Overwatch Widowmaker Sniper Novels & Stories

"The security droids are idling. The loop is holding, but the core processor is starting to purge the memory. You have three minutes before the house wakes up." "I don't need three minutes," Dante replied. I heard the muffled thud of a flash-bang from the floor above, followed by the rhythmic, clinical pop-pop of his suppressed .45s. He wasn't auditing; he was clearing the ledger. I reached the server vault a chamber of pulsing crimson light that looked like the interior of a heart. And there, sitting in a high-backed chair of spun glass, was the discrepancy I had been hunting. The Widow. She didn't look like a ghost. She looked like a queen in exile. Her hair was a shock of silver, pulled b

The impact sent a shockwave of digitized force through the room, throwing Jax into the wall. "It's too heavily armored!" Jax coughed, picking himself up and gripping his data-sword. "My blade is just bouncing off its code!" Ren scrambled to his feet, ignoring the searing pain shooting up his physical spine. He raised the Widowmaker and fired without looking down the scope. CRACK. The sniper round struck the Warden directly in its monitor-face. The glass shattered, but beneath it was just a solid wall of red code. DAMAGE DEALT: 12. TARGET HP: 99%.

Actually, they should narrowed the timing because he wouldn’t waste a lot of time to make the move since he wanted to receive the commission faster as well. “Click on the next folder.” She ordered. He nodded and did so. Victoria’s eyes widened when she saw the profile of this individual. It was a woman. But it wasn’t just any woman. It was a woman named Catherine Dawn. “It seems like she is the person who sent the assassin my way. But who is she and why would she do that?” She asked herself.

She had squeezed her eyes shut, her face turning away in silent shame, as though the thug’s cruel words had wounded her more than the knife ever could. The dark aura around Raghav intensified. His vision tunneled, focusing solely on the thug and the knife pressed to Asha’s neck. The thug was still grinning, oblivious to the deadly storm raging within Raghav. "What are you looking at?" the thug barked, irritation creeping into his voice. "Throw me the keys!" The thug’s arrogance was his undoing. Raghav moved quickly, with a speed that caught the thug off guard. In one smooth motion, his hand left his pocket and shot behind his back, pulling out the gun he had tucked away there. His movements

He smirked with something sick flashing in his eyes as he glanced at Elena, who was fully focused on the ballet performance opening the event. "Two?" I asked, incredulous. "Yeah. A sniper and a spy. Both working together. She took them out." Lucas leaned back, drained his martini, and stood. A crowd of women swarmed him—but they gave him space. Word still lingered about that incident a while back when a woman got too close... and he shot her in the head without flinching. "I was too busy dealing with other crap to send just one assassin after you," I muttered toward Elena.

The silver was hindering my healing factor; the wound burned like acid. I reached the third floor and paused, listening. The sniper had gone quiet—either repositioning or waiting for me to expose myself. I moved silently along the rooftop, keeping low, my gun raised. The air conditioning unit loomed ahead, a massive metal box humming in the night. Behind it, I heard the soft scrape of fabric against concrete. I rounded the corner fast, weapon aimed. The sniper was there—a woman, maybe mid-thirties, with short dark hair and cold eyes. She had her rifle trained on the parking lot below, searching for me.

"I just realized it myself. She is gone so soon. Your wife, I mean. And in such a horrible way at that." 'Wife? We are not married yet.' The sniper thought, curiosity slowly eating at him. Right now, he wanted to just take a quick glance at where she was but he knew he would hundred percent lose sight of Wilson if he as much as turned his head. It seemed like this their target is not a rookie as he had initially thought: He knew how to escape one's line of sight, could pick good hiding spots from snipers and even knew how to say words that was sure to cause anyone to lose focus.

The weapon: knives. The arena: a narrow circle of fire. Amara stepped into it barefoot. “So eager to bleed for men who’ll never love you,” the Widow whispered. “I don’t bleed for men,” Amara said. “I bleed for vengeance.” Their blades clashed in a blur of motion. Each strike was a question. Each dodge, a revelation. The Widow was no amateur — she moved like someone trained by the same people who’d built Isabel into a ghost. But Amara was faster.

"That's Khleassandra. She is the Long Range Shooter of the family. What she used was an M16 Rifle also known as an AR-15." My eyes widened as I caught my rest. I didn't understand what he was saying because my life was more important to me. "I don't want to! Please! I don't want to play with you guys!" I struggled as I said that. "Let me go! Please!" Before I could fully recover, the tangerine on my shoulder was suddenly destroyed. The juice splashed on my face. I felt and heard something close to my ear. "And that is Allison. She is our Sniper. She used a Remington M24 SWS."