Prologue

A group of men sat around a table, heatedly discussing various matters of state.

"Crop production is down 53%! If we don't get some help, our people will starve!!" One man said.

Another man pounded on the table. "Crops, nothing! If we don't get some more funding for our military, any nation with pea-shooters will be able to invade us!"

"The people need jobs," a third man interjected. "Without jobs, our economy will collapse!!"

On it went, while the man at the head of the table, the newly elected Prime Minister, merely sat and wondered how it had come to this. They of the Latverian National Democratic Party had such high ideals for their homeland. They had waited for their moment to invade this castle and topple the dictator who had reigned from here.

However, before a single shot could have been fired, the dictator died at the hands of his American enemies…drowned in the frigid waters of the Arctic. The LNDP were able to practically able to just walk in and establish a new democratic government.

That was several months ago. Now, the country that once prospered under HIS rule, not teetered on the edge of economic and social collapse. They were now a joke to the outside world where once HE had made them strong. "How did HE do it?" the Prime Minister wondered to himself, as the buffoons around the table squabbled. "Where we are unable to accomplish the simplest goods for our people, he once forged us into a mighty nation! Were we…wrong to want his downfall? For the sake of our people, I almost wish he would retu-"

Suddenly, the northern wall of the room blasted inward with a shower of ancient mortar and glass. The men were scattered like tenpins by the force of the explosion. For a few moments, all was still as dust and smoke created a nearly blinding haze throughout the room. The men, some groaning, some hurt, began to rouse themselves when, through the newly created entryway, a solitary figure entered. He was obscured to those present by the choking haze in the air, but they all recognized him imperious presence immediately. He raised one arm, and a beam of pure force emanated from his palm, utterly disintegrating everyone in the room. They didn't even have time to scream.

The shadowed figure looked around briefly, clenched his outstretched hand into a fist, and said stoically,

"Rex Mundi."

"COLD WAR, HOT NIGHTS"
Part I

by Jason Eberly

Natasha Romanoff detested politics.

True, she had been a spy for the former Soviet Union, but that was due to a pride for her country, and to honor the memory of her supposedly dead husband*. That did not mean, however, that she agreed with her former communist masters, the bureaucrats in her adopted homeland, or any of the other various political systems around the world.

* (Alexi Shostakov, the original Red Guardian, was revealed to be alive, and then appeared to die again, in Avengers (Vol. 1) #'s 43 and 44. ~Jason)

So as the representative from the Symkarian embassy sat in her office, telling her that she had been summoned to appear before the Symkarian chief of security, she felt her patience thinning by the moment..

"We'll see if I can fit you into the schedule here at Widow's Peak Enterprises. Mister Peak? Are we able to accommodate the Symkarians this week?" Natasha asked.

Mister Peak looked quizzically at Natasha as he scratched his chest a bit. He pulled a daily planner from inside the desk and flipped it open to the current date, then flopped it in front of Natasha. She glanced down to see only blank pages facing her.

"Yes," Mister Peak said. "I think we might be able to squeeze them in."

"Ms. Sable? Ms. Romanoff is here to see you."

Silver Sable paused from her workout and turned to the doorman. "Thank you, James. Send her in." She grabbed a towel hanging nearby as James opened the doors fully to the gym within the Symkarian Embassy. Natasha walked in and walked up to Silver.

"You are interested in hiring me?" Natasha asked.

Silver seemed unplussed by Natasha's lack of pleasantries as she wiped her brow. "Perhaps. Your name was recommended to one of my people by Anthony Stark at a function recently*. He was told that you are willing to sell your services for…subtle endeavors."

* (Anthony Stark is, of course, the Avenger known as Iron Man, and is giving good word of mouth for Widow's Peak Enterprises as a favor to Natasha. See Black Widow #'s 3-5. ~Jason)

"That's one way of putting it." Natasha said as she smiled slightly. "What sort of 'subtle endeavor' are you looking to hire me for?"

Silver picked up a manila folder from a nearby table, and handed it to Natasha. The ex-Soviet spy opened it as Silver Sable explained.

