A women's jousting competition

"How auspicious," said Mr. Black. "Right in the middle of Germany. Reinhardt won't be able to interfere if he's stuck in the audience. You'd still need a way to strip her besides just hacking her armor." Sombra smiled mischievously.

"I think I have one. I just need to make a few calls..."

Two weeks later, Dusseldorf's Triannual Women's Jousting Tourney was underway, with a number of smaller events scattered around the field. Brigitte Lindholm, squire to the famous wandering knight, had exchanged her mace for a long lance, to the surprise and elation of her fans. And there were rumors of a new, masked competitor, garbed in all black, her face hidden behind a skull-like helmet.

It was, Sombra would recall, surprisingly easy to pass as a professional jouster. The horses were robotic simulacra (somehow cheaper than using real horses), most of the competitors' armor was digitally enhanced, and she was able to hook up her lance to an aimbot program hidden in her helmet. It couldn't replace years of practice, but with the help of a few additional hacks here and there, she was able to stay in the bracket long enough to face Brigitte on the field.

"Okay, she's getting ready," said Mr. Black, talking into the earpiece hidden beneath Sombra's helmet as the camera drone spied on Brigitte. "Good news, she's not wearing a shirt under her armor, just a sports bra. Too hot on the field for anything else, maybe. Probably not wearing anything under those shorts either, since there's no panty line. Is that good enough for you?"

"Should be. The auto-lance has been performing perfectly this whole match. Ripping her bra off without hurting her will just require good timing. If she's going commando, do we still need to-"

"No, they'd want the shorts. They're tight enough that I can practically see her cameltoe, so they count." Sombra sighed.

"I'll figure something out then. She'll be panicked, and anything smarter than a toaster here is at my command. Something will give."

A recording of a trumpet blast played as the two jousters came out onto the field, the air filled with cheers for Brigitte and boos for Sombra, with Reinhardt's voice heard above all others. Sombra flipped off the crowd and smirked under her helmet as the boos grew louder. Sometimes being the villain on purpose could be pretty fun.

And then the signal played, and their horses were off. As the auto-lance handled the sport for her, Sombra set off her armor hack. She smiled as Brigitte's armor fell apart, the squire's eyes going wide as she was left in just a yellow sports bra and matching, painted-on shorts. But her victory was cut short by the aimbot glitching out, her lance whirling around so quickly that it flew out of her hand. In a second, her connection to the technology on the field was snapped in twain, her horse buckling beneath her. In another second, Brigitte's lance impacted against her armor so hard that it shattered, launching her into the air and flinging her head-over-heels into the dirt. She could hear Brigitte's laughter as she lay in the dirt.

"Localized EMP, triggered to go off if anybody sabotaged my armor. So, are you the so-called Pervert Hacker, or just someone who thought they could cheat their way through a tournament?" Sombra staggered to her feet as Brigitte dismounted, cracking her knuckles. "Either way, it looks like you're nothing without your toys. Whereas I am still a knight's squire."