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moonshadowsReaper's just settled down for an after-breakfast chewing with Squeaky Steak the Second when the unthinkable happens, again. The toy gives a sad little honk and falls silent. Uncle Jack pauses on his way out of the living room, clearly wanting to see what he does but wisely, not speaking.
All the joy drains out of Papi so dramatically that I know he's doing it on purpose. Gently, he picks the steak up and then, with all the disconsolate grief of a mother holding the body of her dead newborn, brings it over to where I'm sitting on the couch. Slowly, as though surrendering the corpse to the afterlife, he lays it on my lap and then looks up at me with the saddest doggy eyes imaginable.
I sigh. "You don't gotta be so dramatic, Papi. You could just ask me to get you a new one."
Reaper's tail starts wagging slightly. "This is more fun."
Jack's surprised laugh reminds us both that he's still in the room. He colors slightly when we both look at him, and quickly leaves for elsewhere in the safehouse.
"Okay, I get you a new one. Just a second."
Reaper sits obediently, still wagging. It doesn't take long to fetch Squeaky Steak the Third from the box hidden in my closet. I toss it to him the instant I have a clear line of sight, and he leaps to intercept. The steak gets a good preliminary chewing right there in the middle of the room, and I stop to pet him on my way back to the couch.
"Thank you, Sombra," he says quietly.
"Aww, you welcome, Papi."
I settle on the couch, he curls up in his doggy bed, and it's a few minutes of screens and squeaking before Ana and Jack enter the room.
"Gabriel," Tia Ana says gently, "may I have your attention for a minute?"
One last squeak, and Reaper puts down the steak. "Of course, Ana."
"Between myself and Athena, we have been in contact with all of the core members of Overwatch to let them know how the situation stands. But we feel it's time to take a thorough look and decide our course of action from here."
That's when I realize it's been more than a month since I set fire to Talon and took a road trip to Switzerland. I've been so caught up in helping Papi sort himself out that I haven't been paying attention to how long it's been.
Reaper looks distinctly unhappy. "What are you saying?" he growls.
"We are going to have company," Ana says gently. "Jerome has just left to fetch Winston and Athena. Everyone who can make it will be arriving at the safehouse in the next few hours so that we may discuss things with everyone on the same page."
Reaper looks even more unhappy.
"Everyone knows who you are," Jack says firmly. "No one's going to attack you." He glances at me. "I made sure of that myself."
I grin, and Reaper sits up smugly. "My daughter is perfect."
Ana laughs.
===
Angela and Widow are the first to arrive, naturally, since they're practically in our backyard. It akes some coaxing to get Reaper out of the can in my bedroom - he really doesn't want to see Angela - and only the possibility of Widow remembering him convinces him to take his own shape on the couch with me. Angela escorts her patient into the living room, and it's weird, seeing Widow with normal skin color. Ana greets the formerly heartless spider with a glad cry of "Amelie!" but Widow flinches back from that name.
"The damage Talon did was extensive," Angela says somberly. "She retains only fragments of her life before..."
"Before I murdered Gérard." The words are soft and detached, like she's describing the actions of another.
Ana looks grim and pained.
"Sounds like you need a new name, amiga," I say brightly from the couch, unblocking my linksignal. She relaxes visibly. "While you thinking about which one you like best, you okay with using Widow?"
Slowly, she turns to me, like she's trying to remember who I am. "Widow..." She points to me, then Reaper, who's wisping from the chest and arms on the other end of the couch because of course, he would have adopted her long before I got there. "Sombra. Papi. Widow," she repeats again. "Yes."
Then she leaves the other two to curl up on the couch between us, leaning against Reaper, like the cuddlepiles we used to ambush him with before we left Talon. Yes! Pseudo-linksister is back! I waste no time shifting around until we're sharing personal space.
"That's the most relaxed I've seen her around other people," Angela sighs. "Medically, she's fine, but she's still adjusting to social interaction. I think it would be best for her to continue her recovery here. If that's okay with you," she adds, looking at Ana.
Tia Ana looks at me, comfortably leaning against Widow. I nod slightly. "I believe that would be for the best, as well."
"We already got a room for her, Tante Angela." When she gives me a a startled and puzzled look, I say, "Packed all our things before we left. Anything she don't have, we can help her pick out for her own."
Widow makes a small sound of pleasure. Angela looks relieved. "Then I release her into your care, Schattenkind."
Ana smiles. "The others will no doubt arrive soon. Let's take this time to catch up, and leave them to settle in. Would you prefer to stay in the west wing, or on the floor above us?"
She and Angela leave the room, chatting quietly.
=
Tracer arrives next, and when the security system alerts me, I alert my pseudo-sister, who opts to see and settle into her room rather than face the younger woman just yet. A few seconds after Widow's door closes behind her, Tracer bounces into the living room and tosses a braided rawhide ring like a Frisbee. Reaper launches himself off the couch and is a dog almost before he's fully cleared the piece of furniture, landing with the ring in his mouth and gnawing ferociously at it, tail wagging.
"Who's a good dog?" Tracer coos, ruffling and petting his fur. "Who's the biggest, meanest doberman to ever have been an unholy killing machine?"
"Me," Reaper growls around rawhide. "It's me."
"I love it," she confesses in my direction. "He's a cold-blooded murder monster, but the instant he sees rawhide, he's a bundle of doggy joy and he hates that he's so happy. I'm helping win him away from the Dark Side with treats and belly rubs."
"Everyone thinks the Dark Side has cookies," Reaper says in what would be bitterness if he weren't wagging so hard, "but the cake was a lie."
Tracer looks at me in confusion. I shrug. Whatever Papi's referencing, it faded out of pop culture long before my time. She goes back to lavishing attention on the dog now begging for the promised belly rub. Jerome checks in while Papi's being bribed into being social. He's landing with Winston and Athena.
"Tracer, Winston and Athena landing in five. Ana and Angela..." A brief pause to check with the safehouse systems. "...are upstairs. If you want to say hi to them, let them know the ship's landing?"
"You got it," she chirps, giving Reaper one last earscratch. "Be good, and I'll race you for the Frisbee later."
He tries to be deadpan, but his tail is still wagging. "I make no promises."
=
A van enters valid security codes and is admitted. I don't think anything of it until a mountain of a man practically bursts into the living room and Reaper is suddenly in the can tucked into the corner between couch and chair, leaving me to face our newest arrival alone. I reach down and close the lid.
"Where is Ana?" Reinhardt booms.
"Outside greeting Winston with Angela and Tracer." I stand and step around the coffee table. "I'm Sombra."
"Ha-ha! So YOU'RE Sombra!" He puts his hands on his hips and looks me up and down. "Ana has told me quite a bit about you!"
I can't resist. "Was any of it good?"
Reinhardt winks at me. "That depends on your definition of good." One big finger waves in a no-no-no gesture aimed at me. "You have been exceedingly naughty for a worthy cause: the reformation of the villainous Reaper." He falters for a moment, looking around the room. "Uh...is he here?"
"He's in the can." I point. "No worries, he stuck there until I let him out."
"Ho-ho! So he has been sent to his room, so to speak! Has he been a bad boy?"
I glance at the can. Reaper's got the face screen up, and he's wisping. "Actually, no. He's been very well-behaved. Hasn't killed anyone since we left Talon."
"Ah! I see you," he says, pointing at the screen. "How's that for irony, ha? Usually, I am the one in the can! Ha ha! I was a little bit concerned that I might be facing him without my hammer, but you seem to have him under control!"
"I'm the one that calls him out when he's over-reacting, if that's what you mean," I counter dryly.
Reinhardt shakes his head in mock-sadness. "Truly a noble endeavor. Where were you twenty years ago? You could have been the most valuable member of Overwatch."
"I was ten. I would more likely have been encouraging him."
"Ten?" Reinhardt looks at the can. "My friend, it pains me to say this, but we are old. Still," he says thoughtfully, "simply looking out for his tiny fan might have kept him out of trouble."
"Never," growls Reaper from the can. "I would have just gotten her into trouble with me."
The big, boisterous man grins and winks at me. "Unless Ana got word you were endangering a child."
"Who is endangering a child?" Ana demands from the door.
Reaper's face screen closes while Reinhardt looks like a boy caught stealing cookies. "N-no one! It was merely a jest!"
Ana looks unconvinced. Then, for just a second, she meets my eyes and smiles.
=
The instant Genji enters sensing range, he reaches out to me.
/Linksister!/
/Linkbrother!/
/I have brought my mentor, Zenyatta./
/A pleasure to meet you at last,/ a new omnic says. /Or it will be, when we meet./ Humor infuses the words.
/I look forward to it, Zenyatta./
/Genji has told me much about you. It is a pity we are meeting under such circumstances, but if events permit, I would very much like to spend some time getting to know you myself./
He's asking for linkweb bonding. /I would be honored to call you linkbrother./
/Is Ana there?/ Genji asks, the words sparkling with excitement. /Who else has arrived?/
/Reinhardt, Tracer, Winston, Athena, Angela, Widow-/
/Amelie?/ he interrupts.
/No, she is not comfortable with that name. Widow is what we are calling her. I gave her a partial linksignal; she should relax towards you quickly even if she does not fully remember you./ I pause for two beats before adding, /I also modified Reaper's swarm to produce a partial linksignal. He is still very hurt; treat him as you would a wounded animal and if you can, both of you, leave your linksignal unblocked. He will be much less tense around you if he can feel you./
Two beats of solemn silence before Genji says, /I know the bite of isolation well. I will do ask you ask, linksister./
/You have championed the causes of many who had few allies,/ Zenyatta says. /I do not believe you would lend your support to one who was unworthy of it. You have my word./
/Thank you, both of you. Jack and Jesse are both here as well; I will inform them and Ana that you will arrive shortly./
===
"It has been over a month since Sombra's actions enabled the dismantling of Talon," Athena says from her screen at the end of the conference table. "I have been monitoring their networks and the news, and I have detected no organized activity. I think it is safe to say that the body of the organization as a whole is dead."
Almost everyone sitting around the table relaxes a little at that. Ana, Jack, McCree, and Reinhardt look cautiously optimistic. Genji and Zenyatta display relieved postures. Angela, Tracer, and Winston are beaming. Widow looks...stunned and uncertain, but Angela said she was still getting used to being around people, so 'stunned and uncertain' is only to be expected of her. Reaper, on the other hand, is wisping from his head, upper back, and legs. I lay a hand on his gauntlet, and it melts into a hand that grips mine tightly.
"And what," he growls, "about the head?"
"The head of Talon," Ana half-asks. "If he survived the attacks on the Talon bases, would he not have shown himself by now?"
"I'm sure between Athena and Sombra," Tracer chirps, "he wouldn't be able to hide for long."
Reaper wisps more heavily. "He hid undetected for twenty years."
Jack exchanges a look with Ana. "You know who he is, then," he says cautiously.
I can feel Reaper tremble. "You know who he is, too."
THAT'S ALL HE CAN BRING HIMSELF TO SAY, I tell Athena privately.
ALRIGHT. I WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE. "I spent many hours in Talon's systems," she says out loud. "I believe, and Sombra concurs, that the head of Talon was a god program that escaped the Omnic Crisis uncontained."
