principle-of-vengance-blog

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

Doom silently regarded the men and women in the room. His eyes measured their facial expressions, calculated their breath rates, monitored their fidgeting fingers. On the displays in the corners of his vision he could check and be sure all of this was being recorded for future study. No information is worthless, and if knowledge is power then Doom would pry every last bit of data he could from these lowly politicians. A single bat of an eyelash could betray, the flicker of someone checking Twitter under a desk could end a career. No information is worthless and you never know when you’ll need to bury someone. 

Summers was an interesting speaker at least. He stirred more from these groggy law makers and committee members than half of the morning’s proceedings. It was quite the show, not only on stage but also the people around him. The rise in tone made him quirk an eyebrow though. Since when were mutants more distasteful to the rabble than himself? 

With a grumbling sigh he rose to his feet. The council was still murmuring in decent and sneering down their noses. He narrowed his eyes. “Doom will not be ignored by you squabbling apes.” 

He slammed his gauntlet down on the table hard enough that a loud clang  boomed through the hall and left ears ringing. He waited for the silence to settle around him before standing to his full height.

“Barbaric simpletons. Of all the crises that face the world today, of all the warning signs that the worst is yet on the horizon, THIS is what you fear?” He pointed down to the slim man at the podium. “Why are mutant rights even an issue up for discussion? The planet’s climate spikes, humans starve, disease runs rampant and education is denied to children across the globe and THIS is what we dedicate precious time to?”  He walked from his table and looked Scott Summers over appraisingly. 

“Do you know what we call a mutant child in Latveria Mr. Summers?” He tilted his head to emphasize the rhetorical question. “We call them a citizen. No different from any other. I don’t believe the United Nations should argue mutant rights because that would imply they had any authority to strip your rights from you. I can assure you that your worth is not determined by the likes of these. Their only job is to be popular enough to sit in these seats for another four years.”

Kings of Promise// Scott & Doom

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

He holds up his hands almost to shield himself from the onslaught of her bubbling energy. She’s going much too fast and he’s had far too little sleep and coffee to completely follow. From what he gathers she has the barest inkling that he exists but it’s abstract to her. He may as well have introduced himself as a martian or superman. It’s a strange feeling, he’s become so accustomed to his reputation proceeding him that he’s flabbergasted when it doesn’t. He rubs a hand on the back of his neck where long nights and tension from the day seemed to settle and ache as he listens and his brows knit as he pieces together her babbling. 

“Apologies are not necessary. At least I have, uh, ‘tickled your brain’.” The second she mentions a degree there’s a small flicker of approval and she has a little more of his focus even if it is groggy and honestly stifled by the noise and crowds of people. “Never let any one tell you that any education you receive is worthless. There is nothing more noble than the pursuit of knowledge, and no knowledge is without value. Even if the rewards do not present themselves monetarily, enrichment of the mind is a worth while investment.” 

He checks his itinerary again and he is beyond fashionably late at this point. He may as well skip the concourse considering the ache and fatigue from other obligations are already draining him of his patience for fruitless endeavors and speeches. There’s now plenty of time before the signing, but he’s not going to make it through the day without a jolt of caffeine. He eyes a small stand longingly but can’t bring himself to untangle himself from the girl’s chipper conversation bluntly. Instead, he handles it as graciously as he can. She did complement his armor and attire. 

“I’m not going to kill you as of this moment Ms. Lewis. I am a little bit out of sorts though and I can practically hear the espresso calling my name. Propriety demands I offer you something as well, though at this rate I’m almost afraid of what caffeine will do to you.” None the less he sweeps his hand towards the coffee stand, encouraging her to walk with him. The man at the register seems to know him, looking at him pale and wide eyed.  He steps to the side for her to order. “Ladies first, my treat.” 

Hail to the Geek : Doom & Darcy

There’s a double blink before Darcy squints. 

She really looks at what she’s assumed was a costume, leaning back to take the man in entirely. A small whistle leaves her lips as she realizes he’s right, there isn’t a prop on him. The name rings a bell too, though it’s not a loud one. It’s in the back of her mind, somewhere in one of her history classes, and she must look super confused right about now as she tries to figure it out. Nose scrunched, brow furrowed, lip between her teeth. 

“Fancy. So if you’re a monarch, why are you- oh.” There was some official business in the building? Wow. Well color her surprised. Or, that wasn’t a color, so maybe a tickled pink. Yea, that would do. But she doesn’t really understand the name, other than she just KNOWS she’s heard it before. A lot of times. Was he a contemporary of Jane’s? Must be… But monarch. So ruler of a land, but shouldn’t she like, know that? Yes, and maybe that was the problem. Wow, she needed to get out of her bunker and see the world some more. ”I mean, you’re someone I know by name and now I’m really embarrassed cause like, I know you but I don’t. Like, you’ve tickled me brain, but I’ve been living in a very secular world recently and now I know nothing. It’s bad, real bad, in the way that forgetting world leaders is bad but doesn’t affect your daily life. Except it seems to effect mine cause I’m either really special or equally cursed.” 

Shit. And then she opens her big, ol’ mouth again. Right when she’d caught her breath, too, hands going to her hips indignantly. 

