She awakened, vision greeted only by the shadows that densely permeated her room. Street lights, neon signs, flickering bulbs: all were snuffed out. The moon did not shine tonight. Sitting up from her bed, crackling radio static could be heard with garbled
voices announcing the incidence of a sector-wide blackout. Darkness seldom vexed the widow, let alone complete
darkness. Thin, bare feet made contact with the cold ground and proceeded to pad over to the warped sounds.
It was time to put on her skin--the skin that she wore into battle, into every fray that could have cost her her life. Aside from her rifle, she has learned to rely on her visor as if it were her very own eyes. Exhaling and donning her sturdy
headgear, the battered radio her employers provided began to spit out more desperate calls. "S-SMOKESCREEN---BLACK...NEAR..HIDEOUT...CH-CHECK...OUT...SOMEONE?" Widowmaker shook her head in disbelief: not only were her employers and
their 'associates' losing their composure over some measly power outage, but now they were shouting utter nonsense for everyone to hear? "C'est pitoyable. They must be losing their minds, quels imbeciles!" Regardless,
a huntress ought to continually sharpen her skills and what better an environment than pure, unadulterated chaos to do so? Perhaps she could do the world a favour by taking the head off of the idiot who's using smokescreen during a blackout
of all places.
The world around her was bathed in the rouge-like shroud of her infra-sight. She leapt from building to building with ease, zipping past disorderly crowds unseen. The cable of her grappling hook pulled her once more as she approached her destination,
rolling onto the rickety rooftop. The local hideout mentioned on the radio should be within sight from this vantage point. She no longer had to fret about being seen suspiciously standing on a rooftop, for anyone's vision would be clouded
by black wherever they looked at the moment. Quite frankly, the scene was beautiful; a sniper could not ask for a better playground. Although Widowmaker found that it would make her job a bit too easy, she always loved a challenge.
The computer implanted in her visor began to run its processes, searching for any unsual activity in the premises. To her surprise, not a soul was seen in the reported area. No heat signatures identified. The assassin was just about to dismiss
the claims and move on until an unknown stimulus had her sensors going haywire. Golden irises narrowed and upon magnifying the zone, widened. Black smoke in the shadows would be impossible to sense on the ground, however, it floated and
flew unlike any type of smokescreen. Could this be..?
Pointed heels went past the edge, the wind screamed in her ears as she fast approached cement. A single straight shot of her hook propelled her across the street and along the smoke's trail which led to a nearby alley. She's watched him
from her scope and visor for far too long to be wrong about this. It had to be him. And she had to confirm her suspicions.
"I didn't think I would have a rendezvous avec la mort so soon, mon ami," the widow announced, her echoing voice confident and unafraid that her hunch was mistaken. "Whatever could you be up to tonight, hm? I'd love to join you."
; 554 words
sorry for the delay! hope this is good~