The Overwatch Au...she returns!
One Shot. One Kill
October, 2070
Her rifle was a Kinamura and she was using .338 rounds. Accurate to 2000 meters, the bullet travels at 980 meters per second. She could do with less, but her enemies didn't get up from this. It was how she stayed alive. It was how she kept her people alive.
"All units, this is Cray. We have the hostages. Moving out. Mel, you ready?"
"Roger that," she said into her headset. "I'm looking out for you."
She moved across the rooftops, scanning the area. She took aim, her cybernetic eye zooming in on the Talon agents lying in wait. Aim. Fire. Aim. Fire. She cleared a path for Cray, for the hostages, for her squad. It was thankless work, she knew, killing other people. Some snipers liked to wound, to try and lure out the medics and take them down as well. She'd never had the heart for that. No. A clean headshot. They'd never even know they were dead.
"Agent down! Agent down!" Her head set crackled into life, and she spun, scanning the terrain.
"Melinda! They have a sniper! Where's the shooter? Melinda, report!"
She scanned the scene through her scope. The agent had been shot in the side, meaning that the bullet had come from his left. As she spun to locate the shooter, she saw a blur flit cross the scope.
"Shit, they're fast!"
"I've been hearing chatter about a new Talon sniper, moves like lightning…this could be him."
Melinda spun, following the movement. "Cray, the pink building- third floor, corner window."
There was an explosion in the direction she'd indicated, and she leapt down from her perch. There was a gunshot, and she flung herself to the side, rolling along the ground. A good shot. But the other sniper had just told her where he was. She ducked down behind a wall, swinging her gun up. And there she was. At the end of her sight was the sniper, a figure in a talon helmet, crouched in the upper story of the window. The wind was picking up as she squeezed the trigger. The gunshot echoed about deserted town as her bullet whizzed through the air, glancing off the side of the figure's helmet. She watched through the scope as it cracked, falling away from the rival sniper's face.
No.
June, 2064
"The key is not to hesitate. When you have the shot, you take the shot."
The girl nodded, her small, pointed face serious. She raised the gun and aimed at the target, her finger coiling around the trigger.
Bang.
"Good." Melinda nodded approvingly. The bullet had missed the centre but had connected with one of the inner rings. "Watch the recoil. It's throwing you off slightly."
The girl nodded and raised the gun again, her hands steady.
"Melinda."
She turned and smiled as she saw Alec enter the room. "Hey, Hunter. What's up?"
"We need you upstairs. There's been an Omnic attack in Germany. Blaze is already at the scene with the Crusader unit, but we need to get one of our teams there."
"Okay." Melinda shelved her own gun.
Bang.
"Pretty good kid," Alec said, walking up behind the girl and nodding approvingly. "But if you adjust your arm here…"
Melinda smirked as her protegee's face turned rather pink as Alec moved her arm into position. Someone had a teenage crush.
"That's it. Keep it loose, we don't want you to damage yourself with the recoil."
"Thank you, Commander Hunter!"
"Call me Alec, kid."
Melinda walked up the corridor with Alec, towards the command centre. "I think she's got a bit of a thing for you, Hunter."
Alec laughed. "What, Peter's kid? She's only what…sixteen? Seventeen? A bit young for me, don't you think?"
Melinda smiled. "I'm teasing you, Hunter. Still, you never know, she might have a diary with 'Mrs Hunter' written all over it. Maybe a lock of your hair? A tissue you once use-hey!"
Alec chuckled as she shoved him back. "Just because you were a weird teen, Mel, doesn't mean everyone was."
"You telling me you didn't have an obsessive teenage crush?"
Alec's face darkened for a moment. "I did. But it didn't end well."
"Do they ever? I used to date Zeb, for fucks sake. And then I rebounded with his brother! Look at my tragic love life!"
Alec's dark mood lifted for a moment. "I'd say one good thing came out of it. How's your kid?"
"Hmmm…rebelling against his bedtime and heading towards those dangerous teenage years…" her face softened. "And perfect in every way."
"He's eleven now, right? High school soon."
"They grow up so fast!" she said, with a heartfelt sigh. "I swear just yesterday he was screaming through the night and vomiting down the back of my top, and had the tiniest little fingers…What about you, Hunter? You want kids?"
"Haven't decided yet," he said with a shrug. "I'd probably need a girlfriend first, for a start."
"Ah well, you're got time, my young friend." Alec grimaced as Melinda reached out and pinched his cheek. "Oh, to be twenty-four and young…"
Their laughter echoed off of the corridor walls as they headed towards their briefing.
December, 2066
"Cat, give it back!"
Melinda joined in Mia's laughter as Cillian chased his cousin around the room, trying to reclaim the last cracker.
