Name: Oxton, Lena. Occupation: Unknown. Status: Alive.
Name: Tracer. Occupation: Adventure, Hero for Hire. Status: Annoyance.
I've realized this fic could have also been titled Tracer and the Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Mission.
"You know, I was just thinking about how punchable your face is," Tracer says from her position of hanging upside down, swinging gently from only a meter above the balcony to four floors above the street below.
What a coincidence, Widowmaker muses adjusting her grip on the line that is keeping the Speedster suspended in the air causing Tracer to resemble an upside down piñata.
"How did you manage to do this?" Widowmaker demands.
"I do a lot of things," Tracer says with a shrug, "be more specific."
"Pharah and Genji were supposed to retrieve the asset. Not you, not me, and most certainly not both of us together. What were you even thinking?"
Tracer crosses her arms and starts rotating away from Widowmaker. "I was thinking this would take seven hours total since you are very good at staying on task."
"So you just assumed that it would all be smooth sailing?" Widowmaker says with a faux smile. "Hoped everything would go off without a hitch? Did you even try to come up with a contingency plan?"
Tracer rights herself by grabbing the railing so she can glare at Widowmaker. "I had no way of knowing Reaper and Sombra would show up. And you try predicting a paranoid assassin with a twenty-four seven poker face."
"Just tell me why you did this."
Tracer glances away. "Can you let me down? It's kinda a long story."
With a sigh, Widowmaker snaps her wrist back.
Tracer drops and uses the railing to twist herself around, landing on her feet. While Tracer works to get the grappling crawl to release her ankle, Widowmaker sets her rifle down on the bed. She's not trying to start a fight; they still have a truce, but she needs to focus on something else than the mess of information Sombra dug up. Just for a bit. Widowmaker also grabs her pack of synthettes off the nightstand. Her body is sore, her head hurts, and she's not going to have access to wine for several hours; she's going to need something to get through this. She'll take the damn placebo effect over nothing.
Stepping back onto the balcony, Widowmaker flicks her wrist whipping the line off the artistic hooks of the railing above them. The grappling claw reels back into place with a click. She closes the door behind her.
Tracer glances at the synthetic cigarette in her hand and scowls. "Do you have to do that now?"
"Yes. Now explain yourself."
Tracer shuffles her feet and rubs at the back of her head.
The tip of the cigarette lights up blue as Widowmaker twists the filter to the 'on' position. The pack feels lighter than it should. Holding the cigarette in her teeth, she takes a quick count; the pack is half gone, which means she is going through these too quickly. Well, she does have a lot on her plate at the moment. She'll take a break when they get back.
"I just don't get you, all right?" Tracer starts, "I mean, it's not like you woke up one morning and decided to blow up the Swiss Base, but you killed Mondatta just because Talon wanted it."
Everything always comes back to that damned Omnic.
Widowmaker doesn't even have to hide any of her tells. She knows other snipers' marks haunt them, that they can never forget the faces of those they kill, but Widowmaker never had that problem. The shot that took Mondatta out was a work of art, but for his actual death, she felt nothing, like she always does.
"So what? You want me to lie and give you an apology?" Widowmaker asks.
"I want you to listen," Tracer replies.
"I always say Mondatta was an inspiration to me, and that's true, but there's more to it than that. I supported Mondatta, I mean, of course I did. What type of hero are you if you don't support equal rights? But I didn't like everything he said." Tracer smiles bitterly. "Born 'n raised in London after all, that grand ol' place that forced Omnics to make the Underground. And also, people forget cause I look like I'm twelve, but I fought the Null Sector. I saw my home burn. I tasted its ashes in my mouth." Tracer hunches her shoulders. "That gets in you."
"The Shambali, Mondatta, and their followers proved there were still people who were making an impact. I know because they caused me to take a long hard look in the mirror and find some beliefs rooted in ugly things. Mondatta was inspiring people to work for change the right way, without guns and threats, something I wasn't sure would be possible after the Null Sector attacks. And then you killed him."
