#I will never have enough doom & namor in my life | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

marblesarelost · 7 years

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Change Your Mind, Change Your Life

CHAPTER THREE

“Lord Protector Von Doom?” He looked up from the customs official to see a very…plain…gentleman coming toward him, dressed in a fairly decent, yet nondescript suit and tie. A receding hairline, worry lines around his eyes, he wore a professional smile as a mask. “I’m Director Philip Coulson. I spoke to your --“

“Seneschal,” Doom agreed. “Martin. Yes, I was informed you and your associates were to act as my escort.”

“Security detail, your Grace,” Director Coulson gently corrected. “Not that you need one, of course.”

“No. I don’t,” Victor replied. “But I am…loath to disrespect the hospitality and courtesy of the United States and the United Nations, and so I accept your gracious offer.”

“Thank you, your Grace. Did you bring an entourage?”

“No; I have no need of such things. The Latverian Embassy will see to my needs and desires,” Victor said, signing the last paper with a flourish. “I must wait for my baggage, Director, and then I will be ready to leave.”

“Of course. May I ask if you were wishing to do anything else during the time you’re here? I know your advisor told me you’d be in New York for a week, so…” Director Coulson let his sentence fade.

“I do not know. I had hoped perhaps to have a word with Iron Man, and King Namor is to arrive tomorrow; we may wish to see a show. I have heard very good things about this Hamilton play.”

“Hamilton’s amazing,” Director Coulson said, his smile becoming larger and much more genuine. “Lin-Manuel Miranda is a national treasure.”

“Your President had made some noise of wishing to meet with me, but I really rather would not; I have dealt with Mr. Trump before in business matters, and found him to be boorish and inelegant. I rather doubt that attaining the presidency has changed matters.”

“President Trump is currently at Mar-A-Lago, your Grace. I’ll inform you if that changes,” the director offered, his mouth closing, lips becoming thin; ah. Victor could read between those lines very well; there was no love lost, but the man would say nothing against his ruler. Good.

Several more agents joined them as the Director led the way through a private hallway, two women, one whose very essence radiated danger, much as the Black Widow; the other was younger, but she moved with an efficiency close to the first. Probably her protégé. “Agent May, Agent Johnson,” the director introduced them. “Agent Mackenzie is waiting outside.”

“Excellent. One moment, if you would?” At the director’s nod, Victor gestured to the two diplomats waiting for him. “Have my luggage delivered to the embassy; the Director has come to collect me himself, and I do not wish to insult him.”

“Yes, Lord Protector,” came the expected answer, and a few minutes later, he was in the bulletproof limo with Agent May and Director Coulson. Agent Johnson was in the front passenger seat beside Agent Mckenzie. The ride passed pleasantly for some few minutes before Director Coulson cleared his throat, leaning forward from the rumble seat.

“I don’t mean to presume, Lord Protector, but I wonder if you’d be willing to talk about the incident last week? In the bay?”

“What is it you wish to know?” Victor answered pleasantly; the man was courteous and deferential enough, it was of no matter to speak to him about the occurrence.

“Dr. Richards’ actions,” Director Coulson began. “Iron Man described them as being dangerous. Would you agree with that assessment?”

“Reed is an obnoxious twit,” Victor replied. “We have been at odds for a very long time, and unfortunately, I do not see that set of circumstances ever changing.”

“Yes, I’m well aware of your common history,” Coulson nodded. “But Iron Man claims, and the footage bears it out, that he was willing to go through Iron Man to get to you.”

“That is Richards’ problem. Not mine. Not unless he makes it mine,” Victor said, closing his eyes at the sound of the edge to his voice. “Forgive me. We do have a great deal of agitated history between us, and it is easy to slip into old thought patterns and habits when speaking of him or his possible intentions.”

“Of course. I have the same reaction when it comes to certain people,” Coulson said easily. “I simply want to avoid any unpleasantness between you and the FF during your stay if we can at all.”

“I give you my word, Director Coulson. Any unpleasantness that arises will find the blame laid at their feet, not my own. I am…I dare not say a new man. But I am endeavoring to become a better man than I have been, and a large part of that change means that I do not begin physical altercations. I may well finish them,” he added, chuckling, “but I refuse to allow others the satisfaction of knowing that they provoked me into swinging first, as it were.”

“Fair enough,” Coulson agreed, nodding. “Okay.”

His heart, the heart he hid as best he could, fell as he saw the protestors outside the Latverian Embassy. Dozens of them, holding signs that protested his reign over his country. L.A.F.F., Latverian-Americans For Freedom. He knew of the group. Most of the time, they held non-violent protests, though his intelligence said that there had been a few altercations with his diplomats and the robots that guarded the embassy over the last few years.

“I hope that after tomorrow, they’ll be celebrating,” Director Coulson said softly as the gates of the embassy opened, the robot guardians keeping the protestors away.

“That is my hope as well, but I dare not count on it,” Victor sighed. “They will instead begin a conspiracy theory that I am doing this only for good publicity, and that I must have some sort of nefarious plot, that I am drawing the wool over the U.N.’s eyes. It is a fair assumption for them to come to.”

“You’ve never gone this far before,” Agent May spoke for the first time. “You’ve never come to the U.N. to ask for aid before in anything, not even after the earthquake several years ago.”

“No,” he agreed; that natural disaster had been horrible, especially in some of the mountain region villages. “No. Latveria takes care of its own.” Weeks of rescue efforts, then years of rebuilding. He had refused all offers of aid, setting the robots to find and rescue those trapped under rubble, had rushed doctors from the hospitals of Doomstadt, including his own personal doctors, to the sites where they were needed.

The car stopped, the door opened by one of the robots, the ambassador to the United States, Aleksander, coming to greet him, dropping to one knee deferentially as he got out of the car. “Lord Protector.”

“Aleksander. You may rise,” he nodded graciously. “Have the rooms I ordered prepared for King Namor been so?”

“They have, my Lord.”

“Excellent. The salt-water pool?”

“Is ready for him.”

“Good. Director Coulson, I will expect you and your agents tomorrow morning at nine-thirty; my appointment with the Council is at ten-thirty.”

“Yes, your Grace. See you then.” An acceptable answer, as the car drove on to the circle to turn around he entered the embassy building, going directly to the throne awaiting him and taking his seat.

“Report.”

“The U.N. is curious, of course, and is already gathering the teams necessary for your request, my Lord. We have received several invitations for you from the Chernayan and Symkarian Embassies, and a request for an audience from Anthony Stark and Steven Rogers.”

“Iron Man and Captain America,” Victor said thoughtfully. “When did that arrive?”

“Yesterday evening, sire.”

“Inform the Chernayan and Symkarian Embassies that I would be happy to visit and renew my acquaintance with Lady Finitaz and Mr. Daru at their convenience, after tomorrow. Inform them I will ask King Namor to accompany me, but he may or may not do so. Do you have the number for Mr. Stark?”

“I do, sir.”

“Bring me a telephone.”

Darcy put her makeup on very, very carefully the next morning, trying to keep her hands from shaking too much as she applied her eyeliner. She was going to the U.N. to observe the meeting between Von Doom and the Elections Committee, along with Tony, Steve, Natasha and Clint, as the political liaison for the Avengers Initiative. Her navy blue suit still fit her like a glove, accentuating her hourglass figure, her wire rimmed glasses adding a hint of sophistication, her eyes looking just a hint bigger than usual thanks to a clever trick with her makeup.

The Avengers away team, as she was thinking of them this morning, were all in mufti; Tony in a divine cream colored suit with a sky blue tie, probably Italian, Natasha in a suit not unlike hers, though she was sure that ‘Tasha’s had special pockets for hidden weapons. Clint and Steve both wore suit pants and blazers, though they had both skipped the ties. ‘Tasha smiled when she saw Darcy coming, holding up a hand and twirling a finger; dutifully, Darcy slowly turned around. “Lovely. You are lovely and professional this morning,” Natasha began, then looked down at her feet. “And those are good shoes. Expensive enough to respect, cheap enough to leave behind if you have to run.” Darcy looked down at her Sandro Mary Janes with a sad smile.

“Yeah, that was kind of my thought,” she sighed in agreement. “But better to lose the shoes than my head, right?”

“Exactly,” Natasha nodded before turning on the men. “We will meet you all at the car.” Darcy took Natasha’s left arm, and the two women walked on toward the elevator, leaving the men slightly gobsmacked before they caught on and caught up with them.

They entered the building through a private underground garage, riding up in an elevator that smelled slightly of freesia. The floor they got off on could have been in any luxury office building, the carpet a soft muted gray, the walls fairly nondescript, a muted green wallpaper with a darker green zigzag line pattern. The art that was hung here and there were landscapes, for the most part, though they passed by more than one photograph study as well, again, landscapes. The Sahara. The Congo. Madripoor. The Alps.

They weren’t the first arrivals in the conference room they were led to; a few diplomats were already seated at the long oak table. They looked up as the group entered, but turned their attention back to the laptops and tablets in front of them when it was obvious they were observers rather than participants. Tony took a seat in one of the chairs lining the inner wall, and the rest followed suit, Darcy at the end farthest from the door and away from the windows at Clint’s insistence.

While they waited, Darcy took a selfie for her Instagram and Twitter, #U.N. #she blinded me with political science, then switched to her audio recorder app; she wanted to record what was said so she could go over it later. It was only about another five minutes before the room started filling up, other diplomats arriving both as more observers and the committee itself. And then they walked in.

Darcy had never met Namor or Doom, but the moment they entered, the room fell silent. Both men carried themselves with a regal presence, aware of their importance, aware of their stature, they both had a confidence in their body language that could easily be mistaken for cockiness. Doom was, of course, in his armor, but instead of the normal green cloak that he seemed to be so fond of, he wore a deep royal purple tunic and cape over it, the tunic belted at the waist, his metal boots and gloves trimmed in ermine. A heavy looking, thick linked golden chain hung around his neck, a medallion falling from it square in the midst of his chest; the crown jewel of Latveria, his chain of office.

Namor, on the other hand, was sin on two legs. His black hair was slicked back, and he smirked as he looked around the room, wearing a dark gray suit, Hugo Boss, if she wasn’t mistaken, though his feet were bare, as was his custom due to the wings that sprouted from his ankles. He took a chair just to Von Doom’s left, and Darcy noticed as he passed behind Doom that one hand rose, just a bit -- was he actually patting Doom on the back? Giving the man reassurance? Interesting. “Namor his friend? Patted his back maybe prior 2 conf. Consider later,” she scribbled on her notepad.

“I wish to thank the council for granting me an audience on such short notice,” Doom began, still standing at the head of the table, his voice rumbling and deep, and oh God maybe Namor was sex on LEGS, but Doom’s VOICE was sex for her ears. “I understand that this was very much an inconvenience, and I wish you to know that I personally, and the Latverian people, appreciate your time.” He took a seat beside Namor, and the committee began questioning him directly. What did he want to see happen? How long a time frame did he project from beginning to end? Would he allow investigational and educational teams into Latveria? Those questions and more in the same vein went on for about an hour, Doom answering them all patiently, sometimes taking a few seconds to consider his words before he responded, but never once becoming short or irritable so far as Darcy could tell.

When the meeting was officially over, some members of the committee lingered for a few minutes, speaking to Doom or Namor quietly before leaving the room with the other observers. Darcy gathered her things, but Clint brushed against her arm, flattened his palm and pushed out; wait, that motion meant, so she didn’t get up. Finally, the only people left in the room were Doom, Namor, and the Avengers group. Tony got up first, extending his hand. “Ruler Protector Von Doom.”

“Mr. Stark.” The two shook hands, and then Tony shook with Namor as well before Doom spoke again. “I was very glad to see you and your colleagues here. But I do not think I recognize the young lady beside Mr. Barton? Have the Avengers grown again?” Darcy’s mouth grew dry as Tony turned, jerking his head. Slowly, she rose and went to stand beside him, barely remembering to drop a discreet curtsy before the two kings; well, Doom was practically a king, wasn’t he?

“Our political analyst, Darcy Lewis,” Tony introduced her. “She’s a firecracker.”

“Indeed,” Namor murmured, his sea green eyes deep, but just a little cold, if she didn’t miss her guess. Aww, sexy, no. “You have a way of surrounding yourself with beautiful women, Anthony.”

“It’s a gift,” Tony smirked.

“An honor to meet you both, your Majesty, your Grace,” Darcy managed to say as Namor took the hand she extended, raising it gently as if to kiss the back, though he never actually did so. “I’m so glad to have the opportunity.” She offered her hand to Doom next; he didn’t affect the same flirtatiously courtly manner as Namor, however, only shaking firmly. He had brown eyes behind the mask, she noted, and they looked very tired.

“A pleasure, Miss Lewis.”

“So,” Tony clapped his hands and rubbed them together, “did you both get the invitations?”

“We did,” Namor replied, inclining his head. “I do not speak for Victor, but I for one would be happy to attend your soiree, Anthony. You always throw the best parties.”

“Awesome, show up anytime between eight and ten. How about you, Doom?”

“I…appreciate the invitation, though I must reluctantly decline; let us be frank, Mr. Stark, my presence might cause your other guests some discomfort.” Doom’s mask tilted downward just a fraction as he spoke, and Darcy could read between those lines. She could read between those lines all too well. He didn’t expect to be welcomed, and rightfully so; he had done horrible things. More, he knew he had done horrible things. And, she realized, he was ashamed.

“Lord Protector, perhaps just a token appearance?” She heard herself say before she thought. “At least amongst the main party. Tony’s penthouse is huge, surely we could find a quiet space for you to people watch, at least. And I would love to hear more about the changes you’re planning in Latveria.” His mask shot towards her, those tired brown eyes flaring, seeking, searching through her long enough that her lips parted, intending to apologize for the intrusion.

“Perhaps, Miss Lewis. I will at least consider it. And I do indeed appreciate the invitation, Mr. Stark.”

“Call me Tony, Mr. Stark was my dad,” Tony said, a little flippantly. “You’ve got my number; if you plan on flying, call first so I can have the security measures turned off on the jetpad. See you tomorrow night.” He flipped his glasses back down, giving both men a grin, before taking Darcy’s arm and heading for the door, the rest of the group following them out of the conference room and toward the elevator. “Good job, Sparky,” he said lowly. “Did you see what I saw?”

“I think so,” Darcy breathed. “He’s tired, Tony. And he’s lonely.”

“Everybody’s lonely, honey. In their heart of hearts.”

“Yeah. Yeah, but…but you’ve got Pepper now, and you’ve got us,” she said, glancing over her shoulder to see how close the others were. Still about five feet back. “And you’re loved, Tony. You really are.” She couldn’t see his eyes through his sunglasses, but his lips and nose twitched, just a little, and his grip on her arm tightened.

“Thanks, Artoo.”

“No problem, Threepio.”

“Dammit, I’m Han,” Tony sighed as the others caught up. “Or maybe Lando.”

“You are so wrong about that. You’re a suave-ass con, all right, but you can’t pull off a cape.” Clint snickered, Natasha smirked, as they all boarded the elevator.

