As Tracer ran across the roofs of Numbani, she couldn't help but smile.

She'd only just re-entered the hero game, but already things were going great. She and Winston had foiled the robbery of Doomfist's gauntlet without a single civilian getting injured, yet alone killed. The gauntlet was back where it belonged, and Talon's top two enforcers were on the run.

Oh, how she'd missed this.

Reaper and Widowmaker were fast, but they were losing their lead. Winston made good use of his rocket pack, propelling himself through the air with mighty jumps. And Tracer, of course, had no trouble keeping up. Her Chronal Accelerator allowed her to zip through space-time itself. The Blink feature was invaluable for chasing down bad guys, while Recall let her undo any costly misstep mid-battle.

But it had other uses, too.

All four came to a roof above a busy street. Reaper and Widowmaker broke apart, moving in separate directions. Tracer and Winston followed suit.

Winston leapt for Reaper, shot forward by his rockets. He managed to wrap one hand around his shoulder. He slammed the hooded terrorist into the roof. "Aha! Got you!"

"Wrong, monkey," spat Reaper, his unnatural voice reverberating through his mask. His physical form began to dissolve, dissipating into ghostly vapour which slipped through Winston's hand. The dark mist snaked through the air and over the edge of the building.

Tracer was firing at Widowmaker, but the sniper was a difficult target. She gave Tracer a smirk over her shoulder. Then she jumped off the building – and threw down a mine.

Tracer stopped short, staying clear of the poisonous fumes. As the noxious cloud cleared, Widowmaker's exit strategy became obvious.

A Talon aircraft – black, sleek, disturbingly silent – rose slowly into view. Widowmaker had used her grapple to reach it, and now stood inside, at an open hatch at the rear. Reaper materialised beside her, and both of them watched Tracer with disdain.

A crowd watched from the street below – among them, a news team. A journalist stood ready, clutching a notebook, while her trusty cameraman kept his lens intently trained on the action. Recording technology was very refined. Even from ground level, they'd be able to pick up every word.

Tracer knew her snappy, heroic one-liner had to be good.

"A noble effort, ma chère," smirked Widowmaker, "but we part ways here."

"Maybe," said Tracer with a triumphant smile, "but...!"

Everyone waited for the rest of the sentence to materialise. Including Tracer.

It didn't.

After a few seconds, Widowmaker and Reaper shared a look. Widowmaker pressed a button and the hatch closed.

"No, no, wait!" The jet was already speeding away. Tracer reached a hand out, as though the warplane would notice and politely turn around.

"Something the matter?" said Winston, moving toward her.

"Drew a blank, that's all," muttered Tracer. "Guess I just lost focus... but don't worry! It's easily remedied!"

"Um... what?"

Tracer activated the Recall feature of her Chronal Accelerator, and

"A noble effort, ma chère," smirked Widowmaker, "but we part ways here."

"You Talon lot will never beat us!" said Tracer. "No matter what you do, Overwatch will always be streets ahead!"

Widowmaker blinked. "What?"

"Y'know! 'Streets ahead'! It's a saying!"

"That's not a thing," said Reaper.

"Sure it is!" Tracer turned to Winston. "That's a phrase, right?"

"I have never heard that before in my life," he said. "...Sorry."

Tracer folded her arms in a huff. "It's not my fault if you're all streets behind."

"Stop that!" snapped Widowmaker.

Tracer sighed and

"A noble effort, ma chère," smirked Widowmaker, "but we part ways here."

"Run and hide!" shouted Tracer. "Pretty soon, Overwatch will catch up – and the two of you will be put on permanent time out!"

Widowmaker rolled her eyes. Tracer wasn't entirely sure, but it sounded like Reaper sighed. The hatch slammed close and the aircraft's engines flared.

As the jet shot away, Winston came up behind her. "Tracer, there may be a way to cut off their escape. However, the plan –" He noticed she was frowning. "Is something the matter?"

"I'm okay. It's just..." She shifted on her feet a little. "That comeback wasn't great, was it?"

He looked at her uncertainly. "It was fine."

"Yeah, exactly. It was fine. It worked. Nothing special. I use the 'time out' line an awful lot..." She smiled. "I'm gonna give it another go, just in case."

"'Another'...?" Winston tensed. "Tracer, are you misusing the Chronal Accelerator?! That could have serious ramifications for

"A noble effort, ma chère," smirked Widowmaker, "but we part ways here."

"Maybe!" yelled Tracer. "But I'm gonna see a lot more of you tonight!"

Tracer felt her face flushing.

That came out wrong.

"B-because I'll have tracked you down...!" she stammered, but it was too late to backpedal. Winston blinked, taken aback. The journalist was scribbling wildly, as though she had been hungrily waiting for this moment for months.

Widowmaker's face was frozen on an expression Tracer didn't quite understand, but a primary factor was surprise. There was definitely a lot of surprise in there.

"Knew it," Reaper muttered.

"A noble effort, ma chère," smirked Widowmaker, "but we part ways here."

Tracer was beginning to feel frustrated – a frustration no-one else would even know existed. Without fully considering it, she thought of a comeback and threw it out.

"Oh yeah?! Well at least I," declared Tracer proudly, "never murdered my husband!"

There was a terrible silence.

"Oh god," thought Tracer, far too late.

Winston stared at her in shock. "Lena! Why would you... that's entirely uncalled for!"

"Yeah, lady," said Reaper. "Show some tact. Jesus." He turned to Widowmaker, laying a hand on her shoulder. "Are you okay?"

Widowmaker was blinking a lot. She sighed angrily. "I'm fine. I'm fine! Let's... let's just get going, and head for –" and without warning she opened fire.

Tracer yelped and ran for cover and quickly activated the

"A noble effort, ma chère," smirked Widowmaker, "but we part ways here."

Simple but effective, Tracer told herself. Simple, but effective.

"We won today, love," declared Tracer, "and we'll win tomorrow. Overswatch is back."

Widowmaker raised an eyebrow. "... Over-swatch?"

Tracer blinked.

Then she threw her guns on the ground and jumped up and down, yelling in rage.

"Dammit! Dammit, dammit, dammit!" She blew a strand of hair out of her face.. "... Bollocks."

Reaper cleared his throat and

"A noble effort, ma chère," smirked Widowmaker, "but we part ways here."

"We won today, love," declared Tracer, with perfect diction, "and we'll win tomorrow. Overwatch is back!"

Widowmaker glared at her, but said nothing. The hatch slammed shut and the aircraft's engines flared. The crowd below was mostly quiet, but over the roar of the plane Tracer could make out at least one person cheering. She grinned ear to ear.

As the jet shot away, Winston came up behind her. "Tracer, there may be a way to cut off their escape. However, the plan would impose a considerable burden on your Chronal Accelerator. Do you want to risk it?"

Tracer glanced down. "You know me, love, always a fan of risky plays, but... um, I dunno. It looks like it's a bit low on battery, actually."

"It is?" Winston frowned. "That's odd. I was sure we had filled its energy reserves to maximum just before we left..."

"Don't worry about it!" said Tracer quickly. "I mean, the important thing is we stopped them, and no-one got hurt. We can track them down later."

Winston nodded. "Indeed. Excellent work out there."

"You too!"

Winston smiled, adjusting his glasses. "I must admit, I've always been somewhat jealous of your wit. I never quite mastered the art of the dramatic quip – all too often I stumble over my words, or just draw a blank. But you always know just what to say!"

"Just a matter of practice, love," said Tracer, forcing a smile. "Just a matter of practice..."