Author notes: Thanks a lot to the people who took time to review this story or mark it as a favorite. I'm always happy to read what you have to say about what I write. In this particular case, you prompted me to continue writing this crossover.
I hope you will like this new chapter of O marvelous new world.
Thanks to Narsil for betaing this chapter
HOLD ON YOUR HORSES!
March 16, 1985
An Editorial from Daily Bugle publisher J. Jonah Jameson
Most people in this country saw the news about Latveria. You can bet that the Bugle is on the case too. My old friend Phil Sheldon is over there and you will find in today's edition the first report he sent us about how things go in Doom-land.
I will let him tell you what he thinks about the armor because I want to stress a point right now. Those Phil calls the 'marvels', people with superpowers: they're here to stay. We now have to find a way to live with them. Notice that I didn't say 'deal with them'. No matter his style, that's what Doom did right: he found a way for normal people and super-powered ones to live together. I want to believe that if he can do it, so can we.
But, you will say, how can I feel safe near a guy that can light things on fire with his mind? Yeah, you know what? I have a box of matches on my desk. I can also light things on fire on a whim, but I don't. I've seen enough sordid murders here in New York to know that the problem is never the tool. It's always the person wielding it.
Yes, some of the 'marvels' will be a problem, but it will be because they're not decent people, not because they have powers. We just need to give our police the right tools so that the laws we already have can apply to them, not treat them all as a problem to get rid of. On my office wall, I have a picture Phil took in the Nazi death camps to remind me of where that road leads.
- New York, 16 March 1985 -
Buffy was sitting next to her Mom in the taxi that brought them to Manhattan. Joyce had agreed to let her come with her when she visited her old college friends. The little girl was curious to meet other people who knew her Dad, even if her Mom had told her that they didn't always get along. She would also likely see big science stuff, which would be nice. What was less nice was that those people were not in the know about magic and she would have to lie again.
But no need to play dumb like with cousin Celia or the kids at the kindergarten and that's good. Mom's old friends know Dad and they won't mind if I'm smart.
This was something that was seriously starting to annoy her with the kids at the kindergarten. She wouldn't have minded if they just didn't understand her. She knew that her family was not exactly normal. No, the real problem was that at least some of them thought that they were better than her because they were dumb.
Honestly, I just don't understand them… as if being a nerd was a bad thing! They just don't know how the world really works. It's like in Auntie Daji's stories: the big, dumb warrior is always made a fool of by the clever fox. Maybe things would work better if I did the thinking for them? I wonder what Dad would think about that…
Buffy wasn't sure when she started to feel really different. The fact her parents were smart too probably helped in her opinion, but it wasn't all. No, she had discussed enough with the other kids to know that the way she was raised had nothing to do with theirs and it wasn't only the matter of her family being magical.
Her Auntie Daji had a way to push her to think. First it had been with stories that were not only fun, full of heroes of ancient, magical China but also always taught her something like fables did. Then she started to explain things, making sure she understood why something was important like she did yesterday when they talked about kingdoms and democracies. She also taught her how to read and write and regularly gave her short texts – and not the kiddy stuff – to read and that they discussed about afterwards.
Her Auntie Greer had often some fun things to do or tell about science. In fact, Buffy had noticed how much her aunt liked it when she asked questions about it and it had become an integral part of her relationship with her. Too many of the magical people who came to the shop seemed to not see beyond the fact Auntie Greer was a catgirl and completely forgot that she was also a skilled lab technician.
As for her Mom, what she taught her was rather related to art, but Buffy had quickly understood why it was important when she saw the drawings her Dad made. Both the robot schematics and the portrait of her Mom showed a lot of talent and a comparison with Leonardo da Vinci's work allowed Buffy to understand why her Mom often used the words 'Renaissance Man' to talk about Victor von Doom.
In the end, what Buffy knew was that all of this kind of turned on a big switch in her head and learning just became easy and fun. She could play dumb to fit in, to pretend she was 'normal', but it was becoming harder every day. The problem was not that she couldn't. She just didn't see the point and she wanted her Dad to be proud of her. In her Mom's stories, Victor von Doom was not someone who played dumb.
She really hoped that they would go live with her Dad soon. She wasn't sure what her life would be like once she was officially a princess, but she had little doubt that she would be encouraged to be smart. There was one thing she really hoped too. She hoped that she would finally have a friend her age she could really talk with. Even if her Mom and aunts were nice, it was lonely sometimes.
With a little luck… maybe even a girl who likes science like I do.
They soon reached a big building and Buffy switched into observation mode as they got off the taxi. There were some shops and a restaurant with their own entrances at ground level, but they were aiming for the main lobby. She listened distractedly as her Mom spoke with the doorman who said he would call so that they could get into the private top floors without problem. She instead looked at the plaques next to the lifts. They indicated offices in the lower floors, but no name rang any bell.
"Mom, how did you say that style is called?" she asked, taking in details of the lobby which looked kind of like an old movie in her opinion.
