Addictions

by E82

Tracer has a slight problem. Ever since her mission to London, she's unable to get her mind off Widowmaker, who incidentally faces similar problems herself. But the price for their mutual affection is a high one, coming at the cost of more than they ever imagined. Soon they find themselves facing off new threats and old enemies with unexpected allies. Widowtracer. Pharmercy later.

33. Chapter 33

A/N:

If you want to support me and my story, you can do so here:

tipeee com slash e82s-fanfiction

-/-

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Somewhere

Sombra was hectically typing on her screen, completely in the zone. The myriad of screens showing even more data quickly rushing by was probably only comprehensible to the Mexican hacker; no one else would have been able to understand and handle these amounts of raw data while simultaneously making god knows how many independent commands. Sombra was switching between consoles and command screens with such ease, she made the entire process seem like it was child's play. Reaper understood exactly nada. It was all Double Dutch to him. He wasn't even sure why he was here in the first place. Reaper definitely wouldn't put it past Sombra to call him here and just have him stand and wait there, simply to see how long he would wait for her to say something. But apparently this wasn't one of those times when the annoying Latina was just trying to mess with him.

"Ok, we have a problem, Gabe," she said, finally leaning back in her chair, cracking her knuckles loudly.

"Stop calling me that," Reaper grumbled behind her.

"Yeah, yeah, sure whatever. Listen, someone caught up with the power consumption."

"And now the version for someone who doesn't stare at a screen his entire day." Reaper said, and Sombra laughed light-heartedly.

"You know about project Gearbox? Of course you know about it by now; you run Talon. All part of the bossman's big secret master plan and whatnot." Sombra was only half right about this. Sure, Reyes knew about the project. He knew it was huge and that it was ridiculously expensive, but that was about the extent of what he was made aware of. The big mission. It was the only project that he had no access to. Talon's former head, who was still unknown to him even by now, was extremely secretive about it, only disclosing the absolutely necessary parts. It had to do with the production of something. What that something was, Reaper could only guess. He really had to get behind this soon.

Sombra continued while he was musing. "Short version for dummies: It takes a lot of juice. Like, a lot of it, so much we can't generate enough with mobile fusion units. That's why I've been carefully draining additional power from multiple sources. I was very careful about it, but someone still caught up with it. Hard to imagine, considering I did the hacking and all, but still. Some government rat found out. Maybe go tell the boss that."

"Why tell me first?"

"You know, I kinda don't want to see him right now. Always staring at my tits and all that. I really don't get paid enough to put up with his long eyes. And certainly not what he imagines." Sombra shrugged, leaning back forward and concentrating on her screen. "Do I look like a hooker to you, Gabe?"

Reaper chuckled deeply. "I won't comment on that," he said and secretly fought the thought of how Sombra's attitude in that regard looked. One version was her, glued to the PC all day long and not going out to entertain other activates. The other one… wasn't so much like that.

"Whatever, Gabe. You know, I wouldn't mind looking under that mask of yours someday." She winked at him.

"In your dreams, Sombra," he replied.

"You're no fun," she pouted playfully.

"Not my problem," he said with a certain edge in his voice. "Who found out?"

"¿Cómo?"

"The power consumption. Which country noticed it? Try to keep up here, Sombra," Reaper groaned, the frustration clearly noticeable in his voice.

"Oh, that. Germany and Austria, it seems. They haven't done anything yet, but they know about it."

"Not good." Reaper sighed.

"Oh? Why is that?" Sombra asked sarcastically and turned around in her chair, but the black-clad killer was already gone. All that Sombra saw was the last bit of black smoke dissolving in thin air.

-/-

Watchpoint Gibraltar, a few days later, 1700 hours

When the private rooms for the Agents at the Watchpoint were designed, it was done so with the intention of housing one person quite comfortably.

The lights in Oxton's room were at merely twenty percent of their full brightness, filling the small space with a dim, cozy light. The blanket of the bed had hastily been thrown over the desk with little regard for what was on the desk at the time. Clothes were lying on the floor, forgotten where they slipped off a body.

It has been a while since only one person inhabited Oxton's little refuge.

Two bodies were lying on top of the bed, their limbs entangled in an indistinguishable mess. Soft moans and tender cries of bliss broke the buzzing desire hanging heavily in the air. If one of the young fleshy hulls hadn't been blue, it would have been impossible to tell them apart.

Tracer had her face buried in the crook of Widowmaker's neck. The former pilot was gently nibbling at the chosen spot, her hot lips caressing the cool skin of her lover. One of Lena's arms snaked around Amélie's back, pushing her up just a little to support her weight while the other was firmly buried in between her girlfriend's endless legs. Lena's fingers worked their magic, every single move she made intent on giving her partner pleasure. Amélie threw her head back in bliss, her hands digging deep into Tracer's back, scratching the Brit deeply.

She didn't mind one bit, allowing herself to be pressed even tighter into Widow's cool body than she already was.

Amélie's mouth was wide open as a silent scream of pleasure escaped her, her whole body feeling like it was one with Lena. The heat of the other girl was seeping into her cold skin, filling her with life and energy. She could feel Tracer's vivid heartbeat hammering against her own chest, and despite the heat and the sweat, she wanted to feel closer to her lover. The Brit was all over her, her masterful hands touching her in places she never thought possible, doing things to her Amélie never knew she liked. Each time they joined each other, their lovemaking got better—more intense and more passionate, their bodies working as one, as they knew exactly what the other craved the most, how to make them doubt their own minds and just lose themselves in the other's arms.

Amélie floated for a few moments, disconnected from the world and everything around her except Tracer. There was nothing on her mind in that moment; she only felt incredible release, satisfaction and peace—the heat of Lena's body, her intoxicating scent, and her careful fingers, gently allowing Amélie to come down from her high by slowing down in a relaxing pattern.

Lena's heartbeat. Strong and wild, like a force of nature.

She felt Lena's tongue slide up her neck and suck on her earlobe and Amélie hummed happily before her body returned from the cloud she had been sitting on. She sank back into the comfy bed and felt the sweat soaked mattress under her, while the linen clung to her sticky back. She couldn't have cared less.

Lena smiled wickedly at her lover, moving to roll off her, but Amélie held her firmly in place on top of her, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman.

"Stay right here, s'il te plaît," she whispered, speaking the first words in hours. None were needed before.

"Mhh…" Lena hummed, letting her head rest in the middle of Amélie's chest. "Have I told you how mind-blowingly gorgeous you are, Blueberry? And how much I love you?"

"Oui. You have." Widow said, staring at the ceiling while her fingers were idly playing with Lena's hair. "But I like when you say it."

Tracer giggled adorably. "You just want your ego stroked."

"Maybe," Amélie replied smugly, and Lena moved to prop her head on her own elbows, now looking her girlfriend deeply in the eyes. There was only love and affection to find in those mesmerizing yellow orbs. Her hard glare was gone; the cold stare was no more, at least around Lena. Sometimes, the expression her malicious glare was replaced with reminded Lena of a deer caught in the headlights.

"You are absolutely stunning, Amélie. And I love you with all of my heart." She said, being absolutely serious about it, before placing a quick and innocent peck on Widow's lips.

Amélie managed a coy, insecure smile, for she still had trouble believing that this was really happening. But it was. This was real life now, and she could not have been happier. Sure, there were many unresolved issues to take care of, but right now, none of this mattered.

"And I love you, chérie." Widow stated simply. She didn't have to say more; Lena understood perfectly. It wasn't only the fact that Amélie could even love someone. It was the whole how and why, neither of which needed to be expressed in words. They understood each other in more ways than by speaking.

A comfortable silence fell over them and Lena decided that now was the time to roll off Widowmaker. She lied on the bed on her back right next to her lover. It didn't take Amélie long to snuggle up against Lena's side, and the Brit reached for the blanked to carefully drape it over their bodies.

"We should take a shower, maybe." Lena laughed.

"There is time for that later," Widow groaned. "I don't want you to move now," she added, and Lena just sighed, accepting the decision. It wasn't like she wanted to get up and move now, either; this was a comfortable position. It didn't matter that they both smelled like sex.

"Have you thought about what Angela told us? With all the implants?" Lena suddenly asked in a quiet voice, barely more than a whisper.

"Oui," Amélie replied, equally subdued, after some moments had passed.

"And?"

"It's not like I have much of a choice, do I?"

"If you think for a second that I would simply accept that you have only two more years to live just because you are afraid of operating tables, then hell no. You don't have a choice. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I sure as fuck don't plan on that being a measly two years."

"Yeah..." Amélie looked away nervously, and Tracer felt her girl stiffen against her body. Lena even felt the shudder that crept up Widowmaker's blue skin, and it didn't give the Brit an awful lot of hope. She just wished there was something she could do to make it easier for Widow.

"Luv, listen to me." Lena reached over to gently turn Amélie's face back around, their noses so close that they were almost touching. Tracer brushed her warm lips against her lover's, giving her a chaste, innocent kiss. "I know it scares you, even if you don't want to admit it, but if there is one thing you can trust in, then it's Angela's capabilities as a doctor. She is by far the best there is. I promise: she will be good to you and will be very careful."

