DC: I am Dr Doom

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*****

Like…

Mastering every single instrument.

A brief usage of my power on random objects filled the living room up with a grand piano, a violin, a guitar, a set of drums, a flute, a trumpet, a trombone, and a triangle.

Yes… this would do. It would do for now.

***

One Year and Three Months After Eva's Death

Going a full year without sleep might not have been the wisest decision. Even though everything felt perfect at first, the grip of Morpheus began to grow stronger, creeping into every moment.

Eventually, it became unbearable. One day, sleep overtook me, dragging me down into its depths. What followed shook me to my very core, something I could never have anticipated.

***

{She rolled her eyes, before sighing, and turning back to me.

"Ugh. My deadbeat parents. I can just hop up there and kill them if you want." She said with a smile, "It wouldn't take long – well, unless I really wanted to drag it out – oh! Oh! How bout I rape my mom while I'm at it? You can watch – she's a MILF, and would be right down your alley –"

It was a strange feeling, disgust. "No! No – don't do that."

She tilted her head. "No? Are you sure? Oh – that's right, you wouldn't get any pleasure out of it – your body being undeveloped and all. Ah – but I can still kill them right? Should I make it messy? They'd probably be useful for a blood ritual don't you think?"

Something had clearly gone wrong. There was no way this was anything close to what I was like. Even without my Mind blocks. I wasn't insane.

I wasn't.

I wasn't.

"Oh? What's wrong? Come on master! Let's kill them! They don't matter after all! I mean, does anything here even matter?" she said in a sing-song voice, "Let's become gods! Enslave the universe! Turn Darkseid into your butler or go back in time and screw the Virgin Mary! I mean, with how fucked up this world is, it wouldn't be a surprise to discover that Jesus was some time traveler or extradimensional alien! Oh! Maybe both!"

I teetered back.

"Speaking of mothers and fucking, you're not still planning on doing that silly little mission helping that selfish bitch?"

I froze.

"What did you call her?"

She grinned, hopping on her bed and crossing her legs. "You know it, deep down, you've always known it. Eva – she doesn't care about you. Not really. She leaves you day after day to go slurp down dirty dicks and get wet from giving people boners. She drinks herself to stupor and comes back wasted, and you're there, cooking her meals, washing her semen stained undies, and giving her ego the reassurance that she's a good person, like a good, well-trained, pet."

"Shut up." I whispered, my voice almost inaudible to my own ears.

She laughed once more. "Come on! You're smarter than this! When was the last time she asked you how you were doing? When was the last time she even bothered asking you to tell her about your day? Hell, does she even care about what you do in all the excess free time you have while she's out there experiencing the dicks, even when you brought so much money home?"

"Shut. Up."

"It's not that she doesn't believe your bullshit truth excuses, and more that she doesn't want to. As long as you're there, re-assuring her that she isn't complete garbage, and as long as you're smart enough to make your way to the kitchen and whip up your own meals, she wouldn't even care if you told her that you were raping kittens for fun. Oh, no – she wouldn't, because she doesn't want her well-behaved pet to be anything but that."

"Shut. Up."

"You think getting a million dollars would suddenly make her become a better person? Really? You think she'd actually stop stripping and fucking and try to 'make something' out of her life? The same woman who left you starving in a crib for hours while some guy fucked her on the couch? The same person who often forgot to change your diapers because she was wasted as fuck? Hell – if not for those nifty powers, you'd be dead. Imagine that – picture it and let it sink in – you would be dead if you weren't born with it powers of god. This woman, who doesn't give a shit about you, who all but orchestrated your attempted murder, is the one person in the world you're living for? The one person you would do anything to please?"

A heavy scoff.

"And I'm the brainwashed one."

"SHUT THE FUCKING HELL UP!"

I didn't know when I lunged from my position. I didn't know when my feet had flown into the air, as I tackled the form of the girl that looked so similar to me to the ground, my fists slamming into her face in anger. Again, and again and again –

She laughed.

All she did, through it all, was laugh.

I didn't know how long it had been. All I could remember was the sound of taunting laughter coming from a girl's voice. The laughter was colder than anything I had felt before. Like serpents of ice had coiled into a vice grip around my chest. It was in contrast to the burning gorilla hands which I felt squeezing against my throat and preventing me from swallowing.}

"Huff huff huff"

A scared gasp filled the bedroom in the middle of the night. I suddenly woke up and immediately sat up, looking around to find myself on the Grand Piano that could play itself. My breathing was shaky as I tried to calm myself down. Never once in my life had I thought I would had a nightmare, fuck I even had any dream since I born in this world let alone wake up suddenly from one.

