legionworld | [OPEN] You're Out of Touch

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[OPEN] You're Out of Touch

[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!]

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[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.]

I know you're out there, 'Spider'.

[Stay out of trouble, that's what York had said with a weary brand of concern in his voice. But he'd also told her that she was being watched, that someone— a stealthy little 'spider'— had information on her, knew her affiliations.

She knows she could be wrong: there might not be anyone nearby, and as she moves to check the area where she'd fired just a few seconds prior (pointedly ignoring curious Legion staff and concerned bystanders as they close in to make sure no one's been harmed) Sombra finally concedes that she might be.

Until she turns back on her heel and nearly slips on something dark and damp, something that vaguely looks like blood.

This time the look she casts around her is more direct and attentive. Focused. It starts there and ends a few hours later, with Sombra huddled at the far end of a more narrow corridor, tapping idly into the Legion's mechanical systems. This, by itself, isn't unusual: she's tapped the informational kiosks, the lighting systems, the mobile displays and everything else within reach for intel and entertainment so far— but this time she's manipulating motion sensors (ideal for pinpointing obstructions) and door systems set to identify any nearby movement. Sure, some unfortunate stranger might find themselves locked tightly in a corridor without any obvious means of escape, but Sombra's hope is that with a little luck, she might net something much more dangerous.]

[Patience was a virtue and only the best snipers possessed unparalleled patience. But in the end, a sniper is only as good as their discipline. Widowmaker had once been a premier ballet dancer; she discipline was beyond measure.

It allowed her to not move a muscle save for the slow, even breathing that was required to keep her body oxygenated. She made no reaction to the words spoken, gave no indication that she was even there and no further blood dripped from her wound as her pants absorbed it, the dark blood clotting enough to slow the bleeding to something nominal. Regardless of the people milling about and the sharpened gaze of Sombra, Widowmaker did not move. She simply followed the woman's heat signature, her yellow outlining her in her display as she watched her move.

When it was safe to move, Widowmaker continued to tail Sombra though she moved higher any time she could. At one point, she snagged a flag of some sort that had been hanging as she passed it, using the fabric to bind the wound on her leg while taking full cover inside a ventilation duct. And for the first time she realized just how much of an asset her mental map power was when combined with her infra-sight. She could move through the nearby vent system while keeping tabs on Sombra via her visor.

Which is why when Sombra ended up spending too much time on one system, Widowmaker propped her chin up on a hand as she laid stomach down on top of an exposed duct that was cutting through the corridor. What was she up to?]

[For a while, she's awake. Alert. Waiting with her back to the wall like a predator hunkered in tall grass...

Twenty minutes passes. Then thirty. She browses the net, squints her eyes, rubbing at them hard enough to smudge paint— and without energy to burn or a few spare drinks of liquid caffeine after a long, long day of hunting and exploration, she shuts her eyes. Falls asleep.

Wakes up with a start an hour and a half later when the system blares out in warning that she's caught something—

—a stray janitor, one that's wary and shaking by the time she checks her trap and lays into him with hard, biting threats.]

[Knowing just how heavy she slept when exhaustion took her over, once Sombra had fallen asleep, Widowmaker moved. She slowly sat up on the duct, stretching her injured leg with a silent hiss as the muscle protested the movement and the dried blood cracked, pulling on the wound. Legs dangling over the edge, she raised her visor and pulled out her omnicomm. A few texts were sent and she looked over the network to see what else was going on.

It was looking more and more like the only ally she might possibly have left until this passed was Marjara, assuming the elf hadn't been affected either. York was there, but York wasn't her ally. If something bad happened... like say Commander Reyes caught wind of a Talon agent and decided to come after her, she couldn't count on York to come to her aid if needed. She also no longer had a safe place to stay; the beach house was compromised with both Sombra and Reaper affected. It was one of the reasons she's grabbed her field pouch along with her rifle and other essentials when she'd briefly ducked back into it. Speaking of which...

Swapping her omnicomm (which was set on silent) for a ration bar, Widowmaker ate a third of it before she found herself staring more through Sombra than at her. She could keep this up for days, prepared as she was, but what about Sombra? How long could this really go on? The longer this continued, the longer the little sugar skull was around, the harder it was going to be to keep very real consequences other than the fallout regarding her cover being blown were going to be a factor. Assessment made it very clear that given current circumstances, she was to prioritize Sombra over Reaper. Reaper was an enemy of Talon... this Sombra was not. She was a radical free agent that had caught Talon's eyes. This was where she needed to be.

Also, Reaper could take care of himself even in his old Overwatch shell. Perhaps even more so now than what had become normal. Yes, this was where she needed to be. For Talon. For Talon...

Slipping from her perch, Widowmaker lowered herself down to the floor and approached Sombra as she slept. Eyes moving over her form, she took in the face paint and the terrible fashion up close. It was a good thing she gave off no body heat or that alone might have stirred Sombra from her slumber. Ten years... what a difference it made. Sombra might have terrible choice in clothing, but at least she had vastly improved over this florescent mess before her. No cybernetic upgrades, cheaper quality equipment, definitely designed for the hot Mexican weather instead of the more sensible style Sombra had shifted to once she had gone solo and then into Talon's grasp.

Reaching out, Widowmaker let the pad of one finger brush underneath Sombra's collar, near where it met the rest of her top. The motion left a tiny tracking device from the Legion's Espionage Squad's supplies hooked onto the fabric. Until Sombra found it, this would let Widowmaker keep even better tabs on her. And know where she was when the sniper was inevitably going to need to sleep. She also left a full ration bar and one of the little field pouches of electrolyte water on a flat surface where Sombra wouldn't miss them.

