[OPEN] You're Out of Touch

[vata]

Who| Sombra and you!
What| there's a small gang member roaming Legion World and causing trouble
Where| everywhere on Legion World
When| eh
Warnings/Notes| NA

I: QIÉN ES SOMBRA

[There's something amiss in Legion World— aside from the obvious hiccups in general time. A bright splash of phosphorescent green and pink, flitting in and out of public space. Eventually the little streak of color slows to a halt: runs clawed fingers across pristine walls, over statues and murals and statues without reverence, just an abundance of fixed curiosity, as though it's all so new.

And for her, it really is.

Across her face, glowing body paint cuts the shape of a stylized skull, making otherwise young features look decidedly more vicious. A notion that's punctuated by her predatory posture and the gun resting openly at her hip.

In front of a heroic depiction of the Legion's finest, she snorts to herself, quietly:]

Where the hell am I?

II: TAGGED TURF

[Graffiti. There's a lot of it, all over the less-used Legion World hallways— and the statues, and occasionally the floors. Variations of 'Tierra de Los Muertos' or 'Sombra', and a few iterations of the telltale skull pattern painted across her cheeks. Where she got the paint is anyone's guess, but she's putting it to good use while she can.

After all, why would anyone even waste their time trying to stop her?]

III: WILDCARD

[ooc: Want something different? Let's make it happen! Feel free to go ahead and place your character anywhere on Legion World and I'll have Sombra fill in— or message me on plurk at ladyavali for specific plotting!]

Comments

II

[goddamngrenades]

[ Monitor duty is still monitor duty- even if a third of the Legion is rotating through a sliding scale of their personal timelines. Work is work and for the moment York hasn't been effected at all (thank god) and has Delta riding shotgun to help him keep an eye out on anything. People not knowing what's going on, not knowing what to do or freaking out? He needs to be on his A game. That means a green chip embedded at the base of his skull and Delta's cool green code smoothing through his mind.

So far his patrol's been uneventful- and then the paint. Glowing, brash, and ominous. Who is Sombra and what the ever loving hell? He follows the trail till he finally catches someone at it and- something strikes him as familiar. Distantly. ] Hey, kid-

[ Because it has to be a kid, who else would it be. ] What the hell are you doing, man? Someone's gonna have to clean it up and I don't get paid enough.

[ He does, but he won't. Isn't the usual punishment making the tagger scrub shit clean? ]

[vata]

Me vale madre.

[The paint can in one hand's swapped off for her SMG with the other, raised and leveled towards him as a straightforward demand that he back off.]

There's plenty of other space here, vato, go bother somebody else.

[This turf? This is hers now: check the tags.]

[goddamngrenades]

No, pero me darás tu arma.

[ A little nudge with voice and will, and doesn't he sound reasonable? It can't be that bad just handing it over, especially since he's not armed. Right? Right. Of course that's when the jawline, the voice, and the stance sort of click into place and... ]

Azucar? Mija what the- Aw shit. You too?

[vata]

[She isn't thinking about it when her gun tilts more passively sideways, turning upwards as she starts to close the distance with a somewhat open expression—

And then stops. Bristles.

Azúcar? Mija? Who exactly does this patrullero think he is? The SMG comes up again, pressed against the dead center of his chest— more bark than bite. Her crew isn't here to back her up, after all: she needs to make sure he understands she isn't here to be messed with.]

Back off.

Your Choice

[araignee_du_soir]

[From the first moment Widowmaker saw the graffiti (it was hard to miss), she knew that something very unwanted had happened. Los Muertos. Sombra. Fingertips touched the paint - still tacky enough to not be completely dry - and she knew she needed to move quickly. This was going to make things far more complicated than they needed to be, and there were few things more annoying than cover being blown way too early and completely out of the control of the one undercover.

Making use of her supernaturally heightened agility and her mental map, Widowmaker made it to the beach house and back to the ventilation system fast enough that the paint still hadn't completely dried. She needed to find Sombra immediately before this... revelation caused certain people to let their emotions get the best of them.

Sombra was a key asset to Talon. She was vital to their mission within the Legion. She was... someone Widowmaker did not want to be without in this sea of time. So, Widow's Kiss in place on her back, visor down and active, the assassin moved through Legion World, out of sight, up high, until she found Sombra.

And there Widowmaker perched on an overhang, hidden in shadows enough that only at the right angle would the light reflect off of the red lenses of her visor. Ominous yes, but necessary. She was prepared to shoot those that she had to in order to keep this... stupid Los Muertos girl safe. Including Sombra herself if necessary.

Lucky for everyone, she left the lethal rounds back at the house.]

[vata]

[She's already hacked into the system to pinpoint where maintenance supplies are kept (paint), where the least foot traffic comes into play, and most importantly in the immediate timetable: where food is kept. Meandering through corridors unseen, there shouldn't be a niggling itch at her spine. A feeling that she's being watched somehow, more and more persistent as time goes on.

Eventually she stops.

Turns, scans her surroundings with a critical eye and then paces in search of something— a security camera, a stranger standing still for too long— and then she spots something faint. Something crimson and glinting just out of the corner of her vision.

