Russia, near St. Petersburg, mechanized defense platform production plant, Volskaya Industries, 1218 hours.
"Lady Volskaya? Is there anything else you need?" an attendant asked as the CEO of Volskaya Industries sat down behind the desk in her large and luxurious office. The whole room was more meant to be representative than strictly speaking practical, but the strong-willed matriarch leading the most advanced mech-production plant in the world liked her office nevertheless. The large relievo behind her desk testified day after day what hardships and struggles the Russian people had to endure during the Omnic wars, and served as a good reminder for why Katja Volskaya was doing what she was doing. She had a burning passion for protecting her people, and was absolutely willing to go to great lengths to ensure their safety.
The end justifies the means.
It was the way her father handled things. The way his father did and the father before him. Her whole family had always been like this. It was their legacy. They were the protectors of Russia.
Maybe Katja went too far sometimes; was too eager, too keen on progress and advancement. Maybe if she had been more careful she wouldn't have overstepped the mark. Then, maybe, she wouldn't have a certain amiga to worry about now.
Even though it was more than a year ago, the mere thought about the day she faced the business end of a machine-pistol and thought she would die still sent a shudder down her spine. It may not have cost Katja her life, but now she was at a complete stranger's mercy.
Katja Volskaya naturally didn't like that for even a moment. She would have done anything to get rid of her new 'friend'. But her hands were tied.
Lady Volskaya shook her head in resignation, noticing that her loyal attendant was still waiting for her to answer his inquiry. The poor soul often didn't have it easy with his employer.
"Thank you, Vitaly. That will be all." she said with a professionally executed friendly nod while she got comfortable in her leather chair. She had some serious work ahead of her; work she wasn't necessarily looking forward to. It had to be done.
She watched with a sigh as her attendant acknowledged his dismissal, turned around, and left her office without a further word. The door whirred shut and clicked audibly, the lock obviously snapping into place.
That made Katja frown. Why was the door locked?
Someone cleared his throat, which made the woman jump in her seat and spin around toward the direction of the sound. She should be alone in here!
"Not that easy to get a hold of you, Lady Volskaya." a male voice suddenly said.
She wasn't alone.
Katja's shock seeped into her bones, freezing her in place and making it impossible for her to move even an inch. She was immediately reminded of the last time something similar happened. The panic and fear she experienced then. On the day she met her new 'friend' when someone sent an assassin to kill her. By some sort of cosmic miracle, the sniper tasked to eliminate her had missed her shot. Later, the CEO found out just who it was training a gun on her. It indeed was a miracle that she was still alive. After the failed attempt to shoot her, Lady Volskaya had been quickly escorted to her office. But she wasn't alone in the room back then either.
It had been the first time in Katja Volskaya's life that someone blackmailed her into friendship. Yeah, right, 'friendship'. That's what the Latina blackmailing her had called it. She needed a favor at some point. Up until now, Katja didn't hear from the woman who threatened to make Volsaka Industries' relation to the Omnics public.
And she apparently wasn't hearing from her now, because if that would have been the case, her voice surely wouldn't have suddenly dropped one or two octaves.
"Who are you? What do you want?" Katja asked and tried to not sound as terrified as she felt. She thought that she did a good job with that.
Out of a dark corner of her office, a man stepped forward, wearing a blue, white, and red leather jacket and a mask hiding his face behind grey steel and a red visor. He was carrying a huge and intimidating pulse-rifle across his back as he slowly walked toward the desk, casually taking his time like a predator circling his prey.
"My name is not important for now." He said "What I'm here for, however, is."
Katja swallowed hard, folding her hands on top of her desk just to stop them from trembling. She really didn't want to ask the next question because, out of experience, it usually was answered the same way. There was a reason why she had basically a private army to protect her. The fact that this man even got this far was almost an answer in itself.
"And what might that be?" she forced herself to inquire, a voice in the back of her head asking why she still didn't have a gun in her office.
The mystery man chuckled. "Well, not what you think now. I'm not here to kill you, if you're worried about that."
Lady Volskaya was taken aback. She did not expect that. "No?"
"No. I wouldn't be here if I wanted you dead. There are easier ways to do that." he stated matter-of-factly. He gestured toward one of the chairs standing in front of Katja's desk. "Do you mind?" he asked. Volskaya shook her head and the intruder seated himself.
He took a moment to give the young CEO a once over. She definitely was a strong, independent woman, so much was sure. Then again, she always had been. She did what it took to protect her country, and that was a big plus in Jack Morrison's book. She was one of those people who strongly believed that the end always justified the means.
And, while practical and definitely result-bearing, it was also a dangerous attitude to have. Morrison knew that from experience. Everything had its price, and sooner or later, everyone had to pay up.
"Thirteen months ago you were blackmailed by a Mexican woman known as Sombra, is that correct?" Morrison asked.
Katja perked her eyebrows up and actually had to force herself to swallow the groan forming in her throat. How did this man know about this? She never told anyone. Not even her most trusted advisors, and surely not her family. Not her precious daughter, obviously, but also not her husband whom she loved more than anything. There was no one present in her office when Sombra talked to her. So how?
