APPEARANCES!

By Jason Gasper

 

Chapter 1

 

 

In the kingdom of Latveria, things were moving.  Trucks transported supplies with a fervor never before seen.  Doom had ordered and people were obeying.  In the capitol of Doomstadt, people murmured.  Never before had their monarch involved them in his plans and this change had some worried.  In Castle Doom plans unfurled like banners.  At the center stood four scared men who normally handled the day-to-day affairs of the country for their liege.  In the throne room, before these worried men sat the armored figure cloaked in green that was Doom!

 

The guilded throne sat on a slight dais, separating him from the rest of the room.  The sunlight reflected through ancient stained glass windows onto the violet hued security robots stationed in each corner.  The Boyars hadn't even noticed them there, so used to the robots' presence were they.  The attention of all four men was focused on Doom, who sat idly swirling the dregs of a rich red wine in a golden chalice.

 

"Yes, milord, the gathering of supplies continues apace, but..." The end boyar was cut with a wave from an iron gauntlet. 

 

The mask of Doom turned to the second.

 

"Umm..." Stuttered the second, "T-t-the overseers have reported that all c-c-checks out on the Fencewall, and the drones have f-f-finished scheduled upgrades on time but..."

 

Again, the slight gesture silenced the second boyar, his voice fading at the motion.  All knew the high price of disobedience.

 

"Well…," Hesitated the third, "theprojectistwoweekspastdueand," He sped through, voice rising to a squeak, "wearehavingdificultywiththeworkers-"

 

His voice, already squealing, died altogether as his lord stood abruptly.  The pudgy elder began to tremble under the weight of that steely gaze.  The voice's synthesized tones still managed to carry a hint of sophistication; it's soft tones still echoing throughout the chamber as the towering armored figure spoke.

 

"Why is the project behind at this critical juncture?" The gentleness of the question did nothing to hide the subtle menace underlying it.

 

I don't know, milord, " The boyar whispered, head bowed.

 

"Have no fear, Meager.  I don't blame you or your people for what is not your fault." The synthesized voice carried a hint of kindness as Doom descended the steps of the dais; "I will investigate the cause of the worker drone's problem.  In the mean time requisition as many more as you need to get back on schedule."

 

Doom swept all in his gaze as he stood before them.  "As the elite of Latveria, you are aware of the events in the rest of the world.  You have seen the rise of these so-called 'metas' and the havoc they have caused.  You have seen the chaos in other nations.  Know that Doom works to protect his people, not for conquest.  Go forth and reassure the people that the needs of Latveria come before those of their ruler, as they remain forefront in his thoughts and heart."

 

At this the four visibly relaxed, and as they left their stride betrayed a confidence that had been lacking on their entrance.  Doom watched them leave, the contempt he felt hidden behind his mask. 

 

"Fools," He muttered, as he wandered back to the throne.

 

"Yet they still serve a purpose" whispered a voice from the shadows.

 

Doom whirled at once, growling "Who dares - oh.  You.  Yes, they serve a purpose but I still prefer drones."

 

The voice chuckled, "That makes sense.  Are things ready for the next stage here?"

 

Doom nodded as he assumed the throne again; "All is in readiness here.  I will insure that it stays so.

 

"Good," Whispered the voice, "make sure you do.  Other pieces must be prepared as well."

 

 

Sunlight glistened off of metal in a largely barren room. The polished wood walls held various martial art weapons and workout equipment, while the wooden floorboards were broken by padded mats. In the bare center of the room a man worked out in the sunlight. The dome above had been ingeniously designed to keep the room lit regardless of the sun's actual position. It was one of the few luxuries he allowed himself, this touch of sun on skin. The tanned, lithe form rotated through set movements like clockwork; some of them stretched to make a yoga master wince while others whirled with speed and strength to worry a hard-core champion. The peaceful expression on the scarred face belied the sweaty effort that the body was putting out. In truth the body moved by instinct, as if the mind was absent. It wasn't gone, just somewhere other than the body. While his body gyrated and moved, his mind rested in a state of Zen "no-mind" oneness with the void. A mantra was repeated over and over, counter point to the kata. Unseen, the two actions allowed his spirit free to follow it's own exercises, building the faculties of all three at the same time. The energy off all three gained and built until, abruptly, he came to a halt. At a climax of energy, he stood and allowed the three to align again. His hands clapped, dissipating excess energy as he bowed a completion to the regiment. Later, as he showered down, Victor contemplated the advantages of having a sanctum that nobody else knew existed, or could access if they did. Finished cleaning up, he began another familiar ritual; as his body dons armor his mind began to mount psychic defenses of it's own. As he completed the process, he mouthed the words to actively protect his spirit as well. Within short order, Dr. Doom stood ready to face the world again.

 

 

Doom stepped into his control room.  From here one could access any part of his complex; laboratories, storage, manufacturing, even living quarters.  On the far side of the room, opposite the row of doors he entered through, stood the monitor wall.  The large primary screen, currently showing a world map, was flanked by banks of smaller screens.   Each of these smaller pictures showed glimpses of other places and people.  Some flickered from image to image while others continued to show the same scene.  Each side wall was lined with sensors, databanks, and various other devices.  Robots shambled from one place to another, studiously avoiding the central command chair.

 

It was toward this that Victor strode purposefully.  Even as he ascended the seat he began entering commands into the holographic keyboard that appeared under his hands.

 

“All seems in readiness,” He muttered as he typed, “HOMER, prepare the chosen coordinates and download them to my armor.”

