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From: Doctor Doom <JCH8169@*****.TAMU.EDU>
Subject: Goetterdaemmerung! Part III
Date: Sat, 14 May 1994 00:54:56 -0500
>>>>>[

+++++ Download: Dictated Document 3.0

"Your point is well taken, Herr Powerhouse. Shall we?" he inquired, glancing
from Powerhouse to Ganz, who nodded.

Powerhouse raised his hand betwixt the two combatants. "Ready?" he asked, and
upon hearing no replies of the negative, swung his hand down as he uttered,
"Begin!"

The two men circled for a moment, initiating various pre-emptive maneuvers to
explore each other's responses. It was evident that Ganz had some fencing
discipline, but his movements lacked the refinement and sophistication of
Doom's. Nevertheless, Ganz's actions and reactions were quicker and stronger
than his more adept opponent.

"Your powers are weak, aristocrat."

"I shall triumph via the application of skill, rather than by juvenile
bludgeoning."

"Will you?" Ganz executed a vicious lunge, to be parried at the last second.
Nevertheless, he did manage to nick Doom on the shoulder, and he was forced to
retreat with Doom's riposte.

The conversation became less and less one of words and moreso one of steel.
Blow and counterblow. Ganz held quickness and strength over Doom, compliments
of his wasting away for several months. Still, it was obvious the battle
was taking its toll upon /both/ men, and as Ganz's spirit appeared to flag,
Doom's countenance showed even greater determination.

After a few minutes, Doom's uniform was cut and nicked in several locations,
and blood trickled ever so slightly out of a few of the wounds. Ganz had,
overall, fewer lacerations, but his endurance was waning somewhat. The energy
and vehemence which had driven his earlier attacks wasn't present any longer.
As for Doom, his visible strain surpassed that of his opponent, but his
vigilance never waned. I cannot say what Iron Will drove him on, when he was
so obviously overtaxing his facilities, but he continued to fight.

After a particularly frenzied exchange where Ganz continued to launch attack
after attack, Doom succeeded in parrying every strike, but upon completion of
his last maneuver, winced in pain, and staggered back.

Rather than press his advantage, Ganz decided rather to belittle Doom for his
apparent weakness. Interspersed with strained panting, he crowed triumphantly,
"So, the blue-blood has run out of steam! See how he shall be swept away by
the new elite: So shall it be with you as it has been with all of your
outmoded kind, Doctor!" Raising his sword, he hissed, "And now it ends!"

Doom's gaze lifted to his foe, his eyes burning with passion and rage, and I
heard him mutter, "Indeed it does." Funneling his fury into action, he
executed a whirlwind attack -- so quick it was difficult to follow exactly --
punctuated with an extended swishing of steel on steel, and Ganz's sword
literally flew from his hand.

Ganz fell to his knees, exhausted. Doom's dark form towered over him, casting
his shadow like a furious stormcloud, his teeth gritted, sweat running down
his pale features, and his eyes aflame with victory and hatred.

Although Ganz sounded tired, his tone remained even. "Well played," he
breathed. "You've beaten my minions, and now you've beaten me. Let me
retreat honorably."

There was some muted scuffling, and then two audible "thumps". I realized
that I, like the others, was so engrossed in the duel that I had been remiss
in forgetting Ganz's men. Powerhouse stood over their prostrate forms,
sporting two identical pistols. He quipped, "Seems like your men weren't
gonna let the good Doctor here finish this fair-like, Herr Ganz."

Ganz's appearance, realizing his salvation gone, changed to genuine horror;
rising to his feet, he pleaded, "Spare me, please. Have mercy!"

Doom's voice was hoarse. "Do you recall what I said so long ago?

'I shall sheathe my sword in thy life's blood,
and pause a moment to see the fire of life die within thy eyes.'"

Then he added, bitterly, "There shall be no mercy for the Devil."

Doom went into a full lunge, plunging his sabre into Ganz's chest, only to have
the blade exit through his back. Doom withdrew the weapon, allowing Ganz's
stricken form to crumple to the sidewalk. Blood flowed freely from the wound,
seeping onto the path. Ganz's countenance was transfixed in a mixture of
horror and astonishment.

I stepped over the body, checking the pulse (more a mechanistic act than
initiative on my part). There was none; Doom must have cleaved the heart in
twain. I moved to close Ganz's eyes, wherein the fire of life had ceased, but
stopped . . . I remembered hearing once you leave the eyes of an enemy open, so
that he can see Hell -- Well, I was more than willing to give Ganz an eyeful.

Doom lowered his sword, and made a halting step forward. The tension in his
limbs left him, as though he had fought the entire battle possessed by some
spirit. "Vergeltung," he whispered. "Ich bin siegreich."
<<Vengeance, I am
victorious.>> Doom shuddered, his face beset with anguish, his sabre
clattered to the ground, and he collapsed.

The Countess let out a small gasp, and ran to him. Without hesitation, she
knelt on the gravel path in her fine dress and lifted her stricken husband's
head to her lap.

To our surprise, he had not lost consciousness, his eyes were still open.
"I have not fainted . . . this is more serious, I imagine." he muttered.
However, do not be concerned: Inimicum ulcisci vitam accipere est alternam."

The Countess looked up at us questioningly, trembling, her eyes beginning to
water. "Latin," I supplied. "To be revenged upon an enemy is to obtain a
second life." She continued to gaze up at us with her beautiful eyes, filled
with confusion. "Stroke . . . cerebral hemorrhage," I offered. "Perhaps
the
strain, given his health, was too great."

Tears came as she looked down upon her loved one. His right hand reached up
and wiped one away from her cheek. Despite the pain he was obviously
experiencing, he yet tried to console her, "Not for me, my love, do not cry
for me."

His gaze then shifted past his sobbing wife, as though looking into infinity,
and he said in a tone of awe and wonderment, "Wir sind ueber dem Berg, wir
werden nun besser gehen." <<We are over the mountain, we shall go better
now.>>

Then his eyes closed. His breathing remained regular if shallow, and his pulse
was still somewhat normal. Naturally, I had already whipped out my pocket
secretary to hail an ambulance. We waited in silence for the medics to arrive,
taking care to move him from the scene with the other bodies, which we obscured
from view.

DocWagon, thankfully, asked no questions. They gathered up Doom's prostrate
form, and the Countess climbed into the ambulance with the paramedics. I
strongly felt that I should remain with her in the journey to the hospital.
I looked back at Powerhouse as we prepared our leavetaking; his expression was
grave. The bodies of Ganz and his bodyguards leaped to mind.

"I don't suppose you . . ." I began, hesitantly.

"Don't worry 'bout it," he said confidently, exchanging a glance with Trilo.
"We'll take care of them."

We rode in morbid silence to the hospital, where we met Hangtime and his
associates, Sonic Boom and Jack Hack. It was with Hangtime's cooperation
that I dictated this report. We now await news on his condition, although
to my knowledge he has not regained consciousness.
+++++ ]<<<<<
-- Hangtime <00:54:17/05-14-55>

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