legionworld | I can hear your pulse racing from here

Entry tags:

I can hear your pulse racing from here

Who| Reaper, Widowmaker and Sombra
What| Team Talon back at it again with the white vans
Where| Sombra's habitat safehouse
When| obscenely late night meetups after Widowmaker finishes getting situated
Warnings/Notes| NA, will add if the creep squad needs them

As it turns out, Amélie is right.

It's been roughly two days since Sombra last slept, and she's been pushing hard to clear the last few checks on her to-do list before they're shipped off into action against the UP. By the time the clock circles around into single digits— against caffeine, determination and raw perseverance— Sombra's out cold: draped listlessly across the couch, Amélie's visor fixed firmly to her head, taloned nails limned with violet where they've managed to drag a holographic screen down into the mess of a floor.

But she's not without a contingency plan. Insurance in the form of Gabriel Reyes, who Sombra's made certain to demand stay nearby just in case Widowmaker's arrival happens to come with the gift of vandalism.

Vandalism roughly translated meaning: cleaning her living space without permission.

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The visor may have always given her an edge at knowing that there were others around, making it easy to detect if she was being followed, but she had been trained by the best Talon had to offer given the investment they put into her. Her mental map of Legion World helped her find less traveled and perhaps even less known ways to the habitat deck and from there the shadows were her friends as were high paths to reach Sombra's biome undetected.

Once inside, Amélie paused as the hot, humid sea air swept over her, the sounds of waves caressing her ears. She drew in a deep breath, taking in the scent of salt. Mexico - she should have known. Was she seriously the only one that had not made her little piece of Legion World a reflection on some level of her life? Regardless, the coast was beautiful, the beach looked inviting, but not so much as the house she could see.

As she neared the structure, focusing upon it, the floor plan formed in her mind, allowing her to take note of all entrances and exits. She couldn't tell where Sombra was inside, but her new power didn't give her the ability to know where people were, just the physical layout of an area.

Letting herself inside quietly, Amélie paused again to listen. Sombra either had to be deep in some project or asleep. Hopefully, the woman was asleep; she likely needed it. It took no time to learn which was true and an amused smirk touched her lips seeing Sombra effectively asleep facedown on a keyboard. Hadn't they just been talking about this earlier in the day?

She started to head over to her sleeping companion before suddenly pausing with a foot in the air - a foot that had just been about to step on a discarded piece of clothing. Eyes narrowing, she took in the... disarray of Sombra's house and all the--

Reaching down, she picked up that which she almost stepped on - a discarded shirt - and brought it close to her face only to pull it away quickly. Soiled laundry. On the floor. Everywhere from the looks.

"Non, non, non... This will not do," she whispered, not wanting to disturb Sleeping Beauty. Keeping the shirt dangling from the ends of her fingers, Amélie went in search of Sombra's hamper or something to collect all this disgusting filthy clothing in. And so, she spent the next few minutes methodically cleaning up Sombra's dirty laundry without disturbing the one responsible for the mess.

How could a person live like that? ~~Easy answer: It's Sombra.~~

Trying to sense Widowmaker's presence is nigh impossible, so Reaper has taken to waiting for her to make her presence known instead. As she's picking through Sombra's laundry, he strides slowly down the hall with footsteps loud enough to inform Widowmaker but not enough to wake the slumbering hacker.

He stops in front of the open door, watching Widowmaker clean up and he's this close to shaking his head. Widow should already know how this will go: Sombra will wake up, make a fuss, they'll bicker for a bit until he butts in, and the next day the room will be a mess again. He's not their caretaker so he says nothing; they can deal with it when it happens.

Only giving her a look of acknowledgement, he kicks at the leg of Sombra's chair.

"Wake up."

Whether it's the strength behind that kick of his foot or the fact that Sombra passed out in the middle of work her mind had been fully attuned to, she comes sputtering to life the second contact is made with the couch beneath her, jolting fully upright with a snort: "—what? What. I'm awake."

Doubtful, if the half-lidded stare she's squinting narrowly at her surroundings are anything to go by.

And then she realizes how barren her floors seem to be.

"Gabe, you were supposed to be watching her!"

Amélie didn't even pause when Reaper walked in, still collecting the last few pieces of laundry - all of them - only glancing up when he kicked Sombra awake. She clucked her tongue at him. "You should have let her sleep; she needs it."

Finished with the soiled clothing, she set the hamper down before coming over to deftly pluck her visor off of Sombra's head. If any hair was pulled in the process, it was minor and unintentional, though the way she sat down on the opposite end of the couch with her back to the arm, long legs taking up the center seat, and immediately began running diagnostics on the delicate equipment meant Sombra's irritation was unimportant to her. This wasn't the first time; it certainly wouldn't be the last. It was almost comforting in its own way.

