Batman and Iron Man: Black and Gold

Author's Note: This story takes places in a 'mash up' of the Marvel and DC superhero universes (e.g. the Daily Planet exists in Metropolis and so does the Baxter Building in New York) where superheroes are still a relatively new phenomenon. The characters are likewise a mixture of elements from comic books, television and film adaptations.

All characters, locations etc. are copyright of Marvel and DC.

Chapter 1: Holy Highway Heist!

'Are we... on schedule?'

'Don't trouble yourself, my dear fellow. The preparations are nearly complete.'

'You are sure... they can be... trusted?'

'Our friends from out of town? They have been well paid. Besides, they are more interested in studying the device and they cannot do that without my help.'

'But... once they have it? Our... bargain?'

'Patience, my friend. All this talk of betrayal! It makes me wonder: once you have what you need from me, will you fulfil your half of our bargain?'

'Yes, yes! Whatever... you want. Just get me... Stark's technology.'

'Soon, my friend. Very soon.'

'Mr Stark, allow me to introduce Bruce Wayne.'

Tony Stark clasped Wayne's hand and took stock of him. A vacuous, over privileged young man, his obscenely expensive dinner suit just failed to hide the slight paunch bulging over his belt. His square-jawed face was tarnished by the prominent bags under his eyes from too many long nights and late mornings. Stark relaxed. What woman would pick this seedy young fop over him, the best-dressed billionaire in the Western hemisphere?

'A pleasure,' said Wayne, 'This is Crystal.' He gestured casually to the blonde girl clinging to his arm. She had the body of a swimsuit model and the dead eyes of a goldfish.

'Tallulah,' said Stark, gesturing to the equally curvaceous and vacant brunette beside him. 'Jarvis, some more drinks over here!'

Stark's butler, a grey and anonymous man with a long, jowly face appeared at his elbow. There was a soft click as the tray of champagne flutes he was carrying bumped against an identical tray carried by Wayne's butler, Alfred.

'I thought you might require some refreshment, Master Bruce,' said Alfred. Stark and Wayne each took two flutes from their own butler, and then dismissed them. The two servants locked eyes for a moment, like tomcats squaring up for a fight, then disappeared as quietly and unobtrusively as they had appeared.

'It's so nice to see some new faces at these parties,' said Wayne.

Stark raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'Really? The only reason I'm in Gotham is to oversee the final stages of construction on the new power plant.' Wayne looked blank. 'The Gotham North plant?' said Stark, 'You know, the one my company outbid your company to build? You're not even a little bit sore about that?'

'Oh, Lucius handles all the business,' said Wayne, examining his cufflinks, 'I'm afraid I find it all rather tedious.'

'You're not... bothered that you don't have a say in how your company is run?'

'Not really. I have people to do all the work. I just turn up for the parties.'

In truth, it was not much of a party. It was a few drinks and a speech to celebrate the opening of Stark Industries' Gotham branch, to oversee the running of the new power plant. Wayne Enterprises had held a monopoly on all energy-related utilities in the Gotham area since Thomas Wayne's time, so Stark Industries winning a contract to install one of their cutting-edge arc reactors was big news. 'Pepper' Potts had persuaded Stark to make a trip to the east coast and make nice with the local high society.

'Love the new building. The decoration is... striking,' said Wayne, casting an arm expansively around the room. It was decorated in gold and vivid scarlet, with chrome for the trimmings. Black-tied waiters slalomed between the guests, a mixture of jowly old aristocrats and their wives and debonair young socialites, flirting idly with one another.

'These figures here,' said Wayne, pointing to the golden statues posed as if holding the light fittings above their heads, 'Your company mascot?'
'The Iron Man, yes,' said Stark.

The corner of Wayne's mouth twitched. 'How... charming. But he's not just a mascot, is he? Somebody told me he was your bodyguard, of all things.'

Stark kept his expression carefully neutral. 'That is his primary role.'

'And he's here tonight?'

'Iron Man is on standby, in case of emergencies.'

Wayne laughed. 'Emergencies? Is Gotham really so dangerous that you need a superhero on speed dial?'