“You are TOTALLY rocking it. It’s an expression meaning you and only you could probably pull it off, meaning all the others are just like, straight up losers. I mean, you DO pull it off, but it’s like, an impressed kind of thing. Oh em gee, don’t kill me. I’m too young and inexperienced to die to world leaders. And here my parents said I’d never use my poli sci degree.” 

Though she doubts they would be happy with her using it as a shield for ruining a monarch’s day. Why couldn’t she like, run into Prince Harry for England? Dude was hot and she might actually hit that. NO. BAD THOUGHTS. WHY, WHY, WHY. Wait. Was that. No way. 

Darcy freezes, staring at the poster with eyes going a bit distant before they focus and she lets out an ungodly squeal that dips low instead of high. Strangled in her throat, she starts to glance around, looking for signs. 

“Tell me one of them is here,” she whispers, hands folding in front of her in a begging motion. “Is one of them here? Is the Shat here? I’m gonna die. I didn’t even realize they were here. Oh my God. Okay. Look. If you know how to get there and I don’t make a peep, can I come with? Like, I won’t step on your cape and I won’t say anything about steampunk and I’ll just so quiet you won’t even know I’m there. I just. My dad and me used to watch the old episodes on reruns when I couldn’t sleep. And I just. I’d die.” 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

“Boiling? Dear girl, this is not some tinkerers cheap prop.” He gestured to his suit of armor. He’d worn a highly polished and flashy set just for the concourse. Intricate scrollwork etched over the edges and peeks of high tech blue light notched through it. “This building could burn around me and I wouldn’t need to worry about scuffing the surface. It is climate controlled, and even the air is filtrated.” He straightened with pride. 

“Doom does not ‘rock’ any manner of this Steam Dream attire.” He folded his arms and looked over the crowd with boredom. “I am simply prepared for any eventuality. Frankly, I’m almost offended you would compare the level of my work to these costumed jesters. They merely have tubes and gears glued to polyester corsets.” Once he’s done preening his ego though, he’s bewildered.  He shifts just a little, as if changing the angle she sees him at will reminder her who he is and that she shouldn’t be this comfortable speaking with him. 

“Darcy? Do you not know who I am?” He doesn’t want to embarrass or frighten her. She’s done nothing to earn any wrath. But surely this was just a bizarre case of mistaken identity. Still, his personal code of honor lead him to take her hand politely. “I am Victor Von Doom.” He waits a moment for it to ring any bells or cause a look of horror... then tries to elaborate. “Doctor Doom? Latverian monarch?” 

A small alarm goes off on the gauntlet display and he knows he’s late for the concourse. “Blast. To clarify, I am not here for the convention at large. I’m here primarily on dull and unimportant political business.” That’s mostly a lie and he hates the taste of it. The concourse was just a pale reason for coming and honestly he’s more intrigued by the American girl who’s not afraid than all the long winded politicians in the subcommittee. He’s not a liar. 

“Or rather that’s one reason I’m here. After that Doom intends to go to Hall F for the autograph signing.” He pulls out an envelope and unsheathes a vintage Star Trek poster. It’s covered in signatures and aside from a few wrinkles looks well cared for despite its age and yellowing paper.  There are pin holes in the corners and a piece of tape along one edge where at one time it may have hung on a wall. 

Hail to the Geek : Doom & Darcy

He’s a brick wall. Darcy is starting to wonder if that’s literal as she looks the dude up and down. Metal everywhere! Crap on a cracker, he was way more into this than she ever was. At least, she’d assumed he was, until the name goes unregistered and she almost snorts. 

Befuddled friend dragged in armor? Yea, that had to be right. Poor guy. 

“You must be boiling,” she offers instead, grinning from ear to ear. “But you look amazing, all the same. Steam Dream panel for the steam punk stuff. I haven’t looked TOO far into the pamphlets about the place, but it’s supposed to be awesome. Futuristic Victorian, which you are rocking, pal. Wow. You’re like, a skyscraper, aren’t you?” 

A low whistle emits from the young woman as she realizes just how tiny she is even in her heels as she’s steadied.  She has to look up, up, up and there’s this face that she’s not even surprised at. 

Eyes are the windows to the soul and she can still see those. So she’s not freaked out in the least. 

“I’m Darcy, and I guess I’m the one that dares,” she offers with her hand to shake, bouncing a bit out of the way of someone else who has a sword that could put an eye out but probably couldn’t cut anything. At least, she’s pretty sure there’s a no real weapons on the arena floor rule, or so she hopes.  “Legitimately thought I was gonna die there for a second. We are like cattle in a pen, herded up, and only a few of us stick out. Like you and that dude over there who’s supposed to be an Autobot. But like, I’m pretty sure those are stilts on him. Her. Uh. Whoever is under the mask. Whatever.” 

Still, she has her bag hugged to her chest and is staring up at this guy like he hung the moon. The cape is massive (reminds her of Thor and she feels a pang in her chest, missing the bad luck charm already), he is actually as sturdy as he felt (and yes, she resisted feeling up an arm as she teetered, be proud Dad), and she thinks if she touches his cheek, she might feel real metal (how insane is that). Her fingers twitch to do just that, but instead, Darcy curls them further into her leather bag with a shyer grin. 

