Marvel 616X

Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Arrival in Latveria

The cold winds of Latveria swept through the cliffs as Albedo descended onto the landing platform of Castle Doom. His transformation shimmered away, leaving him in his human form as he stepped onto the stone surface. The air was sharp and biting, but the imposing presence of the fortress ahead demanded all of his attention.

The castle loomed high above, its spires reaching into the night sky like jagged blades. It was an unmistakable symbol of power, its design a seamless blend of ancient architecture and advanced technology. The faint hum of Doom Bots patrolling the perimeter added a mechanical edge to the otherwise medieval atmosphere.

As Albedo adjusted his footing, the sound of approaching steps drew his attention. A group of Latverian guards, clad in polished armor accented with Doom's signature green, emerged from the castle's gates. At their center was a Doom Bot, its sleek metallic frame reflecting the moonlight. Its glowing red eyes fixed on Albedo as it stepped forward.

"Victor von Doom has been expecting you," the Doom Bot intoned, its voice mechanical but authoritative. "Follow us."

Albedo hesitated for a moment before nodding. He fell in step with the entourage, his boots clicking softly against the stone as they led him toward the towering gates of the castle. The guards flanked him on either side, their expressions unreadable beneath their visors.

The Doom Bot led the way, its movements precise and deliberate. "You are entering the heart of Latveria," it said without looking back. "Respect and decorum are required."

"Right," Albedo muttered under his breath, his gaze shifting to the towering walls around him. He couldn't help but feel a pang of unease as the gates creaked open, revealing the castle's inner sanctum.

Inside, the grandeur of Castle Doom became immediately apparent. The corridor was lined with intricate carvings and glowing runes, the walls a mixture of ancient stone and advanced alloy. Tapestries depicting Latverian victories hung alongside digital displays showcasing maps, schematics, and cryptic symbols Albedo couldn't quite decipher.

Every step Albedo took made him feel heavier as the group moved deeper into the castle. The further they went, the more the ambient hum of technology imbuedwith magic grew, a subtle reminder of Doom's mastery over science and magic alike.

The guards led Albedo through the grand hall, a vast space illuminated by glowing chandeliers suspended from high, vaulted ceilings. The walls were adorned with symbols of Latverian sovereignty—depictions of Doom's iconic mask, the Latverian flag, and scenes of battles won under Doom's leadership.

The images Albedo saw varied, and he understood only a few. There was an image of Dr. Doom learning how to use magic from the prior Sorcerer Supreme. An Image of Dr. Doom raiding Hell for his mother's soul, killing Mephisto. Forcing Dormammu into a bargain. Though it was the final image that truly drew Albedos attention. An image of Doom fighting Maker in what Albedo assumed was the Civil War.

Albedo kept his expression neutral, but his mind raced. This place isn't just a fortress—it's a statement. Doom wants anyone who enters here to understand exactly who they're dealing with.

As they approached the far end of the hall, Albedo noticed a massive pair of doors carved from dark wood and inlaid with intricate metalwork. The Doom Bot stopped before them, its head tilting slightly as it addressed Albedo.

"Beyond these doors lies the Throne Room," it said. "Victor von Doom, the Rightful King of Latveria and the mighty Sorcerer Supreme, awaits you."

Albedo glanced at the doors, his jaw tightening. He didn't like walking into a situation with so many unknowns, but he didn't have much choice. With a nod, he stepped forward as the doors began to open, their heavy creak echoing through the hall. The feeling of anxiety flowing throughout his body was immense.

As the massive doors creaked shut behind him, Albedo found himself stepping into the heart of Castle Doom. The Throne Room was vast, with towering columns and walls adorned with glowing green runes and symbols of Latverian power. The air was heavy with a sense of purpose, and every detail of the chamber seemed designed to remind visitors of who ruled here.

At the far end of the room, Victor von Doom sat atop his obsidian throne. His emerald cloak draped elegantly over his shoulders, and his silver mask glinted in the ambient light. As Albedo approached, Doom rose, descending the steps of the dais with deliberate grace.

"Albedo," Doom said, his deep voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber. "Welcome to Latveria."

