Issue #3 by Jake Hawkins
Nov 2023 Doom
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THE MOUNTAINS OF LATVERIA
SOMETIME AFTER MIDNIGHT A surge of crackling energy coursed between the twin turbine towers flanking the colossal structure nestled amidst the woodlands on the hill of Mt. Doom. Beyond the imposing building's perimeter, a small patrol of Doombots, each bearing a striking resemblance to their creator, diligently scanned the vicinity for any intruding eyes. While the citizens of Latveria dared not venture into the mountain's restricted lands, Prince Victor Von Doom was acutely aware of the many external forces intent on discovering the secrets concealed within his central laboratory. Inside the fortress-like walls of Prince Victor Von Doom's laboratory, his wife, Rebecca Von Doom, let out a sigh of frustration as she conducted exhaustive tests on their latest robotic creation. Pacing back and forth in front of a partially assembled cybernetic skeleton, Rebecca had dedicated hours to optimizing the internal structure's functionality. The Prince had been engrossed in his own half of the project, collaborating with his mimicry-prone assistants on the intricate programming that would bring their invention to life. Using the control panel before her, Rebecca initiated a series of tests to evaluate the skeleton's movements. She clicked her tongue in annoyance at the noticeable response lag, her disappointment momentarily eclipsed by the palpable frustration echoing through the lab. Abandoning her station, she joined a pair of Doombots heading toward the far end of the sprawling laboratory. There, she finally found her husband of seven months, pacing before a colossal 1200-inch monitor. On the screen, a global news broadcast played, one that she suspected Victor had covertly intercepted from a neighboring country, as foreign journalistic access to Latveria was strictly forbidden. This was just one of many methods Prince Von Doom employed to watch the world outside Latveria's walls, particularly those he considered his adversaries. Victor's focus was squarely on the source of his anger as Rebecca observed the B-roll footage being reported. She watched as he seethed beneath the iron mask concealing his features, a mask that she alone had been privy to see beneath ever since a catastrophic incident several years ago left him scarred. Her gaze shifted back to the screen, where Reed Richards was shown emerging from the Senate building in Washington, D.C., a throng of persistent reporters surrounding him, along with his assistant. "THOSE FOOLS!" Doom's thunderous rage erupted as he pounded his steel-clad fists against the expansive control board of his main computer. Sparks flew from the damage inflicted by his steel gauntlets. "They had every opportunity to use their corrupt excuse for so-called democracy to bring that fool and his inflated ego to justice, and they fumbled it!" Doom's anger was uncontainable at that moment, but as he sensed Rebecca's presence behind him, he quickly composed himself. Stepping away from the computer, he allowed a pair of Doombots to swoop in and begin immediate repairs before approaching his wife. "Victor, my darling, we've discussed this, haven't we?" Rebecca reminded him, her hand resting on the mask covering his face, her gaze locked onto his cold, blue eyes. "He is an eternal obstacle, Rebecca. Eventually, I will NEED to rid this planet of him. Not just for the sake of our people but for the world I will create for our children," Doom declared with thunderous determination. "I understand, my love, truly, I do. And I will stand by your side as you do what must be done, as I always have and always will. But for us to build that world, Richards cannot be our sole focus. We stand on the brink of several breakthroughs. I know you see this." Doom allowed Rebecca's words to penetrate his thoughts before reluctantly tearing himself away from her and striding back to his computer. He waved the Doombots aside and redirected the monitor's focus to the progress of the programs he was uploading to a server labeled "DHV1.5." Next to the progress bar was a fully completed sketch of the cybernetic exoskeleton Rebecca had been testing. "How has the integration process responded to the programming?" Rebecca inquired, standing just over his left shoulder near the console. He sighed. "Progress has been slower than anticipated, but a series of dominos will fall once this is fully operational. Bloated politicians will no longer hinder the expansion of Timely Enterprises." Rebecca stepped forward, her fingers deftly pressing a pair of keys to bring up a map of Eastern Europe. It displayed various cities marked for the construction of factories. She eyed the map with caution, her mind grappling with the implications and potential repercussions from those who saw Latveria and its prince, the man the world knew as "Doctor Doom," as the ultimate threats to global peace. "The Americans will undoubtedly attempt to obstruct these endeavors. And when they can't—" "When they can't, we'll ensure our company becomes so profitable that they won't be able to resist letting us build our plants on their soil as well," Doom declared with unwavering confidence, his long-term scheme gradually