{Chapter: 31 - Johnny Storm And His Powers}
After securing a modest yet clean room in a nearby inn, Aiden let out a long, tired sigh and shut the door behind him. The night had been far more eventful than he had planned—filled with unexpected battles, misunderstandings, and the uncomfortable weight of collateral consequences. The room smelled faintly of pine and freshly laundered sheets, with a quiet hum of city noise muffled beyond the windows.
He cast a glance over his shoulder at the unconscious woman slumped gently on the bed. Susan Storm—the Invisible Woman. Even now, in her drunken stupor and light bruises from their scuffle, she radiated a kind of ethereal beauty. But getting her here hadn't been easy. Carrying a woman—especially a unconscious one—through the quiet halls of an inn late at night was always bound to invite suspicion.
The innkeeper, a portly man with sleepy eyes and a well-practiced smirk, had raised a brow as soon as he saw them. But a few crisp hundred-dollar bills folded neatly into the man's palm loosened any moral rigidity he may have pretended to possess. The innkeeper had chuckled knowingly, even nudging Aiden with a wink before handing him the room key.
Aiden had only offered a tired, wry smile in response. If only the old man knew what kind of disaster he'd just allowed under his roof.
Once alone, Aiden gently laid Susan on the bed, making sure her breathing was even. He didn't want her choking on her own breath. Despite their earlier confrontation, he harbored no malice. She had mistaken him for someone else—a villain named Puppet Master—and had lashed out. The fight had escalated, and before it could be resolved, Spider-Man had arrived and complicated things further. Another misunderstanding, another battle, this one even more one-sided.
Tonight was supposed to be relaxing. A glass of wine, some music, maybe flirt with someone at the bar. Instead, he'd ended up fighting two of the most well-known superheroes in New York.
To calm his frayed nerves, Aiden uncorked a bottle of red wine he'd picked up earlier from a high-end liquor shop—a vintage Merlot imported from a French vineyard known for crafting wines as smooth as silk and deep as twilight. The cork gave a soft pop, and the aroma filled the room with hints of plum, oak, and something older... something timeless.
He poured himself a generous glass and strolled toward the window. The city lights glittered like a field of stars spread across the Earth. He took a long sip, savoring the burn, and sank into the armchair by the small minibar.
As the warmth of the wine began to seep into his chest, his mind retraced the events of the night. Two fights. Two victories. And yet… a nagging dissatisfaction pulled at him. He had won, yes, but not in the way that felt triumphant. The victories had come without struggle. Too smooth. Too convenient. And in that ease lay the problem.
His battle with Susan Storm had taken longer than anticipated. She had been drunk, clearly not at her best, emotionally shaken and mentally unfocused. Still, her forcefields had held strong. Too strong. Breaking through had required several hits—something that shouldn't have been necessary under the circumstances. That detail gnawed at him. Her powers were mental in nature—controlled by willpower, clarity, emotional focus. If even in a drunken haze she could withstand him, what would she have done at her stable?
To the best of his knowledge, she was still quite distant from achieving her full potential; she's still doing the basic stuff with her power.
That realization made his brow furrow, his jaw tighten slightly. He wasn't as powerful as he thought. Not yet.
Then there was Spider-Man—young, reckless, always cracking jokes. He had burst into the scene with the energy of a tightly wound spring. Though the fight ended quickly, Aiden had noted the raw potential simmering beneath the surface. Spiderman is not really a powerful superhero, at least not yet; his strength is still growing far from reaching its peak. If he were at his peak, then he could have won with some struggle.
The kid was even distracted by trying to protect Susan. His heart was in the right place, and that made him dangerous. A hero fighting for others would always push themselves further than someone fighting for pride.
Still, Spider-Man wasn't the problem.
The wins had come too easily, yet they revealed a quiet, inconvenient truth: he wasn't quite as strong as he expected.
Although his ability to control fire was good, it was limited to manipulating the flames and not increasing their temperature. It is quite useful against some ordinary people or low-powered superheroes, but stronger powerhouses could still defeat him with relative ease.
