[SIDE STREETS - 20:20]
With all the clothing boutiques closed, Widowmaker procures a mask and goes out for dinner. She walks the winding side alleys away from the popular eateries searching for something a little more secluded.
The backstreets are dark and empty. The vendors have packed up for the night leaving only drunk tourist and the few streetwise locals meandering about. The lack of sunlight divides the city into two areas. The ones that are lit up by lampposts, flashing neon signs, or the flames of a patio heater and the ones that are pitch black; reminding roamers of a not so distant past without electric lighting. The air smells of rain, well-prepared meat, and near sewer grates piss, shit, and ammonia. The streets remind her of Paris.
Ten minutes later she stops at her destination, a small pizzeria. Amélie might have eaten here in the past; Widowmaker might have seen it when planning escape routes.
She takes a seat at a two-person table ignoring the bread set out. The restaurant will charge if she touches it and she does not want to ruin her appetite. She orders antipasto, coda alla vaccinara, and a bottle of red wine. Overwatch is much more lax about her diet than Talon's nutritionists ever were.
While waiting for her food to arrive Amélie pulls out her phone. It has web access, chat/vid capabilities, and social apps. Everything a bad little assassin needs, all courtesy of Overwatch. But the information is heavily filtered, her activity monitored, and the device doubles as a tracking device, of course. Widowmaker knows all of this and Overwatch knows she knows, so she plays along. She can procure a clean phone from an unsuspecting civilian anytime she needs to do something illicit.
She's surprised to see she has one new message. Most of the agents avoid speaking to her except for thinly veiled threats. Some less veiled than others. The child, D. Va, takes great pleasure in thinking up new nicknames for her. In this way Overwatch and Talon are similar. At Talon she dealt with fear disguised as respect. At Overwatch, it is fear disguised as hatred.
The message is from Hanzo. An odd but not unwelcome change from Dr. Ziegler's stiff check-ups and Soldier 76's cold orders. Hanzo understands that allies and friends are two separate categories that sometimes overlap. This is a concept that eludes most of the Overwatch agents. In the past, he worked with professional liars, killers, and thieves to expand and maintain the Shimada Empire. In a different life, he would have been an outstanding Talon agent.
While Amélie toys with the phone her mind wanders to her last day of freedom.
[ABKHAZIA, GEORGIA - ROOFTOPS - 7 MONTHS AGO]
It had been two months after she was betrayed by Talon. Widowmaker flirted from city to city, moving as far away from the charred remains of her stolen aircraft as she could. She kept a low profile, stayed in safe houses from various organizations (plus the occasional five-star hotel), and never ventured out during the day. She tried her hardest to disappear, continuing the illusion that she was dead.
Somehow Overwatch found her. Before it wouldn't have been a problem but weeks of being on the run finally caught up with her. She and Tracer performed their typical song and dance across the rooftops. Widowmaker was desperately trying to figure out how she could escape before Tracer realized there wasn't an extraction team hiding in the wings.
Every shot she took at the girl missed as Tracer blinked around her with that infuriating giggle. She raised her rifle to fire when suddenly there was a piercing pain in her arm.
Widowmaker looked expecting to see a graze from the pulse pistols; instead, she saw an arrow jutting out of her forearm. The shaft stuck out of her grappling hook arm-mount. She felt blood trickling into her sleeve. Her body armor was designed to protect her from bullets. Not arrows.
Tracer appeared next to her. Widowmaker dropped and rolled on instinct.
An arrow. An arrow. Who used a bow and arrow in the twenty-first century?
She popped up and continued running.
She couldn't use her grappling hook without risking furthering her injury. While it was almost impossible for her to bleed out, she healed very slowly. She was going to need good medial supplies, professional medial supplies. She was going to have to rob a hospital. Again.
She pivoted, dropped to one knee, and open fired with her gun in the assault rifle configuration. She could feel the arrow's head tearing into her muscles. The pain made it difficult to hold her rifle steady. The wide spray hit Tracer forcing her to recall. Widowmaker gained a few more seconds as the Accelerator went dark.
Now, Amélie flexes her healed arm. Her glove and coat cover the scars and tattoos. She opens the message.
Hanzo: How goes the mission? Run into any trouble yet?
She taps out a reply.
Widow: How did you guess?
Hanzo: The day a mission runs smoothly is the day the sun falls into the ocean. Something always goes wrong.
