Unmarked Talon controlled freighter, Baltic Sea, secret operation base for continental Europe, around the same time.

The cold, heavy rain pouring down on her skin like a waterfall from the dark and cloudy skies went completely unnoticed by the woman in a skintight bodysuit, who walked over the deck of the freighter. The icy water matched her body temperature anyway so Widowmaker wouldn't have noticed it, even if she'd have concentrated on it. Harsh winds were pulling on her long, purple hair, yet the meanwhile drenched woman simply ignored it, there was no point in complaining about the weather anyway.

The cold-blooded assassin walked away from the transport-aircraft, which had picked her up in London, through the heavy, dark rain straight towards the entrance into the freighter. Despite the unusually heavy sea, Widowmaker never faltered, her long beautiful legs carried her safely forward.

Reaching up to her face, she wiped the salty water out of it, cold skin touching cold skin, her face felt numb, the touch of her hand almost painful. Widowmaker had to admit that today had been one of her oddest missions, which she had ever conducted. Normally, after a successful assignment, Widowmaker got the feeling of at least some life returning to her almost dead body. It was what she lived for, that one moment of feeling something. And it had been a very successful task, yet something was very much amiss.

Today was different.

Her target was eliminated.

Yet there was again that vast, never ending nothingness inside her heart and Widwomaker hated it. No, that wasn't true. It wasn't true at all, there had been something completely opposite to nothingness filling her cold heart today. But that couldn't be, it was totally impossible and disturbingly confusing. Widowmaker was never confused, she always had a clear mind and a unwavering sense of purpose. At least she had since she was made Widowmaker.

The assassin took her infrared visor off her head, before she pressed her hand to a scanner on the wall next to a door. The surface lit up, scanning her fingerprints, before a short beep signaled clearance and the door slithered open with a silent hiss. Widowmaker walked inside, greeted by a long dark corridor lit with red lights. The loud winds and heavy pattering of the rain suddenly was gone and nothing but a heavy silence greeted her, the only sound was the faint humming of the freighter's engines.

Widowmaker stared down the dark corridor, it bore some resemblance to how some people might have imagined the entrance to hell. A bottomless, dark hole leading straight to the underworld. The dim red lights didn't do a lot to lift the creepy atmosphere.

Talon's best hitman had been here a thousand times before, she didn't even waste a second thought about the admittedly poor design choices. Her legs carried her automatically down the aisle, switching corridors absent-minded while she made her way to her destination. She didn't even have to think where she was going anymore, her body was running on autopilot.

Which was a good thing, because it left her time to think about different things. While it was true that the moment of the kill today didn't give her any kind of satisfaction, that didn't mean nothing during the events of this day brought that feeling to the cold assassin.

There had been this girl again. That... annoyance.

Tracer. The bubbly Brit made a habit of interrupting her work and it usually unnerved Widowmaker to no end. But at some point during their fights, something unfamiliar inside of the blue woman changed, something strange and foreign, which she seemed to have forgotten. It involuntarily made her slow down more and more, until the assassin usually reached a point where she had to either face her inner turmoil or retreat. And Widowmaker, being mostly scared of what she'd find inside herself, should she dwell on that kind of foreign feeling she had around Tracer for a lot longer, always chose the second option. She had no idea why, but she always said goodbye to Tracer, as if to remind herself that they'd see each other again.

Back at Talon headquarters her mind was -according to schedule- wiped clean again and the next encounter with Tracer developed just like the previous one. They fought, Widowmaker remembered something she didn't recognize, they slowed down, the assassin had to leave, she said her goodbye before her mind was wiped again.

Today was different, though. Today they had some kind of interaction for the first time. For the first time Tracer said something to her, something more than a teasing remark to catch her attention, something more meaningful, addressed directly at her, while those warm, hazelnut brown eyes peered right into Widowmaker's damaged soul. That question. That one question, asked with heavy emotions and almost trembling voice.

'Why?!... Why would you do this?'

And all Widowmaker did was laugh, at the time her answer seemed too clear, her motives so natural. But the more she was thinking about it, the more her carefully crafted web of explanations dissolved itself.

Tracer had sounded so... sad. Like she was in a complete turmoil. The question was still ringing in the back of Widowmaker's head, and usually the answer was an easy one. I do it to feel something. Yet today things were different; somehow they had changed. What made the brainwashed assassin feel something today wasn't the kill.

As much as Widowmaker was reluctant to admit it, but the source of emotions today was no other than Tracer herself. She could recall the moment in which that fit, slim body in skin-tight orange pants and bomber jacket slammed into her, before it pressed against hers, holding her down on that rooftop in London, the warmth she radiated off seeping through Widowmaker's bodysuit into her cold skin, filling her modified body with new life, like it had just happened.

