Sunset

In the face of all of his doubts and insecurities the man asked a simple question. The kind of question so simple it somehow managed to leave his mind quiet. Unable to produce any kind of thought, beyond the confusion of scrambling for that answer. Eyes wide for a moment, then looking to the sand below as if the multitude of grains would hold an answer for him.  Sometimes it was the simplest things that seemed to hold the most impact.

He opened his mouth and his lips snapped shut as the answer which could have come out just didn’t sound like it would fit. No answer was good enough on its own. Strength. Because they people weren’t strong enough. What did that say about him now?  Was he not strong enough to do what he needed, what they needed them for? Something about even thinking about it was enough to make that pain in his chest even worse. Threads fraying apart with the threat to come undone.

That was when the name came into things. His name. A name he chose for himself, rather than the title people shouted at him from the streets, on billboards and so much more. A symbol he never was able to escape from, and one he didn’t even want to escape from. How did this guy know that?

”Just throw it away? Think you might be the only person whose ever said something like that to me. Well, to my face anyway,” he pulled his jacket closer, trying to keep the ocean breeze at bay. ”Never saw the appeal of being a god. Maybe being enough but enough works against a really high metric. Even if its one I’ve apparently put up for myself my whole life. I barely even know what I’m doing. Actually it sounds like I’m setting myself up for failure.” He turned to the man, mind working through what was happening.

”Just wish my failures didn’t have a body count.” He chuckled there, before frowning as if the weight of what he said hit him. ”So...who are you actually? My name isn’t exactly known by people, except the ones with connections. So probably not a fan boy or stalker,” He didn’t really have the strength to fight, well not anyone with enough skill to outdo someone of his build and size. Also...this guy just might have a gun on him.

Atlas seemed to understand to some minor degree that he was stuffed into a futile system. He was set up for failure. He had no metric of what success was. It was simply defined as not failing, but when his expectations were far too vast, the truth was revealed. Failure is a part of life, it's part of the cycle. To escape failure is to remain stagnant, and to be stagnant was to invite the ultimate sleep upon you. In death all is laid bare, all are equal and all are given rest. Atlas asked him who he was, seeming to recalculate the odds here. He knew better than to say the God comment, yet he still did. Maybe he really did want to say it.

"My name is Matthew." He said calmly and directly, nothing to hide anymore. He let out a sigh and uncrossed his legs as he laid back into the sand. "I disabled the cameras by the way."

It was a moment of quiet as Matthew drew the mask out of the bag, keeping it wrapped as to prevent Atlas from having any form of panic attack. He'd been through enough. After another second he would elaborate further on the comment he made seconds ago. "Your defeat wasn't seen by anyone that wasn't directly there. It was 4 in the morning and I put up an EMP emitter that would have kept cameras from working. So the internet doesn't know."

He asked a question and this time the man gave him a direct answer. Matthew. He worked over the name in his mind, associating it with the bespectacled face before him in the fire light.  That was followed by the mention of cameras, though that part didn’t really mean much to him. What did cameras have to do with anything? Well as if answering his question, the man removed a wrapped mask from his bag. A mask that caused a quick twinge of what he could only describe as fear.

That was when the commented found itself elaborated upon. Something that actually let him breath a sigh of relief, even if that terror was very there from the image of the mask burned in his mind. ”Well there’s one thing. Pretty sure people on the internet are somehow eviler than some people I’ve fought,” His experience with the internet gave that impression at least.

”Giving me some weird impressions though. Beating me and then saving me from the ocean, really sends mixed messages. ” He huffed, looking up to the moon shining down on them. Looked to be a full one right now. ”Not that I’m in any place to complain. Pretty sure if you left me down a little longer I’d be dead. So thanks for that,” It felt wrong to not thank the man, even if he was a villainous sort by many metrics.

Even if he could hear his mother correcting the grammar in his mind, he couldn't contain the chuckle that escaped. The people of the internet could be quite evil. The dark web was a primal breeding ground for the darkest depths of depravity. But still, they were part of his people. He had to protect them from themselves.

