Work Header

Kiss Kiss; Kill Kill

Chapter Text


1: Contact

The initial meeting of any dark mysterious entity was always nerve wracking, even for someone as experienced in enigmatic meetings as Sombra was. Especially if you had something very much at stake. But still, Sombra felt she had dealt deals with worse people than Talon. Talon had a code at least. Big organizations had to have one if they wanted to get anywhere, get anything done. Individuals were always worse - so unpredictable. Sombra chuckled into her solo cup, the flashing lights in the arena lighting up her ultraviolet tattoos. This time, she was the individual and the organization was at her mercy. At the same, it was a big night that could have big consequences.

Up until recently most of her deals had been at the behest of Los Muertos. Why else would they keep her or anyone around? You always had to pay your dues to the big boss. But Sombra was tired of taking orders. At least from lowlifes like the members of the gang. Hell, a group of them had shit their pants when they encountered the old man “Soldier: 76” or as she quickly found out, Jack Morrison (what? Like it’s hard finding out the identity of an ex-super soldier?). If so many of her comrades were pussies about a senior citizen, then she was out. Also for the fact that Los Muertos couldn’t help and didn’t care that her spine was starting to decay.

So now she stood in an old airplane hanger that had been converted into the underbelly of Dorado’s more colorful class of people to party. Heavy trap and dubstep mixes beat through the ratty old speakers hanging from the ceiling, the crowd bounced up and down, bound by an ancient instinct to move together. Sombra pushed through the crowd, swiping some pork rinds from an unattended bag, and swallowed the rest of her coke to wash it down (no alcohol tonight - she needed a clear head). She glanced down at her wrist-embedded digital watch as she continued to slip between people unnoticed. Her green tattoos pulsed to the beat of the music, as if breathing. She had to meet the contact in one minute on the other side of the hanger.

Dropping her empty cup to get trampled on the littered floor, she double checked her standings on the betting boards. She was here to work, but who said play couldn’t be involved? Illegal omnic fights were always easy money, especially when 9 times out of 10 the omnics in question had very poor and questionable security protocols. She always bet on the underdog - better money that way, and then she would slide through the back door, unbeknownst to the omnic she wanted to lose and a few quick adjustments - voila she had the match play out to her liking. She wouldn’t allow herself to win more than 5 matches however, because if all the lower tier omnics suddenly won - well then the Los Muertos’ rival gang Colmillos Rojos (who ran the matches and made so much money oh my god why hadn’t she joined that gang?) would definitely beef up their security and look towards Los Muertos for the hacks. Which they wouldn’t be wrong. But she didn’t need that kind of heat, especially right now.

No, right now she had to stay as cool as possible.

Just as she reached the edge of the opposite side of the arena, the crowd let out a collective “OOoooh…” and a gloved hand grabbed her shoulder.

Smiling to herself she let the hand push her away from the throng of people. “Hola a ti también,” Sombra said as they jostled out of the hanger.

The stranger was silent.

“So I’ll just be going along with you then?” Sombra asked in English, her accent thick. She hadn’t spoken much English in a couple of years out loud. The man continued to ignore her as they stepped out into the warm night.

“So professional,” Sombra quipped. “Not even looking at the goods. How do you know I am who I say I am?” She coyly pressed her arm into her books, pushing it up, accentuating her cleavage, and gave him the side eye. Still nothing, his dark glasses flashing with the street lights passing above them. Sombra relaxed her arm. No fun. “I’ll make sure to fill out a customer satisfaction survey. Add you were… very stoic, but not very satisfying….” Sombra teetered off as they approached a parked limousine, the windows tinted black. The man opened the door and shoved her roughly inside, her head smacking the door frame.

“Hey! Even cops have better manners than you, cabrón!” Sombra yelled out the door, but it slammed closed as a response. Scowling, Sombra settled back into the cushioned seat. But hey, if Talon let her ride in this kind of luxury, they already had a deal. She was far from a simple girl, but Sombra had simple needs. Especially because she slept on a canvas cot most nights, and that was wearing thin.

It was dark in the limo but she appeared to be alone. Her tattoos flickered on, casting an eerie green glow in the dark. The limo turned on and the quiet rumble of the engine alerted her that they were moving to a different location.

Very secretive these Talon people.

She couldn’t see out of the windows and there seemed to a location blocker in the car because she couldn’t get a read on her watch. She could easily get through that wall but she had to make a good impression. At least for now.

After about 30 minutes, the limo slowed, and Sombra was jerked from her reverie, and she sat up straight as the car finally stopped. The door opened and another gloved hand reached for her. Oh, so Talon had some real gentlemen in it. She stepped out to find herself in the middle of a clearing in the jungle, the road leading to it nothing but dirt. In the middle of the clearing was a helicopter, the blades already starting up their whirring.

Sombra’s mohawk whipped in her face as she was led to the helicopter that was surrounded by armed guards. Alright, this seemed like overkill - she wasn’t even armed! Her nerves were starting to jump, her spine heating up as her machinery buzzed to life (that would hurt like a bitch later). She could see a shadowy figure sitting in the back of the helicopter.

She was given a headset and then just as she stepped up into the helicopter it started its lift off. Sombra quickly sat and strapped herself in to the seat. The shadowy figure leaned forward so she could see the gaunt white face and ginger hair of -

“Moira  O'Deorain?” Sombra said into the mic that wrapped around her face, the foam pressing into her lips.

“Ah, so you already know who I am,” The woman said, a smirk curling her lips, pulling at the sleeve of her dark suit, her long legs crossed.

You’re my contact?” Sombra wasn’t surprised often but here she was, 100 feet off the ground, sitting across from the notorious scientist that helped with the downfall of Overwatch.

“Well,” Moira shrugged, pushing her mic closer to her mouth. “Not exactly, but I took over when I learned who we were making a deal with.” Sombra shifted nervously, looking out the open sides of the helicopter. The jungle was dark below them, to her right she could see the glint of the moon over the ocean. “So we are here to discuss a transaction for my services.”

Sombra turned her gaze back to Moira. “But… why a helicopter?” She couldn’t help but ask.

“So that way if it doesn’t work out, I can simply push  you out and we’d not hear a single thing from you again,” Moira said matter factly. Sombra didn’t move. Moira chuckled darkly. “I don’t believe it will come to that. I’ve read of your… predicament.” Sombra wasn’t comforted one bit. So Talon was a little… more unpredictable than she thought. Mierda.

“Onto business,” Moira said, pulling up a screen between them. “As you know, Talon is willing to make a deal with you for a few things in return. Firstly, the drive. Secondly, an upgrade on our cyber security.”

“That was some easy shit to get through,” Sombra scoffed, but then silenced herself quickly. Open helicopter, gotta remember.

Moira looked at her for a long moment and then continued. “Yes, well, we at Talon do not want a recurrence of that, and would rather you were with us rather than against us.” An interesting turn of phrase, almost sounds like Sombra had the upper hand, which about 10 minutes ago she did have the upper hand, the hand in question was a small usb tucked into her jacket pocket. “And since you did grab all our agents files and then subsequently deleted everything we had on file - including our backups…. We are willing to… comply with your demands.” Moira pulled up a window on the screen - it looked like a contract.

“If you agree to those terms, you will get the procedure you require.”

“I could sell this and probably get more money,” Sombra said. “Get the procedure done elsewhere. What’s stopping me?”

“Your life,” Moira shrugged. “And not have an international agency after you.”

“You make a compelling argument.”

“So we have a deal?”

“Hah!” Sombra laughed. She glanced over the edge again. “Not yet.”

Moira leaned back, and Sombra noticed the grotesque purple veins winding up Moira’s right arm. Okay… what had she gotten herself into? She’d heard the horror stories about Moira O’Deorain, but up until this very moment she thought they were just that - stories, conspiracy theories. Now, she was wondering if they were a bit more than that.

“You’ll do the surgery,” Sombra didn’t feel like she was really in the position to bargain but if she was gonna get thrown out of a helicopter than why not try.

“Hmm,” Moira didn’t seem super pleased with that. Maybe Sombra pushed it. “I don’t particularly want to waste my time with that, and we have many qualified surgeons at our disposal.”

“Well then,” Sombra’s hands were shaking. She gripped her knees trying to steady them. “I guess I’ll voluntarily jump.” She looked over the edge again and swallowed. “You won’t find my body before the animals do, and the drive will be gone.”
Moira actually looked pissed by this statement. “You’re being dramatic. But fine, I will supervise the surgery.”

“Ah-” Sombra wanted to correct her.

“I will not perform it simply because I’m not going to get my hands dirty with your blood. That will have to do. Also by the fact that I’m a scientist - not a medical doctor ready to correct botched surgeries at any time.”

Sombra looked at her, trying to read anything beyond annoyed. “Fine.”

“Now, will you sign the agreement?” Moira sighed, gesturing at the screen with a flick of her wrist. Sombra eyed her and then looked to the contract.

“You know I’ll want to read this first,” Sombra said. “Looks like you’ve got a couple of… cláusulas.

Moira’s eyes flashed dangerously, but then her features softened ever so slightly as she chuckled into the mic. “Fine, I shouldn't have assumed you were an idiot. We’ll reconvene tomorrow on this arrangement.” Sombra relaxed for the first time that night, but only a little. They were still flying over the jungle at 2 AM to a unknown location.

“So now what?”

“Now,” Moira looked out, over the landscape. “I’m taking you to the base.”

Sombra fingered the flashdrive in her pocket, her tattoos lighting up the interior of the helicopter. Everything was going smoothly (so far), and Moira would never be the wiser that Sombra had already made several copies of that list all hidden in different locations.


About 30 minutes later (while Moira did nothing but scan through a private screen, not even giving another glance at Sombra) the helicopter landed near a building all too familiar to Sombra.

“LumériCo?” Sombra whispered under her breath. While she knew LumériCo was up to some shady shit, she didn’t really put together the reaches of Talon.

“Yes, well, we can’t just build new buildings in every country,” Moira said carelessly. “LumériCo happens to be an ally.”

“A champion of the cause?” Sombra started to unbuckle her seat belt as the helicopter’s blades whirred to a stop.

“In so few words,” Moira said, stepping down from the helicopter. Sombra hopped after her and immediately regretted the short fall - her back spasmed and her knees buckled so she had to reach for the door frame of the helicopter. Moira turned to her and raised an eyebrow. Sombra forced herself to straighten despite her muscles screaming and tightening around the tech in her spine. She grinned at Moira.

“You can see I’m serious about this deal,” Sombra tried to joke, pushing her now limp mohawk out of her face. Moira didn’t respond as she turned and walked towards the entrance of the imposing neon-lit stepped pyramid.

As the entered, three security officers started to follow them, their eyes shaded by red-tinted glasses. Sombra gave them a wary look and turned up her pace, trying to keep up with the long-legged Moira. Moira entered an elevator, and Sombra tried to follow her but was stopped by a hand on her shoulder.

“I’m afraid you’re going down,” Moira said. “I will see you when you’ve made your decision.”

And the doors shut between them.

Sombra stood, staring at the elevator doors as the three security guards crowded around her, and her hackles raised on her neck. The next set of elevator doors opened with a ding and she was hustled into the industrial box. One of the guards punched the level called B4. This place was huge. The few minutes of silence felt sticky with anxiety as Sombra watched the floor levels flicker downwards into the probable depths of xibalba. Finally the doors opened, and she taken down the hallway with LED lighting only highlighting the garage-like feeling of the basement levels. After turning a corner, Sombra knew what was happening.

The hallway was a series of doors, each with a panel of safety glass installed. No other markings indicate what these rooms were for so she could only assume. And her assumption was right. About midway down the hallway, one of the guards opened a cell door and she was shoved inside.

“Hey! Wait!” She yelled, spinning around, but the door was already slamming shut with a hollow finality. Resigned, Sombra looked around. It wasn’t the worst cell she had ever been in. The bed looked relatively comfortable, and it all seemed decently clean. But she was still locked up.

Hour passed in quiet, Sombra ticking away on her screens, seeing if she could dig up anything new on Talon but she just ended up on D.Va’s servers - the “star child” of the world, who could do it all - except avoid Sombra’s tricks. It was one of her favorite pastimes, messing with the gamer.

More hours passed by, and Sombra lay on the cot, staring up at the ceiling, regretting every decision that had led her here. Why couldn’t she have grown up to be a respected member of society? Why was she such a Mierdita as her aunt had called her, screaming from the open window as Sombra bounced from the apartment, the smoke of one of her experiments trailing after her. Yeah, their relationship had been less than great.

After Sombra had fallen asleep, her stomach growling, there was a bang on the door and suddenly her little room was flooded with light. More security guards were standing in the doorway, silhouette ominously as she blinked up at them.

“Vamanos,” One man said, beckoning her.

“Y vamos a…?” Sombra asked, standing up, her back tweaking as she stretched. No response followed her query, and instead she was grabbed by the wrist and escorted back to the elevators.

This time they went up, but only to sublevel 2. The doors dinged open and once again she was pushed down another poorly lit hallway. They turned a corner, and through a set of double swinging doors and then -

“Ah, there we are,” Moira said. She was wearing lavender colored scrubs.

“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Sombra scoffed.

“We need you to strip and put on that gown,” Moira said, ignoring her comment. “Dr. Ortega will be performing the surgery.”

So, it was happening now….

“Oh, and before we forget,” Moira said, holding out her purple, decayed arm. “The drive.”

Sombra stared at the hand, her mind going blank. All she could think of was how she was about to go under the knife.

“Please,” Moira rolled her eyes, motioning with her hand again. Sombra came back to her senses. They were this far, she might as well as hand it over. She dug in her pocket and found the purple drive. She rubbed it between her fingers for a moment, before placing it rather gently into Moira’s palm.

“Thank you,” Moira said, putting the drive in her pocket and then turned around. “Get changed.”

Sombra felt in a haze as she undressed and donned the pale blue gown. She had to wipe off all make up and take out her earrings, and her gloves that connected her to the world, which made her feel the most vulnerable of all. She was then escorted into the surgery suite where an aesthetician told her to hold her arm out and a catheter was inserted into her wrist. Then, he put something into the tube and her world grew fuzzier and fuzzier as she lay on the table. She could hear Moira talking to someone - probably the surgeon, but their words were turning into a foreign language she couldn’t understand. Her back started to already feel lighter and better, the drugs numbing the pain that was always constant. She wanted to say she didn’t need the surgery now - the pain was gone! Everything was fine! But her arms were like steel bars, clamped to the table, and her head lolled to the side. She tried blinking morse to let a nurse know that she just wanted to go home, but the nurse didn’t even look at her, instead turning away towards the rumble of voices at her feet.

Then she slipped away, into the heavy blackness that felt like it could choke her at any moment.


The sound of beeping machinery woke Sombra. Not that she would call this state waking. It was awful - she could feel her brain sitting in her skull, her eyeballs seemingly too large for their sockets. She couldn’t move any of her limbs, and her mouth tasted like metal. Slowly, she blinked herself into consciousness, and she looked around the room she was laying sideways in. Her arms were at awkward positions, one was extended to avoid her ripping out the catheter by mistake, and the other was under her side, growing increasingly numb.

She tried to shift, roll over onto her back, but instantly she cried out in a rasping, dry voice as pain rocketed her ribcage and back. Panting from the pain, she looked around again, her eyesight incredibly clear from the adrenaline rushing through her now. The room was dark and small, a few monitors on the wall showing breathing, heart rate, and other levels she wasn’t sure of. Everything seemed to have spiked the instant she had tried to move and they were now slowly making their way back down.

But she couldn’t lay here like this, everything was too uncomfortable, starting to become claustrophobic, she tried once again to shift. She screamed into the pillow, her hands clenching, fingernails digging into her skin. Her voice was already so raw that she swore she could taste blood in her mouth. Finally she stopped, unable to take the pain any longer, having only moved herself an inch to the side, and she sobbed into the pillow.

“You’re awake,” Came a voice. It was a nurse. She came in, wrote down something on a clipboard, and turned to the levels on the wall. “You shouldn’t move.” Sombra heaved a laugh, tears streaming down her face.

“Yeah,” Sombra whispered hoarsely. “I guessed that much.”

“Here, we’ll set you up with some morphine,” The nurse offered, sticking an already prepared needle into the catheter. “We didn’t want to dose you till you were fully awake. I’ll get the doctor.”

The relief was almost instant, as Sombra felt the morphine drip into her wrist and swirl up her arm into her back. She wiped as much of her face as she could onto the pillow and watched as Moira entered the room.

“Greetings,” Moira said, looking down at the chart. “The surgery was a success. And I believe you’ll recover quickly. We’ve installed the newest tech, and had to include some nanobots where your body was rejecting the implants.”

“So I can still do what I’ve been doing?” Sombra asked, her hair tickling her nose.

“I’d say you’ll be able to do much more,” Moira said. “We had to go into your spine for one portion - that was where you were experiencing the most trouble. But I believe you’ll make a full recovery.”

“That’s what I get for getting implants on the black market,” Sombra blew at the strand, trying to get it out of her eyes.

“And now that you’re new, and improved,” Moira said, ignoring her. “I have a proposition for you.” Sombra eyed her wearily. “I would like to offer a position here at Talon. Your talents have not gone unnoticed and we can see real use for you here in the base, or in the field.”

“You’re… offering me a job?” Sombra asked confused. The morphine was starting to take its toll on her cognitive abilities.

“Well of course,” Moira looked at her. “Why else would we have agreed to perform that risky and expensive surgery on you?”

“Because… I had the files,” Sombra slurred. Moira was starting to wave around. “That or because you liked me.”

“You really think we didn’t have copies upon copies of those files? We liked your talents,” Moira laughed. “This was always the plan, Sombra. Or Olivia, I should say.”

“Nah… Sombra’s fine,” Sombra felt like she was pitching forwards, about to fall. “I’m gonna sleep now.” She didn’t hear Moira’s response as she started to drift off once again. The last thing she thought clearly was that she had absolutely known Talon had a multitude of copies of their roster… too many for her to completely delete, but were they foolish enough to think she wouldn’t have sold it to a government that hated their guts for a high price?


After a few days of haziness on pain meds, Sombra started her physical therapy. She was forced to walk at a painfully slow pace on a treadmill for hours at a time, her body an array of wires and monitors. After several hours of omnics helping her on and off different equipment, she was escorted (well, wheeled) to her cell that was still her home. Moira had made it clear she wouldn’t receive any upgrades until she had agreed to Talon’s terms for employment - or allegiance in other words. She wasn’t too keen on the idea, but Talon did offer opportunities that would never exist otherwise. She could work this into her plans no problem, as long as the fine print didn’t say Talon had the absolute right and ability to rip her tech out of her spine and leaving her to bleed dry in a ditch somewhere…. She spent several hours combing all the clauses and articles looking for just that stipulation. Luckily, it wasn’t there. She signed it and handed it in with only a small twinge of worry, but she pushed it aside. Like anything sticky, she had the ability to scrub herself clean.

Physical therapy post-op was worse than pre-op pain in Sombra’s opinion. The therapy moved from a slow treadmill pace to faster, and then faster uphill, and finally even faster, uphill, without handlebars for her to desperately clutch. Sombra never considered herself particularly fit, the shortest mile she ever ran was still at 9 minutes. Sitting at a computer console for hours had its toll, and now with the added effect of new back equipment, she thought for sure one of her lungs would rebel and vacate the premises.

“Carmina… por favor, déjame descansar un minuto,” Sombra heaved as the therapist pretended to be deaf. Despite the fact she was now an official member of Talon, and had been living at the base for a month, Sombra had the distinct feeling people either didn’t like her, didn’t trust her, or the most likely: too scared to talk to Moira’s newest test subject.

Carmina jotted something down on her clipboard, and then turned up the treadmill one more dial. Sombra almost sobbed. She liked what was happening to her body - but at what cost??

The door to the therapy room swung open. Usually Sombra and Carmina were the only ones in there, as the rest of the staff used the regular gym. Carmina’s eyes darted towards the door and Sombra caught the flash of fear in them.

“Sombra,” Came the Irish drawl. Ah. She was back in town… Sombra had liked not seeing the ghostly face in a few weeks. “Turn that off for a moment, will you?” Carmina reached up and quickly shut off the treadmill. Sombra instantly felt her legs seize up as she came to a sudden halt.

“Boss!” Sombra gasped as she turned and leaned against the treadmill. “What brings you back in town?”

“If you would be so kind as to leave us,” Moira motioned at Carmina, who nodded and quickly scurried out the door. Sombra couldn’t help but marvel at Moira’s ability to speak in suggestion but be followed with such subservience. “Sombra, you’ve improved vastly over the past month. I’m having you transfered so you can begin training with your team.”

“Team?” Sombra wiped her face. “I don’t work with a team.”

“Yes, you do.”

“I don’t need a team of IT wannabes getting in my way as they jizz looking at my parallelization.”

“Oh, my dear, you misunderstand,” Moira folded her arms across her chest. “We’re having you go out into the field.”

Sombra paused… “¿Qué?”

“We’re not locking you away in some basement to hold up the firewalls, we have many nobodies already doing that - admittedly somewhat incompetently as you proved,” Moira tapped her long fingernails against her arm. “We want you out there, gathering intel direct from the source.”

Sombra almost jumped with glee. Talon was making this almost too easy! ¡Los imbéciles! But she contained herself and settled for a bemused look. “My team - who are they?”

“I will introduce them when we arrive. Get cleaned up, we leave in two hours.” Moira turned quickly and left the room.

An opportunity handed on a silver platter. To be able to meet and directly manipulate the people she needed to manipulate…. ¡Perfecto! Sombra went back to her cell and washed in the communal showers. Her green hair was looking worse for wear as she didn’t have any means to upkeep it at all in the LumériCo pyramid. Maybe a change was due. After enjoying the steam from the showers a moment longer, Sombra hurried to get dressed. Her punk clothes had long been discarded - probably burned bause Moira was just like that after the surgery and Sombra was left to wear gray sweatpants and tank tops and her gloves.

A knock on her door and Sombra was escorted out of the room, up the elevator, out of the building and onto a military grade stealth jet. So, they were flying further than a helicopter could go…. Moira pointed at the seat beside her, and Sombra was strapped in by a Talon soldier. It felt like she was about to go on a roller coaster ride with the worst companion at her side.

“While flying, I want you to go over your teammates files,” Moira said, handing Sombra a microchip. Sombra quickly opened her holo-interface, the skull flickering familiarly in and out of view.

“Where are we headed?” Sombra asked as she opened the files.

“Our base is near Tournai, Belgium.”

“Oh, we were so forthcoming and straightforward with our answer,” Sombra smirked. “Too bad I’ve never heard of it.” Heterochromatic eyes flashed dangerously at her.

“Yes, well, you will not be confined to the base.”

The sound of the engines roaring into life interrupted Sombra’s readied surprised response. The take off was a little rough, but soon they reached altitude. Moira occupied herself on her phone, and Sombra looked at what the microchip offered her.






>>Team Call #9





>>Sombra file...


So everyone had a code name…. ¡Chido!

Sombra selected “Sombra” first, because what were the other team members reading about her? It was only a paragraph long, with some stats on her physical appearance and how Talon had recruited her. Hardly anything on her past. Thank God. And it looked like they had opted to leave her full name out, which was a bonus.

Next she opened “Reaper”. It was a blurb just like hers, very brief and to the point. She couldn’t help the intake of breath as she read the name. Gabriel Reyes? The Gabriel Reyes? Of Blackwatch fame? Thought dead. Wow, that had slipped by her. She scrolled more and discovered with less surprise that he had been a Moira experiment.

Sombra turned to Moira. “Hey, why do I get to know their identities but mine is left out?”

Moira sighed irritatedly. “The members of your team are high profile agents. You’d have figured out within minutes. You are the only one with the most appropriate call name.”

“Huh, well, thanks?”

“Trust me, it is in everyone's interest to keep your identity as close to home as possible at the moment.” Moira turned back to her phone. “We don’t want any leaks.”

Sombra shrugged, and opened the “Widowmaker” file.

Also only a few paragraphs. The name jumped out at her. ‘Amélie Lacroix (née Guillard)’. She remembered reading about the ballet artist. Gerard Lacroix was an Overwatch agent that died and Amélie Lacroix went missing soon after - presumed kidnapped. And now Sombra knew by whom. She had never looked deeply into the Lacroix case, it hadn’t seemed important, but the blurb said a lot for so few words. Sombra leaned forward, putting her chin in her hand as she read the words:

>>In 2070, the Talon Group took the opportunity to eliminate Gérard Lacroix with the use of Amélie. With the switch in focus, the Talon Group was able to acquire Amélie and subject her to reconditioning programs that allowed her to become a sleeper agent. After the assassination of Gérard Lacroix, the Talon Group took repossession of its sleeper agent, and continued the process of weaponizing.


“Is her skin really blue?” Sombra asked.

“You ask that and not about Reaper?” Moira quipped.

“Well,” Sombra raised an eyebrow. “Says here Gabriel was clinically dead. Makes sense for you to mess with his cellular structure and bring him back como parca literal.” Moira gave her the side eye. “As the grim reaper.” Sombra muttered the translation. She was gonna miss speaking Spanish….

Moira turned away, “Yes, she is blue.”

“Qué chulo….” Sombra looked back at the files. It was refreshing getting to use her tech again - especially pain free. Maybe she could have some fun for the next couple of hours on this flight.


Sombra awoke with a sudden jerk and sore neck as the plane landed with a heavy bouncing jolt. Moira was already unstrapping herself before the plane even stopped, and Sombra blinked blearily about, wishing there were windows. How long had she been out? It had been about a 9 hour ride, but she had no idea if it was day or night outside. Sombra stretched her arms up, arching her back, the seatbelts pressing into her a shoulders. Aye… she ached.

She followed Moira to the door, and stepped out -

“Fuck! Maldito congelamiento!” Sombra choked as icy wind sliced at her skin. Why had no one told her how to dress? Moira flashed her an annoyed glance, eying her sweat pants up and down. Bitch! Sombra huffed, her breath coming out in swirling fog. She had never been in this type of weather. “So this is Europe?” Moira didn’t bother to answer.

They stepped out onto the tarmac and Sombra followed Moira to a waiting black car with heavily tinted windows. It was evening in Belgium, and Sombra couldn’t see out of the windows even if she pressed her nose against the glass - great first time in Europe. They drove from the airport for about thirty minutes in silence. Moira was reading more reports, and Sombra played some games. Yes, cheating her way to the top - especially to beat that stuck up Korean girl - was fun, but Sombra still liked to test her actual skill in the digital world, within the confines of the game designers blueprints. After a while, the car seemed to have turned off the freeway, and they trundled through even darker forests from what little Sombra could tell.

They came to a stop, and Sombra stepped out of the car behind Moira. Before them, was a not very imposing building of dark gunmetal gray, that stood only one story. There appeared to be no door, but instead a pad sunken into the wall, that Moira approached. After typing, and scanning, an outline of an opening sank backwards and then slid open, letting Moira, Sombra, and the few Talon mercs to enter. They stepped into the building and walked quickly to a set of elevators at the end of a cold, metallic hallway. Two guards wearing concealing helmets stood sentry next to the elevators. There was a second pad, and Moira waved her hand over a reader (she probably had a chip installed in her wrist) and the doors opened and Sombra was shoved inside by a quick jap to her shoulder from a guard from Mexico. Then, they were heading downwards. Very, very deep down into the earth.

They stood in silence, Sombra wondering if she would get her hands on the speaker system and install some weird ass elevator music to make this long journey more tolerable. Moira stood beside her, thumbing one of her long claws. At this rate, Sombra wouldn’t be surprised if she saw cloven hooves instead of shoes. Moira was definitely in a different league.

“So I’m guessing this is only one of the bases,” Sombra asked, leaning against the cold metal railing.

“You guessed correctly,” was Moira’s response. They stood in silence once again.

Finally the ding alerted Sombra they had reached their destination. The doors slid open to reveal another hallway, only this one appeared to have more rooms leading off of it. No windows on these doors, instead there were small name plates beside each metal door frame, suggesting what might occur within. Data Research, Technology & Weapons Research, Biochemical Lab, etc. They entered a door with the label: Scientific & Medical Research. Because of course Moira was in “science”, and not Frankensteinien experiments.

What or who was inside, made Sombra wished she was in something other than sweats.

“Ah, Widowmaker,” Moira purred, moving towards the wispy woman, who looked up from a table with a strange, spider-like contraption sat in front of her. “I was hoping we’d run into you. What are you working on?”

Widowmaker glanced at Sombra briefly, her yellow eyes sending chills and ripples down Sombra’s back, before she turned back to Moira, her voice deeper than Sombra would have expected. “I’m improving the neurotoxin in my minds, I wanted to see if I could create a substance that would allow my helmet to track targets through surfaces.” Her French accent was strong and lilting, her dark purple hair highlighting in the ominous light.

“I hope you have help with this little project, you know how I dislike you being unsupervised, especially when I’m not even in the country,” Moira tapped her nails on the metal table, eying Widowmaker up and down. Sombra felt like she was intruding on some weird personal spat between the two, as Widowmaker dropped her eyes from Moira’s. Sombra leaned back against the doorframe, watching carefully.

“Of course I have had help,” Widowmaker said, almost haughtily - but she still avoided eye contact with Moira. “I was just working on some tweaks here for the release mechanism.”

“It’s alright, but we should have our meeting in the morning, don’t you agree?” Moira coaxed.

“Of course,” Widowmaker conceded.

With a smug grin, Moira turned around and gestured at Sombra. “Here is your new partner, we’ll have an assignment for the three of you soon.” Widowmaker’s eyes burned at Sombra’s skin from across the room. “Her code name is Sombra.”

Widowmaker said nothing.

“I think it is best if you retire,” Moira motioned, reaching a hand out to grip at Widowmaker’s wrist. Widowmaker, obediently, was walked to the door and let out.

