Widowmaker

Widow wasn't sure how long she had been staring in the mirror. She hadn't bothered with the primary lights of her little living space, having only a tiny lamp in the main area of her quarters illuminating just enough so that she could make out the shape of her face and shoulders in the rather small reflection. She attempted to picture herself as she was before Talon had conducted their experiments on her. What colour had her eyes been? What shade was her skin naturally? She felt a little guilty for applying more pressure to Dr. Ziegler, but honestly, she had a growing respect and trust for the woman. She had, after all, successfully undone much of Talon's damage. She owed her forevermore, really.

She felt different. That was a given. But Widow hadn't known how much Talon had been twisting her brain for so long. The subtle suggestions of death and destruction. The thirst for combat. The need to kill. They all lingered, like an echo, but the urges to act on such desires had left her almost completely. She wanted to do…other things now. Eat a fine meal. Watch the sun set. Shop for pretty clothes. Go for a walk. Paint, even. Paint? Had she enjoyed such a pastime before? And, naturally, dance. She wanted to dance more than anything else.

Widow lifted her body, her toes remembering the demand and aching at the practise but also reveling in the familiar pain. Her overall mass was heavier than before, she supposed. More muscular. Stronger. Deadlier. What sort of dance could she perform now? Now that needles weren't stabbing her brain on the regular, how could she enchant an audience? How could she tell a story through movements of her body?

She relaxed, her descent a little rough, and sighed. Inevitably, she thought of that troublesome girl as well. She missed her already, and that irked her. The quiet of her quarters wasn't entirely unwelcome, but boredom was beginning to tug at her nerves, and the want to participate in regular activities was truly an unprecedented hurdle. Before, Widow had been capable of staring at a wall and being perfectly content. Planning the next kill. Mentally training. Sleeping. When her past brain wasn't required, and unless she put forth active effort, she was capable of engaging a form of hibernation until the next mission. The next assassination. The next murder.

Widow lurched, vomiting suddenly into the sink, gripping at the sides of the cold granite as the fluids poured out of her mouth, burning her throat and causing her eyes to water.

Another side effect of truly "feeling" again. Regret. Shame. Despair. How many lives had she ruined? How many families were torn apart because of her? She could barely recall much before the Mondatta kill. That one stuck with her, of course. But before that? How many Overwatch agents had she struck down without a second thought? Living here, in Overwatch Gibraltar, it made it clearer than ever; every single individual that fought for Overwatch had a family of some kind. She had destroyed such a valuable piece of one's life.

Widow poured more guck into the drain, groaning painfully and feeling the tears burning her eyes. She stumbled to her tiny kitchen, shakily grabbing at the pills Angela had provided for this very reason. They would help with her transition, nulling her senses to a degree and preventing her from giving in to madness. Widow downed a couple of the large capsules and whimpered, gripping at her stomach and the emptiness she sometimes experienced.

Family. Talon had ripped the word from her world, and it hurt so very, very much. Again, despite having endured the pain of knowing what had happened to her recently, now that Talon's work on her brain wasn't constantly attempting to prevent her from caring, it all hit her without mercy, and she was trembling with agony.

'Lena…' Widow heard herself whisper, holding her sides and crumbling onto the floor. Being left alone was horrible now. It was partially why she had wanted to go on the mission to Rialto to begin with. Widow had a feeling this would happen. Her emotions were, as Moira had made clear many times, irrefutably troublesome in their intensity.

Suddenly, two thuds in succession were heard outside her room, and goosebumps pervaded Widow's body. She was still a capable assassin, having been through inhumane training to make her the perfect killer. Danger was beyond her door. Two, maybe three presences lurked. Just as abruptly, the whole base shook, as if explosions were set off nearby, and Widow stood up, looking around her living quarters for anything to use as a weapon. Only a single set of utensils, really. A knife. A fork. They would have to do…assuming she was dealing with a human.

The intercom beeped, and Widow held her breath.

