He decided to do a free fall from the top of the skyscraper he was on. He closed his eyes, feeling how the weightlessness made the adrenaline course through his veins, using this one single moment to let himself forget, even if it were just for a mere few seconds. He landed on an apartment building way down below, the artificial muscles of his legs absorbing the shock before he picked up into a sprint. “Assessment of the environment,” he inquired. He couldn’t see her and his infrared wasn’t able to trace her either. “She appears to be unmoving. She was heading South. I can’t read her anymore.” Hiding, she was going to ambush him. One hand on his wakizashi, he took the risk to run in plain sight, trying to bait her to take a shot. She didn’t. Of course she knew better. “Shimada I got a reading from behind you. She is moving at 4 o’clock. Moving away from you.” That was in the direction of the base of operation. He swore in Japanese under his breath. She had understood where the signals were coming from. Now he was certain, she definitively circling them. “Get out, Striker, she is going to try and come for you.” He spun on his axis and grabbed onto the wall of a taller building to climb. “What? What do you mean?” The confused questions made Genji cringe in frustration. “I said get out, agent. She has picked up on our readings. She is coming for you.” There were scrambling noises. He heard a litany of swears until the connection with his commlink pinged again. “I’m packing, good luck. Ah fuck.” Yeah, good luck to him. He activated his infrared again. He wasn’t seeing traces of her yet. He jumped from one building to another, dashing out of plain sight when needed. His best chances were to go to the outlook post that had been established. He increased his movement speed to 20%. He would make it on site in less than 6.37 minutes. It made him more vulnerable but she was probably out to chase the other agent. He moved. He didn’t feel the cold air on his body, nor the burn in what was still part of his organic muscles. His focus was set upon getting to his destination. At the foot of the skyscraper, he took a leap. His body slammed against the concrete to crawl upwards. He managed to jump the last few meters to the top of the building.

A shot was fired. He took cover to understand that the shot hadn’t been fired in his immediate environment. Static crossed over his commlink. The hairs of his body rose as he heard her sulfuric voice echoing. “Well, well, what a pity. But I had to give it to him. He tried to run fast.” Genji stopped moving, reverting the signal as fast as possible. “I can see you,” she sang in the commlink. He threw away a decoy beacon on the floor. “There is no escaping me, Sparrow.” He almost halted at the nickname. Few knew about that one. Somebody had sold Talon information about him. He would find and kill them. He moved to the side of the building. She couldn’t get a lock on him unless she had to move in plain sight as well. It was the safest spot. He scanned the buildings around him as he crouched. “There is really no reason to hide anymore, come out Sparrow.” Not a chance; he moved and reactivated his infrared. There she was. On top. At 8 o’clock from him. He was going to sneak up to her. She visibly had her rifle trace the place where he had left the decoy beacon. One swift strike was all he needed. He hadn’t noticed her venom mine. She tumbled to the side, out of his reach. She tried to keep her balance to shoot but he was too close. He jumped on her. She cursed in French and took out a combat knife. He avoided her stab. They rolled further. His concentration was gone. He was coughing hard. He was able to overpower her by straddling her and having her head in an arm lock. He was coughing hard inside of his helmet. “Don’t die on me, s’il te plait.” She gritted as he reinforced his grip on her. He couldn’t breathe so he ditched the helmet. He spit out a clot of blood, his lungs finally able to breathe non filtered-air.

She took advantage of that and threw him off her. He unsheathed his wakizashi when she took hold of her rifle. “Try me.” She had a lock on him. She groaned, visibly annoyed. They stood up together. He kept his coughs at bay. He spit out another clot of blood. “You’re hard to track, Widowmaker.” Maybe if he stalled her he could call for back up later. But then again. It was probably better he killed her. She was too much of a threat to Blackwatch and Overwatch overall. “And you’re hard to kill,” She replied. They were circling each other, waiting for the other one to make a mistake. “Two assassins unable to execute their jobs, a bit pathétique don’t you think?” He scoffed. His eyes were locked on her red visor. “Two weapons failing at their most intended purpose. What do they put you in? A water tank?” He raised his chin, gesturing the cables coming out of her head. “Chemicals mostly, makes my complexion stand out, don’t you think?” A blue monstrosity. “What do they do to you? Plug you into the wall to charge up?” He chuckled, there wasn’t really a lie there. He adjusted his stance. They stood still. She then did something he didn’t anticipate. She retracted her visor and lowered her sniper rifle. It threw him off. She launched herself at him, another combat knife in her hand. He discarded his wakizashi to grab her wrist. She tried to hit him in the groin. She wasn’t as good as him in close combat. He blocked her leg and tackled her to the floor. The impact knocked the air out of her lungs. A groan crossed her lips. She tried to lift him off of her. But this time he increased his muscle mass around his legs to stabilise himself on top of her. She tried to lock her legs around his middle, scratching with her heels on