A/N: Hey all! This is my first work for Apex after seeing all the recent fan art from the quests, I couldn't stop wanting to write. Here, I hope to divulge more on the lore, the life of the legends outside of the area, and focus on becoming a legend from the outside in. I hope you enjoy, and any critiques and tips are much appreciated!

(Story starts from mid S2. Cross-posted on AO3)

1

The Death of Amelia Cray

"Amelia... Chief ..."

The patient on the bed moaned and stirred slightly, reaching up to claw at the oxygen mask on her face, foreign and unwelcome. A gentle hand pulled her back, reassuring her that it was okay.

"Can you hear me, Amelia?"

The woman grunted something inaudible through the mask.

"She's waking up..."

Amelia opened her eyes to a pale, white hospital ceiling, dozens of tubes connected to her forearm; almost comparable to an octopus's. Several screens monitored her movements, her breathing patterns, her heartbeat -it was almost like she was being treated as a science experiment.

Which she was.

After struggling to move, she realized that her entire body minus her arms which were connected to the tubes, were strapped to the cot, not allowing for any space or movement. This realization caused a shock through her system, pushing through the drugs that had been pumped into her body, as she suddenly yanked the mask off her face. The woman moved to pull the tubes out of her arm as well but was stopped suddenly by the muzzle of a pistol in her face.

"Now, now," the masked doctor scolded. "Don't get too excited there."

"Where the fuck am I?" Amelia growled. "What have you done to me?"

The doctor sighed, pulling the mask off his face. "You've got a serious problem, Amelia. Why do you have to be so on edge all the time?"

Her eyes widened. "Ian?"

The doctor smiled. "The one and only. Well, maybe not the one and only, but you get my point."

Ian was her doctor. She trusted him. The man had patched her up after every fire fight she had been through, ever the cheerful one and had a tendency to warn her not to smoke.

"I trusted you, Ian," she said, hurt. "What have you done to me?"

He ran his hands through his hair. "More like what the hell have you done?"

"What are you talking about?"

His eyes narrowed. "If I take these off, you won't hurt me, right?"

"If you promise not to shoot me in the face," she said, gesturing with her head at the pistol in its holster.

He raised his hands. "I promise."

She didn't want to trust him, but she had no choice. She was at the complete mercy of this man, with no recollection of what had happened in the last 24 - or was it 24? - hours she had been out. Her bonds loosened, and tubes out, she sat up in bed, rubbing her stinging arms as she warily looked around the room like a caged animal.

"You don't have to be so cautious, Em," Ian said from his chair. "Although we don't have a lot of time."

"Tell me everything," she asked, straight to the point.

"What do you last remember?" the doctor pressed.

She rubbed her temples, frustrated. Her memory was patchy, filled with inexplicable blank spaces that made her want to tear her hair out. "The last thing I remember is going on call to a gas leak in a research facility. I could tell something was wrong and I pushed the new kid, the probationary out of the way and then- "

"That's when the explosion happened," the doctor nodded sagely.

"Explosion?" she asked.

The doctor pursed his lips together and handed her a screen pad. "I think rather than me explaining what happened, it would be better if you saw yourself."

Her face grew pale and her hazel eyes grew wider in the light of the electronic pad. It was a news article dated one week ago, her smiling face on the front marred with the headline; AMELIA CRAY, FIRE FIGHTER OR ARSONIST? Famed Fire Chief Amelia Cray answered an off duty call for support in regard to a gas leak in a designated Hammond research facility last Tuesday. However, for inexplicable reasons, she took only one man from the squadron with her to the basement, probationary fire fighter whose name has not yet been released to the public and left the rest of the squadron outside of the doors from the affected area. An explosion came from where Cray and the probationary were, killing the officer and the squadron immediately. There were no survivors, save one: Cray herself. Fingerprints and DNA examination from the site and her home prove that she had been to the facility before, planning this all along. She is currently recovering in the hospital in comatose and was not available for questioning. The only question, is WHY?

"The hell is this?" she whispered, looking up at the doctor. "Why are they painting me as an arsonist?"

"That's what I wanted to ask you," the doctor said, and a troubled look came in his eyes. "You really have no idea what happened?"

"No," she said, dropping the screen pad from her shaking hands. "I've never been to that godforsaken facility in my life, I don't know why someone would want to make me the villain, all I wanted to do was help- "

She stopped, feeling his hand on her shoulder. "I get it. I figured as much. You're not that kind of person."

