Watchpoint Gibraltar: Overwatch headquarters, approximately 0123 hours
Winston was breathing heavily, staring at the blank screen of one of the many different terminals in his laboratory. It only showed a blinking white prompt and nothing else. The huge monkey grunted, taking a quick peek at his hand, which was pressed to his shoulder. Dark red glister was spread over his skin.
He was bleeding.
The raid on Watchpoint Gibraltar came out of fucking nowhere. Suddenly there were Talon-Soldiers all over the place, running down the corridors, blowing doors open with explosive charges and charging into every remotely important location. Winston didn't have the first idea how Talon managed to breach the primary security ring without Athena noticing, but they managed to get right into the base before the alarm went off.
He made a mistake; the one mistake you should never make: Underestimating your enemy.
Winston paid the price for his stupidity.
He was standing in what little was left of his completely destroyed laboratory. Of all the locations in the Watchpoint, his lab apparently was the primary target. Or better the artificial intelligence living inside his lab was the target. And now the place which had become his home bore close resemblance to a warzone. Tables were flipped over and tossed around the room, shards of glass spread over the blood-smeared floor with enough empty shell casings to pose a slip hazard. The corpses of three different Talon-Soldiers were lying unpleasantly around, one of them violently ripped into two halves, when Winston tried to defend the Watchpoint and Athena.
But no matter how much he tried, in the end, Talon got what they came for. The soldiers weren't the biggest problem; Winston might have managed to hold them at bay. But Talon didn't only send their Soldiers. There also was an old acquaintance: The supernatural warrior clad in black robes. Reaper managed to download Athena and all her data.
Winston's best efforts weren't enough. They came and took her.
She was an AI, true, but Winston had made her, pouring all his passion and heart into her creation. The bodiless assistant was something like his daughter. He was there from the first line of code to the last. He taught her how to think, how to talk and how to behave. He taught her everything he knew. Winston had even shown her how to be polite and how to converse with organics. Athena was the closest thing to a daughter as Winston would ever get.
And now she was gone.
The pain in his bleeding shoulder was nothing compared to the one arching in his chest.
"C'mon, Athena!" he pleaded the console, desperately waiting for some sign of life from his AI-friend. But the blinking prompt was all he saw.
An idle console, nothing more.
The silent cough of someone in the obliterated room caught Winston's attention after a little while. It was actually rather unlikely that he'd hear the noise over the sound of his heavy breathing, but the monkey's alert ears still caught on to the sound.
He turned around to see the source of the coughing. Stepping over the solder he ripped in two halves mere minutes before, careful to not step into the huge puddle of dark red blood leaking out of the dead body, Winston approached one soldier, who was apparently still more or less alive.
Probably less than more.
He lost an arm and was trying to crawl away, leaving a smeared line of blood on the otherwise clean white tile floor. Winston had no problem catching up with the soldier and grabbing him at his neck with his good hand, rising the black-clad guy in the air. Winston ungently tore the mask off the soldier's face and tossed it away. For a short moment Winston was confused. The soldier hiding under the scary looking dark grey mask was no man, but very much a woman. The monkey scientist had to remind himself that not only men fought in wars and that not only they died in them. There were more than enough women serving in the military. Still, it felt a little weird, and something in Winston was uncomfortable with the situation.
He had been taught to respect women. But who he held in his hand right now was a soldier.
Eerie red eyes in a pale face with blue veins spread over it stared at Winston more hateful than anything he ever saw. He didn't even get the chance to say a word before the soldier spit in Winston's face, wearing an expression of utmost disgust.
Maybe he didn't have a problem squeezing information out of her after all.
"What were you here for? How did you get in? What were your orders? Where did you take Athena?" he roared so loud, the ground started to vibrate.
The female soldier he had tightly grabbed in his hand laughed viciously, her amber-red eyes lighting up for a moment, a nasty smile spread over her lips, revealing sharp teeth with unnatural long fangs.
"Pierdol się, brzydka małpo!" she hissed despisingly, flicking her tongue over one of her canines. Winston didn't realize what was going on until it was already too late. He didn't see that her tooth was gone until the soldier had already bitten down on it.
It didn't even take a second before her whole body started having extreme convulsions, her red eyes rolling into unnatural positions and thick white foam fuming out of her mouth. A moment later the body of the woman slacked completely, like a dead bag of meat.
"Cyanide" Winston sighed, letting go of the now dead woman, who ungracefully fell to the floor with a loud crash. He looked around in his lab and didn't know what to do. It was completely destroyed. So much broken stuff like expensive instruments and sophisticated prototypes. The splashes of blood, which were covering the walls and the floor, and all those dead and deformed bodies. There were more corpses in his lab than alive people in the entire Watchpoint at this moment.
Morrison's timing with holiday for everyone could not have been worse. Talon somehow must have gotten wind of the vacation and planned their attack accordingly. It only made sense.
When Winston almost gave up, he turned around one more time to catch one last glimpse at what used to be Athena. He would miss her dearly. Not the assistant, but the friend she was.
