Feels weird being back into this Fandom after not having been after a long time... Uhm... hi.
This draft was sitting in my, well, drafts for like 6 months, and I finally decided that I wanted to upload it.
So... not much else for me to say here except enjoy!
...
The announcer's voice came over the PA system, "You are the Apex Champion," well, about time Ezra Steele got some recognition for all of his hard work. He climbed off his opponent whose face is going to need some help. He may or may not have punched the person to 'death' in World's Edge to become Champion. It was in the off-season and the heads of the bloodsport allowed a bunch of new people to try out to see who would become the next Apex Legend. They wanted to see who had the guts to get down and dirty.
Ezra most certainly got his hands dirty, well, bloody in this case. To be fair, that person tried to be sneaky and they ran out of ammo. Ezra thought it would only be fair to have a fistfight. Sometimes the Legends would do this too, so why couldn't he? As for the guts, he didn't mind, he's seen worse.
Ezra was one of those people that could certainly put on a show when they wanted. The physical damage to their bodies would be fixed and healed when they got back to the compound, but it was quite the trip. It makes you feel like you just had the most extreme acid trip that drugs could offer. His short curly black hair, along with his heterochromia eyes, one blue and one a light shade of violet, make him stand out just a little bit more. His sunglasses, or his nano-computer lenses, are what allow him to track targets during his Ultimate, but they are mostly used for their intended purpose. He wears a bandanna around his mouth because he respects his older sister. Eliza would always wear some sort of bandanna or balaclava everywhere, no matter the occasion. He prefers a balaclava over a bandanna, it just adds to his character.
The would-be Legend, if the organizers would accept him, would take the time to hone his skills after every match, even if he won or lost. His abilities are what define him as a Marksman, some would because of what they do, but hey, when he created his own technology to do this, that's on you. His abilities are quite unique, well not as unique as the brooding Skirmisher, Wraith. She was quite the force to be reckoned with, at least that's what the stories say about her.
His Ultimate is called Homing Beacon. This is an aimbot, but it is only active for ten seconds. Any target in a fifty-meter vicinity is in what Ezra calls 'danger-zone'. The catch was that he can only fire so many bullets of each weapon type. It does somewhat compensate for recoil, and it allows the bullets to 'magnetize' to a target. The ability would scan the weapon he is currently holding and the Ultimate would only apply to that weapon and no others. It would determine the damage of each bullet at each ten-meter interval, with each level of armor provided, helmets included, and then from there it would allow x amount of bullets to be considered 'Aimbot Bullets'. If the gun is a P2020, Ezra would most likely fire fifteen bullets before the Ultimate would end, that is including Hammerpoints. It sounds complicated when he tries to explain it to others, but once seen in action, it becomes self-explanatory. Another part of a fairness protocol, there is no way for him to extend the time either. Ezra developed this technology a few years back while he was still in the Core Planets. Ezra still tests it, having tested it out in the firing range, there doesn't seem to be any overlying problems, as of yet. No one in the Games has seen this yet, while the other competitors have all exposed their ultimates.
His tactical ability is called Fast Hands. This allows the adrenaline flowing in his veins to temporarily be set aside from his body. It acts as a filter to his body. It then stores it in a syringe that he can inject into someone else on his team or himself if he needed to think on a hair-trigger. With this ability active, he can reload and handle his weapons faster and they get a minuscule handling boost, it helps to compensate for recoil at longer ranges. That one bullet is the difference between a knockdown and survival.
His passive is called Gun Runner. This allows Ezra to hold two pistol-like guns, which are limited to P2020, RE-45, the Wingman, and even the Mozambique, the drawback is slightly increased reload time. That last one is more difficult to use dual-wield, so he doesn't use it often. However, using two of the same weapons uses two ammo per shot. He cannot use two different guns, it is either two P2020s, two REs, or two Wingman. These abilities work well together, yet throughout his exhibition matches of Apex, he did not use his tactical or his ultimate. His passive, on the other hand, he used almost exclusively throughout, except for his fists at the end, cause well, that person got on his nerves before the match started so… karma.
While he does carry a switchblade on his person, his melee 'heirloom' are actually brass knuckles. They aren't traditional brass knuckles, however. They do slide on like normal ones, but once they do, they extend and actually cover his knuckles giving them protection so he can punch without having to worry about breaking anything. They also stay out of the way when it comes to gripping them when handling weapons.
