Chapter Text
Just keep running.
It doesn’t matter if your feet hurt.
It doesn’t matter if your body grows too heavy to carry.
It doesn’t matter if a part of you wants to stay, to give up and admit that you need them.
It doesn’t matter that you could die out here. Death personified is already following you.
It doesn’t matter that maybe you’re only alive because you, too, are death.
Just keep running.
The environment that surrounded Amélie was completely new to her. It was a desert, decorated by cacti and dust. However, the more she runs, the more a small building comes into sight. It’s far away, barely visible, but the further she can get from them the better.
The reality of the situation is that Amélie is on the run. Finally, after so many years of torture, the sniper had escaped Talon’s grasp (with the help of a friend, which might bite her in the ass later but whatever. It didn’t matter, she wouldn’t see them again anyways). It was a long, exhausting escape, and she’s been running aimlessly through the desert for hours, but she’s free. The thought of freedom almost brings a tear to her eye. Almost.
Covered in dust, the sniper approaches the building. She confirms that it’s a restaurant, maybe a bar? Amélie doesn’t have even a penny in her pocket, but, at the very least, she can wash her face (and drink out of the faucet when no one is looking. She’s extremely dehydrated).
Amélie pushes the glass door open, and with the small ring of a bell, she was finally somewhere with air conditioning. To her surprise, the restaurant itself was rather busy. Definitely not packed, but as busy as a place so far out in the desert could be. After she scanned the room, she hastily made her way to the women’s restroom, ignoring the curious stares she got along the way.
She closed and locked the door to the (thankfully) one-person restroom, then stopped in her tracks as she saw herself in the mirror. Before her little desert field trip, Amélie was smart enough to wear some goggle-like eye protectors and a handkerchief that went other her mouth and nose. Everything was covered in dust, and when the sniper removed her face protection, it looked as if she had a dust tan line.
Sloppily, she rinsed her face over the sink, followed by her goggles. She then wiped off whatever dirt she could, put her goggles back on (this time resting them near her hairline), and tied her handkerchief around her neck, but letting it sag so to let her breath freely while she still could.
Shortly after Amélie left the restroom and was about to leave the restaurant, an old but loud voice came from the other side of the ordering counter, “Don’t you wanna get something to eat, honey?”
Amélie was straight to the point, “I have no money.”
The waiter clicked her tongue, “That’s no reason to let a woman starve. Come, sit down, I’ll get ya a nice lunch.”
Feeling a little out of place, Amélie sat down on the barstool with her eyes focused on only what presented itself in front of her.
After a couple of minutes, the waiter came bursting out the kitchen door and set a plate in front of the sniper: A cheeseburger with fries. The older woman set down a bottle of ketchup as she spoke, “Here’s some ketchup, just in case. If you need anything else, just yell for me.”
Amélie was previously observing the food like it was alien, but looked up to say, “Merci.” Her tone was flat, like it always was, but the waiter smiled at the simple thanks, then waddled over to the other customers to take their orders.
Amélie was hesitant to try such foreign food, but this was a whole lot better than starvation. Besides, she’ll have to get used to this kind of food. Living in America was part of her life now. It was the most secure and unpredictable place she could’ve fled to, after all. Talon would probably check France first, then the rest of Europe. It would be months maybe years until they even started searching this side of the world, let alone America. Of course, Talon’s strong suit is their wits, and paired with their influence, they could be anywhere. That idea alone is enough for Amélie to keep her guard up.
The sniper was quickly pulled out of her thoughts by an unfamiliar touch and a voice that followed, “Excuse my manners, but you don’t seem the type to end up here… So, I have to ask, what’s your business in my land?”
Amélie politely wiped her face with a napkin before responding, “I mean no harm, I’m just traveling.”
The stranger’s smile became slightly more hostile, “‘Just traveling’ my ass!” She leaned forward and whispered into the sniper’s ear, her authority radiating, “I’m no idiot. I can see that gun on your back, and hell knows what else you got in that bag. I really don’t want things to get messy here, so just tell me, why are you here?”
Amélie became frustrated, “I told you. I’m just traveling.”
The stranger tipped her hat upwards slightly, her blood-red eyes staring right into the sniper’s soul, “I’ll give ya one last chance.”
Amélie let out a defeated sigh, “Fine. I’m… running. From someone.”
The stranger’s expression seemed to soften, just a bit, “I’m guessin’ it’s a pretty big deal if you came all the way out here.”
Amélie nodded, “Yes. They’re not too happy I left. I’m sure they want me dead.”
The stranger nodded, her hostility fading but her caution still rightfully placed, “Did ya do something to provoke ‘em?”
The sniper looked off to the side, “Other way around, American.”
The stranger took a moment to think, then chuckled, “Call me Ashe. You are…?”
“Amélie.”
Ashe tipped her hat, “Well, Miss Amélie, I’d be more than happy to offer you a place to stay, as long as you promise not to cause any trouble.”
