After Professor Williams left, Reed sat alone in the dining hall feeling both inspired and melancholy. Meeting someone who had known and respected his father reminded him why he was here, what he was trying to accomplish. But it also highlighted how alone he was in pursuing those goals.
Reed returned to his dorm room later that evening to find Victor conducting what appeared to be some kind of ritual at his desk. Candles had been lit despite the fire safety rules, and Victor was reading from one of his ancient books while manipulating what looked like geometric metal objects arranged in complex patterns.
Reed said nothing, remembering their agreement to ignore each other. He moved to his own desk and pulled out his personal project—design sketches for a theoretical spacecraft he had been working on since he was twelve. The rocket design was ambitious, incorporating electromagnetic propulsion systems and theoretical warp field generators that were decades beyond current technology.
As he worked on refining the engine specifications, Reed found his mind drifting to Ben Grimm. Ben had moved back to New York with his family a few years ago, but Reed still remembered their conversations about space travel. "Ever since I was a kid, I wanted to fly to the stars," Reed had confessed during one of their rare friendly exchanges. "And I always wanted to be the guy flying the ship," Ben had responded with that easy grin of his.
They hadn't exactly been friends—Ben was popular and athletic while Reed was the weird genius kid—but Ben had been one of the few people who had made Reed's life in Springfield bearable. Along with Herbie, his cousins, and Aunt Mary, Ben had shown Reed glimpses of what normal human connection could feel like. Reed missed that more than he cared to admit.
Reed tried to focus on his propulsion calculations, but found himself glancing over at Victor's elaborate setup despite himself. Whatever his roommate was doing, it was unlike anything Reed had ever seen.
Victor continued his preparations in silence, adjusting the metal objects according to precise measurements and clearly following some kind of systematic procedure. Reed noticed what looked like actual scientific instruments mixed in with the mystical paraphernalia—some kind of modified EEG machine, electromagnetic field detectors, and biometric monitors.
Despite his determination to maintain their cold war, Reed's scientific curiosity was getting the better of him. Victor was approaching whatever this was with the same methodical precision that Reed brought to his own experiments, and that intrigued him more than he cared to admit.
"What are you doing?" Reed asked finally, trying to keep his voice neutral.
Victor paused in his preparations and glanced over with obvious irritation. "I thought we agreed to ignore each other's existence."
"We did," Reed said. "But I've never seen anything like this setup before. From a purely scientific perspective."
Victor studied Reed for a long moment, as if weighing whether to respond or simply tell him to go away. "Calibrating astral projection equipment," he said finally. "The dimensional barriers in this location are particularly stable, which should facilitate initial experiments in consciousness transfer."
Reed watched as Victor made final adjustments to his equipment. "You're using biometric monitoring?"
"Heart rate, brain wave patterns, electromagnetic field fluctuations around the physical body," Victor confirmed, his tone remaining coldly professional. "I am not the primitive mystic you apparently believe me to be."
"I can see that," Reed admitted. Whatever Victor's theories about astral projection, his experimental methodology looked genuinely rigorous. "Would you mind if I observed? I won't interfere."
Victor's green eyes narrowed with suspicion. "Why?"
"Because I've never seen someone attempt to systematically investigate consciousness transfer," Reed said honestly. "Even if I disagree with your theoretical framework, I'm curious about your methodology."
Victor considered this for several seconds, clearly weighing his desire to be left alone against what might have been a small flicker of pride in his work. "Very well," he said finally. "But you will remain completely silent. Any disruption could have serious consequences."
Reed moved his chair to where he could observe without interfering, settling in to watch as Victor completed his preparations. Despite their mutual hostility, he had to admit that Victor's experimental setup looked impressively professional.
"This is not entertainment," Victor said sharply, apparently noticing Reed's obvious fascination. "What I am attempting is dangerous and requires absolute concentration."
"Understood," Reed replied, his voice subdued. Whatever was about to happen, he could see that Victor was taking it very seriously indeed.
