#Widowmaker lore

[half-developed-frontal-lobe]

I WISH there was someone who I could theorize and talk to about Widowmaker and Gérard LaCroix. Really.

Their story is a tragedy, and maybe I've missed something, but I don't have declassified to look at it entirely. I know LaCroix's story is in there, but I haven't put enough aside to actually buy it.

Part of me doesn't think he's actually dead, knowing how far an overwatch story can twist.

[wildwinterlunas]

The most insufferable Overwatch team up for Talon would be Lena and Cassidy cause they will not stop messing with Widow and Reaper.

It's also because the respective match up is Reaper vs a long ranged fighter who knows his fighting and Widow vs a close ranged fighter she can't get the jump on, but that's surprisingly second to the fact that they just get under Reaper and Widows skin.

[podsn]

I thinks it’s very interesting that Blackwatch started out as Reyes and Gérard and then now Reaper works with Widowmaker. This parallel is very nice.

[professionalranter31]

I think every season they should do map changes like what they did with Colosseo

With Colosseo it added more to the map, both gameplay wise but also just to the overall feel and enjoyment of the map (but they should still add the fountains back) and I’ve been having a lot of fun playing it now than before the rework

But I also think it should be done for maps where it doesn’t do anything gameplay wise such as on MEKA base on Busan I think they should make the rooms for the other pilots and not just D.Va since they were her teammates before she joined Overwatch and they are now the defenders of Korea down one member, I just feel like there should be more given to them. So map changes that serve only a lore purpose

Then with other maps like Chateau Guillard it could serve both lore expansion and also just map expansion. With this map (yes I think they should either add new Deathmatch/Elimination maps still but the others should be given some love) I got three ideas for additions they could do. We get Widowmaker’s room, getting an idea of how she sleeps and such, a dock area for when she has to leave via boat, and a helipad for when she has to leave via airship. The last two could have vehicles or they don’t but it would give more to what is essentially Widowmaker’s base of operations when she isn’t on missions

Same for Petra, give some stuff relating to Venture since it was revealed that the place is a Wayfinders site and Venture was working there when we got their gameplay trailer, such as maybe their tent that they sleep in and such

For Kanezaka I would love to see stuff for Kiriko there but also stuff for the rest of her Yokai gang as well as Hashimoto stuff, I also think Hashimoto stuff should be added to Hanamura (they need to do something to put Assault back into the regular circulation of game modes for quick and competitive because the maps are too beautiful to not be properly used) and Hanaoka alongside signs of Kiriko’s fight against them. These changes can be either be just Lore additions or they could be expansions for gameplay stuff as well

Gameplay wise I can think of three maps that for me personally I think would benefit a lot from and that is King’s Row, Route 66, and Numbani since the defenders only get two spawn rooms while only similar maps they get three, same as other maps. It would change up the flow of combat and could really help, hell with Numbani the new Defender’s spawn room could be Efi’s workshop or something like that

Also, I think with the weather and time of day variations of maps they should change up where certain things are placed that would be reasonably moved, such as at Blizzard World the gryphon ride near the first chokepoint might not be running at night or in the rain. Introducing that would make the variations more fun

Changes to maps that help better tell the story of the map and just make it more fun to play it becoming a more regular thing for the seasons I think could really help the game, you guys got any ideas for map additions or changes?

[ironchef13]

What IF: Miles Morales entered the Overwatch Universe? (story idea)

Here are Two hypothetical scenarios which Miles entered the Universe of the video game Overwatch and or Overwatch 2

Scenario 1.) set months after Beyond the Spiderverse. Miles has finally got being Spider-man figured out. He saved his dad, stopped the spot, and helped in reforming the Spider Society. He was just about to head home after patrolling the city when he is ambushed by two unusual individuals. One looks like a grim reaper with shotguns (reaper) and the other looks like a spider-themed assassin with a sniper rifle (Widowmaker). After an intense battle spiderman is subdued, captured and sent through a portal very different from the one the spider society uses. He finds himself in another universe (again) and in the clutches of a terrorist organization called TALON. Miles is able to escape however, but now has to try to find a way back home and learn to blend in in a world where humans and robots coexist. He will eventually meet members of the now disbanded peacekeeping organization called Overwatch and they will try to help him in his quest to get home. -As a plot twist I think maybe Olivia Octavius (Doc Ock of earth-1610) is the one working with TALON and the reason Miles is stuck in that Universe -Also, Gwen and the rest of the Spider-Gang discover Miles is missing and immediately begin a search party for him. Which might prove difficult since he is in a dimension Outside the "Spiderverse".

Scenario 2.) Set after BTSV, Miles saved his dad, stopped the spot, saved the multiverse, and is now in a relationship with Gwen Stacey. He also has his own dimensional watch so he can visit his Spider friends anytime. And now since his parents know his secret identity it has made being Spider-man a little more manageable. But then one day during a fight with Electro Mile's watch gets zapped with a ton of electricity, supercharging the watch and making it go haywire. So much so that it opens a random portal that sucks Miles in and takes him to the world of Overwatch right when the Null Sector invasion begins. He then Decides to team up with the now reformed Overwatch to protect the world from Null Sector while trying to find a way back home. -while this is happening Gwen and the Spider-Gang will discover what happened to Miles and try to search for him, like in the end of Across the Spiderverse. But by the time they find the right dimension (which takes about a day or two) the find that Miles has been in that dimension for several months all while training with the heroes of Overwatch. (Because like Miles said in the first movie "Time Is Relative")

-I figured Gwen had a few adventures in the Multiverse while working for the Spider Society, so it's only fair that Miles gets his own as well-

[ovwechoes]

Can I just say how much I like how you write Widowmaker so far? Focusing more on how she feels with her partner and how much those feelings mean to her is very interesting. It's more unique than the "frigid, professional, and unfeeling 24/7" version people tend to write her, especially in relationships. This isn't to bash people who do write her like that. It makes perfect sense for Widowmaker, but you have a refreshing take on her.

I appreciate that anon! I like to write her as someone who keeps that façade up because it's easier to guard herself and maintain that public image of a natural killer, and explore her emotions as a result of the trauma she went through with Moira's experiments and Blackwatch as a whole. It's better than only looking at her as though she's only one thing, when everyone has multiple sides to themselves.

Honestly, I love Widowmaker and exploring her emotions as though she's regaining them all over again with hesitance. She's still an organic human with a human mind, so I don't think she's ever had her emotions removed completely - just been too scared to show them because of what Blackwatch/Moira did to her and what they might do if she were to drop the mask she wears. She's the perfect example of PTSD/trauma being shown in a diff way, I guess in an avoidance attachment style yaknow? It makes sense for her to be written that way but I genuinely think she's much deeper than those traits alone

IDK i just love her and thank you for the compliments! I rly appreciate them c:

[by-ag-mn]

Talon doesn't have enough doctors. They have 4 tanks, 4 damage (including Don) and 2 medics (including Maximilien. Baptist does not count since he is considered a member of Overwatch). I could make Angelo a medic, but they is more of a mercenary than a member of some organization... it will be interesting to see someone from Korea who is associated with the null sector that D.va fought with. Possibly from Vishkar (but we already have Lifeweaver, so it’s unlikely). I don’t remember any more organizations associated with the talon...

