A tiny little box. Glowing, floating. It was locked with a code, but I don't doubt if she was given some time, she'd have figured it out.

When she got back from the mission, I treated her wounds and we talked, at length. She didn't know if the 'gift' was something useful that she could use, or if it was a bomb that would take her life upon opening.

She gave me her last will, then and there. I didn't want to fucking hear it, but a few fucking days later I ended up here. [I, not we. He came here, alone--no Sombra to be seen. And even now, three months later...]

Don't know if she's still up there in space, or what the hell happened.

[His rough, echoing voice makes it easy to hide the tense feeling of worry--but it's hard to escape the bitter sound.]

Only thing I have left is revenge for the people who turned me into this... thing. And to protect the life of the only person who wanted to help me with what little is fucking left of mine.

[And he doesn't even have either of those anymore. Harsh as his words are, someone well versed in Reaper's language would find it easy to read between the lines:

He misses Sombra. He misses her, and doesn't even know if she's even still alive.]