"As I'm sure you know," Silver began, "Symkaria is a small nation in Eastern Europe. We have retained autonomy for hundreds of years, repelling the advances of the British Empire, Napolean, the Germans in both World Wars, and your own Soviet masters." Natasha flipped through several scenic pictures of Silver Sable's homeland. "After World War II," Silver continued, " my father created the Wild Pack, an elite group of soldiers, to hunt down escaped Nazi war criminals. In recent times, the Wild Pack has come under my control. However, since there are not many Nazis left in today's world, I changed the Pack into a mercenary force. The money we bring in goes to keeping our country financially stable."

Natasha looked at a picture of a Wild Pack soldier. They wore orange helmets and vests with blue jumpsuits beneath. "The history lesson is indeed interesting, but may we get to your problem?" Natasha asked.

"Symkaria has held a tenuous peace with one of its neighboring countries," Silver Sable continued on, not acknowledging Natasha's comments. "I'm sure you've heard of it? Latveria, home of the dictator-"

"Doctor Doom." Natasha finished, as she looked at the picture of the ruthless armored monarch in front of her.

Silver resumed her debriefing. "Yes, Doctor Doom. Though Symkaria has never condoned his megalomaniacal tendencies, we have also never made any hostile actions against him. Nor he against us." Silver looked directly at Natasha. "At least, until recently. A group of Latverian insurgents had recently taken refuge in our country, asking for our help to overthrow Doom. My country decided to provide weapons to these men, hoping that perhaps they could overthrow Doom before the madman decided to turn his power-hungry eyes towards his neighbors. However, before they could even make a move, Doom kidnapped Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four, and apparently died in the Arctic*."

* (M2K's Fantastic Four #35. ~Jason)

"Yes, just a few weeks ago." Natasha said.

"Precisely," Silver agreed. "After Doom's apparent death, the insurgents, known as the Latverian National Democratic Party, or LNDP, returned to Latveria and took over without having to fire a shot."

"Then what is the problem?" Natasha asked. "Doom is gone, a political party thankful to Symkaria is in charge…all seems to be under control."

"That would be the case," Silver stated, "If Doom had actually died."

Natasha looked up. "Doom's still alive?"

"Yes," Silver replied. "And already back in control of Latveria. He wiped out the entire LNDP in reclaiming his throne just two days ago. This is where you come in. We need you to go into Latveria, and discover what knowledge Doom has, if any, of Symkaria's involvement with the LNDP."

Natasha looked at Silver. "You would like me to sneak into the country of the world's most ruthless and powerful dictator in order to find out if, how do they say it? Oh, yes, 'got caught with your hand in the cookie jar'?"

"Yes."

"Why not use one of your own people?"

"Deniability," Silver stated. "With your ties to SHIELD and the Avengers, Doom might not suspect the Symkarians sent you if you are caught. Plus, to be honest, you are expendable. I don't want to have to pay death benefits or the cost to replace any of my agents."

Natasha looked down at the envelope, considered for a moment, then looked back at Silver Sable. "I'll do it. Give me three days to prepare."

"You're going where?"

Mister Peak looked incredulously at Natasha, but she merely repeated, "Latveria."

"Are you bloody daft, Natasha?" he exclaimed. "That Doom bloke's a madman that puts Saddam to shame. We had a dossier at MI-6 on him a mile long!"

"And the Avengers have one on him two miles long!" Natasha snapped. "But we need the money, and this is why we started this business. We knew it was dangerous going in."

"But Latveria?? How do you even plan on getting into the country?" Peak asked.

Natasha pulled a map out of the dossier folder Silver Sable had given her. "Symkaria and Latveria have relatively good trade relations with each other, at least on a small scale. Mostly marketplace items. Livestock, crops, handmade goods, and the like. Doom and the Symkarian government decided years ago, in the interest of safety, that only one road will be officially used between the two countries. Here." She pointed to a road that intersected the two countries. "This is where I go in."

Peak pointed to the mountains north of the trade road. "Why not sneak in over the mountains here? Or to the south? Why walk directly into the lion's mouth?"

"Doom will be looking in those places for someone to sneak into his country. I'm taking the road in because it's the most obvious place to look, therefore the last place he'll suspect."

Peak threw up his hands in frustration. "There's some fine Russian logic for you! What am I to do during this mission?"

"Whatever you want. The key to this mission is secrecy. I won't be in contact with anyone, for fear that Doom would intercept any transmissions, be it electrical or physical."

Peak scratched his chest. "Blasted secretary, that's what I've been turned into…"

Natasha gave Peak a peck on the cheek. "Think of it this way, my friend. You could be trying to sneak into Latveria, unaided and alone."