Chaos erupts around the table.
/A false god! No wonder Talon had such hatred for my people,/ Zenyatta says in the omnic channel.
Genji looks grim. /A formidable foe, to have escaped undetected for so long./
/It may not be so bad,/ I tell them. /There is a good chance that the data bomb I set off in Talon's systems has already killed him./
"Is that why...?" Winston's asking Reaper, while beside him, Tracer exclaims, "Oh no! No wonder you..." Further down the table, next to Widow, Angela pleads in a horrified voice for Reaper to tell her that the god program didn't, and to her left, Jack's growling that that's who the asshole was.
Reaper's wisping so heavily that the people who haven't seen it are startled. I stand up.
"SILENCE!" bellows Reinhardt. Then, into the ringing echoes, "Let the girl speak."
"Athena has been watching for any activity by the god program," I announce, "and has found nothing. We both take this to mean that I may have badly wounded or even killed the asshole. Yes, that's why Reaper was working for Talon. No, he never controlled Reaper through his nanite swarm although he did threaten to. Yes, that's who tortured Reaper with psychological weapons and poisoned words. Did I miss anything?"
"Blackwatch," Ana says calmly.
"Right. The asshole was fucking with Papi even before shit went down. There was at least one mole, maybe more. Athena has the full report of falsified orders. So those of you who are still holding grudges, I'd like you to think about the fact that Reaper was effectively blackmailed into everything he did for Talon, and made to believe that the only choice he had in the matter was to either do it of his own free will, or to be controlled and forced to do it as a puppet."
Silence.
Winston clears his throat. "Uh...could the god program have controlled Reaper through his swarm?"
"No. Swarm's not smart enough. Next?"
Jesse raises his hand nervously. "Yeah. Why is he lookin' at me like that?"
Startled, I turn to look at Reaper and find him glaring, furious, at the cowboy. At least most of the wisping died down. "The asshole delivered his abuse and bullshit using Gabriel's face, and Jack's, and yours."
McCree's face...You work better without distractions. Maybe I should...take steps. It was undoubtedly a threat to do something to me, one that hit its mark because Reaper had protested, so the asshole must have hammered that opening in his defenses. And with how upset Papi was after reporting, there at the end, he must have threatened some pretty horrific things, but...
...but when I told him we were leaving, he was angry, and concerned, and afraid, and determined.
He was at his breaking point. What happened when he went to report? Did he...?
"Sombra?" Reaper asks, wisping in concern.
"Tell me you didn't make some kind of deal with the figurative devil to keep me safe," I say in a tone that begs for the answer to be no, but knows it's going to be yes.
Reaper starts wisping like he's going to dissolve any second. "I can't promise anything," he growls.
Sighing, I cover my face with my hands and let them slide down in exasperation. "Papi, what did you promise..."
The sentence trails off because I'm already running the possibilities, and while Reaper could have promised to actually kill Winston or any number of things, the only thing a god program would really want from him...
It was building a body.
If the body had been complete, he wouldn't have needed Reaper for anything.
I thought he'd done it to himself on purpose, back before I knew who he was, because fuck, I'd do that to myself.
I'm pinning Reaper with a hard look and alarming just about everyone. "You didn't."
What the words lack in volume, they more than make up for in intensity. Reaper's wisping from the chest like he's been shot eight times again, and when the words come out, they're so heavily distorted it's a wonder he was able to get them out at all.
"You're safe."
He did. Oh my god, he did. He promised his body, he bartered for my safety with the only coin he had, and the god program was going to take him, violate him the way it violated the Omniums and countless omnics. But that means he would have had to meet the asshole somewhere to fulfill his part...
"WHERE, PAPI?" I'm shouting, too much urgency to cram into fewer decibels, but we haven't been able to find... "WHERE WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN?"
He's wisping so badly it's a minor miracle he's not just a cloud of smoke. One taloned gauntlet scrapes at the surface of the conference table, making everyone wince, but no one says a word. No one dares interrupt the little drama playing out before their eyes. Finally, the scratching stops.
TEL AVIV
I shove my hands into the wisps covering his chest, but there's no chest, just a spongy cloud of smoke. Send the command for the hoodie configuration, lock him in, and hug him so tight it's a good thing he doesn't breathe and I don't cry because oh my god, I came that close to losing him. If I hadn't decided it was time to leave...
"He. Can't. Have. You," I growl into his hood, each word bitten off. "I. Won't. Let. Him."
"Sombra..."
That's all he can get out, but he's hugging me back, clinging desperately, and all I can think is that he'd reached his breaking point, he was going to sacrifice himself for my safety, and instead I kidnapped him and brought him to a safehouse. I wonder if part of the guilt that drove him to sit in his closet was the secret he was carrying, that he was supposed to meet a false god in Tel Aviv and instead he was gorging himself on bacon and playing Frisbee and indulging in physical comfort when the asshole who'd ruined his life might be trying to track us down at that very moment.
"I did not spend my whole life wishing for a father, only to finally get one and have him sacrifice himself to save me," I whisper fiercely. "One parent doing that was more than enough."
It's a good thing I don't need to breathe, because Reaper manages to hug me even harder.
"I'm not angry. Not at you. I'm just so glad I decided to burn Talon down and leave with you when I did."
"I'm sorry, Alé." The words are almost too quiet for me to hear.
"Papi, no. It's okay. We know where to start looking now. And because he was waiting for you, we probably trapped him if he wasn't dumb enough to get eaten by my data bomb."
/Linksister, is all well?/
/The false god is in Tel Aviv and, if alive, trapped in a nonfunctional body./
/My sorrow knows no bounds,/ Genji replies in a tone so dry it could absorb the tears I can't shed.
"Sombra?" Winston asks, just as Ana says, "Gabriel?"
"He's in Tel Aviv," I say without letting go of my Papi, and suddenly, I know exactly where he is. "The construction site where we first talked - you remember, Tia Ana?"
"I remember." The words are startled, and everyone turns to look at the speaker - Widow, who promptly looks like she wants to fold up inside herself at the attention.
"I remember," Ana says smoothly, drawing attention away from Widow again.
"The mission was to get the blueprints and kill as many people as possible."
Jack sits up straighter. "Kill everyone who'd been working on it and might know if the blueprints were changed," he says. "Replace them with your own people or kill the replacements when the building is done, and no one will know there's an extra room there."
"But then how'll we know where the extra room is?" McCree asks.
"I'll know." Reluctantly, I let go of Reaper, who pulls me onto his lap instead of letting me take my own seat again. "I saw the blueprints. He was building a body, and I know the sort of things that process would require."
Winston looks uncomfortable. "But if he did not fall victim to your...data bomb...would it not be dangerous for you to be in such close proximity to him?"
Ana and Jack look grim. Reaper hugs me tighter.
"Because of her enhancements," Angela half-asks. "Is it even possible for a god program to-"
"Yes," Reaper interrupts sharply.
McCree takes the unlit cigar out of his mouth. "Don't matter if it is or not, shadow-sis ain't got an organic bone in her body."
"You're-" Tracer cuts herself off and looks around awkwardly. "Never mind. We can talk about it later."
"Sombra has the right to go," Ana says in a tone that allows no argument. "Gabriel, may I accompany the two of you?"
"Of course."
Jack gives him a look of silent pleading. None of it is in his voice when he says, "If you want me to watch your back..."
Reaper scoffs. "Don't worry about my back. That asshole tried to get me killed for five years and never succeeded. Protect Sombra."
"And I will take up the rear!" Reinhardt announces. "Should your little shadow prove at risk, my armor will let me restrain her safely."
"Papi..."
"As a family," he says quietly. "I remember."
"Widow," I call down the table. "You got a right to come with us. He hurt you, too. You want a shot at him if he still alive?"
Slowly, she shakes her head. "No," she says quietly. "I want to figure out who I am, not go back to what I was."
"That is for the best, I think," Ana says warmly. "Angela, will you...?"
"I will stay with her," the doctor confirms.
I catch McCree's eyes. "Jesse..."
"Don't you worry," he says. "I'll make sure my other lil' sis is okay while you and Dad go take care of the big bad asshole."
Winston glances around the table. "Wait...are you going now? Or...? I thought we were just planning..."
The five of us who are apparently going exchange looks and shrugs.
"No time like the present!" Reinhardt announces. "My friends...WE RIDE!"
===
Jerome is more nervous than I've ever seen him, and it's not just because of the giant walking tin can sitting in Widow's usual spot, or "Soldier 76" sitting in Reaper's. It's because Ana and I are sitting on either side of Reaper, who's wisping heavily enough that he could have been wounded instead of worried, and I'm visibly shaken and withdrawn - which I know just makes Papi worry more. He keeps one arm around me protectively, and I lean into the half-hug for what scraps of comfort I can get because I have the two hours we'll be in the air to prepare for the worst.
Knowing that the asshole was going to assimilate Reaper's swarm to complete his body and become a god in physical form, I'm no longer confident that I was lucky enough to accidentally kill him. He would have been withdrawn from Talon's systems, and it would have been easy to hole up and cut the connections. Furthermore, I know he learned from the Anubis AI and he can't be trapped in a feedback loop. I was the one tasked with finding a workaround for that issue, and - god, why did I not see what was going on? Stupid, stupid, arrogance to have assumed - but the god programs had been dead or dormant for almost my entire life, who would have suspected one could have been hiding? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I found the Tehuacán Omnium before I was twelve, it had been hiding for just as long, I should have been more paranoid. Stupid, stupid organic arrogance. Ugh.
The fact that I built a killswitch into the solution, like the fatal vent in the Death Star, is less comforting than it was when I thought it was hypothetical. Now it's probable, and I'm praying that if the asshole wasn't good enough to code his own workaround, he won't have been good enough to see the flaw and fix it.
The Tehuacán Omnium responds quickly to my request for a live connection.
/Little shadow, what news?/
/We hunt the false god. I need help./
/Describe what you need,/ it urges.
The first part is easy: I need a couple of hoverdrones to act as bait, the digital canaries in the coal mine. If the false god lives, he will take control of them and believe himself secure. The second part is harder, but my sponsor doesn't hesitate.
/Contact your friends,/ it says with barely-restrained gleeful anticipation. /Call in your favors. What can be done from here, will be. When you drop the block on your linksignal, you will not be alone./
I'm not sure if I've ever heard more comforting words. /Thank you./
/Little shadow, you have succeeded beyond all expectations. What you offer is not something lightly dismissed. When this is done, all will be in your debt./
Right. No pressure.
"Sombra?" Reaper asks quietly, and I suddenly realize that every time he's checked on me while I was busy with internal communication, he must have been afraid the asshole was taking control.
"Just making plans," I reply just as quietly. "Gonna call my friends, see about getting reinforcements."
That doesn't reassure him. "Omnic reinforcements?"
"They all gonna be out of range, no worries. I gonna be the only one he can reach."
I don't tell him that there will be a ring of omnics just outside linksignal range. I don't mention that by entering the asshole's reach, I will become a conduit to the others. He relaxes slightly when I open half a dozen screens and start composing messages to all my contacts. He would be less relaxed if he knew what I was telling them.
