Chapter Text
“She’s still producing too much heat!”
“Her heart is beating too fast!”
“She must be cold and silent….”
“Cold and silent.”
In the dark, a woman sat up in her bed. The silk sheets caressed her skin, and her violet hair fell across her shoulders. A sigh erupted from her lips, and she massaged her eyes to catch the time on the clock resting on the bedside table. It read five o’clock in the morning. She breathed deeply through her nose; feeling the crisp morning air fill her lungs, allowing herself to focus on waking up entirely.
Her back ached from the previous night’s endeavors, and she could still smell the lingering scent of gunpowder on her skin. She rubbed her face, realizing she forgot to wash it of the makeup she wore to disguise her odd, icy skin. The talc laced the tips of her fingers, and she stared down at them, eyes scanning the design of her fingerprints.
Images of the night before appeared in her mind. She remembered seducing an official in his office. She remembered the smell of alcohol on his breath and how he thought he could run his big, hairy hands all over her. She remembered the fear in his eyes when she raised a silenced pistol to his head. “Adieu, mon ami,” she whispered playfully in his ear before pulling the trigger. She smirked before her nose crinkled and a frown formed on her face. The man, the billionaire who used his money to control the local politics, traffic women, and bet on wars; whose hair was thinning and whose greedy gut threatened to break the belt, was a coward. His death was a threat to the company, sure, but it was more of a threat to the elite who believed they were above any and everyone. Talon had its issues, but someone like him had no place in the world. He was a bastard, she told herself, and he deserved to die. Any man like him was scum of the earth.
Reaching over the side of her bed, the woman pulled out a holovid reader to peruse the national news of the day.
“DORADO MAYOR FOUND DEAD.”
The woman chuckled to herself, “Another widow I have made.” Her hotel room was still rather dark, so the assassin pulled herself out of bed to open the curtains. She wore nothing but a comfortable, black night robe as she looked out the window to the colorful town below her. Broken pinatas and confetti lined the clay village paths from the festival the night before. The rising sun created a beautiful golden glow over the empty streets and adobe homes. Colorful birds chirped from the power lines to welcome the day, filling the silence with their song. Honey eyes bore into her own reflection and she crossed her arms, sighing. She thought aloud, saying “The makeup was a bit much…” to the picture of the woman she once was standing in front of her.
Last night, before starting her mission, Widowmaker had disguised herself with makeup. She made her skin seem healthy with foundation and a gentle blush, and contoured her eye sockets and cheeks. Sure, she was already thin, but to make her face, neck, and hands come off as her natural tone, she had to use a variety of colors to pull it off. The news talked about a red kiss being left on the official’s cheek. Widowmaker snickered at her little gift.
Moving from the window, she started to pack her things. The pistol she used was given to her a few nights before by a Talon agent. At first, she refused, wanting to shoot him from a distance like all of her past targets, but whoever was in charge did not want his death to be public like the recent assassination attempt in King’s Row. Widowmaker followed the instructions to the “T,” with her own flair. She wore a simple business outfit. A black blazer and pencil skirt that framed her body beautifully; perfect to fit in and perfect to entice. After packing the uniform that was now splattered with dried blood, the assassin washed her face, neck, and hands of the disguise. She tightened her hair back into the high ponytail she was used to, and got ready to leave. Activating her communication device, the woman awaited orders.
The ship had landed a few rooftops away and her comm system pinged the location. She left a gracious tip for the housekeeper on top of the chest of drawers and departed. With her bag slung across her shoulder, the assassin climbed from her window, the city still quiet and the streets still in the morning air. Already having equipped her grappling hook, Widowmaker made her way to the ship with ease. Her superiors acknowledged her with a simple nod, and her partners Reaper and Sombra awaited her in the back. Equipped with his usual attire, Reaper would easily be marked as suspicious by any bystander. Covering his face was a bony skull mask resembling that of a barn owl and his arms and legs were covered in black and gray armor. Shotgun shells lined his chest and belt, proving his commitment to violence. He wore a cowl and cape over it all, hiding his features and surrounding him in darkness.
