Disclaimer: I make no money from doing this, and the only characters I own are Liv Napier and Mel Reinhardt, cos I invented them!
(Author's Note: Some of you may have noticed that Iron Man, herein, is a lot more like Ultimate Iron Man than regular Marvel continuity Iron Man, and that is probably because the similarity is entirely intentional, on my part. In this, and all my stories, he's a combination of the best parts of both.)
Chapter Four: Busted
S.H.I.E.L.D. Regional Motorpool, Masked Operative Rehabilitation (MORC) Complex, near San Diego, California, 1971
I: Logan
Working with Eddie wasn't like working, it was like taking a vacation.
It wasn't Charlie's high ideals for heroes that Logan needed the vacation from. Sure, it was more discipline than he was used to; but, at least as far as he could remember, Logan had always made an effort to keep the beast in him on a real short leash, when letting him out wasn't absolutely necessary.
Logan was an honourable man, bound by the bushido code, a man who commanded loyalty and respect for himself and felt same for the masks he lived and worked with, especially Charlie.
Indeed, if Charlie wasn't in a wheelchair and he could go and lead missions himself, Logan wouldn't need a vacation.
But he had Cyke to deal with. And, as Mel pointed out, Scott wasn't a bad guy, but he was a prude, an obsessive, and pretty much Mr. Square John Plastic Fantastic Dry White Toast.
Which could get kind of annoying at lunchtime and when you were trying to figure out what you wanted on TV in the Faculty Lounge, but, in the end, despite the fast he was prissy, prudish, and uptight, Cyke was a pretty good guy. There wasn't anything wrong with him that a long vacation, a half of a bottle of tequila spiked with two or three hits of acid and a really good blowjob wouldn't cure. After all, the poor bastard had a lot of responsibility on him for a young man, and he didn't sleep much, so they'd had a lot of late nights at the X-Mansion kitchen table, over a few beers, or even a pot of tea.
Logan had made his helpful suggestion as to the cure for Scott's ills, and Cyke had been predicibly horrified. He explained that he had no time for a vacation, didn't drink hard liquor, that he had nothing to do with drugs, and furthermore that he would never expect, ask, or allow a woman to perform such a degrading act upon him.
Which went a long ways towards explaining why Jeannie didn't sleep much, either, but that was neither here nor there.
As a guy he had to live with, Cyke wasn't so bad; they were actually kind of buddies.
It was in his capacity as a leader that Cyke could rub Logan the wrong way. When you were on a mission or in the heat of battle and you were getting orders from this guy, it kind of made you want to pop a claw and let a little of the hot air and pomp and circumstance out of him.
The man seriously needed to loosen up.
Now, when you were with Eddie, you didn't have to worry about any of that.
You did have to worry about his temper, though.
"I am not drivin' anywhere in one of these piece of shit Frog cars! Or one of those Jap cars, neither! You get me a goddamn American car, fucko, before I get really mad! And don't gimme no compact piecea shit with an engine the size of a fuckin' postage stamp, neither!"
Although, he did almost felt sorry for the kid behind the desk; he was probably some big upper level S.H.I.E.L.D agent's little brother or kid, who slid into a nice cushy job at the motor pool.
That was until he tried to stick the Comedian with a Renault.
"I'm sorry, sir, but that's all we-"
Eddie looked like he was about ready to grab the kid, haul him across the desk and start blowing cigar smoke in his face while he yelled at him.
A lot of people found that extremely frightening to the point where they would piss their pants, so Logan decided to intervene.
"Kid, you got eyes? You know who I am?"
"The Wolverine, sir."
"You know who he is?"
"The Comedian, sir."
"Then quit fuckin' around and get us a decent car before my old army buddy, here, gets really mad and starts dismantling this place."
The kid started looking through a stack of folders on the desk.
"We do have a couple of station wagons…"
The kid was clearly too stupid for his own good.
Logan hoped that he either had a lot of guts or an empty bladder.
"That's it! Fuck this!"
Eddie grabbed the kid by the front of his shirt, hauled him over the desk and started blowing cigar smoke in his face while he yelled at him.
"You get your happy ass into the back and get me about five grand from the fuckin' safe!"
"But I can't do that!" the kid protested.
Logan knew the next step was for Eddie to start slapping the kid around, so he decided it was time for a little Bad Cop, Worse Cop.
"Kid, we're Level 10 agents. If we tell you to go rent a chicken suit and stand outside and wave your dick at passing cars, you'd better do it. Now, are you gonna get the money, or do I have to get mad?"
Snikt!
They walked out with ten grand in a brown envelope.
"You ever buy a car in your costume, before, Jimmy?" Eddie asked.
"Can't say I have, Eddie. Do ya get a better deal?"
"Fuck yeah, ya do!"
California, close to the Mexican border
Over the course of thirty years and a war or three, Logan had been in tanks, jeeps, trucks, and just about any other conveyance with wheels with Eddie driving, so even though he was burying the needle on the speedometer of the silver and black Plymouth Roadrunner he'd just bought, Logan wasn't worried.
"The kid has one of these jobs. Hers moves a little smoother, but that's because she did some work on it. I'll get her ta work on this one. You got a car, Jimmy?"
"Not right now."
"Well, I got two of 'em. Kid's got ten or some fucking crazy number like that. You can have this one. And the rest of the dough. I know they don't pay shit on that X-Men job, and I'll bet Nick has ya doin this job for Mom an' Apple Pie. After I get the kid to work on it, this fuckin' car will make what it's doin' now look like crawlin."
"She does good work. But I guess you know all about that, huh, Eddie?"