As Victor began what appeared to be a complex meditation sequence, Reed found himself genuinely curious about the results. Even if Victor's theories about mystical forces were completely wrong, his approach to testing them was undeniably systematic. And Reed had learned long ago that the most interesting discoveries often came from investigating phenomena that conventional wisdom declared impossible.
The next few hours would prove to be both fascinating and deeply disturbing, giving Reed his first glimpse into forces that would challenge everything he thought he knew about the nature of reality.
—
Reed's first day of classes at MIT was a disaster from the moment he opened his eyes. His alarm clock had somehow reset itself to the wrong time zone, leaving him with exactly twelve minutes to shower, dress, grab his books, and navigate an unfamiliar campus to find his Introduction to Mechanical Engineering class.
He ran across the campus quad with his backpack bouncing against his spine, consulting the campus map every few seconds while other students strolled casually toward their destinations. Reed had always been terrible with spatial navigation, and MIT's campus seemed designed by someone who enjoyed watching freshmen panic.
"Building 3, Room 270," Reed muttered to himself, checking his schedule for the hundredth time. "Building 3, Room 270."
But finding Building 3 proved more challenging than solving differential equations. Reed circled the same courtyard twice before realizing he had been reading the building numbers wrong, then sprinted up three flights of stairs only to discover he was in the wrong building entirely.
By the time Reed finally located the correct classroom, he was sweating, out of breath, and seven minutes late. He slipped through the door as quietly as possible, hoping to avoid drawing attention to himself. The professor was already writing equations on the blackboard, and most of the seats were taken.
Reed scanned the room frantically for an empty chair, and his eyes stopped on a familiar face in the third row. The young man had grown considerably since Reed had last seen him—broader shoulders, more confident posture, the kind of presence that suggested he belonged wherever he was. But the sandy brown hair and kind eyes were unmistakable.
"Ben?" Reed whispered, hardly believing his luck.
Ben Grimm turned at the sound of his name, and his face lit up with genuine surprise and pleasure. "Reed Richards? Holy cow, what are you doing here?"
"Same thing you are, I hope," Reed said, sliding into the empty seat next to Ben. "Trying to get an engineering degree."
"Mr. Richards," the professor called out, having noticed Reed's late entrance. "Since you're joining us, perhaps you'd like to solve the stress analysis problem I've just written on the board?"
Reed looked at the blackboard, where a complex structural engineering problem had been laid out. It involved calculating load distributions across a bridge support system—well within his capabilities, but embarrassing to be singled out on his first day.
"The maximum stress occurs at the central support beam," Reed said, standing up reluctantly. "Using the principle of superposition, the combined loads create a stress concentration factor of approximately 2.3, assuming standard steel construction with a yield strength of 36,000 PSI."
The professor looked surprised, apparently having expected to stump the late student. "Very good, Mr. Richards. But please try to arrive on time in the future."
Reed sat back down, his face burning with embarrassment, while Ben looked at him with obvious amazement.
"Show off," Ben whispered with a grin that took any sting out of the words.
After class, Reed and Ben walked together toward the campus center, catching up on the years that had passed since Ben's family moved back to New York.
"So you're really here at MIT," Ben said, shaking his head in wonder. "I heard you graduated high school early, but I figured you'd end up somewhere like Harvard or Princeton."
"MIT has the best engineering programs," Reed explained. "Plus their physics department is doing some incredible research. What about you? I never figured you for an engineering student."
Ben's expression became slightly defensive. "Yeah, well, turns out the dumb jock stereotype isn't all there is to me. I'm here on a football scholarship, but I want to learn how to build things. Real things, you know? Bridges, buildings, maybe even spacecraft someday."
Reed felt a flutter of excitement at the mention of spacecraft. "That's exactly what I want to do. I've been designing theoretical propulsion systems since I was twelve."
"No kidding?" Ben's interest was genuine. "Like rockets and stuff?"
"More advanced than rockets," Reed said, pulling out his notebook to show Ben some of his sketches. "These designs use electromagnetic field manipulation for propulsion instead of chemical rockets. Theoretically, they could achieve much higher velocities with better fuel efficiency."
Ben studied the drawings with obvious fascination. "This is incredible, Reed. I can barely follow the math, but the engineering looks solid. You really think something like this could work?"
