Disclaimer: Wah, wah, Don't own, wah wah, wah, wah Overwatch, wah wah. Meh. -Alec, 2k16, because Kate doesn't want to associate with me.
Author's (Alec) Notes: I'm sorry for how late this was, and we are fixing our schedule now so that these chapter can come more regularly. Also, I didn't know anyone read these. I just thought I was talking to a wall. But, due to you guys responding to a Jamison and Mako spin-off we will start writing one. This might take a while, since we have school and are trying to focus on this and I'm working on two one-shots. I think I can safely say expect the spin-off to be in December. P.s. This won't be a one-shot. Kate hates me, but I think they deserve more than a one-shot.
Chapter 5: Je Désirée la Sécurité
Amongst one of the many streets of New York sat a warehouse much like every other one similarly lined up beside it. Inside sat a woman, her feet placed on the desk in front of her as she leaned into the leather backing of the swivel chair. With little to nothing to do, she let out an exasperated sigh out of boredom, taking a second to push back the long hair that had fallen in her face, pushing the dark brown strands laced with lighter purple highlights and tucking it behind the pierced shell of her ear. With her fingers lingering towards her scalp, the pads of the woman's fingers brushed over the short, peach fuzz of her hair as if attempting to groom the other, finely shaved half. She moved on in her actions, beginning to picking at her long, purple painted nails, removing any trace of dirt or dust from underneath it with the tip of her thumb nail. The more she picked at them, the more her scarred eyebrows knit together, further examining. As she continued, her concentration was occasionally broken, looking up as she checked on the progress of one of her most recent programs executing on one of the LCD screens in front of her without error or halt. The action itself did little to hold her interest, the lines of code whizzing past the screen as the program debugged, giving her no time to read any part of it and analyze how much longer it had.
The quiet fans running of the computer beside her was the only noticeable sound in the cold stillness of the warehouse. With its cement flooring and thick walls, the chill of the outside morning air hung within the room. The woman glanced up from the current picking at her slightly chipped nail polish, looking over to the man in from her. Standing a good twenty feet away, he faced one of the rows of boxes, his phone pressed to his right ear as the hushed deepness of his voice could be heard through the one-sided conversation. Another order, no doubt.
Bending over her desk, the programmer propped up her head with her hand, the flat of her elbow making contact with the desk as the entertainment of the situation fully escaped her. With the new orders of the day having been filled out and the program in front of her currently running, amusement had quickly escaped her as the necessities had been done and the only other person in the building was currently occupied. Her eyes scanned the expanse in front of her, raking across the emptiness of the smooth cement floor, the wall opposite of it lined with a series of metal garage doors down the way. Opposite to the doors sat a rows upon rows of crate and boxes, each of which was stacked upon a metal framework that reached up towards the tall ceilings.
The squeaking of old hinges cut through the air, interrupting the whirring of modem fans and briefly halting the order being placed, her attention shifting to the right of her as the side door was pulled open. The loud clicking of heels making contact with the polished cement of the floor echoed through the air, a second pair of softer footsteps following it Through the open door emerged Talon's current working manager, her long dark hair put up into its usual high ponytail, every loose piece pinned back and kept free from her face, outlining ever softened angle and curve of it. The woman maintained her professional composition despite her current given location, the lowered neckline of her dark shirt underneath being covered and framed by her form-fitting black suit jacket, the outline of her hips and thighs shaped by the curve of her pencil skirt.
As she strode down the middle aisle towards the two to the back, a shorter man followed alongside her, his own segmented hair pulled back into a similar, shorter ponytail. The casualty of his street clothing clashed heavily with the manager's professional facade, a large green hoodie and pair of cargo shorts standing out from her all black attire. Over his shoulder was slung a pair of rollerblades, the boots black accented with little light green wheels, both scratched and accented with wear. The man hesitantly followed the woman in front of him, the anxiousness of the situation playing on his face as he tried to keep up with her longer, more purposeful strides. Amélie eyes were narrowed, glaring back at the man once she realized he was hesitant to follow behind. "Come on, Gabriel told me that it was an emergency."
She strode across the cement floor, heals clicking louder than they had before as she beelined towards the man in question, each step purposeful. "I'm not mad at you," Amélie began, enclosing the distance between the two of them, pulling his concentration away from the current celular conversation. "But, you know better," she left little room between the two, the woman sizing up the taller man, poking a finger to the middle of his chest as she jabbed the fabric of his shirt immediately under his sternum, her voice tight and stern. "Lucio could have been caught."
