A/N:

Before we get started this time, a short announcement:

There were some readers in the past, who asked me if I had or accepted donations. Which I never did. I always did this because it was fun and loved doing it and never expected to get anything back other than feedback. Long story short, I got convinced by some readers that I should change that. The Joker was quoted, and I love that guy. "If you are good at something, never do it for free." Apparently I am kinda ok at what I do. So I was like... urgh, fine.

So, for those of you who want to donate, I now have a tipeee site. The reason why I chose Tipeee and not something else is easy: Tipeee allows you to just make a single donation. Just once. No monthly contribution (which you can do, too, but don't have to.) And I think that is great.

Tipeee dot com slash e82s-fanfiction

Sorry, I can't post a proper link here. Thank you FFN. Alternatively you can just head over to Tipeee and search for E82 and you will find me easily.

I just want to make one thing very clear: I don't want anyone to feel like they have to donate. Because you don't, it's perfectly fine if you write a review instead and tell me what you think. But you know, if you feel like spending money on me and the stuff I write is what you want to do, then I greatly appreciate it. You know, fund my next coffee or something.

So, there you have it. Tipeee for those who want to. I'll be honest I'm not 100% comfortable with this, but hey, let's give it a try.

-/-


Russia, St. Petersburg, 2132 hours.

The thing about Russia at this time of the year was the temperature. It was freezing cold, each breath resulting in a small white cloud, like everyone was smoking. Yet, in comparison to the last time Tracer had been to Russia, this time didn't feel as cold.

Diskon. What an utter shithole.

The temperatures back then were hardly tolerable, but if Lena was fair, she had to admit that she was affected by the much different circumstances back in Diskon. Mercy had been kidnapped, Lena hadn't slept in what felt like a week and she was worried sick for her girlfriend. Tracer wouldn't have felt warm if she had been in the middle of a desert at high noon.

Now was a completely different scenario and a completely different team. Zarya was the only one who was both at Diskon and on this mission too. Her being Russian might have had something to do with that decision. Lena would have taken Genji along, but the Ninja was currently somewhere in the East of China, securing some much needed supplies and Jesse... Well, McCree still wasn't on the best of terms with Widowmaker. Tracer preferred not having to deal with the two of them bickering all the time, she wouldn't have been able to keep her mouth shut. Instead Tracer decided to take Hana along. God knew the girl could use some more field experience outside her mech. She also needed some distraction, Lena figured, after the whole mess with Lucio's death.

So, they were four women now. Zarya, Widowmaker, DVa and Lena herself. A decent small team, Lena had no worries that they would be able to achieve their mission without a lot of problems. It wasn't like they were sent into a freaking war-zone. St. Petersburg was a nice, civilized city for the most part.

The Orca had dropped them off on a large unpopulated plaza in one of the less frequented, industrial districts. They had been walking from there, following Athena's GPS based directions in search of the Helios, a prestigious high class nightclub where Katya Volskaya told them they would meet. Sombra would be with her.

It had been a comfortable 10 minute walk from the drop zone to their preparation point just before their destination. During that small walk, they did see a lot of the beautiful Russian city during its most charming period: at night, with all the sparkling city lights making the white snow glow brightly. It was an interesting place, so beautiful, luxurious and extravagant on the one side, but on the other, if you looked closer, behind its modern, open-minded facade, it was also filled with crippling poverty and decay. Two worlds were basically co-existing next to each other, the one completely ignoring the other.

Their preparation point was a pavilion made from white stone. The slightly elevated position allowed a nice view over the Helios, but still far enough away to not be too obvious. The pavilion had been built next to the Fontanka, a scenic river, gently winding itself through the city of St. Petersburg. The street lamps of the walkways to both sides of the river cast a soft light onto the dark waters, the edges where the river met its stone confinement were partly frozen and covered with snow. The bone-chilling cold made the whole scenery weirdly silent, while everyone checked their gear, at least a little secluded from prying eyes by the pavilion's structure. Not that there were many people out for a walk in the nearby park at their side of the river.

Tracer looked forward to this mission, for she knew that this one would finally be rather easy. Go in, say hello to miss Volskaya, grab Sombra, drag her back to the shuttle, fly home, done. Easy enough. At least, in theory.

Something in her guts told her that this was just wishful thinking. It was never that easy.

She glanced over at her comrades and regarded them for a moment. Zarya was a towering rock amongst them, distributing extra magazines for their concealed guns. DVa was standing next to the weightlifter, zipping her pink –what other color did Tracer expect- coat with a white fur hood up all the way, obviously not very fond of the cold. She was holding the box with the extra magazines for Zarya. It was good to see that they were working together smoothly.

Widow was standing a little further away, her back facing to the group. She glanced over her shoulder for a moment, locking eyes with Tracer, who gave her a faint smile before Amélie turned away again.

The assassin, wearing her trademark skin tight catsuit under a black trench coat, lit herself a cigarette. The light of the flame briefly illuminated her face, making her golden eyes glow in an even eerier way more than they usually did. A stark contrast to the otherwise dark night. While she put the lighter away, she took a deep drag, sucking the thick smoke deeply into her lungs and kept it in for a long moment. She overlooked the river when someone tapped on her shoulder. It was Zarya, holding a magazine out to her. Resisting the momentary urge to blow the smoke into the weightlifter's face, Amélie instead turned her head to the side to empty her lungs. She held her hand out for Zarya to drop the magazine into.

"Merci" Widow said plainly, turning back to the river once again while stowing the magazine in the shoulder holster she wore underneath her coat. She wouldn't have bothered with the coat, for she didn't even feel the cold, but Lena insisted. At least her argument had been solid enough. The catsuit alone would draw too much attention and the coat was excellent to allow for concealed weapon carry. Getting better, chérie, Widow thought, taking another drag of her cigarette; the tip glowing in a bright orange light and the tobacco crackling faintly in the silence of the night. Her eyes were wandering over the river and found the nightclub not too far away. It was hard to miss, with all the colorful spotlights and sky-lasers meant for creating an interesting, unique location. How that would help the place be interesting or unique was beyond Widowmaker, and frankly enough, she didn't really care either. She was thinking about the upcoming task.

Find and capture Sombra, the mission objective was clear. At least for everyone else. But everyone else didn't get their own special assignments. Widowmaker was not so sure if she should feel excited or scared about the extra work Morrison gave her. A part of her was definitely excited, so excited that she felt the all too familiar rush of her cold blood and the anticipation itching in her bones. Yet, another part of her hated it, both the fact that she had to admit that she was very much looking forward to what would come as well as the fact that she couldn't talk to anyone about it. Amélie knew that she was basically lying to Lena. But what other choice did she have? Amélie did this for Lena just as much as she did it for herself. She could only hope for Lena's forgiveness later on.

She took another drag from her cigarette, which had burned down to half its original length by now.

Not letting the smoke out of her lungs, she reached for a little piece of paper in the pocket of her coat. It was the note she had cracked out of the sealed red acrylic case which was given to her. Her orders from Morrison together with two only mildly varying letters. Ever since she had read what was written on the note and the letters, Widow had become quiet. She would do what was asked from her. No one liked traitors, especially those who betrayed someone for Talon. She exhaled, wondering how those letters were created in the first place and if there wouldn't be better ways to go about it. It didn't matter. This was better than nothing and she could work with it, no problem. Amélie only hoped that Lena would still look at her after today.

