Adrian descended the grand staircase of the Stark mansion, and with each step, eighteen years of memories solidified in his mind like photographs developing in a darkroom.
The thing about having Batman's mental discipline combined with a ROB's reality insertion was that Adrian could actually *process* the downloaded memories in real-time. Most people would've been overwhelmed, lost in the confusion of two lifetimes colliding. But Bruce Wayne's training included techniques for compartmentalizing information, for organizing chaos into usable data.
So as Adrian's hand slid down the polished mahogany banister—a banister he'd slid down as a kid until Howard yelled at him—his mind was rapidly indexing everything he needed to know about Adrian Stark's life.
**Academic Record:**
Unlike Tony, who'd blown through MIT in two years at age fourteen like some kind of academic tornado, Adrian had taken a more... structured approach. Not because he wasn't smart enough—the memories made that clear—but because he'd actually wanted to *understand* things, not just speedrun them.
Age fifteen: Started undergraduate work at Columbia. Double major in Mechanical Engineering and Biochemistry.
Age seventeen: First doctorate in progress—Biomedical Engineering, focusing on the intersection of human enhancement and cybernetics. Basically trying to figure out how to make Iron Man suits but for people's *bodies*.
Current status: Second doctorate in Advanced Materials Science, because apparently Adrian Stark had looked at his brother's arc reactor obsession and thought, "But what if we made better *materials* for the reactor?"
The memories showed long nights in labs, equations covering whiteboards, the satisfaction of solving problems that had stumped people twice his age. Adrian Stark had been brilliant—not Tony-level "I-can-build-this-in-a-cave-with-scraps" brilliant, but methodical, thorough, the kind of smart that actually finished projects instead of getting distracted by the next shiny idea.
**Physical Training:**
This was where things got interesting, and where the tension had started.
Age six: Maria enrolled both boys in swimming lessons. Tony lasted three weeks before declaring it "boring." Adrian had loved it, took to it naturally, ended up competing at the state level by age ten.
Age eight: Howard suggested martial arts for "discipline." Tony learned Wing Chun from a instructor Howard hired, got decent at it, then stopped. Adrian... hadn't stopped.
Wing Chun from the same instructor. Then Judo. Then Brazilian Jiu-Jitsu. Then Muay Thai. Then Krav Maga. Then Boxing. Then Taekwondo.
By age fifteen, Adrian had black belts in four different disciplines and was training with professional fighters during summer breaks.
The memories showed Howard watching Adrian spar, arms crossed, expression unreadable. Showed Tony in his workshop, pointedly *not* watching.
Showed Maria, worried, asking Adrian if he was pushing himself too hard.
He hadn't been. Or maybe he had. The original Adrian Stark's motivations were complex—part genuine interest, part wanting to prove he could *do* something Tony couldn't, part trying to fill the space between himself and his distant father.
But the result was that Adrian Stark, at eighteen, was a legitimate martial artist with competition experience and training from multiple world-class instructors.
Combined with Batman's downloaded muscle memory and techniques?
*I could probably take down most of SHIELD's combat specialists,* Adrian realized as he reached the bottom of the stairs. *Not Captain America, obviously, but most regular enhanced agents? Yeah.*
**Family Dynamics: The Howard Problem**
This was the complicated part.
Adrian paused in the hallway, hand on the doorframe of the dining room, and let the memories wash over him.
Howard Stark had never been a good father. The memories confirmed what the MCU had shown—brilliant, driven, obsessed with his work, emotionally distant to the point of cruelty. He loved his sons in the abstract way someone loves a concept, but he didn't know how to *show* it.
With Tony, it had always been complicated. Howard saw his own genius reflected back at him, but also saw Tony's rebellion, his refusal to follow the path Howard had laid out. They fought constantly. Howard pushed, Tony pushed back harder. Maria played mediator, but it was exhausting for everyone.
With Adrian, though...
The memories showed Howard looking at his younger son—tall, blond, built like an Olympic athlete, brilliant but disciplined, respectful but independent—and seeing something else entirely.
