See if you can pick this one up again.

Someone is always trying to bring me back. Just like they did that one night.
I was enjoying my regular evening with my one bottle of Guinness when they approached me. I remembered their faces, their voices. They were almost like ghosts coming to me out of a dead life. Their voices sounded dull and muted, either because of the Guinness or because I really didn’t want to hear what they had to say. But they said it anyway.
“We want you back on the team.”
I slammed my bottle down on the bar and threw my face in my hands. How the hell did they find me? Why the fuck did they come all the way out here? Don’t they know that I’m nothing?
“Why the hell do you want me back?” I grunted.
“Because we need you on the team, we need your fire and we need your mind.”
“MIND? MY MIND?” I began to raise my voice, but the yokels at the bar wouldn’t care. The Packers were on, they were like zombies.
“You want my mind? Why in God’s name would you want that? Haven’t you heard? MAC was rigged. I didn’t win. I’m not some great hero. I’m not the human computer anymore. I’m just a fucking parlor trick. You want to know what the atomic weight of Iron is? 55.845! Wanna know who the 27th President was? William Howard Taft. Also the only president to also be Chief Justice too. Now you tell me how in the hell my little tricks and games are going to fucking help you. If one of you guys wants the heat suit, I’ll give it to you. I don’t even know if it works anymore, hopefully it doesn’t. I don’t wanna use it anymore. I don’t even wanna think about it anymore. But here you guys come in, walking all happy and jaunty and talking about saving the world and fighting for good and all that shit. Well I tell you, that must be really nice for you, to know that you’re lives aren’t built on lies, that you were just one big fake you’re whole life. You were just a goddamn TV show, just someone’s fucking entertainment! My entire life, everything I stood for, was nothing. Everything that was me was just fake, like a tv set, they can just wheel it out. I had my fifteen minutes, that was it, they didn’t need me anymore. I was just there for entertainment value. I don’t have any super powers, I just have money. I’m not like you guys, I don’t belong with you guys. Like I said, if one of you wants the heat suit, go ahead and take it. I don’t want it. I don’t need it. I’m worthless now. Just a burned out shell. People come up to me and they ask me if I really am who I am, and I say no, that they are wrong, because that wasn’t me. I wasn’t that guy on the TV. I wasn’t the ‘human computer.’ I’m nothing but a lie, nothing but a big fat fucking joke.”
“We need you to come out of your shell and fight with us again. It hasn’t been the same without you,” Jade said, trying to comfort me.
“You know what hasn’t been the same? Trying to live. Always having to hide from the god damn paparazzi because they love to get pictures of me trying to hide with my shaggy hair. People love to see how the mighty have fallen. I can’t escape their flashbulbs as they cluck their tongues and sigh about how I ruined my life because I believed to much into the hype. I haven’t been able to talk to my family for six months now because I’m afraid they might get a hold of it. I’m sick of being on the Enquirer all the time, with headlines like ‘Teen Brain down the Drain’ and ‘The Human Computer has Crashed.’ I’m sick of all of it. I want to shove those cameras and notepad down their damn throats and I want them to choke. I just want my god damn life back guys.”
“Come with us, and we’ll give you part of your life back. Part we knew you loved living, part we knew you enjoyed. Come with us, Eric, become what you once were again.”
As I looked at all their faces, I knew it was time. I couldn’t hide anymore. I needed to get back. I needed to get back to what was right and good. I needed to defend again, no matter how I do it. I needed to turn my back on those goons who have reveled in my despair, and rise from the ashes to become as glorious as I once was. I couldn’t help buy cry at the love my friends showed me, to track me down and find me and persuade me back. Having friends like that is truly a gift from above.
“I’ll…I’ll need a haircut…” I sobbed through my tears, “and I’ve lost weight, so my suit needs to be altered.”
And lost weight I had. From a portly 250 to an almost emaciated 175. As I looked in the mirror I saw what was almost a skeleton, nothing but bones and built up muscles. You’d be surprised how well built you can be when you have plenty of anger to lash out with. I went through three heavy bags in my apartment in six months, because I would pound and pound and pound them out of such fury, often hours upon hours, until I saw them bust open, and pieces of it would trickle out on the floor. And then I would watch the filling trickle out, little by little, just like my sanity and just like what my life was. But now there was someone there to put the filling back in me, my friends had come for me, and now it was time for me to redeem myself and reform my life. The old suit and coat felt warm and comforting, and the hum of the biosuit brought back lovely, calm memories of righteous struggle. I parted my newly cut hair on the left, put the old round shades back on, and then it happened.
The old fire-breathing Dragon was back. Back from the brink, and back to become what I had always wanted to be…a hero.

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