Folding the two letters and putting them back into her pocket, she held the paper with her orders in her hands. Fishing in her other pocket Amélie procured her silver lighter and ignited it with a flick of her wrist. Carefully holding the edge of the note into the flame Widowmaker held the piece of paper until her orders had caught fire. She felt the heat of the flames licking on her fingers, before she let the burning note fall over the ancient metal parapet of the pavilion. The handrail was meant to prevent people from stumbling into the river below, yet for some reason Widow didn't really trust it could do that anymore. The metal was rusty and old and it seemed like it would break apart if one were to lean against it. Widowmaker found herself smiling at the thought of someone breaking through the railing because they put too much weight against it. So, not particularly fancying an involuntary bath in ice water, she refrained from touching the parapet when she watched the burning note floating downward. A moment later Amélie heard the sizzling of the note falling into the ice water below and extinguishing itself.

"You ok?" Lena asked quietly as she walked up to her girlfriend, eyeing her carefully. She was tense and her face was void of all expressions. Tracer didn't like that, it was not a sign of anything good going on inside of Amélie's head.

"Sure." The assassin nodded. "Let's get this over with, ok?"

"Amélie?" Lena whispered, reaching out to hold her lover on the hem of her coat's sleeve.

"It's nothing, chérie."

"Is it because of your extra orders?" Lena asked, discreetly grasping her girlfriends hand into hers and squeezing it reassuringly.

"You won't like them." Widow stated simply, not finding it in herself to look at Lena.

"That's what orders are. I don't have to like them." Tracer laughed half heartedly. "Come on, let's get this over with, we'll be back home in no time." She said and winked at Amélie who forced a sad smile to her lips.

The team left the pavilion and crossed a bridge to the other side of the river before they were nearing the Helios.

The Helios club was nearby, at the riverside of the Fontanka. It was an imposing building, constructed in old roman style, obviously meant to reassemble some kind of temple. The building had countless tall pillars and a large dome in the middle of the main building. Two long, one story buildings were framing a park like area in front of the club, where the guests were waiting more or less patiently to be let in. The small plaza, already filled with guests, was lit with artificial spot-lights of various colors, some moving, some stationary.

The team came to a stop in front of the complex. Even though they still weren't nearly inside yet, Lena could already hear the rhythm of the music playing on the dancefloors. The booming of deep basses and dark tunes, which touched a spot deep inside the soul, awaking a dark, forbidden passion. It wasn't Lena's kind of Music, and neither was it Amélie's, judging from the way she wrinkled her nose for but a moment.

"As discussed. Zarya and I will go inside. Hana and Widow, you will cover the back entrance" Tracer said and could have sworn that DVa was about to protest. "Make sure that Sombra doesn't escape. Keep a close eye on the back alley. If she'll run, she will most likely use that way." Lena added and exchanged a glance with Widowmaker.

"Come on then, child. We don't want this to take longer than your bedtime allows you, right?" Amélie teased, patting Hana's head before she walked off in the direction of the backside of the club. Hana, being frozen for a second, opening and closing her mouth without a sound escaping, needed a moment to remember that she was supposed to follow that rude, mean insufferable assassin. Shaking her head, she turned and quickly hurried after Widowmaker.

In the meantime, Lena and Zarya headed for the main entrance, bypassing the long crowd of people waiting to be let in. Everyone wanted in, wanting nothing more than the chance of partying with the rich and famous, catching their own short glimpse of what glamour felt like, but only few were permitted.

While the two Overwatch-agents walked past the many waiting guests, they received some nasty glances and glares. Compared to the dolled and dressed up guests expecting to be granted access, Lena and Zarya definitely stood out. They were both wearing a plain coat over their regular combat gear, Zarya's was white, Lena's brown. Neither of them really cared for the mean stares, they were soldiers after all and luckily looks could not actually kill. They walked up to the bouncer at the front entrance, who was looking at them suspiciously. He was wearing a very cliché fur coat and sun glasses, even though it had been dark for hours. He didn't leave the impression that he would let them inside.

"What do you want. Wait in line like anyone else. Better yet, don't bother at all with that getup." He grumbled in Russian. A blond bimbo with pink high heels taller than a building and the fishnet stocking wrapped legs to match was giggling dumbly right behind them. Tracer only looked over her shoulder and smiled, letting Zarya do the talking.

"We are expected by Katya Volskaya." She replied easily. "Check your guest list, please. Makarov and Onatopp." Zarya stated the two names that Morrison had picked as an alias for them. He didn't know who he would send, so he made up two names for the guest-list.

The bouncer took out a datapad from his coat and started typing the names into a search bar. After a few seconds, he nodded. "Of course. I apologize for stopping you, please enjoy your stay in the Helios."

"Thank you." Zarya said with a curt smile, while the bouncer opened the door letting her and Lena in. Tracer, in a fit of unparalleled maturity, stuck her tongue out to the blond bimbo, while she walked inside backwards.

The door closed behind them and Lena turned back around again, finding her way through a dark black and impossibly heavy curtain around the door. Once they were completely inside, the music was suddenly ten times louder and not at all pleasant. What was pleasant were the waitresses running around. The club seemed to have some sort of ice-theme going on. The bar was made from huge blocks of ice, the barkeeper was only wearing a tight white shirt, showing off his well built body and the waitresses were... not exactly wearing a lot more either. White frilly lingerie for the most part. Which Lena thought was pretty nice. But enjoying themselves was no objective for this day. They were in. All they had to do now was find Katya Volskaya.

Meanwhile Widowmaker and DVa had a totally different objective to complete. At least if lurking in the shadows and waiting for something to happen or the signal to retreat could be called completing an objective. It was still what they would do for the remainder of the evening. Best case scenario for: Sombra would just come with Lena and Zarya. Which was just as boring as it was unlikely, Widowmaker knew that. The worst case would be that Sombra tried to make a run for it and would have to be stopped. A part of Widow almost hoped that would happen, just so she could see some action again. In her mind, there was no doubt that they would catch the Mexican hacker. Sombra wouldn't get away. That would be the actual worst case scenario.

"Why am I stuck with you of all people?" Hana complained more to herself than to Widow, kicking a small, apparently bothersome, stone down the dark, dirty alleyway behind the club. The other woman still heard her, though.

"Do you speak Russian?" she asked coolly, glancing over at DVa. The former pro-gamer had to shake her head no. "See? Zarya does. And so do I. It's a reasonable split." Widowmaker replied, pulling a leg up and pressing it to the cold wall she was leaning against. "Besides, you aren't old enough to enter a club, are you?"

"I'm of legal age here!" DVa insisted angrily, stemming her hands to her hips and facing Widow.

"Maybe." Amélie shrugged pretending to not care. In truth, the little girl was getting on her nerves. "You'd still stand out."

"Oh, and you wouldn't or what?"