Steve Rogers.
Not consciously, maybe. Howard would never have admitted it. But every time he looked at Adrian, there was this *expression*—like he was seeing a ghost. Like he was seeing the friend he'd lost, the hero he'd never stopped mourning, the man he'd spent forty years trying to recreate in a serum formula.
Adrian remembered being twelve, overhearing Howard on the phone with someone: *"No, not Tony. Adrian's the one with the potential. He's got the discipline. The physique. If anyone could handle the enhancement—"*
He remembered being fourteen, Howard taking him to a SHIELD facility, introducing him to combat instructors, scientists, generals. Showing him off like a prize.
He remembered being sixteen, Tony finding him in the workshop after one of Howard's "Adrian, come look at this" sessions, and Tony's face—trying so hard to look unbothered, to seem like he didn't care.
*"Dad's been in a good mood,"* Tony had said, too casually. *"Must be nice."*
*"Tony—"*
*"It's fine. Really. I'm happy for you. Someone should make the old man smile."*
But it wasn't fine. The memories showed the tension building, Howard's clear favoritism driving a wedge between father and eldest son that had been growing for years.
The fucked up part? Adrian—both versions of Adrian—understood *why* Howard did it.
Howard had spent forty years failing to recreate the super soldier serum. Forty years trying to bring back Steve Rogers, or at least make someone *like* Steve Rogers. And then his second son had grown up looking like a young Captain America, acting disciplined and heroic, pursuing both scientific brilliance *and* physical excellence.
To Howard, Adrian wasn't just his son. Adrian was *proof* that it was possible. Proof that the super soldier dream could work. A living reminder that maybe, just maybe, Howard could finish what Erskine had started.
It was fucked up. It was unfair to both brothers. And Adrian Stark had never quite known how to feel about it.
But here was the thing that mattered, the thing that shone through in every memory:
Adrian had never let it go to his head.
Every time Howard praised him, Adrian deflected to Tony's achievements. Every time Howard criticized Tony, Adrian defended his brother. Every time Tony seemed hurt by their father's favoritism, Adrian was there—not with platitudes, but with genuine love and respect.
The memories showed late nights in Tony's workshop, Adrian asking questions about arc reactor designs not because he cared about arc reactors, but because he cared about Tony. Showed Tony teaching Adrian advanced calculus at age thirteen, both of them sprawled on the floor with textbooks, laughing at inside jokes. Showed them covering for each other, lying to Howard about where they'd been, presenting a united front against their father's expectations.
Tony had never blamed Adrian for Howard's favoritism. And Adrian had never stopped looking up to Tony.
*That's real,* Adrian thought, feeling the weight of those memories. *That brotherhood is real.*
Whatever else was complicated in this family, that was solid.
**The Jarvis Factor**
And then there were Edwin and Ana Jarvis.
The memories of them were warm. Overwhelmingly warm.
Edwin—proper, British, utterly unflappable—who'd raised both Stark boys with more patience and wisdom than Howard had ever managed. Who'd taught Adrian table manners and how to tie a bow tie and how to be a *gentleman*, even when being a gentleman seemed outdated.
Ana—kind, fierce, protective—who'd learned to cook American food just to make the boys smile, who'd patched up Adrian's split lip after his first real sparring match, who'd told him stories about growing up in Budapest and made him promise to visit someday.
They'd been there for everything Howard had missed. First days of school. Science fair projects. Breakups. Bad dreams. All of it.
The memories showed Edwin, three years ago, pulling Adrian aside after a particularly brutal fight between Tony and Howard:
*"Master Adrian, your father's approval is not the measure of your worth. Do you understand? What matters is the man you choose to become, not the one he wishes you to be."*
Showed Ana, just last month, catching Adrian training at two in the morning:
*"You push too hard, dragie. Rest is strength too."*
They'd practically raised both Stark brothers. They were family in every way that mattered.
