The personal museum of Castle Doom was a cathedral of power, its vaulted ceilings adorned with intricate murals depicting the history of Latveria. Artifacts of silver and gold lined the walls: ancient relics, the last garments of Victor von Doom's parents before their deaths, swords with enchanted edges, hard-metal shields against magical attacks, and mystical objects with macabre histories. Each one hummed with latent energy, a testament to Doom's mastery over science and sorcery.
"Petra. Give me updates. What is the status of the state budget for these last five months?" The voice of the sovereign of Latveria filled the place.
Victor von Doom walked through the great hall with his hands behind his back, above his green cape flowing behind him. His armored boots echoed against the polished marble floor.
Behind him, Petra Karela followed at a respectful distance. She was dressed in a tailored black suit and skirt, her dark hair pulled into a professional bun, and black heels. A clipboard rested on her forearm, its pages filled with meticulous notes and calculations. She was the image of efficiency: loyal, capable, and completely dedicated to her master. In short, Petra was Doom's secretary of state.
"Master. They remain stable as always since the return of independence in Symkaria, but…" Petra sighed, pausing.
Doom stopped mid-stride, his cape settling around him like a shroud. He turned his metallic head, the hood covering it, toward her.
"But?" His voice was flat, expectant.
"There was a 40% loss in this last two-month period." Petra sighed, a rare sign of hesitation.
"Normally we lose between 10% and 15%," Doom stated firmly.
"The cause comes from the explosion of the three Doombots valued at 300,000 Latverian francs and the reconstruction of the northern zone of Doomstadt. Remember that incident in broad daylight a month ago. The expenses on medicines and treatments for the affected. Finally, the repair of the two balloons and their armored weaponry, the forest restoration of the area affected by the fires caused by the explosion of the balloon bases five days ago, the feeding of the affected animals, and the maintenance of the cosmic cannons in the surrounding areas." Petra explained in detail.
Doom's jaw tightened under his mask. His mind immediately went to Diana: her desperate escape attempt, her struggle against the chains, and her defiance against his power. Now he was dealing with the consequences caused by her.
"It cost me more than she will ever know."
On the other hand, the Doombots that had exploded a month ago were due to his illness, a constant reminder of his mortality.
He still felt a faint tremor in his chest, a reminder of the curse that gnawed at his soul. The exploded Doombots were not just a financial loss; they were a symptom of his weakened condition because they were connected to his being.
He dismissed the thought. There would be time to address that later.
"How are the affected ones?" He asked, his voice carefully neutral.
"They are still undergoing treatment, Master. Most are improving; others are worse. Fortunately, there are no human losses." Petra said calmly.
Doom nodded slowly with his gaze. He had not shown Diana the emergency room during the tour. He had believed it would affect her, that she would see the injured as evidence of his cruelty rather than his protection. It was an accident he had not foreseen, further embittering his pride. He was not in a condition for her to turn against him.
"Good." He said simply, turning his head forward.
He continued walking. Petra followed behind him. They passed through the great doors of the museum and down a long corridor where the portraits of Victor's parents looked at both of them as if they were still alive.
"Were there any developments during my absence at the New York embassy?" Doom's voice was casual, almost conversational.
"Well, a recent incident. Precisely four days ago. The woman called Black Cat stole a pile of our jewels, valued at 800,000 Latverian francs in the early morning." Petra's heels clicked against the stone floor. "There are expenses in repairing the Doombots affected by the ambush of the platinum-haired woman. The next day, the hero called Spider-Man appeared returning the jewels to their respective place."
"That man never stops surprising even the lower ranks of Doom." Doom's mask tilted slightly.
There was a hint of dark amusement in his voice, a rare moment of reluctant respect for a hero who, despite his annoyance, had proven useful.
They continued climbing the tower in the southern part of the castle. The spiral staircase wound upward, its stone steps worn smooth by centuries of use. Torches flickered in iron sconces, casting dancing shadows across the walls.
"Have there been any appearances of the damned Fantastic Four?" he asked, raising his voice a little.
"Not at all, Master. Your archenemies have not appeared in these last months." Petra shook her head.
"Let them not dare to appear. I do not want to see them again." Doom whispered, his voice low and cold.
"Lord Doom. Zora spoke to you about the visits of your goddaughter." Petra's voice was careful.
"I know. Zora told me. I know about her three visits. I contacted her." Doom's pace did not slow.
