Blue Light Special

Chapter Two: Drunk and Disorderly

California, 1971

I: Tony

Tony looked idly out the window, watching the desert scream by at an alarming rate as he took another swig of whiskey.

Chugging whiskey out of the bottle made Tony feel like some stumbling gutter drunk.

Not that he didn’t already know he was a, a rather heavy drinker, maybe not a drunk per se, but there was a difference between being a high class boozer partaking of a few mixed drinks in crystal glasses, even if ice was all they were mixed with, and chugging Jack Daniels right out of the bottle because you haven’t had a drink in three days and it made you feel even worse than dehydration and a sluggish heart.

Oh well. Bottoms up.

Wait.

There was the bottom.

Shit.

“Napalm, I’m not sure how to say this to you as we drive over this long stretch of trackless desert, but, I drank all your whiskey.”

Napalm just laughed.

“You think a drunken Mick like me would hand the last of the booze to a lush like you without reinforcements? I got half a case of Jack in the trunk under the sleeping bags. Gimme the dead soldier and I’ll go get another bottle. And somethin’ with a little nutritional value. Can’t drink whiskey all day on an empty stomach, you’ll be pukin’ out your guts by nightfall. I’ll wait till we get to one of those pull-offs and we’ll park the car for awahile.”

A few miles down, she pulled over.

Tony followed her out of the car as she moved the sleeping bags, put the empty bottle in and took a full bottle out.

“So, you just, come right out and say it, huh?”

“Say what?”

“That you drink too much.”

Liv spoke absently as she unpacked a blanket and went to lift a medium sized cooler, which Tony took over for her.

“No, I don’t drink too much. I’m your stereotypical shanty Irish drunk. On a good day, I start boozing at breakfast, and I drink all day long until it’s time to go to bed at night, and I don’t pass out or puke all over myself. On a bad day I drink so much I pass out or black out and when I wake up, I don’t know where the fuck I am, or where the fuck I’ve been. On a real bad day, which happens three or four times a year, I go on these binges where I drink whiskey like it was beer and beer like it was water for days and I go into this state where I become the avatar of chaos and I destroy everything in my path. Things, people, myself, anything. When it passes, badguys are dead, cars are wrecked, bars are destroyed, regular people are hurt and I am spending a few days in bed with a broken something or a stab wound and a few times a bullet, recovering. Yeah, I’m a drunk.”

Liv had spread out the blanket and she was now sitting on it and opened the cooler.

“And those would be the Troubles?”

“You betcha. Alright, it works!”

“What works.”

“My doohickey.”

“You’re what?”

Liv pointed to a small metal box with a plastic housing around it duct taped to the side of the cooler.

“My doohickey. Liquid nitrogen and little Tesla coils and some of my own little technical tricks. Keeps my beer and my emergency food cold. A little experiment of mine I made at the lab in my free time.”

“Can I touch it without my fingers freezing off?”

“Nope. That’s what the plastic box is for. I’m still working on it. I applied for a patent, though.”

“I never thought of this. Napalm, tell me why you thought of this before I thought of this?”

“Because you never spent four months in the wilderness in the Great White North, stopping for ice every time you found some dump that sold it. Not only did it piss me off my beer got warm, I was always worrying mine and Logan’s food was gonna go bad. I mean, maybe he can kill a deer and eat it raw, but I’m a city girl, you know? I thought this out and when I got home again, I built it, and it works. Benny Grossmann made this stuff for me before I left New York, and it’s still good.”

“Wait a minute. You’re telling me this is Grossmann’s food? ”

“Yup. Ain’t science great? Watch those lids, man. That’s Alfred’s Tupperware. I promised him I wouldn’t mess it up.”

“Is there no end to your resourcefulness?”

“I always some prepared.”

It was sunny, and hot, but the jail had been damp and dark, so Tony didn’t mind the desert heat for a little while.

“Am I eating everything? I’m sorry. I haven’t had a decent meal in ages.”

“Don’t worry about it, Tony. Have another beer, too. I got another 12 cans in the car.”

“Aren’t you going to tell me not to drink so much?”

“Nope. I got my reasons. You must have yours.”

“I’m not sure what mine are.”