“Wow, she’s whipped,” Sombra muttered. Turning back to Moira, “So why did you bring me here boss?”

“This is just one of my offices, I will have a guard escort you to your new quarters. They will be better accommodating than Mexico I believe. Also, you need a uniform.”

“A uniform?” Sombra laughed, putting her hand on her hip. “I don’t wear a uniform.”

“We can’t have a green skeleton running around can we.”


Chapter Text


2: Apparently, there is an I in Team

The ceiling was gray. The walls were gray. Everything was terribly dull. What had she traded her life for? Trading up was the goal, not down. Sombra rolled onto her side in the hard bed, her green hair draping over her eyes, shielding her from the drab surrounding landscape. Maybe this was a mistake. What even was her ulterior plan anyway?

With a shaky breath, Sombra sat up and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. She closed her eyes and formed a fist, settling it heavily on the frame of the bed. No, focus. She knew what she wanted done. Don’t lose sight yet.

Uno: Get access to highly secure data banks, containing information that can be used to sell to opposing organizations and governments

Dos: Sell information to opposing organizations and governments for more information, and some money because why not

Tres: Expose organizations and governments for the assholes they are

Quatro: Finally find out who is behind Ojo Rojo . Red Eye.

Cinco: Become the puppeteer.

Sombra went over the list in her head again: This was all part of a greater scheme - she was already in place to finally fulfill step one. All those hours working her way through local government, the police force, the corrupt city officials, onto her access of omnics and gang life, straight into the belly of LumériCo, and now - an underground bunker in a random European country?!

“Aargh!!” Sombra groaned, pushing her fisted hands into her eye sockets, feeling the pressure build. Maybe she was going about this all wrong!

Her alerts dinged at her - Moira.

Sombra opened her interface and saw that she was to make her way to be formally fitted into a Talon uniform and then to be briefed. She rubbed the crease between her eyebrows, breathing heavily.

Makeover for first day of school, hm?


Sombra looked in the mirror as the Chief of Disguise (Yes! That is a real thing apparently) finished his work on her hair. The bleached yellow/green ends had been shorne away into a pixie cut, and on request, the ends dyed a deep maroon. It looked ok. Maybe with the Talon uniform and some dark makeup, the cut would look less like a suburban soccer mom and more like the secret agent she had been trying to go for. Sombra ruffled the bangs, attempting to make it look more punk. Instead she just looked like her prima who had three ugly screaming kids. Great.

Sombra sorrowfully made her way to the apparent fitting room, where she was sized by a small floating omnic. Finally, after letting her hands drop to her sides after holding them aloft for over 5 minutes, a 3D printer began its work. Sombra watched it whirr with a tired disinterest. Man, she couldn’t wait to get back outside. She was sick of being cooped up.

The printer stopped and the resulting product was spat out at her. “You’ve got to be kidding me….” Sombra stared down at the dark gray and white fabric.

It had absolutely no flair! No pizzazz! ¡Nada! It was white, grey and red, just like every other merc in the joint. It fit her well enough, but the shoes were heavy and cumbersome, and the fact they went over her knees just exacerbated her lack of movement. No gloves were included, and her old gang gloves did not match whatsoever. Sombra sighed heavily at her reflection. She was forced to do all the heavy lifting, eh? Well, at least this would preoccupy her time for a few minutes. Turning back towards the printer, Sombra cracked her fingers.

Hacking it was pathetic. Talon obviously did not care about its security. Hm, maybe she would be able to use that to her advantage in the future. Right now, she had to stay in her lane - as much as she could possibly stand. A few minutes later, the printer sparked back into life and a belt with a skirt fell into her hands alone with a pair of white gloves that she could hook up to her back. Perfecto.

With the thick belt and gloves on, Sombra looked back into the mirror.

“I’m Batman, motherfuckers,” Sombra said staring at herself. She snapped her fingers and the the skirt began to glow with a red honeycomb pattern. At least now she didn’t look like a Talon drone. It needed some work, but somewhere to start.

Sombra blew herself a kiss in the mirror.


She had to admit, she was appreciative that the thick underlayer of the outfit kept her warm, as the underground “lair” didn’t offer much warmth beyond a few panels scattered about, pumping dry heat into the cold vacuum. Sombra wandered down the hallways. Man, it was desolate down here. As she walked, she fired up her OS. The warmth from her back no longer felt searing and tearing, but rather a comfortable buzz that almost helped her relax. She was still on strict physical therapy sessions, so her muscles needed the heat. As she walked, she looked at her messages.

She had been sent a message from the Head of Security, requesting that she begin work on the firewalls and updates to the cybersecurity. Sombra felt her eye twitch. This was exactly the opposite of what she wanted to do! Not only was her outfit drab and unimaginative for the secret super agent that she was, now she was being drafted to do network engineering. And it wasn't even to hack into a super computer on the fucking moon! No, she was doing IT research like some tech jockey. Who even was the Head of Security? Sombra peered at the name: Lucas Olsen. What a loser. He would rue the day he emailed her.

Despondent, Sombra made her way to the bowels of the bunker. It was easy navigating the maze-like structure when she did a quick scan and found the blueprints. These guys were so amatuer. So this was her life now, huh? Sombra never considered she'd miss Los Muertos, even if most of its members were asnos. After traveling down the elevators, and seriously digging into the code to see if she could get the speakers to play something, anything, the doors slid open to reveal a room that was larger than any she had seen in the bunker.

Rows, upon rows, towers of huge computers, were glowing a deep red in ominus darkness. The room was hot, and even as she stepped in she felt her forehead break out in a sheen of sweat. Sombra’s feet tapped on the stone floor, as she carefully slunk through the city of data. She couldn’t help the small intake of breath.

They really needed a better cooling system down here, Dios mío!

There was a blue glowing light coming from the opposite side of the elevators and Sombra picked up her pace to reach the multiple monitor display. Shouldn’t that Orson or whatever his name was be down here to run her through the paces? Sombra peered around the darkness, but she seemed to be alone. This bunker was surprising empty. She had almost thought of Talon as a company, with CEOs and accountants, but it was ending up feeling more like a military operation. Which… it was… but still!

Sombra took a seat at the desk and looked at the computer. There were the usual programs and softwares open, running diagnostics on the supercomputers behind her, as well as a monitor devoted to security. Suddenly, her pager buzzed, alerting her to more messages.

“... Redirect traffic…. Eliminate the DMZ all together?... Improve IDS and IPS…. Ay!!! This is so boring!!” Sombra couldn’t contain her annoyance at the list of tasks being asked of her. She tossed the note away, sending it to digitally fizz out as she looked at the screens. Fine, if they wanted her to do IT bullshit, then she was going to do it extremely fast and extremely well. And if she added a backdoor for her own use - well that was on them not keeping her supervised, wasn’t it.

Stretching her fingers again, she began to work.




Sombra jolted awake. Really? She hadn’t fallen asleep in front of a computer for a while - usually her back would fitz out and keep her in painful wakefulness. But the combined monotony and heat of the room must have knocked her out. She checked the time as she rubbed the back of her aching neck. It had only been a few hours, and no one seemed to be looking for her. Glancing at her handiwork one more time, Sombra sighed with relief. The security should be tight enough that even the Head of Security should be satisfied. She didn’t even know if he really cared but he should after her magical touch!

Now what…. Sombra looked around the vast room, tapping her finger to her chin. Well, while she was down here, why not snoop? Why not see more info on her teammates she had yet to be formally introduced to?

Sombra quickly found the Gabriel “Reaper” Reyes’ file.

Interesting. But also not really. Clearance level 1 really gave you shit, didn’t it?

Sombra disappointedly shut off the file and began her digging again. Now… for the blue lady….

Whoa. Talk about a med rap sheet.

Sombra leaned back in her chair. Well, next time she’d get a level or two up on that clearance, find out what was really going on with her supposed ‘teammates’. She pushed her stupid bangs out of her face, eying her work. Now, for the final touch! A backdoor only she would know how to get to.

A few minutes later, Moira was contacting her.

Come to the conference room. First mission briefing. ASAP.

Ooh, now things were getting interesting.




Sombra entered the briefing room cautiously. It was ridiculously dark inside, with only the glow of monitors. From cursuriouary glance, Sombra noticed the ominous silhouette of Moira. She was wearing a white jacket, and had a skinny tie cinched around her neck. How come she looked cool and Sombra was stuck in this get up?

“Take a seat,” Moira said in way of a greeting. Sombra chose the chair opposite her boss, and tapped her nails, feigning impatience.

“Soo,” Sombra drawled. “This place is… neat.”

“I expect your work in the computer level is close to being complete?” Moira interjected.

Sombra paused, eying Moira from across the table. “Yeah, probably a few more hours and I’ll have everything new and shiny for you, mi amiga.” Hey, she wasn’t about to give up access to Talon information. “By the way, I did say I didn’t want to do that work. It’s boring for someone like me - don’t you have a bunch of black hat wannabes hanging around?”

Moira scowled. Oops, too far maybe? “Sombra, you work for me and Talon now. You do as we say, without any unnecessary questions. If I tell you to mop the floors,” She gripped the edge of the table, her purple veined hand almost pulsing. “You will mop the floors.”

“Alright, señora… I was just messing with you,” Sombra stopped her tapping, raising her hands in a surrendering motion. Moira resumed her upright position. “Now, am I doing a solo mission or am I meeting some more amigos?”

“Reaper will be here in a moment, a little patience.” Moira said cooly, her composure back in place.

Sombra felt a little giddy. So exciting! Meeting a fantasma hadn’t been on her bucket list, but it was going on now!

Reaper had them waiting for longer than Sombra had patience for. Moira didn’t seem to care as she read something on her monitor, so Sombra began to dig through her codes, editing and adjusting. Just when she thought things were going to be interesting.

Just when Sombra was about to turn in her resignation, the door opened and a dark figure slid into the room. She could tell he was walking but he made no sound. He wore a black tactical uniform, his hands clad in black clawed gloves and a mask that resembled a skull-- or maybe an owl? hid his face from view. Either way, what a look! Sombra needed to up her game if she was going to work with someone like this.

Reaper didn’t even bother looking at her twice, just glided right on by towards Moira where he settled himself against the wall. Moira glanced up and nodded, flashing her heterochromatic eyes at Sombra.

“This is your new partner,” Moira gestured at the slouching Sombra across the way. Reaper turned his mask towards her. Sombra raised a hand and gave a little wave.

“Hola,” She said with a grin. Reaper turned away. Why was no one willing to show some damn common decency around this place?

“Now, if we’re ready, I’ll begin the briefing.”

“Ready as ever,” Sombra said, leaning back in her chair. “If you came any later, I would have shot myself out of the tedium.”

Reaper made a gruff sound that Sombra wasn’t sure if it was a growl or a laugh.

“We have your first recon mission, Sombra,” Moira said. “You’ll be accompanying Reaper and several other soldiers to infiltrate Winston’s base and gather intel.”

Sombra grinned, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. First mission and this is what she gets. She was so blessed sometimes. She really had to remember to thank her lucky stars every once in a while.

“You will be in the dropship,” Moira continued. “You will be operating remotely as Reaper will go in and neutralize the target and set up the wireless relay for you.”

“Sweet, no hay trabajo sucio para mi,” Sombra murmured, mouth still concealed. “Any security protocols you know about?”

“We believe Winston is still using Athena, an artificial intelligence that learns the longer it is interacted with. We know it’s been in use during Overwatch’s prime, and I would say not to be shocked if Winston has been using it exclusively as an extremely advanced OS.”

“That shouldn’t be a problem,” Sombra dismissively waved her hand. “Human unpredictability will always outdo AI algorithms,” She leaned forward and rapped her fingernails on the shiny wood table once more. “and I can work people just as well as I work machines.”

Moira looked at her sardonically, “Well, you won’t be ‘working’ anyone on this mission.” Sombra couldn’t help the gurgle of laughter that boiled from her throat. Moira shot her a dangerous look. “You head out tomorrow at 0400. Winston’s base is located in Gibraltar, so it will take some time getting there.”

“Got it, jefe!” Sombra saluted. Moira ignored her.

“Reaper, stay behind, I’ll be going over exactly what you need to do.” The silent figure nodded, and Sombra knew it was her queue to leave the room.

There was something from the conversation that had peaked her interest. She walked back to her room, and removed her boots and other hard-shelled gear and settled herself on her bed, fluffing up the pillow and blankets to create a nest. Once situated, she opened her software and looked up Athena AI. She didn’t use AI, didn’t much like having a computer tell her what to do and how to do it. She was her own AI, but that didn’t mean she didn’t appreciate the eloquence and complexity of a well built artificial intelligence. Omnics had always fascinated her, many operated as singular minds, with I think, therefore I am imprinted on their brains. But AI in computers were different. They operated differently, they thought differently. Humanoid omnics were meant to mimic humans. AI never really was. AI was always meant to be better, faster, more.

She also didn’t like them because they tended to be sanctimonious and patronizing.

“Hm, Athena, you don’t have a lot of info online do you,” Sombra muttered to herself. She scrolled through her pages. What most was said was what Moira already had informed her on. Athena was an AI used in the height of Overwatch’s prime. She was used for information gathering, data wrangling, and even navigation on the MV-261 ships. But there was something interesting that popped up on an old news article. “Oh, mija….” Sombra smiled, quickly scanning the article. “You shouldn’t be operating!” She couldn’t help but snap her fingers. Under the Petras Act by a UN Committee, all Overwatch activities were forced to stop - including any digital operations. Sombra found a link to the Petras act and her suspicions were confirmed.

Athena was technically illegal.

Well, she’d just add that to her little black book, wouldn’t she.

Sombra played a few rounds against D.Mon (an ‘teammate’ of D.Va’s) and successfully cheated her way to a win before falling asleep.


Sombra woke up at 0330 and with a bleary eyed stumble, began to dress herself. First mission, first exciting thing to happen in months!

Man, she needed an espresso.

To her horror, the espresso machine was a pathetic mess. She was in Europe and Talon has this piece of junk to offer? She checked the time. She had about 10 minutes left, perhaps just the right amount of time to adjust timing and water temperature…. Glancing around, the dining room was empty. This place was a literal ghost town. Just meant she had more freedom to do what she wanted.

After a few minutes of feverishly adjusting the machine, she slipped a to-go cup under the spout and a decent smelling espresso was expelled. As Sombra turned away from the machine, it made a bzzt! and then smoke started spilling out of the side. Sombra gave it the side eye, sipping at her espresso, before leaving the room. Someone would replace it.

After days (and what felt like months), she was headed back to the surface. She leaned against the railing in the silent elevator and washed down the rest of the espresso in one go. Brushing her bangs  once more in her reflection, the doors slid open and she was greeted by two Talon soldiers. They nodded at her and escorted her out of the building. So she was still being treated like a prisoner, only allowed to prowl her cage, not go as she pleased.

Biting wind whipped at her as Sombra stepped out from the depths that was the bunker. The sun wouldn’t be rising for another few hours, and there were flood lights set up on the large vehicle before her. The soldiers guided her to massive machine and she clambered in. This wasn’t the luxury she had grown accustomed to. This was military grade, with soldiers crowding her as she squeezed into a seat by the window. Glancing around the enclosed space, she noticed Reaper in the front passenger seat. ¿Seriamente? She leaned forward and tapped Reaper’s shoulder.

“Ay, amigo, why do you get the preferential treatment?” She asked grumpily. Reaper turned his masked face towards her.

“Know your place,” He growled at her.

Sombra put up her hands, leaning back, rubbing shoulders with the merc next to her. But she couldn’t help but mutter under her breath: “Gilipollas….”

“Te puedo entender, idiota.” Came the gruff response.

Sombra clamped her mouth shut. Of course; she was being stupid at 4AM, but she had read he was bilingual in Spanish. Perhaps she could warm him up to her? Sombra watched the back of the spectre’s head, tapping her nails on her knee.

A little while later, the truck was pulling over and she was filed out with the other soldiers onto a military dropship - perhaps a MV-355? It had gear, computers, and guns. So many guns. But before she could go examine the set up, she was strapped in once again, and this time her adrenaline was starting to pump. She was really doing this wasn’t she? She was really becoming a secret agent for a shady organization. ¡El sueño!

The plane launched roughly, and Sombra watched as her compatriots were jostled about. They were on their way!




It took just over two hours, when suddenly they landed in a flurry of noise and chaos. Not very stealth. Sombra waited, watching the others before unbuckling her seat belt. Man, she was really going into this with very little training wasn’t she… but before she could complain to someone in charge, she was unstrapped and bustled to a seat in front of the computer bay. Soldiers were handed weapons, and were putting on headsets before filing out of the back of the plane. She couldn’t toss the feeling that there was a chance she didn’t belong.

A man handed her a headset and then a hand was on her shoulder, tapping her attention.

“Sombra,” Came the gruff rasp of Reaper. “You’ll stay here and remotely start the hacking process when I hook up with the interface.”

“What are you using?” Sombra asked. Reaper shrugged and tossed her a cylindrical device. Sombra connected with it and snorted. “A buspirate with black magic components? Proxmark 7 RVM3 as telecommunicator…. This is a piece of mierda.”

Reaper growled and snatched the device away.

“You should get in contact with whoever made it! I need to have a serious talk,” Sombra called after the retreating super soldier. Looking back at her interface, she couldn’t help but grin as she watched the code she had just cloned flash by. But seriously, that bullshit device wasn’t about to stand a chance against Athena. But perhaps with a few adjustments of her own, her copycat code would do the trick.

Sombra settled herself in the drop ship, and five minutes later the fun began. The ship’s engines ignited, and started to lift the heavy machine straight up into the air. After reaching altitude, they circled a few times over an old abandoned looking military base before soldiers began to ascend the stairs below them. There was chatter on the headset at first, and then a call for silence went out and Sombra could feel the hairs on the back of her neck stiffen to attention. All she could hear over the mics were the footfalls on metal and quiet breaths of highly trained hitmen as they made their way through the building. Sombra adjusted her headset, peering over another agents shoulder at the monitor displaying shaking footage of what was occurring below.

Suddenly, the power below them completely shut down.

Sombra watched, wide eyed as the agents slowed their pace, looking around, their breaths coming in a little harder. Suddenly there was a crash and gasps, and -

“¡¿Es eso un jodido mono?!” Sombra jumped up from her seat, only to have hands push her back into place. “NO SERIOUSLY,” Sombra yelled into her mic again. “Is that. A fucking. Monkey?”

She had heard about the ape tests, intelligence matching if not surpassing humans but… Winston was an ape?? Some fucking briefing Moira! And she had been googly eyes over Athena.

People were talking rapidly into headsets, calling out positions, there were yells as people were tossed like ragdolls across the room, crunching sounds of glass and bones shattering. Sombra, very pleased with her position in the sky, kept editing her code, trying to drown out the distracting voices in her ears. Glancing over the agent’s shoulder again, Sombra scanned what was going on, waiting for her queue. Where had Reaper gone? Wasn’t he supposed to get to the mainframe - which from the chaotic footage she was watching, it was in the room with the monkey, but Reaper was no where -

Ah. There he was. The puta. Sombra clapped her hands together in front of her mouth, pressing her lips hard together to keep from laughing giddily. He was making an entrance. Ohh, she liked him.

Next thing, Winston was restrained on the ground, and Reaper was making his way to the mainframe. Her time to shine.

“Sombra,” Came the drawl.

Sombra quickly opened her interface and began hacking her way around Athena. Athena was strong, and very very fast. Sombra could hear over the mics Athena telling Winston what was happening. Everytime Sombra almost got all the way in, Athena blocked her. Finally a match worth something. Sombra hunched over and exhaled a sharp breath through her teeth. She needed to focus. She ripped off the headset and delved into the code.

Athena was very fast, but she was very predictable. Human variable was no match for mathematics when it came to an expert in the field of unpredictability. And what Sombra was doing, was the opposite of predictable.

With her cloned hackcode, and some very fast adjustments, she grabbed a good portion of the Overwatch agent datalist. All for herself. Now, to get the real datalist for Talon -

Something was happening behind her, Winston seemed to have gotten up, but Reaper was shooting him back down. Sombra’s eyes peered over, watching with bated breath. Could this be it for Winston the very large gorilla? But suddenly, Winston tossed something towards Reaper. Something… very intriguing.

Sombra wanted whatever that thing was.

And what she wanted, she got. She watched as the device expelled a small shield. And then very quickly destabilized. Reaper was thrown back in the resulting explosion, landing with a thud against a metal table. Sombra turned back to the code.

Well, while she was in….

Sombra began digging harder and faster - she really didn’t have a lot of time left. A few more kickbacks from Athena and Sombra found what she was looking for: ‘Barrier Projector Prototype’ blueprints. Sombra quickly copied the information and glanced back around. Reaper seemed to be down, and so did most of the other agents. Sombra looked back at the code. Oops.

Well, she’d make it look like it wasn’t her fault at least.

Agents were calling for soldiers to retreat - mission failure. With a few more deft lines, Sombra successfully wiped her own copy trace from Athena and shut Athena down. A little scare never hurt anyone. Athena would be back on shortly, but she and no one else would be any the wiser that Sombra now had quite a good handful of Overwatch agent’s names and locations at her disposal. Like taking candy from a baby.


A rough, angry yell ripped through the airship. Sombra spun around, to see a heaving Reaper in the open doorway of the plane.

“Wha…” Sombra swallowed her own words. “How did you… get up here?!” She knew she had read the reports on him but if being a genetic fog meant he could fly up to a hovering craft then damn, maybe she had been wrong about Moira and she needed some upgrades to her cellular structure.

“Sombra!” Reaper was approaching her, seemingly growing in size. “What. Happened.”

“I,” Sombra licked her dry lips. “I told you, that piece of shit you guys call a data breacher wasn’t up to the job against Athena.”

“Did you get anything? ” Reaper snarled, reaching down and grabbed her shoulder.

“No,” Sombra stared defiantly into his mask. “I wasn’t prepared for that AI.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Reaper gripped tighter, his metal claws digging into her skin. “Moira said you were the best. And this is what you have to bring to the table? Excuses?”

Moira said she was the best. How sweet!

“No training, no forewarning of how this was all going to go down, and to boot no one mentioned the fucking monkey,” Sombra snarled right back. “It’s not my fault you couldn’t shoot it in the face.”

“Fuck!” Reaper ripped his hand away, turning around. “Back to base. NOW!”




There was one small oversight on Sombra’s part, and it was waiting for her back in Belgium.


It was a cold, disappointing sound that sliced through the air like it was solid.

Moira stood next to a table with beakers and wires and monitors measuring strange phenomena. If Sombra didn’t feel liker her throat might be ripped out at any second, she would have thought Moira looked like a supervillian from a kids TV show. But instead all she could think about was Moira pouring some steaming liquid into her veins to torture her.

“You disappointed me today.”

Sombra shifted uneasily on her feet. She was standing too far from the doorway to feel comfortfortable, but maybe this wouldn’t be that bad. A veritable slap on the wrist.

“Talon - no, I - have put too much at stake with you,” Moira continued as she picked up a glass test tube between her fingers delicately. “This was a deplorable failure, a complete catastrophe.” Sombra couldn’t argue that Talon had failed miserably, but she felt quite content with her own work. “I will not -” Suddenly the glass tube was in Moira’s tightening grip, cracks forming up the sides of it in a delicate spider web. Sombra couldn’t even blink. “Accept failure again.”

Just then, the door to the lab swung open, and Moira immediately set down the test tube delicately. It crumbled immediately, into a sparkling pile of glass.

Reaper moved behind Sombra, his arms crossed, and she could hear his claws on the leather, scraping. She had never felt so relieved to have a hulking black masked man behind her than she did right then.

“You prepared me for about 5 minutes,” Sombra defensively shot back. “How do you expect me to preform with foreign tech in a chaotic environment for the first time?”

“I expect the best!” Moira snarled back. “Talon has put a lot into you, it’s about time you start paying it back.”

“Look,” Sombra was feeling a little desperate. How could she salvage this? “If you would let me, I can start upgrading your tech, making it the best in the world. You just can’t lock me in the dungeon again. I may have choked today, but you are partially to blame!” Moira’s eyes flashed dangerously but Sombra continued. “Reaper and I have never worked together - I’ve never worked with a real team before. Next time I won’t fuck it up.”

“Moira,” Reaper suddenly joined the conversation. “She has a point.”

Moira’s icy gaze snapped towards the shadow behind Sombra.

“Ay! See!” Sombra interjected. But Reaper’s grip unexpectedly pressing into her shoulder made her bite her tongue.

“You bargained us to work well together, when nothing was done to prepare for the situation on her end. It’s a good thing you didn’t send her out into the fight, because otherwise you might have a dead hacker on your hands.”

“She needs to be up to the task, we have too much work to do.”

Sombra felt like a first grader, getting scolded on her grades by her tía y tío.

“She does, but she’s right. She needs to get to know the team, get use to working with them.”

Moira eyes skipped between Reaper and Sombra, before her scowl dissolved into an annoyed sigh. “Fine. Start training, and I want what you promised Sombra. Give me that tech you think is the best in the world.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Sombra rasped through her dry lips.

“Get out. Both of you.”

Sombra followed Reaper out of the laboratory all too willingly, and down the cold hallway. They walked in silence, with mostly the sound of Sombra’s heavy boots on the ground. Reaper was damn quiet. She couldn’t help but keep glancing up at him. His hood was up and his hands seemed to be permanently tensed. Sombra sped up to match his wide gait.

“Gracias,” She broke the silence, looking up at him. He huffed back. “I don’t know what Moira would have done if you weren’t there.”

“Don’t mistake that for me liking you,” Reaper suddenly stopped walking and turned towards her. “You really fucked it up today. We were this close to getting all of the Overwatch agents locations. Do you have any idea how big that is?”

“You keep blaming me! But if I remember correctly, it was you and like 30 other guys who were on the ground running around like idiots,” Sombra shot back. She jabbed her finger into his chest. He suddenly grabbed her wrist and twisted it away from himself. “Ow! What the fuck!” Sombra yelped. He let her go and began walking down the hallway again. “You have serious anger management issues!” She yelled at him, nursing her hand against her own chest.

Reaper disappeared around a corner.

Sombra dejectedly headed back towards to the cafeteria. She needed a café cubano to make herself feel better since alcohol seemed to be prohibited on site. The espresso machine was worse for wear but she managed to get it to spit out the coffee in a little cup. Digging through the cupboards she could only find white sugar. Belguim sucked.

Crappy first field day.

Sitting in the empty dining room, Sombra sipped at her coffee, her feet up on a chair. She opened a small digital window in the palm of her hand, in case there were cameras about, and examined the blueprints of Winston’s device. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a blue and purple shadow flit past the doorway.

Carefully, Sombra got up, and peered around the corner where the figure had quickly moved.


Her back was to Sombra. She was wearing a purple leotard getup, and her hair was pulled into its high, tight ponytail. Sombra remembered reading that she had been a ballerina, and her posture and lithe movements only added to her mystique.

“Hey, Widowmaker!” Sombra called down the hall. The figure slightly turned her head towards the disturbance, but kept walking briskly away. Sombra tapped the doorframe, her brow furrowing. “Coda….”

Downing the rest of her espresso, she headed back towards her room. Well, despite the very scary slap on the wrist, Sombra did have her little secret stored in her fingertips, and she had to be honest, she was quite excited to see what could be done with the barrier projector device.

Back in her room, Sombra raised her hand, and scanned every wall, the ceiling, under the bed, anywhere Talon (or should she say Moira) would have put in a camera. She wasn’t about to begin work and get caught. Not to her surprise, there was a camera near the door, pointing towards the desk and bed, camouflaged into the wall. It seemed standard issue and it just confirmed her suspicions that Talon was full of pervertidos. Quickly, she hacked into the camera, feeding it with an image of an empty room.

Undressed, except in a tank top and underwear, Sombra snuggled herself in bed and began going over the raw data she had nabbed, and sorting it out. But her mind kept drifting sideways into the rush of adrenaline she had felt fighting Athena with the sounds of screaming men in the background, the feral roar of both Reaper and Winston. Her back was heating up, the ticking of micro machines were starting to buzz and whirr. The rush she had felt as she manipulated Talon’s systems from the inside, down in the overheated basement, a slight high from watching Moira fold with Reaper by her side….

“Fuck it,” She murmured, reaching her hand down between her legs, feeling herself pulsate under her fingertips. She hadn’t fingered herself in over a month and she really fucking needed the release. Sombra wasn’t one for preamble and foreplay when all she wanted to do was come; she didn’t even bother hitching up her tank top, instead resorting to roughly pinching her nipples through the thin fabric. As for fantasies… she didn’t just have one, she could pull any out and get the job done.

With a slight groan, she settled herself back, peeling off the glove that let her hook into the global web and pushed her underwear to the side. She started by rubbing her clit vigorously, before pushing two fingers in, making her gasp. ¡Dios mio! She hadn’t realized how pent up she was! Sombra felt her thighs begin shaking, and her breathing was already becoming erratic and disjointed. With another push, she forced a third finger inside herself, feeling her walls clench around her own hand. The heel of her palm pushed against her clit, rubbing it with a rough motion and with her free hand she gripped her breast through the shirt, and she felt herself rising up and teetering at the precipice. She held her breath, her eyes screwed shut - she jerkily came as she curled her fingers upwards inside herself.

Sombra sprawled out on the hard bed and stared up at the gray ceiling. She had to focus. She had to get her work done without raising any more red flags. Not until it was absolutely necessary. Pushing her bangs off her forehead, Sombra sat back up and slid her glove back on. Time to get to work.

Chapter Text


3: No Booty Calls in the Lab

The nightlife in Tehran was something else. Still considered a modest state, the youth made use of cafes and concerts, going to the movies or playing at arcades. Some would go out into the desert and light firecrackers  under the moonlight, their whoops and hollers echoing across an ancient mountainous landscape. If you didn’t want to do anything too crazy, there were always poetry readings or a dance performance, or even smoke Khansar in a hookah lounge.

