DC: I am Dr Doom

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Happy New Year everyone! Let's welcome 2025 with open arms! I am sure all of us have our own problems, but they can't stop us from celebrating this wonderful moment.

Again, Happy New Year! I am grateful to be here talking to all of you, my friends from far away places on the other side of the globe, who have been a great help. Keep it up! If you have any ideas or problems, please share them with me.

Thank you and peace! 

*****

Neither said anything about the events of the morning, something that I was very grateful for, as they worked to knead the knots of tension out of my shoulder from my reaction to the void situation.

Once our shower was complete, we got dressed and made our way to the lab section of the greenhouse. Pamela was back in her favorite lab coat. The surprise came with Harley donning what I could only describe as a sexy nurse outfit.

The garb came down to thigh length, but bending over (and she bent over far more than was strictly necessary), gave me a clear view of purple lace panties. Two of the front buttons were also undone so I could get a face full of perfectly formed cleavage that I just wanted to bury my face in. With the way the shirt strained at her bust, I was sure it was more to give her relief than to give me a view.

The lab was the location where the crash sound had come from, but with everything still together, it was safe to say that it wasn't an enemy attack.

Walking into the lab, I found a very large man standing in front of a full length mirror with one of his hands repeatedly going over his smooth, bald head. I looked to the right and found the lotus pod open and empty, with the monitoring equipment gone from its side. I was putting the puzzle pieces together and I was coming to a likely conclusion.

Waylon had finished his procedure sometime during the night and had knocked over the monitors in his haste, or excitement. A twitch of my brows had a chair zoom near my location with two more right behind it. These physical movements were a crutch, a method of triggering my telekinetic powers, but it was beneath me and something I was working on first, minimizing, and finally, eliminating entirely.

"Waylon," I rumbled from my seat as I took a look at the larger man. He was no longer eight feet tall, but he was still pushing the larger side of six feet. His skin was now smooth, but when he turned around I still noticed the inhuman gracefulness of his movements. Waylon's body was no longer overly muscled, but he still had the fitness level of an apex predator.

I watched Waylon turn and then pause at the look that I was giving him. Without another word, Waylon took the seat and awaited my orders. Good, he still recognized who the alpha was here.

"Now answer me this seriously, do you still feel the call of the wild?" I asked Waylon as I summoned a scanner and a datapad. Waylon was obviously thinking over how to answer while I was scanning both his body, with my technology, and his mind, with my telepathy. Pamela had the datapad, while Harley was using the scanner in her capacity as nurse and assistant to scan his body.

The surface thoughts I picked up had a lot less of the animalistic rage that had previously colored all his thoughts and actions. That was a great sign that the procedure had worked in controlling and changing what the military had placed in him during their experiments.

"His vitals are steady, with no sign of rejection as far as we can tell," Pamela stated from my side as she looked over the information the datapad was receiving from the scanner.

"That's good," I replied as I continued to feel out the rest of Waylon's mind. There was a beep from the scanner in Harley's hand, letting us know that the scan was complete.

"Ta-da! All done," Harley chirped as she did a twirl before coming over to stand behind me. I was still waiting on Waylon's reaction as he had his eyes closed, paying close attention to his emotions. An animal did not experience the depth and breadth of complex emotions like a human did. I was scanning him so thoroughly, I could even feel the bio-organic nature of the vibranium nanites that I placed within his body at the start of this process. Still, I wanted him to elaborate on how he was feeling verbally.

"I can still feel the crocodile at the edges of my thoughts, but it's no longer so overwhelming," Waylon answered slowly as he opened his eyes. "It's almost as good as being able to see my old face again, feel my old skin again. Thank you for keeping your word. I don't even know how to begin to repay this debt."

"We can have that discussion at a later date," I replied as I looked over the next datapad that Pamela handed me. "Let's talk about these upgrades that you have. With my nanites still in your system you're a lot stronger than you used to be. I would put you much above Bane on venom overdose, but with the grace of a dancer.

With some retraining and physical therapy, of a sort, we can get you back up to the precision you had before the military experiments. Harley will be helping with that since her fighting style relies far more heavily on agility and grace than brute strength."

"I would like to suggest we also get him a new alias so that he could rejoin the workforce publicly," Pamela spoke up from my side with her hand on her chin in a thinking position.

"I will eventually need an official Chief of Security for my company, but for now, we can have him oversee the initial plans for the roller derby team. He can do that while he is going through his retraining," I replied, looking at her with a nod. "Mary might like to sponsor the team. Her bar is filled nightly with female villains."

At least that's what people often called them, whether that was an earned title or not. Many so-called 'villains' were just people who had been forced into crime because of an unwanted physical change or transformation, leaving them with few options to survive day-to-day besides a life of crime. A legal source of pay that didn't discriminate because of past actions or physical looks would be greatly appreciated, I'm sure, and engender extreme loyalty to me.

"Legit jobs and we get to bust asses?! Sign me up!" Harley yelled as she draped herself over Pamela's back.

Shaking my head fondly at her manner, I turned back to the large man before me.

"Waylon, hold up your hand, then think of transforming them into the claws you had before," I instructed, as I looked him in the eye. "Don't freak out, this is to show you the new capabilities of your body.

The grimace on his face said more than enough, but he did as I instructed. Slowly, Waylon's left hand came up before his fist loosened into a rough claw shape. Seconds went by as I watched his hands tense again and again. Before he had the chance to give up, I worked my way into his mind then triggered the semi-transformation manually to show him he could do it and how.