Hanzo: What happened?
Widow: We reached the safe house without a problem. Tracer contacted the informant, but complications caused her to lose them. We're taking some down time before we regroup and reassess the situation.
Hanzo: Careful. Prose such as that might encourage Athena to assign you to write mission reports.
Hanzo: Allow me to rephrase my question.
Hanzo: How goes the mission with Twitchy?
Amélie smirks. There is no doubt in her mind who has been bestowed with that nickname. Part of her is disappointed she didn't think of the epithet earlier. Part of her wonders what contemptuous title has been given to her.
Widow: If I didn't know that Dr. Ziegler would never allow it I would suspect that her blood had been replaced with caffeine.
Widow: Or one of those ridiculous energy drink concoctions.
Widow: Besides being the human personification of a firecracker she's been completely useless.
Widow: I think you have been in a similar situation?
Hanzo: If she is anything like my brother was I assure you no one will blame you for shooting her a little.
Hanzo: Non-lethally, I mean. It's not like any injury she sustains will be permanent anyways.
Widow: I shall take a moment to point out that was your idea, and I have in no way endangered any of my teammates.
Widow: But
Widow: I have been toying with the idea of sewing her mouth shut.
Hanzo: I mixed an adhesive into Genji's toothpaste once. The next few hours were complete bliss.
Hanzo: Well. Almost complete bliss.
Hanzo: Genji retaliated of course. Ruined all my uniforms.
Hanzo: He cut off all of my right sleeves. I had to pretend it was some grand fashion statement.
Hanzo: The lack of fabric did increase my range of motion in battle.
Widow: You just keep pretending that your exposed nipple isn't the fashion crime of the century.
Hanzo: I believe you said something about "losing your informant"? Sounds pretty sloppy for a master assassin.
A waiter comes over to her table, handing off her food. Widowmaker gives him a curt thank you and sets her phone aside. She takes her pills and picks at her food, careful to take small, measured bites of everything. She can't eat too much. Her slow digestion system won't allow it. She savors each bite, appreciating the rich mixtures of flavors. Italian isn't quite the same as a properly prepared Blanquette de Veau, but anything is better than the chain restaurants that the OW agents are so fond of.
Amélie returns to the conversation on her phone. Hanzo's sudden change in topic is proof of his embarrassment, any other time she would pursue such an obvious weakness, but what caused the mission to snag was not her fault.
Widow: To clarify it was Tracer's job to protect the informant at close range. At which she failed.
Widow: Miserably.
Widow: Instead I recognized the threat and prevented the informant from getting their brains splattered all over the floor.
Hanzo: So now not only is there a "threat" but somehow it got close enough to endanger the life of your asset?
Widow:
Widow: Hanzo
Widow: You may want to take a moment to remember who you are speaking to
Widow: And what you are accusing me of
Hanzo: My sincerest apologies Widowmaker.
Hanzo: It was not my intent to offend you.
Hanzo: I am just trying to fully understand your situation so I can best assist you. It appears your mission is going more poorly than I originally thought.
Amélie shifts in her seat, uncomfortable. Hanzo is an ally and has proven to be both trustworthy and experienced on and off the battlefield. Mission failure is unacceptable. She sighs and starts tapping out her reply. There are worse people she could be talking to about this.
Widow: An enemy agent infiltrated the meeting and almost ruined everything. I shot them in the head. The informant slipped away in the chaos. Tracer's only contribution was to throw a tantrum afterward. She was upset I didn't tell her that I was going to shoot beforehand.
Hanzo: I see.
Widow: I warned her it would be difficult to cover her from inside a building.
Widow: But did she listen?
Widow: No.
Hanzo: Did you offer any alternatives?
Widow: I expressed my concerns, and she ignored them.
Widow: I just... expected more from her in the field.
Widow: Though I don't know why.
Hanzo: Hmm.
Hanzo: From what I have observed Miss Oxton is use to working alone or in small groups; scouting ahead or taking down fast moving targets.
Hanzo: It is safe to assume that she isn't normally in a leadership position.
Hanzo: I'm not saying your actions were incorrect or uncalled for.
Hanzo: But while her immature and carefree behavior mimics my brother's during his playboy days it is evident that Tracer does care about the success of the operation.
Widow:
Widow: Careful Hanzo. That almost sounded like advice. You don't want to lose your reputation as an emotionally hardened warrior, do you?
