Widowmaker

'I'm saving her, Reaper, and no one's gonna stop me!'

The sounds that followed the claim brought Widowmaker slowly back into reality. She was disoriented, and attempted to analyze her surroundings as she groggily reconnected all her senses. Her body was heavy. Her mind was in a cloud. She could feel her pulse ever so slowly circulating.

It was hard to focus with all the noise outside, and the intensity of whatever was happening pinched at the assassin's receptors, causing her fingers to twitch. It was in that moment Widow discovered that she was bound, and she suddenly felt much more aware of her position. The exclamation beyond her place of captivity…It was that girl wasn't it? Tracer?

Who was she going to save? Widowmaker? Was Widow captured and Tracer trying to rescue her? No. It was more likely that the girl had cuffed her herself. Ah. So, that was it. She was still going on about such foolishness. Such idiocy. Such…

Widowmaker's brain pulsated, and a stabbing pain punctured her skull, piercing into her right eye and ravaging her mind. She convulsed, practically feeling Moira's toxin pouring through her veins and strangling any semblance of emotion. She winced, but didn't cry out, refusing to give the scientist such satisfaction despite her being nowhere near.

But what did it matter?

What did any of this matter?

The fighting outside ceased, and in only a few more seconds, Tracer herself stumbled to the opening of what must've been some form of vehicle. When the girl saw that Widowmaker was conscious, her fatigued expression only intensified, and she shook her head partially.

'Brilliant…' She muttered, eyeing Widow with whatever energy she had left, it appeared.

Widow wasn't in a state to do much else but endure the discomfort her body was experiencing. Her face scowled in response to the pain, and she met Tracer's wide, pure eyes with her own cold, antagonizing ones. When this wave passed, she would make her escape. Tracer had obviously been in some form of fight that drained her, and that meant Widow had the upper hand…somewhat. She herself wasn't in the best of shape either, she supposed.

'Look…I just wanna help you, okay? Talon made you into a killer, and I really can't let that slide; not when I've seen how scared and confused you can be.' The girl tried to reason.

Widowmaker barely heard her. The ringing in her ears was deafening, and her bloodthirst began to eat away at her stomach. This was very different from the numbness Widowmaker had lived with until now. Moira's drug was growing stronger, and it was taking the sniper's final sliver of humanity with it.

'Our doc is super skilled. Seriously. She'll fix you up right in no time; I know it.'

Widow grit her teeth, rolling onto her other side and realizing her head was being cushioned by something soft. To have such consideration for the enemy? This girl was insane.

'Oi. No way I should fly right now, but we gotta get outta here. Winston's gonna have my head if he finds out I piloted anything feeling like this.'

It wouldn't take much to get her arms out from behind her, and then she could subdue Tracer and procure the aircraft herself. Rendezvousing with Akande and the rest wouldn't be terribly difficult, although Widow would have to explain how her headpiece was destroyed. A small price to return to…to…

'You okay, Luv? Figured you would've tried something by now. Head still hurting? I don't wanna do anything nasty to keep you safe until we get back to base, but I have a feeling I don't have a choice, right? You thinkin' about how to get away from me again? I'm not used to chasing the ladies like this. They kinda come to me most of the time, you know? Hm. Guess not.'

This girl certainly liked to talk. It was doing nothing for Widow's agony. The waves of torture usually passed given enough time, but this particular attack wasn't letting go when Widow needed it to the most. She was trapped with the enemy, and she needed to get away. She would simply have to kill the girl this time. No more playing around. None of it would matter after today anyway, it seemed.

So, why do you run, my dear?

Because Talon is where she belonged. Without them, she was nothing. She had to kill. She had to murder. That's all she was good for, and it's all that brought her even a hint of pleasure.

This girl is offering you a chance for a new life. Take it. You don't need Talon.

No. She did. Talon is all she had. Talon needed her, and she needed them. She was the perfect assassin. Nobody could replace her. Moira was only making her stronger. Once her body adjusted to the chemicals integrating themselves into her entire being, she would be even more powerful. These pesky emotions only served to weigh her down. She wanted them to disappear.

Brainwashing. Manipulation. They don't care about you at all. If this experiment fails, they'll find another. You can be discarded. You're dispensable.