"Cat, stop being so mean to your cousin!" Mia managed to exclaim, tears of laughter running down her cheeks as the tiny red head somehow managed to keep evading Cillian's flailing arms. Melinda couldn't stop herself giggling either, although she thought that might have something to do with her third glass of wine.
"It's so lovely to have children round the house again!" Peter sat down next to the two of them, smiling at the antics of the youngsters. "I'm proud of how my girls have grown up, but sometimes I just want to shrink them back down to how they were."
Melinda smiled, and squeezed his arm. "Thank you so much for having us all round, Peter."
"It's my pleasure, Melinda," he said with a warm smile. "This place is too big for just the four of us at Christmas! No, it's lovely to have Overwatch and family around." He raised his glass to Zeb, who gave him a grin.
"Well, I will also say this is the best wine I have had in a while," Melinda said with a smile, sipping at her drink.
"You can thank Mariella for that! It's from her parent's vineyard in Italy."
"I will be sure to do so! I might just go and get a breath of fresh air though, as I might have enjoyed a bit too much of it…" Peter laughed as she got to her feet, tottering slightly as she headed towards the terrace for a breath of fresh air. This Italian stuff was stronger than she'd thought, and she felt a little woozy. She leant against the railing, taking in a deep breath of crisp, December air.
"We can't do this."
Her ears pricked up, and she turned towards the source of the voice. A man stood in the garden below her, facing what looked like a small woman in the darkness.
"Why not? You know you want to." The woman's voice was soft, persuasive, and Melinda heard the man breathe in sharply.
"It….it doesn't matter what I want. It's wrong."
"Why?" The female figure moved towards him, putting a hand on his chest. "Explain to me how this is wrong?"
"It…you're too young. It wouldn't be right."
"I'm nearly nineteen." The woman's -the girl's- voice had an edge to it now. She sounded almost insulted.
"And I'm nearly twenty-seven. I'm too old for you. I'm sorry, but I'm not comfortable with this."
It occurred to Melinda, in her tipsy haze, that she was watching something that she very probably shouldn't be. She also, however, knew that she wasn't going to go back inside, because she was just too goddamned nosy. So instead she took a sip of wine, and concealed herself behind a column, peeking out at the two shadows.
"I'm an adult. I thought…I know that you feel the same way about me that I feel about you."
"I told you, we can't…"
"You're like me." The girl's voice was filled with certainty. "I've never met anyone else like me. You understand me."
"Listen…please…"
"I know you care about me. All the time we've spent together, all the things we talked about…no one will ever, can ever understand you like I do. Love you like I do…"
"I do care about you. Which is why I won't do this." The man's voice was low, defeated. "I don't want to take advantage of-"
He was cut off as the girl pulled him in for a kiss. Melinda raised her eyebrows, taking another swig of her wine as they stood, clinging together in a passionate – almost violent- embrace, before the man suddenly broke free and pulled away.
"I…can't…" he said, before turning and fleeing into the garden.
The girl stood there for a minute, oddly composed, before heading towards the terrace where Melinda stood. She shrank back into the shadows as the girl passed, and her eyes widened as the girl's face was illuminated by the light spilling through the French doors. Petite, with thick dark curls, a dress of crimson velvet clinging to her body, flaring out at the hips. Melinda expected her to look upset, to even be crying, but there was an eerie stillness to her face. She brushed down her dress, before turning to glance back out into the night. It may have been a trick of the light, but Melinda could have sworn, for a moment, that a smug smile flitted over her lips, as if everything that evening had gone exactly her way.
April, 2067
The rain was torrential as they stood around the open grave, watching the coffin descend into the earth. Melinda kept her arm around her friend, holding their umbrella aloft as she watched her husband disappear under the ground, the only sign of the woman's distress the way her hand tremored. She'd always been ice cold, supressing her emotions until what needed be done was done, which was why she was such a good mission controller. Her friend's daughters stood across the grave from them, one weeping in a dramatic, pretty fashion which suggested keeping up appearances rather than actual grief. The other's face was as stony her mother's, her emotionless eyes fixed on the grave. But from where she stood, Melinda could see that her lips where white from where they were pressed together, and her fists were clenched. She wasn't sure if the girl was angry or grieving or both, but she was coiled tense as a spring, her spine rigid.
When the service ended, the rest of them began to walk away, heading back towards the house for the wake. But the girl stood there at the edge of the grave, exposed in the rain, the sheets of persipitation flattening her curls and soaking through her dress. Her mother and sister didn't notice, now clinging to each other for comfort, but Melinda saw her standing alone, dress plastered to her body, hair hanging in damp curtains. And she saw him turn back, and walk over to her, holding an umbrella up over her head and slipping his jacket around her shoulders.
