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[31 Mar 2010|04:01am] |
"Sue. Sue," Storm said insistently. Even sitting in the next room, staring quietly at his own hands, Kristoff can hear him. "Sorry to interrupt your urge to get the kid milk and cookies or something, but how do we know this isn't a trap? Maybe all that happened yesterday was some elaborate--"
"For Heaven's sake, Johnny, did you look at the boy?" Mrs. Richards irritation with her brother was clearly impeding her volume control, as well. "In all the times we've seen him, when have you ever known him to be able to act? He's never been able to lie outright to get an advantage that we've ever seen; so he couldn't look like his heart was crushed if it weren't crushed. And we've got to consider our responsibilities in the situation. Not even dealing with any implied obligation from ties of blood."
"The boy must probably be even less comfortable with the possibility of our being half-brothers than I am, Susan," Dr. Richards finally, awkwardly, adds to the discussion. "If he even knows."
Well, he does now. And Kristoff Vernard Von Doom, age fifteen, who had previously thought it would be nearly impossible for anything here to make him feel more empty or more broken...does.
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| AU: Who's coming to dinner |
[22 Feb 2010|04:48am] |
"And how's Vincent?"
"Also fine, thank you, albeit complaining incessantly about the seventh grade."
"How's everyone else at the Baxter Building."
"Quite well, thank you. Mrs. Richards in particular sends her regards and hopes the two of you bring the baby soon."
Cassandra smiles beautifully and says that of course they will. Then, at last, he speaks up.
"I read your paper on abstract topological dynamics in the MSRI journal. Nice work."
Kristoff manages a polite thank you. Normally any mention of abstract topological dynamics could get him animated and alive as nothing but Latveria or Cassandra normally could. But he can't. Somehow, Nate would manage to take the beauty of mathematics away from him, too.
The most pathetic thing of all was that he, Kristoff Vernard, had helped them figure out the way to avoid the timeline/predestination problem. He could deny her nothing. Not even Nate.
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| AU: Tried to be Perfect |
[22 Feb 2010|03:40am] |
Kristoff was up late with the blueprints of the new water treatment plant. Then he can get back to work on his renovations of the public irrigation system in the northern hills.
The Master has been completely supportive of all Kristoff's little pet projects. It kept him from having to worry about dealing with any such rather petty matters himself, or delegating them to fools. Improvements in the national infrastructure are certainly sped up when those put in charge of such things weren't too terrified to try something new. Or, well, just terrified in general, really. Kristoff could probably still be considered the one man in Latveria who actually loves Doom more than he fears him. But then, a son should. And Kristoff is certainly respected for it. Perhaps a great deal of people feared Kristoff a little, too, but respect was something of which he had plenty.
He goes to a particular spot on the outskirts of the city every Saturday, and, under a particular tree, talks about his week: the various civil engineering projects, the minor political nonsense, the renovations he hopes to suggest to the local university curriculum, and his mathematical research. He knows that even if his mother is somehow listening at her grave, she wouldn't know what the Fields Medal actually is, but he feels she'd be proud anyway (the Master finds it amusing, and generally treats the matter as if Kristoff had been given a shiny toy by a passel of schoolchildren).
There are some things he realizes he's missing. He's never seemed to meet the right girl, for one thing. He's gotten a little better at handling new people in terms of business and politics, but things are still awkward socially. His status certainly doesn't help encourage any sort of casual comfort, or help to cultivate feelings Kristoff refuses to settle for less than. Considering that at 28, he has not been kissed since the age of 12, Kristoff has to admit that a normal family life is not likely. Perhaps he, in turn, will adopt, eventually. But he smiles, as he reflects on the fact that in Latveria, orphans are so very hard to come by. As well they should be.
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| OOC: Dear Santa |
[12 Nov 2009|11:37pm] |
To: Saint Nicholas
Regarding: What I want for Christmas
I have no requests except a good and safe December for my family.
As of mid-November, I have everything I want.
Dr. Kristoff Vernard
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| Flashback, 22 years ago. |
[26 Sep 2009|05:04pm] |
Mama was on the table. Kristoff sat close, but he remembered what she'd always said -- it wasn't good to touch the body any more than you had to. It was like watching her sleep, but he knew better. He might not be quite six yet, but he wasn't a baby.
