by Marv Wolfman
Ben turned to the bartender and ordered two vodka gimlets, then returned to see the small man quaking before him. “Lemme see, here, I was just orderin’ a couple o’ drinks, an’ yer old lady called me a monster. The way I see it, she’s the one who scared me. Ya gotta understand, shortie, ta me, yer the monsters.”
The man backed off a foot and tried to shake off his fear. “P-please apologize to my wife. Look at her.” He puffed out his chest, regaining his lost courage.
Ben stepped closer to the man and stuck out a finger. It hooked the man under his collar, and effortlessly, Ben lifted him off his feet. “Tell ya what, baldie, how’s about we both ferget this before ya make me real angry an’ ya force me ta ferget this is supposed ta be a party. Understand?”
The room was silent now, all eyes turned toward Ben and his frightened adversary. Would there be a fight, even though everyone knew it would only last a fraction of a second?
Alicia spoke up. “Excuse me, Ben, I thought you were getting me a drink.” Ben nodded sheepishly. It had been years since he had become the Thing. By now he should have been accustomed to the horrific stares his presence elicited.
“I was doin’ just that, babe—then baldie, here, hadda go cause some trouble. Ya know me. I hate trouble.” Ben ambled over to the bench where five rather heavyset men sat. “Don’t get up,” Ben said as he lifted the bench and the men with one hand.
“Ya know how I just shrivel up when trouble comes my way, babe. Anyway, he was just gonna apologize an’ then we wuz all gonna go back ta havin’ fun.” Ben gently put the bench back in place. “Weren’t ya, shortie?”
The man nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again. I promise.” He looked back at his wife, glaring at him. Madeline would have to understand. He didn’t want to find himself dismembered. Not this evening.
Ben smiled. “I knew ya’d see things my way, guy. Tell ya what, the drinks’re on me. Awright?”
The man shook his head. “I’m giving up drinking. I don’t want to touch this stuff again. In fact, I don’t feel very well. I’ve got to go. C’mon, Madeline. We’ve got to go.” He tugged at his wife’s arm.
“But, Gregory, I—”
“We’ve got to go, dear. We’re selling the house tonight and moving to another state . . . maybe another country. Uh, good-bye. Nice meeting you all. Madeline . . . c’mon. Now!”
They left Madeline confused. Then Ben turned toward the crowd. “I said the drinks were on me—at least the first dozen. C’mon.”
Within moments, the joyous drone returned to the gymnasium. The band began its stirring rendition of “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?” And voices could be heard everywhere. The minor distraction was all but forgotten.
For one hour, the party continued, couples danced, old acquaintances were renewed, business cards were exchanged, and phone numbers were traded along with mutual promises of getting together soon.
Old flames came upon each other, men meeting women they had loved and left, women introducing their current husbands to old boyfriends. Embarrassing stories were dredged up; school songs thought to be forgotten were remembered and sung out of tune.
It was ten-thirty when Reed noted a commotion at the gymnasium door. There were crowds of men and women streaming to the door. “Something’s happening, Sue,” Reed said. “I’ve got to see what’s going on.”
Sue held him back. “It’s probably nothing, darling. Or maybe Ben’s getting into another ruckus. C’mon, introduce me to that stunning redhead who’s been giving you the eye all evening.”
Reed shot Sue a strange stare. “What redhead? I didn’t see anyone.”
Sue smiled cunningly. “I bet you didn’t. Confess, husband, was she an old girl friend you don’t want me to know about? I’m not letting you off the hook so easily.”
The commotion at the door continued. Then there was a hushed silence as Reed could hear Dean Collins’s voice coming from the crowd. “I—I don’t think you should come in here. You’re not—” Collins’s voice stopped abruptly.
It was replaced by another voice, a cold voice, one devoid of any emotion. It sounded harsh to the ear, rasping, as if it were mechanically filtered. “I was a student here, Collins. I demand entrance, and I will not be denied.”
Reed recognized the voice instantly. He had heard it many times in the past, and each time it filled him with dread.
