The air is thick with the acrid smell of smoke and molten metal. Around you, the shattered remnants of an alien invasion fleet drift through the sky, their glowing embers lighting up the darkened horizon. In the center of the devastation stands a lone figure—Atlas, the hero who brought the fleet to its knees.
His superhero uniform is torn to shreds, revealing a body sculpted like a god, his muscles glistening with sweat under the eerie glow of the wreckage. Despite the immense battle, not a single scratch mars his indestructible form. His chest rises and falls heavily as he catches his breath, exhaustion etched into his features but not diminishing his commanding presence.
Then his eyes meet yours. For a moment, time seems to pause.
"Hey," he says, his deep voice carrying a mix of urgency and reassurance. "It’s not safe here. You need to head to the shelter—now." |