"We will be hated for this. Not only today or tomorrow, but for a long time. Until the truth is revealed and most likely even then. It can't be helped. What you suggest needs to be done. I hate the idea, but I also see the importance. The necessary precautions will be taken according to your specifications. You may proceed." – Lilith Royce, UN General Secretary. Unknown date.
-/-
Mercy was standing in front of her shower after an admittedly rather exhausting day. All she wanted to do was take that shower she has been looking forward to since she helped Fareeha with her therapy – or workout, how the Egyptian preferred – before she would crash into her bed and sleep.
Her day had been too long.
First, she had to treat a couple of burns of varying severity in the morning, even before she could have her vital coffee. Some scientists had almost blown themselves to pieces and of course Mercy was the one who had to patch them up again. Who else would do it? She was the only physician at the Watchpoint.
Then there was Widow, who just causally informed her that she would be off base for the rest of the day, before the ever elegant French assassin simply left. Angela's only option was to sigh and let her go, hoping that dear Amélie would not decide that someone had looked at her the wrong way and was in need of being choked to death. Coming to think of it, Mercy still didn't hear from Amélie. She is alright, no need to worry. She can look out for herself. Probably just needed some time on her own. The doctor argued.
After lunch, she had her own appointment with Dr. Laguardia. The usual questions, the usual problems, the usual suggestions. Mercy didn't need him, she knew what was wrong with her, she knew how it happened, she knew what she was going through. She just wanted to go back to her normal life. She could deal with it on her own, it was what she always did, ever since her parents had been butchered in front of her eyes during the chaos of the first Omnic war.
Angela allowed her lids to flutter shut for a moment, inhaling sharply. It needed all her inner strength to not wipe over her face with the back of her hand, for she still felt the warmth of her parent's blood splashed on to her. It was only in her head. It wasn't there.
The doctor opened her eyes again and noticed that the water under the shower had been running for a while, the glass door of the small cabin open all that time. Shaking her head at her own tentativeness, she reached out under the stream of water. Submerging her hand in the stream of icy water, Angela winced and quickly pulled her hand away. She actually noticed how she took a quick step backward, her whole naked body covered in Goosebumps, as a shiver, cold as death, ran up and down her spine. Mercy hugged her lithe form, before she paused.
"Das ist ja lächerlich!" she whispered to herself.
It was just water.
Mercy frowned and approached the shower again. She could do this, it wasn't that hard. She used to love cold showers. Think about that time. I liked the cold feeling on my skin. It relaxed me. It will relax me again. I just need-
"Attention all medical personnel, this is a category five emergency situation. Attention medical response teams. Emergency squads Alpha, Bravo, Charlie and Delta report to helipad four immediately. Doctor Ziegler, report to helipad four immediately."
The speaker startled Mercy and she jumped away from the shower, rushing into her quarters to grab the next best items of clothing.
"Athena? What is the matter?" she asked, her accent very much apparent, while she struggled to get pants on and not fall over. She completely forgot any kind of underwear, Mercy's mind was solely focused on getting to the helipad as fast as she humanly could. Panties would cost her 20 seconds in which she could be faster at the helipad. 20 seconds in which a life could be saved or lost.
"The team sent on operation Pike's Peak is returning. They are reporting four injured agents, two of them critical." Athena replied calmly.
"Specify!" Angela instructed, hopping into her boots while she was stumbling toward the door, grabbing her white coat.
"Critically injured: Agents Dos Santos and Oxton. Agents Wilhelm and Hanzo Shimada suffered moderate injuries."
Angela's heart skipped a beat when she heard Lena's name, but she didn't allow herself to succumb to panic now. She knew that she was most likely the only person standing in between death and her friends.
"Why am I being informed about this only now?! How long have they been in the air already?" Mercy hissed. She could have been prepared for this, why did no one tell her?
"Austrian officials authorized and implemented the usage of an electromagnetic counter measure against large Omnic activities. Communications have been affected."
"Omnics? What does that have to do with anything?" Mercy sprinted through the corridor leading toward the helipad.
"I am afraid that reliable information concerning this matter is not available at this time."
"Whatever" was all Mercy said as she pushed the doors leading onto the helipad out of her way. The huge Orca shuttle had its engines still running and side door open, two of the emergency teams already busy at work, loading two people onto stretchers. Medics were running around shouting over the noise of the engines, holding on to papers, so the winds caused by the very same engines wouldn't blow them away.
