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It’s 12:52 p.m. on a Wednesday, and a huge circular crowd forms in front of the Baxter Building in midtown Manhattan. The crowd is fairly large and settles in the middle of the street, blocking traffic. Cars honk their horns and drivers poke their heads out, shouting that they’re going to be late for work. But the people in the crowd pay no attention as they aggressively push and shove one another, attempting to get closer to the individual at the center. An older woman in the crowd struggles to retrieve her phone from her bag, as the many people in the crowd shove her left and right. Her fingers frantically trail the interior of her fake Louis Vuitton handbag, while she strains her neck and stands on the tips of her toes trying to get a glimpse of the man responsible for all the chaos. A couple seconds later she’s finally victorious in finding her obsolete device. She holds it high above her head and blindly snaps pictures. Bringing the phone back down towards her face, she views the snapshots and lets out a low sigh in disappointment, as the photos display nothing but blurred images of the various hands belonging to those in the crowd. Just then, a much younger woman violently shoves her, knocking her phone out of her hand and onto the ground; smashing it into pieces upon impact. The younger woman hustles her way through the crowd, aggressively nudging and pushing other women out of the way. As she advances to the front of the crowd, her eyes light up. At the center of the crowd stands one of the world’s greatest heroes, the Human Torch.
Johnny Storm grins widely as the cameras flash and people shout indistinctively. The crowd grows larger and larger by the minute, and the circumference of his personal space gradually decreases, making him slightly uncomfortable. But it’s not entirely unusual for him, as he deals with crowds like this on a daily basis so it’s nothing new to him. He waves while he smiles brightly at the crowd. I’m used to this. But it never gets old. His eyes trail over the crowd surrounding him. It consists of mostly women and only a few men. Many of the women amongst the crowd are around his age and would give anything to have the opportunity to spend one night with him; and he would gladly comply, except there’s millions of them and only one of him.
The hero steps forward towards the crowd as fans hold paper and pen in each hand, pleading for an autograph. He observes each picture as he signs them; many are actual pictures of him, some are portraits, and a few are just simple drawings. Simple, but impressive, he decides. A young girl, approximately 16 or 17 years of age, holds out a headshot of the famous hero in one hand and a black sharpie marker in the other. She shouts his name repetitively at the top of her lungs until he finally approaches her. Johnny gently takes the photo and the marker from the girl’s hands. Holding the photograph he raises it up towards the sky, craning his head back as he examines it. He scrunches up his face before bringing it back down to eye level. With the picture still between his fingertips, he ignites his entire hand in flames; burning the picture. The girl’s eyes go wide and her jaw drops in shock. She glances at the ashes on the floor before looking back up at her favorite hero. “Sorry, kid. I couldn’t sign that. It was a bad hair day” he announces while he takes the girl’s hand and signs her forearm instead. The young girl marvel’s at his penmanship for a moment. “Oh my god, I am never washing my arm!” the teen shrieks. Johnny laughs as he steps back, allowing the people in the crowd to take his picture.
The people shout his name in every direction, but his attention is captured by only one woman in the crowd. The woman appears to be around his age. Her light brown curly hair falls a couple inches past her shoulders. She wears a pair of pale blue shorts and a tight white shirt that cuts obscenely low around her bust, revealing a large amount of cleavage. Her lips are colored a bright shade of pink and the green eye-shadow, carefully applied just below her eyebrows, emphasize her beautiful light green eyes. She holds out a magazine and he takes it. It’s an image of him on the cover of People’s Magazine. In the photograph he’s clad in his original blue and black Fantastic Four uniform, standing proudly with a smug attitude. Glaring at it he remembers that day exactly; it was the day before he died. The first time anyway. He knows because standing behind him in the picture is Ben Grimm. Human Ben. Thanks to Val and Franklin, Ben is able to be human for one week each year; and the week before Johnny died, Ben was able to revert back to his “normal” form. He recalls how different Ben was in his human skin. Not just in appearance, but in the way he carried himself; he seemed…happy. I’ve never seen him that happy before. His skin was soft, his smile was radiant and he had a full head of hair. He enshrines the moment he heard Ben laugh; it was like no laugh he has ever heard before. A laugh he would only be able to hear for one week each year. He also remembers how weird it was to be around Ben in his human form. It has been so long since Johnny has seen the real him; and sure Ben looked and sounded completely different, but there was one thing that never changed. His eyes. His big blue eyes.
