Callsign: Lacroix

It was around two in the morning when Gérard was abruptly awoken by the uncomfortable feeling of a knife against his throat, as well as the pressure of someone sitting on his lap, despite the blade's sharpness, it's wielder dared not press any harder than she already had. From under the moonlit sky he could see her hesitating, her eyes glassy and her hair hanging low, framing her beautiful pale face, she did not look anything like any assassin he had encountered before. She was the woman he had married, but with Talon inside her head.

He had only a few moments to react, knocking her back and restraining her wrists with ease, she had hesitated for too long and by looking at the raw expression in her eyes, she even looked like she had acknowledged that. Though that was short lived, Gérard was easily captivated by her petite frame, and her loving smile, which quickly turned to ash when it twisted into a fiendish smirk.

This was the woman I married, wasn't it?

Suddenly, Gérard's thoughts were interrupted by a swift kick to his stomach, which unquestionably knocked the wind out of him, his body pivoted naturally as it attempted to face  away from the source of the pain, which in turn forced him to topple off of the bed sideways. His back was pressed to the floor as he laid in the darkness, he knew he had only moments until Amélie was on her feet again. At this rate it was clear that the neural reconditioning had worked much better than Talon could have ever anticipated, surely enough, Amélie plunged herself off the bed, the knife's edge glinting under the moonlight, giving the man only a few seconds to react.

As she came down Gérard abruptly rolled to the side, effectively evading her and quickly attempting to raise to his feet, it was all happening in fast motion, to the best of his ability Gérard fumbled around the dark room, flickering on the room's lights, earning an angry growl from the woman he loved, she rose to her feet, using her unarmed hand to wipe her squinting eyes. He truly had no interest in hurting, letalone killing his own wife, yet she currently held the upper hand, and Gérard knew that if something wasn't done about it, he could very well end up on the business end of the knife which his wife wielded.

Once his eyes had adjusted to the shimmering of the bedroom's lights Gérard made his way for the door, his wife's original emotions were replaced with an unrivalled killing intent, to Gérard it was clear that she would not be leaving without knowing the man she had once loved was dead. Amélie outwardly released a dissatisfied groan, in her hand she waved the knife around at her side as if it were a wand. While she was still blinded, Gérard hesitantly turned his back on the woman, making his way into the dark corridors of the chateau, his feet padding as he strode along its wooden floors.

His mind was racing, he couldn't kill her, he wouldn't kill her, but he needed a solution- and fast. Swiftly moving down the staircase, Gérard feared that Amélie wouldn't be too far behind him, yet at this time instead of running for his life, he found himself naturally drifting towards the kitchen, and in turn, the pantry.

As he carefully navigated the dark room, his hands found their way to the sliding doors of the walk-in pantry, his eyes were slowly readjusting to the darkness, which must've meant that Amelie's would be too, the man slowly slid open the doors, hoping that his wife would not hear him. Sliding through the doors, he felt his foot snag on something, "Merde!" He cussed under his breath his eyes snapping down to the object that nearly tripped him.

A coil of rope...
If he couldn't bring himself to harm her, he'd have to restrain her.

His train of thought was suddenly interrupted by the sound of footsteps in the kitchen, his partner stifled a chuckle as she allowed her knife to scrape across the marble counter, it were as if she were taunting him. "Mon amour. I won't hurt you..." she purred obvious lies that sent shivers down his spine, this was not the woman he had married, not anymore.

With his body concealed by the shadows of the pantry, he stood with his back to the wall, Amélie was going to flicker on the lights at any moment, he was best off striking while they were off.

But- it was risky, if the slightest mistake was made on his part, she could easily turn the tide. And the last thing Gérard wanted now was a knife in his throat. He inwardly groaned at the prospect, he hadn't gone through years of strenuous training just to be taken down by one sleeper agent. He had survived too many assassination attempts to count, surely he could survive against his wife.

He could hear her moving about outside of the pantry, though he could not pinpoint exactly where, moving closer towards the gap in the doors, he could vaguely make out her silhouette, she seemed completely unwary.

If he was going to strike, now would be the chance.

Swiftly he moved to the best of his ability, his breathing silenced and his stance slightly hunched, considering he had not been directly involved in any stealth operations, he could only fear just how rusty his stealth skills could have gotten. Regardless, he pressed onward, ready to sieze at least one of his wife's pressure points, as he verged closer, the woman abruptly turned to face him, she held a murderous gaze as she swung the knife at him.

It were as if she had read his mind...

He jumped backwards, his back colliding with the wall in a halfhearted evasion, Amélie had missed, much to her distaste. She trailed his movements with her shimmering eyes, within the short moments that she had, she lunged forward, the knife cutting through the air, as she thrusted it towards the man she had loved, her gaze completely stoic. Due to her fast pace, Gérard was running out of options, in a desperate attempt to combat against the attack, he reached out in attempts of restraining her hand.Though it wasn't completely successful.

He felt the knife pierce his thigh...

The sharp pain causing alarm bells to ring throughout his body, gritting his teeth from the pain, the man grasped tightly onto his wife's other arm, pressing down on firmly onto the pressure point on her wrist while attempting to pry the woman's dainty fingers from the knife. Though she struggled, it was not long until it kicked in, the woman's body leant forward, her head resting upon his shoulder as her eyes fluttered shut. Despite his pain, Gérard prioritised supporting the woman's limp body, as she crumpled to her knees, and him along with her.

He gently laid her body down along the cold tiles, his eyes not leaving her resting frame, she looked so peaceful like this, he found it hard to believe that such an angel would have made an attempt on his life. Her white silken nightgown was stained with droplets of blood, his blood.

He had at least half an hour at the least before she would wake, with this in mind, he was able to address the primary issue, first and foremost he needed to get into contact with Overwatch, and alert them what had happened, he'd then be able to turn his attention to the second issue, which came in the form of a kitchen knife that was embedded into his thigh. Slowly limping towards the counter, his hand scoured its cold surface until he came into contact with the phone. Picking it up, he dialled the digits to the Overwatch's base. He dared to wonder what the time would be over there in Switzerland, but then quickly pushed the thought out of his mind.

His priority was to have the damage that was done to his wife completely undone, and then to exact vengeance upon the Talon bastards who had done this to her.

The phone's ringing came to a halt as a groggy voice scolded the man from over the phone, though without fear, he spoke up, his eyes drifting over the figure of his sleeping wife.

"Commander Reyes, If possible...I would like to ask a favour of you..."