His finisher is simple. He knocks their knockdown shield away, then gives their head a tap, then knees them in the chin. The knee he uses has an armor plate to help with that final blow. 'Shattered Mind' he calls it, or maybe 'Jawbreaker'. Ezra thought about changing the name, but that would require thought, so he leaves it be, and if someone comes up with something better, then he'll adopt the name. This was how Ezra got his namesake, Leadflare, or LF. He has other various names, like Flare, but he likes LF the best.
After pulling the body off the ground, he did the nice thing and brought them to the ship to be cared for. The person was 'dead' but in reality, he knocked them out cold. After all, winning three matches out of six is tiring. Ezra's muscles were tired, and he wanted to nap before the results were announced. With his last performance and the two before it, racking up forty-nine total kills, he better get chosen to join the Legends. Ezra came to the Outlands because he wanted to get away from the Core Planets, away from the ones who wronged him. It also meant leaving behind his only family.
The Legends had the option to watch the off-season matches, that way, they can discuss strategy and pick favorites. The thirteen Legends all saw Leadflare's performance and with him along, it would bring more potential advertisers. The organizers would be stupid not to pick him, especially after his remarkable performances.
"Did you see the way he moved?!" Octavio said, bouncing up and down in his chair as he watched all six of LF's games over and over, watching him move around the battlefield with style. The adrenaline junkie, Octavio Silva, loved watching these games, it made him even put his adrenaline syringe down for all of about five seconds before he started twirling the empty syringe.
Makoa Gibraltar, the gentle giant, and Bloodhound, the Frontier's renowned Hunter, watched on in silence until Bloodhound said, "A round fit for the slatra, wouldn't you agree?"
Gibraltar let out a boisterous laugh and replied with, "I agree with you brotha. Kid's got some moves!"
"I agree with you as well, friend," the MRVN unit, callsign Pathfinder said right after from across the room. "He's really good," the screen on Path's chest lit up with a smile.
"Just another insect if you ask me," The Mad Scientist, Alexander Nox, or Caustic, said as he left the common room. Park Tae Joon, alias Crypto, also said nothing as he was working on his Drone, fixing his EMP charger. It was having a misfire error.
Anita Williams, Bangalore, watched the feeds and made comments and critiques about it, "His form is above average. His gun skill is excellent and he can definitely hold his own in high-pressure situations. The organizers would lose their minds if they didn't take him."
Mirage, the Holographic Trickster, or Elliott Witt as he is known among the Legends walked into the room, "So this new guy came in and did an ex-ext-extra... a fabulous display and you're saying that they won't take him?" his words were mostly muffled because he was eating some cookies he baked, Momma Witt's recipe.
"Elliott, chew with ya mouth closed, ya hear?" Ajay Che, Lifeline, scolded him without even looking at him. The medic was spread across an armchair as she rubbed her temples. She may or may not have gotten a little hungover last night, celebrating the off-season. Not many chances for her to actually unwind, but she ends up regretting it the next day, not even D.O.C can help her.
The other two legends in the room, Revenant and Loba Andrade, were watching with veiled interest. The two of them came to a... mutual understanding after the artifact hunt. While most don't particularly care for what happens to them, they obviously had time to sort things out. "That one seems like he could steal someone's heart," the translocating thief purred aloud, not caring who heard her.
"Just another skinsuit to me," Revenant grunted and left the room to go brood or whatever a simulacrum does in their spare time. No one said goodbye to him, but the slight tension in everyone's shoulders, sans Pathfinder's, eased.
A voice came from the next room, "Mes amis, have they decided who was going to be the fourteenth Legend?" The voice revealed a tall blonde with scarring on the left side of her face and a prosthetic metal arm in view. Her hair was in all sorts of directions as she pulled her turtleneck shirt down, covering her semi-toned abdomen. Thankfully, she was also wearing pants.
"Nat, you know they won't pick until tomorrow," another voice came from behind the blonde. She was shorter than Nat, or Natalie Paquette, Wattson. Her hair was also in multiple directions, but the smile that graced the raven-haired woman showed her happiness. The woman snaked an arm around Natalie's waist. Renee Blasey, Wraith, explained to her girlfriend and lover that they always pick a new Legend before the start of the in-season games.
