by Marv Wolfman
Doom was frothing at the mouth, his voice raised to a fevered pitch. His eyes crackled with unbridled energy. “You insignificant little cretin, you fail to understand the power I now control. You cannot possibly comprehend the magnificence of my discovery. I possess powers undreamed of. I have seen the other side; I have crossed the vale into the land of the dead. And you actually have the tenacity to say you are going to stop me from completing that which I’ve only begun?
“Dolt! Ludicrous, moronic dolt—not even you possess that power. No one but Doom possesses the power.” His hands raised, his feet spread apart, the field of energy surrounding Doom began to spread wide and out.
It pushed through the other monoliths, and like the ripples in a pond continued to radiate outward from the center. Ben stepped toward the sparkling black cloud that swirled before him. He reached out to touch it. Instantly, he felt himself on fire. His hand grew numb; he froze as the cloud swept over him. His body was burning up. At any moment he would ignite and instantly crumble to ash.
“Ben! Get out of there!” Johnny swooped downward but saw Reed Richards wave him away.
“Don’t, Johnny—if you touch him you’ll be affected, as well. Sue, throw a skintight force field around me. It’s Ben’s only chance.”
Sue nodded and complied. A moment later Reed stretched toward Ben. He wrapped his elongated body around the orange-hided Thing from head to foot, then stretched toward a distant monolith. With all his strength he snapped his body forward, and Ben was whisked back, away from the field.
Reed shouted toward Johnny, who landed at his side. “Quickly, use your powers—siphon away the heat. If we can lower his body temperature before it causes any permanent damage, Ben has a chance of surviving.”
Johnny grabbed Ben’s arms and closed his eyes. “Ya gotta live, big buddy. Man, ya gotta live.”
Sue held onto Reed’s arm as they both watched the red glow that surrounded Ben begin to fade. Johnny was doing it. He was siphoning off the searing heat which was killing Ben.
As Ben collapsed to the ground, the others clustering about him, Dr. Doom turned once more to the trilithon. For a second time the sacred words were spoken, and again the scarlet haze filtered through the three portals.
He stepped inside, no longer content to gaze in wonderment. About him on all sides were the walking dead. He continued on through, passing the wretched and the worthless, pushing aside the useless and those who served not his purpose.
“Victor?” He heard the voice call him. Was it a trick? Was it that infernal Reed Richards again? He continued on and the voice grew louder. “Victor.” The voice was dark, ethereal, strange beyond recognition. Yet it came from within the land of the shadow. He pushed forward.
He stood before the man who smiled at him. “Victor, I knew one day you would come here, my son.”
“Father?” Doom stared at him, unsure what to say. “Father? I do not believe it. It can’t be you.”
“Why not?” the man answered calmly. “You came to the land of the dead. I am dead. You seek your mother, but I died more recently. It is only correct that you must pass me before you can reach your goal.”
“You know why I am here, Father?”
“You seek power, Victor. I know that. I have always known that, and I have always prayed you would not find it.”
“What? You want me to be a weak-kneed fool like the others? No, Father. You have changed. Or perhaps you forget how the Baron’s men killed my mother. Perhaps you forget that we fled from their tyranny, and you died because of them. But I have not forgotten that, Father. And I seek my absolute power to destroy all those who have both hunted and feared Von Doom.”
Werner Von Doom grew angry, his face contorted in the eerie glow. “No, Victor, it is you who have forgotten the truth. I always sought to help people. I would never raise a finger to cause any man harm. Your mother was the same, Victor. She used her powers for good, not evil. No, my son, we have not changed. You have. You have become evil, twisted. You are no longer my son.”
“You lie, old man!” Doom was shouting now, his face livid with hatred. He wanted to throttle the old one but found he could not. “All my life I sought vengeance on those who killed my parents. Now you dare to call me mad. Never! Never!”
Arrogantly, Doom pushed his father, but the older man would not move. “Do not stop me, Father. I want to see my mother. I want to hear the dark prayers from her lips.”
“She will not teach them to you, Victor. She, too, abhors what you have become. Accept the truth, Victor—return to your world and change your ways. There is time. There is always time while you still live.”
