Video log #15663, cameras 143, 144 and 146 – infirmary. Athena's deep file vault. Not accessible.
"I can't take it any longer, Angela. It has to stop, alright?" Widowmaker stood in front of Dr. Ziegler's desk, her hands placed on the surface while she was leaning forward, looking intensely at the doctor.
"We've been there before, it's not safe to remove your inhibitors yet. I still don't fully grasp how they work exactly. It could do god knows what to your brain." Angela replied carefully. The expression on her face was one of concern.
Widowmaker leaned further over the desk "Oh, but letting me run around with a chip in my head that makes me obey orders is safe, oui? Do you have any idea how much it takes to resist that chip?"
Mercy tilted her head a little. "Amélie, why is this suddenly so important? We talked plenty about this and you always said it didn't matter. No one gives you orders at Gibraltar."
There was a long pause in which Widowmaker looked away. "I just don't like it, ok? Is that so hard to understand? How would you like it if you had that chip in your head?"
"I know it's not easy for you." It was obvious how much Angela didn't like where this conversation was heading. She of course understood her patient, but she had to make sure that Widowmaker wouldn't be harmed by her efforts to undo what Talon did to her. "But it's important to not rush things. I'm concerned about your health, ok?" Mercy said, being as compassionate as always as she reached forward to give Widow's hand a quick reassuring squeeze. Which did look a little awkward, given the fact that her hand had been placed firmly on the marble surface of Mercy's desk.
"Not rush things. I remember someone half cutting her arm off to get rid of a tattoo. Wise and well thought out, Dr. Ziegler."Widowmaker mocked.
"Touché." Mercy sighed, adjusting some pencils on her desk in a way that seemed marginally less bothersome to the doctor than before. "Alright, here is what we are going to do. We'll make another scan of your brain and I will try to find out as much as I possibly can about what those inhibitor chips in your brain are doing exactly. Next week we'll start slowly programming nanoprobes to replace them one by one. This way we can control the damage should something go wrong."
"Thank you." Widowmaker sighed.
"Don't thank me yet." Mercy said carefully, rubbing over her forehead. "It's a very risky procedure and one that will take time. We'll go slowly."
Widowmaker nodded obviously not at all happy with Mercy's reply. "It'll have to do."
-/-
Tactical Command Center, office of Commander Jack Morrison, approximately three hours later
Morrison had no idea that his overall rather quiet and uneventful day was about to take a steep dive into the proverbial shit. Then again, he probably was halfway expecting something to go wrong at some point. It wasn't even time for lunch yet and nothing important or worth noting happened so far. Nothing. There wasn't even something as petty as someone spilling coffee.
If his long years as commander of Overwatch had taught him one thing and one thing alone, it would have been that there was no such thing as a quiet day. It simply didn't exist. Each day came with a fixed dose of bullshit, usually spread out evenly over the course of 24 hours. The longer it took for him to be confronted with the first sign of said load of cattle excrements, the more severe the event usually was on his shit-o-meter.
Morrison knew that the peaceful hours of his day came to a rather abrupt end in the exact same second the glass door into his office flew open with a bang, giving way to a 5'4" short war machine, better known as Tracer. The look on her face could optimistically be described as royally pissed and the Commander prepared to buckle up in his chair. Not that it came with any seatbelts, but metaphorically speaking.
It didn't take a rocket scientist to know what Oxton could have possibly been upset about. The list of things Morrison did which Lena would even care about enough in the first place to feel the need of talking to him about were easily counted on one hand. With four amputated fingers.
He was well aware of that.
The commander should have known better than to think that Widowmaker would be capable of not telling her girlfriend anything about what she was doing. Realistically it was hardly possible to keep everything a secret. She fancied Lena enough that the assassin had almost killed him after Austria. Widow was a woman of absolute extremes. She was like an overly aggressive guard dog in many ways. There was no way she'd ever harm a hair on Lena's head, but if someone decided they had a problem with Lena, Widow would tear them apart. Something he remembered all too well. That was a kind of loyalty Morrison could not help but respect. Widowmaker put her partner before anything else. Family must always come first, a philosophy he had mostly taken from Reaper, since the commander himself had no family of his own.
Morrison just hoped that Widowmaker had refrained from telling Lena the whole story about the UN and the Petras act. If she had told her about killing Volskaya and secretly working for him now, he could deal with that. It was simply a matter of convincing Tracer that he needed Widow's talent for hunting down Talon. Which wasn't even a lie. It was hardly a secret, most of his agents were in the field against Talon operatives anyway. The difference was their goal. The way they worked.
The question was, could he adequately convince one pigheaded Lena Oxton of that? It wasn't like he'd lie to her. He would just not tell her the whole truth. The problem was that Tracer was stubborn as a donkey and a lot smarter than what was good for her. A quality he usually appreciated greatly.
He'd have to wait and see, since Oxton had already stomped over from the door to his desk.
"Commander." Tracer hissed. Which was in itself so rare that most people didn't know Lena was even capable of doing anything remotely reminiscent of hissing, but when she did, it was the sound of pure venom. You usually knew exactly that you were about to receive the shit end of the stick.
Morrison leveled his view on his subordinate and sighed. "What can I do for you, Agent Oxton?" he asked, feigning ignorance and keeping his calm. The angry spark in Lena's eyes was a cause for mild concern.
"Permission to speak freely?" she forced out. Morrison had to give her credit that she was willing to follow protocol until this point, because even a blind man would have seen that the woman was seething. Any more and there would have been steam coming out of her ears.
"You'll do so anyway, so granted."
The words haven't even fully left his mouth before Tracer exploded. "What the hell is going on? Why are you sending Amélie on secret assassination missions? With all due respect, Sir, but have you lost your mind? You can't just send her on missions to kill random people!"
Morrison blinked. "You aren't supposed to know that." He stated, deciding it was best to keep her focused on this part.
"Do you hold me for a fool, Commander? Do you? Who do you think has to fix the psychological stress your assignments have caused for her, hm?" Tracer pointed at her face. "This girl. Me. I do. I demand some answers why you deem it necessary to cause my girlfriend such emotional distress!" Tracer snarled.
Now that one was actually new. Had Morrison not known long before, he would have been surprised. He had heard that Lena decided to make a little public announcement in front of everyone this morning, but didn't pay it much mind.
