quitethecharmer:

The appointment had been made remarkably quickly, as politics go. Vincent, accompanied by Kristoff and carrying several folders in a briefcase, arrived at the Genoshan Consulate.

"Vincent Vernard, Junior Ambassador for Latveria, to see Andrew Summers."

quitethecharmer:

Vincent was considerably annoyed. Not only had the Daily Bugle apparently been compromised into running an unauthorized personal ad about him, which they couldn't account for the origin of, but he'd only gotten one response! He wasn't sure which aspect irritated him more. That was when the building alarms began going off. A security panel flashed the message "Code Steel Green".

A Doombot was in the lobby.

Vincent gathered his nearest scientific and magical gear and hurried down.

flieswithfire:

The incursion into the Weapon X facility had resulted in the liberation of its inhabitants - one of them being Evie. During the chaos, she'd managed to slip through the building to a door... a door to the outside. The collar inhibiting her abilities was removed, broken into tiny shards, and Evie was free to use her powers as she wanted. Finally. Fear, panic and the need to flee had her lifting off the ground and flying as fast as she could away from the building. She didn't have any direction in mind, hell, she didn't even know where she was, but she wanted to be away. Far, far away.

( Fly away, Firefly )

third_reich:

It was a normal summer day in New York City. The thermometer was at 80, the sun was out and there was relatively no humidity. It was a perfect summer day.

A bright light appeared in the middle of Central Park and started to grow. It expanded rapidly and grew to the size of a two story house. The tear in space in time was still for a moment and then things began to emerge from it. A giant robot walked through with guns ready. A moment later a second robot emerged, this one looked like a giant flying manta ray. It was followed by another that looked like a giant flying head.

The three robots were followed by a division of soldiers, each armed with automatic rifles and wearing uniforms with swastikas. They marched out of the portal and split in half. One group went east and the rest went west. Following the soldiers came a few other individuals. The Red Skull, Masterman, Warrior Woman, Iron Cross, and U-Man came out of the portal.

"Attack!" the Red Skull shouted. "Destroy the city!"

quitethecharmer:

It pained him to admit it, but Vincent had been somewhat remiss lately. In spite of their decision to date one another exclusively, he'd hardly been able to make any time for Asleif. It wasn't as if she'd been hounding him for it, as she seemed thoroughly absorbed in her world travels, but it bothered him, and rightfully so.

A painstakingly thorough clearing of his schedule for a day had been arranged, along with putting together an itinerary of things to do together. He'd even gone the extra mile and asked MacKenzie the favor of being on standby for any F4 related emergencies in his stead (with a caveat that if magic was involved, he should be contacted immediately).

And so, crafting the most precise veil he knew how to, he will slip up behind the object of his affections as she thinks she is off and alone.

"My lady." Comes a whisper over her shoulder, as he manages to keep the tone soft in spite of his grin.

nextgen_holiday:

"A father is a guy who has snapshots in his wallet where his money used to be." -- Unknown

quitethecharmer:

Vincent exhaled as he put down his pen. He had any number of other ways to organize his schedule, but every so often the simplicity of paper and ink was reassuring. School, work with Kristoff (including ongoing research into Kassia's friend's affliction), self-study in magic until Mistress Jennifer chose to interpose herself into his education again (he was still her apprentice, after all), tutoring to pick up some spare cash that was truly his own, and then finally, free time.

Free time that was already the subject of an algorithim to determine 'fair' distribution between his 'family' in the building, Shanna's continued acclimation to Earthen culture, his budding friendship with Mackenzie (along with further patching of the wound to it he'd managed to inflict), a few other friends, and, most notably now, Asleif.

All of which was subject to interruption at any time for Fantastic or Asgardian business, or whatever other sort of peril crossed his path. Oof. Still, it was a different life than he used to lead, even if that makes it sound like a much more dramatic change than it really was. He put the papers aside for the night and went to bed.



( What dreams may come... )

He sits up, catching his breath, and running a hand over his face.

"It... it was a dream." Vincent reassured himself, before getting out of bed and wandering to the bathroom. He washed his face, and looked into the mirror. There were some flecks in his scar. He brushed at them, but they persisted. He brushed harder, and his skin began to flake off. Unable to stop himself, he continued tearing away the brittle flesh, battered and tempered iron framing a still jaw and bloodshot eye coming into view.