Hanzo: I do not believe you are in any position to judge my emotional state.
Amélie continues her friendly banter with Hanzo until her food is cold. She accepts the waiter's offer for a box. She won't need it but if the rumors are correct Tracer eats for the equivalent of five. And the girl probably went to one of those overpriced eateries that served watered down food for tourist. Even if this entire mission is a failure, she will expand Tracer's palate beyond spaghetti.
[SAINT MICHAEL HOTEL - SAFE HOUSE - 20:27]
Lena stares down at her personal pizza in her lap, still in its box. The TV plays silently to her left. She scooches down the couch stretching out her legs. Ah, the advantages of being short.
She had decided to eat back in the hotel after seeing the line for a table. (It had taken her 23 minutes and 45 seconds to advance three steps.) She was relieved to see that Widowmaker wasn't back and Athena informed her the assassin hadn't tried to flee the country, yet.
"So I take it the mission didn't go too well?" Hana asks.
Lena glances up at her tablet precariously balanced on the couch's back. On the screen, Hana takes a sip of a can of soda. In the background, Reinhardt is playing a friendly game of chess with Torbjörn. Lena forces a smile.
"What? Pshh, no. Why would you think that?" Lena asks.
"Cause this is the third time you've sighed in the last two minutes and you've been stabbing at your pizza with a fork," Hana says.
Lena frowns and looks at her half-eaten pizza again. She knows it's "authentic" and all, but it's just too different. The dough doesn't taste right, there's hardly any cheese on it, and the whole thing is dripping in olive oil.
"The mission went fine. I met the informant and everything," she says. "Not a single hitch. Nothing unexpected happened because of a certain sniper. That's for sure. All rainbows and sunshine. It was completely hunky dory. No problem, no problems at all."
"Are you being sarcastic or passive-aggressive because I can't tell," Hana asks.
"Honestly, I don't know anymore," Lena says leaning back over the couch arm.
"Uh-huh. So how badly did you mess up?"
Lena closes her eyes and sees the touring omnic drop to the floor (4 hours 18 minutes 16 seconds past), Mondatta's hand flopping lifelessly again and again on the news reports (11,130 hours past), hears the crack of Widowmaker's rifle, sees-hears-feels the bullet too close, far too close to her skin.
She drapes her arm over her face. She isn't going to be doing a lot of sleeping tonight.
"Can we talk about something else?" she asks from under her arm.
"Sure," Hana says, "How's Mrs. Blue Man Group Reject?"
"Eh, you know. Same old, same old." Lena sits back up. "She's still all 'I feel no emotions. Never mind that I throw a hissy fit whenever Ana is around. My gun is my only friend.' " Tracer kisses an imaginary rifle.
Hana giggles on screen.
"Ooh, do McCree next! No! Junkrat! No! Reaper!" Hana demands.
"From the shadows," Lena says in a preposterously deep voice, "Comes a gigantic butt." Hana snorts and spits out some of her drink. "Also," Lena continues, "I thought robbing a Halloween store would be a good way to hide my daddy issues."
Hana shakes with laughter. Behind her, chess pieces fly into the air and, Reinhardt lets out a happy roar. Lena smiles. If Angie were to walk by and tell her to get her shoes off the couch, she'd be right back at home. She waits for Hana to get her breath back before continuing.
"It wouldn't be so bad if she wasn't serious about it. Its one thing to have a persona for the public; it's another to be it."
Self-made gaming wizard, YouTube star, movie actress, and national icon Hana Song nods in understanding.
"But she is getting better right? I mean, the whole reason Spiderbitch is allowed out is because Mercy said therapy was working," Hana says.
"I guess? Maybe? I don't think her wanting to shoot me in the face is much of an improvement. That's pretty much what our entire relationship was founded on in the first place," Lena says frowning.
"What?"
"Oh you know, she shoots at me, I shoot at her, she says something in French, I kick her teeth in." Lena's grin turns predatory for a second. "She's my archenemy I'll have you know. Having a nemesis is the sign that you've made it as a hero."
"I hate to tell you this, but I'm pretty sure the Smurf considers Hanzo to be her archrival or whatever. With both of them being snipers with sticks up their rears and all."
"She's cheating on me!" Lena fake gasps. "Doesn't she know that will tear our family apart?"
