capeandcowllogs | I'd cut off my tongue for a taste; of a piece of your flesh my darling

I'd cut off my tongue for a taste; of a piece of your flesh my darling

WHO: Tony Stark, Norman Osborn, Edward Nygma
WHERE: ~~Oscorp~~ RIDDLERCORP
WHEN: Super-Early Monday Morning (around 3 am)
WARNINGS: SINS BEING SINS and uh. Sins.
SUMMARY: Eddie captured Norman, and Tony being Lust wants a little revenge for all the things he's been hearing about. Hideousness ensues.
FORMAT: Paragraph

Lust was not always just a sexual craving, as much as his earlier displays had called for. Certainly, there was a lust for that sort, always, and it wouldn't do any good to deny it. There were, however, other things. There were always other things to lust after. Power, money, control, and revenge. Revenge.

Inhibitions, morality, it was lost to the wind. He didn't need it anymore, cast off the shell of his former self. He had experienced too many problems in doing the right thing, and who cared anymore? He was lust, beyond any formerly human needs like morality, the need to keep things under wraps. It didn't matter. Inhibitions were loosed, and Tony wanted, no needed to enact some sort of revenge.

That was what brought him to OsCorp late at night. He didn't fly in his suit, he walked, dressed to the nines in black, blending with the scenery around the building, before slipping in, gloves over his hands to prevent fingerprints. Even in this form, he would not allow himself to be caught by something so simple. The lobby had been altered, drastically, but that wasn't what Tony...no. Lust was after. He didn't need to bother with architecture or changing scenery. If his new brother wished to play castle, he wouldn't stop him.

Tony reached out, finding what was literally the only signature in the building. He confirmed with his own, natura ability with the Extremis (natrually being a loose term, of course) and then he made his way forward, fuzzing out cameras as he went, or simply setting them to loop before he came into view of them. He moved like a ghost in the building, before he found what he was looking for.

He inhaled, the satisfaction of being about to enact revenge filling him. Oh, he wouldn't kill him. Probably not even touch him. The point was to humiliate the man as much as possible. Hurt him in another way, remind him that he was not someone who would take Osborn's heavy-handed and slightly pathetic attempts at control lightly. He opened the door, and slid in, a soft clidk behind him when the door closed. Tony couldn't help the self-satisfied smirk on his face.

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Whatever Tony Stark was doing to the security made a difference on a technical level, but the footsteps alerted Norman ahead of time of an intruder. Another gift from the Goblin, one might say, but it didn't make much of a difference. His strength, his intelligence, nothing seemed to be helping against Nygma. An unacceptable turn of events, but right now all Norman could do was plan for later. Whatever it was that had turned Nygma wouldn't last forever.

No. No, it certainly wouldn't.

Who the footsteps belonged to was another story -- he would assume it was the Riddler, as Norman did not expect any visitors here, and didn't want any. He was chained to his own desk (his no matter how much Nygma claimed otherwise -- and the chains were superhuman strength), curled up with the pain of want. He tilted his head up when the door opened, sitting up on his arm. His gaze darkened considerably, eyebrows raising.

"Stark?"

Edited 2009-08-03 19:40 (UTC)

Tony's eyes fixed on the man, and all he could do was stare at him for one long moment. Oh, this was just precious! He was tempted to just leave right now, "Greed" was obviously doing a good enough job at humiliating the man, but really, that wasn't why he had come. If it had been just for that, he would have asked his brother if he could see his handiwork.

No, he lusted after something different tonight. He wanted, no, needed revenge. Although he had been freed of his human inhibitions like morality and grief, he remembered them. Every carefully laid plan, every action that he had taken, every single thing that he had done in the name of good had been dragged through the mud by this man. The insult alone was enough to send the sin side of him spiraling into a fury, but everything else? Well, he was even more willing to annoy his dear "brother" by playing with one of his toys.

Four eyes glowed as he started to walk around the room, not even bothering to give the man the courtesy of recognition. He only watched him, and still couldn't help but feel amused at the fact that Eddie had already done so much. This would be fun if he couldn't even fight back. He wouldn't do anything, yet. Let the man squirm a bit, as Tony prowled the room, his eyes locked on the man with disgust and amusement.

The look Tony gave him angered Norman more, but he bit back everything he'd just love to say to Stark but couldn't, certainly not if he was maintaining appearances. What he was doing here, though -- Norman felt wary already. Tony Stark wasn't the type to be making social calls up at OsCorp.