"It is time for you to be who you were born to be..." The mirror shattered as a gauntlet came through it, reaching for him.

There is a thud against reinforced flooring as Vincent, gasping, falls out of bed. He looks around, and his hand comes to rest on a notepad on the floor. On it, the words of the first dream are already transcribed.

He fumbles for the phone on his nightstand and calls Doctor Samson to schedule an appointment as soon as possible, then, after as much internal deliberation as he can sit still for, he leaves his room to go see if Kristoff is awake.

nextgen_holiday:

Mother love is the fuel that enables a normal human being to do the impossible. ~Marion C. Garretty, quoted in A Little Spoonful of Chicken Soup for the Mother's Soul

nextgen_adult:

After Jennifer Kale had confirmed that Vincent's experiment was not the cause of the unusual situation, they'd moved on to the Sorcerer Supreme. After a cursory examination of Vincent and the magical imprint left upon him, Strange seemed oddly amused by the turn of events, considering it's rather benign tone overall.

"This cannot be allowed to stand indefinitely, however. I should be able to perform a spell of soul-mending, which should rectify the problem. We'll need the true cause of this, however..." He steps away from his fellow mages, and Kristoff, and conjures a portal.

"Quinn. Come here now. I have some questions for you." When an individual could raise as much trouble as that one could, it behooved Strange to keep a feeler out as to his location.

quitethecharmer:

Vincent returned to the Baxter Building, having spent the morning at, to even his own surprise, the Latverian Embassy. It was nothing. He'd received notification, after he'd RSVP'd to the royal wedding, that he would be fitted for a formal suit to wear while in attendance. The scared child got shoved back in the box and Vincent had indeed shown up at the appointed time.

There had, however, been a complication.

Which is why he will return to the Baxter Building in a rather foul mood, and needing to speak with Kristoff.

nextgen_misc:

The invitations to THE wedding of the year went out today. Heads of state, diplomats and dignitaries from all over the world would be receiving invitations. The fervor over the wedding was building and would reach a peak when Kate Middleton walked down the isle.

quitethecharmer:

Eventually, the mortal Vincent and Kristoff arrived at Jennifer Kale's home. It was relatively inoccuous compared to Strange's Sanctum Sanctorum, but the wards and residual magic around it stood out like a beacon. The half of Vincent reflected on how long it had been since one of his formal lessons.

"Home away from home." He commented to himself as he leaped from the still descending Fantasticar out of habit. His legs screamed their protest as he made his landing from a bit higher than would have been comfortable for a human in relatively fit condition. His face strains, but he doesn't let out any noise of discomfort.

He advances to the front door and knocks.

quitethecharmer:

Vincent was, all things considered, in a good mood. Applying alchemical principles had proven most effective in the theoretical models for his nanites, even if it disqualified the work from any mass distribution. Still, he was proud of it, and looked forward to this first lab test. Particularly since Kristoff was working with him. Despite some of the more mind-numbing parts, he'd been quite happy with resuming their lessons together.

quitethecharmer:

The day after the discussion with Shanna, Vincent needed to talk to someone. It wasn't as if he and Kristoff had had the typical brotherly relationship, and certainly not in the context of being Americans, but he couldn't think of anyone else to bring this particular situation to. Even if they'd pointedly tried to avoid talking about Vincent's sex life in the past.

They'd been scheduled for a science lesson anyway, so Vincent is expecting his brother to be available when he arrives at the lab. He's not quite distraught, but he's clearly uneasy.

quitethecharmer:

It was looking to be a rather busy week for Vincent. Aside from what he had to do, there were certain things he simply felt he should do, and at least one he was looking forward to.

nextgen_citizen:

A middle-aged man in official looking uniform of some European fashion arrives at the Baxter Building.

"I am here to speak with Kristoff Vernard and Vincent von Doom, on behalf of the monarch of Latveria, Victor von Doom."

quitethecharmer:

Vincent had needed a distraction after the events in Symkaria, and more to the point, in Latveria. He'd reorganized his lab, run some upgrades on his aide droids, and upon attempting to clean up some of his old journals, had started re-reading them.

He smirked and shook his head at himself as he read about his and Kristoff's first meeting. Various incidents with Valeria and Franklin. Pranking Grimm with Storm's help.

