Widowmaker

Monaco. Country and microstate on the French Riviera in Western Europe.

It made sense that Widowmaker was placed at the forefront of this particular mission. Out of all the languages in the world, those that were the stubbornest to conform to the universal use of English in most social situations were the French. Widow couldn't say she hated that notion. If she could feel pride, she would, but only a shadow of such an emotion flickered in her chest. Moira's "medicine" was still doing its work, seemingly, even after the relatively long ride to her current location. She was waiting outside of an impressive building meant only for just as impressive V.I.P.s.

Widowmaker was feeling less as the hours progressed, but her instincts were razor sharp, and they told her she didn't belong in the field like this. She couldn't recall the last time she pretended to be part of regular society, let alone be so exposed. The dress Talon had selected for her was surprisingly well-fitted. It's dark purple colouring and black details only added to Widowmaker's abnormal skin tone. Her hair was even done up in a rather fancy way, her make-up applied with the perfect touch. Although she herself felt little for the end product of Talon's efforts, none would argue with the fact that she was the epitome of conventional beauty.

That being said, her silhouette in the moonlight outside of the older, grand building was enough to draw the attention of a few brave individuals. Three men, stumbling ever so slightly yet dressed to the nines, approached Widowmaker, wide grins on their faces, and the supposed most courageous of them all stepping forward to interact with the silent woman.

'Good evening, my lady. How do you do?' The man spoke in a thick French accent, his eyes suddenly widening and his composure stumbling some. His friends noticed at the same time he did, and their reactions almost made Widowmaker chuckle.

'Problem?' Widowmaker made direct eye contact, her imposing presence only adding to their hesitation.

'No. Not at all…Er…Are you unwell?'

'Why ever would you ask such a thing?'

'Your…complexion is rather…unique.'

'So I have been told.' Widowmaker glanced to the other two men, her yellow eyes practically shimmering in anticipation. How easily she could kill them all in the blink of an eye. This mission didn't require her "expertise" until quite a bit later, apparently, but the bloodlust was ever present, and the drug only made things worse. 'Was there anything else, gentlemen?'

The three men weren't sure how to proceed. It was almost amusing. However, Widowmaker's allure was simply overwhelming, and something like a strange skin colour was nearly acceptable she was so attractive. The "lead" man shrugged, and just as he was about to say something further, an enormous, dark-skinned hand took hold of his shoulder, and when the trio whirled to see who had decided to interrupt their play, there was almost a universal whimper at the sight of who Widowmaker now knew to be Akande Ogundimu a.k.a. Doomfist, one of the most powerful individuals in Talon's organization…perhaps the world.

'Something I can help you boys with?' Akande's voice rumbled, matching his massive, muscular size barely contained in a white suit that easily cost a grand or more.

That's all it took to disperse the unwanted attention. Widowmaker observed Doomfist closely, and admitted that she was satisfied with his presence. He commanded respect, even from her, because as a hunter, she recognized when a threat to her wellbeing was present, and Akande was certainly that. She would be forced to pull out all the stops to even stand a chance against such a monster of a man, and even then, she couldn't foresee the actual results of such a confrontation.

Akande huffed, fixing his suit a little bit before making eye contact with Widowmaker.

'Lacroix?'

Widowmaker blinked, but nodded slowly, her mind feeling sluggish. She didn't like the identification, but she couldn't explain why.

'Yes.'

'A small surprise those men couldn't stop themselves from speaking with you. Your beauty is only surpassed by your "skills", from what I understand.'

'Perhaps.' Widowmaker managed to say, but it took some effort.

'Ah. It would appear the information about your disposition was accurate as well. Pity.' Akande cracked his neck and then offered his arm. Widowmaker reluctantly took it, knowing it was for the sake of the mission, and entered the lit building that was constructed so very long ago with actual artistic vision.

