Wealth Is Power! (Marvel Comics)

I wiped at the sweat on my forehead with the back of my hand, my wife-beater damp and sticking to my chest. There was a faint vibration of the Iron Monger suit shutting down in the basement. Every inch of this vast expanse of reinforced concrete was designed to withstand the power of this hulking monster of metal. The training area was a mess of scorch marks, twisted steel beams, and craters from my tests; this was where I honed my craft in silence and without judgment.

I leaned against the suit, my breath heavy, gazing up at it. Iron Monger, a beast; no doubt of that. Yet it was a beast that had to evolve. It was brutally manual—klutzy. Every movement depended on my input, and it lacked the finesse I craved.

My mind started to wander, thinking of Stark's Jarvis. Now that was a marvel of technology: an AI that ran circles around any human mind, loyal to its creator only. If I had something like that-no, something better-the possibilities were endless. It wouldn't just make the suit more efficient, but it would clean up my past too.

I rubbed my jaw, pacing. "A fucking AI," I muttered under my breath. "But not just any AI. One Stark wishes he had—something untouchable. No back doors, no override switches, no convenient hacks. And loyal to me. Only me."

The answer had always been the Wealth System. That golden goose of power and potential had done so much already, and I knew it would deliver precisely what I needed: an incorruptible digital ally wiping clean every last vestige of Wolfgang von Lundt's Nazi past, leaving unblemished Simon Steele, the ambitious, powerful man of the future. I wasn't that man. Not anymore. Something better.

My stream of thought ended with a gentle knock on the glass from the observation window. I turned around to see Elena standing there; her silhouette had been framed within the harsh fluorescence of the corridor beyond. It was one of her sleek dresses, black, form-fitting, elegant and casual. And on her face, that hint of knowing, reverent, and muted conceit.

"Dinner's ready," she announced, her voice was muffled but was still cutting enough even through the cool machinery.

I gestured at her without fully facing her. "I'll be there in a minute."

"Don't keep me waiting, Uncle," she taunted with a little bit of a playful edge that got my blood running.

I was looking back at the suit, whispering, "Dinner. Right. Like I can even think about food with all this shit in my head."

I went to the control panel and clicked the buttons a few times to check that the Iron Monger was completely drained. The last thing I wanted was for there to be a catastrophic failure when I was alone during the night. The suit complained and whined as it eased into its resting place, where it began to light up with weak, soft embers.

"Alright, big guy," I was patting the cold metal as I said this. "We'll figure this out. You're gonna be a masterpiece when I'm done with you."

I took a towel from the stand next to the console, mopping my face and arms before turning toward the exit. In the shine of the polished steel, my reflection appeared there—a sharp-featured handsome man, with blue-gray eyes that had seen too much and given too little back, a jawline that was enviable with hints of a disconnected goatee forming if I did not shave. My hair was a bit tousled, wet with sweat.

"Simon Steele," I whispered to my reflection."You're not Wolfgang anymore. And soon, no one will ever know he existed."

I got a wicked fulfillment, the kind of fulfillment that left you full.

I stepped out of the training spot and onto the corridor. My stepdaughter was at the end, leaning into the wall in a casual way. She tilted her head.1

"Finally," she began, pushing herself off the wall, walking at my side as we headed upstairs. "You spend more time down there than with your own family."

"Family," I repeated, the corner of my lips curling. "What's left of it, anyway."

She gave an eye roll. "Don't be so dramatic. I'm here, aren't I?"

"You are," I was soft spoken now, "And that's enough."

Her eyes met mine and a small blush appeared on her face. She had looked away covering it with a laugh. "Careful, Uncle. You'll make me think you're going soft."

I chuckled, the darkness voice undeniable. "Never soft, Elena. Never."

We entered the dining room, an opulent area with one long table already set. The smell of roasted meat and heavy sauces wafted through the air. My stomach rumbled, reminding me I was, after all, still human. For now.

"Sit," I said, nodding toward her favorite chair as I sat at the head of the table. "Let's eat. We've got a lot to discuss."

She raised an eyebrow but didn't argue, sitting down across from me.

I reached for a glass of wine, swirling it as I studied her features. "Tell me, Elena. What do you think of power?"

She had a sly smile on her face. "It's everything. Isn't it?"

My glass was raised. "Damn right."

There was the clinking of glasses and a moment of silence as we both sipped our drinks. The wine was fine, but my eyes never left hers. She had her mother's cheekbones: sharp, well-defined, but her eyes-they were mine. I could see the hunger in them-not hunger, though; that was just not enough, that was a craving for power. It was the same look I saw in the mirror every day.

"You know, Elena, I've always seen something in you," I started, placing my glass down gently. "A spark, a potential. And I've done my best to nurture it. To turn you into the kind of woman who can handle this kind of life."

Elena had rested her full weight in the chair, "And what kind of life is that, Uncle?" There was a challenge in her tone.

My voice had become a whisper. "The kind of life where you can have anything you want. Power, money, respect—it's all yours for the taking. And all I ask in return is for you to be by my side. In every way that counts."

