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Brewing Tempests

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It was a quiet night, dreary and dark. Clouds filled the sky, obscuring what little natural light would have been given off by the stars and moon. Snow fell softly on the ground. Maxwell felt as if the world itself was trying to drag him down; he could almost feel chains of exhaustion pulling him into a restless sleep. The guard was hunched over a desk in the top of the light tower, supporting the weight ofm his head on his hands. He rubbed his eyes, determined to stay awake. It was the fifth night in a row of this crap, but he'd be damned if he wasn't going to do his job. Maxwell prided himself on that. He knew Donny did too. The other guard, Maxwell's long time friend, had gone to the base of the tower for a routine system check, leaving Maxwell to operate the spotlight alone. Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he saw a quick flash of light. He yawned, then turned to move the spotlight across the courtyard, before his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a door opening.

"Long night, huh?"

The guard sighed in response. "Man, I'm not even sure why they got us up here. Nothin' ever happens." He heard his friend grunt out a short chuckle.

"Well, I'm glad. Otherwise I'd be out of a job." He chuckled humorlessly. "You too."

"Hey, hey, hey," Maxwell interrupted, "you know that's not what I mean. I'm... I'm just spit-ballin' here. They got us like... sitting here for days watchin', waiting for God knows what so we can stop God knows who from getting God knows what. They got all this sci-fi crap, nukes that they feel to proud of themselves to call nukes or somethin', it just feels pointless sometimes, I mean..."

Maxwell rambled on for a bit in a exhaustion-induced stupor, complaining about problems he wasn't sure if even he really cared about. He did this often, but he knew Donny didn't mind. Anything to give them something to focus on on these long, still nights. They talked about how they could never stop the type of people who would ever get past the front gates, how their own sources' of income were pointless endeavors. They weren't too sincere about it, if it were anything more than an exercise to help keep themselves awake, it was misguided attempt to state their frustration with the hush-hush and confidentiality of the base they worked at. Years of work in the police force amounting to nothing but sitting in a top secret facility watching nothing to protect weapons and secrets that they weren't allowed to know even existed.

After a few minutes of circular and pointless ranting, Maxwell ended his speech with a rhetorical question. Seconds passed, and the air hung with the absence of his ally's compounded complaints and argument.

"Donny?" Maxwell turned around, and his partner was nowhere to be found. He noticed the snowstorm outside picking up. A sudden shiver ran through his body, an anxious quake. He shook the feeling off. Paranoia and nerves set in easily on nights like these. Donny had simply walked off. That's all it was. Paranoia and nerves.

Maxwell stood, stumbled, caught himself, and started off. After turning the corner into the hallway, another chill ran up his spine. He heard the night wind howling outside, wind speeds growing with the beating of his heart in his chest. He stopped himself. Breathe. Donny was okay. He was okay. He was imagining the drop in temperature, the howling of the winds. "You've been to through much to let nerves get you down, Maxy." He breathed out heavily. He felt better, awake. A rush of energy and optimism flooded through him, and he was nearly on top of the world right before he rounded the corner, right before he fell further than ever before.

The window in front of Maxwell was broken, curtains waving frantically in the wind, snowing pouring in, pudling into the sharp edges of the wall. Maxwell's heart stopped and leapt in the same moment. He nearly choked on his own breath. In that second, he felt nothing but pure terror, but in the seconds after, he felt nothing but emptiness. He fell into his trained response, chiseled in by years of police work. He forgot all his emotions and worries and became a detective. He noticed that there was no glass on the floor. So the culprit was already inside the facility. Then why break the glass? He inched closer. He saw blood on the edges of the glass. There had been a struggle. Someone had been smashed into the window. No, there was no glass on the inside of the room, and almost no glass left in the windowsill. They had thrown someone out the window. Donny. They threw Donny out the window. He snapped out of his calculated, detective mindset and strait back into the Maxwell full of terror. They had killed his best friend.

He ran to the open window and peered down into the ground. The storm had picked up, he couldn't see the ground.

"DONNY!" Maxwell screamed desperately. He was hoping, praying that his friend was still okay. Still alive. "Where are you?"

"Don't worry," a voice behind Maxwell said, in a cruel, mocking tone. He felt the cold metal press against the back of his skull. "You'll find your amigo soon enough." A single shot rang out, throughout the entire base. The storm itself seemed to subside for a moment, to commemorate one of the few men who had watched it night after night, who would have remembered those long, still nights. And so ended Maxwell.

Sombra chuckled. She had always been a bit theatric. She brought her hand up to her ear, turning on the communication channel. "Gaurds down."

"Move into position," a gruff, raspy voice growled in her ear, "We don't have much time."

"And please," a second, cold voice added, "Pay attention this time."

Sombra chuckled softly, and started off. "Its not my fault I was distracted by your staggering beauty." The other woman sighed, and began to retort before being interupted. "Widowmaker, Sombra, stop this. We have a mission. We have to recover the MEMP. And we all know Talon will be..." He paused significantly. "...upset, if we fail again."

"Understood, Reaper," both women answered. Sombra smirked. They're going to be upset all right. She jumped from a lower window, down into the courtyard. The spotlights were contnuing their default sweeps across the area. No one would notice a single thing out of place until the MEMP was under Talon's control. She would remotely disable the alarms, Widowmaker would assasinate the few scientists and diplomats allowed so deep into the facility, and Reaper would grap the MEMP. If, everything went according to plan.

She turned to her left, intending to find the access panel, but was stopped when her foot hit something. It was the gaurd she had thrown out the window earlier. She had almost forgotten about that. She bent down, and inspected his remains. A quick check revealed he had no pulse. Form the looks of it, he had broken his neck upon impact and died instanly, at least she hoped so. She thought for a second. She could of sworn the other gaurd had said his name. What was it? Oh yes, Donny. What a cliche name. It reminded her of the side-character of a bad sitcom, the one who sat at the bar and provided well meaning, but misleading, advice. She smiled at that. He seemed to be a normal enough person, he had listened to his friend, done his job, and... and she had killed him. Their was a sudden shift in her stomach. She felt herself getting dizzy. She put her hand on the ground. Now was not the time for these thoughts. She would have time for guilt later.

Sombra ran off. She ran faster than was probably nescary, but it didn't matter. As long as she got away from the man, as long as she wasn't around him, she could do what was necessary. She could finish her work.

She found the access pannel a few minutes later. It was in a control room, in a hallway on the east side of the facility. She had found the map of the facility ages ago, and they had all been forced to memorize it. With such high stakes, Talon couldn't afford any mistakes. The control operators had been lured away earlier by a camera glitch she had caused, and killed by Widowmaker. Or at least she assumed, as otherwise she could never have gotten into the door. Sombra flicked through the cameras in the observatory, finding Widowmaker and Reaper quickly. She had a good view of the other woman's back, and thought about contacting her in the communicator to annoy her. She never seriously considered it as an option, but the idea did make her chuckle.

Suddenly, Reaper's voice rang in her ears. "Are you in position?"

Sombra purposefully turned on her communicator before sighing, "Yes. I'm not a child anymore, Reaper."

"That's not the point. You know how time sensitive this mission is."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know. It'll work out fine."

She heard Reaper huff through the voice channel. She chuckled. Turning to the screens, she saw that the moment they were waiting for was almost upon them. All personell where almost about to reach a position where Widowmaker could quickly take them out. Once the few gaurds had turned and ran to help the dead scientists, she would drop the defensive wall around the MEMP and Reaper would slip in, and recover it. Then Talon would have the gretest weapon in the looming crisis gripping the nation.

Sombra flicked open her holographic screens, eyeing lines of code. She easily dismantled all the alarms and what were laughably called safety precautions, giving her control over the entire facility. Her finger hovered over the button, and she waited for the signal...

Crack! Crack! Crack!

Widowmaker rattled off a few rounds, each finding a place in its targets' head. As predicted, the gaurds ran out, and Reaper slipped next to the MEMP. There was commotion. Alarms rang out, people hollered all throughout the lowest parts of the base. The defensive walls around the MEMP did not rise.

"Dammit, Sombra, what happened!?" Reaper yelled through the communciator.

Sombra laughed. "Oh, it's nothing, Reaper. Just a quick change of plans." She removed the commucicator from her ear, and then pressed the button.

In the next second, the entire facility was coated in blackness, then a large explosion filled the observation room. The room Sombra was in lurched and shaked, and she was taken off her feet. She quickly ran back to the access panel. She downloaded a few files, then took off.

She checked to see if any of the cameras were still operational. Three were. She almost couldn't believe it. Sneaking a bomb into the facility was so much easier than she expected. Of course, the US was to cautious to inspect the MEMP up close. In fact, they hadn't once physically inspected it since they were so lucky as to find it in a desolated Russian Convoy ship after a distress signal had rung out. No one knew what had happend to the crew or who had set the ship out to sea. Well, one person knew.

She checked the cameras. All she could see was rubble. Then, a shadowy figure rose from the darkness, he looked around, screamed and the slunk under the rubble. A few seconds later, Reaper emerged with a bloody Widowmaker in his arms. Sombra couldn't believe it. They had survived. Reaper held up his gun, and pointed it strait at Sombra. He fired, and the camera's feed cut out. She checked the others. She only recieved static in response. Sombra sighed. Just as well. She didn't care anyway. Once her plan was in motion, they would both be insignificant.

She entered the courtyard. As with the observation deeck, alarms were blaring, but few men were able to heed the warning. Talon had seen to that. Somra glanced frantically around. Where was her escape vehicle? It should have been here by now. She had paid some of the best mercenaries in the world to pick her up, what could have possibly happened...

"Don't worry, luv, Cavalry's here!" a jolly voice rang out.

No. They couldn't possibly have known. Both she and Talon had covered their tracks so well. She activated her cloak, and inspected the area where the voice had rang out, outside of the facility's walls. A large stealth chopper was flaming on the ground, and a large gorilla was holding the pilot high above the ground while a woman was running around the area, blinking back between injured survivors and a large ship.

"Okay," the gorilla boomed at the mercenary,"who hired you?"

Of cousre. The damn mercenaries had attracted Overwatch's attention. Sombra ducked back into the doorway. So, new escape route. She could stow away on the Overwatch ship, no, they would find her. She could fix the chopper, no, she couldn't. She could... Sombra could..., DAMMIT! She couldn't think of a way out. She ran back into the facility, sprinting as fast as she could, not caring where she would end up. She would have to wait. Overwatch didn't have many members at the moment. Surely they would only send the gorilla and, what was her name, Tracer after a random mercenary helicopter. Of course, the chopper in question was right next to one of the US's most "high security" bases, right after it had recieved a top secret shipment. Shit. Okay, she would hope it was only the two of them. She would slip out when they weren't paying attention, and leg it to the nearest town. She could still intitate her plan. She could run that far.

She stopped to catch her breath. Okay, now to find a-

"Hands up." An all to familiar voice coldly growled. Seconds later, Sombra felt the all-to familiar sensation of a gun against the back of her head. She heard a thump, presumebly Widowmaker's limp body being dropped. "Drop you weapon." Sombra threw her gun to the side.

Sombra raised her hands. "Reaper, I know you're angry," she began, trembling.

"Shut the hell up." Reaper yelled. "You tried to kill us. I should splatter your brains all over the wall."

"Reaper please," Sombra pleaded in a shaky voice. She cursed at herself for letting him break her guard so easily. For being so stupid as to not remember he and Widowmaker were still here. "If you just give me a second to explain-"

"I don't want to hear your damn explanations!" Reaper interrupted. He pushed the muzzle of his gun against her head. "You're gonna pay for what you did." Sombra heard him rack his shotgun.

Sombra did everything she could to stay composed. She knew Reaper. She knew things about the situation Reaper didn't. She could find a way out. Then, she gave off a cocky laugh, or at least one she hoped would come off as cocky. "Oh please. If you wanted to kill me, you would have shot me before saying even one word." She said each of the last words slowly, and with as much articulation as possible. She could feel Reaper's gun shrink back. She let out a quiet sigh of relief.

"See, you're really just a big softie. Now, would you drop that gun so we could talk this out like normal people?"

"No."

Sombra rolled her eyes, along with her head, and sighed dramatically. "Oh, come on. Reaper, please?" Sombra said with her best bratty teenager impression.

"I wouldn't be joking around if I were you. Now, I'm going to ask you a few questions, and if I don't get answers I like, you don't get to live, got it?"

Sombra smiled to herself. "Shoot." She had to stop herself from laughing when she heard Reaper's sigh. It was working.

"Okay, first, how in the hell did you do that?" Reaper asked.

Sombra let out another cocky laugh, this time she knew it would land right. "Oh Reaper, haven't you ever heard that a magician never reveals his secrets?" She cocked her head to the side. "Well, her secrets."

Reaper huffed. "I'm not in the mood for your games. I always knew that you've had tricks up your sleeves, but this is different."

"Silly Reaper, tricks are for kids!" Sombra laughed. "You really are walking right into these."

"Strike two." Sombra briefly felt the gun leave the side of her head, then a loud shot rang out. Reaper cocked his gun again and returned it to its former position. "Answer."

"Okay, fine," Sombra huffed. "But I've got to warn you, it's a long story. You might want to sit down. Let go of any heavy objects. Cough-gun-cough."

"I'm not dropping my gun, Sombra."

"It was worth a shot. Anyway, don't you think the way the US got the MEMP was a bit suspicious? A Russian convoy, completely taken out, holding one of the most dangerous weapons known to man? That almost the entire ship was in rubble, but the MEMP remained completely functional? Doesn't that sound like some sort of, oh I don't know, a setup?" Sombra walked as she spoke, Reaper tracking her with his gun the hole time. He stood in place; he thought for a short while.

"So you got on the Russian convoy, then you killed everyone, then blew it up, then sent the distress signal, then planted a bomb on the MEMP, then leaked the information to Talon, and then feigned ignorance to the entire situation the entire time?" Reaper asked.

"Bingo!" Sombra exclamiamed.

"But why? Why didn't you take the MEMP for yourself? If you wanted it destroyed, why not blow it up on the ship?" Reaper asked, completely perplexed.

"Well, my interests aren't in such shallow things like power. I have more foresight than that." She paused, "But in your case, I would recommend hindsight."

"What the fu-" Reaper began before a large blue explosion rang throughout the area. Reaper and Widowmaker were blown across the room, while Sombra took the opportunity to dive to her weapon. She grabbed the gun and spun around the room, firing at Reaper. He turned to shadow and slunk over Widowmaker, picking her up and falling down a nearby elevator shaft.

Sombra sighed with relief. "Finally, this godforsaken day can end. I can't wait to get out of this damn place."

"Aren't you forgetting something, luv?" the same cheery voice from before sung from behind, and Sombra nearly choked on the irony as Tracer pushed one of her two guns against the back of her skull. "I don't think you'll be going anywhere, right Winston?."

"Yes, I think you'll be coming with us." Winston remarked, "Here, I'll take that off your hands." Winston disarmed her, and Sombra once again raised her hands in defeat.

Chapter Text

Sombra spent the next few hours alone, waiting. Once the gorilla, Winston, and Tracer had disarmed her, they called back to their base. After a conversation that was much longer than it needed to be, it was decided that Tracer would fly the refugees to a nearby town and Winston would guard Sombra. So she stood in the freezing cold for half an hour at gunpoint at two or so in the morning.

The pilot returned with a warm smile, an overcoat, and a cup of hot chocolate that she, quote, "had no bloody intentions of sharing with anyone else". They escorted her onto the plane and ran her through a scanner. The scanner showed the computers throughout her entire outfit, and it was decided that the only way to make sure she was not a real threat was to make her change. Sombra asked for some privacy, which Winston declined. She tried to be angry at him, but he was right to keep an eye on her. After changing into some clothes that did not fit her at all (she felt like she was in a straight-jacket), they escorted her to the holding cell. Tracer was very quick to point out that it was not at all just a repurposed closet. And so she spent the next two hours locked in a closet with crappy, uncomfortable clothes and a lot of jetlag.

They arrived at the base, and Sombra had been escorted to a proper cell. Not that it was much better. She sat on a cold, metal chair at a plain, white desk in a dimly lit room with a suspiciously large mirror to her right. Sombra had always had a good since o0f time, and from what she could guess, she had sat there for about an hour before hearing an argument outside. Loud shouting and a few crashes followed, then eventually ceased once a loud, authoritative voice rang out. The walls were too thick for Sombra to make anything out, but she was certain they were fighting about what to do with her. She had found that funny. Overwatch, the international group of heroes, bickering like children.

Sombra tried to stay awake out of spite, but she was feeling exhausted. Bruises from the night's earlier conflict began to ache. Her arms and legs began to feel heavy, and Sombra decided it wasn't a battle worth fighting and she might as well be comfortable. She got off the chair, rested her head on her arms, and dozed off.

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By the time she had woke up, someone had put a blanket around her shoulders and a pillow under her head. On the table was a simple breakfast and a note reading -hope you like it! ;)-Tracer-. Sombra stubbornly refused to eat, despite the growling of her stomach.

And that was how she ended up here, sitting at a table across a blond woman scribbling down notes on a clipboard with a plot of soggy pancakes and eggs between them. Sombra had studied the woman as she entered. She had immediately disliked the woman. The blonde woman, Dr. Ziegler, her nameplate read, was wearing high heels, a lab coat, lipstick the exact shade of red as lips, and a black skirt. She had entered with the clipboard in hand and a chair in the other. She had this air of formality about her, this upright posture, this need to dress up for a damn interrogation that infuriated Sombra. After thinking about it, she decided that this woman was everything she hated. Uptight, formal, healthy, probably rich and born that way. She didn't understand Sombra at all, and probably never would.

Sombra glared at Doctor Ziegler for several minutes, before the latter woman finally spoke.

"You haven't eaten your food." Sombra's expression changed, from a glare to a more quizzical look, and the woman clarified. "The pancakes. Tracer made them for you. You haven't touched them." She clearly was waiting for a response.

The air felt still like it couldn't move and support the weight of this strained excuse for human contact. The only noise for several seconds was the sound of Ziegler's pen against her paper. Sombra couldn't imagine what she was writing that wouldn't be finished by now. Sombra sat there, thinking of whether to answer and what her answer would be.

"Well, Doctor Ziegler," Sombra spat angrily, though she couldn't help feeling it came off as silly, "I don't need your charity. I was doing just fine by myself."

The constant scratching of the Doctor's pen against the paper stopped, and she set it down on the table. She picked her head up, making eye contact for the first time. "Well, I wouldn't call it charity. We didn't exactly give you a choice to buy your own food, did we? If anything, it's just polite."

Sombra scoffed. "Polite? You're worried about being polite to your prisoner?" Sombra shook her head. "You see that's the problem with you people. You're a bunch of goodie-two-shoes." Sombra stood up.

The doctor mirrored her movement. "Sombra, sit down."

"NO," Sombra yelled back. "I'm tired of you people, going on about the law and good for the people while completely ignoring all the wrong the law has done." Sombra was pacing back and forth, and spotted the mirror on the wall. She continued her speech in a mocking tone. "Oh, what's this? A mirror? How coincidental there would be a mirror in the interrogation room! There's no way this could be one-way glass, that's simply impossible!" Sombra raised her fist.

"Sombra, wait!" Ziegler yelled, but Sombra didn't listen. She punched the mirror with all the force she could. Shards of glass littered the floor, revealing a very white and particularly solid wall. Sombra's hand was bloodied and bruised from the impact. Sombra stood there in shock, almost collapsing from embarrassment. "This room was a dressing room. We repurposed it a holding cell a while back. There are cameras and mics in the ceiling. We left the mirror in because it would have torn up the wall to remove it." Doctor Zeigler explained. Sombra sat down in what could only be described as defeat.

The Doctor sat down and looked at Sombra. Sombra could tell the other woman was searching for the right words. "Sombra," the doctor finally said, "I understand that you're angry. I-," she paused, "I can't say that I know why. I can't say that I know who you are or what you've done. We, Overwatch I mean, we tried to research you, but we couldn't find any information. You're about as far off the grid as you can get. And despite what you may believe, Overwatch isn't as concerned with the law as you might think. We believe in the spirit of the law, not the letter of the law. We believe in," The woman rolled her eyes, "Justice. We, after talking it through, have decided there is a reason to believe that you did not receive that justice." Ziegler looked Sombra in the eye. "We want to give you a chance."

