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MI Original No More Heroes
#1
The Incredible, Invincible Unstoppable-Man 

The Incredible Unstoppable-Man!
The hero to everyone!
He fights for Justice
And no evil has ever won!
Bullets don’t hurt! He’s mighty and tall!
Villains always rise, but he will never fall!
Stronger than quick!
Faster than strong!
Thinker than think!
This is the Unstoppable Song!
The Unbreakable Unstoppable-Man!

The city of San Bernardino had awoken as the shining sun rose in the morning. It was a beautiful morning. There wasn’t a single cloud to block the blue, blistering blue over the city. As I stand on top of the San Bernardino Justice Center, I checked the throughout the city to check on the citizens. As usual, the people are doing their routine when the morning strikes at them. For example, on Madison Street North, there was a married couple that just finished getting ready for work, after securing their children and have them ready for their school in the morning. Nothing odd about this. I checked onto another street, Del Rosa, to see if there was anything unusual; nothing out of the ordinary, just the same old man doing his daily jog with his Golden Retriever around Del Rosa, a neighborhood in this city. It looks like today is going to be a good day without any problems. I pumped out my chest because today was the day, the day that honor my efforts and celebrating the 5th year of being the hero of this city. I deserved this. I earned this. Crimes were out of control before I took the mantle of becoming the hero of this city—but I decided to take the responsibility of cleaning out these punks in the streets. My efforts had moved the people of San Bernardino and gave me a name—Unstoppable-Man. They sought the sheer differences of my strength than an ordinary man, the gap between a human and a god. Soon, they began to foam at the mouth if I so much appeared in a scene to stop a crisis. Is this the life of a hero? Then it’s a pretty damn good one if I may say.

“Help!” someone cried out for help—although, for humans, it sound like a faint if they were so much 30 feet away, to the person such as I, it’s was an earshot away. I turned my sight to the direction of the cry for help occurred and saw with my sights. There was a man, dressed in all black, attacking several school-children and tried to grab their possessions. I smile—it was supposed to be a good day today, but crime will never rest. I took a stance: I bend downwards as my hips rise slowly above my shoulders, with my head and neck in line with the spine. I focused my eyes towards the direction I needed to go as the shoulders are just vertical above my hands, my feet on two positions for takeoff. Instantly, I pushed myself towards the direction, leaving high levels of wind pressure behind. I hear the cries of the children louder as I close the gap between us and in no time, I arrived.

“Hey, punk? You know that doing physical assault is against the law, right?” I said as I stood up, with the sun shining on the back to reflect my strong, stern position. 

Both the children and the punk didn’t have time to register the fact that I’d arrived. It's no problem; they would never understand the power that I have. It’s why I’m the hero, and they are just ordinary people in this world. I asked again. “Hey, you know you can’t be doing that, right?” The children were happy for my arrival when their small minds finally registered, but the punk was shaking in his boots as if he could not express what just happen. He pulled out a knife and pointed it at me in a threatening manner.

“L-look man! Don’t do anything stupid! Take one step, and I’ll slice this kid’s neck!” the punk grabbed the child with glasses, black hair and freckles with his arm around his throat. It amused me. Maybe this is the first time he’s doing this robbery thing? He should have known that such a hero, such as I, would be famous around these parts. Maybe I need to do more crime-fighting so the community would spread my image more? I thought for a moment and became lost in thought as the child begging and crying like a madman, and shouted for me, Unstoppable-Man, to save him.

“Ah” snapping back into reality. “Don’t worry; this will be over,” I said to the child. “Just stop that crying.” 

“Heh! Don’t act so damn cocky!” the punk said. “I’m going to cut this kid’s neck!” He looked at the child that he held in his arm, but his little eyes narrowed when the child was missing. “W-what…” He looked up to me, seeing the child safe and sound next to yours truly.

“That was quick. The time you were running your mouth, I already secured the child, took the possessions that you stole and alerted the cops. You ought to give up now, while you’re ahead. Otherwise, you might end up embarrassing yourself...” 

The punk did not like my comment. It enrages him—because he did not now. He was living in the world where he’s facing unfair strength. Can you blame him for having a shitty luck? He tried to me with all his might with the knife in hand and slashed at me. I decided not to move and tank the knife. On impact, it broke into two. You should have seen the terror in his eyes when the knife broke into tiny fragments. However, he did manage to leave a tear on my costume. That was quite disrespectful. I rose my hand in the air and slapped him across the face, sending him to a building to the right. How dare he ruined my costume? Even if I stood there, he should have known better the gap between our strengths. I turned around to the children. 

“Everything is alright. Go on ahead to school. The police should be arriving in a few seconds to take care of this.” I said with a smile. Their face lite up with happiness as they drown their appreciation on my bottomless glory. I looked at the time and realized that it was time. I jumped in the air and flew towards the direction of the City Hall in San Bernardino.

