Wanda sat in the back of the car, her heart racing as they approached Westview. The familiar sights of the town felt both welcoming and suffocating. She had always imagined coming back here in different circumstances, but now the reality was suffused with anxiety and dread. The chains around her wrists and ankles felt like the weight of her past-heavy, unforgiving, and inescapable.

As the vehicle slowed to a stop in front of her home, she could see the shadows of her memories flickering at the edges of her mind. This was supposed to be a sanctuary, a place where she and Vision had dreamed of building a life together. Instead, it stood like a ghostly reminder of everything she had lost. The air was thick with tension, and she could hear the faint echoes of hostility from outside. Her heart sank further. Then she saw it... Hundreds of people standing outside HER home... her safe place, vandalizing and destroying everything. She couldn't believe her eyes, and the sight was heavy on her heart.

Victor: Stay here.

Victor opened the door and it slammed shut behind him, and Wanda felt a feeling of isolation wash over her. She watched through the tinted glass as he approached a group of people gathered outside her home. Their voices were a cacophony of anger and resentment, fueled by the chaos that had unfolded in the past few weeks, now culminating in the most hatred she has ever received in her life.

She watched from inside, heart racing, ready for the worst. But then... nothing. The shouts turned into murmurs. The crowd, once hostile, began to disperse. She blinked in disbelief. Victor didn't raise his voice, didn't threaten anyone. As if his mere presence caused them to flee. One by one, they began to scatter, retreating into the shadows like frightened animals.

He opened her door, unclasped her cuffs with surprising gentleness, and extended his hand.

Wanda: H-how did you...?

Victor: A magician never reveals his secrets.

Wanda: Magician!?

Victor: (smiled under his mask) Come. Let's get you home.

With a shaky breath, she took his hand, feeling the warmth of his grip envelop her like a lifeline. She finally stepped out of the car, feeling the ground beneath her feet.

As she turned to face her home, a wave of emotions crashed over her. The sight was almost unbearable. Graffiti marred the walls, scrawled in bold, hateful letters: "Evil witch," "Burn in hell," "Stay out!" Each word was a dagger to her heart, a cruel reminder of the contempt she had faced since the darkness had enveloped her. The beautiful message that Vision hung on the front door was destroyed, the windows were broken... This was not just vandalism, it was a direct attack on her identity, on her privacy. Her safe place.

She took small steps forward, her chest tightening until it was hard to breathe. Victor's grip tightened on her hand, steadying her, but she couldn't stop. This was her home-the one place that had felt untouched by the chaos of the outside world, the one sanctuary that had held memories of love and laughter. But now, it was defiled.

Victor: Wanda...

Victor's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts, a grounding presence amidst the storm. But she barely registered him. Her gaze was locked on the walls, the hateful words burning into her memory. Each phrase resonated with the shame she felt deep within, the whispers of self-loathing that had plagued her since the chaos had begun.

Time stood still as she lingered on the graffiti. In that moment, it felt as if the entire universe had paused, holding its breath with her. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, blurring her sight. Her lips quivered as she opened her mouth to speak... She was shattered.

Wanda: How... how could they?

She whispered, her voice trembling with emotion.

Wanda: This is my HOME. I thought... I thought it would be safe from... from everything!

The walls, once warm with the memories of her and her family, now screamed with hatred. The graffiti felt like claws ripping apart the last piece of her heart she had left to protect. Her voice broke.

Wanda: Why... Why did they do this? This was MINE!

It was like they had ripped open her soul, torn her safe haven apart with their vicious words. Every insult burned deeper than any wound she'd felt before. The sting of betrayal flooded her chest. How could they hate her so much? How could they defile this place? This sacred place where she had only ever wanted love.

Victor's presence was quiet, yet firm, offering no hollow comfort, but instead an understanding of the depth of her pain.

Victor: Wanda... This was wrong, and I understand your sadness... But this does not define you. Those words have no meaning if they aren't true.

Her fingers traced the hateful words, trembling. This was beyond unfair. The world already took so much from her, and now... this. Even her memories weren't safe. Her sanctuary was gone, violated, destroyed by hands that couldn't understand.

Wanda: I just wanted... to be loved.

Victor didn't respond. He simply stayed by her side, a shadow in the chaos of her unraveling world, as she wept for the last place that was truly hers.