"With the right materials and power source, absolutely," Reed said, warming to his favorite subject. "The biggest challenge is generating sufficient electromagnetic field strength, but I think I've found some promising approaches."
They found a table in the student center and continued their conversation over lunch. Reed discovered that Ben had changed in more ways than just physical growth—he was more confident, more articulate, but still possessed the same basic decency that Reed remembered from their childhood interactions.
"So what's your roommate situation like?" Ben asked. "Please tell me you got someone normal."
Reed grimaced. "Victor Von Doom. Foreign exchange student from Latveria. He's... difficult."
"Difficult how?"
"He studies what he calls mystical forces," Reed explained. "Astral projection, dimensional manipulation, that sort of thing. We got into a pretty serious fight on our first day."
Ben raised his eyebrows. "A fight? You? I've never seen you raise your voice, let alone throw a punch."
"Yeah, well, he said some things about my father that I couldn't let slide," Reed said quietly. "We're basically ignoring each other now, except when his midnight experiments interfere with my sleep."
"Midnight experiments?"
"Don't ask," Reed said with a rueful smile. "Let's just say living with Victor is like sharing a room with a medieval alchemist who thinks he's discovered the secrets of the universe."
Ben chuckled. "Sounds like a real piece of work. You want me to have a talk with him? Sometimes these intellectual types need to be reminded about basic courtesy."
Reed appreciated the offer but shook his head. "Thanks, but I think that would just make things worse. Victor doesn't respond well to what he calls 'American brutality.'"
"Well, if you change your mind, let me know," Ben said. "Nobody messes with my friends."
Reed felt a warm glow at being called Ben's friend. During their childhood, he had never been sure if Ben genuinely liked him or just felt sorry for the weird smart kid. But this older, more mature Ben seemed to value Reed's company for its own sake.
"So tell me about this football scholarship," Reed said. "Are you planning to go pro?"
Ben's face lit up with genuine enthusiasm. "That's the plan. Coaches say I've got real potential—maybe even NFL material if I keep developing. The engineering degree is just backup, you know? Something to fall back on if I blow out a knee or don't make the cut."
"But you're actually interested in engineering, right?" Reed asked, surprised by Ben's casual dismissal of academics.
Ben shrugged. "It's interesting enough, I guess. But let's be honest—I'm here to play football. The degree is just what I need to stay eligible and have something to show my old man. He's always saying I need a 'real plan' beyond sports."
Reed felt slightly deflated. He had hoped that Ben shared his passion for building and discovery, but it was clear that football came first. Still, Ben's casual mention of their old dreams gave Reed hope.
"You remember what we used to talk about as kids?" Reed asked carefully. "About space travel?"
Ben grinned, though there was something slightly patronizing in his expression. "Yeah, I remember. You always said you wanted to fly to the stars, and I said I wanted to be the guy flying the ship. Those were some pretty wild dreams for a couple of kids."
"They don't have to stay dreams," Reed said earnestly. "The technology I'm working on could actually make interplanetary travel possible within our lifetime."
"That's great, Reed, really," Ben said, but his tone suggested he was humoring a childhood fantasy rather than discussing genuine possibilities. "But right now I'm more focused on making it to the NFL. Maybe after my football career winds down, I'll think about rocket ships again."
Reed tried to hide his disappointment. The Ben he remembered had seemed genuinely excited about the possibility of space exploration. This older Ben seemed to view those conversations as childhood nonsense, something to be outgrown rather than pursued.
"So what position do you play?" Reed asked, changing the subject to something Ben clearly cared more about.
"Defensive tackle," Ben said proudly. "I've put on about forty pounds since high school, and I can bench press over 400 now. Coach says I've got the size and strength to really dominate the line."
They made plans to meet for lunch the next day, and Reed walked back to his dorm feeling oddly conflicted. Having Ben around made the campus feel less alien, less overwhelming, and for the first time in years Reed felt like he might actually have a real friend. But this Ben seemed more focused on athletic achievement than intellectual curiosity, more interested in immediate success than long-term dreams.