"Not me, pal. Kid's bad news. I can't tell if she wants to fuck me or kill me, an' the way she is, I was half-convinced she was a dyke. But I guess you an' her don't play cards all night long, every Wednesday."
Logan looked at him in disbelief, and then started to laugh.
"Jesus, Eddie, do ya think all we did for four months was drink, fight and read books to each other? A guy like me meets some pretty crazy broads, but there's no hellfire like the hellfire in Napalm. Don't let the boxers and undershirt fool ya. The first night she met me, she was all over me. I mean, Napalm wears me out. Me. Ya never saw so much fucking. That girl's got an itch on her that don't stay scratched for long. I don't think she ever met a man besides me who ever managed to put the fire out long enough for her to sleep all through the night. I mean, she was all over me, all the time, every day, except those five or six at the end of the month. If that's all that's botherin' you, forget it. But, you're not that stupid, Eddie. You know I guess that's not all that's botherin' you."
"You know it as well as I do, that kid is fucked up. Bad."
"I tried, Eddie. I helped her. But I can't save her. That's your department. You're the one, right?"
"Yeah, well, I can't save her with my dick, can I? Not that I wouldn't like to try, but there's more to it than that. She's my goddamn apprentice. Kid's gotta respect me. Listen to me. All that shit she hates to do. If I'm just another Joe Blow stickin' my cock in her, she's gonna treat me just like she treats every other asshole she's ever fucked. Except you. Like shit. Like you say, kid's got an itch on her that don't stay scratched."
"Uh-huh. Eddie, you wanna roll that window down all the way? Because it smells like bullshit in here. That itch ain't all between her legs. Some of it's in her head. I'm also the only man whoever treated her decently. With a little kindness. Until she met you."
"Yeah, well, you only got Wednesdays to worry about, Jimmy. Kid's my responsibility. The Bat threw his arms up in the air, he can't do shit with her. Crazy Jack, even he can't do shit with her. You just admitted you can't do shit with her. But me, I'm makin' headway. I happen to give a rat's ass what happens to her. Not that you and the Bat and her father don't, but I'll tellya who don't. That fuckin' asshole Stark. Know-it-all trust fund drunken motherfucker! He can't do shit with himself, let alone anybody else. Goddamn crazy kid. Busts outa a hospital that's more impregnable than fuckin' Alcatraz on a bum leg to go have one more toot in TJ. And runs into the only sunnuvabitch who's as big a lush as she is. He better be lookin' after her, for his fuckin' sake. If her leg's worse, if she's all fucked up, I'm gonna beat that punk like I own him."
"You know, Eddie, if I didn't know better, I'd say you sounded an awful lot like a guy who's pissed off because somebody's musclin' in on his action with his girl."
"You're goddamn right I am! Kid's the kinda broad a guy like me could get used to. Once I figure whether or not kill me comes along with kiss me, I got plans for her. You don't have to worry about that. If she hauls off an' shoots ya in the face or the chest a coupla times, or runs youse over with her car, or hacks into youse with that machete of hers, you'll get better. A fuckin' nuke didn't kill you. Me, not so much."
Eddie had a point.
"You got a point there, Eddie. I got the beast on a short leash, maybe you got the beast on a longer leash than I do, but Napalm? She lets the sunnuvabitch run wild every day, and when she has her Troubles, it's like she feeds it raw meat."
"You got that right. And Good Old Eddie hadta be the first one to put a leash around her. A leash. Leash, my ass. It's more like a big fuckin' chain I gotta beat her with to keep her off my throat. You relax your grip, and animal like that can killya anytime."
"Sorta like you, when you was her age?"
"Yeah. Lucky me, huh?"
Logan hadn't really thought about it before, but now that he did, in the course of a year, now, Liv had threatened to cut his head off with an adamantium machete, given him two black eyes, broken his nose, not to mention that double kidney punch that left him pissing blood for a whole day.
She just seemed to know what places to hit him where it would really, really, really hurt.
Not to mention in due course of her Troubles, she had shot him in the face at point-blank range while in an alcoholic twilight. Also, he'd been in a high-speed car accident with her on any icy road in Westchester where she gave him an all-expense paid trip through the windshield and over an embankment one drunken night.
She was bluffing about the machete. And didn't even remember shooting him. At the time, when she shot him, she didn't know who he was. And it was a good thing he was in the wreck, because when he came to he was healed by the time he got up the embankment, and pulled her, unconscious, out of the wreckage of the car with a concussion and some minor bruises and cuts about two minutes before the car caught on fire.
"Yeah, you got a point, there, Eddie. When she's not having the Troubles, you're alright. Sure, if she's drunk enough, and you say "shoehorn" the wrong way, maybe you get a black eye or a bloody nose. But when she's havin' the Troubles, you're fucked. That car accident would have killed anybody but me, and even if she was too drunk to know it was me she shot in the face, if it wasn't for my healing powers, I would have been dead. And like you say, I only have to worry about Wednesday."
"That's why I gotta get the kid back into rehab. Youse saw the shape she was in before; kid couldn't walk through those doors she busted out of a month later. They didn't know if she was gonna make it, or not. An' you know I had a bout with the Troubles, right?"
"How bad was it?"
