"How the fuck could you not tell me Doomfist is still out there?" I demand over Reaper's shoulder, gripping the back of the pilot's—now his—seat. He makes a show of putting a finger in the "ear" facing me.
The plane jostles slightly. There's no autopilot in Talon's crafts, and Reaper taking one hand off the rudder is enough to make the whole thing shudder, inadvertently punishing me for my back-seat-piloting.
"How did he even survive? Did he sneak out on a super-secret mission too?" I demand, but don't wait for a reply. "This could throw off everything. If he starts sending people after me that could put my investigation years behind schedule."
"Three ships full of foot soldiers," Reaper says snidely. "Poor you."
"Still doesn't explain how he got away."
"Well I'd love to have told you, but I guess I'm not in the habit of giving information to people who blow up my base."
The sudden change in his voice is almost scary, something it shouldn't be anymore now that I've learned how his bite compares to his bark. But I step to the side. He doesn't move though, and I'm left staring at the back of his chair.
"Besides," he says after a minute of nothing but the grind of the engine in the vacuum-sealed room, "when we first met up I was still on Talon's clock. Still…reading the atmosphere."
Well fuck, that certainly makes sense now that I know Talon's up and running. The pieces fall together, that old nightmare tap-dancing forward from the back of my mind: Reaper hunting us from the moment he'd gotten word, armed with Talon's apparently still sufficient resources. I should have known it wouldn't be that easy getting The Reaper's forgiveness-
But he still fought Talon. So then where does that put us? Obviously we're still on the same side for now but…he's not letting go of the fact that I almost murdered Widowmaker and the only other person he might consider a friend.
So he doesn't trust me. Maybe that's warranted, but I'm still going to be bitter about it.
"Why are we even heading back to Nepal?" I grumble, if only to be belligerent. "If this plane is tracked we'll be leading them right back to-" I cut just short of saying her. "…The temple."
"It's a known quantity," the voice drips out from behind the captain's seat.
I slump into one of the emergency boosters. "How's that going to help with anything?"
"Maybe if you stopped throwing a tantrum for five minutes, you might think to ask how did they find us in the first place?"
Mouth open, I pause, nothing intelligent about to come out.
Reaper stares at the ocean racing under us. "They knew exactly where we were. Where you were. A fully-outfitted Talon squadron doesn't just happen on their prime suspect in the middle of the sky."
I'm tired of feeling dumb, and wrest control over his train of thought. "And the only people who knew where we were…"
"Were back in Nepal," Reaper finishes.
"Are you saying someone sold us out?"
"I'm saying it's a possibility."
Unease grips me, and dozens of tiny cuttlefish eggs hatch in my stomach and spill into my body. When I thought we were walking through halls surrounded by possible enemies, I was more thinking in the abstract I'm a bad girl and everybody's against me sort of way, not that any one of those peaceful little monks might try to shank me. I pull out a stick of Juicy Fruit.
The ride back to the Himalayas takes infinitely longer than the trip out. By the time we get there, the floor is covered with little yellow boxes and I'm just about ready to rip out the flight controls and fling them out the window. Not that I show it. I'm a picture of cool.
"Don't land on the pad." My nails sink so hard into Reaper's chair I have to yank to get them out. "If we show up in a Talon craft there's going to be questions."
Reaper nods, setting us down on the cliffs outside the Shambali temple. The way inside is a trek, but we're good at this, and make out way in with discretion intact.
We split, me to find Widow and Reaper…well. He has his own way of getting intel.
Retracing my steps, I find where I last saw Widow, the heat lamps now casting a warm glow as the sun escapes over the mountain's edge, stone coming to life under orange fingers. My breath comes out slow when I see she's still where I left her, dressed now in clean robes, fingers trailing carelessly on the ground. Silently, I step over to her, placing her arm back across her chest.
"I did not realize you would be back so soon."
I jerk, getting off my knees and my hand twitching for my SMG. The reflex stops, but I still let my mind swing into full Analyze mode when I catch Zenyatta in front of me.
"Well I didn't realize you were still floatin' around," I say, trying to make my smile reach my eyes.
"I cannot venture too far," he says, nodding shallowly at the ball of nanotech. "Line of sight, you understand."
I most certainly do not, but I don't let that or the unease in my chest change my expression. The omnic's previously friendly demeanor seems unnerving now, and I was was better at reading omnic nonverbal cues. It's all bits and static, but with a proper tuning device you can just pick up what they think they can hide.
The Shambali have every reason to hate Widowmaker. To hate us. If one of them wanted to get even…
"I did not notice the temple's aircraft returning. Is everything well?"
"We ran into a teensy bit of trouble on the way out," I say. If he didn't already know. Does he? The way he just floats there, sandwiching me between him and his magic ball of death is setting off more warning flags by the second.
