Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

The first thing Revenant registers is a data knife in his neck. He growls and thrashes, and the second thing he registers is that he’s bound up in thick and powerful chains. When did he get knocked out? His eyes flick around the room as he desperately recalls his recent memories, but something pops up behind his eyes - data knife, stealing, memories gone, gonegonegonegone -

And then the knife is gone, glowing a hot orange in a calloused hand that belongs to an old human man, and Revenant recognizes him instantly.

“Blisk,” he snarls, lurching forward despite being dragged back by the chains once more, heavy across his chest.

“Ah, you’re awake,” is all the mercenary says, flicking through the information hidden in the data knife. He’s shirtless, Revenant realizes, bandages wrapped around his shoulder and torso where splotches of blood leak through; there’s some scratches on the human’s arms as well, and his knuckles are bruised and bloody. “Gave me one helluva fight, I’ll give ya that. Pretty tough for an old sim.”

“What?” The word lacks bite, confused. Revenant remembers the fight - it had been the perfect time to strike, Blisk had barely escaped the destruction of an IMC facility. He wasn’t weak, but he had been vulnerable at the time - without his Titan, his ship, temporarily cut off from his employers. Though he’d gotten the drop on Blisk, the man had reacted quickly, and Revenant can still feel the jagged gash across his chest from that.

Blisk is eyeing him critically, as though he’s nothing more than a prize to be sold as spoils of war. He grunts, “I see. You’re one of them.”

“One of what ?” Revenant snarls, struggling again. He flexes his hand, tries to find the blade hidden in his sleeve, and then slumps when his latest attempt is futile, staring up at Blisk disdainfully. “Just kill me already, I don’t have anything interesting to tell you.”

“Perhaps not,” Blisk agrees as he rifles through a duffel bag to the side, “but you’re too good to return to your senders.” He pulls out a small tube that unfolds into a mirror, average portrait size, and he holds it at his side as he approaches the assassin, remaining a respectful distance.

“Am I now?” Revenant raises a curious brow.

“Not everyone can have their chest nearly torn out and live,” Blisk replies easily, “or continue fightin’ as you did.” The mirror swings at his side languidly. “You probably got a thousand an’ one reasons why everythin’ works the way it does, but I’m not gonna listen to you blather on about it, I’m just gonna show you.”

“Show. Me. Wh-” he doesn’t get a chance to finish his confused demand as Blisk holds the mirror up in front of him. “W-Wait…”

He goes slack-jawed. Or, at least, gets the emotional feeling of it because an unmoving skull stares back at him, locked in permanent neutrality, as deep gold eyes bore into him. Something in him snaps, and he screams, “What did you DO to me?!”

“ I didn’t do anything,” Blisk says calmly, reaching down to grab Revenant’s arm. The grip is firm and Blisk forces him to stare at the back of his hand. “ Look .”

He stares blankly at the symbol on the back of his hand, body going limp as his mind recalls every instance of it. There’s a sick feeling in him and he retches, mind wanting him to gag and throw up, and he goes limp, head bowed.

“Can’t imagine how that feels,” Blisk speculates, flipping the data knife. “280 years is a lot of time t’ lose.”

Revenant grumbles, shifting uncomfortably as his hands flex within the binds. “Nothing to lose but my sanity. IMC is Hammond, isn’t it? I ought to kill you before I go on to slaughter everyone else in this fucking war.”

“I’m just a middleman, mercenary with a contract that’s quite well ended with ‘em at the moment,” Blisk answers honestly, taking a cautious step back. He looks thoughtful, staring at the data knife before flipping it and then flicking it into a boot sheathe. “You wanna kill ‘em, hm? The ones that did this to ya?”

“They’re long dead now,” Revenant spits, growling low in his throat. “I want that company in the fucking ground .”

A strange silence settles over them as Blisk contemplates the now-realized simulacrum’s words. His gaze is thoughtful but distant, contemplating hidden options as he mulls over consequences before he sighs, “How’s about an offer, eh, sim?”

“What? You bring me back to them and get paid handsomely for my ‘safe return’?” Revenant provides sarcastically.