Which meant they'd notice if Adrian started acting weird. They'd notice if he suddenly started sneaking into Howard's office. They'd notice *everything*.
*Going to have to be careful,* Adrian thought. *Can't just Batman my way through this. These people know me.*
**The Plan**
Adrian's enhanced mind was already working through the logistics as he stood outside the dining room, listening to Tony and Howard's voices inside.
The super soldier serum research was in Howard's office. In a locked briefcase. The same briefcase Howard had brought home yesterday, the one he'd immediately taken to his office and locked in the safe.
Maria had made it clear: Howard's office was off-limits for the next two days. It was Christmas break—well, spring break in this timeline, but same principle. She wanted family time. Wanted Howard to actually be *present* for once, instead of locked away with his work.
Howard had agreed, probably because he was exhausted from the Pentagon meetings and wanted to bask in his breakthrough for a moment before diving back into implementation.
Two days. The office would be locked, the safe would be locked, and the whole household would notice if Adrian tried to break in during daylight hours.
But here was the thing about having Batman's skillset: Batman was very, very good at breaking into places without being noticed.
The plan formed in Adrian's mind with crystal clarity:
**Phase One: Reconnaissance (Today, December 13th)**
- Get through breakfast without arousing suspicion
- Spend time with family (genuinely—these were his last normal moments with them)
- Casual observation of the office area, noting guard routines, checking sight lines
- Locate the safe's position, assess the lock type
- Check Howard's schedule for the next two days
**Phase Two: Infiltration (Night of December 14th)**
- Wait until everyone's asleep (approximately 1 AM—the household runs like clockwork)
- Edwin and Ana retire to their quarters by 11 PM
- Maria takes sleeping medication for her chronic insomnia (the memories showed her prescription bottle in the master bathroom)
- Howard usually works late, but he's been exhausted lately—should be asleep by midnight
- Tony might be in his workshop, but his workshop is in the opposite wing
- Enter office through the window (second floor, but there's a decorative ledge that runs along the exterior—Adrian had climbed it before as a kid)
- Crack the safe (Batman's skills include lockpicking and safecracking)
- Photograph every page of the serum research (there's a camera in Tony's workshop Adrian can borrow)
- Study the research on-site to understand the formula
**Phase Three: Alteration (Night of December 14th/Early Morning December 15th)**
- Identify the key components that make the serum functional
- Create falsified versions of the critical pages
- Change just enough to render the formula useless—wrong stabilizing compounds, incorrect temperature thresholds, altered cellular binding agents
- Make sure the changes are subtle enough that Hydra won't immediately recognize them as fake
- Replace the original pages with the altered versions in Howard's briefcase
- Return everything to exactly how it was
- Exit without a trace
**Phase Four: Preservation (December 15th)**
- Hide the photographed research somewhere absolutely secure
- The house has dozens of places—there's a gap behind the baseboard in his closet, a loose stone in the garden wall, hell, there's probably a secret compartment in this mansion somewhere
- Keep original research safe until after the assassination attempt
- After parents are saved, "discover" that the research was compromised, forcing Howard to start over
- Hydra gets useless data, Adrian gets the real formula, everyone wins
- Except Hydra. Fuck Hydra.
**Phase Five: The Assassination (December 16th)**
- This was the tricky part
- Winter Soldier would ambush the car on the route from the Pentagon
- Adrian needed to be in the car
- Which meant convincing Howard and Maria to let him come along to DC
- Shouldn't be too hard—Howard had been hinting about wanting to introduce Adrian to some Pentagon contacts
- When Winter Soldier attacked, Adrian would have Batman's combat skills, peak human conditioning, and the element of surprise
- Bucky wouldn't be expecting a teenage super-soldier-in-training to fight back with martial arts mastery
- Goal: Disable Winter Soldier, get parents to safety, call SHIELD (the non-Hydra parts, ideally Nick Fury if he was around yet)
- Secondary goal: Don't die again
- That would be embarrassing
It was a solid plan. Multiple contingencies. Clear objectives.
