Walking down the gangway of the dropship felt like being led to her own hanging.

Sombra was the first to admit it: Something had gone wrong with the EMP at Versailles, something that she hadn't been able to fix. Because of this, she had to share a bumpy hour-long flight back to Talon's HQ in Venice with the two deadliest assassins on the planet, both of whom had had personal satisfaction tantalizingly ripped away from them as a consequence of her mistake, or rather her failure as they had so bluntly put it upon boarding.

Mistake, failure, doesn't matter, she had thought. Just don't be an ass about it.

The entire way back, in the dim lights of the ship's main bay, not a single word had been spoken. Reaper and Widowmaker had taken their seats, the latter doing so after bandaging the bullet holes in her thigh and wiping up the trickling blood, and not said a single word. Normally, Sombra had observed that the evil eyes they tended to point her way were accompanied by empty threats or at least a snarl, but not this time. The primary indicator of their frustration had been when Kowalski had stumbled in, the only Blackwatch operative who had returned in time; The rest she didn't know or care to know about. His voice rendered extremely nasally because of his broken, blood-spurting nose, he'd barely had time to utter:

"Reaper, sir, I can explain. In my defense, he-"

Before his boss drew a shotgun and took his head clean off with one bullet. Sombra had watched, caught off guard by the suddenness of it, as the hapless lackey's corpse tripped backwards and rolled out of the ship just before the door slammed shut and the aircraft lifted off. She eyed the revenant closely and kept one hand behind her back, fingertips glowing with purple energy, as he returned his weapon to within his overcoat and snarled viciously.

Now, one silent and tense flight later, the three assets were departing the ship and making their way across the hangar deep underground the estate that the headquarters was in. Sombra had departed first, though not of her own accord; Reaper refused to carry Widowmaker out before the hacker had gone first.

Great. Now they're using me as a meatshield.

With the angry accomplices tailing, she'd picked up her pace through the hangar in the hopes of avoiding what she knew was coming, but a deep, Nigerian-accented tone perforated through the air.

"I take it that things didn't go exactly to plan?"

Sombra froze in her tracks like an animal caught on a busy road before slowly turning her head in the voice's direction. Fifteen feet away stood Akande Ogundimu, The Successor, the current Doomfist and head of Talon's Inner Council. Everything about him, from his tall, extremely well-muscled frame and eloquent speech pattern to his regal mannerisms and impeccable dress, commanded both respect and fear. Even without his eponymous gauntlet, he looked and sounded a man who would share a polite conversation with someone one moment and, with nothing personal, crush their skull with his bare hands the next.

He spoke again, this time with more emphasis. "I asked you a question."

Sombra almost thought she could feel tiny beads of sweat dribbling down her forehead. She about-faced towards Doomfist and put on her best unphased posture, but she was barely able to keep it from shattering like a pane of glass when Reaper's sadistic chuckle rang out from behind.

"I don't know. Did it?" he hissed.

"I was speaking to the commander of the mission." Doomfist added as he strolled up to his assets.

Sombra's dread turned to smug condescension in an instant. She rotated on her heels to see where Reaper now stood in place and smiled deviously at him.

Doomfist grew impatient. His arms crossed behind his back and his eyes narrowed. "Well?"

Reaper's answer was slow, but without hesitation. "The primary objective was successful. The Omnic dignitaries are dead."

"And Overwatch?"

Reaper tightened his fist until it shook. "They... got away." he spat.

Doomfist regarded him with fake surprise. "Really? I expected more from you, especially when opportunity presented itself so kindly."

"You have her to thank for that."

Doomfist looked over at Sombra and raised an eyebrow. She grinned appeasingly before conjuring a hologram that showed countless headlines that screamed bloody murder, once-jubilant crowds that had turned violent on each other, and greasy commentators pointing fingers in wild directions. Most importantly, while the feeds showed and talked plenty on Overwatch and the Junkers that had been arrested, not a single second was devoted to Talon.

With the elegant raise of a hand, he commanded her to close the hologram and she obliged.

