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The Charismatic Life and Tyrannical Times of Victor Von Doom, Esq. (Part SIX)
So: where were we, then...?
Oh. Right.
Doctor Doom had finally conquered the entire freakin' world.
"A World Lost!" [THE CHAMPIONS #16; November, 1977; Bill Mantlo, writer; Bob Hall, author] picks up scant heartbeats from where SUPER-VILLAIN TEAM-UP #14 left off: with an arrogant Magneto (a.k.a. "King Gooberus the First") and a frantically leaping and dodging Beast (a.k.a. "The Guy Magneto Stupidly Picked Instead of Captain America or Thor. The Big Feeb.") squaring off versus the not-inconsiderable amassed might of Hercules; the Ghost Rider; the Black Widow; and the rest of Marvel's short-lived super-team, the Champions.
Magneto and Hercules -- each one recognizing, in the other, an ego very nearly as towering and grotesque as his own -- take an immediate and visceral dislike to one another; with each focusing the chiefest portion of his energies and animosities upon the other, in turn.
What this means for the saner and more reasonable Beast, unfortunately, is: whatever faint chance he and Magneto might once have had to present the specifics of their case to the rest of the Champions is -- oh, how you Americans say? --
-- well and truly poopied.
"Well, now," an aggravated Beast opines to his unwelcome comrade-in- arms, during a lull in all the ensuing violence and carnage; "... maybe if we've all cooled out a little, we can get down to biz! Like: how do we join together to stop Doom?"
"Doom be hanged," an enraged Magneto splutters, by way of response. "I want Hercules' head!"
"Swell," the Beast shoots back. "You wanna wallop the Champs while Doom steals the world! You're a puppet, Mags... you know that?"
Meanwhile -- speaking of "puppets" -- Victor Von DDoom is pulling his (now-)patented Shari Lewis routine in Washington, D.C.; yanking the mental chains of an unsuspecting President Jimmy Carter; Secretary of State Cyrus Vance; and all the rest of the Joint Chiefs of Staff.
Just because he can, mind.
Fortunately (or unfortunately, I suppose; depending
upon your outlook in matters such as these), not even so magnificent an intellect
as Victor Von Doom's can fathom fully the ways passing strange of American politics.
"Cease your incessant jabbering" the furious monarch thunders, slamming armored hands against the polished wood of the Presidential desk; "... all of you! Never in Latveria did I have to put up with such insanity! There, my subjects obeyed me out of fear! Here, I cannot tell whether you obey because of my neuro-gas... or out of your own revolting self-interest!"
Storming out into the White House Rose Garden, Von Doom is greeted by the awe-inspiring sight of none other than the Incredible Hulk bounding towards him with grim determination.
"We'll protect you, Your Highness," a fast-moving phalanx of dark-suited men announce, forming a protective circle around Von Doom. "We're Secret Service!"
"Get your hands off me, you blithering idiots!" Von Doom rages, in response. "Doom needs protection from no man! [The Hulk] has arrived in response to a command I issued through a holographic projection!"
(For those of you keeping score at home, then: Doctor Doom now controls Everyone In the Whole Wide World, including your mom... AND the Incredible Hulk, to boot.
(... and when your aged and embittered Unca Cheeks pauses to recollect how
he couldn't even turn a halfway decent profit selling GRIT ["The Nation's
Newspaper"] door-to-bloody-door...!)
All that's needed now, story-wise, is for grumpy ol' Magneto to stage a dramatic (re)appearance upon the scene.
Nothing if he isn't reassuringly predictable, Our Lad Magneto.
"I have traveled the world over to confront you, Von Doom," the Master of Magnetism blusters (fresh from having bolted out of L.A. like a scalded cat, after Hercules had thumped on him for the eighteenth or twentieth time); "... and to destroy you for humiliating me!"
(... and this, mind you, from a guy willing to wear that asinine @#$%ing
fondue pot of a helmet of his out in public...!)
Mere moments after that, however: the aforementioned Lion of Olympus -- along with all the rest of his Champions pals'n'gals -- also shows up on the White House lawn (courtesy of one of Darkstar's time-and-space warping "black energy" spheres); occasioning, in turn, a dim spark of memory within the cramped and squalid recesses of the Hulk's all-but-vestigial brain.
"Hulk fought Big Man before," the man-beast snarls, lunging towards a startled and unsuspecting Hercules. "Fight now, Big Man... if you can!"
