LENA

As she loosened the straps on the chronal accelerator, she felt herself breathing again. Lena sighed for a long time and then stretched as much as she could in such a small space. If she tried to move backwards, she would get stuck by the toilet bowl and on either side by the walls that separated her from the other toilets. She massaged her shoulders as well as her chest, which was suffering from the pressure of the device she had to wear all the time. Lena took advantage of this little moment of respite to sit on the toilet seat. It was going to be a long evening. According to her, it had already gone far too long.

Lena leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. She felt terribly tired, totally discouraged and yet she knew she had to go back in less than a minute. Her only hope was that the evening would end quickly. Lena readjusted the straps of the chronal accelerator to prevent her chest from being crushed under the layer of clothes. She retrieved the white shirt that she had pinned to the hook of the toilet door and put it over her undershirt and the chronal accelerator. She just fastened a few buttons to avoid feeling tight and then Lena took the protective vest at her feet. On the back of the vest was embroidered an insert with a black H and a yellow S on it. With the back of her hand she took the dirt off the vest and put it over her head. Lena walked out of the toilets by tightening the straps of the vest and looked into the large mirror above the washbasin row.

Lena huffed and puffed in frustration. She looked utterly ridiculous with this vest and shirt that doubled the size of her breasts. Yet she had asked to keep the chronal accelerator above her work clothes. But her superiors had refused outright, believing that the employees' dress and equipment should be the same for everyone, and Lena had to accept this. She approached the sink and sprayed her face with water. She rubbed her eyelids, hoping that the fatigue would disappear, and observed her reflection.

"Come on, you've dealt with far worse. You totally handle it."

She blew on a lock of hair that fell on her right eye, and at the same time, another person came out of one of the toilets. Lena saw the woman's suspicious look in the mirror reflection, then immediately she dried her hands and walked out of the bathroom, before it was noticed that her cheeks had turned red.

As she emerged from the women's bathroom, she was challenged by a familiar voice:

"What took you so long, Lena?"

"Guess what? I fell in the toilet."

"Thank God you made it back up. I really couldn't see myself explaining it to Donovan

The guy who was waiting for her against the wall was wearing the same uniform, except unlike her, his vest fit him like a glove. The young man seemed to enjoy playing it, as he placed his hands under his vest to appear more physically fit.

"I'm sure he wished I had drowned in the basin."

"Don't be so negative" replied the man. "I would have come to save you. Cheers, love! The plumbing's here!

Faced with the ridiculous pose her colleague had just taken, Lena couldn't help but giggle and a smile appeared on her face.

"You're so dumb, Craig."

"Why do all the girls tell me that?"

Lena and Craig walked down a long white corridor at a fast pace to reach a large gallery where on either side were several paintings and works that Lena would have described as contemporary, although she was not very well versed in the field of art. There were paintings made up of simple coloured patches on black or white canvas, other works were collections of motifs and shapes in a complete shamble. Placed on pedestals, she saw dark, worn-out sculptures with long limbs that reminded her of the meagre legs of spiders. From a certain angle, the statues reminded her of bodies writhing in pain.

"These things scare the shit out of me." Craig told her as they passed the largest statue.

Lena nodded without adding anything. As much as she appreciated some of the paintings hanging on the walls, she didn't see the interest and appeal of these sculptures, probably straight out of the mind of a tormented artist. A whole section of contemporary art has no other object than art itself. She clearly remembered this quote, but she could not remember where she had heard it. Perhaps it was Emily who had once told her? She was the kind of person who could find suitable quotes for every kind of situation.

At the end of the corridor they reached a large room, their destination in fact. While Lena didn't have an eye for the creations on display here, she was nevertheless wondering about the artistic relevance of the work presented in this wing of the museum.

In the middle of the room was a gigantic sphere floating and pivoting on itself, illuminated by spotlights located at the four corners of the room and at its base. From far enough away, it would have been easy to mistake and confuse this sphere as a large ball of metal and iron, but if one approached it, one could see that there were irregularities in its outline. The sphere, which rose up to the ceiling of the hall, was not uniform and smooth, but was made up of a heap of irregular and deformed pieces that made the whole thing not quite harmonious. Yet this was not the most repulsive part of the piece, in Lena's eyes.

The pieces and metals needed to create this piece had been gathered around the globe on former battlefields of the Omnic Crisis. But it was not a junk shop of mechanical machines, tanks, planes, and weapons of all kinds. It was a matter of carcasses, bodies of omnics gleaned here and there and assembled into a huge mass grave that now floated before all eyes in one of the greatest modern art museums in the world.

"Where are Locke and Monroe?" Craig wondered. "They were supposed to wait until we came back."

"As usual, they just went about their business. Let's hurry up before Donovan gets back."

They returned to their respective positions: he at the entrance to the showroom and she on the opposite side of the room, close to the long table where a man dressed in an impeccable black suit served champagne in countless rows of toasting flutes. The artwork separated the two of them and the angle from which they could see each other was very narrow. In any case, this work of art was a real eye-catcher.

Within the sculpture made from omnics' remains, Lena had been able to recognize several models she had once fought against. She could see the foot of an OR-14 unit protruding from a corner of the assembly. Further on, she saw the head of a B73 siege automaton and a few meters away from it, the weapon arm of an E54 Bastion. As the sphere pivoted, Lena thought she saw the wings of an omnic combat jet and the barrel of a spider tank, which she had only seen in holo-images. These metal carcasses were weapons of war. Lena had neutralized many of them on numerous missions under the aegis of Overwatch. At that time, she didn't think much about whether she should consider the enemy camp as sentient beings. The omnics had acted as a single entity driven by a relentless, inhuman ferocity in their quest for extermination.

