Johnny Storm yawned as he circled the Latverian village. Borrrring! He had come with the others, hoping to get into action. He wanted to do something, anything, to forget about Frankie Raye. But he couldn’t shove her beautiful face from his thoughts. She haunted him every moment. Wherever he looked, he saw her.
Below him, he could see the Latverian farmers staring up in horror. Was he a demon? One of Doom’s treacherous devices come to spy on them? They turned from their flaming visitor and returned to their work. If he was with Doom, he would see them working hard. That would please their iron-clad master.
What I need, Johnny concluded, is to find someone my own age. Not everyone here is old. Or are they?
He flew lower over the small huts and saw a teen-ager tending a small private garden. The boy felt the heat on his back and turned to see Johnny Storm standing behind him. “Who are you?” He stared at Johnny questioningly. Latveria was a small country. No one was permitted entrance; no one was allowed to leave. Soon you learned who everyone was. This blond stranger was not one of them.
“Who are you?” he repeated. “How did you get in here? The gate was locked.”
Johnny flashed a smile. “My name’s Johnny Storm. From America. I was, uh, brought here by your leader.” The boy stared at Johnny. Then his eyes grew narrow.
“Go away. Leave me alone. I do my work. I do not want to be bothered.” He turned and ignored the stranger. If he came here with Doom, he belonged to Doom. It was best not to consort with Doom’s men. You could die that way.
But Johnny was persistent. “C’mon. I’m not with Dr. Doom. You don’t have to fear me.”
The youth turned again and studied Johnny. He was not like Doom’s men. He had an easy smile; his eyes showed no signs of evil. Perhaps he had been too hasty.
“I am Erich.”
Johnny extended a hand, but when Erich failed to take it, he let it drop to his side. “Erich, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find any girls around here. My age?”
The Latverian youth smiled. His fears vanished. With a nod, he bid Johnny to follow him.
Doom continued: “. . . and this is my royal chamber. The bed has been created especially for me. The linens are sewn here in Latveria by my handmaidens. The women among you will appreciate the finely spun cloth and the expertise of the seamstresses. Please, all of you, as you return home accept from me a sample of their work. I insist on it.”
Reed hung back, Ben at his side. “All appears to be normal, Ben. Too normal.”
The Thing nodded in agreement. “Hey, Susie ain’t come back yet. Ya think somethin’ happened?”
Reed suppressed a grimace. “Let me try to raise her on the belt radio.” His fingers fumbled with the switch as he moved from one frequency to the next. He clenched his teeth as worry overtook him. “She’s not answering, Ben. I don’t like this. None of this.”
Ben was ready to move. “That tears it, Stretch. I’m gonna squeeze that tin-can’s neck till he talks.”
“No, Ben. Doom won’t miss us if we split off from the crowd. Let’s check this out first. If we don’t find Sue, then we’ll confront him . . . and we’ll do it away from the others. I don’t want anyone hurt.” He saw Ben was grumbling The big man would love to tear Doom apart for any number of reasons. “Do you understand that, Ben?”
Ben hissed his answer. “I understand it, Mister. I just don’t have ta like it. That crumbbum an’ me go together like salt an’ a wound. Whenever I see ’im, I just wanna clobber ’im but good.”
“If we don’t find Sue, you’ll get your chance. I promise you that. Now, come on, we’ve got work to do.”
They ran through the corridor to where Sue had left them. Reed glanced down the hallway and said, “She could’ve taken either of those doors. We’ll split up. First one to find her, contact the other—immediately. And that means no fighting, Ben. I want the three of us together before we decide what to do.”
“Sure, sure. No scrappin’. I gotcha, Reed.” ’Course, if I just happen ta knock a few heads together ’fore I give ya the signal, what the heck, right?
The door Ben opened took him into a wide courtyard made of stone. Suits of armor stood in the wide archways. Long spears were at their sides. At the far end of the court, there were two mounted knights on stone horses.
Above him was a wide balcony, and a carved stone fence ran the whole distance around it. Directly over him a crystal chandelier hung in place.
To his back was the door he had just entered, and across the courtyard was the door he headed for.
“Blasted place looks like a blamed museum. How can that tin-plated tyrant live here? Ya can’t put yer feet up on a table when the blamed table’s prob’ly worth more’n you are.”
