"Oi, asshole! Don't you dare ignore me!"
A figure wreathed in incandescent plasma, unmistakably Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, blazed past Ranger, then banked sharply, positioning himself directly in Ranger's flight path. Ranger, his velocity unwavering, executed a micro-second course correction, a subtle shift in his thruster output, and dodged the airborne roadblock without a discernible decrease in speed.
"Now you're gonna get it, asshole!" Johnny roared, his voice amplified by the sheer heat radiating from his form. The flames enveloping him burned brighter, hotter, a torrent of superheated plasma erupting from his outstretched hands, rushing towards Ranger. Again, Ranger adjusted, a high-G evasive maneuver that was less a dodge and more a contemptuous disregard, maintaining his trajectory.
"That does it!" Johnny bellowed, his frustration palpable. The air around him shimmered and distorted, burning with an almost solar intensity. His speed increased exponentially, leaving a searing, incandescent trail across the sky. With a final, enraged shout, he launched himself, a human missile of pure fire, and body-slammed Ranger with brutal force. The impact sent both figures tumbling from the sky, a chaotic meteor shower of metal and flame. They crashed into a desolate, industrial wasteland on the city's outskirts, the impact carving a smoking furrow in the earth.
"How do you like that, you Doom lackey?!" Johnny crowed, standing over Ranger's prone, sparking form. "Not so tough now, are ya, pretty boy?" He stomped down hard on Ranger's chest, the sound a sickening crunch of metal. Then again. And again. The superheated plasma from his body licked at Ranger's suit, seams glowing cherry-red, plating beginning to warp and melt under the sustained thermal assault.
Ranger didn't move, didn't react. Johnny stomped even harder, a petulant, furious rhythm. "You ignored the great Johnny Storm for a full half-hour! A half-hour, you hear me?! You think you're some kinda big shot now that you're shacked up with tin-pot tyrants like Doctor Doom? Well, think again, pal!" He punctuated his words by grinding his flaming heel into Ranger's helmeted head.
"And I heard you're arrogant! Even more arrogant than me! That's impossible! No one can be more arrogant than Johnny Storm! No one!" Johnny shouted, his voice ringing with self-aggrandizing fury. "Now look at you! Under my goddamn feet! A fitting place for a second-rate, tin-plated lackey like you!" He kicked Ranger's side for good measure.
"In the war to come, I'm gonna crush Doom just like I'm crushing you right now!" Johnny bellowed, his flames momentarily dimming as he preened, basking in his perceived victory.
"Johnny! For the love of… Johnny, using your powers like this, in broad daylight, over a populated area, is going to bring us nothing but trouble! The generals, the President, they're gonna have my hide for this, you moron!" A resigned sigh, heavy with familial exasperation, preceded Susan Storm as she shimmered into visibility, stepping out of the hovering Fantasti-Car.
"Honestly, Sue, we should just keep Johnny on a damn leash." a rocky, gravelly voice grumbled. Ben Grimm, the Thing, lumbered out of the vehicle, his massive stone frame making the ground tremble slightly. "Otherwise, who the hell knows what kinda international incident the little matchstick's gonna cook up in this upcoming cluster-eff of a war."
"I know, Ben, I know." Susan sighed again, pinching the bridge of her nose. "Johnny, please, please tell me you haven't actually shot down that… flying suit. Tell me he's just taking a nap."
"Of course, I shot him down, sis! What'd you expect?" Johnny puffed out his chest, flames flaring with renewed pride. "You're talking to the Human Torch, after all! That Doom-loving, metal-plated wannabe stood no chance against me!" He gave Ranger's inert form another contemptuous kick, sending him skidding across the scorched earth towards his sister and Ben.
Susan gasped, her hand flying to her mouth as she saw the extent of the damage. Ranger's advanced suit was a mangled wreck, sections melted and fused directly into the flesh beneath, sparking erratically.
Ben Grimm, with a surprising gentleness for a man made of living stone, carefully scooped up Ranger's battered form and carried him towards the Fantasti-Car, placing him in the reinforced back compartment. "Johnny, you arrogant, flame-brained son of a bitch!" Ben roared. "You've really done it this time! You've brought another goddamn mountain of trouble right to the Baxter Building's doorstep! This guy ain't just some random flying tin can! He's a goddamn delegate from Latveria! An official envoy! And Doom himself, Victor Von Goddamn Doom, gave him a Doombot escort! He doesn't do that for just anyone!"
"Like it matters, pebble-puss!" Johnny huffed, still radiating heat and indignation. "We're practically at war with the entire damn world anyway! You think the government's gonna shed a tear over one less Doom-sympathizer, delegate or not?"
"Maintain and check his vitals." Susan commanded, her voice sharp as she addressed the Fantasti-Car's internal AI. Her gaze, filled with a mixture of anger and dawning dread, fixed on her brother. "Johnny. Oh, Johnny. If anything, anything serious happens to him… Doom will join the war against the United States. Without hesitation. Attacking his recently designated, personally escorted delegate? That's not just an attack, Johnny; that's a direct, public insult to Doom's pride. And an attack on Doom's pride is tantamount to a formal declaration of all-out war from Latveria. You know his ego!"