Amélie held Lena's gaze for a moment before she put her head back against Lena's shoulder, cuddling a little closer and relaxing a bit. "I know that," she stated.

"But you're still afraid." Lena sighed and felt the nod against her skin a few moments later. Tracer knew that there was no way that years of abuse and mistreatment would simply go away because of a few good words.

"Why do I feel so horrible when I think about it? Like I'm some broken toy that needs fixing," Amélie asked, bitterness and confusion in her voice. She didn't understand herself. Of course, she was getting better with her emotions. Day by day, she discovered more and was able to make more sense about everything she felt, but there was still so much she didn't understand, feelings she couldn't place, ideas she didn't know the source of, and urges she was uncertain she should have—urges she was uncertain were even normal.

"It's not your fault." Lena held the poor woman next to her closer. "Talon did this to you. They made you like this. But don't feel bad because of it. You are you, Amélie, and you are an amazing woman. Don't ever doubt that. Talon might have seen it differently, but this. Is. Not. Talon. You are not a toy. You don't need fixing. Angela will just revert what Talon forced on you and was too stupid and too sloppy to even do right. It was their mistake, not yours. They forced this on you, but if I have it my way, they will pay for it. And in the end, you can stand proudly in the ashes of what's left of their burning bases, knowing that you were stronger than them, that you survived, that you aren't broken and that you sure as hell aren't their toy. You are your own woman, Amélie, and you have your own story. Not the one they were telling for you."

"You say that like it's a book filled with stories. But there is so much lost of my past, so much I don't remember or was made to forget. So many blank pages."

"It will come back over time. I'm sure of it. You will remember again; it's just all rather fresh. Give yourself some time."

"It's been months..." Widow said, both defeated and frustrated at the same time.

"I know, but your brain has been tampered with for years. It won't work this fast. Some things are already coming back, no?"

"Mostly memories about you, though," Widow said idly.

"Oi, you make it sound like those are worthless memories!" Tracer poked her girlfriend in the sides.

"Non, non. You know that's not what I mean. My memories about you were always very intense. And... well, I had a life before I met you, didn't I? People are talking a lot, and I do hear them. It's not like I care what they think about me, but I would like to remember. They hate me for things I don't recall."

"Tell you what, you give yourself a bit more time and if you don't remember anything soon-ish we'll dig around together, ok? I mean, there are people here who knew you before you got that sexy blue skin." Lena smiled goofily at Amélie, who had to snort at the comment. "As for the other people, just do it like you already do. Ignore them; they don't matter at all. What do you say?"

"That sounds good," Amélie had to admit, indeed feeling better imagining what Lena described to her.

"See? Just talk to me." Lena smiled at Amélie while getting up from bed and pulling her lover with her. "And now, c'mon, Blueberry. Let's hit the showers. We won't spend the entire day in bed again."

-/-

Monterrey, Mexico, two weeks later, 1015 hours

There was a tiny little café in a dark alley in the streets somewhere in Monterrey, a place usually only known by the locals—not the particularly wealthy ones, either. The narrow alley alone was less than inviting, created more by chance than intent between multiple old and sordid houses. The ground was dirty and covered with potholes, and the electricity and TV cables together with the clothesline ropes were almost enough to darken the bright sun in that late morning sky. Despite being small, narrow, and anything but inviting, the alley was still extremely busy, Mexicans rushing through it on old motorbikes at suicidal speeds, walking lazily while going about their day or doing business on the streets.

The café in question didn't have a front door; the entire facade was missing completely, showing a rustic, colonial age public room. The dark wooden chairs and tables all creaked when touched; they were as ancient as the bar, which was of the same wood. The only thing probably even older was a trusty ceiling fan hopelessly overwhelmed by the task of stirring the thick, cigar-smoke-filled and almost unbearably moist air around.

In the very back of the well visited and rather busy café full of loudly chatting locals, there was a small table with two especially creaky chairs that faced the wall.

A man was sitting there, alone so far. He was rather pale and definitely not from around town. If his fair skin and grey hair were no dead giveaways, he was wearing an almost cliché blue Hawaii shirt with yellow flowers imprinted on it and khaki shorts. Everything about him screamed "tourist," even the orange mirrored sunglasses he was wearing.

However, he wasn't sitting in this barely tolerable place alone for too long. A little while after he arrived and even before the young and admittedly very attractive waitress wearing next to nothing (because of the heat and the tips) could take his order, another man sat down next to him. He was wearing a long black jeans and a black sweater with the hood pulled deeply over his face.

How he didn't melt in the moist heat was a mystery to everyone who didn't know his identity.

"How aren't you boiled yet?" Morrison asked, glancing at his friend but not seeing his expression.

"I'm dead. What does it matter?" he grumbled.

"Ah. You're in that mood today. Down to business, then," Morrison said with a sigh, knowing Reyes long enough to understand the meanings of his various versions of grumpiness.

The waitress suddenly appeared out of nowhere. "Buenos días!" she smiled happily, and before she could continue with even another word, Morrison held two fingers up.

"Dos cervezas, por favor," he ordered easily.

The waitress nodded with the same bright smile and was gone as quickly as she appeared.

"Before we go to the boring part, there is something," Reaper started, pausing for a few long seconds, before reaching into one of his pockets and placing a small box on the table. "Could you give that to them please? I... they should have it." He said this completely out of context, but Jack didn't need any. It was absolutely clear to him what Gabriel was talking about, especially considering where they were and what date it was. Morrison wordlessly took the small box and put it into his pocket. Horrible how it had been another year to the day again. He didn't even want to know how it must feel for Reaper to come back to the town that he had considered his home for most of his life.

"You know it won't help them move on," Jack said plainly, without being judgmental.

"How are they? I haven't seen them in so long." Reaper's voice was sad; Morrison could hear it clearly. It was hardly surprising. Gabriel had family when they started their crazy game. That was why, originally, the plan was for Morrison to be in Reaper's place now, for Jack had no one. But then, Zürich happened, and Mercy happened, and Reaper became who he was now. He did what was necessary, left everything behind and convinced the world he was dead. He left his family for the greater good. Or evil. Time would tell.

"They are fine. Your daughter is going to college this year. She is very smart and really popular from what I hear."

"Boys?" Reaper asked when the waitress showed up again, placing two cool beers in front of Reaper and Morrison.

"Gracias," the two said only slightly apart from each other.

"What do you mean boys?"

"Does she have a boyfriend yet?" Reaper asked again, this time more pressing than before. Morrison was evading. He didn't like that.

"Gabe, she is 19, I would guess so. But don't worry about it. I doubt you have to show up and feed someone shotgun shells because of that. She's a smart girl; she won't get involved with some jerk."

"I'll be the judge of that," Reaper grumbled

"Bad idea," Morrison muttered into his beer.

"And Lucía?" Gabriel asked, wanting to know how his now widow was doing. It was really weird; Morrison knew everything about his life, even the darkest parts. Reaper trusted him with his life. Yet he didn't like that Morrison knew more about his family than he did these days.

"Well..." Morrison sighed, "she married again a few month ago. Decent guy. I ran a background check for you."

"And you tell me that now?" Reaper spat, clutching his beer so tightly the bottle was probably going to burst any moment now.

"You didn't ask. Some distance was good for you."

Grumbling was all Morrison got as a response as Reaper relaxed his hand and took the cold beverage from the table, taking it to what was left of his lips. It tasted awful, but at least it was almost freezing.

"I wish I could tell them that I-" Reaper stopped talking. "But I'm dead."

"They know it, trust me, brother. And I will make sure they don't forget," he said, patting the pocket he let Reaper's box vanish into. "They will be happy to get this later when I drop by," he said, and Reaper nodded solemnly, drinking from his beer.

They were sitting like this for some time before Morrison spoke up again. "So, business talk. I'm kind of on a schedule if I want to check on your family, too."

"Time is always an issue, isn't it?" Reaper chuckled "Alright, this is the situation: I had the suspicion before but now I could actually prove it. I've found someone who knows the big boss' identity."

"Are you shitting me? Just like that?"

"Not that sudden, no. Digging that up was virtually impossible. I almost missed it, but she was right in front of my eyes the entire time. I should have known."

"Let me guess: Sombra?"

"The very same." Reaper nodded.

"That's why you wanted me to contact Katja Volskaya, right?"

"Precisely. And before you ask: her intel is good. She saves everything she sees and hears in special data cores in her brain. All we have to do is wait for her to bail. Volskaya agreed to help us out, didn't she?"

"Of course. She wasn't happy to be blackmailed in the first place, but she couldn't deny an old friend a favor either. She will contact me should Sombra reach out to her. What makes you think she wants to leave?"

"She will, I'm certain. Sombra has been waiting for an opportunity to bail for quite some time now, and she is getting impatient now that all her preparations are completed. I just know; trust me. There is a job she has to finish, and then, she'll be on her way. "

"What kind of job?" Morrison perked an eyebrow up.

