"You know, this is the first time I've ever visited England."

It was her tone that disturbed Lena more than anything. She wasn't scared by the intruders in her home. She was not frightened by the fact that she was kneeling in the center of the room with her hands clasped to the back of her head, surrounded by shard of broken glass and darkened stains of blood, and had not moved for over an hour and a half. Nor was she scared by the two men armed to the teeth in weaponry, pointing guns directly at her, or the single soldier holding up the woman she loved in the corner of the room, as she wept silently and clutched her wounded shoulder. It was not the acts themselves were not terrifying, but rather the calmness in which they were committed. It was the way Reaper rummaged through their belongings, one arm forcefully wrapped around a still-twitching Angela, keeping her held close like a stray pet. It was the way Widowmaker leaned against the far wall, her arms crossed over her chest and an uninterested sneer glued to her face. It was the undoubted glee that was cast from Sombra's eyes as she rested comfortably on the sofa, holding a wine glass filled to the brim with lemonade in her slender, metallic fingers. It was the ease with which she spoke, ignoring the blood and tears surrounding her. And the hacker enjoyed herself, watching her helpless prey.

"I've been all over the world since partnering with Talon," Sombra stated proudly. "They carried me to Russia, Central America, East Asia, and beyond. Before then, I had never spent much of my time outside of Mexico. I assume you know what it's like to travel, being with Overwatch on so many years, right?"

Lena kept her head down in silence. Sombra rolled her eyes.

"You don't want to talk?" Sombra asked, her voice filled with false regret. "I mean, that's really not fair to me. I do all this work for you; I plant a tracker inside of your little time machine, I implant messages into the doctor's head to track her down, and hell, I even convinced the sniper not to shoot you directly in the head. All of that, but you still don't want to talk to me? Why not?" She peered over her shoulder, taking a brief, sideways glance at the redheaded woman bleeding in the corner. "It's because of her, isn't it? You don't feel comfortable talking to me as long as the guns are pointed at her. Would you be more open if I had the guards step out of the room?"

"Why do you want me to talk so badly?" Lena finally spoke up. She refused to meet Sombra's eyes, but she could still detect the subtle smile creeping across her face, the sing of a small yet significant victory.

"Well, two reasons primarily," Sombra said bluntly, leaning forwards and placing her wine glass on the coffee table. She stayed hunched over, focused on the captured woman before her, her hands clasped loosely together and her elbows resting upon her knees. "Reason one: I'm bored. I have to wait for my Talon soldiers to finish setting up on the other side of town, and Reaper and Widow aren't exactly great conversation pieces. And the other reason, to be completely truthful with you, is that I feel sorry."

"You don't look sorry," Lena said snidely. Sombra chuckled, her smile unwavering.

"Oh, but I am sorry," Sombra insisted. "And I'm not sarcastically sorry either. I'm not going to say something like, 'I'm sorry that you're such a loser,' or something stupid like that. No, no, no. I'm legitimately sorry… about what happened in New York." When Lena did not noticeably react, the hacker continued, her voice softer than before. "You know, it's kind of funny. Everywhere I look, I see your face. You are a hero, known worldwide for your courage and your kindness, and yet you chose to live here, head down in the busy streets, alone with someone nowhere near as special as you. I would have killed for that much fame when I was younger. My mother was a widowed alcoholic, and I was her little mistake, one of thousands in a land of peasants. All I wanted back then was for someone to know that I existed, for someone to say my name with the same admiration that they say yours. I guess I got what I wanted, but it isn't the same. 'Sombra' is an icon, but the real me… that's still just a name rotting on the streets of Mexico. Hell, I'm not even sure if I remember it anymore."

"What does this have to do with anything?" Lena asked in protest. Sombra sighed, her smile fading slightly.

"Sorry. I get distracted pretty easily," she explained. "I think that's why I use so many different screens at once. My brain just wanders from place-to-place. Anyway, we were talking about New York, correct? I wanted to apologize for what I did to you. I got distracted back then, too. I was having a difficult night, and I had so much pent-up anger, and I did some horrible things to you. It didn't hurt, did it? I mean, every time you reset, the pain went away."

"Does it matter?" Lena said with a sneer. "Does any of this matter? Do you honestly think I care about anything you have to say to me at this point?"

"I want you to care, Lena Oxton," Sombra said sincerely. "You don't understand. You're one of the good guys. Naïve, but good. We have found ourselves on the opposite side of a dangerous struggle, and I just want to make sure that when everything goes down, you come to realize that I'm one of the good guys, too."

"You tortured me," Lena said accusingly. "You killed me over, and over, and over again just for the fun of it. You've enslaved people, shot the woman I love, and have made my life a living hell for the past month. I don't give a damn how sorry you are. You are not a good guy."