“A tempting idea, and one I considered for a moment,” Blisk admits though he doesn’t look remotely apologetic, “but I think they’re not using you to your fullest potential.”

He kneels in front of Revenant once more, more relaxed now that he knows that he certainly has the upper hand over the simulacrum. His hands rest on his knees, and he gestures at Revenant as he explains, “I’ve got an upcoming contract with the ARES Division - that’s gonna have the legacy that made you. You wanna cause damage to them from the inside? Join the Apex Predators and you can waste as much of their resources as you want.”

Revenant quietly considers it, bright orange optics studying Blisk intently. “How do I know you won’t turn me in if they find out about this breach of contract?”

Blisk grins. “What kind of sane human reads a contract in its entirety? I’m sure they won’t notice some amendments.” He walks behind Revenant, unlocking the chains before clapping a hand on the assassin’s shoulder. “So? What do you say?”

The simulacrum stands slowly, rolling his shoulders, and staring at his newly revealed body. Slowly, the fragments in his mind start to come together, the gaps in his life beginning to make sense - Blisk’s offer would make his life easier, hunting down Hammond and IMC employees alike. Going into the heart of his creators’ division, however? It’s too good to pass up.

“Fine, but as soon as we’re done with this division and the contract’s up, I’m out ,” he growls, but Blisk merely smiles and laughs.

“Whatever you say, little sim,” he says, grin wide and toothy as he wraps his arm around Revenant’s broad shoulders and starts leading him deeper into the ship. “But, first, let’s get you kitted out with a Titan and… maybe get some practical gear for your skinny arms, yeah?”

Revenant chooses a Ronin-class Titan and is assigned a Titan A.I. named BP-4266 which he lengthens to Baphomet and earns a bark of laughter from Blisk. Baphomet is a quiet A.I. and seems to understand Revenant’s situation, uttering a simple greeting and taking a likening to their new name.

“We are partners now,” Baphomet says after Revenant installs the optic into the Ronin chassis. The optic shifts, focusing on the simulacrum. “Although we Apex Predators do not follow the same protocols as other Titans, I will protect you to the best of my abilities, Pilot Revenant.”

“Hm,” Revenant hums in acknowledgement, hands running over the Titan’s chassis. The default colors match the Apex Predators’ - varying shades of deep reds with a splash of white splattered across; the symbol is stamped on the left shoulder and Revenant had even found a large pair of decorative horns to attach on to the top. “Do you feel?”

“Are you referring to experiencing emotion?” Baphomet asks as Revenant climbs on top of them. “Not to the complexity of simulacra or humans. I do not feel fear, but I am powered by the effects of fear response.”

“Fight or flight?”

“That is one way of putting it.” Baphomet reaches up and takes Revenant into their hands gently, bringing him down so that they’re optic to optic. “What do you fear, Pilot?”

The simulacrum is silent for a few moments, though not contemplative, and he eventually murmurs, “I don’t know.”

Baphomet blinks. “I understand.”

They don’t pry. Revenant likes them all the more for that.

At a gentle tap, the chassis opens and Revenant curls up in the chair, finding comfort in being surrounded by Baphomet. It’s a kind of safety he realizes he hasn’t felt in a long time, now that he’s come to terms with the decades that have passed. Safehouse to safehouse, and none of them could compare to the warmth that Baphomet has, their hand hovering just underneath the exposed opening as the chassis shifts quietly, like a waiting beast.

Revenant doesn’t know much about the Pilots - they were never considered on his hitlist, not until Blisk at least. They’re a whole other caliber that he couldn’t hope to compare as evidenced in his brief fight against Blisk, but the man had expressed interest in seeing his full set of skills now that he was… Realized, as the mercenary put it. Technically, he belongs among them now, but he figures he’ll always keep an arm’s length from it all regardless.

“Enjoyin’ your new buddy?” Blisk asks, standing on the catwalk in front of the cockpit.

“I like ‘em well enough,” Revenant says, giving Baphomet a light pat and receiving a pleased shudder in return. “Need something?”

“Contract revisions are done,” the mercenary explains, waving a datapad. “Addendum for ya that allows free reign of ARES Division facilities and unfiltered use of resources and personnel. Won’t be hard to slip that past ‘em, I can tell ya that.”