Still, Reed told himself, people changed as they matured. Maybe Ben's priorities would shift once he got more involved in his engineering coursework. Maybe their old shared dreams weren't completely dead.
But his good mood evaporated the moment he opened his dorm room door and found Victor in the middle of one of his mystical experiments.
Reed sighed deeply, watching his roommate manipulate geometric metal objects while chanting in what sounded like Latin. "It's only a year," he muttered to himself, closing the door quietly and heading back out to find somewhere else to study.
Reed's first week at MIT passed in a blur of overwhelming stimulation and confusing social dynamics. During the day, he attended classes where professors didn't know how to treat a sixteen-year-old student, and his classmates seemed to view him as either a curiosity or a threat.
"So you're the kid genius everyone's talking about," said Marcus Jones, a sophomore in Reed's Advanced Electromagnetic Theory class. "Must be nice having everything come so easy."
Reed wanted to explain that nothing had ever come easy, that every academic achievement had been earned through countless hours of lonely study and social isolation. But he had learned years ago that trying to correct people's assumptions about "genius" usually made them more resentful, not more understanding.
"I just like physics," Reed said quietly, hoping to defuse any tension.
"Right," Marcus said with obvious skepticism. "Well, try not to make the rest of us look too stupid, okay?"
By the end of his first week, however, Reed's professors had begun to take notice of his exceptional abilities. In Advanced Electromagnetic Theory, Professor Martinez was impressed when Reed casually corrected a small error in Maxwell's equations on the blackboard. In Quantum Mechanics, Dr. Peterson asked Reed to stay after class to discuss his insights on wave-particle duality.
"You have a remarkable intuitive grasp of these concepts," Dr. Peterson told him. "Have you considered graduate-level research?"
Reed's meeting with Professor Williams proved to be a turning point. Nathaniel's former colleague welcomed Reed into his laboratory with genuine warmth, and Reed found himself assigned to a research project involving theoretical propulsion systems.
"Your father would be proud," Professor Williams said as he showed Reed around the advanced physics lab. "You have his gift for seeing patterns that others miss."
The work was challenging and exhilarating. Reed spent his afternoons in the lab, designing electromagnetic field configurations and running computer simulations of theoretical spacecraft. For the first time since arriving at MIT, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere.
The isolation might have been unbearable if not for his renewed friendship with Ben. They began meeting regularly for lunch, and Ben started hanging out with Reed after his engineering classes. While Ben's primary focus remained football, he showed genuine interest in Reed's spacecraft designs.
"You really think this could work?" Ben asked one afternoon, studying Reed's latest propulsion calculations. "Like, actually fly to Mars?"
"The theoretical framework is sound," Reed explained, warming naturally to his closest friend on campus. "The biggest challenge is generating sufficient power for the electromagnetic fields, but I think I've found some promising approaches."
Their friendship deepened over the following weeks. Ben would stop by the physics lab after practice, still sweaty from training, to see what Reed was working on. In return, Reed attended a few of Ben's football games, marveling at his friend's athletic prowess even if he didn't fully understand the sport.
But Reed's living situation remained increasingly tense. As September turned to October, Victor's experiments grew more elaborate and secretive. He installed additional equipment that hummed at all hours, creating electromagnetic interference that ruined Reed's radio telescope observations.
"Could you keep it down?" Reed asked one night around 2 AM, when Victor's latest experiment involved what sounded like chanting in multiple languages. "I have an exam tomorrow."
"Knowledge cannot be obtained on a convenient schedule," Victor replied without pausing in his ritual. "True understanding requires dedication beyond mundane considerations like sleep or academic examinations."
Victor had become increasingly paranoid about his research, covering his notes whenever Reed entered the room and speaking in cryptic references about "dimensional barriers" and "astral projection matrices." Their brief period of cooperation had ended weeks ago, replaced by cold hostility and mutual avoidance.
Reed tried to focus on his own work, but Victor's late-night experiments made studying impossible. The electromagnetic readings from Victor's equipment were growing stronger and more erratic, creating interference patterns that suggested his roommate was working with dangerous levels of energy.
