Noun - the point at which something, typically something unwelcome, is about to happen.
An overstuffed calzone spins behind the protective mesh wiring in the microwave window. Tracer pops the door open just as the timer hits 0:00. She prods the center of the calzone; still cold.
She slides the plate back in. As the timer counts down again Tracer unholsters her pistols, brings her arms back so they fall into her hands, then snaps her hands up, spinning the pistols on her index fingers. The trick takes a bit of concentration which helps ignore the hunger gnawing at her stomach and the word Event pounding in her head.
It was another time-space traveler thing. Sometimes she would get this feeling, an alert almost, that something pivotal was about to happen. But it was still squishy, able to be influenced, for better or for worse. She normally got a sense of the location and time but it wasn't reliable; sometimes it was for something off in Uruguay or a few hundred years in the future. Her weird seventh sense was one of the reasons she knew that the tip about the Mondatta rally was good. Unfortunately, it presented itself as a headache for some reason, which meant whatever is happening in Naples several hours out is high on the list of things Tracer was Not Dealing with Today.
Speaking of headaches, Reaper lets out an unnecessarily loud sigh from the living room. Tracer shoots him a glare and returns to waiting on her food, sticking to her plan of refusing to let Reaper frighten her. Well, what he's capable of scares her, but Tracer is not about to let him bully her in her own safe house.
"Chillax Reaps. La viuda regresa pronto," Sombra mutters from the couch still working on decoding what she stole. She rolls her eyes and gives Tracer a look as if to say, Goths, right?
The microwave beeps alerting everyone that her food is done. Tracer opens the door while it continues to let out shrill noises.
Reaper groans. "Make that thing shut-up."
"It's a microwave," Tracer shoots back.
She turns to Reaper ready to launch into a speech about how household appliances don't to respond to threats when a movement in the windows catches her eye. The fraction of a second it takes her eyes to focus reveals it's not so much movement as it is some weird refraction or color distortion.
But they're on the fourth floor; what could possibly be up here?
Oh.
Tracer yanks down her goggles as her Accelerator jumps from stand by to second gear.
F-
The balcony door explodes.
A dull bang pops Tracer's ears. Panes of glass break all at once, sounding like a china cabinet falling over. The wood frame shatters sending splinters of painted wood and sawdust into the room.
"BREACH!" Reaper roars, launching himself at Sombra. His weight overturns the couch and takes both of them to the ground. Tracer open fires at the hazy distortion on the balcony. A silver canister is lobbed back in response. Tracer drops behind the island. A wall of light and sound erupts from the canister.
Surprise attack. Stealth tech. Controlled entry. Professionals. Tracer's brain spits out the thoughts like bullet points. Stupid, she berates herself. She should have recognized that her gut had been telling her something was off. She thought it was just because she was so close to Reaper. Her ears are ringing, but the island protected her eyes. The afterimage in the edges of her vision will fade in five seconds. She has two options, run or fight.
Tracer blinks around the island and takes stock of the situation.
By the couch groups of pulse rifle shots appear out of the air, advancing towards Reaper. The mercenary lunges forward, his midsection smoking, swiping at the air before he makes contact with a cloaked gun. His metal fist smashes into one of the soldier's head, causing their stealth tech to flicker.
Next to the hole in the wall a tripod stands in the middle of Sombra's data. Purple documents flex and warp before dissolving into pixels while grey doubles of other screens pop into existence. Sombra herself is nowhere to be seen.
Shifting debris and gunshots alerts Tracer to a cloaked soldier advancing towards her. She zips away and returns fire. Her shots fly harmlessly through the air while pulse shots starts coming from her left. Tracer dips and dodges, firing back sporadically, trying to pin down her invisible opponent. She doesn't have enough space to outmaneuver him. She's going to have to think up something really clever-
Instincts urge Tracer to jump back as the hotel's fridge door opens, water bottles and food still inside fly past her and slam into her opponent, pinning him to the wall. Tracer glances back to see Reaper in the kitchen where the fridge was, looking pleased with himself. More shots rain down on both of them, forcing them to take cover.
In the living room, the tripod snaps shut and jogs out onto the balcony. Splinters of glass and flakes of wood are crushed underfoot as other cloaked operatives follow. The fridge shifts before falling to the floor. The soldier that was trapped under it breaks for the balcony. His cameo flickers and dies. Through the pulse fire Tracer can make out
high-end dark body armor and a helmet stylized to look like a skull. He vaults over the balcony and out of sight. The cover fire stops.
