Unmarked Talon controlled freighter near Diskon, 1940 hours.
"Attention all personal. Standby for refueling procedures. Fire-containment teams report to sections 9 - 14 immediately!" A monotonous, bodiless voice announced over the speaker system inside the ship.
Widow just smirked as she carried a large black sports bag over her shoulder, her right arm idly resting on the top of the bag, the palm touching the zipper as if making sure it was still closed. Her timing could not have been better. Just as usual, it was spot on.
Everything had been taken care of. Amélie procured Mercy's files as well as her own from the servers, stored them on a datapad, and printed them, just to be sure. Better safe than sorry. She had packed the uniform for Mercy and all of what little Widow possessed, like her rifle and gear, a detonator for plastic explosives and, most importantly, Tracer's shirt, inside the sports bag, and was now walking back to Angela's cell at a relaxed pace.
'Don't draw attention.'
Widowmaker usually planned her missions herself. This was just like any other job with the little difference of it being in a known environment. Which was a benefit. She could move freely, because she had all the right in the world to be here.
Yet she couldn't help but feel a certain edginess creep up in her guts. This little private mission shouldn't have made her so nervous. If nervous was even the right word to use. Widowmaker was never nervous on missions.
But this time was different. Despite the huge advantages she had, she still had to concentrate so that her fingers wouldn't tremble, relaxing her breath and calming her racing mind. It was probably because her little endeavor was of such grave personal importance that Amélie wasn't quite as cold and collected as she usually was during her hunts. But a large part of her knew it wasn't only the personal investment. It was also the lingering fear of knowing what would happen to her should she fail.
Widow didn't even want to think about it.
Trying to get her mind out of those dark places, she wondered what Mercy could be up to by now. Amélie suspected the Swiss doctor would have already taken care of Mr. Montgomery. She was about to find out as she opened the door leading into Mercy's cell.
Amélie thought Angela would have just killed Montgomery or something. But what she saw didn't really fit to what Tracer had told Amélie about her kind and caring best friend.
Montgomery was bound to the very same chair Mercy had been tied to before. He was topless while his face was completely bruised and bloodshot by now as Angela towered over him, loudly but calmly talking to him in her native tongue. Widow swallowed heavily. She would not have wanted to switch place with him right now.
"Sag es! Sag es, du widerwärtiges Bastardkind einer blutigen Hafenhure! Sag es! Bevor ich dich aufschneide von hier nach da, dir die Haut von deinen erbärmlichen Knochen reiße und über deinem Kopf zusammenkote! Davon stirbst du nicht, aber du wirst ersticken! SAG ES!" she hissed, her voice scarily void of emotions, yet with trembling hands as Montgomery looked at her with a scared expression.
"I don't understand a word of what you just said" he muttered in heavy breaths, his head turning to Widow, who he just spotted coming through the door.
"Oh, mon Dieu, Mercy, do you kiss your mother with that mouth?" Widow asked with a smirk. The doctor's head briefly turned toward the newcomer.
"Widowmaker" Angela greeted and breathed deeply, nodding at the other woman, before she turned her attention back to Montgomery. Mercy was wearing the grey rubber apron usually worn by her tormentor over her otherwise stark naked body. Somehow she had also managed to pull her messy hair together in that trademark topknot she liked to wear so much. She looked rather intimidating and Widow was sure that carefully hidden behind that facade of mock calmness was a ferocious storm of anger and pain. It made the whole scene only more horrifying.
"Mercy" Amélie replied back with the same polite nod while she let the bag she was carrying drop onto a cart filled with various torture instruments.
"Help me, Widow! What are you-?" Montomery started in despair, but was roughly smacked over his head by a returning Widowmaker.
"Shut up!" she sneered at him. Focusing her attention completely on Angela, she noticed just how shaken up Mercy really was, despite her trying hard to appear calm and collected. She didn't look too good anymore. Her face was pale and there were dark rings around her eyes. But the worst part was that her body was slightly trembling. Her nerves must have been raw, understandably so.
"Alles in Ordnung?" [are you alright?] Widowmaker asked in Angela's native tongue, yet with a very prominent French accent. She did speak quite a lot of languages. Talon crammed that knowledge into her head whether she wanted it or not. At least it was useful.
Meanwhile, Montgomery stared at her, not understanding what was going on, his eyes begging for help. His silent pleas were left unanswered. Amélie just stepped behind Mercy and placed a supportive hand on her quivering shoulder. Gently pushing her back and away from Montgomery, Widow saw the eerie purple glow in Mercy's watery eyes and the scalpel she was holding clenched in her blood-smeared fist. Widowmaker carefully peeled the sharp tool out of Angela's hand and apparently only then Mercy realized that she had been staring at her tormentor the entire time. She snapped out of it, shaking her head loose of the dark thoughts rampaging inside her and settling for a simple nod as an answer for Widow.
She wanted to say something, but Montgomery interrupted her before she could even find the right words.
"Widowmaker, what are you doing?! Why are you helping her? What are you talking about?" he pleaded to know, the terror clearly apparent in his croaky voice. Montgomery sounded pathetic. For someone who had taken such immense pleasure in hurting others, he surely couldn't take a lot of pain.
Coward.
"I am not your god damn translator, enfoiré!" Widow hissed, turning to the tied up torturer "But I recommend you say what she wants you to say before she stops cursing you and starts flaying you. Because that's what she said she is going to do to you: flay you alive in a way which doesn't kill you, and proceed to tie your skin above your head, watching you suffocate to death" Widowmaker explained coolly and absolutely devoid of any emotions, like she placed an order for take-out dinner. "And seeing how she is, contrary to you, a trained medical professional, I'd take this threat very seriously. There is little doubt that she can pull that one off."
Montgomery swallowed as Amélie was pushed to the side by Mercy. "Say it, you little piece of shit. Say it and we are done."
But he didn't speak up. At least not fast enough. So, Angela punched him straight across his face, like she obviously had done quite a few times before. Contrary to her, Montgomery didn't heal up immediately. She wanted to do much more, but couldn't. In her heart was so much hate and anger it blinded her senses. All she could think of was punching him over and over and over again until her hands were bleeding.
There were no words for what she felt for this monster. There was no way she could ever express how horrible she felt. Even now that he was the one bound to a chair and she the one inflicting the pain, Mercy still felt so dirty; so used and so very fragile. Despite having suffered through everything without breaking, she felt vulnerable. Hauling off for another punch, her arm was caught by Widowmaker before it could land a blow on Montgomery's face.
Her head snapped around to look at the woman who had stopped her with a mixture of a quizzical expression, slight betrayal, and seething rage.
"Your hands are far too valuable for primitive punching. Besides, I need you to remove the tracker later on. Can't really do that with broken fingers, can you?" Widow said, gently yet with quite some determination pushing her aside.
"I suggest you tell her what she wants to hear, Montgomery" Widowmaker glared daggers at the torturer. If looks could kill, Archibald Montgomery would have been dead a thousand times over. "Or I am going to beat it out of you." Widow smiled a scarily inappropriate warm smile at him.
"Why are you-?" His sentence turned into loud screams when Widow slammed the scalpel she took from Mercy before into his thigh. She didn't mess around. "I ask the questions. You just say what Mercy wants to hear. Now."
"Widow-" Montgomery breathed, crying out loud again when Amélie twisted the scalpel around in his leg. It was disgusting. That human trash was spilling his repulsive dark blood everywhere. Widow had to step aside so her heels wouldn't be soiled. "Wrong. Try again, enfoiré!"
