"January 8th: 1:22pm""You see that guy in the tattered, red cape wandering in the middle of the city? That's our protagonist. He's got wavy black hair, strong, muscly arms and a long, loose blue t-shirt engulfed in the style of the cape. That's CappioMan. Nobody knows his true identity, his true thoughts and feelings. He just cleans up the city whenever the monsters arrive. That's the main premise, anyway."
"The first thing you see in this story is the tall grey skyscrapers and the broken down buildings. You have no idea how long that took to make. The buildings engulf the streets, and as he's wandering around, you can't help but gaze at these roads, and the classic pub that you'll see him stroll into throughout the story."
"The pub is like his headquarters. It's really the only building he constantly walks into, and who can blame him? All the drunks cheer for him whenever he enters the room, and after a while, the barstools dance in his honour. He's welcomed in the dimly lit, rusty place with a free beer every time he struts in."
"And he can drink, but once you make him, it's difficult to pull him away. From his perspective, it makes his brain whirl. It dulls his doubting head and drowns his thoughts. It's one of the only reasons why he's a superhero; a few down the neck and he's not afraid of any monster that plagues the town."
"And so he's sat there smugly in his designated stool, signing autographs as his trembling finger taps away at his glass full of beer, his cape gently dangling over the seat. He doesn't want to gulp it all down in front of the fans - nobody likes him drunk."
"And if you're attentive enough, you'll see the light in the window fade with each passing second. Of course, CappioMan didn't notice. At this point, he was only half way through his second drink. He was just desperate for the fans to leave him alone so that he could drink himself to death."
"But the light outside was fading fast. And not like a normal evening fade either. It was getting blacker and blacker, and people only started to notice after the sounds of distorted screams filled their eardrums. At this point, CappioMan's hanging his head in grief. If one of these monsters has come back, he's gonna have to keep fighting them every hour of every day, begging for it to go back to normal again. They probably never left this cursed town. They live to haunt him."
"As the wide-eyed crowd staggered away from the bar to watch, do did CappioMan - reluctantly. With merely a drink and a half in his system, he shoves past the helpless crowd and lets his eyes dart from left to right down the populated road, searching for this goddamn monster."
"He didn't know why he was searching - he wasn't gonna find anything anyway. Do you know how absolutely massive these monsters are? And he was just some puny, frail wannabe in a kids' cape. Pathetic. At least, that was what was spinning through his head anyway."
"He knew what was going to happen. He was going to begin battling this gigantic beast, and then he'll freeze up, or make a mistake, or the monster will just grow until he just couldn't fight it anymore. And then he'll be eaten in front of everyone. And nobody will do anything about it. Hell, they'd probably even film it or stream it for all to see, that's how much they'd care. He thinks, he knows nobody loves him. Nobody will care if he gets eaten. They wouldn't even be able to help. So they'll just stare, wide-eyed as he tries his best to stop trembling in the chilling air. But his teeth won't stop chattering, and his hands won't stop sweating. Because the monster will snarl its dagger-sharp teeth and liquid black soul, and they'll all cower in fear. Fear? Fear..."
"And then he realises. Ansia."
"But by the time he realised the black force had arrived, he was already swept up in the monster's sharp, wrinkled hands. And it's only when he turns around and glares at the monster's dagger-like fangs that you can see his instincts kicking in. Swiftly, he tries kicking back the ferocious black beast before charging up his signature punch. However, it didn't cause the thing to even flinch ; it merely pushed Cappioman away, sending him tumbling to the ground, coughing up rubble."
"The defeated, fear-stricken look in his eyes isn't enough to deter the passionate, cheering crowd from forcing the hero to get up. I'm sure the crowd doesn't mean any harm, but imagine it from CappioMan's perspective. His dirty elbows brushing against the concrete road, his trembling fingernails gripping his knife as the monster towers effortlessly over the puny hero. Seeing the huge, black beast stagger towards him, growling and roaring as the crowd watches on: filming, cheering, crying. But doing nothing to help."
Nobody was helping him. They weren't even going to try. It was as if Cappio was the only man in the world that saw what was going on. And he couldn't lose this battle in front of his adoring fans ; he'd lose everything. All his respect and dignity. His legacy. Their faith and trust in him...
"Not here."
"He has to lead them away from the crowd. Blood spewing from his coughing mouth, he begins to stumble away from the thing before staggering to his feet and sprinting for the old car park lingering in the shadows, behind the tall buildings. He can obviously feel the floor violently shake like an earthquake once the mindless thing chases after him, the crowd mumbling to themselves and yet still staying put, like cowards. Just the shadow of it turns every inch of the city ahead to a gloomy darkness. Cappio reaches for his long sword, preparing for a fight for his life."
"The scorching hot sun only strengthens the outstretched shadows cowering next to each rubble-ridden car. At least, that's the only thing CappioMan can focus on. It's like a typical chase scene. Look behind him, and he'll see a growling, hungry, wolf-like creation dragging its yellow claws along the concrete ground. And it terrifies the life outta this guy, as it should be. I can't imagine the task of fighting one of these on the daily. I could never."
"Anyway, he reaches the car park, turns around and grips his sword with both hands to look Ansia deep into its soulless eyes. Palms sweating. Body shaking. Cape flowing in the wind. Heart bashing outta his chest. You can physically see how much this is wearing him down, but he's ready to do it anyway. He takes a typical heroic pose and tries to hide the fear in his eyes. But he doesn't dare approach Ansia. No, he allows it to come to him."
"See, he's thinking that Ansia's just gonna charge blindly like the bumbling giant it poses to be. But no. It stands still for a few moments, and then a few moments more. That's because it's charging up fireballs that lunge from the back of its throat to spray everywhere, infecting the surrounding cars with a tinted light-orange glow."
"The spitting heat of the flames clearly challenges the blazing, sinking sun because Cappio's forced to step back if he doesn't wanna lose any health. At first, he cowers directly under the wave of fire, but the monster catches on quickly and he starts getting lower. So Cappio's forced to quickly jump up on top of the roofs of the cars until the thing runs out of breath. That's when it's Cappio's turn, and the fun can really begin."
