The sky above Doomstadt was a canvas of pale blue, dotted with lazy streaks of clouds drifting across the sun. A formation of seven Doombots flew overhead, variations of the Servo-Guards, their metallic frames gleaming as they headed north using thrusters similar to Iron Man's armor, toward the location of Latveria's military base and the monarch's operational area.
Below them, their leader moved through the streets of the city center with measured confidence over his domain. His hands were clasped behind his back above his green cape flowing behind him like a banner of authority. His mask was fixed forward, a constant and watchful presence.
"My nation was founded in the 14th century, though the exact year has been lost to time. Established by the Haasen clan. The main heads were brothers, Rudolf and Karl. Explorers, adventurers, and men of vision who saw the potential of this valley and sought to build a settlement that would endure for centuries."
Victor von Doom narrated with his resonant and commanding voice, as if giving a lecture to a room full of students.
Diana listened attentively to the story as she walked at his left side, her pink garment rustling with every step. His voice filled the space between them as he spoke of the city's origins.
"Rudolf Haasen became the first king." Doom continued, his voice carrying a note of pride. "He took the name Rudolf I and laid the foundations of our nation. His brother Karl became the first royal baron, tasked with governing the surrounding lands and ensuring the kingdom's stability."
In the past, Diana had been reluctant to understand the history of the world of men because of her mother's and her Amazon sisters' insecurities. Then Steve Trevor arrived and changed her perception. Since childhood she had the quality of learning the origins and myths of her island, valuable objects, and especially those of her gods and ancestors. She enjoyed the history of the rise and fall of past nations of the outside world, the stories of kings and conquerors.
"Time passed, and Vlad Draaser took the other throne. He intentionally divided my people, causing civil wars for several years until the Bolgorad Treaties returned the descendants of the Haasen clan to the throne."
Diana continued listening to the man's words.
"They ruled for centuries until the Fortunov clan. Those bastards…" He paused while continuing his authoritative walk.
She heard the change in his voice. The pride had vanished, replaced by something darker. Contempt, perhaps.
"In short, the Haasens were wise. The Draasers were weak. But none were as cursed as the Fortunov."
They passed a group of merchants who bowed deeply as Doom and Diana approached. He acknowledged them with a slight nod of his head, his attention never wavering from his story.
"Vladimir Fortunov was a wretch, a man who ruled through fear and ignorance. His methods were crude, his vision narrow. He did not build, he destroyed. He did not protect his people, he exploited them. Famine and poverty came because of him."
Diana remained silent as she walked, her eyes fixed on him, the cobblestones beneath their feet. She could feel the weight of his words, the darkness clinging to this nation's history.
"During the Second World War, the same Vladimir Fortunov, alias Baron Sabbat, made a pact with the Third Reich. In exchange for not invading Latveria, he promised his loyalty to their cause. He allowed the Nazis to march through our streets. He allowed them to take whatever they wanted from our people. He sold his soul to another monster, and he called it diplomacy."
Doom stopped walking, maintaining his posture. His head turned toward her, his mask betraying nothing, but she could feel the intensity of his gaze through the slits. She mirrored his action.
"Doom does not claim the Fortunov clan as ancestors. They were parasites, leeches that drained the life from my nation. They were not Latverians, they were opportunists who hid behind our flag while selling us to foreign powers. Doom has no kinship with them. Doom despises them…"
Diana heard that something was missing in his dialect.
"Doom overthrew the baron. I killed him."
Diana froze, her mind reeling from Doom's words. The confession had come so casually, so matter-of-factly, as if he were discussing the weather rather than the death of an entire ruling family.
"I killed him by force. Along with the rest of his clan." He declared in a strong voice.
The words echoed in her mind, their implications spreading like ripples in a pond.
He was not lying. His eyes through the mask revealed everything.
She had killed before: she was a warrior, after all. She had killed monsters, defeated gods, and ended the lives of those who threatened the innocent. But each time, it had been a last resort, a choice made when all other options had been exhausted.
She had never killed an entire family. Not an entire clan.
She looked at Doom, her eyes searching his masked face for any sign of remorse, any flicker of hesitation. She found nothing. His posture was as rigid as ever, his voice as firm as stone. He had spoken of the baron's death as if it were a task, a necessary duty that required no second thought.