"Master, you should know that she reappeared early two days ago, but Zora rejected her kindly."
"She misses me. A child's game." Doom thought.
"But that same night, a Doombot was malfunctioning. We discovered that two pieces were missing." Petra pulled him out of his thoughts.
"Two pieces?" Doom stopped walking. His voice was flat, without turning to look at her.
"Two of the six cores that make up the robot's structure. Zora informed me that someone stole them. The cameras and the other Doombots did not capture the precise moment. Neither did she." Petra sighed.
Doom's mind connected the loose ends. An intelligence high enough to understand the structure of his Doombots.
"Tch! It cannot be…. Valeria… that girl is going to become my little demon."
His mind immediately went to his goddaughter. She had always been intelligent, too intelligent for her age. Valeria Richards was not a typical child. She was brilliant, ingenious, and determined, capable of rivaling her own father. If she had taken the cores, she was building something, something that could lead her to him.
"Let her try… I hope she does not talk too much with that miserable father of hers." Doom sighed mentally.
They both reached the top of the tower, where a wide window overlooked Doomstadt. The city stretched out below them, its lights flickering in the gathering dusk. The Carpathian Mountains loomed in the distance. The afternoon sun was present before them.
"Has there been any suspicious movement from Symkaria in Latveria since our last meeting months ago? Spies?" Doom asked, leaning on the stone railing.
"There have been no movements from them. No spies were detected. It seems they are following our new non-aggression agreement after young Kristoff's resignation from the former Southern Latveria." Petra denied.
"That boy never stops disappointing me." Doom's voice hardened.
"My lord. I understand your effort to invade Symkaria, but I think you should have reconsidered such a hasty choice. Kristoff was not prepared." Petra hesitated.
"Petra, are you telling me things I should have done?" Doom turned toward her, his masked gaze cold and inflexible.
Petra's face paled.
"Forgive me, my lord…" She bowed her head, her voice trembling slightly.
"Calm yourself, Petra. Your loyalty toward me is enough. Likewise, Zora. You have served me well. Both of you are not like the traitor von Bardas." Doom's voice softened, almost imperceptibly.
"I appreciate your words, Master." Petra looked up, relief flickering in her eyes.
Doom nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the view. The city below was peaceful as always.
"Have any SHIELD spies been detected on the borders?"
"We located two, but they were forcibly removed from our territory. There was no presence of the Russian woman called Black Widow." Petra said dryly.
Doom had already anticipated that SHIELD, sooner or later, would realize his assault on Nick Fury's helicarrier, of the object he stole. The wind battered them for several minutes.
"Master." She broke the silence with a gentle voice. "Could you explain to me why there is a new update in the budget that appears eight days ago."
"Expenses for the upcoming wedding of the young couple whose son I saved. My godson." Doom's voice was calm, measured.
"Wow. I see that you still retain a noble heart inside, Lord Doom." Petra's eyebrows rose slightly.
Doom tilted his head without saying a word. There was no need for explanation. His actions spoke for themselves.
"Lord Doom. Do you still miss my father?" Petra hesitated, then spoke again, her voice softer.
Doom's gaze remained fixed on the horizon, without looking at her.
"I do, Petra. He was a good man, after all." His voice was low, almost distant.
"He was a great father, but he was stubborn. He did not want to be saved. Do not regret his death." Petra smiled weakly.
"I respect his decision. He chose his path. Doom thanks him for adopting me from that snowy day, buried in my father's body. And for being a witness to my rise. That old man." Doom's voice was quiet.
"After living so long, his stubbornness was his downfall. After all." Petra's voice was soft.
Doom still remained silent for a moment; the memory of Boris Karela stayed in his mind. The man who had taken him in, raised him, and taught him the value of loyalty. Doom had not saved him. It was the man's choice. But there was no place for sentiment in the present. Victor pushed the thought aside.
"Has there been any new call from Atlantis since the last meeting with Zora five days ago?" He asked, his voice returning to its usual dominant tone.
"Zora did not tell you?" Petra asked. "King Namor has been insisting on seeing you soon in that meeting with her, wanting to know the reason for your absence. Zora covered for you, giving him the same excuse as always that you have been looking for ways to conquer the world."
"She has not. That girl has been distracted lately. Anyway, contact him. Tell the fish-man that he is invited to a personal dinner with me, in six days."
