Marvel Baby (Commission)

This was written as a commission for KryanAshford, based around the concept of a Marvel Comics hero with a baby theme. I hope you enjoy!

BAM! 

A blunt weapon slammed into the uniformed henchman, sending him to the ground in a whimpering mess. 

WHAP! 

The weapon spun around, its end rattling as it was driven into another Latverian soldier. It didn’t hit hard, but the blow landed solidly, and he dropped and began to cry as well. 

BOP! 

One last swirling attack, and the last of the guards went down, a wet stain pooling around the crotch of his pants as he bawled. 

The rattle shook as Baby Marvel stood straight, scanning the entrance to the lab for more threats. The three mooks she’d hit would be down for the count for a while, peeing their pants and crying for their mommies, but there were always more around the corner. The last thing she wanted to do was let her guard down. 

A canned, modulated cackle echoed across the laboratory floor. “Fool! Do you think you can just come in here and trample over what’s not yours? What makes you think you’ll do any better than the others?” 

She couldn’t see the source of the voice. Dr. Doom had a voice that could carry, but it seemed more likely that he was just talking over the PA system. 

“Well,” she said, pitching her own voice loud enough to carry. “The others didn’t make it past the front door! Shut it down, Victor, and I won’t have to take you in!” 

“You made it past the front door, certainly. Let’s see if you can handle the welcome party.” 

His voice cut out, and two doors slid open on either side of the laboratory. A dozen soldiers marched in, circling her, leaving no avenue for escape. 

Gulp. 

…

A few hours earlier. 

“Ba-ba?” Kimberly asked, holding out a larger-than-life baby bottle to the shield agent, Agent Jennifer Aside, who sighed and accepted it. 

“Alright, baby,” Jen said, taking the plastic bottle and sighing down at her charge. “Don’t you think you’re about recovered from that last battle by now?” 

“Thhhbht,” the girl on the floor replied, eloquently blowing a raspberry. She didn’t feel that her power reserves were quite full.  And, besides, she was hungry. 

Walking to the nursery’s small sink, Jen took a couple packets of baby formula, poured them in, and filled the bottle, shaking it to mix thoroughly. Once it was on a warmer, she wiped her forehead and leaned back. “Can you watch yourself for a minute? I need to run to the bathroom.” 

Nodding in agreement, Kimberly announced, “Ba… ba!” 

“I’ll be back before it’s warm,” Jen promised. 

The agent walked to the door, but someone else beat her to it, knocking to be let in. 

Jumping a little at the surprise, Jen opened it. “Agent?” 

Kimberly leaned back, slightly, so she could see who was in the doorway. It was a new agent, one she didn’t recognize from around the facility. He stepped into the doorway, facing Jen. “Baby Marvel’s needed in Latveria. Apparently there’s, uh…” 

He only seemed to notice the decor then, looking around. The crib, the playpen, the pastel sunrise painted on one wall. There was even a flannel-graph potty training calendar, with rain clouds marked on every day of the week. 

“Uh…” he started. “Is this the right room?” 

Jen chuckled, wryly. “You thought ‘Baby Marvel’ was a codename, didn’t you?” 

“I guess I never really thought about it.” 

He looked down at the superhero on the ground, who was busily stacking blocks while she watched the newcomer. “Does she… can she hear us?” 

“She can hear you,” Kimberly replied, stretching. “I guess I’m done charging for the day, then. Who needs their butt kicked?” 

The agent was only more confused by that. “Uh… Doom. Doctor Doom. What-”

“It’s her powers,” Jen cut in, explaining before he could ask the question. “She draws her strength from the magic rattle, but it feeds off of juvenile mental energy. After a fight, she has to spend some time in the nursery to build back up to full strength.” 

The agent started to open his mouth again, but Kimberly cut in. “Yes, the diapers are functional. I get as much power from a diaper change as I do from an entire afternoon watching teletubbies.” 

