Trying to shepherd us somewhere safe goes about as well for Zenyatta as you'd expect.
He has trouble keeping up with us as we barrel through the temple, on the hunt for what we're facing. There's the sound of helicopters now underneath the alarm, accented by the chatter of the occasional Shambali.
"Widowmaker, I strongly suggest that you do not attempt extraneous movement for the next three to seven days, considering your condition," he calls from behind us.
"Hey, she's doing better than you at the moment," I point out.
Widow casts a (perhaps sympathetic) look at our trailing third, but still directs her attention at me for the most pressing matters. "Where is my gun?"
"We'll get you one," I assure her, sticking my finger in my ear and trying to contact Reaper through the comms. I'm brutally reminded of Widow's scrambler as a line of static shorts in my ear. "Dammit! We'll have to find búho the old fashion way."
"He can take care of himself," Widow says, "what we need right now is-"
The monastery shakes. A banner falls from the ceiling, catching in the ass-load of candles that litter the chamber we're currently in. I slide, skittering like a Looney Toon as I try not run face-first into the flaming band of fabric that now blocks our path.
Like the skinniest firefighter I've ever seen, Genji leaps from the nearest archway, skewering the banner with his sword and throwing it into the pit below. He sheaths his sword, apparently since jumping out of shadows and saving people from malevolent blankets is no biggie.
"…That was almost unfortunate," he notes. "Are you three alright?"
"Hey, thanks to you." I cast a look down the void to our left. "Yeesh, talk about non-OSHA compliance."
"Thank you…Genji…you have…impeccable…timing," Zenyatta wheezes as he finally catches up with us. Okay, I haveto be imagining that; robots can't run out of breath.
Seeing us all accounted for, Genji gives a grateful nod. I think. It might just be a nod perfectly-neutral-acknowledgement. Genji calls over his shoulder, "Reyes! I found them!"
It doesn't take long for Reaper to materialize from the shadows above, the same way Genji had come. His entrance might have even been badass if I hadn't just seen a man stab fire with a sword.
"Have you ever noticed that bad things always happen when we split up?" I muse to the rapt attention of my party.
"Good things do not tend to happen when we are together, either," Widow says.
That's Reaper's cue to grab an extra gun off his back and toss it her. She catches the rifle with an appreciative grunt, quickly checking the stock and ammo supply.
I raise an eyebrow at Reaper. "You raid the armory on the way over here? Didn't know this place had one."
"From the ship we brought down," he clarifies. "Before the latest wave started firing."
"Uhg," I groan. "Don't remind me. Who the hell is even attacking us this time?"
"Who do you think?" Reaper snorts.
"I mean I know," I tell him, waving my hand dismissively, "but how did they find us? We've disabled everything…" With another groan, I pinch my forehead. "They must have followed the signal into the dead zone. Probably didn't take them long to scout the area and find this is the only place of note."
"No matter how they found us," Genji cuts in, "they will not live long enough to harm anyone here." He gazes at the rest of us. "Are you with me?"
Widow examines her gun one more time, finding it to her satisfaction. Reaper looks up to where the sound of helicopters are still whirring, grunts and gives a nod.
"Eh," I say. "Why not?"
There's fighting out in the shrine. The five of us approach from the north side, planning to join the fray and force a retreat (invoking Talon protocol 2795A, as Reaper so helpfully reminds us.) At first I was a little skeptical of letting Zenyatta join us—the omnic looks like he could barely hold a teacup without collapsing—but he assured me he was far from defenseless. As we arrive at the scene, I can see what he means.
Shitty little robot monks are kicking Talon ass. Steel balls going 150kph go whipping left and right, smashing into architecture and human tissue alike. Even as Genji drops off into the chaos below, a soldier is thrown into the wall at his left, her skull done in by An Orb that's a lot more terrifying than the one I used to worry about.
"I thought you guys were pacifists!" I shout to be heard over the screaming.
"These people have invaded our home…" Zenyatta says, his necklace of orbs spinning to life.
"…And removed the chance of compromise," Genji finishes, drawing his blade. With that he charges, his movements so fast I can barely see the silver blur as it cascades through at least four enforcers.
"Dang," I say to Reaper. "I may be going out on a limb here but, I think attacking this temple may have seriously touched a nerve."
Maybe it's because they don't know to give a well-formed Talon attack a healthy amount of respect, but the monks rip through the assault like it's their birthday piñata. I barely have time to hack a heavy assault before a nearby omnic guns it down, her opportunity for a piffy one-liner boiling down to, find peace in the Iris. Yeesh. Talk about nutjobs.
"How you doing up there, araña?" I call to Widow, perched on the shrine and raining hell on high.
