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Sins of the Father
"No one ever said being the son of Victor von Doom was easy."
"Prologue: Another Day, Another War"
He was running. Again.
He always seemed to be running these days. Running here, running there, running everywhere. His current situation was a fucking never-ending marathon.
On the bright side all of this cardio was doing wonders for his physique.
"Fuck!"
His right arm slammed into a brick wall as he stumbled over the split pavement. The movement sent a sharp spike of pain into his skull as he was forcefully reminded of his broken collarbone and bit his cracked lips to suppress a scream. He was lucky it wasn't a broken neck.
He rounded a corner and came upon a row of storage facilities on the waterfront of the Thames. The Resistance had many safe houses positioned throughout London but this particular one held great importance to him.
It was his way home.
Countless experiments had produced a single working prototype capable of breaching the walls of the multiverse and sending him existentially screaming back to his universe of origin. Quantum entanglement notwithstanding, naturally. It would be quite awful if the machine worked only for him to end up in the wrong reality or perhaps with his dematerialised self scattered across the multi-universal cosmos.
Of course, he'd have to make it to the safe house in one piece. The Knights were right on his ass and his collarbone made anything faster than a light jog excruciating.
He could hear their voices echoing around the various units. They were closer than he had thought. Slipping past a rusted iron door, his wand fell into his hand and he began activating the numerous defences he had enacted around the safe house. Runes appeared, blazing in azure and crimson and emerald, and the air was electrified as magic filled the unit. The wards were already up but the additional magic would hold off his pursuers for a moment longer.
He needed time, not long, only five minutes – just enough time to activate the device.
Runic triggers littered the room, now invisible to the naked eye as the magic settled. He was well-known in the Resistance for the brutality of his traps.
He twisted a doorknob and entered into another room inside the expanded space of the container. He inhaled deeply and the stale air ignited a sensory flurry as a scent overpowered his mind.
Her family always took holidays on the Côte d'Azur and she smelled like he imagined it smelled like – bergamot and neroli and clean. The soothing sound of the Mediterranean and the bristling, hot sands under their feet.
Her scent. Her eyes. Her lips, curled in a playful smirk. Her hair, soft like spun silk and the colour of honey wheat. The feel of her bare skin under his calloused hands and the noise she would make when he would stroke that particular spot...
"No." He slapped himself.
Sea-foam green, lit with adoration.
"I love you. Forever and always."
His hands were covered in blood. Her blood. He slapped himself again and was surprised to find his face bloodless. Even now, on the cusp of freedom, she haunted him.
Cold platinum around his neck felt like an albatross; every movement of his head was as pained by the weight around his neck as by his injured collarbone.
Pain is penance.
A blood-attuned locking mechanism barred the safe house entrance under a trap door. His wounds offered blood eagerly. A series of iron steps led to a magically-expanded laboratory space. A small cot lay forgotten in the furthest corner, made neatly and seemingly unused, standing in contrast to the chaotic clutter of his workspace.
The device itself was simple in design, if not in function. A variant on a dimensional transporter his father had once built; this one had the benefit of his own talents in magical engineering. The chassis was a mithril-iridium alloy capable of withstanding the immense mystical and electromagnetic energy necessary to pierce the inter-universal veil. It shone even in the nearly non-existent light of his workshop.
Comprised of a tachyon particle generator and a molecular dematerialisation unit, the machine's purpose was two-fold. First, it would rip open an extra-universal hole in local space. Then, it would disassemble his being and send it through, preferably to materialise in his own universe.
At least, that's what he hoped it would do. He didn't exactly have the time to test it.
Click-clacking echoed in the lab as he booted the transporter to follow his preset protocols. Blood dripped on the keyboard as a red glow filled the control module.
Without the necessary materials to build an arc reactor or a similar power source, he was forced to find a magical substitute. Forays into the annals of alchemy led to the creation of a pseudo-Philosopher's Stone. It could not bypass the Law of Equivalent Exchange nor could it grant eternal life, but it could channel a shitload of magical power.
Which was what he really needed, after all. His lab was built upon a ley line for a reason.
The yelling of his pursuers was soon drowned out by the mechanical roar of the machine. He was completely unfazed by their proximity. No doubt they would manage their way inside but he would be long gone by then, riding the inter-universal waves like a cosmic surfer.
Perhaps he should've worn silver?
Should I say something clever? Sing a song?
He stepped onto the platform. The containment field rose around him and the whirring of the machine became high-pitched whining.
The ground shook independent of the transporter, which meant they had set off the explosive trap connected to the hatch. Good. He could only wish that as many of them perished as possible.
A spectacular burst of Cherenkov radiation and exotic particles accompanied success as the machine tore through the fabric of space-time with a serrated edge.
Green light flashed.
A woman screamed. Take me instead!
Hissing. Stand aside.
Green light flashed.
She giggled. He chuckled. They were together and that was all that mattered.
Green light flashed.
She sobbed over her sister's remains. His arms encircled her and she fell into his grasp.
Green light flashed.
Love me, she said. He would give her the world if that was what she wanted.
Green light flashed.
"I love you. Forever and always." She caressed his hand and he was sure he was crying.
Green light flashed.
She was cold. Her eyes, her beautiful eyes, closed for the last time.
Green light flashed.
The world exploded into a colourful miasma and he was yet again reminded of her. His greatest regret. His greatest sorrow. His greatest happiness. If only she had been here to witness this, to accompany him.
If only.
He hoped they all enjoyed his final gift. The transporter's core was programmed to overload. The cascading failure would cause the device to detonate and the subsequent explosion would destroy most of New Atlantis and irradiate the surrounding areas as far as what was once the M-25. The waters of the Thames would be set aflame.
He would make the world burn in her memory.
His molecules were ripped apart as his quantised form was shunted across the depths of space and time.
He thought no more.
Had this story sitting in my phone's notes for the longest time but the recent release of Captain America: Civil War pushed me to get it together. As a sidenote, you should all go see it, if you haven't already. Absolutely outstanding movie, might yet be the best film that Marvel Studios has done.
HP/Marvel crossover. This is 616, not Ultimate or MCU. Elements of either of those (especially Ultimate) will probably come in, but this is first and foremost a crossover with the comics.
Pairings are unsure, but definitely going to be Harry with a girl from the Marvel universe.
Thanks for reading.