It didn't matter to Widow. She'd be all the better for it. This life had lost all meaning either way. This girl had offered an amusing diversion, but even now she was beginning to feel nothing for the thought of fighting her. It was all clouding over. All matters of motivation were slipping through her fingers.

'Hey.' A hand made contact with Widow's shoulder, and she snapped around, flipping her form on the ground and biting down hard on her lower lip until it bled, dripping over her chin.

'Don't…touch me…' She hissed, vision blurring and mouth moving slow.

'What's happening to you, Luv? I mean, it kinda works for me right now, but something's changed since we fought last, hasn't it?'

A few more seconds. Just a little more time and Widowmaker's strength would be back. She would take out Tracer and return to where she belonged. Where she could kill. Where she could…

You're hesitating.

It was Moira's fault. Everything was in disarray because of her. Tracer, too. Why couldn't they leave her alone? Why couldn't Widow simply kill? Why could she not decide between pushing and pulling? What was this emptiness in her chest? Why did her toes hurt? Why did her mouth feel vacant? White. She could see white fabric. White fabric restricting her limbs. White fabric bringing her joy. White. White. White.

Your dance. Your wedding.

'Enough.' Widow wheezed, and she twisted, attempting to get her legs through her arms so she could better move her body and escape. Tracer was on her in an instant, however, her clingy hands grabbing at Widow in a weak attempt to subdue her.

'Bloody hell! Don't do this, Luv! I don't wanna hurt you!'

'Then you remain the fool!' Widow growled, even bound capable of overpowering Tracer somewhat. Physically, she was much more built for close quarters combat because she was made to be that way. She wriggled about in the aircraft, shoving Tracer off over and over again, even going so far as to smash her head into the other girl's, finally getting into a kneeling position and successfully bringing her hands under her legs and in front of her where they belonged.

'Damn it!' Tracer was rubbing her skull. 'What are you made out of?'

Widow tried to smirk, but another wave slammed into her just as she was obtaining the upper hand, her whole body collapsing as if magnetized to the flooring of the aircraft. Was it happening? Was the poison having the last say now?

Fight it. Fight it as you've fought the moment they tried to twist your brain into a monster's.

Too late. She was already a monster. This would be her final form. An unfeeling killing machine. Life would be so very simple from here on out. The abyss that ate at her heart was already disappearing. It was rapturous. Why resist further? To what end? Instinct was a powerful adversary, and it had rebelled valiantly, but Moira's science was godly, and it would have the last word.

Then why do you look like you're about to cry?

Those words again. She couldn't cry anymore. And yet…and yet…and yet…

'Hey.' Her voice was so soft suddenly. 'I'm here, alright? Right here.'

Why was she saying that? Why was this girl so insistent on interfering? Who was being toyed with now? Who had always been toyed with? Why did Widowmaker desire to fight this Overwatch agent so? It was animalistic desire. The thrill of the hunt. That was all. That was…all…

'I…don't…'

Be honest. She's the only one who can help you now.

'I'm…sc…ar…ed…'

What? She was what? No. That wasn't true. Nothing frightened the Widowmaker; the world's greatest assassin and sniper. What was this voice? Was Moira's infiltration causing Widow to go insane? That was the only answer!

'Oh, God…! Widow…er…Amelie! Stay with me! Your eyes are going all – !'

What? "Going all…" what? Why couldn't she hear her? Who was Amelie? What was any of this?

You're fading. It's taking over.

'I'm gonna – then we can – okay? Oh, man – wish Angela was – to do. But I'm not – ise.'

It was finally ending. All of it. This useless existence. This torture. This agony. This hell. This regret. Sweet release. Sweet separation. Sweet things are made of…

'Wait! Why are – re? Som – rt her! Huh? Bu – ill me! Reap – ot me!'

Goodbye…Coward.

Crawling. Crawling. Crawling.

The path was getting smaller. She couldn't breathe. She was being swallowed.

Crawling. Crawling. Crawling.

She was sinking. She was floating. She had no air.