Montgomery breathed, but didn't speak up. Mercy just stood there kind of awkwardly, watching the whole scene. She couldn't help but feel her heart cry out in relief with each delicious cry of pain. For reasons Mercy didn't understand, it felt much better watching Widow do this than actually doing it herself.
"Nothing? Mh." Widow shrugged, roughly pulling the blade upwards in his thigh, splitting the flesh in half "Mercy, in your professional opinion, how many filets would we get out of his thighs?" she asked, grabbing his throat with her free hand and suffocating the scream he produced, turning it into a wheezing burble.
Mercy blinked. She wanted to laugh in delight with all the joy she felt to see that thing in such pain. But she also felt like she shouldn't idly stand by and watch this madness! She was a doctor, for crying out loud. Her whole life she wanted to help people. Yet, she had also killed before. And she had also seen others being killed at the hand of someone else; people who deserved it way less than Montgomery.
And then there was the fact that Widowmaker was doing this for her. Angela didn't understand her motivations whatsoever, but she was trying to get him to say what Mercy had been trying to hear from Montgomery since she overwhelmed him the second her hands were free and she was alone with him again.
Just as she wanted to reply with her answer, Montgomery chose to open his filthy mouth.
"No! Stop! I'll say it! I'm sorry!" he yelled "I'm sorry, ok?! Just stop it! I said it! I am sorry! I am sorry!"
Amélie looked over to Mercy who nodded faintly. There. He said it. He apologized. It seemed so stupid, but Mercy liked to believe that it would maybe give her some kind of closure or a definite end to all this shit.
After a moment of waiting for Mercy to say something else, Widowmaker yanked the blade out of his flesh, causing him to cry in pain. Apparently everything was said and done on Angela's behalf.
"Why, Widow? Why are you betraying us now? After all those years! What did I ever do to you?" Montgomery managed between hissed sounds of pain.
Amélie just snorted in bemusement, looking deeply into his glazed red eyes. "You got that all wrong, Montgomery. It's not you..." she said with a smirk "...it's me" and with that snide remark she slashed the scalpel clean through his throat. With his eyes wide, the blood was gurgling out of his cut neck and spilling all over his body and onto the floor.
Within seconds, Archibald Montgomery, Talon's great master torturer, was no more. Widow relished the moment of the kill with a slightly wicked smile on her lips. It continued to give her a kick, taking a life, even if it was a miserable one. It still made her heart beat faster and harder. A large part of her was enjoying this, and she knew that it would probably never go away completely. It was part of who Widowmaker was now; a part of who Amélie had become.
A moment of heavy silence spread in the cell before Mercy spoke up again.
"He deserved far worse for what he did" Angela stated bitterly, the eerie purple glow in her eyes slowly fading away. Mercy squeezed her lids shut for a moment, and upon reopening them the violet hue was gone, replaced by a shocked and horribly sad blue ocean.
"Oui. That he did." Widowmaker agreed "But he wasn't worth more of my time." she added, enjoying the shocked expression still frozen on Montgomery's dead face. What she didn't enjoy was how Angela started to shiver badly; looking at her own blood smeared and bruised hands, then at Widow before her gaze wandered over to Montgomery once again. Amélie really wished that Lena would be here right now. Angela looked like she was on the verge of a nervous breakdown, and Widow had no idea what to do if that actually happened.
She didn't do emotions well. Hell, she didn't even understand her own feelings half of the time, yet alone those of someone else. Widowmaker was still stumbling her way forward into that new world Tracer introduced her to.
Suddenly, Amélie felt how Mercy feebly hugged her from the side, awkwardly trying to wrap her arms round the French beauty. Widowmaker froze in place for a moment, only used to physical contact from Lena, when she noticed that Angela was sobbing. Her calm facade had crumbled to peaces the moment Montgomery's blood spilled onto the rusty metal floor.
"Is it over?" she choked between rasped breaths. "Please tell me it is over. I- I can't... anymore. Please." she tried to say, but her words were nothing but ragged sobs. Angela had no idea how long she had been locked up in here. She was exhausted, her body was hurting inside out, and she was legitimately confused. All this time she had tried to stay strong in order to withstand whatever Talon did to her, steeling her mind against their assaults and repeating her little mantra over and over again. But now, all of a sudden, it seemed to be over, out of nowhere there was relieve.
Suddenly, she felt safe. It was like she had been pushing against a massive, unmoving wall which now was just... gone. Mercy floundered forward, trying not to fall, and the only one who was there to catch her was Widowmaker.
Irrational it may be, but right in this moment she seemed like some kind of angelic protector, a savior who wouldn't allow harm to come to Mercy. It was too much for Dr. Ziegler. She felt so worthless. So guilty. Undeserving to live on where Fareeha wasn't allowed to. Mercy wanted to be strong, for Pharah, for her friends, and for those who depended on her, but Angela couldn't do it anymore. She couldn't take it anymore when she broke down in a sobbing mess, desperately clinging to Widowmaker for support.
God. Amélie hated that he was right about this. Widowmaker had never in her entire life comforted someone. It had never been necessary before. And she, of course, had no idea how to do it. Tracer was the one who gave emotional support; not her! She was too new to emotions in general to even rudimentarily understand what was going on inside of Mercy apart from maybe incredible relief.
Angela shouldn't lean on Widowmaker right now. Or better yet, never. Then again, there was no one else around, and this had to be a good sign as well. Didn't it show that Mercy trusted Widow at least to a certain degree? She wouldn't allow herself to break down like that if she considered her a threat, would she?
Still, wouldn't Lena be much more cut out to help her now?
But Tracer, unfortunately ... or fortunately, wasn't here now. That meant Widow was left with little choice but to quickly think of what her lover would most likely do in such a situation.
One thing was certain; she couldn't leave Angela like this. Not only because she still had to remove a tracking chip from Amélie's neck, but also because they were nowhere near done yet. This was the first of many steps. They were not safe yet. And Widowmaker needed Mercy at one hundred percent if she wanted a chance to get out of here alive. This meant the sobbing doctor needed to calm down.
Widowmaker turned in Angela's embrace and pulled her a little closer "Yes, Angela. It's nearly over." She told her, and would have almost used chérie, but that phrase was reserved for Lena and Lena alone. "He won't ever touch you again; I promise. Relax. We need to keep a calm mind. We aren't out of here just yet, remember?" Amélie said, slowly letting go of Mercy, after the doctor had taken a deep breath and calmed herself down a little. She looked at Widowmaker for a moment with her deep blue eyes before wiping the tears away.
Turning to look at Montgomery's blood covered corpse, Mercy took in the sight. Some part of her was incredibly satisfied to see him dead, some part of her regretted it came to this, and another part of her was of a different opinion altogether. He should have been hung by his feet.
"It's over." Angela repeated as if she was convincing herself. Mercy couldn't really believe that she would owe her life to Overwatch's most wanted assassin. It didn't make any sense. But Angela was at a point where she just accepted things the way they were. The fact is that Widowmaker was the one helping her now, without any real need or pressing reason, at least none Mercy understood. She was helping, and she watched out for Mercy. The reason didn't really matter, did it?
"Thank you so much, Widowmaker" Angela said with the utmost sincerity in her thanks. The assassin just shrugged, rather uncomfortable with this kind gratitude. She wasn't doing it for Mercy. She was doing it for Tracer and herself. So they could be together again. Her motivations were horribly selfish at the end of the day.