"Howdy there, little lady. Heard there's a gal calling herself Widowmaker takin' up residence here."

A female voice. A venomous, dangerous female voice. Widow could tell. She was a killer. There was pain in her tone. A difficult past? A hardened soul? Who was this woman and how confident was she to knowingly confront the Widowmaker of Talon? If this was, indeed, a terrorist attack, what was Talon after?

Widow didn't respond. She saw no benefit in doing so. Only certain Overwatch agents had the authority to override her lock and let themselves in. She stepped back slowly, away from the door, and glanced about, the dread of being trapped beginning to suffocate her. Another missed benefit of having an altered brain; she rarely experienced fear. Now, starting with the thought of losing Lena on her current mission, Widow knew what it was like to be scared for her life without any form of dulling influence.

"Heh. Gonna play that kinda game, huh? I ain't usually into these sorta jobs, but when someone waves that kinda cash in my face, what's a girl to do? You understand, right?"

Widow knew what came next. Forced entry. She would have to fight enough to escape. She was thankful for being in comfortable clothing, although they lacked any form of protection. Tight, black pants and a tank top did little against bullets of any kind.

"Attention, Overwatch. The beginning of your end is here at last. You have two options: Surrender gracefully to your fate of destruction, or struggle and be wiped from this planet regardless."

Another voice, but this one instantly made Widow's knees buckle and sent a sharp pain through her mind. She recognized that terrible sound. She had only heard it seldomly, but the weight of its demands lingered. Strip naked. Walk through Talon's base. It hadn't bothered her then. It did now. Her face burned at the recollection. The voice belonged to the "supposed" leader of Talon. His name was never uttered, and part of Widow believed there was more to it than his apparent omniscient presence. Was he really here?

"Hm. Angela Ziegler. Mercy. Grandmaster class. One of the most valued members of Overwatch. A pleasure to finally speak with you."

No. If she was targeted…!

"Last time I'm gonna knock, little lady. I ain't gonna ask nicely again."

Widow's mind was swirling. Too much was happening at once. The timing couldn't be worse. She was still somewhat fresh out of her operation. What was she capable of at this moment? Was this all planned? Was she going back to Talon?

"You wish to know who I am?" The mechanical voice again. Was it still speaking directly to Dr. Ziegler?

"Tch. Fine. The rough way it is." The woman outside of Widow's door grunted, and an explosion sounded not a moment later, damaging Widow's door enough to allow the construct to be kicked down, the owner of the dangerous threats stepping through the smoke, waving at the dark mist and presenting herself to Widow. She was tall and slender, with platinum hair, prominent, red lipstick, and a piercing stare, her thick mascara making her sharp eyes even more threatening. Her outfit reminded Widow of that ridiculous cowboy, McCree, right down to the metallic-looking arm that she brandished what appeared to be a semi-automatic rifle with. Three ruffians grinned stupidly behind her. None of these individuals seemed like true Talon agents. As the seeming leader of the little group had suggested, they were evidently hired guns.

'Name's Ashe. How you doin'?'

Widow glared, almost insulted this was all Talon thought they needed to subdue her. How powerful was this woman?

'Get out.' Widow hissed, shifting her feet upon the ground and spacing them apart just right, gripping the utensils in her hands.

"Fareeha Amari. Master class. A promising agent. A shame your true potential will never be realized."

It was hard to focus. With that monster's voice over the base's main speakers, the flashing alarm lights and sirens, and this Ashe woman laughing with her eyes at Widow, how was she supposed to counterattack coherently?

'After I made this trip specially for you? Don't think so. Ya'll can come quietly, or I can take you in by force. Choice is yours, precious.'

Widow's eye twitched. Oh, really? You and what army? The insults were compounding.

"It's the natural course of your reality now, Ms. Amari."

What was being said on the other end?

'Fine. Guess I'm gonna hafta rough you up a bit.' Ashe shouldered her gun, smirking as she traversed closer. Foolish woman. Step into the web, if you dare, fly.