The inside of the place was even more dazzling than the exterior. Golden light seemed to shimmer from every which way, and well-dressed workers were moving in all directions, offering their services to any who made it past the front entrance's "list" and enforcers. Men and women who clearly had more money than they knew what to do with were everywhere, and Akande sniffed at the air in seeming disgust, speaking to Widowmaker in a low tone.

'I was impressed by your performance in London. Talon could use more operatives like you. Especially given the recent lapses.'

Widowmaker wasn't really listening very closely, glancing around in an attempt to find any potential threats. It's all she knew how to do. Acting like the rich was beyond her, even if the routine echoed deep in her hollow heart. She had already released Doomfist's giant arm.

"You know you're on the open channel." A sassy voice spoke directly into Widowmaker's ear, the communication device now actively in play.

'Right on cue…' Akande confirmed smugly.

"Ask her about St. Petersburg." Sombra went on from somewhere else in the building. From what Widowmaker could ascertain, she was potentially near a bar. Her senses could pick up the smallest sounds and translate them accordingly. Drinks were being mixed. Ice was clanging against glass. Liquid was compressed out of various taps.

'Spare me the commentary. Your work in Numbani was appreciated as well. Just let me know if anything seems out of the ordinary.'

"You're making me think you don't trust him."

'I don't trust anyone.' Akande responded conclusively, and by this point, he and Widow were now in the gambling sector of the building, men and women throwing money about as though it was truly just paper with ink printed over both sides.

Doomfist brought Widowmaker to an apparently elite table, where a single omnic with rather antagonistic features resided. His red illuminators bore into the soul, and his facial structure was modified perhaps to only add to his intimidation. Naturally, such simple tricks worked little on Widowmaker. This omnic could die just like the rest of them; just like any other "living" thing.

'Maximilien.' Doomfist muttered in affirmation.

The omnic's eyes shined as he raised his head away from the gambling before him.

'Akande.'

'How's Lady Luck treating you tonight?'

'You know there's no such thing as luck. Otherwise, they might actually let us play the games.'

Widowmaker's brow went up at the comment. A curious thing for an omnic to say.

'You're looking well.' Maximilien went on, watching Akande and Widowmaker take their respective seats at the table. Doomfist continued to chat with the omnic, and Widowmaker held little interest in their conversation, to be perfectly honest. Her brain was pounding, but the nausea wave had passed for the moment, and she found relief in the absence of pain temporarily.

'Would you like to roll the die, madame?' A service omnic asked politely.

'Thank-you.' Widowmaker answered. There was, at the very least, a little thrill involved in "gambling".

'And yet, plans have progressed even while you've been out of contact.' Max's voice droned on. 'War between humans and omnics seems all but inevitable…'

This piece of news perked Widowmaker's ear. War meant killing, and killing meant some notion of purpose. Her mind sparked with anticipation, but a piece of her writhed in disgust. Which was the truth? Which part of her could give any form of comfort? Widowmaker rolled the die as the omnic continued to speak in his artificial voice.

'…Thanks in no small part to your friend here.'

A chill of melancholy ran Widow's spine, and she shifted slightly in her seat in reaction. Recollecting that day brought more satisfaction and longing than anything. It was before Moira had meddled with her brain further. She knew where she stood that day. Now, she couldn't anticipate how she would cope by the hour. This new drug was actively causing discomfort, and Widowmaker's emotions that had been locked away for so long were beginning to act up in retaliation to the harsh new adjustments to her system.

All because she didn't kill that girl. All because she wanted to see her again and dance in the ballroom of death. All because she looked at her with such…despair and raw energy. It unsettled Widowmaker, and she wished not to think further on the matter. She reflected on how it felt to kill Mondatta so spectacularly, and responded to Maximilien in kind.

'The pleasure was all mine.' And it was nothing but the truth.

'My compliments.' The fake being attempted to connect with Widow by speaking her native tongue, but she was already engaged with her die and the activity of their table. He seemed to take the hint, and proceeded back to Akande.

'There are those in our organization who will be quite pleased to have you back, but some have concerns about whether you will keep the money flowing.'

