by Alex Irvine
He dodged the drones’ energy blasts and maneuvered himself in front of the door. He paused for a split second; then, as their weapons discharged, he slipped to one side.
The drones’ attack weakened the door. Doom then destroyed them with casual blasts of energy from his gauntlets. He could manage the rest of the entrance by himself. He finished wrenching open the door and blasting apart every control mechanism he saw near the door. One of them, logic dictated, would oversee the defensive systems within the fortress. Once they were deactivated, the entirety of this edifice would be his to use as he saw fit.
He explored the halls and rooms, seeing much he did not understand—but would, given time. Then, in a laboratory five times the size of even the grandest room in Castle Doom, he saw something that he instantly knew could be turned to his advantage.
On a gurney framed by an array of instruments and tools lay Ultron. Galactus may have neutralized the mighty automaton, but Doom knew Ultron was never quite as dead as it might appear. Perhaps its Adamantium body still could be reanimated—and controlled.
“You will be quite useful when the rest of my associates return from their skirmish,” he said, and he got to work.
*
He finished just in time. Having rebuilt some of the surveillance systems, Doom was aware of the others’ return well before they arrived. He could even hear them bickering with each other as they approached. Molecule Man whined nervously about possible pursuit; Octavius goaded him; Crusher Creel, with his typical delicacy, mocked and taunted everyone, no doubt hoping to provoke fights. The Wrecker was with them in the vanguard of the returning group, arguing that they should all relax. “There’s our little home away from home,” he said. “We can regroup and figure out our next move inside.”
Doom noted their diminished numbers with some satisfaction. They had failed without him, as he knew they would. He presented himself in the doorway and said, with mocking bonhomie, “Greetings! Welcome to Doombase.”
They froze. “I thought Kang destroyed you,” Octavius said warily, his metallic arms stiff and poised for attack.
“Looks like he didn’t do such a good job,” the Wrecker commented, hoisting his crowbar to his shoulder and eyeing the others.
“Yeah, well, that can be fixed,” Creel said. “Get outta the way, Doom, or I’m gonna belt that mask off your face.”
“I think he’s just trying to say we’re very tired and would like to come in and get some rest,” Molecule Man said in a battle-weary voice. Doom regarded him with disdain.
“No, Creel is right,” the Wrecker said. “He said what we all meant.”
“Doctor Octopus rules here now, Doom!” Octavius said. His tentacles reached out for Doom, who made no move to resist. He had anticipated such a power shift would occur in his absence—but Doom always had a contingency plan.
KRAAAK! A blast of energy from above the doorway dropped all four challengers to the ground.
“I think not, Octavius,” Doom said as the four recovered their senses and looked up to the source of the ambush.
“Ultron!” Octavius cried.
“Correct,” Doom said. “Ultron. Composed of a material you cannot damage; powered by energies that even you, Creel, cannot hope to absorb—and none of the rest of you can withstand. I rebuilt him. He now serves me. Would you like to pursue your challenge…or shall we move beyond this little contretemps and proceed with my plan to gain control of the Beyonder’s powers?”
There was a pause. Then the Wrecker shrugged. “Whatever,” he said. “I’m hungry. You want to be in charge, Doom, you go ahead. We’ll see if it lasts.”
“Indeed we will,” Doom said. He stepped back and gestured for them to enter. “Gentlemen, your quarters await.”
Seeing themselves abandoned, Creel and Octavius followed the Wrecker and Molecule Man inside the base. Doom fell into step next to Owen Reece. “I trust you were not unduly inconvenienced by that misunderstanding,” he said. As distasteful as Doom found the man, Reece had to be handled carefully. At times he needed to be cowed, at others encouraged. He was perhaps the most powerful of them all—for now—and he was critical to Doom’s plan.
“No, it’s…I just want to stay out of it, Doom. All of it,” Owen said, showing no trace of his earlier defiance. “I’m tired.”
“Naturally,” Doom said soothingly. “I believe you will find your quarters quite to your liking.”
Ahead of them he heard the Wrecker and Absorbing Man grumbling to each other. “What’s Doom’s game?” Creel said. “Why’s he cozying up to Crybaby Reece?”