"Don't thank me. I am helping myself, remember?"
"But you are helping me, too. And I am thankful for that" Mercy replied firmly.
"Whatever. Are you ready to move on?" Amélie asked, and got a firm nod from the doctor.
"Good; we are on a schedule after all. There is something for you in the black bag I brought with me. Go slip into that." Widow said, eyeing Mercy carefully "The rubber apron doesn't suit you." she added with a teasing smirk, doing a decent job at lighting up the mood at least a little bit.
Mercy nodded and turned away to do what Widow told her. Amélie stayed where she was for a moment longer, looking at Montgomery. He definitely had it coming, and Widow was sure that from all her victims, those few she vaguely remembered and those many she clearly didn't, this guy would be no one she'd ever shed a tear over.
Widowmaker heard Angela shuffle through the bag while she walked over to her and watched as Mercy pulled out various different pieces of clothing before placing them wherever there was room around the bag. Shoes, white underwear of approximately Mercy's size, black pants with a red stripe covering the outside seam, an equally black uniform jacket with a golden epaulette and a single silver star on it, and collar patches with two double wings. There also was a black leather coat with the same military marks, a combination cap with the Talon symbol on it and a simple grey T-shirt.
Just when Mercy was about to wonder why there was a rather odd shirt in there, Amélie quickly snatched the grey cotton fabric out of her fingers. It would have been a disaster if Angela had seen the print of the Royal Air Force on it. Luckily, Widow was fast enough to stuff Lena's RAF shirt back into the bag.
"That's mine" she hastily explained. Amélie really didn't want to elaborate now on how she got a shirt from the RAF and why exactly it was in her bag. Especially considering that the damn thing was clearly a world too small for her... and probably still smelled like Lena. Which it did. Widow had used it to calm her nerves just before she made her way to Mercy's holding room.
But Angela seemed to think nothing of it as she just shrugged and started to slip into the undergarments Widow provided.
"I wish I could have showered..." Mercy muttered under her breath.
"It will have to do" Widowmaker remarked, waiting for Mercy to get dressed. She noticed the large pair of black wings in the corner of the room and walked over to them, inspecting them for a while. It didn't take a genius to figure out what they were made for, especially considering the various tubes circulating blood through the cold flesh and how the wings slightly moved some of the larger feathers on the edge, as if sailing in the wind. Widowmaker had to admit the wings were looking rather marvelous from a rational distance, ignoring their purpose. Their shiny black feathers were large and the wings seemed like they were cut off the back of a fallen angel.
They would have been beautiful had they not been created to be implanted into someone's back against their will. These tragic wings would have been the cause of a lot of pain, both physical and psychological. It wasn't like such a huge and heavy addition to one's body wouldn't have any effects on the victim's physiology. The body needed to adjust to both the added weight, the shifted balance, and the sudden need of substantially more blood. And those were just the most obvious things. Changing sleeping habits, probably being unable to sit properly, and a way more complicated personal hygiene were the things you didn't think about in the first place, but which would most likely wear the bearer down over time. Also, how did one get dressed with a pair of huge wings on your back?
The changes Talon made to Amélie's body were rather insignificant in comparison, and she had to struggle for years with unwanted side effects. It wasn't until a few months ago that she was able to finally stop taking a certain medication, which prevented her body from shutting itself down. In other words: A slow and painful, yet certain, death.
She didn't even want to imagine what those wings would have done to Angela's petite and slender body if Talon would have followed through with their plan. She would have never been the same again.
"They wanted to implant them into my back" Mercy said, as if confirming Widowmaker's thoughts. Mercy's voice was completely void of any emotions as she appeared right next to Widow, fully dressed. The doctor looked actually rather impressive in that dark, black uniform of a Talon Brigadier General.
"Mh. They enjoy doing things like that" Widow replied, trying not to dwell on it for much longer. The empty expression on Angela's face made it clear that she was well aware of how the consequences for herself would have looked.
Of course Mercy was aware of the likely effects. She was a proper doctor after all; maybe the smartest one the world currently had to offer. There was no way she wouldn't have known.
"They changed you too, didn't they?" Angela said silently, like she wasn't allowed to speak about it "I noticed how cold your skin is."
Widowmaker didn't miss a beat as she answered, deciding to just tell Mercy now instead of letting her read everything in the files she brought along. It was probably better this way, so Mercy could find out about all the things Talon did in a more personal way than the rational distance a medical report file created. They always made what was basically torture sound like huge medical achievements.
Amélie usually didn't ever talk about her modifications. The few shattered memory fragments that were left inside her head from the countless operations and procedures were too painful for her. She hadn't even told Tracer, fearing what it might do to the bubbly Brit. Widow had no idea that Lena already knew what happened.
"Artificially reduced heart rate and body-temperature. My eyes were removed and replaced with biogenetic implants. They adjusted my metabolism for more efficiency. I can go for weeks without nourishment, if it need be. They toned down all of my emotions except for the more primal instincts, those which made us great hunters in the past. I didn't feel anything apart from the pleasure of killing for so long." She sighed, looking at Mercy whose mouth was slightly agape and her eyes were wide open in shock. "I don't know why that is. They probably did something to me to make me enjoy killing. I don't remember." Amélie inhaled deeply at the memory of Lena lying in front of her, bleeding after Widowmaker had beaten her up and trying desperately to make her remember; to shake her out of the nightmare she was stuck in. A cold shudder crept up and down Widow's spine at the thought. "It was just recently that... someone woke me up. I don't want to forget that person again." she explained.
"You don't want to forget?" Mercy found herself asking before she could stop herself. It wasn't really her business at all, probing this deep into Widowmaker's day to day life, but a part of her needed to know. The same part of her that didn't understand why Talon's killer would help her. Apparently there was way more to Widowmaker than anyone had suspected. The feeling that Widowmaker might actually be the victim in all of this came back at full force. Before now, the thought that Amélie wasn't here of her free will never even crossed Mercy's mind. But apparently that was exactly the case.
She heard the French woman inhale sharply yet again. "They reset my memory every two months, so I don't remember anything they don't want me to after that. Probably to keep me obedient and dependent, I don't really know. Never dared to ask. It's like you watch an old movie through frosted glass with completely messed up audio. Sometimes there are confusing fragments left, but nothing makes any sense. I-" she stopped herself, searching for the right words but not finding them. She couldn't phrase that her sense of self was almost gone every two months and that she had to somehow piece together who she was only to be wiped clean again. Most of the time she just blindly stumbled forward, confused and left alone, doing what they told her she had to do simply because there was no other way. "I just don't remember." Widowmaker didn't tell the doctor that whenever she did remember something, or better yet, when Lena helped her remember, it felt like someone was drilling her head open with a dull spoon.
"You never wanted anything of this to happen, did you?" Mercy asked, a horrible reality becoming more and more clear with each word Widowmaker spoke.
"I-" Widow choked "No. I didn't join voluntarily. I think."
"That's why you are helping, right? So you don't forget again." Mercy stated more than she asked.
"Yes" Widow nodded. "Everything prior to a few weeks ago is just one big blur. I don't remember anything before that." she said with a subdued sneer. It wasn't Angela's fault but Widowmaker found herself growing angry.
"Nothing?" Angela asked sadly. This sounded like such a horrible fate to suffer. "Not even your family?"
