The world returned slowly.
At first, it was just sound — a dull, steady beep. Then came the light, blinding and sterile. Johnny winced, groaning softly as he tried to move. His arms felt heavy, his throat dry like sandpaper.
When his eyes finally adjusted, he realized he was lying in a hospital bed — though it wasn't exactly a hospital. The walls were too clean, the hum too mechanical. Then he realized where he was, when he saw the Oscorp logo glowing faintly on a monitor nearby.
He was in their infirmary. He noticed that he also wasn't wearing his clothes anymore but a hospital gown.
His brain then tried to piece together what happened. The tour. The machine. The kid. The fire—
He flinched, clutching his chest, expecting pain. But there was none. Not even a burn. His skin was smooth and unscarred.
"What… the hell?" he whispered hoarsely.
"Ah, good. You're awake. Sorry about your clothes, they were burned beyond repair so we put you into a gown, I hope it is all right for you."
Johnny turned toward the voice. Doctor Curt Connors stood by the door, holding a clipboard. The man's face was drawn, weary — the kind of look you get after too many hours of panic and guilt.
Johnny swallowed hard. "Doctor Connors… your kid—?"
"He's fine." Connors offered a faint, tired smile. "Thanks to you. You saved him, Jonathan. I owe you more than I can possibly say."
Johnny looked down, fidgeting with the edge of the blanket. "I… just reacted, I guess."
Connors stepped closer, his tone shifting back to a professional one. "You were lucky, Johnny. The machine that hit you wasn't designed for organic exposure. The energy beam you intercepted was a concentrated biofusion pulse — essentially, it was rewriting the DNA of whatever it hit."
"Rewriting… my DNA?" Johnny blinked, trying to comprehend it.
Connors nodded. "That's the theory. Your body should have… well, it should have been vaporized. Instead, it adapted. The readings we took show elevated thermal radiation, cell regeneration, and an anomalous energy signature inside you. Frankly, it shouldn't be possible."
Johnny tried to laugh, but it came out weak. "You mean I'm a science project now?"
Connors' expression softened. "You're alive. That's what matters. The rest… we can figure it out."
Silence filled the room for a moment. The faint beep of the heart monitor was the only sound.
Connors sighed and glanced down at his clipboard again. "Your teacher, Mr. Collins, was quite shaken. He's been calling every hour asking about you. And there was also a girl—a redhead. She refused to leave until we told her you were stable."
Johnny blinked, confused for a moment before realizing. "Eve…"
"She seemed… very worried," Connors said with a faint smile. "You've got good friends, Johnny."
Johnny looked away, feeling a strange warmth in his chest — not the fiery kind this time.
Connors cleared his throat. "Now, as for your condition… I'd like to keep you here for observation. We need to understand what happened, make sure there aren't any delayed effects. But—" he paused, adjusting his glasses, "—you're a minor, and technically, we can't hold you here against your will. If you prefer to go home, you're free to."
Johnny hesitated, staring at the floor. The idea of staying hooked up to machines terrified him… but so did the idea of walking out and pretending everything was normal.
He rubbed his arm nervously. "If I stay… what are you gonna do?"
"Just some non-invasive tests," Connors said gently. "Blood samples, temperature readings, energy scans. No pain, I promise."
Johnny nodded slowly. "Alright… I'll stay. Just for a bit."
Connors smiled, a glint of genuine gratitude in his tired eyes. "Good. I'll have the nurse bring you some food. You've earned it, hero."
Johnny looked up, startled. "Hero?"
Connors' tone softened. "You saved my boy, Johnny. That makes you one in my book."
When Connors left the room, Johnny leaned back on the bed and exhaled. His eyes drifted toward his hand. For a moment — just a flicker — a faint orange glow pulsed under his skin, like embers stirring.
He quickly clenched his fist and whispered to himself, half in awe, half in fear:
"What the…?"
---
The next two hours passed in a blur of white walls and buzzing machines.
Dr. Connors and his team ran every test they could think of — blood samples, temperature scans, even energy resonance imaging. They drew vials of his blood that shimmered faintly under ultraviolet light. His body temperature never dropped below 39°C, yet he didn't show any symptoms. The only consistent pattern they found was a faint energy emission, like low-level radiation, radiating from his skin whenever he was anxious.
Connors called it "a controlled biological combustion field."
Johnny called it "weird fire stuff."
Despite all their tests, Johnny felt… fine. Stronger, even. His skin felt warmer, his senses sharper. He could see details he'd never noticed before — like the faint crack on the wall across the room or the rhythmic pulse on Connors' neck when he spoke.
Finally, on the third hour, Connors told him he could leave.
"We'll call you if we find anything new," the scientist said as he handed Johnny a small envelope with his medical report. "Try to take it easy, and if anything unusual happens, come straight back."
Johnny nodded. "Yeah… sure. Thanks, Doctor Connors. For everything."
Connors smiled faintly. "Thank you, Johnny. Not many people would've done what you did."
Johnny shrugged awkwardly. "Guess I didn't really think about it."
"Exactly." Connors said softly. "That's what made it heroic."
Outside the lab, Mr. Collins was waiting beside the school bus. The man looked exhausted — his tie was crooked, and his expression hovered somewhere between relief and panic.
"Johnny!" he said, walking quickly toward him. "You scared the life out of me, kid. What were you thinking?"
Johnny rubbed the back of his neck, trying not to make eye contact. "I wasn't, sir. I just… saw the kid and moved."
Mr. Collins sighed, the frustration melting into relief. "Well… you did good, Storm. Real good. The principal's been calling, and half your classmates think you blew up."
Johnny gave a short, embarrassed laugh. "Not yet."
The teacher chuckled lightly. "Come on. Let's get you back to school before this turns into a news story."
