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Johnny Storm checks his phone for the three thousandth time in the last hour. It’s been two days since he has heard from Candice and its extremely unusual of her not to text him back. Why isn’t she answering my texts? It’s not like she’s his girlfriend or anything, well at least that’s the way he sees it. He likes to think of them as friends of benefits, or fuck buddies if you will. Whenever he spends most of his day saving the world and decides he needs a ‘quickie’, she’s the one he’d usually call; and not just because she’s willing to do anything in the bedroom, but because she’s always available.
It’s nearly 7 o’clock and Johnny knows that if she had a photo-shoot today, she’d at least be home by now. So he figures he’d just fly by her apartment and see if she’s home. He does just that, and moments later, he’s airborne outside a luxurious twenty-five story apartment building. He peers inside her window; the lights are on and she’s sitting by her vanity combing her hair. Johnny knocks on the window and she nearly jumps out of her skin. She searches around the room in a panic, and then she sees Johnny by her window. He smiles at her but she glares at him with exasperation. Uh oh. She looks angry. Why is she angry? She pads to the window and stares at him briefly before opening it. “What do you want?” she yells out. “Umm, I want … you?” he responds questionably. She doesn’t laugh; instead she looks even angrier. “Why are you here?” she demands. Johnny’s baffled and raises his left brow out of curiosity. “What are you talkin’ about?” he asks innocently. “What do you think I’m talkin’ about” she mocks antagonistically. He gives her a weird look and she rolls her eyes and walks back to her vanity. He takes this opportunity to invite himself in. She grabs her phone and walks back to the hero, who now stands inside her room. “Who’s this?” She practically shoves her phone in his face and he takes it from her hands to get a better look. It’s a picture of him and the waitress on his motorcycle. The headline reads “The Human Torch And His New Girlfriend Have A Wild Night Out.” Then the article goes on to say that he and ‘the mystery girl’ ran a red light and nearly knocked over an old lady. All which were entirely untrue. Johnny lowers the phone and says “You don’t actually believe this do you?” “Should I?” she retorts, with arched brows and crossed arms. He tries to convince her with a smile, but her expression is stagnant. “Who is she?” Candice asks, snatching her phone from his grasp. Johnny’s smile fades and his eyes wander the room. “She’s just some girl” he states concisely in a low voice. “Did you sleep with her?!?” comes the next question. “No. I didn’t” he protests. She stares at him as if she’s trying to figure out if he’s telling her the truth or not. She wants to believe him. She wants to believe him so bad, but she just can’t. Tears fill her eyes and her voice cracks, “Why don’t I believe you?” Johnny throws his hands up in frustration as he turns around to face the window, “Y’know what? Believe whatever you wanna believe!” he announces. “That’s the thing, Johnny. I don’t want to believe it” she tells him. Johnny decides he’s had enough; he doesn’t like being accused of something he knows he didn’t do. He begins to make his way back out the window but he stops in his tracks when Candice’s voice calls out to him. “I mean, what am I to you? Just some booty call?” she shouts. The room falls silent in verification and Candice places her hand to her mouth in recognition. Johnny remains silent for a brief moment before he leaves her room, taking off in flames. I don’t need to deal with this. I just want to get drunk and forget this whole thing ever happened.
Two hours later and Johnny’s in a night club. The place is packed and the music is so loud he can’t even hear his own thoughts. He sits by the bar and two exotic dancers stand beside him. He downs a shot while the brunette dancer on his left twirls his hair around her finger and the blonde one on his right toys with the collar of his shirt. He’s definitely feeling a buzz and he’s two shots a way from being completely drunk. ”So, maybe you should drop by the gentlemen’s club down the street one day, so I can give you a private dance.”, the brunette dancer suggests as she places her hand on his chin and pulls his head in her direction. Her face is close to his, way too close for comfort. She’s definitely the ugly of the two, he thinks to himself. From a scale from one to ten, she’s probably a 5. The brunette smiles, and a small wrinkle forms along the bump on her nose bridge. A nose job wouldn’t hurt and it would definitely bump her up to a 6. Just then, the blonde girl places her hand on Johnny’s leg and drags it closer near his groin, prompting him to look her way. She’s way more attractive than the other girl. Probably a solid 7… or a 7 and a half? No more than an 8. Neither girls are his type, but regardless of preference, he enjoys the attention.