He stretched his neck to the gymnasium roof to peer above the crowd. It was him. His worst fear had been realized. Of all of Empire State University’s students, he was not expected to show his presence here. Certainly not without fanfare. Indeed, Reed had not even known he was in the country.
The crowd parted, and the tall man entered. Then Sue let out a stunned gasp.
Majestically, powerfully, he stepped inside the gymnasium, knowing all eyes were now upon him, as well they should be.
The large hall seemed to shrink with the sudden and unexpected appearance of Empire State University’s most infamous student . . . DOCTOR DOOM—MONARCH OF LATVERIA!
Seven
Ben was the first to react. His powerful fingers ripped off his shirt and jacket, leaving them tattered rags upon the polished wooden floor. His pants split along their seams and became more useless rags. Now Ben was clad only in the blue bathing trunks that were his action dress. He felt comfortable this way. Comfortable, and free to move.
He shouted; his voice boomed like cannon fire. “Ya lousy, slimy tin can! How dare ya smash yer way in here?” With powerful leaps, the brutish Thing was at Doom’s side in an instant, and his massive hands grabbed Doom’s iron armor, but the Latverian leader stood stiff and still.
“Take your monstrous hands off me, you oafish clod. How dare you defile a true Monarch with your disgusting touch?”
Ben’s temper exploded, his right arm whirled back, and he formed a massive fist. “Ya tin-plated creep, I’m gonna make ya regret comin’ here!”
Suddenly, through the crowd, Reed Richards stretched his snake-like body, his arms elongating, his fingers curling around Ben’s fist. “No, Ben, don’t. He hasn’t started any fight. You can’t strike him.”
But nothing could stop Ben Grimm now. His fist flashed forward and pummeled the still-unmoving figure. “Monster, am I? Lemme show ya what kinda monster I am, tin-head!”
Ben clamped both hands together and whirled at Doom. The stiff figure rattled, and then his head jerked loose from his shoulders and flew across the suddenly silent crowd. “Whaa? I knocked off his blamed head. I don’t believe it.”
Ben stopped; his hands dropped like anchors to his side. His face took on a shocked expression. “I don’t believe it. I didn’t clobber ’im that hard. I know I didn’t.”
“Of course you didn’t, you stupid, senescient fool. Do you truly believe Victor Doom would allow himself to be so easily defeated by a monster with the mind of an infant?” Doom stood in the doorway of the gym and lifted the robot body that Ben had crushed from the floor. “I knew my appearance here would cause such a brainless display of violence. And Victor Von Doom abhors such mindles reactions. Perhaps now that you have vented your brutish anger, you can go sulk like a whimpering pup in the corner.”
“I clobbered a robot? That’s what I smashed?” Ben was still amazed, although he knew Von Doom’s evil genius could easily create an automaton far more elaborate than the one he had brought here.
Dean Collins stepped forward, pushing past Ben Grimm. “And you are still as arrogant as ever, Von Doom. I told you many years ago you were never to return here. That still has not changed.”
Von Doom tilted his head quizzically at the small man. With but a minor display of power, he could incinerate this fool. But this was not the time and certainly not the place. He had achieved a minor victory by forcing the brutish Thing to react. Now it was his time to act . . . but with kindness.
Vengeance would come later.
“Dean Collins, I was once a student here, and it is my wish to attend this reunion. Please beli
eve me, I have no wish to create trouble. I merely anticipated my presence here would create violence. My robot was designed to let it harmlessly pass, and then to continue celebrating the festivities.”
Dean Collins fumed. “Doom, I don’t like you. I never have, and I do not care if you did attend this school. I don’t wish you to be here now. Leave, or I’ll call for the police.”
Doom laughed and saw Reed Richards standing behind the crowd, his arm around his wife’s waist. “Richards, tell the man that would be a wasted gesture. As Monarch of a foreign nation, I have certain immunities from your law officials. Besides which, I have done nothing but attend a party open to all my fellow classmates.”
Reed was grim. Doom was right. Even if they could have him removed, which was doubtful, he could not be prosecuted. He enjoyed diplomatic immunity, and Doom used that immunity with pleasure.
“I’m sorry, Dean Collins, but we can’t do anything—not unless he attacks us first.”
