Tracer on the case

Cases of missing persons weren’t normally Overwatch’s territory and were best left to the police to solve unless there were especially suspicious circumstances. Similarly, when those people thought vanished soon reappear it would usually mark a case closed. But when those kinds of vanish-then-reappear cases starts to happen more than once? A few times? That’s when rumors start to be whispered on the streets.

Rumors that women – specifically attractive and often curvaceous ones – had suddenly vanished for no reason, in very uncharacteristic fashion. About a day or so later they would reappear. No damage done, no signs of **** or restraint or any harm done physically or mentally. As if nothing had happened at all. However, in these cases the women who reappeared soon acted in suspicious and very sudden ways. Quitting day jobs, dropping out of education, breaking off relationships – including marriage. Moving out of their last known place of residence without any warning to family or friends, and leaving no clue about where they would be heading to or living next. Indeed, it seems they had reappeared only to vanish again. Only leaving at most a basic note saying various versions of a farewell letter. No connecting details to link one another… that is, apart from this club. According to police intel, just about everyone who disappeared had at least been seen near this location.

Most normal rank-and-file police officers would just file that away, and act if any new evidence came forward. Lena Oxton was far from normal.

Despite being warned by some of her colleagues that this was a fool’s errand and that their efforts should be focused on the likes of Talon and other criminal organizations, Tracer was persistent, and that persistence led her here to Cloud Nine, a ‘gentlemen’s club’. A club owned by one person. One ‘S. Kingmen’. Not a name that was popping up on any criminal records, but also on any public ones either. Suspiciousness in itself.

There was a flash of light and Tracer was displaced onto the rooftop of Cloud Nine. She touched down silently with boots on the ground. The glow of the Chronal Accelerator that slipped between her more-than-ample chest dimmed. Her body was clad in a yellow and orange bodysuit that hugged her figure and flaunted her hips and rear.

There didn’t appear to be any CCTV cameras around the rooftop, and no guards up here either. However, approaching a skylight that looked down on the inside of the building, she noticed quite heavy-duty reinforcements of the glass, the hinges and especially the electronic lock on it. Sophisticated and certainly expensive looking – very out of place for what seemed on the outside to be just a run of the mill nightclub. Not a problem for her, though. A confident smirk crossed her lips as she took out a small device. It was a nifty little thing that Winston cooked up and its screen lit up as she applied it to the lock. A couple of presses on it and she watched codes scroll across the screen as the hacking machine did its job…

A message colored green and reading ‘SUCCESS’ was followed by the click of bolts unlocking. Stashing the device away, she carefully opened up the skylight and silently dropped down into the office of S. Kingmen. It was a richly furnished room, but without the lights on, Tracer couldn’t make out much other than the heavy wooden desk and leather seat. A sophisticated looking computer sat upon the desk and Tracer quietly approached it. If she could she what was on it, then maybe it could her an understanding of what was behind these disappearances…

The lights snapped on, and in turn, Tracer snapped out of her thoughts. “You lost, girl?” A deep, amused sounding voice asked as Lena turned toward the door as a man stepped forward. Unarmed, but from the cocky smirk on his face he was obviously the owner of the office and the building as a whole. S. Kingmen.

She couldn’t say that she recognized the man, but he was built like a tank. Muscular and tall, and with pearly white teeth that were a perfect fit for his handsome face. Complimented by what appeared to be a lavish, custom-tailored suit. Even his cufflinks shined gold. There was already an aura about this man that screamed confidence in himself, no doubt verging far off the edge of arrogance. There was something dangerous about this man. He seemed to be able to handle himself in a fight from the looks of him. Speaking of looks, the man was looking over her still with that amused smirk. Eyeing her up in fact. Rather like how a hungry wolf eyes up a doe.

“S. Kingmen, I take it?” Tracer responded calmly as the man approached the desk. He nodded, that damnable smile still on his face. “Don’t suppose you feel like answering a few questions about disappearing women, do ya, luv?” Missing women who return and vanish again? All the ‘victims’ being attractive women? Leading to a nightclub like Cloud Nine? Pieces were falling into place.

“That sounds awfully like an accusation there…” Kingmen chuckled, unfazed by her words. “Considering the famous Tracer has just broken into my office? Looks like you’re committing an offense right here. I though heroines like you were supposed to be the good girls…” He chuckled again. “Not just common thieves.”

“For one, I haven’t stolen anything here…” She pointed out, trying to remain as composed as she thought she should be. “And two? There’s something going on here…”

“Another foundless accusation Tracer, but you know something? Maybe we’ve just gotten on the wrong foot here. It seems you have questions about the… business that I run.” He smirked, knowingly. A sign that indeed there was something going here just as she’d thought. “How ‘bout a compromise? I won’t press charges and you can ask any question you want?” He offered, still smirking as confidently as ever.

Tracer resisted the urge to grit her teeth. As much as it sickened her to admit it, this man and his big smile had a valid point. In terms of ****, he had her. It would damage not just the case, but Overwatch’s still recovering reputation to be carted off by the cops. At the same time, she didn’t trust this man with clear secrets and an agenda one bit. There was something going on, but she had no idea what. Crucially, no evidence of any wrongdoing either…

With great ****, she took her hands away from her guns. “Don’t expect me to hand over any of my gear and weapons…” she warned, admitting defeat in a way as she made her choice obvious.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” He replied, looking like the cat that caught the canary.