[KAISER – POV]
The air was thick with the metallic tang of recent tinkering, mixed with the faint, lingering scent of sweat and desperation from moments that still echoed in my mind— Hawk sat across from me at Jerry's cluttered workstation, her leather jacket zipped tight against the chill that seemed to seep from the walls, her Oracle-Eye whirring softly as it scanned the room for threats that weren't there. Jerry lounged in his corner, his tin-aug eyes glinting under the low-hanging bulbs, a flask of whiskey in one hand and a half-assembled gadget in the other. He knew what was coming. Clara's preliminary sync pulsed in the back of my mind like a second pulse, analytical and ever-present, ready to dissect every word.
Four days. That's all it's been since Hawk stormed into my life like a virus in a secure network, exposing flaws I'd hidden even from myself. The revelations had nearly broken us, but here we were, piecing together something new from the fragments. If this alliance was to hold, if we were to stand a chance against the shadows that had haunted me for years, she needed the full truth. No more fragments, no more veiled hints. Starting from the ashes of what came after my sister's death—a loss that had carved me hollow, left me wandering the zones like a ghost in search of purpose.
"After my sister was gone," I began, my voice low and rough, like gravel underfoot in a forgotten alley, "I was nothing. Tyler Wayland died that day, even if his body kept moving. The zones swallowed me whole—endless nights in dive bars, picking fights with thugs twice my size just to feel something, anything, besides the void. I scraped by on odd jobs, smuggling contraband through the border wastes, dodging corporate patrols and zone enforcers. But it was all mechanical, like I was running on autopilot, waiting for the engine to fail."
The hologram flickered to life at my command, projecting a younger version of myself—messy hair, hollow eyes, a pistol at my hip that had seen more use in bar brawls than real combat. The image was pulled from old surveillance footage Clara had archived, a snapshot of the man I used to be before the fire forged me into something harder.
Jerry nodded from his corner, his aug eyes dimming slightly in remembrance. "You were a mess back then, kid. Stumbled into my shop one night, bleeding from a gut wound after some back-alley deal went south. I patched you up, and you paid me with stories instead of credits. That's when you first mentioned the dream—the idea of changing the zones, making them better. But you were too broken to act on it."
i smiled faintly "and then what?" hawk asks.
"A bar fight in the Industrial Zone," I replied, the memory sharpening like a blade being honed. "I was three drinks deep in some hole called the Rusty Cog, picking a fight with a group of factory enforcers who'd been roughing up workers. They were augmented brutes, the kind with pistons for arms and no mercy in their programming. I took down two before the third pinned me against the bar, his mechanical fist raised to crush my skull."
The hologram shifted, recreating the scene from fragmented security feeds Clara had pieced together— the dingy bar with its rusted metal counters, flickering neon signs advertising cheap synth-beer, the crowd of patrons cheering or fleeing as the brawl escalated. There I was, younger, wilder, my fists bloody but my eyes burning with that same unquenchable rage.
"That's when Kane stepped in," I continued. "He came out of nowhere—a mountain of a man, broader than any augment I'd seen, with skin like forged steel and eyes that promised violence. He grabbed the enforcer's fist mid-swing, crushed the mechanical arm like it was tin foil, and tossed the guy through the bar's window like yesterday's trash. The other enforcers turned on him, but Kane just laughed—a deep, rumbling sound that shook the room—and waded in like he was born for it."
Jerry chuckled softly. "Kane always did have a flair for dramatic entrances. Guy could turn a bar fight into a legend."
The hologram captured it perfectly—Kane's massive frame absorbing punches that would have felled lesser men, his own strikes landing with the force of sledgehammers, breaking bones and sending bodies flying. But it wasn't just brute strength; there was a grace to his violence, a calculated efficiency that spoke of training beyond street brawls.
"Kane," he said simply. "Buy you a drink? Looks like you could use one."
That drink turned into hours of conversation in the ruined tavern, the owner too intimidated to kick us out. Kane told me his story—son of a factory worker crushed by corporate machinery when safety measures were cut to boost profits. He'd been fighting the system ever since, his natural resilience making him a legend in the underground rings.
I shared pieces of my own pain, the loss that had hollowed me out, and for the first time in months, I felt seen. Not pitied, but understood. "We could use someone like you," Kane said as the night wore on. "Got a friend who thinks the same way you do—about changing things, making the strong accountable."
