Fantastic Man was a hero so fantastic, he defied adjectival description (other than, of course, “fantastic”).
He not just faster than a bullet, but faster than two bullets, fired simultaneously, from different guns.
He could leap over Mount Everest, if he wanted to. He didn’t often, but, as the saying goes, you should never skip leg day, so he didn’t.
His skin was not just invincible; it could preemptively repel any weapon. One of his great nemeses, the mad scientist Dr. Horrendous, once considered turning his death ray on Fantastic Man. Before the death ray’s blueprints were finished, Dr. Horrendous was vaporized by a mysterious death ray emanating from somewhere to the north, where Fantastic Man happened to be vacationing. Incidentally, several people between the two, including some of Fantastic Man’s bedmates, as well as a tunnel of dirt and water, were also vaporized.
In short, Fantastic Man was fantastic, and people everywhere wished he would leave them the hell alone. He made everyone’s life more difficult, ruined local and national economies, and hurt or killed anyone who considered expelling him, while he lived large off the exorbitant fees for his services and the royalties from merchandising.
At night, people prayed for a weakness. By day, they suffered illness while Fantastic Man saved the world, or at least the parts willing to pay for him.