[KAISER – POV]
I flexed my fingers again, watching tendrils of black flame twist and dance around my palm like psychotic ballerinas. Killmonger's trait was like swallowing molten lightning—powerful, chaotic, and hell-bent on testing my patience.
"Goddamn," I muttered, grinning despite the pain. "Feels like an orgasm had an existential crisis inside my nervous system."
I turned, eager to rub my newfound awesomeness in Hawk's battered face, but paused as I caught sight of her sprawled out like a particularly pissed-off corpse on the battlefield's concrete rubble.
She looked up at me, her face a blood-smeared masterpiece of irritation and vulnerability. "Are you seriously playing with yourself again? We have rules against that, remember?"
I snorted, stepping closer, flame dying out smoothly. "Jealousy is unbecoming of you, Hawk."
"Bite me, Kaiser."
"Oh, gladly. But you'd enjoy that way too much." I crouched beside her, peering down. "Wow. You really nailed that badass assassin aesthetic—lying broken and bleeding. Ten outta ten."
She raised a shaky hand, flipped me off, and groaned. "Remind me why I haven't killed you yet?"
"Charm. Wit. Killer fashion sense. Pick your poison." I smiled, softer than usual, and touched her forehead lightly. Blood was drying on her cheek, accentuating sharp cheekbones and defiant eyes. "You're messed up pretty bad, princess. Looks like you're in need of some heroic rescuing."
Her glare intensified. "Call me princess again and I'll rip your tongue out and use it as a bookmark."
I laughed, genuine amusement bubbling up. "I love our little talks."
She rolled her eyes painfully, wincing. "So, what's your genius plan now? Taunt me to death?"
"Better," I said, slipping an arm carefully beneath her shoulders. She flinched slightly, and I paused, meeting her gaze seriously. "Easy. I've got you."
She stared at me, expression caught somewhere between disbelief and resignation. "You being gentle makes me nervous."
"Relax," I murmured, smirking gently. "This is purely selfish. Can't brag about being the greatest Apex bastard alive if I let my favorite sociopath bleed out."
Her lips twitched slightly, almost a smile. Almost. "Good to know you're still an asshole."
"Consistency is key," I replied smoothly, lifting her gently. Her body felt deceptively fragile in my grip—an uncomfortable reminder that Hawk was human beneath the armor of violence and sarcasm. "Hold tight, Hawk. I've got just the place."
"Your bedroom doesn't count as a hospital," she muttered weakly.
"It's better," I grinned mischievously. "It's where I hide my toys."
[HAWK – POV]
The world spun unpleasantly as Kaiser carried me down twisted streets and narrow alleys. Every step was agony; every breath tasted like rust and bad decisions. Yet, weirdly, I felt safe—an uncomfortable sensation I refused to acknowledge.
Kaiser navigated the ruins confidently, finally stopping before a battered metal door tucked discreetly into a shattered building. He pressed his palm to a hidden sensor, and the door slid open with a whisper.
"Welcome," he said dramatically, "to Casa Kaiser."
We stepped inside. I blinked slowly, disbelieving. The place was…insane. Starkly lit, sleek, meticulously clean, and utterly bizarre. Weapons hung in precise rows on polished walls—guns, knives, bizarrely-shaped blades that made my Razor Pulse look tame. Glass cases held severed Apex trait cores, faintly glowing trophies. A holographic chess set hovered mid-game, pieces frozen mid-battle.
And then, in a glass case labeled 'SOUVENIRS FROM POOR LIFE CHOICES,' sat a disturbingly lifelike human skull wearing sunglasses and a neon pink party hat.
I raised an eyebrow painfully. "Who's that unlucky bastard?"
Kaiser shrugged casually, laying me down gently onto a clean surgical-style bed. "That's Larry."
"Larry?"
"He was a debt collector. Bad conversationalist. Worse negotiator," Kaiser said, smirking fondly at the skull. "We kept in touch."
"You're twisted," I mumbled, wincing as pain spiked.
He turned serious suddenly, leaning closer. "Relax. I need to patch you up."
His voice softened, gentle enough to scare me. Kaiser, gentle, was dangerous—especially to my carefully maintained indifference.
I swallowed uneasily. "You sure you're qualified?"
"I've dissected enough people to know how they go back together," he said confidently, pulling out a sleek med-kit. "Just try not to punch me. Again."
"No promises," I growled, though it was half-hearted. Pain dulled my edge, pulling unwelcome honesty to the surface. "Why are you doing this, Kaiser? What's your angle?"
