Doom was seated in the crash seat of one of his drop ships. In the transport hold, beside and across from him, a group a Latverian soldiers were strapped in, lightly swaying with the motion of the aircraft. Their thick carapace armour, easily capable of defeating most conventional small-arms, filled the seats. Their rifles were stored in a small alcove beside them. The weapon was another of Doom's ingenious designs, able to fire a pulse of energy that could penetrate the front of an Abrams tank from 100 meters.
Doom's advanced technology had ensured the Latverian army was one of the most well equipped, and combined with their discipline, had long served to protect the borders of their homeland from numerically superior foes. Major Ralinov, as the Captain of the Guard (Captain by appointment; not rank) was seated directly opposite from him, retaining his officer's uniform, as was appropriate for a diplomatic mission.
They were en route to the Skrull capital ship, which hovered in a stately manner above New York. The flight lasted only six hours and as they neared the American shores, the pilot's voice came over the speaker.
"Lord Doom, the Skrulls have accepted your peaceful overtures and we've been granted landing clearance. ETA: 15 minutes."
Doom acknowledged the pilot and interlocked his fingers in front of his face as he thought. The mere act of approaching the Skrulls had been a gamble, though Doom wagered that they were rational enough to accept surrender. It was always prudent to show one's enemies that fighting to death was not the only option.
Undoing the flight harness, Doom stood and his troops turned their faces his way, stiffening slightly in preparation for orders from their Lord. He scanned the faces of each, and the C3 functions in his armour updated his HUD with information about each man. Scrolls of medical and service records streamed in the corner of his vision, and vital signs were highlighted as he looked over the men. They may be disciplined and blessed with great faith in their master, but he could tell they were nervous.
He fixed his gaze on one of his soldiers. His armour brought up the soldier's pertinent details; Corporal Mikal Storev, 19 years old, appointed to Castle Guard 6 months ago. Corporal Storev had his respirator open, and the face mask was hanging off to the side, revealing his youthful face, which was covered in concern at attracting his master's gaze.
"Are you fearful, young one?" Doom asked, already knowing the answer.
The young man stammered for a moment, before Doom interrupted him, "I punish deception."
"Yes, Lord. I'm terrified."
"Your fear is good. In your fear, you will find that path to wisdom. Bravery is ensuring that what you fear what is appropriate: failure to fulfill your duty, failure to please your Lord. Let your fear of Doom drown out your terror; most assuredly, I will punish cowardice and reward bravery-" he said, turning to addresses the rest of the men, "- Know that you are under my aegis, and your lives are mine to guard and spend. And remember: to take part in Doom's heroic struggle is to be immortal."
Doom returned to his seat. His computers updated him as the men's vital signs calmed, and satisfied that his troop's morale was bolstered, he let the rest of the flight pass without remark. He would punish incompetence, cowardice and wrong-doing, but in this case, compassion was more prudent. He had lost most of his robotic forces in the American attack, and had to carefully marshal his remaining military.
The transport settled itself on an exterior landing pad on the colossal ship. The Skrull vessel was nearly four kilometres long and was vaguely donut shaped. The Latverian soldiers filed out of the drop ship and formed a pair of ranks outside the open ramp. As Doom stepped down the ramp, wind billowed his cloak, and he took in the panorama of the city below, the setting sun casting the scene in an orange glow.
As he descended onto the deck, his troops fired off crisp salutes, and Doom stopped at the end of the line. He clasped his hands behind him as he saw a small delegation of Skrulls approach. Most wore the skin tight purple and black uniforms of their military, but one bore long flowing robes and a staff. The slightly hunched Skrull appeared to be some form of dignitary. They stopped at a distance when the lead Skrull spoke.
"Victor Von Doom, of Earth; I have come to accept your surrender on behalf of Queen Veranke," wheezed the dignitary.
"I demand audience with the Queen of the Skrulls," Doom announced.
The Skrull thoughtfully rubbed his chin ridges before replying, allowing just enough time to show his lack of regard for the humans. "You demand?" he remarked.
"My country is neither conquered nor destroyed, and my men stand ready to die for it. By the Divine Right of Kings, Doom shall state his business to the Queen directly. Or we shall be at war for the sake of your pride, and the avoidable deaths of your soldiers will be upon your head," Doom countered, sternly.
