Blue Moon (End)

"Why did you come?"

Hana took another step closer. "To deal with you."

Widowmaker laughed, it was a soft, subtle sound. "What makes you think I can be 'dealt with' by the likes of you?"

"You're overconfident, to start with. You knew I was coming, but you're still here. You probably even saw me approaching, but you never shot me, why?"

"I wanted to see you, talk to you face-to-face. You've had such a trying time recently, non? That business with Roadhog, the Park Brothers, your..." her eyes flashed deviously. "'Boobies' I believe was the term you used, on all those big, big screens?"

Hana reddened, just a shade. "You humiliated me!"

"Oui, and I'd do it all over again, even if it wasn't part of the job."

"Is that what you plan to do to all of us? Strip us naked and livestream it to the world?!"

Widowmaker shook her head. "Non, non. That was specially formulated just for you. Among Overwatch's youngest, a pretty young thing...and always hidden away in that big bulky machine. The world longed to see what you had to offer, and now they have."

"If I had my MEKA—"

"But you don't, do you? It exploded, along with all your clothes!" Widowmaker laughed. "Such a source of amusement, you are!"

Hana pouted, stalking forward to within a few steps of where Widowmaker was standing. "What? What will you do, Hana Song?" She taunted. "Will you fight me? Will you kill me?"

"No..." Hana breathed. "I'll beat you, then I'll bring you in."

"What makes you think you'll beat me at all?"

Hana didn't answer, instead allowing the sounds of the city below to take over; it ended all too soon, though, for in the distance shapes appeared, rising up from below in a roar of sound and wind. Widowmaker's braid whipped around in the sudden gust, and she quickly brushed it away from her face as she started looking around. "What? What is this?"

"I'll beat you because I've got no other choice!" Hana yelled over the din from the posse of helicopters that now hovered all around them. "We have an audience now!" From the sides of each of the choppers, people with large cameras peered out, and large logos printed on their sides identified them as news crews.

"You wish to die on live television?"
Widowmaker hesitated, before giving a nonchalant shrug. "If you insist!" Quick as a flash, she sprang into action, rushing toward Hana in a flurry of movement. Hana let her come, bracing to defend against her attacks. The choppers with their news crews watched, spotlights roving up and down the rooftop as the two women fought hand-to-hand; distant shouts going up as they called out to one another or the two combatants. At first, given how close-quarters they were, Hana had the upper hand, Widowmaker clearly being unused to being withing striking distance of an opponent, but that soon changed, and she could feel herself losing ground.

In desperation, she glanced down at Widowmaker's suit, artfully unzipped down to her midriff, the blue skin underneath inevitably drawing the eye, the smallest hint of the breasts hidden under the suit keeping it there. Hana let Widowmaker come in close, dodged to the side, then instead of striking back, reached up, gripped onto each side of the suit's zipper track and yanked it further open. Widowmaker gasped as her big blue breasts came bouncing free, Hana pulling the suit down off her shoulders and trapping her arms in the process. "Sacrè bleu!" She wriggled in place, making them jiggle lewdly. Hana didn't stop there; with thumbs and forefingers she latched onto Widowmaker's nipples—dark, the colour of blueberries, and likely to be just as juicy—and twisted. They were short and stubby, mostly smooth skin, but with the barest hint of texture to them that rubbed against the grooves of the fingers. "OWWW!" She shrieked. "You cannot do this! You are Overwatch!"

Hana leaned in and whispered, "You did it to me!" Then twisted them a second time.

"NON!" Widowmaker was panicking, breathing harsh and shallow, the pallour of her cheeks deepening as she started to blush. In a blind fury she leaned forward and headbutted Hana, sending her sprawling to the ground. While Hana was clutching her forehead and sucking in air through her teeth, Widowmaker slipped her arms out of the suit, letting the entire top portion of it dangle uselessly from her hips. Next, she began to massage her tortured nipples, shooting daggers at Hana. "You little bitch! You think what you've experienced is the worst humiliation I have to offer? When I'm done with you, you will wish you had never even heard of Overwatch! Non...you will wish you had never been born!"

Hana looked her up and down, focusing on the bit of the purple-and-black tactical suit she'd managed to get off of her, still trailing down to the floor, her eyes then drifted back up to the helicopters, still hovering in a holding pattern all around them.

Widowmaker spat onto the floor, hands splayed defensively over her tits, coming in closer and leaning down. "Any last words?" She sneered.

Hana's eyes darted up and down several times in quick succession. That suit, it looked as if it were barely hanging on; if she could just give it an extra tug...

Hana took a deep breath, closed her eyes...and smiled. "Yeah, actually." She opened them again. The constant buzz of the choppers behind them filling the brief silence. "Smile for the cameras!"

