Reading Room FANTASTIC FOUR: DOOMSDAY Part 20

Twenty
You Can Read the Previous Chapter HERE!

Johnny Storm awoke with a start. “Where am I?” he inquired. There was darkness everywhere. There was no answer. Either he was alone, or the other party wasn’t talking. Total silence. Johnny could hear only one man breathing. He was alone.

His head ached and he still felt tired. I hadda be drugged. Nothing else could explain it. Drugged and brought here, wherever here is.

He stood up and felt the walls. They were soft to his touch. Not stone, certainly. But what? Well, no use staying in the dark, he thought.

He tried to flame on. He concentrated, but he was unable to ignite. “What the hell’s going on here? Who’s doing this? C’mon, where are ya?” Doom! It has to be Doom. He’s behind all of this. He lured us here. But what do I do about it? I can’t seem to flame on.

He sat down again. There’s gotta be a way outta here. Reed had always told him to think out his plans thoroughly before deciding on a course of action. Don’t waste your power needlessly. Think. Think! THINK!

Doom has somehow canceled my powers. How? I don’t feel any different. I can eliminate the internal factors . . . He may have drugged me, but I don’t think so. My vision’s clear. Heartbeat’s normal. Something external caused this. But what? How?

The room? Possible! Air seems normal. Don’t feel any air pressure. So what did he do? With great care, Johnny Storm ran his fingers over the walls. No projections coming from anywhere. He crouched to his knees. Nothing from the baseboard.

He stood up and tried to ignite again. His finger flickered a bit, then nothing. Something in this room has got to be affecting me. But what?

Anguished, he wrung his hands together. They felt greasy. There was some coating on them. Johnny approached the dim light bulb. It glinted dully off a thin filmy substance that coated his hand.

“That’s it. It’s got to be. He’s put something on me. I’ve got to get it off.” His sharp nails scraped the palm of his hand when he heard the sound come from behind him. He whirled and saw a fan in the ceiling begin to spin. No air blew from it. Suddenly he realized; it was sucking the air up through an exhaust system. Doom was pumping the air out of the room.

“No! You can’t!” Johnny shouted, fear welling in the pit of his stomach. “Don’t do this to me! You can’t!” No use . . . Doom wanted him to die. Screaming would only make him use up his diminishing air supply that much sooner.

He fell to the floor. Gotta keep quiet. Rest. Stay low. Take it easy. He breathed slowly; he remained relaxed. But he continued to scrape clean his palm.

No use, he thought. It’ll take too long to clean this garbage off me. And by the time I do, I won’t be able to use my flame. There won’t be any oxygen left for me to burn.

Whatever I’m gonna do, I’ve gotta do it fast. In five minutes there won’t be any air left. He tore off his shirt and ripped it into small rags. They’ll absorb this greasy stuff faster than my hands could scrape it away.

With savage fervor he rubbed at his right arm and hand. He scraped away the greasy film that covered him. He concentrated; his hand flared for a moment, then faded. Not enough. Still not enough. He worked with a second rag, then a third. His face was sweating with anxiety.

He heard himself gulping for air. He staggered forward to the door, tripped, fell. He lifted himself to his feet again and fell forward, this time to the wall. Grabbing with his hands, he pulled himself along the wall as he felt his feet weaken from under him. He could barely stand up. Could barely walk. But he had to make it to the door.

He stumbled and turned, then tripped backward. The door was next to him now. He could feel the knob in his sweaty hand. Now, with all his concentration, with every fiber of his being behind him, he willed his hand to ignite. He would center all his power into one hand. If that wasn’t enough to do the job, it would all be over.

The door itself was steel, but the frame around it was something different, something plastic. It glowed under the heat, turned bright red, then blue, then white. It began to shift form, to melt, to drip.

Johnny felt the pain overwhelm him. There was so little air to begin with, and his flame was using what was left. He had less than a minute left. He fell to his knees and felt a sharp pain stab through his legs. He had to ignore it, ignore everything but the flame. Had to keep the flame glowing, had to keep burning the framework around the door.

Suddenly, he felt a cool breeze wash across his face. Johnny stared up through half-closed eyes. There was a tiny puncture in the doorframe.

The air gushed through the hole, enlarging it. Johnny grinned as the coldness whipped past him. Hungrily, he swallowed the air, let it play in his throat. Then he collapsed.

He was unconscious for only a moment. His eyes opened and he saw two vague figures before him. They sharpened into view.

“Figgers, junior. Yer always takin’ a nap. Didn’t ya get no sleep?” Ben Grimm’s voice could not be mistaken.

“You great big ape. Get me outta here.” Johnny extended a hand as Ben ripped the door off its frame. “Just tell me one thing, big fella. Where were you when I needed you?”

“Playin’ games with a bunch o’ King Arthur rejects.”

The other figure stepped into view. “Are you all right, Johnny? What happened in there?” Sue was plainly worried. “I found Ben and then we heard you groaning.”

“I guess I’m fine. Just barely. Doom tried to kill me. He almost succeeded. Hey, where’s Reed?” He was sorry he had asked almost as soon as he spoke. Sue’s chin was trembling; her eyes were liquid. “What happened to him? Tell me, damn it. Tell me!”

Ben shook his head and grumbled. “We don’t know, kid. We ain’t been able ta find ’im. We searched everywhere.”

Sue’s voice quivered with fear. “I’m scared, Johnny. I don’t know what Doom’s done to him. What if he’s—” She couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought.

Johnny was grim-faced. “Then we’ll split up and search some more. I don’t think Doom would’ve taken Reed away—not and keep us here. Search every corridor, check if doors lead to phony doors. Knowing Doom, it’s possible Reed was right before us, only we just didn’t see him. Fan out.”

