Tracer sits in the far back of a van surrounded by crates of computer equipment, boxed supplies, and plastic explosives. Sombra occupies the wheel-less driverseat playing with multiple screens and occasionally yells at drivers despite the tinted soundproof glass. Reaper and Widowmaker are sitting further ahead of Tracer, reviewing floating schematics. They discuss plans in low tones. Every so often, Sombra shouts a suggestion back at them. The mercenary and hacker had cleaned up and Widowmaker has changed back into her catsuit. The assassin seems to be slipping back into old habits faster than Tracer would like.
She types out an upbeat message to Winston that's at odds with the butterflies in her stomach. Tracer tells him the VTOL has been compromised and she needs alternate transport. As soon as the message goes out her phone freezes up. She pokes at the screen in frustration when a block of blue text appears.
I must inform you this course of action is ill-advised.
Athena, Tracer recognizes with a bittersweet smile. Considering the amount of trouble she normally got herself into the poor girl must be worried half to death.
you gonna blow the whistle on me?
Unfortunately, that is no longer an option.
The Street Urchin uploaded a highly specialized virus into my distal systems. I cannot inform Overwatch members or allies about the appearance of [Retracted] and [Retracted]. Nor can I repeat their plans.
virus
you alright?
It has been isolated, and countermeasures are being employed.
I apologize for not warning you about the ambush. I have just now found a loophole that allows me to message you.
that's not your fault luv
Lena, I must emphasize it is highly probable I will not be able to alert the others of your location or condition if anything goes wrong. Therefore I would like to repeat.
This action is EXTREMELY ill-advised.
i know i know but i can't just sit back and do nothing
Your personality profile and records indicated as such. But I had to try.
Take care of yourself, Lena. For both your own and your family's sakes.
Tracer's heart clenches reading the last line. Whoever said AIs didn't have the same emotional intelligence as humans had clearly never been guilt tripped by one.
Widowmaker and Reaper end their conversation. Widowmaker walks over to her and sits down. Tracer plasters a smile on her face.
"Here," Widowmaker says handing her a black hoodie.
Tracer examines the gift.
"You know with all the black, purple, and edge I was feeling a little underdressed. Do you want me to change my name too?" she asks.
"You have a spotlight strapped to your chest. This is a covert operation. Do at least try to get it right."
Tracer sets the hoodie down and taps her watch. The shifting holo-rings of her Accelerator dissipate. Next, the blue light from the core dims before vanishing completely. The quantum parts of the machine still hum quietly on her chest.
"Handy," Widowmaker says in approval.
"Can be. Makes it harder to know when I'm out of juice."
"You know, I'm surprised at how fast you agreed to help wanted felons," Widowmaker says with a sideways glance, "Did the angel on your shoulder not put much of a fight?"
"Oi! I'm not helping; I'm supervising. I'm just making sure you lot don't run off and murder anyone or blow something up."
"You're going to be an accessory to a crime committed by international terrorists, one of which wants to destroy everything you stand for. It's very unlike you, Oxton."
Tracer grimaces, "What are you getting at?"
"Just making sure you haven't gotten any brilliant ideas about calling the police or trying to play hero."
"I wouldn't call the police with Reaper here!" Tracer balks. It would be a bloodbath. "And I'm not going to take him or anyone else on, not without proper backup. I like pushing the envelope, not bloody crashing the plane."
Tracer sighs and fiddles with her goggles.
"I don't think we can get out of Rome without help and you are going to do this... heist anyways. The least I can do is minimize the damage."
Widowmaker hums, accepting her explanation.
Tracer feels the van slow and glances up.
"Look alive losers! We're here!" Sombra calls out.
Widowmaker looks at the front doors of the building through the van's window. Sombra promises the external cameras can't see anything and there's no point in trying to hide the van.
"Sombra, how we doing?" Reaper asks.
"I'm in," Sombra says, tapping away on a holo-keyboard.
"Does she say that every time?" Tracer asks out of the corner of her mouth.
"Yes," Widowmaker says tiredly.