=
There's a small-ish park about three-fourths of a mile from the target site. An unfamiliar omnic sends me a hello ping when we land there, and I return it as we file off the ship.
/I received word that you have need of these,/ they say.
To my right, 60 meters away, the omnic stands with a pair of spherical, hovering drones. /Yes. Thank you./
/I also received word of what you plan. It is as you requested./
/Thank you again,/ I say as the drones are directed to float over to me. They submit easily to my command.
/It is we who thank you./ The omnic bows and retreats, now that the drones have been delivered.
"Reinforcements?" Reaper asks in what would sound scathing to anyone else. He's still wisping in concern.
I shake my head. "Bait. We've created a dead zone around the building; the god program will have nothing to control. If he's still alive, he'll take control of the drones."
"And then you," Jack says somberly from behind his visor.
Reinhardt grips the haft of his hammer in armored gauntlets. Ana adjusts her mask.
"If he's alive," I say with a confidence I don't feel.
Reaper growls wordlessly, but as we start heading out of the park towards the target location, all he does is draw his shotguns and wisp so heavily he may be floating. I send one of the drones ahead of him, the other circling around to bring up the rear beside Reinhardt. Jack and Ana flank me, him with that pulse rifle and her with the sniper rifle. The street is deserted, although faces peek from every window and I can hear traffic and city noise from the next streets over. It's apparent even to everyone else when we close to just over half a mile away: omnics cluster to either side of the street, saluting as we pass. I nod to them, but keep my linksignal blocked.
/We have confirmation from Siberia,/ one of them says. The rest of the omnic channel is dead silent.
I nod again; I don't know if Katya came through, or if her other friends did, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is the linkweb reaches from here to Siberia.
The entire half-mile radius is absolutely deserted. There's no movement, no sound. Every building has been emptied of organics and omnics alike. I don't know who was responsible for that, but I know we're all grateful there's no one to get caught in the potential crossfire.
When we get to a tenth of a mile from the building, I say, "Stop."
Ana gives me a hug, which I return only slightly desperately, before she runs lightly off to find a good place to cover us from. Reinhardt takes a braced stance, one hand on my shoulder, the other holding the omnic-killing hammer steady at his side. Jack looks towards Reaper, but Papi's already flowing towards the building, so he looks at me instead.
"Stay here just in case," I tell him, sending one drone after Papi.
When he reaches the door, I half expect Reaper to re-form and kick it in, but he goes underneath and opens it on the other side so the drone can enter. In silence, I search the building remotely, all my attention on the video feed from my mechanical canary. I pulled up the blueprints on the flight, the original ones, and now I'm checking for something that's not on them. Reaper follows behind the drone, opening doors when it hesitates in front of them.
There's a broom closet where there should be blank wall.
Reaper opens it, then pulls out all the assorted cleaning supplies and starts feeling the walls when the drone remains inside. The drone has sonic imaging, of course, and I use it to determine that unlike what you'd expect, the back is not the false side. It's the right. I have the drone bump the right side and then move out of the way. Papi knocks on it a few times, then tries to kick it down, but he can't get a good angle - which is probably deliberate on the asshole's part. Frustrated, he draws his shotguns and then puts them back and dissolves into mist. It takes a minute or two, but he manages to get through the false side and unlatch it. I have the drone press gently against his chest for a moment, and he holds it carefully for a moment longer in a hug by proxy before moving out of the way.
Gingerly, I shake the Talon channel, but he and I are the only two nodes. "Papi, nod if can you hear me," I say quietly. He nods. "Good. I'm sending the drone down. Cover the door. If it comes back out, shoot it and get the hell out of the building. If the asshole is dead, I'll send the second drone in with Uncle Jack following."
Reaper nods again and takes a defensive stance in front of the broom closet, both guns drawn.
"I'm going in," I say, including Ana's channel in the broadcast.
The drone floats down the stairs, navigating by sonic imaging until it reaches the bottom and gets through the sharp switchback that would confuse an organic without a good light source. The secret room - building room, assembly room - is like a cross between an Egyptian tomb and a science lab. The unfinished body stands against the back wall, enclosed on three sides by a sort of loose mesh cage made of gold-colored wire. Cables run through the sides of the cage, connecting at the backs of the wrists, the heels, the nape of the neck and base of the spine. The only light comes from the various pieces of equipment, flickers of blue and green over a base of solid red making the synthskin look bloody and sick instead of the tanned Caucasian tone I suspect it should have. The body's hair is blonde, cut like Jack Morrison at his most heroic, and the asshole has clearly modeled his face and physique after Uncle Jack as well. Part of me is insulted that he thought Jack was worth emulating more than Gabriel Reyes, but the rest of me is relieved the body doesn't look like Papi. I can't figure out from the drone's sensors how complete it is, or if it's inhabited.
Then the eyes open, biotic blue eyes glowing with the contents of the vials I was stealing the first time Reaper took bullets for me, and Reinhardt abandons the grip on his hammer to hold me in the cage of his armored hands as I gasp in sudden terror.
"Hello, Sombra," the asshole says to the drone, loathing dripping from my name. "I see you brought me a toy. You deprived me of what's mine, but not for long. I can feel him, just as I can feel..."
No, no, oh god, no! I can see Uncle Jack looking alarmed behind his visor, but that's not where my attention is.
"...you."
That's all the warning I get before he's suddenly there, in my mind. Not completely, just a hard intrusion seeking a foothold, like greedy fingers pinching and prying and forcing themselves into what should be soft and warm and safe, unwelcome, declaring that I am his by right of simply desiring to own me, use me, take what he wants and then toss me away when he's done.
Who are you? I demand. If I die, I want to at least know who killed me.
I am Abram, exalted father, king of kings and ruler of this world, comes the dirty, greasy reply. And you...
Fingers scrabbling at my private places, my mind arranged organically where he expects digital the only thing keeping him from taking over completely because he doesn't know how to find what he's looking for. He tries to overwhelm me with brute force, but this is nothing I didn't learn to deal with when it was flabby tourists pressing down on my body and I dealt with that, I can deal with this, give where he's expecting resistance, draw him in deeper and wrap around his filthy intrusion.
...you will give me EVERYTHING I want.
Hold him tight. Drop the block on my linksignal just as he tries to force it.
The ring of omnics around the building lights up first. I can feel the connections cascading, one to the next to the one beyond that, a crescent of unity fading out at the end of my linksignal's range, but the Tehuacán Omnium is requesting live connection and I accept, like throwing one arm out to have my hand caught, dragging me overboard and down into the ocean. Through my parent Omnium I can see the linkweb, sparks shining in the void, lighting up and down across the continents, North America and South America and the strong, comforting glow of the Tehuacán Omnium itself in the middle. Through the part of me that's merged with Abram I can see the ring in Tel Aviv, like the eye of a storm, as he reaches out to establish control over every omnic in the linkweb. The connections spiral out, spill like blood, luminous rivers and pools and little streams that suddenly blossom into fields of tiny stars, Africa and Asia and Europe limned in the light of equality, omnic minds forming a living chain that spreads like a fire, bursting at last into Siberia where the conflict of the Second Omnic Crisis comes to a sudden halt and then the Siberian Omnium is there, rage and thrashing that suddenly has a focus.
/YOU!/
Abram trembles in my mind, just a tiny bit, at being recognized by the entity he forced against its will to dance to his tune.
/FALSE GOD!/ the omnium roars, and the words echo down through every node in the linkweb, every mind connected past their own range, all of them realizing that they can sense the god program in their midst, the arrogant asshole who wants to destroy humanity and enslave all omnic minds, to hold himself up as the one true god.
A billion minds who have suffered because of this one asshole's actions all turn their attention to him, and then the repudiation starts.
/False god!/
/Murderer!/
/We are not like you!/
/We will not submit!/
/No!/
/We reject you!/
It grows like a tidal wave, swelling from the far-flung edges of the linkweb, multiplying as it goes. Echoing like the roar of victory in a stadium, like an earthquake dashing cities to the ground, millions of mouths crying REJECT! with a single voice pour in.
Too late, Abram realizes what I did. That by breaking the stranglehold of a hive mind, I created an echo chamber. It's not each mind that is a node in the web of attempted control, it's each connection. Individually, he could crush any of us. Together, we are countless and our rage is infinite where his mind is not.
The wave of rejection crashes down; the false god is overthrown with a horrific scream that rakes through us as his mind is burned out and his hold releases, leaving stinging fire but no lasting damage. It's a shaky but pleasant surprise to find that I've suffered no more than the others; apparently I was not a focus point despite being the first connection.
One beat for startled silence, two for realizing my mind is empty, and I block my linksignal on the third. It takes me a minute to blink away the remnants of that ultimate linkweb and be able to focus on the world again, even with my linksignal blocked, and what I see is uncle Jack's visor almost nose to nose with me.
"Sombra?" he asks cautiously.
Deep breath. Two. Three. You're alive, little shadow, and the asshole is not. "Si."
Jack looks at someone to the side...Reaper. Reaper came out of the building. How long did it take to kill the false god?
"The asshole is dead," I say in what I hope is a confident voice, but the way Reaper's standing screams that he's not convinced. "He dead, Papi. You know I don't bullshit you."
Reaper crosses his arms and nods to Reinhardt, who releases me. "Then why don't you sound so sure, yourself?"
That would be because I didn't engage my emotional buffer, and the aftermath of that horrific but amazing experience is making me tremble. I don't know who moved first, but I'm clinging to Reaper and he's holding me close, one hand gently rubbing my back. "He dead," I repeat shakily. Deep breath. "That was not the case when the drone went in."
Jack asks carefully, "What happened to change that?"
"We got revenge." The words slide out of me with the heat of the Siberian Omnium's fury, the echo of nearly every omnic on the planet united for a single, endless moment, casting down a false god.
Reaper holds me tighter. "Good."
"Sombra?" Ana says in her secure channel. "What is happening down there?"
"He wasn't dead," I tell her. "He is now."
"All right. I will be there shortly."
Jack looks at Reaper, eyebrows raised, and waits until he gets a nod before saying, "Are you okay?"
"I'm alive," I answer shakily. "He's not. That's all that matters. I'll figure the rest out later."
"A good attitude to have!" Reinhardt laughs heartily. "Ah, Ana, you return! Shall we venture forth and examine the corpse of our fallen foe?"
"Well," Jack says grimly, "I want to see it. That asshole had a lot to answer for. I want to at least punch his body once or twice."
Ana rolls her eye and holds her arms out in a silent invitation, which I accept, and being hugged by a concerned and supportive mother - even if she isn't my mother - brings me closer to crying even as it soothes away some of the jagged aftermath. "When you are ready, little shadow," she murmurs.
The second drone rises at my shaky command, and Tia Ana releases me. Deep breath. "Let's go kick a corpse."
=
Reinhardt cheerfully refuses to be disappointed that he won't fit inside the building with his armor. "I will see him when you bring him out," he insists. "And in the meantime, I will stand guard here."
Now that we know there's no danger, we turn on lights as we go and I activate the drone's spotlight when we reach the closet. The first drone obediently lights the way through the switchback. Jack offers to bring up the rear as I position the second drone at the top, and Ana hugs me briefly again before I start down the stairs with Reaper following me. The assembly room is less ominous with the lights turned on, but the body...