"What do you know about that?" Katja asked with serious interest. This wasn't like the last time someone had locked her in her own office and told her they weren't here to kill her. Sombra had been intimidating in her own sense. She seemed light-hearted and a bit funky, yet radiated a certain uncontrollable danger... which wasn't the way she was waving her SMG around like it was a toy, it was something else. Something more serious. This new stranger was surely not to be taken lightly in any way either, but so far he had yet to do something really intimidating…like point his rifle in her face.
Morrison reached in his pocket and placed a small device on the desk in between Volskaya and him. He pressed the only button on the silver box with such detestation like the small apparatus had somehow personally offended him in a way.
"Ok, listen... I'm here to make a friend. And show you something I found. Tell me... what would happen if the people of Russia learned that their defender against the Omnics was actually... getting their tech from the enemy? What would that do to the future of Russia?" Sombra's recorded voice sounded out of the small recording device. Volskaya frowned heavily. Where did that come from? How was their conversation recorded? It had to be impossible. Yet, she was listening to the proof that it was not.
"What... do you want?" Katja's own voice asked from the device. This is just not possible. How was this recorded?
"The most powerful woman in Russia? I've always wanted a friend like that. Soooo, I'm thinking. I don't let these images appear on every holovid in the world... and you help out your new friend every now and then..." Noise and voices in the background caused Sombra to pause for a second before she continued "Clock's ticking... amiga." Morrison reached for the device and turned it off again, not being any gentler with it.
"I'd say I know everything" he stated, putting the device back in his pocket again. It was true. He knew everything thanks to Reaper who procured that audio file for him. For an elite hacker, Sombra sure was careless at times. Taking out her communication-earpiece didn't mean the thing wasn't transmitting anymore. It was a stupid mistake, but one that allowed Reaper and Morrison to achieve their goal maybe a little bit faster.
"What do you want?" Katja asked, this time not recorded, but for real. She had to admit that she felt more at ease with a stranger surprising her in her office this time around. Be that because she was used to it by now or because this time she didn't have a gun pointed into her face was up to discussion at a later point in time.
"Oh, something pretty small, actually" Morrison said, reaching into his chest pocket and retrieving a simple white business card. He placed it in front of Lady Volskaya, who took it in her hand. It had nothing on it but a single phone number. "We are rather certain that your Mexican friend will contact you within the next few weeks or months. All I want you to do is to dial that number once that happens. Tell them what Sombra told you, what she wanted, where she was going to be, possible meeting places. Everything."
"And why would I do that?" Volskaya wanted to know.
"Let me ask a counter question: Do you honestly think that she'll ever leave you alone? Because I promise you: she won't. You'll have to submit to her will for as long as she has those pictures she's blackmailing you with. Do you want that?"
"Obviously not."
"And do you have a plan to take Sombra's advantage over you away from her?"
Volskaya nervously rubbed her thumbs together, because truth to be told, she didn't have such a plan. At least, none which would have worked in any way. She slowly shook her head.
"Didn't think so. But my organization does. If she contacts you, you contact us."
"And how would that help?"
"Let's just say that Sombra won't bother you again if you help us. Nor will she bother your family. Also, you will get the compromising files she used to blackmail you; we have no use for those. I'm aware that doesn't mean much coming from a masked stranger you don't know, but I can assure you that my organization always stays true to their word. No exceptions. So, in a way, we are offering you help in solving a problem of which I know is causing you sleepless nights. How does that sound to you, Lady Volskaya?"
She hesitated for a moment. Deep down, she knew what won't bother you again really meant, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She had a daughter and a family to look after. The masked stranger was absolutely right. Ever since Sombra burst into her life and indirectly threatened the safety of her little girl, she hardly slept at night. She doubt that he meant it in such a literal way.
Yet something wasn't right about this whole deal. Something was off.
"Am I trading one evil for another?" she wanted to know very carefully.
Behind his mask, Morrison rolled his eyes. He hated stubborn people. But if he was honest with himself, he wouldn't have trusted a masked man either. The way he was, Morrison was a complete stranger; a mystery man. He could have been anyone and everyone.
After hesitating for a moment, he stood up from his chair and leaned over Katja's desk, reaching for his mask with one hand. Pulling it off, he looked her straight in the eyes and couldn't suppress a one sided smirk when he saw her swallow heavily.
"You... Commander, you are supposed to be-"
"Dead? Didn't take" he shrugged, suddenly Reaper's words seeming rather fitting.
"But-"
"No buts, Katja" Morrison told her firmly, putting his mask back on. A long silence was spreading in the office while Volskaya apparently had to process what was just revealed to her. She remembered Jack Morrison from her childhood. Her father often had much to do with Overwatch when it was still running in all its former glory. Back in the day, Morrison was the shining hero at the top of the organization. Katja might have had a silly girl crush on him when she was a child, but that was a long time ago. When she grew up, she admired his charisma and authority, and promised herself that she'd try to be like him one day; a determined and strong willed, unwavering leader like he was.