Wanda: I never wanted this... I never wanted to hurt anyone.

As tears streamed down her cheeks, the world around her blurred, and she was engulfed in the weight of her remorse. In that moment, she felt small and vulnerable, a wounded creature laid bare before a world that had turned against her. The graffiti, the anger, the fear, it all swirled in her mind, threatening to pull her under once more.

Victor stayed by her side, his hand a steady anchor amidst the tempest of her emotions.

Victor: You're not alone, Wanda. You can find a way back from all of this.

As if by magic, Victor suddenly pointed to a large bucket with two sponges standing next to the house.

Victor: Would you look at that...

She wiped her tears and looked over to the bucket.

Wanda: What?

He stood up and grabbed the sponges, and put one in her hand.

Victor: Let's clean this up. We will fix it.

The phrase echoed in her mind, reclaiming the space that had been tarnished. She whispered to herself, her voice barely audible but filled with a determination that had long been buried.

Wanda: I will fix this.

She would not let this be the end. She would confront the darkness, not just outside, but within herself. And as she looked at the defaced walls of her home, she understood that the path to healing would be long and painful, but it was a journey she had to take.

Wanda turned to Victor, the fear still in her eyes but now tempered with a flicker of resolve.

Victor: I'll help you. I'll help you show them who you really are.

The onlookers from all sides glared at Wanda and her officer as they began scrubbing the walls.

Whispers floated through the air, mixing with the sounds of scrubbing brushes and splashes of water. Some were curious, others were resentful.

But as they watched, the scene began to shift. Wanda's frustration transformed into determination, and the once-heated words of hate became a backdrop to a different narrative, a narrative of resilience. Her resilience didn't stop her from having intense emotions during this activity however. And the onlookers took note of it. Everyone also saw the trial on live TV so they all saw her vulnerability and reactions to everything presented, as well as Simmons' testimony of her mental and emotional well being.

Victor saw how this affected the onlookers and encouraged Wanda to keep going.

Victor: You're doing great.

One particular lady was brave enough to walk over towards Wanda.

"Excuse me... Miss Wanda?"

Wanda immediately turned around saw the woman in front of her. The woman looked in her late 60s, and she looked scared, but she trusted her gut. Everyone else tried stopping her but she insisted. Wanda felt surprised that someone actually had the guts to try and see the real her, and not hide from a lie they've been told. A lie that she is a monster.

Wanda: C-can I help... you?

The woman looked deeply into Wanda's vulnerable eyes, looking for any red flag, but found none.

"You really believe you didn't mean to do all those things?"

Wanda: ... I... I...

She looked over to Victor and he simply nodded.

Wanda: Nothing i-is as it... seems. I'm not what you think.

As the last word escaped her lips, she sounded broken.

The woman lifted Wanda's chin up with her fingers and couldn't help but believe her.

"I'm so sorry dear. This world is cruel."

Wanda simply nodded in agreement and closed her eyes trying to hold back her emotions.

The woman wrapped her arms around her and Wanda felt like a giant weight was just lifted off her. If one person was convinced, more could follow. She melted in the kind gesture, but felt guilty for accepting this from a complete stranger with no reason to trust Wanda.

Wanda: Y-you should go... I... I don't want to cause trouble... I can't... be seen with other people...

Her voice was shaking as she spoke. The woman patted her on the back and took the brush out of Wanda's hand.

Wanda: No I can't... I can't let you.

Victor: Ma'am, I assure you that Wanda feels extremely grateful for your request to help, but as her officer I cannot allow you to do so.

"Well... alright... It's okay."

She looked back at Wanda, but Wanda couldn't meet her gaze. She was too afraid of judgement.

"Don't lose hope."

Those words made her look back up, she could've sworn she heard this somewhere already. The woman smiled softly and winked at her, then walked away. She looked back at Victor, then back to the woman, but the woman was gone. Nowhere to be seen.

Wanda: Who... are you?

She tried remembering. The face... it felt like... and then she clicked.

She remembered after the Incursion War... a version of herself, from years into the future, said those exact words. "Don't lose hope". In this moment she realized that even through all of this, there is a possible future where she would end up happy. And maybe her future self simply wanted to come back here to remind her to keep fighting. Perhaps to not let her destiny be altered to a grimmer fate due to losing hope.

