Things were coming undone.
Sombra rested her head back against where she sat in the dropship, running the rain out of her hair with her fingers and shaking tiny droplets off them onto the floor before looking down at them with a sigh. Fighting exhaustion as she tilted her head back up, she next raised her fingers over her implants, the slick cold at the surface just under her fingertips sitting in stark contrast to the gentle heat that radiated through her skull out from the strips of lavender-coloured metal. A long, busy night spent caught in a rainstorm was anything but her idea of a good time, so whatever means available to stave off the damp, miserable chill were gladly accepted with a drawn-out exhale.
Especially since the dull thud of boots on metal spoke to things far more unpleasant on their way.
She closed her eyes as Reaper and Widowmaker made their way up the gangplank, not bothering to watch as the latter limped in, rifle slung over her shoulder and with a slow trickle of blood trailing down her thigh and down her jumpsuit from a pair of bullet wounds, while the former scraped a clawed finger along his mask to feel where a long, thin fracture marked with chips around an eye and under the chin had been made as he glided past the assassin. Though the seat Sombra had curled up in was situated in a corner just next to the wall separating the cockpit from the main body, just out of reach of a dim light that shone down from the roof, it didn't take the effort needed to open her eyes again to figure that they were watching her through the dark veil or to pick up their usual wordless contempt. The easy option to have avoided it all by simply disappearing under her thermo-optic camouflage until it best suited her to return had been lost at that point, she knew, but if past experience dealing with a pair of angry, self-righteous killers had taught her anything, it was that it was nearly always more fun to get the teasing off to a running start.
After what had gone on that night, she looked forward to it.
A flippant smile crossed her face as Reaper drew up in front of her. "Rough night, Gabe?" she teased, being sure to use the kind of tone she knew enraged him.
The revenant, however, seemed to take no notice as he opened the door to the ship's cockpit and entered before closing it behind him with a lack of force that took Sombra enough off guard to open her eyes. Still though, the hacker's smile remained as she turned towards Widowmaker, seeing her cauterize and bandage her wounds with a first-aid kit. "Glad to see he's as cheerful as ever," Sombra said, continuing to mock. "I was beginning to think he was angry about something, but to be fair when isn't he?"
She chuckled as she shuffled closer to the assassin. "Though I bet this has to sting even worse for you, araña," she continued. "What was that story again, about spiders not feeling anything until they kill something? It sounds like a real tragedy, especially when their prey just slips through their web."
Like with Reaper though, Widowmaker seemed to refuse to pay the provocations being directed to her any mind, a distinct lack of action that again surprised Sombra, this time turning her smile to a frustrated pursing of lips as she shuffled back to her own seat. Alright then, the hacker thought as she rolled her eyes. Have it your way for now.
Again she curled back up in her seat, taking an angular position that draped one leg over the edge and kept the other half-folded while allowing her to use the wall behind the cockpit as a backrest as she called up a holoscreen and fiddled absent-mindedly with it. Looking up from it and past Widowmaker when the silence eventually got too boring offered a view of a line of shattered windows along the palace of Versailles, the last few drops of rain that still remained on them adding their shimmer under the moonlight. The job that had broken them though, alongside two hundred of the world's most powerful, famous, and influential Omnics and any chance of peace between their kind and humanity in the near future, was simply something Sombra smirked at. There were certainly things she hoped to get out of the night, but to her the dark deed Talon had sent the three of them - plus a now-dead squad of foot soldiers - to undertake was immaterial at best and a waste of time at worst.
And yet, it was also what unnerved her.
The door sliding back open and Reaper gliding back out through it returned Sombra's attention to her colleagues, striking a fresh spark in her smile. "Y'know, Gabe," she said, flipping back her hair. "the night's not over yet. I know a few nightclubs in town that could make even you smile." She stood up, resting her arm on the revenant's shoulder. "You up for blowing off this whole espectáculo de mierda and going out with a bang or two?"
Reaper, though, again barely seemed to acknowledge Sombra's existence, gliding off again without looking back and leaving her to nearly trip as his shoulder went out from under her arm. Catching herself, Sombra briefly considered following him to further egg on before fatigue, frustration, and the growing churning in her stomach made the decision to sit herself back down. "Okay, I get it," she said, masking everything under a laugh. "No fun for the fantasma enojado. It might cut into your brooding time. Besides, I'd probably end up stealing anyone that caught you or La Azul's eye."
