5 done, who knows how many more to do (My guess, about 30-ish, 40 tops). So, I have decided (mainly out of a lack of inspiration), to have POV switches every now and then. Obviously, the most common second POV will be Tracer (the reason is in the title and description), but this chapter will have Pharah's because I need to/want to introduce her. Now then, last, but not least, I have been toying around with the idea of a second pairing in the story, any suggestions from the readers would be nice because I have genuinely no clue with all the possible future directions with this story I have.
Pharah
Fareeha Amari, better known by her call sign of Pharah, watched the newest member of Overwatch while he sat with Tracer at the British table. She eyed him as if he were a soldier of Talon in her gun's reticle, her pointer finger absentmindedly flexed back and forth, pretending it was gripping the trigger.
From her youngest years with her mother, to those without, Fareeha had been raised to be loyal to her country above all else, save for family. Egypt was the motherland, and as such, demanded the loyalty of all her children. Even in her years outside of the army, her loyalty remained unwavering, and she never took any job which might see her against her country or its people.
Though she was well aware that the Israeli before her was not in control of any of the events regarding the current war between Egypt and Israel, he continued to be persona non grata in her eyes and would remain that way. However, Pharah would do nothing to him, unless she was provoked, and even she hoped not to be.
Her fellow compatriots, on the other hand, seemed to be handling the whole situation worse than she. The one right beside her, Aram, was gripping the table hard enough to break it, but his eyes were fixed at the food before him instead of the new sniper. To her left, the second in commands of the science department at Gibraltar, Ife and Khepri Stevenson, gripped their utensils like weapons. Unlike Fareeha or Aram, they had more cause than the other Egyptians at Gibraltar, which numbered about twenty, to hate the Israeli—their father had died in the Second Yom Kippur War at the Battle of Sinai. Even with the justification, it was a surprise to see them breaking from their usual calm, live and let live nature, and that was just from seeing him. Pharah could not imagine what would happen if they were forced to consistently associate with him.
"This is such bullshit," Aram spoke, breaking the silence of their table.
"Agreed," The twins Ife and Khepri said together.
"Honestly, what the hell was the UN thinking with this?"
"It's quite simple, they weren't." Ife sputtered out through gritted teeth.
"That fucker's country starts a war, with the possibilities of creating a larger war involving almost every country in the Middle East, and they just let him in. What the f…"
"It doesn't matter what we think," Pharah spoke for the first time, effectively silencing her fellow Egyptians. "They think he can be of some use, so we must deal with it, and believe me, you will."
"How can you be fine with this?" Khepri questioned, looking directly at Fareeha.
"I'm not."
===line break===
Like most of Gibraltar's inhabitants, Pharah spent a good portion of her time at the shooting range. It was a basic fact of life that while in Overwatch, you had to shoot a lot, even Mercy went to the range, though admittedly a lot less than everyone else.
This time, though, was different. She was not the one shooting, she was observing. Despite her personal opinions of the man she watched, Fareeha needed to know whether or not the young man was a confident marksman, and thus far, what she saw pointed toward it. Unlike the previous snipers who had joined Overwatch, this one did not hesitate to pull the triggers. The others, they all lacked the immediate response to a target being in one's sight, they paused at the moment of truth, and inevitably this had led to their deaths.
He was different. He rarely missed and immediately pulled the trigger, almost rhythmically. Pharah may not have liked him for his nationality, but she would begrudgingly admit she would come to respect him in time. If one did not respect others, one would find themselves dead.
"Do you plan on actually shooting, or just watching?" the sniper spoke, pulling her from her thoughts.
"What's it to you?"
"Honestly, nothing, but still, if you are just going to stand there, then at least practice."
"I will, once you leave, Israeli."
"Then you shouldn't have wait, Egyptian. I'm all finished for the day."
His voice was calm and lacked any vitriol or acid; he spoke like he was reciting a fact, Pharah hated it.
"All yours," he said, before walking past her, keeping a defined distance from her, not even once casting a glance. She immediately noticed yet kept quiet. She honestly did not care.
===line break===
Levi
After the customary call home, Levi showered and went to bed, as was his routine each day. The Ruach had said that creating a certain, unchanging way to end the day would help ease the mind into the realm of sleep after a long day of battle and brutality and stress. The mind likes consistency, he had said, and since there sure as shit was no consistency in war, an end of the day routine would help calm it the hell down. Such were the scout's thoughts as laid his head down on his bed's pillow and shut his eyes.
But God had no intention of letting him sleep, not yet anyways. The moment his eyelids closed, an alarm went off in Gibraltar, and he was called to action. As if back at the Battle of Sinai, Levi leapt out of bed and jammed on his camouflage fatigues, miznifet, and assorted gear. Last, but certainly not least, the scout slung his IWI Dan on his back before departing for the assembly room.