“What is that in the sky? Is it a bird? Is it a plane?! No! It’s the Incredible Unstoppable-Man!” The crowd of people bursts into cheers upon seeing my arrival in the town hall. It was a special day created for my honor for all the work I have done to dwindle crimes in the city of San Bernardino. 
As I turned my head around and saw all the faces of happiness, I could not help but smile in return. The people stared at my beautiful costume. It was a white outfit, accompanied by a blue cape. In the center of my chest, showcase a symbol of a “U” which represents my name. My black hair flowed as the winds soar from the north as I continued to stare at the eyes of the people. It was time to greet them. It was time to thank them. Before I began to open my mouth, a building across the hall burst into flames. People screamed as the raging fire spread. Although some people have called the Firefighters, they would not be able to make it in time. I need to take action. In an instant, I flew towards the inferno to enter the building to search for survivors. It did not affect me. My body is perfectly built to handle such high temperatures. As I looked around with my super senses, I saved multiple people from their deaths in the flames with no one getting harmed from the fire. As I save of the last survivors, the firefighters finally arrived on the scene to take care of the fire. As soon as I landed, a crowd of people swarmed around me like a pack of dogs waiting for their master to come home, a life of a hero.

Before they fired off a series of questions, I spoke first. “Please, I would love to answer all issues, but I have a wife and children to tend too. My time is much needed there than here. I hope you all understand.”

Every one of them stared at one another before cheering again. “Not only is Unstoppable-Man a hero of the people, but he's also a wonderful husband and father! Please, let us not waste any more of his precious time with his family!” The people backed away, so they allowed me to fly off without getting blown away. As I flew towards the sky, I went northeast to a suburban home about 30 minutes away from the city hall by car. It was such a long day. Fighting crime and saving lives takes a toll on a man. I just want to relax, eat a delicious meal and rest my head in the caress of my wife without worry. When I arrived at my home, I landed on the front door and wiped my feet off the floor mat. I can’t wait to be greeted by my beloved family.

Of course, this never happens. When I entered my home, my children were nowhere around. They seem too scattered away every time I arrived as if they are distancing themselves from me. Why? After all, I did for them. I provide them shelter. I provide them food. I offer them the best quality of life. No one would ever pick on them. Why would they do this to their own, heroic father? Shouldn’t I be greeted as if the King had arrived in his castle to rest his head? This feeling. It reminds me the feeling of when I was a child. The sense of being treated as nothing more than a commoner in society, but now, this should not happen since I worked so hard. Nevertheless, my stomach, riddled with hunger, calls for a delicious meal. I made my way to the kitchen and noticed that my dinner, wrapped in foil, is on the table, ready for service. Next to it was a tall glass of beer. This place a smile on my face to get rid of the thoughts of my children failing to greet me again. As I took a seat, I noticed my wife coming in the door. Looks like she just got off from work. I watch the time, and it was around 7 PM. Unusually late this kind of hour for my wife, but that did not matter right now. My wife came into the kitchen and saw me already seated. My wife is a stunning woman. Her rich, golden hair that always flows when the wind blows in their direction. Her eyes shine like a neutron star. Her lips were as soft as the feather pillow, which gives warmth of when you pressed yours upon it. 

“Ah, you’re home rather early. Well, eat up honey.” She finally spoke. Her tone was flat as if she was bothered even to see me here. 
What with that tone? Did something happen at work? I should ask after finishing my meal. As I pulled off the tinfoil from the dish, my eyes narrowed. I gritted my teeth, grinding it back and forth. The veins began to appear around my neck and both of my arms. What is this? That is the thought swirling in my head right now. Is this some joke? Tuna casserole? I worked my body to the bone, and I come home to an over cook, stinky fish? Is this the quality of food, which a hero should devour when hunger strikes him? My wife walked to the kitchen to wash her hands. My eyes darted towards her when she turned her body around, stating her blue eyes onto mines. She opened her mouth, the disdain in her voice.
“What’s wrong? Do not like the food I served you?” She spoke. 

Anger is not even to describe the state I had felt at that moment. I flew into a fiery rage as I stood up. My eyes became bloodshot red when those she uttered those words. I grabbed her left arm with and pulled her closer to me. I raised my right hand just a tip over her head and struck her in the face. It was a weak slap. I considered it a weak slap. Her body flung across the room like a rag doll. Her body slammed onto the countertop of the kitchen, next to the dishes. Plates fell on the floor, creating loud noises which alerted my children to come running down the steps. I slowly walked towards my wife and picked her up by the collar of her shirt with simply one finger. 