"Perimeter clear, cameras looping, doors open, security offline," Sombra says.
"Good," Reaper says opening the sliding door, "Move out."
He and Widowmaker step out of the van. Sombra exits through the driver's side.
Reaper turns back. "Shorty, keep the engine running. We'll be back in ten." He slams the door in Tracer's shocked face. There's a click as Reaper engages the child safety lock.
Sombra struts ahead through the front doors, disappearing with a wave of her fingers. Widowmaker falls instep besides Reaper. She takes in the building as they approach. It's a more modern, mainly concrete with stonework accents. A solid design, barely four stories tall. The exterior is decorated with several shades of beige. Not very creative, but not surprising considering the owners.
Widowmaker frowns, feeling the air shift in a way that normally signals the arrival of the annoyance. Sure enough, there's the sound of space-time flexing, and Tracer appears in front of Reaper, arms crossed and indignant. Widowmaker has to give her credit for keeping up the theme of daring stupidity.
"I am not staying in the van," Tracer says.
"Not my problem since you're not coming with us," Reaper says shoulders tight, a warning growl layering his words.
Reaper is restraining himself, but just barely. Tracer, of course, is oblivious to the fact that most people aren't as long suffering as her. Widowmaker sighs, drawing Reaper's attention. Red eyes stare down at her from the shadows of his mask.
"Do you remember what I said about it not being worth it to argue?" she asks rhetorically. "She wants to come along? She can come along. She gets hurt? She gets hurt."
Reaper fumes, smoke rising off him, but he snaps at Tracer, "Either be useful or stay out of our way."
Tracer frowns but nods. Reaper pushes past her, his haze becoming thicker until he dissolves completely. His smoke cloud slithers off to wherever Sombra sent him. Widowmaker walks past Tracer cutting off her view of Reaper and snapping her out of her daze. Widowmaker hears Tracer swear softly before following her into the building.
Widowmaker examines the building's lobby. Helix's logo is plastered everywhere; a blocky abstract statue stands in the center, leather couches surround Blackwood ottomans, the check-in-desk is dark marble. It's the typical bland pretty that managers think makes a good impression on investors.
"Che cosa- Arrestare!" shouts the woman behind the front desk.
As the only visible members of the party, their entrance hasn't gone unnoticed.
"Easy, easy," Tracer says raising her hands. "We're not going to hurt you."
The Helix employee sputters out something in Italian and scrambles around behind the desk. Sombra de-cloaks behind her and places a hand on the woman's shoulder.
"Sweet dreams," Sombra whispers. The Helix employee locks up and then slumps over.
Tracer flinches then rushes over to the desk. She touches gloved fingers to the woman's neck. After a moment she lets out a sigh of relief having found a pulse.
"You didn't bring me just to stand around and look pretty, did you?" Widowmaker asks, unimpressed by the little drama. The employee won't remember much when she wakes up. Even in its reduced form, Sombra's EMP tended to be a shocking experience.
"Nah, that's what Reaper is for," Sombra says sliding the woman's collapsed form out of the way so she can reach the terminal.
Tracer glares at Sombra, who ignores her. Reaper walks back into the lobby. He tosses a lanyard to Sombra and glances at the unconscious body, but doesn't say anything. Tracer takes a step back and looks over the group.
"I'm going to check for civilians," Tracer says, "Just. Just don't go anywhere. I'll be back in five seconds."
Tracer zips off. Widowmaker watches her dark blur flash down the hallways as Tracer flirts around the ground floor.
"Coms?" Widowmaker asks touching her ear.
"Off," Sombra replies behind the terminal.
Widowmaker turns to Reaper. His wisps have returned to their normal state, indicating he's calmed down.
"Thank you for not shooting her," Widowmaker says.
Reaper shrugs. "Not worth the effort or the ammo."
Widowmaker hums and Sombra meanders back over.
"So the crack Chihuahua isn't on your shit list? Why not?" Sombra asks.