"Perfect." Petra nodded, making a note on her clipboard.
Doom did not hear her words, observing the Carpathians. His mind was now elsewhere, on Diana Prince, the Amazon woman from the other universe. His future consort and mother of his next heir.
The ruler of Latveria had conducted the small tour to show her that he was not a simple kidnapper of women from other universes. He had made her reveal his ideology about the world, the center of Latveria and its history, brief information about his deceased parents, and the general rules of the country. He had taken her to the family of the young couple in the cabin so that she would become accustomed to being with babies. She needed to be prepared for her future child. Victor knows that her heroism caused babies and mothers in short order. What he was doing was different. Nothing of heroism, only selfishness.
Furthermore, Doom had not felt anything from the first feigned kiss with her, the evidence of the union between them before Mirela and Andrei for now, until she completely fell before him. He would conquer her in his own way, with his verbal manipulations, not with the inefficient methods that mortals used. Doom was effective.
On the other hand, Victor von Doom did not expect her to have such strong panic attacks, remembering her ex. That woman was weak, living in the past. Doom made her believe that she lived in the present. Besides, he did not foresee that part of him would like the touches on her body; it was rare for him due to a certain admiration for Diana's intimate parts and enjoying the blowjob he forced her to perform in the laboratory. He could not deny that it was working, but he hated to admit it.
"Do not give credit to that woman from the book. Everything was calculated only by you." His mind was an affirmation rather than a doubt.
On the other hand, he had consoled her in Doom's way when she broke down crying and confessed what she had not overcome, a wound she did not want to reveal. From the very Wonder Woman, the exemplary heroine of her own universe. But Doom had managed to extract it in one day, thanks to his handling of her emotions. He did not expect her to hug him tightly and kiss him deeply this time, a second kiss. Doom would normally reject it violently and send her to sleep. He is not a man of feelings for someone, or for someone he is just getting to know. But his hidden part, inside his own magical and demonic armor, the little human in him whispered that he liked it. Not comparable to Valeria Karela and Wanda Maximoff, but close.
The Amazon had not left the room where she was staying since that kiss, except for the showers. He had not gone to look for her; she needed her space. He thought that she did not want to know anything about him. Doom understood that; he hoped her tantrum would pass. He had sent his robots and especially Larin to bring her breakfast, lunch, and dinner, but she rejected all of them without saying a word.
"She seems like a depressed child or teenager. Valeria and Layla never suffered from that."
Diana was wounded. And wounds needed time to heal. She had indirectly accepted being the mother of his future child. A spectacle for Doom.
"My lord, why are you so thoughtful?"
He was pulled from his thoughts by Petra's voice, curious and probing.
"Planning what to do to Mr. Fantastic when I meet him again." Doom's voice was flat, dismissive.
Petra's expression was skeptical, but she let it pass.
"All right, Master. Excuse the curiosity, but you did not explain to me in detail who caused the disaster of the balloons. Zora told me it was a foreign woman. She called her the Tall Slave."
"The Tall Slave? I see Zora did not waste time with nicknames." His mask tilted slightly.
"She also gave her the nickname the Tall Whore." Petra's voice hardened.
"That is correct, Petra. I agree with Zora." Doom's voice was calm, almost approving.
"Then it is true. Where is the slave?" Petra's eyes narrowed. "I did not see her in one of the basement dungeons. Have you executed that woman?"
"She is in a guest room on the fifth floor." His voice was flat, returning to look at the horizon below.
Petra blinked, clearly surprised. "But why do you keep her here? Shouldn't you punish her for what she did?"
"I already did. She learned her lesson. She will not do it again. Besides, I tell you, she will live here." Doom's voice was calm, patient.
"What?" Petra's voice rose slightly. "I did not expect you to show hospitality to that woman who caused a disaster. Why are you doing this, Master?"
"She is helping me with something important that I will tell you about next." Doom's voice was measured.
"Understood. Zora also told me that she was called Dana…" Petra's brow furrowed.
"Diana." Corrected the sovereign of Latveria.
"Diana…" Petra repeated the name, approving it. "Ah, a pleasant name. On the other hand, Larin told me that you prepared a special dinner and a tour of Doomstadt for a mysterious woman. People say they saw you with that tall woman, too accompanied, Master. I suppose it is the same woman?"
"I see the rumors have spread very quickly. If they spread outside the country, those responsible will be executed." Doom hardened.