The sniper got up from her seat, “You seem like you cause enough yourself.”
The American smiled, “You ain’t wrong about that! Me and my gang, the Deadlock gang, do get in our fair share of mischief. But we look out for each other, and for the lovely people in our area. We’re all kinda like a family, made up of misfits and delinquents. So what do ya say, Miss Amélie… would you like to join me? Would you like to become part of the gang?”
The sniper thought for a moment. Yes, she’s following a stranger for housing, but it’s better than following the wind in hopes of a nearby town. Besides, the idea of a family, even if it is artificial, sounds kind of nice. Maybe that kind of secure role will not only keep Talon away from her tracks, but also welcome her into her new home: this dry, unfamiliar land.
She spoke, “Tout le plaisir est pour moi.”
Amélie couldn’t say she was surprised when Ashe proudly presented her gang’s mean of transportation: Motorcycles.
The outlaw spoke, “You ever rode a bike before?”
The sniper shook her head, “No.”
Ashe walked over to the vehicle, placing one hand on the seat, “It’s not too bad! You’ll be fine as long as ya hold on tight.”
Amélie cocked up an eyebrow, “Hold on?”
The outlaw looked at her gang, then back at the tall woman in front of her, “Yeah… I’m ‘fraid you’ll have to ride with me. We didn’t exactly bring a spare bike.” Ashe put her hands on her hip, “Speaking of ‘we,’ I don’t think you’ve met the gang yet!” She then turned around and pointed to the other members, “The purple haired one is Frankie, the one with the sniper rifle is bars, the tall one there is Benito but we call him Bez, and those three goofy looking boys are Terran, P.T., and Zeke: They’re triplets.”
Amélie nodded, “It’s nice to meet all of you.” She was rewarded with several various responses, some being as simple as a nod, and others being a full blown handshake. It became very clear that everyone here was quite different. That didn’t seem to stop them, however, because it was apparent that they had a lifelong bond already seat in stone. It’s going to be hard to fit in because on that, Amélie hasn’t had anyone, let alone friends in almost ten years. Not since them… or should she say him?
Suddenly, the sniper felt a small tap on her shoulder, and after turning around, a tall omnic with a neat hat presented himself.
Ashe chuckled, “Oh, how could I forget B.O.B.?”
Almost sheepishly, Amélie uttered, “It’s nice to meet you, too.” After getting no response, the sniper looked at Ashe.
The outlaw seemed confused for a moment, but after understanding Amélie’s concern, she stated, “B.O.B. doesn’t talk much. He’s more of the silent type. But don’t be intimidated by him, he’s a sweetheart.”
Mechanical clicks came from the omnic, and this expression changed to what would be a smile, if he had moving lips.
Slightly embarrassed, Ashe scoffed and yelled to the gang, “Alright let’s get movin’! We’ve got a nice day ahead of us!” The outlaw mounted her bike like it was instinct, and the rest of the gang followed. Apart from Amélie, who lingered for a couple of moments, unsure what to do. Ashe noticed this, and patted the back of her bike, “C’mon, sugar. I won’t bite.”
The sniper took a deep breath before mounting the bike, trying her best not to clash into the outlaw in the process. Once she was settled, she inquired, “Am I doing this right?”
Ashe turned her body and grabbed the latter’s hands, “Almost. This is going to sound weird but you gotta put your arms around me for support. If you don’t, you’ll go flying off this bike like a rag doll.” The outlaw then guided the sniper’s hands around her waist, assuring that her grip was secure.
One of the triplets shouted from their bike across the old parking lot, “You okay there, boss?”
Ashe shouted back, “Yeah, I think we’re all good now!” The outlaw turned back, looking at Amélie one last time, “You ready?” The sniper nodded, and Ashe, right before turning the engine on, muttered, “Don’t let go.”
The bikes were loud. Whirring and screeching sounds filled the sniper’s ears, but she couldn’t help but notice how their current speed outweighs everything else. She tightened her grip slightly, now completely understanding its purpose.
It wasn’t a very long ride: maybe ten minutes… but, damn, it was nice. The wind manipulated Amélie’s hair and kept it far behind her, the sun beating down on her felt nice against her cool skin, and the woman in front of her… not only was she blocking all the dirt and dust, but she seemed genuinely nice. Of course, nothing is for certain, so the sniper’s heavily guarded walls will remain up.
Soon, the gang arrived at what appeared to be their headquarters. It was a nice place, surprisingly. What used to be an abandoned motel was now their abode. Everything was fixed and redone in some way, including the garage, which now appeared be a workshop. The doors that lined the building all had some sort of sign, name, or scribble on them to indicate they belong to someone, apart from a couple unused rooms. A big fence with spikes on its top surround the lot, and it was all brought together with a nice little sign that read “Deadlock Gang.”
Ashe caught Amélie eyeing the headquarters and smugly said, “We did a great job, right?”
The sniper nodded, getting off the bike carefully, “Yes. It exceeded my expectation.”