September, 2068
She trained even harder in the range now, practising over, and over again. She wasn't an agent, having decided to go to university first, but she still put in the hours. Her favourite weapon was Melinda's Kinamura rifle, which she let her borrow on occasion. She was scarily good with it, almost as good as Melinda herself had been before her cybernetic eye. Now Melinda had the eye, she was near unbeatable. It was hard not to be when you had a built-in scope. But she had bigger things to think about than the girl; Cillian had started junior training, and she was going mad with worry. She'd tried to discourage him from following her career path, but he was having none of it. She felt her stomach twist every time she saw him walking through the quad with his cousins and Aaron's adopted daughter, Robyn, all of them looking over the moon to be wearing the blue and black uniform that marked them out as Junior Cadets.
She found him and Steve down at the training range one day, laughing as they took it in turns to fire their pistols into the target. The girl walked past them, her rifle in hand, and she gave Cillian a smile which caused his face to go pink.
"Has someone got a crush?" Melinda asked Steve once her son went to pick up more ammo.
Instead of smirking alongside her, Steve frowned.
"What is it?" Melinda ask, raising an eyebrow.
"I don't know." Steve looked concerned. "I don't like it. I don't like her."
Melinda laughed. "Why ever not? She's always been such a sweet girl."
"There's something off," Steve said, his eyes on the girls back. "Her smile never reaches her eyes. Sometimes it's like they're dead. Have you ever noticed?"
Melinda frowned. "She did lose her father recently, Steve."
"Even before that." Steve's green eyes were thoughtful. "Even when I was a kid, she felt…wrong."
February, 2069
"I don't know if I'll be coming back here." The girl's hands were coiled tightly around her rifle. I always thought I'd become an agent, but after Father…I can't do this anymore, Melinda."
Melinda sipped her polystyrene cup of coffee. "But you've trained so hard," she said, looking at the rifle still in the girl's hands. "You're at the range every day."
"I've been thinking about this for a long time," the girl said, her face earnest. "I just kept training for my own safety. After the Damians…" she trailed off with a distressed look.
Melinda shuddered. Bryony's capture had been several months ago now, but the look of anguish on Blaze's face was still burnt into her mind. The girl was in a safehouse now in Nepal, but even with her mother's grasp of medicine, they didn't think she'd ever walk again.
"It doesn't matter whether or not I'm an agent; Talon could still come after me, like they did to Bryony," the girl continued. "My father was an agent; my mother is part of mission control. No. I'm going to find my own place. Do a Ph.D. Distance myself from Overwatch. And keep a gun in the house that I know how to use." The girl paused, looking down into the cup of Earl Grey that Melinda had bought her. "Is that bad?"
"Of course not." Melinda put a hand on her shoulder. "You have to do what's right for you. If I could convince Cillian to go to University and stay out of danger, believe me I would."
The girl gave her a tremulous smile and sipped her tea.
March, 2069
Her phone went off at 1:30 in the morning. Melinda rolled over, letting out a groan, scrabbling around on the bedside table until she found it.
"Hello?" she said blearily.
"Melinda?" the voice on the other end was high pitched, frightened. "There's someone in the house."
It was the girl. Melinda sat bolt upright. "Who's home?"
"My mother, my sister…" There was the sound of footsteps as the girl moved on the other end of the line. "Oh my God…there's so much blood…Melinda, I think they're dead! They've been shot in their beds, what do I do, what do I do?"
"Can you get out of the house?" Melinda was pulling on her boots by this point, her trousers already pulled on under her nightdress.
"There's voices…they're on the stairs!"
"Find somewhere to hide! I'll send reinforcements to your location. I'm on my way!"
"I'm under the bed in my room, I've got my rifle…"
"Okay, keep quiet sweetheart." Melinda charged down the stairs, having sent out an emergency dispatch to the girl's address. She could hear her frightened breathing on the other end of the line. "I'm coming for you."
There was a scream, and the sound of nails scraping against wood. A gun fired, and then the line went dead.
October, 2070
The gunshot echoed about deserted town as her bullet whizzed through the air, glancing off the side of the figure's helmet. She watched through the scope as it cracked, falling away from the rival sniper's face.
They had never found her body. They'd thought she might have been taken, like Bryony, to be used for information. They'd never even considered that she might have set the whole thing up herself, that she'd been the one who pulled the trigger on her sleeping mother and sister.
"The key is not to hesitate. When you have the shot, you take the shot."
Her eyes fixed on the face she could see down the scope, for the first time in her life, Melinda Morano's finger hesitated on the trigger.
Ophelia Wormwood's, on the other hand, didn't.
