Chapter 101: Doom's Misfortune

~Umbrella Corporation, Research Building~

Sean had just returned to his office and hadn't even sat down when Harry barged in, staring at him with the kind of look one might give a rare exhibit...

His lips moved hesitantly, as if he were struggling to find the right words.

"I'm not a stripper in a nightclub, so wipe that weird look off your face," Sean said, rubbing his temples.

Ever since returning from space, he'd been treated like an invalid, "I barely escaped Gwen and Dr. Connors' 'loving care'... If you want to celebrate my safe return, a bottle of champagne will suffice."

Seeing that his friend truly seemed fine, Harry exhaled in relief and slumped into a chair. He had been alarmed when news broke about Doom Industries' failed space experiment and had immediately called Dr. Connors, who confirmed Sean's safe return.

Still, the young Osborn heir couldn't shake his concern. As he often said, he didn't have many friends he could trust. Even his old buddy Peter had become awkward to be around after the whole Mary Jane debacle.

Sean picked up a cup of warm tea from his desk and sighed, "See this? I've been banned from alcohol and anything remotely stimulating. If I hadn't refused outright, Dr. Connors would've hired a private physician to give me a full workup."

At Victor Von Doom's private clinic, Sean had politely declined a medical exam, claiming he had his own doctor. In a world where technological barriers could be breached so easily, he was instinctively wary of blood tests or physical scans.

"Dr. Connors is right. You should get a full checkup. Take responsibility for your health, Sean," Harry said, uncharacteristically serious.

Sean shrugged, "I'll have the Red Queen run a full scan later. Truth is, I wasn't directly exposed to the energy storm. Reed and the others passed out because they took the brunt of the radiation."

It wouldn't be long before some shadowy government agency took notice of him, thanks to the Fantastic Four and Doctor Doom...

But that wasn't a major concern. Before the space mission, Sean had anticipated this. With six people on board, five of whom developed superhuman abilities, the public would naturally wonder about the sixth.

Right now, S.H.I.E.L.D.'s focus was likely still on Tony Stark...

Iron Man was the cornerstone of the Avengers Initiative, which was Nick Fury's plan to assemble Earth's mightiest heroes. Minor players like Sean wouldn't be a priority.

Besides, with Skynet's surveillance network, his reach extended across the globe... S.H.I.E.L.D. would have a hell of a time digging up anything unusual.

"Victor Von Doom isn't doing so hot these days," Harry remarked casually.

The would-be Doctor Doom had planned to go public after a successful space experiment. Instead, Reed's miscalculation led to catastrophic failure. Doom's massive investment evaporated, stocks plummeted below IPO levels, and investors were pulling out en masse.

Overnight, the Wall Street darling had fallen even harder than Oscorp months prior. Harry knew all too well how vulture-like bankers could be... once you lost your value, they'd pick you clean.

"I saw it coming. Barring a miracle, Victor Von Doom will be ousted by the board, and his company and patents will end up in the hands of greedy investors." Harry leaned back in his chair, his tone tinged with melancholy.

Months ago, he had been in the exact same position. Without Sean and Dr. Connors, he might've watched helplessly as his family's legacy was stolen.

Noticing the complexity in Harry's eyes, Sean smiled faintly, "The world has few who'll offer help in need... most prefer to kick you when you're down. But maybe Victor Von Doom still has a chance. Rather than being trampled into the mud, he might gamble everything on one last stand."

…..

~Doom Industries, Boardroom~

"Congratulations, Victor! Since the Great Depression, no company's stock has crashed this spectacularly. We couldn't give it away if we tried!"

Ned, the Wall Street representative, sat in Victor Von Doom's chair, oozing condescension.

Doom suppressed his rage. In the past, this man wouldn't have dared speak to him so arrogantly. Bankers had once groveled at his feet. But one failed project had flipped the script.

"You have one week to fix this," Ned said, straightening his suit as he stood. He'd long despised Doom's arrogance.

If not for the profits, who would tolerate some upstart from a backwater nation like Latveria? No elite education, just a few decent patents... and suddenly, he thought himself untouchable.

Wall Street was full of overnight successes, but most faded into obscurity. Temporary wins meant nothing.

True entry into high society required connections, hence Doom's pursuit of Susan Storm...

As Ned strode out, followed by the spineless board members, the room emptied, leaving only Doom and his assistant.

The mask of calm shattered. Doom's face darkened with fury. These Wall Street leeches thought they could discard him and steal his company!

A scar on his temple twitched as he slammed a fist onto the table, "What's the stock situation?"

"It's still falling. Conservative estimates put it in the low 20s, worse than Oscorp or Stark Industries during their crises," his assistant reported.

Doom's vision swam. The scar pulsed.

'All of this is Reed's fault.' The rage inside him boiled like oil and was ready to ignite.

He had trusted Reed, believed in him more than Reed believed in himself. During their college days, Reed's genius had seemed infallible.

If Reed said it, it must be true. That had been Doom's conviction.

Yet here he was, ruined by Reed's "minor" miscalculation.

"Go back to Latveria. That backwater nation is where you belong." Ned's mocking words echoed in his mind.

Doom's eyes burned with feral intensity, he was like a cornered wolf with nothing left to lose.

His fists clenched. And Unnoticed by him, the lights in the room flickered. A crackle of electricity danced through the air...