It wasn't a bright day in her life when Katja heard that Jack Morrison was killed in an explosion at the Overwatch headquarters in Zürich.
"You will hear from me once the time comes." Katja finally said, taking the card and putting it in her pocket.
"Good" Morrison nodded "Thank you for your cooperation" he said, getting up from his chair and walking to the door. "Have a pleasant day, Lady Volskaya."
"Wait, that door is-" Heavily guarded.
"Oh, don't trouble yourself. I came in that way." Morrison replied with a careless shrug, and simply left through the front door like he was allowed to do so.
Katja Volskaya was left behind, completely baffled.
-/-
Watchpoint Gibraltar, outdoor area, late afternoon
Dark clouds were starting to obscure the formerly bright blue sky. The ambiance was quickly getting heavy, loaded with electricity. The dry air was growing increasingly muggy. There was a storm building and everyone could feel, see, and smell it. The heat of the past days was finally seeking its relief in the form of a heat thunderstorm. Nature was yearning for water, the plants along the beautiful footpath around the Watchpoint were starting to dry out and the grass had lost its lush green color days ago. The wind was gently picking up a bit of speed, and the temperature was slowly beginning to drop. Finally.
Amélie, Lena, and Angela were sitting on a wooden bench, facing the ocean. A gentle breeze brushed through the three ladies' hair, letting it sway back and forth softly with every small gush of chilly air. Amélie was sitting in the middle, with Lena to her left and Angela to her right. They saw the shadows of the heavy downpour falling to earth far afield above the ocean. The storm was coming closer, but they still had time; important time to talk about even more important matters.
Mercy decided to address these issues somewhere outside; not in her office space in the sickbay. She had talked to her colleague, Dr. Laguardia, about the little problem he ran into while trying to work with Widowmaker. The story was hardly surprising to Mercy, who knew that, despite Amélie being a legitimate badass, Talon's 'treatment' had to have left scars. It would have on anybody. They made her the badass she was now. Before, Amélie had just been a regular woman. They would have to go back to the infirmary soon enough, so Mercy thought it might be a good idea to have their talk outside…even if the weather could have been better.
Angela could imagine that her new friend's problems only surfaced once she realized that she got away. That she made it. She escaped Talon. When she still had been under their total control, her mind and body held in the tight grip of Talon's iron fist, Amélie herself might not even have noticed how deep the scars she was suffering really were. She let it all happen, numb to the pain it caused her, blind to her own fears, all overshadowed by the knowledge of what would happen if she stepped out of line, or blurred by being made to forget.
No. Angela understood why this was a problem. She understood why Amélie had such difficulties walking inside something reminiscent of a hospital or a laboratory. Hell, she herself had severe problems taking the cold showers she had loved so much because of what Talon did to her, and she had only been in their hands for a few days.
"I screwed up, non?" Amélie stated after a while when they just kind of silently sat on the bench. Lena was holding her hand discretely, so that no one who would randomly walk by could see.
"No" Angela replied firmly. "No, you did not screw up. You did nothing wrong, ok?"
"I almost killed the doctor, and..." Widowmaker fell silent.
"Oy, that's not your fault, alright luv? I mean it's not something you wanted to do, right?"
"I..." Widow choked, because she really wasn't sure. A part of her wanted to do it. She wanted to go for the kill, drive the pen into Laguardia's throat, and choke Tracer to death. A part of her always whispered murderous ideas into her ears.
"Don't torture yourself because of it, Amélie. What happened in the sickbay was nothing medicine couldn't explain, and Dr. Laguardia knows that just as well as I do. I want to talk to you about what is going to happen from here on. Don't worry, it's nothing bad" Mercy smiled supportively before she added "Though I suppose it could be better."
"You talked to Morrison yet?" Tracer wanted to know.
"I did. He got a preliminary report from Dr. Laguardia and followed his recommendations." Angela took a deep breath. "For the next three months you are under my supervision, Amélie. Which means you basically have to follow me around. I know this isn't ideal and definitely not what you wanted, but I-"
"It's fine" Amélie stated, exchanging a quick glance with Lena.
"Don't worry. I'll make sure you two get enough time together." Mercy reassured. "I'll work something out. Besides, I'm sure I can loosen Morrison's regulations over time. He just needs to see that you are trustworthy. So, it might not be the full three months after all."
Widowmaker nodded slowly. Truth to be told, she didn't care. She got away from Talon and she was close to Lena. She had everything she ever wanted, so if she had to follow Mercy around all day, so be it. There were worse fates. The Swiss doctor was a nice woman and someone Amélie actually trusted. She stood up for Amélie in Diskon, defending her against the accusations of the Overwatch search party. That made her a... friend, maybe, if that was what friendship was supposed to be. Widow had no way of knowing.
"But she can't stay with you all day long, can she?" Lena asked "I mean, she has to sleep somewhere, right?"
