An Arcane Alliance

I traversed the studded terrain of the display shelf toward the arched facade of the miniature sanctum. Rooted securely atop twin grey studs stood the Sorcerer Supreme, cloaked in his rigid red plastic mantle and frozen in silence. Doom recognizes strategic value, even within an unmoving vessel of molded polymer. Stepping forward, I gripped a translucent orange energy disk and slotted it firmly into his cupped hand, adjusting his arm to an exact forty-five-degree angle. 'Your mystic arts are hereby requisitioned for Latveria,' I declared into the quiet room. He offered no resistance to my directive; the alliance stands formed under my absolute terms.