“Really? I know exactly why I’m a drunk. And it’s not because I’ve seen too much. Although I have seen too much, but I been seein’ it literally all my life. I don’t ever remember not wanting to be a mask, and I decided what side of the cape I was going to be on when I was six. I do the dirty jobs, but I was born to it, yunno. I can take it. But drinking makes it easier. Still, I think I drink so that I can deal with me. Not the world. It’s a war inside my head, man. My brains always roaring at me like a jet engine. Even when I’m sleeping. No peace. No quiet. Ever. And I can’t control it. So, happy days.”

Liv cracked another beer.

“That jet engine thing? As you get older and you grow into your intelligence, it gets better.” Tony told her.

“That’s good to know. Won’t help the rest of it, though. Bad memories. That kind of shit.”

“Maybe that’s my reason. Cheers!”

He cracked another beer.

Liv tapped on his chest.

“Pretty bad, huh? Especially a guy like you. Never saw the dirt in his life, and all of the sudden, you’re in the sewer. They torture you?”

“Of course.”

“They fuck you?”

“What? No! Jesus, Napalm, what kind of question is that to ask?”

“What? I know sometimes when they torture you, they fuck you.”

“They wanted me to work, not break completely.”

“Did you break?”

“Not as much as I thought I would. Would you know anything about that, Napalm? Torture?”

“Torture? A little. I was helpin’ Logan out, and Hydra got me. They got somebody to try and pick my brain, and he couldn’t. So then they tried this high-tech pain and pressure point shit. Hurt like a motherfucker. Anyway, after that didn’t work, this big bruiser came in, and tried to fuck me. He wasn’t bad looking, I thought about killing him after he was done, but then I figured since It was supposed to be torture he was probably going to beat me up and fuck me in the ass, so I waited until he got on top of me and I got him in a leg-lock and snapped his neck. Then I escaped. How many did you take with you when you escaped?”

“About a hundred. But I had the suit. You?”

“About fifteen. But they were doing all that samurai shit, and I managed to liberate my chopper.”

“You’re one tough son-of-a-bitch, aren’t you?”

“I got no choice. Now you don’t either. Hey, you wanna have a lie down and I’ll help you put in the spare chest piece?”

“That’s a good idea.”

***

After the operation, they were back on the road again.

There was definitely a lot more to Liv Napier than her bad reputation warranted.

She was insanely well-prepared, and despite admittedly being an extremely eccentric alcoholic with a mercurial temperament and a passionate love of entropy, she ran her life with a military kind of precision and discipline.

She probably needed same just to keep body and soul together.

Along with the cases of Newcastle Brown and Jack Daniels in the trunk, there was a tent, two sleeping bags, a blanket, three boxes of cartridges, a small cooler, a first-aid kit, probably a change of clothes or two, and a machine gun.

She also had nerves of steel; she stuck her hand into his chest twice without so much as shaking; the second time she produced her first aid kit and did some cleaning and sterilising in and around the housing.

After looking down the housing with a flashlight, and telling Tony it looked to her like his heart was beating just fine, but her knowledge as an evolutionary biologist was rudimentary as to medicine.

All while she was sitting on top of him, with her stupendous tits rubbing up against him.

And she was also a great driver.

He was getting used to drinking straight from the bottle.

“Hey, good-lookin’. Pass the bottle.”

He passed the bottle to Liv.

Good lookin’? Isn’t that something a man usually says to a woman?

Relax, brain.

We’re feminists now, remember.

Besides, I am good-looking.

True.

She was driving with one hand and she took a long drink, wrapping her lips around the mouth of the bottle in a way that made him feel a little uneasy in the best possible way.

She leaned over him to toss the bottle into the glove compartment, then threw her hand onto the gearshift, holding it from a moment and rolling the knob across her palm before she forcefully shifted gears, popping the clutch and stomping on the accelerator.

As the big Buick surged forward, Tony couldn’t help but notice she let out a little gasp as she turned the radio up on her Chuck Berry tape.

Her face was a little flushed, her lips were parted, her eyes flashed and she squirmed a little against the yellow leather seat.

He could see her nipples, taut and straining, poking against the ribbed fabric of the fatigue undershirt, and, thinking about how they felt poking against his chest, he licked his lips.