During the Omnic Crisis, it was often said that one should not trust the omnics. That we should not believe their lies, that they would ape humans, try to imitate them, to better deceive them and lead them to their ruin. As a child, Lena had received a lot of such warnings from adults who wanted to warn her of a threat she would sooner or later encounter. She had had her own preconceptions, but as she grew up she had made up her own mind. She had met conscious omnics with free will, trying to coexist with humans, and she had faced mechanical units, devoid of any will of their own, programmed to kill people. The former were human-like, their appearance and manner was similar to people, while the latter were merely war machines. The borderline might be fine for some, but to Lena, that was really the difference.

So, while in the middle of the war machines immortalized in the sculpture, she saw mostly humanoid omnics similar to those she could meet on the streets, she could not help but feel a deep sense of dismay.

Lena was brought back to reality by the guests who had just entered the exhibition room, preceded by museum employees. Amused, she was able to spot Craig greeting them with reverence and lightness, accompanied by his most beautiful smile. The young man's face seemed to attract the favors of the people who greeted him back. He would be better suited as a host, Lena thought, he was not like a security guard. Yet, compared to the other members of the team, his angel face made him unique in his own right. When you worked in security, you could expect to find colossal henchmen or gigantic bullies, but there were exceptions. She and Craig seemed to be one of those exceptions.

"Ngyuen, Oxton. Are you in position?"

Before she could even answer her earpiece, Craig got there first:

"We're in position, the guests have just arrived. The room is slowly filling up."

"I'll join you soon." replied Donovan, whose voice was as clear and unemotional as ever.

The guests began to walk through the exhibition room, circling around the sculpture to discern all the details. This would mainly concern the art afficionados, lovers of new styles and trends, as another part of the guests had gone to the buffet to sack the champagne, the nibbles and the refined pastries.

The entire London elite seemed to be at the party. Lena saw a flock of men of all ages, dressed in light cabans or loose-fitting jackets, and women wearing tight dresses or puffy tunics that must have been at the peak of fashion. They seemed not to notice her, despite a few glances here and there, obsessed by their conversations and impressions of the piece. Lena scanned the audience for anything suspicious, but apart from a few giggles and bursts of voice, everything seemed normal. The guests, who had now had their fill and drink, were gradually gathering around the sphere, admiring the work from every angle.

Lena observed the audience and their reactions. Some watched it with their faces closed, others were fascinated and never took their eyes off the sculpture, letting themselves be rocked by the slow rotation of the sphere while fingers rose to point out details in the omnic cluster. In turn, Lena looked up at the metal sculpture to see new and disheartening details: omnics' legs and arms crossed over each other, torsos with severed limbs and inert heads embedded in the surface of the sphere. How many omnics had been required to create this sculpture?

It was at this precise moment that a commotion ran through the assembly and with a simple glance at the entrance of the room, Lena understood why: the artist had just arrived. Leane Talbot, better known under her pseudonym LeTal, entered the exhibition hall under the applause of the guests who moved aside in order to create a passage for her. Lena had already seen this woman on news channels and in holonet articles. She was portrayed as an extravagant and controversial artist whose work had been the subject of many scandals and intense debate.

Her admirers considered her to be innovative, ingenious and provocative, while her critics argued that she had a provocative side, but that it was her only asset and that she knew how to play it. This work of art, made up of the remains of omnics, did not make its way to the Tate Modern Museum in London by chance. LeTal had initially intended to exhibit it at the Modern Art Museum in Paris but was refused for ethical reasons. The Guggenheim in New York and the Palazzo Grassi in Venice had also rejected her request and the sculpture finally found its place at the Tate Modern, for better or for worse.

LeTal, dressed in a long see-through plastic coat over a dark camisole dress, shook her thick red hair and greeted the crowd. She sent kisses that pinched her lips, highlighted with purple lip gloss. She made her way among the crowd, kissing the guests she recognized and shaking hands with the most notable personalities. Lena saw that she was enjoying every second of her moment of glory. Behind the cheerful features of the artist, she saw the stern and hard faces of her security service and her team leader: Donovan Moore. She saw him approaching Craig and exchanging a few words with him. The young man nodded and followed him as a member of LeTal's close team took his place. Donovan and Craig walked around the room, avoiding the crowd, and then joined her.

"Nothing to report, Oxton?" he asked.

"No, sir." she answered without prevarication.

"Perfect."

Donovan was a man in his fifties with a rough face, deep, cold eyes and a square jaw, typical of this kind of profession. He was also massive in stature and muscle, and his safety uniform only reinforced that feeling. At his side, Lena and Craig looked like twigs.

"I sent Locke and Monroe to the entrance to help Davis." explained Donovan as he stood beside Lena to observe the room, immediately mimicked by Craig.

"How are things at the museum entrance?" asked Lena.

"Everything is under control. The police have been warned and are already on the spot."

Donovan didn't bother with the details. As a team leader at Helix Security for years, it was his way of leading and Lena didn't like his approach. Was it because he felt that, as a leader, he was the only one who had to have all the important and essential information in order to make the right decisions; and that his subordinates had to obey him in complete trust? Unless, as Lena thought, he trusted no one but himself. In the past, she had already expressed her disagreement with Donovan's methods. Donovan had taken it very badly at the time, and he had been watching her with defiance ever since. To tell the truth, they didn't really have chemistry: he was austere and uncompromising, Lena was friendly and accommodating. In order to avoid future disappointments with him, she had kept to the role of a good subordinate who did not insist or question orders. And that weighed on her from day to day.

Right in the middle of the showroom, LeTal continued to interact with the crowd under the watchful eye of its personal security department and Helix employees. Donovan, Craig and Lena stayed for several minutes to observe the festivities until silence fell in the showroom. The man who appeared to be the museum administrator handed a microphone to the artist and her voice echoed through the room:

"Thank you all! Thank you all! It is with immense honor that I welcome you here in this prestigious Tate Modern in our beautiful city of London for my new exhibition whose flagship work is right in front of your eyes: the Ironheart. A controversial work, but you know as well as I do, great pieces of art are always controversial, aren't they? Ha ha ha ha ..."