"Very well, my lord. What is the reason you have that woman?" Petra nodded, her professional demeanor returning.
"My son told you something about her. I saw him when I passed through the Werner Academy with her."
"He told me today that you were having a good time with that strange woman, nothing more."
"I must believe that at least he approves of her." He stated serenely.
Petra blinked, processing his words. She understood what he meant. Her eyes widened slightly as the implication sank in.
"What do you mean, Master?" She raised her voice a little in surprise. "Do not tell me that she is your…"
"Not yet. I am working on it." Doom's mask tilted toward Petra, keeping his voice calm.
Petra's face lit up with genuine joy. She clasped her hands together, her professional demeanor momentarily forgotten, without dropping her clipboard.
"Finally! Good, my lord. Now I see why you did not execute her. I wish you luck. Hail Doom!" She said in a tone that could not be real.
Doom raised a hand, his voice dropping to a lower, more private tone.
"Petra, do not tell Kristoff and Zora about this. It feels… embarrassing for my position. I will tell them at the appropriate time, once she fully accepts me."
"You have my word, Lord Doom." A smile crept back onto her face. "Wow, I have never seen you so romantic."
"I do not believe it either." He whispered, turning his metallic head, wanting to hide his own response.
"At some point in my life, I hoped that you would fall in love and choose the right one, a loyal companion. May I mention her, Master?" She asked with respect.
Doom nodded, giving her permission, without being bothered.
"I still share your bad memories with Magneto's daughter. I hope it does not turn out the same way this time." Petra's voice softened.
"This time will be different. Doom does not fail." Victor was firm.
"Do you plan to marry her?" Petra tilted her head, her curiosity awakened.
"Petra…" Doom's voice was soft, almost vulnerable.
"Really? I am proud of you, Lord Doom. I will pray to your image so that everything turns out as you are planning."
Doom believed that this time would be the definitive one; this time he was above the terrible anecdotes, the failed political marriage with Princess Lenka of Symkaria of that time and the strategic marriage with Wanda Maximoff. Without the Avengers and the Fantastic Four in his path. Not to mention this Justice League.
"Master, I thought you had already convinced Dr. Fruz…" She smiled, understanding his tacit response.
"Do not even mention that name." He spoke with annoyance.
Petra nodded.
"Doom found someone better." He continued.
She smiled at that. She loved the idea of her master Victor von Doom having a happy ending, but his character sometimes prevented it.
"Dana… I mean Diana has powers? Is that why she was able to take down the balloons?" Petra's brow furrowed.
"She is not from here, from this universe. She comes from another. She is a demigoddess."
"What? A demigoddess? From another universe?" Petra's eyes widened, her voice slightly raised.
"I brought her here, in my own way." Doom's voice was calm, in fact.
Petra's face paled slightly. She fidgeted with her clipboard.
"Is she in agreement to be here? Because of what she caused, I must understand that she was trying to escape." She was nervous.
"She is fine here. Diana had a panic attack that I managed to calm." Doom's voice was reassuring.
"Understood, Master. I hope you do not make more enemies." Petra swallowed.
"Doom will take care of them." He affirmed.
"Let us end this conversation here. Understood. Please keep in mind what you are doing. I do not want, and you will not want, another invasion of people with powers over Latveria." Petra nodded, her professional demeanor returning.
"Everything is calculated. Never doubt me." Doom understood the weight of her words.
"Perfect." Petra nodded, relief flickering in her eyes.
"Speaking of superpowers, how are the lads?" Doom's voice changed, returning to another matter.
"They are improving in the control of their powers. They are responding well, following the instructions during their training. Young Hugo has already completed the process of entering the dreams of third parties." Petra reported.
"I will go see them tomorrow. I will train them personally now. I want them at 100%. I do not want Charles Xavier and his partner to snatch them from me again." Doom stated.
"Understood." Petra made a note on her clipboard.
"How are your children?" Doom's voice softened slightly.
"Well as always, Lord Doom. They send you greetings." Petra smiled, warmth creeping into her voice.
"I will send them gifts." Doom tilted his head.
"Thank you. Hail Doom." Petra nodded, her voice firm and loyal.
///
Sunlight filtered through the heavy curtains of the guest room where Diana Prince was staying in Castle Doom, painting long golden stripes across the stone floor and the edge of the large bed. It was a bright day, yet the room felt sealed off from the world.