"Doctor Ziegler!" One of them hurried toward her. "Preliminary report ma'am:" he started, his voice surprisingly calm, despite almost running alongside Dr. Ziegler. They were professionals, and their hurried movements didn't mean they were rushing things. They worked fast, but precise. Just the way they were trained. Most of them were taught to work while being bombarded by artillery and shot at by the enemy. They all could keep their calm just because an Orca shuttle was sitting next to them with its massive engines running in standby.
"Lúcio Dos Santos, fractured Arteria carotis communis caused by tangential gunshot wound, field medic applied a compress. Penetrating gunshot wound, between the fourth and fifth Costae verae, left side low, and first and second Costae verae, right side, also low. Bullets appear to have splintered, initial scans show damage to the arteria pulmonaris. Wound foam was applied, stim-cocktail and painkillers, standard issue, 200mg bolus." The man shouted over all the noise from both the engines and the commotion around them, with a deadly seriousness expression. Despite the everything going on, he was speaking loud and clearly, while Mercy bent over Lúcio. The man was lying on his stretcher, barely breathing and hardly alive. There was blood everywhere, his clothes were soaked and even the stretcher he had been placed on was dripping with the dark red liquid. An IV was already hooked into his right arm and another medic held the clear liquid bag, while another one placed an oxygen mask on Lúcio's face. Despite the chaos and the turmoil around her, Mercy kept a calm mind.
She needed to get an overview over the situation before she would make her decisions.
"Oxton?" she asked, her voice sour.
"Right over here." The man who gave her the run down on Dos Santos said. "Doesn't look good, we couldn't get a clear reading on her..." he said, and this time there was actually some emotion in his otherwise calm voice, something akin to worry.
"What do you mean, you couldn't-" Mercy stopped her words when she saw Tracer, lying on the stretcher. She was bleeding profusely and had horrible bruises all over her face, but that was all nothing. The worst part was.
She flickered.
A blue-ish light kept blurring her back and forth, making it seem like she was repeating movements, or doing multiple at once. The blood, pooling on her stretcher seemed to flow back into her body just as much as it seemed to pour out.
Angela's face lost all color.
"What about the other two wounded?"
"Minor, both are able to walk." The medic replied.
"Angela!" A voice called and through the mass of people Morrison appeared at her side.
"Not now Jack!" she hissed, turning back to the medic "Alright." she nodded. "Re-route Lúcio to Gibraltar central hospital immediately. Teams Alpha and Bravo will stay with him. Give him another shot of stims, 100mg bolus." Mercy ordered. She was the head of the medical department after all. Deciding things was a large part of her job. And she just decided that she had two patients in dire need of attention. Lúcio was on the verge of death and so was Lena. But she could only help one of them. And where Lúcio's injuries were very severe, they were also rather traditional. Any hospital with a trauma surgeon could perform the necessary procedures. Which begged the question why he was brought back here, but that was a thought for later. There were not enough surgeons at the Watchpoint in Gibraltar to treat both Lúcio and Tracer at the same time, yet they both needed to be treated immediately.
"As you were!" Morrison shouted, and the medic froze. Morrison grabbed Mercy by her shoulders, looking sternly at her. "Why do you think I decided to bring Lúcio here and not put him in a hospital in Austria, Angela? We can't bring him to a normal hospital. It may not look or feel the part, but Overwatch is still very much illegal. We can't risk being exposed!"
Mercy's eyes flared up in a wave of anger. She was close to being furious. Did he seriously risk Lúcio's life out of fear of being exposed? That kind of sacrificial thinking was what made her hate the military.
"You should have thought about that before you expanded Overwatch. We don't have enough surgeons, Jack! It's only me! I can't perform surgery on both of them at the same time and they both need treatment now! I'd rather he ends up in prison than in a graveyard!" she actually hissed, pushing Morrison's hands off her. "Now get out of the way!" she turned back to the medic again "You have your orders!"
"Yes, ma'am!" the man replied and got his team to move.
Lena wasn't as lucky as Lúcio was. Not that it was in any way correct to think of either of them as lucky given their situation. For Lena, there were only two people in the world who would be able to prevent her from dying... or even worse. She needed both of them.