'Your city does have a certain reputation,' said Stark, jaw clenched.

'Oh, it's horribly dangerous!' said Crystal, with a shudder, 'With all these wackos like the Joker and the Penguin running around. Why, last month –'

'Yes, Gotham does have some colourful characters,' said Wayne, patting her hand reassuringly, 'and any sensible man takes precautions. But a flying bodyguard? Forgive me. I don't much care for theatrics.'

Stark was about to say something impolitic when Wayne's butler reappeared at his shoulder, holding a cell phone.

'Forgive me, sir. It's the executive phone.'

Wayne sighed, made his apologies and slipped out of a side door, leaving a bewildered Crystal behind. Stark smiled and slipped his free arm in hers. His evening had just improved immeasurably.

'Have you seen the executive suite on the top floor? No? Great! Why don't the three of us take my privateelevator? I'm sure you two girls will get along just great. Tallulah is very open minded...'

Bruce Wayne stepped out of the atrium and into a side corridor. Anybody who had seen him a moment ago would have questioned whether it was the same man. The stooped shoulders, the vacant expression, the suggestion of flab beneath the tailored suit: all gone. Now he walked upright, clearly a man in his prime with the body of an Olympic wrestler, his eyes clear and purposeful.

He glanced out the window. A signal beam displaying the silhouette of a bat stabbed into the night sky above Gotham's jagged rooftops.

'Master Richard for you, sir,' said Alfred, handing him the phone.

'Dick?'

'Hijacking on Krol Avenue,' said Dick Grayson, on the other end of the line, 'Somebody busted into a depot, made off with a small fleet of HGVs. From the police chatter it sounds like they shot a security guard to get at them.'

'Where are they heading?' asked Wayne.

'West, towards the interstate. The cops are in pursuit.'

'Thanks. Stay on the computer. I may need you to navigate for me.'

'Will do. Good luck, Bruce.'

Wayne handed the phone back to Alfred.

'Will we be returning to Wayne Manor for the other car, sir?'

Wayne shook his head. 'It's too far out of the way. The safe house on 63rd is closer. Bring the limousine round to a side entrance. I'll change on the way.'

'Very good, sir.'

Wayne took a deep, cleansing breath. He could feel the fog of the party lifting as the adrenaline began to flow. Duty called.

The police only realised that Batman had joined the chase when his motorbike shot past them. Twin headlamps like bat's eyes gleamed out of its black hood. Batman rode low in the saddle, head down, his cape flaring out behind him like a banner.

He overtook the GCPD's patrol cars with ease, the bike purring softly. The convoy of stolen HGVs stretched out ahead of him. There were nine of them tearing along the highway. Batman saw the lead HGV come up behind a smaller civilian truck. The HGV's horn blared but the truck driver just waved him on, not realising the danger. The HGV accelerated, shunting the truck aside. The truck spun round, hit the metal crash barrier with a crunch and was then crushed against it by the second HGV.

Batman squeezed the accelerator. The rear HGV was directly ahead of him. He pulled left, attempting to draw alongside the cab. Suddenly the HGV swung to the left, trying to run him off the road. Batman braked, dropping back as the vehicle's cumbersome trailer lurched across, only to drift right and come up on the other side of the cab. The passenger window was open. Batman removed a smoke pellet from his utility belt and tossed it through the narrow opening. Thick white smog erupted inside the cab. Batman heard a voice cry. Brakes squealed. The HGV lurched to the right, much too suddenly for a vehicle of its size. The tyres screeched and the acrid smell of burning rubber filled the air. The HGV spun around, teetered for a moment on one set of wheels, finally toppling onto its side with a booming crash.

Batman did not stop to watch: he was already drawing alongside the next vehicle. One of the thieves, face hidden beneath a balaclava, was leaning out of the passenger window, staring in disbelief at the wrecked truck. He raised a sub-machine gun and opened fire on Batman. Bullets pinged off the asphalt. Batman touched a button on his dashboard. The hood of his bike expanded, raising a bullet-proof shield in front of his head. Bullets bounced off, striking red sparks on the black metal. Batman dropped back slightly, aligning himself with the trailer's rear wheels. He squeezed a trigger on the bike's handle. Three throwing stars zipped out of a slot below the bike's headlamps, shredding the tire. Batman drifted left, shredding the second tire with another salvo of stars. The trailer slumped back onto its rear axel. Sparks sprayed up onto Batman's bike as the unprotected wheels scraped across the road surface. The HGV began to lose speed. Batman accelerated again, leaving the crippled vehicle for the police.