"Is that what you are, Victor von Doom? A man who kills without hesitation? Who erases entire bloodlines and feels nothing?"
She wanted to ask him. She wanted to demand an explanation, to force him to justify his actions. But Doom had ordered her not to ask questions during the tour.
"What would you have done in his place, Diana?" She asked herself.
The question gnawed at her, refusing to be silenced. She had killed before. She had ended lives in battle when there was no other choice. She had once killed Ares when his madness threatened to destroy the world. She had killed Maxwell Lord when his mind control had forced her to choose between his life and that of her friend Clark Kent.
She had never killed in cold blood. She had never executed a defeated enemy. She had never annihilated an entire clan.
"That is what separates me from him." Her mind spoke.
In conclusion, Diana had found herself drawn to Doom's narrative, despite her discomfort with him. Until his final cold-blooded murder declaration.
It was as if she were listening to the dictator Teth Adam in person, recounting his past life in times of slavery in ancient Egypt, the wizard Shazam, his exile and return, and his claim to the throne of Kahndaq. It was not the same as what Doom did. Adam had not killed the ruler of that time, Asim Muhunnad, in cold blood. That was Albert Rothstein aka Atom Smasher. Although she questioned Black Adam's methods.
"All the people around you are grateful to their savior. I, Victor von Doom. I eliminated the main plague of my kingdom and did the same to those who violated the peace of Latveria."
It was unusual for her to feel a slight chill. Perhaps Doom's trick. She stopped looking at Doom and observed her surroundings: three children playing with a cat, two women chatting as they walked along the path with market shopping bags, a robot helping a blind elderly man, and an 18-year-old boy sitting on the ground quietly reading a book under a lamppost as if he feared no one would steal his belongings.
"It was the beginning of a true utopia…" she wondered to herself.
She turned to look at Doom. The man was six steps ahead of her with his emerald cape trailing behind him. He raised a hand and gestured with his finger for her to follow.
Angry with him for leaving her there, she moved to follow him.
Diana returned to his side. During the short journey, she noticed the absence of high-end cars, something unusual to her. Because she was familiar with New York and Washington DC. The cars were replaced by carriages pulled by brown horses and tricycles passing by them back and forth, with no technological vehicles, no Volkswagen or Toyota from the 1930s.
Diana heard the murmur of voices. Women speaking in Latverian, their words flowing like water. Men speaking in Romani, their tones respectful as they addressed their ruler.
Doom acknowledged them again with a wave of his hand, his presence a constant reminder of who held power in this land.
Then they emerged into a vast open space, the central square of Doomstadt. Diana stopped, her breath catching in her throat.
The square was immense, paved with smooth stones that gleamed in the sunlight. Fountains bubbled at its edges, their water sparkling like liquid diamonds. Flower beds burst with color, their petals swaying in the gentle breeze.
And in the center of it all, dominating the square like a monument to the divine, stood a stone statue of Victor von Doom, extending his hand forward.
It was enormous, rising above the surrounding buildings. Doom's armored form was depicted in perfect detail, his stone cape billowing behind him as if caught in an eternal wind. His mask was fixed in an expression of severe authority, his eyes looking down at the people below with an almost divine benevolence.
Diana stared at it, her emotions a tangle of awe and resentment. It was a masterpiece of sculpture, a work of art that would have been the pride of any nation. But it was also a testament to Doom's ego, a constant reminder of his absolute power.
People walked beneath it, their heads bowed in reverence. Some knelt before the original Victor von Doom, hands clasped in respect. Others left offerings: flowers, coins and small tokens of devotion at the statue while others whispered.
"Long live von Doom."
Diana watched and listened them, her mind churning.
"After the baron's death, Doom assumed power. Under his rule, Hassenstadt was reborn as Doomstadt. The city was renamed in honor of Cynthia von Doom."
She stared at him. Doom continued in his strong, superior tone.
"Cynthia von Doom? Who could she be? His mother? Another member of his clan?" She wondered mentally. Something delicate she needed to know more about.
"And now Doomstadt stands as a testament to her vision." Doom continued. "A city of order and prosperity. The people are safe and fed. They are protected and they are grateful."