#The Darcy Lewis/Victor Von Doom story that nobody asked for #Darcyland #Darcy Lewis #Victor Von Doom #Namor The Sub-Mariner #Phil Coulson #Melinda May #Avengers #Marvel #fanfic #I love reblogs #@subsilvernight #Phil is being Agent Agent here #That's why Doom calls him plain

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f4liveblogarchives · 7 years

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Fantastic Four Vol. 1 #9

Session Start (Wackd:#Wack’d): Fri Oct 21 08:31:33 2016 -0400 [22:42:50] <Wackd> Iiiiiii am going to read more Fantastic Four [22:43:01] <maxwellelvis> Where did you leave off? [22:43:24] <Wackd> Issue 8 [22:43:27] <maxwellelvis> Ah. [22:43:32] <maxwellelvis> Go forth then [22:43:39] <Wackd> Alicia Masters and her father, Puppet [22:44:07] <Bocaj> eeesh [22:44:08] <Bocaj> thats [22:44:12] <Bocaj> that was not a great time [22:44:19] <MousaThe14> Ah, yes, the Puppet Master [22:44:36] <Wackd> Puppet J. Masters [22:44:45] <Wackd> I too would turn to villainy with a name like that, probably [22:45:01] <maxwellelvis> At least your name isn't Telford Porter. [22:45:10] <MousaThe14> Also, apparantly Alicia didn't have a surname at this time [22:45:22] <MousaThe14> And wouldn't until a fan wrote one in many many issues later [22:45:47] <MousaThe14> @Max, You joke but I have a character with a similarly cruddy name [22:45:58] <Wackd> Okay so I get why the Four is selling shit to cover their debts [22:46:09] <Wackd> But, uh, why are they splitting up [22:46:16] <Wackd> That seems unnecessary [22:46:55] <Wackd> Also, I love that they lost all this money because Reed bought stocks [22:47:07] <Wackd> Even the smartest man alive is no match for Wall Street [22:47:24] <maxwellelvis> I told you, Reed Richards is a master of many arts and sciences; finance is not one of them. [22:48:53] <Wackd> CAB DRIVER: "Hey you really shouldn't take a cab being broke and all" [22:49:03] <Wackd> THING: *puts the cab through a streetlight* [22:49:23] <MousaThe14> I wonder if Wack'd should read Strange Tales to get the full experience by going through the awful saga of The Human Torch's brief solo series [22:49:35] <Bocaj> noooo [22:50:05] <MousaThe14> But quite a few iconic FF villains get their start there, strangely enough [22:50:23] <maxwellelvis> The only thing noteworthy about that run was the issue that did the test run to see if people wanted Captain America back, [22:50:25] <Wackd> "If only we could be like the superheroes in some of these comic magazines, Sue! They never seem to worry about money! Life is a breeze for them!" [22:50:29] <Wackd> Wonk wonk [22:50:32] <maxwellelvis> and the first appearance of Paste Pot Pete. [22:50:47] <MousaThe14> I mean, who'da thunk freaking The Wizard and Paste Pot Pete were introduced as Strange Tales baddies [22:50:49] <Bocaj> I'd laugh at Paste Pot Pete but he is canonically better than Baron Zemo [22:51:11] <MousaThe14> @Wack'd, yeah, Stan is not subtle. [22:51:26] <MousaThe14> Really trying to sell his heroes on the "They have REAL problems" front. A little too hard [22:51:43] <maxwellelvis> It's a new concept, gotta get it over for Summerslam [22:51:54] <Bocaj> I think he did it better with Spider-man [22:52:05] <Wackd> "We can make money if we go to Hollywood and make a movie! But we're broke, how do we get there?" *two pages earlier establishes they've not sold the Fantasticar yet* [22:52:46] <maxwellelvis> Well, he had Steve Ditko for that. [22:53:00] <maxwellelvis> And the good sense to give Ditko free reign in terms of plotting. [22:53:22] <maxwellelvis> Well, not to the extent of free reign Ditko got with The Question [22:53:22] <Wackd> They've taken a film deal from SM Studios. I...er...hrm [22:53:34] <maxwellelvis> Keep going. [22:53:48] <Wackd> ...oh goddammit SM stands for Sub-Mariner, doesn't it [22:53:59] <MousaThe14> Oh right, ths was a Namor story [22:54:35] <Wackd> I was gonna say I'm surprised they got away with that in 1961 but [22:54:36] <MousaThe14> .... That's exactly who he'd sound like [22:55:04] <MousaThe14> While the Fantastic Four would have powers appropriate to be in some BDSM material.... this is still the 60s [22:55:08] <Bocaj> Listening to the first couple episodes of the Fantasticast it struck me how heavily the early Avengers borrowed from Fantastic Four. [22:55:12] <maxwellelvis> because when I think of a haughty prince from another world whose strength is eclipsed only by the chip on his shoulder, I think of that guy. [22:55:26] <Wackd> The presence of Alfred Hitchcock makes me suspect there are a lot of celeb cameos I'm not catching [22:55:36] <MousaThe14> @Wack'd, there are. [22:55:38] <Bocaj> They fought a shape changing alien in their second issue. They fought Namor. They fought Dr Doom. They fought Kang who was actually Rama-Tut [22:55:59] <MousaThe14> I think Bing Crosby is supposed to be in there. But of course it's all dated so we won't truly know unless we research [22:56:04] <maxwellelvis> To be fair, the Four WERE the faces of Marvel at the time. [22:56:19] <MousaThe14> And apparantly sold well [22:56:46] <MousaThe14> And apparantly the connective tissue of the beginning of the whole danged universe as it was being born as a universe as we know it today [22:57:06] <MousaThe14> Spider-man may have been the crossover bicycle, but the FF got all the first rides [22:57:23] <Wackd> I love that the Sub-Mariner is doing this because hes BORED [22:57:39] <Wackd> "Eh, I've got all this money, figured why not buy a film studio. Why not" [22:57:41] <MousaThe14> I mean, after searching for your people for a while you gotta acquire a few hobbies [22:58:22] <maxwellelvis> He's waiting for Giganto to recuperate and then he's coming back to lay waste to the surface once more. [22:58:55] <Wackd> Oh hey no his ACTUAL plan is to...get the Fantastic Four killed doing stunt work [22:59:05] <Bocaj> Namor is such a petty little shit [23:00:02] <Wackd> Including...making the Human Torch fight magical "savages" [23:00:06] <Wackd> Uuuugh [23:00:15] <maxwellelvis> Then he can capitalize on the infamy his movie will garner for years [23:00:36] <Mukora> Cooooooooooooooooooool [23:02:45] <Wackd> Namor decides to fight the Thing himself, and only wins because--I shit you not--the Thing randomly gets struck by lightning and turned human again [23:02:47] <MousaThe14> Oh cool, my Ben and Johnny picture is actually spreading relatively quickly [23:03:00] <MousaThe14> @Wack'd, that's gonna happen a lot [23:03:02] <Wackd> The only thing pettier than Namor is fate, it seems [23:03:21] <MousaThe14> Convenient becoming Ben Grimm again is a well they return to early and often [23:04:22] <Wackd> "HEY SUE I KICKED ALL YOUR FRIENDS ASSES, MARRY ME" "I would've said yes if you hadn't KICKED ALL MY FRIEND'S ASSES" [23:05:33] <Wackd> And so the 4 return from their traps and they don't even bother to explain why Ben's the Thing again [23:06:43] <Wackd> Sue, stopping the guys from whaling on Namor: "It's 3-on-1! You've never teamed up against anyone before! Except, y'know, Doom. And Mole Man. And Puppet Master. And...uh...basically everyone, thinking about it" [23:07:16] <Wackd> Of course the more compelling argument turns out to be "he still hasn't paid us" [23:08:31] <Wackd> WELP THAT'S OVER [23:08:42] <MousaThe14> @Wack'd, It's different this time, she has will-she-won't-she feelings for the man in the tight shorts and swimmer's build [23:08:52] <MousaThe14> Which will persist for.... quite a bit of time [23:09:18] <maxwellelvis> You know it's funny how in this universe, a movie HELPS the Fantastic Four deal with their financial woes. [23:09:20] <Wackd> Yeah, I know [23:09:24] <Wackd> I joked about it further up

#1961 and 1962 #Stan Lee #Jack Kirby #The Main Book

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brw · 4 years

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ahhh tell us about ur writing ideas 👀👀👀👀

*rubs hands together evilly* I WILL

basically after,,, reading thru MULTIPLE soulmate aus they were so??? romantic based??? like beyond that string one they all had romantic love as the centre and it’s almost always solely monogamous and honestly as a poly person on the ace spectrum fuck that??????? so uh made my own soulmate au where some people have multiple soulmates sometimes family members are soulmates sometimes it’s ur Bro™™™ sometimes it’s a elderly fisherman living in switzerland and that’s that!!! life is weird bro!!!! and a lot of the time u don’t even realise bc the whole thing is. U Feel Their Emotions™ so like. sometimes you know instantly but a lot of the time you could be standing right next to them and Not Realise because again. idk i like the ‘oh’ moment you get in soulmate aus but also like. love at first sight things are also kinda weird especially if they happen all the time so. made a balance. i’m just. i enjoy soulmate aus for what they are but they NEVER are in my taste so i’m gonna be the change i want to see in the world.

now i’m,,, gonna talk about who i paired with Whom because i am getting overexcited shddsdsd. cut to hide my shame 🙈

Pietro and Wanda thot they were soulmates for a long time and were like “what are the chances!!!” however 😔 when namor comes back n Remembers things after his brief amnesia pietro Feels That and so. f in the chat for wanda shh tho vision has yet to be Made so when that happens she gets some rights

because i like angst sometimes ofc doom’s soulmate is reed. reed has multiple soulmates w/ sue and ben and ofc doom but doom’s only one is reed. they both know this and dated in college when obviously. That Happened™. n for This Purpose i decided that the more aware u are of ur soulmate the more you are in tune with each others emotions and 🙂🙂🙂 you can even feel their pain!!! so! yeah. i just,,, for someone as closed off as victor to have someone be that aware of his emotions All The Time,,, added insult to injury because reed is Not Very Good With Emotions,,, hmm. Food.

ofc hank m and wonder man are soulmates i have a one track mind and they will be the Centre no doubt because i,,, need content to desperately and it is My Burden to make it myself jsdhjsdhjkdh. they won’t know it’s each other tho for a long time bc i like my slow burn also think it would be funny and on brand for hank to b like “fascinating that my soulmate dies and comes back to life fairly often 🤔🤔🤔 at the same time my bestest and closest friend who i may be in Gay Love With who is creepily in tune with me is also dead and also returns to life 🤔🤔🤔 whatever could it mean” sdhjdsd

jean also has multiple because she just has that vibe. ofc scott’s is her, that’s a given dbhshdhd. logan Had One but because he is Old As Fuck they are no longer there can we get an f 😔 but he doesn’t let that stop him or does he so. all good skdhhds

Magnet Man and Ch*rles X*vier are also soulmates because again. angst. also means that even with his stupid bastard helmet erik still can’t get that bitch out of his mind sjdjdj tho it does make the gesture more upsetting.

this may be bc of the mind stone (yes i keep that concept from the mcu in my fics what about it???? it was a good idea!!!!!!) but vision forms bonds with almost Everyone They Come Into Contact With and its a Time™ for everyone involved lmao

my mans Herc originally had Just The One however all gods generally have multiple bc u know Old As Fuck so that got changed when he died the first time and joined Olympus which was Mildly Traumatising, as if setting urself on fire wasn’t enough lmaooooo

inhuman society unlike western society in this one has always been open to people w/ multiple soulmates this is why blackagar has so many Gotdamned wives maximus is also a soulmate bc i said so which makes their interactions more painful for the both of them 😬

hfhjbdddehnb and um 👉👈 yeah!!! i have more Planned Out but this is what i am starting with i Look Forward to writing and 😔 hopefully publishing dsbhdsbdsbhj

#sophie 📗#asks #💛💛💛#soulmate au tag #will probably talk about this mess later so i'm thinking ahead shdhdshsd #anyway. yeah. will be Fun!!!#i just. like soulmate aus conceptually but none of them appeal to me so i... did this dhdchjfv

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imperiuswrecked · 4 years

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OK, here are two pairings and I'm deliberately leaving it open because you I don't want to stifle you, especially if you don't like the pairings or the idea. All I'd like to please see is each gentleman knowing that they can't pull shit with her because she WILL get in that ass!! AND that's one of the many reasons they love and respect her. Pairings: Namor and Ororo AND Dr Doom and Ororo (1)

Sorry this took so long, but I am clearing my inbox and finishing prompts. Thanks for sending one in! Part 2 will be up soon!

Short fic below the cut~

Storm at Sea - Namor/Ororo

The night is darkening round me,The wild winds coldly blow;But a tyrant spell has bound meAnd I cannot, cannot go. - Emily Bronte

Ororo takes a deep breath of the salty sea air as the small ship skimmed over the surface of the black water. Her view ahead was lit only by the moon that peeked out from behind darkening grey clouds. There was a storm coming, she could feel it in the air, could taste the energy on her tongue, could feel the air grow heavy on her skin, the wind hugs her as it moves her unbound pale hair in ripples. Standing on the deck in her nightgown, she should be asleep, but the calling of the storm woke her and she took over watch as Kitty went down for some rest. Kate. She should get used to calling her that but she couldn’t, in her heart she would always be her little Kitty Pryde. Ororo wraps her shawl around her tighter as she moves to stand at the bow of the ship. Waiting for that first crack of lightening against the black sky. She could call the up to start faster but she chooses not to, wanting to see Nature’s glory without manipulation.

“A fine evening for a Storm wouldn’t you say my Lady?”

She whips around to face the voice she hadn’t heard in ages. Namor sits on the railing of the ship with one leg dangling over the edge as the ship moves across a night sea. Water glistens on his exposed skin in the moonlight. He wears black armor and a dark unfathomable expression, she shivers slightly. There were times when Ororo would come across others who held such an otherworldly quality that she wondered if they were human. Many would feel the same about her but she never felt above others, only more connected to the world. Namor was different, there were times when he acted like any other man, arrogant and self assured in his own greatness. Yet there were moments, small fleeting glimpses of something much more other. It spoke of deep water and hands that clutched you as it drags you down into the dark. She crosses her arms and turns her back on him.

“A very fine evening Lord Namor. What brings you up from your domain?”

“All of this is my domain,” He spreads a hand at the ocean, “and as for why… is a chance to spend time in your company not enough?”

Oh he was well spoken, as kings often were, she knew what it was like to be wooed by royalty, and she knew what it was like to be threatened by them too. The waves grew choppy as the wind picked up so she puts her hands on the railing of ship to steady herself and her emotions lest she unleash a tempest.

“So it is my company you desire? Why do I get the feeling that there’s something else too?”

She could feel his presence and the sound of water dripping along the deck as he moved from his position to stand behind her, he was tall, not many men were taller than her. He moves to stand next to her, and she can finally see him again out of the corner of her eye. He had a very handsome profile. His eyes search the sea as if held the answer she asked for.

“How fairs things on Utopia?”

Her face tightens, “Your must be suffering another lapse in memory my Lord, we mutants have settled on Krakoa. Utopia is dead.”

“Different name, same situation.”

“It is not, this time we have far more resources than before. We are united once more.” She counters as her knuckles turn white from clenching the railing too hard. She doesn’t want those thoughts, the ones that came to her in quiet moments; when would the calamity that seemed to plague her life since she was small once again rear it’s head? She saw the look in Polaris’s eyes once when she first came to Krakoa and recognized it because it was the same one Ororo saw in her mirror and it spoke the same fear; When? When would the hammer fall? When would the mutants die on another island while she was unable to stop it?”

“You once spoke to me about how you thought an island could be the salvation of our kind and I foolishly let your words enter my heart and paid the price.”

“I had no hand in fate, no matter what men whisper about me. I control the weather, not the future.”

“Then you should at least plan for any possibility.” Sharp words that could cut a person lesser than her but she will not be cowed.

“I don’t like your tone Namor,” her eyes flash white as she turns to face him and he to her, both looking into each other eyes, “You come here for what? To tell me that we are all doomed? Are you a harbinger of Doom? Whatever it is you may be thinking of planning, I will have you know-” The air crackles with her power, “The mutants on Krakoa are under my protection.”

He watches her and she sees the unease in his eyes. She lets the power dissipate harmlessly into the air in a show of bright light just to drive home the point that she could have shot it straight through his heart if she so wished it, and he could have done nothing to stop her. Lightening illuminates his face and she can see that the sclera of his eyes are as black as his hair, a sharp contrast to her white eyes and hair. Thunder rumbles in the distance as the boat rocks harder.