The only variable was whether Adrian could actually pull it off.
*No pressure,* he thought. *Just breaking into a genius inventor's office, stealing classified government research, altering it without anyone noticing, and then fighting a brainwashed super soldier assassin.*
*Batman's dealt with worse. Probably.*
Adrian took a breath, put on his best "normal eighteen-year-old son" expression, and pushed open the dining room door.
Time to meet the family.
---
The dining room was exactly as ridiculous as one would expect from a Stark household—crystal chandelier, table that could seat twenty, actual silver silverware that Ana probably spent hours polishing.
Howard sat at the head of the table, reading the Wall Street Journal with his coffee, looking exhausted but satisfied. He'd aged since Adrian's—the original Adrian's—childhood memories. More gray in his dark hair, more lines around his eyes. Still sharp, though. Still present in that intense way Howard had when he was focused.
Maria sat to his right, blonde hair pulled back, elegant even in casual morning clothes. She was reading the Arts section, making notes on a charity gala she was organizing. When Adrian entered, her face lit up with that pure maternal warmth that made Adrian's chest tight.
*This is Maria Stark. This is the woman I'm here to save.*
Tony was across from her, not reading anything, just staring into his coffee with the expression of someone who'd been up all night and was deeply regretting his life choices. His dark hair was sticking up at odd angles. There was motor oil under his fingernails.
All three of them looked up when Adrian entered.
"There he is," Maria said, smiling. "I was beginning to think you'd died up there."
Adrian's step faltered for just a fraction of a second—*died, yeah, funny story about that*—but he recovered smoothly.
"Just admiring the ceiling. Did you know we have crown molding? It's very fancy."
Tony snorted into his coffee. "He's been weird all morning."
"I contain multitudes," Adrian said, sliding into his usual seat. "Also, I'm allowed to appreciate architectural details."
"You're allowed to appreciate arriving on time," Howard said, not looking up from his newspaper. "Your mother said breakfast was in twenty minutes. It's been thirty-five."
And there it was. The Howard Stark Experience™: Where Everything Was A Test And You Were Always Slightly Disappointing.
Adrian felt the original Adrian's instinctive response—apologize, deflect, make it better—but he pushed it down. Batman's training included dealing with authority figures, and Bruce Wayne had never been one to grovel.
"You're right. I apologize for making everyone wait."
Simple. Direct. No excuses.
Howard looked up from his newspaper, just for a second, with an expression that was almost... approving?
"Well. At least you can admit when you're wrong. Tony could learn from that."
"Dad," Maria said, voice sharp with warning.
Tony's jaw tightened, but he didn't say anything. Just took another sip of coffee.
*And there's the family dynamic,* Adrian thought. *Howard taking shots, Maria playing referee, Tony taking the hit.*
"Actually," Adrian said casually, reaching for the orange juice, "Tony's usually right about things. He's just right in ways that are annoying to other people."
Tony's eyes flicked up, surprised.
"That's not a compliment," Howard said.
"Wasn't trying to compliment him. Just stating facts. Tony's correct about approximately ninety percent of things, but he's smug about it, which makes people want to argue even when they know he's right. It's a documented phenomenon."
"Documented by who?" Tony asked, fighting a smile.
"Me. I've been documenting your insufferable correctness for years. I have charts."
"Charts."
"Color-coded charts. With annotations. It's very scientific."
Maria laughed—that genuine, delighted laugh that made Adrian's chest hurt because he knew she only had three days left of normal laughter before her life got turned upside down.
*No. Don't think like that. You're going to save her. That's the whole point.*
"How about we all appreciate that both my sons are brilliant and insufferable in their own unique ways," Maria said, "and move on to breakfast?"
As if on cue, Ana Jarvis entered with a rolling cart laden with food. Full English breakfast—eggs, bacon, sausages, beans, grilled tomatoes, toast. Edwin followed behind her with a fresh pot of coffee and tea.
"Good morning, Master Adrian," Edwin said in that perfectly modulated British accent. "I trust you slept well?"
