Something seemed to grip at Kreig’s heart with invisible claws. It felt strange, all of a sudden. He could remember every aspect of these four people, from their appearance to their personal beliefs. And yet, he couldn’t remember a single thing from the day he had been summoned, apart from the moment he woke up in the otherworld. It left a bad taste in his mouth.

  Only one thing here felt worse to him.

  There was a monument. To him. Something he had never and would never deserve. Not in death, not in life.

  He didn’t deserve to be placed next to his deceased comrades.

  He bent down, eyeing the rose on the far right, with its glistening golden petals where people had touched it and still-shiny nameplate that stated in bold letters like a gravestone when he was born and when he was summoned. No flowers surrounded it, likely because his siblings had known his fate as of over a month or so.

  He picked the rose. Snapped the metal stem right in half, bringing the rose to his eyes.

  His siblings seemed as though they wanted to say something, likely along the lines of ‘please don’t destroy public property’, but he had no ear for it at the moment. The rose was a false idol of his lacking death.

  It would burn in his hand.

  Burn into petals of snow. But he wasn’t done. These people, these roses…

  Nobody had ever told their families what happened, had they? After all, nobody knew any details about it. And maybe it would be cruel to force such a harsh reality upon these grieving families, but he knew right then and there that they needed it. They had to hear that their sons had not died in vain inside a portal to feed some oversized animal. They were soldiers of God, and their families deserved to know that.

  “Where do they live?” he asked. His siblings shared a glance.

  “Um, you aren’t going to, like, extort-,”

  This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.

  “No.”

  “Oh. Okay. Uh…“ Sam scratched at her neck, “I’ll make an assumption and guess that you know what happened to the other four, right?” Kreig nodded. “Right. Then… you’re going to tell them? How they-, how they died?” Kreig didn’t deny that. “I… Yeah, I can understand that. Losing a loved one is-, it’s the worst thing I’ve ever experienced, I think, but not even knowing how or why it happened is just-, there’s no closure, you know? Never knowing if they went out in a blaze of glory or snuffed out like a dying candle. But I don’t think we can send any letters by post, I think it’s pretty confidential, so if you want to do that, we might need to deliver them personally.”

  He could accept that. “Anything.” Consider it a well-meaning gesture to his former comrades. Even if he had to jump through hoops to get it done, he’d do it.

  Sam turned to George. They could accept that, couldn’t they? It was needed, after all.

  They went home.

  Even though neither George nor Sam ever had the need to buy a printer, they did keep paper and envelopes in the house, mainly since Sam once had a phase where she enjoyed hand-writing letters and stamping them with wax seals to give to crushes/friends/teachers she actually liked. Thanks to this, they were able to get Kreig paper and pencils quicker than normal.

  The only thing separating Kreig from writing four individual letters to four individual households was George’s incessant need to first introduce Kreig to a phone.

  “It isn’t complicated, it’s just-,” and then he went on to explain in the smallest words possible how this little rectangular thing was, in fact, extremely advanced. In the end though, his main points were in ‘this is the button to press to call me, this is the button to press to call Sam, and this is the button to call the authorities in case of an emergency’. Everything else was by far too complicated for Kreig to fully understand. Messages? Social media? Internet? Kreig felt a headache coming on.

  And when that was done and Kreig had successfully pressed the button to call George twice and George seemed happy with his use of the little artefact, he then went on to threaten Kreig’s sparse sanity with teaching him how to use a ‘computer’. A bigger version of the phone.

  At this point, Kreig could not listen. The information went into one ear and out of the other. George noticed this, growing irritated, but finally deciding to cut his explanation short.

  And with a final grumble and a reminder to keep the phone charged and on hand at all times, George left Kreig’s room, leaving him to his own devices. All he had was his desk, his paper, and a pencil. With this and nothing more, Kreig would narrate a tale to people. One of hardship and woe and truth. He would spare no details, not in how it began, and not in how it ended, either. Only his own identity would remain hidden. He’d write it as though he was an outside force, merely observing.

  Each of the four letters would be slightly different, focused on one of the four boys and how their lives played out.

  In the otherworld. they had all become adults. Or, as adult as five child-soldiers could become. They had lived full lives, seldom lacking anything, becoming fulfilled as humans. Upon their deaths, all of them were over 35. They had not died as children, they had died as men.

  Kreig hoped that knowing their children had not died young would bring them some form of solace. The tale he spun them was almost nonsensical in nature, he knew that, but he hoped that he could earn their trust. If he couldn’t earn it through usual means, he always had the skill Convince (II) though it was not one he liked using. For now, he was prepared to use even underhanded methods to ensure that his comrades remained known and remembered by people other than himself, people who needed to know this.

  It took him two hours to fully write the letters, to completely pour out the memories of his first thirty years in the otherworld. He could only hope that it would be enough.

  He placed each letter inside an envelope, addressed them to the families of the deceased, and sealed them shut with wax he borrowed from Sam. And now, to deliver them.