Personnel ran about the whole complex, making the sound of feet pounding against metal louder than the sirens, as well as that of a large carrier being prepared for take off. After five minutes of navigating through a sea of people, Levi finally arrived at the assembly room, finding its members surrounding a large circular table. All were dressed for battle in various forms of advanced suit, ranging from Pharah's armor to D. Va's body suit. In comparison to the scout, he felt out of place in his uniform, which could be considered primitive in comparison to his teammates, but regardless, he took pride in it.
"Now that we're all here, let's begin. Athena, if you please."
The table ceased to blink, a golden hologram of the earth replacing it, with a single red dot over England, a tiny caption beside it carried the word London.
"Shite," the British member whispered the moment she saw where the dot was.
Winston placed a reassuring hand on Tracer's shoulder before beginning his monologue on what was ahead.
"At 2100 hours, Talon soldiers attacked the US embassy building here in London. While we don't know the specifics of what happened, we do know they were attempting to either capture or kill the US representative for the UN, who was supposed to speak with prime minister tomorrow. Our mission is to take out Talon's presence and save the representative."
The room's occupants nodded in agreement and prepared to leave, but the intellectual ape stopped them with one last phrase.
"Be advised, Widowmaker was spotted near the area."
The scout stiffened at these words, silently cursing himself for believing General Aleksander when he said he would have plenty of time before facing the infamous Talon assassin. A single bead of sweat formed on his brow as he clenched his teeth as tight as he could. He was not looking forward to what lay ahead of him. His hand reached for his Star of David while a prayer began to form on his lips.
"Time to shine, luv," Tracer said to him as he exited the assembly room following the others' lead towards their dropship.
===line break===
Nobody spoke inside the dropship; if a pin was dropped, it would be as loud as a scream. To his left, Pharah checked her gun and gear, adjusting bits and pieces here and there or ensuring it was all in place with a single touch. In front of him, D. Va slouched on the ground undoubtedly playing some video game on her phone with music blaring as loud as possible—of which the scout heard, unfortunately. At the very front of the ship, just behind the pilots' seats, Tracer flashed back and forth, jumped up and down, and did other overly hyper forms of preparation for what lay ahead. Just in front of her, Mercy stood straight as an iron rod with her eyes closed and her staff gripped tightly in hand. Only God knew what she was thinking or doing.
Twirling his miznifet in his left hand and muttering Psalm after Psalm, the scout thought over what he would do once the dropship landed. Unfortunately, the group did not really have a plan of action, but the scout knew he more than likely would be tasked with watching over his comrades in arms. From what little had been shared, he knew he would need to get to the roof of one building and work from there, taking out enemy snipers, if any, and watching out for Widowmaker. Observance was going to be key for him, since Talon would inevitably be holed up inside the embassy, so he would do just that, observe.
"We are here, landing taking place in thirty seconds," one of the pilots yelled from his seat in the cockpit, signifying for everyone to get ready.
"Twenty seconds."
The scout loaded his first magazine into his sniper and turned off the safety.
"Ten seconds."
He placed his Star of David talisman around his neck into his mouth, feeling the cold gold against his teeth.
"Five seconds."
He positioned himself beside the dropship's door, which began to creak open.
"Out the door! Out the door!"
"The cavalry has arrived! Whee!" he heard Tracer exclaim while he jumped out of the ship and into the streets of London.
Bullets and shots of light whizzed through the air in collages of color and sound, burying themselves into buildings and the ship which began to lift off and away from the beginning fight. The whole group of heroes, save for Pharah and D. Va, ran for the line of trees which surrounded the outside of the glass building, whilst the aforementioned members made their own path.
The Egyptian soared through the air like and eagle raining down gun fire and explosives upon the Talon soldiers who were situated just at the embassy's lobby all the while screaming "Justice rains from above!" The Korean pilot on the other hand, made her way to the large pink robot which had finally arrived, wasting no time to hop in it and plow a large opening through the line of enemies outside of the building. The great mechanical beast absorbed all the shots like a shield as it moved forward and unleashed a barrage of light upon her enemies ruthlessly and quickly.
"Opening, let's move!"
In a surge of blue, Tracer was gone, and Mercy was flying after her, leaving the scout all by himself at the place of cover. Silently, he removed his sniper from his back, laying it gently on the ground and positioning himself on the floor behind it. His left hand moved to the scope, adjusting it to the wind and finding the perfect settings for the current range. His right hand wrapped around the stock, and his finger slipped onto the trigger. His other hand then repositioned itself on the stock, now being used as place for his cheek to rest.
"But be not thou far from me O Lord," he murmured in his native Hebrew, placing his eye to the scope.
"O my strength, haste thee to help me."