'I will deal with them. They need to be reminded about their parts.' Doomfist uttered with finality. Everything he did was filled with conviction, and it was a trait Widowmaker was progressively beginning to connect with. Out of any other Talon member thus far, Akande was a man Widow could actively support if he so wished it. He didn't mince words; an aspect Widow more than appreciated. He wouldn't ask strange questions. He didn't care about the process, just the results. He could rise to the top of the inner circle if he so desired. At least he was willing to show his face; unlike the current "leader" of Talon.

Ultimately, Widowmaker didn't truly care so long as she was given missions that meant killing, not assignments that made her dress up in a silly gown and pretend to be an accessary meant for admiration.

'I wonder, my friend. You're not as popular as you used to be. Many were happy to see you go away.'

"Happy". When was the last time that word meant anything? The closest thing Widowmaker could associate with that word was "thrilling". When she was engaged with that little Overwatch girl, the thrill was unreal. Her abilities were beyond formidable, and Widowmaker had to do everything to manage the speed to which Tracer could move.

Widowmaker glanced to Doomfist as the employee called out.

'Place your bets!'

If she attempted to kill him, what sort of "thrill" would she get from that particular confrontation? Would it be her last? Would it be worth it before Moira's ideal image of her was solidified in her brain forever? Who would survive that life or death struggle?

'Not you, of course.' Akande countered, as if reading Widow's mind but reacting to Maximilien's comment.

'Of course not. We have history. And I respect a man with vision.' The omnic answered, and then the other screamed out the die roll.

'Eleven!'

"Heads up, Boss. Company heading your way." Sombra's sarcastic voice drawled in the earpieces.

'Then who are they?' Doomfist turned, seeing the multitude of "intimidating" men approaching the table. Widowmaker tossed her die without a care to see how they landed, and bit down on her lower lip, anticipating a confrontation of some kind and trying not to quiver with excitement.

'As I said…many were happy to see you go.' Maximilien answered. He could have been lying, but it didn't matter anymore. Akande stood up, and Widow soon followed his lead.

'Time to go, Lacroix.'

That name again…

'It's bad luck to leave the table when you're shooting.' The omnic just had to go on.

'Watch my chips.' Widowmaker finally decided to humour him. Her mood was suddenly just a little better.

Akande was already springing into action. He was like an animal, his movements vicious and quick. His years of martial arts training were put on full display, and Widowmaker had to give the man credit: he was lethality manifested in human form. He downed two men with savage punches that literally filled the room with an intense cracking sound. Thinking that perhaps taking his "date" as hostage was a better route to navigate, a singular stray assailant went for Widow. She wanted this, and in two shifts of her body, she had her left heeled foot pinning the foolish boy's neck to the ground. He whined pathetically as Doomfist finished off the rest of the rebellious Talon agents, and Widowmaker sighed in annoyance, going so far as to checking her pocket mirror to see how little this scuffle had done to her perfectly done hair.

If these men couldn't even dishevel a single strand, then what good were they? That Tracer girl would have forced Widowmaker to tear a piece of her dress off for better mobility. That Tracer girl would have made Widowmaker's ridiculous puff her bangs were collected into completely deflate. That Tracer girl would have at least provided something of a challenge.

'Vialli's men?'

'So it would seem.' Widow answered distantly.

'Take care of the mess, Max. I'll see you in Venice.'

'Agreed. This stupidity should be stopped post haste.' Maximilien droned.

"Ooo! We goin' on another trip?"

'There are a few loose strings that I want to sever entirely. Only then can our organization proceed as planned. Let's move.'

Widow closed her eyes, a wave of pain picking at her brain, meticulously extracting the pieces of emotion that were festering due to Moira's tampering.

'Lacroix?' Akande asked, but she lifted her hand in dismissal.

'I'm fine.'

But the massive man wasn't convinced, and he simply nodded slowly.

'We'll talk later. Follow me.'

And although Widowmaker disliked being ordered in such a way, she didn't have a choice for too many reasons.