[artbytesslyn]

I just wanted you to know (cuz I’ve been consuming your Taleena content since, god, 2017? 2018?) that they are SO gay in the new game, if you hadn’t seen. I’m talking not that “non canon ending bs” I’m talking GAY EXPLICITLY and it’s incredible. I know you probably aren’t super invested in MK anymore, just wanted to let you know, the war was long and hard but we won it. (Kitana even makes the equivalent of “the closet is glass” comment to Mileena and its the funniest shit) Anyways, I adore your work, wanted to share the glad sapphic tidings of they made Tanya so gay she broke her sacred vows to kiss Mileena!

lucky for you my mental problems include never releasing my favorite characters from their private rooms in my brain

[everybodyheresgotsomethingheavy]

I need more overwatch moots

[bixels]

ough where do we even start, OW's lore has been dead in the water since the end of OW1, it's evident Blizzard does not care about OW anymore because we haven't gotten anything on the lore since then, only them dangling the keys in front of their audience for the past half a decade with the vague promise of lore with Venture coming out and their reveal trailer/comic and Ramattra, but then continuing do absolutely nothing with those plot points

In certain parts they've entirely retconned the story, usually for the worse, take for instance the odd way they just aged up Pharah to queerbait their audience so 'Pharmercy' (Pharah x Mercy) wouldn't be such a weird and controversial ship with a rather large age gap, or how they just threw Moira under the bus and used her as the big bad evil scientist who made Reaper and Widowmaker the way they were

As for Kiriko, she's definitely a character, the new Ms. Overwatch, at least until Juno (Space Ranger) came along, who knows if she'll still fill in that role

Either way, she was also weirdly retconned into the lore, tacked on to the Shimada brother's lore as though she had always been there. She feels like someone's OC, she adds nothing to the preexisting lore of the two or the Shimada clan and she's not even part of it, she's part of the Kamori clan, additionally she adds nothing to the lore of OW as a whole, but neither does any of the other newest heroes - Juno, Illari or Venture

I’m still holding onto bets that Pharmercy is their next “break in case of Blizzard controversy.”

[half-developed-frontal-lobe]

A continuation of:

'Who trained Widowmaker?'

An analysis on Ana's sniping skills, how they've changed. Widow's sniping skills, and the skills the person/people who trained her needed.

This is a continuation of this post.

Thank you @professionalranter31 for asking these questions! I had a lot to consider while writing!

If we were to have a hero/person like this, we'd need to account for what Widow learned in training, and what Ana lacks in her skill set as a sniper (before and after she got her eye shot out).

These people/person would have the advantage on Ana's weak points, but similarities in Widow's skills.

Widow wasn't taught on how to kill just Ana. She needs to be an effective sniper for every target she's given. Mondatta, Ana, Vialli's henchmen, etc.

Ana was a well known threat to enemy snipers in the past. She posed as a bigger caution for Talon, Widow, and the trainer.

Ana's sniping skills/weak points:

Before her eye got taken.

Before she got her eye shot out, Ana's right eye had a cybernetic enhancement that allowed her to see 6x more than her normal vision.

She had an advantage in perceptive distance, with a powerful rifle to pack a heavy punch.

With the Kinamura, I don't think the gun itself has anything to do with Ana's skill overall. It's used to get the job done, but only the person holding the rifle has a say in whether they hit or miss.

Another note to add is that Ana rarely needs the scope. Meaning that iron sights alone are enough for her to make a clean shot.

She had drones that she could manually control to detonate. You could call that a defensive action. But it's nothing that conveys her skills as a marksman.

She uses it to clear the unknown sniper (Widow) out of a building, and give herself time to reposition.

However, mobility is something that Ana lacks, even in these comics, Amelié is notably faster than Ana's tracking and reaction time.

You can tell when Ana first thinks that there are two snipers. Widow's capability of shooting and moving at fast paces is something Ana struggles against.

When she does see Amelié, she uses the terrain to bounce her shot, and hits her target.

Ana considers this to be "maybe the toughest shot she has ever made".

If she can't see her target, she can't predict her shots. It's only after she sees Amelié that she shoots. She has no form of recon.

In the end, Ana's hesitation is the one weak point that causes her demise. It was a long enough time for Amelié to grab her rifle, aim, and hit her mark.

Weak Points:

Lack of Mobility

Hesitation (Specifically with Widow)

Persistence in Vision (Difficulty Tracking)

Strong Points:

Long Range Perception (With Cybernetic Aid) She rarely needs a scope.

Location Repositioning Skills

Strong Defensive Tactics

Ana's Sniping skills/weak points:

After losing her eye.

She's still a great sniper, but no longer has her cybernetic enhancement nor a highly accurate rifle that can do lethal amounts of damage per shot.

Her sleep darts and biotic nades are defensive abilities, meaning she still doesn't have that mobility that she was missing before.

In the New Blood comics, she is still able to reposition effectively with Fareeha's help as her and Cassidy run from Talon. Nonetheless, she is missing a few key parts from her past.

Ana's changes:

Biotic Rifle (no longer Kinamura)

No longer has Cybernetic Eye (Cannot use iron sights for long ranged targets)

Choices and Hesitation towards Widow (Definitely)

Sleep darts instead of drones

Weak Points:

Lack of Mobility

Persistence in Vision

Strong Points:

Repositioning Skills

Strong Defensive Tactics

Unlike the Widow's Kiss, the Biotic Rifle is a one bullet projectile shot when out of scope. It still does the same amount of damage as Ana's down sights. If you hit your shots.

In comparison, Widow's Kiss is an SMG when out of scope, and the shots are more scattered and spread out after a short duration, but it's much easier to hit someone with it being a hitscan.

Widowmaker's skills/weak points:

We don't really know much about Amelié's training, but we do know that in the end, she went through rigorous amounts of physiological and psychological changes. Slowing her heart rate, turning her skin blue, and essentially suppressing her emotions. Said emotions can only be shown when she is about to eliminate/eliminates someone.

Like Mondatta's assassination.

There's also a post here that I think is eye opening about Widowmaker. It dives into Widow's character and how she's written/rewritten.

Her speed and mobility give her an escape route if she is cornered or needs to reposition. She also has a Venom Mine, much like Bio-nade, that she can use defensively and aggressively.

She does has some downsides. Widow struggles from tunnel visioning on her objective.

I think that her own need for adrenaline rush is why she's so one track minded when it comes to getting the job done.

Amelié struggles with spacial awareness, and you can see it in the Overwatch animations.

She was trained as an assassin, for isolated and planned out attacks.

She's better where she has space and the upper hand to attack. If someone is attacking her directly without having time to prepare, she's vulnerable. Unlike Ana, who is trained in close combat.

The only way she's able to catch a disruption the second time with Mondatta is because her infra-sight helmet is what detects Tracer's blinking.

Widow's helmet is what aids her in the one thing that she struggles with the most. Probably why it's mostly used during the times of the kill, even though she's got a clear shot on Mondatta.

Perhaps it's something she wasn't able to fix on technique due to her physiological and psychological changes.

Weak Points:

Spacial Awareness (Tunnel Vision)

Addiction for the rush

Close Combat skills

Strong Points:

Mobility

Speed

Recon and Tracking (with help of infra-sight)

The Trainer's skills/weak points:

None of this is a canon character, but if Widow considered these people or person to be the best to train her, this is a theory on what they'd be like.

