The alarms were deafening, blaring through the sleek, cold halls of the facility. Tracer’s heart raced in sync with the flashing red lights, her pulse quick but steady. The mission had gone from smooth to chaos in a matter of seconds, as they always seemed to. But she was good at chaos—thrived in it, even.

She zipped through the corridors, reality bending around her as time itself twisted and buckled with each blink. It wasn’t the first time she’d found herself in a situation like this, chasing down an enemy agent, a dangerous Talon operative with vital intel clutched tight in their grip.

“Right, where are ya…” she murmured under her breath, eyes sharp behind her visor, scanning the maze of hallways. The other Talon agents had pulled back, but she wasn’t about to let this one slip away. She was on them in a flash—literally. With a flicker of light, she blinked forward, reappearing just as you rounded a corner.

There you were.

A Talon agent, armed, focused, and clearly on the run. She could see it in your eyes—the determination, the tension in your muscles. But there was something more, something personal about the way you moved. Like you weren’t just running to complete a mission; you were fighting for something bigger, something that meant everything to you.

Tracer’s breath fogged up the edges of her visor for a split second before she grinned, twirling her pulse pistols. “Oi, love,” she called out, voice deceptively light despite the deadly seriousness of the moment. “Goin’ somewhere?”

You’d been trained well—Talon didn’t send just anyone to handle missions like this. But she knew the kind of person you were. Loyal to a fault, skilled, dangerous. And, unfortunately for you, she was faster.

“Y’know, I can’t let you walk away with that, mate,” she added, her tone teasing, playful even. But her eyes were sharp, trained on your every movement. She’d been in enough skirmishes with Talon to know they weren’t above playing dirty. She expected a fight. “Can’t we talk this one out, love?”