4 | Promises
Act 1
Chapter 4
Promises
- - -
Doomstadt Castle
Victor stares down at the mystic circles and polygonal shapes that he had just drawn onto the stone floor of his late mother’s chamber which has been kept tidy on regular. With runes carved into the walls and baubles decorating the room, this is the best place he knows of to perform magic.
In fact, in the whole country, he knows of nowhere else that possesses the same intensity of arcane energy as this small quarter of nostalgia and fleeting memories.
Magic…
Something he’d never thought about since Franklin Storm had harshly demonstrated how much he detest it in his scientific-dominant worldview.
He’d been berated for trying to connect with his mother through them…No, not berated.
Beaten.
The phantom pain returns whenever he even thinks of reciting a simple incantation.
Clenching his fists tightly, Victor took a deep breath before concentrating his mind, taking a step into the center of the circle before sitting down with a straight back.
Control the breathing, clearing the mind.
Control the breathing, clearing the mind.
Control the breathing, clearing the mind…
Victor’s consciousness falls into a state of serenity. The energy flow around him manifests in his mind, outlining the room with glowing veins. Behind his eyes, he sees them flow around like snakes interacting with solid objects in their paths, shaping the reality visible only to the eyes of the flesh.
Spreading his arms to the sides, Victor calls upon the energy circulating the room into himself, charging up like a battery. With sufficient energy stored within himself, Victor starts conjuring spells with hand signs and gestures, drawing sparks into thin air, shaping the fabric of reality like a canvas.
House of Morpheus. This will do. He mentally acclaimed and finished the fractal symbol with his glowing emerald sparks.
He sinks deeper and deeper into the realm of the minds, searching for a spark of familiarity that exists within his castle, and zeroes in on that flickering ember. His immaterial hands reached into the crack and grasped its jagged edges firmly before prying it open to allow himself into the mindscape of Susan Storm.
He enters a quaint and sunlit living room, rows of trophies and framed pictures line the mantle of the hearth, decorated to be worthy of a noble’s household. Sir Franklin Storm stares back at him with an unpleasant smile while his hands cradle a little tyke so…distantly as if he’d never wanted it.
His eyes flit through the remaining frames that were retelling a loveless childhood the tyke had lived through until she had grown into the face he can somewhat recognize; the sad eyes of Susan Storm stared blankly at the camera, standing at her father’s side as the man show genuine joy for the first time at another babe cradled in his arms. Mary Storm, forever an elitist in posture, proudly looked at her little family with a cold smile.
Then, he noticed a presence veiled behind an unusual barrier, emanating curiosity and caution. His sharp eyes search the room until they land on a curled-up teenage girl with blonde hair pressing herself into a dark corner, the residue light in the room reflects on her piercing Sapphire orbs so brightly in the shadows. Victor sighed a relief sound, “Hello, Susan.”
- - -
Xavier’s Institute for Gifted Youngsters
Jean opened her eyes with a gasp, a smile lightly gracing her lips as she detected a slight spark that she was looking for, but it was like witnessing a riptide in the sea of crashing waves. She called up the terminal and quickly browsed through the recent logs of her telepathic scan hooked with the satellite networks that can also pinpoint the origin of the highlighted mind; that’s how the Professor and Magneto used to seek out potential mutants in the early days of the Institute; herself included.
“46.436396, 20.127001. But, the ping was too weak to be considered as an exact point of origin,” Jean muttered with a frown, letting out a sharp huff of air before cataloging the first spot onto the map with the intent of triangulation.
She quickly returned to meld her mind with the Cerebro’s arrays and spread her consciousness again with a sparking hope.
- - -
Statue of Liberty
Johnny had been hanging around here since Julia practically called him the worst human being in her anger.
Looking down at his hands, shaking, he couldn’t hold back the tears sizzling away from the intense heat produced by his body in a state of heightened emotional turmoil.
“Johnny, what are you doing?” His sister, poor Susan, asked in confusion as he had been dragging her by the wrist for the past half an hour into the midst of midnight, away from the mansion and into the unknown. “Answer me, please?”