If it was a group of people teaching Widow how to snipe, perhaps they'd all have different skill sets. Alternating between teachers.

If Widow was taught by one person, and they were considered 'the best', this person might be neurotic. Honing in a hyper awareness to their surroundings.

I don't doubt would be the case if you were a sniper who works in Talon. This person could have been forced into the organization unwilling. They'd be jumpy and tense.

Wanting to avoid the tribulation of Talon, they're keen on doing what they're told. I wouldn't doubt if they did have trauma from it being long term.

This could also be a downside, when you're aware of everything, they need to pick priority, but there's an overstimulating amount of alerts coming in.

An example would be Peter Parker discovering his powers in TASM.

It may take them a while to fully reconnect with their team after they fuss over minor details/movements that are invisible to other teammates.

Something that they're physically skilled at, that Ana and Widow both naturally struggle with.

They should have knowledge with rifles and combat (defense and mobility) from someone who's associated with those things. It's not explored by Antonio, but discovered by Akande.

I'd assume their skills are not fully unleashed and explored until Akande takes power over Talon.

They fully haven't eliminated any targets until Akande takes that leadership role. They might have seen death under Antonio's rule, but haven't participated until later on.

Such eliminations include Vialli's henchmen, old Talon friends of Antonio, the regular bounties of Talon, etc.

This also makes me think they could've been put into Talon at a young age, unconsciously coping with stress by diving into work head on.

If this person were to have trained Widow, they'd have to be completely in the know with her physiological and psychological change to incorporate it into her training.

They would have seen Amelié trying to cope with her kidnapping/Gerard's murder, in a similar way they did with their coercion, except it's a more avant-garde approach.

Weak Points:

Neurotic

Perfectionist

Lack of Ambition

Disconnected (specifically from their team)

Strong Points:

Spacial Hyper Awareness and Tracking

Insanely accurate shots (ricochets or dead on)

Strong Defensive

Mobility

With their weak points, they're a person who will get the job done right, but not because they want to. There's nothing in it for them. They do it because they're told to.

They can hit their shots, but don't seem themselves as 'good enough'. This could at some point hinder them. There is no cause, why are they doing it?

Survival.

I like Ana's line,

"We all have a cause worth fighting for."

Because it may completely differ for this character, who's main goal is just to get by in life. This character had their goals ruined at very young age.

They could have wanted to go a different route instead of working with war and money in Talon. Maybe they're skillful in something else.

That is entirely up for debate depending on where this character is from.

They could find their old and new goals, reviving their passions and objectives.

Their understanding and learning of Widow's experimentation could uproot old goals in their quest for redemption.

They'd grasp concepts of healing after being surrounded by that environment, where their weaknesses (perfectionism & neuroticism) could help them understand how to aid the less fortunate people in Talon.

Whether or not they leave Talon after seeing something they had a part in creating; a cutthroat sleeper agent with no means of remorse. They do find reason in leaving and try to redeem themselves for not stopping it in the past.

However, this is all just a theory and in no way canon, so please tell me what you think about it, and feel free to add your own perspective.

Abilities:

My take on it-

Their passive should rely on recon.

An example might be Wraith's Passive or Seer's Passive from Apex Legends.

A passive where footsteps and movement can pinpoint where the enemy is hiding.

Detecting enemy heartbeats through walls but not being able to see their outline.

Either movement, heart beats, where it's scattered when not scoped in, but extremely accurate on one target when aiming down sights. Audio triggers.

Other heartbeats are softened but still present.

A heartbeat sensor by the cross hair.

Rapid heartbeats for unseen injured allies or low health enemies.

I would love to see an enemy widow eliminate someone and see the effect of their heart rate spiking (because of Widow's character), giving away their position.

For their tactical abilities, defense and mobility, should imitate something like Widow's.

Horizontal or Vertical grapple where momentum depends on when you let go. Like a pendulum.

Less accurate zip up, more of a swinging motion.

Wall stick, much like Talon's assassins, capability to hug the wall for a period of time.

For the primary weapon. I took inspiration from how the Triple Take in AL works.

Down sight spread is slowly decreased after a period of time. Longer the choke, more precise the shot. The more damage on one target.

Hip fire has the scatter spread similar of Widow's Kiss and the fire rate that is similar to Ana's biotic rifle.

Possible Ultimates:

Limited timed accurate shots that can ricochet off of hard surfaces from tight angles.

Aiming is necessary. A line that turns red when detecting a target. Or yellow/green for healing an ally.

Movement from enemy greatly effects this ultimate. Can be paired with recon abilities from other heroes.

Choke still applies to rifle but charge up might be reduced.

Or a different ultimate would be:

Limited time shots through walls.

Harming enemies or aiding allies.

Regular precision choke still applies to rifle.

Of course these are just ideas. If this ever were tossed into the game I do think that a lot of balancing would be involved. But if this is the 'best' that Widow says, time would be a precious thing for this character.

There's another part of me wondering if this character would even pick up a rifle anymore, knowing what they've done in the past. So maybe they wouldn't use a rifle? Maybe something else.

(that was a lot of writing, I'm gonna go take a nap)

[wildwinterlunas]

ever since you made that post proposing cassidy as one of the only overwatch members she'd be able to have decent convrrsation with, it changed my whole perspective of them entirely. like, they have so many common threads: gérard, reyes, ana, sharpshooting and even the fact that they were forced into lives they didn't want. i think there's so much potential in having him be the one who finally cracks the façade that's implied to be loosening up from the interaction between moira and widow

It's not just the common threads but the fact that they both have very similar attitudes, as well as losing people close to them around the same time. That and the fact that Cassidy would 100% match her energy, she'd call him a dumb American and he'd hit back with the fact that she's French. That and they'd actually challenge each other in the practice range in a heathy way.

I could see them doing thing like drinking together, maybe even a wine bottle being added to Cassidy's little spot in the Practice Range to show that they've been hanging out. Cassidy would also be a person who she could bring Gerard up around and not be met with hostility or a misunderstanding of the situation. I would love to see a moment where they're shooting together, Widow makes a quip about her being the better shot and Cassidy just pokes fun at Gerard's shooting skills in response.

There's also the common thread of them being trained by the best and not only the skill that comes with that, but the pressure. Widow was trained by Talon's best yet she still always feels the need to compete with characters like Ana and Ashe, she needs to be the best cause what will happen to her if she isn't? What will Talon do? Meanwhile Cassidy has the legacy of two Old Guard on his shoulders, he was Gabriel Reyes's protege and very much considered Ana Amari's eldest, that dynamic is mentioned in a canon history book god damn it! Imagine having those two legacy's on your shoulders while also dealing with your own legacy and history. Yes they were trained by the best but that comes with unintended consequences, mainly being that pressure the also be the best.

I think Cassidy would also understand the fear, they were both stuck in a separate situation for years, with no visible way out, only being able to fall deeper. Now they got that chance and what are they supposed to do? This life is all they've known. There's a reason why Cassidy was a gun for heir and a mercenary, it because it was familiar. The same thing will go for Widow once she gets away from Talon, she won't want to go back to who she was because that isn't here anymore.

[lunoval]

Overwatch... oh Overwatch.

Overwatch lore was good. Overwatch lore is bad. These are unfortunate truths, but what caused this change?

