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‘Fancy a swim?’ had been on her wrist for as long as she could remember. The phrase had always been odd to her; before, she hadn't known the meaning of ‘fancy’ in this context, so she had spent several years of her early childhood thinking that she would meet her soulmate while swimming in a ball gown.
It sounded messy and heavy and inconvenient, but whenever she had mouthed those words to herself that was what had come to mind. Eventually her Papa had corrected her and told her its true meaning, but honestly, Natalie Paquette would have much preferred it the way she'd imagined.
At least swimming in ball gowns had a certain silly charm to it—as opposed to being punted into the Geyser and being blown back forty feet into the Ring that she had designed.
Her squad was in the top three. Mirage was sending out decoy after decoy as Pathfinder grappled around, Bloodhound’s squad firing at him and wasting their precious ammo. Natalie had set up one of her pylons in the building alongside her, fences protecting them from outsiders, but she knew that she would have to rotate soon; the Ring would be closing in on her very position, forcing her to scuttle out of the building and past the Geyser.
“Mirage,” Natalie said, and he turned to look at her from where he was positioned in the doorway. “Please ask Pathfinder to set us up a zipline. I am going to try and—”
“I have been downed!” Came Pathfinder’s cheerful voice at that exact moment. “Oh no! We are being attacked by another squad! Goodbye, friends!”
And just like that, his banner popped up on their minimaps, urging them to pick it up.
“That stupid tin can,” Mirage sighed, and Natalie frowned at his rude words, but said nothing. “Okay, when the Ring starts movin’, I’ll send out a few ban—bomb—decoys and scatter ‘em so we can run, okay? Hopefully everyone starts shooting at them instead.”
It did not sound like a very good plan, but it was better than nothing. They honestly should have rotated a long time ago, but a certain competitor had set up a turret on the opposite side of the little valley, and made moving outside very risky. She swore that she could hear the other girl’s laughter and the sounds of her bullets hitting the floor all the way from here. Why did she have to be so loud?
Natalie tried her best to be polite to all of the competitors in the Apex Games, especially ones chosen by Mr. Blisk himself, but Ramya Parekh made it nearly impossible for Natalie to like her. She was loud, crass, and quite frankly, rude. She reminded her a bit of Octane, but at least Octane’s quips were much friendlier—’c’mon, amigo, we should go do that again!’
All Rampart knew how to do was talk big and be mean.
And why did everyone think that she was so funny? Was there a joke that she was missing out on? ‘If I ever let ya down, it’s probably because I grew tired of carrying you’ —she had said this to Mirage yesterday, and everyone had laughed! Mirage was a senior competitor of the Apex Games, and Rampart was not. Why did she think that she would have to carry him? What was wrong with teamwork?
The newest Legend hadn’t even spoken one word directly to her, but Natalie already couldn’t help but think that they wouldn’t get along. She hated to admit it, but not even she could be friends with everyone.
“Round seven,” the announcer said, and Natalie’s eyes narrowed. “Beginning Ring countdown.”
Picking her pylon back up, she tucked her Hemlok close to herself and nodded at Mirage, who burst through the door of the building, cloaking himself and sending out decoys in every direction. It was a fascinating piece of technology that she would like to know more about, but they’d never quite had the time to discuss it.
Taking cover beside a decoy, she kept low as bullets exploded in front of her, someone firing at the cloaked Mirage—though invisible, his feet were clearly kicking up water. Natalie considered using the Geyser to send herself to their new location, but Bloodhound was sniping this match, and there was no doubt in her mind that while she flew up in a predictable arc, they would shoot at her.
Natalie figured that she could run around the Geyser and duck low next to the buildings opposite of them so that she could stay hidden. She zig-zagged around it, taking careful note of who all was shooting at them—Bloodhound's squad, all three of them positioned on high ground...Bangalore taking potshots at Mirage while the whoosh of Octane's jump-pads filled the air...
Someone was unaccounted for, and she only realized who when she rounded the Geyser and was met with the bright brown eyes of the last person she wanted to see right now.
“‘Ello, luv,” Rampart greeted, messy brown ponytail swaying in the wind. She was holding her huge minigun in hand—‘Sheila’, if Natalie was remembering correctly. “Fancy a swim?”
Natalie fumbled with her Hemlok, hands shaky for a multitude of reasons, but she was too slow in her response; Rampart reared back, a devilish smile on her face, before swinging her minigun forward with all her might and slamming it right into Natalie.
She felt several of her ribs crack as she was shoved into the Geyser, gasping as she flipped around unceremoniously in its blast. She accidentally inhaled a mouthful of water, choking, before she was being rocketed somewhere, unable to see which direction she was going due to the pain in her chest and the dizziness of her head.
Eyes squeezed shut, Natalie felt as though her entire body were burning, stinging in pain as she landed hard on her shoulder. Realizing with terror that she had flown into the Ring, she peeled her eyes open, staring in dismay at the safe zone forty feet ahead of her.