One evening in mid-October, Reed returned from the lab to find Victor's equipment arranged in an entirely new configuration. Strange geometric patterns had been drawn on the floor in what looked like chalk mixed with metallic powder, and several devices Reed didn't recognize hummed with barely contained energy.
"What is all this?" Reed asked, genuinely concerned about the safety implications.
"None of your concern," Victor replied coldly, not looking up from his calculations.
But Reed caught a glimpse of Victor's equations over his shoulder, and what he saw made his blood run cold. The mathematical framework was brilliant but fundamentally flawed, incorporating mystical symbols alongside legitimate physics in ways that would create catastrophic energy feedback.
"Victor, these calculations—there's an error in your dimensional transfer matrix," Reed said urgently. "If you activate this system, the energy cascade could—"
"You dare critique my work?" Victor spun around, his green eyes blazing with fury. "You think your limited understanding of conventional physics qualifies you to judge research that transcends your pathetic academic boundaries?"
"I'm trying to help," Reed insisted "The mathematics are wrong. Look at equation seventeen—you've reversed the polarity constants. If you continue with this configuration, the system will overload."
"My calculations are perfect," Victor snarled. "Unlike you, I understand forces that exist beyond the electromagnetic spectrum. My mother's knowledge guides my work in ways your mundane education could never comprehend."
Reed stared at the equations again, seeing the elegant but ultimately flawed fusion of scientific principles and mystical symbolism. "Victor, please. Just double-check the energy requirements. The power levels you're attempting to generate could seriously hurt someone."
"Get away from my research," Victor commanded, physically blocking Reed's view of his notes. "Your presence here is unwelcome and unnecessary."
For the next week, Victor worked in absolute secrecy, covering his equipment whenever Reed was in the room and refusing all attempts at communication. Reed tried to focus on his own studies, but he couldn't shake the feeling that his roommate was heading toward disaster.
On a cold October night, Reed was awakened by the sound of Victor's equipment powering up to levels he had never heard before. The electromagnetic readings were off the charts, creating interference that made Reed's hair stand on end and caused his electronic devices to malfunction.
"Victor?" Reed called out, but his roommate was deep in some kind of trance, chanting in what sounded like ancient Latin while manipulating controls that glowed with unnatural energy.
Reed watched in growing alarm as the mystical patterns on the floor began to emit their own light, and the air in the room seemed to shimmer with heat distortion. Whatever Victor was attempting, the energy levels were approaching dangerous thresholds.
"Victor, stop!" Reed shouted. "The system is overloading!"
But Victor was beyond hearing, lost in his ritual as the equipment reached critical levels. Reed saw sparks beginning to arc between the various devices, and the electromagnetic field readings spiked beyond anything he thought possible.
For a brief moment, something impossible happened. The air in the center of Victor's geometric pattern seemed to tear open, revealing what looked like a glimpse into another dimension. Reed saw swirling mists, shadowy figures, and a landscape that belonged in a nightmare rather than reality.
Then the system exploded.
The blast threw Reed across the room, his ears ringing from the deafening noise. When the smoke cleared, he found Victor on the floor, his face bloodied and his equipment reduced to smoking wreckage. Most shocking of all, Victor's face bore a thin scar running from his left temple to his jaw—barely visible, but unmistakably present.
"My face," Victor whispered, touching the scar with trembling fingers. "My perfect face."
Within hours, campus security and the fire department had arrived. Victor's unauthorized experiments, conducted without university approval and in clear violation of safety regulations, resulted in his immediate expulsion from MIT. As paramedics checked him for injuries, Victor fixed Reed with a look of pure hatred.
"This is your fault," Victor hissed, his voice barely controlled. "Your warnings disrupted my concentration. Your presence corrupted the mystical matrix. You destroyed everything."
"Victor, I was trying to help—"
"You were trying to sabotage me," Victor interrupted, his green eyes blazing with paranoid fury. "You couldn't bear to see me succeed where your father failed. You couldn't accept that my research transcends your limited understanding."
