Chapter Text
New York City looked like it had just been struck by a tornado. Or it would, that is, if said tornado was focused solely on Avengers Tower, was composed entirely of lightning bolts, and held a major grudge against anything dressed in a supersuit of some sort.
But it was not a tornado that had obliterated Avengers Tower. It was not a tornado that had single-handedly taken down the Earth's Mightiest Heroes.
It was a man.
A man clad in dull gray steel, with a tattered green cape fluttering behind him like a candle in the wind.
An aura of raw power followed him down the street as he stalked toward the fallen Avengers with victory in his step. The Avengers who, despite all their power and numbers and fame, had failed.
They'd failed. Been beaten bloody and unconscious right there on the street, by the very man standing before them now.
And the crowd of pale-faced civilians, gathered in the alleyways and sidewalks and far ends of the street, simply watched.
What could they do, after all, against the man who defeated the Avengers?
Absolutely nothing.
So they whispered and cried and silently held their phones out to record as the gray-and-green figure stopped in front of the bloody, bruised, and nearly unconscious superheroes. As he bent menacingly in front of Iron Man, whose protective armor was all but destroyed. As he lifted a heavy metal boot and let it fall on Iron Man's rapidly rising and falling chest, grinding metal against metal.
He called himself Doom.
Unfortunately, it was an apt description.
“So these are your so-called heroes?” Doom's mocking words echoed through the eerily silent street, accentuated by the crackling of the numerous small fires littering the pavement. “These useless, disappointing, mortal men?”
The howling wind was his only answer. Every voice that ached to speak up, to defend their heroes, remained silent. They had all seen what Doom had done to the Avengers. Earth's Mightiest Heroes, pulverized in a thirty-minute battle.
If this man could take down the Avengers, he could certainly take down any Regular Joe who was stupid enough to stand up to him.
“They were bound to fail you,” the villain mused on. “At one point or another, they were going to fall short. But, like fools, you put your unwavering trust in them anyways. And thus you have been let down.”
Finally, he removed his heel from Iron Man's chest. Those nearest to them tried not to shudder at the gasped wheeze of a breath that could be heard from inside the hero's helmet. Some, however, were relieved at the sound. It was the only sure sign they had that their hero was still alive.
“I will not let you down,” Doom continued, pacing slowly down the length of the street. “I will provide for you, the way that these fools never did. They called themselves the 'Avengers'.” Doom scoffed. “What a fitting name. All they did was avenge. But they never prevented. They never protected. They swooped in to save you once their failures had already resulted in disaster, but they failed to stop these disasters from happening.”
Finally, the metal-clad feet came to a stop in the center of the street, where the largest mass of passerby had gathered to observe.
“But under my rule, I assure you, all...issues will be dealt with swiftly and thoroughly, in order to prevent such disasters.”
Nobody missed the underlying message. Defy me, and you will be punished. Stand up against me, and you will be cut down.
It kept even the most vocal, outspoken New Yorkers silent.
“Today is a remarkable day in history!” Doom announced, lifting his arms to the sky. Glowing, blue electricity crackled around them all, dancing from the plentiful metal pikes littered on the ground or buried in nearby buildings. “For today, the incompetent Avengers have been knocked from their golden thrones! Today, an old regime dies! Today, the rule of the Avengers ends! Today—the rule of Doom begins!”
And nobody lifted a finger to stop it.
Not a single person present, whether they were shaking uncontrollably in the crowd or raising their arms in victory as electric sparks rained down around them, really knew what quite to expect next. But what did happen next, nobody possibly could have anticipated.
Someone laughed.
It was just a little snicker, something that normally would've been lost in the din of the crowd, but it rang like a gunshot in the deafeningly quiet street.
It didn't go unnoticed, least of all by Doom.
Doom seemed to freeze in place, which looked frankly ridiculous, considering the fact that his hands were still lifted to the skies in the overly dramatic fashion typical of supervillains. It may have been that absurd sight that caused the person to dissolve into full-on giggles.
The innocent sound was quite out of place in the otherwise grave scene.
Doom had to scan the crowd for several tense seconds before he finally located him. The grinning teenage boy, shaking with poorly repressed laughter.
When he noticed Doom staring at him, he only laughed harder.