Angela Ziegler however, rarely found time outside of the university’s lab to do anything other than her research. Her students left the lab as the clock struck 7 at night, some discussing their plans to haunt the night markets, while others yawned their way back to their cars, ready to settle in before having to come back the next morning. Angela didn’t take notice, instead she leaned over her research, counting numbers in her head. Her genetic recoding was doing wonders on diseases that were previously considered incurable, and universities across the globe were demanding her presence in their labs. The University of Tehran had stuck out to her in the many folders of information provided by recruiters.

Pushing up her black framed glasses, Angela peered at a student’s scrawling handwriting (they really were becoming doctors weren’t they….) and scribbled her own notes in blue ink. Suddenly, her phone buzzed at her from across the room. At first, she ignored it - she felt she was onto something. She ran her fingers through her blonde hair, tapping her temple with her forefinger. Her phone buzzed again.

And again.

“Fine!” Angela muttered to herself, and tossed her pen down as she walked across the room. This had better be an emergency. As soon as she picked up her phone, she realized it wasn’t an emergency but something she had been waiting for for ages.

“Winston?” She answered the phone, her hands shaking ever so slightly. “Is that really you?”

Chapter Text


4: Good Friends in Bad Places

Sombra’s heart nearly jumped out of her throat as she was jolted awake by an alarm blaring in her room. It was a loud whine that pierced through her eyeballs and down her spine, as if she had a hangover from 10 shots of tequila on a sunny beach with no other hydration. But no, she was still very much sober and very much lacking in sunlight. She was going to get a vitamin deficiency wasn’t she. Sombra ruffled her hair, not caring if the soccer mom pixie looked like a half outgrown mohawk and opened her door.

The alarm continued to blare, but no one seemed to be active. Not that she had seen another soul on her floor - she was convinced that there were only about 6 other people on the base. Maybe only 30 people working for Talon all together? She closed the door and pressed one hand helplessly to her ear as she opened her messages. Sure enough, there was a note from Moira.

Get dressed, meet on first floor, ASAP.

Sombra groaned as she pulled off her tank top and forced her sports bra over her head. Moira had better be getting them breakfast wherever they were going.

Fifteen minutes later, the elevator doors slid open to the hallway on the first floor, and Sombra was greeted with the sight of Moira’s back, facing Reaper and Widowmaker who looked serious (or maybe just bored? It was hard to tell) as she spoke to them. Sombra stepped out of the elevator towards Moira, her steel-tipped shoes alerting everyone in a 20 foot radius to her presence. She really needed to do something about that.

“We are ready to head out,” Moira said, barely gracing Sombra with a glance.

“Where are we going?” Sombra asked, adjusting her gloves. She looked sideways at Widowmaker, her had turned her face away from Sombra as soon as she had gotten within spitting distance. “Anyone wanna fill me in?”

“We’re heading to a different base,” Moira gestured to the group to follow her outside of the compound.

“You didn’t really answer me, did you,” Sombra frowned as she trotted to catch up to her team. Why were they all so damn tall?! Moira ignored her. “...Puta…” Sombra grumbled to herself. Reaper’s mask turned towards her. She couldn’t help a double take before she realized he was staring at her. Shugging, she nervously grinned up at him in a half hearted manner. A huff of air was thrown her way in response - a laugh? Who knew.

Another plane, another journey. Sombra settled herself next to Reaper as Moira and Widowmaker sat across from them. The plane wasn’t as big as the first carrier they had flown in, but it was bigger than the cramped dropship. Moira leaned over Widowmaker’s shoulder and began whispering to her. Sombra needed to learn how to read lips.

The plane lifted off, and Sombra turned to her companion beside her.

“Where are we headed, Gabe? You don’t mind if I call you Gabe, do you?” Sombra asked, raking her nails against the edge of the seat. Reaper ignored her. This was getting ridiculous. “Hey, asshole! ¡Estoy hablando contigo! I’m sick of you people acting like I’m some fly buzzing around your head.” She jabbed an accusatory finger into Reaper’s shoulder. “I’m part of the team if you like it or not! And if I’m constantly out of the loop, more stupid, avoidable fuck ups will continue to occur.”

Almost to her surprise, Reaper sighed, “We’re headed to a port city in Morocco. We move bases every so often to avoid detection, but also to lower travel time. Nothing as conspicuous as unmarked military jets flying miles across borders.”

“Gracias,” Sombra nodded, and looked back across the plane towards Moira and Widowmaker. “One more question for you Gabe….” He huffed at her. Did he have a breathing problem in that mask or something? “What is her deal?” Sombra waved coyly at Widowmaker, who flash her a dangerous glare.

“She is the best sniper in the world, and Moira’s pet project.”





Morocco was already a vast improvement from Belgium. Turned out, they had landed in Essaouira, a city where the sun was shining and a crisp but not cold breeze was blowing from the Atlantic ocean, carrying with it memories of Mexico’s coastal smells. They piled into an SUV that Sombra wasn’t allowed to roll the windows down in, but she pressed her face against the tinted glass to watch the port city’s medieval armements slide by. Maybe here, her skin would return to a healthy glow, the glow that had been lost in the cavernous depths of Tournai.

Even the base was more inviting. Instead of an underground bunker, it was situated in a nondescript apartment building. There were even fewer Talon guards stationed here, and they were wearing black suits, like back in Dorado when what felt like so long ago, Sombra had been escorted to her new life. The interior of the base was old, and felt almost glamorous when what she was comparing to was cement and metal hallways, if not for the extreme technical makeover. Wires and ports littered the ground, and holes had been punched through plaster to access the different rooms. Fans oscillated on the floor, trying to keep systems cool in desert heat.

Moira escorted the trio  down to a briefing room that appeared to have large windows covered with blackout blinds. “We have several points I need to go over with the three of you; please-” She gestured at the table. “Make yourself comfortable.” Sombra and Widowmaker sat down opposite one another, but Reaper stayed standing in the corner. Moira walked to the end of the table, and spread her hands on the top of it, surveying the group.

“This base is clearly different than the other’s you’ve been in, Sombra, so there are some ground rules,” Moira began, powering up a screen with the delicate push of with her claw.

“You’re telling me there weren’t rules in the other places? I could’ve been up to all sorts of things,” Sombra cracked a crooked smile. She could hear Reaper shift behind her, but no one else acknowledged her.

“As you are - amazingly enough - the least conspicuous member of the team, Sombra, you are allowed off base privileges within curfew and only if you check in and out each time.”

Oh! This was an exciting development! Prison sentence over? “What’s the curfew?”

“You are allowed off base from 1200 to 1600, unless otherwise noted, and if you do go out, we require a tracker on you.”

“Right… in case someone wants to kidnap this tall glass of agua?” Sombra snickered and gestured at herself.

“Exactly,” Moira didn’t bat an eye. Sombra’s wit was really lost on these boring people. She slouched back down in her chair. “You hold valuable information that we would rather did not fall into our rival’s hands. You are required to wear civilian clothes.” Moira continued. “Besides off base privileges, I want you to continue your physical therapy and to begin training with your teammates. Reaper will be in charge of that.”

“Got it, but - I have to mention,” Sombra tapped her nails on the table. “I didn’t finish my security reinforcement the Chief of Security had me doing back north.” If this base had local servers and drives, it would be interesting to see what was on them besides what she had already begun to dig up.

“The servers are located at another location nearby - I will give you more instruction about that in a moment.” Jackpot. “And the missions that are upcoming-” Widowmaker suddenly sat up straight, her full attention given to Moira and the screens. The abrupt movement almost startled Sombra, as Widowmaker had been stalk still since sitting down. So work was the only thing that got her going, hm? “Doomfist’s gauntlet has turned up in the Overwatch museum in Irvine, California. Talon wants that retrieved.”

“Shouldn’t we be working on getting him out first?” Reaper growled from the shadows.

Moira’s eyes peered up at him. “Talon wants the gauntlet retrieved,” She repeated slowly. Dangerously.

“Lo siento, but who is Doomfist?” Sombra asked, raising her hand. “He’s not another monkey, is he?”

“No, and I will send you the report on him later,” Moira quickly shut Sombra down. “Anyway, that will just be Reaper and Widowmaker for the retrieval. Sombra, you will be dealing with the museum security.”

“Chido, a museum heist,” Sombra grinned over at Widowmaker. “And first mission together.” Of course, she was ignored. She leaned back into her chair, and crossed her arms. In Los Muertos, people really respected her. She was fast with her thinking, her fingers, and her talking. If she had something to say, people had tended to listen. A little too much... that’s partially why she left. Yesmen were boring, but this treatment was hostile and annoying.

“We want to start this OP at 1700, so be ready to head out. Sombra, all you will be doing this mission will be providing your team with security codes to get in and out quickly and quietly,” Moira swiped an address file from her computer screen towards Sombra. She caught the digital square between her fingernails and twirled it around before loading it into her drives.

“You mean I’m not going to sunny California?” Sombra scowled, opening the instructions.

“The museum in question isn’t heavily fortified, we don’t need you on site,” Moira returned to her her own screen. “All we need are codes that can be loaded into any security walls that might need it.”

“Ok, when are you going to put me on the ground though? When can I get my hands actually dirty instead of cybersticky?” Sombra pouted. “All I’ve been doing is sitting in dark rooms watching the action through a lense.”

“In the meantime, I want you at the computer location that is about a kilometer from here,” Moira said, tossing another file towards Sombra. Sombra couldn’t help but crush it between her nails with annoyance. “That’s where you’ll finish your work that you didn’t finish in Tournai. Once that is finished, we will discuss your operations moving forward.”

“You just want me to be paler than you, that’s what this is about,” Sombra muttered scathingly as she loaded up the address into her system.

“I want you to finish your job, or there will be consequences,” Moira snapped, her hand bawling into a fist and she settled it heavily on the table’s surface with a thunk. Sombra averted her eyes, and noticed Widowmaker had been looking at her. With a small flick of purple ponytail, Widowmaker flashed her gaze back to the front of the room. “ Anything else?” Moira asked dangerously.

“Yeah, um,” Sombra halted, gathering her strength. “I was wondering if there was a way to get some of my gear that I left behind in México.”


“Uhh,” Sombra squinted at Moira. “Because I need it? I need to keep upgrading my stuff if you want to keep me useful.”

Moira’s patience was obviously wearing thin, as she bent her head with a sigh, perhaps one of defeat. “Fine. Give me a list.”

Sombra smiled inwardly to herself. She knew she was obnoxious but if it got what she wanted, she’d finally be able to use the intel she had begun gathering to upgrade her to next level.

Moira opened up new files on her screen - something that caught Sombra’s eye. Floor plans, a notice pamphlet about a talk, shots of an omnic -

“What’s all this?” She asked curiously leaning forward.

“Sombra, that is it for now, you are dismissed,” Moira said sternly. Sombra’s eyes snapped back to the silhouetted figure with shock.

“I’m being dismissed?” Sombra couldn’t believe it. Once again, she was being left in the dark. “Sostener - first: you just told me jack shit about this museum heist - who is Doomfist? and second: you are obviously about to discuss another mission. Why am I the one being dismissed?” Sombra gestured to the rest of the room angrily.

“Sombra-” Reaper growled warningly from behind.

“No! Shut up Gabe!” Sombra stood up and slammed her hands onto the table. Moira straightened, raising her eyebrows at Sombra’s display. Widowmaker’s only recognition that she was listening was a tilt of her head towards Sombra’s general vicinity. “Do you not remember Gibraltar less than a week ago? Here! I’ll refresh all of your memories: It was a clusterfuck! And you want me to be effective? You want me to be a positive addition to the team? The team I never wanted to apart of? Then you better start including me in the conversation or you are being hypocritical to dismiss me.”

The silence that ensued felt extremely threatening for Sombra, from both in front of her and behind as she felt the quiet starting to boil with an intense heat. Or maybe that was just her back heating up from the excitement. She clenched her fists on the table top, staring directly at Moira as the silence continued to seethe. If Moira so much as looked in Reaper’s direction, Sombra was 100% positive he would reach for her spine and rip it out with his silver claws right there.

“Alright,” Moira finally shrugged, her calm obviously a mask for something much more sinister. “You can stay.”

“Thank you,” Sombra sat back down and clutched her jacket hem in an attempt to steady her hands. Glancing around, she was startled to see Widowmaker giving her a piercing stare once again. It wasn’t a menacing I’ll fuck you up later type of stare… or maybe it was, but it wasn’t a You’re my hero for standing up against Moira… maybe it was? Her yellow eyes seared into Sombra, as if trying to see into her brain, to discern her inner thoughts. Sombra shifted uneasily and broke eye contact to look back at Moira.

“Widowmaker, in several months, we have information that tells us that Mondatta will be giving a public speech in King’s Row, London.” Widowmaker’s head whipped around as soon as she was addressed and Moira opened up a hologram of the said Mondatta.

“Oh - the omnic Gandhi?” Sombra leaned forward, her interest peaked.

“Don’t interrupt,” Moira snapped. Sombra sat back quietly. “We are already scouting the area, and we know Widowmaker will be situated on a roof several blocks away. She will assassinate him and only him during his speech. This is obviously to make a statement.”

“Oui,” Was Widowmaker’s only response.

Sombra felt her stomach fill with what felt like live snakes. Her intestines twisted and writhed. Assassination - she knew it had been in the books, always on the table, something Talon was very good at - but… she had never taken part in the gang violence of the Los Muertos and this was just that, only on a much grander scale. She had traded one small gang for one giant interwoven conspiracy gang. She wasn’t the one being asked to kill but how long until she was? And Widowmaker’s stoic - no… robotic response was colder than anything Sombra had witnessed. She had seen many cruel, greedy, and driven people who did terrible things, but a killing machine programmed to take orders without question… that was new to Sombra. Even omnics weren’t designed to be yesmen at every moment, not with the Asimov Protocols built into the base system requirements of each one. At least they were designed to question and make decisions like that - even the Uprising was different than this. That was a civil war for independence, a life threatening choice had to be made to harm another. But this…. Sombra looked over at Widowmaker. Her face was tilted ever so slightly down. Was that submission or -

“Widowmaker will be at this time, operating solo,” Moira continued, breaking Sombra out of her trance. “The only support will be the drop ship that will place her into position and then retrieve her. Otherwise that is it for now.” Moira kept referring to Widowmaker as if she wasn’t there, instead addressing Reaper who was leaned up against the wall, disinterested.

“We’re all dismissed, right? Not just me?” Sombra asked.

“Yes, Sombra, everyone is dismissed,” Moira sighed exasperatedly, just like Sombra’s grade school teachers. “I will be sending you a briefing on the museum soon. Reaper is group leader on this, you will listen to his orders.”

Sombra stood at the same time as Widowmaker and began to walk quickly towards the door.

“One more thing. Your rooms are on the third floor. I want training to begin soon. We need this team to be a functioning unit,” Moira said, turning off her display.

Sombra reached for the door handle without looking, her eyes still turned back towards the ominous figure silhouetted in front of glowing screens. Unexpectedly, her gloved hand connected with someone else's. Widowmaker snatched hers back quickly, glowering down at Sombra. Sombra paused, narrowing her eyes. What was this chica azuls problem? She tried to make eye contact with Widowmaker again, but she skillfully avoided her line of sight. A “hm” behind them in a gruff tone alerted Sombra to Reaper’s presence. She opened the door and Widowmaker brushed past her in a ruffled manner, her eyes focused ever forward. Sombra stepped out after her.

“Seriously Gabe,” Sombra said over her shoulder without taking her eyes off of the slender shadow walking away from her. “What is up with her?”

“I am not your friend,” Came Reaper’s typical growl. It was seriously starting to lose its impact. “I am not your equal. I am your superior officer and you will act as such,” He droned on. “You will never tell me to ‘shut up’ again.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever makes you happy,” Sombra waved her hand at him indifferently. They began walking down the hallway with its cables and blinking lights. Sombra spun around to walk backwards and looked Reaper up and down. “So, do you still eat or drink?”

Reaper paused mid step before turning his mask towards Sombra. She raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. “Hmph.” He turned back around and kept walking down the hallway, Sombra trotting to keep up.

“We’re training in 30 minutes, come up to the top floor,” Reaper said gruffly.

“Okay, guess I should check out my room,” Sombra sighed, and shook her head. “Gabe, you’re gonna have to get use to me, I’m here to stay.”

“I’m sure. Third floor, there are the stairs,” Reaper motioned to the small staircase leading up to the right.

The third floor was small and cramped with only three bedrooms and a shared bathroom with shower stalls. Fun. Did Gabe even shower? Sombra wondered absentmindedly as she opened the door with a small plaque with her call name handwritten beside it. She scanned her room for cameras. Once again, there was a microcam imbedded above the door. She quickly disabled it and looked around. The room had a twin bed and a window that looked out over the city. There wasn’t even a desk in here, only a large dresser and a side table. The only thing that made it at all interesting was a the tiled floor, colored with a geometric pattern seemingly mimicking a rug, a remnant of the past inhabitants. Sombra immediately bounced over to the window and flung it open. It was just after noon and the heat from the sun plus the low tide created a delightful smell of rotting seaweed that wafted in on the breeze.

Quickly, she wrote Moira a laundry list of the items that she wanted, located back at her hideout in Dorado. The sooner she got her gear, the sooner she could really get to work.

Turning back around, she opened the dresser. Inside, Talon had ever so graciously gifted her with some very bland street clothes. They were essentially the same clothes she had lived in after her surgery. A pair of grey sweats with a grey tank top, along with some other neutrally boring street clothes. She quickly dressed in the closest to work out gear and slipped on a pair of stiff new running shoes and trotted back outside her room. She settled herself against the wall and opened her network.

Interesting shit turning up in the news right now. Sombra opened an article - Egypt seemed to be plagued once again by the mysterious Shrike character. She should really put some work into finding out who that was…. The article also mentioned sightings of a familiar face. Soldier: 76. Sombra looked at the one picture they had of him from a security camera way back in Dorado. While she had been underground in Belgium, it seemed someone had been getting busy with LumériCo. Hm.

The door in front of her swung open, and Reaper stood, still masked, but now in less of his usual layers. His hands were exposed for the first time that she had known him, and his skin was a sickly pale color, bordering on green. Something was odd however, how his skin seemed to almost shimmer, as if it was ever so slightly undulating….

“Why are you here?” He gruffly said, brushing past Sombra who quickly turned off her monitor.

“Decided I wanted to walk with you,” Sombra shrugged. Reaper ignored her and walked up more flights of stairs, Sombra trailing behind. There were no elevators in this building, no way to get trapped in an enclosed space with Moira, Sombra inwardly grinned as she bounced up the steps.

The ‘gym’ was just a large empty room with creaking hardwood floors. So use to Talon’s unlimited expense up to this point, Sombra was somewhat taken by surprise. Maybe because they were located in the middle of a bustling metropolis, the shady organization wanted to stay just that. Hopefully the second location with the computer labs would be a little higher tech than this, or would she find a tamagotchi sitting on the floor next to instructions from Moira to do the impossible? Honestly the latter would be a breath of fresh air compared to the child's play Moira had had her do up to this point.

Suddenly, light footsteps behind Sombra alerted her to Widowmaker’s presence. She waltzed in with her forever stern look firmly set in place, her eyes scanning the room. She wasn’t wearing her usual catsuit, instead she wore regular workout gear: a pale green tank top over a sports bra, and thin tennis shoes in place of her large boots. Sombra was somewhat taken aback. It was almost stranger to see her in regular street clothes than it would be to see her in full science fiction SWAT gear.

Sombra leaned against the wall and clicked her tongue at Widowmaker. “Hey, chica, why did you get nicer clothes than me?” She pulled at the grey tank top on her stomach and the loose sweatpants that hung low around her hips. Widowmaker’s sports bra was a deep purple, and her skin tight pants matched. Unfair.

Widowmaker tilted her head sardonically at Sombra, her long purple ponytail falling from her shoulder down her back. “Maybe because I know how to get what I want,” She said caustically, before she whipped her hair back around her shoulder and marched towards the wall opposite the windows.

That was the most autonomous she had seen the robot yet, and maybe the robot had a sense of humor? Sombra felt her curiosity ever bubbling begin to heat up. Widowmaker began to stretch, arching her arms over her head towards her feet, so graceful and fluid, that Sombra couldn’t help but stare for a moment. Widowmaker glanced up at her with an arched eyebrow and Sombra felt her face warm.

“So, what’s the agenda boss?” Sombra asked, stretching her own arms across her body, looking quickly away from the figure behind her. “How are we training?”

“Have you ever done any MMA?” Gabe asked, folding his arms across his chest.

“A little,” Sombra shrugged. She had attended a class when she was around the age of twelve, when her foster family had wanted some of her energy expelled on things other than the electronics in the house; surely her body would remember enough to get her started. That and her tío had a serious addiction to lucha libre. Sombra sauntered over and began to mimic Widowmaker with a wicked grin plastered on her face. She bent over and looked under her arms at Widowmaker upside down. Widowmaker in turn, caught her eye and glowered. She couldn’t help but admire how long Widowmaker’s legs stretched, sinewy muscles flexed as she bent from one side to the next, evidence of her past career.

“Some is better than none,” Gabe nodded to himself, interrupting Sombra’s study. “First one down loses.”

“What do we get if we wi-” Sombra was in mid stretch when Widowmaker swiped her legs out from under her, and Sombra landed on her back with a heavy thud.  Next thing she was aware of, was Widowmaker straddling her side as she yanked Sombra’s arm straight up into the air in a painful pull. Sombra spluttered in pain.

“Done,” Gabe motioned to Widowmaker, and she stood up quickly and moved away from Sombra who pressed her face into the floor. What. The. Fuck. The sexy image of her and Widowmaker evenly matched in hand-to-hand combat quickly vanished as Sombra groaned and stretched her arm out against the floor, feeling her muscles already bruised from one fall. “Get up Sombra,” Reaper growled at her, and not very gently tapped her rips with the toe of his shoe. “Get up and do it again.”

“Can I get some pointers, Gabe?” Sombra said as she stood up slowly, rotating her shoulder in its socket.

“Just open your eyes and close that mouth, mouche,” Widowmaker quipped, a titter in her voice as she looked down at Sombra. “And you won’t get squashed.”

“Mouche?” Sombra angrily spat back. “What the hell is a mouche? Did you just swear at me?”

“Sombra, focus,” Reaper snarled.

She straightened shakily and raised her hands in an attempt to defend herself.

“Again,” Gabe called out.

Sombra hit the hardwood floor with a loud smack.


It was two hours of training, and Sombra felt like every part of her was bruised if not sprained or broken. She had begun to improve, her anticipation of Widowmaker’s lightning fast reflexes was better, and Gabe had finally started to give her useful tips as it became crystal clear her martial arts training from over 18 years ago had had no lasting effect. She stepped out of the room while Widowmaker and Reaper continued chatting, seemingly unphased. She leaned against the plaster wall and felt it cool down her hot back - her gear was totally overheating and making everything worse. She would have to run a diagnostic on it after her shower. Una ducha - that’s what she wanted more than anything in the world at this moment. That and to never look at Widowmaker’s taunting grin or hear Gabe’s sighs of frustration.

Sombra slowly made her way back down the stairs, more aware of her kneecaps than she had ever been in her life before. The bathroom was narrow, with two stalls for showers, and two for toilets. There was a tiny sink with a dirty mirror hanging over it, and the fluorescent light buzzed overhead. She chose a shower stall at random and stripped down quickly while sticking her hand under the faucet head and found that after a few minutes the water wasn’t heating up more than a few degrees above lukewarm. Sombra stepped under the stream and leaned against the tiled wall.

Did they really expect her to become a super agent? She just wanted to be a super hacker, not James Bond or Luke Skywalker. She was obviously much more of a Lando type. But at the same time she did not want to become a desk jockey. Which so far was basically all she had been used as. And would always be. She was too tired to even think.

The door to the bathroom sung open with a creak and Sombra could hear the light footsteps of Widowmaker moving towards the other shower stall next to hers. Sombra listened to her pull off her clothes, and despite herself, she peaked out the crack in the curtain to see Widowmaker dump her things into an unceremonious pile far away from Sombra’s own garments. She inched forward, and pressed hand against the wall of the stall, her mind fuzzy. What was she doing exactly? She could only see an ankle, hair flowing over shoulders, a long, slender arm, a tattoo visible -

“If you keep staring, I’ll have to file a complaint against you,” Widowmaker dryly said as she started to pull off her sports bra.

Sombra quickly turned to face the wall, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. Why was she blushing, why was her back heating up to the point she could almost hear the nanobots whirring?

...Why did she want to turn and look some more?

As soon as she heard the faucet begin its splutter next to her, Sombra quickly shut off her own and grabbed a towel and briskly wrapped it around herself. She paused for a second, hand on the door, her mind running in circles. Did she want to tell Widowmaker something? What would she even say? After a millisecond of hesitation, Sombra opened the door and headed back towards her room.


Sitting on her bed, with only the towel wrapped loosely around herself, Sombra slipped on her glove and powered up her system, beginning where she had left off when Reaper had interrupted her. She needed to distract her tired, fogged mind. So some conspiracy hunting should do the trick. Shrike, 76… Her curiosity was peaked. Did they know each other? Why was the former Overwatch super soldier in Egypt anyway? Wreaking havoc for revenge seemed a little blasé and cliché, but then again maybe the white boy was just that. She loaded up her copy of Athena’s list, and scrolled until she found Jack Morrison, AKA Soldier: 76. Blah blah blah. Boring. He was declared M.I.A. in the Overwatch records - no body had been recovered after the explosion. Shrike though… that was an interesting character. Something was starting to click when looking at the pair of them together….

Sombra scrolled through the database. If her hunch was correct, then Shrike would have been an old Overwatch agent. But the mask and the huge list of missing Overwatch agents made the puzzle fall to pieces before she had even started. Sombra sighed. Well, 76 was close at hand and she wanted to know what he had been doing in Dorado.

It took about an hour of digging and sifting through data to find his comlink over the web. Having his approximate location had made the job so much easier, Sombra sighed, leaning back into the pillow, her towel discarded to the side, her exposed skin appreciative of the warm dry air surrounding her. She quickly typed a message and sent it to the soldier.

>>Hello Jack. You’ve caught my interest with your little stunt at the LumériCo plant. Care to divulge a little more? I might have something to offer in return. 

Sombra closed her messages. It would probably take some time before she got a response, if he even gave her one. The warmth of the sun streaming through her open window, and the white noise of the street below, coupled with her aching body, found Sombra’s eyes growing heavy.


A bang on her door jolted Sombra awake from where she had sprawled out on her bed, the towel completely hanging off of her. She sat up and rubbed her cheek, checking the time.

“Sombra,” Came Reaper’s telltale gruff voice. “We need those security codes before we leave in an hour. Get on it.”

“Okay, jefe,” Sombra grumbled. She stood and slipped on a clean pair of shorts and a tank top that she was more than likely going to continue sleeping in later that night. Fluffing up the pillows, Sombra adjusted her glove and began to work. With the information that Moira had provided, Sombra took less than ten minutes to hack into the museum’s local systems and begin gathering the necessary files. How fucking boring as usual.

Moira was a real bitch. Talon was a real bitch! Her anger flared as she continued her typing. She felt like a serf, forced to repay her debt to the witch that had healed her in ways that surely meant death by tedium. When she had hacked into Talon’s mainframes to get their agents info, to get Moira’s attention, she had daydreamed about her job as a super agent.

She would lay in her cot in her small one room apartment in Dorado, listening to the sounds of Los Muertos members tagging every surface they could get their hands on, thinking about how she was going to leave this shitty life behind, how the drug lords that held onto her with their thick fingers would soon be crawling towards her, asking for mercy, asking for her to come back to them, and she would step on them like they were cucarachas, her new spine sparkling with the newest tech. Now, she sat in an even sparser room, hacking into menial terminals, without even the promise of a nice paycheck, and the dream was fading faster than she could say the words joder Talon .

Angrily, Sombra threw the code into a drive and opened her door brusquely. She went over and banged on Reaper’s door until he opened it and she tossed him the drive. Reaper seemed somewhat taken aback by her behavior but she didn’t want to hear it, as she walked back towards her room. This was it! This was her life. Pain free wasn’t as great as she thought it would be.

“Pinche Moira,” Sombra growled, flopping belly down on her bed. “Pinche Reaper.” She closed her eyes and let her mind still. When she was a kid, she was often smacked hard across the back of the head, her wrist pulled and twisted to yank her to where her tía y tío wanted her. She could still sometimes feel the burning feeling on her hands where red marks lingered. She quickly learned to quell her reactions, to bury them deep down by going blank and stony faced. She’d breathe through her nose in long drawn out breaths and stare at the floor until she felt herself calm and her relatives moved on. She did that now. When she was a kid, she quickly learned that silence was better. Better to exact some form of revenge. She sat up and opened her interface.

She had to see if she had gotten a response.

>>Who is this?

And there it was. An opening to a conversation that she would definitely be able to forge into something useful. Sombra grinned and typed back quickly. Retaliation was always better in silence.

>>A friend if you want one. But give me a little before I end up spilling. Why LumériCo? I have a special interest in them.

The soldier’s response was fast. He must have been waiting for her to write again.

>>I don’t trust anyone who hides. Why should I tell you anything?

Sombra paused, a chuckle rumbling in her chest at the irony.

>>Says the masked Soldier: 76. Here, I’ll give you a little taste of what I can provide for you on your little revenge headtrip. Ever heard of Doomfist?


>>That fancy glove of his has shown up on public display in California. Let’s just say more than fans are interested in that piece of history.

>>Should I assume you are the one interested in stealing it?

>>Reacquire is a better term in this case. And no, not me. Some other people.

>>When will this happen?

Sombra rolled her eyes. Tit for tat, Jack. Didn’t he ever learn the art of barter?

>>That’s it for now! Give me a little hint of what you’re doing, and I might be back with more!

