145th Street on the Hudson River, Harlem
The NYDS Sewage Treatment Plant

Morris Bench stared up through watery eyes at the flaming, mocking figure that hovered far overhead, just out of reach. He could hear the boy taunting him, threatening him with his fire, but Morris had never been impressed, not in all the times he had fought the fire-boy before. He was just another hero, another punk trying to get in his way.

Morris clenched, gritting his ‘teeth’ against the pain and raised his arms high, spewing wide gouts of rushing water at the flaming figure. The boy was quick and easily dodged. Not as stupid as he used to be either as he stayed well out of range- at least so far. The boy had some surprises coming though, if things went as Morris Bench hoped. Soon enough he would have the power to defeat any of the city’s heroes, the flaming Human Torch included- not that that was anything to brag about. Fire always beat water…

Morris watched as Johnny Storm flitted about, arching and soaring through the sky like he was so bad- so much better than anyone else. Morris could fly too- not like the Torch, but in the water he was just as graceful, just as impressive. Get Storm in the water and the Hydro-Man would show him a thing or two. That was the problem though, wasn’t it?

The Hydro-Man winced as the pain shot through his body again. He could feel the odd chemicals of the Sewage Treatment Plant coursing through the fluids of his body, and it hurt. It should not hurt so bad. He had been so sure that it would work. He had heard all the stories how people got changed with queer radiations, exposed to mysterious gases and bizarre chemicals. Hell, he was already a Marvel- it should have been easy. Mix his fluids with the chemicals of the Plant and improve his powers. Imagine the look on the Torch’s face when he got blasted with a face full of acid, or Spider-Man getting soaked with an industrial cleaner-

“Arrghh!”

Bench doubled over, his body still gushing as the pain shot through him again. It wasn’t going right. It shouldn’t hurt so much, shouldn’t hurt at all…

“Aww, what’s the matter, Sunshine? Belly ache?”

Morris Bench looked up to see the huge, orange rocky form of the Thing suddenly standing before him. The hero was smiling as best he could, smirking, his stony face twisted queerly to accommodate his weird visage. Bench tried to speak, tried to tell the hero that he was hurting but the Thing just chuckled, not even caring. He could see the misshapen creature’s arm winding back, his huge hand curled into a fist, swooping forward-

“It’s Clobberin’ Time!”

WATER, WATER EVERYWHERE

By Curtis Fernlund

Reed Richards watched as Ben Grimm attacked the Hydro-Man. As expected, Ben’s blow was devastating, but did little really to stop the villain. Water spewed from Morris Bench’s body upon impact, and Hydro-Man himself seemed shaken, but somehow his body quickly reformed, holding cohesion and actually retaliating before the Thing could follow up his attack. Bench raised his arms and washed Ben in a torrent of water, a deluge far more powerful than a fire hose or hydrant, and the villain actually bowled the bigger man over, washing him away if just a bit.

Truly remarkable.

Reed wondered just how the Hydro-Man seemed to replenish his fluid molecules. Like the Sandman he seemed to have an unending supply of resources. He wondered briefly if Bench actually drew water from the air, but there had never been any mention of an area of dehydrated air mass in any previous encounters. Could the fluids regenerate automatically? Was it some side effect of the Hydro-Man’s own unique physiology, or a deviant strain of his powers not yet explored? It bore investigation. If his regenerative abilities could be exploited on a wider scale it could quite possibly prove a solution to the endless droughts that staggered whole cultures and continents. It could prove the solution for dozens of problems for practical interstellar travel, not to mention so many factors involving radiation containment.

Richards noted as the Torch flew in close blasting away that the Hydro-Man’s liquefied body seemed a bit more resilient than it had in the past. Reed could tell that Johnny’s flame bursts were intensely hot, but the fire actually seemed to be glancing off Bench, a filmy residue burning, some form of epidermis-like sheen surrounding him deflecting the fire. Too, when Ben attacked on a more physical level his blows did not seem to disrupt the villain’s form as it once would have. The Thing’s mightiest blows seemed to cleave almost solid chunks out of the mutate’s body- said chunks then dispersing once free of the man himself, but his fluid form quickly regenerated, water rushing to fill the void.