But the prompt was gone.
Long lines of code were running down the terminal, so fast it appeared to be one big blur.
And by the time Winston had blinked his surprise away and made his way across the lab and towards the terminal, the lines of codes were gone, replaced by the AI's logo.
"A-Athena?" Winston asked carefully.
A fraction of a second passed, and the scientist-monkey almost thought he got his hopes up for nothing, but then: "I am here, Winston" her calm synthetic voice said, and the gorilla let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding.
"Thank god you are alive!" He sighed with relief.
"I am." The bodiless voice of Athena replied. "But I have bad news"
"Might as well tell me now" Winston decided reluctantly. It wasn't like this day could be any worse, but then again...
"A copy of my database has been stolen. Reaper retrieved the locations and identities of all active and former Overwatch operatives."
Winston's eyes widened "E-Everyone?" He asked.
"I am afraid so" Athena replied, her synthetic voice carrying as much compassion as it could.
Ever since Overwatch has been officially shut down, most of the former operatives spread around the world. Some hired themselves out as mercenaries, some wandered the world, trying to help people in need and some started their own research projects. From time to time they came back to Gibraltar, whenever they searched for something to do, for their annual reunions, for one or another secret mission together or simply to meet up with each other.
Mercy and Tracer were the two most prominent exceptions.
The former was just too worried about everyone to leave the Watchpoint. She knew that most of her former brothers and sisters in arms would need a doctor who didn't ask a lot of questions sooner or later. So she stayed, leaving her door open to everyone wounded in battle. That, and of course for the completely legal science teams currently stationed at the Watchpoint. Injuries were rather common among them as well.
And while Mercy was staying out of her unwavering sense of duty, Tracer stayed because she had nowhere else to go. Her chronal accelerator needed a lot of maintenance, so she was basically tied to where Winston was. When she didn't take a few days off at her apartment in London, she usually spent her days at the Watchpoint. Winston didn't mind. He had someone around who he could send out to do minor peacekeeping missions and Lena had something to do. Everyone wins.
But apart from those two exceptions, everyone else scattered around the world.
And now their exact locations were known to Talon. Which could only mean one thing.
"Athena! Call everyone back! Tell them they are in danger. They have to avoid traceable means of transportation at all cost. They are most likely all being targeted. Tell them we had a data-leak and tell them to get a move on fast! We will bring the band back together."
"Do you want to initiate the recall-initiative?" Athena asked, causing Winston to pause for a moment. He had been toying with this thought for quite some time.
Recall would bring everyone back on active duty, basically reactivating Overwatch. Doing that was officially an act of terrorism. They wouldn't be any different from Talon, at least in the eyes of the government. But did it really matter? Winston saw it in the news every day. Riots, terror, violence, the omnics on the rise once again. Armed conflicts and utter devastation wherever the sore eye looked.
Shit was bound to hit the fan hard, and it would do so very soon. One way or another, the world was turning into an explosive mix of hate and fear, and it was only a matter of time until everyone would go at each other's throats again. Omnics and humans, humans and humans. It didn't matter.
The world was on the brink to full scale war one more time in its history of bloody conflicts. Winston could feel it in his bones.
It lingered in the air, that primal feeling of an impending hunt. And when the world would finally explode in a violent eruption of hate and mutual contempt, Overwatch would be ready to stand up for all those caught in the crossfire. Protecting the innocent and punishing the wicked. It was what they had been founded for, their holy duty and the sacred vow any member took upon entering their band of brothers.
But their family was ripped apart by the government, by bigoted bureaucrats with only their political career in mind.
True, there had been some issues with the moral credibility of one or another mission. The public started accusing Overwatch of taking part in criminal activities, and more and more controversial operations stoked public outrage, but Winston always thought it was nothing which would not have been fixed.
That was until the United Nations launched a top secret investigation against Overwatch. It was before the existence of the top secret Blackwatch was made public knowledge and before Gabriel Reyes, the commander of Blackwatch, launched a violent and bloody attack on his former brother in arms, Jack Morrison, claiming the lives of hundreds of good men along those of Morrison and Reyes.
Morrison was only perceived dead, whilst Reyes actually bit the dust, at least to Winston's knowledge. Overwatch lay in ruins, and with the Petras act quickly signed, it was also made illegal. The former heroes and saviors of the world were deemed terrorists with the stroke of a pen.
Winston still felt the betrayal creeping up inside him whenever he thought back to that day.
All they wanted to do was help, but all they got was being made the scapegoat for the mistakes of a few individuals.
"Winston?" Athena's bodiless voice asked. "You are lost in thought"
"I am sorry, Athena" Winston replied, clearing his throat. "Yes. Please activate the recall-initiative" Winston said, turning away from the console. "It's enough. The world is on the brink of chaos once again. Today was just the last drop. I will not idly sit by and watch while the world is set to the torch."
"Do you want me to contact the persons added to the list of possible candidates as well?" Athena's calm voice asked.
