When Tony came to, he was inside a room that looked like a nightmare version of a dentists' office. Bright, searing lights, blazed out of the ceiling and directly on to his face. The nest of illumination surrounded by a hanging group of odd equipment that could have come straight out of a movie about alien abductions. Lots of needles and tubes and large metal that at one point had probably gleamed with a shine, but now was covered over by a dull red sheen. Dry and not so dry smears of blood. Billy, not currently on the operating table, was trapped inside a glass cylinder filled with a green liquid only a few feet away. Hands bound behind him,plugs in his ears and save for the mask over his face that provided the minimum amount of oxygen nessicary, completely naked.
Sinister's voice came from a distance into Tony's ears as the man awoke, timed to do so for when the current dose of sedative wore off, "Mr. Stark? Hello. How are you this..." He glanced away from Tony's face and at the wall behind the man's head, "Evening. New York Time. Well, I hope? Aside from the expected soreness in your back? Oh, don't worry, you needn't try to speak. Your throat, you'll find, is quite dry. It's the sedatives. Unfortunately, it happens to be the only kind these medical neanderthals have in stock."
He moved around the table, keeping himself within sight of its occupant. "You'll only have a few moments of lucidity. So I thought I'd take the time to say 'You're welcome'. What are you thanking me for? You ask... Why, saving your life from a well meaning group of organ harvesters. I received a communication only hours ago with the deal of the decade. Tony Stark, Iron Man himself, was being put to auction. I bought you out immediately. Your friend, Mr. Kaplan, is much harder to gain ownership of. Apparently they're marketing him to the sorcery crowd. Magic in the blood. So I find myself in the odd position of being part of a bidding war for him. Normally I wouldn't make use of their facilities, but with all the fighting over dear billy, I don't particularly want to leave the area for long."
Sinister turned his back on Tony, picking something off a table, "Your suit - and a work of art it is, I must say - is safe, so you need not worry that genius head of yours over it. But you... Well, I don't want you dead, Mr. Stark. I respect you far too much for that. But I cannot forgo the opportunity to find out more about you and those strange little gold nanites that crawl all over your cells. And, of course, take a look at that brain. Curious how the synapses respond more like a computer than a man. Oh my... you're starting to drift off again aren't you?"
He returned to Tony's side and smiled down at him, a freshly cleaned needle in his off hand. Sinister chuckled dryly, "Don't worry, you won't feel a thing."
The needle was set to the vein and pressed in. Darkness, for Tony, soon followed.