Back in 1939, The Human Torch was on a quest. He was now accepted as a hero of the people, striking out in his true form at mobsters as well as the new costumed crooks who'd begun to appear. What he did not understand was the Humanity he felt inside. How could a man built in a laboratory ever feel human?
Had Professor Horton instilled him with a soul? Or was that simply another name for the very spark of life? So he returned to the place of his birth looking for answers.
It was just a burned and abandoned wreckage now. The Professor was dead. All that was left were scraps of machinery meant for a better world. The Torch picked up and looked at a series of surviving photos in the wreckage, only slightly burned, but among the debris was a photo of the man he thought of as his father….and his assistant... with himself in a glass case behind the two men.

Fred Raymond.

But at the Raymond's Staten Home he found no answers…

Raymond answered the door.

"Oh my god."

"I remember you...you were there my first day..."

"You can't...you can't be here! We have enough trouble already!"

"Wait, please. I didn't mean to bring any trouble at all."

"Please... just fly away…"

"What trouble are you in? Can I Help?"

"It's not like that...it's my wife...she's sick. If the government finds out you've been here, they'll want to question me again…And I can't be separated from her...not now."

"I'm sorry. I'll go."

A woman's voice shouted from inside the house.

"Freddie! Freddie, come Quick!"

Raymond came running to the room.

"Nora?! What...oh god no. Toro!"

A woman was at her a bed with her eyes in shock. A young boy's hand was on fire.

"Mom...Dad?!...It doesn't heart!...what's happening to me?"

The Torch became horrified.

"No..did I do this?...how?"

Raymond was attempting to comfort his son. He turned back and shouted at the Torch,

"Get out of here!...GO DAMN YOU!"

Torch flew out of the house.

It had been a long time since Jim Hammond had felt more monster than man, but the night he met Tom Raymond, he flew fast and full of fear. Like a rocket trying to escape itself.

Torch never forgot that event, but kept his promise and his distance, until he heard about Thomas Raymond in the news and that he was a performer at the Circus.

1940
Thomas Raymond's parents had been killed in a train crash. Thomas was the only survivor, which was called a miracle, but the Human Torch knew the sad truth. The Boy had saved himself. Even in his panic, his powers reacted and protected him.

The Human Torch knew that the young boy would be blaming himself. For his parent's death, the train crash, everything. He'd think of himself as a monster, unless someone showed him he wasn't.

The thought of the boy standing alone naked in the wreckage of the crashed train as tears formed in his eyes alone was too much for the Torch.

The Torch came down at the circus where young Tom Raymond was working. He quickly saw the boy was on fire. This time however, Raymond was able to turn the fire off by simply willing it to the Torch's surprise. The Circus Owner came running.

"Toro! Are you hurt?"

"Not even a little burn pops! This is the Human Torch. Pops here owns the flea circus."

"Howdy."

"It's a pleasure."

Once the three were alone.

"Toro...do you think you can turn your flame on and off at will?"

"I can try"

Toro sent a mental command speeding to his brain.
It worked.

"Try to leap Toro."

"Here goes Torch."
He leaped but began to panic as he seemed to lose control The Torch flew in and caught him.

Overtime the Torch would visit Thomas occasionally with his adoptive father's permission. The source of his powers were a mystery, but they made him quite popular at the Circus.

Torch believed the boy was ready to join him on his exploits part time. The name "Toro" had stuck, it being a nickname before being a stage name. He could fly as well. The Torch began to take him on patrols of the city at night

Prince Namor had been stalking the streets of New York in disguise, hiding behind a beggar's clothing, a large trench coat and a hat. His hope was to find the flaming man. He could not fly as well as he once could, so he changed strategies. He held tightly to his hatred of surface worlders, even when he felt it faltering. He passed a homeless man begging.

"Spare a dime, brother?"

Namor kept walking.

"I'm not your brother".

He believed it was his anger that kept him strong, Kept him searching,