“You don’t have to.” A trembling, weak voice came from behind them. They whirled and saw Reed propped against a pillar, his costume torn, his face white. He staggered forward almost out of control. Then he fell. Ben caught him in his massive arms.

“Stretcho! Wha’ happened?”

Sue pushed passed Johnny and took Reed’s hand. “Darling, talk What did Doom do to you? Please, for God’s sake, tell me. I’ve got to know.”

For several agonizingly long minutes, Reed let his breath return. He waited until he could easily open his eyes. Johnny fetched him some water. Slowly, carefully, he drank it, savoring each mouthful. “I was trapped like a rat in a maze,” he began. “Trapped, with nowhere to go, no lights to see by, and a torrent of burning acid crashing toward me.”

He saw Sue tremble. He lowered his voice to calm her. “I had taken the wrong tunnel hoping to find the maze’s exit. Somehow I had to get through the gushing torrent of acid and head for the correct corridor.

“I could hear the wave rushing toward me, but that was all I heard. I realized then that Doom had shut off the flow of acid into the maze. I also knew that the acid had by now branched off into every corridor, filling each tunnel as it passed by. I was in the farthest section of the maze, and the torrent had diminished by the time it had reached me. There was enough to flow through the tunnel, certainly enough to burn me if it hit me, but not enough to fill the tunnel from the floor to roof.”

He paused again, took another sip of water. It hurt him to talk. He still felt the pains of his escape. Ben scowled. “C’monl C’mon! This is like the end of a serial chapter. I ain’t waitin’ till next week ta find out how ya escaped. Talk, big man . . . talk!”

Reed smiled weakly. He saw the others relax. Ben’s offhanded humor always eased any situation. The big, brawny Thing had a way of seeing right through to the humor of any given problem. “All right, all right,” Reed allowed. “Just give me a moment.”

He sipped some more water, then felt the strength return to his aching bones. “I stretched toward the ceiling, and propped my arms and legs against the walls. I was a paper-thin blanket slithering over the torrent. An occasional wave washed by me. I wanted to scream, to grab my wounds, but if I did, I’d drop to my death.

“I had to press on, fight the pain, edge my way to the end of the corridor, take the other tunnel and continue across the roof until I reached the door. That’s where I faced my toughest problem. I had to somehow open the door without burning my hand. Unfortunately, the doorknob was under the current of acid. There was no way I could get to it.

“I stretched my hand toward my boot. That was the thickest part of my costume. I knew I had to take the risk; otherwise, I would eventually weaken and drop.

“With my hand inside my boot, I reached into the acid. The boot began to smoke instantly. You all know I constructed our costumes out of unstable molecules. It allows me to stretch inside my uniform, Johnny to flame on without destroying his, Sue to turn invisible and take her costume with her. Unstable molecules can do almost anything, but they still burned. I felt acid trickle in, but I kept my hand inside the boot and guided it blindly toward the knob. My fingers began to burn, but I couldn’t stop. I had no choice. The pain became terrible. I thought I would black out at any moment, but I didn’t. Sometimes I wish I had. My face was contorted; I was crying from the terrible pain. It would have been much easier to give in.

“But finally, the door opened. I stretched through, stayed on the ceiling until I was far from the maze. Then, finally, I fell to the floor, where I heard voices. I was still too dazed to realize they were yours, but I inched forward, ready to fight. Then I heard Ben speak, and I knew that voice could belong to only one man. That’s it. That’s all.”

Ben Grimm scratched his brickish chin. “Ya see, even when I ain’t around, I save lives. I’m a regular Florrie Nightingale.”

Johnny shot Ben a glance, then smiled. “You mean Daffy Duck, Ben. Both of you are quacks.”

A huge orange arm shot out, and four stubby fingers grabbed Johnny’s waist and hoisted him in the air. “Wha’d ya say, junior? Ya mind repeatin’ it so’s I can hear ya an’ respond in a manner fittin’ yer statement?”

“All right, you two, stow it. We haven’t got the time for bickering.” Reed stood up, shaky at first. “I want to find Doom, now!”

To Be Continued...Tomorrow at

Seduction of the Innocent!

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Reading Room FANTASTIC FOUR: DOOMSDAY Part 17 & 18

Seventeen
You Can Read the Previous Chapter HERE!

Doom entered his private jet and sat in a wide plush chair. He pressed a button on the control board at his side. The robot pilot was activated; the jet would now take off and he would be in America by dawn.

Tomorrow was his birthday, and all had been planned for the special gift he had promised himself. He closed his eyes as the jet shuddered to life. He would sleep now and awaken upon landing. He needed all his strength.

He dreamed. He first saw soft clouds and bright blue sky. He saw rainbows long and beautiful. He saw himself as a boy sitting at a campfire, his handsome father at his side. His father had a broad smile as he sang a ribald song. Other Gypsies laughed in response. He saw his father’s medicine bag at his side. It was always at his side in case it was needed. His father had been a great, caring man.

Then the smile faded from his father’s face as he stood up and bade Victor to follow him. The young boy did as his father commanded.

They walked through the forest to the edge of their small village. He listened as his father spoke. “Someday, Victor,” he had said, “you will be the last Von Doom. You must always remember your heritage, my son. Always remember your father loved you, that we come from a proud line of Gypsies.” Young Victor said nothing, but he listened intently.

At the edge of the forest there was a small cemetery. The markers were crude stones carved with chisel and hammer. They stood before one stone that simply said “Cynthia Von Doom.” Victor realized why he had been brought here. Today was his birthday, May 1. Every May they came to this cemetery to honor his mother.

“Your mother loved you, Victor, as much as I do. She wanted her only son to be a big, tall, handsome man—one great in pride and strength. She wanted her only son to be a good man, compassionate, merciful, loving.”