Sombra dressed far less suspiciously, besides the submachine gun laid on the coffee table in front of her, one would have assumed she liked to visit the dance clubs for a raging rave. Her outfit was made of bright pleathers and spandex, purples and aquas drawing anyone’s eye to her. She wore a layered jacket over skintight leggings that covered her feet, similar to a full body suit. Beneath it all, technology pulsed throughout, giving her a gentle glow. Sombra’s hands were covered with her special gloves, the prized possessions that allowed her access to any information in the world she could get her hands on.
The ship started to take off the minute Widowmaker boarded. Her comrades beckoned her over and Sombra held a smirk of pride on her face.
“What is that look for, Sombra?” Widowmaker challenged, lowering her eyes to the other woman.
“Oh, nothing, I was just wondering how you felt about that… I guess you could say, ``close quarters encounter?” She spoke with an impish giggle through her sentence, and Widowmaker scoffed in response.
“Fat men that smell of beer are not worth my time.” She said, crossing her arms and looking to the side, finding nothing in particular to rest her eyes on. Reaper chuckled through his skull mask.
“And what man is worth your time?” He jested, leaning forward with a smirk. She couldn’t see it but Widowmaker knew it was there.
“None. Now may I sit?” The sniper motioned towards the empty seat of the booth.
“You may,” Reaper responded, mischief receding from his tone.
They sat, talking about their escapades from the last two nights in Mexico for a while. The plane was quiet, and no one seemed to want to bother the three assailants so they filled the silence with their pride. Sombra boasted about accessing some Top Secret files from Lumerico and Reaper spoke briefly about the chaos he caused in the same office building Widowmaker had murdered the repugnant CEO. The Talon affiliates shared a few dark bits of humor amongst themselves and Sombra would’ve sworn that she noticed the tiniest spark of amusement in Widowmaker’s eyes, even with her lips sternly pursed together in a neutral position. She could always recognize when the other woman seemed to enjoy herself, despite lacking emotions. Occasionally, a smile would be present on Widowmaker’s face; not just her spiteful frown or sickening smirk, and it was those moments that Sombra came to like being in her presence.
The assassin had requested she be taken to her old family home, Chateau Guillard. A place she recently regained ownership of and was working to refurbish to her liking. Reaper and Sombra decided to find Doomfist somewhere in England. They all managed to eat and sleep comfortably on the ship as the hours passed. Widowmaker read a book, Sombra analyzed some information, and Reaper kept to himself, seeming particularly quiet as if he were brooding.
Passing over the Atlantic, Widowmaker caught herself watching the water through the ship’s windows. The clouds were perfect white puffs, and the ocean was a dark cerulean. Her eyes followed the birds that flew by, and she silently wondered what it was like to be so capable and free. Eventually, the ship landed off the English coast.
She waved Reaper and Sombra off nonchalantly as Doomfist greeted them at the platform. Widowmaker offered the man a nod, and he grinned knowingly her way. “Have fun in your castle,” he said as the ship began to start up again for its next stop.
“I believe I will.”
A gentle smile played on her lips as Widowmaker breathed in the clean air surrounding the Chateau. The lake’s mist was a scent she would cherish forever. The absolute silence was refreshing and as she took a deep breath, she closed her eyes and took it all in for a moment of complete peace. She strolled beneath the statue in her courtyard, noting how the paint in the entryway had dried while she was away. The smell of chemicals had dissipated, and her heels echoed through the halls on her way to the cellar.