"Your girlfriend, Agent?" he asked, pretending to be surprised.
"My girlfriend of quite some time, Commander. Is that a problem to you, Sir?" Tracer hissed, somehow managing to let sir sound like an insult.
Morrison let out a long and heavy sigh. What was it with people always thinking that he'd be opposed to this relationship, or that relationship or whatever else. As long as it didn't affect their work performance, he couldn't care less. Fraternization rules? Ridiculous. "Lady Lacroix is an adult woman, as are you. I have no right to judge."
"Good." Tracer stated. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd like some answers, Morrison. I trusted you with my life. But lately I can't help but get the feeling that you're doing some funny things. What's going on? What you are using Amélie for," Lena spat the word out like it was bitter, "reminds me an awful lot of Talon. Secret assassinations? Have we sunk so far already?"
That had struck a nerve in Morrison. That Tracer, one of his best and most valued agents, would express a loss of trust in him was not to be taken lightly. It was not to be underestimated and something which had to be fixed. Also, he hadn't thought she'd go for the morale part of everything and draw some painful comparisons between the enemy and his tactics. Still, he had to play a role here.
"Agent Oxton, no matter how much I appreciate your work and value as one of the best field agents I have ever had the honor of working with, I am not at liberty to disclose the exact reasons, proceedings and motivations of top secret missions to you." Morrison stated firmly.
To her own surprise, Lena managed to not roll her eyes. "I'm not asking you to disclose top secret information to me. I never once asked about any details before, did I? All I want to know is why you're sending my girlfriend out to kill people. And I want you to allow her to speak to me about it. Because it's breaking her apart. I don't know why you think it's ok to put her back to duty in such a fashion, but I really want to believe you have a reason. Otherwise I'm sure you wouldn't go past Dr. Ziegler's explicit recommendations regarding Amélie's mental state. I hate to say it like this, but she isn't stable, Morrison."
He should have known better than to assume that Tracer had no idea about what Angela recommended to him regarding Widowmaker's mental and physical health. This wasn't going where he expected at all. The problem was that Lena had already dropped a hint or two about his trustworthiness. He couldn't afford to lose one of his best agent's trust in him now. Then again, he couldn't tell Tracer too much either, because he could never be sure who was playing for which team. A very alarming thought suddenly hit him. How close had Tracer gotten to the enemy? How close had she gotten to Talon? He forced the thought out of his head. It was ridiculous, he knew for sure. There was no question where Lena Oxton's loyalties were. Not the shadow of a doubt. He would not allow his own paranoia to destroy that.
"All I can tell you is, that Lady Lacroix decided to participate in this endeavor on her own free will. It was her choice." Morrison said, hoping that it would serve to show that he didn't force Widow to do anything. Well, apart from forcing her to not strangle him to death. But that was Reaper and not him.
Tracer's eyelid twitched. She'd murder him. She knew it. She'd murder him any moment now. "That's it?"
Morrison sighed heavily and leaned forward on his desk, folding his hands over each other. "Alright Lena, let's lay it on the line." He pinched the bridge of his nose, not completely certain if telling Lena was the best idea he ever had. Then again, what choice did he really have? It wasn't like Oxton would just give up. She'd dig around and that digging would involve some questioning of Widowmaker. Sure, Widow promised she wouldn't tell Lena, but he had no idea how long that promise would hold up against Lena trying to get what she wants. No, he was better off giving her something, this way he could at least control how much and which information she'd have.
"You know we are hunting Talon."
"We have done little else in the past years, have we now?" Tracer replied with a shrug that said no shit Sherlock.
"True, but what Widowmaker is currently doing for me is a little different. So far, we have tried, more or less successfully, to deny Talon critical supplies, place fake intelligence or sabotage their missions. That's not what Lacroix is doing. She's on a dedicated kill shot mission. Elimination of high value Talon targets. Her only goal is to find and eliminate the instigators and collaborators of Talon. I don't think I need to explain why took her up on the offer. Her skills as a marksman are above and beyond anything we have ever seen at Overwatch. Choosing her was the logical thing to do, given the importance of her assignment. The mission is sanctioned by people higher up in the command chain than me, so rest assured that I haven't gone rogue." Morrison explained calmly, watching as the words sunk into Tracer. She blinked slowly, realization dawning on her only bit by bit.
"Hang on just a moment there." she spoke up with a frown on her forehead. "Higher ups? Which higher ups? I thought we operate kind of illegally since the shutdown?"
Morrison grumbled. "Which is true. Which doesn't mean I don't have superiors." He said with a serious look on his face.
Tick
Tock
Tick
And the penny fell.
"Understood, Sir." Tracer replied evenly, feeling that this particular line of questioning was well beyond her pay grade.
"Good." Morrison nodded. "As for the events in Russia. We had intelligence that Katya Volskaya was collaborating with Talon, providing them with advanced weaponry and armament. I don't need to tell you why it's not desirable for us to have Talon run around with Volskaya's guns. Since director Volskaya had seemingly violated an agreement we had by apparently providing the enemy with equipment, I decided that she was no longer trustworthy. In her position she was too much a risk, which is the reason why I gave the order to eliminate her."
"Sorry to interrupt again, but holy shit Volskaya sold weapons to Talon? I didn't think she'd do that. She always seemed to be loyal to her people." Tracer mused.
"Yes..." Morrison sighed. He regretted what he had done to Katya. She had been a friend of sorts. He should have been more careful. "She was. The intelligence pointing us to her had been faked. She declined the deal with Talon, but we didn't know that."
"So Amélie killed her for nothing?" Lena gasped.
"I'm afraid so. She, however, did exactly as she was asked to do. Lady Lacroix offered her skills for disposing of Talon affiliated targets in exchange for impunity. I admit that maybe it wasn't my wisest choice, but I needed someone who would and could pull the trigger. Widowmaker did. That Volskaya was innocent in the end is not her fault. As I already said, we need her skills, Tracer."
"Why didn't she just say so, dammit?" Tracer felt her hands ball into fists.
"She wasn't allowed to disclose information regarding that mission to anyone." Morrison replied. "If you promise to never speak of this mission again to anyone but her, I can allow Lady Lacroix to discuss certain aspects of it with you, just as you asked me to. Do you think this would be beneficial to her mental health?"
