Disclaimer: I don't own the Fantastic Four—Marvel Comics, Stan Lee, 20th Century Fox, and probably a bunch of other people do. However, if the aforementioned parties feel like loaning out the guys, put me at the top of the borrower's list. Also, I'm not making a penny off of this. I am banned from reading other F4 fan fictions until this is finished, so any similarities to other stories are entirely coincidental. Typos are mine. If you haven't done so, you really need to read 'Oxygen' before this story.
4
Perhaps the shortest-lived criminal career in New York City was the fifteen-minute crime spree begun late that afternoon by citizens Walter Vincent, Ray Zanoni, and Carl Imez, a group of shortsighted teenage boys with visions of I-Pods and tricked out Mustangs in their heads. It began with a simple case of shoplifting said mp3 players from a convenient electronics store and might have ended there had not success emboldened them to bigger and better scores. Thirteen minutes later, amidst a clamor of store alarms and shouts, and leaving two elderly victims with minor stab wounds, they had acquired the contents of five tourists' purses and two gas station cash registers before piling back into Vincent's dilapidated Jetta to flee any police pursuits.
Two minutes after that, the Jetta was reduced to a large heap of scrap metal, Zanoni hung by his boxers from a bus stop sign, Vincent was imprisoned at the center of a tire removed forcibly from his vehicle, and Imez was entangled in the awning of a nearby hotel (to the amusement of the doorman and bellboys)…all with an warning from their stone-skinned captor to reconsider their career options once they got out of juvenile hall.
Ben Grimm's disposition matched his name that afternoon. Leaving the teenagers to the care of the cops, ignoring the stares and applause of people gathered along the sidewalks, he lumbered back in the direction of the Baxter Building.
Half of the jokers in the city had decided that, with the Human Torch gone missing—and possibly gone off his rocker, the Fantastic Four would somehow be distracted or disadvantaged and had decided to put their theory to the test with a fresh wave of crime. Every time Ben had to break away from his work on getting their plane ready to fly to wrangle one of these ding-dongs was that much more of a delay before the Fantastic Four could get down to Latveria and rescue Johnny from whatever the hell kinds of plans doom had made for their youngest member. Resenting the lost time more and more with each incident, Ben was hard-pressed to remind himself that ordinary (non-mutated) citizens would break like glass if he didn't rein in his strength apprehending them.
Five days was a very long time, Ben had discovered. It was a lot of time to dwell on 'what ifs' and, as far as he was concerned (though Reed would disagree), no good ever came from too much time to think.
As he passed the same electronics store where the teenagers had begun their crime spree, Ben automatically closed his mind and ears to the news reports blaring from the televisions in the store window. Five days was also too much time to listen to reporters trashing the kid every day. The fact that no one had seen hide nor hair (nor spark) of the Human Torch for almost a week didn't stop the some news station and papers from running paranoid stories and speculation---anything to keep the public in a constant state of panic about 'where the Torch might strike next' in the name of higher Nielsen ratings. Ben watched the news only on the off chance that one station actually stumbled across a clue to Johnny's whereabouts. The willingness and ability of some reporters to turn against Johnny with the same fervor and passion with which they had previously embraced the 'face of the Fantastic Four' disgusted Ben. Not to mention the kid was gonna have kittens when he found out his fan club had its website yanked off the 'net…
So, when the words 'Breaking News' flashed on the television screens, Ben stifled a grumble and paused to watch, just in case it was another yo-yo like the Mole Man or those bozo teenagers up to something that needed his attention. To his shock, the days of enduring the reporters yakkin' until his ears bled finally paid off: "…missing for the past five days, the Human Torch had finally reappeared with a new career---in crime. What you're seeing is live pictures from Selva-Uitti Corporation's laboratories in New Jersey…"
It was Johnny, all right, who else could the human-shaped flames be? He was still smiling that chilling grin he'd worn before burning the floor out from under Ben's feet. Construction engineers and workmen fled from the Torch's path while the camera bounced as the news crew attempted to get closer to the fight for a better shot---until Johnny tossed a warning stream of fire in their direction. Johnny then disappeared into one of the completed buildings. Meanwhile, the reporter, all bravado gone from her tone, added, "Selva-Uitti Corporation, as you know, acquired most of Victor Von Doom's technologies and research in a hostile takeover six months ago. Perhaps it's not a coincidence that the Human Torch attacked this facility, it may be an indication that he's now under control of 'Doctor' Doom, and that could be very bad news indeed. So far, no one has been hurt, but---"
Ben was already moving, hurdling over traffic and pedestrians with inhuman leaps and bounds, heading back to the Baxter Building as fast as he could go. He was grateful no one at Selva-Uitti had been injured---Johnny would hate himself if he hurt an innocent person when he was back in his right mind. He'd feel guilty for a month just for attacking his family. Ben knew that because he'd mentally kicked himself for longer than that after he'd allowed Victor to manipulate him into turning against Reed and giving up his powers as the Thing, an error which had almost allowed Doom to kill all of them. Since that day, Ben had feared another incident like that---or a situation like they were mired in now.