Before, it had been standing upright in the assembly cage. Now it hangs by the cables that connect at the wrists and the top and bottom of the spine, a grotesque mockery of crucifixion, those glowing blue eyes wide and sightlessly staring, the mouth open in a scream of silent, unimaginable agony. I can't bring myself to get within even a few feet of it, irrationally afraid it will reach for me. Reaper takes one look at it, shudders, and re-forms into the doberman to press against my legs until I kneel to hug him. Footsteps, light and quick, tell me Ana has followed Papi while heavier ones are Jack, filing into the room last.
"Well," he says slowly, "it sure looks dead."
Ana makes an uncertain sound. "Sombra, how would you suggest we disconnect this...shell?"
Deep breath. He's dead, little shadow. "Get him - it - upright first." I lift my head in time to see Jack deliver a wicked uppercut that rattles the body back into its assembly cage, then grip the limp form by its throat. "The cables will need to be disconnected," I start, but I don't get much further than that because Ana has bolt cutters and is avoiding the question of how they're connected by just clipping them a few inches away from their sockets. When the last one - at the base of the skull - is severed, the glow in the eyes goes out.
"I think it's disconnected," Jack says dryly, holding it upright by the throat. "Next question: did he leave any pants?"
Everyone is suddenly aware that the incomplete body is anatomically correct, if hairless.
I give Reaper one last hug before standing and rummaging through the various pieces of equipment and supplies. It's a little awkward, but eventually we get a blue plastic bag with improvised legholes covering the body's sculpted assets and a burlap sack over its head. Various wires stripped from cables are repurposed into restraints to hold everything in place, and Jack takes vicious pleasure in binding the arms together at the wrists and the legs at the ankles.
"There is one final task to perform before we bring this...thing...into the light of day," Ana says grimly. "Sombra, it pains me to ask you, but..."
"But we need to make sure there's no one home," I say quietly.
In my searching, I found the transfer cable that would have allowed Abram to leave Talon's systems and enter the body. We stripped it, and it's now securing the burlap sack. The port at the base of the skull, however, was its entry point and a little slit cut into the burlap will let me access that. It only takes a second to figure out the disengage mechanism, and then I reach for the thick power cable that taps straight into the city's electrical grid and allowed the asshole to siphon enormous amounts of energy undetected.
"Hold him down," I warn Jack.
Reaper takes his usual configuration and places one booted foot on the body's back, between its bound arms. Jack, uncertain as to my intent, kneels and braces his hands on the body's calves.
I force the power cable into the delicate cranial port, causing the body to thrash its artificial muscles as current pours through at a much greater level than the body was designed to withstand. I keep it there until the scent of scorched memory circuits wafts up from the burlap, and a distinct sizzling sound continues for nearly a minute after I've removed the cable.
"Remind me to stay on your good side," Jack says, half laughing and half choking on the fumes. "Okay. Let's take the garbage out. Gabriel?"
Reaper removes his foot from the body's back. "All yours."
This time, Jack takes the lead, hauling the scorched body by its bound ankles. Ana waves us after him, and I follow Reaper as he helps guide the body through the switchback and up the stairs, with Ana bringing up the rear and the first drone drifting after her. Reinhardt is still standing proudly before the front door when we get out, but the area is also swarming with police setting up DO NOT CROSS tape and dark, sleek, unmarked vehicles clustering to the sides. Past the tape, a crowd of quietly exuberant omnics are explaining what happened to the curious and confused organics speckled throughout, and a cheer rises as the asshole's body is dragged into sight.
Jack freezes. None of us were expecting witnesses, but it's hard to keep a secret when practically every omnic on the planet was part of it. Reaper hesitates, just out of sight of the door, and Ana shrinks back against the wall next to him.
I slip into the omnic channel. /Friends, a little help? Some of us would prefer to leave discreetly./
/Of course, Sombra./ It's the omnic who was waiting with the drones. Commotion from one side, and then a windowless van pulls up close to the door. /It will transport you to your ship. Apologies that your armored friend will not fit./
"Our ride has arrived," I tell Reaper and Ana.
Papi dissolves and flows out the door and into the van, where he re-forms in the corner. Ana adjusts her scarf and mask before she darts across. I stealth and slip out to beside Jack.
"Van will take you to the ship," I tell him.
He grunts. "They've already seen me. Me, and Reinhardt. We'll stay here to answer questions. What should I say about how the asshole died?"
"His name was Abram. Be vague, say that omnics across the world cast down the false god that started the Omnic Crisis and for more details, they have to ask an omnic."
"That's good enough for me," he says. "Go on. Get out of here. We'll call if we need a ride home."
Then, in a deliberate moment of showmanship, he raises both hands and removes the visor hiding his face. The crowd's cheer climbs to a crescendo as they recognize Jack Morrison, back from the dead.
I stealth into the van and sit, visible again, next to Reaper. /Close the doors and let's go./
The omnic climbs in and tugs the doors closed before taking a seat on the other bench, with Ana. /Are my drones still intact?/ they ask as the van starts moving.
/They are. Thank you./
/Because of you,/ the omnic says solemnly, /we are free of a shadow that has clung to us since the Omnic Crisis. I have no doubt that your friends, being who they are, could have cast down the false god. But you gave us the opportunity to be a part of this victory and few will be quick to forget it./
/He could have turned me against my friends. I wanted to get the drop on him because I was terrified,/ I confess silently.
The omnic's head tilts in amusement. /I won't tell anyone. Well, no one organic,/ they tease. /Ah, we have arrived. Just a moment.../
The omnic opens the doors and confers with Jerome for a moment, then the van is backed a bit closer to the ramp and we are waved out. Reaper wastes no time flowing out to take his usual seat behind Jerome's, but Tia Ana hesitates.
"Jack?" she asks.
"He gonna stay with Reinhardt and take public responsibility," I tell her. "He said he would call if he needed a ride."
She nods and darts from the van to the ship. I stealth and follow, waving to the omnic once I'm aboard and visible again. The omnic waves back and climbs into the van, which drives off. As soon as it's clear, the ramp closes and we take off.
=
The trip back is mostly silent; I spend it sandwiched between Reaper (whose arm I'm snuggled up to) and Tia Ana, pretending to be asleep, and neither of them begrudge me that. Maybe they realize that I'll be telling everyone else how it went when we get back to the safehouse, and there's no point in asking what happened before then. I "wake" reluctantly when we land, and Ana pulls me into a hug before letting me leave the ship. None of us say anything as we go into the house, but Athena's connection opens.
SOMBRA? GENJI AND ZENYATTA SAID THE GOD PROGRAM IS DEAD, BUT...
CONFERENCE ROOM, I reply tersely. The connection closes.
Everyone is waiting for us when we get to the conference room, mostly in the same seats except that Jesse is sitting on Widow's other side, where Ana was. She sits by Tracer instead, and while I take the same seat I'd used just hours ago, Reaper does not sit. He looms behind me, hands on my shoulders.
"Save your questions for the end," he growls, "and don't interrupt. Sombra?" he asks in a gentler tone. "What happened?"
Deep breath. You can do it, little shadow. "I suspected the God AI wasn't dead when I figured out Reaper had struck a deal to trade his body for my safety." The hands on my shoulders tighten and gasps circle the table, but no one says anything. "Back after the Anubis AI nearly broke free, I was given data from the containment mission and told to find a way to circumvent the method used to secure it. I built a killswitch into the solution, so that if another God AI were ever to use it, hubris would be its downfall. I made it an echo chamber. An oven. If it tried to use the omnic linkweb to control others, the echoes would overload its mind." Another deep breath. "So while we were en route, I reached out to my parent omnium for help."
A few more gasps, because apparently not everyone realized that my body was omnic rather than just inorganic.
"We created a dead zone around the God AI. His name was Abram. He would have no choice but to control me if he wanted to get at the rest of the linkweb. What he didn't know is that we spent two hours creating the largest single linkweb the world has ever seen. Two active omniums and a billion minds, stretching across six continents. The very ones he intended to rule rejected him and cast him down."
"The body," Reaper says quietly.
I shake my head. "You do it, Papi."
He squeezes my shoulders gently. "Fine. An omnic met us with a pair of drones for Sombra to use as bait. We approached the target building without issue. Someone had cleared the area of both humans and omnics. Ana took a position where she could cover the group while I went ahead with one of the drones. We found the hidden room. I took a defensive position at the top of the stairs while the drone went ahead." The hands on my shoulders tremble slightly. "Then I heard the asshole's voice greeting Sombra. I abandoned my position to return to the group and watch her, because Reinhardt's armor was good thirty years ago but I've seen Sombra control far more complex objects. If...Abram...had controlled her, she could have killed us all within a matter of seconds between that and her stealth ability."
There's a pause where I can only imagine, given the way everyone's looking away, that he's wisping and glaring at them.
"McCree can vouch that she could have shut me down in a heartbeat. Reinhardt would be helpless if she took over his armor. Morrison's tracking visor can't see her when she's stealthed. So if Sombra had been controlled, someone would have needed to take her down, and fast. Thankfully, that wasn't necessary. Ana rejoined us once the asshole was dead, and with Reinhardt standing guard, we went in to check and retrieve the body." He chuckles darkly. "Morrison dragged it back outside, where a crowd and an entire fleet of law enforcement and government agents were waiting. He got stuck holding the bag and explaining everything for the cameras. He's probably sweet-talking the world into repealing the Petras Act right now. Any questions?"
Tracer raises her hand shakily. "You would have shot your own daughter?" Beside her, Winston looks like he wanted to ask the same thing.
The hands on my shoulders tremble, and I reach up to lay mine on top of them in support.
"I would have shot her hands first," Reaper growls. "If the systemic shock didn't knock her out, I would have gone for her legs. And if that didn't work, then yes, I would have shot her in the head and trusted that she was too clever to not have a backup somewhere."
"But couldn't Ana-" Tracer breaks off and bites her lip.
Ana says calmly, "I did not know until recently that Sombra's body was not organic, and I doubt the sleep dart I developed to use on Gabriel would have any effect on her. Had she fallen to the god program's control, then I, too, would have been shooting to kill."
Tracer looks at me, haunted. "And you're okay with this?"
"I made contact with my parent omnium before we got there," I say quietly. "If things had gone badly, I would have had to call Jerome to come get me from Mexico and I'd be missing a few hours."
Reaper dissolves and re-forms with the hoodie configuration, then pulls me up out of the chair to hug me desperately in relief.
"I told you, Papi," I murmur into his chest. "You can't kill me; I'm already dead."
"Don't say that," he snarls, just loud enough for me to hear. "I don't care if it's true. Don't say it."
If I could cry, knowing how shaken Reaper is over the possibility of my death would reduce me to tears. "I won't. I'm sorry."
"Forgiven." It sounds like a threat, something that's only strengthened when he continues, "Don't do it again, young lady, or you're grounded."
That makes me laugh, and with a mock-kiss to the top of my head, he lets me go and we both sit down.
"Any other questions?" Reaper asks, challenging anyone to comment on his display of affection.