He heard a creaking sound come from behind him. He whirled in time to see a steel door slide in front of the wooden door he had come through. Another steel door slid in front of the door at the far end of the courtyard.
“So, we wuz right, Doom, wuzn’t we? Yer playin’ games with us? Well, yer crazy if ya think a little piece o’ tin’s gonna stop the ever-lovin’, blue-eyed Thing.”
Ben lumbered toward the far door. No use going back. As he reached the center of the court, he heard the squeak of steel grinding against steel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what was making the sound.
“Kiss my fanny. It ain’t possible.” The suit of armor closest to him creaked off its pedestal, its lance in its hand. “I ain’t asleep, and this certainly ain’t no knightmare.”
Stiffly, the armored form plodded toward the orange behemoth, its limbs moving more smoothly with every step it took. A second suit of armor leaped off its pedestal and lifted its lance for an attack.
Ben saw three more such suits move and approach him, slowly at first, but as each became more accustomed to movement, it speeded up, stepped more naturally.
“Awright, ya bozos!” Ben shouted at no one in particular. “Lemme see what yer made of.”
With astonishing speed, he grabbed the first suit. His powerful fingers closed vise-like on its arm. Silently, the living armament thrust its lance into Ben’s stomach. The steel crackled with raw energy. One thousand painful volts of electricity jolted their way through the Thing’s massive hand.
Instinctively, he fell back and dropped to the floor, grabbing his burning hand with his other. “Blasted thing’s hot-wired. Now what’ll I do?”
Ben heard the footstep behind him and he whirled as two lances smashed into him. His rocky hide sizzled and he yelped in pain.
Scrambling, he made his way to the far end of the courtyard. His deep blue eyes grew wide and horrified; ten suits of armor marched toward him, their lances ready for attack, their expressionless faces seeming to leer in ghoulish delight.
They paused and turned their armored heads toward the two corners of the room. At once, the two massive suits poised atop their stone steeds came to life. The horses reared, their legs clawed the air, and then they leaped from their pedestals and galloped toward the Thing.
That was the signal to begin.
They moved in.
And Ben felt the stone wall press against his back.
The door Reed Richards opened revealed a large, seemingly endless series of corridors that crisscrossed each other, came to abrupt dead ends, led back to their starting point, and proved to be nothing less than an intricate maze.
Reed stretched above the maze and saw at the far end an open door beyond which was a one-way mirror. Through the mirror Reed could see Sue. She darted in terror from flashing red lights that appeared for a moment, then vanished, only to reappear from another direction. He saw a beam flash across Sue’s forehead. She grabbed her head painfully. Blood oozed through her gloved fingertips.
“Don’t worry, Sue, I’ll help you. I swear I will.” Reed was frantic. Those lights were undoubtedly lasers. Doom was attacking her, but nothing could keep Reed from reaching his wife’s side.
Instantly, the ceiling buzzed with an electronic hum. Reed saw it lowering. He ducked back into his corridor and the ceiling came to rest atop the maze walls.
This was a game, then. A test. Doom had allowed Reed to see his wife facing almost imminent death. Reed would be anxious now, frightened for his wife’s safety—mad, perhaps to the point of throwing all caution to the wind. He wanted Reed’s veneer of scientific logic stripped away. He wanted Reed Richards dead, but he wanted him to die crawling like the peasant Doom thought him to be.
Reed Richards the scientist was now a trapped rat in a maze. His wife’s safety was his incentive to reach the end of the maze.
And now, to add some impetus to his efforts.
A gurgling sound like water rushing through pipes came from behind Reed. He saw a small grating in the wall of the maze about ten feet up from ground level. Then the water came gushing out.
Only it wasn’t water. Reed recognized the heavy overpowering stench, and it flowed slowly, viscously.
There was no doubt about it.
The liquid that came gushing toward him was—sulfuric acid!
He stretched instantly toward the far end of the corridor and followed its turn to the left.
Three corridors branched off before him. He remembered seeing them from above. One turned back upon itself. A second was a dead end. The third continued to another corridor and another and another. But, which was which?
Then the maze was plunged into darkness.
To Be Continued...Tomorrow at Atomic Kommie Comics
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