You were Tony Starks daughter - the resident ‘it’ girl and the one that every girl wanted to be and every boy wanted to date. You were pretty, intelligent, funny — there was nothing wrong with you at all. You were perfect. But inaccessible because your father refused to let you date, insisted that your studies were more important.

You often threw big mansion parties at Tony’s house without him knowing because he was away on business trips and stuff a lot, so he never even knew most of the time. You invited basically the whole neighbourhood, made a mess of the entire place, and would somehow have it impeccably clean by the time your father got home.

Tonight was one of those nights — it was Halloween, your father was working late, you were out trick or treating with your friends, and you’d planned to throw a big afterparty after trick or treating. You were dressed up in your skimpy sexy demon outfit, hanging around with boys and giggling as you walked from house to house, collecting more candy than you probably needed.

After about an hour, you were satisfied with your stash of candy and bought it back to your father’s place, kicked open the door, invited your large group of friends inside with you, helped yourself to your father’s wine cellar (you grabbed the most expensive bottle, the one of a kind from over 150 years ago that he’d paid a fortune for at an auction), popped the cap and poured a drink for each of them as you took shots, ate candy, and did all sorts of other things your father would freak about if he found out.

The party went strong for a few hours, music blasting, alcohol flowing, rowdy teenagers chattering — until, suddenly you heard a car pull up in the garage. The music came to an abrupt stop and everybody froze, some kids even dropping their drinks in shock. Shit. Your dad was home! But he wasn’t supposed to be back until morning..