Sombra was startled. She had never expected this, never gotten this impression from Overwatch. She thought to herself for a moment. She thought that they may be lying to her. She thought maybe Talon had lied to her. No, she knew they had.

"Sombra?" The doctor's voice interrupted her thoughts.

"Yes, Doctor Ziegler?" Sombra said. Sombra immediately hated herself for saying that. She hadn't had time to think of a better response, so she answered with a pre-programmed response, like some type of lapdog.

"You're still bleeding." The other woman responded, then stood up. "I'll get something to bandage that up with." She started toward the door. She opened it, then paused. "Oh, and one more thing." The doctor waited for Sombra to look at her. "No one calls me Doctor Ziegler. Around here, they call me Mercy." With that, she left.

Chapter Text

"So, Sombra, what exactly happened back there?" Mercy asked. It had been nearly half an hour since she left. She had returned several minutes ago and bandaged Sombra's hand. Sombra had contemplated trying to escape but remembered the cameras. It was probably best to try and build trust with Overwatch. She didn't know what Mercy had meant exactly by "give you a chance", but she was sure it would be better than being in prison or shot.

Sombra cocked her head to the side. "At the military base?" Mercy nodded. "Oh, Reaper just tried to kill me. He's kind of an asshole." She wanted to keep her cards close to her chest. Lying gave her more room in the long run.

"That's not what Tracer said."

Sombra cursed to herself. The brit must have been eavesdropping. She sighed, then spoke. "So, how exactly how much do you know?"

Mercy smiled to herself. "Well. We know you betrayed Talon, and," she paused, and leaned forward, "I know you still don't trust us." She watched Sombra for a reaction. For an answer, an explanation. When she didn't receive one for several seconds, she leaned back in her chair. "Sombra, I need you to cooperate with us. Really, we're on your side."

Sombra mocked a loud sneeze. She rubbed her nose. "Sorry, I'm just allergic to utter bullshit." She smirked at her own joke.

Mercy glared at her. "Sombra, please. You're very lucky we're even giving you this chance. The only information we have on you is a list of assassinations and crimes. If it weren't for a few very," she paused for emphasis, "very forgiving members, you would be in prison right now. Or worse." Mercy straightened her own posture and gave Sombra a more neutral look. "The fact of the matter is that we don't know who you are. We believe you could be a better person than you seem. We believe in you."

Sombra broke eye contact. She wasn't sure what to make of this. Mercy seemed very sincere, but she'd been tricked before. She had trusted Reaper, and had tried to kill her! (Then again, she did almost blow him up). Eventually, she looked back up and spoke. "Please understand, I come from a hard place. Where I grew up, how I live, trusting someone you don't know is like signing a death warrant."

Mercy's reaction was surprising. She had smiled. "That's about what we expected. If you're not lying, which I don't think you are, then that's very good."

Sombra scowled. "How is growing up in extreme poverty, with people trying to KILL ME, HOW IS THAT GOOD?!" She hadn't meant to yell. She hadn't even noticed herself standing up. Mercy was certainly surprised.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that. What I meant was," the other woman considered her words for a moment, "it means you were justified. That you were set back before you even started." She leaned forward and looked Sombra strait in the eye. "We know what that's like to be hurt. I'm sorry I pushed you like that. You've obviously been hurt. Please, let us understand. We want to help."

Sombra closed her eyes. She could feel herself tearing up. Shit, not here. Not in front of all these people. This of all places was not where she wanted to look vulnerable. She calmed herself down. She was starting to like this woman more. Not too much more, but a little. "So," Sombra finally said. It was more nasally than she would have liked. "What are you going to do with me if you like me? I mean, if you think that what I did was okay?"

"Our original plan was to just let you go." Mercy responded. Sombra smiled. It was probably the best-case scenario. "But I don't think that will ever happen."

"What?!" Sombra nearly yelled. Was Mercy just going to come out and say it like that? She thought this woman of all people would have had more tact than that.

Mercy smirked. "Now, now, I don't mean it like that. Letting you go was just one of several ideas. The problem with it is that it hinges on the contingency," Mercy leaned forward, "Of you living a normal life. Based on what I've gathered from talking to you and the information we have on your crimes, I don't ever think you'd settle down like that. Not while whatever it is that's driving you to commit your crimes is still existent. You'll have to feel like you've won, or that you've fixed the world or something along those lines. The simple fact is that even if you're not just a murderer if you are really just misunderstood, you're simply dangerous to leave unattended." Mercy leaned back in her chair and continued. "What can I say, you're a troublemaker."

Sombra chuckled once. "You really got me pegged here." Both women shared a short laugh. For the first time in a while, Sombra felt a little bit of peace. Sombra didn't need to think about it anymore. If there was anyone she could trust, it was these people.

"I think I'm ready." Mercy looked puzzled, and so Sombra explained further. "You know, to tell you my life story and all. I-," she paused. she wasn't sure if she wanted to expose herself this much. She already felt like she was pinned down on an examination table. The worst part was she happened to know exactly what that felt like. No, this was the time for vulnerability. She needed to let them see the rough parts of her, the parts that she was ashamed of. "I, uh, trust you," She rubbed her hands together nervously and bit her lip. She couldn't quite bring herself to make eye contact. She decided to stare at the pancakes on the table instead.

Mercy quickly picked up on the situation. It was obvious that this was a very hard gesture for Sombra to make. "That's great. We're getting very close to trusting you as well." Mercy could see the tension run out of Sombra's shoulders. "If you could, please start with your early life or your first encounter with Talon."

Sombra nodded. "Of course, but those two overlap, though." She was happy to see Mercy perk up with interest. She was starting to slip back into her old, cocky persona. "I was sixteen."
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Ray walked down the hallway cautiously. He didn't want to wake anyone else up. The old floorboards creaked with every step he took, causing him to flinch a little every time. He slowly opened the door, hoping the hinges wouldn't creek too much. He saw his destination. A nearly ancient computer sat on the desk. One of the caregivers was asleep on the couch, and he had left the computer on. "Lucky me," Ray whispered to himself.

"I like to whisper to." A voice rung in his ear. Ray nearly tripped over himself and screamed on the way down, but the person behind him put their hand over his mouth and caught him. They pulled him away from the door and waited until their caregiver had fallen back asleep before letting him go. Ray turned around to see Sombra behind him.

"Big Sis! What was that for!?" Ray did his best job to yell while keeping quiet. His sister chuckled.

"Just following you, you know, being a Shadow," she had managed to slip in her nickname, "and besides, what were you doing? You know how much trouble you would get in for being up past bedtime! And besides, there's nothing you could find on that computer that you couldn't get on mine. I'm in the system remember?"

Ray curled his face into a scowl. "Who are you to go on about getting in trouble? Remember the noodle incident? You didn't get to eat dinner for a month!"

Sombra laughed. "Yeah, that was hilarious. It took Marina so long to get it out of her hair!"

Ray laughed a little too, then continued. "Also, I didn't want you to find it for me because," He stopped, and turned away.

Sombra noticed her brother was down and tried to console him. "Ray, what's wrong? You can tell me anything, you know that. I'll always protect you."

Ray sat down silently, still unsure of whether to reveal his secret. "I was going to find something about Mom."

Sombra was shocked. She knew Ray had to be a little beaten up about not meeting her, but she never thought it was such a big deal. That was stupid. Sombra should have known better. She figured it was time for a talk with Ray she should have had a long time ago. She wrapped her arms around him. "You don't need a computer for that. I can tell you anything you need to know." She waited for Ray's response. Once he nodded, she took him back to her room.

--------

"This is me and Mama at the park."

"Wow, you're so little, Sombra!" It was true. The picture she had pulled up on her laptop (Which she had stolen from a nearby Wal-Mart. Greedy bastards.) was from when she was three. It showed Sombra on her mother's lap, way back when they lived in her Mama's hometown, a little rural village a few miles away from the beach. The picture was taken by her Dad on a warm evening. There was a beautiful sunset in the background, and her Mama looked beautiful. It was probably her favorite picture of her mother, just because of how happy they both looked. "Sombra?" Ray asked, interrupting her train of thought, "How did Mama die?"

Sombra paused. Her brother was only ten years old, no one thought he was old enough to know the whole story yet. "Ray, before I tell you, I just want you to remember that Mama and Papa both loved us very much and that nothing would have ever changed that." Her little brother nodded. Sombra let out a shaky breath. It was always hard for her to revisit these memories. "I know that even though no one ever told you this, you probably figured out that our Papa was in a gang." He nodded again, this time more slowly. Sombra had to hold back tears. "Well, one day he had made the leader of the gang mad. I still don't know what he did, but I know that they threatened to kill us if he didn't leave town. He tried to get us to leave, but Mama wanted to stay. She had lived her whole life in that village. It meant a lot to her, and she wanted us to have that. They started fighting, and eventually, Mama kicked Papa out. That morning, Dad's gang came by. Mama ran out to tell them Papa wasn't here, and they, they shot her. The police showed up soon after that. I had grabbed you and hidden under the bed when I heard gunshots. The police found us and took us away. Then..." Sombra couldn't say any more, she already had tears running down the side of her face. Ray leaned in to hug her, crying even more than she was. That sat there on her bed, crying into each other's arms consoling each other. Eventually, they broke their hug and wiped their tears away.

"Sombra?" Ray asked after a good while. "Is that when they took us to the orphanage?" Sombra nodded. "Is that why Papa can only come see us once a year?" Sombra nodded again. Ray had only seen their father a few times in his life, and none of them very recently. Sombra had done some research, and he had apparently been arrested. He wouldn't get out of prison for another seven years.

Sombra checked the clock. It was late. Or early morning, if you wanted to be technical. "Ray, go back to your room. You'll get in trouble if they find you here." Ray nodded and started to walk away. "Wait, Ray," Her brother stopped, "I just want to tell you, our lives won't be like this forever. Tomorrow I'll do something, and we'll have enough money to run away and find a better life. I promise you, it will get better."

"You'll be safe, won't you, Sombra?" Sombra nodded. Ray smiled and ran back to his room.

----------

The next morning, Sombra was woken up by Marina screaming at the top of her lungs. "I swear to god if you're late to school again," She began. Sombra groaned. She had barely gotten any sleep last night.

Sombra rolled out of bed and threw together an outfit. "Shut up, Marina. I'll get there in time." She braced herself for the inevitable impact of a book against the back of her skull.

"Don't you speak to me that way! And don't skip either!"

Sombra laughed in her own head. Marina almost knew her too well. At the same time, she didn't know jack-shit about her. She didn't know about half the things she stole, and barely knew anything about what she'd been through. She didn't do half of what she was supposed to around the home. All she did was regulate her chores down to the kids and then boss them around. She grabbed her backpack and raced out the door, leaving behind the angry woman yelling obscenities through the door.

She walked through the street to her bus stop. The orphanage was in one of the more run-down parts of town. The streets were full of broken glass and addicts. Sombra couldn't figure out for the life of her how the government got away with something like that. She waited by the bus with a few other poor students. They had all learned not to talk to her a long time ago. The bus arrived a few minutes late. She was the last person on the bus, but no one dared take her spot.

Once she arrived at school, she ducked behind a wall and waited for the bell to ring. she ran over to a car and smashed the window. She hopped in after unlocking the door and hotwired the car. She took off as fast as she could. No one should notice anything until a while after she was done.

Around ten minutes later, she parked the car in an alleyway in the middle of the city. Sombra's heart beat like a drum in her chest. She had never done anything like this before. Shoplifting was one thing, this was in a whole other league. She peered around the corner at her target. The town's bank.

She ducked her head and pulled her hoodie up. Sombra looped around to the back of the building. She looked up. There was a fire escape a few floors up. She opened her backpack and pulled a rope tied to a hook out. Sombra prayed to whatever gods may or may not exist and threw it upwards. Luckily, it hooked onto the escape on her first try. She tugged on the rope a few times, and it held strong. She started to climb up the rope. Sombra reached up to pull herself up, then again, and again, and again. Her arms started to burn almost immediately. Sweat ran down the side of her face. she looked down. She was at least twenty feet off the ground. She looked up. She was at least 40 feet from the fire escape. She felt her heart drop. She almost dropped down and started again, but she knew it would only be harder next time. She stretched her arm up again. She swore her arms were going to catch on fire. She continued to climb, higher and higher. Sombra felt her grip slipping. She reminded herself of how much was on the line, and she kept climbing.

Sombra finally climbed to the fire escape. She rolled over and laid down on the fire escape. Her arms and legs were burning, she could barely feel them. Her clothes were drenched with sweat. She checked the time. 9:37. She had twenty-three minutes. Sombra pulled herself onto her feet, and then pulled herself onto the roof. She pulled out her laptop and connected it to the bank's access panel. After a few minutes, she had access to nearly anything in the bank. Sombra couldn't believe she had done it. She looked down into the bank through a sunroof. The bank had a few customers running back and forth, employees calmly walking back and forth grabbing cash from the drawers and vaults in the back.

Sombra's plan was simple. At ten sharp, the president was supposed to give a speech in front of the capitol building. She would mimic the security protocols as the employees and customers left to go to see the speech. Not too many people should notice her slipping into the building, so she should be free to run into the vault and shovel as much money as she could into her bag, and then run. She would restart her car and go pick up Ray at school, and they would flee the country.

She waited for the speech to start. the president walked out of the capitol building. The employees started to vacate the building, and she ran through the protocols. Lock the safes (not really). Lock the doors, turn off the computers, lock the front door, shut off the lights. The president began his speech. Sombra turned back to the trapdoor, but noticed a plane in the sky. She froze. They had surveillance of the speech. She thought all the security was on the ground, the speech was nearly a block away, she didn't think they would have a plane she started to pack her things into her bag, until suddenly,

KABOOM!

An explosion rang out. Sombra was thrown across the roof. It was an assassination attempt. They were trying to kill the president. Sombra had no idea how to react, she turned back to look at the town square. There were people running everywhere, the president's limp body was lying on the ground. At least, what was left of it. And he wasn't the only one. Dead bodies lay all over, bits and pieces sticking to the walls of cars and buildings. Sombra nearly vomited. She pulled herself back, and turned away from the carnage. She had no idea what to do. Should she go on with her plan? She wasn't sure. The bank may have been broken to pieces, the glass of the sunroof had broken in. She didn't know how to get to the ground.

She was starting to panic, she had no way out of this. If she jumped off the building, she would probably die. Shit, shit, shit. Sombra started to break down. Tears streamed down her cheeks. Why did should go along with this idiotic plan? She would probably be killed, and Ray would be completely alone. She didn't know what to do. Sombra curled up into a ball and cursed at herself. Stupid, stupid, stupid. She deserved this. She was a piece of shit. Ray was going to be alone and it was because she was such a terrible person. Why did she do this? This was so-

"What are you doing up here?"

Sombra turned around. A man was facing her. He wore a black cloak and a skull-shaped mask and was holding a gun in each hand. "Why are you up here?"

Sombra was shaking with fear, "I-I was going to ro-ob the ba-ank." She could barely spit the sentence out.

The man walked closer to her. She frantically pushed herself away from him. "You were going to rob this bank? You?!" Sombra nodded. The man walked closer to her.

"St-stay away!" Sombra yelled. She had no idea what was going on. All that she knew was that she was afraid and that this man was dangerous.

"Kid, I'm going to get you out of here. You want out of here, right?" Sombra nodded. "Okay, so I need you to stay still and be calm, okay?" Sombra nodded again. The man picked Sombra up and carried her to a helicopter. He sat her down and jumped into the pilot seat. He started to fly her out of the city, loud explosions going off left and right. "Kid, I know you're scared, but I want to say that what you did was very impressive." Sombra nodded, only half listening. She felt like she was forgetting something.

"My brother!" Sombra yelled. "We need to save my brother!"

The man shook his head. "We don't have enough time. Some South American countries got wind of the assassination attempt and took the opportunity to attack Mexico. We've got to get out of here as soon as we can."

"But my brother-"

"Is probably dead already." Sombra went silent. "It's a tough world. My organization, your government, and about a dozen other countries are effectively at war right now. Every war has casualties."

"But I promised to keep him safe." The man turned around to face her.

"That's a promise that you just can't keep." He turned back around in his chair. Sombra sat up and put her hand on the man's shoulder.

"Please," Sombra pleaded, "Can we try and find him. I'm all he has left." The man sighed. He slowed the helicopter.

"Where is he?"

They were at his school in a few minutes. Sombra looked down with horror. Bodies of young children lay all over the place. The walls that once held firm, standing for peace and education now lay broken by hate and devastation. Soldiers dressed in Mexican Army uniforms surrounded the area, firing into the school with complete disregard for what they were hitting, for the damage they were causing, for anything. "How could they do this?" Sombra asked. "How could Mexico just start killing its own people?"

"They aren't." The man responded. Sombra looked up at him. "It's some other country. Those uniforms are wrong. So are the guns their using. They're trying to frame the Mexican government, to make them look worse and get the world's support. It's a scam." Sombra sat down. She started to cry again.

"My brother's not going to make it, is he?" Sombra asked, hoping that the answer she knew was coming would somehow never arrive.

"No, he won't make it." The man answered. Sombra looked down and covered her face with her arms. She didn't look back up until they were far, far away from the city that had stolen so much from her.

--------

Sombra wiped tears away from her face. "I'm sorry, Mercy, it's just it still hurts, I-I still miss them all so much."

Mercy stared down at her feet. She had tried to prepare herself for something like this. Most of the stories started with something like this. But nothing she ever did could prepare herself for the pain and suffering that came along with them. She was struggling to hold back tears herself. After a long, uncomfortable silence, she decided it was time to talk one more. "Reaper saw that you had potential as a member of Talon, so he kidnapped you." Sombra nodded. "Did he really care? About what happened to you?"

Sombra knew what Mercy meant. "I still don't know. Most of the time I think he did, but, after seeing how he lied to our victims, to civilians and our targets, I keep thinking that it was all a fraud. A scam." She looked back up at Mercy. "Talon did terrible things. Not just to me, to lots of people. I always tried to stop it, in some way. Give civilians forewarning, try to convince the higher-ups that there was a better way. But Reaper, he just accepted it. He lied to them, to himself, said he was okay with everything he had done when it was obvious that nothing was further from the truth. I don't know if him taking me was one last human act or just a strategical move. I don't know if anything he did for me was real."

They sat there in a heavy, sullen silence. The air felt suffocating like it clung to the walls of their throat. Eventually, Mercy spoke. "I think that's enough for today. I'll let you out to see the rest of the compound. Under supervision, of course." Sombra nodded. She was happy to see the sign of trust. These people, or Mercy at least, we're starting to understand her. Not completely, but at least a little.

Chapter Text

"So what do you guys think?"

The room fell silent. Winston's question remained unanswered. Mercy was escorting Sombra around the compound while the rest of Overwatch, or at least those not on a mission, discussed their next course of action.

A man in a cowboy hat stepped forward. "If no one else has got anything to say, the I'll open this can o' worms. She should be put in prison."

"What?! That's ridiculous, McCree!" Tracer shouted from across the room. "Didn't you listen to anything she said? She needs help!"

"Then she should have found it. She's not powerless. She can make her own choices." McCree responded. "I don't care how tragic her backstory is. She can't go around and murder people and then avoid all responsibility."

Winston furrowed his brow. "McCree, you did a lot of terrible things before joining Overwatch. You did a lot of bad things in Overwatch. Of all people, I would have thought you would empathize with Sombra."

"Exactly." McCree countered. "And that's why I'm the best qualified to say when it's the world's fault and when it's her fault. She could've backstabbed Talon at any time. She could've run away at any time. But she chose not to."

"I believe the phrase is most qualified." A woman in a hood stepped forward. "But then again, English isn't my first language."

"Ana, this is important. Don't barge in just to correct someone's grammar." Another woman in armor across the room butted in.

Ana turned her head. "I have a point, Pharah, my dear." She turned back to McCree. "Prison isn't a good idea. She outsmarted Talon, a prison couldn't hold her."

"So we keep her here, then." McCree countered.

"Waste of resources." A man, silent up to this point, quickly interjected. Most of his face was covered by a visor, and what was visible was scarred and wrinkled. "We'll have to keep at least one person here just to watch her, and that's if they pull an all-nighter. We'll probably need at least two, plus Winston or Torbjorn to keep all the automatic defenses running." He finally turned to the rest of the crowd. "We're stretched thin as it is. We don't have the manpower to babysit her."

