(Re-Write) The Soldier's Superhero

Chapter 1

Stay calm. Just gotta stay calm.

He came to live in a place called Happy Tree Friends four years ago. While young in age, he feels as though he'd been in service of the military for many years despite being discharged at nineteen years old. He's seen his fair share of horrors in that time. Seen too much, done too much... fucked up one too many times.

What did Lumpy say to do? Remind myself of who I am. I'm Flippy. My name is Flippy. What do I look like?

(Disheveled hair. Yellow eyes. Razor sharp teeth.)

Monster. MONSTER!

No! No. I comb my hair. My eyes are green. I have normal teeth. I'm a normal man.

He gripped the tags around his neck tightly, trying to find comfort in the silver. He couldn't bare to look at them, but couldn't store them away even with the terrifying memories they triggered.

Stay calm. Stay calm. Stay calm.

His accomplishments are a haze. Sometimes they seem like fabrics of another person's experience because they didn't make sense. Lumpy always says that it's because of his PTSD. His fractured memories distorting his reality because of that incident. His mind still traumatized and unable to come to terms with his mistakes. His failures.

He dreams of the Vietnam War, despite being far, far too young to have been in it. Being trapped by natives in a cage in swampy, muddy waters. Being ambushed by blue tigers. Air-bombed. Shot at. Shouted at. Something called W.A.R. A place with no windows or light. Phantom pain that shot through his body at night, in the silence when he forgot to turn on his lights or turn the t.v. volume up to avoid the crippling silence.

That mission with Ka-boom and Sneaky.

"AAAHHHHHH!!"

Flippy blinked his eyes at the sound of Flakey's ear-piercing scream. The yellow tint in his eyes disappeared to forest green eyes and his sharpened teeth dulled back the regular ones. He blinked multiple times before looking around to see blood staining his hands and clothes, his old bowie knife in his hand, and the sight of Disco Bear, Petunia, and Giggles all dead from the ride they were on. Mime was burnt to a crisp and on the ground as Sniffles and Nutty freaked out. Lumpy's latest therapy session did not work. Other community members began to crowd around, as Flippy began to back away, horrified at another one of his flip-out sessions. He looked to see piercing, angry eyes glare his way before turning tail and running.

I couldn't stay calm...

He kept running until he got to the edge of town, out towards the forest, and to his bunker styled home. He ran inside, after a moment of fumbling with his keys, and went straight to the bathroom to empty his stomach. That was the fourth time this week he's flipped, adding another strike to his already damaged reputation in town. Once he finished throwing up, he rinsed his mouth and went to grab his pill bottle before he remembered he was covered in blood. His adrenaline picked up again and he went to the shower, blasting it with hot water as he stripped quickly and went in. The burn of the shower only made him hyperventilate more, so he had to put it on freezing, and that's what made him snap out of it. He didn't look down, afraid to see the red being washed away as he proceeded to scrub his body at least three times, roughly, to get rid of the feeling of blood on him.

What's the matter, twerp?

Flippy almost collapsed when his demon spoke up to him in a taunting manner.

The other was a demon. Something so vile that he couldn't help but think it was just him and not some personality disorder that Lumpy told him it was. It was too inhumane to be some split living in his mind. It had to be him. All him.

Did you see what I did back there? Too bad Flaky ruined it all, I was going to kill her next.

Flippy barely made it out of the shower to vomit once more into the toilet. He dry heaved for a while before calming down. He dried himself, turned the water off, and took a few more pills before going back to his room to put on some new clothes. He had a couple rooms full of clothes because this was, depressingly, a normal routine.

Fliqpy, as it named itself , was quiet after he took the pills, something he was silently glad for.

Flippy sat down on the ground of his room after putting on some fresh clothes. He sat there for a long time before crawling back to the bathroom to get his beret. He sat there in the bathroom, hugging the hat until the sun set and he managed to get back up. There were bags under his eyes, his face paler than before, and cheeks red from crying. The people he killed today would be revived after midnight, but that memory of him killing them would never go away. It was a wonder people didn't try to run him out of town yet. They already hated him for being one of the sole reasons for their deaths eighty percent of the time when he had gone into town regularly. Flippy could only sigh at that.

His luck on making and keeping friends was always going down, basically nonexistent at this point. The last person he could have called a friend was Flaky, but the poor girl was much too frightened to even spare him a glance anymore. Lumpy, the town idiot, was the only person who remotely tried to help him anymore, solely because he had zero self-preservation and didn't realize Fliqpy could suddenly take control and kill him. He didn't consider either of them to be friends though, he was just Flippy's therapist.

Feeling his stomach growl, Flippy attempted to go to the kitchen for some morsel of food, but couldn't find it in him make anything to eat. After the first few months of living here, his appetite had been destroyed.

Sometime during the night, he found himself still in the kitchen, drinking some water and staring at the clock he kept on the table. Sleeping was another thing he'd stopped doing. Cleaning his house was the only thing he could do, it was one of the few things that kept him calm, helped pass time, helped him feel normal. Tears gathered in his eyes, he tried desperately to keep them at bay, but with how frequently Fliqpy was taking control and the glares and whispers from others in town, he was beginning to break. Sure, he tried being as friendly as possible, smiled, waved, tried to act civil, tried to participate in the community, hold down a proper job so the army wouldn't have to keep sending him checks like some charity case, and try to keep himself in control... but it wasn't enough. He flipped at anything and everything. He flipped today because the stupid ride that he killed everyone on reminded him of the airplanes that bombed the area he was stationed at years ago. He flipped when seeing a simple pair of safety scissors.

Flippy. What an appropriate name for someone like him. It's like his parents knew he'd never be normal.

Flippy put his head down on the table, shoulders shaking as he sobbed silently.

Somebody, help me...