"Ah, that would be telling." Reaper shook his head, trying to cover the fact that he was woefully underinformed about this matter. Additionally, if Overwatch was prepared for the operation's consequences, it would be clear that someone had leaked the information. "I can't share what little I know. All I can tell you is that it's part of the big endgame. Really, I can't tell you; it would put me under too much suspicion if Overwatch's behavior even implied that you had some forewarning. It's pointless to force you to filter this out of your planning. In ignorance, you'll make the best decision that you could hope to make if I tell you the rest. We aren't at the end yet. This is not over."

"It isn't," Morrison agreed.

"We need to be extra careful now. I didn't get this far just to fuck up by rushing things now."

"You remember that we don't have forever. There is a deadline. The election and all that? When the current UN-General Secretary is gone, it's over for good."

"Usually, I'm the pessimistic one. You and I did shit way more complicated than this."

"Did we now?" Morrison laughed, not amused at all. "So, all we have to do is wait for Sombra now?"

"Seems like it."

"And what do we do with her once we have her? I really don't want to harbor another Talon member just because she looks lost and helpless."

"Ah, Widowmaker settling in?" Reaper wanted to know, glancing over to Jack.

"Let's not talk about that." Morrison shook his head. "Sombra. What do we do with her?"

"Well, you can ask her to share the information with you in exchange for whatever she wants and just kick her out afterward. Or you beat it out of her. I really don't care. But she has to talk. We don't really need her beyond that. Sure, she's a good hacker, but she's also very unpredictable. I never figured her out or her agenda for that matter." Reaper faced Morrison squarely and leaned toward him. "Don't trust her unless you can see her." He paused and leaned back, the chair creaking loudly. "Not even then," he growled.

"Alright. Guess that is doable, one way or another. I just hope this doesn't take too long."

"Oh, you mean longer than placing your little Brit so we could get our hands on Widowmaker?"

"It worked," Morrison stated matter of factly.

"Yes. And it took us more than a year, with ambiguous fucking results."

Morrison remained silent. Reaper's demeanor shifted, and he leaned forward. "Or do we now?" he asked.

"Athena is still mad that I overwrote her privacy protection protocols, and I'm not proud of checking some video logs either. But we know the results. It's what we hoped for. Maybe more. Most likely more."

"Sneaky." Reaper chuckled. "When I first met her, I thought she was just a total tomboy. Never thought she might actually be gay."

"Oh, you have no idea," Jack sighed while shaking his head and reaching for his beer. That was when the soldier's phone started screaming for his attention. He rolled his eyes and reached into his pocket, withdrawing the device and pressing it to his ear.

"Morrison," he said with his distinctive Commander voice, dripping with professionalism. Someone at the other end of the line was speaking rapidly. Morrison just listened and nodded from time to time.

"Well, shit" was the not-so-professional next sentence, followed by the statement that he would be there, wherever there was, as soon as possible.

"I'm afraid I have to cut this short. I need to return back to base," he said, grabbing inside one of the many pockets on his khaki shorts and tossing a few notes of cash onto the table. "Beer is on me. And don't worry, I will visit your family before going back."

"Appreciated."

-/-

Watchpoint Gibraltar, meeting room, four days later, 0700

Tracer was about to push the glass doors leading into the meeting room aside when she walked straight into Mercy, who was also on her way to the scheduled conference. Why it had to be at such an ungodly hour, no one knew.

"G'morning, luv," Lena yawned, waving to her best friend. The doctor smiled an exhausted smile at the other woman before pulling her back from the glass door and a little bit to the side. Sometimes, Angela felt like she was everyone's mother around here, keeping an eye out so her fosterlings wouldn't get themselves into trouble.

"Wha-" Tracer tried to ask a little overwhelmed, as Mercy placed her in front of the wall, grabbed the collar of Tracer's jacket, and straightened it determinedly. The Doc didn't give Tracer the chance to say anything and started fumbling along Lena's shirt beneath the bomber jacket. The Brit hadn't the slightest idea what was going on. Then, Angela's hands were in Lena's hair, pushing the wild, spiky strands in a certain direction.

"Stop it! What are you doing?" Tracer asked, not able to hide a faint flush on her cheeks.

"Süße, you look like you had sex all night" Angela sighed. "You can't go in there looking like that. What were you thinking?"

"Yeah, that's because I—"

"Hush! One would think that one of you two might grow tired at some point," Mercy said without amusement "I mean, have you even left the bed since you are back from Stuttgart?" she asked but didn't allow Lena to even answer, as she continued making Tracer rudimentarily presentable. "Good god, at least try to cover these hickeys down your neck. You look like you got molested by a bear." Angela inspected the place she tried to cover with the collar of Lena's bomber jacket once again, shook her head, and reached into the pocket of her white coat. "Seriously, what does Amélie do to you? You got bite marks there. Tell her to slow down, Jesus. She's not a Vampire, right?" Mercy sighed, pulling a little can of concealer cream with a sponge inside from the pocket and started applying the makeup to Tracer's neck.

"No, she just likes to... Well, I mean, when she has… Errr… When she is… You don't want to know the details." Tracer's face was now bright red, which was rare even when she told Angela about her amorous adventures.

"You are right. I don't. I can see the results. You come to me later for a full body check. I think your back might be in need of some treatment." Angela said, trying her best to not imagine how sex looked with those two, but failing miserably. She was sure they had only two modes: gentle, careful lovemaking and borderline- violent fucking. The borderline part being optional.

"You worry too much," Tracer tried with a one-sided smirk. She knew she was busted.

"Yes, because you don't!" Mercy insisted, finishing her job on Lena's neck. "There you go. Not entirely your complexion, but it will do. Way less obvious than those huge, red bite marks and bruises."

"Thanks, luv," Lena said with small voice.

"It was nothing, Süße. You really need to take better care of yourself," Mercy said, despite knowing that her constant admonishments wouldn't change a thing.

Out of the corner of her eye Angela saw Hana Song approaching the conference room, but instead of entering, Hana walked up to the two friends.

"Sorry to interrupt you," she started, "but if you don't mind, do you have a moment, Unni?" she asked, looking at Tracer. "There is something I need to talk to you about. It's... well..." She glanced nervously at Mercy, who didn't take long to get the hint.

"I'll head inside. Don't take too long; the meeting is about to begin, alright?" Angela smiled gently before she walked away from Tracer and DVa.

"Sure thing. Save me a place, will you?" Lena called after her, before turning back to Hana. "What's on your mind?" she asked easily.

DVa was nervously chewing on her lips, looking everywhere but at Tracer. She felt the heat in her body burning her face, turning it a deep red.

This was so embarrassing, but she had promised herself that she would finally ask Lena. Hana had practiced her question a hundred times in front of the mirror to make sure that she wouldn't stutter when she wanted to ask Tracer, but now, she was just opening and closing her mouth like a fish out of water.

Tracer giggled, patting the younger girl on her back. "Oi, you don't need to be that nervous, luv. I won't bite you. Just out with it!" Lena encouraged the nervously trembling girl.

"It's a bad time for this, isn't it? We should go to the meeting," stammered. She turned around to leave, but Lena grabbed her friend by the collar of her skin-tight MEKKA combat suit and pulled her back.

"Nooope!" Tracer's curiosity was sparked; she wanted to find out what was behind all this. Now that she was thinking about it, Hana had been acting strangely around her for a while now. She just hoped that what the Korean warrior had to say wouldn't start with 'You see, there is this girl I like...'followed by descriptions of a girl strangely similar to Lena. "C'mon, talk to me. What's bothering you?"

"Unni? How do I get a boy to like me?" Hana asked, rubbing her hands together. "There is someone I like, but I don't know what to do and... can you help me?"

Lena blinked. Once. Twice. Hana indeed was talking about a boy. "Are you asking me that because of what you heard the other day?" Lena asked.

"I didn't mean to be rude!" Hana replied, waving her hands in front of herself defensively. "I just... You have a boyfriend and you are really popular and everyone likes you and you are so open and I... please tell me what to do."

For some reason, Lena didn't have the heart to tell Hana that she was so gay she couldn't even draw a straight line. The look in the younger girl's eyes—how she was placing all her hopes in Lena—she just couldn't destroy that hope. The truth was Lena didn't really know a lot about dating guys. She had never done that and never really thought about it, either. So, what to tell Hana now?

"You know, Hana, you don't have to get someone to like you. Just be yourself. Go and talk to them for a bit and just be you. You are a nice girl when you are off duty and have had the chance to unwind a bit. When there is a spark, everything else comes from that alone. Go and talk to him; show an interest in him and what he does."

"You make it sound so easy, Unni."

"It's no sorcery, luv," Lena giggled, thinking back to how she and Widow just kindof stumbled into their relationship because Tracer would not give up hope. "But Hana, whatever you do, you have to do it now. Time is crossing so many plans, especially in our business. As a wise poet once said, 'Of all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are these, it might have been."

