She woke up with a strange feeling in her chest. It was a good, blissful feeling. A feeling of finally being free and no longer having to fight her inner demons.

She had felt this feeling quite a lot ever since Overwatch rescued her from Talon's grasp and control and brought her back to their headquarters at Gibraltar. Through Mercy's neural reconditioning therapies and medicines and reconnecting with her old team, she had managed to overthrow the cold, merciless, and unloving personality that had been forced upon her by Talon.

Now, she was feeling emotion again, and her years as an unfeeling assassin felt like they occurred in a distant, foggy past. She could not recall much from them, just a whole lot of shooting, grappling, and laying down venom mines.

Amélie still had quite a few of those mines lying around the watchpoint (much to the displeasure of her new teammates' lungs when one accidentally went off somewhere and Mercy had to swoop in with some medical aid), and her grappling hook lay curled neatly on the metal floor of her room.

Even though the metal claw symbolized a past of indifferent killing and working to undermine peace, she could not bear to part with such an invaluable tool. After all, it had saved her life many times from the time-traveling Brit.

Tracer. The name that once brought tears of hatred to her eyes now evoked a fondness in her heart. It had been Tracer who had led the strike team that broke into one of Talon's main headquarters and abducted her. It had been Tracer who, despite the dislike she herself had for the purple-skinned murderer, had protected the Widowmaker from the angry arrows of Hanzo and the brute strength of Zarya, both of whom had every wish to kill her after her capture. Tracer had convinced even the most stubborn members of Overwatch that Amélie was still somewhere in there, and had begged a reluctant Mercy to do all she could to bring her back.

Needless to say, Angela had been successful, and here she was, back to her old self. But she had Tracer to thank for everything; if not for her, she would be a puddle of purple goo outside the Talon base courtesy of Zarya's particle cannon. Now, she was Amélie again, and her purple skin was even starting to recede back to a light tan, thanks to Mercy's periodic treatments that counteracted Talon's chemicals and formulas. Now, she stood with the ones she had once hated, and Lena was now one of her closest companions.

She sat up on the bed in her chamber, blinking the sleep from her amber eyes. She dragged her sweat-soaked body off of her mattress, thinking that she really needed to bug Winston about the air conditioning again.

Here at Gibraltar, sometimes it failed so badly that in the mornings, Reinhardt and Junkrat (who shared a room, much to the displeasure of both) were sometimes seen using pails to bail the ankle-deep pool of sweat out of their room. Even Genji, with his cybernetic sensory receptors turned to the minimum, still complained about the heat.

Symmetra and Torbjörn had tried without success to engineer a new and improved system of cooling in the base, as this existing system had been established when the watchpoint was built during the First Omnic Crisis and was severely outdated. Symmetra had once managed to make the base even hotter that it was, though, when she accidentally got a hard light field stuck in the main intake valve when trying to fix the air conditioning. This field basically cooked the air traveling into the watchpoint and for three days the team was researching, training, and sitting in Sahara-level temperatures. You couldn't go outside either, as for some reason the sun had decided to be just as scorching during this time.

Roadhog had even taken off his mask for the first time to alleviate the heat on his face during this time, and Amélie was still trying to get the image of Junkrat wearing only underwear as an attempt to cool off out of her mind.

Although the hard light field had eventually been removed by a cranky Lúcio, Amélie felt as if she still had not recovered from the heatstroke the ordeal had given her.

Today, the air conditioning was looking bad again. It probably had shut off sometime in the night, as Amélie's sweat-streaked bedsheets suggested.

She staggered to her bathroom to freshen up, and walked out into the hallway. Immediately she was tackled by two blurs of orange and blue.

Her assassin drive automatically kicked in, and she found her fingers closed around the neck of the first person on top of her before realizing that she was not under attack. Her brain might have forgotten the memories of her time as Widowmaker, but it would never forget the well-practiced skills and battle instincts honed during her time as an assassin for Talon.

Heart pounding as she lay on the floor of the hallway, she surveyed the cheery face of her two assailants.

"HAPPY BIRTHDAY, LOVE!" Squealed a peppy cockney voice.

A calmer but just as cheerful Asian tone also called out,

"We have come to wish you the best on your special day, Amélie."