"How fuckin' bad do you think it was? You saw her lyin' there in that bed at Hank's infirmary, dincha? It was one gorgeous week of the most pitifully disgusting shit I ever seen anybody do, along with three bar fights and a car wreck. Then, at the end of it, she goes off, alone, on some crazy suicide job, and staggers into my place at two in the morning with a fuckin' severed head in a duffel bag, draggin' her bad leg and bleedin' all over the place, all beat to fuck with her head nearly cracked open. She pulls out the fuckin' head, drippin' all over the place, an' I yelled at her about it and she picks up a glass ashtray and smacks me in the head with it. Lucky for me she was drunk and her aim was off an she only grazed me, because, otherwise, I'd be dead. If that kid don't get sober, she'll be dead."
"Whose head was it?"
"Kid crashed a Friends of Humanity meetin'. She hates those cocksuckers, an, well, you can understand why, even if she don't. Anyway, she saved some mutant girl's life, an' killed ten men with a .45 and an adamantium machete. Head belonged to the local head honcho. Motherfucker's the headless honcho, now."
The Comedian and Wolverine had a good laugh over that one.
"Well, I'll tellya what would make it healthier for you. Make it blood between you. Napalm, she's a stand-up broad. Her word means somethin' to her."
"You know how long its' been since I trusted anybody that much?"
"You're trainin' her to be your partner, ain'tcha? She saved your life, didn't she?"
"You gotta point, Logan. So, has that snooty red-haired broad come around, yet?"
"Jeannie? Fuck no! It would be different if I really didn't like Cyke. But I do. I mean I work with him, and we ain't what you call close friends, but we're friends enough, and he's a good guy. And he's, he's like our CO, yunno? So, not only do I feel bad about stealin' his woman, I feel obligated not to not steal his woman. An' then there's Jeannie. Sometimes, the way she fuckin' looks at me, you'd think I was made outa ice cream. And it's usually when I'm dressed in spandex and blood. She gives me that old red-headed hellfire look, not quite as hot as Liv, put plenty fuckin' hot enough. Makes me think Cyke doesn't do his duty all that often. That, and she hates my old lady. The only reason she don't hate Liv is because they went to school together."
"When you say your old lady, you mean that blond doll, the one with the Fritz name that looks like the broad on the beer bottles?"
"Yeah."
"Jesus Christ. How does a mutt like you get a broad like that? And the kid."
"I'm the only man on God's Green Earth that Mel's powers won't kill if he lies down with her. That and we gotta lot in common. We was born in the same town, and we both ride, an all. And Napalm, well, it's blood between us. That and she knows if she fucks up and kills me, I won't die. But it's you she's sold on, Eddie. You're the big, bad sunnuvabitch of a two-tone motherfucker of her dreams. And I don't think she wants to kill ya. Ever since she met ya, that's' all I ever hear about. Eddie, Eddie, Eddie. She wants to clean up her act so you don't kick her to the curb, and it ain't all because she wants ta be your partner. I think Napalm's got it bad for you. I mean, sure, when she's bad, she's lethal, but when she's good, she's good as gold and, fuck, who wants to live forever?"
Eddie slowed down as they began to approach the border.
"That's true, Jimmy. But, call me crazy, I'll wait till she gets outa rehab."
"Yeah. If I was you, I would."
III: Eddie
Eddie didn't consider himself a racist.
He was a Mick, after all, and a lot of people thought a Mick was lower than a Mex or a nigger, and he didn't give a shit if somebody was a Mex or a nigger or if they were white, it was all the same to him, most people were assholes no matter what they were.
So, he wasn't about to make trouble for these Mexes in their broken down old jail if they weren't going to make trouble for him.
The kid and Shellhead had done quite a number on the place, they had the whole roof covered with a tarp, and the local police captain wasn't too happy about a hole in his roof and a guard in the hospital, but the Captain in charge took the cash and shut his pie hole, especially when Eddie threw in an extra grand for him for his trouble.
The Captain gave them directions to El Toro Loco, and told them the place was a real dive; they made arrests there almost every night.
He also warned them to stay the hell away from all the women in the place; the women who weren't whores were all grifters and the whores all had the clap and the syph and God only knew what else.
From the outside, the place looked straight out of a Spaghetti Western.
A real good place to get into some bad trouble.
"You know what, Eddie? I been to this place before. I think it was right after the first war. Maybe 1920, or 21. The place was a shithole, then. I had about two shots of the local mescal and the next thing I knew I was roaming around naked in the street, bleeding from a buncha stab wounds that woulda killed anybody else."
Snikt!
"Sounds like the kinda place the kid would go to get sauced. I'll watch my ass."
The locals weren't used to gringo superheroes visiting, and in that Eddie came in with his guns out and Logan had his claws extended; they made quite an impression.
"We don't want any trouble. We just want to talk to the owner." Eddie said, in Spanish.
"I didn't know you spoke Spanish." Logan said.
"I learned it from a broad up in Spanish Harlem I usedta know." Eddie explained.
"I speak English, senor. Are you here about the little red devil who broke up my place last week?"
The owner, who had a kind of Pancho Villa look to him, but didn't seem like too much of an underhanded cocksucker, put a couple of Coronas and lime on the bar, and, warily, Logan and Eddie sat down.
Momentarily, they put away their weapons.
"What makes you think we'd be here about this girl, bub?"
"Because, to do what she did, she must have superpowers! You should have seen it. She came limping in, with this mean look on her face, and she sat right there and drank more tequila than a grown man twice her size could handle. I've been running this place a long time, and I know trouble when I see it, and trouble isn't always some big guy with a big mouth."
Logan laughed.
"Then what?" Eddie asked.
