Everyone stood silent and showed respect as he passed. His very presence commanded attention, even if he hadn't been the monarch of the country. Dressing in his armor, face mask, and cloak, he stood out among the simple folk of Latveria. The simple folk who both feared his wrath and worshiped him as the man who brought prosperity and modern technology to Latveria. Everyone hailed the king as he past through the town with his entourage. Finally, Victor Von Doom, the armored lord of the land went back into his castle.

Inside Castle Doom, the artwork was some of the most valuable in the world and the decorations were of the highest style. Everything was fit for a king. Doom went into his study where his servants brought him an expertly cooked meal along with the finest wine. They dared do no less. Doom didn't like to be displeased, and someone suffered when he was displeased. Boris, Doom's most loyal subject, saw to the details of Doom's needs. He made sure everything was perfect. After the food was served, Boris dismissed his servants, and with a bow to his master, left the room, closing the door behind him. He did this so Doom could take off his mask to eat. No one was ever allowed to look at the face of Victor Von Doom.

Once, years ago, Doom had been very handsome. But ever since the accident, his face was deformed and ruined forever. No surgery could repair it. Now he was forced to hide inside this metal shell.

Doom accidently got a look at his reflection in the silver tray. He brought his metal-gloved fist down and shattered the tray. He leaned back in his chair, thinking back to the days of his youth, when he was handsome. His mind drifted back to even earlier than that. To his childhood. Back to the days when the great Victor Von Doom was no more than one of the simple peasants who now worshiped him.

Latveria was a third world country, ravaged by poverty. Technology had hardly touched it. The fascist regime who ruled the country had no interest in the welfare of the population. Most of the food was eaten by the government and the imperial guard. Life was a nightmare for a poor person. Doom's family was poor! His father, Werner, was a thief. He wasn't a normally dishonest man but he needed to feed his family--his wife and little Victor. So he stole.

The local police superintendent had his men out searching for Werner Von Doom, so the family had to lead a transient existence, staying one step ahead of the law. Werner's wife, Greta, was a practicing witch. She made and sold simple potions to the people she met. Greta was loyal to Werner and young Victor but her heart was weak. The stress of being on the run grew too much for her. She died of a coronary.

Several months later, while Werner was staying with an old friend named Boris, the authorities caught up with him. As they dragged him off, Werner made Boris promise to care for young Victor. Werner was taken to the hangman. Boris told Victor not to go, but Victor snuck away to see. Victor Von Doom was only eight years old when he saw his father executed in public. Victor Von Doom vowed to avenge his parents against the Burgomeister and his regime.

Despite Boris's pleas for Victor to take some time to grieve, Victor immediately started to learn the secrets of his mothers craft. By the time he was 15, he was a talented warlock. Boris could see the hate in Victor and knew that he could potentially become even more of a monster than the Burgomeister. As Victor got older and more powerful, Boris became more afraid of what he would do. And yet, Boris remained loyal to his oath. He would always be there for Victor, no matter what.

The first person Doom got revenge on was the police superintendent. Doom used his magic to enter the superintendent's dreams and torment him night after night. Eventually, the official had a nervous breakdown and killed himself. One by one, Doom killed the entire security force who had arrested his father, as well as the hangman.

Doom was seen in the area of each of the deaths. Rumors started to circulate that he was the one responsible. Government troops hunted him, but Doom had great cunning, as well as magic. Also, the locals hid him. Doom had become a hero to the people for defying their oppressors. Even at a young age, he had a charisma and strength of personality that was rare. The Latverian peasants had faith in his abilities. They were only too glad to give him shelter.

Having taken care of the people directly responsible for killing his family, Doom next set his sights on the corrupt government itself. They starved the population while they rode in limousines. This must end! The government that allowed brutal policemen to kill his father would soon pay for their misdeeds. But Doom knew that his magic wasn't enough. He would need other weapons. Weapons he couldn't get in the impoverished areas of Latveria. He would have to leave his home in order to save it. He promised the poor people of Latveria that he would someday return and overthrow the evil Burgomeister! At age 16, he left his homeland and sought his destiny!