Victor: That was... odd. You know her from somewhere?

Wanda: She... reminded me of someone I knew... (Sniffles)

The sun started to hang low in the sky as Wanda and Victor still tried to scrub the hateful words off the walls.

Wanda: Will it even make a difference? No matter how hard we scrub, they'll always remember what I did... what I became.

Victor: Wanda, it wasn't you.

Wanda: They'll never see that.

Victor: They see the horrors, yes, but they also see this moment, seeing you fight back, reclaiming your home. Sometimes it's not about erasing the past, it's about showing them that you're still here, still fighting.

With each stroke, she felt a small weight lift from her heart, but the memories of her actions lingered just beneath the surface, haunting her.

Wanda: Why do you wear that mask?

She suddenly asked, breaking the silence again.

Wanda: Will I ever see your true face?

He paused, his expression hidden behind the mask, making it impossible to gauge his reaction.

Victor: I can't answer that out here.

Wanda frowned, confusion swirling in her mind.

Wanda: But how can I trust you if I can't see who you truly are?

Victor: You don't need to see my face to know I'm here for you. Trust is built on actions, not appearances. I promise I won't let you down. Not again.

His unwavering words wrapped around her heart, a gentle embrace that offered solace. Yet a small voice inside her whispered doubts. What if he was hiding something? What if he was just another monster in disguise?

Wanda: What do you mean not again?

Victor: Oh... Oh I meant... Not again like everyone else in your life.

Victor leaned closer, his tone earnest.

Victor: Look, I know the weight of being judged. Betrayed. Hated... But I'm not a monster, Wanda. I'm just a man trying to help you. You have to believe me.

His sincerity eased her fears slightly, and she returned to scrubbing, the repetitive motion becoming almost meditative. Hours passed as they worked together, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the chaotic scene. The once-bright colors of the graffiti began to dull under their efforts, and with each passing moment, she felt a deeper connection to Victor.

She felt a bond forming, a connection that transcended the surface. Despite the mask, she could sense his unwavering support and belief in her. In that moment, the fears that had once held her captive began to dissolve, just like the hateful words on her walls.

As they scrubbed, Wanda's eyes caught a glimpse of the last remnants of the word "witch." Anger flared up within her, igniting a spark of something she hadn't felt in a long time. Power.

Suddenly, she focused, feeling a warmth in her body. With hard concentration, she extended her hand toward the wall. To her astonishment, the words began to dissolve, washed away by an invisible force as more of her power surged back to life. The remnants of paint swirled through the air and dropped into the bucket below.

Victor stepped back, his eyes wide with pride.

Victor: Wanda! You just did that!

Wanda: I... I did!

She gasped, her heart racing with excitement. The giddiness of a child bubbled within her, a sense of joy she had long thought lost. She concentrated again, and another layer of paint peeled away effortlessly, revealing the clean surface beneath.

Wanda: I can't believe it!

She laughed, the sound bubbling forth as she reveled in the rediscovery of her abilities.

Wanda: It's like riding a bike again!

Victor: Well done. This is the start of something new. Something great. And you know what?

He leaned closer.

Victor: They won't have to know. I won't tell.

For the first time in what felt like an eternity, a smile broke across her face, the warmth of his words igniting a light within her.

After they were done, Wanda could feel like she reclaimed a part of her life. She felt a sense of hope and accomplishment just from something so small. And knowing she had someone in Victor, she knew she was not completely alone in this.

When they finally entered the home, it was just as they'd left it. The night when everything changed. When she was kidnapped by the government and sent to the raft. The same night her kids disappeared.

She felt so overwhelmed by just looking at her surroundings... It was like an aching nostalgia for what was or what could've been. She teared up again while twiddling her thumbs but quickly stopped herself.

Wanda: I'm sorry... I don't want to be like this the whole time.

Victor: Hey, there is nothing wrong with being vulnerable. Now, what do you say we get you out of these prison clothes. Maybe go take a long bath, find some sense of normalcy. You deserve it.

Wanda: Yea o-ok... Yeah... Let's... let's do that. (Sniffles)

She walked upstairs, but the room of her children caught her attention. She slowly walked towards it, standing in the doorway of Billy and Tommy's room, the weight of the silence pressing down on her like an unbearable burden.