"I hadn't seen it that way," Hana confessed.

"Talk to him. There's nothing to be afraid of. You're a cute girl, Hana; I'm sure he'll like you."

"You really think so?"

Lena just nodded. "Anything else I can help you with?"

"No, you already did. Thank you so much. I needed that."

"Any day. Let's go before they start this super-important meeting without us," Tracer said, turning to the glass doors and proceeding to lead the way into the conference room. She spotted Angela and walked up to her, leaving DVa to find her own place.

The last time Lena and her best friend had been in there, Mercy had lost consciousness because of exhaustion. That was a few days after Winston had activated the Recall, many months ago. Time flew. The meeting room in the shape of a lecture hall hadn't changed since then. The fold-down chairs were still blue, and the holo-projector at the front was displaying the Overwatch insignia like it always did when it wasn't in use. Winston was shuffling through some papers, preparing for what he had to say soon.

A few other agents were already there, but most were not. There was an Indian woman, whom everyone called Symmetra, sitting in the absolute middle of the room, three pencils on the little tray table in front of her, all of which were at exactly the same distance from each other.

Lúcio was there as well, sitting in the second row to the side. He had his legs up comfortably on the chair in front of him, chatting lazily with McCree. The cowboy was sitting next to him in a similarly relaxed fashion, his hat resting on his chest

Now sitting two rows behind Lúcio and a little more to the center was DVa. She carefully kept stealing shy glances at Lúcio, intent to not let anyone notice what she was doing. Lena saw it immediately, though, and had to suppress a bemused smile. Now, who might the secret crush be? Gee wiz, I wonder.

Tracer joined Mercy, who apparently had simply chosen the first seats she found. They engaged in some idle chit-chat, waiting for the briefing to start and, of course, for the missing agents to arrive. Mercy inquired about the whereabouts of Amélie, and Lena told her that she had let her girlfriend sleep, having left a note saying that she would be back soon. Angela seemed satisfied with that answer.

Hanzo and Genji were the next ones to join them. Judging from the towel still hanging around the older Shimada's neck, they had been training together. Genji greeted Angela and took the seat in front of her.

It didn't take long for the rest of the agents to show up. Zarya, Reinhardt and, of course, Torbjörn. Pharah naturally couldn't appear, as she was still bound to the wheelchair.

Winston, standing in front of everyone, carefully cleared his throat while rubbing a white cloth over his glasses, "Alright, Ladies and Gentlemen. May I have your attention please?" he started, putting his glasses back on. "There is an important matter I have to inform you about immediately. As we speak, a situation is developing in the Austrian Alps, near the German border. "

The projector showing the Overwatch insignia up until now changed its image to a map, displaying a large area somewhere in the Austrian Alps. The topographical lines were obvious indicators of just how impassable the area was. Apart from that, there was nothing really unusual about the map—at least, nothing that Tracer could see that would qualify for an emergency meeting this early in the morning.

"During the course of the last two weeks, both German and Austrian authorities have noticed an increasing power output from their automated power plants, responding to higher power demands. Now, that wouldn't be worrisome per se if not for the fact that a few hundred gigawatts of extra power have been drawn so far and the fact that, until recently, no one knew where any of it went." Winston pressed a button on the remote control he had placed on the desk before the start of the presentation, and the projector showed the next slide. "Four days ago, an Austrian technician managed to approximate the location to which all that extra power was delivered." A red circle showed up on the previous map, but all it showed was mountains. "As you can, see there is nothing there. However, the Austrian government decided to investigate. They dispatched a small research group three days ago, and so far, they have not reported back. Upon conducting further, indirect investigations and obtaining in-depth satellite scans, we were able to get some readings. Judging from thermal scans and the strong electromagnetic signatures, Athena and I came to the conclusion that there must be some kind of underground facility in the Alps." Winston showed the next image, which was the same map but with the outlines of what seemed to be an enormous underground complex.

"I have a question," Lúcio interrupted. "Why exactly are you telling us this?"

"Good question. I was just about to get into it." Winston nodded. "Yesterday the German and Austrian special task forces formed an unofficial joint operations group to investigate the situation further. They have reached out to us and asked for our help—unofficially, of course. The respective governments are still not giving their go-ahead for an official mission. So far the fate of the scientists is considered an accident."

That was exactly the moment when the door was flung open and Morrison stormed into the meeting room, stressed out, as usual.

"Seems like I came in just at the right time," he muttered.

"You did, Sir," Winston said. "I was just about to—"

"Got it," Morrison interrupted. "Listen up. This mission is a special one. Four of you will be sent to Austria as military advisors to help the task group figure out what's going on. And when I say you're going as advisors, I mean you will go ahead and confirm that there is actually a threat where all that power is drained. Our contacts within the special task forces can't act without official orders. Which they aren't getting without any proof. We don't know anything definite yet, which is why everyone is on edge. All we know for sure is that something's there. A team of twenty scientists doesn't die of the damn cold. And they are dead; we're sure of it. We could be facing Talon or even omnics. Either way, we aren't sitting this one out. We'll do the recon mission the local military needs us to do and provide the necessary proof to get the marching orders thy require. They are capable enough to take care of the rest. This is a reconnaissancemission, keep that in mind. I want the Agents Shimada, both of them, and Agents Wilhelm and Oxton geared up and ready for deployment in half an hour. Agent Dos Santos will be our field medic for this mission." He looked at Mercy, who was excitedly fidgeting in her chair, and slowed his roll. "I'm sorry, Dr. Ziegler, but you'll be sitting this one out. Dr. Laguardia told me to not put you back to active duty for some time, and I'm going to follow his recommendations. The rest of you, stand by in case things get ugly. For now, a small strike team is our best move, but we need you all ready. Alright, that's it. You have your orders."

The agents stood up and saluted quickly. "Yes, Sir!" everyone said in unison. Sometimes, in the familiar atmosphere at the Watchpoint, it was easy to forget that they were a military organization; they followed protocol.

"The mission is called operation Pike's Peak. Dismissed," Morrison grunted, turning away to leave the meeting room.

"I feel left out," Angela complained when they were all getting up from their places and preparing to leave. "I want to be out there too. What if something happens? Reinhardt is always too reckless, charging in without a second thought. And Genji, what if his cybernetic systems are malfunctioning? Who will repair them? Or Hanzo? He thinks he is invincible, but he isn't! And you, Lena—"

"Oi, luv, would you shut it, please?" Lena nudged her best friend in the side. "Everyone is going to be fine. Whatever we are facing it's nothing we couldn't handle. I mean, Morrison probably just jumped at the possibility to get some action for himself and us. You worry too much."

"You always say that, and then I am the one who has to fix all of your bruises, cuts and… bullet holes…!" Panicked, she exhaled and then quickly inhaled, nearly swooning. Then, she sighed heavily, her head sinking for a second, before she composed herself enough to look back up at Tracer. "I'm worried about you, Lena. You always get yourself into trouble, and you know it."

"I will come back, and I'll be fine. Besides, it's not like Amélie would let me live if something happened to me. She'd probably revive me just to kill me again or something," Lena laughed. "That reminds me... Would you mind telling her that I have to leave? I would love to say goodbye, and, well... She is still in my quarters, and Morrison was kinda stressing a little. Don't want to anger him too much."

"You prepare yourself, and I'll see what I can do."

-/-

20 minutes later in the hangar.

Two Overwatch Orca shuttles were being prepared for their flight to an Austrian military base. Dozens of technicians made sure that the refueling procedure was working properly, that the energy-cells were loaded correctly and that all the equipment and supplies were being stored according to specifications. It was one big hustle and bustle in the middle of which the five Overwatch Agents awaited the green light. Morrison, who would come along for this mission, was barking orders around, while Reinhardt was standing in front of a small scaffold, allowing Torbjörn to make some last-minute adjustments to his impressive armor.

Genji and his brother Hanzo were sitting on a large crate of ammunition, both cross-legged and apparently meditating, while Lúcio was carrying a bag of medical supplies into one of the shuttles.

Oxton was just checking the cooling units of her plasma pistols when she heard footsteps from behind. It was just whom she had hoped for. Angela was walking up to Tracer, closely followed by Widowmaker. The assassin looked unfazed and bored as usual, but Lena noticed the spark in her golden eyes.

"Heya," Lena said, waving with a friendly smile and forcing herself not to be overjoyed to be able to say goodbye to Amélie. There were more than enough eyes around; someone would see.

Mercy didn't even get to say something before Widow did, regarding Tracer with an icy stare. "If I knew you would be gone more than you're here, I might have reconsidered coming here," she said dryly.

"Hey, it's not that bad, c'mon." Tracer smiled, not knowing what she should do with her hands. She wanted to nudge Amélie, but decided against it, instead just folding her arms awkwardly above her chronal accelerator.

