In the midst of darkness, even the slight source of illumination is considered great. Rain cascaded relentlessly from the heavens, each droplet orchestrating a symphony of pitter-patter as if celestial beings were applauding. The earthy fragrance of damp soil mingled with the heavy, moisture-laden air. Sinister, sickly clouds loomed ominously overhead, mirroring the somber ambiance. The cacophony of pigs' squeals reverberated from all directions, echoing through every crevice and corner. Amidst this chaotic symphony, a man knelt, his knees grazing against the wet concrete, slicing through his pants and tearing his skin. Thunder resounded through the firmament as if the mythological gods demanded an encore. His pallid complexion betrayed the loss of blood, a crimson path tracing from the street to the desolate construction site, testifying to the magnitude of his struggle. Hollow lacerations marred his body, none of them striking a vital area. Throughout his futile battle, the man traversed a gamut of emotions, from desperate pleas for assistance to defiant resistance. But what more could be expected from a hero of lower stature? Gazing up at the figure donning a pig mask crafted from human skin, he rose from the ground, his hands ascending to eye level before becoming ensnared by jagged rocks.
"Why am I being punished like this?" His anguished scream reverberated, his attempts to move thwarted. A sword pierced his leg, severing flesh and sinking into the sodden ground. "P-please… my wife and children depend on me." The rain intensified, as if beseeching for a merciless execution. Locking eyes with the figure, his body stiffened, the sinister crimson gaze plunging into the depths of his soul. "Did they hire you? I never wanted this path! B-but I had no choice!" A soiled, grimy hand forced its way into his mouth, its black glove caked with dirt.
Exerting immense force, the glove tore apart the connective tissues and muscles, rending the jaw from its moorings, the sodden glove now drenched in saliva twisting and dislocating it. "Don't worry, they will join you soon." Its voice was low and menacing, devoid of any guilt as if they had rehearsed this sinister act in front of a mirror for months. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck nearby, illuminating the darkened sky and causing a cacophony of car alarms to blare in unison. With a glimmer of hope in his eyes, the victim regained the light in his eyes, only to have his head brutally severed from his body. The detached head tumbled across the wet ground, sinking into the never-ending deluge of rain and mud. The figure, undeterred by the gruesome sight, stooped down to retrieve the blood-stained blade from the sodden earth. As the crimson liquid dripped down the canal, the figure dragged the lifeless body through the damp soil, leaving a trail of muddied footprints in their wake.
Taking a bite of his sandwich, its moistness and sweetness enhanced by a generous drizzle of honey. However, the taste turned foul, causing him to gag and forcefully expel the meat-filled meal into the nearest trashcan. The delayed putrid stench finally invaded his nostrils, intensifying his disgust. In response, he promptly discarded the entire sandwich and made his way out of his cramped cubicle, desperate to cleanse his mouth of the repulsive aftertaste. His coworkers, amused by his exaggerated reaction, poked fun at him. "Sorry," he muttered, offering a lighthearted bow before joining his colleagues in gathering around the newly installed company television.
Hazel eyes scanned over the words, their gaze flickering across the screen. The fluorescent lights hummed above, casting a sterile glow throughout the office. As the words blurred, the man hunched over the nearest sink, the sound of retching echoing off the tiled walls. The pungent stench of vomit filled the air, mixing with the scent of disinfectant.
A coworker slapped him on the back, breaking the silence. He sighed, the taste of bile lingering in his mouth, and spat down the drain. "Kura still can't handle those pics, huh?" he said, his voice strained.
"It's disgusting," Kura replied, his voice tinged with disgust. "How could someone do something like that to another living being? Now they are trying to scare us by saying the same culprit might be responsible for the missing heroes." He turned on the faucet, the rush of water drowning out his thoughts as he washed away the remnants of his previous meal.
"So lucky to be quirkless, am I right?" the man joked, attempting to lighten the mood. The group responded with a mixture of laughter and awkward stares. "Hey, it's true! We are all quirkless, and secretaries for hire, bouncing from hero to hero." The group dispersed back to their cubicles, leaving him alone with his thoughts. "This is why Kura's getting the promotion!" he muttered to himself.
Peeling himself away from the sink, sweat trickled down Kura's neck, causing a slight chill to run down his spine. "Pardon?" he asked, confused by his coworker's statement. His heart pounded in his chest as he awaited an answer.
His coworker gave him a thumbs up, and Kura closed his eyes, fighting the urge to throw a fit. In no time, his belongings were packed up, neatly boxed, and placed at his feet. Standing in the middle of the lobby, he looked around, taking in the somber atmosphere. A portrait with a face on it surrounded by candles caught his attention. The faces of those around him were stained with tears, their grief palpable, as if they were personally affected by the tragedy that had unfolded.
