The research facility is larger in real life. I've only seen a small portion from the satellite images, but the rest is tucked safely within the mountain: secluded, out of view. It's had a long and rich history, starting with its creation by the Chinese government and prompt failure in terms of omnic research. After that, it drifted into the private sector and traded hands over and over, no one realizing the value of a totally isolated base for less-than-legal activities. That was, until it was acquired by Iris.

It's not owned by Iris of course—they're far, far too smart for that—but one of the dozen shell corporations that operate its menial activities. Maybe 'shell corporations' isn't a good descriptor either, since I'm sure that anyone who actually manages these places has no idea what's going on behind the scenes. Iris doesn't work from the top. They're a parasite.

"Is there a reason we're just standing around?" Reaper complains next to me. "Come on, or I'm going to freeze to death for real this time."

I watch him start toward the facility, trudging through the knee-deep snow. Pulling my scarf more firmly around myself, I shiver, the Himalayas taking a harsh bite out of my resolve.

That's not the only reason I'm jittery, though. Ever since Reaper stopped me in Giza a week ago, the strange support he and Widow have given me has been hard to manage. First off, because I'm still questioning Reaper's motives (I mean, do you really think this international terrorist is going to drop everything just to come on an extended espionage holiday with me? Not unless there's more going on here), and secondly because even if it is genuine, it's adding up to all the wrong intentions. I feel like I don't deserve it, like he and Widow should have just let me run and continued to hate me from afar. But they don't hate me. They've told me so in their own…unique ways.

The other day, when the convoy we'd paid to hitch a ride with lost its traction, Reaper's arm was across my chest before I could fall into the seat next to me. Before that, while in the cargo hold of the plane, I'd woken up from an uneasy nap to find Widowmaker's blanket draped around my shoulders.

I don't understand either of them. The way they're treating me may have been normal when we were all on a team together, but now that we're a couple of belligerently connected acquaintances, nothing seems to make sense anymore. Hell, I still don't even know why they're accompanying me here. (When we first set off I was too rattled to ask, and asking now would just be weird at this point.) Not that I'd get a straight answer anyway.

I usually give all my gift horses careful dental inspections, but this time, I'm just too tired.

Reaper's already made a nice trail to the facility by the time I follow him, taking the swath he's cut through the snow. At some point he turns around, and glares when he notices. "Really? That's why you've been stalling? Just to mooch off my slipstream?"

I smirk. "Hey, it's not like you're using it."

His implied eye roll briefly lifts my spirits, but other than that the banter feels…forced. It's too strange pretending nothing's happened. To distract myself, I look behind at Widowmaker, the assassin slowly trailing behind us. She's wearing a large, blue, puffy coat, one that seems to swallow her slim body whole. It's only being worn at Reaper's insistence, after a several minute altercation between the two of them.

I don't care if you can't feel anything, he'd huffed at the time. Just looking at you is making me cold. Put the damn thing on.

That had been the end of that. I'm glad it ended in Reaper's favor, and not only because Widow now looks like a very large blueberry.

The three of us make it to the indent in the mountain, where snow ends and concrete begins. After that, it's still farther until we touch against the first doors of Shíwǔ Gāo Research Center.

The locks are simple, decades out of date, and the mountains have loosened any physical barriers. Reaper breaks the second door with ease, wood splintering after being frozen for so long. It's a good thing this is only part of the façade (even super-secret bases need reception) since breaking something further in would probably result in a defensive shutdown.

"So…" Reaper says, turning in a careful circle to look at the arching concrete walls and minimalistic cubes that serve as the décor. "This is what you're looking for?"

"Dull right?" I ask. "Honestly I was expecting more monolithic screens and mustache twirling."

"Do you think this place will have answers?" Widowmaker cuts in, asking the same but more directly.

"I'm hoping." I step up to the first set of automatic doors, sliding in a universal keycard that shorts it out.

"Will we be facing any resistance?" Widowmaker idly taps against the assault rifle in her grip. It's not her gun, but it is a gun, one that will have to do until we can get another one up to her standards.

"This place hasn't been touched here in years," I tell her. Just then, we all hear a distant clattering, like a sheet of ice has finally decided to fall through the facility's roof. "…But you know the drill. Stay on your guard."

"I'm always on guard," she informs me. "I am so on my guard, I'm practically on your guard as well."

I help Reaper pry open the doors now that they're frozen shut, and shoot her a wry smile. "Thanks for that araña. Somebody has to."