"Has their personal information been stolen?" Winston wanted to know. He had been collecting the personal files of people he would have liked to join Overwatch, should the organization ever be revived or for the event that he activated the recall-initiative. The numbers of those serving in the original Overwatch were dwindling, after all. They needed new soldiers, if Overwatch wanted to change anything.
"Unfortunately so" Athena replied instantly.
"Then please inform them as well. Thank you, Athena"
"Anytime, Winston."
-/-
Unmarked Talon controlled freighter, Mediterranean sea, the next day, 0856 hours
Widowmaker floated in a whirlwind of dark grey clouds, a violent wind pulling on her skin and hair, while she had the feeling of falling downwards into a bottomless pit. Pictures and voices seemed to be hiding in the clouds, but all Amélie could do was catch a glimpse of them while she was rapidly falling past. There was the calming voice of a beautiful woman calling out her name, her real name, not just her call sign. Widowmaker remembered the name of the woman calling out for her. A moment later, she fell past an image of them kissing, but the girl suddenly was a stranger to Widow. She couldn't recall ever meeting her as the memory of their affectionate kiss whirled up in the clouds and Widowmaker fell past it. Her bones ached and her head was tortured by a throbbing pain in her temples, while she was falling faster and deeper into the endless hole. Whole events were forgotten as soon as she fell past them. It didn't take long before Widowmaker had forgotten that Tracer ever existed. She forgot about the reason she wanted her memory to be reset and she also forgot about the burning desire she felt for the Brit.
It was like they had never met in the first place.
Once the pit got so dark Amélie couldn't see anything around her anymore, she knew her journey came to an end. The feeling of smacking hard against the ground woke her up rather violently.
Widowmaker opened her eyes gain, sucking in a deep breath of air. It felt like waking up from one of those horrible nightmares where she was falling into nothing only to wake up in the exact same moment of her impact on the ground, bathed in sweat and breathing heavily.
But it was no nightmare this time. It was a routine procedure for Widowmaker. The pain in her head was still there, and her body felt weird, but her soul was balanced. For a swift moment she felt like remembering something in the furthest corner of her mind, but that flash of orange was gone as fast as it appeared, a faint giggle being carried away with the wind.
The strange thing was that Widow felt relieved of something which had been bothering her. She didn't remember what it was, but she knew it was gone now. Breathing was easier and she felt strangely whole. She was empty inside, but not broken anymore. Widowmaker didn't know why she got the feeling of not being broken anymore because she didn't remember being broken in the first place. But far be it for her to think about those things any further.
She looked at the doctor to her right, who was retrieving a needle from her left arm, while another undid the leather manacles holding her head and naked body tightly in place. As horrible as it may have been, Widowmaker was so used to this by now she didn't even waste a second thought about the procedure anymore.
"Thank you, doctor" Widowmaker said coolly, gracefully swinging off the medical examination chair, giving the doctor a cold glare. The feeling of being a blank paper once again was strange; especially since Widowmaker couldn't get rid of that nagging feeling that her blank paper had more than one black spot on it. Something didn't feel the way it should have felt.
It would fade away soon, she was sure of it.
Turning to go and get dressed again, Widowmaker's eyes fell upon her naked body, reflected in a wall-sized mirror inside the laboratory. She paused a moment to look at herself, and noticed an unfamiliar pale blue scar just above her hip. She let a finger run over the scarred tissue, but the little line was there without any doubt. She couldn't really remember how she got it. But when her fingers touched the spot on her abdomen, Widow suddenly got a warm feeling, like someone had carried her to safety. Strange...
"Where did you get that scar from, Widowmaker?" the doctor asked, appearing next to her. To his credit, he didn't stare at her stark naked form. His voice, with its heavy Russian accent, tore Widowmaker out of her musing.
"You should have asked me that before the wipe, crétin. How would I know?" she hissed, quickly slipping inside her bodysuit. Without another word, Widowmaker grabbed her rifle and was gone a second later, vanished in the dark corridors of the Talon freighter.
She didn't get far.
"Unscheduled reset?" A deep growling voice stated more than it asked.
Widowmaker sighed, turning to her right only to see Reaper casually leaning toward the metal wall, his arms crossed over his chest. Obviously reading his facial expression was impossible due to his skull-mask, but his voice did sound a tiny bit annoyed. "What do you care, la Faucheuse?" she asked.
"You owe me a favor. And now you forgot about it" he replied.
"Oh is that right?" Widowmaker shrugged. She really couldn't care less. "And why would I believe that?" she asked, her voice feigning a flirty tone.
Reaper chuckled a deep and pervasive laugh "Why do you think you needed to be wiped out of schedule?" he asked before he pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer to Widow. "I prevented the last wipe, little spider. And that's why you owe me."
"Don't feed me that bullshit, la Faucheuse. Search another fool for your games. What do you want?" Widowmaker asked, ignoring the feeling that something was not right. There was that flash of orange again, which almost warmed her heart for a moment.