The third HGV slowed down as Batman approached. The passenger door burst open. A figure in workman's overalls and a rubber gorilla mask leant out, balancing precariously on the footplate. It raised a cumbersome, oversized pistol in its free hand. A burst of bright blue laser energy shot from the muzzle, blasting a hole in the asphalt inches away from Batman's bike.

'Damn!' said Batman, swerving to avoid a second shot that would have vaporised his front wheel. He slalomed back and forth across the road, avoiding the gunman's wild laser blasts but failing to make any progress.

The masked figure lowered the pistol. Reaching into its overalls, it produced a round object about the size of a coconut. A pattern of bright yellow lines glowed across its surface. The gunman tossed it towards Batman then swung back inside the cab. The ball bounced along the road, making a whining noise like a kettle on the boil. Time seemed to slow down. Batman reached for his grapple gun. The ball bounced closer. Batman kicked off from the bike with both legs, leaping away from the ball. A second later the ball disintegrated, sending shockwaves shimmering through the air like ripples on a still pond. The bike shivered as the shockwaves washed over it. Smaller pieces began to fall away, nuts and bolts, then whole sections of panelling. In a heartbeat the entire bike, engine and all, had been shaken into its component parts.

Batman twisted in midair, fired the grapple gun at a lamppost and swung round out of the blast radius. He landed on the roadside beside the remains of his motorbike and watched the stolen HGVs disappear into the distance.

It was nearly dawn when the Batwing finally brought Batman back to the cave. Robin, still in his civilian clothes, was dozing gently in a chair next to the computer. His college textbooks were spread out across the keyboard. Batman felt a twinge of guilt that Robin had lost another night studying by waiting up for him. Even Bruce Wayne had finished college before he devoted himself to crime fighting.

'I told you to go to bed,' said Batman brusquely. Robin woke instantly, a talent he had developed over years of working with Batman.

'I wanted to make sure you were okay,' he said.

'I'm fine.'

'Do you want me to call Alfred?'

'No. He needs his sleep.'

'And you don't?'

Batman did not take the bait. He sank down into the chair next to Robin and pushed his cowl back, rubbing his eyes.

'So the bike's wrecked, huh?'

'Disintegrated,' said Batman, 'I had Jim put a cordon around the wreckage: I'll send one of the usual people to clear it up.'

'Sounds like they were using some serious weapons tech',' said Robin. He looked worried.

'It's beyond cutting-edge: I've only heard about weapons like that in theoretical papers.'

'So who could make one?'

'Palmer, Sivana, Reed Richards. And Tony Stark.' Batman activated the computer and began searching through the various databases.

'Stark?' said Robin, 'I thought he got out of the arms business a couple of years ago?'

'Maybe, maybe not,' said Batman, not looking across from the bank of computer monitors, 'He's hiding something, take it from someone who knows. And the site of his new power plant has been closed for months. I don't trust him.'

'You don't trust anybody. Do you have any actual evidence linking Stark to this robbery?'

Batman smiled grimly. 'Just this. Most of the thieves got away; the GCPD lost the convoy when they reached the interstate. But they did arrest the four from the vehicles I took down.' Photos of four thick-set, thuggish men appeared on the main monitor. 'I just accessed their employment records. All four were working construction at the Gotham North Plant.'

Robin gave a low whistle. 'Are you going to take this to Commissioner Gordon?'

Batman shook his head. 'It's circumstantial. I need something solid. I want to access Stark's records but that's impossible from here. I only made the link with these four because Stark farmed out his casual labour to a local company. His own records are much more heavily protected. I'll have to get physical access to his computers.'

'We're going to break into Stark Tower?'

'I am. I'll go alone, tomorrow night. It'll be easier on my own.'