The Fantastic Four #7

[fan4]

Fantastic Four, Issue 7
Thing About Town

Written and edited by Aaron Martel

Ryker’s Island Penitentiary, 11:45 PM

Alarms screamed out as the prison guards opened fire on the figure running across the courtyard, searchlights following his progress. The figure reached the huge concrete wall and looked up at the razor wire lining the top as bullets whizzed all around him, a few striking his body and passing right through him, ejecting particles of sand from the exit wounds. The figure looked to the ground at the base of the wall and appeared to melt down into the earth, his entire body becoming grains of sand that passed under the prison wall and reforming back into human shape on the other side. The figure continued running as the prison gates opened and four police cruisers raced through in pursuit. The runner looked over his shoulder-

And he disappeared in a bright flash of light.

[fan4]

The next morning

The pleasant aroma of scrambled eggs and bacon filled the kitchen area of the living quarters in the Baxter Building, where three members of the Fantastic Four were getting ready to have breakfast. Sue Storm, the Invisible Woman, was wearing an apron and scraping some eggs off a frying pan and onto a plate to pass to her brother, Johnny Storm, also known as the Human Torch. A box-shaped metallic robot hovered in the air next to Sue, clearly confused as to what was happening.

“Madam,” the robot spoke in an electronic monotone, “I don’t understand why you won’t allow me to make breakfast.”

“I wanted to do it myself, Herbie,” Sue responded. “It’s been a while since I cooked for everyone, so relax and take a break.”

“A break?” Herbie said, puzzled. “May I pass the plates to Masters Storm and Richards, then?”

Sue sighed. “Yes, Herbie, that would be very helpful.”

The robot extended its mechanical arms and picked up the two plates Sue had prepared and flew them over to Johnny and Reed Richards, the elastic hero called Mr. Fantastic and leader of the FF. Sue made her own plate and carried it to the table, setting it down and heading again for the kitchen-

“Madam, may I fetch the orange juice for you?” Herbie asked.

Sue shook her head and smiled. “Yes, Herbie, that’s just what I was about to do.”

“Thank you, madam,” Herbie blurbed, and he flew on his hoverjets to the refrigerator.

Sue turned to her fiancé Reed, who was reading the newspaper and hadn’t touched his food or coffee yet. “Reed, do you think you could tone Herbie down a bit?”

“Hmmm?” Reed murmured, not looking up from the paper.

“He’s so helpful, he’s become annoying,” Sue complained. “Plus, he calls me ‘madam’ and I hate that.”

“Sure, darling,” Reed said distractedly. “Whatever you say.”

“Reed!” Sue snapped.

Reed fumbled with the paper, causing it to come apart and fling into the air as Johnny, laughing, spit out a mouthful of eggs. “Huh? What?” Reed stammered.

“Your breakfast is getting cold,” Sue pouted.

“Sorry, dear. Mmmm, smells good,” Reed said as he took a bite of bacon.

“Hey, where’s the rockpile?” Johnny quipped as Herbie filled his glass with orange juice.

“Right here, junior.” Ben Grimm, the Thing, sauntered into the room. He was wearing khaki slacks and a lime green polo shirt with matching cap, custom made for his extremely large size, and a form-fitting pair of shoes as well.

Johnny burst out laughing. “Are you kidding me?” he guffawed. “You look like a gargoyle about to go golfing.”

Ben tried to act nonchalant. “Toldja I got some new duds. Yer just jealous, Matchstick.”

“You’re going out in public looking like that?” Johnny cracked.

“Johnny, stop it,” Sue admonished. “Ben, you look good. Want some breakfast? I saved some eggs and bacon for you.”

“Nah, Susie,” Ben retorted. “Think I’m gonna take a little stroll about town.”

“That’s a good idea, Ben,” Reed stated. “Get some fresh air, get a good cardiovascular workout-“

“And the places of interest,” Sue cut in. “There’s so many cultural places to take in around here-“

“Yeah, Rockhead, go get cultured!” Johnny cackled.

“Would you like a tall glass of orange juice?” Herbie suggested, flying over to Ben.

“Nah.” Ben waved the robot servant off. “I’m outta here.”

[fan4]

Twenty minutes later

As the Thing walked the streets, most people gave him a wide berth, staring at him in either fright or baffled curiosity. Ben tried to ignore the looks, but the constant negative reactions he was receiving were slowly wearing down his pleasant resolve. After about an hour of this he decided he was hungry, so he stopped at a small local diner and took a seat at the counter.

The waitress approached Ben and did a startled double-take when she more closely looked at him. “What’ll you have…uh, uh, sir?”