"Repellent today, aren't we? Still high on the chemicals, Widow?" Reaper scoffed leaning forward far too much and invading Widow's personal space. She raised an eyebrow, tilting her head out of the way so she wouldn't touch his mask with her cheek. Widowmaker could have stepped away, but she didn't want to give in. Why was Reaper telling her all this?
"I would greatly appreciate you not wasting my time further and telling me what you want. Can you do that?" she asked with a slightly cocky grin.
Reaper growled and it almost sounded like he was frustrated. Widowmaker didn't know it, but he, in fact, was very frustrated. With her mind wiped again he would have to start planning from the beginning. He needed that favor, otherwise his whole master plan would not work. "So, you won't pay me back. I see" he growled. "Helping you was a mistake it seems" he added, pressing a finger to her chest.
A picture shot into Widowmaker's head out of nowhere. It showed her, also on the very same freighter in a corridor with Reaper. He had been pressing one of his armored fingers to her chest, just like he did now, telling her he would have her personality destroyed if she dared to backstab him. The image was gone in a flash, but it did leave a strange taste in Widow's mouth.
"Oui, oui, la Faucheuse. I don't care. Did you just come here to whine about that stupid favor? Because I have better things to do" she stated, visibly unimpressed, wiping Reaper's finger off her with the back of her hand.
Growling, the black clad man seemed to give up on the topic. There was really no point in pushing this further. His only option was to wait and see if he could somehow manage to get Widow into a situation where she'd owe him again.
But for now, there was really only one thing left to do. And that was the reason why he was sent here in the first place.
"Here" Reaper replied. A dossier appeared out of a cloud of black smoke and dropped into his hand before he passed it to Widowmaker.
She flipped the cover open and looked into the file inside. "My next target?" she asked.
"Yes" Reaper nodded.
Widowmaker raised an eyebrow once again "Also the favor you have been so keen on, la Faucheuse?" she wanted to know, with a smug grin on her lips. It was strange; she didn't remember Reaper being so keen on her owing him a favor. But then again, Widowmaker had just freshly come out of the memory-reconditioning machine, so all she remembered was what Talon wanted her to remember. Her training and acquired skills were the most important thing for obvious reasons, but there were also the basics of the important Talon personal. It didn't make a lot of sense to have her forget the people she was working with after all.
So maybe she just didn't remember this side of Reaper.
Maybe she really owed him? Widowmaker didn't care.
"Hardly, little spider" Reaper replied with an eerie laugh "Official orders" he added, before vanishing in a dark black pillar of smoke.
Widowmaker turned her attention back into the file, looking at the picture of a fat man, apparently taken at some kind of press event. Devaraja Ramachandran was his name, an Indian type of person and the current major of Numbani. In two weeks he would publically speak at the opening ceremony for the local museum, so the point where Widowmaker would strike was already scouted out for her. Good.
She closed the file again, heading toward the helipad.
And yet once more, there was that flash of orange, blinking past her down the corridor. Or at least Widowmaker imagined it. Again, she thought she heard someone giggle cutely, but when she turned around, obviously no one was there. What the hell was going on? The voice did feel familiar, and Widowmaker felt like she should remember who it belonged to.
But she didn't. And then the feeling of someone being at her side was gone as Widowmaker was off to do what she did best.
Killing people.
Her legs carried her through the complex maze of different paths and hallways inside the Talon ship, not thinking once Widowmaker found her way outside on deck of the freighter.
The weather was beautiful, the sun rising above the blue sea on a sky without a single cloud. A soft breeze was playing gently with Amélie's hair while she walked toward the black, squat shuttle with long wings, spreading into two shark-fins on the end of each wing.
Two black-clad men were walking around the shuttle, apparently preparing the aircraft for launch.
They most likely heard the clicking of Widowmaker's heels on the metal floor as they turned around.
"Ma'am!" they both snapped to attention "We will be your pilots for today. My name is-"
Widowmaker rose a hand to stop the pilot from talking further "Ta gueule! I don't care. Just get me to the destination. And if you want to come back home alive, I suggest you don't talk to me" she said, not even bothering to look at the pilots while she walked past them and into the steel belly of the shuttle.
The pilots exchanged a look. "Damn" the one said.
"Yeah, she is the real deal, mate. I am telling you, don't mess with her. Did you know she broke a guy's neck, because he called her pretty?"
"Seriously?!" the first pilot looked surprised. He was a rather new member of Talon, a former U.S. navy fighter pilot who got cashiered for insubordination. And now he was a shuttle-pilot in the service of Talon, playing taxi for the deadliest assassin in the world. Not what he expected his life would turn out to be.
"Yeah... Just leave her alone. Better for your health"
"Noted"
"What are you two chit-chatting about?" A dangerously deep voice asked from behind the two pilots, sending a cold shiver down their spines while their bodies almost froze solid. Slowly they turned around to see Reaper standing directly behind them, holding a simple black metal suitcase.
"Sorry, Sir! We-"
"Spare me the excuses" Reaper interrupted "Is the spider on board?"
