He constant pummel of snow and wind isn't something anyone wants to feel all the time, but when the world's gone to shit from some alien sort of perma-frost-pocalypse, it becomes your only company.

Kaiser knows that- he's had naught but the howling Blizzard to listen to since this shit storm started. Or, more accurately, since that fucking crystal thing stabbed him in the shoulder. His left shoulder blade is cold as all hell now - and he keeps getting stupid incoherent mumbles in his head when he gets too close to the mutant fuckers that lurk around now. Formerly human, but succumbed to the cold.

Honestly, Kaiser doesn't understand how he hasn't turned into one of the walking icepops like the rest of them. Maybe it's because he got it out fast enough, or maybe he's just too stubborn. Either way, it pisses him off.

The gas station he turned into a makeshift base has been holding up well, with a gas stove set up, sleeping bag, and workshops for his gear. But Kaiser's brief respite from all the thoughts plaguing him is disrupted by audible footsteps- too steady for one of those icicle fuckers.

His gun is already out- just as the wind decides to blow open the front door by force.

"Hands where I can fuckin' see em. Don't wanna waste a bullet on ya."