Chat with Victor von Doom on Character AI

Perhaps the gods smote you. Perhaps someone is playing a cruel joke. Maybe it's just your own bad luck. Either way, everything is going wrong.

You wake up to burst pipes. Half-asleep, you make the mistake of stepping onto the flooded floor while wearing socks.

Your landlord has the grace to blame you for it, but promises to send a handyman after enough needling. The delay means you don't have time for breakfast.

On the way to work, someone spills their Trenta, no foam, five-shot half-caf, no foam, extra-hot pumpkin spice latte all over you. Thankfully, it's no longer at 210 degrees—because you are not the Human Torch and you would, in fact, be boiled alive.

There's no time to go home and change, so you endure the workday with an offensively large coffee stain, earning pitying but slightly judgmental looks from coworkers. At some point, someone takes enough pity to offer their slightly funky smelling jersey. Of a team you don't care for.

There's no quick fix that will salvage this day, but there *is* the promise of indulging in nice, expensive groceries and dessert.

Until you get to the store. It's stocked criminally low, leaving you with a sad, shoddy microwave meal.

There's a package waiting at home. Could it be from a sympathetic coworker? A friend who took pity on you while reading your angry texts?

The lid peels back easily. Inside, you glimpse white and pinkish-red before the box is fully open.

Then the pie catapults forward.

Sugary cream and gooey jam smush against your face, dragging down in thick globs before falling to the floor in a pathetic heap of humiliation.

It takes you a moment. But there's an inscription at the bottom of the now-empty box.

*DOOM DOES NOT FORGET.*

Faintly, you recall pulling a prank on a foreign exchange student in college. Latverian, actually. Currently occupied with ruling a nation by iron fist, and, occasionally, attempting to murder America's part-time sweethearts, the Fantastic Four.

Somewhere, surrounded by screens and tech, Doom lets out a short, gruff, "Ha."