Stepping through into my office was one of the most intelligent beings on Earth. He challenged Reed when they were younger and swore rivalry against the man. That rivalry twisted into revenge when his forr friend betrayed his trust with surgical cruelty.
The first ever attempt to pull a soul from phisto was taken that day, so many years ago... And he was left permanently scarred from the resulting detonation. Reed's calculations weren't rely flawed, they were poisoned with intent. The mories fluttered within my mind as the sickening emotions of the scummy version of Reed percolated. He had felt a sense of excitent at the vanquishing of, what he considered to be, his arch-nesis.
I felt for the man. He had lost so much and beco permanently disfigured due to the psychotic nature of the forr genius.
Victor Von Doom... He was enveloped in an articulated suit of forged tal. Runes lined each and every edge and curve of the armour, twisting under verdantly dark green cloak and fabric. Every tallic surface was polished and reflected the light in the room, the texture visually resembling guntal as it wove its way up towards his face in a pattern.
Speaking of his mask, it looked like a dieval torture device. Eyeholes were cut out of the mask to allow vision as very small holes had been left under his nostrils. It was carved in a stoic manner, its artistic quality matching ancient interpretations of Achilles or possibly Hercules. It fit the contours of his face perfectly and drew the gaze to his overpoweringly hazel coloured irises. No hair could be seen upon his head, though that was a hard detail to scrape from him as a flowing cloak of green curled around his ears, slightly draping over his forehead.
Boots tapped against the marble, slow, deliberate, scarred by battle. His were a guntal black, lacking polish and looking very scraped and damaged. This man had seen combat, no doubt. Escorting him were my Spartan guards as well as his own robotic soldiers, who were just as vigilant as the super-soldiers. My guards were all quietly discussing things within their comms, Iron Hand; Selene looking over at Bulwark; Garrick Kane as Doom eloquently straightened his cape and stood in front of my desk.
Before the talks would comnce I felt for the presence of Mito, Kushina and Minato. They were fine. They waited in the hall outside, tension simring beneath Cipher and Void's silent guard as I slowly rose from my seat, the sigh dying within my throat as the man bowed ever so slightly in greeting. I followed in equal asure, his posture stoic amid the gravitas this diplomatic encounter bestowed upon the room.
"Ruler of the Southern Hemisphere... ruler of Australia. Pray tell, why have you summoned to this eting?"
I gestured to the seat at his left, my own silently reshaping into a throne, his transforming in kind, a gesture of parity, not deference.
"Ruler of Latveria, Victor Von Doom... your fa precedes you."
He inclined his head. The slight narrowing of his eyes behind the mask betrayed his thoughts on flattery, received not as praise, but as a calculated move to be dissected with care.
I continued despite his inclination to dissect my words.
"I wished to have a, chat, so to speak. One between equals and not that of enemies or specifically allies, as of this mont."
He nodded slowly, his posture impeccably maintained in poise. No movent could be seen below his cloak and even his eyes failed to flicker or squint in this mont. It was a perfectly maintained mask of politeness. He was hiding his reactions.
"You have been working with an organisation with which I have declared official war." His eyes faintly, ever so minutely, shifted. Was that a hint of discomfort communicated by his body language? I internally smiled as my eyes faintly traced the radiant grey-green aura of his emotions.
'Oh? Calm, calculating and intrigued... fascinating. Almost reminiscent of Napoleon.'
Doom cut into the silence like an arrow through the air, his crispy voice softly rebounding off the office's walls.
"I assu you are referring to the Illuminati? Those fools?" His tone carried hints of disdain mixed with derision. If he was 'part' of them, he was only using them as a stepping stone or as a tool to get what he wished.
'Hmmm, hints of Mussolini... It seems his political and governing experience is heavily tinted by dictators and tyrannies. Not the worst educators in the path of power, but definitely lacking the full picture.'
"Indeed. Though, I detect that you are not so much a cog within their machinery, but instead, an outside machine masquerading as such... Do tell , if you could be inclined to do so, what do you gain from such an, arrangent?"
I felt almost as if he could have been smiling, though his mask covered any such tell-tale signs... That was sowhat infuriating, but also a small loss in comparison to actually conversing with the man.
He was intelligent, too intelligent... More than that, he was attempting to scoop information from in a similar manner in which i was to him. His danger didn't co from just his magic, his brain or even his guards. It was in the way he carried himself, spoke and projected his charisma outwards. His experience in leadership was obvious to anyone with more than two braincells.
"What does the snake obtain from the common field mice...?" He paused montarily before continuing his dramatic speech, "You ask all these questions, yet still dance around the core essence of your reason for eting with ... One would think that we were not equals, but, instead, a superior talking to an inferior." He paused once more.
