Chapter Text
Octane doesn’t know his “real” name. No one does. So he calls him Caustic, because that’s who he is, now.
Alexander is dead, gone, abandoned. Alexander is a stolen corpse left behind on Gaea. A dropped case. A fugitive put to rest.
Now, he is the sum of his parts sans two fingers. Now, he is free.
Caustic calls him Octavio, though. Never shortened, not ever.
Octane has been his handle since his first haphazard stunt put on a screen. He’d built a following around it until he was famous for chasing danger as he followed the eager thrum in his chest that always asked what next?
Then the accident happened, robbing him of his limbs but not from his future. Octane became a Legend, but Caustic knows that beneath his gear and stim and laugh and skin that it’s just another vehicle to chase an all new high.
He also knows, though, that he’s a better one.
It’s why he has the perfect test subject, a willing one who falls head over heel to ask for an infusion of danger and adrenaline.
Octane lets him think that, anyway, so long as he can ask for yet another ride on the respawn highway.