"Art Deco, honey," replied Joyce as they walked to take the lift. "The building is actually nice but…"
"Auntie Daji would complain about cleanliness," finished Buffy, passing a finger on a surface inside the lift and looking with a critical eye at the dust on it.
Joyce could only smile. When she arrived in the USA, Daji had decided to apply some Asian stereotypes to her own behavior in order to fit in, applying just enough twist to better fit her foxy nature. As a young single mother, Joyce had of course turned to her for advice on how to educate Buffy and decided that applying Daji's variant of the Asian Tiger Mother was the best solution. She agreed with the foxwoman that the earlier they started to help Buffy to realize her potential, the better it would be. Buffy sure had the capacity and if she was taught how to use it from the beginning, her mind would develop in a thing of terrible beauty.
Still… as proud as I am of her, she's lonely. The simple fact she asked to come with me today… because she has no real friends to play with, no one to share her secrets with. Maybe if I had…
She pushed the thought away. She wouldn't delve on what had been, particularly not if it meant she had to put up with sleazebags like Hank Summers to give her little girl a 'normal' lifestyle… in fact, the simple thought of the daughter of Victor von Doom as some spoiled airhead was pure anathema.
"Sue!" she said, smiling as the lift's door opened to reveal a blond woman. "It's good to see you again."
She went to hug her old friend, but she could not help but notice how tired and tense she looked.
"Buffy, this is Sue Storm, my best friend from college."
"Nice to meet you, Ms. Storm," replied Buffy. "I'm Elisabeth von Doom. Mom told me that you knew my Dad?"
"Yes, I did," replied Sue with a smile as she crouched to put herself on level with Buffy's head. "You have your father's eyes, not only the color but the way you look at things… Elisabeth, one of my friends had a lab accident, but I assure you it's perfectly safe."
"Sue, what happened?" asked Joyce.
"Sis, I think it's better to rip that band-aid quickly," said a blond man in some kind of blue spandex jumpsuit as he arrived in the hallway.
Joyce frowned. Back in college, Johnny Storm was someone whose presence she suffered only because he was Sue's little brother. It wasn't that he wasn't brilliant, both as an amateur motorbike racer and a mechanic, but he was also an immature adrenaline junkie in Joyce's opinion.
Or he was three years ago… here and now: insecure, walking on eggshells and trying to hide it behind a cocky smile. Why?
"Hello Johnny," said Joyce. "Why the… costume?"
"Something Reed cooked up, don't remember the full name but I call it 'unstable molecules', lot catchier. The good thing is that it has no problem when I do that," he replied as he snapped his fingers and his right index took fire. "Cool, no?"
"Wouldn't that be hot?" asked back Buffy.
"Ooh… I like her!" replied Johnny Storm with a laugh as he blew his finger off. "There is just a tiny little problem with that 'hot' stuff: control… and that's why I look like I'm out of a Star Trek spin-off," he finished, his smile vanishing. "We thought that maybe…"
"I see," cut in Joyce. "You too?" she asked, turning toward Sue.
"Ben and Reed as well," replied Sue. "The warning I gave was actually about Ben. Let's get this conversation into a more comfortable place."
Sue led them in the living room and Joyce winced when she saw the orange, rocky humanoid sitting in an old armchair. As Reed, who was clad in a blue jumpsuit like the one Johnny wore, had just gotten up from the nearby couch…
"Ben?" she asked, facing the man in the armchair.
"Yeah… sorry for not telling you yesterday but I thought it would be simpler to believe if you just saw it," he replied, rising and scratching the back of his head, obviously embarrassed.
"I understand. What happened?"
"I do not have enough elements to reply at this point. We were testing an experimental drive. There was a spike in the containment field but instead of a deadly gamma shower, this happened," replied Reed as his arms elongated to illustrate his point. "To be honest, we hoped that you could help us to get in touch with Victor. He has… people like us working for him."
Joyce closed her eyes for an instant. She had to take a decision about what to reveal to her friends.
Thank the Vishanti, Daji declared me ready for being a journeyman sorceress yesterday… said I would need it. I just didn't think it would be this early.
"Okay… let's try to get more data then. By Agamotto the All-Seeing, may my eyes see the strands of fate and magic!" she said while passing a hand before her eyes, which started to glow with soft green light while mandalas of green light circled her hands.
On the side, Buffy couldn't help giggling. She knew it wasn't really fair. She knew how hard it had been for her Auntie Greer when she suddenly had to cope with the supernatural. Still, Sue putting two fingers under her brother's jaw to close his gaping mouth was just too funny. The man with the grey hair at his temples looked very interested and his neck… well, it was over two feet long now. For her it was no big deal. Auntie Daji sometimes forgot to hide a tail or two when she got distracted and this man probably did not have much habit with his powers yet.
As for the rocky one… Buffy knew better than to judge people by their appearance. Some of the demons who came to the shop were quite ugly by human standards, but they were also nice people. In this case, Buffy trusted what she could see in his eyes. They were the eyes of a good person but…
He's lonely, just like me… can't disturb Mom now. I know!
