The inky darkness pooling at the foot of Doom's door flowed up across the door itself and onto the arm of the being knocking on it, seeming to solidify in a grip of iron.
YOU ARE NOT WANTED, that awful voice growled. AWAY!
With that, the shadowy guardians of Doom's abode flung the knocker away from the door.
The Danse Macabre CodexβAh, finally, someone with some manners!β Material-D responded.
βI am Material-D, Ruler of Darkness and Queen of the entire multiverse.β Now, normally that kind of claim would be ratherβ¦unrealistic, until you took in Material-Dβs expression and realized that she was completely serious. She turned back to the one in the red armor with spikes,
βYes, I call you a peon, because quite frankly youβre boring.β
Then the purple bot skidded to a spot at her feet. Glancing down, Material-D raised an eyebrow,
βAnd what are you?β
Sigma had to supress the urge to mock Centum right then and there: this child was seriously meant to be in the same league as the others? Obviously, the being was grasping at straws.
"I see... we have been brought here by a being who calls himself Centum, and apparently this is for entertainment purposes. Whatever entertainment he may hope to derive from me is going to be cut short. As for the claim that you and Huron have made... you both must be sadly mistaken. Nobody has come close to ruling the world except I; and all I need to do is get X to unleash his unlimited potential to bring my plans to fruition."
edited 31st Dec '10 2:42:12 PM by Flanker66
Locking you up on radar since '09βWe were referring to Sigma, who at least is polite.β Material-D answer in her dismissive tone.
βAnd I doubt yourβ¦gods have any power, even if they do then we will smite them from existence.β She answered the second part of Huronβs retort. Then she turned to Reflector,
βLord Megatron? Iβm afraid we know of no such Lord, for we just arrived here.β
The shadows receded from the door to Doom's chambers as it swung open, revealing the Latverian monarch in all his glory. The gateway closed behind him as soon as he was clear with a deafening clang, and again the Latverian monarch's shadow demons pooled into existence at the foot of the door, ready to bar entry to anyone save their master.
Doom folded his arms over his chest, frowning at the use of "We" coming from this white-haired child. Either she is part of a hive mind of some manner—not an imposibility—or she uses that term of address to denote that she is royalty. If the latter is the case, regardless of whether her rule is legitimate or not, real or imagined, this child certainly has an ego.
The armoured dictator shifted his gaze to the small robot, noting its similarities to the so-called Megatron. "An envoy, no doubt...small construct, where you the one to knock on Doom's door?"
The Danse Macabre Codex"I have not heard what you have to offer," Doom replied, his eyes cold as flint behind his visor slits. "You will explain."
The Danse Macabre CodexβOn the contrary, I am not metal.β Material-D seemed slightly puzzled by the question, but it did not matter. Then she turned as the metal and green clothed figure walked into their little meeting.
Tall, heavily armored, good use of his voice. Obviously competent or completely demented.
Material-D turned her back on the red armored being, ignoring his boring presence in favor of paying attention to this new being and the one who had just emerged.
Doom paused, considering even as he still glared coldly at the small construct. After a moment, the dictator nodded almost imperceptably.
"An interesting proposal, errand boy...but Doom does not barter with lackeys. Return to your master and inform him that Doom will negotiate with him in person or not at all."
The Danse Macabre Codex

An ominous growl emanated from the Door to Doom's chambers as Doctor Robotnik brush against it, and shadows seemed to seep through the tiny gap between the doors and pool on the floor. Tiny red orbs glared balefully, silently, after the rotund human as he was pulled away by the strange girl, poised in case anyone else tried to force entry.
Within, the Latverian monarch had at last completed his labours. A small device, barely large enough to fit in the palm of his armoured hand, lay complete on the table; the notable rivets and crude metal of its appearance belied the complex and delicate ciruitry within, an ugly facade concealing something all too modern and deadly.
Doom held the device and appraised it coldly. Crude, perhaps, and certainly not what he would have preferred had his laboratories been available to him; but it would suffice to accomplish what he required.
After tucking the machine into a pouch on his belt, the iron dictator redonned his cloak and turned to leave.
THERE ARE NEW ARRIVALS OUTSIDE YOUR DOOR, MASTER, his servants rasped. YOU SHOULD WAIT WHILE WE ASSESS THIS NEW POTENTIAL THREAT...
Doom's eyes narrowed dangerously. "Choose your next words carefully, demon," he said, his voice low and filled with implicit threat. "One does not dictate to or demand of Doctor Doom; one requests...or one begs."
A tinge of fear creeped into the tone of the monarch's summoned servants. YES, OF COURSE, MASTER; WE APPOLOGIZE FOR THIS TRANSGRESSION. AH...MIGHT WE POLITELY SUGGEST THAT YOU WAIT INSIDE WHILE WE ASSESS THIS NEW THREAT?
"There is no threat," he replied. "Doom has no rivals. Now make way!"
OF COURSE, MASTER...
The Danse Macabre Codex