“Lemme explain it to you while you shut up and listen,” the Wrecker said, very quietly. “Reece comes across like Emperor of the Wusses, but that guy’s probably more powerful than the rest of us combined— ’cept he’s psyched himself into not using his powers. Doom’s probably trying to make sure he’s gonna help when we need him.”
Good, Doom thought. Even a clod like the Wrecker understands. He let them go—and then he let Molecule Man leave as well. He and Octavius stayed behind. “It appears as though you hold the cards, Victor,” Octavius said. “What is your plan? And what happened to Galactus?”
“Behold,” Doom said. He lit up a ten-meter-wide video screen; the display showed Galactus, framed in a nimbus of energy astride a snowy mountain peak. “He stands there, perhaps four thousand miles from here. He has not moved. I am not certain what he is doing…but I have my suspicions. As far as the plan, suffice it to say that the forces of Doom will triumph. As long as you are with me, nothing should concern you. Rest now, Octavius. There will be much to do soon.”
He watched Octavius go, his posture rigid with wounded dignity. There would be opposition from that quarter sooner or later. Doctor Octopus was not the sort to take orders willingly when he saw a way to give them himself—as his behavior in Doom’s absence proved. Octavius was intelligent enough to manipulate the others—precisely as Doom was. But Doom’s rule served a grander goal than merely surviving the Beyonder’s inscrutable game.
Now, Doom had a number of minor pieces to sacrifice to attain that which he sought from the Beyonder—and Octavius was one. So let the man scheme. There would be no secrets from Doom within Doombase—or anywhere else, once he had assimilated the Beyonder’s powers.
TWELVE
BEN GRIMM knew he was a gloomy Gus by nature, and this Battleworld place wasn’t doing his mood any good. After the battle, they’d almost magically found a base large enough to house them all—even the prisoners. Ben drifted through the place while everyone else was doing…well, whatever they were doing. It was late at night, and most of them were probably asleep. Ben wasn’t sleeping so well, and there wasn’t even a Mets game on to distract him. Battleworld didn’t have any TV sets that got New York stations.
The base was so big he could wander for weeks and not even see half of it. There were hangars, garages, a little factory, and all kinds of giant mechanical stuff down in the lower levels. A bit higher up were labs—floors and floors of labs. That part of it was like Reed’s nerd hideaway in the Baxter Building, only times a hundred—and with tech that none of them had ever seen. Still, the brainiacs in the group were already starting to figure it out. Living quarters took up the upper floors, except for a big meeting area all the way up top, with windows all around. All in all, Ben thought, it wouldn’t have been a bad place—if it’d been back on Earth instead of out here on the hind end of nowhere.
He didn’t know what to do with what the Beyonder had said. No way was he going to just go kill a bunch of people, no matter what. His fondest wish—other than not being a big, ugly, walking mess of orange rocks—was to return home, to Alicia Masters. He’d found love with the blind sculptress, but he wasn’t worthy of her. Most of the time, he figured she just pitied him—but the one time he’d mentioned that to Sue Richards, she’d looked like she wanted to smack him. “You’re pitying yourself,” she’d said. “Don’t put that on Alicia.”
Fair enough, Ben thoug
ht. That’s one more thing I gotta figure out.
He turned a corner and saw Reed and Cyclops having a conversation. They were on a balcony overlooking the planet’s landscape of trees shaped like giant mushrooms adorned with dangling balls hanging from vines, like a forest of party hats. Little birdlike things, or maybe they were more buglike, were coming and going from the balls. On the ground, vines slithered around like snakes, making themselves into nests where the little flying critters laid eggs. And that was just right outside this part of the balcony. Ben hadn’t seen too much of Battleworld, but what he had seen was enough to convince him that most of the worlds in the galaxy had to be real, real weird.
“I wasn’t even wearing my uniform,” Cyclops was saying. “But when I got here…” He spread his arms and looked down at himself.
“Interesting. Xavier said he wasn’t sitting in his wheelchair at the moment he was brought here,” Reed mused. “And then he was in it when we arrived.”