He tosses the contract over for Revenant to scan, significant bits and pieces being highlighted automatically in the simulacrum’s neural HUD before it’s handed back a few seconds later. “Just confusing enough to discourage reading it thoroughly, hm?”

“Exactly,” Blisk grins, tossing a wink his way. “Go on, get suited up. We gotta pick up some new mates before turnin’ this in. Pretend you’re bein’ forced into your Sunday best, yeah?”

Revenant chances a sloppy two-fingered salute before he slinks out of Baphomet, mumbling, “Yeah, yeah. Guessing they’re not gonna be nice playmates anyways.”

“Wouldn’t expect any less from the Apex Predators, but we take care of our own in the end. Don’t forget that.”

We take care of our own.

Our own.

We.

Revenant presses a hand to his chest, claws scratching there hopelessly at the strange pressure there.

He likes the sound of ‘we’.

Maybe this new life of destruction won’t be so bad after all.

Chapter Text

Revenant listens to everyone die on comms. one by one, and he doesn't know if he's remorseful for their loss, if he should feel any sort of sadness for them - he hadn't known them long, hadn't formed a connection with them as deeply as he's connected to Blisk. He aches for them as they go, and he lets his temporary grief drive him forward as he's sent to an old ARES facility to protect the ruins there. Something about an old experiment that had been partially discovered, something about finding a time travel device before that Hero Pilot that's been wandering around.

The simulacrum scuttles in the old vents, claws digging into the rusted metal as he avoids the Fliers and Prowlers that have been freed from their cages and now run rampant through the ruins of the old research facility. Not only does he not want to deal with the wildlife, but Baphomet informs him that the Pilot is here - the Vanguard Titan with him is more observant than others, if Revenant startles the wildlife now, they'll definitely know he's here. He doesn't know where the alleged device is and is counting deeply on the Pilot's unawareness to lead him to it.

"Pilot Revenant," Baphomet says suddenly while Revenant is watching the Militia Pilot fight off a small gathering of broken Spectres, "I am detecting a surge of temporal anomalies in your immediate area. Please proceed with caution."

Revenant grunts in acknowledgement, turning away from the Pilot and activates his digital map of the vents. "What am I doin' with the tech once I find it?"

"This is of mercenary reason. Blisk desires it for the Apex Predators' personal armories."

"Hm," he hums, limbs causing eerie skittering to echo through the ventilation. "We have Phase Shift tech already."

"Indeed," the Ronin agrees. "Based on limited information I could siphon from Militia files, however, this time tech does not transport the user into a different dimension but directly back in time of the immediate area."

"How far back?" If Revenant could get his hands on that...

"Unfortunately, not that far. From what I can glean, the max amount of time one could travel back would be two weeks." The disappointment in the simulacrum wells up instantly, but he can still see the merit in using this time tech, can understand why Blisk would want it for himself, and it doesn't drive Revenant to betray the man and not seek out the tech.

"Shoddy looking thing," Revenant speculates through the vent, peering at the other half of a Militiaman's body where the missing arm sticks out, the mysterious tech flickering languidly. The simulacrum moves the grate to the side and drops down quietly, hand wrapping around the corpse's wrist slowly.

"Hey!" A loud voice calls out followed by a bullet bouncing off of Revenant's shoulder, and his gaze whips toward the source, golden optics drilling into the glow of the Hero Pilot's visor with burning curious desire. "Get away from that!"

"Or, what?" Revenant sneers, remaining crouched, hands splayed against the ground. "Your little peashooter there isn't gonna hurt me all that much, and your buddy outside sure as hell can't fit in here suddenly."

"You really wanna test my patience, bud?" the man warns, pulling out an EVA-8 from behind and pumping it menacingly. "I'm giving you a chance to walk away - I've had enough of you Apex assholes today."

"Yeah?" The simulacrum's hand flexes at his side, lifted outward as the blade forms. "Wanna test that?"

The man doesn't falter, and Revenant gives him credit for that, especially since the others seemed to assume he was just a Grunt before all this. "Just give me the glove and we can both part ways peacefully."