"Cleanliness is next to godliness, Sombra. Try not to live in filth." Her eyes flickered up. "Even if it is your own."

Edited 2017-03-26 05:13 (UTC)

While he doesn't argue that Sombra could use the extra five minutes of shut-eye, it'll just be even more needless effort that the woman will expend by being...stressed out by Widowmaker's obvious distaste for her state of living. He just grumbles wordlessly under his breath, standing between them as Widowmaker made herself comfortable.

He won't say he missed this, but there's a strange sense of ease as they're grouped together again. It feels complete. Even with Sombra's complaining and Widow's lecturing.

"Enough," he says, a word that he's uttered one too many times to interject. "What was your route?"

"In Dorado I am a god." Sombra snaps back petulantly (tiredly), leaning around Gabe's heavy frame where he's placed himself between them to— catch a glimpse of a woman that isn't even paying attention. Ugh.

Her legs unfurl from where they've been tucked up for the last few hours, palms braced against the side of the couch and stretching with every vertabrae along her spine where it's fused to metal. The plating's stiff. Protective. That weight doesn't shift easily on its own.

That got her to look up for a second before turning her gaze back to the visor. What delusions of grandeur Sombra had.

"Mon Dieu, we are not even in Dorado," she muttered as she continued to check the visor for any malfunctions, damage or alterations to it. But instead of letting Sombra respond to that little barb, she smoothly shifted to Reaper's question. It was more important anyways.

"From the Crew Quarters, I headed..." What followed was a very exact description of the path she took that was convoluted and complicated that it was neigh impossible to completely follow without a map. She even used a section of the ventilation system to bypass a heavily trafficked area. About halfway through her directions, her hands stilled on the visor and she seemed to be staring off into the distance (or deeply inside depending on perspective) until she got to the Habitat Deck.

Then her eyes moved up to look at Reaper as she finished. "No one followed me."

Sombra is ultimately ignored. She can do whatever she wants— lean on him, whatever, as long it's not interrupting him. That being said, it also paints a humorous picture where dark, tall and brooding is standing in as a sort of resting post for his pet cat.

He also remains silent as Widowmaker maps out her entire route, although him trying to follow it in his head is impossible. All he wants to know is how well she's adjusting to the map, and how she's utilizing whatever power she may have acquired in this trek. She's still getting used to it from the looks of it. Out of their entire group, it seems only Sombra had little to no trouble with adjusting, seeing as nothing notable has changed about her from what he can tell.

"Good," he replies, seemingly meeting her gaze. "Abandon any regular routes when rendezvousing here. We can't afford to create any patterns."

Just in case anyone is watching. The Legionnaires are undoubtedly busy with their own agendas, but there's still the pesky ex-Overwatch agents to take into account. There's too much suspicion being cast onto them, and while he'd muscled through it (with Widowmaker as well), that's not the case for Sombra.

"How much do you know of the plan?" Again, to Widow. The glance over at Sombra is now where he assumes she is to fill in any of the blanks that he may have missed.

Spine stretched long, sleep scrubbed from tired eyes with the heel of her hand, she buries her face against Reaper's back as she continues to talk. A gesture that's less about either her or Gabriel's comfort level, and more about punishing him for daring to play referee.

"Nothing."

Edited 2017-03-27 09:43 (UTC)

"Easily done. I can chart at least ten different ways to this location." And soon she won't have to pause to analyze the map in her mind. At least she had already learned how to push its presence from the front of her thoughts when she wasn't making use of it.

There was still a few more minutes left on the diagnostics, so Amélie set it down on the back of the couch and proceeded to make herself a bit more comfortable by drawing the elastic from her hair so she could run her fingers through the long dark locks and massage her scalp. A brush would be nice, but she was dissatisfied with basic one that had been provided to her in her quarters. Eventually, she was going to need to buy proper beauty supplies.

"Precious little," Amélie corrected Sombra's assessment. She wasn't clueless. "Save for Sombra's saccharine facade to hide her wickedness and the interdimentional crisis this place is facing. What part are we playing, mon capitaine?"

He nods, and continues to ignore the weight pressing against his back because honestly, she's light enough that any amount of weight she decides to lay on him doesn't really bother him. More upsides to being an enhanced super soldier. Great.

"We play the part of the Good Guys."

There's almost a hint of disdain, but he's had plenty of time to warm up to the idea. So instead, it just sounds a touch sarcastic.

"Legion World is the size of a moon, filled to the brim with those who are much more capable of running an organization full of extremely enhanced beings than Overwatch or Talon. Armed with advanced tech and a strictly enforced No-Kill rule, we're outnumbered and overpowered. You know of the Chronoblivion, and its intentions, so until it's dead, we need to align ourselves with the Legion."