"You don't have to sit around all day," Widow snorted with a shrug. A moment of heavy silence spread between them. The tension was so thick that Mercy thought she would be able to cut a piece of air out from between the two. There was so much both of them wanted to do so desperately, and it was so painfully obvious for Mercy. She could feel how torturous it was for the couple to stand so close to each other and yet so far away.

"Don't you dare to come back with a scratch I didn't put on you," Widow said quietly.

"Awww, you know me. I'm indestructible." Lena winked at Amélie, who suddenly reached out and grabbed Tracer's hand in hers, giving it a gentle squeeze and stroking the back with her thumb. She continued for maybe a moment longer than was strictly necessary, and Tracer blushed fiercely.

"I'll be careful. I promise, ok?" Lena said in a more serious voice. "Don't worry about me, luv," she added, and Amélie let go of Tracer's hand, allowing the Brit to turn around and rush off toward the shuttle.

"Merci," Widow said, looking after Lena.

"You don't have to thank me. I understand," Mercy told her.

A deep voice cleared his throat behind them. "I, speaking for myself, do not understand." Reinhardt, whose armor was apparently complete now, appeared next to them, standing in between Mercy and Widow. "You might have Angela fooled for reasons I don't know, but let me tell you this: You don't have me fooled for a second. I know what kind of woman you were, and you haven't changed one bit. Your entire memory loss— I don't buy it. You are just the same as you were before Talon. You will leave Lena alone! She is too smart to fall for you a manipulative wench like you! And if I see you touching her again, I will smash your head with my hammer like a pumpkin," Reinhardt said plainly, glaring at Widowmaker with pure contempt. The assassin just stared back with the deadly gaze she was now known for.

"You would hit a lady?" she asked, without a hint of emotion in her voice but not without a teasing lilt.

She wouldn't allow the whirlwind of emotional pain and confusion his words caused her to show on the outside. She would not grant him that satisfaction.

"The hammer of justice is unisex," Reinhardt replied after being taken aback for a short moment. His surprise may have resulted from Amélie's snarky comment or perhaps from the suggestive glance Mercy gave him.

"You will leave your hammer in the armory where it belongs, you big fool," Torbjörn said, also joining them. Angela was surprised that she didn't have to do a lot of talking this time around. "I told you before; I'll tell you again. She didn't do anything wrong. When will that finally sink into your brain? Now, would you kindly get on that shuttle? They're all waiting for you."

Reinhardt just grumbled something unintelligible and walked away, swinging his huge hammer over his shoulder and boarding one of the shuttles.

"Sorry for that," Torbjörn sighed, stroking through his beard.

"Hardly your fault now, is it?" Amélie shrugged, but Torbjörn just shook his head.

"And that's where you're wrong." He said, exchanging a look with Angela.

Widowmaker didn't react at first. Not a single muscle in her face moved; she didn't blink, didn't flinch—nothing. She just stood there for a few moments, apparently thinking about something. "Alright." She started inhaling deeply. "I will ask this once now, and I want an answer," she said before almost yelling, "What the fuck is going on?! Why is everyone talking about me like they know me?" she grabbed Torbjörn at his shoulder and lifted him up into the air with absolute ease, shaking him violently. "I get the feeling everyone around here knows me better than I do! What happened? And why is everyone telling a different story! First Mercy here tells me that there was a time when she wasn't certain if I joined Talon voluntarily, then you come around, telling me that nothing of whatever happened was my fault, and now this ass here makes it sound like I was evil from the very beginning. Would someone care to tell me what the fuck is wrong? What are you talking about?!" Widow glared into Torbjörns from shock wide open eyes. "Who the hell am I?! Or who was I?! What is wrong with me!? I can't remember, for crying out loud! Why do you say it's your fault? What's your fault!? Spill it! I'm so sick and tired of fumbling in the dark! I can't fucking remember!"

"Amélie!" Mercy called out, putting a hand on her shoulder

"What?!" she hissed, spinning her head around to give a piercing stare to Angela.

"Please! Calm down. We'll tell you all we know, ok? But please, just let go of Torbjörn." Widow blinked, obviously confused, looked back at Torbjörn and seemed to just now notice that she had grabbed him and lifted him off the ground. She quickly put him back down, stepping back a little bit.

"I... apologize," she said uncomfortably.

"You are pretty strong for a woman of your slender stature." Trobjörn laughed and walked off, waving both Mercy and Widowmaker to follow him. "Let's talk somewhere a bit more comfortable."

The place the engineer had in mind was the cafeteria, since there was not really a better place to sit together. Maybe the bar could have done, but it was too early in the day to go there.

The trio searched for an empty table and sat down, Widowmaker looking back and forth between Mercy and Torbjörn, expecting them to say something.

"You know that you killed your husband, right?" Torbjörn started, not beating around the bush.

"Oui. But that's it. I don't really remember anything more."

"Amélie, are you sure you want to talk about this?" Angela asked carefully, worry written on her face. "Some things might be better left forgotten."

Widowmaker shook her head decisively. "I need to know this. I feel like so much is connected to it."

Torbjörn looked at Mercy who nodded ever so slightly, giving him the go-ahead. "We talked about this a little bit already. Gerard, your husband… He wasn't good to you." Torb started and Angela heard herself snort loudly.

"He was an abusive bastard. He hit you, mistreated you badly, terrorized you. He was a horrible human being," Mercy said.

"Yes." Torbjörn nodded. "But here is the problem: no one knew about this. Gerard was a master of deception. He somehow managed to keep everyone convinced that you two lived a happy life and had the perfect marriage. He took you along to official events, and you looked as radiant as always. You followed him around and didn't talk a lot, so people thought you were a bit arrogant—pretty, but arrogant. I thought so. It wasn't until much later that I figured out why you didn't say a word and didn't dare to leave his side."

Widow was clenching her fists together, uncomfortable images flashing through her mind. What Torbjörn was saying felt like the truth. She felt his words connect to so many small fragments scattered across her badly damaged memory.

"I know this because I saw it happening. I had to go to your apartment for something, I don't remember what it was anymore. It's not really important now anyway. When I got there, the door was open for some reason. So, I just walked inside, thinking something might be wrong. And it was, though I never would have guessed that this was what was wrong… I heard someone scream and found you two in the kitchen. Your husband was beating you with his belt, yelling at you, kicking you. You were preparing a cake or something. The dough was all over the floor together with some broken bottles of oil and stuff. It was horrible. You were just lying there in the middle of that chaos, curled up in a fetal position, crying, apologizing and begging for Gerard to stop, but he was still kicking at you. He did it because you wanted to make a cake for your neighbor," Torbjörn explained, his eyes staring into the distance as he relived that day again. He had liked Gerard before that day, trusted him, thought he was a good soldier and an honorable man. That image of him shattered on that day and was beyond repair. "I never beat someone up as badly as I did Gerard Lacroix on that afternoon. Thought that was enough. Wasn't. Should have killed him in your stead." He took a deep breath. "I wanted to take you to the doctor, but you didn't let me. You said you were fine and that it wasn't as bad as it looked. You were shaking and both you and I knew that it wasn't the truth, but what was I supposed to do? I made you promise that you would fight back the next time he tried something and that you would come straight to me. If I had known that you gave me a classic reply for a victim of constant abuse, I would have dragged you out of there, but I had no idea."

Amélie blinked, swallowing heavily, bits and pieces from that day flashing into her memory again. She had the smell of the cake in her nose and then only pain. The taste of blood in her mouth and a pair of evil green eyes. Someone was faintly yelling at Gerard, but it was just a distant echo despite the pure rage the voice contained. "I... don't remember. But it feels familiar." She was getting more and more nervous and anxious with every word Lindholm spoke, and it showed. Nervous Widowmaker was never a good idea to have around, no matter what, but there was no other option now. Mercy knew it was a mistake to talk about this without Lena nearby, but it was too late now. "Did I contact you again?" asked Amélie.

"You did," Mercy replied for Torbjörn. "A few weeks later, Torbjörn brought you to me. You were limping badly but trying to play everything down. When I checked you, your body was covered in bruises and scars, some older and some very fresh. Two of your ribs were broken that day. I patched you up and asked who did this to you. You insisted you fell down the stairs, but I kept asking. You were very evasive at first, but eventually I managed to get you to at least tell me that someone did this to you. I tried to find out who, but you didn't want to tell me. I was really worried for you, you know? But you told me that you already found a way to help yourself. That you are going to leave everything behind you. You said that you found powerful friend who would protect you now and also a way that he could never hurt you again. You didn't talk about it much, and at the time I didn't think asking a lot of questions either, but..."

"... Then, I was abducted by Talon, came back, and killed my husband before vanishing."

"Yes. I know it was wrong, but I thought that was your way out. It seemed logical. A part of me felt guilty for blaming you."

Widowmaker nodded slowly. "And what about Rein? Why does he think I always was evil?"

"He caught you in a bad moment," Torbjörn replied, "and based his whole judgment on that. The old hothead."

-/-

Flashback, Watchpoint Gibraltar:

"I know exactly what you were trying to do!" Gerard's voice echoed through the hallway. "You tried to betray me! Everything we are and stand for! I can never forgive you for this! You better hope no one will ever find out about this, or we are ruined. You get that? It's all your fault! You have to make everything complicated with your antics!"