"Like the dead," Adrian said, then immediately winced. *Poor word choice.* "I mean, very well. Great. Excellent sleep."
Edwin's eyebrow raised a fraction of an inch—the Jarvis equivalent of loud concern—but he said nothing. Just poured coffee for Howard, tea for Maria, and raised a questioning eyebrow at Adrian.
"Coffee, please," Adrian said. "Strong."
"Planning to stay awake for something?" Tony asked.
"Just the usual existential dread of being eighteen. You know how it is."
"I was at MIT when I was eighteen. Different kind of existential dread."
"Yes, we're all very impressed that you speedran childhood. Some of us prefer the extended edition."
"Boys," Maria said, but she was smiling. "Eat your breakfast before it gets cold."
They ate in companionable near-silence for a few minutes. Adrian's enhanced metabolism was already making itself known—he was *hungry* in a way he hadn't been in his previous life. Peak human condition apparently meant peak human appetite.
He was on his second helping of eggs when Howard finally set down his newspaper.
"Adrian," he said, and there was that tone—the I-Have-Something-Important-To-Discuss tone that usually meant either really good news or really complicated news.
Adrian looked up, making sure his expression was attentive but neutral. Batman's poker face was excellent.
"Yes, sir?"
"I want to talk to you about something. After breakfast. In my office."
Maria's fork paused halfway to her mouth. "Howard, we agreed—"
"I know what we agreed. This is important. It'll take fifteen minutes, then I'm all yours for the rest of the weekend." He looked at Adrian. "You're on spring break from Columbia, correct?"
"Yes, sir. Two weeks."
"Good. I need your perspective on something. Your biochemistry background specifically."
*The serum,* Adrian realized. *He wants to talk to me about the serum breakthrough.*
Tony's expression had gone carefully blank. That forced neutrality that meant he was actually hurt but would rather die than show it.
Adrian made a split-second decision. Batman's training included psychological profiling, reading people, knowing when to push and when to deflect.
"Can Tony sit in?" Adrian asked. "If it's biochemistry related, having an engineering perspective might be useful. Plus, he's smarter than me at pretty much everything except punching people."
Howard frowned. Tony looked surprised. Maria looked pleased.
"I don't think—" Howard started.
"I insist," Adrian said, voice firm but respectful. "If this is important enough to interrupt family time, then it's important enough to get the best minds on it. Tony's got insights I don't have."
"Tony's focus is mechanical engineering and physics. This is biochemistry."
"Tony's focus is being better at everything than everyone else. Come on, Dad. When's the last time he *couldn't* understand something you showed him?"
Howard was silent for a moment, clearly torn between his favoritism toward Adrian and his inability to deny that Tony was, in fact, a genius.
"Fine," he finally said. "Both of you. My office. After breakfast."
Tony met Adrian's eyes across the table, expression complicated. Part gratitude, part confusion, part suspicion.
*Don't mention it,* Adrian tried to communicate through eye contact. *That's what brothers do.*
Ana Jarvis, clearing plates, caught Adrian's eye and gave him the smallest approving nod.
Yeah. She'd noticed the family dynamics too. Of course she had.
They finished breakfast with lighter conversation—Maria talking about the charity gala, Edwin mentioning something about the garden, Tony describing a carburetor design he was working on that was apparently revolutionary but sounded like gibberish to anyone without three engineering degrees.
Adrian listened, catalogued, observed.
These were his last normal family moments before everything changed.
In three days, Winter Soldier would attack. In three days, everything would be different.
But right now, in this moment, the Stark family was having breakfast together. Maria was laughing at Tony's terrible jokes. Howard was almost smiling. Edwin and Ana were fussing over everyone with that particular brand of affectionate exasperation that only long-time household staff could manage.
*This,* Adrian thought. *This is what I'm protecting.*
"Adrian?" Maria's voice broke through his thoughts. "You're staring into space, honey. Everything alright?"
Adrian smiled. "Yeah, Mom. Everything's perfect."
