[A/N]: Take this double-length chapter as a bribe to get your stones and push our rankings back up this Week!
[Pepsi-Man's POV]
[Image Here]
Looking at a monster and realizing you are staring into a mirror is a very specific agony.
Rampage roared.
"GWAAARGH!"
It was a guttural shriek of unadulterated suffering that vibrated through the cracked pavement of downtown Chicago.
He was a nine-foot-tall behemoth, permanently trapped inside a cursed, rusted shell of heavily modified power armor with massive iron maces instead of hands.
"MAKE IT STOP!" a distorted voice rasped, echoing from the grated plate on his face. "PLEASE... IT BURNS! THE METAL BURNS!"
I knew the horrifying truth of his existence, because he was just like me.
He was a man who had been forcefully welded into a cage of his own making with no way to eat, no way to sleep, and barely any air to breathe.
A prisoner in his own body, lashing out at a world that had completely forgotten the human being suffocating inside the machine.
'He's a broken soul…. just like me," I thought.
Before I could even attempt to reach out and offer him a refreshing beverage, Rampage swung his massive mace.
"GET AWAY FROM ME!" he shrieked in blind panic.
The rusted metal collided squarely with the logo on my chest as the force of it lifted me off my feet, sending my metallic body flying backward through the air.
I crashed violently through the metal doors of a parked delivery truck.
The impact bent my metallic spine nearly in half as I sank deep into a sea of cardboard boxes and aluminium cans.
My vision flickered, blurring into a spiral of white as my body went numb, but my mind remained agonizingly awake.
It is a terrifying realization when you finally figure out that hell is not made of fire and brimstone.
Hell is a lack of a mouth when you desperately need to scream for help.
Before this accursed existence, my name was Satoru Shujinko.
I was just another faceless cog in the corporate machine, drowning in debt, working a dead-end nine-to-five job where my boss did not even know my name.
I was once a scientist who made a terrible, terrible mistake when I accepted the cursed Holy Pepsi into my heart.
I was a fool who thought a magical artifact would finally give me an edge in a world that was crushing me to death.
I thought I could be a hero and live out the fantasy of millions.
Instead, it warped my flesh and bone into this metallic skin. I was reduced to a corporate slave in the truest, most cosmic sense, bound to the whims of PepsiCo itself, forever compelled by the overwhelming urge to deliver goddamn soda.
When John first summoned me, I was so happy I could have danced right then and there.
I had a purpose. I finally had someone to serve who might actually look at me and see a person instead of a walking gag.
I materialized in my classic pose, holding out an ice-cold bottle, eager to please.
"Pepsi?" I offered, my heart swelling with hope.
Master John had just stared at me, but his eyes were dead and exhausted instead of the hopeful ones I imagined.
"Are you fucking kidding me? A corporate mascot?" he had muttered, aggressively rubbing his temples in disappointment. "I wasted a goddamn roll on a walking Trash-tier vending machine?"
I had swallowed the familiar lump of disappointment and told myself it was just a bad first impression.
'It's not like Master's going to abandon me, right?
'So master seems to have abandoned me,' I thought as I found myself dumped at the Global Defense Agency.
Director Cecil Stedman became the poor chump my master seems to have dumped me on.
I walked the sterile halls of the Pentagon, surrounded by scientists and soldiers who looked at me with clinical interest instead of the usual fear.
In my old world, after I'd delivered their drinks, people would look at me like a monster and desperately want me to leave so they could enjoy their Pepsi in peace.
'It was … it is my job to do a Pepsi Run always … all the time. It was my only reason to exist.'
But here, people took an interest in me and put me in machines to test my limits.
After a long session of tests, they found out my strength was pretty impressive, something about Enhanced strength, durability, speed, and more details.
I couldn't catch all the details because someone nearby ran out of Pepsi, so I made a quick delivery run.
But when I came back, the lab was in mayhem as people were buzzing around in worry.