She went to stand next to him and put her little hand into his big, orange one. If she guessed right from the way the armchair behaved, he was very heavy and very strong and that meant he could easily crush her. Buffy was sure he would understand that it wasn't simple childish insouciance but a way to tell him that she his trusted him not to hurt her.
She kept her eyes on his, seeing his surprise and then… yes, she was sure he understood. The educators at the kindergarten once said, when they thought that she could not hear them, that her eyes were too old. She knew it was helping her now, making him see that she was serious. He had a smile and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing, installing her on his lap as he sat back in the armchair.
"First, I want you to realize that I am in no way an expert," said Joyce as her spell faded and she took out a notepad to write down some observations. "I only started to learn this seriously after I left college."
"This?" asked Johnny. "You just pull off something… I know I'm not Reed, but I can put two and two together. That was magic, right?"
"We prefer sorcery," replied Joyce with a little smile. "To make a rough comparison, magic is a form of energy. Sorcery is a means to manipulate it."
"A parallel technology," added Reed. "Really fascinating. It puts a whole new perspective on the Third Law of Clarke."
"Victor once said that sorcery was a means to hack the source code of reality," replied Joyce with a nod. "To come back to your case, whatever happened, your chi is stable now. I do not see a risk of degeneration or further mutation. Ben…"
"It means I'm stuck like this, right?" he asked with a heavy sigh while Buffy leaned against him to hug him.
"I have no idea how this could happen. I won't risk trying to reverse it when the smallest mistake could kill you."
"Can you help us with the control issue?" asked Sue, obviously wanting to change the subject.
"Yes, but before this, I need your word on something. We sorcerers are a… secretive bunch. My secrets are mine to share but if you want more help, then there are some rules you will need to follow."
"You're not going to make us do gross things like kiss a turkey's ass, right?" asked Johnny, visibly afraid.
Joyce raised an eyebrow, barely resisting the urge to make up something utterly embarrassing. She had a good of idea of where that question had come from. Some years ago, Johnny had said some things about his college fraternity and hazing rituals.
"No," she finally replied. "It's just a matter of discretion. Normally, I would say things like 'who would believe you anyway?' but with what Victor did yesterday… I need to make a call. I realize that it's not a decision I can take alone. Please excuse me for a minute."
She took out her cell phone and left the room. Buffy could tell that she was calling Auntie Daji.
"So?" asked Buffy with a smile. "Is there any science stuff I can look at while Mom is on the phone?"
OPINION
DOOM'S DAY
By Phil Sheldon, March 15, 1985 (Published on March 16, 1985)
A few months ago, I had contact with some Latverian partisans who offered an opportunity to come see how it really was inside one of the world's most closed dictatorships. At first, I hesitated. As some of you know, I wrote my first articles as a junior war correspondent during World War Two and, after a few decades spent covering conflicts all over the world, I was really thinking about saying yes to the offer Jonah made me about handling the Bugle's international service from a comfortable desk in New York. Then I thought… well, let's do it, one last time and after that I'll think about that desk job. Believe me, I had absolutely no idea of what I was signing up for.
I arrived in the country two weeks ago, after a complicated and clandestine trip through Yugoslavia. It was then though that my nose started tingling. Every step of the trip was a well-oiled machine and I was wondering if I had not stepped in some major operation of the CIA. It was also then that I started to hear people talk about Doom. Oh, given that those people were speaking in Latverian or in German, deducing that it was a name of some kind was easy. What intrigued me was the devotion of those people to this mysterious figure. After asking about him, I was told that he would meet me when he chose and not before. In the meantime, Doom had demanded that I be left free to observe their operations and get a feeling for how the country fared under the Fortunov regime.
Given some of the things I have seen during those last decades, I know very well what kind of beast humans can become and believe me, I needed every bit of coolness I could muster. I witnessed executions made for no other reason than that a local officer found it amusing. I heard mothers tell me how their daughters were taken by force from their home and their broken, violated remains later found in some ditch. I saw farmers left with barely enough to survive while officials fattened themselves with black market profits. The situation had reached such a level that I knew that the revolution was near. From my experience, it was going to be a bloody mess from which Latveria would take decades to recover. I had not counted on Victor von Doom.
Who is Doom? From what I could gather, his family is a branch of the House of Habsburg, one of Europe's largest noble houses. When the family fell on hard times at the end of World War One, they hid among Gypsy friends based mostly in Latveria. I learned that Victor lost his parents because of Fortunov and had to go into exile after some years fighting as a partisan. Where did he go after that? I know he spent some time in America and more recently in a place I think may be in Nepal, but that's it.
What I could better observe was his influence in Latveria. All the partisan networks answered to him and applied his plans without any discussion. They had learnt with the years that a thing that may not make immediate sense was always part of a much bigger plan and that a tiny pebble here could have been thrown to engineer a precise reaction at the other end of the country. The result of Doom's chessmastering? While never having the impression of fighting an organized enemy, the dictator's army had been thrown into a state of disarray and paranoia that made it very vulnerable. All what Doom had to do then was to make the final move to checkmate and this is what happened on the Ides of March 1985.