“Not for very long,” Cyclops said.
“If that was his deepest wish,” Reed said, “he won’t need to slay any enemies, will he?”
Cyclops looked at him. “You think that’s what happened?”
“What, that Xavier wished himself out of the wheelchair? I don’t know, Scott. What do you think?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Try this out. It seems to me that the Beyonder changed us a little when he brought us here. Removed what he sees as weaknesses, so we would be at our best to face each other,” Reed said.
They heard Ben approach and turned to greet him. “You should get some rest, Ben,” Reed said.
“Shuteye ain’t on the agenda tonight, I don’t think,” Ben said. “Looks like it’s not for you, either.”
“We’re just trying to figure out what the Beyonder is up to, like everyone else,” Reed said.
“Yeah, but you got a lot more brains to work with than most of us, Reed.” Ben was already tired of the conversation. “Give us the short version when you get it figured out, so we can all get our fondest wishes.”
He waved and walked off down another hall, thinking about his fondest wish. It was still what it had been since the moment cosmic rays had scrambled up his genome: He wanted to be normal. But he wouldn’t be any good to the Fantastic Four if he was normal. Then he’d just be Ben Grimm from Yancy Street. Careful what you wish for, he told himself.
Still—maybe normal, blue-collar Ben Grimm would be worthy of Alicia.
Spider-Man and Johnny Storm were hanging out in a large room outside the living quarters. Spidey was his usual worried self—that was one of the things Ben liked about him. “What if we never get back, you know?” he was saying. “I mean—”
“Cut it out,” Johnny said. “The Fantastic Four have been in a lot of crazy cosmic situations. That’s how we became the FF in the first place, remember? We’ll handle it, and we’ll get back. No sweat.” Johnny leaned back on the couch and stretched luxuriously. That kid never worried.
You forgot one thing, Ben thought. On those missions, we had Suzie along. She was the glue that kept them all together. Plus, she could be real handy in a fight. Without her, Ben wasn’t sure how the team would handle the first real tough scrap they got into. They’d gone on missions before without all four of them present, but this was something new. Ben would have felt a lot better with Sue along.
He thought about joining their conversation, but right then Spider-Man looked up. Except he wasn’t looking at Ben.
“Something’s wrong,” Spider-Man said. He pointed. “Over there.” At the far end of the base, more than a mile from where they stood, light flared from an outlying structure.
“That’s our base’s power plant!” Johnny said.
“I’ll go check it out!” Spider-Man called, swinging into action.
Johnny burst into flame and flew toward a door leading outside to sound the alarm. “Careful, buddy,” he called back. “This is a little bigger than your average mugger.”
“I can handle it, tough guy,” Spider-Man said. “But, uh…hustle, will ya?”
He swung ahead faster than Ben could keep up, but a lot of the others had seen the giant number 4 Johnny had blazed in the sky outside their base. By the time Ben got to the power plant, he was running with most of the Avengers. Spider-Man was already inside.
As the team charged into the reactor control room, floating metal fragments wrapped themselves around Spidey, enclosing him, then bouncing him across the floor. The accountable party was obvious.
“Ladies and gents, may I present Magneto, Master of Magnetism,” Spider-Man shouted.
“There he is!” Hawkeye said, nocking and firing an arrow. Magneto flicked it aside, sending it ricocheting off a panel of machinery.
“None of you will touch me!” Magneto announced. He spread his arms wide and then brought them together, pulling huge chunks of the walls inward to collapse onto the charging heroes.
“Iron Man! She-Hulk!” Captain America shouted. “Thing! Brace the walls!”
Ben got under part of one of the walls with Iron Man next to him. Together they kept the rest of the team from getting squashed, with She-Hulk holding up the other side. But their approach to Magneto was blocked. Alerts blared.
“The reactor!” Reed shouted. He waved his arms, but his remaining words were lost in the shrieking alarms.
Ben was no genius, but he could put two and two together. Magneto had done something that was gonna blow the reactor. It would kill them all. “I got this end,” Rhodey said. “Go get him.”