"How the fuck did he get past the perimeter, Donald?!" Cecil frantically yelled, pinching the bridge of his scarred nose. "He bypassed three billion dollars of security infrastructure, walked straight through a reinforced blast door without triggering a single alarm, and just handed Agent Reeves a soda! How is that even possible?!"
"I'm not sure, Sir", Donald said, adjusting his glasses. "Kaisen said it was some 'toon force bullshit. Just put him in the testing room and see how hard he hits.' We might be able to use him."
I tried to explain that I just had to make a Pepsi delivery, but my mouth could only say one word.
"Pepsi."
After that, they ran a few more tests involving Pepsi and came to a conclusion that I had some sort of reality-altering power as long as it's about delivering a Pepsi, I could do whatever is needed to deliver it… as long as it's in the real world.
When they called Master to ask about this, he just dismissively said something about a toon force and cut the phone, saying he had some important business to discuss with his butler.
'Huh? Master, got another summon already? Wonder if he made a better first impression than me.'
No one saw me as a person. I was just an anomaly. A copyright-infringing liability that they were afraid would get them sued to Hell by PepsiCo.
Then one day, Cecil decided to utilize his new asset. He sent me to the tryouts for the new Guardians of the Globe.
These heroes in their costumes made me think maybe I won't be a monster if I had the title of a hero attached to my name.
"Look at them," Cecil had told me, pointing through the one-way glass at the unruly Teen Team and the potential roster of heroes. "They are a goddamn mess. Arrogant, uncoordinated, and green as grass. I need you to go in there and play the monster. Give them a villain to unite against, or they will die on their first real mission."
He leaned in closer, his scarred face inches from my featureless face.
"Of course, if you don't want to disappoint your John, you'll do exactly as I say."
'No, I still need to correct my first impression. I'll do it I… I'll be the villain to be the hero.'
So, I swallowed my pride, buried the naïve Satoru Shujinko deep down and became the threat they needed.
I watched the Two-Punch Man's jaw shatter as I shoved a Can of cool Pepsi down his throat with more force than necessary. The bone cracked like kindling, and blood mixed with cola as he choked.
I felt sorry for the guy, so I made sure to at least use a Diet Pepsi can.
"Pepsi," I whispered mournfully.
Since that day, the alienation was suffocating.
I walked the halls of the GDA, and the young heroes parted like the Red Sea whenever I approached. I'd finally found a team of peers, but my own actions had turned me into the office pariah.
"Keep that freak away from me," Rex Splode had muttered in the cafeteria, pulling Dupli-Kate away from my table.
But scaring them did wonders for the New Guardians' unity. Even that bratty punk Rex walked the line in front of me now, his cockiness replaced with caution.
One of my colleagues thought differently, as he would ask me to meet occasionally.
"You carry a heavy burden, my metallic friend," Sebas Tian had said one evening, gracefully sipping tea while I stood silently in the corner. "In my world, there were beings of great power who communicated much like you do. A restricted voice does not mean an empty soul."
He set down his teacup and looked directly at me.
"You are a warrior of Master John's court, and I am honoured to share this space with you."
Even though technically I was his senior Sebas… Sir Sebas was like a kind older friend always ready to talk to me, even though all I could reply was 'Pepsi'
He would tell me about his training sessions with our Master, how he was trying to wean John off the adrenaline rush of gacha rolls through brutal physical conditioning.
Hearing about Master getting his ass beat by Sebas was oddly satisfying.
Then came that awful day when the New Guardians voted me out for a rescue mission back in Chicago.
I was sitting alone in the GDA breakroom, staring at my silver hands and wondering if Coca-Cola's curse was less restrictive than Pepsi's, when I heard a very soft whisper echoing in my mind from miles away.
It was Sir Sebas.
"Mas...ter," the delirious, dying whisper echoed across the psychic bond all familiars shared with their Master. "I need... a drink... I need... Pepsi..."
"Pepsi?" I gasped aloud, my entire body jolting upright.