In the OW1 era, the lore was part of the reason the game gained its popularity. Putting aside the gooner aspects that (massively) boosted the game's numbers, most fans interacted with the lore via YT cinematics. I don't have to beat the drum on this point, it has been said many, many times before. They were good. Same with; we don't get cinematics anymore, and what we do get, never moves the story /forward./

But, I think it would be too easy to blame the lack of lore on the downfall of the company, or perhaps even whatever is left of the development team.

It's because they kept adding Heroes. Even before OW1 fully fell off, the issue began when Wrecking Ball was added to the game, with a completely missed opportunity for a compelling narrative. (Wrecking Ball’s DISLIKE for humans, opposed to Winston’s fondness for them.)

The lore of Overwatch has stagnated with our growing roster. The number of characters is now bloated to the point that telling a compelling narrative, providing entertaining content, having good storytelling, becomes highly difficult, if not impossible. 

Set aside the understandable economic reasons that the company running the game needed to keep releasing characters, to keep players numbers up while they still can. Those reasons are valid, and not what I want to focus on.

Overwatch lore can't move forward until the developers either A, Split up the group, scatter them across the globe into teams (so scenes have fewer characters present)  or B, Decide who the main character, or at least main cast, of the franchise is.

A - Splitting Everyone Up - The Overwatch 2 Announcement Cinematic was fun as heck to witness. The other 3D cinematics suck. Where half of the time, half of the characters visible on screen just stand awkwardly like extras, occasionally piping up with voice lines that resemble all previous dialogue. Splitting people up, sending characters on missions, would give opportunity for NEW interactions between these characters. It feels like each one of them only exists in a ‘cluster’ of adjacent Heroes, without meeting any new ones. Has D.VA met Junkrat? What does Bastion think of Genji? What does Zenyatta think about Zarya? What does Lucio think about working with Symmetra? Seeing these characters stand in a room, with confirmed issues with each other, without getting to witness any of their personality is boring, and the porn had better writing.

B - So many characters. So, so many plot threads. I'm not going to try and list them all, I'm just going to tell you the questions I have. Off the dome.

Are we going to get any in-universe explanation for the more magic-ky stuff, or are we just taking the actual magic ghost dragons at face value?

Will DVa choose to prioritize protecting her country, or dedicating herself to Overwatch?

Will Reaper and Soldier ever kis-

What did Moira do to Widowmaker exactly/any hope for saving her?

How are Sigma’s powers and the Iris connected?

Anymore information on that mystery group Sombra is after? 

Why/How is Bastion sentient/thinking?

Will the rest of the world ever clean up the radioactive Australia?

This is all just to name a FEW of the potential directions this story could go.. It's a dense world, with a lot I enjoy. That's the sad part for me. Overwatch is, honestly, an IP truly possible for many shades of quality production, that blends a lot of genre’s… decently enough. The robot sci-fi gritty narrative with the Omnics and the humans. Hints of fantasy, or incomprehensible science, with the more powerful/harder to believe abilities or powers. The existence of ‘old gods’ being functionally confirmed with the release of Illari. All of Australia; the entire continent was left radioactive, and could easily fit Mad Max-style escapades. A good old fashioned shootout. Actual ninjas. Rescue missions. The changing of the guard, old Overwatch handing the reins over to the new, younger members.

Good things, cool things, we will likely never see from any company that ever gets their hands on the IP. The personal narratives for each Hero are either completely stagnant(Sorry, but Winston) or barely existed (Baptiste,Sojourn,Junker Queen, Life Weaver), or are only relevant because of ties to another character that’s more relevant. (Wrecking Ball-Winston, Ashe-Cassidy, Echo, Kiriko-Hanzo/Gengi, Illari, Mauga). Venture, Juno, and Freyja are newer characters that I don’t want to hold to the same standard, but I doubt it’s going to change.

I understand that because it’s an FPS, how can they ‘move the plot forward’(with any real stakes of death)  if they don’t want to change the main game, but then they never should’ve brought up any sort of story mode. OW was always building up a compelling narrative, if you try to tell me they bailed on what could’ve been an absolute beast of interwoven modern story telling because they felt scared to bend the rules, I call chicken shit. Kill Reinhardt off in the lore, and keep him in the game. 

But, such is the way this stuff goes. Anyways, imma go search up sojourn thighs on twitter. If this gets even 5 notes, I’ll put out all my thoughts on potential plot threads for all the characters we have, all the fun ways this plot COULD move forward. Hell, maybe I’ll write the story I want to see myself.

[daemonchainz]

As someone who favors Widowmaker over Hanzo

Hanzo fans deserved to have this World of Warcraft skin. Hanzo would have ate that crop top bra thing up!

Ignoring the lore is one thing but ignoring the characters literal hero weapons is insane.

Sill angry Ram didn’t get the mythic. Also upset Illiari doesn’t have a Ra skin and instead has a god of war.

Ana and Pharah didn’t Isis and Horus skins, literal mother/healing and god of the sky. I would rather Ana got this than the mythic weapon.

Venture didn’t get an archaeologist skin and still doesn’t have ANYTHING

Doomfist getting a skin of Bast, a goddess of fertility, is literally so laughable when they could have given him Thoth. The skin is really nice tho.

[cornsoupflavour]

Hit List (Overwatch NSFW Smut) [LORE]

⚠️18+ ONLY - MINORS DNI⚠️

Widowmaker, Amélie Lacroix x Male Reader

Tags: 2.4k words, enemies-to-lovers, multiple creampies, mention of breeding & assassinations

Image credit: Qi Sheng Luo on ArtStation

In the late hours of the night, you, Y/N, a relatively new recruit for Overwatch right before it collapsed, found yourself locked in a scuffle with none other than the infamous Widowmaker, Amélie Lacroix. The chase through the city finally came to a halt when you managed to trap the assassin in your own residence.

Panting, you dragged the stunned Widowmaker to the living room. Your hands had been stained with the remnants of your heated confrontation. The adrenaline from the chase was slowly dissipating, replaced by a sense of weariness.

"Lacroix, Amélie Lacroix," you stated, pronouncing her full name as you tied her to a chair. Once she was secure, you took a seat opposite her, your eyes never leaving the Talon operative. "Who sent you here?"

The only sound in the room was the ticking clock, emphasizing the silence that enveloped them. You crossed your arms, your tone neutral. "...and why?"

Widowmaker, however, remained stoic. Her purple-blue skin and yellow eyes stared blankly ahead, giving no hint of the information you desired. The silence was thick, an uncomfortable tension between the two.

That's when you remembered the recall Winston sent. You hang your head with a long, drawn-out sigh. "You know I'm not gonna let you finish your mission, right?"

You could feel beads of sweat trickling down your forehead, but you wiped them away, maintaining your stern expression.

You leaned back in your chair, the creaking of the wooden frame filling the room. A vein on your forehead pulsed as you glared at Widowmaker.

"Listen to me, Lacroix," you said, your voice dry. "I'm not in the mood for games. You're lucky I'm not going to just leave you here, roped up like a prize catch."

A long moment of silence passed as you stared her down. Her yellow eyes, so lifeless, still didn't betray any sense of emotion.

"You've got a pretty face, for a Talon operative," you remarked, your tone trailing off, hinting at sarcasm. "If only your brain wasn't so thoroughly corrupted."

