Her hands tremble. It's not something she is accustomed to, this trembling tearing feeling inside her chest. She started out cold, so cold. Cruel, calculating. The perfect killer and the perfect assassin. But that woman wormed her way inside, warmed her up until she could feel something again. Tracer. Lena Lena Lena the name ringing in her head like a mantra.

It was a game. Lena always too fast, Amelie always giving her just an extra second. And someday, this hope that someday when she felt again...

It tears at her, it rips at her, shards of glass in her heart. Her finger itches, twitches against a ghostly trigger. Warm wetness on her cheeks. A hollow agony in her chest.

Amelie's hands tremble. That some day when she felt again, that some day was now.
The splatter of blood. Bright eyes turned glassy. It played out in front of her, again and again and again.

The Widowmaker's last kill, before she went rogue.