Tracer rushes outside in time to see a boxy vehicle peeling away from the hotel. She aims, squinting down the sights of her pistol at the street below. The four-wheeler speeds past a family out walking, nearly running them over. Tracer drops her arm. There are too many people out and about for her to risk a shot. She watches the four-wheeler disappear around a corner, Talon spooks or not, Sombra's data isn't her problem.
She steps back into the hotel room.
"They're gone," she announces, "had a van or something waiting for them."
A pile of smoke rolls out from under the front door and condenses into Reaper. "Lobby and stairwell clear. No signs of a fakeout or more trouble. Any casualties?"
"They all got away so I didn't see any corpses for you to snack on if that's what you're asking," Tracer says.
Sombra reappears between the door to the bedroom and the fridge on the floor. "I'm fine, by the way, thanks for asking."
Reaper grunts. "Get your stuff, we've been compromised."
"Uh, no duh," Sombra says. Reaper just stares at her.
"Fine, fine," Sombra mutters and starts moving. Reaper drums his claws on his arm, his expression unreadable. Sombra lets out a low whistle looking over the apartment. "Wow. Remind me to never invite you guys over to my place," she says stepping over piles of broken glass.
"Oh, like you were any help," Tracer snaps.
"No one asked you to fight them, chica," Sombra replies, poking at the mess of corrupted data in front of her. "Fuck," she finally announces.
Tracer can hear the sounds of Italian sirens through the gaping hole in the wall. She sighs.
"So what did you do to piss Talon off?" she asks Sombra, "Or do Talon flunkeys just constantly undermine each other, crabs in a pot style." Despite the edge to her words, Tracer is genuinely curious. Only Talon soldiers wore uniforms like that, but the group seemed more focused on info retrieval than enemy elimination.
"Oh, I'm not Talon," Sombra replies collecting the few salvageable documents, "I'm a contractor. Talon just happened to pay best. But yeah, sometimes it happens." Sombra shakes her head muttering to herself, "Look at this garbage. Six months of work gone."
"You're a sellout?" Tracer demands.
"Stop talking," Reaper snaps. Tracer and Sombra fall silent. "Talon strike teams only work in teams of fifteen to twenty. This group had five to seven tops. Where is everyone else?"
"Wait." Sombra glances around. "Where's Widow?"
"Latrodectus."
A body of water stretches out before her, shimmering in the noonday sun. The whine of bugs and rustling of small animals mingle with the sound of tiny waves lapping up on the shore. Wind rolls over her face carrying the send of pine and other foliage.
Amélie sits up taking in her surroundings. She's back at the lake, her lake. She doubts someone has actually dragged her from Italy to France, so this is probably all in her head.
She sighs, causing a portion of her loose hair to fall over her face. This is getting old. Amélie attempts to brush the hair away but finds she can't raise her hand. She settles on blowing it away with a pfft. She looks down. A plain metal chair is supporting her. It has straps that are restraining her wrist and ankles.
She quirks an eyebrow. Well, that's new. Amélie twists her arm experimentally. These would become uncomfortable very quickly.
Wait. Her brows furrow. She remembers this.
Je te promets de t'aimer
She jumps as if she's been shocked.
de te chérir de te rester fidèle
No. Amélie throws herself forward, pulling at her restraints. Her legs and wrists move a no more than a millimeter before coming to a dead stop.
dans la santé comme dans la maladie
She should just relax. Soon she'll be safe back behind the old walls she knows and under rules she understands. Amélie throws herself forward again.
dans la richesse comme dans la pauvreté
Not this again. She jerks to the left. The chair doesn't move. It's bolted to the ground. Everything will go back to the way it was. Isn't that what she wanted? Never this again. She made sure. Never again.
dans la joie comme dans la peine
Non non non- She throws herself to the right knowing it won't do any good. –plus jamais, plus jamais.
jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare.
With nothing left to do Amélie throws back her head and screams.
Translations
La viuda regresa pronto – Spanish, Widow will be back soon.
Non, non, non, plus jamais, plus jamais. – French, No, no, no, never again, never again.
Je te promets de t'aimer, de te chérir de te rester fidèle, dans la santé comme dans la maladie, dans la richesse comme dans la pauvreté, dans la joie comme dans la peine, jusqu'à ce que la mort nous sépare. - French. I promise to love you, to cherish you, to be loyal, in health as well as in sickness, in wealth as well as in poverty, in happiness as well as in sadness, until death separates us.
Short and sour. Sorry.
Betaed by 2JRC6 and Dot
Widow will be fine. Eventually.
I am so happy to finally reach the last third of this story. I really hope you guys enjoy it.