“What is this? Is this some joke?” I said in a rash tone. “Are you serious, this is the food I get after working incredibly hard all day? You think I risked my life to save all those people just from coming home to some disrespectful brats that will not greet me at the door and eat some subpar TV-like dinner?” I was shouting so much, spit fell from my mouth and rained down on her face. “I did not marry you to be treated like this. I married you because you should be treating me like a king!” 

She should be lucky. Many women would love to have me as her husband. They would love to have a hero prance them around. But she, she does not care. She thinks I’m wasting my time being a hero and calls it a useless hobby. She thinks because I do not make any money that I’m doing this solely for ego-stroking. I can tell that what she wanted to say to my face. Even though I shouted, she does not change. Sure, I slapped her around a couple of times before. Maybe a little more than that, and she would break down. Recently, she does not even change her expression. She just smiled, as if she was laughing at my manhood. I will show her. I raised my right arm in the air and formed my hand into a fist.

“Apologize for your foolish presentation you did today,” I demanded, but she did not give in. I pulled my right arm back. My children saw this and stormed into the kitchen to stop me. Why are they interfering? Shouldn’t they be on my side? In a brief moment, I did not think; I only swung my arm to push them back. I did not hold back my strength enough. One of my children took the swung and crashed through the wall in the family room. I turned my head to see the impression of what is my kid’s body on the wall. I got even angrier. I was furious. She’s making me do this! She always, somehow, managed to make mad! She's doing this on purpose! Why can’t this stupid woman make a single well deserved dinner for once!?  I drive my fist towards her emotionless face as hard as I could. The motion of my fiery fist flung to the other direction. I turned around and saw that my oldest child had pushed my punch away. The sheer friction from my fast caused the air to scatter, tearing everything in sight as if the air turned into wind blades. My eyes darted to the damage created from my angered fist. It left the bitter taste in my mouth and decided that I need to rest.

“I’m heading to bed. You will think about what you did and perhaps, just maybe ought to fix this problem that you started.” I headed to my room, where peace will be present. I laid my head on a pillow, to fill the dreams that I want to occur. I hope she takes my warning, next time; I won’t be so kind.” I closed my eyes. The next day, I was awoken and turned around to greet my wife, but she was gone. It was strange she knows that she’s supposed to be by my side at all times, so why isn’t she here? Maybe she got up early to make up for her mistakes, yet, I don’t hear a sound of her cooking nor the children getting ready for school. What is going on? My super senses did not picked up any voices in my room. My heart felt a sensation when I got dress and came down stairs and did not see anyone here. In the side of my eye as I walked around my house, looking for them, there was a letter. I picked it up and my eyes narrowed. 

“This is the end. I cannot continue to support you. We had been together for years, but you have changed overtime. You were not the person I thought you were, so I decided to take the children and leave. I know that you can easily find me with your senses, but I do not care. At least this moment of being away from you will bring ease to my children and my hearts. Goodbye.”

I crumbled the paper in my hands and gritted my teeth. My heart sank like a rock, but I did not cry. I chose not to cry, I cannot let this woman affect me. I am better than that, but this letter, why does she not see my actions is to boost our lives? I’m Unstoppable-Man, nothing can harm me, but this letter… this letter is trying to get to me mentality. Fine. Go. You will come back! You will come back! I’m the top of the world! Tears began to form, but I tried to save face. I am Unstoppable-Man.
[Image: 1eX7gWK.png]

"What dimension is this?"
"All of them."
"That's great, then we can live everywhere!"
"Everywhere you will die."
"Haha- what?"
"You, your family, everyone will die. Over and over. Mountains of broken bodies beneath the wheel."

Content: My Art | No More Heroes | Good Days | Kaiju Man | BoogaVerse
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#2
Enter Daiman

Remember to carry a jacket when going to an appointment—their air conditioner is always crank up higher than usual, makes the visit unbearable to sit through since it’s too damn cold. This place should definitely hire more people on the staff, rather than having a single clerk do all the paperwork or call in people for an interview. As I placed my hands over my arms to warm myself, on the left, there was a child that was eagerly pointing in my direction.

“Mommy!” The child shouted, grabbing her mother by the skirt and pointed to my direction. “Look at that man’s face! It looks weird! It’s like those monsters on television!”

It created a rather awkward situation for the mother, who tried to keep the child to be quiet and not point at other people. She slightly turned her head towards mines, seeing if I noticed anything. I suppose that she was trying to see if I felt any kind of offense, but I simply smile and look down towards my folder. She stood up and took the child away to another seat—away from me to avoid any kind of disturbance in the Highland City Administration building. This is normal. I do not expect anyone to look deeper than the initial appearance—I’ve come in terms of acceptance of who I am. Aside from the mother and child, there were other people in the building as well, about eight or nine people, but they did not pay any attention to what just transpired and kept to themselves. I suppose that they are nervous about their interview. Heck, I can feel myself sweating because I know I’m about to get call soon, and if I mess everything up, my chances will be shot down. Suddenly, the single clerk reaches over the microphone on her desk and announced the next person to be interviewed:

“Daiman. Please come in”

My heart felt like it sunk to the bottom of my foot. Clearing my throat, I stood up and brushes off my clothes, so I can appear to look professional. It was not anything fancy, a nice dress pants, black shoes and a long-sleeve shirt to show how serious I am, but at the same time, not trying to overdo it. Taking a deep breath, I headed into the office and saw a man who was sitting down, examining my resume on the marble-like table. There was a single chair about 2 feet away from it—I suppose that’s where I sit. The man looked up to my direction and smile, but it quickly vanished.