Curiouser and curiouser…

Could Bench’s mad attempt to augment his powers- as that was the only logical explanation for exposing himself to the dangerous chemicals of the plant- could it have actually worked? It seemed absurd of course. Science did not work that way, but stranger things had happened.

“Reed?”

His train of thought broken, Mister Fantastic turned to find his wife pointing off and away from the battle. He shifted his gaze to where she indicated and saw that a crowd of onlookers was gathering at the battle’s edge, far too close for comfort.

“The police seem to have the northbound lanes blocked, but the southbound of the parkway’s a snarl and the people are getting out of their cars to see what’s happening. I see cameras.”

“Mmmn…” Reed nodded, looking at the long, clogged artery backed far up the Hudson River Drive as far as he could see even hovering far overhead as he and Susan still were in the Fantasticar- the Flying Bathtub, he corrected himself. He hated that name.

“Give the police a hand Sue,” he said, returning his attention to the fight, sure in his wife’s abilities to handle the situation. “I’m formulating a plan however, and I’ll probably need you soon.”

“Like I’m going anywhere?”

Reed smiled, watching from his peripheral vision as his wife, the Invisible Woman smirked and barely knitted her brow with concentration. Immediately he saw a thin wall of dust and gravel, road debris rise up before the advancing crowd of onlookers. Susan had raised an invisible force wall but knew enough to gather some dirt within its folds lest the crowd impact it and hurt themselves. Even so a few in the front thumped into the barrier and Reed sighed knowing that someone in the group would try to sue them.

Water spewed high, like a geyser and Reed saw the Hydro-Man’s arms had changed into spouts of rushing water, a seemingly endless supply that tracked the Torch as he weaved and dodged trying to get out of range. Back at ground level he saw Ben still hammering uselessly against Bench’s liquid form, and Morris Bench for his part still seemed unaffected by either of his teammate’s assaults. Hydro-Man did look frenzied however. His head was jerking about frantically as though he could not focus and there was a steady drone of profanity coming from his mouth whenever he became solid enough to speak. The chemicals were definitely affecting him.

Mister Fantastic watched a bit longer. Johnny and Ben were keeping the villain occupied if nothing else, and Susan was urging the crowds back and away until the NYPD could set up a proper cordon. Finally too, in the distance Reed could see the unmistakable silhouette of the SHIELD containment vehicle; a wide hovercraft skimming down the Hudson River from some base north no doubt. He estimated less than thirty seconds time before the craft docked, judging its current breakneck speed, and possibly another two minutes for the personnel aboard to come into play. It was time to end this then…

“Ben,” Reed said over his communicator, “keep Bench’s attention for a few moments, but be ready to strike when I give the signal-

“Johnny, I want you to increase the temperature of your flame enough to bring Hydro-Man to a boil-“

“But I’ve been hitting him with fire way hotter than that Reed and it’s done zilch!”

Reed sighed, “I know that, Son, but I want you to envelop him in a pocket of heat, not blast him. I need you to bring his fluid body to a boil, as hot and quick as you can manage. And mind Ben, he’ll be right there-“

“I can take it, Stretcho,” Grimm chuckled. “Kid ain’t able ta git hot enough ta bother me.”

“Just the same… Johnny?”

“On it Reed!”

Richards watched as the Human Torch started to glow brighter, just sort of white hot. It took only seconds, and soon Johnny was redirecting the heat into the immediate area surrounding the watery form of Morris Bench. Richards heard Hydro-Man’s grumbling grow louder, his movements grow more agitated as his body temperature started to quickly rise. Bubbles started to appear within his form, and finally vapors of steam began to rise into the air-

“Get ready, Ben,” Mister Fantastic said, finally turning to his wife. “I’ll need you to catch Bench, surround him after I give Ben the signal to strike.”

“Of course,” the Invisible Woman said raising an eyebrow, waiting for the other shoe to drop. Reed smirked-

“Get him totally enclosed in a field. Do not let a drop escape. He’ll be hot, his body agitated, the molecules of his body aggravated beyond belief from Johnny’s assault. I’ll need you to separate the chemicals that he’s inundated himself with while his molecular structure is in flux.”

“That’s incredibly fine work, Reed.”

“I know, but like water and oil, the chemicals he’s ingested into his form should separate as his body boils. It should be simple for the most part for you to dredge his body of foreign substance and hopefully get him back to some semblance of normalcy that we can easily contain. Can you do it?”

