Chapter Text
The chamber that Talon reserved for meetings of the inner Council was not a particularly cozy place at the best of times, but the atmosphere this evening was even more hostile than usual as the lights dimmed, and a projection began to play on the central display.
A facility that had been set up with great secrecy in Norway, half dedicated to research and weapons development, the other half to training more specialized operatives. Assassins. Snipers. Assault troops.
Heavily armed, well staffed, and constantly vigilant, yet practically invisible to the world at large.
In seconds it became a scene of complete chaos.
A patrol entering the camera’s view came to a sudden halt, helmeted heads turning back and forth as if searching for the source of a sound. A blur of motion, too fast to follow, and a flare of bright blue light just before an explosion sent the heavily armored men and women flying like candlepins.
One of the survivors who had kept his footing whirled, raising his rifle to fire a three round burst into the night. Before he could squeeze the trigger again, the back of his helmet (and a good portion of his head) vaporized from the impact of a high powered slug, sending his corpse slumping to the ground.
As the footage continued, troops boiled out of the concealed entrances to face the unseen intruders, some accompanied by their own enhanced operatives, others simply attempting to overwhelm them by sheer numbers, but the outcome remained the same.
Some blasted by pulse bombs, some choking to death on poison. A number suffering disabling wounds from small caliber fire in vulnerable joints and the weaker areas of their armor, others dropped one by one by precisely aimed sniper fire, as if being knocked down by the finger of a vengeful god.
A few of their higher level assets lasted longer, even appeared at one point to disable the blurring shape that had wreaked so much havoc, but there was an odd distortion in the footage, as if part of the frame had suddenly been cut from one spot and transferred to the other, and the two assassins who had combined to take it down suddenly slumped to the ground, a single bullet having pierced both of their hearts.
Akande Ogundimu’s voice rumbled out of the darkness like a particularly displeased earthquake. “I trust I do not have to tell you what followed this...display.”
Maximilien’s head tilted slightly, the omnic’s eyes and sensors gleaming like rubies in the darkness. “The entire facility?”
“What little they did not damage or destroy, the authorities swept up when they followed to seize the building. A complete loss.”
Max let out something remarkably close to a sigh. “The third such incident in as many months.”
“Indeed.” Akande leaned forward as the projection winked out. “But even a single ‘incident’ would have been too many.”
He gestured to the screen, and the security footage was replaced with a dossier.
Widowmaker stared blankly at the camera that had captured her file photo, her skin just beginning to take on the distinctive cyanosis that was now as much her signature as the sniper’s uncanny precision and spider motif.
“We are all familiar with Lacroix and her...capabilities,” Max pointed out coolly. “Even if we didn’t have the footage, no one else is so precise.”
Akande nodded, and after a brief display of footage from the sniper’s training and deployment as an agent of Talon, a new file came onto the screen.
The woman grinning at the camera wore a heavily modified Overwatch cadet uniform, complete with the blue hot dog hat, a bulky armored device strapped to her chest, a glowing blue disc suspended just above her heart.
“Miss Oxton is a similarly known quantity,” Akande observed. “An unfortunate consequence of our attempt to sabotage the Slipstream project.”
Max’s eyes flared, and the screen shifted to footage of Oxton, now in her more typical “Tracer” garb, flitting around Akande as he punched empty air, her pistols lashing his back and neck with fire when she reappeared.
“A ‘consequence’ you failed to remove,” the omnic observed coldly.
“I am aware, Max.” Akande’s hands flexed, but his voice remained dangerously calm. “A failure twice over.” He leaned back, the shadows swallowing him up again. “Between her own efforts, and her later... disruption of Lacroix’s conditioning, I am very tired of our failures haunting us time and time again.”
Maximilien seemed as if he’d roll his eyes if he could. “So you would suggest...killing them? What haven’t we already tried? Make them try to kill each other? That’s how this fiasco started.”
Akande gave an acknowledging tilt of his head. “I do not wish to repeat our past mistakes, but I will admit Tracer was one of the only opponents who came close to eliminating Lacroix while she still served Talon.”
“Then I am very curious what you would suggest. It is not as if we can manufacture another one.”
From the back of the room, a pair of mismatched eyes gleamed, and a third voice joined the conversation.
“Are you so certain of that…?”
Four blocks away, Sombra sat up, her eyes wide as she listened to Moira elaborate on that idea.
Her heart pounding, her free hand flew up and began to open a new interface window for an encrypted message.
NEED TO MEET ASAP.
WE HAVE A BIG PROBLEM.
Even though Widowmaker (or, as she thought of herself more and more, Amélie Lacroix) would now admit that there were some things she felt, and felt deeply, she rarely let them show unless around her closest friends.
Now, as she watched the footage Sombra had brought them, her face was an expressionless mask. The only sign of her growing anger was the slow tightening of her knuckles as her hands clenched into fists.
“The process used to improve Lacroix,” Moira O’Deorain said as she stood from where she had been lurking, “was just that - a process. One which we have nearly a decade’s worth of data to help us refine and improve.”