"Well, all that booze, it put her in a good mood, and she didn't look so mean. She had such a pretty smile, you could tell that she was really a nice little girl. She told me she came from the hospital and that they wouldn't let her have a drink, so she just came here to have a few drinks and a good time, and then she was going back in the morning. She was drinking with some of the regulars, buying for everybody, having a good time. It wasn't one of us who started the trouble. It was some gringo sailor. Big stupid pendajo who kept trying to get sexy with her. Finally, she had to hit him. And he was here with all his big, stupid pendajo friends. I liked the little red devil. I was going to get out my shotgun, and chase them off, but I didn't need it. What she did to them, you wouldn't believe, senor."
"I work with her, pal. I believe it." Eddie replied.
"Anyway, the whole place got busted up, and somebody called the federales. Not me. Your girl, she gave me some money to fix up the damage. I hear they got what the deserve, though, that she called the Iron Man, and he came and broke her out of jail."
"So, nobody put anything in her drink? Nothing like that?" Logan asked.
"No way. I watch her drink for her. I liked her. No offence to your friend, here, about his girl, but I had a good thing going with her, until those gringo sailors and the federales showed up."
Logan took a good look at the Mexican; he wasn't a tall guy but he was big, and rough-looking; he looked like a real tough sunnuvabitch who was somewhere in the neighbourhood of fifty.
Liv's type.
"Well, here's the thing, friend. There was another gringo in here, a couple of days before. He was a little shorter than my friend, and he woulda been well dressed. Kinda looks like a movie star?" Logan asked.
He knew Eddie wasn't about to inquire after Tony's welfare.
The owner shrugged.
"He might have been in here. I don't know."
A young woman who was behind the bar, washing glasses, stopped and turned around.
"I remember him! Don't you remember him, Uncle Alejandro?"
"One rich gringo looks like another."
"Not this one! He did look like a movie star. He was a nice man. But he got so drunk! And see those three witches over there?"
"Yeah." Logan answered.
The girl got him another Corona, and took it to a table, while Eddie continued to talk to the owner about Liv.
"They play up to gringos who are drunk and look like they have money, so they can rob them and leave them in the street. I didn't want him to go with them, but he was so drunk! I didn't want my uncle to know, but I went into the back with your friend, and I found out who he was. Everybody knows that Tony Stark wears a battery in his chest to keep his heart from stopping. It's been in all the magazines. I was going to let him stay in my room, but he wandered away. Out into the street. He fell down, outside and the light in the battery, it got dim. I ran to call for the ambulance, but when I got back, he was gone. I think the federales took him, and they didn't know about his battery! Is he alright? I got his watch, and his wallet, and his jewelry back from those witches. I even made them give me back his money."
"He's alright. If you give it to me, I'll make sure he gets it back."
Logan and Eddie had a few more beers, and paid for their drinks, and then split.
"Looks like I wasted your time, Logan." Eddie said, in the car.
"Well, ya never know. It coulda been somethin' big. I didn't think it was gonna be, though. What the fuck, I needed a little change of scenery."
"It was exactly what the fuck I thought! You heard what the Mex said. Kid was goin' back to the MORC. She prob'ly just busted out to prove she could do it, have a little fun on Cinco de Mayo, maybe get laid, then go back an' finish her last two weeks. But, then she gets mixed the fuck up with Shellhead. Well, if he wants ta go down the drain, let him, but he ain't taking my partner with him. I'll take youse back to the MORC an' you can take this car, if ya want an' go back to New York, or sell it an' go back ta New York, or try to get some money outa Nick an' go back to New York. I'm worry I wasted your time, Jimmy. Me, I gotta go get my girl away from that fuckin' drunk before he undoes alla good I been tryna do. Sunnuvabitch."
A very black look passed over Eddie's features, and the way he said "my girl" made Logan decide not to ask if he could come along.
He decided to drive the Roadrunner back to New York, he wanted to be as far as possible away from the coming explosion.
V: Pepper
Around 11:00 PM, Liv Napier was watching a re-run of Star Trek in bed with Tony Stark.
They had been working on the El Toro Loco case all day, and after a few hours of venery, they were taking a TV break.
Pepper could hear them talking through the door.
"You know, Napalm, I think I'm kind of a combination of Kirk and Spock."
"I can see that."
Meanwhile, outside in the living room of the suite, she was arranging the papers and folders that her employer had been rifling through all day.
The knock on the front door was so heavy and insistent that she jumped, and almost dropped the files in her hands.
"Just a minute!" she called and put the files on the table.
She looked through the peephole, and saw the Comedian in full costume, standing outside the door.
All six foot four and two-forty and two .45 caliber pistols of him, with a shotgun slung across his back and a bandolier of bullets across his chest like Pancho Villa, smoking a rather illegal Cuban cigar.
He didn't look too terribly happy.
Someone had tipped him off.
But who?
Liv.
She must have called him from the deli.
Just checking in with the boss to tell him she was okay.
Just calling to doom them all to the wrath of one of the most brutal men in America.
Make that one of the most brutal men in the world.
Ever.
Pepper had never thought faster in her whole life.
"Just a minute, Mr. Blake, sir! It's Mr. Stark's executive secretary, Ms. Potts. I was taking a nap on the couch and I'm not dressed! I believe he and Ms. Napier are working. I'll go check on them, immediately." she called.
"Fine. But I ain't got all day, doll." came the terse reply.
Pepper sprinted to the bedroom and opened the door, and was never so happy in her life as to see that Tony and Liv were just watching TV.
"Liv, your, ah, your boss, er, Mr. Blake is here."
Tony went a whiter shade of pale, jumped out of bed like it was on fire and started getting dressed.
"Eddie? What's he doing here?" Liv asked, casually, yawning and stretching lazily.