"Or, I could gut you like a fish and leave with the tech - let you be at peace forever." The man tenses at that, and they stare at each other in uneasy silence for several moments before Revenant laughs, a deep and unsettling sound that starts low in his throat, full and heavy. "You aren't afraid. I like that."

He rips the glove off of the corpse, tosses it in his hand before throwing it at the Pilot who catches it deftly. "I'll let you use it. Your mission isn't a concern to me, my contract is a little different than my fellow Predators'. I want that gauntlet. You need it, but not forever."

"You want it back when I'm done," the Pilot concludes slowly, cautiously slipping the device onto his wrist.

"Smart boy," Revenant croons as his wrist twitches and his silencer orb floats out, twirling languidly just above his palm. "See this? It's a silencer. Doesn't matter what the tech is - one of these, and your toys don't work. I see you running away with that tech? I'm shutting down you and your Titan and slicing you both apart before you can blink, understand?"

The Militia Pilot is quiet for a minute, contemplating his choices before sighing, "Fine, but no promises that this thing won't burn out before I'm done."

"Better hope it remains in one piece, then, or the Militia's poster boys are goin' back to them in pieces," Revenant growls in affirmation. "Besides, a guinea pig won't hurt."

His name is Cooper and he's blessedly silent as far as Revenant is concerned. The first time he travels between timestreams, he comes back disoriented and spins in a brief circle, staring at the area before muttering, "Holy shit."

Revenant hears the external mic cut off, knows that if he were human, he wouldn't be able to hear Cooper mumbling in his helmet to his Titan, and though he can't exactly make out the conversation, he's at least aware of what's going on in the Militia Pilot's silence. The simulacrum waits patiently for Cooper to truly fall quiet before asking, "So, what's on the other side?"

"It's bright," Cooper mutters. "Facility is working, people are there. It really works."

At the mention of people, Revenant's optics brighten beneath his helmet and his shoulders tense. "It's active? Let me see."

"What? No, you get this when I'm done, I'm not done," the Militia Pilot protests, shifting his arm away when Revenant reaches out to touch the gauntlet device.

"Let. Me. See!" Revenant demands, extending his arm so that he can switch the device on. It hums, glowing a faded blue, before it flashes and the rust and overgrowth on the ground fade away, turning into pristine marble floors and metal walls. He watches as an IMC scientist enters the room through a perfectly working door, and his instincts go haywire - the man barely has time to look up from his work before he's speared on Revenant's arm, choking and gurgling.

"Hey!" Cooper shouts as Revenant lets the body slide off his arm, flicking his hands out to get rid of the blood coating it. He grabs at Revenant's shoulder roughly, the simulacrum immediately turning and slamming him into the nearest wall, holding him up by the vest. A hand grabs Revenant's wrist but he doesn't feel the Pilot struggle, merely flexing his hand and the gauntlet reactivates and returns them to the present. The wall he's pressed up against collapses under the pressure and they both go tumbling to the ground amidst dust and leaves. "What the hell was that?"

"The Militia isn't the only one who wants the IMC to pay," Revenant spits, clambering off of the human. "I have a contract with them, yeah, but that doesn't mean I'm protecting them."

"Isn't that-" Cooper coughs, waving dust from his face as he gets up, "Isn't that the point of a contract?"

"Do you know anyone who reads contracts thoroughly? I'm getting paid to waste their shit, and if I've got a shot at wasting this facility again myself, I might as well fucking try." Revenant reaches out to grab Cooper's wrist again. "Take me back."

"No!" The Militia Pilot steps back, raising his arm away from the simulacrum. "If you want this device so bad, you gotta stop straining it! Besides, what makes you think I'm gonna let you go back in time to murder defenseless scientists?"

"'Defenseless'?" Revenant growls. "Aren't you fighting these people? Why would you care whether they have a weapon on them or not? They ruined your home, they ruined my life! They're already dead, you can't go spouting your moral Militia bullshit when the outcome doesn't change for them!" He leans in close to the Pilot, looming over him dangerously, and Cooper puffs up defensively, hand hovering over his Wingman. "I could kill you right now and end this whole fucking war in an instant. You will not lecture me about morality when we're desecrating a mass grave with that thing on your wrist."