For a year he traveled around Europe, looking for the one thing that would enable him to get his revenge. It didn't take long for him to realize that he had an affinity for technology. Working as an apprentice for a French mechanic showed him how easily he could repair or rebuild anything they put in front of him. Latveria had been such a backwards, low-tech country that Doom hadn't thought of using modern technology as his weapon. But now he knew what he was looking for. He'd stumbled on his destiny.

Working as an apprentice technician in a German laboratory, Doom realized that science was as easy for him to master as tinkering was. Science and technology--the weapons of the intelligent! The weapons of Doom!

It was while working in that lab that Doom's second fortunate discovery was made. Well, not so much as a discovery, but more of a chance meeting. A meeting with a man called Maximilian Moloch. The international gangster named Boss Man had created a breakaway faction of the maggia called the Fist. But the Fist was being run out of business by the mother Maggia organization, who don't like Boss Man's disloyalty. To build up his struggling organization, Boss Man became part owner in this lab and was using it as a drug laboratory.

Doom was 17 when he met Boss Man. Doom was brought to Boss Man's attention in 1982 when Maggia hitmen burst into the lab looking to kill him. Doom hid Boss Man and managed to cleverly convince the agents that they were on the wrong track. Not that Doom cared about Boss Man's safety, but he knew which side his bread was buttered on. After they left, Boss Man thanked Doom. Boss Man took an interest in Doom after that. He was told that Doom was quite intelligent and adaptable. Boss Man had been looking for someone young to groom as his protege. He took Doom under his wing. In no time, Doom became the Boss' counselor, both in science and strategy. Although Doom saw Boss Man as an inferior fellow, he played along. He manipulated Boss Man easily enough. And meanwhile, he was learning science from the professors in the science Lab.

In 1984, the Maggia men finally succeeded in their task and killed Boss Man. Doom, as he had planned, found himself the heir to Boss Man's fortune. Doom, now 19, used the money to put himself through school. Bribery got him into the finest science universities in the world. It was in Empire State University, in New York, that Doom met an aged professor. This professor was an expert in almost every field and had become a legend. His name was Dr. Clark Savage Jr., usually just called Doc Savage. Even though he was now in his mid-80's, he was still in good shape, and seemed much younger. He was as sharp and charismatic and ever. Doom both envied and respected this man. He swore he would surpass Doc Savage one day.

However, their relationship soon took an unfortunate turn. Doom began doing dangerous experiments. Bribery allowed him to get a private lab where he could act unwatched. Doc Savage spoke to the young genius and tried to discourage him. But Doom took great offense at Savage's insinuation that Doom was meddling in things beyond his control. Doom couldn't conceive that anything was beyond his ability. He rationalized that Savage was jealous of his blossoming genius and was afraid of the competition. Doom refused to listen to Savage's advise and continued his bizarre experiments.

One such experiment was an attempt to contact the afterlife. Doom wanted to talk to his parents and tell them that he had partly avenged them and that he soon would overthrow the monstrous Burgomeister in their names. Doom converted a VR simulation machine into a device that would allow the person using it to bypass normal, physical space and view the spirit world. The preparations were almost finished. Doom left the room for a minute. Just then, Doc Savage came in, intending to try to talk to Doom again. He saw the altered VR simulator, and, out of curiosity, looked at the schematics. He shook his head, concerned. When Doom returned, he was furious that Savage had invaded his privacy. Savage tried to point out that some of Doom's equations were off by a few decimal points. This made Doom furious! How dare this old fool, this relic suggest that Doom was incompetent. Doom had complete faith in his calculations. He put the helmet on and activated the machine.

An explosion occurred. Doc Savage had been correct. Doom calculations were slightly off, and that was enough to cause a disaster. The machine blew up. Doom was spared any major injures, except to his face. His once handsome face as now hopelessly disfigured. As Doom lay in the hospital recovering, he blamed the explosion on Doc Savage. He was certain that Savage had sabotaged the machine while Doom was out of the room. Doom felt that Savage had always been jealous of him, afraid that he would one day outshine Savage's genius. That day, he added Doc Savage to the list of people he would get revenge against.

Before he could return to school, Doom got a letter saying that he was expelled. Doom was irate! Those fools! They should be honored to have him! Well, if they didn't want him, it was their loss. They had nothing else to teach him anyway. He had passed beyond them. Besides, he refused to walk among common people with his face so badly deformed. He would not have them staring at him in disgust, or worse, in pity. From now on, where Doom walked, he walked alone!