Widowmaker frowned. "Quoi?" She said, right before Hana slipped her legs through the gap between Widowmaker's, gripped the trailing bit of suit with her feet, and pulled. The reflective, shimmering material was instantly yanked off of the frenchwoman's hips, gliding down to reveal a large, heart-shaped pair of blue buttocks. The chopper's spotlights immediately took notice, converging on the same spot and moving up along Widowmaker's legs to settle on her arse. "It...is that Widowmaker...?" One of the choppers' crewmen cried out over a megaphone. "My god, she's naked! Are you getting this? She's fucking naked!" Widowmaker's eyes went wide as saucers. "MERDE!" She yelled, pushing her legs together to trap the suit around her knees. Hana saw her window and pushed herself up into a sitting position, reached around the vast expanse of Widowmaker's arse and planted a hand on each of the cheeks. There was a split second where she looked down and locked eyes with Hana, a terrible recognition dawning on her features. Hana shot her a wicked grin, gripped onto those buns nice and firmly and pulled them apart, spreading them as wide as she could. Widowmaker squealed, her face a mask of mingling shock and embarrassment, great patches of indigo appearing on it where she was flushing deeper than she ever had before; funnily enough, although she was facing away from the cameras, and wouldn't have smiled even if she wasn't, there was a certain other part of her body that did wink at them right then...

                                      *
                    Thirty Minutes Later

Hana walked out through the front doors, news vans assembled in an orderless pile-up out front. Some of their side doors were open, banks of monitors visible within, with news crew members rewinding and playing back a specific segment of footage. The screens showed Widowmaker with her back to the camera, her suit's top-half dangling from her hips. Her abdomen was clearly bare, though only her back could be seen. Then came Hana's final gambit, and the suit's dangling fabric was pulled downward, the whole thing sliding down off of those hips to reveal that magnificent derrierè—full, round cheeks and skin the hue of the night sky. That was good on its own, but then a pair of pale hands that could only be Hana's entered the frame from the sides, clamping down on Widowmaker's arse cheeks and as if in slow-motion—or so it appeared to Hana—pulling them apart to expose the sniper's tight, round icy blue arsehole.

The leading lady herself was being escorted out behind Hana, completely nude, save for the bit of her suit still trapped around her knees, which was forcing her to take ridiculously short, tottering steps as the police led her over to the nearest squad car by her cuffs—positioned demurely in front of her cobalt-coloured pussy of course, they weren't animals after all. She was swearing at Hana in elaborate strings of French the whole way, breasts wobbling with each step she took. Hana watched as the gathering crowd of press started snapping photos, subjecting Widowmaker to a fresh round of blushing as she fought to conceal her bared breasts from the legion of cameras; in the end, all she managed was an awkward twisting of her upper body in an attempt to angle the goods away from the paps, which succeeded only in making them sway from side to side and clap loudly together. Eventually, the stress apparently proving too much, her nipples receded back from whence they'd come, making her areolas look puffy and bashful—only heightening the resemblance to a pair of ripe, succulent blueberries. The picture-taking continued until she was finally bundled into the back of the car—the escorting officers exchanging looks of admiration, those of men who couldn't quite believe their good luck—and flashing everyone present with one last view of her arse before the door slammed shut behind her. Hana watched them drive off, only looking away when her phone started to ring, she picked it up immediately once she saw the number. "Hey, big guy!"

"So...how did it go?" Winston's voice came rich and strong down the line, dripping with concern.

"Great! Widowmaker's in custody and, uh...the media got some great footage! You should see it on tonight's news."

"Well that's...that's great!" He sounded taken aback and relieved in equal measure. "Good job, Hana!"

"Couldn't have done it without you, big guy! Those news cameras were a lifesaver. Really reminded me of what was important, what the people needed to see, you know?"

"Always glad to be of service, Hana. Erm...speaking of the media..." His tone turned delicate. "That other matter, the one that concerns yourself and the...media?"

Hana tried to play it cool, but a tiny twinge of pinkness on her cheeks betrayed her. "Mhm...what of it?"

"Well, I have some ideas about dealing with it. You see, there's this project I've been working on, the 'Forget-Me-Not-Not' it's a program, a kind of benign virus which, in theory, could erase all evidence of certain sensitive media on the internet."

Hana brightened up slightly, a note of hops creeping into her voice. "Wait...really? You're...you're serious?"

"I'm serious! Deadly serious!" He began to chuckle, then stopped himself. "We can discuss details when you're back at HQ, but I really think we can get you through this and out the other side. Not just me, but all of us. We are a team after all."

"Wow. That—that means a lot, Winston." Hana smiled. "I'll...I'll get back as soon as I can, alright? Oh, and don't forget to record the news for me! I want to see how they report on this one myself!"

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(All credit for the image goes to ForceBallFX)