Susan Richards laughed, “Reed, you have to ask?”

Richards smiled and returned his attention to Hydro-Man. Johnny was pouring on the heat and Bench was screaming, though whether from rage or pain Reed did not know. He could not imagine the agony that the villain was enduring, every molecule of his liquefied body agitated and super-heated. As Reed suspected too, once the water that made up the Hydro-Man’s body began to boil at the extreme heat that the Torch was employing, Bench lost control over his powers and was in truth barely able to hold his form together.

“Ben! Go!”

Reed Richards watched as the Thing reared back and delivered what he probably considered to be his ‘best Sunday punch’ directly into the Hydro-Man’s midsection. Water spewed out in all directions with the impact of the blow. As expected, Bench could not contain his form with the sudden influx of both force and mass, the resultant connection sending his molecules flying-

“Sue…”

He had not had to say a word as he saw the form of Hydro-Man splatter against the Invisible Woman’s all-encompassing force field. Bench’s broken form surged in the ever-tightening bubble as his wife concentrated slightly, trying to hold him at bay as she shifted through his make-up. Richards could see some of the more obvious chemicals being segregated from Bench’s watery form; waves of invisible force sifting through the still-boiling liquid, separating more and more like a wash through a sieve.

“Sue?”

She was sweating, her gaze locked on the boiling ball of water trapped within one of her force spheres. Her tongue poked from the corner of her full lips, her hands out before her, arms outstretched and fingers wiggling as she pried H2O from more complicated elements and compounds.

“Most…” she said, her voice deep and breathy, “harder than I thought. There’s something there, fighting me…”

“Keep at it,” Reed said, wanting to hold her hand, put his hand on her shoulder for comfort but knowing it would be more distraction than aid-

“Johnny!” he shouted, suddenly realizing what need to be done now. “Draw the heat back, quick as you can!”

“Got’cha, Boss man…”

Reed watched as waves of heat rolled off of the invisible sphere that contained the formless mass of Hydro-Man. Sue had reduced the villain to little more than a ball of water, and now as Johnny quickly called back all of the heat, that ball started to crystallize and freeze.

Mister Fantastic saw the Thing wavering in the sudden temperature surge, but true to his heroic stature, Ben did not fall back. Nor did Sue he noted, though she was holding tight to the rails of the Bathtub-

“Sue?”

“I’m…” she gasped, gritting her teeth and finding her focus, “I’m fine. Do it!”

“Hit it Ben!” Reed shouted without hesitation, and almost before he finished the sentence he saw the Thing rear back and strike the crystallizing ball of ice that had been the Hydro-Man. There was a sound of glass shattering as the ball of ice fragmented into a million pieces. Some shards were clear and sparkling while others were clouded with the separated chemicals. Regardless, the Hydro-Man had little control of his form thus changed- much like the Absorbing Man’s body when changed to glass. He would reform, eventually, but it would take far too long for him to be a problem again for some time.

“Hold him, Sue.” Reed glanced at his wife and saw the relief in her face as the heat was gone, and the cold, and the force of the Thing’s blow. Too he saw the SHIELD containment team rushing forward to take charge. Within moments they would have Bench secured in whatever holding facility they had brought and they would start to settle the situation in the area. Fury was at least as good as his word in that. Finally he placed a hand gingerly on her shoulder and she turned to him with a smile.

Reed smiled in return, but his thoughts were already racing, calculating the possible and probable variances of the Hydro-Man’s mad scheme. What, he wondered, could have prompted Bench to expose himself to unknown chemicals on the very remote chance that they might enhance his powers? From what he recalled of Bench’s personality and mentality he could not imagine that the man had come up with that on his own.

Curiouser and curiouser…

James Woo lit a cigarette and watched as the SHIELD Hazardous Containment Unit transferred the frozen shattered remains of Morris Bench, Hydro-Man from the spherical force field of the Invisible Woman into a pressurized canister of CO2 for permanent residence and transport- at least for the time being. The NYPD was cooperating for once, organizing the confusion on the Hudson River Drive and getting the commuters back on track with little effort and no unwarranted violence whatsoever. Even the denizens of Harlem seemed satisfied with the result and were returning to their homes, happy with the chance to get out of the heat again now that the excitement was over. Woo wiped his brow with a handkerchief, dabbing under his chin as Richards and his crew approached after debriefing. It was damn hot…

Woo saw Richards and his crew approaching, looking none the worse for wear. It had been Hydro-Man after all, despite the oddness of whatever his goals had been. The Fantastic Four could fight Hydro-Man in their sleep, hardly a challenge at all. Still, Reed Richards looked somewhat annoyed at the interruption, and his wife seemed a bit put out. The Thing and the Torch were waving to the news crews that had assembled, oblivious.

