Chapter 4:

Rewind:

The Black Citadel,

"Rytlock. Rytlock. Hey, Rytlock!'

Pliskin exclaimed, peeking under the soapbox into his holding cell. Rytlock's cell was a rudimentary one at best, something fit for a simple grunt or even worse a lowly gladium; this had to be humiliating and damaging to Rytlock at the same time, a Tribune, reduced to nothing. It was shaped like one from the West Indies, an enlarged jib cage.

"What now? They'll notice you!"

Rytlock whispered, trying to keep his voice down.

"I'm gonna rescue you!"

"That ain't gonna happen, the grunts will be back, but I have a plan."

"Rytlock, I swear, I can't fight for you, It just doesn't work like that; besides Reinhardt and everyone else I know who could last in an arena are either working or doing something important."

"You're right Pliskin, but, have you considered dueling?"

Rytlock interjected.

"No. Rytlock, please, I am not going to shoot someone out of context for one's personal honor. This isn't Kalimdor, Tamriel, or the Eastern Kingdoms. This is putting someone's life on the line."

Pliskin responded, whispering at him.

"Pliskin, they're gonna execute me for dissertation. I can't demand a trial by combat, Phoenix Wright ain't here to help me. I can only duel my way out and I can't officially challenge Bangar. You can, however; what are you know, Second Lieutenant-?

"First actually."

"Well, Major is essentially a Tribune here, an Imperator, Colonel I believe. so I think you can challenge him."

Rytlock said.

"Rytlock, I've known you since I was thirteen and living on the streets of Lion's Arch. You allowed me to join you and Destiny's Edge to travel the world, and I never repaid you anything in return, but now is an exception."

"I've always refused the practice, but the only thing that is making me duel is my gratitude and friendship with you. So I'll do it."

Pliskin whispered, pulling out his pistol and handing it to Rytlock.

"Deal?"

"Deal. Now go, before they get to you, I'll inform you when I've challenged Bangar."

The 19-year-old sprinted off upstairs, throwing the box in a corner. He left the Citadel and made off for Hero's Canton, one of the only places he could actually get a room at. He showed a charr his ID and made off in a small room, decorated with gears, portraits, and relics of a time long gone. He fell on the bed, exhausted over that conversation and the time he spent waiting for Rytlock.

"Wonder what Sly, Reinhardt, and Nate are up to now…"


Pliskin thought, looking up at the steel plated ceiling above him.

San Fransisco,

Haight-Ashbury

"Play the tape again."

Steve commanded, pointing at the surveillance cameras.

The team had arrived at San Francisco following the worldwide hackings earlier that day. They were receiving more reports that Tokyo, Numbani, San Antonio, and Stuttgart got shut down in the past nine hours since they left.

"Cap, there's nothing here. All we see is the same footage of this place in Chinatown cutting to black then jumping to the live feed."

"Snake, you haven't seen the full thing yet. Play it again."

The tape constantly rewound in constant motion, playing footage of a man walking, stopping, the camera cutting to black, and displaying the live recording. It was a basement in an Assassin's House, the Assassin only 17-year-old that had worked with Pliskin during his horrible high school years after he went back to Earth. His parents didn't know that an entire family was living in the cellar, only being fooled into believing that they were here for a project while they were on vacation in Seattle. School for him was not a far sight away, he'd already gotten a job at a pharmacy, dropped out of high school, and got himself an associate's degree and today he was at work.

"See that right there?"

Steve pointed at the screen.

"No."

"It's a person, holding a detonator."

He replied.

The screen showed a man, walking briskly with something in his hand; pressing causing the screen to apparently turn black. The two inspected the screen closer, trying to find every bit of detail hidden within the footage.

"Isn't that Pliskin's old apartment?"

Snake inquired.

Steve rewound the tape for a final time, observing the background.

He pointed at the far right of the screen, gesturing to the sign that was faintly visible.

"That's Pliskin's old apartment; It still is abandoned, he left it exactly like that after the first Legion Invasion of Earth."

"You don't say?"

Snake sarcastically responded.

Pliskin's new apartment was in New York City, the closest place to Cornell that he could convince his adoptive parents, both of which are dead. It was larger than the one in San Fransisco, a two bedroom instead of one small studio. The old place contained a rudimentary office; the desk, situated in the center of the studio. The wall was decorated with old posters of Overwatch and filled with pictures of various places in Azeroth; King's Landing, Stormwind, Orgrimmar, the Imperial City, and plenty of others. In comparison to his residence on the 9th and 57th of Midtown West; his apartment on the corner of Columbus and Pacific was a mess in the eyes of Nathan Drake, Sly Cooper, and one of Pliskin's closest friends, Reinhardt Wilhelm.

