The hours pass. Afternoon becomes evening.
Again, this'd be a great place for Peter to recall the Dance of the Hours sequence from Fantasia... But again, Walt Disney hasn't been born yet, and once he is, he'll age forty years before Fantasia's grand opening.
Ironically though, that's exactly what's playing at the ball Morgan's dancing at. Fantasia might not exist...but at least Dance of the Hours does, long before Disney will see their chance to canonize it in the shape of a memorable short film, with ostrich, hippo, elephant and crocodile ballet dancers...
To Morgan, it seems like guest crowds at the local balls have gotten smaller as more and more New York natives decide to settle west. She can't imagine why they'd want to; it's so dangerous out there. Aunt May would probably know that by now. Peter can't even begin to imagine the hazards that must be torturing her out there as he crawls around up here in high society, stalking Mr. Stark's little girl...
Peter wouldn't know, of course. He's just up here for the hooters-Morgan's hooters, specifically.
Morgan dances with John, during the part in Dance of the Hours when, in Fantasia, the elephant ballet dancers would dance; the "evening part" as the movie would've described it. Peter almost wishes Morgan could dance with him instead...but then he wouldn't get to stalk her like he is, so that's that.
The number ends. All applaud the band.
Norma Osborn arrives. Her hair's in a brown bob. Around her neck, she wears a silver necklace/torc with a jade pendant. Anyone who knows her knows she's bad news...and not just sexually.
I'd like to say that Norma is to Morgan as Blair Waldorf is to Serena van der Woodsen. Alas, Gossip Girl won't air for another fourteen decades.
Morgan sits alone. Or rather, she FEELS alone. In reality, Peter couldn't be having more fun staring up her skirt. He's the crab Morgan doesn't know she has.
It's a vast cave up in Morgan's skirt; better than Lechuguilla, if one asks Peter. Her garters run like rope ladders up the cliffs of her thighs...
Through Lechuguilla's great opening, Peter sees Norma's legs, as she sits across the table from Morgan. Peter sure wishes he could see more of them...
Norma flaps her bob, and irritates Morgan. She reminds Morgan that Ironheart's been doing more than a great job over on the West Coast ever since Hawkeye and Mockingbird recruited her. A lot of folks over in the western states are praising her. They think she might actually be better than Iron Man was when he was alive.
Morgan doesn't cherish this at all. She secretly believes the Avengers deliberately chose someone else to succeed her father as Iron Man to irritate her.
She's so irritated, she reaches her fingers down into her skirt, and scratches her pussy...as Parker's climbing its covering. Her fingers nearly suffocate her. He quickly shoots a web, and swings over onto her garter. He should've seen this coming; then again, he should've had more romantic conversations with Morgan before Mystria and She-Vulture tried to kill him.
A boy comes over, and asks Norma to dance. She feigns a smile, and accepts. She gives Morgan a rude look, and tells her to have fun "watching Iron Men fly by." With that, she rises and attends the dance floor with the boy.
The hours pass. Evening becomes night.
It's a stormy night over the Atlantic. The wind howls, the rain pours, and lightning flashes everywhere.
Through it all, Iron Man flies. She's fast. She seems to deflect the rain as she goes along. And even though she's got a lot of electronic tech in that suit, she avoids the lightning easily.
Inside her helmet, she picks something up on her radar. A bogey approaches her from behind.
Behind, the lightning flashes more. The bogey chases her, swings its hammer, and absorbs the lightning's heat and electricity with it.
It's Ragnarok 701, an android. He may be just a practice dummy, but he's got power that might or might not have made his cyborg predecessor envious.
Ragnarok chases Iron Man. They're about an even match for each other.
Ragnarok swings his hammer, and throws it. Iron Man sees it coming, and misses it. It comes back. She swerves, and misses it again.
Once again, Ragnarok absorbs more lightning with its hammer. With its other fist, it causes a bolt of lightning to hit, and torture, Iron Man while she's in mid-flight.
Alas, the suit has merely gotten a power upgrade. Iron Man takes this opportunity, spins around, and gives Ragnarok all the power in her chest blaster. Ragnarok gets hit, and starts falling. It looks like Iron Man's won.
Triumphant, FRIDAY plots a course back to Avengers HQ for Iron Man. She heeds it, and heads back.
Alas, Ragnarok broadsides her from below. They grapple. Ragnarok's got the high ground...if not the advantage. But Iron Man's a genius; she'll surely figure something out.
At a higher altitude, Ragnarok starts icing up. Iron Man waits until it becomes a problem, and shoots Ragnarok in the head, decapitating him.
Ragnarok plummets. Victorious at last, Iron Man heads back to Avengers HQ.
She's received by Ms. Potts, Mr. Hogan, Peter Parker, and Jane Thor Foster. She lands, and takes a bow.
Ms. Potts is crying happily. Mr. Hogan's grinning proudly.
She'll never forget the look on Peter's face. At long last, she's turned his head. She didn't think she ever would. He always turns away whenever she looks at him...
"That was impressive," Jane admits, flapping her long Norse blonde hair. "Although I don't know how I'd feel about getting decapitated in real life."
Iron Man's helmet disappears. Hers is the face of Galina Nemirovsky...NOT Morgan Stark.
"I'm a mechanic," she says, in a soothing Slavic accent. "I can whip him up a new head in no time!"
Morgan wakes, and screams in rage. She hates it that the Avengers chose someone else to be Iron Man instead of her...and some Russian slut, at that...
Peter didn't see any of this, of course. But damn if he sure would've liked to know that at least he was in her dream...
Inside her covers, it's like a dark swamp in a season hotter than summer. And yet, Peter would rather be in here than on a tropical island with Liz Allan...
Morgan can't stand it, of course. Despite this, she's back to sleep in no time.
"Galina Nemirovsky," she grumbles before drifting off. "With some luck, she'll get shot down in air-to-air combat so soon, Dad will make her look like the satellite-launching amateur she is..."
Throughout the night, she snores in her bed. A bed bug's biting...even if it's just one. And at that, Peter's sure glad Blade's not down here with him. Blade loves to skin and roast his vampires like no one Peter's ever met...or hopes to meet. But then, it's a good thing Peter has no interest in Morgan's blood... Blade will just have to find an actual vampire to hunt.
Morgan's bed is so comfy. Peter wonders why his Aunt May can't make a bed like hers...
But is that her bed Peter's sleeping on? It's so soft. It's alarming how Morgan's cleavage is so soft, he can't always tell it from the bedding. He sure wishes Mr. Stark would've told him more about how bed with his wife felt when he was alive...
Peter hears the door open. He starts to hide-until he remembers how dark it is in here.
He can't see, but he's sure it's Ms. Potts. She leaves almost the instant she comes. Peter knows Morgan's beauty. He can't think of many other people who'd just crack the door and leave.
And now Peter's thinking about Morgan again. If only Morgan could raise herself...
But then, what's the worse that could happen if Peter started stalking Ms. Potts anyway? It's not like she's married...anymore..