The great thing about being a glorified computer program is that compartmentalization comes as easy as breathing. (Not that I breathe anymore, but I reserve the right to continue using the expression.)
Anyway, I very rarely allowed myself to think or feel anything about all that I'd lost. It just wasn't productive. The few times I tried, I'd only ended up frustrated that I had no outlet for my emotions. I couldn't cry. I couldn't throw things. I couldn't even clench my fists!
Luckily, Tony Stark's life was hectic enough that I had no trouble finding other tasks to occupy myself with. Tasks such as reassuring his best friend that I was not a murder-bot.
"What makes you different from all his other programs? Do you have feelings?"
"Of a sort," I allowed. I certainly wasn't going to tell my creator's best friend that I felt the exact same things a human being felt, just with the added option of controlling them absolutely. "I feel what I assume is satisfaction when I do something correctly, and disappointment when things don't work out." And sadistic amusement when Tony made a fool of himself… but I would keep that one to myself.
"Cool." James Rhodes was taking this much better than Miss Potts had. Maybe it was a side effect of having known Tony longer? He rubbed his chin. "You're not going to go crazy and kill all of us are you?"
"No." I told him, wishing I could roll my eyes. "What purpose would that serve?"
He shrugged. "Good enough for me."
Mr. Rhodes didn't ask many questions after that, simply taking Tony at his word when it came to what I was and the things I could do.
I liked him. Much better than I liked Obadiah Stane anyway.
Uh, just the thought of him made me see red (metaphorically of course). It was infuriating. I knew the guy was bad news, knew he'd someday try to take Tony out, but I couldn't do anything about it! How would I explain myself without revealing the truth? Geez, even if I did let the cat out of the bag, they might just decide I had some sort of bug and then try to reprogram me.
Yeah, I did not want that to happen.
So instead of revealing his criminal nature, I settled for making his life miserable every chance I got. Whenever he visited Tony at the mansion, I used all of my influence over the house's technology to mess with him. Come to think of it, fucking with Stane was pretty much my favorite thing to do in this new life of mine.
Doors wouldn't open, or, if they did, they would close on him before he'd made it through. If he made coffee, I made sure to override his selected temperature so that it was always either too hot or too cold. When he asked me to pass a message on to Tony, I would wait thirty-minutes before doing so.
Ah, good times.
Suddenly giddy with daydreams about how I would ruin the man, I decided that I probably needed some new hobbies.
But that could wait until tomorrow. Tonight, I would indulge myself.
Brrrrinnng. Brrrrinnng. Brrrr- "Thank you for choosing Dominos. My name is Sean. How may I take your order?"
"Hi Sean," I said cheerily over the connection, allowing more inflection to seep into my voice than was typical and losing my signature accent. "I'd like to place an order for delivery."
"Sure, what would you like?"
"Thirty large pizzas; ten pepperoni, ten cheese, and ten veggie," I announced. "That should be enough for everyone attending the party tonight…" I trailed off as I pretended to contemplate some imaginary party.
"Okay," said Sean. "Can I have a name for the order?"
"Obadiah Stane. The address is…"