"Did you hear me complaining about not being somewhere else? No, you didn't. There is a reason I am watching the back entrance." Widow snapped. Still, the reason might not have been what Amélie made her involuntary colleague believe. It was that she didn't handle large numbers of people too well and tended to freak out whenever there were too many around her. A bloodbath in a Russian club was not on the to do list for now. At least not too much blood. Hana knew neither of those things and Widow would keep it this way.

Inside the Helios, Zarya and Tracer were slowly working their way through the crowded dance floor. Director Volskaya had a private room at the back. Yet, getting there proved to be much more complicated than initially presumed. It seemed like everyone with some money or influence in Russia had been stuffed onto the dance floor. Damn, how many people could one cramp into a single room? The flashing lights and lasers together with the booming music didn't really help with the feeling of constant assault. Lena was glad that Amélie had no qualms about staying outside. She would have lost her mind in here and Tracer was surely not keen on cleaning up the mess a freaked out and armed Widowmaker could cause on a crowded dance floor. Hell, she wouldn't want to clean up the mess of an unarmed Widow either. Her girlfriend would probably just use someone's glass as a weapon. Wouldn't be surprising. Lena saw her almost kill Dr. Laguardia with a pen. A. Pen. Meant for writing.

At least Zarya was pushing through the masses like a tank through a young forest and Lena quickly followed behind her before she was cut off. It took time to get to the other side, simply because the weightlifter didn't want to kick people out of the way, but at least they were making progress.

Soon enough they found themselves in front of a passage in the wall. A huge man in a black suit and an earpiece for a walkie-talkie blocked the way, a red velvet cord denying access.

"She is expecting you" he grumbled in bad English, lifting the cord up for Zarya and Lena to slip into the small passage. The loud music subdued soon enough into barely more than a faint tune in the background. Something Tracer was actually rather glad about, the noise on the main floor had almost been too much for her to handle. She enjoyed loud music like anyone else, but at a point where she was able to feel the booming of the bass in her guts was simply too much for her. She didn't need her insides massaged, thank you very much.

The small passage lead into a room which reassembled a cave. The floor was made from glass, making the ground underneath it very much visible. Chippings of dark stone lay below the glass while multiple spotlights were shining through it, illuminating the rough stone walls. If those were actual stones or just made to look similar was not really distinguishable. It didn't matter either, the atmosphere was great, like someone created a small cave inside the club.

In contrast to the dark walls and the ground underneath the glass floor, a few very comfortable white leather couches were standing in the middle of the room, facing each other. A large glass table was in the center of the couches, a shiny metal bucket placed on top of it. There were thick drops of water running down the polished surface with some frozen spots on it. Ice inside the bucket was cooling down a green bottle of stupidly expensive champagne. Two glasses were standing on the table, too. One was almost empty, the other one seemed to be untouched, the sparkling yellow-ish liquid still filling the elegant crystal glass.

Tracer and Zarya exchanged a look which was saying more than a thousand words, and surely not because of the expensive champagne-flutes.

Sitting on one of the couches, facing the passage, was Katya Volskaya and she was not looking comfortable at all. Her stiffness could be compared to an antique marble statue. The only thing which even managed to surpass the similarities in posture was her color, which was so pale it was almost white. The reason for her more than unhealthy color was most likely the one and only Sombra sitting lasciviously in her lap, a devilish smirk on her lips and obviously up to no good.

"Good evening luvs, someone here called the bizzy?" Tracer announced cheerfully and Sombra's head immediately shot up and faced the entrance. Her eyes were wide, darting back and forth between Zarya and Tracer. The surprise was written all over her features. "I take it then you didn't call?" Lena smirked.

"Mierda!" Sombra hissed and jumped off Katya's lap, looking about the room. "I should not have trusted you. I will-"

"What did you expect? Blackmailing me was a bad idea, Miss Colomar." Katya said calmly, reaching for the full champagne flute, only now allowing herself to indulge the pleasure of its taste. She had won and she knew it.

Sombra's eyes were as wide as saucers.

"Oh, I know who you are. Olivia Colomar. Lost your parents in the first Omnic war as many had. Became a skilled hacker. Joined a gang called Los Muertos and later Talon, before you went rogue. An interesting story, I'll admit, full of manipulation and social engineering. But I'm afraid, you picked a bad target for your little games." Katya smiled victoriously, sipping the yellow sparkling liquid. Her eyes followed Sombra who was growing increasingly uneasy with every passing moment.

"Damn you, amiga." Sombra pressed out, running a nervous hand through her colored hair."Damn. You don't understand, all I... damn" Sombra started pacing up and down the room, almost like she was beginning to panic, with her hands shaking badly and her steps becoming insecure. She seemed like she was close to falling into a screaming fit, when she stopped in front of the two Overwatch agents. "Ah, you see... I'm sure there must be something we can do about this, right?" she said with badly forced calmness but trembling voice.

Zarya stepped a little closer to her, gazing down onto the smaller woman with a stern look on her face."Da." she replied, crossing her muscular arms over her chest "You will come with us. Now."

The already crumbling facade on Sombra's face cracked visibly.

"Bad idea. Very bad idea." she sputtered, glancing over at Katya and taking a few steps toward her. "Why? Why did you do that?" she asked, not able to hide some desperation in her voice. If Katya Volskaya would have looked Sombra in the eyes in that moment, she could have told that the hacker was scared and alone in the world. But Katya didn't grace Sombra with so much as a single glance in her direction.

"You can't blackmail someone into friendship. Surely you must realize that. I would have never been your friend. No one will." She replied confidently, hoping that Overwatch would finally take Sombra away so that she could get back to her life and company.

For a brief moment, there was something like genuine hurt flashing across Sombra's features, but it was quickly gone. Still, Tracer didn't miss it and it made her wonder for a second.

"I only tried to make you see that... I just wanted to show you..." Olivia started, but trailed off, before slouching her shoulders, letting her head hang down. Her hair was hiding her face almost completely. "I would have never actually done anything against you..." Sombra admitted quietly, inhaling deeply and apparently composing herself. When she looked back up again, her face was replaced with a haughty smirk, almost like she had put on a perfect mask again, the cracks and holes in her facade were completely gone like it never happened. Like she never showed her true face for however short the moment had been. "Sorry ladies, but there is no place for me where you are going" she shrugged and suddenly, she was gone.

-/-

Outside, Widow and DVa were waiting patiently for something to happen. A couple of minutes ago a bouncer had mistaken them for dancers of the club. Widowmaker, speaking fluent Russian, made it very clear, that they were no employees of the nightclub in any way. Not that she would have needed to speak Russian to make that point clear. The poor bloke would be limping for at least a few days after she was done with him. All Widow really used Russian for, was to spit threats about cutting his balls off and stuffing them down his throat should he ever dare to even look at her again. Her Asian companion could only stare while it happened, unable to intervene. It happened so fast, before Hana knew what was going on, it was already over again.

DVa had to admit that she truly had never seen anyone move remotely the way Widow did. All her actions were smoothly and with lightning speed flowing into each other. Like the rushing water in a mountain torrent forcing its unstoppable way through the rocks, entraining everything which got caught up in the violent waters. There was no trace of sluggishness or even a hint of imprecision, only a fast series of attacks before her adversary lay on the floor. Hana was left with no other choice but admit that Widowmaker was probably the only person in the world who both could and would make hurting people look absurdly elegant.

