Every family has demons, but none of them seem to scream as loudly as they do in the Stark family.
Tony Stark is known for many things; a father being one of them. Before he was Iron Man, before he was the CEO of Stark Industries, before he was...
i got those jet pack blues, just like judy the kind that makes june feel like september i'm the last one you'll ever remember jet pack blues ─── fall out boy
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malibu, california may 21, 2011
"Are you sure you want to do this, Miss?"
"Yes, I'm sure. I paid you the money, now do what you promised. Just open the thing, please," I'm trying to be polite, but I don't think I'm doing well.
The man sighs and yanks open the metal door before pulling the slab out. I straighten my shoulders and harden my face when the sheet-covered body is stretched out below me. The man purses his lips and moves to pull back the sheet, but I hold out a hand to stop him. Not looking at the surprised man, I simply shake my head. The man nods and then leaves me alone in the cold room. I breathe deeply for a long moment, unmoving. My hands begin to burn in their fireproof gloves and I grit my teeth, furiously. My brain isn't even processing what I'm doing when I yank the sheet back so that I can look at his face. His lids are closed tightly, there is a long, rugged slice down his face, and there is a small hole in his forehead.
Edgar.
"They're going to bury you soon," I speak lowly as if he can still hear me, "I don't know who in the world would come, but who knows? Maybe you have some other psycho friends out there," after swallowing, I continue, "Anyway, I wasn't really sure why I came here until I walked into the room. I think I wanted to just see your face and tell you what I wish I had said when you were alive. So, here goes. You cut me and tried to convince me to kill myself and then you experimented on me like some kind of lab rat. You were a monster, and, deep down in your twisted brain, I think you knew that you were. But what's worse than you being a monster is that you turned me into one too," my hands are trembling worse now, "I wish I had been the one that killed you," the burning is becoming unbearable, "because now neither of us won our war. You killed me. You were killed. And I was brought back," I grit my teeth from the pain, "Your handywork wiped clean and mine gone unfinished."
My work may have gone unfinished, but that doesn't mean I can't do something now. Oh, I want to hurt him. I want to hurt him more than I want anything. My aching fingers slowly begins to pull the glove off of my hand. A burning light radiates off of my palm as I slowly raise it. I inch it towards his face, just wanting him to know what I can do, just wanting to see the damage that I could do on the man who made me this way.
"Miss,"
I tear my hand away from his body and tuck it underneath the table.
