Evelyn Stowe. He loved her. Every time he closed his eyes, are beautiful face was all he could see. She dominated his thoughts, fed his most primal of urges, she was the light that gave his life meaning. So devoted was he to Evelyn, that he knew everything about her. Her job, her family, where she grew up, the restaurants she liked to eat in, the shops she bought her clothes from. He had her daily timetable worked out down to the minute. She had never met him, she didn't know that he existed, but he loved her. He loved her just like he loved all the others before her.
He walked around now, in her bedroom, like he lived here. He sat on her bed, and ran his hands along her sheets. He closed his eyes, and imagined being welcomed in here willingly, as a lover. That of course would not happen, he was a monster. His hulking, unnatural form disgusted them all. But they did not understand that he was a work of art, he was special and he was unique, and he would make her love him. He would make her love him like he had made all the others love him. They were his now.
His massive hand gripped onto the top drawer of the bedside table. He slid it open, and between two of his stubby fingers lifted up a pair of Evelyn's delicate undergarments. He rubbed them in his face, taking in her scent, letting out an obscene moan of ecstacy. I love you Evelyn Stowe, he thought to himself, I love you so much.
He loved her so much, that he had chosen her. She would be due home from work in a few hours. She would come home, kick off her shoes, walk upstairs, turn on the television here in the bedroom, go for a shower, return into the room naked (yes, YES!) and then open her walk-in wardrobe to retrieve a change of clothes. This is what she always did. Tonight would be the last time she would ever do it, because tonight, he would be waiting for her. A few hours was nothing, he would wait right here, in this room. He loved Evelyn Stowe. And soon, she would be his...
...
22 Days Dry
Normally I would have no complaints about having a shapely lady's thighs wrapped around my head, but this situation is quite different.
"Here lies the great Tony Stark," whispers Madame Masque, presing her gun against the side of my head,
"Beaten, helpless. I think I'll kill you right now."
Oooookay, perhaps I should explain...
About 1 Hour Ago
*EMERGENCY! THE STARK INDUSTRIES RESEARCH CENTRE IN NEW ORLEANS IS UNDER ATTACK!*
"Oh my God! We have a research centre in New Orleans?"
Heeding the warning from my home security system, I suited up and headed for New Orleans. I made a stealthy entrance - crashing through the roof - to find the scientists that worked there being held hostage. The hostiles were about half a dozen masked heavies, carrying high-tech weaponry by the looks of it, and a woman with a small handgun, wearing a gold mask. She appeared to be the leader.
"If you wanted the guided tour of the place, you should have called my secretary."
"Mr. Stark, so good of you to arrive. My name is Madame Masque. I've been waiting for you."
The voice was filtered through some system built into the mask, making it project out automated, any human inflection or accent obliterated. It made her cold, glacial. Kinda sexy, too.
"I do hate to keep a lady waiting..."
As I talked to Masque, my automatic targeting system had locked onto all her henchmen, and now I fired sleeping darts into all of them, knocking them out almost instantly.
"...so why don't you tell me why you came here? Who sent you?"
Madame Masque did not appear intimidated by the fact that it was just me and her now. That should have set the alarm bells ringing, but I was thinking with the wrong head at this point, methinks.
"I sent myself. When I heard that the man behind the Iron Man was TONY STARK....oh! I just had to see it for myself, up-close. I had to see just how good you were at playing superhero."
"Well, honey, curiousity's going to cost you dear. You broke into a secure facility, took these innocent people hostage. I'm pretty sure that's a jail term, so I hope I lived up to your expectations."
The only thing visible behind the golden mask was her eyes, and now they narrowed with a mischievous glint. With a flick of her hand, she produced a small trigger. Before I could react, she pressed it...and nothing happened. But then my armor froze, turning into scrap metal in an instant, and I fell to the ground hard, trapped in a mass of dead weight. Oh crap, an electromagnetic pulse! Why wasn't I prepared for this!?
