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Reaver Four-One-Nine

An assassin, designed for a single purpose.

0 · 1,679 views · located in Zanzaria City Hall

a character in “The Multiverse”, as played by NotAFlyingToy

Description

Disturbed wrote:I'll let the darkness
Cover me
Deny everything
Slowly walk away
To breathe again

On my own

History

Image Reaver's story begins with a man named Donald Johnson. Johnson was a fighter pilot with the Terran military, a high-born officer through-and through. While invading a hostile planet filled with smugglers and scum, however, he was shot down and imprisoned, taken captive by a kingpin named Juan. Juan gave him as a present to his mistress, Jessica Knowland, who beat him and tortured him, warped his mind into believing that he'd never be free. Through these ministrations, she became addicted to both the power she lorded over him and his own hatred for her. Once, while in the middle of their play, she accidentally killed him, electrocuting him as a punishment during the heat of passion. She paid several slavers to create the Donbot; a robot that was designed for her pleasure, yet installed with Donald Johnson's brain functions and abilities, so she could continue experiencing his hatred and torture him anew. Over time, Johnson went insane while trapped inside his robotic body, and so became the machine, giving himself a code name that a pilot would give himself, and dreamed of the day when he could escape. Over time, he realized his own potential.

The slavers had installed him in a highly skilled assassin bot, known as Reaver. Once Donald got access to this side of the robot, his mind was filled with information regarding kills, and the record of murders that the bot had performed. Still descending into madness, Donald had a hard time differentiating between his own kills and the machines, and as a result the two figures blended, giving Donald the misconception that he murdered nearly three thousand individuals in a variety of ways. Still, his instincts were sharper, more defined, and he was able to escape Jessica Knowland, and murder Juan, retreating back to earth, only to discover that his family had been murdered, too.

Now, he thirsts for two things. The first is to cleanse the corruption in Earth.

The second is to kill his old mistress.

So begins...

Reaver Four-One-Nine's Story

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"Nothing else to do but hunt young hot studs in a bar, huh?" Reaver twirled the glass he had just been given, around and around with a dark blue, shiny finger. He stopped the twirling with his other hand, spinning it again until it inched towards the edge, slowing and stopping just before it went tumbling into a thousand pieces. He nodded towards her watch.

"Aaah. UNSC. So you're familiar with electronics." One of his eyes flashed on and then off, in a mockery of a wink.

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Reaver let out a guffaw, leaning backwards in the chair. "Seems like you don't know 'bout much. So what are you army types doing nowadays, anyhow? Still putting your boots to some alien life form ready to infest and invade the world?"

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Reaver let out a chuckle. "Lady, if you find me attractive, then you're far more fucked up than any of you UNSC types I've ever met. Met someone like you once, in fact. Claimed to be some hotshot helljumper."

He lifted a robotic shoulder, the plating on it squeaking. "I wasn't coming on to you. More like... egging you on. Your slim pickings didn't seem too interested, earlier."

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Reaver shook his head, grinning. "Well, even if I could help you there..." he murmured, pointing downwards towards his groin - which, of course, was nothing but more plating.

"Spartan, huh?" He mused, tapping his finger against his chin. "Like that movie, with all the bodybuilders and the homoerotic undercurrent?"

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Times like these, Reaver really, really wished that he had an eyebrow to raise. Hell, he wished that he had a mouth so he could suppress a guffaw.

"Well, you certainly have a high opinion of yourself. But I'm going to plead the fifth on the Sexy thing. You know what's sexy? Roombas."

He sighed dreamily. "Roombas are awesome."

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The suppression turned into a full on cackle, but his metallic fingers moved to clasp around the woman's waist, regardless. "Woman, you really don't hear much, do you? What exactly are you expecting us to do? Play charades?"

He shook his head. "I'm flattered - I really am - but if you suddenly die in a wildfire and get downloaded into a central core processing unit of a glowy blue naked chick, then you can look me up."

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Reaver shifted slightly, his fingers on his other hand tapping on his thigh rhythmically. "She sounds hot. What's her I.P adress?"

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Reaver shrugged. "It's no Roomba. I mean, what are you expecting? I'm pretty much a bunch of 1's and 0's strung together in a way that makes me a snarky asshole. Though, according to the Reddit pictures I just posted, you're an eight point seven and the comment made the front page."

He leaned his head back, glancing her over. "Cortana, eh? Think you could hook us up? I like a woman in uniform."

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Reaver blinked.

"Well, that was stupendously easy. What if I wanted to invade her and corrupt her- Well, actually, I'll probably corrupt her anyways, just not on a data level, if you know what I mean."

He chuckled to himself, before stopping. "I'm insinuating that I'm going to have sex with her." He explained, as if he were explaining the joke to a small, puny child.

"I'm sure a human will be along to take care of your... needs. Oh, I didn't even get your name."

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Reaver shook his head at her. "Lady, you sure are something."

He stood from the table, laid down his money, and scanned through the access codes devilishly. "Okay. I need to head out, charge up these batteries. Stay thermostat'd, or whatever the hell you army types say nowadays."

With a finger wave, the robot set for the exit.

The setting changes from Gambit's Bar to Main Street

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Atop the rooftops, spurred by two invisible father figures, Reaver crouched, watching the scene below him unfold.

"Oh, quit your whining, wings," he said to the open air. "I know that you're super sad that your pet isn't able to ride you anymore, just... fuck off, okay?"

He cocked his head, and let out a belly laugh. "Hey now. I thought angels weren't allowed to swear - what? No. No, you can't - don't you dare touch my wires- RAPE! RAAAPE! RA-"

Suddenly, his eyes shifted colours from gold to blue to bronze and back to blue, making him shiver.