He hesitated, sterilizing wounds with surprising delicacy. His touch, careful and gentle, felt strangely intimate. "Maybe I don't have an angle."
"Bullshit," I whispered, eyes locked onto his face. "Everybody has an angle."
"Fair," he admitted quietly, avoiding my gaze as he applied healing nanites. Painful warmth blossomed through my limbs. "Maybe mine's…trying something different."
"Different?" I asked skeptically, wincing at the sting.
His fingers stilled momentarily, then resumed. "Look, Hawk… you're dangerous, complicated, violently unstable—my favorite kind of nightmare. And honestly, I'm tired of doing this solo."
I stared at him. My heart did something annoyingly sentimental. "You…you're saying you trust me?"
He smirked, meeting my gaze again, vulnerability hidden behind practiced charm. "Trust is strong. Let's say I trust you not to kill me yet."
I laughed weakly, strangely touched. "Fair enough."
We fell silent, the quiet comfortable and tense at once. After a long moment, I broke the silence cautiously. "So, the stealing-powers thing…what's the story?"
His expression hardened briefly, shadows flickering in his eyes. "I wasn't born Kaiser. I became Kaiser. It's easier to be someone terrifying than someone broken."
"Trauma breeds power," I whispered, understanding deeply. "But it doesn't heal it."
"No," he murmured, something heavy in his voice. "It just weaponizes it."
He finished the bandages, sitting back heavily. We stared at each other, two broken pieces reflecting uncomfortable truths.
Finally, he sighed dramatically. "Enough depressing shit. Want a tour?"
"Sure," I said, relieved. "Let's start with Larry."
He grinned widely, humor returning. "Excellent choice. His skull glows in the dark."
As he pulled me gently up, careful not to disturb the healing, I felt something strange bloom between us—trust, camaraderie, maybe something more.
Dangerous. Complicated. But tempting as hell.
For once, I let myself lean into it.
After all, I'd survived worse.
And maybe, just maybe, Kaiser was worth the risk.
[HAWK – POV]
I watched Kaiser carefully arranging some medical tools—his posture calm, movements smooth, expression frustratingly unreadable. My eyes drifted around his private sanctuary, finally settling on a polished liquor cabinet tucked neatly in the corner. My throat burned with dust and dry blood; right now, alcohol sounded like divine medicine.
"You mind?" I asked rhetorically, already reaching toward a dark, crystalline bottle labeled with something unintelligible but clearly expensive. "Pretty sure I earned this."
"Knock yourself out," Kaiser murmured, still distracted.
I twisted off the ornate cap, sniffed appreciatively—deep, rich, sharp—and took a generous swallow straight from the bottle.
It burned fiercely, deliciously. Heat spread through my chest, relaxing the sharp edges of pain. I sighed appreciatively, lifting the bottle again—
"Whoa," Kaiser suddenly interjected, eyebrows raised in surprise, amusement, and slight disbelief. "That's my favorite—and also ridiculously expensive. You're chugging it like water."
I shrugged, taking another defiant swig. "Does this look like a face that cares about your overpriced booze?"
His smirk widened. "You know, only two people have ever dared drink that straight from the bottle: you and Larry."
I froze mid-sip, staring pointedly at the skull in the glass case still wearing his obnoxious neon party hat. "You mean…?"
He nodded solemnly. "Yup. And look how well it turned out for Larry."
I laughed, almost choking, coughing violently. "You're so fucked up."
Kaiser winked, pouring himself a measured glass and clinking it dramatically against my bottle. "And yet here you are."
We drank in silence for a moment, the warmth of alcohol softening the tension between us. Kaiser settled into a plush black chair, one leg draped casually over the armrest, watching me with curious intensity.
I stared back, finally feeling comfortable enough—or perhaps buzzed enough—to ask the burning question. "So… Kaiser. Real name or just another flex?"
His smile faltered slightly, a shadow crossing his expression. He took a slow sip, looking distant. "Kaiser wasn't my first name."
"Well, yeah. No shit," I said sarcastically. "Unless your mom had epic delusions of grandeur."
He chuckled softly, eyes distant. "Tyler."
"What?"
"My real name was Tyler," he said quietly, almost reluctantly. "Tyler wayland."
I raised an eyebrow, smirking despite myself. "Tyler? You? Seriously?"
He laughed sharply. "Trust me, I wasn't thrilled either. Sounded like the kid who'd get shoved into lockers—which, ironically, I was."
"So why Kaiser?"
His face grew somber, eyes haunted by memories. "Because 'Kaiser' means emperor. The one who rules the kings. Tyler was powerless, scared, broken. Kaiser was someone else—someone stronger."