Doom visited some of the greatest plastic surgeons in the world. But they all said the same thing--His face was beyond repair. Furious, Doom hoped that sorcery could succeed where medicine had failed. He traveled into the vast, snowy reaches of the highest Himalayan mountains, seeking the legendary mystic called the ancient one, the Sorcerer Supreme.

He never found the Ancient One. He collapsed after days of traveling over the freezing cold mountains. Luckily for Doom, he was found by a group of monks who had a temple nearby. They brought him to their home and nursed him back to health. Doom asked about the Ancient One but they played dumb. Doom was frustrated.

The monks wanted to do something to make him feel better. They noticed how he always tried to cover his face. He was ashamed of his deformity. That gave the monks an idea. These monks were blacksmiths and took pride in their art. They designed a mask for Doom. Doom wasn't sure how to take this act of kindness at first, but then an idea hit him. When he returned to Latveria, he would be like a knight, riding in to slay the evil dragons. He asked the monks to make him a suit of armor. They did so.

Donning his mask and armor, and adding a cloak and hood, Doom felt that his appearance was now imposing enough to leave this hiding place and resume his mission. He snuck out one night and returned to the outside world.

After reaching a city, Doom broke into an auto factory. It was closed for the weekend and it had plenty of tools and parts for Doom to use. Over the next forty-eight hours, he built some weapons into his armor. Among the improvements was a laser blaster in the gauntlets and a jet pack, among other things. Using some automotive petroleum to power his jet pack , he rocketed away on Monday morning, just before the factory opened up.

Years earlier, Doom had made the acquaintance of some international weapons dealers while he was working for Boss Man. He sought them out now. He was now calling himself Dr. Doom, even though he never received an official doctorate. He promised the weapons dealers that he could make them rich by producing new weapons for them to sell. He showed them some of his designs. They loved his ideas and agreed to give him financing, tools, and a place to work. Doom created a cache of powerful, high-tech weapons, including robots and disintegrator rays. The weapons dealers salivated with glee at the thought of the money they'd get by selling these weapons to some south American rebels. They never got the chance. Doom used the weapons against them and wiped the whole group out. Now the weapons were his to do with as he pleased. And he knew exactly what he wanted to do! It was time to return to Latveria!

Dr. Doom snuck back into Latveria unnoticed by the authorities, but he made his presence known to the poor population. The ever-loyal Boris was there to greet him. Soon word spread all across the land...Doom was back, and he was promising them their freedom! With his charismatic ability to speak, he managed to convince a large group of the oppressed Latverians to act as his army. They had faith in Doom. In the summer of 1996, the revolution began.

Dr. Doom led them first against the local police. The officers were no match for the powerfully armed revolutionaries. Soon troops were sent in. But Doom's strategic genius, combined with his advanced weapons of destruction and the fury of the rebel army, was an unstoppable force. They plowed through the Burgomeister's military. The revolution was over in a day. The fascist forces alternately fled, surrendered or were killed. Soon, the Burgomeister was alone, except for his elite castle guard and some advisors.

Doom rocketed into the castle. With his laser gauntlets and armored strength, he easily overcame the elite guard, and the Burgomeisters advisory council. All that was left was the Burgomeister. He found the Burgomeister hiding under the table in his war room with a pistol. He shot at Doom, but the bullet couldn't pierce the thick armor. Doom grabbed the Burgomeister by the throat.

"You've eaten well, Burgomeister," Doom said, "You've eaten the prosperity of your people. You've devoured their hope and spirit. But your biggest mistake came twenty-three years ago when you killed my parents. Today, all your sins will be punished!"

It took the Burgomeister almost a week to die. He died painfully. His head sat for weeks on a spike outside the castle . . . Which was now called Castle Doom! The populace gathered outside the castle cheering. They praised their new king and vowed to support him. He, in turn, planned big things for the impoverished country.

Dr. Doom was as good as his word. Over the next four years, Doom turned his country around. He brought technology and modern medicine to his people. He began to sell some of his technology to neighboring countries to bolster the economy. Doom redistributed the wealth and instituted a new financial system. He created new jobs. Latveria was experiencing the fastest economic growth of any country in the world. Also, Doom created a chemical which caused crops to grow faster and larger. Food was becoming plentiful. Dr. Doom had saved the country and his people loved him for it.