Namor raised one of his perfectly arched brows at her power display and lowers his head to face her once more, there is a moment of heavy anticipation before that old Namor came forth, the one that was a bit more human and whom she had shared conversations with in the past, “I came to say; should you ever find yourself in deep waters then rest easy knowing you have a friend who can breath beneath the waves.”

Shocked at his sudden change and pledge of friendship, she blurts the first thing that pops into her head, “I can swim just fine on my own.”

He chuckles, “I pray you accept my apology for doubting your capabilities.” He reaches out and moves a piece of her hair behind her ear, fingers lingering for an instant before drawing back. She nods, and her gaze lingers on lips a moment before she shakes herself of the strange feeling that overcame her, and the warm blush to her cheeks.

“You would be welcome in Krakoa.”

“Is that you inviting me Ms. Munroe? Or Xavier?”

“Maybe you’ll have to come to the island to find out.”

“Maybe I will.” He easily moves, small wings flutter, to land on the railing above her as the rain begins to fall. He holds out his hand, “Or maybe you will leave the world behind and find safety in the sea my Lady.”

Suddenly it was so clear why he came, the same loneliness and need to be near people who might understand that was a feeling she was well acquainted with. Still she shakes her head as the water from the sky plasters her hair to her head, and gives him a sad smile.

“I fear no storms my Lord.”

He gives her a nod of respect and silently flips his body backward off the ship and back into the sea, as if he had never been there and the only indication of his presence was the rapid beating of her heart. Ororo turns her eyes to the storm ahead.

#Anonymous #namorororo #namor #ororo munroe #mim writes a thing #thanks for asking!

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dorkforty · 8 years

Text

So I got a little carried away this time.

I had planned for this sixth installment of the Fantastic Four Re-Mix (previous chapters may be found at the link) to zip through several storylines in short form, to get my remaining ideas out of the way so I could go into the big finale in the next chapter. But then I started writing, and my quick synopsis for Arc Thirteen started sprouting ideas and details. One thing lead to another thing, and that thing lead to yet another, and another, and that fourth thing circled back around to make me see the first thing in a new light, so I re-wrote and added more details that lead to yet still more details, and… The next thing I knew, I had eight single-spaced pages (close to 5000 words), just for that one storyline.

I could go back and edit, I suppose, but… I don’t wanna. I like it as-is. It’s a tightly plotted thing, with dialogue, back-story, and scene descriptions that sometimes launch off into flights of super-heroic purple prose that I’d be embarrassed to have written in a less ridiculous setting. But this is a story about monsters and mutants, populated with Mole Kings, Sorcerers Supreme, lost Atlantean royalty, and a metric ton of obscure Asian super heroes that I pulled out from the dark recesses of the internet in a single feverish burst of research. It is sprawling and self-indulgent, and epic in a way that I don’t think previous installments of the FF Re-Mix have been. So I’m afraid you’re stuck with it.

First, though…

Hi! Hello! And welcome to the Fantastic Four Re-Mix! If this is your first time reading these posts… Well, hell. Hit that link above (or this one right here) to go back and see what this mess is all about. Briefly, it’s just me getting some fictional baggage out of my head, and rebooting the Fantastic Four from the ground-up. The FF is my favorite super-team of all time, and I evidently have a massive number of stories I’d like to tell about them. So these are those. Got it? Good.

Also before we get started, there’s a small mess to clean up from our last installment. After I posted that one to the site, I discovered an editing error that had omitted an entire section on the sub-plots that were supposed to be running through the Inhumans storyline. So before we continue on, I’m going to include that section here…

ARC TWELVE ADDENDUM: SUB-PLOTS

(Note: In the spirit of excess that this installment has embraced so fully, I’m expanding on these scenes from what I had written last time out. When you’re on a roll, you might as well go with it…)

Sexy Thing

Frankie Ray and her best frenemy Tura meet Alicia for drinks, and we learn a bit about Tura and Alicia’s past relationship. Tura gives her crap for “playing for the other team,” but Alicia says she’s always been a switch-hitter, and sees no reason to stop now. Frankie, meanwhile, wants deets on Alicia’s sex life with Ben. “He’s just so big, and the rocks… I mean, how does it work?”

Alicia pauses before speaking. But she’s a little drunk, and no shrinking violet even when dead sober. So she dishes.

“Well… The rocks… don’t go all the way down.” (Pause to let that sink in.) “So we’ve got that going for us. But, yeah. It can be a challenge, y’know? There’s things we just can’t do, and…” (shrug) “I’ll be honest. The chafing gets pretty bad sometimes. But overall… it’s good, you know? It’s really good. And I’m…” (lop-sided smile) “…equipped to deal…? With the size difference?”

Frankie’s eyes get big. “Whoosh. More power to ya, girl.”

(Note: This isn’t just salacious detail – though I did think it was high time we got back to salacious detail on the sex life of the Thing. Still, the information that the rocks don’t cover his entire body will actually become a plot point in the next story arc (it may also, if you’re reading between the lines a bit, say something about how much control Ben actually has over his appearance as the Thing – even if it is subconscious). Of course, Alicia’s confession that she has the capacity to have sex with a giant – especially after establishing that Sue very much didn’t – also plays into the on-going sub-plot about the possibility that Alicia’s a shape-shifting Skrull. Which brings us to…)

Puppets and Masters

Alicia’s father Phillip Masters (The Puppet Master, who has already been revealed as a Skrull agent) uses his fame as a puppeteer to arrange a meeting with the anti-Skrull demagogue Gabriel. Though Masters is a B- or C-list celebrity at best, that’s the only kind of celebrity endorsement Gabriel can get. But we also learn that he really agreed to the meeting because he’d like Masters to convince Alicia to float the idea of the FF appearing with Gabriel on television to discuss the Skrull threat. Masters tells him that his daughter is strong-willed, but he’ll see what he can do. But mostly, he just keeps Gabriel talking, so that his psycho-active clay (which he uses to make his puppets) has time to bond with Gabriel from its hiding place inside Masters’ briefcase.

The Temptation of Frankie Ray

After their night out with Alicia, Tura puts the moves on Frankie in the car on their way back to the racetrack. Frankie rebuffs her… but only after a couple of passionate panels. And honestly… Who could resist this?

(Note: The above scene should fall somewhere after Johnny’s attraction to Crystal becomes obvious. But more on that below…)

Love and Beauty

Alicia gets a visit from one of the Men in Black (two mysterious agents who’ve been interviewing people who know the FF for several issues now). It’s the white-haired Man in Black this time, and he asks some pointed questions about Ben’s erratic public behavior, and about why she’s attracted to a man most people would say was a monster. The conversation gives Alicia a chance to expound on her sense of aesthetics, how her curiosity about the way things look – she’s blind, remember – translates into desire. She’s attracted to beauty in whatever form she finds it, and what she “sees” when she touches Ben is beautiful to her. Moreover, what she sees inside him is beautiful, as well. He’s troubled and imperfect, but his flaws only put his kindness and heroism into sharper relief.

The Man in Black nods and smiles, seeming pleased. For the readers, however, her attraction to non-standard (even non-human) beauty could once again play into the suspicions that she’s a Skrull. But her feelings for Ben also seem genuine, which may muddy the field a bit. If she is a Skrull, is she one that’s going to betray her own kind for love?

(Note: At this point, the differences between the two Men in Black are becoming apparent. The dark-haired one seems to not like the FF, and tends to take everything he hears in the worst possible light. The white-haired one, while still asking hard questions, is pleased to hear about the good in Our Heroes.)

Political Doom

This covers a few different scenes, to be spread out over several issues. The Latverian rebels, using weapons given to them by Doom, take control of the southern province of Rotruvia, and declare themselves a sovereign state. Afterward, Doom meets with Namor about the possibility of Atlantis sponsoring their call for aid from the UN.

Meanwhile, with Our Heroes…

The Inhumans arc (as well as this week’s follow-up) will be narrated with excerpts from Lands of Confusion: Exploration Under Duress, by Susan Storm.

One of the big issues, starting with the Microverse arc and continuing on through this week’s storyline, is the question of how much the rest of the team can trust Reed. Or, more precisely, how much Sue can trust him. She still feels lingering resentment over Veronica, the ex-wife Reed never told her about. So when he overcomes Maximus’ charisma in the Inhumans arc and breaks from Sue and Johnny (who were still taken in by him), she takes it personally. Even after they escape Atillan, Sue and Johnny aren’t entirely convinced that they were on the wrong side of the fight.

Also in the Inhumans arc, we saw Johnny getting close to the Inhuman princess Crystal, which only makes sense. She’s a beautiful, intelligent young woman with a heart of gold, and her inherent nobility appeals to Johnny’s more heroic side in a way that the vivacious but (let’s face it) slightly amoral Frankie Raye never will. After Johnny’s moral crisis in the Microverse war, Crystal is exactly the kind of woman he thinks he needs. And Johnny seems handsome and exciting to her, just the sort of thrillingly unpredictable man she’d like to run to while escaping her arranged marriage to Triton.

But there’s something else to remember about her: while Crystal may just be entering adult life by Inhuman standards, that means she’s 70-year-old royalty from an alien culture who was, before she met the FF, slated to become the queen of Inhuman Hell. And as we go forward into the new storyline, that will begin to become apparent…

ARC THIRTEEN: HOT PURSUIT

After the intrigues of the last few arcs, this one’s going to be centered a lot more on action, as the Inhumans Karnak and Gorgon…

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…pursue the team out of Attilan to bring Ben back to stand trial for (the Inhumans believe) killing a ship full of Inhuman scouts during the Thingbeard Incident.

(Because, again… I can’t post this picture often enough.)

One other important thing about this arc: I decided to take inspiration for the current run of stories from another of my favorite Silver Age series: Doctor Strange. At that strip’s height, Steve Ditko plotted out an incredible series of cliffhanger adventures that linked together into an epic that ran for over a year, building on established characters and situations while still expanding the character’s universe, building to ever-greater heights that culminate in a battle between the Dread Dormammu and the living embodiment of everything(!). It’s exciting, bravura storytelling, and I wanted to emulate it here. This really started with the introduction of Medusa in the Frightful Four arc, straight on into the Inhumans arc, and running into this one. Will it go even longer? Read on, and find out…

ONE: THE CHASE BEGINS

An initial encounter with Karnak and Gorgon establishes the chase, and the danger: while the FF could most likely defeat their pursuers in open combat, Karnak’s ability to find the flaws in things enables him to plan devastating surprise attacks. So uncanny is their ability to find and attack the team, no matter how many miles separate them, that it makes them seem more threatening than they really are, and sets Reed to wondering how they’re pulling it off.

He’s got other distractions, though, thanks to Karnak’s psychological warfare. He and Gorgon very much play “bad cop” here, implacable minions of evil king Black Bolt, driving a wedge between the Storms (who were taken in by Maximus’ manipulations) and Reed (who saw through those manipulations). It also makes Sue suspicious of Crystal (a member of Black Bolt’s court), which further splinters the team because of Johnny’s growing affection for the Inhuman girl.

Karnak’s most dramatic psychological warfare tactic, however, is against Ben. In their initial encounter, Karnak punches the Thing square in the chest, putting a large crack in Ben’s rocky hide. While it was just a test-blow for Karnak, something to help him determine the limits of his foe’s toughness, he plays it as if he thought the attack would have split Ben open like a gutted fish. It doesn’t help matters that the crack slowly grows larger as the arc goes on, audibly cracking every time Ben exerts himself. This makes him hesitant in general, and over-protective in future encounters with Karnak.

And not without reason. Because we see Karnak, in several sequences over the arc, figuring out how to actually crack Ben open with a single punch. (Note: good opportunity for some trippy visuals here.) The real key, of course, is Alicia’s earlier confession that the rocks “don’t go all way down.” So while Ben’s protecting his chest, Karnak will eventually figure out that the place to strike is actually the groin.

At any rate. This initial encounter happens while the team is still in Triton’s realm (the Under-Sea), just after Triton leaves them, but before they enter the cave system he’s lead them to. So after a few pages of action, Triton returns to order Karnak and Gorgon off. They refuse, in defiance of Triton’s sovereignty, and the team escapes into the underground while their pursuers battle Triton behind them.

TWO: MOLES

Next, still traversing the caves, the team runs afoul of the MOLE KING, who has moved to his Asian home beneath Bangkok since his initial encounter with the team. There’s some monster-fighting…

…and we get to see the somewhat disturbing “do what thou wilt” society Elder’s outcast Mole People have built for themselves underground. We also meet the Moloids, a native subterranean race that serve as slaves. The Moloids subsist on a diet of pale fungus that the Mole King hordes to further control his underground slave-race. Not that he needs it; they worship him like a god due to his ability to control the monsters. He just limits their food supply because it pleases him to do so. (Scene: the FF break open the fungus vault, hoping to free the Moloids from Elder’s control. Instead, they attack the team for daring to interfere with their god’s plan for them.)

This whole situation breaks down when Karnak and Gorgon attack again. How did they get past Triton? Karnak hints that they won the fight, and have claimed the Under-Sea for Black Bolt. Crystal’s not buying it for a second, and neither is Reed (and they’re right). But things swiftly become too chaotic to give it much thought. Reed pits Elder and the Inhumans against each other, and the team escapes again as Karnak and Gorgon are tied up fighting the mole-monsters.

THREE: THE TOMB

Emerging from the underground miles off the coast, the team finds itself at the source of the Mole King’s strange menagerie of creatures: MONSTER ISLAND! They run afoul of bunches of bizarre Kirby creatures, and discover the source of the island’s strange mutations: a volcanic core composed of an unknown radioactive element. In trying to collapse the cave mouth behind them (thus thwarting Karnak and Gorgon’s pursuit), they unwittingly free the greatest monster of all:

FIN FANG FOOM! He Whose Limbs Shatter Mountains, and Whose Back Scrapes the Sun! Though he’d been trapped in peaceful slumber for centuries, something recently changed. He awoke one day in frozen agony, paralyzed as his flesh began to bubble and boil. And when the boils burst, they birthed monsters. These are the creatures, these SPAWN OF FOOM, that roam Monster Island and serve the Mole King underground, and they’ve continued to be born to this day.

(Scene: as FOOM tells them the story, he pops a boil on his shoulder in demonstration, and a massive, half-formed fetal monster falls, wet and dying, to the ground.)

FOOM thanks the team for freeing him, and in repayment, he deigns to let them live. The rest of humanity, it seems, will not be so lucky. His revenge for his years of torment will be genocide. The FF try to stop him, of course, but they’re badly outmatched, and he slips into the ocean, headed for the Chinese mainland.

FOUR: Pacifica

Giving chase, the team encounters a group of Atlantean soldiers under the command of NAMORA…

…Namor’s long-lost cousin, another human/Atlantean half-breed and a hero of the Pacific campaign in World War II. Namora rules Pacifica, a splinter kingdom that separated from their Atlantean cousins when Atlantis chose to hide from the world. The Pacificans moved halfway around the globe, with the intent of helping the Japanese rebuild after Hiroshima. An unexpected problem arose once they’d settled in, however: Monster Island. Post-war atomic tests caused strange mutations, Namora tells Our Heroes, and the monsters haunt the Pacific to this day, searching for prey. Devoting themselves to protecting the world from these creatures, the Pacificans live on a constant war footing, and (Reed surmises) suffer from more than a little PTSD.

Geographical Note: Back in the Atlantis arc, I said that Attuma’s people came from the Mariana Trench. Which I, mistakenly, thought was in the Atlantic Ocean at the time. Now I know better.