"Ripping my spine out, slowly, I expect! Or perhaps tearing my heart out and casually crushing it under his bootheels while I die, screaming! We were supposed to have more time, Pepper!" Tony said in a panicky voice as he zipped his pants and threw his shirt on.
"I know. I called him and told him what was goin' on. Eddie said he'd look into it for us. He prob'ly knows something. Why would he wanna kill you?" Liv asked.
Tony started throwing her clothes at her.
"Liv, you don't see the Comedian the way other people do."
"You mean the way criminals do? You're a mask, you got nothing to worry about."
"Normally, I would agree with you, but…there's no time to explain. Get dressed, Napalm, get dressed! You're not a man, you don't understand these things!"
Liv put her tank top and boxers on, and then her Levi's.
"Get your stuff! All your stuff! Is that all your stuff?"
"Most of my stuff is in the car, Tony."
"Good. I'm going to the office. I've been in the office all day."
"Whatever you say, man."
BOOM! BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!
"Kid? Hey, kid, it's Eddie. Open this fuckin' door!"
"Oh my God! Mr. Stark!"
"Don't worry Pepper. It's like Liv says. We're not criminals. We have nothing to worry about. Act natural. I'll bet he can smell fear."
Meanwhile, Liv was completely nonchalant.
It was just Eddie, after all.
"Keep yer dick in yer pants, Eddie, I'm comin', I'm comin'! Holy shit! It's not like I can fuckin' run, heah. " Liv bawled.
"She's not afraid of him at all." Tony marvelled.
"Exactly, Mr. Stark." Pepper replied.
Liv answered the door.
"Pepper, considering that I may be about to die, I want to tell you something."
"Yes, Tony?"
"I think your freckles are sexy."
"You're not so bad yourself, sir."
II: Eddie
The last time he saw the kid, she was in bad shape.
Real bad shape.
She had to stay at the X-Mansion infirmary for about a week before she could be moved to
the MORC in the X-Jet, and at that, they put her right in bed.
That was where she was last time Eddie saw her, sitting up in a hospital bed, acting brave and cocky when she was half-dead and facing drying out.
But, when she opened the door, it looked like the kid had lost her crutches somewhere along the line, but other than that she seemed just fine.
She was nice and clean and unharmed and there wasn't a mark on her and she was even fairly sober.
Smiling sunnily at him with her hair in two long red pigtails on either side of her head, with her hands jammed into the pockets of her Levi's, scuffing her feet in her old Keds against each other.
She was leaning on a cane.
"Hiya, Eddie. Nice ta see youse." She chirped.
She looked happy to see him.
Real happy.
He smiled at her.
Good.
Had he found her otherwise, well, busting out a few of Stark's teeth, and giving him a black eye and a fat lip and maybe a cracked rib, that was still one piece.
More or less.
"Hiya kid. Nice ta see youse in one piece. More or less. Time to go finish your last two weeks. Plus one for your escape routine. An' don't bitch, Nick wanted to give youse an' extra two weeks."
"But what about the guy who tried to kill us?"
"There was no guy who tried ta kill youse. Hiya Shellhead."
"Hello, Eddie. Drink?"
"Naaah. I'm drivin' tonight. Gotta take the kid back to the rehab joint. It's about an hour an' a half away. She ain't supposed to drive till her leg is better. She's supposed to be restin'. Siddown, kid."
"I didn't know that she was hurt that badly. When I found out, I made sure she got off her bad leg."
"Yeah. I'll betcha did."
A black look passed over the Comedian's features.
"I've got the manager tracking down a pair of crutches for her, but we did get this cane."
"What do you mean there was no guy?" Liv insisted.
"I mean me and Logan have been cleaning up your mess all day, kid. Foist, we stopped off at the jail where Shellhead made a nice big whole in the roof and you put a coupla beaner cops in the hospital. We made 'em the ol' offer they couldn't refuse. Take some nice, green American dollars and our promise that the Army Corps of Engineers will come down and fix the roof to forget the whole thing, or me and Wolverine will use them to decorate the walls in red. They took the dough."
"What about at the bar?' Liv insisted.
"We went there, too. Everybody was real cooperative. We didn't have to touch nobody. I gave the bartender a ten spot, an' he told me all about it while me and Logan had a Corona or two on the house. That Mex wasn't a bad guy. He wanted ta look after youse. Youse shoulda let him. If ya had, you would been back at the MORC by now. You came in there on Sunday night, loaded, had about five beers and four shots of tequila, and had a good time until you got into a fight with two or three sailors who tried to get wise with you. Ya tossed one through a window. Good thing for him it was open. Then you left a nice big tip, went outside and passed out in the street. Somebody called the federales, and they took you to the drunk tank."
As he spoke in his terse Brooklyn accent, the Comedian's words dripped with biting sarcasm.
"Oh." Liv said.
She didn't seem surprised, just disappointed.
"As for you, Shellhead, you was there on Saturday. Ya breezed in with your hands all over a coupla local broads who make their living rolling drunk gringos. Nice ladies, really. It's a more honest livin' than whorin', they tell me. The barmaid, though, she really liked you. You remember her, dontcha? She was the nice girl who let youse throw a fuck into her when you was drunk, an' she wanted to let you stay in her room, an' keep youse away from the broads who were trying to roll youse. You had other plans. When you rolled outa there and passed out and she saw sparks come outa our chest when youse hit the ground, while the others were robbin' your ass blind, she stopped 'em. She looked under your shirt and saw youse was a cripple as well as a drunk and she called an ambulance. But, while she was on the phone, you somehow got away. The federales at the jail found youse a few blocks over, lyin' in the street where they almost hit youse with their shitty little Mex cop car. They had no idea youse was a cripple, an' they didn't trouble to look, so they dumped youse in the drunk tank. The next day, they dumped my partner in, and she saved your ass, and youse guys came up with your nice little story, because you was too drunk to remember what happened and too ashamed of yourselves to admit it. The End."
