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

No matter how much I think about it, it doesn’t make any sense but there’s not much for me to act on when my life can easily be taken if They declares it. They always knows everything yet no one ever knows anything about They. Not even They’s closest allies. I might crave my freedom from being under They so badly but I won’t do anything that’ll leave me under They’s prying watch. Not when they all my life since I was a child, I was bound to a man as a slave with the illusion that I was a skilled personnel. Not when I love being an alive asshole than a dead saint. I swallow, throwing my sniper on the ground of my home rooftop, falling backwards, flat on its concrete surface. I’m exhausted. My

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%.

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

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.

"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."

"That's my girl. Make it clean." Raven set up her shot, finding the perfect angle through a gap in the shutters. The sniper was pinned down but still dangerous, still trying to complete his mission. She centered her aim on his chest. Controlled her breathing. Let everything else fade away except the target and the trigger. The shot was perfect. The sniper dropped without ever knowing what hit him. "Beautiful work," Vincent said, watching through the monitors as his security team confirmed the kill. "Now let's go have a conversation with our friend in the kitchen."

I see Niki giving the guys instructions before coming to the car I’m in. “You and Hunter will drive. Owen and I will be snipers on the roof,”she says while opening the roof and adjusting her machine gun. “You are not sticking your head out, no ways!” “Owen and I are the only snipers here, stop being so patriarchal,” she reprimands me and continues adjusting the gun. She has completely misunderstood the reason for my objection. “This has nothing to do with your gender. I can’t lose you, Niki. How many times do I have to tell you this?”

The mysterious sniper, her face hidden, lowered her rifle, her voice—soft but deadly—lingering: “This ends now.” “Who are you?” I demanded, my voice raw, my shoulder stinging from the visitor’s graze. The sniper stepped closer, her silhouette sharp against the firelight from the helicopter’s wreckage, but she didn’t answer, her eyes scanning the cliff for threats. Liam’s grip tightened, his love a vow that steadied me, his bloodied shoulder trembling but his resolve unbroken. “Sophia, we need to move,” he whispered, his lips brushing my ear, a promise of a future we could still fight for.