  "You might not even know this but...I was there for one of your battles. Not in uniform, but I was there....in the chaos there was a boy whose mother had been trapped, pinned down underneath debris, but only scratched....I tried to tell him everything was okay....I walked over and lifted some of the debris, enough for the woman to pull herself out..." He said as he recalled the visual in excruciating detail. His heart was suffocating, growing weak beneath the pressure. He almost stopped breathing for a moment. The cold chill that filled his body was a familiar sensation. Remembering the cracked streets and the tossed over cars and the sound of sirens and screams from blocks away. He remembered straining to pull on the large rock, the woman quickly moved her legs and started to scurry away. As she scampered to her feet, he dropped the rock, sweat forming on his head. He looked up to Atlas, who gave a strike to an enemy, an inspiring sound of cracking as his for was sent reeling, trashing through a car and sending shards and fragments of metal too close for comfort. Followed by the fabled eyes. But all he could see....all he could notice was the boy's white shirt turning red.

"You we're in the fight. You were in the moment. But you hit a guy the wrong way. Sent him through a nearby semi and sent shrapnel everywhere. Next thing I know the woman is screaming. Piece of shrapnel went clean through him..." He could feel the darkness, like a writhing cancer inside him. Replacing all hurt and pain with hate and resolve. He remembered how the woman wailed. Even for a merciless, blackened soul like him....it was haunting.

 "You didn't do anything wrong. But it just played out that way. You never had the chance to know powerlessness. To know what it means to fear for your life. To weep and put faith in someone else because you were helpless. You weren't even aware that a kid younger than me had his life cut short..." He said, though he knew he was getting a bit long winded. He cleared his throat and shifted in the sand. "I goaded you out. Came to your territory. Did your job for you. Did it viciously. Drew you out. Made you confront me. I took away your assured security to make you aware. To show you what it means to be a human, like the rest of us....it was never to kill you."

The man could have responded to many things he said but what resulted was a story. The scenes that revolved around one of his fights, the many that ended up happening around him. Was it in New York or when he was elsewhere? They happened so often he couldn’t even remember it all, despite that he couldn’t even discount anything Humanity was saying. Nothing about him spoke of a man who had any reason to lie, not that he could tell. He was weak enough that even a normal human didn’t need to consider that. Not that he thought of himself as a person someone should be scared of, not if they were...the thought didn’t even sound right enough to finish.

What really gutted him was a result of his own punch. Even if he didn’t throw it with that intention, someone died anyway. A child no less. It was easy enough to read on his face; realization followed by a swiftly deepening shame mingled with sadness. A harsh, broken sound worked out of him, his own hand not quick enough to cover his mouth. He didn’t know what to do, or how to react. Today was just a massive example of everything he had been doing. Flying around, acting like he had some control over things, that he had been protecting anyone but this man had the story to rip those notions apart.

”Yes you...taught me a lesson I needed to learn for a while it seems,” He said finally, fingers interlaced over his eyes which stung once again. Everything coming together, drawn by this small realization that felt as if it were ruining him. ”I thought I was doing something but...maybe all I’ve done is...I don’t know what I’ve done. At best been an idol, but  all I have is peoples blood on my hands. My heroism, Atlas was a lie. I can see that much now.” There was no laughter though, just the hollow statements as he realized they were true.

What everyone saw was nothing more than a fragile thing wrapped in the merest shell of strength. Anyone could approach, rip it away and reveal him for what he truly was. Show him he had saved nothing, preserved no one and in the end only destroyed. Those that made him only managed to give their hollow words to make him feel better.

You’re not only a failure but a threat to them as well. The words returned to him, stinging like fire within his mind. As if each syllable branded and condemned him.

”Maybe she was right after all.” He could feel his own nails digging into his forehead, faint stinging as he kept his fingers clasped over his eyes, trying to somehow shut off what felt like a valve of emotion.

He could recognize those words. Maybe she was right. Whomever she was they had an impact on him. He remembered hearing those words come from his own mouth. But it wasn't she, it was more plural. He cut Atlas deep, and he didn't even mean to. He just justified himself. Explained his actions. That's all it took. There was a sense of sick satisfaction when he heard Atlas struggle with his reality. Struggling to reconcile the fact his actions had consequences he couldn't see, that he couldn't foretell. All of his power and what did it mean?

