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They were humming.
It grated Revenant’s nerves, and the tune was catchy and annoying somehow. It rattled in his skull— Er, his metal frame that was kinda shaped like a skull— and bounced around his audio receptors.
It seemed so off character, too— they were supposed to be one of the quiet ones, for God’s sake. Whenever they walked, inside the ring or out, there was no sound that followed their footsteps. They only spoke when necessary, and kept to themself. It was one of the reasons why he could stand the tracker. They minded their business, stayed the hell out of his way, and were actually somewhat competent in battle.
But this? This was pushing his limits and testing his patience. They were seated beside him on the dropship, Artur perched on their knee. She was nibbling at the tip of one of their gloves, and they were just… humming , mindlessly tracing along her beak and the feathers that puffed along her throat.
It was soft enough that he was sure nobody else could pick up on it, but loud enough to bother him. His claws tapped impatiently against his knee. He couldn’t take this for much longer.
What bothered him even more, was that the tune was somewhat familiar . It itched at his mind, but no matter how hard he tried to think, the answer was always just out of grasp. Like sand, slipping through his fingertips.
And that made their humming absolutely intolerable .
“Stop it.” He eventually growled out. The tracker beside him stiffened a bit in surprise, turning their helm to face him. The lenses glinted in the dim light, their head tilted slightly in a questioning gesture.
“The humming. Could you just shut it?” He spat through grit teeth, curling a metal hand into a fist. He was already done and over with this game internally— and it hadn’t even started yet.
They stared at him for quite some time. “Ah.” They eventually said, turning back to look down at their feathered companion. The pesky bird chittered and fluttered from their knee up to their shoulder, eagerly picking at the metal that dangled from the brim of their helmet. “I did not even realize I was doing it.”
Revenant only grunted in response, leaning back in his chair and crossing his lanky arms tightly over his chest. The silence finally settled between them— well, as silent as this damn ship could get, what with Mirage’s insistent babbling across from him, the dull chatter emanating from Lifeline and Wattson further down, and the echo of cackling from where Octavio sat all the way at the end. Ugh. He could feel a headache settling in— and he wasn’t supposed to even feel anything anymore.
However, even though the silence was appreciated— there was still something nagging at him. That itch, in the back of his skull— rrgh, head .
“... What stupid song were you humming, anyways?!” He eventually grumbled. “Not that I care— Rgh. Whatever. Just shut up.”
Hound’s head tilted again, and he purposely bored holes with his gaze into the wall opposite them. His foot tapped against the ground, clanking in an impatient rhythm. They stared at him in silence for a long time, and it made that itching at the back of his mind only grow worse.
“... An ancient tune— one of my people.” They eventually replied rather cryptically, once again settling into their seat and turning their attention back to their pet. Revenant just huffed, and if he could roll his eyes, he would’ve. That didn’t fucking help, not at all. The puzzle still felt unsolved, and the nagging sensation that he was missing something didn’t stop.
The announcer boomed over the speakers that they were approaching the drop zone. He grumbled, deciding to stop thinking about it, once and for all. He had better things to focus on anyways— like slaughtering all these idiotic skin suits in the ring.
And yet— he couldn’t stop thinking about it.
The tune— it was stuck in his head now, and no matter how many kills he got in the ring, it continued to haunt him. So much that he felt it even distracted him, and much to his disgruntled disbelief, his squad didn’t even make the top five.
It left him bitter and angry. The more he tried not to think about it, the more the nagging came back with a vengeance. When he was in the practice range, when he was lurking around the common rooms, when he was sitting alone in his room. It was like a disease, eating him alive until he felt like he wanted to slam his dead into the drywall.
What the hell was it?! Jesus, it bothered him something fierce. Where the hell could he had ever heard whatever ‘ancient Viking chant’ they’d been humming so mindlessly along to?! Where could this distant memory come from?!
It wasn’t until a few days later, when it finally hit him. He’d been sitting in his room, slowly descending into madness over this stupid fucking tune, when the stars aligned and it finally clicked.
He practically tore from his room. It was almost three in the morning, but he knew exactly where to find them. Sure enough, as suspected, they were in the communal kitchen.
“We meet again, félagi,” they spoke in an unbothered tone. Their hair, per usual, was a frizzy mess, and they blinked up at him with sleepy eyes— skin looking shiny with some sort of lotion or cream, probably to help with the webs of scarring that surrounded their features. Beside them, their pesky bird was sorting rather disinterestedly through a pile of sunflower seeds.
This time, instead of Oreos, they were eating mint and chip ice cream, directly from the carton. With a fork.
He decided to debate why the fuck they were eating ice cream with a fork later— for now, there was a more pressing matter at hand.
“Africa. By Toto.” He growled, hands clenched tightly by his sides, the words rumbling deep from within his voicebox, dripping with venom.
Bloodhound blinked up at him, confused— before their eyes shone with realization. Artur, like the absolute fiend she was, took their brief moment of distraction as an opportunity to peck at their cursed forkful of ice cream, chittering eagerly with the success of snagging a chocolate chip.
They scolded the bird, pushing her away from the carton, before looking back up to Revenant. He hated how much sheer amusement they seemed to radiate.
“Ah. I see you have good musical taste.” They hummed, and the simulacrum snarled. “You’re just as annoying as Witt and Silva, you know that?!”
“At times, I try.” They replied cooly, lifting another bite of ice cream to their mouth. “I apologize if it was bothering you that much.”
Their tone of voice implied that they were anything but sorry.
Revenant turned on his heel, huffing as he stormed back to his room. Great. Now that he’d realized why it sounded so familiar, he’d never be able to get it out of his head.
“Rest well, félagi.” Hound called, voice sounding all too pleased with themself. “We meet tomorrow on the battlefield.”
He practically slammed the door, not giving a shit if it woke everyone on the damn floor.
I hear the drums echoing tonight, but she only hears the whispers of some quiet conversation…
Damn that hunter and their sense of humor. He hated being made a fool of. But most of all, damn that old-ass catchy tune. He couldn’t believe he wasted brainpower on trying to remember the damned thing.
Yet, even as he stewed in his annoyance, alone in his room, Revenant failed to realize he was tapping the rhythm of that hundreds-year-old song against his frame, metal fingertips clacking quietly in the stillness of the night.