[HAWK – POV]
Thirty rifles snap into position, their plasma barrels humming with that low, deadly glow that makes the air taste like burnt metal, all pointed right at our naked bodies like we're the main course in a slaughterhouse feast. The mercs have us completely surrounded in this dingy stall, their bone-plated armor clanking with every shift, red cross insignias pulsing on their chests like infected heartbeats. Sweat's still trickling down my skin from the interrupted fuck, my thighs sticky and my pulse racing—Overdrive already stirring in my veins, waiting for the first bolt to turn their fire into my fuel. Kaiser's next to me, calm as if this is just another bad date, but I can feel the tension coiling in him too. The lead merc—a bulky asshole with a cyber-arm that whirs like a malfunctioning sex toy and a face scarred up like bad road—jams his rifle barrel toward my chest, close enough I can feel the heat radiating off it. "Last chance, you bare-assed bitch. Cough up the Shadow Weaver core, or we turn this place into a light show with your guts as the fireworks. Scourge wants it back—says to bring you in breathing if you cooperate, but he didn't say we couldn't make you bleed first." I bare my teeth in a feral grin, the explicit rush from the half-fuck mixing with fight-lust, making my blood sing. "Make me bleed? You limp-pricked idiots wouldn't know how to handle a real woman even if I drew you a map. Fire away—I'll dance through your shots and shove that cyber-arm so far up your ass you'll be jacking off with your elbow." Murmurs start low among the mercs, a ripple of confusion and dark amusement: "She's talking shit with her tits out…" "Core's worth a fortune—Scourge'll promote whoever grabs it…" A few chuckle nervously, but most grip their rifles tighter, eyes darting—half look ready to blast us for fun, half hesitant, whispering about orders to keep us alive for questioning. Kaiser lets out a low, mocking laugh beside me. "Thirty guns on two naked targets? You boys must be real insecure about something downstairs. How about you lower 'em before this gets embarrassing for you?" The leader's face twists in rage, his cyber-arm charging with a high-pitched whine that sets my nerves on edge. "Embarrassing? You're the ones fucking in a stall like gutter rats. Open fire—make it hurt!" The murmurs turn sharp and chaotic: "Boss said hurt 'em…" "Scourge wants 'em alive, but fuck it…" Triggers start to squeeze, plasma coils screaming as the first bolts build to launch.
[KAISER – POV]
The mercs are a mess of confusion—thirty rifles wavering slightly as they process the leader's order, murmurs buzzing with split loyalties: "Alive or dead?" "Core first—don't damage it…" Some fingers hesitate on triggers, eyes flicking between us and the boss, calculating if blasting us violates Scourge's bigger plan. It's the opening I need. Chrono-Collapse activates in a seamless skip, placing me right behind the leader—my arm snakes around his throat, a precise twist, and snap—his neck breaks with a sharp, echoing crack, body going limp and hitting the floor like discarded scrap.
The remaining twenty-nine whirl in a frenzy, rifles swinging up wildly, their faces a mix of shock and fury. Murmurs erupt instantly, a wave of disoriented chatter: "He just… snapped the boss from thin air…" "Didn't see shit—how?" "Fuck, who's in charge now?" "Scourge'll kill us if we screw this…" Confusion spreads like a virus—some lower their weapons a fraction, unsure, while others aim shakier, whispering about protocol: "Orders were to capture…" "But he killed the leader—light 'em up!"
I give my balls a quick scratch—the persistent itch from the sweat cutting through the tension—and step casually over the corpse, flashing a grin. "Leadership vacancy open. Any takers, or you all gonna stand there murmuring like confused virgins?" Hawk's grin is all teeth, her body tensing for the rush. "Let's give these murmuring pussies a show they won't forget." Rifles stabilize amid the disorder, the mercs glancing at each other, murmurs shifting to angry resolve: "Avenge the boss—fuck orders!" "Grab that core off his corpse!" Triggers pull, plasma starting to spit in erratic bursts.