Elena's widening eyes said it in fractions, the wheels in her head turning. She understood what I meant and even liked it. The hunger in her eyes became sharpened towards me, like a predator's scenting prey.

"What do you mean, Uncle? Explain further," her tone, a dance between innocence and intrigue.

I leaned back in my chair and studied her. "Why, Elena, don't you see?" I said, my voice silky. "You've been living in this world, watching the powers I wield, and it's your turn now to be a part of the powers I wield. Time to take your place in every way that's mine."

She held my look for a beat too long, until it felt uncomfortably intimate, and then she broke it off to take a slow, deliberate sip of her wine. "I've always admired you, Uncle Simon," she said as she set the glass down with a soft clink. "You're one tough, brilliant champ, and you always get what you want. That's just plain… intoxicating."

I smirked and nodded. "It's a heady thing, power is."

Elena glanced down at the plate again, her cheeks coloring deeper this time. "It's imaginative," she said, busying herself with her silverware.

The air in the room already turned dense, as if charged with some other sort of electricity never there. I knew she felt it too. It was time to make my move.

I laid aside the napkin and stood up worthily, extending a hand to her. She took it, firm and eager as I led her from the dining room, down the hall, and to the door of my private quarters. The heavy door swung shut behind us, shutting off the outside world, and leaving us in refuge of my lair.

A pulse was racing in the hollow of her throat, a delicate tremble.

"So beautiful," I murmured, pulling her close to me, my hand sliding around her waist. All curves—her DD tits pressed into my chest—a handful, her plump ass, that I couldn't wait to squeeze.

"Thanks," she whispered, the sound a little unsteady. She was trying to act coy, but again, the fire was burning in her eyes.

I brought my hand up to cup her cheek and spoke, this time through a growl in my chest that dropped my voice into a sound of seduction, "But you are so much more than that, Elena. You're mine."

She nodded breathlessly. "I know, Uncle."

I felt that heat that had been building between the two of us, that intense pull, since the moment I walked into the mansion. There was an unbearable level of push, as I dropped my head and kissed her mouth, never gentle. She melted into me, her body warping into mine as she ceded it, in what seemed like a total surrender to the passion which she apparently had been denying for so long.

Mapping her body, my hands defined the line of her hips, the curve of her waist, the swell of her breasts, tightness of her ass. Her skin was feverishly hot and smooth, her frame giving under my touch at every place. I knew, from Simon's memories, that she was a virgin; yet, she was no stranger to desire.

"Take me," she breathed against my lips. "Make me yours."

I did. I took her to the bed and dumped her onto the mattress. Growling softly, possessive, she lay wide and her legs gave. Sweet and pink, plump, virginity lay in its first view—so inviting.

My cock got tough, thick, and heavy in my pants, aching for freedom. My hand worked at unbuckling my belt gracefully even as I still held her stationary with my other hand as I began to pull her dress up over her thighs. "You're gonna scream for me, Elena," I muttered lustfully.

All she did was whimper in reply as I laid kisses down her body, tasting her like I had been a thing desperate, a morsel. Her nipples hardened to hard points, little pebbles willing my mouth. I took one between my teeth and pulled, teasing; she gasped.

Her hips jerked up off the bed as I kissed my way down to her pussy, the scent of the girl's arousal hitting me—driving me wild. Her inner thighs seemed wet and glinting with what she wanted.

"Oh god," she whimpered.

"You are going to get everything you've ever wanted," I promised, my mouth hovering above her entrance. "But first, I am going to fuck you so hard tomorrow you will not even be able to walk straight."

I pushed hard into her with the force that my passion and desire possessed to overcome her maidenly resistance, and she was screaming out for a bit of release, nails gouging through the skin at the back. This is all me now. So tight. Holy hell and heaven.

I pulled back, smacking into her, watching as pleasure and pain etched together with each smacking on her face. "You're mine," I said again, the words more a declaration of ownership.

Her eyes rolled in the back of her head as she moaned, "Yes, Uncle, I'm yours."

I fucked her slow and deep, feeling every inch inside her tight virgin pussy. Her legs were wrapped round my waist; her heels digging into my back urged me on deeper. A wild thing-a force of nature that I'd unleashed-she was mine now to tame.

The bed was filled with our music: moans, grunts, and slapped skin.

Elena's eyes turned into glass with passion as she came in waves again and again. Her body would shudder like it would lose its own body temperature under such intensity, yet she held on to me tightly, gripping with every pleasure wave that hit her. Her tits bounced every time I thumped into her, those dark, erect nipples that could be addicting to pinch and twist. The flesh of those plump hips filled my palms completely as I took hold of her there, pulling her onto my cock, thrusting deeper with each stroke.

She was lost in the moment, her moans turned into cries of pure pleasure when I hit that sweet spot deep inside of her that curled the toes of their own accord.

"Yes, Uncle!" she yelled then, her voice hoarse and desperate, "Oh, fuck, yes!"

Her vagina was wet; the juices from her vagina combined with my precum, forming a smooth, easy flow of me into her and back out again. Her walls clamped down on me as she orgasmed again; her body arched off the bed, and her back arched in a silent scream of ecstasy.