"Heroism is a lie. The lie we tell your children to get them to dare to dream. A lie, like how broccoli is a grown-up food and how we swear to them Santa clause is real. A lie like how corporations say they care for their consumers, but truly mean they care for their wallets. It is a lie of good intention, but a lie is no way to build a relationship." Humanity said as he rest in the sand. He didn't look at Atlas. He still looked to the stars, allowing Atlas the chance to grieve unwatched and away from private eyes. It was, of course a meaningless gesture in the long term, but even the slightest bit of respect was something he was compelled to grant.

"The emotions make you human. Don't fight them." He said as he shut his eyes. The truth will set you free. Maybe that was enough to set him free of his burden. Or perhaps it would be enough to set him free of his prison, the people who did this to him. He would give Atlas as long as he needed. He would silently and respectfully wait until he was spoken to again.

These words cut deeper and left wounds more jagged than any injury he had been dealt out before.  All this power and he couldn’t save anything. The imagine of a young child, rent to pieces by what he had done. Tragedy caused by him. Fault placed solely within his own hands.  There was nowhere for the emotions these realizations gave him. He didn’t know if he wanted to cry or hit something, punch a tree until his knuckles ran red with blood and maybe even broke his knuckles. A sort of external pain to mix with the internal one.

Being told heroism was a lie...well it didn’t even feel as bad. It stung. Like having a band aid ripped off but it didn’t hurt as much as everything else really. His teeth ground together, biting back what he thought was a sob. Some kind of sound that built up in his chest, shook around and threatened to rise up. He never felt like this before. It was painful, the most agonizing thing that had ever been inflicted upon him.  Did he do it to himself? He didn’t know but he hated ever seconds of it. Even down to his eyes burning at the fringes, as if he knew what was coming.

He lied to himself and everyone else.  So he just let himself fall apart, that silent weeping that eventually petered out. When he felt as if he had poured everything out, leaving him almost empty. ”A lie huh? I don’t even really know what that means for me now,” He said, after what felt like minutes of silence. Only the waves washing over the beach shore, pulling his fingers away and wiping away what he could. Something told him his eyes would still be bloodshot and yet that was fine. Did he have anything to hide from Humanity now? The man had managed to break him down faster than anyone else, there was no hiding things now.

”If this is what being humans like it sucks,” He managed a small, if somewhat weak laugh. ”I don’t really even know what to do anymore.  I’m human but then what? My whole life, everything I know has been ripped apart. Don’t know what to do after that.” He said, but what else could he say? Was there anything else he could do?

It took time, as expected, but he had all night and nowhere to be. The Golden defender was reduced to an emotional wreck in only a few sentences. But if that were true, then what would be the future? He could convince Atlas to resign, of course. But that wasn't his intentions. He had chosen his words carefully, picked every moment of detail, every word for this one moment. He was asked what comes next. What does one do when they are human?

"You rebuild." It was a simple answer, but entirely unsatisfactory as well. Underwhelming and yet holistically truthful. He sat up, his legs remaining stiff and unmoving as he seemed to ride from the sand, similarly to how he had as Humanity several times before, giving a sense of fright to others who thought they had laid the mortal demon to rest.

"Your ideals, your perspective has been shattered. When everything you held dear is fleeting, you rebuild from what you believe in." He then began to stretch, almost looking comical as his body twisted and he made a werid face. "You believe in helping the innocent. You believe in protecting the weak, right? Well, if that organization believed the same they would have bothered to teach you environmental awareness. You're utterly blind to your surroundings. Similarly to Amaterasu. You have intense powers that have been tested and refined. Just like Amaterasu. You are a powerhouse and untrained in any form of disciplined martial arts...." He said as he began to shift the conversation. Of course Atlas cared, that's why he suffered now. But the people he worked for, what care did they have for people? How could there be more of Atlas running around, and even Amaterasu? How could there be so many similarities to Atlas and Amaterasu? He was hoping that Atlas paid attention. The lies that we tell ourselves. Good in intention, but still lies all the same. Why would an organization create a superhuman? "Organizations are like beasts. They seek to survive and thrive, profit their nutrients and talent their hydration. So tell me, Damien. Why would an Organization create the greatest Superhero? Where is the profit in that? Why would an organization market the perfect hero, but not train them in restraint or environmental awareness? Why would they send him to battle against a slew of powerful beings like a battering ram?"