Richards was wearing the old original Fantastic Four costume of blue and black trim, the original. His wife was wearing an old version as well, a modified outfit from sometime earlier in their illustrious career; a mini skirt and go-go boots. She looked burnt, but she wore the uniform well. The Torch was dressed in one of the more current versions; a darker blue that was almost black, with white trim at the collar, gloves, boots and belt. The Thing was dressed in baggy blue pants and black boots, his FF symbol emblazoned on the buckle. They all seemed somewhat harried and worn, a ragtag group, but still they walked with pride, as the first family of herodom. The original Marvels…

“Doctor,” Woo said, dragging on his cigarette, “a job well done. I thank you- SHIELD thanks you for your assistance.”

Richards nodded, watching as the shattered form of the Hydro-Man was transferred to the SHIELD Containment vehicle for transport to the Vault.

“Just make sure that Fury notes it in his log, Jimmy,” he said, wrapping an elongated arm about his wife. “Every little bit counts these days it seems.”

“Of course. Professor, and already done. Any idea what prompted Bench to expose himself so? It does not really seem something he would consider of his own accord.”

Richards smirked, wiping at his own sweat as Woo walked the foursome to their craft. “I agree. I have no idea however as to his rationale. Odds suggest he was working with someone, or more likely someone was using him. Morris Bench was never one of the smartest villains, but I doubt that even he would expose himself to harmful chemicals in the off chance that that might augment his abilities. He would have been better off learning the properties of water itself and better implementing the powers readily available. If Bench ever put his mind to it he might become nigh unbeatable.”

Woo snorted, “God help us if the villains start thing, Professor.”

“Too true Agent Woo.”

Woo watched as Mister Fantastic helped his wife, the Invisible Woman into position into the Flying Bathtub. The Human Torch was standing off to the side, already flaming though he contained the fire so as not to affect any of the surrounding street. He could see the crowds far away, held back by SHIELD field agents and police dressed in riot gear, standard procedure in New York these days with the current state of affairs with terrorist threats and the unending flow of super-villains like Hydro-Man. The NYFD was on the scene as well, securing the last of the blaze still sparking in the Plant. The Torch had drawn away the fire of course, but it was an election year and the fire department needed its funding.

“So, what’s up Fury’s butt theses days, Woo?”

James Woo tried not to jump at the gravelly voice suddenly grating behind him, but he still flinched. He turned to find Ben Grimm, the Thing looming over him. He was not quite as massive as the Hulk, nor as tall as Thor, but in his own way Ben Grimm was every bit as imposing, and impressive-

“What do you mean, Ben?” Woo asked, knowing full well what the Thing was eluding to. Fury’s standing orders were to keep the Marvels- all of them and not just the Fantastic Four- in the dark.

“C’mon, Jimmy,” the Thing continued shaking his head. “We been tight ever since that Yellow Claw thing way back when. What’s happening? I ain’t seen the old man this tight since Havana’s were on the blacklist.”

Woo took a final drag on his cigarette then tossed it to the street, flicking it into the gutter. “I’m sorry Ben,” he said with a frown, “I don’t know what you mean.”

There were times when it was hard to read the Thing’s emotions, as his rocky visage barely changed unless shifting to the extreme. Woo however saw his old friend sag and a frown crack along his stony jaw-

“Okay, Jimmy. Ain’t no harm, I ain’t gonna press. I know you got bosses an’ protocols. Put in a good word though, hunh? This shit’s getting’ old fast.”

“Of course, my friend.”

Woo nodded to the Thing, who nodded in return. The two had been friends for years, though they hardly saw one another. It hurt somewhat, keeping his silence. Still he watched as the Thing climbed into his compartment of the Fantasticar and moments later craned his neck, shielding his eyes as the craft raised skyward into the glare of the sun. The Human Torch flew off as well, under his own power. But for the novelty of their unique gifts it was almost a family outing. James Woo watched until the Bathtub vanished into the haze clogging the air downtown, then turned back to the crime scene to secure the area for the final analysis.

