Thirteen
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“John Storm, this is Anna. Anna, John has come from America.” Erich smiled at the raven-haired girl, slightly younger than Johnny. She was beautiful in her long lilac dress with the puffed shoulders and lace at the end of the flared sleeves.
Johnny stood back and took a long appreciative look. The girl was absolutely lovely, her face flawless; she wore no makeup, nor did she need any. Her green eyes sparkled delightfully; her lips were soft and moist. Johnny thought of Frankie Raye and her Bloomingdale’s pantsuits, expensive makeup, and Vidal Sassoon hair-styling, then stared at this peasant girl in her simple homemade dress, her naturally long hair, which draped her soft, milk-white shoulders, and the unpretentious, unhurried aura she seemed to radiate.
Anna, in her natural simplicity, was a more lovely, vivacious woman than Frankie had ever been. Johnny grinned, like a fool, he thought, and extended his hand to Anna. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Anna. Very pleased.” He stammered and Anna blushed.
She bowed timidly. “I have heard of you. You are one of the Fantastic Four, no?” Her voice was as soft and warm as her small, fragile hand. “You once battled with our Monarch?”
Johnny nodded, unsure what to say. Would she defend Doom? Was she against the metal-clad tyrant? All at once he remembered he was no longer in America, where freedom was taken for granted. He was in Latveria, where strangers were looked at askance, where there was hardly a voice raised against the mad Monarch, who ruled everyone with an iron hand.
He saw the hurt in her eyes. She was young, but she had felt the cruel hand of tragedy in her life. “That is good. Doom is a despot. I would see him dead before my own eyes are shut forever.”
The intensity of her hatred startled him. What could Doom have done to her? he wondered. Did he dare lay his hand upon her? Johnny cringed at the thought, and it made his blood boil with rage.
Erich saw the mood overcome her, and saw the confusion in Johnny’s eyes. “She was betrothed once, my friend—to one of the rebels in the underground. Doom’s robot army found them and destroyed them all. It was horrible. For days their bodies were displayed in the public square as a reminder of what Doom would do to any who dared plot against him.”
Johnny’s voice was soft. “I—I didn’t know. I’m sorry, Anna. I truly am. If there was anything I could have done . . .” He stopped. There was nothing. It was already over with.
Anna forced a weak smile. “I am pleased you are here because you may be our people’s only hope. We suffer every day, John Storm. We are thought of as cattle to be herded about as Doom’s mad army demands. We fear for our lives; we rarely voice our discontent. To do so may mean death or worse. Doom is capable of inflicting terrifying torture.”
Johnny looked confused. “I—my friends and I—came through town. People bowed to Doom reverently; they seemed joyful in their admiration. He’s brought prosperity to Latveria, raised your standard of living. I—don’t think me wrong if I say this, Anna, but I don’t understand. What has Doom done to hurt your people?”
Anna looked hurt. “He has given us food and has taken away our freedom. When Doom first took over Latveria, we were a joyous people. Then he created his robot army, his terrible machines, his network of spies. Many, if not most, of our people decided resistance was futile. They gave themselves to Doom, sold themselves into slavery for a morsel of food.
“They worship Doom because they fear him, not because they have love for the iron Monarch. They trained themselves to think Doom cares for them. Today they believe it. But there are a few who know that Doom is evil; they plot against his reign of terror. One day, they hope, they will be strong enough to fight him and, if God is on their side, to destroy him.
“John Storm, will you join with them? You and your friends have powers that could stop Doom. You are the only ones he fears. I—they—are sure you could beat him and return Latveria to its people. Will you help us?”
He gazed into her eyes and saw them fill with tears. They pleaded with him. Her soft hands took his and held them with promise.
His fingers pulled at the flesh on his face. He didn’t know how to answer. Read would never allow them to join in a battle against Doom. Doom broke no international law; he attacked no other nation. He may be a despot and a mad dictator, but there were many others, and the Fantastic Four didn’t traipse into their countries and wrest away control.
They were among the most powerful human beings on Earth, but their power didn’t give them the right to remove governments they disagreed with. Not even the United Nations had that awesome power.
He wanted to help. His every gut reaction was to say yes, but sadly he shook his head. “I can’t. You don’t understand, but my friends and I just can’t do that.”
Her voice sharpened. “You condone what Doom has done?”
“No. I hate Doom. I’ve fought him a dozen times before. I would like to see him done away with for the good of everyone. But I can’t help you. My friends can’t help. We just can’t fight every dictator who—”
“You can help, but you won’t.” Her voice was filled with venom. “I thought you were different from the others. I thought you were heroes. Instead, you are like all the others. You talk about loving peace, but you do nothing to achieve it. Good-bye, John Storm.”
She turned and stalked off, Erich was quiet, and Johnny stood silent, dumbfounded. It hurt him to see that lovely face so filled with anger and hatred.
He began to call after her but stopped himself. He stared for a moment at Erich, but said nothing.
“FLAME ON!” he shouted, and his body instantly ignited. He streaked through the sky back toward the castle.
He wanted to see Reed immediately. He needed advice.
To Be Continued...Tomorrow at
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