"Gladly. Will Dr. Ziegler be capable of 'reviving' you again when I'm done ripping you in half before her very eyes?"

Damn it. Stop talking, you machine.

'Hmph. That's a wee bit violent.' Ashe chuckled.

'Er…Boss? Didn't they say we shouldn't mess with her too much?' One of the lackeys reminded Ashe.

'Shut up! I do things my way or no way. Just watch and learn.'

"Heh. Take heed, Overwatch. Yes, I hear you, Winston. Calm yourself. You'll have your turn. Now, where was I? Yes. Take heed, Overwatch, for this foolish girl will be the first to die; die by the hands of…Nemesis."

Nemesis!? Was that his name? If he was revealing who he was, then…! This was serious. Widow didn't have time to play games with these hooligans. She had to find Dr. Ziegler. Compartmentalize priorities. Save the most vital members of Overwatch first and foremost. Don't get captured. She didn't want to go back. Never. Never!

'Oh? Look like a rattlesnake 'bout to snap. Heh. Let's see what you're made of – '

Widow dashed forward, kicking Ashe's legs from under her and catching her mid-fall, grappling her throat and squeezing tight, the woman immediately coughing, elbowing Widow in the stomach and flailing wildly. In moments she would be unconscious, and her boys could only raise their guns hesitantly, aware that their "boss" was now a human shield.

'You…bitch…!' Ashe gasped, and Widow almost smirked until the spitfire in her grasp screamed out desperately. 'Bob! Do something…!'

Bob? One of these pathetic lackeys?

Widow's whole entrance caved in, and suddenly, an enormous omnic was crashing through her living quarters. She hardly caught a glance of the machine before the air was knocked out of her, and she was pinned into the opposite wall so hard it nearly caved in as well. Widow's vision blurred, and she vomited again, blood mixed in with the rancid bile.

'Tch. Give her a light tap to teach her who's the boss now, will ya?' Ashe murmured angrily.

Widow clenched her jaw, and no sooner had she done so did Bob take a swing at her face, the impact shaking her brain and practically knocking her completely unconscious.

'Yer goin' back, "Widowmaker". Talon paid me enough to buy a small city to bring you in. Guess they heard how ol' Ashe can get things done when she needs to, huh?'

'Coward…' Widow cursed in French angrily. 'You had no chance…against me…'

'True. True. Had a bit more bite than I anticipated. But that's why Bob's here. Either way, I get paid. Don't care about no honour or nothin'.'

Fear gripped at Widow's heart then. Back to Talon? Back to that living hell? Without Lena? Without her dance? Without…anything!? No. God, no. Not now…Not when she finally accepted her life again.

'They…killed my husband.' She muttered urgently.

'Heh. Men are pigs, and people die all over the world all the time. What do I care?'

Widow clenched her eyes shut.

'They made me a monster…'

'Obviously. Might be better off dead, right?'

'They…killed my child before it was even born…'

This finally made Ashe's eyes flinch, but she steadied herself hastily, angling her gun under Widow's chin.

'Too bad, so sad. Life's merciless. We all learn that at some point. You were weak. Now you ain't. Grand, isn't it?'

This was…it? Was life so cruel? After everything she had been through, this was how it ended? Before, she could fathom killing herself to avoid returning to Talon, but Lena had prevented her from doing so then, and she inadvertently did the same now. No. That was the coward's way out. Lena would fight until the end. Kicking and screaming, Widow wouldn't make this easy. Never again. She wasn't anyone's plaything.

A strange beeping sounded suddenly, then, and Bob's grip loosened abruptly. As Widow's mind processed the miracle, Sombra appeared behind Ashe, a violet ray of light washing over her as she materialized on the spot, a gun pressed at the back of the woman's white head.

'Sombra online.' The Hispanic uttered, looking a little worse for wear.

'The hell is this?' Ashe frowned, and Widow peeled away from Bob, circling Ashe dangerously, as if stalking a prey.