"She is, Sir!" one of the two almost identical looking Pilots replied, causing Reaper to nod. He handed the other one the heavy black suitcase.
"After you dropped the assassin, you will deliver this suitcase to these coordinates" he said, handing the first pilot an envelope. "Do not open these orders until after you dropped off Widowmaker"
"Sir, yes, Sir! Understood."
"Good"
-/-
Watchpoint: Gibraltar, six days later, 0917 hours.
Tracer and Mercy stumbled into the lecture hall, looking more than exhausted, more than tired and more than dead, and completely destroyed. They were like two walking corpses, freshly dug up from a grave.
Angela had dark blue circles around her eyes and was pale as ash, while Tracer's eyes were bloodshot, her hair just as messy as Mercy's and her face covered with dark black grease. Mercy apparently had trouble keeping herself on her feet while Tracer was more falling than walking forward. Her legs felt like they were made from concrete, and she wasn't too sure if the things her head were showing her were real or not.
"We are home" Tracer mumbled as she walked through the glass doors leading into the lecture room. Winston was giving a presentation about something in front of a larger group of people, but Lena's eyes were betraying her; all she saw was a big blur. She had trouble focusing her attention to the presentation Winston was giving, but luckily, she managed to at least see the people in attendance rather clearly. Tracer recognized most of them, as did Mercy, but there also were quite a few unfamiliar presences.
When he noticed the newcomers, Winston stopped talking, turning his head to the entrance, along with everyone else in the hall.
And they all noticed one thing rather quickly. No matter how utterly exhausted Tracer looked, she managed to look even more pissed off.
"Now for the love of god" Tracer continued "Would you tell me why we had to come here all in secret?! We could have booked a perfectly good flight back to this place. So why the secrecy? Do tell me, Winston" she said, her mood at an all time low and her voice enough to freeze the entire lecture hall. Normally, Tracer's thread of patience was a steel cable of unmatched strength and durability, but right now it was dangerously close to snapping.
"Lena!" Winston said full of worry "You look-"
Tracer cut him off loudly. "Oy, if you even think about telling me I look like shit now, I will kick your ass right out of the window, big guy!" Lena hissed. Up until now no one knew that the ever friendly, always happy Lena Oxton was even capable of doing something remotely reminiscent of hissing, but apparently she very much was... and that made it even more scary.
"We have been travelling for six days straight because you told us to not use traceable means of transportation. Do you have any idea how difficult that is, Winston?! I haven't closed an eye ever since we left my apartment in London and neither has Angela. We hitchhiked from London to Dover. Angela and I, two good looking women, because what could possibly happen, right? The outskirts of London aren't dangerous or anything! No no; not at all! I think Angela still has the imprints of her blaster-grip imprinted into her palm, that's how hard she squeezed it."
Lena paused a moment to give Mercy the opportunity to nod tiredly. At this point, the Swiss doctor was close to falling into a sleep-deprivation induced coma, while Tracer continued with her small outburst.
"But that wasn't the worst part! When we arrived in Dover, we hid inside a tiny cargo-area of a tankship, hoping it would bring us to Europe. But guess what? It didn't. We ended up in Egypt! And from there it was a lovely, fun little trip to Gibraltar on board a rusty old fishing smack together with four, perverted sixty-plus year old fishermen, who didn't understand the word lesbian and also didn't seem aware of the meaning behind fuck off! Can you imagine how nice that was, Winston? All because you thought it was necessary to be extra mysterious in that stupid recall message!"
Lena paused for a brief moment, in which she stared Winston down before she continued "I didn't sleep! I didn't shower! I barely ate! I am royally pissed off and I want to know what's going on for fucks sake! My location was leaked? Bloody hell, Winston! I never tried to hide my location! You can look it up in the phone book if you want to; it's that easy! So what is this ruckus about?" Lena exploded, her voice getting louder and louder with every word she spoke. Her hands were shaking violently, and the otherwise ever-so-happy-and-laid-back Lena Oxton seemed to have a hard time calming down.
She inhaled deeply, looking over to Angela for support, but the doctor was already dozing off, still standing. Lena nudged her in the side to wake her up, but that changed exactly nothing.
"Have you ever seen Angela so exhausted that she falls asleep while standing, Winston? Because I surely haven't." Lena crossed her arms over her chest, letting them rest on her chronal accelerator.
Winston sighed, rubbing over the bridge of his nose, adjusting his glasses in the process. He looked into the group of people, who had been listening to his presentation on what had happened at the Watchpoint prior to the recall. They all were now staring at Tracer, those who knew her already with a slightly bemused smile on their lips, while those who didn't know her just stared in surprise. Who was that woman and why was she making such a fuss? And who was the blonde falling asleep right next to her?
"Alright. Everyone, meet Lena Oxton. Codename Tracer. She is one of our best field-agents. And the other one currently falling asleep is Dr. Angela Ziegler. Also known as Mercy. She is our finest doctor and the best field-medic you will ever see." Winston introduced, before shifting his attention back to Lena and Angela. "Lena, listen, I am sorry for how things had to happen, but trust me when I say it was very important."