Kristoff looked out the window. If he looked far enough, he could see the remains of the secret police lying in the street. The Master'd done that. And he said he would...
The news traveled quickly down the street, voices shouting "The Usurper is Dead."
For the first time in the past few hours, little Kristoff Vernard smiled.
Some time later, He came back. "Kristoff, was it?"
"Yes, Master."
"Who is your father?"
Kristoff shook his head. "He was one of Mama's patients, Sir. I never met him."
"I see. As it happens, I have no son. I believe we can come to an arrangement. Let us gather your mother's things to burn at the funeral. Then I shall take you home." He offered a gauntleted hand, and Kristoff took it.
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| Guy Talk |
[30 Aug 2009|07:20pm] |
Scotty Lang had been faced with a lot of news to take in lately. Kristoff wanted to give him the chance to talk a little more if he wanted to.
So, naturally, the thing to do was to Scotty-proof the lab as much as possible -- the state of a place's being completely Scotty-proofed was quite elusive -- get out the quite broken DVD player and some spare parts, and invite Scotty in to help fix it. With the usual necessary stipulation that he did not recommend dissecting appliances in any other room of the house, they got to work.
And with screwdrivers in hand,they talk. About things that Kristoff says shouldn't have to be Scotty's problem. About the importance of using the right tools for the right scale of work whenever possible. About the fact that Kang didn't hurt people when he was with Scotty's mother; that she'd never allow that. About the relative efficiency of different wiring. About how much Scotty and his mother matter to Kristoff and why that little cracked bit was important.
Scotty beams when the close it up, plug it in, and declare it functional. Kristoff hugs him.
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| Flashback: 12.5 Years Ago: Correspondence |
[28 Aug 2009|02:28am] |
He carefully takes the sheet of loose-leaf paper out of its file. Her last letter. He checks the date. Again. It has been four times as long as it has ever taken her to write back before.
Is it an oversight, or does she want to discontinue communicating? Does she have a boyfriend again? If he keeps writing without any response, does that make him a fool?
Word came: the Master wanted to see him. He carefully put the letter in its folder and on its shelf before hurrying eagerly to answer the summons.
A year later, after Kristoff had, by some possible interpretations, bitten the hand that fed him and had to abandon all worldly possessions save his armor, he occasionally reflected on that treasured little archive and wished he had it still. But of course, it was hard to dwell on that when the author wished him to join her at the park next week.
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| Flashback: Just Haven't Earned it Yet. |
[09 Aug 2009|10:12pm] |
It was a perfectly pleasant morning, and twenty-year-old Kristoff Vernard sat going through things on his desk. First, the finished paperwork for the publication of his third -- and probably final, he supposed -- doctoral dissertation. He'd enjoyed mathematics the most of any of them. It was odd; Doom had never taken much interest in abstract topological dynamics, but Kristoff found it....fun.
Second, the check for those latest safety-equipment designs. He made a note to invest it appropriately. Some of it would have to go to shopping for Vincent; the boy was outgrowing clothes and shoes already.
Third, the newspaper, which he looked over with mild interest -- until he got to page A22. It wasn't a page he tended to study thoroughly, but there was a picture. The subjects were...not apparently in mortal peril or under duress. The cut-line merely read 'Iron Lad and Stature: Heroically giving us something to talk about.'
Kristoff stared at it for exactly twelve minutes before putting the paper down, and walking to his lab.
Fortunately, none of his works-in-progress at the time were important.
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| Letter, Age 12. |
[03 Aug 2009|01:55pm] |
[Painfully neatly lettered on cotton-fiber paper, folded with a wax seal. A tiny note on the exterior says 'Lang, there is nothing dangerous in here. My word.']
Dear Cassandra,
After a great deal of complications, I am finally home. I hope that you are well, and that your father does not have any particularly irritating complaints about your receiving mail from Latveria. The castle is much as ever, except for a few thefts and sabotage of the security systems. Fortunately, Dr. Doom and I have dealt with Nathaniel Richards's transmat receivers, so it will not happen again.
I hope your father and his colleagues are all in good health. If nothing interferes with your answering this letter, I would be interested in hearing how school is going. My own current studies involve mathematical research which I fear would bore you.
I wish you could see the city, but I realize you will probably not be able to come to Latveria at any point in the foreseeable future. I do not know when I will be able to see you again, but I hope to someday.
