I remember you

by Strata

the Dream

Saturday morning. Usually a time for rest and relaxation after a hard, often hot week of sitting at the same counter and making the same small talk to customers. However, today was different. A cloud hung upon Sombra's mind. It had been there forever, and sometimes it was above, sometimes starting to envelop the shy professor's mind. He had lived with it, and he almost felt it evaporate yesterday, on that rooftop. It returned, and he needed to lift it.

He had felt it-

that feeling that we all search for, the light at the end of the tunnel. The cloud that had been there ever since that fateful day on Sombra's third birthday was beginning to fall. He needed it to lift. He saw bad things- heard bad things- CADENCE.

Narrow streets. Walls of stone. Houses of stone. He knew it- It was his home town.

Not San Marais, his Spanish home, but the place where he grew up in Northern Ireland.

His Spanish mother came to find a new life in the peaceful town. But all she found-

SMASH

Red veins appeared in his vision, and he could feel an itching behind his eyeballs. Growing. Painful.

He whipped around, and saw it- the narrow alley that he grew up in. That was where he heard the smash-

There was a small balloon tied to the mailbox. Pink. He heard a yell.

Sombra! He could hear her- She was crying out- The red veins closed in farther to the centre of his vision. Everything throbbed in his vision, and the itching began to spread beyond his eyes. He could hear buildings collapsing around him- Silently, just falling to the ground. Another yell. NO!

Through his red and purple haze, Sombra sprinted down the alley, feeling the cold Irish wind in his hair- but it was stale. It was bitter. He reached his house. The window was smashed. He heard a yell- cut off from inside. He screamed.

MADRE! He felt his sword in his hand, his armor on his chest. He saw HER. A man standing over her, in the doorway to the living room. Collapsed on the ground, slowly shaking, he saw the long black hair and purple fingernails. He saw his mother on the floor. Standing above her-

He felt his hand shake as he gripped the weapon harder. The man held up the gun that he was holding, and ripped the ski mask from his face to see better. Through the distorted red haze, he heard the man yell out;

"Don't do it! Back off!"

He fired as Sombra simply snarled at him. He felt a coat on his back, above the steel plating all around him. The weapon in his hand turned white-hot anticipating it. pain. Do it, Sombra. You know you want to. Do it. DO IT!

The man fired, but the bullet simply ricoched off his armor. He emptied the whole clip into Sombra, But the man did not slow. The veins reached the centre of his vision, and all he saw was red. His normally green eyes changed, and a purple haze surrounded them, as he saw clearly. He knew what he must do.

Raising the sword up in the air with one arm, he grabbed the man by the shoulder. He heard his sword fizzling, hotter than the deepest and most ancient forge. It brushed the ceiling, and it caught alight, and the flames began to spread around the room. The murderer whimpered, and put his hand in front of his eyes as if to shield himself.

"Please- I'm so sorry-" he gargled.

Sombra screamed, and was about to bring the blazing sword down on his mother's killer when he saw a little boy under the table to his right. Glancing at him, they locked eyes.

Short. Kind eyes. He looked shy, and he was wearing grey clothes. dried blood flecked his face, and Sombra could see tears in his eyes. A small triangular hat sat on his head. He looked up at the older man, and they saw each other. One through teary eyes, one through a red haze. He was only three. The sword hissed and Sombra turned back to the killer. Do it! That man killed her! Why do you wait? This is what you've always wanted!

Voices. Crackling of flames. Crashing as parts of the ceiling fell. Hissing of the sword. Soft whimpers of the child. It all whirled round his head.

Looking the man in the eyes, he tensed his arm again, and with a whirlwind of laughter and screams in his ears, he brought the sword down.

---

He sat up in bed, with a yell as he grasped his own head, yelling out for a few moments before opening his eyes. He was in a cold sweat. HE grasped his pillow close to his chest, blinking the red out of his eyes as his vision returned to normal. It was three in the morning the stars were out. He exhaled, before getting out of bed and putting some clothes on. He wasn't even going to try to get back to sleep.

He rested his head on a wall for a moment. That isn't me. I didn't do it. I wouldn't do it. I wouldn-

he saw the sword in the corner of his vision, leaning against a wall. In anger, he picked it up, went out side and chucked it into the trash. Damn sword. He sighed, and adjusted his collar before heading in the direction of Chris's place, a shiver running down his spine.

Comments

[Strata]

-guys? What happened?

The new chapter was intended to flesh out sombra as a character, but someone removed a like and added a dislike.

I mean- I'm not personally offended, I'm just not sure about what went wrong.

-did people think this was a ship fic? It kinda is, in a way, but it's more pseudo-backstory alternate universe stuff about Sombra.

-where did I go wrong in this? Oh well, nothing to do but push on. I hope some people will stick with me as I try to make the story a bit more interesting.

Much love

-the slightly deflated Strata

[Sulpher]

Maybe italicize the dream so it's easier to tell, cause dreams are thoughts, but still good chapter, like the backstory

[Strata]

6668196
Thanks man. I'll keep that in mind.