5367/Lamentablemente tuyo

Lamentablemente tuyo
Date of Scene:	11 July 2017
Location:	Overwatch Earth <OWE>
Synopsis:	After Reaper's attempt to discipline her, Sombra still thinks there are a few more things to be said.
Cast of Characters:	Sombra, Reaper

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Sombra has posed:
    It had been some maintenance required at the arrival of the Horizon Lunar Colony. But then again, what do you expect when nobody but gorillas have been there for a while? The Concord members have been working most of the night in order to get things up and running, and only once the solar panels were up and running with the power storages charging did Sombra allow herself some rest. 48 hours of travelling, constantly watching for the stowaways... it had exhausted the hacker, perhaps not so strange as she couldn't give that task away. Nobody can keep a digital eye out like she can, after all.

    So pardon her for looking a bit tired as she puts the finishing touches upon the teleport functions. Some nearby storage rooms by the vehicle bay have been claimed by Sombra, getting them all set up with the equipment she'd gotten from the Concord. But there's also one additional teleporter room that she didn't tell the others all about. There might be intrusions in this place, so why not be ready for such a possibility? That's the room Sombra has been working on after getting a few hours of shut eye. A lone teleporter in a small storage room, locked like all the others. It's better to make sure nobody unauthorised can make use of these without her knowing. As well as put in a few additional functions to the room.

    Humming softly for herself, Sombra turns on her radio. The Flotilla captains aren't around right now, some of them are sleeping, others are working in a different area. So this is the perfect time for some payback...

    Standing outside the teleporter room the hacker brings up a screen with one hand, and raises a coffee mug towards smirking lips. "La venganza es dulce..."

Reaper has posed:
Where Gabriel still alive, he would've thought twice about taking a teleporter from someone he just nearly asphyxiated - as part of 'bringing her back into focus'. He'd take time to make sure she was back on his side, that she was balanced once more on his team. But Reaper? Reaper did not concern himself with such mortal concerns any more. He was arrogant in his inability to die - so far - and that arrogance made him far less cautious than he was while 'alive'. Simple steps, like dropping concussive grenades on mutants with animal senses or setting off micro-charges around someone who could 'see' through tremors in the ground just never occured to him anymore. He just ate the pain and walked forward, Death Incarnate.

Which is precisely why he falls into Sombra's trap. Stepping onto his end of the pad, arms raised and crossed over his chest as he waits for the transit; His form, his function, not quite compatible. His arrival heralded by a stuttering increase in power as the teleporter pad has to account for something that is - and isn't. Something that doesn't quite hold form, changing from moment to moment. A swirl of smoke that builds from the receiving pad, curling upwards and spinning like something between a miniature tornado and wave swell before Reaper fades into view. A low, rasping growl.

"Repositioning."
And then he's there, a black smoke slowly curling about his form as he .. floats off the pad, disoriented. The sterile bone white mask twists, his entire body turning with the motion into a slow spin. And? It's dark, amigos. It's very, very dark.

"-Sombra-." He begins.

Sombra has posed:
    The room is just as dark as the soul of the former Blackwatch commander. If he has a soul left, that is. It's hard to tell after the stunt he pulled not long ago. A stunt that now has consequences.

    Silence and nothingness is all the reply that Reaper gets as his form floats inside the airtight room. Oh, there's air in there all right, even if he doesn't need it. But the vents leading into the room are all closed, sealed by highgrade materials that can be found in airlocks. It's hard to tell just what's going on inside the room. At least until some tech comes to life.

    A holovid projection flares to life in front of Reaper, and a familiar shape greets Reaper with an overly friendly expression he's seen many times, all along with a fingerwaggle with delicate titanium nails. "Hola, Gabe~" Sombra sounds almost more cheerful than usual as her projection steps forward, canting her head up at the man where he floats. "You said we were done talking about this, but... I don't believe we aaare~" Here she raises her coffee mug to her lips again, taking a sip as her eyes are set on him. Eyes full of cunning. "So... /do/ you have anything to say to me, /Gabe/?" She's waiting while she gives him a chance to talk first and react before she continues.

Reaper has posed:
The mask twists again, then tilts away as the hologram flares to life. Whatever else he was beneath it, apparently it still took a moment to adjust to sudden illumination. It doesn't help that Reaper is - by this time - slowly rotating into an upside down position. His legs float loosely beneath him, his cowl-jacket-hood thing loosely flared. It'd look really neat if he wasn't still turning like the world's clumsiest ballerina. A slow, annoyed growl rolls out of his throat at Sombra's usual attitude, before hands reach down towards his waist; The pull slow and methodical, so as to not upset his balance even further. A single shotgun aimed loosely in the projection's direction - the other hand spread behind him, as if he were preparing to catch a ball thrown at him blind. He waits for a moment as the slow rotation brings him into alignment with the wall - and squeezes.
BOOM
The Reaper is thrown backwards, SLAMMING into the wall. Metal groaning as his claws grab purchase, lose and scrabble to grab it again. His other hand opening to let the smoking shotgun float away, the mechanism already beginning to dissolve without direct connection to the undead terrorist.

