Why not just strip her?

The idea's so alarmingly simple that Sombra had to stop and think about it for a second. Trying to rip cloths off of an angry muscular woman who could snap her in half didn't seem like a sensible option. Especially when that woman's been controlling the engagement from the start. But artillery support meant that she might have a chance at holding her own. More importantly, she was just about out of sensible options.

"Fine," she growled. "You want your duel, pendeja? You're getting it." With a snap of her fingers, the crossbow fired a flurry of bolts at Reinhardt as he climbed over the border separating the crowd from the field. The bolts bounced harmlessly off his armor, but it was enough to cause Reinhardt to stop, deploying his shield to protect the panicking civilians, and enough to draw Brigitte's attention away from her. Sombra took the opportunity to tackle the squire, throwing her entire weight into the blow. Before Brigitte even hit the ground, Sombra was on top of her, yanking at her sports bra.

"W-what do you think you're doing!" said Brigitte. To Sombra's surprise, Brigitte didn't push Sombra off or wrench her away from her clothes. Instead, she covered her freckled breasts as they bounced out in the struggle.

"Cheating, dear squire. I may not have your chivalry or your honor or your toned ass, but when you don't have any of those things, you learn to play dirty!" At that, Sombra managed to rip the bra off. Brigitte covered her breasts as a blush ran through her cheeks, only to let them bounce free to stop Sombra from ripping her shorts off.

"Y-you're not going to strip me! I am not going to get beat by a craven thief like you!" yelled Brigitte as she locked her muscular thighs together, a last-ditch attempt to keep her dignity.

"You're just mad because you know Reinhardt'll never forget that he saw you like this." Brigitte went pale at the thought, her legs loosening enough for Sombra to slip off her shorts. Out came her freshly-shaven peach.

After that, it was a blur. Sombra remembered running. Reinhardt charging behind her. Brigitte defiantly chasing her, holding her jiggling tits in one hand and covering her crotch with the other, her toned ass uncovered for all to see. She remembered escaping the tournament grounds and returning to the city. Brigitte chasing her through crowded streets, her face red as much from anger as the humiliation of being exposed. The next thing she knew, she was hiding in an alley, the spandex shorts still clutched in her trembling fist.

"Hey, Mr. Black?" she said, testing her comms to see if they were working again. Thankfully, Mr. Black responded.

"Oh, good. I was worried when you weren't answering. I lost track of you ten minutes ago. I think we're done here. We have about an hour's worth of footage of Brigitte running around town naked looking for you. I think you made her too angry to stop and put on clothes."

"Good. We'll rendezvous, get out of this town and get the hell out of this country. I need an ice pack, dinner, and a warm bath."

"As you wish, Dame Sombra."

"Oh, shut up."