Who: Doctor Doom Where: Doomstadt When: May 10, 2015 (after seeing this ) What: Nefarious tempers and plots. Rating: PG
While Doom listened to the prattling of the men in charge of various functions of his country at the table, he was, as often was the case, looking at different feeds and picking at information mentally from within his mask. When things were very important, he offered his full attention. This arguing among the departments for how each's proposal would negatively affect their own (and how that would displease their present ruler) he was fine to garner some of his attention elsewhere. So he brooded and listened to see if they could make use of themselves. And oh, how aware they were of his judging gaze moving slowly from individual to individual at the table as they took the meeting floor and made their cases and points. They all knew he was a ticking bomb if they could not figure these matters out with some expediency.
Then something passed by in the news, and Doom looked sharply to the left, freezing the feed and drawing up the related items.
The poor delegates were unaware the fuse had already gone off, though one by one they felt it, some weight that pressed on them as though the very air were trying to smother them in a silent, seething rage. Each man sat down, looking quite ready for flight.
"Fools," Doom's metallic voice hissed. He stood slowly, and each man drew back just slightly, ready for if he was going to flip the heavy oaken table (it had happened a time or two before). "Show some competence in your fields and come to a conclusion for these matters." He leaned forward on the table, the wood creaking under his fingertips. "Or Doom will wring your necks."
Then suddenly he straightened, voice much lighter. "Stay all night, if you must." Then with a whirl of his cloak he marched out of the room, two doombots falling into guard at his back, leaving his council silent and shaken and looking to each other nervously.
Once down in his lab, Doom pulled up the larger screens, eyes flicking from babbling news story to news story, the reporters cackling like useless hens over the article of a Stark baby. People going "I knew it! Surprised it hadn't happened years ago..." and "It was just a matter of time..." and "Can an ex warmonger really be trusted to be a parent?" And so on it went. Doom had very little patience for it, watching for less than two minutes before he grabbed the nearest screen, gauntlet crushing into its edge, ready to rip it off and smash it as he had done with so many screens. "Fools!" he growled.
Then stopped. The screen was cracked through and the picture was fluttering with desperate electronic burps when he looked suddenly thoughtful. Then lowered his chin, a maniacal laughter dancing like fire in his eyes. "Fools..." he said more thoughtfully.
Then Doctor Doom laughed, releasing the screen and marching into the depths of his labs. "Fools!" he said, as merry of a villain as his lab has seen in some years.