Widow shook her head no, her eyes still fixed to the dark wings gently moving back and forth as if they somehow contained the answers she was searching for. "I never had family as far as I am concerned." True "I don't remember any family either." Lies. I remember Lena full well. "Sometimes I recall faint images of a random man, but those memories feel too heavy and intimidating. I get uncomfortable when they come back." Widow said, getting exactly said feeling of distress. She quickly shoved these thoughts aside. If at all, she'd share that with Lena, not her lover's best friend. "And that's it." Widow forced a laugh on her lips "Now I'm just a tool to them. They made me the way I am: A malfunctioning walking weapon."
Her last words lingered heavy in the stifling air for a moment of complete silence.
"I am so sorry" the doctor said silently, awkwardly looking away. Somehow the reality of everything around her still wasn't fully processed by Angela's hyper intelligent mind. The reality of just how close Mercy had come to a fate maybe even worse than Widowmaker's. And that the latter was the one bailing her out of this nightmare now. There were so many questions floating around in her head, she had difficulties sorting through them. But the most important one was the why? Why was Widowmaker helping? Who did she do this for? Was it the same person she didn't want to forget? Probably. Heavens, each word of their brief exchange revealed a cold and cruel reality behind the feared assassin called Widowmaker. It wouldn't surprise Mercy if the person fearing Widowmaker the most was the hitman herself.
"They made me a great sniper" Amélie shrugged, deciding to finally change the topic of their conversation. They shouldn't even have it in such detail in the first place, let alone here and now. It was the worst possible location at the worst possible time. Inside of Mercy's cell, with a dead Montgomery still strapped to a chair. But somehow Amélie understood why Angela was Lena's best friend. You could talk to the doctor. You felt like she was listening to you without judging you. Widowmaker decided that she'd maybe give Mercy a chance. If she seemed trustworthy, she might give that whole friendship thing a try one day.
Maybe.
For a brief moment, Widowmaker felt a cold shiver run up and down her spine. Her spider senses were tingling. She couldn't help but feel like someone was watching. But that was impossible. The observation room was locked, and the cameras were turned off. She was getting paranoid.
"Listen, let's take care of this tracker in my neck and then we need to get going." she said, turning away from the wings and back to her bag, searching for the stuff Mercy had requested. She placed it on the same table right next to the gym bag while Mercy kept staring at the imposing black pinions. 'If not for her, it would have happened to me. I really owe her. Big time.'
"Mercy?" Widowmaker tapped on the doctor's shoulder. That seemed to snap Angela out of her momentary daze as she turned toward Amélie and inspected her neck for a moment.
"Gut. I need you to remove the suit around your neck and sit down on that chair." Mercy said, walking over to the small sink where she quickly but thoroughly washed her hands. She carefully rid them from all the old blood on her skin before cleaning the new scalpel Widow brought along with disinfectant, just like she had done a thousand times before. It was routine. And routine calmed her down. "I don't have a sedative, so this is going to hurt." The doctor said, slipping the rubber gloves on.
"Just cut that damn thing out." Widow groaned after she nonchalantly pushed Montgomery off the chair she was told to sit on. His dead body fell to the floor without anyone batting an eye. The whole area was completely smeared with dark blood, but it couldn't be helped now. They didn't have the time to clean up now, so Amélie simply threw Montgomery's rubber apron over the chair, so she at least wouldn't sit in his blood. It had to suffice. "I want to get out of here" she said, sitting down and clamming her hands tightly around the chair's legs. There was no armrest.
-/-
"All done" Mercy said, showing Amélie a long silver needle a little thicker than a nail maybe but also a lot shorter. She placed the metallic thing in the sink at the backside of the room. Even if this was basically an easy operation, Mercy hated doing it. Her hands were trembling like they did on the day she took her final practical exam. But apparently Widow was perfectly content with Mercy's performance. She didn't even flinch when the scalpel had torn through her cold flesh and the purple blood had gushed forward.
Widowmaker rubbed over the bandage tightly wrapped around her neck before she closed her bodysuit again. Mercy really knew what she was doing, so much was certain. The procedure wasn't painful at all. At least not compared to the stuff she usually found painful.
The worst part was how shocked Angela was when she saw Widowmaker's purple blood.
"You good to go?" Amélie asked, and received a firm, determined nod from Angela, as the French assassin grabbed for the bag on the cart next to them. Reaching inside, she handed Mercy a pistol with the words "just in case."
Hesitating for a moment, Angela took it and quickly tucked it away in the inside pocket of her coat as she followed Widowmaker out of the room and into a dark and only sparsely lit corridor. For a moment, Mercy's vision got blurry and she had a disquieting feeling spreading from her stomach into her body. She was concerned for an instant, knowing what this meant, but the feeling was gone as fast as it came. Maybe being a bit foolish, Mercy ignored the signal her body was giving her not for the first time in the last couple of hours, or days, or however long she had been locked up and tormented by Montgomery. It didn't matter. What mattered was that her condition was progressively getting worse.
Luckily, Widowmaker didn't notice. And with a bit of luck, she'd be back at the Watchpoint before anything major happens.
'I just need my staff. I really need it.' Mercy thought, following right behind Amélie who was explaining the plan to her.
"You are Brigadier General Natasha Azarova" Widow went over in hushed whispers to Mercy as they changed into an almost abandoned corridor. She would have done this while the doctor was removing the tracking device from her neck, but Angela had told her to shut up and not move during the procedure. So, Widowmaker was making good use on the time now. "You wait for others to salute, count to three, then dismiss them. Otherwise, ignore everyone. If someone wants something from you, just give them crap. You are the General, you can do whatever you want."
"Couldn't you have found a uniform from someone less important?" Mercy asked, stressing out. This seemed like a horrible idea all of a sudden, as everyone who walked past them seemed to notice her. "And what about the real Natasha Azarova?"
"No. This way you will be left alone. You two look similar enough, so don't worry" Widow shrugged "No one will dare to speak up, trust me, Azarova is infamous for her cruelty"
"That's not what I meant. What if we run into her?" Mercy wanted to know.
"We-" Widow suddenly stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. She definitely felt something strange yet again. Someone was watching them; she could feel it. There was a certain breeze of air which should not have been there. She stared down the abandoned corridor behind her, but no one was there.
"What is it?"
"Shh!" Widow hissed, shutting Mercy up immediately. Listening for a few more seconds, Widow deemed herself completely paranoid and turned around again "It's nothing. Forget it."
"As I was saying, we won't run into Azarova, just trust me. I took care of that hassle." Widow said with a very suggestive smirk on her lips, and Mercy decided that she didn't even want to know. Aware of what Widowmaker was so infamous for, someone was probably venting her brain right now.
"Alright, alright. What now?" Angela asked, just to get that particular picture out of her mind. She had seen enough blood and violence for quite some time. She could really live just fine without imagining even more gore.
"We head topside, procure a boat, and head straight for Diskon. From there we shall see."
"That does sound rather easy..." Mercy pondered "But don't you think they'll follow us?"
"I have placed enough C4 at the fuel valves to level a skyscraper. Once I hit the switch, no one will be able to even count bodies. We make it to a safe distance and then it's time to say Au revoir! After that we'll have them off our backs."
