Chapter 5: Equilibrium
The city was alive, but Victor moved through it like a shadow.
Even as rush hour bloomed across the streets of Queens, no one noticed the figure slipping across rooftops with surgical silence. Every step, every breath, was measured. The cloak barely rustled, and the wind made less noise than he did.
He wasn't hiding.
He was observing.
Calculating.
Testing.
Again.
And again.
> [System Interface – Diagnostic]
Power Core Stabilization: 3.6%
Active Sub-Systems: Analysis
Pending Unlocks: Arsenal (10%), Augment (15%)
Core Status — Request Detailed Metrics?
Victor narrowed his eyes and gave a subtle nod. The HUD shimmered.
> [User: Victor Von Doom]
Template Alignment: 12% — Latverian Sovereign
Body Metrics:
Strength: 1.4x Human Peak
Reflexes: 1.18x Human Peak
Endurance: 1.35x Human Peak
Neural Processing Speed: +24%
Energy Manipulation: Initiated [Low-Grade Kinetic Displacement]
Cognitive Traits:
Memory Index: Enhanced
Pattern Recognition: Active
Emotional Filtering: Adaptive
He digested the data in silence.
It wasn't impressive by metahuman standards — yet.
But Doom wasn't in a race.
He was in control.
He chose an abandoned industrial zone not far from the Brooklyn-Queens Expressway. Concrete ruins, old piping, shattered glass. A perfect training ground, forgotten by the world — much like him.
No one to interrupt. No one to witness. No one to understand.
He extended his arm toward a half-buried steel drum. It weighed maybe sixty pounds — more rust than metal.
"Stabilize," he murmured, voice barely audible.
This wasn't a spell. Not yet. But his mind reached again, finding the filament of kinetic pressure that he'd teased open yesterday.
A twitch.
> [Displacement Initiated — Force: 3.2 N]
The barrel trembled.
Victor exhaled slowly and tried again.
The second pulse shoved it an inch.
The third pushed it to roll — wobbling, off-balance, but responding.
It wasn't power that pleased him.
It was precision.
> [Repetition Detected. Calibration: Improved.]
New Output: 4.9 N — Accuracy: 42%
"Better," Victor murmured. "But not enough."
For the next hour, he worked silently. Not just hurling invisible energy — that would be barbaric — but mapping the relationship between willpower and force output. Between focus and control.
He tried different surfaces. Brick. Glass. Soil. Pipes.
The same result: gradual improvement. Adaptation. Refinement.
He took breaks in between — not to rest, but to observe. The way a leaf fluttered as he stood still. The way a loose stone settled after a breeze.
His senses had sharpened — not like radar, but like clarity.
The edge of a blade before it slices.
But the world noticed nothing.
No alarms rang. No agents came knocking. No tech genius flew overhead in red armor.
Good.
Let them sleep.
Victor would rise — alone.
Still, it wasn't enough to test movement.
He needed reaction time.
So, he built a crude pendulum from steel rods and cable. A makeshift trap.
He triggered it with a pebble and let it swing from the shadows toward his blind spot.
Three times it hit him.
The fourth time, he caught it.
Eyes closed.
> [Danger Response: Active — 0.36s Response Time]
Trajectory Prediction Module Sync: 14%
He smirked faintly, wiping a trail of blood from his cheek where the steel had grazed him earlier.
Pain wasn't a deterrent.
It was feedback.
"Again."
The trap swung once more.
This time, he didn't move at all.
The bar stopped in midair — hovering, trembling. His outstretched palm held it an inch from impact.
No contact.
No sound.
Just force.
> [Kinetic Output: 9.3 N]
Stability: 61%
His body was shaking.
It cost him.
But he had done it.
That night, he sat under a broken overpass, knees pulled close, cloak wrapped around his frame like a shield. The System faded from view. No screens. No numbers.
Just silence.
A distant dog barked. Somewhere, music throbbed from a nightclub.
Victor listened to it all — every beat, every footstep, every rustle of fabric in the dark. His awareness stretched thin, taut as wire.
Control.
That was the key.
Not rage. Not chaos. Not the loudness of gods and monsters.
But the cold, patient logic of Doom.
He closed his eyes, letting the city's breath pass through him.
For now, he was still unknown.
But the balance had shifted.
Ever so slightly.
And only he could feel it.