"Sombra." He begins, his raspy, reveberating voice darkening slowly. "What. Do. You. Think. You. Are. Doing?" Each word is dropped like a tombstone down a well, ending in a snarl that's more rabid than usual.

Sombra has posed:
    A heavy and exaggerated sigh leaves the hacker's projection, and she shakes her head. "Go ahead and try if it will make you feel any better," is all she says. She'll go back to sipping her coffee all calmly, observing him as he attempts to get some degree of control back. Let him fire himself into the wall so he can grab it. The projection still remains. "You know," she begins when he asks his question, "I wonder if I should even answer that considering you didn't answer me last week... but eh, fine. Unlike you I'm /nice/," Sombra relents with a shrug. "I put you into this special teleporter room so we could talk some more, because we have unfinished business after that stunt you pulled. Sure sure, I could always tell el comandante that you nearly killed me... but where's the fun in that when I can deal with this myself?" A smirk crosses the woman's lips, and she steps on over to where Reaper is by the wall, her hand reaching out to the wall, flickering just slightly as she touches it.

    "You have no idea, do you? How easy it would be... You don't need air to breathe, but still..." Her eyes glance up towards him, split eyebrows arched. "There are things worse than death. Sometimes death can be kinder. You should know all about this, Gabe."

Reaper has posed:
There is a long, low hiss from the Reaper as he orients himself while his protege - the Talon asset speaks out her complaints over his 'disciplining'. And quite suddenly dissolves, the smoke twisting in and on itself as it attempts to move in the zero-g environment as well; Curiously, it appears he can be disoriented by the lack of pull. After a moment the black material swells outwards, tickling along walls and along the floor as well. Hunting the smallest crack to escape, and to bring this wrathful wraith forward in a far more direct manner-
-Only to reform again, arms pinwheeling briefly before he can get his claws anchored again. Pulling himself down until his feet are at least brushing the ground, that sterile bone white mask revealing nothing of his thoughts.

"Death passed you by with but a warning; Had I the mind too, you'd be withered husk streaked with rust. Your response to my mercy is.." A low, low growl. And a surprising answer. ".. Adequate. I would have waited until I was already in orbit. This pitiful shell won't hold long - and I don't run out of ammo." The groan of metal as his free gauntlet flexes, the cowled head turning towards another wall. Considering, perhaps, just how thick the material is. But even more surprising, he doesn't pull those hellfire shotguns. There was always a reckoning coming. "Far, far worse things to do to a person than merciful death. Endless things. What do you want, Sombra...?"

Sombra has posed:
    Even as Reaper dissolves into the hellish smoke, Sombra's projection stands calmly there, taking yet another sip of her coffee. "The place is completely airtight. For now. The material is meant to withstand more abuse than you can hope to unleash as well." So sit still and calm down, will you?

    The speech about death has the latina roll her eyes in an obvious manner, and she turns her head to glance over her shoulder at him. "Are you /done/ rambling?"

    Then he asks her what she wants, prompting a tug of one side of her lips. "First we're going to talk about what I can do. The room you're in right now? There are two ways out of it. Let's discuss the first way out of it. It's through the ceiling, leading to a series of tubes... which leads straight out into space itself. What do you think that would be like, Gabe? Lost out there for eternity, unable to die... just swirling as smoke among the stars... I don't know, but I would prefer death to such an existence." Her expression almost looks... pitiful. "Nobody to prattle to but yourself. Being more alone than you are now." The projection walks towards him, her eyes narrowing as she reaches him, extending a hand to place it against the cheek of his mask. "All it takes is one push of a button..."

    Her hand moves... and then she presses one digital finger to where his nose should be. "Or.... you can be good, Gabrielito. Do you know how to be good, hmm?"

Reaper has posed:
There are people who see the world in shades of black. Evil, good, and somewhere in between. And then there are people who see the world in reds and blues - what a person can do, and what they can't do. Will changes, can doesn't. Gabriel - Reaper - had always tried to focus on the red and the blue. What can he do, versus what will he do. What was necessary to the mission. The sterile skull mask turning upwards to look towards the ceiling at the mention of the tube, as if to spot the hidden recess waiting to draw him into an infinity lost amongst the stars. Well, not an infinity - eventually he'd be drawn to something. But how long would his mind last in that eternal expanse, forever undying? Or would something in whatever he is now finally break down and allow him to rest? A low, growling snarl exits the mask at the holographic boop, for the Reaper does not compromise.