Her fists tightened further, and she felt her nails digging into her skin. "It would be beneficial to her mental health to not do that kind of work at all, boss." Tracer said between gritted teeth. "She isn't ready for that kind of work yet. She isn't ready to get orders again... you don't understand." Lena took a deep breath forcing herself to relax. She tried to find the words to explain what she saw so clearly in front of her, without telling Morrison more than he needed to know about Amélie's private problems. "Talon conditioned her to follow orders. They made her obedient. Now you said she offered her help and wants to do that, and I believe you, because she told me the same thing. She wants to help. She sees Talon for the enemy they are, all because of the progress we... she made. I'm just worried that a lot of that hard earned progress will be destroyed again. You know, that some of her conditioning might come back."
Morrison inhaled sharply. He couldn't honestly say that he liked Tracer's complaint, but neither could he disregard her point either. Something Widowmaker said during their secret debriefing after St. Petersburg came back to him.
You need to understand that once you point the finger at someone and say kill I will do that.
Suddenly that statement had a whole new aspect to it. A concerning, important, and downright scary aspect.
"I will be careful how I will phrase Widowmaker's future assignments and make sure they will not sound like orders, but instead like polite inquires asking for her help. Beyond that we don't have another choice. As I said, we need her skills, Lena. We really do. I'm sorry it has to be this way, but it's all I can offer." Morrison with his best diplomatic voice.
There was a moment of silence in which Tracer apparently thought about Morrison's offer. Realistically she knew that it was for the best. She knew that Widowmaker wanted to fight against Talon and bring them down. Personal revenge in this case, but Lena didn't care. It was fair enough. She had no right to take that revenge away from Amélie. Tracer could only make sure that her girlfriend would not be exposed to any needless danger. Danger beyond what their usual dose was in their line of work anyway. Maybe having someone like Morrison on the top doing the planning and preparations wasn't so bad?
"Fine." Lena grumbled. "Fine. You always led us well, Commander. I trust you. If you say it's necessary, then who am I to say something else." The words felt heavy in Lena's mouth. She was a soldier and duty came first. She would have left Overwatch for Amélie, sure. But as long as they were both here, she would do her part. If Widow worked to bring down Talon, Tracer would be right there with her. "You can count on me, too. Should you need someone for a two person gig."
"Noted." Morrison nodded. "Dismissed, Agent Oxton."
"Boss." Lena saluted and turned to leave.
"Oh, and Lena?" The Commander called out once again, when Tracer had the door handle already in her hand. She turned back to him. "Not a single word to anyone but Widow. We can't afford for this to spread. The hunt for Talon is one thing, but the assignment Widowmaker has goes well beyond that."
"You got it, boss." Tracer said and wanted to leave, but stopped herself in the last moment. There was a thought suddenly appearing in her head. The secrecy. The fact that Widow worked directly for Morrison and no one knew. The fact that they decided to kill anyone who seemed to have some connection to Talon. Could it be that... "Do you think we have a mole?"
"We don't know. We already had one. Another setback is not an option."
"I won't ask."
"Good. Because I won't answer." He said and watched as Tracer left his office. He let out a sigh of relief which he didn't know he had been holding. That indeed did go a lot better than he would have thought. At least one of his issues was out of the way now. If anything, the talk with Oxton would further improve Widow's combat effectiveness.
Somewhere along the line he had forgotten that no matter how cruel and brutally cold she seemed most of the time, Widowmaker was still human. She had needs and wishes and fears like everyone else, and he had to admit to a shortcoming on his behalf to adequately take them into consideration. He had always taken great pride in the way he treated his agents and subordinates. He usually tried his best to give them anything and everything they could need. Why had he not done the same for Amélie Lacroix? The better she worked, the better were their chances for success. Defeat was no option.
Which was also the reason why the Commander grabbed the receiver of his telephone and pressed a quick dial button.
"Athena, I need Hanzo and McCree in my office asap. Tell them to assemble their teams, they will be sent to Antarctica for a recon-mission. And please inform Dr. Laguardia that he will be coming along with them."
-/-
Lena exited the command center with a feeling of relief. The talk with Morrison had gone way better than she imagined. When she came in she was ready to gut the man, but the more she talked with him, the more she understood that whatever was going on right now was a lot more complex than she initially imagined.
They were soldiers. And soldiers were meant for war. The commander had done everything in his power to alleviate Tracer's concerns regarding Amélie. Which was really all she could ask for. He had been right about Widowmaker being an adult woman who has to make her own choices. Lena wouldn't stand in the way of that at all. All she could and would do was making sure that Widow got a fair choice.
And so it happened that Lena left in a much brighter mood than she came. She walked around the corner of the corridor leading away from the command center and headed for the elevator. Not a second after she had pressed the button the doors already opened, and Lena was happy to see DVa standing inside already. She was wearing her usual skintight jumpsuit, unzipped and halfway hanging around her hips. Underneath she opted for a grey cropped top showing much of DVa's perfectly flat and well toned belly. Her dark brown hair was pulled up in a messy topknot, while she had a lollipop almost clenched between her teeth.
"Unni!" DVa exclaimed happily, taking the lollipop out of her mouth "How are you?"
"Great, Hana, thank you." Lena replied with a smile. She had to admit, DVa was really good looking. Just the right combination of sexy tease and cute innocence.
"I'm heading for the shooting range," Hana explained, "want to join?"
Tracer had nothing better to do and she could use some practice anyway, so she nodded. "Sure thing, luv. Let's go."
The two women felt the elevator moving again and after a few moments the doors opened, letting them step out of the glass cylinder into the workshop of Torbjörn, where the old engineer was, as usual, busy at work.
Surprising was only the project he was currently working on. The dwarf was standing on a stool behind a person Lena would recognize in her sleep. Torbjörn was apparently busy adjusting something on the neck of the uniform that person was wearing, while said person was holding her long, purple hair out of the way.
"Tell me if it's too tight, will you?" Torbjörn mumbled into his beard. "Would be a shame if I'd strangle you to death."
"Oui, Oui. It's alright. You'd notice if you were close to strangling me." Was Widow's dry reply. Torbjön only chuckled, probably imagining how she'd kick his ass off the stool and into the next wall in an equally violent and graceful roundhouse kick.