As the room left in a great burst of laughter, Lena, piqued by curiosity, turned to her two colleagues:

"What do you think of this work?"

She saw Craig raise an eyebrow as he stared at her while Donovan had mechanically rotated his head, as if he wasn't sure if she had spoken to him.

"Well..." Craig said, scratching the few hairs that made up his goatee. "I can hardly see the point."

"Art is not meant to be interesting." Donovan replied curtly.

Intrigued by the artistic positions of her team leader, Lena continued:

"Do you think it's... beautiful? Aesthetic?"

The two men took their time before answering, looking more closely at the sphere.

"I wouldn't put that in my living room." Craig replied.

"Seriously." Lena insisted. "What do you think about it?"

"... generous patrons who have allowed me to expose my work. In addition, I would like to inform you that for those who appreciate this exhibition, I have created personalised models - smaller ones of course - which you can acquire by consulting the catalogues located at the exit of the show. I sincerely hope that you will find something that will catch your eye..."

"It's not really something that I like." replied Craig.

"It's rather rough." Donovan said bluntly. "If this huge metal thing is a masterpiece then my scrap dealer grandfather was one of the greatest artists of our time."

The sphere rotated again and Lena thought she saw two humanoid omnics glued together who seemed to be kissing, unless it was a frightening embrace, as if they had been caught and frozen like that.

"I find it creepy and ... disturbing." she confessed in a voice low enough for only her colleagues to hear her. "If the omnics had won the war, do you think they would have turned human mass graves into pieces of art for everyone to see?"

The grimace on Craig's face indicated to the young woman that her colleague had just visualised this possibility and that she was not pleasant. Her boss remained impassive and yet it was her reaction that Lena was expecting.

"Seen from that angle." Craig said, scratching his head. "I understand better what's going on outside..."

"We are here to ensure the guests' safety" Donovan replied curtly. "not to discuss the relevance of this exhibition."

"However, if the museum had refused to exhibit this ... "thing"." Lena argued. "they wouldn't have needed to increase their security and we wouldn't be here."

The icy blue pupils flashed lightning bolts at the young woman with her glib tongue.

"But it is not the case. This piece of art is here to stay and we have a job to do. Our job is to ensure the security of the exhibition guests, no matter what the circumstances, and the work on display. Have I made myself clear, Oxton?"

Because of her military experience, Lena knew when to keep quiet and when to nod in agreement depending on which superior you were dealing with. Some people appreciated a few rare touches of insolence and boldness on the part of their subordinates as long as it didn't interfere with the proper conduct of operations, while others wanted uncompromising obedience. With Donovan, Lena knew who she was dealing with.

"Perfectly."

"Woe to the vanquished". Donovan declared without any real conviction. "That's how it works. And to tell the truth, I prefer it to be them rather than us. I would have thought that a former member of Overwatch would have understood that..."

Lena would have liked to reply, but she swallowed her pride and kept silent to avoid getting into further trouble with her superior. Like Craig, who pretended he hadn't seen or heard anything of their exchange.

"... that's why I would like to thank you again for being here in such great numbers! Sorry, I keep repeating myself. Enjoy the exhibition and the evening! As for interested buyers, you know where to find me, ha ha!"

LeTal's speech ended under the guests' cheers and the hubbub of the crowd, which had resumed its discussions and was beginning to disperse throughout the room. Donovan, under the pretext of an adjustment with the artist's security service, left Lena and Craig as the guests gathered around the buffet table.

"It's always the worst seat, the one next to the buffet." Craig whispered as he looked greedily at the table nearby. "Do you think we can take some?"

Lena wouldn't have tried it, fearing Donovan's reprimands, but she nevertheless felt her legs go numb from standing still. She would have allowed herself a few steps in the room if her team leader hadn't been there.

"You can try. But don't get caught."

"Shall I get you something?"

Craig's squinted eyes revealed a bit of mischief in his eyes. Lena would have liked to smile but something was tying up her stomach. The young woman didn't try to find out why, as this sphere of omnic bodies swivelled in front of her. She simply replied:

"No, thank you, I'm not hungry."

Craig quickly made his way through the crowd to the buffet table, leaving the young woman alone with her thoughts. Her shoulders hurt again and she dreamed of the moment when she could finally take off that uniform and protective waistcoat. Massaging her shoulders, hoping not to be noticed, she sighed with boredom. In the middle of the London gratin, she felt completely out of place.

Around her, Lena saw women in sumptuous dresses, wearing richly coloured finery, on the arms of men whose impeccable suits all seemed to have come from the same factory. One man nearly choked when he saw that another, partially drunk, had inadvertently spilled part of his champagne cup on his jacket. The latter expressed his displeasure, giving the designer's name who had made this piece of costume for him, while the second shrugged his shoulders and went to the sideboard to restock with champagne. The other guests stared at the drunkard and then resumed their conversations about upcoming fashion shows, sports cars or future social events.

Lena was able to hear exchanges on politics, economics and finance, but only a few small bits of discussion. In any case, it was not her world at all, and she didn't see what she would have had to say with these people. Since she had joined Helix Security, she had been able to bathe in the midst of the wealthy without ever feeling at ease there. She had been sent with her team to secure weddings of rich heirs, garden parties and brunches. And it bored her to the bone to be a simple security guard for the best of the English elite.

Overwatch had been dissolved more than a year ago now and Lena had fond memories of her few years with the organisation and the friendships she had formed. However, she had lost sight of everyone. Because of the destruction of the headquarters and the disappearance of their superiors, the separations of the remaining members had not been auspicious. Torbjörn and Angela had taken different paths: he had retired and she had returned to the field as a doctor. Lena remembered that Angela Ziegler's hearing at the United Nations had affected her deeply. She sobbed in front of her TV and found comfort only in Emily's arms. Lena had managed to exchange a few messages with Angela, but the doctor was always on the move, in theatres of war or in disaster areas, and their exchanges had become rare. Lena had come to the conclusion that Dr. Ziegler probably had more important things to do than to respond to her messages.