"Oh." Was all Mercy could reply with when Widowmaker changed corridor. She deviated from the route she initially wanted to take, but she couldn't get rid of the suspicion that someone was following her. And she couldn't have that. So, she quickly came up with an idea where she'd lose their prosecutor. Widow just hoped Mercy was ready to face some people. Even if it only was for a moment or two. It would have to work.
"Listen, I am not taking any chances with this. If I am going to vanish, I will do it right. No way in hell am I going to risk that Talon learns I am still alive after this." Widow said with a hateful sneer, glad that Mercy was completely oblivious to the real reason why Amélie wanted to get away from Talon so desperately. She doubted that Angela would understand. She doubted anyone would understand that she wanted to go so she could be with Tracer. That the cold blooded, cruel assassin was no one she chose to be, but a side that was forced on her. Amélie didn't have a choice ever before. She literally took the first one she got to make a run for it. The first time she could decide, Amélie did decide.
And she chose life, happiness, peace and, most importantly, Lena Oxton. If it wasn't for Tracer and her incomparable kindness, her affection, her persistence, and her sometimes annoying nature, none of this would have happened. But Widowmaker knew that no one would understand that let alone believe her. So she didn't bother with a reason. They would all assume it was some kind of ruse, a trick, or whatever else. Something to hurt those whose trust she had gained. "But let's see that we make it to Diskon first. You might want to contact your friends then. Do you have someone you can trust and who would come and pick us up?" Widow asked, even if she knew the answer already
"Ja, I think so. My best friend. She is... was a pilot. I am sure she would come and pick us up. And I am sure I can convince her to not shoot you. Probably"
Widowmaker had to suppress a smile. She had to imagine what Tracer would say and do once she found out who had brought her best friend back. Or how they'd act around each other. Would Tracer keep the act of not knowing each other up? It didn't matter. The decision was hers in the end. It would just be important that Widow brought Mercy back.
Amélie looked forward to a very particular reward which she would surely get from her lover. She couldn't wait to be in her warm embrace again. It was almost scary how much she needed the Brit already; how much she craved to be around her, to be able to touch her, and to be able to hold her tight. Amélie would naturally never admit as much, but Lena had her completely under her irresistible charm. She didn't stand a chance.
"Excellent." Widow said, doing a good job at hiding the excitement in her voice. Mercy mustn't know that her new found ally was a lot closer to that best friend of hers than she might have guessed. "I hope you have found to your role as a Talon General, because we have to go through here" she added coolly. And before Angela could ask what she meant, Amélie had already opened the door in front of them, waiting until Mercy had walked inside. "Just keep moving."
Loud chatting and the sound of countless people talking to each other merged to an inaudible murmur like it could only exist in one place.
They were standing in the mess-hall.
Mercy froze in place no more than two steps in and blankly stared forward. Talon fucking everywhere. A gigantic pool of black uniforms and she would have to walk right past them to the other side. Angela could only think about one thing and one thing alone; someone would recognize her. There were more than enough soldiers of Talon in the corridors when Montgomery had dragged her along from one location to the next. Someone would look at her and remember where they had seen her before.
Widowmaker groaned silently, noticing just where Mercy chose to freeze. Of course she just had to ignore what Widow said and didn't keep walking. Great. It was the absolute worst place to stop; especially for an officer.
Right next to the guard, who was posted at each entrance, like she was waiting for something most members of the generals expected when they entered a room.
And as if fate wouldn't have it any other way, Mercy turned around in the exact wrong moment when the guard was looking at her.
He swallowed heavily, looking at Angela, taking in her uniform while simultaneously reading the name-tag on the left side of her chest.
Quickly snapping to attention he saluted before inhaling deeply. Widowmaker knew what would follow. And she didn't want to see it happen.
"Teeeeeeeeeen-hut!" he roared over the chaos in the mess hall. "Brigadier General Azarova!"
The introduction.
'Non! This isn't happening!' Amélie wanted to sink into the floor and die, the plan of being left alone was backfiring massively right about now.
Despite it all, Widowmaker had to give some credit to Angela: she handled herself well when the entire mess hall suddenly shot up from their places and snapped to attention. She stared into the hall and, despite being confused as hell for a moment, she managed to look more pissed off. Angela didn't allow them to stand at ease. Be that because she forgot or because she did what Widow told her was a different question entirely.
The seconds ticked past, and Angela's heart was racing like crazy, her mind completely vacant of any useful information or any idea of what to do. She could clearly recall the exact anatomy of all 21 muscles in the human forearm in this moment... which was not helping her. Mercy didn't even understand why that particular information popped into her mind now. But it somehow did; it must have been the adrenaline rushing through her veins like barbed wire.
Luckily, that bit of complete bollocks was followed by Widowmaker's words 'Give people crap'. Angela remembered how her old drill-sergeant back in basic training had always loudly barked at the recruits like they were nothing but human trash. And then her creativity kicked in as she caught a breath. The moment seemed like an eternity and two minutes instead of the few seconds it probably lasted in reality.
"What time is it, soldier?" Mercy asked the man to her left, an angry expression on her face, ignoring his rank simply because she couldn't read it.
The man swallowed and looked at his watch. "It is 2110 hours, General." he replied, trying to maintain a firm voice but failing.
"And you think this is an appropriate time for sitting around and having fun in the casino?" Mercy yelled loudly, actually rather impressing Widow with the determination in her voice. The doctor herself had no idea how she was pulling it off, and she hardly heard herself speak. Adrenaline was a wonderful thing, wasn't it? Even though it scratched through your insides like it wanted to tear them apart.
"Ma'am-"
"Don't you dare talk back to me. Everyone will report to their respective stations and get back to work, you lazy bums! Dismissed!" she roared, causing the entire population of the mess hall to slightly fall out of their stiff posture to look confused at Mercy.
That was when Widowmaker stepped up to support the fake officer. "What are you waiting for? You heard the General! Supper is over! Get your ass in gear before I do it for you!"
"Yes, Ma'am!" The soldiers yelled in unison before quickly scrambling. Widowmaker utilized the chaos and gently pushed Angela forward through the disorder to the other side.
"What did I just do?" Angela asked silently, and visibly shaken up, as Widowmaker guided her through the muddled ado of people clad in intimidating black. Mercy's heart felt like exploding it was working so fast. She tried to walk upright, but it cost quite some concentration to do so.
"A good job, chouchoute"
-/-
The hotel, Diskon, 2148 hours.
Tracer was absent-minded and half asleep munching on some Russian soup Zarya's grandmother had brought them about an hour before. It was stupidly spicy but rather delicious and it made Lena's never ending feeling of freezing to death go away.
She was staring at a satellite image of the unknown Talon freighter being brought about the tanker they were supposed to meet up with. The recorded imagery showed how large arms connected with Talon's swimming base while a few people did something to fasten them before they left deck. The infrared image revealed that no one was on deck. For almost the last two hours no one had been on deck.
Truth be told, Oxton wasn't really watching. She stared through it like the image wasn't even there. Her mind had wandered off to dark places a while ago; places showing her what Talon most likely did to her best friend right in this moment. Her guts turned upside down as she remembered how brutally cruel and ruthless Talon was when they modified Amélie. How they treated her. The feeling of freezing wasn't caused by low temperature in the room, because it was quite toasty. It was caused by almost going crazy with worry. There was not a single person she cared for and didn't have to worry about right now.
Angela was abducted by Talon which, in itself, was more than enough.