“Mm,” she hummed appreciatively at the sight of her wine collection, reaching for a bottle she had been meaning to try. Widowmaker clasped her fingers around a hanging glass from its holder before she sat herself in a nearby plush chair, lighting the oil lamp and opening the bottle of elderberry wine. Removing her visor, she placed it on the side table before letting her hair down and finally relaxing. She sipped graciously, closing her eyes as the bitter berry scent filled her nose and calmed her senses. Since her transformation, wine seemed like the only thing that could reel her back from the edge and get her to fully simmer down after a mission. After her first glass, she poured another before carrying her affects towards the library.
Widowmaker made a stop for her ice machine, grasped the aluminum bucket’s handle and topped it off before she forced the bottle between the ice.
“No one likes warm wine,” she said to herself. She walked softly through her stone halls and gazed at the artwork she had hung on the wall the last time she was home. The clinking of ice and glass echoed around her and she relished in the simplicity of living alone. Shortly after entering the library, Widowmaker placed the bucket on her desk, grabbed a thick book from one of the shelves, and took a seat. She played some music from her laptop and became fully immersed in being home.
About an hour had passed when Widowmaker heard a disturbance within the Chateau. She recognized the sounds of a ship coming out of camouflage, and the deft rhythm of exhaust releasing from the engine. She collected herself, tucking her visor over her eyes and scanning all around her. The visor caught the thermal images of a group, and she sighed, annoyed at the outline of a massive gorilla, a smaller, hooded figure, and two others.
“So, they have come.” Widowmaker muttered, collecting her gun from its case and leaving her unfinished glass on the side table. Turning off her lamp, she began to pad softly through the dark hallway, using her visor to guide her. The unwelcome guests were grouped on the other side of the castle, and she could hear radio static and whispers. The sniper hooked to her ceiling, using momentum to throw herself to a balcony where they were in her sights. She lined up a shot, and as her finger slowly curled around the hair trigger, a shout rang out.
“Shooter on the balcony! Get down!” Widowmaker recognized the voice as the gorilla scientist that she had seen earlier. She groaned, backing away from the ledge, and into her bedroom. Throwing open her wardrobe, she fiercely withdrew an extra cartridge of ammo from behind her hanging blouses. Throwing the container onto the bed, she opened the chamber, and quickly filled the empty space. The pounding of footsteps up her wood stairs alarmed her, and she slew her gun across her shoulders, running and diving off the balcony, hooking and swinging to her courtyard.
Ever since the recall of Overwatch agents, Talon had seen more trouble than they would’ve liked. She was annoyed and that was the only emotion she seemed to feel since her transformation. Soon enough, she could hear people heading for the courtyard. She squatted behind a bush, hearing the familiar hiss of the monkey’s Tesla gun. Widowmaker clicked her tongue and squinted, waiting for him to grow closer. She raised her gun to her chest, taking in a deep, silent breath. Ana Amari followed, asking Winston for any knowledge on Widowmaker’s location. He motioned silently to the bush and the assassin tightened her grip on the Widow’s Kiss.
“Put down your gun, Widowmaker, you’ve lost,” Captain Amari said. “You can’t win. You’re outnumbered.” Ana’s voice was so calm, yet challenging. Her aged tone brought a smirk to the icy woman’s face. Pitiful old woman, she thought.
As the assassin looked for a ledge to escape to, she realized she would be open season if she moved anywhere.
“You were once a legend, but what are you now?” she questioned, voice seditious from behind the shrubbery. “Just a shadow of a woman.” Widowmaker heard Winston close in, so she tossed her gun to the side and raised a hand to signal them not to shoot. She would rather not be electrocuted, it was undignified.
“I take it you do not want my autograph, then.” Ana replied, aiming her own rifle at the Talon agent. Winston laid down a barrier, and Genji Shimada and Dr. Angela Ziegler had walked under its protection.
“Lay down your weapon.” Ana ordered. Widowmaker sighed and kicked her gun farther from herself and in view of her assailants. Angela used her caduceus staff as a hook to pull the rifle under the shield, picking it up and holding it carefully. The assassin put her hands up in defeat, and was soon rendered unconscious by Ana’s sleep dart, her body slumping against the stone floor.