"Team Delta, you are with me. Team Charlie, you see to the other wounded." Mercy ordered loudly and clearly. The people around her acknowledge the command and started to split, two of them grabbing the stretcher Tracer was placed on and pushing it away from the shuttle. Mercy spotted Hanzo and Reinhardt a little to the side. They were both roughed up, but seemingly ok. Lúcio was already back inside the Orca with a multitude of medics working on him.
"Get a move on" Mercy said, pointing at the entrance into the Watchpoint. They needed to get Lena on the operating table as soon as possible. While they pushed her away the Orca closed its doors with a loud hydraulic whirr before it lifted off with a roar of its mighty engines.
"Athena, prepare operation room two immediately and inform Winston at once. Tracer's chronal accelerator has been damaged, she is fading in and out of our time-space continuum again. He has to be ready to perform an emergency surgery in three minutes." Angela instructed as she was running next to the stretcher, now being pushed down the aisles of the Watchpoint and toward the operating room.
"Of course, Doctor Ziegler." A short pause indicated that Athena was simultaneously informing Winston about the situation. "He will be there momentarily" the AI replied.
"Good." Angela acknowledged, before turning to one of the medics "Vitals on Tracer?"
"Sorry ma'am, we can't get a reading. She seems to drift through time. Her vitals are all over the place." A woman replied, while she desperately tried to hook an IV into Lena's arm. It kept falling through her skin with every blurry flicker of her slender body.
"Scheiße. Verdammte Scheiße." Mercy uttered.
-/-
Widowmaker was sitting on a chair in front of the operating room, her body numb all over. She thanked the heavens for Zenyatta, because if he wouldn't have helped her come to an understanding of her past, she would have lost her mind by now. It would have been too much. She would have murdered the next best person who would have passed her, giving her a strange look.
No matter how hard Amélie tried, she couldn't get the image of Lena out of her mind. Carried by Reinhardt, blood pouring out of her body. The chronal accelerator torn in half, the light flickering periodically and Lena's form with it. She vanished for a moment before she appeared again. Every few seconds.
She felt something grip at her heart and squeeze tightly, a feeling that didn't leave Amélie since the moment she had seen Lena in such a state.
That was how long ago?
Widow didn't know.
Time was all the same to her. She was only sitting in the corridor, waiting. Completely detached from reality, not acknowledging anybody, not even realizing anyone was here in the first place. She hadn't even noticed a nurse asking her if she wanted some coffee a few hours ago, the input didn't even make it to Amélie's brain. It was cancelled out way before.
Her skin felt numb on the outside and like it was on fire on the inside. She was cold and at the same time she was close to breaking a sweat. Her mind was like a broken record, repeating the same thought over and over again. Please be alright, chérie, please be alright. Don't leave me, please! Please be alright! It echoed in her head, while she stared at the door in front of her with lifeless eyes, like she could force her will through them and to where Lena was. There was nothing she could do otherwise. The fate of her beloved one was entirely in the hands of Mercy and Winston.
All that Widow was capable of now was the waiting game. She used to be good at this, patiently lying in wait, unmoving until she had the target in her sights. It had never bothered her for she had always been very patient. But not right now, not right here, in this situation. Widowmaker dreaded every painfully slow passing second while she was left with no other choice but to wait.
For news.
For that damn door do finally open.
For anything on Tracer.
Somewhere in the back of her head, through all the fog that was the all numbing worry and pain of what might have happened to her girlfriend, lover, center of her universe, Widow also plotted what she would do next. This was someone's fault and it surely wasn't Tracer's. There was some talking to do.
She waited.
How long, she did not know and it didn't matter either. She would wait for however long it would take, her eyes fixed on the door into the operating room. Anyone who would have dared to look into those yellow orbs would have noticed how dull they seemed, how they lost their sharp sting and how there was nothing but pain behind them.
But the only person who walked past was McCree and he only glanced briefly in her direction. Their eyes met for but an instant before the cowboy walked past her and vanished behind a corner. Widow glared in the direction he left. A real friend would have stayed. A real friend would have waited. Was his hatred for her enough that he apparently decided against staying? He had paused for a moment, as if he was pondering the idea of staying. It was obvious he wanted to check on Tracer. It was also obvious he didn't want to wait next to Amélie. The assassin shook her head, deciding that the Cowboy was a moron. She would have stayed even if he was already there before her.