[HAWK – POV]
The mercs shake off their confusion, rifles unleashing the first wave of plasma bolts that scorch the air and walls around us, blue streaks hissing like vengeful snakes.
Murmurs cut through the chaos: "Boss down—make 'em pay!" "Core's in his coat—don't hit it!" I'm coiled to move, but then a menacing trait envelops the area—a vast, intangible power that forces every individual to their knees.
The aura strikes with overwhelming might, compelling the mercs to drop, their bodies succumbing to the pressurization, armor groaning as they hit the ground on all fours. Gasps and screams mix with confused murmurs: "What… can't stand…" "Dropping to knees… pressurized…" "All of us kneeling… this menacing trait…"
I slam to a knee myself, the pressure crushing my chest like a vice clamped on my ribs—feels like my organs are being pulped slow, Oracle-Eye glitching from the strain. "This… rip… fuck, it's squeezing the life out…" Murmurs from the mercs turn panicked: "Pressurized… breaking me…" "Kneeling… can't rise…" "Everyone's down— what is this?"
Kaiser starts walking forward, cutting through the aura like it's nothing—his steps steady, air warping around him but not slowing him.Says its this bastard's trait "Unbeatable"
The stall wall tears apart in a shower of metal and dust, and Kane strides in—menacing presence hitting like a shockwave, his black diamond armor a gleaming fortress of death, facets reflecting the chaos in distorted mirrors that make the destruction look even more surreal. Shoulder launchers protrude like predatory spines, loaded with racks of missiles that hum with restrained fury, tips glowing faint red. His big energized axe is slung across his back, the blade a massive slab veined with crackling plasma energy that pulses blue and white, like captive lightning, the hilt wrapped in conductive wiring for syncing with traits and enhancing swings.
Armor vents hiss out superheated steam from internal cooling systems, adaptive plates shifting fluidly to absorb potential impacts, embedded shield generators flickering with blue energy barriers that activate on demand, thrusters on his boots and forearms primed for sudden explosive mobility, and rune-etched gauntlets that crackle with force fields for punching through walls or foes. A cloak of swirling shadows billows behind him, his eyes burning with sharp, calculating fire—Scourge's warlord, one of the most feared figures on this planet, a being whose name alone sends shivers through hardened killers, known for single-handedly dismantling armies and leaving zones in ruins, his reputation a shadow that precedes him like death itself.
The aura intensifies with his arrival, everyone buckling harder—mercs already on knees pressing their faces to the floor, others who were kneeling now fully fallen, bodies twitching under the relentless pressure, murmurs choking out: "Kane… the Unbeaten…" "Falling flat… pressurized worse…" "Everyone's crushed… can't even kneel properly anymore…"
Kaiser reaches him, voice light. "Your entrance is as over-the-top as always. What's the occasion?" Kane smirks back. "Still hasty as ever, huh, K? Snapping necks with your cock swinging free? That's a bold way to greet old friends." "Look who's talkin'. You drop in with your aura turning the place into a junkyard—could've called ahead."
Kane's rumble carries a mix of amusement and edge. "Called? Where's the fun in that? Besides, Scourge has been keeping tabs on the waves you're making, K. Your name's circulating among the Kingpins these days—they're all talking about this trait-thief who's stacking abilities and leaving trails of disrupted zones in his wake. Mirror Widow's been discussing you in her Veilstrand councils, calling you a "anomaly" that's throwing off her illusion webs, sharing intel on how your thefts are creating ripples in her reality games. Baron Varn's rot priests in Ashdown are swapping stories about you as a 'thief,' noting how your grabs are altering their nuclear ceremonies, passing around reports to track your patterns. Even the Nameless King in The Maw's mentioning you in his war briefs, labeling you a ' future threat' that's shifting the balance in his endless conflicts, with memos circulating to monitor your moves. Scourge? He's been listening—sees value in that kind of disruption. Wants you alive, part of the fold, rewarded with real power. That Shadow Weaver core Nulljaw swiped from Killmonger before you ended him? Hand it over, come meet the boss. He'll set you up with command, resources—the works. No death warrant, just an open door." I pull the core from my coat, weighing it in my hand before tossing it over. "Kingpins chatting about me? Sounds like free advertising. Core's yours to hold—tell Scourge I'll be by to pick it up later. Got some errands that can't wait." Kane catches it smoothly, tucking it away, then his gaze shifts to Hawk, still kneeling under the aura's weight. "You got a cute pet there, K. I heard she's a wildcard—stacking traits, tearing through crews like they're paper targets." "So am I." Kane's grin turns broader, his tone dipping into that intense, probing rumble. "You are the wildest crazy fucker on this planet, K. Beat me—after all this back-and-forth and shared bullshit from the old days, why the hell can't I just kill you and call it a wrap on our little reunion?"
