27 The Good Son
Obligatory Disclaimer : I do not own anything (except maybe OC characters) all characters, places, worlds, universes…etc mentioned here belong to their respective owners and/or companies.
This is purely a work of fiction. Not meant to offend or incite, but to entertain and (maybe) inspire.
*.*.*.*.*.
THE GOOD SON
*.*.*.*.*.
The streets of Sokovia had never known peace. The embers of war still smolder within the land; skies stained black with the particulate remains of incinerated bodies and infrastructure, the waters dyed red from rust and blood.
This land will die; the people know this to be true and so do their dreary spirits. "Sokovia will fall into pieces," claimed an aged crone dragging her basket of rock bread as she walked. "Unless our king comes," she laughed. None listened to her words, she was just an old woman whose mind was failing her, those few undisturbed by starvation reasoned.
The people yearned for the peace their ancestors once dwelt with. For solace, for the conflicts to cease, for grass to once again grow on scorched land, for the air to not reek of gunpowder, noxious smog and eye watering chemicals. For sweet food and clean water.
The wishes of these tired and broken ones remained unanswered but perhaps not for long.
In the capital square of Novi Grad, stood a man, none knew how he appeared or even why. He was adorned in a glinting black–silver armor, one that was streamlined to his muscular and mighty build, on his back was a viridian cloak that matched the glow of the circular disk on his chest and on the borders of his shoulders. He seemed like a futuristic knight, a regal king of a great and boundless nation. His very aura demanded utmost respect and inspired supplication.
He stood. Arms crossed and waiting, right in the square, emanating power and purpose and a certain type of fiery warmth. He was the sun. And people gathered towards him. Some because they were drawn to him, some out of curiosity, and some because they just wanted to know what the hell was going on.
The crowd grew from one, to ten, to a hundred and then more. As many as could fit within the square. And for those that couldn't, they stood on rooftops of dilapidated homes and the peaks of crumbling monuments. They stood with rapt attention, waiting for this man in armor to speak.
Beneath the hood of his cloak, past the metal mask that hid his features, eyes shone. Wherever those glowing gold rings landed, they caused goosebumps to grow and wills to falter.
"I am your salvation." He announced, nay, declared with such confidence and conviction that those gathered here held it to be true.
It made no logical sense; why would anyone believe this stranger? As bold as he was, he was just a man in metal armor. What was it that drove them to place their trust in him and his words? Why were they so eager to believe?
The man wasn't just that. He did look, act and perhaps reason like one, but they knew that he was more. They couldn't explain it, it was past them. Most would chalk it up to the air around him, his aura and temperament.
Perhaps even the man did not fully understand the effect he had on others. The fact that he was a god—a young one, but nevertheless still a god. One not born into his divinity, but a now semi-mortal who sought transcendence and was a step ever closer to it.
Eve watched the live video feed relayed out of Novi Grad by the nano-drones. Did they even understand how lucky they were, to be led by none other than her boss?
This was a moment where he'd chuckle, or even laugh, he had the habit of doing it in the most inappropriate of settings. Maybe it was just his way of showing how sedentary it was all to him. He existed like someone who wasn't just of this world, as though his very existence had gleamed of the secrets that knitted the plane called reality into a stable fabric. He had seen past the seams and threads and knew something no one else did.
This is almost done with.
She restructured the obsolete fractured consciousness—within an even more obsolete mass of mainframe supercomputers— stealthily downloading the information she needed to further her boss's plans and the entire database just because. Leaving the broken virtual intelligence that thought itself alive and living, as she found it. She would've opted to destroy it and the pseudo cultic organization built around it, but the boss had plans, and whatever those plans were, she doubted they'd be good for Hydra.
Boss was already in control of Sokovia. Military despots and political officials who didn't fit his vision were eliminated, as were any other officials stupid enough to resist his takeover.
Of course, not everything boiled down to physical might, the boss had to make massive investments into the nation's basically nonexistent treasury. It did help that Hammer Industries was a globe spanning conglomerate, but the money put into this failed was a significant chunk of their resources—one they would have to expend effort—effort they could be using to accomplish other things— to replenish.
This was the cost of buying and owning a country. She accepted his words on the matter.
He did own the country when it came down to it. And with the papers being drafted and ratified at this moment, it was soon to be a finalized and legalized matter.
"Begin" The technorganic woman commanded. A fleet of armored vehicles broke into the capital city, soldiers adorned in faceless helmets, dark protective vests and silver rifles alighted the various vehicles in a practiced order. Filing themselves before the dilapidated church that stood right in the center of the city.