"Is that so?" His hands lay perfectly still in his lap. "I am sorry to hear that. I hope you and Gabriel Reyes were not harmed."
He looks unarmed. Looks. I don't know what other skills he might be hiding, and suddenly it strikes me very plainly that there's more to this omnic than just a doctor. I grin, teeth and all, and cock an eyebrow. "Of course," I wave a casual hand in the air, "after all, I'm sure you have no reason to want us to kick it."
"…" There. Silence. And then- "Ah. I see. You are referring to the fact that your friend killed my brother."
I narrow my eyes, attuning to the change in the room.
"I see my bluntness surprises you." His head follows me passively. "Yes, I have known that for quite some time now. Come. I feel as though we have much to discuss."
He turns, and begins floating to a step above the room, still within view of the sleeping assassin. This definitely has all the outward appearances of A Trap, but I'm not dumb enough to think that declining the offer is going to get me out of this. If Zenyatta really does have something in mind, he wouldn't hang it all on the unknown of me following him. I join him on the dais.
Zenyatta…pours us some tea? And not just me, but a small cup of the steaming green stuff for him as well, set down on a square table barely off the floor.
"These are Genji's," he explains, casting a hand over the set. "He comes to visit me here often, since I usually do not travel far. It is…a joke between us."
With that, he sits, sticking his legs underneath the table. I follow suit, my compliance carefully held and ready to be ripped away at any moment. For good measure, I stick a nail in the tea and run a quick tox screen.
"I shall start from the beginning. When Agent Widowmaker of Talon was brought to me, I recognized her from the reports on my brother's death. There are only so many humans that match her description." He holds his cup like he could take a drink if the whim so came to him. His lights meet my eyes. "If you are cautious of me because of this, it is not without basis. Upon seeing her for the first time, I wanted to kill her."
If I hadn't been strung as a bow, I might have dropped my drink. It's not in my nature to be quiet, but I struggle into it, not wanting to disturb what is turning out to be, I dare say some rather important information.
"Of course, I knew that was not the way. Revenge is not a path that can be walked without losing your way."
I smile pleasantly. "Heh. Well, you're better than most then."
He sets his cup down, gently turning it in a circle. For the first time, his attention seems to be somewhere else. "I do not think I am. Anger is natural. Pain is natural. It is only when we blindly act on these feelings that we define who we are."
"…And…" I try, "…You're not going to, then?"
A whirring noise. "No. I made a choice not to harm someone whose life has been entrusted to me. When she awakes, I hope she too will take the kinder path." He looks up at me again. "You three worked for Talon, did you not?"
I consider, chewing the inside of my cheek. But shit, if I'm this far in… "Yeah. We did."
"But no longer?"
I make sure to fit every genuine bit of frustration into my voice. "Yeah. Not anymore."
A nod. "As I thought. You seem very wary of us, friend of Gabriel Reyes. Genji and I were able to uncover much of what you have been hiding, and yet have still allowed you amnesty here among us. I hope that presents to you how your faith in us is handled."
I drink, because the analysis came back negative and the rolling in my stomach is finally starting to slow. Carefully, I ask, "So…only you and Genji know?"
"Indeed. Though if trouble arises with my brothers and sisters, I ask that you let me speak with them first."
Maybe having someone tell you they almost killed your best friend shouldn't make you trust them more, but it's hard not to respect someone who has life and death in their hands and still chooses mercy. And hey, most of my favorite people are murderers, so I'm really not one to split hairs over that anymore.
"It may be a little late for that," I admit. When he quirks his head in alarm, I push on. "Gabe and I only made it a few hours out before we were attacked. Talon forces. Very cranky."
"And you think someone here revealed your location?"
Giving an affirmative hmmm, I drink some more. The tea is surprisingly good.
Zenyatta is silent for a while, weighing what I've told him. Considering we seem to be making progress here, I really hope Reaper isn't running around busting heads without my supervision.
Eventually, Zenyatta lifts his chin, saying, "I do not think anyone here would willingly commune with an active terrorist organization. Why you were attacked, I cannot say, but…I may know something that could be of interest."
He rises, and I follow him back down to the ward (Not before draining my tea first, though). He guides me to Widow's head, where he stops. "While tending to her, I found something within her implants. The usual neuro-connectors, but also several different tracking devices located within her body. It occurs to me now that they may have been placed there without her knowledge."
From the word "tracking" my blood turns cold. A million and one superfluous requests flood my mind, all of them bad. Trackers. They could be tracing us here. But then why only now? I'm stuck on that thought until my eyes catch the small wooden table where Widow's personal things are neatly stacked, stepping up and grabbing the small cube Widow was so fond of toying with.
Her scrambler.