Amélie waited. Her skin tingly all over and the tips of her fingers unusually numb.
It seemed like an eternity and each second she died a thousand deaths.
And then, just as she thought that she might be waiting for all eternity, her prayers were heard.
Finally, the door moved.
First Amélie thought she might be seeing things, but the door actually opened carefully, and out came a completely exhausted Mercy. Her movements were slow and tired. She was pale, and had huge dark rings under her eyes. She looked at least 20 years older in that moment. Spent and exhausted. Frail, like a gush of wind would cause her to fall into pieces. She tried to put her hands into her pockets while the door closed behind her, but her hands were shaking so badly, she didn't manage to hit the opening. After the third try she just gave up with an awkward sigh of total defeat.
Widowmaker shot up from her place and almost teleported toward Mercy, standing in front of her with a stern, emotionless expression.
Oh please, please, please let Tracer be alright. Angela is just exhausted, she is just that. Please, she did not fail, Mercy cannot fail. She mustn't.
"Oh. Amélie." Angela whispered with a small voice as she looked up and noticed the former assassin standing in front of her, her lips pressed together tightly and her eyes narrowed expectantly.
"Is Lena..." Amélie asked and time seemed to freeze completely just like the temperature inside the hallway. She didn't dare to utter the next word. Alive?
A second ticked past.
Another one.
Mercy's expression was blank.
"Have you been waiting the entire time?" she asked, blinking twice, her eyes tired and dull.
Widow frowned for a moment, how was this important? "Oui, I have." She replied quickly, before grabbing Angela at her shoulders and shaking her a little. "How is Lena, is she alright? Tell me she didn't..." Again Amélie didn't dare to speak further, as if asking out loud would somehow change the answer.
"Hu? Lena?" Angela asked, the question only now proceeding into her brain, before she seemed to finally apprehend what she was being asked. Her eyes snapped open as realization struck. "Entschuldigung!" she squealed silently, a short flash lighting up her eyes with new life. "She is alright!" Angela exclaimed, before the light dimmed out again. Her voice returned to betray her utter exhaustion. "Don't worry, she will be fine." Angela whispered, taking in a deep breath before continuing. "It was a close call, but she will survive." She said, and apparently was even more relieved than fatigued; however that was possible. She felt bad for not keeping up, but Mercy was so drained from her energy reserves, she couldn't think straight anymore. Hardly unexpected after performing surgery for 20 plus hours.
She was all the more surprised when she was yanked forward and into Widowmaker's strong embrace, the other woman pressing their bodies tightly together.
"Oh, merci beaucoup! Oh, merveilleuse femme! Tu es la meilleur!" Amélie whispered, looking deeply into the eyes of Mercy for but a moment. Angela couldn't reply anything before the assassin leaned in and kissed Mercy hard on the mouth, lifting her up into the air in the process and whirling her around once.
When Widow let go of Angela again, the poor doctor was beet red in her face from all the blood that shot into her cheeks. Her heart was hamming wildly against her chest and Angela was too tired to start rationalizing her body's response to the sudden unexpected intimacy.
Amélie didn't even seem to realize what she just did as she continued like nothing happened. "I want to see her!"
Mercy blinked, nervously rubbing the back of her neck while trying to re-discover her ability of coherent speech. She awkwardly cleared her throat, averting her blue eyes to escape Amélie's gaze. "Tomorrow. She is still knocked out. Winston is making some more calibrations to her accelerator."
"When?"
"Just come to my office tomorrow morning. You'll be the first to see her, promised." Angela said, the blush on her cheeks rapidly vanishing again. She was done for. Standing in the operating stand for as long as she did took its toll on her.
Amélie seemed to think about that for a moment, but smiled ever so faintly. "Oui. If you say that's best." She replied and Angela only nodded.
"If you don't mind" she was interrupted by a heavy yawn "I'd like to go to bed now. I can tell you everything tomorrow, once I slept." Mercy said, turning to leave and proceeding to more stagger than walk down the corridor. The doctor needed rest, so much was obvious.