Reaching into his black suit jacket he produced another cigarette and lit it as he walked back down the slight slope of hill towards the Plant and the Hudson. There was little left to do on scene actually, and a few hours worth of paperwork once he finally returned to base. His mind drifted to other things.

He hoped to all the Hells that Fury knew what he was doing this time…

42nd Street and Madison Avenue, Manhattan
The Baxter Building

Benjamin J. Grimm steered the Fantasticar through the gaping hole in the side of the Baxter Building, easing the craft through what would one day be one of the upper story office floors, but for now was the temporary residence of the Fantastic Four. There were boxes and crates piled high along the half-finished walls. Wiring hung limply from the ceiling and rolls of insulation sat bound on a pallet ready to be unfurled and used. Light bulbs secured in mesh cages hung sporadically throughout the open space cutting through the queer gloom and odd shadows with a harsh glare.

Ben settled the craft on the marked off area of reinforced floor where they had been storing the smaller version of the Fantasticar for when needed. Grimm’s Sky Cycle sat not too far away covered with a tarp and one of the old one man Sky Sleds that they hardly ever used sat half-assembled, leaning against a pallet jack stacked high with tar paper. Grimm powered down the Bathtub as he took a long look at the unfinished floor. It seemed desolate despite the construction material scattered throughout, and depressing. Not quite deserted however as Ben saw two SHIELD Agents stalking towards them as well as one of Stark’s on-loan security team dressed in a modified version of Guardsman armor. As soon as they got within earshot they all started talking at once, louder and louder-

“Professor Richards! Fury was just online and wants a full report as soon as-“

“Mister Stark needs the financial reports from 2002 and 2003 before Con Edison’s initial survey. He-“

“You really should inform us personally when you are off premises, Professor. Security has to be informed and-“

Ben blinked as the two men and one woman came to an abrupt halt, slamming hard into something that just wasn’t there. The Guardsman was unhurt of course, just startled, but the two SHIELD Agents both started rubbing their noses and Ben saw that the woman was bleeding. He turned slightly and saw the slightest smirk of satisfaction on Sue Richard’s face and he chuckled-

“Way ta go, Suzy,” he whispered, climbing out of the Bathtub and shuffling off towards the rooms that they had hobbled together for their living quarters. He could hear Sue taking charge- she was the Exec after all, and she did not sound happy, her voice going cold and sharp-

“Now is not the time people. Give us a few minutes to freshen up and I’ll deal with you then, and only then, in the conference area.”

“But Mrs. Richards…“

Ben laughed as he shoved the door to his room open and stepped inside. He could not remember when it had been such a hassle to do the right thing. They had all been down and out before, blacklisted from the Superhero Community, on the wrong side of both the law and public opinion for one reason or another, but he could not ever recall being so in debt that they were at the beck and call of the government. Stark wasn’t so bad, of course. Tony had been a good friend and a big help over the years. Course, so had Fury until recently. Times changed, people changed, apparently not for the better.

Grimm closed the door to his small room with a sigh and concentrated slightly. Within a few heartbeats he felt his clothes start to loosen slightly, his vision lowering as his body lost both height and mass. He started to feel the ache in his muscles almost immediately, and his heart hammered as it tried to catch up to his more human functions, his flesh and blood body.

As always he felt the brief dizziness as his blood pressure adjusted, and he leaned back against the wall until his head stopped throbbing and his breathing steadied. He cast his gaze over the small rooms that were his apartments for the duration; a bedroom with little more than a bed and a few boxes that contained his clothes, and this main room that was stacked high with cardboard boxes of stuff that he had gathered over the years, pulled out of storage when the team needed to liquidate funds and moved here. Wasn’t even a bathroom- that was down the hall outside.

Ben strolled across the untiled floor, clicking on the battery-operated television then grabbing a beer from the small refrigerator humming slightly in one corner of the main room. He fell into his easy chair and leaned back, feeling his neck and back popping as he stretched. He was tired. Hydro-Man had given them a workout for a bit at least, and now he ached. He was getting out of shape, or maybe he was just getting old.

