When the strong is in your genes, no matter how much you try to lose weight, you just can't. That's the bitter truth I've come to learn in these few days I've spent trying to do that. Well. By few days, I mean, a few years. I used to look like a hunk of muscles with a lot of belly fat. Now? I still look like a hunk of muscles, but without the belly fat.

Like a warrior defeated after a long and hard battle, I sit down in a restaurant, staring down at a glass of wine. And I'm asking myself. Does life have meaning?

After drinking the entire bottle, I got up and left the restaurant, without having anything to drink. My sorrow is my food that I drink. They call me Herculese. But is that my real name? I don't know. Centuries have gone by. Names hold little meaning to me. Am I the son of Zeus? I don't know. Contrary to myths, I never knew my father, if I did, I don't remember. Am I strong though? I don't know. I don't know how strong I am. I know that I'm kind of immortal. But if someone hit me hard enough, or gave me a wound I couldn't recover from, you could could kill me just like everyone else.

Its a good night outside. There's a full moon. It's a good night. But also, like any other night, crime plagues the city of California. I'm someone that can be called a 'hero'. There are no monsters for me to fight though. Just humans, and their weapons. Their bullets just bounce off my skin though. FWAP. I slap one of them, smashing him against the wall. His eyes pop out of its socket as his brain is mushed into a paste along with his skull. His lifeless (and headless) corpse fall through the wall into the house.

Terrified denizens of the household pretend they don't see me. They know better. Flies. Meant to be squashed. But I'm not usually a bad guy. Sometimes when I'm annoyed, bad guys just act as a vent for me to let out my frustrations. The guy I killed was a killer, an escaped convict. I've seen his picture on television. I remember. Just unlucky to have met me tonight, I guess, I scrape my hand against the wall as I smeared the blood off of my hand.

As the police arrived, I showed them my badge, before leaving the scene quietly. I have special rights and privileges, granted to me by organisation. I can kill criminals.

I think what I need is probably a challenge.