The hologram transitioned to that first meeting—three young men in a dusty warehouse filled with forgotten books and rusted tech, the air thick with the scent of decay and possibility. Ryzen paced like a caged predator, his movements fluid and precise, while Kane stood like an immovable pillar, and I—Tyler Wayland then—hovered in the shadows, wary but intrigued.
"Ryzen had his own demons," I said, the words carrying the weight of shared history. "Grew up in the outer territories, in a settlement wiped out by raiders backed by corporate interests. Lost his entire family—parents, siblings, everyone. The trauma awakened something in him, a power he called Nameless. He could become anyone, take on their appearance, their mannerisms, even access fragments of their memories and abilities. But it came at a cost—every shift eroded a piece of who he was, made him question his own identity."
Jerry interjected, his voice gruff but respectful. "Ryzen was always the thinker. Saw the big picture when the rest of us were just trying to survive the day. But that power... it changed him, even early on."
"We became the Trinity," I continued, the hologram showing snapshots of our early days—training sessions in abandoned factories, where Kane taught us hand-to-hand combat that could break bones, Ryzen shared techniques for infiltration and deception using his ability, and I honed my skills in stealth and marksmanship. "For three years, we were inseparable. We took on the corps, dismantled criminal networks, struck at the heart of the corruption that had taken so much from each of us. We had this dream—a new order where power served the people, where the strong protected the weak instead of exploiting them. We were going to tear down the old systems and build something better from the ruins."
The hologram played scenes of our triumphs—corporate boardrooms turned to chaos as Ryzen impersonated executives to sow discord from within, Kane smashing through security forces like a human battering ram, me slipping through the shadows to plant explosives or extract key targets. We were legends in the making, whispered about in the undercity as the force that could actually change things.
"But dreams die," I said, my voice turning bitter as the hologram darkened. "It started with small things—Ryzen using his power more frequently, staying in other identities longer than necessary. He'd come back from missions... different, like pieces of the people he became were sticking to him. Kane noticed it too, but we trusted him. Brothers, right?"
Hawk's hand found mine across the table, a silent gesture of support. "What was the breaking point?"
The breaking point came with the Valmont job. Valmont was the original kingpin, the prototype of power in the zones—the only one with the ability to share powers, distributing fragments of his strength to his lieutenants, creating a web of loyalty bound by gifted abilities. His spire was a fortress of steel and glass rising from the heart of what would later become the central zone, its upper floors glowing with opulent lights while the lower levels teemed with armed guards and automated defenses.
The mission was straightforward: infiltrate, assassinate, destabilize his hold. We went in as always—Ryzen shifting into a lieutenant's form to get us inside, Kane ready to breach, me in the shadows. The outer defenses fell easily, but as we pushed deeper, Ryzen began acting strange. He'd vanish for minutes at a time, return with information too perfect, too clean.
We reached Valmont's throne room after a brutal hour of fighting—corridors slick with blood, guards' bodies littering the path. Valmont was there, behind his desk, his form radiating power. He begged, offered everything. But Ryzen's eyes had gone cold. He shot Valmont dead, then turned to us with a smile that wasn't his own.
"This will be the new order," he said, "just not in the way we dreamed of, Tyler."
The projection showed Ryzen activating his Nameless ability on a scale we'd never seen—his form shifting not just to mimic Valmont, but to absorb him completely, drawing in the kingpin's essence, his connections, his very power. "That was the moment we learned the true extent of Nameless. He didn't just become Valmont—he inherited everything, including the ability to share powers with others. Within minutes, he began selecting individuals crazy, ambitious underlings—and granting them enhanced abilities, binding them to his will."
Hawk's breath caught. "He created the kingpins like that? "
"Fifteen of them," I said grimly. "Each one empowered with a fragment of his Nameless ability, twisted to fit their roles—strength for some, manipulation for others, destruction for the rest. They became extensions of his vision, rulers of their zones but puppets in his grand design. The system we know today—the fractured territories, the constant warfare, the balance of power that keeps anyone from rising too high—it's all his creation, a web designed to maintain his dominance while the world tears itself apart."
The hologram expanded, showing the birth of the 15 kingpins—figures emerging from the spire's ruins, each glowing with newfound power, spreading out to claim their territories under Ryzen's invisible guidance.
Kane realized first. "What have you done?" he roared, charging forward.