His father paused and held Victor with both hands as he stared into the young boy’s eyes. “Do you understand that, my son? Strength and compassion, pride and humility. They go hand in hand. Without one, the other is abused. Without compassion to temper strength, there is only the basest of bullies. Without humility to temper pride, there is only arrogance. Do you understand that, Victor? It is important that you do.”

Victor said yes. He understood, although he thought his father was wrong. Mother was compassionate, and the Baron’s men abused her. She had great humility, and the Baron’s men embarrassed her, slaughtered her like an animal. What good were compassion and humility to his mother? They served to have her slain by wanton cowards.

No, strength was important. It could put down those who would seek to humble me. Pride was important. It permitted others to know whom they could not push about.

But Doom simply nodded in answer to his father’s question. He was such a good man that he failed to see how important strength and pride could be. He loved his father and did not want to argue with him. Saying yes would please his father, and that is all he wanted to do just then. Later, when he was older, he would show his father the errors of his ways.

They bowed before the gravestone and said a prayer. Werner Von Doom shuddered a bit. It was no use, he knew. His son didn’t hear or didn’t believe a word he had said. He could see the bitterness set deep in Victor’s eyes. My Lord, Werner thought, so young, and so much like his dear mother.

He feared his son, feared this child’s intensity and ability to hate. Cynthia was as intense, but she didn’t hate. That was the difference. She could be loving, giving. She used her witchly powers for good, not bad. She used her spells to help fertilize their gardens, to help heal their sick, to protect them from attack. But in Victor, he sensed only the power, not the compassion. The world would one day hear about this boy. Victor would grow into manhood with terrifying powers—powers that would lead to his own destruction . . . or the destruction of his pursuers.

All this Werner saw in Victor’s deepset, brooding eyes. He grasped his son’s hand and the young boy looked up at his father. “Yes, Father? What is it?”

Werner smiled weakly. “Nothing, Victor. Let us go home. We still have to make our dinner, eh?” Right now the boy was young. But soon . . . much too soon . . .

Doom’s eyes opened as the jet began its descent. The airport had been notified that Doom the First was arriving. New York’s mayor offered a diplomatic ceremony, but the Latverian embassy said Doom preferred a simple limousine, which they would prepare for their Monarch.

He disembarked and climbed into the car. The next stop was the embassy, and from there, the Baxter Building.

Eighteen

Doom waved his hand across the electric eye, and the elevator door instantly slid open. It had been simplicity itself to duplicate the exact code necessary to open the private elevator of the Fantastic Four.

What would come next would not be simple. Doom braced himself as the elevator reached the proper floor. He was unable to learn how to properly enter his foe’s central headquarters. There would be an arsenal of weapons waiting to attack him. He breathed in deeply. Now he was ready.

The door opened to an outer lobby. Before him were two more doors. Solid steel. They would have to be blasted.

He raised his hand and a bolt of white light flashed from his fingers, bathing the doors in an eerie, unearthly glow. The door convulsed, creaked, shimmered, then dissolved into a slag of molten metal.

From inside there came a faint clicking sound. Doom was alerted. The protection devices had snapped on.

Beyond the door Doom could see the visitors’ reception room. There wouldn’t be any traps there. Too many uninitiated cretins waited in this outer lobby until one of the Fantastic Four would come to greet them. No, Richards wouldn’t allow them to come to accidental harm. The dolt was concerned with human lives; he would do nothing to endanger any man. And that is why Richards and his foolish friends would die and Doom would win. After all, nothing would come between Doom and complete victory.

With an arrogant gesture, he blasted the reception area door from its hinges and stepped inside. Daniel in the lion’s den, he thought. If his hideous mask could smile, it would.

From the floor came a sudden grinding noise. He had stepped on a large square, one of many, yet this one vibrated ever so slightly. He could discern a slight separation between this tile and the one that bordered it. All this he noticed in a fraction of a second, even as a square of plexiglass shot up from the slight separation and attached itself to the ceiling. Doom was surrounded in a plexiglass prison.

“You are a fool, Reed Richards. To think this paltry prison could long stop Victor Von Doom!” He extended his iron arm and grasped the side of the plexiglass with his fingers. “I have no need to even use my incredible powers.”

His fingers pressed outward with incredible force. His iron armor was an exo-skeleton which increased his strength a hundredfold and more. The glass cracked into a spider-web design. Then Doom smashed the prison into a thousand flying fragments with the back of his heavy glove.

“I know you, Richards!” Doom shouted, fully aware his foe was more than five thousand miles away, if he weren’t already dead by now. “You wouldn’t create devices to harm a man. Your weaponry is designed to capture, to imprison, to disarm. You are too weak to kill a fool who deserves death. That shall be your undoing.”

Doom knew the plans to the Baxter Building. The thirty-fourth floor housed the Fantastic Four’s living quarters. There were kitchen facilities, dining rooms, bathrooms, and four bedrooms. The thirty-fifth floor contained their recreation rooms, gymnasium, meditation chamber, and monitoring rooms. The thirty-sixth floor contained all of Reed Richards’s labs. Anything he had to build could be constructed there.

What Doom wanted was on the thirty-seventh floor. Above him, on the top of the Fantastic Four’s five-floor headquarters, were the vehicle maintenance shops, the hangars, and the entrance to the retractable rooftop observatory. Along the side of the headquarters was their rocket silo.

Suddenly, Doom sensed gas spreading through the hallway. Instantly the oxygen system built into his armor was activated. All airholes were covered with a thin, transparent glass.

He made his way to the elevators. These responded to a different code from the ones in the lobby. He placed his fingers along the control panel, then his armor’s computers whirled into frenzied activity. “Damn.” Doom was angry. They could only be activated by the special fingerprint patterns programmed into Richards’s computer.