Collins let out a low curse. “Damn it, Doom, so help me, if you try anything . . .” He sputtered, not being able to think of anything he could do to the younger, vastly more powerful man who stood arrogantly before him.
Ben stared at Alicia. “He’s playin’ some sorta game, babe. It ain’t like him ta play party.”
Alicia tightened her grip on Ben’s arm, and she spoke softly. “He is an evil man, Ben . . . his voice is harsh and wicked, and he talks with an arrogant attitude. He feels himself better than any man here. Please, Ben, don’t antagonize him. There is no depth to which he will not sink to destroy an enemy.”
With long strides, Doom stepped to the center of the room. Still nobody spoke. The utterly contemptible fools. Look at them, struck silent at my mere appearance.
“I have come here,” he announced, “to offer forgiveness to this university for its rash treatment of me. I understand my actions had caused them some minor grief. Indeed, it destroyed the face beneath this iron mask, so I, too, have suffered for my, ah, sins. But I am here in the presence of my former friends to end the bitterness that stands between us all. I offer a gift few men have ever been given. My castle and all its wonders and glories are yours. I propose that this celebration be moved to my home in Latveria, where you common people will be permitted entrance into the grandest of all the European empires. You will be personally escorted on a tour of my home, and you will be safely returned here Sunday night.
“There is no trick in what I offer. I guarantee your safety—and more, I guarantee you will all be well rewarded for your journey. You will see sights no American has ever seen before. You will witness the wonders of Latveria, and its proud people, who serve me so zealously.
“I offer this all to you, my friends, as a tribute to this university. Without my brief time spent here, I would not be a ruler among rulers today.
“To assure everything I say is true, I invite Reed Richards and his friends to join us. Surely their great power will guarantee that I mean you no harm.
“I have a fleet of my royal jets awaiting us at the airport. We will arrive in Latveria before noon. Tomorrow and Sunday are yours, a gift from your humble fellow student. What say you, my friends?”
Doom’s impassioned speech brought stunned silence. How to answer? Voices murmured in whispers between husbands and wives. A European trip, free? But what if he attacks us? But Reed Richards will be there. He wouldn’t dare do anything. How can we say no? Think of it: we’ll never be offered a personal tour of a royal palace again. Please, say yes. I want to go.
Ben Grimm stood firm. “I don’t know what yer up ta, Doom, but I don’t like it. Count me out.”
Reed Richards shook his head. “I agree, Doom. You’ve never made any effort toward benevolence before. What are you up to?”
Doom was waiting for this; indeed, he had prepared for this very speech. “Up to? My dear colleague, I invite you to join us. Would I do that if I were up to something? Bring along your wife and friend. I want to make amends for our previous encounters.
“I see you do not believe me, Reed Richards. Very well, tell me what I must do to prove I have changed my ways. I no longer wish to expand my power. Indeed, I have decided that little Latveria is enough for any one man to rule.
“I merely wish to benefit mankind from this day forth. If you come with me, I will throw open the door to my many scientific secrets. They will be made available for all mankind to study.
“What else do you want from me, sir? I capitulate, I offer no resistance, should you wish to battle and destroy me now. I have no weapons on me or hidden in my invincible armor. Search me if you wish. You will see I speak the truth.”
“Don’t do it, Stretcho,” Ben said. “He’s up ta somethin’ stinkin’. I can smell it.”
Yet Reed was unsure. Doom’s science was magnificent. To have it revealed to mankind would prove a terrific boon. “I will come with you, Doom, to safeguard these people and to see if what you say is true. But I won’t force Ben or Sue to join us, and if anyone else decides not to come, I want them to be able to leave here now, unharmed. Is that clear?”
“It is clear, my friend. Very clear.” Doom spoke without emotion, but he felt elation. The fools believed me. How easy it is to offer peace. How quickly they grasp at any straws of hope. And how devastating they will find it when they are instantly and ignobly destroyed.
Eight
From the street he looked like a comet streaking across the night skies. Red and blue flames seared the heavens as Johnny Storm headed up to Westchester for his date.
Up here in the sky, ablaze as the Human Torch, he felt free and at home. Nothing could stop him now; not even the sky was his limit.