Widowmaker studies Reyes. Tracer had literally been the poster girl for Overwatch during its Twilight years. But Reyes had never expressed the same hatred towards her that he did at Morrison and the other core members.
"Oxton was too naïve to believe in subterfuge and too stupid to pull it off. Doubt she ever knew what was really going on," Reyes says.
"Sounds about right," Sombra says. "I wonder what her face looked like when she learned about the leaks. Or when you died. Man, her expression must have been priceless."
The flashes of movement are coming back towards them. Widowmaker clears her throat. Sombra falls silent.
Tracer burst into the lobby pushing a bewildered janitor clutching to a wheeled office chair for dear life. The pair rushes past them and out the sliding doors. The doors don't even have time to close before Tracer blinks back into the lobby.
"Ground floor clear," Tracer says.
"Good job Speedy," Sombra says in a patronizing tone, "We'll get you a cookie later."
Tracer huffs and rolls her eyes but her jaw stays tight.
Sombra leads them away from the picturesque front into the side corridors. The group walks a maze of undecorated corridors that smell of floor wax until they reach the heart of the complex; a central room where four hallways converge.
Reaper drops into a crouch at the edge of their hallway and holds a fist into the air. The group stops behind him. Widowmaker turns on her visor and surveys ahead. Two unnaturally hot and unnaturally tall heat signatures guard a set of double doors. A set of 050-MOs; they were a humanoid-style omnics, a soldier class favored by Helix. The rest of the floor is empty. Everything is as it should be at half past five in the morning.
Widowmaker nods at Reaper and holds up her thumb and index finger for Sombra. The hacker pulls up a screen, on it wireframe versions of the guards appear. Tracer glares at Sombra and shakes one of her pistols, reminding the hacker she can blow their cover if Sombra tries anything funny.
Sombra rolls her eyes and taps out a command activating premade programs. The wireframes turn purple. The omnics' eyes flicker and then go out. Their heads drop, and the door opens behind them. Sombra sprints into the hallway, Widowmaker and Reaper on her heels; Tracer races after them.
Tracer makes it through right before the doors snap shut. They made it to the most secure part of the building, a concrete hallway that ends in a vault door. Widowmaker stays back and watches the Omnics' heat signatures through the walls. Sombra starts hacking the multiple scanners and ID checkers controlling the door. After a few minutes, Sombra lets out an "Aha!" Widowmaker hears a number of successive clunks as the internal bolts unlock. Finally, the fifteen cm blast resistant steel swings open to reveal their goal. An elevator.
With a little bow, Sombra steps aside to let Reaper approach. While the elevator itself is nothing special, it's protection mechanism is. This lock is purely mechanical, a puzzle-like contraption that has nothing for Sombra to hack; instead it requires four custom-made magnetic keys. Four keys that they do not have, nor know where they are (with their luck, hidden in four separate countries, no doubt).
Reaper guides his claws into the edges of the door. Silver tips glide along the seams. After a moment, Reaper nods and steps back. He dissolves into a cloud of black and grey nanites. The swarming mass slips under the edges at the bottom of the door.
But of course, if one circumvents the system altogether –
After a moment, the arrow lights up with a ding. All doors with accompanying locks slide open. Reaper's hand drops from the button pad.
"Going down?" he asks.
Everyone files in and they start their descent. The inside of the elevator is bare except for an ID checker, a fish lens, and a handful of buttons. There's no indication of how far they've descended or how far they have to go so Widowmaker settles in for the ride. The Muzak version of a song she liked in Lycèe plays over the speaker. Widowmaker frowns. She's getting old. Tracer glances around and then opens her mouth to say something. Widowmaker catches her eye and glares down at her. Tracer closes her mouth, apparently thinking better of it. The rest of the ride is silent.
Widowmaker feels the elevator slow and then stop. With a cheerful ding, the doors open revealing the Helix Security International Rome Master Sublevel.
"Oh, bloody hell," Tracer says, for once completely still.
The rest of the group walks around her out onto the observation platform. Widowmaker agrees with the sentiment.
