevar vocalized. "Your name?"
"Oxton."
"Oxton what?"
"Lena."
"Callsign?"
"Tracer."
"Ah." Nevar made a tsk sound with his snakelike tongue. "I expected more from the infamous Tracer."
Lena squirmed underneath the restraints. "What do you want to know?"
"We want to speak to your commander."
"I can arrange that," Tracer assured. "There's a com in my jacket. Bring it out."
The guard pressed the com against Lena's lips. "Hello? Can anyone hear me?"
Static awaited Lena for a fraction of a second, before she heard, "Control room operator here."
"Transfer me to Commander Morrison." She eyed the official and the guards. "Right now, please."
Lena's heart raced as a minute passed with no response. She beckoned for the guard to answer the com as she heard Morrison greeted, "Agent Oxton." She couldn't hear what Nevar told Commander, but she could tell that Morrison said something that agitated the official. He paced out of the room scathing.
Widowmaker readjusted her hair tie, allowing the snow to slam against her rosy face. All of her makeup wore off. Her cheeks were a radiant pink, and the morning sky was streaked with splashes of white against an almost lavender backdrop. She was hidden within a patch of greenery. Widow fidgeted with the trigger of her rifle, lightly running her fingers on the sides and tapping against it. She scanned the area, covering the peeking sun with her free hand. Widowmaker only knew the location of the plaza because she sifted through Lena's letters disclosing mission specifics. Morrison, for an unusually large number of missions, purposefully avoided divulging revealing information via computer in fear that it would be leaked. If anyone attempted to find details revealing the mission in Eruk, they wouldn't find much by hacking into Overwatch's online systems of information.
Widowmaker saw smoke wafting through an open area of the plaza, as well as the silhouette of two guards, possibly snipers, situated uneasily on the rooftop. Amélie focused on her three major goals: get in, get Lena, and get out.
Widow wished she had a suppressor. No matter. She could make do with what she had.
She could barely hear herself think over the sound of the powerful wind rushing her ears. The wind would make it slightly harder to shoot a target. However, the wind would make it easier to suppress the racket the Widow's Kiss produced.
Widow peered through her scope, and the familiar sensation she had aimed to escape after her time with Lena overcame her.
Widow's senses heightened to an unnatural ability, her breathing slowed. She took in a deep breath, before adjusting her aim accordingly to the wind resistance.
The shot zipped through the air, and the guard slumped over almost cartoonishly. Widowmaker winced soon after she took the shot, hoping the wind was enough to muffle out most of the sound. Widow promptly took out the second guard, and she soon figured out that they were carrying shotguns, not rifles. Widow secured her grappling hook against the side of the orange building the first guard was situated on. She searched the guards, before dragging their bodies over the side of the building. She didn't cringe as she heard the sound of crackling bones hit the dirt below.
What now? Widow jumped down from the roof to the third story of the shopping center, clearing out rooms and stores as efficiently as humanly possible. She came across an unusual sight in one corner of a store.
Widowmaker stopped in her tracks immediately and stepped away from the bombs. Widow determined that the third floor of the plaza was all clear of personnel. She immediately ducked as she heard heavily cladded boots stomp across a bottom floor. The official spoke in his native tongue.
"Yes. I see," Widow heard him mumble underneath his breath.
A woman roughly asserted, "There's no sustaining this. It's only a matter of time before... before-"
"They're breaking. Give it a few more hours, and I guarantee they'll hand the weapons over to us."
The woman's click of the heels signaled that she was leaving to tend to business elsewhere. Widow waited until the woman was well out of earshot before she jumped from a railway onto the man's back, digging the side of her dagger against his exposed neck.
"Hello," she announced in his language. "Don't. Struggle. Or. Scream."
Nevar struggled against Widow's grasp. "It'll hurt more if you struggle," she maintained, speaking quickly. She knew anyone, at any moment, could appear and ruin everything. "Where is Lena Oxton?"
The man's look of confusion turned into one of desperation. "Help!" he managed to cry out, before Widow made the executive decision to move him out of sight and execute him. She patted the official down, before seizing his weapon and color-coded keycards. Not that she would need most of them, anyways. Most of the buildings Widow encountered were unsecured and easy to gain access to. However, as she made her way towards the center of the plaza, there were increasingly more locked rooms. Widowmaker grew less settled as she looked at her surroundings, which was riddled with evidence of carnage.
Widow was about to make her way to the dreaded first floor, when the faintest of sounds came from one of the storage units she could have sworn she cleared out. Something- someone- was whimpering.
Widow drew out her rifle, the sound becoming more audible as she stepped closer towards several larger storage boxes. There were woolen blankets spread out on the floor.
What the hell? Widow quietly began unstacking the containers, before coming across something she definitely never intended to come across.
The brown-eyed child cried louder the longer Amélie looked at her. "Oh, baby girl," Amélie soothed, setting her rifle down and taking the anguished one in her arms. "I'm here. I'm here." She couldn't have been older than eight months.
Amélie sat down on the floor, pressing the baby's head against her chest. She could feel her heartbeat pulse throughout her entire body. Widow had absolutely no idea what to do.
¿Puedo ayudar con algo? Can I help with something?
Por favor. ¿Dónde está 202? Please. Where is 202?
A/N: Life has really kicked my butt, hasn't it? More to come soon!