Naturally, she pulls out her gun and shoots directly at it.]

[araignee_du_soir]

[Following Sombra wasn't hard. It was as if the woman was unaware that she could be kept track of through walls and certainly when camouflaged. Which, if Widowmaker thought about, it probably meant that Sombra really wasn't. Then again, the woman always had been rather overconfident in her abilities.

Eventually, they hit an impasse when her target noticed she was being watched and Widowmaker had to decide if she would reveal herself or not. Given then glowing face paint, the odds were that while this Sombra had probably heard of Talon before, she hadn't been approached by them. Conclusion: it was pointless to reveal herself or her purpose in stalking the woman. It would only lead to--

Supernaturally heightened reflexes and the fact that she was watching Sombra intently were the only reasons Widowmaker had already moved from where she'd been by the time Sombra squeezed the trigger, using the sound of the gun to cover that of her grappling hook. The problem with a submachine gun was that they weren't the most accurate weapon unless one was good with it; Sombra was very good. Had she known right where Widowmaker had been when she fired, the sniper would have been well out of the way by the time the bullets sprayed the wall. But as the shot was less of a shot and more a spraying of the general area... that was a lot harder to completely avoid, even if one was unnaturally enhanced.

There was only a gritting of teeth and a quick intake of breath as one of the bullets tore through the side of her thigh. It wasn't deep enough for the bullet to lodge but not shallow enough to be called a graze. Despite the pain - something that wasn't unknown to her - she wasn't concerned about it; she didn't bleed the same way other people did and she could doctor it herself. When she had the time, of course.

Widowmaker landed silently on a support beam about twenty meters away, inverted with her grapple line about her leg supporting her while her other limbs held her in place. She couldn't directly see Sombra from where she was at, but her visor made the woman's heat signature blaze bright and true, even through the beam, as she tipped her head back. For all Sombra could tell, she'd been shooting at a ghost, a figment of her imagination... unless she noticed the few droplets of blood - dark and old looking despite its wetness - on the floor a ways away.

Maybe that wouldn't be noticed, as the trill of automatic fire would definitely draw others to the area.]

II

[zippity]

[It'd been a few weeks since she'd last seen Jack, which meant that Lena found herself focusing more on day-to-day Legion life and less on trying to find a way to keep him engaged. It's not hard to feel herself slipping a little -- the team dynamic was different, so it was to be expected.

And then there was the matter of Azúcar, but that was a whole different sort of problem -- one that was currently managing itself. So she tries instead to think about how to move forward, and cross the various looming bridges when they come.

That is, until she starts to notice things changing. One thing chronal disassociation had done for her was keep her informed when something wasn't quite right with the immediate vicinity. The ripples in the timestream were almost visible if she started at one spot for too long. Thankfully, the accelerator kept her where she was, but it was hard not to be at least a little startled.

Before she can think on how to address it, she trips on the hallway full of graffiti.]

...huh?

[Not a bad style. How curious. She'd heard of Los Muertos before in passing international news feeds, enough to know what they were, and their link to various rumored scandals. Enough to know of Sombra, their link to technological espionage, and thievery. Or, in this case, one woman's thievery.

She stands at the piece nearest her and frowns. She respected graffiti, as an art form and form of protest -- but Los Muertos was a different story.]

[vata]

Like what you see?

[Sombra, of course, knows better: there's no missing that dour frown, or the sharp angles of Lena's pose— or the peculiar angles of whatever strange tech seems to be strapped to the other woman's chest. Still, she plays it off with a sharp stare and a sidelong glance, roaming closer like a shark swimming through crystal clear shallows, talons curled.]

[zippity]

[Lena half-turns to give the other girl a little more of her attention. She isn't expecting the perpetrator to come forward, so when she does, she can't help but fold her arms loosely.

She can't deny that she likes the direction she was going in, but--]

--this ain't the place for that, you know. They give us the biomes for a reason.

II

[tiny_justice]

Fareeha is finally venturing out and exploring this place, which is turning out to be pretty vast. It's strange and she feels a little odd not having a schedule or, really, either of her parents here, but she's old enough and she remembers her training and she's too curious to stay in one place.

Which is how she happens on this scene; turning a corner, seeing Sombra and a stylized sugar skull spray painted in acid neon green across the wall. Fareeha frowns; it was so sad that someone felt the need to deface property like this, like they had too much ego and went about smearing it elsewhere. She walks up and brushes her fingers over it; the paint's still wet in places, it's new. She looks down as she tries to wipe the paint off, that had't been a good idea actually, and then notices the cans.

Thinking maybe she can find a clue behind who did this, who this Sombra was, she crouches down and picks up a can and turns it over in her hands. Nope, no additional clues or indications where it came from or who was using it.

[vata]

"You lost, hermanita?"

It's a cool call from behind her, Sombra's own arms folded as she watches this peculiar little kid meander— unbothered— through her territory. Most people know what tags like this mean, even ones as young as her, but then again they're not exactly on Earth: it's possible she's never even been told.

[tiny_justice]

She stands and turns quickly towards the voice, still clutching the paint can in her hand. She was indeed incredibly lost - not even in the proper universe as far as she could tell - but one look at the other girl and she knows not to give away any information that might be used against her.

