Post by Graviton on May 7, 2018 0:47:13 GMT
Fear bred chaos. It was a fundamental rule that existed in any plane of existence from Earth to Shi'Ar and beyond. When a people were driven to terror by a series of events perpetrated by one being or by fate itself, what followed was never an organized movement to recover, but rather yet further trauma inflicted on the people, by the people. Those petty politicians who dared say they had power inevitably could do nothing but watch and, at times, give in to that very same fear that penetrated the society as a whole.
It fell on those with real power to solve the crises. So perhaps it was Graviton that had caused this carnage, perhaps it was Mangeto who bred this fear. Yet in the end they would stand above all others as sentinels for justice on behalf of neohumans everywhere. As the carnage multiplied and spread like a cancer they would rise as pinnacles of an entire race, followed not as mere leaders of a government, but worshiped as gods of a higher purpose. This was the inescapable truth. Peace grows complacency. Darkness summons greatness. It was out of that darkness that the true heroes of the world arose, not those so-called caped crusaders who emerge to wield pretended heroism.
Franklin Hall watched on quietly as, still, large and bright red trucks sped hastily from one burning portion of city to the next. It had been a full day since his attack on the coast, and they had yet to contain the most dangerous parts of the damage done. Typical, and weak. If he wished to spare them, he could have reversed everything in moments. But that would ruin the lesson. Would show mercy where none was deserved. They dug this hole, now it fell to them to dig themselves out. That was the curse Humanity had brought upon themselves. But as for the neos, and those that sympathized to them, that was another matter entirely.
One particular human had approached him during the assault, as the military force fled. He'd bowed before Graviton and introduced himself as a self-declared priest. Franklin immediately recognized him for the cultist that he was, but their religion raised the neohumans up as gods descended, so he was at least inclined to show compassion. Unconditional worship was the first step towards forgiveness. The priest-elect promised a house of praise and rest, where Graviton could dwell in times he wished; and it was an offer that piqued his interest.
So he watched, an old television crackling under the weight of static interference. The cult had its fair share of members, even hidden as it was in the rolling hills flanking Los Angeles' border. Their church was just large enough to sit around forty; it wasn't much, but it was a start. Under his protection, even the smallest and weakest of buildings could become a fortress. A safe haven to any neohuman who wished to join his cause. And all were welcome.
Franklin was confused, though he'd never admit it, when Doctor Doom appeared over the news coverage of the recovery effort. "Victor Von Doom..." he uttered over his breath, leaning back in the throne the cult had hastily assembled. "It was always only a matter a time before you revealed yourself. Only a fool would assume you would be left behind." His respect for the despot of Latveria began and ended in the power he could wield. His penchant for egotism spoiled any further admiration Franklin may have, for he himself was under no man. Doom would have otherwise; that all would be under his boot. And that, at its core, was something Franklin could never conform to.
And yet, Graviton felt Doom's appearance only created something of a chance. For he brought not only himself, but his people as well. That indeed would grant the image that neohumans had not only a hidden refuge, but an entire nation that they could flee to. It would only serve to give Graviton's and Magneto's fight that much more credence, whether that was what Doom intended or not. That, and while Graviton gathered followers to himself, Doom's nation would serve as the perfect distraction. It was perfect.
"Lord, who is this Doom?" One of the attendants dedicated to his every need asked, as she traced a hand over his shoulders in massage. Her voice hid a twinge of fear, that every normal human should have for any neo. "Is he like you?"
Frankling chuckled, a smile twinging at the edge of his lips. "Not quite, m'dear. Von Doom intercedes not for his own kind, but for himself alone. He will kill any and all who interfere in his desires for the world. But do not fret. You and your siblings will be safe here under my protection. You have nothing to fear from Doom or his ilk." She smiled, and her dark brown eyes lightened; the typical sign he took that she believed him. Not that he especially cared, but he couldn't have his servants doubting him. His ego couldn't take it.