Albedo stopped a few steps away from the dais, his dark eyes narrowing slightly. "You know my name," he said, his tone guarded. "How?"

Doom inclined his head slightly, his hands clasped behind his back. "A fair question. Few beings from beyond this reality step into my domain without my knowledge. Your arrival, though subtle to most, was not so to me. My magic and technology are far-reaching, capable of detecting the slightest ripple in the fabric of existence. The moment you entered this world, I knew."

Albedo frowned, his arms crossing. The implications were a little terrifying."So you've been watching me this whole time?"

"Observing," Doom corrected, his voice calm. "Latveria is no stranger to intrusions from beyond. It is my duty to understand the motives of those who cross into my domain. You were no exception."

Albedo tilted his head, his expression skeptical. "You make it sound like you were waiting for me."

"In a sense," Doom replied, taking another step forward, "I was. The Maker's influence grows with each passing day, and I knew it was only a matter of time before someone, or something, attempted to intervene. When you appeared, it was clear to me that you were not an ally of his. Mainly due to the combination of magic and celestial energy used to bring you into this realm. The Maker is intelligent when it comes to science, but the mystic arts and cosmic energy escape his understanding. The energy alone earned you my attention."

Albedo's gaze hardened as he processed Doom's words. "And you didn't think to intervene sooner? Maybe save me the trouble of fighting those troublesome faker heroes just to get here?"

Doom chuckled softly, the sound resonating in the vast chamber. "Your journey was as much a test as it was an inevitability. Latveria is not a sanctuary for the unworthy. I needed to see if you could survive, if you were capable of what this fight demands. As well I had no idea of your intentions. Though you have passed my test. You've proven yourself resourceful, and you are obviously against the Maker. Thus your worthiness has you here, standing before me."

Albedo exhaled sharply, his stance still tense. "I'm not sure whether to be flattered or annoyed."

"Both are acceptable," Doom said with a faint hint of amusement. "But know this, Albedo: my actions are not born of malice. They are born of necessity. And if we are to stop the Maker, necessity must guide us both."

Doom gestured toward the glowing holographic map, his metallic fingers tracing over key locations highlighted in red. Albedo watched closely, his expression a mixture of curiosity and irritation. Doom's calm, measured tone carried the weight of authority as he began to explain.

"I have no idea what your knowledge of this world is currently, so I feel the need to share what I feel is necessary. The Maker," Doom began, "is not this world's Reed Richards, though to the untrained eye, he might as well be. He arrived in this reality during the Second World War, using the chaos of the era to position himself as a brilliant mind and an ally of the Allied forces. Over time, he established a reputation as a visionary, a savior to humanity. His inventions and leadership allowed America in destroying Hydra, down to its last member. It is this reputation, carefully cultivated over decades, that has allowed him to seize control , and maintain it, so effectively."

Albedo frowned, crossing his arms. "What about the Fantastic Four? They obviously wouldn't actually believe he's Reed Richards?"

Doom nodded, his mask reflecting the light of the hologram. "Correct. They have no illusions about who he truly is. The Maker never claimed to be this world's Reed Richards to them—he didn't need to. His reputation as a benefactor and leader precedes him. They trust him not because they believe he is their Reed, but because the world sees him as an unparalleled genius and protector."

Albedo's brow furrowed. "That doesn't make sense. If they know he's not Reed, why follow him at all?"

"Because they have no reason to oppose him," Doom replied, his voice calm. "The Maker's actions, on the surface, appear benevolent. He has spent decades solving problems no one else could, creating systems of control that appear to serve humanity. To the Fantastic Four, and indeed to most of the world, he is simply a man of unmatched brilliance who has earned their trust through years of service."

Albedo gestured toward the hologram. "But the real Reed Richards—what happened to him? He's obviously not in the picture. Are you going to tell me that the Maker eliminated him?"

Doom's gaze shifted to Albedo, his tone darkening. "That is the most likely scenario. After the cosmic incident that granted the Fantastic Four their powers, the true Reed Richards vanished. Whether the Maker killed him or removed him through other means remains unknown to me, nor even the Vishanti. What is certain, however, is that the Maker ensured his counterpart could no longer threaten his plans."