As he stood slack-jawed and took that in, she got to her feet. “If Victor’s causing trouble, then I’ll get suited up. Is SHIELD flying me in?” 

“Uh… yes.” 

Jen eyed her. “Are you sure you’re ready to fight? You were just saying you weren’t topped off. If you still need more time to recover, I’m sure we could-” 

“I’m fine,” she said, cutting off her handler. As the warmer on the counter beeped, she walked over, scooped up the bottle, and said, “I’ll drink this on the road.” 

…

The rattle spun like a quarterstaff, its head surprisingly light and quick as it clobbered the guards. Hurting them with blunt force trauma wasn’t the point; with each blow it sent more regressive energy into the mooks. 

A grazing blow was enough to make a grown man pee his pants and want a security blanket. A solid hit, and he wouldn’t be thinking about anything but his next diaper change for a solid day or two. It was better than a taser, there was no chance of killing someone on accident, and it worked regardless of the physical might of her opponent. 

Mental fortitude was another matter, but she had yet to meet someone who could get hit with the baby-maker more than six or seven times and still keep their pants clean. Even Baby Marvel herself, with her unique resistance to regressive effects, had to wear gloves if she was going to be handling the rattle for more than a couple minutes. 

With all that in its favor, the rattle was knocking down Latverian soldiers like a bowling ball through pins. Every sweep took down another target, and they weren’t getting any closer to hitting her. 

Or… that wasn’t precisely true. 

Nobody had come close to landing a blow, sure. But her strength, speed, and endurance were a finite resource. The reserves of power she’d built up in the nursery were starting to drain. She could keep it up for a while, if she had to, but eventually she’d run out of juice. 

Not before Doom’s soldiers had been taken care of, though. Spinning the hammer in triumph, she watched the last of the dozen men fall back, drooling as he put his thumb in his mouth. 

“Victor!” she yelled again, walking around a large rack of glass chambers containing strange, floating samples. She chose not to think on what those were for, concentrating instead on her mental defenses. “If that’s the best you’ve got, you may as well give up now!” 

She had to give the dictator credit. His laugh was particularly ominous, sending a shiver down her spine as it echoed through the PA system. “I think you’ll find that I’m just getting started, Baby.” 

“That’s Baby Marvel,” she corrected, as heavy footsteps echoed from the other side of the glass tubes. All that was visible was warped silhouettes, but they were big. “Are you hiring elephants as guards now?” 

The brawny soldiers stepped around the corner of the sample tubes, each almost seven feet tall, covered in layers of muscle, and decked out with a metal band around their head that crackled with electrical power. 

Doom’s voice gloated through the speakers. “Let’s see how you handle soldiers who can’t think for themselves.”  

…

“Fill me in,” Kimberly instructed, hopping up onto the changing table. 

“I, uh-” the agent stammered, blushing and looking at the ceiling. “Would you rather I wait outside, until you’re done?” 

“Time’s of the essence,” she snapped. “What’s your name, kid?” 

“I- Lawrence. Jim Lawrence.”

She nodded, untaping her diaper and letting it flop onto the changing table. “Jim, here’s the deal. If you can’t handle a diaper change happening in the same room as a briefing, you’re going to need to get another assignment. This is just par for the course, so either do your job or find someone else to do it for you.” Glancing over, she added, “Jen, a little help?” 

Her handler stepped up, doing the dirty work of the diaper change. “Doctor Doom, you said?” 

“Er… that’s right,” Jim said, shaking off his surprise and looking down at his tablet. “Let’s see… He’s testing some kind of super weapon. They sent in a team, looks like… Iron Patriot - That’s the new Iron Patriot, Doctor Ho - and the Wasp, but they couldn’t get past the door before his weapon shut them down.”

“Well, what’s the weapon?” Kim asked, as powder was applied between her legs. “Ray gun? Sonic blaster?” 