I met Doom the day before. He organized a press conference where I was (half) surprised to see that I was not the only journalist in country. The BBC and the TASS Agency for the TV, some people I knew like Paulo DiCarlo from the Corriere della Sera and Nicole Fournier, a freelance French political chronicler who usually writes in Le Monde and Le Canard Enchaîné. Others I met for the first time, but whose articles I had read like Hiroshi Saito from the Asahi Shinbun. I quickly noticed a pattern though: only one journalist or TV team per country and all the people I knew personally or by reputation had a habit of speaking their mind. We were here to see history in the making and to say what we thought about it. It was confirmed today when I was given the means to send my article to the Bugle without any censorship.
The first time I saw Doom, I blinked when I saw the armor. It was a joke, right? There was no way that he decided to dress like a comic book character. Then I noticed how he moved and the laugh didn't even reach my lips. I realized that he had a right to dress as a comic book character, because he brought things that start with 'super' out of it. See, I remember quite painfully having to carry my 60 pounds combat load in the French countryside. True, in a knight armor, the weight is better distributed but there is no way anyone could wear that for long periods and move as if he is on a stadium wearing shorts and t-shirt. Doom does move like that and he can easily turn book pages with his gauntlets.
I tried to be rational, told myself it could be some flimsy thing he wore for show. Sure. This morning, during the coup, I saw him stop an assault rifle bullet with his hand. Strength enhancing exoskeleton, personal force field, death rays in the gauntlets, jetpack: you name it, he has it. In short, going against this armor with anything less than a tank or a full airstrike is akin to suicide… and that's if the robot tanks didn't shoot you with their railguns before you could even see them. But you know what? The fact he has that technology is not even the most important thing about it. The most important thing is that I have good reasons to believe that 'Doctor Doom' built all that super-science stuff himself.
I was barely beginning to swallow that pill when I received another hard slap on the face. During the preparation, I had some contacts with a petite Japanese woman who presented herself as one of Doom's collaborators. This morning, I learned that the Lady Knight Kasumi Asakura can take out a full platoon of elite forces all by herself with just a katana blade… and rainbow mist. Yes, she's the one you saw on the BBC. She was my first contact with those I chose to call the marvels.
Why marvels? I have several reasons to prefer it to the term 'mutant' often used by some of my colleagues. One is that the clues I have point at diverse origins and 'marvels' is more inclusive, describing people who can do extraordinary things without indicating where their abilities come from. I know, you probably mostly saw them break things but that was because those you saw are soldiers and it was war. This afternoon, after the last of Fortunov's troops surrendered, I saw Lady Asakura use those same mist tendrils to lift rubble and rescue people. Another of the Knights took control of house fires with his powers, making the flame die just by willing it.
It was then that hit me. It was not the first time I met a marvel. No, the first time had been in 1942, the day I saw someone I believed to be just a propaganda figure. Yes, I am talking about Captain America. When you look at events without preconceptions, you realize that the marvels have been here for a very long time. Most of the time, they just vanish into the background, probably not wanting to fall victim to some fanatics looking for a witch hunt. During World War Two… I suppose the stakes were just too high and some of them used the funny costumes and identities as a way to easily become ludicrous rumors once things were calmer. We just forgot about Captain America, Union Jack, Spitfire or the Red Skull. It has probably been that way many other times, with those people just fading into the background while what they did became myths and legends.
It was then that it all fell together, that I really understood what Doom is doing here. I already knew that this was no simple coup where one dictator replaces another. He would not have spent resources to get people like me in the country if it had been or made sure I could send my article without any censorship.
I think Doom realized that, in this Age of Information where we talk about concepts like the Global Village, the marvels would not be able to stay hidden for much longer. So, he chose to reveal them on his terms and to make sure the whole world would watch and listen, he did it by making it part of his plot to free his country from its tyrant. He wanted to send us a message.
So, let's look at what today's events said. Crowning himself king will be something many people will have difficulties with. Some probably already said that he meant to tell us that we should let the super-powered people rule us. They forgot a few things: First, Doom is not a mutant, just one of the most intelligent humans on the planet. I don't see us complaining that another very smart human called Tony Stark rules over a corporate empire whose turnover dwarfs the budget of Latveria.
Second, Nicole, who is used to the tangled mess of the European political scene, told me this: "It's not because you give them the right to vote that people will magically do the right thing. All those people knew for the last sixty years is a brutal dictatorship. They don't know how to be free and there are too many people who would exploit such innocent lambs. I hope Doom can protect them… and that this Queen I heard rumors about will temper his steel a little bit."
Sadly, I have to agree. I have seen too many optimistic dreams turn into bitter farces during the decolonization. Is Doom the ruler Latveria needs? I don't know but I have seen some encouraging signs. The Knights is the most equal opportunity military unit I have ever seen. Gender or species just don't matter. The commanding officer earned his posting because he is a soldier with decades of experience, not because he is a white human male. Among the Knights, having superpowers just mean that you are a specialist, in the same way a human soldier can be trained to be a specialist in communications or demolitions. If the Knights are an indication of how Doom does things, then there is reason to hope.
