After no full moons in February, March begins the cycle anew with Overwatch's Tracer being the latest addition to the pack. Tracer is a lot of fun to draw and write, with a lot of opportunity to work in her quirky personality and dynamic poses. With Overwatch's recent "year of the dog" event, Tracer seemed like a natural for this month's Moonlight Maidens picture. I am very pleased how this came out, especially the afterimages of her "blink" ability. I had a lot of fun, let me know what you think in the comments!

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Moonlight Maidens - A British Werewolf in London

In the distance, a clock chimed in its tower, its sound reverberating through the winding streets of King's Row. The bell inside the tower was a relic, an old church bell from long before the neighborhood even existed. Its deep, low clang spoke of the ages it had seen, the centuries it had weathered. As the ringing marked the hour, Tracer wondered what other secrets the bell had borne witness to. She tightened her grip around her twin pistols, blinking across the rooftops. Below, the swirls of an eerie fog twisted along the cobblestone paths, the glow of the full moon overhead casting shadows into every nook and cranny. She shuddered, her imagination filling each shadow with new horrors.
The stories that had brought Tracer back to King's Row had seemed like something out of a gothic novel. Strange beasts stalking the alleyways of London, striking in the dark of night. Tracer had felt a sense of duty towards her island home to investigate, use her unique skills to make her city a little safer. As the moon shimmered in the London sky overhead, she scanned the streets.

“They never caught Jack the Ripper, you know.” She said aloud, despite being alone “Cor, that'd be something, eh.”

Her musing was cut short when a crash of glass cut through the muffling fog. Her eyes darted upwards to a second story window, a figure wrenching backwards as another crash followed, furniture being dashed aside. Tracer leapt into action, her guns drawn in an instant. She blinked off the edge of the roof, reappearing atop a parked double-decker bus, then again on a balcony next to the struggling figure. She peered in, but the figure had vanished. Taking a deep breath, she reappeared in the window, shattered glass falling as she leapt over the broken frame. Inside the room was a large man, bent over as his body spasmed. Another figure, a woman, lay unconcious on the floor. The man's hands were covered in dark patches of hair, his clothing ripped and his general appearance disheveled. As Tracer entered the room, the man turned, his yellow, inhuman eyes fixing on the girl. His face was covered in the same dark hair as his hands, his appearance feral and menacing.

“Looks like you could use a shave.” Tracer quipped, bringing her guns up. The man bared his teeth, sharp fangs, as he growled at her threateningly “And a trip to the dentist!”

The man lunged with surprising speed. Tracer crossed the room in an instant, firing a volley of stunning pulses as she reappeared. The energy slammed into the man as he spun, eyes wild with fury. Despite being direct hits, however, the man did not fall, loping towards Tracer with renewed drive. Tracer changed tactics, dashing forward and blinking behind the figure, her inertia carrying her through as she slammed into his back. The pair fell forward, the man turning as they did to slash at the girl. His clawed hand swiped at empty air, Tracer reappearing where she had been seconds earlier, stumbling forward as she steadied herself. She flipped the power up on her pulse pistols, readying a shot to take the man down. A sudden sense of movement directly behind her caused her to try and turn, but her action was interrupted by a sharp pain in her shoulder as teeth broke through her leather jacket into her skin. She screamed in pain, wrenching free and stumbling forward, turning and raising her guns to face the new threat.

The woman, who had been unconcious on the floor moments before, regained her balance after Tracer pushed her away, a trickle of blood running down her chin. Her blonde hair looked disheveled, hanging down over her face, her expression the same look of feral hunger the man had given Tracer. The woman's ears rose to a point, her teeth sharp and glistening. She moved forward, her red dress, ripped in several places, slowing her down. Tracer stared at the woman, unsure of what to make of her. Both of her attackers seemed... off. Inhuman. In the precious seconds of contemplation, the man lashed out, grabbing her foot, pulling her down and sinking his teeth into her leg. Pain shot through Tracer's body as she struggled to remain awake. Blood rushed down her leg as the pair closed in on her. They pounced, and collided in the air as Tracer reappeared once more a few feet behind where she had been. Her leg was healed, her pants clear of blood. The two turned to attack once more, but Tracer was faster, tossing a pulse bomb into the center of the room. She ducked and rolled as the energy sent a shockwave through the room, shattering the remaining windows and raining glass onto the street below. Tracer slammed into the side of the bus, rolling for a moment as she slowed herself. She stood up after a moment, brushing herself off. The residual energy dissipated above her, the room falling silent. Cautiously, Tracer made her way to a better vantage point. Both the man and the woman were out cold, from what she could see. She wasn't feeling brave enough to get a closer look.

Tracer winced, a throbbing pain in her shoulder standing out from the ache of the rest of her body. She glanced at her jacket, noting the slight tear.

“Aw, rubbish.” she muttered. She had traveled back in time long enough to prevent most of her wounds, but in the excitement had misjudged the specifics and missed the woman's attack. It was too late now to undo it. She'd make her way to an all night chemist's, pick up some gauze and rubbing alcohol. She moved to go, but something made her stay, a strange feeling growing inside her. Her body ached all over from the fight and impact with the bus, and she decided to take a short rest, let the cold night air wash over her. Her heart was pumping, her body running hot. Her ears seemed to burn as she exhaled deeply. She needed a rest. Maybe a meal. She licked her lips, imagining a nice fish and chips at a nearby pub, the smell of it filling her nostrils. She was puzzled for an instant as her tongue brushed against the sharp edge of her canines. The pub was several blocks away, yet she could smell it as if it were across the street. Her ears twitched sounds came pouring in, overwhelming her at first. She placed her hands over her ears to muffle the noise and her breath left her instantly. She carefully ran her finger along her pointed ear in disbelief, feeling her fur bristle as she ran a glove over it. She panicked, glancing up at the full moon. She stood, entranced as a fever shot through her body. Tracer felt her hands twinge as her nails sharpened into claws, pressing at her gloves. In her boots, her feet seemed to be doing the same, the claws getting caught in her socks. She raised her hands to her face, feeling her face as it stretched out into a lupine muzzle before her eyes. Tracer felt her paws in her shoes, no longer fitting properly, the pressure becoming unbearable. With no choice, she pulled away at her shoes, shredding her pant legs with her claws as she desperately fumbled. She glanced down at the room below and began to run. She blinked forward in time, arriving in the room, skidding past her mark as her heels raised upwards. She looked down her muzzle and cursed. The jump in time had accelerated the changes, fur covering her whole body. She glanced around, looking for the couple, but discovered that they had recovered and vanished into the night. Before she could think about giving chase, an intense pressure shot through her back. Another ripping sound followed as her tail freed itself from her clothing.


Panicking, Tracer threw open a communication channel.

“Winston! C'mon Winston, pick up!” she struggled to hold the device as her transformation continued, her features becoming more and more lupine. The message seemed to go to an inbox, Winston's familiar recording playing.

“Winston! It's Lena. I'm in a bit of a sticky wicket! I... well, I think you better just come and see. And please hurry!”

Tracer closed the channel, wracking her brain to find a way to reverse the transformation, to hold back the changes until Winston could fix things. The moonlight glistened off the glass, the smell of the pub floating into her nostrils and making her stomache growl. She thought of Overwatch, her friends, of Emily, sitting in her apartment. How would she explain this to Emily. Maybe she would understand. And it wasn't all bad, it seemed. Then an idea crossed her mind, her canine muzzle curling into a smile. … the world could always use more werewolves...