There was a long silence. Had he left? Sometimes the give and take game was a risky one. Sombra chewed her lip, waiting.

The alert sound made her skin rise in goosebumps. The game was online.

>>LumériCo has connections to Talon, a secret underground organization that was part of the reason for Overwatch’s fall.

>>I know about Talon, and I know the dirt LumériCo has. Tell me something new.

>>The plant I infiltrated is their newest and I believe they are building something.

>>Building what?

>>Not sure, but it isn’t good. If it’s anything, it will be something with Omnic technology. Besides Talon, I believe they have connections to other organizations.

>>Which ones?

>>Possibly Vishkar Corp. I have reason to believe they want to start civil unrest between Humans and Omnics.

>>Oh very good. I will give you a reward. Pay attention to tomorrow's headlines concerning the glove. Might be an interesting tale!

>>Who is behind this?

Sombra frowned, shaking her head before typing again.

>>Why are you in Egypt?

Nothing in response.

>>Cairo is a long way from any LumériCo pyramid. Something - or should I say someone is of interest to you there?

Sombra tapped the side of her mouth, considering.

>>Wanna tell me who your new BFF Shrike is?

He must have gone offline. She had pushed just a little too hard.

She flopped back down on the bed, staring up at the cracked ceiling. A sense of guilt weighed on her. Strange. Did she really feel anything for her teammates? They had been nothing but rude towards her, so why should she care if she screwed up their mission. Anyway, nothing would probably come of her tip, considering 76 didn’t have time to fly himself back to the USA besides the fact that he was a wanted criminal.

Sombra sighed heavily and then flinched as her ribs creaked. The noise from people getting their dinners and drinks, and the shouts from a nearby sports bar outside her window began to lull Sombra back into sleep. Sounded a bit like home….



The next morning Sombra rose from bed with a groan and looked at the time. Hm. Widowmaker and Reaper would just be landing in California…. Should she feel guilty about giving out information about a secret operation? Sombra sat on the edge of her bed and hunched her shoulders while thinking. After a moment's hesitation, she shrugged to herself and stood.

As she did, Sombra instantly felt as if she had been hit by a truck. Yesterday had been bad, but this was bordering on pre-surgery pain. She ran a hand up and down her metal spine, unsure if her diagnostic had been telling the truth when it said it was working at 100%. Her tech felt like it was producing the normal amount of heat, but her skin seemed to be seared around it. Maybe she had spiked while getting body slammed over and over. Trudging over to the dresser, Sombra dressed in street clothes again, this time a pair of unflattering jeans and a gray short sleeved shirt. She ruffled her hair annoyedly and slipped on her gloves.

Outside, the quiet of the hallway seemed to be unsettled, as if someone had peered into Sombra’s room while she had clandestinely written to 76, spying eyes documenting her traitorous movements. Sombra inwardly shook herself as she quickly descended to the stairs, her fingers nervously tapping against each other. ¿Paranoico mucho?

Check out consisted of her hand being scanned by a surley Talon guard wearing a suit and dark sunglasses, reminiscent of the fellow who had taken her to the helicopter ride. Sombra winked at him as she sashayed out of the building for the first time since arriving in the city, and felt her skin light up at the morning sunlight.

Essaouira was clearly a tourist destination, with its many boutique hotels and fine dining options. Apparently where Talon was held up was an exception to the rule. While the building she had just exited was old and unkempt, everything else was perfectly rustic, obviously remodeled in the past few years. Omnics and humans lined the streets in open air kiosks, just starting to open to the public to begin selling smoothies or ornamental trinkets to tourists.

Sombra opened up the map directing her to her next location in the palm of her gloved hand. Her path would take her approximately 25 minutes walking speed to the outskirts of town, but all she wanted to do was turn the opposite direction and run towards the lapping waves of the Atlantic ocean. She surprised herself at how melancholic she felt as she turned her back on the water - she wasn’t homesick was she? No.

The further out of the downtown area she traversed, the more rugged the buildings became. Down alleyways, she could see kids getting brushed out of houses by their mothers or even an omnic, pulling backpacks over their shoulders as they headed towards school. Men sat in plastic lawn chairs and drank hot tea in the early morning sun as they chatted and gossipped about neighbors. Less foreigners, more locals. Soon there weren’t any early morning risers as Sombra walked down more sidestreets. Only the occasional moped would speed by without a second glance. Sombra turned and looked at the passing bikes. Maybe she should invest in a motorbike sometime. She’d look damn fine in an all-leather black ensemble with a cool neon-lit helmet.

Her destination loomed before her in the form of a derelict warehouse. Sombra paused, looking up at it. The rising sun had just breached the edge of the roof and cast down piercing rays, shining through broken glass windows. If she had thought Moira was the joking type, she would have thought this a prank. Nothing about this place looked like it held a series of highly advanced supercomputers. Sombra stretched her arms above her head, eyeing the building up and down. Finally, like the good dog she was starting to become, she dutifully opened the metal door and slipped inside.

Just like Belgium, she headed into the depths of the earth, finding a staircase that descended several levels to the bottom of the empty building. While the upper levels had been relatively cool in the dawn, the blast of heat felt like hell as she opened double doors and was greeted by the deep whir of thousands of processors. Sombra walked down the aisles of computer towers, and settled herself at the desk with multiple monitor displays. Cracking her fingers, she powered up the screens before her. Time to get busy.

She had an idea of what she wanted to look for, something that had come to her that night. The plans that she had taken from Winston for his Barrier Projector had resulted in some interesting finds through her study of his notes. The barrier that was created was due to a flux in space bending to create a solid surface. Sort of how light architects manipulated light into hard surfaces. Light architecture was complicated. It took a lot of energy to bend light into a solid surface, and then be able to keep that solid surface viable for long lengths of time. It allowed for amazing defeats of physics, but it was not uncostly. Winston’s barrier was very limited in the amount of time it was operational (at least in these early stages - Sombra was sure he would invent something that would last longer for less energy cost with the way he was working on it now) and had a portable power source that was about the size of Sombra’s palm. The device also did all the light fluxing on its own. Architects were needed to create hard light, but this was a single use object, and only had a set amount of code that needed to be used to execute the command. On and off, ones and zeroes..

But of course, she didn’t actually care about any of that.

She dug around Talon’s files and directories, her eyes zipping from screen to screen as she traversed the convoluted network. Ah. There was what she had been looking for. Camouflage technology. Talon, being in the business of secrecy, had a whole department on the subject matter, Sombra found. She grinned with glee as she leaned forward and began dragging files into her system.

No, what she was interested in, was how in Winston’s notes about his device, the barrier seemed to refract light in a manner that created optical illusions sometimes, especially around the edges of the hexagonal shields. And that, had given Sombra a grand idea.

Just then, a video call buzzed her, making her quickly shut down what she had been gathering.

“Hola,” She said, answering the call with a cheeky smirk.

“Sombra, get back to home base right now,” Moira’s angry scowl made Sombra’s smile falter.

“Why?” She asked, frowning back. “I was just getting started.”

“There has been a problem with the mission.”

“My codes definitely worked. If anything happened with security, that’s on Reaper and Widowmaker,” Sombra lowered her eyebrows in frustration. “I won’t take the fall for them.”

“Get back here now.”

Moira hung up. Well, this would be fun.

Sombra finished gathering the information she wanted from Talon’s servers, shut down her system, and then trudged back towards base in the roasting noon sun. Why did Moira even need her if the mission had gone awry? Sombra suddenly shivered despite the heat.

No, no one could know about her nefarious dealings and Soldier: 76 definitely did not make it to California in the amount of time needed to intercept her team.

Back at base, Sombra gingerly stepped over cables and modems, making her way back towards the conference room where Moira had given her initial briefing. It was dark, with only the projector illuminating the room. On the screen was Reaper, speaking to the tall, stark figure before him.

“We don’t know anything at this point,” Reaper growled. He looked like he was strapped into an airplane, already heading back to Morocco.

“Hola,” Sombra said cautiously, settingling herself in the same seat she had occupied previously. “Care to fill me in?”

“The team’s mission was impeded,” Moira said, barely turning her cheek towards Sombra. “By Winston and Tracer, both ex-Overwatch agents.”

“The gorilla?” Sombra’s eyebrows shot towards her hairline. “ Again?” Oh shit, oh shit ohshitohshit no way. Did 76 really pull that? She coughed a little, “Who is Tracer?”

“Lena Oxton. She was apart of an experimental flight team,” Moira filled Sombra in.

“Oh yeah, I totally remember her,” Sombra said, pressing her nail into her temple. Lena Oxton, a part of Overwatch's experimental flight program. After it went wrong, her demise had been newsworthy. But her showing up months later as if nothing had happened? That had generated headlines across the globe.

“We had to retreat,” Reaper said over the live feed. “There were two witnesses, and one of them put on the glove, took Widowmaker out long enough for Tracer to grab her rifle.”

“And you left the glove,” Moira muttered while pinching the bridge of her nose. There was heavy quiet, only interrupted by the short breaths of Moira gathering herself, and clunking from the aircraft Reaper was in. Finally, Moira looked back up. “Reconvene. Widowmaker-” Reaper passed the camera to Widowmaker, who stared with dead eyes. “I want a full physical when you land, as well as a session. Understood?”

“Oui,” Widowmaker nodded. Moira terminated the feed.

“Soo,” Sombra broke the silence. “I guess that happened.” She ran her hand along the top of the tables shiny surface. “Am I free to go?”

“Yes,” Moira muttered, fingernails still pressing into her jaw.

Sombra stood, ready to leave, but Moira suddenly turned towards her and dropped her hand. “Actually, I wanted to tell you, we got the items you requested for your tech. It’s been put in the lab, second floor.”

“Oh, thanks!” Sombra grinned at Moira. “I think you’ll like the improvements I have in mind.”

“I have no doubt,” Moira suddenly sounded tired.  

Sombra darted out of the conference room and jogged up the stairs to the second floor. The lab in question was a room only slightly bigger than her bedroom, with a work table and computer station, an old 3D printer in one corner, and in the other corner was a strange device. Sombra saw the box of her gear sitting on the table, but her curiosity got the better of her. She stepped closer to the uncomfortable looking chair, despite its padding, and the helmet like device that hung above it from the ceiling, with thousands of wires running back to the computer. Sombra reached out and and touched the wires, that streamed down like thick corded hair, and tipped the helmet back to look inside.

Inside, were hundreds of tiny needles, all about 2 centimeters in length. At the back of the helmet was a longer, thicker needle that would most likely drive into the brain stem. Sombra felt the hairs on the back of her neck rise, her alarm rising. What kind of horror show was Talon putting on? She dropped the helmet and retreated towards her box, turning her back on what could only be a torture device.

To her dismay and frustration, the contents of her box were a haphazard mess. This would take a little while. And all she wanted was her headgear! She needed coffee.

Finally, coffee in hand (it had taken her some time to find the machine, despite the base being small and very vertical), she got to work. There was something meditative about untangling wires, and resorting drives and cartridges. It put her mind to ease, something that she had been doing almost her whole life. Eventually she found what she was looking for:  a light purple circlet that reached around the base of her skull. Now, time to upgrade.

After an hour of diligent work, a chirp from her notifications alerted her to a message. She opened it, one hand on her face, and stared down with mounting fervor at what was written.

>>Thanks for the tip. Shrike says not to trust you, but she has some trust issues.

Eyes wide, Sombra’s breath caught in her throat. She. She! Sombra pulled her feet up underneath her on the stool and intently opened her Overwatch agents list. A prominent ‘she’ that went missing, that Jack Morrison would want to reaffiliate himself with if the chance was handed to him. She scrolled feverishly.


>>Glad to see this friendship is mutually beneficial.

A pause, and Sombra wrote again.

>>Oh, and tell Ana I say hi :)


“Oh,” Widowmaker’s voice from behind Sombra made her jump. “I didn’t know anyone was using this room.”

“Araña!” Sombra gave her a crooked smile as she turned around, quickly closing her communication tab. She hadn’t realized how long she had been hunched over the table. “Glad to see you made it back in one piece.”

“Don’t call me that,” Came Widowmaker’s tart response. She hesitated in the doorway. The bags under her eyes were pronounced, and her shoulders seemed to be sagging ever so slightly. “I’ll come back another time.”

“Why, whats up? I’m just fixing my gear,” Sombra motioned to the headpiece she was working on. “Can’t we work in the same room?”

Widowmaker paused again and shifted her weight uneasily from foot to foot. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Besides, Moira will be coming soon. I’ll just let her know you’re in here.” Tired Widowmaker seemed much more timid than fully alert Widowmaker, her usual je ne sais quoi was much more subdued. Sombra looked her up and down, then turned back to her work station.

“Don’t worry, I’m almost done,” Sombra said softly. “If you just help me real fast, I’ll be out of here in no time.”

“With what?” Widowmaker’s tone took on an annoyed quality. Sombra glanced over her shoulder back at the tall figure, to see Widowmaker had crossed her arms across her chest, her eyebrows knitted.

“It’s harder to do alone,” Sombra pulled at her hair that had grown out a few inches from the first haircut to reveal the ports that existed to hold in the headgear. “I just need you to snap these back in place.” She pushed the purple plastic tech across the table towards Widowmaker.

“I’ve never seen you wear this before,” Widowmaker said, stepping closer to the table.

“Nah, it’s been a few months,” Sombra shrugged. “It took too much power and my back would fry after a few hours of having the neural network fully attached. Anyway, I just got it back today.”

Widowmaker picked up the circular device and held it gingerly in her long fingers. “What does it do?”

“Just makes everything run faster,” Sombra bent her head forward so her chin rested on her chest, allowing access for Widowmaker to start snapping in the components. “Obviously my back gear is in my spine. Goes straight in to my spinal cord.” Suddenly a shiver ran up Sombra’s back as she felt Widowmaker’s cold fingers on her scalp.

“Just push it in?” She asked hesitantly.

“Yeah, you’ll hear a click,” Sombra was glad her face was completely turned away from Widowmaker, as she felt her cheeks grow hot. Goosebumps rose on her arms. Widowmaker pushed Sombra’s hand out of the way that was holding up her hair and pressed hard into her skull. A small click and the device was set in place, encircling the back of her head. Sombra picked up her neck and stretched a little, feeling the familiar weight of the headgear back in place. “Anyway, this device lets my gear bypass certain areas and allows me to work faster by just thinking. I don’t have use as many keystrokes to get my code finished.”

“Interesting,” Widowmaker said softly. She dropped a hand to Sombra’s shoulder for a moment and they both stayed still for a fraction of a second. Widowmaker removed her hand and Sombra let out her breath she had been holding.What was happening?!

“Now I just need to turn it on!” Sombra said somewhat shakily. She reached behind her head and touched the back of her neck, where a small port was located for the headgear to connect to her back. With a forceful press to insert the device into her neck, Sombra’s back instantly radiated heat, and a remnant of the pain she once felt. “Oh mierda, voy a guacarear….” Sombra bent forward, feeling the nausea build up as her back began to work overtime, her head feeling compressed.

“What? Are you alright?” Widowmaker stepped around to the front of Sombra, her yellow eyes wary of Sombra’s reaction.

Sombra took a couple of deep breaths, closing her eyes. After a few more seconds, the pain faded and the machinery on her back began to cool. Booting up the system was always the worst. She opened her eyes and peered up at Widowmaker.

“Yeah, I’m good,” She chuckled, sitting up straight. She stretched her back, feeling everything click back into place. “Just haven’t done that in a while.”

Widowmaker didn’t respond, just stared at Sombra with unease.

“Anyway,” Sombra stood up from the stool and gathered her things. “Gracias por la ayuda, araña. The room is yours.”

Widowmaker stepped aside, and stared at Sombra as she walked towards the door. Sombra paused.

“Why do you need this room?” She asked, turning back towards Widowmaker.

“Treatment,” Widowmaker said plainly.

“Treatment? For what?” Sombra’s hackles raised again as she glanced towards the ominous chair with its helmet.

“Tant de questions….” Widowmaker’s weariness clouded her face again and she leaned against the table as if she were too tired to even carry her own weight. “I do treatments to continually maintain my reflexes, eye sight, that sort of thing.” She gestured exhaustedly to nothing in the room.

“I would love to see how you work, Widowmaker….” Sombra quietly murmured the words without thinking. “I mean,” She puffed herself up, and started to open the door, her face burning. “Super assassin and all, in action no less! Oh dios que estoy diciendo… It would just be very interesting to see!” She pushed the door fully open and slipped outside, leaving behind a confused looking Widowmaker.

She hurriedly ran back up the stairs to her bedroom and slammed the door behind her, and leaned against it, dropping her box of things to her feet. Her heart was beating quickly, and all she could think about was Widowmaker’s cold fingers on her shoulder, on her neck….

“Oh no,” Sombra muttered, putting her face in her hands.  

Chapter Text


5: Sharpshooter

Almost a month past without incident. Everyone except Sombra seemed to be moving in and out of the base. Reaper left for a week one time, and Widowmaker’s infrequent appearances outside her room just solidified Sombra’s loneliness and boredom. It wasn’t like she wanted to see Gabe or Widow… and especially not Moira, but when not even the guards would speak to her, it grew tiresome. So instead, she focused her energy on really pissing off D.Va and her team. She was officially thrown from the game 3 times, but there was no way to keep her out for good and she even got D.Va on voice chat to cuss her out, she was so frustrated. Sombra smiled and closed her eyes as Korean swear words washed over her. But that also got boring after a while.

Training sessions were sporadic as well, and Sombra was having a harder time concentrating when fighting Widowmaker since that night in the lab. She would catch herself staring at how Widowmaker move, and then get a fist to the ribs. She would walk away with so many bruises she started to look like a marble statue. But when Gabe left for a while, and if Widowmaker just decided not to show up, Sombra would sit in the empty room and try to stretch out the knots in all of her muscles alone.

Apparently Widowmaker loved to sleep, and would take frequent naps throughout the day as Sombra quickly realized when she hadn’t made it to several breakfasts in the cramped kitchen. Gabe would skip the meals as well, but that had just answered her question that he had refused to answer earlier. But she would see him skulking around the different levels, going into different rooms and speaking to Moira when Sombra was slinking around as quietly as she could on antique hardwood.

Besides visiting the abandoned warehouse, Sombra spent her time working on her new stealth prototype. Using the tech specs of previous Talon projects, as well as Winston’s notes, she worked on it tirelessly, ignoring the security job she was suppose to be doing on the Talon servers. So far it was going well… as well as could be said for an object that she would attach to her person and it could spontaneously combust at any moment.

Sombra sat on the floor of the overheated warehouse computer lab, a bunch of tiny screwdrivers, wires and scrap metal surrounding her. She had discovered a defunct 3D printer in the warehouse and brought it back to working order, and was able to design a decent looking hexagon casing for her work. The only reason she worked here and not at the main base was because 1. She didn’t want Moira looking over her shoulder every moment, and 2. She didn’t really want a repeat of the lab with Widowmaker.

A quiver ran up Sombra’s spine as she thought about Widow. It was dumb. A stupid crush. That was it. She was just an idiota. But who could blame her? Widowmaker was a perfect setup for sexual attraction. Beautiful, tall, mysterious, sullen, sarcastic, strong, deadly…. Sombra shook herself again. Esto estaba empezando a ser un problema … She had to focus on her work, not the memory of cold fingers in her hair.

After a few more tweaks, she set the device on the chair and hurried back a few yards away from it. There was still the high probability it would burst into flames and she was definitely not going to hang around if that happened. Talon had insurance right? She watched, holding her breath, as she pressed the On button.

The chair and device did nothing. Sombra’s excitement dropped exponentially as she stared despontely at the metal device sitting snuggly in the chair. She looked down at the system diagnostic running by at breakneck speed in purple writing. It was running, it just wasn’t working. With a sigh, Sombra stepped back towards the chair, gearing up to shut it back down when suddenly there was a giant pulse of energy that exploded out of it.

Sombra flew backwards, her feet lifted completely off the floor, and slammed into one of the giant computer towers. She coughed, trying to get air back into her lungs, and squeezed her eyes back open.

The chair and device were gone.

“Jodido infierno, ¿qué fue eso?” She muttered as she stood up shakily. “What the fuckkk….” Her eyes snapped completely open as she looked down at her computer system. It was completely turned off. She snapped her fingers, trying to turn it back on, but instead she felt her back slowly seizing up.

Oooh this wasn’t good.

Stiffly she turned around and looked at the computer towers. In a large circular radius, about 20 of them were completely dead. The device had let out a giant EMP burst that had totally shut down every system in a 30 foot circle, and Sombra had definitely been near the epicenter of the blast.

She reached behind herself and felt the metal of her spine. It was still operating, because in case of occasions just like this one, it relied on her own electronic pulses in her brain to stay powered, but clearly some of the operations were not at full working capacity. She was gonna have a hell of a time later…. Sombra turned back towards where the chair had been. She walked forward, looking around the corners of the rows of computer towers, but it was gone. Had it just vaporized? Good thing she hadn’t been wearing it.

She bumped into something at knee height and almost lost balance as she looked wildly around for the offending object. And then the chair flickered back into place. Sombra stared down at it.

“¡Santa Madre de Dios!” Sombra yelled, pumping her fist in the air. “No way!” She reached down and picked up the invisibility device and looked it over. Just then, all the computers whirred back on around her, and her own system sang its own little startup song, and she felt her back soften back into place. Sombra held onto the device and started dancing around the warehouse. She was a fucking genius.

After her self-congratulating party, she stopped and ran through the diagnostic review of what had actually happened. Sure enough, an EMP blast had acted similar to how Winston’s initial shield prototype would explode outwards, but she could definitely use it if she could figure out how to dampen the explosion-like quality it had. And sure enough, the light refracting abilities of the shield had worked at reflecting back the surrounding area to successfully make the object vanish. She would just need to do some tweaking and then they would be in business.

A message pinged her and she opened her video feed to reveal the angry face of Moira.

“Sombra, what the hell is going on over there?” Moira spat. Sombra quickly brushed her hair back into some semblance of tidiness, and glanced around innocently.

“¿Qué pasa, jefe?” She asked innocuously. “What are you accusing me of now?”

“Our entire system went down over here,” Moira waved her hand behind her. “Are we under attack?”

Sombra pondered how far she would lie about the incident. She was definitely not ready to reveal this new piece of tech. “Nothing I can’t handle. Everything is back up right?”

“...Yes,” Moira narrowed her eyes across the feed.

“I’ll make sure to run a system wide scan to make sure everything is in tiptop shape,” Sombra put her fingers up in the OK symbol and winked. “But I’m positive everything is fine.”

“Fine,” Moira sighed. “I’ll want a full report later of what went down. Right now though, I need you back at base.”

“Ok, jefe, on my way,” Sombra nodded, and Moira terminated the feed.


Back at base, Sombra walked into the lab where Moira was working on some notes that looked to be filled with sketches of chemical compounds. Moira glanced up and then went back to her work.

“Sombra, you will be accompanying Widowmaker to London.”

Sombra paused, recalling the mission Moira had given to Widowmaker: assassinate the peaceful omnic Mondatta. Her stomach clenched. “Why?”

“Because I told you to,” Moira flashed her eyes up at Sombra again.

“But before I wasn’t going to have anything to do with that mission,” Sombra folded her arms. “So why now?”

“I was originally going to accompany Widowmaker,” Moira sighed, and set down her pen. “But it is too high risk at this time, and since you-”

“-since I am still a shadow, I just might blend in enough to help out. Okay, but why does anyone need to go with her?”

Moira stared at Sombra, obviously considering how much she should tell Sombra at this point. Finally she relented, “You will be in the drop ship, and you will be there to pick her up. We’re dropping her off a little way from the target’s speech, and she’ll need as many eyes in the sky as we can get. Since you have been working with her more closely this past month, it is good for her to have someone around she knows.”

“Someone she can trust?”

Moira’s lip curled at the word, and waved her hand dismissively. “Someone who knows how she will react to a situation.”

“Got it,” Sombra narrowed her eyes. She could tell she was still missing an integral part of what made Widowmaker such a great sniper, but she also knew she would be pushing her luck if she pressed Moira more. “When do we ship out?”

“Tomorrow morning,” Moira said. “You’ll be hacking into the security guards comms and monitoring their channel, relaying updates to Widowmaker on the ground.” Sombra nodded. “Meet at the entrance at 0600 hours and if you could wake Widowmaker up, she isn’t answering her phone and I need her down for a session.”

“Sure thing, jefe,” Sombra saluted and headed out the door, followed by an exasperated sigh.

On the third floor, she banged on Widowmaker’s door. No answer came, and Sombra banged on it louder. Finally the sound of shifting sheets alerted her to Widow’s movement. She leaned against the doorframe and grinned up at a bedhead Widow that opened the door.

“Qu'est-ce que tu veux?” Widowmaker groaned as she saw who had disturbed her.

“Sorry, chica, I don’t speak French,” Sombra smiled sweetly up at Widow. She was wearing a tank top that left little to the imagination and baggy sweatpants that only she could make look like high fashion. “Moira said she’s been trying to call you. She wants you in for a session.”

Widowmaker’s eyes flashed with something that Sombra couldn’t place her finger on. But it was gone before she could get a good look. Widow nodded slowly, and then turned around and slammed the door back in Sombra’s face.

“Aye! I wasn’t done - “ Sombra through her hands into the air and turned away. “Whatever, suit yourself.”




She woke up a little later than she had anticipated and had to rush to put on the annoying amount of layers that was her Talon uniform. She swung by the kitchen and grabbed an orange for breakfast, and jogged down the stairway and ran towards the door, where she could see the purple flash of her teammate.

“Wait!” Sombra gasped, running towards the SUV that Widowmaker was stepping into. She paused and flipped her hair over her shoulder, watching as Sombra caught up.

“Why?” Widowmaker asked curtly.

“Moira wants me to go with you,” Sombra extended her hand to the open car door, and leaned against it. “She needs someone to keep an eye on you.” She winked and Widowmaker rolled her own eyes.

“Seriously? Baise moi,” Widowmaker hung her head for a moment and then looked back over her shoulder at the base. “This must be a punishment for failing to get the glove.”

“Oh I don’t know about that,” Sombra pushed past Widow and clambered into the vehicle. “I think I can be quite a treat.”

Widowmaker waffled about a moment, as if deciding how worth Moira’s anger it would be if she refused to get in the seat next to Sombra, but Sombra knew who would win out. After all, Widowmaker was just a little puppet of Moira’s. And sure enough, Widowmaker stepped up and into the SUV and settled herself next to Sombra.

“So what was your session?” Sombra asked, ripping into the orange. It made the car smell amazing, and she held out a piece to Widowmaker who shook her head.

“Getting ready for today,” Widowmaker looked out the tinted glass window as they drove down the narrow streets.

“Yeah, like how?” Sombra pushed.

“I get a dose of stimulants, and other medicines. My eyesight is calibrated. That kind of thing,” Widowmaker said quickly.

“Stimulants hm?” Sombra asked through a mouthful of orange. “Don’t happen to have any extra? I use to love diet coke and addy. It would get me through long nights on the computer.”

“I don’t know what either of those are,” Widowmaker snapped.

“Oh come on,” Sombra poked Widowmaker’s shoulder. “You were a ballerina, aren’t dancers obsessed with being the best, which then leads to some coca right here.” Sombra tapped her nose knowingly.

The look that Widowmaker had on her face soured Sombra’s banter. It was one of confusion, anger, and possibly fear? Sombra sat back and ate another piece of orange.

“Sorry, shouldn’t have brought it up,” Sombra said sheepishly. Moira had sent that stupid list of off limit questions, and ballet had been one of them. Obviously there was a good reason for that. Widowmaker took a heavy breath, her chest rising and then settled back into the seat with the expel of air.

“Anyway, wanna listen to some music?” Sombra asked, and hacked into the car’s audio system without waiting for a response.




London was cold and wet. They were in an MV class ship again, and Sombra was glad she wasn’t outside. The plane ride hadn’t been too long to London, they had settled in an abandoned field outside of the city, and there had been a lot of pre-op set up as Sombra found the channel that Mondata’s security team was using. Widowmaker had studied a 3D map of the location she would be setting up, and had stretched out. There was talk that the security for Mondatta had been raised due to the anti-Omnic protests occuring in King’s Row, and Sombra scoured the feeds to get placements of guards.

“You ready, chica?” Sombra asked as the time of the talk drew closer. “Mondatta’s codename is Halo, so just pay attention to that.”

“Hand me my bag,” Widow commanded, extending her arm towards a small black backpack. Sombra didn’t budge from her seat at the computer array. She wasn’t some dog to play fetch with Widowmaker. Instead, another Talon member reached for the bag and handed it over. Sombra watched interestedly as Widowmaker removed a syringe filled with a light blue fluid, and two white pills that she quickly dry swallowed. After a breath, she closed her eyes and jabbed the needle into her throat and pressed on the plunger slowly. Sombra cringed, but Widowmaker’s face was a solid stone mask. As she opened her eyes, they almost seemed to glow more than usual and she took a large breath in.

“What was that?” Sombra asked curiously.

“You know about my heart?” Widowmaker offered easily. Sombra was somewhat surprised.

“Uh, no? Should I?” Sombra cautiously looked Widowmaker over.

“My heart beats very slowly, this just helps it keep it that way in case I have an adrenaline surge.”

“So willing to spill for once,” Sombra observed. “Well, good luck.”

Yellow eyes glinted and Sombra could have sworn Widowmaker had flashed her a small grin. “I don’t need luck.”



The MV ship lifted off in relative silence. They were in a more stealth version of the plane, but it was still bulky so they had to be in and out of London airspace relatively quickly, leaving Widowmaker on the ground defenseless. As they approached, Sombra hacked into the cameras from drones, streets, and news feeds surrounding the event and loaded them up on the multiple monitors to help keep track of Widow. Sombra’s blood was starting to pump loudly in her ears as the pressure of this next mission grew increasingly close. Everyone on the plane felt the tension. Two failed missions made it imperative that this one go well, otherwise there would be very serious consequences waiting for them back in Morocco. Man, she should have hit Widow up for some of that calm juice.