"Better if I had something more practical to wear," she points out. Not looking away, she kills the enemy sniper with a crack, and watches her fall to the ground. "Amateur."
"Practical?" I laugh. "How is a bunch of robes any less practical than walking around in a sexy purple gimp suit?"
"It is a leotard," she growls, and oooo I've got her! "It is light and form fitting and does not flap about whenever I move!" As she says it, the robe does get a little more tangled in her leg.
I roll my eyes. "It's a cat suit chica. You look like a scantily clad superhero."
"It is for easier range of motion."
She sounds like she's about to come down and smack me. I grin, Reaper sighs. It's always nice to remember she does have one button I can push.
Genji jumps over the railing where Reaper and I are crouched, "reloading" between the bouts of gunfire beyond our cover. He looks between me, Widow, and Reaper before saying to Gabe, "you let them get away with much more bickering than Jesse and I ever did."
"Look," Reaper growls, "this is the only ongoing argument they've had for the past three years, and they've never roped me into it. I'd like to keep it that way."
I have a feeling that if we weren't in the middle of a firefight, Genji would shake his head.
The fight itself doesn't even take that much longer anyways, what with Genji carving through his enemies like they're Christmas turkey. The sound of the retreat isn't audible to us, but it must go through the comms since the last remaining operatives start to pull out with their tails between their legs.
Genji is about to finish off an injured assassin, when Reaper stops him. "Wait. She's a lieutenant. She'll know things the others won't."
I swear I can feel Genji's eyes narrow through his helmet. "We will not be torturing anyone, Reyes."
"Relax, I'm just going to ask her a few questions." I don't know if Genji believes him fully, but he doesn't stop as Reaper pushes past him and crouches in font of his victim. "Hi there." Oh good. He's using his Scary Voice.
Half of her mask is smashed in; probably won't be seeing out of that eye ever again, if she even survives her numerous other injuries. The blades attached to her elbows are snapped off, and she's struggling to breath between coughs. She's completely at his mercy. And yet, when she catches sight of him, all she does is laugh.
Reaper isn't as amused. He leans in further. "Let's cut to the chase. You know who I am. Talk to me before I hand you over to the tin cans."
A string of giggles is her reply. I've always found that assassins to be creepy, but I at least tried to keep my distance from them. Holding a conversation with one is just plain counter-productive.
Reaper must think so too, because he turns his hand to smoke and plunges it inside her chest. The assassin gasps, the not-quite-pain of having something incorporeal floating inside your body. "That all? Come on, I'm sure Akande has something to say to me."
The assassin writhes. Out of the corner of my eye I see Genji move, but before I can plan to intercept him, the assassin says, "not…you."
That surprises Reaper right out of his shtick. "What do you mean 'not me?'"
"…Not you….her." The assassin lifts her finger and points it, shaking, at me. Then she giggles again. Maybe it's not even intentional for her, just a nervous tick.
"Just me?" I say, raising my hand to my chest innocently. "Not even a 'fuck you Gabe' to our mutual friend?"
"You…" Her voice is jittering now, fading fast. "You…h…key."
My immediate reaction is pat down all my pockets to see if I have a key on me somewhere. I'm about to ask her what the hell she means before she shudders on last time, head lolling to the side.
"Useless," Reaper mutters, rising to his feet. "Cryptic bullshit. The assassins are always out of their goddamned minds."
"The process can be grueling," Widow agrees, landing from the shrine's roof with a soft puff of snow. "Some are not built to survive it."
I catch sight of Genji. He's staring at the assassin, expression unreadable as always, but I have a feeling he's a bit more than unsettled. Before I can try to sooth his ruffled feathers, he turns sharply, saying, "I hope that was worth it."
He marches off, joining the small ring of casualties closer to the shrine. Zenyatta's already among them, tending to omnics with bullet wounds and dents in their exoskeletons. The yellow ball of light floats between them, stitching metal as easily as it mended skin. Something about watching them, the gentle serenity, the community that they're trying to hold together…it makes me glad we helped, even if only a little.
But that's not the only thing we're responsible for. I turn to Widow and Reaper, my resolve strengthening. "Hey, Gabe. Remember when you asked me if I should stay here and put in some roots?"
Healing smoke twitches at the sides of his mask. "Yeah?"
"I think we should do the exact opposite of that."
He bows his head momentarily, and I can imagine him narrowing his eyes in understanding.
Widow isn't far behind. "You want to end Doomfist."
I breath in. And out. In and out. Be brave Sombra; for once in your life face this mess you've made. "Look. I tried to take down Talon once, but I messed up big. I was sloppy, and it's cost me 'n everyone else. I fucked up taking them down…" I look at the two people in front of me. "…In more ways than one."