He glances over his shoulder.

"Our initial plan was to sell Legion secrets, should they have any. Use the profit to buy resources and weaponry that is otherwise illegal to obtain on Legion World. No such secrets exist, as far as we know. Regardless of the method to procure funds, our objectives remain the same: Destroy Chronoblivion, and kill the ex-Overwatch agents when their guards are down; take advantage of their crippling morality as they continue adhering to Legion rules."

It sounds simple, but the fact that everyone is still alive proves just how difficult this job will be. Not to mention, there are a few things that Reaper is not aware of...that only Sombra knows.

Edited 2017-03-28 03:16 (UTC)

It's less fun when he ignores her— when they both do— which means by the time Gabriel's finished giving his speech, Sombra's already slunk back into her own space, coiled up with her knees against her chest. Watching. Thinking.

Like she always is.

"Basically? You're here to make friends with all the other children." Who knows, maybe if they're lucky, someone will think Widowmaker is capable of being saved. Soothed. It's an entertaining idea, if nothing else.

"Leave the rest to me."

It sounded an awful lot like they wanted her to completely trust Sombra and her ability to dig up dirt, to give them leverage into a better place where they could operate the way they wanted. And whereas Amélie trusted in Sombra's ability, she'd been unable to completely trust her dedication to Talon since Volkskaya. She didn't know what happened then, but she knew that either Sombra was outfoxed by the Russian security systems or she'd had her own agenda. One option was far more likely and, though Amélie was a bit forgiving, Widomaker did not like having her kill stolen from her.

Her expression changed, taking on that look it did when she heard something she didn't like, as though she'd just smelled something unpleasant. "You are asking much of me; I can only fake emotion so much - even less now that I am barred from one of the few things that stirs warmth inside. Do tell me there is a planet in this galaxy that has big-game hunting that is actually a challenge?" Like hunting dinosaurs or some other dangerous creatures that these people don't count as 'sentients'.

She then snorted softly, hands running through her hair again as she stretched her legs out some, her foot inadvertently pressing against Sombra's leg in the process. "Perhaps I will take York up on his offer then, if I am to play nice. He seems like a good place to start aside from the elf."

Edited 2017-03-28 13:39 (UTC)

Reaper could be rolling his eyes so much right now, not like anyone could tell. He can understand a little, though. They all do on some level, though some more than others. Talon made very sure of that.

"It's a big galaxy," he says flatly, then he pauses a moment before adding on: "No one ever said we had to be chipper and affable. Treat it like a mission; go along with their plans, don't break any of their major rules under their noses. They're aware of our disposition."

As if anyone would even begin to believe Reaper was a good guy, on their own planet or otherwise. Just look at him.

Edited (p-p-p-p-prefix) 2017-03-31 03:35 (UTC)

Her heels are sharp— Widowmaker always did have a fondness for baring her fangs through symbolism— but if Sombra minds the weight of Amélie's heel, she doesn't say anything about it. Just lets Gabe talk, mulling over something while her lips go thin and her nose crinkles just slightly.

Amélie should do what she wants, within reason. Cope with the disconnects in her programming and the Legion's rules; Sombra's never been one to get in the way of her hunts. But...

"Try not to break his heart."

Offhanded, but there's something about her tone that seems serious for a change.

Point made, Amélie eased up on the pressure against Sombra's leg so it rested more comfortably, more familiar.

She nodded at Reaper, fully capable of treating it like a mission for it was one. If she was unexpectedly separated from her handlers, she was to take any and all action necessary to return to Talon as efficiently as possible... while acquiring as little damage in the process. Thankfully, the financial investment Talon sunk into her meant they hadn't removed her instincts for survival and self-preservation.

The words regarding York meant nothing to Amélie - if he were foolish enough to fall for her, he deserved the broken heart - but the tone certainly caught her attention. Eyes focusing on Sombra, she narrowed them slightly.

"You have an investment in him?" Perhaps she would heed Sombra's request. Perhaps she would dig in deeper. It really did depend on the level of interest here, both Sombra's and York's.

Like Widowmaker, Reaper also picks up on the tone, his head turning her way slowly. There's a certain solidarity in the silence that follows, as he lets Widowmaker ask the question they're both wondering. If he had to take a stab at who of the three would feel the most attachment to this world and what it had to offer, without question, he'd guess Sombra. He doesn't care what she wants, if he's being honest.

As long as he gets what he needs.

"What?" Sombra clicks her tongue as Gabe's mask ever so slowly turns her way, matching Amélie's critical stare.

One she can handle, but the both of them at the same time? It's a little one-sided.

"He's useful."