Widowmaker stood at the bay doors and waited patiently, her sniper rifle slung easily over her shoulder. Finally, they were only a mile and a half away from the event and the doors opened slowly, wind whipping around inside the main cabin. Sombra’s hair sliced at her cheekbones and her eyes started to water, but she kept them focused on the silhouette of Widow.

Without a glance backwards, Widowmaker took a step forward and vanished from view.

The MV ship dipped and swung around to head back towards safety. Sombra slipped on her headset and tapped the mic.

“Hey, you make it, spider?” She asked as the doors closed tightly.

There was a pause and then with a burst of light static, Widowmaker’s voice lilted over the comm system. “Almost to position. Going radio silent.”

“Alright, well just watch out, I’m getting movement three rooftops northwest of your current position,” Sombra said as she watched the feeds. She was quickly hacking the cameras to miss the figure running silent across the rooftops, looping the feed, effectively making Widowmaker invisible, with only her small team in the sky able to see her.

Sombra took control of the small camera on the drone that Talon had launched as soon as Widowmaker had landed, and guided it to follow Widowmaker’s deadly path across the rooftops. Widowmaker made quick work of the security guards on the roofs, silently and effectively knocking them out, or even breaking their necks if she had the chance. Sombra was glad she was watching this through a screen.

“Mondatta is coming to the podium, get into position,” Another Talon agent said into his mic next to Sombra. She glanced at the news feed of Mondatta walking up to the podium sublimely nodding his head towards the large crowd cheering for him.

“Widow, the chatter is catching up to you, the security teams know something is happening on the roofs,” Sombra warned as she heard the terms ‘infiltrator’, ‘not at position’ and ‘not responding’.

All the training she had been forced to deal with with Widowmaker had really been childs play. Sombra’s mouth was dry as she watched Widow slip by in the shadows, her feet barely making a sound. A guard was in front of her, and Sombra could tell by her movements that this was much more of a hunt than just a tactical move on Widow’s part. She looked more alive than Sombra had ever seen her.

Sombra zoomed in the drone’s camera just as Widowmaker shot out her grabble to distract the guard. He had no idea what hit him. She was in and out so fast, Sombra almost thought she had missed how he was now on the ground bleeding from a head wound, but she didn’t miss the smirk that crossed Widow’s face as she glanced up at the drone.

“That’s me,” Sombra said hoarsely. “Watching over you.”

Widowmaker ignored the drone trailing behind her, and stood easily on the precarious edge of the roof. She wrapped her foot in the metal wire of the grapple, and Sombra’s throat caught again as she stepped off. Sombra hurriedly sent the drone buzzing over the roof, just in time to see Widowmaker spin comfortably in to place upside. She raised her rifle and her helmet snapped shut. Sombra wondered how it worked, and it was pretty clear that it enhanced her vision sevenfold.

Suddenly a blue and yellow streak crossed the lense of the drone.

“Widow you’ve got incoming!” Sombra said just as Tracer opened fire.

“Widowmaker, watch your shots!” Another Talon agent yelled into her mic to Sombra’s left, because as Widow had tried to shoot Tracer out of the sky, a stray bullet hit the drone and they were dark.

“I can follow her using the cams around the buildings,” Sombra said and quickly began typing, trying to catch up to the fast moving action. She felt a little helpless, miles away from where Widowmaker was facing Tracer by herself. But her fingers were fast, and she soon caught up to Widowmaker just exiting a stairwell back to the rooftops.

“Tracer is in the security comms, she’s warned them,” The agent to Sombra’s right said. “Mondatta is on the move.”

“Halo is coming in hot,” Said the crackle of the Chief of Security over the speakers in the MV.

Widowmaker stopped shooting towards Tracer’s position and ran to the opposite side of the roof and -

“I’ve lost you,” Sombra said desperately. So had Tracer apparently.

“There, roof southeast,” Left agent said pointing at the map that had a small red dot that represented Widowmaker’s tracker. Sure enough, Widowmaker had smashed into two security guards. As she ran towards the third, Sombra noticed how she shot her gun into the ground, using its momentum to launch herself to the next roof. Okay, so maybe she was one of the best snipers out there. She had made her way to opposite side she had been on and her shot of Mondatta was no longer clear.

“Tracer on your rear,” Sombra said as the blue streak flashed by a camera.

Widowmaker turned and glanced behind her and then was back over the roof, sending Tracer on a wild ride. Tracer was too quick to shoot down, but this goose chase was wasting time. Also they were moving so fast that Sombra was having a hard time catching up with the cameras, always a few seconds too slow.

She noticed the purple glow of a spider-like device on a chimney that Widowmaker had just thrown into place - ah, she had been working on it the first time they had met. Now Sombra would be able to see it in action. And she did just as Tracer ran past it and triggered the trap. It exploded in a cloud of dark purple smoke and Tracer was down.

The Talon agents cheered in the plane as the footage of Tracer sliding on her side appeared before them, her body weakened by the toxic cloud. Sombra zoomed in as Widowmaker approached the prone form of Tracer and felt her chest hitch and a jolt that went down her stomach as Widow placed a heavy foot on Tracer’s shoulder and pointed the barrel of her rifle at Tracer’s face.

Uh oh.

She was not getting turned on by this right now.

Sombra blinked rapidly and shifted uncomfortably as she grew warmer, blood rushing both up and down her body. She had to focus, but it was hard when Widowmaker’s voice spoke right into her ears.

“Such a sweet, foolish girl,” Widowmaker almost purred down at Tracer. Mierda…. She was not wishing that was her right now, no she wasn’t.

Tracer suddenly pulled a move that Sombra had only heard about but had never seen and she could feel the eyes of the other agents on her as she gasped with what could only be described as glee. Tracer, ever in a flux state of time, recalled and sent herself back in her own timestream, yards away from Widowmaker. She was back in the game.

“Grenade incoming!” The right agent yelled into his mic. Sombra could see Widowmaker looking around quickly and then she saw and shot it down -

A giant explosion erupted across the rooftop and the camera was dead.

“Damn it,” Sombra growled, trying to find another feed to hook into. She got a lock on a news camera pointed towards the explosion. Tracer was falling….

“Widowmaker, please respond,” Left agent said hurriedly into her mic, turning to look at a screen that kept track of Widowmaker’s vital signs. It had gone dark.

Sombra zoomed in just in time to see Widowmaker in the air, her rifle up, her helmet in place over her eyes and Tracer blinked out of the way just as Widowmaker pulled the trigger.

“Target is eliminated!” The Talon agent to her right cried out, and there were more cheers around the cabin. Sombra noticed her hands were shaking.

“Okay, move out, picking up Widowmaker,” The pilot called out, and they lifted off. Sombra watched the feeds of Mondatta’s lifeless body in the limousine, at the crowd panicking and crying, screams echoing across the street of King’s Row. What had she gotten herself into….

Widowmaker’s voice crackled through her headphones again, “Looks like the party is over.” Sombra felt a chill run up her spine.

The faint protesting of Tracer carried over Widowmaker’s microphone as she undoubtedly saw what had happened to Mondatta. Suddenly there was crushing static over the headphones and Sombra winced at the noise. She had to find out what was happening. After a few seconds of searching, she found a new camera to hijack and watched as Tracer crouched over Widow, her ponytail hanging over the edge of the roof.

“We have your coordinates, less than a minute until ETA,” Right agent said.

“Disengage and rendezvous,” Left agent commanded.

“Why?!” Tracer’s incredulous yell deafened Sombra for a brief second. “Why would you do this?” She sounded close to tears. The chill that had gone through her, curled in her stomach as Widowmaker let out a cold chuckle.

“Disengage, we are here!”

Sombra turned towards the opening door to see Widowmaker on the roof. Tracer turned to look at the MV but Widowmaker grabbed her and brought her close.

“Adieu chéri,” Came the hiss over the mics. And then she flung both of them off the roof.

“Widow!” Sombra stood up in shock, her stomach clenching, her hands shaking - no she was fine. Widowmaker swung back up to the roof on her grapple and picked up her rifle as she walked back to the MV plane.

Sombra sat back down and looked at her long, fake nails on her gloves, and then gripped her hands together, trying to stop the shaking. Widowmaker stepped back into the plane, and turned to look over the London horizon. After a moment she turned and passed off her rifle and was strapped into a chair. Sombra swiveled her own chair towards Widowmaker and studied her.

This act of assassinating Mondatta could be seen as an act of war. If war was on the horizon, then Sombra needed to get ready, start pulling her cards together for the final act.

“How can you do it?” Sombra finally asked when Widow was handed a headset, and watched closely for any reaction.

“Have you killed before?” Widowmaker asked, tilting her head towards Sombra, but didn’t look at her.

“Self defense, a few times,” Sombra muttered. There had been an ambush by the Colmillos Rojos against Los Muertos, a lot of heavy fire. Another time a bank heist had gone wrong and she had shot a security guard. She didn’t like it, but when it was necessary, well then, it had to be done. “That was different. This was -”

“My orders,” Widowmaker cut off, her tone dangerous.

“Hm,” Sombra shrugged and looked away. “But you know, I got a little worried about you down there.”

There was a moment of silence and when Sombra looked back at Widow, her yellow eyes were boring into her with a deadly glint. “Your emotions can make you pathetic, weak,” Widowmaker said quietly, almost dangerously. Sombra was taken aback by the harsh words, and the uncaring tone that Widowmaker was able to deliver her opinion in. She was really gonna blow past the fact Sombra just admitted that she might care for Widowmaker just a tiny bit?

“Well, fuck you too, then,” Sombra snapped back, and turned off her mic, the rest of the ride spent in silence.

She did spend the next six hours writing up a new set of codes for her little device. Tracer’s “blinking” as it was called had given her an idea.




A warm breeze. Exposed brown legs. Palm fronds swayed in an open window, casting shadows. It was dark outside and yet the sun was shining. Plumeria and orchids hung from the ceiling and scattered on the floor. Willowy fingers carrassed. Pale blue shimmered. Dark long hair flowed over her hip bones. A gasp, open mouthed silent yes.

Sombra jolted awake, and then quickly buried her face in her pillow, trying not to scream into it out of embarrassment. No, none of this was happening! She couldn’t allow it. But this was the third dream, the third night interrupted by sweat drenched sheets. The third morning that Sombra awoke with a brick in her stomach, knowing that she would have to face her again.

She was just lonely! Bored, lonely, and probably a little sad at her situation, Sombra reasoned with herself, eyes wide as she stared at the blank wall in front of her face, her teeth digging into the pillow case. She just needed to get out of here, get these thoughts out of her system. Who had time to deal with this shit? Not Sombra, that was for sure.

She rolled over after her breathing had settled, and looked out the window at the twinkling stars, the sliver of the moon still high. Another day was approaching. Another day to have Reaper scold her, Moira to work her, and Widowmaker to slam her against the floor repeatedly in training sessions. She definitely needed a distraction from her team, from Talon.

Sombra checked the camera feed imbedded in the wall, double checking that the image there had her sleeping form on a 10 minute loop, before she slipped on a light sweatshirt and creaked open her door to the wall. How quiet did she have to be? While Sombra was sure Widow wouldn’t wake up from a creak here or there, she wasn’t too sure about Gabe. If he didn’t need food, or drink, need he need rest? Probably not. So best to be quiet. Not to mention, had to stop at every camera she detected to insert empty hallway footage so no one, not even Moira would see her shadow cross the feeds.

She wasn’t 100% sure where she was headed, she just knew she needed to get some fresh air. Talon guards were stationed on the bottom level, keeping people out as well as in. So up seemed to be the only option. The top floor, where the large empty room was, with its evil hard floors, also had another doorway right next to the staircase.

Scaling the steps two at a time, Sombra reached the top floor and swung open the second door. Sure enough, her hunch had been correct. The interior was just a storage closet, with an old broom and buckets, as well as extra cable and wiring. Glancing up, there was what she was hoping to find: an extendable ladder and trap door for roof access. She had to jump a few times, cursing her short height to reach the string that would pull down the ladder, but eventually she got it and hoisted herself out into the warm night air.

She could see the ocean. Just a little bit of it, but enough to make her stomach clench and her fingers involuntarily curl as she looked over the edge of the roof. Yellow lights highlighted stuccoed buildings and she could even see the famous Essaouira Ramparts off to her left. Below her in the silent street, shadows of cats whisked by silently, undoubtedly on the hunt. Sombra breathed in the salt air for a moment, running her hands through her hair, and closed her eyes. After a few minutes of standing, she sat, legs crossed, and opened her interface to mess around on the web. She checked news from México, and couldn’t help but chuckle at the gang violence between Los Muertos and Colmillos Rojos (was she seriously starting to miss those petty arguments?), and more unrest was noted surrounding plans of another LumériCo power plant (how many pyramids did one company need? Was it compensation for something? It was definitely compensating for something). She then opened the news reports of Mondatta’s assassination. It had been front page headlines since it had occurred three days ago. No official leads, just conspiracy theories so far.

Sombra jumped violently as the trap door behind her slammed shut. She quickly glanced over her shoulder, and then rolled her eyes and scowled deeply, turning her face in the opposite direction.

“Dios, you’ve got to be kidding me,” Sombra folded her arms and frowned over the landscape. “What are you doing up here?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Widowmaker’s resonant voice echoed back.

Sombra whipped her head back around, “I thought you slept like 20 hours a day.” Widowmaker was standing by the door, a hand on her hip as she looked out over the city, wearing shorts and a light tank top covered by a thick sweater, and her hair for once hung loosely around her shoulders, the long, straight strands getting caught on her lips as the wind picked up a little bit. Sombra looked away again as soon as she noticed the red thigh tattoo.

“That’s… sort of true,” Widow relented after a moment with a note of dolefulness tinging her voice. “I sleep a lot but not well.” Her light footsteps on the gravel alerted Sombra that she was coming closer. “What are you doing up here?” Widowmaker asked again, now standing next to her.

Sombra glanced up, catching herself admiring the long legs that towered over her, and then shrugged. “Had to get out of there,” away from you, you cabrón! “And I miss, you know, not feeling caged all the time.”

“Oui,” Widowmaker nodded and then lowered herself down on the edge of the roof next to Sombra. She seemed to be chewing on her next sentence, as she looked down into the alleyway, and then back up across the cityscape. Finally she turned towards Sombra, “Why are you here?”

Sombra did a double take, “Uh… cariña, you already asked that….”

Widowmaker sighed deeply, rolling her eyes in exasperation. “I mean with Talon, petit malin.”

“Oh,” Sombra lifted her lip in annoyance at the obvious insult that she didn’t know the meaning of. “Oh you know, bucket list.” She shrugged again and looked away.

There was a pause, and then to Sombra’s surprise, Widowmaker snorted. Sombra glanced back over, and dropped her hands down behind her with a grin. Widowmaker covered her mouth with the back of her hand as she chuckled a little more,as if she was trying to hide it, and then turned back towards Sombra, her smile vanishing as quickly as it had appeared.

“Fine, don’t tell me,” She said in only what could be construed as robotic but Sombra was starting to wonder if it wasn’t a ruse. Widowmaker had been different since the successful assassination mission. She had been even faster in practice, but slept more than before. While her mood had been one of disdain, and cold disapproval of everything Sombra did after the mission, she now seemed to be returning to the slightly softer version of herself, whatever soft meant to the sniper. Widow looked back over the horizon, and dangled her long legs over the low and eroding parapet, and gripped the edge. “But you seem to really despise working for Moira.”

“Despise is a strong word,” Sombra swiped her hand as if wiping the word away. “I would say I’m very distrustful of people, in general.”

“Am I included?” Widow asked, tilting her head with a smirk.

Sombra looked at her in mock shock. “¡Obviamente! I don’t know why Moira treats you the way she does but my guess is that she has you wrapped around her little finger, and you’ll probably run to her as soon as you leave this roof to tell her all about our conversation. That, or you’re wearing a very cleverly disguised wire right now.” Sombra raised an eyebrow at Widow’s exposed legs.

She didn’t get another chuckle from Widowmaker after these statements. Instead, Widow looked away, pulled her hair behind her ear and furrowed her brow. Hm, maybe too close to home?

“Why are you up here, araña?” Sombra asked again sullenly. She drew up her knees and rested her chin on her arms.

“Don’t call me that,” Widowmaker spat. Then sighed, “I heard you sneaking out and my curiosity got the better of me.”

“That’s all?”

Widowmaker’s yellow eyes snapped towards Sombra for a brief second before she looked away again. “I’m not spying on you.”

Sombra huffed a laugh. “Sure you aren’t. De todas formas… it’s not like I would be able to stop you.”

“Your training?” Widowmaker asked into the wind. “You are shit at fighting.”


“It’s true,” Widowmaker looked sardonically down at Sombra. “You never focus. Il suffit de fermer la bouche de temps en temps.”

“What?” Sombra blinked.

Widowmaker sighed again, “You just need to stop talking so much.”

“I would have you know, chica, my mouth has gotten me out of a lot of situations,” Sombra puffed up.

“And gotten you in some.”

They sat in silence again. Sombra could not fathom why Widowmaker was sitting on the roof with her, why this demonstration of Moira’s megalomania was spending any extra breath on her, when she had been so distant and harsh after the mission. Sombra felt as if she was precariously balanced between a murderous sniper and a despondent sleeper agent. Finally she gave in.

“Alright, then I could use some help,” She asked, a blush rushing into her cheeks out of embarrassment. She never asked for help! She always figured this shit out on her own, what was she thinking?

“You’re too stiff,” Widowmaker immediately said.

“First of all, I am extremely flexible,” Sombra said defensibly. “Secondly, I didn’t ask for a critique!”

Widowmaker scowled, “And your attitude needs to be taken down several levels.”

“Anything else?” Sombra asked sarcastically.

“It probably actually does you good to be thrown around,” Widowmaker put a finger up to her mouth in a mock thinking pose. “It’s the only time I can have silence around you.”

“Okay, seriously? What is your problem with me?” Sombra stood up angrily and stepped away from the edge of the roof. She wasn’t going to be berated by Widowmaker or anyone. She shouldn’t feel this shitty about asking for help, it wasn’t like she was lowering any defenses that Widowmaker couldn’t already see. Great, now she was getting frustrated with herself.

Widowmaker turned to watch Sombra march across the roof, “My problem is that you think you are so special, so above your paygrade that you have no time to consider the team.”

“Didn’t realize you even wanted me on your team,” Sombra spat.

“Not if you are ineffective, and an idiot,” Widowmaker sighed into the wind, looking away. “I should have pushed you out of the plane when I had the chance.” Sombra felt a hot flash of anger course through her, right up her spine. This puta really went there, didn’t she? Sombra marched back to the edge of the roof stared down at the back of Widow’s head, her mind growing foggy with anger. Widowmaker turned her head just slightly, and sneered. “Are you going to do anything about it?”

Sombra felt like she was on speed or something because the next think she knew, she put her foot squarely between Widowmaker’s shoulder blades and held it there. The only motion Widowmaker made was to tighten her grip on the edge of the roof as she looked over the city. Sombra held her breath, her focus returning and she stared down at the dangerous position she had Widowmaker in. She would have thought it would feel good to be in control of Widow, but… it didn’t feel good at all.

There was a heartbeat pause, and then Sombra was thrown back across the roof, and felt her knees split open on the gravel as she skidded to a stop. Somehow she had managed to stay somewhat upright, with only one hand stopping her from doing a full faceplant. Widowmaker stood on the edge of the roof and Sombra was struck by how scary she looked in that moment. Her hair blew in the wind, her hands curled into fists, her eyes were sparking. Was that an emotion beyond annoyance?

“You know,” Sombra laughed nervously, standing back up and brushing the dust from her sweater. “I wasn’t going to do anything.”

“Of course,” Widowmaker hissed, and stepped off the edge and towards Sombra. Ok, maybe Sombra really was never in control of the situation. Widowmaker strode quickly and closed the space between them, and bent her head. Sombra could almost feel her breath on her skin, they were so close… Widowmaker licked her lips quickly. “Nice recovery.”

Sombra blinked, and took a step back with her hands up between them, “Was that a compliment? I’m shocked!”

Widowmaker’s face was a mask once again, and she folded her arms, watching as Sombra backed up. “But you are still too stiff, no follow through.”

Sombra dropped her hands and frowned, “And here I was thinking we were making progress.”

“That anger you felt,” Widowmaker said and folded her arms across her chest as she eyed Sombra’s bloody kneecap. “You need to tap into that more often.”

“Wait, you didn’t mean those things you said?” Sombra blinked, her shoulders falling.

Widowmaker gave her a scathing look. “I do find you annoying to no end, but you did good that last mission. I wouldn’t kill you. Unless of course, you betrayed us.”

“That’s… comforting,” Sombra narrowed her eyes. She wasn’t sure she was understanding what was happening between them. “I thought you told me emotions make me weak? Pathetic.”

Widow tapped her foot impatiently in the gravel. “You said you were worried about me. We shouldn’t put cares onto people that will ultimately be sacrificed for the cause.”

“The cause….” Sombra shivered in the warm night air.

“Anger is useful,” Widowmaker shrugged. “It focuses you to survive and react.”

Sombra stood in stony silence.

“You need to find a rhythm,” Widowmaker finally stated.

“I’ve got rhythm,” Sombra said defensibly. “What’s yours?”

There was another brief pause, and Widow licked her lips again, and looked away from Sombra. There was that moment where Widowmaker held back her words, deciding how much she should reveal, and Sombra studied the ticks and tells of Widowmaker’s eye movements, the way her nails dug into her arm, all within a fraction of a second. “Ballet,” She shrugged. “Muscle memory from years of practice is hard to shake.”

Sombra widened her eyes and raised her eyebrows. “Oh, we’re talking about that now,” She tried to say as coolly as possible, but Widowmaker shot her an angry glare. Sombra cleared her throat and turned away, flashing her nails in the starlight in a small noncommittal wave. “I was pretty good at dance, shuffle, hip hop, etcetera. Los Muertos was pretty pointless most of the time, but they knew how to throw parties.”

“Los Muertos?” Widowmaker repeated.

“Did Moira not give you a file on me or what?” Sombra looked back over her shoulder at Widowmaker. “I was in una pandilla, a gang.” Widowmaker shrugged in disinterest. “Anyway, I definitely have a rhythm.”

“Those dances don’t involve a partner,” Widowmaker pointed out. “With hand-to-hand, you always have at least one partner, if not more.”

“Your point?”

“Here,” Suddenly Widowmaker raised her arms up and settled herself into the traditional pose of… No, this wasn’t happening right now. Sombra involuntarily took another step back and stumbled over the rocks a little.

“You’re joking right? This has got to be a joke,” She couldn’t help the ridiculous giggle that escaped her throat, and she covered her mouth with her fingers. “I am not dancing with you.”

Widowmaker’s arms dropped a little as she rolled her whole head in frustration, but then she resituated herself, giving Sombra a meaningful look. “See me as a partner, not the enemy and things will get easier for you.”

“This feels like it’s material for blackmail later,” Sombra muttered. The wind picked up again, and Widowmaker raised her eyebrows. “Fine.” Sombra shook her hair out of her eyes and stepped close and put one of her hands in Widow’s and the other on her shoulder, as Widowmaker loosely draped her arm around Sombra’s waist. “I still feel like this is pointless,” Sombra couldn’t help the twitch of her mouth as she looked down at their feet. With no music, Widowmaker set the pace. It was slow but not sensual. They stepped together as she closely watched their feet.

“Watch me, not where you are going,” Widowmaker commanded, and Sombra instantly looked up, her chest hitching. This wasn’t happening. “If you aren’t sure of your own footing, then you won’t anticipate me.” This was a dream. “You need to see the steps before they occur.” This was so fucked up.

Sombra stared into Widowmaker’s yellow eyes, and Widow didn’t waver, instead she stared steadily back, unblinking. Sombra’s heart was up in her throat and she would be lying if she said she didn’t feel a little queasy. They continued stepping to each other’s beat, and Sombra unconsciously squeezed Widow’s hand.

Widowmaker’s whole face spasmed.

“¿Estás bien?” Sombra asked. “What’s happening?”

Widowmaker dropped Sombra’s hand and stepped away, and for the first time she looked scared. Her breathing was ticking up in speed, her chest was heaving so hard it was visibly making her collarbones move. She kept stepping backwards, but in a disoriented manner, and she stumbled over her own heels.

“Widow?” Sombra wanted to kick herself for the concern that came through her voice. She reached forward, but Widowmaker slapped her hand away. Her eyes were wild. What the hell was happening? Was she about to have a meltdown?

“Let’s get you back to your room,” Sombra motioned towards the trapdoor, and watched cautiously as Widow nodded and headed back towards the door, her breathing starting to slow once again.

They walked silently down the stairs, Widowmaker stopping once to put her hand to her head. Sombra wanted to reach out and support her, but she knew Widow would push her away, want to stand on her own. They finally made it back to her room and she opened the door and turned to shut it.

Sombra put her hand on the doorknob to stop her from shutting it all the way. “Guess I messed up your rhythm.”

Widowmaker bit her lip, looking Sombra up and down and then shut the door between them quietly.


The next morning, Moira sent them a briefing on their next mission. Volskaya Industries to take out Katya Volskaya. Sombra would be on the ground.

Chapter Text


6: Yesterday I was Clever, Today I am Wise

The world felt strangely tilted.

Like it had when the Omnic Crisis first occurred, but now it was different. She was different.

Angela sat on her porch and stared out across the mountain ranges as the sun began to set. She poured more riesling into her glass and took a sip. Her notes and lab work finished for the weekend, she finally felt she had time to relax, but all she could do was worriedly scroll through the newsfeed on her phone.

First Egypt, now London. Not to mention the attack on the museum in California. There was chatter of unrest, anti-Omnic sentiments had only just been buried a few years ago, so it was no surprise there were still threats being thrown about. But the death of Mondatta… that was different. The tides were shifting in a direction that Angela didn’t want to revisit.

She chugged the last of her wine quickly and set her phone down.

She hadn’t agreed to help Winston, though she hadn’t said no either. She didn’t know what to think of the whole idea. Bring Overwatch back? It left a sour taste in her mouth. She didn’t want to go to war again, but she didn’t want people getting hurt. She’d hurt too many people while working within Overwatch, all in the name of science. She had seen what happened to the people who kept following that path.

Angela stood and leaned over the railing of her porch and felt desert air brush like a kiss against her skin. What was she going to do? The people she would have turned to for advice were scattered across the globe, or worse. She wished Ana was still…. She shook her head and looked down at the street below. There were more cars than usual parked by the apartment complex; someone must be having a party. She watched as a young girl and guy got out of a car and hook arms before laughing their way to the gate.

Angela turned back towards her empty apartment and shut the sliding glass door between her and the outside world. Her apartment was bare. The university had provided standard furniture and she had barely packed anything besides her clothes, notes, and a few choice books. It had already been almost half a year since she moved in, yet it still felt like she was ready to leave any moment. She turned on the TV and started to unpack a small grocery bag of items for her dinner on the kitchen counter, only half-listening to the news. It had been pretty clear who had been behind Mondatta’s death, but the actual perpetrator was still up for question, so the news anchors had latched on and were going in circles with theories of who it could be.

Angela tucked her gold hair behind her ears and started to chop up carrots and potatoes, her mind elsewhere. With these strings of attacks - including Winston’s base being infiltrated, there was something different than before. Before, Talon had been relatively headon with their attacks, not really caring if they left a trail. But one thing that the news anchors loved to discuss (and Angela was getting tired of hearing) was that there was missing footage from the actual event, as if it had all been scrubbed. All those security cameras, news feeds, personal cell phones and drones - hardly anything showed what had happened. Winston had mentioned that Athena had almost been taken out by some kind of hacker. Security cameras in the museum were wiped as well.

Angela paused her chopping. Talon had a new member and they were extremely good at what they did.

She shook her head, her hair falling back into her eyes. She shouldn’t be thinking about this kind of stuff, she wasn’t in the business anymore. No, if anything, her mind should be working on the compound equation she and her students were having so much trouble with.

She heated up a skillet with some olive oil and tossed her vegetables in. As she leaned her back against the stove and folded her arms, she caught sight of the one photo she had brought with her from Switzerland. It was when she had first visited Overwatch, even before she had officially joined. The team had asked to take a picture with her before she headed back to school, and of course she had to be silly in it, making bunny ears behind Torbjörn’s head. Angela stood up from the stove and walked over to the picture, and picked it up.

Ana… Jack… Gabriel. The lost family.

“Look up Fareeha Amari, contact info,” Angela said as she set the frame back down. The TV screen changed to Fareeha’s face in military uniform glowed in the dark room. Angela never got tired of that face. She had seen it in the news a couple of times, always in association with Ana, or in the background guarding important officials as part of her job, but she was where Angela’s eyes had been drawn to. The stern mouth, strong nose and jaw, sharp eyes…. Angela shook herself.

“Close,” She waved her hand at the screen and turned back to the stove.

How many times had she done this? Opened Fareeha’s number but hadn’t called, hadn’t followed through.

The news station brought up a picture of Gérard Lacroix just as she sat down at her dining table, a plate of vegetables and roasted chicken in front of her. She stared at his face. The picture they had used was his official Overwatch photo, where he looked just to the left of the camera in full uniform, stoic. She felt sick.

Gérard was her black mark that still haunted her dreams. Angela set down her fork heavily and got back up to grab another bottle of wine. She didn’t care it was one of her more expensive bottles, and she even check to see if it was a red or white as she uncorked it with only the slightest of shakes and poured a large amount before turning back towards the TV, glass in hand. And there she was.