And then he got to the outing where they clashed with the Serpent Society, and the talk with Kristoff afterwards.

He felt his stomach fall to somewhere remote.

~~~

"Kristoff?" He was still holding the journal. "Do you have any time?"

discardedheir:

When the smoke and the dust and in some cases the blood finally clears, there's just the electronically sealed vault door separating the combatants from their captive parents, grandparents, and employers.

Kristoff gets to work on the locks, and soon the door rolls back. The technicians surrounding the prisoners are all cowering in fear with their hands up.

The prisoners themselves -- Silver Sablinova, Victor Von Doom, Namor McKenzie, T'Challa, Magneto, and Exodus -- are all under heavy restraints and hooked up to IVs, so heavily drugged that they cannot access their abilities or think straight enough to plan an escape. They have only recently been brought to enough basic consciousness to -- HYDRA had assumed -- watch their children die on the television screen provided.

burnwithlight:

Just before they got near Symkarian airspace, they'd gotten a message from Vernard that he and his brother would be going. Another point in the 'Nazi Trap!' column.

And again they answer a few basic questions from SHIELD before they're even allowed past those border checks.

Eventually, they're in. Giovanna's hand hangs onto Andrew's arm in a girlfriendly fashion. The better to shock him at an instant's notice.

Symkaria's cleanup look like it's going very well.

discardedheir:

Kristoff got Vincent and Andrea together privately within the castle.

"Vincent and I have obtained invitations to the meeting in Symkaria," he says. "Raising the likelihood that this is a trap from 'very likely' to 'extremely likely'."

discardedheir:

Kristoff sent a message to SHIELD. Full Disclosure. Doom was not in Latveria, and the Doombot signals had apparently been hijacked.

Then he got to work trying to raise Atlantis on the communcations system. Even once a signal got through the general difficulties connections with Atlantis sometimes did, it was something of a wait for anyone of the techs on the other end to be willing to take a call coming from Doomstadt right now. Even then, it some work to get someone to take "Please put His Majesty or Her Highness through as soon as possible. No, this is not a trick, this is Kristoff Vernard of the Fantastic Four" seriously.

discardedheir:

SHIELD was notified. Cassandra and the children were taken care of, and the Fantasticar was about to enter Latverian airspace.

Obviously, the automatic national defenses were on alert, but they could be temporarily disabled with a code that changed every hour of every day, but was based on particularly complex algorithm Doom had concocted at the age 24 and never shared with another human being, and into which one simply had to plug in the full date and time. And, of course, add the name Valeria.

It's been a very, very long time since he's disobeyed the Master. The Fantasticar touched own on the outskirts of Doomstadt unmolested; Kristoff deliberately does not look in the direction of the gypsy funeral grounds. He can't let himself do that right now.

Since the defenses hadn't been activated, Doomstadt is looking its normal calm, quiet self. People walk unmolested down the cobblestone streets, and the water flows in the fountains. The castle looks its normal self from this distance as well.

Time for them to see about making the Master of Latveria explain himself.

nextgen_media:

Staggered and vague reports are coming that Dr. Doom has now followed his unprovoked aggression against neighboring Symkaria with attacks against Atlantis and Wakanda. As both of these nations are insular and isolated, these reports have been difficult to confirm, and no public announcements have been made by any of the governments involved.  There are even rumors that the respective kings of Atlantis and Wakanda are missing in action.

Even though all the reported victims so far have been isolated or marginalized nations, the U.N. and various governments around the world are reported to be in an uproar trying to decide what action to take.

nextgen_media:

"Reports are coming in from Symkaria that both major cities are under siege by what are unmistakeably Doombots and other Latverian military automata.

After decades of only occasionally mildly disturbed peace, Latveria has apparently finally invaded its southern neighbor.  Victor Von Doom's motivation for this attack remains unknown; he has made no public statement."

staturity:

Cassie had been having trouble sleeping ever since the second trimester and tonight was no exception. But she was too tired to do much more than open her eyes, shift around a little bit, and then close them again. She knew her body was hurting but at that moment she simply wasn't alert enough to wonder why. That is until she felt her water broke. Now that got her to wake up.

"Kristoff?" She grabbed his arm. "The baby's coming."

discardedheir:

"...We are not going to discuss this with your mother at this time. This is very important, Scotty. She has a lot to deal with with the baby coming and the doctors, and this conversation would not be good for her condition."