"So let's give her a chance!" Tracer exclaimed. "If she turns out to be alright, she would be a huge asset. We wouldn't have to worry about her causing trouble."

McCree snickered. "We wouldn't have to worry about her causing trouble if we pit a bullet through her head, either." The room fell silent.

"Is that in then?" The woman in armor, Pharah, spoke up. "We either kill her or take her in?" Heads looked down, and feet shuffled awkwardly. No one dared to speak. Suddenly, a thought struck Pharah. "Zenyatta?" She called out. "You've been here the entire time, and haven't said a word. Obviously, you must at least be thinking about it. What do you make of all this?"

All heads in the room turned to the omnic. Zenyatta's head remained lurched over, staring at the floor. The sound of electricity buzzing through his circuits was acutely audible throughout the room. The whirring continued for solid minute, then stopped as his head snapped up and he prepared to speak. "McCree does have a point. This woman is clearly competent. She chose to leave Talon when she did."

"See!" McCree yelled, only to be silenced by the omnic's hand.

"The fact remains that there are very important factors that we still remain ignorant to." Zenyatta lowered his hand. "The mission she was involved in centered around a new type of technology, technology that information leads us to believe was a weapon. A weapon that she destroyed. We know Sombra had arranged for this technology to be transported to the base. This was obviously a very complicated plan to a very complex goal. We need to know what her ends were. Only the can we judge her character."

"So that is it, then," McCree said. "We need to talk to her."

--------

"And these are the barracks."

Sombra looked down the hallway. Doors lined the hallway, each about six yards away from the next. Sombra could see about thirty doors before the hallway turned to the left, fifteen on each side. Mercy had been showing Sombra around the Watchpoint for the last half hour. Despite her best efforts, Sombra couldn't helped but be bored out of her mind. She swore, this woman could give a lecture on the correct way to brush one's teeth. She probably already had. She was trying to appreciate what she was doing for her. She had let her out of her cell and was trying to entertain her. Sombra only wished she was good at it.

"This is where my girlfriend, Pharah, they call her, this is where she and I sleep." Mercy said. Sombra couldn't help but smirk at that. Somehow, there were still a lot of homophobic people in her hometown, and meeting other gay people made her feel like she was somehow spiting them.

"Shame to know you're taken." Sombra replied cheekily. Mercy just rolled her eyes.

"I'll take that as a compliment." Mercy turned back to her room. "Anyway, Winston and I used to share this room, we're both scientists you see, but he liked to spend more of his time in the lab. He's always been a bit of a downer. Anyway, he had basically moved out of the room anyway, and after we got together, well, it just made sense."

Mercy turned back to Sombra and waited for a response. "Oh sorry, was I supposed to give a shit?" Sombra smirked. Mercy frowned.

"You know, we're taking a big chance here. You could be trying to backstab us. You should try to be a little more grateful." Sombra frowned. She felt a small pang of guilt in her gut. She would normally ignore it, she had gotten very good at it over the years, but she had decided she liked these people. They had given her a chance, and she wanted to give them a chance. Chances like that were the only reason she was still here.

"I'm sorry," Sombra said. Mercy looked at her, expectantly. Sombra turned around and continued. "I know you're trying, I know you're taking a chance with this, it's just, this isn't exactly where I was planning to be today."

Mercy smirked. "Where did you think you were going to be today?" The two woman stared each other down. The question seemed like a challenge, but Mercy's playful smile let Sombra knew she wasn't expecting an answer. It was just a jab at her, she was toying with her. Sombra smirked. Sombra was starting to like this Mercy more. It really was a shame she was taken.

A loud beep interrupted their mock confrontation. Mercy reached into her pocket and pulled out some sort of what looked like a cellphone, except much blockier and with a small, button operated keyboard. Sombra guessed it was some sort of PDA designed to stand adverse conditions. "Yes, she's right here..." Mercy began to talk into the communicator. "No, she hasn't tried anything... Yes, I can do that... We'll be there shortly." She closed the communicator and turned to Sombra.

Sombra raised her eyebrow. "What was that?"

"They want to talk to you. They want to know what you plan was."

--------

Sombra drummed her fingers on the table nervously. Every eye in the room was on her. She could hardly make out the faces of everyone in the room due to how dark it was. Why were interrogation rooms always so dark? She waited for someone to speak up.

"So what, are we just going to stand around and look menacing forever?" Tracer said with a laugh, trying to cut through the tension.

The cowboy stood up and slammed his fists on the table. "Dammit, Tracer! We're trying to be serious here!"

"More like overdramatic, McCree. Trying to make us look like the villains in some gangster movie. Why you'd have us shut off the lights anyway?" Tracer retorted.

"It works!" McCree yelled, throwing his hands up. The rest of the room burst out laughing. McCree himself couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Well, there's no point in trying anymore." He walked over and turned on the lights.

After the laughter had settled, Sombra decided to speak up. "Why is it that you called us in here? You wanted to know something, right?" The tension immediately flooded back into the room. Even Tracer's permanently bright face darkened.

"We want to know what your plan was." Zenyatta's voice rang out, in the unmistakable way of an intercom over a school building. It was only remarkable in this scenario due to how strangely soft it was. Instead of feeling like dagger cutting into her persona, it felt almost, reassuring. "You did have one, correct?"

"Yes." Sombra replied swiftly,"I did. Thanks for screwing it up." Sombra could feel McCree's distasteful comment coming.

"Why you-" McCree began, before being cut off.

"Lesbian piece of shit? Waste of perfectly good oxygen? Bomb throwing anarchist? I've got more." Sombra playfully interrupted. She was determined to stand her ground in the conversation. Having control of the conversation gave her more power. She still needed to feel powerful.

McCree slammed his fist on the table. "God dammit!" He began to yell but was yet again interrupted.

This time it was Ana who interjected. "Please, you two. This won't get us anywhere. Sombra, we do want to help you. This insubordination only makes it more difficult. We can't reach an understanding if you keep trying to fight us." She turned to her fellow teammate. "McCree, please stop antagonizing her. She has a lot of reasons to distrust us, don't give her more." The room fell into an uncomfortable silence. Sombra felt at least somewhat guilty about the whole thing. "Sombra, continue." Sombra didn't like being ordered around but didn't want to make a scene right after being called out.

"Where do you want me to start?" Sombra turned to the woman in the corner. "As you can imagine, it is a long ass story."

Ana cocked her head to the side and considered. After a short moment, she responded. "How about you go ahead and tell us what the entire attack was about in the first place. What was that thing you were talking about? The 'MEMP'?"

"Oh, that old thing? Just a brand new weapon of mass destruction is all." Sombra replied as a joke.

"Really? How destructive is it? Surely it can't be that much worse than a nuclear bomb?" This time the old man responded. Mercy had introduced them when they entered, Sombra thought he was called soldier something or other. Soldier 76, yeah, that was right.

"Oh, I would say it is. Not in the way you think so, though." Sombra waited for their looks of confusion. "It would have the same sort of effect, but it's not nuclear. It electrical. It stands for Mass Electrical Malfunction Pulse. It infects all machinery complex enough and shuts them down. Sometimes they shutoff, sometimes they go haywire, sometimes they might even go boom. The Russians designed it to deal with-"

"Omnics." Zenyatta interrupted. All eyes turned to him. "Am I correct?" Sombra nodded. Zenyatta looked down. "People always hate what they cannot understand. They put others down so they themselves seem higher. Tribalism is a cure humanity has always had to bear. This time circumstances have given new opportunities for cruelty."

"Yeah," Sombra replied to just to fill the space. It was hard to follow such words, especially when they came from such an earnest place. "Just couldn't miss the opportunity to show how wise and mystical you are, huh, monk?" Everyone let out an awkward chuckle. No one wanted to hold on to the tension in the air. Sombra sighed. "Anyway, the US found it and started to study it. They figured out hat it was and then began working on a way to counter it. And then," She paused for effect, "to replicate it. They were willing to kill the omnics too, just to become even more powerful."

McCree spoke up after Sombra finished. "Wait, Tracer said Raper said you had planned for the Americans to find the thing, right?" Sombra nodded. McCree furrowed his brow, trying to understand.

Suddenly, Winston's voice rang out. "That was your plan! You were counting on them trying to replicate the device so you could blackmail them by releasing those files!" Sombra smirked, it felt good to hear his amazement at her plan. The rest of the people int the room, however, seemed confused. Oh, right, they don't know about the files.

"I downloaded some file at the base. They detailed the origin of the weapon and the US's plan to copy it. I planned to release them after word of the attack was spread by the media." Sombra explained.

"To what end?" Pharah asked. Sombra had remembered her name due to her conversation with Mercy. She thought they made a cute couple. "What was your plan afterward?"

Sombra started to chuckle. This was the part of the plan she really liked. "I planned to release them with a video I made. I would claim that this attack was administered by a new group of, well, terrorists that I lead in order to preserve Omnic life. To stand up to the governments that don't care about the lives of their own people" She stood up, excited by her own genius. "Think about it. Tensions in both countries are rising now. SO many people in both countries are pissed because of how much bullshit their governments have pulled. Russia's on the brink of civil war, and people are growing more restless in the US by the day. WIth this information out, along with the message I made, people would rebel. I would find some recruits around the world, then start attacking the US and Russia. The current Russian government would most likely fall if a civil war broke out, and the US would have to finally reinvent its ways. The two biggest superpowers in the world, the countries responsible for the world being as screwed up as it is would have to change. I could finally fix the world!" Sombra finished.

She stared around the world. Looks of disbelief and shock painted the faces of Overwatch's crewmembers. Once the magnitude of her plan settled in, Tracer spoke up. "Sombra, do you have any idea how many lives would be lost if you started a war with the world leaders?" She looked at Sombra sorrowfully, almost as if she was, disappointed in her.

"Do YOU have any idea how many I could save?! The US and Russia are starving other countries, and the people are too complacent or scared to do anything about it. My plan fixes both problems." Sombra responded.

Zenyatta was the next to challenge her. "You cannot fight hate with more hate. Only understanding can erase hate. Every hand your actions would raise in the name of your cause, another would be raised in favor of oppression."

"Oh, please," Sombra spat back. "People aren't stupid enough to think that these weapons are okay! No one would side with the fascist assholes abusing them if I called them to strike back."

"Yes, they would," McCree said. "People are a lot dumber than you think. A lot of people would say setting these things off all over the world would end the problem by getting rid of all the omnics. People are complete morons when it comes to recognizing that they're wrong." He chuckled to himself. "I figured someone as arrogant as you would know how dumb people are."

Sombra sat down with a huff. She was starting to get a little-worked up. "Okay, so maybe there would a few people siding with the government would get pissy. But this could still work! People would be finally be called to action, things would finally get better!"

This time, Pharah spoke up."Even then, innocent lives would be lost. It's unjust to put the innocent at risk to cause change."

Sombra slammed her hand on the table. "Innocent lives are already being lost! People are having riots against omnics! The Russian government is helping them! I can't let that continue! I'm going to do something, DAMMIT!" Sombra stopped to catch her breath. She hadn't realized how loudly she had said that. She had almost been screaming. She could feel the others staring at her. It suddenly made her want to leave the room. Not that she could. She was trapped.

That thought scared Sombra. For the first time during her capture, Sombra felt fear. These people had no problem killing others. They wanted to protect the innocent, sure, but they still killed the guilty people. People like her. She started to breathe heavily. She tried to stop herself, and succeeded, to a degree. Not here. Anywhere else, but not here.

"Fine. Fine. Go ahead, sit on your asses and do nothing. Go on with your lives, but I won't. Even if you try to kill me, I won't sit here and do nothing. I'm going to help all those people, dammit. People are being hurt every day in the name of peace. I won't let them be hurt by uncaring assholes the way I was." Sombra heard a tear splatter against the floor. Shit, how long had she been crying? She must have looked so weak, god she wanted to hide. She knew she couldn't though, which made it so much worse.

Sombra sat down and tried to calm herself down. The crew of Overwatch must have decided to lay off and give her space, because most of them turned away and shrunk back. She did everything she had taught herself to do, but none of it worked. She was hurt in a way she hadn't been in a long time. These people had questioned her morals, her beliefs, her convictions. No one at Talon had ever asked her something like that. All they cared about is that she was good at her job. Maybe they were right. Maybe she had just assumed that she was right because Talon was wrong. Maybe she was a bad person. She was trying to help people, she knew that. But Pharah was right. Innocent people were being hurt by her actions. She had killed so many people, but it was all for a good reason, right?

Then, she thought of her brother. He was killed to further a cause. Those people were power-hungry, sure, but maybe they thought that that was what was best for their families. Maybe she was hurting people the exact way she had been hurt.

At that thought, Sombra collapsed in on herself. She covered her face with her hands. All the repressed guilt she had ben stowing way for years flooded into her. God, she was an awful person. Why had she ever thought otherwise? Her sobs grew louder. She started to hiccup and cry and sob. God, she was so weak. She was pathetic. She was a terrible, awful waste of space and the world would be better off without her.

"I'm such a piece of shit. I killed so many people, and I-I never even felt sorry for it." She said under her breath. It had been much louder than she had wanted it to be. Noises filled the room as people shuffled their feet uncomfortably She badgered herself for that too, just one more straw on the pile of everything she had screwed up.

"No, you're not." A kind voice said to her, as softly as it could. It was Tracer. "We all had to do hard things. You had a rough life. You were surrounded by people who were either selfish of had given up. But you know what?" Sombra looked up at the other woman. She couldn't imagine how pathetic she must have looked. "You never did. You still tried to help people, no matter how hard it got. And that means, that in at least some way, your a good person." Tracer hugged her, and Sombra couldn't help but cry into her shoulder.

"I agree." Zenyatta's voice said from across the room. "Considering your adverse conditions, your empathy for others is admirable." The room filled with murmurs of agreement and Sombra felt a wave of embarrassment. She didn't deserve this. She hugged Tracer more tightly and felt the other woman start to run her fingers through her hair.

They sat there like that until Sombra's sobs stifled. Tracer retracted from their embrace, and Soldier 76 stood up to speak. "All right," he began, "Mercy, please take Sombra out into the hall again. We all need to discuss what to do." Mercy stood up, walked to and opened the door, and beckoned to Sombra with a wave of her hand. Sombra stood up and walked out.

"Goodbye, luv!" Tracer's cheery voice called out to her, and Sombra couldn't help but smile.

---------

She and Mercy sat in the hall in silence for a good while. Only once had the blonde woman tried to start a conversation, and she had immediately stopped once Sombra didn't respond. Sombra was thankful for that. She didn't want to talk right now, she was too embarrassed. After all her bitching and complaining, the fact that they would be there for her like that, it made her feel, small. She was still glad for it, though. They had really helped her.

Eventually, the door opened. Sombra and Mercy instinctively stood up. Ana spoke up. "We've made a decision. Sombra, we would be very glad if you would be the newest member of Overwatch."

Sombra was surprised. She had expected to be left at the Watchpoint, or relocated into a small village, or something but not this. "Really? I thought, wouldn't it be better to just leave me here in the cell?"

Soldier 76 shook his head. "Waste of resources. This way, we can watch you and get something out of it."

"Not only that, but we think you deserve a chance," Ana added.

Sombra sat there in silence for a few seconds. Eventually, the ever impatient Tracer couldn't wait any longer. "Well, come on then! What do you think?"

Sombra chuckled. "It's not like I really have much of a choice here, huh?

"So you'll join?" Tracer asked. Sombra nodded, and Tracer jumped up with joy. "Oh, I just knew you would!" She ran over and hugged the other woman, making Sombra blush. Just a bit.

Everyone clapped and applauded, and a small celebration started. Eventually, Sombra struck up a conversation with Pharah. They were talking about Egyptian culture, which leads to them talking about religion being used to control people, which lead to them talking about oppression and governments. Before they could move on to the next talking point (Civil Disobedience), Tracer interrupted them.

"I almost forgot, luv! How'd you like my cooking?" Tracer asked.

"You're cooking?" Sombra questioned, dumbfounded. "Oh! The pancakes you left me. I-uh, I didn't eat them."

"What! Well, you must be starving by now!" Tracer responded. Sombra nodded again. It was true, she hadn't noticed until no but she was very hungry. "Well, that's just not right! Wait, here, I'll,l go get my wallet and we'll go get you some food! Oh! I know a great restaurant near here, we'll go together, and you'll get fed and see the town! It'll be great! Just wait here, I'll be right back!" WIth that, Tracer ran back to the barracks and Sombra was left completely dumbfounded.

"What... just happened?"

"Well," Pharah said, "I think you just got a date."

Chapter Text

How was your day?" the ever-enthusiastic woman asked Sombra. Sombra raised her eyebrow.

"How do you think, Tracer? I was captured and interrogated, broke down and cried, and haven't eaten in twenty hours. So I think that my situation speaks for itself." That kept Tracer quiet. The other woman slowed her pace and stared at her feet, obviously feeling somewhat guilty. Sombra sighed. She hadn't meant to come off so,... aggressive. She put her hand on Tracer's shoulder. "But I guess we are solving one of those problems right now, aren't we?" The other woman smiled.

"You bet we are! Oh! I know this one great place just a few blocks from here, come on!" Tracer nearly shouted, than took off. It appeared that Tracer was going to make good on her promise to buy Sombra lunch, and this time Sombra had no qualms with accepting her generosity. Sombra only wished she would slow down. She was nearly impossibe to keep up with. She was even using her chronal accelerator to go faster, despite it wasting energy and attracting a lot of attention.

She rounded the corner to see Tracer waving at her with the biggest, dopiest smile Sombra had ever seen. "Here's the place, luv!" She pointed a a large sign. Sombra studied the restraunt. It was fairly large, not a fancy place but not a run down diner in the slightest. In big, spruced up letters a sign reading The Plaza was resting over the top of the building. A Mexican restraunt. Tracer had taken her to a Mexican restraunt. She turned to Tracer, who was completely oblivious to any sort of implication her choice of dining may or may not have had. After a few moments, Sombra decided it was better to address the issue than to leave it alone. It was very likely that Tracer wasn't even thinking about it.

Sombra tilted her head to the side. "A Mexican place, huh?"

Tracer smile refused to waver. "Yup!" Tracer then noticed the other woman's rigid posture, and her smile faded. "What is it? Do you not like Mexican food?"

Sombra laughed, leaving Tracer even more confused. "Oh no, of course I do. I've eaten it my entire life, after all." It was only then that the implications of the situation occurred to Tracer.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry I didn't mean anything, honestly I just..." Tracer was cut off by Sombra laughing once more. Sombra shook her head lightheartedly.

"Let's just go in. I'm still really hungry, after all." Sombra replied, and then waited for the other woman's persistent smile to reappear. She thought that the other woman was much cuter when she was smiling.

After what seemed to be a much longer amount of time than it really was, the two woman were escorted to a seat. A bowl of tortilla chips and another bowl of queso were brought to the table, and Somra began to eat them enthusiasticly. After a few minutes, though, she noticed the stares and murmurs from around the restraunt, all pointed squarely at her and Tracer. She slowed her pace, and both women sat in awkward silence while everyone tried and failed to look at the two without being obvious. Tracer occassionally tried to make idle conversation, but the room felt too heavy and the atmosphere wqa too uninviting for Sombra to engage in small alk. So the pair sat there with their orders memorized backwards and forwards, waiting for the waiter to return.

Finally, he did, and they both ordered. Tracer got the #1 combo with a medium soda, and Sombra ordered a large plate of enchiladas and a tequila. The waiter left and Tracer snickered at Sombra. "Really? You're ordering alcohol this early?"

Sombra smiled. "Hey, after how today's gone, I deserve a drink. And what's with you, ordering the simplest, fastest meal they have? It's like you don't want to spend anytime thinking about your order or something."

Tracer mocked offense. "How dare you! The number one combo is an excellent choice in find dining, and soda is considered the best accompaniment to such a classic dish." Both woman burst out laughing. Finally, the air was clear of suspicion and hostility. Sombra had gotten enough of both today to serve her the rest of her life. She was thankful for this chance to relax.

"Well," Sombra said, a bit quieter than before, "At least now the other customers aren't staring at us like we got out of the loony bin."

