Chương 8: C-08
The night sky was quiet, the kind of quiet you only get thousands of feet up—a stillness broken only by the hum of the wind against me. I hung there for a moment, just above the clouds, watching the world below through my visor. Somewhere, someone was doing something stupid, and somewhere else, someone was suffering because of it.
That was how the world worked—chaos.
Until someone like me, or Ultron, or the others I knew would eventually step up, decided to push back.
"Bruce." Ultron's voice cut through the silence in my ear. "Tony Stark has escaped. I'm detecting his signal… and his improvised suit. Coordinates locked."
I sighed, half-expecting this. It's about time, Stark.
"Where did he crash?" I asked, already adjusting my course mid-air, cutting through the clouds with pinpoint precision.
"Approximately 43.215 North, 77.430 East… the desert. He's alone."
I didn't waste time. With a thought, my body accelerated, the familiar rush of the air roaring past me. There was no room for hesitation; Tony had finally made it out, but it didn't mean he was safe. Stark was brilliant but reckless—a double-edged sword that could either defend the world or cut it in half.
Minutes later, the desert sands unfolded beneath me, golden waves lit by a pale, cold moon. I spotted him immediately. The wreckage of Stark's makeshift escape suit lay scattered, parts embedded in the dirt. And there he was—Tony Stark, standing there, his shirt torn, face streaked with grime, staring blankly at the sky as if he'd seen God.
I touched down softly behind him, folding my arms as I smirked. Dramatic, as always.
He turned, eyes wide as he registered my silhouette against the pale desert horizon.
"Oh, great," he groaned, swaying slightly. "Am I dead? Is this Heaven? Are you Jesus?"
I couldn't stop the laugh that burst out of me. "Jesus? No. Sorry to disappoint you. I'm just the guy who's here to save your ass."
Tony squinted, still dazed. "…Save me? Where the hell were you three months ago, pal?"
"Three months ago, you were arrogant, self-absorbed, and needed a wake-up call." I gestured at the busted armor fragments strewn across the sand. "And this—this is your wake-up call. Trust me, Stark. You needed to learn where you were going wrong."
"Yeah?" he snapped, sarcasm thick even while exhausted. "Well, I learned sand gets everywhere. I'm practically marinated in it."
I ignored him and crouched down, sweeping my gloved hand through the sand. Bits of crude metal—scraps of Tony's escape suit—rose from the earth, hovering midair as I reached out with my telekinesis. Every piece came together like an invisible puzzle, floating as if the desert itself was surrendering them to me.
Tony stared, blinking like he couldn't believe his eyes. "What… what are you doing? Leave it. It's junk. Forget it."
I straightened and gave him a hard look. "Junk to you, maybe. But if this junk lands in the wrong hands, it's a problem—a big one. The suit you made? It could be a shield in the right hands… or a weapon in the wrong ones."
He flinched at that, silent for once.
"Now, come on," I added, letting the pieces hover at my side as I reached for him. He tried to resist, but let's face it—he was dead on his feet. With a flick of my power, I pulled him off the ground like he was a ragdoll. "Let's get you home."
He groaned, hands flailing weakly. "God, I hate this."
"You'll live."
It didn't take long to reach Malibu. Tony's mansion sat perched over the cliffs, the ocean beneath it roaring like applause. I landed on the balcony, dropping Stark to his feet. He wobbled, caught himself, then immediately scowled.
"Okay," he muttered. "I need a cheeseburger."
I raised a brow. "A cheeseburger?"
"Yes, cheeseburger. Preferably American. Preferably now."
I couldn't help but laugh, and before he could blink, I shot off the balcony. Seconds later, I returned, holding a greasy bag from Burger King.
"You're insane," Tony said, grabbing the bag and collapsing onto the nearest couch. He tore into it like a man starved—which, to be fair, he was.
As he ate, I leaned against the railing, looking out at the ocean. "Jarvis," I called.
"Yes, sir?" The AI's polite British voice filled the room.
"Call a press conference," Tony mumbled through a mouthful of food.
"Right away, sir."
