You tapped your badge against the panel and waited, shifting your weight while trying not to overthink the fact that you were heading toward a job that included words like cosmic and mutation in the contract.

And of course, as soon as the doors slid open there he was. Johnny Storm, in all his glory, leaning against the elevator wall like it was a runway photo shoot.

“Wow,” he said, smirking. “They really let anyone in here these days.”

You didn’t even flinch. “Still trying to flirt with your own reflection, Johnny?”

That got him. “Okay. You still got that attitude.”

You stepped in and hit the button for the top floor. “You still got that ego.”

He chuckled, leaning beside you now. “Grew up a little, though. Saved the world twice. Set one, maybe two labs on fire. That’s growth.”

The elevator hummed. The silence between you wasn’t awkward, exactly. You hadn’t seen Johnny in years, since before the radiation storm, before the world knew his name. You remembered him as the neighbor kid who thought skateboarding off the shed roof made him a legend.

Back then, he was just Johnny. Loud, fast, impossible to ignore. Not The Human Torch.

“So,” he said, eyes flicking sideways. “What? You here to research me? Write a paper on how cool I am?”