Here he asked the very man he was sure played a big part in ripping down his world view. Along with these thoughts he had to wonder  if it were so bad. Despite how painful everything had become, laboring under a lie was something he could tell was even worse. Believing his heroism was more than it was. A lie he believed in with all of his heart, rushing in to chaotic environments to fight powerful things  he had been told were dangerous to people.  What did all of that mean? Facing someone with the same powers as him just brought about more questions now that he had the time to think about it.

”Yeah...I do believe in those things,” He agreed, unable to push away the dejected feelings within him. There was no undoing the pain, not soon anyway and he couldn’t even pretend that he was better now.  All he knew was the organization was coming up now, very pointed questions towards their integrity too.  Not that he ever found anyone accusing them of having any of that.  Even still the statements were enough to draw his attention fully towards him, blood stained hetero-chromatic eyes considering the man with unspoken questions.

”I don’t know. If they’re anything like businesses in your lie speech, they probably wanted wallets or money,” He shrugged,  eyes falling to the sand again. ”Living weapons maybe? I doubt they’re making any money with the collateral damage,” So where were they getting all this money? He didn’t really know anything about finance, but he was pretty sure the stuff didn’t come from nowhere. He sighed, massaging the bridge of his nose as he felt the beginnings of a headache come on.

”Something tells me you’re implying they’re not good people. So should I break it off? Wander the world, learn what it means to be a hero in the wilds or something like that?” He sounded sharper than he meant to be, sighing afterwards. ”I don’t even really know what to do with that honestly. Helping the innocent and weak doesn’t exactly have concrete rules it seems,”

Why would he bother to do this? To tolerate the snappy tone, the self-lamenting torment. It honestly would have been less of a headache to let him drown. Things would have worked out anyway, they always did. The hero would have survived and come back to save the day. They were so predictable, it was sickening. The man loses twice and gets snarky. Did he have any idea how much some people sacrifice to accomplish a FRACTION of his potential?

He had his world flipped. Being angry doesn't fix it. Just do what you do he thought to himself as he felt a surge of resentment he took a deep breath in and let it out slowly as he let out a musing little hum. He spun his mask in his hand, catching it before it fell out.

"Which is exactly why you shouldn't care about other people's rules. My rules are mine. The law doesn't matter to me. Prison isn't a deterant, lock me in a facility with a bunch of criminals? Kill me? I went toe to toe with the greatest heroes and villians this world has ever known. Do you think death is a deterrent? But everything I do, as hard as I've worked do you know what it means? Forget it. No, my point is, you have an insane gift that was handed to you. You finally just got to punch in your own weight class and got throttled. It happens. You're alive. Get up, train and fight smart. This woman arrives with your power set and a bunch of soldiers that are the Great Value brand of you. You're paired with an organization that develops you and brands you while doing WHO KNOWS WHAT with your blood? My money is down on her running that organization. So no. You don't break it off. You use them, the way they used you. You get more info on your powers, you develop your powers more and if they refuse to cooperate you give them a reason to cooperate." He found himself ranting, even getting sidetracked. He couldn't stand giving advice to heroes. He wasn't one himself, never could be. Never again. The rules, the societal expectations. His whole life had been striving for that, only to be stepped on, trashed and tossed aside.

"Being a hero is simple. You stand for something. Something that is truly good. Everyone has a different idea of what that is. That's why there are so many good people who get called villians, and so many bad people who are honored as heroes. It's a glorified popularity contest. How is it that this is what it's reduced to?" He could feel his distain bleeding through. This was one of those moments where he truly wondered which was more evil, the mask or the face behind. He wanted to bite something, like a rabid animal. He wanted to hack something up. He had never lost control of himself. But the concept of people like Travis Masters, Elena Vexus, The Lych and even Phoenix. All a glorified popularity contest, to gain influence and power. It has nothing to do with morals or accountability. Heroes weren't heroes anymore. They never had been. They were an eidolon of a bygone dream. He began to stretch out and yawned before the anger completely vanished, like a light switch his emotions were killed off and the personable chipper tone had returned.

"You got the power. Not me. I'm just the Villian in a costume. he said with a small smile and then pressing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose.