The trio had just come back from getting groceries at a local grocery from the piers; instead of heading to the trimmings of Chinatown as a result of Nate receiving a Codec call from Snake, informing the three of them about their new findings. The crusader was able to get into his apartment through the help of a special a key the kid had specifically given him along with Rytlock, Sly, and Khadgar; the secondary person having lost his key during an escapede in Rio. What the three of them saw was an incredible mess; anything a tactical spy would ever have.

"Vell, it would be a long time since I've ever been in here."

Reinhardt muttered to himself, wandering around the studio.

They were on the third floor of the complex; a less expensive venture than moving up on the remaining two floors. It was around eight, the blood red sun already dripping on the horizon, the moon rising to wash away the blood. In their heads, the trio knew that each of them had to finish their business here as quick as possible, for the landlord was to report anything suspicious in the darkened hallways.

"Hang on, are these pictures?"

Nate asked, pulling one off of the gray studio wall.

A collage of photographs dotted the left wall of the studio. There were photographs of his time in Overwatch, him and Reinhardt messing around in the mess hall, Fox and Wolf training together, Nate and Sully fixing London's plane, it was filled with treasured memories from Pliskin's past.

"I know he had something he vas hiding 'round here…"

"Reinhardt, are you sure? You know an awful lot of Pliskin's apartment, have you been here?"

Sly responded, pulling a picture of him and Arno Dorian at one of the Watchpoints.

"I dunno, he only gave me a key to this place, however, it seems like someone was here before, the papers say so itself…"

The papers were particularly arranged so that it would appear if the room was ordered at a certain time. Some of them contained notices about Overwatch's closure, S.H.I.E.L.D.S' destruction, his orders for following destruction protocol.

"Vait, I think I know where this is leading us."

"Reinhardt, someone must have investigated this place before us, the way everything is arranged, just gives me the creeps."

Nate said, shutting an empty cabinet.

Reinhardt read the instructions on the protocol paper;

"-Apartment should be stocked with a stor-"

The only words he could make out of the paper.

"I have a feeling…"

The crusader walked to the bed, then pivoted around. The closet held an inconspicuous look to it, a poor attempt to dissuade intruders to this dwelling.

"I should have known about zhis. Why didn't I get one in my wohnung in Stuttgart…"

Reinhardt opened the double doors to the solid black oak doors. He found the closet was empty, a perfect indicator that something was not correct in this setup.

"Aha! I know exactly what to do, a false wall!"

Reinhardt shouted, the duo jolted away at the sudden noise.

He pushed against the back of the closet. Requiring very few energy, he was able to lift the panel and set it to the side, an entire room set into the corner of the building. It was a saferoom, filled with ammo, guns, and supplies, all effects from S.H.I.E.L.D. and Overwatch before it was reformed. Reinhardt hand to literally crawl into the the 14 by 14 feet room, Nate and Sly following him. Sly picked up a MP5, aiming down the metal sights of the submachine gun.

"How do you think Pliskin aquired so many guns and ammo as well? And maps?"

Nate inquired as he picked up a map of San Francisco.

There were multiple locations dotted on that map, each circled with a red ink to designate important locales according to Pliskin. Coit Tower, Grace Cathedral, City Hall, Union Square, the Embarcadero; these specific locations were all in one connected line, forming a triangle like shape. Nate began to trace the locations; one by one he lined them up in order from the northern most to the southernmost.

"Bingo. Hey guys!"

Nate called out.

"I just realized, all of these locations; once you list them in order, then trace 'em from northernmost to southernmost, it forms a lightning bolt-"

"So what does that have to do with anything?"

"Oh so you don't want to know how if you then draw a straight line from San Fran city hall you reach the Twin Peaks-"

Nate sarcastically coughed quickly, pushing the map off the table in the dimly lit room.

"What I mean is that the trail leads to a good vantage poin-".

"He must have been hunting for something. I think this note explains everything."

Reinhardt interrupted.

The note appeared faded, thought it was dated only a year ago. The contents were very precise yet the main message spelled out,

"CALL FOR S.H.I.E.L.D REMENANTS. BIG NEWS AHE."

The message on the back contained a strange encrypted message,

"YJXOJM

EJIZN

IZR

WMDOVDI

XJIIZXODXPO

YJMVYJ."

"This is gibberish,"

Reinhardt remarked.

"Alright, let me have a go,"

Nate demanded, receiving the paper.

"Well, someone get Q because I don't know crap about this."

"I wish Bentley or possibly Elliot was still around, they've run underground after Moscow."