And he meant it.
For now.
---
*Alright,* Adrian thought as he followed Howard and Tony down the hallway toward the office. *Time to see if Batman's poker face can survive seeing super soldier serum research for the first time.*
The original Adrian's memories supplied helpful context: He'd been in Howard's office exactly four times in his entire life. Once when he was six and had gotten lost in the mansion. Once when he was twelve and Howard had wanted to show him some SHIELD documentation. Once when he was fifteen and had accidentally broken a priceless prototype. And once last year when Howard had given him The Talk about responsibility and legacy and other things that were deeply uncomfortable.
The office was Howard's sanctuary. His private space. The place where he worked on his most sensitive projects.
Getting in there tonight for the heist was going to be challenging.
But right now? He had a legitimate invitation.
*Silver linings,* Adrian thought.
Howard pushed open the heavy oak door, revealing an office that was exactly what you'd expect from a genius inventor with government contracts and unlimited funding: massive desk covered in blueprints, walls lined with filing cabinets and bookshelves, a separate work table with what looked like prototype components, and—Adrian's enhanced vision catalogued it immediately—a rather obvious wall safe behind a painting of a tropical beach.
*Subtle, Howard. Really subtle.*
Tony entered behind Adrian, hands in his pockets, trying to look casual. But Adrian could see the tension in his shoulders. This was the first time Howard had invited Tony into the office in months.
Howard walked to his desk, unlocked a drawer, and pulled out a leather-bound folder. The kind of folder that screamed CLASSIFIED in red letters.
"What I'm about to show you," Howard said, "is sensitive. Government classified. You both understand what that means?"
"Don't tell anyone, don't write it down, don't talk about it in public, definitely don't sell it to the Russians," Tony rattled off. "We know, Dad. We've signed approximately forty thousand NDAs."
"This is more serious than previous projects."
"More serious than the arc reactor?" Tony asked skeptically.
"Different kind of serious." Howard opened the folder, revealing dense technical documentation. "This is forty years of work. My work, Dr. Erskine's work, every attempt we made at SHIELD to recreate the original super soldier program."
Adrian's heart rate kicked up a notch. He forced it back down using Batman's breathing techniques.
*Stay calm. Look interested but not too interested. You're an eighteen-year-old biochem student seeing classified research, not a ROB-inserted isekai protagonist who knows exactly what this is.*
"The Captain America program," Adrian said, keeping his voice neutral.
"Yes." Howard spread out several pages. "We've been trying to recreate Erskine's formula since 1943. Every iteration has failed. Until now."
Tony leaned forward, genuinely interested now. "You cracked it?"
"I cracked it." Howard's voice held quiet pride. "Last week. Final breakthrough came from understanding that Erskine's original formula wasn't just biochemistry—it was biophysics. The serum doesn't just enhance the body; it fundamentally rewrites cellular structure at a quantum level."
He pulled out what looked like molecular diagrams. Adrian's Batman-enhanced intellect analyzed them instantly, cross-referencing with the original Adrian's biochemistry knowledge.
*Holy shit. This is actually brilliant.*
The formula was complex—dozens of compounds working in precise ratios, catalyzed by what looked like a modified version of Vita-Radiation. But the key innovation was in the stabilizing agent: a synthetic polymer that bonded with human DNA at the atomic level, essentially rewriting the genetic code for enhanced performance.
"This is..." Tony trailed off, actually speechless for once. "Dad, this is groundbreaking. This is Nobel Prize level work."
"It's also extremely dangerous," Howard said. "Which is why I wanted to talk to you both."
He looked at Adrian specifically. "The Pentagon wants to begin trials immediately. Create a new generation of super soldiers for military applications."
*Of course they do,* Adrian thought. *Because the military-industrial complex never met an enhancement they didn't want to weaponize.*
"And you're against it," Adrian said.
