Something To Prove [Overwatch x Bakugou!Reader]

Chapter 7

Hey guys, I'm so sorry this story has been updated slow. I really should just focus on one book at a time and get it to near finish before I try to move to the next one. And this chapter is not as long as I'd like it to be but it's just something to give while I get myself together lol.. enjoy 😊

The lab was dimly lit, the hum of machinery and the occasional beep of monitors creating a sterile, almost oppressive atmosphere. Deku lay motionless on the table-like machine, various wires and tubes connecting him to the equipment that monitored his vitals and sustained his altered physiology. Moira's nimble fingers expertly manipulated the delicate instruments, her mind focused solely on the task at hand. To her, this was merely routine maintenance—a necessary procedure to ensure that their asset remained in optimal condition.

Sombra leaned against the wall, her expression hidden behind a mask of indifference. She watched Moira work, her thoughts racing beneath the surface. The sight of Deku, so vulnerable and altered, stirred something within her, a feeling she quickly pushed aside. Empathy had no place in Talon, and she reminded herself of that fact constantly. Still, she couldn't help but draw parallels between Deku and Sigma, both victims of Talon's relentless pursuit of power.

"How's our little science project holding up?" Sombra's voice was casual, almost bored, as she broke the silence.

Moira didn't look up from her work, her hands moving with precision. "He's stable," she replied, her tone clinical. "The modifications are integrating well with his physiology. There are some minor adjustments to be made, but nothing out of the ordinary."

Sombra raised an eyebrow, her gaze flicking to Deku. "You ever wonder what goes on in that head of his? I mean, he's not exactly... normal anymore."

Moira's lips curved into a faint, almost imperceptible smile. "Normal is a relative term, Sombra. Midoriya is an extraordinary specimen. His body and mind have been pushed beyond typical human limits. What he thinks or feels is irrelevant as long as he serves our purpose."

Sombra pushed off the wall, walking over to the table where Deku lay. She studied his face, noting the faint lines of strain and the hollowness in his eyes, even in unconsciousness. "You know, it's kinda sad. All that potential, all that power, and he's just a pawn in someone else's game."

Moira's hands paused for a fraction of a second before resuming their work. "He chose this path," she said, her voice devoid of sympathy. "And now he must walk it."

Sombra let out a soft chuckle, shaking her head. "Yeah, because he had so many choices, right?" She leaned closer to Deku, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Hang in there, chico. Maybe one day, you'll find a way out of this mess."

Moira's eyes flicked to Sombra, her expression unreadable. "Sentimentality doesn't suit you, Sombra. Focus on the mission."

Sombra straightened, her mask of indifference firmly back in place. "Yeah, yeah. Just making conversation, Moira. Don't get your lab coat in a twist."

The two women continued their work, the tension in the room palpable. Deku remained unconscious, oblivious to the world around him, a silent testament to the price of power and the cost of ambition.

The room was quiet, save for the soft hum of the machinery and the occasional rustle of paper as Moira reviewed her files. Sombra stood before the holographic interface, her fingers deftly swiping through Deku's memory files. The flickering images projected in front of her were disjointed, fragmented pieces of a life that seemed so far removed from the present.

She hesitated slightly, her brow furrowing as she navigated the labyrinth of memories. Each one was a glimpse into Deku's past, a mosaic of moments that had shaped him into the person he was today—or rather, the person he had been before Talon had gotten their hands on him. Sombra's curiosity was tinged with a trace of empathy, though she would never admit it openly. She understood all too well what it meant to have one's past erased, rewritten, manipulated.