Exsilium - A Widowtracer Fan Fiction

Two

Widow walked along the hallways of Horizon, gently dragging her fingers along the walls and doorways. She wondered what she would do for the rest of the time she was stuck here. Since she was now isolated from her leaders, and teammates, there would be no missions, no jobs. There would be nowhere to go, nothing to accomplish, no one to kill.

No one would say Widowmaker was monotonous, but her personality was certainly restricted. The only time she was ever able to feel anything was when she took life. She could not give it however, she was incapable. Science could be commended for that. No longer would she experience joyful laughter, or sorrow of any kind. Even her smiles were vindictive. She was programmed to kill, and that was that. There was nothing left about it to be said. When one is engineered to kill, there was no room for remorse or other "weak" emotions. Widow didn't let herself be too bothered by this, although she wasn't too sure if she could. She was convinced she liked being insusceptible to emotion, there was always an idea tugging at her that it was pointless to have feelings. She believed that to feel, was to distract, and to distract, was to fail.

Widowmaker. Did not. Fail. She was the best assassin the Talon organization had, and that wasn't even a matter of opinion, it was fact. They wanted to build the perfect assassin, and they succeeded. Widow thrived on the thrills of her job, the many deaths she left dragging behind her were the only things that made her feel alive anymore. She could never clear her conscience, she didn't have one left.

The sniper entered the observatory, admiring the large room. There was a colossal telescope pointed at a gargantuan window at the far end of the room. The aforementioned window was shut, and Widow was not certain how to unlock it at the present time. She was however, pleased with the amount of space in the room, and she evaluated soon after that she could in fact lock the doors to the observatory, for reasons such as keeping the agonizingly cheerful Overwatch agent away from her. In spite of the fact that Tracer didn't look too cheerful or pleased with the current situation, there was no question she didn't feel threatened when she saw her. She was the first to fire. Widow could not say why she didn't kill the little time jumping frog, but the fact that she didn't then, did not mean she wouldn't at different altercation. For now, she locked the observatory doors slid down the wall, and looked at the floor in front of her for a well deserved moment of silence, and solitude.

Lena finally pulled herself off the floor after a while, when she came to the realization that feeling hopeless was not going to help her at all. She took a few steps into a room with three alternate sleeping chambers, two of which were open. She tilted her head to the side, and wrinkled her nose at one in particular which had old food decorating the floor. She entered the first tiny room, taking note of its contents. It was certainly cleaner, but emptier as well. There was a bed in the corner of the room, and a unit at the foot of it which held a single green plant. She noticed a shelf above the bed that had a variety of children's toys, a small replica laptop, a blue elephant, a device poorly resembling a rubix cube, and a colorful rocket. There was two posters hung on the wall, both somehow related to the moon base.

Lena approached the bed a took a seat. She rested her elbows in her knees leaving her hands hanging between them. She studied her guns momentarily, before setting them on the ground beside her. She was still so perplexed as to why Widowmaker just fled from the fight. From what Lena knew, that was very out of character for Widow. Maybe the Talon sniper felt as if fighting was futile, and that just simply ignoring each other was a better plan. That certainly made sense to Lena, given the skill level she had seen from Widow, the two could fight for hours, and it wouldn't get either of them anywhere closer to going home. Lena sighed, she pushed her arms behind her to lean on her hands, and as she did, she felt herself touch something cold. She looked behind her, yanking her arms back as a defensive instinct. She picked up the hard, plastic jar with the peanut butter label on it. She frowned at this. She twisted the lid open to find it licked completely clean. She found it peculiar, that there would be a single jar of peanut butter in the room, spotless of its contents. Who would lick a jar of peanut butter so squeaky clean? This odd, seemingly insufficient moment with the peanut butter jar reminded her, she would need to eat.