---
The ride back felt like a dream. Johnny sat quietly, staring out the bus window as the city blurred past. He could still see the flash, the flames, the terror in everyone's eyes. It replayed in his head over and over.
When they arrived at Reginald Vel Johnson High, word had already spread.
As soon as he stepped out of the bus, students surrounded him like he was a celebrity.
"Dude, I heard you caught fire!"
"Did they say what happened?"
"Is it true you saved a kid?"
Johnny stammered out half-answers, smiling nervously while Mr. Collins tried to calm everyone down. Inside, his chest tightened. He wasn't used to being the center of attention — he didn't like it.
Then he spotted her.
Eve stood by the entrance, arms crossed, watching the crowd. Her expression was a mix of relief and disbelief. When she caught his eye, she smiled — small, genuine.
He managed to slip through the crowd, walking up to her. "Hey," he said, voice low. "Guess I made a mess of the field trip, huh?"
Eve shook her head. "You made a mess of their containment chamber, maybe. But you saved a kid's life. That's… that's something, Johnny."
He laughed awkwardly, rubbing his arm. "Yeah, well, I didn't really think about it. Just kinda moved. I guess I'm lucky it didn't, you know… cook me alive."
Eve smiled, stepping a little closer. "You looked like you were on fire, but you didn't burn. I thought…" she paused, then smirked. "I thought you were toast, honestly."
Johnny chuckled. "Thanks for the optimism."
"Hey, you proved me wrong. You're tougher than you look."
He looked away quickly, his cheeks heating. "Guess so."
They stood there in comfortable silence for a moment. The chaos of the hallway faded a bit.
"Anyway," Eve said softly, "what you did was brave, Johnny. Seriously. You could've died."
"Yeah," he said with a weak smile. "But… if I did, at least it would've been for something that mattered."
Eve looked at him — really looked — and for the first time, Johnny didn't feel invisible.
"Still," she said, brushing a strand of red hair behind her ear, "try not to make a habit out of that, okay?"
He grinned. "No promises."
She laughed, light and genuine. It was the first time anyone had laughed with him in a long time.
Johnny didn't know what to say. He scratched the back of his neck, avoiding her gaze, though a small smile crept onto his face. "Guess I'm full of surprises."
Eve tilted her head, that easy smile still on her lips. "Yeah, apparently you are."
There was a short pause, and then she said, almost casually, "Hey, maybe sometime we could… I don't know, hang out? You know, outside of near-death school trips."
Johnny blinked, caught off guard. "Wait, what?"
She laughed again. "I mean, just as friends! Maybe grab a soda or something. You seem cool, Johnny."
"Oh," he said quickly, forcing a grin even as his chest tightened a little. "Yeah, sure. As friends."
"Yeah," she said, smiling warmly. "Just friends."
That last part stung more than he wanted to admit. He didn't even know why. Eve wasn't flirting — she was being kind, genuine. But for someone like Johnny, who'd spent most of his life unnoticed, even a few kind words could twist into something complicated inside his head.
"Sounds good," he said finally, his voice soft. "Just… let me know when."
"Deal," Eve said with a grin, stepping backward as the bell rang. "Try not to set anyone else on fire till then, okay?"
He laughed weakly. "No promises."
"See you, hero."
The word hero lingered in the air long after she'd walked away.
---
The rest of the day passed in a blur. The classes felt longer than usual, the teachers kept asking if he was alright, and every few minutes someone new approached him with a variation of "You're the kid from the Oscorp thing, right?" He smiled through it all, nodding, joking, pretending it didn't bother him.
But deep down, he hated it. He wanted attention but not like this, not from being the guy who was set in fire, he wanted attention by his character
By the time the final bell rang, Johnny was exhausted. He didn't feel like a hero. He felt only like the the popular topic everyone was talking about and that after a day or maybe two, everyone would forget that it existed again, best case scenario was he being remembered as the burning guy, great.
He sighed as he thought on this.
The bus ride home was quiet. He sat alone again, just like always. He could still smell faint traces of the lab — the disinfectant, the ozone, the smoke. He watched the city blur past the window until his stop came.
Home was the same as always: silent, empty, and too big for one person. His parents' old furniture still filled the rooms, untouched. The fridge hummed softly as he opened it, grabbing a leftover soda.
He slumped onto the couch, staring at the blank TV screen. The silence pressed in.
You saved a kid's life.
You almost died.
You're lucky to be alive.
He'd heard those lines a dozen times already, and every time, they felt heavier.
"Yeah," he muttered bitterly to himself. "Lucky."
He leaned back, closing his eyes. "The most interesting thing about me is that I almost died. Great legacy, Johnny."
Then, he felt it — a faint warmth spreading across his chest.
He frowned, opening his eyes. The soda can in his hand was starting to hiss, condensation evaporating instantly.
"What the…?"
He sat up quickly, dropping the can. It hit the floor with a metallic clink. His heart pounded as he looked down at his arm — a thin wisp of orange light pulsed beneath his skin, running along his veins like liquid fire.
"Not again…" he whispered.
He stumbled to the mirror by the hall, his reflection flickering in the dim light. His eyes were glowing faintly — not bright, just enough to see the ember-like hue under the surface. Heat radiated from his body, and small tongues of flame began to rise from his hands, licking harmlessly at the air.
"No, no, no—stop!" he shouted, shaking his hands in panic.
The flames only grew stronger, swirling upward for a second before sputtering out, leaving faint scorch marks on his sleeves. Johnny fell to his knees, panting, sweat dripping down his forehead.
When suddenly…silence returned.
He stared at his hands — unburned, steady, trembling.
"What's happening to me?" he whispered, voice breaking.
He looked around the empty house, his reflection still faintly glowing in the mirror.
And then…
FWOSH!
His body turned on fire spontaneously.
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