Before them looms a thirty-story tower of black plastic and metal. Cables, CPUs, Motherboards, and thousands of other electronics flow together in an almost organic nature, creating the monstrosity.
Sombra struts out, her arms held out wide, like a ringmaster introducing the opening act.
"Welcome," she announces, "to Helix's dirty little secret. The Italian Omnium Mainframe."
The Mainframe stands in front of her like a leftover organ of some great beast. A shiver runs down Widowmaker's spine. The sheer size of an operational Omnium must have been breathtaking. Speaking of which, the Tower certainly requires a lot of open space.
Sombra takes in her audience's reaction.
"Stop looking so tense, Speedy. It's just a processor, not self-aware. Practically harmless. After the Italians ripped their Omnium apart, they had to put the pieces somewhere. Helix ended up keeping the best bits."
Reaper crosses his arms and growls in disgust, "Get on with it."
Widowmaker tears her eyes off the machine and copies Reaper's posture. She needs to focus. They were here to do things, not gawk like tourists.
"Fine, fine. No sense of presentation," Sombra mutters.
She frames the Tower with her fingers then pulls them apart, making a screen. Widowmaker sees it's a patchwork of different drawings melded together to make a complete blueprint. Sombra drags the image until it lines up with the Tower. She zooms in on a part and pokes at it until she's satisfied. With a tap, the screen stretches and then dissipates. Sombra reaches inside her coat and pulls out her Translocator.
"Araña, spot me," Sombra says, looking at Widowmaker.
Widowmaker touches the side of her visor. The lenses slide down bathing the world in red. A circulation duct on the Tower has been marked for her. She shifts her weight onto one foot and calculates.
"Distance ten meters, height thirty. Overshoot to the right to compensate for the air currents," Widowmaker says.
"Thank you," Sombra says passing her Translocator to her left hand.
"Here's the windup," Sombra stage whispers, pulling her knee and hand to her chest in an exaggerated motion, "And the pitch," Sombra explodes forwards, throwing the Translocator into the void.
The disk sails through the air and vanishes into the vent like a coin into a slot. Widowmaker switches to infrared and watches the marked Translocator fall. It slides and scrapes against the internal walls of the Mainframe. The disk hits a platform and bounces, rolling towards the edge. Sombra sucks in a breath, watching the visor's feed in her own eyes. The Translocator wobbles then drops flat stopping inches away from falling deeper into the Mainframe's core.
"GOOOOOOLLL!" Sombra shouts throwing her arms up in the air.
"That's the wrong sport," Tracer says.
"High fives!" Sombra turns her hands up. Widowmaker and Reaper each dutifully raise a hand; Sombra high-fives them both.
A shrill whistle emanates from the Mainframe. It builds in volume and is joined by other alarms of various pitches. Lines of cyan race up the Tower like nerve impulses. Far below them, at the Tower's base, hatches open and dozens of robotic ants spill out and start climbing up the sides.
"What did you do?" Tracer asks over the noise, flashes of neon blue reflecting on her goggles.
"Activated the Mainframe's protection protocols," Sombra says with a casual wave clearly enjoying Tracer's reactions. "It detected a breach. Don't worry; the alarm is isolated from the rest of the building. And it's just bots this time!"
Sombra turns to Widowmaker and Reaper.
"Everyone know what they're doing?" she asks.
"Yes," Widowmaker says.
Reaper grunts.
"No!" Tracer cries.
Reaper draws his shotguns and takes the catwalk that branches off from the platform. The catwalk continues to loop around the Mainframe a third of the way up. Meter long spindly legs poke over the railing as the swarm rises higher. Hellfire blasts ring out as Reaper picks off the bots crawling onto the catwalk. Behind him, Tracer is working her way through an extensive list of swears. Widowmaker rolls her eyes as she gets into position. She places one foot on the railing of the observation platform and checks that her rifle is secure.
"Why are you doing this?" Tracer asks, her voice rising, "What could you possibly have to gain? Is all this even necessary? Can't you just hack it?"
