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Widowmaker moved gracefully through the moonlit garden, her rifle cradled as the scent of jasmine masked the faint rustle of footsteps around her. A split-second too late, she felt the sting of a tranquilizer dart; her vision blurred as Talon’s enemies emerged from the foliage, binding her hands in unbreakable restraints. As consciousness faded, she cursed herself for the rare mistake, her last thought a cold vow of vengeance.

But will she be against the “special” treatment towards her?

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