Just goes to show that research matters…

Reed explains (Reedsplains?) the truth of Monster Island: the atomic tests didn’t cause mutations. They affected that strange molten core above the TOMB OF FIN FANG FOOM, and caused the monsters to be birthed from his flesh. The SPAWN OF FOOM have plagued the Pacificans for decades (a span of time that seems “recent” to the immortal FOOM), and now the real cause of all their woes is headed for China.

Namora and her men join the hunt for FOOM, and they all fight him briefly in Taiwan, where he’s stopped for sustenance (they find him eating people like candy). But then Karnak and Gorgon attack once again, and FOOM decides that his little snack has fortified him enough to get him to the mainland. He wouldn’t want to spoil his appetite for the feast, after all…

FIVE: SPLITTING THE PARTY

Kind of a complicated issue here, with numerous small scenes moving the story forward. But we pick up where the last issue left off, with…

The Settling of Petty Concerns:

The team faces off against Karnak and Gorgon on the beach in Taiwan, filled with fear and resentment, and uncertain of the outcome. Gorgon blusters and Karnak taunts, still playing the villain, still working the psychological edge. They care not for human matters and human death. If FOOM wants to eat humans, let him! He’ll find Attilan no easy prey! This sets off Namora, who joins the face-off on the side of the FF. She doesn’t care what issue all these surface-dwellers have against each other, but if these two new interlopers are going to interfere in the chase for FOOM, she wants them dead. It looks like it’s about to go down when, suddenly, Crystal intervenes.

She tells (no, ORDERS) Karnak to drop the act. This is not the kind man she knows, the patient teacher who reveals his students’ shortcomings only to help them grow past their faults. And Gorgon is no lumbering monster! He’s a poet and a lover of animals, enemy only to the cruel. And cruelty is what they’re showing these fine people, these heroes, devoted to learning and the protection of the weak. A far greater threat than some centuries-old crime looms over them all now, a threat to all life on Earth, and as members of the Family Royale, the best Inhuman society has to offer, they had damn well better lend a hand to ending it.

Shamed, Karnak and Gorgon bow to Crystal’s superior morality. Their issue with Benjamin Grimm is not settled, he says. But if this FOOM is as great a threat as Crystal says, they can do no less than to follow her example.

Namora, exasperated, rolls her eyes. “If you’re done with all this idiotic posturing, can we please get back to saving the world?”

The Plan:

Karnak, though he caught only the briefest glimpse of FIN FANG FOOM, believes that fighting the monster is futile. His weaknesses are few, and inconsequential. The forces they have arrayed against him now could do little more than slow the beast down. They need more power to defeat him.

Reed agrees, but thinks that, more crucially, they need better intelligence. Someone put FOOM to sleep before, and they must discover how to do it again.

Namora says that she can help with both those things. She’s been working in the Pacific for 70 years, and has allies all across Asia. Allies she can gather quickly to fight the beast and, perhaps, to give them more information.

So they split up. With Ben piloting the Fantasticar, Reed and Karnak go to gather information. To aid them in this, Namora pulls forth a medallion in the shape of an eye, and calls on THE ANCIENT ONE, Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme!

Yeah, but… Never mind Ditko’s usual Ayn Rand crap. Once he hears their problem, the Ancient One tells them to meet him on Monster Island.

Meanwhile, Namora leads everyone else in the fight against FIN FANG FOOM, gathering allies along the way. To aid in this, Karnak reveals how he and Gorgon had been tracking the FF so easily: he produces a whistle to summon LOCKJAW, the Inhumans’ teleporting dog, who will happily follow the commands of Crystal and Gorgon.

Raising the Alarm:

Namora’s team heads out across across Asia, gathering a mismatched collection of heroes, villains, and everything in-between (Namora doesn’t care much about such fine moral distinctions). These characters won’t get much more than cameo appearances in the big fight scenes, but since I fell down the rabbit hole that is researching funnybook characters on-line, and did it for a full three hours, I figure I should at least give you a list of names and descriptions:

The Red Ghost (Considering that Russian communism is long-dead, I figure that a modern-day Red Ghost would probably be Chinese. And as long as we’re making changes, let’s make him female, too. Get a little gender parity up in this Asian Sausage Party. Like the original, she’s a government spy with the power of intangibility. Unlike the original, she has another, secret power to be revealed later.) Sunfire (Japanese pop star super hero, with flame powers!) The Silver Samurai (Troubled warrior with a laser-powered sword!) The Mandarin (Chinese megalomaniac, with ten rings of power!)

The Yellow Claw (Chinese crime lord!) The Jade Claw (Daughter of the Yellow Claw – and his greatest rival!) Jimmy Woo, Agent of SHIELD (Head of SHIELD’s Asian office!) Xorn (Mutant holy man with a sun for a head!) Colonel Fang (Lycanthropic Chinese military hero!) Chen Lu the Radioactive Man (Scientist hero of Red China!) The Iron Monk (Invulnerable Tibetan Holy Man!) The Monkey King (Trickster hero of legend!) Darkstrider (An eight-limbed Korean Spider-Man!) Khrag Thung the Enlightened Vengeance (Tibetan Ghost Rider!) Go of the Radiant Light (aka Go-Devil, a Japanese schizophrenic torn between good and evil!) Mystical Lao-Tse (Chinese sorcerer!) Fat Cobra (The Super-Sumo!) Brother Power and Sister Sun (Solar-powered leaders of a Vietnamese religious cult!) Red Ronin (Giant robot piloted by Japanese boy hero Rob Takaguchi!) The Head (The severed head of a genius, with a weaponized flying life support system!)

(Yes, all those guys are existing Marvel characters, albeit with a tweak here and there to make them fit the tone a bit better. But I figured you had to see The Head to believe it. He was a World War II villain who fought the Young Allies.)

At the Tomb of Fin Fang Foom:

Meanwhile, the fact-gathering team meets on Monster Island, at the TOMB OF FIN FANG FOOM. Reed takes some readings of the strange radioactive element, and Karnak recognizes it immediately: it’s irradiated Terrigen. Karnak speculates that the Terrigen may have lain dormant until the atomic tests. The Inhumans themselves have to activate the stuff after they mine it, and they use mild doses of radiation to do so. This gross over-exposure, however, may have caused it to birth monsters. He doesn’t understand how this batch could have been here, though. His grandparents’ generation mined out all the local Terrigen deposits more than 400 years ago, and now have to travel the globe to find it.

Before they can explore the implications of that, however, the Ancient One arrives, mystically teleporting in from afar. He apologizes for the delay, explaining that he thought it best to collect a friend:

AGED GENGHIS, a man older even than the Ancient One himself! Genghis seems distracted. Lost in thought. “A very wise man,” the Ancient One says. “In his day. He taught me everything I know. But he had the misfortune to discover the secret of immortality.” When asked why that’s a misfortune, the Ancient One seems startled. “Ah! Yes. I forget sometimes. You are men of miracles, men of science. But you see… Immortality has its limits. Aged Genghis endures, but the human mind can only hold so much time, so many memories. And he’s lived so very long. Longer than any other human being in history, I suspect. So now he’s senile. And quite mad. But if anyone knows the story of FIN FANG FOOM, it is him.”

(Note on Aged Genghis: He swings unpredictably from comedic to scary, cheerful to grumpy, addlepated to deadly serious. And though he’s supposedly a senile old hermit who has no contact with the world outside his cave, his speech is peppered with modern phrasings and slang, much moreso than the Ancient One. He’s in the background of every panel, usually levitating, hovering in mid-air with his legs in the lotus position, not seeming to really pay attention to his surroundings. But before every new revelation or turning point (even in panels that cut to other locations), he makes a small mystical hand gesture that goes unnoticed by everyone else (and maybe by the reader as well). It may be something he does in his madness, or he may be shaping events with magic on a deeper, more subtle level than even the Ancient One can perceive. He takes a particular liking to Ben.)

“I know this place!” Aged Genghis suddenly exclaims. “This is where Tensu buried the dragon!”

Pressed for details, he can’t remember much. Only that they fed the dragon something to make it docile. “Something Tensu made. Clever, clever, that Tensu. Mostly, it was those mushrooms. The ones I had to go underground to find. Deep down where the mole-men live. They weren’t happy to give up their food, oh no indeed.” (Close in on his face, which suddenly looks hardened and dark.) “But I can be very persuasive.”

Reed knows immediately what he’s talking about: the Mole King’s fungus-horde. And something else clicks into place: if the mushrooms could be used to make FIN FANG FOOM docile, surely they could be used to command his Spawn. Another good reason to control the Moloid food supply.

And luckily, the Ancient One knows who Tensu is: an ancient being now known as Dragon Tensu, a dragon trapped in human form. Truly immortal, and with a dragon’s gift for memory. The Ancient One has only met him once or twice, but he thinks Tensu will help them… if they can find him.

So they split the teams again. Karnak whistles for Lockjaw, and travels to where Namora is gathering her forces to meet FIN FANG FOOM at the coast. There, he recruits Sue and the Red Ghost for a stealth mission back to the Mole Kingdom.

Meanwhile, Ben, Reed, the Ancient One, and Aged Genghis search for Dragon Tensu.And at the coast, the fighting begins. FIN FANG FOOM ravages the mainland, even with the full might of the the Asian super-powered community arrayed against him. It’s clearly a hopeless battle, one that can only buy time for the others…

SIX and SEVEN: THE LONGEST DAY

These two issues will jump back and forth between the three missions, but I’ll handle each separately here, for matters of simplicity.

The Mole King’s Larders: The Mole Kingdom is still in disarray after the fight with Karnak and Gorgon. Three of the mole-monsters lay dead in the central square, Moloid slaves out butchering the corpses. Whether for food or easier disposal, it’s hard to say. But the chaos means that things aren’t very well-guarded. So, as Sue makes them all invisible, they head directly for the larders. The Red Ghost passes through the walls and starts handing mushrooms out to the others. Unknown to them, for every one she collects for the mission, she’s collecting another two for the Chinese government, passing them along via her secret power: the ability to open up holes in space, ala the Spot.

Thaaaat’s right. Respect, bitches!

She lets the others know when the Larder is empty, and Sue seems confused. There were a lot more mushrooms in there than this when the FF opened it earlier. Assuming that the Mole King moved the rest, and hoping they have enough, they prepare to leave. And that, of course, is when the Mole King confronts them. Karnak explains what’s happening on the surface, but Elder doesn’t believe him. It looks like they’re going to have to fight their way out, but Karnak, ordering the other two back into the Larder, delivers a kick to the entrance, bringing down tons of rock to block passage. They’re sealed in, but it gives Karnak time to summon Lockjaw, and they’re gone. The Mole King rages behind them, gathering an army of Moloids, and calling for a mole-monster known only as The Mountain…

The Search for Dragon Tensu: Reed and his team retreat to the Ancient One’s Sanctum Sanctorum high in the Himilayas, where he works a complex spell of location. “If a dragon does not wish to be found, it is not an easy thing to pry him out of hiding.” (Note: good opportunity for some crazy Ditkoesque imagery as he works his magic.) The spell succeeds, and they find Tensu in Hong Kong, where he lives a life of opulent seclusion among that city’s sea of humanity, admitting only the occasional petitioners of favors, people who seek the miracles of Dragon Tensu.

(Tensu is such an insanely obscure character – appearing in, as far as I know, only one eight-pager from the Timely era – and being a very different character than the one I’m writing, besides – that I don’t have a picture of him. So I’m gonna suggest you just picture Lo Pan from Big Trouble in Little China, and have done with it.)

Tensu greets the Ancient One with a sort of distant respect, but obviously sees Our Heroes as little more than another set of humans coming to him with their petty concerns. He either doesn’t recognize Aged Genghis, or pretends not to.

The Ancient One explains the issue to him, and Tensu flies into an arrogant rage, angered that some foolish mortals have undone his hard work (See? Now the Lo Pan thing is easier, isn’t it?). Ben cracks a joke about his attitude, and Tensu declares their audience with him over. And that’s when Aged Genghis walks up and slaps him. “Get over yourself! All you did was mix the damn potion! I’m the one who gathered the ingredients! The one who tricked the dragon into drinking it! I even picked the location of his tomb! And WHY?” He starts poking Tensu in the chest, and the Dragon suddenly seems cowed in the face of the old man’s assault. “Because YOU. WERE. LONELY!”

And so the truth comes out. Tensu, trapped in human form and outcast from other dragons, conjured up FIN FANG FOOM for companionship. FOOM was tiny at first, no bigger than a finger. He rode in Tensu’s pocket, and learned from Tensu’s wisdom. But over time, he grew. As Tensu’s arrogance and power increased, so did FOOM. Eventually, he was a giant. Seven stories tall. All of Tensu’s power and pride, given physical form. He ripped it all away from his creator, and set off to conquer the world. That’s when Tensu, diminished, sought the aid of Genghis, then Earth’s Sorcerer Supreme. Together, they laid their plans against FOOM. Tensu had made him indestructible, to protect his tiny, weak companion from harm. But now that he was a giant, that invulnerability made him unstoppable. So Tensu concocted a potion to control him, Genghis tricked him into drinking it, and Tensu ordered him to sleep, far away from people, where they thought he would never be disturbed.

Appropriately shamed, Tensu agrees to help.

Front Line Combat:

As all this quieter action’s going on, Namora leads the assault on FIN FANG FOOM. We’ll see this in short scenes of escalating desperation, FOOM laying waste to the Chinese coast, and advancing toward Hong Kong in spite of the heroes’ attempts to stop him. He’s constantly eating people, as well, scooping up soldiers and civilians alike in great handfuls, whenever he gets the chance. Namora takes notice, and comes to believes that he needs to eat to replenish his power. And she’s right. FOOM has radiation sickness from his time under the Terrigen Core, and is eating prodigious amounts to fight off its effects. It won’t kill him, but he needs food to keep his power levels up. So Namora calls for an evacuation in advance of his assault, getting as many people out of his way as possible, and her team falls back. In response, FOOM simply goes back out to sea to eat a few whales, and resurfaces in Hong Kong harbor, replenished. Issue seven ends with a desperate last stand in an abandoned Hong Kong, as FIN FANG FOOM rises from the depths.

(Like this, but less… Turtle-y…)

EIGHT: FOOMWAR!

The Double-Sized Conclusion!

It all comes together in Hong Kong. Karnak’s team delivers the mushrooms to Tensu’s sanctum. The potion is mixed, but Tensu warns that they may not have gathered enough mushrooms to make it effective. Karnak and Sue turn to confront the Red Ghost about the shortage at the Mole King’s Larder. But she’s gone.

Meanwhile, the Battle of Hong Kong has begun. Namora and her allies, desperate and exhausted, fight a losing battle, and are on the verge of defeat when Ben pilots the Fantasticar on a suicide dive directly into FOOM’s face. There’s an explosion and a scream from FOOM. The Fantasticar, wrecked, goes bouncing off to crash in the street below. The demoralized super-army looks on in horror. But when the smoke clears, they see Ben standing in FOOM’s screaming mouth, holding it open by the teeth. Reed, wrapped around Ben’s waist, tosses the potion bottle down FOOM’s throat and Ben leaps away to land safely on the street below.

FOOM staggers in disbelief, choking and clutching at his throat. The Ancient One, Aged Genghis, and Dragon Tensu materialize in mid-air, before his blinking eyes. Tensu speaks. “Hello, old friend. I believe you’ve caused enough trouble for one day. Time to rest.” He smiles and waves his hand…

And FIN FANG FOOM laughs.

The potion didn’t work! FOOM shouts in triumph, and swats the three sorcerers from the air. The fighting starts over again, the exhausted heroes having lost hope. All seems lost.

But then there’s a rumbling from below, and up, through the streets of Hong Kong, toppling buildings in its path, THE MOUNTAIN emerges from the depths! The Mole King and an army of Moloids ride its mighty back as it rises. Up, up… Taller than the city! Taller than FOOM! It towers over the great beast, its every movement a creaking, crumbling roar!

