"Sorry, sir. Do you have an appointment?"
In the lobby of Stark Industries, a security captain blocked Batman's path.
At the moment, Batman was dressed casually—plaid shirt, jeans, a backpack slung over one shoulder—appearing no different from an ordinary college student. He stood quietly beneath the towering glass ceiling, blending in perfectly with the flow of white-collar employees.
"I don't," Batman replied calmly.
Then he added, meeting the security captain's eyes:
"But if you're willing to take me to Mr. Stark, I guarantee that starting today, you'll be more than just a security captain."
The man frowned.
"And why would that be?"
"Because I've brought technology," Batman said evenly, "that can double Stark Industries' market value."
The security captain—Happy Hogan—hesitated.
This kid looked young, but his tone was composed, confident, and disturbingly convincing. Years of experience told Happy that truly dangerous people never shouted.
His gaze dropped to the black case Batman carried.
"What's in the case?"
"Just a computer," Batman said, opening it halfway. "No weapons. Only technology."
Happy studied the contents for several seconds. No explosives. No suspicious components.
Finally, he exhaled.
"Alright. I don't know what my boss will think," Happy said, closing the case, "but I'm curious enough to let you try."
He turned toward the elevator.
"Good luck."
---
The elevator rose smoothly, bypassing all intermediate floors and heading straight to the top.
The top floor of Stark Tower was both Tony Stark's private residence and his personal laboratory.
The moment the doors opened, the sound of music, laughter, and clinking glasses spilled out.
A private party was in full swing.
Batman stepped into a world of excess.
Models lounged on couches, champagne flowed freely, and holographic screens hovered lazily in the air. At the center of it all stood Tony Stark, wearing a bathrobe, a glass of champagne in one hand and a beautiful woman in the other.
Just as Batman's research had described.
A genius.
And a wreck.
"I distinctly remember saying no interruptions," Tony Stark said loudly, barely glancing over. "So unless you're here to bring me better alcohol or worse decisions—who are you?"
Batman didn't react to the chaos.
"Tony Stark," he said calmly, "CEO and Chairman of Stark Industries. Net worth in the hundreds of billions."
Tony raised an eyebrow.
"But despite all that," Batman continued, "you haven't fully inherited your father's legacy. The board still holds your leash."
"If they want, they can vote you out at any time."
"In other words—you're being used."
The room went quiet.
Tony slowly set down his glass and reached for the phone beside him.
"Happy," he said flatly, "come upstairs and remove the lunatic standing in front of me."
He waited.
Nothing happened.
"…Happy?"
Batman calmly took a seat.
"From the moment I exited the elevator," he said, "this entire floor's security system was overridden."
"You can't contact the outside world."
"And the outside world can't contact you."
Tony froze.
The joking expression vanished.
He rushed to his workstation and began typing furiously. After a few seconds, his hands stopped.
Then he laughed—short, sharp, and dangerous.
He clapped his hands.
"Party's over," Tony shouted. "Girls, one minute. Out."
The models didn't ask questions. They were used to Stark's moods.
When the last one left, the doors sealed shut.
Only two men remained.
Tony turned slowly, eyes sharp now.
"Alright," he said. "Who are you really?"
"And what do you want?"
"If you're here to blackmail me," he added, pointing behind Batman, "there's a drawer full of bank cards. Take them. Passwords are written on them."
"I'm not here for money," Batman replied.
"My name is Peter Parker."
"And I'm here to show you something."
He opened the case.
Inside wasn't just a laptop—but custom-built hardware, compact, powerful, and clearly not consumer-grade.
Tony gestured toward the massive screen on the wall.
Batman connected the system.
Lines of data unfolded across the display—dynamic models, adaptive responses, real-time simulations.
Tony's expression changed.
"…This is an AI model," he said slowly.
"Yes," Batman replied. "A functional one."
"I know you can't sleep at night, Stark. Your mind runs faster than the world around you."
"You don't need someone who says 'no.' You need something that says 'there's another way.'"
The year was 2006.
Artificial intelligence was still theory, ambition, speculation.
There was nothing like this.
If Stark failed to see its value, Batman would walk away.
Tony didn't blink.
"You came at a good time," Tony said, already pouring whiskey. "If you'd shown up two months later, I wouldn't need this."
That caught Batman's attention.
"You're developing AI too?"
Tony smirked.
"Of course I am."
"Jarvis," Tony said.
"Yes, sir?" a calm voice answered.
"Pour our guest a drink."
"I'm afraid I can't do that yet," Jarvis replied.
Tony sighed.
"See? Right now he's just a talkative encyclopedia."
"If I ask him to make coffee, I'll be cleaning the ceiling."
Tony handed Batman a glass himself.
Batman accepted it—but didn't drink.
He set it down.
"So," Tony said, leaning back. "What's the deal?"
"Selling this outright?"
"Or are you trying to attach yourself to Stark Industries?"
"I'm not selling it," Batman said.
"But I'll leave this system here."
"If you can crack the source code and replicate the core algorithm within one day, it's yours."
Tony stared at him.
"…And if I can't?"
"Then you hire my company as a technical consultant," Batman said. "And pay consulting fees."
Tony laughed.
"You're confident."
"So are you," Batman replied.
The deal was set.
Batman stood.
He had accomplished his purpose.
Mentions of Howard Stark, the Tesseract, and deeper matters would wait.
This was only step one.
---
Inside a taxi, Batman looked out at the city.
"Whether Tony cracks it or not," he thought, "it serves my next move."
"But I can't rely on him alone."
Back at the abandoned shipyard, Batman trained relentlessly until the sun disappeared beyond the horizon.
Weights slammed down.
Steel groaned.
Muscle memory refined itself.
As night fell, he donned the Batsuit once more.
His destination was clear.
Osborn Group.
Yesterday's silence was wrong.
With military protection shielding them, traditional exposure wouldn't work.
If the truth wouldn't surface on its own—
Batman would drag it into the light.
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