Max_Striker
patreon
Chapter 17: The Fantastic Four (Kinda) Assemble
🕑 Added 2025-08-07 14:38:42 +0000 UTCThe Baxter Building's living space looked like a hurricane had hit a newsroom. Empty takeout containers covered the coffee table, and three TV screens flickered with nonstop coverage.
Susan Storm stood at the windows, arms crossed, staring out at Manhattan without really seeing it. The city lights blurred around the edges where her visibility kept flickering on and off.
"Sue, you're doing that shimmer thing again," Johnny called from the couch, channel-surfing like his life depended on it. "Very dramatic, but also very obvious."
She looked down at her hands, watching the distortion ripple across her fingertips before forcing it to stop. "Sorry. I'm just—"
"Freaking out?" Johnny settled on CNN where talking heads debated whether the Fantastic Four were evolution or extinction. "Join the club. I'm thinking my action figure should have seventeen points of articulation and a flame-on sound effect."
"This isn't a joke, Johnny." Susan's voice had an edge that made him actually look up. "Government agencies are going to want to study us. Corporations will try to weaponize what we can do. People will see us as freaks or—"
"Hey." Johnny muted the TV, his tone gentler. "Remember when you got stage fright before the debate championship and froze for thirteen minutes? This is just like that, except instead of Mrs. Henderson's class, it's the entire world."
"That's completely different."
"Fine, terrible analogy. But you handled that, and you'll handle this." He grinned. "Besides, think of the merchandising. Breakfast cereals, Saturday morning cartoons. My theme song's gonna be epic—🎵 'Johnny Storm, he's our guy, if he can't do it, we'll all fry!' 🎵"
Susan threw a pillow at his head. Johnny dodged, laughing, but the sound felt forced.
From the corner came a low rumble. Ben Grimm sat in what used to be a normal armchair but now looked like doll furniture under his massive frame. His rocky fingers curved around something small—a black velvet ring box.
"Real nice, flame brain," Ben said without looking up. "Ya got a future in comedy. Right after ya learn to land without burnin' down Brooklyn."
"This was our first time! And it was only a car." Johnny's levity dimmed. "What's in the box?"
Ben's grip tightened. "Nothin' that matters now."
The room went quiet except for muted TV coverage of their earlier rescues. Susan moved to the coffee table's edge so she could see Ben properly.
"Ben, you don't have to—"
"Don’t." He held up one massive hand, voice rough. "Ain’t got time for feelin’s. Not when I gotta figure out how to stop bein’ a walkin’ boulder. I need my life back, Susie. I need me back."
The elevator chimed. Reed Richards emerged looking like he'd been through a blender—hair sticking up, shirt wrinkled, coffee stains on his jacket.
"Sorry I'm late. I was on a call with someone, then seventeen reporter messages, and the mayor's office wants to meet, and—" He stopped, taking in the scene. "You're all here."
"Where else would we be?" Susan asked.
Reed's face crumpled. "Anywhere but dealing with my mistakes." He walked to the room's center, hands clasped behind his back. "I keep thinking about everything that's happened, and it's all my fault. The cosmic rays, the transformation, going public—all because of my calculations."
Johnny groaned. "Here we go."
"Susan, you trusted me with your career, your future, and I've destroyed it. Johnny, you should be worried about college and dating, not learning to control powers that could torch city blocks. And Ben—" Reed's voice broke, looking at the ring box. "I've taken everything from you. Your life, your career, your future."
BONK.
Reed's head snapped forward from Ben's backhand, then kept going. His neck stretched like taffy, face elongating into a cartoon caricature before snapping back with a rubber-band sound.
Everyone stared.
"Did my head just—?" Reed touched his neck.
"Stretch like Silly Putty? Yeah." Ben cracked his knuckles. "Had to get yer attention. Ya done with the guilt parade?"
Reed blinked rapidly. "That was actually fascinating from a physiological standpoint—"
"Reed," Susan said sharply.
"Right. Sorry." He focused on Ben. "You hit me."
