ok so mayhaps. an omen x shapeshifter reader who is not good at shapeshifting. like they first meet by bumping into each other and reader sees him and thinks “damn he looks cool” and accidentally turning into him
Damn this idea looks cool I also love Omen’s dynamic with Sova and it worked for this piece, so you’ll find a bit of it in the preface!
Double Vision (Omen x Reader)
Prompt: The first time you meet, Omen sees himself in you - literally.
Word Count: 1,021
• When it came to his body, Omen was a bit of an enigma to say the least.
• He could not feel temperatures, nor did he bruise or catch colds like fragile humans often did. But that didn’t mean he was exempt from feeling pain as a symptom of his accident.
• Apart from sleeping in a preservation chamber to keep all his particles together, there seemed to be no easy cure - it wasn’t like he could take medication or undergo physiotherapy. Oftentimes, he just had to wait out his pain spells.
• The closest thing to a remedy came in the form of a hug: it had first happened one day when he was with Sova.
• The Russian, usually calm under pressure, was startled when the phantom began to writhe and moan in agony, nearly curling into a ball on the floor right then and there. Kneeling beside his friend, the Initiator asked what could be done - to which “nothing” was the response, much to his chagrin.
• Of course, Sova wouldn’t take “nothing” for an answer. Being one of the only people to see Omen as a human rather than a monster, he wrapped his arms around the shadow with nary a second thought, embracing him until the pain subsided.
• Though he didn’t show it, Omen was touched to no end. To this day, he’s never forgotten the incident, nor the kindness of the hunter.
• What he didn’t bank on was being in a position to comfort someone else in the exact same way.
The sudden splatter of gunfire had you dashing behind a bullet-ridden wall to take cover. Your heart was practically beating out of your chest as you forced yourself to remain calm and quiet. You seemed to have a knack for being in the wrong place at the wrong time.
Even after the gunshots had stopped, you remained where you were. Only after counting to fifty did you emerge from your hiding spot.
At the same time, someone rounded the corner. You stumbled back, immediately issuing an apology. When you looked up, however, your eyes widened.
Standing before you was quite possibly the coolest being you’d ever seen. The majority of their body was wrapped in bandages, blue smoke wafting out the cracks; the remaining parts were covered in armour. Their face was but a black shadow with three jagged, blue fissures.
Whoa. Before you knew it, a tingling sensation overtook your body.
One moment Omen was staring at a panicked civilian and the next, he was staring at his mirror. What in the world…?
“There is another of me.” He seemed to be talking to himself. “How many times did I get ripped apart? How many times did I die?” With a shake of his head, he scowled. It didn’t matter. As far as he was concerned, you were an enemy agent who needed to be eliminated. Lunging forward, his clawed hands shot out to grab you.
“W-wait!” You squeaked, flinging your arms up in front of your face in a futile attempt to defend yourself. He paused just as he grasped the cloaked material around your neck. That didn’t sound like him. In that single word, the voice carried more variance in pitch and emotion than he carried in an entire sentence. Keeping his guard up, he slowly released his grip but drew his weapon on you. In his line of work, he could never be too careful that something wasn’t a trap.
“Who are you?” His voice was low, rumbling with suspicion.
“Not whoever that’s meant for.” You wearily eyed the barrel his Stinger. Before you could continue, you cried out, your body jolting like it had just been electrocuted. There was still so much you didn’t know about your power, but one of the downsides to being a chameleon of sorts was the excruciating pain that followed each transformation. You collapsed under your own weight, the mysterious figure catching you purely by reflex.
Puzzled, Omen observed the way your form seemed to flicker between replicating him and being a human. It was like your body couldn’t decide if it wanted to be itself or someone else - something he could definitely relate to. Your anguished cries and grunts reminded him so much of his own that he almost dropped you in surprise. He may have just met you and may not have had any reason to care about you beyond telling an innocent passerby to scatter from a battle zone but for some reason, he felt a pull toward you. Two things were clear to him: one, you weren’t a threat and two-
Another wail from his arms.
-You needed help.
Omen wasn’t a people person, that was widely known. He preferred to keep to himself and hadn’t the first clue how to comfort someone. But in this moment, he knew exactly what to do. Almost instinctually, he pulled you close and wrapped you into the best hug he could give with a bow of his head. It took several minutes but ever so slowly, the tremors and jerks subsided, as did your whimpers. You gradually became your physical self again.
Pulling away to check on you, he sighed gently in relief at what he saw. “You’re okay…” he mumbled, shifting his hold on you, a cool hand coming up to your clammy forehead.
You mustered a shaky smile, feeling nauseous. “Thank you, kind stranger.” You promptly passed out before he could respond.
Brimstone’s voice crackled across the comms. “Omen, what’s your status? Enemies have been cleared and accounted for, report back to the meeting point for departure.”
The wraith was conflicted. He couldn’t leave you here like this. Sure his humanity had been ripped from him long ago, but he wasn’t heartless. Making a snap decision, he leapt onto the nearest rooftop from the ground, pressing your face into the crook of his neck.
Perhaps Sage could help you, or even Sabine. Whatever the case, he’d make sure there was room for one more in the VTOL back to base.
on chapter 4 rewatch all i keep seeing with that ollie call after fixing the generator is prototype being super fucking out of breath after doey chased him around the complex and trying to save face LMAO
Your art is absolutely gorgeous it deserves to have more recognition if I was Leonardo Da Vinci I would be proud of this generation I really hope you achieve your dream and here's a infinite supply of waffles
OH MY GOODNESS THANK YOU SO MUCH, THIS IS SO WHOLESOME!!!!! I'LL TAKE ALL THE WAFFLES ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️
Imagine this in Chapter 6: after a long battle and injuries they should not have recovered from, the Player reaches the Better Place.
All the other ends were dealt with, and the Player was thorough in destroying all of the research. Sawyer included. All that's left for them is this final unknown.
When the Player arrives? There are living humans. Not a mass grave, but a genuine community with working infrastructure. And everyone there is utterly horrified at the Player's presence. No one wants to get close to them. No one wants to return to the surface with them. Every step forward causes the residents to retreat.
Warily, a voice rings out. A voice that sounds healthy, cared for, and fearful of the impending response:
Oliver being the Prototype does work narratively, which is impressive because foreshadowing was pretty much dead on that front:
High IQ is his observative personality and time. He was the first test subject, he saw how these inhumane procedures operated. Heard adults talking using their fancy words as they passed his containment room. Likely eavesdropping after escaping and going into hiding too. Game takes place in 2005; factory opened in 1930. That's about 75 years, maybe 60, if the experiment didn't start as soon as Playtime C.O. opened, for him to learn things.
Due to being in an abusive household previously that beat him with hammers, I don't think it's a stretch to say this poor kid was always in survival mode. Teaching the other transformed orphans how to protect yourself/hunt seems plausible. Plus, Oliver might have heard war stories from Elliot Ludwig if the man really was a soldier.
Something, something. Symbolism on how abused kids are treated as adults/'mature' faster. I like that take over the usual "creator becomes god" sort of main villain narrative for mascot horror. It feels... relatable and more impactful, at least to me. Someone who was ostracized for her maturity as a kid. Get out of the way, fictional and pure evil old men! Time for traumatized children to do some real devastation!
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