But not only that, Tracer also had to leave Amélie behind to go and search for her best friend. A part of her wanted to smack herself for doing so. She could have taken her with her. Screw everything. Widow could have hidden in her London apartment. No one would have noticed. But no, Tracer didn't think about that at the time. And now Widowmaker was out there again doing God knows what, getting herself in danger, simply by being with Talon.
Tracer's heart hurt just by thinking about it. What if Talon somehow found out? What if they would punish Amélie? What if they'd reset her memory again? Would Tracer be able to bring her back another time?
God she was so scared of what was to come. So many variables. So many possibilities. Tracer just wanted this day to be over. She wanted her best friend back and she wanted to know her lover was safe. That was hardly asking for too much, was it?
It shouldn't have been this way in the first place.
Tracer should have done so many things different. If she just hadn't allowed Widow to leave her in the belfry in London in the first place, then she would maybe have stayed with her. And then Amélie wouldn't have been sent to Numbani to deal with the major, which meant that Tracer wouldn't have went either. And then she could have accompanied Angela to Zürich together with Fareeha. And then Angela would maybe still be here. She would be safe and Talon wouldn't have gotten her.
It was all Tracer's fault! All her fault. If she just had-
"Tracer?" Zarya's voice echoed in her mind, and Lena raised her head to look at the Russian woman.
"Mh?" she murmured while Zarya stared at her. Lena had dark circles around her bloodshot eyes, her skin was pale, and the otherwise radiant freckles on her cheeks toned down to dark marks. She looked twenty years older than she actually was; like a walking corpse. A blind man could have seen the worry and concern written all over her face, how all life had left Tracer's eyes and how her dry lips hadn't smiled in a long time. She had some badly healed bruises along her neck and up to her ear which had taken a very unhealthy deep purple color, contrasting the paleness of her skin in a very grotesque manner. Tracer looked like she was close to collapsing any moment now.
"When was the last time you slept?" Zarya asked. "You look-"
"Like shit, yes. Thank you. I get it. The jokes start to get old." Tracer grumbled.
"Seriously, how long have you been up?"
Tracer checked a watch behind her, tilting her head and cracking some of her bones in the process "Ugh." she sighed "Around 30 hours by now" Lena admitted, and had to agree that the weight pulling on her eyelids was becoming heavier by the second and more and more unbearable.
"You need to rest" Zarya said with a pressing tone, but Tracer shook her head in disagreement. There was no way she'd take a cat-nap while Mercy was in such grave danger! And also not while Amélie was out there somewhere, playing a dangerous game of hide and seek with Talon. In the back of Tracer's mind she had that nagging fear that Talon somehow found out about them. What would they do to Widow? If she could just rescue her lover like Tracer was doing for her best friend right now.
"We have no time for that. There is still a lot to do and I surely won't take a nap while my friends are in danger!" Lena blurted, her eyes growing wide for a second as she awkwardly scratched her head.
Fuck!
Zarya rose an eyebrow when she heard Tracer use a plural where none should have been, but then again, her English wasn't so good. She might have misunderstood. Or she could assume it was caused by Tracer's exhaustion. Either way, now was hardly the time to discuss grammatical details.
"We got it; you can close your eyes for a few minutes. Take a rest" Zarya insisted.
"It's ok, I'll just take a stim" Tracer shrugged, but was glared upon by her Russian comrade.
"Tracer-"
"I said, I'll take a stim later." Lena sneered. She was in a horrible mood with so much going on. The last thing she wanted was someone being concerned for her. She was fine. Tired, yes. But fine. No one was brainwashing her. No one was torturing her. No one was cutting her back open to stuff tech inside her body, and no one was resetting her memory with toxic chemicals either. Tracer was doing great. There were people in much direr need of their help than she was.
"Did you have one already today?" McCree asked from the other side of the room. He apparently overheard their little exchange from a safe distance.
"No" Tracer replied, shaking her head. She was telling the truth. It had been months since she had to take the last one.
"Good. Then at least take one now" Zarya said, leaning over the table and shuffling through the few things that were still left inside one of the kitbags they had brought along. She retrieved a long aluminum tube, maybe the size of a small torch, which she pressed into Tracer's hand.
The Brit glanced around in the room and noticed that all eyes were on her. Zarya looked worried, as did McCree. And if Tracer could have seen Genji's eyes behind his helmet, she was certain he would have looked just as concerned. "Fine" she sighed and rolled her eyes, but complied.
Yeah, yeah, she got it. They were all looking out for Overwatch's ray of sunshine.
Stupid.
Lena shook the tube a couple of times with a metallic rattle before rolling up the sleeve of her jacket.
"What did you need anyway? I hope you didn't just come to check on me" Lena muttered, pulling the cap off the silver tube and revealing a long, thin needle behind it. Staring at the sharp tip for a moment, she slammed it into her arm and pressed the button on the top of the cylinder. A sizzling sound emitted from the unit, and Tracer started to feel like she just had a couple hours worth of deep, refreshing sleep, a nice hot shower, and a few good meals. Weren't stims a wonderful invention?
They weren't.
Sure, they were useful in the field, because they made worn out, exhausted soldiers ready for battle in a matter of minutes. Quick and easy pick-me-ups. But they surely weren't wonderful. Use more than two in a short period of time and you could have used a bullet instead. They were dangerous.
"Njet. I didn't just want to check on you." Zarya replied "Headquarters just identified the freighter and sent us the blueprints" she continued, waiting for Tracer to set the now empty stim-injector aside before she passed her a datapad with information.
"What did they find out?" Tracer asked, turning the pad in her hands twice simply because she thought it was upside down in the beginning. Which it wasn't. Maybe the effects of the stim still needed a bit to fully spread into her body.
"Everything we need. Formerly registered as the MSC Rifaya, launching took place in early 2019, the ship has been run by the Mediterranean Shipping Company until late 2047. Then it was bought by a company called 'Clockwork International', the same one which is running the tanker. The freighter was allegedly lost during an accident not a month after they purchased it. But it is clear from the configuration that this is indeed the Rifaya, despite not being registered anywhere. All identification transmitters have been shut off. It's a ghost ship"
Tracer nodded, skimming over the blueprints, her eyes wide and clearly not happy as to what she had to see. These blueprints showed a swimming colossus made of steel. "Pegasus class containership. 1305 foot long, 197 foot wide, 98 foot tall without structures." Lena let the pad drop to the table in front of her. "How the hell are we supposed to find Angela in that steel monstrosity? Her signal says she is somewhere in the front, but she could be literally anywhere there. How the hell are we even supposed to get inside in the first place? You can't jump a hundred feet into the air and land on top, and we have no pneumatic rope-launchers either." They had ropes though, which weren't any help.
McCree, who had set his umpteenth cigar aside to devour a bowl of soup, leaned forward in the creaky old chair he chose to sit in opposite to Tracer and snatched the datapad, scrolling through the countless documents of blueprints it contained. He had spotted the freighter docking with the tanker a few miles off shore and took a couple of photos for HQ before he returned back inside. To him the hot soup was a present from heaven as he basically inhaled the spicy liquid. That definitely made his frozen bones thaw. "We have plasma-cutters, don't we?"
"Indeed, we do" Genji replied, spotting a pair of said cutters somewhere on the table.
"There is a maintenance hatch at the backside. It is rather low, barely above sea-level. We get a boat, bring it in position, and cut the door open. From then on..."