Tracer had to admit that she hadn't at all expected to find her gorgeous girlfriend down here in Torb's workshop. Not that she was about to complain. Oh no, definitely not. She couldn't help but smile goofily as she took in Widowmaker's new outfit. It was made of a shining leathery material and kept mostly in black, except for some red parts which seemed to stylize a corset. There was a utility belt filled with various gimmicks hanging around Widow's amazing hips, armored boots up to her knees and precision gloves. A combat knife was strapped to Widow's upper left thigh and attached to the utility belt were also straps securing a currently empty holster to her other thigh. The dark leather, at least Lena hoped it was leather, for it was rather shiny, wasn't the only kind of protection to Widowmaker's new getup. There was an elaborate looking metal system running down her spine and over her shoulders, closing around her neck. The one Torbjörn was currently working on.
"Oi, why didn't you tell me you'll be outfitted for cool new gear?" Lena asked as she walked up to Widowmaker. Her girlfriend looked smoking. Tracer liked it a lot. So much in fact that she completely missed DVa's condescending expression.
"I didn't know myself." Widowmaker shrugged. "That grumpy old man abducted me."
"Don't move!" Torbjörn exclaimed, ignoring the jab in his direction. It wasn't like he could really argue with him being a little grumpy from time to time. "I'm still adjusting those microsensors!" he admonished, grumbling something about not letting Widow run around in backless pink latex, like Talon thought it was acceptable. He might have used the term whoring around as well as sick asshats.
"Desolé." Widow said and had a one sided smile on her lips, casting a small glance over to Hana. "What's with the cloudy face, gamine?"
"Why would I be happy to see you of all people?" Hana snapped "You're just a mean bully!" she hissed, earning a tired sigh from Tracer. How was she supposed to convince DVa that Widowmaker wasn't the enemy anymore? And even more importantly, how was she supposed to let her know that they were quite the opposite of enemies and had been for quite some time. It wasn't like they could just kiss randomly in front of DVa. Then again, that had worked for the rest of the Watchpoint, too.
Torbjörn in the meantime gave the piece on Widow's neck a careful, but still strong tug, before he climbed off his stool. "All set and done." He declared proudly, walking over to the counter and tossing Widow her rifle. The colors were now fitting to her new outfit. "And take that rifle for a test, would you? Got rid of the charging sequence. Instant full power. Those Talon engineers must have had shit for brains, I'm telling you. Charging a shot. Pah! Ridiculous." He said, clapping his hands together, turning his attention to DVa. "And you, girl, why don't you cut her some slack, eh?" he asked with a perked up eyebrow, looking intensely at the young Asian.
Hana wanted to reply something, but she was caught so off guard by the question that nothing really came to mind. Why didn't she cut Widow some slack? Because she was evil and because she was always around Lena and because she had such an evil smirk on her lips and because... because she was a full grown woman with all the right curves in all the right places. Hana Song was jealous. Jealous of Tracer's attention which the blue bitch seemed to get so easily for some reason and jealous of her womanly assets, too. Not that she could just say that.
In that moment there was a beeping noise coming from out of Torbjörn's adjacent workshop. Metal was rattling loudly and a few moments later Bastion came waddling into the armory, the lamp on his head flashing rapidly and making panicked beeping noises. The machine moved over to Torbjörn, beeping even faster while gesturing wildly with its metal arms. The Swedish engineer rose a single finger and Bastion shut up. His eyes didn't leave DVa, who was looking back and forth between him and Bastion. "What's your problem with her?" Torbjörn demanded.
"She's evil, that's my problem." DVa replied, glaring at Widow who was merely rolling her eyes, obviously more annoyed than threatened.
Suddenly someone came out of the workshop again. This time it was an extremely annoyed Symmetra, who was stalking over to Bastion and Torbjörn. "I know it stings, but we need to get this done. You know it's the only way we can understand what makes you unique!" she said to Bastion, pulling on his arm. "Come along now you walking ball of chaos." She insisted, but Bastion, being the two ton machine he was, didn't move even an inch. He instead only beeped at Torbjörn again, as he was pleading that the Engineer would say something.
"Don't look at me like that! Now go with Satya here and get it over with." He said. Bastion only beeped again in a defeated manner, before he turned around funnily and reluctantly waddled back, following Symmetra.
"So, to you that Bastion is evil, too? Cause it didn't strike me as evil, you? Did it shoot you? Did it try to hurt you?" Torbjörn tapped his prosthetic hand on to Dva's stomach. "hm?"
"No, but-"
"Did Amélie?"
"She held a knife to my throat!" DVa exclaimed.
The accused woman chuckled. "I was teaching you a valuable lesson. You should have paid attention, maybe it will save your life one day." Widow said, walking over to Lena who up until now didn't say much. She felt like if she said something she'd automatically pick a side. Which she didn't want to do. She didn't want to make either Widow nor Hana feel like she took the other's part. "Anyway, as interesting as this is, why don't we all go and use that shooting range?" she suggested. "A little competition, what do you say, chérie?" she purred into Lena's ear, making her skin tingle with anticipation.
"Sounds good to me. C'mon Hana, let's see who's best."
"We already know that" Widow grinned, pointing at the scoreboard behind her, showing her at the very top with a huge distance to Ana Amari on the second place.
"Let's see who is best at shooting a pistol." Lena specified.
"Oh… well, ok we'll have to wait and see then." Widow shrugged, pulling Lena along with her toward the shooting range, one hand holding Lena's, the other one carrying her rifle.
-/-
"non, non, non" Widow sighed, stepping behind Hana. "This is not your silly robot which shoots plasma all over the place. What you need to do is aim properly."
"I am." DVa hissed, trying to make the assassin go away by stepping back a little. Which only served to make her walk right into the French woman.
"You're spraying and praying, little girl." Amélie said with a roll of her eyes. "Never do that. Your little plasma pistol doesn't have a lot of recoil, but trust me, should you ever shoot a real gun, you're going to break your pretty little ankles."
"That's why I use the plasma pistol, duh." Hana snapped. She didn't want Widow to talk to her like she was some complete noob. Even though she was rationally aware of just how much more experience the older assassin had, Hana didn't want to hear it.