Tracer's hot breath against her cold skin, giving Widowmaker something she hadn't had in a long time, something she didn't even realized she missed. Human contact. Doing as much as thinking back to Tracer and how she had touched her felt like the Brit was still there, right in front of her, touching her all over again. It wasn't even meant that way, Tracer's intention surely wasn't to do Tekhartha Mondatta's killer a favor, but Widowmaker couldn't help and enjoy the feeling, or better the memory of the Overwatch agent's touch. She would have liked to stay a moment longer underneath the bubbly Brit, but unfortunately it was impossible.

The memory felt nice, though. It was something good. Worth holding on to and thinking back to it, there might have been a faint tug on the corner of her lips, bringing something like a smile to her otherwise stern face. Yet at the same time the memory made her feel joy, it also confused Widowmaker like nothing had before. This wasn't her. She didn't feel, she couldn't do it even if she wanted to and quite frankly she didn't want to either anymore.

Feeling inevitably meant pain for her. It always did. She shadowy recalled once loving someone, but it only brought her pain. She remembered fighting Talon and what they did to her for all her life, because she resented their plans and what they wanted to do, but it only brought her pain.

Widowmaker gave up resisting long ago, she had learned her lesson. Not feeling was her best friend. Her protector and the reason her heart still beat, however slowly. It saved her from all sorts of troubles.

And so she came to some twisted sort of peace with this unusual day, knowing her memories and these strange feelings she started having when thinking of that bubbly, yet annoying girl named Tracer, which undeniably would only hurt her again, would be gone again soon. Wiped away in the process of electrochemical cleansing.

A part of her wanted nothing more than to hold on to those precious memories, those tiny fragments of something which felt right, but the majority of her was afraid of getting hurt again, afraid of getting her mind torn down completely another time, only to completely forget who she was one more time. Widowmaker had finally found some kind of self again, whatever it was, and she didn't want to give it up for some strange hunch of something she didn't even fully understand. Tracer was her enemy, one day she'd have to kill her. And on that day, she couldn't allow herself any positive feelings towards the girl. No matter how the Brit made her feel. No, what was to come now was for her own best.

It was better simply accepting what was about to happen anyway, because one thing Widowmaker didn't have in a long time. And that was a choice. Thinking what would be done to you was exactly what you wanted made things easier, it at least felt like a choice.

This was the worst day in forever She thought, stopping in front of a black metal door deep inside the freighter. Her legs had carried her to the destination she was headed to, but now that she was here, something inside her made Widowmaker hesitate. Maybe this isn't what I really want? What if I want to remember? I want to hold on to those memories, I want to see her again and talk to her, I want to remember! Widowmaker sighed, rubbing over the bridge of her nose, giving herself a push. It was futile, she didn't have a choice, no reason making this more difficult than it already was. Soon enough she would have forgotten her inner turmoil.

Widowmaker pushed the dooropener, waited for the metal plate to slide out of her way, before she stepped inside. Three scientists in dark grey coats where standing in some kind of laboratory. Unlike the rest of the base, this room was clinically white, with polished surfaces and lots of glass everywhere. The stench of disinfectant was lingering heavily in the air, almost stinging in the nose with each breath. The brightly lit laboratory screamed hospital like nothing else. A transparent glass cylinder in the size of your average shower was in the middle of the lab, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. Some steps led up to it and lots of differently sized and formed tubes and cables, all in different shades of white, came out of it, some vanishing in the ceiling, some making their way to different instruments and control-units. A fine fog was bubbling out of the top of the machine, gently falling down on the glass-sides, before vanishing halfway through.

Right next to the creepy tube was a polished metal bed, with four metal manacles to bind a patient, or maybe better a victim, to it so movement would be restricted to the bare minimum. Surgical instruments were neatly prepared on a moveable side table and right above the operation table, fixed to the ceiling, was a six-armed artificial surgeon-AI, which was currently in hibernation, its six skinny metal arms retracted. Widowmaker had seen that thing in action once before, when her body was 'enhanced' by Talon. She didn't want to think back to that day, the procedure done while she was still fully conscious, so the assassin quickly pushed those thoughts aside.

"Ah, Widowmaker" one of the scientists said, noticing the guest in their lab. "We have expected you" he added, gesturing her to come closer.

The assassin merely nodded, handing her gear to the one scientist right next to her. She handed him her Talon-rifle and her mine-shooting glove, before placing her infrared-visor on top of everything.