'I suppose I owe you.' Widow spoke to her old "partner".

'Meh. Let's call it even. Overwatch doesn't do the whole killing thing, right?'

Widow was surprised. She half-expected Sombra to betray the organization, but she appeared to be serious about this particular allegiance.

'I…don't believe so.'

'…Bummer.' And the somewhat unpredictable girl knocked Ashe out with the butt of her gun, turning to the lackeys and pointing the weapon at them now. Widow cracked her neck, touching Sombra's shoulder softly.

'Allow me.'

Part of her still revelled in the fear that immediately developed in the men's eyes when they processed exactly what was about to happen to them. In no less than five seconds, Widow subdued them all, her athletic prowess and deadly physical capabilities more than enough to knock all of Ashe's cronies out cold.

Sombra whistled.

'Forgot how good you were.'

'That's because you were always sneaking around…like a rat.'

'Hey. You know I just saved you, right?'

'Indeed. But we are even, are we not?'

'Touché.' Sombra glanced around, tapping at Widow's door terminal and playing around with the device, frustration coming over her normally relaxed, almost taunting expression. 'I need to get to the tower. Can't do a thing with this firewall in place.'

'What's happening, precisely?' Widow asked, but Sombra just grunted, beckoning the assassin to follow her and sneak into another vacant room nearby, locking the door behind them and doing something to the door's terminal in their new location.

'That Nemesis guy or whatever? He's a super computer like Athena, except he's got an actual body and the whole dealio. I can't find a way into the network. He's got it totally compromised. That uber monkey guy's got some decent rigs in the tower over yonder, but getting there's gonna be a bitch. Can't do a thing about the lockdown until then. Tried to send a signal to the team off in Rialto, but it was just a blip, and they might've missed it. I'm guessin' they're gonna try and capture you, free Moira, and kill peeps like "Mercy" and such. Grand time to join the losing side, huh?'

'If you truly thought they would be defeated, you wouldn't be here.'

Sombra chuckled at this.

'You'd think. But this is a bad situation all around, Spider. They already infiltrated this place…hard. Reaper's killed a whole bunch of agents, and the body count is climbing. I can't even get out because that Nemesis freak has his own barrier set up that'll totally give me away if I step outside the base. Oh, and there's a bunch of black omnics creeping around. Freaky things, I tell ya.'

"Enough resisting, ladies. You'll only hurt yourselves…"

Widow swallowed.

'He's not talking to us.' Sombra reiterated. 'I programmed a dummy feed here when we stepped in. I'm guessin' he's trying to take out the angel and her moody knight. Girls' got guts; I'll give them that.'

'We need to help them. If Dr. Ziegler falls, Overwatch is crippled.'

Sombra raised a brow, grinning slyly.

'And you can never be "normal" again.'

Widow didn't have an answer to that. Perhaps that was partially true, but at the same time…Lena cared about the people here. If that wasn't reason enough to help, then what was?

'Heh. I'm teasing ya.' Sombra shrugged. 'Fine. I know where they are, but it's a red zone. Reaper is stalking the monkey's tower, locking that place down, and I think this Nemesis freak is personally going after our good doctor. Sure you wanna go?'

Widow didn't hesitate. She wasn't that woman anymore. It was…refreshing.

'Yes.'

'I can't hack the guy easily, I'm sure. And we don't have time to grab your gun. We'll have to snag something for you off a corpse.'

Corpse?

'I told you; Talon's serious this time. It's not so hot out there.'

'…Fine.'

'Still not the talkative type, huh? Ah, well. Let's raise some hell and all that, alright?'

'Thanks.'

'Yuck.' Sombra's face construed sourly. 'Don't act all cute. It's gross. Put on your mean girl pants, Spider. We got a big job ahead of us.'

Widow nodded. She would fight. She would fight until her dying breath. Her perspective was vastly different now, and she would use this newfound strength to save lives instead of ending them. Like Lena, she would become a hero worthy of one of the best there was.