Because finishing what I started is going to be ugly and painful. I've let the wound fester, but I know that thisis what's important, letting myself keep a team when I finally get back on the hunt. Fuckmy own stupid, confused feelings. This is worth getting over them for. This is worth going back and fixing old mistakes.
"I think it's time I clean up some loose ends," I finish.
I look between Widow and Reaper, holding my breath despite myself. Widow is staring at me intensely, like I'm about to shed my sincere facade and say just kidding! It was really me, (Sombra!), the whole time! But for once I do mean it, goddamn it. Can't a girl do a complete one-eighty on all her goals/morals without getting the stink-eye?
Reaper…Reaper just sighs. Less surprised, less pissed, less everything than Widow seems to be. I guess being gone for a day did leave her out of quite a few changes to interpersonal dynamics.
"I know where he was last," Reaper admits finally. I let the air back into my lungs. "But, he knows that I know, so it's a lose-lose situation."
I'm about to cut in a well if it were a win-win we'd be heading to Las Vegas but Widow, bless her ever-patient heart, humors him. "What exactly do you mean by that?"
Some glowers can corrode metal and rot souls. His is one of them. "Because either he's already gotten the hell out of dodge…or he's expecting us."
Ümụ Bebi Developments situates itself halfway between Oyo and Ibadan, wishing to be forgotten, and doing a pretty good job of it. It's 304,800 square meters of fortified nightmares, crawling with troopers and black transport craft, the last bastion of Talon's living operations. Or one would assume so. But that assumption cost me last time, and the perennial fear churns in the back or my mind that even if we win gloriously tonight and angels sing from the heavens, somehow it won't be the end of it.
I shake myself, surveying the red-roofed compound in the twilight, knowing that a pessimistic attitude never got me anywhere. I try to bring myself to the present, remembering that as soon as I give the go ahead, our little team will be splitting up once again. Depressing, considering our other goodbye wasn't long ago.
We left the monastery worse than we found it, although with luck that's the last damage we'll do.
"It would be wise to tell me where you are going," Genji said as we readied to board our craft out of there. (Adiosanother three thousand dollars. :/ ) "I should know where to find your bodies, at the least."
"You could always come with us you know," I said, lazily flexing my nails. "After what you did to those pendajos? We could use the extra support."
A snort. "I think I will pass on your suicide mission."
"Eh," I said, "worth a shot."
"Forget about us, Genji," Reaper warned. "You're all better off that way."
Genji looked like he was about to protest, but relented the last second. I didn't begrudge him for staying—that place is his place, and they were all doing just fine until we showed up.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Zenyatta and Widow quietly talking, his hands resting over hers. It was serene.
And serene was where we left it, forgoing the mountains and heading on a straight shot for Nigeria, days later stepping out onto the streets of Oyo. It took another two sunsets to formulate a plan, one that worked to all three of our satisfactions, before we finally settled outside of Ụmụ Bebi one chilly July night. The summer heat leaves quickly here.
Even with every sign pointing to a final confrontation, only Reaper and I are going forward, leaving Widow behind once again. Just like we always do.
Okay that's a bit melodramatic, but the thought of abandoning her while we meet Doomfist feels like it's just begging for something to go wrong. That's all it is though, a feeling. In reality, she'll be with us the whole time, watching us from her vantage point, providing valuable intel over our (finally) working comms. If anything, she's the person least in danger in all of this but…
My shoulders slump as I watch the guards change rotation. That's my cue. Can't put it off any longer.
I slide down to where Reaper and Widow and hiding, my appearance the only signal they need. It looks like they were sharing an intimate moment before I landed in the bushes, and for a second I break to consider What Exactly I Feel about that. I settle on…acceptance. Whatever makes then happy should make me happy too, but shouldand doare too far apart right now. "Not hysterical" will have to do.
"You ready to roll, Gabe?" I ask him. He nods, rising to a knee and preparing to move out. That leaves me with Widow, and god I wish I had the tact to say something profound right now.
She takes the responsibility. "Go on, Sombra. Set us free."
I nod, and give a smile that should look halfway genuine. She doesn't smile back, but I swear her eyes soften.
We're gone before I can make it stretch unnaturally longer, waiting at least a couple seconds before activating communications. Y'know. To not look desperate. We roll in silently, and Reaper wraps an arm the guard I was so preoccupied with before. A distinct, choked struggle and he's silenced—our first martyr in the long line of victims leading to the highest floor of Ụmụ Bebi. Because of course he's up at the top in his Super Secure Lair; no one joins Talon without being a little Extra™.
"I'm in," Widow says in our ears, not a minute after Reaper and I breached the inner courtyard. "I have you in my sights."
I peer against the backdrop of starry sky, spotting the watchtower we agreed Widow would infiltrate. She should have a good view from there, able to watch our backs as we finagle our way through.