He stared at the tiny screen of the television, watching as Janice Huff foretold of several more days of August humidity, promising thundershowers and a break by the weekend. He drank his beer, his eyelids drooping.

After a bit he remembered the letter and started to rise. Now would be as good a time as any to read it. He hesitated, then slumped back into his chair, cursing under his breath. He had left the letter with his jacket with Colly…

He sighed and settled back, reaching for a cigar from the small box balancing on the edge of one of the nearer cardboard boxes. The cigars were Havana-made, and expensive, a peace offering from Fury. Like a cigar would make up for all the recent headaches that the Director of SHIELD had put them through.

Ben sighed again then puffed the cigar to life as he focused on the tiny television screen. At least the matchstick wasn’t around to set this one to blaze, bastard.

He hoped Johnny was making out all right…

Prologue One:

Fourth Avenue at Baltic Street
Brooklyn, NY

Johnny Storm stepped out of the dim stairwell and into the bright, dazzling sunlight onto the streets of Brooklyn. He shielded his eyes against the sudden glare, his eyes quickly adjusting to the brightness faster than a normal person’s might due to his cosmically altered body. Likewise the wave of humidity and high temperatures that seemed to be making everyone else within sight miserable did not bother him at all. Down in the subway tunnels, the other passengers were sweating and sullen, hating to be forced into the cramped and steaming underground. He could see the misery in their eyes, they way they seemed to sag and slump as the oppressive, stifling heat weighed them down. Johnny had simply shrugged and smiled.

Hot and cold even to the extremes had not been a problem for him in years. Not since that fateful rocket flight that had changed his life forever, not since he became the Human Torch! And that was part of the problem. Oh, not that he hated what he had become, on the contrary. Johnny Storm loved being the Human Torch as well as being a member of the world’s greatest super team; the Fantastic Four- his family. He would not trade the last few years, good and bad times combined, for anything. But recently, well, it just seemed there should be something more to it.

Recently it seemed that life in the Fantastic Four had become one battle leading to the next, one calamity after another. Since the destruction of the Alexandria Space Station and the deaths of Noah Baxter and his crew and how many innocents in Manhattan with the failed teleportation attempt of the new Baxter Building the public seemed cold and distant- distrustful. And who could blame them? If Johnny were not on the inside, just another pedestrian on the streets he would probably feel the same way. Now the law suits, the bankruptcy and takeover by SHIELD and STARK, the still constant battles…

What had started as an adventure was turning into a job. A job that Johnny was starting to resent, if not hate, and that meant that it was a time for a change. Not quitting really- he had tried that trick before. They all had at least once, some more than others, but they all seemed to come back eventually. Back to home, back where they all belonged. Still, one did not have to quit to effect change…

Johnny Storm glanced up and about as he withdrew the folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket. He saw the Williamsburg Bank Tower behind him; the tallest building towering over Brooklyn’s skyline. He had seen it before of course, many times from a distance but oddly he had never been so close that he had actually been in its shadow so to speak. As the Human Torch he had had battles all over the Five Boroughs. Hell he had been to other galaxies, but as Johnny Storm he had never visited Brooklyn or Queens just as a tourist since the rocket flight. He could not recall ever going to Staten Island at all. Changes…

With the Tower at his back Johnny checked the address he had scribbled down against the street signs and finally started walking. It had taken him hours to track down the address both on the telephone and then a flight to a nursing home out on Long Island not too far from where he had grown up. That had been depressing as hell, but in the end he was glad that he had made the trip. It had been good to see the old stomping grounds, some of the familiar sights and faces. Some, but not all.

It was only a few short blocks until he came upon the garage right there on Fourth Avenue. It was called simply ‘Duke’s’ and was little more than a small jutting house that opened right up on the avenue. There were cars scattered along the block obviously in need of repair, old tires stacked high against the faded orange walls and a tow truck half-parked up on the sidewalk. Johnny could smell the old familiar scent of burning grease and gasoline, the choking smoke of exhaust that he had grown up with. He heard a clanging, hammering sound coming from within the dark confines of the garage proper and started to tingle with anticipation. Taking a deep breath to screw up his courage, Johnny strode inside.