You couldn't help but glance at her voluptuous figure, strapped into the wooden chair. Widowmaker's plump ass and hourglass figure were accentuated by her tight-fitting purple and silver bodysuit.

Suddenly, Widowmaker's tone shifted. Her voice was still cold, but there was an unexpected edge to it.

"Why don't we skip the questioning and do something more... enjoyable?" She suggested, her voice low and husky. "After all, I find the scent of your lust intoxicating."

You raised an eyebrow, taken aback by her proposition. In this tense moment, Widowmaker's suggestion seemed almost farcical. Yet, there was an undeniable attraction between the two of you.

"As if I'd give you the satisfaction," you responded, your voice full of disdain. "I'll be taking you straight to an interrogation facility."

You stood up, ready to escort the bound Talon assassin, but the thought of her twisted, alluring suggestion lingered in your mind. The quiet room was filled with an overpowering tension that seemed to hum in the air.

You hesitated for a moment, the thought of Widowmaker's proposition lingering in your mind. You remained standing, your body just a few inches away from her bound form. The scent of gunpowder and sweat filled the air. Your breathing was heavy, and your heart pounded. The room felt oppressive, the tension thick enough to cut with a knife.

You leaned in closer, whispering into Widowmaker's ear.

"Alright, Lacroix, I'll give you a deal." You spoke in a hushed tone. "If I allow you to expel my lust, I'll let you go. You'll walk out of here on your own two feet, and I won't track you down. We both forget this happened. But I want your word, here and now."

You could feel the heat radiating from her body, the scent of her perfume intermingled with the lingering stench of combat. Her stillness was eerie, and the only indication of her response was the rise and fall of her chest.

Widowmaker's lips curved into a small smile, exposing a set of sharp, white teeth. "A fair offer, Y/N. I accept your terms." Her voice was as cold as ever, but the seductive tone was unmistakable.

You hesitated for a moment, the deal seeming too good to be true. But, with a deep breath, you decided to go through with it.

"Alright," you stated, your voice firm. "But don't even think about betraying me. Once we're done, I'll set you free, and you leave. No turning back."

Widowmaker's stoic expression didn't change, but a glint of desire flickered in her yellow eyes. "Of course, Y/N." She responded, the promise of wicked pleasure in her voice.

You stepped back, adrenaline coursing through your veins as you contemplated your next move. The tension between the two of you was palpable; the room felt like it was about to explode. With a final, deep breath, you decided to proceed, ready to fulfill your end of the bargain.

Your hands tremble slightly as you unbuckle your belt and lower your pants, revealing your arousal. The anticipation of this encounter had been building, and you couldn't suppress the excitement coursing through you.

You moved closer to the chair and untied Widowmaker's legs. Her plump ass remained firmly planted in the seat, but her legs now dangled free. You spread them apart, giving you access to her most intimate area. The fabric of her suit was tight, but you managed to tear a small hole right at the entrance of her slit.

"Looks like I'll have to do this the old-fashioned way," you panted, your voice thick with lust. "I bet your body's itching for some relief, Lacroix."

Without waiting for a response, you positioned yourself between her legs, aligning your throbbing member with her soaking entrance. You slowly sank into her, the sensation of her tight warmth enveloping you sending jolts of pleasure through your body.

"Mmm, yes..." you moaned, your voice hoarse. "You feel incredible, Lacroix. I never knew you were this tight."

You began to thrust, your movements slow and deliberate, savoring the sensations. Widowmaker's body was a perfect fit, her folds clenching rhythmically around your length. You couldn't resist the urge to cup her plump ass, squeezing the firm flesh in your hands.

"Your ass is pure perfection, it feels amazing in my hands, Lacroix," you groaned, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. "I could spend hours just massaging it."

Your thrusts grew more aggressive as the passion between the two of you grew. Widowmaker's head rolled back, her body responding to your every touch. You leaned down, your mouth trailing kisses along her neck, causing her to arch her back in pleasure.

"Uungh, Y/N, I need you, deeper, please... Ah, nnn..." she moaned, her voice thick with desire.

You couldn't help but let out a groan of your own, your grip on her hips tightening.

"You feel so good around me," you panted, voice deep with need. "You're gonna make me lose control, Lacroix."

Your thrusts grew harder, more urgent, the air thick with the scent of sweat and lust. Widowmaker's moans grew louder, her body trembling beneath yours.

"Ahh, Y/N, I'm cumming, cumming hard, yes, Y/N, yes!" she cried out, her body convulsing as an orgasm ripped through her.

Watching her climax pushed you over the edge. With a final, powerful thrust, you let out a guttural moan, filling her with your release.

"Fuck, Lacroix," you panted, your body trembling. "You're going to cost me an entire day of work."

You collapsed, panting, onto her chest, your heart pounding in your ears. The room was filled with the sounds of your heavy breathing, the aftershocks of your intense encounter still coursing through your bodies.

Slowly, the reality of what had just happened began to sink in, but for now, you basked in the post-coital haze, the tension between the two of you replaced by an unspoken understanding.

As the afterglow of your first encounter began to fade, Widowmaker leaned in, her lips brushing against yours. Her soft, warm breath mingled with yours, and you felt the familiar pull of desire returning.

You broke the kiss, your eyes locking with hers. "Do you want another round, Lacroix?" you asked, your voice thick with lust.

Widowmaker nodded lustfully, a devious glint in her eyes. "Yes, Y/N, but this time, I want to be in control," she purred, her French accent thickening.

You untied her bonds, and she dropped her legs to the floor. Her costume was still partly torn, revealing her wetness. She grabbed your hand and led you to the couch, pushing you gently onto your back.

Widowmaker straddled you, guiding your still hard member to her entrance. You felt her tightness enveloping you, and she began to rock her hips, sliding you in and out of her at a slow, teasing pace.

"Mmm, Y/N, you feel so good," she moaned, her hips grinding against yours. "I love how you fill me up."

You reached up and cupped her breasts, the weight of them in your hands feeling perfect. Widowmaker arched her back, her head thrown back, her body moving with the rhythm you'd set.

"Oh, Y/N... Ungghhh, your cock is hitting all the right spots!" she cried out, her back arched, her ass undulating.

Widowmaker guided you to the edge of the couch, the change in angle providing even deeper penetration. You could see her plump ass jiggling with each thrust, the sight driving you wild.

She leaned down, her lips brushing against your ear as she whispered, "Mmm... ahhh... fuck, yes! Keep going, baby."

You pulled her up, your lips meeting hers in a hungry kiss, your hands gripping her hips, guiding her body up and down your length.

Widowmaker pushed herself up, her eyes locked with yours. "Uuhhh, I'm close, don't stop, Y/N!"

You gave her hips a firm slap, feeling a delicious shiver run through her body. You flipped her over, positioning her on her hands and knees on the couch, her ass still presented to you like the perfect offering.

"Uahh, you are driving me wild, Lacroix," you growled, giving her ass a firm smack.

You plunged into her from behind, the tightness of her pussy sending a shockwave through your body. Widowmaker's moans grew louder, her hips bucking to meet your thrusts.

You lowered yourself to her ear, your breath hot against her skin. "Fuck, Y/N, harder! I want to feel that cock pound into me!"