“It appears to be some sort of… mind influencing effect,” Jim muttered, scrolling down. “Here, okay: It’s an area of effect around his base of operations. Victims are described as having poor motor control, an inability to think clearly, loss of control of… eh… their ‘toilet functions’, and-” 

“Stop,” Kim said, turning to look at him. “It’s turning the victims into big babies?” 

Jim nodded. “It seems that way.” 

“And they’re sending me in, because I’m resistant to those sorts of effects,” Kimberly added, more as a summation than a question. “How wide is the radius from ground zero?” 

The agent scrolled more on his tablet, finding the relevant information. “Looks like… not far out from his base, so far, but it’s spreading. If it turns out to have enough range, he could neutralize entire cities with this thing.” 

Once Jen had the tapes firmly in place, Kimberly sat up, sliding off the mat. “So, stop him before he finishes the test, destroy the weapon, all standard. Am I missing anything?” 

“That’s the bulk of it,” Jim said, averting his eyes again as she started to strip out of her pink ‘baby’ onesie. 

Jen was already a step ahead, adjusting the pins on the potty training chart until five stars were lined up in order. The wall shook, then spun, revealing Marvel Baby’s costume and battle rattle on a display rack. 

Naked except for her diaper, Kimberly began to suit up. 

Her combat onesie came first, made from a synthetic material that felt like soft cotton but would resist damage like kevlar. It was pink, with a blue bib stitched onto the front. She’d initially wanted her hero name’s initials to be printed on the bib, but after it was pointed out that she’d be walking around with ‘B.M.’ printed on her chest, she’d changed her mind and had the complete ‘Baby Marvel’ written instead. 

While Kimberly did the snaps around her diaper, Jen stood behind her, holding a pair of pink ribbons in her teeth as she combed Kim’s hair into pigtails. She was ready and followed along as Kim bent down, tugging her utility skirt over the bulk. The skirt looked to be decorative, but there were pockets full of supplies hidden beneath the lacey ruffles. 

Next came knee-high stockings, made from the same material as the onesie, and a pair of custom fitted Mary Janes with rubber-grip soles and a steel-toe insert. White gloves that came halfway up to her elbow were next, the material stitched up with vibranium that would diffuse the effects of her rattle. As she pulled them into place and wiggled her fingers, Jen finished the braiding and turned on the two communicator ribbons. 

Finally, Kimberly took a large, poofy pink clip-on bow from the display rack, stuck it in place, and stepped back. No longer was she Kimberly, mild-mannered pediatrics student. Now, she was Baby Marvel, junior Avenger. “I’m ready.” 

Jen nodded, passing over the baby bottle. “Good work, Baby. Drink this on the way. I’ve loaded up your tablet with cartoons, but try and get a nap in so you don’t get too cranky once you’re there. Remember, if you get in over your head, it’s better to pull out and fight another day, don’t let him-” 

“Yeah, yeah. Jen, I know, but there are other heroes in there. I can’t leave them behind.” They made eye contact, and Jennifer nodded. 

“Just take care of yourself, Baby. You won’t do them any good if you’re dead.” 

Baby Marvel hefted her rattle, shook it a bit, and smiled. “I’ll be fine.” 

Jim stepped forward, reaching for the rattle. “Here, you’ll need this,” 

“Wait!” Jennifer snapped, but he had already grasped the handle, and a shock of its power ran through his body. 

The effect wasn’t so dramatic as if he’d been clobbered with the business end of the four-foot long battle rattle, but it was still profound. He stumbled back, the crotch of his pants growing wet as his mind was overtaken with regressive thoughts. 

“I… huh?” Jim frowned, looking down at himself and blushing. “I hads an accident…” 

“Rule number one,” Baby Marvel said with a sigh, shaking her head. “Nobody touches the rattle but me.”

His eyes began to water. “I’m sorry! I wasn’ tryin’ to be naughty.” 

Rubbing at the bridge of her nose, the infantile superhero asked, “Jen, can you keep an eye on him? I’ve got a helicopter to catch.” 