Angela downed the whole glass. What the fuck could they be talking about? She couldn’t even hear them talking as she lingered one last look at Amélie. It was a photo of her next to Gérard after a ballet performance, her hair was still up in a tight bun, and she looked so happy in Gérard’s arms, a bouquet of white roses so big it almost blocked her face.

Amélie was her failure.

Angela turned off the TV with another glass pressed to her lips and she felt her arms growing weak from the alcohol. She wasn’t hungry anymore, and damn was she lonely.

She opened the glass sliding door and stood out in the dark, the lights of Tehran behind her, the eeriness of the desert mountains before her. She missed flying. The party was getting louder downstairs, people spilling out into the courtyard where the pool was.

She was half way through the second bottle, legs up on the railing of the porch when she pulled out her phone. Again, she looked up Fareeha’s contact information. When was the last time they talked? They would send very infrequent texts to one another every couple of months. But really, it hadn’t been since Ana had died. Not a real conversation. Angela had started touring campuses on talks, and Fareeha had joined the Egyptian military. Now she was in private security and Angela was working on some of her best work since her swift-response suit and biotic technology. Had Winston contacted Fareeha?

She brushed a thumb over Fareeha’s photo, took another sip of wine and hit the call button.

The phone rang, and rang, and finally voicemail picked up. “You’ve reached Fareeha Amari, please leave a message with your name and number. If you want to discuss anything to do with Star Helix Security, please call the main office number. Thanks,” Fareeha’s voice was deep and smooth and… Angela felt a shiver run through her fingers. Too much to drink.

“Hey Fareeha,” Angela said hazily. “It’s Angela… Ziegler. Saw the news about Egypt, Hakim and that shrike character….” She paused. “I guess I just wanted to hear your opinion - hear from you - “ She cut herself off, chewing at her bottom lip. “Never mind, ignore this. Doesn’t matter. Just a lot has happened recently. Probably too much wine. Anyway, have a good night Fareeha.”

Angela hung up and quickly downed another glass.


Her phone was buzzing next to her head at 8 in the morning and she pushed it away angrily, her head pounding from the morning sun streaming in through the open window. She had really over done it last night. The phone buzzed again and Angela groggily sat up. She was still wearing the same clothes from yesterday, and her hair was a knotted mess. She blinked a couple of times at the phone screen, until finally it focused.

She quickly answered it when she saw the name. “Fareeha!” She couldn’t help the excitement in her voice.

“Sorry, did I wake you?” Fareeha’s apologetic voice said. “It’s almost 6:40 AM here, I was worried it was too early.”

“No, of course not,” Angela said, feeling her bones creak in protest as she stood. “Sorry for leaving that weird message last night.”

“It was good to hear your voice,” Fareeha said. “Sounded like your were having a little party.”

“Yeah, a pity party,” Angela snorted as she started the coffee maker. Her dinner from the previous night was still sitting on the table, and she quickly started cleaning up the evidence. “How have you been?”

“Busy. That Hakim business has a lot of our clients spooked,” Fareeha sighed. “We’re having to double up on almost everyone, but it’s pretty obvious why he was a target.”

“Aren’t all of your clients targets?” Angela asked, raising an unseen eyebrow. “That’s why they hire you.”

Fareeha laughed, and it was the perfect thing to hear in the morning. “Yeah, I guess so.”

“Well,” Angela said after a pause. She poured her coffee and added some heavy cream from the fridge. “It was really nice to hear from you.”

“Are you doing alright?” Fareeha suddenly asked. “You aren’t one to usually drunk dial.”

“Says you,” Angela joked, and stepped back out onto the porch where the empty bottle of wine stood precariously close to the edge of the table, and she frowned at it.

“But you said a lot has happened recently, and I can’t imagine a lot of stuff happens in a lab,” Fareeha urged Angela.

“You’ve never worked in a lab,” Angela could feel her defenses beginning to rise, shutting her in. “But, did you happen to get a call from Winston?”

There was a stunned silence. “No. Did you?” Fareeha asked, sounding shocked.

Angela leaned over the balcony and looked down at the street again. The cars from the night before were gone, the long party over. “Yeah. He wants to bring back Overwatch.”

Again another pause and Angela could tell there was hurt behind this silence. “Ah,” Fareeha finally said.

“I don’t want to do it again,” Angela muttered, looking back up at the horizon. “I know you would want to though.”

“Would you… would you like to meet up?” Fareeha suddenly changed the subject. Angela furrowed her brow.


“I could go to Tehran, or you could,” Fareeha suddenly sounded nervous, and Angela could hear crunching of paper on the other end. “You could come by Cairo.”

Yes, Angela wanted to say. Yes, I want to see you. “I have a lot of work to do here,” Angela said lamely.

“Yeah,” Fareeha said sadly. “Me too.”

“But we can chat again,” Angela offered.

“Yeah, sorry I didn’t pick up last night. I went to a club with friends,” Fareeha said. Then hastily added. “I’m usually available in the evenings though. You can call then.”

“Great,” Angela smiled into the phone. “I will.”

There was another heavy pause.

“Was there something else?” Angela asked cautiously.

“No,” Fareeha quickly answered. “No, not… Okay, yeah. I haven’t been super honest with you.”

“Oh?” Angela asked, confused. When would they have had the chance to not be honest? They hardly spoke.

“You mentioned shrike,” Angela could tell Fareeha was anxious. She suddenly lowered her voice and whispered, “I know who she is. It’s Ana.”

There was dead air between them. Angela felt her world spinning as if she had just had another bottle of wine, and her knees felt weak.

“Angela?” Fareeha asked. “Are you still there?”

“How can you be sure?” Angela said a little too loudly.

Fareeha was startled. “I… she wrote me.”

“I have to go,” Angela said hoarsely, gripping the cold metal railing before her.

“Oh, okay,” Fareeha sounded sad. “Yeah, looks like I’m getting hailed.”

Angela paused, trying to gather her breath, “I’ll talk to you.”

“Later,” Fareeha was melancholic. Angela waited until she heard Fareeha’s connection die.

She picked up the wine bottle and looked down at it. Was zum Teufel?! What was she supposed to do with this information? First Winston, now this. Angela shook her head. Was she that surprised? She had always had the thought in the back of her mind that Ana’s story wasn’t finished. Overwatch had never recovered a body. Just like Jack. Just like Gabriel…. Angela let the bottle slip between her fingers and it shattered on the porch as she turned back towards the TV inside.

There was no way in hell - was there?

Chapter Text


7: Your Fingers are Tangled in My Wires

“Why are you here?”




The words echoed in Sombra head as she stared down into the palm of her hands, where nestled her invisibility stealth device. She had managed to downsize it a decent amount, and now she was working on another aspect of it, one that had popped into her head in between sleep and wakefulness, and had jolted her out of bed to write down her ideas. But instead of working on it, she stared at it as if it wasn’t there, because her mind sure wasn’t dialed into the work on hand.

She was here because she had been broken. And Talon had fixed her. But she was still here... why though? That was the real question. Why stick around when she had gotten what she needed? No contract had bound her before, she never signed with her name, giving away her freedom like in old fairy tales. She could scrub herself practically from memories, creating unreliable eyewitness testimonies the only trace left of her.

Why wasn’t she going back to Los Muertos? Those people had been her family, had helped raise her when she dropped out of school and ran away from her tía y tío. She liked to think she had outgrown Los Muertos. All she did was hack into emails and online profiles, gathering dirt that no 13 year old should be seeing, on the so called officials of the city. So many of the members were young assholes who only got into the life to fuck hot chicks with tats and wave guns around. But the leaders, the ones who had seen her potential, had more clout than one would have thought. Revolutionaries, freedom fighters. And she thought she was better than them.

Well, she could blame the pain she was in prior to Talon on her idiot behavior.

Sombra pushed her hair (which was almost down to her shoulders again) out of her eyes and looked at her device. She was only still with Talon because she didn’t know what else to do. Yes, she wanted to find out who was behind Ojo Rojo, but she had forgotten the crucial step before that. Expose organizations and governments for the assholes they are. And that was what Los Muertos was still trying to do, and she had left them in the dust. She bit her lip in frustration, feeling a sudden tidal wave of emotion hit her as her memories returned to dark nights spent in cobbled city streets, the mission bell tolling the late hour, as she clinked beer bottles with friends, their laughter echoing off narrow alley walls.

“Estúpida,” Sombra muttered and pushed the heel of her palm hard into her eye. Focus. If she wanted to do good, then she better get to fucking work.

How did Widowmaker get in her head so easily??

Sombra stood up and placed the device down on the floor, and then walked across the warehouse and turned around to look at it on the floor. She took another shaking breath, trying to will her lungs to fill with air. All or nothing, right? She opened her interface, typed in a few extra lines of code, and then put a hand up to her chest, and felt the twin to the device meters away from her on the ground that she had strapped to herself. She closed her eyes and pressed the button.

It didn’t hurt. But it wasn’t comfortable either. At first a shiver ran up her spine and then down all her limbs, turning quickly into the static buzz of numbed flesh. She had heard rumors Moira liked using animal test subjects - why wasn’t she doing that?! Pendejo. It felt like she was being stretched, stretched into infinity, just for a brief moment in time, and then there was a flash of heat, and she stumbled forwards to find herself back where she had originally been seated.

“No… way,” Sombra whispered to herself and lifted her hands in front of her face just to make sure she still had all her fingers. This had been probably the stupidest thing she had ever attempted - messing with time phasing and teleportation tech but she had done it. She had really moved her whole fucking particle body, all her atoms and neurons from one side to the other, without taking a step. If she was still the kid who daydreamed out her bedroom window looking up at the sky that streaked with missle streams, she would have thought that she would be getting a Nobel prize in physics. But life, and war happened.

A harsh tingle ran up her body, and she quickly ripped off the teleporter and dropped it to the ground as she read through the data stream the device had created. No need to have it go haywire just yet and send her into a space between realities.

Maybe this was why she was still with Talon, Sombra reasoned to herself. She was using their resources, taking advantage of their strangely overflowing budget, and of course, weaseling her way into high priority ops to get dirt on people who would hurt her own.

Speak of the devil. A notification popped up on her screen, effectively distracting her from her profound discoveries because nobody had time for quantum entanglement when blackmail was on the dessert menu. Sombra opened the attached files with a grin. Work contracts and receipts showed some shady networking on Katya Volskaya’s part, now she just needed a few extra incriminating documents, and possibly a backdoor into Volskaya’s bank account, and Sombra would be in business.

Volskaya was an interesting target that Sombra was 100% behind taking out, but maybe just not in the way Talon wanted her to. On the surface, she was an intelligent CEO, willing to help her country at any cost. But in reality, she would only lift a finger if the cash payout was high enough. Bribery and collusion should be Katya’s middle names. And that kind of asshole was just what Sombra liked: dirty, backhanded officials ripe for the picking.

But it was still a few weeks out - Moira wanted it to happen quite a ways out from the assassination of Mondatta since Talon was all over the news as the perpetrators, and it was just as well as Reaper had decided that Sombra needed to go hard with her physical training. Before her implemented spine, Sombra had been quite agile and quick, but as the pain grew, she had definitely grown slack, but now her body was returning to its harder edges, and her stiffness was starting to finally fade. Sombra checked the time and sighed. Time to have Reaper run her and Widow to an exhausted stupor.

She stood up and dusted off her shorts and hid away her gear in the unassuming empty computer tower that sat sadly in the corner, and headed out. Well, she might as well get back into what she use to love to do just to break up the routine: parkour. She was never the best at it, but living in crowded streets in México with glowing tattoos marking who you were to every so-called authority made it so you had to get out of situations quickly. But she had fallen out of practice as her back had slowly begun to disintegrate and dissolve under black market tech.

Sombra stepped out into the desert sun and blinked away the start of water that appeared in the bright light. She stretched her arms behind her and then down to her toes, and her back satisfyingly clicked into place. She had purposefully worn the ugly standard issue running shoes Talon had provided in her desolate dresser, and despite their lack of flair, the support seemed pretty decent as she bounced on the balls of her feet.

It felt good to run outside again. Running on a treadmill with Carmina watching over her shoulder had been almost torturous but not because she necessarily disliked running. Besides tech and science, track and field had been her best subject in school. She didn’t have the patience for art, nor the restraint to stop from fidgeting during history class, but gym she could take all her energy out at once (and with the added bonus of getting to tackle her stupid cousins without getting in trouble). The salt wind from the ocean pushed against her as she ran quickly away from the warehouse and down the cobbled streets, and the sun drew out beads of sweat on her exposed shoulders. The rehabilitation and training daily with Gabe and Widow had really done wonders for her lungs as she sprinted downtown only barely short of breath. Next time, she’d set a timer to see her minutes per kilometer. As she darted past an ally, her eyes caught rusty metal of a fire escape ladder.

Sombra backpedaled and looked up at the ladder a few feet above her head. Well, if she wanted to get back into freerunning, there was no better time than now. She bounced on the balls of her feet as she looked up and then around to check for spying eyes. Brushing her hair back into a loose ponytail (she really needed to fix this hairstyle), Sombra jumped straight up in the air, her fingers stretching upwards for the metal bar above her head.

No such luck.

¡Carajo su altura! She was too short.

Sombra stretched her arms out, and one of her hands brushed the stucco wall next to her. She could do a wall jump onto the ladder. Maybe. Sombra faced the opposing wall to the ladder and ran at it with as much speed as she could gain in the tight ally. She scrambled up the wall, but her muscles stiff from non use sent her slipping back down to the dusty ground. She tried again, her feet pounding heavily into the ground and then up the wall, but again, she didn’t push off hard enough and fell back down.

Fine. If this would take hours, it would take hours.

It didn’t take hours, most likely a maximum of 15 minutes of Sombra’s palms growing raw and her nails breaking, but when she set her mind to something, she was going to get it, damn it. And sure enough, after another burst of energy she managed to twist her torso away from the wall and push her feet hard enough that she launched herself towards the ladder and caught it in her sore hands.

Sombra held on and took a deep breath. She was only dangling about 3 feet above the ground, but the exhilaration of finally managing to pull off a move she had been so good at years ago was starting to build. Slowly, she pulled herself up the ladder, her hands, arms, and chest covered in red rust as she struggled her way up another rung until her feet her under her again. She took another deep breath and then scrambled towards the roof.

Once on top, the wind hit her hard and she spluttered a little bit, turning her face away from the onslaught. Blinking away sweat, she peered across the rooftop. It wasn’t nearly as high as the building Talon was situated in at the moment, but it still gave her a nice view. She turned her head towards - someone screamed at her.

Sombra jumped so violently that her heel caught the edge of the roof, as an older woman stared back at her in horror, her hijab slipping off her hair as she yelled at Sombra. Sombra blinked again, taking in the scene of obviously a person trying to enjoy the sun in their lawn chair that was sitting at the far corner of the roof, a small umbrella casting shade, and a side table with a glass of something cold and delicious looking sitting on top. The woman was standing up now, and reaching for something that surely was about to be thrown at Sombra.

“I’m so sorry!” Sombra gasped as she dashed across the roof. “I’m sorry! I made a mistake! Mierda.” Sombra hissed the last word as she ran to the edge of the roof and looked at the gap between buildings, but there was nowhere to go now.

Sombra didn’t hesitate as she jumped and landed with a roll on the opposite roof, her shoulder scraped up from gravel. The woman was still yelling after her, but had already sat back down with a harsh sip from her glass. Sombra groaned as she held onto her shoulder, but kept running towards the next roof. Maybe it was time to get down.

Her next obstacle was the lack of a ladder conveniently placed for her to scale down. Sombra stared into the ally below, calculating her next move. With a heavy lift and drop of her shoulders, Sombra sat on the edge of the roof and lowered herself over, her fingers barely holding her body weight up. She grimaced as pain began to burn in her forearms, but she stretched herself as far as she could until her toes were touching a windowsill. She steaded herself and then let go of the roof and slid her hands along the brick surface, her face pressed into its cool sturdiness. She got herself situated and repeated the move from the windowsill and let go with a slight leap of faith onto a dirty trash can. She made a lot of noise, and she hoped she just sounded like five cats banging into the trash and not an intruder for someone to investigate.   

Finally, back on solid ground. Sombra leaned forward, her hands on her knees and gasped out the last breath she had been holding. When she looked up, a girl with big eyes and long black hair was staring at her from the streetside of the ally. Sombra paused. The girl had a backpack on and was clearly on her way to or from lunch and had caught Sombra’s last stunt.

Sombra shook her head and looked back at the girl.

“Do not attempt at home,” Sombra winked and gave her a thumbs up. The girl gave Sombra a quizzical look and then ran off around the corner. Sombra leaned backwards and stretched out her back.

She walked the rest of the way back to HQ, but her mind drifted sideways to the memory of condensation on a cold glass of something sweet and refreshing. It was hot, and she wanted that something.

A stand a block away from homebase advertised fresh fruit juice and Sombra gleefully looked over the menu. Why hadn’t she done this before?

The teenager manning the booth looked bored, but his interest was obviously peeked as Sombra - sweating, a little bloody, and with (cool) cybernetics - stepped up.

“What’s your choice?” Sombra asked, squinting at the menu behind him.

“Popular choice is mint lemonade,” He said, pointing at the dispenser. “I like the pomegranate juice.”

“One of each then,” Sombra opened her interface and flicked the credit over to his computer as he filled her order.

Both were cold in her hands as she trotted back, and as she scanned in, she took a sip of the lemonade and almost fainted at the taste - Talon was really lacking in the sweet department, and this stuff tasted like heaven.

Taking the steps two at a time, Sombra reached the dorm level and walked over to Widow’s door. She wasn’t sure what had compelled her, why Widow had popped into her head (maybe she should just hoard the juice for herself?), but she tapped the door with her toe anyway, hoping it was loud enough to wake Widow if she was taking one of her usual naps. After several more taps, Sombra resigned herself to the fact that Widow wasn’t in there. Maybe she was up in the gym?

Sombra jogged up the stairs once more, only to find the room empty. She couldn’t check the camera feed with her hands full, and she wasn’t that desperate to find Widowmaker. She couldn’t be on a mission could she? There was always some sort of notice of a team member leaving. She turned and started back down the stairs, prepared to put the pomegranate juice in the fridge when she paused on the steps.

Maybe the second floor lab.

Sombra walked up the hallway quickly, but then paused at the door in question. If Moira was in there, she’d have a lot of questions of Sombra’s current physical appearance, and Sombra didn’t want to have that conversation if she could avoid it. She pressed her ear to the door, attempting to hear anything that might clue her in.

There was definitely someone in there; Sombra could hear clicking and a soft beeping of machinery, items that were usually not meant to be left attended. It was worth the risk to see Widowmaker’s face. Sombra pushed at the door handle and peered inside.

Sure enough, Widow sat at the table, her hair pulled into a loose bun as she moved the hinges of the spider-like mine’s legs. She was wearing a loose zip up hoodie and a pair of shorts again that showed off her thigh tattoo that Sombra had to avoid staring at. Sombra swung herself around and leaned against the table, and was pleased to see Widowmaker look momentarily shocked.

“¿Qué onda?,” Sombra asked, and raised her eyebrows as she took another sip of her lemonade. Widowmaker glowered at her and then turned back toward her work. Sombra peered down at it with interest. “What’re you working on?”

“Why are you disgusting?” Widowmaker said without taking her eyes off of the tiny screw she was tightening diligently.

“Ah!” Sombra gasped, putting her hand to her chest. “You wound me. I only wanted to bring you a gift!”

“Hm? What could you have possibly gotten me that made you that sweaty? And bloody?” Widowmaker added as she finally glanced down at Sombra’s knees.

With a grin, Sombra pushed the cup towards Widow and watched her peer at it slowly. “Pomegranate juice. Locals seem to like it, and since I never see you leave for fun, figured I’d treat you to something from the outside world.”

Widowmaker shot Sombra an angry glare, her yellow eyes narrowed in vexation. “I would have thought you would have figured out by now that blue skin and yellow eyes don’t pass for normal in most places.” Was Widow hurt by Sombra’s words?

“Go on, try it,” Sombra opened her eyes wide and pleading like a puppy dog, and nudged the cup closer still. “I’ll trade. Let me take a look at your mine.” Widow’s face softened again, and she picked up the cup delicately and sipped out of the straw, all the while eyeing Sombra. “Are we training after this, by the way?”

“Non, Reaper is out,” Widow said, barely putting down the cup to speak.

“Good?” Sombra asked, reaching for the mine and pulled it towards her. Widowmaker took another small sip and then shrugged with a small nod. “Bien. Ok, I actually have some ideas for this. Do you have your helmet nearby?” Sombra asked glancing around the lab. Widowmaker nodded again, a blue of strand falling distractingly across her lips as she continued to suck down the deep red pomegranate juice. She turned and pulled her helmet from beside her and place it next to the mine. Sombra smiled as she looked down at it.

It was a sweet piece of tech: not only was it built to look badass, it was full of some of the best tech Sombra had ever seen. She glanced up at Widow and then slipped the helmet onto her own head.

The HUD lit up instantly and she finally could see what Widowmaker saw every mission. Seven circular screens depicting different areas of the room - including behind her, invaded her vision. Unused to the onslaught of information, Sombra’s eyes began to swim and she quickly pulled off the helmet. Widowmaker just looked at her with a cocked eyebrow, still drinking. The cup was half empty. Good choice?

“So, what if I hooked up the chemical compound you have in these bad boys to register on your headset, that way when someone triggers it, they become infrared even with stealth tech on,” Sombra offered, placing the helmet back down next to the mine.

“You can do that?”

“Do you really think Moira would have kept me on this long if I couldn’t do shit like that?”

“Well, you’ve proved somewhat incompetent so far,” Widowmaker shrugged. “But if you can, go ahead.”

Sombra wanted to snap back, but her brain was already in engineering mode as she popped open the smooth surface of the helmet to reveal the intricate wires and motherboard that made all the magic happen. Oh what she wouldn’t give to make spec copies of this work, but with Widow sitting right next to her, it wasn’t worth risking it at the moment.

“Why were you working on the mine anyway?” Sombra asked as she pulled at some wires and hooked up her own OS to the system.

Widowmaker broke her lips away from the straw and scowled down at it. “Saloperie! The power supply is crap, and the triggering sensor relies on it so then it doesn’t always go off.”

“Oh, that’s easy to fix,” Sombra said as she picked up the spider-like mine and turned it around in her hands. “You should have asked me sooner.”

“Psh,” Widowmaker waved her hand in disgust and picked up her drink again. It was almost empty.

After synching with the mine, Sombra nodded to herself. “This will only take a little bit of time - half an hour? I have to dig through code and then grab the chemical makeup of the compound you use in the toxin. Once that’s done, it’s pretty straightforward.” She glanced back at Widowmaker who just then finished up her drink. “Good?”

“Oui,” Widowmaker nodded and set the cup down on the table. There was a comfortable silence between them as Sombra flicked through code. “Thank you.”

“Oh? You’re welcome,” Sombra raised her eyebrows in surprise. “It was nothing.”

Now the silence was turning sticky as Widowmaker shifted on the stool in what could be interpreted as uncomfortableness. “I am disliked… to a degree here in Talon.”

“Join the club,” Sombra snickered. She glanced at Widow again and then set down the new toys. “Lo sient- I’m sorry. Yes?”

“While people find you irritable and somewhat infuriating -”

“Thanks.” Sombra narrowed her eyes.

“People tend to avoid me out of, I suppose, fear. They only see me as -” Widowmaker’s voice grew small and she bit her lip. Sombra knew they were brushing up a wall that Widowmaker wasn’t ready to breach. “Never mind. Thank you for the pomegranate juice.”

“No problem,” Sombra said quietly and turned back towards to the gadgets. Widowmaker stood up and pushed the stool away. “Uh… you can stay, if you want.” Sombra shrugged as nonchalantly as possible. She was lying to herself if she thought working alone was better all the time. Especially when someone like her could sit behind her shoulder. There was a pregnant pause as Widowmaker pondered the request, still standing with her hands lightly gripping the table’s edge.

“I won’t be disturbing your work?” Widowmaker finally asked softly, but even before Sombra could answer she resettled herself and propped her elbows on the workbench, her cheek resting heavily in the curve of her hand.

“No, it’s fine. Anyway, I don’t wanna do anything to your tech you wouldn’t want.”

“I appreciate that,” Widowmaker responded in a husky tone, and Sombra shivered - it was just the sweat drying off in the wind of the floor fans placed around the room, don’t look into it.

Sombra worked quietly, her focus back onto the code at hand as she filtered through algorithmes to make the toxin recognizable in the helmets tracking system. She passed her mint lemonade to Widowmaker to taste and she quickly sipped down quite a bit (apparently she had a sweet tooth?) and Sombra laughed as she tugged it back from her. Widowmaker’s eyes tracked Sombra’s fingers movements as she rewired the power source in the mine, but soon Sombra noticed her eyelids were drooping.

Sombra finished her work and pushed the mine and helmet away in a decisive manner, and turned towards Widowmaker. She was asleep with her head resting her arms, her back arched in an uncomfortable pose due to the height of the stool. Sombra’s breath caught. The stern disapproval that seemed to pervade all of Widowmaker’s features had vanished - not a trace. Her eyebrows were soft, her full lips slightly parted. Her hair had fallen mostly out of the bun at this point, and dark purple strands were spilling across her face and shoulders. Without thinking, Sombra reached out and gently brushed away a strand that was over her lips, and she steeled herself to swipe her thumb ever so slight across the silky skin of her cheek.

Widowmaker’s eyes opened quickly.

“Aye, sorry,” Sombra gasped quietly. When was she this flustered about a girl?? “You should probably lay down, your back will hurt if you stay like that.”

Widowmaker sat up and ran her hand over the same spot Sombra had touched, and gave her an odd calculating look. “Did you finish?”

“Oh! Yeah, should work great now,” Sombra said proudly as she pushed the gadgets towards Widowmaker, trying to hide the blush that was running up her cheeks quickly. “De nada.”

“You need a shower,” Widowmaker scrunched her nose at Sombra as she stood, helmet cradled in her arms as if it were a small, delicate animal.

“So rude,” Sombra sighed as she followed Widowmaker out into the hallway. “What will I do with you?”

“I ask the same thing daily,” Widowmaker responded tartly, and they marched up the stairs in silence as Sombra’s stomach churned.


The shower was refreshing. Blood, sweat, and dirt washed off and Sombra felt renewed and refreshed as she stood under the shower head, her ragged hair falling into her face (she needed a cut ASAP!), and she pressed her forehead against the cool tile in front of her. Her hands wandered down her body, and almost without thinking she pinched her nipples into hardness, and the tingle ran down her spine. She slipped her hand down to her curly pubic hair and tangled her fingers in it as she pressed into her clit.

The image of Widowmaker’s face bloomed across her closed eyes and Sombra’s breath hitched in excitement. She was really going there, wasn’t she. She rubbed harder until she could feel the heat between her legs grow even hotter and then she slipped two fingers inside herself as she imagined Widow slowly unzipping her hoodie to reveal she wasn’t wearing anything else, that her breasts were small but firm and so delectable that Sombra wished she could put her mouth on them. Sombra shifted and slipped another finger in, and she slowly rocked her hips. Widowmaker now shifted the shorts over that ass that was insane and stepped out of them and she wasn’t wearing underwear. ¡Joder! She wanted to fuck Widowmaker with her tongue, she wanted to worship those thighs with kisses, she wanted to kneel in front of Widow in submission, let her pull at her hair with roughness that would hurt but feel so good.

Sombra picked up the pace as she fucked her fingers into her self, crooking them anyway she could, trying to feel the building of pressure increase. She audibly gasped and reached up a hand to grip with white knuckles onto the top edge of the shower stall. Her heel of her hand was pushing roughly into her clit and she was rising - Widowmaker’s eyes were glowing in the dark, and that damn hair was spilling over her breasts and her fingers were twisting Sombra’s nipples. Sombra imagined that Widowmaker’s hot breath was on her neck as she bent over to fuck Sombra with her fingers deep inside her. What if Widowmaker bit down on her neck, marking her as her own?

Did the door just open? Sombra came with a shuddering groan, her voice undulating from low to high in quick succession as her muscles squeezed her fingers in quick succession. Oh god, someone was in the bathroom.

Sombra tried to kid herself that the weak water pressure would have covered her noises, but with hot cheeks she knew otherwise. She let the water continue to run as she could hear the person quietly working at the sink. Carajo. She would have to leave the shower at some point and the person was taking their sweet time.

Please let it be Gabe.

Sombra switched off the water and reached for her towel and wrapped it around her chest as she stepped out quietly from the stall.

Oh god.

Widowmaker eyed her from her reflection as Sombra quickly dashed past her in the cramped space. Sombra really hoped she didn’t have the superpower to read thoughts. Back in her room, Sombra threw herself face down on the bed.

If something like this had happened to her while in Los Muertos (which she was sure it had), it wouldn’t have been a big deal. She might have even gotten a quick fuck out of it. But Talon was so much more strict, Moira so much more controlling and… Widowmaker was different. Widow was really messing with Sombra’s head.

Fuck this, she was gonna sleep it off.




The very next morning, they got the call to pull out of Morocco. Moira didn’t come with the team when they filed onto the plane in the mountains of Morocco’s coastline, out of sight, out of mind. The plane they were in was the most stealth yet, sleek and unassuming, the interior was a cockpit and only a handful of chairs, and the lift off was virtually silent except for a low hum that reverberated along Sombra’s spine. Widowmaker sat across the plane from Sombra and she could feel the stare burning holes into her head as Widow caught every movement that Sombra twitched.

Sombra kept track of where they were headed, she didn’t like that Moira hadn’t mentioned it in her briefing. When she had asked Gabe, he had just growled at her and shook his head - she knew he knew. The journey took about 3 hours, and Sombra watched the landscape change from mountainous desert, to open water, to snow-capped alps and finally to a rural green landscape with lazy hills spilling across yellow fields of wheat and other grains. Patches of dark forest were their cover as the plane landed and they were shuffled into more black security vans. According to her map, they were in Bolesławiec, Poland.

