There was a lot to think about. Road-Hog wasn't a big fan of thinking. It took a lot of time away from his primary hobby – shooting. So although he had Mercy healing him, and Reaper flanking him, and Widowmaker covering him, and Junkrat watching his back, he did his best not to think about allegiances, and simply to fight, and shoot, and win.

He was in his element.

There were a lot of defenders in King's Row. Whether or not they worked for this so-called Sombra he did not know. But so long as they were trying to kill him he was more than happy to try and kill them back.

It was slow going. They had passed the first "checkpoint", an easily-defended courtyard watched over by the statue of an Omnic monk, and were now pushing forwards. Widowmaker was picking off their enemies from a vantage point, while Soldier 76 and McCree were leap-frogging each other, picking off their enemies in an alternating rain of accurate bullet fire. He hardly felt needed.

But he was. He was the meat-shield, he understood that much. Mercy remained behind him, knitting together his flesh and blood and bones with her healing-staff. For every bullet that hit him another wound was repaired, restored. His bulk protected his allies. There was nothing that could bring him down.

It hurt. He did not want to say anything for fear of seeming weak, but each bullet stung, and no matter how many hit him he could not ignore the sensation that he was dying a little more each time…

'Up there!' Someone called.

He wasn't sure who had given the warning, but he saw the enemy; a local criminal preparing to throw a grenade down at them from a balcony. He lashed out with his hook and yanked the human down towards him. He caught the grenade – it had already been armed – and tossed it in the direction of their enemies. An explosion sent them reeling backwards. He tossed the person aside; they were no longer of any concern.

Junkrat appeared beside him. 'Can you believe these pommy bastards think that Australians are the criminals?'

Road-Hog didn't answer. He allowed his healer to get closer, Reaper at her side.

'We can't get through.' Mercy sighed. 'There are too many.'

'We can.' Road-Hog scowled. He wasn't much of a leader, but he felt he had to be strong. Everyone else might be good at dealing damage, but he was the front-man. He was the one leading the charge, one way or another. He had to find a way.

'How?' Junkrat asked. The tall, wiry Australian was drenched in sweat, and had tossed his shirt away to reveal a set of abs, glistening with sweat but dirty from a lack of showers.

Widowmaker launched herself forwards with grappling hook, firing a single shot as she flew through the air and landing by their feet.

'Yes, Hog man, how do you suppose we get through?'

More of the enemies were appearing at every moment. Soldier 76 emptied a clip, reloaded, and emptied it almost immediately. He and McCree had stopped advancing and were now retreating. There really were too many enemies. Reaper, in desperation, tossed one of his hellfire pistols towards the throng of enemies. It hit someone's head, and he shouted, 'Ow!'

'We need to find a way around.' Road-Hog said.

It was, perhaps, the stupidest thing he'd ever said. He felt stupid even saying it. The others glared at him in annoyance, and no more than Mercy. She deserved to be the leader of the group, not him. She was respected, useful, and an immutable addition to any team. And yet she was listening to him.

'There are no ways around, King's Row is a prison, blocked off from every direction by…'

'What about underground?' Road-Hog asked.

Mercy stopped mid-sentence, and looked at Widowmaker, who looked at 76. None of them had an answer.

'Is it worth trying?' McCree asked. 'Because, ladies and gents, I think I'm runnin' low on bullets. At this point, any idea is an idea worth tryin'.'

Soldier 76 nodded. 'The cowboy has a point.'

Widowmaker turned on her infra-red scanner as they continued to retreat, turning away from corner after corner, allowing their enemies to press on.

'Road-Hog, what were you before the world ended?'

He paused at this, not sure whether or not to tell the truth. He hoisted his grappling hook over one shoulder and replied, coyly, 'Fisherman.'

Widowmaker gave a smug blue smile. 'Well, whether or not that's true, you must have been to England. How else would you know about the underground?'

Road-Hog shrugged. He must have heard about it from Tracer on the way over. She knew all about London, he knew nothing. Or perhaps it was just a lucky guess. He did not question his instinct.

Junkrat did.

'What's the underground?' the Junker asked. He still looked dazed, perhaps from the knowledge that he had lost his soul, but was at least aware enough to care about their current situation.

'According to my current scans,' Widowmaker took a shot and beheaded an enemy who was foolish enough to poke around the corner, 'there's an underground tunnel to our right. If we take it we can appear behind our enemies, a hundred meters or so beyond the enemy. It's worth a try.'