Reinhardt looked at Torbjörn, the two of them returning from a mission together. They had heard the fragments of a heated argument when they left the shuttle bay, but as they kept walking, the voices got clearer, their disagreement more understandable and the participants obvious.

"You shut your mouth!" Amélie yelled, not realizing that this was the moment Reinhardt and Torbjörn came around the corner. "I've had enough of you and your madness! Don't you dare and try to stop me, I swear to god, if you even think about getting in my way I will not hesitate to cut your throat while you sleep, I don't care anymore! I'd rather go to jail for the rest of my life than face the alternative!" she yelled and smacked him across the face as hard as she could, before spinning around.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Reinhardt roared.

"Not your fucking problem, enfoire!" Amélie hissed with a sour voice, rushing past him while turning her face away. She was close to tears and trembling all over her body but didn't want anyone to see how shaken she truly was. She didn't want anyone to see how Gerard made her feel. She didn't want to be weak.

"She is a total lunatic!" Gerard exclaimed, turning around and leaving.

"I never liked that woman, Torb. She is dangerous."

"No, she isn't. We should look at Gerard more closely."

"To protect him? I will defend my comrade in arms at all cost."

"You idiot, he is the one who abuses Amé, not the other way around." Torbjörn growled.

Reinhardt hesitated for a moment, thinking about the possibility of Torbjörn being right. He quickly had to dismiss the whole idea, Gerard was a man of honor. A knight of virtue, Reinhardt was sure of it. They fought together and bled together. To deceive a comrade in times of war was dishonorable. And Gerard wasn't dishonerable.

"My small friend, Gerard is an honorable warrior and comrade of mine. I know what I just saw. I trust Gerard with my life! We must find out what preparations this woman made! His life might be in grave danger!" Reinhardt announced this, before he walked off, leaving a completely baffled Torbjörn behind

"how can you be this dense, friend?" he mumbled into his beard.

-/-

"Let me guess?" Amélie breathed, her hands rubbing over the thighs of her pants.

"Yes, that was the day before you were abducted." Mercy nodded. "When you came back and murdered Gerard, it was just like you told him you would. You slit his throat in his sleep."

"Merde," Widow whispered. "What if he is right? What if I really am evil and did all that on purpose?"

"You didn't." Torbjörn said. "When we searched Gerard's and your apartment when you both were... gone... we found a packed suitcase full of your stuff, a ticket to Canada and some papers provided by a Canadian domestic violence help organization. You bought a small hut with their help, and they were about to get you out of there. One more day, and nothing would have happened to you."

"Oh," was all Amélie managed to say. "Does Lena know anything about this?"

Mercy shook her head. "She doesn't. She was still flying for the air force when that happened."

"I see," Widow said, pausing for a moment. Her mouth opened and closed once, she, herself, obviously not so sure what to say. Her head was hurting—something was on the verge of coming back to her—but she felt like it was about to slip from her mind again. "Merci. I have to be alone for a little bit. Excuse me," she added, getting up from her chair with her characteristic sublime grace and slowly walked away without another word, not caring if she was allowed to go or not.

"Let her go." Mercy said to Torb, before the latter could speak up. "She won't murder anyone... I hope."

"You hope?" Torbjörn deadpanned, but Mercy just gave him a blank stare, which drew the mechanic into raising his hands in abdication. Torbörn watched as Widowmaker vanished from their sights, the swing of her hips the last thing he saw. He turned to Mercy, furrowing a brow "Why did she want to know if Lena was aware of this story?"

"Just forget she ever said that," Mercy said plainly, not looking at him.

"Ohh boy..."

-/-

Austria, airbase Hinterstoisser, temporary center of command for Operation Pikes Peak, fifteen hours later

The two Orca shuttles made a tight turn before touching the old concrete ground surrounded by various hangars. Dust from the ground whirled up into the air, blasting across the airbase as the engines of the shuttles were still at full thrust, gently setting the Ocra's down onto the surface. The dust cleared quickly because of the chilly mountain winds.

The engines of the massive transport vessels were killed and slowly came to a stop, the high pitched whirring they emitted becoming more and more dull before eventually fading away completely. The flight had been a long one, but the Overwatch team was perfectly on time.

The soldiers at the base were a little curious about the new arrivals and did glance over to the shuttles, especially when the Orcas' hatches opened. The agents of Overwatch disembarked one after another, stretching, happy to finally breath fresh air and stretch their legs for a little. Reinhardt, however, was already carrying some crates of equipment.

Agent Oxton was taking in the picture that presented itself to her for a moment while Morrison was busy organizing the unloading procedure. The airbase was extremely busy; soldiers clad in black uniforms were running around, following their orders. The feeling of hecticness was in the air mixed with a sizzling feeling of uncertainty and nervousness. Something bad was going to happen.

The tension was almost tangible. It was awfully quiet despite all the ruckus going on, and the sky was murky with dark thunderclouds.

"You feel it, as well?" Hanzo said, appearing next to Tracer.

"Yeah," she nodded, "this is going to be... interesting."

"So is your choice of words," Hanzo countered, shaking his head with a small smirk. That was what he liked about working at Overwatch. The people who fought alongside him were just as keen on combat as he was.

From the corner of his eye, he noticed two figures approaching, both of them apparently part of the airbase personnel. They were wearing dark uniforms, one black, one a dark grey; the only blobs of color on their uniforms were their red berets and the badges of rank on their shoulders—two officers, it seemed. They were walking at a fast pace and followed the military drill down to the last detail. The way they were walking alone made one thing obvious: they had spent the majority of their lives in the military.

"Glad to see you have finally arrived," one of the two said once they stood in front of each other. "I'm Oberst Winterer from the Austrian Jagdkommandos. This is my German colleague Major Schmitt from the Gebirgsjäger. He and his men will be supporting this mission." Winterer had a cold, professional tone to him, one that perfectly showed his no-nonsense attitude.

"Pleased to meet you," Tracer said with a friendly smile. "I'm Agent Oxton. And this is the team you requested: agents Shimada, Wilhelm and Correia dos Santos. Let me get Commander Morrison for you."

"Thank you."

Tracer smiled, pulled her hand out of her glove and put two fingers into her mouth, before whistling loudly. She easily got Morrison's attention, the commander had been conversing with Reinhardt about something up until that moment.

"Come over 'ere boss! The brass wants to talk to you!" she shouted, smiling at the two officers who were looking at her funnily. They seriously needed to loosen up a little. How can anyone work with a stick up their arses like they obviously had?

"Commander, a pleasure," Winterer said, saluting quickly. Morrison returned the gesture.

"Have you been updated about the mission parameters?" Schmitt wanted to know.

"Not to the full extent. We know you requested us via unofficial channels as advisors to take a closer look at what appears to be some kind of factory. And we both know what you had in mind when you asked about advisors, especially considering the legal status of this mission."

"You certainly did your homework, Commander."

"That's the job of people like you and me, isn't it?" Morrison grinned, knowing that two military persons were absolutely able to see eye-to-eye about these matters.

The Major coughed, but nodded. "I suppose that's the case. To be blunt with you, Commander, advisory positions aren't really what we need you for—that is definitely true. You see, this mission is not exactly official yet. No one in the ministry of defense gave their clear go-ahead so far; we are lacking critical information."

"We were made aware of that little problem," Tracer added with a shrug and Winter sighed. Schmitt took over for him.

"So, despite the fact that a few hundred well-trained and well-equipped soldiers are just waiting for their go, we can't do much. Especially the Gebirgsjäger, since we are merely guests."

"Oh, let me guess," Tracer rolled her eyes and sighed deeply. "But what a bunch of civilians, who just happen to be armed, do in the mountains is absolutely beyond your control?"

"Oxton!" Morrison admonished with a hiss. This girl and her loose mouth...

"Sorry, boss," Lena muttered, looking away awkwardly.

"Actually, we were thinking something along those lines, Agent Oxton," Winter said apologetically. "I really hope you are still going to help us. The situation is not looking well. Not one bit."

Morrison looked at Tracer and noticed that she was glancing into the round of her comrades, just to make sure they all were on the same page. Morrison had to admit that the Brit had become an excellent field officer. Her command style was different from his, but it worked. He was proud of her. She was an excellent second-in-command for this mission and her reaction proved just that. She considered the opinion of her comrades. Sure, technically she could have ordered them to do what she wanted; everyone was aware of that. Morrison was. Tracer was and the team was, too. Morrison would just have to agree and Tracer would get everyone going. But that wasn't Lena's style. People worked better when they actually agreed on what they were doing.

What she saw was what she expected. Nods and approval. Lena also nodded slightly, just to let the Commander know they were all in on this.

"How do we get to the location?" Morrison asked, not bothering with accepting the mission.