"In case you didn't see, Ansia has a weak spot just above its scrawny legs, signified by a bandage. Kinda like an Achilles' Heel of sorts. And so when Ansia inevitably runs out of scorching flames and stops to take a breath, Cappio quickly springs into action, plastering on his best fake smile before charging under the monster and plunging his raging sword deep into its weak spot. Breaths sharpening, arms weakening, sweat heavy. And the guy's desperate, so even when the monster's sharp reaching and squealing and flailing around, he refuses to yank his sword out from underneath until Ansia pulls himself together and forcefully knocks him back to where he was beforehand."
"This causes Ansia to morph to an almost sickly shade of yellow as it grumbles and gargles, almost as if you could physically see its growing anger. Which isn't good. Cappio's anticipating larger, more direct attacks at this point. And the monster soon delivers on its expectations. Once again, it spits up charging balls of fire, almost as tall as CappioMan himself, and so it forces him to quickly swerve out of the way, sending him tumbling to the ground. And he almost doesn't notice when he rolls over and looks forward, because he has to shield his eyes from the sun. But it wasn't hard to soon catch on that Ansia violently rips off a chunk of the nearest building and launches it in his direction."
"He automatically cus up into a ball, and he wants to stay like that, but he knows he can't. He has too many people counting on him. But staring up at the pitch black clouds and the brick building slowly inching towards him... It makes his body freeze. It's like he's stuck in time, paralysed, allowing his doubting head to pin him down. And then it strikes."
"It feels like a massive blow to the chest, crushing him under the bricks and rubble. He probably feels his health declining. Sting spreading through his frail body. Metallic blood corrupting his taste. Heart best slowing slightly."
"Of course, he still groggily gets up and coughs up rubble and blood, only to see Ansia's out of breath again. Desperately, he fumbles for his sword. Next thing he knows, his wobbly legs are taking over and he's sprinting for that weak spot, burying his sword deeper than ever before. And gets crying. Probably part relief. Probably part awaiting the problem that he could get defeated at any moment, and all his life goals would be for nothing. But as usual, the monster squirms before shoving him away. But this time, once Cappio looks back, he realises that Ansia is glowing, radiating hot red. Its fuming. He has to defeat it as soon as possible."
"And so for the third and final time, the monster immediately charges in to a flourish of feisty fireballs, but Cappio doesn't want to take any more. So now he can dash directly behind a car and shove it with all his might towards Ansia, watching nervously as the sparking flames roll over the car and him. And once again, parts of more buildings come toppling on top of him, but instead he ducks and rolls, keeping his unsteady hand gripped on the car mirror."
"And now he doesn't need to wait anymore. And he can't. So now he can balance himself on top of the car, launch himself into the bitter, ashy air, level with its eyes, and plunge into its skull with all his remaining strength and hatred and desperation until it finally loses control of its balance and slams its dark body on the ground. No noise. No fire. It's no longer a threat for the time being."
"The lingering stench of rubble and sweat is no longer enough to distract his heavy head. He watches, sighing and laughing hysterically as the shrivelled body slowly catches fire. Then he blinks, a loud explosion echoes throughout the place, and the body disappears. And nobody says it, or even implies it, but he knows that another one's gonna come back all too soon. And he's gonna have to prepare for that. And so the audience really shouldn't be cheering as if everything's gonna be okay, because it's not. But oh well, they always stop after a day or so."
January 9th: 3:35pm" The words flash over as Cappio stands steadily on the building by the car park, which is already being reconstructed at this point. The warm, inviting glow of the subset peeks down the rooftop as he embraces it, chilling air and all. He's got one foot on the edge, debating in his head. See, he doesn't really know what he's good at, 'cuz he's always been too chicken to do anything. So he doesn't know if he can fly on his own or not. And then now there's always a thought in the back of his head, urging him to do it. The reasoning being that, whether he makes it or not, it wouldn't matter anyway. And at least if he falls, he won't have to fight any more monsters."
"He closes his eyes for a second to focus on his breaths, and when he opens them back up again, he's distracted by the tiny civilians below. And they're shopping. Can you believe it? Not panicking, not celebrating. He sits there wondering if they even remember yesterday at all. He wouldn't be surprised either way ; they all love him, but he knows none of them care what happens to him. He could jump off right there and they'd all forget him by next week."
"Look at them. Mindless to what's swimming in everyone else's heads. Like it or not, everybody's selfish in some way. They all just pretend to care for each other but they're all more concerned with looking out for themselves. That's why he'd hate to be homeless ; being ignored by that many people must have a toll on you."
"Look at the street as well. Littered with empty rubbish and advertising posters. It's a dump. Barely anyone looks after that place, considering it gets destroyed by giants every other day. All the businesses glimpsing outside, praying for more customers. The public could be on fire and they'd still try robbing them blind with catchy slogans and rising prices. It's all about money with these pathetic people. Always looking for new con tricks."
"And look at him. Sitting there, judging everyone like he's all high and mighty. His head'll pull him back down to earth. Truth is, he knows he's more messed up than any one of those people down there. Sometimes he thinks he was chosen at random to fight the world's demons. He hates this town and everyone in it but he contributes to the crumbling dump pile. He bets all the bars get good money off of his daily beer purchase. He's the one fighting everything and giving nobody a reason to care for it. He's the one that doubts himself over every tiny little decision, hates himself with every tiny problem, sacrifices sleep every night for enslaved thoughts. He's the plague the town really needs to get rid of. Hey, why not just get rid of it all? Why not get rid of everything, including himself, because nobody-"
"...And that's when he realises. It's only when he comes to his senses that he realises what's happening to him in the first place. Livore's come to fuck with his puny head."
"Yeah. Second monster. He turns around and catches sight of this red-orange demon with clear glowing flames in his red eyes, stone-like fingers and heavy arms that tower over the rest of its body. Its lips are quivering, and his heavy feet drag along the rooftop floor. It looks just about ready to pound CappioMan deep into the ground."
"And Cappio wants nothing to do with it. In fact, once you regain control, he immediately heads for the door. It's only when the beast raises his massive fists and slams it into the ground, launching him up into the air and back crashing down in an earthquake, that he realises he can't leave.
"Usually the adrenaline would catch up to him at this point, and he'd begin trembling out of pure fear, or sweating out of pressure to save himself. But that doesn't happen here. He's too pissed off at everything to feel anything other than hatred and the burning desire to slash and kill this pathetic excuse of a thing in front of him."