There was a PT Cruiser raised slightly on a hydraulic lift and Johnny saw a pair of legs poking out from underneath. The source of the hammering was obvious as it abruptly cut off and the legs jerked. A string of curses followed as the man beneath the car slid out on a low boy, spinning about with his greasy thumb jammed in his mouth and tears in his eyes. When he saw Johnny standing there his eyes narrowed and he looked suspiciously at the unannounced intruder, his free hand clutching the haft of the hammer still-

“C’n uh hlp eew, ummn?” he said around his thumb and Johnny laughed.

“Hello, Duke.” Johnny watched as the man on the floor slowly stared, finally lowering his bloody thumb and climbing to his feet. He wiped his hands with a grease-stained rag as Johnny removed the Yankees cap he had worn as a partial disguise. Apparently it had worked as the man, Duke’s eyes widened in surprise and recognition-

“Holee sh- Johnny?” the man smiled widely, reaching out his hand and wincing as Johnny gripped it, shaking. “Johnny Storm! I do not believe it! It’s been years. How’d you know where t’ find me?”

Johnny’s smile faded as he put his hand on his old friend’s shoulder. He had not seen Duke Dixon in years, back when they were both still teenagers living in Long Island and working on cars together, rebuilding old and abandoned junkers into sleek roadsters. Duke had put on weight, lost a little hair but in all looked okay, if just older. Johnny wondered how he looked to Duke, knowing that his cosmically altered body seemingly did not show only the slightest wear and tear of age. That mortality had figuratively slapped him in the face when he had gone to the nursing home-

“I saw your mother, Duke,” Johnny said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.”

Duke frowned and nodded, turning slightly and wiping the tears from the corners of his eyes, feigning the pain in his thumb as the cause. When he turned again he was forcing a smile-

“Thanks pal,” he said, “means a lot coming from you. Jenny told you where I was?”

“Your sister? No, I never saw her. The receptionist at the home gave me the address for an autograph,” Johnny shrugged. “What can I say?”

“High price of bein’ a celebrity, hunh?” Duke chuckled. “So, what brings the world famous Human Torch to my humble establishment? I assume you went to Long Island looking for me?” Johnny nodded, rubbing the back of his neck as he sheepishly smiled-

“You pegged me Duke. I’m sorry about your Mom, really, but I still gotta ask. I was hoping you could give me a job…”

Outside and across Fourth Avenue the woman dressed in leathers standing astride the modified Harley Scorpion smiled and adjusted the earpiece of her audio transceiver. The short range Trans-dart that she had fired into the dark corners of the mechanic’s shop was working perfectly, she could hear every boring, simpering word in the exchange. She glanced at the glowing display of the local area grid affixed to the motorcycle’s frame and saw that that too was working perfectly. The blinking spot that indicated the location signifying Johnny Storm sparkled brightly just off center of the small display. The transmitter she had attached to Storm’s light jacket just before he entered the subways was still broadcasting effectively.

There had been a bit of confusion as she tried to follow his train’s path between Manhattan and Brooklyn. Why the Torch had chosen to ride with the chattel underground when he could soar the skies was a mystery to her, but then she did not really care. Humans were fools squandering all at their disposal, all that they had, and Johnny Storm was no exception.

She listened for a time as the two men continued to talk. After a time she learned all that she needed to know. The Torch got his employment and would be moving on soon seeking residence in the area. He was settled for now in the garage however, so there was time. From the sounds the two were making they would be speaking- reminiscing for hours.

The woman smiled again and put away the transceiver plug into the relative safety of her MC jacket pocket. She would need to set up a base nearby herself if the Torch was relocating to the lesser borough. She would need to stay near him, within reach and easy access. She needed to transfer some equipment to the Spatial Converter and access some Creds as local Earth currency; dollars. It was annoyingly tedious but necessary. She hated these assignments on backwater worlds, and this one in particular seemed never-ending. Soon however- she hoped.

The woman slipped on her helmet and kick-started the motorcycle to life. The Scorpion was the only thing she liked about the assignment, relishing the barely contained power that coursed through the machine and vibrated through her body. She licked her lips as she settled into the seat, revving the engine, a staggeringly simple plan springing to mind. It was so simple it was ridiculous.