“Daiman, right? Have a seat and we shall get everything started.” He had a flat tone. No emotion at all.

“Yes, Sir.” I nodded and took a seat. Despite complaining about the cold, my body felt hot. I was sweating as if rain pour down on me. I tried to relax because I need to make sure my words are clear and understandable.

“Well, we have a lot of people coming in here for the past few weeks. Ever since the Unstoppable-Man scandal surrounding domestic abuse, everyone is trying to become a hero, the next Unstoppable-Man.” The man said. “It’s to be expected. People create these Gods, and when Gods fall, new ones come to fill in that position after all…” the man looks at my direction. “So you’re interested in becoming a hero?”

I tried to make sure my words are understandable, easy to understand, to avoid confusion. “Yes, I want to become a hero. I want to be the kind of hero that always there for them.”

“Hmm…” the man said. I thought I screwed up. He did not respond to my statement. Did I mess up? Was I not clear with my words? He look at me again to speak once more. “You have the ability to create anything based on imagination. Quite interesting. However, this seems to be the only positive thing on this resume. You’re simply incompatible with being a hero.”

“I-Incompatible?” My eyes narrowed. The hell is this guy talking about? I try to make sure I do not display much reaction and try to come up words to say, but when I opened my mouth, none came out. “W-what do you mean?” I finally spilled it out. The man looked at my direction and smirked. It seems that he knew that I was rather becoming frustrated.

“Firstly, you seem to have no social skills whatsoever. No community service, no other forms of employment. Seems that you lived a quiet life according to this paperwork you’ve provided.” The man said, sifting through the paper to the next. “The main issue is your appearance. You noted down here that you have a genetic condition, TCS, right? What is it?”

“Treacher Collins Syndrome,” I responded. “It’s like … a genetic condition that affects the facial area, but it doesn’t affect intelligence-”

“Your condition is incompatible with heroism.” The man interrupted me before I can finish speaking. “You seem to be more fitted as a role as a villain, than a hero, Daiman.”

My hands began to gripe onto my dress pants. “A villain? But I was applying to be a hero, not a villain.”
The man fixed his posture, placing the paper down on the table and looked me in the eyes. “Don’t be offended. You should know that your condition would prove to be a factor in this interview. Heroes are a standard of highest quality, which is what people seek in a hero. A hero is something with no flaws whatsoever, in terms of physical attributes and as well as mental. No sort of things that puts them at a disadvantage.” The man explained. “How can we manage a hero with a serious condition? How would that prove to be marketable to the public? Based on your speech, it’s quite horrid. How would you be able to communicate? You’ll just be ended up scaring children away—opposite of what we want as a hero and extremely unmarketable. But as a villain? You’re definitely fit the bill. A tragic villain, wronged by the world because they reject you for being different and seek revenge… Now that sounds a lot like you… so I going to notch you down for employment as a villain…”

“But… a Hero should not be judged by their appearance, but rather their action.” I tried to explain as slow and clear as possible. “My condition should have no bearing on this. They would accept me and considered it as an act of bravery!” I stood up. “I want to show them that anyone can become a hero, all shapes, and sizes!”

The man looked into my eyes, smirking once again. “Oh? You come here and expect everyone to be moved by our bravery? Heroism is an escapism for these people, to give them some form of the comfort of whatever crisis they’ve faced in their lives. You being in it would disrupt it such.” The man continued. “All heroes strive for advantages, ideas that push them to the edge, and life lessons that change their mindset. This is how heroism is defined as—on the concept of good mortality. A disabled person can lead to inspiration, but no one would seriously consider them an opportunity for a good job unless it is a PR stunt. You’re simply here to validate yourself in a society that rejects you. A hero is something who upholds ideas for their people. You’re opposing your own ideas onto them, sounds more villainous. Don’t you agree?” the man smiled.

I remained silent.
[Image: 1eX7gWK.png]

"What dimension is this?"
"All of them."
"That's great, then we can live everywhere!"
"Everywhere you will die."
"Haha- what?"
"You, your family, everyone will die. Over and over. Mountains of broken bodies beneath the wheel."

Content: My Art | No More Heroes | Good Days | Kaiju Man | BoogaVerse
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