"You know the drill by now, don't you?" the first scientist asked and indeed did sound rather creepy. Widowmaker didn't even realize his disgustingly perverted undertone, she just didn't care.

"oui" she replied flatly, undoing her shoes before stripping out of her bodysuit without any hesitation or shame, not even trying to cover her naked body. She wasn't wearing anything underneath that skintight suit. With quick and skilled hands she folded the cevlar-latex hybrid material neatly at put it aside on to a little shelf right next to the glass cylinder. Widowmaker didn't pay the lusty stares the scientist gave her now stark naked body any attention. To herself, the body she now possessed was nothing but a weapon, made to fulfill a purpose, not to look beautiful. To herself she wasn't beautiul.

But to everyone else she was so gorgeous, so different. Her cold blue skin with that dark black tattoo of a spider on her back. Her legs were long and slender, yet muscular. Her body had a form any other woman would have killed for, no doubt. Her usual bodysuit left little to the imagination, yet the three scientists were well aware how lucky they were, getting to see the deadly assassin's breathtakingly perfect body completely naked. Yet no one dared to say something. They all knew the story of that one unlucky guy, who had complimented her flawless body during the check-in once. Widowmaker stared at him for a moment, and without saying a word, she broke his neck, killing the man instantly. No one ever dared to say anything to her ever since.

But that didn't meant no one looked. They all stared at the movement of her firm and perfectly shaped bottom, while Widowmaker walked up the stars to the glass cylinder, before the chamber opened. For a tiny fraction of a second, she seemed to hesitate, as if that part of her, which wanted to hold on to certain memories seemed to grow more powerful, but then she walked into the glass tube.

The door closed behind her and the machine was switched on. A ring of dark red light appeared sweeping over her body a couple of times, while the scientists were busy working on different consoles. After a minute or two the door opened again and Widowmaker stepped back out, walking back to the little shelf, where she had left her clothes, getting dressed again without any haste.

"The results of the scan are as expected. Your implants are still working at maximal efficiency. We won't need to adjust them today. Also, your metabolism seems to have completely adjusted to the improvements we made, meaning your body-temperature will be a constant 19° Celsius and your heart rate is reduced to about 10 bpm, making you constantly invisible to any kind of sensors or alarm systems." one of the scientists told her proudly. To him, Widowmaker was a walking medical miracle. Enhancements to this extent to the human body were at least ten years ahead of its time. There were only a selected few people who had the knowledge and the resources to do something like that and the scientist was very proud to be part of one of the organizations who did.

"Tell me something I don't know already." Widowmaker rolled her eyes. Each time new personal was working these labs and each time they told her the same story, like it was something awesome. Why did they assume she didn't know what she was built for? It was her own fucking body this had been done to, how the hell could she not know?

"Yes, of course. As I said, your metabolism has adjusted, meaning you can stop taking the medication we provided you with" he explained. "If you keep a close eye on your nourishment-schedule, you should be self-sufficient by now"

"Enfin! It was such an annoyance" she replied.

"I can imagine" the scientist said, sounding as if he smiled behind that face mask, before he was momentarily distracted by the door opening and closing again. Someone came in, which made the doctor hesitate, yet Widowmaker didn't bother turning around. After a moment he continued. "So much for your physical condition. Moving on to your psychological maintenance. Doctor?" he gestured towards a different scientist, who cleared his throat walking up to Widowmaker.

"Yes, thank you," he adjusted a pair of huge glasses with one skinny gloved finger "It seems your mental inhibitors are due to be reapplied, at least according to schedule. We should reapply them now" he stated flatly, like he was talking about reinstalling a computer.

Inwardly Widowmaker sighed. This was it. In a few hours she'd have forgotten today. It would have been gone alongside that nagging feeling of something the cold-blooded assassin didn't understand anymore. Yet she couldn't help but wonder, what might happen, if her mind wouldn't be wiped now. If she'd figure out what Tracer did to her to make her feel alive. Usually only killing made her feel that way, Talon made sure of that. She suppressed the nagging voice insider her head, telling her to avoid the mental overhaul at all costs, pleading to wait and see what would happen.

"That will not be necessary, Doctor" an unnaturally deep voice behind Widowmaker said. Now she did turn around, looking surprised at the black and white mask of Reaper. "The procedure had already been done while she was on transit from London." he said, lying boldly directly at the face of the scientist. "You need to update your database."

The scientist gulped. "But, Sir!"