Tracer's eyes catch fire in the sunlight, changing from brown to a molten bronze.
"The Shambali live in an isolated monastery. Mondatta inspired peaceful protests. They've never done anything to you. What kind of-" Tracer catches herself remembering who her audience is.
"No, go on," Widowmaker says, "Tell me how you really feel."
Tracer huffs and ignores her. "What kind of person does that? How could anyone do that?"
This is the part where Widowmaker's supposed to say Talon forced her to kill and that she regrets Mondatta's death. Only she wasn't and she didn't. Aside from her induction Talon never forced her to do anything. She took the job in hopes that such an important target's security would provide a challenge. A thrill.
(History loves its martyrs but there is a reason they are martyrs. Peaceful 'progress' is a lovely fantasy, but human nature refuses to let it happen. An Omnic out of all people should have seen that, should have been smarter, should have done more than inspire a following based on empty promises.)
Widowmaker absentmindedly rubs at her wrists glancing Tracer over. Still so naïve, even after everything she's been through, even after Overwatch and the UN was exposed, she still doesn't recognize they both just are ultimately pawns being pushed around as larger powers at be uses various organizations to achieve their whims.
But Tracer is making a distinct effort rather than just yelling at her, so Widowmaker throws her a bone.
"Alright," Widowmaker says, "I'll think about that."
Tracer stares at her before looking away with a sigh. "I'll admit I was hoping for a bit more of a reaction."
"I think I've been plenty reactive-"
Everything clicks into place.
Tracer has been needling her, not only for revenge, but because she wanted her to do something. It's Sombra all over again. Such a tactic is decidedly underhanded for the Speedster. Widowmaker is impressed. But that doesn't mean she's not petty.
Widowmaker grabs an upper and lower extraneous strap of Tracer's harness, rears back- "Wait, wait!" Tracer screams. –and chucks Tracer off the side of the building like a very loud and obnoxious piece of luggage.
Her projectile of choice drops out of view before a streak of blue follows the same path shoots up and back onto the balcony.
"That was for your jokes," Widowmaker tells Tracer when she's standing again.
"Feel better?" Tracer quips. Her stance is loose and ready, waiting to see what Widowmaker's next move is.
"Maybe," Widowmaker says. "So," she uncrosses her arms, leans back on the railing, giving Tracer her full attention, "what have you learned during your time of trying to drive me to the edge of sanity?"
She suffered for this; she wants to know the results.
"Um," Tracer fiddles with her straps, "you're friends with Sombra and Reaper. Didn't see that coming."
Widowmaker scoffs. "They are allies at best. Just because I can work with someone doesn't mean I enjoy their company. We come from very different social circles."
Widowmaker has long perfected the skill of having civil conversations with people she'd rather see bleeding out in a ditch. Being a prisoner under Overwatch was a vacation compared to the alternatives. Veiled threats and insults, oh no, however shall she survive?
Tracer stares at her like she's trying to judge how dense she is.
"Widowmaker," Tracer says slowly, "you have friends. Allies drop you like a stone as soon as they don't need you or your interest stop lining up. Friends stick with you and make sacrifices for you even when it doesn't benefit them. Sombra and Reaper are doing that for you, I've seen 'em do it, and I'd bet you've done that for them too."
Widowmaker keeps her face neutral. "Sombra's latest 'friend' died when his pacemaker mysteriously failed. Reaper has devoted this part of his life to hunting down and killing people he used to consider family."
"Wow." Tracer makes a face. "Okay, you need better friends. But they still are your friends."
"Hmm." Widowmaker exhales a stream of smoke.
"You realized that just makes you look like a prick, right?" Tracer asks, wrinkling her nose at the dissipating vapor.
Widowmaker cracks a smile. "And here I was going for a different effect entirely. I'll keep that in mind. Now keep talking."
"Um, well, Cap had some interesting things... to... say..." Tracer trails off as her brain catches up with her mouth. Her lips press together into a thin line waiting to see if Widowmaker is going to explode on her.