Tracer laughed, and answered just as loudly as before, if not more so, "Oh don't worry luv, you'll get a lot of those stares as part of Overwatch squad six!" Sombra chuckled but was slightly confused.

"Squad six?" She questioned.

"Oh, right! You don't know about that yet. You've been assigned to squad six of Overwatch. We have squads to get everything all organized and what not. I think it was Winston's idea, maybe Angela's... Anyway! You and I are on the same squad! Well, us and McCree."

Sombra raised and eyebrow. "McCree? The cowboy?" Tracer nodded. "Ugh, now everyone's definitely going to think we go out of the loony bin. I mean, look at us! You didn't even let me change! I'm still wearing this ratty old tank top and a pair of pajamas!" Both women shared a laugh, before the same uneasiness filled the air. Sombra searched for something to say, but found her mind blank. She drummed her fingers on the table, and Tracer shifted uncomfortably in her chair. Luckily, the waiter showed up soon enough.

"Here's your cola, ma'am. And," he continued, "Your tequila, ma'am. Starting a bit early today, I see." The waiter joked cautiously, not wanting to overstep his bounds.

Sombra was glad he did. "Hey, what can I say, I'm a busy woman. I have, like, three hits after this I've got to get on, and they're not going to be easy, either." Tracer snorted into her glass.

"Well I certainly hope I'm not on the list." Tracer replied, laughing as she said it.

"Hmm, that will depend," Sombra leaned in for effect, "How much you got on you?" Both women shared a chuckle, and the waiter walked off. The rest of the meal was much smoother after that. The two found topics to talk about easy enough, and the other patrons seemed to have finally decided to mind their own damn business.

-----------

An hour and several glasses of tequila later, and Tracer ended up having to mostly carry Sombra back to base. "I really don't understand how you could have drank that much in only thirty minutes." Tracer said, and even though she was mad, her tone could only be described as grumpy.

"Hey, when you get free refills, you've got to take advantage of it," Sombra said, nearly falling over.

"They weren't free! They cost nearly thirty-five dollars all together!" Tracer replied erratically. No matter how angry she was, Sombra couldn't take her seriously. She laughed and fell over.

"Well maybe you should think a little more next time before offering to buy me lunch." Sombra barely managed to get out before collapsing in another fir of laughter.

Tracer sighed, and smiled. "God what are going to do with you." She tried to get Sombra's attention for a brief moment, before realizing she had fallen asleep. And that was how Traced ended up having to carry a very irresponsible Sombra back to base while she drooled on her shoulder and murmured strange things about the Illuminati and giraffes.

--------

Sombra awoke god know when with a head ache and an empty stomach. She moaned, and rubbed her head. She refused to take her head out from under the covers. Loud noise flooded into the room from groaned again. This time it was answered by a gentle voice. A gentle voice that was speaking very loudly. "Hey, sleepy head! How'd Dreamland treat ya?!" Tracer. Why was Tracer in her- wait. What room was she in? She picked her head up and looked out from under the covers. The room was filled with old pilot jackets, omnic peace posters and a very perky woman. That woman seemed to notice Sombra's discomfort. Tracer sat down next to Sombra and put her hand on her shoulder to comfort her. "There, there," she said, rubbing her hand down Sombra's back. "You okay?" Sombra shook her head, Tracer frowned. "Are you hungover?" Sombra nodded, and Tracer sighed. "Are you hungry?" Sombra nodded again. "Wait here. I'll go get you some supper and ask them to quiet down for you." Sombra lied there in what she assumed was Tracer's bed for a few minutes. The other woman returned with a plate of chicken and a cup of coffee.

"Thanks." Sombra managed. Tracer smiled.

"Just sit here until you fell better, alright luv?" Tracer said, and Sombra nodded a final time. Tracer left Sombra in the room, and Sombra sat up and ate. These are nice people. She thought to herself. I'm happy they found me instead of Talon. She frowned. I wish they had found me instead of Talon back in Mexico. Somnra lied down to lick her wounds. Unfortunately, the world didn't want to give her a break. She noticed a distinct lack of noise coming from the hallway, followed by murmurs.

A distinct voice rose above the others. "We need to tell her," It was Winston. She heard footsteps in the hallway. Tracer flung the door open.

"Sombra, you need to see this." Tracer said. Sombra sighed heavily. So much for peace and quiet.

Chapter Text

"The hurricane continues to gain power over the Atlantic Ocean. The Coast Guard and other organizations are already preparing for the imminent impact of Hurricane Heather. Preparations include-"

The television cut to static as the channel changed. It no longer displayed a reporter rambling on on some beach in Florida, and instead showed an old, grey-haired man doing his best to look serious. His scowl was so deep and his brow furrowed, with his arm resting on the desk in front of him. It looked like he had taken a page out of the "Cliche serious stares" book. (As if that actually existed.) It was almost comical, until Sombra saw the headlines.

War Imminent: US Forces Prepare To Mobilize

The man began to speak in a slow, solemn tone. "Two nights ago, at 0400 hours, an attack was launched on an American military base. Over a hundred lives were lost."

An image appeared in the upper left hand corner of the screen. It showed the military base Talon had attacked. That Sombra had attacked. "Investigators have spent hours trying to figure out who was responsible for the attack. Mercenaries were found at the scene, and after being questioned, they reported that Russia had hired them to recover technology lost in a recent ship crash. Additionally, they were given orders to kill all personnel found on the site and recover any American technology they could."

The image changed, this time to a plane. One with the Overwatch insignia on the side. "Furthermore, Overwatch was found on the scene. Several rescued personnel related a story in which the Overwatch crew had stopped the mercenaries and moved the survivors to safety. However, they also all say the crew took one of the mercenaries with them. For what purpose is unknown."

The image changed yet again, this time to three sinking ships. The Russian flag could be seen flying over the smoking wreckage. "This situation escalated when three Russian ships were found near the wreckage of the original crash site, where the original Russian technology was recovered by the US. The crash site was in US waters, and by international law, as the crashed Russian ship was a military ship and entered the area unauthorized, the technology belonged to the US. After being asked to leave the crash site several times, where the Russians were presumably trying to dive for the lost resources, the US military engaged. You can see the result."

The image changed one more time, now to the outside of a building. A man lay dead on the ground, medical cars were strewn across the landscape. "And as we all know, Congressman Long was assassinated in Russia last night."

Their was no image on the screen now. Just the man, staring directly into the camera. He paused, and the camera centered and zoomed in on him. "As we speak, Congress is going through a vote for a declaration of war. Russia has already responded with a declaration of war on the US. Their Navy is already mobilizing. It's hard to know what's to come in the next few days, but I can say this. We must stay strong, America. We must stay united, we must-"

The screen turned off. "That's enough of that," Winston said quietly. Or as quietly as he could. He stared at Sombra. Silence filled the room.

I really regret all those drinks now. Sombra's head beat like a drum. She could practically feel all the pressure closing in on her head. The shock had worn off quickly, with all the time that old man had given, gassing on like that. She felt like she needed to say something. It was hard to think, let alone speak with all the pressure on Sombra at the moment. She rubbed her fingers against her temple. She tried to go over everything she had just heard. The US was blaming the attacks on Russia. Why?

"Talon," Sombra grumbled. If all eyes weren't on her already, they certainly were now. "Talon is up to this. They must have gotten to those mercenaries, made them make up that story." Another thought suddenly struck her. "They must've killed that Congressman, too. They're trying to start a war."

"Certainly seems that way." A familiar voice said. It was McCree, the cowboy. And her partner. Ugh. That was going to take some getting used to. "With all this commotion, a few more pushes and we could be looking at Double yuh double yuh Three." He glared at Sombra. "Not that you've done a lot to help." Sombra glared right back at him. What was this guy's problem?

"Hey, guys," Tracer began, an uncertain grin on her face.

"Shut up, Tracer." McCree snapped. That pissed Sombra off. Maybe it was that the girl had been nice to her, maybe she was just looking for a chance to flip out. Either way, she snapped.

"Don't talk to her like that!" Sombra yelled. Everyone was taken aback. Sombra stood up. "I don't know what's up with you, but I'm tired of you acting like an asshole to everyone. All you've done since I got here was complain and blame other people for shit. Tracer, on the other hand, has actually done something! She rescued the survivors. She tried to talk to me. She was just now trying to help the both of us! And you know what, because of her, I'm probably going to help you guys fix this shit. " Sombra ended with a huff. McCree pressed his lips together, still indignant. He stood up, and walked past Sombra.

"If it weren't for you, there'd be nothin' to fix." He said. That was it. Sombra turned around and slammed her fist right into that stupid cowboys face. Or at least she tried. McCree seemed to see it coming, and grabbed her fist, and used it as leverage to flip Sombra onto the ground. Next thing she knew, Sombra was flat on the ground with one arm being held behind her back and McCree on top of her.

Suddenly, a voice rang out through the room. "Stop. NOW." The voice was metallic and authoritative. McCree hesitated, but let go of Sombra. Zenyatta continued. "We cannot continue like this. We must find some compromise, some way to end your quarrels." Sombra almost laughed at that. He's got to be the most pretentious person I've ever met. "Before that, it would seem we all should get some rest. It's 10 o'clock right now, and today has been less than peaceful. We should give ourselves some time to relax."

Mercy spoke up next, eager to end the confrontation. "Zenyatta's right. Off to bed, everyone." Sombra was amazed at how everyone seemed to obey her orders.

After a moment of silence, Sombra spoke up. "I don't have a bed."

Mercy smiled. "Of course you do. This way."

-------

Sombra tossed and turned in her bed. Try as she might, she couldn't sleep. She lay on a small, white cot in a small, dark room. Mercy had escorted her to a room identical in dimensions to Tracer's, the closet was even in the same place, but it lacked any furnishings besides the bed itself. She assumed that that was up to her. The room was dark, only a small amount of light trickled in through a window and curtain from the outside world. It was nice, but it felt empty, almost foreboding. She needed to get a desk, maybe some posters. Definitely a computer.

Sombra rolled onto her side. She felt too tired to fall asleep. She was exhausted, but the fallout from her earlier breakdowns, compounded with the recent news made her mind buzz constantly. Her hangover certainly didn't help.

She let out a long sigh. Zenyatta was right. She certainly needed a break. She rolled over again. Her eyelids felt heavy, her arms and legs ached. She let out a long sigh and started to count down from a hundred in Spanish, then in English. It was an old trick she had learned to got to sleep, as well as to practice her English. Talon had insisted. Sombra scoffed. She was beginning to resent them more and more with Overwatch's every act of kindness.

That thought caught her off guard. Maybe she was letting them grow on her to quickly. Ugh. She was too tired for this. She decided to postpone her analyzation of the situation (Sombra had always liked wordplay) until tomorrow. She rolled over, and with some difficulty, drifted off to sleep.

---------

Sombra awoke the next morning to find her old clothes in her room. Apparently Overwatch had began to trust her. Or maybe she looked even more terrible in this outfit than she had initially thought. She chuckled at her jab at herself. She changed quickly, and stepped into the hallway. She started down the hallway, then turned down a few quick turns before she had realized that she had absolutely no idea where the hell she was going maybe if every hallway didn't look identical. Ugh.

Sombra checked the time with the computers on her suit. 9:13. That felt so satisfying. She paused, and closed her eyes, trying to remember where the kitchen was. Maybe she should have been paying attention during Mercy's tour. She was just so boring though. Sombra defaulted to wandering aimlessly until she recognized where she was. It was the meeting room, where she had talked to the crew last night. She recognized the TV. So that means the kitchen was that way...

A few minutes later, and Sombra found Tracer in conversation with someone, who the hell was that?!It looked like an omnic, but he was missing several key features. None of their signature blue lights were present. She raised her hand.

"Uh, Tracer, who's that?" She asked.

Tracer let out of shriek of surprise and tumbled out of her chair, rustling a chuckle out of Sombra. "Sombra! You're awake!" Tracer yelped out while still on the floor. God, Sombra couldn't believe she had been captured by this goofball. But something about the way she had said that was suspicious. Had they been talking about her?

Tracer pulled herself up. "Oh! This is Genji, he's a cyborg. He got messed up by his brother. It was bad. He nearly died!" She said in the most chipper tone. Sombra could've sworn she saw Genji facepalm.

"Okay, why haven't I seen him before now?" Sombra questioned.

"I was on a mission. Doing important stuff. Being a badass." Genji said. Sombra chuckled. This guy seemed cool.

"Well, it's nice to meet you, Genji," Sombra said and extended her hand out to the cyborg ninja. That's so cool.

Genji looked at her hand. It was hard to tell what was going through his head with that mask. "Psst." Tracer interrupted. "You're supposed to shake her hand."

Genji made an 'ooh' sound like that wasn't incredibly obvious. He extended his hand and shook her hand in one of the most incorrect ways Sombra could have ever imagined. Sombra had to try really hard not to laugh. "So, do we have any food?" Sombra asked.

Tracer lit up, and the trio had a quick breakfast. Or at least she and Tracer did. Genji told Sombra that he didn't eat in public, or much at all with his implants. He did like to cook, however, and he kicked ass at it. Sombra didn't think pancakes could taste so good.

Eventually, others started to poor into the room, one at a time. Apparently, after the declaration of war, all Overwatch members were called back to base. First it was Pharah, who mostly sat silently by herself adding only a few words here and there. Next was Zenyatta, who was even quieter than Pharah. He didn't eat, either. Then Ana, who seemed to make quite a hobby of picking on Pharah, who was apparently her daughter. (You learn something new every day.) Then, two new faces appeared. One was a sort Chinese woman named Mei, and the other an old war omnic from the Bastion line. Apparently, that was his "name". They had been on a mission as well, with Genji apparently. Then McCree came in, and the two exchanged glares from across the room. Soon the whole center was filled with people. Torbjorn, Soldier 76, Lucio, a small girl who called herself 'DVa ', Winston, Reinhardt, Mercy, god there were so many of them. Then again, this was every member. In the grand scheme of things, this was a fairly small group.

Discussions broke out throughout the whole room. People laughed and joked. they even shared a few memes with each about someone called 'Harambe'. Winston seemed annoyed. Sombra had needed this. Tracer's help was nice, but it was nothing like this. At one point, McCree and Sombra were left mostly alone, as the rest of the crew was watching something on a hologram projector. McCree had a strange look on his face. He turned to the rest of the crew, then back to Sombra. He sighed.

"Hey, Sombra," McCree said. She turned to him. "I'm sorry." She hadn't expected that.

Sombra cocked her head. "For what?" She asked.

McCree sighed and fumbled with his revolver. "Sorry for, hitting you I guess." He answered, awkwardly.

Sombra mocked a laugh. "Same," Sombra replied. McCree laughed a short, awkward laugh, then turned away. At least they were trying. If things ever worked out, it would probably take a while.

Tracer sat down next to them a few minutes later. "Well, you guys seem to be hitting it off." She said sarcastically.

McCree scoffed. "We could be doing worse. You have."

"When?" Tracer challenged.

"Remember when you said that you thought Genji was a nudist?"

"He never wears any clothes! I still don't buy the whole 'my armor counts' thing." She pointed at McCree, "And besides, you've done worse. When she," She pointed at Sombra, "Got here, you said they had probably put a bomb in her stomach!"

"It's a legitimate strategy!" McCree yelled, and Sombra collapsed on the ground in a fit of laughter. Tracer and McCree laughed with her.

Suddenly, she heard a loud thump to the side and saw a large, armored man, Reinhardt, turn to face her.

"Who's this, a new member?!" Reinhardt nearly shouted.

"Yup!" Tracer chirped.

He bellowed out a hearty laugh. "Well, welcome aboard!" He yelled and clapped his hands on Sombra's shoulders. It hurt. A lot.

A resounding cheer of welcomes and hellos resounded throughout the room. One man spoke up. "You know what, guys?" Lucio said. "We haven't given her a proper initiation yet." Sly grins appeared on the faces of everyone in the room. Sombra slowly backed up.

"No, no, no," Sombra began before Reinhardt picked her up and slung her over his shoulder. "Put me down! Stop! Let go, you ass!" Sombra screamed and kicked while being towed to a nearby room. All the other membres chanted and laughed, clearly enjoying their hazing ceremony. Pretty soon, she was brought into a white room. She looked around and saw a mirror and a sink. She was in the bathroom. "Oh hell no, I'm not getting a swirly!"

She did.

A few minutes later, everyone was back in the kitchen, laughing and joking again. Sombra refused to enjoy it. Around eleven, Winston received a call. He left the room, then reentered a few minutes later. "Everyone, I have an announcement." Everyone stopped. "We have a new member."

"Uh, duh, we just got done with the initiation," DVa said with an eye roll.

"No, another one. She just arrived." Winston responded. Everyone stood up, and Winston stepped to the side. "Everyone, say hello to Symetra."

The tall, black woman readjusted her standing position. "Hello everyone, I would just like to say that as a part of Overwatch I wish to-"

She was interrupted by a glass plate smacking against her face. She nearly fell down. Mercy ran over to her side, offering words of worry. Blood trickled onto the floor.

"Lucio! What the hell!" DVa yelled out.

"What is this fascist bitch doing here!" Lucio yelled out. "Do you people have any idea what she's done!"

"I know she hasn't thrown a god damn plate at someone today!" DVa snapped back.

"Everyone calm down!" A strong voice rang through the room. It was Ana. "This is ridiculous and childish. Lucio, I expect better from you." Lucio only glared more and muttered something under his breath. Ana sighed.

"Okay, I think it's about time we broke this up." Soldier 76 said. "Everyone, to your stations. We'll have a meeting about this at four." Everyone went to their stations. Everyone except Sombra and Symetra.

"Um, hi?" Sombra attempted.

Chapter Text

"Hold still, this may hurt a little." Mercy was tending to the new woman in the medical wing. Sombra was fairly sure her name was Symmetra, but she wasn't sure. She was more occupied with the guy throwing a plate at her.

Sombra had come with her to the medical wing, mostly due to a lack of any other options. Mercy had said they would give her more daily duties in time. She said both of them, she and Symmetra, would be fully inducted at the meeting later.

At the moment, Mercy was cleaning the scrape on her forehead. She, Symmetra, was doing a pretty good job of sitting still, but she still fliched every once in a while from the pain of rubbing alchohol in an open wound. Sombra took the opportunity to study the woman. One of her arms seemed to be some type of prosthetiec, and their were various computers throughout her outfit. Sombra thought she recognized the technology. She racked her brains for what they could be. They seemed to be linked together wirelessly. What seemed to be a gun hung from her side, but even it looked strange. There was no place to put in ammunition, and it seemed far to fragile to fire and survive the kick back.

She sat down in a chair opposite Mercy. She rested her hands on her temple. What had that guy said? He called her a fascist, right? Yes, he did. Okay, so she must be from a orginization with very complex technology that could also be critisized for being to controlling, or maybe just generally shitty. She took another look at the woman. Who had those designs? Who had she worked for? ...

Vishkar. That was it. With a swipe of her hand, she pulled up a hologram and started working. It felt great to be doing this again. She noticed Symmetra turn and look at her, the sudden movement catching her eye. After a few minutes and a easily hacked firewall, and she had found confirmation. Satya, codename Symmetra. Vishkar's best hardlight architect. The file said she had repeatedly challenged the companies ethical standards.

Sombra rolled her head. She was more than familiar with the Vishkar corporation. They were backhanded and sneaky. For every town the built in a ruined country, they blew up another for political purposes. They were a power hungy giant masquerading as a decent coporation. She guessed Satya had been duped. Though, she really couldn't blame her. Even some of the highest chairmen of the company didn't have access to the documents Sombra did. From Satya's perspective, they may have actually seemed reasonable. Though Sombra could hardly believe that.

She turned to Symmetra. Mercy was finished, and they were about to leave. Sombra laughed to herself. She loved doing this.

"So, Satya, how did Vishkar treat you?" Sombra said in a mocking tone. Symmetra was stunned.

"How did you know-" Symettra started.

"Oh, I have my ways." Sombra responded with a smirk. Mercy sighed.

"Might as well introduce you two. Symmetra, this is Sombra, another new agent. She's a hacker, the real 'mastermind' type. She just hacked into Vishkar's servers and pulled up your files. Is that correct?" She asked Sombra. Mercy turned back to Symmetra after Sombra gave her a scowl. "Don't be surprised." Mercy said dryly. She turned to Sombra. "I'm guessing you already know Symmetra, Sombra. Please don't do something like that again. It's a lot more annoying than it is intimidating."

