After decades of scrambling through the underbelly of Gotham and crossing paths with countless alien civilizations across the multiverse, Batman had honed a near-supernatural ability to read people—or rather, any sentient being.
As long as his target possessed intelligence, Batman could dissect their personality and psyche from the smallest tells.
That was precisely why he had been willing to give Doctor Otto Octavius and Professor Adrian Toomes a second chance. He could see the remnants of conscience in them; they had simply lost their way.
It was also why, the very first time he met Wilson Fisk in the Osborn Building, Batman had unleashed his full power without hesitation, crushing the Kingpin in a single exchange and shattering bones in the process.
His decision to bring the young woman Alice on as an assistant at Parker Industries—and later promote her all the way to CEO—had been based on the exact same judgment.
Batman had no time to micromanage Parker Industries. Most days he was little more than a hands-off owner, leaving the lion's share of the work to Alice. The results proved she was more than competent.
By Batman's exacting standards she still fell short in a few areas, but he was willing to groom her, to let her grow until she could run the company completely independently of him.
That said, human nature being what it is, Batman had contingency plans ready in case Alice ever turned to embezzlement or incompetence. Fortunately, she never gave him cause to use them, and he was quietly pleased that those plans gathered dust.
Right now, dressed in a deep-brown business suit, Batman sat alone in the chairman's office of Parker Industries while Alice handled the day-to-day chaos elsewhere in the building.
His eyes settled on the envelope-sized package resting on the desk. He made no move to touch it.
He wasn't wearing the Arkham suit. He didn't have x-ray vision or scanning tech active. But the superhuman senses of Peter Parker's body—the ones that still answered even when the Spider-Man persona was buried deep—came through once again.
"No traps. No danger. Spider-sense isn't tingling…"
Even after confirming the contents weren't hazardous, Batman still didn't reach for it. Instead he pulled a small device from his pocket and set it on the desk.
One of his own designs, generations ahead of anything on the open market, it generated an absolute signal-dead zone. No transmission in or out, no tracking of any kind.
He normally used devices like this in the Batcave or built them into the Arkham suit. Today he needed it to make absolutely certain that if the package contained anything electronic, opening it as "Peter Parker" instead of "Batman" wouldn't accidentally blow his cover.
As for Parker Industries itself leaking anything incriminating—he wasn't worried. He'd long since prepared airtight cover stories for every patent, every production line.
Only once he was certain nothing could go wrong did Batman finally pick up the package and carefully unwrap it.
The outer wrapping was crude—just ordinary paper—but the box inside was exquisite. Deep violet-black with sharp, pale-gold patterns running along the edges. On the lid sat the unmistakable emblem of a panther.
He didn't need to open it. The patterns alone told him everything: this came from Wakanda. They matched the ceremonial garb T'Challa had worn the day they met almost perfectly.
The box was divided into three layers, each holding a single item. Beneath the bottom layer lay a handwritten note in elegant, precise script.
On the first layer rested a perfectly round bead the same violet-black as the box, unadorned and understated. The note beneath it read:
"A one-time communication channel, called a Kimoyo bead. Thank you for your trust and your aid, Batman. Should you ever require my help, use it. —T'Challa"
Batman had seen beads like this before. During the Silver Sable incident, T'Challa had worn an entire bracelet of them and used it to hijack Batman's comms frequency.
This particular Kimoyo bead had clearly been stripped of most functions; it would work only once, and only to contact the Black Panther.
Batman set it carefully beside the signal jammer, then opened the second layer.
Inside lay a chip no larger than a fingernail.
"All data on Wakanda's rapid-regeneration bio-gel. It cannot regrow lost limbs, but it dramatically accelerates natural healing of wounds and trauma."
The note T'Challa had tucked beneath it continued:
"When we met, you could have taken what you wanted by force. You chose not to. Whatever your reasons, you have my respect and gratitude. I hope this technology proves useful. —T'Challa"
Batman placed the chip next to the bead and opened the final layer.
At the very bottom rested an irregularly shaped slab of silver metal roughly the size of a palm.
"I spoke to my father about you. This is his gift, to further your research. Use it wisely."
T'Challa hadn't spelled it out, but Batman knew exactly what it was.
Vibranium. And far more than the finger-sized shard he'd once handed over to T'Challa—this piece was orders of magnitude larger and infinitely more valuable.
Batman arranged all three gifts beside the jammer, confirmed the box held nothing else, and verified that even the box itself was nothing more than traditional Wakandan paper with no hidden electronics or trackers.
Then he sat back in the chairman's chair and let the world's greatest detective mind run at full speed.
Twenty seconds later he had it.
Wakanda had no reason to send three separate thank-you gifts like this.
He hadn't returned that original sliver of vibranium expecting repayment; it had been payment of a different sort—currency spent to buy intel on Wakanda itself.
Yet here they were.
"They detected the isotopic markers I left on the original sample using chemical vapor deposition. They know I'm not just some brute in a cape—I have real technological capability."
"That explains the bio-gel. Technology for technology."
"The Kimoyo bead offers me one emergency lifeline… which means, given the strength I've already demonstrated, Wakanda believes there are still threats out there I couldn't handle alone."
"This world is far more dangerous than anything I've uncovered even by hacking S.H.I.E.L.D."
"That's the second, unspoken message behind the healing gel."
"And the vibranium…"
His gaze drifted to the palm-sized ingot.
T'Challa wasn't wasting resources. The original shard had supposedly been "stolen," so it had to be recovered. This much larger gift, however, was Wakanda making an investment—one that simultaneously removed any future temptation Batman might have to acquire vibranium through less savory channels.
They were bringing the entire vibranium question into the open, placing their bets on him, and tying off a potential loose end in one elegant move.
A triple gift, indeed.