He made his own rules? A concept Atlas had heard before but not one he had really put onto himself. Even thinking about it now sounded like one of those things he should have known but didn’t really consider as possible. So he tried to absorb everything the villain  known as Humanity spoke.  The kind of words he probably once would have laughed off but they weren’t so easy to brush off now. That kind of statement that latched onto him deeply with hooks and clawed its way into him. He hadn’t fought anyway before that was close to his level of strength. Not someone that did anymore than just irritate, not actually hurt nor come close as she did to killing him. He had never felt this weak, not within his living memory.  There were maybe shadowed memories, when he was as weak if not weaker than those around him but they were long gone.

Could she be the true leader behind the people who made him. His crestfallen expression shifted into thoughtfulness,  brows furrowed and eyes focused on the sand.  A venerable thousand yard stare, as if his mind had devoted all brain cells into figuring out what he should do about. If he was to make his own rules, what would they be? So far what he wanted was always aligned with what they wanted but that couldn’t stay the same forever.  Eventually that would change, if he knew anything and he would be forced to act in a different way. A way that they would punish he imagined.  More words came and more to think about it.

”Always seemed that way. If most people don’t like you, you’re basically a villain and if it’s the opposite you’re a hero,” He noted, stroking his chin and nodding along as if that made sense. Was heroism really that flimsy? ”So I should stay with them?” He muttered to himself, seemingly working through what he had been told.  What did Humanity want anyway? If he was really a villain, was there a deeper motivation or did he really want to help him? These words he spoke sounded like help was the goal, but he couldn’t tell really. This man was just hard to read.  Not that he ever knew how to read people in the first place, that was another thing entirely.

”You’ve given me a lot to think about. I...don’t think I want to act on it immediately, make a stupid decision. I think I’ve done that enough already,” He gave a soft chuckle, scratching the back of his head before looking back to Humanity. ”Well, I’ve got time on this island. My powers probably won’t be working until the sun starts rising.  Thanks again for saving me Humanity. Even if you’re a villain,” He shrugged,  giving a mild smile as if trying to back that gratitude up with his expression.

At least his words seemed to reach. To put everything out there to a self-righteous pig would normally only lead to rejection and an equally self-righteous rebuke. No matter how logical it was. But he didn't receive that, not this time. He was stunned to be honest, he had fully expected Atlas to flip the script on him. But ultimately he didn't. He said he would take no action, no brash decisions. Matthew was so used to wearing the mask to hide his expression, he forgot to tame his slack-jawed look of disbelief on his face. It curled to a smile as he nodded rather enthusiastically.

"Right. Yeah. Exactly. Just think it over. But keep to who you are. If you don't kill, then don't kill. I've bloodied my hands so that people like you don't have to." He said as he felt somewhat hopeful. Atlas wouldn't be so easy to deceive or keep in the dark. Maybe Matthew was just too paranoid or distrusting... Either way. It never hurts to scrutinize authority and call out obvious areas of hypocrisy.

"No thanks needed. Just forget my face. Sort of ruined that 'I could be anybody' schtick I got going." He said as he started to throw a little bit more on the dying flame. Prometheus gave the flame to mortals, and suffered, or so some mythologies would have us believe. But being handed something doesn't mean you can rest. You need to stay vigilant, watch and tend to what you're handed. Fire, plants, animals, or even knowledge. He had done what he could, for now, as he had with this fire. He continued to write down in his book, glossing over it to ensure he was checking his work. If he could defeat Atlas, he could help defeat Amaterasu. He could make Atlas stronger, better. It was the best thing he could do right now for everyone. His battle plan and observations were key.

The man looked surprised. A slack jawed expression that betrayed some kind of disbelief, though he couldn’t really decipher what that expression was for. Did he say something that made it all seem to unbelievable.  It wasn’t a reaction he expected from him. Not that he had many expectations about Humanity. The man was a villain, broke at the very least societies laws but were they so right? ”I don’t kill if I can help it but can’t always help it. Guess I can keep to that, haven’t actually killed anyone yet I think,” He spoke to himself, huffing to himself and stroking his chin which felt fuzzy. There was a lot he didn’t know about this world, a lot that he likely needed to just learn about. Knowing how much he didn’t know was a sobering sensation.