But they feared him too. Doom had learned some hard lessons in life. He believed in being cruel to be kind. He believed that sparing the rod spoiled the child. Doom would do anything--no matter how extreme or brutal--it maintain the integrity of his new kingdom. And if he had to punish one of his subjects for the good of the greater population than he would do so without hesitation. As a means of keeping crime under control, Doom could deal very harshly with criminals. His wrath became legendary and everyone in Latveria knew the horror that would await them if they dared to break the law of Doom! Because of this, Latveria has the lowest crime rate in the world.

Under the rule of Dr. Doom, Latveria was no longer a third world country. Everyone was taken care of. As long as they obeyed Doom without question.

And what he did for Latveria, he could do for the whole world, couldn't he? Yes, of course he could! The governments of the world had shown themselves to be woefully inadequate to the task of running this planet. They're so busy warring with each other and being corrupt that they can't deal with the real problems of the Earth.

What the world needs is one leader--One special man who could run the whole show in an intelligent and organized way. One man should be running the Earth. And obviously, that man is Doom! Who else has the intelligence, the will, the technology and the leadership skills necessary? No one else! Only Doom!

Right there and then, he decided. He would rule the world! It was the nearing the beginning of a new millennium, and that millennium should be--and would be--the age of Doom!

Of course, he knew the governments of the world wouldn't just give him the control he felt he so rightfully deserved. If he wanted the world he'd have to take it. He'd have to conquer it! It would be bloody and violent and many would end up dead, but he believed the ends justified the means. In the long run, he rationalized, the world would be better off under the rule of a superior man like himself. War and death were just a necessary stepping stone to the harmony and will one day come under his reign. He was convinced that he was completely justified in anything he did to gain rulership over the Earth.

"Boris!" Doom shouted.

The aging, and unflinchingly loyal Boris came in. "Your Lordship?"

"Prepare the media chamber for me, faithful one," Doom ordered. "I need to make a better study of the world situation. Knowledge is power!"

Boris bowed and set off to do as Doom had commanded. He didn't know what Doom was up to, but he knew that it did not bode well for the rest of the world. Inside, he felt sad...and afraid. But that wouldn't stop him from obeying. He would always be there for Doom.

As time went on, something began to nag at him. There was one small doubt . . . One possible obstacle!

The Super-Heroes!

These beings had powers that defied reason! They were many and their number seemed to be growing. And those goody-good boy scouts had a habit of saving the world. Aliens and other threats have tried to conquer the world, but the heroes have always had the power to stop them. As far back as the Justice Society and as recently as the Avengers League, super-heroes have set themselves up as protectors.

Obviously, the super beings would interfere in Doom's rightful conquest. Clearly, he'd have to deal with the protectors of the planet. But how to do it? They had incredible power and would not be easy to defeat. A foolproof strategy for eliminating them would have to be devised.

He thought long and hard. How do you defeat a super army...An Army?! The word hit him like a lightning strike. He needed his own super army. There were just as many super-villains as there were heroes. And they had equal power. Their problem was their approach. From his observations, they always had some foolish flaw in their schemes. But that wouldn't happen under Doom's leadership. With his supreme mind guiding a powerful army of super beings, no one--not the Avengers League or Captain America or anyone else--could possibly stop them!

Doom began to monitor the news about the activities of the villains of this world. He spent weeks forming dossiers on them. Because it wasn't enough to have super-powered villains. He needed good super-powered villains. His army had to be composed of the best of the worst. He needed the smartest, toughest and most ruthless, yet ones who he could deal with on a rational basis and control in some way. He would have to consider his recruits very carefully.

And once he narrowed down the possibilities, he needed to make doubly sure. He'd have to test them. He'd have to see for himself how they handled themselves.

He prepared his list and started plotting his tests. The next few weeks, he'd put the world's greatest villains through their paces. And if they passed, they'd get to help him conquer the world!

"You know the rules, Frankie," said the team's current teleporter, Quartzite, to Commando, a.k.a. Frank Bohannon. "Just hit the locator button when you are ready to get out, and I will come arunnin'. Good luck, I would stay, but I can feel my lips chapping already. Have fun."

