"Show me," said the Widowmaker, pulling up video from the Tunisian incident that Lena had discussed.
"There," Lena pointed. "That one, whoever they are. Take that one down, the whole plan collapses."
Widowmaker nodded, pleased. "Yes. I saw it as well. I believe you were correct. How did you know?"
"Tactical training sticks with you. I was always good at it." She bit her lower lip. "But it's more than that... it's hard to describe, but there's a flow. Fuzzy around the edges, right? But... like a river. Or maybe a swarm. Nah - more like a river. Anyway, there's a flow. Whoever that was, they were at the heart."
"That feeling sounds familiar." She can see part of it, Amélie thought. Not the same way I do, and she's untrained, but... it's there. Let's find out how strongly. "I've assembled some other video, from other incidents. Why don't we find out if you can see this 'flow' consistently, yes?"
Lena nodded, enthusiastically. "Let's get this thing moving!"
The next video rolled. Kansas City, 2071. "There," said the younger assassin, almost immediately. "Her." The spider nodded; "Good."
The second - Banjarmasin, 2071. It took only a few more seconds. "Him," she said, coolly confident. "I concur," said Amélie.
Hangzhou, 2072. "This one, the one with the... I don't know what kind of hat that is." The Widowmaker laughed; "I don't either. But correct."
Aukland, 2073. "I... uh." The video kept rolling. Lena followed the action, but saw no flow, no pattern. Lena watched, fascinated by the chaos. "Got me here, love. I don't see it."
"Well done," replied the spider. "Correct. No single target."
Prince Rupert, 2073. Almost immediate. "That one," said the student, "with the sniper rifle. Ha, easy," and the teacher nodded approvingly, saying, "Correct, on both counts."
At thirty examples, Amélie stopped the test. "27 of 30, with no false positives, dramatically higher than would be expected of officers at your former rank. Almost as good as myself. I am impressed."
"Thanks, love." Lena closed her eyes for a moment, consciously releasing the emotional damper of the web. In another week or two, it wouldn't even take active thought. She took a deep breath and beamed, stored up emotions washing over her in a flood, and pressed herself up against her partner, nuzzling under her chin, eyes now open large and wide. "That was fun. Do you have any others?"
Amélie gasped, and bent her head forward to kiss her lover, her arms immediately around the smaller woman's body. "I have a whole training course. You just passed the final, but if this is how you feel afterwards, I will make many more."
"Good." Lena pushed Amélie backwards, slowly, slipping her hands under Amélie's uniform, sliding it off her shoulders, biting gently at her ear, and whispering, "Many more."
"Aaah!" Amélie gasped and hoisted Lena bodily up, carrying her over to the futon folded by the wall, and kicking it back open as Lena pushed her uniform further down. She all but threw Lena down onto it, leaping astride her, as Lena pulled both shoulder sleeves the rest of the way off, and the top half of her uniform fell away.
Lena pulled the spider down atop her, nuzzling at her breasts, teasing their tips with her tongue. Amélie moaned; Lena pulled her lover's long hair, and she shuddered, panting, already climaxing. Lena laughed, delightedly. "I love how easily you get going," bringing her blue-skinned lover closer again.
"I assure you," said the Frenchwoman, growling, pulling open Lena's blouse, "it is only the start."
The two women lay naked and entangled on the futon together, calm and radiant in their own momentarily private world.
"I'm gonna need a new call sign," Lena said, while lazily brushing her fingertips down Amélie's arm.
"Are you sure? You're doing a fine job of tracing right now," said her lover, teasing her partner's hair, the younger woman's head resting on her breast.
Lena pursed her lips and shook her head gently. "No, Tracer's not me anymore. Not after... what happened. I need something new."
"I'm sorry, no, of course not." The spider kissed the top of the pilot's head. This hair of hers really won't do anything else, will it? she thought. How fortunate for me that I adore it so. Running her right hand gently along Lena's back, she said, "We self-name, here. Do you have any ideas?"
"I want to throw something back in their face."
"Something other than a bomb, you mean?"
Lena chucked. "Yeh. Something other than that, I mean."
"Mmm," answered the spider, and kissed that wonderful head again.
"Imogen called me a 'poison,'" said the younger woman. "Maybe that."
"No, no, no, ma chérie, never that, not you," demurred the spider. You are not a poison, you are a... a cure, she thought, but that's hardly thematically appropriate. "A poison is passive - a poison, you bite it, you die, it has no say in the matter. Now..." she thought, "a venomous creature... it bites you, and you die."
"Huh," said the pilot. "Venomous. Venom."
"It is a thought."
"I like it," said Venom, nuzzling at her lover's breast.
Widowmaker smiled and sleepily replied, "So do I."