"You have done a great service for the Empire, Doom."
"You are too gracious, Your Majesty," Doom answered the hologram. It had been several days since the Skrulls had taken Wakanda, and he had returned to Latveria, keeping himself hard at work on the next phase of his plan.
"There will be a celebratory game held; the day that the Skrull Empire crushed the last center of resistance on Earth deserves acknowledgment," Queen Veranke said.
Doom clenched his fist. "Richards," he said venomously.
"No-" she answered with a dismissive wave. She seemed almost coy. "-not yet at least. You will be my guest. You have earned recognition from amongst your people, and you will be the only human in attendance. It will be a day of celebration for the Skrulls and you warrant a place amid them."
"You honor me."
"That is the idea. I shall see you in one week," she answered impishly. A moment later, her hologram winked out of existence.
He had his doubts that Veranke actually trusted him. And being fully alone on the alien ship meant he would be vulnerable if the Skrulls decided this was the time to betray him. But, he also couldn't decline the personal invitation to be the honored guest of the Empress; such a thing would be far more suspicious. So his charade would continue.
Fortunately, his work had continued to bear fruit. When the aliens attacked, they unleashed a virus upon Starktech, disabling the technology that the western powers relied on. With the largest military alliance of the world in disarray, the Skrulls were able to concentrate most of their conventional military power on Eurasia and the far East. Since then, the Starktech servers had been fully integrated as the global communications hub for the all the nations of the world. They had even gone so far to network their own technology to it, creating a fully centralized system of global control.
Never before had the entire world been so intimately networked, and with his embedded bug in the Starktech mainframes, he now held the key to all of it. The very axis that civilization sat upon was within his grasp.
He had spent considerable time reverse engineering the virus that the Skrulls deployed, and it gave him knowledge enough to create his own that could take control of the integrated human and alien systems. The orbital fleet and global communications would be his. The only recourse would be to destroy Stark Tower, and such a thing would knock humanity back to the Yam and Ortoo system of the Mongolian Empire.
But having a weapon and knowing when to use it were two different things. He had long played the world conquest game; he knew that mankind was rebellious and ungracious. Indeed, he could pull the trigger today and nearly wipe out the entire Skrull threat in a moment.
But would humanity be thankful to him? Having delivered their liberty back them so freely, would mankind change their ways?
Obviously not.
No; mankind would need to struggle; they needed strife to understand the truth. And they needed to see Doom, leading them to their glorious future, before they could finally set aside the childish things that had plagued them since Cain lifted that portentous stone.
To that end, Doom had covertly dispatched his most advanced Doombots around the world. These robotic doppelgangers were near simulacrum of his own splendour. He had already located various resistance groups, insurgencies, and ragtag freedom fighters from around the world. The Doombots would be in place, secretly gathering even more information on the ground.
When the day of glory came, he would be in hundred places at once, personally leading resurgent human warriors to victory. His advanced technologies would shield them from the baleful guns of their foes, his magnificent presence would bolster their courage, and his mighty weapons would sweep the aliens from their bastions.
Only then would humanity understand Doom.
The crowd roared as Nor-Var ducked a wide slash at his head. He had to tumble on to his back to avoid the following uppercut from Sabertooth's other claw. He swept his leg into Sabertooth's knee, buckling the man, before he rolled away, throwing up ochre dust behind him.
Doom was seated in the royal box with Veranke, Queen of the Skrulls and Empress of Earth. She had greeted him personally when he arrived on the colony ship. She seemed to be followed at all times by her retinue of six elite Super-Skrulls, though she ordered them outside when they arrived at her booth.
Inside was just the two of them.
The death matches had gone all day, and this was the last one before the finale bout.
Victor Creed, the Sabertooth, was battling a white-haired youth named Nor-Var. Despite all appearances, Nor-Var appeared stronger and faster than the beastly man. But Sabertooth was a canny veteran of over a century of killing, and despite his cruel churlishness, he had survived on more than just his mutant healing factor over the years.
Doom leaned over to Veranke. "Who is that boy?"
"Some Kree super-soldier, supposedly from a different dimension. He was captured on the invasion day-" She didn't take her eyes off the fight, '-You know, he's killed two Super-Skrulls in bouts like this."
From a distance, she would have appeared stoic, but sitting so close to her, Doom could see the little twitches in her eyebrows as she closely watched. Even in her regal role, she still had not lost a warrior's instinct.
