by Marv Wolfman
The frightened woman nodded and said nothing about her crippled son. I have been given my life, she thought. I dare not ask for anything more.
To anyone who looked, Latveria was a “picture-postcard” kingdom. The people seemed contented, though they rarely smiled.
There was a reason why.
Eleven
“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?
Twelve
Johnny Storm yawned as he circled the Latverian village. Borrrring! He had come with the others, hoping to get into action. He wanted to do something, anything, to forget about Frankie Raye. But he couldn’t shove her beautiful face from his thoughts. She haunted him every moment. Wherever he looked, he saw her.
Below him, he could see the Latverian farmers staring up in horror. Was he a demon? One of Doom’s treacherous devices come to spy on them? They turned from their flaming visitor and returned to their work. If he was with Doom, he would see them working hard. That would please their iron-clad master.
What I need, Johnny concluded, is to find someone my own age. Not everyone here is old. Or are they?
He flew lower over the small huts and saw a teen-ager tending a small private garden. The boy felt the heat on his back and turned to see Johnny Storm standing behind him. “Who are you?” He stared at Johnny questioningly. Latveria was a small country. No one was permitted entrance; no one was allowed to leave. Soon you learned who everyone was. This blond stranger was not one of them.
“Who are you?” he repeated. “How did you get in here? The gate was locked.”
Johnny flashed a smile. “My name’s Johnny Storm. From America. I was, uh, brought here by your leader.” The boy stared at Johnny. Then his eyes grew narrow.
“Go away. Leave me alone. I do my work. I do not want to be bothered.” He turned and ignored the stranger. If he came here with Doom, he belonged to Doom. It was best not to consort with Doom’s men. You could die that way.
But Johnny was persistent. “C’mon. I’m not with Dr. Doom. You don’t have to fear me.”
The youth turned again and studied Johnny. He was not like Doom’s men. He had an easy smile; his eyes showed no signs of evil. Perhaps he had been too hasty.
“I am Erich.”
Johnny extended a hand, but when Erich failed to take it, he let it drop to his side. “Erich, you wouldn’t happen to know where I could find any girls around here. My age?”
The Latverian youth smiled. His fears vanished. With a nod, he bid Johnny to follow him.
Doom continued: “. . . and this is my royal chamber. The bed has been created especially for me. The linens are sewn here in Latveria by my handmaidens. The women among you will appreciate the finely spun cloth and the expertise of the seamstresses. Please, all of you, as you return home accept from me a sample of their work. I insist on it.”
Reed hung back, Ben at his side. “All appears to be normal, Ben. Too normal.”
The Thing nodded in agreement. “Hey, Susie ain’t come back yet. Ya think somethin’ happened?”
Reed suppressed a grimace. “Let me try to raise her on the belt radio.” His fingers fumbled with the switch as he moved from one frequency to the next. He clenched his teeth as worry overtook him. “She’s not answering, Ben. I don’t like this. None of this.”
Ben was ready to move. “That tears it, Stretch. I’m gonna squeeze that tin-can’s neck till he talks.”
“No, Ben. Doom won’t miss us if we split off from the crowd. Let’s check this out first. If we don’t find Sue, then we’ll confront him . . . and we’ll do it away from the others. I don’t want anyone hurt.” He saw Ben was grumbling The big man would love to tear Doom apart for any number of reasons. “Do you understand that, Ben?”
Ben hissed his answer. “I understand it, Mister. I just don’t have ta like it. That crumbbum an’ me go together like salt an’ a wound. Whenever I see ’im, I just wanna clobber ’im but good.”
“If we don’t find Sue, you’ll get your chance. I promise you that. Now, come on, we’ve got work to do.”
They ran through the corridor to where Sue had left them. Reed glanced down the hallway and said, “She could’ve taken either of those doors. We’ll split up. First one to find her, contact the other—immediately. And that means no fighting, Ben. I want the three of us together before we decide what to do.”
“Sure, sure. No scrappin’. I gotcha, Reed.” ’Course, if I just happen ta knock a few heads together ’fore I give ya the signal, what the heck, right?
The door Ben opened took him into a wide courtyard made of stone. Suits of armor stood in the wide archways. Long spears were at their sides. At the far end of the court, there were two mounted knights on stone horses.
Above him was a wide balcony, and a carved stone fence ran the whole distance around it. Directly over him a crystal chandelier hung in place.
To his back was the door he had just entered, and across the courtyard was the door he headed for.
“Blasted place looks like a blamed museum. How can that tin-plated tyrant live here? Ya can’t put yer feet up on a table when the blamed table’s prob’ly worth more’n you are.”
He heard a creaking sound come from behind him. He whirled in time to see a steel door slide in front of the wooden door he had come through. Another steel door slid in front of the door at the far end of the courtyard.
“So, we wuz right, Doom, wuzn’t we? Yer playin’ games with us? Well, yer crazy if ya think a little piece o’ tin’s gonna stop the ever-lovin’, blue-eyed Thing.”
Ben lumbered toward the far door. No use going back. As he reached the center of the court, he heard the squeak of steel grinding against steel. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw what was making the sound.
“Kiss my fanny. It ain’t possible.” The suit of armor closest to him creaked off its pedestal, its lance in its hand. “I ain’t asleep, and this certainly ain’t no knightmare.”
Stiffly, the armored form plodded toward the orange behemoth, its limbs moving more smoothly with every step it took. A second suit of armor leaped off its pedestal and lifted its lance for an attack.
Ben saw three more such suits move and approach him, slowly at first, but as each became more accustomed to movement, it speeded up, stepped more naturally.
“Awright,
ya bozos!” Ben shouted at no one in particular. “Lemme see what yer made of.”
With astonishing speed, he grabbed the first suit. His powerful fingers closed vise-like on its arm. Silently, the living armament thrust its lance into Ben’s stomach. The steel crackled with raw energy. One thousand painful volts of electricity jolted their way through the Thing’s massive hand.
Instinctively, he fell back and dropped to the floor, grabbing his burning hand with his other. “Blasted thing’s hot-wired. Now what’ll I do?”
Ben heard the footstep behind him and he whirled as two lances smashed into him. His rocky hide sizzled and he yelped in pain.
Scrambling, he made his way to the far end of the courtyard. His deep blue eyes grew wide and horrified; ten suits of armor marched toward him, their lances ready for attack, their expressionless faces seeming to leer in ghoulish delight.
They paused and turned their armored heads toward the two corners of the room. At once, the two massive suits poised atop their stone steeds came to life. The horses reared, their legs clawed the air, and then they leaped from their pedestals and galloped toward the Thing.
That was the signal to begin.
They moved in.
And Ben felt the stone wall press against his back.
The door Reed Richards opened revealed a large, seemingly endless series of corridors that crisscrossed each other, came to abrupt dead ends, led back to their starting point, and proved to be nothing less than an intricate maze.
Reed stretched above the maze and saw at the far end an open door beyond which was a one-way mirror. Through the mirror Reed could see Sue. She darted in terror from flashing red lights that appeared for a moment, then vanished, only to reappear from another direction. He saw a beam flash across Sue’s forehead. She grabbed her head painfully. Blood oozed through her gloved fingertips.