The vast throne room of Latveria was silent save for the faint hum of unseen technology. Doctor Doom, regal upon his throne, fixed Ranger with an expectant, imperious gaze.
"Give Spider-Man a happy life." Ranger stated, the words simple, almost mundane, yet in this context, utterly audacious. He delivered the line with a calm, almost detached air, as if requesting a minor adjustment to the castle's thermostat.
A flicker of something unreadable – confusion, perhaps even a nascent irritation – crossed the usually impassive metal of Doom's mask. His tone, when he spoke, was dangerously cold, like the chill wind sweeping across Latverian peaks. "You dare stand within the hallowed halls of Castle Doom, having invoked the name of Richards and his alleged failures, only to utter such… triviality? You presume to make a mockery of Doom? A simple thing as this, and you claim Richards is incapable?" The words were heavy with disdain.
"Of course, he is incapable." Ranger replied, his voice a silken counterpoint to Doom's metallic resonance. He paced a few steps, his movements fluid, unhurried, as if he were discussing philosophy rather than challenging a monarch.
"In all his vaunted, elastic genius, that man, Reed Richards, might as well be a beautifully complex, yet ultimately unfeeling, block of intricate machinery. To him, 'happiness' is likely reducible to a predictable chemical reaction, a mere surge of serotonin and dopamine. A quaint biological imperative." Ranger paused, a faint, almost pitying smile touching his lips. "Richards, I suspect, would never have truly grasped the concept of happiness, let alone its delicate architecture, had he not been fortunate enough to find himself tethered to the radiant heart of Sue Storm. She is the sun around which his cold intellect orbits, lending it a borrowed warmth."
Doom remained silent, his posture unyielding, but Ranger could almost feel the gears of that formidable mind whirring. The theatrical silence was a hallmark of Doom's, a calculated pause to weigh, to analyze, to intimidate.
"And pray tell, Ranger." Doom finally intoned, his voice resonating with carefully controlled power, "How would orchestrating a 'good life' for this… arachnid interloper… serve to elevate Doom above Richards? Wherein lies the challenge worthy of Doom's intellect, his boundless resources?"
Ranger let out a soft, almost mournful laugh, a sound that seemed to echo in the cavernous hall. "Ah, Dr. Doom, that is the exquisite jest of it all. You will know its worth when you undertake the task. You will comprehend its monumental difficulty, its near impossibility, when you attempt to weave a tapestry of joy for a soul so consistently besieged." He gestured expansively. "And when you succeed, when you finally bestow upon this one tormented creature a measure of genuine, lasting contentment… then, Victor, even the cynical, weary world itself might just bow its head in begrudging admiration of Doctor Doom. Not for his power, which is undeniable, but for achieving what gods and mortal geniuses alike have deemed beyond their grasp."
Ranger's suit, with a subtle shimmer, began to radiate a soft holographic light. Images, ethereal and shifting, coalesced in the air between them. "This arachnid, as you so clinically call him, is not merely a man in a colorful suit. He is entangled in a veritable cosmic tapestry of problems, a Gordian knot of suffering."
The hologram flickered, showing fleeting glimpses: a vast, glowing Web, shadowy figures with predatory eyes, the anguished face of Spider-Man himself. "Consider the Web of Life and Destiny, a concept so grand it makes mortal ambition seem like child's play. Add to that the burden of being a Spider-Totem, a conduit for primal forces. Then, there are the Inheritors, a multiversal family whose sole purpose, whose very culture, is the hunting and consumption of his kind across all realities."
The hologram shifted again, showing snippets of a complicated, often heartbreaking, romantic life, interspersed with images of profound hardship, of victories turned to ash.
"His love life is a tragedy penned by a drunken poet. His entire existence is a testament to resilience in the face of relentless adversity. It is almost a cosmic law: whenever a flicker of true happiness graces the spider, the universe conspires to make him weep all the harder, as if to balance some unseen, cruel equation." Ranger's voice took on a theatrical, almost bardic quality. "There are… forces at play, Dr. Doom. Some might call them writers, a collective of scribes who seem to have made it their sacred mission to ensure this arachnid never knows lasting peace. A self-insert, perhaps, of a particularly vindictive author who despises his own creation's potential for joy. And then, there are simply more… and more… and more layers of misfortune."