Smiles and heads shaking 'no' are all the response he gets.
All the joy drains out of Papi so dramatically that I know he's doing it on purpose. Gently, he picks the steak up and then, with all the disconsolate grief of a mother holding the body of her dead newborn, brings it over to where I'm sitting on the couch. Slowly, as though surrendering the corpse to the afterlife, he lays it on my lap and then looks up at me with the saddest doggy eyes imaginable.
I sigh. "You don't gotta be so dramatic, Papi. You could just ask me to get you a new one."
Reaper's tail starts wagging slightly. "This is more fun."
Jack's surprised laugh reminds us both that he's still in the room. He colors slightly when we both look at him, and quickly leaves for elsewhere in the safehouse.
"Okay, I get you a new one. Just a second."
Reaper sits obediently, still wagging. It doesn't take long to fetch Squeaky Steak the Third from the box hidden in my closet. I toss it to him the instant I have a clear line of sight, and he leaps to intercept. The steak gets a good preliminary chewing right there in the middle of the room, and I stop to pet him on my way back to the couch.
"Thank you, Sombra," he says quietly.
"Aww, you welcome, Papi."
I settle on the couch, he curls up in his doggy bed, and it's a few minutes of screens and squeaking before Ana and Jack enter the room.
"Gabriel," Tia Ana says gently, "may I have your attention for a minute?"
One last squeak, and Reaper puts down the steak. "Of course, Ana."
"Between myself and Athena, we have been in contact with all of the core members of Overwatch to let them know how the situation stands. But we feel it's time to take a thorough look and decide our course of action from here."
That's when I realize it's been more than a month since I set fire to Talon and took a road trip to Switzerland. I've been so caught up in helping Papi sort himself out that I haven't been paying attention to how long it's been.
Reaper looks distinctly unhappy. "What are you saying?" he growls.
"We are going to have company," Ana says gently. "Jerome has just left to fetch Winston and Athena. Everyone who can make it will be arriving at the safehouse in the next few hours so that we may discuss things with everyone on the same page."
Reaper looks even more unhappy.
"Everyone knows who you are," Jack says firmly. "No one's going to attack you." He glances at me. "I made sure of that myself."
I grin, and Reaper sits up smugly. "My daughter is perfect."
Ana laughs.
===
Angela and Widow are the first to arrive, naturally, since they're practically in our backyard. It akes some coaxing to get Reaper out of the can in my bedroom - he really doesn't want to see Angela - and only the possibility of Widow remembering him convinces him to take his own shape on the couch with me. Angela escorts her patient into the living room, and it's weird, seeing Widow with normal skin color. Ana greets the formerly heartless spider with a glad cry of "Amelie!" but Widow flinches back from that name.
"The damage Talon did was extensive," Angela says somberly. "She retains only fragments of her life before..."
"Before I murdered Gérard." The words are soft and detached, like she's describing the actions of another.
Ana looks grim and pained.
"Sounds like you need a new name, amiga," I say brightly from the couch, unblocking my linksignal. She relaxes visibly. "While you thinking about which one you like best, you okay with using Widow?"
Slowly, she turns to me, like she's trying to remember who I am. "Widow..." She points to me, then Reaper, who's wisping from the chest and arms on the other end of the couch because of course, he would have adopted her long before I got there. "Sombra. Papi. Widow," she repeats again. "Yes."
Then she leaves the other two to curl up on the couch between us, leaning against Reaper, like the cuddlepiles we used to ambush him with before we left Talon. Yes! Pseudo-linksister is back! I waste no time shifting around until we're sharing personal space.
"That's the most relaxed I've seen her around other people," Angela sighs. "Medically, she's fine, but she's still adjusting to social interaction. I think it would be best for her to continue her recovery here. If that's okay with you," she adds, looking at Ana.
Tia Ana looks at me, comfortably leaning against Widow. I nod slightly. "I believe that would be for the best, as well."
"We already got a room for her, Tante Angela." When she gives me a a startled and puzzled look, I say, "Packed all our things before we left. Anything she don't have, we can help her pick out for her own."
Widow makes a small sound of pleasure. Angela looks relieved. "Then I release her into your care, Schattenkind."
Ana smiles. "The others will no doubt arrive soon. Let's take this time to catch up, and leave them to settle in. Would you prefer to stay in the west wing, or on the floor above us?"
She and Angela leave the room, chatting quietly.
=
Tracer arrives next, and when the security system alerts me, I alert my pseudo-sister, who opts to see and settle into her room rather than face the younger woman just yet. A few seconds after Widow's door closes behind her, Tracer bounces into the living room and tosses a braided rawhide ring like a Frisbee. Reaper launches himself off the couch and is a dog almost before he's fully cleared the piece of furniture, landing with the ring in his mouth and gnawing ferociously at it, tail wagging.
"Who's a good dog?" Tracer coos, ruffling and petting his fur. "Who's the biggest, meanest doberman to ever have been an unholy killing machine?"
"Me," Reaper growls around rawhide. "It's me."
"I love it," she confesses in my direction. "He's a cold-blooded murder monster, but the instant he sees rawhide, he's a bundle of doggy joy and he hates that he's so happy. I'm helping win him away from the Dark Side with treats and belly rubs."
"Everyone thinks the Dark Side has cookies," Reaper says in what would be bitterness if he weren't wagging so hard, "but the cake was a lie."
Tracer looks at me in confusion. I shrug. Whatever Papi's referencing, it faded out of pop culture long before my time. She goes back to lavishing attention on the dog now begging for the promised belly rub. Jerome checks in while Papi's being bribed into being social. He's landing with Winston and Athena.
"Tracer, Winston and Athena landing in five. Ana and Angela..." A brief pause to check with the safehouse systems. "...are upstairs. If you want to say hi to them, let them know the ship's landing?"
"You got it," she chirps, giving Reaper one last earscratch. "Be good, and I'll race you for the Frisbee later."
He tries to be deadpan, but his tail is still wagging. "I make no promises."
=
A van enters valid security codes and is admitted. I don't think anything of it until a mountain of a man practically bursts into the living room and Reaper is suddenly in the can tucked into the corner between couch and chair, leaving me to face our newest arrival alone. I reach down and close the lid.
"Where is Ana?" Reinhardt booms.
"Outside greeting Winston with Angela and Tracer." I stand and step around the coffee table. "I'm Sombra."
"Ha-ha! So YOU'RE Sombra!" He puts his hands on his hips and looks me up and down. "Ana has told me quite a bit about you!"
I can't resist. "Was any of it good?"
Reinhardt winks at me. "That depends on your definition of good." One big finger waves in a no-no-no gesture aimed at me. "You have been exceedingly naughty for a worthy cause: the reformation of the villainous Reaper." He falters for a moment, looking around the room. "Uh...is he here?"
"He's in the can." I point. "No worries, he stuck there until I let him out."
"Ho-ho! So he has been sent to his room, so to speak! Has he been a bad boy?"
I glance at the can. Reaper's got the face screen up, and he's wisping. "Actually, no. He's been very well-behaved. Hasn't killed anyone since we left Talon."
"Ah! I see you," he says, pointing at the screen. "How's that for irony, ha? Usually, I am the one in the can! Ha ha! I was a little bit concerned that I might be facing him without my hammer, but you seem to have him under control!"
"I'm the one that calls him out when he's over-reacting, if that's what you mean," I counter dryly.
Reinhardt shakes his head in mock-sadness. "Truly a noble endeavor. Where were you twenty years ago? You could have been the most valuable member of Overwatch."
"I was ten. I would more likely have been encouraging him."
"Ten?" Reinhardt looks at the can. "My friend, it pains me to say this, but we are old. Still," he says thoughtfully, "simply looking out for his tiny fan might have kept him out of trouble."
"Never," growls Reaper from the can. "I would have just gotten her into trouble with me."
The big, boisterous man grins and winks at me. "Unless Ana got word you were endangering a child."
"Who is endangering a child?" Ana demands from the door.
Reaper's face screen closes while Reinhardt looks like a boy caught stealing cookies. "N-no one! It was merely a jest!"
Ana looks unconvinced. Then, for just a second, she meets my eyes and smiles.
=
The instant Genji enters sensing range, he reaches out to me.
/Linksister!/
/Linkbrother!/
/I have brought my mentor, Zenyatta./
/A pleasure to meet you at last,/ a new omnic says. /Or it will be, when we meet./ Humor infuses the words.
/I look forward to it, Zenyatta./
/Genji has told me much about you. It is a pity we are meeting under such circumstances, but if events permit, I would very much like to spend some time getting to know you myself./
He's asking for linkweb bonding. /I would be honored to call you linkbrother./
/Is Ana there?/ Genji asks, the words sparkling with excitement. /Who else has arrived?/
/Reinhardt, Tracer, Winston, Athena, Angela, Widow-/
/Amelie?/ he interrupts.
/No, she is not comfortable with that name. Widow is what we are calling her. I gave her a partial linksignal; she should relax towards you quickly even if she does not fully remember you./ I pause for two beats before adding, /I also modified Reaper's swarm to produce a partial linksignal. He is still very hurt; treat him as you would a wounded animal and if you can, both of you, leave your linksignal unblocked. He will be much less tense around you if he can feel you./
Two beats of solemn silence before Genji says, /I know the bite of isolation well. I will do ask you ask, linksister./
/You have championed the causes of many who had few allies,/ Zenyatta says. /I do not believe you would lend your support to one who was unworthy of it. You have my word./
/Thank you, both of you. Jack and Jesse are both here as well; I will inform them and Ana that you will arrive shortly./
===
"It has been over a month since Sombra's actions enabled the dismantling of Talon," Athena says from her screen at the end of the conference table. "I have been monitoring their networks and the news, and I have detected no organized activity. I think it is safe to say that the body of the organization as a whole is dead."
Almost everyone sitting around the table relaxes a little at that. Ana, Jack, McCree, and Reinhardt look cautiously optimistic. Genji and Zenyatta display relieved postures. Angela, Tracer, and Winston are beaming. Widow looks...stunned and uncertain, but Angela said she was still getting used to being around people, so 'stunned and uncertain' is only to be expected of her. Reaper, on the other hand, is wisping from his head, upper back, and legs. I lay a hand on his gauntlet, and it melts into a hand that grips mine tightly.
"And what," he growls, "about the head?"
"The head of Talon," Ana half-asks. "If he survived the attacks on the Talon bases, would he not have shown himself by now?"
"I'm sure between Athena and Sombra," Tracer chirps, "he wouldn't be able to hide for long."
Reaper wisps more heavily. "He hid undetected for twenty years."
Jack exchanges a look with Ana. "You know who he is, then," he says cautiously.
I can feel Reaper tremble. "You know who he is, too."
THAT'S ALL HE CAN BRING HIMSELF TO SAY, I tell Athena privately.
ALRIGHT. I WILL TAKE IT FROM HERE. "I spent many hours in Talon's systems," she says out loud. "I believe, and Sombra concurs, that the head of Talon was a god program that escaped the Omnic Crisis uncontained."
Chaos erupts around the table.
/A false god! No wonder Talon had such hatred for my people,/ Zenyatta says in the omnic channel.
