Time and patience. Those were the two things that Widowmaker had more than enough of.
Since their last encounter, she had regrouped herself. She sat in her private quarters and logged journals of Tracer's movements, noting every thing no matter how small. Anything could be an advantage to her in the right moment.
Lena Oxton might have been the epitome of what people might consider a 'class clown', but behind those walls she knew that what existed was a kind, gentle soul that wouldn't see harm come to anything or anyone. This, she had decided, would be her downfall in time.
Once she was convinced she had fully recovered from her mental breakdown several days prior, she resumed her tracking and patrols of the legging clad woman.
It was a rather cool day, even by her own standards. Every so often the sky let loose a smattering of raindrops, the clear liquid running streaks down the front of her visor, much to her disdain and leading to her using her forearm to wipe it dry as best she could.
This particular day, she followed with measured caution as Tracer made her way through to the middle class district of the city, coming to a stop outside of a several story building that resembled something from the late 1800's. An eyebrow quirked up in interest, her fingers sliding around her scope to adjust the focus so she could inspect the location.
It was surrounded by heavy steel fencing painted an off-white colour, a large wooden plaque hanging beside a pair of gates that proclaimed in cursive writing that it was an Orphanage, that word alone making Widowmaker pull back instinctively from her scope as though struck in the eye.
After a moment of thought, she decided it was exactly like that annoyingly kind woman to be paying a visit to an Orphanage. Perhaps she felt more at home among children such as herself.
That thought in itself brought a crooked smirk to Widowmaker's lips, and she returned her eye to the scope, quickly bringing the skinny woman back into frame.
She watched carefully, following every movement as Tracer announced her arrival at the establishment. It didn't take long for a horde of children of all ages to come rushing out into the exercise yard, swarming the petite woman and gushing over her as though she was a God given gift. She let a soft grunt fall from her lips, but continued regardless.
In fact, after a good long while it was almost endearing to watch as Lena laughed and played with the children, her arms flailing wildly and her body zipping about as though she was describing desperate battles in an incredibly dramatic fashion. At one point, she picked up a girl who would have been no more than six years old, hoisting her on her shoulders and running about with her as though she were an aeroplane.
Her lip twitched, and something tickled at the back of her throat. It was unexpected, and made her jolt with surprise, but it was too late to take back the soft sound of laughter as it spilled out of her.
She shook her head lightly, as though trying to separate herself from invisible webs. Returning her eyes to the sight, she spotted something... unusual.
Squinting, she lightly twisted the zoom and adjusted her rifle until she could see into the window of the building next to the orphanage. It looked abandoned at first glance, but she was sure she had seen something in the third story window.
Stilling herself, she waited patiently and... there!
She could just make out the dark shadow of a shape lingering behind the frame of a window, and although she could not see his face or eyes, she could clearly tell that his vision was focussed solely on Tracer. Her lip curled into a sneer. Had Talon sent out another agent to watch her?
The shadowy figure shifted suddenly, lifting a glinting metal object into vision and aiming it down towards Lena. It was a rifle, but nothing like Widowmaker's own. It appeared old and weathered, heavier and not suitable for close range combat or rapid fire.
A moment of panic overtook Widowmaker and she wasn't sure where it came from, quickly checking on Tracer only to see the Brit hadn't noticed the other assassin, too preoccupied with the children. Sweeping her rifle back up, she took aim within less than a second and fired towards the still mass of black and metal.
The bullet pinged as it hit the end of his rifle, sending the weapon scattering from his hands. His vision shifted towards Widowmaker, and she used the opportunity to take another shot. Crack!
She had intended for a kill shot, but he had dived out the window the second he realised he was under attack, his body falling gracefully through the air like a trained acrobat. As he fell, it became apparent he was wearing a heavy trench coat, and it flowed around him as he reached the ground and landed with a heavy thud.
At this point, Tracer had finally noticed the attack happening, her eyes darting between Widowmaker's nest and the opponent now stalking towards her. She ushered the children back quickly, allowing one of the female caretakers to rush them inside to safety.
Widowmaker watched as the robed man rushed towards Tracer, whipping out a short barrelled weapon that appeared to be an automatic shotgun, the shimmering black of its metal glistening as though it had just been polished. Tracer zipped, and teleported, clearing the yard of the orphanage and making her way down the street.
She watched as the man chased Lena, black smoke trailing from his coat as he appeared to move with an unnatural ease, keeping up with the elusive Brit.
There was no denying it, there was something incredibly impressive about the way Tracer moved. There one minute, gone the next. Impossible to follow with your eyes but if you stopped for just a second and allowed yourself to connect with her through a tenuous, invisible string, you might just be able to keep up with her.
The two raced through the streets, the man showering her with shots whenever he grew close enough, only to have Tracer zip away with barely a millisecond to spare, shards of metal spraying the concrete walls of buildings and startling nearby commuters.
Then they moved through an alley, Widowmaker growling softly as she lost vision of them, deciding she needed to re-position on an adjacent building to regain sight of the battle.
Extending her arm, she shot her grapple across the street and swung gracefully across. Using her momentum from the swing, she ran up the side of the building, leaping up onto the rooftop like a predatory ballerina before disconnecting her grapple and continuing the chase.