"No buts, Doctor. You and I both know what happens when you wipe a mind two times in a row. She is too valuable an asset to lose because of the mistake of an amateur." Reaper growled, casually putting his hand on the handle of one of his shotguns. "And you know how Talon deals with amateurs."

Beads of sweat were forming on the doctor's forehead, which he quickly pat dry with a white napkin "Yes, Sir. I understand."

"Good." Reaper replied with a lowly growl, removing the hand from his shotgun. "See to it that the database gets updated. It was a full program with the second gen mobile unit, so another two to three months should be fine" he ordered, before turning to the golden eyed assassin. "You come with me, Widowmaker. We have new orders."

Widowmaker merely nodded, wondering what the hell this was all about, but following Reaper out of the lab and into the corridor. Her eyes instantly adjusted to the darkness. For quite some time, she just walked right behind him, before curiosity got the better of her.

"Why did you do it?" she wanted to know flatly, not even dwelling on the fact that Reaper had lied for reasons she didn't understand.

"Did What?" Reaper asked back, his deeply rasping voice echoing from the walls.

"I wasn't overhauled en route back to HQ. So why did you tell them I was?"

Reaper chuckled, a deep and truly intimidating chuckle. "Why not? Do you want to be wiped again?" he asked mockingly.

The more Widowmaker thought about it, the more her emotional side was winning. No, she didn't want to be cleaned again. She wanted to find out more about that side of her, it felt like the right path to take. Yet she didn't want to tell Reaper. "Because it's against protocol? Talon does that for a reason"

Reaper stopped and turned around to face the blue assassin. "But I am not Talon, I have my own reasons. You want to be turned a blank paper again? I won't stop you. I offered you one more cycle of being yourself, do you want that?"

Widowmaker hesitated for a moment "oui" she replied.

"Perfect" Reaper replied with a deep growl. "Because I sure as hell didn't do it for you, bitch. I did it for me and for my plans. It just so happens that I need you for them and I also need you rememberering more than two month at a time," he chuckled deeply "and now you owe me."

"What do I owe you exactly, la Faucheuse?" Widowmaker inquired, ignoring his insults, as she felt suspicion creeping up insider her mind. What kind of game was Reaper playing here exactly and what role did he have in store for her in all of this? Whatever this was supposed to be anyway. Because one thing was certain, she definitely had a role, or otherwise he'd never have lied for the sake of her not being mind-wiped again. Reaper had made that rather clear.

"I will let you know when the time comes, little lady."

"Does Talon know what you are up to?" Widowmaker asked, she couldn't help but get the feeling that someone would have her head for doing Reaper the favor he demanded.

"Do I look like fucking Talon to you, bitch? I said it before, I say it again. I am not them. My goals momentarily align with theirs, which is why I work with them. But that's it. I work with them. Not for them. Got that?"

"Je vois" Widowmaker nodded.

Reaper pressed one of his armored fingers right onto her chest, way too hard to seem friendly. "And if you even think about telling anyone from our little agreement today, I will have you mind not only wiped, but broken again, understand? You won't even remember your precious French anymore, compris?"he said, that last word spoken with more disgust than you'd expect from a voice as deep as his.

The assassin gulped, the idea alone making her insides convulse. Being french was the only thing Widowmaker had left from the life she led, when she still wasn't under Talon's control, the only tiny fragment of herself, which she got to keep. The thought of losing it as well felt very much like she expected dying would feel as well. But Widowmaker didn't let her inner turmoil show, her face was as stern and emotionless as usual, while she pushed Reaper's disturbing finger off her with a casual wave of her hand and an annoyed roll of her beautiful golden eyes "Oui, Oui, la Faucheuse. I'm not stupid, no need to threaten me. One hand washed the other, right? When you need me, just say the word."she shrugged.

Reaper grunted, as he turned around and lead the way again. Widowmaker followed a moment later. This was getting really strange really fast. Reaper never cared for anything, so what was he up to now? All Widowmaker thought he was interested in was death and destruction, but apparently that was not everything. There seemed to be something bigger behind things and apparently it was worth the risk of involving someone else as well. What did he hide? She was undeniably curious.

-/-

A/N:

Want to enable me my addiction to coffee?

go to Tipee com and search for E82. Or you use the link on my profile

-/-

You guys wanted an update, you shall have one :D

also for those, who are unfamiliar with french (which I am as well, don't worry, I have a kind friend who helps me out) some translations:

la Faucheuse: the Grim Reaper

Enfin: Finally!

compris?: savvy?

Je vois: I understand

Did I forget something? Don't think so...

Anyway, I hope to have entertained you all once more, please do tell me what you think about this chapter! I love reviews :D

until next time

o7