Gathering his belongings, Kura made his way to the front desk, the sound of footsteps empty to the people crying in the lobby. He requested his new office location; the receptionist guided him with a polite smile. The scent of freshly brewed coffee wafted through the air as they walked, mingling with the faint aroma of ink and paper.
As they walked, the receptionist gave him a rundown of his new permanent spot. "You worked as a hero secretary before, right?" she asked, her voice cutting through the quiet hum of the office. Kura nodded in response, his footsteps faltering as the receptionist suddenly sneezed, a burst of fire escaping her lips.
"Good, don't need to explain that," she said, unfazed by her fiery sneeze. "You'll be mainly in charge of our hero trainees. New faces in the world of heroes versus villains. Low ranks, but if they climb to the top, you'll benefit greatly. Some might be from well-known families, others not. At Mor's company, we strive to be the best hero agency, so if any of our sponsors or top-ranking heroes want anything from you… just do it without question."
Entering his new office, he reveled in the spacious feel, taking in the expansive room with his eyes as he imagined where he could place a comfortable couch for client meetings. The breathtaking view from the window caught his attention, the sight of the cityscape stretching out before him, a reminder of their lofty position on the fifteenth floor out of fifty. However, the drawback was the isolation from any social interaction, a fact that weighed on his mind.
As he absorbed the instructions given to him, a sense of unease crept over him. The warning about drugs and the presence of news anchors because of recent disappearances added an eerie undertone to the atmosphere. And the caution against getting involved with clients, emphasized with a crude phrase, left a bitter taste in his mouth. He forced a smile, his lips twisting at the edges awkwardly, attempting to mask his discomfort.
The feeling of detachment lingered, causing him to retract his smile as he extended his hand for a handshake with the woman before she departed, leaving him alone in the office. With a sense of purpose, he placed his belongings down and began planning his next moves.
Moving his desk to a corner, he adjusted the full-body mirror they had left behind, catching a glimpse of his reflection. The sight of himself in the mirror brought a sense of self-awareness, a reminder of the image he needed to uphold. Picking up a pamphlet with bold, bright yellow letters spelling out "Mors," he delicately folded it, aware of the agency's reputation.
Mors, the renowned top hero agency, was known to all. Their innovative dual-ranking system was their focus. The rankings changed every two months, fostering a healthy sense of competition among the heroes. This stood in stark contrast to the Hero Billboard, underscoring the varied role played by a hero's secretary. It was their duty to assist their clients in their physical, mental, and financial growth, while also managing any rumors or potential threats to their public image. Being a hero held more complexities than the general public realized, for better or worse.
"Oops, forgot to tell you. Tomorrow, the fresh faces come in and since you're going to be their secretary, you'll need to build rapport with them. You'll be with them as they adjust to this company and everything we offer." Dropping the piece of paper, he took out his phone, canceling his plans to drink.
Adjusting his black sleek suit, he smoothed out any imperfections with a lint remover, ensuring his appearance was impeccable. The soft, velvety touch of the fabric against his fingertips brought a sense of confidence. He meticulously straightened his red tie, its vibrant color contrasting against the darkness of his suit. The aroma of his freshly ironed pants filled the air, a faint scent of warm fabric lingering.
Standing tall at one-hundred and ninety centimeters, he took a moment to reflect, holding a photograph of him and his brother. His fingers gently traced the edges of the frame as he silently uttered a prayer, seeking strength and guidance. As he stepped out of his office, his shaggy purple mullet bounced with each stride, a burst of color amidst the monochrome surroundings.
Approaching the elevator, he could hear the faint hum of its mechanisms, a reassuring sound that echoed through the corridor. With his pale hand tightly gripping the cold metal door handle, he hesitated for a moment. At twenty-seven, he had secured a position at one of the most prestigious hero agencies, but little did he know that opening this door would be akin to stepping into a treacherous abyss where one couldn't tell who was a hero or a villain.
After fiddling with the name for a few months, I present The King of Pigs. Rated M for mature themes.
Check my profile for the form, and if you do send in a character please title it as: (The King of Pigs, oc's name). Send it via pm!
For reference unlike my other story, the main cast currently is 6-8 and it's not first come first serve! With that out of the way, people can submit two characters! Four or five will be newbie heroes and two or three will be seasoned heroes!
Just because your character is a hero doesn't mean they have to be a good hero! Something The Boys/Gen V does well.
Finally, this story takes place in the distant future. Descendants can be done if done well.
Any questions shoot me a pm, the deadline is Jan. 20th.