He had to get upstairs. His fingers clawed the control panel a second time. A white gas spread from them. As the gas touched the metal plate, it became solid, icy. Freezing white ice spread over the panel and the elevator door, covering it completely. Doom stepped back. With every second the ice would get colder until it finally reached absolute zero. But the door would crack long before then.

Within moments the door crumbled to the ground, a useless pile of icy shards. Ignoring them, Doom entered the elevator. His fingers pressed the automatic button. The elevator would rise now.

The elevator rumbled, then ground to a sudden halt. A voice filtered over the sound system. It was Reed Richards, and it took Doom a moment to realize the voice had been taped and programmed.

“To whomever has entered the private elevator of the Fantastic Four: This is Reed Richards. You are trespassing on our property. If you have made it this far, undoubtedly you have encountered several other devices. But I warn you now, you will not penetrate our inner headquarters. I have constructed a series of elaborate protective weapons that will guarantee the sanctity of our headquarters. To go farther would be to risk your life. This has been a warning. I suggest you press the button marked ‘Exit.’ The elevator will take you to a side corridor where you will find a stairwell allowing you to leave unharmed.

“Remember, you have been warned. We are no longer responsible for what may next happen. Consider your alternatives.” The tape clicked off.

Without pausing, Doom again pressed the button marked “thirty-seven,” then dashed off the elevator. The car dropped suddenly out of view. No matter which button was pressed, the car would head for the corridor Richards had mentioned and deposit the trespasser by the staircase.

“You are clever, Richards. Too clever for your own good. But soon you shall meet defeat at the hands of Dr. Doom.”

The elevator shaft was empty now. Doom peered upward and stared into the darkness. This is the only way. I have no other choice.

His powerful hands gripped the heavy steel cables. One hand reached above the other, pulling him upward. There was little problem climbing this way, even with the incredible weight of his armor, but it annoyed Doom to have to use physical force. That was beneath him. He was pleased Richards would soon die, if he already hadn’t been burned to a final cinder.

Gas spread through the tunnel, but the mask’s glass filters were still in place. Angrily, Doom continued his climb.

From the walls, lasers snapped into view. Beams criss-crossed in all directions, bouncing off Doom’s armor. Long ago he had coated his armor with an anti-laser refracting base. Once more Richards had been checkmated.

He paused for a moment; his feet searched out a small ledge. “Damn you, Richards. Damn you for this inconvenience.” Never before had Doom had to work so. With his powers, he always took what he wanted.

As he passed the elevator door on the thirty-fifth floor, the sonic bombardment began. It cut through his armor the way a sharpened scythe slashed through a field of wheat. His head reeled back painfully, his eyes closed into thin slits, and tears poured from them.

The sharp sound rumbled through his brain, his body was in agony, his arms twitched, his legs flailed helplessly. He felt his fingers loosening their grip on the cable. He forced himself to stare downward. If he fell, there would be a thirty-five-story drop. Not even he would survive.

His fingers struggled to maintain balance as he fought to control his mind. He had to shake off the pain the sonics created. He had to close his mind to everything but his mission.

Quietly, he recited ancient prayers forgotten long before the days of the Druids. His mind reached outward and inward; he thought of his mission, his mother, his childhood, his face, his awful, disgusting face. How handsome he had once been, how proud he had been of his manly features. And now, what was it? A scarred, disfigured, pulpy mass, of twisted flesh and scabbed sores.

He remembered his mother’s diary, the curses, the visions, the oaths. He had never mastered sorcery the way his mother had. Science was his to command. He could create whatever he needed. But sorcery eluded him. He wanted that knowledge, knew it was his birthright. He had to possess complete knowledge of the Dark Arts; otherwise, his destiny could never be fulfilled.

He wanted power, the power to destroy all his enemies, the power to rule a world, the power to rule the universe itself. But to do so he needed control over the evil ones, the dark forces, the creatures of hell. He needed to blend his mysticism with his science. No one could defeat him then. No man would dare try.

He heard his breath hissing through his mask; he heard his metal feet clanging against the steel-lined corridor. Then he realized the sonic blast which attacked him had abated. It was over.

Quickly, without pause, he climbed the cables. He thought of nothing but reaching the thirty-seventh floor. Hand over hand, his feet hooked the cables and pushed him upward. It was only a matter of moments now. He could see the elevator door above him, a shining beacon indicating freedom. It drew closer, became larger. Then, at last, it was beside him. He blasted the door off its hinges and he leaped to safety.

He made it. He had conquered death once more. Invigorated with renewed pride, he shouted to the world at the top of his voice, “I am victorious! I have won! I am Victor Von Doom. Let the world beware my awesome power!”

And now, he thought, he need only find what he had come here for.

“Soon, very soon, the Negative Zone will be mine!”

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Seduction of the Innocent!

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Reading Room FANTASTIC FOUR: DOOMSDAY Part 13

Thirteen
You Can Read the Previous Chapter HERE!

“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.

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Reading Room FANTASTIC FOUR: DOOMSDAY Part 11

 
Eleven

You Can Read the Previous Chapter HERE!

“This is my laboratory.” Doom gestured with great pride at the massive stone room lined on all four sides with complex computers, workbenches, strangely shaped devices, vials, chemicals, papers, instruments created for purposes few men could even guess, mechanized workers hunched over ion-powered microscopes, and assorted other creations.

“In the past year alone, I have perfected wonders that will revolutionize mankind . . . fertilizers that will grow crops five times their normal size. With my wonder serums, I will eliminate hunger and disease. Give me five years and I will cure cancer. Ten more and heart attacks will be something of the past.”