Then the Moloids, in numbers too vast to count, go running up its back, off the cliff of its brow, onto FOOM’s head… and into his waiting maw. FOOM laughs in triumph again, these tiny creatures like lemmings, feeding his strength! Feeding his power! Feeding his… Then his rant trails off, and his eyes grow cloudy. Something’s wrong. The Mole King steps to the edge of the Mountain’s brow, smiling. “Hello, my friend. My name is Rupert. But you can call me…” (the smile twists) “Master.”

Down below, Reed puts it together. The mushrooms allow control of FOOM, and the Moloids eat nothing but the mushrooms. So Elder fed him Moloids until he choked on them. And now… The Mole King controls FOOM!

Thinking quickly, Ben gets Red Ronin (the giant robot) to throw him to the top of the Mountain. Flying through the air, fist-first, shouting…

…he damn near takes Elder’s head off. The Mountain, not much of a thinker left to its own devices, withdraws below. Ben leaps off before it goes, but the Mole King goes down with it.

Back on the streets, FOOM still stands, dazed, waiting for instructions. Dragon Tensu, bloody but unbowed, appears at his feet. “As I was saying, old friend. It’s time for you to rest, now.” FIN FANG FOOM sits, obedient, and gazes upon Tensu like a loving hound.

The crisis over, we end with a series of epilogues:

The Pacificans aid the people of Taiwan and Hong Kong in rebuilding after FOOM’s assault.

The Red Ghost reports to her superiors on the mind-control potential of the subterranean mushrooms, and tells them where they can find more. In the background, we see three caged apes…

Dragon Tensu and his allies return FIN FANG FOOM to his tomb on Monster Island, and order him to sleep. The Ancient One sets wards on the volcano to ensure that he’s not disturbed again.

The Inhumans remove the Terrigen core from Monster Island, taking it back to Attilan for study, ensuring that no more monsters will be birthed from his flesh.

Jimmy Woo directs a SHIELD operation to cordon off Monster Island, keeping the curious out, and the monsters in.

Namora, suddenly freed from the responsibility of protecting the world from Monster Island, ponders what Pacifica will do next. Perhaps it’s time, Reed suggests, to contact Atlantis.

Johnny works to repair the Fantasticar, which is already starting to pull itself back together.

The Inhumans prepare to leave with the Terrigen Core, but Crystal elects not to go with them. Karnak acquiesces to her desires. Her wisdom, he says, has proven itself superior to his own.

Then Karnak turns to thank the FF for their role in the crisis, apologizing for his earlier manipulation of them. He takes special care to thank Ben, offering him a handshake. Ben hesitates, nervous, then accepts.

Karnak: “You are a mighty warrior, Benjamin Grimm. A worthy adversary, and a great ally. It has been my pleasure to work with you through the recent crisis.”

Ben (smiling): “Y’know, I had you all wrong, Karnak. Yer a soldier. Ya had a job ta do, and you were doin’ it. No shame in that.”

Karnak (smiling): No shame, indeed. There is, however–”

Ben’s smile becomes frozen. He coughs blood. Then his face splits in two.

Karnak (face now impassive, and splattered with Ben’s blood): “…much shame in this.”

We pull back to see that, while shaking Ben’s hand, Karnak has issued a ONE-INCH PUNCH just below the belt, and Ben’s rocky hide has split down the middle. He falls to the ground, unconscious, his outer shell of rocks falling away on both sides. Beneath is a bloody mess.

Before the rest of the team can react, Lockjaw teleports Karnak and Ben away. As they fade out, Karnak’s voice informs the team that they have earned the right to attend Ben’s trial in three days’ time, and offer whatever defense they can…

TO BE CONTINUED!!!

NEXT: Time Travel! Treachery! Doom Triumphant! And… THE TRIAL OF THE THING!

Fantastic Four Re-Mix, Part Six: Hot Pursuit! So I got a little carried away this time. I had planned for this sixth installment of the…

#Aged Genghis #Alicia Masters #Clobberin Time #Crystal #Dr Doom #Fantastic Four #Fantastic Four Remix #Fin Fang Foom #Gorgon #Jimmy Woo #Karnak #Mole Man #Monster Island #Namora #Red Ghost #Red Ronin #The Ancient One

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imperiuswrecked · 5 years

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pssst.. please spill the doomor hcs

I have a ton of them that I mainly keep thinking up for future writing but hoo boy where do I start? I think the thing about Doomor is that it can be very cracky/fun or very deeply intense depending on the way you want to see it.

Doomor Headcanons:

- Victor takes over a neighboring country so that he has access to the shore line and is able to get to the sea whenever he wants to.

- Both men do not like others touching them without permission. (This is stated alot in Namor’s comics too, he doesn’t like people to touch him) They like to be in control of who has that kind of familiarity.

- Namor and Doom are both social outcasts, something Victor mentions when they teamed up once, and so they both know the struggle of trying to fit into a world that rejects them for who they are. This creates a kinship between them and they have this mentality of: we can’t trust the world or each other but we can trust each other just a little bit more than the world.

- Victor is fascinated by Namor’s perfect form, he is a connoisseur of all beautiful things and so he really enjoys that Namor leaves next to nothing for the imagination.

- Namor is the only person Doom regularly takes off his mask around, or feels comfortable enough to do so (canon since he was unmasked a couple of times they spoke) Namor thinks Victor’s scars are a symbol of his survival and he loves them, in time he convinces Victor they are not ugly.

- Victor likes to have control of the relationship, but Namor is a wild card and never likes to give in, so they butt heads a lot over lots of things until they compromise.

- Victor calls Namor: my dear a lot (canon) and i like to think he calls him other pet names and Namor scoffs at them but he secretly likes it.

- Namor brings back things from the ocean for Victor, something that is rare and hard to get.

- My Namor/Doom headcanon about how giving someone a shell means you love/are fond of them in Atlantean customs. which came from a beautiful fan art here and was followed up by another art here

- Namor likes to talk about the oceans, sea life, and other marine biology, and since Doom likes to study things alot its one of the few places where their interests over lap.

- Both are terrible to each other when they play video games (art here)

- Victor changes all the pools in his castle to salt water ones since he knows that chlorine hurts Namor’s gills.

- Both are just utter drama queens and do fight a lot and raise all kinds of hell whenever they want too and mainly annoy the FF

- Doom rarely visits Atlantis, but when he does Namor keeps him as long as he can and the same for Victor when Namor comes to visit Latveria. Both are often busy with their kingdoms.

- Namor likes to be the big spoon but Victor doesn’t like to cuddle, so they usually start off sleeping with space between them until later in the middle of the night Victor wakes up when Namor cuddles him and he has to decide if he like sit or not and usually doesn’t push him away.

Ok so crack/fun headcanons!

- My Namor and Doom sitcom that marvel should make asap.

- Namor and Doom are the unofficial eccentric uncles to the FF kids and even though they hate it, somehow they get roped into dinner and also babysitting, they send gifts for birthdays that aren’t normal gifts like a giant sea squid, or a giant doom bot, etc.

- Namor and Doom are both too stubborn to do anything about the feelings they have for each other OR Namor is too freaking obtuse to notice that Victor is literally trying to propose every time they team up to give the FF a headache so it’s up to Susan/FF to finally whaps Namor upside the head and inform him that Doom is is his not so secret admirer. Namor and Doom get together and honeymoon off in Latveria or Atlantis and the FF finally get a break from their shenanigans but when they return they then proceed to raise even more hell and the FF regrets matching making.

- Them both being disasters in any situation basically.

NSFW headcanons under the cut~

- Victor tops, no question, Namor is a power bottom.

- Victor has a choking kink.

- Namor has a bondage kink.

- Dom/Sub is a big part of their relationship

- Victor often gets jealous of the people who throw themselves at Namor and does what he can to keep him close, often times trying to lock him away but Namor rebels at that.

- The have fucked on the Cabal meeting table, as well as almost every room in Victor’s castle, and in Namor’s too, and also on one memorable occasion in the Baxter Building.

- They have really intense and hot sex, often breaking property and many walls in the process. When they fight and have make up sex its time to evacuate the premises because they are very vocal.

- Gentle sex is very rare and cherished between them. This doesn’t happen often.

#doomor #namor #namor the sub-mariner #doctor doom #victor von doom #my headcanons #namor headcanons #long post #i had to rewrite this bc the first time my internet died but i tried to remember everything i could and im sure i have more i forgot that i #thanks for asking!#Anonymous

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marblesarelost · 7 years

Text

Change Your Mind, Change Your Life

Chapter 7

She wasn’t surprised to see Natasha leaning against the wall outside her office at five o’clock that afternoon, half-smirking with worried eyes. “Kotyonok.”

“Tante.” That drew the smirk into a small smile as Natasha walked with her to the private elevator, both staying silent until the doors closed before them. Then ‘Tash slid her hand into Darcy’s, interlocking their fingers. “He called,” Darcy said quietly. “At like, five this morning. To tell me what was going on. That he had to leave.”

“That was good of him.”

“Yeah.” Darcy bit her lip. “It sucks.”

“Yes.” The elevator stopped, and Natasha stepped out first, her grip firm, leading Darcy to the apartment she shared with Clint rather than going to Darcy’s. Clint met them at the door with Natasha’s vodka and iced glasses, taking Darcy’s bag and shoving her gently toward the couch.

“So,” Natasha began after all the glasses had emptied once. “The date went well?”

“Yeah,” Darcy sighed, holding her glass out for ‘Tasha to refill. “Really well. We…shit, I’ve got the party at --“

“Nope. Secretary of State canceled it, due to the new developments,” Clint interrupted. “Keep going.”

“We talked about getting together again later this week,” Darcy said after a second. “We had fun, it was a good time, I mean…I think he likes me. I think he really likes me.”

“Who could not?” Natasha purred. “You were lovely.”

“He held my hand,” Darcy added, blushing. “Took his glove off for the second --“ Clint choked, vodka dribbling out over his lower lip, and both Darcy and Natasha looked at him, waiting for him to breathe.

“Wait,” he said between coughs. “Wait, what?”

“He took his glove off and held my hand?”

“You’ve touched --“ Clint coughed again. “-- Victor Von Doom? You’ve touched his skin? He has skin?”

“Oh for God’s sake, Clint, he’s not Darth Vader,” Darcy sighed, but when she looked at Natasha, she saw how carefully blank her expression was. “What?”

“Doom doesn’t do that,” Natasha said quietly. “Doom never takes off his armor in public. Any part of it. I have known of him, I have watched him, I have studied him, at various times, for various employers, looking for weaknesses, for slips. Darcy. He never, never, removes any piece of the armor at any time. Not even in his castle. Perhaps in his bedroom, he is human, he must sleep, but…no.”

“Well, we held hands during the first act, and it was okay. Kind of weird, because his glove is…it’s metal, but it’s really super flexible. Not uncomfortable, it didn’t bother me or anything. Then I went to the bathroom at intermission with Jennifer, we came back, we all had some wine, we settled in for the second act…yeah. Yeah, he had his glove off through the whole second act. But it was dark, and pretty private.” Both the spies were looking at her now as if she’d grown another head.

“Well,” Clint recovered first. “So you guys went out last night and then…”

“Yeah.” Darcy nodded, slumping backwards against the couch. “Then I got a call at five this morning saying he had to go, that the New Soviet were pushing their luck.”

“And you didn’t come tell us,” Natasha said. “You just got up and went to work.”

“I asked if he wanted me to get Tony or Steve, he said no. That the Avengers showing up could make the situation even worse,” she sighed. “My hands were, they are, tied. There’s nothing the Avengers can do. There’s nothing I can do. It’s up to the Kremlin now.”

Natasha filled her glass again, raised an eyebrow at Clint when he pushed his glass closer. “You choked.”

“I was surprised,” he retorted. Natasha snorted, but refilled his glass. “Thank you.”

“It is after midnight in Latveria now,” Natasha said, picking up her glass. “Have you heard from him since this morning?”

“No.” Darcy tried to keep her lip from trembling, and thought she’d done a fairly good job of it. “He’s probably way busy.”

“No news is good news,” Clint added. “No news means he’s not out there on the front lines, no news means nobody’s infiltrated Castle Doom. Because if the New Soviet were able to get an assassin in there, they’d be crowing about it.”

“Were you seen with him last night by anyone?” Natasha asked suddenly.

“We were at Hamilton, ‘Tash, it was crowded as hell.” The spies exchanged a look, and Darcy looked back and forth between them. “What?”

“Take it that you were, then,” Clint said. “Listen, you don’t leave the building without at least three security agents for a while, okay?”

“What? No, we had one date, we’ve never been seen together before --“

“Crimson Dynamos,” Clint said brusquely. “You and ‘Tasha approached him and Namor at the party. You went inside with him. You came back out with him. You’re a legit target, Darce. At least three agents, I’d feel better if you didn’t go out without an Avenger or an X-Man for a while, to be honest.”

“There were other observers besides the Dynamos,” Natasha added. “I know there were. And you had a nice long conversation with him outside, in clear view, while everyone else was busy. I am not scolding you; I am pointing this out. They know who you are. They know he has shown interest in you, and they know that you are a member of our support staff. You are likely a high priority target now for an extraction and kidnapping team.”

“Christ,” Darcy muttered, holding out her glass again. “Top me up.”

“He has likely thought of this now as well,” Natasha went on. “If things went as well as you think they did, it would not surprise me to wake up tomorrow morning to see the building flanked by Doombots.”

“Oh, surely not, he’s got to know what kind of fit Tony would throw over that,” Darcy argued. “You want to talk about a pissing contest, Christ, Doombots versus the Iron Legion, Tony’d go batshit.” Natasha shrugged, sipping her vodka.

“Perhaps he will not send them overtly,” she said. “But if you do not hear from the Latverian Embassy offering you extra security within, say, the next forty-eight hours? I will be very surprised indeed. And what do you think that security will be made of?”

“Doombots,” Darcy sighed, collapsing against the sofa. “God. Tony will be livid.”

“Well, if nothing else, you’ll be able to tell just how much he likes you,” Clint grinned. “What would you say, Tash? Three if he’s really into her?”

“I would feel better if he hired someone, but yes, at least three,” Natasha said, stone-faced. “Perhaps the best of both worlds; perhaps --“

“Not Wade. Just not Wade,” Clint said, looking up at the ceiling and pressing his hands together as if he were praying. “Oh please God not Wade.”

“You’re both horrible,” Darcy grinned. “First, again, one date, hello? Second, he’s got a little more on his mind than me right now. Third, hiring somebody? Like who?”

“Deadpool,” Natasha said frankly, and Clint dropped back against the couch, shaking his head violently.

“No, no, no, no, no, not Wade, just not Wade, I don’t care who else --“

“I have heard that Creed is available; who would you rather, then, Deadpool or Sabretooth?” Natasha asked, raising one eyebrow. “The worst thing about Wade is that he talks too much.”

“Too much? He never stops!” Clint exclaimed.

“And Sabretooth is apt to lose his humanity and try to kill everyone,” Natasha snapped back. “Wade will shut up if you are firm enough.”

“What about LeBeau? I’ll call him myself, you’d like Remy, Darce, he’s long and tall and made out of sex,” Clint offered.

“Yes, because her beau is going to hire someone who would try to charm his way into her pants,” Natasha pointed out. Darcy sat back with her vodka, pleasantly buzzed, waiting for the two spies to stop arguing.

“Guys. It doesn’t matter because he’s not going to do any such thing,” Darcy said quickly when both of them had paused. “One date, you guys, I’m not a princess, I’m not anybody important. He barely knows my name.”

“Would you care to place a wager?” Natasha offered, and Darcy considered. If Nat was sure enough that she was willing to bet on it…because Nat didn’t bet unless it was a sure thing.

“Okay, maybe, but at best it’ll be a single Doombot. I actually think it might be one or two of his Latverian Embassy heavies, if anything at all.”