"Mercy's signal is accurate to 25 meters, so we at least have an approximate idea where she might be. In that area we have no other choice than to search room for room, deck for deck. Preferably without being spotted" Tracer said. She had a very bad feeling about this. Something told her this mission would be an utter disaster. Like... an epic disaster. "I don't like this. We have to get through the entire ship without anyone noticing us and back as well."
"We are left with no other choice. We knew it would be difficult" Zarya said.
"Yes, difficult, I agree. But this feels close to impossible. I want to get my best friend back, not get her and anyone else killed... or worse" Lena said more to herself than to her comrades. She felt empty inside. The worry was eating her away. God how she hated sitting around and planning stuff. She wanted to jump into action and do something, yet the better part of her knew that it would have been stupid. Things needed to be prepared properly to work out. It was for Angela's best. Lena Oxton knew that. She still wondered why she felt like she was the one torturing Mercy with every moment she was sitting around and wasting her time with thinking.
"Would it be a reasonable approach to not board the freighter by means of ships but maybe utilizing a shuttle?" Genji suggested. "This way we could go on board at the front, search for Dr. Ziegler, and leave the same way we came."
"I like the idea" Zarya said, but Jesse shook his head, pushing some buttons on a mobile console which suddenly displayed a large holographic projection of Talons swimming base above the table.
"Headquarters said they spotted multiple automated anti-aircraft guns and various rocket launch platforms on deck. So, unless you want to be blown to bits, I'd rather use the boat."
"Any signs of torpedo-platforms?" Zarya wanted to know.
"None. The rockets are multipurpose, but if we get a small boat, they shouldn't be able to get a lock on." McCree replied.
"Then we are left with no other choice. We have to pass the entire length of the ship twice" the Russian weightlifter stated.
"That might not necessarily be the case. Should we choose to leave someone with the boat, we could proceed through the inside of the freighter while the person entrusted with the boat can head around and pick us up at the front." Genji suggested "This way, we wouldn't be required to proceed through the ship twice without being noticed."
"How do we get down to our cockleshell? Which we, by the way, still have to somehow acquire." Tracer asked.
"Jump?" McCree suggested, causing Zarya to snort.
"You'd be dead before you reach the boat, cowboy. The water is barely not freezing. You have three minutes in it, at the most, before your body goes into cold shock. If your body can't maintain basic muscle function, you can't keep yourself above water anymore and, before long, you lose consciousness and drown." Zarya explained. She grew up in the cruel winters of Russia. Knowing what the cold did to your body was her survival-guarantee. "And that is for someone unharmed and healthy. We have no idea in which condition Dr. Ziegler will be. I doubt she will be in any way fit for swimming in ice water."
Genji cleared his throat "Also, I am unable to swim. My cybernetic body prevents me from doing so. It is too heavy. I'd drown"
"You could pilot the boat" McCree shrugged.
"Still doesn't solve the problem of what we do if Mercy is in no condition to swim" Tracer groaned. "It's not like we could just drop her onto the boat. And I doubt carrying her would reliably work. We don't even know if she is conscious" We don't even know if she still wants to come with us. Tracer shuddered at the thought, knowing full well what Talon could do to someone's mind. She learned that quickly with Amélie. Lena chose not to voice that particular thought. The mere idea of having to knock out her best friend to rescue her was sickening. And Tracer had no idea if the strategy she used with Widowmaker would work with Angela as well. Their connection was never romantic; it was just...a very good friendship. Nothing more.
"Rope sling?" McCree tossed into the room.
"Too windy" Tracer replied. They'd never hit the boat with someone swinging back and forth in the winds like a pendulum.
"We could get to sea level and blow a hole in the outer wall. Once we make a run for it, it doesn't matter how much attention we attract. We have enough explosives" Zarya suggested.
"We may risk igniting the tanker" Genji provided.
"If we blow the far off side, we should be good, I guess" Tracer said "We have to take some risks."
"Do we all agree on this then?" McCree wanted to know, getting nods from everyone.
"Alright. Let's get to it then. Check your gear and pack up all the explosives and charges. And don't forget to bring Mercy's staff along. We might really need that thing. Zarya, you and I will head out in half an hour and try to procure a boat."
"Are you talking about stealing one?" The Russian weightlifter asked.
"I was more than less thinking about borrowing it" Tracer replied with a shrug. "We are going to meet up here in 90 minutes." Tracer said to Genji and McCree, pointing at a spot inside the port of Diskon.
-/-
Inside the freighter.
Mercy was following Widow through the complicated corridors after the mess hall. They weren't stopped by anyone so far, and Angela started to really believe that Widowmaker's plan could actually work.
"Follow me" Widow said, pushing a door into a large metal staircase open. "We'll head topside now"
"Right behind you" Mercy replied, falling in line behind Widowmaker as she followed the assassin up the stairs made of metal mesh connecting platforms of solid metal surfaces. Angela tried not to look down, because she got the feeling of falling through the stairs, but looking straight ahead wasn't really a good idea either. Mercy stared right at Amélie's perfectly shaped rear, swinging slinkily back and forth with every step she took.
It was a sight to behold.
A sight which made Mercy uncomfortable.
Reallyuncomfortable. Too uncomfortable.
She quickly realized the reason wasn't Widow's latex-wrapped rear. The nausea from before was back as Mercy's world started to spin around her. She desperately grabbed at the handrail to avoid falling down the stairs behind her.
"Angela?" Widow asked as she noticed that Mercy wasn't right behind her anymore. She turned around to see the doctor huddled against the handrail, blinking rapidly and obviously rather sick. Her skin was almost ashen, and she had clear difficulties not falling.
Amélie quickly walked the few steps back and supported Mercy by grabbing her arm, bringing her to the next entresol a few stairs above them. "What's wrong?" Widow wanted to know. The doctor didn't answer, but was instead just gasping for air with her hand tightly grasped around her stomach, her face contorted in pain. Mercy was starting to really scare Amélie when the fine veins from her neck to over her jaw line and up to her temples began to suddenly turn pitch black as if someone poured color into her blood.
Mercy groaned in pain and, as if that wasn't enough already, she suddenly shot forward into the corner of the entresol where she hurled her guts out onto the solid metal surface of the mezzanine. The coughing and choking sound she made alone was enough to make Widow feel sick herself. Mercy's rasped whoops were almost suffocating her.
But the really bad thing was what Widow had to see once she held Angela in place so the doctor wouldn't crash down into her own vomit. She could barely stand at this point.
There was a dark red puddle on the floor, almost black, but clearly red. Blood. And the weirdest thing was that the liquid seemed to move, some kind of metallic hexagonal-pored structure was beginning to form on the surface, quickly solidifying.
"Mon dieu!" Widow gasped.
"It's ok. I am fine" Mercy breathed slowly, wiping her mouth clean with the back of her hand. She carefully tried to stand upright again, catching her breath. Angela knew this would happen sooner or later. She just hoped that they'd get off this damn ship before it did.
"You don't seem fine at all" Amélie replied "This usually doesn't come out of a human."
"I know. I know." Mercy said defensively, feeling an uncomfortable pull inside the side of her face. The prominent dark color of her capillaries was fading away again. "Those are malfunctioning nanoprobes. I pushed too far to withstand Montgomery. Usually my body creates and replaces them in a preordained pace to keep my vital functions in check. But with all the things the probes had to do to fend off the effects of all the things he did to me, together with being influenced by high currents over prolonged periods of time, large portions of my nanoprobes probably got destroyed. My body is getting rid of them before they attack vital organs."
