Every great hero story begins with an origin.
This story isn't going to be different.
(Reginald Vel Johnson High School)
The sun hung lazily over the schoolyard as students scattered across the cracked concrete, chatting, laughing, shoving each other, and pretending they weren't counting down the minutes until the bell rang.
In the middle of it all, sitting alone at a bench near the edge of the field, was Johnny Storm.
Everyone knew him. Not because he was popular or athletic—quite the opposite. Johnny was that kid: overweight, quiet, and always with his nose buried in a comic book. The kind of kid people forgot existed until they needed someone to make fun of.
Right now, he was flipping through the latest issue of Science Dog, his favorite hero of all time.
Oh, Science Dog… you're so cool, he thought, eyes wide as the canine hero punched through an alien battleship.
For Johnny, reading comics during recess wasn't just a habit—it was a ritual. The one place where the world made sense. Where the good guys mattered, where every loser had a chance to be something more.
He knew how to talk to people; he just didn't see the point. Every time he tried, he ended up being the punchline. It wasn't that he liked being alone. In fact, he hated it. But it was safer than pretending he fit in.
Sometimes, while staring at the couples holding hands near the bleachers, he'd imagine what it'd be like to have someone who actually cared. Someone who'd look at him and see him. A girlfriend, maybe—kind, funny, a little geeky like him.
And yeah, if she had a nice ass, that wouldn't hurt either. Johnny was still a guy, after all.
But even that wish came second to the one that burned deeper inside him.
Johnny wanted to be a hero.
Not for fame. Not for glory. He wanted to matter. He wanted to protect the people no one else cared about—the bullied, the broken, the forgotten. People like him.
Because Johnny Storm was an orphan.
His parents had died when he was nine—car accident, rainy night, the usual tragic cliché. Since then, he'd lived off his inheritance and a modest government check that barely kept him afloat. No relatives. No friends. Just him, his comics, and the quiet hum of a TV in an empty apartment.
He hated it.
He hated being ignored.
He hated his reflection in the mirror.
He hated that every morning felt exactly the same as the one before.
If only he could change it. If only he could be special.
But life, as usual, had other plans.
"Move it, nerd."
The voice snapped him out of his daydream. Before Johnny could react, a tall, broad-shouldered student slammed into him, knocking his comic out of his hands. The pages fluttered onto the dirty pavement.
It was Todd.
Of course it was Todd. The guy looked like every generic bully ever drawn in a comic—muscles, a smug grin, and a permanent need to prove he was better than everyone else.
Johnny bent down quickly, trying to pick up his comic before the wind carried the pages away. His hands shook a little, half from anger, half from embarrassment.
Todd didn't even stop. He just walked off laughing, fist-bumping one of his buddies like he'd just scored a touchdown.
Johnny pressed the comic to his chest for a second, taking a shaky breath. His heart pounded. His throat felt tight. He wanted to shout, to punch Todd right in the face, to do something.
But he didn't. He just muttered under his breath, his voice low and bitter:
"Asshole."
He glanced down at Science Dog's determined face on the cover, dirt smudged across the corner.
"Wish I could be like you," he whispered.
The bell rang. The students moved back inside, a wave of motion that ignored him completely.
Johnny stood up slowly, brushing the dust from his comic and his jeans and went towards the place where he would have his class.
---
The bell's shrill ring cut through the afternoon haze, dragging everyone back into the building. Johnny followed behind the crowd, clutching his comic like it was a lifeline.
Inside Room 214, the walls were lined with faded science posters—atoms, formulas, and a motivational quote about curiosity that no one ever read. The faint smell of marker ink and teenage sweat hung in the air.
Mr. Collins, their science teacher, was scribbling something on the whiteboard when the class settled. He was in his mid-forties, balding, with a coffee stain permanently etched on his shirt pocket. The kind of teacher who wasn't bad, but wasn't great either—just another adult doing his best to survive the school year.
"Alright, everyone," he said, raising his voice over the chatter. "Before we start today's topic, a quick reminder: tomorrow's the big field trip to Oscorp Labs. You'll need your signed permission slips if you want to go. No slip, no trip."
A collective groan rippled through the class.
"Yeah, because a science lab is so fun," Todd muttered, earning a few laughs from his group.
Mr. Collins gave him a look. "It's one of the top research facilities in the country, Todd. Try to contain your excitement."
Johnny stayed quiet in the back row, flipping through his folder. His permission slip was already filled out—his own signature scribbled at the bottom. He hadn't wanted to draw attention to himself, but he wasn't going to skip a chance to see real science up close. Maybe, just maybe, it'd make him feel like part of something bigger.
When the bell finally rang again, the students poured out of the room, voices bouncing down the hallway. Johnny waited until everyone else was gone before walking up to Mr. Collins's desk.
"Uh… Mr. Collins?" Johnny said softly, holding out the paper. "Here's my permission slip for tomorrow."
The teacher looked up from his pile of papers, adjusting his glasses. "Thanks, Johnny." He reached for it, then frowned slightly. "Wait a minute. This has your signature."
"Yeah," Johnny said simply.
Mr. Collins hesitated. "Johnny… you know it has to be signed by a parent or guardian, right?"
Johnny didn't flinch. He'd had this conversation a dozen times before. "I don't have one."
"Oh." The teacher froze, awkwardness settling in the air like dust. He looked down at the permission slip again, then back at Johnny. "Right. Right, I… forgot about that."
He cleared his throat, trying to sound casual. "Sorry about that, son. It's fine. You're good to go."
Johnny nodded once. "Thanks."