  Whether they accepted his letters or not, he would make them understand exactly what happened.

  this is the Hulk that has to be it. Anyhoo. All I know is when I write that AU, Kreig will probably not even be given a little cell where he can paint, fuck no. Where was I-, uh, glad you liked it! Characters are fun!

  isn't cool is when you parade the main character's flaw as a flaw in the story and that the novel would be much better if the mc didn't have it. Like, the main guy in FFF-class trashhero's edgyness. I don't think it's entirely portrayed as a good thing, and as such, I see it more like a flaw than a trait, making me more accepting of it, but... Really, a flaw in a character is good so long as it is portrayed as a flaw and the main character actively works to improve upon it. Right.

  really political, but... Anyhoo! Every new author writes the Hulk in a new way, be it more savage or childish. The Hulk in Planet Hulk could talk fluently and have hot, steamy Hulk Sex. The Hulk in the 1979 special thing was more based off of the TV-show Hulk than anything (delightful show although a bit formulaic), etc. It all changes, as these comics do. Sometimes the Hulk is a battle comic, sometimes it's about Bruce trying to run. I prefer the latter, although, man... Watching the Hulk destroy thousands of windows in his fight against the Thing was just fantastic. Where was I going with this? Uhh... Okay, so, Hulk. I love him. I really don't feel like I should. Before I got into him, my only experience was through the movies and stuff. If you punch in "Hulk" on Youtube you find thousands of videos for kids about "Hulk Smash!" and it always makes me cringe. It just-, it ain't what it's about. To me, the Hulk is more of a vehicle for psychological drama and tension than he is any kind of fighting machine. This is in large part since, well... it's the Hulk. Whatever he fights, if he gets angry enough... He'll win. Also, having the Hulk get angry is both harder and more gradual than you'd think and it usually isn't the focus. Very odd. Also! I just wanna say that although that modern guy Amadeus Cho (hated his comics, terrible) said in like World War Hulk or something that the Hulk had never killed anyone, he was damn wrong. I've seen this man kill people! The first strong example I can think of would be in issue... well, around the #300 mark, give or take 50 (my memory is bad sorry) where Bruce Banner was separated from the Hulk. Not the first time it has happened and certainly wouldn't be the last time either. This split caused Bruce's mind to get fucked and he was bound to a wheelchair. The Hulk went on a continuous rampage through New Mexico, killing hundreds. Killing hundreds. Dead. Sure, you can say that the "mindless Hulk" did it, but although Bruce is incomplete without the Hulk, he was still Bruce. And that rampaging machine was still Hulk. This happened right before Peter Davids took over, so John Byrne was still writing it, whyever that's important. The Hulk and Bruce rejoined later with the help of Vision, but... Still. When was the second time again... Oh, yeah, it was in this horribly drawn special. It had this really gritty style of shading and the writing was super serious, but the art was laughable. It wasn't even professional. I think the HUlk (normal Hulk) killed around 20 000? It was a while ago and I had trouble entertaining the story since the art was so bad... But it was a lot, to such an extent where it felt like the writer was either a huge fan himself or had no idea what he was doing. Either way, this is all canon, since Marvel never fuckin' resets their timeline. Basically, Amadeus Cho is a dirty rotten liar and Banner was a fool to make him the new Hulk. Like, damn. Dummy choice. As a matter of fact, a lot of what Marvel is currently doing to the Hulk is just... It completely forgets the psychological roots. As much as I hate Doc Green, I appreciate him for going around the world and curing all the Hulks out there. It was starting to feel so... overdone. There was a red hulk and a blue hulk and a hulking and a female red hulk and a female green hulk. Thank you, Doc Green, you don't entirely suck. Amazing. Having several people with Hulk powers destroyed the heart of what made the Hulk special. The fact that they're reintroducing the fucking "Hulk family" is absolute trash, and the worst denominator of all is Betty Ross/Banner. I used to really like her. Seriously. In the first couple of hundred issues, she had this adorable Maria (West Side Story) vibe where she was lovestruck and innocent and just... A delight in every way. You wanted her and Banner to marry. Sure, the first 100 issues or do had a real problem with lack of direction and they were focusing a lot on Banner hiding his secret from everyone and still working and only becoming Hulk to fight, but the thing that made this easier to read and digest was Bruce's innocent love for Betty. It was cute. Didn't feel (that) forced. And then Betty just... Changed. I'm all for character development, but she became absolutely insufferable, a bare shadow of who she was before. And I mean this as in recently. Even in the middle of the 1999 run, around 2005 or so, she was still a delight. Sure, she had changed, but more so in the way where iron became tempered by the fire. She was tougher, stronger, but without losing her core sweet femininity. And then-, and then it all went to shits. I can't even pinpoint it exactly. After 2008 she was just... Not loving. Didn't love Banner (despite how much he loved her), hated his guts, was angry that her Red Hulk powers were taken, MURDERED HIM IN COLD BLOOD, became the Red Harpy just to spite him, wouldn't even show her human face to him... It felt so fucking abusive I couldn't stand it. Worst of all, it somehow felt political in nature. Like she couldn't be a feminine, loving wife. Like femininity was bad or something. Jesus. It wasn't portrayed as a bad thing (more so that Bruce was bad for not accepting that she hated him for no reason), hell, it was even shown to be a good thing that she was "standing up to him"! It felt perverted, and, yeah, I'm still upset. Not at her, of course not, more so at her writers who decided to perfect a delightful character. She had her ups and downs. She could act tough when she had to, she was the daughter of a general, after all, but this was... There was a sweetness to the tough. That's gone. If you compare the Betty Ross from the first issue to the one from the Immortal Hulk run, they are just... Not even the same character. Damn. Immortal Hulk started out so good too... Just to clarify, I absolutely love the Hulk. The idea of him is fantastic, I have written some fanfiction (one of them even got me permabanned from a Marvel forum three times), and I will never stop wanting a Hulk tv series or film. It could be so good.