But that nightmare had seemed too real for me. It felt like I was actually there, experiencing what happened within it. "Rrr!" A voice called out below me, and I turned to see my pet undead rat that was now even bigger than my adult form.

I was momentarily confused before memories flooded into my mind, reminding me of what happened before I somehow fell asleep. With a gasp,

"Rrrr?" The voice heard again, this time with a louder tone.

As the memories resurfaced, I snapped out of my thoughts and looked at it –

***

The nightmare was so vivid, so unnervingly real, that it felt as though the darkest recesses of my mind had unleashed their demons upon me. What made it even more chilling was the girl's face—it was eerily identical to mine, as if conjured from the fragmented corners of my imagination. Since that fateful night, her haunting visage has consumed my thoughts, leaving me tangled in endless contemplation of the nightmare's meaning and the shadows it left behind.

***

One Year and Nine Months After Eva's Death

Congratulations! It's my Birthday Again!

I have aged up!

I am now 4 years old!

Easy. So easy. Why had it all been so easy?

People out there in the world devoted years of their lives to total mastery of their selected instruments, and as a grinder, with just six months of constant practice, of playing, without rest, without sleep, without food, without pause

Piano Mastery

Guitar Mastery

Violin Mastery

Percussion Instrument Mastery

Flute Mastery

Trumpet Mastery

I grit my teeth and tossed my hands into the air.

I didn't want any more useless things and achievements! I didn't need them! I didn't! I just wanted – I wanted –

I stopped.

What do I want?

I… didn't know.

For the longest time, all I had wanted, was to create a life for myself and Eva. I wanted to make her a better person. I wanted to watch her achieve her dreams. I wanted to see her become something great –

Something beautiful.

She was my everything.

I… loved her.

But – she was dead. Gone. There was no bringing her back. This meant, that my want, my greatest desire, it couldn't come to fruition anymore. It couldn't happen. I had to set a new goal, a new reason to continue, a new reason to wake up every morning. A desire. A want.

No matter how crazy, no matter how twisted, no matter how morally repulsive or ignoble. I needed something – anything.

So… what do I want to do the most?

What beautiful, sick, deranged and twisted fantasy could I indulge myself in for the rest of my life?

My mother had died as a result of my own machinations, I knew. However, I also knew, that the circumstances of the horrible life she had lived had been brought about by the actions of Carmine Falcone, and the failure of the so-called 'Heros, the justice system, the Law' to stop him. I knew, that if Carmine Falcone had not existed, the story would be far, far different.

The police was either corrupt or inept, and Batman would never be able to stain his hands to remove a stain from this earth, in the ridiculously bullshit name of moral purity.

Neither would Superman.

Nor Wonder Woman. Nor Green Lantern, The Flash, Green Arrow, Martian Manhunter –

And so – I realized what my purpose was.

Break or eliminate every superhero.

Murder or enslave every supervillain.

End or conquer the world of Masks and Capes.

It was grand. It was over the top. It would almost certainly get me killed or imprisoned.

But it was something I wanted to do.

I wanted to be the man who ended the Dark Knight.

The person who bent the Man of Steel.

The one who dominated an Amazon.

This was my story. This was my goal. This was the world in which I had found myself, and I would not – could not – sit back and watch this farce any longer. No. I had the power to change things. To change the world.

To rule it.

In a world where gods walked the earth as mortal men, and I would become a legend.

And I would do it –

For myself.

With that resolve burning in my mind, I approached my bed—a masterpiece of my own design, unparalleled in its perfection. This wasn't just a resting place; even the most restless human would succumb to the embrace of sleep merely by laying on it.

I pulled the blanket over my body, its texture a seamless blend of comfort and luxury. For the first time since Eva's death, I allowed myself the vulnerability of slumber. As my eyes closed, I knew this was not the end, but a transformation. Tomorrow, a new version of me would awaken—a being ready to reshape the world.

***

My vacant eyes stared straight ahead, a woman appeared next to me, placing her hand over mine to stop me. She then turned to me and smiled gently.

'The most beautiful and perfect woman in existence' was the only thing that came to mind when I looked at her. She had very pale skin, dark eyes like a starry sky, lips that resembled a black rose, jet black hair that looked like the most beautiful night sky, and she had an Eye of Horus tattoo under her right eye and wore a silver ankh necklace.

Looking at her only one thing came to my mind.

'Death of the Endless,' I thought, captivated by her presence, standing there like Lego Batman while 'I just died in your arms' played in my mind.

I couldn't tell if what I was seeing since opening my eyes was real or just some twisted fabrication of my own fractured mind. Everything felt too vivid, too surreal, like the kind of dream that toys with you just enough to blur the edges of reality.

But if this was a dream, I told myself it was fine. Dreams weren't her concept. So… did that mean I was dying?

