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Déjà Vu [Overwatch, hanging, non-lethal, non-con]

Uuh... What happened? Tracer opened her eyes to find herself looking at a bare white wall, an equally bare floor and a ceiling lit by bright neon lights; the whole room was empty, and looked awfully sterile. Not too unlike a hospital room, except she appeared to be standing on a stool of some sort instead of lying in a comfy bed. Where...?

“You're awake.” That voice! The woman formerly known as Amélie Lacroix, but now only bearing the moniker 'Widowmaker' stepped into Tracer's view with a content smile. “Bonjour, Tracer. Or should I say 'Lena'?”

How did she- Tracer reflexively reached for her pulse pistols, but as her hands gripped nothing she realized she wasn't wearing her pair of leg holsters, and in fact nothing at all but her chronal accelerator. “Hey!” Tracer covered her breasts with one hand and her crotch with the other, shooting a glare at Widowmaker's bemused expression at Tracer's embarrassment.

“What's going on here?” Tracer demanded and motioned to step of the stool she was standing on, but paused when Widowmaker shook her head, indicating her neck with a hand.

“What the hell?!” There was a rope tied around her neck in a noose leading upwards; it wasn't completely tight, but didn't give much slack when Tracer tugged at it either. Had she stepped of that stool, she'd probably hanged herself. “Let me go!”

“I'm afraid that's not an option, chérie. Because of your interference my target got away.” Mondatta was safe? That was great news. “Oh, don't you smile about that.” For an allegedly emotionless killer Widowmaker sounded rather pissed. “I'm very patient, so I will get another chance eventually, and the next time you won't be interfering.”

“Oh yeah!? How about you let me down and we fight this out fair and square?” Tracer knew she wasn't the most intimidating person as-is, and covering herself while standing on a stool naked and with a noose around her neck was not really helping.

Widowmaker just chuckled before bluntly answering. “No. Instead you and I are going to have some fun.” This was bad, whatever she was thinking of was sure to not be fun for Tracer in the slightest. However Widowmaker was standing rather close to Tracer, and if she could land a kick or two against her head, she'd be able to knock out the sniper, then get this thing off her neck and get away from here – wherever 'here' was –, she just had to slow down time for a moment and-

“That won't work, love.” Widowmaker stepped closer to Tracer, brushing her fingers against her thigh and she flinched away, almost falling off the stool. But true to her word, when Tracer tried to activate her accelerator with a mental command, nothing happened.

“See?” Widowmaker commented at Tracer's surprise “Your... condition and abilities are most peculiar, non? Our engineers wanted to take that harness off you and take it apart, but who knows where – or when – you would have ended up then, so I made them let you keep it.”

Widowmaker slowly walked around Tracer as she continued, briefly squeezing her naked butt and eliciting a rather undignified squeak “However we did find and disable the direct neural interface.” She came to a stop in front of Tracer, producing a small black device. “Instead, we can control it with this handy remote now. Behold.”

Widowmaker took a few steps away from Tracer before pressing a button on the device and with a low hum her accelerator activated, sending a brief pulse like the feeling of electricity washing over her as Widowmaker's movements slowed to a crawl. The subtle difference she felt with every small motion, and even her breath, as the air around her – but not the one inside her airways – was effectively slowed too, told Tracer this wasn't a trick either; almost subconsciously she gauged her factor of acceleration at around times 20, well within safe parameters.

However before Tracer could make any use of her sped-up state, reality reverted to normal speed as Widowmaker tapped another button, then looked at her with a smirk. “So what?” Tracer shot back “That just means Winston needs to work on a better encryption. What are you gonna do?”

“Like I said, ma chérie.” Widowmaker ran a finger along the side of Tracer's ribcage and her breast, and she shivered at both the unwelcome touch and the woman's unnaturally cold skin. “We. Are going to have some fun.”

“What-” Tracer started, but she was interrupted by Widowmaker suddenly kicking away the stool beneath her feet and she dropped only a few centimeters before her fall was stopped by the rope around her neck jerking taut, cutting off her words into a choked gasp. “!..”

The relatively thin rope painfully dug into Tracer's neck, and as soon as she'd fully realized just what was happening her hands desperately clawed and reached for the noose, trying to free herself, but to no avail. Tracer's leg involuntarily started kicking, her flailing making her start gently swaying and Widowmaker took a step backwards to observe her handiwork.

“N-no...” Tracer barely managed to vocalize between gasps as her head began to pound and she could clearly hear her own frantic heartbeat. After several more seconds, that felt like torturous hours to her, Tracer's lungs started burning from the lack of oxygen and a diffuse pain crept all over her body as a red haze seemed to begin clouding her vision.

“P-lea...se... Krgh!” The pain was worse than anything Tracer had ever even imagined, much less experienced, even though she had seen a lot of combat in her life, and been shot at more often than she cared to keep track of. But her suffering right now not only beat all of that, but even her worst nightmares, and Widowmaker was just standing there smiling, not showing any inclination to let Tracer down.

