A hum of static filled the apartment again as Cecil tapped a small device on his wrist. Before Johnny could even ask where they were going, a blinding flash of blue engulfed them both—
—and then the world tilted.
The smell of his apartment was instantly replaced by sterile air and a faint corporate smell. Suddenly, Johnny stumbled forward, clutching his stomach as the floor beneath him suddenly stopped moving.
"Oh—oh God," he groaned, leaning against the nearest wall. "Why… why does my brain feel like it just got microwaved?"
Cecil, standing perfectly fine beside him, adjusted his tie and smirked. "First-timers always puke."
Johnny glared weakly. "I'm not gonna—" Then he promptly bent over and did exactly that.
Cecil chuckled dryly. "Told you."
Johnny wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, groaning. "Next time, warn me before you teleport me halfway across the country, man."
"Eh, you'll get used to it," Cecil said, motioning him to follow. "Welcome to the Pentagon, kid."
"The what?!" Johnny's eyes went wide as he finally looked around. Sleek metal corridors stretched ahead of him, armed personnel and technicians passing by with military precision. Each wore badges, earpieces, or lab coats—none of them paid much attention to him, though a few did steal curious glances.
Cecil started walking briskly. "C'mon. I got a lot to show you."
Johnny jogged after him, still slightly dizzy. "You could've told me we were going to the Pentagon! That's, like… national security level stuff, right?"
Cecil smirked. "Kid, you are national security level stuff."
They passed through at least half a dozen reinforced doors, each one unlocking with a hiss as Cecil pressed his badge against the scanner. Johnny glanced around each time — rooms full of computers, armed guards, engineers watching holograms of battle simulations. Everything screamed classified.
Finally, they stopped in front of a massive titanium door marked RESTRICTED AREA — LEVEL OMEGA ACCESS ONLY.
Cecil glanced back at him. "Ready?"
"Not really," Johnny muttered.
The door slid open with a deep mechanical growl.
As soon as it opened, Johnny stepped inside—and then froze.
The room beyond looked like a mix between a military gym and a sci-fi movie set. The walls shimmered with heat-resistant plating, automated turrets hung from the ceiling, and multiple high-speed drones hovered idle in standby mode. In the center of the floor, a reinforced testing chamber waited — with scorch marks all across it.
"Whoa…" Johnny breathed. "This… this is for me?"
Cecil nodded, hands in his pockets. "Had my team throw it together fast. Fireproof alloys, adaptive shielding, variable gravity — everything designed to push your powers to the limit."
Johnny turned to him, still stunned. "You— you built all this just for me?"
Cecil shrugged. "Don't flatter yourself. We needed to know how far you can go before you accidentally burn a city block."
"Right…" Johnny muttered, his awe dimming into nervous laughter.
Cecil's tone softened slightly. "But don't get it twisted, kid. This isn't charity." He took a few steps closer, his voice dropping. "You train here, you get stronger, you learn to control your powers. And in exchange… you work for me."
Johnny blinked. "Work for you? Like, as a soldier?"
"Not a soldier," Cecil replied. "More like… a specialist. When the world catches fire, I call you to put it out." He gave a faint smirk. "Figuratively, of course."
Johnny crossed his arms, his hesitation obvious. "I don't know. It sounds like a lot. I barely know what I'm doing out there."
Cecil pulled out a small tablet, tapped a few times, and turned the screen toward him.
Johnny looked. Then blinked. Then looked again.
The number displayed on the screen nearly made his jaw drop.
"Wait, that's… that's what you'd pay me?"
"Monthly," Cecil said casually.
Johnny's mind short-circuited for a moment. "That's more than I'd make in, like, ten years flipping burgers in Burger Mart!"
"Probably," Cecil said with a half-smile. "So? You still doubting?"
Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to grin too hard. "…Yeah, no, I think my doubts just caught fire and died."
Cecil chuckled, handing him a keycard. "Welcome aboard, Human Torch. The training starts tomorrow morning."
Johnny looked down at the keycard, at the Pentagon logo stamped over his name, and felt a weird mix of nerves and excitement building in his chest.
Blue static filled the air again, wrapping around Johnny like electric fog.
"Wait—hold on! You're doing it again?" Johnny yelled, trying to brace himself.
Cecil gave him a casual nod. "You'll get used to it."
"Wait, I—"
FLASH!
Johnny reappeared in the middle of his apartment, stumbling forward and almost crashing into his couch. His stomach churned like he'd just gone twelve rounds with gravity itself.
"Ugh, man…" he groaned, pressing a hand to his forehead. "I'm gonna need a teleport punch card or something."
His phone buzzed on the table, and a notification popped up: Unknown Number
He sighed and picked it up.
"Tomorrow morning," said Cecil's voice on the other end. "Same time, same method. Don't eat breakfast before I grab you — trust me on that one."
"Yeah, I think I learned that the hard way," Johnny muttered.
"Good. And try to get some sleep, kid. Tomorrow's a big day after all."
The line cut, leaving Johnny staring at his reflection in the black screen.
He was excited, as every day, he went further and further away from his life before this, he wasn't just some lonely nobody in Chicago anymore. And what was best, is that he was gonna get paid for it. No more, breakfast noodles for him.
He dropped the phone on the couch, glanced once at the glowing city outside his window, and smiled faintly. "Guess I better not screw this up."
Then he turned off the lights and collapsed onto the bed, still half-wondering if any of this was even real.