his artificial skin. It also made him laugh. He held her arms next to her body. “Give up any time you want.” he knew he was playing around. He should probably kill her. She spit in his face. He didn’t budge. He should probably slit her throat and be on his merry way. He felt her tire out. His weight on top of her was probably making her exhaust herself. “Kill me, if that’s what you want.” It was what he should be doing. He smiled down at her, holding her in place. “Wanting it to be over so quickly? Are you not fearing for your life?” Her face contorted into a scowl. It seemed like he had personally offended her. “I don’t feel anything.” He kept in a snort. She was feeling pride, that was certain. She bulged her muscles trying to resist his grasp in a last effort. “Not anything at all?” She gave him a glare, not wanting to even reply to that last question. “I think you’re fooling yourself,” he said, “we all feel something.” She laughed him right in the face. Venom coated her tongue and tone: “Are you going to tell me about your sad life? How terrible your body makes you feel? On how Blackwatch has given you hope from the meaninglessness of your existence?” It frayed his nerves. His grip on her arms tightened. “Genji Shimada, the sparrow boy, his sad life stopped right when he exited his mother’s womb.” He grabbed her chin, his nails digging in her cheek - she was still laughing - It pissed him off to no end. “Revenge,” he hissed, “They both made of us weapons. Both of our ‘havens’ transformed us into monsters.” She stopped laughing, looking him in the eyes. “Don’t you want to break free? Or are you just brainless and devoid of free will?” He seemed to have grabbed her attention. “Once the job done, wouldn’t you want to burn it all to the ground? Take revenge on what they have done to you? Or are you just a mindless puppet, Widowmaker?” She stared at him. Even the clench of her jaw loosened a little. The gears in her head were working, turning in motions to reach a conclusion. “You claim not to feel anything, Widowmaker.” He mocked her, “Yet I see you feel anger, pride, disgust… You’re not barren of emotions. Even though you would wish otherwise. They fucked up, they experimented on you, conditioned you, transformed you. And yet… They failed. You’re not Amélie Lacroix, but you are not Widowmaker either. Once your purpose was fulfilled, they should have killed you or you should have killed yourself. But you didn’t. Your primary coding was to kill Amélie Lacroix’s husband, the leader of Blackwatch. Once that program was executed only the shell remained. You are nothing, not even the ghost of the assassin you were supposed to be.” There it was again, anger, and it wasn’t directed at him. He was just putting the truth out there, in words for her to listen to. Her yellow eyes were cold and her lips pursed. He let go of her face. “Revenge,” he continued, “Why not kill them all? Every last one of them, the soldiers, the scientists… the families, the leaders. Everyone who ever participated, everybody who ever got a glimpse of the failed pet project you were.” He released her arms. He didn’t know why he was doing it. But she inspired him pity. They were both the broken designs destined to be discarded once the usefulness wore out. “It’s what I would do,” he smirked, “what I will do.” The communications were off, nobody would ever hear what he was about to say. His words were for her ears only. “Once I kill my brother, they all go down.” He would kill them all. They made him a monster and both Overwatch and Blackwatch would pay for it. The golden soldier boy would be first. “A purpose is what you seek, Widowmaker. Why not take the one of revenge? You’d be good at it. And in time you’ll be able to live as the ethereal deadly beauty you try not to be. Because whether you want it or not, you are beautiful… even for a monster.” He didn’t expect the punch. His teeth scraped the inside of his lip. His jaw hurt. His body hit the floor. She straddled him. Another punch then another. There was no heart behind the blow. He held her wrist and her other fist pounded in his face. He heard her growl. He kept himself from laughing cruelly. He even heightened the pain receptors in his face. Just so he could feel more. More of the blows. She hit his nose. The acrid taste of synthetic blood invaded his mouth. She hit him again and again. She was a mad dog trying to maul him. And yet so desperate. “Je ne suis pas belle, tu mens.” Her hands wrapped themselves around his throat. “Je vais te tuer, et je mutilerai ton cadavre jusqu’à ce qu’il ne reste que des fils.” He felt his brain slipping away. Her hands on his throat tightened the synthetic flesh under it. She didn’t mean it. Her hatred wasn’t directed at him. The oxygen was leaving him. He felt his body tense up. System errors flashed over his eyes. He reached out to her with his hand. She was unfazed. Her mouth was spilling out French words to him in rapid succession. The dialogue she was engaging in was probably only meant for herself. He didn’t understand one word. Her rage poured. Her body was trembling. His fingers touched her face. Her skin was fresh under his organic fingers. It wasn’t unordinary. He let the tip of his fingers trace the nape of her neck. She didn’t seem to care when he did that. There was no resistance when he dragged her down to a kiss either. She was silenced. Her hands released his throat. He felt himself inhale soundly through his blood clogged nose. The air filled his lungs. His body relished in the renewed intake of air. He closed his eyes under her surprised stare. There was nothing surreal to her kiss, nothing special. She was just a woman, like any other human being. And he liked it. There was