Everything was exactly as they left it. The toys, the books, the clothes scattered in that chaotic, lived-in way that only boys could create. But now, the air was still, the space frozen in time, as if waiting for them to burst back through the door with their laughter and mischief. But they wouldn't. Not now, she thought. Not ever.

Her eyes landed on the window, still broken from the night they were taken. Glass shards sparkled in the dull light, untouched, unmoved, just like her heart. She stepped forward slowly, her shoes crunching over the shattered pieces. Each step was like walking through a nightmare she couldn't wake from. She dropped to her knees beside Billy's bed, her trembling hand reaching for one of his jerseys, still crumpled on the floor, unwashed, the scent of his presence still clinging to it like a ghost.

She clutched the fabric to her chest, tears blurring her eyes as she raised the jersey to her face. Her eyes fluttered closed, and she inhaled deeply, the familiar smell of her son filling her senses. The scent was a mixture of innocence, of warmth, of home. It was the closest thing she had to him now. Her shoulders began to shake, the sobs she had been holding back for so long finally breaking through. She pressed the jersey against her face, as if somehow, if she breathed him in deep enough, she could bring him back, undo all that had been lost.

But she couldn't.

Wanda's heart fractured into a thousand pieces all over again, the weight of her grief suffocating. She stayed there, kneeling in the middle of the wreckage of her life.

Behind her, the door creaked open softly, and she didn't need to look up to know it was Victor. His presence filled the room quietly, his footsteps careful as he approached, stopping just short of where she knelt. He picked up a shard of glass and sighed. Almost like he felt bad for what already had to happen to her, and what lies ahead.

Victor: I'll clean it up.

Wanda didn't respond, she couldn't. She was still clinging to the jersey in her hands like it was the only thing grounding her to reality.

Victor: Go. Take some time alone. You deserve that much.

Slowly, she rose to her feet, Billy's jersey still in her hands, her fingers brushing over the worn fabric one last time before she let it fall onto the bed. She turned and walked past Victor, her head low, her heart aching. His eyes followed her, filled with a kind of quiet understanding that, despite his stoic nature, did not go unnoticed.

As she exited the room, Victor felt anger towards himself. He saw her pain, and he knew he was beginning to feel something towards her. He knew for a while now. Flashes of everything she suffered through, in the raft and her whole life, flashed before his eyes, as if he recalled those events. He looked around and gnashed his teeth before hitting the wall with his fist in full force. He activated a communication device and spoke to someone on the line.

Victor: Erik...

Magneto: (on comms) Doom... Still not time?

Victor: They delayed the trial.

Magneto: But we cannot wait that long. By how long?

Victor: I need more time. A week to be precise.

Magneto: If we wait any longer we could risk everything!

Victor: Is Wanda not worth risking everything for?

Victor glanced to the side of the room where his eyes caught pieces of the glass suddenly withering out of existence, vanishing into thin air.
(Like Loki Season 2)

Victor: Just... Wait for the trial to finish.

Magneto: There can't BE a trial if there's nothing left! The strain on the sacred timeline is getting too heavy!

Victor: There's still some time left.

Magneto: But it will be too close a call. Your own people are getting impatient, Doom. You've been gone for two weeks. And the twins are... getting worried. When should we tell them the truth? About Vision? When can Wanda know the truth?

Victor: I will do what I have to.

Victor turned off the comms.

Latverion
The Ark outside the multiverse

Magneto: DAMNIT!

He flew back down the Doom tower to meet back up with Billy and Tommy.

Billy: Who was that Grandpa?

Magneto: Nobody of importance. You know the only thing that's really important to me is the two of you.

Tommy: And mom?

Erik kept quiet for a while.

Magneto: Your mom will come. She just needs to do something first, alright.

Billy: Why can't we help!? I am just as powerful as she is!

Magneto: Haha that's a bold statement to make, son. No, what your mother has to do, she has to do alone.

Billy: But you won't ever tell us what she has to do!

Tommy: Exactly! Why won't you tell us!?

Magneto: Stop worrying. Everything will work out. Your mom won't let us down. She never does.

Erik turned around with an off feeling in his chest. None of this felt right. What was he missing? He didn't know why he felt uneasy, but he was determined to find out.

Back in Westview

Wanda stood in front of her and Vision's bedroom. The door hung half-broken, still splintered from the assault when they had come for her, come to take her to the Raft. The memory of that night played out in the remnants of the shattered glass littering the floor. Her sanctuary violated. Her family ripped from her.