“What was that for? She surrendered.” Angela protested.
“I will not allow her any chance to harm us,” Ana retorted, “We know what she is capable of and I choose to mitigate that risk, you must understand.”
Angela took a composing breath, “You’re right, my apologies,” she said regretfully. Ana softened her gaze at the doctor and gave her a comforting smile. She knew the pain of seeing a friend become a monster.
“Let’s get her to the Watchpoint.” Winston remarked, powering down his shield.
“Yes, things will be far more in our favor there,” Genji agreed. Everyone nodded and quickly began preparing for the flight. Even in her defeat, Widowmaker wore a smirk as she slept. Genji lifted her body across his shoulders and carried her to the ship’s holding cell. The ship was fired up and Amari had set the course for the base at Gibraltar.
It was about an hour before the Talon affiliate had awakened in her cell. The group spoke amongst themselves in the large cockpit, congratulating each other on a job well done and planning next steps.
“We had a duty, and we must fulfill it. We must interrogate her.” Genji offered after checking the cameras and seeing the woman had risen. Winston nodded, and he made his way to the holding cell. Ana stopped him.
“We will wait until we have reached Gibraltar. Winston, you will not interrogate her, but you will sit in front of that cell and watch until we have arrived.”
“With all due respect, Ms. Amari, I believe Mr. Shimada would be a better candidate to deal with her. I’m far too kind.” The scientist motioned towards the other man. Genji nodded, but collected himself before turning to leave.
“I will not acknowledge her with kindness,” he said, placing his mask over his face as he padded his way through the ship. As he drew closer, he heard the humming of a classical tune. Widowmaker was sitting, braiding her hair when Genji approached on the other side of the glass.
“Tchaikovsky... “ he said, addressing the song the woman was humming. He could not remember the title of the composition, however. He sat against the wall, staring at her behind the mask. She stopped humming to answer him.
“It’s from Swan Lake… the ballet.” She said, not making eye contact and being more invested in keeping her braid clean from stray hairs. Genji continued to stare right through her, and she could feel his eyes on her. “What do you want?”
“Nothing. I am just surprised by your knowledge of the classics.” He replied, being honest. She squinted at his response, finally looking at the man in front of her.
“Hmm… Mr. Shimada, is it?” She asked, feigning to be genuine.
“That is my name, yes.” He answered, ready for her to spew disrespect his way.
“Why did you choose to be with them? They destroyed your family.” Widowmaker remarked with malice. She hoped mentioning his past would get some form of reaction out of him.
“Maybe so, but I am a new man born from the ashes of what I once was.” He responded wisely. Widowmaker rolled her eyes.
“Pacificists accomplish nothing.” She shifted to a more comfortable cross-legged position in the awkward, blue plastic seat. She secured her braid and looked to him with a challenging expression.
“Perhaps to you, but peace is far greater than violence in the grand scheme of our lives. I noticed your unfinished glass of wine and the open book on your desk, surely you were enjoying the peace yourself?” He motioned to her inquizically.
“Mm, yes, I relish my moments alone, the peace as you say, but that does not change the high one gets from taking a life.” She replied.
“I know the feeling well, Widowmaker, but I have done many an hour of recollection and meditation on this. The ‘high’ only lasts so long.” He folded his arms, gazing to the side at nothing in particular. Feelings from his past quietly played in his thoughts. Widowmaker understood what he meant as she looked at him. Annoyingly, he was right. The high only lasted for a moment for her as well, and she kept chasing it day after day.
They stayed silent for a while, both of them pondering the short chat they had had until the clicking of heels could be heard from down the hallway.
“Seems we have a visitor,” Widowmaker said, pointing her chin to the woman walking closer to the holding cell. She looked at Genji who stood to switch places with the doctor. He left without a word and Widowmaker looked upon Angela with a raised eyebrow.
“Oh, so now you are taking turns babysitting me.” The doctor sighed at the comment and pulled out a holovid to play for her prisoner.
