There are two Superpowers in the world. DonÌt let anyone tell you otherwise. ItÌs the way itÌs been since 1999.
America on one side with the Avengers.
Latveria on the other under Doom.
Who would you bet on?
Latveria stretches from the border of Germany right through what was called Russia into Asia. At its centre is a city called New Latveria, the size of a small state on its own. The metropolis rests on what was called Moscow amongst others.
Towering at the heart of this sprawl is a Palace, housing the court of this empire. More importantly it is the home of a very old man.
He was a villain.
He is a King.
His name is Victor Von Doom.
DOOM MFS
Issue 1 (of 2)
ÎThe Games of Pawns and KingsÌ
Written by Mark Peyton, Robin Sutton, and Alex Peyton.With special mention to Jericho Vilar and Michael Shirley.
SOMEWHERE OVER THE MONGOLIAN PLAIN They had come at night, appearing as tiny lights in the dark sky. The village was built in the ruins of a city on the Mongolian plain. Its name had been forgotten. No signs existed to tell of the place it had once been. Even the populace was new, moved here just over a century ago. The villagers knew what the lights were.
Mikal Poe checked the instruments behind the mask, his fingers flexing in the tight gloves, and signalled for the others to follow in formation. The lights from his armour moved to point downwards as they turned to fly into the base. He was Colonel Mikal Poe of the Latverian Royal Army. Or at least he was for a few hours more.
He looked around getting used to the sensor sweeps. He switched to a different wavelength and set up a view window looking back at those behind him. This was a training exercise, not just for them, but for him too. Some of the men and women behind had been wearing these suits for years. Each had been specially designed for its wearer. This was only his third time in non simulated flight. He was sure he was going to rack up the airmiles in the coming years. Tomorrow would bring his own suit with it as part of the ceremony.
This was the final stage. Tomorrow he would become the latest Captain of the Iron Men, DoomÌs personal guard.
NEW LATVERIA
The Palace was alive with activity. If there was one thing the court enjoyed it was a spectacle. The chance to be something more.
Rumours were running wild. This was how the court coped when the King had not been seen for weeks. If there was one truth the Court could not escape it was that without Doom it had no power. One question it never asked was how much power it truly had.
The court was such a monster that it sprawled over four rooms, each large and holding its own secrets. The first room was dominated by a large stoic portrait of the steel monarch. In some of this roomÌs many alcoves sat young courtiers toasting DoomÌs health till many glasses had run dry. In another alcove. In another alcove rested the form of a mysterious African woman. The name which had been given to her was Damask. She was a beauty, despite her age, with her stark white hair flowing down her back, but her eyes... If her eyes looked at you, you would know as if your soul had been read. Most of the court skirted around her, despite her obvious status. You see she had been brought to the court personally by Doom. From such an action many rumours are fired. This ebony beauty, who was she? What was she to be favoured so by Doom? No one would dare ask the King and Damask would simply look into their eyes, deterring even the most ardent gossip.
To her side stood Silk, a concubine, her arm draped over the shoulder of one of the Asian GovernorÌs sons. The boy, for he had not yet learned the daily ritual of shaving, whispered into her ear, teasing his tongue along the outer ridge of her lobe. She smiled, nodding, pricking her ears to focus past his prattle on the conversation between two far more important court officials.
No one could say whether Karl Von Doom was the younger image of his father. For his remarkable longevity the steel monarch had never revealed to his court his true face or whether he had repaired the damage wrought upon it at an early age. Karl seemed in temperament to be his fatherÌs son, if a little overeager. Victor Von Doom in his long life had seen the benefits of planning and waiting, but that was a lesson learned through experience. It was KarlÌs overeagerness that was pushing him at the moment.
ÏThe ceremony is due to start shortly,Ó he said.
ÏYes, I am aware of that my lord,Ó replied Armand Jean, the Chancellor of the court. He glanced over the arrayed courtiers, searching for the cloaked form of the King.