taking shape before his calculating eyes. Their discussion was momentarily interrupted by a security beacon. Doom swiftly cleared the alert and directed the monitor's attention to the source of the satellite imaging—a small office building in the neighboring country of Symkaria. "It appears that your reconnaissance Doombots have struck gold," Rebecca observed, her gaze scanning the additional footage the Doombots transmitted back to the lab. "I knew that Hill would be foolish enough to establish another SHIELD outpost within our reach. It pains me to bring such destruction to Symkaria; they have endured more than enough," Doom muttered, his fist clenching in frustration. Rebecca placed a steadying hand on his shoulder, offering silent support to fortify his resolve. "It is a necessary sacrifice. One that will serve as a stark reminder of both the U.S. and Symkaria's place in the global hierarchy," Rebecca asserted with a resolute tone. Behind his mask, Doom allowed himself a smile. Rebecca headed off, confident in her husband's forthcoming actions. "If you require my assistance, beloved, I'll be advancing our work on its physical form." SHIELD ALPHA HELICARRIER SOMEWHERE OVER THE ATLANTIC OCEAN Susan Storm was seated inside her bunker, clad in camo pants and a SHIELD training t-shirt harkening back to her earliest days with the organization. Her laptop was propped open on the desk, streaming European Formula 1 races. Amid the racing excitement, her attention was laser-focused on a single car, number 44, a racer affectionately dubbed "The Human Torch" by the commentators, owing to his blazing speed and skill. As she reveled in the final exhilarating laps of the race, her enjoyment was abruptly interrupted by a direct call to her SHIELD communicator, originating from Director Hill. "Storm," she answered. "Get to the bridge. Emergency briefing," Maria Hill commanded tersely before promptly ending the call. Fifteen minutes later, Susan, now dressed in her full uniform, strode onto the bridge, the corridor doors sealing shut firmly behind her. Gathered around the table were several fellow agents, with Agent Woo being the most prominent figure among them. Maria Hill, who had shifted her attention from the helm, turned to address the assembled agents. She descended a short flight of steps from the main deck of the bridge. A holographic map of Symkaria materialized at the center of the table, with Maria standing at the head. "Twelve hours ago, an army of what our intelligence files have referred to as 'Doombots' launched an attack on a SHIELD outpost we'd established in Symkaria only three months ago," Maria briefed the group, providing an overview of the dire events. The map then transitioned to brief security footage of the Doombots breaching the building that had been posing as a U.S. consulate. "That's all we've managed to acquire of these monstrosities in action, unfortunately. It seems that Doom's creations were meticulous in erasing any traces of their assault. Fortunately, Agent Woo was stationed at the outpost and managed to escape the onslaught. Agent Woo, we'll need your firsthand account of the events." Maria took a seat, signaling that it was Agent James Woo's turn to speak. Susan watched him closely, having known him only by reputation despite their having enlisted around the same time. "Based on our findings just before the attack and in its aftermath, we are led to believe that Doom has surveillance networks in multiple locations across the capital of Symkaria," the map reappeared on the table, replacing the brief footage, and Woo continued with his report. "It stands to reason that he has been monitoring the outpost since the moment we set foot in that country. We can confirm that at least two Latverian satellites were intently focused on the region over the past seventy-two hours." Agent Peggy Carter had had her fill of discussions and was eager to get down to the tactical details. "Doom has bared his fangs and cost the lives of SHIELD agents more than once. Regardless of the optics, we should strike hard, Director," she asserted. Maria raised an eyebrow but wasn't surprised by Agent Carter's fierce resolve. She was one of the first SHIELD agents to have dealings with Latveria, and she knew firsthand just how deadly the Von Doom family and their nation could be. "While I understand your passion, Agent Carter, I believe we should employ a more subtle approach in this situation," Susan chimed in, offering her perspective. "Doom is always willing to fight dirty, so we should meet him on the same level." Maria leaned forward, intrigued. "What do you have in mind, Agent Storm?" She prompted Susan to continue, drawing the attention of the entire table to the Director's top agent. "What Timely ENT. buildings have already started construction in Europe?" Susan inquired, initiating a discussion that would later shape their mission. Hours later, Susan expertly guided a SHIELD stealth dropper jet along the Irish coast, using the cover provided by the clouds and the brewing storm for their approach. Peggy entered the cockpit, surveying the skies ahead with admiration. "I had no idea you were this skilled in the air, Storm," Peggy remarked, clearly impressed by Susan's aviation prowess. "If