Nor-Var had clambered to his feet by now. Sabertooth pounced from the ground animalisticly, throwing his whole body at the boy. Nor-Var caught the huge man, flinging him over his shoulder. Whip-quick, one of Sabertooth's claws struck out as he was tossed, raking across Nor-Var's face. Blood poured from the wound as Sabertooth landed cumbersomely.
"You must have great confidence in Victor Creed, Your Majesty," Doom said.
"Or perhaps, it is no great loss if he dies? And please, do drop the titles in private, I have enough grovelers." she answered.
Wiping the blood from his face, Nor-Var took several heavy steps forwards and threw a wild hook at Sabertooth. Creed caught the swing by Nor-Var's wrist, and delivered a quick jab to the boy's arm pit. When he withdrew his claw, pulsatile spurts of blood followed it. If he was in pain, Noh-Var didn't show it. His other hand caught Sabertooth square in the side of the jaw, sending the large man sprawling to all fours. A heavy kick to the ribs followed, and Sabertooth was thrown back, rolling in a heap. He slowly pulled himself to his feet, and coughed up a wad of blood.
Noh-Var advanced menacingly, trails of his own life-fluid following him. The boy had a resolute expression on his face, but his stride was becoming ungainly as blood loss took its toll.
Smiling viciously through red stained teeth, Sabertooth began slowly circling Noh-Var, keeping his distance as the boy closed on him. The two warriors circled like this for several moments, Sabertooth staying tantalizingly just outside reach, and dodging back when Noh-Var would launch an attack.
Finally, when Noh-Var launched forward again, his weakness caught up with him, and he stumbled, going down to his knee. Instead of prowling away, Sabertooth ferociously pounced forwards. The crowd cheered in surprise as Noh-Var caught each of the deadly claws by the wrists.
For a moment, both fighters seemed at a standstill, straining against each other.
Rousing his strength, Noh-Var began gradually rising to his feet, twisting the claws outwards. An expression of frustrated rage crossed Sabertooth's visage as he realized that he still couldn't overpower the Kree. He continued to struggle as Noh-Var regained his footing.
Suddenly, Sabertooth ceased resisting. Noh-Var was caught by surprise as he fell forwards. In a blink, Sabertooth savagely bit down on the meat of Noh-Var's forearm, tearing a massive hunk of bloody flesh from it. He spat the gory mess into the boy's face, and fouled his eyes. With the loss of functional tissue in his arm, he could no longer restrain Sabertooth's hand, and the brute punched his claw through his throat, talons penetrating to the back of his neck.
Sabertooth quickly scrambled away, and Noh-Var held his good hand up to the gory wreckage of his neck. His blood streamed through his fingers, and whatever alien biology that had been keeping him alive began to fail. He fell to his knees, deep in the mud of his own vital fluids and dark sand.
Lifting his arms in victory, Sabertooth looked to the crowd, rousing them further as they cheered for the death of the Kree. After a few moments of working up the crowd, he turned and kicked Noh-Var in the chest, laying him on his back. He stood over the boy and began brutally rending him with his claws, taking care to not cut too deep. After a minute, all that was left was a grisly mess and a few locks of white hair.
Verkane politely clapped and nodded as the crowd shouted their approval at the death of the Kree. Sabertooth turned to the royal box and gave a quick bow before walking out of the arena. No guards had appeared to escort him away. Doom suspected that Victor Creed was as happy in this life than he ever had been.
Veranke turned to him, "Are you enjoying the entertainment, Doom?"
"I enjoy their purpose-" he answered after a moment. "-Compelling ones erstwhile enemies to kill and die for one's amusement is a rather beautiful expression of power. Though I doubt you can surpass the previous bout."
"Indeed?" she said puckishly.
A few moments later a handcuffed man was lead into the area by a group of guards. He wore a Kree military uniform bearing the colours of Captain Marvel, but he was obviously a Skrull. His wavy blonde hair appeared garish against his green skin. One of his guards undid the large handcuffs before the group scurried away. The prisoner rubbed his wrists as he looked around, scanning the crowd as they hissed and booed at him.
Veranke stood up, moving to the edge of her booth as she waved her hands to quiet the crowd. She waited a pensive few moments after a hush fell across the aliens.
"Khn'nr; you have betrayed the Skrull Empire. Worse still, you reject your union with your people. Despite all this, in our mercy, you have been given chance after chance to reconcile yourself with us. Thusly, we come to your last chance. Before the Skrull people; your brothers and sisters, and before God; whose blessings on our Empire are manifestly abundant, will you repent? Will you accept the clemency that is your birthright?"