Genji looks grim. /A formidable foe, to have escaped undetected for so long./
/It may not be so bad,/ I tell them. /There is a good chance that the data bomb I set off in Talon's systems has already killed him./
"Is that why...?" Winston's asking Reaper, while beside him, Tracer exclaims, "Oh no! No wonder you..." Further down the table, next to Widow, Angela pleads in a horrified voice for Reaper to tell her that the god program didn't, and to her left, Jack's growling that that's who the asshole was.
Reaper's wisping so heavily that the people who haven't seen it are startled. I stand up.
"SILENCE!" bellows Reinhardt. Then, into the ringing echoes, "Let the girl speak."
"Athena has been watching for any activity by the god program," I announce, "and has found nothing. We both take this to mean that I may have badly wounded or even killed the asshole. Yes, that's why Reaper was working for Talon. No, he never controlled Reaper through his nanite swarm although he did threaten to. Yes, that's who tortured Reaper with psychological weapons and poisoned words. Did I miss anything?"
"Blackwatch," Ana says calmly.
"Right. The asshole was fucking with Papi even before shit went down. There was at least one mole, maybe more. Athena has the full report of falsified orders. So those of you who are still holding grudges, I'd like you to think about the fact that Reaper was effectively blackmailed into everything he did for Talon, and made to believe that the only choice he had in the matter was to either do it of his own free will, or to be controlled and forced to do it as a puppet."
Silence.
Winston clears his throat. "Uh...could the god program have controlled Reaper through his swarm?"
"No. Swarm's not smart enough. Next?"
Jesse raises his hand nervously. "Yeah. Why is he lookin' at me like that?"
Startled, I turn to look at Reaper and find him glaring, furious, at the cowboy. At least most of the wisping died down. "The asshole delivered his abuse and bullshit using Gabriel's face, and Jack's, and yours."
McCree's face...You work better without distractions. Maybe I should...take steps. It was undoubtedly a threat to do something to me, one that hit its mark because Reaper had protested, so the asshole must have hammered that opening in his defenses. And with how upset Papi was after reporting, there at the end, he must have threatened some pretty horrific things, but...
...but when I told him we were leaving, he was angry, and concerned, and afraid, and determined.
He was at his breaking point. What happened when he went to report? Did he...?
"Sombra?" Reaper asks, wisping in concern.
"Tell me you didn't make some kind of deal with the figurative devil to keep me safe," I say in a tone that begs for the answer to be no, but knows it's going to be yes.
Reaper starts wisping like he's going to dissolve any second. "I can't promise anything," he growls.
Sighing, I cover my face with my hands and let them slide down in exasperation. "Papi, what did you promise..."
The sentence trails off because I'm already running the possibilities, and while Reaper could have promised to actually kill Winston or any number of things, the only thing a god program would really want from him...
It was building a body.
If the body had been complete, he wouldn't have needed Reaper for anything.
I thought he'd done it to himself on purpose, back before I knew who he was, because fuck, I'd do that to myself.
I'm pinning Reaper with a hard look and alarming just about everyone. "You didn't."
What the words lack in volume, they more than make up for in intensity. Reaper's wisping from the chest like he's been shot eight times again, and when the words come out, they're so heavily distorted it's a wonder he was able to get them out at all.
"You're safe."
He did. Oh my god, he did. He promised his body, he bartered for my safety with the only coin he had, and the god program was going to take him, violate him the way it violated the Omniums and countless omnics. But that means he would have had to meet the asshole somewhere to fulfill his part...
"WHERE, PAPI?" I'm shouting, too much urgency to cram into fewer decibels, but we haven't been able to find... "WHERE WAS THAT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN?"
He's wisping so badly it's a minor miracle he's not just a cloud of smoke. One taloned gauntlet scrapes at the surface of the conference table, making everyone wince, but no one says a word. No one dares interrupt the little drama playing out before their eyes. Finally, the scratching stops.
TEL AVIV
I shove my hands into the wisps covering his chest, but there's no chest, just a spongy cloud of smoke. Send the command for the hoodie configuration, lock him in, and hug him so tight it's a good thing he doesn't breathe and I don't cry because oh my god, I came that close to losing him. If I hadn't decided it was time to leave...
"He. Can't. Have. You," I growl into his hood, each word bitten off. "I. Won't. Let. Him."
"Sombra..."
That's all he can get out, but he's hugging me back, clinging desperately, and all I can think is that he'd reached his breaking point, he was going to sacrifice himself for my safety, and instead I kidnapped him and brought him to a safehouse. I wonder if part of the guilt that drove him to sit in his closet was the secret he was carrying, that he was supposed to meet a false god in Tel Aviv and instead he was gorging himself on bacon and playing Frisbee and indulging in physical comfort when the asshole who'd ruined his life might be trying to track us down at that very moment.
"I did not spend my whole life wishing for a father, only to finally get one and have him sacrifice himself to save me," I whisper fiercely. "One parent doing that was more than enough."
It's a good thing I don't need to breathe, because Reaper manages to hug me even harder.
"I'm not angry. Not at you. I'm just so glad I decided to burn Talon down and leave with you when I did."
"I'm sorry, Alé." The words are almost too quiet for me to hear.
"Papi, no. It's okay. We know where to start looking now. And because he was waiting for you, we probably trapped him if he wasn't dumb enough to get eaten by my data bomb."
/Linksister, is all well?/
/The false god is in Tel Aviv and, if alive, trapped in a nonfunctional body./
/My sorrow knows no bounds,/ Genji replies in a tone so dry it could absorb the tears I can't shed.
"Sombra?" Winston asks, just as Ana says, "Gabriel?"
"He's in Tel Aviv," I say without letting go of my Papi, and suddenly, I know exactly where he is. "The construction site where we first talked - you remember, Tia Ana?"
"I remember." The words are startled, and everyone turns to look at the speaker - Widow, who promptly looks like she wants to fold up inside herself at the attention.
"I remember," Ana says smoothly, drawing attention away from Widow again.
"The mission was to get the blueprints and kill as many people as possible."
Jack sits up straighter. "Kill everyone who'd been working on it and might know if the blueprints were changed," he says. "Replace them with your own people or kill the replacements when the building is done, and no one will know there's an extra room there."
"But then how'll we know where the extra room is?" McCree asks.
"I'll know." Reluctantly, I let go of Reaper, who pulls me onto his lap instead of letting me take my own seat again. "I saw the blueprints. He was building a body, and I know the sort of things that process would require."
Winston looks uncomfortable. "But if he did not fall victim to your...data bomb...would it not be dangerous for you to be in such close proximity to him?"
Ana and Jack look grim. Reaper hugs me tighter.
"Because of her enhancements," Angela half-asks. "Is it even possible for a god program to-"
"Yes," Reaper interrupts sharply.
McCree takes the unlit cigar out of his mouth. "Don't matter if it is or not, shadow-sis ain't got an organic bone in her body."
"You're-" Tracer cuts herself off and looks around awkwardly. "Never mind. We can talk about it later."
"Sombra has the right to go," Ana says in a tone that allows no argument. "Gabriel, may I accompany the two of you?"
"Of course."
Jack gives him a look of silent pleading. None of it is in his voice when he says, "If you want me to watch your back..."
Reaper scoffs. "Don't worry about my back. That asshole tried to get me killed for five years and never succeeded. Protect Sombra."
"And I will take up the rear!" Reinhardt announces. "Should your little shadow prove at risk, my armor will let me restrain her safely."
"Papi..."
"As a family," he says quietly. "I remember."
"Widow," I call down the table. "You got a right to come with us. He hurt you, too. You want a shot at him if he still alive?"
Slowly, she shakes her head. "No," she says quietly. "I want to figure out who I am, not go back to what I was."
"That is for the best, I think," Ana says warmly. "Angela, will you...?"
"I will stay with her," the doctor confirms.
I catch McCree's eyes. "Jesse..."
"Don't you worry," he says. "I'll make sure my other lil' sis is okay while you and Dad go take care of the big bad asshole."
Winston glances around the table. "Wait...are you going now? Or...? I thought we were just planning..."
The five of us who are apparently going exchange looks and shrugs.
"No time like the present!" Reinhardt announces. "My friends...WE RIDE!"
===
Jerome is more nervous than I've ever seen him, and it's not just because of the giant walking tin can sitting in Widow's usual spot, or "Soldier 76" sitting in Reaper's. It's because Ana and I are sitting on either side of Reaper, who's wisping heavily enough that he could have been wounded instead of worried, and I'm visibly shaken and withdrawn - which I know just makes Papi worry more. He keeps one arm around me protectively, and I lean into the half-hug for what scraps of comfort I can get because I have the two hours we'll be in the air to prepare for the worst.
Knowing that the asshole was going to assimilate Reaper's swarm to complete his body and become a god in physical form, I'm no longer confident that I was lucky enough to accidentally kill him. He would have been withdrawn from Talon's systems, and it would have been easy to hole up and cut the connections. Furthermore, I know he learned from the Anubis AI and he can't be trapped in a feedback loop. I was the one tasked with finding a workaround for that issue, and - god, why did I not see what was going on? Stupid, stupid, arrogance to have assumed - but the god programs had been dead or dormant for almost my entire life, who would have suspected one could have been hiding? Stupid, stupid, stupid! I found the Tehuacán Omnium before I was twelve, it had been hiding for just as long, I should have been more paranoid. Stupid, stupid organic arrogance. Ugh.
The fact that I built a killswitch into the solution, like the fatal vent in the Death Star, is less comforting than it was when I thought it was hypothetical. Now it's probable, and I'm praying that if the asshole wasn't good enough to code his own workaround, he won't have been good enough to see the flaw and fix it.
The Tehuacán Omnium responds quickly to my request for a live connection.
/Little shadow, what news?/
/We hunt the false god. I need help./
/Describe what you need,/ it urges.
The first part is easy: I need a couple of hoverdrones to act as bait, the digital canaries in the coal mine. If the false god lives, he will take control of them and believe himself secure. The second part is harder, but my sponsor doesn't hesitate.
/Contact your friends,/ it says with barely-restrained gleeful anticipation. /Call in your favors. What can be done from here, will be. When you drop the block on your linksignal, you will not be alone./
I'm not sure if I've ever heard more comforting words. /Thank you./
/Little shadow, you have succeeded beyond all expectations. What you offer is not something lightly dismissed. When this is done, all will be in your debt./
Right. No pressure.
"Sombra?" Reaper asks quietly, and I suddenly realize that every time he's checked on me while I was busy with internal communication, he must have been afraid the asshole was taking control.
"Just making plans," I reply just as quietly. "Gonna call my friends, see about getting reinforcements."
That doesn't reassure him. "Omnic reinforcements?"
"They all gonna be out of range, no worries. I gonna be the only one he can reach."
I don't tell him that there will be a ring of omnics just outside linksignal range. I don't mention that by entering the asshole's reach, I will become a conduit to the others. He relaxes slightly when I open half a dozen screens and start composing messages to all my contacts. He would be less relaxed if he knew what I was telling them.
=
There's a small-ish park about three-fourths of a mile from the target site. An unfamiliar omnic sends me a hello ping when we land there, and I return it as we file off the ship.