Still, what amounted to Doom stating he had arrived meant far more than that to Graviton. It meant a changing in the seasons. It meant that his words the day before now carried even more weight than they already had. Those who were eager to make amends would seek him and his recruiters out. His numbers would swell. And when it was time, the entirety of the west coast would belong to him.
It fell on those with real power to solve the crises. So perhaps it was Graviton that had caused this carnage, perhaps it was Mangeto who bred this fear. Yet in the end they would stand above all others as sentinels for justice on behalf of neohumans everywhere. As the carnage multiplied and spread like a cancer they would rise as pinnacles of an entire race, followed not as mere leaders of a government, but worshiped as gods of a higher purpose. This was the inescapable truth. Peace grows complacency. Darkness summons greatness. It was out of that darkness that the true heroes of the world arose, not those so-called caped crusaders who emerge to wield pretended heroism.
Franklin Hall watched on quietly as, still, large and bright red trucks sped hastily from one burning portion of city to the next. It had been a full day since his attack on the coast, and they had yet to contain the most dangerous parts of the damage done. Typical, and weak. If he wished to spare them, he could have reversed everything in moments. But that would ruin the lesson. Would show mercy where none was deserved. They dug this hole, now it fell to them to dig themselves out. That was the curse Humanity had brought upon themselves. But as for the neos, and those that sympathized to them, that was another matter entirely.
One particular human had approached him during the assault, as the military force fled. He'd bowed before Graviton and introduced himself as a self-declared priest. Franklin immediately recognized him for the cultist that he was, but their religion raised the neohumans up as gods descended, so he was at least inclined to show compassion. Unconditional worship was the first step towards forgiveness. The priest-elect promised a house of praise and rest, where Graviton could dwell in times he wished; and it was an offer that piqued his interest.
So he watched, an old television crackling under the weight of static interference. The cult had its fair share of members, even hidden as it was in the rolling hills flanking Los Angeles' border. Their church was just large enough to sit around forty; it wasn't much, but it was a start. Under his protection, even the smallest and weakest of buildings could become a fortress. A safe haven to any neohuman who wished to join his cause. And all were welcome.
Franklin was confused, though he'd never admit it, when Doctor Doom appeared over the news coverage of the recovery effort. "Victor Von Doom..." he uttered over his breath, leaning back in the throne the cult had hastily assembled. "It was always only a matter a time before you revealed yourself. Only a fool would assume you would be left behind." His respect for the despot of Latveria began and ended in the power he could wield. His penchant for egotism spoiled any further admiration Franklin may have, for he himself was under no man. Doom would have otherwise; that all would be under his boot. And that, at its core, was something Franklin could never conform to.
And yet, Graviton felt Doom's appearance only created something of a chance. For he brought not only himself, but his people as well. That indeed would grant the image that neohumans had not only a hidden refuge, but an entire nation that they could flee to. It would only serve to give Graviton's and Magneto's fight that much more credence, whether that was what Doom intended or not. That, and while Graviton gathered followers to himself, Doom's nation would serve as the perfect distraction. It was perfect.
"Lord, who is this Doom?" One of the attendants dedicated to his every need asked, as she traced a hand over his shoulders in massage. Her voice hid a twinge of fear, that every normal human should have for any neo. "Is he like you?"
Frankling chuckled, a smile twinging at the edge of his lips. "Not quite, m'dear. Von Doom intercedes not for his own kind, but for himself alone. He will kill any and all who interfere in his desires for the world. But do not fret. You and your siblings will be safe here under my protection. You have nothing to fear from Doom or his ilk." She smiled, and her dark brown eyes lightened; the typical sign he took that she believed him. Not that he especially cared, but he couldn't have his servants doubting him. His ego couldn't take it.
Still, what amounted to Doom stating he had arrived meant far more than that to Graviton. It meant a changing in the seasons. It meant that his words the day before now carried even more weight than they already had. Those who were eager to make amends would seek him and his recruiters out. His numbers would swell. And when it was time, the entirety of the west coast would belong to him.