Diana said nothing. She could not deny the evidence of her own eyes. The city was peaceful in its own way. She should see some weakness in what she witnessed, but there was none for now.
She could not forget that she was a prisoner here. That the man who ruled this land had taken her from her Earth. That his vision of order had a cost.
"Latveria worships Doom as its god. They do not pray to the absent gods of Olympus or the distant deities of other worlds. Only Doom. They worship the one who freed them from tyranny. The one who gave them a good future. With me, nothing is impossible." Doom said, his voice grandiloquent.
She looked at Doom, and for the first time, she saw him not as a monster, but as something more complex. A man who had made decisions she could not fully understand. A man who had done terrible things for reasons she could not fully condemn.
"My people celebrated Doom's final blow against the baron. The Fortunov clan now suffers in the very depths of hell. The devil himself smiles upon their burning souls." He said in a triumphant voice.
Diana kept her gaze on him. She thought about the girl with the flowers and the way Doom had crouched to her level, his voice soft and his hands gentle. She thought about the way he had touched the girl's hair, almost paternally.
"That is the same man who killed an entire royal clan. That is the same man who annihilated a clan without hesitation."
"How can those two images exist in the same person?"
Her thoughts continued to flow.
"Follow me." Doom ordered, his voice breaking her thoughts.
///
Diana's eyes were on the medium-sized park in front of her, enjoying the curious collection of statues that dotted the landscape. A green space in the heart of Latveria's capital, its small paths bordered by carefully tended hedges and flower beds bursting with color. Doombots patrolled the perimeter.
The statues adorning the place caught her attention.
They were everywhere, dozens of them, each one representing Victor von Doom in a different pose, a different moment of triumph. Some showed him in moments of reflection, his masked face tilted toward the heavens as if in communion with the gods. Others showed him in his characteristic poses of authority with his cape billowing behind him.
It was too much. Diana had to admit, strangely impressive.
Her gaze settled on one statue in particular, her eyes widening as she took in its details.
The sculpture was a representation of Doom without his cape, his armored form captured with exquisite detail. His gloved hands were wrapped around the throat of a bearded man in black robes, a thin green cloak hanging around the man's neck. The man's face was contorted in a mask of terror and desperation, his hands clutching uselessly at Doom's armored grip.
To the left of the statue, a stone plaque was engraved with bold and dominant letters:
MONUMENT TO THE HONORABLE VICTOR VON DOOM OVER KING VLADIMIR FORTUNOV.
Diana stared at the plaque, her mind reeling.
He had commissioned a statue of himself strangling a man. Doom had placed it in a public park.
"Here is Doom's first victory. I wonder how you would have reacted when you saw my feat in person at that moment."
She heard Doom's voice behind her, low and resonant, carrying a note of dark satisfaction.
She turned to look at him. He stood a few meters away, hands still clasped behind his back, his mask fixed on the statue with an expression of quiet pride.
"I wish you had witnessed it, Wonder Woman. When he begged for mercy?" Doom continued, his voice dripping with malice, taunting the superheroine. "When I strangled that parasite's weak neck? When I drained his life before my eyes?"
Diana's jaw tightened. She felt anger rising in her chest, hot and immediate. Her fists clenched. She wanted to respond, to defend herself, to remind him that she was not his audience, not his subject, not his devotee.
She turned her gaze back to the statue to ignore the man.
"You are a monstrous egomaniac that I cannot fully understand."
That phrase never reached her lips.
Then a scene appeared fully in her mind, the one he was describing. The baron on his knees, begging for mercy. Doom's hands around his throat. The light fading from his eyes. Those sinister eyes inside his mask.
She did not want to see it. She did not want to imagine it. The image stayed in her mind. She forced herself to look away from the statue, making herself focus on something else. Her eyes searched for anything that could distract her from the image of Doom's hands around the baron's throat.
She walked slowly to one side, trying to move away from him, but found a pair of stone statues.
Diana approached these new triumphs of the ruler.
The first depicted Doom on a surfboard, his cape billowing behind him held by its base. His pose signaled an attack toward something unknown as if he had done it a thousand times before.
