Stuck
Tony’s voice was steady, his tone laced with confidence.
“Make me leave,” he said, arms crossed, the suit’s repulsors dimming with calculated precision as he stood his ground.
Doom’s brow twitched beneath the mask, just the faintest indication of irritation before he let out a quiet, derisive laugh. The sound was cold and venomous as if Tony had just told an offensive joke.
“You presume you can command Doom, Stark?” Doom’s voice was a low rumble, his posture shifting slightly, the weight of his armor making the air feel heavier. “You step into my sanctum and issue demands like a spoiled child. I have no interest in games with you.”
Tony didn’t back down. “Not a game, tin-can. Just a simple request. Or is that too much for the great, all-knowing god ?”
Doom’s hands, encased in dark, gleaming metal, slowly flexed. His gaze never wavered, his eyes behind the mask glinting with cold precision. He wasn’t used to this. He wasn’t used to anyone speaking to him this way, especially not a man like Stark, who dared challenge him in his domain.
The silence between them grew thick with tension. Tony could feel the weight of Doom’s arrogance, his belief that he was untouchable. But Tony wasn’t here to bow to him.
“You think you can stop what’s coming with your tech and your ?” Doom sneered, the edges of his voice curling with contempt. ''The universe is in peril, Stark, and you… you make jokes. Petty, childish jokes.”
“Well, guess what, Doom? I’m not here to save the world like you, because we both know you’re not interested in saving anyone. You’re just trying to take control of the innocent in a moment of crisis. I can see it, clear as day.” Tony’s voice hardened. “And that? That’s not going to happen.”
Doom’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask, calculating. The man was infuriatingly confident, even in the face of all Doom's power. And that infuriated him even more.
“Leave now, Stark,” Doom said, voice low and commanding. “Before you regret it.”
Tony’s smirk grew, his hands sliding into the pockets of his suit as he took another casual step forward. “Make me.”
For a moment, Doom didn’t react. His expression remained unreadable, but there was a faint shift in his posture. Something that spoke more than words could. The room seemed to pulse with the weight of his presence as the temperature around them dropped by several degrees.
Then, without a single warning, Doom’s armored hand shot forward, a crackling wave of energy lashing out toward Tony. It was fast, precise a show of force meant to push Stark back, to remind him who controlled the situation with ease.
Tony’s repulsors flared to life instantly. The blast hit the air in front of him, a shockwave that sent Tony flying backward. But he righted himself mid-air, dodging Doom’s next blast with a burst of speed. He hovered just out of reach, fists clenched, ready for whatever came next.
“Is that it?” Tony taunted, eyes locked onto Doom’s form. “You call that a warning shot? You’re going to have to do better than that.”
Doom was quiet for a moment, his chest rising and falling behind his chest plate, before he spoke again. “I am beyond warning, Stark. You test me at your own peril.”
“Oh, I’m already well past that point,” Sarcasm came from the Avenger. “Tell me, Doom, do you always throw tantrums when someone points out you’re the villain in your own story?”
The response was swift. Another wave of energy surged toward Tony, this time aiming directly at his chest, hitting the arc reactor and getting a gasped sound out of Iron man. he was now lying on the ground trying to regain his posture.
Then... a sudden tremor in the ground. It was faint, barely noticeable—but enough to make both of them pause. The entire lab vibrated slightly, and for a brief moment, Doom’s cool composure cracked. His eyes darted toward the wall where a holographic display had just flashed to life. He muttered something in a foreign tongue, his mask hiding any further signs of surprise.
Tony’s visor flickered, picking up the seismic data. The rumble intensified.
“What the hell was that?” Tony asked, lying closer to the source of the disturbance.
Doom turned slowly, eyes narrowing as the temperature in the room dropped even further. “Something you can’t stop, Stark.”
The rumbling in the ground was no longer a distant threat it was real. The cosmic vibrations that had shaken Doom’s lab were no longer subtle. They felt as if the very fabric of reality was being pulled apart. Tony's mind raced. The thing he feared most was coming true: Doom wasn’t really trying to be a good guy.
Latveria. Doom’s lab. Tony had walked straight into a hornet’s nest and now, he was feeling the sting.
But it didn’t take long for Tony to realize: that he’d been too arrogant. Too sure of his tech, too sure of his ability to outsmart Doom. He was on the defensive now, something that didn’t happen often. His armor’s diagnostics flashed warnings, but even those couldn’t stop the sense of mounting dread. He’d gotten himself into a situation where his brilliance couldn’t save him. Not this time.
The clattering of Doom’s footsteps on the cold metal floor brought him back to the moment. The tyrant approached slowly, his booted feet deliberate, his metallic armor gleaming with the kind of self-assurance that made Tony’s stomach twist. He didn’t need to hurry. He knew Tony couldn’t escape. Not now.
Doom crouched down next to Tony, who was still struggling to catch his breath. The impact from Doom’s previous attack had left him rattled. The blood from a shallow wound on his side stained his suit. He had to focus. He couldn’t let this be the end.
Doom’s voice, low and cruel, brushed against his ear like a serpent. “You know, Stark,” he purred, “you are indeed a lot smarter than most. But you’ll never be smarter than Doom.”
Doom stood up, the movement slow and deliberate, his cape flowing with ominous grace. With a flick of his wrist, the walls around them seemed to tremble. They moved. As though willed into action by Doom’s hand, the walls twisted, distorting reality. The heavy machinery so intricately hidden was revealed in a flash. A massive, terrifying device, pulsating with strange energy. It hummed like a heartbeat, a rhythmic sound that felt like it was syncing with the very pulse of the universe.
Doom casually walked toward the device, his fingers caressing the metal as if it were his child. He pressed a glowing button on its surface, and the vibrations that had been shaking the lab grew more intense. The air grew thick, heavy. The cosmos itself seemed to buckle under the weight of whatever was happening in this forsaken lab.
For the briefest moment, Tony felt something close to fear. He was no longer in control. He was trapped in a situation where Doom’s intellect, his magic, and his power dwarfed everything Tony had. For once, Stark wasn’t the smartest man in the room.
But he was Tony Stark.
His lips curled into a defiant smirk, even as his mind searched for an escape. “Really? You think you need my brain?” His voice came out with that trademark Stark bravado. “Didn’t you just say you’re smarter than me, Doom? I think I’ll pass on the ‘help.’ Anything I come up with, you’d just copy eventually anyway.”
Doom didn’t flinch. He didn’t even seem annoyed. He simply cocked his head to the side, as if amused by Stark’s persistence. “You amuse me, Stark. But don’t confuse bravado for survival. You’ll be broken long before your stubbornness makes any difference.”
Tony was running out of time. The vibration in the air was growing. Whatever Doom had done, it was threatening to tear open something far worse than a mere fight between two men. It wasn’t just Latveria at stake. It was the entire world. Tony could feel it. The edges of reality were warping.
And Doom? Doom was the one pulling the strings.
But Tony wasn’t about to let it end here. He wasn’t going to go down like this. Not to Doom. Not today.
“Alright, Doom,” Tony said, voice low but sharp with resolve, “if you think you’re going to win by locking me up, you’re in for a world of disappointment.”
He quickly assessed his options his suit was damaged, his power levels low but Tony had faced worse. A lot worse. Sure! Here's a cleaned-up version of the sentence with better grammar and flow:
"But he wasn’t stupid enough to keep fighting a battle he couldn’t win. It was better to act defeated and get his lick back later especially since Doom wanted to keep him alive a little longer anyway."