you weren't such a heavy hitter in the field, you'd make an excellent pilot for more of my drops." Susan responded with a sly smirk. "I had one heck of an impromptu teacher before I enlisted. But honestly, I'd prefer having Ben fly me anywhere." Her thoughts briefly drifted back to a cherished memory before returning to the task at hand. "We're getting close. We'll drop from here and leave the bird on autopilot until the charges are set." Peggy nodded and began her preparations in earnest, clad in her covert riot gear, the standard attire for SHIELD missions with parameters like this one. She readied her chosen weaponry alongside the rest of their team. Ten minutes later, they emerged from the ocean and slipped into a drainpipe just below the still-under-construction TIMELY Ent factory. Their mission had begun. # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # Peggy Carter and Susan Storm encountered their first obstacle, a heavily fortified iron gate that seemed oddly out of place in the massive storm drain. Susan's attention locked onto the complex security keypad at the gate's center, and she signaled their security specialist to handle the device's deactivation. "Let's make this quick," Peggy urged, her weapon pointed back toward the entrance of the drain, more than a mile and a half behind them. "Just a few more seconds," the young agent assured. Finally, a series of flashing green lights on the keypad indicated that it had been successfully disabled, causing the gate to swing backward and grant them access beneath the facility. They continued until they reached a service hatch and ladder. Both Peggy and Susan, as the mission leaders, had meticulously studied the intel and knew that this would be their point of entry. "I'll lead; you bring up the rear," Peggy suggested. Susan nodded in agreement, promptly climbing the ladder to reach the bolted-shut hatch. With no time for the sophisticated tools provided by SHIELD's field services team, a more forceful approach was necessary. Pointing an outstretched hand at the steel-plated door, Susan unleashed a powerful concussive forcefield that blasted it clear off its hinges. She emerged first, the only team member not carrying a firearm, and Peggy followed her out. As Peggy began unloading C-4 charges from her backpack, she addressed the rest of the team, providing clear and concise instructions. "Don't stand there twiddling your thumbs. You all know the structural weak points around this building. Get to your designated positions and set the remaining charges. You have ten minutes." The team scattered throughout the partially constructed factory, moving with utmost haste. Peggy rose to her feet once she was satisfied with her charge placement, and she observed Susan scanning their surroundings. The look on Susan's face raised concerns for Peggy. "This seems too straightforward," Susan admitted as they started walking along the cobblestone floors of the building. "I don't care if it's still under construction; there's no way Doom would leave this place devoid of real defenses." Peggy kept her rifle trained high, constantly checking every corner they passed. "We do know that he's been stretched thin lately, especially if the rumors about his father's health hold any weight." "We're relying on a lot of Latverian intel, and I've got a few sources of my own," Susan replied. Peggy had a brief moment of realization that she didn't want to divert her attention from the mission, but curiosity got the better of her as she inquired about the sources Susan was referring to. "I've read your file, Storm. You've known Von Doom longer than anyone in SHIELD," Peggy noted as she observed Susan, her gaze shifting from the drilling machines and excavation equipment being brought in for when the factory was operational. "So, he was at ESU when you and R—" "Yes, he was. And I know that he's watching us right now. Because it's in his nature," Susan replied, her words tinged with regret. She disliked treating Victor Von Doom as the boogeyman he sought so eagerly to be, but she understood that no mind was more diabolical or more willing to sacrifice human life for his ideals than the Prince of Latveria. In that moment, she wished they had more time to strategize for this assault. "Let's get this over with," she said, turning Peggy around and reaching back into her backpack for additional charges. Susan secured the heavy C-4 blocks around one of the building's columns while Peggy checked in with the rest of their team. "Agent 13 to beta squad. Charges are set on our end. What's your ETA to the rendezvous point?" The response was a garbled mix of gunfire and screams from the third-year agents, filling Peggy and Susan with dread. "Agents 98.47, 64, I repeat, what is your current ETA?" This time, the radio line went utterly silent, forcing the two senior agents to confront the inevitable. "We can't abandon them, Agent 13," Susan admitted as she rose, the C-4 primed and ready around the column. Peggy lowered her head, fully aware of the critical mission protocols and understanding Susan's perspective. "Susan, you know the consequences if, at the very least, we don't make it out of here. Are you certain that's a risk you want to take?" Gritting her teeth, Susan