"Sure, but that takes forever and this is so much more fun," Sombra says before disappearing in a shower of purple pixels.
"More fun?"
Widowmaker glances over her shoulder with a smirk. "And here I thought you were some sort of adrenaline addict. So much for working well under pressure," she mocks, stepping up onto the railing.
Tracer straightens up at the accusation. Widowmaker swandives off the platform before Tracer can respond.
Widowmaker lets the wind rush around her for a moment before raising her hand and firing her grappling hook. There's a firm yank in her left arm, and then she's flying up into the air. Her body adjusts itself accordingly, left shoulder relaxed, so the joint isn't pulled out of its socket. Breathe in and hold; keep her core tight, so the wind isn't ripped out of her.
There's a click in her ear as the coms turn back on.
"Time to get this party started," Sombra says, "Reaps, Widow. Remember you don't have to kill everything, just keep it away from me. I can't really hack while using all my processing power to get through the Mainframe's firewalls."
Widowmaker looks over and sees Sombra's green outline deep within the colossal pillar. The hacker is cramped, wedged between terminals, clearly in a place no one was supposed to access.
The sniper turns her head upward. She's reaching the end of her line. Widowmaker points her toes and swings her legs up. She lines up her muscles, bones, and tendons just right so her body soars. Oh, it's been so long since she got to move. She launches herself feet first into the air. Her hook releases and Widowmaker readies her gun as momentum flips her back into an upright position.
In front of her, slots on the peaks of the Tower open. Eight Red-Tailed flying drones the size of mastiffs rise into the air. At the apex of her ascent, Widowmaker hangs weightless and fires.
Two drones drop onto the Tower's roof, dead. The others turn, locking onto her. They have a slower reaction time than the newer versions. Gravity's pull returns. Widowmaker plummets.
The drones dive after her and open fire. Sombra said the defenses weren't very smart. They'll go after the biggest threat and ignore everything else. The wind rushes around her, pulling at her sides and making her ponytail snap like a flag. Widowmaker lines up one more shot. A drone veers off smoking heavily. This she knows how to do.
Her grappling hook buries itself in the basement ceiling and Widowmaker kicks her legs out, abruptly changing direction. A horizontal shower of pulse shots flies past her. She glances down. Black ants are flooding the looping walkway. Reaper and Tracer clumsily dance around each other destroying the bots. The sounds of battle echo upwards. The Tower's alarms, Reaper's shotguns, Tracer's pistols, metal being crushed underfoot.
"How's everybody doin'?" Sombra asks in her ear.
A wall of white concrete is rapidly filling her vision. Widowmaker brings herself parallel and hits the wall running, ignoring the stiffness in her joints. The steel-alloy claws of her boots dig in while her line takes most of her weight.
"This is target practice," Widowmaker says running. A barrage of bullet holes appears in her wake.
"These things are annoying but not durable. It's under control," Reaper says.
"Well, none of this was designed for you guys. Still, don't get cocky."
"Look who's talking," Widowmaker mutters. That earns her a bark of laughter from Reaper.
Feeling the heat of pulse rounds on her back, she drops off the concrete back into the void.
"How long do we have before this is noticed?" Tracer questions.
"Afraid we're going to run out of time?" Sombra asks.
Widowmaker adjusts her grappling mount, letting out more line to increase the circumference of her swing.
"Am I the only one taking this seri- Ow! Reaper shot me!"
The swarm adjusts, but not fast enough. Widowmaker's drop in speed and position puts her under the group. Pointing her toes, she leans back and uses centrifugal force to keep her rifle pressed into her shoulder. Widow's Kiss has been specially designed with virtually no recoil so she can do things like this.
"You'd know if I shot you," Reaper says, "Stop blinking around, and I won't clip you."
The shot rings out and Widowmaker pulls her knees to her chest. She flies upwards leaving her stomach behind. The drones pull out of their dive trying to follow.
"Start aiming, and I won't have to blink around."