Ben got mad. Maybe not Hulk mad—where was the big green guy, anyway?—but pretty damn mad. Plowing through the debris, he went after Magneto. Wasp zipped over his head, having shrunk herself small enough that she could find a faster way through the barrier.
“This party’s not over, Mags!” Ben shouted. “I ain’t got my dainty paws on you yet!”
“Me, neither,” Wasp said. Bioelectric energy crackled from her hands, ready to sting.
But Magneto just waved his hand and magnetically tugged together pieces of the walls and machinery, snapping them into a perfect sphere that surrounded and ensnared Wasp. He hesitated a moment, and Ben pushed forward. Then Magneto turned and pulled Wasp’s prison in his wake as he flew, but it was slowing him down. Ben charged across the room. In a couple more steps, he’d be close enough to—
That was when he got his fondest wish.
He felt the metamorphosis beginning from the outside in. His field of vision changed as the rocky brows of the Thing receded and became the normal human eyebrows of Benjamin Grimm, the pride of Yancy Street. His hands, outstretched and grasping for Magneto, shrank and became flesh—with five fingers again instead of four. He felt his immense might leaving him, replaced by the ordinary strength of a guy who had always kept himself in shape but wasn’t any super hero. Hair sprouted from his head. He felt the air on his skin. Ben fell to his knees, unaccustomed to moving so little mass with such a different center of gravity. He looked up at Magneto, sailing away without a care in the world, Wasp drawn behind him in her metal ball.
Then he looked at his hands. Man, he thought. It’s been a long time since I saw those. But why now?
He’d failed. Wasp was gone. He hadn’t stopped Magneto. Typical Ben Grimm, he thought. Always coming up just short.
In the back of his mind, though, he had another idea: If we ever get back to Earth, Alicia wouldn’t have to pity me anymore.
*
He was still sitting on the floor when the rest of the group got through the barrier of wreckage. “Ben! What—”
“Don’t ask me, Stretcho,” Ben said. “It just happened.”
“Like when Xavier started walking,” She-Hulk said. “Wishes are coming true.”
“Speaking of Xavier,” Spectrum said as she looped back down to land next to She-Hulk, “I hope everyone noticed that none of the X-Men showed up to fight Magneto. Guess that settles whose side they’re all on.”
“Not so
fast, Spectrum,” Captain America said. He turned to Reed, who was already examining the reactor. “Under control?” he asked. Reed nodded, though he looked grim. “Good,” Cap said. “ Now we can focus on solving the problems in front of us, not creating more. We need to find Wasp.”
“Magneto set the whole thing up so he could get her,” Iron Man said. “Am I wrong?”
“No, I think you’re right,” Captain America said. “He didn’t attack any of us. He just captured her and got out while we were trying to keep the power plant from cycling itself into an overload. What we don’t know is why.”
“So let’s go after him and find out,” Hawkeye said. “Shouldn’t be hard to track him, should it?”
“We won’t know until we try,” Captain America said. “But that’s not our only problem.”
They followed Cap to the elevator and up to the central control room, where Hulk was studying giant video screens that displayed real-time pictures of various parts of Battleworld. In one of them, Ben saw Galactus on top of a mountain.
“Galactus is giving off a strange field of energy,” Hulk said. “But I still can’t identify it.”
The next screen was filled with what looked like a powerful storm. “Judging from what Doctor Banner and I found out using these sensor screens,” Captain America said, “we’re going to have our hands full right here…and soon.”
THIRTEEN
MAGNETO knew better than to free the Wasp the moment he returned to his base. She would attack with all the fury of her namesake insect, and he would be forced to respond in kind. It was not how he wished their initial interaction to unfold. So instead he left her safe and secure in the sphere he had created, and he watched the storm.
He had never seen anything like it. The rain by itself would have pulverized many structures on Earth. The winds would have torn them off their foundations. And the lightning? It was a marvel, surely surpassing anything Ororo Munroe had ever summoned.
Unless it was she creating it? Or Thor? Magneto thought that unlikely. Thor would only exert his powers in battle—and even if such a storm were Ororo’s fondest wish, she would never endanger her comrades to bring it about. Although…perhaps even she was vulnerable to the blandishments of the Beyonder.