The hologram now focused, sharpening to show a different scene: a Reed Richards, not of this world but undeniably Richards, looking weary, defeated, surrounded by complex equations and data streams that all seemed to lead to a single, frustrating conclusion. This Richards, Ranger explained, was from a universe where he was deemed the undisputed smartest man alive, a mind so potent he could foil his own Doom's grandest schemes before they even began.
"This Richards." Ranger said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, "his entire universe was but a plaything for his intellect. Yet, he gladly, eagerly, took up the challenge of granting his Spider-Man a happy life."
The hologram shifted, showing this alternate Doom, a look of utter desolation on his metal face as he knelt in defeat before his Richards, who didn't even spare him a glance. Doom clenched his visible fist, a low growl rumbling in his chest at the sight of any Doom, even a counterpart, so utterly vanquished by a Richards. Then, the scene returned to the haggard Mr. Fantastic, who finally threw his hands up in despair.
"If my memory is precise." Ranger continued, his eyes glinting with a knowing, taunting light, "his exact words upon admitting defeat were, 'No mortal, no god, no cosmic entity, can ever truly grant Spider-Man a life of unblemished happiness. It is an exercise in futility.'"
Ranger let that hang in the air, then leaned forward, his voice dripping with mock sympathy. "Yet here I stand, before you, Victor Von Doom. A Doom I believe to be… demonstrably superior to his less fortunate counterparts. After all." a smirk played on Ranger's lips, "you've encountered the Old Man, haven't you? The one who weaves these little realities together? And if memory serves, you even made sure he flew coach on his way out of Latveria." He chuckled. "You, Doom, made the architect of this very universe fly coach. A masterstroke of petty, glorious dominance."
He paused, letting Doom savor that particular memory. "And let me assure you, Doom, even that Old Man, with all his narrative power, does not possess the capability to simply will happiness into existence for Peter Parker. It is, it would seem, beyond even his considerable, often arbitrary, control."
Ranger then produced two items, seemingly from nowhere, held out on his open palm. One was a small, intricately carved device, humming with an unfamiliar energy. The other, unmistakably, was a glowing, crimson gem – the Reality Stone. "
"Of course, Doom, I have brought the customary tribute for such an audacious request. A ticket, shall we say, to the very universe where your counterpart suffered his most ignominious defeat at the hands of Richards. And this." he gestured to the Stone, "a bauble you might find… useful in your endeavors. Consider it an advance on services rendered."
He looked directly at Doom, his gaze sharp, challenging. "So, tell me, Victor Von Doom. Can you, or can you not, succeed where the 'smartest man' of another universe so spectacularly failed? Can you ensure that one Peter Parker, against all cosmic and narrative odds, achieves a measure of genuine, lasting happiness?" He leaned in one last time, his voice a silken dagger. "After all, Victor… even Reed Richards couldn't do it."
Doom rose slowly from his throne, his armored form seeming to swell with an almost visible aura of outrage and indomitable will. His eyes, visible through the slits of his mask, burned with a cold, furious fire.
"You dare compare Doom to that… insignificant, defeated variation?!" Doom thundered, his voice echoing with metallic rage. "That Richards may have bested a lesser Doom, but he did not face this Doom! Doom shall give his royal word. And Doom… shall not fail! That arachnid will know happiness, if only to prove, once and for all, the utter, undeniable superiority of Doom over any and all who bear the name Richards!"
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The biting cold Latverian wind whipped around the high ramparts of Castle Doom, but Ranger, standing beside the imposing figure of Doctor Doom, seemed unfazed. Below them, Doomstadt unfolded like a meticulously crafted diorama. Snow-dusted rooftops, orderly streets, and the surprisingly joyful sounds of children playing drifted up, a stark contrast to the grim news filtering in from the rest of the war-torn world. Citizens moved with a purpose, a sense of security, that was becoming a rare commodity elsewhere.
"It's a curious irony, isn't it?" Ranger observed, his voice a low murmur against the wind, his gaze sweeping over the capital. "One of the few nations on this planet still breathing the air of peace, while the rest of the world eagerly cannibalizes itself. A veritable island of order in a sea of escalating chaos."
