Overwatch: Talon

Memories

"Enjoy your evening, sir" A greeter said to the pair in front of him. "You too, ma'am"
The man and woman walked arm-in-arm together, into a large hall. A fancy, French party they had just entered...with classic music and pompous guests everywhere. A large table extending meters was stacked high with luxurious drinks, and food such as lobster and scallops. It all looked very expensive, and it might as well be...the host of this magnificent event was a young man by the name of Alexander Iélie, who had recently just acquired the wealth of his father after his passing. The rising threat of a Second Omnic Crisis was claiming lives all other the world, yet the rich still found a way to blot it out and benefit from it somehow. It was typical of them.
Well, unfortunately for Alexander, Talon wanted his head...and they sent their best agents to accomplish this.
"I hate this outfit" Reaper complained. "Feels tight"
He was dressed in a classic, French tuxedo. Complete with the large shoulder pads, and the puffy wrists. He felt like a tool...he'd take his black cloak any day.
"The clothing is not meant for comfort, but for showing one's status" His companion told him, in a suiting French accent considering the environment. "In our case, we are of a high status indeed"
The woman beside him was dressed similarity to him, a tailed tuxedo and tie, puffy wrists, shoulder pads and boots...with a black and red colour scheme. She had worn an outfit like this before...but this time she decided to leave the visor and gauntlet. They were meant to fit in with the other partygoers, after all.
"You took hours putting on your makeup" Reaper muttered.
Widowmaker had spent extensive amounts of time to disguise her blue skin, using cosmetics. The result wasn't perfect, her skin still had a slight blue to it...but now it only seemed like she was suffering from minor cyanosis...instead of the usually-fatal form. She didn't do it to appear pretty or anything, merely only to prevent unwanted eyes gawking at her impossibly-blue skin.
It would only help them on the mission. The disguises were necessary, as Talon didn't want this particular mission being traced back to them. It would be obvious to who the culprits were if a blue woman and an undead wraith were doing the killing. Though Widow did offer to help Reaper disguise his disfigured face, but he was quick to decline...he got some strange glances, but people knew well enough to mind their own business.
"Iélie is unlikely to leave his chambers for the party, on the uppermost level" Widow explained as a whisper as they walked together, aimlessly. "But he's likely to come down at some point"
Reaper took a shrimp from the table and popped it in his mouth. Crunchy.
"Well, you're the femme fatale" He said with his mouth full. "I'm sure you got a thousand ways of leading men to their deaths, using only those looks of yours"
While that was true, she couldn't do anything until she even saw the man. Any respectful host would surely come to visit his guests...all they had to do, was wait.
"Yes" She agreed, looking around the party. "Perhaps in the meantime we should mingle? For appearances?"
Reaper didn't seem so enthusiastic about that idea. His face would probably have people running.
"I've told you before, I'm not good at socialising" He told her. "And neither are you"
She nodded, silently. That was alright, they could just...wait.
Widow looked into the ice sculpture on the table of Iélie himself, life-sized. She wondered how long it must've taken to sculpt this.
"Hmm" She hummed as she reached out to the ice foot, and touched it with her fingers...she barely felt the cold sensation in her tips.
Her reflection in the ice made herself just take a moment to stare at herself, while Reaper continued eating shrimp. Her "normalised" appearance could not stop old, unwanted memories from finding themselves in her head.

"Gerard, honey...who's this?" Amélie asked as her husband walked into the kitchen with a woman. "I'd have made tea if I knew we were having guests"
Gerard sat down at the table, and the dark-skinned woman approached Amélie to greet her. She had a tattoo under her left eye, but Amélie didn't know what it was meant to mean. She was also wearing a lengthy, blue coat...military? Likely one of Gerard's Overwatch cronies.
"Hello Amélie, I'm Ana Amari" Ana said with a warm greeting, reaching to shake her hand. "We haven't met, but Gerard speaks of you all the time. Doesn't shut up, quite frankly"
Gerard chuckled, and Amélie smiled. Ana Amari...yes, that was a familiar name...the sniper that Gerard worked with. She had heard of her in one of Gerard's stories to impress her. It always worked.
"Oh, well I'm happy to meet you, Ana" She returned her friendly hello. "I'll make some tea for you"
Ana thanked her, and then went to sit with Gerard. As Amélie began boiling water in a kettle, she couldn't help but overhear some of their conversation.
"How have Gabriel and Jack been doing?" Gerard asked.
"How do you think? On edge as always" She replied. "I'm afraid one of these days, they'll start taking shots at each other"
"They've been through too much together, I doubt it'll ever come to that" He said optimistically.
But being optimistic wasn't Ana's strong suit...if she didn't worry, who would? Someone had to be cautious. Meanwhile, Gerard was happy to boast about his wife's butt. But...he was very successful in shutting down terrorist operations, such as Talon...so Ana was always willing to put up with his...objectification of Amélie. He deserved a real smack on the back of the head, though.
He was just horsing around, though. He was a loving husband, and his only problem was that he couldn't see Amélie more often. His duty calls often saw him away from her. She understood how important his work was, though...and how dangerous it was. The best she could do for him, was ensure he had a loving wife to go back to.
"I think Talon are getting mad at me" Gerard said with a smirk as Amélie walked over to pour tea for them. "They've been increasing their efforts to kill me, but I've kept thwarting them every time"
Now if any other wife heard of chatter about their husbands having attempts made on their life, they'd freak out. Amélie, though? She was used to this sort of discussion. Gerard talked of it like a game, or a minor obstacle.
It didn't mean Amélie didn't worry for him, though.
"Gerard, not in front of your wife" Ana lectured him.
"I'm used to it" Amélie muttered with a tiny smile. "It's essentially our pillow talk, at this point"
That got a little chuckle out of Ana.