"I'm aware you've been informed about the past," Widowmaker waves the statement away, "And I assure you the feeling is mutual."
Emotions were still bullshit, but Widowmaker most certainly felt a strong negative one when she learned the entire Overwatch crew had been debriefed on what happened to the Lacroixs.
As for Ana, she took Gérard under her wing soon after meeting him. The old Captain saw a lot of herself in him, bird of feather and all that. Widowmaker wonders if Ana's insistence on "adopting" the newer recruits was maternal instinct or a way to make up for being an absentee parent.
It wasn't that Ana hinted that Gérard deserved better, it was that Ana acted like Amélie didn't know it.
Apparently deciding that Widowmaker is not about to throw her off the building again, Tracer pushes her luck. "Angela said that Amélie would have never hurt Gérard."
Widowmaker covers and uncovers the glowing tip of her cigarette, watching her thumb change from plum to a glowing violet before replying, "Angela is correct."
Tracer sputters out, "Do you want to expand on that?"
"No. But I'll give you, ah," Widowmaker rolls her cigarette between her fingers, "five more questions. Don't waste them."
Tracer gapes at her before exploding, "What is your deal with me!"
"You're like a Sombra I can shoot."
"And yet here I am very not full of holes," Tracer's hand sweeps over her midsection, "not buying it." Then her eyes light up. "So much for One shot, one kill," she says in a bad French accent, "More like, Forty-seven shots, no kills. Talk about false marketing."
"You have never been a primary target," Widowmaker snaps, "I can waste all the bullets on you I want." She sighs and recomposes herself. "In London, you're a big fish in a little pond, but outside your little bubble you are a small prize."
Tracer bristles but Widowmaker cuts her off, "It's a statement not an insult and it's what has been keeping you and your loved ones alive."
"Historically speaking," she continues, "I could have dismembered you or shot you with a t-shirt cannon and the consequence would be the same. My superiors didn't care how I handled complications as long as I performed up to standards. Besides, you've never done much to me."
"I almost blew you up!"
Widowmaker arches an eyebrow. "Keyword, almost. I expect nothing less from an enemy in combat. Fantastic idea using a pulse bomb in a highly populated area, by the way."
"Shaped charge, airborne, no shrapnel," Tracer shoots back.
"Hmmm." Widowmaker rolls her neck in an attempt to loosen up her shoulders. If she were to guess, she'd say Tracer was stalling that night. Distracting her, moving her away from her target. There was a good-sized crowd at the rally. All Mondatta had to do was get in his protected limo. "Anyways, it's not like you've beaten me when it counts."
"And you're sure living the good life now, ain't cha," Tracer says through a smile that's all teeth.
Widowmaker wonders if anyone has ever told her how disturbing that is. Smiling when she clearly wants to rip someone's face off.
"Then there's that," she points lazily, "You hate me. You had the opportunity to make my life miserable for months. But you didn't."
Tracer deflates slightly. "Because you were cooperating."
"Exactly," Widowmaker replies. "You understand that there are limits, there are rules, that sometimes it isn't worth it. If, for example, the Doomfist gauntlet had been a fake or the museum caught fire we would have both agreed that we had better thing to be doing than keep shooting at each other."
"Uh, yeah," Tracer says, an unspoken 'duh' underlining her words.
Widowmaker shakes her head. "Common sense is anything but. Not everyone in our profession gets that there's more nuance to the job than just using brute force to crush your enemies. But you've proven you do by repeatedly de-escalating situations when you can."
Tracer chews on that for a moment.
Widowmaker doubts Tracer understands how much she appreciates this. She is very aware how differently this could have gone if 76 was here instead. She is quite happy not to be heavily concussed and handcuffed to a fence while Soldier 76 and Reaper have an Old Man Smackdown Three.
Speaking of some fights not being worth it... "Your 'guests' will be heading out soon," Widowmaker adds.