…

The rattle slammed into the first thug’s head hard enough to make his teeth rattle, sending a jolt of regressive energy through his brain that was strong enough to make even the strongest-willed warrior start craving a pacifier. 

He didn’t react in the slightest, except to spin a crackling stun baton into her belly. 

Electricity coursed through her body, diffused but not dispelled by her armor. Baby Marvel was more durable than most, and she shook off the attack in a second, but it ate into her reserves of power to do so. 

Worse, it gave the second brute a chance to get behind her, swinging his one baton at her legs. 

She danced back and spun, trading blows, cracking one of his ribs with the impact of her attack while a shock made her go weak in the knees and left scorch marks on her pretty white stockings. 

While he staggered, she spun to face the first thug, clobbering him half a dozen times around the shoulders. “Why- won’t- you- go- down!” 

His body reacted to the physical damage, but that was all. She’d seen people respond more strongly to just being called ‘baby’. 

She didn’t see the brute behind her in time to dodge. His stun baton struck home in the small of her back and she went down, falling to her hands and knees. Her strength recovered itself again, but slower. Her power reserve was draining, and she was making no headway with these thugs. 

Doom cackled. “Excellent, isn’t it? All my men are fitted with dampeners to resist the paralytic effects of my new weapon, but with these two, I went further. They’re the perfect soldiers. They can’t even think of questioning their orders.” 

Crap. Crap, crap, crap- 

She ducked away from one of their attacks, parried another, and found herself backed up against the racks of specimen tubes. 

It was their headsets. The metal headbands were radiating power like she was near a high voltage line, even more intensely than they had been when the fight started. They were keeping these mooks from reacting to her assault. 

Swallowing, she looked between the goons, raised her rattle, and swung it as hard as she could.

Into the glass tubes behind her. 

She’d mistaken the viscous fluid for water, but it was thicker and more viscous than that. As it rushed out of the tubes, it splashed over her, the goons, the floor, and most of the nearby computers and lab equipment. 

Their batons fizzled and died as they were doused in the thick fluid, crackling electricity sending shocks down their bodies as their weapons backfired and then died. While they were disabled by the backfire, Baby Marvel reached forward, seized both of their headpieces, and jerked with all her might. 

Metal frames bent, screws popped, and finally the two headpieces snapped and came free. 

Their reaction was almost instant. Dead expressions suddenly turned soft and sad and they fell forward, the effects from dozens of blows overwhelming them with more intense regression than Baby Marvel had ever inflicted on a foe. 

They fell, and she had to dodge backwards to keep the two enormous thugs from falling on top of her. Landing on the ground like two lumpy sacks of dirt, the thugs began wailing, arms and legs thrown around in an infantile tantrum. 

The flailing was almost as dangerous as their attacks had been. Baby Marvel had to dodge away, and as she backpedalled, she lost her footing on the slimy fluids. She pinwheeled for a moment, then landed in a sitting position a few paces away. 

She was exhausted. Standing was a chore, and she had to use her rattle as a support to get upright, but she still hadn’t squared off with Doom. 

That’s fine. I don’t need to fight him, I just need to get to the ray transmitter and destroy it. Then, the other heroes will come around and we can fight him together. 

Staggering through the far door, she tried to tell which direction the ray was coming from, focusing on her mental defenses and using them as a compass. Off to her right, there was an impulsive desire to give up fighting and find some dollies to play with. 

This way. 

Facing the impulse, she shuffled that way, keeping her rattle raised. Super strength or no, she could still hit people with it, and they’d still go down from the psychic regression. If they hit back, though, she’d probably be knocked prone. Worse, bullets would work as well against her as against any random passerby if it didn’t strike her armor. 

She’d have to be careful. There was no giving up, not when she was this close to her goal, and especially not when there were others counting on her to succeed. 

The automatic door at the end of the hall slid open and she walked inside, stopping to catch her breath. 

She wouldn’t get the opportunity. 

Across the room, in front of a radio dish the size of a small house, Doctor Victor von Doom was waiting for her. 

