SUPER CHANNEL NETWORK NEWSFEED

SEVERAL MONTHS AGO

"Greetings and welcome to the FANFARE everybody! I'm Trisha Thornson."

"And I'm Craig Winters. Welcome to Marvel Fanfare -- your nightly guide to the doings of the superheroes and supervillains that make our world interesting. Tonight we've got a feature on the new Liberty Legion and a look at superhero-themed restaurants. But first, Trish, I think our top story tonight deals with the increasing number of vigilantes in our society..."

"Yes indeed, Craig. Heroes like Spider-Man and Daredevil are nothing new of course, but in recent years the likes of the Punisher, Ghost Rider, Cable, and the Force Works group -- whose recent actions in Slorenia are still fresh on everyone's minds -- have come to be heralded as heroes by many -- despite their sometimes extreme measures. Even more troubling are the increasing numbers of mercenary heroes -- those for whom altruism isn't enough. The Heroes for Hire group have spearheaded such a movement and many are concerned that this is the start of a terrible trend -- the next time Galactus comes calling, what is the world to do if the Fantastic Four responds "Well, we'd love to help -- but the city of New York still owes us $1 million for stopping Terrax last week...Are the true heroes a dying breed? Reporter Clive Stinson has more..."

JIM HAMMOND'S PENTHOUSE

(*Continuity Note -- this scene takes place immediately following Power Man and Iron Fist # 128!)

"It's a farce, Namor. Nothing but. I can't believe I was resurrected just to allow myself to become a mercenary." Jim Hammond stroked the cat in his lap absentmindedly, staring out the window of Oracle Inc. headquarters. His face was creased in a frown. He still wore a thick beard, which normally would have drawn a smile on the Sub-Mariner's face. An android with a beard, indeed...

Namor stood nearby, tall and regal. "You are acting insanely, Hammond. You shouldn't pay any attention to what that SCN reports...the media are like vultures, feeding on the weak. Heroes for Hire has done much good -- and the fees they accept are funneled back into fighting more crime. No matter who runs Oracle now, we accomplished much."

Hammond watched as the cat leapt from his lap. He reached up and stroked his beard. "I know that. But they raised some very valid points. It was made even clearer to me during the siege on Oracle* -- most of those heroes out there, the Defenders and the New Warriors just to name two -- didn't accept any money for what they did, they --"

(*See "Double Quest" in Defenders # 172-175.)

"Neither did the Heroes for Hire. That wasn't a paid job, Hammond."

"-- did it because it was right. When the West Coast Avengers revived me, I found myself in a strange time and place, Namor. I joined their group but I didn't feel that I fit in -- when you offered me this position I accepted because I wanted to stop living in the 1940s and move on. But I'm not comfortable with this -- this mercenary thing is a failure, in my opinion. Heck, we couldn't even keep a team together for more than five minutes! Ant Man, the Black Knight...they all left almost immediately. They're good people, but I think they were uncomfortable being hired guns, Namor. I was uncomfortable being a hired gun..."

Prince Namor narrowed his eyes. "I assume this is going somewhere -- I don't have time to listen to an android's self-loathing. We've known each for too long, Hammond. What are you driving at?"

Hammond smiled. "Now that I'm fired from Oracle, I want to start something new."

Namor nodded. "Good for you. I wish you much success." The Atlantean turned to leave.

"There's more."

Namor couldn't resist a smile of his own. He and the Torch had been allies for so very long...they had been enemies at first, then grudging teammates, and finally friends. "For some reason, Hammond, I knew there was. Go on."

"I want my powers back."

THE PRESENT

The building was dark, as he liked it. The man known as Cinder moved stealthily, like a cat, through the empty corridors, his eyes glowing a soft yellow. He was tall and thin, almost to the point of emaciation. But his hair was well-kept and his skin was smooth, giving him the appearance of a sickly Royal -- a crown prince who must be protected and cared for.

Cinder stopped outside the door to his office and listened. He could hear breathing inside and he tensed. He concentrated and his right hand ignited into flame. The fire danced across his flesh and Cinder smiled. His voice sounded cold and hard. "Come out, come out, whoever you are. You don't want me to come after you..."

The door swung open, revealing only more darkness. Cinder narrowed his glowing eyes. "Games, games. How annoying can you get?" He stepped inside, the flames now engulfing the upper half of his body. The sight was terrifying to behold, striking a primeval chord in humanity -- the burning man was a potent image.