"So, the Fantastic Four just accepted that?" Albedo asked, his voice tinged with disbelief.

"They had little choice," Doom said. "The Maker likely framed Reed's disappearance as a tragic consequence of the cosmic accident. With his positive reputation firmly in place, he positioned himself as the only person capable of leading the team. They all just ended up added to the Avengers ever growing roster."

Albedo's fists clenched as he processed the information. "And SHIELD? They're just enabling all of this to happen. Shouldn't they be the ones preventing someone from wielding such power?"

Doom nodded, gesturing to a cluster of red-highlighted locations on the map. "The SHIELD you refer to doesn't exist here. SHIELD here is the Maker's primary tool for control. He created it personally and has spent decades molding it into an organization that serves his vision. The seated SHIELD agents, The Registration Act, the consolidation of power, the suppression of independent thought—all of it flows directly from his influence. And because he appears to be working in humanity's best interests, few dare to question his motives."

Albedo exhaled sharply, his jaw tightening. "And the Fantastic Four are just… fine with that? I find it hard to believe them to be ignorant enough to not know what is going on. Especially Susan Storm of all people! They have to know, I refuse to believe they don't. Which means that they are okay with working for someone like him?"

Doom's tone turned cold. "They do not work for him. They work alongside him, believing that his actions serve a greater good. To the uninformed this world is a utopia. Crime is at an all time low. Property damage is restricted. Technological advancement that only existed on tv. But there is so much more going on. The world view is the few for the many, but that few feels closer to the many. The people killed, imprisoned, brainwashed, altered, and experimented on by The Maker."

"To all those he has allied with they have become fully loyal to the Maker as he manipulated them into being loyal. Changing their histories, and grooming them. Their loyalty is not to the Maker himself, but to the ideals they believe he represents. It is a carefully constructed illusion, one the Maker has perfected over years of manipulation."

Albedo stared at the map, the weight of Doom's words sinking in. "So, the Maker's been shaping the world for decades, building trust, silencing dissent, and eliminating anyone who gets in his way. And now, he's untouchable because everyone sees him as a hero."

Doom inclined his head slightly. "Precisely. The Maker's strength lies not only in his intellect but in his ability to craft narratives. To the world, he is a savior. To us, he is a usurper who must be removed with precision."

Albedo leaned against the edge of the holographic table, his eyes scanning the glowing map. His mind buzzed with the weight of Doom's revelations, but there was one more piece of the puzzle he couldn't ignore.

"What about mutants?" Albedo asked, his tone sharp. "I've seen the reports—the way they work for SHIELD, the way they've been weaponized. That doesn't add up with what I know about this world's mutants. How did the Maker manage to pull that off?"

Doom's mask turned slightly toward Albedo, his imposing presence unshaken by the question. "The Maker's control over mutants is one of his most calculated victories," Doom said. "He did not simply suppress them—he redefined their place in society. It began decades ago, during World War II, when the Maker first encountered a young Erik Lehnsherr."

"Magneto," Albedo muttered, narrowing his eyes.

"Indeed," Doom said, his voice steady. "During the war, the Maker saved Erik Lehnsherr from the horrors of the Holocaust. He raised him, not as a victim of persecution, but as a soldier of his vision. Erik became a loyal follower, shaped by the Maker's philosophy and unwavering in his dedication."

Albedo frowned. "So Magneto's his puppet?"

Doom shook his head slightly. "Not entirely. Erik retains his autonomy in many ways, but his loyalty to the Maker runs deep. The Maker ensured that Erik's survival and success were inextricably tied to his intervention. This loyalty has only grown stronger over the years, particularly after Erik's greatest victory."

Doom adjusted the map, highlighting a point in the timeline. A new image appeared—a silhouette of a figure with a glowing aura, a mix of menace and power.

"Apocalypse," Doom said, his voice grim. "An ancient mutant who sought to dominate the world, a being of immense power and ambition. In this world, Apocalypse's conquest reached its peak when he possessed the body of Charles Xavier, merging his power with the mind of one of the most influential mutants."

Albedo's eyes widened. "He possessed Xavier?"

