Chapter Text
"I'm not entirely sure if it's... possible to retrieve Dr. Ziegler," Winston says solemnly. To hide what he believes from the panel would be futile- taking one look at the doctor proves his point.
Blind, completely loyal to talon- what could they do to help her?
"Then the decision is made," Jack says, leering out the window, "its inhumane to keep her alive."
"I know she's in there," Genji insists, "I can see it. I can sense it. She's trapped, in her own mind- like Amélie Lacroix!"
"That's a very... bold statement," Ana crosses her arms, "there's no evidence to support that claim. Lacroix is dead."
"You're wrong," Genji argues. He pauses, trying to work on his response- no, he shouldn't bring up Ana's hatred for Widowmaker. Biased as she is, her point remains more accepted then his. He knows he can prove his point- his words are just failing him.
"And how is she wrong, Genji? What can you show us about that creature that we cannot see," Hanzo's voice is scathing.
"Must we refer to Doctor Ziegler in such a manner? She is still a human being," Zenyatta retorts. His mentor's words are appreciated. They offer him a second more to collect his thoughts.
"She is a terrorist!" Ana shakes her head.
"She is a prisoner of war, forced to carry out heinous acts," Zenyatta reminds them.
"She is trapped inside, just like Lacroix," Genji finally says, standing up.
"Angela, she researched the brainwashing- she worked on Lacroix's case."
"She didn't have access to those files," Jack refutes.
"No, she did. She did!" Genji hits the table, swearing under his breath.
"She worked closely with Blackwatch."
"Angela Ziegler was Overwatch personnel," Ana leans forward, lacing her fingers together, "if she worked with Blackwatch, she would be doing so in secret."
Genji can recall only one time he had walked in on Gabriel and Angela speaking in hushed voices. The second they saw him, Angela gathered her things and left- but she and Genji were close, and she disclosed what they were discussing as she performed routine diagnostics on his machinery later in the week.
He closes his eyes, remembering-
***
"I'm going to get Amélie back," she whispered, checking each vent on his left shoulder.
"What?"
"With Blackwatch help, it's possible- I know it is. All of the information they have on Talon, their brainwashing tactics- I'll solve the damned puzzle they've locked her in," she answers, voice barely audible.
"Angela-"
"You mustn't tell anyone," she insists, "not a soul. Please, Genji. I could be fired for this type of research."
She sets each vent in place, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze. He looks at her, sees the determination in her eyes- and he can only nod.
"Of course. Please, be careful."
***
"Blackwatch supplied information on Talon, and on Lacroix! Gabriel gave her full access. She was working to 'get her back,' she said."
"That doesn't convince me that Angela is still alive in the Doctor. If anything, it only explains why Talon put a mark on her head," Ana leers.
"No, it proves that she believed Lacroix could be saved. If we could find her research, if we could find where she left off...!"
"Impossible," Jack cuts him off, finally turning around, "all of that kind of data would have been in Geneva, or on Ziegler. I don't have to remind you what Talon did to Ziegler's apartment."
No, he doesn't. The whole apartment building, leveled in an explosion- Angela was presumed dead until whispers started going around Blackwatch personnel. Genji exhales, growing irate.
He takes a deep breath and removes his face plate. Running a hand over his scarred face, he looks around the table.
"We cannot kill Angela like... like... like she's some kind of animal. For what she's done for everyone here, we need to try. Try and save her from the prison Talon may or may not have forced her into. For fuck's sake, it's the least we can do!"
Genji breathes hard, the effort of speaking without his face plate immense. With one last look to Jack, he slides the metal back over his face. He sits down.
Silence.
Jack stands, still as a statue. Ana sighs, peering at the acting commander through the corner of her eye.
"Your orders?"
"Damn it all. I'm giving you a month to figure it out, Winston. After that... we'll reassess. This meeting is over."
***
Pain.
Pain and silence is all the Doctor has known for the last three days.
Even when an agent brings her food, they say nothing.
The bare frame of her wings makes her feel naked, vulnerable- the things were vestigial without the feathers.
The mechanics still buzzed and sparked when she moved them, the energy output never adjusted for the lack of hardlight receptors. Pain shoots along her back with each movement of her shoulders, the feedback too much.
As she lies motionless on her hard bed, she finds herself too exhausted and upset to cry. Hunger gnaws her stomach periodically, but she can't bring herself to make the five foot journey to the food on the ground.
How she longed to be back at Talon, back with Widowmaker-
She makes a noise, a pained one as her wings spark again.
'I didn't move that time,' she laments, 'why did they have to take my feathers...'
Why did they have to take me, she thinks somberly.
She can only lie there, and pray- pray that Talon finds her location, and rescues her soon.