The way she looks away like she's trying not to smile is awfully familiar. It curls a memory of a different mission, one identical to this one in every superficial sense; danger, a freezing building, and the great unknown of what we'd be facing. That time there hadn't been opposition, but that didn't mean the mission went smoothly—our extraction went down in a storm, leaving us stranded until Talon could send another helicopter.

It'd certainly been a unique experience, huddling together with a couple of murderers who, at the time, were less than friendly. But being trapped with them had taught me some things, that Reaper cracks his knuckles whenever he's anxious, and that Widow isn't nearly as immune to the cold as she pretends to be. The memory stings a little, reminding me what I've thrown away. Certainly they're being less-than-hostile to me now, but that doesn't mean all is forgiven. That, and the running fact that Reaper doesn't believe a word of what I say.

Deeper into the mountain, at least ten floors down, I find something. Reaper swings out of the nonfunctional elevator shaft to find me kneeling on the ground, an ancient disk drive in my hands, connected to something somewhere. I follow it, a single cord dipping beneath the floor, and when I tear away the tile it reveals the backplane.

"Jackpot," I hiss.

I knew if I came to someplace this rich with secrets, I'd be bound to find something left behind. Sure Iris is careful, but nobody's perfect, and it's harder to purge a whole facility than to fry a nineteen-year-old's hard drive.

My fingers flex, extracting data within seconds, the encryptions no match for the great and magnificent Sombra. A dozen images fly past and there's data, so much data, more than the average human can understand in the half-second they appear. There's so much. There must be something useful in here. I can feel it.

"Great," Reaper grunts. "I hope you found something that makes you happy."

I ignore him.

"Do you hear that?" Widow asks, pulling Reaper's attention from where he's watching me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see him glance around. "…Yeah. I do."

I hardly listen to them, watching as the backplane comes to life at my touch, purple lights flickering deep within. They blink, as though waking up after a long sleep.

"Sombra."

Bits and pieces flit my vision, and I try to comprehend them even though I know I can't. Something aches inside me, stronger than relief. Hope. Vindication.

"Sombra," Reaper growls. "The power's coming on…"

"I'm almost done…" I promise, barely aware as he's moving away into a darker corner of the room where a pair of shapes loom.

My concentration is divided between him and the hack in progress, the lights in the floor spreading like fire. It ignites one of the decorative cubes in front of him, coating it in an array of glowing seams.

"Sombra!"

"I know!" I shout as the room glows. "I'm almost d-"

At that instant, the backplane in front of me shorts, bursting into flames at the exact moment the cube in front of Reaper slams out a massive metal arm.

I leap back, sparks landing against my jacket, and Widow raises her gun at the omnic prying itself free from its dormant state. Another is already transforming out of hibernation, snapping upwards with a thunk and spinning its head to the three of us.

"Automated defenses!" I warn too late, as the second omnic raises its fist above Reaper.

One of Reaper's shotguns was knocked away in the fall, but the other is lifted and fires into the second omnic's chest. It shudders, and he staggers to his feet in a cloud of smoke before his first attacker can get the better of him. Widow showers both omnics with bullets and they fall down, sparking.

"Shit!" I say, as more lights course out of the room and down hallways, spreading like a disease.

"You just had to go poking, didn't you?" Reaper asks. He reaches down and retrieves his lost shotgun.

"Yes, I did actually," I fire back, but it's no time to be picking a fight. "They're going to be activating from everywhere! We need to get somewhere defensive."

"The first floor," Widow says immediately. "Plenty of vantage points."

I want to point out that it means less cover for us grounded folk, but we're on the clock and I don't have a better plan. Reaper nods, I sigh, and the distant banging of old metal prompts us into a run. We're up the elevator shaft in an instant, Reaper and I clinging to Widow as she repels us up to safety.

The whole shaft shakes, and we land back onto the first floor in a tangle of limbs. I'm up in a second, pulling Widow to her feet and whipping my head around for danger. No visuals, but the sound of hundred omnics activating rings clear through the base. We charge, retracing our steps so different by light, and I almost lead us wrong a few times as the sound of attack grows louder.

I pull my SMG, looking over my shoulder and shooting the team a grin. "Who's ready to have some fun?"

Reaper says, "This isn't what I'd call 'fun'," at the exact time Widow says, "Me."

He looks at her and shakes his head.