My God, I’ll never go into an Army surplus store again without getting a hard-on.

At first he thought she was putting on a show for his benefit, and then he realised that she wasn’t.

She likes danger, she loves speed, she likes it a lot, and she likes the way she can control it.

It’s turning her on.

She’s turning me on.

Tony.

Go away, brain. I’m busy.

But you very nearly died the other day. And we don’t know just how well the chest plate is fixed and

Tony shut the nagging voice out of his consciousness.

He had important things to think about, and he could think of very few things in life that were more important than fucking.

It wasn’t often you met the kind of woman you could do some serious, down and dirty fucking with. One way or the other, whether it was love, jewellery, cash or to meet that producer or director or agent, most of the women Tony ran into were looking for something besides camaraderie, class and cock, three things of which he had much, much more than the average man.

Which was a crime, because, a woman could get money and jewellery from any rich man, and lies about love from any man at all, and the producers and agents themselves were always accepting applicants for the casting couch.

All the more reason why a delicate flower of drunken eccentricity, casual brutality, and intemperate horniness such as Liv Napier was truly a woman who should not only be cherished as a strong and beautiful woman, but respected as to her independence, her personal choices and her unique needs, in a way that only a modern man, a feminist, and not an archaic judgemental male chauvinist pig would behave.

Which means I am going to fuck her, hard, in multiple positions, until I’m balls deep in her sweet little red snapper and she’s screaming my name and sobbing, with tears of joy running down her face.

God, I love being a feminist.

Tony handed Liv the bottle again and as she took a drink, he put his hand on her thigh, letting his fingers trail over to where her thigh met her body, tickling her a little.

Somehow his thumb made its way to the seam of her paratrooper pants.

Heat seeped through the worn canvas.

Deftly, Tony unbuttoned a few buttons on the fly of her pants and was surprised to find boxers instead of panties, but all the better for him to slip his hand inside.

I never thought I’d be putting my hand inside the flap on somebody’s shorts.

Liv gasped, and capped the bottle.

She tossed it, and gave him a burning, hungry look as she grabbed his hand and urged it further.

Her head fell back a little and she moaned, showing him her lovely white throat.

Tony ignored his brain’s frantic protests that they were going over a hundred miles an hour as he leaned across the seats and slid his other hand under the fatigue a-line shirt as he kissed her neck.

He moved his lips up to her ear, whispering breathily.

He liked talking dirty to girls, most of them liked it, too, whether or not they waned to admit to it.

“Mmm, I’ve been wanting to touch your stupendous tits for days. You naughty girl, rubbing them all over me. You’ve been bad. And you must be punished. Pull over, you little red devil, Daddy wants to fuck.”

Napalm let out an unholy whoop and wrenched the wheel.

The car careened off the road, brakes squealing, tires burning, sand and gravel and dust flying everywhere.

The back end fishtailed and the front end dipped and then the car ground to an abrupt stop on the dusty side of the long desert highway.

They both put their hands on the gearshift and thrust it into first as Liv turned the key off.

“Get in the back.” Liv growled.

She didn’t even open the door, she just crawled into the back and Tony smacked her on the ass.

He had to get out of the car to move, though, and he kicked his shoes off before getting out and wrenched open one of the back doors.

She was already naked, and waiting for him.

And she was a real redhead, too.

“Shit, I forgot to take the guns off.” Napalm said.

“Leave ‘em on. It’s a kick I haven’t tried.”

He let her watch him take off his pants and his dirty undershirt and got back into the car, pulling the door shut and sliding over top of her.

She had her hard, tattooed little hand all over his cock; she was already guiding him into her little red snapper.

Tony gasped.

“You think you’re dirty, don’t you, Tony? Nobody’s dirtier than me.” She laughed

“We’ll see about that. No, no, my dear, move your leg this way.”

“My leg doesn’t go that way.”

“Yes it does. Let me. I won’t hurt you. I’m a trained yoga master.”

He had his hand on her ankle, and turned to kiss her calf.

His back was against the roof of the car, but that was alright.

“You see, when you have your leg like that, I can do….this!”

She howled.

Like a dog.

Like a bitch in heat.