The long pause that followed as Reaper nor Widowmaker still said anything while he took a seat next to her prompted Sombra to shuffle in their direction again, only stopping to briefly try to gleam whatever the two had started talking about to no avail before she got just within arm's reach. "Though really, and be honest with me here," she interrupted, leaning in and flashing a mischievous smile. "are either of you even... interested anymore, if you get what I'm saying? I mean, that's all your business and I'm the last person who'd have a problem with it, but something tells me there's someone out there for each of you who'd like to know, just for one reason or another."
When yet another deafening chorus of silence and inaction followed the most personal cards she had to play Sombra rolled her eyes, shuffled back to her seat, and loosened the tension in her shoulders as she rested her head on the back wall again, letting what was stirring inside of it out once more. "Okay, fine," she muttered, barely over her breath and while letting her eyes trail off in no particular direction. "Go with the silent treatment. Why should I care?"
Almost instantly after, the tense chill that came with the feeling of being watched returned, stopping the slow trip of Sombra's eyes around the bay in their tracks, and no sooner had her gaze frozen when she raised up another holo-screen, bringing it around as she curled back up and settled in and raising it to just below her eyes. Glancing up from it confirmed the reason for her uneasiness with each split second she did so: Widowmaker's dusty yellow eyes were sending their soulless, single-minded gaze out from over her shoulder, while the thin smile of a hunter who had their quarry in their sights crept along her face ever so slightly. On the other side of the assassin Reaper said something in a tone just below earshot, slipping his own look out from the empty black pits behind the eyes of his mask every so often as well.
Seeing it, Sombra's mouth went dry in an instant and her heartbeat raced. Well... mierda. They really mean it this time, she realized. They're actually going to try to do it.
But what scared her more than death, what had her wishing she had slipped away and gone clubbing like she'd thought to do, was that she knew exactly why.
Thinking about it only served to make her forcibly try not to gulp, but all the same it was impossible to put out of her mind; While the primary business of that night had turned out as planned, the pleasures of deaths beyond just that of politicians, celebrities, and corporate giants had been the true reward promised for her colleagues, and they had relished in getting the chance, much to her mockery. Again with Sombra's help, a half-dozen of Overwatch's finest that had planted themselves amongst the crowd in hopes of stopping the damage done had been caught in the open and off their guard, laid low so that Reaper and Widowmaker to do what they did best against those they hated most.
And similarly, it had been because of Sombra that Overwatch had escaped.
A grimace crossed her face as she shifted in her seat and fiddled more with the holo-screen. How the oversized monkey that headed the new team had overridden the EMP and reactivated what should've been completely deep-fried systems, let alone run interference strong enough to keep her from fixing it, was a question that played on an endless loop in Sombra's head, growing more sour with each repetition. Even worse was just how much stake the two obsessed freaks had apparently put on killing Overwatch at that exact time; even if they held grudges against five-sixths of the team present that night, she'd still sent in the two lunatic Junkers they'd hired as red herrings to help clean up the mess and had even personally pushed one of the Overwatch members off a roof. Even if the stupid EMP had been taken offline, it wasn't her fault that they'd decided to play with their food! They'd had every chance and they'd blown it, so why take their frustrations to a new level against her?
It had gone like this before, she thought, so why couldn't it now?
A scoff escaped between her teeth as the situation sunk in further; by this point, the revenant and the assassin both would have - should have - fallen hook, line, and sinker for her initial teases, beginning on some lecture about how this was all her fault and that she was reckless and unprofessional, making rhetorical demands to know why she hadn't followed orders and empty threats about what they'd do if it happened again, before escalating to the wrenching of collars and frothing snarls as her following jabs struck even deeper nerves. She'd seen it happen a hundred times before in the aftermath of success and failure alike, from the Sigma extraction to the Volskaya mission to even less than an hour ago, and in every instance the results had been as predictable as they were amusing.
But this time, they hadn't even taken the bait.
A chill crawled up Sombra's spine, sending out a shiver beyond just what a rain-soaked jacket and implants felt like. The fact that they were clearly giving her the silent treatment for allowing them to lose the opportunity of a lifetime, using a quiet ambivalence and dead silence to unnerve her and let her know she'd gone one jab too far, wasn't even the biggest problem. There was much more, she knew, to hacking than just computers, terrorism, or living weapons, of mass destruction or otherwise.
Not only could everything be hacked, but also everyone.
The only problem was that two of the deadliest living things on the planet, both refusing to let themselves be hacked and very, very irate, were sitting between her and the gangplank.
