Chapter Text
After experiencing the adrenaline, fear, and pure rush of your first ever match, you didn’t sleep well the following night. Flashes of squadmates falling, calling out for help, and you running into a firefight to try to stop them from bleeding out. It was, needless to say, a mosh pit where nightmares were made. It didn’t help that there was always that lingering sensation of being watched, yet wherever you looked, you saw nobody, nothing, even paying you any mind.
But that’s always where all the trouble starts, right?
The following matches garnered you quite the fanbase. You saw comments online of people gushing over your tactics, your skills, and even your kit. Your abilities allowed you to gain the upperhand when all hope is supposedly lost, granting a win in the long-run. When you were scouted for the Apex games, you were quite surprised that they had requested you join, that the pay would be handsome, and there would be boatloads of opportunity, among other things. You watched the games near religiously when they first started, but sometimes opted to just have them on for background noise as time progressed. They could be more than gruesome, and sometimes you just weren’t in the mood for that.
Upon receiving the letter, you immediately accepted. You had to bid your home, friends, and family goodbye, though, which stung more than it should have. Your friends promised they’d brag all about you to anyone they could, and if you ever got to a point of fame where you had merch, they’d wear it. Your family promised the same.
Packing only the necessities, you set off when pickup came to retrieve you. They said it was going to be a long journey, so get rest while you could, because they were going to plop you down in a match upon your arrival, wasting absolutely no time. You didn’t need training, anyway, since you had some history in the military. You were one of the perfect candidates to unleash onto the arena, and while you were sick with nerves, you were ready, too.
Upon arrival to the base where everybody stayed, you were shown your own chambers and told to prepare, as well as introduce yourself to everyone whenever you were good to go. After the agent left, you were on your own, staring into an empty room with the bare necessities. Tossing your duffel bag to the foot of the bed, you went into the bathroom and splashed your face with cold water to wake yourself up and rub the sleep from your eyes. For a moment, you and your reflection stared at each other, but you heard bustle from the commons room and it snapped you out of your stupor. Leaving the bathroom, you pulled your bag up and onto your bed, opening it and pulling out all your gear from within.
You had a relatively simple getup, opting for practicality over aesthetics…. Though, you did have a colour scheme, at least. You didn’t want to be boring, this being a game all about flair and showing off. You held up your protective helmet, the gold accents framing the shiny silver that almost acted like a mirror of the unbreakable lens, and smiled to yourself. It had been a long time since you last wore any of it, but you kept fit, so it would still be the same size and everything.
You stripped off your civilian clothes, putting on snug combat pants and a black wife beater shirt. You slid the chest piece on first, locking it into place before moving on to knee, elbow, and shoulder pads. Your boots took a little longer, them being the most complicated part of your whole kit. One boot consisted of three pieces. The feet, the shins, and the calves. Everything clicked into place, and when you stood, you were a few inches taller. Donned in what was basically shining armor, you slid your gloves on and made sure they were locked in place. Finally, you turned toward the door, staring at it for a long moment, contemplating, second guessing… Before throwing all that shit out the window.
Pulling your helmet on to mask your face, just to accentuate the mystery, you left the bedroom. All conversation stopped, attention moving to the new oddity that was joining the ranks. The silence was loud, but a girl in blue and orange jumped up from her seat, rushing over to greet you happily.
“You must be Iota, oui? Oh, it is so good to finally meet you! We were all told of a newcomer, but nothing much outside of that! My name is Nataile, but my nickname is Wattson!” She took hold of your hand, nearly shaking it right out of the socket before another woman came along, pretty pink hair put up into two buns. It made her head look like a heart, honestly.
“Ajay Che, pleased to meet ‘ya,” she said, slipping Wattson’s hand out of yours to give you a quick shake, as well. “Call me Lifeline. That over there is Crypto, he’s not a social type, don’t take it personal. The others can introduce themselves, right?” As if on cue, a few more people came up to check you out, trying to assess what kind of person you were. Even the one called Crypto turned his gaze briefly toward you before going back to what he was doing.
Gibralter seemed ecstatic to have another tank-like player in the game, pulling you into his side with one of his big arms as he let out a hearty laugh. Pathfinder seemed just as excited, already saying that you were his friend. Mirage started talking about himself, and didn’t really stop until Octane pulled you away to ask if your boots were prosthetics like his. He never got an answer before Bloodhound shooed him off, the tracker introduced themselves before saying that most of the others were the friendly type, but don’t push it on the few that are antisocial. Wraith was curt, but not rude, and Caustic had grumbled something about your mask cancelling out his toxic gas. Bangalore took hold of your wrist, you doing the same, as you gave a profound shake. Militants tended to do so, and she shared that she knew some of what you did in the past, that she was impressed it took them this long to recruit you.