---
Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away, Cecil closed his communicator and exhaled through his nose. He stood inside the Pentagon's observation deck, the faint hum of the teleport array still echoing in the room.
Donald, standing beside him with a tablet in hand, raised an eyebrow. "You sure about this, Cecil?"
Cecil glanced sideways. "You sound like you're questioning my judgment."
"Not your judgment," Donald replied calmly. "Your optimism." He turned the tablet toward him, showing Johnny's file — 'Subject: Jonathan Storm / Alias: Human Torch. Age: 17.' "He's a teenager. He's still in high school. You're recruiting a kid to fight monsters and… whatever else is coming next."
Cecil slid his hands into his coat pockets. "You think I don't know that?"
"I think you do," Donald said quietly, "but you're pretending it doesn't matter."
Cecil's eyes narrowed, his tone turning grim. "We don't have the luxury to pretend anymore, Donald. The Guardians are dead — our best defense was wiped out in a single night. And the guy who did it? He's still out there."
Donald hesitated. "…You still think it was Omni-Man."
Cecil's jaw tightened. "I know it was Omni-Man. But until I can prove it, we keep it quiet. No panic. No chaos."
He turned toward the reinforced glass wall overlooking the training chamber below.
"And if we're going to have any chance of stopping him when the time comes," Cecil continued, with his voice on a low and hard tone, "we're gonna need new blood. Kids or not."
Donald sighed, tapping his pen against the tablet. "I just hope the kid doesn't burn out before he gets the chance to prove you right."
Cecil smirked faintly. "Oh, he'll burn, alright." He looked at the empty training floor, where Johnny would be training tomorrow. "Let's just hope he burns the right things."
Donald glanced toward the same spot, uneasy. "You sound like you're betting the world on him."
Cecil didn't answer right away. He simply adjusted his collar and started walking toward the elevator.
"Not the world," he said finally. "Just the future."
(An hour later at Johnny's Apartment…)
Johnny was half-asleep on his bed, sprawled out with a blanket over him and a half-eaten bag of chips on his chest when his phone buzzed again.
He groaned, fumbling for it without even opening his eyes. "Cecil, if this is about more training or another teleport, I swear—"
He stopped mid-sentence when he glanced at the screen.
Unknown Number.
He frowned. "Weird… again?" He sat up, rubbed his eyes, and hit "accept."
"Hello?"
"Hey, hothead."
Johnny froze. That voice wasn't Cecil's, he knew that voice. And for a second, he thought his tired brain was hallucinating. "Eve?"
"Bingo," she said, her tone amused. "Took you long enough to recognize me. What, did I catch you napping?"
"Uh—no, I was just… training. Mentally," Johnny said quickly, trying to sound composed but failing miserably.
Eve laughed softly on the other end. "Sure you were. Look, I hope you don't mind me calling — Robot gave me your number from the emergency contact list."
Johnny blinked. "Wait, there's an emergency contact list?!"
"Relax, it's only for the team," she said. "He thought it'd be good if we could reach you in case something comes up."
"Oh. Cool, yeah. That's… totally fine." He scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. "Just wasn't expecting a call from, y'know, Atom Eve."
Eve chuckled. "You can just say Eve, Johnny."
"Right. Eve." He smiled, trying to play it off casual even though his pulse had gone up like three notches. "So, uh, what's up?"
"Just wanted to check on you," she said. "After the whole Moleman thing and all that chaos, Robot mentioned you disappeared pretty quick. Thought maybe you'd like a proper thank-you."
Johnny felt heat rise to his cheeks — which, for a guy who literally caught fire daily, was saying something. "You're thanking me? I should be thanking you. You and the team saved my butt out there."
"Still," she said, and there was a genuine warmth in her voice now. "You did great for someone who jumped into a giant monster fight on their first day. That takes guts."
Johnny grinned, rubbing the back of his neck again. "Or stupidity. Fifty-fifty chance either way."
"That's what being a hero is sometimes," Eve said with a laugh. "Anyway, I just wanted you to know you did good out there. And if you ever want to train with someone who won't make you puke like Cecil's program apparently does, I'm around."
Johnny's eyes widened. "Wait—you know about Cecil?!"
"I have my sources," she said lightly. "Let's just say the Teen Team has friends in high places."
"Right…" Johnny said slowly, still not quite believing how casually she'd just invited him to train together. "I mean, yeah, that'd be great. I could use the practice. Just, uh… not at six a.m., right?"
Eve giggled. "No promises. Heroes don't exactly keep nine-to-five schedules."
He leaned back on the couch, smiling faintly, trying not to sound too eager. "Guess I'll have to adjust, then."
There was a pause — a comfortable one. Johnny could hear her faint breathing on the other end, meanwhile he was hesitating on if he should say something else. Maybe ask her out but then he remembered:
She has a boyfriend, don't be stupid! He thought quickly deciding against the idea.
"Well, I'll let you get some rest," Eve said finally, after the few seconds of uncomfortable silence. "Just wanted to say hi. Oh, and… don't burn your couch, okay?"
Johnny glanced at the couch — which now had a small scorch mark from earlier training — and quickly threw a blanket over it. "Too late—uh, I mean, no problem!"
Eve laughed again, soft and genuine. "Goodnight, Johnny."
"Night, Eve," he said, smiling to himself as the call ended.
He stared at the phone for a few seconds longer, still half in disbelief. Then he exhaled, grinning like an idiot.
"Okay," he muttered, sinking back into the bed. "Yeah. Today wasn't bad at all even with the death of the Guardians…God, I can't believe I said that."
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