Sombra huffed. "You're taking all the fun out of it." Symmetra sat there in unshakable silence, observing. She seemed like the quiet type. The type that preffered isolation and stillness. No wonder she was with Vishkar, they were always yapping on about order and such.

Mercy laughed. "I see why you got caught. Keep on acting like this and you'll wind up dead."

Sombra smirked. "I think I've done pretty well for myself so far, thank you." Mercy walked over to the lab, preparing her next remark.

"What happened to your hair?" Symmetra blurted. Sombra turned to look at her. "Its wet." Symmetra clarified, as if she didn't know.

"Initiation ritual. Swirly. We do it to everyone." Mercy said. She turned back around. "Everyone."

"You can't be serious." Symmetra said, eyes wide with disbelief. Sombra chuckled.

"Run while you still can." Sombra joked, tone overtly serious. Symmetra finally let out a laugh. That made Sombra strangely satisfied with herself.

"You two should get a move on. I have responsibilities and such. Don't have time to deal with you two." Mercy said. Both women nodded and left.

They walked down the hall in awkward silence. They got all the way to the kitchen without a word. Then, suddenly, Symmetra couldn't shut up. She barraged Sombra with questions, ranging from where she was from to what perfume she used. She seemed strange, unaware. She did all she could to strike up a conversation, but got nothing back. Sombra didn't feel like talking anymore.

As the minutes ticked on, Symmetra got more and more restless. She turned to Sombra a few times, about to say something, but stopped herself before any words came out. Her eyes darted aroun the room, desperate to find anything to focus on. Unfortunately, the base's design was naturally minimalist. The kithcen had few interesting sites, as did the rest of the base. The only thing interesting about it, in fact, was who inhabited it.

Symmetra's fidgeting continued for some time, distracting Sombra from ignoring her. Sombra asked herself why she was so desperate to find something to say, something to do. The answer came to her next to immediately and was laughably simple. She was scared.

"Hey, Symmetra." Sombra said. The other woman looked at her, expression mostly blank, but also inquisitive. "You'll be fine. You're a good person. The files were acurate enough to show that." The other woman smiled, but it faded quickly.

"I don't know. I did bad things for Vishkar. I, I should have known better." Symmetra said in a downtrodden tone, then ducked her head. "It's my fault."

Sombra scoffed. "Come on, it couldn't have been that bad. I probably did worse." Symmetra turned to her.

"What did you do before you came here? I still don't know that much about you." Sombra crossed her arms across her chest.

She let out a long sigh. "Well I traveled a lot, I stayed on top of politics, didn't have much of a love life really. But not for lack of trying." She let out a short laugh. "And I may have just found a new lead." Symmetra cocked her head to the side.

"Oh!" She shouted, then fiddled with her hand nervously."I, I'm uh, on that team, I guess, well both really, I just, uh..." Sombra burst out laughing.

"Finally got a rise out of you. I knew I'd get it eventually." Sombra laughed. Symmetra chuckled nervously. Symmetra was finally seeming to calm down. "Oh yeah, and I also killed a buch of people."

Symmetra's eyes lit up. "You did?" Sombra nodded. "How many?" Sombra eyes lit up in turn. She was taken aback.

"I-I don't know." She responded.

Symmetra cocked an eyebrow. "Why not?" Sombra looked away, lost in thought.

"Well, I think I just lost count." She paused. "I kept track for the first few years. I counted to thirty three, that one was the in the middle east, some rich guy with a bunch of oil fields. I killed him, and after that, I just, stopped trying. That was when I was," She paused, trying to remember. "Eighteen. After that, every kill felt the same. It always hurts, but I just tell myself it will make the world better, that what I'm doing is important." Sombra said. Her voice steadily grew more shaky. She felt much to vulnerable again. God, why did she say all that. It had just started spilling out.

Symmetra sat in silence for a few minutes. She was obviously in deep thought. "I, I understand. I told myself that for years. I knew Vishkar was lying to me, but I ignored it." Symmetra stood up and created a holographic map with her prosthetic hand. "I remember one country, in Africa, it was trying to expand its economy. They made a commercial carrier, one of the largest in the world, to carry their shipments of iron." She paused. "It exploded. The country happened to be competing in exports with one of our suppliers. They said it was an accident, and I bought it. It was a flimsy lie, but I still bought it." She looked Sombra right in the eye. "I could have stopped it. I just went along with what they said. I just told myself it would work out in the end and that I was making a better world." She sighed. "I guess that didn't work out for either of us." She sat back down, and they sat in silence once more, but this time the atmosphere was much diferent. It was one of grief.

Sombra felt, strange, to say the least. Both women seemed to know that they were at odds with each other from the start, that they had different perspectives on the world. One on top, the other on bottom. They had this in common, though. They both had blood on their hands, they were both killers. In this one, crazy ass way, they were similiar.

Sombra sighed, then pulled up her holograms. Symmetra left with a polite farewell. They both knew they were done. Sombra spent the next several hours watching videos. She tried to ignore the pit in her stomach. Even though they were similiar, she couldn't shake the feeling that Symmetra was better than her.

------

Sombra drummed her fingers on the table in the meeting room. Symmetra sat next to her, even more shaken than she was. Only a few members had shown up for the meeting so far. Winston had been the first to enter, ever responsible. Symmetra's reaction had created a moment of levity, but it hadn't lasted long. Symmetra seemed quick to adjust to him. Her only reaction was initial shock. After that, she was more curious than anything. Sombra would have taken much longer to adjust if not for the extensive Talon reports and old files she had read over Winston.

Next had been the "Old Timers", Soldier 76, Ana, and Reinhardt. They had entered together, still in the midst of sharing old war stories. Sombra imagined that they didn't get to see each other often. Everyone in the room soon joined in on their conversation, all laughing and letting out oohs, and ahhs, but all that died down when Lucio entered.

He hadn't tried to be confrontational. He had only given Symmetra one look, and then seemed to try to ignore her. His stature may have even been said to be apopologetic, if it were not for the unmistakable look of accusational rage in his eyes. Sombra guessed even he was a buzz of nerves right now.

Soon nearly every agent was in the room, with the exception of Bastion and Tracer, who were nowhere to be found.

Sombra checked the time. 4:13. They were thirteen minutes late. Where the hell where they? Soldier let out an awkward cough. A second later, three more followed, each more violent than the last. Mercy asked him if he was ill. He said no, quickly and definately. That was the only noise in the room. Sombra let her eyes wander over the rest of the people. All looked almost as fidgety and nervous as she did. She caught them giving Lucio stares every now and then, more often than they did her or Symmetra. It must have been really out of place for him to act the way he did.

Suddenly, the door opened. The old omnic and british woman entered. "Sorry we're late, luv! Or, luvs I guess. Heh." Tracer tried as hard as she could to act casual. Of course, that was hard when every eye in the room was on you. She coughed into her sleeve. "Anyway, Bastion here was running low on juice. Only had a few hours left of charge. He came to me to try and help him find his charger. It took about half an hour of charades before we finally just realized he could type it out. Anyway, we found and it charged him up. He should be fine for about a month now." The explanation was good enough. A few people let out a grunt.

"Okay then," Symmetra stood up and said. Despite obviously being nervous, her voice still had some authority to it. Sombra thought she must have been fairly practiced. "Should I explain the circumstances leading to my inductment into Overwatch?"

"In English, please?" the girl in the pink suit said. Sombra recalled her name as DVa.

"Hana, English isn't even your first language." Pharah said.

"You know what I mean." DVa, or Hana it seemed, retorted. Symmetra cleared her throat.

"Do you want me to explain why I'm here?" She said aloud.

"Uh, yeah." Lucio responded. His voice was somehow filled with both humor and accusation. A few chuckles could be heard throughout the room. Symmetra blushed slightly.

"Okay. I-I um," Symmetra began, and then cleared her throat and said again, with much more confidence, "I worked for the Vishkar corporation. I have been becoming more and more suscpicious of them as time has advanced." Sombra knew what was coming. She had already heard this speech. She was just curious what the straw was that had broke the camel's back. "Their practices' have become steadily more ethically questionable. And, and I am somewhat to blame for that." Lucio shifted in his seat.

"Recently, Vishkar suddenly cancelled a natural disiater relief program I was working with. I had no idea why, I talked with them and pleaded, but they insisted on cancelling it. They said it was to expensive to maintain. I didn't understand why. The funding seemed fine when I looked at it. So, I did some investigating." Her hands began to curl into fists. "I found out why. An email I found showed a conversation between a Vishkar excecutive and one of the directors of public relations. The director said that the program was attracting a lot of attention because one of the projects was rebuilding an omnic village. He said it seemed like Vishkar was taking a political stance on the omnic issue. He said if the program was continued, it would damage several business deals with other corporations. He suggested cancelling the program entirely, claiming a lack of nescary funds and changing the financial reports. That way no one was angry. The omnics weren't being helped, and they couldn't blame Vishkar."

"When I came forward with the emails, the board,... wasn't happy with me. They said I had to get rid of the evidence or be fired. I-I still believed I could do good for the world, so I did what they said." She looked at Lucio. "And after a lot of thought, I changed my mind. I still believe I can do good for the world. But not as part of Vishkar."

Lucio looked down for a while, obviously in deep thought. No one dared interject. They all knew that this was between the two of them. "Why didn't you leave earlier?"

Symmetra face was momentarily painted with shock, but it quickly changed to ... guilt. "I think that I, I was in denial. I didn't want to think that they were like that. That Vishkar had done such awful that I," She paused, her voice choking up. "And that I had helped them."

Lucio brought his hands to his face, and then rested his head on his palm. His face wore a shade of grief. Sombra thought that he understood Symmetra, but simply wasn't ready to forgive her. She could understand that. But what had she done to him? The way he was acting, this was to personal to just be a simple grudge. Symmetra, or possibly Vishkar, had done something to him. Zenyatta spoke up next.

"I like to think of this place as a place of redemption. Symmetra is asking for that redemption, and it is our duty to give her that chance. We should-"

The very short man, Torbjorn, Sombra thought his name was, interrupted him. "Shut up, you bag of bolts!" He turned to the old timers. "He's right."

Soldier 76 grumbled. "I'm not sure. Just because she wants to be better doesn't mean she deserves the chance. Not everyone deserves to be forgiven."

"Really, Morrison?" Reinhardt said. "I thought you still had a heart in that chest! How could you still be so cruel?"

"Would you forgive Reyes?" Soldier 76, or Morrison, shot back.

"Oh, please." Ana said with a snort. "You think this woman is capable of the things Reyes was? You think she would run off and join Talon?"

Sombra decided, stupidly, to put herself in the middle of this. "And besides, I worked for Talon, and you gave me a chance!"

"You worked for Talon?" Lucio asked, startled.

Sombra turned to him. "That was a long time ago."

"That was two days ago." McCree responded. The girl, Hana, let out a quick chuckle. Then, McCree spoke up again. "Actually, that reminds me. What are we going to do about this whole mess?" He asked the room, and the sense of gravity the situation held returned to everyone. To most everyone, at least.

"What situation?" Symmetra asked, confused.

"World War 3." Morrison resopned.

"What!?" Symmetra yelled. "How did that happen?"

"Terrorist attack on a top secret US base holding a new super weapon they found from the Russians. The US blamed the Russians. Predictably." Morrison answered back. "They had been set up."

"What! Who would be stupid enough to do something like that." She snapped back.

Sombra waved her hand. "Heeeeeey." She said weakly. Symmetra gave her what have been the best you have got to be kidding me faces Sombra had ever seen.

"You?"

A loud snort blared from across the room. Lucio, of all people, slapped Symmetra in the back. "Welcome to Overwatch. It only gets worse. Speaking of which..."

"Time for Initiation!" Reinhardt yelled.

Sombra never would have gussed Symmetra could have ran that fast. Not fast enough, but pretty damn fast.

One swirly and way more obscenities than Sombra would have ever thought she would have heard out of Symmetra's mouth later, and everyone was back in the meeting room. Sadly, no amount of distactions could ever change what had happened. What Sombra had done. And so, Overwatch still had to agree on a course of action.

"Okay," McCree said, "What if we just told them what really happened?" Everyone stared at him. "I mean, we all know that it was really Talon," he paused, "And Sombra." She glared at him. "Why don't we just tell everyone that?"

Everyone paused, and thought. It seemed like an obvious solution. Why wouldn't it work? Sombra spotted Symmetra moving out of the corner of her eye. She seemed to have something to say. "What is it?" Sombra asked, purposefully putting her on the spot.

"Well, uh," Symmetra stammered, then regained her composure. "I don't think that they would believe us. If you told me is true, people have already died. When that happens, people want someone to blame. Someone tangible. If we, Overwatch, the banned group of mercenaries, say it was actually a shadow terrorist orginization called Talon, it would probably just sound like some crackpot conspiracy theory. We just aren't a credible scource of information. From the world's perspective, I mean."

"Hmm, sounds about right." Ana responded, dryly.

"So what do we do?" Tracer asked, finally speaking up.

"We should probably start with providing relief to damaged cities. A lot of people will be hurt." Mercy declared.

"That won't do much. It's only damage control. It doesn't solve the problem." Pharah responded, and Mercy gave her a look, one that perfectly communcicated just how many times the couple had had this argument before.

People started to squabble, not really contributing to the overall discussion. The whole meeting was being derailed. Somebody needed to get this back on track. So Sombra tried.

"I know this isn't the best plan," She announced, loudly, putting everyon'es attention on herself. "But we could side with someone. Work for them secretly. It wouild probably make the war pretty lopsided. The war would be over quickly."

"Sombra," Torbjorn suddenly said. "That is the worst idea I've heard in my entire life. And I'm old, mind you. I was around when they decided to ship the first war omnics after the one test."

"Oh god, that was bad." Morrison said. Ana was about to clarify, but Winston interrupted.

"Enough! This is serious! Does anyone have an actual plan?" Winston yelled. The room fell silent. Winston's composure dropped, and he sighed sorrowfully. "I thought not." With those words, it seemed even the faintest strains of hoped had finally died.

Sombra racked her brains for a way out of this. She wasn't one to give up so easily. She thought of everyithing they had all said, any way to stop the world from hurling into disaster. Anger boiled up inside of her. Damn Talon, bunch of assholes. This was all their fault. God, she wished she could kill all the higher ups.

Wait.

"Oh my god, I know what to do!" Sombra yelled out, startling everyone. McCree's eyes narrowed in on her.

"This had better be good, Sombra." He said.

"It is. All we have to do is prove that Talon exists!" Sombra yelled. Everyone stared at her.

"Um, didn't we just go over why we can't do that? People blaming someone tangible and all that?" Tracer said.

"Yes we did, but that's if we just say Talon. Okay, you guys obviously wouldn't know this, but Talon's has a 'Board of Directors' that decides what all the agents do." She chuckled to herself. "Or at least, they try. Anyway, they tried to keep all their information secret from the agents, but of course they failed." She smirked. "We know that all of them are world leaders, in some form or another. A few agents cracked that before being, taken care of, and that sliver is all that we held on to. If we get their identities, people will know the real culprit. They won't blame each other anymore, because their will be a real enemy. The assholes who pitted them against each other in the first place."

"Okay, so how do we prove who they are?" Morrison asked. Sombra's face dropped.

"Well, we'd have to get into a Talon base." She responded. "Which we can't, because they'll kill us all on sight."

"What about you?" Symmetra asked. "Didn't you work for them? Couldn't you infiltate them?"

"Well, yes, but I just backstabbed them! They won't let me back in now." Sombra responded.

"Right, because I'm sure you've never done anything like that before." McCree said, sarcastically. "This is definitely the first time you've ever been disobedient."

Sombra was quickly losing ground. "Well, yeah, but not like this. I've never done anything like this before. It was always small things." She quickly argued. McCree gave her a questioning look. "Smaller than this!" Sombra yelled out. Her limbs started trembling.

"Sombra." Ana's voice cut in. "Are you afraid of Talon? Are you afraid of what they may do to you?" Sombra froze. It was all she could do to not start crying. Ana walked over to her, and put a hand on her shoulder. "Have they hurt you before?" Sombra nodded. Ana paused, not sure if to continue. "What did they do?" Ana asked in a cautious tone of voice.

Sombra sat down, and wrapped her arms around herself. "I-I don't want to talk about it." Sombra responded. She could feel the others look at her with pity. It almost made it worse. No, it definatley did.

"Sombra, this is importnat. We need you to go back to Talon. For the sake of the world." Ana said. Sombra curled up further.

"That's really easy for you to say." Sombra said, coldy.

"Alright, let's break this up." Morrison stood up, and said in a raised voice. He chose his next words carefully. "This might be our best shot, but it's obviously going to take a bit of work to flesh out." He paused. "And some time, definately some time. Meeting adjourned."

Chapter Text

Sombra's shoes made a distinct, rhythmic clicking sound as they hit the tiled floor. The hall was dimly lit, so dark she would not have seen the man at the end of it if she had not known to look for him.

"Mission report." The shadowy figure barked as if he was programmed to.

"It went perfect, just as planned, Reaper," Sombra responded. It was not in the correct format.

"Always defiant," Reaper said in a low voice. Sombra smirked. She turned around and started to walk back down the hall to her room. "Oh, Sombra?" She stopped. "The board would like to see you."

Sombra groaned and turned back around. "Could have told me that sooner." She grumbled at Reaper as she passed him. Oddly, he said nothing in response.

Soon, she was in the board's room. "Please have a seat, agent." A voice boomed. This room was even darker than the hallway. Sombra sat down. "It has come to the board's attention that there may have been some, foul play, in the Russian mission you took part in."

Sombra almost yelped. "I have no idea what you mean, sir. It was just a failed mission." She responded, just like she practiced.

"You should have had no trouble completing it, with your skills." The voice in the shadows responded.

"Th-things go wrong in the field, sir," Sombra responded.

"Reaper and Widowmaker had no such problems."

"Their tasks were very different."

"Reaper reported that you went offline for a few minutes once you had located the subject."

"My headset malfunctioned." The panic in Sombra's voice was impossible to disguise.

"Our researchers found no evidence of a malfunction."

"Please, sir, this is ridiculous-" Sombra was interrupted by a loud snap. She tried to lift her arms, but they were now bound to the chair's armrest by a steel ring. Her ankles were bound to the leg of the chair in a similar fashion. The chair itself would not move. It must have been bottled to the floor. Suddenly, Sombra heard the door behind her open and shut.

"Sombra, we will only ask you once. Did you disobey orders on the mission?"

Sombra froze. Her greatest fears had been realized. She had no idea what to say but knew that not responding would only be worse. She cleared her throat. "Define disobey."

"Gaurd." Instantly, Sombra could feel the man behind her plunge something into her right thigh. She screamed. It was hot. Incredibly hot. Her leg felt like it was being set on fire. She screamed and shook, but she couldn't stop it. The pain slowly overwhelmed all of her senses. Tears streamed down her face. The only thing Sombra could feel was the steel rod burning the flesh of her leg. The guard started to push the rod deeper into her leg, and Sombra screamed even louder. She didn't think she could scream louder than before, but she did.

Eventually, the guard removed the spike. The voice boomed again. "We are very disappointed in you, Sombra."

Tears were still running down Sombra's face. She tried to speak, and could barely even manage a squeak through her sobs. Her throat stung, raw from screaming. "Please, sir, you don't understand." The rancid, putrid smell of her burnt flesh filled her nostrils.

The voice did not speak again. With a clack, the chair's back fell down and the legs swung up, leaving Sombra in a laying position. She finally got a chance to see her captor. "Please." She manages to squeak out. "Please help me." The guard looked her up and down, and chuckled. Suddenly, his hand fell onto her throat and squeezed. He started to choke the life out of Sombra, and she gasped for breath. As soon as her mouth opened, he plunged his hand into her throat and grabbed ahold of her tongue. His other hand let go of her throat and gripped the metal spike. Realization flooded through Sombra, and fear filled her eyes. She tried to plead, to kick and to scream, but she couldn't even do that now.