Natalie and Renee have been an item since Nat's appearance. It was an awkward six to eight months before they admitted their mutual love for each other. The other Legends got a kick out of their shyness and at first wanted them to keep their PDA away from them, but now they don't care because anyone with eyes can see how happy they are together. Revenant being Revenant was the party pooper, but again, no one really likes him. Except Pathfinder for some odd reason. As for the polar opposites, the Apex following ships them, yet they deny it, just to watch everyone get upset. Quite hilarious, actually.
"Doudou, you know I get curious. I want to make a good first impression," she whispered to Renee before kissing the woman's temple. The older woman blushed in response.
Elliott had to chime in his two cents, "Like you did to each other? We all remember how awkward you two were." The other Legends present let out small chuckles of confirmation. Their comments overlapped with each other but everyone was a friend to the two of them with an exception or two. They were supportive when they came out to each other, even Loba. A surprise to be sure.
"And look at us now," Renee retorted softly, relishing in the warmth that is Natalie.
"Yeah, you look like you just fu….fuuu…. screwed each others' brains out," Elliott said bluntly as he eyed the two of them.
"I'm wearing a turtleneck for reason, Monsieur," Natalie replied. Elliott took a moment to observe the two ladies; the sly smiles and rosy cheeks, and flushed skin from the two ladies made Elliott regret his previous statement, "Oh my, get a room you two!"
"We did," the ladies said in unison, looking at each other, which prompted them to fall into pits of laughter. Natalie spoke up, "So, how many kills did this 'LF' acquire?"
Renee looked at the results over the course of the six-game off-season; she let out a whistle, "forty-nine kills across three games where he was the victor. Thirty-three when he was not. That's…"
Natalie took over in awe, "Eighty-two kills in just six games. Oh, ma chérie, they better pick him. The next closest comes in at fifty-two kills."
"I have to say, I am with you on that, if they don't pick him, then it will be a mundane season. They need to spice it up, and he will do nicely." Renee mused, her thoughts were on other ideas. Considering the multiple loops they had to jump through with the artifact hunt, a lot of things can be considered 'mundane'. Natalie saw Renee's thinking face and wondered if she was thinking the same thing. Who is he?
After the dropship returned to the compound, the other competitors congratulated Ezra on his performance. He knew they were genuine too because of how they presented themselves. While he was humble most of the time, this did stroke his ego, and he even offered a tip to each one seeing where they went wrong. It may sound smug, but it is anything but, these people have potential and they could make it to the games one day. For most, this was a one and done experience.
Thankfully, Ezra had years of practice. Years of learning how to fight and how to defend himself. Lord knows how many times he's defended his older sister, Eliza, from lethal danger. Ezra shivered lightly at the thought, not wanting to relive those painful memories. When he finished up with the other competitors, he retreated to his room for the time being; waiting for all the candidates to be called forward, and then he got a private message.
He saw who it was from and he immediately wanted to smash his communicator into a billion pieces. He knew what he was getting into and he knew what the repercussions would be and he paid the price for it. What happened to him broke him, and he hasn't been the same since. He didn't know if it was possible for him to even go through the whole process again.
Frustrated, Ezra decided to visit the indoor shooting range/simulation room and loaded two Wingman pistols and grabbed some Arc Stars. He wanted a challenge. He wanted targets to try and shoot back. Maybe it was because he wanted to feel pain.
The buzzer broke Ezra out of his thoughts and he began his assault on the target dummies, while his muscles were still sore, he wanted to feel something. One of the settings made the dummies fire back, to give it a sense of realism. Ezra dodged, jumped, and rolled all while firing his guns. The reloading is the fun part, as he flings out the old magazine and lightly tosses two magazines in the air before making the guns catch them. Once Ezra pulled the trigger, they locked in place and the next round was primed. A flashy display, but it works.