"Damn right. And I'll do it again if ya keep talkin' like we're victims." Ben stood up, and the armchair groaned with relief. "Ya wanna know what I think? I think ya been watchin' too much news instead of listenin' to people who actually know ya."
"Ben—"
"Nah, shut up. My turn." Ben crossed his arms. "I heard yer talk with that Jay guy. Nice fella, even if he sounds like a textbook. He was right—this guilt trip's gettin' old."
Johnny leaned forward. "Oh, this is good. Ben's going full Brooklyn philosopher."
"Stuff it, hotshot." Ben kept his eyes on Reed. "What happened up there—that was our decision. All of us. Ya told us the risks, showed us the math, gave us every reason to walk away. And we didn't. Ya know why?"
Reed opened his mouth, but Ben held up a warning finger.
"'Cause we believed in ya. Still do, even if yer too busy feelin' sorry for yerself to notice. Ya think this is about cosmic rays? It ain't. It's about four people who trusted each other enough to reach for somethin' bigger. Yeah, it went sideways. But we're still here, still breathin' and now we are savin' people."
"But your fiancée—" Reed started.
"—deserves better than a guy too scared to see himself in the mirror," Ben finished. "Maybe if Mr. Fantastic lives up to his name, he'll figure out how to give her that choice. But wallowin' ain't gonna solve nothin'."
The room fell silent. Reed stared at Ben, then at Susan and Johnny, something shifting in his expression.
"Mr. Fantastic," he said finally. "You know, I still think that name's ridiculous."
"Yeah, well, ya might wanna workshop it," Ben shrugged. "But the point stands. Ya got a brain the size of Manhattan and the heart to match. Time to start usin' both."
Susan smiled—the first genuine one all day. "He's right, Reed. We're not your victims. We're your family."
"Speak for yourself," Johnny said, grinning. "I'm just here for the fame and groupies. Do superheroes get groupies? That would really help my dating situation."
"You know dating situation usually requires actually talking to people instead of making everything about yourself," Susan said with exaggerated patience.
"Hey! I talked to that reporter earlier. Very charming."
"You mean when you literally flew away mid-question?"
"Strategic retreat. Completely different."
Ben snorted. "Kid's got a point though. We gotta figure out how to handle all this attention." He looked at Reed meaningfully. "Startin' with stoppin' the guilt trips."
Reed was quiet, looking at each of them. When he finally spoke, his voice was steadier. "You're right. All of you. I've been so focused on what we lost that I forgot what we might accomplish."
"Now yer talkin'," Ben said.
"Though I still think 'Mr. Fantastic' sounds like a children's entertainer."
"Better than 'Stretchy McStretchface,'" Johnny offered.
"What about 'The Elastic Avenger'?" Susan suggested, then looked horrified. "Oh God, I can't believe I said that."
"See? Even Suzie's gettin' into it." Ben settled back into his protesting chair. "Though I vote we stick with classics. Fantastic Four's got a ring to it."
Reed laughed—actually laughed—for the first time since their transformation. It sounded rusty but genuine. "You know what? You're right. It sounds like us. Changed, but us."
"'Course I'm right. I'm from Brooklyn."
"That's not how geography works."
"Says the guy who miscalculated cosmic ray exposure."
"Hey!"
Johnny grinned, reaching for the remote. "You know what? I think we're gonna be okay. Weird, stretchy, rocky, invisible, and flammable... but okay."
He turned up the volume just in time to catch: "—unprecedented heroism has left the city asking: who are the Fantastic Four, and what does their emergence mean?"
"The Fantastic Four," Susan repeated. "I guess it's official."
"Better than 'Those Weird People Who Saved Everyone,'" Johnny pointed out.
Reed looked around at his family and felt something he hadn't in days; hope.
Reed smiled, and this time it reached his eyes.
Ben saw this and said. "Now yer gettin' it. Though next time ya start spiraling, I'm aimin' higher. Maybe see if that stretchy head can touch the ceiling."
"Please don't."
"No promises."