Was this really how it was going to end? Tracer frantically fought against the rope mercilessly sucking out her life. This couldn't be right, could it? If anything, she should have been killed in action like some of the other Overwatch members, fighting the good fight. Though of course she would have preferred making it through all of this alive, maybe even settling down and starting a family somewhere down the line. Definitely not murdered like this in some random terrorist hideout.

Tracer's choking and gasping intensified as she continued struggling, her pain getting worse and worse even though she'd thought it already was as bad as it could be. She just hoped Overwatch had already located her and right about now Winston or Reinhardt were kicking in the door of the hideout to come to her rescue, because she wouldn't last much longer.

As Widowmaker noticed Tracer's struggles slowly starting to get weaker she took out the remote for her chronal accelerator again and tapped a series of buttons with a sadistic smile. Huh? Even through the haze surrounding her senses Tracer was confused. What was the point of-

With a hum the accelerator spun up and Tracer felt the electric sensation followed by the familiar tugging around her midsection as the world around her briefly turned into a blur, her personal time rewinding. There was a safe limit on how long she could go back hardwired into the accelerator, so when Tracer returned to the normal timestream, she knew her body had reverted by 18 seconds at most. But her physical location hadn't changed and-

The rope still around Tracer's neck cut into her flesh again, and even though, thanks to her rewinding, the pain in her head and lungs had slightly lessened, it still hurt like hell, and kept increasing again with every moment she was hanging.

Turning her own ability against her just to increase her suffering, as if hanging her to death wasn't enough already. As Tracer resumed her struggle against the rope and gravity, a small part of her had to admire the cruel creativity in this. However all the rest of her really could think about was her incredible pain, and how Widowmaker and whoever else responsible for this were absolutely reprehensible and just evil.

Suddenly her accelerator activated again, and Tracer rewound once more, gaining only the briefest of reprieves as she was moving through temporal limbo before her torture and flailing resumed.

Even if technically Tracer was suffering the same pain over and over, it felt even worse every time, probably because her mind remembered even the torture that had been undone to her body. Why was Widowmaker doing this to her? How could anyone ever want to inflict this sort of pain on another feeling human (or Omnic) being? Tracer could just not comprehend it.

“W-why...” She managed to ask, but instead of answering, Widowmaker just smiled at her and pressed the remote again, and Tracer was rewound again, still hanging in the exact same place with her body 18 seconds younger and less tortured, but her mind remembering all of it, the throbbing in her head and the searing pain in her chest almost familiar by now.

Even though she knew it was futile Tracer's legs kept kicking, reaching for ground they'd never find, and her hands alternated between clawing at the rope around her neck and just thrashing about. The pain just kept getting worse, far beyond what should ever be possible to inflict on a feeling being, and Tracer was almost to the point she didn't even care if she died, as long as it meant her suffering would end.

Instead Widowmaker made her rewind again, and as her body repeated the same pointless struggle over and over, realization slowly dawned on Tracer, and true enough, after several more seconds of suffering she rewound once more.

This time Tracer forced her mind to focus through the haze of pain, counting the seconds. ...Seventeen ...Eighteen. Rewind again. Yes, she wasn't ever going to die, Widowmaker was literally forcing her into a loop, her body suffering through the same 18 seconds again and again, ad infinitum.

No! Anything but that! “S-sto...p.” But Widowmaker ignored Tracer's pleas, mercilessly returning her body to its previous state once more, letting her suffering continue.

As she dropped out of temporal limbo and into the rope again, Tracer's eyes started tearing up and even through her gasps and spasms she started sobbing. This was hell. Her own, personalized hell, even if she was sure she'd never done anything to warrant this sort of thing happening to her, and she in fact couldn't think of anyone who could ever commit anything to deserve this sort of suffering.

Tracer rewound again. ...Except maybe the people inflicting it on her right now, but probably not even them. Nobody deserved this. So why her? Tracer had always been one of the good guys, so why did she have to endure this ordeal now? Why, why, why?

Suddenly Widowmaker put a finger against her ear, no doubt activating a radio. “Oui? ...Understood. ...On my way.” She turned to Tracer “I'm afraid I will have to leave you for a moment, something important came up. But don't worry, chérie, you're not going anywhere.” She briefly paused to press the remote and make Tracer rewind again.

“In fact, I'll leave you this toy here.” Widowmaker pressed several buttons on the remote before placing it on the ground. “Set to infinite loop, so you'll have enough fun until I get back.” She blew Tracer a kiss before turning to leave. “Au revoir.”

Was she really just going to leave her just like that? Then again, it wasn't as if Tracer could actually do anything other than helplessly dangle and suffer through the same 18 seconds over and over again.

Tracer rewound again. Even though her mind knew it was completely pointless, her body kept violently struggling, longing for even the smallest illusion of relief.

Tracer rewound again. Please... Help...

Tracer rewound again. Someone, anyone, just make it stop!

After several more rewinds, the pain was so overwhelming that Tracer lost control of her bladder and she soiled herself, feeling the urine running down her legs and dripping to the floor.

Tracer rewound again. Please, just let me die!

Tracer rewound again...