A private aircraft was boarded within the hour, Akande's connections proving to be still quite in tact. He, Sombra, and Widowmaker boarded and were on their way to Venice with no time wasted. Doomfist was initially on his phone, talking to someone about what sounded like "costumes", or some other such nonsense. Looking down at the dark purple dress Widow was still stuck in, she couldn't imagine anything more ridiculous and dysfunctional.

'Hey, Sexy.' Sombra teased, as she often did annoyingly. 'Showing a whole lotta skin there, huh? Trying to get in good with one of the head honchos here?'

Widow rolled her eyes. She could have replied by suggesting Sombra was dressed quite similarly, but she found engaging in any form of conversation with this girl to be an act of insanity. Silence was the best answer to such foolishness.

'Aw. Don't be like that. Or are you prickly because of all the nasty drugs Moiry prescribed? Quite the stuff she's loading into you. Is that why your eyes are, like, you know, deader than usual? Feelin' okay, Spider?'

The fact Sombra knew about what had happened didn't surprise Widowmaker anymore. As maddening as she was, her ability to collect information was inhuman. It was why Talon tolerated her deviances, after all. She was that valuable.

'Well, here's a fun little tidbit for you, okay? You ready? You don't look ready. Maybe I won't tell you. I'm in a good mood, in case you missed the cues. Wouldn't surprise me. But when you start guessin' right with certain things, it just begins to give a girl a bit of a high. So, you wanna know?'

'I don't.' Widowmaker submitted, hoping this woman would just leave her be for once.

'Huh. You sure? Even if it has something to do with everyone's favourite time traveler?'

Widowmaker didn't "feel" compared to most humans, but her body certainly reacted to particular things. The kill gave her what was closest to any form of real excitement. However, even the mention of Tracer, admittedly, made her chest tight with utter anticipation and a touch of…curiosity? What was this other piece that was tugging at the inner depths of Widow's brain? Was it because of that stupid question the girl had asked in complete despair? A despair Widow could only laugh at it confused her so?

"Why?"

'Oho. Looks like I hit a nerve…or what's left of it. Havin' some naughty dreams about Overwatch's poster girl these days, Spider? She is pretty cute. Got up close and personal with her myself a couple days ago. Girl can dance. I actually had a pretty decent time for once in my life. I can get why you wanna do the nasty with that one. Nice ass, too. Nothing like your galactic wonder, but still nice! Heheh!'

'…I'm not interested in such things. She's also another girl. Why do you talk about such idiotic drivel?'

'You serious? You know what year it is, right? Sure, some old timers still get a little hung up on that kinda stuff, but it's all about "freedom" and "liberated feelings" and whatever. Gag. But hey, makes for a good time here and there. I mean, if people are hooking up with omnics, which is crazy if you ask me, what's wrong with a little girl on girl or guy on guy fun, you know what I'm saying? At least they're human.'

Widowmaker felt a headache coming. She always did when tolerating Sombra's onslaught of one-sided dialogues, but she was already in a compromised state, and this "hacker" was doing anything but helping.

'Again, I'm not interested.'

'Right, right. "You don't feel". That's your super catchy tagline. Kind of misleading, since you obviously do, but memorable. Actually, scratch that, I took a deep dive look into what Moiry gave you, and you're gonna be a potato soon enough. She's smart and all, but I think she's using you as a guinea pig for something bigger Talon's got planned. Omnics are strong, no doubt, but humans have their uses, too, you know? What if you could take the soulless, unquestioning omnics for war and fuse them with the most capable humans? Nice. Very nice. "Super soldiers" without emotion? Gabe and Jack but even better? I'm getting wet! Hahah!'

'You're insane…' Widowmaker hissed, but Sombra's words agitated her nonetheless.

'Cute. You calling me insane. Real cute.'

'Enough.' Akande finally lowered his phone, smoothly sliding it into his pocket. 'Your ability to extract information impresses me still, Sombra. If you weren't such a loose cannon, I would invite you to the inner circle myself.'

