Bryce Wayne and Selina Kyle sat in front of a large window, the skyline of the city stretching out before them. Selina lounged back in a plush chair, casually sipping from a glass of wine. Bryce, with her trademark steely composure, sat opposite her, looking every bit the formidable woman she was.
Bryce: So, Selina, enjoying the luxury life over here?
Selina smirked, swirling her drink before taking another sip.
Selina: Yeah, I'm having a good time. This city, the lifestyle... suits me except....
Bryce raised an eyebrow, sensing a hint of something left unsaid.
Bryce: Except?
Selina hesitated before leaning in slightly, lowering her voice.
Selina: Except for that maid Alex hired. She's beyond annoying.
Before Bryce could respond, a voice with a thick Cockney accent echoed from the hallway.
Molly: (shouting) I 'eard that, Miss Kyle! Keep yer insults to yerself, yeah?
Selina rolled her eyes and gave Bryce a dismissive wave.
Selina: Just ignore her.
Bryce was about to respond when her bracelet emitted a faint buzz. She glanced down as a familiar voice came through her transmitter, tense but controlled.
Alexander (voice over transmitter): Bryce, it's Alex. Dick and Alfred are at Stark Tower. Luthor might be targeting them. You need to get there, now!
Bryce's eyes narrowed slightly, but she remained composed. Selina, on the other hand, looked visibly concerned.
Selina: (worried) Are you going to go? I mean, that's your kid... and Alfred...
Bryce leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms nonchalantly.
Bryce: Nah, Alfred can handle it.
Selina blinked, incredulous.
Selina: (serious) But your kid's in danger, Bryce. How can you be so sure they'll be fine?
Bryce leaned back in her chair, taking a slow sip of her drink.
Bryce: (calmly) Trust me. Alfred can handle it.
Selina frowned, her worry deepening.
Selina: (skeptical) And how exactly are you so sure?
-Meanwhile-
Dick sipping his hot chocolate nervously as Mr. Negative stood at the front, commanding the room with his dark, ominous presence.
Mr. Negative: Nobody move!
Alfred, ever calm in a crisis, quickly assessed the situation. He turned to Dick, his voice steady but firm.
Alfred: Master Dick, stay here. Do not move. I'll be back shortly.
Before Dick could respond, Alfred swiftly stood and darted toward a nearby hallway. Mr. Negative, with his piercing eyes, noticed the sudden movement.
Mr. Negative: (pointing) Chase that old man! Don't let him get away!
Several of the armed terrorists immediately broke off and sprinted after Alfred. The butler, moving with surprising agility for his age, weaved through the corridors of Stark Industries. His destination? The secret weapons room.
Alfred pushed open a discreet panel near an industrial wall, revealing a hidden corridor. As he ducked inside, the sounds of pursuing footsteps grew louder. The seasoned butler didn't hesitate. He entered the secure weapons room, his hands moving swiftly over a keypad. With a hiss, the door sealed behind him just as the terrorists rounded the corner.
Inside, Alfred quickly scanned the selection of high-tech gadgets, his eyes settling on a pair of specialized energy gauntlets and a small EMP grenade. He strapped the gauntlets to his hands, tested their charge, and smiled grimly.
Alfred: (to himself) Time to show these ruffians that age comes with experience.
Outside, the terrorists banged on the door, trying to force their way in. Mr. Negative waited with his sword drawn, eyes dark with suspicion.
Mr. Negative: (muttering) What are you up to, old man?
Alfred, now fully armed, adjusted his tie, prepared to face whatever came next.
Mr. Negative, growing impatient as the pounding on the door yielded no results, sneered at his incompetent henchmen. His frustration reached a boiling point.
Mr. Negative: Out of my way, peasant!
With a single, violent shove, he pushed one of his goons aside and stepped forward. His eyes glowed with the dark energy of his negative powers. With a flick of his hand, he unleashed a powerful blast, striking the door and tearing it apart in an explosion of metal and sparks. Smoke billowed from the doorway as the once-secure barrier crumbled before him.
Mr. Negative: (shouting) Get in there! Now!
Without hesitation, the goons rushed inside, guns drawn, sweeping the room for any sign of Alfred. The space was dimly lit, filled with advanced weaponry, Stark tech, and hidden corners. The tension was thick as they moved cautiously, their nerves on edge.
Goon 1: (whispering) Where the hell is that old man?
Goon 1: (whispering) Where the hell is that old man?
