In Mannfred Curze, Promo by Mannfred Curze

When we were young, we were told stories of great heroes. People that came before us who did great deeds, that save the innocent and punish the wicked.

We are meant to idolize these people, to hold them up of examples of the greatness we are all capable of being. We have been told that Zeus, the APD, all these others who have done what they could to save people from the very worst that the upper levels have seen.

These heroes supposedly laid the foundation and ground work for us to follow. Setting the examples for which we should be living and leading our lives by. We set these people on pedestals that can never be knocked down. Paragons of virtue, of dignity. People who heard the screams of the downtrodden and leapt into action to save them from whatever injustice the person was suffering.

Your names printed on every paper. Face plastered upon every wall. Deeds shouted in the streets of the heroes and their actions.

But where are you when you matter the most?

I’ve never seen a hero walk among the Bleak in all my life.

This place hear those same stories. See the same heroic faces. Each person left abandoned down here left wondering where are these heroes they hear so much about.

When a woman is raped, they lay crying for a hero to save her.

When the man is murdered for walking on the wrong side of the street, he lays bleeding out wondering where were these heroes who promised to be there for all of us?

Their final thoughts as they give up on any meaning to their lives, is that these heroes are nothing but…


These people mean nothing when the hopeless have everything taken away from them. The hope your type presents rings hollow when life has proven your meaning to be fake.

You’re no hero, because heroes don’t exist. They just created to placate the weak minds. To keep you under the thumb of their creators.

You ask “If not you, then who?”

You have the audacity to say that when you the people here suffer?

If not you, Kaiju. If not heroes like you coming to answer the pleas of the helpless?

In the absence of heroes, they get monsters.

They see my message, they see the broken bodies and bloody corpses hanging out as warnings that this area is under my protection.

I don’t bring hope to these people like some false idol. Like some useless image of heroism and hope.

I present these people not hope, but safety. They know that predators fear the place I walk, of the shadows that creep the darkest corners of the Bleak.

Don’t come here pretending your some saviour, that your tragedy some how makes you a noble symbol.

Because we’ve seen what heroes like you will do.

You will abandon us all over again. Leaving us to the suffering.

So, if not you? Then they get me.