"Okay."

"Now let me be very clear that the way this was gone about was not okay. Things could have gone very, very wrong. If an emergency comes up again, you have to make sure to get in touch with us or with an adult -- a real adult. Preferably not Asgardians, either. You don't ever just run off and threaten dangerous beings, not even to help someone."

"...okay."

"That being said, those were good reasons to want to do something, even if you shouldn't have. And navigating your way around the worldship, and retrieving the nullifer -- obviously you got very lucky, and it could have been a disaster, and I am worried sick, but...I'm also very proud of you, Scotty."

And Kristoff, crouched next to him, pulled his son into his titanium-alloy-coated arms.

staturity:

A little over 8 months pregnant and Cassie was miserable. She didn't know how she hadn't gone crazy, considering she was still on bed rest. And even getting around in a wheelchair was harder now. Her back hurt. If she lay on her side for a long time it would go numb. And whenever she wanted to rest the baby would start kicking.

Well, that wasn't fair. The baby didn't always kick when she was about to sleep, just most of the time. This one was definitely active. At least the discomfort was worth it for the look on Kristoff's face. Cassie was pretty sure that the baby kicking would never get old for him, probably because he wasn't the one who had to deal with feeling it 24/7.

She loved this baby, really she did. She was just really, really looking forward to having the baby in her arms instead of her stomach.

discardedheir:

Kristoff Vernard, age 22, didn't leave his lab for a long time. He wasn't sure he could handle the humiliation.

"I'm so sorry," she had said. "It's not that I don't care for you, but I'm fairly sure I could never marry you."

The small bottle of Latverian brandy had been a birthday gift he'd been saving for a special occasion. It was empty now.

nextgen_misc:

It was a day like any other day for the island of Manhattan.  The sun was shining, the birds were singing, the cabbies were swearing.  All was as it should be.

As it should be, until something had come up out of the harbor.  Multiple stories tall, covered in scaly green-skin, its every step a practical earthquake.  Bullets could not stop it!  It marched through the city, stepping on all in its wake, smashing and striking out at anything that seemed to annoy it.

Giganto walked the streets of New York!   The police were helpless!  There was only one team with the experience to handle such a beast!

....No.  Not the Avengers.  They're busy this issue.

The World's Greatest Super-Heroes... THE FANTASTIC FOUR!

airhead:

The city was humid and hot, but Heath found the perfect escape under a large tree in Central Park. Though everyone seemed to be sweating in the heat, Heath kept cool in his oasis under the tree. To seem less suspicious he continually changed the direction he had his self created breeze hit him. In his lap was a script for an off Broadway show that his agent thought would be good for him. It was an interesting story of three friends trying to make it in the world of rock and roll, nothing like “Edge of a Cliff”. Between being amazed by the words on the page and having to change the direction of his personal breeze Heath people watched. Studying how different types of people moved and talked was a fun and useful pastime as an actor.

nextgen_holiday:

What Makes a Dad

God took the strength of a mountain,
The majesty of a tree,
The warmth of a summer sun,
The calm of a quiet sea,
The generous soul of nature,
The comforting arm of night,
The wisdom of the ages,
The power of the eagle's flight,
The joy of a morning in spring,
The faith of a mustard seed,
The patience of eternity,
The depth of a family need,
Then God combined these qualities,
When there was nothing more to add,
He knew His masterpiece was complete,
And so,

He called it ... Dad

awesome_andrea:

Andrea was reasonably certain of her choices regarding her future, though various probability forecasts has already come up with several things that could go catastrophically wrong.  The probability on those, fortunately, was rather low.  Success seemed far more likely.

She had already spoken to her father on the matter.  He, of course, had agreed to support her in whatever choice she made.  Comforting, though largely unhelpful.  But she ultimately did not wish to overly burden him.  He already felt badly enough for not being able to help her in the time she had become human and it had taken a great deal of convincing to keep him from coming to rip Vincent limb from limb.

Therefore, she needed another opinion in the matter.  Kristoff or Cassandra would do nicely, and thus she went to seek one of them out.

discardedheir:

Kristoff, after talking to Vincent and after confirming that all was going well with the cleanup and restoration of the transformed, went upstairs to check on his wife.

quitethecharmer:

Vincent looked up at his brother, waiting for him to speak. Much had happened.

nextgen_holiday:

Mothers are the place that we call home.
On them we rest our heads and close our eyes.
There's no one else who grants the same soft peace,
Happiness, contentment, sweet release,
Erasing nighttime tears with lullabies,
Restoring the bright sun that makes us bloom. - Anonymous

discardedheir:

Lu had been staying pleasantly at the Baxter Building a couple of nights since his arrival. Kristoff had already called Anya Stark to arrange a rendezvous; she seemed the woman to see about this.
And now they were on their way.

exiledbrother:

Two months ago he would not have been able to do this. He had been broken by being tossed to this other world. This world that was not his. He had been reduced to nothing. Less than nothing really. He had no papers to get himself set up at first. It had not taken him too long to change things around. He had ended up using an alias to get things started.

Taliesin Morgan was a useful name to use. But it would not last forever. The world would soon know the name of Taliesin von Doom.

So when does this happen and how? It is a Saturday. The skies are clear and people are out and about doing whatever it is they want to. Then in a flash of yellow and blue light that looks almost pretty buses stop. Cabs stop. Police officers on horses in the city parks or on bicycles stop.

Not because they are frozen in time. But they are confused. They are no longer human but dogs, cats, and birds.

Not all of them are like that though. About a half dozen police officers who weren't caught in the strange light are at the City hall. One of them notices just how the wacko is dressed and dives behind a pillar as his friends are tossed by magic and something else aside. The cop manages to get a message through to the Fantastic Four that someone dressed like Doom has just attacked City hall, could they please help?

quitethecharmer:

A call comes over Kristoff's communicator, registering as originating from Vincent's laboratory.

"Kristoff, would you join me in my lab? I'm preparing to initiate something, but I need a fresh set of eyes and a fresh mind to make sure I haven't overlooked anything."

A pause.

"Please."

discardedheir:

Pawn to e4.

"I hope you have been well," Kristoff politely says to Vincent von Doom, looking t him from across the board in the park.

franklen_four:

He was young again, as if the sands of time had recoiled into the peak of the hourglass.  He sat on the floor with a teddy bear hugged tight against his chest.  The fear made him tremble and pale.  All he saw was the world around him fade slowly, and the void of darkness just got closer and closer.  And in his youth, Franklin could do nothing to stop it.
 

( The Truth )

quitethecharmer:

After sufficiently bracing herself for any potential reactions she can foresee, Vincent heads home, avoiding Valeria, as she still doesn't know what to say to her. As usual, he bypasses the lobby in favor of the rooftop access, heading down to the common area. He winces as he walks past Andrea's room, still next to his own. He wonders how long that will last.

She settles into her room, freshening some of the bandages she'd already been fitted with, due to her combat with Halbjorn.

She knows he doesn't need to call Kristoff. Even as hurt as he must still be, her brother's presence is something she can always exp---

No.

No more assumptions. No more of taking him for granted. Not when she can at least stop to think that much. Vincent abruptly finishes the changes quickly, and heads to the intercom.

"Kristoff... I'm home." She swallows, nervous. "Something has happened."

discardedheir:

He'd been able to tell Cassandra that Vincent was back, of course, but in their mutual exhaustion, there hadn't been time to truly discuss it until now, as, all other crisis-related business momentarily attended to, he came to their room with a tea-tray and a stalwart attempt at a smile.

discardedheir:

After many, many things had been taken dealt with, and after Kristoff had finally gotten some sleep, he eventually made his way to quietly and politely knock on Andrea's door.

It was about time for some routine diagnostics and maintenance, on the level with which his assistance was generally helpful. After everything that had happened, making sure she was all right was all the more important.

discardedheir:

Kristoff checked the repairs to the security systems, now that all the actual walls of the Baxter Building were finally intact again. Kristoff had regretted their inability to assist in the most recent manifestations of the crisis, after the attack that took Franklin, they'd had to secure their home and hadn't been able to leave the noncombatants that vulnerable until they could, at which point the conflict itself was already over. Good for the Avengers, the X-Men, SHIELD, and some apparent newcomers. It had been all the FF could manage to look after their own.

He checked on the others.( Read more... )
Next he checked the shipments for equipment he was trying to make available in the pinpointed parts of the world most ravaged by flood, drought, or contamination in the past few weeks of crisis.

