[⚠︎] ▼ 𝙵𝚛𝚎𝚗𝚌𝚑 𝙱𝚒𝚝𝚎 ▲ Miguel O'Hara x Reader▼ 𝚋𝚘𝚘𝚔 𝟷/ 𝟸

▸ ONE ◂

"Cible repérée," you murmur into your earpiece, the sniper rifle steady in your hands as you track her movements. (Target detected)

"Copy. Maintain position," your commanding officer replies.

You've been tailing her for weeks now, always one step behind. She's been an annoying obstacle to your organization's plans due to her time-warping abilities that turns your missions into chaos. Through your scope, you watch her aid civilians and direct officers at a nearby crime scene.

She's a so-called hero, known for her time-traveling abilities. Thanks to the chronal accelerator on her chest, she can manipulate time—speeding it up or slowing it down at will. This power has made her a particularly elusive target. (Tracer ref ahaha)

"I can take her down right as we speak. Une balle, un mort." You mutter quietly, applying some pressure on the trigger. "You know I never miss." (One bullet, one death)

"Standby. Escape helicopter is en route," your commanding officer adds.

You roll your eyes. "Why? I do not need it."

"Protocol," he snaps. "Stick to it."

Your response dies in your throat as the target suddenly vanishes from view.

"Damn," you mutter, rising to your feet and leaping to a nearby rooftop.

"What is it now? " He growls.

Activating your spider goggles, you scan the area with your heart racing. She was just there!

"Madame Web," A chipper, yet spiteful voice hisses behind you. "Looking for me?"

You whirl around to find her standing mere feet away, her pistols at her sides.

"Ah," you say smoothly, "we meet again."

She glares at you, "What are you here for now? Sparking up trouble again, are you?"

Everything about you two is oppositional. She's short and sprightly, while you're tall and poised. Her hair is cropped short, contrasting with your long, dark locks. Her demeanor is loud and chirpy, while yours is seductive and eerie.

"Of course not," you remain nonchalant, "I was just about to leave."

She scoffs, "I don't think so."

"What's happening?" He demands from your earpiece.

Without breaking eye contact, you press the comms mic in your ear. "I am engaged with the target," you say, your voice steady despite the pounding in your chest.

"(Y/N)! " his panicked voice crackles through the earpiece, but you mute the channel before he becomes a distraction. The mission is clear: eliminate her.

Your boots scrape against the gritty rooftop as you take off running. Behind you, the sound of her rapid footsteps echoes like a drumbeat. The chase begins, and she's relentless, hot on your heels as you leap from building to building. The cold night air bites at your face, but you focus on the path ahead.

"Stop this madness and turn yourself in!" she shouts, her voice sharp with desperation and anger. "You know you're in the wrong here!"

You glance back, just enough to see her gaining on you. Your jaw tightens as you fire back a retort. "We are not the bad guys. We know the truth, tu ne vois pas? " (Don't you see?)

For a moment, her pace falters, as if your words hit a nerve, but the silence doesn't last. With a sudden motion, she draws her dual pistols and fires. The sharp crack of gunfire causes your heart to spike, and you feel your stomach drop as one of her shots severs your grappling line.