Some people will do anything to fit in with the “it crowd.”
We called them posers.
They’ll look at the “it crowd,” and they see how effortlessly cool they are, how everyone loves them, and how the world seems to bend over for them so easily.
Not that any of that is accurate, but we’ll come back to that.
Some of these posers choose to do their best to imitate those who’ve been cool in the past. They slip on a well-worn persona, masking who they used to be. All in an effort to effortlessly fit into the many.
Others just try to put themselves at the cool kids table. They listened to too many children’s shows, and think that they should just be accepted for who they are, no matter how maladjusted their actions. Nothing they are able to do will ever let them fit in.
Then there are those posers that accept who they are. They lurk on the fringes of the crowd, always criticizing those around them for not conforming to the standards set by their “betters.” That too keeps them from ever fitting in.
Because the secret to being one of the cool kids, of being in the “it crowd,” is just to be your fucking self.
To be real.
Impaler ain’t real. He wears an old crusty mask, well-worn with the power of legion. The many, right? Whoever puts on the mask fades into nothingness, and only the same old tired Impaler continues on. Whatever it was that led to his creation is irrelevant.
All that matters is that he’s a poser. A poor imitation of greater men.
SeeSaw ain’t real. Fuck, dude wears facepaint and a clown outfit. But look at his track record. He tried hosting a kids show. He tried running a toy shop. He even tried to supplant a man’s family. He wants to eat at the cool kid’s table so badly.
But all that matters is that he’s a poser. A maladjusted monster unable to be loved.
Banzan ain’t real, neither. Sure, he seems pretty self-assured in who he is, but is he really? Nah, he spends his time skulking around with monsters and robots, telling them the standards they need to conform to. The standards of his betters.
Another poser. A mountain plateaued by his own self-righteousness.
All I see is a trio of posers hunting for scraps off the table of the “it crowd,” of the cool kids.
Of the Bad Mother Fuckers.
See, the difference between me and these boys is that I am real.
I said I’d come back to the truth of the cool kids, so let’s have some real talk with a real motherfucker.
There ain’t nothing effortless about me. I have worked my entire life to be the best goddamned fighter in the world. And make no mistake, people hate my every move. But what you three will find out is that the world seems to bend over for Luke Storm because I don’t try to be like anyone else.
I’m the Real Fucking Deal.
Luke Fucking Storm.
And I ain’t got time for any fucking posers!