Batman’s Son in Marvel

In a sleek, modern laboratory somewhere in New York City, a blond-haired man stood by the window, gripping his phone tightly. His sharp features twisted with anger as he shouted into the receiver.

"What the hell did you just say?!"

His voice echoed through the room, sharp and filled with rage.

"Tony Stark escaped?!"

He slammed his hand against the table, the force causing nearby equipment to rattle.

"You incompetent fools! Do you even know what this means?!"

The man's breathing was heavy, his chest rising and falling as he tried to control his fury.

"Killian, we're partners, not your lackeys. Don't push your luck!"

The voice on the other end of the call was calm but firm.

But Killian wasn't in the mood for excuses. With a snarl, he ended the call and tossed the phone onto the table.

A faint glow rippled through his body, his veins lighting up with a faint, fiery red hue. The phone began to melt, turning into a pool of blackened liquid that hardened as it cooled.

Killian clenched his fists, his teeth grinding as his temper flared.

Tony Stark had escaped.

That bastard had slipped through his fingers yet again.

For years, Killian had viewed Stark as his greatest enemy—an arrogant genius who had humiliated him, overshadowed him, and stolen what should have been his.

And this time, he'd had Stark cornered, trapped in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by terrorists.

It should have been the perfect plan.

But no. Somehow, Tony Stark had survived.

Killian's eyes burned with rage as he thought about the man responsible.

Obadiah Stane.

Stark's own uncle had turned against him, feeding Killian information and opening the doors for the Ten Rings to capture Stark.

Yet despite everything—the meticulous planning, the bribes, and the weapons Killian had funneled to the terrorists—Tony Stark had still managed to slip through his grasp.

The more he thought about it, the angrier he became.

The glow returned to his body, and the temperature in the room began to rise. The walls nearest to him started to crack and blister from the heat.

"Killian."

A sharp, female voice cut through his thoughts.

He turned to see Maya Hansen standing in the doorway, her expression cold and disapproving.

"If you don't learn to control yourself, you're going to burn this place down—and yourself along with it."

Killian forced himself to take a deep breath, the glow fading as he exhaled.

"Sorry, Maya," he said, forcing a smile. "I just remembered something… unpleasant."

"Save it."

Maya didn't wait for him to finish before walking away, leaving Killian alone with his thoughts.

His smile vanished the moment she was gone.

As far as he was concerned, this wasn't over—not by a long shot.

Half a day later.

Killian sat at his desk, staring at a replacement phone.

His voice was cold as he spoke into the receiver.

"I want answers. How did Stark escape?"

The voice on the other end hesitated for a moment before answering.

"Someone saved him."

Killian's eyes narrowed.

"Who?"

There was a pause, and then the voice replied.

"Bruce Wayne's son. Adam Wayne."

Killian's fingers tightened around the phone, his knuckles turning white.

"The Wayne family…"

His voice dropped to a low growl, filled with venom.

He didn't even let the other person finish speaking before ending the call.

"Adam Wayne," he muttered, his eyes burning with hatred.

Meanwhile, back in Gotham City.

Adam had no idea he'd just made a dangerous enemy.

After returning from the desert, he was in high spirits.

Flying halfway across the world in the steel armor had been an exhilarating experience, and he couldn't deny the thrill of it.

Even though Skynet had handled most of the flight systems, the freedom and speed were addictive.

It didn't take long for him to make it back to Gotham and land at Wayne Manor.

As soon as he stepped out of the suit and into his lab, he was greeted by none other than Bruce Wayne.

"Adam."

Bruce's eyes immediately locked onto the suit.

"Is that what I think it is?"

Adam grinned and nodded.

"Yup. Steel armor. Pretty cool, right?"

Bruce stepped closer, circling the suit with obvious interest.

"Did you build this yourself?"

"Who else?" Adam smirked.

Bruce glanced at him, clearly trying to play it cool, but Adam could see the excitement in his eyes.

"You want one, don't you?" Adam teased.

Bruce coughed, straightening his posture.

"Ahem. I wouldn't mind taking a closer look."

Adam rolled his eyes.

"Just admit you want it."

Bruce didn't answer, but the slight twitch of his lips said everything.

"Well, lucky for you, I already made one. Come on."

Leading Bruce to the display room, Adam gave the command for Skynet to activate the showcase.

The walls shifted, revealing rows of sleek, advanced armors.

Bruce's eyes widened slightly as he took it all in, but he quickly regained his composure.

"Skynet, load armor model B132."

One of the suits, modeled after Bruce's bat-themed design, slid forward.

Bruce ran his hands over the armor, clearly impressed.

"Try it out," Adam said. "Skynet will assist with the controls, so you'll pick it up fast."

Bruce wasted no time stepping into the suit.

Within minutes, he was moving effortlessly, firing test shots at the range Adam had built into the lab.

Ten minutes later, he stepped out of the armor, looking satisfied but thoughtful.

"Well?" Adam asked.

"It's powerful," Bruce admitted. "The weapon systems are solid, and the AI is impressive."

"But?"

Bruce flexed his fingers, rolling his shoulders.

"It's too rigid. Too heavy. I can't move the way I need to in a fight."

Adam expected as much.

Bruce wasn't Tony Stark. He didn't rely on gadgets to fight—his body was the weapon.

"I'll see what I can do about it," Adam said, already thinking about improvements.

Bruce nodded and walked out, leaving Adam alone with his thoughts.

What he didn't know was that halfway across the country, someone else was thinking about him too—and not in a good way.

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