The town was extremely quaint. Pastel colored buildings from eras long past stood surrounding a city square, a tall church steeple crowning the city in somewhat faded glory. Something about the town reminded Sombra of Dorado. They drove to a large building on the edge of town, and Sombra quickly realized it was a hotel. The facade was painted a creamy white and it had columns surrounding the lush entryway that was gilded with bronze and stained glass doors.

The team stepped into the hotel, their footsteps softened by luxuriant, thick carpeting and walked towards a large set of elevators - the doors a set of decorative gold filigree. Well, this was the nicest shit Sombra had ever stayed in. The soft tinkle of piano music drifted over the speakers in the elevator as Gabe inserted a key into the keypad and revealed several buttons. He pressed one labelled B3 and they sank into the ground in silence except for the music.

Sombra avoided eye contact with Widowmaker the whole way down and instead tugged at her gloves.

“So another lair huh?” Sombra asked as the elevator’s doors slid open to reveal a concrete hallway. “And here I was thinking I was finally going to live the luxury life Talon promised me.”

“We’re here to work, Sombra,” Gabe muttered and led the pair of them down the hall. It was damp feeling, and the echo of their heavy boots was beyond loud. She really had to improve her outfit before the next mission.

The hallway ended with two branches leading to the left and right. Reaper pointed down the right corridor. “Our rooms are down there. We’re staying in barracks this time.” Sombra’s stomach clenched sickeningly. Sleep in the same room as Widow? Gabe gestured down the left hall. “Briefing room is down there. Meet me in 20, I’m going to go over the timeline.”

“Moira not nosing around this time?” Sombra asked, tilting her head as if she could see behind Gabe’s mask.

“She’ll be joining up with us in about a week,” Gabe sighed and then started down the left corridor. “Don’t be late.”

“Sí señor,” Sombra said clicking her heels together and she jokingly threw a salute towards him. He didn’t turn to see it, so she stuck her tongue out at his retreating back and then spun around to follow Widowmaker who was already halfway to the barracks. It was quite small, this underground bunker compared to the others they had stayed at, but much more industrial than the antique building in Morocco.

The barracks housed six bunk beds. Widowmaker had already picked a bed as far from the door as possible, and Sombra dejectedly picked a bed on the opposite wall from her and pulled off her gloves. She brushed the long hair from her eyes and sat down on the squeaky mattress. By the doorway she noticed several suitcases, standard issue black and plain. One had a label with her name on it. Dragging it over to her bed she opened it to find similar clothes to that in Morocco, only these consisting of warmer options. She zipped up the suitcase and shoved it under her bed and looked over at Widow who had pulled out her rifle and had laid it almost lovingly on the mattress and was disassembling it. As if Widowmaker had eyes on the back of her head, she turned to look over her shoulder to glower at Sombra and Sombra’s skin erupted in an uncomfortable heat. Well, that was her queue to leave.

The hallway didn’t end with the barracks - there was another communal shower and bathroom, and a tiny kitchen with a long table just barely squeezed in. Sombra sauntered over to the fridge and opened it. Empty. She scanned the room for the typical wall-imbedded cameras and sure enough found a few and she quickly hacked the code. She didn’t mess with the feeds but it was always good to know how many little eyes were watching.

The conference room was just like any other - bigger than it needed to be with a large table, a screen on one wall, and a computer at the head of the table. Gabe was already sitting with his arms crossed - it was weird to see him stand in Moira’s position but Sombra would take him over her any day. She settled herself near the doorway and put her legs up on the chair beside her and mimicked Reaper’s crossed arms. They sat in silence for a minute as they waited for Widowmaker to arrive.

“Hey, question before we start,” Sombra asked as she fidgeted on her chair. “Does this place have the costume room like in Belgium?”

“A uniform department?” Reaper asked.

“Sure - disguise division.”

“Yes, there is but I see no need for you to get a new uniform. You’ve made changes unsanctioned to yours already.”

Sombra pouted and kicked her toes against the armrest of the chair. “But you and Widow have the best outfits. Tambien quiero ser chido.”

Reaper grumbled to himself for a minute and then finally shrugged. “It’s the level above us, but just know if you get in trouble for dressing like a clown, I’m not taking the fall for you.”

“Wow, bold coming from you,” Sombra snapped back. Just then, Widowmaker entered. She had changed out of her catsuit and was wearing gray sweatpants and a tank top with no bra. God.

“Right, let’s get started,” Reaper said and stood, turning on the screen behind him as he did. “As you know, we’ll be infiltrating Volskaya Industries in 10 days. We will be flying to Kasukkala, Finland and drive across the border to St. Petersburg. Once there, we will eliminate Katya Volskaya. I will be crowd control, Sombra you will get us in and out, and Widowmaker you will be the one to take the shot. If everything goes smoothly.” Widowmaker nodded slightly, her hands held loosely together on top of the table.

“Know anything about the security, Gabe?” Sombra asked. “I need to know how to access and do it without people knowing I’m there.”

“I’ll be sending the document briefing with all that info as soon as we’re done,” Reaper said. He threw up a picture of blueprints of Volskaya Industries. “We should be able to gain access here, in the south east part of the factory. Katya’s office is here, and she has the most security in that area. However, she does make rounds once a week with an entourage of security. That’s our only chance to get her. She will be walking from the factory back to her office. We have information concerning the timing of these rounds. Widow,” He flipped slides. “There is a few cranes we think will be excellent vantage points that you will stay relatively hidden on. Study the images, come to me with your best and second best options. We’ll make it work.”

“D’accord,” Widow said softly, still nodding her head.

“As soon as the target is taken down, we need to get out of there as quickly as possible. If we get seperated, we will meet up here,” Another map of a location Sombra had no context for, “And leave exactly 30 minutes from mark. If you miss that 30 minute window - find your own way back or we consider you K.I.A.”

“Harsh,” Sombra couldn’t help mumble.

“The mission won’t be risked because someone is late,” Gabe growled right back. “Anyway, as soon as we regroup, we will be taking another car across the border to Vodava, Estonia. We may need cover stories as transportation might be tight and we may have to stay the night. I’ve provided you both with names and ID’s to use if you have to.”

“Ok, and up until all this goes down, what are we doing?” Sombra asked.

“Training. I need you in top shape before this - you will be on the ground, moving quickly and quietly from point A to point B.”

“The hotel - are there real guests up there?” Sombra rapped her fingernails across the table, raising her eyebrow.

“We had it closed down for the day while we entered, but yes. It is a real hotel, so you are required to be discrete.”

“One last question,” Sombra said, raising her hand. “Can I go off base here?”

Reaper paused, and Sombra wondered if he was scowling in his mask. He tapped a few things on his own screen and then looked up. “Moira allows off base access for you. But if I call you to come train, you had better get down here quick.”

“Awesome!” Sombra bounced up from her seat. “I’ve got to go now, bye!”

“Sombra…!” Reaper said dangerously as she bounded out of the room.


The room was similar to the one in Belgium. There was a few mannequins with Talon uniforms on them, and a 3D printer for fabric. No hairdresser though, she’d have to find someone else, perhaps a salon in town. Scanning through the options that were already loaded onto the printer, Sombra went about creating her own design. Green had been her color of choice with Los Muertos, red was classic Talon, but now she wanted something different. After a few minutes deliberating she created a three piece set with shoes that would actually allow her to be quiet. She even included snaps to hold her new teleporter and stealth tech in place.

As the printer whirred up, and gave her an estimated time of over an hour to print everything, Sombra went back down the elevator to the barracks to change clothes. A pair of not great looking jeans, a t-shirt, and a sweater later, Sombra went up to the lobby of the hotel. A concierge near the doorway (who was so obviously a Talon security guard) took her prints and she signed out.

Winter in Poland proved much worse than Sombra anticipated. She hadn’t noticed how much snow there was on the ground in the heavily tinted SUV, and the breeze was brisk and damp through her sweater - no wonder Talon had provided so many layers in that suitcase. She was at least glad she was wearing her gloves, keeping her fingers from turning blue. Nonetheless, she persisted her walk towards downtown. Not many people were out and about, but the few that were gave her pitying looks as she shivered her way past.

Following directions on her map, she trudged her way to a salon and entered with a chime from the door. A few people sat in the chairs, but there were plenty empty for her to occupy. An omnic strode quickly towards her, an apron wrapped around their waist. Sombra nodded towards the omnic as they gestured her towards a chair, her chattering teeth starting to calm as she sat down.

“Co byś dzisiaj zrobił?” The omnic asked.

“Sorry, I don’t speak Polish,” Sombra waved her hand in apology.

“Ah! It is no problem, I can speak any language,” They chimed back happily. “What would you like to have done today?”

“Let’s shave the sides, make this mess, you know,” Sombra snapped her fingers together. “More on point.”

“I will need you to remove your additions,” The omnic said as they played with Sombra’s hair in their metal fingers.

“Right,” Sombra had forgotten her neural network had been fully attached without disruption for weeks now. Wow, Talon surgeons were no joke at their job. If she had had it kept synched up in the past, she would have had a seizure at this point. Sombra reached behind her head and unsnapped the pieces and let the flat, pink wires dangle around her neck. “Is that ok? I really don’t it want to take it out.”

“It is fine, I will get to work now.”

After a very much needed deep conditioning, the omnic took up a razor and slowly shaved away the sides of Sombra’s hair. “Actually, go all the way around, it’ll make the cables sit easier,” Sombra pointed to the back of her head. “Also, can you shave in some cool designs? I always loved that look.” The omnic nodded serenely and did as they were asked. Once the sides were gone, they got to work trimming and cleaning up the multitude of split ends into a soft shape.

“Would you like me to dye your ends?” The omnic asked, raising a strand of hair that was still showing the bleaching effects from the red streaks she had had in her hair, but now the color was quite a horrid shade of orange.

“Please, but let’s do something fun. Purple sounds like fun,” Sombra grinned into her reflection.

The whole process took a little over two hours, and Sombra was already receiving angry messages from Gabe asking where she was. But the pampering was so nice that Sombra never wanted to leave. Maybe she should get her nails done as well? Finally, the omnic spun her around and she gasped in delight at her new look.

Purple hair spilled over her shoulder, the shaved design standing out against dark hair, and as she clipped in her head gear, its glow reflected and illuminated her new dye job. “¡Wow gracias!” Sombra excitedly gushed at her reflection.

“De nada,” The omnic seamlessly said.

Sombra paid the omnic with a generous tip and stepped back out into the cold. On her walk back to the hotel, she spotted a bakery that looked like it was about to close. She stepped inside, thankful for the break from the cold and browsed the wooden shelves with the few loaves of bread left sitting on them. Turning towards the counter, several pastries caught her eye.

“Hello,” Sombra said to the girl behind the counter. “What are these?”

“These are pączki,” The girl said, pointing towards what looked like large donuts. “And these are drożdżówki with cheese, poppyseed, and marmalade fillings.”

“One of the pa- those,” Sombra pointed at the donuts. “And the cheese one. Thank you.”

Clutching the small brown paper bag, Sombra finally made it back to the hotel and took the elevator to the floor where the outfit was waiting for her. She slipped it on, dumping her soaking jeans onto the ground and twirled around. Her outfit was now a slick black and purple ensemble: leggings with light rubber-soled padding that formed around her feet perfectly - exactly what she needed to do her freerunning; a top with long sleeves a turtle neck and room to fit her back easily; and finally the jacket with its many pockets and holding places. Maybe she should upgrade her gloves as well?

Her gloves had undergone many changes over their lifetime - they use to have large, chunky attachments while in Los Muertos, clumsily attached to her spine. Then they slowly upgraded to wireless, and now she wanted to make them seamlessly apart of her suit. She input the final code into the 3D printer, changed back into her damp clothes, and trotted to the next floor.

Widowmaker was just entering the barracks, her hair wrapped in a towel and Sombra jogged towards her. “Hey, got you something!” She yelled down the hallway which was longer than it looked. Widow turned and watched as Sombra approached, and raised her eyebrows.

“New hair,” Widow stated flatly.

“Yeah, new hair,” Sombra flipped it over her shoulder and grinned. “Come to the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Sombra tossed the baked goods onto a plate, and then dug around in the cupboards. The only food item Talon had provided at the moment was old bags of black tea in a cardboard carton. Maybe left by previous agents. She filled the electric kettle with water and switched it on, and then sat at the table, kicking her bare feet up onto the chair beside her (no, she refused to ever sit normally). Eventually, Widowmaker entered, her hair still wet and making damp stains on to her gray long sleeve shirt.

“What is this?” Widowmaker asked as she sat down.

“Want something to drink? There is,” Sombra gestured at the tea on the counter. “Water or tea.”

“I suppose tea would be nice,” Widowmaker said softly as she reached for the knife to cut up the filled donut. “Why did you get these for me?” Widowmaker asked suddenly, a wall coming up between them that Sombra was working so hard at chipping down.

Sombra stood and leaned against the counter, pondering Widowmaker. She herself wasn’t sure. But Widowmaker, beyond her beauty and talent, seemed lonely. “You liked that pomegranate juice, and since you aren’t allowed off base….” Sombra shrugged noncommittally. “It wasn’t like I searched it out.”

“Is this rose jam?” Widowmaker’s focus had snapped back to the donut. “Rose is one of my favorite flavors.” She licked the edge of the knife seemingly unthinkingly, and closed her eyes. Sombra’s fingers twitched on her hips, so she turned back to the kettle and poured the water into the two waiting mugs.

“Sorry about yesterday,” Sombra muttered as she sat down, passing the mug to Widow. Yellow eyes met hers. There was a sticky silence between them, Widowmaker making no move to acknowledge what she had walked in on. “Anway, this one is filled with cheese,” Sombra said shakily, pushing the other danish towards Widowmaker.

Widow pulled her legs up under her onto the chair, and clutched at the mug of tea with long fingers, inhaling the steam. Sombra reached for some of the rose jam donut and let the sweet floral taste wash over her tongue, relishing the soft dough that almost dissolved in her mouth.

“So, why are we taking out Katya Volskaya,” Sombra asked without thinking. “Wouldn’t she be a much better resource alive?”

Widowmaker looked down into her mug, her eyes glossing over. “I don’t question what command has decided.”

“But shouldn’t you?” Sombra frowned. “I mean, she has all these resources and so much fucking money, we should honestly just try to recruit her.”

“And how would we do that?” Widow snapped. “Clearly, if that was an option, Talon would be pursuing that line of sight. But she is too imbedded in the Russian government. As you said, she has many resources, many contacts that would help her get out of a scenario like that.”

“For all the dirty work Talon has us do, they are kind of coños about actual espionage.”

You are Talon. There is no we vs. them. You are a working member of Talon, or do I have to remind you again that we are a team,” Widowmaker sounded dangerous. Maybe Sombra should back off.

“You don’t have to worry, it’s been drilled into my thick skull quite a bit,” Sombra pursed her lips in annoyance as she cut up the second danish. “Here, try this one.”

Widowmaker set down her mug and reached for the cheese danish and nibbled at it, her eyebrows still furrowed in anger. “I don’t think you have. But I guess we’ll see soon. This mission is extremely important. Volskaya Industries CEO being taken out will crash their stocks in the global market almost immediately, rendering them useless to the government.”

“That’s what you hope,” Sombra sighed. When would people learn everything on a connected network could be manipulated. “Assuming they don’t mess with the global market or something.”

There was a stony silence between them, broken only by the clink of Widowmaker’s nails on the china of the mug, taking one more sip. Finally she stood and walked towards the door. “Thank you for the desserts,” And she was gone. Sombra stuffed the last of the cheese danish into her mouth unhappily. How would this whole mission go? It seemed haphazard at best, considering Volskaya Industries was so heavily fortified. And besides, she had her own plans.




The next week, Gabe ran them hard. The gym was better equipped here, but still, they were mostly doing hand to hand combat, with just a few added extra weights thrown into the mix. Every night, Sombra lay on her squeaky mattress and groaned into her pillow as she felt her muscles knot and twist. She was stronger though, there was no debating that. And finding rhythm with Widow had made the body slams fewer and farther between. Reaper seemed pleased with her progress, but still everything hurt.

The day before they left for Russia, Moira returned with an entourage of Talon soldiers, and the team was quickly assembled in the conference room. Sombra wasn’t looking forward to facing Moira, it had been nice to know she wouldn’t run into her around every corner, be interrogated about her intentions, her work ethic, or if she was perhaps an idiot waiting to be killed. But the break was over.

“This mission is high priority. If it fails, there is a great possibility the team will be disbanded as there is no doubt your covers will be blown,” Moira said as Sombra settled herself across from Widowmaker. Covers would be blown, yes. “As you know, Reaper is on point, but Sombra you are vital to this mission, you are what gets your team in and out of that factory. Don’t mess it up.”

“Ok, I was thinking about it, but now that you said something, I won’t,” Sombra said flippantly. When would Moira break and tear out her eyeballs with her fingernails?

“You are leaving here at 0300, and Widowmaker,” Moira turned towards the shadowy figure. Widow looked up from her perusement of her hands. “Treatment in 20 minutes. Meet me on the second floor. You are all dismissed.”

“Quick question!” Sombra raised her finger, and she could see Moira visibly wince. “Where have you been? If this mission is top priority, why have you only just shown up?”

“This comes from Vialli, I’m simply overseeing the matter.”

“Vialli? Who’s that?”

“I need to work, you are dismissed.

“That kind of weird,” Sombra murmured to Gabe as they walked out of the conference room. “She stressed or something?”

“She knows I’m taking lead on this mission, why waste her time,” Reaper muttered back.

“What kind of ‘treatments’ are happening today?” Sombra spun around to face Widow, who was following quietly behind. “Mani? Facial? Do you think Moira can fit me in too?” Widowmaker’s face soured as Sombra rattled on, and she looked down at the floor. Sombra hesitated and then ducked into the barracks, whispering a quick apology as Widowmaker continued forwards towards the bathroom.

Sombra sat on the edge of her bed and ran her hand along her new shiny jacket, and looked around the darkness. She missed Morocco, and the fact that windows had featured prominently in her room. But darkness had been her friend her whole life, the dark of night with Los Muertos camaradas, the dark under her blanket as she browsed the web without permission from her tía y tío, the dark of the basement when missile strikes landed. She could get a lot done in the dark.

So why not reach out in the dark to see if someone would respond? Sombra opened her messages and quickly typed.

>>Heyyy how’s it going?

Sombra waited as she leaned over the edge of her bed to stare at her screen. Had he moved on from Egypt? Was he in a different timezone now?

>>What do you want.


>>Why so grumpy? I just wanted to check in. Long time no text.

He didn’t respond and Sombra sighed heavily. Why did he like to play hard to get so much? She waited another minute.

>>Fine, I want to know if you know anything about Katya Volskaya.

>>Why would I tell you?

>>I can tell you info on Mondatta’s assassination.

>>I already know Talon is behind that.

Sombra bit her lip - of course he knew, he wasn’t under a rock. But she didn’t have much else to offer without compromising her end goals. But sometimes… maybe she could double check his ping, see where his IP was located. She quick followed his trace back to Numbani, Nigeria. Okay, that was good, he wasn’t in any position to interfere if he wanted to, and hopefully no other ex-Overwatch agents would be in the area.

>>Talon has their sights on Katya Volskaya and want to take her out. I don’t particularly want that.

>>I’m not helping whoever you are.

>>She is a classic company owner, pocketing money, forsaking the people that depend on her. She’s got the government in the palm of her hand, and she’s definitely colluding.

>>Sounds like she’d be better off dead.

>>If she’s dead, she won’t be able to point the finger of blame to someone else, someone worse.

There was a pause in the messaging and Sombra waited impatiently for his reply.

>>She has a daughter.

Sombra groaned.

>>I know that of course.

>>She has a young daughter who is vulnerable, because Volskaya thinks security is airtight. Use that against her.

Sombra pondered the thought for a moment. She use to think she would be above exploiting children for her gain but at the same time, she was fighting a little war here, and she had definitely been exploited and used as a kid to get benefits and handouts for her stupid family.

>>Happen to know the security team they use?

>>Helix Security International.

>>Thanks! Tell Ana I’ve got her number.

Well that was a lie, but perhaps soon it wouldn’t be. Anyway, she just wanted to freak the old man out. Sombra lay down on the bed and looked up news from home. Guau, esta era la polla…. All the work she had done for Los Muertos hadn’t succeeded it turned out. The CEO of LumériCo had been reinstated and none the worse. Those nasty little emails she had dug up, his bank accounts showing so much misuse, apparently hadn’t swayed the board of directors to force him to quit in disgrace.

She really needed to get Volskaya under her thumb. If she could switch allegiances from Talon to someone else with a bigger check book, she was going to take it. Or at least get the names of other dirty politicians that Volskaya liked to pay off. And Vialli, why did they want this assassination to happen? Who were they??

Sombra silently walked to the door of the barracks and peered out into the hallway, and didn’t see any movement. Widowmaker must have already gone to the floor above for treatments, and Reaper - who even knew. She needed to find a computer bay in relative obscurity. She hadn’t seen what the level B1 held, might as well as check.

She wasn’t sure why she was sneaking - she was allowed in and out of this base no problem, but having Moira back within earshot made her nervous, and now the introduction of a new mission giver wasn’t too fun of an idea either. She wasn’t wearing any shoes as she walked along the wall down the too-long hallway, and made it to the elevators. She casually stepped inside and bashed the button for B1, and felt the heavy murmur of cables pulling her up.

B1 turned out to be another hallway. But this hallway only had one door at the very end. Sombra scanned the walls and covered her traces on the cameras as she walked down, her feet only making faint padding noises as she approached the door. It was locked. Chewing the inside of her cheek, she quietly and quickly hacked into the doors keypad and after a few seconds of cycling through passcodes, the door swung open - Talon security would never be a match to her skills. There wasn’t much in the room, except exactly what she was looking for - a giant screen on the wall, a table with a keyboard, and a computer tower sitting below the desk. Sombra carefully walked to the chair and sat down and spun herself around a couple of times.

The computer powered on quietly and Sombra browsed the desktop for her access to personnel info in the darkness, her new hair almost glowing in the light from the screen. After a few quick adjustments to the system to her liking, she had level 1 access to all of Talon’s agents. But level 1 wasn’t about to cut it. Time to pull some classic DoSing.

Her nerves were spiking as she typed in her commands on her own system, connecting it to the computer before her, the hairs on the back of her neck were rising as she paranoidly looked behind her at the dark door. But no one knew she was here, so it shouldn’t be an issue. Everyone else was disposed, distracted, and she was living up to her name.

And then she had it - Vialli’s profile in her hands.

He looked smarmy. She didn’t like him. Reading over his profile, several things jumped out at her. Akande “Doomfist” Ogundimu and an omnic named Maximilien seemed to have been prominent figures in Talon’s history (Moira never did send her Doomfist’s profile. Bitch.), but when Doomfist had been imprisoned… somewhere… Vialli had taken charge and he was exactly the kind of person that made Sombra’s skin crawl. Every one of his missions were either putting government officials, company representatives, or lucrative businessmen in his pocket, or eliminating them when they wouldn’t comply. Well, that answered the question of why. Sombra closed his file in disgust, tucking her feet under herself as she browsed what else the computer system had to offer.

Security cameras were linked to this server, and out of curiosity, Sombra opened the files, her peeping tom subpersonality peeking its head out. There were different fews of several floors, including the lobby of the hotel. There was Reaper near the elevators, looking at his phone. Did he ever take that mask off when he thought no one was around? Sombra would have to catch a glimpse at some point. The kitchen was empty, so were the barracks (cool, they watched them sleep of course), and the gym only had some flashing lights of sleeping equipment. Sombra scrolled to the lobby view to spy on the guests that were also staying there, only with much better room service. People entered and exited with scarves wrapped around their faces, hats pulled down in anticipation of the chilled wind outside. An omnic concierge greeted them as they walked to the desk to check in or over to what appeared to be a bar and dining room.

The next view had Sombra twitching involuntarily away from the screen in shock.

It was the lab, stark and sterile with a stainless table with some equipment laid out on it, and Moira’s back was towards the camera, but Widowmaker was facing it in a chair, her eyes closed as Moira readied a large needle with a cable running from the other end to attach into the ceiling. The chair that Widowmaker was strapped to was similar to the chair in Morocco, but this was all new and more advanced, and there was no helmet, but as Sombra watched with wide eyes, Moira stepped behind Widowmaker and slowly pushed the needle into the based of her neck, and Widow’s eyes opened slowly and then rolled into the back of her head, and Moira stepped back, watching. The heart monitor to the side sped up as Widowmaker strained for a minute, and then slowed again. What kind of treatment was this?

Sombra clicked on audio with a slight quiver of her hand, and the room was filled with the sounds of Widowmaker’s laboured breathing. Then Moira pulled out a tablet and leaned against the table.

“Okay, we’ll go through the usual questions: What is your name?” Moira asked.

“Widowmaker,” Widow said faintly, her back arching slightly off the chair. Moira nodded to herself and checked off something on her tablet.

“Who are your employers?”


“What is your next mission?”

“Eliminate Katya Volskaya,” came the whisper.

“Good. Now,” Moira swiped her hand across the tablet. “What happened to Mondatta?”


“Ana Amari?”

“Eliminated.” Interesting. They weren’t letting her read her own file then.

“Gérard Lacroix?”

Widowmaker visibly flinched on the camera, and Sombra found herself holding her breath. The mention of her husband… Widow’s wrists twisted in the straps, her heart rate spiked and Moira stepped forward and pushed something into the IV catheter in Widowmaker’s arm, and then suddenly she relaxed and opened her mouth, “Eliminated.”

“Excellent. How do you feel?”

“Clear, focused,” Widowmaker muttered in response.

“That’s it for today, I’ll have your medicine ready before the mission,” Moira said as she stepped forward to pull the needle out of Widowmaker’s neck, and slid the catheter out. “Now-”

Sombra turned off the computer.

Her stomach churned and she pulled her legs up to her chest. She had really been fooled hadn’t she? Widow had no control over her life, she was a puppet on Moira’s fingers, and here Sombra was thinking they were making headway into something that could maybe be called friendship. Pendejo. She was here to get what she wanted done, not build relationships. With a twinge of sadness, Sombra pulled herself out of the chair and headed out of the dark room, her nails scraping against her arms.




Kasukkala was icy. Just looking out of the plane windows had Sombra shivering. She pulled the collar of her jacket up around her cheeks and peered around the dark, small plane. When she had stepped out onto the tarmac that early morning in Poland, Widowmaker had scoffed openly at her new outfit, but look who was talking, violet catsuit. Reaper had shaken his head disapprovingly. Seriously, where were these people getting off on their high horses? She looked better than both of them. Well, better than Gabe probably. Maybe. The shoes weren’t the best design, but they were perfectly quiet and functional. The uzi had gotten an upgrade as well, styled to match her outfit. No one had asked about the extra gear hanging off her belt and attached to her back, and she was ok with that. They’d find out soon enough.

Once they had landed in Finland, Gabe escorted them to a car with tinted windows, and they were driven across a small, sleepy border crossing into Russia and then down towards the old city St. Petersburg. If her friends from Los Muertos could see her passport now…. Sombra opened the cover ID passport Gabriel had tossed her in the plane and examined her name. Sabina E. Ojeda. Sabina was a nice name, maybe she’d keep this cover a while longer. She flipped the passport to the page where it had been stamped and a visa printed inside just in the off chance someone needed to look at it.

Volskaya Industries had made its imprint all over the city. Sombra watched buildings slide past to open up to a river that a giant Svyatogor robot walked along. They were calling it the Second Omnic Crisis. Crisis should be replaced with the word war at this point, having claimed over 15,000 lives in Russia. Sombra instinctively looked up into the sky to see if she could spot any missile trails, but it seemed to be a lovely, quiet, snowy day. Widowmaker jostled against Sombra, and Sombra glanced at her to see her pulling out the pills and a needle just like in London.

They hadn’t spoken in the days since Sombra had spied on Widowmaker’s brainwashing. Widow seemed perfectly content to not acknowledge Sombra except for side glances every once in a while, and Sombra kept to her side of the barracks, trying to keep her head low.

They parked in a dark alley on the far side of the factory and the city, hidden from prying eyes. Sombra held up her hand and scanned for cameras, drones, anything that could be watching. As soon as the coast was clear, they stepped out and the car drove off without them. They quietly walked a ways down the path to an open area of the warehouse, empty storage boxes littered the area and they huddled behind.

“Alright, we will be going through here, using the route we discussed,” Reaper rumbled as softly as he could. “We’ll need to split up and meet up here,” He was holding up the blueprints and pointed at some randomly designated spot. “And then Sombra you’re going to go infiltrate the security offices here.”

“Yeah that sounds all really good,” Sombra hissed back, a smirk tugging at her lips. “But I got a better plan.”

“Sombra, we don’t have time -”

Sombra cut off Reaper with a quick press on her system, and she faded away from sight. Widowmaker stood up straight and looked around herself hurriedly, and Reaper was frozen in place. Sombra covered her mouth to push back the giggle that rose in her chest. She quietly walked behind the pair.

“Tadah!” She said as she brought herself back into view. Gabe whipped around, his finger up to jab at Sombra, but she held out her arms and gave a swift bow. “Trust me, I can get in no problem, and then you two just need to follow my lead. ¿Entienden?”

“Why, why didn’t you tell us you had this tech at your disposal?” Gabe asked incredulously. Widowmaker narrowed her yellow eyes, and pulled her rifle closer to her body.

“I’m always one for dramatic flair,” Sombra shrugged and then turned her stealth tech back on. “I’ll be on the line, just hold tight.”