Without warning the squeal of a servomotor caught Sombra's ear, perking her head up as the bay door slowly closed before the sound was drowned out by the dropship's jet engines roaring to life. Watching as Reaper and Widowmaker fastened into their seats her mind raced with options: Despite her usual submachine gun at her side there was no way she could outfight either one of them, even injured as they were. She could've thrown her translocator out the door before it closed and used it to take off running, but they'd have been likely to skeet-shoot either it or her out of the air before she could escape. Going invisible before making her break would've stood more of a chance, but there was only one very obvious route to safety that both were skilled enough to predict even if they couldn't see her. A hack to frazzle their earpieces, seize up their weapons, or even shut down the dropship might have been another good distraction, but it would've burned away precious time that could've easily been made up by her pursuers and subsequently used to end such an attempt just as poorly.
But even if she'd tried any or all of the above, by the time Sombra took herself back out of her thoughts the door was closed, the last shimmers of moonlight on the shattered glass replaced with the blood-red glow of the lights above and fear's icy touch in her heart. They had her, and she knew it just as well as they did.
All that could be done was face what was to come head-on.
In the half-hour that followed until the dropship returned to base, no one said a word.
The metallic thud of its landing flinched Sombra out of one moment and into another, breaking her eyes out of a forward trance half-glazed over by fatigue and the dull of constant fear and sending them travelling around the bay in search of answers to where it had taken her before the door opened, revealing the hidden landing pad inside Talon's mountain complex outside Venice. How Reaper and Widowmaker let her get this far given their intention briefly crossed her mind as she watched the two get up from their seats, but it was another question swiftly answered when the realization penetrated through her anxiety and brought forth a deep sense of cruel irony.
Of course, she thought as she scoffed and brushed her hair back off her implants. Salt in the wound. Why am I not surprised?
As she stood up, a yawn crossed her lips that she drew out, turning it into stretching her arms, then her back, then getting distracted by more fiddling with a holo-screen before Reaper clearing his throat turned her back towards her two would-be murderers. At the same time, Widowmaker stooped to adjust the bandages on her leg, briefly looking up with an expression that couldn't be clearly read.
Sombra pursed her lips and rolled both eyes and shoulders alike as she made her way to them, mentally cursing herself for the display she'd put on and the desperation it reeked of. "Ladies first, or age before beauty?" she said as she slowed down upon reaching them.
Seeing that they refused to budge, she hid a sneer on the side of her face opposite to them. "You shouldn't have," she continued in lieu of their own response, her voice low as she continued forth and down the gangplank, crossing her left arm over her chest so that they wouldn't know about the flourish she made with her fingers until their earpieces screeched with feedback, making them both flinch.
Even so, though, the kick Sombra got out of messing with them further lasted barely long enough to be worthwhile. Where she was now as the metallic clang of her footsteps on the gangplank's metal was traded for the echoing tap of the mountain base's hangar floor and the red glow of the ship's lights faded into the glare of harsh white of the ones embedded in the mountain roof high above was a place with its own dangers, ones she was even less keen to deal with.
Dangers that found her all the same.
"I take it things did not go as planned?"
Sombra froze in her tracks as a familiar, deep, Nigerian-accented voice resonated in her eardrums, its mere sound a command for attention that all who heard it couldn't help but obey. Entering the hangar from a nearby door and closing inevitably, towering over the three others in the room regardless of the distance between them, was Akande Ogundimu - Doomfist the Successor, head of Talon's Inner Council, and a man known as many things by many people across the globe: Warrior, murderer, visionary, terrorist, crusader, madman. Each, all assembled in the room knew, were terms used with equal amounts of fear and respect, and every step he made in his continued approach towards the dropship was that of someone who not only knew this themselves, but took a sense of pride in it that, just like himself, was as brutal as it was eloquent.
To Sombra, though, he was something different: A problem that vexed her more than most. From the start since he had offered her a spot within Talon's ranks nearly a decade prior it had become transparently clear that he was hack-proof, a state that prompted the pursing of lips before they curled into a small-but-determined smile whenever she saw him. She'd always welcomed a challenge, but the game each had shared since then was much more subtle than what she played with his two glorified attack dogs, a mutual competition reaffirmed whenever they exchanged eye contact, even for so brief a moment as what transpired in the hangar as he continued his approach. There was little that she could do to care less about Doomfist's obsession with evolving the human race through war, just as she knew there was little he could do to care less about her usual blackmailing; neither were worth the concern when the risk of having her skull crushed in his hands, regardless of whether or not he bore his eponymous skyscraper-leveling gauntlet, hung over Sombra's head with each move she made.