Sincerely,
Kristoff.
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| Flashback (back to the regular kind) |
[25 Jul 2009|10:03pm] |
Kristoff Vernard was nine years old, and everything was finally back to normal. He knew who he was properly again. The Master was done with his dimensionwinding travels -- and it was really him for certain, and Kristoff was privileged to be the only one furnished with proof. And life was quiet and happy again in the castle.
He was reading a book on Goedel when he noticed someone was in the room. He looked over.
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| Alternate Universe Flashback: 12 years ago, differently. |
[21 Jul 2009|11:39pm] |
It had frustrated Doom, letting them walk away like that. But in these particular circumstances, any other action would be beneath him. Doom could wait for another time. That was the kind of Great Man he was. Kristoff loved him so much.
Kristoff, as usual, was as much of service as he could be in all the minor matters that needed attending to in the aftermath. Once it was all done, it was explained that there was something important he needed to be told, someone he needed to meet. That there would be a few changes and that Doom was confident Kristoff would deal with them in a satisfactory manner. High praise from the Master of Latveria.
Kristoff dressed for dinner and arrived early...to find more place settings than usual, and his own usual chair...occupied.
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| Flashback: Therapy. |
[14 Jul 2009|04:18pm] |
12 Years ago:
"I fail to see how any of these questions relate to analyzing the conditioning, Doctor. My apologies for your being called in needlessly; I should obviously be speaking to a neurologist."( Read more... )
11 years, 11 months ago:
"So...Latveria has a new potential-future-Master."
"Yes. I have a... little brother, after a fashion. I doubt I will ever meet him again."( Read more... )
11 years, 10 months, 12 days ago.
"Speaking of the potential threat to the Fantastic Four...and Doom's intentions...and why you're here...can we talk about what impression you may have gotten about Ben and Johnny's opinions?" ( Read more... )
Eight years, four months ago.
"It's been a while since we last touched base."
"Yes."( Read more... )
Seven years ago.
"So...'Iron Lad,' huh?"( Read more... )
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| Flashback Narrative: |
[02 Jul 2009|03:31am] |
For three years, Kristoff had tried to carefully put things into perspective. He'd been exiled, but he'd done what he felt honor required, and he would live with the consequences. He'd been...replaced, but he needed to not resent the replacement. Resenting a small child would be ridiculous; he'd probably go mad.
It was really, the more he thought about it, more appropriate to feel for the boy a little; being the heir of Doom wasn't always easy, and Kristoff ought to know. So he tried to just hope his...little brother, as it were (Doom had had one heir, now he had another, what else should one call it without bitter, irrational reproach?), would manage all right, for Doom's sake, for - eventually - the country's, and for the boy's own.
Then the call had come that Vincent was now a runaway in New York. Of course. How ironic. There was very little, deep down, that Kristoff wanted more than to be back in Latveria, and here was the replacement model, his more favored brother, apparently eager to leave it.
Kristoff's responsibility was clear. His sense of duty was already keen enough, but he knew there was more. The longing for anything of home.
And the more he saw of him, and the more he talked to him (or was talked at by him), ohhh, the boy was a Von Doom, all right, whatever his name and his hostilities. Poised -- when not falling over a chair -- and clearly talented and bold as brass. Somewhat like Kristoff at that age, though with many obvious differences. And Kristoff wanted so much to help. Despite his bravado, Vincent needed to be cared for, and despite his own Kristoff yearned desperately to be needed.
He carefully made sure he wouldn't be tripping some little spell before he snuck into the room adjacent to his own, one night a few weeks after he'd made Vincent's welfare his concern. The eight-year-old's face, particularly asleep, was so vulnerable. Kristoff was quite careful not to wake him; neither the boy's current paranoia nor his constant pride could possibly bear that.
But Kristoff watched. And resolved. Over his dead body was anything going to happen to the brilliant little brat.
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| OOC: Ficlets: Timeline |
[03 Jun 2009|12:28pm] |
Kristoff is 6. He misses Mama, but he's happy in the castle. So many books. So much to hear about. And the Master is wonderful. He couldn't ask for a better parent. If only Kristoff knew what all the wrong things were, so he could know when to stop talking...
Kristoff is 8, and He Is Doom --- wait. No he isn't. How absolutely shameful to have been impersonating him.