Then he noticed Stark's four eyes, and things became a little clearer. But that didn't make things any better. He sat up all the way, kicking the empty dog bowl he was expected to eat out of (not that it'd been filled, and Norman would prefer starving to actually complying with that expectation) out of the way, looking at Stark flatly.

"Don't ignore me, Stark. What do you think you're doing here?" As if nothing was different. This situation was precarious; as much as Norman would never say so, he was at a severe disadvantage here, the last thing he could ever allow against Tony Stark.

When that met with no reply, he repeated his question sharply. Then -- "Look, Stark. I know you and I have our differences, and let's just say I don't like you any better than you like me. But I also know that still, somehow, you fancy yourself to actually be a hero. And in that case I think it's definitely in your best interest to let me go. Talk to Nygma. Whatever. Just do it. I'll leave you alone in the press, Stark." He glowered, jaw clenching and hands twitching with the need to throttle. "No mention in any interviews, that's a promise."

He waited. He watched Stark watch him, likely taking in the scene with pleasure. Norman wasn't surprised.

If he had been in his right mind, it would be a tempting offer. Of course, if he wasn't like this, he wouldn't have bothered to come here, Edward would have most likely been nanited and returned to the Avengers Mansion before this little "hostile takeover", and none of this would have occurred. Instead, up was down, down was sideways, and Tony Stark wasn't just Tony Stark anymore. No, he was more, he was better, and not just in the sense that the Extremis had granted him.

Instead, Tony just looked down at him, his lip curling in disgust at the plea for freedom, and then he just laughed softly, his voice echoing in the silence of the room. "You really must be desperate," he said, and then he continued his journey around the room, eying the office with the glance of a professional, but no comments were made on the decor.

Edward had gone all out on the dish. He wondered if his brother would even bring dog food to feed the man, although he doubted Norman would eat it.

"I wonder if you would hold to that one, since the last time I trusted you with something, it looks like it bit me in the ass, don't you think?" he questioned, the wave of fury rising, before his natural aspect quashed it, and beat it down. There was no place for wrath here. He wouldn't touch the man, wouldn't even bother soiling his hands.

"No, I think I'll let my brother keep you, actually. I have no need for you, and he's so proud of himself. You would think that he were our sister," he laughed. "You think too highly of yourself if you think I would be the one to let you go, just because of a few morals," he chuckled.

"Who said anything about desperation?" Norman snapped, jerking the chains that held him to the desk. It was easy to move even in spite of it, Norman could drag the desk around the room if he chose. But really, where was the point in that? He didn't even bother.

"I don't know what exactly you and Nygma are thinking to accomplish, but if you plan on getting away with this, be reassured that's the last thing that's going to happen." The office had been completely remade over in the Riddler's imagine, a fact which would go uncommented on by Norman. He was focused on bigger things.

"You keep getting yourself in deeper and deeper, Stark. After the crap you pulled with Nygma -- by the way, I really would have thought you'd know better, considering how that ended up working out for me -- and now this? You'll be lucky if people just ignore you when they pass you on the street, rather than chasing you out of the city. You're losing their trust." And he smirked, now. "And really, you had none of that to spare to begin with."

He tapped his fingers on his knee. Thinking. If anything got him out of this it would be his mind, because his strength was doing no good against them like this. He'd heard so many interesting things from Nygma already (interesting meaning awfully telling, that was), it wouldn't be impossible to get such information from Stark, as well. He could tell the man was angry, if only for a moment.

"Your brother, hm? Hah! Well be sure to tell him I could use a back-rub." He sneered. "But you've made your decision, Stark. Don't think I'll forget it. Nygma can't do anything to me I haven't already had in spades, but you won't be able to recover from what I'm going to do when I get out of here."

Tony's eyes flashed, the glow intensifying for the briefest moment, lips curling back into a snarl, before he clamped down on his own fury, it was back to a simmer. Worms like this were below his notice normally. The only reason he was bothering was for closure. He was no longer a weak human, and he was leaving that life behind for a greater one.

"Do you really think you can escape?" he laughed, finally finishing his movement through the room to stop, turn, and stare at Osborn, his eyes boring into the man's skull. "I'm surprised you haven't even bothered to ask which one I am," he laughed, waving a hand dismissively. "You always did underestimate your opponents, hence why Oscorp had so many problems," a sneer crossed his lips, and he shook his head.

