Johnny was staring out the window next to his desk, the gray morning sky reflecting faintly in the glass. Math class droned on behind him — something about parabolas, or maybe it was functions. He had no idea. He couldn't focus. Not today.
All he could think about was Eve.
The image of her walking away from the Teen Team HQ — shoulders stiff, eyes blazing with fury and hurt — kept replaying in his mind. After they confronted Rex, she'd just… left. No words. No reaction to his voice calling after her. She lifted off the ground and disappeared into the rainstorm like a pink comet.
And since then? Nothing.
No texts.
No calls.
Only radio silence.
He sighed, tapping his pencil absently on his notebook. She's strong. I know she's strong… but nobody should have to go through that alone.
"—I'm telling you, man, he's the Human Torch," someone muttered a few desks away, loud enough that Johnny couldn't not hear it.
Johnny blinked, annoyed at being dragged back to reality.
"Dude," another replied, "you actually believe that video? Come on. If the Human Torch was real — or whatever the hell they're calling him — why would he ever step foot in this boring-ass school?"
"Because he has to blend in?" the first kid whisper-shouted back. "I'm serious! My cousin said the government uses actors to fake super footage all the time. So maybe they faked the debunking to protect his identity!"
His friend groaned. "Bro, you watch way too many conspiracy channels."
Johnny hid a grin behind his hand.
Thank God Cecil ran that whole FBI-looking psychological operation, he thought. Fake lab, fake scientists, fake footage proving I was a 'prank-loving pyro influencer' using special effects… the works. And best part? None of the camera angles saw my face.
He relaxed back in his chair. Kids at his school would believe anything except the truth. Lucky him.
"Well, whoever the Human Torch is," the first kid added, "he's badass. If I had powers, I'd totally—"
"Mr. Storm," the teacher's voice snapped.
Johnny straightened in his seat so fast he almost levitated.
"Yes?" he answered, trying to look wildly innocent.
"If your pencil taps any louder, I'm going to assume you're attempting communication on Morse code. Please stop."
A few students snickered. Johnny raised both hands like he was surrendering. "No morse code, I promise."
The teacher gave him a tired look and went back to her equations.
Johnny sighed and looked back out the window. The rain had stopped sometime during the morning, but the sky still looked bruised.
Just like Eve probably felt.
I should check on her, he thought. After class. I'll find her house even if I doesn't know where it is or I'll find her usual training spot or something. I'm not just gonna leave her hanging.
He rested his head against his hand, eyes drifting shut.
He didn't know it yet, but just a few classrooms away — Mark was having the exact same worry.
And Eve?
She wasn't in school at all.
She was somewhere else entirely… and not okay.
---
After the school day ended, he was about to go to the back part of the school to flame on, when a sight surprised him.
In the middle of the students-and-parents crowd stood Doctor Connors —the same man who had been present the day at Oscorp when Johnny gained his powers, and who had run several tests on him before Oscorp abruptly shut down his entire division. Johnny never got those results.
The doctor's eyes darted around the courtyard until they locked onto Johnny, and then he began pushing through the crowd with a stiff, almost frantic urgency.
Johnny's heart skipped.
He looks… bad.
He moved forward too, meeting him halfway near the parking lot.
"Doctor Connors, it's been a while," Johnny said in a formal, polite tone.
"Yes— yes, it's been a while." Connors' voice was tight, his breath shaky. He glanced around again, scanning rooftops, windows, the crowd. Like he was expecting snipers or ghosts.
"Are you okay, Doc? I heard they fired you. I'm really sorry, by the way. I didn't know a stupid accident could cause—"
"Don't worry about it," Connors snapped, forcing a dry smile. "I was working for idiots anyway."
He checked his surroundings again, so paranoid that parents started giving him space.
Johnny frowned.
He really is paranoid… something must have happened.
"Johnny, I need to tell you something," Connors whispered. "It's about your powers. In private."
Johnny froze. "…Okay."
Connors gestured toward a small maintenance building near the football field. They walked quickly, Connors doing that paranoid scan every three steps. When they slipped inside, he closed the door, locked it, and pulled the blinds.
"Doc— you're scaring me."
Connors exhaled and rubbed his face.
"I didn't work alone at Oscorp," he began. "I had a colleague— Dr. Richards. A physicist. A very brilliant one. He helped me run your cellular scans before the division was shut down. We continued the research off the grid."
"You… kept studying me?"
"I had to," Connors said. "Because what we found— Johnny, your powers don't work the way Oscorp assumed."
Johnny crossed his arms, guarding himself with sarcasm. "Okay, then how do they work?"
Connors pulled out a small data tablet from his coat —it was old and scratched, clearly not official lab equipment anymore. With a few taps, he brought up images: scans of Johnny's cells, his skeletal structure, thermal signatures.
"When you ignite," Connors said, "your body doesn't just produce fire. You generate a high-density energy field —a fusion-like reaction contained inside your cells. It's not magic. It's physics at a scale your biology was never intended to handle."