"Shut up and listen." Amélie shoved Hana forward a little using her body while reaching around her waist and pushing her arms into a different position. Hana froze at the cold touch. For it felt like she had just been touched by death himself. Widowmaker completely ignored the Asian's hesitation, as she continued. "Hold your pistol with two hands, one goes here." Widowmaker moved Hana's hand, "the other here." She explained. "You're right handed, oui?"
"uh..." Hana stuttered, not really sure what was going on all of a sudden. Sure, she understood what Widow was trying to do, that she was about to tell her how to shoot properly, but that information just didn't compute. She glanced over to the shooting range next to her where Tracer had just put a tight group down range. The former Pilot holstered her weapon and proceeded to lean against Hana's booth, giving her an encouraging nod. "Listen to Amélie, she knows her craft." Lena smiled, yet DVa wasn't sure who she had smiled at exactly. It could have just as well been Widow. Why was Tracer so nice to that woman, Hana wondered. There was nothing likeable about her.
"Do I mumble, girl?" Widow's hiss into DVa's ear snapped her back to reality immediately. "Are you right handed?" she was asked.
"Sure…" Hana replied, swallowing heavily.
"Then why is your holster on the left?" Widow asked, and Hana could almost feel the other woman's golden eyes burn a hole into her back. "Never cross draw unless you're sitting a lot or have a shoulder holster. Do you have a shoulder holster? Non, you don't. Neither do you sit. So, switch." She explained evenly, while already grabbing DVa's belt mounted holster and moving it to the other side. It happened so fast that DVa couldn't even protest.
"Holster your gun." Widow ordered, her voice so sharp and commanding that, for some reason, Hana just did it. "Draw again." The assassin told her, and Hana obliged. "Notice how fast that was?"
Hana had to swallow a snarky reply, as she had to admit that it was indeed both easier and faster to draw her sidearm the way Widowmaker had showed her. The reason why she had been wearing her sidearm on the left side for too long was Korean military protocol. In theory Mekka pilots were supposed to draw their sidearm while being ejected from their destroyed robot. A feat which was more easily accomplished by cross drawing. In actual combat it quickly turned out that no one actually did draw while being ejected and instead opted for getting the fuck away from an exploding war machine and toward cover. If the machine had been destroyed in a situation, a handgun would do nothing against the enemy either way.
"See, seems like I do know a thing or two after all, right?" Widow chuckled, glancing over to Tracer who was casually right next to them, watching her girlfriend.
For Lena it was more than intriguing to watch how Amélie showed DVa the proper way to handle her handgun with maximum efficiency. To anyone else witnessing this, it might have seemed like someone had told Widowmaker to show Hana some tricks and the assassin was grudgingly following her orders. The way Hana's hands were almost roughly moved into the correct positions and how Widow didn't say a word more than what was strictly necessary to explain why and how some things should or shouldn't be done made it easy to assume that Widow didn't want to do this.
To Tracer it was something else entirely. She knew that no one, not even her, had told Widow that she should show DVa some tricks. It was Amélie who had decided to share. The fact that she was always saying a few brief words to Hana with each step she pushed the younger woman into, was enough for Lena to be sure of what was going on. Widowmaker, despite most likely taking every effort to claim the complete opposite should she ever be put on the spot, liked DVa enough to care about her safety during battle. Though, if Widow herself decided Hana would be worth liking or if she simply did it for Lena's sake was difficult to say. Still, Tracer had a wide smile on her lips while she watched Amélie talk Hana through the process of advanced arm positioning for perfect transit between long range shooting with a hand gun and close quarter scenarios.
Then she let go of Hana's arms and hands and told her to go through the postures on her own a few times. Under Widow's watchful eye, DVa did as she was told, while Amélie walked the two steps separating her from Lena and leaned against the wall of the shooting range right next to Lena.
"Bien. You got it. Still a bit amateurish, but you are on the right way. Keep practicing and one day you might even hit what you aim at." Widow stated with a smirk. Hana's mouth opened and closed. "Usually that's the part where you say thank you or something to express your gratitude." Widow stated and felt the nudge from Lena in her sides. She stealthily moved her hand to counter-attack, poking her girlfriend in the side.
"I… yes, thank you." Hana managed.
"You're welcome." Widow replied, feeling how Lena caught her hand in her own and leaned closer toward her. "I told you, you're good at that teaching stuff. You should really consider a position as an instructor." Lena murmured.
"Yeah, and I told you, I'd rather hang myself." Widow replied, completely forgetting about Hana still being right there next to them, as she leaned in closer to her girlfriend. "Sooo, who is the best of us with a handgun?"
"Jesse McCree." Lena giggled, getting a faked gasp of surprise from Amélie.
"Is that right?" she hummed, letting her hands run down Tracer's shoulders and snaking them around her waist, pulling her a little closer. "Maybe I have to practice my manual work then, hmm?" she whispered into Lena's ear, her voice soft as silk, before carefully biting into Lena's earlobe.
If nothing before caught Hana's attention, the wanton moan, which suddenly escaped Lena's lips, surely did. Her eyes went wide as saucers and she couldn't believe what she was seeing. A wave of confusion and a weird sense of protectiveness washed over Hana. This wasn't real. She was imagining things, Widow didn't nibble at Lena's earlobe, why would she? It was ridiculous. Stupid. Silly. And exactly what was happening.
"W-what the hell are you doing?!" DVa demanded of Widowmaker. "What is wrong with you?!" she shouted, feeling her jealousy peak for some reason. It wasn't right! Why was Lena allowing that? "Leave her alone!" she was about to grab Amélie's shoulder and yank her away with all of her force, when Widow turned around, staring at Hana with an expression of mixed rage and curiosity. Not an expression on Widow's face one wanted directed at them. Not at all. And surely not DVa, who had already dealt with the business end of the assassin's knife.
"Hana…" Lena spoke up, suddenly remembering two very important details. Firstly, she had never corrected her friend's assumption that Lena was straight as a dry spaghetti and in a relationship with a guy. And second, Hana was somewhere else when Widow and her made their relationship publically known.
Which created the mildly awkward situation they found themselves in right now. Hana feeling the need to protect her role model from the big bad assassin. Said assassin feeling the need to slap the living daylights out of the annoying pest who dared to interrupt her moment with Lena and of course Lena herself, who wanted to slap herself for being stupid. She should have thought about that. But she didn't.