“I--I'm sorry, Doom?” he managed to get out, between gasps for breath. “That's what you decided to call yourself? Doom?”
Doom, for the first time, appeared to be baffled. Everyone else just stared in wide-eyed, slack-jawed horror at the child who was surely about to be murdered before their eyes.
“Not that that's not a cool villain name or anything,” the boy assured the villain, “but if the goal is to rule the world or whatever, I gotta tell you, it's not the best campaign strategy.”
Doom just blinked uncertainly behind the mask.
“Not catching my drift?” The teenager lifted an eyebrow at the supervillain. “No? Okay, wait here. Watch. I'll demonstrate.”
He stepped out of the crowd—right past the gaping onlookers, right past Doom himself—and strode confidently in the direction opposite the unconscious Avengers. For what was most likely a death march, his stride was ridiculously casual.
Suddenly he turned around, puffed out his chest, and waved his arms dramatically in the air. It was a clear mockery of Doom's actions just a minute ago. “I have defeated the evil Avengers who protected you! I will care for you! I will provide for you! I will be a great ruler! And my name—” the boy's mock baritone cracked beneath a giggle—“is Doom.” He let his arms swing back down to his sides, then shrugged. “I mean, with a name like that, your rule is doomed from the start.”
“But—” Doom sputtered, his voice sounding very different when it was riddled with uncertainty rather than booming with grandiose declarations. “But that's my name. It was given to me at birth. It is my destiny.”
“Wait wait wait, Doom's your real name?” The boy's eyes widened with joy. “Oh my--oh, man, I think that's even better!"
At this point, everybody present had their phones out and trained on the boy. He may have been about to die, but he certainly deserved to be remembered for his bravery. Or stupidity.
It was also at this point that Doom lost his patience. This was supposed to be his big moment, after all, and he was being publicly mocked by a child. So, fists clenching with an awful screech of metal on metal, he stormed up to the boy.
The entire crowd tensed simultaneously. This was it. This was the moment they were going to watch a child get murdered by a supervillain.
Yet again, nobody did anything about it.
Doom stopped right in front of the boy and leaned forward, towering at least two heads over him. It looked incredibly intimidating to everyone watching, but the boy just lifted an unimpressed eyebrow at him. “Choose your next words carefully, boy,” Doom seethed, “for they may be your last!”
One moment, the kid was just staring nonchalantly at the raging supervillain, looking rather unimpressed with the threat on his life. The next, his entire demeanor changed. His bored brown eyes widened, his quirked lips fell open, and the hands on his hips clapped to his face as he squealed in fangirlish glee. “Oh my gosh, the Avengers!”
Doom's eyes widened visibly, even behind the helmet. Without a moment's hesitation, he whipped around to face them, preparing himself for a second epic battle. Preparing himself to be met with the sight of ten very awake, very angry Avengers.
But the Avengers were still sprawled out on the other end of the street.
Doom, for the umpteenth time that day, was utterly confused.
“What is the meaning of—”
CLANG!
The entire street watched in mute shock as Doom slumped to the pavement, out cold.
The teen simply lowered the metal pole that he had picked up while Doom was distracted. The same metal pole that he had just slammed over the supervillain's head.
A dazzling grin lit up the boy's face. “Wow, that actually worked? Geez, villains these days, so gullible...”
Carelessly, he tossed the metal bar over his shoulder, ignoring as it clattered against the pavement. Ignoring the awed stares of the onlookers, the cameras still trained on him, the flames licking at the concrete around him.
He just stood there with his arms crossed, seeming to consider the unconscious supervillain for a few moments, then waved at the police officer standing just yards away. “Excuse me, ma'am?” The boy's polite, almost shy tone was a far cry from the bold, mocking one that he had used when talking to Doom. “You might wanna tie this guy up. And don't forget to give him a power dampener, or he'll just escape and start this whole mess all over again.”
The officer couldn't bring herself to answer in any way, or do anything other than gape dumbly at the kid. It was about all anybody could do.
“Well,” the boy clapped his hands, the sound echoing almost deafeningly through the dead-silent street. “Anyways. Glad we avoided that. That could have been a total disaster.”
And without another word, the kid turned on his heel and simply left.