It's a losing battle. Heart in her throat, she knows it the moment she can't keep pace— grits her teeth to find enough focus and throws down a last-ditch effort to hack from a distance, wires snagged around her wrist as she struggles to aim her unarmed fingertips: he's close enough, just barely. Violet lines flicked outwards in the dark from her claws to find purchase on York's skin, a mirror to semi-organic wiring. A few seconds, that's all she needs. One, two—

And then it hits. Needling pressure where the first of the ports along her spine rests, sensation so unexpected it might as well be a dose of cold water to her veins, seizing her up with a gasp. She'd hope they'd be incompatible by default, but then again, she's modified her own hardware as much as Cortana has; at this point it's entirely likely that whatever those wires are composed of is entirely capable of hijacking her implants.

"Suéltame, pendejo—!!" Gritted out, attention turned towards awkwardly trying to pull lose that line from behind her own back while her own visuals start to flicker with static, Sombra is nothing if not committed to scathing commentary.