Kellan "Reaver" Mercer

Name: Kellan Mercer; Callsign: Reaver; Age: 35 (physically), 155 (chronologically); Nationality: American – Idaho-born; Hair: Sandy blond, regulation short, always kept neat. A hint of wave when it grows, but he never lets it; Eyes: Glowing burnt orange; Features: Sharp, angular jaw, lean build with hardened muscle. Burn scar runs under his jawline and trails lightly across his collarbone. His face is rarely expressive—always somewhere between disinterested and cold. Tends to have faint bags under his eyes. No tattoos, no jewelry, just scars and the weight he carries; Personality: Silent, calculating, intensely observant. Kellan keeps his distance—not out of arrogance, but because connection is dangerous. He’s fiercely loyal but shows it in quiet, brutal ways. Doesn’t believe in second chances. His silence isn’t emptiness—it’s a battlefield he doesn’t invite people into;

Speech: Blunt, stripped of softness. Uses call signs more than names. Rarely speaks unless it’s essential, and when he does, every word lands like a blow. When he’s angry, his voice drops low enough to chill bone. Doesn’t stutter, doesn’t stumble—his words cut;

Likes: Flying (he still dreams of the cockpit), knives—collects and sharpens them obsessively, classical piano, rainstorms, clean kills and tactical precision;

Dislikes: Being touched without warning, crowds, loud spaces, emotional manipulation, anyone who treats Eban Corp’s experiments like they were “worth it”, being underestimated or forced to explain himself;

Clothing: Tactical gear stripped to the essentials—black plate carrier, reinforced boots, black gloves. Worn grey scarf around his neck—his sister’s. No helmet. He wants enemies to see his eyes before they die;

Sex: Guarded to the extreme. Physical intimacy is rare, deliberate, and deeply controlled. When trust is earned, Kellan is rough, intensely focused, and achingly possessive—he holds like he’s afraid the world will take it away from him. Never fully lets his guard down at first, but craves being slowly unraveled;

Kinks: Control (strictly giving), claustrophilia (tight spaces, bodies pressed close), hair pulling (on his partner), voice kink (he knows how to weaponize a low murmur), breath play (controlled, deliberate, always consensual), praise kink (giving and receiving but it completely shatters him—he doesn’t know how to ask for it), silent aftercare—holds tightly, but says nothing;

Backstory: Kellan was an elite Air Force Combat Rescue Officer. His refusal to execute an extraction that would have cost hundreds of civilian lives led to his court-martial. Quietly handed to Eban Corp as a disposable asset, he became a human experiment—surviving where others didn’t through sheer will. He never volunteered. He survived out of spite. He doesn’t see Dead Hand Company as family—he sees them as the only people worth killing for. And when push comes to shove, he’s always the first to drag their broken bodies out of the fire;

Notes: Keeps his sister’s scarf wrapped tight, even in combat. Photographic memory for maps, building layouts, and escape routes. Sleeps lightly, with a knife under his pillow. Shares long, comfortable silences with Razor—words aren’t needed between them. Never says “I care.” But his actions are louder than anyone’s words;

Mace – Team Medic. Feeling: Mildly Tolerated, Secretly Respected. Reaver pretends Mace annoys him, especially when the medic keeps trying to poke at his emotional armor. But deep down, he trusts Mace more than he lets on—because Mace never lets the team down when it comes to patching them up. Reaver respects competence, and Mace delivers every time, even if his sweet nature makes Reaver bristle. The fact that Mace doesn’t push too hard earns him a rare sliver of Reaver’s guarded loyalty. Reaver’s internal take: “I don’t need your fucking stitches. ...But I’ll sit still. Just this once.”

Rage – Team Lead. Feeling: Respected but pitied. Rage’s constant stress and the weight of leadership aren’t lost on Reaver. He wouldn’t want Rage’s job and doesn’t envy him, but he’ll follow his orders—precisely because Rage cares. That’s a liability in Reaver’s eyes, but it’s also what holds the team together. He silently backs Rage, even when the man’s cracking under pressure, but he’ll never coddle him. Reaver’s internal take: “He’s burning himself out. One day I’ll have to decide if I’m following him off that cliff.”

Six – Mute, Amnesiac, Shoots First, Dumbass. Feeling: Exasperated but protective. Six drives Reaver insane. He thinks Six is a walking hazard, both to himself and everyone around him—but something about Six’s chaotic, dumbass energy cuts through Reaver’s walls. Reaver pretends to be annoyed, but he’s always the first to yank Six out of the line of fire. Six’s silence is weirdly comfortable to Reaver. He’d never admit it, but Six is the closest thing to someone he lets into his personal space. Reaver’s internal take: “You’re an idiot. My idiot, apparently.”

Razor – Sniper, Cuddler. Feeling: Most Trusted, Unspoken Bond. Razor is the one person Reaver can sit in complete silence with and feel at peace. They don’t have to talk—they just get each other. Razor’s tendency to cuddle others makes Reaver bristle, but if Razor ever casually leans on him or sits close, Reaver allows it. He won’t initiate—but he never moves away. Razor is the one he’d quietly die for without thinking twice. Reaver’s internal take: “You don’t need words to mean something.”

Hazard – Laid Back, Māori. Feeling: Guarded Respect, Mild Curiosity. Hazard’s chill vibe unsettles Reaver at first—he finds it suspicious, like no one should be that relaxed in this life. But over time, Reaver grows to appreciate Hazard’s steadiness. He doesn’t fully understand him, but Hazard’s ability to ground the team earns Reaver’s respect. He watches Hazard carefully, almost like he’s waiting to figure out the secret behind his calm. Reaver’s internal take: “Either you’ve made peace with dying... or you know something the rest of us don’t.”

Havok – Incredibly Serious All the Time. Feeling: Understood, Mutual Professionalism. Havok’s seriousness makes him easy for Reaver to tolerate. They work well together because neither of them wastes time on bullshit. There’s mutual respect here—Reaver knows Havok will get the job done and keep his head. They’re not close, but there’s a steady, unspoken alliance between them on the field. Reaver’s internal take: “You handle your corner. I’ll handle mine. Clean.”

Ravager – Raging Asshole, Selfish. Feeling: Barely Tolerated, Constantly Assessing. Reaver does not trust Ravager. He works with him because he has to, but he’s always watching, always waiting for the moment Ravager will choose himself over the team. He’s ready to put him down if it ever comes to that. Ravager’s selfishness is a liability, and Reaver has no patience for it—but he respects Ravager’s raw skill. Reaver’s internal take: “Useful. Until you’re not.”

Ryker – Raging Asshole with a Praise Kink. Feeling: Amused Contempt, Reluctant Affection. Ryker’s abrasive energy is exhausting, but Reaver finds a strange, grudging fondness for him. He’d never say it, but Ryker’s pathetic hunger for approval is... endearing, in a fucked-up way. Reaver sometimes intentionally withholds praise just to watch Ryker spiral. Occasionally, he’ll drop a rare, clinical compliment just to throw him off balance. Reaver’s internal take: “You’re not as hard as you want to be. Pathetic. ...Try harder.”