So, I'm going to stick around for a while and see how things go here in Latveria. Right now… well, someone once said that a revolution without dancing is not a revolution worth having and the Gypsies sure know that. I can hear the laughs and the violins in the streets and I think that tonight, I will taste the joy (and the mean ales) of the Latverian people.
- Baxter Building, 16 March 1985 -
Johnny Storm shook his head as he looked at a little girl called Elisabeth von Doom. She was following Reed's explanations about how satellites moved – sometimes with a little bit of 'translation' provided by Sue – with an ease no four-year-old should have. Oh, he remembered well enough his encounters with her father to understand where it was coming from. That look of utter concentration, as if the problem would be blown away just by applying enough willpower at it, was typical Victor von Doom.
But she should be having fun doing kiddy stuff, playing with dolls…
He was broken out of his musing by a thing she did that was definitely not Victor-like: she giggled at some lame, nerd joke Reed did. It was then that it hit him: she was having fun. She was just doing it in a different way that had little to do with the female stereotypes he had been raised with… and that Sue regularly bitched about.
Okay Johnny, stop being a macho pig. She wants to be Mini-Victor: fine if she has fun doing it. Remember that day where Joyce poured that ice-cold Coke on your lap precisely because you were a macho pig.
"I talked with my teacher. She will be here with some basic books about meditation techniques we use for wild talents like yours in a moment," said Joyce as she came back in the room.
"Thanks, Joyce," said Ben, stopping his reading of the day's Daily Bugle. "Did she…"
He was interrupted by a small ball of ghostly white flames appearing out of nowhere. It quickly grew to six feet in diameter while still shedding no heat and only pale light. An instant later, the flames became fur and Daji's nine tails disentangled and retracted to reveal the foxwoman dressed in a red and gold floor-length silk cheongsam.
"Good afternoon. I am Su Daji, Joyce's sifu," she said, using her maiden name. "Johnny boy, can you put that out?"
He realized she was talking to him and that he had fully flamed on, becoming a human torch, probably in reaction to the potential danger. As for her appearance… given what had happened to them recently, he was not about to let details like some fox tails or teleporting abilities cloud his judgement about a woman's hotness. Daji was one of the hottest women he had ever encountered.
He concentrated, calming, drawing the flames back inside while the foxwoman's scarlet eyes observed him. It was then that he understood something that made him think he would have to be very cautious around her. Daji was not a human with powers like him, but something else. She made him think of the stories about the spirits he heard last summer while visiting the tribe of his best friend and roommate, Wyatt Wingfoot.
"Thank you, this was instructive. I apologize for barging into your home uninvited, but we don't have much time to lose. I heard some rumors about a stone demon in New York and with the Slayer in town, things are a lot tenser than usual."
"Slayer… that doesn't sound good," said Sue.
"No, it isn't. In short, she's a superpowered demon hunter. The problem is that the people training her are an ancient secret society with a very racist outlook about people like you or me. They usually train the Slayer to execute their orders without question and to consider any non-human as a danger to get rid of. Her presence in the city means that people will die and that she and her handler won't bother if not all of them are bad guys."
"Understood," said Ben, getting up from his armchair and raising the issue of the Daily Bugle he had been reading. "I think we also have another problem. Sheldon's article here is talking about Victor being in the States and it mentions rumors about a Queen. You can bet that a lot of people are going to start digging for facts about his time in college. They'll soon find us."
"Indeed," said Daji as one her tails made bookbags appear out of nowhere. "So, let's get to work."
- Latveria, 17 March 1985 -
Victor von Doom was sitting in front of the fireplace in the royal quarters' living room, allowing himself a moment of rest after an exhausting week. Thankfully, the plan had only encountered minor difficulties that the planned contingencies had already taken care of.
The brutality of the Fortunov regime meant that it had been relatively easy to identify what needed to be cleaned up in the bureaucracy. Those who had willingly taken part in the former regime's misdeeds were in jail until they could be judged. From a pure efficiency standpoint, he could have just lined them up with their backs to a wall and let a firing squad get rid of the problem, but he had to think about the international public opinion. A fair trial would be a good thing to show to the press. Even if they ended up using terms like 'kangaroo courts', it would be harder to vilify than summary execution.
That didn't mean that he would be lenient. Death awaited many of them, particularly some corrupt officials who made a fortune on the black market. Too many had starved because of food shortages that had nothing to do with what the country's farms actually produced. He needed to make it clear that he would not tolerate any form of corruption, even among his partisans.
Without corruption and with the programs we will soon start for greenhouses and hydroponic cultures, Latveria will be more than self-sufficient… and that means one less lever outsiders can use against us.