After Frank watched Quartzite teleport away, he turned around to survey the wonderful ‘team' Sarge Steel had stuck him with this time. He didn't like it one single bit. In all his years he had spent leading Suicide Squad missions, he had been forced to work with a variety of crazies and criminals. This group was a different breed altogether. This group was very stealth-heavy, meaning that there were no bulky muscle men or high-tech, huge gun totting mercenaries. Frank was saddened by this fact, because he had been a soldier all his life, and he knew how to deal easily with those types. That type respect two things, money and power. This lot, with the exception of constant companion Pathfinder, was a completely different breed.

To keep better tabs on them, Frank made a quick mental catalogue of his new ‘colleagues', all recent additions. First, there was Kuroko. Known as the Black One, Kuroko was a former pacific coast crime lord who ran afoul of some super-vigilante named Shroud in Los Angeles and got herself thrown in jail. She seemed to have formidable martial arts abilities, and swung a mean katana. She also had a mutant ability to make herself invisible to normal human sight, although Frank noticed that her abilities don't work against his infra-red cyber goggles. That was good, because it would make her escape from Squad almost impossible, even without the explosive device strapped around her upper left arm. She also seemed to be the most sane of the four new recruits, and had been very cooperative with him on the last mission to Cuba. Frank wasn't really worried about her.

Next was the female Whiteout. Her history was completely shrouded in mystery, as was her identity. Doctors at Belle Reve have yet to get her to remove the all white outfit which covers her entire body, save for the face, which is cloaked in shadows from a deep cowl. She was apprehended by Blue Beetle and Ant Man just days before the tragic plane crash which took both their lives*, trying to free all the animals from the Miami Animal Reserve. When the doctors at Reve ask her why, she simply said, "To feel like home." She also has a mutant ability. She can generate a pulse of psionic energy which can render a target unconscious, the victim seeing a bright, white light before the pain hits. Frank assumed this was where the name Whiteout originated from. She didn't worry Frank too much, because both he and Pathfinder had been outfitted with headsets that would prevent Whiteout from using her powers upon them.

*(Batman #2)

Next to her was Janus. A brilliant painter, Janus was diagnosed with multiple personality disorder and psychotic tendencies. He ‘celebrated' by killing his therapist, his secretary, and nearly everybody on the seventeen floor of St. Joseph's Hospital in Chicago. He was apprehended by Black Lightning, and was placed in an asylum. Unfortunately, Hydra agents within the facility performed experiments on him, and he was granted the ability to create a duplicate of his body. Not long after he escaped, and was defeated again by Black Lightning. He was then placed into Belle Reve custody. He is a certifiable crazy, prone to switch from mild-mannered to manic at the drop of a hat. Frank looked at him in disgust, he hated the crazy ones, they were far too unpredictable, and he was thankful that Janus wore an explosive collar around his neck.

Finally, Frank turned to the man he had almost begged to be left off the mission. The one villain Frank had prayed he would never have to be stuck out in the field with. He was Jonathan Crane, known to world as the Scarecrow. He was Hannibal Lector from Silence of the Lambs come to life in chilling, grisly horror.

Jonathan Crane had it all. He was wealthy, brilliant, and considered one of the foremost psychotherapists in the world. But behind it all, there was a secret life. One filled with obsession and fear. He wanted to master it, and to do so, he sold his soul to some devil named Neron in order to gain the ability to psychically see what others fear and use it against them. Not long after, the disappearances at his University began. Bodies started showing up in a variety of gruesome fashions. It took the combined efforts of S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents Oliver Queen and Kate Neville nearly a month to decipher Crane's identity. When they did discover it, Agent Kate Neville paid for it with her life.

In Reve, there is nobody generates the kind of talk like Crane. He is brilliant, quiet, and very unnerving. The other inmates use him as their one bogeyman, telling ‘newbies' horrific stories of his exploits.

"What is the plan Commando?" asked Pathfinder, as he nudged Frank away from his thoughts. The team was starting to look a little ancy for the most part. Frank could see it Nick Rodriguez, a.k.a. Pathfinder's eyes. He also noticed Janus had started to tap his hands and feet hyperactively.