"However, you're wanted by the police now," he paused. "And it seems as though Hammond left a mark on you more than you'd like."

"What does that mean?" she asked quickly.

"From my tests, I've come to the conclusion that Hammond wanted to hide something. And you were on the verge of finding out, and so they had to get rid of you."

"Is that why the crime is being pinned on me?"

He raised his hand. "Let me finish. Did you breathe any air, or intake anything strange while in the facility?"

She looked down at her hands. There was a jagged cut on the palm of her right hand that hadn't been there before. Touching it, a flood of memories, however little came back.

"This hand," she said, holding it up for the doctor to see. "I took my glove off to examine something and I cut my palm."

"That has to be it," he said, touching the scab slightly. It still stung even though his touch was soft.

"You did start the fire," Ian said, grimly.

Silence. And then denial. Then the anger came.

"You told me you believed me!" she snarled. "Why the fuck would I do this to the family I love-!"

He let her finish before he started again. "I never said you did it on purpose."

This stopped Amelia short.

"I ran some tests on you while you were out," he said, striding over to the computer. "Your body appears find, but you have very irregular levels of carbon dioxide and nitrogen, more than enough to kill the human body. Em, I believe you were exposed to some kind of hidden experiment down in those labs, and whatever happened down there caused you to panic and start that fire."

Her mind was blank. The thing that she had fought against for so long, to be able to control it now? First she was an arsonist. Now she was a mutant. She didn't know how much more information her mind could take. The doctor noticed this, and moved towards the woman, but was interrupted by an older man appearing in the doorway.

"And that's where I come in." The man was tall, and almost menacing despite how old he appeared, with thick muscled arms littered with scars and a thick, South African accent Amelia had heard only in middle school, when they had learned about the fate of Earth, and the Frontier War. The man tossed a card onto her bed. "Kuben Blisk, at your service."

"Blisk, she's in a state of shock right now," the doctor said, irritably. "I told you I would contact you when I wanted you to come in."

"We don't have a lot of time, doc," the man replied calmly. "They know she's awake. However right now I've set them on a problem that will keep them busy for, oh I don't know, maybe the next fifteen minutes."

She slowly picked up the card that Blisk had tossed onto her bed. Analyzing it drew her out of her stupor. She knew this card well, although she did not agree with the morals it held. Blood red, the insignia of a cow skull with horns; this was a card from the Apex Games. The legends were held in high regard, very much celebrities in this world, but it was an old blood sport filled with moral, selfish, and most importantly legal issues.

"Look girly, I know you know what that card means," Blisk said. "And I also know you'd rather not be arrested."

She looked up, quickly understanding what he meant. "I don't really want to be a pawn in your games for your money either."

"She speaks!" Blisk laughed, and then gave himself a seat on her bed. "Would you rather be just a lab rat, poked and prodded at until you die? Chained to a place with no freedoms, and no rights?"

"He's got a point," Ian said. "Once they catch you and realize what you've become through Hammond's experiments, they won't stop doing tests on you until your body wears away."

"Or would you rather be an Apex Legend? Life filled with fame and glory and an endless supply of money?" Blisk gave her a closer look. "And my protection."

"What do you mean by that?"

"We will cover all messy legalities for you. You'll have to change your name of course, but we'll wipe the system of your face, and your identity. You'll be a new person, the fresh faced celebrity."

"Why can't you just do that and have me work for you?" Amelia pressed. "Why do you want me in these games so much?"

Blisk's eyes held a dangerous glint and it was there, through the kindness and the smooth talk, that she saw who he really was. "The Games don't have a mutt like you. With a charm like you, our ratings would soar." He drew closer to her. "And why would I do something for a stranger who has nothing to give in return?"

Amelia gritted her teeth. So she was selling her soul to the devil. But what more did she have to lose? It was either this, or torturous captivity.

"Fine."

Blisk's face and tone immediately changed. "Perfect! That's the answer I knew you would get to, girly. My team is waiting for you outside, so once you get out of those scrubs, I'll be waiting outside this door."

Amelia nodded curtly and moved to get out of bed, but Blisk caught her wrist.
"You'll have to prove to me you belong. Otherwise, someone might let slip something to the media, and then... well I don't know what will happen."

She glared at him. "I don't need to prove anything to you."

"Is that what you say to someone who holds your life in their hands?" He smiled wolfishly. "You'll be an interesting one.

"Oh, and girly, one more thing," he murmured in her ear. "One rule in the Apex Games. They kill you, they're better. You kill them, you're better."