He pondered for a second, then smiled. "Too true, my dear. When do you leave?"

"Three days," she replied. "So I'd better start practicing my Latverian now."

Three days later, Natasha left New York on an ocean liner headed across the Atlantic. It was booked under an assumed name so as to keep as low a profile as possible. The trip was uneventful, and in due course she arrived in Spain. From there, she rode by train east until she arrived in Symkaria. She then bought a beat-up truck and drove east to the town of Feaselburg, just 30 miles from the border of Latveria, where Silver and Natasha were to rendezvous.

Natasha reached the cottage they were supposed to meet at, parked the truck, and walked up to the door. A quick rap on the old entryway and the door opened. Standing on the inside was an old man, who asked, "<<May I help you, Miss?>>*"

* (Translated from Symkarian. ~Multi-lingual Jason)

"<<Yes,>>" Natasha replied. "<<'I am here to check for rats'.>>" This was the code phrase that would enable her to enter the rendezvous point. The man nodded, moved to the side, and allowed Natasha to enter. Inside, Silver Sable was waiting.

"Are you ready to begin, Widow?" Silver asked.

"Yes." Natasha replied. "Do you have the merchandise?"

"We have a hundred hand-made rugs currently being loaded on your vehicle outside." Silver stated. "They will not only support your cover, but should also enable you to cover any expenses you may incur while staying in Latveria. Do you have any questions?"

"None."

"Good luck, then."

Natasha, dressed in traditional Symkaria wear, cruised along the well-maintained trade road in her used pickup. She had dyed her trademarked red tresses jet black, and had it tied up in a tight bun atop her head. Her Black Widow apparel and accessories were in a hidden compartment of her suitcase, which sat under her seat.

Around her was a scene almost straight out of a fairy tale, with lush foliage, rolling hills, and warm sunshine. Natasha found it hard to believe that such a beautiful land could have produced such a monster like Victor Von Doom.

Just ahead, she saw the border post leading into Latveria. She stopped when she reached the gate blocking the road, and watched carefully as two guards walked out of the small building by the side of the road. They were dressed in military uniforms, and carried small devices that looked like PDA*'s. Over their shoulders, advanced looking rifles hung. This was indeed the land of the brilliant Doctor Doom.

* (PDA=Personal Directory Assistant. ~The Upwardly Mobile Jason)

One guard walked to the rear of the truck, while the other approached the driver side winow.

"<<What business have you in Latveria?>>" the guard asked, pointing his small device at her. It beeped and whistled. Natasha assumed it was a scanner of some sort, most likely checking her physical stats and appearance against Latveria's enemies. Natasha had expected this, and had come with a small device built into a small pendant she wore. It was designed to emit a signal that would confuse broadcast signals, therefore making her mostly invisible to most security devices.

The guard stood for a few moments, tinkering with the small device in his hand, knocked it against the heel of his hand a few times, then sighed with resignation. "We'll have to do this the old-fashioned way. Papers and purpose of visiting Latveria, please?"

Natasha handed her papers to the guard. "<<I am here to sell my rugs at the Doomstadt marketplace. I have a permit from your government, and here is my passport.>>"

The guard took the papers, and looked them over. He then called to the guard looking and scanning the cargo in the rear of the truck. "<<Everything look okay back there?>>" he asked.

The guard at the rear of the truck called back. "<<Yes, everything appears to be fine here. Just some rugs. Very nice quality.>>"

"<<Thank you!>>" Natasha said as she smiled and waved at the guard admiring the rugs. "<<If I have any left when I return, I shall give you a good deal on them.>>"

"<<Yes, yes, that is very nice of you,>> the first guard said impatiently. "<<Now, I'm sure you know the laws here in Latveria. You are not to do anything contrary to what Lord Doom wishes, and if you do, your life is possibly forfeit. Do you understand?>>"

<<I do.>>" Natasha replied.

With that, the guard pushed a button on his console, and the gate to Latveria lifted. Natasha put her truck into drive, and continued on. As she passed through into Latveria, she could hear hidden weaponry in the trees and bushes around the truck following her.

A several hour drive bough Natasha to the capital city of Doomstadt, named after its egomaniacal ruler. The city was spotless; not a piece of litter or a rundown building could be seen. All the people were polite and busy, as they had been commanded to be by their monarch, who watched over them in the castle that loomed over the large village.