…

“Ma’am? We’re almost there.” 

Marvel Baby yawned, stretched, and blinked away sleepy thoughts. The five-point harness that the helicopter used had kept her securely in place through the whole flight, not unlike a carseat, and she’d been able to tune out the whoop-whoop-whoop of the blades and get in a good, long nap. 

“How far?” she asked, leaning forward against the belts so she could peer out the window. 

“About five miles out, but we’re going to have to land here,” the SHIELD agent warned, his voice a little muffled by his flight helmet. “Any closer, and we risk dropping into the radius of the ray when we drop to land.” 

“Pull us closer,” she said, fiddling with the buckle. “I want to get a closer look, scout it out before- Dammit, how does this work?” 

“You have to click and pull at the same time, ma’am,” the agent said, demonstrating. After unbuckling the clasp, he left the passenger area, sliding into the copilot seat to talk to the person flying the helicopter. 

As they approached their destination, she peered out the window, watching the streets below with razor-sharp vision. There weren’t many people out, and most of those who she could see in the street seemed to be sitting or lying on the ground, immobile.

That wasn’t all of it, though. There were patrols sweeping the streets, dark green dots on the ground, moving in teams. Latverian soldiers, on the lookout for resistance. On top of them, there were APCs rolling down the streets, machine gun turrets bristling, occasionally stopping to move a civilian out of the way.

In the distance, the lab stuck out like a sore thumb. It was a massive, steel structure, jutting up out of the city like a glimmering coliseum. She was going to have to break in and find the source of the regression ray, shut it down, and battle her way out. 

If they dropped her five miles away from the lab, though, she’d have to fight through a veritable army just to reach the front doors. That would burn through her reserves of power all on its own, and she had no idea what was inside. 

Wobbling a little as she toddled to the front of the helicopter, she stuck her head into the cockpit. “Pull us so we’re right above the front doors.” 

“Are you going to parachute in?” the copilot asked, punching a few buttons on the dash. 

She grinned, nodding along. “Something like that.” 

They pulled into position. Fighting against the wind, she opened the door, feeling the helicopter buffet in response. 

Taking a deep breath, she clutched her rattle tightly and jumped.

It didn’t take long to hit terminal velocity. Her utility skirt fluttered in the wind, showing off her diaper like a baby-themed Marilyn Monroe picture, and she focused her thoughts. 

Holding onto her rattle, she had to concentrate to keep babyish thoughts from intruding into her mind. Halfway through her fall, though, she felt those thoughts suddenly go up in intensity. It wasn’t incredibly strong, but it was noticeable, a soft increase in pressure suggesting that she go find a spot to curl up with her stuffies and take a nap. She shook it off, focusing on her descent. 

Baby Marvel hit the ground like a thunderclap, landing on one knee, striking hard enough to crack the asphalt underneath her. There was a loud, booming echo, and a blast of air that shot out from around her to kick up dust and debris in the immediate vicinity. 

The landing took a surge of her power, but it beat fighting through an army to get to the front doors. Now, all she had to do was beat down the front gate and she’d be in. 

Facing the front gates, though, Baby Marvel saw that her first job was already taken care of for her. The front door, a heavy steel thing, was sitting wide open, and just inside she could see scorch marks, shattered furniture, and a couple puddles of urine that nobody had bothered to clean up. 

“I guess the other heroes went this way,” she muttered, stepping through the door. 

There were guards on standby, and they charged her, but she was riding high on power and took them both out with a wide, sweeping attack. They went down, and she paused, stopping to investigate.

She could feel the effects of the regression ray that was hitting the city, but they’d apparently been able to fight it off. Crouching, she checked one of the Latverian guards, and after a second she located a small earpiece, not unlike a hearing aid, in his ear. 

“Baby Marvel to Shield,” she said, talking into her communicator. “Baby Marvel to Shield. Come in, Shield. Can you hear me?” 

There was a pause, but no response. Odds were good that Doom had shut down communication signals going out of his fortress.