Lena repeatedly tapped her heel on the ground "We are here now, so-" she wanted to say that they might as well forget the chaos of their travels now that she had vented her anger and get on with the important stuff, but she was interrupted by Mercy collapsing right next to her. Tracer was just barely able to catch her now soundly sleeping best friend before she would have crashed to the floor like a falling tree.
Their six-day long journey had been particularly stressful for Mercy, all the way from London via Egypt to Gibraltar she had met people in dire need of help. Families struck by poverty so bad they were barely able to fill their tables with food, families ripped apart by Omnic attacks, or children mutilated by terror-attacks.
Lena knew her best friend.
Mercy wanted to help more than anything else, and she tried her best whenever she could wherever she could. But it was nowhere near enough. Angela couldn't help anyone, despite trying tirelessly.
What exhausted her so much wasn't only the physical stress and sleep deprivation, but even more so the emotional stress Mercy imposed on herself. Tracer knew how hard it was for her best friend to leave people behind. And nothing she said or did could have ever changed that.
Lena actually was surprised the Swiss doctor didn't collapse sooner.
And now Tracer was trying to hold Mercy somewhat upright. But she couldn't help and notice the toll their journey had on her own body. Working hard on that fishing smack as a way to pay for their travels had exhausted Tracer to a point where she also was close to collapsing. And holding Mercy now was getting more and more impossible.
"Could someone help me get Angela to her quarters?" Lena asked. Winston was already starting to move when someone in the back rows of the lecture hall, close to the entrance Tracer and Mercy had used, stood up and came closer.
"I'll give you a hand" the woman said with a nod. Tracer didn't have a lot of time to look at her, but she was wearing a simple dark grey uniform with a blue beret and heavy leather jump boots, her pants tucked into her shoes. The soldier was tall and carried her body with the precision only a well trained fighter could muster. Her voice was strong and commanding, making her background crystal clear. She came from the military. The woman had dark tanned skin and a tattoo right under her right eye, which formed together with her eye an ancient Egyptian symbol. The eye of Horus.
She didn't smile or show any other emotion when she crouched down and picked up Mercy from Tracer, lifting her into the air like it was nothing.
"Thanks...uhh" Lena replied, but didn't know how to call her. Lena got up from the ground and opened the door for the unknown soldier currently carrying Tracer's best friend. Somehow this felt a lot weirder than it should. Maybe it was because Tracer was on the brink of passing out herself.
"My name is Fareeha. Fareeha Amari" the woman introduced herself, following Tracer down the halls and corridors of the Watchpoint, brightly lit by the warm morning sun. The actual time of the day completely contradicted Tracer's inner clock where it was precisely bed-o'clock.
Tracer scratched her head. "Amari, that rings a bell..." she took a second longer than she should have, probably because her brain was craving sleep more than anything else in this moment, but Lena eventually figured it out. "Hang on! You're Ana's daughter!"
"I am" Fareeha replied with a nod. It wasn't a topic she liked to talk about. All her life she had dreamed about following in her mother's footsteps; of becoming just like her idol. Fareeha's mother was a hero to her daughter. She adored her like no one else.
But then, one fateful day, someone shot Ana, violently taking the mother away from the daughter. And just when Fareeha overcame her grief and sorrow from the loss of her mother and regained her determination to join Overwatch stronger than ever before, the organization was shut down. They weren't the brightest days of Fareeha's life, nor were they particularly enjoyable.
"Bloody hell!" Tracer smacked herself slightly onto her forehead "she always told so many stories about you" Tracer managed to giggle tiredly. "Damn, I must have left the perfect impression on you now. Sorry for the chaos. Mercy and I had a rough journey. I hope you feel welcome here!"
"Don't worry about it, Ma'am. I'm happy to be here." Fareeha replied with a nod. She had always wanted to accompany her mother more often, but Ana only took her daughter with her once. Fareeha still had the picture taken on that day carefully hidden away in her most private documents. It had been the best day of her life.
"Ohuu, no, no, nooo" Tracer laughed "Don't call me Ma'am, ok? Name's Lena. Or Tracer if you prefer. But please don't Ma'am me. I feel like my grandma"
"I will try and remember that" Fareeha replied with a little insecurity in her voice. Tracer was supposed to be her superior, no? This was starting on a heavy friendship basis, one the young Amari daughter didn't quite expect. She was used to military discipline and somehow had expected this place to be just the same as every other military institution. But so far there were no ranks, no Sir or Ma'am, and no harsh orders. It was more like a warm welcome into a family, and nothing like her first day at Helix Security, so much was sure.
"Thanks, luv" Tracer said friendly, leading the woman carrying Mercy to their destination. "Almost there" she announced, and started to fish for her keys in her brown jacket. Her fingers were clumsy, and it took her a bit longer to finally get the key into her hands, but Lena somehow managed. Unlocking one of the doors in the dorm-area of the Watchpoint, Tracer didn't hesitate to push the door out of the way and walk inside.