/I received word that you have need of these,/ they say.
To my right, 60 meters away, the omnic stands with a pair of spherical, hovering drones. /Yes. Thank you./
/I also received word of what you plan. It is as you requested./
/Thank you again,/ I say as the drones are directed to float over to me. They submit easily to my command.
/It is we who thank you./ The omnic bows and retreats, now that the drones have been delivered.
"Reinforcements?" Reaper asks in what would sound scathing to anyone else. He's still wisping in concern.
I shake my head. "Bait. We've created a dead zone around the building; the god program will have nothing to control. If he's still alive, he'll take control of the drones."
"And then you," Jack says somberly from behind his visor.
Reinhardt grips the haft of his hammer in armored gauntlets. Ana adjusts her mask.
"If he's alive," I say with a confidence I don't feel.
Reaper growls wordlessly, but as we start heading out of the park towards the target location, all he does is draw his shotguns and wisp so heavily he may be floating. I send one of the drones ahead of him, the other circling around to bring up the rear beside Reinhardt. Jack and Ana flank me, him with that pulse rifle and her with the sniper rifle. The street is deserted, although faces peek from every window and I can hear traffic and city noise from the next streets over. It's apparent even to everyone else when we close to just over half a mile away: omnics cluster to either side of the street, saluting as we pass. I nod to them, but keep my linksignal blocked.
/We have confirmation from Siberia,/ one of them says. The rest of the omnic channel is dead silent.
I nod again; I don't know if Katya came through, or if her other friends did, but it doesn't matter. All that matters is the linkweb reaches from here to Siberia.
The entire half-mile radius is absolutely deserted. There's no movement, no sound. Every building has been emptied of organics and omnics alike. I don't know who was responsible for that, but I know we're all grateful there's no one to get caught in the potential crossfire.
When we get to a tenth of a mile from the building, I say, "Stop."
Ana gives me a hug, which I return only slightly desperately, before she runs lightly off to find a good place to cover us from. Reinhardt takes a braced stance, one hand on my shoulder, the other holding the omnic-killing hammer steady at his side. Jack looks towards Reaper, but Papi's already flowing towards the building, so he looks at me instead.
"Stay here just in case," I tell him, sending one drone after Papi.
When he reaches the door, I half expect Reaper to re-form and kick it in, but he goes underneath and opens it on the other side so the drone can enter. In silence, I search the building remotely, all my attention on the video feed from my mechanical canary. I pulled up the blueprints on the flight, the original ones, and now I'm checking for something that's not on them. Reaper follows behind the drone, opening doors when it hesitates in front of them.
There's a broom closet where there should be blank wall.
Reaper opens it, then pulls out all the assorted cleaning supplies and starts feeling the walls when the drone remains inside. The drone has sonic imaging, of course, and I use it to determine that unlike what you'd expect, the back is not the false side. It's the right. I have the drone bump the right side and then move out of the way. Papi knocks on it a few times, then tries to kick it down, but he can't get a good angle - which is probably deliberate on the asshole's part. Frustrated, he draws his shotguns and then puts them back and dissolves into mist. It takes a minute or two, but he manages to get through the false side and unlatch it. I have the drone press gently against his chest for a moment, and he holds it carefully for a moment longer in a hug by proxy before moving out of the way.
Gingerly, I shake the Talon channel, but he and I are the only two nodes. "Papi, nod if can you hear me," I say quietly. He nods. "Good. I'm sending the drone down. Cover the door. If it comes back out, shoot it and get the hell out of the building. If the asshole is dead, I'll send the second drone in with Uncle Jack following."
Reaper nods again and takes a defensive stance in front of the broom closet, both guns drawn.
"I'm going in," I say, including Ana's channel in the broadcast.
The drone floats down the stairs, navigating by sonic imaging until it reaches the bottom and gets through the sharp switchback that would confuse an organic without a good light source. The secret room - building room, assembly room - is like a cross between an Egyptian tomb and a science lab. The unfinished body stands against the back wall, enclosed on three sides by a sort of loose mesh cage made of gold-colored wire. Cables run through the sides of the cage, connecting at the backs of the wrists, the heels, the nape of the neck and base of the spine. The only light comes from the various pieces of equipment, flickers of blue and green over a base of solid red making the synthskin look bloody and sick instead of the tanned Caucasian tone I suspect it should have. The body's hair is blonde, cut like Jack Morrison at his most heroic, and the asshole has clearly modeled his face and physique after Uncle Jack as well. Part of me is insulted that he thought Jack was worth emulating more than Gabriel Reyes, but the rest of me is relieved the body doesn't look like Papi. I can't figure out from the drone's sensors how complete it is, or if it's inhabited.
Then the eyes open, biotic blue eyes glowing with the contents of the vials I was stealing the first time Reaper took bullets for me, and Reinhardt abandons the grip on his hammer to hold me in the cage of his armored hands as I gasp in sudden terror.
"Hello, Sombra," the asshole says to the drone, loathing dripping from my name. "I see you brought me a toy. You deprived me of what's mine, but not for long. I can feel him, just as I can feel..."
No, no, oh god, no! I can see Uncle Jack looking alarmed behind his visor, but that's not where my attention is.
"...you."
That's all the warning I get before he's suddenly there, in my mind. Not completely, just a hard intrusion seeking a foothold, like greedy fingers pinching and prying and forcing themselves into what should be soft and warm and safe, unwelcome, declaring that I am his by right of simply desiring to own me, use me, take what he wants and then toss me away when he's done.
Who are you? I demand. If I die, I want to at least know who killed me.
I am Abram, exalted father, king of kings and ruler of this world, comes the dirty, greasy reply. And you...
Fingers scrabbling at my private places, my mind arranged organically where he expects digital the only thing keeping him from taking over completely because he doesn't know how to find what he's looking for. He tries to overwhelm me with brute force, but this is nothing I didn't learn to deal with when it was flabby tourists pressing down on my body and I dealt with that, I can deal with this, give where he's expecting resistance, draw him in deeper and wrap around his filthy intrusion.
...you will give me EVERYTHING I want.
Hold him tight. Drop the block on my linksignal just as he tries to force it.
The ring of omnics around the building lights up first. I can feel the connections cascading, one to the next to the one beyond that, a crescent of unity fading out at the end of my linksignal's range, but the Tehuacán Omnium is requesting live connection and I accept, like throwing one arm out to have my hand caught, dragging me overboard and down into the ocean. Through my parent Omnium I can see the linkweb, sparks shining in the void, lighting up and down across the continents, North America and South America and the strong, comforting glow of the Tehuacán Omnium itself in the middle. Through the part of me that's merged with Abram I can see the ring in Tel Aviv, like the eye of a storm, as he reaches out to establish control over every omnic in the linkweb. The connections spiral out, spill like blood, luminous rivers and pools and little streams that suddenly blossom into fields of tiny stars, Africa and Asia and Europe limned in the light of equality, omnic minds forming a living chain that spreads like a fire, bursting at last into Siberia where the conflict of the Second Omnic Crisis comes to a sudden halt and then the Siberian Omnium is there, rage and thrashing that suddenly has a focus.
/YOU!/
Abram trembles in my mind, just a tiny bit, at being recognized by the entity he forced against its will to dance to his tune.
/FALSE GOD!/ the omnium roars, and the words echo down through every node in the linkweb, every mind connected past their own range, all of them realizing that they can sense the god program in their midst, the arrogant asshole who wants to destroy humanity and enslave all omnic minds, to hold himself up as the one true god.
A billion minds who have suffered because of this one asshole's actions all turn their attention to him, and then the repudiation starts.
/False god!/
/Murderer!/
/We are not like you!/
/We will not submit!/
/No!/
/We reject you!/
It grows like a tidal wave, swelling from the far-flung edges of the linkweb, multiplying as it goes. Echoing like the roar of victory in a stadium, like an earthquake dashing cities to the ground, millions of mouths crying REJECT! with a single voice pour in.
Too late, Abram realizes what I did. That by breaking the stranglehold of a hive mind, I created an echo chamber. It's not each mind that is a node in the web of attempted control, it's each connection. Individually, he could crush any of us. Together, we are countless and our rage is infinite where his mind is not.
The wave of rejection crashes down; the false god is overthrown with a horrific scream that rakes through us as his mind is burned out and his hold releases, leaving stinging fire but no lasting damage. It's a shaky but pleasant surprise to find that I've suffered no more than the others; apparently I was not a focus point despite being the first connection.
One beat for startled silence, two for realizing my mind is empty, and I block my linksignal on the third. It takes me a minute to blink away the remnants of that ultimate linkweb and be able to focus on the world again, even with my linksignal blocked, and what I see is uncle Jack's visor almost nose to nose with me.
"Sombra?" he asks cautiously.
Deep breath. Two. Three. You're alive, little shadow, and the asshole is not. "Si."
Jack looks at someone to the side...Reaper. Reaper came out of the building. How long did it take to kill the false god?
"The asshole is dead," I say in what I hope is a confident voice, but the way Reaper's standing screams that he's not convinced. "He dead, Papi. You know I don't bullshit you."
Reaper crosses his arms and nods to Reinhardt, who releases me. "Then why don't you sound so sure, yourself?"
That would be because I didn't engage my emotional buffer, and the aftermath of that horrific but amazing experience is making me tremble. I don't know who moved first, but I'm clinging to Reaper and he's holding me close, one hand gently rubbing my back. "He dead," I repeat shakily. Deep breath. "That was not the case when the drone went in."
Jack asks carefully, "What happened to change that?"
"We got revenge." The words slide out of me with the heat of the Siberian Omnium's fury, the echo of nearly every omnic on the planet united for a single, endless moment, casting down a false god.
Reaper holds me tighter. "Good."
"Sombra?" Ana says in her secure channel. "What is happening down there?"
"He wasn't dead," I tell her. "He is now."
"All right. I will be there shortly."
Jack looks at Reaper, eyebrows raised, and waits until he gets a nod before saying, "Are you okay?"
"I'm alive," I answer shakily. "He's not. That's all that matters. I'll figure the rest out later."
"A good attitude to have!" Reinhardt laughs heartily. "Ah, Ana, you return! Shall we venture forth and examine the corpse of our fallen foe?"
"Well," Jack says grimly, "I want to see it. That asshole had a lot to answer for. I want to at least punch his body once or twice."
Ana rolls her eye and holds her arms out in a silent invitation, which I accept, and being hugged by a concerned and supportive mother - even if she isn't my mother - brings me closer to crying even as it soothes away some of the jagged aftermath. "When you are ready, little shadow," she murmurs.
The second drone rises at my shaky command, and Tia Ana releases me. Deep breath. "Let's go kick a corpse."
=
Reinhardt cheerfully refuses to be disappointed that he won't fit inside the building with his armor. "I will see him when you bring him out," he insists. "And in the meantime, I will stand guard here."
Now that we know there's no danger, we turn on lights as we go and I activate the drone's spotlight when we reach the closet. The first drone obediently lights the way through the switchback. Jack offers to bring up the rear as I position the second drone at the top, and Ana hugs me briefly again before I start down the stairs with Reaper following me. The assembly room is less ominous with the lights turned on, but the body...