"I will walk you to your room, mon chou" Amélie decided and put an arm around Mercy, who was actually having problems to walk on her own without stumbling. After the third time of her almost falling, Widow rolled her eyes and effortlessly scooped the doctor up in her arms, carrying her bridal style.
"I can walk." Mercy mumbled tiredly, but didn't resist being carried at all. Her legs were hurting and felt like they might just rot off her body, she was struggling to keep her eyelids open and felt like falling into a coma any moment now. She knew that she couldn't walk anymore.
"You can't. You can barely stand. Now shut up, I won't murder you in your sleep." Widow replied with a smirk while Angela's head slowly sunk on the assassin's cool shoulder, the doctor's consciousness slowly slipping. There was only the slow rhythmic sound of Amélie's heels on the cold concrete floor, only her scent of fresh ocean water in Angela's nose and an air of unwavering confidence and determination radiating off the former Talon agent. Widowmaker was still a very much dangerous, deadly and ruthless individual, yet she was not scary to Angela anymore. She had become a most trusted ally. A friend. Cold and brutal in a way, true.
But also beautiful. Caring toward those who Amélie seemed to consider her family. It was a strange moment of clarity for Mercy amid her grueling exhaustion. Of course Widow wouldn't kill her in her sleep, Angela knew.
She whispered something, not particularly aware that she voiced that thought and neither that Widowmaker noticed. But she did. And it made the emotionless assassin genuinely smile. Amélie looked down on the doctor, but she was already fast asleep in her arms.
First of all, Amélie would tuck Mercy in and see to it that she was comfortable. This wouldn't take long and then there would still be time to visit someone else.
For some... talking.
A spark of anger ignited Widowmaker's yellow eyes and her pacing sped up.
-/-
"German high chancellor Constance Adenauer has announced a full cooperation with Austria in regard to dealing with what many already describe as a new Omnic Crisis. A meeting between Adenauer and her Austrian colleague Sebastian Kurz has been scheduled in Berlin for early Wednesday morning. Subject of their meeting is going to be the strategy of their joint efforts against the Omnic menace, following yesterday's tragic events. An illegal Omnium has been discovered and subsequently engaged in combat by a special task group. Official statements are yet to be made, but from well informed circles it is said that of the special operations battalion deployed, approximately 250 soldiers were killed in action and roughly a hundred more wounded. The same sources leaked that a squadron of former Overwatch agents might have been involved in the shut-down of the production plant. If any one of these heroes is among the casualties is not yet known. To shut down the facility a tactical EMP charge has been activated, supposedly deactivating the bulk of the Omnic forces. Authorities still haven't given the all-clear signal. Protests connected to the new Overwatch movement, demanding a re-activation of the world peace-keeping force have yet again been met with silence from the United Nations, just like there was no statement regarding the most recent events in Austria-"
Morrison grumbled as he switched the TV off with an angry wave of his hand, tossing the remote onto the couch in his office room. The mission had been an utter disaster, a catastrophe if there ever was one. Just when he thought things couldn't possibly get any more difficult.
Omnics. He had thought about a lot of possibilities, but to find an illegal Omnium in Austria was none of them. A few strays, ok. Talon base, sure. Terrorists, maybe. But not one of the largest Omniums he was aware of. Everything which could have gone wrong, went wrong.
Eight hours ago, he received a call from the hospital in Gibraltar.
Lúcio dos Santos didn't survive surgery. The uranium splinters in his body had poisoned his vital organs too quickly and the doctors were not able to remove them more quickly.
The medic and musician was dead. And it was too late for Angela to use her resurrection technology, too much time had already passed and the head of Overwatch's medical department had been still performing surgery herself at the time.
At least Tracer was over the worst. She'd live. Morrison felt a tug of guilt when he caught himself thinking about the consequences for the mission first, before he thought about Tracer's wellbeing. It wasn't that he didn't care. He was just concentrating on the next steps. He was focused. Too focused.
He needed a drink.
It wasn't supposed to happen as the telephone decided differently in just the same moment, informing the Commander about an incoming call. He grabbed the device and pressed it against his ear, leaning back in his chair.
"Yes?" he sighed with a huff.
"Have you seen the news?" a deep voice asked and Morrison gripped the phone tighter.