With the receiver still pressed to his ear, Gabriel muttered an, "I'll call you back," before pressing the small button at the bottom of the screen, putting an end to the call before stashing the phone into the pocket of his jacket.
The programmer sunk behind her computer screens and placed the hand supporting her chin to partially cover up her smile that began forming. Sitting back and keeping away, she watched as the usual drama began once again, starring her favorite bone-head of a boss and business partner, loving every frequent installment of it.
The man turned to face Amélie, looking over the impatient woman in front of her, the tip of her finger pointing harshly into his skin beneath the fabric of his shirt. His face was littered with reddened and paling scars, each hinting at previous altercations of his past, contrasting with the dark tan of his skin. Short, dark brown hair poked from out of his gray beanie, matching the color of his thick eyebrows and trimmed facial hair situated around his mouth, allowing the top of it to grow out into a thicker mustache.
Gabriel's dark eyes darted over to Lucio, eyeing the distant man before his gaze shifted downwards, glaring at the shorter woman. "It wasn't my fault." He said, placing a hand on her wrist to move the finger at his chest away from him. " I read the order. The time and place were correct."
"You should've looked closer." Amélie's voice grew tight, tone laced with accusation as her stance and demeanor did not lighten up, her hand dropping down to her side.
"Sombra!" He called out over his shoulder, attention shifting towards the woman currently hiding behind the computers, watching as the scene unfolded in front of her. "Pull up that order"
She slid her chair over a little upon being addressed, head poking out from behind one of her screens. Still slumped into the leather of it, she removed the hand from slightly covering her mouth and placed it back to propping up her head. "No can do boss. You told me to delete it."
"When did I do that?" His voice deepened in an anger that began to grow by each passing moment.
"You said, 'Sombra don't forget to to clean the files.'" Her heavily accented voice twisted around its usual sound, her tone deepening in her best mock attempt.
"Yes, clean, not get rid of."
"Ay dios mio. What do you think clean means? I go in there with a brush and scrub it?" Slight amusement began to play on her face as the usual stupidity of her boss was beginning to get to her.
Annoyance began to bubble up deep inside of him, frustration lacing his every word as his point remained misunderstood. "I mean, make sure no one is tracking your files."
Sombra laugh arrogantly at that, the corner of her lips turning up in a condescending smile."No me hagas reír. You think someone can track me?"
"So then," He began, now walking over to the desk only a handful of paces in front of him, "how often have you 'cleaned' away files?"
"Every time you've told me, boss. My computer is running at peak performance with no files on it." Sarcasm lightly laced her voice as she began opening up the application currently running, getting into the management settings before accessing the previous orders, selecting the document in question.
"What!" He hit the desk in front of him with the bottom of his fist, the flesh making hard contact with the firm wood.
"No puedo creer que tan estúpido eres. I only kid; I keep back-ups. I hoped that not even you were that stupid to really mean 'clean it'." Her eyes shot between the paper in question and her boss's gaze before a quick selection was made to the page, erasing the current meetup location and changing it to another one more frequently used.
"Then where is the order?" He asked, growing impatient with every passing second.
"Right here." Sombra said, pulling the copy fresh out of the printer, the paper still warm from the process. She held it up and to the side in a three-fingered grip as if to flaunt the proof.
He reached over and grabbed it from her hand, ripping the sheets away from her as he looked it over, scanning the text in a matter of seconds before scowl began forming on his face. "This isn't the right order, this isn't what I saw."
Amélie took a few steps forward over to the wooden desk that Gabriel had been standing in front of. "Let me see" She said, taking the paper out of his hand and giving it her own look over. It only took a matter of scanning to notice the glaringly obvious discrepancy. Her look raised from the paper to meet the man's eyes, her own gaze narrowing into that of a harsh glare. "So Lucio was making a delivery for no reason."
"This isn't right," he began in a saving attempt, verbally shoving aside the physical proof against him. "I know what I saw. Sombra show me the right one."
The programmer's gaze shot back to the screen in front of her, scrolling the wheel of her mouse as if giving an attempt to look further. "That's all the orders from that day," She stated simply, giving a short shrug of her shoulders.
Gabriel placed a hand over his face, rubbing at the bridge of his nose as if to diminish the tension in the air; all current blame being placed on his shoulders. "Fine, I messed up. Happy?!"
Amélie's reaction remained unmoving, an almost permanent unamused look resting on her face. "No. Because of you we are behind on orders and Lucio was almost caught, and that means we were almost caught." Her eyes remaining narrowed upon Gabriel's as the paper in her hand became crumpled up in her grip. "I expect better of you next time."
