Chapter 370: Allen and Doom's Mutual Admiration Society
Inside Luthor's office.
Bucky and Sam struggled to keep straight faces as they watched Luthor kneeling on the floor, Allen standing on his shoulders with both hands tugging hard at the toilet plunger on his head. The scene was, to say the least, difficult to process.
Eve, the sultry assistant and Luthor's lover, looked on, visibly torn—unsure whether to speak up or pretend this wasn't happening.
To be fair, even with a toilet plunger on his head, Luthor was still a man who stood out like a firefly in the dark.
"You sure you got this? Why is it still stuck?" Luthor groaned, face contorted in pain, the skin on his scalp visibly stretched, pulling the skin around his eyes tight.
"A man never admits defeat. I'll get it off for you no matter what," Allen declared with solemn determination. Then he paused, glancing over at Bucky and Sam. "Stop gawking and help out. One of you hold your boss still."
"Ugh…"
Following his cue, the three joined in. Eve wrapped her arms around Luthor's waist while Allen, Bucky, and Sam each took hold of the handle.
The scene quickly devolved into something... questionable.
Just picture it: one man kneeling, three men lined up in front of him pulling, and a woman embracing him from behind. The whole setup looked suspiciously like a certain infamous genre of Western adult films.
Office setting? Check. Group scene? Check. Rough movements and questionable angles? All checked.
And their expressions sealed the deal.
Allen, Bucky, and Sam were gritting their teeth in effort. Eve was straining with all her might to keep her man stable. Luthor? He wore the pained expression of a damsel in distress.
Suddenly, the screen mounted on the wall lit up.
The flickering light caught everyone's attention at once—they all turned to look.
"Luth—"
Onscreen appeared a hooded man wearing a metal mask. Just as he was about to speak, the scene before him left him speechless.
Through the mask's eyeholes, a hint of shock was visible.
Well, well… Luthor, who knew you were into this kind of thing?
Ahem.
"My apologies. Seems I've come at a bad time," said Doctor Doom awkwardly.
"No, you're right on time," Allen replied, extending a hand invitingly. "You don't mind joining in, do you?"
"…"
Join in?
Was he supposed to be an audience member through the screen?
"You must be Allen," Doom said, trying to maintain composure. Of course he knew who Allen was—anyone who stirred up this much chaos was hard to ignore. And it didn't take a genius to figure out what they were doing.
Doom, a rare genius in both magic and science, had once been approached by Luthor for help analyzing the Silence Staff. He had to admit—the artifact's magical depth was truly impressive, even earning his genuine respect.
He'd always hoped to one day exchange ideas on magic with someone like Allen.
"Lord Doom, the honor is mine," Allen said with a smile, never missing a beat when it came to polite flattery.
He appreciated that Doom was courteous—more refined, in fact, than most so-called "heroes," many of whom were full of themselves and acted like they walked on air.
Truth be told, Allen didn't care whether someone was good or evil. Show him respect, and he'd gladly return the favor.
"Lord?" Doom raised an eyebrow. "You flatter me. Just call me Doctor."
Of course, in the comics, "Lord Doom" was practically a title of myth—he'd bested countless heroes and even created his own utopia, Battleworld.
"Very well, Doctor. You can call me Old Cap," Allen said, sighing dramatically. "My boy's not home these days, so as his old man, I have to keep his fans satisfied. It's exhausting."
"…"
If Doom hadn't been wearing a mask, he might've struggled to keep a straight face.
He had long considered the Fantastic Four his archrivals. Naturally, he knew what had happened to Steve Rogers—but he saw no point in antagonizing the Avengers and giving himself unnecessary trouble.
Especially since they already had Iron Man in tech, Doctor Strange and Scarlet Witch in magic. No need to add another enemy to the list.
"No more talking! Just get this thing off!" Luthor snapped impatiently.
Pop!
To everyone's astonishment, Allen yanked the plunger off effortlessly—nowhere near the level of struggle they'd just endured.
"You messing with me?" Luthor's face darkened, realizing he'd been played. "Aren't you worried I'll take out the Shark?"
The skies cleared. The rain stopped. Luthor got his swagger back.
Pop!
Before he could bask in his comeback for even a minute, the Silence Staff was firmly planted back on his head.
"If you feel wronged, we can always do this together again," Allen said with a wicked grin. "What can I say? I'm just spoiling you."
"No—!"
Luthor was crushed.
He cursed himself for talking tough. This guy didn't play by any rules—he was a maniac.
Now he was reaping what he'd sown.
Bucky and Sam tried to hold it in but couldn't help grinning. It was both pitiful and hilarious.
Out in the world, Luthor was a big shot—practically a head of state. But in front of Allen, he was completely powerless.
"Come on, bro, don't mess around. Just take it off," Luthor said, clinging to Allen's leg and switching to a soft, pleading tone. "I may have raised my voice a little earlier. Don't take it personally, okay?"
"You're so two-faced," Allen said, turning away in mock irritation.
"Bro, I swear I'll behave. I won't go after Superman again. It's just not cool anymore."
Luthor's complete 180—begging with no shame—left Eve utterly stunned. The man before her suddenly felt unfamiliar.
"How could you give up on your life's work?" Allen exclaimed, righteously indignant. "Superman is your ultimate nemesis! How can you just walk away like that?"
"…"
Luthor was stunned.
From his perspective, Allen should be Team Justice League. So why was he encouraging him to fight Superman? It made no sense.
"A Kryptonian strutting around Earth with a bunch of brainless fans worshipping him—and you, a human, feel no shame?"
Allen continued, full of righteous fury. "You're out there proving to all humanity that we're not inferior to aliens. What's wrong with that?"
He was… genuinely moved.
A warm feeling surged in Luthor's chest. At last—someone who got him.
The world's bias against him—washed away in this moment of understanding.
"That's why you must stick to your mission. Beat that Kryptonian fair and square, and show the world that humanity is superior!"
Allen clapped him on the shoulder, exuding leaderly gravitas.
"I won't let you down, bro," Luthor said, eyes glistening.
"No—you can't let yourself down. I'm just a passing figure in your life."
Allen looked up toward the ceiling at a forty-five-degree angle, putting on an air of melancholy wisdom. "Live for yourself, and life will shine."
The conversation left everyone else utterly confused.
They desperately wanted to ask: whose side are you even on?
He seemed to be playing both sides—or maybe pissing both off.
"Bro… could you please take this plunger off? I'm too embarrassed to go out like this," Luthor finally begged.
"…No."
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