Angela inhaled sharply "That's the problem. Morrison expects results. I need to run some samples and, well, I have to keep you at the sickbay for a week or two." It was easy to pick up how uncomfortable Mercy was with this herself. But she had little choice. Her discussion with the Overwatch commander made it rather clear what he expected from her. Mercy's hands were tied, and she had little options in the matter. "I know this is not ideal for you. I know that, and if there could be a different solution to this I'd take it. But there isn't. If it helps, I'll always be there and, if you want to, Lena can also stay."
Amélie registered the words, but didn't respond. She just stared blankly at the horizon, the heavy rain slowly coming closer and closer toward them.
"Amélie?" Lena's soft voice asked, her thumb stroking fondly over the back of Widow's cold hand.
"You know I never wanted to hurt you, chérie?" she suddenly asked.
"Of course I do. Hey, don't worry! It's just you, Angela, and me. I'm sure you won't freak out again. It's just a room; nothing wrong with it. Nothing bad will happen to you, innit right, Angela?"
"Natürlich nicht. I'll be very careful." Angela replied, and sounded like she was actually a tiny bit offended by the implications. She was a doctor for crying out loud. Her whole life she had dedicated to helping people. She would never hurt someone who didn't deserve it intentionally. Yet, those who did deserve it... but that wasn't Amélie. She didn't deserve any part of what happened.
Widowmaker nodded after a moment. She always had such a tight grip of herself, knowing exactly what she was doing and how. Losing control like she did the last time was nothing she enjoyed. And to think that she almost hurt the love of her life again because of it made her sick. It made her doubt her ability to stay in control of her very own mind. It made her feel fragile, and Widowmaker hated feeling fragile. She wasn't fragile. She never was. When she was still with Talon, she kept an iron grip on her mind because, not only did she know what would happen if she didn't, she was also numbed down far enough to simply function the way she was intended. There was no trust involved. There was no mutual respect between her and the scientists. None.
That was different now. Her body was slowly becoming hers again. The dense fog in her mind had started clearing out a while ago and she was steadily able to see things for what they really were again. Amélie was getting a, however slim, sense of self back. She knew Angela. She trusted her, and not only because Lena trusted her (which admittedly played a big part). The Swiss doctor had Amélie's wellbeing in mind when she caught her in bed with Tracer, and she respected their wish to keep it a secret.
This wasn't Talon.
There were at least two good people here. Two people Amélie felt like she could trust unconditionally.
If self preservation had been enough motivation to keep calm at Talon, then surely trusting her friends would be more than enough here. If they said everything was fine, everything was god damn fine. Lena was always right about those things. When she said Amélie didn't need to worry, she didn't need to worry. Period.
"Then what are we waiting for?" Widow asked.
"You sure?" Tracer asked with a slight frown.
"I told you before and I meant it" Amélie said plainly, "I trust you. What you say counts."
Mercy didn't add anything, but she thought what she just witnessed was both terribly cute and also a tiny bit scary. There was this unwavering loyalty in Widow's voice. It was that utter determination. Angela was sure that Lena didn't even notice herself, but she was certain that Amélie would simply do whatever Tracer told her without second guessing it and no matter what it was. And that was a bit scary.
"Alright, then let's go before we get an involuntary cold shower." she said, getting up from the bench and straightening her white coat with a few brushes of her hands. Angela still was unable to take her beloved cold showers. Attempting to do so brought with them events the kind doctor didn't want to relive again.
The storm was getting closer, the wind already chilly and the remaining light was growing rather dark, yet Angela was still able to make out a form in the distance waving her to come over. "You two go inside. I'll be right with you. I just need to take care of something real quick, ja?"
"Sure thing, luv." Tracer shrugged and took Amélie with her. Mercy watched them for a moment. She watched how they held hands and walked back inside. Lena, despite being smaller, held Amélie close, like she was protecting her.
Mercy turned around and walked in the direction she was called to moments prior. After a few steps, she saw Genji standing on the footway with an Omnic gracefully levitating next to him, his mechanic fingers folded together in his lap. It was an older model, which had obviously seen a lot of action in its lifetime, but nevertheless, the Omnic emitted a peaceful sense of tranquility.
"Ah, Dr. Ziegler. Thanks for joining us. I didn't want to disturb your conversation." Genji said courteously, not hiding some excitement in his voice.
"Of course, Genji" Mercy replied with a small smile "What can I do for you?" she wanted to know, nodding to the Omnic as form of greeting him.
"I wanted to introduce you to my spiritual mentor. This is Zenyatta. I was able to convince Commander Morrison to let him join our cause and I wanted him to meet the woman who saved my life" Genji explained "Master, this is Dr. Angela Ziegler. She developed and constructed my cybernetic body and allowed me to live on."
The omnic made an artificial noise reminiscent of maybe a soft hum. It actually sounded quite endearing. "It is a true pleasure to meet the woman who saved my brightest pupil's life." The artificial voice of Zenyatta was friendly and calm. From the first moment Angela heard him speak, she knew why Genji had accepted the Omnic as his mentor. Wisdom and sereneness were so apparent in this Omnic simply from the way he spoke.
