The Seventh Stone (Stony Marvel Story)

(Chapter 5)

He twirled the tie aimlessly around his neck.

Was the shirt too tight? Did the shoes shine enough? Do the pants have any remaining stains on them?

Sighing, he pulled a comb through his rundown hair. He was blading with fear. With what fear, he would share with no one. Maybe Jarvis, but extracting information from him was unfeasible.

The men on the TV in the back danced and twindled. They locked eyes before tossing bombs and letting one another erupt into flames of regret.

And he DID look nice. Almost a little too nice for a forgotten identity feast.

Both men laid dead on the floor, blood spilling from their eyes and mouths.

After straightening his mask, there was a light knock at the door. "Tony?" A girl's voice rang out. He closed his eyes. Tony knew that this was not the path. There was something shifted, something out of place. And rather than sitting in his lab for hours drinking tequila and attempting to solve the puzzle, he had to go out to a masquerade party and be the host he was meant to be.

"I'm coming Pepper," He sighed, letting the tie hang around his neck. "Good, because I don't want to be late, and I am NOT letting you sit out of this one."

If pain struck disasters, Tony would take the entire knife to the chest.

He opened the door to a very glittery looking Pepper. Her red hair was nicely done in an updo, and she wore just enough makeup for a natural but dainty glow. She was very pretty, no doubt on that. She greeted him with the largest smile, apprecating the fact that he actually took time on tonight's attire.

Tony would be hidden by the mask. There was no need to worry about identity.

He looked his best.

"Are you ready?" Pepper asked, linking arms with him. Tony stared straight ahead and nodded, "More than I'll ever be." The couple walked down the stairs, past flash paparazzi, and down into the limo.

No one found the dead men for hundreds of years. Upon discovery, the two skeletons were holding tightly onto each other. Both were too afraid to let go.

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He arrived to the party with his hands in sweaty fists. Dressed in advercity, straight from his head to his feet. He could not mess up this encounter again. For fortunite of luck, however, he wore a dark grey mask that shielded his appearance. He could blend away with the rest of the crowd, and no one would notice that he evanenced.

"C'mon Steeb," Sam laughed, grabbing him by the hand and yanking him out of the car. There was something lost in Steve's eyes that night. The flaw could not be concealed by a mask. It burned in bright letters on all the wrong places.

Steve adjusted his mask before walking into the ballroom and being greeted by a sea of uncertainty and formal attire alike. He reached out for Sam's comfort, but he was already gone, out mingling with pretty girls in pretty dresses.

Sam told Steve that's what he needed tonight. A pretty girl in a pretty dress.

He couldn't make it five steps.

Shurgging past unfamilar faces jumping on the dance floor, toasting to bosterious promises, discussing the night away, he was caught in the middle of nowhere. Steve had no idea where he was. Was this what parties were supposed to be like? Forgetting your memory just to hide in a mask?

An unguarded bartender handed Steve a drink, something made of red and wine.

His eyes darted around, from girls grinding on guys to alcohol turning the shapes of the room. Colors took their place, dancing around their memories. They were released, dumped into the hollow ground and stepped on.