Others had simply disappeared. Lena thought of Winston. The last time she had seen her friend was shortly before she returned to the UK. She knew he had nowhere else to go, but when she asked him what he had planned, the scientist had simply put his glasses back on his nose and told her that he had been approached by a research laboratory that wanted to hire him. Lena did not insist then, which she later deeply regretted. Weeks afterwards, she tried to find out about Winston, his new workplace and his research to contact him, but he had simply vanished into thin air. At first, Lena felt hurt by her friend's lie, but in time she came to understand that Winston had only known Overwatch and its disappearance had affected him as much as anyone else. Even though she didn't know where he was, Lena often kept thinking about him. The only thing that reassured her was that he was strong and smart enough to handle it on his own. In any case, at this moment he was probably in a better place than she was.

Lena readjusted her protective waistcoat while Craig joined her while trying to cover his chewing.

"You should try the pastries while there's still some left-over." he mumbled. "They're amazing."

"Be cautious." Lena warned him. "you have some on your chin."

"Oh ... thank you."

"You're welcome."

Luckily Craig was there, he brought a certain dose of that primordial lightness to Lena's long working days. Even if he was a bit annoying at times, she enjoyed his company during their assignments. He was the only one in the team that she got along with.

"Hey, I know you!"

Lena choked a cry of surprise. The drunken guest from earlier had just stood in front of her, eyes wide open and cheeks rosy, with obviously a champagne glass in his hand.

"My little brother has figurines and posters of you in his room." said the young man, pointing at Lena, who could no longer hide.

"You must be mistaken, sir." she replied calmly, while her own cheeks blushed, which had nothing to do with the drink, unlike her interlocutor.

The latter wrinkled his eyes to examine her attentively while taking a sip of champagne. At a glance, Lena cast a dark look at Craig who seemed to be enjoying the situation. Some of the surrounding guests were staring in their direction.

"Didn't you have any little guns?" asked the inebriated man as he mimicked guns with both hands, spilling the contents of his glass behind his back.

Lena just nodded her head, trying to show an impassive look but the red on her cheeks betrayed her. It was then that Craig tried to come to her rescue:

"I think you've got the wrong person, sir. Now please let us do our job."

"Oh, but you're Tracer!" cried a woman in a scarlet dress who joined in the conversation.

"Yes! That's it! Tracer from Overwatch!" the drunken man added.

Under the worried gaze of the others, the tipsy man pretended to shoot bullets with his hands, taking ridiculous poses that Lena avoided looking at.

"My son used to watch your cartoon every Saturday morning." explained the woman with a cheerful smile. "He adored you and ran around the living room just like you in the cartoon. The maids couldn't stop him."

"The cavalry is here! That's what you said!"

"I've also seen you on holovideos. You look taller on the holos, when in reality you're quite small."

Lena couldn't hide her annoyed pout while the woman in the red dress was laughing heartily. Around them, some guests had approached to listen and she understood that the situation was getting out of hand. If she wanted to, she could escape from the room in a matter of seconds, but it would only get her in more trouble.

"Can you sign an autograph for me?" asked the drunkard, bringing a paper napkin from the buffet table. "For my brother?"

"I don't have a pen." Lena answered mechanically.

"Darling, please come here."" said the woman in red. "I'd like an autograph, too. Don't you have any photos on you for signing autographs? Darling, paper and pen, hurry up!"

Before she could even realize it, a small group of guests had gathered around her. Lena was assailed by a dozen questions and requests. Even Craig had faded away in front of the mass that was beginning to form around the young woman. Lena looked at him with eyes that shouted an unequivocal "Help" as different voices called out to her:

"You saved my mother during the Null Sector's uprising, thank you infinitely!

"Can you sign for William? It's for my husband, a big fan."

"Yes, yes... Thank you." replied Lena as she juggled between the different pens and holders that were handed to her. "Just give me two seconds ..."

"A picture please!" cried two young girls who flanked Lena to do a selfie before leaving in a blink of an eye.

"I don't know who you are, miss." said an old man. "but I'd like an autograph anyway."

"What do you do now that Overwatch has been dismantled?"

"Well... I ... am ..."

"You are working as a security guard?"

"Do you make birthday parties? It would be for my daughter Cara; she turns twelve in a couple of weeks. Would you be available?"

"Can I ask what's going on here?"

As soon as she heard this voice, Lena knew it was trouble. Donovan had just separated two people to come directly to his subordinate. Someone tore the paper and pen out of her hands as she confronted the dark gaze of her superior.

"Please leave this agent alone and get back to your activities, ladies and gentlemen." Donovan ordered in an authoritative tone.

The guests huddled around Lena obeyed, some with their dedications and others not. Nevertheless, one of the guests managed to slip a card into her pocket and whisper in her ear:

"Call me for the birthday."

Lena didn't even give him a glance, her sole focus was on Donovan, whose face seemed to be tensing up from second to second.

"Nguyen, stay here." he said. "Oxton, follow me."

Craig nodded silently and Lena executed herself without flinching as she walked in Donovan's footsteps. They avoided the crowd of guests who had once again turned their attention to the metal sphere. New gatherings had formed around the viewing tablets where visitors could consult the artist's catalogue and make their small orders. As they passed, Lena managed to catch a few glimpses from the attendees, some of them whispering, others seemed simply indifferent, but nevertheless she thought she heard a few clicks of guests' holomobiles who wanted to have, at least, just a picture of her. Lena tried not to think about it, she had other problems to deal with.

Donovan took her out of the showroom, into a corner where they wouldn't be seen by the guests.

"What did I say last time about this kind of incident?"

"I couldn't do anything, he recognised me immediately." Lena defended herself.