Natasha drove to the marketplace, paid a small amount to rent a booth, and set her goods up on display. She would play the role of merchant until she could figure the best course for obtaining the information she was looking for. She realized that the most likely place to find it would be in Castle Doom, but she would like to avoid that, if possible. She wasn't with the Avengers anymore, and even the Defenders, the team she sometimes associated with these days, were beyond her reach if she were to get caught in Doom's fortress.

So Natasha spent the next two days peddling her carpets to the village townspeople, and those who had traveled from other areas of Latveria, including many gypsies. Unlike the rest of the Latverians, who acted happy, but whose eyes always looked nervous and worried, the gypsies were truly content. Doom, Natasha had read, had been a gypsy growing up, and did not treat them with the disdain that most societies had. They no longer had to fear persecution, for Doom watched over them with what could almost be called familial love, if love could be found in Von Doom's heart. Anyone who messed with a gypsy unjustly dared the wrath of Doctor Doom.

On the third day, a complement of Doom's troops came to the marketplace under the semblance of checking the security of the market, but more accurately to flex their authority and remind them of Doom's return to power. They were led by a thin man with extremely sharp features, almost as if his face had been chiseled out of stone. He wore the uniform of a Latverian officer; a major, if Natasha remembered correctly. He meandered his way toward Natasha's booth, and stopped when he reached it. The troops stopped in line behind him. He looked at her intently for what seemed an eternity.

"I…have not seen you here before.*" he said slowly to Natasha. He looked her up and down in a way that made Natasha feel like she needed a shower.

* (Translated, like pretty much everything else in the rest of this story, from the Latverian. ~Translatin' Jason)

"No, sir," Natasha began, trying to appear demure and intimidated. She wanted to match his stare, but knew that could easily cause trouble. "Here are my papers." She handed him her falsified documents.

He opened them, looked them over, and dropped them on the ground between them. "Ah…a Symkarian." He spit out the word 'Symkarian' like just the sound of it was distasteful in his mouth. He turned to the half-dozen soldiers behind him. "We have had suspicions that the Symkarians are planning to invade the peace-loving nation of Latveria." He smiled with malice as he spoke. "I feel it is in the interest of national security that we…inspect…this woman's handiwork, and check her booth for any evidence of espionage."

Natasha knew that the major was just saying this in order to give cause to persecute her, but she briefly wondered what the military man would say if he knew how close his scenario was to the truth. She did not have long to ponder this, however, as the soldiers began ransacking her display. They began ripping up her rugs, 'searching for bugs or other dangers to the safety of Latveria' they said. What they didn't destroy, they kept for themselves, supposedly to 'investigate more thoroughly at a later date'. Meanwhile, the major just stood back, a thin smile spread across his face as he enjoyed the results of his handiwork.

Knowing she had to keep her cover identity, Natasha ran up to the major. "Please, oh, please," she pleaded. "My family depends on the money from this to live! This will be sentencing us to starvation!!" She hated the sound of her pleas, but she also knew that without the income from the rug sales, she wouldn't be able to take her time looking for what she had come for.

"I am truly sorry, my dear." The major stated with mock sympathy. "I'm merely doing my job here. However…" he said as he bent down close to her, and whispering so only she could hear him, "I know of another way you could make some money to feed your family. Meet me this evening at the tavern. Wear something…uncomplicated."

Through tears that Natasha had forced out, she looked at the rat-faced Latverian and nodded.

He seemed pleased. "Good. Come along, men…it's time to move on!" With that, the soldiers gathered up their spoils and followed the major into the distance.

Unknowingly, the major had given Natasha just the opportunity she had been hoping for.

That night, Natasha left her room at the local inn, and headed to the only tavern in town. She had a few concealed miniature recording devices built into the jewelry she wore, like a miniature camera built into her necklace pendant, and a digital recorder built into a ring she wore. She also brought a sedative hidden in a secret compartment on another ring, just in case. She stopped before entering the bar, checked herself over to make sure she looked all right, and entered.

She immediately felt like she had stepped into another time. The tavern looked almost identical to pictures of 1930s burlesque bars in Germany. Rough wooden tables were barely illuminated by a single light bulb hanging over each one, while the rest of the tavern was quite dark. A small stage sat at one end, a man upon it reciting some poem glorifying Doctor Doom. A few patrons sat at the various tables, either watching the man on the stage, or holding hushed conversations with each other.