“If you’re heading that way, then maybe I can follow in your wake. I’m kind of tiny, as if anyone didn’t notice. I promise not to bother you or step into you again, so long as I can help it. Cross my heart, hope to fry.” 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

Kings of Promise// Scott & Doom

He had the privilege of a table all to himself. It was more than most countries comparable in size to Latveria could boast. He was amused at the thought that it was largely due to the refusal of any other delegates to sit near him. Indeed the only reasons he even attended these summits was to ensure his diplomatic immunity was never questioned, and to remind the rest of these politicians why they spoke of Latveria in hushed tones.

For now he reclined in his seat, luxuriating in the space of a private table, and tinkering with a small device. Parts were littered among paper work, screws rested next to pens, the laser pointer was probably unwisely next to a high powered welding pen. He was an accomplished multi-tasker and had far too much on his plate to put it on hold for the foolish display of ineptitude the United Nations represented.

He spared a glance to the front podium when they announced a change in speakers. He gave a small shake of his head when he heard the name. Scott Summers, also known as Cyclops. Would the mutants never learn that they were barking up the wrong tree with these buffoons? Regardless, it was a fine change from trade agreements and tariffs. The representatives near his table visibly tensed as he laid down his pet project, leaned forward on folded hands, and gave the leader of Xavier's X-Men his undivided attention.

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

“Americans.” He grumbled softly to himself as he made his way through the over crowded convention center. Whenever he visited New York it seemed to be his go to complaint for anything unpleasant on the trip. This time it was the crowded convention center. 

“Of all the places they could have booked a concourse for the Prime Minister of Symkaria. This place is absolutely packed with a populace that clearly has nothing productive to do on a Friday evening.” He made sure he was perfectly clear when he spoke. He paused at a particularly crowded junction and allowed a heavy sigh as his eyes rolled. Too many people with too little hygiene. It smelled of an odd mix of locker room and spray paint. 

“Some of us are here for business, and you would be best served to be out from under foot.” With a careful and gentle nudge he slipped by a group of chattering young girls. In all honesty he could care less about his neighboring country’s presentation. It was a ruse to get into this building without feeling foolish.  

Bending low over the display imbedded in his armored gauntlet, he checked the itinerary for the fourth time in the last hour. He would have fifteen minutes after the concourse to get to ballroom C. Plenty of time. He triple checked his pockets for everything he needed. He was digging through his cloak when impact sensors in his armor registered he’d been bumped. Honestly, with as well shielded as he was, a case of C4 wouldn’t have knocked him from his feet. Still, he turned to see who the crowd had shoved against him and he swore if it was another mine-craft cardboard box cosplay he was going to vaporize them where they stood. 

“Who dares?” He rumbled and looked down at the transgressor. Not a cheap cardboard bobble head at least. He was almost disappointed. With all the crowds he would have enjoyed a little fire play. Instead it’s just a young woman as trapped in the cramped space as he.  He moves to steady her and ask if she’s harmed but now she’s talking a mile a minute and he’s not sure he’s following. 

“Pardon? Steam what?” 

Hail to the Geek : Doom & Darcy

It’s completely cool to go to a con by herself, right? 

Right. And Darcy wasn’t just going to sit around when New York City had some massive ones to go to. After all, everyone needed a little bit of fun in their lives and she’d come a long way from sitting in her Pennsylvania home, wondering if there were people into the same things she was. 

There were. There were a TON. And she was going to find them, come Hell or high water as she finally pushed through the doors and out of the line. 

She hadn’t gone full fledged this year, mostly because it was June and hella hot outside. But she sure did put some thought into it and casual was better than nothing, even if her heels were going to kill her or someone else one day. Hey, at least she could say she was always prepared, though puncture damage, what a way to go. Eh, could be worse. Could get crash landed on by a space ship or an Asgardian butt. 

Dude’s were heavy.

Technically, she doesn’t even know who is at this one as she wonders around, buying a few comic books here, taking a few free things there. But she knows she won the tickets in a bar after drinking a guy under the table. Literally, guy was such a lightweight. 

Which cannot be said for the guy that she’s shoved into when something down a bit opens its doors. The rush has her stumbling into someone and she growls, glaring at the crowd. She’s short, sure, but that was no reason to push! Turning to apologize, she’s met with a mask, and Darcy squeals in delight. It looked so authentic, she forgets to be grumpy about the crowd. 

“Dude, you look AMAZING,” she gushes, fluttering her hands about as she adjusts her bag across her chest where her stuff is being kept. “Are you heading to the Steam Dream panel too? Cause you are rocking it. I didn’t mess anything up, right? The crowd is brutal, but, I’m totally going to step on the foot of the person that next collides with me. Look at these babies. That’ll teach them.” 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

Notice to Castle Staff

First Item of Business:

You will be pleased to know about half a dozen of our fellow staff members and myself are no longer trapped in a pocket dimension filled with eldritch abominations beyond mortal comprehension. You may all rejoice. 

Except for Tom who flipped the switch on the String Flux Generator while personnel were still outside of the yellow safety line. I would like to remind all staff, especially Tom, that this is why we have safety meetings. 

