The wind howls through the broken skyline, carrying the scent of smoke and regret. A tattered cape, once a banner of hope, clings to the ruins like a ghost refusing to move on. He stands in the shadows, watching the city he once swore to protect crumble beneath the weight of its own corruption.
No name. No mask. Just the weight of failure hanging heavy on his shoulders.
They called him a savior once. A beacon in the dark. But even the brightest lights burn out eventually. The battle wasn’t lost in some grand final stand or a villain’s well-played hand—it was a slow, grinding war of compromises and impossible choices. A war no hero could win.
Now, the city belongs to them—the ones he fought against, the ones who learned patience was deadlier than any fist. And yet, something inside him won’t let go.
He could leave. Disappear into the night like the stories say he did.
Or he could do what he always has.
Fight.
This piece is for those who understand that heroes don’t always rise—sometimes, they fall. But even in the ruins, something lingers. A symbol. A promise. A chance.