Sombra shrugged. "Let me rephrase that: I'm not one of the bad guys. 'Good guy' might be a bit of a stretch, admittedly. But I am doing the right thing. The means are rough, but I promise you that the ends are more than worth it."

"What could possibly be worth all of this?"

"World peace?" Sombra suggested. "An end to the endless proxy wars carried out for reasons we don't understand? A place where no child would ever be forced to fight just for the right to survive? I can create a world where people are truly free, free from corrupt governments and shadowy organizations. I will take those in power—the ones who have been pulling humanity's strings for centuries—and I will cut them down to make paradise from their remains. Is that not worth it?"

"You're insane," Lena grunted. "You aren't freeing people. You're making them into your slaves."

"Good lord, you sound just like Widowmaker," Sombra said, rolling her eyes. "I tried explaining it to her as well. She wasn't interested either. I was hoping that maybe you would be different. Maybe a hero would understand why I must do this. But I guess I was wrong. You're just like all the others, so blind as to what goes on in the world, incapable of realizing you are being played like pieces in a game of chess."

"You don't know what you are talking about," Lena muttered forcefully. She clenched her jaw and leaned in closer to the hacker. The soldiers twitched with anticipation, but Sombra held them back with the wave of her hand.

"Don't I? Tell me: How many of your colleagues have you seen die right in front of your eyes? Ten, or twenty? Did any of them die for something they believed in? Or did they die following orders from someone they did not know, fighting a war they had no part in, to serve a purpose beyond their comprehension?"

"They fought and died because they wanted to make the world a better place," Lena insisted. "That's what you don't understand, what you will never understand. Overwatch didn't exist to serve an agenda, or fight someone else's battle. We didn't have a nation, or a flag to serve. It didn't matter if our goals aligned with those we didn't agree with. Our mission was to help people, regardless of the circumstances, because it was the right thing to do. I fought battles with good people, brave people, who sacrificed everything they had because of that goal. No, the world isn't perfect. Hell, it isn't even good. It's broken, and flawed, and ruined, but it's better, and it's better because of us. And it doesn't matter how much you hurt me, because I will keep fighting to make this world better, and to keep it safe from hypocrites like you."

There was a brief flare of anger behind Sombra's eyes, but she quickly brushed it aside, and put on a sly grin. "Oh, so I'm a hypocrite now, huh? Strong claim from a girl who can barely speak."

"Aren't you?" Lena said accusingly. "You say you hate it when people fight and die for something they don't believe in, but you still control people into doing what you tell them, right? Do the innocent know that they are being used as cannon fodder because of your insane conspiracies? Or what about the fact that for all your talk of freedom, you still expect these people to call you a goddess? You act like some grand ideologue, speaking of freeing yourself from tyranny and saving those who can't save themselves, but I see right through you. You climb over others to get to the top, and take pride in breaking down others along the way. You don't care about anyone other than yourself. So yes, you are a hypocrite, and a liar, willing to destroy the entire world just to make up for your own shitty childhood—"

Sombra harshly slapped Lena across the cheek, swatting her to the floor. The hand was heavy and left her cheek raw, as she let out a dry whimper of pain. Emily jumped back and cried out, only to be silenced with the press of a gun nozzle against her neck. Reaper reentered the room, Angela clawing at his massive hand wrapped around her shoulder. As Lena recovered, Sombra stood up, towering over the defenseless hero.

"Disrespectful little bitch," Sombra said through clenched teeth. Angela screamed in pain, desperately prying away at Reaper's fingers. Sombra groaned and pinched the bridge of her nose. "And what's her problem?"

"It's the injury to her head," Reaper said, his voice grave. "It's disrupting your control. She keeps slipping in and out of power."

"Dammit!" Sombra screamed, kicking the leg of the coffee table. "How many doses do I have to give her before she stops struggling?"

"No! No more!" Angela cried out in anguish, tears flowing freely down her cheeks. "I can't take any more of this. My head feels like it's going to split apart."

"Oh, will you just shut up already?" Sombra said bitterly. She strode over to the hall, where the mercenary waited with the doctor helplessly in his grasp. Sombra grabbed her cheeks in her claws, pinching them together as Angela released a pained gasp. "The only reason you are in any pain is because you keep resisting it. Let me take over, and it will stop."

"I won't… I won't let you…"

"For the love of God," Sombra said furiously. Without warning, she pulled out a submachine gun from beneath her long jacket, and shoved it into Angela's face. The doctor whimpered and pulled away, closing her eyes in a futile attempt to shut out the world around her. "You are becoming far more trouble than you are worth. I have no need for a woman who cannot serve her goddess properly. Would you prefer it if I just shot you right now and put you out of your misery?"

