What makes one successful has been a topic of discussion since the concept of success was created. For many people, the answer was hard work. Sweat, tears, and blood. One can become successful by sacrificing their comfort, time and sometimes health to become successful, whatever their definition of success was.
To William H.G. Truman, most people were wrong. Success couldn’t be acquired by hard work. If that was true, then the workers his father employed were more successful than his entire family since they worked 12 hours a day, 7 days a week. They sweated in close space, cried for a raise, and broke their backs under heavy machinery.
No. No. To become successful one must born with talent. That hardworking thing was just a lie, an excuse for those untalented to make themselves feel better. William, on the other hand, was different. He was the eldest son of one of the richest men on the planet. He had his father’s sharp grey eyes and her mother’s soft, blond hair. He also inherited his mother’s good looks. From a young age, he impressed his father when they went to play golf and his mother when they went to play tennis by scoring against them as soon as he learned the rules.
He went on to get offers from prestigious basketball and football teams. Yet, he rejected all. To him, all of them were just whims. He just thought that it would be cool and stopped playing whatever sport he got world level.
He never had to work seriously. His father’s wealth was enough for him, his 12 siblings, and the countless mistresses his father took on to live without a single care. Even after the Horde started attacking and took countless lives, for William it was just an “incident” happening on the other side of the world. He could just party and keep living his life as he did before.
William kept living his privileged life until that faithful day. Just like many times he had before he managed to charm two pretty models and was sitting on a bar with them at his side. He didn’t know their name seven though they told him. It didn’t matter. He could just keep calling them beauties. Even if he got their names wrong, they probably wouldn’t even care as they were here for his good looks and money.
“We cut our regular schedule to proudly report that humanity’s victory. 70 percent of the Horde-infested parts of the Middle East and Balkans have been recovered by Collective Human Resistance. The successful counteroffensive marks a crucial milestone in the battle to push back the Horde and restore normalcy to affected regions. Reports from the front lines indicate that a coordinated effort involving military forces, local militias, and strategic alliances has led to the liberation of multiple urban centers previously held by the Horde. The cities, which had endured the horrors of occupation for an extended period, are now on the path to recovery. We are with Michael Thompson.”
William clicked his tongue. Even though the owner changed the channel, every one of them broadcasted the same thing. He was at a bar with chicks. Why did he have to listen to some boring war report? Did the people in charge of the media really think it was a good idea to broadcast about a war happening in the Balkans and the Middle East? Those places always had some kind of war for fuck’s sake.
Just as he was about to yell for them to turn off the TV and start some music, the scenery TV was depicting changed. It was a shaky recording of a single man fighting against the bugs. He wore a heavy set of armor while holding a sword that was nearly the size of him. William recognized the armor. It was a Power Armor originally developed to carry heavy cargos by his father’s company. He have seen them be used but this, this was something else. The ones he saw moved at a snail’s pace, one step taking seconds yet the man in the video moved so fast that he escaped the capture of the camera several times during the video. Despite him not being able to be recorded properly, his performance was still no short of superhuman. He tore through countless car-sized monstrosities while avoiding, spikes and acid fired on him.
William suddenly rose to get a closer look, startling both the girls.
“Turn up the volume.”
He yelled as the screen changed once again. It was a reporter.
“Hello, I am Michael Thompson, recording from Edirne, Turkey. I am happy to finally give you good news! Our forces managed to liberate countless cities from the Horde menace. I am with one of the heroes of this operation! He was one of the key factors that allowed humanity to wipe the bugs. One of humanity’s very few supersoldiers; Colonel Poyraz Karabulut.”
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
The camera shifted, not looking up to the same armored figure the shaky recording showed. The camera struggled to capture all of his body as his height and size filled more than the perspective. The camera traced his body and weapon before focusing on his face. The helmet he wore was now off revealing a young man. His hair was long and wild-looking. He also had a beard covering most of his face. He had two scars running across his face. He had bags under his eyes. If he were to take care of himself he would be very handsome.