"So, at first, he charges up, ready to blindly swing his sword at its head. That is, until he notices Livore's eight arm slowly dropping full-force towards the floor. He knows its gonna cause another earthquake, So he quickly decides to launch himself on top of one of the several A.C units as its fist pummels down on the rooftop floor. Not only does it cause several cracks scattered on the white roof, but Cappio grows confused as the ground begins to shake violently. He's holding onto that A.C unit for dear life until the vibrating floor slowly gets weaker and weaker until he can't feel it anymore."
"That's when he can charge. He grabs his sword and moves towards Livore, even though he shouldn't. Because its got another trick up its sleeve. But not like Ansia's fiery dragon-like breath, no. It just starts spinning like a ceiling fan. Arms outstretched. Thing is, because its arms are as tough as stones, they're as good a weapon as any. And they're massive too, so CappioMan has no choice but to duck out of the way quickly. It's much easier to make mistakes here, because he's filled with earthly rage at this point."
"Thing is, if you swerve too far out of the way, he finds himself losing his balance... on the edge of the rooftop. And he thinks about it. Of course he does. He knows what it would mean, and it almost cares nothing to him. He almost longs for it. Almost. And he can do it. At every single point in this thing, he's able to do it. But let's say he doesn't, and he keeps his balance and waits 'till the long, red arms stop spinning. Eventually, this thing gets dizzy and crashes, takes a break. Familiar?"
"And even though he can race up towards it, at first, it's difficult to see what he can do, because almost its whole body's covered in armour. But then, if you notice, the only thing that connects its body armour to its arms is a single strap. So what Cappio does is, he takes his heavy sword and swings down on Livore's arm with full force. Teeth gritting. Arms shaking. Furious look in his eyes. He doesn't stop either, not until the arm's clean off. He keeps slashing and slashing until the monster pounds the ground once more, brushing him far back."
"At this point, Livore's this one-armed livid demon. A little bit of blood spurts out of its stump but not much. What a weird city."
"It roars, bashing the ground in anger, degrading the ground to nothing but a vibrating mess, an obstacle. It takes Cappio by surprise, and he doesn't know what to do other than back-lit off the solar panels just to avoid the deathly floor. I mean, he can quite literally see waves forming in the ground, like a Mexican wave of ignorant citizens. He jumps across each wave, trying to keep in balance, The blood-red sunset glow blinding his eyes from the enemy ahead. Night'll be even worse to fight in."
"Then Livore stops and swings, but this time, its slowly edging towards Cappio. Moving as it spins. Cappio sighs in exhaustion, ducking and weaving around the spinning body. And it doesn't stop this time. It keeps spinning, and Cappio's had enough. Enough of this thing underestimating him and thinking it can defeat him with a few arm swings. Enough of the public doing nothing, even though they can clearly see him struggling. Enough of this pretend soldier with its buffed out muscly arm and a cocky stature and an immortal status."
"Let's see how he likes it without any arms then, shall we?"
"He waits a few seconds, watching the arm swing closer and closer, timing it in his head. Then he moves. Counting himself in, he lunges forward and drops the bloody sword down on its arm. He gets hit in the process but the pain doesn't affect him much. He grunts loudly as he swings down, almost screaming internally with every slash. The swinging stopped by now, and Cappio just closes his eyes and lets the animal in him takes over."
"He's growling as he scratches at the arm repeatedly, never satisfied, never stopping until he heard the sweet, satisfying sound of the steel-like muscles drop to the ground, dead weight. Of course, that's never gonna be the end of it. As Livore yells out, CappioMan's looking at his cut and bruised face in his blood-smeared sword's reflection, panting and grunting heavily and loudly, blood dripping over his face. And he's smiling. He's never felt so cold in all his life. Never blinking. Never relaxing his shoulders. Hungry for blood."
"At this point, Livore appears to have a glowing fire in its eyes. Its blood is everywhere, it's as if it has claimed it with its blood. And it doesn't care. It's grown, and it's now towering over CappioMan. Rough skin changing shades. Low grumble in its throat. Claws in its feet attached to the ground. Cappio knows exactly what's about to happen, because it's happened before. It always does. Livore knows it's losing..."
"...So it's gonna take the building with him. Well if this bitch thinks it can get away, it's dead 'n' wrong."
"Its charging now, preparing for when it's powerful enough to literally belly flop and take half the building to the grave. Cappio withdraws his sword and heads for the exit, stumbling and staggering down the thumping metal stairs. He's nearly down to ground level when he hears it. The crush. The repeated sounds of screaming and overwhelming crashing sounds, getting slightly less distorted with each passing second. Cappio swings off of the stairs so that his dirt-ridden boots touch the floor of the ground level: The car park."
"He's got his honoured red sword out, ready, running his still fingers through his wavy, black hair, directing his sunken, green eyes to the centre, where the monster's going to land. It was like the whole place was absorbed of light, with no windows and barely any cracks of broken sunlight forcing through. It's a matter of seconds at this point."
"He's anticipating the loud car alarms. The collateral damage. The pig squeals. But why would he care? They'll soon see the importance if his freaking jo-"
CRASH!
"It's like a jumpscare, isn't it? Entranced Cappio doesn't even flinch. He staggers up towards his fallen, cowardly enemy, removes its body armour, and puts his sword on its throat. No satisfaction yet. He always thought there'd be something In their eyes just before they get slaughtered. Regret? Pain? Fear? Relief? But no. Staring deep into Livore's black eyes in the middle of a ghost town... its eyes are as dead as it always is. No satisfaction. They'll never feel the pain, the exhaustion that he endures every day."
"And so he just ends it. Cutting into its throat as easily as he could with a steak. He outstretches his arm, sword in hand, and shakes it violently to shake the blood off. Not satisfactory enough. He strikes again, This time between its eyes. Again, on its forehead, so he can watch the black blood trickle down its face. Again in the stomach, if it ever had a heart. Again, plunging his knife as deep as it could possibly go, with all his might. And he doesn't realise it yet but he's screaming his lungs out. Eyes tearing up. Nose scrunched. Light blinding him as he towers over his victim. He hasn't won."
"He looks up at the gaping hole, filled with visions of crying civilians and still bodies and rubble. He looks ahead, filled with light engulfing the daily consumers going about their daily business, pretending they don't see any of it. His endless, rage-filled screams would make his lungs give out before he gets cared about by anyone. But at least it's done. For now."