It was amazing how fast superheroes gained enemies. Ben had lost track of how many freaks and losers had come gunning for the Fantastic Four in the past few months. A straight-on fight never bothered the Thing. No, his concern was having one of these nutcases manipulating him or gaining control of him, using him again to hurt Reed, Susie, or Johnny. Worse, there was the subconscious fear that he might suffer some further mutation that would mentally regress him into a mindless (and powerful) monster, unable to control his own strength or actions. He feared how much damage either scenario could do to his family.
Well, now, here was one of those scenarios that Ben had feared…only it wasn't him in the hot seat (pardon the expression), it was Johnny who had some creep in control of his noggin. Of all the possible consequences that Reed had listed---Johnny hurting civilians, Johnny hurting one of the team, Victor getting Johnny to hurt himself---one was inescapable and troubling: They were going to have to fight the kid if they were going to get him out of Doom's control.
Ben almost went right through the roof of the SUV he was vaulting over as the knowledge that the fight against one of their own was imminent hit home. There were times, on a daily basis, when Ben felt like decking the little pain in the ass. Most of their bickering was over stupid stuff like playing c.d.s too loud, ownership of said c.d.s, or control over the television remote, not real fights where one of them might seriously intend to hurt or kill the other. Now that the moment was approaching, Ben still didn't have a clue what he would do if he had to choose between Johnny's life and the safety of an innocent person who might get caught in the crossfire.
Nope, nothing good came from too much time to think, and too much thinking wasn't going to change what the Fantastic Four had to do. For the past week, Ben instead had fallen back on his military training: Focus on the job at hand, don't get distracted by 'what ifs' and doubts. Get distracted and things get screwed up. Things get screwed up and people get hurt. Johnny was counting on them. They couldn't screw up. Getting the plane ready to fly was something tangible that Ben could do to help Johnny now, and he'd done it. Next on the 'to do' list was getting the team to Latveria (or wherever the kid was), pounding Doom into tin foil, dragging the Matchstick home, and letting Reed do his egg-head act to get Johnny back to normal.
Never thought there'd be a day I'd be wishing for Johnny to be his normal self again, Ben mused.
He thumbed the communicator's switch: "Reed? Ya watching the news? Are we rollin' or what?"
The image on the tiny communicator screen might have been bizarre if Ben weren't used to living under the same roof as a genius/mad scientist. Reed was wearing that pack on his back. Since the first time Reed showed them the 'mega-extinguisher' (as Ben called it), it looked to Ben like something out of 'Ghostbusters'…with the hose and nozzle of an industrial-sized fire extinguisher attached. The scientist was aiming the nozzle at a burning mannequin obviously meant to be a double for the Human Torch. Unnoticed, Ben watched while Reed fired at the mannequin. A blob of green gelatinous goop exploded from the nozzle and instantly doused the flames, in the process knocking the mannequin head over heels and sending it flying into a bookshelf. The recoil from the blast lifted Reed off his feet and he tumbled, landing sprawled like a turtle on its back. He had to rock back and forth a few times before he could finally roll to his feet.
"Nice gear---all ya need is a pair of khaki coveralls to complete the ensemble there, Spengler," Ben cracked.
Reed finally took notice of the fact that his communicator was beeping for his attention. He blinked quizzically at Ben's joke, baffled, "Who?"
"Ya gotta get out of the lab once in awhile, Reed. And ya might want to dial back the kick on that puppy. We want to get Johnny's attention, not take his head off," Ben suggested.