At first, William likened the man to a homeless person or a raccoon. That changed when the camera zoomed into his brown eyes. For a second William shivered. What were his eyes? He met with world-famous athletes, rock stars, and talented actors but none had what this man had in his eyes.
For the first time in his life, William felt inferior to someone. Not that he thought less of himself, it was just that the man’s eyes pierced through him. Even though William was looking at the TV, he felt like the man was seeing him. He felt like he managed to see the very soul of him.
“Wars aren’t won or lost with one person. Thousands of people, men and women fought together with me. Whatever their branch was or whatever they were soldiers, cooks, drivers, engineers, everyone who had a hand in the war against the Horde deserves credit. I appreciate the compliments everyone gives to me but if it comes with everyone forgetting others, I would rather be cursed at.”
His face didn’t change. His tone was distant and emotionless. William chuckled to himself. What kind of publicity stunt was that? He had to at least sound sincere if he wanted to capture the hearts of everyone.
“You don’t need to be humble, Colonel. We alrea- Huh?”
Even though the reporter wanted to keep the interview going, Poyraz turned around.
“That was it. I said what I needed to say. Soldiers, escort them to the closest exit.”
As Poyraz Karabulut ended the interview abruptly, the camera feed shifted back to the newsroom, leaving William intrigued and somewhat unsettled by the encounter with the mysterious supersoldier.
“What a jerk.”
One of the models claimed.
“Yeah, he could have at least answered some questions.”
Other model added. William didn’t hear them. He was too busy processing what he witnessed. He was familiar with popularity stunts as he also appeared on TV and podcasts. You would paint yourself as a humble person at first before adding more and more of your own personality so that people would find you more captivating. But what he saw wasn’t it. Poyraz Karabulut appeared on a report that was being broadcast all around the world just to say “Don’t forget the others.”.
What the hell was that? William just couldn’t understand it. He sat back down and pulled out his phone.
“Poyraz Karabulut.”
He searched for his name on the internet. He was already trending on multiple media platforms. The reaction people had towards him was mixed.
“He just shut down an interview like a boss. No time for empty praise, he's about action. Respect! 💪 #Supersoldier #RealHero"
"Just saw the interview with Colonel Poyraz. The dude's like a walking legend. No fluff, just straight to the point. Who is this guy, and where did he come from?”
"Colonel Poyraz Karabulut is like a character from a dark fantasy novel. Those scars, that gaze - there's a story there. Someone needs to write a fanfic or something!”
"Is it just me, or did Poyraz Karabulut come off as totally ungrateful in that interview? Dude's got an attitude problem. “
"Colonel Poyraz's abrupt exit from the interview didn't exactly scream professionalism. A bit more tact wouldn't hurt.”
"Colonel Poyraz acts like he's too good for the interview. Newsflash, buddy, we want to hear your story!”
While Poyraz spoke only several sentences, the impact he had on the internet was huge. Some saw him as a nonsense hero while others thought him as a cold-hearted jerk. Regardless of what the internet saw him as more and more videos and photos of him surfaced as the day went on. While the rest of the world learned about him with that broadcast, he had already carved a name for himself in the Balkans and the Middle East.
William left the bar, leaving the two models behind despite their protest and charms. He dug deep on the internet, trying to find more about Poyraz Karabulut. Despite more shaky and low-quality videos of him tearing through monsters surfacing, his personal life was mostly hidden. It was normal as he was not only a high-ranked officer but also a member of the supersoldier program. The things known that he was from Turkey, XXXXXXX. It was a city overrun by the Horde in 20XX. Some obscure forums claimed that his entire family was killed during the city was overrun.
William saw more and more photos of him. He always had bags under his eyes and that cold look. His face was devoid of emotion even when he was receiving medals. William felt a wave of jealousy and inferiority rise from his chest as he searched more about him. Yet he couldn’t stop himself from searching for him.
He had to know more. He had to see through those cold, degrading eyes.
For the first time in his life, William had a clear goal.
A goal he couldn’t reach.
A goal that would hurt a lot of people.
Yet, William didn’t care.
“Whatever it takes.”