"N-no, please," Angela muttered, violently shaking her head back-and-forth. "It's… it's too much pain. I can't focus."

"Leave her alone!" Lena shouted, only to be silenced with a forceful kick to the gut. Sombra stood still, keeping her aim trained on the target, her hand unshaken.

"You need to get it together, doc," Sombra hissed. "Remember what your mission is. Remember who you serve, and the pain will stop. Who do you serve?"

"I… I serve…"

"Louder, dammit!" Sombra yelled. "Tell me who you serve, or I decorate the wall with your blood."

"You, my goddess!" Angela said hurriedly. "I… I serve you."

"And what is your mission?"

"To… save the world," Angela sighed. Her legs suddenly gave out, and she slumped to the floor, nearly dragging Reaper down with her. She breathed deeply, clutching her wounded head.

"There you go," Sombra said, relaxing her weapon. "Feel better?"

"Yes. Yes, it feels better," Angela said calmly. "The pain is… subsiding, I think."

"See. Was that really so hard?" Sombra knelt and lightly patted Angela on the head. "Now that you know who is in control, what are you and Reaper going to do when Overwatch shows up?"

Angela nodded solemnly. "Kill them all. Remove them from this world."

"Good, good," Sombra said, the joy steadily returning. She turned to the side, and pointed towards the center of the room. "Do you know who that is?"

"Lena Oxton. Codename: Tracer. Twenty-six years of age. Abilities: Self-temporal manipulation."

"And what do you think we should do to Miss Oxton?" Sombra asked with sinister delight. Struggling, Angela made her way to her feet, gently brushing Reaper's arm away. At Sombra's command, he released her, and the pair watched as the doctor traveled to the center room and squatted down before Lena, turning her head and glaring at her, carefully studying the woman's features. Lena trembled as Angela looked her over, unable to recognize her friend. She pleaded silently, but the blue eyes were not deterred from examining her like a freshly formed corpse.

"We should cut out her throat. Like the rest."

"Muy bien, doctora!" Sombra cheered. She waltzed over to her new pet, and leaned comfortably on her shoulder. "How would you like me to do it? A swift shot to the head? A knife to the stomach? Or maybe you would like to do it yourself? Or I could even wipe her girlfriend's mind and make her do it? Wouldn't that be something truly horrible!" Sombra beamed with delight, and snapped her fingers. "Oh, who am I kidding? We don't have to choose. If one way doesn't satisfy, I can just hit 'rewind' and we can do it again… and again… and again…"

Lena shuddered. The thoughts of the alleyway burned brightly in her mind, and her heart began to pound in her ears. The world startled to blur around her. She told herself it couldn't happen again. She didn't think she could live through another one of those incidents. But there was nothing she could do to fight back. She could run; she was fast, and if she got the jump on them, it was possible that she could escape the flat unscathed. But, she was in no condition to flee, and even if she was, leaving would certainly doom Emily. She was powerless, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up into a ball and wake up from the horrid nightmare surrounding her.

"My goddess, wait."

It was a small voice, erupting from the side of the room to which no one had paid much attention. When the focus of the room drifted to Widowmaker, she had not moved from her spot against the wall, nor had she looked up at the ensuing chaos, no had the grimace on her face changed to anything more pleasant. Despite her distance and her politeness, her tone was strict and focused.

"Do you have anything to add?" Sombra asked, a sly smile masking her blown temper.

"You should not harm the girl," Widowmaker said plainly. "You shouldn't let the doctor hurt her either. You both have more important things to worry about than torturing her again. Overwatch will be arriving shortly, and the doctor needs to get in position in the square. Meanwhile, you should probably get to the Shard. I'm sure your soldiers have finished clearing out the guards and civilians, and have set up on the observation deck. You wouldn't want to miss when your glorious dreams finally come true."

"Dammit, I forgot about that," Sombra moaned. "Distractions, distractions, distractions. Shame we didn't have more time. I guess I'll just have to do it the old-fashioned way."

"Actually, my goddess," Widowmaker added. "If I could make a suggestion—"

"Oh, let me guess," Sombra sighed, "you want to kill her?"

Widowmaker paused momentarily, before speaking more tepidly. "It's simply that I have no further use to you on this particular assignment. Why should you have to get your beautiful hands dirty when you have a hired gun at your service?"

Sombra passed a curious look at Lena, who waited with terrified impatience as the two women bickered over her life. It was difficult for her to even fathom what she was hearing; the sheer casualness of which they discussed ending her life was beyond her comprehension. "True. And?"

"And," Widowmaker said somewhat nervously, "I've hated that woman with a burning passion for years. If someone were to put a bullet in her head… it would only be justified that I was the one to do it."