She heard gunfire to the east, her vision snapping in that direction and her feet taking off before she had time to even command them to.
Skidding to the end of the rooftop, she looked down. It was in that moment that the man lined up an almost too perfect shot, taking Tracer by surprise. She was just barely able to avoid the bullet spray, warping around and behind him, which must have been exactly what he had been expecting.
Spinning around, he rammed an elbow into Tracer's chest, the force of the blow knocking her backwards several steps and making her fall to her knees.
A sharp sound rang through the air, Amélie did not realise it was her own voice, hoarse and desperate.
Kill him, kill him! She is yours, not his! He has no right to steal what is yours! Kill him!
Tracer looked down at her chronal accelerator, the bright blue light flickering ever so slightly. It was enough to make her face pale as she tilted her eyes up to face her hunter. Even if it was only on the blink for a few seconds, that was enough for him to finish her; time seemed to slow as the shotgun was raised slowly towards her until it was at forehead level with the girl.
Suddenly the sound of wet gurgling filled the air, and the sound of something sharp pushing through flesh.
Widowmaker smirked, twisting the blade through the man's spine while pulling him close, close enough that he could feel the heat of her breath on his ear.
"She is mine."
Wrenching the knife from his back, she brought her arm about him and slid the blade across his neck with such ease his skin could have been made of paper. A wave of euphoria overtook her as she felt warm liquid spilling freely across her fingers and hand, closing her eyes for just a moment before letting the man's body fall to the ground.
Adrenaline coursed through her body, but her hateful need had been somewhat sated. She stepped over his body towards Lena, who peered up at her with foggy, questioning eyes.
It was as though she was waiting for something that never came. A scolding from the Brit for killing the man, a thinly veiled flirt or one of her endlessly teasing sentiments. When nothing came, she extended a hand, watching with a stony expression as hazel eyes regarded first her hand, and then her face. Then, her hand again, before her lips pursed into a thoughtful pout and she reached out her own hand, fingers curling around slender blue.
Widowmaker tugged the girl to her feet, giving her body a once over with steely eyes, checking for injuries even as Tracer dusted the dirt from herself and plastered one of those stupid grins onto her face.
"Jeez luv, at this rate peoples are gonna' think you're sweet on me," flicking a strand of hair out of her eyes, those hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. "Rescuin' a damsel in distress and all."
She could feel voices swirling in her head again, whispering and muttering, but it was muted. Her brow crinkled and her lips just barely parted as though she was about to say something, but changed her mind. All too suddenly she was aware of just how close the two of them were, Lena's scent once again making her nostrils twitch and a strange twisting sensation form in her gut.
As if by a will not entirely her own- she was all too familiar with this- she reached out, her cold, calloused fingers wrapping around that tiny, warm little neck in a firm grasp. Using her weight, she swung Lena around until her back landed hard against the alley way wall, a soft grunt escaping her lips from the impact and a brief questioning stare lingering in her eyes.
A gentle pulsing sensation bounced against her fingertips, most certainly not her own heartbeat, but Lena's. It increased even more as she closed the distance between them, their noses almost touching as they held each others gaze.
Twisting gently against her hold, but not trying to escape, Tracer broke the burning silence between them.
"Well... you gonna' keep starin' at me like that? Or ya' gonna' kiss me, sweet thing?"
Amélie's eyes flickered, her intense gaze softening with an intense warmth that she thought she might burn a hole right through the woman, her head swirling with fog.
Kiss her, kiss her, it's what you want, feel her warmth, taste her...
Her grip moved from Lena's neck, sliding up her jawline and curling around the back of her head, grasping a good fistful of hair; it felt like silk against her skin, a sensation that made her shudder. Pulling her in, their lips met, and she immediately fell into the smaller woman.
Though she towered over Lena, she felt so small herself. Using her free hand she pressed it forcefully against the wall, struggling to hold herself up as Lena's lips parted. There was a brief moment where time slowed, her mouth opening and welcoming the softness of Lena's tongue, a white hot shock running down her spine and all the way to her toes. The sensation was unlike anything she had felt in... such a long time.
She pulled Lena closer, deepening the kiss. Her knees buckled and nearly gave way, but a slender arm wrapped around her waist and kept her upright and close. It felt amazing, so warm, so tender. It was sending a thrill through her body that she could only remember ever getting from her kills.
A soft moan left Lena's throat, that sound alone making Amélie gasp for breath, the Brit breaking the kiss but staying close enough that she could still feel the puffs of her breath against her skin.
And then, Lena said something that almost broke her, leaving her absolutely breathless and feeling as though she might fall into the void right there and then.
Tracer ran a hand across her lower back, a wicked smile crossing her lips. "Mmm, you taste even better than I imagined luv."
In the blink of an eye, Amélie had pulled herself away before the rising heat on her cheeks became visible, extending her grapple to the roof above and zipping away to leave Lena there all by herself and wondering what the hell just happened.
"Sweet thing? Was it somethin' I said?"
When no reply came, Tracer kicked the ground and allowed herself a few seconds of pouting.
"Bollocks."