"Great Zeus!" Hercules thinks, reeling from the crushing force of the brute's thunderous blow. "What a glorious battle this shall be!"
(It's not all his fault, really. Got dropped on his head an awful
lot, back in the days of his beardless, demi-godly youth. Dryads
and naiads being the naturally crappy baby- sitters that they are, I
mean.)
A confident-in-victory Von Doom orders the mist-ensorcled Champions to: "Slay the mutant Magneto!"; the Angel, Black Widow and the rest all advance menacingly towards their commanded target --
... and a seriously, seriously confused Ghost Rider turns around and says: "... huh...?!?"
Being pretty much an ambulatory dead-type guy, you see: the hell-spawned Ghost Rider need never breathe...
... meaning (of course) that he'd never inhaled any of Von Doom's confounding "neuro-gas"...
... AND meaning (finally) that -- with the sole exceptions of
the surly, self- motivated Magneto and the sorely out-numbered (and out-gunned)
Beast -- he's the ONLY dog in the yard sans one of Von Doom's neural
"leashes" choking off the air from his mental trachea.
Finding themselves suddenly standing back-to-back against the combined might of the remaining Champions and the United States Army, Ghost Rider and the Beast set about to swapping brittle bon mots with one another, in the time-honored tradition of Marvel Comics super-heroes ever since FANTASTIC FOUR #1.
"Gosh," the Beast exclaims, as his hellish helpmate sets up a protective flame barrier. "You'd be great at backyard barbecues!"
"Do not mock the power of Hell!" the malevolent motorcyclist warns, with a bone-throated growl.
"You've betrayed the Champions and Doctor Doom, Ghost Rider!" the Iceman shouts, attacking the free-thinking fellows from behind.
"Now there's a conflict of interest if I've ever heard one," the Beast shoots back, sarcastically.
(Say what you will, re: the Marvel Comics offerings of the Silver
and Bronze Ages, by golly, by jingo... but: get any two [or more]
of their cheerily antagonistic characters together for more than a couple of
pages, and -- voila! -- it was "Open Mic Night" at The Comedy
Store!) (Two drink minimum; remember to tip those waitresses,
dammit! They've been good to you; you be good to them, hear...?)
With the Beast finding himself, mere pages later, moments away from being quick-fried to a crackly crunch, courtesy of one of Doom's energy blasts; a desperate Ghost Rider lets loose with a full-throttle hellfire barrage, right smack-dab on The Bad Doctor's metal-clad kisser...
... and Victor Von Doom... shrieks.
"CURSE YOU, DEMON!" the smouldering and enraged monarch rages (all but annihilating the poor, luckless Ghost Rider with a final, frenzied energy assault, in the process) (... boy... lucky for him he's already Mostly Dead, huh...?). "Faceplate... must... remove it! Must have... air! But, without the air- filters in my mask, I'll... inhale my own neuro-gas!"
Which he does, of course.
Oopsie.
Without Von Doom's conscious control (which -- given that he's now pretty much occupied full-time with Drooling and Staring Goggle-Eyed At Nothing In Particular -- doesn't seem like much of a "gimme," really), everyone begins to shake off the narcotic effects of their former ruler's enfeebling neuro-mists.
"I have... won!" a gleeful Magneto exults (forgetting, for the moment, that he had about as much to do with the dramatic denouement hereabouts as your weary and wheezing Unca Cheeks has to do with the Atlanta Braves' bullpen). "I have wrestled with Doom for a world, and taken the prize from his grasp! The world is free once more!"
(Oh, lawsy Jesus... the delusional dweeb's dopey ol' helmet
is too tight. Now he thinks he's Captain bloody America
-- !)
The story ends on the odd and unsettling note of an entire planet still (technically) under the mental sway and dominion of the man known and feared as Doctor Victor Von Doom...
... including the (now) brain-addled Von Doom himself.
"Doom... commands!" the dull-eyed despot murmurs, lost and bewildered in an endless mental fog of his own making. "But... I... am Doom! Command... and I must... obey! Yet... why does Doom not command? WHY -- ?!?"
Eh? What's that I hear some of you muttering, way back there in the less-than-expensive seats of our swank and luxurious Unca Cheeks Memorial Amphitheater and Transsexual Petting Zoo...?
"Doom lost," did he? Really...?
Go back and re-read that final page scan... and think again, kiddies.
Victor Von Doom STILL rules the world...
... even if he's (temporarily) forgotten that little fact.
In other words:
... bite me, Thanos.
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