Zenyatta places his hands along her temples, fingers brushing against silver disks. "It does not answer your question, but it does deepen the mystery." He glances to where I'm staring at the cube, looking like I just found a viper underneath my doorstep. "Speaking of mysteries, I never did catch your name."
I blink at him. An omnic, and enemy. I run though my extensive list of fake names, trying to find on that would be appropriately disarming, before deciding fuck it.
"Sombra," I say. "And thanks Sparky. For what you're doing."
"Do not thank me yet, Sombra. I believe our troubles are only just beginning."
Zenyatta won't let me scrub her. I need to purge the tracking devices from her systems, but he's insistent that she's had enough people operating on her body without her consent. He won't budge, so I'm left to wander the halls of Nepal, grabbing at the edges of a theory and trying to put it all together.
The scrambler balls tightly in my fist, half forgotten, as I figure everything that's gotten us here. I have an idea, but I want to be sure, want to be right, because if I'm missing some stupid obvious detail then things might be even worse than I thought.
My hypothesis solidifies, and I arrive at my decision. It's a good thing too, because at that moment I also arrive at Reaper.
"Uff," he hisses, which he has no right to since I'm the one who got thrown to the floor.
"I really gotta stop doing that," I mutter as I rub my ass and get to my feet.
"Sombra." He's all business. "What's your status? Did you locate Widowmaker?"
"Yeah, um..." I don't feel good about how this conversation is about to go. "About that. Can I talk to you for a minute?" My voice is much higher than it should be, and he notices. Still, he lets me drag him aside, spilling out into an open balcony as the village glitters under us. "It's not any of the monks. Hold on to your feathers cárabo, 'cuz it's both better and a lot uglier."
I fill him in on what Zenyatta told me, showing the little grey cube that'd accidently been saving our lives over the past few weeks.
"-And it's only ever been off for a few minutes at most," I finish. "That's why they weren't able to find her. Why youweren't able to find her."
"I didn't know anything about this," he snaps, mistaking my assurance for an accusation. Unfortunately, I believe him. I'd been half-hoping that once I jogged his memory he'd come clean about the whole thing and it'd be mystery solved, but no, I'm never that lucky.
"I know boss." It's a testament to how bad things are that my voice is monotone. "But we still have a problem here."
He shakes his head. "I don't get it. If she was the one with trackers, why did they find us instead of coming here?"
I roll my shoulders. I'd hoped I could do this the easy way, approaching the subject as subtly as possible by starting with the scrambler. But he's not getting it, and I bite the inside of my cheek.
"Gabe." He seethes. Okay, bad start. "Gabe, the trackers were in her implants. Things Talon gave to her." He stares at me, the get on with it felt and not heard, which pisses me off since I'm trying to do this for his sake. "…And there's one other person I know with Talon implants."
The mask is burnt orange in the light of the heatlamps, concealing shock as the realization sinks in. "Sombra, you better not be-"
"The scrambler only has a certain range," I cut him off. "If there were trackers on you too, that signal would have started broadcasting loud and clear as soon as we left the temple."
I hold my breath. This is why I needed to be sure before I acted on my hunch, because although I figured it out, it's going to be a lot more painful for him to arrive at the same conclusion. He was supposed to be Talon leadership for Christ's sake! Above all their bullshit. Where Widow and I were constantly under threat of being deemed disposable, Reaper was always there to mitigate our mistakes. If even he's just another cog in their machine then…
"Shit," he hisses.
"I don't know for sure," I tell him. "But I can check. And if I find anything then…well. I'll take care of it."
The mask glares at me. It's a lot: one to believe me that he might be bugged, another to allow me to fiddle around with his insides when I'm the last person he should trust. I hold my breath, waiting to see whether my fly-by-night-ness outweighs Talon's.
But finally, Reaper sighs, his fists unclenching as he resigns himself to the humiliation. "Fine. Let's just…Can we…?"
"C'mon."
I lead him through the temple, finally stumbling on someplace secluded enough that I can assemble what I need for a purge. The Shambali aren't really big on the whole "privacy" thing, with nothing but open arches and tile floors even in the deadass of winter. But the small sitting room will do, mats and scented oils perfect for calming down a very agitated man.
He hesitates. I don't know if it's because he's not used to taking his armor off or if it's because he's afraid of what we'll find. Either way, it takes me a minute to get all my tools in order, and I go as slowly as I can for his sake.
He doesn't seem any more at ease by the time I'm ready. I pat the cloth-covered floor in front of me.
Reaper grunts, but starts slowly pulling off his armour piece by piece. I'm surprised, and I fiddle with the pair of pliers in front of me. Maybe I expected it to be harder? After all, I don't think he's taken the full thing off all at once since the pain began. I do my best not to stare, and fail. The rest of him is sort of like his face—distorted and constantly moving, little bits in places they maybe shouldn't be. But sometimes it's calm, and I can just start to see where the shape of normal skin used to be.