"Yes," Doom said. "With Xavier's telepathy and Apocalypse's raw power, he became an unstoppable force. He nearly succeeded in enslaving the world's mutant population, bending them to his will."

"But Magneto stopped him?" Albedo asked, his tone skeptical.

Doom nodded. "With the Maker's guidance and resources, Magneto led a coalition of mutants to defeat Apocalypse. The battle was monumental—an event that solidified Magneto's reputation as a savior among mutants. With Apocalypse's defeat, Erik emerged as the unquestioned leader of mutantkind."

"And that's how the Maker got mutants under SHIELD's control," Albedo said, his voice tinged with frustration.

"Precisely," Doom replied. "After Apocalypse's defeat, the Maker used Magneto's influence to shape the future of mutantkind. He offered them security, stability, and purpose—all under the banner of SHIELD. Mutants joined willingly, believing Magneto's leadership would ensure their survival and autonomy."

"But they're not autonomous," Albedo said, his fists clenching. "They're just another tool for the Maker."

Doom's tone darkened. "Correct. The mutant faction within SHIELD operates as a highly specialized division, tasked with enforcing the Maker's will. They believe they are protecting their kind, but in reality, they are pawns in his greater design."

Albedo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "So let me get this straight. The Maker saved Magneto, turned him into a hero, and used his influence to bring mutants into SHIELD. And no one questions this? Not even Magneto?"

"Magneto is no fool," Doom said. "He is aware of the Maker's influence, but he believes the ends justify the means. To Erik, the Maker's control is a small price to pay for the safety and unity of mutantkind. And as long as that belief holds, the Maker's control remains unchallenged."

Albedo shook his head. "It's all so… calculated. Every move, every decision—it's like he's been playing this game for decades."

Doom's mask turned back toward the holographic map, his voice calm but firm. "Because he has. The Maker's genius lies not only in his intellect but in his patience. Every piece of this world has been shaped to fit his design, and mutants are no exception."

Albedo crossed his arms, his gaze locked on the glowing holographic map before him. The image of a towering, red-skinned Hulk dominated the display, the title "HULK" emblazoned alongside it. His dark eyes narrowed as he glanced toward Doom.

"I've been hearing the name 'Hulk' thrown around ever since I got here," Albedo began, his tone edged with suspicion. "But they're not talking about Bruce Banner, are they?"

Doom inclined his head slightly, the faint glow of the hologram reflecting off his mask. "You are correct. In this world, Bruce Banner never became the Hulk."

Albedo frowned, though the revelation didn't entirely surprise him. "I figured as much. They're calling this Red Hulk 'Hulk' like he's the original, which means Banner's out of the picture. Let me guess—this is the Maker's doing?"

Doom gestured to the map, shifting the display to highlight several points in history. "Indeed. The Maker's changes to this world were not random. He ensured that Bruce Banner's accident never occurred. Instead, the Hulk mantle was claimed by Theodore Ross, a man whose ambitions aligned with the Maker's vision."

"Theodore Ross," Doom continued, his voice measured, "was once a military general, a man obsessed with power and control. The Maker saw an opportunity in Ross—an individual who could embody the destructive force of the Hulk while remaining loyal to SHIELD."

Albedo raised an eyebrow. "And Ross just went along with it? I've met versions of him before. He's not exactly the cooperative type."

"Ross did not 'go along' with anything," Doom said. "The Maker ensured that Ross's transformation was not an accident, but a carefully engineered event. Unlike Bruce Banner, whose transformation would have been chaotic and uncontrollable, Ross embraced his newfound power. To him, becoming the Hulk was a means to achieve his long-held goals: dominance, respect, and the ability to crush his enemies."

Albedo's expression darkened. "So now SHIELD has a Hulk they can control. Great. And the Avengers are okay with this?"

Doom's mask tilted slightly as he regarded Albedo. "The Avengers of this world are a different breed, carefully selected by the Maker to serve his vision. They see Ross as an asset, not a threat. To them, he is the Hulk—nothing more, nothing less."

The Missing Banner

Albedo leaned forward, his tone sharper now. "And what about Bruce Banner? What happened to him?"