With a deep breath, Wanda stepped inside. She walked to her closet, her fingers trailing over the cracked wood of the door as she opened it. The familiar scent of her own clothes filled the air, and for the first time in what felt like forever, she saw herself. The person she used to be. She ran her fingers over the fabrics, the soft cottons, the cozy sweaters. Something normal. Something hers. It's been so long since she had worn anything that felt like her own skin.

She pulled a sweater from the hanger, one of Vision's favorites, and a pair of jeans. The simplicity of it made her heart ache. She closed her eyes, the feeling of the fabric grounding her, if only for a moment.

Wanda moved to the bathroom, each step heavy, as if the weight of her grief clung to her very bones. The silence of the room was almost deafening as she undressed, each piece of clothing falling to the floor like shedding the layers of her pain. She stepped into the tub, the warm water enveloping her like a gentle embrace, but it did little to ease the tension knotted in her chest.

She sat in the water, her knees pulled to her chest, her arms wrapped around them as she sank deeper into the silence. Her fingers traced the surface of the water, feeling its warmth, its texture, reminding herself that this was real. That she was still here. Still alive. She closed her eyes, trying to ground herself in the present, to focus on the feel of the water against her skin, the quiet hum of the room, the faint echo of her own breathing.

But even here, in the stillness, her heart ached for them, for the life she had built, for the family she felt she had lost. Tears slid down her cheeks silently, blending with the water as she let herself feel the weight of her grief.

For the first time in weeks, she looked down at her own body, seeing the bruises and scars that marked her skin. Her trembling hands hovered over them, tracing the lines and puncture marks left behind by Chthon when he made himself look like a doctor in the raft. And somehow, her scars wouldn't heal. She was not powerful enough yet. He took all of it.

He took parts of her dignity, of her very soul. In the raft, she was less than a test subject, but what he had done was far more than scientific. It was a violation of her very being.

She suppressed herself from ever thinking about what he did to her, but it was inevitable. Now, in the silence, it was unavoidable. He stole something from her that went beyond her body. He took her humanity. He claimed her as his. Acted as if she was always his.

Sinking deeper into the water, Wanda tried to wash away the memories and the pain. But the damage wasn't just on her skin. It was inside her mind, her soul. No amount of water could cleanse her of what he had done. The wounds he had inflicted in her heart were the kind that would never fully heal.

The memories of the raft creeped back and she began to panic in the water. She began breathing heavily and grabbed the side of the tub. Water spilled over, but she didn't want to make a scene... with Victor being able to hear everything.

But then she saw it again. A flash of a dark shadow-like monster in front of her. Chthon. His appearance changing into the Doctor.

Wanda: No... no! No!!!

She splattered the water and jumped out, huddling in the corner.

Wanda: Getawayfromegwtawayfromegetawayfrome!!!

Victor immediately knocked on the door and she looked up, suddenly there was nothing in front of her.

Victor: Wanda, are you okay? Should I... come... in?

Wanda: No! (She cleared her throat and wiped her tears with a trembling hand) I-I mean... No I'm fine... I'm fine...

Victor: Alright, well... We can talk about it after. I'll see you downstairs, alright?

Wanda: Y-yeah... okay...

She slowly stood back onto her feet and grabbed a towel.

This time she realized something terrible... This was not Chthon playing games with her. He didn't need to. Because he was already ingrained in her mind. He alone was her biggest fear... Her PTSD was the cause of these flashes. Not him. But her PTSD WAS his fault.

She finally made her way downstairs and was surprised to see Victor already in the kitchen, busy preparing dinner.

As she stepped into the kitchen, she paused, staring at the counter in disbelief. How were all the ingredients already laid out? There were fresh vegetables, herbs, and even a bowl of vibrant pasta. The smell of garlic wafted through the air, making her stomach rumble. She glanced at Victor, but he was focused on washing his hands, a slight smile on his lips.

Wanda: Where did all of this come from?

Victor: Oh, you know... I might have had a few things delivered.

Wanda raised an eyebrow, but she didn't press him further. It was strange, but there were more pressing thoughts on her mind. They began to chop and stir, the rhythm of their actions gradually soothing her restless spirit. She caught snippets of Victor's gentle laughter and easy banter, which made her heart feel lighter.