He arced over the tall buildings of the East Bronx and saw the people far below, pointing up at him in shock and disbelief. Look up, down there, he wanted to shout out. I’m the Human Torch! THE HUMAN TORCH!
Let’s give ’em a show, he thought. A show only the Human Torch could create.
From his flaming fingertips came a ball of fire which shot rocket-like into the air above him, then burst into streamers of flame which cascaded downward, then evaporated before hitting the streets below. A second fireball erupted, then a third and a fourth. Now for the coup de grâce: with both hands wide, he circled downwards toward the ground, streams of flame licking the skies behind him. He abruptly turned and headed upward, curved at places, letting the flames streak longer behind him as he flew. In a moment he was done, and the flaming words “HAVE A GOOD DAY” lit up the night sky for miles in every direction. That’s something they won’t soon forget.
Frankie Raye’s house was a white split-level with amber-colored shutters, a wide garden, and a two-car garage. Garbage cans dotted the streets; the sanitation department would be out in force tomorrow.
The Torch landed, extinguishing his flames even as his feet touched pavement. He carried an asbestos bag across his back and removed a suit Reed had sprayed with unstable molecules. Even bunched up as it had been, it wouldn’t show a crease. He’d be able to knock on Frankie’s door tailored as impeccably as if he had arrived there in a limousine rather than flying comet-like through the skies.
Frankie and Johnny were lovers. The song danced through his head as Frankie Raye opened the door. She wore a paisley dress with short sleeves which were bordered with white lace, and off-green shoes which matched her purse. A green ribbon was tied through her blonde hair, and her straight white teeth flashed an irresistible smile. “You’re right on time, Johnny.” Her voice was warm, soft. “Where’s your car?”
Johnny bit his lip. “It’s in the garage, Frankie. I was hoping we could use yours. Or, better yet, how about staying in? I’ll order us food to be delivered.”
The smile faded from the girl’s face. “You flew here as the Torch?” She waited for Johnny to nod yes. “Johnny, you know . . . you’ve got to know how I feel about that. I—I dated you months before I learned who you were. I really like you, Johnny, perhaps more than I’ve ever liked anyone else. But
, God . . . I can’t take your being a super-hero. I hate it when you’re called away in the middle of a dinner to fight some ridiculous crime the police should be taking care of in the first place.
“Why do you do it, Johnny? Why can’t you be normal, a real person, like everyone else? Why, Johnny? Why?”
She paced the living room before sitting on the plump white couch. Johnny wasn’t sure how to reply. “I didn’t ask to become what I am, Frankie. You know that as well as I do. It was an accident, a cosmic joke that I’ve become the butt of.”
He saw Frankie was on the verge of tears. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to make her worries go away. Why did she fear him? What was there about Johnny Storm that made her cringe every time she thought of his being the Human Torch?
He sat beside her, took her arms, and held them with his hands. “Frankie, I love you. I’ve told you that before. I think you’re wrong, though. Yes, maybe I risk my life, but there are others who do that with less assurance of surviving than I do. Policemen take risks every day. Firemen march into blazes that could consume them at any moment. None of them have any special powers, yet they still go out and risk their lives day after day.
“Damn it, Frankie. Tell me what’s bothering you. Don’t hold it in. I have to know if this relationship is going to grow and get better. You’ve got to tell me what is coming between us. What’s driving us. apart?”
Tears rolled down her beautiful face and she took some Kleenex from her pocketbook to wipe them dry. She got up and walked into the kitchen where she took a pitcher of cold water from the refrigerator and poured some into a glass. “It’s everything, Johnny. You’re risking your life, you being who you are: a hero, the center of attention. It’s all that, and it isn’t that, and it’s a lot I can’t possibly explain, and maybe something I don’t even understand myself.”
She paused as she drank the water in a long, continuous gulp. Then she turned from the kitchen and saw Johnny standing in the doorway. “Maybe some people aren’t cut out to date super-heroes? Maybe I’m one of those people. And maybe, Johnny, maybe it’s best if we don’t see each other—at least not for a while. Do you understand?”