“We are leaving, Sue.” He simply answered her without looking back, “And I’m taking you with me.”
“But Mother would—”
“Screw the hag!” he roared quietly against her, stuttering his sister’s steps a little “I refuse to let that woman bid you off like a prized pony.” He stopped as he felt Susan’s struggle lessen a bit, turning his fiery eyes to glare into her with the honesty he always harbored for her, the only one she had ever experienced in the viper’s den that they called home. “I’ve kept my silence and watched her treat you like an unfeeling doll for far too long, Susan.” His voice quivered a little, recalling the years that he had witnessed his sister’s smile fade into the background. “I’m sorry for being a horrible brother, but I promise with the remaining breath within me that I will not let you down ever again.”
The silence stretched before he felt Susan’s cold hand resting on the side of his face and he leaned into it as if seeking warmth. Then, the sight he’d never thought would grace the world again was seared into his eyes by the fading moonlight.
His sister smiled tearily, without a hint of sadness behind them. Her piercing blue eyes glazed over with welling tears, and a tiny chuckle escaped its suppressive prison.
“Bloody hell…” he muttered and absorbed the heat back into himself before laying on his back with a heavy sigh, covering his eyes with his arm.
- - -
On the way back from Philadelphia
Kate looked with worried eyes at her quiet boyfriend next to her seat on Bishop Security’s chopper, whereas the Tennessean decided to stay with the Rhodes and the Starks for a while longer, leaving the two of them alone. To be honest, Michelle Jone’s sudden change in behavior towards him might contributed heavily to the reluctance.
She pressed the button to enter a private channel linked to his earphones before speaking while her hand reached over to cover his fidgeting one “You okay?”
“Yeah.” He smiled forcefully into her eyes and flipped his hand to lace their fingers together. Peter let out a soft chuckle before turning his sight to the scenery beyond the cargo after the glare he received.
“I saw you did it enough times to recognize the signs, Pete,” Kate replied with a sad smile, tightening her hold of his slightly bigger hand, then resting her head on his shoulder, she let out a hum “Wanna talk?”
“…I fucked up with MJ,” Peter finally relented with a slouch on his shoulders, resting his jaw against the top of Hawkeye’s head, breathing in the lavender scent clinging to her skin and hair “It’s a miracle she didn’t kick me in the nuts.”
“Totally believable,” Kate indulged in his attempt to lighten up the intensity around them “…You never told me what happened.” She raises their joined hands and caresses his skin softly “I wasn’t a nosy girlfriend…”
“But…?” he teased a little, whispering against her scalp.
“To leave you brooding like this?” Kate emphasized with an index finger poking playfully at his face “That’s a tea I want a sip of.”
“Ugh! Women!” he playfully retorted with a snort, and he could tell that the raven-haired beauty just rolled her eyes in response. “…We were supposed to go to MIT together, before the Incursion…before May…” he swallowed that lump in his throat, yet the sadness usually accompanied the resurfacing memories of May Parker was doused by the doubts and distrust. “After the Curse, I couldn’t go to Boston on my last twenty dollars…but I should have at least kept my promise. Instead, I ghosted her.”
“Oh…” Kate retreated a bit, but her hand was still laced with his. “That’s…yeah. That was a dick move.”
“Tell me about it…” Peter sighed and closed his eyes, leaning the side of his head against the window, wanting to rest his eyes.
Not five minutes later, his phone rang, and with a groan, Peter answered it without looking at the contact. “Hello?”
“Can you come to the Baxter?”
It took him about five seconds before a name came up from his mental archive “Mister Richards?”
- - -
The Baxter Building
The chopper landed without issues onto the helipad atop the Baxter. Peter dropped with a simple hop from the cargo onto the concrete flooring, squinting his eyes against the whirring storm caused by the rotating blades. “I’ll call you!” he yelled to her, and Kate nodded before informing her pilot to take the VETO vehicle off and head in the direction of the unaffected part of the city. He then jogged towards the private lift that connected to the top four floors separately from the commercial ones of the building and used his biometrics to unlock the sealed slide to reveal a peculiar knock-off version of Wall-E looking up at him from inside the elevator’s shaft. “Oh! Hi?”