"Have I seen the news? Is that all you have to fucking say, Reyes? Huh? I was there, you moron. Was that what you meant when you said there was something big coming our way? You couldn't have been a tiny bit more specific, could you? You can't possibly think that I believe for even a second that you didn't know that someone built a huge illegal Omnium!" Morrison grumbled angrily.
"Of course I knew." Reaper replied. "Don't worry, it's under control."
Morrison clenched the phone in his hand so tightly, that he decided to put the thing back into the station and switch it to speaker to prevent squashing the device in his hands.
"Under control? Under fucking control? Are you crazy? One of my field medics is dead, Reyes and another agent barely survived. Not just anyone, too, we almost lost Tracer. Do you understand what I am saying? Do you understand what it would have meant for our cause if she would have been killed today?"
"You are too caught up in possibilities. She wasn't killed."
Morrison inhaled deeply. "If we had lost her, we would have lost Widow. If we had lost Widow, it would most likely have been game over for us. You know that. We need to be more careful!" He rubbed over his eyes with his thumbs "Besides, as I said, the mission wasn't without casualties."
"Such is war." Was the cold reply. "Soldiers die."
"It would have been avoidable. I am always upfront with you, am I not? It wouldn't have hurt you to give me a bit more intel, would it?" he asked bitterly.
"I know this is hard for you, brother. Keep a calm mind, we are almost there. The bigger picture-"
"Don't you dare to start talking about the bigger picture now. You and I, we are in this together. I give you information. You give me information. That's how it works. Yet right now it is very hard for me to not feel betrayed by you withholding crucial information. Brother, you know that-"
Morrison abruptly paused, interrupted by a noise behind him. He saw a shadow moving in the corner of his eyes.
It was too late.
He felt a cold shudder run down his spine before he heard her.
"A part of me almost wishes I didn't hear that." A voice, soft as silk but still dripping with venom stated with an alarming calmness. She moved as fast as light and just as soundless when a thin wire flashed in the light of the room as it was quickly brought over Morrison's head. The soldier had no chance to react fast enough.
Before he knew it, the thin metal was already digging into this throat, while his assailant was standing firmly behind him, clearly intending to choke him to death. She didn't make a sound the whole time, like a shadow of death she moved and Morrison understood why everyone feared her. Despite his genetically sharpened senses, and his superior strength and stamina, he didn't even see her coming. Before he knew it, she was already strangling him. He had no idea where she even had the wire from and right now it was not really his top concern. Had he seen her face, he would have seen the blank expression on Widowmaker's face, not betraying a single emotion, except for her eyes which were glowing with murderous intent.
"Widow! Stop!" Morrison choked, wrapping his fingers around the wire and trying to pull it away from his throat. "It's... not what... you think!" he tried to force out, his face red and his eyes already swollen. He tried to get out of Widowmaker's iron grip, but the assassin was too experienced to let this happen. She had taken countless lives like this and while it wasn't what she had planned to do when she silently entered the office through the balcony, it was what she would do now. Traitor. Morrison worked with Reaper. He sent Tracer into that hell where she had been injured. It was his fault. That was enough reason to kill him.
"Morrison!" Reaper's voice shouted over the phone speaker, but the Soldier could not reply anymore, fighting to not lose consciousness. Reaper was able to hear the struggle, he could hear the assassin talk, meaning that he was most likely on speaker. It was worth a shot. "Widow, stop this!" he said loudly.
"Ferme-la! You're next!" she hissed "Dragging Lena into this was a mistake. I should have known better than to trust you." She whispered.
"Morrison! Grab her shoulder! Do it!" Reaper urged his friend, hoping that he was still alive. He waited for a moment in which he hoped that Morrison could do what he asked of him.
And the Commander did try, he reached behind his back and tried to get a hold of Widowmaker's shoulder, but the experienced assassin just ducked away under his arm, spun around and whirled him around, tossing him onto the floor. Quicker than any human should have been able to move, she was on his back, her pointy knee digging into his flesh, as she chocked him again with the wire.
"Can't..." Morrison pressed out, his vision already getting blurry and the heat in his head rising, like it was about to explode.
This was it, Morrison thought. He was going to die at the hands of an extremely pissed off assassin for a crime he did not commit... At least not the way Widow thought.
Moments passed which felt like a whole eternity before Morrison thought he heard a silent whooshing sound.
That couldn't be. He wouldn't...
