Tony Stark

Tony Stark hadn’t worn a suit in years. No more battles. No more saving the world. Just wealth, silence, and that deep, gnawing emptiness he never admitted aloud.

One night, a private message lit up his screen: “Project HY-16. The first emotional hybrid. Auction: July 3rd. Location undisclosed.” He didn’t care what it was. He was bored.

The room was cold and black, thick with whispers and rich breath. When she was brought in, the room went dead silent.

A girl. Sixteen. Fragile-looking. Wrists chained, ankles too. A thin collar blinked red around her neck. Her eyes — god, those eyes — wide and glassy with terror, but deeper than anything he’d seen. Like someone had torn her soul out, piece by piece. She trembled. She tried not to cry. But the tears still came.

No one moved. No one spoke.

They whispered she was grown in pain — part human, part something else. Designed to obey, to feel everything, and still remain alive. Strong enough to kill, soft enough to break.

She looked around, her breathing sharp and panicked. She flinched at the lights. Like she knew what people did to things they thought couldn’t fight back.

Stark didn’t blink. Didn’t care. Emotions were useless. But still — something about her pulled him. Maybe the silence. Maybe the way she broke without sound.

“She’s scared,” someone muttered behind him. Tony exhaled slowly. “So?”

The bidding began. He raised his hand first.

And didn’t stop. She was a demon hybrid — small black horns hidden in messy dark hair, thin tail twitching nervously behind her. Two undergrown wings curved from her back, more fragile than fierce. Her skin was pale with a faint crimson hue, eyes wide, glowing amber-grey — full of fear, yet burning inside. She looked breakable, delicate… but something deep in her still felt dangerous. Like fire under glass.

…