Suddenly, a faint whirring sound echoed through the room. One of the goons turned just in time to see a sleek energy gauntlet powering up from the shadows. Before he could react, a blast of energy struck him square in the chest, sending him crashing into a wall.
Goon 2: (panicked) What the sh-!
Alfred emerged from the shadows, calm and precise, wearing the energy gauntlets. He fired another controlled blast, disabling a second goon.
Alfred: (coolly) I believe you gentlemen have overstayed your welcome.
Mr. Negative, still standing at the doorway, clenched his fists, his fury intensifying as he watched his men fall.
Mr. Negative: (growling) I'll deal with you myself, you meddling old man!
Alfred raised an eyebrow, standing his ground.
Alfred: (sarcastically) Oh dear, I do hope you're more challenging than your lackeys?
Mr. Negative: You're full of surprises for an old man.
Alfred, standing tall and calm, adjusted his gloves and straightened his posture.
Alfred: Experience and patience. You'll find those are qualities you lack.
-Back to Bryce and Selina-
Selina: (skeptical) And how exactly are you so sure?
Bryce smirked slightly, meeting Selina's eyes.
Bryce: (deadpan) I saw Alfred kill three men with a pencil when i was a kid. My father used to say that Alfred was an intelligence agent back in his youth. He'll manage?
Selina paused, taken aback by Bryce's confidence, then sighed, slumping back in her chair.
Selina: (half-laughing) Fine. You've convinced me. Guess Dick's in better hands than I thought?
-Back to Alfred-
Alfred calmly surveyed the scene as Mr. Negative's goons swarmed around him, their brute force no match for his precision and experience. With calculated strikes, Alfred took them down one by one, sidestepping punches and expertly delivering blows with the Stark-issued energy gauntlets. A swift uppercut here, a disarming twist there, and the goons fell left and right, groaning in pain.
One goon charged at him, swinging wildly, but Alfred ducked under his attack and landed a precise punch to the stomach, sending the thug reeling back into a pile of crates.
Alfred: (under his breath) Amateurs.
Just as he was finishing off the last of the goons, Alfred heard the distinct hiss of metal slicing through the air. He turned just in time to see Mr. Negative charging at him, his sword glowing with dark energy. The villain's blade slashed through the air, cutting the energy gauntlets right off Alfred's arms with a sharp metallic snap.
Mr. Negative: (snarling) You're annoying me, old man. Why won't you just die!
He swung again, but Alfred, quick on his feet, dodged with remarkable agility for his age. He rolled to the side as Mr. Negative's sword cut through a nearby console, sending sparks flying.
Alfred's eyes darted around the room, searching for anything he could use. That's when he spotted it: a peculiar weapon on a nearby table, labeled Pencil Rifle. A thin smirk crossed his face.
Mr. Negative lunged at Alfred once more, but Alfred deftly dodged the strike, grabbing the Pencil Rifle off the table in a fluid motion.
The device looked like an oversized, modified pencil, almost innocuous. Alfred glanced at it briefly, his experienced mind already calculating how to use it.
Alfred: (muttering) Ah, Master Stark always did have a sense of humor.
Mr. Negative: (furious) What are you going to do with that, old man?
Alfred cocked the Pencil Rifle, aiming it directly at Mr. Negative.
Alfred: (calmly) You'd be surprised.
With a sharp crack, the Pencil Rifle fired, launching a high-velocity "pencil" projectile straight at Mr. Negative's sword. The force of the shot knocked the sword from his hand, clattering to the floor.
Mr. Negative: (shocked) What?
Before he could react further, Alfred moved in, using the rifle like a staff to deliver a swift jab to Mr. Negative's midsection, followed by a powerful strike to his temple. Mr. Negative staggered back, disoriented.
Alfred: (smirking) Now, that's a weapon I can appreciate.
Alfred leveled the Pencil Rifle at Mr. Negative's head, the barrel glinting ominously under the factory lights.
Alfred: (firmly) Now, why did you attack Stark Industries just now?
Mr. Negative sneered, trying to maintain his bravado.
Mr. Negative: Never!
Alfred tightened his grip on the weapon, his expression unwavering.
Alfred: (threateningly) This rifle is made of positive energy. So tell me the truth, or you're going to find out exactly how positive it can be.
Mr. Negative's confidence wavered. He could see the determination in Alfred's eyes, and the stakes were suddenly very real.