The words hang, stares locking across the stall—mercs on their knees or fallen staring with wide, strained eyes, the intensity thick enough to cut, murmurs whispering through the pressure: "Kane's asking that…?" "Intense— like he's torn…" "Why not just end the thief…?" Everyone's frozen, the aura amplifying the moment, waiting for the response. "You're my bro, remember? Hela—I hooked you up with her back when we were scraping by in the ruins." Kane throws his head back, his laugh exploding raw and explicit, echoing off the ruined walls. "Hela? That eager little slut—she's dead, K. Couldn't handle my cock. Fucked her so hard and deep she broke right in the middle of it, heart bursting from the relentless pounding." The murmurs from the mercs spike in utter confusion, voices strained under the aura: "Talking about dead hookups now…?" "Kane's laughing like it's a joke—what the fuck is this?" "Bros? Scourge must know about this weird shit…"
[HAWK – POV]
The aura keeps hammering—I'm stuck kneeling, every inch of me pressurized like I'm being slowly crushed in a junkyard compactor, while the mercs around me are either kneeling with their faces grinding into the floor or fully fallen, bodies spasming under the weight, murmurs coming out in choked gasps: "Can't… lift my head…" "Falling further… pressurized to nothing…" "Everyone's flattened… this is hell…" Kaiser's over there matching it all, walking like the aura's just a stiff breeze, trading lines with this warlord as if they're reminiscing over beers. What kind of bigshot is this guy actually? Name circulating among Kingpins like some hot topic, handing over mythic cores without a fight—fucker's connected in ways that make my gut twist. Kane's setup is a nightmare straight out of a bad dream. He tucks the core away, still chuckling from the Hela story, but his eyes carry that sharp, scheming glint, like he's always playing angles.
Kane claps Kaiser's shoulder, the gauntlet clanging loud. "Bro ties run deep, K. Scourge'll keep the core safe—don't take too long swinging by to claim the reward. Keep those Kingpins discussing you; the circulation's creating opportunities we can use." Kaiser nods. "Opportunities I'll chase my way." Kane turns to go, but pauses with a witty, sidelong look. "Still plotting against the Nameless King, K?" Kaiser lets out a deep laugh. "Wouldn't you like to know." My Oracle-Eye flares —that smile after the laugh feels off, edges glinting with something deceptive, like concealed blades ready to strike.
The aura finally eases as Kane vanishes through the ruined wall, the mercs gasping and stirring, their murmurs a jumble of confusion: "He just… left them alive?" "Bros with the warlord— what does that mean for us?" "Scourge wants the thief rewarded… this is messed up…"
Kaiser lets out a sharp tap on his datapad, and his bike comes roaring into the stall from outside— a futuristic beast of Red alloy and humming thrusters, sleek lines cutting through the debris, with a fierce dragon image etched in glowing red along the frame, flames seeming to dance as the engine revs. "Climb on," he says, swinging a leg over. "Black market's our next stop—need gear for those errands."
I haul myself up, still shaky from the aura, arms locking around his waist as I press against his back. "That smile of yours… it's hiding something sharp." He revs the engine hard, the dragon image flaring brighter. "Nothing worth worrying about, love Let's roll." We blast out of the stall toward the black market site
End of chapter