Which is why the Reaper had to get out of the way. A clawed gauntlet reaching up, pressing on a very particular part of the mask as clawed hands grip it. The whirr of screws retracting - the wet sound of metal extruded from bone. A hiss of condensation, wisps of black smoke and trickles of ichor trailing down a.. well, we'll call it a chin. Eyes open, all of them focused for a moment. A faint, wry smirk - and time to admit he was caught. She was well taught. "... buen hecho, hijita." Begins Gabe, sucking a long slow draw of air through the many places air can enter. The mask left to float for a moment, before his smirk becomes a frown. A single clawed finger lifted. "No more. You're distracting me, si? I have a mission to finish. I'll play nice... you'll play nice."

Sombra has posed:
    The snarl doesn't do much as Sombra lets her finger linger on the mask. And she simply smiles as Gabe removes his mask. Ah, what a silly man... wearing masks in a literal sense. "Of course I'm good, I'm the best. That's why I'm here, sí?" That's probably as good as she's going to get, isn't it? "You're not the only one who can pull together deadly stunts. Besides... what kind of person would I be if I shot my friends into space?"

    Suddenly the projection disappears, leaving Gabe all alone in the darkness. At least until things happen in the teleporter room. First the lights turn on, revealing blast doors, marred by the shotgun shots fired earlier. But there will be little time to study them, because shortly after the blast doors rise up, and the gravity? It returns, a sudden sensation as everything is pulled down towards the floor once more. Better hope he's got his feet on the floor by now.

    A hiss of machinery on one wall opens up a door, and in steps Sombra, still holding her coffee mug as she walks over to the corner where Gabe is. "So what do you think? A proper way to deal with intruders who try to make use of our teleporter without permission, no?"

    While she's there, she reaches down to pick up the white and grim mask with her free hand. "I don't know if you still sleep or not, but ugh... 48 hours with coffee and keeping a watch for those stowaways? No es divertido..."

Reaper has posed:
"Safer."
Comes the simple answer to the question about shooting friends into space. Safer - with all the horrible things that implies. Boredom, loneliness, lack of access, and so forth. When the gravity comes back on, Gabe is lucky to have his boots brushing along the floor - his knees bend to absorb the shock, causing him to stagger again, but he manages to hold his balance. Releasing his grip on the wall as he straightens out, twisting his neck to work the kink from it. Reaching out with a claw to pluck that sterile white mask from her hands as he speaks.

"Good start, but not everyone fits through a hole in the ceiling." He says, before the grin slips away. Chin rising slowly. "Por que no duermes? We're going to need you at a hundred percent. Nothing ever lasts, si? As for the stow-a-ways.."

He lifts the mask back up to his own head. Letting it catch on the edge of his neck guard; The familiar whirr of screws sealing it once more over his broken visage, the slow trickle of smoke cutting away. ".. Death has come."

Sombra has posed:
    "If they're small enough to fit into this room, then they will fit through the rest of the system, all the way out to space, Gabe. Relajate, you honestly think I wouldn't think about that?" Sombra asides to him, letting him pluck the mask from her hand. As for why she didn't sleep? A sigh leaves Sombra as she raises the mug near her mouth again. "Too much to do onboard the ship after the stowadays comprimised the power. I had to keep it balanced and watch the hardware, making sure it didn't overload in some places. I can sleep now that I'm done here," she assures Reaper, looking and sounding far less dramatic than he does.

    As a matter of fact, a yawn leaves Sombra as she leaves the teleporter room, and she mumbles tiredly as she leads the way. "I trust you have enough experience dealing with gorillas after you got me the data from Gibraltar, no? Keep an eye out for them, we haven't located all of them as the sensors are busted and need to be replaced." Something they will do later once they've gotten new wiring and materials. "Go ahead and assess the situation here, Gabe. I sent you a couple of documents. I think I'm going to crack open some of that weird space food and get a nap while I can. Wake me if the wi-fi goes down or something..." she states, the last sentence ending in a yawn.

Reaper has posed:
"If the wi-fi goes down, I'll just unplug a thing. That's how ti works."

Grunts Reaper, his growling voice utterly deadpan as he watches Sombra walk her way off to find someplace to sleep. Before he mentions, voice rising slightly in a snarl.
"And my name.. is Reaper."

Finally, it's time to pull twin shotguns out of thin air, feeling the familiar weight of them settle as a pull against his biceps. Familiar as shackles, something he'll never be rid of. At the very least, though? He'll have a chance to murder gorillas. And perhaps stow-a-ways.
Good times.