She has been lying in wait for over an hour - sixty seven minutes and thirteen seconds, to be exact. Lacroix does not lack for patience; she is its master. A hand moves up to activate the metal halo crowning her head. She returns a stabilising grip to the rifle as a visor slides into place over her eyes. In 4.76 seconds, military-grade software constructs a detailed overlay that frames the environment up to two kilometres out from her current position. Lacroix tilts her head and through a red-tinted scope, sights the target.
Gunther Siegel, private benefactor of one Dr. Harold Winston.
Lacroix's toneless voice retains traces of a honeyed French accent when she speaks. "Magnify, times five."
An office grows before her eyes, a balding, sharply dressed man sitting before a large desk with his back turned to the city. He appears to be looking down, not at the papers spread in front of him, but something else.
"Magnify, times six."
Lacroix does not react to what she sees. She only considers whether the success of the mission outweighs the consequences of the unforeseen complication. It does.
"Activate Guidance System."
Guidance System Online
"Calculate distance."
1,804yd 1.3853ft to target
"Correct for elevation."
Calculating vectors...
A scarlet reticule inches upwards away from the back of the Gunther Siegel's bowed head.
Process complete
Lacroix feels her long tail of violet hair flutter against her left shoulder.
"Compensate for bullet drop. Adjust for slight westerly crosswind."
The reticule shifts once more.
Process complete
"Run test simulation."
Locking in current configuration...Running test...Kill confirmed
Lacroix does not react; of course it is. She has already made the necessary calculations herself. She is not an amateur. She is more than simply a professional. Arrogance, however, is a flaw. Talon makes no room for mistakes. The Widowmaker prepares to live up to her name. A wealthy, adulterous husband will not be missed by his wife. Lacroix slips her finger onto the rifle's trigger and -
"Hey, pet, wotcha' lookin' at?"
She blinks, and turns her eyes to find none other than Tracer resting her head comfortably on her buttocks. The two women stare at each other. Lacroix forgets to count the seconds. Then she remembers the mission.
Gunther Siegel.
She spins around, her eye aligning with the rifle scope. Tracer's weight disappears as Lacroix pulls the trigger.