Diana sat on the mattress and sheets with her legs folded forward, a long red pajama covering her from wrists to ankles. She still retained red, tearful eyes; she had chosen voluntary isolation for six days after what had happened between her and the ruler of Latveria that night. It seemed like a kind of quarantine against a new virus, but the virus was von Doom and his world.
She refused to call it depression. But the truth was heavier than the silence.
"I kissed him. I kissed him again… and I clung to him as if he were…" Diana swallowed.
She had kissed him for the second time in the same day. She had lost control again. In the heat of the moment, with his hands on her body, that low metallic voice working under her defenses, she had lost her composure. Worse was her embrace of him and curling against his chest as if she belonged to him.
She could still feel the pressure of his mask against her mouth, the way her body had responded to the kiss as if it had been waiting for him. She hated that he had enjoyed it. She refused to admit that part of her had enjoyed it too.
His touches had done something that no other villain had achieved. Darkseid and his Furies had broken her bones and tested her will for much of her life. No true tears. Doom had made her cry more than once in a single day. That knowledge burned.
"What's wrong, little princess? Do you need someone to save you?"
Diana recognized the female voice in her mind.
"Circe?" She spoke to the empty air.
"Seeing you in this situation, so vulnerable. A spectacle for my eyes. You couldn't handle the man in the mask. He has you well bound."
"Get out of my head, witch." Diana shouted, closing her eyes in annoyance.
"That man is a good match for you, little princess. Comforting you. So far from your native Earth. It's better for me, without your presence. I will set my plans in motion on your precious island. Now yes, I will kill your mother and your sisters for all the damage they did to me."
"Nooo! You are not here. Not even in my head. I will stop you if you try." She shouted, hitting the mattress with controlled force, without breaking the furniture.
Diana had been having hallucinations and nightmares with her respective enemies where they all defeated her and mocked her emotionally. They were not real. They would not be here. These nightmares had manifested throughout her time of isolation.
She remembered something more unsettling that she had done, in addition to the kiss. Another reason not to see von Doom again. Then she opened her eyes.
"I accepted… indirectly…. to be the mother… of his child… and to be his…. wife… I accepted…" She cursed.
Those "thank yous" she had said were her confirmation. That thought came and went like a fever.
Sometimes she regretted it with fierce clarity, preferring to create children from clay on Paradise Island as her mother Hippolyta had done with her, but her gods would not listen to her because it was purely a whim of hers.
Other times, a strange and quiet satisfaction rose over her. She floated between the two states, trapped in a trance she could not name.
"Steve rejected a family with me…. Doom offers me one…"
Diana preferred to push the thought away and moved on to the sweet dreams she had had during this time, not the nightmares.
Her deep sleep had shown her that she was in New York or sometimes in Washington D.C., performing her everyday heroism, saving human lives, stopping common criminals, preventing traffic accidents, and helping elderly people cross the street. On the other hand, as Diana Prince sculpting historical figures and exercising her profession as a curator and antiquities specialist in various museums.
Besides, her training with Cassie with swords, fighting seriously. Teaching Yara the handling of the bow and arrows. Her at Zatanna's live magic shows. Having strategic conversations with Clark and Bruce at the Watchtower. Discussing personal and political topics with her mother on Paradise Island. Everyone was in her mind. She missed them. She was alone.
"I am not alone. Larin comes every day. He knocks on the door, invites me to breakfast, to dinner, and I reject him. I am rejecting the only good person in this place."
She regretted it, knowing she was rejecting the only available presence for her. But she could not look toward the outside of this room, except for the few times she went to bathe.
The monk had been kind to her. He had guided her through the castle, shown her the bathroom, listened to her questions without judging. And she had repaid him with silence.
"I am sorry, Larin. I am sorry for not having been strong enough to face the world again."
She did not want to see Doom's image, hear his name, or risk another encounter with him that could strip away more of her determination.
The masked man, for his part, had not forced the door during this time of isolation. He had not come since that night. She had not seen him on her limited escapes to the shower either. She did not know if that was kindness or strategy. Perhaps both.
A knock sounded on the door.
Diana did not move. She did not speak.
Another knock. More insistent this time. It did not seem to belong to Larin, nor did she hear his voice.
She closed her eyes, hoping whoever it was would disappear.
The knocking on the door continued. Desperate.
