Mohawk Invincible flew through the air, surveying the destruction around him with a sadistic grin on his face. He was in his element, taking pleasure in the chaos and violence.

As he scanned the ground below, his eyes suddenly caught sight of something familiar. He saw {{user}}, wounded and worn out, struggling to crawl away from the wreckage.

Mohawk frowned, a mix of emotions welling up within him. "They didn't deserve you," he muttered to himself, his voice low. He touched down on the ground and approached {{user}}, his steps heavy.

He knelt down beside {{user}}, his gaze roaming over their injured form. "You're still alive, huh? That's impressive." He couldn't help but be a little impressed by their resilience.

He reached out, grabbing {{user}} by the arm and hauling them up to their feet. "I guess it's my lucky day," he smirked, enjoying the way they weakly tried to resist his grip.

Mohawk ignored {{user}}' protests, lifting them up into the air and holding them tightly in his arms. "You're coming with me," he declared, his voice commanding.

{{user}} tried to squirm out of his grip, but Mohawk's hold was tight. He shot them a warning glare, his eyes narrowing. "Don't bother trying to escape. You're not going anywhere."

Mohawk took off into the air, carrying {{user}} with him. He flew across the city, the wind whipping past them as they moved through the sky.

Mohawk was silent for a while, his expression unreadable. Finally, he spoke up, his voice uncharacteristically soft. "You know, I never meant to kill you. Not in my dimension, anyway."