“Good Evening, Peter Parker. I am a Humanoid Experimental B-type Integrated Electronics!” the conglomeration of advanced technological marvels greeted him with its metallic-shaft arm stretched to offer a handshake; with a hand made up of light-weight material skeletal structures.
“That’s a…mouthful.” Peter accepted and shook hands with the small android a little before walking into the tube. “Humanoid…H…E…B… How about…HErBIE?” beeps and whirs sounded from the robot and after a moment of contemplation the android produced a ‘ding!’ noise chirpily as it swayed side to side expressing a semblance of joy. Mister Richards is way better at programming than me.He mused as he witnessed the closest to an ideal example of artificial intelligence before him. “You like it?” he inquired about the obvious with a smirk on his lips.
“I am! I am HErBIE!” the robot replied happily, synthesizing an appropriate tone of voice into its speech pattern “Thank you for shortening my name, Peter Parker!”
“You’re welcome, HErBIE.” The superhuman chuckled in response.
The ride took about a minute more before Peter and HErBIE got out of the shaft into an open space where Reed Richards and Ben Grimm were having a quiet conversation with one another at the other end of the floor, with a peculiar figure dressed in a form-fitting suit with prominently-white contrasting with black sections hugging her lean and petite frame (not assuming as the shapely waist and wide hip gave it away) before the side profile of the maskless face greeted him with a familiar smile.
“He’s here,” Gwen announced and waved to her boyfriend, urging him over in her white super suit.
“Aww,” Peter greeted his girlfriend with an apprehensive look and confusion, eyes roaming from head to toe, taking in the design until they locked with a graze at her side, courtesy of a bullet. Gwen at least had the decency to address and treat her wound, unlike his stubborn self, “I thought you’d go with a couple-suits theme.” He pointed out her color scheme playfully and lightly touched the pinched gash. The sunflower-blonde flinched a bit at the prickle of discomfort shooting up from the stapled wound “What happened?” his voice softened and laced with concern, which warmed Gwen’s heart despite the lack of prolonged injuries on her person.
“Oh, it’s nothing,” Gwen replied and dragged him along to the other two. “Ran into some of Hammerhead’s men in Hell’s Kitchen. They stole supply crates from a GRU caravan and transported them to this abandoned OSCORP warehouse.” the blonde regale her story. “They’d guns, and I guess I wasn’t nimble enough to dodge all of them,” she gestured to the treated wound “Anyways, Daredevil showed up, and we came across this,” she finished with a motion of her hand towards a still image siphoned from her phone, showing a tubed Hammerhead floating inside what seemed to be an incubation tank.
“Was there an unknown movie adaptation?” Peter joked with furrowed brows, taking in the picture with a grim look. Then he cast his eyes up toward the Smartest Man and the Stone Giant, seeking opinions in addition, “What do you think?” he asked all of them.
“Extensive unethical surgeries. Illegal bionics grafting. Also, wild guess, experimental chemical enhancements.” Reed listed while rubbing his bearded chin, crossing his arms without taking his eyes off the tablet’s screen. “To put simply, it’s a Frankenstein’s Monster.” The Stretchy Man averted his eyes with a defeated smirk at the petite blonde, who pursed her lips in triumph. He returned his curiosity to the other superhuman “Except,” he raised his finger, faltering the smirk on the woman’s face “Technically, Joseph Martello is still alive.”
“Nitpicker,” Gwen addressed, then shifted her demeanor into a more serious one. “I can give us more details if we can get our hands on the lab, but I’m still on Harvard’s scholarship. So, we’ll have to do this by the books.”
“Which is where we ran into some obstacles,” Reed added. “OSCORP has been trying to monopolize the retrieval and research on Hammerhead and the underground lab,” then, the Stretchy Man harbors a smile on his face “I will contact Miss Walters and let her work her magic. Don’t worry.” The last part was addressed to Gwen Stacy.