affirmed her decision. "It's a risk I have to take. Let's go." They sprinted across the building, heading toward the location of the rest of their team. Their SHIELD training had conditioned them to maintain breakneck speeds without easily tiring. As they passed rows of electric forklifts, they witnessed a swarm of Doombots descending from the sky around what remained of their team. "Peggy—" Susan began to formulate their immediate rescue plan, but she should have known that an agent of Peggy Carter's caliber would spring into action without hesitation. She hurled a handful of concussive grenades, the standard for scattered combat like this, toward the wave of Doombots supporting those on the front lines. # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # # The two agents were relentless in their struggle against the Doombots, but their attacks only seemed to stagger the onslaught without truly stopping it. Peggy, with elite precision, took down the robots with headshots from her rifle, each shot fired with adamantium-cast rounds. But she knew this method was far too inefficient. They had no idea how many of these deadly automaton replicas of their creator lurked within the seemingly unfinished factory. TIMELY ENT, the facade of a tech industry giant, masked the truth of what Doom's company was designed for: extending the reign of terror that had already consumed Latverians who managed to escape its borders. Only a handful had fled, and the world had witnessed what Doom was capable of on multiple occasions. However, none of that seemed to matter when the dollar amounts were high enough. Peggy fired relentlessly, her disgust evident in everything she saw around her. The factory had to be operational and mass-producing these lethal Doombots somewhere beneath its surface. It was a trap, and Doom knew SHIELD would fall into it. Where were these robots, nearly indistinguishable from their creator, coming from? Lost in the battle and her quest for understanding, Peggy nearly lost her head to an approaching Doombot. But before the robot could swing its blade-like arm, it was crushed out of nowhere by an immense force. Susan materialized above the scattered robotic parts, her nose bloodied from the unanticipated confrontation. Grabbing one of the unconscious agents, Susan slung him over her shoulder. She generated a forcefield that deflected a barrage of energy blasts without even looking in the direction of the Doombots. "We have to go, Peggy!" Agent 13 nodded, and they sprinted away from their attackers. Susan activated her wrist command pad to bring their jet closer to the factory. In the skies above, the SHIELD stealth dropper descended from the clouds, shedding its cloaking device as it headed to rescue the agents. Susan peered through the fragmented sheet metal in the roof, catching a glimpse of the streaking aircraft. They had a chance, and she wouldn't squander it. Doom wouldn't win this battle. She was determined to ensure that outcome. Beside her, Peggy continued to return fire at the swarm of Doombots attempting to turn the factory into their tomb. However, before the jet could reach the shores below the factory, a pair of cannons stationed on the rocks within the churning waters unleashed anti-aircraft missiles that streaked through the sky at blazing speeds. Susan cursed under her breath, unable to watch as their means of escape came crashing down in flames into the sea. She was too busy using another concussive blast to slam a group of Doombots into a nearby steel press. Overwhelmed by the relentless attack, Susan needed to find a way out of this dire situation. As she encased them within a forcefield bubble to buy some time, an unexpected and unlikely ally emerged when they needed it most. "OI! That's enough of you bastards!" Oswin Oswald cried out as she fired Reed Richards' latest model of the EMBlaster. The electromagnetic pulse tore through the group of Doombots as Reed skillfully maneuvered his four-pronged vehicle to a halt in front of her. Susan promptly dropped her forcefield, signaling to Peggy that they should make their way to Reed and what she vaguely remembered as the Fantasticar – at least that's what she recalled the design spec being labeled. "Oswin, keep them off of us," Reed instructed his assistant as he turned his attention to Peggy. "In fifteen seconds, you can blow whatever explosives you've set." Peggy nodded, already counting down in her head. Reed focused on piloting his craft, expertly navigating through the rooftop breach, while Oswin continued to fend off the pursuing Doombots. The agents were rapidly closing in on their escape. CASTLE DOOM DOOMSTADT, LATVERIA Prince Victor Von Doom stood outside the entrance to his father's bedroom, adorned in royal dress robes, a garment he wore only a few times each year. At his side, equally resplendent, was Rebecca, exuding a regal presence. The two of them entered the chamber. A suite of medical apparatus monitored King Victor Von Doom I's oxygen, heart rate, and blood pressure, the aging monarch lying in his bed. The prince moved deliberately closer to his father's bedside, and Rebecca lent her silent support as he faced the internal turmoil he concealed beneath his mask. "Victor, my boy. My pride," gasped