Batman’s Son in Marvel

Adam Wayne woke up late the next day, rubbing his eyes as sunlight streamed through the curtains.

It was already past one in the afternoon.

He'd been up all night, too excited after his discussion with Tony Stark. The experiments he'd run afterward had drained him, but the results were worth it.

Before he could finish the sandwich Alfred had brought him, the old butler walked in, his expression serious.

"Master Adam, something's happened."

Adam raised an eyebrow, still chewing. "What happened? Did something happen to Tony Stark?"

Alfred froze for a moment, genuinely surprised. "How do you know? Does this have anything to do with you?"

Adam rolled his eyes and set the sandwich down. "Alfred, do you really think that's possible?"

"Then how did you know?"

Adam sighed. "Grandpa Alfred, do you ever check the news on your phone?"

Alfred's face twitched. The old butler still preferred newspapers, and Adam knew it.

"It's all over the news," Adam continued, shaking his head. "And no, it has nothing to do with me."

Alfred looked relieved but still concerned. "Did you give him that gift I asked you to?"

"Of course I did."

"Then he should be fine," Adam said, leaning back and taking another bite of his sandwich.

In truth, Adam had already anticipated something would happen to Tony Stark.

Originally, he'd considered warning Tony outright not to go to that arms demonstration, but it didn't make sense.

They weren't close enough for Tony to take him seriously.

Hell, Tony would probably suspect the Wayne family of trying to edge into the weapons industry and sabotage his business.

Still, he couldn't let Tony walk into danger completely unprepared.

So, he had gifted him a new body armor prototype developed by Wayne Enterprises.

It was lightweight, made of ultra-fine carbon fiber, and thinner than a regular shirt—but it could stop rounds from an automatic rifle.

The kinetic energy might still hurt like hell, but it wouldn't kill him.

Adam wasn't worried about Tony wearing it, either.

He'd given Tony such a scare about terrorists in the region that the man had almost canceled his trip entirely.

And as expected, Tony was so paranoid when he arrived in the Arabic country that he ended up swapping body armor with one of the soldiers guarding him.

"Tony, what the hell are you doing? Are you trying to get heatstroke?"

Colonel Rhodes asked, clearly exasperated as he watched Tony fiddle with the armor.

"I'm just being careful, Rhodey."

Tony adjusted the straps. "This place is crawling with terrorists. You know they like bombs and guns, right?"

Rhodey rubbed his temples. "We're at a goddamn military base, Tony. You'll be fine."

"Sure, until one of these psychos gets creative."

Tony shrugged and then turned to his driver.

"Happy, you should wear one too."

Rhodey threw his hands up in frustration.

Eventually, he managed to talk Tony into giving back the military armor.

But Tony still refused to take off the body armor Adam had given him.

He felt better knowing it was there, even if Rhodey thought he was being ridiculous.

Once Tony relaxed, he focused on the missile demonstration.

His Jericho missiles impressed the military enough that they placed an order worth billions.

Tony celebrated by cracking open a bottle of wine and chatting with soldiers about the tech.

Everything seemed perfect—until it wasn't.

The explosion came out of nowhere.

One second, Tony was laughing with the soldiers. The next, a military jeep in front of them burst into flames.

"What the fuck was that?!"

Panic gripped Tony as gunfire erupted all around him.

"Shit! Ambush!"

The soldiers leaped out of the vehicles, weapons drawn.

"Stay in the car!" one of them yelled before disappearing into the firefight.

But Tony Stark wasn't known for following orders.

Ignoring the warning, he bolted out of the vehicle and ran for cover behind a rock.

His hands trembled as he pulled out his phone, trying to call for backup.

That's when he saw it.

A missile, pointed directly at him, marked with two familiar words—Stark Industries.

"Oh, fuck."

He turned and ran, but the missile exploded before he could get far.

The blast threw him several feet, and he landed hard.

Tony groaned, pain shooting through his body as he struggled to sit up.

For a moment, he thought he was dying.

But when he checked himself, there was no blood.

Looking down, he saw the shredded remains of his suit.

The body armor Adam had given him was full of embedded shrapnel—but it had done its job.

"Holy shit," Tony muttered, stunned.

If it weren't for the armor, he'd be dead.

"Adam, you're a fucking genius."

Relieved, Tony staggered to his feet and stumbled toward safety.

Unfortunately, his luck ran out.

Before he could get far, he felt a sharp pain at the back of his neck.

His vision blurred, and the world spun as he collapsed to the ground.

The last thought he had before blacking out was simple.

Arabic countries are really fucking dangerous.

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