Doom raised his hands high; bolts of negative energy formed in a circle around them. “You are telling me that everything I have ever dreamed of is a lie, everything I have ever strived for is false. No! That cannot be. That must never be. No man, not even you, can tell me that!”
The negative force expanded. It enveloped Doom and spread to his father and cut through the scarlet haze that was everywhere. Doom’s voice, strong and powerful, became distant and muffled. “Everything cannot be a lie. I sought power for vengeance . . . now vengeance cannot be mine . . . no . . . no . . . I cannot accept that . . . I—”
“You are wrong, Victor; you sought your vengeance not for us, but for yourself. You wanted powers that should belong to no man. You make me ashamed that you were born of our flesh. Renounce your evil ways, Victor. Renounce them, or we shall renounce you.”
“Never, you weak-kneed old fool. If I was wrong about anything, it was my love for you. You were always a fool. A strong man would have fought back when the Baron killed his wife. But you, oh, you permitted him his fun. You said nothing as my mother died. Now, out of my way, Father, or, so help me, I’ll blast you where you stand.”
“Then do so, Victor. I will not move.” His father lowered his hands to his side and Doom raised his armored hand and unleashed a terrible destructive ray at the man he had worshipped for so many years.
The man crumpled to the ground, and Doom stepped past the spot where his father had stood a moment before. The contemptible fool. He was wrong about everything. But I still seek my mother. She will show me the way. She will tell me how Dr. Doom can rule this world.
The path before him was long and winding and it threatened to go on forever into the distance. But that mattered none to Dr. Doom. Nothing mattered to him now except the finding of his mother. She will help him. She will guide him to his ultimate triumph.
After all, she had named him Victor. How could victory elude him?
He continued along the path, disgusted at the peasants who walked somnambulistically beside him. What foul creatures these are, he felt. They were not fit to walk the same path his mother walked.
He saw her in the distance; her long white gown shimmered against the pale red mist. He called out to her. “Mother?” She turned, and he saw she was as beautiful as he had been told.
“Mother? Is that you?” Silently, she nodded.
“I am Cynthia Von Doom, Victor. You are my son, and the killer of my husband. Why have you invaded the serenity of my death? Why have you sought me out? Why do you not leave us alone? Have you not already disgraced the name Von Doom? Have you not made a mockery of all we had taught you? Leave me alone, Victor. Your father has already banished you. I do not wish to see you now, or ever. Go!”
“No! You cannot mean that. I, who have always called your name. I love you. I want to sit by your side and learn from you. You were a witch and I inherited your awesome power. Surely you cannot renounce my destiny—a destiny that you, yourself, created.”
Her eyes flared with fire as she spoke. “To be a witch is not to be evil. It is to possess power, and power can be used for good. You choose to use your power for evil, Victor. You made your decision yourself. Do not pretend that I gave you that legacy. Do not believe I wish you to be as you are.
“Look at yourself, Victor. Look at your face.”
Doom saw a si
lver mirror appear before him and his mask mystically opened. He saw the scarred battleground his face had become: a twisted, disgusting mockery of humanity. His hands flew to his face, he covered his ravaged features with his palms, but still the haunting visage appeared in the mirror. Still he could see his evil persona stare back at him in horror.
“You are as twisted and evil as your face, Victor. You have permitted yourself to die long before death had ever claimed you. Now, Victor, renounce your past. Now, Victor, change your ways. There may yet be time for salvation. Speak, my son. Tell the gods you wish to be a new man. Shout to all who can hear that Victor Von Doom is dead, and a phoenix shall rise from his ashes. Speak now, or forever face damnation.”
Doom’s bloodshot eyes were wide in horror as he stared at the woman he knew to be his mother. “You ask me things I cannot do. You should know that I am Victor Von Doom. I cannot surrender myself to such beliefs. No, mother, if you are truly her, and if this shadow land has not changed you, as it has my father, then you would honor me as I am. You would acknowledge that I have fought to be worthy of the name Von Doom.
“Our name was once spat upon by the Barons of Latveria. Now it is a name to be feared and respected. You cannot tell me I am evil, for I have read your diary. I know how you once thought. I spoke your dark spells as you once had. I am your son; you cannot deny me that.”