“We will see,” Natasha said, winking. “Probably by morning.”

Intelligence briefings, meetings with his allies and their generals along with his own, working out a cohesive united defensive strategy that would save as many lives and materiel as possible, calculating with his military advisors how much ordnance and how many super tanks and operations teams to drive them could be spared, as well as how quickly the reinforcements would arrive at their destinations, all these things had filled his time from the moment he had arrived home.

Now, however, all that was left was the waiting and the hope that the New Soviet would realize what a mistake they were making; the EU had already issued a condemnatory statement against the aggressive movements and escalation in Ukraine, the UN were trying to open up diplomatic relations. Hopefully, this would all have been for naught. For now, all that was left was to wait and see. He gave orders that he was not to be disturbed save for an emergency, and went to his rooms. He had been awake for over 24 hours, and though he could remain conscious and coherent for up to four days, he preferred not to if it was not necessary, even if it was only late afternoon.

He took a shower, soaked for a bit, then went to bed, closing his eyes and breathing deeply and rhythmically in order to invite sleep. Then Darcy’s features passed behind his eyelids, and he sat up, cursing as he picked up the phone beside the bed. It took several minutes for the international call to go through, but eventually she answered.

“Avengers Initiative, this is Darcy Lewis.”

“Darcy.”

“Victor,” she said, and he could hear the relief in her voice. Damn.

“I hope this is not a bad time,” he began.

“No, no, I just sat down behind my desk. How are you? Is everything okay?”

“I am exhausted,” he admitted. “And once we hang up, I intend on sleeping until either a servant wakes me, or I wake on my own. But I am well, so far.”

“Good. Stay that way,” she said firmly, and he had to chuckle at the cheek of the young woman giving orders, even faux-orders, to him. “Seriously, though, I’m really glad you called.”

“As am I. How are you?”

“I’m okay. I’ve got a little tiny bit of a headache because I drank too much of Nat’s vodka last night, fair warning, don’t drink with the Black Widow, she can drink anybody but Steve and Thor under the table.”

“I will keep that in mind. You said there was a function you had to attend last night. Were you able to avoid it, then?”

“Nah, it got canceled. The Secretary of State was too busy with the UN because of what’s going on over there. It’s okay, I didn’t really want to meet the president’s kids anyway.” He snorted.

“Inform me if the sons are rude. The daughter is much better bred; she takes after her mother, the first wife.”

“Oh, I fully expect Junior and Nimrod to be douchecanoes,” she said airily. “I actually got a gown that covers all the assets just for them.” It took a moment for him to parse what she meant, and his free hand grasped his coverlet tightly at the thought of either of the president’s sons being ungentlemanly with her.

“As I said, inform me,” he repeated himself, carefully keeping his voice steady. “There are certain business dealings with Chernaya that I will gladly interfere in, should they need a reminder of how well connected you are.” And that reminded him. “You have not left Avengers Tower, have you?”

“Not since yesterday morning, no, but I’m going to have to eventually.”

“If it would not be too presumptuous, would you do me the kindness of informing the Embassy if you do? They will send a security detail for you. I have no fear for you within Avengers Tower itself; even if they are called away, Stark’s security team and his technology should be sufficient.” Too, he would call Stark, he decided. A subdermal tracker somewhere discreet would not go amiss, if she did not have one already. She was, after all, an intimate of Prince Thor, and obviously a favorite of the team.

“If it will make you feel better,” she said after a moment. “Guess I get to tell Nat she was right.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Natasha and Clint said last night they thought you’d want security for me. Clint doesn’t want me leaving without at least three members of security, or an Avenger. I told them I thought that was a little…” she paused. “I don’t know, we’ve had one date, I thought it was a little soon for something like that.”

“In any other time, I would agree. But this is a time of hostility, and the FSB do not play by the rules.”

“You know the Avengers would come for me, right?”

“That is not the point. The point is that nothing untoward happen to you to begin with. You are a noncombatant civilian, but that will not stop certain agencies.”

“If it’ll put your mind at ease, sure,” she said lightly. “You’ve got enough to worry about right now without adding me into the mix.”

“Then I will make the arrangements momentarily. Thank you for understanding.”

“Oh, I don’t have any problem with being safe,” she laughed. “You’re welcome. And you should probably get some sleep, and I’ve got to earn my paycheck, so --“

“Of course. Was this a good time? May I call again?”

“Anytime, Victor. And especially if you have to go add a personal touch, okay?”

“I remember. Have a good day, Darcy.”

“Good night, Victor.” He hung up, called the New York embassy and gave the requisite orders for her security detail if requested, debated…it was still fairly early…and decided not to call Stark until later. Besides, if push came to shove, there were magical means of finding her. He was able, then, to lie back and eventually sleep.

The intelligence that came in overnight was not promising. The strengthening push into Ukraine, the troops now crossing Belarus, pointed toward the New Soviet’s determination to reconquer the smaller countries. Belarus could be forgiven; their position was unenviable, and while Victor knew they were playing both sides against the middle, he also knew that they could not possibly stand before the might of the troops currently passing through their country. He gave the orders for the immediate air transport of several brigades of Doombots to help defend Poland’s eastern border, with promises of more as soon as he knew more about the Ukrainian situation. He also gave the orders for the supertanks, already loaded onto the special express trains, and their operators to make the journey to Lublin and Bialystok for assignment. Those destined for Ukraine and Romania were already en route.

A teleconference with the generals, exhibiting the latest Doombot models and pointing out their strengths, took up a few hours, and then another teleconference with Chancellor Merkel, President Macron, and President Mattarella regarding the efforts the EU had made to convince Russia to stand down. He did not comment on the absence of Prime Minister May and President Trump; it was only to be expected, after the Brexit, and of course President Trump likely did not even know there were currently tensions. Nor, to be honest, did Victor think the man would care. Ukraine was far enough away that the U.S. could ignore it, though he had an idea that the First Lady was likely keeping a very close eye on the situation. She was from the region, after all.

Now he paced in his control center, waiting. He felt somewhat bound by his determination to change; were he the Doom of five years ago, he would have gone to the front and decimated the armies with a few spells, driven them forth from the soil of his allies and shown no mercy. He could feel the energy, taste the triumph…but no. “I am not that man any longer,” he growled to himself between gritted teeth. “I am better. I am stronger, I am more than I was.” But the words did nothing to curb his desire to see something destroyed by his hands.

He swallowed his irritation, and began reviewing the currently available freelance enhanced humans or mutants who might be acceptable to Darcy as a bodyguard. She could not be followed by a Doombot all the time, and while the embassy’s security was top notch, they were all human. He did not like their chances against more Crimson Dynamos or perhaps Black Widows.

Sabretooth was not an option, due to his instability. Certainly he was supposedly “cured,” but he had seen Victor Creed in his murderous frenzies, and he would not risk Darcy in that manner. Elektra was a possibility, save for the fact that she had a price of her own on her head, one that would never be called off. Deadpool was annoying, and too easily distracted.

He studied videos of the last current possibility for a long few minutes, the high angular cheekbones, the saucy grin, the insolent grace, the lean, muscular body. His upper lip lifted into a sneer, watching him attempt to charm every woman he met. Did he dare try to hire this one? What if Darcy found him attractive? What if, since he was unable to court her properly right now, she allowed that charm to disarm her? He pushed himself away from the control panel, paced the room again, glancing every so often at the loop of the man in action leaping to provide cover for a child, defending an elderly man, sweeping a handful of foes into unconsciousness with a few well placed blows. Finally, he stopped, folding his arms over his chest.

He was fond of Darcy. She seemed fond of him. They were not sworn to one another in any way, they had not even begun to scratch the surface of any type of relationship. Hiring someone to guard her was not for his benefit, it was for hers. Her association with him was what would place her in jeopardy; he was therefore honor bound to ensure her safety. Out of the available possibilities, this was the best option.

And besides, if she gave way to the flattering rogue’s charms, if she could not remember who had hired him and why to begin with, then it was simply not meant to be. He sighed, then picked up the phone.

The welding arc flashed blue, hotly hypnotic, as the Clash screamed about knowing one’s rights, the thudding bass enough to feel it in his feet as he worked, mouthing the words along with the song. He had just finished the line of weld when the song cut off abruptly, and he cut off the welding torch, flipping up his helmet. “FRIDAY?”

“Sorry, sir, but you didn’t hear me the first eight times I called your name,” his AI said. “Lord Protector Von Doom is on the line for you.”

“Oh.” Tony wrenched the helmet off, wiped his forehead on his arm. “How long do I have before Pep wants me for the dinner thing?”

“Two and a half hours, sir.”

“Right, and my alarm is --“

“For an hour and a half from now. Shall I put Lord Doom through, sir?”

“Yeah. Yeah, patch him in.” He laid his tools to the side, got a bottle of water from the mini-fridge and downed it, waiting.

“Mr. Stark.” Doom’s voice boomed, even when he wasn’t meaning to. He’d have made a hell of a front for a metal band. Literally, Tony thought to himself, grinning.

“Vic! Good to hear from you. How’s Europe?”

“Holding together for the moment. May I have a word?”

“Sure. You need a hand out there? I don’t mind,” Tony offered. “I owe them a courtesy call after the other night, to be honest.”

“I promise you, Mr. Stark, you are first on the list should reinforcements be needed. I’m calling regarding Miss Lewis’ current security measures.” Tony blinked.

“She lives in Avengers Tower, man, we’re not going to let anything happen to her,” Tony began, a low growl of discontent rumbling in his belly. What, he didn’t think the Avengers could keep her safe?

“I’m well aware, but she does have to leave the tower from time to time, Mr. Stark, and while your security teams are top-notch, they are human,” Doom said. “Humans, unenhanced humans, well trained humans, are very well and good against most of the FSB or human extraction teams. I am more concerned for mutant and enhanced threats. I have a bodyguard candidate in mind for her. I am calling to ask if I might rent the gentleman a suite of rooms in the Tower, so that he is always at hand. This is only temporary,” he added. “Until the unpleasantness here is over, and the New Soviet come to their senses.”

“Who’ve you got in mind?” Tony asked, taking another swallow of his water.

“Remy LeBeau. Gambit.” Tony choked, coughed, had to catch his breath.

“I thought he was upstate? In Westchester?” He said when he could speak again.

“No. He has left Xavier’s team, and is currently working as a freelance operative in Quebec City.”

“Not New Orleans?”

“I believe he is persona non grata in the Crescent City at the moment. Something to do with the Assassin’s Guild.”

“Yeah. Yeah, um. Let me put you on hold for just a minute so I can check the availability, okay?”

“Certainly.” Tony made a cutting gesture over his throat at one of the cameras, and Billy Joel’s “Vienna” began to play, signaling that Doom was on hold. “FRIDAY? Do we have anything?”

“The guest floor below the Avengers’ floor is currently empty, sir,” came the lilting answer. “The current market value for one of the guest suites is approximately $15,000 per month, due to the space, the limited availability of rentals in New York, and the location.”

“Okay. Bring him back on.” The music cut again. “Vic, you there?”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” came the irritated reply, and Tony grinned to himself.

“Yeah. I’ve got some room, I’ll cut you a deal because it’s for Artoo. Eight grand a month, it’s a two bedroom suite with a hell of a view, access to the Avengers’ workout area and communal areas if he wants it. Comes furnished, top of the line electronics, utilities, cable, and delivery service included.”

“Acceptable. I will call you back after I speak to Mr. LeBeau,” Doom said after a second. “I deeply appreciate your courtesy in this matter.”

“Yeah, no problem,” Tony said easily. “Let’s do doubles next time you’re in town, me and Pep, you and Darce, huh?” A long pause.

“I have no objections. Thank you again.”

“Sure thing. Later.” He made the motion again, and the call cut off. “FRIDAY. Make sure one of the suites is deep cleaned,” he ordered. “I don’t know when he’ll show, so, let’s get on it.”

“Yes, sir. Shall I have groceries delivered as well?”

“No; wait on that until we know when. Work up an invoice for the Latverian Embassy at eight.”

“Yes, sir.” Tony hefted his helmet up, slid it back on his head, tightened the belt.

“How much longer do I have to play, FRIDAY?”

“Approximately one hour, eighteen minutes, sir.”

“Awesome. Bring back the tunes.”

“You have the right…to free speech…as long as you’re not dumb enough to actually TRY it!” The music picked back up right where it had left off. Tony grinned, flipping his hood down and re-lit the welding torch, bending back over his work.

...STAY TUNED, TRUE BELIEVERS...

#Victor Von Doom #Darcy Lewis #The Victor Von Doom/Darcy Lewis story that nobody asked for #@fuckyeahdarcylewis #@daniissuchadani #@subsilvernight #fanfic #Marvel #Avengers #Iron Man #Excelsior

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marblesarelost · 7 years

Text

Change Your Mind, Change Your Life

CHAPTER FIVE

Her throat was raw for the next two days from the strength of her scream.

Later, all Darcy would remember was her vision suddenly being covered by green, Doom whirling his cloak over her and turning, placing his body between hers and the blast. Thankfully, he didn’t throw her to the concrete floor and dive on top of her or anything like that; he probably ran about two twenty to two fifty, it would have hurt like hell. Instead, though, strong arms encased in faintly glowing metal wrapped around her, holding her up as the floor shook. “No, you are safe, I will not allow any harm to come to you,” he rumbled in her ear, and for just a second, half a second, she allowed herself to be comforted.

“But the others,” she protested, “they were sitting --“

“We will see what has happened to the Avengers in a moment, and you may call for assistance from whoever might be able to help. For now, we must wait; there are still missiles being fired.”

“Who,” she choked out, “whoever did this, whoever did this, they have opened up such a goddamn can of whoopass…”

“What an interesting idiom. And yes. They have. They have attacked a home where the King of Atlantis and the Lord Protector of Latveria were being treated as honored guests. They will know the wrath and the fury of the Sub-Mariner, and of Doom.” The noise was dying down. “I will release you in a moment; find cover. Three, two, one, go.” His arms uncrossed from around her, the green falling away, and she could see the door to the common room.

“Be careful,” she said, then ran forward, jerking the door open and heading through the kitchen into the TV room. “FRIDAY, status report?”

“No known casualties at this time. Mark 16 and RESCUE were initiated when Sir saw the incoming bogeys. All of the other Avengers dove into the pool as the first missile was fired.”

“Okay,” Darcy breathed. “Okay. Where’s Steve’s shield, Friday?”

“Captain Rogers’ shield is in his quarters.”

“Emergency override his lock. SHOCKER-Alpha-3-9-6SW,” she said, running for the elevator. “Who else needs their weapons?”

“Falcon does not have his wings, and Hawkeye does not have his bow.”

“Damn it,” she sighed. “Do they have other weapons up there that they can use?”

“Currently, both are firing Glocks.”

“They need more than that,” Darcy muttered as the elevator door opened on the residential floor, and she ran down the hall to Steve’s quarters. Opening the door, she saw the shield beside his couch. Grabbing it, she headed out again. “How heavy are Falcon’s wings, FRIDAY?” Because the shield by itself was heavy enough she was having to use both hands. “More strength training, Darce,” she muttered to herself.

“Hey Darce,” Sam’s voice sounded over the intercom system. “Don’t worry about my wings, sugar, we’ve already got enough flyers out here to make things really interesting, especially since I’ve never worked with Doom or Namor.”

“You sure, Sam?”

“Yep.”

“Okay. Does Clint want his bow and quiver?”

“Negative.”

“Oh. Okay. I’m bringing Steve the shield, though.”

“He’ll appreciate that; he’s pissed ‘cause he’s having to hide at the moment.”

“Tell him I’ll be there in a minute.”