The Comedian threw a paper sack down on the table.
"The nice Mex broad, she saved alla your shit for ya. I sure hope ya didn't give her a little somethin' ta remember you by, in about a year from now. But, in case ya, did, me an' Logan gave her your secretary's number, so she'd know where to send the papers for the paternity test."
Tony was so mortified, he couldn't speak.
Liv didn't seem fazed at all.
"Well, that's that, then. I guess Bruce was right, but, holy shit, Eddie, what a fuckin' trip! I busted outa a supposedly impregnable S.H.I.E.L.D. joint, and a Mex jail, and I got to go to Tijuana, and I saved Tony's life and him and me had a real good time here. You ain't sore at me, are ya, boss?"
"Naaah. Youse just wanted ta have a little fun before youse has ta get to work. But you shoulda waited till your leg was all better. Where's your shit?"
"Here."
The Comedian put the knapsack on his back.
"You ain't supposed to be on that leg without crutches for another two weeks, kid. Alley ooop!"
He picked Liv up with the same ease he had picked up the knapsack.
Liv got an angry, brutish, evil look on her face.
"Hey! Put me down. I can walk."
"Quit fuckin' squirmin, or I'll throw youse over my shoulder."
"You do that and I'll punch youse in the balls! I know there's a zipper behind that codpiece."
"Yeah, you spend enough time lookin' at it."
"Yunno Eddie, I don't appreciate you fuckin' with my shit like this! If you think-
"Hey, kid, ya know what? Shut the fuck up! Your ass is mine until I say it ain't! I'm your fuckin' boss! I'll fuck with your shit any way I want and if youse don't like it youse can go back in the gutter!"
"Oh yeah, ya fuckin' old bastard?"
"You want me ta show youse the ropes or not?"
Iron Man put his arm around his secretary, protectively.
"Pepper, if they start to fight, I'm going to pick you up and carry you into the bedroom, and then I'm going to lock us in and barricade the door."
Pepper rolled her eyes.
"They're not really fighting, Mr. Stark." She said.
"Yeah, I do. But you ain't gonna tell me where ta go an' what ta do and when ta do it, and youse ain't gonna get in my way of doin' my fuckin' job!" Liv snarled
"Hey, asshole, when ya work with somebody, that means that their fuckin' job is your fuckin' job! Your fuckin' job is my fuckin' job, now, and vice versa. It's called workin' together. Job's done. Say thank you, and let's go!"
Liv was about to say something, and then she reconsidered.
"No shit, Eddie, really?"
"Yeah, kid. Really."
"You mean the next time I go to the South Bronx to get ten baby-raping killer drug dealers to leave somebody's building and quit turning all the kids into junkies and puttin' all the girls on the street, I get backup? You're comin' with me?"
"Did I go with youse the last time?"
"Yeah."
"So what am I gonna say the next time? Fuck you, kid, have fun gettin' a new scar? I love workin in my own town, on American soil. Why the fuck did I put this costume on, anyways, yunno? Besides, you'll get hurt a lot less if ya got somebody watchin' your back. Right? Right."
"Hey, thanks, boss."
"You're welcome. Now, relax. Putcha head on my shoulder, hang on and quit squawkin'."
"Aw, fuck you, Eddie." Liv muttered.
Then she put her head on one of the Comedian's shoulders, and hung onto the other, yawning sleepily.
"Well, I gotta go, Tony. Seeya at Grossmann's."
"You know I'll be there, Liv."
"Nice meetin' ya, Pepper."
"You too, Ms. Napier."
The Comedian carried the Harlequin out the door and she closed it behind them.
Pepper Potts and Tony Stark fell onto the couch, sighing with relief.
"Well, I think that was beautiful."
"Excuse me, Mr. Stark?"
"Just forget for a minute that the Harlequin is a brutal alcoholic nymphomaniac called Napalm who has killed enough men to outfit a Marine battalion. Forget that the Comedian is, among other things, a government assassin, a one-man war machine, a brute and a laughingly amoral fascist, Forget that they are both shanty Irish thugs from Brooklyn, and superheroes. And what do you have? A damsel in distress, abandoned to her fate by cowards all, except one world-weary knight in shining armour, who has come riding to her rescue to save her. It's true, Pepper. Love does conquer all."
"Does this change your plans for Ms. Napier, Mr. Stark?"
"Certainly not. I still want her to come work for me. And it's just lovely that she's about to discover the big bad wolf of her big, bad dreams. But, I don't see either of them as the forsaking all others type. Like Liv says, she'll see me at Grossmann's."
"You are incorrigible, Mr. Stark."
"I know."
Pepper's heart was beating very fast in her chest, and there was something about narrowly escaping death that had a certain effect on Tony.
He moved a little closer to Pepper, touching his hand to her freckled cheek.
"I meant what I said about your freckles, Pepper."
"Oh, Tony!"
Pepper closed her eyes and then…
Then the door that neither of them locked banged open and the Comedian was in the doorway, alone.