Doom paused for a moment before responding, his voice quieter. "Bruce Banner exists in this world, though his role has been diminished. The Maker's manipulations ensured that Banner never encountered the gamma radiation that would have transformed him into the Hulk. Instead, he remains a brilliant but unremarkable scientist, working quietly in obscurity."

Albedo's jaw tightened. "He's still out there, then. Just… forgotten."

"Forgotten, but not powerless," Doom said. "Banner's intellect is as formidable as ever. Should he become aware of the Maker's influence, he could prove to be a valuable ally—or a dangerous variable. For now, the Maker keeps him isolated, ensuring he remains unaware of what has been taken from him."

The holographic map flickered as Doom gestured once more, shifting the focus from the towering figure of the Hulk to a new section. A large red marker appeared over the Arctic Circle, accompanied by a faint silhouette that made Albedo's eyes narrow.

"Captain America," Doom said, his tone darker now, "does not exist in this time period."

Albedo frowned, his arms crossing tightly. "Doesn't exist? How is that possible? He's supposed to be frozen in ice, right? Just waiting for someone to dig him up."

"Correct," Doom replied, his voice calm but grim. "In most iterations of this reality, Steve Rogers—the symbol of hope and freedom—was discovered decades after the Second World War, preserved in the Arctic ice. His return would have inspired a generation, creating an unwavering beacon of resistance. But in this world, he was never found."

Albedo raised an eyebrow. "Never found? Or never meant to be found?"

Doom's mask turned slightly toward Albedo, his voice taking on a sharper edge. "Precisely. The Maker's manipulations ensured that Rogers' body remains hidden. It is no coincidence that SHIELD, with all its resources, has never uncovered him. I suspect that the Maker himself has taken the body—if not for preservation, then for something far more insidious."

Albedo stepped closer to the table, his dark eyes narrowing as he examined the red marker on the map. "You think the Maker's hiding him? Why?"

Doom tilted his head slightly, his gloved hand resting on the edge of the holographic table. "Because Steve Rogers represents a direct threat to everything the Maker has built. Captain America's ideals, his legacy, would serve as a rallying point for rebellion. The Maker's control depends on a population that believes in his vision of order. Rogers' very existence undermines that vision."

"And if he's hiding the body," Albedo said, piecing the theory together, "then the Maker's making sure no one can bring him back. No Captain America, no symbol of hope."

Doom nodded slowly. "Exactly. But I fear there may be more to it than that. The Maker is not one to simply eliminate a threat. He repurposes it, bends it to his will. If he has taken Steve Rogers' body, it is not simply to hide it—it is to use it."

Albedo's brow furrowed. "Use it? For what?"

Doom's voice turned cold. "That is the question, isn't it? Perhaps as a means to enhance his own experiments, to study the serum that gave Rogers his strength. Or worse, to create a version of Captain America loyal to his cause."

Albedo exhaled sharply, his irritation bubbling beneath the surface. "So the Maker's not just rewriting history—he's erasing it. Anything that doesn't fit into his perfect little system gets buried or twisted into something else."

"Indeed," Doom said, his tone steady. "The Maker's strength lies not only in his ability to control the present, but in his mastery over the narrative of the past. He knows that a symbol like Captain America cannot be allowed to exist in its true form. It would inspire resistance, foster hope. And hope is the one thing he cannot allow."

Albedo shook his head, his fists clenching. "It's all so… calculated. He's not just playing God—he's playing puppet master, pulling strings no one even knows are there."

Doom's mask turned back toward the holographic map. "And it is those strings we must find and cut. The Maker believes himself untouchable, but his arrogance blinds him to the flaws in his design. Captain America may be gone, but his legacy is not so easily erased."

The heavy silence in the Throne Room was broken by Albedo's sharp voice. "You seem to know a lot about the Maker. More than anyone else in this world, from what I've seen. How is that possible? If he's as good at rewriting reality as you say, how are you even aware of what he's doing?"

Doom turned toward Albedo, his emerald cloak trailing behind him as he stepped away from the holographic map. His imposing figure seemed to command the very air around him, but his tone remained calm, almost conversational. "That is a question worth answering, Albedo, as it speaks to the very nature of my role in this conflict."