Instantly the nanites and his body responded to the transformation commands. Waylon's forearms thickened, followed by his fingers, before his nails became sharp pointed claws. His hands went from human to the deadly tools of an apex predator, within near moments.

The scrunching of his eyebrows and the surface thoughts I picked up from him told me enough.

"You now have control over a partial transformation. The things you will have to worry about is getting your head cut off and getting your heart shredded. Aside from those things, you will be a very hard man to kill. I expect you to practice with your new abilities until they are second nature," I said as I got up from my set.

"Once you get everything under control, we have some more shopping to do."

***

After leaving Waylon to it, I changed for my noon classes. I wanted that doctorate, the respect it would grant me, the doors it would open, and the title itself, of course, but more and more I thought I should pull a classic Doom move. That was to finish creating my nation and then just give myself the doctorate. I was reluctant to do that as my enemies would have a much easier time discounting its validity and thus acknowledging it if I simply granted it to myself.

Harley didn't want a driver, so she was going to go to the library to check on a few things and run her own errands, which I was fine with. Pamela was more than fine with staying home to test out the effects that vibranium had on her plants.

Honestly, it was far more interesting and valuable to me to finish learning the language of Apocalypse than attending classes, but thankfully I could multitask. Learning that language would allow me greater access to the universe at large, instead of asking the Justice League for passage. My pride refused to ask anyone for such a boon, though, which would become a weakness in my enemy's eyes and a debt I couldn't stomach. No, I would achieve that myself.

I zipped up my bomber jacket, which was sporting my personal symbol on the back, a roaring black dragon on a green field. One day it might even fly on my nation's flag. I threw a leg over my motorcycle before pulling on my helm.

The helmet was on, the visor was up, but once I closed the visor, the sound canceling technology kicked in as the augmented reality visor turned on as well. It was time to deal with my daily dose of the super annoying and nosy Bat-Clan, but once that was over with, I had some plans to set into motion.

With a sharp rev, I shot down the driveway heading to class. The life of a future King was filled with unpleasant tasks.

***

Somewhere in the Tibet Mountain range…

"You called for me, father?" A smooth and sultry voice asked, as the one it belonged to stepped out of the shadows.

"We have had news from our contacts in Gotham," stated Ra's al Ghul as he looked up from his paperwork. "The Jester is dead."

For a moment, there was silence between the two as Ra's looked his daughter in the eyes.

"Did he do it?" Talia asked with a whisper as she looked at her father with astonishment.

"No. He did not die at the hands of the Detective," Ra's stated emphatically, his features stern, his mouth a thin line. "It would seem that the Jester had someone that the new piece on the board wanted, so he removed him. Permanently."

Talia just stood there, stunned at the news she was hearing from her father. The madman had something someone wanted, so they killed him for it. It sounded so simple...and so crazy. How was it possible that this relative unknown had done it?

Somehow succeeding where so many others had failed over the years? The Jester was an extremely dangerous madman, unpredictable in the extreme, yet he always survived and invariably killed whoever came after him. Many of the League's best assassins had even failed.

"Does the detective know?" Talia heard someone ask, breaking her out of her thoughts, before she registered that it was she herself who had just asked the question aloud.

"No, but I want you to go to Gotham to test this 'Doom,' the man who finally ended the Jester," Ra's said as he moved the papers he had just signed to the other side of his desk in the outbound box. "You will let slip to the detective that he was the one to kill the Jester. This shall be the test between the two. Return with Doom if he is the victor."

"And Damian?" Talia asked her father, the Demon's Head.

"He shall stay with his nursemaid, they have said he is advanced for his age and is learning the pressure points well," Ra's replied, showing no hint of familial connection to his grandson and would-be heir.

"Thank you, father," Talia replied before turning to leave and carry out her orders.

"Do not return without Doom, if he is the victor," Ra's voice carried with it a hint of danger as Talia closed the door behind herself.

***

Another week had gone by while Waylon and Harley got used to their prospective upgrades. I, on the other hand, was going through school work like it was water. Test after test, project after project, everything placed before me was completed in record time.

Now though, I had finished another project and wanted to leave and not sit with the bat glare directed at me by Dick Grayson of all people. It would be so easy to tweak a blood vessel within his cerebral cortex. To remove him from my sight, but I knew that doing this would draw unwanted attention from not only the League but Superman.

There was no doubt in my mind that he would not be able to solve such a problem. And while he was in my thoughts. I would have to make good on my deal with the imp soon before he makes his displeasure known. Not willing to give in to his childish acts, I went over the work I wanted to be completed for Harley's frictionless hover skates. It would have been easy to pull out my notebook and work on the design in that. Or maybe use one of the datapads that I had stashed within my bag, but Doom knew better.

There was a little known fact that Barbara Gordon had an eidetic memory; this meant that she would be able to recall any design she might have caught a glimpse of me working on. It didn't take too long for the course to be over as I finished up the mental schematic I was working on.

I didn't know if I could suffer another month here before they could cut the first degree after I had completed a four-year course within three standard months since my enrollment.

Pulling on my helmet, I pulled out into traffic to pick up the parts I would need for Harley's new boots. I knew the prankster villain that the Flash always faces is located within Coast City, and that would be on the other side of the states, so there was no way I would be able to talk shop with him until I completed my work on the teleporter. I made a note to myself to have a conversation with Captain Cold or Mr. Freeze later. I'm sure they would like some business opportunities to fill their coffers with clean cash.

*****

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