But her dismay at landing in her own creation was nothing compared to the shock and near-horror that had taken hold of her as she had heard those words.
Fancy a swim? Rampart had laughed, poking her tongue through the gap in her teeth, and she was quite sure that she had never felt such dismay before.
“Oh no,” Natalie mumbled in French, knowing she was one tick of damage away from dying. “Not her.”
Dying in the Ring was humiliating to most, but it was ten times as embarrassing to Natalie, seeing as she was the one who had designed it.
After she had been treated by the doctors in the medbay, she wandered around the ship, wanting to be alone so that no one could see her shame. She found solace in one of the empty sitting rooms, and turned the TV on mute so that she could see how the Game ended.
Bloodhound's squad, consisting of Revenant and Gibraltar, was taken out when Bangalore's bombardment fell right in their path of rotation, and they'd been forced to either die in the Ring or run through it. They did not survive, and she watched Bangalore smirk, self-satisfied at the three new kills under her belt.
Mirage was fumbling with Pathfinder’s banner on-screen, making a desperate attempt to resurrect him, and Natalie rooted for him silently. He had won solo before, and she knew that he was perfectly capable of winning by himself!
Her heart sank, though, as she watched Rampart approach, a jovial skip in her step that should be impossible due to the huge weight on her back. She set up her turret as Mirage cloaked himself, not noticing the enemy nearby, and Rampart winked directly at the camera before hopping onto Sheila and spraying the area around the respawn beacon.
We have our Apex Champions.
Shoulders slumping, Natalie sighed as she watched Rampart and Octane high-five, something akin to annoyance brewing inside of her, but she tried to calm herself down.
There was no reason to be angry, she thought. She had lost plenty of times before, and today was no different!
But it was.
The words on her wrist were tingling. It was very different.
Rampart's squad soon rose into the dropship, and Natalie waved at Octane in greeting. He waved back at her enthusiastically before making a beeline for Crypto’s room, which made her frown a little. She frowned even more when Rampart then approached her, blowing a large pink bubble before popping it.
Smack! Goodness, that noise aggravated her.
"No tough feelings, right, Watty?” Rampart asked, and though Octane and Mirage called her that nickname, hearing it from her made her bristle. “It was all a good show. Fun meetin’ ya this way! You’ll have to show me your tech sometime, got it?”
When Natalie didn’t respond, too taken-aback by the audacity of her, Rampart added,
“Electric bullets sound fun, don't they? No, not energy ammo—regular ammo, with electricity. Betcha could give me a few pointers over some drinks, eh?”
For some reason her face was flushing, and she realized that the reason why was annoyance.
“I,” Natalie said shortly, fists clenched by her sides as she tried to keep her composure. “Would rather not. Have a good day, Miss Parekh.”
Turning her back on the girl and trying her best to not stomp away, she made her way back in the direction of her room, but stiffened in the hallway when Rampart called after her,
“Now, wait just a second! I think you’re my soulmate!”
“Ooooh,” Mirage said, having just emerged from the medbay with wide, eager eyes. “Do I hear gossip?”
“Now, let’s see, here,” Rampart said, and Natalie turned around slowly to see her peeling her glove off. “Have and a and good and day—all in caps, mind you—and miss and Parekh. This checks out.”
“Has nobody ever told you to have a good day before?” Mirage asked, bewildered.
“Not in that exact order. Miss...Paquette, was it?” Rampart chuckled to herself, smacking her gum once more, and ugh, that noise!! “Let me see your wrist!”
Natalie didn’t grace her with a response, instead choosing to run up the stairs without looking back, seeking out a more quiet place. A place far, far away from Ramya Parekh and her smacking gum and deafening minigun and crude laugh and...
Shutting herself inside a lone closet, Natalie sat on the floor and drew her knees up to her chest. She had always looked forward to meeting her soulmate; after all, her parents had been soulmates, and there was already a soulmate pair among the Legends in the form of Bangalore and Loba. It left her hopeful that maybe she too could one day meet her soulmate in the Games, but now, she wished she hadn't—or, at least, that it had been someone different.
Perhaps she should at least try to talk to her—Loba and Bangalore hadn't gotten along when they'd first met, after all! Maybe she just needed to give Rampart a chance and see what they had in common...but the last time this had happened, someone she considered a friend had betrayed her. She squeezed her eyes tight as she pictured Crypto's face, trying to fight the image back, but she couldn't.
She didn't want to allow herself to be so open to someone again after that had happened. She knew that their situations were different; even before that moment, Crypto had been 'suspicious', always keeping to himself and never talking to anybody, whereas Rampart was the opposite. But still, she hesitated to entertain the idea. She didn't want to be hurt again.
Rubbing her hands together, she tried to clear her mind and just enjoy the quiet of the closet she had taken refuge in it. She had the feeling that she would be needing a lot more quiet from now on.