But before long he's ready, in some sort of undershirt and shorts, though it's hard to tell where fabric begins and he ends. Pretending like I'm not averting my eyes, I start with the braces themselves. Knee, then back, then ankle. He grunts as I pick the first one up and haul it into my lap. I wonder if he's hurting without it. Probably.
After the braces it's the implants, the places where the tech fit snugly into his body. It's a miracle of modern medical technology that they can last with the slimy stew of his body coursing around them, but I don't take the time to marvel. I don't think it'd be appropriate considering what we're doing here.
I don't betray myself as I work, wanting to save it until the end when I can make an accurate report but…
I find them. And not just trackers, but control devices: nano-shockers, hormone suppressors…things I'd expect to be jammed in Widow's body.
"Something's wrong, isn't it?"
My hand is against his shoulder blade, and I jerk a little at his voice. I'm a bit ashamed I'm so obvious he can tell even with his back turned. I withdraw my hand and—maybe it's conscious maybe it's not—he tenses at the loss. Hesitantly, I place it back, and he relaxes.
The rest of the scrub is like that, me gently half touching, half rubbing Reaper's back until I'm sure every inch of his tech is clean of Talon. When I finish, I set the extra pieces aside and give him my report in a low voice.
"Shit," he repeats, and I agree with the sentiment.
"Do you…" I don't really know how to handle this situation. Emotions are a lot easier when you're faking them. "Do you want to talk?"
He grunts. Then shifts so we're sitting side by side, casting a reluctant glance at his pile of armor.
"Not about this." His voice is pained, and I catch him eyeing the braces. The effort of existing without them for the past hour must have been hell if he's worn down enough to let me see.
"You can put it back on now," I assure him. "It's all clean."
But he shakes his head anyway. "Not…not right now."
"Okay."
I don't know what to do now. I've just reached the extent of my skills, and comforting undead ghosts isn't part of my usual job description. But I remember the slight easing when I touched his back, and think hey, can't hurt to try again. Hesitantly, I reach out, settling on taking the hand closest to me and giving a slight squeeze.
A billow of smoke rolls off him as he sighs. I let him sit against me in silence and try not to let our shitty situation cave in. Thankfully, Reaper was lying about not having more to say on the subject.
"He didn't tell me. Even when we were the only two people left he didn't tell me a goddamned thing." I know who he's talking about now. "When I finally met up with him, he told me what you'd done and…shit, I was so ready to believe him." He blinks at me slowly, half paying attention. For a second, I swear he had two sets of pupils. "He wants you dead, you know. Badly."
"He can join the club," I shrug. Something about the lack of mask changes Reaper's voice. Not just so it's no longer muffled, but it's looser now, not the stiff emo-ness I've come to know.
"Oh I'm sure he'd love to." There's almost a joke in there. "But I haven't had contact with him since Giza. I figured if Widow was still alive, then I wanted to hear your side of the story first."
"Thanks for that Gabe. I always love having the chance to talk my way out of things."
He smiles. It's frightening almost, seeing a smile I've known was happening, but never had to actually confront before. It splits his face, a cruel parody of what a person's amusement should look like.
"Doomfist was the closest thing to a code of ethics Talon had," Reaper goes on. "He knew about Widow. That she was changing. Not back into what she was before but…" He clears his throat. "She's been gaining attachments."
That much I'd guessed, but it's different having Reaper confirm my suspicions. "And he was alright with that?"
"…No. Not alright." Reaper flexes his hands, something he'd do like he's missing his claws. "He was going to keep quiet about it to the rest of the counsel, but he wanted us to fix it. That's when Widow and I started planning to skip town."
"Didn't you say last week that planning was a strong word?" I raise an eyebrow at him. "You weren't lying to me, were you Gabe?"
"Pot, this is kettle. Kettle, this is pot." I chuckle, and he smiles again as he turns his head forward. Still, he shoots me a look out the corner of his eye. "You know, Widow wanted to include you in that little scheme at first."
A flutter of surprise washes over me, but I hide it with a curious, "'At first?'"
"I was in the process of talking her out of it," Reaper says. "We were getting close to picking a solid date, when you expedited that process for us."
I look away sheepishly. "Right. Sorry again."
For the first time, my apology isn't met with a sharp glare and the silent treatment. Reaper just looks at me sadly and says, "I'm not the one you need to be worried about, Sombra." He closes his eyes and says, "we all have a lot to make up for."
I tighten my grip around his hand. It's odd, trying to hold something that's simultaneously trying to wiggle from your grasp but isn't quite solid. And yet, just like everything I've done with this team, I manage.