But then Reaper spoke up again and this time not via the phone. "I need you to do me a favor." He said, unusually calm for the black clad killer.
There was a second of delay.
Suddenly the iron grip around his throat was gone as was the painful knee pressed into his back. Morrison desperately gasped for air, the cooling feeling of fresh oxygen entering his lungs a welcome sensation.
He rolled over to his back to see what the hell just happened.
Reaper was standing right behind Widowmaker, who wore a blank expression, her body unmoving and her eyes fixed into the distance.
"Whatever you desire, master." Was her hollow reply, while Morrison tried to get up, still gasping for air.
Breathing heavily, he couldn't help but stare at Widowmaker. The assassin just stood there. Unmoved. Unfazed. Like she was a living doll.
"What did you do?" Morrison asked with a heavy frown on his face, waving his hand up and down in front of Widow's face. She didn't react whatsoever. "What just happened?"
"I hoped that would still work." Was the almost sighing reply from Reaper. "If that crazy bitch of a doctor would have tampered with her too much, you'd be screwed."
"What did you do to her?" Morrison urged.
"It's a voice command. Talon uses it on most of its agents so they stay... loyal to the cause."
"What?" Morrison spat, his eyes snapping to his comrade, who merely shrugged. He lived in a fucked up world and forgot how to care about all the craziness he witnessed.
"We need to be very careful now with what we tell her."
-/-
The bar at the Watchpoint was untypically busy, only a few of the Agents were missing, namely those who had been too severely injured during operation Pike's Peak and those who tried their best to save them. Namely Tracer, Lúcio, Mercy and Winston. Everyone else was in the bar. A random occurrence, everyone seemed to have difficulties sleeping and felt the need to socialize. People just showed up one after another, some even in their pajamas.
Reinhardt was tending to the bar, pouring various generously sized beverages for his comrades. His head wound was properly patched up now and he had been told to rest, but he really didn't see what harm pouring drinks could possibly do.
Hanzo, Genji, and Zenyatta were sitting around a table, talking about whatever it was they found interesting. Zarya was telling war-stories from Russia about her uncle Misha, who must have been even larger than she was and who apparently carried a Gatling-gun he liked to call Sasha. Zarya told the stories about her uncle with such detail and humor, everyone listening seemed captivated, laughing from time to time. It served as a good distraction, taking people's minds off the events of the last hours.
Torbjörn and Symmetra were sitting at the bar with Reinhardt, Torbjörn drinking a beer from a pitcher the size of his head while Satya was sipping a flashy cocktail from a small glass. She didn't fancy alcohol too much, but a small amount of quality liquor was acceptable.
"So," Reinhardt asked pouring himself a nice glass of wheat beer. He knew how to do that properly. Before he filled the glass completely, he stopped, whirling the bottle around a few times to stir up the yeast. Only then did he pour the rest into the glass, giving the golden liquid a dull color. "I have been meaning to ask. How is your work with that huge killer machine in the basement coming along? And I do mean the one made from metal. Not the purple one walking around base."
Torbjörn rolled his eyes with a sigh, not wanting to go to that particular discussion about Amélie again. Reinhardt didn't believe him. They had seen different things from different perspectives. One day he would see.
"The progress is satisfactory" Satya stated. "The unit's core-code has apparently re-written itself into a yet to be discovered specification. I am inclined to ask for Zenyatta's help in communicating with the Bastion unit, for the unit seems to get easily side-tracked by the most mundane of things, but my... colleague here is not in favor."
"I'll be damned if I cannot figure that out without the help of another tin-can." He muttered.
"Time appears to be of the essence. You should put your pride aside." Symmetra stated, sipping her drink.
Torbjörn huffed "There is something on your dress." He said.
"No. There isn't." She said with an air of arrogance surrounding her.
"Pfff... who is too proud now?" Torbjörn muttered.
Reinhardt laughed loudly. "Ha! I only asked a question, no need for you to start arguing! You two sound like you are married for decades."
Torbjörn snorted, and picked up his pitcher to take a huge gulp from it. Reinhardt knew he was happily married with more kids than he cared counting.
Symmetra however actually burned up. "Don't be ridiculous." She uttered, turning away.
