Meadows Lament

In Promo, Victor Doom by Victor Doom

In the few months of my existence I had some meaning to my father, in between the endless training and constant machinary attached to every single nerve, he allowed me the smallest courtesy of a singular book for recreation.

The aptly titled Frankenstein. 

I have seen many walk these halls, seen the good righteous soul wrongfully imprisoned. Those who simply lost their way and made a few bad decisions and the truly despicable, soulless dredges of society who deserved to rot for eternity in a darkness even Hades himself wouldn’t dare tread.

But the thing is, even the most vile of villains that roam these halls are simply following their instinctual nature. The serial killers murder because something inside gives them a thrill, Black and Gray both fight to feel anything but the emptiness inside, both Pym and Haywire do whatever the voices inside their broken little minds tell them to and Landucci…well that boy has been coerced to follow authorative voices since he was pampers. 

Very few people in this world have a choice in who they are. But you Maxwell have always had that choice and yet you consistantly choose the wrong path, believing it will grant you wisdom and power beyond your wildest dreams when all it has done is spark the ire of your own decimation.

How many monsters have you created Meadows? How many people want your blood running down their hands? Oh sure you got your little goon squad to wipe out one or two but the most resiliant still have you in their sights. A simple concession, a little help here and there and good old Joey wouldn’t be inches away from wrapping his hands around your throat. A little intelligence and you wouldn’t have one of the most dangerous killers breathing down your neck, least to say what Joey’s brother will do to you if you harm a hair on his head. 

The problems for you Maxwell grow abundant but they’ll soon fade away. Because this little war doesn’t matter, your little fight with Thorpe and Thorpe Snr won’t ever happen.

Because you failed to heed the true warning in the tale of Frankenstein.

See, the monster wasn’t some mindless animal, he was intelligent, cultured, calculating. All he wanted from his maker was someone who understood him, and when Frankenstein made his bride and took them away, he decided to take everything away from Frankenstein.

All you had to do was let me go and allow me my revenge. One little slip through the cracks, there’d be one Doom left and you’d won this day but now, a singular No will be the last wrong decision you ever make.

Watch as we drown the noxious in their own fecal scum, listen as he slams his skull against the post until there is nothing but a paste of blood and failed memories. Scream as the clown’s laughter echoes into silence and tremble as you watch everything you sold your soul for burn into ash.

All you had to do was give me Doom.

Now yours is nigh with a single