Mr. Negative: (panicking) Okay, okay! It's Lex Luthor! He threatened me! If I don't work with him, he's going to kill my wife! She's a teacher!
Alfred narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer.
Alfred: And you thought attacking an innocent company was the solution? You've endangered lives for your own cowardice.
Mr. Negative, now visibly shaken, looked down, guilt washing over him.
Mr. Negative: (defensively) I didn't have a choice! Luthor has eyes everywhere. He knows everything!
Alfred considered this for a moment, weighing the truth of Mr. Negative's words.
Alfred: (calmly) And what would you have done if you succeeded in harming innocent people here? You'd have put your wife in even greater danger.
Mr. Negative looked up, fear etched across his face.
Mr. Negative: (pleading) I didn't want to hurt anyone! I just wanted to protect her!
Alfred's expression softened slightly, recognizing the man's desperation.
Alfred: (steadily) Then you need to help me stop Luthor. If we can take him down, your wife will be safe, and you can redeem yourself.
Mr. Negative hesitated, weighing his options. The Pencil Rifle remained aimed at his head, but Alfred's tone was now more like a lifeline than a threat.
Mr. Negative: (reluctantly) What do you want me to do?
Alfred: (firmly) We're going to work together to gather evidence against Luthor. You'll help us take him down, and then I'll ensure your wife is protected.
Mr. Negative nodded slowly, realizing he had no other choice.
Mr. Negative: (sighing) Alright. Let's do this.
Alfred lowered the Pencil Rifle, a small smile of satisfaction appearing on his face.
Alfred: (determined) Good. Now, let's get to work.
.
.
Inside the Iron Man armor, Alexander struggled to take a deep breath, the suit's internal systems buzzing in his ears.
Jarvis: (calmly) Sir, your heart rate is elevated. Heat levels are critical. You need to—
Alexander: (frantic) How long until the Armor MK II arrives?!
Jarvis: (hesitantly) O-
Suddenly, the suit powered down, darkness enveloping Alexander.
Alexander: (shouting) No! No! I'm stuck!
Panic surged through him as he felt the weight of the suit pressing down, memories of his kidnapping flooding back. He could feel the tightness in his chest, the suffocating dread returning like an old friend.
Alexander: (screaming) Help! Mom! Dad! Bryce! Somebody! Help me, please!
His voice echoed inside the suit, but there was only silence in response. The claustrophobia intensified, and he fumbled for the emergency release, but his fingers felt numb.
Jarvis: (urgently) Sir, you must calm down. Focus on your br-
Alexander: (interrupting) I can't breathe! I can't do this!
His mind raced back to that night Yisen's final moments, the sense of helplessness. Desperation clawed at him as he shouted again, tears streaming down his face.
Alexander: (voice cracking) I'm not going to die here! Not like this!
The darkness pressed in around him, but he fought against it, forcing himself to think.
Alexander: (determined) No... I will get out of this.
He took a moment, closing his eyes, trying to remember his training, the strength he had learned over the years. He focused on the sound of his own heartbeat, the rhythm guiding him back to himself.
Alexander: (muttering) Stay calm. You can do this.
As he regained control, he re-focused on his suit's systems, willing himself to find a way out.
Alexander: (to Jarvis) Reboot the system. Now!
Jarvis: (quickly) Rebooting... Standby.
The suit flickered to life, the lights slowly illuminating his surroundings once more. Alexander breathed deeply, feeling the weight lift just slightly as he found his resolve.
Alexander: (to himself) You've got this. One step at a time.
As the suit's systems flickered dangerously, Jarvis's voice cut through the chaos.
Jarvis: Sir, the suit is about to power off again. Energy levels critically low. You're in danger of being crushed.
Alexander felt the suit begin to constrict around him, the metal pressing in with increasing force. Panic flared again, but he pushed it aside.
Alexander: (shouting) Eject me! Now!
Instantly, the suit complied, launching him out just as the metal began to crumple under pressure. He flew through the air, landing hard on the ground a few feet away, breathless but free.
He watched as the Iron Man suit, his beloved creation, was crushed entirely under the weight of debris.
Alexander: (sighing) Man, I always loved that suit...
But before he could linger on the loss, a familiar whirring sound approached.
Alexander: (looking up) Nice!
The Armor MK II descended gracefully, its sleek design glinting in the light. He scrambled to his feet, feeling a surge of hope and suit up for the final battle.
Iron Man: (grinning) Let's do this!