As Howard lounged in his room at the Griffith Hotel, his attention was absorbed by a magazine filled with images of scantily clad women. Lost in the pages of his reading material, he was startled when the lights in his room suddenly went out, plunging him into darkness.
Perplexed by the sudden loss of light, Howard frowned and rose from his bed, determined to investigate the issue. He made his way across the room and repeatedly flipped the switch, hoping to restore the illumination. However, his efforts proved futile, as the room remained shrouded in darkness.
As frustration mounted within Howard, he muttered in annoyance at the sudden loss of light. He reached for his phone to call for assistance from his butler, Jarvis. However, before he could dial the number, a soft knock echoed through the room, causing him to pause.
Assuming it was his friend, Peggy, Howard composed himself and opened the door with a calm demeanor. To his surprise, he found himself face to face with none other than Dottie Underwood.
With a wicked grin on her face, Dottie leveled her gun at Howard's head, savoring the fear etched on his features. She placed a finger to her lips in a gesture of warning and whispered for him to remain silent.
Trembling with fear, Howard swallowed hard and acquiesced to Dottie's demands. He watched as she gestured for him to move ahead of her, pressing the cold metal of the gun against his back as they made their way toward an awaiting vehicle.
Dottie skillfully concealed her weapon and forced Howard into the car before taking her place behind the wheel.
As Dottie drove, she sneaked a glance at Howard and issued a question that hung heavy in the air. "You don't remember me, do you?" she asked, her voice laced with intrigue.
Confused by her query, Howard furrowed his brow in thought. "Should I?" he responded, unable to recall any previous interaction with the woman at the wheel.
"You and I spent a delightful weekend together not too long ago..." Dottie trailed off, her voice trailing off with a sense of sinister implications.
Howard thought for a moment, but the memory eluded him. "Nope, can't say that I do," he answered honestly.
In a sudden and unexpected move, Dottie's hand lashed out, striking Howard hard across the face.
* WHAM *
Yelping in pain, Howard grasped at his cheek, staring at Dottie in surprise. A smile spread across Dottie's face as she continued their journey to an unknown destination, leaving Howard to ponder his fate at her mercy.
The car pulled to a stop outside a nondescript warehouse, and with a forceful shove, Dottie pushed Howard through the entrance.
As Dottie slammed the door shut behind them, a figure emerged from the nearby bushes, a sly grin spreading across his features. It was Val, who had anticipated Dottie's plot to abduct Howard and had a few surprises up his sleeve for both her and Fennhoff.
The warehouse was dark and the air was thick with the musty smell of old cardboard boxes and dust. Dottie shoved Howard unceremoniously into a dimly lit room, sending him tumbling into a chair.
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With a glint of malevolence in her eye, Dottie struck Howard once again, her fist connecting solidly with his face.
* WHAM *
Howard cried out in pain, holding his broken nose in his hands.
As he gasped for breath, Howard tried to reason with Dottie. "Okay, I'm sorry. I remember you now. You're Dottie Underwood, right? Please, stop hitting me."
Dottie nodded her approval and strode out of the room, slamming the door shut behind her. Left alone with his thoughts, Howard could only wait to see what fate awaited him at the hands of his captors.
Dottie emerged from the warehouse, her expression unreadable as she approached Fennhoff, who was smoking a cigarette. "He is ready," she said simply.
Fennhoff grunted in response, his eyes fixed on the horizon as he smoked in silence. Dottie could sense his anticipation and impatience and knew that Howard was in grave danger.
Fennhoff finally spoke, his voice low and tinged with bitterness. "I have waited for this moment for two years," he said, his eyes still fixed on the distance. "Every second spent plotting Howard's demise after my brother's death."
He took a long drag on his cigarette, savoring the smoke as it filled his lungs. "Now, when the moment is finally here, I want to take one last look at the peace of this city before destroying it."
With a flick of his wrist, he tossed the cigarette aside and strode purposefully toward the warehouse, his mind focused on the task at hand.
Meanwhile, Val moved stealthily through the shadows, his heart racing as he crept closer to the room inside the warehouse.