Crawling. Crawling. Crawling…

'Heya, Sleeping Beauty. Lookin' a touch better now, huh? Got you something to help with whatever was makin' you go all crazy. Well, not me, I guess, but I'm not supposed to tell you who helped us at the end there. Can't figure that one out, I tell you.'

Disoriented again. Still numb. But…alive. Thoughts were processing. Senses realigning. Arms and legs cuffed to the seats within the humming aircraft.

Final chance.

'How are you feelin'?' The girl named Tracer asked for whatever reason. However, Widowmaker needed to test out her capabilities as her brain persisted to configure itself after the assault of Moira's drug.

'I don't feel.'

A beat, and Widow thought she heard a small giggle from the pilot's seat.

'Mm. Debatable, but okay. Glad you're talking some sense at least.'

It was true. Widow's mouth was functioning semi-normally. Whoever had helped before Widow's mind nearly completely shut down, and whatever they had administered, worked to an extent. For how long? Widow presumed little.

'Anyway, sorry 'bout the kinky setup. Didn't have a choice, you know? I mean, after you headbutted me to kingdom come I couldn't risk another bruise on the money maker.'

A headache was returning, but at least it wasn't due to the poison. Tracer's voice was simply irritating. She just loved to talk; the complete opposite of Widowmaker.

'Heh. That was…uh…a joke. I mean, I don't think I'm hideous or anything, but I got nothing on you. Girl's confidence takes a dive with someone like you around.'

The implications were clear, but Widowmaker's aesthetic appeal meant little to her. It was only seldomly useful during missions when brief moments of seduction were required. As an assassin, she supposed she was blessed with certain charms, if need be, but those missions were few and far between; particularly as her ability to exhibit convincing emotions regularly beyond the thrill of the kill waned.

Widow checked her cuffs, struggling slightly to get a read on her level of captivity. Akande may have been capable of breaking free due to his brute strength, but Widow stood no chance. She was being taken to an Overwatch base of some kind. This girl wanted to "save" her.

How completely idiotic.

Widowmaker would kill as many as she could before inevitably being put down. That would send a clear message, and dying while performing her most valued act didn't sound terrible. Glory to Talon.

But why?

That question didn't need to mean anything.

'Anyhow, I think we're safe with me flying us to the base. Head is still a little wonky, no thanks to you, and the ol' body could be a bit better, but we're not crashing yet! Hopefully Angie is back from her mission soon to have a look atcha. You have some kinda poison in you, right? That and a bunch of crazy experiments were done to make you…you? Completely daft.'

She simply wouldn't be quiet. How could one go on talking like this? It was almost like dealing with Sombra. Although, Widow would admit, Tracer had sincere kindness behind everything she said, whereas that manipulative hacker laced every syllable with sarcasm and lies. If she had to choose, the Overwatch agent was the lesser of two evils…barely.

'You gonna let me be the only one talkin' here, Luv? I was told to keep you mentally aware, or what have you. Apparently, it's better than leaving your mind to its own devices. Mental breakdowns and so forth. Might be a touch easier if you said something, too. Otherwise, I might have to start singin', and believe you me, I wouldn't wish that on my greatest enemies.'

So, that was it. She was…trying to help. Unbelievable. But Widowmaker did feel more grounded. If she wanted to carry out her plan competently, perhaps it was best to play along for the time being. It would be that much more satisfying if Widow betrayed this foolish girl's ignorant trust when the time came if the hero of Overwatch actually thought she had managed to "save" Widowmaker.

'Don't sing.' Widow mumbled, and she could hear Tracer shifting in her seat ahead.

'Aha! She speaks! Heheh!'

'Of course. I simply choose not to in most cases.'

'Oh? And why's that?'

'Because it's tiresome.'

'Not because you're shy, Luv?'

'…No.'

'I don't know about that. But it's okay. A cool, silent beauty can be something else as well.'

'That doesn't matter to me.'

'Guess not anymore, huh? It's all about Talon now, right?'

'…Correct.'

'Why?'

That annoying question.

'Because I must.'

'Right. And why must you, I'm guessin', work for them?'

'It's the only way.'

'To…?'

Widowmaker's temple pulsated, and she twisted in place, her bound position causing a dull sense of anger to rise in her stomach.

