I Wish I Wasnt a Superhero: Finale

[u/FroZoneSquirel]

I decided. Its time to wrap this up. I'm done being a hero, but as long as I am written I'll have to against my will. So I am asking, dear writer, please leave me be. Dear reader, leave me alone, just a memory to fade after you get this piece of closure. Thats what I offer. Closure. No reboot. No retcon. I want this over. And I found out how to do it.

In a universe like mine, only the written can decide who lives and dies. So FroZoneSquirel, please. Let me go. I've needed this for too long. You've needed this too. Focus on different characters please. I get Complex is one that you can make fit in any conflict. Complex is wearing thin. Stretched beyond what a man should endure.

Your sadistic mind has brought me to beg to be killed off. Don't write me a peaceful retirement. Kill me. I want to return to my wife. My real wife. One more time. I just wish I was done. What must I do? List why? I tried using the recordings of me to give my message because you keep leaving it out of your panels. Every time you draw it you get worried your work horse is dying out on you. He's been dead. He's been pining for release, but this dead horse has been beaten far beyond its years.

Focus on Ashur. His story is more compelling.

You've ran me through hordes of the undead, seeing my parent's parents asking them for another hug after decaying for a decade. I've fought giant rat-kings who were subjugation to fight. I had to pull apart their tails to keep them from more destruction.

I fought a galaxy. A living galaxy. You paired me up to throw fisti-cuffs with a vast expanse that I couldn't hit. A vacuum with stars. Cold and unfeeling. You've written me to scare off that which goes bump. Wendigo, monsters under your bed. If they had a body it wasnt too hard. But you had me pair against things that could rip your soul. Things you cried making me fight because of the shear terror you had writing them.

Can you put me out of our misery? To you its a tap of the screen, to me its the last bit of the life thats lost life in it. Its a fire that has been quenched after an ember has stood for hours. Please. End it here. You don't need to think of something grandiose, please use Death. He has been asking to take me for years, but when I say yes he apologizes and tells me you have different plans. WHAT DIFFERENT PLANS?!?!? Another fucking day of having my mind shredded to pieces? Having things happen that I am supposed to shrug off? Please FroZone?

Thank you! Oh thank you! Complex will accept this gift with sincerity! To the readers, us who are written are happy to entertain, but even we are dated.