"Unni, why are you letting her do this?" Hana asked, looking back and forth between Lena and Amélie, taking in the way they were standing too close to each other, a blue hand held in a white one. Something wasn't right here. "You said that... I mean when you came back from Numbani... Don't you have a boyfriend?"
Widowmaker couldn't hold her laughter in when she heard that completely ridiculous statement from the Asian. Yes... Numbani. Boyfriend? Not so much. It was amazing how much the truth could be twisted and still be completely void of logical holes the size of a mountain. She leaned closer to Lena once again. "Yes, Lena, tell us about your boyfriend." She purred, letting her finger run up and down Tracer's arm. "What's he like? Your beloved boyfriend?"
Lena shot Amélie a nasty glare. So not fair, luv. So not fair.
"Bloody hell." she sighed. It was high time to clear some things up once and for all. Where to start, though? Where to start... "Hana listen, I don't have a boyfriend. Not really. I mean, I have a relationship, but not a boyfriend." She started, not sure how she was going to put it. It had been a mistake to not just tell DVa from the very beginning that she didn't swing that way. But it was just so difficult, each time the opportunity presented itself Tracer felt like she would ruin Hana's world. And now there was little else she could do but tell her friend the truth.
Hana frowned deeply. No boyfriend? Relationship? "Wait, are you married already?" Hana tried. "But that's even worse! You-"
"No, Hana, I'm not married either. And I don't have a boyfriend." Lena sighed. "See, I never had a boyfriend in my life. Not once. But I've had dozens of relationships." She explained, hoping Hana would catch on to what she was trying to say. Why Lena just didn't say what she was trying to describe was beyond herself. It didn't feel right to just tell Hana to her face.
"What are you talking about, Unni? I don't understand, you said-"
She was interrupted by Widowmaker "Tu ne peux pas être aussi stupide." She whispered, before reaching up to gently turn Lena's face toward her and bringing their lips together in a gentle, loving kiss with only a little bit of tongue. It was nothing like the scandalous show-off kiss they shared in the mess hall the same morning.
"Do you understand that?" Amélie asked, after she slowly pulled back, but making it a point to still maintain body contact with Lena. "She doesn't have a boyfriend, because she doesn't like boys. She's a lesbian. And I'm her 'boyfriend' if you want. Just not a boy. At least last time I checked."
Hana could only stare at the kiss and the lewdness and how wrong and against everything she had been taught this all was. But despite that she couldn't help but feel a weird heat rising into her head and appearing as a hot blush on her face. "U-Unni… you're…" She stammered. This was huge. It was impossible, yet so very clear now. How had Hana missed that? How?
"Listen, I didn't want to lie to you, it's just, I never had a chance to tell you and it always seemed to be the wrong time to tell you. You were so euphoric. Sorry. But yes, I'm gay. Very. Very. Gay."
"And very, very taken." Amélie added.
Hana looked back and forth between the two women, obviously stunned out of her mind. She had no idea what to think about that. "She's your girlfriend?" she gasped, pointing at Widowmaker.
Suddenly so much made sense. Why Tracer never said anything against Widowmaker, why she always defended the assassin, why she always allowed her close and why they always kept looking at each other. So many things that had gotten DVa so very jealous because she feared for her friend were suddenly self explanatory. They had a secret relationship. A secret love affair. Like in the books Hana sometimes read! Maybe even better! And it even worked, they pulled it off! Somewhere in the back of her mind that knowledge gave Hana so much hope for herself, yet she didn't register that specific feeling. Instead she noticed how all that built up jealousy simply... vanished. It was no more. "You're together? A couple." She repeated, this time a lot more sure in the matter, the words not feeling as strange on her tongue as she thought they would.
Lena nodded with a happy smile on her lips. And what a happy smile it was. Not just on Lena, but the expression on Widow too, the way those two looked at each other for but an instant. It wasn't lost on DVa. She saw it and began to understand even more. They were happy. They had what everyone wanted. What Hana desired herself and what she thought she could maybe have found in Lucio. At least until he died, and Hana was forced to realize that he had been little more than a silly girl's crush.
But if Lena was... if she was seeing another girl. If someone like the one and only Lena Oxton could do that and not be bothered for it, maybe...
A sudden thought randomly appeared in her mind, completely overriding each and any other thought she had before. Before Hana had the chance to filter what her brain had so suddenly, and so rudely, sprung on her, she had already opened her mouth and said:
"Wait, so Widowmaker was the one in your room when I knocked and you opened the door naked!" Hana slapped her hand on her mouth, but it was already said. She flushed a deep red all over her face, not knowing why her mind decided to take such a dive into the naughty. It wasn't her business at all! She should neither have asked nor should she have cared!
"Yes, that was her." Lena admitted, feeling only a little bit uncomfortable with the question. There might have been a little of red color on her cheeks as well. It wasn't like she was ashamed or something, but it felt awkward to simply be told: Hey! You two fucked!
"Oh my god, Unni. I said so many mean things about her to you! And you never said anything!"
"I'm not sure who should be more offended about this. Her or me." Amélie offered, putting an arm around her girlfriend's waist.
"Her." Dva decided. "You still are still evil, and I'll do… I'll do... something to you if you hurt her." Hana stated, frowning at her own nonsense, before she turned and almost ran away.
-/-
Pacific Ocean, Talon swimming special operation base, early afternoon.
Reaper was drumming his fingers on the wooden plate of his desk, while he was listening to two of his Lieutenants giving their preliminary report about a recent mission to Columbia they had conducted. It wasn't surprising that it had been a striking success. Reaper couldn't afford to sabotage all of his missions. In fact, he only did so in very are cases. Usually the assignments he handed out were fulfilled the way he wanted them to be done, thanks to a more than formidable selection of competent employees.
This time was no different. His operatives had spent quite some time to weave invaluable connections to some of the most powerful Columbian syndicates. With some careful blackmail, bribery and assassination, Talon was able to procure a reliable source of income, utilizing the always flourishing drug business. It was an easy trade, logistics and the possibility of utilizing Talon's vast information network in exchange for a small fee.
Where the money came from was all the same to Reaper. Since he had executed the board of directors, they had gained so much flexibility, but had also lost a substantial part of their funding. It wasn't the majority of their income, but Reaper didn't want to take any chances. The thing with money was that you could never have enough. There was never a point where more wouldn't be better.
