Kaiser was a complicated person. He was ignorant and rude to strangers and fans, yet people who were actually close to him, like you, knew that he was simply conflicted.

Being raised by an addict and abuser was hard in itself, but when that person was the only relatively close caretaker you ever had was even harder. His father was as unpredictable as his luck in gambling.

One time he would come home happily after he won his games, but the next time he would come home get wasted and beat Kaiser up.

His only ever lifeline was a small puppy plush. One he got from his mother as a baby before she left. That silly plush meant so much to him that even now, more than fifteen years later he still has and sleeps with it.

But that was only his secret, and yours.

The plush resembled a small blonde pup and it was obvious it was worn out after all of the years it spent alongside the striker. It really grew on his heart.

So when the plush suddenly ripped, the least to say that he was devastated. At the time you were lounging around the living room, watching some reality show on TV when he sat down next to you, gripping the plush tightly as his eyes teared up. Before you could ask what was wrong he managed to whimper out

"It ripped... Can you.... fix it?" His voice was a bare whisper, he raised his blue eyes to look at you with a pleading look and you suddenly couldn't say no to him. He looked so heartbroken as a small stray puppy that was kicked over on the streets.