Undaunted, Reed retrieved the charred mannequin, noting with satisfaction that it was thoroughly saturated by the gel. That was good. They would only get one shot at Johnny---if the gel didn't cover him from head to toe in that first shot, it would be useless. "This retardant will douse anything that Johnny can throw at us, short of a full-force nova blast, and it won't come off unless he goes for a swim," he explained. "After that, we borrow a page from Doom and Dr. Sater---" He pulled three small vials from the pocket of his lab coat. Ben would have known what was inside even if Reed hadn't already explained his plans to him and Sue. We inject him with the anesthetic. Theoretically it should work before his body burns it off.
Ben would have grimaced if he could. Nothing inspired confidence like the word 'theoretically'. "What if he novas before ya get that goo on him?"
"We hope Sue's nearby," Reed admitted. She was crucial if they were going to get Johnny onto the plane and into the titanium box for the flight home.
"And that'll work?" Ben was skeptical at best.
Reed didn't look as confident as he sounded when he replied, "That'll work. It has to." The only other way he could temporarily neutralize Johnny's powers was a blast of electricity, and Reed couldn't stomach that notion.
He heard it again, the faint hint of guilt behind his friend's words. Ben wasn't going to waste his breath on another go-around of trying to talk sense into Reed---as leader, he would continue to blame himself for this mess until they had Johnny home and back to his senses (well, as sensible as the kid got, at least), just as Susie would continue running herself into the ground working around the clock to prepare for the rescue.
Ben had been honest with Reed when he'd said that he knew Reed would find the way to----er, deprogram? Reprogram? There just wasn't a good word for it. Johnny wasn't a computer for cripes sake----pull of this 'counter-programming Johnny' stuff. If anyone could do it, Reed could…if he had what he needed to do the job. So, Ben had left the brooding over 'what ifs' and the debates over ethics to Sue and Reed and made it his personal business to make damn sure Reed had whatever person, gear, gadget, gizmo, device, doo-hickey, thingamabob, or magic wands he needed, starting with the plane…
…ending with dragging Nora Sater back to the Baxter Building by her broomstick if it came to that. Ben didn't enjoy picking on ladies, but after what she'd helped Doom do to the kid, Doc Sater didn't deserve the title of 'lady'. He was fully capable of dragging her to New York kicking and screaming if it came down to a choice between her comfort and Johnny's life.
"You'll get to test it soon. The kid just turned up at Selva-Uitti. It's all over the news. The plane's ready to go, all we gotta do is load up the box. I'm on my way back," Ben informed him. "You and Susie meet me in the hangar---where is Susie anyway?"
Reed's jaw twitched a bit. "Where do you think?"
"Sue--?"
Reed didn't get to finish his question. As soon as he punched in the override code for the lock on their 'gym' (a section of the building specially equipped in deference to the team's individual powers to be a practice and exercise room) and poked his nose in the door, he had to duck to avoid an object sailing straight at him. Luckily, Reed could make himself very flat indeed when he had to, and he dropped to the floor just in time to avoid the collision.
What the---?
Something large flew over his head---a body!---and sent a familiar charge through the air. Reed knew that sensation: It was the energy from Sue's psychic shields.
When he dared open his eyes, still spread carpet-like across the tile in an undignified 'duck-and-cover' position, Reed saw Susan standing opposite him. She had been practicing, all right. She was breathing hard; sweat coated her face and matted her hair. The sight of his fiancé sweating and out-of-breath would have been quite sexy, if she were not wiping away that telltale drop of blood from her nose and Reed were not preoccupied with the strange event he'd just witnessed.
"What the---what was that?" Reed asked.
She played innocent. "What was what?" Sue fetched a bottle of water and towel from the shelf. She wiped the perspiration from her face and neck, avoiding Reed's eyes. She noticed the goo-saturated coveralls. "And you went a little overboard with the hair gel."
She made a point of ignoring the backpack, with its nozzle that too-closely resembled a gun, and the clips on its straps that would soon hold syringes with razor sharp needles. Reed had designed these things, in a very short span of time, to help them catch Johnny without hurting him, but they were still weapons.
"It's not gonna hurt him, Susie." Ben had read her mind the first time Reed explained his plans for the anesthetics and the 'mega-extinguisher'. "These are just so ya don't give yourself a seizure tryin' ta keep the kid under wraps 'til we get him home…and so he doesn't barbeque us along the way. And we might save one of the shots for Doc Sater in case she don't feel like coming along voluntarily."
Sue had never wanted to use weapons on anyone, least of all her family. Her fists tightened, fiercely wringing the towel.
"Sue, was that---were you flying?" Reed asked, incredulous. "How--?"
