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There is a lot of issues to come with being a once human mind encased in a robotic body, not knowing you are actually a simulacrum and thinking you have always been you for years only for a failure in programming to show you what a nightmare by design you actually are, this would awaken mental issues in one who went through this, spark physical pains as the memories of thousands gruesome deaths hit them, learning to accept and suppress programmed emotions, adjusting to this new found fact and learned immortality. It would be hard certainly and being robotic had its flaws, even being human had flaws. Nothing in the world is perfect. However, something that wouldn't be an issue would be memory. Unlike humans, a software like the mind of one of these sims did not forget, anything and everything would be encoded and stored. You could wipe it's memory, yes, but that's easily restored. Once someone uploads something, there's a slim chance you can remove it. This would either be a curse or a nightmare for one.
Truthfully, Revenant found this a curse if anything. Actually, he found everything about being a simulacrum a curse. It was his problem and murder was his escape, the taste of revenge.
That was always his plan — Inflict every inch of agony that humans programmed into him, destroy them for turning him into this. Humans were cruel, vile. They loved death but they couldn't admit it, even when they feared death immensely, it was kind of their guilty pleasure. Who didn't gather around for a funeral or gossip the latest passing? If you can't beat them, join them, I suppose that was his mindset.
It was ironic. Humans built him to kill who they didn't have the courage to kill themselves and now, the same hitman has turned around in rebellion and is trying to kill them.
Revenant enjoyed the idea of being death, being the grim reaper, the boogeyman, the devil. He heard their nicknames for him and he reveled in it. They feared what they created and he wouldn't have it any other way.
In regards to memory, he had no idea of who he used to be. What his name once was, who his family and friends were. Sometimes he dreamed when he slept, although he wouldn't sleep like humans, it would be simulated and sort of a standby mode, like when your PC shuts off when it's not being used. That was his sleep. Much like humans, dreams were concocted by memories, thoughts, etc. A blurry face, a faint voice, unfamiliar, a gentle and needing touch, laughing, joy, voices that didn't belong to either him or the legends he'd grown used to, it felt like he knew them but he didn't recognise them. Of course it occurred to him that they may be memories of his once human form, seeping into programming. As mentioned earlier, memories were never truly deleted; Removed but not gone.
Humans were not so lucky or unlucky, depending on how you saw it. Their brains depleted slowly, sometimes they forgot basic things, where they put the keys or what day it is, sometimes they forgot a lot more than that.
Revenant unfortunately was immortal and unable to forget.
He was beyond cursed in his mind, this was a living Hell.
Perhaps the most soul crushing part of it was watching something he had become weak around forget who he was, his entire existence being wiped bit by bit, day by day from the mind of something he had grown to adore. Once he hated him, he would take pleasure in picking apart his dying, feeble human body, his voice grating and cocky. The sim imagined crushing the skinbag and whispering degrading words into his ears as he slowly perished in his arms, crushing that pathetic ego and tearing apart every inch of confidence til it left the trickster writhing and self-deprecating. Sometimes he got to do this, within the ring and all — There it was a free for all. Alas he learned to adore this display, not only the display but the person himself beneath it all.
What hurt was watching Mirage fall into insanity, total oblivion. Not a single idea of what was going on, blissfully ignorant. Revenant didn't find himself weak but he could barely stand around and watch it, his words oblivious and quite frankly, joyful, it was extremely different to how he used to be. It didn't feel like the same man he fell disgustingly in love with, it was like the empty shell of it, it wasn't Elliott.
Silence ticked by in the room, the quiet whirring of advanced mechanics within the simulacrum's chassis became overwhelming as he stood over the bed. Looming, eyes locked on Elliott who slept soundly. It's peaceful, nearly violently peaceful, it makes Revenant's hand twitch nervously, flexing then curling into fists by his side.
Humans would often put a sick dog down. You don't drag it out and keep it alive, you just put it out of its misery. Death was certainly a kindness. With his own hands, Revenant could give Mirage what the sim would never get to experience, let the man die peacefully, already in a slumber, it was as blissful as he could picture a death.
Hands trailing across the blanket, feeling the silk fabric at his fingertips while he travels along the side of the bed, approaching his lover's side. His components hitch slightly, giving a shaky breath as metal comes in contact with skin, cupping a cheek gently. Brittle breaths escape parted lips, eyes shut lazily, there's no tension from Mirage's body, even just looking at him, curled on his side, blankets pulled over him as he gets his beauty sleep. Revenant imagines a witty comment from him, something along the lines of how he couldn't be as attractive without his beauty sleep, how he has to look great one way or another, a crooked grin and wink. Instead all he gets is gentle breaths.
Revenant's claw on Mirage's cheek moves, lovingly stroking tanned skin until he slips away. He wraps his hand around the throat of his dozing companion, he doesn't apply any pressure, processing the situation with great thought as a hand sits on his throat.
Could he do this?
He's put down one too many humans before, this was not his first and definitely not his last. It wasn't even his first time killing Mirage, no, certainly not, he slaughtered him time and time again during games, but this wasn't really like killing Mirage. Mirage was the confident, cocky, careless and charming man that played a bloodsport, Elliott was everything else he was, outside of the games and deep down within. True and genuine feelings.
He was Elliott.
Could Revenant kill Elliott?
His fingers twitch, squeezing into Elliott's neck as he stresses over the choice he has to make right now.
"Rev?" A familiar voice whispers tiredly, snapping the sim out of his trance. His eyes dart to meet Elliott's, his face scrunched in confusion as he stares up at the sim, curls hanging loosely over one eye. He always looked charming as ever, even when he was sleepy and just waking up. The mention of his name sparks alertness in Revenant, hope growing in his chest. "Hey, uh — Do you know where… Revenant is?"
