Chapter 1
AC/DC’s "Hell’s Bells" was blasting through the lab, the guitar riffs a welcome distraction as Tony tinkered with his latest prototype a high-powered suit upgrade he’d been obsessing over for the last few days. The music was loud, loud enough to drown out the usual buzzing hum of his high-tech machines and the occasional whir of a welding torch. For Tony, the music was a lifeline, blocking out the noise in his head.
But then, as if the universe was determined to ruin his evening, the monitors in front of him lit up with an urgent news broadcast.
“Jarvis,” Tony muttered under his breath, but before he could even finish the sentence, his AI assistant cut the music.
“Of course, sir. Pausing the music now.” The volume of the news broadcast spiked, cutting through the room like a chainsaw through a tree.
Tony frowned. News? At this hour?
He wasn’t in the mood for another political drama or celebrity gossip. But then, the name hit him like a sucker punch.
Victor Von Doom?
The familiar voice of the news anchor rang out, though Tony barely registered the actual words. What he did catch were the phrases: "world leaders," "expertise of Von Doom," "technology and magic," and then oh, then the final blow.
"...He has shown change to his wrongdoings in the past, and he is insisting on taking the lead to help the world."
Tony froze.
It was like a bad joke. It was one of those nights where the punchline was too cruel to laugh at. This was real. This was happening. Dr.Doom the man who’d single-handedly waged war against the entire world, a man who thought of himself as a god—was now being invited to lead the charge against a cosmic threat?
The news anchor continued, but Tony wasn’t listening anymore. His brain was still replaying the headline. Doom was stepping up to help save the planet?
“Jarvis, are you sure this isn’t some kind of prank?” Tony muttered to himself, almost hoping for the answer to be “yes,” hoping it was some wild, poorly executed joke. But he already knew it wasn’t. Doom’s posture annoyed the man of Iron.
There he was looking every bit the king in his regal armor, his eyes filled with cold calculation and untold arrogance. A man who didn’t help people he controlled them. Despite him believing that he truly was some sort of savior.
Tony slammed his hand on the desk, frustrated, but trying to stay calm. This cannot be happening?!
“Jarvis, I need more intel. Now. I don’t care what it takes. Dig into Doom’s background. We’ve got to know everything he’s done every lie he’s spun, every reason he’s given for his... ''change'' to be believed by the media.
“Certainly, sir,” Jarvis responded smoothly, as usual. Tony could practically hear the AI’s amusement at his disbelief, but Jarvis kept it professional.
"Analyzing... historical data on Von Doom now. Cross-referencing with recent diplomatic efforts and world news. I will have a report ready shortly, sir."
But Tony didn’t want a report. He didn’t need one. He already knew what Doom was about. The man was a master manipulator, a tyrant. The idea of him leading the charge to save the world was laughable.
Still... He’s going to do it, isn’t he?
Tony pinched the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply. There were a million things he wanted to scream at the monitor in front of him, but instead, he simply swiveled his chair toward the monitors, watching as Doom’s body language hardened into that cold, calculated stance. His speech was measured and deliberate, the words a mix of estimated humility and feigned benevolence.
“The world faces an unprecedented threat,” Doom’s voice boomed, the kind of voice that carried the weight of years of conquest. “I do not take this lightly. But I am the only one with the necessary power to stop it. The rest of you are... amateurs."
Tony could hear the sneer in Doom’s tone. It was unmistakable. Amateurs? Was he going to pretend he was the solution to everything? Was this some sort of jab towards superheroes or mostly the Avengers? Perhaps it was towards the Fantastic 4.
Tony couldn’t help himself. “Amateurs, huh? Maybe the world’s finally figured out they need a real genius. A real man of the future,” Tony muttered under his breath, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “And, yeah, Doom’s totally the model of benevolent leadership, right? The guy who tried to take over the world for himself on multiple occasions.”
He shook his head. The fact that the entire world seemed to be putting their hopes in Victor Von Doom made Tony feel like he was losing his grip on reality. As much as Tony hated to admit it, Doom was a genius. But a genius who operated by his own rules.
Tony got to his feet and started pacing, shaking off the gnawing feeling in the pit of his stomach. The last thing he needed right now was to get distracted by some pompous dictator who thought he was the only one capable of saving the world. He could do it. He had to.
“Jarvis, prepare the Mark LXXXV,” Tony said, tapping his fingers on the edge of his desk. “I’m not letting him take the reins. Not without a fight.”
The next thing you know, Iron Man is standing in Dr.Doom’s lab, not with the expected surprise or shock of Doom’s demeanor. No, the dictator’s only response was an annoyed grunt, his eyes narrowing beneath his metal mask. He wasn’t surprised in the least. He knew exactly why Tony Stark had come. Despite the array of advanced technology, the air felt... oppressive. Doom’s presence was palpable even without him being in the room. Stark’s visor flickered briefly as he scanned the area, but his attention was fixed on the figure now slowly emerging from the shadows.
There he was Victor Von Doom his towering, imposing form covered in the full armor of his self-proclaimed “godhood.” Stark had come here for one reason: to get answers. The rumors were too wild to ignore. Cosmic threats, realities on the brink of collapse was Doom trying to save the world, or was this just another elaborate scheme to satisfy his ego and thirst for power?
But when Doom finally spoke, his voice was as cold and dismissive as the metallic walls around them.
“Stark.” Doom’s tone dripped with disdain as if even acknowledging the billionaire was beneath him. “You’ve come all this way to ask questions? How… quaint. I suppose you believe that your little technology will give you insight into matters far beyond your understanding.”
“Cut the theatrics, Doom,” Stark said, his voice steady. “I’m not here for a lecture on your so-called ‘divine’ purpose. I’ve heard the stories. You’re supposedly working on something to stop the next cosmic disaster. But the question is, why? What’s your endgame here?”
Doom didn’t react immediately, instead standing tall as if contemplating whether Stark even deserved an answer. His hand slowly adjusted the metallic cloak draped over his shoulders, the movement deliberate and almost meditative.
But then Doom just scoffed, turning away with a dismissive wave.
“Leave, Stark. You waste my time,” Doom said coldly as if Tony’s presence had already become a non-issue in his mind. “I do not have to explain my actions to someone as insignificant as you.
Make me leave.