Bristling, she stuffs herself back against her corner of the sofa, bare feet tucked under her as if they haven't got the right to question her motives. Or at least not when her disaster of a natural habitat's already been disturbed. ~~Can't they see she's clearly suffering!!1~~

"You break him, I lose a contact. ¿Se entiende?"

"If he is so easily breakable, then he is not worth your time. Unless you are planning on using him as a sacrifice."

Amélie wasn't buying it. Sombra's defensiveness was more telling than anything. In fact, it made her want to weave York into her web a bit just to see what would happen. A spider needed to entertain herself some way when trapped in a place where the sanctimonious preaching was going to test her patience. What better distraction than playing with some prey?

"And if I break him and you lose the contact, you are not doing a very good job working undercover. Unless he knows and you are not telling us..."

Edited 2017-04-11 14:40 (UTC)

As much as he has his own suspicions about his teammates (some more so than others), he doesn't express them out loud. He has his ways of dealing with trouble when it comes down to it, which seems almost contrary to his obsession with sticking to well laid out plans, but if you really think about it? He's a big picture kind of guy. Stick to the mission, follow through with the objective, whatever it is...they're all end goals rather than step-by-step checkpoints.

If Sombra is going to screw them over in the end, well, he'll deal with it when it happens. It's not so much that he likes to give their most brilliant informant and hacker that could easily turn on them at the drop of a hat all this leeway with how she conducts her business, but he just isn't a micro manager. It's not his style. Anyone who works with him knows what they'll be getting into. They just gotta be smart about how to escape him should they cross him, and well, Sombra is excellent at that. Even he isn't so sure he'd be able to hunt her down.

"Drop it," he says to Widowmaker, then turning to Sombra. "You know what you're getting yourself into?"

A litle spark of warmth. The faintest shift in her expression, the brightness in her eyes when he draws the line in the sand an inch closer to Amélie than herself. A wire that's been wound tight across the conflict they've stuck out here: it feels like he's set some modicum of trust on her shoulders.

She should know that she's wrong.

"I always do."

And that, at least, is honest.

She didn't come here to screw them over, regardless of what Talon's strict programming might define it as. It's just...different. Necessary. They'll survive the disconnect, she plans on making sure of it.

She's so close.

Of course, Sombra knows what she's getting herself into. The problem was that neither Widowmaker nor Reaper truly knew what all that was. Eyes half-lidded, she watched the hacker on the other end of the couch. She would drop it. For now.

"Fine. I shall endeavor to show some restraint with York. Toys are not as much fun to play with when they are broken."

Some would probably think he favors Sombra in some ways, like a parent that gives their youngest child more leeway than the eldest. The reality is that while on a mission (even an incredibly extended one, such as this), Widowmaker is much easier to read, despite her having very few emotions to read. The less he has to think about it, the easier it is, and that makes her an excellent team member.

Sombra is a wild child, someone he has to give some room. She doesn't respond well to being micromanaged, which, again? Not his style. Not to mention incredibly inefficient. So it all works out for everyone. Widowmaker's apparent concern about Sombra's intentions isn't something he's willing to spend too long worrying about, as long as he's aware that there just may be something lying beneath the surface. Just gotta keep on it.

While he doesn't doubt Sombra has her own agenda, he's always had a feeling that she'd get nothing out of screwing them over anyway.

"Glad you've both made up," he drawls, head tilting slowly like he's rolling his eyes with it. "Any other concerns?"

"Nah. No tienes nada."

Aside from the mess that's now half-lost to the void, thanks to Amélie's efforts. But she won't pick at it, won't fuss. Draws her arms up and folds them across her knees as she surveys the rest of the trash strewn across the room the way a photographer might survey a dying jungle expanse.

"Might be for the best if we let Amélie get some rest."

Some real, human rest. A thought that's drowned out when Sombra yawns tiredly a split second later, still somewhat worn-through.

They've got a big mission ahead of them, after all.

"And you too, hermano."

"Yourself as well," Amélie interjected. "In that bed you claim to have but never use. Do not make Gabriel have to carry you to it."

Her own eyes surveyed the rest of the mess. She would take care of it in the morning, see to it that the trash is thrown in the bin, the laundry done and properly folded.

The way he just kind of stares at Widowmaker might be a look of disapproval, as if he'd never consider the thought of carrying Sombra like some sort of petulant child to her bed. But if she does end up falling asleep someplace shitty like a couch in an obviously uncomfortable position which would only hinder her performance during a mission... well, maybe. It's all very circumstantial.

Shaking his head a little, he turns on his heel to leave, ghosting down the hallway back into the bunker to try and rest. It's only a few more hours until sun-up, but the chances of him actually succeeding in getting sleep tends to be very low. Fortunately, experience of doing a lot with little sleep is something he grew up with his entire life in the army.

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I can hear your pulse racing from here

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