Then we're in the thick of it, whether we're ready or not. The omnics in the lobby have activated, and it's damn fucking genius to hide security drones inside innocuous feng shui. I mean, we didn't give all of these things a second thought, walking right past 'em! Now they're a bit harder not to notice, what with them shooting at us and all.

Some have rifles, others go straight for the punchy-punch, swinging giant fists if they manage to get within range. They're unlike any omnics I've ever seen, all with sharp edges leftover from their cube-geometry, and small heads that swivel like a ball joint.

"Good thing you short out just like any other," I say to one as I appear behind it and gun it down. "Otherwise I might actually be annoyed."

"Cut the chatter, Sombra!" Reaper blasts two drones, one with each arm. But he's yelling at no one, since I've already slipped away again, invisible.

The ranged drones fall as Widow and I pick them off one by one, the reception clearing by the minute. Despite his insistence that this isn't what he'd call fun, I can hear Reaper laughing darkly as he cuts through the mindless bots.

Iris may be smart, but their omnics sure aren't.

There's a brief reprieve, the three of us bending over our knees while we catch our breath in the cleared-out lobby. "Everyone still have all their limbs?" I ask, as cheerfully as I can manage.

"Widow's missing four of them," Reaper says, and it takes me a good six seconds before I realize holy fuck he's making a joke.

I snort with laughter, barely managing to snort out, "holy crap Gabe, did you just-?"

He shrugs. "I have, on occasion, been known to be 'funny'." I only laugh harder, and Widowmaker finally catches on with an offended uhg.

The windows surrounding the lobby rattle. We sober up.

"The rest of them will be here any minute," Reaper warns. "Are we leaving?"

The question wasn't exactly directed at me, but I can feel Widow's eyes as we wait for an answer.

"…There's going to be more information in this place. I can feel it." I hesitate. "Besides, we don't know for sure that they won't follow us out of the building, and we'll be in an even worse position if we do."

Reaper faces me, studying me for a moment, weighing the best course of action. Then he nods, drawing his guns again. "Alright ladies. Let's lock it down."

Somehow, him agreeing with me ignites a small ball of guilt in my chest. He's trusting me when maybe he shouldn't, when even I don't know if my judgment is skewed. Am I going to get the three of us killed over needless curiosity? Kicking the anthill and running isn't a better idea, we're going to have to deal with it anyway so-

I don't know what's logical and what's excuses, they all chase each other around in my mind, but a distant rumble means the time for decisions is up. Widow sheds her coat and hooks up to the concrete arches above us, and we prepare for the next wave.

A moment. A creaking moment where Reaper stands, I hide, and Widow aims-

And the elevator doors slam open.

Too bad these things can climb, otherwise we might have been saved a lot of trouble. As it stands, we're in a world of shit, more of the giant omnics clamoring up to face us than there should be. I eat shit when a fist accidentally catches my still-invisible body and flings me against a wall. Distantly, I can hear someone calling my name, but my ears are still ringing from the impact.

Then, a dozen robotic heads turn to me, and I mumble to myself, "mierda."

I roll, dodging another fist just in time, raising my arm in an attempt to hack my attacker. I'm too slow, and I'm forced to dodge again as a fist slams down.

For a second I'm worried that I'm not going to be able to get back on my feet, but Widow finally delivers on the cover fire and it's just enough time to slip away. Surviving the initial push is hardly something to be proud of though, when omnics are still pouring from the elevator.

A repeat of our first fight, Reaper does the heaviest lifting and a majority of the bots go down. Things turn quickly though when we hear a buzzing coming from the shaft.

"What is-?" Widow begins, but we have our answer.

Drones begin sweeping up and out, flying little omnics that look like mosquitoes if mosquitoes were the size of parakeets. I freak, batting one away before it brings its syringe-like face too close to my personhood.

More of the little cretins fly out, swarming us. Reaper is thankfully immune to the stabby bits, but I'm not so lucky. I hack a rifle-wielding omnic and gun down two more, only to feel a jab in my shoulder blade. The buzzers are weak, but sheer numbers grind us down, and even with how many I'm shooting I feel two more stabs before the fight is over.

I catch a glance of the swarm antagonizing Widow in the arches above, and try not to think about what these little shits are putting into us.

