Doomed

Epilogue

Sparks flew, and behind the bandages and the protective cover of the metal hood, Doom's eyes burned. He was meticulous in his work, determined that every seam and weld should be perfect, lest he discard the offending hunk of metal and start again.

He lifted the hood and examined his work. Exquisite. Nearly impossible to tell that a weld had been performed at all. Except for the one small bubble where a tiny pocket of air had become trapped in the super-hot seam.

He tossed it aside, into a growing pile.

Doom knew that he could have his machines perform the work and have it be perfect. Or he could use magic to fuse the metals together without having to worry about it at all. But no. The Spider had earned Doom's personal attention, and deserved all the care involved in such planning. Doom wanted every part of this to be executed by his own hands. No one would dare say he could be defeated so soundly by such a foolish adversary.

A metallic thumping shook behind him, one that Doom did not recognize as part of the regular rhythm of his workshop. For the fourth time that day, Doom tried to stand, only to be reminded of what Spider-Man had done by his right leg giving way, forcing him to crash back into the seat unceremoniously.

"No, please, Doctor, don't get up on my account," a hollow, robotic voice came from the shadows.

"Who dares invade Doom's home?" he called.

A few more thumps. "Evidently everyone, Doctor," the voice said. Doom could tell that it was closer now.

"Who are you?" Doom asked.

"I'm a friend," the voice said. "One who has a proposition for you."

Doom turned back to his workstation. "Doom does not require assistance. Leave my presence and be thankful you still have your life."

The figure moved into the light, and Doom turned his head to see who was foolish enough to disobey him. His eyes fell upon a still body, circuitry covering the eyes and several scarred sections of a bald head. "My life is the one thing I don't have, Doctor. And it's the one thing you can help me get back."

"Why would I do such a thing?" Doom asked.

"Because I can help you facilitate your revenge against the spider," the figure said. "After all, I do have quite a bit more experience with him than you do."

Doom rose, careful of his mangled leg, and limped forward. "Doom will hear your proposition, Doctor," he said.

Had his body not been paralyzed, Otto Octavius would have smiled. "Excellent."

Author's Note: Please keep an eye out for my next stories, "Batman: Winter's Grasp" and "The Measure of a Man," the second part of this series.