The recorded Maximilien didn’t seem terribly impressed. “Hardly a guarantee of success. What prevents them from going rogue as well?”
Sanjay Gupta joined the conversation. “Simply sending another sniper - even one at Widowmaker’s level - seems like it would only solve part of the problem.”
Moira’s smile was as sharp and precise as one of her scalpels. “Indeed. But I would propose a more radical solution to that concern.”
Akande’s eyebrow rose. “Please elaborate, Doctor.”
“The circumstances which imbued Oxton with her fascinating abilities - the phenomenon Winston dubbed ‘chronal disassociation’ - were extensively documented. Between our own files, portions of the Blackwatch archives, and the data taken from Gibraltar, we have more than enough to replicate them.”
She turned her head just enough to look at where the woman being so coldly discussed was sitting.
Lena’s expression was anything but controlled, horror radiating from her as she stared at the screen, her jaw working but no words coming out.
She sympathized with her lover. After all, Moira was discussing some of the most painful and traumatic experiences in their lives, and referring to them as “replicable processes.”
The idea of someone being plucked off the street as she had been, then being subjected to what Lena had experienced…
Lena volunteered for the Slipstream. I knew that being married to Gérard exposed me to a certain amount of risk.
She remembered being filled with fear as she was interrogated, unsure where she was or what was going to happen. Knowing that Gérard would be trying to find her - would not stop until he found her - was the only thing that had kept her going.
(Until, of course, they used that faith to break her.)
The “subject” that Moira spoke of so blandly would not even have that faint chance of comfort.
Motion drew her eyes back to the screen. Moira had paced her way across the room, facing the others with the air of professor delivering a lecture.
“Even if you can put someone through a similar accident, there’s no guarantee it will give them similar abilities.”
“Isn’t there?” Moira radiated confidence. “After all, one of our own uses a variant of the Slipstream technology every day. We have every reason to expect that inducing the disassociation and then applying our own version of a chronal accelerator will provide a matching result.”
Sombra at least had the awareness to fidget in her chair when Lena gave her a look.
“Very well.” Akande rose from the table, his face disappearing into the shadows. “You may proceed, Moira. Please keep us apprised of your progress.”
Max’s body language suggested he was deeply unhappy about that development, but the omnic folded his arms and sank back into his chair rather than argue further.
Moira, on the other hand, looked like the cat who had gotten into the cream, radiating satisfaction.
I almost wonder if she was making plans to launch this project regardless of the outcome.
It would very much be like her, really. Moira would do whatever she felt necessary to indulge her scientific curiosity, but so much the better for her goals if Talon provided their backing and funding rather than her own resources or Oasis.
“I’ll begin immediately. Thank you, Akande.”
Ogundimu had begun to turn to leave, but at Moira’s words he turned back, his voice as cold and hard as granite.
“No more mistakes, O’Deorain. I will be...very disappointed...if this project leads to another costly failure.”
Sombra raised her hand to gesture at the projector, and the footage winked out. “The rest was pretty much what you’d expect. Max giving the doc his best angry glare, Gupta slinking out like the spineless asshole he is, and everyone leaving in as dramatic a way as possible.”
Lena drummed her fingers on the arm of her chair. “Noticed that You-Know-Who wasn’t in on the meeting.”
“Ever since we helped our favorite spider break the leash, Gabi’s been kept out of the big meetings.” Sombra looked a bit pained, but at the same time, not terribly repentant. “He’s doing his thing and waiting for his chance to get close again - he knows they’ll need him soon enough.”
Amélie hummed. “And you?”
Sombra just shrugged. “If they could keep me out, I wouldn’t be here, right?”
“Suppose you’ve got a point there,” Lena admitted. “Still, this...it’s like my worst nightmare.”
“Is it possible?”
Now it was Lena’s turn to shrug at her. “Have to talk to Winston. He never pinpointed the exact cause of what happened to the Slipstream. But if what they said is true, and Talon sabotaged the bird…”
Amélie looked towards the ceiling, but her mind was far away, and many years ago. “If she thinks it is possible, she will experiment on as many ‘candidates’ as she needs to reach her desired result.”
“I’ll keep tabs on her as best as I can,” Sombra promised. “I may not be able to get inside her private labs, but Gabe still goes to see her for ‘treatment’ every couple months. It’ll give me a window to check on her progress.”
“Do that. You know how to reach us, should it be needed.”
Sombra stood and swept herself into a dramatic bow. “Well, I guess that’s my cue to go, so - see you later!” A purple flash of light swallowed Sombra, and in a heartbeat she was gone.
“Well.” Lena buried her fingers into her hair with a sigh. “Want to call Winston next?”
“No.”
Before Lena could question her further, she rose and crossed the room, taking Lena’s hand and hauling her up and into a tight embrace.
“We can call him later,” Amélie whispered into Lena’s hair, the cocktail of fear, anger, and horror she had carefully repressed finally leaking into her voice as she felt Lena shudder against her. “For now…”
“Yeah,” Lena murmured as they held each other, not bothering to stop the tears that had begun to flow. “For now.”