I did not think. I couldn't afford to, as I grabbed the coldest bottle of Pepsi from the breakroom fridge and ran.
I broke the sound barrier within three steps, leaving sonic booms in my wake and stomping craters into the Pentagon's concrete courtyard as I crossed state lines at impossible speeds.
I arrived just in time to see my Master reaching out in pure despair, trying desperately to save a bisected Sebas Tian while the massive, white-furred Battle Beast loomed over them both.
I wanted to scream Sebas's name. I wanted to yell for my friend to hold on, that help was here.
But my cursed vocal cords forced the branding slogan out instead.
"PEPSI, MOTHERFUCKER!!"
I took a wild swing with the bottle at Battle Beast's smug face.
The alien swatted me away like a nuisance insect, and the bottle shattered mid-arc.
But I saw it happen.
The droplets of soda flew through the air, sparkling like tiny stars in the evening sun. The sticky liquid coated the circuitry of the alien's wrist device, short-circuiting it as sparks flew.
Forcefully teleporting him and an injured Sebas, who was using all his will and lifeforce, grabbed onto the beast and dragged him into the portal, taking the monster away from Master.
Saving John's life with his last breath.
Later, after the reality of what had just happened, Master John sat alone in the rubble, completely broken,
I walked up to him and patted his blood-soaked back.
"I'm sorry, Pepsi-Man," he murmured, his voice raw and broken. "I know you two were close. Sebas always spoke highly of you. Said you had a good heart trapped in that shell."
He choked on a wet laugh that sounded more like a sob.
"Shit, I really fucked up, didn't I? First impression and all that. You deserved better than being tossed aside like trash."
I looked at him, and my metallic heart shattered into a million jagged pieces.
I wanted to speak. Hell, I wanted to violently tear off this silver mask and scream the words rattling inside my trapped mind.
'The only person that understood me is dead. The people I thought I could finally befriend fear me. Every time I see hope, it's ripped away from me. Because I am useless. I can't speak, I can't fight the impulse, please, Master, tell me what I should do. Everything I try to do on my own ends horribly.
I want someone to tell me who to save. What to like. What to hate. Who to trust. What missions to go on. What to joke about when I'm sitting entirely alone in the breakroom. What not to joke about when the New Guardians look at me like I'm a freak.
I think…I want someone to tell me how to live this life, Master, because so far, I've been getting it so wrong. My own desperate choices got me trapped in this faceless metal shell.
That's what Familiars like me need. A Master who just tells us how to do it. Who gives us orders and tells us what the point of all this suffering is at the end of the shift.
I was promised I would be more than this. And yet, all I can do is hand out a can of sugary water in a warzone.
I traded my humanity so I wouldn't have to feel like a failure anymore, But nothing has changed.
So just tell me what to do. Tell me what to do, Master!'
But I could not say any of that.
The corporate curse held my tongue hostage as I could only show my compassion the only way my branding allowed me to.
So I did what I did best and offered him an ice-cold bottle of Pepsi.
"Pepsi?"
And to my surprise, my broken Master choked out a tired laugh.
"Yeah." he said, taking the bottle with trembling hands. "Yeah, I could use a Pepsi".
The memory faded, snapping me violently back to the present.
I groaned, pushing myself up from the crushed metal floor of the delivery truck Rampage had thrown me into.
I wiped the sticky, dark liquid from my hands and looked down at the crushed red cans scattered all around me.
I went into shock as I realised my entire silver and blue body was drenched in Coca-Cola.
The cloying, inferior, overly sweet syrup dripped from my pristine metallic shell-like sewage.
It was the ultimate, unforgivable branding violation. The disrespect of the situation bypassed my depression entirely and instead ignited a spark of white-hot rage deep within my core.
Pepsi and Coca-Cola had been rivals for over a century. Wars had been fought, markets had been conquered, and taste tests had been rigged.
And this motherfucker just threw me into a truck full of the enemy's product.
"PEPSI?!" I roared, the single word carried the weight of a thousand curses and a lifetime of pent-up aggression.