But apart from that small incident with the bouncer nothing happened and the two women were back to leaning against an old brick wall in the shadows of the nightclub. The street back here was old and filthy, small puddles of molten water formed on warmer spots, others were covered by snow. Still, that didn't mean that all the filth on the cracked and burst tarmac wasn't visible. Not surprising, considering that the garbage of the club was collected in containers of varying rustiness underneath a small metal roof right next to the street. There were also exactly 68 blue plastic bags with presumably even more garbage inside. Amélie knew it was that specific number because she had counted them. She was bored, but didn't want to talk to the annoying Asian kid either.

There was a loading bay underneath that metal roof, which was probably only rainproof because it was frozen over. By the looks of it, that loading bay hadn't been used in eons and probably maintained in the same regular intervals the roof has. Namely never. If that even was an interval. But, at least, inside the metal roll-gate of the bay there was a door, which served as the back entrance and actually worked. The unfortunate bouncer from before had come through it.

Widowmaker groaned. She wanted this to be over, wanted to be back home with Lena and her in the same bed, snuggling. She wanted to feel the warm body of her lover pressed against hers, her hands all over her body and her mouth kissing down her neck. She wanted-

"Suspect on the run." Tracer's voice came over the radio and Amélie's eyes immediately snapped to the back entrance. "Repeat, Sombra used a translocator. Keep your eyes open, I'm sure she is headed your way."

Finally!

Lena hadn't even completed talking yet, when Widowmaker had already moved next to the door of the back entrance. DVa was caught by complete surprise as the very same door suddenly swung open with a painfully loud creak and Sombra came rushing out. There wasn't even three seconds between these events, it all happened so fast.

The hacker didn't get far before her face collided harshly with the heel of Widowmaker's boots as she slammed it into the hacker's face with an impressive spin.

Sombra, maintaining some of her momentum she gathered by running, flew down the loading bay ramp and crashed face first onto the dirty ground in front of it with a very distinctive, dull and entirely unpleasant sound. Hana came running toward Sombra, looking like she was in pain simply from watching. She noticed that Widowmaker up at the ramp seemed to be fresh out of fucks to give. Figures, Hana thought, she doesn't care at all. Psycho. Murderer. She looked at the groaning Sombra on the ground and then glared up at Widow. A careless glance was all she got as a reply.

"Zip tie her. And don't let her out of your sights. If she escapes, you are responsible, child." Widowmaker told DVa with commanding voice, authority dripping from every word, like she had been doing little else in her life but leading secret operations and commanding soldiers. Which in a way was true. Back at Talon Widowmaker was, no matter of her status inside the organization, superior to the common soldier.

"Hey, where are you going?" DVa demanded, noticing that Widow had jumped down the landing bay and was about to head off into the dark alley behind the Helios.

"Elsewhere. Take care of the target." Widow replied, before pushing a finger to her ear. "We got her. Come back here, I'm sure the child needs some help with carrying."

"Got it, we're on the way" Tracer's bodiless voice replied. Widow had already vanished into the back entrance.

DVa in the meantime was on top of Sombra, pulling the hacker's arms behind her back and tying them together with a cable fixer. The Latina made a groaning noise when Hana pulled her back up and leaned her against a dumpster where Sombra slumped down together.

"You ok?" DVa asked, crouching down in front of the captive. She kept a little distance, though. Just in case.

"My whole body hurts." Sombra groaned with a deep frown on her forehead. "That bitch is such a loony." She let her head sink against the dumpster and taking a look at the young Asian girl in front of her. Long brown hair framed her face which was decorated with pink war paint. Rather cute, if Sombra was honest. There was no way this girl was any threat to her. However, her hands were tied behind her back and her head was spinning like crazy. Still, the Asian didn't strike her as someone who would shoot her because of anything, so she relaxed a little. "I must have suffered some brain damage." She grunted ungracefully.

"Wait, what?" For a second there was concern written on DVa's face. She deeply regretted that the second Sombra began to chuckle throatily.

"I meant the crazy bitch. The crazy dead bitch. I'm seeing things."

"Huh?" DVa asked, cocking her head, before she counted two and two together and realized what Sombra was referring to. Of course. The hacker had no way of knowing that Amélie Lacroix was very much alive. "You mean Widowmaker? She knocked you out."

"Impossible. The spider got blown up with that freighter back in Diskon eight months ago. She is dead." Sombra stated.

DVa snorted, rolling her eyes. "Morally, maybe. But, unfortunately, otherwise very much alive. But I wish you were right."

Sombra paused for a second, mustering her captor and felt her lips form a cheeky smile. She chuckled, shifting a little to make herself more comfortable. As comfortable as one could be leaning against a rusting dumpster.

"What's your name, chica?" the hacker asked.

"Why do you want to know?" Hana narrowed her eyes and Sombra couldn't help but grin even more.

"My, my. Aren't we suspicious? I don't want to call you chica all the time." She paused dramatically, winking at Hana. "Unless you like that? Chica..."

"Wha-" DVa's blush was too cute, it made Sombra smile softly and tilt her head ever so slightly. It was so easy getting the young Asian to react. Still, Sombra really wanted to know her name, not just tease her. Not that it wasn't fun to do that.

"Besides, I'm sure you know who I am, don't you? It would only be fair." Sombra shrugged, watching the other woman's reaction carefully. She seemed to hesitate, before sighing.

"Fine. My name is Song Hana. But everyone calls me DVa." Hana said, watching as Somba's devious smirk grew warm for a moment.

"That's a cute name, Hana. It's nice to meet you, I'd shake your hand, but..." Sombra laughed easily, apparently not at all bothered by her situation. She was so laidback and cool, it reminded Hana about Lúcio. The thought about him made her swallow and she forgot whatever reply was on her tongue, so Sombra continued.

"We're going to get along well, amiga." she teased and smiled, but DVa only tried to glare at her. Well, at least as much as adorable Hana was able to glare. Her facial expression was rather endearing.

"I'm not your friend, Sombra. Ooh, I can't stand you hackers. You give those of us with skill a bad name." Hana said sharply, but didn't actually feel as hostile toward the Latina as she sounded. It was the bitterness speaking out of her.

Sombra chuckled again, but this time it felt almost faked. "You know that's not the kind of hacking I do, right?" she asked, her voice not as easygoing anymore. She was more serious all of a sudden, as if this point was important to her, but still, her smile stayed on her lips.

"Yeah right. Cheater. Liar." Hana snapped. She didn't know why, but DVa felt like she needed to defend herself. Her eyes locked with Sombra's in that moment and Hana could have sworn that the weird purple of the hacker's iris had just grown a shade darker.

"I am not a liar. Nor am I a cheater." Sombra stated firmly, hurt flashing over her face. Her eyes burned into DVa's for a moment, before she looked away as if she was reminded of something which she couldn't stand thinking about. "I'd prove it..." she whispered.