Khn'nr stood defiantly, leveling an accusatory finger at the royal booth, "I have seen enough of your so-called mercy on the day you launched this invasion! Your empire is built on treachery and dishonor!" He spun around, pointing at the crowd of Skrulls as he continued, "Your 'prophesy' is lie, and truth will avenge itself upon you!" The assembled Skrulls roared out in disapproval, and Khn'nr finished his circle, again facing the royal booth. "I may have Skrull blood, but I bear the spirit of a Kree!" he roared out contemptuously.
Veranke let the crowd howl out their anger for a short period before she silenced them with a curt gesture.
"It pains me to hear your last words dripping with blasphemy and hatred for your kin," she said, solemnly. "It is therefore only appropriate that one who willingly joined our fold cleanses your stain from our race," she finished, her concilliary tone replaced with razor steel.
Doom leaned forward in astonishment as a new figure sauntered into the arena ground. By all appearances, Iron Man boldly strode through the red sands! But he was...different.
The iconic red and gold was replaced with royal purple and gunmetal steel. The confidence of the old Iron Man seemed to have been returned, and Doom wondered how that broken wretch that he saw in Stark Tower could have recovered so quickly.
Khn'nr turned slowly, sizing up the approaching figure warily. Even the crowd seemed confused as a murmur built up.
Iron Man stopped a short distance from the dissident Skrull. With deliberate slowness he brought one hand up to the corner of his helmet, and the face mask receded.
The crowd erupted rapturously.
The face in the suit was recognizably Tony Stark's. The pencil mustache and goatee, the winning smile, and his intelligent eyes were unmistakable.
But now he was a Skrull.
Iron Man gave the crowd a heroic wave, his wide smile and white teeth contrasting with his green skin and alien features. Doom didn't realize until this moment that he had shot out of his seat and was standing, such was his shock.
Veranke returned to her throne, and Doom lowered himself into his own. She settled herself before making a gentle sweeping gesture.
Stark's face plate slammed down, his eyes and chest glowed a bright celadon as he reached full power, and he flung himself at Khn'nr in an instant. With a mighty punch, he sent Khn'nr flying, and the dissident cratered the wall. He pulled himself from the rubble, golden bands of energy flaring around him and flung himself back at Iron Man.
"Tony Stark was never a Skrull," Doom stated, flashes of green and yellow energy strobing the booth.
"Are you so sure?" Veranke replied, leaning towards him.
He looked her in the eye, "You would not have needed your virus to infect his technology, nor would you of needed it to injure him so greatly during the invasion."
She cocked an eyebrow as she spoke, "You are perceptive, Doom." She paused before continuing, "No, he was not. But my scientists have completed the Ascension Process."
"Ascension Process?"
"Yes, we have created a method of converting humans into Skrulls. They are still perfecting the method for mass numbers, but the science is settled."
Doom looked back at the fight. "Fascinating," he said. Was this the reason the Skrulls went to so much effort to spare the human population? The aliens were severally depopulated themselves. With how many X-genes made up the Skrull genetic code, would that explain why they wished to possess humanity, given the races obvious compatibility with such genetic coding?
Khn'nr was blocking a barrage of laser bolts with his golden shields, flying at Stark at high speed. When he got close, he delivered an overhand strike that sent Stark crashing into the ground.
Veranke seemed almost predacious in her amusement. "You know, I've wondered if you will undergo the process," she said to him.
"Doom is as he is," he replied adamantly, staring her down as he spoke.
She let out laugh and suddenly seemed to relax. "I thought as much. No, this is a gift for all mankind, not an obligation. No one will be forced to undergo the procedure, though I suspect you may reconsider when you see the benefits."
Doom chose not to answer. By now, the two fighters in the arena were in the grips of hand-to-hand. It was clear that the two were evenly matched in terms of skill, though Iron Man's advanced armor gave a clear advantage in terms of strength and durability, not to mention his considerable arsenal. Khn'nr seemed to recognize that his best chance lay in close-quarters.
The two fighters slowly rose into the air as they traded punches, kicks, and energy blasts, each blocking and countering in turn. Khn'nr suddenly grabbed Stark in a bear hug, twisting his flight path to drive him into the ground. Stark head-butted the dissident, though the attack had little effect.
Abruptly, Khn'nr let out a howl of pain as Stark's unibeam bored a fist sized hole in his chest in a flash of light. Letting go, he held up his hands to the wound in disbelief. Khn'nr slowly descended from the air for a second, before the mortal wound caught up to him, and he fell to the ground in a puff of sand, unmoving.
The crowd cheered for their new champion as Stark hovered in the air, waving to his kindred.