Reed Richards examined a strange circular device sitting on a worktable. “I’ve never seen anything like this before, Doom. It seems to be an element converter for transmutation, but—”

“Excellent, Richards. I see you were able to analyze my device properly. You are right, of course. I am experimenting in elementary transmutation. So far success has been limited.” Doom paused, as if an idea had struck him. “If you wish to join in my research, Richards, I am sure the equations I have been unable to work out will soon be answered. Are you interested?”

Reed smiled. “I’m sorry, Doom, but my research is taking me in other directions. I can’t afford to take time away from my own discoveries.”

“Of course, I understand, Richards. So be it. A shame, though. You and I are the two most brilliant minds this world has ever known. To work together would be an assurance of success. I understand you have your . . . pride, however.” Doom paused before continuing. “Let us move on, if you don’t mind. However, you may feel free to linger. My laboratory and my notes are open to you.”

Ben grumbled. “I don’t like this, Stretcho. He’s playin’ ya fer the fool. What’s ’is game?”

“I wish I knew, Ben. I’ve never seen Doom like this. He’s open, polite, courteous beyond expectation. Unless he’s actually changed, he must be supremely confident in himself. There’s no other explanation.”

“Frankly, Reed, I’m not at all interested in this stuff. You think Doom’ll mind if I scoot around town as the Torch? See if anything’s going on? Maybe I’ll find a girl.” Johnny was bored; he wanted to move on.

“Reed, I have an idea,” Sue said. “If Doom’s willing to show us his castle, then whatever he has planned can’t be here. What if I became invisible and scouted around some? Check things out in a way that wouldn’t anger him.”

Reed nodded. “Good thought. Just be careful, Sue. Stay alert. I know something’s dreadfully wrong, and I don’t want you to fall into any of his traps.”

Sue grinned as she whispered. “How can he set a trap for an Invisible Girl? Besides, if anything happens, I have my energy powers. And I won’t forget my belt radio.

“Face it, Reed, I can handle myself, even if I am just a girl, eh?”

Reed grimaced in reply. “All right, so I’m the last of the chauvinist pigs. I can’t help myself, honey. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Sue bent over to kiss him on the cheek. “Worry about yourself, brown-eyes. I’m not exactly a sitting duck.”

Sue’s eyes closed as she concentrated, and a moment later her body faded from view. “I’ll be back as soon as I can, Reed.” Her voice faded as she left the room.

“Don’t worry it, Stretch, Susie can handle herself. She’s got powers that make us look like Howdy Doody.”

Reed knew Ben was right, but he still didn’t like it. True, Sue could turn herself invisible, or turn anything else invisible if she wished to—although when she did, she couldn’t use her powers on herself. Sue also possessed the ability of forming energy shields, and through practice she learned to shape the energy powers into convenient forms. She could focus her powers with pinpoint precision, or spread them wide enough to shield them all.

There was little Sue Richards was incapable of doing; she had mastered her powers long ago, yet she was Reed’s wife, the woman he loved more than anyone else. If she was hurt in battle, if she were to die, it would be his fault. Because of him she had been given her abilities, and he felt responsible for whatever happened to her now.

Sue quietly approached a sealed door and analyzed the lock. It was bolted from within, but it wouldn’t be hard to pick, not if she could slip her force field through the controls and slide the trip-lock to the right.

No one was around; no one would see her. She’d have only a few moments before someone might come strutting down the corridor. She had to work quickly. Materializing, she concentrated her energy powers at the lock. An invisible beam of pure force snaked through the delicate instrument. Then a faint click was heard. She’d done it.

Smiling, she faded from view again and opened the door, shutting it quickly behind her. She was safe, but she’d best remain invisible. With Dr. Doom, you could never be too sure.

The room seemed to be empty: no furniture, no lights. Nothing. Yet, why was it bolted?

Quietly, she rapped on the wall closest to her. Solid. She tapped the second wall across from her. The same. But the third wall echoed with a dull thumping sound. Hollow. A secret panel?

Delicate fingers spread across the wall. If there was a secret door somewhere, she’d find it.

Her hand touched the molding that bordered the room at waist level. One small section slipped as she brushed by it, and the wall seemed to suddenly shudder.

A black line appeared at one corner. The wall was opening inward at that point. Holding her breath, she ran toward the black space. She entered the opening, and waited for her eyes to become accustomed to the darkness.

Staircase leading to where? She reached out and grabbed a narrow metal railing. Nice of Doom to think of this, she thought. Easier to climb these steps in the darkness.

The wall slid back into place as she reached the bottom of the stairwell and stepped onto a stone floor. Must be spring-controlled. When my weight left the staircase, it closed.

There was complete darkness here, and she used her hands to probe the way. The stone corridor was chilly, damp. She could smell the musk and it nauseated her. This could really be nothing. Old castles always have secret corridors.

There was a squeal behind her, and, somewhat frightened, she whirled around. Something small and hairy brushed past her. Lord, it must’ve been a rat. Oh, God.

It took a moment for her breath to return. I may be torturing myself here for no reason. She felt the breeze come from her right. Must be a tunnel. She turned and saw a faint glimmer of light ahead of her. Well, can’t turn back now. C’mon, Sue, let’s go on.

She reached a large cavern with a small table in the center. A candle resting in a cup sat on the table. A chair tucked neatly between the table legs seemed a good place to rest, if only for a moment. Someone was here, just a few moments ago. There’s no melted wax in the cup.

She called out, “Anyone here?” No answer. Her eyes adjusted to the faint glow and she could see the corridor she had come through. It continued on past the cavern on the other side. Whoever it was had to go that way. She scratched her neck, pushed the hair out of her eyes, and stood up again. May as well go on.

Suddenly there was the scraping sound of steel. A heavy door slid down from the roof of the cavern and sealed off one of the tunnels. She turned toward the other. It was still open. She ran toward it, fear beginning to take hold of her. A second steel door descended.