DVa felt a pang of guilt grip her heart, she didn't mean to be mean. She opened her mouth to reply something, but was cut off by Zarya and Tracer approaching.

"Didn't get far, did you, Olivia Colomar?" Zarya said mockingly crossing her massive arms over her chest.

Sombra's head snapped up and every trace of the playful, smiling woman from before was all but vanished. "¡Vete al infierno, pendejo!" she hissed angrily, jerking forward as much as her restraints allowed her to.

"No one speaks your language" Zarya replied, grabbing Sombra by her shoulder and pulling her up with one hand, quickly she put her arm underneath Sombra's, which still was bound to her back, and placed her hand on her neck. "You move slow and in the direction I tell you to. One false move and I break your neck, clear?" just to prove her point Zarya squeezed Sombra's neck a little.

"Fuck you!" The hacker snarled angrily.

"You know Sombra, if I were you, I'd consider myself lucky that the commander wants us to bring you in for questioning." Lena said, joining the group.

"Ohh, and whatever does your commander want to know?" the hacker asked, tilting her head in a mocking manner.

"You'll see soon enough." Tracer replied sternly. She would not let herself be wound up by that woman. She would not take the bait.

"You don't know yourself, do you? Tracer." Sombra smirked. "Doesn't that bother you?"

"Oh, I know that you will disappear into a very small, very dark cell and that doesn't bother me at all." Lena returned and gestured Zarya to take Sombra away. She was reasonably proud that she got the last word.

DVa was sitting on an empty cardboard box, watching carefully. Her arms were wrapped around her slender body and she looked a little uncomfortable. Tracer walked over to her and leaned against an iron pillar next to the box.

"Where's Widow?" she asked and DVa merely shrugged. Frowning, Tracer pressed a finger to her ear "Widowmaker? Come in, where are you?"

"Taking care of my special orders. Don't wait up, I'll see you at the rendezvous-point in a few hours."

"Alright. Good luck then." Tracer said, terminating the connection.

"What's she doing?" Hana asked, half looking up at Lena.

"She has a special assignment from the commander. We'll meet her later at the shuttle." Lena said and moved to follow Zarya. Hana reluctantly tagged along.

"Hey, you ok, luv?" Lena asked, turning around and holding an arm out. She put it around Hana's shoulders as soon as the younger woman was by her side.

"Yeah... it's just." DVa trailed off and for a few steps the only sound came from the dry snow scrunching under their boots. Her eyes wandered along the traces in the snow before them, one large and heavy, one light and small. She found Zarya still having an iron grip on Sombra a few steps ahead of them. She could hear the Latina insulting their comrade and Zarya grumbling in response, obviously annoyed and probably convincing herself that breaking the prisoner's neck would cause more trouble than it would be worth. It was almost funny to see how Sombra couldn't take her situation seriously at all. Or at least, she made it look like she couldn't.

"What is it?" Lena pressed, not willing to let Hana off the hook so easily and not liking how her friend gazed ahead of them, like she was somewhere else.

A few moments of silence passed, before Hana decided to speak up again. "When you told me about life always being too short, I don't know unni... I guess, I never really thought there would be so little time. I knew that people would die eventually, I just never believed it would be so... soon. It feels... weird, does that make sense to you?" she asked hopefully glancing at Tracer.

Lena nodded after a moment. "It's ok to mourn Lúcio, you know?"

"I know. And I did. At first I was devastated, but... It's not like we ever really talked. It was a silly crush and I feel so stupid now. I liked the idea of being with him, but... well, I never was, right? I miss the idea more than I miss him and I feel horrible for saying that. But I didn't really know Lúcio."

Lena gave that statement a lot of thought and didn't come up with a quick reply. She wasn't sure how to put it, but what Hana said made some sense to her. DVa only always looked from the distance, fancied Lúcio in the same way a teenage girl fancies the singer of a pop boy-band. She couldn't miss the person Lúcio was, simply because she never dared to get to know him as a person. Weird as that sounded, it was perfectly reasonable.

"Unni?" DVa asked carefully. "Does that make me a bad person? I feel like it's what Widowmaker said, that some live and some die and that there should never be remorse. But that's so cruel and I really don't want to be cruel."

"No, Hana." Lena said and smiled at her friend "It does not make you a bad person. And what Amélie said is true, but not when you lose a friend. She was talking about our enemies, the people who are out to hurt us and the ones we care about." Tracer stopped and pulled DVa in a tight hug. "Listen, the dead are dead, they don't expect anything from us. You grieved the way you felt it was right for Lúcio. That it didn't take you months to process your feelings is perfectly fine. You didn't know him well. Trust me, he would have wanted you to move on quickly and enjoy life again. He certainly lived that way. You never know how much time is left. Make good memories of him and move on. It's what he would have done." Lena smiled and patted Hana's shoulder.

"Now come on, we can't let Zarya take all of Sombra's insults."

She didn't insult me, DVa thought privately, but nodded anyway, following Tracer hot on her heels.

-/-

Katya had just told her bodyguard posted at the entrance of the private room to order a double shot of vodka for her to help calm down her nerves. He wordlessly obliged. Now she would just have to wait for it.

It was over. Finally over. Sombra was dealt with and would hopefully never intrude Katya's life again. That fact hadn't fully registered in Katya's head yet, she still felt tense and uneasy. But everything would be alright now that Sombra was gone. She didn't particularly care what happened to the hacker from this point on, as long as they would never see each other again.

She leaned back on the soft white couch and closed her eyes for a moment. That was until she heard a shuffling noise somewhere in front of her, followed by something which sounded distinctively like heels on glass. Katya opened her eyes.

It was the waitress, carrying a glass tablet with a long, thin bottle placed on it and a shot glass made of ice. Katya perked up an eyebrow at the outfit of the waitress. Or lack thereof. White high heels, matching stockings, garter belts, a micro skirt of the same color, and a revealing bikini top to match were hardly an outfit. Her long flawless hair was either a wig or dyed snow white too, but her ice blue eyes were definitely natural.

"Your shot of Vodka, Lady Volskaya." The waitress said, walking around the couches before she poured some of the transparent liquid into the shot glass and placed it on the table. Katya nodded curtly and took the shot, gesturing for the waitress to refill. Which she did, this time placing the bottle on the table, too.

"What's your name?" Katya asked, as she took the second shot.

"Uh... it's Anya." The waitress replied, her voice trembling a little bit. She wasn't used to customers talking to her beyond placing their order. She was only paid for bringing them drinks and looking nice. Conversation was usually no part of her job, and surely not conversing with the most powerful woman of Russia.

"Anya." Ms. Volskaya smiled. "That's a nice name. Care to keep me some company, Anya?"

"I... uhh." Anya blushed, clutching the tablet to her chest. ShitwhatdoIsayWhatdoIsay...

Katya laughed. "I'm sorry. You are working, how silly of me. Please, forget I said anything."

Anya nodded and turned to leave, but stopped after a few steps and turned around. "My shift ends at 11pm." She said nervously, biting her lower lip in a terribly cute way. "If you still want my company then." The young waitress, she couldn't have been older than 19, pressed out, completely red in her face. She was so adorable.

