Dorkpool: The first time I’ve written a superhero based Creepypasta, and the first time the title I gave it in the Writer’s Workshop ended up being the title I used.
Mirror: That’s nice. Is it any good?
Dorkpool: Well, let’s become old and bitter, and Riff this bitch to find out.
He was a hero at one point.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Until the 90s, when he became an anti-hero.
Citizens loved him, villains hated him, and the world almost worshipped him. He was nearly as powerful as God himself, and definitely more benevolent.
Mirror: That’s really not saying much.
But that was a long time ago.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): In a galaxy far, far away.
Now he’s a normal man, a bitter man.
Mirror: (Narrator): He basically became a poor version of Donald Trump.
His powers fled him some time ago, the result of some egomaniacal super villain. At the time, he still had hope for humanity. “So what if my powers are gone?” he had thought. “At least people would try to live up to my example. They would try to live by what I taught them.”
He was wrong about that. Things seem worse than ever.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Reality TV got popular.
People seem to have forgotten him, and the example he set. Rather than help each other, people hurt each other, rob each other, and kill each other.
Mirror: Apparently they don’t rape each other, so there’s an upside.
For a while, he still hoped that maybe things would get better, that someone, anyone, would remember what heroism was. But after seeing so much hate, so much death and crime and destruction, his hope died a painful death.
Now he’s an old and bitter man.
Dorkpool: (Narrator): He yells at kids to get off his lawn.
A man whose thoughts revolve around how hopeless things have become. A man with no one and nothing left to live for, but refuses to die.
When the three men approached him on a crowded sidewalk full of people in broad daylight, the man didn’t notice. He was too busy thinking about how terrible the world had become. Most of his thoughts revolved around that these days.
Mirror: (Man): This new world, with those kids and their rap music. They’re why the world sucks! Back in my day, we had malaria and we liked it!
He only noticed when two men went behind him, and one went in front. The one in the front, a tall man with a scar directly under his eye, said, “Gimme your money.”
Dorkpool: He didn’t even say ‘please’? How rude.
“I don’t have any on me,” The old and bitter man said, while wondering what drove these men to crime. Would they have become criminals if he were still a hero? Does it even matter?
The man with the scar frowned, and said, “That’s a damn shame. That was the only thing that might’ve kept you alive.”
Mirror: (Old man): Try and kill me, sonny! I’ll be dead before you lay a hand on me!
The two men behind the old man grabbed him, and all four of them went into an alley. As this was happening, the old and bitter man was yelling for help. There were many people around, after all, walking around in a rather large crowd. One would hear him, one would help. Right?
Dorkpool: (Narrator): Find out next week! Same bat time, same bat channel.
No one did. Some turned at the sound of his screaming, but none of them did anything.
A punch in the face quickly silenced him,
Dorkpool: (Goon): I AM A MAN! –punch-
and the goons proceeded to beat him.
As he was knocked to the ground, and being beaten to death, he realized something:
Mirror: (Narrator): He missed the early bird special.
Any hope for this world died the day he stopped being a hero.
Dorkpool: Hope’s dead, Jim.
Mirror: Well what?
Dorkpool: You asked if it was good. What do you think?
Mirror: It’s pretty good. Good spelling, grammar, interesting ideas. It’s not perfect, but it’s alright.
Dorkpool: Thank you. Is this narcissistic?
Mirror: What, an alternate version of you telling you that your story is pretty good?
Dorkpool: So, what do you guys think? Was the story good? Was the Riff good? Do you wish we’d die like hope? Leave your thoughts in the comments below.