"Well Sly, Q is the only one available to us at this time, hopefully we can send the message through him without the email being compromised…"


Tokyo,

The impressive sight of Mount Fuji was the first glimpse of Tokyo when he arrived, courtesy of a Mage located near Hero's Canton. It was already nightfall, the glare of the city roared the word sleepless into his mind. Pliskin was on top of the Tokyo Tower; the location of one of the mage portals into Azeroth in Tokyo. It wasn't busy as usual, according to Pliskin; on a normal day, there would be multitudes of Night Elves, Charr, Orcs, traveling citizens of Arda and Stormwind, hustling and shuffling between the worlds.

The boy took an elevator downstairs, then passing through the lobby of the tower. He entered the chaotic night life of downtown Tokyo. Pliskin vaguely recalled the trip he and Logan took to Japan a few months back after Berlin. He had already called Mariko to reserve him a space at a hotel ran by the late Yashida, the former CEO of a technology conglomerate headquartered in the city. He was here for a reason though, a very unconventional one at best. Natasha Romanoff, the Black Widow was currently performing operations in Japan on behalf of the X-Men and Pliskin needed her assistance.

Natasha was a master a dueling, having taught Alex, Laurens, and James Bond the skill that "gentlemen" would have preferred in the 1800's. Now the skill of dueling was now widespread throughout the world; however, a much more illegal practice of dueling was resurging, the art of the pistol duel. Dueling by pistols, the one governed by a code long ago was made illegal throughout the galaxy, instead more different forms rose in its stead, the one commonplace between disagreeing mercenaries or two rival soldiers. The town of Goldshire or the gates of Orgimmar were the place to see one of these duels, often gathering attention from lords and ladies in need of a merc.

However, he didn't challenge Bangar to that type of duel as the other imperators believed. It was to be until both parties yielded, and that often meant death. He was walking the streets alone, even in the cool air of fall. Not many people pointed their eyes or made gestures at him, partly due to his mixed heritage as an Asian-European which led many people to either distinguish him as an Englishman or a Canadian, however in part to Pliskin's facial features, his jet black and brownish hair and dark hazel eyes clearly made him an Asian. It was a vague memory that got to Pliskin, remembering the path he took with the Wolverine during the trip, it seemed to him that he was walking the exact same road filled with street vendors and the scent of fish.

What he didn't know was that Natasha herself was infiltrating Pliskin's hotel in search of files regarding the late CEO and his involvement with cyber embezzlement. Before Pliskin was at the hotel, she had arrived an hour prior to the boy arriving back on Earth. She had made a mess of the lobby, knocking out several Yashida goons before ascending nearly 40 floors as Pliskin viewed it.

Pliskin hastily checked in, as he was only staying in for one night only. Conveniently, his room was also on the 40th floor. The elevator was locked in one color, a gold yellow before it ascended. The elevator began to switch colors, producing a vibrant rainbow of colors, jumping from green, to blue, to a red before arriving at the 40th floor.

"Room 4008."

Pliskin muttered to himself.

He heard a loud thud as if something with a large mass had fallen. Pliskin pulled out his firearm, a 38H, in response to the noise. There was only one hallway as he exited the elevator. The lights were equally as vibrant as the ones in the elevator as Pliskin progressed through the hallway. He heard another thud, equally unsettling as the first one. The noise was near. It had to be coming from one of these suites. He walked silently through the corridor, his gun in the air, prepared to fire a warning shot.

Again there was another thud. It came directly from his right, near the end of the corridor. It was in room 4007, the last room before the end of the hallway, room 4008. He aimed his firearm at the door lock, prepared to fire at the mechanism. His hands were on the trigger, albeit a very unsteady grip on the gun. The door opened.

"Natasha, you're here? At this hotel?"

Pliskin asked, confused.

"Didn't you get the memo? Tokyo. Yashida Industries? Sombra? Does any of that bring up anything in the last 48 hours?"

Natasha responded.

Pliskin lowered his weapon, holstering it on a leg holster near the top of his jump boot. He saw three men, all business attire on the white carper floor, dead perhaps. There was broken glass everywhere, flowers from a porcelain vase were wet on the floor near the window.

"I see you've been busy."

"Yeah well it's all part of my night job."

"What is your day job then?"

"You'll find out sooner or later. Now cut the crap why are you here?"

Natasha inquired.

"Look. You know Tribune Brimstone? He's arrested and since I am the only one that's "available" he made me challenge an Imperator to a duel to buy him freedom."

"What type of duel, a casual- "

"You know what I mean Natasha. You practice it anyways."

"Come on, get downstairs- "

The sound of whirring was audible throughout the floor. Searchlights peered throughout the hotel floor, beaming light into each room. It was a helicopter.

"Did you sign in under an alias?"

"'Couse I did; what did you expect for someone with ten years of experience in the field?"