ÏAnd I take it you are aware my father has not been sighted for weeks.Ó ÏYes, the rumour mill was most accommodating with possible reasons. The shooting star over the city last night did little to calm them.Ó
Karl considered the sharp features of the Chancellor. He had little time for the obvious schemer and had never understood his fatherÌs decision to raise the man up the courtÌs echelons, but he would not dare to openly question his fatherÌs decision. ÏI propose that we wait a little while longer, then, if the situation remains, I will conduct the ceremony.Ó He pointed his arm to the hover-cameras manoeuvring into position. ÏWe should not keep the people waiting.Ó
The courtiers began to press into the second inner room, forcing the Chancellor to follow the flow or find his robes trampled upon. As the court shifted murmurs ran through it. The crowd moved to try and clear a central pathway. Silk separated herself from the amorous attentions of the GovernorÌs son and moved to stand at the front of the assemblage. Doom strode into the court, his long purple cloak held over his arm as the lights glinted off his armour. He was followed by a tall, crew-cut young man, whom he beckoned forward as he stopped. Victor Von DoomÌs armour was marred by the addition of an ill fitting cybernetic attachment over his left eye. This was a new modification. A couple of the assembled whispered to each other, desperately refraining from pointing at their liege. Doom looked over their faces, setting on SilkÌs elfin features. ÏAttend to your sovereign, concubine, Doom has a duty for you.Ó
Silk came forward, lowering herself to her knees, eyes down on DoomÌs boots. ÏMy King,Ó she said softly.
ÏConcubine, you will take care of my guest,Ó Doom paused, waving forward the blonde man, Ïwhilst Doom conducts this ceremony. You will answer his questions and fulfil his wishes. Understood.Ó
Silk nodded, knowing that this was not a request, but an edict. Doom reached down his gloved hand and lifted Silk up, guiding her back. ÏPiotr, ask of her anything.Ó
The blonde man nodded dutifully as Doom turned and walked down the cleared path. In front of him lay the lined troops of his royal guard, the Iron Men. Doom knew that none of their number could appreciate the irony of such a name. Their red and silver forms stood like silent sentinels as Doom strode towards his son. The court bowed or curtsied as he passed. Doom paid them little heed.
The Chancellor was fluid in his bow as Doom nodded to him. ÏArmand, the preparations are in place?Ó
ÏYes sire, of course.Ó
Doom looked over his sonÌs features curiously. ÏKarl, you must learn patience. Presumption can make one look foolish. You are the Prince of this glorious country, you must act like one. Doom is here as he said he would be. You were right, it is not fair to keep the people waiting.Ó With a sweep of his hand the ceremony commenced. At the centre of this room DoomÌs throne began to rise from the floor. The cameras tracked the King like hawks as he simply looked into the eyes of his only offspring.
He turned, throwing back his cloak and stepped slowly onto the dais of the throne.
ÏYou join us for a very special occasion. Reporting live for you, Dimitri Stanshek.Ó
The screen changed to a stock picture of part of the Royal Palace with the National anthem playing softly in the background. This faded out to show a sharply dressed bearded man. In the background the court shuffled as the King settled into his throne. The fanfare started as the Prince moved to stand to one side of his father. Cameras settled on Doom as the country rejoiced at seeing him after his absence. A single camera panned to focus up the clear aisle, past the red and silver of the Guard towards a lone figure stood at its start.
Mikal looked nervously on the assembled masses. He walked stoically down the aisle, in one arm his helmet, in the other a longsword. His eyes focused on the throne as hovercams manoeuvred around him.
Doom placed his gloved hand on the throneÌs arm and watched from behind his mask as the armoured Colonel approached. He raised his other arm and extended it, open towards Mikal.
Mikal lowered himself to one knee and offered up the sword to Doom. His sovereign considered him. ÏWho comes to serve Doom and Latveria?Ó
The Colonel looked upon his liegeÌs steel face. He summoned his voice from within himself as he looked upon the heart of this empire. ÏI am Mikal Poe. I come to serve as Captain.Ó
Doom looked past the kneeling man. ÏDo DoomÌs Imperial Guard accept this man as their Captain?Ó
The Iron Men stood silently for a moment, milking their spotlight, before raising their right arms, banging them to their chests and saying in identical pitch, ÏWe do as Doom commands.Ó
The cameras span round looking over the red and silver before moving back to settle upon Mikal and Doom. The Steel Monarch considered Mikal slowly, his new eye running over the manÌs face. With his left hand he grasped the blade from Mikal. He brought it up and down to rest the blade flat on MikalÌs shoulder. The flat of the blade pressed on the red shoulder of MikalÌs new armour, then was raised over his head and brought down on the crest of Latveria imprinted on the other shoulder.