"My last warning wasn't enough?" replied Donovan, pointing his finger at himself. "I have a team to lead and I don't have time for you and your little fanclub."

"That's not what I wanted," Lena replied sharply. "I told them they had the wrong person! Do you think that pleases me?"

Donovan sighed in annoyance as he rubbed his fingers over his eyes.

"Look, I won't allow this to happen again. Your presence is disrupting our work and I won't allow it to affect the team. If you can't go unnoticed in the field then I'll ask Helix to find you a position in the paperwork, then we won't have any celebrity issues to deal with within the team."

"Put me in a hood or put me in a spot where no one will recognise me." said Lena. "but keep me in the field, boss. That's where I want to be and you know my background!"

"I'm not going to repeat myself, I'm wasting my time trying..."

"Can you explain to me what just happened?" hissed a voice behind them.

It was at that very moment that something unexpected happened and this unexpected person was wearing a transparent plastic jacket, high heels and exhibited red hair.

"Can someone explain to me what just happened then?" protested LeTal, staring at Lena and Donovan successively.

Lena glimpsed Donovan's tense face transforming, in a few seconds, into a serene and confident face that he showed to the artist, his two goons and the curator who had just joined them.

"Everything is fine, Madam." he replied in a slightly pompous tone. "It was only a small deviation; I can assure you that it will not happen again."

"You still haven't told me what happened!" said angrily the artist. "I'm waiting!"

"It's my fault, Madam." Lena cut off, drawing all the attention to herself.

"And who are you?" she wondered smugly, while scrutinising the young woman from every angle.

Even before she could answer, Donovan was quick to add:

"She's a former Overwatch agent. She was recognised by guests and that's what caused this slight agitation."

"Oh yes, Tracer!" said the curator who had just had an epiphany. "Strange, I really didn't recognise you at first glance..."

"Because of the glasses," remarked one of the artist's bodyguards. "The orange visor, it's..."

He preferred not to conclude his sentence when he saw the lightning flashes from LeTal's eyes. Lena was nevertheless touched and gave a slightly embarrassed smile, which the artist noticed:

"I don't care if you're from this or that charity." she replied curtly as she suddenly drew closer. "Do you know what I have sacrificed for this exhibition? All the work I've done? All the time I've waited? Everything had to be perfect tonight and you have just ruined it..."

"That was not my intention, Madam..." stammered Lena.

"Do you often sign autographs on exhibition evenings?" LeTal replied irritated. "But who do you think you are? It's my exhibition! My creation! My party!"

LeTal turned her head towards Donovan, who maintained his composure.

"You're her superior?" the artist whistled.

"Yes, Mrs. Talbot."

"Lena saw the artist's index finger pointing at her, her fake red nail was dangerously close to her face."

"I don't want to see her any more tonight! Find her a place where she won't outshine anyone. I can assure you that your superiors will hear about it!"

"Yes, Mrs. Talbot."

On this final request, LeTal turned back and went to the exhibition hall followed by his two bodyguards. Even the sorry and compassionate look of the administrator was not enough to reassure Lena. He immediately returned to the exhibition, leaving her alone with her superior, who remained silent. If it had been a bad dream, Lena felt that it had gone on too long and that she should be able to wake up from it. She would have liked to wake up, in bed, in the middle of the night, next to Emily, but it wasn't a dream, it was real, and it will last.

Donovan was always undaunted and his cold eyes crossed Lena's brown pupils. He added nothing more and activated his earpiece:

"Locke, Monroe." she heard. "Change of programme, you're back in the exhibition hall. Oxton and Ngyuen will replace you at the entrance. Wait until they join you to move."

"Copy that."

"Roger!"

"Ngyuen," continued Donovan. "I'm with Oxton at the exit of the exhibition.

"Copy that, I'm on my way."

Donovan released the pressure from his earpiece, while Lena remained mute, fearing the reprimands of her team leader.

"It's not over, Oxton." he finally stated. "We'll talk about this again. In the meantime, you're a shadow, a silhouette, a ghost. I don't want to hear from you again unless it has something to do with our work here. Is that clear?"

"Yes, sir." she replied under her breath.

He didn't waste any more time and returned to the room, bumping into Craig who was joining them.

"What happened?" asked the young man.

"Nothing incredibly special." Lena replied bitterly. "Let's get going, the further away from this room I am, the better off I'll be..."

"The artist seemed in a bad mood when she returned to the exhibition."

Lena felt the resentment and the pain disappear, giving way to an anger that she needed to express.

"That hoity-toity bitch? No wonder ..."

"Uh ... can you explain to me what hoity-toity means?" Craig asked candidly.

"It means haughty, pretentious, smug! A snob! Is this really the first time you've heard of it?"

"Oh I see!"

Both walked quickly through the room, again passing the dark sculptures and the many other paintings in the museum.

"If you ask me," Craig said bitingly, "there were plenty of others, hoity-toity bitches, in the exhibition hall."

They continued their way from one wing of the museum to another, and finally made their way into the lobby of the Tate Modern where they could finally see what was rumbling outside. Lena heard muffled outbursts of voices and vindictive shouts that formed a clamour that could be heard from inside the museum. They went down the stairs, passed the empty counters and the museum employees who watched them with concern.

The front doors opened, releasing the noise and turmoil from outside for a few seconds before closing behind Locke and Monroe.

"Well, well, the cavalry has arrived," mocked Locke, running his hand over his smooth skull. Why didn't you stay with the celebrities, Oxton?"

"You're really hilarious." replied Lena greatly bored with his provocations.

"It's getting less and less funny every time." Craig added.

"For you." Locke said, revealing his teeth. "Not for me."

If there was one member of her team that Lena didn't like, it was Locke: a medium sized bald man with a bony, hairless face and two small cunning eyes. His fellow Monroe, on the other hand, was tall, fat and had a certain good-natured appearance with childish features and a thick tuft of blond hair. He yawned and tried to discreetly pull up his trousers. Lena didn't particularly like him any more than his colleague, but she had noticed that Monroe was much nicer to his team when Locke wasn't around.