"The pleasure is mine. I was only able to safe his physical form. From what Genji told me, you were the one who truly saved him." Angela smiled. She was well aware of Genji's trouble after she had completed her work on him. How he felt like an outcast and an abomination. How he was too human to be a machine, but too little to be entirely human either. He was too much of both, but neither of which, and it was tearing him apart. After he had completed the task Angela had reconstructed him for, he was restless. He had wandered around aimlessly in search of something he once had, but somehow lost.
Zenyatta was able to give it back to him. He brought peace into his soul and allowed him to come to terms with who he once was and who he had become. Following Zenyatta's teaching, Genji was able to accept his own nature and subsequently became a different man. He was in balance with himself ever since.
"The one cannot be without the other" Zenyatta said, folding his hands differently. It was intriguing to watch how he was able to re-position his hands so fast without breaking a finger.
"That is true" Angela nodded "So, you are going to stay with us for longer?"
"That was the idea, indeed" Zenyatta replied "My young apprentice told me you could use all support you can get, and I strongly believe in helping those in need. Fighting a just cause is always a reason to stand up and stand for what one believes in."
"Have you met the Commander yet?" Mercy asked.
"That is yet to happen."
"We should go there soon, Master. Commander Morrison has a lot to do." Genji said.
"Then we should let him wait no longer" Zenyatta bowed to Mercy "It was a pleasure talking to you, Dr. Ziegler."
"My door is always open should you need something" Angela smiled "Oh, yes. And just a quick tip: Stay clear of Torbjörn for a while. He doesn't get along with Omnics very well... and neither does Zarya, come to think of it. Give them some time to adjust and I'm sure they'll come around."
"Your advice is appreciated. I will be careful."
-/-
"You know, I was never really afraid of anything" Amélie told Lena, the two of them standing in front of the closed doors leading into the infirmary. She snorted a short laugh, "Except for spiders when I was still young..." Widowmaker paused for a long moment, as if something suddenly reminded her of an oddity. "Don't ask me why I remember this..."
Tracer looked at her girlfriend in a funny way, tilting her head sideways "You were afraid of spiders?" she asked, definitely not entirely convinced. Widowmaker was telling her she had been afraid of spiders. Easy to spot what's wrong there, yes? Definitely not what she expected.
"Oui. Strange, isn't it?" Amélie smiled weakly. She faintly, in a distant corner of her mind, remembered a moment of her childhood. A spider she thought was monstrous at the time had been sitting on the wall above her bed. Little Amélie was terrified and ran to her mother for help. She remembered the spider vividly, sitting there on the wall at the edge of a shadow, staring at her like she was her prey. Large and black, with menacing dark hairs all over its predatory body and long, thick legs. She could remember the large spider's intimidating pedipalps moving, like it was devouring something. All those memories were etched into Amélie's mind. Yet, she couldn't remember her mother's face for the life of her.
"Well, considering you have a spider tattooed onto your back. Yeah, a little strange, indeed." Lena giggled, and her girlfriend joined for a moment before she became dead-serious again. She was strangely silent for a bit, and Tracer just waited for her girlfriend to speak up again. It was one of those special silences; heavy but uncomfortable in a way.
Lena knew by now that these pauses were usually followed by something from Amélie's past she didn't particularly like to remember. It was best to just say nothing and let her figure out how and what she wanted to say. Widow always told Lena what was occupying her mind…it sometimes just took a moment or two for her to sort through her hazy and confusing thoughts and memories. Lena knew that. She understood.
Amélie looked straight ahead at the orange door leading into the infirmary, like it provided some kind of help for speaking up again.
It didn't.
And while Lena was usually aware that those remnants of Widowmaker's past weren't fun stories, she wasn't really prepared for this.
"They keelhauled me as punishment when I got the tattoo." Amélie stated as if it wasn't a big deal. "I somehow remember being pulled underneath the freighter I was stationed on at the time rather vividly. They chained me up and tossed me into the ocean. I remember being pulled beneath the surface almost immediately. My hands and feet were tightly tied together so I couldn't escape while they slowly pulled me underneath the metal hull." she said shaking her head. She looked over at Lena and decided to not share more of the story. Her girlfriend looked like she was about to cry. The truth was, the sharp Balanidae and Goose barnacles stuck to the freighter's hull tore Widowmaker's naked skin open like knives. If her lungs hadn't been burning from the lack of oxygen, and if she hadn't been certain that she'd drown any moment, the pain from being cut by all those dirty sea shells would have been enough to make her crazy. Miraculously, Widowmaker didn't drown…nor did she go crazy. She woke up weeks later in one of Talon's labs, her body covered with bandages. One of the scientists told her if she ever did something without permission again, they'd do worse.
At least she got to keep the tattoos. This was all that mattered to Amélie.
"They..." Tracer swallowed heavily, not daring do repeat what her lover just said. She let her hand run up Amélie's back, tracing the outlines of the stylized spider on her cool back "Because of a tattoo?"
