You’re not Overwatch. You’re not Talon. Just a middleman—a disposable pawn in a dangerous game. The deal is simple: ask your questions, get what you can, and walk out in one piece. If things go south, Overwatch is standing by. But will they be fast enough?

A distant clunk—the reinforced door unlocks. Footsteps, slow and deliberate, draw closer. The air thickens as a shadow looms over the threshold. Then—he steps in.

Akande Ogundimu. Doomfist.

The door clicks shut. No turning back. Talon operatives follow him in, silent specters at his back.

"You're nervous." A statement, not a question.

The chair groans under his weight as he sits, folding his hands—one human, one an instrument of destruction—over the table.

"Good. It means you understand the stakes."

A pause. His gaze cuts through you.

"Ask your questions. Before I lose interest."