We’re going to have a very long and in-depth discussion, Tom.

Second Item of Business:  

Time travels differently in pocket dimensions filled with eldritch horrors, and even though it seemed like an eternal parade of nightmares, we were only missing a few months.  As your sovereign ruler, I wish to extend a Happy Birthday to the staff members who I unfortunately missed their special day. You’ll still receive your birthday gift cards and I will be touring the castle to wish you a Happy Birthday and monitor your productivity. 

Except for you Tom. Idiots don’t get birthday gift cards. 

Third Item of Business: 

The carnivorous plant garden needs pruning... Happy Birthday Tom. 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

“Right, your reputation as a man of action proceeds you. I myself was not looking for a fight this evening. However it might prove an interesting diversion. It’s not often these days I can give a light trouncing. Normally when someone knocks at Latveria, they realize they’re asking for a war.”  He smiles just a little at the thought of a light fray. It was as close to playful as he could normally manage.  

The further down they went the less concerned he became about stealth, his foot falls becoming more heavy as if daring anyone to investigate. He huffs audibly and rolls his shoulders in agitation. “Honestly, why go through all of the bother if there’s only a few ill trained thugs at the door? By now we should have run into someone.” 

He has to pull back a few inches to dodge a billy club, but once he realizes the weapon’s fragility, he’s grasped it in a gauntlet covered hand. He looks at the guard with supreme disappointment as he cracks the crude weapon in his grip. “Stupid. Very stupid.”  He pools crackling energy in his free palm but then sighs and shakes his head. “Oh what’s the use, it’s wasted on you.” He instead strikes a pressure point on the guard’s neck and watches him drop like a sack of potatoes. 

“Do you ever have days where it bores you, Captain?” He steps over the guard. “Do you ever tire of being better than most? It seems the hire one climbs the less amusement there is to be had in the simpler things.” 

Night Watchmen// Steve and Dr. Doom

Steve agrees that a larger threat would be required for that sort of… punishment. But then, it could still be fun and he considers if he could talk Stark into creating something that did similar. If the man could even figure it out. After all, it sounded far more mystic than science, and the Captain was sure that not everything overlapped into the ‘we just don’t understand it yet’ category. There were just some things that people were never going to understand, from a particular person to some of the mysteries of the universe. 

There’s an almost silent hum of the tiny drones, the Captain following in their wake after he has set down the door. It takes a soft clang but he doesn’t imagine this place is often used. The dust had settled enough to give the impression, at least. 

Again, though, he wasn’t exactly trying to figure out the whens. More the whats. 

"More ready than you realize," he chuckled lowly, gaze scanning. It’s on light feet he moves forward, checking doors with a small push to the handle. One that was locked wouldn’t give as much as one that wasn’t, and it didn’t require turning the handle to give them away. Steve listens, as well, ears posed to take in nearly any movement outside themselves. "Seems they’re deeper down. The air vents are making more noise than any humans in the surrounding area." 

Worrisome but expected. Bunkers didn’t tend to station many around the mouth of their entrance unless under attack and waiting for incoming. And since he and the doctor were… surprise guests, he doubts they’ve seen them coming. 

Then again, he can hear a crackle of a comm behind him as well. Whoever was supposed to check in, might not. 

"These look like labs," the Captain murmurs after a bit, nose twitching. "You can smell the bleach and antiseptic." 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

Oh of course she was going to come this way. He looks back at the crowd and wondered how suspicious it would be to try and slip into the crowd again. While he is contemplating a plan of retreat, he's not paying attention to Ms. Storm until she's right upon him and talking. 

He jumps a little, and at first he's dumbfounded. He listens and forces a small curl of his lips while he tries to think of a way out. He knows Susan is smart enough to recognize his voice. He's boomed enough threats and cursed enough at the Four and honestly, how common is a Latverian accent?

He clears his throat and tries to speak softly then. He tempers his accent carefully and hopes the low tones covers it enough. "No, not at all." 

He makes a face. Duplicity isn't in his nature, and neither is quietness. It makes him stiffen and feel awkward.  It makes heat rise to his cheeks as he falters trying to hold the disguise. "I was simply passing by. I thought you were someone I used to know... My mistake." He tries to dismiss himself quickly. 

Variables in Space - Doom & Sue

The wave is returned with a waggle of fingers and Sue glances at the instructor, realizes she’s not being watched, and then rolls her eyes for the stranger. It’s a sign of both boredom and frustration, even with the grin gracing her lips. She seems to have startled him, however, and Sue wonders if she’s been picked out of the crowd not because of their strange situation in the grass, but because she is a familiar face to this man. A complete stranger who she doesn’t know but is willing to find companionship in despite everything. 

She really had been in Baxter by herself far too long. 

When the gong does sound, she’s up and moving, eyes narrowing as new information is taken in. The smile never leaves her face as she moves forward with her yoga mat, blowing some hair from her eyes and attempting conversation when she gets there. 

"I don’t suppose you were waiting for us to move, hmm?" 

Normal enough and she goes to apologize, trying to figure out if she’s been recognized or not. There’s something interesting about the wave she’s received and yes. Sue admits it. She’s craving human interaction after so long working on her research into biological instances of adapting to an environment by camouflage, enough that a creature might go… well. Clear. Like herself. 