He waited until one of the Lieutenants was done giving his verbal report.
"Any complications during the mission I need to be aware of?" Reaper grumbled, leaning forward in his chair and placing his gloved hands on top of his desk. Had his eyes been visible, they would have pierced his agents with intensity.
"None, Sir. Everything according to plan. The cartels are playing ball." The one stated sharply, before the other added: "No witnesses, just as you ordered. Should one not hold up their end of the bargain, we will dispose of them."
"Excellent work." Reaper nodded. "I expect your written reports within the day."
"Yes, Sir." The two said in unison and dismissed themselves.
Reaper leaned back in his chair again, allowing himself a short moment to relax. Ever since he had talked to Morrison about the Volskaya mission and the implications of the faked intel he had been given, Reaper knew that something would happen. The only unknown was when that would be. The last few days were spent entirely on making sure that there was no hard evidence for his 'betrayal'. Not that it was a real betrayal, he never worked for Talon in the first place. A point of view which might have been up to discussion for Talon's big boss. Be that as it may, Reaper was certain that the only reasons someone would doubt his loyalty was the Volskaya mission, which in itself didn't have any hard evidence either. If anyone suspected something, it couldn't be more than a hunch.
A hunch could be, in theory at least, easily dismissed by proper actions.
Sure, Volskaya was dead and Reaper also had a report indicating that she had worked for Talon. But concluding from only this and not a whole lot more that he had given that intel to Overwatch, so they could get rid of Volskaya, just like they had gotten rid of Mei, was a far fetch.
Then again, the big boss would be paranoid enough to come to that conclusion. That he was also spot on with his paranoia, wasn't even the point. Reaper needed a way to convince the mastermind behind Talon that he was very much loyal to the cause. But how? Reaper knew that his boss liked two things: decisive actions and strength. Whoever it was pulling the strings in the shadows preferred makers over talkers. Which was definitely something Gabriel Reyes was able to work with.
"Mr. Reyes?" A timid female voice interrupted his musings. Reaper refocused his attention to his office and saw Gerda approaching with a silver tray carrying a can of coffee, two cups and a plate of biscuits. Self made. Gerda always made them herself. If this were the 50s and if Gerda wouldn't have been brainwashed, she would have been the perfect wife. Attentive, loving, always there when you needed her.
"Ah, Gerda." He said and tried to sound positive. The woman deserved better. He tried to make her life as comfortable as possible, but he doubted that his efforts were really going anywhere. It wasn't like he could give her a raise, since she wasn't paid, or send her on a nice vacation, since she had none.
Reaper regarded the two cups on the tray. "Will you join me for coffee?" he asked and raised an eyebrow behind his mask. Gerda's head shot up from placing the dishes on a small coffee-table next to Reaper's desk. She was sporting a bright red flush on her cheeks.
"N-no, Mas- mister Reyes, sorry! I'd l-love to, but you have a guest."
"Really? I don't-" give a shit. Reaper was interrupted by a deep chuckle coming from the door. The dark silhouette of a huge, muscled man leaning to the doorframe could only belong to a single person, there was no doubt about it.
"Long time no see, Reaper." The man said with incredibly deep voice. "I'm almost insulted that you never called. And here I thought we were friends."
Reaper rose from his seat and slowly walked around his desk, subtly giving Gerda a push so she was standing behind him. "Akande Ogundimu." He said in an overly calm manner, his rough, hollow voice cutting through the room in an eerie way. "I didn't request you." He stated matter-of-factly, indicating that he wouldn't mind if Doomfist would just fuck off again.
"You didn't." Akande replied with a devious smirk on his thick lips, his eyes trained on Reaper, who calmly walked in front of his desk just to lean against it in a casual manner. "I'm afraid the boss sent me." He popped his knuckles. " He has been a little... displeased with your loyalty recently. Even denied its existence. And you know what that means."
His mask hid the devious smirk that tugged on Reaper's lips. Now there is an idea, he thought and couldn't stop a vicious chuckle from forming in his throat. He knew what would happen now, knew it without a shadow of a doubt, and it would suit his purposes just perfectly.
Luckily, he had thought long and hard about the best way to prove his loyalty to the big boss and keep his cover in position. It did take him some major 'what if' thinking, but he came up with a plan he thought would work. The fact that Reaper had never asked for the position of Talon's de-facto head was really playing into his hands. "Oh, that's what this is about?" he asked, cracking his gloved knuckles. The fact that Reaper's perfect alibi would just walk into the room was almost funny.
"Indeed." Doomfist replied grinning. Reaper could already see the excitement in his eyes, burning for the fight. They never really got along.
"Let's get it over with, shall we? I have other things to do." Reaper said in a casual way, waiting for Doomfist to strike. He didn't have to wait long. The next moment Akande charged at him with full speed and a thundering battle cry.
Vaguely aware of Gerda screaming in terror Reaper didn't waste time concentrating on her. She was alright where she stood, and this would be over quickly. There was no need to pay extra attention to her protection. Reaper knew for sure that there was no way the maid would be harmed in this fight. At least not judging from the angle Doomfist was approaching him at and neither from the distance they both had from the maid. Certainly not if he had any say in the matter. No, Gerda had nothing to fear.
That wasn't to say that Akande wasn't a worthy adversary. That would have been an incredibly foolish assumption. The kind of foolishness that got people killed. Doomfist was extremely proficient at what he was doing, so much was true without the slightest shadow of a doubt. He was an exemplary martial artist, strong willed, quick on his feet and with fast reflexes. A truly powerful opponent, which would require Reaper's full attention. That wasn't to say that Doomfist wasn't without any weaknesses. The most obvious and gravest being his self-overestimating arrogance founded once in his undeniable strength and success, but ever outgrowing the extent of his true capabilities. Arrogance matching one's skills made them intimidating. Arrogance surpassing one's skills got them killed. It the first of the deadly sins for a reason.
Akande tended to attack quickly, trying to end a fight just as fast as he began it. He tried to use his power and speed to overwhelm his opponent and in doing so, he usually allowed himself to show off, exaggerating his movements more than it was necessary.