I studied his face, realizing suddenly that the carefree arrogance was more mask than personality. "Powerless? You?"
He nodded slowly, expression darkening. "Back during the end of the world, World War III… I was just a kid, Tyler . Had a mom, dad, little sister named Ellie. Cute kid, annoying as hell. Normal family—then everything went to shit."
His voice dropped, strained. "Bombs fell, cities burned, and suddenly, our lives meant nothing. Soldiers came, took what they wanted. People screamed, people died… our home was ashes. My parents—gone in seconds."
My chest tightened, dread pooling heavily. "Your sister…?"
He hesitated, jaw clenching painfully. "Ellie and I survived for a while. Hid, stole food, tried to hold onto each other. Until one night… a group of soldiers found us."
My heart stopped. "Oh God."
He continued, voice low, trembling slightly despite his efforts. "Held me down. Made me watch. She screamed my name, begged me to stop them. But I was a kid—powerless, useless, pathetic. I watched her die, Hawk. I watched my sister, Ellie, my whole fucking family, get taken away."
He took a shaky breath, eyes glistening dangerously, haunted by echoes of his past. "After that, I got visions—constant nightmares replaying every detail. For years, I drowned in them. But somewhere in all that, I stopped being Tyler."
I leaned closer unconsciously, entranced and horrified. "So, you became Kaiser."
He nodded slowly, deadly calm returning. "Exactly. I buried Tyler under layers of anger, hate, sarcasm, arrogance—anything to keep people away. I trained relentlessly, mastered every weapon, every tech, every goddamn Apex trait I could rip out. All just to make sure nobody would ever hurt me again. Nobody would be stronger than me."
I understood him then—truly saw beneath the cocky facade, the real scars. "And the soldiers?"
Kaiser smiled softly—dark, dangerous satisfaction. "I hunted them. All of them. Tracked every bastard down, ripped them apart. I made them scream my sister's name, beg her forgiveness before they died."
I stared at him, chest aching from emotions I refused to name. "Revenge doesn't fix things."
He met my gaze, eyes reflecting ancient pain. "No, it doesn't. But it feels really fucking good in the moment."
We fell quiet, alcohol forgotten, silence stretching comfortably. Finally, I reached out awkwardly, gently gripping his wrist. "I'm… sorry. For what happened. For Ellie."
His eyes softened, rare vulnerability bleeding through. "Yeah. Me too."
Then he shook himself slightly, expression morphing back to his usual cocky arrogance. "Alright, enough emotional torture porn for tonight. Feelings make me nauseous."
I smiled faintly, grateful for the shift. "Agreed. That was enough trauma-bonding for the whole apocalypse."
He snorted, rolling his eyes dramatically. "Any more sharing, and we'll have matching friendship bracelets by dawn. Gross."
I laughed softly, genuinely. "Wouldn't want you losing your badass reputation."
"Exactly," he agreed solemnly, leaning back comfortably. "But hey, at least you know my tragic origin story now."
I smirked wryly, taking another sip. "Lucky me."
He paused thoughtfully, glancing toward Larry's skull and back at me, mischievous grin returning. "But seriously, no more straight-from-the-bottle drinking. I don't want you to end up next to Larry."
I grinned wickedly, lifting the bottle defiantly. "No promises."
Kaiser laughed, warm and genuine, easing the tension further. "You really are a fucking menace, Hawk."
I smirked softly, eyes locked onto his face. "Takes one to know one, Kaiser."
He nodded appreciatively, eyes sparking playfully again. "Then we're completely fucked, aren't we?"
I chuckled deeply, warmth blooming through my chest—not just from alcohol. "Absolutely."
Strangely, though, looking at Kaiser—broken, dangerous, and deeply human—I didn't mind.
Maybe, just maybe, this apocalypse wasn't so lonely after all.
[KAISER – POV]
The wind hit us like it owed us money.
Scarpoint stretched out below—broken, twitching, burning in all the right places. We didn't talk for a while. Just watched the world rot in real time.
I glanced at Hawk. She was quiet. That wasn't normal. Not for her.
So I asked the one question I shouldn't have.
"So. What's your story?"
She didn't look at me. Not at first. Just let the question dangle there like a live wire.
"You mean like, how I got my traits? Or the part where I stopped giving a shit?"
"Dealer's choice."
She snorted. Took a breath that sounded like it scraped her ribs on the way out.
[HAWK – POV]
I didn't tell this story. Ever. But something about the height, the silence, the fucking city bleeding in the background... it made it harder to lie.