"Despite setbacks, we have achieved something great." he said with ambition glinting in his eyes. "Before tonight, the world had almost let itself believe the lies of progress that peace uses to entice the weak. Now, we have laid bare the truth, and we must be ready to spread it to the masses. With Overwatch incapacitated and hated, they will need to hide under their rocks like cockroaches. This shall provide us with ample time to capitalize and move our pieces for the next step in humanity's evolution. The seeds of conflict must not go untended, especially when the time is ripe as it is now."

At this point, an automated gurney whisked up behind Widowmaker, who let go of Reaper and gingerly let herself lie back on it. The machine then slowly floated off out the exit of the hangar. Reaper simultaneously deformed into his black mist and shot off through the doorway.

As Sombra tried to leave, Doomfist placed a hand on her shoulder. "Do not think that you are getting away unnoticed." he said.

Sombra gently lifted his hand off and adopted her demeanor from earlier. Her hips swayed to one side and she twirled her hair with one finger. "You know how it is. They laugh, they monologue, they torture, and in the end they kill more time than they do Overwatch agents."

Doomfist took no notice. He didn't even look in her direction. "True, but what they don't do is take risks. It is clear that you underestimate your enemies, an error they have learned not to commit. Perhaps they are correct and I should shorten your leash."

Seeing that he still wasn't looking at her, she scowled and flipped him off, but quickly repealed it when his eyes flicked her way.

"Nevertheless, you are still needed. Lacroix and Reyes will be out of commission until O'Deorain can tend to them. We will need another asset to take advantage of this opening, and it falls upon you to find them."

"Don't worry. You know I don't let you down, boss." she said with a hint of her trademark flippancy.

"Except when you do." Before he walked off, he now faced her and looked her sternly in the eyes. "You have a chance to amend your errors. For your sake, I suggest you take it. Remember: There are always greater designs. Take care of them, or they will take care of you."

As he left, Sombra stood alone, frowning. Always playing the persona dura with his fancy talk. It'll be fun to see what he's like when I'm through.

Leaning against a wall next to the door, she summoned another hologram, this one containing extensive profiles of every single Omnic that had perished in the ballroom. With one hand she scrolled through the list, while with the other she sifted through them for anything of worth. Fat and easily hacked bank accounts, of which there were many, were always of use, as were connections between other, still-living persons of influence. Dirty secrets among this crowd, however, were surprisingly light. She'd found over the years that the big names always had the juiciest pieces of blackmail material, but this crowd was thinner than most with regards to those.

Guess they really were trying to make the world a better place. Oh well, what can you do?

What she did find she stored away for later, but what she didn't find angered her. Despite having unfettered access to beings who had occupied every social, economic, and political ivory tower she could think of, she couldn't find a single bread crumb that led towards The Conspiracy. The only things she did find were retreads, connections that she had made years ago.

Shit. She swiped away the hologram and sighed loudly. While this wasn't the first time that potential big leads had dried up, it was certainly one of the most disappointing letdowns. Worse still, it had been one of a string of dead ends she had gone down recently. Avenues that had held promise, like Volskaya and Lumerico, had turned out to be further away from the centre of La Conspiracion than hoped.

She closed her eyes and curled her arms over her torso. It was at times such as these that got her most on edge. Without a steady stream of information, her ultimate goal threatened to slip away, her web becoming useless. After twelve years of endless searching it was almost complete, but now it stood on the verge of stagnation. Her 'greater designs' had been greater than anything Doomfist could ever have dreamed of, yet they were so much more fragile.

Then it hit her. Like a freight train going a hundred miles an hour, it hit her.

'Greater designs', hm? I wonder just how great.

She called forth her hologram again and rapidly went through the files of the dignitaries, looking for two names, neither of which were at the event but were part of one detail that she had previously thought had no importance. When she finally found what she was looking for in the file of one of the guests, she separated it into another hologram, where it flourished into a plethora of photos, news clippings, and videos. It was this single topic that she hoped would provide a saving grace, that would finally get her to the heart of it all and lift the veil that had covered The Conspiracy since the beginning.

A wicked smile crept across her face and her eyes twinkled with promise. The names she had found would suit just fine, both for her ends and Doomfist's request.

The first, Vishkar. The second: Satya Vaswani.