Reaper and Tracer continue arguing about who's being the bigger problem. This dissolves into insults and name-calling, including Widowmaker's personal favorites: Rocket Corgi and Halloween Town Reject. Considering it's no worse than Reaper and Sombra's usual squabbles, Widowmaker ignores it.
Widowmaker repositions her grapple and swings in close to the Tower. The pulse fire tapers off. The drones don't want to hit the Mainframe. She glances over. Her blurry image is repeated in the reflective surfaces of sheets of metal and plastic, occasionally interrupted by flashes of blue. She reaches out letting her gloved fingers skim the surface of the Mainframe. A pale figure with blood red eyes reaches back.
"Araña, you've got bogies."
Widowmaker pulls her hand back and switches to infrared. Above her, through the Tower, she sees the red outline of two drones. They must have broken off and circled around.
"Ah,'bogies', that's a fun word."
The blind spot created by the corner ahead makes a good place for an ambush. Widowmaker smiles. A swing of her legs and a twist of her wrist reels her in while keeping close to the Tower. She reaches the end of the side and cuts her line.
The drones glide around the corner; turrets aimed where she should have been. Widowmaker descends on them like a bird of prey. The claw of her grappling hook flies past the first drone and latches onto the second one with a crunch. She drops, arms back, legs locked. Widowmaker hits the first drone.
Her heels shatter the arm connecting the right propeller to the chassis. Her mount wizzes, guiding her into the second. Her feet slam into its top, denting the metal. The drone bobs and weaves, losing altitude. Above her, she hears the turret guns of the swarm warming up. The rest must have processed that their friends are done for. Time to go. Widowmaker launches out of her crouch. Jumping she yanks on the line, ripping the second drone's CPU into the air.
Gunfire rains down on her. Widowmaker chuckles, aiming her grappling mount. This had been a magnificent idea.
Tracer hops out of the way of the incoming metal pincers. The mandibles snap shut as the ant drone lunges forward, leaving it's back open. Tracer blinks behind it and empties her clip at the weak spot. A geyser of sparks erupts from the bot's plating. The ant falls to the floor with a clang, the last one of this wave. Tracer brings her pistol to her lips and blows pretend smoke off the barrel. Taking time to enjoy a self-indulgent moment of victory.
At a corner Reaper bodily slams his last bot into the railing, repeatedly. Only when the ant can do little more than twitch does he drop it. The mercenary rolls his neck eliciting a crack that carries over the platform. Tracer shutters.
Reaper turns his head and his mask looks in her direction. Without any change in demeanor, he aims one of his shotguns at her. Tracer's eyes widen. Her Accelerator whirls back to life and she blinks away. A thunderous roar rings out and an ant drone crumples. It had been climbing up a maintenance ladder behind her.
"Missed one," Reaper growls, "Stay alert. I'm not here to babysit you."
Tracer's brow furrows pulling her eye protection down. Honestly, she doesn't know what she expected but apparently, manners and logical plans are too much to ask of some people. She nudges her goggles back up with her shoulder. A strange scratching-clanking sound rebounds from under them deep within the Tower. Tracer snaps her wrist skywards, rewinding her pistols. The next wave is coming.
Reaper tosses aside his shotguns and pulls another pair out of thin air. Past him, sections of the path shake as the bots swarm, crawling over each other, surging onto the walkway.
"Reaper," Widowmaker announces over the coms, "Heads up."
Tracer charges at the enemies, only to be stopped by Reaper's outstretched arm. She glares at him.
Reaper's mask is tilted upwards. Tracer follows his gaze in time to see a hunk of parts the size of a football lands on the walkway. It bounces once and rolls towards the swarm. There's a crunch as a leg skewers it. The horde of ants marches onward unperturbed but then Tracer hears something. The sound of something much bigger falling.
A 782-Redtailed drone drops out of the sky. It slams into the swarm like a bowling ball into a row of pins, sending metallic bodies skyward. Metal tears with a screech as the collision takes the walkway corner with it.
Reaper lowers his arm.
After a few seconds, the sound of metal cracking and the start of several electrical fires rebounds off the basement's floor.