Albedo raised an eyebrow, crossing his arms. "I'm listening."

Doom gestured toward the glowing runes etched into the walls of the Throne Room. Their faint hum grew louder as he spoke. "I am not merely the ruler of Latveria. In this iteration of the world, I have assumed a far greater responsibility. I am the Sorcerer Supreme, the protector of this realm's mystical balance."

Albedo's eyes narrowed. "Sorcerer Supreme? You mean like Doctor Strange?"

"Exactly," Doom said, inclining his head slightly. "In this world, Stephen Strange never ascended to that role. Instead, it fell to me, and through my connection to the Vishanti—the guardians of magical order—I have gained insight into the Maker's manipulations. While he bends time, space, and reality, I stand as a barrier, resisting his changes and safeguarding the threads of truth that remain."

Albedo's skepticism was clear, but he didn't interrupt as Doom continued. "The Vishanti's power grants me clarity," Doom explained. "While the Maker reshapes the timeline, I remain untouched by his manipulations. I see the fractures he creates, the shifts he imposes. And more importantly, I have used my magic to ensure that his greatest weapon—time travel—is denied to him."

Albedo frowned. "You've stopped him from traveling through time?"

"Correct," Doom said, his tone firm. "The Maker's alterations to this world were largely achieved through temporal interference. He did not simply arrive here during World War II—he actively reshaped events to suit his vision. But time is fragile, Albedo, and even the Maker cannot bend it without consequences."

Albedo tilted his head, his interest piqued. "So, what did you do?"

"I created a magical barrier," Doom said, gesturing toward the glowing runes around the room. "A temporal lock that prevents the Maker from further altering the timeline. He may shape the present and the future, but the past is now beyond his reach."

Albedo's gaze shifted to the glowing symbols, his mind racing. "If you've locked the timeline, why haven't you just… undone everything he's done?"

Doom's mask turned back toward him, his voice steady but heavy. "Because the lock comes at a cost. To maintain this barrier, I must remain here, in Latveria. I am the anchor, the 'battery,' as you might call it, that sustains the magic keeping the timeline stable. Should I leave, even for a moment, the Maker would regain access to the past, and his influence would grow unchecked."

Albedo's eyes widened slightly. "So you're stuck here? You can't fight him directly?"

"Precisely," Doom said, his tone betraying no hint of regret. "My role is not to wage war against the Maker but to hold the line. While I remain in Latveria, his power is limited. It is why he has not yet moved to destroy me outright—he knows that doing so would destabilize his entire design. But it also means I must rely on others—individuals like you—to take the fight to him."

Albedo exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. "Let me get this straight. You've been holding this world together, keeping the Maker from messing with time again, and no one knows?"

Doom's tone softened, though his presence remained imposing. "The burden of knowledge is not one I share lightly, Albedo. But now you understand why I have watched you so closely. You have the power and the mobility to act where I cannot. Together, we may yet dismantle the Maker's control."

The glow of the holographic map reflected off Albedo's face as he processed Doom's explanation. The weight of what he'd learned about the Maker's manipulations, combined with Doom's critical role in holding the timeline together, left his mind racing. But one question lingered, gnawing at the edges of his thoughts.

"You know a lot about me," Albedo said finally, his tone edged with skepticism. "You've been watching me since I got here, and you seem to know things about me that even I don't fully understand. What I don't get is why you trust me."

Doom turned his masked gaze toward Albedo, his presence as commanding as ever. He paused for a moment before responding, his voice calm but thoughtful. "Trust is a strong word, Albedo," he said. "Perhaps it would be more accurate to say that I see potential in you. A potential that has been confirmed by… outside sources."

Albedo's brow furrowed. "Outside sources? Who?"

"Professor Paradox," Doom said simply, as though the name alone answered everything.

Albedo stiffened slightly at the mention of Paradox, his mind immediately flashing to his past encounters with the enigmatic time traveler. "Paradox," he muttered. "Of course. He always seems to know exactly where to stick his nose."