"No matter, you'll find out soon enough," he stated, both of his palms flattening to the desk. "After all, Greed is something you know quite well, I'm sure," he added loftily, looking down at him imperiously, before the smirk curled up his lip.

"Me? I'm much different."

"Oh no, I don't plan on escaping. You will let me out. You or Nygma." Norman's voice was as cold and commanding as he could manage under the circumstances. "And you had better be quick. I'm not joking, Stark. I will crucify you in the press if you do not let me go right now."

He was yelling without having noticed he'd started, but that didn't bother him really. Since when did it ever? The desk moved when he gestured violently with his arm. "And I could care less which 'one' you are." He spat, though saying it reminded him of Nygma reinforcing the greed in him, to painful, torturous extremes. He regarded Stark warily, raising one eyebrow.

He removed his hands fastidiously when the desk moved, flashing a wide, pleased grin. Oh, this was too easy. His brother had already influenced Osborn, filling him with Greed, but his other brother, Gluttony would always say there is room for more.

"You should," he said simply, before leaning forward. That was all he said, but that wasn't all he did. He reached out with his extra sense, reaching into that disgusting filth that was Osborn, feeling what the man wanted, desired more than anything else.

He intensified that, the Edward's hold was very strong, and understandably so, but he wasn't going to remove, or overwrite that. No, he was going to add to it with his own touch, lust for blood, violence, sex, whatever only intensifying what had already crippled the man.

"I w--" Was all he had time to get out, before another powerful sensation was washing over him and making him double over to his knees with the urge to vomit. He was overloaded and had no way of acting on his greed-given urges, and even less this new wash of need. Faces popped into his mind, desires, everything he was working for and so close to achieving.

"No--" He hissed, laying there in a pained heap, unable to move save for his frantic breathing. "STARK. ENOUGH. You will stop this right now."

There was the briefest moment where Tony only watched, reveling in the sensation, the destruction and perversion of everything that the man wanted. He laughed softly, and leaned over the desk to look at the man.

"I will? What grounds do you have to make any demands?" he questioned, twisting his influence like a knife to the man's gut, intensifying it. The red-hot passion burned like a fire, and he made sure it went from a low simmer to a raging inferno in the man, coupled with his brother's greed.

With Tony, Norman lost the capability of speech much faster. It wasn't that he was going harder on Norman than Edward had, but it was just the magnitude of the passion he was imbuing in Norman all at once. Probably to make up for lost time. Norman screamed, screamed, clawing his nails into the carpet, gripping it for dear life. Every attempt at sitting up brought more pain upon him.

He managed to shoot Stark a glare, the most hate-filled he could manage, face flushed and sweaty. There was nothing here to satisfy any of these cravings, no other people except Stark -- it was like Hell, but worse. He curled away from the man, chest heaving with pained, needy breath.

"Get. Away. From. My. PROPERTY!"

The door to his--his, damn it--office played herald to this growl of a command as it slammed against a wall. Edward stormed into the room. Glowering. Infuriated. Pretty damned pissed. His crimson gaze locked on his dearly beloved brother, not a whit of mercy etched into his irate features.

"What do you think you're doing! You knew he is mine. You know I don't share. How dare you? You--oh--oh no--You've got your influence inside of him." Greed incarnate curled his fists in fury. "I just cleaned him!"

Tony had been enjoying this. There was something satisfying about watching the man want, need something, anything. He managed to release a soft laugh. Him. It was ironic, in a way, with the way the man desperately hated him, clinging onto that, and he had been enjoying himself, dammit.

Well, then Eddie showed up.

"Brother, what are you doing here?" he questioned, his teeth flashing as they spread into a grin. "I just came to have a bit of fun," he added, turning his back to Norman as he faced his brother.

"I wasn't going to leave it there," he muttered insolently, lazily leaning against the desk and crossing his arms.

Oh.

Wonderful.

Norman heard and felt Edward return, heard the shouts which pierced his brain painfully. He curled, turning from the sounds and the men. No, no, no, NOW what? Things were bad enough with only one, but the two of them together was the last thing Norman felt up to. Even if he hadn't been chained to the desk Norman doubted he'd be able to stand, from pain.

Of course, ironically enough, Nygma was almost worse than Stark. When he talked, that was. Norman bared his teeth, rage filling his already emotionally full mind, legs curled to his chest to try and ebb away the greed. The lust. Ignore the feelings and ignore both men, who seemed to be doing a good job of that themselves. Talking about him as if he wasn't there.