'Flattery will get you everywhere, big boy.'

'I'd rather not play with your particular kind of fire.'

'Really? Your loss.'

Akande shifted in his seat, the belt strapping him safely in looking as though it could snap his muscular build was stressing it so.

'That being said, I'm curious about what you were discussing with our own Lacroix here.'

'Oh? The girl on girl stuff? Sorry, big guy, but no free show for you. Spider doesn't like me enough to – '

'No, Sombra. You know what I am referring to.'

'…The guy on guy action?'

Akande sighed deeply, but he kept his composure, which was quite the feat, Widowmaker knew.

'What do you know about Dr. O'Deorain's new experiments? She is attempting to nullify emotion completely in humans, is she not?'

'Seems that way.'

'And Lacroix is her test subject?'

'Also seems that way.'

'Talon is willing to dispose of her now? They must be confident about our doctor's progress. Intriguing. But also a waste.'

'Not really. Spider's emotions were always a little special. It's why she's the perfect candidate to get this new drug to work on. If they win her over, they can pretty well get anybody.'

Akande perked up, and Widowmaker knew she should've been more concerned about what was being discussed, but all she could think about was the upcoming kill that Doomfist had alluded to as they had made their way to their current aircraft and…another chance to fight Tracer. Perhaps this "drug" that was being discussed was already nearing its final phase. Widowmaker progressively didn't care. The waves ebbed and flowed.

'Her skill will be missed, I'm sure.'

'Maybe. But Talon's growing by the hour with all the crazy stuff happening in the world. I'm guessing they're just going to get a replacement…or make another one.'

'True. However, I am willing to pay you a reasonable sum to procure a counter drug that will slow or nullify the effects of Dr. O'Deorain's.'

Widowmaker's ears tingled, and even she looked up from the ground and at Akande.

'I know talent when I see it. Artificially enhanced talent is even more frightening. You killed Mondatta while dealing with one of Overwatch's best, did you not? Having personally confronted her myself recently, I can appreciate the sort of skill that required. Talon may be willing to part ways with you, but I am not. I'll use you myself. It's what you want, isn't it? I'll give you targets to kill. I'll give you a reason to live. I believe in only strength, and you have that, Lacroix. Join my sector of Talon, and I promise only fulfillment in what's left of your instinctual desires.'

There was silence following Akande's grand statement, only the powerful hum of the aircraft's engines filling the air. With Sombra present, naturally, the silence didn't last.

'Is this like a confession of love or something?'

'It is not.' Doomfist answered tolerably. 'Before I was imprisoned, Talon's purpose was to build a better, stronger humanity through conflict. Survival of the fittest. It's what I've always lived by. Unfortunately, there are those in Talon who no longer hold such values. Greed has corrupted the body, forming a cancerous reaction rippling through the core. I will extract this cancer myself, and with your help, "Widowmaker", my ambitions will be even more possible.'

Widowmaker hardly knew the meaning of ambition anymore, but she shrugged, knowing it was a better route than the one Moira had planned. Akande and herself were similar enough, and she could follow him much more easily than the voice that currently ruled Talon.

'So be it.'

'Heheh. Sounds fun. But you must have an awful lot of money ready for me if you think I'm going to help out and keep my mouth shut about this little "rebellion".'

Akande grinned, his confidence in himself ever present.

'I do. And it's not a rebellion; it's a return to form.'

'Whatever you wanna call it. Just show me a number I like.'

Widowmaker turned to the window, the darkness of the outside sky high above the clouds all encompassing. She could only think about the upcoming kill. The politics and ideals surrounding it mattered little to her. For as long as she could remember, that's how it has always been. But recent events were changing the comfort of that lifestyle, and Widowmaker couldn't be sure what it would all mean by the end. The pain in her thoughts was as natural as breathing. But what if that pain went away? What if she became just a little closer to the woman she had forgotten before joining Talon?

Widowmaker didn't feel fear. Yet, she couldn't deny the word crossed her mind in that moment.