Disclaimer: I do not, in any way, own any Marvel characters. I do, however, own this plotline and any characters I have created.

Yes, yes, I know I have another fic. The response for that one hasn't been very…good so far, and I simply couldn't resist this plotline. This is just a short intro to the two main characters more than anything! The next chapter should be up…soon. Sometime today or tomorrow, I should expect [:

"…and then, the damned doctor tells me I'm gonna die in two weeks. Two effin' weeks. So I look the damned idiot in the eye…and I tell him, 'There's no effing way I'm dying in two weeks.'"

"You sound like you have toilet paper stuffed in your mouth, sweetie. It's ruining your attractiveness."

Jordyn swiveled around on the chair she was sitting in. Her head lolling, she squinted at the man standing before her. The man peered at her through gleaming sunglasses.

"Listen," she drawled. "I got two damned weeks to live, so don't you tell me I sound like I got toilet paper in my mouth"

"Ooh, feisty. Are you saying that 'cause you're drunk, or are you drunk 'cause it's true?" he asked, sitting next to her. "I want bourbon—the best you got," he told the bartender.

"I'm drunk 'cause it's true," she replied sullenly. "I got two damned weeks to live, so why live the life of a saint?"

"Well said."

The mysterious man took a long swig from the glass and studied the woman again.

"So…why are you dying?"

"What, you don't recognize me?" Her words were slurred. "Jordyn Lynn Flick, the miracle survivor of the plane crash last week."

She threw her arms out, almost toppling off the tall bar chair.

"Little, bitty pieces of the damn bomb's in me, racing to my heart. So I tell the idiot doctor, 'You can't take the little bombs out?' and he goes, 'Not unless you want to die'. I'm gonna die anyway, so why not do it earlier? I tell the guy to just do it, and he tells me it's against the rules. What damned rules? Rules were made to be broken," she rambled.


"And then the damned fool tells me I gotta tell my family. What family? I got no stupid family. Hell, they disowned me years ago. So what do I do? I come here. I come here to get wasted, that's what I do. And now I'm telling a mysterious guy all about my messed up life."

"Tell me, Jordyn. Why don't you and I go to my house, and we can have some fun?" he suddenly asked.

"You got booze?"

"All the types in the world," he said, a wry smile tugging at his lips. "I personally don't drink it…"

"I'm goin' there for the booze, you hear? Not for your bed…"

With a groan, she tumbled off the chair. The man caught her neatly, gently helping her into a standing position.

"Oh yeah…" she mumbled. "What's your name?"

"Tony," he said, grunting as he lifted her into his car. "Tony Stark."