King Von Doom as he pushed aside his oxygen mask. "Please, come closer." Victor responded to his father's request, removing a gauntlet to grasp his father's hand. A portrait of Victor's mother rested on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. His gaze briefly lingered on it before his father's coughing fit brought his attention back to the ailing king. "Father, save your strength. You will live to witness our dominance over this world, as is our birthright. I promise you this!" Victor whispered to his father. His voice, though hushed, was filled with fierce determination, delivering his pledge as if his victories were already unfolding. This confidence had initially captivated Rebecca. Her heart swelled as she listened to Victor's impassioned assurances to his father. "All of you, OUT!" the king thundered, commanding his numerous attendants, doctors, and nurses to vacate his two-story bedroom. They hurriedly exited, and the doors closed with a resounding slam behind them. Victor comprehended his father's decision to have everyone removed. Rebecca advanced, removing the mask from the prince's face to allow the king to see his son. The scarred visage of Victor Von Doom the second gazed down at his father, refraining from tears despite knowing that these were their last moments together. "Take this world into a new age, my son. This is what you were born for. Your mother sacrificed her life for you to have the intellect you were blessed with. You know what to do." The grip of his father slowly went limp in Victor's hand, and the king's breathing became increasingly shallow. Rebecca allowed tears to flow, paying her respects to the great man who had shaped her husband's destiny. Hours later, they were in the castle's war room, finishing the preparations for the king's funeral. Rebecca picked up an onyx-black envelope resting on the stone table as she approached Victor, who was seated in a chair. Doctor Doom regarded his wife with curiosity, his eyes drawn to the envelope. "Somehow, an invitation was delivered to you," Rebecca informed him. She discarded the envelope and handed him the card. Victor held out his hand, and she passed it to him. He briefly perused the card, finding some amusement in the effort the sender had exerted to reach him. "Newly crowned (or soon to be) King of Latveria, Doctor Victor Von Doom. You are hereby extended an invitation to join the Hellfire Club." Doom crumpled up the card, his amusement extinguished. TO BE CONTINUED EPILOGUE Sarah Jane sighed in exasperation as she ascended the rickety ladder to the top shelf in the cramped, dimly lit bookshop. Her fingers grazed the spine of "Dracula" as she retrieved it and returned it to its rightful place, all the while grappling with her growing frustration. She couldn't help but shake her head, her annoyance bubbling over. "You have the most ridiculous ordering system. What kind of library do you think you're running here anyway?" From the hidden recesses of what appeared to be the back of the bookstore, a figure emerged. It was a squat, chubby man with a thinning pate, crowned by a crown of graying hair at his temples. He meticulously dusted off his weathered brown bowler hat, perched atop the front desk near the cash register, and with a swift motion, placed it on his head. This hat harmonized seamlessly with his tweed vest, trousers, and even his favored pair of new balance sneakers. "I'm running the kind of place where I can always find what I need to!" Professor Justin Gamble retorted, his voice sharp and impatient. He reached beneath the front desk, retrieving his well-worn briefcase. Fixing Sarah Jane with a stern gaze, he warned her in a tone reminiscent of a schoolmaster addressing a disobedient pupil, "Now, don't go changing things around while I'm at the lecture." Sarah Jane let out an exasperated huff and, with a flick of her hand, brushed aside her unruly reddish-brown locks that had fallen into her face. "You wouldn't be able to notice if I did anyhow!" She fired back, her words laced with sarcasm, before she turned her attention back to the cluttered bookshelves. "Nonsense! Of course, I would," Professor Gamble grumbled under his breath as he turned to leave the shop. But before he could reach the door, it swung open abruptly, revealing a face he knew he shouldn't be seeing in his humble establishment. A brown and gray disheveled bearded man, clad in what appeared to be a utilitarian cosmic radiation protection suit, staggered into the shop, barely able to maintain his footing. Without hesitation, Professor Gamble reached out and caught the collapsing man just before he hit the floor. Sarah Jane, ever alert and quick to respond, abandoned her ladder and hurried to their side. She aided in steadying the disoriented man. "Sarah, get me some water, quickly!" Without waiting for confirmation, she dashed to the back of the store. With a deep furrow in his brow, Professor Gamble cast a stern, cautionary glance at the bearded man. His gaze conveyed the gravity of the situation, the unspoken understanding that this unannounced visit held danger. "Nathan, you know you aren't supposed to be here." Nathan's voice rasped as he admitted, "I know... I know... I need you to get me out of this reality." |