Johnny stares at the photograph for a moment before looking back up at the woman, who now holds out a pen. He takes the pen and the young woman jumps up and down in excitement. “Oh my god, I’m a huge fan” she squeals. Eyeing the woman’s breasts as they bounce up and down, he grins as he says, “Yeah, I bet you are.” He takes his time with his signature; perfecting every curve, every letter in his name. “Can-can I touch your, um, your hair?” the attractive woman asks hopefully, as Johnny hands her back the magazine now complete with an autograph. A small smile creeps upon his face as he bows his head compliantly. She runs her fingers through his blonde hair, remarking how silky and soft it is.
Just then the crowd screams wildly and points to the sky above. Johnny raises his head just in time to catch a glimpse of the new Captain Marvel swooshing by. Johnny backs away from the attractive young woman as his body heat rises exponentially and flames dance around the corners of his shoulders. The fans surrounding him feel the unbearable heat and immediately back away in caution. He flashes a smile once more at the young woman and winks at her before his entire body bursts into flames. He goes airborne; taking off into the sky in pursuit of the beautiful Avenger.
Captain Marvel soars high in the bright blue sky with her fists outstretched before her. Her eyes are fixated in front of her as well, until she feels an immense amount of heat exuding from her right side. She dares not to look, as she has an idea who all that heat is radiating from. The heat grows hotter and hotter until the sourced flames are visible in her peripheral vision. “It’s weird how we keep bumping into each other, right?” the flamed hero exclaims. Carol Danvers’s eyes shift to the right to get a look at the other hero. In a comfortable position, he glides on his back with both arms crossed behind his head. “I mean, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were stalking me” he adds. Still peering at him from the corner of her eyes, she recognizes his smile. The same narcissistic smile he had across his face the other day when he approached her after the Avengers meeting. That same smile he knowingly reserves for any other girl in his presence. It’s a nice smile, she admits, and perhaps it’s supposed to make her feel special, but it doesn’t. “It’s not polite to stare” he points out. Carol’s eyes flicker and she shakes her head slightly before pulling her attention away from him. “Well, you can stare if you want. I don’t mind” he tells her flirtatiously. She feels her whole body tense up and her expression quickly hardens as she flies ahead of him. Johnny frowns before chasing after her.
Feeling the approaching heat, she doesn’t have to look back to know that he’s on her trail. Johnny picks up speed, trying to catch up to her. He pushes forward with all his might, but he sees her disappearing into the distance, almost out of view. Even when travelling at a speed of 150mph, he knows he can’t keep up with her. She’s fast, I’ll give her that. Carol dips high and low, making sharp turns around buildings, trying to lose him. She zooms past a small building and circles around a larger one before resting her back against the concrete wall. Still airborne, the Avenger looks around and lets out a low sigh in relief when she’s sure he’s nowhere in sight.
“Well, that was fun” a voice booms from above. “But you didn’t think you could lose me that easily, did ya?” Captain Marvel raises her head skyward to see the handsome flamed-off blonde hero peering down at her from atop the roof. He beams at her when she flies up towards him, meeting him at eye level. “What do I have to do to get you to stop following me?” she finally asks exhaustively. Now that he has finally gotten her to speak, he grins widely, reveling in his own personal achievement. “Hmm…” he begins thoughtfully, tapping his index finger against his chin. “I’m not sure there’s anything you can do” he continues jokingly. Clearly not amused, she turns away from him; not the reaction he was hoping for. Fearing she’s going to take off again, he knows he has to say something, and fast. “Have lunch with me” he blurts out. Those words take her by surprise. Raising a brow and crossing her arms, she gives him an indirect ultimatum. “If I have lunch with you, will you stop following me?” she asks. “Maybe” he quips. She tilts her head to the side and takes a deep breath, followed by a long pause. “Well say something” Johnny urges playfully. “Well, I don’t know what to say” she huffs admittedly, dropping her arms down by her side. “Say yes” Johnny enjoins with a smirk. She ponders for a while longer, trying to figure him out. She wonders why. Why her? Why now? He’s unusually quiet as he waits patiently for her response. The smile upon his face is perfect in every possible way, and she knows he puts it on purposely to convince her; and if she were any other woman, she’s sure it would. As time passes, his smile begins to fade and she feels a sense of pity for him. “Okay, fine” she finally gives in, as the selfsame smile reappears across his face again.