A bolt of energy shot out from Sue’s temples as she rushed forward. It formed a cushion between the floor and the lowering door. The door jammed into the force cushion with a loud crackling noise. It held. Have to expand the shield. Force open the door. This is a trap. I’ve got to warn the others.

She felt herself grow heavy, tired. Her eyes searched out the candle on the table. Oh, my God . . . of course. It’s burning a sleep gas. That candle was set there to stop me.

Instinctively, she threw a force globe around the candle, and the buffer beneath the door faded from view. The door slammed down, and the echo of steel against stone seemed like sarcastic laughter.

Her hands groped for her belt radio. Damn it, static. I’m too far underground. Either that or Doom had this tunnel especially created to prevent radio waves from piercing it.

She was breathing hard now. What do I do? Invisibility won’t help here. If I remove my force shield from the candle, the gas will put me to sleep. My powers are useless.

She felt utterly defeated and sank to the chair. Reed warned me, but like a proud fool, I didn’t listen.

Then, from the ceiling, she saw the glint of steel. Small openings appeared in the rock. Five tiny openings that began to glow red.

A thin beam of light streamed from one opening. It flashed across the chasm and bounced off the floor, ricocheted off the stone wall, and continued its zig-zag pattern. A second beam from a second opening followed it. Then a third, a fourth, and finally the fifth.

Lasers!

Heaven help me, lasers everywhere—Sue dived off the chair a moment before a ruby beam splintered it. Instantly, the chair disintegrated. A second beam hit the table and bounced off. It must be coated with something. She saw the candle still lit atop it. Of course, Doom doesn’t want the candle snuffed out.

The beams criss-crossed the room in a random, helter-skelter pattern. One of them would strike her at any moment—unless she surrounded herself in a force field.

An invisible ball of energy formed about her as a laser blast struck the shield and skidded off into the wall. Safe, but for how long? I can’t keep the shield in place for more than fifteen minutes. Then what?

Sue Richards had a reason to worry. She had a quarter of an hour to effect an escape, or she would be sliced to so many ribbons.

What do I do? What the hell do I do?

To Be Continued...Tomorrow at

Seduction of the Innocent!

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Reading Room: FANTASTIC FOUR: DOOMSDAY Part 8

Eight

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From the street he looked like a comet streaking across the night skies. Red and blue flames seared the heavens as Johnny Storm headed up to Westchester for his date.

Up here in the sky, ablaze as the Human Torch, he felt free and at home. Nothing could stop him now; not even the sky was his limit.

He arced over the tall buildings of the East Bronx and saw the people far below, pointing up at him in shock and disbelief. Look up, down there, he wanted to shout out. I’m the Human Torch! THE HUMAN TORCH!

Let’s give ’em a show, he thought. A show only the Human Torch could create.

From his flaming fingertips came a ball of fire which shot rocket-like into the air above him, then burst into streamers of flame which cascaded downward, then evaporated before hitting the streets below. A second fireball erupted, then a third and a fourth. Now for the coup de grâce: with both hands wide, he circled downwards toward the ground, streams of flame licking the skies behind him. He abruptly turned and headed upward, curved at places, letting the flames streak longer behind him as he flew. In a moment he was done, and the flaming words “HAVE A GOOD DAY” lit up the night sky for miles in every direction. That’s something they won’t soon forget.

Frankie Raye’s house was a white split-level with amber-colored shutters, a wide garden, and a two-car garage. Garbage cans dotted the streets; the sanitation department would be out in force tomorrow.

The Torch landed, extinguishing his flames even as his feet touched pavement. He carried an asbestos bag across his back and removed a suit Reed had sprayed with unstable molecules. Even bunched up as it had been, it wouldn’t show a crease. He’d be able to knock on Frankie’s door tailored as impeccably as if he had arrived there in a limousine rather than flying comet-like through the skies.

Frankie and Johnny were lovers. The song danced through his head as Frankie Raye opened the door. She wore a paisley dress with short sleeves which were bordered with white lace, and off-green shoes which matched her purse. A green ribbon was tied through her blonde hair, and her straight white teeth flashed an irresistible smile. “You’re right on time, Johnny.” Her voice was warm, soft. “Where’s your car?”

Johnny bit his lip. “It’s in the garage, Frankie. I was hoping we could use yours. Or, better yet, how about staying in? I’ll order us food to be delivered.”

The smile faded from the girl’s face. “You flew here as the Torch?” She waited for Johnny to nod yes. “Johnny, you know . . . you’ve got to know how I feel about that. I—I dated you months before I learned who you were. I really like you, Johnny, perhaps more than I’ve ever liked anyone else. But, God . . . I can’t take your being a super-hero. I hate it when you’re called away in the middle of a dinner to fight some ridiculous crime the police should be taking care of in the first place.

“Why do you do it, Johnny? Why can’t you be normal, a real person, like everyone else? Why, Johnny? Why?”

She paced the living room before sitting on the plump white couch. Johnny wasn’t sure how to reply. “I didn’t ask to become what I am, Frankie. You know that as well as I do. It was an accident, a cosmic joke that I’ve become the butt of.”

He saw Frankie was on the verge of tears. He wanted to hold her in his arms, to make her worries go away. Why did she fear him? What was there about Johnny Storm that made her cringe every time she thought of his being the Human Torch?

He sat beside her, took her arms, and held them with his hands. “Frankie, I love you. I’ve told you that before. I think you’re wrong, though. Yes, maybe I risk my life, but there are others who do that with less assurance of surviving than I do. Policemen take risks every day. Firemen march into blazes that could consume them at any moment. None of them have any special powers, yet they still go out and risk their lives day after day.

