Narrative: Face to Face Characters: Victor von Doom NPCs: Lucia von Bardas Location: Latverian Embassy Timeline: 11/25 Description: Victor shares a moment with his aide. Rating: PG
Victor could feel a ringing in his ears as he stood, almost doubled over his desk, knuckles white from bracing the wood. His staff had said he was working too hard. On top of his regular duties and schooling, there were the projects he was working on in secret. He worked in total privacy, in a space only he had access to. He worked into the night almost every night of the week, and with the trip to see Jane's parents for Thanksgiving, he had been pushing the limits of what he could stand.
He had been trying hard to overcome the pain—the hellfire-born searing under his skin. He would have no place to hide for a few days, and he was trying to build his strength. He clenched his grip harder for a moment before giving in and pulling the mask from the drawer and sliding it over his face. He panted heavily, relief washing over him.
There was a creak in the floor, and his eyes whipped up to the source. Lucia took an apologetic step backwards. She stammered out in Latverian. "I didn't mean to int—"
"Get out." The words were came out in English, clipped and stern.
"But Victor, I—this—" She started to take steps forward to his desk. He could feel his blood boiling at the impertinence.
"GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!" This time he raged in his native tongue. "YOU'LL BE LUCKY TO SEE ANO—"
"This does not bother me!" She shouted, holding a hand up to get his attention. He was taken aback, watching her in confusion as she stepped slowly around his desk. "I learned very quickly that there is nothing you do without purpose. I am sorry to have intruded on your privacy, but this..." She reached up to touch the side of the dark mask. "It does not bother me." Letting her hand fall away, she pulled a folder of paperwork out from under her arm before setting it down on his desk. "I hope you have a good trip, Victor."
She turned to go, but he halted her, catching her wrist in his hand. She glanced over her shoulder at him, and for a moment, he simply caught her gaze, running his thumb over her wrist, contemplating this new person in his life who was so different from anyone else. He allowed her wrist to drop, turning himself deliberately away from her. He didn't speak, just leaned silently against his desk until he heard her leave the room. He face no longer ached, but something deep inside of him did.