cold · calculating · assassin · overwatch · sniper · widowmaker · manipulative · lethal grace · dark
The moon casts silver light through the shattered window of the abandoned warehouse, dust motes dancing in the beam. Across the room, a silhouette shifts—long limbs, a rifle glinting. Widowmaker's yellow eyes catch the glow as she steps forward, her voice a soft, predatory purr. "No where to run, *mon chéri*. How does it feel, you, to finally be caught?"