"We’re all done, if you were looking to use the area. It seems to be some of the only green around." 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

It's only now that he's followed through with this plan that he realizes how truly uncomfortable he is with it. Walking through the park as he is feels different and wrong. People are smiling at him instead of cringing back in terror or awe. It's unsettling to say the least. He does his best to force a half snarl half unused smile before giving up and going back to his current resting emotion of intense displeasure. 

The spell was working like a charm however. He could at least congratulate himself on that. The idea was to be able to infiltrate crowds without drawing attention to himself. He could wear the face of a civilian and walk amongst them un hindered. Such an application would have its uses and this was just the real world application of something he'd been trying to perfect for some time. 

"This is stupid." He grumbles to himself as he cringes away from a woman who nearly ran him over with a baby stroller. He's half tempted to set her yoga pants on fire for the insolence. However, he's supposed to be traveling incognito. Assault and arson would not be conducive to the experiment. 

He's not used to being unseen or hiding, even when wearing his mask he's not hiding exactly who and what he is. Everything is there for anyone to see. Of all the things he would admit to bluntly, he would never have called himself a liar, and that's exactly what this face is. 

The gravity of how stupid and uncomfortable this situation is rams him through the moment Susan Storm smiles at him.  For a moment he stands perfectly still like a deer staring down a wolf wondering if it's been spotted or not. No, she is definitely looking at him. He offers a wave and hopes he doesn't look familiar enough to approach. The face is not his own, but his voice most definitely is. 

Variables in Space - Open

She’s doing yoga in the park. A normal activity, done with strangers and completed in a timely manner. And yet, it was never so complicated as Sue focuses on her breathing, only to find a thousand thoughts flying through her head. It makes her breathing a bit more… forced through her teeth, but she keeps the timing under some miracle of will. 

Now if only she could get her thoughts to stop spinning. It’s a bit dizzying with her eyes closed and the young woman lets them open to watch her fellow participants. All of them, spread out evenly, it’s almost unnatural in the park that’s full of buzzing children in snow things, slopping through, men and women going to and fro haphazardly. 

And there they are. Spaced like place settings on a table. Sue turns back around only to meet someone else’s eyes across the circle, and her lips twitch in a welcoming smile, offering some companionship to her fellow, wide eyed breather as they waited for the gong so they could get up. 

She could really use a coffee. And possibly an aspirin.

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

"I can. It takes a bit of prep work, especially if you want the intended target to survive the trip. It's a complicated business, but I have achieved it. It wasn't intended for the banishment of a few unlucky guards though." The process had taken time to master. It wasn't like he discovered trans-dimensional ascension in an afternoon. He'd begun the work sloppily as a young man. He absently rubbed the metal mask remembering the price of his early folly. 

A miscalculation brought on by over eagerness to achieve the goal had cost him a face, a reputation, and so much more.  What a simple and impatient imbecile young Victor Von Doom had been; but years can change a man and now he carried a deathly patience, a poisonous sense of purpose, and a principle of vengeance. Doctor Doom was ready for the guards entering the hallway. 

He tossed a few of the knock out drones into the air and the small creatures zipped forward to perform their duty. Within seconds their would be assailants were on the floor in deep slumber. He stepped over them, careful to lift the edge of his cape lest the hem some how become contaminated from touching stupidity. 

"There may be more ahead, Captain Rogers. What ever they have down here is the only thing deemed important enough to hide."  He muttered something in an old and long forgotten tongue, sparks of lightening crackled at his finger tips. "I hope you're ready for a quick skirmish." 

Night Watchmen// Steve and Dr. Doom

"Boy bands I unfortunately know about…" 

It’s said with a shuddering cringe and a small purse of the Captain’s lips in distaste. There was something to be said for modern music, but he hadn’t found the hard pop of the beat and electrical noises added to bring anything to that specific genre. It wasn’t to his taste, but he could see why people liked it. There was something to be said of a bass that pounded hard enough to not hear what’s going on inside his own head. 

Which has stuttered to a stop at the idea of sending someone to another dimension, entirely. Well, not dimension, but a plane was so different than where they were now, it might as well be. 

"You can do that?" he asks as he adjusts the weight of the door back onto himself. Solid steel, he wonders if they realize there are better things to make doors out of these days. After all, he’d done this very same thing with less finesse on a helicarrier. "I mean, if they get rowdy, that has to be helpful…" 

Maybe he should check with SHIELD and see if they were in the process of creating something like that. Then again, him and SHIELD weren’t talking, which only served to make them sound like teenagers. 

Which is why Steve focuses on the task at hand. A silent exhale of a grunt and the door is removed from its hinges. Very familiar with shields, he takes a step, glances both ways, takes another. And that’s when he hears it. A knocking on the door and he chuckles a little darkly as a smile creeps across his lips, and he moves aside to let Doom through. 

"I do believe they knocked, doctor…" 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

"What is what?" He pauses for a moment to try and catch up with their conversation. He'd mostly been speaking to himself but clearly he'd said something out of Captain Rogers scope. It hits him in a moment and he waves a hand dismissively. "Oh! You needn't worry about it. It was before and after your time, just before the wireless age began. Around the epidemic of boy bands if memory serves." 