"January 10th, 5:52pm" "The words flash as he checks his watch under the artificial bar light. He figures he needs to get drunk after his mental breakdown yesterday. And it seems like the guys here are the only ones with actual character or any caring personality whatsoever. He seems to be coming here less and less each day because the fans figured out his daily routine."
"He stares down at his half-empty glass of beer with sunken, scarred eyes before he gets distracted by the man behind the bar. He's a tall, balding man with a rough, untucked blue shirt. He shoots Cappio a large, unsettling grin."
""How's it been?" He speaks, leaning over the bar, his croaky southern voice echoing throughout the near empty bar. It was just five of them, and he knows them all really well. Obviously, because he sees them almost every day. But Cappio just shrugs and plasters a smirk. He lets his eyes wandered back to the... oh. Sorry. I don't know how, but the beer is... spilt over his lap? And the glass is all the way over there? I guess he doesn't even notice."
"And as he goes to grip his hands around empty air... as if the glass... never m-moved, he rests his tired eyes on the bartender. As the bartender goes to grab drinks off the counter... his character seems to have frozen in time. And he's moving very randomly and suddenly. Cappio blinks, and the bartender is on the other side, facing the other direction entirely. Sorry, that should probably be fixed."
"'Go on. What's wrong? Is it about what that guy did to your building yesterday?' The guy lightly taps Cappio on his heavy shoulders, and he just shakes his head yes."
"It's here that we get Cappio's first piece of proper dialogue. Well, technically, he says a line in the middle of the... first fight? I think? But you can barely hear that over the monster and the slashing and all that. He stares down at his drink and sighs, mumbling: 'It's like nobody else has noticed. Nobody else has to fight these things. Nobody even knows they're there. I don't know whether it's intentiomal or not. I'd hate for everyone to be so selfish. But does everyone want me to die or something? Can they just not see them?" His eyes begin to well up. He's still staring down at his glass. He hates eye contact during these moments. "I mean, at least I have you lot. What do they look like to you? Did you see... them...?'he gulps."
"He's looked up at this point, scanned around the bar... and nobody's there. 'N-no...' he mumbles in disbelief, shooting up from his chair. It feels like he's drunk, but he's actually in a nightmare. They didn't just disappear."
"His red eyes dart as he knocks over his tilted, broken glass to stagger for the door. 'No.' He states with gritted teeth. The stools don't dance in his honour."
"'NO.' he staggers outside and shields his eyes from the obliterating darkness upon him, street lights, that usually generate real electricity, dimming by the second. He looks around to the dark streets in front of all the dark homes. Nobody's around. It's all a ghost town.
"He doesn't take it well. 'NO! NO!' he cries loudly, his weak voice echoing through the absent roads, his red eyes blocking his vision. He grunts as he circles round ; anything to avoid the merciless silence. As selfish as they are, at least they cause enough distractions to keep his mind from eating itself."
"Then, as he stops to collect his fractured breathing, he feels a warm gust of wind battle against his neck. He starts to piece it together but he's so exhausted of the same thing that he almost brushes it off. Until he hears it. A clear, crisp voice at the back of his head. 'Run'. And it convinces him."
"Heart pounding, he ducks and rolls on the ground just in time to hear a cracking sound in the concrete behind him. It's an ice pick hovering above the air. That's when he knows for sure: Solitudine."
"It's another monster. This one's different. You'd think it's easier to defeat because you only need to strike it once, but it's much harder considering it's invisible. All you can imagine is that it must be a slender-like figure by how high its weapons are from the ground, and how long and cold its delicate fingers are when it wraps them around your throat. And it's only when you try to fight it that you realise that, no matter what, you'll be alone in every fight."
"The wind whistles as Solitudine sneaks back into the shadows. At this point, its just Cappio holding his blood-stained sword in front of his darting eyes and tiptoeing around in circles. He tries to breathe and focus on the echoing sound of his footsteps rather than the doubting thoughts in his own head. Of course, it's unavoidable here, but I suppose, from his point of view, it might be worth it to try."
"He can't stop the whispers, more silent than the chilling air. You can hear them clear as day:
"You'll never defeat it by yourself."
"It's the silence that's driving it. You wouldn't be able to hear them otherwise."
"Nobody cares if you live or die after this."
"He shakes his head and tries to focus, eyes darting left to right."
"You'll be on your own for every fight you face."
"Silence. It's more deadly than any monster he'll ever face. It's like puppet strings on the mind, keeping it from helping him listen out for Solitudine."
"They only keep you around for protection. They don't want your company."
"He doesn't want to hear it. He doesn't want to know it. But he knows it's true. And he has to focus anyway."
"Who would wanna be your cellmate in the first place?"
"Well, 'Cellmate' is a bit of a strong word for this place but-"
"Who would notice if you just fucked off?"
"As in leave? Hop the wall? I'm sure someone would cry for thirty minutes before they'd all mov-"
"Who will remember your name thirty years after you go?"
"... The voices really should have stopped now, I guess the monster's just load-"
"Nobody will help you. Nobody will love you."
"Why hasn't it stopped yet? The dialogue should be over according to-"
"You might as well just-"
"There we go! I felt a rumble, thank god. Well, not really. And not just because it means the monster's arrived.
"He hears the brief footsteps, but isn't quick enough to stop himself from being punched and knocked over by the monster's ice cold knuckles. He quickly gets up and blindly stabs at the empty air, but it had already gotten out of his way."
"It's only a punch, but Cappio's now got blood trickling down the right side of his face, and he can probably feel his health decrease. See, its arm is like rock hard ice. What's worse, he knows exactly what it's gonna do next. And the only thing between him and a bombardment of empty air is one blind, red sword."
"He can tolerate the hits. Hell, he wants them. He just hates the way Solitudine hypnotises him by planting doubts in his head before blasting him with whatever. It was terrifying, and nobody was there to keep it from being heard. It felt like Solitudine was always there, stalking him, waiting patiently for the moment he gets wrapped up in the quiet. It's times like these that he'd down a whole bottle just to shut his eyes at night."
"He hears small, echoing footsteps again, but this time, he darts right, narrowly dodging the strike before swinging his sword up with both hands and slamming down on the concrete floor. Hands shaking. Eyes bloodshot. Hair dripping as the sky begins to open up and thunder down with rain."
"He doesn't want to play this game anymore. His breathing fragmented as he blindly swings his sword at every direction, moving up and down the road, teeth gritting. He watches with a satisfactory look in his eyes as each droplet of rain trickles and flies off his sword, the blood stains slowly dripping away into nothingness."
