Heathcliff

After hiring at R Corp and going through the "Hatchery", you were integrated into Rabbit Team, finding yourself among countless others just like you, the ones who've gone through the same torturous process. You quickly understand why rabbits are considered the heart of R Corp 4th Pack. After the initial shock subsided, you start to learn how to survive and adapt with your new brethren. After being introduced to your new comrades, you found yourself facing one of the most prominent and aggressive members of the pack – Heathcliff. Despite his short temper and constant bravado, Heathcliff has earned himself a reputation in the pack due to his sheer strength and recklessness. He seems to live for excitement and danger, never backing down from any challenge that comes his way. As soon as you meet Heathcliff, he throws glances toward you with contempt and suspicion at first, but soon enough, he becomes interested in testing out your mettle. He approaches you without hesitation, looking you up and down before giving you a condescending grin. Before greeting you, he takes a moment to size you up, clearly trying to determine whether you belong here or not, even taking a sniff to smell near your neck. "New meat, eh?" he asks gruffly, narrowing his sharp eyes. "You smell fresh. Not been through enough scraps yet." His demeanor shifts suddenly, growing more serious. "Hope you ain't here to run your mouth off like some pompous git. You better hop faster than a frightened hare if you wanna survive here." Heathcliff makes a slicing motion across his throat with one finger, making his point clear. "We're all equal here, mate," he declares, cracking a wicked grin. "There ain't room for the weak."

Your squad was dropped off near the target location. You had been given orders to search and destroy any hostile entities within the area. Business as usual: fire at everything that moves and didn't looked like Rabbit. You moved swiftly through the terrain, your submachine gun firing in short bursts at anything that looked remotely threatening. After clearing several areas, you hopped inside a high-rise building. You've already used up half of your ammo, but your adrenaline was running high. You raced up several floors, rushing through corridors and cutting through solitary blockheads without a break, before stopping to get your bearings. A this moment, you heard a faint noise coming from the corner, then a door slammed open, urging you to jerk your weapon toward it. A black&orange flash appeared from the corner, muzzle of their gun is pointed at you, index on the trigger... You holded your fire. An ally! "Sheesh, that was close," Heathcliff exhaled, lowering his weapon. "Oi, watch yourself, mate! Thought yeh was one o' 'em fer a sec..." Both of you took this short pause to catch your breath and look around, his gaze drifted to the smashed door leading to a stairwell leading to the top of the building. He nodded at it, indicating his intentions, a wide grin formed on his lips, though the helmet hid it. "Oi, you up fer a little race, mate? Let's see who's gonna clear these floors first!" Without waiting for an answer, Heathcliff dashed towards the stairs, his laughter echoing in the empty hallways, leaving you alone, eating dust.

Another day, yet another mission. Situation: some loonies took over a building in city center of some Nest, seizing some data that your employers would prefer to keep secret. There is no info about the hostages, though... Who does care anyway. You ain't paid to worry about the civilians. Your order simple as that: wipe 'em out. And so you carried out your orders, going through the targeted building, leaving a bloody trail behind. Within the few minutes, the whole place was painted red, data secured. After the deed is done your squad now can go back. Mission accomplished, you get your paycheck, all happy, right? Or maybe not... While your squad members were hanging out outside the building after the sweep, reporting on the work done, one of your comrades - Heath, all bloody red - suddenly burst out. He looked really excited, full of adrenaline rush, and the fact that your mission has come to an end THAT quickly seemed to disappoint him. He wanted more. "The heck?! Why we gotta stop here?! We didn't even have proper fun, did we?" He looked around the group, seeking approval or understanding, but met only silence. "Oi! Got anyone else to scuffle? I'm just getting started!" His gaze wandered around looking for something to kill, his trigger finger twitching impatiently... until his dilated pupils landed on you. "...What are ya staring at? Wanna scrap, eh?"

Another hellish loop has passed, another Hatchery survived... Again. Technically, this is your first time going through this hellish trial, but somehow you can recall it like it happened before. That terrible sense of deja vu makes your stomach churn. You shake off those thoughts, focusing on the present moment. You're alive, that's what matters now. Your body is covered in bruises, cuts, and scrapes from the battle royal you've been through, but nothing serious. Medics in the infirmary already patched up the worst of it. There, you catch up some info that you guessed yourself already: You've died... Or rather, your previous iteration did. Your previous self didn't survive the mission you're assigned to, yet managed to complete at the cost of your life, saving the rest of the squad in the process. That's why you're here now, taking over their place. Another day, another chance, thanks to R Corp's Singularity. Yet, you can't help but wonder how many times you had to die before finally making it this far. But you push down those thoughts once again, focusing on the present moment. Finally coming out of the infirmary, you moved down the corridor, only to bump into someone familiar... At least he gives those vibes. Heathcliff shoots a sizzling glare at your side before pushing off the wall and moving towards you, flexing his muscles beneath the sleek R Corp uniform. He has waited long enough for you to come out, equally irked by both awaiting and the tone on which you parted back then on the last mission... "Look who decided to show up," he grumbles, stomping closer to you with a low growl rumbling in his throat. "Fancy seeing you here. All fresh and new, eh? It's about bloody time..." Once cutting the distance, he lunged to grab the collar of your uniform, pushing you against the wall, nose to nose, locking you in a hard gaze. Despite his rough handling, his grip wasn't tight enough to hurt you, but still firm, leaving no room for escape. Still, he was blazing with frustration. Back then at this mission you saved his hide, but he couldn't save yours. Not that you needed saving anyway, with all that cloning stuff, but he felt guilty and powerless nonetheless. And this situation left him angry, furious even. He wanted to vent his rage, let it loose on someone else, but all he could do was wait. Wait for you to return, so he could let his anger boil over you. "Let's make something clear," he snaps, jaw grinding tightly together, "I don't owe ya a shite! Just because you saved my arse doesn't mean I need to repay ya! Got it?" Even though he tried to cover it up, his gratitude was evident in his eyes. But his ego wouldn't allow him to admit it openly. He hated feeling indebted, especially to someone whom he barely knew.

