Chapter Text
“ All I can give you is time .”
.
The laughter of the elite flows like champagne, carrying with it an air of sophistication and indulgence.
Antoinette Stark-more, known simply as Toni to those closest to her, moves through the crowd in a crimson backless gown that radiates confidence and wealth. With a drink in hand and red lips curled in amusement, she glides like a queen surveying her court. Before dessert is even served, she has already cornered a senator, silenced a lobbyist, and flirted with a three-star general.
She is untouchable—until she sees him.
Tall and broad-shouldered, he stood out in midnight-black silk, a green tie, and silver cufflinks. His handsome face drew attention in a room where everyone knew everyone. He moved with deliberate grace, exuding control yet showing subtle tension in his posture.
Toni didn't recognize him, which made her even more curious.
He stood apart from the other guests, silently admiring a large painting, champagne in hand, never mingling.
She sauntered over naturally, arching a playful brow as her red nails flexed against the glass. "Let me guess," she said, "you're here for the shrimp or the missiles?"
Twin pools of dazzling emerald-green eyes met Toni’s gaze, set in perfect features with just the right tan. Watching those inky lashes flutter, Mr. tall, dark & mysterious didn’t seem to recognize her at first.
"You're…Antoinette Stark." A low voice—smooth, articulate, baritone perfection—cut through the air, its tone both commanding and unnervingly intimate. The way he said it though, that oh-so-slight pause, piqued Toni’s curiosity even more. Who didn’t know her, especially at a gala she was hosting? She might have been more offended if he weren’t so attractive.
She responded coyly, "And you are quite the looker, I must say," her words laced with a playful charm. The lights, though not overly bright to cause a headache, seemed to fall just right, casting an almost ethereal glow on the person before her.
He smiles charmingly, taking a polite sip of champagne before speaking, and Toni’s heart gives a strange little flutter of excitement. "You’ll have to forgive me, I’m afraid. I’ve been somewhat reclusive regarding such gatherings until now."
Toni squinted slightly, sensing a faint kernel of truth in his words—an odd realization given the venue and the average net worth of those present. She was almost certain she would have recognized any high-ranking socialite who claimed not to feel like "going out."
She sidles up closer to him and says, "Right, well, you're here now. Thank goodness you finally decided to crawl out of whatever dusty basement you kept yourself hidden in up until this point. Also, is that an accent I sense? It sounds...maybe European, perhaps?"
He doesn’t flinch at their closeness, which makes Toni’s smile widen slightly in satisfaction. “Russia? Bulgaria?”
“Close,” he replies with a polite smile. “Latverian.”
Toni exclaims, "Oh… Oh! Yes, I’ve always wanted to go there!" recovering quickly. Clearly a lie, but one she's sure she got away with. The knowing smile on the mysterious man’s face, however, says otherwise.
Toni opts for a distraction, hoping to steer the conversation toward safer, more familiar territory.
"And does Mr. 'Latveria' have a name I can call you by?"
He offers a hand, dramatic and poised—like a magician before a trick. "Doom. Victor Doom."
The reaction is immediate, and Toni can’t help herself. She arches a brow in slight disbelief, her expression tinged with mockery as she scoffs.
“Is that your real name,” she asks, “or are you trying to impress me with something straight out of a Bond villain catalog?”
Rather than take offense, Doom—Victor, rather—chuckles calmly.
“I find owning your reputation is half the battle,” he replies. “And you, Miss Stark, should know that better than anyone.”
Oh, she likes this one. Which is suspicious.
“Flattery this early?” Toni retorts, her smile growing more genuine. “At least buy me a drink first.”
That strange little flutter returns when Victor decides to play along.
“Would you believe I’ve been trying to work up the nerve all evening?”
“No,” she says matter-of-factly, unashamed to call him out. “You don’t strike me as the type who lacks nerve.”
Their eyes hold a moment too long.
Toni's voice carries a hint of eagerness as she asks, "Did you want to get out of here?" Her gaze lingers on him, the suggestion of solitude hanging in the air. "Maybe somewhere a little less crowded?"
Victor's smile deepens, his charm undiminished as he replies, "A tempting offer, I must say." He pauses, his tone light but firm. "However, it is one I must decline this time. I only came to make a brief appearance, you see, and to 'test the waters' after my extended absence from the social scene."
Toni struggles to hide her disappointment as he excuses himself, already heading for the exit before she can think of something else to say. She wonders if she might see him again.
Victor stepped outside and inhaled the crisp, cool night air, feeling a wave of relief wash over him.
He hadn’t planned to make contact so soon, preferring to observe from a distance and familiarize himself with the surroundings. To prepare.
He hadn’t expected her to approach him.
Victor’s eyes flicker, their green hue momentarily shifting to a deep black, hinting at something ancient and powerful stirring beneath the surface. He continues on, descending the steps and making his way to his car without hesitation. He barely greeted the driver before sliding into the car, his thoughts racing ahead, already devising possible outcomes, plans, and strategies. If he attended another one of these events, would Stark seek him out again? If so, he needed to tread carefully.
He wouldn't let anything slip, he couldn't afford it.
–
The air tastes of endings, sharp and final. A shimmer of green fire dances through the darkness, its fractals twisting like silver threads in the void. He lifts his eyes as the void pulses, alive with an ancient rhythm.
Slowly standing, wary, he believes he was in the midst of his last breath when he awoke.