"What did you do?"

I think I'm going to borrow you for a while.

"Son of a bitch."

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"I am not going down there. There are those... crazy... pulse rifle people down there. They killed me last time, you know."

You're going down there. Or else.

"Or else what? You're going to be invisible at me? Oooooh! I am the great and powerful Angel that shares the same name as a hillbilly tow-"

Reaver slapped himself in the face, shocking him into silence.

"You're lucky I can't feel pain, or else that would've-"

Another slap.

"Fuck you, wings."

A third slap.

"FINE! Fine. I'll go."

Leaping down behind Gabriella, Reaver tapped her on the shoulder.

"Hi." he said, cocking his head at her. "Uh, we didn't... introduce ourselves earlier. I'm Reaver, a hyper competent assassin robot that knows every joint on your body to inflict pain. I want to be friends with you. Or something." He looked to the side, his tone low.

"This is a great plan, Wings."

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"WHAT!?" Reaver bellowed. "I CAN'T HEAR YOU OVER THE RINGING - I'm just playing. I don't have ears."

He glanced towards where Farai was settled, and then he gripped Gabriella around the waist. "Oh calm down," he snapped. "I don't have a libido; I'm a damn killing machine. Besides, it's not like I'm pawing at her clothes."

Hoisting her over his shoulder, he crouched, and then sprung as high as he could, barely topping the roof, using the distraction to get him - and Wings' charge - away from the scene as fast as possible.

"Yyyeeaah. This is a great plan, wings. Real-"

His free hand slammed into his chin. "Alright, you son of a bitch. Who's carrying the cargo? Yeah, that's what I thought. Best keep my hands to myself."

The setting changes from Main Street to Main Street (Continued)

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Reaver didn't say much - but the voice in his head was making these kind of choked sounds, as if he was trying to say something and was upset about it. "Shut up," he snapped, turning to look over his shoulder with an outstretched finger. "She's going to think I'm insane if you keep making me respond to you."

His head turned over towards Paul, and he waved his hands about, mocking the air, before focusing on Gabby, his hands freezing and quickly dropping to his sides.

"Well, you looked like you needed some kind of help. You fleshy people leak when you're injured and stuff, so... Figured I'd stitch you up a bit." He shrugged.

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Reaver shrugged. "Well, I did give it. You were too busy doing that weird "ERMAGHERD, EARS BLEEDIN'" thing that humans seem to do whenever a loud noise is around."

He lifted a hand. "My name's Reaver. Reaver four-hundred and nineteen. Killer robot, general asshat, and fearless poker player, at your service."

Tell her.

Reaver sighed slightly, glancing to the side, annoyed.

Tell her, you bucket of bolts!

"And... well, okay. Don't freak out, but I kinda-sorta-maaaaybe-amcartingaroundyourdeadboyfriend. Who sucks at insults."

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Reaver huffed. "See... this is the reason that processors are better than brains."

He rubbed his temples momentarily, before holding out a fist, clenched. "Okay. Stop me at any point, because ghosts are often very, very cryptic."

He raised a finger. "You meet a fallen angel dude, you two fall in love, yes?"

A second. "You die. Fallen angel dude resurrects you, you get to live with him again."

A third. "Fallen angel dude leaves one night, never comes back."

A fourth. "You revert to old, destructive habits, get a train track of needles on your arm, slapped around a little."

Finally, he raised his fifth finger. "You learn that Fallen angel dude didn't abandon you. He's... well, he died. Sort of. It's a complex thing, but I can see him. He's standing right behind you."

He waved vaguely towards a space behind Gabriella.

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Reaver, for some reason, felt a pang of emotion for this girl. He was suddenly taken back slightly, back to a time when he had a name, and a face. Where he had lost someone and gained something, only to have both crushed into a fine powder under the high-heeled shoe of a woman. And those things, the emotions that were on her face, began to slowly creep into his heart, a pang of empathy running through him.

Of course, the ghost would take advantage, swooping into him. Reaver didn't even fight it.

The robot jerked slightly, staring at her, and from within it...

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His arms automatically wrapped around her, a soft "shhh" floating from a speaker at the base of the robot's throat. He rubbed his hands up and down her spine, fingers trailing lightly, arms squeezing desperately.

It was a long moment before the lighter-toned, higher pitched voice spoke. "A kiss will cost ya though, darlin'."

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Reaver shrugged. "As you said, can't do much with broken bones. So... Hospital sounds good."

He snapped his fingers, pointing at her. "Oh, wait. Wait. We can't go to the hospital. The cop might be looking for you. Better safe than sorry."

He tapped his fingers against his chin erratically, pondering his next move. "Okay. I know a guy. He primarily works with Robots, but we can take you there and get you all fixed up and shit. Maybe you could talk to... uh, Dallas, or whatever your boyfriend's name is, if he gets his strength back up. I know the story... but it'd be a lot better if you heard it from him."

He lifted both shoulders. "Sound good?"

The setting changes from Main Street (Continued) to Gambit's Bar

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While the vaguely humanoid shaped, loud-jointed robot that entered certainly didn't mind the smoke - that required lungs and generally fleshy parts of him that could get cancer and things, stuff he generally didn't have - there was no doubt that the robotic assassin-droid would tell the man off for smoking - if only for his own amusement, or the man's disapproval. The matte-black and dark blue of the robot's plating shone in the dim light - atmospheric, they called it - as the pneumatic joints hissed rapidly as he made his way towards the only other form in the bar.

He sat beside the man quickly, whirling a chair around to straddle it, folding his arms across the back as he leered at Max.

"Intent on dying, are we?"