"Okay, listen up," said Commando in a very serious, soldier-like tone. "We are about a half-mile outside the town of Al'Shahad, on the Quaracian border. Our sources have informed us that members of Jihad have been stationed in the city for almost a week now, and may be planning to launch a biological attack upon a nearby UN peacekeeping outpost. Our job here is to quietly sneak up on them, find out what they are attempting, and stop them if necessary. Now, you all know the rules. Stray too far away, and I blow you up. Make a move against myself or Pathfinder, and I blow you up. Screw up this mission, and I will blow you up. Got it? Good. Let's head out."

Whiteout grabbed the arm of her assailant and flung her from her, she assumed several feet away.

"Now scum," said Veil in slow, drawn English, "my mist will suck smother the air from your lungs."

Veil watched as Whiteout gagged and fell flat upon the ground. Waiting several seconds, Veil let the mists dissipate, and tightened the grip upon her blade as she walked towards her, intent of slicing her throat from ear to ear.

The last thing Veil saw was the cowl of Whiteout quickly turn to face her, then a blinding white flash of light, then everything went dark.

Beneath her cowl, Whiteout managed a faint smirk. Commando had been right at their briefings back at Belle Reve. Jihad members were very arrogant. Veil had assumed that Whiteout was a breathing, normal human underneath all the white her clothing. Her mistake.

Whiteout began to whistle as she harshly kicked Veil in the ribs, then made her way to rendezvous with the rest of the team.

Janus tried to walk quietly up to Jaculi, who was standing by a southern wall of a small building drinking water. He soon discovered that his attempt was in vain, because he had already been noticed. Janus quickly dodged behind the building a gust of wind whooshed by, and suddenly he felt a javelin impale the wall beside him. Turning he watched as the female Jaculi stood in front of him, evidently evaluating him.

"Are you ready to die, infidel?" asked Jaculi, in almost flawless English. Janus noticed from the tinge in her voice that she had obviously gone to an English University, probably Oxford or Cambridge.

"Not today, lady!" Janus announced as his duplicate sprang from his body and leaped at the Jihad soldier. Had it been anybody else, the assault might have worked, but Jaculi's power allowed her to have short bursts of fantastic speed. Before the duplicate reached her body, she sidestepped and pulled a javelin from her pack. The duplicate, as it moved through the air, was impaled upon the javelin, the weapon going clean through.

As Janus watched the display, horror filled his head, and he quickly fell to the ground, on his knees. This had never happened. He watched the blood spurt from his ‘other self', then fall to the ground lifeless. How could this happen. That duplicate wasn't some different entity, but part of his own personality. Now, it was dead. Part of him was dead.

Jaculi watched with disgust as her opponent's lookalike slumped against the wall behind him, sobbing like a small child. Her first thought was to put him out of his misery, but then she felt he was unworthy of her attention, and no longer a threat, and she quickly made her way back to the main building, to warn Rustam of an infidel attack.

Rotwrap had been a devout follower of Hydra, who had volunteered for magical experiments as they looked for ways to enhance their army. She had been transformed into a living mummy, and underneath her enchanted bandages lie scorpions, venomous spiders, and other horrid insects. Crane had been impressed, and he was sure she was a fabulous inspirer of fear. That is why Crane had decided to let her live, but first he wanted to see what made her tick.

"I know you are there interloper," said Rotwrap in Arabic, without turning to face him. The voice was a horrid, high-pitched whine, which sounded akin to nails on a chalkboard.

"And what, my little bug beauty?" inquired Crane nonchalantly as stood against the wall, looking as though he hadn't a care in the world. His own perfect Arabic seemed to take the ‘woman' by surprise, as did his laid back behavior.

"And," said Rotwrap as she turned to face him, "now you must die!"

"Not today, hon," said the Scarecrow as he watched Rotwrap turn and begin to move toward him. "Oh, and you might want to take a good look at your arm first?"

Momentarily confused by Scarecrow's comment, Rotwrap looked down at her bandaged arm. Curious, she decided to unravel a piece, and allow a few creatures to roam free, hopefully alarming her opponent in the process. Instead she was the one alarmed. No bugs crawled from beneath the wrap as she unraveled. Instead there was just perfect olive colored human flesh.

"No!" screamed Rotwrap as she began to unravel more of the arm bandages, only to find more human flesh.

"What have you done to me?" screamed Rotwrap. "What is happening? I am ancient evil incarnate? I am powerful? Not this frail human! NO! NO! NO!"