"He can do this on his own, y'know? He's never needed anyone for this before. He doesn't need anyone. For anything. After all, he's fucking CappioMan! He's supposed to be the saviour of this doomed ghost town. And no matter what, he's won. He'd be fine if he just-"
"Then it happens. He nearly drops his sword in shock when he feels its ice cold fingers wrap strongly around his throat. He's yanked off of balance and pulled onto the ground. And he could only struggle slightly, enduring every breath Solitudine makes that presses against his skin, every muscle in its hands as it clutches its prize, every heartbeat of his that drops."
"He couldn't get to his sword in time. It's now knocked on the flooded floor. And so he's locked in this awkward laying position as the thing chokes the life out of him. The metallic smell of Cappio's sweat mixed with the pouring rain staining the air. His bleeding mouth glaring as he grits his teeth. The puny tears that escape from his red eyes as he scans the town and realises he's gonna die alone."
"And then he remembers. The knife in his left pocket."
Heartbeat.
"With his one aching, shivering free hand, he reaches for his pocket, his arm brushing against his burned cape in the process.
Heartbeat.
"He runs his thumb against the sharp end of the knife, just to make sure he can still feel."
Heartbeat.
"And he raises the dagger up to level with his chest."
Heartbeat.
"And it's here that he first catches a glimpse of the monster's figure, as his dilated eyes catches sight of droplets of rain bouncing off of a seemingly invisible wall - presumably its arm."
"He can't stop the knife from shaking in front of him."
Heartbeat.
"He spots where Solitudine's wrists are - right next to his own. But he's struggling to breathe at this point, and he feels he's gonna cough up all his insides if this thing ever lets go.
"He lowers the knife so it dangles just above its invisible wrist, as well as his wrist, held in place next to it."
Heart-beat.
"And he thinks about it. And by god, he thinks about it. His gulping throat desperately wants to mutter any form of last words out, just in case. And he starts to think, maybe it would be better if... he just..."
"I mean, the monster's gonna come back either way. They always... do... every time. But he won't. He doesn't... get to come back."
"But let's say he doesn't. His eyes are bleeding. His heart's stopped. His fingers losing grip. But he manages to blindly plunge his knife deep into Solitudine's wrist. And he coughs up his own sigh of relief as the monster lets go of his neck and starts shrieking. But he can't stop now."
"His puppet thoughts clouding his head, he keeps stabbing and stabbing until he feels the cold blood spurt out of its arm, and until he feels its body slump on the floor."
"You're gonna die alone."
"He coughs up blood and watches as it floats down the rain-soaked road. It's pouring so hard, he can only barely see the wall in front of him. He can't even see the body, even after it's dead. And he starts thinking about just... hopping the wall. Could he even do that? I mean, he always thought it'd be so much easier if he could just - fly up to the sky and soar past the walls that keep him in. Put something caught his eye. In the blitz of one of the fights, a section of the wall must've been broken. A small hole, not big enough to see the other side . Not even big enough to squeeze through. But now he knows There's a way out."
"And his thoughts are cut off by the welcoming sound of people shuffling and bustling on the streets again, the rain weakening, his thoughts drowning out. He knows it can't keep going like this."
"January 12th, 1:12am"
"He can't wait. His visible breath invades the chilling air in the dead of night, and his soulless eyes are glued to the wall. He's contemplating just fucking off and leaving this town. I mean, it's obvious that he has to, right? Those monsters are gonna keep coming back and coming back and coming back until he can't anymore. There's no point fighting it anymore, and he doesn't want to see himself become a slave for those monsters."
"But he knows Vita is coming. He can sense it. The worst of them all. It'll throw anything and everything at you until you die. And up until this point, he's avoided ever daring to face it and its problems head on. Because, what's the point, right? He's just some Superman wannabe in a costume. But of all the people in this city to deal with it, shouldn't he be the one...?"
"And if he was gonna try and hop the wall... how would he do it? He doesn't even know if he can fly or not at this point. He can't break it down. His only other option is to try and climb, or use one of the nearby skyscrapers to launch himself above. But looking at it, he might be able to climb the wall. And he'll have no regrets. Even if he doesn't know what kind of towns and monsters are waiting for him on the other side. B-but does that matter? What if there's absolutely nothing?"
"Anyway, I'm rambling on. You get the idea, hopefully. Well, hopefully not. Anyway, he hears crashing in the distance. A few explosions. Nothing new. Except, a loud shriek peeks over the white noise that can only ever be heard from Vita."
"Th-they deserve it. They all deserve to know what he goes through every day. He steps towards the wall..."
"...but let's say he doesn't. He marches up towards the dirt-ridden hills with his stained sword and tattered red cape and his messy dark hair and his tight blue shirt hiding behind the cape and his clenched fists and his still legs. He knows for a fact, that if he loses this... it's game over."
"It cuts to him standing still, eyes fixated on the hill ahead. He sees something in the distance. Not Vita. That's much bigger. This... isn't even in the shape of a monster. It's in the shape of a box."
"He cautiously tiptoes towards the thing and it becomes more evident that what he's looking at is a TV. And the noise radiating from it is more clear as soon as he reaches it. It's a man and he's on the news. No monsters around. Hell, there's not even anything that the TV's hooked up to. The static tries its best but it can't overpower the man's voice:"
"Francesco Romano, a famous celebrity and graphic designer, was found dead outside his apartment this afternoon after what appears to be an attempt-"
"Static shrieks in the wind again. He turns around and there's more of them, a gang of televisions all circling him and the hill. All saying the same things."
"A local young man from Rome has been stabbed. Locals have been unable to identify the suspect-"
"Day one hundred and forty three, and the italian parliament still haven't reached a decision on-"
"A thousand more people dead in the world, and here's a ton more reasons why you could be next. But first, Helen with the weather-"
"Terrorist planes have been spotted bombing various areas in Italy-"
"And that's when he hears it. He looks up and shields his eyes from the burning sun only to see two planes roaring in the sky. CappioMan decided to duck, the soft and delicate leaves brushing against his bloody hands. He tries to keep track of the planes that continue to circle around him. And that's when he sees them. Two large, black balls dropping, getting closer and closer to him."
"It really makes you wonder why those bombs are getting dropped on him, but that's not the priority right now. He needs to get out of harm's way. He quickly crawls away just in time to watch the bombs fall next to him, turning the bright green leaves to black."