Or when each move she made got her closer to finding just where he fit in a much bigger picture.
Doomfist spoke again as he stopped in front of Sombra and blocked her way, this time with a sharpened edge on his tone. "I believe I asked you a question."
Sombra panned her head lazily up at him and forced a flippant snicker, using it to swallow down the taste of venom in her mouth as she was confronted by exactly what she knew the two behind her had been waiting for the whole time. "We got it done," she said, forcing an incensed exhale out of her nose as what had to be paranoia swore she could just make out Reaper's sadistic, sandpaper-rough laugh behind her. "I've even got pictures. Care to see them, jefe?"
Doomfist's expression remained neutral as he drew closer still. "I was speaking to the commander of the mission," he replied.
In the instant she heard the words uttered Sombra's veneer of flippancy turned to the real thing, raising an eyebrow and folding an arm over her chest to prop the other up by the elbow as she turned to send a devious grin towards the revenant. The tables had turned, and she didn't want to miss a moment of it.
Doomfist, in turn, narrowed his eyes as he adjusted his own gaze. "Well?" he said.
At his side, Reaper's hand bound itself into a tight fist. "The primary objective was achieved," he growled. "The Omnics are dead."
"And Overwatch?"
The revenant's fist tightened further until it shook. "They got away."
Disappointment painted itself on Doomfist's expression as he rounded Sombra and approached both the revenant and the assassin. "That is... disappointing," he said. "The failure of the Null Sector attacks showed us that this new incarnation of Overwatch cannot be underestimated. Every chance that can be taken to thin their numbers must be," He stopped just to one side of the revenant and eyed him with a piercing stare as he adjusted his jacket, the expensive material straining under his grip. "and I would have thought you both would be the last ones to let such an opportunity as tonight pass."
Reaper met Doomfist's gaze with his own, a frothing rage beyond words radiating outward in a wordless, primal snarl as his fist tightened even more. "You have Sombra to thank for that," he hissed.
Doomfist next turned to Widowmaker, seeing her balancing on the tiptoes of her uninjured leg in a manner akin to a ballerina, her eyes closed and her body uncannily still. "Lacroix - mission report," he said. "Can you second Reyes' testimony?"
The assassin opened her eyes as she looked up to face him, dropping her stance as she did so. "I can," she purred, her voice low and void of emotion. "The mission was completed, but Overwatch forced our retreat." For a split second daggers in her eyes pierced past Doomfist and towards the hacker. "Sombra was waiting for us at the dropship, out of sight of the battle."
Doomfist peered over his shoulder at the hacker, raising an eyebrow as Sombra flashed a glib grin while calling forth a holographic collage of headlines that screamed bloody murder, holo-cam footage of once-jubilant crowds in Versailles and across the world turning to violent mobs in real time, and groups of greasy commentators pointing wild and outrageous fingers towards Overwatch and the Junkers alike. "Told you I got pictures," she said.
The raise of Doomfist's hand and the hint of satisfaction that crossed his face bade for Sombra to close the screens, to which she obliged as he spoke.
"Very well then. Nevertheless, despite these setbacks," he proclaimed, his eyes glinting with the same fearsome power that dripped from his voice. "we have achieved something truly great. Before tonight, the world had almost let itself believe the lies of progress that peace whispers to allow the weak to survive."
He circled around behind the revenant and the assassin as he continued, them and Sombra alike following his path until he stood in front of them all again. "But with this righteous deed, we have shown the masses the error of their ways, and must now be ready to fan these new flames of conflict and spread Talon's message to those that still defy the most fundamental truths of nature. With Overwatch incapacitated and their good will shattered, they will hide under the rocks like cockroaches. While they lick their wounds we shall move our pieces into place and take the next step, but first we must be prepared. Only then will the world finally understand the true value of strength."
As Doomfist's voice trailed off into echoes across the walls of the hangar an automated gurney whisked in before coming to a halt behind Widowmaker, waiting until she climbed on before floating off out the doorway. Reaper, in part, spared only a moment to send looks to the two who remained before, with similar silence and speed, dissipating into a cloud of black mist and following her through.
When Sombra tried to follow suit on her own two feet, however, she was stopped in her tracks by the hand Doomfist placed on her shoulder as she walked past. "Do not think that you are getting away unnoticed," he said, looking down upon her with a newfound sternness, digging his fingers through jacket and skin alike and pressing hard on her shoulder blade.