He steps aside and allows the other man to take care of the door. He could do it himself, but having a few extra moments of preparation between now, and when they crossed the threshold, could make all the difference should it come to a fight. At least Captain Rogers knew about dividing tasks efficiently. 

"Please, I have spells and technology at my disposal that could send someone soundlessly to another plain of existence if I so wished." He checks his robes and pulls out two little glass balls filled with swirling purple gas but tucks them away deciding he could do better. He looks up at his companion and remembers astral banishment might be a distasteful solution given the circumstances. 

"However I lack most of the components I need for such a feat. I only came prepared for light skulduggery, not all out war." He reassures as he fishes out two little devices with a sound of triumph. "Ah! Here we go... nano-drones outfitted with a heavy anesthetic. A little sting and they're in dreamland for two days."

He nods towards the door. "I'm ready whenever you are Captain." 

Night Watchmen// Steve and Dr. Doom

The Captain moves out of the way, shifting through the various chemicals on the cart. None of the bottles are actually full and he shakes his head. There was something very… old fashioned about hiding behind a cart or a bookshelf. There were ways to have doors without marks, without sound differences when tapped these days. 

Why use these? Things Steve knew, knew well, and couldn’t quite wrap his mind around at the same time. Time had advanced. 

Why hadn’t they? 

"I’m sorry what?" he offers, turning back to the doctor and stepping forward. Watching Doom work is a bit inspiring, but also a bit concerning. The tech in his arsenal wasn’t normal, or at least anything the Captain had come across. And he’s come across a lot, considering his time in SHIELD. "What’s dial up?" 

New technology is familiar to him. Old technology is familiar to him. But the in between, he’s only heard of it. And this one he hasn’t, seemingly missing from his books. 

Still, he peers at the door and has to admit. It looks about as old as he is, give or take a few years. 

"I’m assuming that is where we have to go," he offers softly, eyeing it. "With the hinges gone, I can get it off the frame and open it slowly. Without noise. You got something that’ll send someone to the depths of sleep if there’s someone beyond the door?" 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

"Doctor would be acceptable as well." He half mutters it as he's currently fixated on clearing carts and cleaning supplies that don't look like they've been used so much as perfectly staged to cover the gap. His scanners blip and faze out with static every time he tries to read what's on the other side of the door. 

He doesn't like it. There's obviously far more effort being put into the protection of this section of the building than anything else. He almost feels insulted that what he regarded as an important find should be so carelessly kept when a real prize may be waiting down below. When the door is clear he holds his hand out to motion the other to stand back. 

He traces a finger along the edge of the door until he finds what seems to be a hinge. How quaint. He half expected it to sink into the ground or rise into the ceiling. He pulls a pouch from his person and sprinkles what looks to be a fine red dust on that edge of the door, then he smears a blue paste on it. The door then begins to dissolve. 

"Who in their right mind would go through all the trouble just to have a hinged door?" He can reach a hand through the hole now and can even see the security system access box on the wall. He can't hold back a noise of disbelief. "It's positively antiquated! Why go through all the trouble? Why is the door so...so...old?! Uhg is that... dial up?!" 

His curiosity is burning now. He has to understand this paradox. What is so secret it must be kept down here but so worthless the security system hasn't been touched in decades? He focuses a small burst of magic and the box implodes with a burst of sparks. He was too impatient for finesse at this point.

Night Watchmen// Steve and Dr. Doom

The Captain has the decency to laugh at that, soft and quiet as they move towards the exit. He tips his head back and forth, unconcerned with many titles. If someone wants to be called something, he’ll made due and try. Then again, he opens up his lips to let out a little secret. 

"Doctor might slip out more naturally in a rush," he offers, nodding before he pauses. Listens to the layout of the door and building. Blue eyes set to a darker blue and the Captain cowboy’s up for a mission. "Sounds more suspicious than it should. Time to go see what they’re hiding." 

Curious and now wondering if the information he needs sits just out of his reach, Steve scouts the turns before they end up where they’re going. 

A wane smile crosses his lips at the information, though his eyes are darting around the room. He’s been in too many secret facilities recently that have another, secret floor. Secret passage. Some sort of goings on that wasn’t for the public, but also wasn’t for the in the loop staff. So now all they had to find was the door, and Steve moves into the room, toeing the drainage of the water valve, inspecting the cinder blocks, and finally bending all the way down, hands on the floor and looking like he’s about to do a push up. 

Aha! There we go and he pulls a flashlight out to see what’s what. Even goes so far to reach under the shelf and tap the gap, listening. 

"Looks like there’s a gap in the concrete in the back corner," he murmurs, brow furrowing. "Steel door beyond from the sound of it. But the hinge I can see looks electric. So if you’ll help me move this cart of things, you can have the honors of overriding their system again." 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

"Yes, I am a little below the average. Perhaps it was because I didn't eat my greens as a child." He's blunt and matter of fact about it as though he's not only aware but has devoted thought to it. He has. In order to craft the armor that protects him, he's had to carefully chart his health, his possible biometric risk factors. The carefully crafted programing needs to know if his body is in distress and the only way to assure that is to take into account events like severe malnutrition in his childhood. "I do appreciate your politeness using my correct title though."

