The morning after his meeting with Mr. McKenzie, the merman was, per Victor's instructions, being conveyed to the laboratory at Von Doom Industries. And any lower level lackeys who might have gotten in the way had been cleared out-given a paid vacation and told to not ask too many questions.

Victor was seated on a laboratory stool, metal fingers tapping out a rhythm on the countertop, eyes occasionally darting to study the clock on the wall. They should be here any minute, really. He'd give them another few seconds.

"What the devil am I doing here?" Came the voice of Namor McKenzie as he was led through the doors.

Although the smile under Victor's mask may not have been evident, the amusement in his voice certainly was. "Good day, Mr. McKenzie. And how are you doing on this lovely day?"

"Answer my question, Doom," Namor growled. "What am I doing here? I'd been under the impression that you already knew exactly what you were going to force me into."

"Oh, of course," Victor assured him. "But regardless, my plans cannot move ahead until I fully know and understand the limits of your rather extraordinary abilities." Just to know how he would measure up against the awesome Fantastic Four. Victor had watched them closely via hidden cameras in the Baxter Building, and their last fight had certainly cemented the opinion that underestimating them was a huge error on his part.

"What could you possibly need to know?" Namor McKenzie questioned contemptuously. "You already know everything." Unless it was something that vivisection would teach him. Though really, that couldn't be the case. Von Doom had said that he would need his assistance for something, and Namor couldn't see what purpose that would serve.

"Quite to the contrary," Doom answered, shaking his head. "For instance, I know nothing of your strength. Or your ability to fly. Do your lungs support you as well as your gills would?" And with that the interrogation was underway, punctuated by brief periods of testing on various machines. One measured Namor's strength, another hhis speed, yet another endurance. And when it was all finally done, Namor sat upon the sool, glaring up at Doom as his blood was taken for analysis.

"That should be more than sufficient," Doom noted.

"So then I'm free to go?"

"For the moment," Victor nodded. "Have fun at your fundraiser next week. Do you happen to have a spare invitation?"

"Why?" Namor snorted. "Are you planning on attending?" That would truly be something to see. The metal man charming his way through a crowd just as his human underpinnings had done before the aftermath of the flight to the Von Doom Space Station.

"No," Doom scoffed. Show his horribly scarred face to the masses? Unthinkable. "But there are some old friends I think it would be in your best interest to invite. Give Leonard the invitation when you arrive at your apartment. I'll see it's sent to the right people." And then, before Namor could object, he dismissed him with a curt, "Goodbye."