Overwatch - Deception (Sombra x Reader)

Chapter Three - Making a Decision

In the distance, gunshots filled the air. The horrific sound of pulse munitions blasting from their weapons, shredding through metal and flesh. The sky was grey, not with clouds but with ash. It was probably a sunny day underneath all of this war. You stood behind the pillar of a hotel entrance, watching down the street ahead of you as enemy OR-14s scanned the perimeter. The omnics had already wiped a lot of the military forces from this sector, now they were just cleaning out survivors. Units like those had a nickname in your battalion, 'the throat cutters'. With a deep breath, you took one last glance at the OR-14s, memorising their positions, before quickly running into a nearby alley with a sigh of relief. Thompson, your sergeant, stood there, anxiously awaiting news.
"Well? How bad is it?" he questioned, wanting to know what fresh hell he'd have to face next. You wished you could give him good news, but there were no happy endings in war.
"Bad. Throat cutters patrolling every street, four OR-14s are dug in at a position about a hundred metres ahead. We'd get slaughtered before we got anywhere near 'em" you reported, causing the sergeant to sigh and curse under his breath. For all either of you knew, you were the last surviving military operatives in the entire city. The continuing gunfire suggested otherwise, but still, it had been hours since you'd seen or even heard any news of other survivors.
"Damn...we have to get past 'em...rally point bravo is to the south, if we're gonna rendezvous with whoever's still left then it'll be there. Alright...follow me" Thompson ordered, priming his pulse rifle and heading inside a nearby building. With a final anxious glance you followed him, completely convinced that you'd die in this city. Cautiously, the two of you moved, building to building, shop to shop, slowly making progress down the street without attracting the attention of those OR-14s. The sergeant took a position behind an upturned bookshelf, inside the wreckage of what was once a renowned library. He had a clear view of the street, and a good angle to ambush the omnics. But as you moved to join him, you unknowingly made a terrible mistake. As you stepped down onto the ground, a loud cracking sound filled the air, and you looked down with horror to see thousands of shards of broken glass from the former library's windows. To any human enemy, this move would have been harmless, but these were omnics, with acute auditory sensors. And just as you had feared, within a second the OR-14s turned their heads a hundred and eighty degrees to stare directly at you with soulless red eyes.
"Kid! Get down!" Thompson shouted with fear. The next few seconds were a blur as a hail of plasma rounds flew over your head. You dove down to the ground in a blind panic, crawling forwards in a desperate attempt to find somewhere you couldn't be shot. But behind you, you heard a heart-stopping sound, and your throat closed in fear. You turned slowly to see the grenade rolling right towards your feet. And suddenly...

You awoke suddenly with rapid breaths, sitting up so fast that you gave yourself a brief headache. It was raining outside again, you could hear the splatter of the drops on the windowsill. And in the distance, you could also hear the faint sound of hover-engines. But all of that paled in comparison to the thought of your nightmare, even thinking about it made you shudder.

With a deep sigh, you swung your legs over the bed and stood up. There was no way you were getting back to sleep now. Since your coffee shop meeting with the elusive 'Sombra', you had spent the rest of the day trying to clear your mind. As much as you felt drawn to her, the nightmare proved that you were far from ready to pick up a rifle again. If I can't bury the past, then how can I move on? How much help would I be in this state anyway?

All of these thoughts plagued your mind as you stepped over to a nearby counter and poured yourself a brandy. With a long gulp, you stared out of the window at the stormy night, the flashes of lightning no longer provoking the same awe that they used to.

"What good can a world-weary killer who's afraid of his own past do for the world?" you wondered aloud.

Even now, you could hear Sombra's voice in your head, whispering into your very thoughts. You could hear her talking about the survival of Overwatch, about how that once great organisation still works in the shadows to protect those in the light. It all sounded so perfect, but you couldn't help but wonder if you even deserved such a chance at redemption. What right did you have to claim yourself as a hero?