The orange door swung open, revealing the small private area behind it. Everything was exactly where it belonged. Mercy was keeping her quarters cleaned up nicely. Contrary to Tracer, who had a tendency toward being a little... unorganized.
"You have a key?" Fareeha asked curiously, raising an eyebrow. It did seem rather odd; why would Tracer have the key to someone else's dorm room? And it wasn't just a spare key either since it was fixed to Tracer's key ring.
"Sure have" Lena replied, flipping the lights on, since the dorm rooms didn't have any windows. "Just lay her down on the bed. I'll take care of the rest. Thank you for your help, Fareeha."
Ana's daughter did as she was told and carefully placed a silently snoring Mercy on her bed before she turned around to leave. She hadn't been here for more than three days and things were already starting to get a little... weird. Well, not really weird; just not the way Fareeha expected.
"May I ask you a personal question, Ma- Tracer?" the tall and proud woman asked, stopping next to Lena, who came out of the bathroom with a wet cloth.
"Of course! Fire away, luv" Lena replied, trying to sound happy, yet her exhaustion showing clearly in her voice.
"You and doctor Ziegler seem to be very close... Aare you...?"
Tracer giggled loudly. If she'd have gotten a pound for every time someone assumed that, Tracer would be the richest girl on planet earth by now. Hell, her parents thought they were together... Fun times. "We aren't a couple if that is what you are getting at. Angela is my best friend, but nothing more. If I'd have any chance with her, I'd have taken it years ago. But I'm the wrong gender for her."
For a brief moment, an emotion Tracer couldn't read flashed over Fareeha's face before she nodded "I see. Thank you. I'll be going back to the briefing then if you don't need me anymore"
"No, we'll be fine. Thanks again, Fareeha" Tracer said with a tired smile on her lips, watching the Egyptian nod once before she left, closing the door behind her.
-/-
Breakfast the next morning was kind of a weird thing for both Tracer and Mercy. Suddenly, the mess-hall was not only full with the standard science-personal, which returned from their holidays and didn't know anything about the incidents of a few days ago, but also harbored new faces, which neither one of them had ever seen in their life. Since they arrived so late at the Watchpoint because of their minor fuckup during their journey, they missed the introduction of everyone and were now basically confronted with a bunch of complete strangers. And it wasn't like they could have gotten to know everyone afterward. They both slept almost an entire day and night, waking up around breakfast time the following day. So, this was literally the first time Mercy and Tracer saw the new guys and weren't close to collapsing.
After Lena had tucked Angela into bed, undressing her and cleaning her up a little bit, she headed back to her quarter, grabbed the quickest shower she had ever taken and fell into bed naked. She fell asleep right on the covers and most likely didn't move the entire time she was out. The past 20 hours or so were the most revitalizing and refreshing hours in Tracer's entire life. She had never slept so soundly before, the exhaustion had been that close to killing her.
And now she was sitting at the breakfast table together with all her old brothers and sisters in arms, all those heroes from Overwatch with whom she had served the majority of her life.
A weird feeling. But a great one never the less. It might have been a little nostalgic, but things were almost like in the good old days. Except for the aging problem. Not that Tracer was affected by that.
"So, what exactly happened? I didn't get a chance to ask before" Tracer said while munching on her cereal. Hunger was the other very basic need she had to satisfy right after sleeping.
"Your journey back here was quite the adventure, wasn't it?" Reinhardt said, taking a sip from a huge mug of black coffee. The man was towering over the table like a giant bolder, his muscles squeezed into a grey shirt with an Overwatch patch on his right breast. It was quite possibly the biggest shirt available, but it still looked like it was going to burst any second.
"Don't remind me, verdammt!" Mercy sighed rubbing her temples in a counter-clockwise manner while staring at her empty plate of what had been scrambled eggs some minutes prior. "It was textbook Murphy's law. Everything which could have gone wrong, went wrong. I have no idea why we fucked that up so badly. But somehow we did."
Lena giggled "It all went wrong when we snuck onboard that tankship which was headed to Egypt. That was our mistake. We should have ignored what Winston said and just booked a flight with a fake ID" she somehow could see the humorous side to the last days now that she had slept enough and was currently devouring her third bowl of cereal.
"And where would we have gotten a fake ID from?" Mercy asked raising an eyebrow "I don't suspect you have some of those lying around somewhere?" she leaned a little forward to look past Torbjörn and at Tracer. The Brit just shrugged nonchalantly.
"Actually, I do" Tracer replied, before frowning "But only for myself; not for you, luv... so, point taken."
"I don't even want to know why you have fake IDs" Reinhardt shook his head in denial. "Anyway, it is nice to have the band back together"
"It is!" Lena nodded in agreement. She would have lied if she said she didn't miss everyone here terribly, even if they did see each other from time to time. "Which brings me back to square one: Why is the band back together?"
