"Almost Identical Twins."
Chapter 3
"The playboy that can fight."
Once he entered the big, spooky-looking mansion, Tony had to admit he was mesmerized at the mere size of this building, as well as its old-school design and furniture. It made him feel like he's entering a giant castle, like Disneyland, and is about to meet the king.
"So…Alfred, yes?" He asked, poking at some old-looking statue on the hallway.
"That is correct, Master Stark." The loyal butler kindly replied, gently moving the playboy's fingers away from the expensive artefact. "No touchy." He added, patting the younger man's hand on emphasis.
"Where does your boss buy all these old-school stuff?" Tony asked, looking at all the expensive carpets and paintings, decorating the golden colored walls. "Shouldn't half of those be in a museum, or something?"
"Those 'old-school stuff' as you call them, Master Stark had once belonged to Master Bruce's grand-grand-grand-grandfather." Alfred kindly explained. "Who purchased them when they weren't worth everything he owned, from artist that were begging for money to buy food, at the time."
Tony nodded his head, whistling.
"Nice… You know, my parents never invested in such thing. They were more concerned about being "new" with all the technology and culture stuff, and pretty much only had contact with historic artifacts when they donated a few bucks to the museum of the Second World War." He admitted with a small chuckle. "Yeah…my old folks only gazed forward, never looking back at the history that let them become rich, famous and…well…rich basically." He said, a sad smile playing on his face.
"Martha and Thomas wanted their son to grow up in an educational and cultured environment." The elderly butler explained. "Surrounding him with paintings with the signatures of the most famous artists in the world, was only the first step. Along came statues, old films, inventions and architecture plans that have been purchased by the descendants of the Wayne family, since its humble beginning. All took their rightful place inside the young master's room, where they watched over him even when he was but a wee baby."
Again the New Yorker billionaire whistled, imagining all the trauma the tiny Bruce Wayne had to go through being watched by the 'Scream' painting and its friends, since his early years.
He also silently thanked his parents for decorating his walls with 'Loony Toons' characters and wacky 'Donald Duck' scenes, instead of scaring him shirtless like Bruce's parents did.
As he walked through the hallways towards the room in which he was to meet the Crown Prince of Gotham, the billionaire noticed that a lot of the Wayne family was portrayed on the walls surrounding him. Beginning with the supposed creator of the clan Victor and his wife Teresa, and ending with the last descendants, Martha and Thomas.
Apparently you had to be married and have a born heir, in order to have your portrait on the 'Wayne Hall of Fame', since Bruce wasn't among the elder members of his clan.
Tony looked at all the serious faces that were scowling at him from the wooden frames, as if he was a small child that was spotted with his hand in the cookie jar, and imagined just how tiring it probably was for them to keep making the same facial expression every time they went to the painter.
He cringed.
That must have been hell for the facial muscles.
Again he thanked his parents for not taking the same way of tradition and forcing him to face the angry, disappointed glares of his ancestors, every time he went to the toilet.
The only ones who seemed to break the 'look-stern-and-super-serious' routine were his fellow billionaire's parents.
Martha and Thomas were smiling at the iron hero with twinkling eyes and cheeks red from laughter, creating a nice, unique change to the harsh glares of the other family members.
"Isn't that a bit wired that our moms have the same name?" Tony asked out of the sudden, still looking at the beautiful woman from the portrait, whose beauty could rival that of his own mother. "I mean…Martha might not be the most unique name out there, but two of the richest men alive having to share mother names? It seems a bit unlikely." He then chuckled. "The only way to make this even more ridiculously unlikely, is for Superman's earth mom to have the same name." Tony then turned to Alfred with a serious look on his face. "She doesn't, does she?"
"I'm afraid I do not possess the information you seek, Master Stark." The elderly butler informed him, while he turned the doorknob to the room they were due to enter. "Superman isn't very liked in this part of the world, ever since he threw out Gotham's hero out of his own Spaceship. If you want that kind of information I suggest you go ask Lois Lane in Metropolis or the other option who seems to know everything about everyone."
Tony smirked.
"You mean the Bat?"
Alfred smiled a small smile and nodded.
Iron Man chuckled.
"Figured he'd be the one who know. Wouldn't be surprised if he knew who assassinated J.F Kennedy." He joked, winking at the graying butler. "The problem is…the flying rat doesn't give his phone number to just about anyone."
"Oh I wouldn't worry about that, Master Stark." Alfred smiled. "I'm sure he'll find you." He then opened the door and Tony Stark was met with a scene taken straight from one of the ninja movies, he likes to watch with Thor and Clint.
Twenty something ninjas, armored with katanas, sais, nunchucks, bo-staffs and kunai knives, were surrounding a single shinobi, armed with a single tanto sword, with a blue ribbon tied around his elbow and a cloth tied around his eyes.
For a moment no one moved, stilling the moment like a paused video, and for a split second it was so quiet Iron Man forgot how to breathe.
Then, on an unspoken command, the surrounding ninjas attacked simultaneously, like a well-oiled machine of death, moving faster than any of those actors in the movies Clint enjoys so much.
The fight was going on so quickly Tony had to make himself stop blinking entirely, to avoid missing all the good parts.
And was shocked at what he saw.
The surrounded ninja moved with the grace and style that could rival that of Steve Rogers, looked to possess training that would put Black Widow to shame, his speed in throwing punches and kicks seemed equal to that of boxer on caffeine and a calculated mind that could give any chess master, a run for his money.
He predicted every move his opponents threw at him, without being able to see. Always being three steps ahead from his opponents. Looked to be winning despite the disadvantage of being outnumbered and outclassed when it came to weaponry.
And, like in true ninja style, the battle was over in mere minutes, with the attacking ninjas all laying on the ground, beaten and groaning, and the blind sighted ninja standing in a battle position.
Now this, Tony though as he forced his mouth to close. Is what I call a perfect candidate for the Avengers.
He only wondered which one of the poor padawan learners was the Gotham Prince, since he seemed to come in the middle of a martial arts practice that the fellow playboy filled his free time with.
"Training successful, Master Wayne?" Alfred suddenly asked and Tony looked around the defeated grunts for a groan as a response, or at least a moan.
What came instead surprised him more than the fact that he survived the end of Loki's invasion.
"Appears so, Alfred." The surrounded ninja answered, pulling off the typical ninja mask and reveling the most popular face in all of Gotham. "I still need to correct my elbows, they have the tendency of slipping. And my reaction time and footwork could be a lot better. Other than that, I think I'm progressing satisfactory."
"I'm glad you're getting better, Master Wayne." The old butler smiled at his young master. "But I'm afraid your training session needs to be cut short. You have a guest."
"Ah yes." Bruce said, wiping his hair with a fresh towel. "Mister Stark from New York. To what do I owe this unexpected visit?"
Tony never stopped staring.