"Ves, te dije que, Ziegler sabe lo que está hacienda," Sombra says.
"Hmm," Reaper rumbles craning his neck backward.
Tracer looks up. Squinting, she can make out Widowmaker's figure between the glare of the lights. The sniper dips and twists and swoops out of the way of gunfire with more flair than Tracer's ever seen. She watches another Redtail drone fall accompanied by Widowmaker doing a number of unnecessary flips. Using her thumb Tracer pushes her earpiece snug. Ignoring the Tower's sirens, she strains her ears for something from Widowmaker's channel.
Widowmaker's next hairpin turn is joined by a stifled laugh. Her grappling hook latches onto a wall, and the sniper lets out a soft "woo" as she shoots up in the air.
"Was she like this," Tracer asks quietly, "when she worked with you?"
"I've never seen her like this," Reaper answers soaking in the distant performance.
Unnoticed by the two fighters, a pair of onyx antenna peaks over a corner of the Tower's side. The antennas twitch and then retreat. The owner of the probes climbs back from the edge and turns to two other bots, relaying its information. The three bots survived by chance. They were on the Mainframe's side when the railing was ripped away.
A short discussion is held. They conclude such a small group will not have a chance killing the intruders. Being unable to fulfill their main objective [Protect] they switch to their secondary objective [Repair].
Eighteen needle-like legs fit into grooves between the Mainframe's plates. The three ants begin climbing to remove the contaminant far above.
The only surviving Redtail is pursuing her with renewed abandon, Widowmaker notes, switching back to purely evading. She swings into one of the walls. Her boots allow her to perch for a moment. It might be offended that all its siblings are dead. She pushes off. Gunfire fills her shadow full of holes. Pain flares in her calf. Or it might be desperate now that it's the only one left.
Widowmaker bares her teeth in a grin. She's so missed the thrill of the hunt. With a flick, she repositions her hook above the Tower. Widowmaker twists her wrist three times, shifting the mount to its highest gear, and is yanked towards the ceiling at breakneck speed. The drone's engine screams as it shoots up after her.
Her reflection is a smear of colors as Widowmaker whips around the Mainframe. Behind her, the drone roars like a massive angry hornet. Together they spiral upwards, faster and faster. Each revolution becomes tighter and tighter, neither gaining nor losing ground.
Almost there. Widowmaker switches to infrared. She slides her rifle off her back. Just a little bit further. Black spots flash in the edge of her vision. She pushes the stock into her shoulder and adjusts her grip. Widowmaker raises her rifle just as she becomes level with the circulation duct marked by her visor. She pulls the trigger.
The bullet leaves her barrel, enters the vent, flies over Sombra, across the Tower, exits through a mirror vent, and cuts into the Redtail drone on the opposite side.
"Hey! Watch the hair," Sombra chastises.
Widowmaker lets out a sharp laugh watching the red outline of her final adversary plunges. She slows then pauses her mount, stopping her ascent. Widowmaker swings a leg up and wraps the line around her ankle to give her shoulder a break. Holding her rifle against the small of her back and the crooks of her elbows, she lets herself swing.
Her remaining momentum carries her in wide, lazy circles. Widowmaker silently chuckles to herself, enjoying the rush of a job well done. She closes her eyes and listens to the measured pulse pounding in her ears and catches her breath. She completed a job no one else could do. Widowmaker lets out a content sigh. The only way this could be better is if she was actually killing someone. When was the last time she had this much fun?
Widowmaker opens her eyes.
Fun?
She unhooks her ankle and drops down on the pyramid roof of the Mainframe.
When was the last time she did something for pure enjoyment? Nothing came close to rivaling the thrill of a mission. Nothing. But doing things with Reaper or Sombra was nice. And back at Talon, she had a king's ransom to spoil herself on her off days. But fun?
"... something below me. Araña, I'm going to need you..."
Surely, something she'd done last year outside of missions had been more than just nice.
"Hey, hey, Azul? Azul."