“Damn it, Frankie. Tell me what’s bothering you. Don’t hold it in. I have to know if this relationship is going to grow and get better. You’ve got to tell me what is coming between us. What’s driving us. apart?”

Tears rolled down her beautiful face and she took some Kleenex from her pocketbook to wipe them dry. She got up and walked into the kitchen where she took a pitcher of cold water from the refrigerator and poured some into a glass. “It’s everything, Johnny. You’re risking your life, you being who you are: a hero, the center of attention. It’s all that, and it isn’t that, and it’s a lot I can’t possibly explain, and maybe something I don’t even understand myself.”

She paused as she drank the water in a long, continuous gulp. Then she turned from the kitchen and saw Johnny standing in the doorway. “Maybe some people aren’t cut out to date super-heroes? Maybe I’m one of those people. And maybe, Johnny, maybe it’s best if we don’t see each other—at least not for a while. Do you understand?”

“Frankly, no, I don’t. Either you care about me, or you don’t. Either you love me with or without my faults, or you don’t.” He stepped toward the outside door and put his hand on the knob. “I don’t understand you, Frankie. I thought we had something going between us.”

He opened the door and walked into the cold, fresh night. The wind blew his blond hair wild. Frankie Raye stood in the doorway and watched him. “I guess I was wrong about you, Frankie. Damned shame, too. I really loved you.”

Without stripping off his suit, he yelled out “FLAME ON!” His body suddenly ignited and he took to the skies, once more a comet streaking heavenward. Frankie Raye watched until he disappeared from view, then closed the door behind her and slowly walked to the couch. She fell on it and cried, long into the night.

“I love you, too, Johnny. Damn, I love you, and I can’t ever be yours, because I’m scared . . . because I don’t want a hero in my life, because I want a normal home with normal children, a normal life, and you just don’t fit in, Johnny Storm.

“You’re something special, and you can never be normal. You can never walk among people without having them stare at you. Even when you’re not the Human Torch, even when you’re Johnny Storm, you’re special.

“Oh, God, Johnny, I want you so much it hurts. I want you, but I can’t have you. I . . . I just can’t.”

Blast. Damn and double damn! What’s wrong with me? Why can’t I hold on to anybody? What am I doing wrong? Will somebody please tell me? Those were Johnny Storm’s thoughts as he flew southward over the Bronx toward Manhattan.

Reed has Sue; even Ben, monster that he is, he has Alicia. And what’ve I got? Nothing. Myself! Zero! Zilch! I lost Dorrie Evans. I lost Crystal. I’ve lost every girl I’ve ever loved. Now, Frankie. Blast!

His flame shimmered red and blue as it cut a swath across the skies. He felt alone, impotent, miserable. He was twenty years old, a member of the Fantastic Four, the premier super-hero organization of its kind. He had traveled throughout the world and to other worlds. There was little he had never seen, less he had never done, yet the blond-haired youth was not satisfied.

He was alone in a world where two was the most important number. Couples. Pairs. Man and woman. Husband and wife. And he was a one . . . a damned one.

It wasn’t his super powers that separated him from everyone else. Reed and Sue had powers certainly equal to his own. They found love and marriage and happiness together. He knew there were other heroes: Spider-Man, Iron Man, Captain America. Surely they didn’t suffer as he did. They couldn’t be as alone as he was.

His sister raised him as a child; she watched him grow. He was bright, though teachers had always said he never applied himself as he should. He went to college, then dropped out after his first year. What could they teach him? He had been everywhere, he thought, or perhaps he rationalized.

He was good with machines. He could take apart a car and reassemble it better than it had originally been. There was nothing about motors he didn’t know. He had talent, he was handsome, he was a hero.

So why couldn’t he get a girl? Why didn’t women return the love he felt? Why was he always alone?

His mind buzzed with questions and felt helpless when no answers became clear. What good was being a super-hero if his life was all screwed up?

He streaked across the skies, heading toward the Baxter Building. Maybe Frankie wasn’t feeling well. I’ll give her a call tomorrow.

When the belt radio buzzed and Reed Richards’s voice spoke, he didn’t know he wouldn’t speak to Frankie Raye tomorrow. He didn’t know he might never speak to Frankie Raye again.

He didn’t know that by tomorrow night, there was a very good chance he would be dead.

To Be Continued...Tomorrow at

Seduction of the Innocent!

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Reading Room: FANTASTIC FOUR: DOOMSDAY Part 6

Six
You Can Read the Previous Chapter HERE!

“Reed Richards! My God, it’s been years. How are you, lad?” Dean Collins had a broad smile as he shook Reed’s hand. “You’re our most famous alumnus, Reed. You don’t know how pleased I am you came.”

Reed smiled, happy to see the older man. Dean Collins had been his mentor throughout his four years at E.S.U. “I’m glad I could make it. You know my wife Sue, of course.”

Sue Richards nodded at the retired Dean. “I’m happy to finally meet you, Mr. Collins. Reed has told me so much about you that I feel I know you personally.”

Dean Collins took her hand and kissed it. “And you’re even lovelier than your photographs picture you to be, my dear. Come, let me introduce you to some of the others.”

Dean Collins led her into the large crowd of people milling about the bar. Reed smiled. Retirement hasn’t aged him one bit. Good for him.

The room was a converted gymnasium, with the bleacher seats rolled back, decorations hung, and tables hastily set up with food and drink. A portable bar was manned by professional bartenders who carefully poured drinks for the joyous crowd. Reed estimated more than three thousand schoolmates jammed the large gym.

Ben Grimm stiffly picked at his collar. “Sheesh, Collins didn’t even give a hello. Ya think he didn’t recognize me, Stretcho? Ya don’t think I changed that much since college, eh?” Reed suppressed a growing smile.