Tony sat back, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. "I don't even know what I'm gonna say…"
"You'll figure it out," I said, crashing into the couch.
"What do you care, anyway?" he shot back, frowning up at me. "Who are you, and why do you care about what happens to me?"
I met his eyes and, for the first time, as my helmet retracted back into the suit. His jaw dropped. "Your just some kid?"
"The name's Bruce Wayne," I said evenly. "Owner of Wayne Enterprises."
"Bruce… Wayne?" He blinked, shaking his head as if trying to clear it. "Wait, the Wayne? Didn't I hear that name somewhere?"
"Yeah, you probably did, but unless it doesn't involve a woman, you lose interest faster than someone with autism and ADHD."
Tony scoffed, finishing his burger. "Now that is just cruel."
I leaned back, giving him the look he deserved. "Is it? Look, I'm not here to sugarcoat anything, Tony. You know what you've been. Arrogant. Self-centered. You've built a career out of being the genius, billionaire, playboy, philanthropist. But the weapons? That's where you crossed the line. You said it yourself—those creations of yours, they've done more harm than good. Destroying lives instead of protecting them. You've seen it now. You felt it."
Tony was quiet, staring at his glass like it might hold an answer.
"So, what will you do now?" I asked.
His voice came softer than I'd ever heard it before. "I... I plan to change the direction of my company. No more weapons. I just don't know what I'll do with the company though."
I smirked. "You don't need to reinvent the wheel. Just do what your father dreamed of. Howard Stark wasn't just a weapons maker—he was an inventor, Tony. A visionary. Didn't he try to build a flying car? He didn't get there, but that wasn't the point. He was looking forward, toward something better."
Tony looked up at me now, just enough curiosity behind the sharp exterior.
"So why not pick up where he left off?" I leaned forward, making sure he heard every word. "You're a man who can build anything, Tony. Instead of making weapons, make something that advances the world. Technology that changes how we live—energy, medicine, infrastructure. Things that heal. Things that connect. Things that protect without destroying. Better things."
"And what?" Tony quipped, flashing a half-grin. "You'll cheer me on from the sidelines?"
"Not even close." I met his gaze without hesitation. "I'll stand beside you. Work with you. Wayne Enterprises and Stark Industries—two companies with resources, vision, and the minds to pull this off.
I'm offering you a partnership, Stark. Wayne and Stark Industries. A company with two of the greatest innovators of our time, working together to make the world a better place."
For once, Tony didn't have a comeback. He just sat there, chewing on the idea. So, I pressed harder.
"Think about it. For the first time, you'd be building something that lasts. Something the world can look to and say, 'that's what Stark Industries stands for.' It's not about your past. It's about your legacy. So what's it going to be, Tony? Are you going to keep being the guy who destroys lives? Or do you want to be the man who saves them?"
The room went silent. He stared at me, brow furrowed, thinking. And for the first time, I saw it—just a spark. A hint of that genius brain working out the possibilities.
I gave him one last nudge. "Let's build the future, Tony. Together."
Tony looked down at the floor before shifting his gaze to me, then the suit—the scattered pieces of his Iron Man armor, discarded and lifeless. I crouched, grabbing the helmet. Its bent metal frame reflected the room's dim light. Without a word, I tossed it at him.
He caught it instinctively, fingers curling around the mask like it might shatter in his hands. He stared down at it. "You want to change? Then change, Tony. You said you wanted Stark Industries to stand for something better. So take the tools you already have—the brains, the resources—and become something greater. Someone greater."
I stepped back toward the ledge of the mansion, my cape whipping in the breeze coming off the Pacific. "Think it over," I said, letting the words hang in the air. Then my own helmet sealed into place with a soft hiss. The wind roared in my ears as I shot into the sky, leaving Tony Stark alone with his thoughts and his armor.
"Alfred," I said into my comms.
"Yes, Master Bruce?"
"Compile everything you can find on Obadiah Stane—his crimes, his connections. Send it to Jarvis and the authorities. But make it clear: I'll handle this myself."
"Consider it done, sir," Alfred replied smoothly.
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