You obliged, your thrusts becoming more forceful, your balls slapping against her ass with each movement. Widowmaker's cries grew louder, her French accent thickening, "Ugh, Y/N, you're breeding me like the wild stallion you are."

As you watched her body tremble beneath you, you felt the familiar pressure building. Widowmaker's eyes locked with yours, her face a mask of pure lust.

You gave one final, powerful thrust, your release spurting into her. Widowmaker cried out, her orgasm washing over her.

"Oh, Y/N, pound my pussy, I want that cum!" she shouted, her back arching as she came.

You collapsed onto her back, your chest heaving, sweat dripping down your temples. Widowmaker's body trembled beneath you, her breathing ragged.

"Ahh, Y/N, your cock... I can't take it, I'm cumming!" she cried out, her body convulsing, her release coating your cock.

When your breathing had returned to normal, you looked down at Widowmaker, her hair tousled, her makeup smeared. Your heart raced as you realized what had transpired between the two of you, but for now, you savored the moment, the heat of your bodies still entwined.

"Uhhh, yes, Y/N, fuck me, don't stop, don't you dare stop," Widowmaker whispered, her voice heavy with satisfaction.

You didn't respond, simply pressing a soft kiss against her neck, content to linger in the aftermath of your heated encounters. As she caught her breath, you trailed your fingers through her damp curls, her body still humming from the orgasm you'd just given her. She looked up at you, her eyes unfocused, her lips parted in a soft smile.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against her earlobe before whispering, "Lacroix, I have a proposition for you."

Widowmaker met your gaze, her eyes piercing into yours. There was silence for a moment, the only sound was the soft rustling of her breathing.

You slowly inserted a finger into her wetness, gently massaging her inner walls. Widowmaker gasped, her eyes fluttering shut.

"Ah, Y/N, you're still so... insatiable," she said, her voice heavy with lust.

You continued to stroke her, the rhythm slow but deliberate, your thumb teasing her clit. Widowmaker's body began to tremble, her breathing became labored.

"Mmm, Y/N, don't stop," she murmured, her voice thick with desire.

Your finger began to move faster, Widowmaker's moans growing louder. "Ahh, Y/N, I'm close, I can't... I can't take it!"

You withdrew your finger, then replaced it with two, curling them to hit her g-spot. Widowmaker's back arched, her legs trembling.

"Oh, daddy, stopppp... Ahhh... ahhh, don't... stop...!" she cried out, her voice almost a plea.

Her walls clenched around your fingers, the waves of her orgasm washing over her. You continued to stroke her until her body stilled, her breaths shallow and shaky.

You removed your fingers, leaning down to kiss her softly on the lips. When you pulled away, you looked her in the eye.

"Lacroix, your talent is wasted on Talon. I'm offering you a chance to join the good fight, to make a difference. It's time to leave your past behind and start a new chapter."

Widowmaker stared at you, her eyes reflecting a mixture of thought and uncertainty. Her stoic expression didn't falter, but her eyes hinted at the inner turmoil she faced.

You waited, allowing her time to consider your proposal. The silence stretched on, the tension in the room palpable.

Finally, Widowmaker nodded, her voice low and firm. "Y/N, I'll consider it."

A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. "That's all I can ask for, Lacroix."

With that, the two of you lay entwined on the couch, the night still young and full of possibilities.

The future was uncertain, but for now, the promise of change lingered in the air. Widowmaker's stoic yet sultry demeanor remained, but perhaps, just perhaps, a small crack had formed, allowing hope to seep in.

And so, a new chapter began for Widowmaker, one that would test her loyalty and push her to confront her past.

[Let me know if you want a part two or if you want me to make this a long running story. And let me know who else you'd want to see a fic about.]

[forwhump]

a/n; happy new year !!!!!!!!!!!!!! have a little something nobody asked for <3 a little bit of background a little bit of lore and a whole lot of fun let’s gooooooooooooo 😚

tw/cw: captivity, medical torture, kidnapping, human experiments, mutilation, disfigurement, transphobia, misgendering, sexual violence, rape/noncon, racism

living weapon whumpee, outside pov

The most expensive weapon in military history had a budget that was undisclosed. Billions, maybe trillions of taxpayer dollars had funded all the greatest living minds across the world, scientists and surgeons and war heroes alike.

Operation Archangel. They’d nicknamed it Operation Widowmaker. The goal of the operation was to craft the perfect weapon. It was simple — every weapon had a fault. All of the money and carnage in the world at their disposal, and still, no weapon was perfect. Even the very best gun needed to be reloaded. 

The most expensive operation in military history was as simple as it was complicated — billions of dollars to fund the creation of the perfect weapon. It wouldn’t need to be reloaded. It wouldn’t need to stop. It would kill when they tell it to kill and it would only stop when they decided it was done. The perfect weapon was three things; it was pitiless, it was obedient, and it was relentless. 

Its name had been Silas Park, and it was only nineteen when they had gotten their hands on it. 

Clip can still remember, surprisingly vivid, how cold that room had been. He’d been standing at Grieve’s left, Spider at his right. Grieve was sitting between them, at a table in a cold room tucked away in the lowest level of the prison. Overhead, one of the lights flickered, humming loudly with the strain. There were two requirements for the weapon — he had to be violent, and he had to be somebody nobody would miss. 

They’d narrowed down the prospects, and the General, Grieve, had wanted to meet with them himself. 

It was going to be Park from the second he had been escorted into that room to meet them. It was obvious. 

He was a big kid. Park was tall in a way that was imposing, almost intimidating. He had to duck his head to fit through the doorway, forced down by the prison guards leading him in, and when he lifted it, he grinned at them. He had a wide, boyish smile, handsome and charming, dimples carving his face on both sides. Arrogant. From the corner of his eye, Clip had seen something twitch in the side of Grieve’s face and he knew that he knew it then, too. This kid was their weapon. 

The guards sat Park at the table across from Grieve. They shackled his hands to the surface and his ankles to the concrete beneath. A guard stood just inside the door, while the rest filtered out to wait behind the safety of the two way mirrors. The entire time, Park grinned at them. 

Park was actually kind of a crapshoot and it was hard to believe that it was going to be him. Clip had been kind of skeptical when his mugshot had come across the table — they were looking at some truly awful men, deplorable criminals, the worst of the worst, and some random Asian kid doing a couple years? 

He had a record of violence going back as young as thirteen, but a lot of it had been excused. Included, with his mugshot and his criminal record, were a handful of newspaper clippings where he was lauded, in fact, for his violence. Some considered it vigilantism, it seems. This last time, over the age of majority, he was tried as an adult for an assault on a twenty five year old tattoo artist that had put him in the hospital on life support and with permanent brain damage; it was Park’s brother in law, and he’d beaten his pregnant sister so badly she’d miscarried at twenty eight weeks. 

There had been a huge outcry for Park not to do any time; he was given three years because he got on the stand and openly admitted to trying to kill him. He was violent. It didn’t seem like he maintained a lot of impulse control. There was a likelihood he would reoffend.

However, he had family. There were people that would miss him. According to the records the prison had given them, there were people that would visit, and they would visit often. He had four sisters, and they each came to see him, one notably more often than the rest, almost every second day; the sister from the incident, if Clip has to guess. His parents came to see him every Sunday. 