The Skrull may have had little respect for humans, but Doom watched the alien struggle for a moment before relenting. It was good to see that even in an alien Empire, one still had to respect the office of a monarch. "Very well, Doom of Earth. But you must come alone."
Doom grunted and spoke over his shoulder, "Major, guard the ship. If any of these aliens try to board it, kill them."
He entered the immense throne room of the city ship. The room was built with large limestone blocks, and pillars lined the approach to the throne. A single royal purple carpet stretched down the centre of the room, leading to the seat of power that sat upon a palanquin atop a set of stairs. One could be forgiven for thinking the room was from ancient Egypt, as opposed to an interstellar craft.
As he advanced down the carpet, Doom's armour registered half a dozen contacts, and he saw that beside each pillar stood a Skrull. They were of myrid size and shape, ranging from behemothly muscled and imposing to waifish and unassuming, each some a strange amalgam of Terran heroic teams.
Super-Skrulls then, he thought as he advanced to the throne, feeling their glares upon him.
Languidly seated upon the stone throne, Queen Veranke warily watched him approach. She had finally dispensed with the garish red and yellow costume of Spider-Woman, and instead was clad in violet metallic robes and armour. She wielded an ornate silver bident in her right hand, evidently a symbol of office among the Skulls.
"How fortunate you are to have escaped my warriors, Doctor Doom, Master of Latveria," said the Queen, imperiousness saturating her tone.
He halted a respectful distance from the base of the rising stairs. "Doom makes his own luck, O' Queen of the Skrull Empire."
"So it would seem. I must say, you are the first human to pursue audience with us. What do you seek?" she said, wryly.
Spreading his arms and genuflecting on his left knee in a deep bow, he replied "Doom has come to offer the official surrender of Latveria to the Skrull Empire, Your Majesty."
The Queen tilted her head and let out a soft tittering chuckle before answering, "How very progressive of you to accept change."
"A wise man can see when he is beaten. You have conquered the Earth in a week, and there is little to be gained from the resistance of my small nation," replied Doom. Raising his head to look at the Queen, he continued, "I must do what is right to protect my people. A just ruler can do no less."
Veranke's features softened for just a moment as she shifted to lean on her other arm. Taking a much more serious tone, she asked, "Why would I ever trust you?"
"When you invaded, you broadcast images of the various world leaders, including Doom's likeness,-" he said. He kept his tone neutral, but his choler rose at the thought of them using his image. "-to call for the people of Earth to accept change and surrender. For them to see me working on their behalf, under your rule, will legitimize that surrender. The humans who question you will see that life shall go on, and that this is just another stage in our history," he continued.
"That tells me what you offer, but it does not tell me that you are trustworthy," she countered, cocking an eyebrow.
"I suspect you possess something Doom covets."
Veranke leaned forward, as if sharing a tidbit of gossip, while she spoke, "The Fantastic Four."
He nodded, "I know the Four were not seen during the battles, and I know your race has had encounters with them before. You would have dealt with them before the war, and I'll wager they are among your bounty of prisoners."
"You wish to bargain for their lives?" she said, smirking.
"I wish to bargain for the right to end their lives. I have quarrel with them-," he said, closing his fist for emphasis, "-and to demonstrate that even when the heavens fall they can never escape Doom's judgment."
Queen Varanke's smirk spread into a predatory grin as she considered the offer.
Doom was escorted to his ship by the Skrull dignitary, who turned out to be a Viceroy. The aged Skrull spoke up as the group reached the landing pad.
"Perhaps you are more wise then the rest of your race, Lord Doom," came the Viceroys crackled voice.
"Were it that more of my people saw that, Viceroy," replied Doom, graciously. "The Skrulls seek to bring to Earth what I always strived for; peace, order and strong leadership," he added.
The Viceroy answered with an air of superiority in his voice, "It has always been the Skrull way to raise up lesser species with our benevolence."
Doom turned back and held out a hand. The alien gave a quizzical look to the proffered appendage. "It is a handshake, Viceroy, a sign of friendship on my planet. Long live the Empire."
The Viceroy smiled and took the gauntlet in a handshake. "Long live the Empire,"