All targets were down and he only fired three shots more after he reloaded. Except he let one of the dummies shoot him to give him that adrenaline he craves. It is what keeps him going. His breathing was slightly audible, and his muscles started to fatigue. Well, that's what happens when you squeeze into the Games at the last minute, Ezra. A slow clap brought him out of his adrenaline high. He turned and aimed his Wingmen at the source of the noise, a silhouette. Since his ammo was considered 'live', he immediately lowered the weapons and calmly walked over to the gun bench and set them down, along with all the excess ammo and grenades he picked up. "Can I help you?" his tone neutral, with a hint of curiosity of why someone decided to make their presence known. Everyone else was in their room, but Ezra stood out, and he didn't care. Normally, no one ever comes down here, at least they never came down while he was in here.
"Yes, you can actually," the voice said plainly. Feminine, that narrows it down to five. It isn't Lifeline, no accent. It isn't Bangalore, the voice doesn't carry that sense of formality. It isn't Wattson, she would have a French accent. Loba is out of the question, she would steal something to see if I noticed. It can't be… "I wanted to talk to you about-"
"Do me a favor and don't beat around the bush with me, that won't work. Tell me what you want and we can be on our way," Ezra said gruffly as he watched the room disappear and it transformed into a blank room with grid-like patterns on the walls. Ezra enjoyed the room because he could be left alone and out of everyone's sight. So much for privacy though.
"Well, when you put it like that… I hope the organizers pick you, they would be idiots if they didn't," the voice said with conviction. Ezra took a moment to actually look at the person and when he did, his eyes widened under the sunglasses and took multiple steps back, drawing his personal switchblade. Shit, why her? Of course, the one Legend who comes to visit happens to be one who makes men cry at her name. She is ruthless in the arena, one who can strike true fear into the hearts of many. Those blue eyes hold a great deal of malicious intent.
His facial coverings hid his true expression, but his body did not, obviously. The Legend couldn't see how his jaw was clenched, and they couldn't see his oddly colored eyes narrowed into slits. His body language did that for him. "Relax, I don't kill outside the arena," a flash of light made Ezra blink, "but I make exceptions when I'm threatened." The eyes of the Legend turned milky white. The blade radiated an otherworldly vibe, one that looks like it can scar if it even touches your skin. It was held in the Legend's hands, doing multiple spins and twirls on their fingers. Trying to show off?
Ezra made his switchblade sheath, but he never let go of it. "So then why are you here?" Curiosity will be the reason Ezra dies someday, but what can he say, he likes the danger that comes with it. It provides him with an adrenaline rush.
"To get my welcome in before everyone else does. So welcome to the Apex Games. You already know who I am, don't you?" the Legend said, their lips curved into a smirk, finally revealing themselves.
"I do. Your name has been mere whispers among the FNG grapevine. Your kill efficiency has been unmatched. You have nicknames. However, I fail to see how any of them apply," Ezra said to gain a reaction from the Legend.
The twirling stopped, and the blade was poised in defense, "Oh? Are you asking for a demonstration?" There was something else to that statement that allowed more adrenaline to rush throughout his body or was he imagining it?
Ezra raised his hands in surrender, a smug smile and a rapid heartbeat under the mask, ahh the rush, "That's what they were saying, not me. I can see where you get the name," Ezra defended himself. "I will mention that your actual name has been flung around since it was found out, so get rid of the look and stance. Anyway, you're the one who the community calls the 'Interdimensional Skirmisher' are you not?" Ezra said cautiously, making sure he can get names to faces.
The Legend nodded, "Correct, and you're Ezra Steele, otherwise known as Leadflare, but you prefer 'LF', don't you?" Ezra nodded, and his eyes narrowed even more. How much does she know?
The Legend known as Wraith stepped forward, a smug smile now on her face, one that held future promises. In a flash, her Kunai was to his throat, but Ezra didn't react. If anything, he raised an eyebrow. He stood there, and then laughed, "Did you really think I would be that stupid?" he asked as the voices in Wraith's head warned her of danger, her eyebrows furrowed in slight confusion before looking down.
"Impressive," a satisfied smirk came to her features as she removed her Kunai from his throat and he his switchblade from above her heart. "To answer you, no, I don't think you are," Wraith said turning around and leaving Ezra to his own devices.
"This day turned out to be more interesting than I thought it would be," he mused aloud, not particularly caring if Wraith heard him. He rolled his shoulders before sighing and made to leave the room.
...
So, OC insert. Does this surprise you? Oh, and yes, established DarkSparks. I will go down with this ship and you cannot change my mind.
Welcome to Newly Recruited!
From the Author,
Soul of Horus
