The Stark Legacy

Signal

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE— Late December, 2039

Victor Von Doom let the heavy velvet curtain drop to block the weak sun and barren trees outside, frustration clear on his face until he hid it with his metal mask. Time for a poker face, an inscrutable visage of power, a way to keep his true feelings from Annihilus.

A small crash sounded from across the room.

"Imbeciles," he snapped at the twin lackeys shifting around the comms device.

Doom's kingdom was a miserable place in the winter, but it was much worse while surrounded by incompetence. The idiot on his right kicked a broken stool leg to the side, trying a different table. Latveria suffered in disrepair for decades before Victor seized power and capitalized on allegiances too tenuous for the rest of the world. The aging furnishings of his castle reminded him of how far his country had left to go.

No matter how many unsafe inventors and questionable investors he brought in, Latveria deserved better. It deserved the best. He deserved the best.

And he would get it, everything he ever wanted, if these two would just pay attention!

"The creature will want to know why his ships are floating around our outer belt like dust in the wind and you two—" Doom zapped Left's hip and Right's shoulder with a surge of electricity, apologies skittering across their identical lips "—can't figure out how to—"

The projection flickered into the wide, larger-than-life figure of Blastaar's lion head. The general grunted and stepped aside.

Victor opened his arms wide. "Annihilus! Finally, we see you—"

The sound of hissing clipped a brutal tone through the speakers.

"Right. That's understandable." He let the screeching continue for a moment, thankful his pained face was covered. "Slight setback. But if you hear me out, we have a bit of an opportunity here."

The response startled him.

"What weapon did this, Doom?" Annihilus's deep, resonant tone rang with an echo from inside his exoskeleton.

"Ah, I see the collar is fixed." He waved for one of the lackeys to hand him the control for the projection. "Not a weapon so much as an overly ambitious runt of girl who—"

"Control your world or I will."

The grating of the creature's voice sent a shiver down Doom's metal spine. "This—" news coverage of Samantha Stark filled the screen "—is the one who destroyed your ships but—we have a two birds, one stone situation—because she is also currently distracting all the other nuisances who held up progress on your arsenal." Doom expected pushback. He expected to argue the whole, incidental existence of the girl. He expected an order to wipe her away, but when the sound of static hummed, he minimized the footage to find Blastaar and Annihilus huddled in whispers.

In a language Doom did not understand, Blastaar barked a command behind him. At least six soldiers sprang into action. Now why couldn't he find help like that?

The creature returned closer to the screen, starting slowly.

"That—" a thin leathery digit extended towards the projection "—is the Lost Daughter of Thanos."

"Well, no, it's actually that annoying Iron—"

Another hiss stopped Doom. A small, acid-green-haired, blue-skinned troll thing raced to hand Annihilus a long vial. Victor's interest piqued when the vial was inserted into the creature's projector. Apparently, that was their form of flash drive. His idiots would break those too easily.