Inside he could see movement and he whirled to face it, his flaming hands extended. "Who are you and what do you want?"

The figure came to into view, floating towards him. It wore a long coat and a hat, but there was no figure within. It was quite literally a ghostly apparition, with gloves that seemed to float in front of it where the hands would be on a man, though there were no arms attached. Nor legs, as Cinder noted with interest. Instead the coat, which was puffed out as if a man was underneath, moved closer. "I am pleased to make your acquaintance, Cinder. Your powers strike me as most peculiar -- are you related, perchance to one of the Torches?"

Cinder chuckled. "No. My powers are quite natural. I'm not an android or a victim of cosmic radiation. I'm just a genetic freak, gifted with flame powers and heightened senses." Cinder's smile turned sardonic. "What's your excuse?"

"I am dead, Mr. Cinder. That is excuse enough for my current appearance. But I have risen from the grave seeking vengeance...and monetary reward as well."

Cinder's body continued to burn. "What good is money to a dead man?"

The wraith raised a glove and motioned for silence. "Enough questions, my friend. All will be answered in good time. Suffice to say that you will be well rewarded if you join my organization...Your reputation as an assassin for hire has been growing by leaps and bounds of late. I'd like to offer you a position with Killers Incorporated."

Cinder's flames flickered and died. His yellow eyes glowed with greater interest. He'd heard of Killers Incorporated, though they had only appeared on the underworld scene about a year ago. They offered metahuman killers -- for a price. "Killers Inc., huh? I'm interested."

The hat seemed to nod. "Good. Let me explain our policies, then -- and welcome you to the organization. You may call me Apparition..."

AVENGERS MANSION

"Can you help me, Dr. Pym?" Jim Hammond sat up from the examining table and looked at the somewhat frazzled-looking Hank Pym. The scientist was studying the Torch's schematics and rubbing his chin. The Torch had a sudden urge to stroke his beard and then remembered that he'd removed it -- it had been a bit of a lark in the first place, a way to break from the past. But in the end he'd decided that sometimes the old ways were the best -- not only was he once again clean-shaven, but he was wearing his red and yellow jumpsuit once more. All ready he felt more like himself.

Pym looked up and smiled. "I think so. When you gave your blood transfusion to Spitfire, it seemingly removed your flame powers -- but according to my studies, the serum that serves as your blood has been replenishing the needed components to activate your powers once again. It seems that after these last few months of my working with you, your body has been working on its own to repair the damage."

The Torch frowned. "So my powers are coming back naturally? I just need to wait for them?"

Pym shook his head. "Not at all. I'm reasonably sure that the process can be sped up -- though the experience might not be a pleasant one."

Namor grunted. The Atlantean stood nearby, watching as Pym and the Torch talked about the procedure. He found much of the conversation boring, but he did find himself looking forward to seeing the android in flight once more. Being behind a desk wasn't what a man like Hammond needed...like the Avenging Son, Hammond was a man of action.

"So if you immerse me in flames, my natural ability to control them should kick in?"

"I believe so -- your system, though artificial, closely mirrors the normal human responses. When placed in a stressful enviroment, your artificial body chemistry alters -- in effect, a burst of 'adrenaline' rushes through you, charging your batteries so to speak. I think that a sufficient threat could restore your abilities -- the flame aspect just makes more sense. Even if your ability to douse yourself in flame doesn't return right away, some natural ability to control pre-existing flame would probably return quickly."

The Torch smiled to himself. His powers were going to be back. Though it was selfish, part of his desire to have them restored was that he missed them -- missed flying through the air, missed the feeling of omnipotence. "Thanks for your help, Hank."

Hank Pym shook his head. "No need. The chance to study that android form of yours is thanks enough. Are you going to apply for re-instatement with the Avengers?"

The Torch stood up. "No...I want to serve as a mentor to some of the younger heroes. I've been active a long time and I've got a lot to pass on. I want to help them become better people, more responsible with their powers. We can't let the future be people like the Punisher."

"Sounds pretty nice, Torch. The Avengers are usually too busy to help the newer heroes along -- it'll be nice to have someone like you keeping an eye out for them."

Namor laughed out loud. "Hah! The matchstick caused more mass destruction in his day than the Punisher ever could! And now he wants to play elder statesman!"

Hammond cracked a wry grin. "Good point, Namor -- but I've learned from my mistakes."