"You sure Edge Lord and Sombrero won't need a little extra persuasion?" Tracer asks.
"If you want to start a firefight with Reaper I'm sure he'll humor you."
Tracer blanches. "No, no, that's fine. You gonna go with them?"
"Soon," Widowmaker looks out at the street, "For now I'm heading back to Gibraltar. I'd like to catch a ride with you, assuming you'll let me."
Widowmaker thinks Tracer's eyebrows might fly off her face.
"Statement, not a question." Tracer holds up a finger and then points it at her. "I don't understand why you would do that."
"You are my most reliable choice for transportation."
Tracer squints at her suspiciously. She must have told Overwatch about her episodes by now. Widowmaker understands she won't be receiving a warm welcome.
"I have affairs I need to put in order," Widowmaker explains, "I believe the rest falls under patient confidentiality, but I think you'll understand that I much rather be seen by someone who didn't get their Doctorate by paying for it on the Internet."
That gets Tracer's attention and she starts fidgeting again.
Watching Widowmaker's reaction like a hawk the finally asks, "Are you going hurt Angela in any way, shape, or form?"
"She's keeping me alive," Widowmaker deadpans.
Tracer seems to find this acceptable and lets the matter drop.
The Speedster makes a thoughtful face, pursing her lips and furrowing her brow. She counts out how many questions she's used, ticking them off one by one. Tracer holds up four fingers. Widowmaker nods in confirmation.
"If," Tracer starts, "Talon and Overwatch didn't exist but I still had this," she points at the blue core on her chest, "and you were still a sniper would be we still be enemies?"
Widowmaker's train of thought promptly derails itself as the cars fly apart in a million different directions. If that was, reality everything would be different. The Crisis, politics, her occupation, Gerard. Everything. Would "she" even exist? The sythette starts trembling in her grasp.
Tracer is still waiting for a response.
"Of course," Widowmaker says moving the synthette to her lips.
Instead of looking dejected, Tracer's expression changes into a grin. "You hesitated."
"It –it was a complex question."
"You had to think about it," she continues, delighted.
All right, she's been patient long enough; the nicotine should kick in fifteen minutes. Social nicety time is up. Widowmaker slides open the door and grabs her rifle.
"I have redeeming qualities," Tracer says in a singsong voice.
"You are insufferable," Widowmaker huffs.
She plants a foot on the railing and she fires grappling hook. As Widowmaker is yanked away she shows Tracer the universal gesture, the bird. Widowmaker knows Tracer has to have seen it but strangely enough she hears Tracer let out a bark of laughter as she glides off to the neighboring rooftops.
Thank you for reading!
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Betaed by Dot and 2JRC6
/I think this is the first chapter without any translations. Huh./
Tracer Stats
Gumption – 6
Chutzpah – 5
Moxy – 8
Childlike Wonder – 7
The Cut of My Jib – 9
A Certain Je Ne Sais Quoi – 3
(Charisma – over 900)
*
Sombra: Hey Reaper can you get me an up dog?
Reaper: Sure.
Sombra: No I mean can you hand me my up dog?
Reaper: Your up dog?
Sombra: Yeah you know an up dog.
Reaper: Just one up dog?
Sombra: Uh.
Reaper: You know I practically raised Jesse right?
Sombra: Hey Widow can you hand me that up dog?
Widow:
Widow: No.
Reaper from another room: Give it a rest Sombra.
Widow: Your only redeeming quality is that you don't know what memes are.
-Deleted Scene-
Widowmaker blows a cloud of smoke at Tracer and she speedfans it right back into Widow's face.
Most FanFic Widowmaker
- Mysterious
- Sad
- Dangerous
- Beautiful
Sass! Widowmaker
- Would you prefer verbal or physical shots fired?
- I am I overly dramatic? Yes. It is justified? Also yes.
- Wow. That looks like not my problem.
- (Also sad)
Spiders aren't a particularly aggressive species, even towards humans. Just thought that was interesting.