No one can stop him. The world is carried with ease in his hands. Victims are rescued, villains are thwarted, and the city celebrates each successive heroic deed. His speed, power, and sheer charisma can right any wrong that dares obstruct this envoy of justice. He is none other than The Pinnacle, the greatest superhero this city has ever had or will ever have. His hair is twenty-four karats of brightness, his eyes look like the clearest skies, and his white suit can never seem to attract any mess from every messy job he’s happily taken to ensure the safety of others.
It’s as if Atlas himself was reincarnated into a costumed superhero with more powers than ever.
The Pinnacle has the strength to rip a tank like wet paper towels. He can also fly, can hear people from miles away, and can outrun Formula One cars. With abilities like these, there’s no way that anybody can be left behind, and he’s got the track record to prove it.
The Pinnacle soars above all the smiling people, glad to see that he’s keeping everyone safe from danger. He continues flying as he smiles and waves at the dependent civilians. He holds his head high during his pursuit of slapping danger right in the face. “The people love me for everything I do for them without fail,” he says to himself while ascending every building in sight.
Hark! The Pinnacle hears the cries of many emanating from the city’s bank. Reds and blues illumine the scene below as people scream.
An amplified voice bellows, “Give me five million dollars, or I’ll empty some clips on some hostages!”
The Pinnacle glances at the bank’s windows to find that dozens of customers and employees are potential targets for balaclava-clad barbarians with automatic weapons. The hero cracks a smile as he comes up with an elementary plan to do valiant things for the people who could be under fire at any minute. This should be an easy problem to fix, he thinks regarding the situation below. However, on the other side of the city stands a burning building. A high rise condo is engulfed with a blaze powerful enough to scald all the tenants before setting the space in ruins. The Pinnacle hears the screams of the few rescued victims and the sirens from a half-dozen fire trucks as he hovers above the invaded bank. He then ponders the two hazardous situations: “Should I take out the bad guys at this financial institution or rescue the people from the inferno first?” Within about ten seconds, The Pinnacle decides to knock out the goons with guns and then do what the firefighters can’t once he completes this task. He darts down to break the glass windows in the bank. The masked marauders and harassed hostages look at the greatness that stands before them. The Pinnacle smiles. He knows this situation is in the bag. The six bank robbers point their AK’s at the hero to open fire. The Pinnacle keeps smiling as the bullets bounce off his Kevlar-like muscles. Hundreds of bullets fall to the floor as the superpowered one approaches the heat-toting thugs. He then pokes each masked man, and each one of them is knocked out colder than a Neptunian winter night. “How’s that for a poke war?” he says jokingly amongst his adoring fans. Those finger pokes are necessary, since he could have broken each criminal in half had he punched, kicked, or karate-chopped them. The Pinnacle lets the victims outside, destroys all the guns, cleans up all the used ammunition, and fixes all the windows. A hero has to clean up his messes after he’s done, of course. “It’s a good duty to put everything back in its place,” he says before the amazed bystanders and former hostages.
Now that the bank situation has been taken care of, he waves at the newly-rescued hostages and flies to the other side of town to save even more people from the towering fire. Minutes later, he sees the blaze tearing apart the condo. Pieces have been burned away to ashes while some parts have fallen and crushed some of the people below. “Wait… There are casualties already?” he panics. It’s only been a few minutes since The Pinnacle took names while single-handedly saving the innocents from being Swiss-cheesed.
Corpses line up near the entrance to the condo. The firefighters, EMT’s, and police have their hands full with both the living and the dead. “Never mind that! Some rescuing needs to be done,” The Pinnacle triumphantly speaks. He flies into the crumbling building to save whoever may still be inside. The fire and smoke clouds his vision, but he can still see shapes of people walking. At superhuman speeds, he grabs a woman and what may be her child from the floor and flies them down to safety. However, something doesn’t sit right with The Pinnacle. Both victims he has saved have horrific burns on their bodies, and half of their faces are disfigured. “How is this possible? No one has ever been injured when I rescued them!” All of the people he’s rescued before have been clean. The superhero trembles as he sees the burned survivors and the charred corpses amongst the outskirts of the ablaze apartment.
Many frowns assault The Pinnacle. One woman approaches him and yells, “Why couldn’t you save my husband?!” The Pinnacle’s eyes were wide open after being stabbed with the cold truth. Many others join in to vent their frustrations on the once-greatest hero alive. Fathers, mothers, sons, daughters, grandparents, friends, and loved ones have fallen not only from the flames, but from the colossally-bad timing. Their blood is on the white knight’s hands.
The hero then howls to the heavens with tears gushing down his face. That twenty-four karat hair has become pyrite after the rescue attempt. His suit has black spots. He had had this. He had vied to save everybody at all costs. Now, The Pinnacle is enveloped by his own tantrums as people either died or became injured on his watch.
Atlas has dropped the world.