"You know the name Overlord Veyne?"
Kaiser stiffened slightly.
"Faintly," he said. "Ashdown zone. Kingpin of logistics. Ran trait-harvest routes through corpse trains, right? Apex vivisections. Red-tier war crimes on Wednesdays."
"Yeah," I said flatly. "That's him."
She looked at me then—Oracle-Eye dimmed, like even the AI didn't want to see this part.
"He killed my dad," I said.
And just like that, the words were blades again. Dull from disuse, but still sharp where it mattered.
"He was an engineer. Nothing special. Not Apex. Just a guy who kept the water running and the lights flickering for one of the old settlements in Scarpoint. Honest. Quiet. The kind of man who fixed things with his hands and hoped for better."
I didn't say the rest right away.
"Then Veyne rolled in. Said he needed test subjects. Claimed it was a 'compliance scan.' My dad stepped up. Said no."
She laughed once. Sharp and bitter.
"Guess how long that lasted."
Kaiser didn't answer. Smart man.
"They took him apart," I said. "Alive. In front of me."
I let that hang in the air.
"Didn't kill him. Not at first. Just… kept pulling pieces off. Data-mining his nerves for 'trait-adjacent responses.' Testing thresholds."
Her voice went flat.
"Turns out, watching your father scream until he goes quiet? That's enough trauma to spark a trait."
Kaiser didn't speak.
"My first was Razor Pulse. I killed five guards with it. Barely conscious. My skin still screaming. Blood everywhere. But I didn't get to him in time."
I swallowed the last part.
"And the worst part? The absolute worst part?"
Kaiser looked at me now. Really looked.
"I never got to kill Veyne," I whispered. "Three years I hunted that bastard. Three years. Every contract I took was to get closer. I got his scent once. Saw the convoy. Tracked it for nine days through Ashrot. Then... nothing. Just smoke. Burnt corpses. Confirmation tags said he was dead."
Pause.
"I didn't even get to hear him beg."
[KAISER – POV]
I knew that name. Overlord Veyne. Nasty fucker. Made his soldiers cut the tongues out of anyone who screamed in pain during "processing."
But something else jogged.
Smoke. Convoy. Ashrot. Three years ago.
"Oh..."
"What?" she snapped.
I blinked. Bit my lip.
"Okay, so, awkward story time."
She narrowed her eyes.
"Three years ago, I got drunk on a bet. I was in Ashrot. Some warlord bet me I couldn't infiltrate a mobile Kingpin lab convoy and kill the boss without using weapons."
"You're kidding."
"No. No, I'm not. I bet my neural rig on it."
"And...?"
"I used a sharpened toothbrush, a can of lube, and one very cooperative sexbot."
Hawk just stared at me.
I nodded solemnly.
"Got in. Got the kill. Set the entire fleet on fire. Didn't even know who the bastard was. Just a name on the manifest. Veyne. Yeah. That was me."
Silence.
Her Oracle-Eye flared. Her jaw clenched. Then—
"You absolute—"
"I know."
"—cock-gargling, trauma-thieving, dickhead of a man!"
"Listen, I didn't mean to steal your closure."
"You killed the man who destroyed my life with a fucking sexbot?!"
"She had a very convincing skillset! Also, in my defense, I was extremely high on neuro-poppers and ego."
She stood. Pacing.
"I spent three years building that revenge arc, Kaiser!"
"I know, I know. I robbed you of your Shakespearean ending. My bad."
"Three. Fucking. Years."
"...I mean, would it help if I let you stab me?"
She turned slowly.
"In the dick."
"Okay, maybe not there."
[HAWK – POV]
I wanted to hit him.
I wanted to break his ribs with a smile and then shove him off this rooftop and maybe catch him on the way down just to do it again.
But I didn't.
Because the bastard looked genuinely sorry.
And maybe—just maybe—I saw the outline of something else.
Not guilt.
Not pity.
Something worse.
Recognition.
He'd lost something too. Buried it under jokes and sex and bullet wounds, but it was there.
And for the first time, I didn't feel angry.
I just felt tired.
[KAISER – POV]
I walked up behind her.
"You know what this means, right?"
"That I hate you more than I thought possible?"
I smiled softly.
"That we're both broken in the same direction."
Pause.
She looked at me, the wind catching her hair, the Oracle-Eye dimming again.
"We don't get closure," I said. "We get blood. We get rage. And if we're lucky, we get to aim it at someone worse than the last guy."
"You think there's worse than Veyne?"