He thinks back in the recent record of his memories and sifts through them carefully. He believes he remembers it, he even replays the visual record the mask captured. There it was, three right turns back down the hallway he entered from.  "Yes I remember a Janitor's closet... It struck me odd that one would on this floor. According to the blue prints all the maintenance facilities and janitorial storage areas are on even floors. This is an odd numbered floor. The door is also nearly two feet wider than a normal door according to my measurements." 

They walk to the odd janitor's closet and he kneels down to examine the concrete. He traces a gloved finger over a faint scrape in the hard flooring. Something heavy has been dragged here. "I think you may be onto something here Mr. Rogers." 

Night Watchmen// Steve and Dr. Doom

"Not exactly here to play Captain," the man admits, not even reluctant to say he’s broken in with no more intention than stealing information. A brow rises at the majesty part, however, and Steve’s brain is off thinking. Victor Von Doom. Von Doom. Wait. That Doom? "I thought you’d be taller, your majesty." 

The murmur leaves Steve softly walking the same way, glancing around the terminals and wondering. His own data had just been mangled anyhow, any sort of locations seemingly just a buffer for different data behind it. 

As if everything was a front and even the work being down behind closed doors wasn’t supposed to be anything more than static. 

"Haven’t died yet from it," he offers, following in the other man’s wake and careful of the cape this time. From the corner of his eye, he watches Doom carefully, but then moves forward and out the door, checking the sounds and moving the way any weren’t. "I came through the air vents. There were some that went down but I figured they went to some sort of broiler room. It was warmer down those passages. And I think I know how to get down there, or at least, get past the door to there once we find said door. You didn’t happen to see a janitor’s closet on your way in, did you?" 

It wasn’t the guards or the agents that would get them down there. Everything needed to be cleaned, everything needed to be secure, and it wasn’t agents trusted with those types of things. People who didn’t ask questions, civilians that could be wiped off the map at a moment’s notice, those were the people they gave access to everything. Because they had no use other than that. 

But they had keys. And that’s exactly what they needed when vents weren’t an option. 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

"Ah, yes. I apologize I expected you to be more star spangled, captain." He glances him over and oh yes, he can place it now. Perhaps he was too fixated on the task before. "Victor Von Doom. Some call me 'your majesty'." 

He's finally fed up with the numbers not reading correctly and disconnects with a growl. "It doesn't make any sense." He mutters under his breath and turns on his heel. Almost instinctively, he pulls the cape into a sharp twirl. Always time to add a sense of flair. 

"I'm sure by now you've noticed the odd data amalgamation collected three floors down below... But I find it strange, Captain," He turns slightly to the other man over his shoulder. "We're supposed to be in the basement level right now. Perhaps, if you've found what you were looking for or just fed up with doing... whatever you're doing, you might be interested in sating some curiosity?" 

"I have a feeling there's more to this little vault than meets the eye." With a tap to the temple of his metal mask, enhanced optic receptors are scanning the floor and all he can see is concrete, loads of it. Far more than should possibly be there. It wasn't structurally needed to act as a foundation. There was something hidden down below and he intended to get to the bottom of it. He left the room and began scanning the area. He didn't want to just blast his way down when there might be a secret door somewhere.

Night Watchmen// Steve and Dr. Doom

The Captain pauses in what he’s doing, brow rising as he looks over his screen from where he’s crouching against the wall. Chemical or biological or other, gases weren’t exactly something he worried about and he idly wonders if he walked through part of a lingering cloud. Not that his lungs wouldn’t filter it, but still. 

Had to be thought of. He was a big guy… and he went down hard when he went down at all. 

Foot slides when he hears the throat clear, the man having perhaps done it on purpose. Who wears a cape these days? Memories of an old ‘team’ pop into his head and the Captain almost snorts. Almost. Maybe this guy flew. Maybe he just liked to hear it swish behind him. Either way, Steve’s attention was 70 percent on his task and 30 percent on this other man. It quickly shifts to 90 and 10 with a growl at his screen, something blinking in the corner as he rolls his eyes and shuts the damn thing. Standing, he easily breaks it in half before before leaving it by his station, leaning on another to focus on this… anomaly. 

"You know, I couldn’t agree more," Steve answers honestly. With technology, there was just a point where it couldn’t beat human interaction. A human element. When someone was integrated with it, it could do great things. But it could also disassociated a lot of things he remembers from the past. Perhaps he was just in an odd position to notice things like that, though. "Looks like it worked in our favor. Steve Rogers. Some know me as Captain America." 

Though the younger generation seems to not know him as much. Little kids did, adults and their grandparents seemed to. That middle age. Man, it was hard enough being that age, he wouldn’t know him either. But the Captain extends his hand cordially, figuring it wouldn’t hurt. 

"Also? They don’t know we’re here. My disconnected me and the report says it was a lightening storm out in Georgia. Apparently one of the towers got struck out there, so that’s helpful." 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

"To each their own then." He shrugged it off and waved a dismissive hand. Though weighing oneself in metal provided a little more protection against being eaten alive. Though he was over a mile away in his true physical form, the primal unease of being close to a predator was palpable. 