"If that is the case, then, you would be sorely mistaken." He almost hissed the word 'sorely' as his eyes bore into my own crystalline irises.
'He is faking anger, attempting to knock off balance to assert dominance over the conversation and get his own answers... Hmm, let's let him play his gas...'
"Oh, I must apologise... I hadn't intended to strike so sensitive a chord. But please, by all ans, pose your own questions. Dialogue thrives when both sides get to dance." I gestured outwards, opening the conversation up to his inquiries whilst subtly shifting away from my main purpose. I would get there, in the fullness of ti, but I wished to get a complete asure of the man before ... One not tainted by the pissant mories of Reed Richards.
His voice picked up with a faint vibrato as he pulled his head backwards ever so slightly.
"Very well... Then, indulge . What vision did you see so grand, so unassailable, that you saw fit to make a continent kneel?"
I digested the inquiry. His ntion of 'vision' gave so impressions of Adolf Hitler. in Kampf had a vision and the man himself carried it out with conviction. The need for vision as an explanation feeds into his own ego and his own sense of reasoning... Perhaps he had his own reasons for ruling over Latveria? A question that could possibly be answered later, food for thought however.
'The usage of 'kneel' is enlightening. He thinks that dominion is gained through an iron fist... Not too crazy considering those he had learnt political ideology from. Mussolini, Napoleon and Hitler were all rather outspoken in their ideals, philosophies and understanding of power.'
"A complex question, one that I can respect." He inclined his head and I followed suit, slowly leaning back into my throne and gazing upwards, creating the illusion that I was deep in thought.
"To answer it, I must first ask you a question..." He narrowed his eyes slightly, which I ignored and continued on through. "What would you do, if the Governnts of the world and those in power, were so inclined to their proclivities that they doom tens of millions or hundreds of millions of their own people, to death?"
His eyes returned back to normal though his emotional aura did not. No, that bright malaise of light that clung to his form, only visible to , was radiating anger and hatred. I knew he had a history with people hunting down magical peoples. His own mother was a victim of such a cri... Now, I would find if he had a conscious or if he rely uses power and rulership as a form of control for the lack that he finds in his own life.
"The fundantal vow that a ruler or leader takes, is the one of service and duty. Responsibility is almost as important as intelligence. Without it, the leader is entirely against his or her own people." He leaned forwards ever so slightly. "So, you ask , 'what would you do?'... I would grind those leaders into the dust, reforge the nations or at the very least save those people."
I smiled, truly. On this we agreed... In fact, I had saved almost all of the people who were being prosecuted. The only that were left were those lacking enough intelligence to take the extended hand.
'I have my answer.'
"You have your answer. Now you understand why I am at war. Why I have conquered Australia and now rule over it."
I could feel his aura cooling. He was a cold calculated man that bordered on being a despotic dictator... But he wasn't yet, and more than that, he had a leader's code of honour.
'This can be worked with.'
"With that answered, perhaps, I could enlighten you as to the reason for your invitation today?" He straightened his posture whilst his cape shifted over the completely onyx throne below him.
"Proceed."
I outwardly smirked.
"Reed Richards, was killed." He stood imdiately, his emotional aura shocked, excited and elated all at once. Eyes wide, he shook slightly from the sheer volu of emotions rocketing through his mind and body.
"I killed him after mistreating his own fiancé... I even recorded it, for later viewing. If you wish I can give you the recording?"
Dropping onto his throne once more I detected an extre sense of relief and happiness. Their rivalry was almost always damaging for his nation in so way, whether it be foreign politics or economics or even just purely technological... Reed was a nace to his once friend, to be completely honest, this Reed was a nace to the entire tiline. I shivered at the thought that there is an entire council of him.
"If you give this recording I will instantly hand over 50% of all Illuminati hideouts and resources that I possess. Along with this, I will withdraw from the Illuminati and call a permanent truce with your nation... Call it an investnt in our communal ideals."
'Damn, he must have really hated Reed...!'
"I can agree to these terms. On my end, I will also allow free trade between our nation so long as no illegal substances follow." He nodded powerfully, standing and extending his hand outwards.
"Deal!"
I clasped my hand in his own and shook on it, the Spartans nodding towards as they stowed their weapons away. Doom's soldiers also lowered their threat assessnt at their master's words, their ocular recorders eting eachother.
"Niccolo!!!" The Servant imdiately popped his head around a corner, the rest of him following as he straightened his Armani suit.
"Yes mistress?"
"Get the recording."
He grinned nacingly.
"Yes Mistress..."
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