Fifteen
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The Americans waited for the buses that would take them to the airport. The room was buzzing with excitement. Their trip had been everything Doom had promised and even more. They would have stories to tell their children and their grandchildren. Latveria may be a small country, but it was virtually a paradise.
Dean Collins felt humbled by everything he saw. Doom had used his genius to help his people. His castle was a veritable museum, a treasure-house of art. Perhaps, he wondered, had he been wrong about Doom all along? The man had been conceited once, but he was much younger then. Perhaps he had outgrown his earlier attitudes. After all, his deeds seemed to prove he had.
He glanced around, then saw Doom standing in the doorway. “Where are Reed Richards and the others?” he asked, worried.
Doom nodded. “My friends have decided to stay here a while longer. Dr. Richards wished to work in my laboratory. He decided to work with me on some personal projects.”
Collins was suspicious. That didn’t sound like Reed, not the Reed Richards he knew. “I’d like to say good-bye to him, if you don’t mind.” Something was wrong, Collins felt.
Doom bowed. “Dr. Richards asked not to be disturbed; however, I am sure he will not mind if you speak to him.” His hand pressed a button beneath a television screen. “This should buzz in the laboratory.”
The TV screen flicked on. Reed Richards’s face appeared. He smiled. “What is it?”
Doom gestured toward Collins. “Move closer to the screen. Otherwise, the camera cannot pick you up.” Collins moved in and felt relieved. Reed seemed to be all right.
“I wanted to say good-bye, Reed. Doom said you were lagging behind?”
Reed smiled. “His laboratory fascinates me, Dean Collins. He has several devices here that I’ve never seen before. I can’t leave yet, not until he shows me how they’re used. Ben, Sue, and Johnny are staying here with me. By the way, how’d you and Mrs. Collins enjoy the tour?”
Collins returned Reed’s smile. “We loved it. I’d stay behind myself if I could. But duty calls. Tomorrow I’ve got to be back on the golf green. Ah, retirement.”
“Enjoy your trip, Dean Collins. I’ve got to go. Good-bye.” The television screen flickered for a moment, then went gray.
Dean Collins turned to the others and said, “All right, what are we waiting for?” He put his arm around his wife and led her toward the first of the buses.
He hummed. He had misjudged Doom. A tiger can change its stripes.
Doom wrung his heavy iron-bound hands in satisfaction. The contemptible fool had bought it all.
In another room of the castle, technicians removed the Reed Richards rubber face mask from the faceless robot programmed to mimic Reed’s voice and mannerisms. It had functioned as perfectly as designed. But then, Dr. Doom had built the robot, and Doom never failed.
Sixteen
“Are you leaving now, sire?” Boris asked. The old man was seated in a chair next to Doom’s throne. Doom activated four viewscreens mounted to the wall of his private chambers. On the first he saw Johnny Storm, still unconscious, in a specially designed room which would prevent the youngster from using his accursed flame. When Storm revived, he would have a surprise in store for him.
The second screen revealed Sue Richards crouched in a corner of the catacomb, the lasers cutting a destructive path in every direction. Her energy powers would soon fade, and she would either be cut down by the death rays, or by the fumes from the poisonous candle.
Reed Richards’s plight was more amusing. He rushed blindly through the darkened maze, a torrent of acid about to engulf him at any moment. It would not be long before Doom’s longtime foe was little more than a burned-up cinder.
The final screen revealed Ben Grimm battling one of Doom’s robot knights. The monstrous Thing grabbed an electrified lance and tossed it aside, his hands burning with pain. The mounted knights chased him across the long courtyard. He wouldn’t escape. He couldn’t. Even if Grimm defeated his robots, as unlikely as that might seem, there were dozens more. Each one he destroyed would be instantly replaced. They would never tire, but already Grimm’s massive hands rose slower than they had before. His punches were less effective than they had previously been.
Doom flicked off the screens. His foes would be dead very soon. No need to linger. “Yes, I will be leaving, Boris,” he answered finally. “Is my private jet prepared for my trip to America?”
His old servant nodded slowly. “It is, sire. All is in readiness.”
Doom rose and left the room, and Boris hobbled after him. Doom was surely after something terrible, Boris thought. His actions these past several days had been carefully planned for months. But what was it Doom wanted? Not even his faithful servant Boris knew the answer. Doom wouldn’t reveal his plan, only that he was going to America, and that what he wanted was somewhere in the Baxter Building—the headquarters of the Fantastic Four.
And that is why he spent millions in luring the fabled foursome to his country under the guise of a tour for his old classmates. That is why he spent millions more preparing very special traps designed to capture and destroy his old foes.
But what Doom’s final objective was, only Doom knew.
Boris glanced at the calendar on the wall. Doom had said he wanted success on Walpurgis night—his birthday. That was tomorrow night.
Whatever it was Doom had planned would occur tomorrow, May 1.
Boris shuddered in horror. He intimately knew the details of Doom’s origin. He was able to guess at Doom’s secret. If it was what Boris suspected, even the heavens would roar in horror.
Doom turned toward his old friend. “You will look after the castle for me, Boris? Only you can I trust.”
Boris bowed reverently. “I will look after everything, sire. To serve you is my only desire.”
Doom left and Boris waited until the dull thud of metal boots striking stone steps finally faded. Then, when he could no longer hear anything save the crickets, he closed his eyes and fervently prayed.
Fantastic Four: Doomsday
To Be Continued...Tomorrow at Atomic Kommie Comics
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