A series of limericks about Tracer, because why not

I’m sure numerous articles are written

‘Bout Overwatch’s most lovable Briton.

But this one’s in verse,

Though I’ll keep it quite terse

So it doesn’t come across weird and smitten.

 

Tracer’s story begins when a technical complication

Caused her to suffer a temporal palpitation.

Her time stream had gone wonky

Until a scientist monkey

Built her an outfit for chronal regulation.

There’s simply no one to outpace her

That story’s just setup, of course.

(And full disclosure: a fan wiki’s my source)

It’s her speed on the map

That matters most in a scrap.

Hell, she’s the heart of the Overwatch force.

 

She’s not one for a slow life of leisure.

Run-and-gun is her claim to pleasure.

She blinks from here to there,

Turns back time á la Cher,

Dropping quips and bodies in equal measure.

 

She’s character-built to harass

Or to dart through defenses and trespass

Over enemy lines

And lay down some pulse mines

To be a general pain in the ass.

 

In fact that’s what I dig about Tracer.

She’s a pest, getting players to chase her

‘Round the map all distracted

While their cargo’s extracted.

There’s simply no one to outpace her.

Unless, of course, she gets caught unawares

By an ambush, or worse, one of those snares

That Junkrat can lay down.

And if a turret’s around,

Tracer hasn’t the sincerest of prayers.

 

Nevertheless, her abilities outshine

Any other favorite of mine.

And if I could control time,

I would undo this rhyme

And end with a more clever line.

 

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