'To kill.' Widow's eye twitched, and she tried to sneer. 'Just as I killed that dull omnic and you could do nothing about it. Just as I'll kill again and again the second I am able.'

'Ooh, scary. Nice try, too, but I know you're only like that because of Talon. Read your bio after our tussle in my hometown. You used to be a professional ballet dancer? I bet you were super popular. I mean, with a body like that…er…I don't mean to be rude, but honestly. Shiver!'

Not the reaction Widowmaker was suspecting, and mention of her supposed past only served to reverse the intended results.

'You would dismiss your failure so easily?'

'Trust me; I think about it more than I should, I'm sure, but I'm not holding it against you anymore. That wouldn't be fair.'

'When is life fair, little girl?'

'Touché. But that doesn't mean I can't try and make it just a touch better for some people, right?'

Widowmaker decided that she hated Tracer more than ever in that moment. Her optimism was grating. Her innocence was borderline lunacy. Her desire to be a "hero" was nauseating. Widow hated her. She truly hated her. She couldn't wait to break her once and for all.

And yet, you keep talking.

'Like me.'

'Like you. Heheh.'

'You're wasting your time. Even now, I am imagining the best way to kill you.'

'Well, yeah, because that's how Talon made you.'

She said it so matter-of-factly. Widow crunched her teeth together. She was better off numb. But she couldn't let this go. She wanted to break through whatever was protecting this girl's resolve. Nobody was so selfless. Nobody.

'They only experimented on my body. My mind remains as it was.'

'That's a load of bull and you know it.'

'You don't know anything about me.'

'I know enough, but yeah, feel free to tell me more. How about your favourite drink? We can start with that!'

Widowmaker shook her head, rolling her eyes.

'You cannot be serious.'

'Sure! We got some time to kill, and chatting is obviously helping, so why not? I'm guessing a wine of some kind, right? Ice wine? Super expensive stuff? You'd be a pricey date, I can tell. I'd personally be willing to spend a pretty penny on you myself though. I'm thinkin' more than a few guys would feel the same.'

Widowmaker blinked, her brain processing Tracer's words and a few of her other comments leading up to this point.

'You…desire women?' She suddenly asked, wondering why the question meant anything at all to her. Boredom was a fearsome foe, indeed. Not only that, but Moira's toxin was being kept at bay. Widow needed to survive for now. She required her consciousness to pull off the developing plan in her mind.

'You didn't know? Hahah! Wasn't there a big ol' announcement somewhere? Made waves on the internet and all that? Maybe not. But yeah. As you so classily put it: I "desire" women and women only. I mean, Jack was cute way back when, don't get me wrong, but would I be all lovey dovey with the guy? Nah. Couldn't imagine. Knew it when I was, like, ten or something. Talked one of my friends into kissing "for fun" or whatever. Yep. Couldn't pretend from that point on. It's not nearly as big a deal as it used to be, from what I know, but that doesn't mean there aren't lotsa folks who don't look at you funny here and there. Guess it's still a bit of an uphill battle even these days. Crazy, right?'

'It is unnatural.' Widowmaker concluded easily.

'Oi. You serious, Luv?'

'The purpose of a relationship is to reproduce, no? What is the point of two women being together?'

'Uh, yeah, us humans aren't like "normal" animals. We have what's called "feelings", and they sorta change, oh, everything.'

'I wouldn't know.'

'Sure, you don't. Well, let me tell you; who you fall in love with sometimes isn't a choice, and some of us just sorta look past "gender" and see the soul of someone. Not only that, but I think a bunch of us just like what we like and find certain things appealing just because. Like food. Or drinks. Hard to explain "why" you enjoy certain tastes; you just do. Make sense?'

'…It doesn't truly matter to me.'

'So, you still think it's weird?'

'For a woman to make love to another woman?'

'Yeah.'

Widowmaker had never given it much consideration before, really. She had no reason to. Her instinctual reaction was as she vocalized, but she wasn't incapable of following what Tracer said either. Nonetheless, Tracer's confidence had evidently been shaken ever so slightly, and Widow couldn't say she minded that.