"Who do you think you are?" He asked, almost taken aback by the attempt to size him up, questioning his authority and motive behind the mistake.
"Apparently the only one here who is competent." She verbally waved off the other man, sick of his lack of knowledge and having her time wasted because of it. Amélie turned to Sombra, eyeing the programmer who remained unmoved from her position at the desk. "I need you to come by later and make some adjustments to the POS system. You will need to make a new employee profile. A new hire will be starting up soon and they need to be added to the roster." Without another word, Amélie turned around and began heading out the side door, a scared Lucio following close behind; the two leaving almost as quickly as they had come.
Sombra gave a small wave goodbye to the other woman's back as she parted out the door, the action unnoticed. "Hasta luego" She called out as she pressed the button on her computer screen, closing the door behind them with a soft "Boop."
Pharah had spent her afternoon running every which way with, fixing up and cleaning almost every aspect of the apartment. To hear footsteps storm up and down the halls for a good half hour, occasional stomps mixed in with the loud whirring of a vacuum cleaner made many different questions rise within the waitress. She decided to give her roommate some time and allow the activity to slow down before eventually opening the door to her room and peaking out.
Lena made her way over to kitchen to see the other woman bent over, eyes cast downwards as she worked. "Everything alright, love?" She asked, leaning on the raised up counter on the other side of the partition.
"My mom will be here in ten minutes and I forgot to clean the kitchen." She said, her eyes cast downwards as she began scrubbing a sticky spot on the counter with a wet sponge in hand. "She will never let me live this down if she sees it."
Lena made her way around the partition, eyed the acceptably cleaned kitchen, the small stack of dishes being the most notable aspect of it aside from the counters slightly messy from last night's dinner. "Want some help?"
Pharah stopped for a moment, almost in shock at her own stupidity. Living on her own had gotten her used to doing everything by herself, so to suddenly have an extra pair of hands was an advantage she was not used to yet. "Yes. Go clean and set the table. I'll handle the dishes and everything else."
The young Brit gave her roommate a small salute before making her way into the cramped space of the kitchen, squeezing herself against the side counter to remove the necessary items before heading over to the four person table situated near the back wall of the living room. Helping prepare for the dinner rush of evenings worked in her favor as each place was set perfectly in no time at all, each one meeting restaurant quality standards.
The kitchen was mostly done when a knock on the door broke the rushed silence, the heavy sound of firm knuckles on the wood tearing the roommates' concentration away from the task at hand.
"Coming!" Pharah yelled, giving her hands a quick dry in a fluffy white terry cloth towel before putting it back in its proper location before rushing over and pulling the front door open.
"For a moment there I thought you had forgotten me, Fareeha." The woman's voice held a similar tone to Pharah's, only her accent deepened at specific points of each inflection, its overall tone holding less of a serious authority than what her daughter has adopted.
"Mother, you know I look forward to your visits every Wednesday." She paused "Every wednesday" she said again slight emphasis to the every. With a soft, short sigh, she held the door wide open, allowing room for her. "Come in, mother."
The older woman had taken the opportunity, making her way inside before taking off her long, dark grey overcoat before handing it over to her daughter who had placed it on the back of a stool nearby. She began removing the medium blue head covering from around her, unwrapping the few layers from around her head and neck, releasing her long white hair pulled into a braid that fell to the bottom of her ribs. Her bangs hung over the right top of her face, effectively covering a large part of her milked-over eye. Hanging up the scarf alongside her jacket, she took a quick glance around the open space of the apartment. "Where is this Lena girl you talked about?"
Lena gave a small wave, stepping out from behind the cover of the hallway after having given the two enough room. "That would be me, love."
The mother looked down at the other woman in front of her, the younger of the two standing a good few inches shorter than her, the top of her head covered in spiky brown hair reaching the bridge of her nose. She held out a hand, the skin of palms and fingers worn slightly. "It's a pleasure to meet. I'm Fareeha's mother. You can just call me Ana."
Happily, the waitress took the hand in front of her, giving it a firm, polite shake. "It's a pleasure to meet you as well. I'm Lena Oxton."
She let go of the other's hand, letting her fingers slip by as she retracted from the shake. "Lena Oxton.." Ana repeated the name given to her only a second ago, allowing it to sit on her tongue as she rolled through her mind thoughtfully. "Why does that sound familiar?"
Pharah signed, cursing her mother's feigning memory when hung up on unimportant topics. t. "You probably remember her name from the Olympics. You watch them religiously every two years." She stated matter-of-factly, words laced with slight annoyance at the verbal detour.