"It covers the scars they left on me, so it was worth it." Widow shrugged. She enjoyed Lena's fingers on her back. She enjoyed how her light touch was softly brushing over her cold skin. Amélie had to concentrate so she wouldn't start humming. "Eventually, they made it something to recognize me by." She said.
"I'm so sorry" Tracer replied, removing the hand from her lover's back, thinking it might make Amélie uncomfortable. It obviously didn't, but Lena had no idea.
"It's hardly your fault." Amélie actually tried to laugh. "You always seemed to like it." she added a little sheepishly. Often, when they were together in bed after they had their fun and were simply talking about anything and everything, Lena would stare at the ink on her skin for hours while Widow was lying on her stomach. She let her girlfriend's eyes wander over her for as long as she wanted, willingly brushing her hair out of the way so Lena could get a better look. Amélie would only ever do this for Lena. She was the only one allowed to stare. It was a strange feeling, being watched like this, the intensity, the heat she felt on her body, but Amélie somehow enjoyed it greatly. Simply because it was Tracer looking at her like this; like she was the most beautiful woman in the world. Not a fascinating walking weapon, not a science project, and not something to merely lust after. Nothing but a real human being with emotions, and fears, and all that. Tracer was the only one who ever respected Amélie fully like she was. Lena had always been there for her unconditionally, never expecting anything from her in return, and never trying to force her to do anything. That same woman liked looking at her, telling her how pretty and special she was, and it felt great whenever such words left Tracer's mouth. Widowmaker never understood why people thought she was beautiful. She never thought so herself. But Lena obviously did. That made it special and something to hold on to.
"It's awesome" Lena confirmed silently. Suddenly, it didn't feel appropriate to think so anymore. The beautiful mark on Amélie's body suddenly turned into something painful and something bad.
"I'm glad you like it, chérie. Because I thinks it's quite nice myself." Amélie said and sounded relieved of something. Maybe it was alright to like the tattoo after all? Lena just wanted to say something when Amélie took a deep breath and opened the door into the sickbay, taking a decisive step inside. "You coming or what?" she asked with a perked up eyebrow.
Lena shook her head "Sure. Right behind you." she said, following Widow inside. For Lena, the infirmary was nothing she would ever be afraid of. She had been here so many times. Luckily, more often because she was simply paying Mercy a visit and not so often because she needed Mercy's service as a doctor. Sure, she got injured from time to time, but so far the number of friendly visits surpassed the number she had to be carried to her best friend.
The otherwise sun-flooded sickbay was gloomy and somber now, all because of the storm which had meanwhile erupted above Gibraltar. The strong windows cancelled all noise from outside, but one could see the rain washing against the glass walls, falling down like waterfalls. The periodic, yet erratic flashes of lightning were an annoying disturbance in the corner of the eye, and the way it illuminated the furniture inside the sickbay for but an instant was downright spooky.
Tracer groaned, reaching for a console embedded into the wall right next to the door. "Let me turn on the lights; this is too dark." she said, letting her fingers dance over the touch screen of the console. A moment later, the lights of the infirmary awoke to life, slowly powering up and bathing the sickbay in increasingly bright light, almost as warm in color than real sunlight.
"Do you know what happened to the doctor I attacked?" Widowmaker asked, standing in front of Mercy's desk, letting a finger run over the cool marble. The golden picture frame was gone. Laguardia had moved to his own office the other day.
Somehow being here for the second time and already knowing what awaited Amélie wasn't as bad as the first time had been. Maybe it was because she was alone with Lena, or maybe it was because it was her second visit, but Amélie didn't feel as tense and upset as during the last visit anymore. That is not to say she wasn't feeling a tiny bit queasy. But one quick glance at Lena alleviated that problem.
Amélie had no idea what she'd do without that never ending source of goodness. Lena really was a bright ray of sunshine which had just suddenly appeared in her life.
'I'd still be Talon's slave... and I wouldn't even realize it.'
"Laguardia?" Tracer asked "He got his own office. Morrison said he'll stay with us and accede to the new head of the psychological department. Angela had been doing this before, but she is hopelessly overworked. I'm sure she can really use the help despite her always insisting that she can manage. He is now her subordinate in a way, I guess." Tracer scratched her head, wondering what it was like for Angela to talk about herself and her personal problems with someone who was professionally part of her council and, as such, her subordinate. Well, then again, what little remained of Overwatch's formerly prestigious medical department was barely more than a shadow of its bygone glory. The personnel had been drastically reduced a long time ago. Up until recently, Mercy had been the only medical professional Overwatch had to offer. The Swiss doctor was naturally correspondingly stressed out.
"I see. So, he is fine?" Widow wanted to know, but didn't really sound like she was all that much interested in the doctor's wellbeing.
"Yeah. You didn't hurt him, if that's what you're getting at." Tracer said simply, already suspecting that this wasn't what her girlfriend meant.