He plunged the spike the back of her tongue, not as deep as into her thigh, but somehow it was worse. This time, Sombra could hardly even scream. She was even more helpless than before. She considered biting her tongue off, just to end the pain. The guard stopped sooner this time. "That ought to shut you up. Now for the fun part." He put the spike away, and his hands went to the top of Sombra's shirt, and he started to undress her.

-------

Sombra woke up in tears. She tried as hard as she could to stop crying but she couldn't. She must have had a nightmare. That was it. But it felt so real, she could feel it. The burning of her thigh, the smell of her own body burning, the guard's hands on her neck. And what had happened after that,...

Sombra descended into a mess of tears. She had tried to bury those memories away, but they always came back. Why the hell did that Ana bitch have to keep needling her about it? She should have known what had happened. Her sobs got heavier, shaking her entire body. She remembered exactly how she had felt. So helpless, so weak, and the physical pain itself. It still petrified her, even to this very day.

We are very disappointed in you, Sombra.

Samara sat there and cried for what felt like hours. The modest living quarters seemed to have shapeshifted into a prison cell, confining her, trapping herself in with nothing but herself and the pain of her memories to hold onto. As far as she could tell, it was still night. Everyone was probably asleep. Even now, there was no one there to help her. Nothing had changed, she was still-

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. "Sombra? Are you okay?" Tracer. She cracked open the door.

Sombra was, luckily enough, facing the other way, so Tracer couldn't see her face. Sombra tried to compose herself, long enough just to tell her to go away. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. She started to speak, started to tell the other woman off, tell her that she was just paranoid and intrusive, but instead she collapsed. "N-no!" She yelled, then sobbed more loudly than ever, each sob shaking her entire body. A trail of mucus started to roll down her face.

In seconds, Tracer was by her side, hand on her shoulder. She wiped away the tears and snot and consoled Sombra. "What happened? Did you have a nightmare?" Sombra nodded. God, that sounded so stupid. "Where are you thinking about what happened to your brother?"

Sombra breath hitched. "No, but I am now!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, please don't cry!" Tracer said, pulling Sombra closer. "What..., what was it?"

Sombra sobbed. "It was what A-ana said. About what T-talon did." Sombra cried whilst trembling. Tracer's face contorted with worry.

"What, um, what exactly did they do?" She asked. Sombra wanted to smack her. How dare she ask about that? How could she even think about making her relive that again? Sombra pushed herself away from Tracer. Her anger started to subside once she saw Tracer's face. Maybe she just didn't understand how bad it was. Maybe she just wanted to understand. Maybe... maybe that would actually help.

Sombra couldn't even come close to bringing herself to talk about it, so she decided to show her. Sombra's tears slowed, and she shifted position to bring her legs in front of her. Sombra pulled her right thigh to her chest and started to take off her leggings. Tracer's eyes went wide, and she started to blush, but she stopped soon. Once she saw the scar.

It was a half-inch indent into her skin, about an inch in diameter. It was red and scabbed all over, green puss pulsing out from the center. The mere sight of it was enough to make Tracer gag. Tracer wasn't a medical expert, but she could spot a burn when she saw one. "Th-there are more, but they're in more," Sombra shuddered. "Se-sensitive spots."

Immediately, Tracer pulled her into an embrace. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She cried. She hugged Sombra even tighter. It took Sombra a second to realize that there were tears streaming down her face, too. "I promise, I'll never let them hurt you again." The promise was probably an empty one, but it felt genuine. Sombra buried her face into the crook of Tracer's neck and cried. She wrapped her own arms around Tracer and pulled on her as she much could. She still felt weak. She still felt helpless. But for some reason, right now, that was okay.

------

The two fell asleep in each other embrace. For at least a little while, it seemed the harsh outside world couldn't reach them. For a few hours at least, Sombra finally felt safe.

Sombra woke up with Tracer on top of her. The suggestive nature of the situation was not lost on her.

At first, Sombra didn't move. She still felt groggy and tired, so she stayed still and cuddled with Tracer under the blankets for warmth. The room had gotten steadily colder throughout the night, so even poking the smallest extremity out from under the covers was like dipping it into frigid ice water. More than anything, it was just comfortable.

However, she eventually felt like getting up, and she found herself in a predicament. Tracer was still fast asleep, and Sombra didn't really feel like waking her up. While thinking about that problem, Sombra started to study Tracer. The first thing she noticed was that she was not wearing her infamous chronal accelerator. Didn't she need that to, you know, exist? Sombra looked to the side and saw the contraption whirring in the corner, straps, and buckles undone. Maybe she just needed it around her? That seemed likely.

The next thing she noticed was exactly how little clothing Tracer was wearing. She only had on a tank top and a pair of basketball shorts. It was at that moment that the beforementioned suggestive situation became apparent. It hit Sombra with such momentum that it almost seemed to have actual force behind it.

Now, one important thing about Sombra's mind is that she rarely actually thought about sex. Sure, she was always on the lookout for a suggestive comment to make, the same way she was with any sort of snappy comeback, but she rarely actually thought about it. Once she did, however, she simply could not stop.

And so Sombra's mind took a straight nosedive into the gutter. Tracer is pretty hot, she thought to herself. Shit, this feels really awkward. I don't think she even has a bra on. Maybe I could check...

The world seemed to have a great sense of humor over the past few days, because the second that thought occurred to Sombra, Tracer shifted to the side, noticeably more awake than just a second ago. Shit, think of a line. Sombra thought to herself.

"Ugh, hey Sombra." Tracer said casually before yawning.

Sombra tried to hide her blush with an overconfident smirk. "Did you have fun coming down on me?"

Tracer's eyes snapped open. "What? We didn't, I thought, oh my god!" Tracer lept back, tumbling off of Sombra and taking the covers with her.

"Hey!" Sombra yelled, snatching the blanket, "It's freezing! Don't hog the blanket!"

Once Sombra had regained control of the covers, Tracer, in turn, freaked out. "Hey! I'm bloody freezing too, let me have some!" Sombra twisted her face into a suggestive smirk, and Tracer blushed. "Not like that! Uh, come on, I'm cold!" Sombra sighed.

After a few squabbles, the two found a compromise, pointedly avoiding to much physical contact. Each rested on their side, backs to each other. Sombra flipped herself over to look at Tracer. "You know we have to get up eventually, right?" Tracer only groaned.

They lay there for a few more minutes, and then Tracer attempted to converse. "Sombra, did we really..., do anything?" Tracer asked, flustered.

Sombra laughed. "Of course not. I just like to mess with people. You should know that by now." Sombra replied. Tracer breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to face Sombra.

Both women had a small, luminescent blush they would have profusely denied the existence of. Tracer caught Sombra's eye, and she reached out to touch her.

"I really am sorry about what happened to you. If I could have done anything to stop it, I would have."

Sombra's face fell. She closed her eyes. "I know."

They stayed there in what was one of the few comfortable minutes of silence Sombra had been a part of. Sombra let out a soft chuckle at that thought. So much of her life was surrounded by hostility and underlying threats. It was so nice just to be able to relax...

Her train of thought was interrupted by something she would never have expected. The feeling of Tracer's lips on hers. Tracer was kissing her. Tracer. Was. Kissing. Her.

Sombra reacted instinctively, pushing Tracer away from her, off her bed, onto the floor. "What in the hell are you doing?!" Sombra yelled, suddenly on her feet.

"I just thought..."Tracer began to stammer.

"Thought what? That you were going to swoop in right when I was hurt and be the hero? That, that just because I was hurt and you helped me that I like you? I barely even know you!" Sombra yelled. Tears started to stream from her face. So that must have been her game. All this time, Tracer wasn't being nice just because she was a good person, she just wanted to get into Sombra's pants. She was using her, just like everyone else. "I trusted you! I-I told you some of the worst shit that ever happened to me, and you used it against me!"

"No, Sombra, it's not like that, I just..." Tracer said, trying desperately to calm Sombra down.

"Shut up! Get the hell out of my room!"

"But I-"

"GET. OUT!"

Sombra grabbed the nearest object to her and hurled it at Tracer. Luckily for the latter, it was a pillow. Tracer backed up, tears forming in her eyes. She scrambled up, grabbed her chronal accelerator, and ran out of the room as quickly as possible. And Sombra felt more betrayed than ever.

Chapter Text

Sombra's shoes made a distinct, rhythmic clicking sound as they hit the tiled floor. The hall was dimly lit, so dark she would not have seen the man at the end of it if she had not known to look for him.

"Mission report." The shadowy figure barked as if he was programmed to.

"It went perfect, just as planned, Reaper." Sombra responded. It was not in the correct format.

"Always defiant," Reaper said in a low voice. Sombra smirked. She turned around and started to walk back down the hall to her room. "Oh, Sombra?" She stopped. "The board would like to see you."

Sombra groaned and turned back around. "Could have told me that sooner." She grumbled at Reaper as she passed him. Oddly, he said nothing in response.

Soon, she was in the board's room. "Please have a seat, agent." A voice boomed. This room was even darker than the hallway. Sombra sat down. "It has come to the board's attention that there may have been some, foul play, in the Russian mission you took part in."

Sombra almost yelped. "I have no idea what you mean, sir. It was just a failed mission." She responded, just like she practiced.

"You should have had no trouble completing it, with your skills." The voice in the shadows responded.

"Th-things go wrong in the field, sir," Sombra responded.

"Reaper and Widowmaker had no such problems."

"Their tasks were very different."

"Reaper reported that you went offline for a few minutes once you had located the subject."

"My headset malfunctioned." The panic in Sombra's voice was impossible to disguise.

"Our researchers found no evidence of a malfunction."

"Please, sir, this is ridiculous-" Sombra was interrupted by a loud snap. She tried to lift her arms, but they were now bound to the chair's armrest by a steel ring. Her ankles were bound to the chairs leg in a similar fashion. The chair itself would not move. It must have been bottled to the floor. Suddenly, Sombra heard the door behind her open and shut.

"Sombra, we will only ask you once. Did you disobey orders on the mission?"

Sombra froze. Her greatest fears had been realized. She had no idea what to say but knew that not responding would only be worse. She cleared her throat. "Define disobey."

"Gaurd." Instantly, Sombra could feel the man behind her plunge something into her right thigh. She screamed. It was hot. Incredibly hot. Her leg felt like it was being set on fire. She screamed and shook, but she couldn't stop it. The pain slowly overwhelmed all of her senses. Tears streamed down her face. The only thing Sombra could feel was the steel rod burning the flesh of her leg. The guard started to push the rod deeper into her leg, and Sombra screamed even louder. She didn't think she could scream louder than before, but she did.

Eventually, the guard removed the spike. The voice boomed again. "We are very disappointed in you, Sombra."

Tears were still running down Sombra's face. She tried to speak, and could barely even manage a squeak through her sobs. Her throat stung, raw from screaming. "Please, sir, you don't understand." The rancid, putrid smell of her burnt flesh filled her nostrils.

The voice did not speak again. With a clack, the chair's back fell downward and the legs swung up, leaving Sombra in a laying position. She finally got a chance to see her captor. "Please." She manage to squeak out. "Please help me." The guard looked her up and down, and chuckled. Suddenly, his hand fell onto her throat, and squeezed. He started to choke the life out of Sombra, and she gasped for breath. As soon as her mouth opened, he plunged his hand into her throat, and grabbed ahold of her tongue. His other hand let go of her throat, and gripped the metal spike. Realization flooded through Sombra, and fear filled her eyes. She tried to plead, to kick and to scream, but she couldn't even do that now.

He plunged the spike the back of her tongue, not as deep as into her thigh, but somehow it was worse. This time, Sombra could hardly even scream. She was even more helpless than before. She considered biting her tongue off, just to end the pain. The guard stopped sooner this time. "That ought to shut you up. Now for the fun part." He put the spike away, and his hands went to the top of Sombra's shirt, and he started to undress her.

Sombra woke up in tears. She tried as hard as she could to stop crying but she couldn't. She must have had a nightmare. That was it. But it felt so real, she could feel it. The burning of her thigh, the smell of her own body burning, the guard's hands on her neck. And what had happened after that,...

Sombra descended into a mess of tears. She had tried to bury those memories away, but they always came back. Why the hell did that Ana bitch have to keep needling her about it? She should have known what had happened. Her sobs got heavier, shaking her entire body. She remembered exactly how she had felt. So helpless, so weak, and the physical pain itself. It still petrified her, even to this very day.

We are very disappointed in you, Sombra.

-------

Sombra sat there and cried for what felt like hours. The modest living quartes seemed to have shapeshifted into a prison cell, confining her, trapping herself in with nothing but herself and the pain of her memories to hold onto. As far as she could tell, it was still night. Everyone was probably asleep. Even now, there was no one there to help her. Nothing had changed, she was still-

Suddenly, someone knocked on the door. "Sombra? Are you okay?" Tracer. She cracked open the door.

Sombra was, luckily enough, facing the other way, so Tracer couldn't see her face. Sombra tried to compose herself, long enough just to tell her to go away. She didn't want anyone to see her like this. She started to speak, started to tell the other woman off, tell her that she was just paranoid and intrusive, but instead she collapsed. "N-no!" She yelled, then sobbed more loudly than ever, each sob shaking her entire body. A trail of mucus started to roll down her face.

In seconds, Tracer was by her side, hand on her shoulder. She wiped away the tears and snot, and consoled Sombra. "What happened? Did you have a nightmare?" Sombra nodded. God, that sounded so stupid. "Where you thinking about what happened to your brother?"

Sombra breath hitched. "No, but I am now!"

"Oh, I'm so sorry, please don't cry!" Tracer said, pulling Sombra closer. "What..., what was it?"

Sombra sobbed. "It was what A-ana said. About what T-talon did." Sombra cried whilst trembling. Tracer's face contorted with worry.

"What, um, what exactly did they do?" She asked. Sombra wanted to smack her. How dare she ask about that? How could she even think about making her relive that again? Sombra pushed herself away from Tracer. Her anger started to subside once she saw Tracer's face. Maybe she just didn't understand how bad it was. Maybe she just wanted to understand. Maybe... maybe that would actually help.

Sombra couldn't even come close to bringing herself to talk about it, so she decided to show her. Sombra's tears slowed, and she shifted position to bring her legs in front of her. Sombra pulled her right thigh to her chest, and started to take off her leggings. Tracer's eyes went wide, and she started to blush, but she stopped soon. Once she saw the scar.

It was a half-inch indent into her skin, about an inch in diameter. It was red and scabbed all over, green puss pulsing out from the center. The mere sight of it was enough to make Tracer gag. Tracer wasn't a medical expert, but she could spot a burn when she saw one. "Th-there are more, but they're in more," Sombra shuddered. "Se-sensitive spots."

Immediately, Tracer pulled her into an embrace. "Oh, I'm so sorry!" She cried. She hugged Sombra even tighter. It took Sombra a second to realize that there were tears streaming down her face, too. "I promise, I'll never let them hurt you again." The promise was probably an empty one, but it felt genuine. Sombra buried her face into the crook of Tracer's neck and cried. She wrapped her own arms around Tracer and pulled on her as she much could. She still felt weak. She still felt helpless. But for some reason, right now, that was okay.

The two fell asleep in each other embrace. For at least a little while, it seemed the harsh outside world couldn't reach them. For a few hours at least, Sombra finally felt safe.

Sombra woke up with Tracer on top of her. The suggestive nature of the situation was not lost on her.

At first, Sombra didn't move. She still felt groggy and tired, so she stayed still and cuddled with Tracer under the blankets for warmth. The room had gotten steadily colder throughout the night, so even poking the smallest extremity out from under the covers was like dipping it into frigid ice water. More than anything, it was just comfortable.

However, she eventually felt like getting up, and she found herself in a predicament. Tracer was still fast asleep, and Sombra didn't really feel like waking her up. While thinking about that problem, Sombra started to study Tracer. The first thing she noticed was that she was not wearing her infamous chronal accelerator. Didn't she need that to, you know, exist? Sombra looked to the side, and saw the contraption whirring in the corner, straps and buckles undone. Maybe she just needed it around her? That seemed likely.

The next thing she noticed was exactly how little clothing Tracer was wearing. She only had on a tank top and a pair of basketball shorts. It was at that moment that the beforementioned suggestive situation became apparent. It hit Sombra with such momentum that it almost seemed to have actual force behind it.

Now, one important thing about Sombra's mind is that she rarely actually thought about sex. Sure, she was always on the lookout for a suggestive comment to make, the same way she was with any sort of snappy comeback, but she rarely actually thought about it. Once she did, however, she simply could not stop.

And so Sombra's mind took a straight nosedive into the gutter. Tracer is pretty hot, she thought to herself. Shit, this feels really awkward. I don't think she even has a bra on. Maybe I could check...

The world seemed to have a great sense of humor over the past few days, because the second that thought occurred to Sombra, Tracer shifted to the side, noticeably more awake than just a second ago. Shit, think of a line. Sombra thought to herself.

"Ugh, hey Sombra." Tracer said casually before yawning.

Sombra tried to hide her blush with an overconfident smirk. "Did you have fun coming down on me?"

Tracer's eyes snapped open. "What? We didn't, I thought, oh my god!" Tracer lept back, tumbling off of Sombra and taking the covers with her.

"Hey!" Sombra yelled, snatching the blanket, "It's freezing! Don't hog the blanket!"

Once Sombra had regained control of the covers, Tracer, in turn, freaked out. "Hey! I'm bloody freezing too, let me have some!" Sombra twisted her face into a suggestive smirk, and Tracer blushed. "Not like that! Uh, come on, I'm cold!" Sombra sighed.

After a few squabbles, the two found a compromise, pointedly avoiding to much physical contact. Each rested on their side, backs to each other. Sombra flipped herself over to look at Tracer. "You know we have to get up eventually, right?" Tracer only groaned.

They lay there for a few more minutes, and then Tracer attempted to converse. "Sombra, did we really..., do anything?" Tracer asked, flustered.

Sombra laughed. "Of course not. I just like to mess with people. You should know that by now." Sombra replied. Tracer breathed a sigh of relief. She turned to face Sombra.

Both women had a small, luminescent blush they would have profusely denied the existence of. Tracer caught Sombra's eye, and she reached out to touch her.

"I really am sorry about what happened to you. If I could have done anything to stop it, I would have."

Sombra's face fell. She closed her eyes. "I know."

They stayed there in what was one of the few comfortable minutes of silence Sombra had been a part of. Sombra let out a soft chuckle at that thought. So much of her life was surrounded by hostility and underlying threats. It was so nice just to be able to relax...

Her train of thought was interrupted by something she would never have expected. The feeling of Tracer's lips on hers. Tracer was kissing her. Tracer. Was. Kissing. Her.

Sombra reacted instinctively, pushing Tracer away from her, off her bed, onto the floor. "What in the hell are you doing?!" Sombra yelled, suddenly on her feet.

"I just thought..."Tracer began to stammer.

"Thought what? That you were going to swoop in right when I was hurt and be the hero? That, that just because I was hurt and you helped me that I like you? I barely even know you!" Sombra yelled. Tears started to stream from her face. So that must have been her game. All this time, Tracer wasn't being nice just because she was a good person, she just wanted to get into Sombra's pants. She was using her, just like everyone else. "I trusted you! I-I told you some of the worst shit that ever happened to me,and you used it against me!"

"No, Sombra, it's not like that, I just..." tracer said, trying desperately to calm Sombra down.

"Shut up! Get the hell out of my room!"

"But I-"

"GET. OUT!"

Sombra grabbed the nearest object to her and hurled it at Tracer. Luckily for the latter, it was a pillow. Tracer backed up, tears forming in her eyes. She scrambled up, grabbed her chronal accelerator, and ran out of the room as quickly as possible. And Sombra felt more betrayed than ever.

Chapter Text

The closer you get to your target, the less they suspect you, the more damage it causes when you strike.

Sombra had memorized those words. They were one of the first things she was told while working for Talon. Reaper had taught her how to fight, how to be an effective agent. A killer. That was her first lesson from him.

She should have known better. From the moment Tracer had walked into her life, all she had done was try and do things for Sombra. Cook food for Sombra, buy lunch for Sombra, console Sombra.

Maybe she's just a nice person. That's what Sombra told herself. What a load of bullshit. There wasn't such a thing as a nice person in this world.

"Overwatch," Sombra said aloud, slowly, studying every sound her mouth made. Each and every syllable felt like grueling slime, a shallow facade.

I should have known better.