Soon after, the two famous heroes sit at a table outside a small restaurant. Carol sits reclined in her seat with one leg crossed over the other. She narrows her eyes, clearly studying the man in front of her. “Why?” she asks obscurely. Johnny cocks a brow in bewilderment. ”Why what?” he inquires. “Why do you want to have lunch with me?” she clarifies. “Why not?” the other blonde retorts. “But why?” she persists, trying to get a straight answer. “Because I’m hungry” he jokes as he leans over the table to grab a french-fry from the tray that’s placed in the center of the round table. Shoving the fry in his mouth, he notices her glaring at him and he can tell she’s annoyed he didn’t answer her directly. He swallows quickly, “Because I wanted to have lunch with you. What’s wrong with that?” Hearing the seriousness in his voice, her face softens and she allows herself to relax; because maybe, just maybe, he isn’t the kind of guy she thought he was.
Johnny takes another fry and slams back against the chair, biting off half of it. “These are really good. You should have one” he suggests, gesturing to the single french-fry he encloses between his fingertips. He smiles before shoving the tray of fries across the table, in front of Carol. The corner of her mouth quirks up, as she takes a fry and bites off a piece of it. “Good, right?” Johnny asks. Carol nods, “Yeah, it is” she agrees. His feet shuffle under the table as he leans forward, resting his arms on the surface, “So, tell me, Captain Marvel. What’s with the name change?” Carol glances down at her hands. Captain Marvel is more than just a name. It means something greater. When Mar-Vell sacrificed himself, she realized what he meant to her and decided to take on his legacy. She doesn’t think of him as often as she’d like to; the sorrow is more than she can bear. “I guess I just wanted to try something new” she replies dryly. “Fair enough” Johnny shrugs. He stretches his arm across the table, reaching for another french-fry, and his hand accidentally knocks over his full cup of soda. The liquid rapidly streams across the table, leaking onto Carol’s lap. She instantly jumps out of her chair and Johnny rushes over to her as well. “Shit, I’m so sorry” he apologizes. “That was a complete accident” he insists, as he grabs a hand full of napkins and dabs the soaked areas of her costume. “It’s okay. It’s alright” she assures. Their eyes meet and they hold each other’s gaze for a moment, before Carol breaks off, looking away. “I have to go” she announces while walking away from him. Johnny frowns disappointedly. “Wait” he calls out to her. She stops in her tracks but doesn’t turn around to face the other hero. “Let me make it up to you” he offers sensually. Carol feels her face flush and she’s grateful her back is towards him. “Meet me at The Lincoln Center movie theater at 8, tomorrow night” he tells her. She’s afraid to face him. Afraid he’ll see the excitement she suppresses within her. “Okay fine” she consents. “But it’s not a date” she elucidates, finally turning her head in his direction with an austere countenance. She eyeballs him observingly. He’s handsome and he knows it. And she’s aware he knows she knows it, too. Some things just can’t be denied.
Johnny simpers as he nods in assent and watches her fly off into the sky. Once she’s out of sight, he makes his way back to the table. Some people believe everything happens for a reason. That everything in life happens simply because it’s destined to happen. The people we meet, the people we lose, the joy and sorrow we experience; it’s inevitable. It’s ordained or whatever. And there’s nothing we can do to stop it. Johnny sits back down in his chair, staring at the puddle of soda on the table which continues to drip onto the concrete floor. But I don’t believe any of that. I like to believe our lives play out based on the choices we make. I choose to believe that things happen, whether it be good or bad, simply because, well… because shit happens. I choose to believe we are in control of our own destinies; we are the ones who dictate our future, regardless of how shitty it may turn out.