"Can you surf? A hobby? But it doesn't seem like it." The Amazon thought.
She turned away, shaking her head. She walked toward the second statue that had caught her attention.
This one was different from the others. It was slightly larger and more dramatic. It showed Doom from the ground launching an attack at the stomach of a giant, unrecognizable stone being. The latter seemed to have a helmet on its head.
Diana studied the statue more closely, her eyes tracing its contours. It gave off the vibe of a creature from another world. She did not recognize the stone being. It was different from anything she had seen in her life fighting with the League, but it did not match that galaxy destroyer called Imperiex. It was very similar in size, but with different details.
Doom approached her, his steps soft against the grass. He stood beside her, his gaze fixed on the statue.
"Monument Park." He said, his voice carrying a note of pride. "The space where Doom displays his triumphs to his people. Every statue tells a story. Every victory is preserved for eternity."
Diana still had her eyes roaming across the park. She saw Doom in battle. She saw Doom triumphant. She saw Doom in moments of quiet reflection.
She saw a man who had built a nation in his own image, who had turned his victories into monuments that would endure for centuries.
She did not know if she admired him or despised him.
Perhaps it was both.
"Let us continue." He ordered.
///
Diana followed Doom through the winding streets of Doomstadt, her eyes fixed on the structure rising before them. It was a castle, or at least it resembled one. Its stone walls were eroded by time, its towers stretching toward the sky like fingers of ancient rock. It was not as large as Doom's fortress on the hill, but it was impressive in its own right, its architecture a blend of medieval grandeur and subtle modern touches that hinted at the knowledge contained within.
Doom approached the iron gates, which opened at his presence. Two Doombots flanked the entrance, their glowing eyes tracking their movements with mechanical precision. They did not speak. They simply stood there, silent sentinels guarding the threshold.
Diana followed him through the gates, her sandals clicking against the cobblestones of the courtyard beyond. The space was vast, surrounded by cloistered walkways and walls covered in ivy. Male students moved through the courtyard in small groups, their green and black tunics forming a uniform sea of color against the gray stone. Their black boots were visible and green capes flowed behind them. All of them wore the symbol of Latveria on their chests, the horn-shaped emblem she had seen on the flag.
They all bowed as Doom passed.
"Lord Doom has returned." She heard one of them whisper, his voice filled with reverence.
"Welcome, my lord." Said another, his tone equally respectful.
"Doom approves of your greetings. Return to your duties." Doom spoke as if he were the principal director of the grounds and made a slight nod, his pace unhurried as he moved through the courtyard.
His presence commanded attention effortlessly, drawing the eyes of every student he crossed paths with.
Diana followed, her gaze sweeping across the courtyard. She saw young men and women of various ages, their faces bright with the optimism of youth. They carried books and scrolls, their conversations animated and passionate. They noticed her and looked at her with curiosity. They were university students.
"You are inside Werner Academy, dear." Doom said in a softer tone. "The main university of Doomstadt. In honor of my father, Werner von Doom, a healer who devoted his life to the service of others. Doom has continued his legacy through this institution."
Diana's eyes widened slightly.
"The true name of Doom's father. Werner von Doom. So the name Cynthia, she was his mother."
Her mind connected the dots.
"It means they died. By Hera, I want answers now. I cannot speak because he ordered me not to. If I disobey him…"
"I did not know his father was a healer. He must have been a noble man unlike his son. Doom named Doomstadt and Werner Academy in honor of his parents. It is surprisingly sentimental. Something tragic must have happened with them that I want to know now."
She returned to reality.
"Education here is fully funded by Doom." Doom continued, his voice regaining its commanding tone. "Every young Latverian, regardless of their background, has access to the best instruction in science, engineering, medicine, and magic. First-year students are already capable of building a Doombot or solving advanced algorithms. Those who graduate will be among the brightest minds in the world."
Diana absorbed his words, her mind churning. Doom did not operate solely through fear and oppression. She had not expected him to invest in education. She had not expected him to build a university that could rival those in her own world.
"He is a man of contradictions." She thought. "A murderer who funds education. A tyrant who builds schools. A monster who honors his father and mother."
She did not know what to make of him.