She quietly left the pair and entered the factory. Her heart was up in her throat, but also the excitement of finally being on the ground, of finally getting shit done was worth the nerves. Following the map, she navigated her way to the security room, and looked in the window to the single guard on duty, who didn’t look to interested in watching his cameras, but rather absorbed in his phone. Sombra quietly opened the door with a soft click, holding her breath, hoping that it wouldn’t alert the guard, but no, he was wearing headphones amazingly enough. This guy needed a demotion.

With a swift punch to the temple, the guard slumped and then slid out of the swivel chair, and Sombra sat down, opening up her interface to connect with the security system of the factory.

“Ha, I thought this was supposed to be the most advanced security system on the planet,” Sombra scoffed as she typed her way in quickly. When would she get a real challenge? So far, Athena had been the only one to withstand her for any amount of time, but in the end, nothing could stop her.

“We don’t have all day, hurry up-”

“Enough. Do you have satellite?” Reaper interrupted Widowmaker’s quip.

Sombra felt the edge of Gabe’s voice, their distrust in her. Deserved, but still. She rolled her eyes, “Of Course.”

“Are you certain that the target is on site?” Widowmaker hissed.

“Oh, she’s here all right,” Sombra said as she opened the security feed. Katya Volskaya, ready to sign a deal with the devil. She checked the entrance that Widow and Reaper stood in, and watched as a single guard walked slowly by. “Guard moving away, ok, you’re in.”

Over the comms, Sombra could hear Reaper and Widowmaker make quick business of the guards, but she wasn’t going to stick around and watch, she had work to do. With a quick tap of a button, she turned on stealth mode and headed towards the next security checkpoint she would have to get Reaper through. The noises over the comms were starting to get distracting: Reaper turning into smoke, Widowmaker zipping up to the top of the crane, the wind blowing across the wires, but she couldn’t take out her earpiece just yet.

Chatter from guards passing unknowingly by her made her knees weak - not that she was afraid, but having not sneaked around outside, with real consequences at hand, did make her nervous to all hell. She got to the manual door operation unit and slid it open for Gabe to pass through.

“The door,” Reaper growled.

On second thought, Sombra shut the doors, and over the comms she could hear the sizzle of anger coming off of Reaper.


She couldn’t but laugh as she opened the sliding doors once more, and got to work on the turrets. If only there was some epic theme music right now to go with the espionage.

“Turrets are down,” Sombra muttered.

“I'm in position. Sombra, time to target,” Widow’s voice sounded distant in the wind. How could was she right now?

Sombra opened her feed that directly linked into the security cameras. “Incoming, right now,” She said staring down at the picture of the elevator, Katya Volskaya surrounded by guards. Her clock was ticking….

Sombra lost track of what happening exactly as she snuck back towards the fire alarm she had seen. Why go high tech when a simple smash of glass and pull of a level got the job done? She muted her end of the mic, and elbowed the glass. She took a deep breath and pulled the alarm. It was pretty instantaneous, the lights turned red, the blaring sound cutting through all conversation. Perfect.

Suddenly, she could hear Reaper’s shotguns and the sound of heavy machinery from a mech being powered up. Oops, lo siento Gabe….

She switched on her comm again to hear, “-mbra! I'm cut off! It's on you now.”

“I'm all over it.”

Sombra wall scrambled to see Katya Volskaya rising up in an elevator above her. “She’s getting away!” Sombra looked around - a way up. The thing was, being in a factory that was fully automated and built electronic mechs, meant that everything was at her disposal. How convenient. Sombra hopped onto a hydraulic lift and sent herself upwards, the force of the momentum whipped her hair into her eyes. At the precipice, without even thinking, Sombra launched herself forwards, reaching desperately for the handrail of the catwalk that Volskaya was being quickly escorted on. She was much higher than the building in Morocco, and definitely had a lot less velocity, but she was so close!

Her body slammed hard into the catwalk, almost knocking the air out of her lungs, but she hung on and glanced up to see Katya’s eyes wide with fear. Fear of her. That felt kind of good, no one had looked at her like that in a while. Security guards were catching up to her, trying to block her path, but that was the exact reason she had made her new little device. Sombra tossed her teleporter and the guards fell for it, ducking for cover from the possible grenade.

Was she seeing red? Not yet, but her senses were heightened and her back was ticking, and she knew that if she didn’t act now, she was dead.

Sombra pulled out her uzi and gunned down the guards quickly and efficiently.

Dashing forwards, she could see Katya Volskaya right up ahead, when she suddenly heard the whirring of a mech far away, but not far enough. Glancing down, she knew what was about to happen. The catwalk melted in front of her and suddenly she was in free fall. ¡Maldita sea!

“Sombra, status!” The buzz in her hear annoyed her beyond belief.

“Agh, I'm working on it!” She shouted as she quickly hacked whatever was in front of her. Her back whirred and then the base of her neck seared in heat as a massive mech hand activated. Shit, if she had known it was that big! She was going to have a bad headache later. The hand of the mech caught and shielded her from gunfire and she forced it to slingshot her into the air and back onto the catwalk. And then she activated her invisibility again.

Guards were yelling at each other, trying to figure out where she had gone, but they had no idea she was slinking behind them, silent as she could be, as the team feverishly ran Kayta to her office. Sombra stood in a corner and waited as the room locked down, and Katya, panting sat on the edge of her desk.

Taking down the two security men was easier than expected. Sombra swung her arm around and pointed the uzi barrel right between the CEO’s eyes.

“Katya Volskaya.” Sombra said sternly. Volskaya almost started panting in fear, staring between the gun and Sombra’s eyes. Sombra watched her for a moment, gauging her movements, how her pupils changed in size.

“Ha,” Sombra chuckled and pulled the gun away from the woman’s face. There was no sigh of relief, if anything, Katya Volskaya looked more apprehensive. Smart lady. “You have no idea what it took for me to make this meeting happen.” They want me to put a bullet in your brain, Sombra wanted to blurt out, instead she turned away. Clattering at the door interrupted Sombra’s thoughts. Guards were clamoring to get in, and even with the blast doors, Sombra knew it wouldn’t be long before her time would be up. “Relájate, I'm not going to kill you!” Sombra chided, and then looked back down at the very dead men she had just killed at her feet. She shrugged with an almost embarrassed grin. “I mean, I'm the one who set off the alarm.”

The crackle of interference over her comms distracted her as Reaper’s angry voice broke through, “Sombra! do you have the targe-” Finally, she could take this stupid thing out.

“Okay, listen. I'm here to make a friend,” Sombra liked making friends, she liked watching their composure crumble. “I'll show you something I found.” She opened her hands to show footage that she had retrieved a while ago; evidence of a clandestine meeting between Katya Volskaya and an omnic. The CEO’s eyes widened in shock as she leaned away from Sombra. “Tell me, what would happen if the people of Russia learned that their ‘defender against the omnics’  was actually getting her tech from the enemy?” Staring at the woman through the images, Sombra couldn’t help but be struck by her beauty and the ferocity behind her icy blue eyes. In a different lifetime, Sombra would’ve thought to be friends in a different way. She stepped beside Katya Volskaya, and slung her arm behind her, closing the space. If caught it would look intimate, but Volskaya shrank away from Sombra’s body heat, disgust and fear permeating the air. Looking at the desk, she found exactly what she wanted. “What would that do to the future of Russia?” Sombra picked up the picture frame of a young girl - seven years old perhaps, with the same blue eyes that her mother had. Sombra knew that she had no power to do anything to the girl, but ideas tinged at the edges with fear were very powerful.

Katya took the photo in her hands and stared down at her daughter with anger starting to seep through her, evident by the tightening and whitening of her fingers on the frame. “What do you want?”

Sombra wanted to clap with glee, this was easier than expected! “The most powerful woman in Russia? Ha! I've always wanted a friend like that!”

The sound of guards breaching the blast doors was becoming louder, her time was running out, and surely Reaper was about to have her head for not answering him.

“So I'm thinking, I don't let these images appear on every holovid in the world and you help out your new friend every now and then. What do you say?” Sombra dangled the incriminating photo in front of Volskaya. The blast doors started to open, and Sombra felt her pulse pick up again. “Clock's ticking, amiga.”

Katya took her sweet time, trying to run out the clock, but finally, “As if I had a choice. Now what, ‘friend’?”

“I'll be in touch. Boop!” Sombra tapped the CEO’s nose on impulse, a giddy reaction to getting what she wanted, and the shocked face of the Katya was worth it as Sombra waved before she teleported back to the catwalk. She would have to still get use to the sensation, but it worked perfectly well. Sombra slipped in her ear pierce and put on a scowling face to mask her voice. “Mission failed. Target escaped.”

Sombra could hear the fury that was sizzling over the comms from Gabe, and it was probably a good thing she was several stories above him at the moment. “Get back to the rendezvous point,” He finally growled.

Sí señor.




The small hotel sat just over the border in Estonia. The building was plain and stark against the night sky - still resonating with its communist and Dada past. Sombra was the one to check in under the false name that had been given to her earlier. She was the least conspicuous once again. Widow came into the lobby and stood by the door, a scarf covering her blue face being that it was conveniently chilly out, with only her yellow eyes glinting in the faded red light of the neon sign that crackled ‘Saadavus’ .

After only one hiccup with the universal translator, Sombra had a room booked with cash under that tantalizing name Sabina Ojeda. They were located on the top floor that had a window with a view of a black forest, and lights shining from a nearby factory. The landscape was flatter than Sombra anticipated.

Gabe never did join the two women in the sparse room. Sombra suspected he didn’t sleep anymore. Instead, she imagined him sitting in the old car they had driven, growling to himself. The ride across the border had been uncomfortable to say the least. Sombra’s track record according to her teammates was abysmal, even if she so far had succeeded where she needed to. Her gain, their loss. Sombra snorted sardonically while brushing her hair with a flimsy plastic comb provided by the lady at the front desk.

“We leave at 4:30 AM. The drop ship will pick us up a kilometer to the southwest. I have the coordinates,” Widowmaker’s voice sounded over the running tap as Sombra splashed her face with ice cold water. She closed her eyes with her hands still on her cheeks, her body still bent over the sink.

“Hey, araña,” Sombra sighed frustratedly. “Let’s give the job a rest. I’m fucking tired and I don’t need a reminder that I have to get up in 6 hours.”

“Don’t call me that,” Came the tart response.

Sombra finished her nightly routine, making sure to tie her hair in a loose braid. She wouldn’t have time to style in the morning.

The room was painted a washed out bisque and the LED light that buzzed overhead added nothing to the atmosphere. There was a pretty basic flat screen mounted to the wall and two twin beds that sat close together next to the window. Widowmaker had already claimed one bed, her coat and scarf tossed at the foot of the bed and she was taking off her heavy shoes. They hadn’t been able to pack anything for the overnight, so Sombra shifted off her jacket and belt and resigned herself to the fact she would be sleeping in her leggings and crop top. Too bad she had sweat through it but she wasn’t about to use the shower that had a minute long turn-off timer to then just put her soiled clothes back on in the morning.

She sat on the hard bed and began to peel her gloves off, one finger at a time, making sure to be careful of the fake nails. She looked at her own hand, her real nails cut short.

“I need to paint my nails,” Sombra said, absentmindedly. Maybe this could be a fun slumber party.

“I saw everything.” Or maybe not.


“I saw everything that happened at Volskaya.” Sombra felt her skin crawl at the deepening of Widowmaker’s voice. “You seemed to forget I had my visor activated the whole time.” Widowmaker tapped one of the red eyes of her visor that sat next to her on the bed.

Sombra looked at Widow carefully. “Did you not consider that I wanted you to see everything?”

A long silence.

“If you did anything that caused this mission to fail -” Widowmaker started, but Sombra snorted loud enough to make her stop.

“Eres paranoico,” Sombra scoffed, standing up and turned her back to Widowmaker. “Come to your own conclusions, araña.”

“I told you not to call me that,” Widowmaker snapped. “I will not be the one to take the fall for you if Moira finds out.”

“If?” Sombra spun back around. “Or did you mean to say ‘when’?” This holier-than-thou attitude was starting to get on Sombra’s nerves. “Run back to your keeper and tell her everything, is that right?”

“She is not-”

“Oh yes she is and you can’t kid yourself.”

Widowmaker suddenly towered over Sombra and slapped her hard across the face. Sombra stumbled back in surprise, the back of her knees knocking into the bed.

“You do NOT get to dictate how a mission goes, putain d'idiot,” Widow flared, staring Sombra dead in the eye.

Sombra straightened and swung a closed a closed fist at Widowmaker’s face. Her hand connected with the blue cheekbone and it was Widow’s turn to fall back.

Sombra spun around with the momentum of her movement, clutching her hand to her chest, “¡Qué chingados! You are all bone you fucking dick!” Breathing sharpley through her teeth, Sombra looked over at Widow, who had put a hand to the place Sombra’s fist had struck. “Never underestimate me,” Sombra growled. “You have no idea what is going on, and if you are smart, you’ll keep your fucking mouth shut.

“Make me,” Widow hissed, a trickle of dark blood escaping from the corner of her mouth. She must have bit herself when hit. “We are a team but I will not let you compromise the mission.”

“‘Make me’? ‘Make me’ ?!” Sombra stepped closer, and tapped Widow’s sternum, hard. “I think Moira’s already got making you covered.” Widowmaker’s eyes flashed dangerously. “What does she make you do behind closed doors? You are just her toy, and I am too valuable to her and to Talon.” Sombra could almost feel the vicious electricity emanating from the tall woman in front of her. “And you’ve already been all used up, killed a sleeping man, and they say you are the best sniper - but you couldn’t even kill an old lady. You think you can scare me? I have a purpose - you are nothing-”

One moment Sombra was standing defiantly, the next she was on her back gasping for air. Widow stood menacingly over her. Sombra blinked, clutching her shirt as if it would help get her lungs to inflate faster. “Ow! That fucking hurt!” Sombra gasped. Widowmaker gave her a wilting look of false pity as she stepped away.

“Not getting away,” Sombra muttered. She swung her leg from her position on the floor and slammed it into Widow’s ankles. Widowmaker landed on the ground chest first with a thud, her arms breaking her fall. “You can’t tell Moira.”

“A lot of talk for someone still begging,” Widow choked out.

“I’m fucking serious,” Sombra gasped.

“You do not control me,” She started to hoist herself up, but Sombra pounced, knocking her back onto her stomach.

“And Moira does? Don’t be her lap dog,” Sombra wrapped her fingers in Widow’s ponytail, forcing her head up, her back arching. “Do you believe me when I say this is all part of a bigger plan? One that may or may not help Talon?”

“No,” Widowmaker seethed, reaching up her hand and dug her nails into Sombra’s hand that was tangled in the purple-black strands. “You’re just pathetic.”

“If you tell Moira, you are doing exactly what she wants, ah!” Sombra cried out in pain, letting go ot Widow’s hair; her hand had deep welts from her nails. Widow squirmed beneath her until she spun herself onto her back, Sombra straddling her hips.

“But why then should I listen to you? You are nothing more than a dirty paid-by-the-hour merc who thinks she is better than everyone else.”

“Right back at you,” Sombra frowned. “Don’t tell her.”

“Why shouldn’t I? You haven’t given me a good reason not to,” Widowmaker scowled. “You think I’m on a leash being hand fed by that bitch? How little you know of me.” Angrily, Widowmaker flipped herself around and once again, Sombra was on her back, looking up at Widow. “There is no reason you have given me to believe that lying mouth!” Widow forced a dazed Sombra’s arms above her head, pinning her in place.

“You… you called Moira a bitch!” Sombra wheezed, a cough-laugh escaping from her. “There’s fight in you yet.”

Widowmaker blinked down at Sombra.

“Listen, I can tell you everything, if you don’t rat me out, at least not yet,” Sombra panted. “I can promise I will help the team; the mission. Just… let me do my thing, with my lying mouth, and you don’t get involved.” Widow still didn’t respond. “Look, if you tell Moira, she won’t just fire me. She’ll turn me into her next test subject.” This seemed to stir something in Widowmaker, as her grip loosened on Sombra’s wrists. “Do you trust me?”

“Absolutely not,” Widow scoffed.

“Ahh, mierda… qué voy a hacer contigo,” Sombra felt her future slipping from her grasp, chased by glowing yellow eyes. “Chica, we’ll figure something out. Just, wait to say anything when we get back to HQ. Please?” No response. Sombra wriggled trying to release her hands from Widow’s grip. “Hnng… can you let go now? We can dance later if you like. I promise no more fighting. That is if you don’t hit me - then I think we can both agree it’s just self defense at that poin-mph?” Her rambling was suddenly cut off as Widow leaned down and pressed her lips onto Sombra’s. It was an intense and sudden awakening deep in Sombra’s core. She opened her mouth and tasted the dried blood at the corner of Widow’s, and she felt Widowmaker shifting on her hips, grinding down.

Holy fuck.

With her hands still pinned by Widow’s longer arms, Sombra pulled one leg up and around her waist, letting Widowmaker sit fully on her thigh. Widow’s other hand started to wander; first through Sombra’s hair and then along her neck to her breast, fingernails digging nearly painfully into the soft flesh. But Sombra didn’t mind, she was distracted with the damp heat that was spreading across her thigh that Widowmaker was still pressing down on hard. She realized she herself was burning what felt like a hole in her leggings.

Widow broke away, her hair curtaining over her shoulder next to Sombra’s face. They were still so close that Sombra couldn’t help but lift her head up and give Widowmaker another soft kiss, her hand still trapped in Widow’s grip. Their noses bumped as Sombra’s eyelids fluttered and her breath came up short. Widow looked almost just as dishevelled, her mouth open and as Sombra eyed her, Widow licked her teeth in a way that reminded Sombra of a dog ready to kill. Instead, Widowmaker bent down and ran her tongue a long Sombra’s neck. Sombra freed her hands finally and immediately grabbed at Widow’s ass, arching her back up to press closer to her.

“Fuck, you seriously need to lose the clothes,” Sombra managed to gasp, running her hands along the catsuit, feeling the movement of Widow’s hips.

Widowmaker sat up, resting her full weight on Sombra’s thigh and pulled down the shoulders of her uniform as Sombra ogled her from the ground. Her blue skin was shining with a thin layer of sweat, and she revealed her small, firm breasts as she pulled the fabric away. Her nipples were visibly hard, and her chest heaved as she forced the sleeves of the suit off, letting it all pool around her waist.

What was happening?

Sombra reached up her hands and ran them along the firm stomach, mapping out muscle and scar tissue. Despite the gleam of sweat, Widowmaker’s skin was cold to the touch. Widow leaned forward, allowing Sombra to easily tug at her tits, and her little jerk told Sombra she was doing good.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for so long,” She groaned as Widow moved her hips against Sombra’s thigh.

“Me too,” Widowmaker whispered.

“Really?” Sombra’s face fell into bewilderment, but Widowmaker didn’t pause. “I thought you found me disgusting.”

“I do,” Widow gasped out. “And untrustworthy.”

“What changed?”

“Can’t I just want to fuck someone?” Widowmaker now sounded annoyed. “Shut up for once!”

She bent down and kissed Sombra again, leaning on her forearms, effectively trapping Sombra from pulling away to ask more questions. She was ok with that at the moment. Widowmaker’s tongue was fucking amazing, and even when their teeth clacked together, it sent chills down Sombra’s spine. It was a messy kiss, and finally Widow lifted her head a fraction above Sombra’s, and caught Sombra’s bottom lip in her teeth.

Sombra moaned as she tried to free her mouth - no she wasn’t done talking! “Let’s - bed. Get on the bed.”

Finally, Widowmaker stood up and Sombra scrambled after her, ripping off her top and sliding the leggings over her thighs down to her ankles before Widowmaker pushed her onto one of the small beds. She had pulled off her uniform to reveal the black pair of underwear that were much more plain than Sombra would have guessed, but then again, they were both forced to wear Talon standard issue. Sombra’s own bra was a black soft sports bra that didn’t do her any favors, but Widowmaker didn’t seem to care as she pushed the edge of it up across Sombra’s chest, revealing her own soft breasts.

They were kissing again, and Sombra could feel Widow’s nipples on her bare skin, and the quiver of long fingers on her sides. Fuck!! This was so messed up! Just a few minutes ago, this bitch wanted to kill her. Now all Sombra could think about was fucking her with her tongue.

Good idea.

Sombra pushed back at Widowmaker’s astonishing frame, and stood up, kicking off her leggings from her ankles and forcing the bra over her head and discarded haphazardly onto the floor. Turning back towards blue skin, Sombra gripped at Widow’s hips and tugged at the hem of the underwear, while leaning forward and slipping one of Widow’s nipples in her mouth, purple lipstick smearing on the soft, cold skin. Widow didn’t make much sound except a hitch in her breath as she staggered to open her legs for Sombra to push off the fabric.Sombra kissed down Widowmaker’s stomach, the salty taste of her skin delicious and addicting. Down on her knees, she had Widow sit on the edge of the bed and pressed her face along her inner thighs and breathed deeply.

Widowmaker immediately put one foot on the edge of the bed, the other leg over Sombra’s shoulder and reached forward to run her fingers through the dark roots of Sombra’s hair. This was starting to be a little too good to be true, but Sombra wasn’t about to stop. No, she was going to make Widowmaker a puddle in her hands. She kissed her way to Widow’s clit and let her tongue slide along her folds.

The deep groan in the back of Widowmaker’s throat made Sombra twist her hips, trying to find some sort of friction because the heat in her stomach was starting to boil over. Her taste was intoxicating, a heady taste that invaded her senses as she breathed in deeply, and then started to suck at Widow’s clit. Widow’s nails scraped along Sombra’s scalp and more shivers ran down Sombra’s spine as she quickly worked a finger inside Widowmaker. Despite the cold skin of Widow’s extremities and chest, inside she was burning hot as Sombra sucked, and rotated her finger around, earning more guttural moans.

A second finger inside Widow, and she was falling back on her elbows, her chin resting on her chest as she looked down at Sombra, yellow eyes heavily lidded. Sombra couldn’t help but stare up at her from between her legs. What was going on behind those eyes? Fury? Lust? Maybe both.

“Sombra….” Widowmaker closed her eyes, her eyebrows twitching downwards. “Don’t stop-don’t stop sucking my clit.” She let her head fall back, her hair pillowing onto the bed behind her as her chest moved heavily to the rhythm of Sombra’s fingers.

Sombra could tell her own thighs were becoming sticky as she watched Widow begin to crumble. She added a third finger easily, pumping in and out in a fast but steady pace. With the third finger added, Widow’s arms suddenly gave way and she fell onto the bed, the heel of her right foot digging into Sombra’s shoulder blade and she covered her mouth and face as she silently choked.

“Faster,” Widowmaker commanded in a pathetic raspy voice, but still being told what to do while she was on her knees had Sombra rolling her eyes back into her head. “Ah-!” And then Widowmaker was pulsing around her fingers, and both her legs were wrapped around Sombra’s head as Widow came almost silently with an arch of her back.

Sombra slid out her sticky fingers and sucked them into her mouth, watching Widow eye her from above her, her hands now resting on her chest, legs still resting on Sombra’s shoulders. Making sure the yellow eyes were on her, Sombra ran her fingers down to her underwear and pressed them into herself, rocking on her own hand. She was so hot, wanting, and open it was quicker than she anticipated to feel the deep edge of the orgasm in her stomach. Widowmaker didn’t make a move, just watched Sombra fuck herself. Honestly, Sombra didn’t seem to care if Widowmaker touched her or not, she’d come just by that stare.

“When you walked in on me in the bathroom,” Words dripped from Sombra’s mouth in a lazy heat, her lips swollen from their work on Widow’s clit. “I was thinking of fucking you.”

There was a pause, and then Widowmaker swung her legs off of Sombra, and stood up next to her, “Get up.”

Giddily, Sombra stood, her legs buzzing as Widowmaker bent down once again and ravaged her mouth in a deep kiss, long fingers hooking around the edge of Sombra’s soaked underwear and pushed them down. And then Sombra was roughly spun around and pushed against the wall next to the TV, and before she knew it, Widow had pushed two fingers into her pussy.

Her breath was hot on Sombra’s neck and Widowmaker pressed herself fully against her, and Sombra found herself spluttering and scrambling for purchase on the wall as Widowmaker strongly thrust into her, her other hand on Sombra’s waist, squeezing hard.

“ ¡Joder! Cógeme más duro,” The spanish started to spill out of Sombra, her own thoughts becoming incoherent. “Quiero que me hagas acabar.”

“I have no idea what you are saying,” Widowmaker mouthed into Sombra’s neck.

“More,” Sombra begged, reaching behind her for Widow’s wrist to show her what she wanted. Widowmaker obliged and fucked her with three fingers buried deep inside her, pressing her harder against the wall. “Fuck! Fuck, fuck fuckfuck,” Sombra screwed her eyes shut as she felt herself tighten and build. “I’m coming,” She gasped out in a ragged voice and then groaned as pushed back on Widowmaker, her nails trying to dig into the wall in front of her. Her body spasmed several times as Widowmaker held her hand still inside Sombra.

Finally they broke apart, and Sombra turned to lean against the wall and watched as Widowmaker walked to the bathroom to wash her hands. How could she be so chill? Sombra sank to the floor and wiped at her eyes that had watered as she had come. She was sure she looked like a mess - lipstick everywhere but her lips, eyeshadow and mascara running in rivers down her face, but she relished looking so dishevelled.

That had really happened.

Then the high from her orgasm vanished and she stared at the nude body of Widowmaker in the bathroom, now washing her face over the sink. Could she trust her? Sombra remembered the footage she had watched secretly of Widow’s treatments and how willing she had gone in and let Moira inject her with drugs. Would Widow just go straight to Moira’s office and report what had just happened? Not only that Sombra had been within absolute killing range of Volskaya, but had just fucked her in a seedy motel?

Now sobered, Sombra stood and walked to the bathroom to wash up as well. She didn’t say anything but looked at Widowmaker in the reflection, while Widow avoided her gaze. It really was up in the air wasn’t it.




They got back to Poland without incident, Sombra (use to running on little sleep) could see Widowmaker struggling in the plane, her head heavily dropping continually to her chest. Gabe either didn’t notice the stale air between them, or just didn’t give a fuck. Either way, Sombra was glad he wasn’t interrogating her. She busied herself on reading the news on the plane back, and then staring absentmindedly out the window, her mind drifting sideways into places she shouldn’t be considering.

Back in Poland, Widowmaker headed straight to bed, and Sombra took a cold shower, her skin erupting in goosebumps. They were to debrief the next day, so Sombra dressed in leggings and a long sleeve shirt and headed upstairs to the bar in the hotel.

It was decently lavish, everything highlighted in gold. She was definitely underdressed, but she didn’t care. It was busy with high society tourists, women wearing wool tailored jackets, men slipping off scarfs as they clinked champagne flutes, wine glasses, and tumblrs together. But she wasn’t here to be fancy. She was here to have her first alcoholic drink in months.

She settled herself at the bar and the omnic bartender approached. “You don’t happen to have any xtabentún, do you?” She asked before the omnic could greet her.

They paused, thinking for a brief second, before shaking their head. “I’m afraid not. Might I suggest Don Rumbotico?”

“Of course you guys have that,” Sombra sighed, remembering that when she had gotten the info to blackmail Talon with, she had seen that the distillery had been a front. “Sure. Dry.”

They poured a lowball glass with the dark rum, and Sombra snatched it a little too quickly and swallowed it down. The sensation of alcohol hitting her system was almost instantaneous but she pushed the glass towards the omnic again, waving her hand for another. If the omnic could make expressions, she knew they would looked shocked. But they complied and poured more into the glass. Sombra took it back and gulped it down in two swift movements. Yeah, her legs were definitely getting fuzzy. Not having had a drink in so long made it so much easier to get drunk.

“Let’s finish this up with a shot of tequila,” Sombra said, blinking away the sway of the room.

The shot glass rested heavy in her fingertips as she looked down at it with a heavy sigh. And then she poured it down her throat. It burned but in the way that she remembered hanging out with friends in bars in México. She nodded to the omnic and got up - Talon could front her bill since they owned this property. She walked, slightly unsteadily back towards the elevators and leaned against the cool marble waiting for it to open.

Once back below the hotel, Sombra walked back to the barracks and opened the door to the dark room. From the light in the hallway, she could see the figure of Widowmaker laying curled up on her side in her far bed, her hair spilling over the edge of the mattress. Sombra blinked quickly as the tequila boiled in her stomach. She walked (and definitely staggered a few times) over to the edge of the bed that Widow was sleeping in and watched her for a moment.

Widowmaker opened her eyes and rolled her head over to look up at Sombra. "Ça va?" She murmured huskily as she blinked up at Sombra. “You smell like alcohol.”

“I just…,” Sombra rubbed her face and sat at the edge of the bed. “Can I trust you?”

Widow eyed her with sleep still etched into her face, “I don’t know if you should.”

“It would be bad for you as well as me if Moira finds out.”

“Is that a threat?”

“No,” Sombra shook her head sadly. “It’s a fact.”

Widowmaker met that with a stony silence, and Sombra was about to get up and move to her own bed, when Widowmaker pulled her cold hand out of the bed and loosely gripped at Sombra’s wrist. “I won’t say anything.”

“I won’t either,” Sombra stared down at the long, delicate fingers. God, she was in deep. “Pinky promise?”

Widowmaker’s face twitched into a confused smile as she released her fingers and mimicked Sombra’s extended small finger. They hooked them together, as if they were school children on a sleepover. The touch lasted longer than it should have, and then Sombra had the insane impulse to lean down and brush her lips softly against Widowmaker’s. Her long eyelashes fluttered against Sombra’s skin, and then Sombra broke it and began to stand when Widowmaker took her wrist again.

“I’m cold,” Widowmaker whispered.

Sombra looked down at her, her heart beating so heavily in her chest she felt it would be visible. She found herself nodding and slipping off her shoes as Widow moved to the side and pushed the blankets aside. Sombra slid in beside Widow and they stared into each other’s eyes, their breath matching in rhythm, their feet tangling with the others.

This was… what was this?