Chapter 1: Welcome to Your Doom
Dimly, he clawed his way to consciousness. Slowly, almost achingly, tired eyes opened behind polished armor. Blinding light seared at his retinas, but he did not look away. He would not be so weak. He stared into the light and willed the pain into nothingness.
The world came into focus, and beneath his mask, he frowned. He was not normally so...
slow to wake. Had he been drugged, somehow, despite how inconceivable such a thing might be? Or, perhaps more sinister - could this be the work of a rival sorcerer? Some curse to sap his ironclad will and dull his incomparable brilliance? Few could manage it, but that pest Strange might be capable... No. There was no tell-tale swirl of magic that even the most accomplished spellcaster would leave behind. Only something...
else. Something dark and deep and almost cruel...
A harsh noise snapped him from the beginnings of his analytic reverie. The first prickles of annoyance blossomed as he turned his head to face the sound. The wretched creature - nothing but exposed bone and muscle, had it no
skin? - stumbled towards him, gurgling harshly. Deciding to free the grotesque thing from its pitiful existence, he raised his hand, conjuring a mote of energy with which to smite it, only to feel the sharp jerk of a restraint against his wrist. What was this? What presumption of - the
outrage! The sheer, unmitigated
impudence! When he found out what fool had dared lay hands on his perfection, much less
chain him like some kind of
HOUND-
-!
-!
-!
-!
-!
The stone table, for that was what it had been, lay shattered on the floor, fragments scattered by electromagnetic fury. Of the fell creature, only an oily ash remained. Every light had been utterly destroyed; yet, the room was still lit by an unearthly green fire played lazily above a metal hand. And it was by this light that the one watching through the sole surviving camera saw the gleaming figure slowly touch town, calm the eldritch energies hovering about its head, stand tall and proud and almost regal amidst the carnage it had just wrought. And when it spoke, he began to question his carefully-laid plans for the first time.
"WHO DARES LAY HANDS ON DOCTOR DOOM?"
Miles away, Samuel Hayden wondered exactly what he had unleashed.
The door, deprived of its sensitive electronic lock, had not wanted to open. That was no obstacle; Doom was used to waving uncooperative things aside. He had once put up with Reed Richards for extended periods of time, after all. A simple application of telekinesis cleared his path, and the Latverian monarch strode forth into the next room. It was... well. To say it was a
mess would be akin to saying that the Human Torch was
a bit immature. It had been a while since Doom had seen this much blood in one place. Between that, the candles, and the very broken scientific equipment (crude designs, but not everyone could design to his standards, he supposed), it was clear that someone had attempted some kind of ritual without proper safety procedures and had gotten themselves pulped for their troubles. That was the problem with trying to summon things, he mused, idly observing the dull-green suit of armor: it really wasn't worth the inevitable cost in equipment and lives to catch the attention of some being that
might be willing to obey you, and which you might
not be capable of restraining. Better to do whatever it was you wanted done yourself.
After a few minutes of examining the armor - it really was quite impressive, he had to admit, even if it could hardly hold a candle to the magnificent creation he proudly wore - Doom turned to the screen nearby, from which an increasingly impatient voice had been attempting to engage him in conversation, doubtless about something insipid like the weather, or perhaps all the blood. Doom was tempted to ignore the voice and continue through the next door; unfortunately, his intellect won out. He knew too little about this place to continue on uninformed. Even lies could help expose
motives, after all.
"-You'll have to forgive the restraints. You weren't who we were expecting."
Doom scowled. "DOCTOR DOOM DOES NOT HAVE TO FORGIVE ANYTHING. WHOEVER YOU WERE EXPECTING IS IRRELEVANT; YOUR PITIFUL ATTEMPT TO RESTRAIN US WAS A GRAVE INSULT AND, FOR THAT, WE WILL HAVE RECOMPENSE." He crossed his arms with a gentle clank, just loud enough to be picked up by the microphone. That had taken a lot of practice to get right, back when he had first created his armor. "YOU MAY NOW EXPLAIN YOUR SINS."
"..." The man on the other end was taking quite a while to respond. Perhaps there was a significant transmission delay. Or perhaps the man was just slow. Most ordinary men Doom talked to were slow. A notable exception was that photographer from the Daily Bugle, Peter Parker, who had once been sent to Latveria to take pictures for an article about his glorious nation. The young man had a fine brain; with the proper development, he could become an excellent laboratory assistant. Such a mind was wasted on journalism.
"I assure you," the voice said. "We would not have done so had we known who you were. Whoever you are." Well. The man had
some sense, at least. Not nearly
enough, but some. "I am doctor Samuel Hayden, the director of this UAC facility. One of my colleagues betrayed me, betrayed us all, in the search for power. She released the fury of Hell upon us." Oh, so it was one of
those situations. Well, Doom was no stranger to demons or the eradication thereof. And with the mention of Hayden
expecting someone else - he could guess where this was going.
Hayden was still speaking. "Your being here was an accident, but we need all the help we can get." There it was. "You need my help to get back to wherever you came from." He most certainly did not, but it wouldn't do to play all his cards at once. "I propose a deal. You stop Olivia Pierce from killing us all, and I send you home with a gift."
Doom's metal finger rung against his chin. "A GIFT?"
"Yes. The secret to extracting Argent Energy from Hell. Unlimited power for a desperate age."
Using the power of Hell to solve the energy crisis? Doom was unsure if this Doctor Hayden was insane or maybe, just maybe, someone worth respecting. On the one hand, he
had tried to chain Doom down like a beast (and he had yet to so much as apologize, let alone grovel properly), but on the other... that was
inventive. And hard. One did not simply decide to "go mine Hell" and just
do it. And Doom was always looking for new ways to grow his might...
"...VERY WELL. WE HAVE AN AGREEMENT. BUT KNOW THIS - SHOULD YOU CHOOSE BETRAYAL, THERE IS NO FORCE THAT CAN PREVENT YOUR PUNISHMENT."
"I understand. That won't be necessary. One last thing to clear up, however. What is your name?"
"AS PREVIOUSLY STATED: YOU MAY CALL US DOCTOR DOOM. AS FOR OLIVIA PIERCE - TO HER, WE ARE SIMPLY
DOOM."
