Solving the Reinhardt Problem

A few days later, Mr. Black's camera drone hovered around Sombra's head as she looked over armor schematics and news reports, nursing a bottle of beer with annoyance.

"Still trying to figure out how to get around Reinhardt to get to Brigitte?" asked Mr. Black.

"His armor's mostly analog. The most I'd be able to do is shut off some of his arsenal, which still leaves a giant angry pendejo with a hammer running at me." Her fingers flew across the screen, minimizing the schematics and maximizing a few reports of Reinhardt and Brigitte adventuring across Europe. "Psychological manipulation's on the table, but the man is as blunt as his hammer. Drawing him away from Brigitte without alerting her would be tricky. His only weak spots are his health, and I don't want to risk killing him. If the playful hacker who strips ladies starts putting people in the hospital, Interpol is gonna have both our asses. Best solution is to get him out of the equation entirely."

"And you can't just hack her armor from a distance?"

"Do you think your clients would be satisfied if we only got her down to tights and a t-shirt? Because I'm pretty sure that's what she wears under there." Mr. Black fell silent. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"So we need to bait her into a **** situation. Draw her somewhere where she either can't or won't bring her metal bodyguard."

"Yeah, I know. I've been looking at events in central and eastern Europe to try and find a good avenue, but..." Sombra trailed off as an a news alert caught her eye.