I watched her, the way she came upon my cock striking me with bursts of pleasure. Her cunt was so tight, so warm, so fucking perfect, all I could do not to blow on my load then and there. But I hadn't finished yet. Far from it.

Letting out an animalistic growl, I pulled out of her and flipped her around so she was on all fours. Her round, plump ass was high in the air, her gaping pussy begging for more. Hard, I slapped her ass, the resounding crack filling the room. Yelping out loud, she pushed back against my hand silently wanting more.

I certainly didn't disappoint. I reached around, gripping her hips and driving back into her with a primal desire, her tight, wet heat swallowing me whole. She was a writhing, moaning mess of desire and satisfaction, and I was the only one who could quench her thirst for relief.

I grabbed her full, round tits, squeezing them roughly, rolling her nipples between my thumb and forefinger. She let out a louder moan, her pussy clenching around me.

"You like that, don't you?" I teased, spanking her bottom again.

"Uncle, yes! Uncle, yes!" she wailed.

I went faster, pulling her doggy style from behind. My balls slapped her clitoris raw with every thrust. I could feel my own orgasm rising, the tension in my balls building up till it became too much to endure.

But I hesitated, enjoying the throb of her tight pussy milking me with each stroke. I knew she could take it; she was made for this. She made shook with every touch. I knew she could take it, she was made for this, made for me.

"I'm gonna fill you up," I snarled like an animal. "You're gonna feel me in you for days. You're gonna be walking around with my cum dribbling down your legs, reminding you of who owns you now."

Her only word was a whine of plea; her hips rolled back into me, taking my cock deeper.

Finally, with one final, powerful stroke, I emptied. My semen shot into her, filling her to the very brim. I could feel it leaking out around my cock, staining her thighs with my mark on her body.

Elena fell backwards onto the bed, her chest heaving. I pulled out of her, my cock still hard, still pulsating from the force of my orgasm.

"Fuck, Elena," I huffed. "You're a bloody goddess."

Her cheek pressed into the pillow, her eyes closed and a satisfied smile was playing on her lips. "Thanks, Uncle," she whispered.

The room held quiet except for our heavy breathing. We lay there-a mess of interlaced body, sweat gluing to the skin. It was only just beginning, me and the first member of my harem against the world-our lifetime with the passion-power in the air.

We had only lain there, basking in the afterglow of our union.

Through heavy curtains, the morning light filtered, throwing a silent heave over the room. Elena's body draped across mine, was soft-skinned and warm, and her very breathing was peaceful. A space of time went by as I just stared up at the ceiling and let the stillness settle. The things that really needed to be done were firing away in my head, but just for these brief moments, I'd let the feeling of my silent victory last.

It was laughably easy to manipulate her. A lifetime of grooming and molding, molding her thoughts and desires and loyalty— all of it came down to this moment. I did not have to analyze it and give a rat's arse about the psychology behind it. Stockholm syndrome? Daddy issues? Who cared? She was mine, body and soul, and that was all that mattered.

Her hair tickled my chest as she stirred, muttering something indistinguishable into the pillow, then blinked up at me in those blue adoring eyes. "Morning," she murmured, drowsy but warm.

"Morning," I said, running a hand through her hair. The touch was light but possessive.

She stretched, a move of her body against mine that wasn't at all innocent. "Shower?" she asked with a teasing smile, already knowing the answer.

I smirked and slid out from underneath her before standing. "Let's go."

The shower was as intense as the bed through which I pulled her close again, letting the hot water cascade on us. She was willing, compliant, utterly devoted which I wanted her to be. By the time we stepped out, her legs were already more shaky than before, and she weakly leaned her weight against me.

"I'll make breakfast," she offered, getting into a robe.

"You do that," I told her, pulling on the slacks and a nice shirt. There were things to plan, and she knew that, when I got like this, she should not bother me.

I went down to the hall, where there was already that smell of fresh coffee and frying bacon in every corner. Elena was in the kitchen, singing softly to herself as she walked around. She turned up her face, beaming at me with that irritating smile she'd give me each time.

I poured myself some coffee and propped myself against the counter. "We need to talk," I said, my tone firm but soft enough to avoid sounding alarming.

She turned, her eyes fixed on me. "What is it?"

I took a sip before answering. "I'm leaving tomorrow... for New York, for Steele Enterprises."

Her expression fell, for an instant, before it once again got back to being inscrutable. "So soon?

"I've been gone long enough," I said. "There's work to be done, after all. The company can't run itself."

Her stiff shoulders relaxed then and she nodded. "I understand." Of course, she did. She always did.

I set the mug down and stepped forward, brushing a tendril of hair aside from her face.

"You stay here," I whispered. "Keep everything in order, and I'll call you when I want you."

"Yes, Uncle," she whispered softly, her cheeks coloring.

I kissed her forehead. This was a carefully staged display of affection. "Good girl."

The rest of the day was a haze of activity. I had spent hours in my study going over papers, making calls, and firming up plans. Steele Enterprises would finance my next move, but I had to wrap it up well. Convincing my executives to pump millions into an AI project-or secretly into The Wealth System-wouldn't be easy, but that was how I'd built my empire-persuasion and manipulation. They would fall in line.