Doom paused with the sword on MikalÌs crested shoulder. ÏRaise yourself Captain, raise yourself and join the Imperial Guard.Ó
Mikal looked into DoomÌs face and as Doom took the sword from its place, Mikal rose placing his helm over his face. Though it was almost indiscernible to the human ear, Doom was one of the those few in the room who heard the slight hum as MikalÌs armour kicked into life. He stood in front of his King resisting the urge to touch his own face and looked from behind his own mask.
The cameras made one last sweep hoping for that framing shot of the new Captain and the King. Doom waved his hand and Mikal stepped back into the open space at the head of the Iron Men. Doom pushed himself up. Raising his voice he bellowed, ÏCome before Doom, Piotr.Ó
At the other end of the room Piotr disentangled himself from the arms of Silk, who pouted playfully. He strode down the central aisle to the murmurs of the assembled court. Doom smiled behind his true face at the commotion. Piotr moved to stand by him as Doom let his cloak fall over his body and Karl watched intently from behind.
Doom allowed the court to continue its inane chatter and as the noise continued he looked around the room. His gaze brought silence.
ÏIt is a tradition of this court for Doom to raise those subjects he finds worthy to serve this great land of ours. Doom brings amongst you, one Piotr Takarinov. He is as worthy as any of you and his place at the court is ensured.Ó
The Court murmured again, but quietened as the Iron Men shifted in stance.
Piotr smiled quietly to himself as the gaze of the court rested upon him.
There was spite and envy in their eyes. How dare this little man be brought up to their level? It was the same every time a new person was brought amongst them. The majority of the Court had their own notions of their superiority. Were they not worthy to serve the ruler of half the world?
Doom stood silently listening to the chatter as Piotr looked around the room. While most of the assembled were looking at him, a few were intently considering him. To the back of the court a striking coloured woman with stark white hair looked over him. She said nothing but her blue eyes burned fiercely as they looked at him. She was dressed in what appeared to be a shawl and loose silks. They covered the majority of her form except for her face. Around her there did not appear to be anyone who stood by her but rather were forced to be in the same vicinity.
Much closer to the throne stood a sharply dressed man with very defined features. He carried in his one hand what appeared to be a staff of office. Piotr had seen this man talking with Doom and the Prince when he had arrived and seemed to remember him from state announcements upon the media. Piotr looked into this manÌs eyes and it seemed to him that he was not looking at Piotr, but rather at an opportunity. The man was understated in his attire, but what he wore was worn for a purpose. The concubine Silk had called this man Armand when Piotr had asked about him. His gaze was the most unsettling.
PiotrÌs last gaze rested upon a figure crouched at the feet of the Iron Men. His presence seemed slightly incongruous with some of the hi-tech dotted around the court. Sitting cross-legged between the glinting armour was the red and yellow of a Jester. The stooped little man seemed to be mimicking the chatter of the rest of the court by talking to his carved wooden stick. His eyes settled upon Piotr and for a second Piotr saw a spark, something hidden behind the tomfoolery. But only for a second....
Doom waved his hand and the crowd was silent. ÎWell trained were his dogs.Ì ÏPiotr is to be accorded respect and he will begin his duties under me personally shortly.Ó ÎThe dogs would realise the importance that simple statement had attached.Ì Doom turned to consider his son, who kept his annoyance well in check for once. ÎGood he is learning. But he has yet to learn to master all his mannerisms. A Father knows his son.Ì
Doom nodded to Piotr. ÏFamiliarise yourself with the court. One of the concubines will take you to your quarters when you are ready. Tomorrow we will start.Ó Piotr bowed gracefully before his liege.
The court stood in muted silence as Doom began to walk past his guard. The crowd bowed in time with his footfalls as the two Iron Men closest to the throne followed behind the long deep purple cloak of their Master.
Doom wheeled quickly through the outer rooms of the quarters, walking with purpose to his laboratories. The Iron Men were the only members of his court who would not feel awkward being close to his labs. Doom kept his private quarters far from the rest of the court. In his castle, his Empire he was beholden to no one. The labs were kept separate for a reason. He felt no reason to explain that reason to any.