After her eyes adjusted to the dim light, she saw the major sitting in the far corner. He was trying hard to blend into the darkness, for it would not be prudent for an officer to be seen with a peasant, let alone a Symkarian peasant. Natasha approached him and he motioned for her to sit down.

"Ah, nice to see you decided to show." he said.

"I…I have no choice," Natasha said, her head lowered as if in shame. "My family cannot survive without the money I was to bring home."

"You understand what you have to do for this money?"

"Yes."

"Very good. Would you like to go someplace private now?"

"Can…can we have a drink or two first?" Natasha asked.

The man snapped his fingers in the air. "But of course! I am not a savage, my dear. I took the liberty of ordering a bottle of Latverian scotch, just in case you needed…encouragement."

Natasha felt slimier by the minute, but she had a plan, and the major was being accommodating enough to fall right into it. Moments later, a barkeep brought a bottle and two glasses to their table, and quickly disappeared again. The major poured a small amount in both glasses, and slid one over to her.

He then picked up his glass. "To mutual delights!" he toasted. Natasha picked up her glass and tapped it against his. They both downed the shots and placed the glasses back on the table. The major promptly refilled their glasses.

Forty-five minutes passed, and much of the bottle was gone. By this time, the major had insisted that Natasha sit next to him. "You may be a citizen of a dog-like country," he slurred, twirling a few strands of her hair in his fingers. "Bur you're a verrry beaut'ful one."

Natasha merely smiled and said, "Thank you…I think."

"C'mon," he said, standing up and wobbling slightly. "Le's get out of here."

Natasha stood up, wobbling a bit herself, and giggled. "Would you like to come back to my room?" she asked him.

"Heh," the major chuckled. "I knew you wouldn't be able to handle your liquor. Lead th' way."

They wobbled their way out of the tavern, and back the several blocks to the hostel Natasha had rented a room at. The major practically drooled on her the entire way back. They made their way up the stairs from the lobby and down the hallway to her room. Natasha opened the door, and pulled the major inside. She led him to the bed, and let him flop down on it. He put his arms around her and tried to pull her toward him. However, she put her arms against him and pushed him away.

"Not yet," she said. "I want to fix you a drink first."

The major smiled drunkenly at her. "Hah! You just want to get me as drunk as you are. But I c'n outdrrink Doom hisself!" he boasted.

Natasha quickly got up and wobbled slightly over to a table, where a bucket filled with ice and a bottle of champagne sat. She popped the cork, and poured some into a glass that was also sitting on the table. She then blocked the major's view with her body, and poured the powdery contents of a small pouch into the glass. She stirred it briefly with her finger, and turned back toward the major. "Here you go," she said as she handed the glass to him.

He downed it in one gulp, threw the glass against the far wall, and patted the bed next to him. Natasha sat down next to him. She then slid behind him, and put her hands onto his shoulders, kneading them. "Now, just relax," she said to him. "We will start with the important stuff in just a few minutes."

She massaged his shoulders until she could feel him begin to slouch forward, indicating that the drug she had given him was taking effect. She moved to the side, and laid the major's head down on the bed. A glazed look covered his eyes. Natasha figured she could finally stop the tipsy act that she had put on the last couple hours. The major may have boasted that he could outdrink Von Doom, but Natasha knew that a Russian could outdrink anyone. Almost half a bottle of scotch and she didn't even have a buzz.

"What is your name?" Natasha asked.

"Major Hans Weil," the major said flatly.

"Good," Natasha thought. "The sodium penathol has made him extremely receptive to questioning." She then asked out loud, "What are your current orders?"

"To protect the streets of Latveria until it is time for us to begin the occupation."

" Who are you going to occupy?" Natasha asked, already fearing she knew the answer.

"Symkaria."

"When is this occupation supposed to start?"

"After the test of his new weapon."

Natasha didn't like the sound of that. "What is this weapon?" she asked.

"I do not know," Hans replied.

"Where is this weapon located?"

"In Castle Doom." Natasha had been afraid of that.

"How and when will this weapon be tested?"

"It will be trained on Symkaria out of revenge for them harboring known Latverian insurgents, and it will be tested…tomorrow."