Cooper stares intently at him, scowling underneath his helmet, before looking away and grumbling, "Fine. Fine! Just stop piggy-backing, it strains the device."

"Whatever."

When Cooper steps outside to reunite with his Titan, Revenant goes back into the vents - despite their temporary alliance, that Titan would definitely not hesitate to obliterate him on sight just for being an Apex Predator. Something about protocols and protecting the Pilot.

"Pilot Revenant," Baphomet reenters the comm. link. "Your signal disappeared momentarily."

"The gauntlet works," the simulacrum explains, watching Cooper and his Pilot converse just on the outskirts of what looks to be a ruined testing site. "That Pilot, Cooper, he's here. I let him have the gauntlet, for now."

"Why?"

"Face it, Baph," Revenant explains, watching as the Vanguard Titan throws a defunct wireline like a javelin at an opening in a far-side building, "those two are single-handedly turning the tide for the Militia. They killed Kane and Ash - you've seen the footage of their combat, their efficiency exceeds 90%. Lastimosa chose that Grunt for a reason - whatever that reason, it's why they've made it this far. We're better off letting them get what they want."

"You want more IMC dead."

"Of course. I prefer doing the dirty work myself, but this is war. I can use the tech in the long run, find the better targets that could slip through my fingers." He lets his dark laughter ring through the vents. "I can play the waiting game, no one will escape me after this."

When the prototype explodes, everything stops.

Baphomet's hand is curled halfway around Revenant which he easily sidesteps, confused. He looks ahead, toward the test site where the ruins of the gyroscopic rings are now full and frozen in the midst of their spins. The simulacrum spots an orb pulse intently in the middle of it all, dipping in and out of existence, and he sees Cooper standing near a broken platform, staring up at it.

"Cooper?" the simulacrum calls out, startling the Militia Pilot.

"Wh- How?" Cooper looks around. "Everything else is..."

"I'm guessing this is all your doing." The simulacrum watches as explosions filter in and out, pushes an IMC Grunt out of his way so that he ends up faceplanting into the concrete.

"It, uh," Cooper hesitates, holding up the gauntlet. "I think it broke. Too many timestreams."

Revenant grunts, swiping it off Cooper's wrist. "Not your problem anymore. Go."

"Where?"

"I think your only way out is in there." The simulacrum points at the flickering orb, neural HUD fritzing as it tries to scan whatever's in there before he looks away, turning back to Baphomet. "You hit a lot of IMC. You honored your end of the deal. You're good in my book, kid. Don't take my mercy for granted, the other Predators are gunning to kill you. Now get me the hell out of here."

And Cooper disappears.

Revenant looks down at the gauntlet, watching it flicker, before placing a silencer over it, toning down the power so that it was more akin to putting out a virtual fire. The world blinks around him before settling on a time. 

The explosion throws the nearby IMC Grunts and Titans back and rumbles through the ground, shaking the area dangerously as debris flies in all different directions and Baphomet continues their action of curling their hand around Revenant protectively before pulling him into their chassis, making sure he's secure inside.

"Pilot Revenant," the Ronin Titan rumbles in warning.

"I know," Revenant placates, gently patting his partner. "I think we can spend some time in here. Make sure as many of these skinsuits don't escape this pathetic facility alive. I want to hear them scream."

"As you wish, Pilot."

Chapter Text

“Is this what you intended?” Revenant watches the multitude of ships and drones descend on the once-deserted island. His posture is stiff, arms crossed tightly over his chest as he gazes across the amalgam of land.

“Somewhat,” Blisk replies after a moment of silence, choosing his words carefully. “Remnant Fleet’s gone, Militia’s dissolved - Pilots and jobs for Pilots are hard to come across now. The Syndicate thinks it’s got the Apex Predators on a leash, and we can find our new squad through this bloodsport they insist on starting.”

“They’ll rig it,” the simulacrum points out bluntly. “Give it a few years and for the skinsuits outside to fall in love - they’ll start rigging the outcome for the favorites.”