Katya only smiled. It was a decision made on a whim, she usually didn't do that. "I'll have a car picking you up."

-/-


Watchpoint Gibraltar, around the same time

"I assure you Mr. Lindholm, my results are more than accurate." Symmetra crossed her arms over her chest, tapping a finger onto her biceps in a more than annoyed manner, while she watched the engineer chase after an easily fascinated Bastion. The robot had been in this workshop for days, but still hadn't lost its morbid curiosity for literally everything. A few cables were hooked up to his main processing core and his memory database, so Bastion's movement was limited. Despite that, the robot still rummaged through the workshop, not really caring about any direction to sit down. Much to its owner's dismay.

Torbjörn just grumbled. "Not possible. Where ever you got that piece of code from, it's not part of the original programming." He said, taking a few tools, which Bastion had picked up, out of the machines hands and put them back into a toolbox. "And for the thousandth time, it's Torbjörn. My father was Mr. Lindholm. The old grinch." He said grouchily. Bastion beeped sadly, but quickly found something else which he found interesting. Beeping happily the machine headed for a shelf containing various round objects of different color, only to notice that the cables connected to his body kept him barely out of reach. It beeped in frustration, looking at Torbjörn expectedly and tilting his metal head a little.

"What?"

"Beeeeduuuu..." Bastion said and Torbjörn followed the machines line of sight.

"No." he said. "No, I won't let you play with that."

"Deeeeeewwww..."

"No. It doesn't even work."

"De-de-de-deewwww." Bastion tilted his head again, this time into the other direction.

"Urgh, fine. Whatever, damn machine" Torbjörn reached out and took a yellow orb out of the storing-shelf before he passed it to Bastion. The huge robot took it into its hand with care, giving it a testing squeeze. The orb was flexible, almost like balloon filled with goo-like fluid. Bastion made a couple of happy beeping noises.

"If it is occupied, we might actually get some work done." Torbjörn said, turning his attention back to Satya who had been following the entire exchange between the dwarf and the huge killer machine. She was now giving him a very pointed look.

"Or so you say." She said with a level voice. "He is almost like a child, I suppose."

"It." Torbjörn corrected. "And it is not a child. It's a 7'3" tall killer robot with some kind of malfunction."

"A highly fascinating malfunction." Satya said, perking up an eyebrow and drawing great pleasure from the annoyed huff Torbjörn made. All the time they had been working together they tried to get underneath each other's skin. Why they did this no one really knew, they just did. Both Satya Vaswani as well as Torbjörn were exceptionally smart people, experts in their fields and artists of engineering. Maybe not I-can-screw-over-death-itself-Ziegler smart, but definitely more to that end of the spectrum than the other. They probably just enjoyed having someone around who appreciates their sense of humor and their smart potshots.

"One which should not be there. Here-" he pointed at some lines of code on the display they were both working on, the one Bastion was hooked up to. "Those lines of code should be active, but they aren't."

"Which is great, because those are his-"

"-its-"

"-his killing-subroutines. I for myself prefer those turned off while I am in the same room with him."

Torbjörn was sick of both grumbling to himself and correcting her so he just shook his head. "And your explanation is that it's getting deactivated by a whole different sub-system?"

"Precisely. Though I suppose a sub-system is the wrong word. It's more like a new base-programming. The processes of his AI-patterns are running on an extremely deep level."

"Which is impossible."

"Why?" Vaswani challenged and Torbjörn groaned.

"This is a standard issue SST Laboratories Siege Automaton E54, true or false?"

"True."

"It has not been tampered with?"

"Not to our knowledge, no."

"See. I was involved in the development of those things. They do not come with a fully developed AI. They have base-level decision making modules, but other than that they rely on networking and an uplink to an actual, centralized AI. A group of a dozen units could in theory come close to something which someone might confuse for an AI, but it really isn't. Why do you think those things were following those damned God Programs like puppets? Because they got their whole intelligence from a central system. Which was the God Program itself after it had overtaken the right servers."

"That may be the case," Satya countered. "But then, how do you explain this?" She gestured toward the display, which was visualizing random fragments of code.

"I have no idea." Torbjörn admitted "We aren't even fully aware of what it does yet. It might just be... code-trash."

Vaswani couldn't contain a short laugh. "Code-trash? Mr. Lindholm, you can't seriously think this is only-"

PLOPP

"BEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

They both spun around to see a very panicked Bastion covered in a thick, sticky yellow fluid. Trying to get the substance off its frame, but with little success. It was only spreading the goo further, thick lines of yellow slime spreading between his arms and his body, limiting the machines movements.

"See, that's why I didn't want you to touch that, you big stupid tin can!" Torbjörn grumbled as he moved past Bastion, who was only falling into a fit of rapid beeping sounds. "Hold still, you are only going to make it worse" he admonished and started rummaging through an old box full of apparently useless crap until he found what he had been looking for. Whatever it was looked like a fire-extinguisher, just silver and not red.

"Really, I should just leave you like this." Torbjörn muttered into his beard, but started to use the fire-extinguisher thingy. A white cloud engulfed Bastion and when it disappeared again, the yellow sticky goo was gone.

Satya looked curiously "If you allow the question, Torbjörn. What kind of weapon was that?"

"No weapon. I developed this for the police. They wanted something for effective crowd control. Throw a couple of those things into a raging mob and done. They won't go anywhere anymore."

"Why was it never used?"

"The first person we tested it on got it on his face. He suffocated."

"Oh..."

"Happens. Back to our problem at hand." He said and looked sternly at bastion. "And this time you will sit down here and be still until we are done, got that?"

Bastion beeped ashamed, lowering his head. He walked over to the console the two humans were working on and let itself fall onto its rear.

"Maybe we should consult Zenyatta?"

"Like hell I will ask another tin can for help figuring out what happened to my own invention. We'll get behind this. It's not like we didn't make any progress."

"That is true. May I suggest then that we start anew with the core process diagnosis, but this time focus more on the deep system layer side and not so much on the behavioral patterns?"

"Agreed."

-/-


St. Petersburg, Russia, 0129 hours.

Katya couldn't sleep. And not because of the usual reasons. She couldn't sleep because her brain was going haywire rerunning the events of the past few hours in what felt like an infinite loop. Not that the things she saw were unpleasant. Not at all. She just couldn't believe that she actually did it. And for some reason, Katya wasn't talking about the whole Sombra business, which, all things considered, went smoothly and with surprisingly little incidents.

No, she was thinking about everything which happened after Sombra and the Overwatch agents were already gone again. About Anya and the evening they had together. Katya was thinking about how she ended up in her own queen sized bed with a beautiful girl half her age curled up next to her, the girl's head resting on Volskaya's shoulder. Anya had an arm draped over the director, like she was the only thing anchoring her in reality. That unique snow white hair Anya had was falling over the soft features of her cute face, lifting and sinking with every gentle breath the waitress took. Smiling fondly, Katya gently wiped the hair out of the way and tucked it behind Anya's ear, so it wouldn't tickle. Despite what the director initially thought, her guest's strange hair wasn't a wig after all. It wasn't even dyed, it was just plain white with no color at all.