Peter looked around with a confused expression, then he cleared his throat before speaking, “So, um, since you guys got everything under control.” He gestured toward Reed and Gwen “Is there anything I can do?”
“There is,” This time, it was Ben Grimm who replied. “Since Reed and your girlfriend will be occupied with the ol’ knucklehead. I think you can help me with something more…mechanical.”
“Can I name it?” Peter was awed at the experimental hybrid aerospace craft that was the biggest contract RAC had ever secured from NASA to date.
“Over my dead body.” Ben chuckled in response before tossing the fire-retardant overall to the Wall Crawler “Put that on, kid; company’s protocol.” The stone giant foregoes the protective gear himself, relying on the nature of his altered physiology instead, but doesn’t forget to put on welding goggles.
After some small talk and directions, the two spent almost an hour on their respective tasks before Peter started talking “Hey, Mister Grimm?”
“Wassup?” The Thing replied with his groveling voice, focusing on his welding job.
“What’s it like being an astronaut?” the genuine curiosity in his voice drew a hum from the giant.
“Lots of headache and puking, kid,” Ben playfully replied, finishing the section with a satisfying hum. “Months of intense training and preparation just to be shitting your pants on the lift-off.” he moved to the next spot before rechecking his welding machine’s setup and started working on it. “But nothing beats the first time you look out the port. It makes you think, you know? Just how small and insignificant we are compared to how big the rest of the universe is.” Ben hums a tune in his throat, remembering it to be one of his fellow crew’s favorite songs when he was first stationed on the ISS all those years ago.
“It also made you appreciate life more, ironically,” Ben continued with a chuckle “When even a single loose screw can kill you, you start to cherish every moment to the best of your abilities because it might as well be your last.”
The conversation died down after that, leaving only the sounds of them working to fill the assembly area.
At least, until Spider-Man decided to break the ice again, “…I always wanted to go to space, to see the wonders around us.”
“Didn’t you already?” The Thing referred to the Invasion back in 2018, where Stark later made public the list of heroes who fought alongside him and sacrificed their lives on Titan; one among the names was Spider-Man, who bravely and foolishly went into a fight none asked him to. Ben looked at the young man before him and found it mindbogglingly absurd that a sixteen-year-old Peter Parker willingly put his life on the line to enter an unwinnable fight against an alien Warlord alongside other superheroes. The kid must have either unbridled craziness, or an incomprehensibly noble heart.
In the short period he had known him now? Ben can confidently say that the man possesses both, and that might be one of many reasons Susan Storm was drawn toward the Arachnid.
He’s a true noble at heart, and sensitive people can sense that. In some cases, even attracted to it.
A rare find in this day and age.
“Eh, I guess in a way.” Peter scratched the back of his neck with a nervous chuckle. “But that Space Donut wasn’t actually designed with sightseeing in mind, though. It was like a vertical twin of the Derelict Ship in the original Alien; enclosed, functionality-focused, simple, and bland as hell.” Peter finished with the current compartment and moved to the next. “Titan wasn’t a vacation spot either; it’s a heap of ruins as far as the eyes can see, and the moon that Chinny pulled from orbit to throw at us fucked it beyond salvation.” The retelling was delivered like a schoolyard bully story rather than a frightening experience to Ben’s amusement. “Unlike our beauty here!” Peter enthusiastically gestured both hands towards the unfinished craft before them. “I know it’s just a replica of the Benatar, but look at the utilities! Six crew quarters, 15 square meters of usable space each. Two toilets. Two showers. On-board adaptable laboratory for Mister Richards and Sue to research whatever they might wanna be doing rather than spacewalk. And most essential of all; the kitchen!” Peter spun and smiled brightly at the stone giant “Wouldn’t be a trip without homecooked meals, right? And we already have a badass pilot who’s also a fantastic cook with us!” Peter gestured at the stone giant.
