The top-floor living quarters of Stark Tower.
New York lay in the afternoon sun beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows. Light streamed through the glass and fell across an expensive handwoven wool rug. Several unfinished sets of microscopic metal-fatigue test data still hovered on the holographic display.
Chen Xiao lounged on a broad leather sofa, holding a double cheeseburger. The beef patties were grilled just right, and juice ran down the edge of the greaseproof wrapper. He took a huge bite, the crunch of lettuce unusually loud in the quiet living room.
Tony sat at the bar opposite him with a whiskey on the rocks. He was still stewing over what had happened at the hospital that morning.
"I should've known." Tony swirled his glass, the ice clinking against it. "Happy hasn't even been claiming overtime pay lately. I thought he'd joined some new religion. Turns out he's been volunteering at the hospital to hit on a nurse. After I drop twenty million dollars on equipment, let's see how he keeps pretending he's broke in front of Nurse May."
Chen Xiao swallowed his burger and pulled out a napkin to wipe his hands.
"You just can't stand seeing anyone enjoy a few peaceful days," Chen Xiao said.
"I call it setting things right." Tony snorted and took a drink. "If word gets out that a Stark Industries executive is emptying bedpans, my stock will drop another two points."
Tony set down his glass and swiped open the virtual screen beside him. His frown deepened as he looked at the long list of documents awaiting approval. "And these disgusting politicians. Ever since they set up the Disaster Management Agency, they've been dumping every little thing on us. Blue Bell Ice Cream contaminated with Listeria? What the hell is that? Even the contacts we've