Oh, my.

The girl fixed him with a look of furious lust.

“Yeah, well, I can do this. I’m self-taught. Oooo, Tony, you’re glowing.”

It was like a million tiny deft fingers gripping his cock at once.

The whole interior of the car was bathed in intense blue light.

“That’s because you’re so bad, baby…. I love it…Now, tell me how you want me to give you all…this…cock.”

Her eyes were closed, she was eating up every single thrust like it was ice cream on a hot day.

“Hard.”

“I knew you would. Open your eyes, Napalm. Look at me while I’m fucking your hot little burning bush.”

Napalm opened her eyes.

They were dark and feral with her lust as groans and snarls and screams came out of her white throat.

She was strong, so strong, and pushed back against him with such force that she was smacking his back against the roof of the car, over and over again.

THUD! THUD! THUD!

Sweat was pouring down the sides of his face and the small of his back and his ears were ringing like a fire alarm.

“You’re a little animal, aren’t you? I’ll bet you can take it all, can’t you? Tell me how much you want.”

“I want it all!” she roared.

Tony pulled out of her, completely, panting, and he was thinking about teasing her for a little while, but she didn’t seem like the kind of girl who liked to be teased, and there were guns within reach.

He bent over her to encircle her nipples with his tongue and she made a fist in his hair, holding his head against her.

“I don’t know. I think I might be too big for your tight little red pussy. Maybe you can’t take it.”

“Don’t tease me, Tony. I don’t like to be teased.”

“I want to tell you something, baby. Before I fill your burning bush fuller than it’s ever been before. Ask me what…”

He whispered softly in her ear, nibbling her earlobe, as he caressed her breasts and rolled her nipples between his fingers.

She moaned, writhing beneath him.

“What?” she finally capitulated.

Tony, it’s so corny…

Shut up, brain. I’m working.

And I’ve been wanting to do this for years.

He reared up, grabbling Liv’s other ankle in his other hand, pulling the mouth of her pussy down over the head of his cock.

“I AM IRON MAN!”

He thrust into her as hard as he could, burying his cock in her all the way up to his balls, over and over and over again.

Liv let out a sound that was somewhere between a scream and a roar, and knocked him against the door with the force of her hips.

His head smacked against the window and she almost knocked the wind out of him.

God damn, this was some serious fucking.

We’re going to need a bigger bed.

“Mmmm, baby, you were made to fuck, weren’t you? Come for me, that’s a good girl. Come for Daddy. Come on.”

She bucked against him, rearing up off the seat, and Tony let her legs go, and clasped her against his chest, his hands around her hips.

She undulated against him, her knees pressing against the car window, rubbing her tits all over him and squeezing his cock, creaming all over his balls.

“Oooo…oooo…oh fuck…fuck yeah….oooo…your turn, Tony.” She gasped.

He had wanted to make it last longer, but he was losing control , she was driving him crazy, it felt insanely good.

And she was still coming, now she was sitting astride his cock, her tits bouncing against his chest as she rode him hard.

The light from his chest piece was blinding him.

“Fuck me, I’m having a meltdown. Oh, fuck!” Tony moaned.

“Feel like you’re on fire, don’tcha? That’s…uhh!....why they call me Napalm. I’m gonna make you come.” She gasped.

“And I’m going to make you watch.” Tony grunted.

He lowered her back onto the seat and kept fucking her, until he was just about to come and then he pulled his cock out of her and reared up.

He heard her snarl and watched her take his cock in her fist as he started to come all over her tits.

She leaned forward, her long red hair all over both of them, all over the car, wrapped her lips around his cock, sucking him hard as he came and then and, looking up at him with a diabolical smile in her eyes, she licked the head of his cock clean.

Tony made a horrible strangled sound that was somewhere between a grunt and a moan and a scream, grabbed hold of her head with both hands and she took him in like a sword swallower at the carnival.

“Take it, baby! Suck me hard, you take it all!”

He came a second time on a wave of lust so dumbfounding that he nearly passed out.

Tony Stark fell back against the window, sitting on his heels, talking in air in big gasping gulps

“You’re so dirty, Tony. You really are. ” Liv sighed, leaning back into the seats, licking her lips.