On the off chance they could hear her, she continued, “It appears the ray can be blocked by some sort of earpiece. Either it’s carried by sound waves, or there’s a way to cancel out its effects. I’ll try and upload a scan of this.” 

Reaching into the ruffles of her utility skirt, she came out with a compact device that looked strikingly like a plastic, red View Master. Holding it to her eyes, she clicked it a few times, getting a complete 3-D scan of the earpiece and setting the View Master device to upload. 

Static crackled in her communicator bow, and she thought she’d gotten through until she heard a cold, menacing voice come through. 

Doctor Doom spoke, his voice as clear and crisp as if he were whispering in her ear. “There you are, Baby. Thank you for giving me your exact coordinates with that signal you’re sending out. It makes it easy for me to do this.” 

She heard the clack of a big button being pressed. A moment later, the subtle power of the regression beam hit her full blast. 

Pacifiers. Bottles. I want my mommy. I’m just a little kid- no, a baby- Why am I standing? I shouldn’t be standing, babies only crawl. I- 

She blocked it out with an effort of will. Focused as it was, it was a stronger impulse to give in to her babyish nature than she’d ever felt before, but she knew its nature, and she could fight it. In her thoughts, she remembered her training, calmed herself, and built a mental wall.

I’m not a baby. I’m a big girl. I’m… I’m...

“I’m a grown up,” she grunted, through gritted teeth. “I’m the grown-up girl who’s going to kick your ass.” 

Doom started to speak. “Well, it was a gamble anyways. We’ll see how well you do against my-” 

Reaching up, she pressed the small button on her pigtail’s ribbons, killing the sound. She didn’t need her enemy talking in her ear while she was trying to fight. 

Safe, for the moment, she took stock, feeling beneath her skirts with a hand. She’d wet her diaper, a little, but it had plenty of capacity left. 

Following the signs on the wall to the laboratory, she ran through the halls, swiping at the occasional guard who tried to get in her way. Aside from a few wannabe legends who thought they could beat her in a straight fight, though, she went unaccosted. That lasted until she made it into the lab, and was rushed without warning by a trio of Latverian soldiers. 

BAM! WHAP! BOP! 

Doom’s voice came through the PA system, calling her a fool as he sent twelve more guards at her. She spun, fighting them all, only to deal with his two great big thugs once she was already starting to feel worn down. 

SPLASH. The slimy lab water coursed over her as she took out the thugs. 

She shuffled down another hall. She just had to turn off the regression ray. 

And then, in the room with the huge radio dish, there was Doctor Doom. 

“What a pathetic performance,” he cackled, standing in front of the regression ray. “But then again, you’re only a baby hero.” 

Baby Marvel knew she stood no chance in a straight fight, not when her powers were so utterly depleted. “Where are the others, Doom?” 

“Your little tag team of Avengers? They’re in a nursery, being taken care of.” Doom stepped to the side, gesturing to a screen on the wall. It toggled, showing both heroes, all overwhelmed by infantile thoughts. Someone had gone through the trouble of dressing them in onesie replicas of their heroic costumes and armor, so Baby Marvel could easily identify both Iron Patriot and the Wasp, the former playing with a stuffed robot toy while the latter had her diaper changed. 

“Let them go,” Baby Marvel warned. “Turn off the ray, let them go, and we can leave this be.” 

“You can barely stand,” Doom taunted. “If you want them to be let out alive, your people will have to comply with my every demand. Though, now, I’ll have three heroes to barter with. And, don’t worry - I’ve got a babysitter on standby for you, too.” 

“You won’t have anything to barter with once I come up there and make you need a nursery of your own.” It was a hollow threat. Knowing Doom’s level of mental fortitude, she would have to hit him hard, or hit him a lot. Both of those options seemed fairly unlikely, unless he’d let her use one of those nurseries for a few hours before the fight. 

“Fool,” Victor von Doom continued. “You’re nothing more than your name would suggest. Useless. Pathetic. Just a baby. I don’t even need my ray to make you helpless, you’ve done it to yourself.” 