She was upstairs again, and now she was pissed. Oh, she was pissed. She stopped at the door to peek out from around it, and her breath caught. War Machine and Iron Man were blasting the hell out of what appeared to be a red suit of armor, while Namor and Doom were busy kicking in the faceplate of another. A third was being kept busy by Clint, Natasha, and Sam, while Steve stood helplessly fretting nearby, She-Hulk holding him back.

“Hey Rogers,” she shouted, stepping into view. “Catch!” She threw the shield with both hands like a discus in his general direction.

“Lewis, you’re a lifesaver,” Steve called, leaping to catch the wobbling airborne disk. He rolled as he came down again, jumping up and launching the shield at the armor that Black Widow, Hawkeye, and Falcon were firing at. It hit the chest mounted machine gun, bending it sideways, ricocheted into the side of the building, then back to Steve’s hand.

She-Hulk leapt from the building toward that armored attacker a split second afterward, making the jump, but barely. She held onto the assailant, however, and started pulling pieces off of the armor, digging her strong green fingers into the suit, its defense systems all but useless against her. Sure, she could be shocked. Sure, it hurt. But nothing like it would do to an unenhanced person. Darcy watched, her mouth open, as she tore the faceplate away from the helmet, exposing a woman who couldn’t be much older than Darcy. A single punch from She-Hulk was all it took to knock the pilot out.

What she hadn’t taken into account was that an unconscious pilot meant that the suit was going down, her scream echoing between the buildings as she and her foe plummeted toward the earth. Namor left Doom to deal with their opponent, diving through the night sky as easily as he cut through water, and Darcy crossed her fingers. “Please,” she murmured. “Please, please…”

A flurry of laser shots drew her attention back to the battle in the sky. Doom’s opponent was giving it all he had, obviously, but Doom only hovered there, letting his unseen foe fire at him at point blank range. Until he had had enough, that is. “You have made a grave error,” he proclaimed, reaching out his hand a lot like Darth Vader’s force-choke. The suit began to crumple, Darcy could hear it, the metal squashing and screeching as it folded in on itself. “You have angered Doom.”

“Holy shit.” Darcy glanced to the side to see Clint watching beside her. “Why the hell didn’t he do that before?”

“I don’t know,” Darcy replied. “Maybe you can ask him in a minute.”

“Yeah,” Clint agreed. “Think I will.” He looked down at his Stitch patterned swimming trunks. “Fuckers got a hole in my new trunks, too.”

“Aww. I’ll patch it for you this weekend,” Darcy offered.

“You’re a treat, Darce.”

“Did Namor catch --“ she began, and Clint nodded.

“Yep. Looked to me like he was controlling the fall rather than trying to drag them back up, though. I gotta go downstairs and help collect them.” His shoulders sagged. “You did good getting Steve his shield. That helped.” He sighed, standing straight again as Black Widow came to stand next to them.

“Barton. Let’s go.”

“Wait,” Darcy said, quickly untying her sarong and handing it to Widow. “Here.” For a second, ‘Tasha blinked out of Widow’s face, then faded away again as she nodded, wrapping the sarong around herself quickly into a full sleeveless dress before jerking her head to the door where Pepper stood, her gaze fully on the battle still raging between Iron Man, War Machine, and the last armored asshole. Doom was slowly lowering the one he had subued to the now wrecked pool as the last red armored adversary dodged a blast from Iron Man and knocked into him, hard. The heap of scrap metal, for that’s what it was now, dropped the last twenty feet in free fall as Doom surged forward from the impact, then turned around, purple sparks flying off of him.

“Coward!” He thundered, and Darcy couldn’t see what he did next, but the enemy armor suddenly thrashed about in the sky, its limbs flailing wildly and likely painfully, as Iron Man and War Machine backed away in the air.

“Holy SHIT!”

“Fuck my life, son, you shoulda done that earlier,” War Machine said.

“I could not; you and Iron Man were in too close quarters, and this would likely have affected your armors as well.” The armor stopped moving as quickly as it had begun, holding deathly still for a moment before it moved smoothly toward the building, ending up beside the mangled metal that had been its associate. “Crimson Dynamos, are they not, Iron Man?”

“Yeah, that’s what it looks like,” Tony agreed, coming to a landing and flicking the suit off a few seconds later. “Uh. This one…is this one dead, Doom?”

“No.” He landed beside Tony, a few seconds before War Machine. “The pilot is alive. Perhaps a bit worse for wear. But alive.” He stepped out of the way as Pepper ran to Tony, hugging him tightly, and Darcy could, would swear later that for a fraction of a second, just a fraction, she saw Doom’s perfect posture stiffen before he stalked back to the edge of the terrace, his back to them all.

“Fuck,” Darcy muttered, turning on her heel and running for the bar. “FRIDAY, where does Tony keep the really, really good stuff?”

“Wine, champagne, or whiskey, Miss Lewis?”

“Any of it. All of it,” Darcy snapped, her eyes sliding over labels. “The good shit, FRIDAY, the Thank You For Being A Pal shit.”

“I would suggest the single malt Macallan Single Malt Craigallachie if you are celebrating the triumph.”

“Great. Where’s that?”

“Third shelf from the top, to the left.” Darcy stepped up on the stool, grabbed the bottle and two glasses; hopefully he drank his whiskey neat. “How much is this bottle, FRIDAY?”

“The MSRP is three hundred dollars.”

“Great. Take it out of my pay for the next couple months, would you?” She was already in the kitchen before the AI could reply affirmatively, and out the door, picking her way around the rubble that had been the terrace pool five minutes earlier. She waved at Rhodey and Tony, but never stopped moving until she was a few feet behind Doom.

“Lord Protector?” She called softly. He turned, he had to turn his whole torso to do so, she noticed, and saw her. She held up the bottle and glasses. “To the Victor goes the spoils?”

“Is that my Laphroaig, Lewis?” Tony called from across the hole where the pool had been.

“Nope! It’s something called Macallan…Craigie something, it came recommended,” she shouted back. “And I already arranged to pay you for it, so hush.”

“Nah. On the house,” Tony said. “Doom, take five and have a drink with a pretty girl before SHIELD gets here; you’ll have to give a statement, damn it, I didn’t want --“ Tony was cut off by Pepper’s fingers over his lips.

“What Tony means to say, Lord Doom, is that he deeply appreciates your help tonight,” Pepper said, and Tony sighed.

“Yes. Yes, that is what I want to say, seriously, I just…this isn’t what I wanted, I wanted to just kick back and have a good time and make new friends, goddamn it.” Tony kicked at a piece of loose concrete. “And you BASTARDS had to fucking RUIN it!”

“If it comforts you, Mr. Stark, that is exactly what I had hoped for this evening as well,” Doom said, turning all the way around at last. “And I add my curse to yours.”

“Yeah,” Tony sighed. “Well. Unfortunately, this comes from being my friend.”

“God, you have no idea,” Rhodey sighed. “He’s been a trouble magnet since I’ve known him, building the suit didn’t change anything.” He wrapped one arm around Pepper’s waist, the other around Tony’s. “Come on, you two. Let’s go find our own bottle.”

The bottle was plucked from her fingers a moment later, and she wondered briefly, how did he move so fast and so silently? Oh yeah, hovering, Darcy, he’s a fucking Sith Lord, remember? “This is a very good Scotch,” he said lowly.

“Yeah, well, you won. Practically single handed,” she shrugged. “And hey, saving the plucky sidekick’s life comes with benefits.”

“Do not speak of yourself so. You are, even on our short acquaintance, much more than the plucky sidekick.” He opened the bottle, poured two fingers’ worth of liquor into both glasses. “Prosit.”

“L’chaim,” she replied, touching her glass to his and sipping, the alcohol peaty, burning its way down her throat. She didn’t cough, but her eyes watered. “Damn,” she said after she caught her breath. “I just remembered why I like Irish better.”

“Oh? Then why did you choose this?”

“One, it’s one of Tony’s best, two, you seem like a Scotch kind of guy; complicated, with added fire.”

“That is…a very apt descriptor. You used a Hebraic term for your toast; you’re Jewish?”

“Yep,” she nodded. “Not observant or anything, but yeah.” She sipped her drink again, glancing at the two subdued assholes. “They’re not gonna wake up anytime soon, are they?” He chuckled, and a shiver ran down her spine at the sound.

“Not likely.” It wasn’t quite a growl, but it wasn’t far from it, either. “I overloaded the subdermal receptors in one suit, causing a massive amount of biogenetic feedback. Nothing that can’t be cured with a few weeks’ care. As for the other, well. The Grasping Hand is not known for subtlety. There may be broken bones. I’m afraid I have no sympathy for them; they meant to ambush unarmed people at a party, after all.”

“Yeah, I don’t have any sympathy for them myself at the moment,” Darcy agreed. “So that’s what the Force Choke move is called? The Grasping Hand?”

“Force Choke?” He asked her, gesturing, and a pair of chairs and a table, knocked over to the wall by the missiles, rose, righting themselves. “I’m not sure I know the term.”

“Star Wars? Darth Vader, Princess Leia, Luke Skywalker? Kylo Ren, Rey? The Millennium Falcon?” He shook his head as she named off each integral piece of the space opera.

“I am afraid I do not care for much modern media. I have had other concerns.”

“Oh, um…yeah, okay,” she said, joining him as he walked over to the table and taking a seat. “Star Wars. It’s a movie franchise, very…at its core, it’s the Hero’s Journey, I guess, and the actual first three movies are awesome, the prequels are crap except for Rogue One, and we’re now waiting for the last in the current trilogy.”

“I see. It is a cultural difference, I suppose; movies were never that important to me.” He refilled her glass, and his own. “Books were. Do you know Tolkien?”

“Three Rings for the Elven-Kings under the sky, seven for the Dwarf-Lords in their halls of stone, nine for mortal men, doomèd to die, one for the Dark Lord on his dark throne, in the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie,” she quoted, and he nodded.

“Ash nazg durbatulûk, ash nazg gimbatul, ash nazg thrakatulûk, agh burzum-ishi krimpatul,” he intoned, purposely, she was sure, deepening his voice as he spoke the Black Tongue of Mordor.

“In the land of Mordor, where the shadows lie,” she repeated softly. “Yeah. Yeah, me and John Ronald, we go back.”

“Obviously,” he agreed.

“Also, the Black Speech? Really?”

“It amused me, in my youth.”

“So,” she said after a moment. “Are you Theoden awakened, then? Or Boromir, regretful at the Falls?” He didn’t answer her for several long minutes, taking a drink, considering his words.

“I think…” he began slowly. “I think I am more Saruman, but a Saruman who has seen his folly. I have broken the White, and become the Saruman of Many Colors; and now I am trying, perhaps, to regain my humility, and earn back my Staff of Office.”

“Or Bilbo,” she offered. “After giving up the One Ring.”

“No; no. You are very kind, Miss --“ she glared at him, and he changed. “Darcy. But I, like Saruman, have committed too many sins, and Bilbo did not. No. I am Saruman if Saruman had come down at Orthanc, when Theoden and Gandalf and the Ents had cornered him. I have come down, and I know I have a great deal of work to do to redeem myself.”

“Looks like you’re doing a good job of it, from my point of view,” she offered.

“Thank you. There is a veritable Aegean stables to clean, however,” he sighed, “and the expedient way tempts me, always.”

“Change is hard,” she agreed. “Changing as completely as you’ve done, that’s…that’s next to impossible. May I ask, if it’s not too personal, what…did something happen to drive you to it, or…” she let her words trail off. “Sorry, I’m presuming on short acquaintance.”

“You are,” he agreed. “But at least you’re asking.” Slowly, he ran his finger over the rim of his glass, the metal of his glove causing the glass to ring, just slightly. “Good crystal. Stark has taste.”

“Yep.”

“The truth of it is…” he began, sitting back, “the truth of it is, I am tired. I am tired of always being on edge. I am tired of always fighting. I am weary, Darcy. I have seen the future and the past, I have fought battles with gods and monsters, demons and abominations, and while…while I have always…prevailed, at least in survival, I have not always triumphed. I am tired. I wish, at this point, only to lead my people into a new age. An age in which Latveria prospers beside her neighbors, rather than eking out a spare living, hand to mouth. It is time, it is past time, to give up the childish travails and idiocies of my youth, and see to the welfare of my people, rather than myself and my own wounded pride.”

“Those are good reasons,” she said softly. “I can understand those reasons.”

“Oh, there are more.”

“Of course there are; you’re complicated.” She grinned at him.

“I’m tired of seeing them quail whenever I walk among them. Of seeing women hide their children behind them, of seeing even my own people, my mother’s people, quake in fear at the mention of my name. Fear is not what I wanted, when I took the throne, I did not want their fear, I wanted to help, I wanted to build, to make things better…and all I have done is make it worse. No more. No more traipsing about time and space, no more fighting with Reed over sins, his and mine, long past. No more proclamations of how great I am, and playing Big Brother from Orwell. I am not great. I am a man who has made a multitude of mistakes. And I cannot, even if I went back in time again, I would not be able to rectify them all. But I can build a better future. I can. But it takes allies. It takes trust. And I have to earn that trust.”

“Doing a hell of a job so far,” Steve’s voice cut through the night, and Darcy looked over her shoulder to see him standing a few feet away. “Sorry to interrupt. Coulson wants to ask a few questions, you know how it is.”

“Of course. If you will excuse me, Darcy?” He asked politely, and she nodded. He rose, taking her hand and bowing over it. “It has been a delight to spend time with you; I hope to do so again before I leave New York.”

“It’s been my pleasure, Victor,” she assured him. “And thank you again. I know you saved my life.”

“I would gladly do so again. Good evening.”

“Good evening.” She watched him walk away with Steve, sighed to herself. Well, the assholes hadn’t completely ruined the evening. Just mostly.

STAY TUNED, TRUE BELIEVERS!

EXCELSIOR!

#Darcy Lewis/Victor Von Doom #The Darcy/Doom fic that nobody asked for #Darcyland #Marvel #namor mckenzie #She-Hulk #Avengers #fanfic #fanfiction #I actually have two more chapters pretty well written #how my deadlines scream #not my first rodeo with masked tortured geniuses #I love villains #I love the squishy sound when I tame them #Make Mine Marvel #Mentions of Tolkien #Victor has never seen Star Wars #@fuckyeahdarcylewis

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marblesarelost · 7 years

Text

Change Your Mind, Change Your Life

CHAPTER TWO

A soft knock on her office door brought her back out of herself, and she looked up from her screen to the door. “Um. Come in?” Jane peeked around the door, her grin wide.

“I’M SO HAPPY FOR YOU!” She squealed, coming into the office, a wine bottle and two glasses in her other hand. “Oh my God, Darcy, this is amazing!”

“I know,” Darcy agreed, nodding excitedly. “Two seconds, Janey, let me save this, okay?” She bookmarked the article about Doom’s request to the United Nations and saved her notes before closing her tabs and screens and rising from her desk. Her desk. Yes, it was standard and she’d had one in the lab, but this was hers, in her office, and she was going to do a hell of a job because she knew that they were trusting her and she didn’t even have her master’s yet oh God. “Okay,” she said, turning off the coffeemaker and picking up her bag. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“All the celebrating,” Jane agreed. “I’ve ordered dinner and I went downstairs to Michelle’s and got you a chocolate orange.”

“You’re the best,” Darcy said, following Jane out the door and closing it behind her. The magnetic lock clicked, and she grinned at the nearest camera before heading for the elevator. “I guess Tony talked to you?” Jane’s ponytail bounced up and down ahead of her.

“Yeah. He explained everything, and I’m supposed to start meeting with some of his people in the morning to try to find a new set of assistants. Seriously, I’m going to need at least three to handle what you do,” Jane sighed.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence, boss --“ Darcy shook her head, brown hair flying. “You’re not though. For…for the first time in…”

“Four years,” Jane said softly. “But I’m glad. I’m really glad, Darcy. I mean, I love you, you’re the sister I never had, but…”

“But I need to spread my wings. I get you,” Darcy agreed. “Well, the good news is I should definitely be able to afford my own apartment in a month or two, I’ve just got to save up for deposits and everything.”