The two of them ran into the elevator. They went down to the lobby, running out in an assumed panic. There were police everywhere once the duo was out of the building, hands in the air. They ran back across downtown Toyko; the early hours of the morning had just barely been rung in.

"I honestly thought you'd be in the Hanamura neighborhood. Hanzo and Genji have some, well history back there."

"Did you expect history or information when I was barely here? Of course I would be investigating Yashida Industries."

They arrived at the Tokyo Tower, barely escaping the police. They ascended up the metal beams and dimly lit lights and arrived at the top where a mage was still waiting.

"Black Citadel. Pronto. Please."

"Pliskin. You better explain to me why you dragged me from a mission to help you with this shit."

"I will."

The two of them dissipated into air as they arrived at the Black Citadel, in the middle of Hero's Canton in the middle of the night.


San Francisco,

San Francisco Public Library.

"Look Reinhardt, I don't know why you decided to take us to the library, but this looks pretty cool."

Elena said, gazing at all the books.

It was around the early morning, the library had just barely opened, and the first thing patrons of the library was a seven foot, former crusader, now an Overwatch agent and his four companions. The early morning glare wasn't particularly strong, partly due to the fog. They were in the café, on the ground floor with televisions broadcasting the news, with weather and news of blimps launching in the area and a supposed vandalism of an apartment.

"Okay, Reinhardt brought two books on Aztec mythology and- Is that cryptology?"

Nate asked, dropping the books on the table.

"Nate, c'mon. It's for the mission."

Elena responded.

"Elena, remember the time we were in Panama and- "

"Were supposed to find the supposed treasure of "El Dorado." C'mon Nate, it was a myth developed by the inhabitants of Dorado- "

"To attract tourists. Elena I know."

He said, agitated.

"You two are cute. When's the one-year anniversary? Got anything planned?"

"Sly. It's only been six months since the wedding. You remember."

"Oh right."

He was sitting to the right of Reinhardt, drinking an expresso while peering over one of the books of Aztec history. He wasn't wearing his trademark blue hoodie, instead opting for a navy blue pea coat and his yellow scarf in addition to his hat. The café wasn't packed, even at nine in the morning.

"I'm going to check out more books on Aztec history, Elena, Sly wanna come? Cap and Snake are still analyzing what we found in Pliskin's apartment, they aren't going to be coming until, like 11."

"Sure thing."

The three of them exited the strong scent of the café and took an elevator to the fourth floor of the library. It was quiet as usual, as it was a library. They progressed through the hallways, filled with endless books about the Romans, Greeks, Chinese and Korean Dynasties, books that could fill a place such as Karazhan. They arrived at a section that was distinctly labeled "Aztec" on the header on the shelf. It wasn't as large as the areas containing the more "popular" subjects of history.

"Nate, why are you checking out books on the Aztecs anyways? They've got no relevance to Sombra."

"One of the messages was sent to Gibraltar was recorded to be from the Yucatan peninsula,"

Elena interjected.

"It was originally in Spanish but thanks to, "me" I decoded it for them from my office in NYC. It was the same gibberish we got from all the other messages."

Nate was grabbing books by the piles, pulling texts about ancient Aztec rituals and ancient Aztec languages and pictographs. He opened a book up, revealing many myths and legends revolving the Aztec deities. He flipped through a page, landing on one story he had never recalled hearing or learning before. The legend of the Sombra.

"Her lips touch those whom are deemed unworthy… She seeks information… and she silences them all."

"Well, well, well, our supposed hacker is actually an Aztec demigoddess? Whadaya know, hmm?"

"Sly, Nate. I don't think we're dealing with the supernatural. We're dealing with someone who intends to metaphorically "silence" us. By hacking of course."

"Oohh… some spooky ghost figure hmm? Elena, she always leaves a purple sugar skull, and what do they symbolize? Bingo. Day of the Dead."

"Nate, please don't tell me this is one of your crazy conspiracies again-"

"Of course it is! But it's not that crazy, I promise 'ya. All I'm saying is that there's a connection between this Sombra myth, skulls and Day of the Dead. Isn't day of the dead supposed to be in a month or so?"

Nate said, rambling off on one of his theories.

"Around fifty-seven days to be precise."

Sly responded, checking his digital watch.

"Hey you two. I think I know a guy who knows this stuff. Anyone remember Doctor Jones? Or Indiana Jones? I worked with him on some digs, including the one in Egypt Nate."

"Elena, please don't tell me…"

"Yep, I'm callin' up Doctor Jones."

She then left the shelves, and headed into a study room to make a call to her colleague, Indiana Jones, all the way in the East Coast. And Nate continued to carry the multitudes of books to the table below, much to Sly's disappointment.

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