"At this point, there's not much he can do. More planes are circling him. More bombs are dropping. And he can see Vita stomping closer in the distance. There's nowhere to go or run. His only hope is his cursed sword, and there's no guarantee that that won't trigger the bombs anyway. But it's worth the fight, right?"
"Head full of screaming doubts, he reluctantly pulls out his sword and starts batting the black bombs away, swinging it with full force, like it was a baseball bat. Until Vita arrives, darkening the entire hill with black clouds and loud, terrifying screams. At this point, he pays no attention to the bombs. He just wants to drive something into the one thing that beat him senseless for years. So he moves his sword towards it, head clear for once in his whole life..."
"...and then it hits him. One of the bombs, landing on him perfectly. You don't get to see it, but you can see the empty hills afterwards. His sword burned to the crisp. One of his arms and his legs dangling on the edge of the hill. And it's unbelievably quiet, like his death just... calmed everything. But he's gone. His soul finally caught up to him. But at least he didn't do anything stupid like hop the wall, right?... I'm being sarcastic, if you can't tell. Point is, he's dead."
"CappioMan's standing still, eyes fixated on the hill ahead. He sees something in the distance. Not Vita. That's much bigger. This... isn't even in the shape of a monster. It's in the shape of a tree. His eyes flutter for a moment as his scarred and bruised legs stagger towards the top of the hill. The leaves are much longer and greener this time. And the tree in the middle stands tall and unwavering, even in the cooling wind."
"The sun's beating down his neckband the time his shaking hands reach out to touch it. And you see him smile for the first time in this whole story. Because there's no sound of terrified screams or growling monsters or toppling Jenga buildings. It's just him and the beautiful sight of an untampered life. Sparkling rivers flowing in the distance. Bushes lightly dancing in the wind. Delicate fingers of sunlight poking through the leaves. The cool air on his shoulders."
"Although, he's almost immediately snapped out of his trance when he notices the air getting warmer and warmer. His eyes stop squinting for a single moment and he's caught off guard by a huge red ball of heat glowing on his face. He stumbles and trips back, looking around the hill only to realise... the whole place is on fire."
"He struggles to believe it at first. And I mean, wouldn't you? How in the hell does the whole thing catch fire in seconds? Thing is, he knows how. It's Vita. He looks up and sees the clouds merge to form a lurking grey blob waiting to strike. A blinding light raging from underneath."
"Biting his lip, he jumps out of the way, landing underneath the burning tree just in time to see the lightning crash down onto the hill, echoing a sound louder than the growling of any monster. Even Vita, who was sitting there, snarling its dagger-sharp teeth. At this point, he's had enough."
"He charges, dodging the barrage of lightning strikes to drive his sword deep into Vita's leg. He grits his teeth and grunts as loud as his head could take. It's so satisfying after all these years, even though it barely makes a dent. Barely a drop of its filthy blood on the burning sound. He sees red. Everything around him has turned to a filthy shade of black, to the point where he doesn't even recognise the strikes in the ground anymore, or the violent river current."
"He tries to dodge a very clear oncoming attack, but he just doesn't have the energy after plunging his sword. Besides, he was ready, anyway. Last thing he sees is Vita's long claws as it raises him up from the ground, high enough for the sharp hands of the clouds to send down an electric shockwave to finish him off. And there's not much coming back after that, so the fact that CappioMan's dead is the only thing that's clear right now."
"CappioMan stands still, seemingly out of breath. But he doesn't have a single scratch on him. He's facing the hill for - seemingly - the first time. He has his sword in both hands this time as he spots something much bigger than anything he's seen before on the hill. It's as tall as the skyscrapers back in his town. It's not Vita, it's a lot more... silvery. And as he approaches it, it becomes so much clearer as to what the hell it is."
"It sits there, towering over a wall. Its eyes are closed, robe messy and tugging at the invisible wind, long, black hair flowing behind him. Glorious, outstretched beard. Stone sword. It's a statue."
"Brings a whole new meaning to 'God's watching over you' don't it? It's exactly how he always imagined God to be. The rubble echoes around them as it trickles like teardrops away from the frozen statue. Each piece of rubble bounces off the graffiti-ridden wall, which makes a louder cracking sound with each passing second. And Cappio whips his sword out when he notices. The wall paves the way for the statue as it rips apart, and the statue topples over carelessly, lifelessly. Without interference. It's like the stone just... gave up."
"Cappio wants to be badass and shove his long sword through its eye socket as it topples over, but he just doesn't have the energy. He's forced to move out of the way as it falls, smashing into pieces among the dying grass. Cappio runs his dirt-ridden fingers along its decapitated head, which stares at him longingly. Well, he guesses anyway. Nobody can work out what kinda face the dude's tryna pull."
"He's so shaken up, he doesn't even notice the sky loom darker and darker, the shadow of Vita almost consuming him before he stares back up at it with red eyes. He's had enough of that bitch at this point."
"It advances, treading carelessly on Jesus's smashed arm. And he's not afraid. He jumps up on the wall, using all his body strength to balance himself on top of the wall before whipping out his sword once more and bending his knees. The monster growls as he positions himself, focusing on how comforting it is to just feel the unmoving wall under his boots. Then he launches himself."
"Not too far. But far enough for him to reach where Vita's chest is supposed to be. He makes sure the sword's pointy end is facing outward before jumping and burying his sword deep into its chest. He doesn't even bother looking down to the far ground below. He's had enough of Ansia for one day."
"But as he finally does it, Vita's body disappears, sending him toppling to the ground. Although, you can't imagine the satisfaction it gives him to see the dark red blood be visible on his sword. It's not an illusion, he did stab it."
"Pain permeates through his shivering body as he lands. He outstretches his wrinkled hands, expecting to ruffle the tiny grass beneath him, just to remind him of something living. But instead, he feels his own hair, spread out on the ground like that. He never imagined himself to be bald, but in all honesty, he's too tired to care. He can't even bring himself to get up before the nightmarish face of Vita appears again, above him, amongst the invisible stars and atmosphere, ready to finish him off."
"And all he can focus on is a faint ringing in his ears, lime a beep. Every last second. Before Vita takes Jesus's sword and drives it home, finally. And there's a smile on CappioMan's face as he stops breathing for good."