"I'm... conflicted." Howard sat heavily in his chair. "This formula represents my life's work. Proof that Erskine's vision was possible. But Steve Rogers was unique. The serum amplified who he was—his goodness, his courage, his moral foundation. What happens if we give this to soldiers who don't have that foundation? What happens if it amplifies aggression, or violence, or ambition instead?"
"You get Red Skull," Tony said quietly. "Or worse."
"Exactly." Howard looked at Adrian again, and there was something in his expression—something heavy. "Which is why I'm considering a different approach."
*Oh no,* Adrian realized. *Oh no, he's going to—*
"I want to test it on you," Howard said.
The room went dead silent.
Tony's head snapped toward Howard. "What?"
"Not immediately," Howard said quickly. "Not without extensive preparation, safeguards, medical oversight. But Adrian, you're the ideal candidate. You're young, healthy, at peak physical condition from your training. More importantly, you're *good*. You're disciplined. You're exactly the kind of person Erskine would have chosen."
Adrian's mind was racing. This was... actually not in the plan. He'd expected to steal the serum research and eventually take it himself, yes. But having Howard *offer* it directly?
That was a complication.
"Dad," Tony said, and his voice was tight. "Are you seriously suggesting turning your son into a science experiment?"
"I'm suggesting giving him an opportunity. Adrian's brilliant—both of you are. But Adrian's also trained for this. Physically, mentally, psychologically. He's the only person I trust with this."
"That's insane," Tony said flatly. "That's—Dad, do you hear yourself? This is your son, not a lab rat."
"I'm aware he's my son. That's precisely why I trust him with this."
They were both talking about Adrian like he wasn't in the room.
Batman's training kicked in: assess, analyze, respond strategically.
Option One: Refuse outright. Might make Howard suspicious. Definitely wouldn't give Adrian access to the serum.
Option Two: Accept immediately. Too eager. Would raise questions.
Option Three: Ask intelligent questions. Act like a thoughtful eighteen-year-old weighing a life-changing decision.
"What's the failure rate?" Adrian asked.
Both Howard and Tony stopped arguing and looked at him.
"What?" Howard asked.
"The formula. What's the failure rate? How many test subjects died or were severely harmed in previous iterations?"
Howard's expression shifted slightly. "That's... classified."
"Dad, if you want me to even *consider* this, I need data. What's the mortality rate? What are the side effects? What's the success criteria?"
Howard was silent for a long moment. Then he pulled out another folder.
"Seventy-three test subjects over forty years. Fifty-nine fatalities. Twelve severe adverse reactions resulting in permanent disability. Two successful stabilizations."
"Two successes," Tony said. "Out of seventy-three."
"The others were using flawed formulas. This one is different."
"How different?" Adrian pressed. "What's your confidence level? Sixty percent? Eighty percent? Ninety-five?"
"I'd estimate... seventy percent success probability. Maybe higher with proper preparation."
"Seventy percent." Adrian let that hang in the air. "So there's a thirty percent chance I die or end up permanently disabled."
"Those odds would decrease with—"
"I'm not saying no," Adrian interrupted. "I'm saying I need time to think about it. This isn't a decision you make in five minutes."
Howard looked surprised. "You're... considering it?"
"I'm considering whether I trust your math." Adrian gestured at the molecular diagrams. "Can I review the research? Do my own analysis?"
"The research is classified."
"You just told me about it. If I'm the test subject, I should understand what I'm getting into. I've got two doctorates in progress, Dad. I can read biochemical formulas."
Tony was staring at Adrian like he'd grown a second head.
Howard considered, then made a decision. "Alright. You can review the documentation. But it doesn't leave this office. You study it here, with me present."
*Fuck.* That complicated the heist plan.
"Deal," Adrian said. "When do we start?"
"After the weekend. I need to meet with the Pentagon on the 16th—" *there it is, the timeline* "—but after that, we can go through everything properly. Give you time to understand the science."
"Sounds good."
"Adrian," Tony said, voice low. "Can I talk to you? Alone?"
Howard frowned. "Tony, this is—"
"It's fine," Adrian said. "Give us a minute?"