In all of these introductions, not once were you able to get a word out. Even if you had tried, you were interrupted, far too polite to tell the other off for interjecting like that. Everyone noticed, however, your overwhelming silence, and mild awkwardness. You did a quick headcount of everyone, and noticed that there was someone missing. But that was around the time you felt it, like eyes were piercing through your armor and into your very soul. You were about to ask where the last person was before a siren blared overhead, declaring that the games were about to begin. You felt your heartbeat quicken, but kept your posture stiff, following where everyone else went. Along the bobbing heads of them all, you caught a sight of ghostly red, before it seemed to vanish in a burst of ash. That sensation of being watched never left.
The match had been one firefight after another, leaving you bruised and exhausted afterwards. You had been the only other squad left, your partners being Octane and Lifeline. You were about to pop your ability to overtake the last two, and you made the mistake of assuming their third was taken out already. Whispers of death and that mirage of ash was the first thing you saw, and you didn’t even have time to call out the fact that you were being flanked. You had spun on your heel, staring down the barrel of a gun pointed straight at your head. There was a stillness that hung in the air, and you caught a glance of the perpetrator. A lithe figure in red, white in the shape of a skull for a face as contrast. Burning yellow optics stared at you, and the next thing you knew you were out of the game.
Lifeline, upon patching you up on the fly back to base, explained that that had been Revenant. “He’s a ghost, al’ight. Comes at ‘ya when you least expect it. Nobody here can get real close to him, either. He actin’ like a caged animal most of the time. Be careful, ‘yah? Don’t get on his bad side.”
“He has a good side?” Octane asked beside you, sounding as if the very concept was the most alien thing imaginable.
“If he does, try bein’ on it.”
That had been all the warning you got. When you finally landed, you could feel optics being burned into the back of your helmet. It made all the hair on your neck and arms raise in alarm, but you ignored it. You went straight to your chambers, tossing off all your armor before taking a cold, cold shower. You only left your room to fetch dinner, the hood of your pullover pushed so far forward it hid most of your face. You waved to any who said hello, and politely shook your head when asked if you wanted to join them.
When the door closed behind you, everybody who sat in their respective circles looked to Bangalore, who was about to take a bite of some teriyaki. “What?” She huffed, lowering her fork and looking at them all.
“You said you knew of them,” Bloodhound prodded, their crow, Arthur, sat on their shoulder. “What they did. Who are they? Are they mute?”
Wattson clapped her hands together excitedly. “Oui! I am simply dying to know more about them! They are simply shrouded in a mysterious darkness not even I can illuminate!” She giggled a bit, the others either joining her or rolling their eyes. Bangalore let out a sigh, leaning back in her seat as she clasped her hands together.
“They speak, they just like bein’ real quiet, is all. One of the best people to have on your team if everyone’s shit outta luck, too. It’s like they radiate good luck, hope, however you want to put it. They just pull everyone back up on their feet. It’s like they always know what to do, too.”
She was about to say more before a manilla envelope was tossed onto the table, Crypto stuffing his hands back into his pockets. The others looked to him as he scoffed and looked away. “I found information on them,” he said. Not even he was exempt from the overwhelming curiosity that surrounded who you were. “In the military for a few years, was always offered promotions but never accepted. They were always at the frontlines, never working behind the scenes.”
Everyone stared at the envelope, before hands all around dove in to snag it, to read it first. None were quite as quick, though, as Pathfinder had been.
He flicked it open, single optic scanning over everything that had been found on you. The others looked to him, waiting for him to share what he’d found, or at least pass it on so someone else could. He read all of it pretty quickly, before closing it, handing it back to Crypto. His demeanor had changed significantly, all of a sudden. Wattson spoke up first.
“What did it say, my friend?”
The robot looked to her for a moment, before shaking his head.
“They should not be alive, that much is for sure. They have an admirable will to live, despite efforts of...” He hesitated a moment. “Despite everything they have been through. They have quite the history, but I think it is very rude for you all to be so intrusive on it!”
Octane spat out a harsh laugh. “Oh yeah? You just read all the deets on ‘em, robot! Isn’t that, you know, pretty invasive? Hypocrite!” He went on a tangent before Bangalore shushed him, nodding her head in agreement.
“He’s right, though. It’s not any of our business. If they wanna share, they can. If not? Just another mystery to add to our growing list, right? We’ve all got our secrets. I think the new kid deserves to have their own, too.”
Many were not satisfied with that answer, but for the time being, would let it rest. You had heard some of the conversation through the door, frowning as you stared at your hands. Scars covered them, ranging from deep gashes to burns. So much history, etched into your flesh, so many stories that you were fine with keeping under lock and key.