"As if Doom would be stupid enough to attack the entire country when it's already gearing up for a global conflict!" Johnny roared back, his arrogance still stubbornly refusing to acknowledge the severity of the situation.
"You wanna bet on it, hothead?" Susan snapped, her voice dangerously quiet. "You wanna gamble that Victor Von Doom, the man who considers himself the rightful ruler of this planet and everything, will show you, personally, any mercy for this stunt?" That finally seemed to penetrate Johnny's bravado, a flicker of unease in his eyes.
"The generals, even the President, they'll do their damn best to control the diplomatic fallout." Ben Grimm added, his voice a low rumble of grim certainty. "But if they can't smooth this over, if Doom demands retribution… they'll sacrifice you, flame-brain, to appease even a fraction of his anger. This country is already staring down the barrel of a war with half the damn globe. Adding Victor Von Doom to that list, as an active, motivated enemy? That's the last goddamn thing anyone wants, or needs, right now."
"Then we'll just kick Doom's metal butt again!" Johnny blustered, though his voice lacked its earlier conviction. "It's not like we haven't done it time and time again! He's a chump!"
"Yeah, like we ain't got better things to do than bail your sorry ass outta the fire every time you pull a stunt like this." Ben snorted, shaking his massive stone head. He lumbered towards the Fantasti-Car. "Flame-boy, you better hope and pray to whatever god that still listens to idiots that this Ranger guy not only lives but also decides to forgive your monumental stupidity. Otherwise, mark my words, there will be hell to pay. From what I hear, this guy's like a goddamn honey badger. You poke him, you kick him when he's down, and he just gets ten times fiercer when he gets back up."
"I beat him once, I can beat him again!" Johnny huffed, crossing his flaming arms defiantly.
Susan started to speak, to reason with him, but Ben raised a massive stone hand. "Nah, Suzie. Let him stew. He ain't gonna learn a damn thing if you keep enabling him. Kid needs a good, old-fashioned cosmic-level beatdown to knock some sense into that thick skull of his." He climbed into the Fantasti-Car, the vehicle sinking noticeably under his weight before its anti-grav emitters compensated, lifting it back into a hover. Susan sighed, a sound of utter weariness, but she too entered the car.
"Johnny." she said, her voice tired but firm, "you go back to the Baxter Building. And you stay in your room. Do not leave. Do not cause any more trouble. Am I clear?" The Fantasti-Car sped off towards Manhattan, leaving a fuming, but momentarily subdued, Human Torch in its wake.
"He's not actually going to go back and stay in his room, is he?" Susan asked, looking at Ben.
"Course not, Suzie." Ben gruffed, his rocky features set in a grim expression. "Kid's probably already halfway to Queens, lookin' to irritate Spider-Man or pull some other damn fool prank. Some things never change."
---
Inside the Baxter Building's advanced med-bay, Ben and Susan stared with worried eyes at the flickering holographic displays surrounding Ranger's inert form.
"Patient status critical." the med-bay's calm, synthesized voice announced. "Suffering from extensive third-degree thermal burns across approximately 67% of epidermal and subdermal layers. Multiple fractures and internal contusions consistent with high-impact trauma. Cardiovascular readings erratic, ventricular tachycardia noted. Neurological scans indicate patient is experiencing significant, anomalous cerebral distress, consistent with a severe psychic or esoteric mental assault. Attempting to identify precise nature of mental attack…"
A series of articulated arms, tipped with delicate diagnostic needles, extended from the med-bay's ceiling, moving towards Ranger's exposed skin. The moment the needles made contact, a brilliant blue energy, the Turbo energy, discharged violently from Ranger's body, arcing across the delicate instruments. The needles sparked, smoked, and then fried, their sensors going dark. "Further Diagnostic failure. Standard invasive data acquisition compromised by unknown energy field. Alternative methods required."
"Sue." Ben asked, his voice a low rumble of concern, "did this fella do anything other than fly when Johnny went after him? Throw a punch? Fire a laser? Anything at all?"
Susan shook her head, her eyes wide with dawning horror as she looked at Ranger's still form. "No, Ben. He didn't. He just… dodged. Tried to maintain his course. Don't tell me you're thinking…"
"That he didn't counterattack because he couldn't?" Ben finished grimly. "That he was already under some kinda whammy before Johnny decided to play hero-for-a-day? Given the temper this new guy supposedly has, the way he handled Shaw and that whole mutant kerfuffle, it would've been a goddamn miracle if he didn't turn Johnny into a greasy smear on the pavement. But now… now we can be pretty sure. He didn't attack because he was in no damn state to attack. He was flyin' on autopilot, already fightin' somethin' else we couldn't see." Ben's massive stone fists clenched. "Damn it, Susan, call Reed. Now. He better have a way to fix this. Johnny's really stepped in it this time. Big time."