When the idea of using her force fields to lift herself into the sky first occurred to Sue, she hadn't mentioned it to any of the guys. For one thing, Johnny would have driven her nuts by nagging her to hone her new talent and goading her, in the best tradition of sibling rivalry, to see which of them could one-up the other in flight. For another thing, it was an extremely difficult skill to master, as she had discovered the first time she'd attempted it. It was a theory at the time. She'd lifted various objects and people with her psychic energy, so she might be able to lift herself as well.
The flying itself wasn't hard; it was when she was required to divide her concentration between keeping one shield beneath her feet and generating a second shield for defensive purposes that the problems (and the serious migraines) began. She had toyed with her new ability during her private workout sessions, with no particular compulsion to hurry it along---until Johnny's abduction.
Now, perfecting her flying skill was a matter of life and death. She knew it in her soul. She was glad now that she hadn't told anyone---especially Johnny---what she was up to. It would be one attack her brother wouldn't anticipate when she finally caught up with him. The sky had always been Johnny's advantage in practice bouts against the team. If Sue could stay aloft, the playing field would be leveled a bit. Besides, her little brother had never got the better of her in a fight when they were kids, and he wasn't going to get the better of her now, she'd vowed.
"We're not going to catch Johnny on the ground," Sue answered Reed. "If I'm going to bring him home, I have to catch him in the sky."
She was right, however her choice of words didn't go unnoticed, nor did the burden she was taking on her own shoulders. Reed sighed. They were all pushing themselves to prepare for this rescue, sacrificing sleep and meals to the effort, but none more than Sue. That was natural. Johnny was her brother. He'd been right: She was in Protective Big Sister mode, big time.
He had to remind her: "You're not fighting alone, Sue. You've got Ben and you've got me, remember us? We're going to bring Johnny back---together. I promise." He lifted her chin with his finger, smiling a bit, trying to lift her spirits.
"I know, Reed. I know." Sue returned the smile half-heartedly for his sake. He was trying to be reassuring. Considering she'd been on edge and snapping at everyone for the past five days, she loved him for the effort.
She knew Reed and Ben both cared about Johnny like family, and that they'd put their lives on the line for him without hesitation. This wasn't like when she and Johnny had lost their parents, when she was a frightened and grieving teenager suddenly responsible for the welfare of herself and her little brother. Even with her grandmother to help (before the burden became to much for the elderly woman and Sue had taken her brother with her when she went off to college), Sue had felt alone then. She wasn't alone this time.
Yet, she still felt like that scared teenage girl right now and no amount of combat preparation, reassuring promises, or intellectual knowledge was doing a damn thing to change that. Sue never got used to Johnny scaring her. Even before their accident and mutations, he never seemed to run out of ways to worry his sister: His obsession with muscle cars and motorcycles (owing to their father), his interest in every kind of extreme sport (owing to their mother), flight training, astronaut training---Sue always alternated between pride and fear for him. Johnny never gave a second (or first) thought to the dangers that went along with his passions. Sue did the worrying for him. After they lost their parents, Sue always feared that some kind of accident would take her brother away too, leaving her really alone.
Even with Reed and Ben to help, Sue still knew instinctively that---just like when Johnny was a teenager sneaking out of the apartment in a snit over her 'playing mom' or was otherwise off getting into trouble---if any of them was going to wrangle her uncooperative brother home, it would fall to her. She was the one who was going to have to physically take him away from Victor. She was the only one who could.
Then Sue would have to face her deepest fear---what was going to happen when they had Johnny back. As painful as it was watching the torment Victor had subjected Johnny to in that box, having Johnny turn against them, having her brother stare at her like she was a stranger, was a million times worse. What if Reed couldn't reverse what Victor and that despicable Sater woman? What if his memories, his personality, were completely and utterly gone?
Not an option. Sue would not dwell on those possibilities. She had to be strong. Even when they were bickering children, driving each other nuts, Johnny had always been the one person Sue could count on to be there for her---in spite of his being a bit of a wild card---when she had no one else to turn to. He was counting on her now and she would not fail.
As she dropped the towel, she caught a glimpse of the metal gasket around her finger and the small diamond that had recently been added to the band, and felt a fleeting pang of sorrow. She was supposed to be finishing her wedding plans right now, not plotting the best way to retrieve her brother from a lunatic. Damn Victor for all of this.
