25 - The Fantastic Four, the Four Fiends!

Candy.

Acceptance.

Indulgence.

Conclusion.

These were the steps of possession. And every universe had a shared name for it.

The whisper of the devil.

The temptation of the demon.

No one could resist power—or rather, no mortal could.

The next day.

The Brooklyn Bridge incident happened.

"A ladder truck from the New York Fire Department became a tragedy, but today's focus isn't on the rescue."

"One of the four stretched his body to an astonishing length."

"Another turned invisible and stopped a towering blaze in an incomprehensible way."

"One, with a body like a mountain, tore a truck apart as easily as ripping paper."

"And one became a man of fire."

"The Fantastic Four—that's what the cheering crowd called them."

"..."

Lake and Michaela watched the reporter's broadcast from the Brooklyn Bridge on TV. When the term "Fantastic Four" came up, Michaela spoke, "What's this nonsense? If that rock guy hadn't gone up on the bridge, would any of this have happened?"

Lake looked at her, and she added, "What? Am I wrong?"

Lake shook his head with a smile, a hint of approval in his expression, "No, I'm just glad you're getting closer to thinking like a god."

Michaela was right.

The tragedy on the Brooklyn Bridge today could've been avoided from the start. If the rock guy hadn't shown up, none of it would've happened.

But look at it now.

A bunch of mortals were hailing the original culprits as superheroes. Why? Just because they saved lives—without considering that if they'd never been on the bridge, there'd be nothing to save.

Lake snorted, "Zac, Malphite, Evelynn, Brand—they're all here now. This plot's getting weirder by the minute."

Zac, the Secret Weapon, now Reed Richards.

Malphite, the Shard of the Monolith, now Ben Grimm.

Evelynn, the Widowmaker, now Susan Storm.

Brand, the Burning Vengeance, now Johnny Storm.

The Fantastic Four?

Heh.

How about the Parasitic Four Fiends instead?

Soon enough.

The TV screen showed these four newly minted superheroes. As Zac's host—and future claimant to the title of Earth's smartest man—Reed Richards took deep breaths under the barrage of reporters' cameras, "...In our recent mission at Victor's space station, we were exposed to an as-yet-unidentified form of radiant energy."

"What happened on the bridge?"

"Can you really fly?"

"Can you control fire?"

The reporters weren't interested in jargon-heavy answers. They fired off questions they—and their viewers—actually cared about.

Johnny, the fireman, was loving the attention.

Click!

Michaela glanced at the now-dark TV screen as Lake turned it off, "You're not watching anymore?"

Lake shook his head, "I've got what I needed."

Michaela raised an eyebrow, "So, what's your plan?"

Lake tilted his head, "What do you mean?"

Michaela shrugged, "You said those four are here to mess with you. Aren't you going to figure out how to take them out?"

Lake chuckled, "Not yet."

Michaela frowned slightly.

Lake stood and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, instructing Agatha to pull up the live scene unfolding at the Brooklyn Bridge.

The bridge was a madhouse—NYPD officers, reporters, firefighters, and the Parasitic Four Fiends all gathered in a chaotic celebration.

Lake pointed at the crowd on the screen, "Michaela, you can see the truth, but these people? Four culprits who caused this disaster somehow turned into heroes. It's ironic—like painting terrorists as superheroes. Laughable."

Michaela blinked, "So..."

Lake turned with a smile, "New York needs to know the truth. Not just anyone can be called a hero."

Michaela blinked again.

Lake sneered inwardly. What were these four losers here for? Cannon fodder in Valoran, cannon fodder here—did they think a change of scenery would rewrite their fate?

Ridiculous.

Lake had no personal beef with the so-called Fantastic Four. Too bad they were the Parasitic Four Fiends.

"Since you're all possessed, fine—I'll speed up the possession process, then kill you again."

With that thought, Lake watched the Four Fiends chatting away on the bridge, smirking as he downed his bourbon in one gulp.

Three days later.

The Fantastic Four's fame—and the buzz around them—had only grown. Reed Richards' apartment building was swarmed by newfound fans.

People cheered.

People leaped with joy.

People...

In a world just emerging from an economic crisis, when folks craved a hero, who knew God would be so generous as to drop four superheroes on them?

But...

What they didn't know was the steep cost behind their adored quartet.

The Brooklyn Bridge was damaged—repair costs estimated at five million dollars.

Three deaths on the bridge—three men in their prime, including a soldier fresh from defending the nation in Iraq. In other words, the cost to three families was at least two million.

Not to mention Victor Industries, whose stock tanked after the space station fiasco.

At the apartment building's entrance.

Reed Richards, suppressing a giddy heart, stepped out of a police car with Susan—his ex-girlfriend who'd spent three days with him in custody.

Instantly.

The fans surrounding the building erupted in massive cheers.

Johnny, sporting sunglasses, soaked up the spotlight.

Ben, in a black cap, his hulking frame like a small mountain, kept his head down.

A female reporter snapped her heel in the crowd, pushed through, and thrust her mic forward, "Dr. Richards..."

Reed raised an apologetic hand, "Sorry, no interviews right now."

The reporter ignored his retreat, shouting after him, "Dr. Richards, what's your take on the New York City prosecutor preparing to sue you?"

Reed froze.

Susan's expression shifted.

Johnny's grin faded behind his shades.

Ben, the rock man, tuned it out.

As Reed turned to ask for clarification, a staffer from the local prosecutor's office emerged from the crowd, handed him a subpoena, and walked off without a word.