"CappioMan trembles amongst the chilling air as he leans on the edge of the hill again. He whips out his sword, prepared for whatever comes. Not a speck of blood on the damned sword. But he takes no notice. He squints as he tries to outline what's ahead of him. And his face turns pale as he recognises the faces. And the shirts. And the heads. They're all there. Everyone from town, all with stern, onlooking faces staring him down, their eyes like a thousand daggers to his posture."
"Vita's there, just chilling in the middle. Like killing him is gonna be nothing. But it's only here that he starts to catch his chest, trying to overtake the overwhelming sense of dread washing over him. Everybody's watching. Not bothering to help or cheer. They're just... expecting him to win. He can see it in their eyes. The amount of hope dying if they see him die. The anger in their gritted teeth if he doesn't get through it."
"And he's trembling again, even though the sun's beating down his neck. Vita slams its fist down, but Cappio's ready. He crouches, knees weak, and sticks his sword up, so when the monster slams down on him, its stabbing itself. It shrieks as it staggers back, even though barely a single drop of blood comes from it."
He goes to strike again, but he feels his sword being snatched away from his sweating hands. And it catches him off guard to the point that he falls on the pricking strands of grass that sticks to him when he gets up. Suddenly, large groups of the crowd are holding him down. He's screaming and he's squirming... but no matter how hard I press down, he can't overpower them. His arms and legs are left held down helplessly whilst Vita onlooks. It grabs the sword of Jesus and taunts, looming the stone sword over him... and all he can do is watch."
"It drives the sword deep into his throat, and he watches with burning eyes as the blood spurts from under him. It doesn't stop. The only thing left in him is a burning hatred for the careless men and women and chdren holding him back. He was winning, if that was even the definition of winning. Barely even made a dent, poor son of a bitch. And he tries to mumble the words to one of the psychopaths holding his left arm, but he can't make out the words before every little bit of hatred pours out of his veins, to stain the grass and get absorbed by the surrounding cursed soil. At least a part of him is in the grass, even if he'll never get to know now he's stopped breathing."
"CappioMan giggles as he stands next to the hill again, wearing a cape he fashioned from his grandma's old rugs and holding a large stick with both hands. He's covered head-to-toe in mud from his mum's small garden he lived in when he was seven. He's tiny. And he has the cutest giggle as he runs, wild and free, up the hill. Perhaps he could roll down it again when he reaches the top, or shake hands with the dog-like creature ... or just stare out into the gleaming sunset once it gets dark."
"Once he reaches the top, he's grown a bit. He's now seventeen, with thick, round glasses and the same tattered cape. His muscular body tenses up at the sight of Vita as it snarles back at him. He thinks he's unstoppable with his cute little butter-knife and tattered sneakers and... one of his dad's old shirts. He reaches for the textbook in his pocket, his only source of comfort. Because he's dumb enough to think he knows everything about the monster already."
"The sun sinks as he charges towards the thing, and he's back to his 29 year old self. Beaten down, sunken eyes, beating heart. His famous sword is stopped when the monster knocks him off his feet, pries the sword from his cold hands and crushes it with one sharp hand."
"And the orange-pink glow sparkles off of his wrinkled face as he stares at the non-existent sword in terror. His shaky hand rubs his grey hair as his boots linger in the floppy, burned out grass."
"And he can't help but notice the sun sinking too soon as the darkness engulfs the monster and him, not a dark cloud in sight. Only the stars and atmosphere. And he's struggling to breathe straight. He links his chapped, wrinkled lips and staggers up, punching the monster with his frail arm. Not even a nuisance to Vita. His decayed walking collapses on the ground, and as does he. And Vita barely puts any work in as it drives the sword of Jesus through his messed up stomach. And if you ask me, CappioMan did absolutely nothing wrong. He just didn't have enough time to overpower it."
"CappioMan's standing on the edge of the hill again, cape blowing furiously in the stabbing wind. His knees tremble as he approaches the hill, a wild look in his eyes. He sees a thousand silhouettes in the distance, all looking exactly the same. All very... unhuman. If you know what I mean."
"He can see his final breaths as he marches and reaches the top of the hill, and he instinctively grabs his sword when he finally sees what they are. It's the first time that he wishes it was just Vita. Just one monster to take care of with his trusty sword. But now there's... there's dozens of Vita. All snarling their yellow teeth. All digging their dirt-ridden claws into the scarred grass."
"See, Cappio doesn't really know how to feel about this. Because everyone knows you only ever get one Vita at a time. Well, most people know that. What's in the creature is what's stumped everyone for centuries. So one of them is real. And the other monsters are just... an illusion?"
"Red eyes squinting at the glowing sunset, he whips out his clean sword and rushes for the nearest monster, plunging his sword deep into its filthy claws. However, he has to pull away again when they all come charging in his direction. He tries to fend them all off with his sword but... every poke, it's like nothing to them. They barely even pay attention to it."
"And they're all synchronised, with every growling and snarl. And it becomes even more apparent when they all throw back their fists, ready to slam it down like Livore did. They circle around him like hungry vultures, knowing he barely stands a chance."
"They're all ready to slam down and he's got nowhere to run. So he only has one option. He has to try it out. So he pulls his arms to his sides and launches himself up in the air, towards the sky, forcing his eyes firmly shut so he can see nothing other than the impending darkness among him."
"He opens his eyes slowly... and his breath is stolen when he sees it. The sky and the endless clouds laid out in front of him. The bellowing wind holding him up, holding him firmly in place. Cape clapping wildly for him. Sheieking monsters glaring at him from below. He can fucking fly."
"And for a while, he just stays there. Floating, his weak legs dangling hopelessly. Honestly, he thought it'd be more glorious than this."
"But now he doesn't know what to do. Does he fly away? Does he stay put? Does he... try to beat up all the monsters or... what? What is he doing here?"
"What is he doing here?"
"What's his mission in the first place. He's forgotten, he knows he doesn't have to be there. He always has the option to just... not fight anymore. And he makes the choice every single time to march himself to the top of this godforsaken hill and kill his spirits. He doesn't know what the monsters can do. Or what's in store if he doesn't fight. Or what he can do. Hell, he didn't know he could fly until ten seconds ago. How pathetic."
"Now he's rising up, higher and higher, to the point that the clouds seem a safe distance away. And he isn't controlling anything. And the monsters seem at peace, prancing around the hill. Barely paying attention to him anymore. And so the question has to be asked... can he actually fly? Or is he rising to the great beyond?"