“You win! I give up!” he cried.

He collapsed on top of her, and Liv put her arm around him.

“You’re a real good fuck, sugar. But nobody’s dirtier than me, chief. I’m the goddamn dirtiest girl in the world.”

She was running her fingers through his hair for awhile, the way she had at the jail , but then she stopped because she had fallen asleep, and he fell asleep, as well.

***

Tony didn’t wake up until they were in the parking lot of the hotel he’d directed her to go to.

Liv opened the door, grinning at him as he lifted his head off the seat, still naked, blinking in the sunlight.

“Wha…?
“We’re here, Mr. Stark. Get dressed.” She smirked.

Obviously gloating that she knocked his ass out.

Wasn’t fair.

After all, he wasn’t up to speed, yet.

Tony pulled on his hastily discarded clothes and staggered out of the car, yawning, and sleepily followed Liv to the door, muttering to himself about a rematch.

She was walking funny, and for a minute he wondered if he’s been a little too zealous and then Tony remembered she said she was hurt, and he noticed when they were naked that she had a foam knee brace and an Ace bandage on.

“Napalm, you are definitely limping. You’re dragging your leg. Should you be on that leg, at all?”

“No. But I lost my goddamn crutches, someplace. Although, I gotta say, my leg feels better, now, Mr. Yoga Master.”

“We’ll get you some crutches. Until then, may I offer you my arm?”

“Certainly.”

Now, Napalm, who commonly was attired, as Logan once pointed out, like a ‘Nam vet with shell shock, was used to getting dirty looks from snooty hotel managers and clerks until she pulled out her wallet, but it was a new experience for the usually impeccably dressed Tony Stark.

“Why is he looking at us like that? I always stay here.”

“Because we look like we’ve been a Mexican jail for two or three days. And we smell like it too. That and you’re barefoot, and your undershirt is on backwards.”

“Oh. I begin to see why you dress like this, Napalm. When people aren’t kissing your ass for you all the time, you get to see their true nature. Interesting. Unfortunately, I have grown quite accustomed to having my ass kissed.”

“I’m not surprised. You’ve got a great ass.”

“Thank you.”

“Well, it’s different for you than me. Seriously, man. You’re six foot one, you look like a combination of Sean Connery and Errol Flynn, the sight of you in a tux makes grown men cry and every woman who sees you takes about one minute to start thinking about how it would feel to be underneath you with her legs around your waist. Me, I’m just a little Irish mutt from Brooklyn.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, Napalm. You are not a little mutt. I think you’re very pretty, no matter how hard you try to hide it. Pretty all over. And I’m in a position to know. You just fucked my brains out.”

“Was I too much for you?”

“Hell, no! As soon as I have a little nap and a bath and I get my bearings, you’re going to find out what I can really do. I rescind my concession. You exacted it under duress. We shall see who is the raunchiest of all. Of course you know, this means war!”

Tony gave Napalm his best swashbuckling grin.

She grinned back.

By this time, they were at the front desk.

“May I help you, sir?” the clerk asked, as condescendingly as possible.

Tony looked down on him.

“No. I don’t deal with lackeys. Get me the manager. Well? Get me the manager, now!”

The clerk wasn’t sure who the dirty, shabby man was, but if he was acting like he was important, he must be.

The manager recognised Tony immediately, Mexican jail dirt and all.

The glowing circle beneath his undershirt was a big hint.

He turned to the clerk.

“You idiot! Do you know who this is? Never mind. Go away. Go take the next person in line. How are you today, Mr. Stark? How can we help you?”

“I feel capital, Mr. Livingston. Just capital. I’ll need the Presidential Suite, for starters. And Ms. Napier lost her crutches in Tijuana, we’ll need another pair. She looks to be about, oh five foot one, and I’d say about 145. And I’ll need the closest possible suite to it for my personal secretary, who will be arriving tomorrow. And, oh, you know. Everything I usually need.”

“You usual lunch, sir?”

“Of course. What about you, Liv?”

Liv got an impish look in her green eyes, which flashed yellowy with her sly grin.

