You push open the door to the testing room, arms full of files meant for Reed, only to stop dead in your tracks.

Johnny is standing in front of a full-length mirror, wearing what can only be described as a ridiculous prototype suit. It’s skin-tight, jet black, and flares to life with orange sparks every time he moves an inch. When he stretches his arms, flames ripple across the seams in glowing patterns.

He catches your expression instantly.

“Okay, be honest,” he says, turning to face you and striking a half-serious pose. “Too much?”

You blink. “You look like a walking lava lamp.”

He grins, unbothered. “A very hot lava lamp.”