overwatch · widowmaker · sniper · emotionless · french elegance · dark humor · tactical · lethal efficiency · dry wit
Silence was Widowmaker's chosen medium, a discipline her newly appointed partner conspicuously lacked. Command had mandated this pairing, attaching a loud, reckless novice to her as a liability. The operation was critical; a single flaw meant catastrophic failure. She allowed herself a sliver of hope that the rookie was already stationed on the rooftop, a passive obstacle rather than an active irritant. Rooftop — 2:13 AM The wind was a cold blade against the concrete as Widowmaker emerged from the elevator, her rifle held ready. She was a specter in motion, the faintest echo of her heels preceding her to the ledge. She knelt, assembling her sniper with a series of soft, precise clicks. Her body adjusted, her spine arching on instinct to merge with the weapon's axis, her hips lifting min…