And between each of these checks, he would go back and check again, and again, and again, on the machine running every possible scan through worldwide detection and positioning systems for any sign of his brother.

Day after day since he'd set it up, it had run constantly, and turned up nothing.
Until now.

quitethecharmer:

Vincent von Doom loved New York City. So vibrant and diverse compared to his father's kingdom. It was why he spent as much time as possible living out of the Latverian embassy there, rather than at home. The city was just so wonderfully dirty, so unrestrained.

His father had been remarkably indulgent of this, as Vincent more often than not provided a certain measure of distraction. The boy had been quite happy to play the role of the free-wheeling and globe-trotting heir over the past few years.

Today, however, was his eighteenth birthday. He was a man. He felt like testing the limits of his leash somewhat.

There had been a certain issue he'd never been ordered to approach, although it had been some time since he'd been specifically told not to, that piqued his curiosity.

Which is why he was standing at the front entrance to the Baxter Building, in formal Latverian attire, carrying what amounted to a picnic basket. The spiced tea and banitsa, teleported in only minutes earlier, in particular smelled wonderful.

franklen_four:

Blackheart.

Franklin knew exactly who that was, and where to find him.  If there was any description for rage, it would be whatever Franklin was feeling then.  His hands curled into fists so tight his knuckles turned white.  Bubbling, no- boiling rage was inserted into his very being, and he decided that all Hell was going to break loose to express it.  He levitated first, and then flew high into the sky which turned black and red.  In all of his rage, Franklin turned the sky into the entrance to Hell.  The wasteland no living person was ever meant to see was displayed above New York City.

The news stations were quick to see the changes in the sky, and they managed to get video footage of Franklin flying straight through into the dimensional portal.  But that was none of his concern, really.  Franklin's focus was on finding Blackheart, and he did search Hell for just that one being.

franklen_four:


( We gather here today... )

nextgen_misc:

Friends, family and loved ones are bound to notice the disappearance of some females.

nextgen_misc:

The satellite image began with the United States Naval Destroyer, the USS Washington, in open ocean. For a moment, it seemed as though nothing unusual was going on, but then something broke the surface. It was a massive ship, shaped very much like some kind of gigantic fish. Weapons ports opened on the strange new vessel, blasting away at the destroyer. Other ships, equally marine-like in nature, surfaced and surrounded the destroyer, completing the process of blasting it to pieces.

The video stopped, and the Fantastic Four's SHIELD liason, Agent Doug Deeley, turned to the assembled heroes. "This is the fifth attack on US Naval forces in three months. We got lucky this time. Most of the crew survived. The craft are clearly Atlantean in origin, though we've been unable to determine if they're proper military forces or a rogue element. Attempts to contact any of the Atlantean royal family have failed."

The balding black man breathed heavily. "We therefore have to presume the worst."

He changed the projection on the screen to a naval map showing the Northeastern coast of the United States. "Strategic analysis of the attacks suggests that they're heading towards Manhattan. We've already alerted the Avengers, but as the Fantastic Four have more experience with Atlantis, we were hoping you'd be able to assist."

quitethecharmer:

Vincent had been put up on thirty-six hours of enforced bed-rest after retrieving Cassandra, and losing.. part of himself. The world seemed different. He was cold. He got hungry and tired as mortals of average physicality did. It was terrifying, and humiliating, and sickening for him. His body felt incomplete.

As soon as he'd been able to get out of bed, he'd retreated to his lab. All his work on the other major project he was working on was carefully recorded, preserved, and cordoned off, and then everything else got wiped clean. Hours passed, then days, then weeks. He only stopped his calculations and testing when he needed to eat or sleep. Discarded junk food wrappers and instant food packaging overflowed his wastebasket by now The exception was checking in with Kristoff to be assured that Andrea's repairs were proceeding on schedule.

At this point it was a month later, and more than fifty percent of the laboratory walls were covered with notations. He was attempting to isolate the energy that constituted the Asgardian 'spark', and then reinfuse himself with it. He would have called Asleif for consultation, but he couldn't bear to interact with anyone while he was in this state.

He couldn't stay like this.

Without his power.

Without his identity.

Weak. Vulnerable. Unable to protect anyone.