Sombra stood up. She walked to the closet, each step reverberating through the room like the hollow shell it was. Her outfit was in there now. Apparently, Overwatch "trusted" her enough to let her have it back. She looked throughout the room. No cameras. No bugs. She was safe.

Sombra smirked and slid out of her current outfit and into her own clothes. She had work to do.

-------

"Winston! Please, I need to talk!"

Tracer banged on the lab door again. It had been nearly five whole minutes, and he hadn't answered her. She was beginning to think that he wasn't here.

She slumped over herself, panting heavily. She could feel the rapid beating of her heart echoing through what seemed to be an empty chest cavity. Her throat was hoarse, mucus had begun to collect on the inside walls. She must have run faster than she had thought. Why were the labs so far from the rest of the facility?

Suddenly, a loud sigh interrupted Tracer's ever unfocused train of thought. "Coming."

The second the door opened, Tracer lept onto him. If it were nearly anyone else, she probably would have tackled them.

"Winston, I've made a terrible mistake!" Tracer yelled frantically.

Winston released a small 'harumph'. "Yes, I would say waking me at this hour is a terrible mistake." Tracer curled her hands into fists.

"Please Winston, this isn't the time!" Tracer snapped back. Her voice was rancid with anger, guilt, and desperation. The second Winston heard Tracer's cry, he knew that this was serious.

After an initial pause, he turned to the door and fidgeted with a few buttons. The door closed, and he spun back around to face Tracer. "What happened?" His voice carried all the care and reassurance in the world.

"I, I uh," Tracer stopped, face heating up. She only now realized how embarrassing this whole situation was. "I kissed Sombra."

Winston's eyes widened. "You did? I didn't think she would be open to that much intimacy yet."

Tracer shuffled her feet nervously. "Well, that's just the thing. She wasn't."

Winston sat down. "I see." He turned his head aside for a brief moment, eyeing a small side experiment. "How did she react?"

"She kicked me out of her room."

Winston sighed. "Yes, that sounds like her."

"I didn't mean to hurt her, I just thought we had a connection!"

Winston cocked his head to the side. "After two days?" He questioned.

"Well, I um," Tracer stammered, "I like her." She said weakly.

"Did you happen to stop and think about what Sombra thought?" Tracer shrunk back. "Tracer, she obviously has trust issues. She's nowhere near prepared for a relationship right now! What in the world were you thinking?"

Tracer fidgeted with her fingers, head hung low. "Well, there's sort of a, uh, secret." Tracer squeaked.

Winson raised his eyebrow. "What kind of secret?"

--------

Lena pulled herself to her feet, eyes shut, hands over her ears, trying all she could to ignore the carnage around her. Men screamed as chunks of their own flesh fell from their bones. Artillery rained down from above, blowing people into small, bloody pieces. World War Two. Why did she have to be here?

A large rumbling sound erupted from over her head. A bombing run. The slipstream was HELL. She shut her eyes as tight as she could, clamped her hands as tight as her muscles would allow, but it wouldn't stop anything. It didn't stop the men's pained screams. It didn't stop the bombs from falling, it couldn't stop all these men's deaths. And it didn't stop Lena from thinking.

Form thinking about their pain. About their families. About her family.

The family she would never see again.

Suddenly, the war froze in place. Lena opened her eyes. As she expected, blue fumes started to erupt from the ground. Each one cracked the ground around where they formed, and the world poured into the holes they left. Cracks spiderwebbed from the clouds, and the sky fell like shards of glass. Reality was tearing itself apart, sending her through the malfunctioning split-stream into a new timeline.

With a stomach-lurching shift, she phased into a new world. She surveyed her surroundings cautiously, and she nearly cried once she realized where she was.

She was in her apartment. Lena was home.

This wasn't going to last, she knew that, but she was home.

Tears of joy started to stream from her face. She wrapped her arms around herself and fell to her knees, content to let the familiar surroundings console her.

That was, of course, until Tracer arrived.

The door opened suddenly, and a Lena stepped through the doorway. The Lena from this timeline.

Lena's heart beat in her chest. She was here. In the future. She made it out of the slipstream. She was going to be okay.

Lena walked up to the other version of herself, who was now fumbling with her keys. She was definitely older, at twenty years older than Lena was now. She wore her age well. Some blue, glowy, thing, hummed on her chest. She turned around and yelled out.

"Sombra! I'm home! I got Chinese takeout!"

Sombra? Lena thought to herself. Who's that?

She didn't have to wait long to get her answer. A few seconds later, a Latino woman rounded the corner, rubbing her eyes with her fist. Her outfit was, strange to say the least. Purple wires coiled all around her, hugging the curves of her body.

"You're finally back." The woman, presumably Sombra, called out. The older version of Lena set the food on the counter, and caught the other woman in her arms, and planted a small kiss on her lips.

"Couldn't keep you waiting forever," Lena answered back.

Sombra smiled. "Did you get my chicken?" Lena nodded. "Oh, what would I do without you?" She hugged Lena. She planted another small kiss on her forehead.

A small light flashed and beeped on the counter. "AGENT SOMBRA. AGENT TRACER. REPORT TO WATCHPOINT: GIBRALTAR IMMEDIATELY."

The couple broke their embrace and headed toward the door.

"Can't they do anything without us?" Sombra said mockingly.

Tracer laughed and responded cheerily, but Lena wasn't listening. She didn't move then, she didn't move when the blue smoke rose from the ground or the ceiling shattered to pieces. All she could think of was Sombra.

From that day onward, no matter how bad her time in the slipstream was, Lena just reminded herself of that woman. Sombra, to her, meant safety. She represented getting her life back, that after all the hell she went through, it would be okay. That Winston would find a way to save her, and that she wouldn't be trapped forever.

Lena knew that when she found Sombra, she would do everything in her power to help her. To make her life better. If it weren't for her, she would never have had the strength to survive the slipstream sane.

And after all, she couldn't keep her waiting forever, could she?

-------

Winston shuffled uneasily after Tracer finished her story. After a long breath, he turned back to her and spoke in a low voice.

"Have you told anyone else about this?"

Tracer shook her head.

Winston sighed.

"Tracer," Winston began, "I know Sombra means a lot to you, but," He paused, "you have to keep her perspective in mind. She's been hurt, she doesn't know who to trust. Just because you know she'll eventually love you doesn't mean she does now."

Tracer nodded. "I understand."

Winston cleared his throat. "So, how do you plan to tell her?"

"WHAT!?" Tracer yelled, jumping out of her chair.

"Well, obviously she needs to know about this. I could tell her if you want me to."

"No, no, no!" Tracer exclaimed. "It'll sound creepy and weird coming from you!"

"Maybe there's a reason for that, Tracer." Winston chuckled.

Tracer's face contorted into a frown. "That's not funny."

Winston sighed. "I suppose you're right." he put his hand on Tracer's shoulder. "You have to do this, Tracer. I know you can. I promise, she won't hate you."

Tracer breathed heavily. She tried to steel her nerves, to cool the boiling pit of guilt resting in her stomach.

After a brief moment, she raised her head. "Okay, I'm ready." Winston smiled.

And with that, Tracer was off. She raced down the hall, into the kitchen. Fortunately for her, or unfortunately, Pharah and Mercy happened to be inside the kitchen, and their tongues were in each other's mouths.

"Oh!" Tracer exclaimed, and Mercy turned away from Pharah.

"Tr-Tracer! What do you want?" She said frantically.

"I, I'm looking for Sombra." Tracer answered, ignoring the awkward situation as best she could.

Pharah, who at this point was no longer in Mercy's embrace, answered. "She hasn't been in here. She's probably still asleep."

Tracer sighed. "I wish." She started off, ignoring Mercy's prying questions. She continued down the halls, Mercy and Pharah now, unfortunately, tagging along. Once she arrived, she knocked cautiously.

"Sombra? It's me, Tracer. Are you there?" No response. "Sombra, come on!" Tracer knocked on the door again. "I know you're mad at me, but we need to talk about this."

A small voice echoed through the door. "Go away." It was Sombra.

"Please Sombra?"

"Go away."

"Please?"

"Go away."

"Ple-"

"This is ridiculous!" Pharah exclaimed. "I'm breaking down the door!"

"Wait, honey stop!" Mercy exclaimed, but it was too late. Pharah had already rammed against the door, causing a loud crack to erupt through the hallway.

"Go away."

"PHARAH! WHAT THE HELL! NO, WAIT, STOP!" Tracer yelled.

The Egyptian crashed into the door again, this time breaking it completely. She fell onto the floor, cradling her shoulder.

"Why did you-" Tracer stopped midsentence, frozen once she took in the sight of Sombra's room. The blankets lay on the floor, closet flung wide open. Snow clumped up on the edge of the window seal, pouring in through the broken window. A small tape recorder lay on the desk, with a note laying on it reading; Screw you guys. I'm outta here.

Sombra was gone.

"Go away." A fake voice echoed through the room.

Chapter Text

Snow sprinkled down, each like a small speck of heaven. Each melted like a angel kiss against Sombra's skin. The entire mountain was covered in snow, each speck glistening like a distant star as the morning sunrise struck them. The wind blew the the softest snow across the ground like a thin veil of fog, swirling up and down the sides of the jagged rocks and smooth ice in a way that could only be described as majestic. It was the scene that made you feel an umistakable sense of serenity and stillness, letting the pure, unsolicited beauty of nature consume you.

This is, of couse, what you of I would have seen. Sombra, however, saw a thick layer of frozen white bullshit halting her advance down the mountain, and felt nothing but pure, unsolicited hatred for the cold and everything it stood for.

Her attire wasn't exactly suited for the weather, to say the least. Her cloak provided little to no insulation, and the wires and circuitry hidden beneath the folds of her clothing absorbed the cold like a drunk absorbs cheap beer.

Sombra lifted the collar of her shirt, trying to stop her teeth from chattering. She briefly considered returning to the Watchpoint, but quickly decided against it. She had left for a reason.

She briefly turned around, looking back up to the cliff's summit, or more accurately, the building resting on them. About half the windows were illuminated with faint light, barely visible through the beforementioned snow. She let her mind wander, thinking about what the members of Overwatch were doing now. If they had discovered her absence yet. How Tracer had reacted.

Tracer.

The mere thought of the woman's name sent a concentrated dose of mixed emotions straight into the pit of Sombra's stomach. Flashes of anger battled with memories of kindness. An underlying sense of trust did its best to uproot the suspicion and paranoia, all caused by single moment of betrayal. All these emotions, these pathetic feelings, swirled and mixed and made Sombra want to curl up and cry.

But a particularly strong burst of wind reminded Sombra that she couldn't. Sombra scowled, and trudged again through the snow, now with only one thought on her mind.

I hate snow.

"Can I say I told you so now?" McCree's gruff voice called out, carrying a notable smug attitude.

"Shut up, cowboy." One of a million voices said. The entire Overwatch team had been called once Sombra was found missing, and Tracer had done evertyhing in her power to stop it.

She wasn't particularly proud of that fact. Actually, this may have gone down as one of her worst decisions ever, period. Of course, once she realised that, it only made her more desperate to dodge the inevitable onslaught of judgment.

When Mercy and Pharah had ran out of Sombra's room, calling the rest of Overwatch to a meeting, she had tried fruitlessly to assure them that it was all right. When Mei asked what was going on, she had said anything she could to divert her interest. When Morrison and Ana called a meeting, she pleaded with them to reconsider. When they had all assembled in the conference room, all that she had left to do was avoid Winston's knowing glances.

Each and every pitiful attempt to avoid the consequences of her actions only enhanced the guilt she felt for them. Tracer could almost see a portrait of her own misery, hung by the nail of her own mistakes, hammered in with every innocent question of why?

All the while, the room grew ever more chaotic. Morrison tried and failed to call the room to order with a loud call and bang of his gun agains the table. The room only grew louder. Suddenly, a loud crack bounced off of the walls and into everyon's ears. The table was split into chunks, all spiraling out from a large, steel hammer. The room fell silent.

Reinhardt cleared his throat. "Think I overdid it?" A few, soft chuckles popped up here and there.

Morrison gave off a soft grumble, and stood up. "Now that I can hear myself think, I'd like to ask if anyone had an idea as to why Sombra got her ass out of here."

Tracer didn't have to turn to know Winston's eyes were on hers.

She could feel her stomach doing somersaults, nagging her and overflowing with shame. She knew she had to tell them, she just...

"Anyone?"

Silence.

Tracer began to tremble.

Morrison looked back, then forth, and sighed. McCree decided to speak up. "We shouldn't be here. We need to be out there, lookin' for her!"

As would be expected, an arguement sprang up. "We need to know if she's hostile or not, McCree." Pharah stated.

McCree snickered. "When has she not been hostile?"

"You know that's not-"

"I know what happened to Sombra."

The only word that could describe the room was dropped. Silence fell over the room, and a ten pound weight colided with the bottom of Tracer's stomach. She didn't need to look up to know everyone was looking at her. She shakily rose to her feet. The only thing that kept her from collapsing was the reassuring nod from Winston.

Tracer let out a heavy breath, and lifted her head to speak.

"Last night, I was having trouble sleeping, so I went to get a snack. When I walked by Sombra's room, she was," she paused, remembering the events of last night so clearly, like it was happening in front of her as she spoke. "She was crying." Tracer turned her head to Ana. "You were right. She's been through even more than we thought." Ana's head dipped, face painted with a somber, knowing expression. "She had had a nightmare." Tracer continued. "I opened the door to talk to her, and she was crying, and, and she was just so, hurt." Tracer could feel presure builing up in her chest, her eyes starting to water. She tried to speak again, but her breath got caught on something on its way up her throat.

"Its okay, Tracer." Winston put his hand on her shoulder, wearing a warm smile and a kind gaze.

McCree, of course, couldn't keep his mouth shut. 'I'm sorry, but this just aint adding up. If you went in there to hlp her out, why she ended up flipping her shit?" Tracer's face flushed. She turned her head, trying to divert the shame from her, somehow.

People rustled uneasily throughout the room. They kbew something big was coming.

"After she calmed down, she and I went to sleep in her room." That got her a raised eyebrow or two. "Well, when we woke up, she was feeling better, and we were really close together, and," she paused, one more time, trying to delay the truth for just one second longer. "I kissed her."

Silence filled the room, and the tense atmosphere tried to suffocate Tracer.

Until the tension was cut into pieces by a loud, hearty laugh.

"Goddammit, Torbjorn! This isn't funny!" Mercy yelled.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" The man said, waving his hands and trying to contain his laughter. "It's just, this is so stupid!"

Tracer's face flushed, shame filling her form. Ana shook her head, then spoke.

"Well, overall I'd say this isn't to bad."

Tracer wipped her head around. "What?! What do you mean not to bad?! This is horrible! I'm horrible!" Tracer screamed, her eyes finally letting a tear fall.

After a short moment of shock, the room immediately moved to reassure Tracer.

A pair of warm, coated arms wrapped around Tracer. It was Mei.

"It's okay, Tracer." Mei smiled. "I'm sure she'll forgive you." The others followed, each with their own motion of sympathy and their own words of reassurance. Even Torbjorn's and McCree's more mocking dispositions helped.

Tracer smiled, and let just a few more tears fall.

I don't deserve this.

Tracer's self loathing was interrupted, however, by Ana's peircing voice.

"What I was trying to say before Tracer had a breakdown," Ana shot a smirk over to Tracer, "Was that this situation can be salvaged. From what I can tell, Tracer just overstepped her boundries, boundries that happened to be very important to Sombra. She overreacted. Once we explain the situation to Sombra, things should clear up." Ana tilted her head to the side. "Well, maybe."

"Let's move out." Morrison's voice yelled through the room. "Everybody, start searching. Sombra couldn't have gotten far."

Everybody ran out of the room, organizing into teams and deciding which side of the mountain to scale. Tracer started to trudge out of the room, but a cold hand stopped her.

"Tracer." Symmetra said. "I have an idea."

-----------

Tracer knew about hard light. A little, at least.

It's hard to imagine that the abitlity to give the finger to the laws of physics could be more impressive than it sounded, but it was. Symmetra's graceful movements didn't so much as force the light into matter as much as guided them into a desired form. The form being desired at the present was cameras.

Video cameras with helicopter blades, to be precise.

"So all the footage will be picked up on this monitor?" Tracer asked. Symmetra nodded. With a sweep of her arm, she finished her work on her latest batch of cameras. The three new machines whirred to life, then flew into the air and down the mountainside. Their camera feeds were added to the large, holographic screen being projected. As of now, Tracer counted thirty three cameras, and counting.

"With any luck, we'll find Sombra soon enough." Symmetra said, finally opening her eyes. She has said shutting them helped her focus. She plopped down next to Tracer and watched over the camera feeds.

"Symmetra?" Tracer asked. The other woman turned to her. "Why did you only show me this? You probably could have told Ana and Winston and all them and this would've worked a lot faster."

Symmetra smiled. "Because, I want you to talk to Sombra before anyone else."

Tracer gasped, probably a little more dramatically than she should have. "Wha-why?!"

That made Symmetra think. She looked straightforward, and stood up, obviously trying to think. "Well, it just seems, right." At her utter failure to convey her point, she sighed, and tried again. She closed her eyes and furrowed her brow. "Well, it's something you did to her. And when you make a mistake and someone's mad at you, you make up for it." She cocluded her speech with a questioning gaze, trying to validate if her speal had made sense.

Tracer lowered her head. "I suppose you're right." Symmetra sat down, and suddenly a thought sprung to Tracer's mind. "Is that what you're doing with Lucio?"

Symmetra took in a deep breath and let out a huge wigh. "I, I tried. It's just, he's so stubborn. He hates Vishkar. I mean, he hates them. I guess he has a good reason." She let out a sigh. "No, he does." She paused, and turned to Tracer. "Honestly, I don't think the real problem is just that I worked with Vishkar. It's that I thought that they might help. Vishkar believed in order. They, I, thought that people needed that order. He, disagrees." She sighed. "I think he just needs time."

Tracer deflated. "Do you think Sombra just needs time?"

Symmetra paused, then lifted her head to answer, but a distinct flash of purple on the screen stopped her.

"She's on the south-east mountainside!" Symmetra yelled, and Tracer and her took off.

As they left, however, Symmetra's cameras discovered something far more insidious.

---------

Sombra pulled the edges of her shirt up over her neck. Why the hell was it so damn cold? Sombra's complaining was fortunately interrupted by a whirring white drone that nearly blended into the scenery behind it. With a start, she dived behind the nearest rock.

Once she noticed the distinct lack of gunfire, she carefully rounded the edge of the boulder. Her eyes quickly found the drone. It was a round, white sphere with blue, helicopter like blades and a black hole in the center which Sombra quickly identified it as a camera.

Sombra let out a soft sigh. After taking a second to regain her composure, she tried to figure out exactly what this meant. Fortunately, they were trying to be peaceful, probably just sent out a search party. Unfortunately, they had definately saw where she was. She cursed to herself, and jumped over a nearby ledge into the snow below.

Just try and find me.

She put up her cloak and ran down the mountainside, careful to watch how much longer it could stay up. Seconds before it ran out, she buried herself into the snow. She checked her cloak. It would take three minutes for it to recharge.

Well, shit.

Sombra considered her options, and decided to wait it out. It was still the best course of action. Of course, it did mean that she would have to sit there in the snow, teeth clacking like a cheap pair of scissors for three god damn minutes. She'd have to remember to upgrade the recharge systems. She couldn't let a low temperature enviorment stop her from slinking away anymore. Maybe she could add a larger battery...

Lost in thought, she was to distracted to notice the drone above her head. And by the time she bothered to check her cloaking systems, she did notice the plane nearby.

Sombra's heart skipped a beat. Shit. SHIT! Sombra cloaked, and looked around. Unfortunately, there was no nearby natural cover for her to hide behind.

"Sombra! SOMBRA!" A shrill voice cried. Tracer. Sombra furrowed her brow, wanting nothing more than to throttle that damn woman. She caught a look at her face, and saw... guilt?

"Sombra, I understand if you're mad at me! If you're here... please give me a chance!"

Sombra was stunned. She hadn't expected Tracer to be so... apologetic, she guessed. As she waited, still to stunned to react, she noticed another woman step out from behind Tracer.

"Tracer, I don't think she's here."

Tracer frowned. "She has to be!"