The Iron Men stood guard outside the entrance to the labs for purely ceremonial reasons. Doom had not survived centuries by being unable to defend himself. Anything that could vanquish Victor Von Doom would not be stopped by two Iron Men. For the countryÌs sake Doom allowed the notion that he was continuously guarded from harm to be visible. The people loved him and Doom wished their emotional well being. Guarding his person was not the purpose of the Iron Men.
Piotr had been exchanging pleasantries with various members of the court. The Prince had introduced himself briefly, but left after a very short discussion. Still the little man in the red and yellow watched, his eyes darting away when he was spotted to be replaced by his wooden likeness. Piotr slowly started to move about the room past the remaining Iron Men. The rest had either followed the King or the Captain, when he had departed shortly after his monarch. Laughter rang from one corner as a rather inebriated young man chased after one of the concubines. Piotr smiled slightly at the antics, but had started to feel chafed by the garments provided for the ceremony. He was simply not use to wearing the heavy finery. His fingers pulled at the collar self consciously.
ÏAnything amiss?Ó a voice asked.
Piotr turned to consider the Chancellor standing before him, a practised smile upon his lips.
ÏEr... no,Ó Piotr quickly replied, Ïnothing at all.Ó
ÏThat is good. We have not been formally introduced. My name is Armand Jean and as you may know I am the Chancellor for the Court.Ó
Piotr extended his hand to ArmandÌs amusement. ÏPiotr Takarinov.Ó
Armand took his hand slowly and squeezed in a forceful grasp. ÏYes, I did pay attention during the ceremony.Ó That practised smile once more. PiotrÌs eyes settled on the face of the Chancellor as he made sure he showed no sign of discomfort at the handshake. Armand released his hand and reached for a glass from a passing tray. ÏThe King did not say what your position was to be at the Court?Ó
Piotr nodded. ÏNo, he did not. I wonder if there was a reason for that, but who I am to question the KingÌs decisions.Ó
That smile again. ÏQuite. IÌm sure all will become clear in time.Ó
ÏMost probably.Ó
Armand sipped his glass, his eyes fixed upon the smiling face of Piotr. ÏWell if you have any questions or problems do not hesitate to ask.Ó
ÏHis Majesty said to avail myself upon the concubines, but I will bear your kind offer in mind.Ó PiotrÌs tone had been carefully chosen as he spoke to Armand. He kept his eyes upon the ChancellorÌs face as he witnessed a first crack in the manÌs air of composure.
The Chancellor nodded. ÏYou are too kind. Now I must attend to duties.Ó He turned and walked slowly away. ÎImpudent boy. Who did he think he was addressing? Steps would have to be taken to remind this Court of his status.Ì He walked away not looking back, seething.
Later; much later. The stilted celebrations had passed away, and Doom had returned to his work. He had been away too long, and the real business of ruling such a vast sprawling empire was always done behind closed doors. The pomp was for the sheep. Doom had little time for the sheep Ò sycophantic lackeys who looked after their own interests and had no concept of the bigger picture. He ruled here with absolute authority, but he ruled well because he knew that the success of his people was his own success. Most of the court would rule for their own personal gain, and be dead within a year. He was better than all of them, and this was not his ego talking. This was just a statement of fact.
He made sure that his chambers were secure, and slipped into one of the concealed rooms. He had several, and they all had different functions. This was the nerve centre of his power Ò once again, everything else was for show. Certainly, he could rule in the court, but the real secret of any power was in what the ruler did in private.
The rig lay before him exactly as he had left it. Gleaming metals and plastics beckoned to him Ò he had been away for far too long. He cast his cape aside and sank into the couch with a sigh of relief. Now he could be himself and not what people expected him to be. He slotted the datajack into his temple, and the flood of information immediately swamped his senses.
Swirling mists flooded about his body. He had never designed a personal area, and he never thought that he needed one. Cyberia was full of small boundaries and meaningless borders. He was determined that he would not add to them Ò in fact, he often dreamed of removing them all. Cyberia would be united, and no longer a mere reflection of the paranoia of the real world.
His muscles flexed beneath his blinding silver armour. A cape of datastream flowed about his body, and a heavy broadsword, twinkling with digital signals and sensor checks, appears in his hands. He was ready to face the challenges that Cyberia might hold. Doom lay on a couch in his Palace. Here in Cyberia, he was the Knight of Virtue, and nothing could stand in his way.