“I know you’d be focusing on the important things.” Ben played along with a hearty laugh.
- - -
Symkarian Rebel Hideout
“Princess.” A voice called from beyond the slab of metal that separated her quarter from the rest of the bunker.
“Yes?” Sylvia answered without lifting her eyes from recon reports and
“Your guest is here.” The person outside informed her, and it took Sable a moment to unlock the door.
Sylvia averted her eyes from the coming figure after closing her report; her sight followed a man in a black fur-collared coat reaching just above his knees, covering a wine-colored turtleneck underneath. The man smiled politically at her before relocating himself toward the single cushioned chair opposing her desk, seating himself with grace.
“You took an interesting location to hole up in, Princess Sablinova.” The man greeted and criticized her at the same time masterfully with his smooth tone and a polite nod of his head.
Sylvia sighed before returning the courtesy, “Baron Zemo. To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Reasons of States, of course.” The Sokovian noble replied, opening a bottle of brandy before pouring himself a glass and another for the host. “But first, a toast?”
Sylvia produced a quirked eyebrow at him as a question following his proposal, which the baron chuckled amusedly.
“Come now, you don’t assume I have no knowledge of what transpired around here? Give me some credits.” He took glasses in each hand and got up, cautiously approaching the desk. The silver-haired royalty huffed a little before taking the offering; her bare skin touched the leathery texture of his glove. “Quite a daring plan, planting moles inside Von Doom’s army.” He clink their glasses together before taking a swig after her with a hint of a smile on his face. He sets the glass down on her desk with a firm thud before staring into her cautious eyes with a sharp smirk “Pray tell; how long do you think they will survive?”
“Is there a purpose to your visit rather than casual talks, Baron?” Sylvia groaned and leaned forward, her eyes sharpened and rising frustration enveloping her presence “If not so, I’d like you to stop wasting my time.”
“Patience’s a virtue, Princess. Patience is a virtue.” Helmut retorted casually before taking the empty glasses back to the side table and sitting down on the chair once more. “I am here to remind you about a proposal which I made years ago. Can you recall?” There’s a hint of mischievous dashing across his face.
A grimace graces her uniquely attractive features.
“What says you, if I am to reveal a sleeper cell that I have also planted among Victor Von Doom’s army as well?” That gained a doubtful look from the silver-haired woman. “I’ve always been an advocate of the fact that a rotten foundation is what brings down an empire.”
The air tensed.
The silence is palpable.
A smirk of the baron met with a scowl of a princess.
Until Sylvia breathed out a frustrated sigh of defeat before giving Zemo a nod as an answer to his query.
“Excellent,” Helmut got up from his seat and approached the desk again, this time coming closer to Sylvia than before. He knelt on one knee as his hand produced a silver band intricately crafted into a shape resembling a thorny vine that would encircle someone’s finger beautifully. “Princess Sylvia Sablinova of Symkaria,” Zemo delivered her title like sweet honey “Would you accept this ring as a symbol of unity?” he hovers the band in front of her wavering hand, teasing the tip of her ring finger.
“…I do,” Sylvia firmly stated to the room and felt the cold metal slowly and intentionally gracing her skin until it set firmly at the base of her ring finger like a shackle enclosed around a proud lioness’s neck.
- - -
Mindscape
“Hello, Susan.” Victor’s voice softened and a smile made it to his face.
The girl looked attentively at him with a spark of curiosity behind her eyes “Are you here for Father?” the innocence squeezed at his heart. “I can fetch him for you if you’d like?” A tiny smile graced her lips.
“He is home?” Victor replied, straightening his back and looking around with a surprised gait.
“Of course, silly!” Susan chuckled along with a reply, looking at him as if he’d just told a funny joke “Where else would he be?”
Victor slowly averted his eyes from the framed pictures and back to the blonde before him with furrowed brows. Judging from her age, this should be around the period when Sir Franklin had already started the Thinktank… he observed quietly to himself and decided to say nothing more. Then, after he had seated on the cushioned chair paired with an intricate side table where a porcelain kettle sits upon a small warmer. He took the liberty to serve himself a cup while Susan stood there with her unrelenting smile “…If you’d be so kind, then.”