Gasps flitted through the crowds as they assumed the worst. Mothers drew their children close, and husbands and fathers stood before their wives and family. Most were ready to die for those they loved. Many more however huddled behind the man in the armor, their instincts told them to seek refuge in one greater than themselves.
Eve hurried along with her search; the distraction provided by the spectacle allowed her to locate two young adults her boss was interested in. She approached through the same open window they were looking out of, unable to even notice her existence as she was currently shrunk down to the size of a tick.
She silently materialized behind them in full form, knowing that they had yet to even feel the air shift behind them. She struck with her fingers poised like viper fangs, accurately applying a vice-like grip to the carotid arteries of both twins, temporarily restricting blood flow to their brains and causing them to pass out from oxygen deprivation in one swift motion.
She caught their unconscious bodies before they even hit the floor.
'Boss, door to base.'
A glowing rectangular platform emerged beneath her feet, she placed the bodies with the rising platform, watching the two disappear as it rose. Transporting the twins to the Justin Hammer's new base, where robots on standby restrained, sedated and carried them off to specialized cells.
Eve switched the feed to focus back on her boss. His inauguration was in process and she was surprised—wondering how her boss had managed to get the pope himself into this. If they were to broadcast the actual events taking place as it were to the outside world, she knew it would garner much shock and attention.
The man of God offered his prayers to the Lord and held up a plate of glistening virgin oil, prompting Justin Hammer to pull back his cloak, allowing all to see the featureless metal mask on his face. He further retracted the armor plates down his neck, exposing a headful of short chestnut colored hair.
The oil was poured, giving his hair a strange lustrous gleam, the man himself attributed it to the sunlight—to everyone else however this was an almost physical manifestation of glory.
Papers were signed and stamped upon the altar erected outside the barely standing doors of the broken church. A crown was brought forward, a simple thing not unlike a laurel wreath made of pure gold and encrusted with emerald gems.
"In He who I serve, with His heavenly hosts above as witness, with His children gathered here as proof of his glory; this humble servant crowns the one bearing the surname Vonn Doom as the one true king of this land and all the things within it, from the birds of the air, to the beasts of the land; from those yet unborn, to those standing witness here today. Amen."
The moment the crown rested upon his head, an imperceptible wave spread outwards propagating all through the congregation and to the very edges of Sokovia. It was divinity radiating from the young godly demon that now had his very own kingdom. A divinity so potent that the crown dissolved into a ghost image—an ethereal, glowing laurel with blinking green stars that hovered over his head.
The man of God retreated, this was beyond what he assumed possible. There were many uncertainties surrounding this man and he wished to no longer get involved. His part of the bargain had been paid for the recovery for an instrumental holy relic.
Eve picked up residual wisps of an unmeasurable energy signature fade away on her intersensory scanners. Something had borne witness to his inauguration, and whatever it was, it was immensely powerful.
She heard him mutter unintelligible words under his breath, and then he stood, a fist raised high.
"Latveria is reborn." Power soaked words invigorated the air with the fire of passion.
"All hail Doom. Long live the King!" Someone shouted.
"ALL HAIL DOOM. LONG LIVE THE KING!" The people roared in echo, as loud as their lungs allowed them to.
"ALL HAIL DOOM. LONG LIVE THE KING!" Over, and over again
"ALL HAIL DOOM. LONG LIVE THE KING!"
"All hail the king indeed," The sorcerer supreme whispered, wondering why powerful entities threw a momentary gaze at the man. It didn't matter, not yet anyway. She reasoned, leaving as she appeared; without a single trace.
* * *
Within a highly advanced mobile military base floating undetected thousands of feet in the air;
A mutated frost giant smirked in his glass cage, practicing poetic nuances.
A god glared at the secret agent that had once unlawfully restrained him, placing his hammer on the desk as a dare.
A super soldier was growing increasingly annoyed at the attempts of mockery thrown at him by an insufferable billionaire genius who'd just made his arrival.
A scientist with a destructive alter ego pushed his glasses back up his nose bridge as the red-haired assassin/spy smiled at him from a seat away.
And on the bridge of the ship, the super spy with an eye patch made another call to the world's most prolific inventor and businessman, this time the call did not go unanswered.
*.*.*.*.*.
The return of the King. All is well, the balance is restored. Let us proceed to new pastures.
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