The Texan Desert. 60 Miles South of Ft Stockton.
The facility couldn't have been easier to break into- or so Sombra had figured.
"A communications base. And everything is wired to a central net: juego de niños."
With that, she flicked up a small holopanel, before proceeding to tap away at a speed neither Lamont nor McCree could quite understand. After about a second and a half, the sound of power shutting down in the facility greeted their ears.
"Wow, Sombra, you're getting slow at breaking and entering." Lamont mused, raising an eyebrow.
She cackled, before replying "Care to try it, amiga? Let's go, before they figure out how to switch it on again."
With that, the trio slipped through the hole in the perimeter wire and made a beeline for the first cover they could see.
"Remember, nobody fires a shot unless we have to."
McCree nodded. "Guess we're doing this the ole' fashioned way, huh?"
"That indeed. Let's go downtown on 'em."
Compared to their colleagues on the other side of the world, they actually understood the meaning of stealth. They moved as one through the Advocate facility, gleefully dismantling the operatives within. They came to a steel door.
"I though y'all said you'd opened the doors, girl." McCree muttered, slyly.
Sombra snapped at him, gibbering away in Spanish. More likely a barrage of insults, given she hated her reputation being questioned. While they disputed the fact of the door being shut, Lamont got to work. As usual, the important stuff's locked down manually, he noted as he wired up PX-9 inside the barrel of the lock, though I happen to have a skeleton key.
He turned his back as he blew the lock, without bothering to warn Sombra or McCree. That had the added effect of snapping them out of their argument. The three faced the door, still held by its hinges.
"You realise all mother of trouble is probably waiting in there, amiga?"
"Perfectly." With that, the three took a boot to the door, the combined force ripping it off its damaged hinges and sending it flying about six feet across the room. Sombra wasn't wrong: as the sight of several dozen aiming lasers greeted them.
"J, give them your gift."
McCree smiled, as he swept his hand from under his poncho, slinging a flashbang into the center of the room. The trio dropped to one knee, taking the typical precautions they had learned when working around flashbangs: eyes closed, mouth open, and fingers over the earplugs they were wearing. A loud crack followed by agonised howling signified the success of the plan, as the lasers were pointed in all directions. Rather than waste ammo and risk damaging any of the computers that would potentially hold intel, they chose to get up close and personal. Sombra slid between two half-dazed gunners before popping up, grappling one by the head as she took down the other. Omega and McCree were somewhat less finessed where their fighting skills lay: while Omega decided to fall back on his unarmed training- dating back a century or so- McCree decided to go for traditional fisticuffs. It worked great, until he tried punching someone in the chest who was twice his size and several times his weight.
The fight was over in under a minute. The groaning, incapacitated Advocates littered the floor of the control room.
"Well, that's sure one way to get the blood pumpin'. Haven't had a fight like that since my days with Deadlock..."
Omega and Sombra laughed as they set to work finding information. Sombra paused as she realised something. Spinning around, she spotted a camera on the wall.
"We're being watched." She whispered to the pair.
"Greetings, dickheads." The voice boomed out across the tannoy in the room. "Or should I say, goodbye."
A digital counter took up each of the undamaged screens. Counting down from 60. Sombra swore under her breath.
"I take it you can't wax that device?"
"Nada."
"Right. Grab what you can and let's get the fuck outta here!"
Sombra worked frantically on the server while Lamont and McCree flitted through the drawers, stripping them of anything important and shoving them into the knapsacks. The counter hit twenty seconds.
"GO! LET'S MOVE!" The trio sprinted through back through the door, barely clearing the doorway into the lower facility before a searing heat hit them from behind as a shockwave flattened them. They picked themselves up as they realised the structure was still standing.
"That was an-" Sombra was cut off, mid-sly remark, as they were showered with dust and shards of concrete. An I-beam blocked the door as more chunks of concrete fell.
McCree glanced out from the brow of his Stetson.
"Fuck this!"
With that, he dived through a window. Sombra and Lamont looked at each other. "Ladies first." With that, Sombra followed by Lamont made headway.
They landed in a heap on top of McCree.
"Ow, hey! Who said you could use my ass as a cushion?!"
As the three stood up and dusted themselves off, Sombra chose to make up for her being cut off previously. "Well, if you class cushions as being bony and full of .44 Shells ready to go..."
As he glanced over, McCree noticed something that looked out of place. A patch had been torn open on an Advocate by shrapnel and debris. He uncovered it, tearing open the sleeve. "Uh, guys..."
The pair looked in at the sleeve McCree was holding. The patch on the sleeve. Talon.
Lamont turned to Sombra. "Looks like the bastards have been hiding things from you too. Fancy a change of company."
A wry grin appeared on her face. "Si, but only if-"
"You get to do as you please and nick whatever information you like? Sure, go ahead."
She popped open another holoscreen. "I managed to crack which frequency their cameras are working on. Welcome to Sierra Leo-" she gasped as the feed appeared. Reaper, Doomfist, Morrison and- Ana?- were locked in a standoff. Obviously, something had set them off.
"We got voice?"
Sombra nodded, clicking a few things on-screen. The hoarse tones of Gabriel came through the speaker.
"When the fuck were you gonna tell me you were reactivating everyone, huh? Huh?!"
"Easy, easy. Put the fucking weapon down."
Lamont, Sombra and McCree all knew immediately what the problem was: Leone must've had intel regarding NEOverwatch. And Gabriel didn't like that one bit.
"Right, we're gonna have to stop them. Give me your translocator. McCree, head for the old airstrip out by Houston, you'll find transport there. I'll see you two in Leone."
As he knelt down and grabbed the corpse, McCree stopped and turned to face him. "How're you getting there?"
Lamont looked up, briefly. "By doing something I really don't wanna have to do. Close your eyes and get ready. This'll be loud." He closed his eyes and lowered his breathing. White electrical sparks appeared from almost nowhere. Lamont cried out as they connected. A white flash blinded the pair as a deafening crack filled the air. As their vision returned, they glanced over to where Lamont had been, only to see a scorched circle around his last place.
AUTHOR ENDNOTE
Sorry it's taken so long to get this chapter out, I've had a bit of a creative lapse, as you may be able to tell by my writing style, as well as having a lot to get in order in life. I'll try and get the next chapter done soon. I hope you like the (semi) plot twist. A few of you may have already guessed it.