"No, you've fallen considerably short of them, I'm afraid."
At a leisurely pace, she strolled over to me as I lay there, immobile on the floor. She stood over me, one leg positioned at either side of my head, looking down. I have to admit, in spite of my dire situation, it was quite a few. Then she kneeled down, straddling my head, and pulled off my helmet, tossing it aside like it was nothing.
"Mmmmmmm, so it is you in there after all, Tony."
Teasingly, Masque ran a hand through my hair. I could barely lift my arm off the ground, never mind throw her off. But just as I started to struggle, the gun pressed against my cheek.
"Here lies the great Tony Stark," whispers Madame Masque, presing her gun against the side of my head,
"Beaten, helpless. I think I'll kill you right now."
And.... I think that brings us up to date.
"Well if you're going to kill me, at least take off the mask....let me see a pretty face before I go off to the next world."
Masque tilts her head, and I hear faint laughter underneath the mask.
"On second thoughts.... I think I'll let you live, and puzzle over why I chose not to kill you. I'll be seeing you, Tony Stark."
With that, Madame Masque dismounts me and, taking her sweet time, makes her way out of the research centre, leaving me lying there on the floor. My head cranes round as far as it can to see her make her exit. After about a minute, my back-up system kicks in and the suit comes alive again. I can move again, and I immediately rush to the exit. But she's long gone. Returning to the lab, I untie the scientists.
"What did she steal?", I ask.
"Nothing," replies one of the scientists, "She didn't ask for anything. Just tied us up and said we were waiting for you."
So this woman goes to all the effort of breaking into one of my labs, just to get the chance to humiliate me? A masked master criminal, with access to advanced, high-tech weaponry, and an unhealthy obsession with me?
"I think I'm in love..."
...
She was home! Oh, he had been waiting so long for this! The time had come, now she would be his. He would have his love. He stood there, massive, barely fitting inside the wardrobe, watching her enter the bedroom through the narrow slits in the wardrobe door. She had already kicked off her shoes, padding around her home in her stockingfeet. Oh, how sexy she looked, dressed like the successful city lawyer that she was. That's what attracted him to her, even more than her beautty. The sweet smell of success, of power, of a woman in control of her life. She turned on the television. The news was on. And then she disappeared into the bathroom. The shower turned on. Oh God! It felt like an eternity, standing in that cramped little space, listening to the water running, imaging it running over her lithe naked body. Oh, he loved her, he loved her, he loved her.
Then the water stopped running. His breath was heavy, raw and panting. He struggled to keep it in check, not wanting to give himself away too soon. He didn't want to intrude, to spoil the pure beauty of this moment. YES! She strode back into the bedroom, naked. Oh, he looked just how he had fantasized she would, even better in person than through hidden camera footage. I love you Evelyn Stowe, he thought, you are beautiful, you are a princess, and I love you so much. I love you so much, that I am now going to take everything away from you. All that you are, will now belong to me.
Humming to herself, Evelyn walked across the room, and opened the wardrobe door. Then she screamed, and screamed, and screamed. Enormous arms lunged out of the wardrobe and gripped her comparitively tiny frame, forcing her to the floor. Inhuman, guttural moans came from his throat as he rubbed his rough, metallic hands across her body, feeling nothing, but imagining he could. Still she screamed, but no one would hear her. He turned her round onto her stomach, and pinned her onto the floor, naked and writing.
Now she would belong to him. He loved her, and she would belong to him. He drew his gun out from his holster, pressed it against the back of her neck. He inserted the disk, and immediately, the screaming stopped. She ceased her struggling, and lay still. He let out a long, deep sigh of elation, eyes rolling up in his head. This was ecstacy, sweet release. He lay himself down on the ground next to her, and looked into her blank eyes. He held her hand in his, and relished in the delicious sensations washing over him.
Power.
Dominance.
Love.
"Control."