“Victor, I spoke those spells as a child. But long before I met your father, I renounced the ways of the black witches and dark sabbats. That diary was mine, kept to remind me of my awesome power and the evil it could cause. I relinquished that power. You embraced it. I am sorry, Victor, truly I am sorry. But there is no further use for us to talk.
“I cannot permit you to return to your land of the living and to wield your terrible power. I cannot allow you to wreck havoc on an unsuspecting mankind. You must remain here, where our forces will change you. You will see the truth, Victor. You will accept the truth as all men come to do.”
Doom stepped back, his hands outstretched, waving away the woman who approached him. He pushed through two walking corpses, and ran terrified along the narrow path. His mother followed behind him, walking slowly, yet never falling far behind.
Doom ran, his hopes, his dreams, all shattered. He damned his mother and father, and cursed this land of shadows, and knew he could stay here not a moment more. “I have mastered death!” he cried. “You will not master me!”
He turned as he ran. His mother was still behind him, arms beckoning him toward her. “Stay here, Victor. It is your only chance. If you return to your world, you will face horrors unknown to man. Remain here with us.”
He whirled and fired a terrifying blast at the beckoning figure. His mother smiled as the golden glow surrounded her. “I am already dead, Victor. I cannot die again.”
“No more than I could die, Victor.” Once more Doom spun, and he saw Werner Von Doom standing before him. “There was no way for me to hold you, my son. You had to see the truth. Your mother had to be the one to show it to you.”
“No! You lie! You all lie!” Doom slammed his hand into his father, but the man did not move. Sweat beaded down Doom’s face, stinging his still sore wounds.
“Allow your mother to hold you, Victor. You will learn.”
Doom struggled, but his father held him still. He saw his mother approach him. She lifted her hand and she smiled. He screamed as her warm hand descended on his iron-clad shoulder.
Beyond the wall of seething energy, the Fantastic Four could only stand and watch. Ben Grimm stirred and rose to his feet. Doom could be seen standing in the scarlet mist. Another figure stood behind him, a smaller, slender figure before him. They could hear Doom scream and struggle, and fight.
Ben tried to reach out, but Reed called him back. “Don’t—whatever is happening to Doom, we can’t affect its outcome. It’s not happening here. We can only observe it.”
“But what is it, Reed? I don’t understand?” Johnny shook his head in bewilderment.
“I don’t understand it either, Johnny. I don’t think any of us could hope to comprehend what’s happening to him now.”
Sue cried out. “Look—everything’s fading . . . it’s all disappearing. It’s as if it’s all over.
“And Doom’s being taken away—the mist’s covering him—he’s looking back at us, Reed. Look at him—look at his face. He’s calling to us. Reed! He wants our help. He wants us to grab him. Can’t we do anything, Reed?”
Reed shook his head. “No, Sue. This is beyond even our power. Doom unleashed forces that cannot be controlled. And now he’s paying the ultimate penalty.”
The scarlet mist covered Doom in a shroud of darkness. Suddenly the glow from the trilithon seemed to expand beyond the gateway. Crimson bolts shot out in all directions as the wind whipped through the Stonehenge monuments.
Reed cried out. “Grab onto a boulder—this is all coming to a head!”
Suddenly Stonehenge was caught in the throes of a hurricane. Johnny felt his body being torn from the stone he grabbed onto. Reed tied his legs about his massive monolith and stretched toward his young teammate. “Sue! We need you now—try to encircle us with a force bubble.”
The scarlet shroud seemed to blanket all of Stonehenge. Then, suddenly, there was nothing. The winds fell silent, and they saw the crimson color fade and sunlight stream through the trilithon. The dimension of shadows was gone, and it had taken Dr. Doom with it.
Reed fell to the ground weak, panting for breath. In the distance he could hear a tour bus turning into the parking lot across the highway. In a few minutes the first tourists of the day would come streaming over the Salisbury Plain, snapping photographs, gaping at the ages-old monument, wondering who had built it and what purpose it had served.
A few would see four tired, haggard figures stagger from the ruins and enter a private car which would soon take them to a distant airport. But none would ever know what had transpired here just moments before.
And another mystery of Stonehenge would be swallowed up by time.
Twenty-Six
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 t
he 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.