That first deadly sin was what Reyes planned to use against his adversary. It wasn't like he had no advantages over Doomfist. There were still plenty of aces up his sleeve.
Reaching out Reaper attempted to grab Akande's neck, knowing that this attempt would be blocked. As expected, his rival quickly rose his hands to block Reyes' assault. What Doomfist didn't take into consideration was that Reaper would easily be able to turn his body into a mass of dark smoke. Not only that, but by raising his hands to protect his throat, Doomfist left the rest of his body wide open.
The whole fight happened so fast that Gerda, standing on the sidelines and staring in utter disbelieve had no idea how Doomfist suddenly ended up pinned to Reaper's desk. To her it was all just one big bang and some smoke before the huge African man was disabled. If she had blinked, she'd have missed it.
What the maid didn't know was that Reyes had punched Akande hard into the sensitive spot under where his kidneys lay while he simultaneously re-materialized his hand around Doomfist's throat. Using the black man's own momentum against him, Reaper swung him around and slammed him onto his desk.
Bone and flesh were colliding with wood and one had to give way.
It was an old, heavy oak wood desk. Nothing which would break unless you decided to drive a full sized battle tank over it.
Akande's bones gave way, being pushed into his body and cracking a little. It served to knock the air straight out of his lungs, making him see stars for a moment.
Before he could regain his senses from the hard punch to his kidneys he already felt the cold end of a shotgun barrel pressed to his chest. Reaper pressed the gun deep into his flesh and growled. "If the boss wants me gone, he can tell me to leave. I don't need my loyalty questioned by the likes of you, scum."
Gerda flinched at the loud sound of Reaper's shotgun going off. She took a moment before she dared to look back again. The scene was a mess. Luckily nowhere near as bad as the conference Reaper cleared up in Berlin, but still a gory mess. Doomfist lay dead on the desk, a big pool of dark red blood spreading on top of it, soaking into some of Reaper's documents and quickly starting to drip off the edges to the floor. For a moment Gerda was disgusted at herself that she worried more about the documents than the man her master had just killed. Then again, he tried to kill the man who protected her, who was good to her and who treated her right. Why would she care what happened to the assailant?
"Gerda?" Reaper spoke up, his voice strangely calming to the maid.
"Yes, Master?" she replied quickly and cringed a little that she called him master again. He had told her so many times that she shouldn't do that.
"Would you be so kind and give me that tray you brought please? And a sharp knife."
-/-
A/N:
"You exaggerate what happened at the shooting range, patate"
-But only a little. Besides, it's supposed to be entertaining.
"tsk. Maybe. But you're also supposed to give me more attention than your typewriter."
-Isn't Lena supposed to give you attention?
"She is. And she does."
-See? So what do you need me for?
"Forget it."
Aaaand there she goes… Oh well, now what did I do wrong this time? Hell if I knew.
Alrighty, my friends, first things first, let me thank you all for your amazing support and all the fucking epic feedback you are giving me.
ADDRESSING A GUEST REVIEW:
Let me quickly address (yet another guest's) review from the last chapter: First of all, thank you and I'm happy to hear you are enjoying the story. Thank you also for your criticism. That's a great thing. I want to reply to some of your thoughts. First off, you asked why everyone has to be gay in this story. Good question, glad you asked. Ok, so there is a rational and an emotional answer to this. Rational first? Rational first. It's difficult to do it differently (completely ignoring all the people wanting Pharmercy to happen etc.) and here is why: There are way more girls than guys usable for shipping. Currently at the Watchpoint we have: Morrison, Torb, Rein, Genji, Hanjo and Cree for the gents (Reaper, Roady, Junkrat and Doomfist aren't there or dead, lel, Bastion is a machine, as is Zen) and Mercy, Widow, Tracer, DVa, Pharah, Sombra, Symmetra and Zarya for the ladys. Now, you have to be fair and adjust the list of guys: Torbjörn is married with kids, so he is out. Rein had Ana and he doesn't strike me as someone who would go for another relationship. Besides, he's really old by now. Can you see Morrison becoming touchy feely? Cause I can't. Leaves us realistically with Cree, Hanjo and Genji. Now ask again why there are three lesbian pairings. Widowtracer is the theme of the story, so of course that's a ship. Pharmercy is something reader begged me to do and I promised, so that's a given as well. Who would you prefer I pair Sombra and Hana with? Sure, I just couldn't have paired them with anyone, but that leads me to: The emotional side: I wanted to do it. I think they fit together and are cute. So I did it. In the beginning, I didn't want to do more than two lesbian pairs, this is my rule of thumb. But I decided to just do SomVa anyway, just because I wanted to and I think they are so perfect together.
The same guest also said, that "the pacing [of the story] is horrible for how long you take to write these." Alright, first off, I have a life, a very busy one at that. Combine that with my wish to write a good story and you get longer update times. Happens. As for the pacing, I realize that the last few chapters weren't as eventful as some others have been, but trust me, it was necessary. There is a lot of setting up required to make the story work the way I want to. I don't want to rush things, because it would only cause the story to make zero sense in the end and have gaping plot holes. Which I hope I can avoid.
Did that answer your concerns?
END OF GUEST REVIEW ADDRESSATION
Urgh, I have to say so much for this chapter, forgive me, haha. My beta is back! Which is amazing! Thank you very much for all your help, Jfb! I'd like to quote him real quick on the whole Doomfist thing: "RIP Doomfist. It was almost like, hey here's Doomfis... and he's dead." That made me laugh. Ok, before you all start demanding my head for killing a badass like Doomfistmedaddy so quickly, two thoughts: Reaper is an undead fucking war-machine who can turn himself to smoke, teleport, and create shotguns from nothing. How would he lose against someone with a fist? It's Doomfist, not One Punch Man. Plus: When I wrote the story draft, there was no Doomfist at all, simply because he didn't exist yet. I try my best to adjust and fit the new releases into the story somehow. So, for me, it's a plus that I managed to get Doomfist in the story at all.
Alright, I'll shut up now. Thank you all once again.
Should you want to finance yet another Ferrari:
tipeee com slash e82s-fanfiction
that's it from me for today!
Have a good one, and I'll see you all in the next one
o7
E82
-/-
Translations:
gamine (Frech) = kid.
Tu ne peux pas être aussi stupide (French) = You can't possibly be this stupid.