He couldn’t help chuckling at Humanity’s statement. Ruining his whole could be anything thing, which to him it didn’t but maybe it did.  ”no offense, but I think that went out the window when you defeated me. Not to insult average people or anything but I don’t think just anyone could do it,” It made sense to him, though he didn’t feel any bitterness in the fact. Even still, this man had ideas on how to beat him so maybe he also had ideas on how to beat this woman. Did he know things he just didn’t. ”So, you stayin with me all night or plan to leave soon?” He queried, looking to Humanity, brow arced and expression curious.

”Don’t mind the company but I’m sure you have a lot to do. Humanity things or whatever,”

"I do have Humanity things to do. But sadly, I can't zip off at Mach 20, leap to shore in a single bound, or even fly my way to do those things... I could use the boat I guess, but the more time I spend on it the more chance I have of leaving evidence behind..." He said, trying to think of more excuses as to why he had to stay. Truth was he could probably bound off and leave Damian to his own devices, but he was weakened. Something about seeing him in a human light made the switch in his head flip, the protective one that made him murder people that harmed the defenseless.

 "I'll wait until dawn...gives me a chance to actually see the waves." He said as he crossed his eyes, and took his glasses off before putting them back on his face. He started looking over the details he had written down, his eyes scouring the page and his mind looking for any possible connection.

 "So what's your story?" He finally asked, breaking the silence and finally contributing a small bit in his own right. He had done enough talking, it might be nice to hear someone else's woes and worries. Especially with their recent defeats. It's good to remind people where they came from, why they do what they do.

”I don’t think I can do any of those things right now actually,” Damien said, not really complaining but stating what seemed like fact. Realizing he lacked any kind of strength or whatever made him special by public opinion. It wasn’t long, but he could see why people thought the mundane thing was overrated. There was a small part of him that just didn’t know what he would do if he didn’t charge up soon. A small part that knew he was nothing without those fantastic abilities that made him...well himself.

That man said he would wait until dawn, though how long away was that? So he sighed, standing up and trying to just feel that power within. A sense of buoyancy that allowed him to break the confines of this earth and just fly away.  No such feeling came about, leaving him feeling even more dejected than before. Notable frown forming on his lips as he turned to Humanity, considering what he had asked.  What was his story?

”That’s a tough one...or maybe it isn’t.” He started, pacing around the fire as the light flickered and washed over the two of them. ”I don’t really remember my parents. My mom or my dad really but I do remember the people that raised me.  With hindsight...I should have seen how obvious my being a living weapon was. Daily shots, weird regiments and strict tests when my powers started to come in. I didn’t even know what it felt like to be in the outside world until I was...thirteen I think. It was a weird feeling really,” He explained, trying to parse through that haze which composed his life.

His youth was one of those things that didn’t have many strong images to conjure from.  ”I was told I had a big destiny. That I was going to save the world, the human race even but they never got into what I was saving it from.” There was a pause after that, his gaze looking to the ocean and the faint lights of ruined New York in the distance. ”They told me I was supposed to be a great hero but I’m starting to feel more like a guinea pig,”

"Shit...at least I had a childhood." He said with a sigh. He didn't realize this had been going on since the dude was a child. That was messed up. Did humans have no sense of sanity? No moral fiber that screamed out this was someone's child? He felt that protective urge swell up, but with nothing to lash out on, he quickly felt it release. He listened intently, and suddenly everything about this poor bastard just made sense. He felt an uneasy lump in his throat as he nodded.

I sure know how to pick my targets. Pick the one bastard who literally was raised to be this and beat his ass. Yeah. Good one Matthew. Hope you're happy Humanity, you sick son of a- "You know uh. Yeah. Believe it or not I get that. The Guinea Pig thing....not so much of a lab rat type thing but more of uh....pet type way." He said with a slight chuckle. Why he was talking about this now was beyond him. But he decided to open this can of worms. Not that somehow spilling his own story was anything even remotely intelligent, but maybe this is something he needed to do. Maybe he was okay with this being the time someone, anyone knew about what makes him tick. He'd been manipulating therapists since he was 6, but somehow. Somehow the superhuman godly being was just human enough to cause a momentary lapse of judgement.

"You uh...my family are all gifted. They got these little cool gifts. You know how you got yours. Uh...guess uhm.... My mom, my dad, and my older brother, me and my younger brother. Just uh...throw out a guess there. What's our gifts?"