“Dean Collins and I worked together for several years, Ben. He got me my first job with the Science Institute. You were here on an athletic scholarship.”

“Sure, sure. He just didn’t realize who I was, right? I mean, ya seen one orange-skinned monster an’ they all get ta look alike, don’t they? Sheesh.

“Alicia, ya want me ta get ya a drink?” Alicia smiled sweetly. “Yer regular, babe?”

Ben plodded over to the bar, where several of his old classmates toasted one another. One of the women saw him first and gasped. “Oh, God, what is he? Look at him! He’s a . . .” She couldn’t say “monster” as Ben stared into her eyes.

“I’m the school nurse, blondie. Ya wanna make somethin’ of it?” His coarse voice thundered in the woman’s ears. Frightened, she backed away from him and clutched her husband’s arm.

The man gulped in horror. He had to say something. He had to protect his wife from the . . . the thing that stood no less than three feet from him. “Wh-why did you scare Madeline like that? She didn’t do anything to you.” His knees wobbled in fear. What would the creature do?

Ben turned to the bartender and ordered two vodka gimlets, then returned to see the small man quaking before him. “Lemme see, here, I was just orderin’ a couple o’ drinks, an’ yer old lady called me a monster. The way I see it, she’s the one who scared me. Ya gotta understand, shortie, ta me, yer the monsters.”

The man backed off a foot and tried to shake off his fear. “P-please apologize to my wife. Look at her.” He puffed out his chest, regaining his lost courage.

Ben stepped closer to the man and stuck out a finger. It hooked the man under his collar, and effortlessly, Ben lifted him off his feet. “Tell ya what, baldie, how’s about we both ferget this before ya make me real angry an’ ya force me ta ferget this is supposed ta be a party. Understand?”

The room was silent now, all eyes turned toward Ben and his frightened adversary. Would there be a fight, even though everyone knew it would only last a fraction of a second?

Alicia spoke up. “Excuse me, Ben, I thought you were getting me a drink.” Ben nodded sheepishly. It had been years since he had become the Thing. By now he should have been accustomed to the horrific stares his presence elicited.

“I was doin’ just that, babe—then baldie, here, hadda go cause some trouble. Ya know me. I hate trouble.” Ben ambled over to the bench where five rather heavyset men sat. “Don’t get up,” Ben said as he lifted the bench and the men with one hand.

“Ya know how I just shrivel up when trouble comes my way, babe. Anyway, he was just gonna apologize an’ then we wuz all gonna go back ta havin’ fun.” Ben gently put the bench back in place. “Weren’t ya, shortie?”

The man nodded. “I’m sorry. I won’t bother you again. I promise.” He looked back at his wife, glaring at him. Madeline would have to understand. He didn’t want to find himself dismembered. Not this evening.

Ben smiled. “I knew ya’d see things my way, guy. Tell ya what, the drinks’re on me. Awright?”

The man shook his head. “I’m giving up drinking. I don’t want to touch this stuff again. In fact, I don’t feel very well. I’ve got to go. C’mon, Madeline. We’ve got to go.” He tugged at his wife’s arm.

“But, Gregory, I—”

“We’ve got to go, dear. We’re selling the house tonight and moving to another state . . . maybe another country. Uh, good-bye. Nice meeting you all. Madeline . . . c’mon. Now!”

They left Madeline confused. Then Ben turned toward the crowd. “I said the drinks were on me—at least the first dozen. C’mon.”

Within moments, the joyous drone returned to the gymnasium. The band began its stirring rendition of “How Much Is That Doggie in the Window?” And voices could be heard everywhere. The minor distraction was all but forgotten.

For one hour, the party continued, couples danced, old acquaintances were renewed, business cards were exchanged, and phone numbers were traded along with mutual promises of getting together soon.

Old flames came upon each other, men meeting women they had loved and left, women introducing their current husbands to old boyfriends. Embarrassing stories were dredged up; school songs thought to be forgotten were remembered and sung out of tune.

It was ten-thirty when Reed noted a commotion at the gymnasium door. There were crowds of men and women streaming to the door. “Something’s happening, Sue,” Reed said. “I’ve got to see what’s going on.”

Sue held him back. “It’s probably nothing, darling. Or maybe Ben’s getting into another ruckus. C’mon, introduce me to that stunning redhead who’s been giving you the eye all evening.”

Reed shot Sue a strange stare. “What redhead? I didn’t see anyone.”

Sue smiled cunningly. “I bet you didn’t. Confess, husband, was she an old girl friend you don’t want me to know about? I’m not letting you off the hook so easily.”

The commotion at the door continued. Then there was a hushed silence as Reed could hear Dean Collins’s voice coming from the crowd. “I—I don’t think you should come in here. You’re not—” Collins’s voice stopped abruptly.

It was replaced by another voice, a cold voice, one devoid of any emotion. It sounded harsh to the ear, rasping, as if it were mechanically filtered. “I was a student here, Collins. I demand entrance, and I will not be denied.”

Reed recognized the voice instantly. He had heard it many times in the past, and each time it filled him with dread.

He stretched his neck to the gymnasium roof to peer above the crowd. It was him. His worst fear had been realized. Of all of Empire State University’s students, he was not expected to show his presence here. Certainly not without fanfare. Indeed, Reed had not even known he was in the country.

The crowd parted, and the tall man entered. Then Sue let out a stunned gasp.

Majestically, powerfully, he stepped inside the gymnasium, knowing all eyes were now upon him, as well they should be.

The large hall seemed to shrink with the sudden and unexpected appearance of Empire State University’s most infamous student . . . DOCTOR DOOM—MONARCH OF LATVERIA!

To Be Continued...Tomorrow at
Seduction of the Innocent!
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