Crane watched in fascination as Rotwrap began to rip the bandages from all over her body. To his view, he watched as thousands of creepy-crawlies poured from the body, all over the desert floor. He watched them scurry around, obviously looking for instruction from their "master". They found none, because she was lost in a vision of her own greatest fear. It was consuming her, blanking out her very existence.

Crane watched in fascination as the confused creatures began to turn on themselves, and then their host. She didn't even notice as the mass of creatures began to sting and bite and eat one another, as their host screamed in oblivious anger and horror.

Beneath his mask, Scarecrow gave himself a glowing smile of satisfaction as he watched the pile of bugs and bandages dissipate upon the ground. Bored now, he decided to turn his attention onto the other opponents, hoping that somewhere he could find himself someone he could kill a little more up close and personal.

Commando fired a few rounds of bullets at the beast, but none pierced its thick hide. As he searched for a vulnerability, he switched to armor-piercing bullets, but before he could attempt to shoot, the creature was upon him. It was a fierce monster, with large fangs and sharp claws, and a very feral sense of intelligence. It was little more than a beast. The creature was also fast, and it quickly chomped down on one of Commando's robotic arms, smashing circuits and sending small pieces of metal flying.

Then Commando decided on a course of action, As he dodged a swat of one of the creature's deadly claws, he aimed his free arm, with gun in hand, at the creature's eyes. With a sickening, splattering sound, the bullets pierced the creature's eyes, and through the now empty socket, the brain. Commando crashed to the ground as the dead creature fell atop him.

Now, Rustam watched as the infidel charging towards him, armed with a sword, disappeared from his sight entirely. Suspecting invisibility, he had seen enough, and knew he was outmatched in this encounter. He quickly whispered something as he created a giant ball of fire, and flung it towards the direction of his attackers. Commando and Pathfinder quickly leaped out the front door, as the entire building was engulfed in flames.

It didn't take them long to discover the both the dead and living bodies of Janus. Both were still right where Jaculi had left them. Pathfinder grabbed the living one and pulled him up, and helped the sobbing, broken man to his feet.

Minutes later, Scarecrow came walking casually up to the group, his outfit splattered with blood.

"Take care of your target?" asked Commando, suspicious of Crane's abundance of red covering him.

"I did indeed," said Crane, as he began to whistle Elvis's ‘Jailhouse Rock'. "Found Veil and Whiteout also. Whiteout was already dead, and I took care of that nasty Veil as well. Not much spirit in these Jihad, and I thought that Holy War types were suppose to be fanatics or something."

Commando eyed Scarecrow suspiciously, then turned from him in disgust. 'Well,' he though to himself, 'another wonderful mission. Two and a half Squaders dead, another half demoralized, and the insane sociopathic killer returns without a scratch. At least the mission was accomplished,' considered Commando, as he watched the fire from the building spread to everything surrounding. Then he called Quartzite for pick-up, ready to get the hell out of there.

President Marlo smiled as he noticed the sarcasm that dripped from the voice of Dr. Doom. The two had watched, thanks to cameras strategically placed throughout the test sight, the entire battle between Suicide Squad and his Jihad.

"You think not?" said Marlo, his arrogance unmistakable, "I believe it went just fine. Granted we will have to make modifications to the Manticore model next time, and remove that whole eye vulnerability. Also we will need to do some tinkering on Veil, but Jaculi worked wonderfully, and this woman we apprehended may well prove of great use. Invisibility makes for wonderful assassins. I'll just talk to the Hand about making the adjustments and get them into training, and they should be ready in no time. Interested?"

"I'll consider your offer, Marlo. It shall be most helpful to my destiny," said Doom as he regally escorted himself out of the viewing chamber.

An explosion rocked S.T.A.R Labs Italian Branch, a cradle of worldwide technology hidden in secrecy for years. Until tonight, no normal human knew of its existence.

Until tonight.

"Yeah, baby, sky's the limit," she muttered, piloting the Army Chopper five hundred feet. in the air. She wore her headband tight, a suit made of full kevlar, and a face that could prove the point; looks can kill. And she can kill in a million methods. After all, she is now the head of Hydra, criminal agency.

Trajectory to the left. Mountain range 10 ft. away. She placed the controls to automatic pilot, shifted the gears.