"Oh yeah. And I've got names. Coordinates. Backup plans."
Pause.
"And this time... I'm not doing it alone."
[HAWK – POV]
"How do you control all your powers and keep yourself sane?"
I asked it like I was asking the weather why it hadn't killed me yet — flat, but loaded.
We were still leaning on the rooftop rail, Scarpoint's broken skyline twitching in the distance. Kaiser had just thrown out that big dramatic "not doing it alone" bit, and I wasn't about to let him get away without spilling at least one trade secret.
He cocked his head at me, that grin trying to be charming and smug at the same time. "Trade secret."
"Say 'trade secret' one more time and I'll break your teeth in alphabetical order."
He laughed low. "Fine. It's not just raw talent, Hawk. I've got some… aftermarket parts."
I frowned. "You're telling me you're modded?"
He tugged his collar aside, showing faint lines under the skin — a geometric pattern glowing dimly with each heartbeat. "Governor system. Neural dampeners. Subdermal lattice. I built it all myself."
"Built it?"
"Hijacked half, designed the rest," he said with the casual air of someone explaining how they'd stolen a sandwich. "Keeps me from frying my brain when I'm running five or six traits at once."
I squinted at him. "So basically, you're a smug cyborg."
"Hot smug cyborg," he corrected.
I snorted. "More like a kitchen appliance with delusions of grandeur."
He grinned wider but didn't push it. Just kept watching me — not like prey, not like an opponent, but like someone running numbers in his head.
[KAISER – POV]
She didn't realize how much she gives away when she's still.
Most Apex fighters broadcast everything in their stance, their breathing. Hawk… not so much. Stillness was her resting state. But the Oracle-Eye flickered in micro-patterns, her weight shifted ever so slightly over her left foot, and her right hand never strayed far from her sidearm. Even here, in my space, she kept herself coiled.
I catalogued every detail without meaning to. Old habits. The way her scars pulled along her jaw when she smirked. How the new tear in her coat hadn't been patched yet — not carelessness, just preference. The faint buzz in the air whenever she was deciding whether to mock me or stab me.
She noticed me staring. "What?"
"Just thinking."
"About?"
"How many people have lived long enough to see you bored."
She rolled her eyes. "You gonna keep studying me or feed me?"
[HAWK – POV]
Inside Casa Kaiser, boredom hit fast. He had that sterile, weapon-showroom aesthetic that screams I've killed too many people to decorate normally.
While he busied himself with whatever smug tech-wizard thing he was doing on a console, I started poking around.
Glass cases lined one wall — severed Apex trait cores, weird knives, gadgets whose only instruction manual was "don't point at face." I picked up something that looked like a cross between a dart gun and a tuning fork.
"Careful," Kaiser called without looking. "That one induces seizures in a five-meter radius."
I put it down. Slowly.
Then I saw it — a holographic bounty board flickering above his desk. Names, faces, payouts. And right there, big and smug as the man himself: KAISER — DEAD OR ALIVE — 750,000 CRIMSON MARKS.
I tilted my head. "This bounty still active?"
He finally looked up, smirk curling. "Why, thinking of cashing in?"
"Tempted," I said. "Could buy myself a nice island. Somewhere you're not invited."
"Wouldn't last a week without me."
"Wouldn't have to if I had the money," I shot back.
[KAISER – POV]
She lingered on my bounty longer than necessary. Not greed — she was running the odds in her head. Testing. It made me grin.
"Seven hundred and fifty K, huh?" she said, leaning back in my chair like she owned it. "That's a lot of zeros for someone who eats nutrient bars and sleeps next to a skull named Larry."
"Jealous of my lifestyle?"
"In my nightmares."
We ended up raiding my pathetic excuse for a kitchen — nutrient bars, freeze-dried meat, and one dented can of something labeled "soup" in four different dead languages.
[HAWK – POV]
We sat on the edge of his workbench, eating in silence broken only by the occasional sarcastic chew.
"This tastes like regret," I said, holding up half a nutrient bar.
"That's the vanilla flavor," he replied.
"You're a war criminal to taste buds everywhere."
"Noted," he said, taking another bite.
For a moment, the chaos outside didn't matter. It was just two Apexes eating garbage food in a room full of bad ideas.
[KAISER – POV]
The console pinged. Sharp. Urgent.
Both of us looked over as the holo snapped alive.
WARNING: KINGPIN ******** — PRIORITY NOTIFICATION.
No details. No message. Just the name pulsing red in the dark.
We exchanged a look.
And the boredom was gone.
END OF CHAPTER 3