Tracer sat on the top of Big Ben as she fiddled with her chronal accelerator. Below her, London's vivid night-life flew by in vibrant streams. Cars and people alike were weaving in and out the streets like millions upon billions of trillions of elections through the wirings that made up the machine called society. Autonomous and ever moving, never sleeping, constantly flowing, there was always something happening; always new to see and experience. Yet, for some reason, why was it… Why was it… that she felt so sad…?
Looking over in the direction of the Omnic District, she knew the reason.
Nothing was over there except ruins, now. It was dark and lonely; a dead circuit. An everlasting reminder that the world wasn't the place where your dreams came true. Where everyone could come together as one and, as her father always said, 'have a jolly old time passin' stories 'round the barrel'. No, it was much harsher than that. It was cruel and unforgiving.
Changing frequencies on her headset's radio, she listened in on the announcements about the Tekhartha coming to visit King's Row on his tour.
That's right, that was today, wasn't it?
It was the one thing she'd been looking forward to ever since the Omnic Crisis, since Overwatch had been disbanded. Someone who wasn't afraid to strive for a better future. To take that next step forward. Something that proved that, despite everything bad going on in the world, there were those out there who could make things right again.
It shines the brightest, bigger than anything else. Can you guess what it is, Lena…?
Oh! Oh! A… a… uh…
A hero! Lena, love, do you know what a hero is?
It's… it's… uh… a pilot…! Like you!
I wouldn't call myself a hero, not exactly…
I want to be a hero, too. Oh! Can I? Can I?!
The bullet penetrating her chronal accelerator and shredding her insides, Tracer prayed that it wouldn't pass clean through. Gritting her teeth from the pain—immeasurably, unimaginably, excruciatingly horrible—as she fell back down to Earth, watching her blood spew from the wound as time seemed to slow, she stared into the dead eyes of the would-be assassin and smiled at the unchecked disdain upon her face, hearing over the radio that the Tekhartha's bodyguards were still leading him to safety.
Her prayer, had been answered.
Closing her eyes, having denied her killer the satisfaction of taking another innocent life as, she had nary a regret. Because, after all, if there anyone was to die here, it should be the girl with nothing left, and not the man who still had so much to give.
Her father's words rushing to greet her ears as she continued to fall, Tracer felt her grip on life slipping away as the ground finally rose up to meet her.
Can you be a hero, love?
And… at the end of it all…
Why, anyone can be a hero!
Really?!
But, of course! The world could always use more heroes, love!
… she was happy.
A / N: I have no idea what this is I just wrote it on the spur of the moment.
Cover Art by Uka.