Chapter 4: The Reaper
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Legatus XVIII - Wrath
"They did not name you Wrath without reason, number eighteen." Envy waved his knife about carelessly in front of Wrath's face, going so far as to jab the miniaturized gunblade towards his fellow Legatus. "Yet you're always so quiet and reserved. I sense no Wrath in you! They should have gifted me that title! You're pathet-"
Wrath drew his Gunblade and locked it with Envy's before disarming the pugnacious Legatus in one fluid and swift swipe. Before nineteen had any time to react, he was staring directly down the barrel of Wrath's wrist-mounted aetheric launcher. The device clicked once and began to hum lightly, signifying it was active and primed. Though he spoke no words as usual, it was painfully obvious he would not think twice before dispatching Envy -- regardless of the consequences.
"Now if only you could maintain that anger." the rogue chirped, pushing Wrath's arm off to the side in an almost playful manner. Envy had always been a strange character, one that never really fit in anywhere. He was very vocal and provocative, though only in a teasing manner. The men of his legion had taken to calling him "The Jester" because of his odd traits. Over time he grew into the persona, even going so far as to having his armor tailored to the likeness of a wicked Jester. His prosthetic legs only added to this identity with the extreme agility they bestowed upon him. Watching him fight was not unlike watching a Jester. He rolled and cartwheeled about like a madman, toying with his opponents as a means to drive them into a seething rage. Yet despite becoming the maniacal character he had become associated with, he never lost a grasp of why he was named Envy in the first place. While by no means a colorful quality, his envious ways drove him to take that which he wanted without hesitation. Once the jealousy set in, he was relentless in his goal until the prize was his, and his alone.
Wrath was almost his exact opposite. He remained cool and collected at all times. His own men had taken to calling him "The Reaper" due to the haunting qualities he bore in the field of battle. It was not uncommon to spot him walking calmly amongst the carnage as if he were on nothing but a casual stroll. Wrath just seemed to never be in a hurry. Many affiliated this spine-chilling trait to his quietness. He was not vocal because he was always one step ahead. Never in a rush. However, he was named Wrath for good reason. Though he rarely spoke, it was possible to almost feel the rage and hatred seething from him at times, even if his outward appearance was cool, calculated, and collected. His relentless and often deadly accurate onslaughts were driven by his wrath, and his wrath alone. It was because of his rage that he was recruited into the program in the first place. The empire had taken everything from him. His home, his family, in essence they had taken his very life -- not to mention his arm. He was promised revenge in exchange for his service. They clouded his mind with lies, convincing him the Centurion that destroyed his life was a madman - even by Imperial standards. He was a wicked soul, and his fire had to be extinguished. They would help the young Hyur get his revenge so long as he swore allegiance to Empire. Endemerrin accepted the position without question. Nothing would stop him from having it.
Despite his efforts, he was playing right into their hands. They simply toyed with him, forcing him to grow off his wrath. It drove him to succeed at everything he did without a hint of imperfection. As the years rolled by, he slowly began to lose track of why he had joined arms with the empire in the first place. As their brainwashing set in, he became nothing but another weapon of the empire. Endemerrin Rosethorne had been all but locked away deep within his mind. All that was left was his wrath.
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