This was bad news. Natasha knew there was no way she could back to Symkaria in time to warn them. She didn't know what this weapon was, but if it was designed by Doom, then it had to be dangerous. She knew that, knowing Doom, thousands of people could die if no one stopped this weapon. And she knew that there was only one person in the whole country who would be willing to try to stop it…her. She quickly got up and went into the small bathroom attached to her room, carrying her suitcase. She opened the luggage, and unlocked the hidden compartment. She let down her hair, and changed into her traditional Black Widow garb. She put on her 'widow's line' and 'widow's bite' bracelets, and checked to make sure they were working. She only had one thing left she felt she had to do before trying to sneak into Castle Doom.

A bucket full of half-melted ice water was dumped on the face of Major Weil, abruptly shocking him out of his drugged and drunken stupor. He quickly sat up, sputtering and wiping the water out of his eyes. When he could see, he saw the Black Widow standing before him.

He looked briefly surprised, then smiled. "Ah," he said. "I wasn't aware you were into leather. You ARE full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You have no idea." Black Widow said, then balled up her right fist and punched Weil in the face. She felt the satisfying 'pop' of his nose breaking, and blood began to stream out of it. He quickly put his hand to his face, and saw the blood streaming onto it. He stood up and snarled at Black Widow. He swung at her, but she ducked and kicked him on the side of his left knee, breaking it. Weil grabbed it in agony and fell to the ground. Black Widow grabbed him by the collar.

"If you EVER try anything like this again," Black Widow hissed at him, "I shall hunt you down and make tonight seem like a picnic. Do you understand me?" Weil didn't say anything, but the fear in his eyes told Black Widow that he understood. She threw him back down to the floor. "And if you tell anyone, I'll use the footage I've taken this entire night to ruin you." She then reached into his jacket pocket, and after a few moments, pulled out what appeared to be a badge of some sort, and tossed it into duffel bag that was filled with various equipment.

With that, the Black Widow grabbed the bag and left Major Weil in her room to fend for himself.

The Widow approached the castle from the east, as it had seemed to be the least guarded. She pulled out the small badge-like item she had lifted from Weil. It had microcircuitry woven into it as well as a picture of the major. She knew that the castle would be filled with sensors and the like, and that the people entering the building would need some way of deactivating or getting past them. She figured Doom would depend on more of an automated system, than one with checkpoints and passcodes. He was much too arrogant to think that anyone would actually try to break into his home.

After watching to make sure there were no guards or robot security in sight, she reached the eastern base of the castle. She placed one hand on the wall, then another. Tiny static electricity generators in her fingertips and boots enabled her to stick to the masonry, and she quickly scuttled up the wall. She reached a window about 30 feet up and paused there. Putting her back to the wall and letting her feet support her, she dug through her bag and pulled out a small device that looked like a penlight. She pointed it at the window, and a small light at the end of the device glowed green. This meant that there were no alarms hooked up to the window. She glanced inside to make sure there was no one in sight, and broke the window with her elbow. She hated to cause so much noise, but she knew time was of the essence. She quickly scrambled inside. She gathered the glass together, and threw it out the window. She looked around and saw a potted plant just about the right size that she needed. She pulled it to the window and tipped it slightly, having it lean against the broken window. She hoped that anyone coming across it would surmise that the tree had tipped or been knocked over accidentally, breaking the window.

Now the Widow had to find where this weapon was. She opened the nearest door in the hallway, and it opened into a lavish bedroom. Obviously this was a residential wing of the castle, "…And where there are palatial bedrooms in castles," Natasha thought, "there are usually servants."

She slowly searched room by room, searching for someone to question. Finally, as she peered slightly into the open doorway of the fifth room, she saw what appeared to be a manservant of some sort setting out what appeared to be a stack of Oreos and a glass of milk on a small stand next to the regal four-post bed.

Before the servant could see her, Black Widow snuck up behind him, and grabbed him in a headlock. "Don't yell, and I won't snap your neck!" Natasha threatened.

The servant, quite surprised, nodded and stammered out, "W-who are you and what do you want?"

Before the Black Widow could say anything, a booming, somewhat metallic voice resounded from the entryway.

"Yes, Miss Romanov, that is what I would like to know, as well!!"

Doctor Doom stood there, his arms folded across his chest. He did not look pleased.

Next Issue: Things go from bad to worse!!