Johnny blinked. "So… I'm a walking nuclear reactor?"
"Not exactly— but close enough," Connors murmured.
He switched to another scan. This one looked darker, almost bruised.
"These are the long-term projections. Your cells regenerate the damage each transformation causes… but only up to a point. Every time you use your powers, microscopic structural damage accumulates faster than your body can repair it."
Johnny swallowed, suddenly feeling the small room shrink.
"So what does that mean?"
Connors hesitated. His Adam's apple bobbed.
This was the part he didn't want to say.
"Johnny," he said softly, "your body isn't built to sustain that level of power. Not for a lifetime. Not even for a normal one."
Johnny felt something cold crawl down his spine.
"…How long?"
Connors closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them with dread.
"I've been… monitoring you," he admitted. "I know how often you've used your powers since the accident. I know when you used them during the Flaxan invasion. And… based on that usage rate…"
He took a breath.
"…you have ten years."
Johnny's heart stopped.
"Ten… years for what?"
Connors looked him dead in the eyes.
"For your body to give out," he said. "For the energy inside you to burn you alive from the inside. Slowly, or suddenly. I—I can't predict the exact end. But unless we find a solution— a containment method, a stabilizer, something— each time you 'flame on'… you lose time."
Johnny stepped back, grabbing the edge of a dusty table. His chest felt tight.
Ten years.
Ten years.
"I'm sorry," Connors whispered, his voice trembling. "I didn't want to tell you like this. But you deserved to know. You needed to know."
Johnny stared at the darkened window, his reflection small, flickering with the memory of flame.
Ten years.
Johnny didn't speak at first.
He couldn't.
His throat was tight, his breathing uneven. The dusty maintenance room felt like it was tilting, closing in on him. Ten years. His body was collapsing and burning alive from the inside.
The words kept echoing, hitting him again and again, each time harder.
"I… I can't…" Johnny whispered, gripping the table so tightly his knuckles turned white. "Doc, I—I'm seventeen. I'm not supposed to have a countdown."
Connors swallowed hard. "I know. And if I could change that—believe me, I would."
Johnny shook his head, he was pacing now, with his hands pulling through his hair.
Ten years.
Ten years to live.
Ten years before everything turned to shit.
"Johnny," Connors said gently, "listen to me. This isn't a death sentence yet."
Johnny stopped and glared at him. "Yet?! Doc, ten years is— that's— that's nothing!"
Connors flinched but didn't back down.
"That's why you need someone smarter than me."
Johnny froze, blinking. "…What?"
Connors took a slow breath.
"I can't save you. I'm not the right man for this." He raised his hands before Johnny could argue. "My background is genetics, not superhuman physiology. And even then—my knowledge is limited. I wouldn't know how to stabilize a fusion-level energy field even if Oscorp hadn't shut me down."
Johnny stared at him, desperate. "Then who can?"
Connors pulled a folded paper from his coat pocket —carefully, like it was something precious. He passed it to Johnny.
A name was written at the top.
Dr. Reed Richards.
"I worked with him," Connors said. "Not officially—Oscorp never hired him, he was too… independent." A small, apologetic smile appeared. "But Richards helped analyze your power readings before they shut us down. He understood things I didn't. Things no one should've understood as quickly as he did."
Johnny blinked, processing.
Reed Richards.
He'd heard that name at the news before —a prodigy, a freak genius, a kid who went to MIT at fourteen.
Some even said he was trying to build a spaceship… or a portal.
"He's a physicist," Connors continued, "but also one of the world's leading experts in superhuman biology. He studies how powers change the body. How they break it. How they can be stabilized."
Johnny felt something flicker inside him —fear mixing with the faintest ember of hope.
"So… he can fix me?"
Connors hesitated, and Johnny's stomach dropped.
"I don't know," the doctor said honestly. "But he's the only person I've met who might be able to. The one person who can look at what's inside you and understand it instead of panicking."
Johnny stared down at the paper in his hand. The name. The phone number and an address.
Reed Richards.
"Why didn't you go to him sooner?" Johnny whispered.
Connors looked away, guilt washing over him. "Oscorp kept everything under surveillance. If they knew I continued the research, I'd be ruined. Worse, you'd be… taken."
Johnny felt a chill. He didn't have to ask what that meant.
"And when they fired me," Connors continued, "I lost access to equipment. To labs. To everything. I kept trying to get Richards to take the lead but—Johnny, he didn't trust me. He doesn't trust… anyone."
Johnny let out a bitter, exhausted laugh. "Great. Perfect. So you're saying I'm dying and the only guy who can save me is a paranoid supergenius hermit."
Connors placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Johnny… you have to go to him. He won't come to you. And you don't have time to waste."
Johnny inhaled shakily.
Ten years. Maybe less.
He looked at the name one more time.
Reed Richards.
And he realized something:
Whether he liked it or not…his life depended on a man he had never met.
"On that case, I will give a visit to this Reed Richards." Said Johnny determined.
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