Well hey, there’s an idea. 

“Yeah?” she called back, moving her rattle to her left hand and using her teeth to pull on the fingers of her right glove, pulling it away. “You want a baby? I’ll give you a baby.” 

She passed the rattle back to her exposed hand, closing a fist tightly around the handle. In the same moment, she dropped her mental defenses, giving in to the regression ray completely. 

Infantile thoughts overwhelmed Baby Marvel, hitting her mind from all sides. The simplest concepts, even words, vanished. Her mind became a blank slate, wanting only to be soft, and comfortable, and safe. 

Pleasant memories of her mother swirled in her mind, blurry images and concepts that had trouble forming into concrete ideas. She could feel warmth, drool trickling down her thumb, the space inside her diaper filling with muck, the memory of arms wrapped around her in a perfectly loving embrace. 

For a half instant, the memory turned dark. The arms were ripped away. Someone was screaming. 

Mommy? Where’d you go? 

Where am I? 

She blinked in confusion. She could smell something yucky, but that was coming from her own diaper. She was sitting on the floor. It was cold, and there was a mean man standing above her. 

He’s a bully. He hurt my friends. Wasn’t I trying to stop him? 

Doom was cackling, his laughter echoing through the room, and after a few seconds of confusion, the world snapped back into focus. 

She’d dropped her rattle, but now she picked it back up in her left hand, got to her feet, and squared off in a fighting stance. 

The laughter stopped. “What’s this? You shook it off?” 

“More than that,” Baby Marvel said, flashing her teeth, throwing his own words back at him. “I’m a baby, fool, and you just gave me the biggest supercharge since teletubbies got rebooted.” 

“I… that’s not possible,” Doom said, taking a step back. “You were down. How did you fight off the effects?” 

She crouched. “Let me know when you figure it out.” 

Without any more banter, she lunged forward, full diaper squelching as she rocketed towards Doctor Doom with terrible speed. He was fast, and strong, but she was at peak strength, and he wasn’t quick enough to get out of the way of her first clobbering strike. 

Her rattle struck his arms, and the first blast of regressive energy hit him. He staggered, but his mind was strong enough to block the power of the rattle. 

So, Baby Marvel hit him again, this time striking around the midsection. He swung back, electricity crackling around a closed fist, but he was off his guard, and she only ducked away and swung again. 

Had it been a fair fight, she still might have struggled, but Baby Marvel never let it become a fair fight. She kept the strikes coming, fast and powerful, never letting him get a moment to retaliate with might or magic. 

Doom dropped to one knee, and she struck the back of his head, sending the evil Doctor to the ground and continuing with the flurry of blows. She had no qualms about hitting a man while he was down, not when she knew he’d eventually recover. 

She only stopped when she heard the doctor whimper. He was trembling, and when Baby Marvel stopped the flurry of rattling attacks, he began to sob. 

On his back, she could see the puddle forming, spreading from his armor onto his cape. 

Confident that he wasn’t a threat, she turned back to the radio dish, located its control panel, and destroyed it with two quick swings of her rattle. Instantly, she felt the pressure on her mind relent, confirming that the ray’s signal had been stopped. 

There was a snapping noise behind her and she spun, expecting a sudden attack. Nothing was coming for her, though, and she spotted the open hole in the floor almost immediately. A trap door had opened where Doom had been laying, and the mad dictator was nowhere to be seen. 

Crouching, she inspected the spot. 

“Baby Marvel to Shield. Is anyone getting this signal?” 

A second of static, a few pops, and then, “-arvel. Can you hear us?” 

“I can,” she confirmed. The ray is shut down, and Doctor Doom escaped after I gave him a lesson or two.” 

There was a brief pause. “Can you pursue?”

“Negative. Chances are, he’s already in an escape pod and halfway out of the country.” She smirked, standing to full height. “For his sake, I just hope he had a babysitter in the pod with him.”