Lena was taken aback by this, her eyes widened slightly as she looked over at her roommate. "How did you know?" She asked, her tone raised in shock.
"I heard you and your friend talking about it. Our rooms our right next to each other." she said her arms crossing in front of her, her tone slightly annoyed.
"Right.." tone deflating as the realization hit her, part of her wondering what else the roommate has heard in the little time she has lived with her.
Ana took a second to think it over, her mind taking a little time before her memories caught up with her in a noticeable fashion. "Now I remember you. You were a cute little runner. Always going around congratulation people. I wondered how you had so much energy. They called you something," she gave her fingers a snap, as if trying to conjure the memory forth, "what was it again?"
"Tracer." Lena answered back, perking up in stance as a small, forced smile grew on her face, a facade growing to hide any sadness from the negative connotation that now connected to some of the best years of her life.
Ana caught on, her motherly instincts kicking in once she saw through the fake bout of forced happiness the former olympian was exhibiting. "Who's hungry?" She asked, clasping her hands together in front of her.
"I am," The younger girl replied, her voice ringing in a sing-song way; ultimately welcoming the change in subject
The older woman gestured her to the kitchen, leading the girl into the small space. "Good, then you'll be my helper."
Lena's face quickly lit up at that, following close behind the other woman as she began to remove necessary supplies from the cabinets.
Ana looked over at her daughter from the other side of the partition, voice dropping in volume as she leaned slightly over the counter to get closer. "I like this one. Make sure you keep her."
Following the pattern of every evening, the wait staff at Talon was put to the test once again as they set up and prepared for the expecting dinner rush. Lena had been following Angela as she had during her nights of training, assisting the woman in prepping the tables, all the while making small talk as they worked. Amongst the light chatter and exchange from dishes to the table, the waitress found herself becoming distracted once the manager made her way into the main dining room, the presence almost making her halt in her actions. Beside the taller woman stood a shorter girl around Lena's height, long, thick dark brown hair reaching down to her midback, bangs cut straight across her brow line, resting right above her eyes and pushed over a bit to the side, outlining the smooth features of her face.
It only took a moment of scanning, Amélie's glaring eyes scanning over the preparing staff before landing on the waitress, their gazes locking. "Lena," she called out, voice strong in nature but lacking volume, the weight of it alone carrying across the floor, tearing the brunette from her position.
Without hesitation, the waitress made her way across the tile floor, hard soles of her shoes clicking with each step before she stood in front of her higher up, posture rigid and immaculate. "Yes, ma'am. What is it?" Though nothing had happened yet since then, the thought of what Amélie could do still ran through her head, the looming threat only being proposed a little over a week ago. She anxiously maintained eye contact, true fears hidden down and away from the woman's sights.
The manager placed a hand out and to the side, gesturing to the young woman standing next to her. "This is Hana," she began, glancing between the waitress and new hire to the left of her, Amélie's face lacking amusement, "she will be your shadow for the night."
Lena shot the new hire a welcoming smile before looking back over to the manager, giving her a small, understanding. "Right then, don't worry about it. I'll do my best."
"You better," she stated simply with little to no inflection, soon parting from the two women just as she had come.
The waitressed watched as Amélie walked away, long strides making their way across the tile floor, leaving the young woman stiff with anxiety of the simple comment; its intention left too open-ended for comfort. She remained almost frozen as her mind raced a hundred miles an hour, both wanting to know what she had meant in her ominous speech and wishing to push any recollection of it happening out of her working memory.
Hana took a step in front of Lena, eyeing the woman that she would be shadowing before placing a hand up, waving it in front of her in an attempt to get attention. "You alright in there?" She asked sweetly, her voice hinting of sass.
Lena took a deep breathe in before letting the air out in quick and quiet sigh as if to shake herself out of it. Although her tone proved to be a bit awkward, its inflection pushed aside any worry, providing an air of reassurance. "Yeah, here just stay close to me. I'll take care of you, love"
The new hire gave out an anxious laugh, attempting to play off any anxiety that arose upon the causal use of the pet name. "I hate to break it to you, but I have a boyfriend."
The waitress's eyebrows knitting towards the middle with slight confusion playing on her face. "Alright?" She said more in question than anything else.
"Just so you don't waste you time," Hana continued, placing a hand on her hip.
It took a moment for her to catch on, the woman soon realizing the point of miscommunication. "Don't worry, I call everyone love." She said, waving off the other girl's anxiety towards the situation.