Reed watched in dismay as Victor was escorted from the dormitory, his few remaining possessions packed hastily into boxes. Their month-long roommate arrangement was over, ended by an explosion that could have killed them both.
As maintenance crews cleaned up the destroyed equipment and repaired the damaged room, Reed reflected on the tragedy he had witnessed. Victor Von Doom had been brilliant, driven, and ultimately consumed by his own arrogance. Reed had tried to help, tried to warn him about the flawed calculations, but Victor's pride had prevented him from accepting assistance.
"Good riddance," Ben said when Reed told him what had happened. "Guy sounded like a complete nutcase."
But Reed felt only sadness for his former roommate. Victor had lost everything—his chance at an education, his research, and ultimately his sanity—all because he couldn't accept that collaboration might have prevented disaster.
Reed couldn't know that Victor Von Doom would spend the rest of his life blaming Reed Richards for the destruction of his face and his dreams, or that this moment would plant the seeds of a hatred that would span decades and threaten the entire world. For now, Reed was simply relieved to have survived his roommate's final experiment and grateful that the most dangerous person he had ever met was finally out of his life.
The housing office contacted Reed a few days later with an unusual proposal. Ben Grimm's roommate, a pre-med student named Steve Morrison, had been struggling academically and decided to transfer to a less demanding school. This left Ben without a roommate just as Reed needed new housing arrangements.
"It's perfect," the housing coordinator explained. "You two already know each other, and Mr. Grimm specifically requested you when he heard about the situation."
Reed felt a surge of gratitude toward Ben. His friend had not only offered him a way out of the housing crisis but had actually sought him out as a roommate. It was the kind of loyal gesture that Reed had rarely experienced in his life.
"You sure about this?" Reed asked Ben as they moved Reed's belongings into their shared room. "I'm not exactly the easiest person to live with. I study late, I talk to myself when I'm working on problems, and my experiments sometimes make weird noises."
Ben grinned, hefting Reed's box of books with ease. "After what you've told me about Victor Von Doom, you sound like the perfect roommate. Besides, weird noises from science experiments beat weird noises from mystical rituals any day."
The new living arrangement transformed Reed's college experience entirely. Ben was easy-going, considerate, and genuinely interested in Reed's work. When Reed stayed up late working on theoretical problems, Ben would quietly put on headphones. When Reed got excited about a breakthrough and started explaining complex physics at rapid speed, Ben would listen patiently and ask thoughtful questions.
"You know," Ben said one evening as Reed worked on propulsion calculations at his desk, "you keep talking about these spacecraft designs like they're just theoretical exercises. But what if they're not? What if we could actually build something like this?"
Reed looked up from his equations, surprised by the serious tone in Ben's voice. "You really think about it that way?"
"More and more lately," Ben admitted. "I mean, you're designing vehicles that could take people to Mars, maybe even further. That's not just theory—that's the future. And maybe I want to be part of that future."
For the first time since their reunion, Reed heard echoes of the Ben who had once dreamed about flying to the stars. The football scholarship was still important, he needed to maintain his performance to keep his spot in the university after all, but something deeper was stirring in his friend's mind.
The semester continued more smoothly after Victor's departure. Reed threw himself into his work with Professor Williams, making genuine breakthroughs in electromagnetic propulsion theory. His friendship with Ben deepened as they spent more time together, and Reed began to feel like he might actually belong at MIT after all.
But late at night, when the dormitory was quiet and Ben was asleep, Reed sometimes wondered what had become of Victor Von Doom. The young man who had been expelled in disgrace had possessed genuine brilliance beneath his arrogance and paranoia. Reed couldn't help but feel that, under different circumstances, they might have been allies rather than enemies.
He had no way of knowing that Victor was already planning his return to Latveria, determined to claim his rightful throne and exact revenge on everyone who had wronged him especially the American student who had "sabotaged" his life's work.
The foundation for one of the greatest rivalries in history had been laid in a small MIT dormitory room, built on misunderstanding, pride, and a brilliance that had been twisted into something dark and dangerous. Reed Richards had made his first real enemy, the man that would be recognized as his greatest, his Arch-enemy, though he wouldn't fully understand the consequences for many years to come.