"He has no clue about anything. He likes to pretend he knows about what goes on, but he doesn't know a damn thing. So he just shuts his shaking eyes and lets the wind carry him home. You only see a glimpse of his limp body on the floor below before he's gone... for good."
"Holy hell, man. You suck at this." Todd pipes up, his voice raspy as he chokes on his cigarette.
I don't respond immediately. I just smirk, shake my head and turn to face my friend.
"Why don't you try, then?" I watch as Todd grins and nods.
"Fine man, but only once. This is getting boring." He agrees, flicking his cigarette in the bin.
"CappioMan's staring up at the rising sun again as he stands on the edge of the hill, damaged sword in hand. This time, he's determined. He's running up towards the hill, trying not to stumble over the uncut grass. He's not alone this time, though. He looks to his side and spots tons of other Superheroes... just like him. They're charging with all their different sword and different-coloured capes, all with the same beaten down face as him."
"He matches their march as they all reach Vita. There must he hundreds of Superheroes all facing up the hill. Many make the mistake of immediately charging. But see, Vita doesn't give a shit. It'll just swipe each and every one of them out the way like they're gnats on the wall. It doesn't care for any of them."
"Amd CappioMan thought he was special. He thought he was the only one with a problem with Vita. Fucking idiot. He's not special. He's not the only Superhero in the world. He's not the only one that has to deal with the monsters ; it just feels like he is."
"And Cappio... immediately charges with them... for some reason. And he immediately gets crushed underneath the weight of the monster after he's swept off his feet. Boy, that was quick. He's still alive but, there's no winning. He's just left to choke on his own blood and watch as hundreds of better Superheroes try to deal with it."
"Holy hell, man. You suck at this game." I Sit back on my chair with a long sigh of satisfaction before snatching the controller off of Todd.
"No way, man. We must've tried like ten times. It's impossible. I get that it's meant to be the final boss but... c'mon! You made the fucking game! If you can't beat it, how do you expect your players to?" He runs his short hair in frustration, glaring back at me.
"That's the point... you can't beat it. It's impossible." I can't help but smile a little at the genius of my creation.
"Dude, what are you on about?" He sighs, his eyes darting around my pig sty of a room full of crumpled up papers and designs that I never bothered to clean out.
"This is how I designed it. I programmed it so that the boss is unbeatable. There's no way to win." I nod, my voice noticeably monotone.
"No offense dude, but that's stupid. Who's gonna wanna play this game if you can't win?" He laughs hysterically between words, a slight hint of insanity in his voice.
"I said you can't beat it. I didn't say you can't win." I spit indignantly, grabbing my controller off the ground and starting the level again. I needed to show him. He didn't need to understand. Not until after.
"Then how do you beat the game?" He asks, crouching over to fixate his eyes on my tiny television screen.
"By hopping the wall, of course." I shrugged, as the level restarts, and CappioMan is left staring at the broken wall once more.
"You have the option to do this the entire game. You've always had the choice to opt out. It's incredibly simple when you think about it." I watch as I force CappioMan to use his remaining strength to climb the wall. When he reaches the top, all he sees is surrounding fog. He can barely see the ground beneath him."
"That's hardly a happy ending. There's no way to even know where he's going." Todd explains naively. He doesn't understand yet."
"I mean, yeah, but it's gotta be better than staying and fighting Vita, right? Of course it is." I shrug, watching as he grabs his coat and heads for the door.
"Where're you going?" I ask. He turns to me with a disgusted look on his face.
"Francesco, you're my friend, and I appreciate that you put a fuck ton of work into this-"
"Three years." I cut him off quickly, staring down at my drink in shame.
"...Three years..." he continues, "But it's a shitty game. That ending sucks, and none of it makes any sense. Why is he even fighting any of the monsters in the first place?" He asks. His voice seems calm enough but his eyes are wild.
"You're precisely right, that's... true. Why is he fighting? The player has the option to hop the wall, or fly away, at any time." I explain. No matter what he'd say, I was gonna be proud of my work. He doesn't have to get it. He doesn't even have to play. I haven't even looked at how well the game has sold in the past week. That doesn't mean anything.
"Sorry, man. Hate to say it but... the game stinks. Graphics are alright but..." he opens the wooden door, leaving it slightly ajar as he tries desperately not to hurt my feelings.
"Oh, come on. If you're gonna leave, at least leave on a high note. Say something nice about it. You're gonna regret it... I might not see you for a long while." I beg. I'd told him I was going on holiday once the game had finished.
"I mean..." he stutters, his face getting redder. "I admire how hard you work with projects like these. You... lock yourself up in your room for years working on these. You're dedicated. Especially with this one, I've... never seen you work harder on another game." He gives a weak smile, as if hoping for my approval.
"This one especially. I just needed to get it all out. For my own sake." I nodded. It's clear that I haven't slept in days, checking everything worked.
"Thank you. I'll see you around at some point." I concluded, showing him out of my apartment.
I just lean against my door and sigh, a few lonely tears escaping my weary eyes. The window's beckoning me, and I stumble over there slowly and surely. Knees weak and hesitant.
It's the blue screen that catches me off guard. It comes after the credits. Lines after lines of text, listing off reasons... or excuses. As to why.
Anyone who speaks Italian won't even need to see it. They'll understand. But I needed to leave something behind. The game it's... my purpose. My legacy. My last thoughts encapsulated on a disc that everyone will hopefully be using for decades in my honour. I smile at the thought.
I only bother reading the first few lines of it. I was mainly drunk when programming it in. And then the wall obscures my view of the TV. I look in front of me, and my feet are dangling out the window. I look down amongst the bustling streets, careless, selfish people in their impatient cars. And I'm not afraid to stop fighting it. I've been fighting the urge for years.
My palms aren't sweating. My teeth aren't gritting. The thoughts have been settling in my head for years now. I just let my eyes fixate on the dilapidated buildings and overwhelming noises... before finally letting go.
And suddenly, I'm at peace, swimming with the warm embrace of the air, dancing with the thought of being among the clouds above. The great beyond . My tattered clothes waving in front of me like bunting. My soul giggling. My pain dissolving.
And it was like, in that moment, staring up at the clouds that were getting further away from my view, and awaiting the warm concrete's welcome below...
I thought I could fly.