"We were hoping that you'd coordinate your team from the control center here, Commander. We have prepared two helicopters to be used at your discretion. They will bring your team as close to the landing zone as possible. Your job is to get inside and gather information: who built the factory, what the damn thing produces, and what happened to the scientists. If you encounter problems, we don't expect you to fight them off on your own. Pull out immediately once that happens and inform us about it. The information should be enough to give us official marching orders."

"You got it. Point the way, then." Tracer smiled cheerfully. She was totally looking forward to some action again. The mission to Stuttgart just hadn't satisfied her thirst for adventure.

-/-

It had been a while since Lena sat inside a true, old-fashioned helicopter. With the introduction of jump jets, the technology was left forgotten for the most part. Still, they had their advantages; most countries with lots of mountains preferred the smaller and more nimble helicopters over VTOL aircrafts. Austria was no exception, flying the latest model available on the military market.

The black helicopter maneuvered nimbly through the difficult terrain, the pilot expertly evading the deadly rocks below them at ridiculously high speeds. That guy had definitely done this before, nd given the altitude he was flying, he surely wasn't doing it the first time.

Tracer was a good pilot—some might have said one of the best fighter-aces the air force ever had—but she was not so certain that she could have pulled this kind of flying off. The Austrian pilots were obviously trained for extreme low altitude operations in the mountains. A completely suicidal activity in itself, and these guys were apparently crazy enough to even enjoy it. Lena liked them already.

She wondered if the pilots who had dropped off Genji and Hanzo half an hour earlier were also this crazy. The answer was probably yes. Lena still thought it was a questionable decision to send the two brothers up ahead to do some preliminary scouting of the facility. They should have stayed as a group. Sure, it would have meant that no one would have gone to find the surveillance control room and that they would be moving blind through a likely hostile facility, but their combat power would also have been much greater. But Morrison decided that information and stealth would be better for this mission, and Tracer was soldier enough to not question the orders of her commander. Thus, Genji and Hanzo were probably somewhere deep inside the facility by now, and if all things went well, were hiding inside a control room.

Lena smiled at the thought of Hanzo pressed into a closet as his hiding spot.

"30 seconds 'til touchdown," the announcement of their pilot came from the speakers as the machine was making a tight turn around a rugged crag, forcing the passengers to hold on to their support bars for dear life. Tracer's smile vanished pretty quickly.

"15." the machine was rapidly losing speed.

"Touchdown! Good luck, people."

"Thanks for the lift, luvs!" Oxton jumped out of the helicopter followed by Reinhardt and Lúcio. They immediately vacated the landing zone, while the helicopter accelerated away, whirling up dry dust in a large cloud.

"So what's the situation now?" Reinhardt asked once the team was together, hiding behind a large formation of rocks. There was a small, rocky path nearby.

Lúcio was unfolding a map; he did prefer actual physical items over projections. The wind was a little bothersome for it kept pulling on the paper of the map, but they managed to hold it down. "We are currently somewhere here." He pointed at a location on the map. "The entrance to the factory we are looking for should be nearby, just along that path. Try contacting Genji."

Tracer nodded and pressed a finger to her ear. "Com-check. Alpha team, come in." There was a moment of silence in which Lena furrowed her brow. "Alpha team, do you read me? Genji? Hanzo? Are you there?" She waited another moment, but no one replied.

"Communications are dead; there is no signal. I guess they're too far inside the mountain and can't get a connection." She said, while Reinhardt nodded in agreement. The scans of the factory alrady indicated its sheer size, so depending on where the first team was, it was more than realistic that radio contact was simply impossible. Massive rocks were usually not conducive to radio communications.

"Do we know anything about external surveillance systems?" Lena asked.

"No. We have to be moving carefully and hope that we can make radio contact once we approach the entrance to the factory." Reinhardt said. "I'll take the lead. Follow me, my friends."

Indeed, the entrance to the factory was not three minutes away from the location they had been dropped off. At first glance, the opening leading into a cave was easy to miss, but once they all walked inside, their path was soon blocked by an enormous, red metal wall.

This was definitely the place, the entrance to the underground factory they had been looking for. So far, there was no surveillance system visible. Strange.

Each step echoed inside the small cave until shortly after the agents of Overwatch stopped in front of the large metal door in their way. Tracer was definitely impressed by the enormous size of the front door alone.

"And how do we get inside there?"

"Knock and ask kindly isn't an option, I guess?" Lúcio shrugged.

Reinhardt laughed. "Knocking is a good cue. Step back, my friends!" He said, swinging his massive hammer. If it wasn't for Lena putting her hand up to stop him, he would have crushed the door underneath his brutal weapon.

"The scientists did get inside somehow. They didn't come equipped with a hammer, Rein. Neither did Genji and Hanzo. We want to gather intel. Can't do that if the whole country hears us coming."

"I hate it when she is right," Reinhardt muttered. "Any luck with contacting our Japanese comrades?"

"I'll try it again," Lúcio said. "Alpha team, this is Bravo. Come in, please."

Static cracking noises was all their ear-pieces spouted for a second, but then, the noise cleared out and there was a voice. It could have been clearer, but it was still perfectly understandable. "We thought you might have forgotten about us."

"Hanzo. Good to hear from you. No, we didn't forget about you. But we couldn't get through to you with all that rock around." Lúcio replied. "Listen, how exactly did you get through the door?" Lúcio asked and glanced over to Tracer, who was looking at the metal wall and noticed that there was a normal sized door incorporated into it.

"Most obstacles only exist in our mind," Hanzo said mysteriously.

Lúcio frowned, but Tracer just smirked and carefully pushed the handle of the door down.

It swung open.

"Of all the things I didn't expect, this might just take the cake." Tracer blinked twice, just to make sure that she wasn't seeing things. The door leading into the secret complex, however, was indeed open.

"That's what we thought, too," Hanzo's bodiless voice replied.

"Wait a second, my friend. Are you telling us that you also found the door open?" Reinhardt wanted to know.

"That we did."

"Ok, I'll just go ahead and ask this now. Why exactly would you leave the door to your super-secret underground whateverthisis unlocked?" Lúcio asked curiously.

"Either because whoever built this facility didn't expect it to be found or because the scientists opened the door for us before they vanished," Lena provided. The group was standing around the now open entrance, all of them looking at it with some suspicion apparent on their faces.

"Or this is one huge-ass trap." Lúcio murmured rather quietly, not really wanting anyone to hear that thought. He didn't like the idea himself.

"Whatever it is," Hanzo's voice said, "it's brand new. My brother says the systems here are of the finest quality."

"Are there surveillance systems?" Lena asked.

"There are, but we managed to loop them, except for one rather large area. Genji is still working on getting access. We will keep you updated."

"Alright." Lena nodded. "We gain nothing from standing around here," she said and stepped through the open door.

The room behind the metal gate was a stark contrast to the rough, uneven and damp cave outside. Smooth, grey concrete covered the walls, the ceiling and the floor. The air was parched, and apparently, light wasn't really a thing here. The small room behind the door was merely lit by a few red emergency lights, providing a bare minimum of illumination. From that central room, a lot of different corridors spread out at an angle into different directions. They all led deeper underground.

"Where to, Bravo?" Reinhardt asked, looking at each of the different ways with some suspicion. The feeling he got here was not an overly positive one. Yes, he had a bad feeling about this; something was off about this whole thing.

"We have a pretty good overview over the facility by now," Genji replied. "But, as Hanzo said before, we still need access to one specific area. Please follow the second corridor to your left. We don't know what's going on there and it leads into a rather large hall, which we also have no visual access to."

"Gotcha," Lena said, and started walking down the path, followed by their two companions. Their steps were echoing loudly, and the shadows cast by the dim lights were almost ghost-like. Faint humming and buzzing were audible, loud enough to be impossible to ignore but too hushed to be prominent.

The whole place was disquieting. It was obviously brand new. The concrete was freshly polished, and there was not a grain of dust lying around. The place even smelled new, which wasn't exactly comforting Lena, either. Who built this facility, and why?

Lena's communicator emitted a short static noise, followed by someone talking. "Com-check," Hanzo's bodiless voice said. "Tracer, Reinhardt, do you copy?"

"We hear you, Hanzo. Status?"

"Genji tried to bypass some security measures and hot-wired the wrong cables. He was afraid that our radios might have been destroyed. This is not the case."

"And here I thought Genji was our master ninja."

"I never said I was. I am also merely average when it comes to electronics."

"Just teasing you, luv. Say, what's inside the rooms you have access to? Do you see anything interesting on those cameras?"

"We found a storage room filled with sheets of what Genji says is titanium. I don't know how he wants to distinguish titanium from stainless steel in this light, but he insists. There is another room with approximately a million screws, one which contains miles of rolled cables, one with glass planes and so on."

"So, it is a production plant for something" Reinhardt concluded.

"Definitely appears this way" Genji's voice cut in.

"Any idea on what is being built here?"

"No. But it's made from metal," Hanzo said and Lena could basically hear the archer rolling his eyes.

"I don't like this," Tracer replied, "not one bit. Be on your guard."