“Your friends did not get to have the meeting they would have liked. Talon operatives are in our care.” The holovid showed exactly what the doctor had said. The footage seemed to have come from mobile devices from local authorities. “Your friends really didn’t know we were coming, it seems.” Widowmaker sat back in her chair unfazed.
“If I really cared about them, you would already be dead, Doctor.” Her cool lips curled into a smirk and her honey eyes looked daringly into Angela’s. The blonde was nonchalant with the empty threat and she gave Widowmaker a patient smile.
“Oh, I’m sure. Because your performance at your home was so excellent.” Angela replied, her voice chipper but her eyes sharp. The assassin grew annoyed by the doctor’s pleasantness, but asked her a question. “Why haven’t you just killed me? Everyone here knows that I’m guilty.”
“You will find that out when we touch down.” The doctor said plainly. “But for now, you can sit here in silence. It won’t be long now.” She pressed the keypad behind her that activated the soundproofing of the cell. When Widowmaker asked what she did, Angela replied with a hand cupped around her ear and a fake “what?” motion. The prisoner rolled her eyes and moved to the dirty mattress in the corner of the cell. Angela remained standing before her for the next few minutes until Ana activated the comm and mentioned that they would be landing.
Later on, Ana met Angela in front of the assassin’s cell. Ana turned off the soundproofing and jangled a pair of handcuffs. Widowmaker sighed, “you’re treating me like a mutt on a leash.” Ana chuckled at the comment.
“At least dogs have loyalty,” She quipped, “you don’t even know the meaning of the word.”
Angela unlocked and opened the thick, glass door and Ana applied the cuffs.
“Not too tight, now. We haven’t picked a safe word.” Widowmaker winked at the doctor standing in front of her as Ana roughly made the metal bangles tighter around the assassin’s small wrists.
“Be quiet,” Ana scoffed, “you’re a prisoner here.” Widowmaker couldn’t stop rolling her eyes.
The two escorted her off the ship without another word and at the entrance stood Jack Morrison with his gun in his arms. He glared into the back of her head as she was escorted past, and he continued to stare until she was no longer in sight. His duty was to clear the ship officially before they started to adjust the technology within.
As they continued, Widowmaker recognized an all too familiar flash of light pass her and she groaned. Soon enough, the owner of the light stood right in front of her, stopping the escort abruptly.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?!” The brunette teased.
“An annoyance,” Widowmaker bit.
“Stop it. Lena, don’t you have something to do?” Angela asked sternly. Lena looked at her with a somewhat offended expression before nodding dejectedly and blinking away. Ana laughed at the ordeal and Angela elbowed her. “I know she is not liked by many of us, but she is here for a reason, Ana.” Widowmaker turned her head, confused, expecting an explanation but she didn’t receive one. Instead, they continued in silence to the assassin’s new cell. This room was far more well kept than the cell on the ship. The mattress had fresh sheets, there was a lid on the toilet, and a table with a chair was also in the room. Widowmaker looked to Angela in disbelief for she was expecting a barred window and door but no, it was a decent room with a glass casing. There weren’t any curtains, though, so privacy was obviously not considered. There was a camera in the corner, and Widowmaker wondered if she’d have to use the toilet on camera.
“You will eat and sleep here,” Angela said, “Best get comfortable; you will be here for a while.” The doctor unlocked the handcuffs and Ana shoved her into the cell. Before Widowmaker had a chance to claw her fingers into her captors’ faces, Angela had shut the glass door and locked it. Widowmaker sat on the bed, glowering pitifully at Ana as she walked away. The doctor stayed a little longer. “I will see you in the morning. Get some rest.”
Widowmaker breathed heavily out of her nose but accepted what she was told. She hadn’t realized how tired she was and so she removed her boots, untied her hair and removed her suit. She didn’t mind the camera even with her body exposed, and she tucked herself under her blankets and quickly fell asleep.