He sadly had to agree with Charles de Gaulle when he said that states have no friends, only interests. He had little doubt that there were already many vultures circling his country, looking for a weakness they could exploit. One of the first things they would try to use were the various things Latveria currently had to import, oil being the most evident. Disappointing them was going to be a very stimulating challenge.
The matter of energy was already solved, not that outsiders knew it. One of the first things he reverse-engineered from the Kree spacecraft had been a hydrogen-hydrogen nuclear fusion reactor. He already had the spare parts for several of them and assembly was underway. He had efficient designs for high-capacity rechargeable batteries, hydrogen-oxygen fuel cell and electric engines that could be used for vehicles sized from the simplest scooter to cargo propeller airplanes. The repurposing of some local factories had already started to produce them. With fusion power to provide clean and almost free electricity in vast quantities, what became economically sustainable, like spending the energy to produce hydrogen through water electrolysis on a large scale, changed radically. The country's oil reserves would easily last through the transition given the low number of civilian vehicles in the country that needed to be converted.
Fusion power was also a weapon of course. It wasn't only that he could tweak the technology to create thermonuclear weapons that didn't need a fission bomb to start the reaction. He had a few warheads in the hundred megatons range for his suborbital mass drivers, just in case, but it would remain a secret for now. No, the thing quite a few people in power would see was that fusion power was an economic weapon. By leaking that technology, Latveria could do serious damage to economies based on fossil fuels.
His most immediate problems were medical supplies and the raw materials Latveria's burgeoning industry needed. The former could be produced in-country, but he needed time to set up dedicated facilities. There were some national resources he could exploit for the latter but again, putting the infrastructure in place needed time and they wouldn't fill all the needs.
And this brings me to our dear neighbors… Without Tito to hold it together, I will need to meddle in Yugoslavia before it explodes. Thankfully, the USSR seems to have halted at least temporarily its downward spiral and that means I can play both sides against the middle, maybe even convince the neutral nations that neither the West nor the East is their friend and that creating a third block is the best solution… but for that I need to rock the boat a little more and I also need to make sure that another lever is out of the reach of my enemies.
He reached for the computer terminal on the coffee table next to his armchair and typed a few commands. He smiled behind his steel mask as a movie started to play on the screen. One of the people Mystique had just put in place to ensure some discreet security on his fiancée and daughter had managed to film his little girl while she was playing in the kindergarten and… his smile became a frown as he saw his little girl's expression.
"A well-known face, Master," said an elderly man as he came to set a tea tray on the table. "There is little doubt that she is your daughter."
Doom shared a look with the old man. Boris' family had been retainers of the von Doom for many generations and stayed so even after they had to hide among the Zefiro Gypsy clan. He had also been the one who raised him after his parents' death, though this was not the only tragedy that bound them together. Both of them remembered all too well how Valeria – Boris' granddaughter and Doom's first love – had been killed by the tyrant's men in circumstances neither of them wanted to mention.
"And I remember how alone I often felt when I was her age, Boris."
"Back then, Valeria often helped you with that."
"True… but the circumstances were different too. I do not wish her the hardships we went through when we were hunted by Fortunov's men, but they meant that my abilities were valued. My little Elisabeth… look at these children: bullies who will prefer to degrade her rather than recognize her evident superiority, so that they could rest unaware of their own mediocrity. I have little doubt that she is already despising them."
"Maybe she is pitying them, Master."
"Possible… we need to make sure she is in a healthier environment once in Latveria," he replied while calling another dossier on the terminal.
"Several of your Knights have their families coming into the country. The Lady Darkholme has an adopted daughter, for example."
"Rogue is already ten, but it is true that she can help. I have another possibility in mind, though. We will need to speed up things a little bit for the setting up of the Royal University. Two of my prospective teachers have a little girl who is Elisabeth's age and who shows signs of a superior intellect."
"A cute child, Master," said Boris as he looked at the picture of a tiny redhead girl. "What is her name?"
"Willow."
- Sunnydale, 18 March 1985 -
Willow was looking at the phone on the kitchen's wall, thinking it was now or never. Her Mom was away at the university and her Dad was busy in his study, on a call on the other line. Normally, on a day like this, she would be at her PK… but the kind lady who took care of them had been mauled by wild dogs and someone else had yet to take over. She took the cordless phone out of its support and went to sit on the ground behind the kitchen's island, where she would be difficult to see.
"555-666-4242," she said softly as she typed the number, thinking very hard about the person she wanted to reach. The person who had given her this phone number had told her that it was very important, because it was magical and would work from any phone but only for some people.
"Auntie 'Tana?" asked Willow as he heard someone answer the phone. "Do you have some time to talk?"
"Of course, embers," replied a sultry voice. "Let me just get rid…"
There was a scream that quickly became fainter, as if the being screaming was going away very fast.
"Here, all set," continued 'Tana. "Don't worry, he's fine, just like Wile E. Coyote in the cartoons."
Willow had a little giggle. Her Aunt always did funny stuff.
"Thanks Auntie…. it's so sad here."
"Oh? Tell me about what makes you so sad. Maybe it's something I can help with?"