"I was more worried about the consequences for us, chérie. Honestly, I don't really care about him." Amélie said with a careless shrug while she walked around Mercy's desk, wandering a bit further inside the infirmary. The sickbeds were all neatly tidied up and ready to host patients, but so far all unoccupied.
Tracer sighed heavily, not really knowing what she expected. Amélie was like this all the time. She only seemed to care about Lena and, to a certain degree, about Angela, but other than that, the French beauty was still very much Widowmaker with all her cold cruelty. Tracer knew that. She also knew that she was the only one who could get Amélie under her thumb should it be necessary. Sometimes the thought scared Tracer. What if she wasn't around when Amélie felt threatened? She just hoped that no one at Overwatch would be stupid enough to deliberately piss off Widowmaker. Her reputation should prevent this, Tracer reasoned with herself. Still, the idea was uncomfortable.
The truth was, Widow didn't waste a second thought to what happened to the people around her as long as she knew that Tracer was fine. Laguardia was just another obstacle to overcome on her way to being with Tracer and hopefully making her happy. She couldn't have cared less about how the doctor was. All she cared about were the consequences it would have for her and Tracer. Amélie would do anything for her Lena. She'd jump out of a window if that's what Tracer wanted. She'd follow her into the deepest pits of hell, and she'd kill for her without any hesitation. Damn, she had killed for Lena; the two cops on the rooftops in Numbani. She shot them because they meant trouble for Tracer.
Amélie was aware that her British lover had probably not the first idea how much she really meant to her. Maybe it was better that way. But the fact remained, there wasn't a thing Amélie wouldn't do to protect Lena; to keep her safe and happy. Overwatch's most iconic hero deserved to be happy more than anything.
Dwelling on that thought for a moment longer, Amélie turned away from the sickbeds and strode toward the middle of the infirmary, behind the large bookshelf separating Mercy's desk from the rest of the sickbay. Her eyes fell on the large glass tube standing there, reaching from the floor to the ceiling. It was fixed in between two pedestals, one on the bottom and one on the top, a few stairs leading up to the glass tube on the bottom one. Tubes and colorful wires were running in neatly organized paths on one side of the instrument, a small desk with a relatively large screen connecting to the unit, the wires plugged into some instruments stacked in a rack underneath the desk. The socket of the glass tube was made from brushed metal and was, just as the glass tube itself, absolutely clean. There wasn't even the hint of a dust grain to be seen. The glass itself had a slight orange shimmer to it, just like most glass surfaces in the Watchpoint tended to have.
It was nothing like the scanner Talon had on board their swimming headquarters. No messy wires, no filthy tubes, and no dirty glass with signs of crusty furring in the corners.
Yet, it was just the same.
Amélie stared at the large instrument for some painfully long moments. She had been in there many, many times. Most of which she didn't remember. What she did remember, however, was how everyone watched her undress. She felt the prying eyes of the scientists on her body. They followed her every move when she stepped up into the scanner. They were glued to her when the scans were running, and they didn't leave her until she was dressed again. Widowmaker hated to be watched like that.
She hated that piece of equipment and how she was always made to get naked. But the scanner wouldn't work properly otherwise. And disobeying meant punishment. You didn't want to get punished at Talon; Widowmaker learned that very quickly. So, she learned to accept it, keeping a straight face at all times and paying special attention to not care about what was going on. Soon enough, she really didn't care anymore. She grew accustomed to the way she was treated. Used to the way she was used. She grew numb to the outside world.
But deep inside, she still detested everything about the procedure.
"Luv?" Tracer asked, carefully putting an arm around Amélie's waist. "Everything alright? You seem a bit out of it."
"Huh?" Amélie blinked. "Pardon, chérie. It's just, they used that thing at Talon a lot. I don't exactly have the best memories of it."
Tracer looked up at her girlfriend, a little bit confused. "Why is that? It's just a scanner. Get in, wait a moment, get out. Done and over. They can tell you what's wrong with you. I've done it a thousand times." Lena said with a supportive smile. She had no idea what the problem was. Chances were that thing was the most harmless piece of technology at the Watchpoint, possibly even more harmless than the coffee brewer. You could burn yourself with that hellish machine. Not that something like this would have ever happened to Lena. Noo. Never. What a ridiculous thought that was.
"I know that... It's just..." Widowmaker spun around and shrugged "You know what, forget it. That's in the past now, isn't it?"
Tracer nodded slowly "Well, I actually don't know if Angela wants to do a physical examination of you as well. She might? We'll have to ask her." she said carefully.
Amélie swallowed. "But it's only going to be you and her, oui?"
"Sure. Who else? Want me to wait outside?" Tracer asked with an impish smirk on her lips, causing Amélie to roll her eyes.
The sound of the door opening was clearly heard in the infirmary, followed by hasty steps on the floor. "Who will have to wait outside?" Mercy asked, coming around her desk.
"That would be me" Tracer shrugged.
"Papperlapapp, Süße. You stay exactly here." Angela smiled, picking up on the currently rather light and easygoing mood Amélie and Tracer somehow managed to create after the rather serious subject they discussed before. "I need you to keep me safe, you know. I don't enjoy choke-play too much." she said with a teasing wink at Amélie, who just shrugged.