“Undoubtedly.” Revenant chances a glance down at Blisk and nearly sighs. The man looks weary, decades of war finally wearing on him, and Revenant can see the mental exhaustion in those old steel-blue eyes. He keeps quiet, though, because he knows that Blisk still has fight in him - will probably go down fighting as an Apex Predator as he constantly claims, Revenant can never doubt that, but that doesn’t stop it eroding him. Humans are just like that. “Even if it is rigged, there's still some genuinity in the skills. The saying still stands, Revenant.”

If you kill them, you’re better. If they kill you, they’re better.

“So, what exactly is our job?” Revenant shifts his gaze inward where they’re in an overview tower just outside the island. 

“A bit of everything,” Blisk explains, turning to run his hand over an inactive panel full of switches and buttons. “Loot cycling, Ring placement, squad rotation. There’s a dumbed down version of Spyglass that’s supposed to help us, but like you said, I don’t trust the Syndicate a rat’s ass to not subject it to rigging.” He pauses at a center panel where two buttons with glass covers glitter in the low light.

“Is that for us?” Revenant asks, hand gliding over the emergency covers curiously.

“Looks like it. ‘Emergency Titanfall Intervention’,” Blisk lets out a harsh bark of laughter at that, startling the engineers in the back of the room. “Looks like they don’t want their shiny new competitors to get too violent in the arena.”

“That takes out half the fun,” the simulacrum complains. “What kind of bloodsport are they going for?”

“Maybe the kind you old people can watch so the Syndicate doesn’t get a wave of ‘good griefs’ in their complaints.” The old mercenary jabs Revenant in the side, earning a displeased growl.

“Watch it, old man, I may be old but at least I don’t age gracelessly like you skinbags.”

“Oh, yeah? Wanna take on these old aging bones, little sim?” At that, Revenant huffs and looks away - Blisk may have his years catching up to him, but the man is still stronger and more agile than he looks.

“Who’s opening up the roster when these Games open, anyways?”

“Oi, don’t go changing the subject.”

“I can do whatever I want. Where’s the roster?”

“Coward.”

“Fossil fuel.”

Looking over the specifics of the sport, Revenant begins to understand the system somewhat - though it doesn’t deter his thoughts of rigging. Having a ranking system like this - the top competitors becoming so-called Apex Legends? That’s something that would be subject to more than just rigging - the Predator can already see the bribes, the hacks, the fabrications to reach the top. If the Apex Predators wanted to find suitable replacements, they’d have to focus on weeding out the top competitors.

“Have you thought of joining?” Revenant grunts as he swipes through the future fighters that would join the opening season. Cross-referencing names in the database, there aren’t many interesting names joining at the moment though the simulacrum recognizes some mercenaries from smaller groups and a few even pop up as ex-IMC.

“A few times,” Blisk admits, looking over the details of the arena. “Fought a bit in the Thunderdome over there before the IMC brats complained that I wasn’t fair competition.”

“What, you used Big Red to scare ‘em off?” At that, Blisk lets out a short laugh, a small smirk forming.

“Only when all of them teamed up against me.” The human nudges the taller mercenary questioningly. “You?”

“Maybe.” Revenant’s optics drift over to the symbol on the far wall, spindly fingers drifting over the matching symbol on the back of his hand. “We reusing symbols now? No originality in these people.”

“Not like you’re a Gen 5 Pilot anymore, dunno why you keep that symbol,” Blisk points out. “Gen chips were updated decades ago, anyways.”

Revenant grunts at that, muttering something akin to never getting around to repainting the symbol. His first regeneration had, admittedly, been a bit frightening since Blisk couldn’t promise that Hammond wouldn’t take control while he was out, but he’d woken up to remembering who he was and with reinforced reflexes and a thirst for blood. Blisk had congratulated him and given him a small tag indicating his regeneration count. It ended up being a good excuse to cover up those symbols on the back of his hands though he had slacked off around his fifth regeneration, leaving the symbol of a triangular A for the next couple decades.

His thoughts drift over to the Apex Games, and he’s glad that his scowl isn’t visible. Hammond and the Syndicate definitely know he’s behind the mysterious murders of their employees that have occurred over the past thirty or so years; going into the Apex Games would be something that they’d want, they can keep him there, trapped under contracts that he can’t revise. It’s bad enough they’ve got the Apex Predators to be Commissioners for the Games, but Revenant still has an amount of freedom that he wouldn’t have if he entered the Games themselves.

