Soldier: 76 sat in his office, looking over expense reports and mission dossiers. Things at the OverHouse had become even more hectic than usual as of late. Frankly, Soldier wasn't sure he'd be able to handle it all without Ana and Mercy's help. He really should've thanked them for their work, but Jack Morrison was the type of man to save the thanks and congratulations until after the mission was over.

"I need a drink…" he muttered to himself.

"Oh, really?" The air in front of his desk shimmered, eventually fading into the image of Sombra. She wore a satisfied smirk and held a glass bottle in her hand, which she shook gently. "Well, I just so happen to have this here whiskey? Would you care for some?"

"That's McCree's," noted Soldier. "And I'm getting sick of telling you: closed door means stay out."

"First, Abuelo, this used to be McCree's," said Sombra. "Second, your door was open when I came in."

"Bullshit. I never saw you come in."

"Well, duh. It'd be no fun if you saw me coming." Sombra vanished with a wave of her hand, reappearing on top of Soldier's desk. She sat the whiskey down and crossed her legs. "Anyway, Abuelo, I needed to ask you a favor."

"And you think breaking into my office is a good way to go about getting your favor?" growled Soldier.

"Door was open, so, at worst, I snuck in. Breaking and entering is so 21st century," said Sombra with a laugh. Then, for the first time since they met, Sombra got serious. "Okay, Abuelo. No jokes. I really need a favor from you."

Soldier studied Sombra intently for a moment, trying to figure her out. On one hand, everything about her screamed deception and trickery. As a notorious hacker, her past shrouded in mystery, Sombra wasn't exactly the most trustworthy of people. Soldier didn't even know her real name. So, for all Soldier knew, this was some sort of play.

On the other hand, Sombra seemed to genuinely enjoy living at the OverHouse. She had been with them for quite some time and had yet to do anything to harm anyone in the house. Sure, she could be infuriating, and certain members of the House (namely Reaper) would gladly shoot her if they could get away with it, but this was her home now. Jack reasoned it was because Overwatch reminded her of Los Muertos: a tightly-knit family who committed felonies near-daily. And, although Soldier: 76 liked to think that his squad was more than a Mexican street gang, he couldn't deny the level of camaraderie and familial bonding that his team had.

"I'm listening," said Soldier. Sombra perked up slightly, a smile creeping to her lips.

"So, I have this friend who's fallen on hard times recently," said Sombra. "He was evicted, and he got laid off from his work, and he has no one to turn to. So, I was wondering… Could he stay here?"

"What the hell do you think this is, the goddamn Ritz-Carlton?" demanded Soldier. "I can't just let random civies into a goddamn military base!"

"He's no civie. He knows his way around the battlefield. If you promise him a bed to sleep in and three hot meals a day, he'll fight for you," said Sombra. "And trust me, Abuelo, you want him to fight for you."

"Still… I don't know if this is a good idea…"

Sombra dropped to her knees, her hands folded in pitiful begging. She pouted out her bottom lip, even managing to make her eyes tear up.

"Please, Abuelo? Do this for me? I'll wash dishes for a month, and I'll do laundry for the whole house, and I promise, he's no freeloader." Sombra fluttered her eyelashes pitifully. "¿Por favor?"

Soldier clutched his head, unsure as to how things had gotten to this point. Twenty years ago, he was the head of the largest military unit in the entire world, the pinnacle of world peace and unity. Today, a small Mexican girl was begging him to let her friend stay.

"Christ, I must be losing my mind…" growled Soldier. "Fine! He can stay, on a probationary period. If I'm not impressed with him in 30 days, you better help him find an apartment."

"You promise?" asked Sombra. Soldier groaned, burying his face in his hands.

"Yes, Sombra. I promise."

There was a loud, thunderous knock, causing the house itself to quake. Sombra jumped up, clapping with excitement.

"He's here! Come, let's go greet him!" Sombra ran out of the office, followed by Soldier, his paperwork long since forgotten. He shook his head as he followed Sombra through the halls, eventually stopping at the main entrance to the house. Soldier grunted tiredly, then pulled the door open.

Standing on the other side was a massive man, easily seven feet in height. He wore a grey sweatshirt, with the right arm positively obliterated to accommodate the giant, golden gauntlet he wore over his arm. His left arm seemed to be a prosthetic, though a very convincing one. He stared down at Soldier, who stared right back up at him for several moments before Sombra broke the silence.

"¿Ey, hermano, que pasa? It's been ages!" said Sombra brightly. "Aka, this is Abuelo, Soldier: 76. Abuelo, this is—"

"Akande Ogundimu," said Soldier stiffly. "Also known as Doomfist."

"Greetings, Captain," said Doomfist, his voice deep and low. "I thank you for allowing me to stay here."

"Which you totally did Abuelo," said Sombra. "You promised and everything!"

"That was before I knew your friend was the leader of an international band of terrorists!"

"To be fair, Abuelo, that's kinda on you for not asking."

Before Soldier could yell at Sombra, they were interrupted by the sound of footsteps down the stairs.

"What is all this racket?" asked Widowmaker as she descended down the staircase. "I'm trying to…" Widow's eyes went wide, and a rare grin flashed across her face. "Akande! It simply has been forever!"

"You are right. It has been far too long since I last laid eyes on beauty such as yours." Doomfist took Widow's hand in his own, kissing it gently. "It is nice seeing you, Amelie. But wait. Where is The Reaper? Wherever you are, Gabriel cannot be far behind."

"Of course not. Reyes wouldn't ever get anything done if I wasn't around to clean up his messes. I'll go tell him you've arrived, then we must catch up."

"That sounds wonderful, ọlọ́kàn mi," chuckled Doomfist. He kissed Widow's hand again before letting her go to fetch Gabriel. Meanwhile, Soldier: 76 continued to angrily glare at him, apparently making no attempt to break the silence. "Is something the matter, Captain?"

"Listen here, and listen good. This is my house, and these people are my family. Last time you had a run in with my family, you hurt someone I care about very dearly," said Soldier.

"I am sorry for—"

"No. You're not. But, if you do anything to hurt anyone in this house, I will make you sorry. Very, very sorry. Sorry you showed your face around here, sorry you broke out of prison, sorry that you ever put that glove on your hand. So, understand this, Ogundimu, you are in my house now. That means you live by my rules. If you break any of my rules, I won't just lock you in a cage and throw away the key. I will put you in a hole." Soldier jabbed Doomfist in the chest with his finger. "And throw away the hole."

"Eh… Abuelo?" said Sombra. "That doesn't make any—"

"And, for tricking me into making this promise, you get dishes and laundry duty for three months."

"But Abuelo!"

"Is that sass I hear? Cause sass is good for six months."

It went quiet for a bit as Sombra stared at the ground, totally defeated.

"Sorry, Abuelo…"

"Good. I actually believe that." Soldier considered his options. "We don't have a room for you right now, so you'll be in the basement."

"That is more than sufficient," said Doomfist with a good-natured grin. "At least you have internal heating! More than I can say for my last home."

"Winston is down there," said Soldier with a smirk. Doomfist's grin faltered for just a moment before popping right back up.

"Well. If ever there was a time to make amends… I will see you in the morning, Captain Morrison."

"And I better get to work on this laundry," sighed Sombra. "Thank you, Abuelo. This really does mean a lot to me. See you around."

She waved her hands and translocated out of the room. Soldier watched as Doomfist slowly trudged through the hall, headed for downstairs. The biggest criminal in the world, responsible for many deaths and countless dollars worth of destruction, was living in his basement.

"What the hell is even happening with my life?" sighed Soldier. "I hope Sombra didn't take that whiskey back…"