"Why makes this switch?" Monroe wondered.

"Donovan has his reasons as always." Craig replied.

"Well," Locke shrugged. "is the buffet being served?"

"Hurry up or there'll be nothing left."

Craig took a petit four out of one of his trouser pockets and swallowed it in front of the other two in a daring manner.

"You've really got a big mouth, Craig," replied the bald man scoffing, "for a child..."

Locke and Monroe passed them both to reach the bottom of the stairs that would lead them to the exhibition hall.

"How are things outside?" asked Lena out of a concern for her professionalism.

"The police have been here for a long time; they take care of everything." Monroe replied.

"You just have to enjoy the show." Locke added without even looking back.

They disappeared at the top of the stairs, heading down the corridors of the museum, leaving Craig and Lena alone at the front doors.

"I don't know about you," stated Lena, "but what Locke said doesn't comfort me at all."

"Same here."

They walked out of the Tate Modern, through the automatic doors, and Lena was finally able to realise the scale of what was happening outside. Hundreds of people had invaded the esplanade in front of the Tate Modern Museum, shouting slogans and chanting claims, armed with signs and banners. The roaring crowd gathered was made up of men, women and omnics. Their demands were no mystery to Lena: they were protesting against the exhibition. They were shouting at each other to tear their lungs out, calling out in unison as one voice:

"No to the Exhibition! No to the Abomination!"

"Omnics! Humans! All equals! Omnics! Humans! All equals!"

From the top of the stairs, Lena and Craig could see the crowd that stretched to the banks of the Thames. Above the river, the Millennium Bridge linked the Southwark and City districts. Across the river, Lena saw the huge glass dome of the New St. Paul's Cathedral surrounded by a swarm of buildings projecting a cold glow, which dominated her on a starless sky. She was able to distinguish the traffic of aircraft and drones between the buildings, dancing in a hypnotic ballet. Just the opposite of the agitation on the esplanade below, created by a heterogeneous and rumbling crowd. The only thing that separated the demonstrators from the stairs leading to the museum were metal barriers and a row of policemen on the lookout who had to contain any overflow.

"Here you are at last!" cried a voice.

A red-headed woman wearing the same uniform stopped them. Kathleen Davis was Donovan's right-hand man, a woman of the same temperament. Unfriendly and strict, Davis had an athletic, muscular figure with red hair tucked into a tight bun. She had pinched lips, an aquiline nose, and freckles. Lena usually loved this last feature, but this was not the case with Kate Davis. She had never seen her smile, Davis preferred to show a stern and impassive face, which was a pity because if she had, Lena would have found her rather cute. Craig liked to call her the female Donovan.

"We ran into Locke and Monroe, we just talked to them for a few seconds." explained Lena.

"We're not here to chat." Davis said. "We have to make sure none of them disrupt the exhibition."

Lena strongly doubted that the demonstrators would try anything. In addition to the police officers stationed at the barrier, two police cars were at the ends of the square, keeping a close eye on everything that was happening in front of the museum. There were also a dozen security guards from Helix at the top of the stairs, as well as the usual Tate Modern security guards, who must have felt quite useless with all this security.

"I don't think anyone will try anything." she simply replied.

"I wouldn't be so sure."

Davis' reply ended the discussion and the three took their places on the top of the stairs, looking for any outbursts from the protesters. In the air, drone cameras were circling the crowd, preferring to keep their distance from the demonstrators. Some of the drones were in the colours of the police, while others bore the words " press " in white letters. Journalists were also there, away from all the commotion, covering the movement. The loud shouts and clamour were repeated, sometimes by the high and low voices of the humans, sometimes by the crystal-clear and pure voices of the omnics. Lena saw rudimentary, hastily made signs and banners stretched and supported by several demonstrators: "Humans and Omnics: united for equal rights!". She saw an omnic on the shoulders of a human waving a sign that read: "I am not your piece of art". Two women chanted slogans via vocal amplifiers, which were immediately repeated by the rest of the protest:

"We are not complicit! Leane your monstrosity, we do not want it!"

Other demonstrators whose cries were muffled by the crowd's exhortations had other suggestions for the artist. Lena could discern cries that seemed to incite LeTal to visit a certain part of her anatomy, while others explicitly identified her with that part. Lena could only agree with them.

Several minutes passed, the uninterrupted rallying cries of the crowd continued to resound on the museum esplanade and, instead of keeping Lena on alert, the tumult of the crowd plunged her into her thoughts. She slowly looked around the esplanade, letting herself be carried away by all the curiosities she could see. In the middle of the placards, she caught a glimpse of a man holding a portrait above her head at arm's length. In the frame was an omnic with a slender face, milky complexion, chrome and gold chin and jaws, but without a mouth. Two interstices and two lines marked the eyes and temples of his white face and nine blue diodes constellated in a perfect square were inlaid on his forehead. Lena recognised Tekhartha Mondatta, a figure of equality between omnics and humans. The demonstrator had added two lines beneath this portrait: "We are all one within the Iris".

Among the crowd, some omnics wore clothes: shirts, jackets, trousers, long tunics, loose dresses or simply working suits. However, Lena managed to find some omnics among the assembly who were not wearing any piece of cloth, and who seemed to proudly display the plates, tubes, nuts, bolts and any piece of metal that made up their bodies. At least, that was what Lena assumed. Surely it was not modesty that incited the omnics to wear clothes, but rather their will to fit into human societies and above all to create their own identity, to exist individually within a multitude of totally homogenous models.

"Peace and Unity" was written on a sign. Lena knew that the struggle for the rights of the omnics was a struggle that activists had been leading for years, whether omnics or human beings. Unlike many other countries, the UK considered the omnics to be second-class citizens. They worked as cheap labour in factories, in manufactures, doing the most thankless jobs, with the blessing of business and government. Thus, the omnics were portrayed as part of the driving forces of the British nation and its economy.