Doom led her through the courtyard and into the main building, its hallways lined with portraits of distinguished alumni. The walls were adorned with tapestries depicting scenes from Latverian history, their colors faded but still vibrant. Students moved through the hallways, their footsteps echoing against the stone floors.
Doom stopped before a classroom, gesturing with his hand toward the open door. Diana stepped forward, her eyes on the scene inside.
A robot professor stood at the front of the room, its metallic frame gleaming under the soft light of the overhead lamps. It spoke in a monotone voice, its words precise and measured, as it gave a lecture on advanced quantum mechanics. The students sat in orderly rows, their eyes fixed on the robot, their hands taking notes with mechanical efficiency.
Diana watched the scene, her emotions a tangle of admiration and unease. The students were learning, yes. They were being educated, their minds sharpened by a rigorous curriculum. But there was something unsettling about the scene: the uniformity, the discipline, and the lack of spontaneity.
Then Doom led her through the building, advanced classrooms and laboratories, lecture halls and study rooms. He showed her the cafeteria, where students ate meals prepared by Doombots, their food free and abundant.
"The food is provided at no cost, as it is throughout my territory." Doom said, his voice carrying a note of satisfaction. "No student goes hungry. No student is denied nourishment."
Diana nodded, her eyes sweeping across the cafeteria. The students ate in relative silence and enjoyed conversation among their peers.
Doom guided her through the different faculty towers, each dedicated to a specific field of study. The advanced sciences tower hummed with the sound of typing on large computers, mathematical calculations on blackboards, and laboratories full of students conducting chemistry experiments. The engineering and robotics tower was a maze of blueprints and prototypes, its students working on projects that would have impressed Tony Stark himself. The medical tower was quieter, its students studying anatomy and healing arts with the dedication of future doctors. The political science tower held lectures on diplomatic decision-making.
Then there was the magic tower.
Diana stopped at its entrance, her eyes widening. The tower was different from the others: older, more mysterious, its walls covered in arcane symbols and glowing runes. She could feel the energy radiating from within, a subtle hum that resonated with her Amazonian senses.
"Magic." She said in her own mind. "I expected that from you."
Doom's mask turned toward her.
"Magic is a science, Diana. A discipline that requires rigorous study and practice. Doom teaches his students to harness its power responsibly, to use it for the betterment of Latveria, not for selfish gain."
Doom spoke as if he could read her mind. But Diana said nothing. She could not argue with his logic. The idea of Doom training an army of mages was unsettling.
"He is building a nation of scholars and sorcerers. A nation that will serve him for generations."
The minutes passed, Doom led her back through the courtyard, his cape billowing behind him. Diana followed, her mind swirling with thoughts and questions.
As they walked, she noticed out of the corner of her eye a young adult sitting alone on a bench near the edge of the courtyard. He had brown hair that fell over his forehead in rebellious waves. He wore an orange shirt and pants with a green cape, a combination that looked both casual and formal. In his hands, he held a book, its pages open to a section on politics and governance.
But he was not reading.
He was watching her.
Diana felt his gaze on her, his eyes following her movements with an intensity that made her uncomfortable. She met his gaze, her own eyes narrowing. He did not look away. He simply continued staring, his expression unreadable.
She realized his attention was not entirely on her. He was also looking at Doom. His gaze shifted between them, studying their interactions with the focus of a scholar examining a rare artifact.
"Who is this young man? Why is he looking at us with such intensity?"
She had seen other students look at Doom with reverence. But this young man's gaze was different. It was analytical, curious, and almost defiant.
She looked at Doom, expecting him to notice the young man's attention. But Doom seemed oblivious, his gaze fixed forward, his stride unbroken.
The young man raised his book, hiding his face behind its pages. But Diana could still feel his eyes on them, watching, observing, and cataloging.
"I will show you the rest, Diana." He commanded. "There is a great deal of history you should know."
Diana hesitated, her eyes lingering on the young man. He was still watching them, his book lowered slightly, his gaze fixed on Doom's retreating form.
"Who are you? And why are you so interested in Doom and me?"
She had no answer. Not yet.
She simply followed Doom, leaving the young man behind.
The young man, from his position, murmured.
"Father, what are you doing now?"