Amélie managed to get back onto her feet. She had not thought that being tackled was a way to wish someone a happy birthday, but the excitement of her friends brought a smile to her face.

"Thank you, Lena, Mei. Is today really my birthday? During my years under Talon, I never had the luxury of blowing out candles. I even have forgotten what day my birthday was. Thank you for reminding me. You remembered, even through all those years of me trying to-"

"Kill us, love? Well, we forgive ya. And I'll never forget what your birthday is. 6/6/2066; it's impossible to forget!"

"Oh, well, that's easy enough for me to remember." Widowmaker said. Lena grabbed her arm, dragging her down to the cafeteria. Mei followed, spraying a thin mist of ice crystals in the air with her Endothermic Blaster to mitigate the heat building in the absence of the air conditioning.

"Come on, we've prepared a surprise for you, wait 'till you see it!"

The energetic woman was nearly bursting with excitement as she pulled a staggering Amélie down the hall. Along the way, they sped past a cranky-looking McCree shaving in his bathroom and a yawning Soldier: 76 as he put on his visor.

Arriving at the cafeteria, Amélie was greeted by a huge chorus of "Happy Birthday" from D. Va, Reinhardt, Torbjörn, Mercy, Lúcio, Genji, Zenyatta, Winston, Pharah, and Hanzo. They were all standing in front of a colossal cake decorated with frosting venom mines and a perfectly-frosted and exquisitely detailed portrait of herself in the center, completely free of purple skin, with all the other Overwatch heroes bordering her, each also having been designed with meticulous skill and detail. She noticed with a smirk that McCree's nose and ears had been (probably purposely) elongated so that he looked like an elf from a Western Christmas show, and that Winston's eyes were slightly crossed.

"Not our best work" Torbjörn apologized as he gestured towards himself, D. Va, Mercy, and Zenyatta.

"Though Zenyatta had the most careful hands of us all." He added.

"Don't forget me! I did the McCree one!" Piped Tracer.

"I'm sure he will enjoy the fact that his features were stretched farther than his ego is large." Genji quipped. "Make sure we give him the piece of cake with his face on it."

They roared with laughter as Tracer retorted,

"Hey, it was my best! And he's not exactly the most handsome guy to work with in the first place, you know! I wanted to do Hanzo; his astronomical beauty outshines even the stars on the clearest night, and his majestic appearance makes even the pickiest of lady dragons go barmy over him, and his clean shaven chin and dreamy eyes soften the hearts of even the coldest of murderers, and-"

"That is enough, dear Lena. I am honored that you think so highly of me, but you border on mockery." Hanzo said with a scowl.

"What's to mock about you?" Inquired a drowsy Junkrat as he limped into the cafeteria to join them. Roadhog followed, a huge mug of coffee cradled in his hook.

"Other than the fact that although the dragons you launch into battle are huge, your own, erm, dragon is probably as short as Roadhog's fuse on a bad day-"

The explosives fanatic had to dodge as Hanzo's bow sailed over his head and bounced clean off Roadhog's large belly, smacking D. Va in the back.

"You speak dishonorably and without truth. My, erm...dragon was once the envy of an entire clan. Only Genji's surpassed it, hence why he was the playboy who got all the females in the town." Hanzo seethed, his face red with anger and embarrassment.

"The envy of an entire clan?" D. Va shouted as she walked over, hobbling slightly due to the weapon that had just collided with her back,

"The only thing your old clan envied about you was your ability to win fights. All you had to do was look your enemies in the eye and they would either turn into ashes or explode with agony. Wasn't it said, in Hanamura, that Hanzo Shimada had the ability to slay even a deity with his repulsive looks? I swear that was printed on a Japanese scroll somewhere...And that dragon of yours? Not even as large as Torbjörn is tall. And what did you say to all those women when you were the so-called envy of the clan? "My dragon awakens for you?" "Don't believe in love at first sight? Well, let me shoot you in the face again-with more than ONE type of dragon!" "Roses are red, Violets are blue, RYUUGAWA GA TEKI WO KURAU!"

At this point Hanzo had gone as red as McCree's cloak, Roadhog was guffawing so loudly he nearly toppled over, Lúcio, Tracer, and Junkrat were rolling over laughing, Genji had probably sprained a few cyborg muscles as he doubled over in mirth, and Winston, Symmetra, and Mercy were standing off to a side, uncomfortably glaring at D. Va.