"Maybe… you know that when I started PK last fall, I made some friends? "
"You told me that there was a boy called Xander and his big sister Barbara, right?"
"Yes, and later, there was also Jesse but… first Jesse moved away because his Dad got a new job, some big thing for Stark Industries. Now it's Xander and Barb who just left. Their Dad… I heard a policeman say that he had an accident with a barbecue fork but… I think he was lying."
"Barbecue fork… twin wounds… of course! Willow, you remember why your Dad told you to never invite anyone in after dusk?"
"Yes that's because of the vampires… oh! That's what the policeman was saying without really saying it? Barbecue fork is their way not to say vampire?"
"I think so. How are your friends? "
"That was strange too… Barb was looking… I mean, she had her resolve face on and said they were better off without him. She also said to Xander that they would use their Mom's name now – that's Ketch – and not Harris. I don't even have a phone number. I just now that they're going to New York because Xander and Barb's Mom has family there. "
"You know, embers, maybe Xander's Dad was a bad person… do you know his name?"
"Tony Harris."
"Okay, give me a minute," she replied as Willow could hear her aunt typing on a keyboard. "You know, I'm really happy that Daddy's years in America prompted him to modernize. Things are so much easier know that we have everything on computer… Got him! Oh… yes, bad person, definitely. Believe me when I say that your friends are better off without him."
"'Kay… but it's still sad. I never had real friends before them. When people see my birthmark…"
"I know, embers, but you'll make new friends… listen, I would gladly come to cheer you up but that's not possible before your birthday."
"Walpurgis Nacht is so far away…" she replied, using the same name her aunt always called the 30th of April.
"Willow, are you on the phone with my sister?" cut in a soft voice.
Willow looked up and saw her Dad looking at her, leaning on the kitchen island. She had inherited many things from him. Same red hair, same blue eyes and same annoying birthmark on the chest. Thankfully, he didn't look angry that she used the phone without permission but rather understanding, knowing that her mood had been really down lately. She nodded, and he walked around the island to sit next to her on the ground.
"Auntie 'Tana, Dad wants to talk with you," said Willow before giving the phone to her Dad.
"Hello Satana," said Daimon Hellstrom after pushing the phone's loudspeaker button.
"Wow!" replied Satana. "No snark or venom? Let me look out the window to see if things have just frozen over down here."
"You've been polite and offering comfort to Willow, Satana. For her sake, I'm willing to bury the hatchet with you."
Willow smiled as she cuddled with her Dad. The fights between him and her aunt were really not something she liked to witness.
"Hmm… Deal! Is Willow as alone as I heard?"
"Yes, Sunnydale is not making things easy. Though… Willow, didn't you start to trade barbs with that girl called Cordelia? Maybe…"
"Hmpf! She's mean!" cut in Willow. "Thinks she's so much better than everybody else because her Dad's rich… Dad, are you sure I can't tell her who Granddad is? So that she knows…"
"No, Willow," cut in Daimon. "First, she would not believe you and second, it's better not to say his name, particularly when you are angry and here, in Sunnydale. Bad people may be listening. Honey, I still need to talk to your mother about it, but we will probably move too. You're healthy enough now and I just received an offer for two professor jobs – one for me and one for your Mom – in a new university. It won't be near your friends, but it will be a new place, with opportunities to make new friends who won't mind that your eyes turn red when you're angry."
Willow perked up. Her first attempt at friendship, with a girl called Amy Madison who lived nearby, had ended in a disaster because of her demon side. It wasn't that Amy had been afraid of her, the problem had been her Mom, Catherine Madison. She had turned white when she saw her with her daughter and took Amy away, calling Willow a hellspawn and throwing that nasty, itchy water at her.
Later, her Dad had explained her that it was because Amy's Mom was a witch. Willow had not understood at first because she felt that Catherine's magic was almost like her own. It was then that her Dad had explained her that there were several countries in Hell and that he thought that Catherine Madison was following a different demon lord than her Granddad, maybe someone called Dormammu if he interpreted some signs correctly.
As for the healthy part… again, it was her demon side's fault. From what her parents told her, she was very ill when she was born, and they came to Sunnydale so that they could use the Hellmouth's magic to heal her. If she was healthy enough to leave, it really removed the last reason she had to stay, now that her friends were gone too.
"If Sheila agrees, when will you move out?" asked Satana.
"Soon," replied Daimon. "Even if classes won't start before next fall, there will be a lot of work to put things in place. When I said that the university is new, it's because Victor von Doom just signed the orders to create the Royal Latverian University."
"Latveria… this is going to make things a little more complicated, but don't worry embers, I promise I will be here for your birthday. Also, your Dad is right: we're talking a lot about Latveria at the office, and I think you will have many occasions to make new friends there."
"Thank you, Auntie!"
Sheila Hellstrom had a little smile while she stood in the kitchen's entrance, having arrived a mere minute ago. She could see the top of her husband's hair above the kitchen island and hear the voices, including the one of her sister-in-law. Satana and Daimon having a civil conversation was a rarity and Sheila knew that Willow was one of the very few people who could make them put their differences aside.