He supposes if he were just a little more bloodthirsty, he would enter the Games with fervent enthusiasm. The years have hardened him as a Pilot but softened him as an assassin. He finds that he can’t complain, though, doesn’t want to think of what he’d become if he hadn’t met Blisk - he wouldn’t say he’s merciful, though; he simply has a stronger conscience rather than being a bloodthirsty killing machine. He gets money, Hammond dies, he ignores his long life.

But, he can wait them out. A standstill can only last so long, and when you’re immortal, you have all the time in the world.

The first intervention happens six months after the Apex Games debuts to the Outlands. The respawn system is still glitchy, but Revenant didn’t think it’d falter badly enough to shut down completely and instill an in-game halt.

There hadn’t been many firefights happening when Blisk made the announcement for the competitors to cease fire, and everyone had stopped immediately, having never heard the man’s voice in the arena before. The cameras and live feeds shut down instantly, though they notice that there’s no decrease in viewership, the confusion evidently exciting especially after one of the competitors doesn’t get back up before the feeds disconnect. Revenant doesn't doubt people are hacking their way into the cams at the moment either, but he can't find it in himself to really care.

“Today’s match is cancelled. Standby for evacuation,” Blisk says into the microphone before clicking off with a frustrated noise. “Fuckin’ ridiculous. I ain’t dealin’ with the public when there’s a dead body out there.”

“You sayin’ you want me to go out there?” Revenant scoffs, metaphorical brow raising.

“No, neither of us are goin’ out there, y’hear? I’m not feeding into the drama they want to start,” Blisk waves a hand at the wall of screens in front of them still displaying the disoriented competitors. “Dunno how this’ll affect their stats. It’s a good thing we didn’t- oh damn it !” Blisk leans over to the external microphone again, eyes focused on the squads who look like they’re ready to shoot each other, and Revenant rolls his optics as the Predator shouts, “Hey, hey! Break it up, you morons! You don’t get paid if you’re dead ! Fuck!” Blisk slaps the console as gunfire rings out and hits one of the competitors, the glow of a purple shield ripples over them steadily, though.

“Revenant, I need you down there, now ! We don’t need more bodies stacking up!”

“On it,” Revenant grumbles, already turning to climb up the hatch. Baphomet and Big Red are on standby on the heli-pad, sparring to keep their efficiency up though they stop when Revenant approaches. “Get your kit, Baph, we gotta step in.”

“ Understood, ” the Titan rumbles, lumbering to the side to grab their shotgun as Big Red looks out toward the island curiously. “ What is the location, Pilot? ”

Revenant pulls up the feeds on his neural HUD, selecting the camera focused on the ongoing fight before saying, “Skull Town, the hills just behind it.”

“ Acknowledged .” The Titan picks up the simulacrum, placing him in their chassis before the automated dropship picks them up, securing them in the mag-clamps. “ Coordinates received. ”

As the dropship flies to Skull Town, Revenant watches as other dropships begin flying in, landing at scattered locations throughout Kings Canyon. Though the entire island hadn’t been used for this particular match, most of the supplies had been focused near the Bridges, and many squads had landed there as evidenced by the cluster of dropships heading there. Strange how the isolated groups are the ones that get into a fight.

“ Prepare for Titanfall, ” Baphomet announces before the mag-clamps detach, and they hurtle towards the earth. They land heavily, nearly sink into the sand as the dunes fly up between the squabbling squads, and Revenant is quick to pull out the shotgun before placing down a shield. Though Baphomet is still technically a Ronin-class Titan, Blisk had suggested upgrading them with defensive capabilities if they were going to be breaking up fights between squads, and Revenant was glad to have taken him up on that suggestion.

“When we say hold your fire, you STOP FUCKING SHOOTING EACH OTHER!” Revenant roars, planting his sword in the sand in front of the offending squad so that their bullets bounce off the metal and ricochet into the distance. The bullets bouncing back at them gets the squad to stop shooting, and they stare, wide-eyed, up at Baphomet. “Put. The. Guns. Down. Now .”