The outlaw carefully parked the bike after getting off, herself, “Why thank you…! Wait, should I take offense to that?”
Amélie shot her a look, “Maybe.”
Ashe chuckled, “Well, anyways, I’ll show you to your room. Follow me.”
The outlaw looked back once to make sure she was being followed, then started making her way to a vacant room on the second floor. The door seemed old, and the room number couldn’t be read anymore, but when Ashe opened the door, it was actually somewhat well maintained. It could definitely use some dusting, and a personal touch, but it certainly wasn’t bad.
The outlaw spoke once more before closing the door and leaving, “I’ll give ya some time to get settled in. I’ll be downstairs in the lobby if you need anything.”
Amélie responded quickly, “Merci.”
And just like that, she was alone. She decided to looked around a bit, partially to make sure there were no bugs, and partially because she wanted to get well aquatinted with the place. There was a small bead in the far corner, a desk sat against the opposing wall, a small TV mounted above the desk, and a door that likely led to a small washroom. The sniper opened the door just to check, and her suspicions were proven correct. She walked inside the small room and turned the sink on. The water was brown for a moment, but after running for a short while, it filtered itself out.
Amélie set Widow’s Kiss on the desk along with her messenger bag, then laid herself on the bed. She took a deep breath, letting her sensations take over. The bed was soft, and she could feel the sun shine on her through the small window. She felt gross. Her body hasn’t been washed in days. Who knew fleeing across the world would take so long?
The sniper took off her goggles, followed by the handkerchief, then started to strip. She let the shower run for a couple moments to ensure all the dirty water circulated. She jumped in when the water was warm. Fortunately, there were abounded soaps, and after making sure nothing seemed off about them, the sniper washed herself properly.
Amélie let out a pleased sigh as the water ran down her curves. Once she was content, she stepped out, not wanting to waste too much water. She dried off, then grabbed her messenger bag from the desk. Inside, she had a spare pair of clothes, a comb, ammunition, an empty water canteen, and what was left of her rations. She slowly took her comb out and tried her best to brush her hair. Doing so was quite tedious with a comb, but that was all she had. After a few minutes of combing, she ran her fingers through her hair without interruption, and decided to move on to getting dressed. The clothes she had brought were nothing much: skin-tight leggings, a white crop top button-up, tall boots with metal plates, and combat gloves, which also had metal plates and a place to store her venom mine. The suit reminded her of long ago: when her skin wasn’t stripped of its normalities and her face wasn’t stuck emotionless. That time in her life seems so distant now… so out of reach. She knows, deep down, that her life will never be like that again… for her husband has already met his grave. On some lonely nights, she wants nothing more than to join him there, but a part of her knows that Amélie lies there with him, holding him tight. The woman she once was died with him that day. Truthfully, she shouldn’t even call herself Amélie. She’s been a different person, nothing more than a machine, for almost ten years now. She is Widowmaker. She’ll never be her… she’ll never be Amélie, not until her physical form joins her husband six feet under. Only then, can she be complete once more, surrounded by what she misses most in life.
The sniper sighed as she opened the door that led outside. Funnily enough, several cans of spray paint were placed neatly on the ground by the door, along with a note:
Decorate the door however you’d like. It’s yours now! But be careful, this stuff doesn’t come off easily.
-The triplets
Amélie set the note down on the floor, and picked up the can of black spray paint. She shook it for a moment, then carefully brought it up to the door, and began to paint. She took a step back to admire her work, then bent down and picked up the red. She painted on the signature hour-glass, and her masterpiece was complete. It was the black widow: a dangerously venomous spider that she admired. She chuckled at what she had just done. It made her think of when she was young: rebelling against her parents. She then made her way down the stairs after setting down the paint cans. Her course was set to the lobby, where Ashe was waiting for her, but peculiar sounds stopped her.
“She could be dangerous! You have no idea who you brought in here!”
“Look, you’ve just gotta trust me with this-“
“No, boss. You didn’t consult any of us about this.”
“Don’t you know that I’m in charge? I’m called ‘boss’ for a reason, don’t make me remind you, Frankie.”
“Shut up. I’ve trusted you for years, and you’ve never lead us down the wrong path, but I have to know why you decided that she was a Deadlock within minutes.”
A sigh was heard from one of the two women, “Look, you know how I hate gettin’ sentimental… but I suppose you deserve an explanation… That woman, she’s lost. She’s running’ from something scary and she needed somebody. I saw myself in her, I really did… So, I wanted to be that somebody: to give her the family she needed.” The woman chuckled, “You know that’s what I do best, Frankie… Well, that and putting people in their place.”
Amélie stopped listening after that. She has already heard too much. It was obvious that those two women were Ashe and Frankie. She knew she should’ve just moved on the second she recognized them.
The sniper continued walking, leaving what she heard behind her. She tried to shake it off, to pretend she was never listening.
But she knows that if she could, she’d be smiling.
༻🕸️༺