“I could use a cheeseburger, some fries, a bowl of chicken soup, and a six-pack of Newcastle Brown. Cold. Also a carton of Luckies. No filters. And, let’s see now. I need extra shampoo in the bathroom, I have a lot of hair. Pantene, please. And a shower cap. The kind with the satin lining. Extra large, please. Also some sandalwood soap. And two vials of imported Indian patchouli oil, and one of Sandalwood. And I need my vehicle to be parked in a secure location, I keep things of value in it.”

She tugged on the chain that went from her belt to her back pocket and pulled out her wallet, from which she casually flicked a platinum American Express card.

“Liv, put that away. Your money’s no good here. It’s on me. This is my hotel, after all, and you and Bruce and Dick are always my guests, whenever you stay here. ” Tony said, stopping her hand.

The manager called for the clerk he had just sent away.

“Did you get that, Jenkins?”

“Sir?”

“Here. I wrote it down. Here are your keys, Mr. Stark. And Miss, ah…”

“Ms. Napier. Trivelino J. Napier. The J doesn’t stand for anything.”

The manager blanched.

“Miss Napier, so nice to have you here in our hotel! Mr. Wayne has stayed her many times, as Mr. Stark said, as our special guest. I would offer you the Presidential Suite but…but…”

Liv let him stew for awhile.

“That’s alright, Mr. Jenkins. Mr. Stark and I have some important business to conduct during our stay; we have a lot of work to do and I’m sure the Presidential suite will be satisfactory to both of us.”

“Thank you, Miss Napier. Jenkins! Get the elevator. Now!”

“Napalm, you are an evil woman.” Tony told her.

“I know.” Liv replied

***

“Wayne Manor, Alfred speaking. May I ask who is calling?”

“Hello, Alfred. It’s Liv.”

“We’ve been waiting to hear from you, Miss Trivelino. How is your recovery coming along?”

“I feel like a new woman, Alfred. I’ve just had the most interesting therapy. Could you put me on the secure line?”

“Certainly.”

Liv waited on the line on Tony’s S.H.I.E.L.D issue satellite phone.

“Batman speaking.”

“It’s Harlequin. We’ve got trouble.”

“We, or you?”

“We. I was down in TJ, for a little R & R, and I went to a bar called El Loco Toro. No, it was Toro Loco. Whichevah. Anyway, after I only had three or four beers and one shot of tequila, I started to feel woozy. Really woozy. And you know me. I could fly a goddamn jet on that.”

“I see.”

Bruce Wayne took a deep breath and counted to ten.

He did not want to shout.

“Pop? Bruce?”

“Now, speaking as your stepfather, rather than as Batman, may I ask you a question, Liv?”

“Shoot, Pop.”

“What the hell were you doing getting plastered in a bar in Tijuana when you were supposed to be drying out and recuperating from your leg injury at a S.H.I.E.L.D rehab facility in San Diego?”

Not shouting yet.

“C’mon, Bruce. They wouldn’t even let me have a beer for two weeks.”

“That’s because you were also supposed to be drying out! When, Liv? When are you going to stop? I knew you went over the wall. I didn’t want to believe it, because I didn’t trust the source, but I knew it.”

“Who was the source?”

“Your father! He sent the message to me in code over the Society of Supervillains emergency frequency!”

Shouting now.

“Oh. Look, forget about the me goin’ over the wall thing. I was drugged in that bar. Heavily. I staggered out into the street and collapsed, and when I woke up I was in the back of a cop car and the federales were taking me to the local jail. They said I’d have to wait another day or two for the judge to come to town, and tossed me in the drunk tank. Guess who was already there?”

“I can’t imagine.”

“Tony Stark. And not only did they drug him, somebody tried to rip out his battery. He was dying.”

“Oh my God, you’re with Tony! Now I need a drink. Dying? What do you mean, dying? Is he alright?”

“Fine. The idiot who tried to take him out knew nothing about simple mechanics. All he did was break a few wires. I created a temporary power supply, we removed the broken unit, Tony fixed it, and then we re-installed the unit. I had some food and clean water with me, and I spent the next day or so looking after him, and then Iron Man broke us out of jail. I picked up my car just over the border, and now we’re in that big time joint where you always stay in San Diego.”