The reaction is immediate, R-301s and R-99s falling to the sands below as the squad holds their hands up in terrified surrender. Certain that they won’t try to pick them up again nor pass the shield, Revenant turns to the other squad who sits behind up and stares with that same awe.

“Is everyone alright?” He asks gruffly as Baphomet’s gaze roams over the three of them.

“Yeah, we’re fine, nothin’ some shield cells can’t fix,” the largest of the three says - Gibraltar, Revenant thinks his name is. He’s all genuine grins and a cheerful man despite having just experienced near actual death. “Thanks for showin’ up, brotha, don’t think we woulda lasted another second.”

“Hm,” Revenant grunts before turning to grab the sword though he keeps the shield up. “I’ll be escorting you to a different extraction point. You’ll be delivered directly to medical.” He makes sure to position Baphomet’s chassis between the squads, before turning to the instigators. “You three will remain here. A dropship will pick you up, but if you follow or I hear more gunfire in this area, I won’t hesitate to make sure you don’t see the light of fucking day again, you hear me?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, turning to escort the squad to their new extraction which would be at the ghost town between Thunderdome and the Airbase. He doesn’t say anything when he notices that they keep their weapons in hand, letting it slide quietly as they walk along. The dropship’s arrival is immediate, hovering at the tallest building and the crew lets down a rope for the squad to use as Revenant waits for them to board. Gibraltar is last, hesitating before turning to the Pilot and Titan, saying more seriously, “Thanks, you two. I came here to protect my friends who joined, but it’s good to know you’re just around the corner.”

“Careful,” Revenant warns. “They’ll milk you of that for all it’s worth.”

Gibraltar’s grin returns as he grabs the rope, remarking, “I’ve heard lots ‘bout you Pilots. Money’s where it’s at in the end, eh?”

“Not just Pilots, but you get the gist.” Revenant gestures with an arm. “Go on. Get outta here.”

At that, Gibraltar laughs and ascends the rope, the dropship immediately taking off as soon as he gets in the bay.

Revenant switches to the Predator comms. as he descends the building, Baphomet’s HUD marking the Bridges to go patrol next as the mass of competitors evac from there, “Isn’t that the guy that you suggested to be one of the first Legends?”

“Gibraltar?” Blisk clarifies. “Yeah, great stats, good kid. Looks like he’s fairly popular, too.”

“Guessin’ that means it would’ve been a PR nightmare if he died, worse than usual. Think this was some kind of sabotage or assassination?”

“Hm, I wouldn’t put it past anyone out here in the Outlands,” Blisk mutters. “I’ll check that other squad, see if there’s any kind of grief or potential hits.”

“We better get extra out of this.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m old, Rev, but I haven’t forgotten about our price tags.”

Money’ll be good, but I’m not in the mood for murder mysteries , Revenant thinks with a scowl as he watches the Syndicate descend like flies on the unfortunate body nearby.

“Vultures, the lot of them,” Blisk grumbles. “Never trust the Syndicate, y’hear me, Rev?”

“What does it mean, then, that we’re working for them?” the simulacrum growls, hands curling over the control panel. “They’ve been gunning for us to join the Council and now we’re just… leashed . There’s gotta be a better way to find more Predators.”

There’s a quiet sigh from Blisk before he murmurs, “You know we’re here for more than that.”

Revenant goes quiet at that, watching as the Syndicate poke and prod the body of the dead competitor. How easy it would be to simply crush them, to have Baphomet swipe at them with their sword and watch as their bodies fly. He thinks of crushing their bones, peeling back their skin. Watch their hearts beat slower and slow, and their lungs breathe their last breaths. It’s all so… tempting. The bloodlust is familiar, the need to watch life leave their eyes, to revel in how easy it is to kill them.

His hands shake as he turns away, focusing instead on the dropships as they filter away with their precious cargo. It’s been getting harder to quell the need, but he knows that Blisk is right - that the search for Predators is only the surface of it all.

The Syndicate would fall, eventually.

And after the Syndicate, Hammond would follow.