The whole evening had been bizarre and so not like what Katya usually did. For some reason, she had decided to set all her usual habits at naught. She had picked up Anya at the agreed time in front of the Helios. Personally, that is, Katya didn't just send a car to have the waitress picked up. It made the CEO of Volskaya industries smile fondly when the young woman sat beside her in the luxurious limousine, entirely uncertain what she was supposed to do there and probably not entirely convinced that the soft leather wouldn't suddenly eat her whole either. As it turned out, Anya was just generally rather shy and blushed easily. For Katya, it was really adorable how her date was not sure what was ok to talk about and what wasn't. Katya had little difficulties to tell that her companion was filled to the brim with questions, but she had to pry them out of Anya in the beginning.

They had agreed to get something to eat and Katya insisted that Anya would decide where they would go. The waitress said that she probably didn't know a single place Katya would normally go to, she was afraid that it just wouldn't be fancy enough for the rich businesswoman. Anya didn't know that this had been the whole point why Ms. Volskaya suggested the idea. She didn't want to go to some posh place. She wanted to see where Anya normally went. How her life looked like. So, after some convincing and carefully placed flirts, they had ended up in a small, cozy restaurant in one of the darker back alleys of St. Petersburg. Somewhere where Katya had truly never been before in her entire life. It wasn't the cleanest place on earth, but the food was dirt cheap. It was supposed to be some kind of soljanka, which looked like it was cooked to a pulp. Despite this it tasted really delicious and Katya found herself eating her entire helping, something she usually never did. Anya was apparently close to the owner of the restaurant and so she found herself in front of a refilled plate the second she had finished her first one. During dinner shy and insecure Anya was starting to open up more and more, talking, joking and laughing with Katya. She learned that the waitress had four sisters two of which were still very young. When they left Anya explained that she came to this place often after work to grab a cheap meal. They went to a bar after that and Katya managed to get Anya to feel more or less comfortable around her. Admittedly there might have been a little vodka involved to help the younger woman lighten up, but Katya was glad about that. She had never enjoyed herself this much in a long time.

When the evening had progressed already and tiredness had started claiming its toll, Ms. Volskaya had taken Anya home into one of the cheaper areas in St. Petersburg. Anya had been strangely quiet the entire ride there. When they had been sitting in the car in front of the industrialized apartment block, Anya started shifting around in her seat uneasily. She had an ashamed blush on her face when she told Katya that she had such a lovely evening and so much fun and that she would definitely invite her up for coffee or anything, but she admitted that she shared a two room flat with her four sisters and that it just wasn't possible. Anya was about to flee the car in that moment when Katya placed a hand on the younger woman's thigh. She asked if she'd rather share a bed this night than a flat and only with one person and not four others.

By the time they made it through Katya's front door they were both already half naked and making out wildly, sucking on their lips and tucking on the remains of their clothes.

And now Katya couldn't sleep despite being completely exhausted and wholly satisfied. She couldn't sleep because for the first time in longer than she cared to admit, she felt happy. She felt appreciated as a person, not as a public figure. She felt wanted as Katya, not as Director Volskaya. Anya didn't seem to expect anything, she didn't demand anything. Hell, they had almost gotten into an argument over dinner, because Anya insisted she would pay for her own meal. A smile spread across Katya's lips as she idly played with Anya's white hair. She had never been with a woman before, but so far, this was absolutely great. The sleeping girl, she was hardly more, mumbled something and snuggled closer to Katya's sleeping form.

Just when Katya noticed Anya's slow and steady heartbeat against her skin, the phone on the nightstand buzzed. The rattling noise on the glass nightstand was loud and annoying against the silence of the bedroom. Katya grabbed the device to check what it wanted and was entirely unpleased with the brightness of the display, blinking a couple of times to get used to the sudden light. She had a text message from Sasha, the man she usually saw for her bodily pleasures. Which was weird, because he usually never texted her. Frowning she opened the message.

Katya,

I'm sorry to bother you, but this is extremely important. I'm in deep trouble and I really need your help. I don't know who else to ask, you are my only hope. Please. I'll do anything you want me to, but please. I beg you, come to my place as soon as you can. Please.

Sasha

Ms. Volskaya blinked. This was mildly worrisome. Sasha was a nice guy, a decent guy. Someone who usually didn't get into any kind of trouble and who always made time for her. It was late and she was comfy, true, but he sounded desperate. Also, she wouldn't be able to sleep anyway. Curiosity would keep her awake.

I'll be there in half an hour.

She texted back, before carefully slipping out of bed. She quickly grabbed some clothes and put them on, before she went back to the bed and sat down on the edge.

"Anya?" she whispered gently. "Anya? Wake up, Snowflake."

"Mhh..." Anya groaned groggily, trying to get her eyes to comply with her brains commands to open. It took her a couple of tries until they stayed open and didn't flutter shut again, before she shot up in the bed like a scalded cat. "Shit! How late is it? I'm so sorry, I should have left! You clearly don't need-"

Katya shut her up by stealing a kiss. "Hush." she said with a fond smile and pulled the still naked girl into her lap. "It's still deep in the night. I have to go and take care of an emergency. You stay right here where you are and sleep. Feel like home." She kissed her tenderly and felt how Anya immediately relaxed again. "I wouldn't mind if you were still here when I come back. If you want. We could have breakfast."

Anya beamed at her, resting her head against Katya's shoulder "Then I will wait for you. And make breakfast... Do you have any toast?"

Katya couldn't help but smile, because Anya was already fast asleep again.

-/-

Her punctuality was something Katya always took great pride in. So when she said she'd be at Sasha's place in half an hour that was true. It was exactly 30 minutes after she had read the text when she knocked on the door of Sasha's apartment. He had a nice middle class flat in one of the better areas of St. Petersburg. Mostly paid by Ms. Volskaya for the sole reason that she didn't like sharing and didn't want him to see any other customers. That meant she covered his living expenses. Which was fine by her.

A few moments after she knocked, the door was opened and Sasha, a man with blonde hair, blue eyes and of athletic build greeted her. He was usually well tanned, but today his face had lost all color. He stepped aside to let her in, not uttering a single word. She found herself right in his dark living room, since there was no vestibule.

"So, what's the big emergency Sasha? What can I do for you?" Katya asked while Sasha closed the door again. She slipped out of her beige coat and tossed it over the couch. "Why are the lights out? I can barely see." She said before she turned around. That was the second the lights in Sasha's flat came to life and Katya felt like she was rooted to the spot. She couldn't believe what she saw. It could not be. It was impossible. No. Why?

"I am so sorry." Sasha whispered, looking ashamed and scared for his life at the same time. The reason for that was clear. There was a third person in the room leaning to the wall next to the door, right next to the light switch. It was a woman with purple hair and glowing golden eyes. She was wearing a tightly closed black trench coat and had a pistol with a long suppressor pointed at Sasha.

There was no introduction necessary.

"W-what are you doing here?!" Volskaya pressed out, every ounce of curiosity for Sasha's situation vanished. She was sure she couldn't even spell the word curiosity right now.