Ben gazed forlornly about the diner, as most everyone had stopped eating and gawked at the odd-looking freak in their midst.

“Ah, howzabout some scrambled eggs and bacon, with a glass a’ o.j.,” Ben mumbled, wishing he had eaten what Sue had prepared for breakfast.

As the waitress gave the order to the cook, an elderly gentleman shuffled into the diner and waved to the patrons, most of whom waved back to him. The old man came up to the counter and plopped into the seat next to Ben’s. He took out his spectacles and put them on the bridge of his nose, and he turned to face Ben.

“Beautiful day, isn’t it…what the hell?” The old man squinted his eyes to view Ben better.

“Not too bad, pal,” Ben muttered, while he considered leaving the diner altogether.

“What the doggone ding-dang heck are you supposed to be?” asked the man.

“I’m the Thing,” Ben said sourly.

“You’re the Thing?”

“Yeah,” Ben replied.

The waitress brought Ben his meal while asking the old man, “The usual, Earl?”, to which the old man nodded his assent. Ben began to hurriedly shovel in his eggs, spilling them all over his new shirt. The old man, gazing intently at Ben, suddenly brightened.

“I know you! You was on the T.V. fightin’ that giant lizard!” he exclaimed.

“Yep,” Ben said through a mouthful of bacon, “That’s me.”

“Well, if I ain’t sittin’ next to a gosh-darn hero!” Earl crowed, delighted. “You got some muscles under all that, don’tcha?”

Ben chuckled in spite of himself. “Yeah, I guess I do.”

“Well, then, can I shake the hand of a true New Yawk hero?” Earl extended his withered hand, and Ben completely engulfed it with his enormous, rock-scaled digits.

“Whoa, some grip there!” said Earl. Then he looked Ben straight in the eye. “You do a lotta good, fella, and don’t you forget that, no matter what other people say.”

Ben smiled genuinely for the first time that day. “Thanks, old man.” Then he looked at the waitress, who had just brought a cheese danish and a cup of coffee for the old man. “I got this,” Ben said, jerking his head toward Earl and putting a twenty-dollar bill on the counter.

Ben got up to leave the diner, which by that point had returned to its normal activity, when he heard the old man call out, “Hey, Thing! You should stay outta the sun! Your skin’s lookin’ a little orange!”

“Will do,” Ben chortled, and went out the door.

[fan4]

Ten minutes later

Reed Richards was in his lab, adjusting the controls on a new machine he had just invented, stretching his neck every now and then to check his notes on the project. The television was tuned to the news on low volume nearby, in case something occurred that required the immediate attention of the Fantastic Four. He was in the middle of a delicate procedure when he heard:

“This news just in! A bus has collided with a station wagon in midtown Manhattan, causing major damage and stopping traffic in all directions! But wait! It appears Ben Grimm of the Fantastic Four is on the scene! We’re going live now with Madge Hardcourt, who is on the scene!”

Reed forgot about his work and stretched himself over to the T.V., where there was an image of Ben hoisting the entire bus over his head and moving it away from the crushed station wagon. Reed resisted an impulse to summon his teammates and rush to the accident, preferring instead to see how well Ben would handle the situation.

“…Moved the bus out of danger and is now heading toward the car, which appears to be severely damaged,” the on-scene reporter was saying. “I believe the jaws of life have been called for, and- no, wait! It seems that the Thing is now ripping the roof off of the car, reaching in and pulling out the passengers to pass to the waiting EMTs! What an incredible display of heroism, courtesy of the Thing, one of New York’s own Fantastic Four!”

Way to go, Ben, Reed thought.

[fan4]

Two hours later

Ben resumed his amble around midtown, his new clothes now filthy and torn and his cap completely missing. He was still receiving confused and frightened looks from most of the populace, but now that his cap was off he was also being recognized, and he was hearing more compliments and whoops of encouragement. Ben even allowed himself a smile as he came across the Metropolitan Museum of Art, and then he stopped in his tracks.

“Guess I’ll get myself some culture,” he said to himself, and plodded toward the museum.

[fan4]

Two hours later

Ben had wandered swiftly through a great deal of the museum proper, paying as much attention to the patrons’ shocked expressions toward him as he did to the art exhibits on display. As good as he felt when he rescued the trapped passengers in the car wreck earlier, he felt just as badly now, since the museum patrons seemed actively repulsed by his presence. He had begun to enter the modern art gallery when he heard an excited voice shout out.

“Mommy, look!”

Ben turned to see a young boy looking at him, with curious eyes rapidly opening wide as Ben moved to approach him. The boy leaped into his startled mother’s arms, screaming, ”It’s a monster! Get away from the monster, Mommy!”