But that was the only thing they were recognised for. Apart from that, the omnics were forced to stay amongst them, parked in ghettos, slums, in abject places with inhuman conditions. And as soon as they left their regular neighbourhoods, some did not hesitate to remind them where they belonged, whether through words or violence. Lena had always known this reality and with the rise of extremist omnic groups, she understood that this status quo would only lead to a divided country. When she was with Overwatch, she had been able to travel to many countries and realised that human and omnic cohabitation was possible. At least, if mentalities changed, and leaders moved in that direction.

However, this was far from being the case in the United Kingdom where, despite attempts to calm down and change, the Null Sector uprising had revived the tensions between humans and omnics and had further divided the country on the issue of equal rights. Yet some were trying to change the situation. Lena knew deep down that she should be among the protesters to reject this grotesque work of art, to condemn this filthy sculpture that reduced the omnics to mere pieces of metal that humans could freely use and dispose of. Those people at the bottom of the stairs were fighting for their ideas and what they believed to be right.

Shortly after the dissolution of Overwatch, Helix Security International had approached Lena to hire her as a member of their UK branch. Helix presented itself as the successor to Overwatch, a private security and law enforcement organisation, which was therefore a continuation of its missions. However, unlike its predecessor, Helix Security International was not meant to intervene when it was not invited to do so, something that Overwatch had been widely criticised for. But Lena had accepted their offer because she hoped to find the same will as in her former organisation: to protect and serve the oppressed and to maintain peace. But she had been deluded and the months spent in Helix were a slow process of disenchantment.

As the missions progressed, she realised that Helix was nothing like Overwatch. On all the operations where her team had been sent, she had been restricted to serving and protecting the interests of those who could afford to employ the services of the private company. Helix was only interested in profit, its service was aimed at the wealthiest, as much as its protection. This frustrated Lena, but she had no other opportunities and Helix had worked hard to keep her in their ranks.

"Donovan."

Kate Davis' voice brought her back to reality.

"Nothing has changed here?" asked the team leader soberly.

"No, the police are keeping everyone calm." Davis answered.

Donovan didn't give her a glance and went to stand between Craig and Kate.

"It looks like there are still people joining the demonstration." Lena added.

"The police are keeping the crowd in check." Donovan replied, still without looking at her. "No intervention on our part, unless they try to force their way into the museum."

"How long is the evening supposed to last?" asked Craig.

"The organisers set twenty-three o'clock as the end time to close the event."

"In about two hours' time, the event will end ..."

In front of them, the crowd of demonstrators did not cease to gather, and the grievances continued with equal force and conviction.

"How long have they been there?" asked Lena.

"It must be two hours." Kate said.

"Let's hope they get tired by then." Craig tried to joke.

But nobody laughed at his remark. The drone cameras fluttered above the protesters. The police drones were trying to disperse the journalists' devices. The latter twirled away from the crowd, approaching the top of the museum's stairs. A police drone stopped them in their tracks and brought them back to the esplanade.

"Let's stand back." Donovan ordered, moving away from the top of the stairs to get closer to the museum doors. "There's no need to expose ourselves too much, I'd like to avoid attracting too much attention."

The spike had been addressed directly to her, but Lena didn't pick it up and kept her composure, simply following without flinching her superior.

"Miss Oxton cannot breathe without attracting all the attention around her?"

Lena gave Kate a dark look and the redhead replied with a grin.

"Is that why you were switched with Locke and Monroe? Are we going to relive what happened at the Royal Albert Hall?"

"No." Lena replied dryly.

"Certainly not," Donovan added coldly. "I won't allow it."

There was a silence between the four security members of Helix, only punctuated by the repeated demands and slogans on the plaza.

"If your mere presence jeopardises our missions, then perhaps we should reconsider your position within the team." Kate announced.

Lena did her best to keep calm. But what was to stop her from going, in a fraction of a second, in the blink of an eye, to take a punch in her jaw. Kate could handle it anyway.

"Kate why not keep your thoughts to yourself?" replied Craig.

"You'd better think about it, Craig." the redhead whistled. "What will Helix's team coordinators think when they see that every time we go into the field, something always has to go wrong because of Oxton? At what point will this endanger our assignments?"

"Despite these incidents, all our team's missions have been successfully completed." commented Lena, staring at Kate. "I've already worked with many teams on the field, including teammates far more competent than you. So, if you're worried that my presence on the team will affect your work, just let the mission coordinator know. I'm sure he will find a new team for you that matches your abilities, and maybe it will be missions that are more to your half measure."

She had lost her patience and had freed herself from all the frustration she had been accumulating since the beginning of the evening. A weight in her chest had been lifted. Kate's grin faded and she pouted with resentment. On Craig's side, her lips cracked into a broad, satisfied smile that he didn't try to hide. Donovan, true to himself, remained marbled and Lena preferred to savour her victory rather than try to get a reaction from him.

"However, the fact remains that these incidents are a problem for the team." Donovan finally replied. "Competent or not, it doesn't change anything. And I don't want to hear any more about it tonight."

The team leader came to close the debate, but Lena had sent Kate back to her entrenchment. It was a small victory, but a victory, nonetheless.

Their watch continued for about ten minutes, without incident or outbursts from the protesters, who kept on singing and shouting their demands out loud. However, Lena had surprised a moment of tension between the law-enforcement agencies and the demonstrators. An omnic had attempted to climb one of the dividing barriers to hold up his placard. A policeman had quickly curbed his audacity with a show of force, beating the barrier with his truncheon, forcing him to come down and join the swarming mass of protesters who turned their demands into disapproving cries. It was at these very moments that everything could turn upside down. All it took was a blink of an eye for a crowd to go up into a rage.