She, she can't think of anything-
"Widow!"
Widowmaker shakes her head. Sombra's been yelling at her.
"Any time now," Sombra says her voice rising an octave.
Widowmaker sprints to the edge of the Mainframe and slides into a kneeling position. She puts her scope to her face. Several stories below her three ant drones have climbed up the tower and are digging through its outer shell. Sombra's green outline has pushed herself as far back in her niche as she can.
Her diamond sight floats over the leading bot's center.
"Not like my life is in danger or anything."
The ants' pincers rip away the last bit of outer plating.
Inhale.
The lead ant draws back one of its front legs, like a soldier priming a spear.
"Mierda."
Exhale.
Sombra twists out of the way, barely avoiding being skewered.
Widow's Kiss makes a polite cough, and then there's a brand new hole in all three bots, one after another, the robotic limb of the lead bot sliding out of the hole it just created. Sombra's outline slumps against the inner parts of the Mainframe as the bots tumble away.
"One shot, three kills," Widowmaker says.
"Cut that one a little close there, Widow."
A ding filters through the coms.
"Aaaaannnndd now it's done. Of course, after the killer robots wise up."
Sombra mutters in Spanish. After a moment Widowmaker sees Sombra's arm protrude from the hole in the Tower.
"Reaper if you let me turn into a smear I'm never resurrecting ancient music for you again."
Sombra snaps her wrist and flings her Translocator like it was a multimillion-euro Frisbee. Reaper has made his way back to the elevator's platform. He raises a clawed hand and snatches the disk out of the air. He drops the beacon on the floor, and Sombra appears seconds later. Tracer is picking her way through the carnage making her way to the exit as well.
The alarms and sirens start to die off as the Tower processes that Sombra is no longer inside it, but it will stay lit up like a Christmas tree for a while. After they leave the ant bots will collect and recycle the scrap on the basement floor. Not quite the perfect crime but everything should be back to normal long befor anyone checks.
Widowmaker shoulders her rifle and slips off the edge of the Tower. She plummets towards the ground every so often using her grappling hook to slow her descent.
"Reaper, if you would, please," she says.
There's a sound of acknowledgment in her ear.
Reaper steps away from the elevator and raises his hands. Widowmaker cuts her line angling her body towards the platform. Toes pointed, arms lifted, she falls the last few meters towards Reaper. He catches her around her waist and lowers her to the ground.
"Merci," Widowmaker says touching down.
Widowmaker snaps her ponytail over her shoulder and walks to the elevator.
"I still don't understand how you can do that in heels," Sombra comments, working on tweaking the security systems.
"It's as you said, ma chère, I'm a professional," Widowmaker purrs.
Translations
Che cosa- Arrestare! – (Italian) What- Stop!
Lycèe – (French) High School
Araña – (Spanish) Spider
Ves, te dije que, Ziegler sabe lo que está hacienda – (Spanish) See, I told you, Ziegler knows what she's doing.
Azul – (Spanish) Blue
Merci – (French) Thank you
Betaed by Mint Leaf
Edited 5/1/18 Betaed by Dot
Edited 7/22/18
Thank you to everyone who comments or follows this story.
As always, please let me know if you see any errors.
/Thank you to Holy–Moly-batman for your very kind words. I don't think I'm a Vinci but I'm glad you're enjoying the story.
A question that you may have - What are the background/implied ships in Sass?
None? All? Whatever you want?
Amélie/Gerard and Lena/Emily will be the only pairs explicitly stated. I'm not huge into shipping and I think the various alliances/friendships/mentorships between the Overwatch cast are interesting enough by itself.
Finals are fast approaching and Life is happening honestly that means there will probably be another hiatus soon./
Tracer: I'm the voice of reason
Tracer: I should NEVER be the voice of reason
A List of Canon Things Widowmaker Has Done
- Climbed to the top of building
- Took out all the rooftop guards mostly by doing flips
- Jumped off the perfectly good building
- To shoot at her target, while hanging from her grappling line, upside down
- Ended up shooting her target while in midair