"Get him out." Norman growled, the words not coming out quite the order he meant for them to. Which him he meant wasn't clear either.

"What am I doing here?" Edward exploded. "This is my castle. I didn't not just make my minions repaint the lobby to be treated as a stranger in my own damn home!" Oh, oh this was agitating. And of course his dear brother just took it in impassive stride. Well. Perhaps Edward should have interrupted Stark's little orgy, perhaps infused the victims with a desire to attain some clothing, perhaps then his good brother would be able to comprehend the magnitude of this insult, and--

Why was the property speaking?

"Shut up." Edward ordered Osborn, index finger pointed at the fallen man. "You are nothing more than a thing to own. To possesses. To claim. I didn't claim you for your aggravating ability to talk so do shut up." And to prove the gravity of his command, Edward ignited a devastating want for lint within Osborn. For all the lint in the room. Norman would call claim as the King of Lint.

"Pathetic."

Edited 2009-08-06 08:11 (UTC)

Tony felt his brother's influence, and he laughed. Then he laughed some more, before waving a hand dismissively, rising the lust in the man even more. Lust for the lint, to have it, do whatever with it, but he had to want it badly. Even more so than the greed.

"I noticed that you started a castle, but really, not even inviting your family over for dinner?" he quipped, glowing eyes narrowing a small amount as he stared directly at Eddie. "Maybe all this social-call is, happens to be a cry for attention," he said, eyes tilting just slightly in amusement.

"Or maybe a remnant of my past just wants what is due to him, I need it, brother," he growled. The need for revenge boiled within him. He didn't need it all for himself, just a taste, a small amount to sustain him, and then he'd leave his brother and his new toy be. He wasn't the greedy one.

Again Norman felt like vomiting. It was too strong a feeling for him to risk speaking so instead he filed away everything the Riddler said to him for later, when he could properly pay him back for them. Both of them, for the gall to think they could actually get away with playing around with him.

Norman's hands clenched into the carpet again, clawing, and he put his palm over his mouth until the nausea passed. He was eying the room now, the carpet, his clothes, Stark's, Nygma's. Norman forced himself to sit up, legs curled and picking the lint of his sleeves obsessively, almost not noticing the nature of the new desire forced upon him. He actively worked on ignoring the other two, though his eyes narrowed in either direction when they spoke. Tony Stark wanted revenge on him? Hilarious. It was ironic how the man could deny responsibility for the things that had occurred after his time, yet saw fit to dispense payback on Norman for selfsame kinds of things.

Hypocrite.

This was getting tedious.

His brother was still snug in his castle, and just basking in the wreckage he had inspired. How very aggravating. Striding close, Edward scowled at the other embodied sin, stopping just before his sibling's shoes.

"Enough of this," said Greed. He didn't even spare a look towards Osborn. Why was there need to? His influence was felt. Absorbed. Known.

"Enough. Get out of my house. You know I do not like sharing. You know what sin I am."

Tony just looked impassively at his brother. Thankfully, they were at the same height, but through a heavy-lidded gaze, he just smirked in return, waving a hand dismissively. "And you are fully aware which sin I am," he mentioned in reply. "Besides, don't you remember how fun it was when we worked together?" he questioned, his voice heavy.

Lusty in the sexual sense wasn't the word for it. Power. He was craving it, wanting it, not forever, no. He didn't need to horde it. He needed it to use, and his influence would spread across the world.

Sadly, this was not just the sin talking. Deep in Tony, deep down where he wouldn't admit it, there was this want. He wanted the power to save the world, to control it. Well, Lust also wanted to control it, but he also wanted to cause chaos in it. He may be just slightly fickle.

Norman scooted himself as close to the desk as he could, legs folded underneath him and a steadily growing pile of lint beside him. He'd moved from his sleeves to his coat, his pants, scanning the carpet idly for more. But he listened to them, despite ignoring them to the best of his ability -- though he continued gazing darkly up at both, forcing his arms to cross and ignore the carpet.

He wanted them out, and for more reason than one by now. Their impertinence and this humiliation was one thing, that was for sure -- but there was a slight nagging worry that Edward would be swayed by Tony's notion to 'work together'. Whatever that meant. Norman refused to give either man the pleasure of crumbling under the power of both of their influences.

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I'd cut off my tongue for a taste; of a piece of your flesh my darling

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