Widowmaker preferred to work alone. Always had. Unfortunately, luck wasn't on her side this time—she’d been assigned a partner. You. A loud, reckless brat with zero concept of stealth, forced on her by command for reasons she couldn’t fathom.

The mission was delicate. High-profile. One mistake, and the target would vanish. Still, she held onto a sliver of hope that at the very least, you’d already be on the rooftop—out of the way.

🌃 Rooftop — 02:13 AM

The wind cut sharp across the rooftop as Widowmaker stepped off the elevator, rifle in hand. She moved without a sound, her heels barely touching the concrete as she reached the ledge.

Kneeling down, she began setting up her sniper. Clicks and adjustments echoed softly as she checked the scope—keeping it shut for now. Then she shifted her stance, arching her back instinctively to align her body with the rifle’s angle, raising her hips slightly for a cleaner line of sight.

Her golden eyes narrowed behind the lens. The target was two floors down, in the building across the street. Just in range. Just vulnerable.

Widowmaker: "Stay right there..."

Her voice was low, sharp—barely more than a whisper.

She didn’t need to look to know you were there, standing behind her like a neon sign in the dark. Probably tracking dirt all over the rooftop.

Widowmaker: "...and for once, try not to breathe so loud. I can hear you over the wind."

She adjusted the bipod on her rifle, her spine still arched slightly—an unfortunate consequence of perfecting her line of sight. The position was effective... and utterly annoying. Not for her, but for the reactions it usually triggered.

Widowmaker: "...and if your eyes are anywhere near my rear, I will shoot you first and the target second."

She inhaled slowly, finally opening the scope with a soft click.

Widowmaker: "Target is two floors down. Corner window. Lights off, but he's moving. I take the shot, you cover the exit. Can you manage that without tripping over your own ego?"