Prompt 9: Overqualified

Also posted here: https://www.reddit.com/r/WritingPrompts/comments/ze79if/wp_you_just_saved_the_world_from_an_apocalyptic/

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The words spoken at countless job interviews, remarks at networking events (oooh, how he hated networking events), resumé advice consultations, and underhanded snide remarks thrown about in casual conversation still rang in his ears.

''Sorry, we are looking for someone with a little more direct experience for this particular role.''

''Our apologies, we cannot hire you at this moment. We're just afraid you'd get bored.''

''We júst hired someone last week. Your resumé otherwise perfectly fits to what we need.''

''Is it ok we keep your resumé on file? I'm sure something will come up soon and we will contact you right away.''

Experience, he had plenty of that. Bored? Can I make that call? Of course, you hired someone last week. Just my luck. Oh yes, please, keep it on file. I'm sure you will most definitely call me back. 

After each of those conversations, he was this close to throwing his computer at the wall, though he never did as he might just actually throw it through the wall and accidentally kill Gary, his geriatric neighbor. That would be bad form. Punching people in the mouth at social events generally doesn't do any wonders for your career either, just ask Will Smith.

Every denial, every phone call that went unanswered, every resumé ending up in a virtual ban added to the resentment he felt. Soon enough, thoughts of a different nature bubbled to the surface, like a noxious gas.

''You are better than them you know.''

''They don't deserve you. Hell, they don't even like you.''

''You saved them all from an event that would have ended all their sorry lives and THIS is how they repay you?''

Every morning, he woke up a bit angrier. A bit more defeated. And then he snapped. In hindsight, you might say that it was probably not the best idea to look yourself up on Twitter. But he did. And if you scroll long enough in that cesspool of hate, you will find something that makes you lose faith in humanity, especially if you are the subject.

''Turbulento (more like Flatulento, amiright?!) is low-key the most useless superhero we've ever had. Dude saves us from one asteroid and now he thinks he can retire.''

He just sat there, looking at it. Hi-la-ri-ous. A play on his name! Ladies and gentlemen, call the papers, we've got a comedic genius here! 

Again he felt that creeping need to smash his laptop through the wall but refrained. He tried to tell himself he should proud of what he did and of his powers. Being able to control air pressure is no mean feat. It allowed him literally rip apart the asteroid. The hundreds of mini-impacts caused minor damage and few deaths. Had he done nothing, the world would have experienced a dinosaur-level extinction event.

But a fart joke!

''Fuck Twitter,'' he said, logged off, and flew out the window. 

''I've a better idea,'' he said to himself. ''Something I might actually be qualified for.''

As he flew higher and higher, he saw the city under him grow small. 

''Ants, scurrying about. All meaningless. Perhaps one will be worthy enough.''

He stretched out his arms before him, shaped his hands like he was holding a small ball, pulled them back, and then shot them back out with force. A massive ripple of pressure shot through the air, the shimmer visible and waving, like a fata morgana in the desert. Seconds later, it hit a skyscraper. No one in there saw it coming, none felt it nor sensed it until it was too late. When the wave hit, the windows shattered, bombarding everyone inside with glass shrapnel. Their pain was not to last, as the whole structure came down, tipping over and smashing into the even taller building next to it.

Then he sent another wave. And another. After mere minutes, the city was ravaged. His breathing was choppy. Leveling cities was hard work. He closed his eyes for a second to take a deep breath, but just as he was about to exhale, something (or someone) hit him square in the chest. He was knocked back and all the air left his lungs. He heard the voice before he could see it.

''Stop it! Now! What the hell are you doing? You were our hero!''

Before him, in the air, hung a young woman, scrawny, dressed in stained sweatpants and an oversized hoodie with ''Go Woke or Broke'' written on it. He could barely believe it. This was to be his adversary? His nemesis? The Batman to his Joker? Then he laughed.

''You're not what I expected! But you'll do! Now show me what you got!'' he said as he launched himself forward.

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The Prompt: You just saved the world from an apocalyptic threat. What do you even do with yourself after that? You're, like, permanently overqualified for everything after that.