'I do. Your reasoning isn't false, I suppose, but you can't argue against my point either. It is "unnatural". A man and woman are simply more compatible. The physical attributes dictate as much, do they not?'

My, how you've found your voice suddenly.

'…Fine. We'll agree to disagree. It's not worth arguing with you about.'

'Giving up, are we?'

'Is there a point to trying to convince you? I went through that phase already. I've learned my lesson. Cheers. Done.'

A pause, the humming of the aircraft's engine vibrating the whole ship soothingly. Tracer evidently knew how to handle an aircraft. Her piloting skills were rather impressive, to say the least. Regardless, there was something to be said about a disheartened Tracer, if only subtly. Widowmaker proceeded, as she found her mind working better than it had in quite some time due to the engagement she had initially been forced to participate in.

'Perhaps if I had the opportunity to experiment with such deviations, I might be forced to change my mind.'

The aircraft shifted sharply suddenly, and the corner of Widow's mouth twitched.

'Ahem!' Tracer cleared her throat. 'D-didn't know you were one for jokes, Luv.'

'I don't joke.'

'R-really. Hahah! Gotcha. Well, once we get your head back into shape maybe I'd be willing to give you a few pointers.'

'Truly? Only if you'd also be willing to risk a swift death.'

'Right. Right.'

Widowmaker breathed out slowly, staring at the ceiling of her cell. What did she want? What was the truth her mind craved when it allowed moments like this? The urge to kill was ever festering, yet something in this conversation sparked a distant echo in her head and heart. It hurt. It was uncomfortable. It was always followed by a "treatment", yet Moira was nowhere to be found, and her toxin was temporarily being kept at bay.

It was…difficult.

'Sorry about the cuffs, Luv. Hope you're not too uncomfortable.'

Widow closed her eyes then, feeling her pupils scratching against her lids. This anxiety was consuming her. There was no way out. She would be experimented on…again. Talon would punish her for being captured. Would she ever be allowed to kill after today? She couldn't imagine a life without such an order. No. Impossible. She couldn't do it.

'Let me go.' Widow mumbled dryly.

'Not happening. You wanna go back? Really?'

'Let me go.' She repeated, a soulless anger building.

'No. I'm gonna save you. I promised.'

Rapid blinks, a stabbing pain returning. Mission failed. Captured by an enemy. No way out.

'Let me go.' Desperate. Widow could feel a puzzle falling into place in her programing. Her neuro-reconfiguration was piecing together a code as the reality of the scene clicked, fulfilling requirements one after another.

'Okay. Maybe ask one more time and I'll think about it, 'kay?'

'Let me go!' Widowmaker screamed so loud the aircraft dipped again.

'Oi! Didn't know you could hit that octave! I was kidding, Luv. What's gotten into you?'

'Please…' Widow murmured, her neck tightening and heart beating almost like a real human's. The final pieces clicked. Captured. No escape. Enemy tampering. Talon investigation. Mental probing. Lost information. Valuable tool. No way out. No way out. No way out.

Don't listen!

Self-destruct.

'Ah…! Ahhh! Aha…!' Widowmaker groaned, her back arching and her cuffs crashing into the seats.

'Whoa! Bloody hell, Luv! What's this all of a sudden!?'

No way out. No way out. No way out. No way out. No way out.

Self-destruct. Self-destruct. Self-destruct. Self-destruct. Self-destruct.

'Ugh…! Ah…! Ahhh…! Ngh…!' She continued to flail in place, slamming her body on the ground over and over and over.

'Jesus!' Tracer cursed, but Widow's vision was blurred. Nothing was making sense. Her arms and legs bound, there was only one option. No other choice. Long live, Talon. Long live…Talon…

Widow gagged, blood from Tracer's hand in her mouth. She was ready to bite through her own tongue, but the foolish girl had interfered.

'Ow! Ow! Ow! Oh, bloody bloody hell you can chomp! Oi! Oi! Oi! Shoulda kept the gloves on! Oh, God! Honestly!'

The puzzle fell apart, shattering in her mind and littering the holes plaguing the broken assassin's brain. Her head twitched, a spasm shaking her into a momentary fit of insanity, and a single word fell through her slightly parted lips, the air frozen with its distant delivery.

'…Merci.'