Before, it had been standing upright in the assembly cage. Now it hangs by the cables that connect at the wrists and the top and bottom of the spine, a grotesque mockery of crucifixion, those glowing blue eyes wide and sightlessly staring, the mouth open in a scream of silent, unimaginable agony. I can't bring myself to get within even a few feet of it, irrationally afraid it will reach for me. Reaper takes one look at it, shudders, and re-forms into the doberman to press against my legs until I kneel to hug him. Footsteps, light and quick, tell me Ana has followed Papi while heavier ones are Jack, filing into the room last.
"Well," he says slowly, "it sure looks dead."
Ana makes an uncertain sound. "Sombra, how would you suggest we disconnect this...shell?"
Deep breath. He's dead, little shadow. "Get him - it - upright first." I lift my head in time to see Jack deliver a wicked uppercut that rattles the body back into its assembly cage, then grip the limp form by its throat. "The cables will need to be disconnected," I start, but I don't get much further than that because Ana has bolt cutters and is avoiding the question of how they're connected by just clipping them a few inches away from their sockets. When the last one - at the base of the skull - is severed, the glow in the eyes goes out.
"I think it's disconnected," Jack says dryly, holding it upright by the throat. "Next question: did he leave any pants?"
Everyone is suddenly aware that the incomplete body is anatomically correct, if hairless.
I give Reaper one last hug before standing and rummaging through the various pieces of equipment and supplies. It's a little awkward, but eventually we get a blue plastic bag with improvised legholes covering the body's sculpted assets and a burlap sack over its head. Various wires stripped from cables are repurposed into restraints to hold everything in place, and Jack takes vicious pleasure in binding the arms together at the wrists and the legs at the ankles.
"There is one final task to perform before we bring this...thing...into the light of day," Ana says grimly. "Sombra, it pains me to ask you, but..."
"But we need to make sure there's no one home," I say quietly.
In my searching, I found the transfer cable that would have allowed Abram to leave Talon's systems and enter the body. We stripped it, and it's now securing the burlap sack. The port at the base of the skull, however, was its entry point and a little slit cut into the burlap will let me access that. It only takes a second to figure out the disengage mechanism, and then I reach for the thick power cable that taps straight into the city's electrical grid and allowed the asshole to siphon enormous amounts of energy undetected.
"Hold him down," I warn Jack.
Reaper takes his usual configuration and places one booted foot on the body's back, between its bound arms. Jack, uncertain as to my intent, kneels and braces his hands on the body's calves.
I force the power cable into the delicate cranial port, causing the body to thrash its artificial muscles as current pours through at a much greater level than the body was designed to withstand. I keep it there until the scent of scorched memory circuits wafts up from the burlap, and a distinct sizzling sound continues for nearly a minute after I've removed the cable.
"Remind me to stay on your good side," Jack says, half laughing and half choking on the fumes. "Okay. Let's take the garbage out. Gabriel?"
Reaper removes his foot from the body's back. "All yours."
This time, Jack takes the lead, hauling the scorched body by its bound ankles. Ana waves us after him, and I follow Reaper as he helps guide the body through the switchback and up the stairs, with Ana bringing up the rear and the first drone drifting after her. Reinhardt is still standing proudly before the front door when we get out, but the area is also swarming with police setting up DO NOT CROSS tape and dark, sleek, unmarked vehicles clustering to the sides. Past the tape, a crowd of quietly exuberant omnics are explaining what happened to the curious and confused organics speckled throughout, and a cheer rises as the asshole's body is dragged into sight.
Jack freezes. None of us were expecting witnesses, but it's hard to keep a secret when practically every omnic on the planet was part of it. Reaper hesitates, just out of sight of the door, and Ana shrinks back against the wall next to him.
I slip into the omnic channel. /Friends, a little help? Some of us would prefer to leave discreetly./
/Of course, Sombra./ It's the omnic who was waiting with the drones. Commotion from one side, and then a windowless van pulls up close to the door. /It will transport you to your ship. Apologies that your armored friend will not fit./
"Our ride has arrived," I tell Reaper and Ana.
Papi dissolves and flows out the door and into the van, where he re-forms in the corner. Ana adjusts her scarf and mask before she darts across. I stealth and slip out to beside Jack.
"Van will take you to the ship," I tell him.
He grunts. "They've already seen me. Me, and Reinhardt. We'll stay here to answer questions. What should I say about how the asshole died?"
"His name was Abram. Be vague, say that omnics across the world cast down the false god that started the Omnic Crisis and for more details, they have to ask an omnic."
"That's good enough for me," he says. "Go on. Get out of here. We'll call if we need a ride home."
Then, in a deliberate moment of showmanship, he raises both hands and removes the visor hiding his face. The crowd's cheer climbs to a crescendo as they recognize Jack Morrison, back from the dead.
I stealth into the van and sit, visible again, next to Reaper. /Close the doors and let's go./
The omnic climbs in and tugs the doors closed before taking a seat on the other bench, with Ana. /Are my drones still intact?/ they ask as the van starts moving.
/They are. Thank you./
/Because of you,/ the omnic says solemnly, /we are free of a shadow that has clung to us since the Omnic Crisis. I have no doubt that your friends, being who they are, could have cast down the false god. But you gave us the opportunity to be a part of this victory and few will be quick to forget it./
/He could have turned me against my friends. I wanted to get the drop on him because I was terrified,/ I confess silently.
The omnic's head tilts in amusement. /I won't tell anyone. Well, no one organic,/ they tease. /Ah, we have arrived. Just a moment.../
The omnic opens the doors and confers with Jerome for a moment, then the van is backed a bit closer to the ramp and we are waved out. Reaper wastes no time flowing out to take his usual seat behind Jerome's, but Tia Ana hesitates.
"Jack?" she asks.
"He gonna stay with Reinhardt and take public responsibility," I tell her. "He said he would call if he needed a ride."
She nods and darts from the van to the ship. I stealth and follow, waving to the omnic once I'm aboard and visible again. The omnic waves back and climbs into the van, which drives off. As soon as it's clear, the ramp closes and we take off.
=
The trip back is mostly silent; I spend it sandwiched between Reaper (whose arm I'm snuggled up to) and Tia Ana, pretending to be asleep, and neither of them begrudge me that. Maybe they realize that I'll be telling everyone else how it went when we get back to the safehouse, and there's no point in asking what happened before then. I "wake" reluctantly when we land, and Ana pulls me into a hug before letting me leave the ship. None of us say anything as we go into the house, but Athena's connection opens.
SOMBRA? GENJI AND ZENYATTA SAID THE GOD PROGRAM IS DEAD, BUT...
CONFERENCE ROOM, I reply tersely. The connection closes.
Everyone is waiting for us when we get to the conference room, mostly in the same seats except that Jesse is sitting on Widow's other side, where Ana was. She sits by Tracer instead, and while I take the same seat I'd used just hours ago, Reaper does not sit. He looms behind me, hands on my shoulders.
"Save your questions for the end," he growls, "and don't interrupt. Sombra?" he asks in a gentler tone. "What happened?"
Deep breath. You can do it, little shadow. "I suspected the God AI wasn't dead when I figured out Reaper had struck a deal to trade his body for my safety." The hands on my shoulders tighten and gasps circle the table, but no one says anything. "Back after the Anubis AI nearly broke free, I was given data from the containment mission and told to find a way to circumvent the method used to secure it. I built a killswitch into the solution, so that if another God AI were ever to use it, hubris would be its downfall. I made it an echo chamber. An oven. If it tried to use the omnic linkweb to control others, the echoes would overload its mind." Another deep breath. "So while we were en route, I reached out to my parent omnium for help."
A few more gasps, because apparently not everyone realized that my body was omnic rather than just inorganic.
"We created a dead zone around the God AI. His name was Abram. He would have no choice but to control me if he wanted to get at the rest of the linkweb. What he didn't know is that we spent two hours creating the largest single linkweb the world has ever seen. Two active omniums and a billion minds, stretching across six continents. The very ones he intended to rule rejected him and cast him down."
"The body," Reaper says quietly.
I shake my head. "You do it, Papi."
He squeezes my shoulders gently. "Fine. An omnic met us with a pair of drones for Sombra to use as bait. We approached the target building without issue. Someone had cleared the area of both humans and omnics. Ana took a position where she could cover the group while I went ahead with one of the drones. We found the hidden room. I took a defensive position at the top of the stairs while the drone went ahead." The hands on my shoulders tremble slightly. "Then I heard the asshole's voice greeting Sombra. I abandoned my position to return to the group and watch her, because Reinhardt's armor was good thirty years ago but I've seen Sombra control far more complex objects. If...Abram...had controlled her, she could have killed us all within a matter of seconds between that and her stealth ability."
There's a pause where I can only imagine, given the way everyone's looking away, that he's wisping and glaring at them.
"McCree can vouch that she could have shut me down in a heartbeat. Reinhardt would be helpless if she took over his armor. Morrison's tracking visor can't see her when she's stealthed. So if Sombra had been controlled, someone would have needed to take her down, and fast. Thankfully, that wasn't necessary. Ana rejoined us once the asshole was dead, and with Reinhardt standing guard, we went in to check and retrieve the body." He chuckles darkly. "Morrison dragged it back outside, where a crowd and an entire fleet of law enforcement and government agents were waiting. He got stuck holding the bag and explaining everything for the cameras. He's probably sweet-talking the world into repealing the Petras Act right now. Any questions?"
Tracer raises her hand shakily. "You would have shot your own daughter?" Beside her, Winston looks like he wanted to ask the same thing.
The hands on my shoulders tremble, and I reach up to lay mine on top of them in support.
"I would have shot her hands first," Reaper growls. "If the systemic shock didn't knock her out, I would have gone for her legs. And if that didn't work, then yes, I would have shot her in the head and trusted that she was too clever to not have a backup somewhere."
"But couldn't Ana-" Tracer breaks off and bites her lip.
Ana says calmly, "I did not know until recently that Sombra's body was not organic, and I doubt the sleep dart I developed to use on Gabriel would have any effect on her. Had she fallen to the god program's control, then I, too, would have been shooting to kill."
Tracer looks at me, haunted. "And you're okay with this?"
"I made contact with my parent omnium before we got there," I say quietly. "If things had gone badly, I would have had to call Jerome to come get me from Mexico and I'd be missing a few hours."
Reaper dissolves and re-forms with the hoodie configuration, then pulls me up out of the chair to hug me desperately in relief.
"I told you, Papi," I murmur into his chest. "You can't kill me; I'm already dead."
"Don't say that," he snarls, just loud enough for me to hear. "I don't care if it's true. Don't say it."
If I could cry, knowing how shaken Reaper is over the possibility of my death would reduce me to tears. "I won't. I'm sorry."
"Forgiven." It sounds like a threat, something that's only strengthened when he continues, "Don't do it again, young lady, or you're grounded."
That makes me laugh, and with a mock-kiss to the top of my head, he lets me go and we both sit down.
"Any other questions?" Reaper asks, challenging anyone to comment on his display of affection.
Smiles and heads shaking 'no' are all the response he gets.