"Understood."

Tracer, Lúcio and Reinhardt proceeded to walk down the corridor. They cleared multiple rooms on either side of this hall, and they left those rooms as they found them: utterly empty. After the first five completely vacant rooms, they gave up on opening each door like there was something behind it about to attack them. After ten or so more doors, the two agents stopped opening them altogether. The rooms behind them were all the same. Completely empty.

One thing, however, did change. The further they walked down the hallway, the louder and more prominent the whirring background noise got. They were definitely closing in on something. Whatever that was.

"Say, Rein, do you have the same weird feeling I have? Or am I completely paranoid?" Lena asked, but she noticed that her comrade was not walking next to her anymore. She turned around and found him and Lúcio standing a few steps behind her in front of a closed door, staring at the floor right in front of it.

"Oi, what's up?" she asked and hurried back to them. It didn't take her long to figure out where Rein had been staring. The floor was spotless, like it had been the entire time they had walked down the corridor.

But underneath the door, a pool of red liquid was coming forth.

Lena exchanged a glance with Reinhardt, who was moving into position on the right side of the door, with Lúcio standing behind him. Tracer stood on the other side, using her fingers to count down from three. Once she hit the mark, she pushed the door open and quickly ducked out of the way for Reinhardt to charge in.

He stopped two steps into the room and Lena also froze behind him.

The whole room was buzzing, the sound of hundreds of startled flies, all hurriedly interrupting their meal.

The smell inside the room was abhorrent. Decaying flesh was never pleasant, but this felt like one of the worst stenches that ever filled Lena's nostrils.

The lights were dim, but that didn't mean they couldn't see the approximately ten bodies, all hanging from the ceiling like pigs in a macabre slaughter house. The science team. Hung from meat-hooks, upside down, with what little was left of their eviscerated bodies having been riddled with bullets.

Lena quickly ducked out of the small room again, soon followed by Reinhardt and Lúcio. The stench was not bearable, and their faces had paled considerably. Especially the Brazilian musician and medic seemed to have lost all of his chocolate color.

"We found some of the scientists. Not all of them. But... a few. No idea where the rest is." Lena said, pressing a finger to the earpiece of her communicator.

"That is good news. How is their condition?" Hanzo's bodiless voice asked.

"Food for the flies" was Reinhardt's reply, uttered under his breath, his eyes fixed to the clean concrete wall opposite to him. He had seen his fair share of gore and bloodshed in his life as a knight and warrior. That didn't mean it ever got easier. Seeing those scientists, those poor civilians slaughtered, butchered, torn apart and hung from the ceiling like that... it wasn't easy. He didn't want to think about it too much.

"Nothing we can do for them now," Lena stated numbly, sliding her goggles off to rub the image now engraved into her eyes away. "Let's move forward. How are things on your end?"

"Genji just cracked some encrypted files and is downloading them now. Appears to be schematics of some sort. Something is definitely being built here, but other than that, so far nothing interesting. We'll stay in contact."

"Understood. Keep your guard up." Lena replied before terminating the connection. She didn't like the direction this mission was going. Not one bit. Every fiber of her body was telling her that they were very close to discovering something seriously bad. Bad as in not just a room full of corpses reminiscent of Swiss cheese.

"Lúcio, I want you to go back to the entrance and contact Oberst Winterer. Tell him that we found parts of the science team. Handle the extraction of the bodies, once they arrive, ok?"

"Yes, Ma'am!" Lúcio saluted quickly and took off, back to where they all came from.

Oxton and Wilhelm exchanged a brief glance, knowing that both of them were thinking the exact same thing. They didn't need to verbalize the fact; instead, they silently agreed to move on. There was nothing they could do for the scientists anymore.

The two agents carefully moved deeper into the facility, wondering how and why the scientists ended up in that storage room. It was weird. Something didn't fit together here; not at all. There must have been a reason for their brutal murder. But what was it? And why had they been hung from the ceiling? The facility seemed completely abandoned. Not a single soul was here except for the Overwatch agents. Who had put the scientists into that room? There was neither blood nor other evidence that the bodies were carried there. Did that mean the poor souls had been executed in that room? But there were no bullet holes in the walls. It didn't make sense.

As they were walking, both of them lost in their own thoughts, the humming and whirring sounds in the background got more and more prominent. The strange noise was accompanied by a rhythmic metallic smashing sound, similar to a huge metal press in automated forges.

The hallway soon ended in front of a heavy metal bi-parting sliding door, the strange forge-like noise now louder than ever before.

"Alpha, come in please."

"We hear you."

"There is a huge door in front of us, but it's locked."

"I'd say we found something important," Reinhardt said, inspecting the door.

"We are working on it; please be patient for a moment. This is the area we wanted you to inspect. There are no cameras in there."

It took Genji around twenty minutes before he spoke up again.

"Try it now. But be careful, we have no idea what's behind that door."

"As long as it's not even more dead scientists," Reinhardt grumbled, walking up to the huge portal with his energy shield up and running. The two massive metal halves parted and slid open with a loud hissing noise. Lena followed closely behind Reinhardt, looking through the shield, curious what would be on the other side.

They both froze in place, once the metal obstacle gave way and let them see what it had been hiding. Lena's legs refusing to move because of what she saw. Her eyes were wide from shock, her brain not able to make her body move.

What lay before her was nothing other than a gigantic production plant. For Omnics. An illegal Omnium, the largest one Lena had ever seen. Even the few legal ones paled in comparison to the underground complex. Hundreds if not thousands of robots were being assembled in dozens of production lines in the background. Robotic arms were busy holding components for others to weld, sparks dripping or flying all over the place , while huge metal hammers pressed flat metal sheets into specific shapes.

More robots than Lena could have counted.

"Alpha team. We have a problem," Reinhardt said after he found his voice again. He walked two steps into the enormous hall. They were standing on a balcony that wound above and around the entire hall, maybe twenty meters up in the air. It allowed them a vantage on the entire plant, which, itself, was large enough to swallow an entire battleship whole and let it vanish. The heat from the blast furnaces, melting metal for the omnics, was wafting through the hall in waves like fire, and the sound of the welding and stamping was a painful perturbance in the ears.

"We see it through Rein's helmet camera, what's- Ki o tsukete!" Hanzo shouted. His voice was followed by the roaring of a gun.

"Hanzo?!" Tracer yelled but was interrupted.

There was a metallic sound behind Tracer.

She and Reinhardt spun around, and came face first with a certain kind of omnic. Three of them. Their purple paintjob almost as obvious as their profile.

Bastion.

Null Sector.

Lena's mind was racing to find cover, but the way back out of the door was blocked by the bots. Two of them had already transformed into sentry formation. Time slowed down to a fraction of reality. Lena heard Reinhardt yell to get behind his shield as she leaped backwards. She was aware of the blue energy field closing down to the floor, as she skidded behind Rein's shield. While doing so, Lena reached to her back where she grabbed one of her pulse bombs and threw it into the three Bastions.

The explosion shattered them into thousand pieces, before Lena hit the handrail on the balcony with her back. She quickly got up and turned around just to see that there were more Bastion's on the other side of the balcony. Rein's shield was facing the wrong way now.

She wanted to call out for Rein, but the words didn't leave her mouth fast enough.

The next thing she heard was the roaring of multiple Gatling guns, followed by all-numbing pain. She tried to concentrate on her accelerator, trying to use her ability to revert her own time to a few seconds prior, but as she did so, she only felt a painful electrical rush through her body.

Reality around her started to blur and dissolve for but an instant.

She stumbled.

And her world turned dark.

---

-/-

A/N:

"Ah. How long did that take you again, Patate?"

-Amélie you know exactly why I took so long.

"Do I now?"

-You do and you also know whose fault it is.

"..."

-Sorry. I'll make it up to you later.

"Dinner?"

-Yes, dinner. And tell Lena she can come, too.

"Hm. I might like you a little bit after all."

Heh... oh well, I know she does. Whatever. Sorry I kept you waiting for this long again, but life is fucking crazy. Just so you people know, I don't want to take this long, but there are just no other options for me.

I know you all want updates more frequently, but I promise, I am doing the best I can. If you beg for updates in the reviews, all you do is make me feel really guilty. I want to give you more so badly, but I just can't.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed the chapter and if I can find a new, competent, nice Beta-reader, I would be very happy :)

As always, thank you all so very much for all that support. You all are absolute rockstars for me and I still cannot believe that this story has seriously hit the top spot on FFN. Like... wow. How did that happen, I have no idea. I was just messing around and all of a sudden... THANK YOU!

"Patate, can Lena bring Angela along?"

-Uhhh... sure? Oh and get that grin off your face!

"You are so cute when you turn red"

-I'll poison your food, I swear...

---

-/-

Translations:

Gebirgsjäger (German) = (literal: mountain hunters) Wing of the German special forces, specialized on mountain combat

Jagdkommandos (German) = (literal: Hunter commandos) Austrian special forces

Ki o tsukete = (Japanese)= Watch out!