How?!?

My thoughts spiraled, but then my eyes caught movement—another figure standing silently in the distance. I glanced over, and my breath hitched. There he was: Dream of the Endless.

Morpheus.

He stood as if carved from shadow and light, pale and gaunt with an aura that bent the air around him. His wild black hair framed a face both regal and unsettling, and his eyes—those terrible, beautiful voids—sparkled like the cosmos itself. Dark robes draped over his ethereal form, the Dream Ruby gleaming faintly at his chest. On his head rested a helm sculpted from the bones of an ancient god.

The very fabric of the Dreaming seemed to shift around him, his presence gothic and unyielding, radiating an authority that transcended time, space, and mortality. The air felt heavy, charged with the weight of cosmic truth.

So with his presence I was sure I was in Dreaming, Dream embodies the mystique and vastness of the Dreaming, radiating cosmic authority. Just as I was lost in thought I heard her again.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her words wrapping around me like a comforting blanket.

Her hand gently cupped my cheek, and the softness of her touch was enough to make the cracks in my composure split wide open.

'She's so warm,' I thought, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or just a cruel figment of my imagination.

Before I could answer, her voice cut through my thoughts again, a playful glint in her eyes. "Look what I brought just for you."

But the words didn't matter. The moment I saw her—saw her—I couldn't stop myself. I rushed forward and hugged her tightly, burying my face in her shoulder.

She didn't hesitate. She hugged me back with all the love and care I thought I'd lost forever.

"My little Vic," she said softly, her voice trembling as if holding back tears. Her hands gently cupped my face, and for a moment, she just gazed at me, her eyes filled with a tenderness I hadn't felt in so long. "How are you doing, my love? Are you eating well? Taking care of yourself?"

I could only nod, my throat tightening as I tried to find the words to respond. She smiled faintly, brushing a strand of hair from my face like she always used to.

"You've grown," she whispered, her voice tinged with both pride and sadness. "You've been through so much, haven't you? I wish I could have been there for you… to hold your hand through it all."

"Mom…" I managed to croak, my voice cracking under the weight of emotions I didn't know how to carry.

She shook her head gently, her thumb brushing against my cheek. "Shh, it's okay, Vic. You don't have to say anything. I just needed to see you, to know that you're okay. You are okay, aren't you?"

I wanted to tell her I wasn't. That I was broken, lost, and hollow without her. But her warmth, her presence, made it feel like, just for this fleeting moment, I could lie.

"Yes," I whispered.

She smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. "Good. That's good." Her voice wavered, and her hands briefly tightened on my shoulders, as if trying to ground herself.

And then, after a long silence, she sighed. Her gaze softened, but her smile faded. "Vic, I need you to do something for me."

The weight in her voice made my heart drop. I looked at her, confused and desperate, as she hesitated, struggling to find the words.

I looked up at her, confused and desperate, searching her eyes for meaning. "Y… Yes, Mom?"

She pulled back just enough to meet my gaze, her hands resting on my shoulders as if anchoring me to the moment. Her smile was bittersweet, filled with both love and sorrow.

"I need you to let me go. You have to let me let you go." Her words shattered something inside me.

"No," I whispered, shaking my head, clinging to her like a lifeline.

She pressed on, her voice gentle but firm. "In another life, maybe it was you and me. Maybe there, we loved each other the way we always wished we could. Maybe we were happy. Maybe in that life, we did all the things we promised we'd do." Her smile faltered, and tears glistened in her eyes. "But we got this one instead."

Her hand moved to cup my cheek again, her thumb brushing away a tear I didn't realize had fallen. "In this life, you were my friend, my son, my love, and now… a stranger. But no matter what, you will always be my favorite memory."

I couldn't hold it in anymore. The words spilled out of me, raw and desperate. "I love you."

Her smile softened, and she leaned forward, her forehead touching mine. "I love you too," she whispered, her voice like a balm to my aching heart.

But then, she began to fade. Her warmth, her presence, the very fabric of this world started to unravel.

"No," I choked out, pulling her closer, as if I could will her to stay. "No, stay with me! Please!"

"DON'T LEAVE ME!" I shouted, my voice breaking, my hands clutching at her like a drowning man clutching at air.

She kissed my cheek, the gesture tender and final. "Stop messing around and be the person you've always wanted to be," she said, her voice barely a whisper now, like the echo of a forgotten song.

And then, she was gone.

The golden light dimmed, the world crumbled, and I was left alone in the void, clutching nothing but the memory of her.

I woke up gasping, tears streaming down my face, her words echoing in my mind like a haunting refrain. "Let me go."

But I didn't know if I ever could.

"Doom will forge a perfect world."

*****

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