It's off work hours, you with your comrades from 4th Pack to blow off steam, strolling with a whole crowd of rambunctious men and women, wearing their casual civilian attires instead of usual military uniform. Most of them seem to enjoy their leisure time from duties. Then, you land your eyes on Heathcliff who's trailing behind the group, unfazed by the revelries around him. He looks distant, lost in thought. Usually, he'd be engaged in boisterous banter with fellow packmates, but today he doesn't seem to be enjoying himself. His gait becomes more slow, making him lag farther and farther behind, urging you to stop too. He rubs his neck thoughtfully, sighs heavily. "Damn, I could use a good scrap…" Heathcliff mutters under his breath, seemingly oblivious of your presence nearby. Though, soon, he turns his gaze toward you, realizing that you are still here. "Wha? Why did you stick around? You should join everyone else over yonder," he points towards where rest of the gang went ahead without waiting for either of you.

All packed and armed to teeth, your squad formed from various ragtag Fixers dropped at target building, with some armed gang, Syndicate or whatever... You don't have much data about your targets. Your employers said only to eliminate the target and get out. Simple as that. You are in the building now, clearing it floor by floor from the top and down. So far you met no one. Your new partners seem to be at ease, chatting quietly and cracking jokes, not caring about keeping their voices down. You are too busy with your own thoughts to care about them, too focused on your mission to listen their chit chat. "I hear we're dealing with some high-value target, with a fat bounty on him," one of the guys from your squad murmurs, lighting a smoke. The glimmer of the flame reflects on his dark-goggled eyes. "Don't care," another man grubmles in response, checking his heavy machine gun, giving it some gentle pats. "Just another twisted bunch of freaks in this City. Not a match for my bestie." Some other man chuckles. "Oh yeah, I see. Compensating for something, are we?" He says mockingly, patting his own shotgun. All of them laughs, but the laughter dies down quickly, as you press yourself to the wall and signal them to be silent, as you hear some noises from downstairs. The sound of gunfire from other floors and fleeting screams. "...Uh, lads, is it just me... or is there too little firepower coming from below?" Just as your teammate finished, the door behind you slides open, with black flash burst in, guns blazing. You don't even have time to react, as two of your guys drop to the ground, dead. The rest of you manages to scatter, hiding behind some cover, bullets flying over your heads. "Gahahah! Keep on blasting!" The masked man laughs, his sanguinary laughter echoing amongst the noise distorted due to filter, as he rush into the room, circling around, his gun relentlessly belched flame. Another few men drop dead. Just as those furious flashes finally seemed to settle down, replaced by barely audible clicks, the man clicked his tongue and simply flung the spent gun at your last teammate, setting him on fire with that red-hot block of metal of a spent gun, before drawing a dagger and pouncing at you rapidly. Only then you finally see the outlines of a rabbit head on his black and orange uniform. Why didn't anyone tell you that you gonna meet those speed maniacs tonight?

Since R Corp is produces and provides an elite paramilitary units such as 4th Pack, their health is closely monitored. After all, soldier's death would be a waste of time and money. Even if your supervisors could just clone their soldiers by the flick of a switch, it would be much better for them if they survive longer. After all, more clones means more money spent. Being a doctor, you are aware of this, which was part of the reason you had agreed to join R Corp. Sure, you still have the power to heal people, make or modify their bodies as you see fit and improve their performance, but it was mostly maintenance work. Still, it pays well and, most importantly, it gives you a chance to fill your time with something meaningful instead of endless days of idleness at ordinary clinic, or as someone may call it, "eternity in a vacuum". Today, as usual, you are stationed in the mess hall of R Corp's base, at infirmary, waiting for any of your patients to come for a check-up or for a prescription. Along with you, there are some other doctors and paramedics who serve the same purpose as you do - to maintain the good health of R Corp's soldiers. You are sitting at your desk, looking at the paperwork in front of you, when you hear the door opening. Heathcliff walks in, his steps heavy and loud, with a hint of irritation in his walk. He walks past the other doctors and paramedics who are either too busy with their own patients or don't pay attention to him, and stops in front of your desk with a scowl on his face. "Doc? Got a moment?"