“Sombra, you’re a dead pony!” he threatened, punctuating with another horn beam. We were now scrambling down the road like wild animals. To avoid his shots I had to tuck and roll, serpentine, and even jump over a few errant blasts. I’d say it’s a miracle I didn’t get hit, but more likely it was because he was so blinded by his uncontrollable rage that he couldn’t shoot accurately. 