"Well, Oxton, we had a security breach" a voice said, approaching from behind. Jack Morrison didn't hesitate and grabbed a chair before he sat down on the table of his old comrades. He took a moment to look at Tracer and Mercy as if checking they were indeed alright before he continued. "Maybe it was my mistake. I figured holidays for everyone would be a good idea, so I sent the whole lot away to do just that. And just when I did, Talon attacked. They must have gotten wind about this, because their timing could not have been worse." He cleared his throat, stealing a piece of crispy bacon off of McCree's plate, who just shot him an evil glare. "Anyway, Reaper managed to steal all our personnel files. The codenames, the locations, their current positions. Not only of the former members, but also of the candidates Winston had set his eyes on. The spooky bastard took everything with him. Winston didn't want to take a risk and activated the recall initiative."
"It was about time, too" Reinhardt agreed. "The whole world is sinking into Scheiße"
"So that's why we have all those rookies over there?" Lena nodded towards a table, maybe two or three rows away from theirs, where a bunch of unfamiliar faces were currently having breakfast. They all looked rather new to this. The way they peered around in amazement was a dead giveaway. The only one Lena recognized was Fareeha, the soldier who carried Mercy to her dorm when Lena was too exhausted to do it.
There also was a woman almost as huge as Reinhardt with bright pink hair sitting in between an Indian type kind of girl and someone almost tiny in comparison. They all had their back to Lena, so she couldn't see a lot, but the tiny one had deep black hair, and when she quickly looked to her left, Tracer saw pink war paint on her cheeks. There were more people on their table, but thanks to the huge pink haired woman, Lena didn't really see anyone.
"Indeed. They are all good fellows. You might want to introduce yourself at some point."
"Will do, Morrison" Tracer replied, standing up. She was about to call for Mercy so she would come along, when Morrison stopped her and sat her back down.
"Not now!" He said rolling his eyes. Lena was always so... immediate "Winston has a job for you. He said that Athena calculated a few high priority targets which Talon might set their sights on at some point. He said you and Mercy should go and see him in his lab after breakfast." Morrison said to Tracer before turning to her best friend "He has something for you as well, doc" he announced, not actually knowing what Winston wanted to tell the two ladies. Not that he cared a lot.
"Sometimes the big guy is getting a little pushy" Lena huffed, poking at the last bit of cereal left in her bowl. She quickly scooped it up in her spoon and stuffed it into her mouth. "C'mon, lvv. Leff not lef Wimpfton waift." she mumbled, gesturing Mercy to come along while she stood up.
Turning to leave, Lena was stopped once again by Morrison, who leaned back in his chair "Oh, and Oxton?"
"Mh?" Lena looked over her shoulder, swallowing the cereal down.
"Hands off the new girls, ok? They have no idea their worst enemy isn't at the frontlines but in the same room with them right now" Morrison had a cheeky smile on his lips, causing Lena to roll her eyes.
"You are just jealous that I get more pussy than you do, Morrison" she shot back with a wink, walking away to the suppressed snickering of McCree and Reinhardt. Having everyone back was nice, but still, Lena really could have lived without the old jokes.
"I'm not that bad, am I?" Lena asked Angela as they walked past the table with the new guys. There were quite a few of them. The girl with the pink war paint was Asian and indeed rather cute.
Mercy had to suppress a giggle. "Face it, if not for your mystery French girl you would have hit on the poor Asian right now" she replied with a knowing smirk, turning Lena's cheeks bright red.
"You are terrible, luv" she accused, pouting playfully. Sometimes it was really bad that Mercy knew her so incredibly well. She most likely also knew exactly what Lena would have said.
"Noo... you are terrible, Süße. And you know it, because you like it" Mercy laughed happily, giving her best friend a slight push. Yep, the doctor knew Tracer inside out.
"Maybe a little bit" Oxton admitted reluctantly.
-/-
A/N:
Alright that's it for this chapter.
If you want to support me and my story, you can do so here:
tipeee com slash e82s-fanfiction
I really have to thank you all so infinitely much for all the support you are giving me. Guys, I can't tell you how much it means to me, really. I salute you all for the crazy support and hope you enjoy reading as much as I do writing. Usually I reply to most reviews, when I can, so I guess most of you know how happy you all make me. And for all the guest-reviews I just have to tell you here: You all bring a smile to my face every time I read a new review. Thank you so much!
One thing I wanted to mention: I decided to deepen the plot in this story and for that to work I needed to set some things up. Originally I wanted to have Widowtracer fun in this chapter, but it wouldn't have worked in the long run. I know I promised it last chapter, so please accept my sincere apologies. I would have liked to do it, but it wouldn't have been a good idea.
Trust me, we will see the two of them together soon enough, and also trust me when I say you are going to like it. I hope. In the long run I am preparing for some major events to unfold and these need to be developed properly.
So fasten your seatbelt, friends, fun times lay before us!
A huuuuge thank you to EhMattissimo again for being such an amazing beta-reader and for all his support.
Don't forget to review!
I will see you soon(ish)
o7
E82
Translations:
Pierdol się, brzydka małpo = (Polish) fuck you, ugly ape
Ta gueule(French) Shut up