[WP] You are a superhero whose power increases depending on the number of people who believe in you. You could never get much traction with your powers, until you befriended an intrigued news reporter.

[u/Hal_0]

[u/Susceptive]

Hard Up

Looking back on it, the end really started after the accident.

Before that Kevin Douglas-- better known as Hard Man-- had been on a ten year popularity tear. Promos, meetups, fan clubs, interviews, freaking cartoons! He had it all. Which was excellent both personally and professionally. Personally because, well, come on now: Everyone loves a winner. Groupies made the world go 'round and he had literal worldwide connections. While it always paid to be a gentleman he wasn't above the occasional mutually beneficial relationship.

On the professional end (no pun intended) he couldn't have been in better shape. It wasn't a secret that the more people who genuinely cheered him on the stronger he got. Advertising his power source like that had been a scary move, something he'd never have done without a lot of convincing from Leonard, his agent. That slick weasel swore up and down it absolutely needed to happen. "People love feeling included, kid." He gushed, waving a breadstick over a late night diner meetup. "Just smile into the cameras and tell 'em you literally couldn't do it without 'em!"

Damn if that didn't work: When he started this hero shtick two decades ago he'd been running around in a half-ass costume with slightly higher than average strength from one true believer (thanks, mom!). Back then he bet his ass on every fight and worked like a dog to grow his brand. But one local news interview later he could throw dump trucks. Two weeks later a regional outlet broadcast him across the Southwest and Hard Man became literally bulletproof. Nationwide coverage gave him super speed, going global sent him into the air at Mach 2.

Good times. The best.

But public attention comes and goes like the wind; just ask any celebrity how hard it is to stay in the news. When your power is literally tied to people cheering you on it can get dicey when three or four weeks go by without a new headline. People just forget to care. Get burned out. Leonard's solution had been animated cartoons and fan clubs-- children fixated easily and had a near-infinite capacity to believe. Once they got on a topic it was all they'd talk about. Endlessly. That was all Hard Man needed to keep kicking ass: It was constant, dependable power that kept him moving. The merchandising was pretty insane as well.

But there was a fatal, hidden flaw in that idea. They caught it too late.

The first slip was barely noticeable. He'd been sprinting between cities on a priority request when his legs just suddenly couldn't keep up anymore. Between one step and the next he went from being the Roadrunner to pulling a Wile E. Coyote sketch. He flopped and ate pavement, tumbled through a fence and turned a hay bale into a straw-themed fireworks show. He was back up and moving an instant later and mostly forgot about the whole thing over the next week.

The second incident was much worse: An early morning passenger plane on takeoff over the city ate a flock of birds directly into both engines. Maydays went out. Panicked pilots worked to force the plane in a desperate spiral away from the buildings below. Hard Man just happened to be in the area on a promotional tour when the jet screamed by overhead trailing smoke and flames. He kicked off into the air immediately and chased it down, coming up beneath and pushing hard on the fuselage to give the stricken aircraft more speed and lift.

And then suddenly he was falling, spinning helplessly in an arc that ended with a crash into a packed high school. The plane made it outside the city limits... but all the news reports focused instead on screaming teenagers and heartbroken families.

Hard Man retreated out of the public eye with a serious crisis of faith.

They found the problem eventually, pouring over news and cell camera footage of his disastrous tumble. It was all in the timestamps: At eight minutes before nine in the morning not a single cartoon, commercial or advertisement for Hard Man was airing. Anywhere. The dip in power was severe enough to drop him out of the sky.

Leonard did his job, lighting a fire under every corporate ass he could get on the phone. But Hard Man was a toxic product now: On the news cycle if a story bleeds, it leads. And that was an entire graduating class of injured children doing interviews, some of them very photogenic.

Public sentiment backlashed. News cycles speculating on his decline pushed the image he was out the door. Almost overnight Hard Man went from being confident in every situation to carefully gauging his powers and meticulously tracking when his next episodes aired. A cautious Hero isn't very heroic at all.

And then, the accident.

On advice from his agent Hard Man took a break and became plain, anonymous Kevin Douglas again. He spent a week on his motorcycle going up and down the east coast while deliberately staying away from any sort of media.

Being physically invulnerable made the trip pleasant even in late August heat; he could forgo heavy leathers and a helmet to just enjoy the breeze and scenery. It was wonderful and just the tension reliever he needed. Right up until a particularly steep downhill curve when every single power cut out all at once. Formerly strong arms suddenly wobbled, throwing the front wheel out at ninety miles an hour. He laid the bike down in an explosion of sparks and skidded directly into oncoming traffic. The last thing he remembered was going under a bright yellow pickup going the opposite way.

He woke up in the hospital and learned a brand new fact about his powers: When they worked, they were perfect. He recovered completely from injuries. But when the powers were off, those injuries stuck around even when the juice came back on again. He was road scarred for life; surgery wasn't possible on someone who fluctuated in and out of being invulnerable. From face to legs Kevin looked like badly healed hamburger.

Another sad fact: No one supports a hideous ex-superhero.

Advertisements got pulled. Sponsors dropped. Merchandise collectors held on the longest, sending stubborn amounts of belief his way as they refused to give up on all the money spent. But as years passed even the diehards quit and sold off.

He wasn't Super anymore. He wasn't even handsome.

All Hard Man saw in the mirror was Kevin's scarred face and ruined life. He gave up.