"One more thing, Shellhead. I don't know about that kid yet. I'm not sure if she's the kind who hasta kill you after she kisses you, or maybe even before, an' I don't wanna find out the hard way. Besides, unlike you, I may be a lotta things but I'm not the kinda guy who's gonna fuck some alkie broad who's just a kid when she's usually too fuckin' drunk to know who's doin' what to her. I like that kid. She's a good kid. A nice kid. A real pretty little Irish girl. The kinda girl a big dumb Mick like me could get real attached to. You know. My girl. And, either way, if she plays her cards right, she'll be my partner someday. I owe that kid my life. And what I don't want, is some fuckin' snot-nose high-class trust fund degenerate motherfucker ever touchin' my partner again. Now, I'm gonna stop talkin, so you can take a minute, and gather youse thoughts together about what a good time you and the kid had."
The Comedian paused to drop his butt off in the closest ashtray and light a fresh stogie.
He walked over to Tony, and as he spoke, he poked his finger into the middle of his chest, making a clinking sound against the glass and metal housing of his chest plate.
"Okay. Now, you hold that memory near and dear to what youse got left of your heart. And the next time you think about it, and youse see her at Grossmman's, givin' you that look the kid gives every tough guy who's got a dick and a pulse and looks like they know how to use it, you think about this. You touch my partner again, you son of a bitch, I will rip your cock out by the fuckin' roots, an' soive it to youse for lunch. You get me? I'm a better man than you are, pal, and it ain't because I got a few inches on ya, all around, I'll bet. I'm a real man, and so's Liv Napier, in her own crazy fucked-up way. I'm a stand up guy. And she knows how ta stand up, too. You ain't, and you don't. You know why? Two reasons…"
"No, Eddie, but I think I can figure it out. There are certain similarities of-"
"Shut the fuck up, Stark! I used ta go drinkin' with Errol Flynn after the war, and you ain't no goddamn Errol Flynn. Now, like I was sayin', two reasons. I'm gonna tell you something, because Howard ain't around to do it. Your father was some kinda man, Shellhead. And when Charlie tooka piecea your heart in 'Nam an' it made youse decide to put that fuckin' helmet on, ya took your first step away from bein a little rich cunt punk ta bein' half the man Howard Stark was. The problem is the other half, the cunt-struck piecea shit fuckin' drunken asshole who thinks the whole world looks better after a fifth of whiskey and four or five beers. You're only half a man, Stark. The Iron Man half. The Tony Stark half is a miserable, snivelling little piecea shit drunk who thinks he's hot shit when he ain't nothin'. Without that fuckin' suit on you're a drunk and a cripple. Where did ya do it to her? Besides here."
"That's my personal…"
"WHERE?!"
"In the car. So what?"
"So what? You think every woman who looks at you sees James Bond? Or Robin Hood? How good d'you think you looked lyin' there sweatin' it out an ' half-dead with the shakes from not havin' a drink for three days? Like a movie star? Fuck you! And just what the fuck did the kid owe you, the guy who laughed her outa his office, and always looked at her like she was some dumb broad like every other piecea trash who sat on his dick? Nothin'. And what did she do for ya? She saved your miserable fuckin' life. Because that's what she does. When she sees something she's gotta do, the kid stands up. She stands up and if there's fuckin consequences, she takes the fuckin' consequences. You know how far down she was, just a month ago? She almost died. If you was ever that flat on your ass, you'd curl up an' die. Not the kid. She came alla way back. Not that you noticed. Not that if ya did know how sick she'd been, ya woulda cared. And what did you do? Ya got loaded. Ya got loaded up in the car on her booze and ya got her loaded up on her booze and ya had her pull over the side of the road and fucked her. The only thing you could think of ta give this woman who had every fuckin' reason to laugh while you died who saved your ass was a cheap drunken fuck in the back of her car? And you think you're a better man than me? Don't make me laugh."
Tony felt himself getting furious.
He wasn't about to let the likes of Eddie Blake talk to him like that.
"Yes. I do. Most men are a better man than you, Eddie. And if you're having some kind of problem at your age and you can't manage it with Napalm, there's doctors you can go and see!"
Pepper covered her mouth to keep in the scream.
She was so certain that the Comedian was about to pull one of his guns and make her employer's head into a canoe that she could almost hear Eddie Blake laughing as Tony's head flew in bloody bits of bone and brains all over the room.
The laughter was real, but there was no gunfire.
"I don't need no fucking doctor, asshole. As much as you drink, I betcha I have a lot less trouble gettin' my pump primed than you do. And this may come as a big surprise ta youse, but, I ain't fucked her yet. You know why? Because I'm man enough to know that kid needs a helluva lot more from a guy than just his dick. But since you think all a man is just a sack of meat that carries the cock around, and that's all you got to offer, you wouldn't know."
Tony, the man's an animal. But he has a point.
Shut up, brain.
"I see. And what was the second reason? Let me guess. When you get around to coming down off your high horse that you didn't seem to have handy when you attempted to rape the Silk Spectre, and deign to offer Napalm the endless joys of your favors, are you just going to be so phenomenal, so amazing, that every other man she ever had will pale in comparison?"
One more, Pepper winced, expecting at least an assault.
Once more, the Comedian just laughed.
"You said it, Shellhead. Not me. And if the Devil made the kid in Hell for somebody, it sure as fuck wasn't you, was it, punk? Keep your little wick outa my candle, Stark. Because you mighta been able to light that fire, but you're lookin' at the guy who's really gonna make it burn. You think you're the only guy in New York who fucks the broads you fucked? I've had a shot at a few of 'em, and after I get done with 'em, pal, they don't remember who the fuck you are. Well, I gotta go, I gotta plane to catch."
Then, just when Pepper thought it was all over, Tony did something that she thought was unbelievably stupid.
"Not so fast, you son-of-a-bitch!"