Sombra flicked at Doomfist's hand until he released her shoulder, allowing her to roll it to dull the pain of his hold on her as she swayed her hips to one side and returning a smile that hid her annoyance. "You know how it is, jefe," she cooed, twirling her hair with one finger. "They monologue, they torture, they get wrapped up in their vendettas, and when it's all said and done they end up killing more time than Overwatch."
"That may be true, but what Reyes and Lacroix don't do is take risks. Their window of opportunity would have been longer if you had not allowed it to close." His look hardened further as he turned towards her. "How was the ape able to get the better of you?"
The playfulness on Sombra's face melted away, allowing the sour feeling from before to furrow her brow and tense up the pain in her shoulders again. "I don't know," she spat, regarding back with inquiry in her eyes to match his own while a devious smirk reformed on her lips. "Anyways, you're one to talk."
Doomfist, in part, turned to face away and raised his hand, curling his fingers closed. "You surprise me, Sombra," he said. "After all this time, you still only consider your own goals and only see your place in the future, despite the failure it brought upon you in the past."
Slowly and in full view, he brought his hand from facing outwards to forwards in a fluid, twisting motion. "Perhaps Reyes and Lacroix are correct after all. Perhaps I should shorten your leash to make sure you don't make mistakes like this again."
In place of a verbal response Sombra scowled and rolled her eyes; even if it was normal for him to ignore her jabs, rubbing in her face when she'd discovered that she'd only scratched the surface was a crime that the desire to make him pay for boiled up a rage within her near enough to match Reaper's, but that she could better hide under a sarcasm-laced scoff as Doomfist turned back towards her.
"Nevertheless," he continued. "you are still needed. Lacroix and Reyes will be out of commission until O'Deorain can tend to them. For this next stage we will require another high-skill asset that can be put into play as soon as possible, and I leave it to you to find them."
"What about El Científico Loco? I thought you'd told Moira to patch up his brain for something."
"Which will come in due time," he answered, the sudden raise in his voice's volume emphasizing a point that didn't need words. "Until then, stay focused on your duties rather than those of others."
"Okay okay, fine," she replied, her smile and tone returning. "Don't worry. You know I'll get it done."
"I certainly hope so. Chances at redemption such as what you have been given only come once, if at all."
Doomfist again adjusted his jacket as he turned towards the doorway, stopping at its edge and looking back at Sombra to see her leaning against the closed door of the dropship, playing with another holo-screen she'd summoned.
"Remember," he called, his voice not needing a loud volume to cross the distance and get her attention. "there are always greater designs at work. Take care of them, or they will take care of you."
With that, the door slid shut behind him as he exited, leaving Sombra alone for the first time in a half-hour that might as well have been an eternity, the end of which forced out a tectonically slow breath under the release of its tension, deflating her down the cold metal of the dropship until she sat cross-legged on the floor and hung her head low, drooping her eyelids shut. "Fuck you," she mouthed out, frowning as the fatigue made its unwelcome return; dealing with Doomfist had ways of exhausting her like not even nights spent hacking, clubbing, or on missions ever could, and a future when the tables finally turned on him and she got to see where all his fancy, self-righteous, philosopher/warrior/tyrant mierda went when she was through with him was one she relished in the thought of.
But, she reminded herself as she opened her eyes, that was further down the road. Until she could make the world sing for her she would have to continue to stomach down Doomfist's own tune, both of which she could accomplish simply by doing what she did best.
Raising her head and brushing her implants off her hair she summoned another hologram and scrolled through comprehensive profiles of every single Omnic that had never made it out of the ballroom, moving through it with one hand while sifting through anything of worth with the other. Most prizes offered, she soon found, were common; Fat, easily-stolen bank accounts were always of use and plentiful among the list and so were swiped off into purple pixelated data cubes that shrank into thin air in the palm of her hand, as did records of business dealings between other, still-living sentients of influence that, while nothing special, served to strengthen old connections that could be of use going forward.
What would have been of far greater value, however, was nowhere to be found.
Sombra's brow furrowed as continued time spent perusing the list boiled up an irritation in her stomach until she swiped away the screens with a seethe and curled in, crossing her arms over her knees and resting her head on them. Joining Talon, she reminisced, had been a marriage of convenience, a way to make close friends who occupied the world's social, economic, and political ivory towers and make the world's elite, wealthy, and powerful dance on puppet strings while keeping an enemy that was at The Conspiracy's beck and call closer still, using their close links to the centre as a springboard to finally gain a hold of the greatest secret of all.