no myth, no magic. As he moved his lips, she followed. Her whole body seemed to vibrate to a resonance he had yet to discover. They went into a dance. He held the base of her head in his palm, feeling the cables connected to her head brush the back of his hand. He circled her waist. The latex felt cool under his arm. His receptors went back to normal and he registered his body feeling aroused to the taste of her lips and tongue. There was even a low zoom waking up from the liquids pumping in his body. Her hands grabbed a hold of his hair. She broke the contact between their lips. She was evaluating whether to still kill him. But it was futile. He saw her give in. Her muscles relaxed and she let herself loose in his touch. She closed her eyes and let go. He sat up, she met his lips halfway. She was hungrier, more savage in her gesture. She bit his lips in between kisses right before she explored his mouth. He had wondered if he’d ever feel like this again. To feel a desire for a person that would make him lose his mind. To feel as if the murder on Genji Shimada had never happened. As if he wasn’t just an instrument of murder and bloodshed. He thought his carnal needs forever dead when they had given him his cybernetic body. His receptors showed him feedback of his own body temperature rising as her hands found a way to his hair again. She didn’t touch his cables. He didn’t touch hers, knowing that hers were probably hooked into her skull. What they mostly wanted was to touch were the humane parts of each other. She let him sit up so he could press her body against his chest. She felt nice, so very nice against him. He felt himself become a simple man when he was touching her. She let him lie her down on her back. He kissed the inside of her hand. He trailed kisses down her tattoo, kissed her lips again; touched her hips. She lost her hands in his hairs, tugging slightly. He was the first to moan when her nails dug themselves into his scalp and shoulder. His hands roamed over her chest and stomach. She squirmed into his touch. Kissing seemed to be what she loved most, her whole body arched every time he went back to it. It was as if she melted against him and his lips. He caressed her arm, cupped her breast through her latexlike combat armor. She opened her eyes wide as he squeezed. He guessed right where her nipple was when she shivered all over. He teased. She moaned and bit his lips. He hissed in pain but she didn’t let go. She pulled on his hair. He let her nipple go but rubbed his hand over her corset, over her belt. She spread her legs. Of course, she wasn’t wearing any underwear under her combat outfit. Why would she. He chuckled. She let go of his lip between her teeth. She looked in his eyes. Her lips parted and when he caressed her up and down for the first time she gasped. The features in her face darkened under a blush, a flush. Her hips moved against his fingers as he let his thumb graze to where her clit would be. He fondled and massaged with his fingers, applied pressure with the palm of his hand. She writhed and he couldn’t keep his gaze away from her. She moved and thrusted herself up to his touch. He felt himself get lost in body and soul as she moaned and grasped him. She wasn’t very vocal but her body spoke for her. He sped up and she was grinding against him. She brought up her legs up to lock them behind the small of his back. He wondered how wet she was. How much more she would be wanting of him had they been anywhere but here -On top a building in Chicago in the aftermath of an attempted murder- Her breathing hiccupped. He kissed her again. His tongue invaded her mouth. He needed to feel her as she whimpered under his fingers. She shuddered. And clung to him as if the whole world was opening up to her. She exhaled soundly and her limbs trembled. Her orgasm washed over her in an audible gasp. He put his hands around her head to kiss her through it. His head was spiraling down to the madness of her. She grinded herself on his groinless pelvis, finding the last very well needed friction to get herself off. He kissed her. Again and again. Her body movements dragged him further and further away from his thoughts and mind into the moment. There was just the two of them as she circled his shoulders. She grazed over the tubes on his spine and he felt himself shiver. His nerves reacted to every touch tenfold as he let himself lap at her mouth. He was craving her like air. He hadn’t known himself to be sensitive to the ridges of his body or the border where his organic flesh met the cybernetic overall of his body. Until now, until her. Were they somewhere else, he would have let her explore. But the spikes of vulnerability seeped into his mind like stains of red paint on a canvas. He couldn’t let her; not yet; not Now. He took her hands in his. He almost dug himself into some of the spikes on her arms, just so he could ground himself. She looked at him curiously. Her breathing was a bit ragged and her hands were slightly shaking. He probably looked very puzzled to her. His mind played with the idea that at any time she could stab his torso open. He had let his defenses down. But minutes passed and it never came, the stab, the actual assassination of one of the top Blackwatch agents. He kissed her one last time, dragging his teeth over the flesh of her neck. She seemed to tense up at that. He sucked in the flesh, leaving a mark. She seemed bewildered but also made an annoyed groan at him. He smirked and whispered: ‘So long. May we meet again, Spider.’ He disappeared, jumping over the roof. He let his communicators flare up again. A single message from Commander Reyes was waiting for him.

͢ ̥ ͇͈͎ᵺᶉᶒᶏᵼ ᶇeütŗăĺīźed ?͢ ̥ ͇͈͎ ̮̝͕

Ha if only.