As they worked, she found herself studying him. He had an air of confidence that was comforting, yet unsettling. She could feel an undeniable warmth radiating between them as they brushed against each other, their hands occasionally colliding as they reached for the same utensil.

Wanda: Are you sure you're okay with this? I mean, being basically... forced to stay with me? I know I'm a mess.

Victor replied in a tender but serious voice.

Victor: Wanda, you're allowed to be a mess. Let's just focus on this right now. Cooking can be therapeutic.

His voice was rich and smooth, wrapping around her like a soft blanket, and she found herself leaning into his presence more and more, even as shadows of doubt flickered in the corners of her mind. And something else, a feeling she didn't want to admit. But with the absence of Vision and her children, he was the only company and anchor she had most of the time. Even though Matt was her lawyer... a very good one, she never really spent time with him. But she's bonded with Victor for over 2 weeks now. He began to feel like somebody she doesn't want to let go of. Even though she doesn't even know what he looked like under his DODC mask.

With each stirring of the pot and sprinkle of seasoning, she remembered memories of Vision. The laughter they shared over simple meals, the warmth of his hands as they cooked together.

Victor: Wanda? Something wrong?

Vision's absence felt heavier than before, like an anchor pulling her deeper into the depths of despair. The thought of her boys missing too, began to twist in her stomach. She failed them, failed to protect her family. Peter's absence clawed at her heart as well, and the worry for his safety became a sharp ache.

Suddenly, the kitchen felt suffocating. The laughter faded, replaced by the haunting silence of her thoughts. Without warning, tears streamed down her cheeks, the dam she had built around her heart crumbling. She tried to blink them away, but they came harder, overwhelming her. She grabbed her chest and she was on the brink of another panic attack.

Victor: Breathe... Wanda, breathe. I'm here. Ground yourself.

She took a few long breaths and sat down on the couch. Victor sat next to her in silence.

Wanda: I-I just miss them. I miss Vision. I miss my boys. I miss Peter! And now I...

Victor: Who's Peter?

Wanda: A good friend... I-I don't know... where they are, and I'm so scared... What if I never see them again?

Victor didn't hesitate. He reached out, pulling her into a warm embrace, enveloping her in the comfort she had been yearning for.

Victor: You're not alone, Wanda. I'm here. We'll figure it out.

Victor felt something almost like guilt as he hugged her. But he tried shrugging it off.

Wanda melted against him, her sobs quieting as she soaked in his presence. The strength of his embrace felt both foreign and familiar, the intimacy of it resonating deeply within her. She wanted to lean into this connection, to forget everything for just a moment, but every thought of Vision, her boys, and Peter loomed like specters, haunting her.

As Victor rubbed soothing circles on her back, she took a shaky breath, trying to regain her composure.

Wanda: I want to keep cooking. I want to focus on something else.

Victor: Then let's do that.

They returned to the task, and Wanda could feel the warmth of Victor's presence beside her. Together, they chopped vegetables and stirred the bubbling pot, and with each motion, she poured a bit of her pain into the food, transforming her sorrow into something tangible.

As the rich aroma filled the kitchen, she glanced over at Victor.

Wanda: You know, I've never cooked with anyone like this before, except Vision. It's... nice.

Victor: Good. I'm glad you're finding joy in it.

Wanda: Did you take the spatula? It was right here a second ago.

Victor seemed to feel a sense of foreboding and dread. He knew what was happening, but she couldn't know yet. Not now.

Victor: Uhm... No I did not.

Victor quickly used his power to summon a new spatula, then pointed at it without Wanda ever noticing.

Victor: Look, there it is.

Wanda: But I JUST looked there.

Victor: Perhaps you didn't look with your eyes.

She hit him with the spatula on his shoulder in a playful manner.

Victor: Ow!

Wanda: You deserved that.

She smiled at him while he rubbed his shoulder as if he was feeling pain. For a brief moment, the darkness that had engulfed her lightened. She felt the shadows recede as they worked together, a different kind of bond forming in the heart of her broken home. And with Victor by her side, she might find her way back to the light.

(From this chapter onward, you can read the short "Doctor Doom : Timeless" concurrently with this story to get the full background about how Doom got to this point. And it eventually reveals a big secret regarding this story)