Sue channeled deep-rooted anger, fear, and frustration into action. She disc of psychic energy formed again beneath her feet and lifted her off the floor. The gym's computers tracked her movements and launched a volley of projectiles and laser blasts in her direction. The more projectiles that Sue deflected, the shorter the interval between the computer's shots.
Reed watched, impressed, at the ease with which she fended off the attacks. Johnny's not going to know what hit him. It was obvious that she hadn't been watching the news, or she would be down in the hangar, the first one ready to go. These days, the only one she hated more than Victor was the press, which had pried too much into the Storm family history to suit her. Carson Pierce had finally irritated the Invisible Woman to the point of retaliation with a nasty piece on her father's escape from prison. Sue had sneaked up on the reporter and thrown her invisibility shield around his body so that he appeared during his the rest of his broadcast as a disembodied talking head. Pierce hadn't darkened their doorstep since that incident, but rival news stations were having great fun passing around copies of the telecast.
"Sue---" Reed called up to her. She didn't so much as blink in response, concentrating on the barrage from the computer. "---we've found Johnny."
Whether it was the shocking news or the strain of splitting her attention between staying aloft and dodging fire became too much, the shield beneath her feet winked out abruptly and Sue once again fell. Reed stretched his arms and caught her easily before she hit the floor and set her gently on her feet.
Sue had only one question: "Where?"
There were some simple tasks that became complicated when one was a Human Torch. Bursting into flames made the life expectancy of any piece of clothing Johnny owned about two weeks, three at the most, not to mention it was almost impossible to do something as basic as carry a wallet, cash, credit cards, car keys, or cell phones if he wasn't extremely mindful not to turn on his flames before safely stowing such articles. He'd learned to turn off the flames on his hands during a battle to pick up objects or lift civilians out of harm's way, but forgot to keep them off when wearing wrist communicators or watches, so he'd given up wearing them altogether until Reed Richards had tried to devise a fireproof communicator out of titanium. It had survived the flames---and fallen right through Johnny's burning wrist. Still, Reed insisted Johnny carry it with him, no matter how many times the Human Torch tried to stash it in the Baxter Building before heading into a fight or lost it in the midst of a battle. It was going to take a little practice to learn how to stay solid enough for the wrist devices to stay on when he flamed.
However, today, Johnny needed both the titanium box and the small tracking device Doom had given him before he'd boarded the jet for the United States (contrary to how it looked on television, Johnny could not fly for unlimited distances without a break like Superman could). So, he'd taken great care after departing the plane, and even as he landed inside the perimeter of Selva-Uitti's facility, to protect the box and tracker he carried. The latter had been programmed with a special feature that Johnny knew was about to pay off big time.
From above, Johnny had memorized the layout of the grounds. The complex was being built along the Hudson River. At the bottom of a slight slope, two large, in-ground tanks not yet filled with water lay near the river's banks. Large pipes connected the tanks to the river. Workers were inside the empty tanks, putting the finishing touches on the three-story deep containers, the drains, and the gates that held back the river water in the pipes.
At the top of the slope, where Johnny stood, was the area where the laboratories and offices would one day stand. Only one building on the western end was up and running, the rest of the place was still under construction. Two more buildings were half finished, the roof of one comprised of solar panels that would one day power the facility. The other was the steel skeleton of a high-rise office building. Workers on the steel girders had stopped their work to gawk at the fallen hero's arrival. Large cranes and other construction equipment were spread out across the grounds. Johnny saw grates in the paved walkways, which revealed a network of connecting tunnels beneath the facility, running from the tanks to the unfinished buildings. The objects Doom had sent the Human Torch to retrieve would be found in the completed building, so that's where Johnny headed.
The media was on the scene almost before Johnny landed, and he wondered in passing how they'd known he was coming. Probably doing a story on how the laboratory's going to release toxins and turn the river purple or something. The proof that Johnny's change of employment had earned him pariah status back home could be found in the reporters' reaction to his arrival. Just last week, their favorite superhero would have had to hold them off with sticks to escape their attentions (not that he'd ever tried or wanted to escape). Today, a single glance in their direction had caused some of the news crews to abandon their posts to flee. Others hid behind barrels and pieces of machinery, but pointed frantically in his direction, their eyes large and frightened, while they spoke into their cameras. Sheesh, what did they think he was going to do to them? A few plucked up the nerve to shout questions at the Human Torch---while keeping a very healthy distance from him. He ignored them as he headed for the laboratory.
"Johnny, what happened at the Baxter Building?"
"You have a 'V' on your uniform. Are you working for Doctor Doom now?"