He didn't wait for Howard's response. Just walked out of the office, knowing Tony would follow.
They ended up in the hallway, far enough from the office that Howard wouldn't overhear.
Tony grabbed Adrian's arm. "What the hell are you doing?"
"What do you mean?"
"What do I—Adrian, Dad just asked if you wanted to be a guinea pig for an experimental serum with a seventy percent success rate, and you said *maybe*? Are you insane?"
"I said I'd think about it."
"There's nothing to think about! You say no! Absolutely not! End of discussion!"
Adrian looked at his brother—*his brother*, these memories were real, this relationship was real—and saw genuine fear in Tony's eyes.
"You're scared," Adrian said quietly.
"Of course I'm scared! You're talking about letting our father inject you with something that's killed fifty-nine people!"
"He's not wrong about me being a good candidate."
"I don't care if you're the *perfect* candidate! Adrian, this is—" Tony stopped, took a breath. "Look, I know you and Dad have this... thing. This Captain America comparison that he's always making. But you don't have to prove anything to him. You don't have to become an actual super soldier just because he wants you to."
"That's not why I'd do it."
"Then why? Why would you even consider this?"
Because in three days, Winter Soldier is going to try to kill our parents, and I need every advantage I can get. Because I died once already and I'm not dying again. Because the world is going to need heroes, and I can be one.
But Adrian couldn't say any of that.
"Because," Adrian said carefully, "if the serum works, it could help a lot of people. And because I trust the science. And because if I don't do it, Dad's going to find someone else—someone who might not have the moral foundation for it."
"That's not your responsibility."
"Maybe not. But it's still true."
Tony stared at him for a long moment. Then he shook his head.
"You're going to do this, aren't you? No matter what I say."
"I haven't decided yet."
"Bullshit. I know that look. That's your 'I've already made up my mind but I'm pretending I haven't' look." Tony's expression was complicated—frustration, fear, and something else. Something that looked like resignation. "Just... promise me you'll be careful. Promise me you won't let Dad rush you into anything."
"I promise."
"And promise me that if you do this, you'll let me help. I'll build you monitoring equipment, safety protocols, whatever you need. Deal?"
Adrian smiled. "Deal."
Tony punched him lightly in the shoulder. "You're an idiot."
"I contain multitudes."
"You contain a death wish." Tony started walking toward his workshop, then stopped. "Hey, Adrian?"
"Yeah?"
"Thanks. For getting me into that meeting. With Dad."
"That's what brothers do."
"Yeah." Tony's smile was slightly crooked. "Yeah, it is."
He disappeared down the hallway, leaving Adrian alone with his thoughts.
*Alright,* Adrian thought. *New plan: Review the serum research tomorrow with Howard present. Memorize everything I can. Then tonight, break in and get the hard copies anyway, because I need to be able to alter them before the 16th.*
*Also, figure out how to tell Tony that I'm absolutely going to take the serum, just not the way Howard thinks.*
*And definitely don't die.*
*Again.*
*That would be embarrassing.*
He headed back toward his room, Batman's mind already calculating angles, timelines, and probabilities.
Three days until Winter Soldier.
The clock was ticking.
---
Hey fellow fanfic enthusiasts!
I hope you're enjoying the fanfiction so far! I'd love to hear your thoughts on it. Whether you loved it, hated it, or have some constructive criticism, your feedback is super important to me. Feel free to drop a comment or send me a message with your thoughts. Can't wait to hear from you!
If you're passionate about fanfiction and love discussing stories, characters, and plot twists, then you're in the right place! I've created a Discord (HHHwRsB6wd) server dedicated to diving deep into the world of fanfiction, especially my own stories. Whether you're a reader, a writer, or just someone who enjoys a good tale, I welcome you to join us for lively discussions, feedback sessions, and maybe even some sneak peeks into upcoming chapters, along with artwork related to the stories. Let's nerd out together over our favorite fandoms and explore the endless possibilities of storytelling!
Can't wait to see you there!