The gasoline was very cold, not that it really bothered Jim Hammond. He was an android, he reminded himself, and as realistic as his feelings and emotions were, he was a machine. Machines don't shiver. So why was he shivering? Sometimes he thought that the older he got, the more human he became...not a bad condition, overall.

Hank Pym stepped back from him. They were standing in the backyard of Avengers Mansion and Jarvis was watching nervously out of the kitchen window. Hank waved to him. "Jarvis is worried I'm about to kill you, Torch."

"Couldn't happen, though I appreciate the concern. Worst that could happen would be my synthetic flesh gets singed..."

Pym nodded, moving farther back. He lit a match. "Are you ready, Jim?"

The android who bore the name Jim Hammond nodded. He added with a nervous smile, "Go ahead, Hank...Light My Fire."

Hank chuckled and tossed the lit match. It struck Hammond's left leg and caught immediately. The flame rushed up his leg and engulfed his upper torso. In the kitchen, Jarvis dropped a dish. As it shattered he covered his face. "My word!"

The flames licked higher, as if hungry for more. Jim Hammond closed his eyes as the flames ignited on his face and hair. He was a living inferno, clothed in fire. He was a Human Torch.

Slowly, he reached out and tried to control it. It danced madly on his form but he fought to order it, push it into the shape and form he desired. The flames condensed, his features becoming obscured.He felt the familiar sense of power, so long forgotten, and he laughed out loud -- a laugh of released and exhultation.

He flew into the air, a stream of flame trailing behind him. His laughter filled the sky.

Hank Pym watched from the ground, moving the water hose over the burning grass.

"Welcome back, Torch. Welcome back."

LATER THAT NIGHT

Jim Hammond stood outside the penthouse apartment he called home, inserting the key while humming a Big Band tune. Life was good...through it all, he'd made it. This time he'd make the best of his artificial life.

He entered the apartment and smiled as his cat ran past his legs. It brushed against him, purring. He made his way over to the answering machine and noted the blinking light. One message. He pressed it, expecting to hear the voice of some Oracle executive. Instead, he heard a voice from the past.

"Jim...? It's me, Ann Raymond...I know it's been awhile, but I really need to see you. Can you call me? It's 555-8643. Thanks."

The Torch listened in silence. Ann Raymond...Tom's widow. The woman who'd married his former partner, Toro...and for whom he'd felt more than a fleeting attraction for himself, after his resurrection. She'd sounded distraught...

A cat's hiss made him jump. His pet was arching her back and staring at the penthouse window. Jim looked that way and saw a flaming man outside his window, hovering in space.

The flaming figure launched a flame blast, shattering the glass. Hammond staggered back in surprise. The figure flew in, leaving yellowish-orange fire in his wake. When he set his feet on the carpet, he began burning a hole right through it. "Good evening, Mr. Hammond. You've been targeted for death by Killers Incorporated -- my employer thought you might find death by fire somewhat ironic for some reason...I'll make this slow and painful, Mr. Hammond -- I want to enjoy my work, after all. Now why don't you tell me how a corporate exec rated assassination by the likes of me, eh? I'd love to know as I'm burning your face off..."

Hammond startled Cinder by smiling. "Seems you're behind the times, friend -- I'm not helpless anymore, and I'm certainly not a coporate exec any longer. Back before you were ever born, I had another name -- and even though someone else shares it these days, I still have a right to it. So don't call me 'Mr. Hammond' any more...I'm the Human Torch."

And he became a man of fire.

NEXT ISSUE : The original Human Torch vs. Cinder! More on the mystery of Ann Raymond! And the Torch takes the first step in becoming a mentor to today's heroes!

THE FLAMING LETTERCOLUMN

Welcome to our first issue -- I hope you enjoyed it as much as I liked writing it. I've always thought the original Human Torch was a great character and I want to see him assume his position as one of MV1's Elder Statesmen -- he's seen it all and come through it stronger than ever. I hope to continue putting him through his paces in this title and hope to evoke some of what the DC Universe has done so well -- treat superheroes as a generational thing, with the elder heroes mentoring the new.

Killers Incorporated was an actual group of Human Torch foes in the 1940s. They were a group of gangsters who decided they wanted a spiffy little name and dubbed themselves 'Killers Inc.' The Torch wiped the floor with them, needless to say. How does the new group tie in to the old? Keep reading. Special thanks goes to Jess "I'm a Golden Age Wizard" Nevins for info on not just Killers Incorporated, but other old Torch foes as well.

Let me know what you think of this issue, folks. I value your input.

Barry Reese