And yet, as she'd gotten closer and closer to the end of the road, fewer and fewer keys to unlock the gates blocking the way seemed to exist.
She shut her eyes again as the sting of the pain of old memories set in, hoping they wouldn't send her down paths towards feelings she'd sworn to avoid at all costs. La Conspiracion, the Devil in its deepest corner of Hell pulling the world's strings from the shadows, the eye that saw everything and had haunted her dreams ever since it had invaded her systems years prior, had been the work of one lifetime to uncover and another to recover, and while she'd done so for over a decade knowing it would be much harder than the first time she had never expected the trail to go so cold so close to the end. Vital leads drying up had been nothing new, but the disappointment compounded itself into rising fear when added with the string of dead ends she had gone down recently. Avenues that had held promise, such as Volskaya and Lumerico, had turned out to be further away from the centre of The Conspiracy than hoped, leading only to places that she'd long since treaded. In the life Sombra had chosen those who held all the information held all the cards, and with those in Talon who could take her on finally having enough of her it was only a matter of time before the window to obtain all the information finally slammed shut.
The only way to stop it was to find something, someone, to hack that could return her at long last to the eye of the world.
Again, Sombra sighed; The idea that people could be hacked just like technology was something that she knew better than anyone. The ability to predict, control, and manipulate had taken her more than one lifetime to master and had gained her information and power beyond reckoning, all the while keeping her alive in a Dangerous Game that could only be won by those who could use such skills in the most creative and ruthless ways. It was, however, a game she'd learned had to be played alone; the only way someone could be let in beyond her usual methods was if they were useful, but not able to know too much, a set of traits that had become rarer and rarer to find as the Game matured and both risk and reward alike heightened. By this point, each move had to count, lest the Devil send its Talon minions again to this time finally destroy her - slowly, intimately, and in every way it knew she feared.
She curled her arms over her torso as a light-headed sense of dread overtook her, raising her hand to catch the tears that welled up before they could run her mascara. She'd mocked Reaper and Widowmaker for how badly they'd wanted to kill Overwatch, but her own stake in the night had ironically been greater still; for her, failure threatened the loss of a design greater than anything Doomfist could ever have dreamed of, and the position it put her in as close as she had been such a long time left no place to hide, even under the veil of thermo-optic camouflage, from those she sought to alter the reality of and upend the world order they had built with destruction and chaos to equal what they had brought down on a scared, vulnerable little girl who'd promised never to let herself be hacked again.
Then, it hit her. Like a freight train going a hundred miles an hour it hit her, shaking her out of her malaise with the sudden violence of epiphany that surged adrenaline into her veins and blood to her extremities.
She knew just who to choose.
Opening her eyes wide and brushing the last of the raindrops out of her hair, Sombra called forth another hologram and flipped through the files of the dignitaries at the speed of a woman possessed in search of two names, one of whom had been represented at Versailles by one of the surviving guests, an old friend of hers that had served her well in the past. The other, while having not been present, was mentioned in the profile, a person that Sombra had heard of but never met before.
But what she'd heard made her seem exactly what Sombra needed.
Soon enough she finally found the file, swiping it onto another screen where it flourished into a plethora of photos, news clippings, and videos that served as a showcase for the people in question: A favela in Rio, an Omnic temple in India, and even vague links with the parts of Talon locked off even to her.
Parts that Sombra hoped, soon enough, would provide the key to unlocking everything she'd ever wanted.
She pinched two fingers together before bringing them apart, inflating the profiles to a larger size while closing the irrelevant ones that were still open. The name she had chosen, it read, was readily available and would suit perfectly for Doomfist's request, a combination that heightened the swelling sense of inspired joy that made her heart race.
The first was Vishkar, the guest's employer.
The second was said guest's direct subordinate and someone as unparalleled at altering reality as they were set in ways that made them a perfect target to hack: Satya Vaswani.
A wicked smile crept across Sombra's face and her eyes twinkled with promise, burning off what remained of her fatigue in an instant. This friend would be a project to work on, she knew, but if her instinct was right her last hope would be the one to redo things once and for all.
"Alright, Akande," she said to herself as she stood up and made for the doorway, storing the data in another pixelated cube that she spun on her fingers as she walked before snapping them shut like a trap. "Let the Games begin."