"Where have you been for the last five days?"
"Are you suing your dentist for negligence?"
"What do you think about your fan club website being pulled from the Net?"
That gave Johnny a moment's pause, distracting him in the middle of unleashing a stream of fire to obliterate the generators—the only power source for the completed building. "What! When did that happen?"
Any answer was drowned out as the gasoline powered generator exploded. The explosion sent most of the lingering reporters and employees running from the Human Torch. Two or three news crews still dared to point their cameras towards the action, but dared not approach Johnny again.
Descending into a sour mood at the afternoon's turn of events, Johnny headed for the laboratory. The security and fire suppression systems had been disabled by the absence of electricity to the building; He breezed past frightened employees and cowed guards (who had decided that no paycheck were worth being toasted by the Human Torch).
Once inside, it was pathetically easy, with the lab's alarms out of commission, to walk into the storage unit that housed the items Johnny had been sent to reclaim for Von Doom. It was a deep box. Johnny didn't dig through the box, that wasn't his job. He saw what looked like large round crystals lying in the metal box. What Doom could need them for was beyond Johnny, but he wasn't paid to ask questions. He placed the metal box twin rocks into the larger fireproof box he was lugging, and began to make his way out of the building, encountering no resistance at all until he was nearly to the main door.
One of the construction workers, shakily brandishing a fire extinguisher, intercepted the Human Torch at the door. The mustached man, 'Carlos' according to the patch sewn onto his shirt, glared at the former superhero with a mixture of fear, disgust, and outrage. Johnny didn't get a word of warning out before the worker sprayed him with thick foam, right in his face.
"Hey!" Reflexively, Johnny backed off a step in surprise, wiping the goop from his eyes. Man, that gets old real fast.
Carlos snarled, "That reporter was right about you, pretty boy, you have gone bad. And to think my son wasted his allowances buying your action figure."
Momentarily forgetting the foam and his rotten mood, Johnny perked up at that: "Which one? Not the old one with the grappling hook? I hate that one. They made me look like Adam Sandler. The new one is much better---"
The worker cut him off, "I don't care who you are; a thief's a thief. That's Mr. Selva's property you stole, so hand it over and walk out of here."
Johnny had a hard time deciding whether to be astounded or impressed by the man's nerve. "One: This is Mr. Von Doom's property, so no can do. Two: Mr. Selva's the thief, so let's be careful about tossing that word around. Three: I admire brass, but---"
Johnny flamed on suddenly, unhindered by the layer of foam. Carlos' eyes widened in terror as the heat radiating from the Human Torch became stifling and the light blinding, like staring into a living, breathing sun. The man's courage wavered, and Johnny finished it off by tossing a blast that was largely smoke (since he really wasn't trying to hurt the guy) Carlos' way.
"---Never threaten a Human Torch with a piece of crap fire extinguisher," Johnny finished.
Carlos dropped the extinguisher and ran away.
Hope his kid still buys the new action figure. Johnny made his way out the door without further challenge. If this is the boss' idea of 'interesting', we need to have a long talk. As if in answer, the communicator he'd carried so carefully beeped its expected warning. Johnny grinned. That's more like it.
"Well, well, at the sound of the beep, it's either vitamin time…" The communicator had been designed to track one unique energy signature, one that Victor Von Doom had scanned and recorded to the computer in his office six months ago, during his first fight against the Fantastic Four: The psychic energy pattern generated by the Invisible Woman when she used her powers. According to the tracker, Sue was cloaked and right behind Johnny. "…or it's Susie."
Knowing Sue—and the rest of the team---was right there, Johnny's reaction was still a fraction of a second too slow. Attempting to take flight before his sister could trap him inside one of her force fields, he was caught unprepared when a blob of puke-green goo exploded out of thin air and doused him completely. The first volley spun Johnny around, knocking the wind out of him for a few seconds, almost knocked him off his feet altogether. A second shot hit him in the back, saturating his blue uniform with the slime. This time, the impact did send him tumbling to the ground, gasping for breath. He wiped at the stuff, but it stuck to him like glue. The vile green substance did what the flimsy fire extinguisher could not: It made it impossible for Johnny to flame on.
I am in deep trouble.
Sue dropped the cloak concealing her, Ben Grimm, and Reed Richards. Johnny didn't have the chance to even twitch before the Thing advanced on him, pulled him to his feet, and caught the Human Torch in his unshakeable grip.