CHAPTER 3
RURAL JAPAN
Widow cursed under her breath as the midday heat seared her sensitive skin. There was a reason she always undertook her missions at night: the blueness of her skin gave her little to no protection against the sun's roasting rays.
It was no matter, she would do it even if it meant she had to lather on some aloe later back at the Talon hideout. She had been dragging the corpse of this tin can for over half a day now. Reaper insisted that the pickup was far away from the kill point, although she hadn't communicated to him that she had not disposed of her original target yet. She was hesitant to tell him of her failure before he could admire her prize she won in exchange for Hanzo.
She was finally within sight of the Talon helicopter. In this moment, her skin tight suit was a burden heavier than the world as she wished for a flare. 'You have to travel light.' Gabriel says, although even brainwashed girls knew when someone just wanted to stare at their ass. Whatever, I'll kick Gabe's shit in when I get back.
Boarding the chopper was a breeze on her own, but a bit of a chore with this unconscious POV. As the blades whirred, she looked out over Japan's wilderness. It was truly a beautiful country. Green plains with lush forests, an utterly stunning sight to behold. For a moment, she almost felt something…
Widow snapped out of her trance of possible emotion. She was programmed not to experience any positive feelings. She set her sights ahead, away from the beauty of Japan's nature. On with the war. She thought to herself as the helicopter took off, bound for the Talon hideout.
TALON HIDEOUT - REAPER'S DEN
"So let me get this straight, you didn't do what you were told but you brought this piece of junk back. Why should I reward you again?" Reaper asked, visibly pissed off. Widow tried to explain. "He's not just some omnic, have the scientists take a look at him. I swear he must be connected to the Shimadas, I saw him use a spirit dragon."
"Tsk tsk tsk, Miss Lacroix-". Reaper teased, she cut him off: "Don't you dare call me by the name." She threatened as she grabbed his wrist tightly. Reaper was even more angry now. He threw his slave off of him and the guards that stood by the door of his den took hold of her. "Put her in the freezer, make sure she isn't allowed out until she relearns her sense of respect."
No, not the freezer, I can't go back there! She frantically thought as she thrashed about. "Fuck! No! Have mercy!" She yelled as the Talon agents carried her away, and out of Reaper's sight.
He chuckled. Amélie was the prime example of how Talon had conquered Overwatch. She was the wife of Gerard, who was an Overwatch agent, and was trained to kill her husband and all his colleagues. Of course she wouldn't have done all those things willingly, oh no.
The scientists who developed Talon's technology conducted a series of experiments on her. They had found a way to program her to do their bidding by totally wiping her memory of her husband and of all her time at Overwatch.
In addition to her mental state changing, they engineered her to be faster, stronger, and she could even see more clearly. There was much emphasis on the third enhancement, as it allowed her to have an impeccable aim with a sniper rifle. You may be wondering: 'Despite all those things, why was she blue?'
A fair question. Reaper didn't really know why her skin had turned blue after all the experiments. Some more poetic members of Talon guessed that her heart had died, and she now was among the walking dead. Others say it was just how her body reacted to the chemicals they pumped into her. However, Mr. Reyes's theory was much more simple. All her time in the freezer must've had some kind of impact on her physical state, right?
TALON HIDEOUT - THE FREEZER
The guard's tossed her into the frigid room she was all too familiar with. Her pleading had only made the men more rough with her. It was disgustingly frozen and dark in this personal hell of hers.
Normally, she focused on surviving when she was thrown in here. This time, however, Widow was in no mood to act strong. She began wailing at the top of her lungs as she banged against the door. Perhaps they would let her out if she made enough noise, as her fingers were already starting to feel frost bitten.
Someone caused a clatter on the other side of the heavy iron door, and yelled to her. "If you don't stop, you'll be in there an extra hour!" Widow was struck with the deep dread of residing in this icy prison.
Instead of continuing, she sat in the corner, sobbing. She would wait for the three or four hours to be over. Although, as the warm years rolled down her face, they froze midway down her cheeks. Only here in this place was when she felt a freak, a monster; irredeemable of any of her sins. The Widowmaker, or as she felt in this moment: The weak and fragile Amélie Lacroix, rocked herself in the corner as her skin grew ever bluer.