Sometimes, Sheila wondered how her life would have been if she had married some decent Jewish guy like the social environment she had been raised in expected her to. She would probably be better off financially speaking but… would she be happier? She doubted it. Sure, her life choices had cost her. Her parents had accepted her goy husband – they didn't know about the 'Son of Satan' part though – but many in their social circle didn't. The worst had been Rabbi Rosenberg – whose son she had considered dating at some point – going as far as calling her a 'daughter of Babylon'. To be fair, she suspected he knew about magic and had felt how much black magic had started to stick to her aura.
She remembered how it had all started, with a tiny little choice that triggered her fall into the dark side of the world. One evening in college, when she should have been studying, she instead listened to an acquaintance who told her it would be fun to attend some party hosted by the Church of Satan. What swayed her was when said acquaintance convinced her to see it as some kind of sociological experiment.
The problem was that those guys were only pretending to be from the Church of Satan and instead worshiped a spawn of Set called Machida. Of course, pretty, innocent girls like her had been invited with a very specific goal in mind. Daimon barely prevented her from ending up as snake food that night and other girls, including her roommate, had not been so lucky. She still had nightmares about being splattered in gore while the monster fed on the girl next to her.
Hell of a reality check, pun intended…
After that night… some of the other survivors did their best to believe that people died because of the fire that destroyed the old house. It was the official version the police reported after all. Sheila didn't. She adapted her studies, trying to use science to get at least some degree of control on the supernatural craziness that had barged into her life. She became an expert in the psychological and sociological aspects of things like myths, urban legends and conspiracy theories… at least as far as most 'normal' people were concerned. In truth, she was helping Daimon with the research side of his demon hunting activities… and joined him in the field as her experience and ability to use magical artifacts like the Shadow Cloak grew.
And I showed them all how much of a hellcat I could be if properly motivated. Daimon and I grew more and more attracted to each other and we married, she thought as she came to sit on the ground, putting their daughter between them. I found love and a fulfilling life… at a cost. I had to ritually renounce Judaism to rid myself of the blessings laid on my body before it killed Willow in my womb and my 'secondary job' put blood on my hands… but, well, going to hell is not really the same for me, right? I'm Satan's daughter-in-law after all…
"Mom?" asked Willow who had seen how thoughtful she was.
"It's all right, Willow. Hello, Satana. How are things down below?"
"Same old, same old," replied the voice on the phone. "Did Daimon already tell you about Latveria?"
Sheila looked at her husband. Like most people on the planet, she had followed the news and she knew that what just happened was a huge splash that had only barely started to ripple. She also remembered meeting Victor von Doom in Benares shortly after Willow's birth and how he helped them to twist a very nasty Hellmouth-fueled ritual into something that would save their ailing baby daughter.
"He called in that favor we owe him," she replied with a look for her husband.
"In fact, he's looking for professors for the Royal University of Latveria he's putting together. He has two postings for us."
"Willow?"
"I don't mind leaving, Mom. I don't like it here now that Xander, Barb and Jessie aren't here."
Sheila did some quick thinking. Doom knew that Daimon had a PhD in theology, courtesy of an attempt to become a catholic priest to escape his father's influence. Said attempt had crashed and burned when Satan manipulated events to bring his son to Hell, not that Daimon stayed there. While he mostly operated as a freelance occult consultant these days – a job that had the advantage of being very easy to quit in the present circumstances – he had still written a few noteworthy papers about Gnosticism, the Dead Sea Scrolls and early Christian sects recently and would have enough academic weight to be taken seriously as a professor.
As for herself, she was currently doing a postdoc at the UC Sunnydale. It wasn't exactly in her specialty, but it paid and it helped her fill her resume with things that had nothing to do with the supernatural. Leaving it wouldn't be a problem either. She knew that the faculty had received 'suggestions' to find reasons to terminate her postdoc early and she had a good idea why.
Sure, officially, the Professor Oliver Seidel had been a respectable member of the California Physics Institute who sadly committed suicide. The truth was that Sheila threw him into a wood pulper machine and watched him scream as he was shredded to death. In her opinion, he got off lightly, compared to the grad students he sent to a slow death in various hell dimensions because they had the potential to overshadow him.
Some of the people in the university's administration must have turned a blind eye to the number of disappearances among Seidel's students. Now they're applying bureaucratic pressure so that I go looking for greener pastures… well, I would hate to disappoint them. Seeing the dean's face when I tell him where I'm going will be an interesting moment. Latveria… Willow definitely needs a change of scenery and a fairy tale land where the king knows that being a demon and being evil are two separate matters might be just the place we need to raise a well-adjusted daughter.
"It's decided then. Satana?"
"Don't worry, sis. There are portals in Transylvania I can use to come see you… and Daimon, I promise I'll behave. I really don't want to piss off the first true Sorcerer-King this planet has seen for a very long while."