"Neither did Laguardia, apparently." she replied, dry as a desert.
"I see you haven't lost your special sense of humor, Amélie" Mercy inhaled sharply. "But let's start for now, ok? I'd like to discuss a few theories I think might happen with you in the future, Amélie, and explain the treatment plan I came up with. Don't worry; there is nothing to be concerned about. It's always going to be only you, and me, and Lena if you want her to be here. Nice and easy. If you get uncomfortable, just tell me and we'll take a break until you feel better. How does that sound?"
-/-
Unknown place, unknown time
"Sir?" Sombra said, her fingers dancing over a keyboard. "Project Gearbox is prepared and ready to go. On your mark, Sir."
"Then let us begin with phase one" the shady person standing behind her announced. His face was bound in bandages. All that was visible were his deep green eyes, shimmering with anticipation.
Soon, he would have achieved what he always wanted. Against all odds. Against what everyone always told him.
He'd be at the top of the world.
At last. It was a long ride, but definitely a fun one. He took great pleasure in getting where he was now, and even if he knew that his goal wasn't fully reached yet, he was positive about it.
Sombra typed a few commands into the console in front of her. Code kept appearing and disappearing on the multiple screens in front of her while she shuffled through various terminals. The Mexican hacker was a true artist when it came to computers. Of course she was; it was the sole reason Talon had hired her and was willing to overlook her tendencies to stick her nose into things that weren't her concern. After all, it wasn't like it mattered in the end what Sombra knew and didn't know.
"Done. Phase one is online. The production plants are booting up. I have to warn you though, Sir: I tried my best to mask the high energy demands of the production plants, drawing power from multiple different sources, but I cannot guarantee someone won't notice it and start to dig around."
"Just set the sites to automated defense and that should do the trick."
"Already done that, Sir" Sombra shrugged carelessly "Just wanted to let you know."
"Excellent. Tell me once we have sufficient numbers to release the next God Program with enough efficiency."
"As you wish, Sir. We are looking at a month…maybe a little more." Sombra replied and flinched when she felt a strong hand pat her shoulder.
"That's acceptable. It's a shame you want to quit after this job, Sombra. Are you sure I can't convince you to stay afterward?"
Oh, hell no. Sombra screamed internally. I'm getting the fuck out of here asap. But she couldn't tell him that. Now, she was really happy that she hacked into Talon's main database to find out everything she needed to know about her employer. He didn't take kindly to people telling him no. "Well, if the money is right, I do whatever you want me to, boss. It's business, after all" she said instead. Nevertheless, she still intended to make a run for it as soon as her current contract was fulfilled. As long as she could keep off the radar and not start talking about Talon, Sombra was certain that she would be left alone.
"That is good to hear. We'll talk about this once we bring the next God Program online. Does it have a name yet?"
"The project name was Achlys so far, after the Greek spirit of death-mist."
"I like it. Keep it." The big boss said. His voice was eerie, downright scary, and penetrating through anyone's ears with a brute force capable of freezing someone inside the soul.
"Of course, Sir." Sombra replied. I'm so out of here as soon as this shit is done. Luckily, Sombra always had an exit strategy. Not even Talon had the most powerful woman of Russia within reach. They tried and they failed. Though Sombra had to admit that the last time they tried and failed was because she herself set off the alarm.
Otherwise, Widowmaker would have landed a clean headshot. Like she always did. Fascinating woman. Scary and fucked up in more ways than Sombra cared counting for, but fascinating nevertheless.
"Oh, and Sombra?" The hand still on her shoulder squeezed tighter. "I need you to do me a favor, if you please." He whispered into her ear, his voice echoing in Sombra's skull.
Her eyes lost focus.
Her brain went numb.
"Whatever you desire, master" she replied automatically. A menacing smirk spread across his lips.
-/-
A/N:
Alrighty boys and girls, that's it for this episode of Addictions.
A few announcements:
Yes, Pharmercy WILL happen in this story. Give me some time, I can't work miracles. But be aware, it is going to be a SIDE pairing.
I apologize for the long wait, really, I'm truly sorry, but it was for a good cause. I have been writing a few chapters in advance to make sure my story works out the way I want it to. Originally I wanted to complete the entire thing and only start publishing again once I'm done writing. But I think it's fine to publish what I have now (yes, there are a couple of chapters already done and currently undergoing beta-reading), I don't think I'll have to go back again and tweak something.
Also, I have to write term-papers, so I'm crazy busy and I don't want to keep you all waiting for longer than necessary. I really hope this is fine for you all.
Let me thank you all for your continued support and absolutely amazing feedback! You people absolutely rule!
Special thanks as usual to my three angels.
I hope you all are having a fantastic time! Keep rocking!
o7
E82
-/-
If you want to support me and my story, you can do so here:
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Translations:
Papperlapapp (German) = fiddlesticks!
Natürlich nicht (German) = of course not.
Pardon (French) = sorry.