His parents, fortunately, were both immigrants, and immigrants, fortunately, were easy to incentivize, especially with roots as deep as grandchildren. The threat, however, the surveillance, would need to be constant, and the buyout, substantial; it added quite a chunk to the weapons budget. Clip hadn’t been able to imagine that being worth it for some random kid. 

He could understand now. Whoever had put his mugshot in that pile must’ve already met him, because they must’ve known. It was something in the way he held his shoulders, in the way he looked at them, in the way he sat, cocky, confident, smug, but something else, too. Something a little more dangerous. He was the biggest person in that room. 

With a grin and a lift of his eyebrows, he’d said, “what can I do for you, gentlemen?” 

On account of the vigilantism — and phenomenal lawyers, and, probably, if Vein had to guess, being young and handsome — Park only got a few years, but realistically, he should’ve done more. A lot more. It wasn’t so much that he had tried to kill his brother in law but the messy, cruel way he had done it. It was the crime that had gotten his mugshot thrown in with all the others. No person should ever have to experience the level of violence this kid had inflicted. He was fucked up. And he’d never been sorry. Vocally, he’d never been sorry. 

It was obvious in the way he had looked across the table at them, young and arrogant and amused. He was a constant danger to the people around him. He was going to be the perfect weapon. 

A generous donation to the prison and the deportation of Park’s parents and his fate was sealed. 

He’d serve them for years, but his life ended that day, at nineteen. 

Weaver and Carver were names everybody knew, high and low, even outside the reaches of surgeons and medical journals. Pioneers, some called them. Unconventional. 

Really, they were mad. Their surgeries and their treatments, all experimental. Surgical and biological engineering, they called it. 

Really, they were human experiments. 

Thread had been flattered when he had gotten the call at the hospital, when he’d been pulled from his residency and hand selected to work under renowned Carver and Weaver at a highly classified, government funded medical program. They didn’t tell him what to expect. 

His name had been Park once. They call him Park still, but there isn’t a lot of Park left. He’d been a big kid when they brought him in, but he hadn’t been big enough, not as big as they needed him to be. The first line of offence, for any predator, is fear — they needed him to be fearsome. They needed a weapon that wouldn’t only kill the enemy, but made sure they died scared. 

There wasn’t a bit of him left untouched. Bone was transplanted, plated, organs replaced, flesh grafted. He’d woken on the surgical table as the scalpel had split the sensitive skin of his forehead, just beneath the line of his hair. He’d been shivering so hard his teeth had rattled against each other, his breath coming in short, wet pants. 

His brain was next. They needed him violent, but they needed him obedient. Pliant. 

“What,” he manages, and exhales sharply, trying to speak through clenched, rattling teeth. “What did you do to me?” 

Above him, Weaver makes a trilling sort of sound, the kind that passes as laughter. “At ease, Park,” he says. “You won’t remember any of this. We’ll make sure of it.”

Park was a fighter. 

He woke during surgery, and he woke with a strength they had just given to him. Three nurses died at his bedside before the soldiers were able to restrain him and he was sedated again. 

The first three lives he took in the district were before he was even off the table. 

They would be far from the last. 

Beneath the neon glow of the surgical lights, what was left of Silas Park sat up on the surgical table. 

A lot of him was still in there, was the foundation for what they’d created; it was impossible to tell by looking at him. If Thread hadn’t seen the construction, if he hadn’t had a hand in sewing him together, piece by piece, he imagined looking at him now, coming back to life, would make him retch. He was horrific. There wasn’t a kinder way to say or describe it, that’s as cut and dry as Thread could have been — Park was horrific. A grotesque patchwork of grafted flesh, of military grade technology, and the wounds were still fresh, the staples still raised. The jigsaw lines of his flesh, pulled tight and stitched together over the bulk of him, all looked strained and sore. It looked like it hurt. 

Park looked around the room at them, and he looked at them vacantly. 

“Can you tell us your name?” Weaver had asked, and he couldn’t. Weaver’s eyes had crinkled above his surgical mask. He always had very animated eyes — a byproduct, Thread wondered, of always wearing a mask. “Excellent,” he said. 

Park was kept in seclusion until a team had been chosen for him. 

He was shaping up to be a phenomenal weapon, to be exactly what they needed him to be. Every field test, he passed with flying colours. He could take a bullet and it wouldn’t slow him down. 

He was perfect. 

John Darren Grace was a formerly decorated captain and strategist, living at home after active duty with his wife and young children. He’d been bored, and when Operation Archangel had beckoned him out of retirement, he’d gone without much of a fight. 

John was Darren to anybody he cared about enough to tell his name, and Point to the men he worked with. He’d always been Point because of his cane, his precious Little Debbie. It was hooked on one end, scythe like, barbed on the other. He’d been known to do a lot of damage with the point of that cane. 

It was strapped to his back when he descended into the darkness of the district for the first time. 

Darren was to oversee the unit where the weapon and its team were being held. A branch of Operation Archangel were the super soldiers — an entire, unstoppable battalion to work alongside the weapon. Being the first trial, they didn’t risk any working men. They went for the reserves. 

Darren was assigned, specifically, to the select few chosen to work directly with the weapon, directly under him. The team was selected without Darren’s approval, or his knowing why. His first job was to track them down and bring them in, any means necessary. No witnesses. 

He had a lot of fun with this first job. 

Point found the girl in Texas. 

They’d gone down in search of her brother, Robin. He’d done three tours during his time, but Point couldn’t say what he’d done during those tours that had warranted him being assigned to the Freak Weapon Team. Frankly, he didn’t read any of the information he’d been given on any of the assets. He looked at the photograph and their general vicinity and went sport hunting. 

Robin was wandering the streets of Texas somewhere. He was last seen near Dallas. He was blonde. 

They found him, with ease they found him, because Point always found them. But with him, he found the girl. 

She was just a little thing, kneeling on the floor next to Robin, who didn’t have a lot of his teeth left and looked like he’d definitely seen better days. Point had no sympathy for the ones that fell off, he never had — if he wasn’t strong enough to be a soldier, he never should’ve enlisted. If he couldn’t handle it, he should never have wasted their time. 

Except it wasn’t a waste, because he had a girl with him. She must’ve been his sister — they had the same shock of white hair. Only hers was long, almost impossibly, pulled into a braid that looked soft and made her look a bit like a schoolgirl. She looked young — she could’ve been eighteen. It made Point angle his head. He’d always been very imaginative. A creative type, his wife always told him. Kind of a visionary. And he’d envisioned that little girl in a little pleated skirt, bent over the desk in his office back at the district, and the course of her life changed forever. 

“You’ve got a girl,” he’d purred. 

She’d looked at him, and she was probably trying to look indignant, but if she managed it went over Point’s head. She was very pouty, that’s all he noticed. Cartoon princess sort of mouth. 

He’d always wanted a pet. 

As the door grinded open, Bleak looked up, eyebrows lifting slowly as he watched Point and his extraction team filter back into the barracks. Everybody seemed to be present and accounted for, with the addition of the blonde slung over Point’s shoulder. A girl. Completely naked and long legged, her hair a white sheet at Point’s back. 

“What the hell?” He said. 

Point flashed him a grin as he passed his bunk. He’d always had a weird sort of grin, Bleak thought — didn’t reach his eyes. But, generous, he said, “gonna have to hurry and get in line if you want a turn with her.” 

