The Bar (Revenant/Reader Fanfic)

The Bar

"...You like being scared, huh?" Revenant gazed at you with what you could only assume is smug and amused curosity. This familiar and inevitable angle at which he spoke made you shy away and shrink, and yet your face was a candid invitation for more teasing. He reached out towards your neck and collarbone, thrumming his sharp fingers with a spider-like movement. Even more distracted, you didn't know what to say. He figured so and decided he'd continue:

"Why do you keep coming back, little skinsuit?" Revenant said, false concern dripping off of his synthetic tongue. His drawl on "coming back" was enough to send visual chills down your spine, and you were aware that he relished in it. An amused noise sounded from him. He continued to spider his hand up your neck, before slowly wrapping and squeezing it. When you thought about it, and all those times before, you had no idea why you were coming back.

This robot hadn't been kind to you in your first meetings, but that was to be expected. He was the renowned hot-headed, murderous simulacrum that couldn't be bothered with who he calls "skinsuits." Everyone, specifically the Legends would usually leave him be to avoid conflict or possible death. They knew he'd never not be up to it.

Your first meeting had been in his favorite bar. He'd been a regular there (really meaning he had terrified the owner, "Tooonyyy" into not calling the authorities or cause a frenzy when he visited. Poor guy). Sat in his usual dingy booth, Revenant looked around, not knowing what he was searching for. He never came there for a drink, mainly because he couldn't consume anything anyways. Something about the peace he was able to maintain there was nice.

Nothing in particular to occupy him, the robot scanned his simulated brain to check if the Syndicate had given him more jobs.

Yeah, there was an easy one. Getting up from his booth, Revenant started towards the door. Entering the bar from it was a new skinsuit he never saw around before.

"Hm." He thought as his orange eyes peered at them.

Upon entering, the human's face contorts from initial surprise then mortification and sudden regret when he makes eye contact with them.

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Okay, think. Should you just turn around and hope you can reach your home with only mental damage and being inflicted with night terrors? No, that's showing fear and that guy likes that! His name.. Revenant.. he's that ruthless murderbot in the Apex games that literally laughs when he snaps his opponents limbs like straw. You've heard he's done worse outside the games.

In your barely concealed panic, Revenant locks eyes with you and you only take notice when he starts bounding forward. Why is he here? Why is everyone is so calm? You look around desperately for help, meeting the eyes of the bartender. He quickly averts his attention to a glass he was preparing. Bystanders of your expected murder looked down at their drinks or holopads. Are they going to let you die? You just wanted to have a nice relaxation after a long day, and now after this you'll relax forever. You felt sick. Stood there frozen at the door, you winced, accepting your fate as he was one step away from you.

"Out of the way, skinsuit."

The stabbing, the screams, and the pain and the horrific graphic death never happened. All you felt was his lower arm strike your shoulder, which only left a sting.

You stood there blinking, and you lift your arm to stroke the dull pain in your other. The bar's chatter suddenly increased and no one batted an eye in your direction. Appalled, you walk towards the bartender. You squint and open your mouth to say something, but stop for a moment. "Just get me vodka," you snide and look at his nametag, "Tony." He gets to work immediately, but glances up. "It- it's on the house." You scoff and roll your eyes, as if a free drink could make up for not interfering with your murder. "It better be."

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On your lunch break, you sluggishly scroll through your phone searching for a way to treat yourself. This week's work had been hard on you.. so many lazy coworkers and several furious customers rendered you drained emotionally and physically. You weren't one to drink your problems away, but the list of ideas you had consisted of just that.

The other problem was you were slightly paranoid. It'd be inconvenient to have a run in with Revenant again but every other bar you went to had creeps. Not sure how the one with the nearly literal devil walking around was any better though. On the bright side, all you really had to do was drink and mind your business. And besides, it wasn't guaranteed he'd be there. And plus even if he was there, the people in there seemed to just ignore him or leave him be.

You exited your workplace, somehow convinced to come back (your verbal confirmation to yourself was throwing your hands up in the air and saying "Fuck it, we ball," because you realized you kept making up excuses).

You freshened up at home and came back in style. Nothing too fancy, but just enough for you to feel good going out. Entering the bar the second time, you actually got to look around. The first time you'd been scared blind and only focused on the fact you were prey in front of its hungry predator.

It was a quaint little bar, with Hispanic style decor in some places. To your right, 5 booths span out, although who's inside can't be seen upon entering. To the left is Tony's workspace, as well as a row of barstools, pretty usual of your stereotypical bar. You take a seat at one of the stools and get Tony's attention. He turns to you with a content look to a slight cringe.
"He- yyy..." Tony falters. "....you're that person from that other time. What can I getcha?" He questions with that same cringe and hiss from earlier. He still feels like he's on your bad side. You let Tony know your regular from now on, and look at him with a softer look. "Look, I'm not gonna dwell on that, for real. I felt like I was gonna piss myself,  so I can't expect you guys to go play hero for me."

Tony looks up from another customers drink and furrows his brows. "Man, I still feel bad though...I practically ignored you." You want to reach an arm out to comfort him, but considering you'd have to reach over the bar itself you opt for words. "It's alright, Tony. I'm alive! And after a few drinks I'll forgive you soon enough," you joke. Tony laughs a little, and your verbal mission feels accomplished.

You see him in the middle of sliding your drink to you all cool-like, but you see his expression darken, and hear the room go quiet. Tony gently hands your drink, and you take it. Burning holes into your glass, you so desperately want to see what stopped the commotion but you just already know. It's him. Has to be.

You hear hard footsteps on the wooden floor come closer and closer, and you'd never found a shot glass so god damn interesting. Your heart drops when you realize the robot hand taken the stool to your right. Being in any proximity with that thing is horrific. And then it speaks.

"You're that skinsuit from that other night, aren't you?" Revenant asks. You don't say anything until you finish your drink. Because as least you can book it with sound reason after you answer this.

"Uhm.. Yeah- Yeah, I am." You steal a quick glance and scooch farther out of your chair. "I'm actually planning on leaving now-"

"Leaving so soon? But we just started talking, skinsuit?" He fakes hurt and clutches your arm harshly. Finally fully looking at his unmoving face, you understand you're not getting out of this easy.

Revenant turns his head to Tony, and demands him to get you another drink. He does just that, and you have to be sat here with the scariest spawn of Satan bothering you for God knows what. When will he get bored? Probably never. At the very least you could  pretend not to care.

"So," You clear your throat, "how's the Games?" You ask very "chalantly."

"Oh, they're great skinsuit. I got to torture a few other skinsuits, y'know wearing their face as masks, making rings out of the skin of their finger, the normal stuff."
You flinch as he touches your shoulder and reaches one hand up to grab your jaw roughly, twisting your head and surveying your face. "By the by, did anyone ever tell you your face is pretty enough to be a mask?" He casually says, resting his head on his hand looking at you. You're not really sure how you felt about that last sentence but it was bad enough to be more concerning than anything. You've mostly completed your drink and you want nothing more than to just leave and question your decision of coming here.

He lets out a hum that you can't seem to pinpoint the emotion behind, and he gets up.  He leaves.