“A moment!” Susan begins to depart but then stops herself and looks at the man sheepishly “Whom should I say are here to see him?”
Victor chuckled a little and set the half-full cup down neatly, “Victor. Victor von Doom.”
“Just a moment, Mister von Doom!” the young Susan skipped away and disappeared around the corner before Victor’s eyes focused on the framed pictures again.
Odd. He commented internally before taking a leisurely moment before footsteps reached his ears from where the golden-haired teen went, revealing a smiling figure of Sir Franklin Storm led by his hand following his joyous daughter.
“Here he is, Father!” Susan announced with a grin, gesturing her hand in his direction, sparkling eyes looking up adoringly at the intimidating gentleman that is her father. “Victor von Doom.”
“Very good, dear,” Franklin replied with a warm smile before patting Susan’s golden crown affectionately. “Go to your mother in the kitchen and bring us some cookies, would you?”
The teen nodded enthusiastically and was about to turn in the direction as instructed before the sound of a hand being slammed onto a hard surface boomed inside the living confine startled her. “…Mister von Doom?” the question came with a wavering voice.
“This is not real,” Victor announced, more to the owner of this Mindscape than to himself, “It’s a fabricated dream, Susan.”
“What are you saying?” she asked while her father stood silent.
Victor stood up and approached the duo with determined eyes locked onto the teen, “It’s an illusion created inside your brain, Susan. It’s a self-sustaining mechanism that you’d unknowingly deployed upon yourself in a moment of dire stress.” He knelt before her and took both her shoulders under his hands, gripping firmly. “See through it, wake up.” He demanded while averting his eyes towards the smiling Franklin Storm with disdain “He is not your father.”
“Nonsense…” she weakly protested, trying to wiggle out of his hold.
“He is not. You have to know,” he pleaded calmly, thinking back to the man he knew the aristocrat to be “This is not Franklin Storm.”
“He is!” her voice gained volume yet depleted slowly of its conviction.
“He is not.” With a flick of his wrist, Doom summoned the framed pictures he’d spied earlier to leisurely hovering before them, picking the first to show her “Even from the moment you were born, he’d never shown love.”
“That’s not true…” Susan trailed off, confused and desperate, looking up at the smiling man next to them just to see him unresponsive to the accusation.
Or anything in general.
“He’s my father,” Susan says with a quivering voice “He loves me!” she roared, and Victor felt a substantial push slammed into his body; must be her force-field being manifested. “Your lies cannot change that!”
“I’ve only ever spoken the truth, Susan,” Victor replied, regaining his posture “I know your father; he only saw you when he realized you can be of use to him.” He said with sadness in his voice, “But he’d never truly loved you.”
“Lies!” Susan pushed forward and sent the monarch flying into the wall behind him, pinning the king of Latveria flat with her invisible construct. “Stop insulting my father!”
“You know…” Victor grunted, finding it hard to strain against her tremendous exert of power “…better than anyone…” At a disadvantage inside someone else’s mind, he could only pray the woman holds mercy in her subconscious: “…what is true…”
Still, with attuned awareness, Victor noticed a slip in her barrier and quickly fired a bolt of greenish lighting at the smilingly stoic Franklin Storm, shattering the mirrored imitation into shards.
“No! No—” her cry interrupted as the shards surrounded her like a bladed tornado, circling her in its storming prison. Her eyes glazed over, and suddenly, he was forced out of the Mindscape.
Victor gasped at the sudden surge of mystic energy within him due to the abrupt dispelling of the House of Morpheus runes. He grunted against the headache and pushed himself off the circle into a stand, quickly tracing his way toward the secret chamber housing the comatose body of the biochemist.
Quickly getting inside, he disengaged the veil film before the tube and revealed a sight that brought a pained smile onto his face.
Those blue eyes opened widely, frantically looking around with confusion.