The waves keep coming. All floors converging on us when eventually…they start to slow. We thin them out little by little, leaving us looking like some awesome badasses that were able to weather the storm. As long as there aren't any more surprises. I hold my breath-

But the buzzers seem to be the last of what Shíwǔ Gāo has to offer. Reaper blasts the head off the only remaining omnic, and Widow finishes her long fought aerial battle. On my part, I lean on the reception desk and try to feel where the little bastard nicked my shoulder.

Reaper spots me. "Status, Sombra?" he grunts as he comes over.

"Four out of four limbs, sir," I report, rolling my arm to see if I can detect any pain. A sound of a grappling hook, and Widow descends gracefully next to me. "How about you, araña? Those things get you?"

"One," she says, indicating a spot just above her hip where her jacket is ripped. "Other than that, no losses."

"That's…good."

Is it just me, or is everything a little…slow? I don't know if it's from the buzzers or I'm having nocebo because I'm incorrectly attributing the exhaustion. Either way, it couldn't hurt to find out what those damn bugs were carrying.

"Let me check these babies out," I say, staggering over to one of the fallen omnics. I hope the soreness in my shoulder is just my imagination.

"What are you doing?" Reaper asks, hovering over.

"Analyzing."

I run a glove over the buzzer's face, its syringe smashed and coating the floor in some substance. I won't be able to do a full tox screen without the proper equipment, but I can at least determine if it's a threat.

A soft beep, and I sigh with relief. "Bad news: this stuff's an extremely potent nerve agent. Good news: it's like five years expired."

Reaper looks between me and Widow. "…So if poison expires, does it become more deadly or less?"

"Less," Widow says, ever the venom expert. "At most, Sombra and I are going to feel drained, her more than I."

Even as she says it, I feel lethargy sinking into my muscles, radiating from the points of impact. I sway and Widow slips an arm around my shoulders.

"Dammit," Reaper mutters, irritation masking concern. "Just fucking…sit down for a while. We can hole up here until it wears off."

We do. Or try to. We're starting to walk towards a pair of waiting chairs when suddenly the guiding weight on my shoulder becomes crushing. Suddenly, Widow's entire body is leaning on me, surprising us both. I try to catch us both, and fail miserably.

"Ugh, Widow, what the hell-?" I ask, trying to wiggle out from under her.

Reaper's over us faster than I can blink. "Sombra! I thought you said this shit wasn't dangerous!"

"It shouldn't be!" I feel mostly fine, but when I roll Widow off me, I can tell she definitely is not.

"I don't…" she mutters, beads of sweat rolling at her forehead, even in the freezing room.

"What the hell is wrong with her?" Reaper demands as I try to get her to the ground safely.

"I don't know, do I look like a doctor?" I prop Widow up. "It must be…damn it must have to do with her stupid heart thing." The heart thing, the brain thing…a lot of fucked up stuff Talon's put in her.

Widow, still lucid, looks up at us. "That is…not outside the realm of possibility."

"Dammit…" Reaper mutters, claw clutching the back of his hood.

Widow's condition significantly lowers her ability to take a hit, and if her whole cardiovascular system is messed up, there's no telling what a bit of poison can do.

"We need to take her somewhere," I speak faster than I can think. "A…a facility or something, someone who knows how to handle this." But Talon's gone, as is anyone who had experience with Widowmaker…and we're so far removed…

Reaper's just sitting there staring at Widow while she quietly mutters something. I don't know if she's actually talking to him, or if she's losing her grip.

"Gabe!" I snap at him. "Any ideas here would be appreciated!"

I think he's frozen. To me, he just looks like he's locked in place, not knowing how to respond to the look she's giving him. I'm about to yell at him again when he finally turns to me.

"I know somewhere we can take her."

"Well, where is it?" I say, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice.

Reaper's just sitting there, floundering as he's trying to resolve his inner conflict and pissing me off because Widow might be dying and all he can do is stall.

Then he coughs it up. "I have a fr…a guy who used to work for me. He lives around here."

At first I didn't know what he was talking about. My growing panic makes it hard for me to search through the mental catalogue of all of my coworkers' pasts.

"…You mean Shimada?"

"Yeah. Last I heard he was in Nepal. He's literally the closest person we have right now."

I look down at Widow, who still seems to be holding on to the conversation. She nods.

I ask, "Do you think he'll help?"

"Maybe. First I'll have to explain to him I'm alive, though."

I look between Widow and Reaper, and wish the toxin in my shoulder wouldn't make my brain so sluggish. But if we do nothing and Widow dies…

"Dammit. Make the call. Let's see if the cyborg picks up."