 

“Yes sire,” whispered a detached, synthesized voice from midair, “All other projects on hold, reports pending inspection.  The special report on reality deviation and extradimentional attention are still processing, and…”

 

Dr. Doom allowed the voice to drone on, half listening.  He remembered when he had liberated the quasi-sentient system from the ruins of Stark’s previous home. It was free enough to be creative; intelligent enough to be useful, yet safeguarded enough to insure loyalty and safety.  He focused again on the coordinates before him.  This time he swore not to make the mistakes of the past.  Instead of taking over the world directly, this time his control was to be subtler.  Minor manipulations instead of direct force.  Small stones created much greater ripples and small sticks could start an avalanche.  With whatever was influencing this world, such indirect methods would serve him better for now, until he was ready to confront the cause of the disturbance.  Each of these small placements would eventually bloom into pawns in unexpected places.  On this chessboard, they may even develop to be knights.  But first the seeds had to be planted…

 

“Lord, your attention is needed on monitor K7” spoke HOMER in more insistent tones.

 

“Eh?” Doom muttered, distracted, “Hm.  Put it on the main screen.”

 

One of the small monitors faded to blank as the image transferred to the larger main monitor.  As it transferred one could begin to make out a silver-tressed and dressed woman pacing around Doom’s castle magistrate as a servant in strange livery stood back toward the entrance.  The image cleared and the volume began to transfer to the main speakers as well, transferring from the background noise to identifiable sounds.

 

“I am no random visitor or wandering mendicant but a fellow monarch and head of state!  I insist on meeting with Doom now!” The silver garbed figure faded in at a full bellow.  Victor recognized the young form of Silver Sable, monarch and mercenary.  The two had long been on good terms and Sable’s yearly state dinner was one of the few such events that Dr. Doom looked forward to each year.  Yet she was acting strangely out of character and she certainly wasn’t scheduled to be here now…

 

“Do you wish her dealt with, Lord?” murmured the air around Dr. Doom.

 

“No,” came Doom’s cavernous reply, “I’ll deal with it myself.  If Doom she wants, it shall be DOOM SHE SHALL HAVE!”

 

 

Boris was tired and upset.  Being Dr. Doom’s head magistrate, in charge of the castle and Doom’s schedule, was quite an honor.  Having known Victor’s parents and helping to raise the boy after their death had earned him this position; gentle enough for his age but still serving his lord.  Unfortunately, there was the occasional upset.  Such as the unexpected appearance of Silver Sable, especially as her traditional friendly demeanor seemed to have been replaced with that of a lunatic. 

 

“Please, please… I will have you called when the lord is available,” he murmured, trying to regain control of the situation, “This display will gain you nothing.”

The younger woman continued to circle Boris, stopping between him and the throne.  Her pacing was that of a caged animal, but the look on her face showed Sable as far from tame.  She sneered, “I won’t just sulk off – this ‘display’ will draw Doom out, eventually.  Or you could call him if you are in such a hurry to have me gone.  But I will see Doom before I leave this room!”

 

“If it is Doom you desire, then turn!” Boomed the metallic voice from the throne behind him.  She whirled, gasping, to find an armored figure had appeared in complete silence.  Doom’s next words were no less forceful for their reduced volume; “Now that you have my undivided attention you will explain your rudeness.”

 

“Rude?” Cried Silver Sable, “Yes I am rude and yes it’s not like me!  Nothing is like it’s supposed to be!  Even Superman has gone insane!  The entire world is acting out of character but you!  Are you the cause or the cure?” 

 

“You have the word of Doom that I am not the architect of this madness.” Doom answered calmly, “Think not that Doom is unaware or unaffected.  I simply have defenses that you are unaware of.”

 

Sable seemed to consider this, becoming somewhat thoughtful.  She looked up at Doom and their eyes locked.  Several minutes passed before she was forced to break from the steely gaze above her.  Again, Sable concentrated for several more minutes before reaching a decision.  She spoke slowly, as if each calm word was a struggle, “So.  You can protect yourself and your people too.  I am in no position to make decisions in the best interest of my people.  What must I do to see to their protection?”

 

“A true knight left in this atomic age?” Mused Doom, “And what do you offer for said protection, Sir Knight?”

 

“You are familiar with my activities as a mercenary with my WolfPack, to fuel the economy of my resource poor country?”  Sable spoke as she went over to the uniformed servant by the entrance door.  Once there, she flipped open the storage chest the servant supported and lifted out a crown.  Taking it over to Doom’s throne, Sable knelt down before him and offered up the diadem.  “In exchange for protecting my people and freeing me from this madness I offer you my services and fealty.  Entirely.  Exclusively.  Permanently.”

 

Doom leaned back in his throne, contemplating the offer before him, examining it from every angle.  He spoke slowly and clearly, as to leave no doubt to his words or meaning, “You realize the consequences of what you propose?  Once made, this decision could not be reversed.”

 

Silver Sable nodded once.  At a gesture from Doom, Boris retrieved the crown and stepped away.  Standing, Doom looked down at the kneeling figure before him.  No emotion or thought could be seen on the iron mask. 

 

“Doom accepts your offer.  Take two legions of workdrones.  One will setup supply lines and improve infrastructure while the other extends the Fencewall around your country too.  Assign one company of Combat Drones to each member of your Wolfpack.  They will help you enforce order until I can provide more direct methods.  Be assured that I will free you from this madness when I join you there.  Now begone!  For Doom is needed elsewhere!”

 

As Doom spoke, a rectangle of gold silken energy began to unfurl next to him.  Before the amazed eyes of Boris and Sable it hung in the air like a sheet of woven sunlight.  Once Doom was through speaking, he turned and stepped through it.  The two remaining people stared in amazement as Doom disappeared into unseen depths.  Doom was gone and in but a second so was the doorway!

 

End of Appearances: Chapter 1 …. Chapter 2 is in the works!