It takes the better part of a week for her to organize her collected data, to take time out for thoroughly disposing of the broken remains of what he'd brought her. True to her word, she scheduled in a few aggressive attacks on LumériCo's incoming shipments and divided a cut of the collected haul out to Los Muertos themselves. A band-aid that should have stoppered the bleeding.
But manita doesn't bother to join in, fingers buried too deeply in the nest of information she'd uncovered. Precautions, safeguards. With Gabriel directly responsible for tearing out data, here's no distinct trail leading back to her— but there is one to him. With Los Muertos on their doorstep and one man to blame for it, it hardly takes much of a logical leap (no matter how thorough she is) for the assumption to be made.
He doesn't check in for a while, and in trying to keep their activities concealed, neither does she. It's a mistake.
Maybe her solution didn't do enough to nullify the tension, maybe Guillermo and his supporters were too quick on the draw— maybe both— but when her only constant contact goes so silent that he doesn't so much as respond to a cursory message, Sombra realizes something is wrong. Her footsteps are quick as she slips along sloping streets, emerald markings peeking out from beneath the edges of her coat where the street lights don't catch, falling away into shadow.
His apartment isn't far. She raps her knuckles against the door, impatient.] ¿Oye, estás en casa, mijo? Abre la puerta - hace frío afuera.
no subject
It takes the better part of a week for her to organize her collected data, to take time out for thoroughly disposing of the broken remains of what he'd brought her. True to her word, she scheduled in a few aggressive attacks on LumériCo's incoming shipments and divided a cut of the collected haul out to Los Muertos themselves. A band-aid that should have stoppered the bleeding.
But manita doesn't bother to join in, fingers buried too deeply in the nest of information she'd uncovered. Precautions, safeguards. With Gabriel directly responsible for tearing out data, here's no distinct trail leading back to her— but there is one to him. With Los Muertos on their doorstep and one man to blame for it, it hardly takes much of a logical leap (no matter how thorough she is) for the assumption to be made.
He doesn't check in for a while, and in trying to keep their activities concealed, neither does she. It's a mistake.
Maybe her solution didn't do enough to nullify the tension, maybe Guillermo and his supporters were too quick on the draw— maybe both— but when her only constant contact goes so silent that he doesn't so much as respond to a cursory message, Sombra realizes something is wrong. Her footsteps are quick as she slips along sloping streets, emerald markings peeking out from beneath the edges of her coat where the street lights don't catch, falling away into shadow.
His apartment isn't far. She raps her knuckles against the door, impatient.] ¿Oye, estás en casa, mijo? Abre la puerta - hace frío afuera.