Symmetra sighed. "I'm going to sat here for another sixty seconds, then we're leaving."

"But-" Tracer pleaded, but the other woman obviously wasn't going to budge.

Sombra checked her cloak. Sixty seconds was doable. It was up to her. Not that she would even consider it.

"Sombra, if you're here, I just want to say that I understand if you don't come with us. I messed up, I shouldn't have done that to you. I'm sorry." Tracer called into the wind.

Sombra looked up at the desperate woman in front of her. Maybe, maybe she was wrong about her. She actually seemed genuine. Of course, she had before she kissed her, too.

Sombra didn't quite feel like it could be that simple, though. Maybe, it was because these people, this place was important to her. it was a big part of her life, and no matter what she did, she needed to be certain.

She thought to herself, and decided to come up with what she would do in Tracer's position, if she had made that mistake. Well, maybe not her, but someone that wasn't a peice of shit. What a good person would do.

They would do this.

The clock was ticking down, and the ship was gearing up to leave. Sombra could feel a pit in her stomach, and despite how ridiculous it seemed, she knew what she needed to do.

"Hey, Tracer!" Sombra called out, and decloaked. The brit's face of joy was, admitedly, pretty adorable. "You called?"

-------

Thump, thump, thump.

Lucio nodded his head with the beat, letting the melody flow throughout his entire body. He blithely kicked a nearby pile of snow as the bass dropped.

"Dammit, Lucio! God, I don't know why I decided to come with y'all." McCree complained after being showered by a bucnh of powderey white bullshit.

"Yeah, you probably should have known better." D .Va chuckled. Her laugh caught on with Lucio, and eventually McCree let a smile crack through.

The three of them had decided to go out together to look for Sombra. Though, honestly, Lucio was really mostly looking for an opportunity to wind down. Hence the music.

D .Va, who you would be hard pressed to find outside of a building without her mech, clunkily and loudly turned to face Lucio. "By the way, how'd it go with her?"

Lucio cocked his head. "Who, Sombra? I didn't really talk to her much." D .Va rolled her eyes.

"No the other one. You know, the one you threw a freaking plate at." DVa said nonchalanty.

Lucio let out a heavy sigh. "DVa, I don't want to talk about this right now."

Apparently, they didn't quite understand what I don't want to talk about this meant, because McCree started to pry as well.

"Yeah, I was wondering what happened with that."

Lucio turned off his music and let his head fall. "You two aren't going to let this go, are you?" After they both gave him a cocky look, he sighed for one final time and resigned himself to this coversation. "Okay, fine. We talked. She apologized. I forgave her. End of story."

Lucio turned to switch on his music even as DVa raised her eyebrow.

"Really?" DVa said. "You're not even the slightest bit peeved off about her being a part the team?"

At this point, Lucio was pretty fed up with this whole situation. "Well what the hell do you think, DVa? You think I'm happy that the bitch that screwed over my hometown is on 'my side' now and everybody just expects me to be all buddy-buddy with her? That she hasn't changed a damn thing about herself and this is all still somehow my fault?! Cause I can tell you now, she still the same person that stood idly by while her employers hurt people. We can't give someone a chance until they try first. She does NOT deserve that chance!"" Lucio yelled, growing progrresively agitated througout his tirade.

DVa flinched. "I didn't,... I just wanted to help."

"Well, you didn't." Even as the words left Lucio's mouth, he regretted them. Still, there was no going back. "Let's just find Sombra." Lucio said, mostly for himself.

DVa and Lucio, normally, would have resigned to walk in silence for a time, and made up later, once they both realized that all the mistakes they had made were mistakes and silently apologized for them. However, nothing that happened that day could probably have been described as normal, and so McCree interrupted their still ongoing coversation.

"Hey, guys, do you see that?" McCree pointed to a large, black helicopter.

"That, that definately isn't good," DVa said.

Lucio surveyed the copter for a brief second, picking up every detail he could. Slowly, his fears proved true. "McCree, is that what I think it is?"

"I think so."

Lucio cursed to himself, and turned around. "We gotta get back to the base. We've gotta tell everyone else."

D .Va, a newer initiate, hadn't quite caught on yet. "What? Guys, what's going on? What is that? Who is that?"

Lucio and McCree turned around together and answered.

"It's Talon, that's and stealth chopper, and Overwatch is under attack."

-------

This was a mistake.

Sombra currntly sat across a chopper from Tracer, who looked incredibly desperate, and Symmetra, who looked even more awkward than usual. At first, Tracer had been pretty chatty, bombarding Sombra with a string of sorry's and offering her hot cocoa, realizing they didn't have any, forgetting then offering her some again. Now, she just sat there, to embarresed to say anything.

Symmetra hadn't said a word.

At least it's not so cold in here.

Symmetra seemed to know not to fly the chopper anywhere until Sombra had made a decision. Not that she was really in a position to resist whatever they wanted to do to her. The stupidity of her actions struck Sombra once again.

Eventually, Symmetra spoke, either smart enough to know neither of the other two were going to or to stupid to know how strained the situation was. "So, do either of you have anything to say?"

There was a brief pause, filled with nothing but Sombra galring at Tracer, until Tracer balled her hands into fists and apologized.

"Sombra, I'm sorry. I should have known better. I hope, I hope you forgive me, I hope you can forgive me. We, we just aren't there yet, and I should have known that, I-"

Sombra, sensing that this was going to go on for a while, interrupted her. "Stop." Tracer immediately stopped talking, and for the first time sense Sombra had left, met her eyes. "You didn't just 'overstep my boundries'. Since the second I got here, you've done nothing but kiss my ass. You went out of your way to be nice to me because you thought it would make me like you. This wasn't a simple heat of the moment mistake, Tracer. You manipulated me. You actively and repeatedly chose to do that."

Tracer dipped her head, and Sombra felt that same anger from before rise up in her again. That was, until, Tracer said the unthinkable.

"You're right." Both the other women practically had a stroke when her voice reached their ears. "I was manipulating you. I, when I was in the splitstream, I'm sure you know about that, I saw something. I saw us, Sombra. We were a couple, we were in love, we were so happy. Seeing that was the only thing that got me through the splitstream. I would never have survived, if it weren't for you."

Suddenly, the whole thing made sense to Sombra, like that had been the final piece of the puzzle that finally pulled the whole picture together. No wonder Tracer had been so nice to her. No wonder Tracer thought that she'd be fine with being kissed. Sombra, wasn't sure how much she blamed Tracer anymore. Obviously, the problem was her fault, she was the one who had hurt Sombra, but she understood why. Honestly, Sombra would have probably done worse in her situation.

"Hey, Tracer." Tracer looked back up at her. "There are infinite timelines, right?" Tracer nodded. "How do you know that you didn't see us together in a different timelime?" Tracer's eyes widened and her mouth hung ajar.

"Oh my,-"

Just then, red lights started beeping and sirens began wailing. Symmetra nearly fell out of her chair, and Tracer jumped up to look at the screens.

"What is this? I don't recognize any of these signals." She fumbled with the controls, but the chopper remained stationary. "What, it's not moving! We're stuck!"

Sombra walked up behind her and looked over the screens. "Holy shit."

Symmetra, now behind them both, tapped her on the shoulder. "Sombra, do you know what's going on?" Sombra nodded.

"It's Talon." Immediately, realization dawned on the both of them.

Symmetra pulled up a few holographic screens and ran her fingers across them, and despite the situation, Sombra couldn't help but be reminded of herself. "We need to get back. My sonar's not picking up anything. Not even our ship."

"This is a full on attack, isn't it?" Tracer asked. She didn't need an answer. "We should head out immediately. We'll have to go on foot, but it isn't to far."

Sombra stood up, and walked to the back of the ship. Symmetra and Tracer watched her with worry.

"Sombra?" Tracer cautiously questioned.

Sombra stood still for a second, brow furrowed in contemplation. Well, she thought, I've already come this far. She suddenly whipped around, her face wearing a confident smirk. "We don't have to go on foot. I know how to get the ship running." Tracer cheered, then ran up to hug Sombra.

"Oh, I just knew you'd come around." She let go of Sombra, face flushed. "Oh, sorry."

Sombra brushed it off. She was on a roll right now, and she didn't want to mess it up. She confidently stepped over to the controls. "This'll only take a second." She chuckled to herself. "Talon will rue the day the screwed with Overwatch."

She hoped that didn't sound as melodramatic as she thought it did.

Chapter Text

The interior of the stealth chopper were completely silent. Despite the heavy metal blades whirring above, and the strong bitter wind howling outside, it was silent. Neither of the men said a word. It felt as if if either of them let out even one sound the chopper would suddenly be plucked out of the sky and fall to the ground below.

The two men inside the chopper sat still. One, the pilot, wore a black mask and matching black suit, and had a rifle slung over his shoulder.

The other was an infamous figure, as intimidating as he was elusive. Some, most notably his targets, even doubted his existence.

There would be no such targets today.

The man raised his hand, and pulled down a holographic screen from the roof of the vehicle. A quick glance over a few screens confirmed that those targets had reacted as planned. He let out a grunt, breaking the two's unspoken rite.

Reaper rolled his head to his right shoulder, then to his left. This was a long time coming. Time to finish what he started oh so long ago.

--------

"Code red: Attack on base. Chopper on north-east mountainside."

The pager cut to static as McCree ended his transmission. The three had just seen the chopper not too long ago, and after DVa ran a few tests, it seemed that their was no risk in using the radio. Now all that was left to do was wait for an answer.

They didn't have to wait long, as Winston answered almost immediately.

"Status?" His gruff voice answered back, almost mechanically from his hours of pouring over protocol. McCree sometimes thought that Winston ran through the protocol before he even realized he was speaking.

D .Va and Lucio allotted to let McCree finish the radio call. "It's Talon. Stealth Chopper. Knocked out our signals."

They could hear Winston grumble through the radio, immediately calling the image of his face furrowed in thought to their mind. "Strange. This... isn't adding up. The radio's should be out, unless... Unless they bugged us. Are you sure-"

Winston was interrupted by perhaps the only person they didn't expect.

"You don't have worry about that, thanks to me."

"What, Sombra? Is that you? What the... what happened? Don't you hate us right now?" D .Va jumped into the conversation.

She chuckled through the phone. "I still do, a little."

Winston chuckled. "Well, welcome back. We apologize for, well, Tracer apologizes for what she did." Winston said through the intercom.

"Yeah, don't blame that shit on me." McCree said with a snicker. He rolled his head from one side to the other. "Anyway, we need to get serious. What's our plan?"

"I, being the genius I am, hacked into the Talon ship and replaced their sonar with a programmed set of instructions. They'll think we're all in the house."

"Perfect." Winston responded. A short paused followed, filled with Winston's distinct grumbles, the same he always used when formulating a plan of action. Then, a high pitch beep rang throughout the radio network. "Overwatch, new mission. Sombra has rejoined, and Talon is attacking. Sombra has managed to hack their sonar. Everyone, relocate to the north-east mountainside. I'll send the exact location to all of you. Get here soon. We have an ambush to plan."

--------

DVa breathed in, then out. Her palms were clammy with sweat, so she let go of her mech's controls breifly to readjust her hold on the joysticks. This was no different than the thousands of other times she had gone on a mission, but it never stopped getting to her. Just how terrifyingly real it was. It still seemed insane how quickly she had gone from long drawn out nights in her darkened apartment, eyes glued to the flourescent screen to huge crowds roaring for her in ferverent anticipation.

And now this.

D .Va closed her eyes. Still, this was good. She had friends here. Great friends. She never thought she actually would have met one of her favorite musicians in real life. She let out a short snort. Or a genetically engineered gorilla. Or McCree. Why did he think that cowboy getup was a good idea?

She only had time to briefly contemplate how many times se had had this dialogue with herself before an unmistakable static sound filled her ear.

"Ready DVa?" Lucio's voice said through the radio. He always helped her keep her cool under the pressure.

"Ready."

DVa almost robotically jerked the joysticks together and flew out from behind the bluff. Her eyes quickly picked out the black chopper against the white background, and flipped a green switch on her left side. A green hologram appeared in front of her, and the chopper began to fulitly return fire against her. D. Va breaced for impact as she neared the chopper.

Once her mech and the chopper smashed into each other, D. Va lost most of her awareness. the only thing she could pick out as she tumbled toward the ground was the whooshing of rockets.

"Mother! Hurry up, we can't distract the pilot forever!" Pharah yelled trhough the intercom. The other woman didn't respond.

DVa's heart started to beat in her chest. What's going on? It shouldn't take Ana this long to find a clear shot. She found her bearings again, and started to fire at the chopper, her bullets barely scratching its ludicrously tough exterior.

"Girls! Get out of there!" Ana suddenly yelled through the intercom.

"Ana, what the hell's going on?" DVa yelled frantically. "Why can't you shoot the pilot?"

"There is no pilot." The other woman responded. DVa froze in her seat. It was a red herring.

DVa's trance was broken by Pharah's cries for help. She jerked into action, and scanned the other woman's situation. She was hovering only a few feet from the floor, and the chopper's guns were whirring up. D. Va flipped the small green switch, and let out a sigh of relief as the bullets desintegrated with a satisfying fizzle.

Unfotunately, she knew her power would run out before the chopper's bullets did. She sat still, watching the power bar deplete, until she knew she didn't have a choice. With a flick of her wrists, the mech sprung to action and threw itself in front of the other woman.

As bullets clattered against the glass of her mech, it suddenly dawned on DVa that she had made herself a human shield. "Somebody please do something!"

Her panicked cry turned into panicked breathing as the fortitude of the glass steadily dropped. With little to of time remaining before D .Va became a splotch of blood, she jammed the boosters and kicked herself out of the mech. Luckily, it remianed on a steady course and took on the brunt of the chopper's onslaught.

The mech crashed into the blades of the chopper, making an unbearible screeching sound as the solid steel was torn apart. The chopper started to spin down, but suddenly DVa couldn't foucus on that. Suddenly the cold snow seemed far too warm, and her heavy head far too light. She barely had time to notice the blood dripping from her sides before the pain stabbed into her.

D .Va went fuzzy after that. There was a great deal of screaming and commotion, but only two things were clear in her mind. One was Lucio telling her that she was going to be fine, then yelling that they needed to get her back to the base.

The other was an explosion.

-------

Reaper's body reformed from immaterial, now inside Overwatch's latest hideout. He knew no one was expecting him. They were to preocuppied with the "stealth chopper" outside. Morons.

His boots pushed against the floor, propelling him forward silently. Reaper always noticed that, how even when solid he didn't quite feel like a real thing. Somehow, it was a strangely comforting thought.

He knew this base like the back of his hand, which was unsurprising. He memorized the designs of all the bases back in Blackwatch. All their twists turns and corridors. All their weaknesses.

He knew that someone had to man the defense turrets. They were programmed not to shoot without command, as a sign that Overwatch wanted to be peaceful, so that any nation could approach them at any time. He had told them it was a stupid idea. But they didn't listen. Just like they didn't listen about everything. He was just paranoid, after all. Always looking over his shoulder for signs of danger, of catastorphe. It's not like that could ever happen.

It's not like your worst enemies could disguise themselves as your greatest allies, or even thin they were. That someone you tossed aside long ago would ever come back with a vengence, not like Reaper had a reason to be looking over his shoulder. They all would have done the same thing, if they had seen what he had.

But its not like that mattered. All that mattered now was the mission. Talon owned him, without them, he would shrivel away and die.

He wasn't Gabriel Reyes anymore. He was Reaper.

Reaper ran his hand down an all to familiar strip of wall, just between the conference room and the dorms. It was a the exact center of the facility, equal distance from every location, from the bays to the labs. He pressed the exact right spot, invisible to anyone that wasn;t looking for it, as they had trained to a thousand times before. A small latch opened, and he typed in the code.

7. 3. 5. 1. 2. His hands raced over all twenty digits. The self-destruct code. Only to be used if enemies were far to deep into Overwatch to be taken care of any other way.

How perfect.

The latch snapped shut, and Reaper turned to walk the way he had already come. Unfortunately, no one was inside. They had all went out to fight the other chopper, the fake. Reaper was steaming when he found out, that his perfect vengence had been thwarted by chance, but it's not like it mattered. With no rescources other than what they could fit on their backs, and no funding from the UN, Overwatch would be powerless. All they could do was watch while all they had worked for burned.

Just like he did. Just like he was going to do. Reaper had known that for a while, so he had told the escape man to wait untilo after the blast. Reaper wanted to see it destroyed.

So seconds before the bases fuses lit up, as red ligths and sirens filled the halls, he transformed. The feeling was sureal. Being a shadow was one thing, to be one second and then not the next was, interesting, but this time it was different. He could feel the force of the explosion hit him, and he knew that he should be ripped limb from limb, torn to little bloody chunks, but he simply wasn't. He could feel the heat around him, inside him, but Reaper did not burn. He was a ghost, a phantasm.

And just as suddenly as it started, it stopped. Of course it did, though. It was an explosion. that was how explosions worked. But he couldn't help but feel, disappointed. But if life had proved anything to him, it wa that it was full of dissappointments. And misery. And death.

He could have listed more, but he heard someone behind heim. He didn't have to turn to know who it was. So as he returned to the land of the living, he growled the man's name.

"Morrison."

"Reyes."

Neither said a word after that. Neither shot at or tried to hurt the other. Both knew the damage had been done. Not just today, but a long time ago. So they waited, for nothing in particular, until a helicopter's blades broke the silence. Reaper laughed. Or, grunted may be more acurate.

Reaper turned around. "I'm not Reyes anymore."

Morrison laughed a bitter laugh, then removed his visor, revealing his scarred, useless eyes. "And I'm not Morrison anymore." They both knew this was the last straw. Neither of them were the men that had founded Overwatch. Each had lost to much to think that way anymore, to have grand dreams of saving the world.

Reaper closed his own eyes, thinking over both their ruined lives and discarded identities, of all they had lost in their own eternal wars, and fell backwards over the cliff's edge. And as he fell through the blades and ceiling and onto the floor, he wished, just for a second, that he would never have to open them again.

-------

Tracer sat and twiddled her thumbs, literally. She wasn't sure why she even tried, it's not like it helped calm her down. She had wanted to help Hana, but didn't know anything about medicine or how to treat bulletwounds. She had wanted to help Morrison go investigate the base, but he had slipped off on his own sometime during all the commotion over Hana.

Speak of the devil.

"It was Reyes." Morrison said. "He got away." He sat down, as if that could answer any question they were going to ask him. Not like they could have gotten any more out of him, though.

Tracer breathed out a heavy sigh, and dipped her head before her ears picked up on someone from behind.

"Hana's going to be okay, if you're wondering." Sombra said.

Tracer nearly fell out of her seat. And by nearly, I mean did. "Y-you!" Tracer exclaimed.

"Me!" Sombra agreed enthusiatsically. Her chipper demeanour faded quickly, however. "I suppose your wondering why I came to talk to you?"

Tracer didn't answer. Sombra sighed.

"Well, I never liked to beat around the bush." Sombra continued. "So I wanted to talk to you about your, feelings for me."

Tracer mocked a laugh. "You know what I wanna talk about? Anything else!"

Sombra chuckled. "I don't blame you, but, but this is important. You know it is." Tracer nodded slowly, avoiding eye contact rather delibrately, and Sombra continued.

"I've been thinking about it a bit, and I don't think that you love me, you love the idea of me, what I represent to you. But that's not who I am. If we were ever going to get together, you'd have to move past idolizing me because of what you saw in the Slipstream and learn about who I actually am." Sombra paused and turned to Tracer. "Do, do you understand?"

Tracer looked down, cheeks reddening. "Yeah. I do."

The pair sat in awkward silence after that, neither looking at anything in particular, or really interested in anything for that matter.

"So, what are going to do now?" Sombra asked. "Do any of you have a plan?"

Tracer let out a laugh, relieved to finally have the tension broken. "Nope! None at all!" She laughed even harder when she saw the look on Sombra's face. "Welcome back to Overwatch, Sombra!" Tracer wrapped Sombra up in a tight hug, and Sombra chuckled.

Some part of Tracer was sad. Sad to hear Sombra talk about them being together in hypotheticals, to feel like she was losing her without ever really having her. But mostly she was just happy to have Sombra around, as another member of the crazy family of misfits and freaks that was Overwatch.