"How rude, director. Good evening to you too." Widowmaker said in fluent Russian as she walked a few steps into the room, keeping the gun pointed at Sasha. Her expression was unreadable as she continued. "You seem a little surprised." She said and was indeed curious about this herself. Volskaya had contacted Talon, that's what Morrison told her. They knew because the protocol appeared on Reaper's desk and he was tasked to find a way to retrieve Sombra before Overwatch could. He would send his team tomorrow. Until then everything would be said and done. The question remained. Why was the director surprised to see her? She probably expected Talon to send someone else than their master assassin, which would make sense. Volskaya had no way of knowing that Widow didn't work for Talon anymore. She probably thought that Talon found out about Volskaya contacting both Overwatch as well as them capturing Sombra and that Widow was now here to collect on some debts.

Then again, it didn't really matter. Widow had her orders and she would carry them out. Amélie had promised to eradicate Talon once and for all. That woman did business with Talon. To Widowmaker there was hardly a difference.

Katya Volskaya was as pale as an ancient marble statue, drained from all color, she could only open and close her mouth like a fish out of the water. What was going on here? She didn't contact Talon, she didn't take their deal, she didn't do anything to warrant Widowmaker's presence here. And why here? Why in Sasha's home? Why was she pointing a gun at him? It didn't make any sense.

"No reply? Fine. I'll tell you how we will proceed now." Amélie said calmly but with her trademark smirk. She looked at Katya with an expression the other woman didn't like for a second. She didn't know which of the many worrisome factors of this scenario caused the uneasy feeling in her stomach, but it was there and it told her that nothing good would come out of this meeting. Widowmaker shouldn't be here. There was only one reason Talon had to send her anywhere and that reason was not to have negotiations. But the assassin didn't seem to care about Katya's inner panic, as she calmly continued coming closer.

"Say, is she your lover? Do you like her?" Widow asked of Sasha, her smirk changing to an almost warm smile. Yet the danger lurking in her eyes was not lost on Katya. This was an assassin, not a friend, a predator during the hunt, not a woman, an artist of death, the spider which lured her prey into her web until it was too late. Every fiber of Katya's body screamed to run away as fast as she humanly could while screaming for help. But she knew that she'd probably be dead in the same moment she'd make a sudden move.

"Well... errr.. I..." Sasha replied, rooted to the spot.

"I pay him to sleep with me. This is not concerning him in the slightest." Katya tried to sound determined.

"Oh, I know that. I was just curious. It would have been more fun if you two had an actual romance, but this will have to do." She said as she reached Katya. Suddenly the director had a large knife on her throat, the cold metal digging deeply into the skin.

"What are you doing?!" Katya exclaimed, but immediately shut up when Widowmaker pressed the knife harder to her throat. What was going on here? The gun was still pointed at Sasha and Katya herself was in no less danger it seemed. Where was Widowmaker going with this?

"Stop, let her go!" Sasha exclaimed.

"Quiet. Both of you." Widowmaker hissed and was happy to see that both her hostages complied perfectly.

"Good. Now, let's see. Why don't we all take a seat?" Widow suggested and waved her pistol over to the large U-shaped couch. Sasha hesitated but did as he was told, walking over to his dark brown couch where he sat down. Widowmaker followed with Katya, choosing the place opposite to Sasha.

"Listen, you don't need Sasha for this, do you? Just let him go." Katya tried, but only got roughly shoved onto the sofa with Widowmaker disturbingly close to her right.

"You just be happy that I didn't prepare for that white haired pet of yours. You seem fond of her." Widow hissed.

That shut Katya up. Anya. Fuck. This is bad. Really bad. But Katya couldn't do anything, not with the knife still at her throat and the gun aimed at Sasha.

"I'm pretty sure you have seen something like this before. I figured you have, since you sell them." Widowmaker stated and held the pistol in front of the director's eyes.

She nodded.

"Great. Have you held a gun before?"

Katya nodded again, frowning.

"Even better." Amélie smirked, handing a stunned Lady Volskaya her gun. "Be a dear and hold that for me." Widow said. "Oh, and I probably don't need to mention this, but I'll cut your throat if your try and point it anywhere else than dear Sasha over there." She added, reaching into the pocket of her coat and pulled out two letters. She let one fall on the small coffee table in front of them and stuffed the other one back into her pocket.

"What's that?" Katya asked, leaning forward carefully.

"Don't recognize the handwriting?" Amélie smirked as Volskaya paled even more. If that was even possible without becoming transparent, but apparently, it was.

"It's mine! How did you do this? Why-" she couldn't finish the sentence as Widowmaker had grabbed her hand and forced her to pull the trigger a couple of times. The gun made a few muffled sizzling noises, riddling poor Sasha with bullets. Would Widowmaker have shot herself, she would have used a simple double-tap. One bullet to the chest, one to the head. But that wasn't what an emotional amateur like the director would do in that situation.

The director tried to scream, but Amélie immediately let go of the knife and pushed her hand onto Katya's mouth. Someone screaming wouldn't do her good. The less noise, the better. Widow paid extra attention to keeping a tight hold of the gun and Katya's hand holding it.

"Shhh." Amélie whispered, bending Katya's arm around while still forcing her to hold the pistol. "It's your farewell note. Really passionate too, don't you agree? Filled with regret and angst. Quite touching, how you come clean about your marriage and how it was all a lie. How you are fed up with hiding and only want to be united with your lovely boyfriend. I almost cried." She said as she removed the hand from the director's mouth.

"Why are you doing this?" Katya asked, her hands shaking badly. She wasn't even fighting back her tears anymore. "You shouldn't be here. How did you know where I am?"

Widow only smirked "Still didn't figure it out? I wasn't sent by Talon."

"What? Wait! I didn't-"

"Morrison sends his regards. Traitor."

The panic was written all over Katya's face. "Wait! I never contacted-"

Katya's body went limp in her arms and Widowmaker let go. The lifeless corpse of the director sunk to the brown couch, dark red blood quickly pooling on the leather surface. Amélie picked up her knife again and left the pistol where it was.

The experts of the Russian forensic department would later confirm that the burn marks on director Volskaya's hand matched the unlicensed gun found at the scene and deduce that this was indeed a murder-suicide, just as it was stated in Katya's farewell letter.

-/-


A/N:

Alright, that's it for this round of Addictions, I really hope you lot all enjoyed it.

Beta reading was done by the lovely Jfb, without whom I couldn't do this.

"You wanted me to remind you to mention that Tipeee thing."

-Thank you Amélie, already did.

"Fine fine. So are you done yet?"

-I think, yeah.

"parfait. Then come on, Angela is waiting."

-uh?

"Dinner, patate? You promised to take us all?"

-riiight. I did. Be with you in a second. Where is Lena?

"We have to pick her up on the way."

Ok, so yeah. I gotta go and get some food with the ladies. I hope you all have a great time and of course I want to say a huge thank you to everyone who is reading this, leaving comments or adds favs/follows. Your support means more to me than you all know.

And you know if you want to buy me a coffee now, you can :P

See you in the next one. Which won't take me this long, I think. But the break I took was really worth, I feel much better.

o7

E82

-/-


Translations:

¡Vete al infierno, pendejo = (Spanish) Go to hell, asshole.