As he turned to leave, Mr. Collins called after him, "Hey, Johnny?"
He looked back.
"Good initiative," the teacher said with a small, uncertain smile. "I'm glad you're coming along."
Johnny didn't respond. He just gave a polite nod and walked out. He could tell Mr. Collins felt bad—but pity never made him feel better. If anything, it made the silence heavier.
(Later that evening…)
Johnny's house wasn't much—a small, aging two-bedroom home left to him by his parents. It sat near the edge of the city, surrounded by tall weeds and the occasional barking dog from a neighboring yard.
Inside, the place was neat but empty. The TV murmured softly in the background, replaying highlights from the Guardians of the Globe news coverage. Another attack from the Mauler Twins stopped. Another day saved. The usual.
Johnny sat cross-legged on the living room floor, a cold slice of pizza beside him and his Science Dog comic spread out again. His backpack lay open next to him, tomorrow's permission slip folded neatly inside.
He sighed, watching Science Dog punch a meteor into dust with one paw.
"I wish I could do something like that," he said quietly to no one.
The TV continued droning, the announcer talking about Omni-Man's latest heroic act.
Johnny stared at the screen for a long moment. Omni-Man's confident smile, his perfect physique, the way the crowd cheered his name—it was everything Johnny wasn't. Everything he wanted to be.
But deep down, under the jealousy and the daydreaming, something else stirred. A faint, stubborn spark.
One day, he thought. One day, I'll matter too.
The clock ticked softly in the background. Tomorrow would be just another day for most kids at Reginald Vel Johnson High.
But for Johnny Storm—
Tomorrow would be the beginning of everything.
(The next day…)
The bus rumbled down the street, its tired engine groaning under the weight of too many students and too little maintenance. The morning sun spilled through the windows in sharp golden streaks, painting half-asleep faces and crumpled notebooks in warm light.
Johnny Storm sat near the back, where no one ever bothered to sit unless the bus was packed. He had his backpack tucked between his feet and a comic book open on his lap — Science Dog #137, one of his favorites.
It was easier to lose himself in the story than listen to the chaos around him. The laughter, the gossip, the shouts — all of it blurred into meaningless noise when he was reading.
In the comic, Science Dog was saving a group of colonists from a collapsing space station, holding up a chunk of metal ten times his size with one arm. Johnny smiled faintly.
You never miss a beat, do you, boy?
He turned the page—
—and was suddenly hit square in the face by a football.
"Ugh—!" Johnny flinched, the comic slipping from his hands and landing on the dirty floor. The ball bounced off his chest and rolled under the seat across from him.
For a second, he just sat there, stunned. Then he heard laughter. Loud, unmistakable laughter.
"Nice catch, Storm!"
Johnny didn't even have to look to know who it was.
He picked up his comic, brushing the dust from the cover, and let out a humorless chuckle. "Very funny, Todd," he muttered, glaring up from his seat.
Todd leaned over the backrest a few rows ahead, grinning like he'd just scored a touchdown at the Super Bowl. "C'mon, man! Don't look so mad! I was just passing it to you!"
"Yeah, with my face," Johnny said under his breath.
Todd pretended not to hear him, reaching down to grab the ball again. "Let's see if you can actually catch this time—"
Before he could throw, a voice cut through the noise.
"Knock it off, Todd."
Every head nearby turned.
Standing in the aisle was her — Samantha Eve Wilkins.
Her red hair caught the sunlight from the window, glowing almost golden at the edges. She wore a pink hoodie and jeans, casual but effortlessly cool, like she didn't even have to try. Her expression wasn't angry, just disappointed — which somehow hit harder than if she'd yelled.
Todd blinked. "What? I was just joking around."
"Yeah, well, maybe he's not laughing." Her tone was calm, but firm. The kind of voice people listened to.
Todd rolled his eyes and slumped back in his seat. "Whatever."
Satisfied, Eve turned toward Johnny, her expression softening. "You okay?"
Johnny's brain short-circuited for a second. Was Samantha Wilkins talking to him?
He nodded quickly, trying to play it cool. "Uh—yeah. Happens all the time."
She smiled, and it was the kind of smile that made everything else fade for a moment. "Still. Sorry you had to deal with that. Todd's kind of… Todd."
Johnny gave a tiny laugh. "Yeah, I noticed."
The bus jolted as it hit a pothole, and Eve grabbed the nearest seat to steady herself — the one right across from him.
"Name's Eve, mind if I sit here? My usual spot's taken," she asked.
Johnny blinked. "I'm Jonathan, but you can call me Johnny, and oh, uh—yeah! I mean—no, not at all. Go ahead."
She sat down, pulling out her phone, scrolling absently. The smell of her shampoo — something floral, faintly sweet — drifted over. Johnny pretended to go back to reading, but his eyes kept flicking up every few seconds.
Holy crap, he thought, trying not to smile. Samantha Wilkins is sitting across from me.
She was one of those people everyone liked. Smart, kind, always standing up for others. She wasn't loud or fake like some of the others in school — she was just… genuine.
And of course, Johnny had no idea she was Atom Eve, one of the most powerful young superheroes on the planet. To him, she was just a girl way out of his league who had, for some reason, decided to defend him today.
The bus rolled on toward the city, Oscorp Labs glinting in the distance like a tower of steel and glass.
Johnny glanced at his reflection in the window — his round face, his messy hair, and the faint mark on his cheek where the football hit him. He looked ridiculous.
But for once, he didn't feel invisible.
He looked back down at his comic, hiding a small, involuntary smile.
Maybe today wasn't going to be so bad after all.
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