Just another day in this awful reality. Supers fighting each other for shits and giggles, without caring about how the normal people are affected.

A huge fight is going on in the city centre between the forces of "good" and evil. Many "heroes" and villains have gathered for a big fight to see who will take control. Buildings are being brought down, people are getting crushed, dismembered and massacred by the hundreds, the rest are running for their lives.

Amidst the chaos, a dude walks up to a "wounded hero," offering his hand to pick him up from the crater that was created from the impact of the "hero" falling. We all were ready for the classic trope of a retired "hero" coming for help, and so did the "hero", but what happened next was... unnatural.

The guy looked a little off, his whole body, except his head, was covered by a makeshift armour, his arms and legs were full of metal spikes. As the "hero" put his hand out for help, the other guys face turned from a look of calm to a look of rage and hatred and then he started going to work, he put all his strength into every blow and meaning to hurt with every strike that landed.

By the time the guy was done, the "hero" was... not in the best shape, his eyes had popped out of their sockets, his jaw was unhinged, his ribbs were protruding out of his body, his arms and legs twisted and contorted. We were all ready for the earthquake that came after every time that a super kills another by accident, but it never came.

All the supers stopped fighting, a look of true pain took over their faces, and they trembled as if something was seriously hurting them from the inside. Another super filled with anger flew down from the skies and grabbed the guy by the neck and lifted him from the ground. We all stood in shock, not knowing what was happening until a gunshot echoed through the now silent city. The super that grabbed the armoured guy stood their, unflinching, and that was because his brains were now the new paintjob of the wall next to him, but again, no earthquake.

Quickly we realised what had transpired, normal people can kill supers and the supers were outnumber. A riot started hundreds of thousands of people going after supers, people were getting cut in half, some supers had so many bullet holes that they resembled swiss cheese more than anything, people were getting crushed by cars and buildings, supers were getting stabbed to death and violence was everywhere.

At one point the army came and we were ready to face the wrath of our government because it had some supers on payroll so they didn't hurt any normal people. But instead of them attacking us, they helped they started bringing one super down after the other, until they realised it was a losing battle for the supes. Some flew away, some teleported, others dug holes and others started running.

After the fighting was over, we started counting bodies and celebrating our freedom from the false "gods" that were torturing us. But we never found the first guy, nor dead nor alive. We all knew his face. We all knew his legacy, but he was nowhere to be found. We didn't know if he was an angel sent by God or just man fed up with our tormentors, but we all know he was a hero.