Kristoff is 12. Earlier today, he applied knowledge --Doom's knowledge -- of optical heterodyne detection in a new way and disrupted the neural disarrator that was...presenting a significant annoyance for the Master. Now, Doom's taking just a moment amidst other things to say it was quick thinking. Kristoff feels so proud. He's a good son.
Kristoff is 15, and he's soundproofed his room in the Baxter Building because he can't stop crying, and they must not know.
Kristoff is 18. He's learned how to make malted milkshakes. He'd only really ever had one once before, with Cassandra, years ago. But he'd gotten the hang of them quite easily, and they were a reasonably good thing over which to sit with Vincent and discuss the fact that Some Things Just Are Not Done. Many things, in fact.
Kristoff is 22, and looking up at his beloved Cassandra as she explains she is 'not ready'. He schools his face to salvage his dignity.
Kristoff is 24. He's reading over his soon-to-be-published article on complex projective manifolds -- he's fairly certain not a shred of it came from programmed knowledge, but he doesn't really expect anyone to believe that -- when the phone rings. Designated tone for the high school. Probably just another minor infraction or disturbing a skittish faculty member, but despite experience and knowledge of his brother's capabiities, Kristoff can never quite help the little surge of concern for Vincent's safety.
Kristoff is 39*. His hair is already filled with grey. He blames the Richards blood and fools like the one to whom he is speaking. "Why?" he asks. "You are going to do it because it is the right thing to do, because it is very economically viable, but most of all, because I told you to, and as much as I do not wish to interrupt whatever Vincent may be doing right now, I can assure you that you want me to do so much, much less."
That's done now. It's good to be the Master of Latveria's big brother.
*Not, of course, inevitable.
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| [Encrypted Private Files] |
[22 May 2009|02:43am] |
Sometimes I think that if I had to choose my greatest failing as an elder brother it would be how he managed to start entertaining potentially problematic guests without my noticing. But the abruptly-needed -- shall we say Assistance? -- with the lockpicks was certainly amusing. But never really helped him develop a lesson in (I must forgive myself the pun) restraint.
And sometimes I think my greatest failing is that when I was 15, I did not somehow get up afterward, manage to grab him, and then run.
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| Flashback: Just a little more than eight years ago. |
[14 May 2009|05:56am] |
Kristoff would, when asked by certain parties about how well he thought the past three months had gone, say that at least the mechanically and magically locked-down padded cell in the basement hadn't been necessary.
In truth? He'd come to absolutely adore his high-handed, defiant little brother. It still wasn't clear if Vincent had come to accept the term, but Kristoff didn't -- well, he cared, but he could live with even being considered some sort of castoff servant with weird issues for the time being, if that was what was going on in the much-younger boy's mind. Kristoff would still be his brother.
It was a quiet afternoon. The Richardses had taken their children on a family outing for the day. Grimm was settling into the home he had recently acquired for his 'retirement'. Storm had a date. Quiet indeed.
But then something was happening in the lobby. He pulled up the appropriate screens and, just for a moment, froze.
Then Kristoff headed straight down there.
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| Flashback: 12 years ago. |
[12 May 2009|06:52am] |
Kristoff Vernard Von Doom is fifteen years old. Fifteen, and frightened, and guilty.
But he couldn't let him do it. The Master of Latveria had always valued his honor. Kristoff just could not have stood right there as he sullied it by killing the Fantastic Four that way. When they were effectively helpless and had only been trying to help. It had been a clear violation of the makeshift truce -- in spirit anyway. Possibly not to the letter; possibly Kristoff had missed something...
At any rate, Kristoff's pleading protestations, his interference, had bought the Four the time to get away, earlier. And now he stood, his mask off and clasped in his hands behind his back, looking at the floor. Waiting for his sovereign and his guardian, whom he loves very much, to say something.
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| [Encrypted Entry among his Personal Files] |
[11 May 2009|07:27pm] |
Because they are good things to articulate no matter what my surname has to be,
Top Three Priorities:
1. Taking care of my family.
2. Securing the official status of Cassandra and Scotty as members of my family.* (**)
3. Ensuring the general safety of the world, with admitted bias towards the stability of Latveria.
*Once I appear to have enough chance of success to risk my dignity again.
**If all else fails, kill Kang instead.
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