“What?” Bleak said. “Are you serious?” 

“‘Course,” Point agreed, not breaking stride. “Wouldn’t be right if I didn’t share.” 

Bleak cracked a grin. She was limp over Point’s shoulder, unconscious. He thought, poor thing has no idea what she’s in for. 

None of them did, turns out. 

The walk back to the barracks was a solemn one. Over Point’s shoulder, the girl cried the whole way, but she was crying so hard she wasn’t making any noise, just these pathetic, hitching things. On a very shallow, base level, they made Vineyard kinda hard; they sounded a lot like the sounds she made when he was inside her. On a deeper level, if he thought about it too hard, he knew he would finally lose the steadily loosening grip he had on his composure — he would lose his fuckin’ mind. What does she have to be crying about? 

The walk back to the barracks was a solemn one. They each left bloody footprints behind them, uniforms soaked through by what little had been left of the soldiers not fortunate enough to make it out of that unit with them. About half of them hadn’t. The dog had killed so many of them. 

The dog had slaughtered so many of them. 

It was getting out of control, that thing. It was getting too strong — too sentient. It was becoming too aware. 

It was never supposed to think all that much for itself, that was the thing. It was supposed to bite and kill and do whatever vicious attack dogs do, the genetically engineered weapon, but that was it. It was supposed to turn off and back on again. They were supposed to say attack and it was supposed to do just that. It wasn’t really supposed to think. It wasn’t supposed to be able to form attachments. 

But that fuckin’ girl. It was fault, with her soft little noises and her wet little cunt. She was trouble. Vineyard had called it from the very first time he had laid eyes on her. Point never should’ve brought her here. 

It wasn’t his fault, though, not really, not entirely. The girl was to blame. The dog was dumb — it was simple. It had been modified that way. The girl had found a way to take advantage of that — she was manipulating it. And they had made it so easy for her; they took this pretty, pathetic thing, and thrown it in a cage with a monster that hadn’t been around a pretty girl since even before they had gotten their hands on it. 

Point never should’ve brought her here. 

For a long time, the unit was as close to silent as it had ever been. Not entirely silent, not ever — Bleak didn’t think this place was capable of that. There was always some sort of chaos. The girl still cried, Point made these snarling, animal sort of sounds, and her body was making these wet noises that Bleak was sure would be enticing to him any other time. 

But he had the girl face down, bent over the corpse of the dog, so freshly dead it was still bleeding. When it had died, it had been messy. There had been so much blood. Point had used leaking fistfuls of it as lube, right from the cavity of the dog’s opened throat, leaving shimmering handprints on her bare skin as he had fucked her and that thing had taken its last, gurgling breaths beneath them. Bleak had never heard anybody cry like that girl was crying. 

Crowded close together on the other side of the common room, the assets had gotten really quiet, the junkie and the brown guy and the dyke. They usually wore grey — that day, it was shades of rust and ruby, splattered with blood and chunks of the dog. 

Bleak stood with his men, and he watched just as silently. He watched as the dog got cold and he watched the way the girl kept one of her small hands twisted in his bloody sweatshirt the whole time. It was hard to feel bad for her, she made it hard to feel bad for her, but it wasn’t quite sitting right, not with Bleak and not with any of the rest of them, if the tense, curdling silence was any indication. 

There was a hysteria to Point, a frantic sort of mania, a frenzied sort of cruelty. Something wasn’t right, but nobody stopped him. The girl begged for help, and none of them helped her. Silently, they watched. 

They should’ve known something was wrong when Point first cracked that girl in half in the basement, and they should’ve stopped him then, as he fucked her on top of the body of her dog.

But they didn’t.

Bleak tilted his head back to look up, up, up at the dog, standing tall so many feet above him. 

The precious weapon. The greatest achievement in the history of military weaponry. Park. 

He’d only been a kid when he got here. Looking up at him, Bleak could remember that kid but he couldn’t see that there was anything left of him in there anyway. Park stood tall above him, above where he was slumped against the concrete wall, both of kneecaps crushed. Park’s hands were bigger, probably, than dinner plates, and he had a strength that had grown more than they had anticipated, more than it was ever supposed to. Every day, he was getting more dangerous. Every day, he was getting harder to control. 

Head angled down towards Bleak, his hair was hanging in his face, long and inky, shadowing his scarred face. When he grinned, it was a flash of teeth from the shadows and Bleak had never felt the way that made him feel before, not once in his life. 

“I didn’t touch her,” he said, and his voice was coming out all shaky, trapped behind his chattering teeth. His legs hurt so bad — he didn’t think he’d ever been in so much pain before.

Park watched him closely. Fuck, he was big. “Yeah,” he said, and his voice was just as awful as the rest of him, a rumble so low it was almost distorted. “You did.” 

Bleak shook his head against the wall, trying to take a full breath in. Failing. “I didn’t,” he said. “I swear.” 

Slowly, Park angled his head. “You can keep lying,” he said. “You’re gonna die anyway.” 

“Please,” Bleak tried softly. He was thinking about his girlfriend — his fiancée. They were supposed to get married next year. What was going to be left of him to send home to her? 

“Wren begged,” Park said, and his voice had gone flat. Bleak was going to die. “Didn’t he?” 

Bleak didn’t mean to flinch, but he did. Park flashed his teeth at him again and it was unkind. 

Bleak’s last words were a series of please and stop and oh, god. 

Park was picking chunks of Bleak from his teeth and from under his fingernails for days. 

Standing in the gallery, Thread watches closely as the bonesaw cracks into the weapon’s skull once again. 

Weaver and Carver weren’t ready to give up on him yet, but he had officially been declared a hazard. He was no longer within their control. The soldiers had lost so many — Point was down over half his men, and Thread had doubts that any of them had died quickly. The weapon was made to hurt, to inflict suffering, but it was always supposed to be at their behest. He was supposed to be their strongest weapon, but he was never supposed to be stronger than them. He was out of control. 

This was a Hail Mary before he was deemed defective and they had him put down. The girl was to be removed from the unit, placed somewhere else, somewhere she couldn’t influence him, and the dog was to undergo a series of chemical lobotomies before he was released back to the unit. 

Wipe the slate clean again, Weaver described it. Cut out the cancer. 

In the dredges of the basement, locked behind armoured steel doors, the dog had started to lose his mind. 

Working the guard shift outside, Vineyard could hear the dull, rhythmic sound of him beating his head against the wall again, again, again. 

It made him smile. The captain, Point, had been gone a few weeks, furlough, and he’d missed a lot while he’d been away. Vineyard wasn’t looking forward to what he would do when he found out the girl had been transferred, but he figured the dog would lessen that blow a little bit. He was fucked up. He was getting worse every day. 

They’d tried to have him execute one of his subordinates. It was a test in obedience, and he hadn’t passed. For whatever reason, at whatever turn, there was a stubborn dredge of Park left in there, fighting to be let out. It was too much of a risk and he’d been forced into isolation. It had the desired effect. 

Every so often, inside his cage, the dog would lose it. He would start shouting, bellowing, but he hadn’t been able to speak since the lobotomies and his shouting was always unintelligible. 

Use your words, Vineyard would tell him. I can’t help you until you tell me what you want. 

He was looking forward to introducing Point to this new dog. They were waiting to start his obedience training until he came back. 

Of course, Point never came back.