The scout adjusted his sight to his first target, hiding behind a door and holding an anti-tank weapon of Russian manufacturing. The soldier levelled it towards the mech rampaging its way forward, looking for a weak spot.
Crack!
A splatter of red mist soared into the air the moment the bullet made contact with soldier's face, flinging him to the ground like a ragdoll as bits of bone and flesh flew from what once used to be its face.
The scout's fingers worked the bolt action, chambering another round with a satisfying click. The line of sight moved to the left, to the soldier beside the recently dead one.
Crack!
The bullet tore loose from the barrel travelling and passing through the enemy's neck. It crumpled to the ground, gagging and holding its hands to the gushing hole in an attempt to stop the blood pooling in front of him. Slowly, its life faded away between its fingers.
Another round found its way forward to be fired.
Crack!
Crack!
Crack!
The scout's crosshairs reached higher into the embassy, attacking those hidden in the upper floors, causing them to fall out the windows and hit the ground like meteors. Nobody even noticed his presence; it was as if the hand of God was wiping the soldiers from the great beyond.
A fresh magazine was rammed into the gun as the scout moved forward from his position and into the open, staying low whilst his teammates fought to claim the whole lobby of the building. Just before he could cross the threshold, he heard a loud bang in the distance and watched as it crashed into the back of Pharah's armor, sending her spiraling through the air and into one of the embassy's pillars inside the lobby. Mercy was at her side immediately checking her for any injuries; the Egyptian only shouted a long list of expletives in both English and her native language.
"Where'd that come from?!" Tracer shouted, flashing away behind the pillar beside Mercy and Pharah.
The scout looked out through the windows, scanning the rooftops of the buildings about five hundred yards away for any signs of the enemy sniper, whom he believed to be Widowmaker.
"Tracer, you're fast, attract her attention with something!" he yelled in said Brit's general direction.
"What do you mean something!?"
"I don't know, just run out into the open for a second, and then get back into cover!"
The scout got onto his knees, using some of the rubble at the window to hide himself and his gun's barrel. The scope continued to search the rooftops for anything, whether it be great stealth positions, possible defilades, or good cover—none of which he found; the rooves were flat and offered little cover for a sniper.
"On my mark go…"
"One."
He placed his talisman star back in between his teeth.
"Two."
No signs of anyone still.
"Three, go!"
A flash of blue erupted behind him, before disappearing almost immediately after it appeared.
The scout heard the gun shot and saw the bullet for a brief second.
The target was farther than he predicted.
"Three klicks away, maybe a shade under. I wouldn't venture out there unless you're ready to meet your maker."
"No shit!" the downed Egyptian screamed at him. The scout didn't register his comment, his hands were changing out his current scope for his long-distance model. Once it was clicked into place, he took aim.
"Blessed be the Lord my strength," he recited a prayer from memory as his cheek once again came to rest upon his left hand holding the stock.
"Which teacheth my hands to war, and my fingers to fight."
His crosshairs glided forward towards the source of the shot, or at least where he believed it was from. Exactly two and a half kilometers away, his target lay hidden inside a church steeple, cloaked in darkness, and trying to find its own kill.
The scout slightly adjusted rifle's positioning, moving it upward slightly, to compensate for distance. He paused his finger on the trigger, slowing down his breathing and searching for the space between heartbeats.
He found it and pulled the trigger.
He observed the splatter of red and a single blackened face fall to the ground. Not her.
"Move to the next floors, I'll keep watch."
Saying nothing else he went back to sniper duty, waiting for someone to shoot at again. No other snipers appeared until the group had secured the US representative. His teammates were escorting the politician out of the building to an open dropship ready to depart when he saw the glint of the scope and heard the shot.
"Sniper!"
The sound of metal tearing through flesh filled the air following the crack of the enemy's rifle. The scout unloaded shot after shot into the night, but it was already gone.
She was already gone.
He looked back, expecting to see a dead man surrounded in a puddle of his own blood, instead being greeted with the sight of Tracer sitting atop of the US representative, whose hand was bleeding lightly, and the other heroes crouching on the floor.
"Thanks for the warning, luv. Need a drink?"
Finito. Okay so here's the deal, the story will turn to M due to 1. Me adding more gore and violence in the next missions and fights and 2. A single lemon much later. I have decided to try to write one and make it as well made as I can. Anyways, that aside, I really enjoyed writing this chapter, specifically the sniper scenes with Levi quoting the Bible. I got to pay homage to one of my favorite war films ever, Saving Private Ryan (PFC Jackson, the sniper, says the Bible quotes). Also, from now on, if you see anybody talking in italics (like this: "Generic phrase") that means the person is speaking in a different language, which will either be specified in the actual story or in the author's note. Anyhow, thanks for reading, until next time.