"There will be no more of this!" Roared Hanzo, slamming his fist down onto the table, making a chuckling Reinhardt give him a wide berth.

D. Va opened her mouth to say more, but a look from Winston that said "enough is enough, or I'll go all primal rage on your Playstation 8", and she maintained her silence.

"This day is about Amélie, not insulting Hanzo's dragon." Mercy said with utter finality and sternness. "You children need to rise above this profane and immature so-called humor."

"Well, Hanzo needs to rise above his dra-"

"ENOUGH" Roared Symmetra, eyes glaring daggers at the laughing occupants in the room. "If you are going to say anything more about Hanzo that is cruel, unwelcome, and immoral, you may do so with a sentry turret melting your tongue." Hanzo gave a brief nod of thanks to Symmetra and Mercy.

This settled matters, and by this time everyone in the base had meandered to the cafeteria, drawn by the noise.

"Now then," Winston announced, looking flustered but immensely relieved that the tirades and roasts were over, "It is time for Amélie to make a wish. Personally, if I am to make a suggestion, you should wish for a better job on my frosting portrait on the cake for the next person's birthday. I look so cross-eyed, it's as if I'm almost as wasted as Reinhardt and Soldier every Friday night!"

"This is a target-rich environment, so I'd watch my tongue if I were you, Winston." A gruff voice rang out from the back of the room. Soldier: 76 hefted his rifle, hoping to intimidate Winston.

"Right, Amélie, time to make a wish. Oh wait! The candles!"

On each frosting portrait's head was a small candle. In all the turmoil, nobody had lit them. Mercy went into the kitchen to grab a lighter, but Lúcio called out,

"Wait! My latest mixtape should do the trick."

Pharah snorted in derision.

"Your mixtape? If anyone wants to have solid garbage spewed all over their cake, then yeah."

"Alright, Ms. Justice, next mission, you're last priority for my HEALING AND SPEED MIXTAPE TO AID YOU AND MAYBE SAVE YOUR LIFE! THAT STUFF WASN'T GARBAGE TO YOU WHEN I SAVED YOU FROM THAT MERCENARY GROUP WITH IT!" And Angela, Zenyatta, Satya, you guys are not allowed to help her either! We'll see just how far justice rains next mission without support, huh! I feel like it will go something like: "JUSTICE RAINS FROM-AHHHHHH!"

"Team, remember that we are a cooperative, cohesive unit. Minimal bickering and all that jazz." McCree spoke up. This was so unlike him that many turned to look at him, to see a drawl dripping with playful sarcasm. "But seriously, though, somebody better stop or somebody else is gonna end up with a bullet in their dragon."

Roars of laughter echoed through the halls and Pharah and Hanzo looked as if they were ready to go on rampages and unleash barrages of rockets, concussive blasts, and scatter arrows everywhere, so Winston had to intervene before he had to repair the entire watchpoint.

"Good lord, fellows, if you have this much beef with each other we should have done a birthday steak dinner."

"Good one!" Intoned Zenyatta, always one for puns.

"Not really." Scoffed an unimpressed Zarya. "The dragon jokes contained much more humor."

"I agree." Roadhog growled, earning a glare from Symmetra.

Reinhardt was still trying to pick his elderly frame off the floor after his laughter had crippled him.

Mercy re-emerged from the kitchen with a lighter, and proceeded to light the entire cake undisturbed by any more jibes. The silence was probably due to the fact that she had disapproved from the very beginning and currently held a large knife with which to cut the cake, and possibly the fingers of anybody daring to make another joke.

"There. All done." She said as she finished the last candle.

Amélie walked over and blew all the tiny flames out, the wisps of smoke drifting up from the cake like tiny serpents.

Mei and Torbjörn went to stand by her side, Mei to share the great moment with her, her first birthday since her capture by Talon, and Torbjörn to get the largest and first piece of cake.

"Cheers, love." Amélie looked up to see Tracer holding a glass of punch in her hand. Smiling, Amélie poured herself a drink as well and toasted with her friend.

"The one time that phrase actually makes sense."

"Happy birthday, love."