Then there was the sonic scream. A weapon of raw devastation, but one that came with baggage. It couldn't be used freely amidst allies, and more importantly… Aiden hated using it. He detested the sensation of ripping open his mouth to release that unearthly howl—it felt primal, uncontrolled. Undignified.
He took another long sip of wine, letting it burn his throat slightly as he imagined the next steps.
Spider-Man would return—of that, he was certain. Bratty, loud, and annoyingly persistent. But this time, he wouldn't come alone. He knew he couldn't take Aiden one-on-one. So who would he turn to?
SHIELD, perhaps? The ever-watchful government hounds who loved to meddle? Or the Avengers and beg for backup? Iron Man might be curious. Or maybe—most likely—he'd rally the Fantastic Four. Family sticks together, after all.
He would probably call Johnny Storm aka Human Torch, since Susan is his elder sister and from what he knew Spiderman was a good friend with Human Torch who's character was arrogant, brash, impatient and fiercely protective of his sister. In a matter involving his sister he would definitely not listen to any reason and just charge in recklessly. His temper and ego made him predictable.
And that… could be used.
Aiden took another deep sip of wine, now pacing slowly by the foot of the bed. His eyes flicked back to Susan's sleeping form. Even in rest, her posture had a certain dignity to it. A calm, composed elegance that reminded him of why she was considered among the most respected heroines alive.
His lips curved into a slight smirk. If he played his cards right, he wouldn't just get revenge or cause chaos—he could evolve.
Originally, his plan had been to head to Hong Kong, find Chan Ho Yin—a street magician with a low-level pyrokinetic ability—and extract his flame control. The man was weak, a glorified performer. It would've been a simple, safe step forward in building Aiden's power set.
But now? There was a better opportunity.
Johnny Storm possessed more than just fire control. His flames could reach thousands of degrees. He could fly, morph his body into plasma, and even go supernova—a miniature sun erupting with cataclysmic force. If Aiden could gain control over such an ability… if he could merge it with what he already possessed…
"I'd become pretty powerful!" he murmured aloud.
But it wouldn't be simple. Taking Johnny's power meant baiting him, pushing him into a confrontation.
And perhaps… if he could twist the narrative just right, he could frame it as an accident. A misunderstanding. Let the world see Aiden as a victim—another target of superhero aggression.
If he played his cards right he could gain the ability to produce flames, control heat, without gaining the animosity of other Superheroes.
He could even spin the story for Susan. Make her believe she was manipulated, that it wasn't him she fought. Plant doubt in her mind. Maybe even earn her trust, or at least her neutrality.
With the right manipulation, he could pull it off.
As the night deepened, the wineglass emptied. The room fell into silence, broken only by the occasional siren in the distance and the soft hum of the city beyond. Aiden stood by the window, watching the moonlight spill across rooftops.
The world was filled with power. All of it there for the taking. He just had to be patient. Strategic.
Behind him, Susan stirred slightly in her sleep, murmuring something unintelligible.
Aiden didn't turn.
He simply smirked.
"Let's see if I can take the fire from the Human Torch… without burning the bridge with the Superhero community."
---
"Johnny, your sister—Susan—she was taken away," Spider-Man's voice crackled with urgency over the line. "Her kidnapper's name is Aiden. I tracked his position to a nearby hotel. But listen—he's strong, too strong. I couldn't beat him. I tried, and… I failed."
On the other end of the call, Johnny Storm—better known as the Human Torch—had been lounging inside an upscale Manhattan club, basking in neon lights, music thumping around him, and a cocktail in hand. He was halfway through charming a brunette socialite when his phone buzzed.
"Peter?" he said casually, glancing at the screen. "Yo, Spidey, come join me—place is wild tonight. You need to lighten up—"
But the moment Spider-Man's strained words registered, all the warmth drained from Johnny's face. His heart dropped. "What?" he shot up from the leather couch, knocking over his drink. "What do you mean Susan's been taken? Where is she? Send me the address—now!"
