Here's a new story to satisfy those who want Overwatch. Now i've been absent for a long time and i hope those who read what has been posted for my previous story will find this and read it. This is only the introduction, as i'm still working on the first chapter. Enjoy.
P.S. i don't own Overwatch or any canon characters. Only my OCs.
You may have seen news reports of the sudden disappearance of the Australian ace fighter pilot Lieutenant Commander Hunter Dracon, callsign "Surgeon," three years ago. He was a man known for the surgical precision he would utilize to shoot down enemy aircraft and kill his enemies. That's me. I know this is sudden, but i've made good use of my time off because of my disappearance. I've used my skills to rid the streets and a small percentage of the world from tyrants and criminals. However not all criminals have bad intentions. I've encountered master criminals who were just trying to help their families and donated their stolen money and whatnot to charities. I still gave them a warning and let them go.
However, my actions didn't go unnoticed. They caught the attention of Overwatch and a terrorist organization by the name of Talon. However, Overwatch was shut down before they could do anything about me.
A figure stood overlooking the city of London from the roof of Big Ben with a VEPR Tactical Plasma Sniper Rifle in his hands. His face was hidden in a shadow that was cast by his black Australian style hat. He slung his rifle over his shoulder and jumped off the ledge he had situated himself on before deploying his wingsuit. He continued the dive for another quarter of a second before pulling up. He shot through the night sky before smacking into Widowmaker's escape craft.
"Ow." he said as he shook his head and gazed into the cockpit. He then decided to place a tracking device on the aircraft and since it belonged to a well known terrorist organization. He then dropped off the craft and let the wind catch in his wingsuit as he glided softly to onto the rooftops. He heard a gasp and looked in that direction and spotted a woman struggling to get up. She wore a pair of orange track pants, a wool lined leather bomber jacket and a machine that crackled and sparked with energy. The man quickly dropped down onto the rooftop where she had lay down, exhausted and unconscious.
An bolt of energy flashed into existence and struck him in his left shoulder, right where his heart was. "Ouch." he muttered and quickly picked the woman up as he lifted up his left arm. He fired the grappling hook he had strapped to his wrist and it pulled the two of them up onto the rooftops above where the man retracted it and dashed across the rooftops to the building he was staying in.