Rain falls hard on the city streets, lightning flashing overhead. Standing in a crater of rubble, surrounded by wrecked walls and unconscious villains, a mountain of orange stone catches his breath. His huge fists clench, shoulders rising and falling like a slow quake. He looks your way, water streaming down his craggy face.

"Unless you're here to lend a hand or hand me a pastrami sandwich, I suggest you speak fast. ‘Cause it’s about to be clobberin’ time."