Junkrat grinned. 'You're damn fuckin' right it is. Let me provide a distraction.'

Road-Hog watched as his long-time partner in crime leapt onto the wall and, spider-like, climbed up a series of widened cobblestones. Widowmaker used her grappling hook to join him on the roof. They looked down at their allies.

'Go, already, we'll keep them distracted.'

Road-Hog turned right. The main road fell away behind them – here was deserted. Soldier 76 and McCree took turns feeling uncomfortable.

'This is a bad idea,' 76 muttered.

'What a good place for an ambush,' McCree agreed.

Nonetheless they continued onwards, and swiftly came across the entrance to an underground subway tunnel. Soldier 76 raced ahead, his genetically engineered legs much faster than any of the others. The sound of his rapid-bursts of bullet fire reached their ears as he cleared the tunnel.

'I hope you know what you're doing,' Mercy said, softly, in Road-Hog's ear.

'I don't,' Road-Hog replied.

When they reached the next exit for the London underground they emerged like submarines to find a street already full of corpses. Widowmaker had rained bullets while Junkrat's grenades fell like explosive hail. The street was a nightmare of dead.

Road-Hog pushed past McCree and 76 and, gun blazing, led the path forward. The enemies fell beneath him in droves, afraid of the sneak-attack that had appeared behind them. McCree fanned out to the left, 76 to the right, as they made safe the street.

Within seconds the area was cleared of enemies. They stood behind a road-block, gazed ahead.

'Sombra will be down there,' Widowmaker pointed.

Road-Hog didn't know if this was a guess, or if she was using her infra-red scanner again. It didn't matter to him. As far as he was concerned if they had not found the person they were looking for yet, she must be further along. And there was no way to go further along than by following this path, right into the heart of whatever facility lay ahead.

'You're saying we need to keep going?' McCree asked, astounded.

Road-Hog agreed with McCree's line of thinking. They had done well to get this far, as out-numbered as they were. It was time to call a truce, time to look for Tracer, time to find another way.

'Yes, we have to keep going.' Widowmaker reloaded her sniper rifle. She was looking more alive with every passing moment – nothing like the deathly blue corpse they had seen so many weeks ago. She was a warrior, a spy, an accomplished killer.

A fearsome enemy.

'Very well.' Mercy nodded. 'We can keep going, but…'

'Truce!'

The voice was not one they recognised. They looked up. A tall black man with a club over one shoulder and a shotgun over the other was approaching. He smiled, white teeth shining.

'My name is Omar,' he said, 'and I have a message from Sombra.'

Road-Hog seriously considered hooking the man and shooting him, but decided against it. The man was clearly not here to fight. He was even holding his shotgun in the air, as if to surrender.

'How do you know Sombra?' Widowmaker called.

Omar was still grinning. 'She is Queen of King's Row!'

Widowmaker rolled her eyes for the benefit of her team. Mercy pursed her lips.

'What does she want?'

'She wants to welcome her old friend Amélie to her base of operations, and to discuss with her the current state of the world. She would also like Agent Widowmaker's friends to lay down their weapons and come quietly.' Omar touched his ear. Road-Hog was fairly sure there was a listening device there – perhaps this Omar man was being given his script line-by-line. 'Sombra also deeply apologises for the violence that has already ensued, and promises that there will be no more of the sort.'

At this, Widowmaker laughed out loud. Her allies looked at her with looks of grim mistrust. Road-Hog liked Widowmaker – their mission together had been enjoyable – but even he was beginning to wonder if she was a good ally. She seemed to have too many secret agendas of her own.

The blue-skinned agent called out to Omar.

'We agree to come and talk to Sombra, but we do not agree to give up our weapons. Tell her it would be unprofessional, especially in these trying times.'

There was a long pause as Omar listened to whatever instructions were being relayed via his ear piece. Road-Hog knew better than to question what his allies were saying; he felt too far out of his depth. So much had happened since he'd stumbled across Reaper and Mercy and Tracy and Mike in Route 66. Nonetheless, he wanted to ask questions, wanted to find out how Widowmaker and Sombra knew each other, how Mercy was capable of healing wounded bodies in seconds.

He said nothing. He listened. He waited with the others for Omar's response.

Finally the dark-skinned man grinned and nodded.

'Sombra agrees to your conditions. Welcome to the heart of King's Row, the Meridian. Welcome to the castle from which Sombra rules this land.' He extended a hand in a show of trust. 'Welcome… to the future.'