The girl beside him, a model from Brooklyn, pouted and wrapped an arm around his. "Johnny, babe… where are you going? You promised to stay and dance with me…"
He barely looked at her as he peeled her arm off with a hurried smile. "Sorry, sweetheart. Family emergency." His tone grew firmer. "Some lunatic thinks they can mess with my family. I'm about to teach him a lesson he won't forget. Don't worry—I'll be back before you even notice I'm gone. And then, maybe I'll show you a real heat."
Without waiting for a response, Johnny stormed out the door of the club. The night air hit him like a slap, sharp and cold. He stepped into the alley, took a deep breath, and shouted, "Flame on!"
In a brilliant explosion of orange and white heat, Johnny's body ignited in a burst of living fire. His casual wear incinerated instantly, replaced by the radiant corona of flames. He rocketed into the sky like a meteor, leaving behind a trail of heat and sparks that painted streaks across the night sky.
---
Above the Hotel Rooftop
Spider-Man waited, his mask scorched and suit torn in several places. Blood seeped through a gash in his side, and his left arm hung awkwardly, possibly sprained. He stood atop the hotel's rooftop, every muscle tense.
Not even twenty seconds had passed since the call when a burning streak appeared in the sky. It grew larger, hotter, until it slammed down beside him in a dramatic entrance. The rooftop cracked under the heat as Johnny hovered above, his body blazing like a miniature sun.
"Where is he?" Johnny's voice was sharp, filled with fury. "Where's the freak who dared to lay a hand on my sister—a member of the Fantastic Four?"
Spider-Man coughed slightly. "Ninth floor, corner suite. But listen, Johnny—this guy didn't even bother hiding. That means he's confident. You should call Reed and Ben. We need backup—he could be a mutant or something else entirely. He can manipulate fire. You're walking into danger."
"Mutant, demon, alien—I don't care!" Johnny snapped, eyes burning like twin furnaces. "No one controls fire better than me. No one hurts my sister and walks away." And with that, he soared off the rooftop toward the ninth floor in a streak of flame.
---
Ninth Floor – Suite 917
Inside the hotel suite, Aiden sat calmly in a velvet armchair, the rich red wine in his glass swirling gently under his fingers. Across from him, Susan Storm lay unconscious on the large bed, her breathing even and stable. The curtains were drawn open, and the city's golden glow filtered through the glass panes, casting warm hues across the room.
Aiden glanced toward the window, sensing the heat signature drawing near. A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips.
"He's here," he murmured.
Human Torch flew towards the 9th floor. Through the windows he saw Susan lying in one of the rooms. And he saw a man sitting on a couch in the lobby drinking red wine.
"It must be you." Human Torch said, and flew into the room.
Crack! Bam!...
Suddenly, the glass exploded in a roaring burst of fire and shattered glass. Johnny Storm crashed into the suite, his body radiating enough heat to warp the air. Shards of glass flew in every direction as smoke and sparks rained down.
The windows were directly destroyed by him.
"Sure enough, he came." Looking at Human Torch in his flame mode, Aiden didn't panic.
"You," Johnny pointed a flaming finger at Aiden. "You're Aiden. The bastard who kidnapped my sister. You really want to be a enemy of the Fantastic Four?"
Aiden raised his brows, unfazed. "Kidnapped? Is that what you think happened?" he asked, his voice smooth, even bored. "You're jumping to conclusions. I found her drunk and delirious in an alley. She mistook me for someone else and attacked me. I simply defended myself and brought her here to rest. So I think this may be a misunderstanding."
"Lies!" Johnny roared. "You expect me to believe that? I don't think this is a misunderstanding."
Aiden didn't flinch. "Does it look like I care whether you do or not?"
That was all Johnny needed to hear.
He raised both hands and unleashed a wide cone of fire directly at Aiden. The flames surged forward, melting furniture and glass in their wake. Aiden leapt to the side, rolling across the floor as the couch behind him exploded into burning fragments.
Johnny followed up with a stream of concentrated fire, sending it like a whip toward his target. But Aiden was quick—unnervingly so. He dodged left, then right, narrowly avoiding the scorching heat.
Poor little Johnny, in his overconfidence, had stepped into a trap…