Twenty-Six
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Anna sipped her tea and listened as Johnny spoke. It was difficult to listen to the handsome young American, for her heart was leaping with joy at the news he revealed.
“We don’t know what happened to Doom. He just vanished within the mist. But he’s gone, and I guess that means your people are now free.”
Erich stood by the window, watching his fellow Latverians pass by outside, passing the word of Doom’s disappearance one to the other. He could sense a reluctant happiness out there. The people were happy Doom would no longer rule them, but they were also unsure what would happen to them next. With Doom they had more food than they ever had before. He supplied them with medical facilities that were far in advance of any other nation. He had made their life simpler than had the Barons who had ruled them for centuries. And now that they were free, they wondered if they really wanted their freedom.
“The people are confused,” Erich said sadly. “Latverians have not known freedom for so many years they have forgotten what the word means. Perhaps they fear they will now have to struggle to get what Doom gave them, but they will have earned their benefits; they will not have traded away their lives for a serving of vegetables. I have confidence we will succeed.”
Ben lumbered into Anna’s small home, slapping his hands in satisfaction. “I just polished off a couple o’ Doom’s robots. Now they ain’t nothin’ more’n a scrap heap o’ junk. I just wish they coulda been Doomsie himself. Stretcho, ya think he’ll ever come back?”
“I wish I knew, Ben. We only heard his part of the conversation. From everything I could garner, he had opened the door that separates life and death and then had the door slam shut behind him. Frankly, I don’t know what that means. I’m not sure if he’s alive, or what.”
Ben grinned. “Hey, so ya ain’t the big-brained genius I always thought ya wuz. That makes a gargoyle like me feel better. C’mon, why don’t we split now? I wanna get back ta the Big Apple an’ take Alicia out fer a big juicy steak.”
“I agree with Ben, Reed.” Sue walked toward the door. “I don’t like leaving Franklin for days at a time. It isn’t healthy for a child to grow up without his parents.
“Johnny, you coming?”
“I’ll be with you in a minute, Sis. Let me just say good-bye, please.” He waited until the others left. “Anna, I hope you can understand what we did and why we did it. I wanted to help your people, but I couldn’t—not the way you wanted me to.”
Anna put her hand to Johnny’s lips. “I can understand, John Storm, and now I can even agree with you. You see, now it is up to my people to make Latveria into the land we have always wished for. If we can be a strong people, we will survive. If not . . .” She allowed the thought to fade.
“But you have helped us so very much, John Storm. We will never forget you. I will never forget you. You have given us hope. What more could we have ever asked for?”
Without a word, Anna pressed forward and her lips touched Johnny’s. He drew his arms about her, held her firm in his grasp. Then they moved apart and Johnny smiled, then turned to join his friends. “Good-bye, Anna,” he said simply. “I will never forget you, either.”
Reed, Sue, and Ben were already in the limousine ready to take them to the airport and home when Johnny opened the door and stepped from Anna’s small home.
He knocked on the door and waited. There was no answer, but he could hear the shower running upstairs and knew she would be home. He sat on the stoop and thought about the past several days, thought about Anna, thought about Frankie Raye and wondered if she would be interested in going out with him again, but no longer on her terms. He would not disguise who he was, he would not pretend his super-hero side did not exist any more than he could pretend his powers did not exist. He was who he was, and there was nothing he could or wanted to do about it. He wanted Frankie Raye, he was still in love with her, yet if she was unable to accept him without special conditions, then he would have to say good-bye, and he would be alone and not at all happy, but he would not have compromised himself. He would not have thrown away who he was to pretend he was something else.
The door opened. Frankie peered through the narrow opening and smiled at Johnny. She undid the chain and opened the door fully. “I thought I heard the bell ringing. Johnny Storm, am I ever glad it’s you.”
“Huh? I thought you never wanted to see me again.”
Frankie Raye nodded. “You’re right, I thought so, too. But I’ve gone mad these past few days. I’ve called you every hour. I went to the Baxter Building but I couldn’t get inside. Johnny, oh, Johnny, I’m just so happy you came back. You didn’t know what I was thinking, how I was punishing myself for everything.
“You have to understand something about me, Johnny. I get very afraid sometimes. I’ve been alone for too many years, and when you walked into my life I thought I’d never have to be alone again. But then, well, when I learned who you were, what you were, I knew that someday you might go out and never return, and I’d be alone, and I just wasn’t able to cope with that.
“It wasn’t your problem, Johnny. It’s mine. And I don’t know if I can change, but, oh, God, Johnny, I want to try. I don’t want to lose you, and I don’t want to change you into something I don’t want. If you’re willing, if you’ll have me after everything I’ve said, will you come back?”
Johnny paused and said nothing. He just stared into her beautiful eyes for a long while. Then finally he grinned.
“How about a burger and some fries, kid? It’s not fancy, but it’s me all the way.”
“That sounds good to me, Johnny Storm. Sounds just great to me.”
Twenty-Seven
Boris sat in the darkness of the castle for a very long time, rocking in the old chair his master had given him many years before. Muffled through the windows he could hear the singing in the streets, the shouting of happy people. It had been so long since he had heard his people laugh.
He thought of his master and remembered him when he was young. He was always such a bright child, yet even then his destiny could be read in his dark, brooding eyes. His end would come by his own hand. That had been the prophecy, he remembered. His great pride would ever be his downfall.
Boris forced himself to stand. Then he rested a moment on his staff before moving on. He heard the rocking chair slowly creak to a halt, and he thought he heard his name being called, but when he turned he knew the sound he had heard was only the howling wind.
At the doorway he paused to catch his breath. He smiled, remembering his master standing young and proud in his Latverian lab months before fate first brought him to America. His mother’s diary was open on a table before him, his bright brown hair rolling in the gentle breeze.
“Nothing shall ever stop Victor Von Doom,” he stated then.
“With my diary and my resolve, all secrets will be revealed.
Not even death itself will be a mystery to me.
Indeed, faithful Boris, I swear to you now, the dark region of the shadows will never claim my soul. When the time comes, when the other world seeks me out, then I shall face my greatest challenge. Then I shall prove that Dr. Doom has even conquered Death itself.”
Boris turned from the room and hobbled down the long stone corridor tapping his cane before him. The wind rushed through the winding hall and Boris slowly walked to the window and drew the shutters closed. He paused and wondered what he would do now, where he would go, how he would live. This castle had been his home for so many years, it would feel strange not to live here still.
All his friends had died many years before; now he was alone, old and crippled.
He left the chamber and entered his small room. From the closet he withdrew a bag. It was small and torn, but there wasn’t much he wanted to take with him. He stuffed one shirt in the bag, folded in a pair of pants, and zippered the bag shut.
Wistfully, he smiled as he left the room, walking down the long corridors to the main entrance. Upon the walls were paintings of Doom: standing proud, hands on his hips, riding horses, greeting his subjects.
So tragic, so very tragic.
He paused again in the main chamber and stared at Doom’s empty throne. There will never be another like him again, he thought. Such strength, and such arrogance. Such brilliance, and so little compassion.
Doom could have been a great man, but now he would go down in history as a villain, one of the infamous in the same league as Khan, or Hitler.
Boris heard the wind howl his name again, but the shutters were closed tight, and no curtain rippled. He thought he could see Doom sitting in his chair, his heavy iron hands outstretched, beseeching him to come closer.
Boris shook his head. I am an old man, too old. Much too old. I should find a place to stay tonight, then lie down.
Then he heard his name called again, softly, like a shadow’s whisper.
And this time he knew he had not heard the wind.
The End???
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