[ Sombra watches the dot blow through one intersection after another. Wow, that thing's really moving. She glances at the bottom right corner of the map where the specifics about the bug's current location are displayed. The number indicating its speed rises and falls, but it never dips below a breakneck pace. Yeah, this definitely goes beyond worry. It's... desperation. All for a robot who can't actually die.
She shakes her head. So sentimental. The terse conversation after Ballistic arrives at his destination ( of course it'd be Rampart's shop; she's the best modder around this side of the Outlands, after all ) only emphasizes it more. Slouching deeper into her seat, she settles in for a wait. With any luck, Doctor Rampart won't be long—and then she can get to work finding out if Pathfinder saw anything he wasn't supposed to when he decided to play hero. The ops team should have cleared out by then, but you can never be too sure with Mauga involved. It wouldn't be the first time she had to clean up after him.
And if she has to, well—worst case scenario, Ballistic might have to make that manic drive back to Rampart's shop a second time.
—as if on cue, a metallic sound scrapes through the silence. Rampart's voice follows, a quiet mutter—"now what's this?"—along with some tapping noises so sharp she winces. "Cute little thing, ain't ya? But hitchin' a ride with Pathy here while he's conked out..." Rampart tsks. "That's just not on."
Another series of taps, almost like the bug's ricocheting off glass or metal. Then there's a very loud clunk. Rampart's words become much more muffled and distorted. Sombra has to strain to make out "that should do you for now" and the start of an electrical thrum—right before the connection cuts out completely.
Huh. With a wry scoff, she tries sending a few commands to the bug. None of them go through—as expected. Rampart sure knows her stuff. Not surprising either, given her reputation, but it's still a little annoying to have someone catch on so quickly. Especially within earshot of Ballistic. Still, what else would he expect a hacker to do—not hack?
But she's never been in a rush to fess up, either. As if she hasn't been listening in the entire time, she sends: ]
no subject
She shakes her head. So sentimental. The terse conversation after Ballistic arrives at his destination ( of course it'd be Rampart's shop; she's the best modder around this side of the Outlands, after all ) only emphasizes it more. Slouching deeper into her seat, she settles in for a wait. With any luck, Doctor Rampart won't be long—and then she can get to work finding out if Pathfinder saw anything he wasn't supposed to when he decided to play hero. The ops team should have cleared out by then, but you can never be too sure with Mauga involved. It wouldn't be the first time she had to clean up after him.
And if she has to, well—worst case scenario, Ballistic might have to make that manic drive back to Rampart's shop a second time.
—as if on cue, a metallic sound scrapes through the silence. Rampart's voice follows, a quiet mutter—"now what's this?"—along with some tapping noises so sharp she winces. "Cute little thing, ain't ya? But hitchin' a ride with Pathy here while he's conked out..." Rampart tsks. "That's just not on."
Another series of taps, almost like the bug's ricocheting off glass or metal. Then there's a very loud clunk. Rampart's words become much more muffled and distorted. Sombra has to strain to make out "that should do you for now" and the start of an electrical thrum—right before the connection cuts out completely.
Huh. With a wry scoff, she tries sending a few commands to the bug. None of them go through—as expected. Rampart sure knows her stuff. Not surprising either, given her reputation, but it's still a little annoying to have someone catch on so quickly. Especially within earshot of Ballistic. Still, what else would he expect a hacker to do—not hack?
But she's never been in a rush to fess up, either. As if she hasn't been listening in the entire time, she sends: ]
soooooo
good news or bad news?