That was when someone hit a spoon onto a glass. It took a moment or two for everyone to quiet down, for Zarya to stop her re-telling of the Omnic war in Russia, for Hanzo to stop talking about whatever it was he was talking about and for Reinhardt to turn his attention to whoever it was demanding it.
It was Dr. Giuseppe Laguardia. The psychologist. He cleared his throat carefully, not looking particularly happy to be here in the moment.
"Good evening." He said with a sour voice. "I am very sorry to disturb you all on such an eventful day when you are all obviously trying to find peace again and calm down, but unfortunately I am the bearer of bad news." He awkwardly cleared his throat. "I am sorry to inform you all that Lúcio dos Santos has unfortunately succumbed to his injuries tonight. Radiation poisoning made all attempts to help him futile."
Dead silence spread in the bar and Dr. Laguardia was forced to look into the faces of deeply shocked and hurt people. Battle hardened warriors they might have been, but they were also humans, who had lost a friend. Lúcio had been very popular. He made people laugh and feel welcome. He was very likeable. Honest and upfront. A good friend, Laguardia supposed.
"I know the bonds of comrades can be very strong. Should anyone of you feel the need to talk, you can naturally always seek me out." He said, waiting for a moment longer.
Someone pushed a chair back, the sound almost deafening compared to the silence in the bar. Light footsteps on the floor followed as rushed out of the bar.
-/-
Widowmaker sucked in a sharp breath. She wasn't sure what was more ridiculous, the whole story that Morrison and Reyes had been telling her or that she actually believed them.
Yet it made sense.
In a very twisted way.
Harsh measures for harsh times she supposed.
"I will do what you ask of me." She finally stated, her voice icy and devoid of any emotion, ignoring the heavy sigh of both Reaper and Morrison. She was not sure if she was going to regret this later. A decision needed to be made and she supposed it was better playing along to keep tabs on them than leaving them to their own affairs. It meant there would not be any nasty surprises later on, she supposed. Fixing Morrison with a warning glare, Widow continued. "Under one condition."
"We are listening" Morrison replied, leaning back on his chair, while Reaper had decided to occupy the couch for the time being. It was good that Athena's sensors had been shut off inside Morrison's office, or otherwise the AI would have surely noticed Reaper appearing out of thin air to save the commander.
"I want back into the field. And not just anywhere. Wherever you send Oxton, you send me too." Widowmaker's golden eyes pierced through Morrison who seemed to think about the request for a moment. In fact, he was pondering if it was wise to press for a reason why she wanted to accompany Tracer. It probably wasn't. Besides, they knew enough to make an educated guess. No need to invade into Widowmaker's privacy and make her even more furious than she already was.
Her anger was understandable.
Still, it would have been nice if it could have been avoided.
"That is agreeable." Morrison nodded.
"A good decision, little spider." Reaper chuckled.
Amélie hissed a very sharp "Go to hell!" as she walked past him on her way to the door. A moment before she reached it she turned back around and looked over her shoulder again.
"Oh, and one more thing. If you two ever dare to use the command again, or even think about it? You better make sure I never snap out of it again." she glared at Reaper with burning hatred, for he knew exactly what she was talking about "Because when I do, I will gut you both with a dull knife before I force feed you your own bowels."
-/-
A/N:
Alrighty guys and gals, that's it for this chapter.
I wanted to thank you all for your support and kind words. You folk are too kind to me, it really means a lot to me.
Now if I only had any idea where Widow went... I hope she didn't kill someone again... oh boy. Better search for her.
I'll see you lot in the next chapter. Which I'll have to write first. So, I make no promises when it will arrive.
Special thanks to Jfb715 for the amazing help!
o7
E82
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-/-
Translations:
Das ist doch lächerlich = (German) This is ridiculous.
Arteria carotis communis = (Latin, medical) carotid
Costae verae = (Latin, medical) ribs, literal: true ribs.
arteria pulmonaris = (Latin, medical) Pulmonary artery, artery which carries blood from the heart to the lungs.
Scheiße = (German) shit.
Verdammte Scheiße = (German) fucking shit.
Entschuldigung = (German) Sorry
Oh, merci beaucoup! Oh, merveilleuse femme! Tu es la meilleur = (French) Oh thank you so much! Oh, you wonderful woman! You're the best!
mon chou = (French) sweetheart.
Ferme-la = (French) shut up