And he hit Eddie Blake.
Sucker punched him right in the face.
Hard.
The unch turned his haed to the side, but the Comedian barely flinched.
This time, as the Comedian laughed, he wiped at thin line of blood from the side of his mouth.
"Well?" an enraged Tony Stark insisted.
Pepper got up and threw herself between the two of them.
She knew the Comedian had no qualms about socking a woman, it was just the only thing she could think of to do.
"Don't hurt him! He doesn't know what he's doing, he's drunk, he's been drinking all day!" she exclaimed.
"Relax, doll. I can see that for myself. I ain't gonna hit him. You can go siddown."
Pepper stepped aside, but she didn't sit down.
"Boy, it's a good thing for youse that women who are better men than you are show up to save your ass alla time, huh, Stark? Besides, you call that a punch? You think I'm gonna throw down with some drunken cripple? I gotta admit, I came real close to fracturin' your skull when you started talkin' about Sal, but you ain't worth smackin'. Like the kid said, I'll be seein' youse at Grossman's."
Still laughing, the Comedian made his exit.
Immediately, Tony moved to fix himself a drink.
"Good save, Pepper. Although I could have taken him. I'm sure of it. Suit or no suit. Did you see that? The man's a menace. Insane. A real Neanderthal. Talking Napalm up like she's some Girl Scout who needs a hug and some milk to go with her cookies. Typical forties mentality. Women are either Madonnas or whores, and if she likes men she has to be a whore so he has to remake her into Sister Mary Lily-White. Chauvinist pig. Why, the very idea---"
"TONY!" Pepper barked.
He dropped the ice cube into the glass and froze.
"Tony, you are about as much a feminist as Winston Churchill was a Nazi! Will you please cut the bullshit! I never thought these words would ever leave my lips, but Eddie Blake was right! I've been wanting to say something to you all day about it! Liv Napier really is a very young girl. And obviously troubled. And also, obviously, she's hurt. Did you know that when she was rushed to the MORC from the X-Mansion she was deathly ill? She still drags her leg when she walks, even with the cane. Did you notice? Did you know she was an alcoholic? Did you know she was having emotional problems? Did you ask? Do you care?"
"Well, Pepper every mask in New York knows that. It's not as if she wasn't willing and—"
"Did it ever occur to you that willing or not, you were taking advantage of the poor girl?"
"The poor girl? Napalm?"
"Yes. Napalm! I am beginning to see why it is Mr. Wayne apprenticed his stepdaughter to a man like Mr. Blake. For all his faults, he can still see that Liv Napier is a, lost, troubled girl who is fighting for her life! She desperately needs a man to offer her friendship, and tenderness and some security and guidance and possibly even love before he offers her a drink and a…a ride on his dick! And if you weren't so drunk, yourself, all the time, you might have been able to see that! And a lot of other things. But I can tell by the look on your face that you have no idea what I'm talking about, so I'm just going to continue with things the way they are until I lose my mind or you end up in the gutter drinking rubbing alcohol! Good night, Mr. Stark!"
Pepper stormed out of the suite, slamming the door behind her.
Leaving Tony Stark completely alone.
"God damn you Eddie Blake, you crafty son-of-a-bitch! Look's like the joke is most certainly on me."
Tony fixed himself a drink and repaired to the bedroom.
He had his drink, and finished watching Star Trek, and then fixed himself another drink, and got on the phone.
"Hello?"
"Steve? It's Tony. Did I do the wrong thing, here?"
"You'll have to be more specific, Tony."
"About Napalm."
"Wrong? No. Irresponsible? Stupid? Beneath the lowest standards of duty a mask owes to a fellow mask? Yes. Defintely."
Tony swore to himself.
"We were just having a little fun."
"Tony, if you were sober enough to think rationally with that big brain of yours, you wouldn't think almost dying drunk in a rat-shit jail, or diverting an injured barely-legal alcoholic from finishing her rehab so she could look after your ass until Pepper showed up as fun. But, then again, I'll bet Napalm had a blast, too, so, don't be too hard on yourself."
"Tell me the truth. When I'm not in the suit, am I a disgusting shallow asshole who only measures his manhood by the size of his dick and how many notches there are on his bedpost who slides through life taking the easy way out because I was fortunate enough to have been born with money, looks, and genius?"
Captain America took a deep breath.
"Only when you're drunk, Tony. The problem is, you're usually drunk."
"I know. Look, I have to go. I have another call to make. You, ah might not be seeing me for a few weeks."
"Seven weeks, Tony. Maybe eight. I'll come visit you in the last three, when you're allowed visitors. Good luck."
"Thanks, Steve."
Tony Stark dialled Nick Fury's private number.
"Fury, here."
"Nick? Tony. I ah, I've hit the wall. I'm actually pretty fairly disgusted with my latest caper and the mess I'm making of my life. I'm not saying I want to quit drinking, but I do think I need to cut way down. How are you fixed for a new patient at Superhero General?"
"I can be at the MORC in three hours. I suggest you do the same."
"Great. I'll get Pepper."
Tony got on the phone one more time.
"Pepper, get dressed. We're packing. I'm going to check myself into the MORC and go dry out."
"Now?"
"Yes. Today is the first day of the rest of my life. I need you to help me pack."
"Of course, Mr. Stark."
"And when I get out, I'll do all the talk shows. Get me an interview with Barbara Walters. I want to cry on national television."
"Certainly, Mr. Stark. Tony, I'm so proud of you."
"Thank you. I must be out of my mind."
After he hung up, Tony looked at his drink, finished it, and decided that he was ready to go.