victorvon_doom (victorvon_doom) wrote in newalliance, @ 2014-06-15 12:58:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | doom |
Who: DOOM! npc Mephisto
Where: Skrull ship/Latveria
When: Decemberish 2013 / June 15, 2014
What: Some of what happened on the Skrull ship, then to present day--just in case there’s ever a wonder of why Doom really dislikes Skrulls.
Rating: Pg-13
Flash back during the Secret Invasion…
Doom had done fairly well the first three weeks being the Skrulls’ prisoner. He observed, he exercised, he ate their food and meditated to stay sharp and centered. He kept bandages over his face in place of a mask, and his captors permitted it. He’d gone over the cell and had tried to break through the magic-dampening energy without success. Now, the dictator could only wait and try to preserve his strength.
That broke down by the end of the first month in the Skrull’s clutches. Victor had an impressive willpower. A ridiculous willpower even. His will alone staved off the curse and he meditated to avoid sleeping deeply. An average person would have broken down by the third day. Doom was not normal.
So when he thought he was meditating with the glowing stark white room about him and opened his eyes to see the blot of red on the wall, he might have sighed or felt apprehension--were he normal. Victor instead just narrowed his eyes as the red blot swelled like blood seeping through a bandage. The demon formed, casting amused yellow eyes about the cell. It wasn’t really there. Victor understood that already. No. He was asleep, and his willpower to keep the curse from him was now exhausted.
And Mephisto was delighted, stalking toward him in his dream. “Mr. Victor von Doom. It has been so long…” He lift a palm. “Since last solstice? Ah, but it’s been a very long time since I’ve been able to disturb you here.”
Doom said nothing. The demon liked to goad, liked to gain reaction from him.
“It’s the armor, of course. Your lovely Tibetan enchanted alloy. Clever. Even if you get so exhausted as this, you can just sleep with your mask on and I can’t disturb your sweet, sweet dreams of conquering the globe. It has been years since I could enjoy this delight. Mephisto swarmed close, reaching a single black claw forward to touch the middle of Doom’s forehead.
The burning, clawing sensation seared him. Victor’s nostrils flared, but otherwise he made no other motion at the pain. He’d been in Mephisto’s clutches before, trapped in hell during a particularly bad attempt at defeating him, and Victor had not uttered a single sound, much to the Hell Lord’s mingled amusement and frustration. Doom was covered with scars from that. He was unlikely to give Mephisto anymore amusement in his nightmares now then he did then.
But Mephisto was sadist supreme, a creature who wouldn’t be frustrated if his mulish victims didn’t break. He could still cause them pain. His eyes lit up, cracking that pointy-toothed smile at Doom’s twitching jawline as the curse glowed where he had clawed the dictator--so long ago when he was a much younger man in an American university, foolishly seeking hell to free his mother’s soul.
“The deal’s the same, of course. I can stop this anytime.”
Victor didn’t say a word. To have the curse removed would mean the solstice would not permit him into hell. If that happened, he could no longer try to free his mother from the villain’s clutches. He reveled in the burn clawing deeper into his face while narrowing his eyes at Mephisto and smiling grimly.
“Tsk, tsk, stubborn to the end.” Mephisto grinned. “Well, don’t worry. I will not disappoint.” He motioned with his hands, and the cell disappeared in the dream, hell’s tortured souls screaming in Victor’s head. “You know, I might consider a trade… She’s getting worn out, that old soul of your mom’s. I could use a more challenging soul to break.”
“One pure soul for another?” Doom rasped. “I will defeat you and we’ll both be free of you, demon.”
“Pure? You?” Mephisto mocked. But when Doom turned his fierce gaze on him, the devil grinned widely. “Oh, very well, I concede. It is pure enough, and well, a trade of pure souls seems fair enough to me. Although your soul isn’t as sweet as many others. All those deeds of yours. I must say, I approve and applaud them.” He gave a few slow claps on his last words. “But let’s get on with the fun, shall we?”
Victor von Doom woke in his cell, slamming the back of his head against the wall, the curse on his face bright with heat and singing the bandages he kept around it. He took slow breaths to will the last of the nightmares away, then uncurled his fists.
Doom, after all, never became fearful or sad when it came to the demon. Doom was wired wrong. He always became angry. He glared at a Skrull walking past his cell, and wanted very dearly to snap its reptilian neck.
~~~ Present day ~~~
The translation program pinged. Victor von Doom immediately left his project to check it. With Kristoff’s help they had been able to set something into works to start logicizing the Skrull language. The usurping alien that had dared to impersonate him had left a number of notes, and now everything was starting to unlock. He drew up the program to look at the results. Some were still an enigma of symbols, but the rest he could make sense of.
The dictator tilt his head, curious, then reached to the side to tap at another screen, quickly drawing up specs and having one of his satellites change to fixate on a new position. “Now, what have you hidden there?” he mused to himself, looking at the image.
He spun away decisively, ordering two of the combat bots with him and having one of his jets prepared. Whatever the Skrull had hidden, he was going to find out what.