The brunette challenges the blonde and grabs the hero’s attention once more by licking his ear, practically sticking her tongue inside. “So, what do you say, handsome? You gonna pop by?” she asks. “I work there on Saturdays and Sun--”, just then, she’s interrupted by a voice that booms, “Hey, we don’t pay you to hang around and do nothing! Get back to work!!” Johnny figures the man is their manager and he looks super pissed. The two women rush off without protest, leaving Johnny alone at the bar. He recalls making an appearance at this exact club many years ago. The easiest fifty grand I have ever made. He was much younger then and was craving for attention just as much as he craves sex. The Fantastic Four had just gone public and it was the first time he had been paid to make an appearance. At the time, he was so excited to have received that check. But nowadays he makes twice that amount. Maybe even triple. However, since his return, he hasn’t gotten any offers. Partly because he has of yet to hire a manager, and also due to the fact that some people are actually afraid of him; citing witchcraft as his means of resurrection. Whatever. He’s never gone public with how he’s returned, and nor does he plan to; he doesn’t think it’s anyone’s business. Not that the world particularly cares either, the people got their hero back, and that’s all they really wanted.
Johnny turns around in his seat propping his elbows up by the bar table, and overlooks the dance floor. One redheaded woman catches his eye. She’s dancing with a crowd of her friends, wearing a party hat on her head; one can only assume it’s her birthday. Watching her, he knows just how easy it would be to convince her to come back with him to his apartment; although her friends would more than likely try to convince her otherwise. But she looks a little too young. She’d possibly be reluctant, and he decides it would take more effort than he’s willing to put in at the moment. His attention shifts to another young woman. This young woman sports pitch black hair and she’s wearing a short dress that seems to be revealing a little bit more than she intended it to, at the moment. She’s clearly drunk and she can’t even walk in the 6 inch heels her friends probably pressured her into wear this evening. The young woman grips onto her drink while she dances wildly on the dance floor, spilling it all over herself. The woman’s not that bad looking, but a couple more shots and Johnny’s positive she’ll start looking like a solid ten. He rotates his seat and tells the bartender to hook him up with another shot. “The strongest one you got”, he requests. At that same moment, the crowd cheers behind him and Johnny turns around in his chair to see what the commotion’s all about. He sees Hawkeye with a crowd forming around him, as he does cheap tricks in attempts to impress the women. What the fuck is he doing here?
Johnny’s no stranger to performing cheap tricks in a club. He has done them numerous times on many different occasions and he loves the reactions he gets from the crowds. But today, he just wants to get drunk and find some decent looking girl who he can take home and fuck senseless. He could easily perform a trick and get tons of women dropping their panties for him, but he’s a little drunk and doesn’t want to risk setting the whole place on fire. And to be honest, he’s had more than enough bad publicity for one night. The bartender places the shot in front of Johnny and says, “Here ya go, buddy.” Johnny turns back around, while responding, “Thanks, dude.” He stares at the shot glass, almost as if he’s contemplating consumption. The crowd cheers again and Johnny’s eyes are drawn to the commotion once more. This time he sees Hawkeye taking aim with a toothpick towards a guy who holds an olive up against his forehead. Hawkeye throws the toothpick and it lands directly in the center of the olive, and the crowd applauds. Johnny grunts in response to the crowd’s reaction. Oddly, sometimes people don’t recognize him when he’s in his normal form. Sometimes they only recognize him when he introduces himself by name or ignites any part of his body on fire. Then of course there are people who recognize him in any form. Tonight he didn’t want attention but seeing Hawkeye reveling in the attention that could’ve very easily have been his own, fills him with envy.