The fight was apocalyptic. The new kingpins turned on us, their abilities a deadly symphony. Kane fought like a demon, but as a energy blast nearly killed him, something awoke—the unbeatable power. His body ignited, becoming nuclear, radiating cataclysmic energy that leveled the room, vaporizing enemies and shattering the spire's foundations.
In the explosion, I felt something stir in me too—the trait-stealing ability, absorbing fragments of the chaos around me. But there was more, a hidden trait buried deep, " i still don't know how to use it". The building collapsed, burying us in rubble. Ryzen walked away, his new empire born from our betrayal.
Jerry's expression grew distant, his aug eyes focusing on the hologram as if reliving the moment. "Scourge's servant found Kane in the rubble. Pulled him out, saw the value in his 'unbeatable' power, and made him an offer. Kane survived, but he was changed—hardened into something even more unbreakable, serving Scourge as his champion."
"And you?" Hawk asked, her voice soft with understanding. "Left for dead in the ruins."
"Left for dead," I echoed, the words tasting like ash. "Buried under tons of concrete and steel, my body broken in more ways than I could count, my spirit shattered beyond repair. I lay there in the darkness, feeling life ebb away, thinking about how everything we'd built had crumbled in a single night of betrayal. That's when I heard footsteps in the rubble. Thought it was Ryzen, coming to finish what he'd started, or maybe one of his new toys cleaning up loose ends."
Jerry stood up slowly, his mechanical limbs whirring softly as he approached. His tin-aug eyes were dim, almost watery, and when he placed a hand on my shoulder, tapping it gently in a rhythm that spoke of old camaraderie, his voice was thick with emotion. "But it wasn't Ryzen or his puppets. It was me."
The hologram shifted to show Jerry as he'd been back then—younger, less augmented, his face streaked with dust and determination as he dug through the debris with bare hands and improvised tools. "I'd been monitoring the spire from afar, investigating corporate ties to Valmont's operation. When the explosion lit up the night, I came running. Found you barely breathing, more blood than man, but still clinging to life like the stubborn fool you've always been."
Hawk's eyes widened slightly. "You saved him."
"Dragged him out of that hellhole," Jerry confirmed, his tapping on my shoulder growing more insistent, like he was trying to ground himself in the present. "Got him to my underground workshop, patched him up with every piece of tech I had. Stayed by his side for weeks, fighting off infections, rebuilding bones with experimental augments. But it wasn't just his body that was broken—his spirit was in pieces. For months, he was like a ghost, barely eating, barely speaking, just staring at the walls like he was waiting for death to claim what it had missed."
"What turned it around?" Hawk asked, her hand finding mine across the table, squeezing gently.
Jerry's voice cracked slightly, his aug eyes glistening in a way that defied their mechanical nature. "I told him the truth about Ryzen's betrayal—how he'd not only killed Valmont but used his Nameless power to create the 15 kingpins, sharing fragments of his ability to grant them powers, binding them to his new order. And in that moment, I saw the spark return to his eyes. That's when I knew Ryzen had made the most foolish mistake of his existence."
He tapped my shoulder one last time, harder now, almost like a punctuation mark to his words. "He thought leaving tyler for dead would end a threat, but instead, it was the trigger he needed. All that laziness from before, all that broken heart from the losses—he channeled it into something fierce, something unstoppable. That's what fuels my friend here—not just revenge, but a burning need to fix what was broken, to build the world we all dreamed of before Ryzen twisted it."
Thats when i promised myself after that event not even gods could stop me from doing what i want. " i changed my name to kaiser" . Jerry laughing and replying "hahaha how many fools has died after that ! not even the nameless king can beat my friend now"
Hawk turned to me, her voice soft but probing. "Will Kane still help you? After all this time, after the betrayal, after Scourge took him in—does he even remember the old bonds?"
I met her gaze, the resolve hardening like steel in a forge. "He will. I wouldn't give him any other choice. I have to meet Scourge, collect the reward that's been owed since that night—debts of blood and power that bind us all. Kane's part of that. Whether he likes it or not, he'll stand with us when the time comes."
Everyone was silent. Clara pinging me to say what's on my head.
I smirked after , feeling the old fire ignite in my chest, the same fire that had carried me through years of planning and survival. "Timing is everything," I said, my voice carrying a edge of dark humor. "And me? I'm going to show Ryzen exactly how a Nameless King dies—along with his entire empire."
"Clara, pull up all six specialist profiles in the hologram. It's time we started assembling the storm that's going to end this."
END OF CHAPTER