***
It's gunfire that wakes Widowmaker up from a light, dreamless sleep. All thoughts of the emotional night she had leave her at once- potentially, Talon headquarters is being attacked.
She's up in an instant, gun in hand. She picks up the nearest article of clothing, which she bitterly notes as one of the Doctor's coats. Widowmaker recalls her leaving it here, the last time she visited Widowmaker's quarters.
It's marred with dried blood. Widowmaker can't recall where the blood came from.
She slides it on, telling herself it was faster then getting into her bodysuit. It covered her from shoulder to mid thigh, and for the moment, it will do. She exits, peering down the hallway. It's empty.
"Merde," she curses, retreating back to her quarters for her visor. She makes haste to the end of the hall, towards the elevators. Pausing by the elevator, she listens.
Distantly, she can hear faint footsteps.
She rushes the stairwell, heading down to the main area- peering through the tiny window in the door. She sees blood, and a few bodies of some unfortunate Talon grunts.
'...Ah,' she thinks, 'my suspicions were correct.'
Her ears perk, the sound of deft footsteps passing by the stairwell door.
They pause. Widowmaker keeps still, ducking behind the wall. When she looks back at the window, she sees no one.
The footsteps continue, and someone calls the elevator. She listens, concludes the elevator ascends, and follows it.
'I wonder who it is, perhaps Overwatch?'
But how could they know where Talon's headquarters were?
'The Doctor,' she thinks, and it makes her chest tighten. Did they torture that information out of her? This quickly?
Her grip on her gun tightens. She'll kill anyone who so much as looks like Overwatch personnel.
Widowmaker grits her teeth when she realizes exactly where the invader is heading- to the Talon director's room, inaccessible by the stairs. She'd need to get there some other way.
Exiting on the final landing, she calls an elevator. This floor lies mostly abandoned- it was intended for Talon projects such as Widowmaker and the Doctor, but with neither of them needing what they called 'maintenance,' it remains barren of personnel.
The elevator dings, and she wastes no time in breaking open the service hatch on the ceiling. Just one more climb, and she'd be at the uppermost floor. Scaling the cables, she swings to the elevator doors. She's about to pry them open when-
"-For the last time, Sombra! I said no!"
Widowmaker freezes, Akande's deep voice startling her.
"You let my project get taken, and I'm supposed to sit by and let that happen? What sort of business are you running, Doomfist?!"
Widowmaker deflates, the tension seeping out of her body.
Of course it was Sombra. Exiled, shamed Sombra.
"Whatever agreement you made with Vialli in regards to your 'project'- it no longer applies. Do you understand?"
Widowmaker hears Sombra take a deep breath.
"...Alright, Akande. Listen to me. You do not want to make an enemy out of me. You will help me get my Doctor back, or so help me I'll destroy you," Sombra growls. Widowmaker blinks, her eyes widening.
"You don't frighten me, girl. You don't need Talon to get your abomination back."
"She isn't an abomination. She helped you win fights in Gibraltar, Venice, and France! She's a perfect killing machine! I demanded her back after you kicked me off the council, but you wouldn't give her to me. Then, you kicked me out of the organization! You kept her, even though you knew she belonged to me. Now, you let her get taken by Overwatch! This isn't about you helping me- this is about you giving me what I deserved in the first place!"
"She failed the mission herself! If she was the 'perfect killing machine,' she wouldn't have gotten captured. You deserve nothing from this organization. You are a deceitful, disgusting creature. You're lucky I let you live after your interference with the Volskaya mission. I'm starting to see my mercy as a mistake," Akande snarls.
"I agree, Akande! It was a mistake letting me live! Want to try and rectify it?" Sombra laughs bitterly, "I don't care about your mercy. I just want my Mercy back!"
"Then get her yourself! I don't care about you, or your terrible science experiments!"
"You're going to regret this, Ogundimu!"
Widowmaker listens to a pixelated sound, and then the elevator to her right starts moving. Without hesitation, she descends down the cable, into the elevator, and rushes down the stairs.
Widowmaker makes it there before the elevator does. She waits, tense- She worked with Sombra a handful of times, but there was clearly more to this girl then she could have known.
The elevator dings, but no one walks out.
Or, one that Widowmaker can see.
Sombra materializes in front of Widowmaker, peering up at her. Widowmaker isn't sure what to ask first, but it's clear she doesn't have to say anything. Sombra's eyes catch the lab coat. Her angry expression fades to one of amusement.
"...Well, well. So the girl was lying," she hums, prodding at the collar of the coat.
"Well then, Araña," Sombra smiles mischievously, "we'll be in touch."
She pats Widowmaker's cheek, and vanishes in an instant.