Putting his hands up and letting out a chuckle, Hawkeye tells the crowd, “Alright, alright. That’s enough for today.” And as he breaks away from the crowd, the crowd awes in disappointment. Johnny is fueling with jealousy and flames inadvertently dance around the tips of his hair. Hawkeye notices the flames as he makes his way to the bar, and instantly knows who the other man is; there really aren’t that many blonde guys who can light themselves on fire these days. He pats Johnny on the back, and Johnny’s slightly startled. “Hey, Torchy. I didn’t know you were here” Hawkeye tells the other man, while looking at him through his opaque trademark purple glasses. Johnny turns his head in the direction of the other hero, but doesn’t look directly at him. “Yeah”, he grumbles. Clint Barton leans over on the bar table towards the bartender and tells him he wants two margaritas. ”One for me, and one for the pretty lady over there”, he says while gesturing to a blonde woman who patiently awaits his return. The bartender smiles and nods before stating, “Two margaritas comin’ up.” The archer then turns his attention back to Johnny, “So, how’re things with the FF?” he asks.” Like you actually give a shit” the younger hero huffs under his breath. Clint leans closer to Johnny. “What?” he shouts, he couldn’t quite hear him with the music blasting. Johnny finally turns towards him but doesn’t give him an answer. Clint sees Johnny’s face and he instantly knows he’s almost drunk. His eyelids are heavy and he seems irritable. The bartender places two margaritas in front of Hawkeye just as Johnny gulps down another shot. Capturing Hawkeye’s attention, he suggests “Hey, take it easy, man” This triggers something within Johnny and his jealousy is suddenly converted to anger. He can’t tell if it’s due to the alcohol in his system or if he just genuinely hates the guy. Hawkeye and he have hung out together in the past, but it was never on their own account. Usually during team-ups or poker nights at the Avenger’s Tower, and although they got along just fine, Johnny never considered him a close friend.
"You think you can tell me what to do just because you’re an Avenger?" he slurs. Johnny’s voice is dark and it almost sounds like a threat. In hindsight, he doesn’t know why he said that or if he truly felt that way; later he would just blame it on the alcohol or deny he had ever said it. Clint looks into his blue eyes and he can tell he’s lost. "Look, man, I was just trying to help", the archer says, while he grabs the two margaritas and walks away. Just then, Johnny gets up and abruptly grabs his arm. Hawkeye accidentally drops the margaritas and grimaces. "Hey, I asked you a question!" the young blonde shouts. Without turning to look at the other man, Clint says with calmness, "Take your hand off of me." Johnny doesn’t budge. Instead, his grip tightens on the forearm of his peer. "I said take your hand off of me!" Clint swiftly turns around and punches Johnny in the face. Johnny staggers backwards and falls back towards the bar table, knocking over drinks. The people at the bar get up and run off into the crowd. The people around them gasp and the club falls silent. Johnny’s immediate reaction is to grab his nose. Johnny’s appearance is his everything and the last thing he needs is a broken nose. He then feels a throbbing pain on his right cheek and he’s relieved he wasn’t punched in the nose. However, Johnny’s anger increases. "You punched me in the face", he points out to the other man in rage. Hawkeye shrugs and says "I warned you."
Johnny glares at the other hero with hatred in his eyes. He lunges forward and, without thought, ignites himself in flames. He grabs Hawkeye by the jacket of his tux and holds him high in the air while he flies forward to nowhere in specific; as it turns out, he hasn’t actually thought it entirely through. Clint punches Johnny once more on the right side of his face, in hopes that he would be released from the other man’s tight grip. However, the impact of Clint’s fist making contact with his face stuns Johnny and he unintentionally crashes both of them through the front window.