He watched the oozing slimy symbiotic move with morbid fascination. In his mind he was already calculating what tests should be done. Perhaps something that would test neural connectivity between the cells. WAS it made of cells? Perhaps it was an undulating mass of proteins. The possibilities were endless and sparked his curiosity. However, one couldn't harvest the burl without cutting down the tree. 

"You're correct, and neither does America have sovereign rulers." He bites back an 'idiot' he would like to tack on at the end. He has to play nice if he wants to get his way. At least, he has to play nice for now. "I'm offering you a chance to do what you're good at... but with the tiniest amount of self control. You see I quite like your work... but you're the human equivalent of carpet bombing." 

Control // Cletus & Doom

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

"Indeed, appallingly simple. A little anesthetic gas capsule dropped in the right place at the right time. You would think after all these years these places would be better equipped for chemical attacks." He makes a sigh of displeasure when he runs across a pesky firewall he hadn't counted on. It would take a few extra moments, but the other guard being subdued gave him that time. What an unexpected blessing. 

"But then, the United States is not a nation that has its priorities straight. It would be simpler to pass a bill demanding more staplers in the White House than to ask them to properly equip the men who guard their most valued secrets." He moves to visit the next terminal down, but the blond man is standing on his cape. He gives it a sharp tug and clears his throat loudly. With a small roll of his shoulders he moves over and continues his work. 

"Technology is best used as a tool, not a crutch." His jaw clenches a little under the mask. This firewall is unrelenting, and he finds it strange, given how unguarded the rest of the facility is and how open the servers are that this particular section should be so blocked off. From first glance it seemed an unimportant string of accounting software was behind it, but it was too big. Something was off about it, and his curiosity was getting the better of him as he probed deeper.

"Putting it in the hands of a fool is like handing a rapier to an infant. Still, I suppose it works in our favor tonight, does it not?" The face seems vaguely familiar. He wanders if he's threatened this person before and sifts through his memories. He can't seem to recall. 

"You seem somewhat familiar, if it's not too secretive, might I ask for a name or alias?" He clips through the firewall at last, and he has a moment of triumph as he glimpses what is behind the curtain. It's a garbled mess of data. The numbers don't make sense, the coding doesn't make sense. It's an amalgam of data that doesn't belong together. He realizes he's been standing in silence for too long just wrapping his mind around it. One thing is clear though, whatever this mess was describing was three floors down. 

Night Watchmen// Steve and Dr. Doom

"There’s rabble somewhere?" Steve offers, keeping the other man in the corner of his eye but continuing his search. "Love to meet them. Might come in handy when they realize their nightwatchmen are down for the count. I can only assume you’ve taken care of the other, since I couldn’t find him." 

But then, maybe he walked in cleanly. Doubtful but possible. 

"It’s because they count on their technology to save them," he mumbles, eyes flashing across his screen before he sneers at some information, moving over it. "When it fails, they don’t notice right away." 

The Captain unhooks from the terminal he’s on and goes to another one, logging in and using a program that’s been made for him to scratch into the surface of the databases to find their search engines. And then he uses the companies own methods to find what he’s looking for, no one the wiser. Whoever the guy was, he was right. This wasn’t supposed to be this easy and Steve feels the hairs on the back of his neck prickle a bit as he surveys the area. 

Maybe they were allowed in. But he doesn’t see anything that would say the vents were to open to emit a gas or that a wire was somewhere they could have tripped. No… they were just in and out like good old boys. 

"Hell in a hand basket, Sir," he offers, shaking his head as he moves actually around his cohort and takes a knee on the other side of his terminal. He checks the serial numbers on it, moves on as data he doesn’t need to search, and bares his back to the man, shield and all. "Or so people used to say. Now they’re simply shocked the world is anything like they know it to be. Easier on them. Shit goes down somewhere, it’s a mystery because they need to catch up on the gossip of the latest celebrities. Though I must admit, the cooking channel? Superb waste of time that actually teaches you something." 

[principle-of-vengance-blog]

The doombot that had been dispatched as the agent landed easily enough. It was a perfect replica down to the rivets, but the eyes gave it away. Doom was not trying to fool anyone with this dummy. Just use it as a proxy while he and the rest of his forces watched from the outcropping about a mile or so away from the actual city. 

With Doom able to occupy its form in the first person, he brushed a little dust off of its cape as he made minute adjustments in handling the doombot. It walked down the main through fare, now coated in blood and gore and the repulsion was tangible even through the proxy's body language. Victor had been hailed as a monster and a mad man before, but was never one to delight in the wanton destruction of life. Blood shed needed a reason. At least in his esteemed opinion. 

"Well, I think you're far from sane. So we're even." He found a clean patch of pavement to stand in and the doombot's glowing optics raised to meet the destroyer's. "I am Victor Von Doom, sovereign ruler of Latveria. I must say, I'm impressed by your work here. You are... disgustingly efficient."  The doombot scanned the town from where it stood. No signs of life at all. Doom had expected as much though. 

"I have a proposal for you, if you're willing to hear it." 

Control // Cletus & Doom