He walked out of the mists and onto the Superhighway. Flickering shadows moved swiftly around him, travelling from one site to another. His sensor arrays scanned each in turn, finding nothing of any real interest ÷ no, wait a moment. The shadow heading south towards Inner Server 37. It had an unusual access pattern Ò alien almost. And it was trying to hide the pattern with a storm of Ice. Well, that might have confused the gullible Watchmen, but not him. They had a hacker of unknown origin, and it was heading right for the Latverian nerve centre.
Not a very clever thing to do.
Doom Ò alias the Knight of Virtue Ò sped after the hacker, and caught the interloper in a matter of seconds. The hacker gave very little resistance as the huge sword sliced deeply into his body. With a surprised flash, the intruder flickered, and vanished. Doom wasted no time, but followed the connection back to its source. The landscape flowed past at incredible speed, and changed to a small dark room, decorated with images of cheesecake pornography and stars of the contemporary music scene. The hacker's private area was clearly not a secure unit. In fact, it looked like a teenager's bedroom. Doom's scans provided no indication of any espionage or intrigue. For a moment, he was perplexed.
A brief flash announced the arrival of the hacker. He was a long-haired and well-muscled individual (or so he wanted to appear) but he was also extremely clumsy. His movements were irregular, as if he had not quite mastered the use of his Net rig.
"What the hell are Ò you kicked me off, you bastard!" The hacker was not very pleased.
Doom lifted him up by his shirt and allowed red light to blast from his eye slits and play across the face of the hacker. "You dare to invade the privacy of Latveria? The sanctity of the holy ground should not be defiled by one such as you! What do you have to say for yourself?"
The hacker struggled and hurled abuse at his captor. Doom shook him hard.
"Who sent you? What do you want? Answer me!"
The youth cried out in his struggles. "Nobody sent me, man! I just went for a joke. How the hell did you get here?"
Doom cast the hacker aside. "Worthless net trash. I'll teach you to meddle in the affairs of government!" He blasted away at the site, leaving exposed areas of data and random sprays of code flickering in the darkness. With that, Doom headed out into the world beyond.
He breathed deeply. The Superhighway was such a vibrant place. So alive Ò not like Latveria. That place was becoming stagnant, steeped in intrigues. The Americas were no better. But Cyberia had the dreams, the hopes, the aspirations of its people all on show.
Cyberia was often more real than reality ever could be.
Doom looked about him, and got his bearings. He set off for home, his mind troubled by the hacker. Was Latveria so insecure that a mere boy could break into secure areas as a mere prank? He doubted it. A fluke then? Maybe. But he was not going to let this lie. He would need to investigate the American cyber network a little more. In fact, he had a mind to set up a permanent operation designed to monitor and process the Net behaviour of his allies and enemies.
The Net contained a lot of information. Doom believed that information was power. Doom liked power. Power was a good thing.
With a grim smile he headed back to reality with invasion plans germinating in his head.
NEXT ISSUE - More intrigue from the Court of Doom as we see the eyes and ears of DoomÌs Latveria. Why did Doom change the world? What other games are being played at the court and what will PiotrÌs fate be? Find out in issue 2 of the first Doom MFS series.
This issue was written as a collaboration. The initial idea for Doom of MFS came from Michael Shirley as did the notion of the Iron Men, which I twisted in the MFS prelude. This miniseries was originally a Oneshot but we thought it only fair to let the readers see what Latveria was like as soon as possible, hence the two issue miniseries. The plan with the Doom oneshots and miniseries for the first year is to have various writers bring their own visions to Doom as his place in our world is examined. So no Doom ongoing for the first year to allow everyone a chance to play with him. If you have an idea youÌd like to try with Doom then simply send in a proposal following the submission guidelines on the front page. Writers who are currently involved in planning oneshots are Jericho Vilar and Jac Milnestein. After next issue IÌll be back for at least one more Doom tale this year looking at DoomÌs place amongst the Immortals of MFS. With this issue and the first Avengers America Oneshot you can start to see some of the major players on MFSÌs world stage.
Recommended reading for this is of course Machiavelli's the Prince and the Empire books by Raymond E. Feist and Janny Wurts.
Hope you enjoyed the issue and we see you next time.
Any mail and comments on this issue to Starman26@hotmail.com.