Sombra chuckled wildly. "Well, at least you're honest," she declared. She casually tapped Angela on the shoulder, and waved Reaper towards her direction. The shadow and the doctor followed her obediently as she strolled happily towards the front door, a noticeable skip in her step. "The floor is all yours, chica! I expect to hear a progress report when you're all finished."

"Yes, my goddess," Widowmaker said with an affirmative nod.

"Well, then," Sombra said, opening the front door and placing one foot outside, "I'm afraid that's where I leave you, Miss Oxton. It's a shame we couldn't work things out between us. When we look back on this day in the history books, I hope they won't see you as an enemy."

"Can I just ask you one thing?" Lena said dryly, her back turned. "What exactly is your real name?"

"Oh, sweetie," the hacker said with a proud grin, "it's Sombra."

With a slam, they were gone, and Lena was alone. She had not noticed the silence, but without the hacker's excessive personality clogging the air, the dullness became almost palpable. The soldiers remained at the ready for any attack, and Emily had stifled her tears, holding up in the corner of the room, watching with horrid anticipation of what would come next. Widowmaker unglued herself to the wall, and marched across the room, each step emanating a metallic clang as her boot struck the floor.

"Amélie… don't—"

"Shut up," Widowmaker silenced her, marching past her target and coming to a stop in front of the terrified redhead. Emily looked up at her, lost and confused, and Widowmaker sighed heavily. "So, this is the girl. What's her name?"

Emily stammered. "My n-name is—"

"I'm not asking you," Widowmaker said with a sneer. "Tell me what her name is."

"Emily," Lena choked out. "Her name is Emily."

"Emily?" Widowmaker said with disgust. "I don't know why, but I expected… more. I did not think any human being could tolerate you for more than a couple of seconds, and yet whenever I thought of you and your home, I pictured someone at least remotely interesting standing beside you. But this girl… she's plain. Boring. Simple. I don't understand at all why you could find someone so incredibly dull to be worth attaching to for the rest of your life. What a waste of life."

Widowmaker removed the gun from her back and held it at her side. That was when it finally hit Lena: She was going to die. It was over. Sombra had beaten her. She had failed Overwatch. She had failed Angela. She had failed Emily, failed to keep her safe from harm, and now they were going to suffer for it. If she had been faster, if she had been stronger, if she hadn't let herself get hurt over and over again, then Emily would be safe. It was all her fault. The person she loved more than anything was going to die because of her, and there was nothing she could to do stop it. And as she started to sob, and the tears splashed down on the floor beneath her, she released one final, desperate, broken cry.

"Please… please don't hurt her…"

Widowmaker's face was unmoving as she turned around, and stared into the eyes of the damaged hero.

"Please, Amélie, I'm begging you," she wept. "Leave her alone. It's me you want, just me. Kill me. I'm the one that deserves it, not her."

Widowmaker took three steps forward, ushering the guards away. They cautiously stepped backwards she approached. Lena spilled over to the ground, crawling on her hands and knees to the assassin, who waited for her calmly and undisturbed.

"Would you really trade your life for hers?" the assassin asked coldly.

"Yes," stated Lena, unable to contain the sobs that rocked her body.

"Why?"

"Because she's a good person," cried Lena, "and she's sweet, and kind, and I love her and… and I don't want her to die… I don't want her to die…"

Lena shut her eyes, and she pressed her head to the floor, surrendering to fate. She knew, deep down, that it was pointless. Of course, Widowmaker wouldn't listen, or even care. But Lena did not do it for her. She did it for Emily, to let her know that she was sorry for everything, to promise her that she would make it up in the next life. She heard Emily scream, but it sounded a million miles away.

It didn't matter anyways.

The assassin raised her gun to her head, and lined up her shot. Point blank range. Impossible to miss. After years of chasing the prey, the spider had finally ensnared it in its web, and was ready to feed.

Widowmaker sighed. "I can't believe I'm about to do this."

Three shots, and then it was done. When a few moments passed, and Lena felt nothing, she opened her eyes, and immediately noticed the pools of dark red forming on the ground, and the bodies of three soldiers slumped over. The assassin stood alone amongst the bodies, smoke emerging from the tip of her rifle.

"I used to feel the same way about someone, too," Widowmaker said softly. "It's funny how those things work out."

Lena stared, wide-eyed at the carnage around her, struggling to get out more than a single word. "What… how did you—"

"Sombra is a smart girl," Widowmaker explained. "She discovered a way to alter physiology in order to control humans. Unfortunately for her, I haven't been human in a very long time."

Emily slowly rose to her feet and hurried over towards Lena, as the assassin walked casually towards the front door.

"You have your gear, correct?"

"Um… yes," Lena said, as Emily helped her up.

"Then hurry up and get ready," Widowmaker said sternly. "We're going to go save your stupid friends."