Hana rolls her eyes and says, "Considering you called her a 'purple hourglass full of shite' I don't think she cares."
"Oi! She called Mei an orca. Nobody talks to Mei like that."
"And I'm pretty sure your girlfriend will tear you apart if she ever hears about this conversation."
Lena freezes.
"Ah. You won't tell Emily about this will you, luv?" She asks cautiously.
"Hmm. Depends. What's it to you?" Hana asks with a smug grin.
Lena pauses and then smiles much to Hana's confusion.
"Blackmail? Oh, Hana, I'm so proud," Lena coos.
"What?"
"Look at you. My little sis all grown-up."
"Stop."
"Such a milestone,"
"I am a legal ad- Oh, forget it."
"Gremlin's First Extortion. I think I might cry," she says wiping at a fake tear.
"Come on, Lena, its bad enough I get all that stuff from the old folks. I don't need it from you too," Hana growls.
"I only tease because I looooove you."
"I'm sorry to interrupt," Athena says. Her logo pulses gently in the corner of the screen. "But I finished reviewing the museum's video footage. I believe it is prominent that Lena sees the results."
"Sounds important," Hana says brightly, happy to leave her to do actual work. "Have fun with that. See you in a few days!"
Hana flashes a peace sign and ends the call before Lena can argue. Lena suppresses another sigh.
"Alright, luv. Let's see what you've got," she says to Athena.
[SAFE HOUSE - 20:50]
Widowmaker returns to the safe house to find Tracer sitting on the edge of the couch shouting at a football game on the TV.
"Go! Go! Go! No! Augh! You complete prat! I told you to watch your six!" Tracer yells.
Widowmaker sets her leftovers in the refrigerator. She notes that the unit is very sturdy, locks from the outside, and could hold an average sized person. She makes her way to the bathroom. Taking off the nanomask and changing into a fresh suit will be nice.
Tracer clears her throat. She stops in the doorway.
"So..." Tracer starts.
Widowmaker turns to face her. The announcers on the TV start screaming, the blue team scored a goal. Tracer frowns and turns down the volume. She refocuses on Widowmaker with a smile that has the faintest hint of embarrassment in it.
"So, um, it looks like I owe you an apology. Athena ran the security footage from the museum, and the omnic chap's movement patterns matched that of the same model only 12% of the time. Also, the body mysteriously vanished on its way to the hospital. That pretty much proves they weren't here on holiday."
Tracer pauses and crosses her arms before folding them behind her head only to lower them back to her sides. She pats her leggings a few times as if to give her hands a reason to be there.
"Shooting 'em was some quick thinking on your part. I'm going to need some sort of warning if you ever do that again. But, ah, you did good," Tracer says with a nod. And then a half nod as if to confirm with herself that this is the correct way to praise the rogue sniper.
Widowmaker can only hope that this exchange is as awkward for Tracer as it is for her. She will never shoot another Omnic again if she can avoid another conversation like this.
She leans against the doorframe and raises an eyebrow.
"I only did my best. As promised," she says.
"Well if nothing else today's debacle scared the bejeebers out of our target. He wants us to take him back to base ASAP. He'll send me his coordinates in the morning. I'll pick him up and bring him back here. I'd appreciate it if you'd cover me from the roofs again."
"And how is he going to contact you?"
"I slipped a comm in his jacket back when he dropped the keyword," Tracer says with a smile. "I still know a few tricks."
Tracer leans back and turns up the volume of the TV. Widowmaker pushes off the doorframe. She knows when she's been dismissed.
As always I'd love to hear what you think good or bad about my work.
Please PM me about any corrections grammar, spelling, translation or other problems.
9/25/17 I cut out a scene that was only added to make this chapter longer and I really didn't like.
/Widow and Hanzo are bros.
Welcome to the year 2078 where text messages look like 2005 chatrooms because I can't format.
Widowmaker sends blank text messages. They terrify everyone.
There are a lot of flashbacks coming up in the story. Seriously, if you don't like flashbacks turn back now.
FYI there's almost no pavement in Rome. It's all cobblestones all the time.
Even though the Overwatch Team as Family is highly unrealistic (in canon) I love it and you can pry it out of my cold dead hands.
Authentic Italian food is really good but it's also really different. You may not get what you think you're getting.
And so I join the "Make fun of Reaper's lines" bandwagon. /