"Vital Organs?" Widowmaker shook her head as if she didn't hear right. "Are you telling me the tech which is keeping you alive could also kill you at any moment?"
"I have no way of knowing for sure. I obviously can't run any diagnostics right now. But vomiting nanoprobes is usually a bad sign. So, yes. I might have made a mistake."
"You might have made a mistake?" Widowmaker sneered, staring at Mercy in disbelieve.
"It's not like I had a choice!" Mercy defended herself. "And the system was never meant to be electrocuted! What were you expecting? It was designed to keep a human body alive and healthy, enhancing survivability in the field, not cancel the effects of excessive torture!"
Widowmaker blinked and felt herself growing a tiny bit angry with Dr. Ziegler. While it was true that she didn't have a choice, Amélie also felt like this was the kind of thing you should tell the person who was risking her life to bust your ass out of trouble. She grabbed Mercy by the shoulders and shook her roughly. "Pute, I didn't get so far only so you can fall victim to your own crazy technology!" Widowmaker hissed. "You don't get to keep things like that to yourself, understood? Spill it now! What can we do so you don't take a dirt nap while we make a run for it?"
"It's fine. Don't worry. I still have a few hours. I will need to synch with my staff soon. It will take care of the error and restructure the malfunctioning probes." Mercy replied, slightly intimidated by Widow, who was holding her in a tight grip. Maybe she really should have told her sooner.
"Great!" Widow rolled her eyes "A few hours. Just great, Mercy. I don't know if you have noticed, but we are in the middle of Russia! Your staff isn't magically going to appear once we make it to the port! And we aren't even off this damn deathtrap yet! I am not going to carry a corpse back to your headquarters!"
"I promise you, I will survive this. Once I contact Lena to pick us up, I tell her she has to bring the staff along. A few hours are more than just two." Mercy said firmly, feeling a lot better now that a large portion of rogue probes were out of her system.
Widow rose an eyebrow.
"Lena is the friend I told you about. The pilot."
"I figured as much" Widow shrugged as if she didn't care at all. "So, are you suddenly going to break down or not?"
"No." Mercy replied. "I should be good for a while. Maybe later my body has to get rid of more probes. As long as I don't start to emit the probes through mucosae, pores, or tear ducts, I should be fine."
Widowmaker shook her head. Great. Just great. In other words, as long as she doesn't start spitting, sweating or crying blood. "I didn't hear that last part." she decided firmly. "Let's get a move on then. Why not add some time pressure to this as well. It isn't fucked up enough as it is already" she said, the last part more to herself than to Angela, as she led the way again.
"You are nervous, aren't you?" Mercy asked, following Amélie and trying not to seem as shaky as she felt. The exhaustion Angela was feeling didn't really help matters either.
"I don't know how to be nervous." Widow replied coolly, which was a total lie. She had been nervous the whole day. "This is the first time I do something for myself, something which has a certain personal importance, you know? Usually I don't care, but this time, it's different." she explained.
"I understand." Mercy said as she stopped right next to Widow in front of a closed door. "You see-"
"Silence." Widow ordered, and Angela immediately shut her mouth. She had promised to do what Widow said, and she would stay true to her word. "We are here. Once we go through that door, we are topside and will have to be perfectly silent. I don't want to draw attention while we steal a dinghy. We will not speak a word anymore, understood?"
Mercy nodded. For a second, she wondered what they would need a boat for, but then she, of course, remembered that they couldn't just swim to the next shore. God knows how far it was away.
"Bien. You turn to your left and walk along the railing until you reach the first dinghy. I will be right behind you. Once we get there I will prepare the boat and you will get on board in the meantime. Compris?"
Mercy nodded again.
"Then, after you, mon général." Widow said, opening the door for Mercy and waiting for her to step through.
The first thing Angela noticed when she walked outside was the pitch black night sea which greeted her with the distinct salty, slightly fishy smell of an ocean accompanied by a relentless ice cold wind. The moon was shining rather brightly, reflecting in the dark waters. It created a beautifully dancing bright dot surrounded by black water. Mercy did as Widow told her and turned to her left following the railing. Under normal circumstances, she would have taken a moment to behold the beauty of nature which lay before her. But nothing about her current situation was anywhere near normal.
The harsh wind was almost painfully cold, and right about now Angela was extremely thankful for the long leather coat Widowmaker had procured for her. Mercy shuddered at the thought of not having a coat right now as she turned up her collar to block out the relentless wind some more. Heavens, she felt like freezing to death otherwise. Which made Angela wonder: how exactly didn't Widow turn into a frozen statue with that little skin-tight nothing she was wearing?
Mercy didn't get to think about an answer for that question as she reached the dinghy Widow had been talking about. It was held by two large metal cranes which would lift the boat above the water and slowly lower it down to the surface once they were needed. As instructed, she waited right next to the small ship. A few moments later, the blue-skinned woman walked past her, heading straight for a small console in front of one of crane's arms, apparently to activate the procedure, which would land the boat on water.
Luckily there was no one about to be seen, and the area around the small boat was occupied by different cargo-boxes providing rather good protection from prying eyes.
Moving to climb onboard of what seemed to be a tiny speedboat, Mercy felt a strange kind of shiver run down her spine. It wasn't from the ice cold wind.
It was something else. Like a gush of wind that should not have been there. It was a gentle waft and the sudden smell of gunpowder.
They weren't as alone as Angela thought they were.
All Mercy saw before strong arms grabbed her was a cloud of black smoke drift past. She gasped loudly and wanted to scream, but someone roughly pressed a napkin to her face. It smelled of chemicals.
The last thing Mercy saw was how Widowmaker spun around with a startled expression on her face. An expression that quickly turned into rage.
"You!" her French savior hissed glaring at the person holding Mercy in a tight headlock.
Angela tired not to breath, reaching inside her coat for the gun Widowmaker gave her. Mercy's fingers were numb from the cold, but she felt the hard metal slide into her hand. The pressure on her lungs was getting painful as she drew the pistol from her coat. Mercy tried to somehow turn it against the person holding her, but whoever was holding her hostage suddenly punched her in the sides. She gasped as the same clawed hand smacked the pistol out of her fingers and over board. The blow to her sides caused Mercy to involuntarily take a deep breath.
The sharp stench of chemicals filled her nostrils.
Chloroform.
And Mercy's world turned dark.
-/-
A/N:
Alright people that's it for today. Longest chapter so far.
Thank you everyone for all the reviews, favorites and follows you grace me with! I cannot tell you how happy you all make me! It's so amazing! Keep it up guys, I love you all :)
Special thanks to the three angels once again! You guys are (still) the best!
It would be amazing if you could tell me what you think about this one.
Also, I wanted to ask you: Do you like the translations in the running text like [this] better than at the end? I kind of feel like it is disturbing the flow, but whatever you guys like better. I just tried it out here.
Oh, yes, one more thing, the next chapter will conclude this arc, but it is also stupidly long already (~ 17k words if I remember correctly) Would you want to have it in one huge chapter, which will probably take longer to publish, since it has to go through EhMattissimo's test of approval first, or would you prefer it split into two shorter chapters, which will be out sooner, but also split the completion of this arc in two chapters?
At the moment I planned it as two chapters, because I kind of don't want to torture my Beta with such huge dumps of text.
Anyway, thank you all again for your support!
I will see you in the next one :)
o7
E82
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Translations:
Pute (French) Bitch