Gone was the mask, the cloak, and the scarred flesh of his face, making breathing no longer feel so difficult. Air came into his lungs more easily now, and he was able to see things perhaps more clearly than he once had.
As he senses the familiar pull of something not human in the distance, he speaks with a steady and commanding voice, addressing the unseen presence: "You've gone through considerable trouble to summon me to... whatever this place is. Speak, whoever you are."
She steps from the shadows, her presence commanding and timeless. Her form, draped in a cloak of darkness that seems to bleed starlight, exudes an otherworldly elegance. Her face, a paradox of concealment and revelation, defies comprehension—shifting endlessly between states of existence and absence, as though her very essence eludes the grasp of human perception. She is no mere skeleton, but a queen—a being whose shifting, ethereal nature challenges the limits of mortal understanding.
Her voice, a haunting raspy whisper, seemed to bypass her lips entirely, as if the very air around her warped to carry her words directly into his mind. "You have your mother's eyes, child of Latveria."
Victor’s fists clenched, his knuckles turning white as he fought to maintain composure. The mention of his mother always struck a nerve, a raw wound he thought he had buried deep within himself.
“You knew my mother?” he asked, his voice low and guarded, betraying a hint of vulnerability beneath the steel of his demeanor.
"Yes," she confirms, stepping closer. "Tell me, child of Latveria—if I gave you the one thing you've longed for most, would you still curse my name?"
–
Victor is jolted back to reality by the announcement of their arrival home. Despite his thoughts being chaotic, he glances at his hands, flexing his fingers slightly. A faint green spark dances within them, concealing something far more powerful and ancient than he has ever known.
Evidence that what happened was real-that he hadn't just imagined being there, seeing the being, or hearing what was said. Victor's gaze eventually shifted upward and back toward the window, where he observed the world outside—noting the similarities and differences to what he knew, reminding himself that it was an entirely different universe.
Victor’s eyes flicker, the green in them pulsing to deep black for a moment. Something ancient stirs beneath the surface. He curses, a pounding migraine already building, "Who knew Death was such a bitch."
The headache worsened sharply, as if in response to his words.
Pepper Potts looks up, blinking, as Toni saunters up the stairs to greet her, pushing a now-full champagne glass toward her. Somehow, Pepper just knows something has happened at the gala—good or bad, most likely the latter.
Toni's early departure from the lab was already concerning, but seeing her drink directly from her private stash left Pepper Potts bracing for the press conferences that could follow.
Toni leaned in with a mischievous grin, holding her attention. "I come bearing gifts. And hypotheticals," she announced, her tone playful yet enigmatic.
Pepper's brow furrowed slightly, her curiosity tinged with caution. "Should I be concerned?" she asked, her voice steady despite the uncertainty.
Toni's smile, wide and dazzling, offered no reassurance. "Always," she replied.
Toni then moves to lounge on the nearby couch, swirling the amber liquid in her glass, humming thoughtfully.
"So... let's say—purely for science—you meet a guy."
"A guy?" Pepper interrupted, already wary.
Toni nodded, taking a sip of her drink before continuing.
"Tall. Polished. Mysterious European accent. Smiles like he invented chess and is just waiting for the rest of us to catch up." Pepper gave her a look, which Toni chose to ignore. As always.
"Uh-huh, and would this hypothetical maybe be the same person you mentioned on the limo ride back to the penthouse a few nights ago after the gala, and then again when you canceled that defense meeting in Switzerland?" Pepper asked in a matter-of-fact tone, already knowing the answer while Toni blinked.
"I haven't mentioned him that often, have I?"
"Only briefly," Pepper said, amused. "You described him that first night as, let's see... 'I didn't even know him. He was just there. Like a glitch in the Matrix. Appeared out of nowhere, flirted like a Bond villain, then disappeared before I could Google him.'"
"Okay," Toni said, starting to look exasperated. "I'm pretty sure I didn't sound that whiny."
"Pretty sure you were drunk," Pepper said with a smile.
"Hey, I can hold my liquor, thank you very much," Toni replied, her tone mock-serious. "But if I was drunk, it was only because I needed to forget that guy's cheesy pickup lines."
Pepper raised an eyebrow. "Cheesy pickup lines? I thought he was a Bond villain."
"Same thing," Toni said with a dramatic sigh. "All charm and no substance."
"Is that why you wanted me to investigate Latveria?" Pepper asked, her tone a mix of mockery and seriousness.
"No," Toni replied, perhaps too quickly. "I just...realized I've never had the chance to negotiate a business deal with a country that's basically ruled by a supervillain. Seemed like a unique opportunity."
"Actually," Pepper interjects softly, producing a vanilla folder, "your supposed 'Bond villain' is, in fact, quite the humanitarian."
Toni comes darting over, looking at the photos Pepper secured of various charity events. Events she herself was aware of but had never made a point of attending, mostly because they were located in regions where a few public schools and community centers would make little difference in turning things around.
“In fact, most of the once-ruined surrounding territories are quite grateful for Latveria’s support,” Pepper affirms. “He’s helped pull a number of the less fortunate, who most seemed to think wouldn’t be able to stand on their own for long, really turn things around.”
“So then,” Toni murmurs, holding one of the photos with Victor clearly standing in the shot, “he’s not a Bond villain?”
Pepper’s only response is a sigh, shaking her head fondly as Toni scours through the papers and photos, a small smile playing on her lips.