“What do you mean Iron Man broke you out of jail? You and Tony Stark were in the drunk tank in Tijuana and you broke out of jail! Liv, you really are your father’s daughter, sometimes. I have to call Cap. And then, I’m calling your new partner. You are coming back to New York, kiddo! And you’re not leaving the city again unless one of us is with you until further notice!”

“Bruce, you’re taking this the wrong way. I’m 22 years old. You can’t order me back to New York. And I’m telling you, someone is trying to kill me and Iron Man.”

“Oh yes I can. As the vice-president of the Justice League, of which you are a trainee I can tell you to come to the next meeting in a pink tutu and you would damn well have to do it! Liv, before I get angrier, would you at least consider an alternative theory? Did it ever occur to you that you and Tony Stark are raging alcoholics, and that you pretty much start drinking when you get up in the morning and don’t stop until you go to bed at night, and that you don’t consider yourselves drunk as long as you are in a vertical position and not vomiting on your own shoes? So you had four beers and a tequila in that bar? What about what you drank the rest of the day? Tijuana is like Mecca for drunks. It’s not beyond the realm of possibility that Tony got away from his secretary and went on a binge in Tijuana around the same time that you somehow escaped from the S.H.I.E.L.D facility, and when he staggered into the street outside the bar and fell onto the ground in a stupor he damaged his chest plate. And you made the same rounds of the same dives and ended up the same way a day or two later.”

Liv thought about it.

“I don’t buy it.”

“Of course not. I’d rather think that there was some Mexican madman targeting masks than admit that I was going on a serious binge because it was my last hurrah before grow-up time, too. Just stay in San Diego for a few days until you’ve recovered from your binge and your stint in jail, and then come home. I’ll give you four days, Liv. Four days. And then I’m calling your partner and he and Batman are coming to get you. Not me. Batman. So you had better get yourself home before I have to send them. It won’t be pretty.”

“I’ll have proof by then, Bruce. You’ll see.”

“I’m sure you will. Put Mr. Stark on the phone, please.”

A bellboy arrived with Liv’s food, and everything else she ordered, and Tony opened the door to the suite’s office to tell her.

“Sure. But Bruce wants to talk to you. I’m gonna go in the other room an’ eat. Then I’m takin’ a bath.” Liv announced.

“Good. Because I have to make a million phone calls. Hello, Bruce.”

“Don’t you hello me! What the hell are you doing? Liv’s just a kid, that’s some kind of excuse! What’s your excuse! You’re a grown man, what is the matter with you?”

“I don’t remember you giving Logan this speech. He spent four months with her, and every Wednesday since, and he’s got a hundred years on me.”

“It’s not about that! Not that I don’t think that what you’ve already done with my stepdaughter is reprehensible, considering she’s a hopeless drunk who doesn’t know which end is up! Then again I can’t expect you to realise that because so are you! I mean what are you doing going on some drunken binge in Tijuana? What if my stepdaughter the mechanical genius didn’t happen to be debauching herself at the same time? You would have died, Tony! Died like a dog in the drunk tank of a Mexican jail. You were drugged? Drugged, my ass! You fell down in the street because you’d been blind, stinking drunk for God only knows how many days, and you landed on your chest plate and broke it!”

“Bruce, you weren’t there. I was. I saw the look I was getting from that bartender. I’m telling you, in 24 hours, I’ll have proof that there is a conspiracy against my life. And the Harlequin’s.”

“No, Tony, in 24 hours you will have a hangover from the grand debauch that you and Liv are planning on having that I can do nothing about. But I know someone who can. I hate to do this to you, Tony, but you’ve fallen into your own cover story. You need to decide if you’re going to be the President of Stark Industries, and Iron Man of the Avengers, or a rich drunk who sticks his pecker in everything with false eyelashes, silicone tits and a designer dress on. And I need my stepdaughter to come home and start her apprenticeship before she sinks into an alcoholic twilight, completely. Call your secretary. Tell her you’re still alive. You have four days, Tony. Four. And then very bad things are going to happen. Very bad things. I’m going, now. Goodbye.”

The line went dead.

Tony looked at the receiver.

“He’s always so grim. And moody. Oh well, that’s just Bruce. Now, who do I need to call first? Pepper. Definitely Pepper.”