Without wasting another moment, back up onto the vent duct Widowmaker went. Good timing, too, as less than five minutes passed before that alarm went off. Shifting forward so she could get a better look at the screen, she nodded to herself. So that's what the hacker was up to. Sombra was going to have to try harder than that to catch her. She cared nothing for the janitor, but she was going to care about the security members that were going to investigate the area once that man reported what happened to him.]

Edited 2017-06-05 16:26 (UTC)

[It takes longer than it should (time ripples are causing more chaos than the Legion's equipped to efficiently handle, apparently) for a security team to arrive— prepared for confrontation, but as usual, not actively seeking it: instead it's Sombra that predictably decides to up the ante.

She draws on them as soon as she sees them, hissing out a low warning like an animal defending its den. The closer they get, the more likely she is to fire, in spite of their efforts to talk her down peacefully.]

[This was getting tiresome. What a wild beast Sombra was like this. It made Widowmaker long for the charismatic older woman that could talk her way out of a pen of hungry tigers. Who would have thought that?

Normally, she wouldn't care if Sombra killed a few guards, but the last thing Widowmaker needed was giving the judge a very good excuse to execute Sombra. Killing America would lead to more problems than it was worth, so the sniper decided she would directly interfere in this matter. But why bother wasting the ammo?

Widowmaker moved over to open an access panel on the wall up above the duct she was on, reaching into it to wrap her hand about all the cords within. Her visor slid back into place just before she yanked out those cords, shorting out some systems, but most importantly, it killed the lights. Plunged into darkness, save for the red glow of the 'eyes' of her visor, the security team was surprised not only by the lack of illumination, but by Widowmaker's sudden descent into the midst of them.

Efficiently, she looped the cable of her grappling hook about the neck of one, pulling it tight as she used a kick to drop the man to his knees and start to choke him out, his hands scrabbling at the cable. Her free hand grabbed the energy rifle of the other one, forcing it upward where the weapon discharged at the ceiling then followed it up with a knee to the stomach. Jerking the rifle free as that one doubled over, she brought the stock of the rifle down on the back of the head to make them continue that descent to the floor.

For a moment, she turned her head just enough to put more than one eye on Sombra, but she didn't say anything. The man stopped struggling in her grapple, unconscious, and Widowmaker let the line go slack, dropping him to the floor. These two would probably never realize she just saved their lives.]

[Those eyes in the dark— alongside the cool swiftness with which she kills— is enough to have Sombra stalling before she even opts to pull the trigger: whatever this is, it must have been the same glinting shadow she'd chased before. The one that's been tailing her for hours on end.

And as far as she can tell, it's helping her.

Green glints in the dark, a telltale skeletal patterning.]

Who are you.

[Widowmaker didn't move for a few seconds after that question before she cracked the Energy rifle to pop its power cord out. Her grapple remained attached to the ceiling, but she doubted in the dark, with only her visor and that glowing face paint as their only sources of illumination, Sombra would be able to see it. Just like she wouldn't see the cloth wrapped about her thigh. Shadow may be Sombra's name, but shadow was a sniper's lover.]

That is not important. I am backup. Do not abuse my presence.

Edited (Whoops formatting) 2017-06-11 08:20 (UTC)

Backup from who?

[Too stubborn to settle, Sombra presses because she can— because she wants to— because she feels a hard-edged demand to know more coursing along her unaugmented spine. Another step closer, and then another, determination imperceptible aside from that decreasing distance.]

Who sent you after me?

[The way Sombra slowly drew closer, as if maybe she moved slow enough it wouldn't be noticed, spoke volumes to Widowmaker. Others might be worried about the closing space between them with that SMG in Sombra's hand, but Widowmaker wasn't afraid - and that wasn't simply because she was incapable of feeling fear. She knew despite the posturing, the growling and scrabbling for scraps, the woman would not fire upon her again.]

Command is currently compromised. I am acting independently.

Command. [Sombra repeats, already thinking through the obvious options. Legion command is compromised— she's seen the proof of it herself on the network and every worried response that followed— but if this....woman is part of it, acting on their behalf, why would she attack her own people? Why would she defend Sombra? Why tail her at all?

That can't be it.]

I don't need your help. Or theirs.

[The only assistance she's ever directly relied on is her own, end of story.] Stay away from me, or I'll make you regret it.

Got it?

[Masked by the visor, Widowmaker rolled her eyes at that response. It was easy to figure out where Sombra's thoughts had taken her.]

I do not refer to the Legion, Sombra. There are others that operate here. [She dropped the energy rifle and tucked the energy core into her field pouch.] Even if Command was not compromised, I would still be here.

You are a higher priority.

Then maybe you should listen to your 'higher priority' when she tells you to back off.

[Her tongue clicks against the back of her teeth, sharp. Sharp as the rest of her, apparently, even without being seen.]

Next time, I won't be so nice.

[And with that— certain she can hide via her own camouflage (as though she hasn't already been thoroughly tracked)— Sombra disappears from immediate sight, invisible to everyone...except Widowmaker herself, apparently, darting off the way she'd come in search of somewhere else to hunker down. Somewhere less likely to attract prying eyes.]

[Widowmaker doesn't move when Sombra activated her camouflage; there was no need when her many 'eyes' could follow her without turning her head. A moment later, she drew in a hissing breath.]

Tu as d'la chance je vous aime bien, Sombra.

[Or she would break that inflated ego down by showing Sombra just how outclassed she was in her younger state. But for now, she would disappear into the shadows, continuing to watch and protect her target. Until she reverted to normal.

Would Sombra even remember what happened when she was Los Muertos again?]

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[OPEN] You're Out of Touch

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