“Yeah? That is good news,” Jane agreed. “Maybe next you’ll get a date.”

“Oh, shut up, I go out,” Darcy said, bumping shoulders with her friend. It wasn’t long before they were having dinner, Alessandro’s from downstairs. Darcy moaned just a little as she ate, the lasagna perfect, the breadsticks good and crunchy. “I didn’t realize how hungry I was,” she admitted, taking a long drink of red wine.

“Isn’t that usually my line?” Jane said, her smile quivering just a little. “Oh, this is going to be…it’s great, but I just know I’m going to miss you so much in the labs, Darce, I’m used to having you there…”

“Hey, now. Like I said, it’s gonna be a couple months before I move out anyway, I’m still gonna be around,” Darcy insisted. “And besides, I’m only five floors down from this floor and four down from the labs. It’ll be fine, Janey, we can have lunch together, we can go to the movies, it’ll be fine.”

“Yeah. I know, and I know…Tony said what you’re doing is absolutely essential, really, for the Avengers, it’s just…I don’t like change in my personal life. It’s hard.”

“Awww. I know,” Darcy soothed. “But it’s not going to be that big a change. It’s not. And he promised me he would find you somebody good. So it’s gonna be okay.”

The next morning found Darcy up bright and early, her heels slightly muffled by the carpet of the building as she went downstairs to her office. Instead of her baggy sweater over a tee over jeans, she wore a black pencil skirt that fell just below her knees, white blouse, with a sapphire blue jacket for a pop of color. Her hair was up in a tight French braid, her bag replaced by the briefcase her Opa had given her for graduation. She nodded pleasantly to the few people she saw in the hallway of her floor, and went directly to her office, the door now bearing a brass nameplate; “Darcy Lewis, political analyst.” She couldn’t resist the smile that split her face, seeing it there, or taking a picture and sending it to her Opa and Oma. She had called them the night before, but that, that sort of made it a little more real.

She had just sat down behind her desk, coffee at two o’clock, notepad and pencil before her, when someone tapped on her closed office door. “Come in,” she called, and the door opened to show a stranger, an older woman with graying black hair.

“Good morning, Miss Lewis. I’m Linda, Linda Garrison. One of the attorneys for the Initiative.” Darcy rose from her seat, holding out her hand.

“Good morning, Ms. Garrison. Pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise,” the attorney replied, looking over the office. “Just started?”

“Yes, just yesterday actually.”

“Ms. Potts said that she’s going to be adding more analysts?”

“Yes. I’ll be heading the political team; of course we’ll leave the PR and the legal aspects to your team and PR, we’ll be offering political advice in regards to the different countries the Avengers might find themselves in,” Darcy explained. Ms. Garrison nodded slowly, her smile fading a bit, but never quite leaving her face.

“I head the legal team. I don’t know exactly how much we’ll work together, Ms. Lewis, but just in case there’s any friction between your team and mine, I’m who you’ll come to.”

“The same; I hope there won’t be any, though. I can’t really foresee any,” Darcy said, and Ms. Garrison nodded.

“Neither can I, right offhand, but one never knows, and it’s always best to know one’s peers and the chain of command. Well. I’ll let you get to it, my office is up the hall toward the elevator if you should need anything.”

“Thank you, Ms. Garrison. Good meeting you.”

“And you.” Darcy nodded, shook hands again, waited for the woman to leave before sitting back down at her desk. “FRIDAY, is there a way to engage do not disturb on this floor for the individual offices?”

“Yes, Miss Lewis. Would you like me to?”

“Give it another half hour, and then yes,” Darcy ordered. “Jane, any member of the actual Avengers Initiative, and Ms. Potts can override, but that’s it.”

“Yes, Ms. Lewis,” the AI agreed. “May I ask if the coffee provided was adequate?”

“Yes, it’s fine for now. I’d like to put in an order for a two pound bag of Thunderbolt French Roast starting next week, please.”

“Yes, Miss Lewis. Weekly or bi-weekly delivery?”

“Ah…biweekly for now, I’ll reevaluate once I figure out how much I actually need?”

“Excellent. Will there be anything else?”

“Not right now, FRIDAY, thanks so much.”

Her first real day of work as a political analyst went well, she thought. She read through the various articles and watched the news clips that had had aggregated over the last six months about the political situation of Latveria, taking careful notes, until lunch. During her lunch (a very nice lunch of fruit and soup, thanks, she’d had all the carbs the night before) she made notes regarding what she wanted her team to do from day to day, mainly research on what Pepper had called the short-term assignments, the political and social thoughts of the various countries of the world on the Avengers and whether they would accept assistance or not. “FRIDAY?” She asked once she was done with that.

“Yes, Miss Lewis?”

“What were the date parameters of the Latveria search that Tony ran?”

“Mr. Stark ordered a search for news stories regarding Doctor Doom and the political situation in Latveria between six months ago and two days ago, Miss Lewis.”

“Okay, new search, please. Same parameters except go back one full year, and update with any new stories that have shown up in the last two days,” Darcy ordered. “And keep it updated with new stories until further instructions.”

“Yes, Miss Lewis. That will take a few minutes, I’m afraid.”

“That’s fine. Thank you, FRIDAY.”

“You’re very welcome, Miss Lewis.”

By the end of the week, she had the zero draft of her report, she had reviewed a dozen resumes for the team that had been sent on to her by Pepper, and she had a rough idea of how the countries in the EU and some of the Eastern European countries viewed the Avengers. She felt it was a good start. There were a few sticky points that she wanted to work out, but overall, it was a good start.

She spent the weekend combing through thrift shops and secondhand stores, looking for businesswear that number one, would fit, number two, wasn’t all black or gray, and number three, was good enough quality that if it didn’t fit, but could be tailored, she would be willing to make the investment. She could do some things, taking hems up or down, for example, but she preferred to let professionals deal with the jackets, for example.

Monday morning, she was in her office at eight-thirty, sipping coffee and looking over her notes regarding the actual national status of Atlantis. Was it a country? It wasn’t recognized by the UN, or by more than two or three other countries, one of which was Latveria, which was amusing as Latveria was a landlocked postage stamp, actually, in the middle of Eastern Europe. But Greece, Italy, and Greenland all three recognized it as a sovereign nation, and King Namor had given several interviews…she should really look into that. If the Avengers had to deal with something rising from the sea, which they had already done on several occasions, they should really have at least a working relationship with Atlantis. But how? They didn’t exactly have an embassy, it was common knowledge that most Atlanteans would die if exposed to air too long. She’d have to think about that.

“Miss Lewis, Mr. Stark and Captain Rogers have just gotten off on your floor, they seem agitated,” FRIDAY warned her.

“Thanks, FRIDAY. Unlock the door for them, would you?”

“Certainly.”

A few seconds later, Tony and Steve came into her office, both in mufti, which gave her the chance to appreciate Steve in jeans, thank you Dr. Erskine. “Really sorry about this, Darce,” Steve began as Tony pushed past him on the way to the coffee machine. He looked as if he had just rolled out of bed, possibly head first. That was definitely yesterday’s AC/DC tee he was wearing, and --

“Tony, are you still in your pajama pants?” Darcy asked.

“Maybe. At least I’m wearing pants, be grateful,” he said, picking up one of her novelty coffee cups. “You’ve got Rebel and First Order and Imperial coffee cups?”

“May the Force be with you,” she said, and he snorted.

“And also with you, Artoo.”

“Does that make you Threepio? Because you’re the snarkiest bastard in the building.”

“HA! No.” He poured himself some coffee, choosing, she noted, the “I run so I can keep up with the Doctor” cup. “Steve?” That got her attention. Tony was using Steve’s name. Not Cap, not Capsicle, not Captain Tightpants. Steve. Tony was being serious, or at least trying to. He turned her office chair around, sitting on it backwards, while Steve hovered near the doorway.

“Okay. Steve, close the door, get some coffee if you want, then sit down. Tony. Seriously. What’s going on?”

“About twenty minutes ago, I got a phone call,” Tony began as Steve, bless him, followed orders. “From the Latverian Embassy.” Both of Darcy’s eyebrows went up. “Doom is coming here, to New York, tomorrow. His bees are working overtime, because he wants to set up a meeting with the UN and ask, formally, for UN assistance in…” Tony looked at his coffee, took another sip, shook his head. “He wants to reset his government, I guess. Change Latveria from, let’s face it, a dictatorship ruled by a literal iron fist, to a constitutional monarchy.”

“Are you serious?” Darcy said when she could find her voice. “That’s…that’s nothing short of amazing.”

“Yep. That’s what the guy on the other end of the line said. I was informed because he wants to ensure that the Avengers know he’s coming on a diplomatic mission.”

“Okay,” she said slowly. “I haven’t had time to do more than a zero draft of my report, but I can email it to you, no problem.”

“And you’ve got time to finish it, Darcy, I’m not trying to rush you, but I -- we,” Tony corrected himself, looking guiltily at Steve, “want your general impressions and conclusions.” Darcy took a deep breath, blew it out.

“Okay. General impressions and conclusions? He’s been working on this for at least the last year,” she began. “Slow outreaches to surrounding nations, specifically Symkaria and Chernaya. Definite rebuffs toward Putin’s minions; there was a minor diplomatic dustup last year when he and a couple of his robots personally dropped off four Russian agents on the front steps of the Kremlin. It was…interesting, at least for a few days, over there, but thankfully, nobody got stupid.” She paused to sip her coffee, then continued. “He’s allowing at least some of his subjects to visit Chernaya and Symkaria now, and he’s put down two attempted coups by a couple of his colonels, both of whom would have probably wanted to keep the police state.”

“That…maybe it’s just me,” Steve said slowly. “But if you wanted to make your country free, why wouldn’t you just do that?”

“Because they wouldn’t know what to do with freedom, Steve,” Darcy explained. “They still don’t. It’s going to take at least a couple of generations before the general populace understands the difference between what they’ve always had, and what they have the chance for. Even a constitutional or parliamentarian monarchy is better than the despot he’s been.” She drummed her fingers on her coffee cup, trying to think of how best to explain. “They’ve lived under a very harsh rule all their lives. They don’t know anything but toe the line, don’t speak badly of Doom, or life in Latveria, or else you disappear. Allowing small groups to go experience what life is like in Symkaria and Chernaya for a week or two at a time lets the people see the difference between the countries. He’s lifted the ban on speaking favorably of other countries, yes, that was an actual law for thirty years, you couldn’t speak well of the United States or Canada or the EU if you were in Latveria. He’s upgraded the common standard of living for most of his people, if you’ll give me a second?” She picked up her tablet, ran a before and after image search on Google, handed it to Steve. “On the left, you’ll see a common Latverian farm in 1990.” A small house that could barely be called better than a hut. Four people, man, woman, two children, standing in front of it with blank expressions. “On the right, you’ll see that same farm last year.” The house behind the family, which now numbered eight, had obviously been expanded, a real metal roof rather than tin sheets on the top, there was a truck and a four door sedan in the background. “He imported, at his own expense, a work truck and a car for every Latverian farming family last summer. Gave it to them. Flip the screen.” Steve did so to look at a line of trucks painted in bright, cheery colors, the people standing in front of them smiling broadly, dark skinned and haired, dressed in Latverian folk costume. “That’s a tribe of Latverian Romani. He’s always been partial to them, his mother was Roma.”

“He’s buying his people things? Why didn’t he do that before?” Steve asked, handing her the tablet, his face blank. “Why didn’t he try to improve their standard of living before?”

“I don’t know. What I do know is that in the last year, maybe year and a half, I haven’t finished all the research yet, he’s been making huge strides in improving the standard of living and expanding and opening human and civil rights in his country, and that by itself is amazing. For someone to just…turn themselves around like this? It doesn’t happen. It really doesn’t happen. Not without some form of intervention, not without something happening personally to open their eyes to what they’ve been doing.”

“So he got Jesus?” Tony asked, and Darcy threw her hands in the air, shrugging.

“I don’t know if it’s Jesus, Odin, or Baba Yaga kicked the fear of her into him, but the results speak for themselves. Victor Von Doom has been making changes in his country and in his rule for the last year. Maybe you guys could go over to Empire State and see if there are any recent Latverian students who are willing to talk to you? I don’t know that they would, but it’s a possibility. All I know for sure is that the news stories currently coming out of Latveria, Symkaria, and Chernaya all point to a massive change in the governmental outlook, and the quality of life.”

“Huh.” Tony sipped his coffee again, leaning back in his chair, his eyes half-closed. “Steve?”

“I mean, I think it’s great,” Steve said slowly. “If he really is sincere about all of this, it’s great. Knowing that maybe in a time of world crisis, we could perhaps ask Doom for backup? Would be a huge advantage, honestly, because he’s almost as smart as you, Tony.”

“Please, tell me more about how clever I am,” Tony smirked, and Darcy rolled her eyes.

“Be serious. But on the other hand, what if --“

“IT’S A TRAP,” Darcy and Tony said at the same time, and Tony picked it up. “Yeah. It could be. Or it could be he finally took a page out of his old pal Namor’s book, and decided to build instead of destroy.”

“I know you want to believe, Tony,” Steve sighed. “I know you do. And honestly? I do, too. I’d love to have another ally, especially in Eastern Europe. But I can’t just…say I’m from Missouri, I guess.”

“Look at it this way, Steve,” Darcy interjected. “He’s doing all the right things, and has been for a year. He’s invested tons, literally tons, of money in fixing his infrastructure and his people’s way of life. And now he’s coming to the UN for help. He’s not stupid, not at all. He knows he can’t just say, okay now, let’s vote on who you want to represent you. The UN is going to want to send teams over there, they’re going to want to investigate themselves. Can you open your mind enough to give Doom the benefit of the doubt until the UN finishes their investigation, at least?”

Steve was quiet, looking down at his hands for a long minute before his shoulders rose and fell, and he nodded. “I won’t say I don’t want to be cautious,” he said, looking up at her. “But we can give a man a chance. Everybody deserves at least one chance to change.”

“Great,” Tony said, standing. “Then I’ll call the Embassy and let them know that the Avengers recognize and approve of Lord Protector Von Doom’s visit to the UN, and any unpleasantness will not be started by the Avengers.”

“And give them my office number, would you, Tony?” Darcy interjected. “If I’m your political liaison, they should call me from now on.”

“Fuck. You’re right, Lewis. My bad.” He had the good grace to frown, at least. “You just started the job, hell, we just created it, that’s probably why…”

“No, I’m not mad,” Darcy hastened to reassure him. “You’re right, it’s not as if we’ve made a big deal about the new position or anything yet. We can make an announcement after Doom leaves. We don’t want to upstage his visit, that wouldn’t be prudent.”

“Right. Okay. Get with Pepper on that, she’s got the embassy numbers. Cap, you good?”

“Yeah,” Steve said, rising as well. “Thanks for your time, Darcy.”

“Hey, it’s what I’m here for. My advice, honestly, cautious support and observation is the best way to go in this. If he’s for real, we’ll know it; it’ll take the UN at least a year, maybe two, to get the elections set up. If he’s not, he’ll fuck up and show the autocratic DOOM IS BETTER THAN YOU PEASANTS crap again.” She grinned, bumping fists with Tony. “Villains, real ones, can’t help themselves, they have to feed their massive ass egos.”

“Exactly. Come on, mon Capitan, let’s go get Danish.” The two men left her office, and Darcy shook her head, smiling, as she went back to work.

#darcy lewis #fanfic #fanfiction #Avengers #tony stark #steve rogers #Victor Von Doom #darcyland #The Darcy/Victor Von Doom fic that nobody asked for #political wrangling #darcy is smart #@subsilvernight #I love reblogs

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