5 ft. 10 seconds

She suited herself with a mask, to cover her skin from the freezing atmosphere. And her face.

2 ft. 4 seconds

Readied, she took to the side of the chopper, hanging near the edge.

A foot away. .25 miniseconds.

"Sky's the limit."

She took to the air, graceful in form, like a bird in the sky, as the copter crashed into the mountain range. The explosion could have been heard for miles around. Like she intended it to be. It would distract the guards, giving her a short duration of time to infiltrate the facility.

She also knew she was in a graceful freefall. If not her last.

The roasting fire illuminated the castle walls, giving face to the impenetrable fortress of Victor Von Doom. But of course, he has been called out by different names. Some refer to him as a hero. Some refer to him as a madman. But, to himself and to others, he preferred if he were to be called by his infamous title.

"So you are the one who sent that messenger?" she asked him, dropping off the dead body of a Latverian page, sent to America to call for . . . assistance. Doom smiled grimly, but it was covered in a facade of cold steel, a mask of no emotions. He sat on his throne, green cloak dangling in one arm, a grail filled with champagne in the other, and he tasted his drink. Relinquishing his victory. "Miss Cheshire, Lordess of the Hydra, I presume?" he declared wryly. Cheshire took a step closer, grabbing her Magnum by her waist belt. "I would not do that if I were you."

She fired at the armored despot.

Casually, he took it in his hand, and showed the bullet, still hot, in his palm. "An assassin of your stature does not need to prove herself in the presence of Doom." He snapped his fingers, and summoned his robotic creations. Cheshire was outnumbered.

"Doombots, aim to kill."

Beams began to fire across the room. Only Doom himself was shielded from the assault, while Cheshire moved in a catlike grace that disappeared time past ago. At point-blank range, she took out a Doombot straight in the face, before it could fire at her.

"Impressive," the despot muttered under his metallic mask.

The Doombots adapted to her quickly, but not as quickly to themselves. Cheshire ripped off the arm of the fallen Doombot, and began to tinker with its configuration. She dodged the cyborgs, long enough to use the arm to fire at them. They fell like tin toys, scattered across the floor.

Doom stood from his throne, and began to applaud the performance. Cheshire could only stare angrily.

" . . . That was just to test me?" she asked under her breath, while Doom stepped down, and stood before her.

"Your skills are well needed, Cheshire. You have surely proven to me that you have indeed assumed the worthy mantle of Hydra. However, you must discard that title for the time being, for now you must go undercover. I assure you, that I will need your assistance to acquire a certain item."

"I'd stay put if I were you,"

A desert eagle was fixed behind Cheshire's back. The woman with green hair aimed with it with professional experience -- someone like her.

Cheshire somersaulted in the air, miniseconds before the bullets flew past where she was. She made a flying kick at her gunner, who instantly dodged her move. Cheshire knew she was facing an opponent of great assassination skills.

"Smooth," she complimented, turning to her attacker. "I'd say I had met my equal."

The green haired woman in the leather suit smiled, but had the desert eagle pointed at her.

"Sorry, not anymore."

The shot was called, and Cheshire backed off, and fell off the rooftop. The woman could only smile wryly, and check on her opponent. "So, there is no challenge to this task after all," she muttered, before Cheshire flung her to the wall. "Sorry, lady. I'm not dying today." She kicked the woman back, and she crouched in pain. Both Colt .45 and her Magnum pointed straight in the face, Cheshire had enough with the mysterious attacker.

"Tell me who you are, or I swear, you won't need make-up when I'm through with that face."

The green haired woman did not budge to escape. Instead, she instantly took her gun, and aimed it at Cheshire.

"Magnum. Your gun is a Magnum."

"What?"

"Your gun is a Magnum. Mine is a Desert Eagle. Both guns are strikingly similar, but contrast in many ways as well."

"I don't care about philosophy, lady. What are you getting at?"

"I am impressed. Doom said that I would have a worthy battle, but I did not expect--"*

*(Viper doesn't know about Cheshire's leadership in Hydra)

"Doom?" Cheshire exclaimed. The woman with green hair stood up, as both faced-off at each other, guns in point-blank range. "I am Viper," said the woman, and Cheshire did not even bother about it. She knew it from the start that Doom planned this. She did not expect this woman though.