The woman’s laughter was drowned beneath the roar of the Harley as it sped away…

Prologue Two:

The Hutchinson Parkway
Upstate New York…

The truck rolled on slowly, caught up in the herky-jerky flow of rush hour traffic. The line of vehicles of every shape, size and color seemed to stretch on forever both forward and back, surging forward in a mass then slowing again having barely moved another few yards. Henry Canter sighed and set the van to idle before releasing the seals on his helmet and pulling off the faceplate with a hiss of internal air-

“Godammit,” he cursed, leaning across his partner Charlie Jones and opening the glove compartment, scrounging for a crumpled pack of cigarettes. “Damn Nick Fury and his protocols, this sucks!”

“Yah,” Charlie agreed, watching as his partner produced a cigarette and lit it, filling the cramped and humid cab with smoke. His Guardsman armor compensated of course, and he did not smell a thing living off the internal air as he did. Still-

“If Woo had let us go just twenty minutes earlier we’d a missed this shit,” Henry continued, sucking on his cigarette and blowing smoke into the ventilators. If he opened the windows alarms would have sounded. “We ought’a be back t’ base by now, not sittin’ in this crap with the rubes. Fuckin’ Hydro-Man anyway. Who the fuck is he? Two-bit loser ought’a be flushed down the john, ya ask me.”

Charlie Jones giggled under his helmet listening to his partner rant. It was the same thing every time. Henry hated the job so much he should just quit, but Charlie knew not to go there so he settled back to wait, motioning as the line of traffic shifted forward again.

CLANK!

Charlie leaned forward, looking about. “You hear that?”

“Hear what, dude? Ain’t nothin’ but that semi grinding gears.”

“No, it sounded like-“

Charlie’s eyes widened as the van seemingly began to rise. The vehicles all around disappeared as the Vault transfer rig lifted slowly into the air, building speed. He heard Henry curse as he stamped out his cigarette in the tray and fumbled with his face plate-

“Fuck! Fuck!” he shouted. “We’re under attack!”

“No shit,” Charlie grumbled as he depolarized the glare on the windows against the setting sun, trying to see. They were easily hundreds of feet up in the air now and still going. He had no idea what was going on.

“It’s not Bench!” he shouted as he first checked the onboard computer relay to Hydro-Man’s containment canister, then physically peering back into the dim rear of the van. “He’s still locked-”

“It ain’t Bench!” Henry shouted as he resealed his faceplate to his Guardsman armor. “Look!”

Charlie stared out the main front windscreen at the man in the purple armor and the huge high-domed helmet. He had seen the file often enough to recognize the super-villain. The man smugly smirked and waved as he flew by out of line of sight.

“Shit!” Charlie and Henry cursed in unison as they heard the rear doors of the van explode off their hinges. Both men glanced back as alarms blared in their helmet’s audio, staring as another man in bulky purple fatigues swung into the smoldering back of the rig. They recognized him as well, just before he fired a strange looking gun at the rear paneled window of the cab, coating it with an odd, pasty substance.

“Fuck!”

Both men tried their doors- the Guardsman armor allowed them to fly after all and they knew they had to get out. The doors were locked of course, sealed even, though they did not know-

“Paste!”

The windows were triple-paned and of a glass proof against whatever strength they might generate. The frame of the van was even more resilient. It was a death trap to be sure. Both men cursed and started beating on the doors and windshield, stomping at the floor-

“We’re trapped…” Henry whined, the door’s handle ripping off in his hand. Charlie could hear the catch in his partner’s voice. “God, we’re gonna die…”

The man in the purple armor whizzed by the front of the van again, hovering as he peered within, keeping pace as the truck continued to rise. He smirked and gave a mock salute, then fell away, letting the van continue upwards. In their armor Charlie and Henry could not feel the cold- yet- but both knew that it would not be long. When the van ran out of gas, when their armor ran out of energy…

Henry Canter started to whine and cry and whimper, begging to God for salvation…

Charlie Jones stared out the window in wonder, watching as the world fell away, blurring. He saw the stars soon enough, and they were brilliant.

He had always wanted to be an astronaut…

NEXT ISSUE: Johnny Storm tries to settle into a life away from the Fantastic Four, but he’s not so incognito as he thinks as he is visited by some folk that have issues with him and his family. Join me and Marvel’s First Family as Johnny learns that trees aren’t the only things that grow in Brooklyn… “Fire In The Hole” in one short month, right here at Marvel Omega!