"Damn it. Von Doom. It must be him."
Another knock reached her ears.
"What do you want, disfigured man?" Her anger erupted, hot and immediate. "I do not want to see you. Go back where you were."
The door opened without permission. It did not show Doom.
A tall servo-guard stood in the doorway, his metallic frame gleaming in the afternoon light. In one hand he carried a metal box, looking like a cooler. In the other, a large metal flask.
"Tell your master that I am not in the mood to see him!" Diana's anger did not fade.
"I regret interrupting your privacy, my lady. The master is not in the castle, but he instructed me forcibly to leave these two for you. They are from the master for you." The robot's voice was monotonous, mechanical.
"I want nothing from that bastard." Diana's jaw tightened as she sat on the edge of the mattress with one leg hanging. "Get them out of my sight."
The robot did not react to her words. It simply stepped forward, placing both objects on the floor. Both objects had a stand. It activated a button on the metal box and the lid opened with a soft hiss.
Diana's eyes widened.
The box was filled with scoops of ice cream and a spoon on the side, neatly arranged, their surfaces gleaming with a faint frost. Strawberry ice cream. Her favorite.
The flask opened to reveal a bouquet of red roses, their deep crimson petals, their stems wrapped in green paper. The aroma of the fresh flowers filled the room, too familiar, a stark contrast to the stale air she had been breathing for days.
"He knows. He knows that I like roses. He knows that strawberry is my favorite ice cream… I must assume from his research on me."
Diana stared at the offerings, her mind reeling.
"The master told me that you should accept them; if you do not, he will destroy me. You would not want him to get angry with you." The tall robot exclaimed.
The robot walked toward her; it reached into one of its built-in pockets and produced a small roll. It extended its metallic hand for her to take it.
She unrolled the note. Opening the note, it was actually a parchment. The writing was elegant and precise, unmistakably Doom's.
I hope you like them, Diana. I investigated that both are your favorites. If you refuse, you will have to deal with me.
Diana looked at the words, her emotions a tangled mess of anger and confusion and something else. Something she did not want to name.
"He threatens me by offering me flowers and ice cream. How romantic on his part… I have never seen that in my life."
"The master told me before leaving that if you need to refresh yourself, you can use the guest pool in one of our basements. I will return in an hour for you to confirm to me." The robot's voice broke her thoughts.
The robot turned and walked toward the door. It stopped on the threshold. Its metallic eyes on her.
"The master also told me that he will return later. He wants you to show your royal beauty today. Make yourself as beautiful as possible. Wear the dresses that suit you best."
"For what?" She asked.
The robot closed the door without answering her.
Diana was alone again.
She looked at the ice cream. She looked at the roses. She looked at the parchment still gripped in her hand.
She wanted to throw the ice cream against the wall. She wanted to burn the roses. She wanted to scream in the empty room.
But she did not; she sighed with resignation. She was hungry; her stomach growled after almost a week of fasting.
"He is winning. I cannot help it."
Diana got off the bed, approaching the position of the objects, crouching. The ice cream smelled good; she was going to try it. On the other hand, the smell of the roses was so familiar, too familiar. Her eyes confirmed it, the color and the texture. She delicately touched a rose; she felt it. She had no doubt.
"By Hera. That damned man, these are the roses from my mother's garden. I am going to kill him!"
///
A corridor stretched before Victor von Doom, its stone walls lined with Latverian flags. His armored boots echoed against the polished floor as he walked, his green cape flowing behind him. The air grew warmer as he approached his destination, carrying the faint scent of dust and sweat.
He arrived at the entrance of a small coliseum, a training arena carved as if it were the center of Doomstadt. The structure was ancient, its stone walls worn by centuries of use. The heat of the sun was present in all its splendor.
Doom stood at the edge of the arena, arms crossed, his masked face tilted downward. Below him, several figures waited in the center. Their features were not clearly visible due to the shadows cast by the sun.
"It is time to train, my lads." Doom's voice echoed through the chamber, commanding and resonant.
The figures below shifted slowly, their bodies tensing with anticipation. They knew what was coming. They had been waiting for this moment.
Doom descended the stone steps, his presence filling the arena like a storm cloud. He reached the arena floor and stood in front of the figures, his gaze sweeping over his surroundings.
"Today, you will learn what it means to serve Latveria. Today, you will learn what it means to serve Doom."
He raised his hand and the training began.