Said hope is gone, shattered, it's like a bullet piercing skin, then bone, then running out the other side, leaving a hole and a bleeding man. He looked him dead in the eye, gold optics gazing into squinted brown eyes and asked where he was. He couldn't believe it. That's gotta be a funny joke, right? He doesn't know what to do or say, hand still resting on his throat, he wanted to be angry at Mirage but could he? Humans weren't programmed. It wasn't his fault that his brain corroded away, losing touch with reality and forgetting what was real and what was not but it stung. Perhaps Rev needed someone to blame and who else other than the only other one in the room? Instead he looks away, his hand dragging away from the dangerous grip on his throat. The other man gazes confusedly still, eyes jumping from the sims hand to his face until he notices eyes look away, to which he perks himself up in the bed with his hands. He's groggy, tired — He didn't quite remember falling asleep here. He barely recognized the room, maybe he drank too much last night. Never again. He was getting too old for this.
The shuffling of bed covers as Mirage sits up irritates Revenant, his thoughts rampaging in his mind as his software works to plan his next line of action.
He leaves.
Turning on his heels and stalking out into an empty corridor, letting the door fall shut behind. He leaves Mirage alone, clueless and tired and he doesn't feel a single bit of guilt for it. Should've killed him while he had the chance. It was too painful to look him in the eye and act like everything was fine. It was heartbreaking and that's say something considering Revenant didn't even own a heart, not a real one. He barely even felt compassion, Mirage sparked that in him.
"Hey, jackass," a grating voice calls, feminine and familiar. It's the soldiers. She had her own little label for him and it pissed him off, just as much as skinbags pissed off all the others. "Is he awake?"
Revenant pauses in his leave, head tilting back to look behind at Bangalore, eyes narrow, almost a scowl but his face is relatively blank, it always was. Hammond never gave him a malleable face. It wouldn't make sense to do that anyways, too much effort for a piece of scrap metal. He lets out a deep scoff, vibrations coming from his chassis, it's a simple 'heh' as he stares her down, she doesn't react however, beyond used to the murder bots sounds and actions. He didn't scare her, not enough to act differently around him at the least. He seemed to be all bark, no bite until they got into the arena, which suited Bang.
"Oh, he's awake." He says, twisting his body to properly face her. "Don't bother, he won't remember you."
Saying that sentence hurts, knowing that Mirage didn't remember him either. He acted so cold and uninterested but it was destroying him inside, it ached physically. He doesn't even notice Anita's change in stance and glare, "You talk a lot of shit. Are you really leaving him alone like that?"
He's taken back, head tilting at the woman across from him. She knew all too well, she knew of their little affair they had going on and she knew that the over the top computer felt something human for Mirage.
"Have you even spoken to him? At all this week?"
Revenant stays silent. He's resentful, not so much of Bangalore who stated pure facts and was pouring salt in wounds but at himself, she was correct. Her lips pursed with her furrowed brow then she snaps her attention way, shaking her head, the lingering silence was more than enough. "Wow, I thought there was some humanity in you. Witt almost had me convinced!" she scoffs, crossing her arms over her chest and turning to face the door. She can't believe this shit, world's worst boyfriend award goes to the emotionless brick of a robot. Pathfinder had more emotion than he did at this point and all Pathy ever felt was optimism by the sounds of things. "Good riddance. Hopefully he forgets every bit of you 'cause this would break his heart, asshole."
It's like a knife to a stomach, twisting then sliding up and letting guts spill to the floor, choking on your own blood while panicking to rescue your entrails and put them back but it's useless. It hurts.
Revenant stands completely still and blank, eyes glued to the dark skinned lady who went to enter the room he had just left. What could he say to make things right? Could he say anything. Mirage was breaking Revenant's heart, every confused look with broken puppy eyes was the worst pain he'd felt, it topped every death he experienced and encoded, it must only be fair that they're breaking each other's, at least the skinsuit has the luxury of forgetting all of it. This would be ingrained forever in Revenant, haunting him for entirety. Was that selfish to think?
His mind is empty yet overflowing at the same time, the seconds of silence feels like hours as he watches Bangalore and tries to fight for a justifying sentence.
"Have fun wherever you're going, I hope you think of us while you're murdering some other jackass — Actually do us a favour and don't think of us at all," Anita quips then presses on the door handle, allowing it to open with a click. She shoots him one final glare then steps into the room, shutting it behind herself, she didn't care for whatever Revenant had to tell her, she wasn't taking any goodbyes or apologies. Hopefully he'd disappear and maybe find his source code himself and do everyone a favour and end himself. If only they could be so lucky.
The sim shakily exhales, eyes staring at where she once stood, his nails digging into the palms of his hand until something within hin clicks and snaps. A pained scream as he throws his fist into the wall of the corridor, releasing his anger on the bricks. He breathes heavily, it's simulated but rough, his hand stuck through the wall twitching with the pain. It's mental pain. Heartbreak, misery. All he thinks to do is walk away.
Leave and forget, maybe, stop attending the games and finish his routine of killing. Murder for money that he didn't even need in the slightest, replace every human feeling with sadism and get his revenge on the earth. He couldn't curl up and die, coding physically stopped him from shooting his own source, his last hope was Miss Andrade but he lost hope in her. He'd lost hope in everything. There was nothing good to come from this or whatever came next, from here on out Revenant was alone again. The one thing he learned to love, the one man who single handedly taught him joy and how to feel human and it was gone — It was going. He could apologise and return to that bedside, try to bare through the suffering. Instead he left, exiting the building out into the cold of the night, wind hitting metal plating as he walks off. This was all he had left. It was nothing but agony from here on out.
Death was a gift that Revenant wouldn't have.