As he walked down the dark corridor, he noticed a stack of mannequins in the corner of the warehouse. He quickly came up with an idea and grabbed a mannequin that was roughly Howard's size and shape.
As he approached the door, he paused, listening for any signs of movement. He could hear Howard's muffled voice from within the room, and he knew that time was of the essence.
With a steady hand, Val reached for the doorknob and turned it slowly, his heart pounding in his chest. As he pushed the door open, he saw Howard hunched over in a chair, his hands tied behind his back.
Val cleared his throat softly, trying to catch Howard's attention without alerting Dottie or Fennhoff.
When Howard turned around and saw Val in a gas mask, he felt a mix of fear and resignation. "Look, if you're gonna kill me, go ahead. I probably deserve it, but... leave innocent people out of it," he said with a hint of defeat in his voice.
Val smiled under the gas mask and said in a deep voice, "I have no intention of killing you, Mr. Stark."
Howard was taken aback by the unexpected response. "Then, why am I brought here? Why are you here?" he asked with confusion.
Val approached him and patted his shoulder as he said, "I am here to save your life." With that, he raised his hand and said, "Sweet dreams, Mr. Stark," and knocked Howard unconscious.
Val heaved Howard up onto his shoulders. With a bit of effort, Val managed to prop the mannequin up on the chair in place of the real Howard. He then double-checked that everything looked as it should and nodded in satisfaction.
He made his way toward the door of the room, carefully avoiding any creaky floorboards or obstacles. As he stepped outside, he breathed a sigh of relief and began to make his way out of the warehouse, constantly on the lookout for any signs of danger.
A few minutes later, Fennhoff walked into the dimly lit room and spotted a hunched figure of Howard but couldn't see the face due to the darkness. Believing that Howard was petrified, he sneered and said, "Good evening, Mr. Stark. I hope my assistant has offered you a comfortable ride here. Comfort is something you've always been accustomed to, being the privileged man that you are."
Fennhoff sat across from Howard, his eyes burning with anger. "You make millions from wars and conflicts," he accused. "You create dangerous weapons without any restraint and you don't even bother to keep them hidden and secure." He leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "Do you remember Midnight Oil? I bet you've forgotten all about it. That's what's wrong with you. You create these dangerous weapons and you don't even care about the people they harm."
Fennhoff's frustration grew as he continued, "Do you remember Finow? Do you remember the piles of bodies? Answer me, Stark! Answer me!" His fists pounded on the table between them, causing the chairs to shake.
With each passing moment, Fennhoff's frustration grew as Howard remained silent. He paced around the table and suddenly, in a fit of rage, he grabbed Howard's shoulder and spun him around. "Answer m–" he shouted, but his words were cut short when he saw that the man in front of him was not Howard but a lifeless mannequin dressed in Howard's clothes.
His shock quickly turned to horror as he noticed a ticking device affixed to the mannequin's chest. Fennhoff's mind raced as he realized that he had fallen into a trap, and he frantically looked for a way out.
In a moment of panic, he cursed in Russian, "ебать!" but it was too late. The bomb exploded with a deafening explosion.
* BOOOOM *
The explosion sent Fennhoff flying out of the room and crashing through the door. As he landed on the ground, he felt blood spurting from his wounds and smoke filling his lungs, causing him to lose consciousness.
Emerging from the shadows of the warehouse, Val made his way over to the unconscious Fennhoff. Shaking his head as he gazed upon the man, he muttered to himself, "What a shame. He had such incredible mutant powers, yet he wasted them on nothing more than his narrow-minded thirst for revenge."
Val kicked Fennhoff's body slightly, before pulling out a piece of paper and penning a message. Signing it with his alias - The Phantom Reaper - he left it behind before disappearing into the darkness once more.
As Dottie waited in the car outside the warehouse, she grew increasingly anxious. Suddenly, a deafening explosion rocked the building, sending a shockwave through the air. She knew immediately that Fennhoff's plan had failed. Without hesitation, she started the car and peeled out of the area, leaving the scene in her rearview mirror.