Jeremiah Butterworth was a superhero. Emphasis on was. It turned out, each time he used his incredible powers, he was taking years off his life, like how you take sips from a soda until it is gone. He was also the sole heir of the Mrs. Butterworth® fortune.
It was a coalition, you know, a temporary alliance of distinct parties, in this case superheroes, for joint action. They proudly named themselves, Power Squadron Inc. U.K. Initially, it was just Power Squadron, but due to litigious upstarts using the same name, and with the help of adept copyright lawyers, they settled with PSI U.K. Speaking of settling, they based their headquarters in Dover, Delaware.
On that fateful day, The Big Ape® arrived on Earth, Washington D.C. to be specific. His mission was simple and true. Make peace with the humans or kill trying. He descended slowly in a beam of bright yellow light. He held up his hands brandishing peace signs with his grossly large fingers. His posture made him look like President Richard Nixon®. Many people instinctively ducked in fear of having feces flung at them. The watching world wanted to know one thing: What the hell was this?
Brickhouse® was about to be walloped hard in the kisser by his nemesis, The Clobber Meister®, in the form of a classic wind-up Sunday punch, rapidly approaching and since this was Jupiter’s gravity, the impact would be immeasurable, as in devastating. Typically, this would be no big whup, but Brickhouse® was clearly distracted. As we all know, his strength, in this case, invulnerability, requires complete concentration.