Susan, her face pale with worry, rushed from the med-bay, her voice already calling out for Reed.
"Kid." Ben muttered, sinking onto a nearby reinforced bench, the structure groaning under his weight as the med-bay continued its automated, non-invasive attempts to stabilize Ranger. "Don't you dare die on us. If you croak, even that mental attack you're sufferin' is gonna get blamed on us, on Johnny. And Doom… Christ, Doom will probably declare war on the entire damn planet just on principle." He sighed, rubbing his rocky forehead. "I'll even let you beat the ever-livin' crap outta that little firefly Johnny when you wake up. Hell, I'll hold him down for ya."
Time crawled by. Finally, Susan returned, Reed Richards stretching and flowing into the med-bay behind her, his head already contorted at an impossible angle to examine the primary holographic display, his hands still clutching a collection of complex, whirring scientific instruments he'd clearly been working on.
"Interesting." Reed murmured, his gaze flicking from the data streams to Ranger's inert form, his current project momentarily forgotten as the equipment clattered unheeded to the floor. He propped his chin on an elongated finger, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. "This doesn't present as a standard telepathic intrusion or psionic assault. Note the elevated cortisol and norepinephrine levels – exceeding baseline parameters by a factor of five hundred, perhaps more. Indicative of extreme physiological and psychological stress, a sustained trauma response." Reed tapped a command into the holographic interface, new data sets scrolling across the screen.
"And this cerulean energy signature, the one coursing through his vascular and nervous systems… fascinating. It appears to be actively attempting to counteract the trauma-induced chemical imbalances, to regulate hormonal production. Almost… sentient in its response. Or at least, exhibiting a highly sophisticated, pre-programmed biological defense protocol." Reed mumbled, more to himself than to anyone else, as he absorbed the complex readouts. "The energy exhibits unique repellent properties against foreign diagnostic tools, actively neutralizing any attempt at direct interface unless, presumably, the interfacing technology is harmonized with its own specific frequency or composition. Extraordinary. Could it be artificially synthesized? Replicated? The potential applications are… limitless. I require a sample for detailed analysis."
"Reed! Treat him first! Do your Nobel Prize-winning research later!" Ben interrupted, his voice a frustrated growl.
"Ah, yes. Of course. Treatment protocols." Reed refocused, though his eyes still held a spark of intense scientific curiosity. "The immediate priority is to mitigate the trauma response. Theoretically, administration of beta-blockers and anxiolytics could reduce the excessive production of stress-inducing chemicals and catecholamines. However." Reed mumbled, tapping through more data, "the subject's condition appears to be exacerbated by an external, lingering esoteric influence, something beyond simple physiological imbalance. Ben, be a good chap and retrieve that containment device from the auxiliary storage closet. The one the wizard gave us."
Ben lumbered over to the indicated closet and wrenched it open. A veritable avalanche of bizarre gadgets, half-finished inventions, and blinking contraptions tumbled out onto the floor. Ben stared at the pile with a look of profound irritation. "Which goddamn one is it, Stretcho? There's enough junk in here to start a interdimensional flea market!" He began to rummage, then gave up with a frustrated sigh and simply scooped up the entire pile, dumping it unceremoniously on the med-bay floor. "Here. You find it yourself, brainiac."
Reed's hand, impossibly elongated, snaked through the heap of technological detritus, emerging a moment later clutching a small, intricately carved wooden box, sealed with a complex, interlocking pentagrammatic clasp. He placed it under a multi-spectrum scanner. While it whirred, he directed a micro-drone to extract a single drop of Ranger's blood, which he then placed on a separate analysis slide beneath another scanner.
"Intriguing." Reed murmured, his eyes darting between the two sets of results. "The residual energy signatures… the esoteric decay patterns… it appears they correlate. Both samples exhibit trace elements consistent with exposure to… ah, yes. The Void."
"The Void? You mean… the Void?" Susan asked, her voice barely a whisper, her eyes wide with dawning horror. "Sentry's other half?"
"Precisely." Reed confirmed, his gaze fixed on the complex molecular breakdown displayed on his screen. "It would appear our patient has had a rather… spirited encounter with Robert Reynolds, or rather, his more malevolent psychic counterpart. And, remarkably, not only survived but seems to be actively… adapting."
"And he's still alive after tangling with that psycho?" Ben and Susan shouted in unison, their faces a mixture of disbelief and profound shock.
"Indeed." Reed replied, a genuine smile of scientific delight spreading across his face. "Not only alive but thriving, in a manner of speaking. This unique blue energy coursing through his system… it's actively reconfiguring itself, developing countermeasures against the Sentry's negative zone radiation and psionic disruption. He will heal. It may take time, considerable time, but the inherent regenerative and adaptive capabilities of this energy are… quite frankly, astounding. A biological and technological marvel." Reed leaned closer to the display, already lost in the possibilities. "If I could just isolate the core resonant frequency…"