"Why did you do this?"

She motions to the tag behind her, pointedly ignoring the question.

II

[agnominal]

[ He's finally left his biome, now that he knows what it is and, to some degree, what's going on. The whole 'being able to fly' thing? Still a little strange. But he's working on absorbing the weirdness of this place a little at a time.

What he didn't expect was to see something that reminded him so vividly of home. A girl in the hall, the aerosol smell of spray paint, and what is very obviously some sort of gang sign being tagged in the center of the hallway.

No. No, he just got here, and this is all kinds of trouble. He wants no part of it.

So, Sam does what he'd always done: duck his head, avoid eye-contact, and attempt to keep walking past. ]

[vata]

[Only that's not going to work when he's already been spotted— the snap of Sombra's attention is vicious, her footsteps quick to follow. Tall as he is, it means she's able to keep up, looming only a couple of steps behind, stare fixed directly on his back as though he'd be able to tell he's watched long before she speaks up:]

Going somewhere, vato?

[agnominal]

Yes.

[ He doesn't look back. She can tail him as long as she likes, until she gets bored, whenever. He knows trouble when he sees it, or thinks he does anyway.

It's even done him the courtesy of wearing a neon sign. ]

1

[bachido]

"You don't know either?"

The one-eyed twelve year old sharing the hall with her looked bewildered. And he was, at everything. The woman's face paint and strange machines. These halls with their darkness outside the windows, a night he'd never seen. The fact that a second ago, he'd been on his way back up the path home, trying to beat the sunset home to his mother.

[vata]

"Wish I did." It's a hard huff, exhaled through her teeth before she turns to face him. Los Muertos might not be the most inviting gang known to mankind, but they were good to her— and she was just a kid once, too: she doesn't have it in her to be cruel outright to anyone that young. "It'd make things one hell of a lot easier."

She purses her lips, glances around one last time.

"Guessing your parents aren't here, either, if this isn't where you're from."

[bachido]

His face didn't crumple at the mention of his parents, but his lip quivered with holding back the impulse to.

"Father died a long time ago. And Mother hasn't been well enough to leave home during the day in years."

Kubo peered out a nearby window at the night, every terrible possibility playing itself out in his too-inventive imagination.

"I don't know what she must have done when she woke up and I wasn't there, but if she leaves home to look for me I -"

He knew that what he said probably made no sense to this stranger, but now admitting his fear in words at all was letting it win. His panic mounted, tears building in his lone eye.

"The Moon King will get her. I'll never see her again."

II

[snoutback]

Even in his youth, Mako is large enough to be at eye level with a piece of graffiti that someone probably had to work their arms out pretty hard to put as high up on the wall as it is.

Land of the Dead, the plugs in his ears offer him a quick and dirty translation. Pretty edgy, but that's the draw. He'd be a hypocrite to roll his eyes at something like that, with his heavy combat boots and black cut-off covered in patches for bands that sound even edgier than what's painted up there.

He knows what he likes.

The black bandana and Ray-Bans aren't a part of his usual wardrobe, though. And Mako reaches for the latter as he squints through them at the muted (to him) colors, thinking taking them off for like two seconds to get a proper look at the artwork couldn't possibly hurt anything. Jamie certainly isn't around to tell him otherwise.

After a quick conspiratory glance to the side, he lifts his shades.

...Nice.

[vata]

"Not bad, right?"

She's lurking at his back when she asks, a wry, twisted little grin on her painted face. Normally she'd show her fangs a little more eagerly for someone stepping in, but— well, he looks the part of an interesting catch: unafraid, dressed to bite back, eager to step in closer for a better look.

She likes this one already.

[snoutback]

"Not many artists where I'm from."

And not a whole lot to vandalize, even if you did get your hands on some spray paint. There's a brief moment in which Mako hastily drops his sunglasses back into place, but otherwise he isn't at all taken aback by the sudden voice, casually glancing over his shoulder to get a look at its owner— and she's metal as hell.

Guess there's no point in asking if she's the one who did it.

"...Mind if I take a picture?"

I

[hallaifyouherd]

"You're new, then."

The voice comes from a little ways off and down the hall. For all that Sombra appears a jackal looking for something weak to prey upon, she feels less than no intimidation as a result. And no compulsion to keep her distance.

In fact, she's already starting to move closer, at an even and unhurried pace.

"This is Legion World. Or, that's what they told us all when we arrived."

[vata]

"Saw the name stamped on the archives."

Preliminary hacking all done in a rush, a means to find someplace to burrow in and call her own. A safe space, as much as she understands it.

Or at least the start of one.

"Still not sure what the hell it's supposed to mean."

But if you're willing to tell her, stranger, she'll play nice...

[hallaifyouherd]

"What it amounts to is that there's a force threatening to destroy all of existence, and we've been drawn here to help." Her shoulders lift and roll in a mild shrug.

"They assume, somewhat rightly so, that most of us like living and want to see existence continue. So here we are. Some of us with more power than we arrived with...and some considerably less." Here, her lips tick upwards.