Before I even finish the thought, her voice follows it up with, "one guard, approaching on your six. Their arrival is imminent."
Reaper and I both tense, and I whip around to where Widow spied them to see nothing. That only makes my alarm grow, my finger slipping to the trigger of my SMG-
Piff!
The soft hiss of a suppressor, and a body falls from the floor above us as literally squashes me beneath it.
"Oof," I mutter, shoving it off me with a grunt. "Wow. Thank you so much araña. Really making things easier."
"Any time." I can hear the corner of her mouth turn slightly upward.
"Can you stop being smarmy for ten minutes?" Reaper asks me. "We're trying to be stealthy here."
"Ooo, smarmy. That's a new one. I like it."
"Well good," he says, peeking around a corner and making sure no one's here to accidently pick up on our squabble. "Because that's what the both of you are turning into when you're not making goo-goo eyes at each other."
If I had been walking I would have tripped over my own two feet and then some, crashing into a horrified halt. Instead, I do the verbal equivalent, spluttering out several variations of "huh?"
It's enough to make Reaper look over at me and give a disbelieving snort, like my dawning dread is a fucking act.
"What? Are you talking about?" I ask, trying to bring the pitch of my voice down to casual disinterest.
"There is no need to feign ignorance, Sombra," Widow (oh so helpfully) decides to chime in my ear. "I have already told him how you tried to kiss me."
If I was tongue tied before it's nothing on my state now. "What? I never- that didn't-….you tried to kiss me!" I glare at the empty space before me, like I can accuse Widow's transient ghost or something.
Reaper shushes me, his focus so allegedly on the mission that he seems to be rolling his eyes instead of freaking the fuck out.
"We will call it a mutual interest," Widow belies. I want to argue further but what do you even say to that? Your advances gave me a small crisis and almost made me leave the both of you in the middle of the night? Widow senses my apprehension. "You seem adverse to the topic, Sombra. Have your feelings changed?"
I groan rubbing my face in my hands, wishing we were somewhere less out in the open and Widow couldn't look down her scope and see the embarrassment on my cheeks. But Reaper still hasn't given the go ahead and I'm ass-deep in a compound that hates every cell in my body. "Do you really think now's the best time to be discussing this?" I try weakly.
No answer.
But.
Reaper turns from where he's been keeping a lookout and stares directly at me. I can't even beginto imagine what hethinks of me, but I can picture the look of contained frustration as he grabs my arm. I blink in surprise, and let myself be pulled aside: still not out of the sniper tower's sight, but closer to the protection of the building. An uncomfortable air radiates off the Reaper, and not just the usual smoky stuff. No, the shifting on his feet makes him seem genuinely unsure, as shitty at saying the right thing as I usually am.
"Look Sombra," he says, and oh boy I'm in for it. But he goes on, "this whole thing is fucked up. Not from when you blew Talon sky high, but even before that, from the moment we all met. It wasn't the start to a story that gets a happy ending."
And wow, I don't know if I've ever heard him be this…eloquent? He must have been thinking about this ever since Widow tattled on me, and is taking it better a whole lot better than I did. It reminds of how Not Angry he was when he us in Giza, how no matter how well I think I have him figured out, he still surprises me. The claw on my arm feels better when I think about it like that. Almost comforting.
"We're not people who do this," he keeps going. "People who end up caring. People who stop our damn mission to make fucking…confessions." On the word I have to look away, my face getting warmer than it already is. "But we're going to see Doomfist any minute now, I have no idea how this is all going to go down. So screw confessions—but we have to admit that we're like this. We're weird and fucked up, and everything we do together is going to be weird and fucked up, so we might as well get over it."
I stop shifting on my feet nervously, and look up at him the way I did I saw him without the mask for the first time. It's him, same old Gabe, but even as something as a little acknowledgement can change everything.
When he lets go of my arm, the comfort is replaced by something else, a swelling feeling that makes my throat go dry. I don't know how Reaper's going to react when we get to the top of this place, not with so many emotions running high and surrounded by the organization he's devoted to life to for half a decade. But none of that matters right now. This is my team. I've chosen this.
It was one, stupid, impulsive decision that lead me down this road, and now I make another. I grab Reaper by the sides of his face and pull him down, aiming a kiss haphazardly on the mask. It's cold and solid but it's good, and it only takes Widow chuckling in my ear to know that it was the right thing to do. Reaper, for his part, is just stunned, and is right up until I let him go.
It might have been have been a perfect moment, something befitting what might be our last. But, unfortunately, I forgot to seal this morning, so when I pull back there's a bright purple lipstick stain on the side of his face.
The fear and the joy and the batshit insanity of the day bubbles up all at once, and I laugh so hard I cry.