"Believe me, I don't need anyone to tell me to shoot him right between the eyes." History or not— real or not— Sombra doesn't like competition when it comes to fellow manipulators.

She is, after all, a former member of Los Muertos: protecting her turf is always personal.

"Locksmith had it just as bad: he was trapped in his own body, controlled by his AI." She can still recall it, those brief glimpses into his coded misery, his hands bloody as they bared down on an inflexible wall of code. "Together they hijacked my cybernetics, forced a confrontation that as far as I could tell was meant to keep us stalled." There's a brief tilt of her head towards fried circuitry, what's usually brilliant gone dark.

"He was probably working with Locus. Cortana and I did what we could to try and help your friend— and then we left."

As far as choices go, theirs were limited at the time.

"Mirage seemed exhausted. I don't know what she saw while she was in there, but I know that like me, it didn't change her."

The bottles clatter together as her grip shifts just slightly. "As for everyone else, I don't know the details."