Perhaps I was getting as paranoid as Victor, but everything was just too perfect -- Valeria's interruption notwithstanding. Something was going to happen. Narrative convention, as well as the Laws of Heroics, demanded it.
As we were polishing off the cake and beginning to think of going to the play, Victor rose. "Honored guests -- you may have wondered that I spoke no word, other than simple thanks, to these friends who were so kind as to drink to our health and happiness. I was remiss. I shall correct that now. Boris -- my father's oldest friend, and mine as well -- our gift to you shall have to wait until later -- later today. It is private. Doctor Strange", Victor gestured to two footman, who stepped forward. "To you, the mantle of the mage Prosper, that same sage after whom Shakespeare patterned the Prospero of his Tempest." The servants unrolled an ancient and somewhat shabby velvet robe.
"I thank you," Stephen replied. "It's priceless. I'm honored to be its guardian."
"You are welcome. Now." Victor gestured to a different footman. "A token of my esteem for you, Richards."
I tensed up. The footman handed Reed a portfolio, which he opened with great care. A shade of suspicion crossed his face as he surveyed the contents. "These are my patents.", he said, puzzled.
Oh, no. The thread holding up that sword of Damocles had just been cut, and I could only watch it fall, helpless to prevent it.
"I don't understand." Reed said. "Winfield-Merton owns these."
"No longer. I bought out that branch of Winfield-Merton. Three days ago." Victor informed him. "The drop in gasoline consumption in Europe of late." -- almost entirely due to Victor's developments -- "has driven the price of gas down to less than a dollar per gallon in America. This is causing Winfield-Merton to face certain financial distresses. They were very glad to have the money."
As large as the pavilion was, and despite all the people in it, it was dead silent. Everyone was listening to Reed and Victor.
"Not their entire research and development division -- and their whole production line?" Reed's eyes turned excruciatingly wary, and his brow creased into three vertical lines.
"No. I bought out their division dedicated to keeping those developments and inventions which they deemed too… disruptive to the status quo in a state of perpetual preproduction." Victor was going to drive this sword in to the hilt.
A hunted, haunted look came over Reed's face. He set the portfolio done on the table and began sorting through his patents rapidly. Victor continued, "It was done through three proxies, of course, and with the proviso that I would not put them into production, nor sell them to any company that would. They could not imagine that I would see fit to give them away. You are not the only one who will be receiving his patents back -- there were thousands of them. I shall return them to the inventors in due course. These are yours to do with as you see fit."
Having driven in the blade, Victor gave it a twist. There wasn't even a trace of gloating in his voice -- but he had just told Reed that Victor Von Doom could afford to buy everything Reed Richards owned, then turn around, give it back to him as a gift -- and never miss it.
"The antigravity -- my cold-fusion generator -- the superconductivity modules --. It can't be. None of these were in production?" Reed asked, incredulous. He was asking himself as much as he was asking Victor.
"I am not the person from whom you should demand an explanation." Victor said, utterly neutral.
Reed Richards' expression changed. He gave Victor an assessing, analyzing look. "Do you realize what you've done?" he asked.
"Yes. I'm spotting you a pawn." Victor was referring to a practice in chess. When two players of unequal ability sat down to play together, it was customary for the better player to remove one of his pawns from the board, thus giving the lesser player an advantage.
You could have heard a pin drop in the pavilion. No one made a sound. Sue was looking back and forth between the two of them -- so was I, actually. Intense concern was written all over her face. She could tell Reed had caught a serious blow, but she didn't know the full extent of it yet.
Read close the portfolio and fastened it very carefully. "Thank you, Victor," he said, as neutral as Victor was. "I can see I'll have to mind the store more carefully." He managed to smile, but it looked painful.
"And now," Victor said to all and sundry, "We have a play to attend."
What had Victor just done? Yes, he had injured Reed Richards, and through him, the Fantastic Four, but this was not the mortal wound it would have -- could have -- been. This was a cut that would heal -- eventually. After all, a large part of their funding was now cut off, and Reed would have to figure out what to do with his patents now. Would he try to put them into production on his own, or would he farm them out to someone else again -- but keep a closer eye on them this time?
I had no doubt that Richards, and the Four, would recover, but they would never be the same again. The battle lines were being redrawn, and where before Victor and Reed fought with bombs and powers, now they would fight with barbed words and cutting comments. On the surface it would probably look like a friendship, but underneath! Reed had a lot of catching up to do. It would be very interesting to see what came of this. My mind reeled at the thought of it.
Victor offered me his arm, and we led the way to the outdoor amphitheater. I had several dozen questions to ask him, but I contented myself with a single word, which encompassed them all. "Why?"
"Do you recall the other evening, when you asked me why I had surrendered the world to the Avengers without a fight?" he asked me.
"Yes. You said it was an empty victory." I replied.
"You compared the situation -- one where I faced no opposition -- to being like weightlessness. You said that without the force of gravity to struggle against, bones become brittle and weak -- meaning that without competition, my driving force would be diminished, depleted. I considered your words carefully, and imagined a world in which Reed Richards was too crushed by his struggle against Winfield-Merton to be any threat to me anymore. It struck me as being very dull. Loathsome and bothersome as he is, he is the only opposition even close to my intellectual weight.
"Moreover, given what I have learned over the past few days, he is no more responsible for his transgressions against me than I am for the defeats I have suffered. It is not that I forgive him -- but a chess piece is not responsible for where the player sets it down. Under the circumstances, I can afford to be generous."
I looked at him. "If I were not already signed on to have your babies, this would have me pleading for the chance."
That made him chuckle. "Somehow I knew you would like that."
I squeezed his arm gently, mindful of the armor. "So the world as we know it comes to an end, and now a new one -- with so much to discover -- begins." I mused.
"But first -- Shakespeare." Victor commented.
"Someone I'm glad to bring along from the old world into the new." I agreed, but I was still planning to corner Reed and ask him why he said I shouldn't marry Victor…
A/N:If you thought I was going to have this all be a dream...I would never do that to you.