"Mmm, Alright" she gave her shoulders a slight shrug before beginning her night of shadowing, following Lena around as she learned began to learn what being a waitress actually meant.
Amélie sat at her desk, the light sound of the tapping of keys filling the air, providing the only break to the normal still silence. The office door swung open and closed in only a moment, no former knock or noise alerting the presence of another person to soon enter and tear her from her work. "You called?" a heavily accented voice asked as soon as the door had clicked back closed.. The manager eyes shot up from her given workload, her gaze landing on the programmer in front of her.
"How many times have to told you not to come during business hours?" She asked, eyes narrowing as she glared across the room at the other woman who made herself at home as soon as she got there.
Sombra was quick to brush off the manager's words, ignoring them with ease."Don't worry, no one ever sees me. It's like I was never here."
The manager became quickly unamused with the unwelcomed presence of the other woman, the timing and place of it all wrong. "Tell me, did you switch the location on the order?"
"Me?" The other woman asked, gesturing to herself, a moderately surprised look playing on her face. "No"
Amélie eyed the other woman, giving her a quick look up and down, analysing whether or not she was being honest for once. "Really?" She asked, tone laced with disbelief.
"Yeah, what do you think I am, stupid?"
"No, just bored." she sighed, adjusting herself in her desk chair, resting an elegant hand against her chin to keep it propped up. "I need you to stay focused."
Sombra made her way across the short space between the door and the desk, reaching forward for a small vase that sat next to the computer monitor, picking it up as she inspected the small rosebud inside. "Is this about Gérard again?" she asked, eyes parting from the blooming red petals to rest on the gaze of the other woman.
Amélie's face hardened at the question, voice becoming sharp as she snapped back, emotions getting the better of her. "I told you not to mention him."
"Alright, but it is about that, si?" The vase was set back down, its delicate glass making contact with the wood again, her eyes never parting from the manager's.
The manager retracted from her previous outburst of emotion, her usual, cold facade taking over. "Yes." She stated slowly, the volume dropping.
"Don't worry, they won't get away this time. Cross my heart and…" she smiled, pausing before the childish saying was completed, never believing the true meaning in the first place, "you know the rest." To see the manager all worked up over the simple slip of a word was worth annoying her in the first place, the normally cold and collected woman snapping at just a mention. She couldn't help but inwardly smile. "I'll just go fix the POS," She began, heading back over to the door, pulling it back open, "see you later." And with that, she disappeared back into the hall, making her way to the room housing the three touchscreen computers without being seen by anyone.
It took only a matter of moments before Hana rounded the corner, making her way into the side room before she froze, catching sight of the out of place woman in front of her. Shock got the best of her, a scream bubbling up in her throat before the programmer reached a hand out, clasping it over the younger girl's mouth before a sound could be made. "Keep in down alright?" She began, looking over the girl's face to make sure they were on the same understanding. "I'm just fixing this, niñita." She then removed the hold, switching her focus off of the new hire and back onto the touchscreen of the computer, the black screen now coming to life.
"Do you even work here?" The new hire asked, taking a step back and giving the other woman a once-over, the unprofessional appearance of the other throwing her off.
"Si, think of me as tech support." Sombra began to jab at the slow touchscreen, opening up the management profile and beginning to mess with the given settings.
"What's even wrong with it anyway?" She asked, moving in closer to inspect what the other woman was doing.
"This old thing gets so buggy with so many people slamming their fingers into it" she said, pausing in her work as she glanced over to the nearby bar, shooting a glare at the bartender on duty, the large woman currently making a few drinks for the thirsty patrens in front of her. Sombra looked back to the shorter woman, giving the unfamiliar face a once-over "You're the new girl, right?" She asked, opening a different file in the management settings. "What's your name so I can put it in here."
"That would be Hana. H, A, N, A."
"Alright," she pressed into the screen of the computer, entering the name into the given line. "Do you have a last name or are you just Hana?"
"It's Song, but could you like, put a nickname instead?" her voice teeming with hopefulness.
"You know where you're working, right?" she asked, typing in Song without allowing any room for change regarding protocol.
"Yeah," she began, tone defeated and defeated, "but, you work here and you look like that."
"No one ever sees me." She commented, closing out of management before setting the POS back to its original settings. "Have a good night, Hana Song." With a wave goodbye, she had disappeared as quickly as she had come.
Author's (Kate) Note: So many characters introduced in this chapter. In all honesty, if anyone deserves a spin-off, in my opinion, it would be sassy Sombra. I hate Alec and he hates me.
Author's (Alec) Note: She's joking, one spin-off, that's it.