Fortunately, this did not happen. The tension gradually eased, and the demonstrators continued to protest, while maintaining a certain distance from the police barriers. Lena was surprised to wonder what would have happened if she had been recognised. Would it have distracted the demonstrators' attention? The journalists and their drones would have rushed at her to get the best shot. She had already imagined herself making the headlines in the tabloids and in articles about the holonet.

Everyone would have gone with their own interpretation, more or less approximate, but in no way close to the truth. During her years of service with Overwatch, with the media pressure the organisation had come under, she had understood that words and images had a meaning that could easily be misused. The pictures would have shown her in front of the museum preventing any intrusion into a famous London museum where an abject work was on display that reduced the omnics to a dispensable object. What would people have thought when they saw her like this? If the protesters recognised her at that moment, would they encourage her to join them? Or would they denounce the simple fact that she was on the wrong side of the barrier?

"It looks like things are moving over there."

At Craig's remark, Lena turned to the back of the esplanade, not far from one of the police cars. A group of humans had just mingled with the crowd and were trying to make their way up the stairs. They met resistance from the demonstrators.

"What do we do?" Kate asked, seeking direction from Donovan.

"We wait. The police handle the back."

A scream erupted from the tumult of claims, attracting the attention of the crowd. The clamour turned into a general outcry as omnics and men fought at the back. Lena immediately thought of groups of extremists anti-omnic humans, known to attack and oppose those they called "tin cans". In an instant, the crowd lost all semblance of order. Some wanted to get as far away as possible while others converged on where the brawl had just begun. In the distance, Lena thought she saw a wooden bat rise from the mass of protesters and disappear as quickly as it had appeared.

"We have to do something!" Craig yelled.

"We're not doing anything." Donovan replied. "The police will take care of it."

Lena looked at the police car closest to the altercation, the officers leaning against the car trunk didn't react. They let it happen.

"They're not going to do anything!" cried Lena. "Otherwise they would have done it a long time ago."

Some of the demonstrators tried to leave the esplanade and crowded together at the bottom of the museum's stairs, pushing back the police barriers at the same time. The police on duty did their best to contain them, but the agitation and fear of violence had created real panic. Above the chaos, the drones were taking advantage of the show.

"The situation is getting out of hand!" said Lena. "We have to intervene!"

"We've secured the museum, Oxton!" Donovan ordered.

"We have to help them!"

Lena's call went unanswered. Craig was hesitant and Kate was indifferent. Lena looked at her team leader's pupils. His orders had not changed. He would remain inflexible as she heard cries for help and screams of fear coming from the esplanade.

Lena turned around to face the museum plaza. In the front line, the demonstrators were standing against the barriers, their faces twisted by fear and anxiety, while shouts were heard from the back of the esplanade where the clashes were taking place. No matter how much she thought, she had to face the facts. She was on the wrong side of the barrier

She took a few steps in the direction of the museum stairs while feeling the chronal accelerator thundering on her chest. Lena didn't even hear one of her team members call her to order. Then, without warning, she ran towards the crowd.

In the blink of an eye, she reached the foot of the stairs between two policemen, she leaned on one of the police barriers to jump over the crowd stunned by this sudden appearance. Once again, she blinked into the air to reduce the gap between her and the clashes. Then she leaned on the shoulder of one of the protesters again to jump before making another blink and finally reaching the scene of the brawl.

A man, armed with a bat, was about to hit an omnic on the ground who was protecting himself behind his dented arm. In shock, both of them saw Lena land on their feet. She didn't lose a single moment. With a powerful kick, she swept the attacker's legs to put him down. Then she took advantage of a blink to join another attacker who was pushing away a woman who was trying to help the omnic. She punched him and sent him to the ground to join his friend in front of the bewildered eyes of the crowd. Using her speed, she struck the belly of a third man with her knee which dropped the iron bar in his hand. Before it even fell to the ground, she grabbed the weapon and threw it at another individual who had come to blows with a protester.

Lena stopped, feeling that the chronal accelerator on her chest was at the end of its charge. Around her, the protesters and anti-omnic groups had frozen. The four extremists whom she had put out of action were writhing in pain on the cobblestones of the esplanade. The injured omnic got up thanks to the support of two women and Lena retrieved the bat from the first attacker's position and finally stood between him and the omnic.

"The next time you want to break omnics with your pals, you'll think twice." she warned, pointing at him with the bat.

With a broad movement, she threw the bat into the air, which fell directly into the Thames. The extremists stared at her coldly and Lena tried to catch her breath after the adrenaline rush. A cloud of cheers and applause rose up among the demonstrators. She did not have time to realise that the drones of the press and the police were already on top of her, circling around her, scanning every angle of their invasive objectives. In addition to the crowd of protesters and the cameras of the drones, she felt Donovan's dark gaze from the top of the stairs behind her.

Lena, panting, let out a nervous laugh.

"Shit..."


Hello everyone!

It's time for me to address this fifth chapter with the aforementioned character that I've been teasing since chapter two but who has finally slipped behind Angela and Hanzo.

This chapter has totally changed from what I had envisioned at the beginning. I liked the basic idea but I didn't like writing it and then after a conversation with my lifelong friend I rethought the scene and it is undeniable that the final result is far better.

Lena's chapter was written fairly quickly and I tried to avoid using the same tone as in other chapters by former Overwatch members such as Winston and Angela. This is partly because it is redundant to write and I suspect it may be the same when reading.

I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you will be able to recognise the character of Lena in it. I always try to transcribe the characters from the video game as well as possible and I hope that this is the case. Thanks to Etsukazu for his help and rereading. I know that he was extremely more than rigorous on the character of Tracer, it is one of his favourites.

We will be moving on to a new character and I can't wait to write about this character who is a fan favourite.

If you liked this chapter, feel free to leave me your opinion in the comments. It provides euphoria and motivation for the author.

See you soon !