The two men lay feet away from each other surrounded by shards of glass. All the people from inside the club rush out and form a circle around the two heroes, taking pictures and videotaping the altercation that unfolds before them. Johnny’s dazed and tries to get to his feet. His cheek stings like hell, but he tries to keep a straight face. Hawkeye also regains his stance and the crowd gasps when they see him covered in cuts and bruises. “What the fuck?!?” the archer shouts, while wiping the blood from his mouth. The crowd boos at Johnny, who doesn’t appear to have a scratch on him. Evidently, Hawkeye took the brunt of the impact. “This is why no one likes you, you know that? This is why you don’t have any fucking friends!” the archer shouts with his arms spread wide. Johnny’s eyes open wide. This statement hurts worse than the punch he received earlier. It hurts because it’s true, and the truth always hurts. Always. Johnny feels abashed and perturbed by his own actions. He gawks at Hawkeye for a short moment before taking off in a hurry. ”You arrogant prick”, Clint mumbles as he watches the hotheaded hero fly away from the scene.
Johnny flies blindly at full speed, leaving behind ashes as his clothes slowly disintegrate. He feels a mixture of anger, embarrassment and shame. He nearly crashes face first into a billboard, but luckily he is able to avoid it. It’s true. There aren’t many people who I can actually call a friend. But who the fuck is he to judge me anyways? His brain is so flustered and he can’t even think straight. Johnny’s so lost in his own thoughts that he doesn’t notice Spiderman, who swings on his web across the direction in which Johnny is heading. Johnny’s going so fast that by the time Spidey sees the Human Torch coming at him, there is no time to react and Johnny slams right into him. Johnny goes tumbling across the street and nearly gets hit by a car, while Spiderman fails to break his own fall and lands flat on his back. Johnny jumps up and without looking up shouts, “Hey, watch where you’re going, asshole!” Upon finishing his sentence he looks up, and is shocked to see Spiderman. Dusting himself off, Peter tells his longtime friend, “Me? You’re the one who slammed into me! ” Johnny realizes he’s at fault and remains silent. As Spiderman walks a little closer towards Johnny, he notices the discoloration on his right cheek. Tilting his head to the left, he asks “Hey, are you alright?” The concern in Spiderman’s voice frightens Johnny. He raises his hand to his cheek and wonders if it looks worse than he initially thought. Spiderman waits for an answer but doesn’t get one, as Johnny just takes off without a word.
The youngest Fantastic Four member reaches the balcony of his apartment and slides open the glass door that leads to his bedroom. He races straight for the bathroom, flicks on the light, and stares at his own reflection in the mirror. His cheek is slightly blue but definitely not nearly as bad as he thought it would be. It should heal within a couple of days, he guesses, while still examining himself. He winces when he tries to touch it and decides it’s best to put some ice to it. Before heading to the kitchen, he strips off the remnants of his singed clothing and tosses them to the side. Now in nothing but his boxers, he stands in front of the freezer in search for something to place on his swelling cheek. He eventually comes across a bag of frozen fries and decides it’s good enough. Huh, don’t remember buying this. He picks it out of the freezer and flips it over observingly. Meh, it’ll have to do. He shrugs his shoulders and places the frozen bag on his right cheek. The bag is unnecessarily large for such a small bruise and almost looks ridiculous. Johnny walks back to his room and lies down on the bed. So much for good publicity. He sighs, knowing the entire world is going to know about tonight’s fiasco by tomorrow morning. Even worse, Sue’s gonna hear about it and then I’m never gonna hear the end of it. And Candice… he stops mid-thought; he doesn’t really want to think of her. He stares up at his ceiling and Hawkeye’s voice reverberates in his mind: “This is why no one likes you, you know that? This is why you don’t have any fucking friends!” Johnny rolls his eyes. He’s tired. Way too tired and drunk to ponder on those words. He closes his eyes and slowly drifts to sleep.