Doom chuckled softly, the sound resonating faintly in the vast chamber. "Indeed. The man's… unique relationship with time and space has made him a frequent visitor to my domain. It was during one such visit that he spoke of you."

Albedo tilted his head, suspicion clear in his expression. "And what exactly did he say about me?"

Doom stepped closer to the holographic map, his voice steady. "He told me of your past. Your crimes. Your fall from grace. But he also spoke of the choice you have made—the path of redemption you now walk. He believes in you, Albedo, and while I do not share his boundless optimism, I respect his insight."

Albedo crossed his arms, his expression guarded. "So you're just taking his word for it? That doesn't sound like the Doom I've read about."

Doom's mask tilted slightly, his tone softening. "I am not so foolish as to base my decisions on one man's opinion, even one as singular as Paradox. But his words align with what I have seen in you. You are resourceful, intelligent, and, above all, capable of change."

Albedo narrowed his eyes. "Capable of change? That's all it takes for you to trust me?"

Doom's voice turned heavier, more reflective. "No, Albedo. It is not all it takes. But I have seen firsthand what it means to seek redemption. I, too, have walked the path of ambition and destruction, only to find myself seeking to repair what I have broken. If I can change, then so can you."

The honesty in Doom's words caught Albedo off guard, but he didn't let it show. "So that's it? You're just giving me a shot because you think I'm some kind of kindred spirit?"

Doom chuckled again, a faint note of amusement in his tone. "Let us not overstate the matter. I would not call it trust, nor would I call it faith. But I do recognize that you may be the ally I need. And, if I am being entirely transparent…" He paused for a moment, his voice taking on a subtle edge. "I am, perhaps, a little desperate."

Albedo raised an eyebrow. "Desperate? That's not exactly reassuring."

"Desperation is not weakness, Albedo," Doom said firmly. "It is clarity. The Maker's control over this world grows stronger by the day, and my ability to resist him is not infinite. If there is even a chance that you can succeed where others have failed, then I will take it."

Albedo leaned against the edge of the holographic table, his arms crossed and his expression tight. Doom's words lingered in his mind, their weight undeniable. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on him—he had come to Latveria out of desperation, and now he was faced with the reality that Doom, one of the most notorious figures in any timeline, was just as desperate.

"Well," Albedo said begrudgingly, breaking the silence, "I guess we don't have a choice, do we? You're stuck here holding the timeline together, and I can't exactly do this alone. If this is going to work, we'll have to find a way to work together."

Doom inclined his head slightly, his masked face unreadable. "A wise conclusion, Albedo. Desperation may have brought us to this point, but it is action that will determine whether we succeed or fail. And our first action must be decisive."

Albedo raised an eyebrow, his skepticism returning. "Decisive, huh? I'm guessing you already have something in mind."

Doom gestured toward the holographic display, which shifted to reveal a new image—a fortified structure surrounded by heavy defenses. Albedo's eyes narrowed as he studied it.

"This," Doom said, his voice calm but firm, "is where we begin."

Albedo stepped closer, his gaze scanning the details of the structure. "What is this place?"

"A prison," Doom replied. "One of the Maker's many tools for maintaining his control. It is not widely known, even among SHIELD operatives, but it exists for a singular purpose: to erase threats."

"Erase threats?" Albedo echoed, frowning.

Doom nodded. "The Maker's control over this world is not absolute. There are individuals he could not simply erase from existence. Heroes, leaders, and figures of influence whose removal would destabilize the delicate balance he has created. Instead, he chose to imprison them, ensuring they are forgotten by the world."

Albedo exhaled sharply, his fists clenching. "So, what—you're saying there are heroes locked up in there? People who could actually help us?"

"Precisely," Doom said. "While I cannot leave Latveria, I have kept watch over the Maker's actions. This prison holds some of the most formidable individuals this world has known. Their talents, their resolve—they could tip the scales in our favor."

Albedo crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the holographic prison. "And you want me to just waltz in there and break them out? That doesn't exactly sound subtle."

"Subtlety," Doom said with a faint hint of amusement, "is not an option in this case. The Maker's forces are vast, and his surveillance is extensive. However, the prison is designed not as a battlefield, but as a tomb. It is heavily fortified, but its defenses are focused inward—meant to keep its inhabitants contained, rather than repel external threats."