The mother shot Ben a disapproving look as she scurried away with her son, leaving Ben to whisper dejectedly, “Sure, I’m a monster.”

[fan4]

Fifteen minutes later

Ben gloomily puttered through the modern art exhibits when he came across a group of sculptures that caught his eye. They were mostly of human figures captured in heroic poses, and Ben admired the uncanny realism depicted in the figures’ faces. He was certainly no art critic, but he thought that the sculptures displayed a timeless beauty that actually didn’t belong with modern art; he likened them to sculptures from ancient Greece. A smile came to Ben’s face as he thought of a time when he could have perhaps been a model for sculptures such as these. Before spaceships and cosmic rays. Before the Thing.

Ben’s feet ached after all the walking he had done, so he decided to sit on one of the benches that kept the sculpture exhibit in full view. He stretched out his legs, ignoring the groaning protests of the bench, and tried to remember-

“Do you like those?” a soft voice came from behind him.

Ben turned his head to see a slim young woman coming towards him, with long strawberry blonde hair and dark glasses covering her eyes. She wore a simple blouse and slacks and she was smiling; that smile made her beautiful face seem positively angelic in Ben’s estimation. She carried a cane, and was poking it out in front of her as she walked, but she moved in a graceful, fluid manner that suggested no lack of confidence.

Blind, Ben thought, she’s blind.

The woman reached the bench where Ben was sitting and said, “Can’t talk?”

“Huh?” Ben flubbed.

“I asked if you like those,” the woman said, indicating the sculpture exhibit with her chin.

“Oh, uh-“ Ben fumbled, “Yeah. Yeah, I like ‘em a lot.”

She cocked an ear toward him. “You have an interesting sound to your voice.”

Ben guffawed. “Yeah. Ya don’t know the half of it.”

“Can I sit next to you?” the woman asked.

“What?”

“Can I sit next to you, or do you have a problem with me?”

Ben was flabbergasted. “Wha-? No! I mean- yeah, yeah, have a seat.”

The woman found her way easily to the bench and sat next to Ben, who scuttled away from her as though he were a leper and would infect her if he touched her.

“My name’s Alicia,” the woman said, settling into her seat.

“I’m Ben.”

“Ben…” Alicia drawled, and Ben watched the word roll off her lips as he stared at her. “Nice name. Strong name.”

“Well, I am pretty strong,” Ben stated.

“I’ll bet you are,” Alicia said, smiling again. “So tell me, Ben, what do you like about those sculptures?”

Ben thought a moment. “Well, they seem so real ta me, like they could geddup and walk away. If ya could see them you’d-“ Ben covered his mouth with his hand. “Ohmigawd, I’m sorry-“

She laughed then, a soft, melodious noise that sent chills down Ben’s spine. “It’s okay, Ben. I’m not offended. And I can’t see them, at least not with my eyes.”

“Huh? Whuddaya mean?”

“I see with these.” Alicia held up her hands. “You’d be amazed how well I can see with them.”

Ben hung on her every word; he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “Uh huh. So- ah- ya come here often?”

“Almost every day,” Alicia answered. “Do you come here often, too?”

“Oh, yeah,” Ben sputtered. “All a’ time. Regular patron o’ the arts, that’s me.”

“Good,” Alicia said earnestly, “Maybe I’ll see you more-“

Abruptly, an alarm sounded, shocking the two from their conversation. A museum security guard ran through the rope barrier toward a painting in another section of the modern art gallery, ripping it off the wall and running right in the direction of Alicia and Ben, clearly intending to steal the painting. The guard didn’t even notice the two sitting on the bench, and the weight of the painting in its frame slowed him down considerably.

“Aw, nuts,” Ben complained.

Alicia was frightened. “Ben, what is it-“

“Hold on, I’ll be right back.” Ben sprang up from the bench and clotheslined the security guard with his massive, rocky arm, knocking the guard to the floor and sending the painting crashing down as well.

Alicia was nearly frantic, sensing the bustle all around her and rattled by the piercing alarm. “Ben! Is everything all right-“

“No problem, ‘Licia. “ Ben tried to soothe her as best he could as he picked up the painting, which was lying next to the unconscious security guard. “I got this. I’ll be right back.”

Ben clomped past the stupefied onlookers with the painting in his thick hands, returning to the wall where it was originally displayed. He carefully began to try hanging the work of art back up when he heard the sound of pistols being cocked and a harsh voice commanding, “FREEZE!”

Ben turned slowly to see several other security guards surrounding him, their weapons drawn and trained on him.

“Aw, what a revoltin’ development this is,” Ben blurted.

To be continued