Flashback: Just Haven't Earned it Yet.
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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