Albedo smirked faintly. "So you're saying they're not expecting an attack."

"Precisely," Doom replied. "With the element of surprise, you could infiltrate the facility, disable its defenses, and free those within. But make no mistake, Albedo—this will be no simple task. The Maker's forces will respond swiftly, and you must be prepared to face them."

Albedo tapped the edge of the table, his mind racing as he considered the implications. "If we're doing this, I'll need more than just brute force. We'll need intel on the prison's layout, its defenses, its weak points. And we'll need to know who's in there. I'm not going in blind."

Doom nodded approvingly. "A pragmatic approach. Fortunately, I have already compiled much of the information you will need. The prison's location, its key vulnerabilities, and a partial list of its occupants—these are at your disposal."

Albedo raised an eyebrow. "Partial list? You don't know everyone who's in there?"

"Even my knowledge has limits," Doom admitted. "The Maker's secrecy is formidable. But the individuals I do know of are more than capable of aiding our cause."

Albedo leaned over the table, his eyes narrowing. "Alright, Doom. Let's hear it. Who am I breaking out of this place?"

Doom adjusted the holographic display, zooming in on a barren expanse of desert. The glowing map revealed a series of faintly visible lines beneath the sand, barely detectable even under magnification.

"This," Doom said, his voice steady, "is where the prison lies. Hidden deep beneath the desert, far from any major settlement or infrastructure. It was designed to be undetectable, even to those with advanced technology or magic."

Albedo frowned, leaning over the table. "Clever. A prison in the middle of nowhere means no one stumbles onto it by accident. But it also means getting out won't be easy."

Doom nodded. "Correct. The facility is buried several hundred meters below the surface, with only one entrance and exit. The guards stationed there are not your average SHIELD agents—they are hand-picked by the Maker, trained to subdue even the most dangerous prisoners. You will need to be prepared for a fight."

Albedo crossed his arms, his gaze fixed on the hologram. "What kind of defenses are we talking about?"

"The prison's primary defense is its isolation," Doom explained. "Its location ensures that reinforcements take time to arrive. However, the guards within are heavily armed, and the facility itself is fortified with automated defenses. Surveillance drones, energy barriers, and fail-safes designed to neutralize escape attempts."

Albedo exhaled sharply. "Great. So I'm not just fighting off guards—I'm dealing with a fully automated fortress."

"Indeed," Doom said, his tone unyielding. "But the prison's greatest strength is also its greatest weakness. The power grid that sustains its defenses is centralized. If you can disable it, the facility will be left vulnerable, allowing you to free the prisoners."

Albedo raised an eyebrow. "And then what? I'm supposed to lead a group of disoriented heroes out of a collapsing prison, through a desert, while the Maker's forces close in?"

Doom's mask turned slightly toward him, his voice calm but firm. "Leave the escape to me. I will ensure that you and the prisoners are extracted safely once the facility's defenses are neutralized."

Albedo frowned. "You're awfully confident for someone who can't leave Latveria."

"I do not need to leave Latveria to act," Doom replied, his tone laced with subtle amusement. "Trust that I have accounted for the escape. Your focus must be on the mission itself—neutralizing the guards, disabling the power, and freeing the prisoners. The rest will be handled."

Albedo ran a hand through his hair, his frustration bubbling beneath the surface. "So I'm walking into a trap-filled fortress, fighting off Maker-trained guards, and trusting you to get me out alive. Sounds like a solid plan."

Doom chuckled softly, the sound echoing faintly in the vast chamber. "Sarcasm aside, Albedo, this mission is critical. The prisoners within that facility are some of the most capable individuals this world has known. Their strength, their knowledge, their determination—these will be the tools we use to dismantle the Maker's control."

Albedo stared at the hologram for a long moment, his mind racing as he considered the challenge ahead. Finally, he exhaled sharply and nodded. "Alright. I'll do it. But if your escape plan doesn't work, Doom, I'm coming back here to haunt you."

Doom inclined his head slightly, his tone calm. "Noted. Now, let us finalize the details."