"Doom has no regard for the self-inflicted maladies of lesser nations." Doom stated, his voice resonating with its characteristic metallic timbre. He stood, arms crossed, a graven monarch surveying his domain. "The world that does not recognize the inherent superiority of Doom's rule, that chooses to wallow in its own ineptitude and discord, is a world that has forfeited any claim to Doom's concern. Let them reap the whirlwind they have sown."
"I believe you." Ranger said, turning to face Doom. The statement was simple, devoid of flattery, yet it carried a weight of sincerity that seemed to momentarily surprise the Latverian ruler. A subtle, almost imperceptible shift in Doom's posture, a slight tilt of the metal mask, was the only indication. "In this fractured, desperate iteration of reality, Doom, if there is one individual possessing the intellect, the will, and the sheer audacity to impose a semblance of functional order, to be a proper ruler… it is undeniably you."
A beat of silence, then: "Doom appreciates an individual capable of recognizing self-evident truths." Doom conceded, a hint of what might pass for regal satisfaction in his tone. This, from Doom, was high praise.
"Don't I just?" Ranger replied, a wry smirk playing on his lips. He then reached into an unseen compartment of his suit and produced the Reality Stone. It pulsed with a crimson light, contained within a shimmering, crackling field of blue Turbo energy. With a casual flick of his wrist, he tossed it towards Doom. "My offering, as agreed. For services yet to be rendered."
Doom caught the Stone effortlessly, the Turbo energy encasing it dissipating like mist in the wind as it neared his gauntlet. For a moment, he studied the gem, its malevolent beauty reflecting in the polished eye-slits of his mask. Then, with a gesture, the Stone's power briefly flared, its crimson energy washing over his armor, a subtle, almost imperceptible shimmer that spoke of an instantaneous analysis, perhaps even a minor integration or test of its properties.
"A suitable offering." Doom acknowledged, the Stone still cradled in his armored palm. "Potent. Its capabilities are… noteworthy as before." Then, to Ranger's surprise, Doom extended his hand, offering the Reality Stone back. "However, Doom accepts payment after the task is successfully completed. Not before. Doom's honor, unlike that of lesser men, is not for sale, nor is it predicated on advance compensation."
Ranger hesitated for a fraction of a second before taking the Stone back, the Turbo energy re-enveloping it as it settled into his grasp. This was unexpected yet expected. A display of Doom's peculiar, unyielding code.
"Doom adheres to his own principles." Doom stated, as if sensing Ranger's unspoken thought. "And since Doom has, however briefly, utilized the energies of your… offering without due recompense, consider this information a matter of balancing the scales." He turned slightly, his cape swirling dramatically in the wind, a gesture that always seemed to punctuate his pronouncements.
"Doom advises you to exercise extreme caution in the coming days, Ranger. The ancient one, En Sabah Nur, has taken an unwelcome interest in your… unique capabilities. Apocalypse has his eyes upon you. That is a gaze few can withstand for long."
With that cryptic warning delivered, Doctor Doom turned and strode away along the rampart, his armored boots ringing against the stone, his cape billowing behind him like the standard of an indomitable will.
He offered no further explanation, no pleasantries, no dismissal. He simply departed, leaving Ranger alone with the chilling wind, the Reality Stone, and the unsettling knowledge that one of the oldest and most powerful mutants in existence was now aware of him.
Ranger watched him go, a thoughtful expression on his face. Doom's brand of honor was as complex and formidable as the man himself. This "warning" was not an act of altruism, Ranger knew. It was a transaction. Information for the temporary use of power. Or perhaps, it was merely another move in the elaborate, never-ending game Doom played with the world, and with anyone unfortunate, or audacious, enough to enter his orbit.
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Would you look at that. Ranger is from another Marvel Universe. Maybe that's why his powerset is mature. Maybe that's why Black Widow is the end goal.
Who knows?
Give Spiderman a happy life.
A mind boggling mission that not even Marvel is able to do. How can Doom and Ranger do it?
Well that's not going to happen very soon. Maybe in the course of few volumes where few interesting events are done. Won't say much cause Spoliers but it will be an interesting one.
So, yeah this is one of the main goal of our MC. Why? Who knows? And all I can say is its not cause he had pity on the horrible treatment the Marvel writer do to Spiderman.
SO, yeah this plot point is going to be one of the three major plot of the fanfic.
Cause the writer have made sure that Spiderman life stays a living hell.