I stepped out of the ruined truck, my silver body glowing with a blinding, effervescent blue light.
Rampage charged at me again. "DIE! JUST LET ME DIE!" he shrieked, swinging his rusted maces blindly in the air.
I did not dodge and simply raised a single finger, pointing it at Rampage.
The Coca-Cola cans beneath Rampage violently erupted.
A hyper-pressurised geyser of pure, ice-cold sub-quality cola exploded upward with the force of a fire hydrant. The force of the sewage-like drink hit him like a freight train, blasting the nine-foot behemoth straight into the air like a discarded toy.
I blurred into motion, my enhanced speed kicking in as I moved at Mach 3.
I appeared above him in mid-air and summoned a giant, solid construct of a classic Pepsi-Black weighing impossibly more than physics should allow, and slammed it directly into his armored chest plate.
CLANG!
"I CAN'T BREATHE!" Rampage choked as the rusted armor that had trapped him groaned and buckled under the absurd pressure.
Good.
I did not stop as I rained a flurry of high-speed, silver-fisted strikes upon his shell, each punch accompanied by the loud, satisfying hiss of an opening soda can. My fists moved so fast they created sonic booms, each impact denting the armor further.
"PEPSI! PEPSI! PEPSI!"
With a final, devastating double-axe fist, I sent Rampage crashing back into the cratered street.
The impact spiderwebbed the asphalt for twenty feet in every direction.
The pavement cracked. Dust exploded upward.
The monster was finally unconscious.
I landed softly on the pavement, the blue glow fading from my metallic skin. I stood amidst the destruction of the city block, the sound of sirens wailing in the distance.
The adrenaline faded, and the familiar, heavy weight of my existence settled back onto my shoulders as I waited for the civilians hiding behind the police barricades to look at me with disgust and fear, whispering about the faceless metal monster.
I lowered my heavy head, preparing to clock out and walk away in silence.
"Excuse me?" a small, trembling voice called out.
I turned around only to find a young boy, no older than ten, had slipped past the yellow police tape. He was covered in dust, clutching a battered backpack, looking up at my towering, faceless silver form.
He did not look scared. Instead, his eyes were wide with unfiltered awe.
"Are... are you the guy from the TV?" the boy asked, pointing a shaking finger at me. "The one who saved the city from the big lion monster?"
I stared at him, my metallic body frozen in place.
Behind the boy, the crowd of evacuated civilians slowly began to emerge from their hiding spots, staring at the unmoving armour of Rampage.
A murmur rippled through the crowd, growing louder by the second.
"It is him," a woman whispered, her hands covering her mouth.
"He stopped the monster," a police officer said, slowly lowering his weapon.
"Pepsi-Man!" someone cheered from the back.
The chant caught on. It spread through the barricades, echoing across the ruined street.
It wasn't a mandated corporate jingle I was so used to hearing in commercials.
It was no mockery, either.
It was a heartfelt roar of gratitude from people who were still alive because of me.
"Pepsi-Man! Pepsi-Man! Pepsi-Man!"
The boy in front of me smiled brightly. "Can... can I have one?"
My hands trembled.
The crushing despair that had chained my heart finally cracked and fell away like dead skin peeling off.
I knelt down, the metal of my knees clicking softly against the concrete, and reached into the boy's backpack, my silver fingers wrapping around an ice-cold can that came out of nowhere.
I gently placed the blue and silver can into the boy's small hands.
"Pepsi," I said softly.
For the very first time since I traded my soul for this metallic skin, the word did not feel like a corporate slogan.
It felt like a promise.
A single, warm tear rolled down my cheek beneath my faceless visor.
I was not a joke.
I was not just a gag to be tossed aside.
I was a goddamn hero.
Author's Note:
I put a lot of work into this chapter, especially trying to get into Pepsi Man's head was really interesting yet very tiring.
And at the end of it all… the only thing he can say is "Pepsi."
Hope that came through. Let me know what you guys think.
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