Chapter 120

New York’s morning sun shone brightly, the highways teemed with traffic, and sunlight glinted off the floor-to-ceiling windows of Stark Tower as Schiller sipped his steaming coffee.

Across from him, Stark was organizing documents; after a moment, he pulled out one sheet, shook it, and said, “Alright, I have to admit, your friend has some real talent—would he be interested in working at Stark Industries? I’ll give him a salary that satisfies him.”

“That’s probably difficult—he’s still in college.”

“So what? Peter’s still in high school too. By the way, which university? Harvard? MIT? Don’t tell me it’s Princeton.”

“It doesn’t matter. What matters is whether this technology helps you.”

Stark held up one of the design schematics and said, “Liquid armor is indeed a solid concept, but it’s largely constrained by materials science—we haven’t advanced our base materials to that level yet. The gel you gave me is strange… it feels familiar.”

“You don’t need to know the principle. Just know it works.”

“But I study principles,” Stark said. “You can’t just hand me a strange material out of thin air and demand I use it blind.”

“That’s a problem. You see, we’re not doing charity—everyone needs to support their families…”

Stark spread his hands. “Fine, fine, I get it. Let him name his price. You don’t need to dance around—just tell me outright.”

Schiller set down his coffee cup, turned his chair, and said to Stark, “The problem is—he doesn’t want money. He’s already rich.”

“Then what does he want?”

“He needs a technology. Don’t misunderstand—he doesn’t want your armor tech. He needs a satellite navigation system that can be commercialized, and more importantly, consumer communication devices capable of carrying it.”

Stark leaned one hand on his hip, the other on the lab bench, frowning. “Consumer communication devices? That’s odd. From what I see… well, I admit he’s a genius. At his level, commercializing shouldn’t be an issue—making a portable GPS can’t be that hard.”

“He wants more functions: an intuitive display system, input/output interfaces, interactive controls, communication capabilities, and some entertainment features.”

“That’s just a phone,” Stark said, pulling out his own—still the old keypad kind.

“Better than that. Use your genius creativity. Exhaust your imagination. Imagine the absolute peak of what a mobile device could do.”

“What does he need this for? A phone just needs to take calls. Add a navigation system—fine. Games and entertainment? Why not use a computer?”

“Just tell me if you can build it.”

Stark opened his mouth, then changed his mind. “Of course I can. What could possibly stump the genius Stark?”

He snapped his fingers. “Give me a detailed product spec, then I’ll give you a design. Then you give me all the data on the liquid armor and the raw materials.”

“Deal.”

Twenty minutes later, Stark watched Schiller still scribbling furiously, growing uneasy—but he had to pretend confidence, so he stretched his neck to see what Schiller was writing. It’s just a phone request—how could it take this long?

After what felt like forever, he couldn’t hold back. He tapped the table. “You’re not asking me to invent a spaceship, are you? What phone features could possibly take twenty minutes to write down?”

“No, no, no—this is only a small part…” Schiller put down his pen and handed the sheets to Stark. Stark glanced at them and frowned. “Tablet phone, full-screen display, octa-core processor, portable charging, open-source OS, UI interface…”

“You’re sure this is a phone? This is a microcomputer.”

“Now’s the test of your genius. You must condense nearly all the functions of a computer into a handheld phone—and not only ensure flawless operation, but also demand smoothness and aesthetic beauty in display and design.”

Stark rubbed his forehead. “That’s a high bar. I think your materials don’t fully compensate. Have him bring something substantial.”

“Don’t try to haggle. I know you just lack inspiration. Your technical level can handle all this easily.”

“Can’t you just get him to join Stark Industries? I’d even share my lab with him—we could develop these things together…”

Stark paused, then spoke hesitantly. “Alright, I’ll tell you this—but don’t tell anyone. Your friend has the same potential as the great Stark.”

“Of course, he’s still a bit behind me—but only a bit. I think we could be great friends, especially in research—we’d have endless things to discuss. So, can’t I meet him?”

Schiller heard the urgency in Stark’s tone. He understood. If Stark needed a true peer in intellect, someone his equal in wit and challenge, who else but Batman could fill that role?

Though Schiller could indeed transport beings between the two worlds, the risk was far too high—especially with two protagonists.

So he could only reluctantly shuttle between the two worlds himself, playing the role of a black-market trader.

Though Gotham and New York now stood separated by a technological gap—Gotham still in the 1980s, New York in the 21st century—Batman and Iron Man each had their strengths and could compensate for each other’s weaknesses.

Batman excelled in comprehensiveness: every piece of personal gear, base construction, strategic planning—he mastered them all. Stark, meanwhile, had reached unprecedented heights in mechanical engineering; any invention tied to machinery was child’s play for him.

Bruce was results-driven. Once he set a goal, his development speed was blistering, with outcomes often exceeding 200% of expectations. Like this time: the liquid armor Schiller brought Stark was the result of his research on Venom—he extracted a gel from Venom’s body, an active substance controllable via bioelectricity, and completed the entire process in under a month.

Stark’s strength lay in boundless creativity—he excelled at solving problems with wildly forward-thinking methods, and his temporal advantage gave him access to technologies far beyond those of the last century.

What more needed saying? Trade.

After Schiller gave him another refusal, Stark visibly deflated. He truly needed a partner who could share his intellectual spark.

Obadiah was still unconscious. Peter was too young and unreliable. Pepper offered emotional comfort but knew nothing of science. Schiller gave life advice but could only change lightbulbs. Stark had finally found someone who might match him in his field—and now that person refused even communication. No wonder he was disappointed.

If given the chance, Schiller wouldn’t mind building a bridge between Bruce and Stark. But the biggest obstacle was the differing time flow between the two worlds—remote communication was impossible.

Yet soon, Stark regained his energy, for Schiller assured him this collaboration would be long-term—both sides could exchange technologies indefinitely.

The prospect of continuously witnessing another genius's breakthroughs filled Stark with renewed passion. "Watch," he said. "I admit he's strong—but no one will ever be more talented than Stark. I'll prove it to you."

He shook the paper Schiller had written. “We start here. Go back and tell him—he’d better bring more genius-level results. Otherwise, I’ll shock him into shame.”

Schiller thought sadly: Batman's personality differed from Stark's. He didn't respond to provocation. If Schiller told Batman, "Someone's more talented than you," Batman would simply nod and agree—he wouldn't leap up like Stark, burning to prove himself superior.

If both were like Stark, Schiller would be overjoyed. He’d go back and forth, stoking each side’s rivalry—sparking a full-blown arms race between DC and Marvel.

Two super-geniuses would push each other to the limit, dragging global technology to heights where Thanos would weep and Babatose would cry.

Given the upper limits of these two men, it wasn’t impossible.

Soon, in Gotham University’s research lab, Victor held a stack of documents. “His application of energy is fascinating. It’s given me some inspiration—this energy conversion method could also be applied to weapons.”

Victor spun his pen. “Wait—I’ll get you a schematic… where is it? Ah, here. I originally planned to develop a cryogenic weapon, but I’ve been too busy lately to start the project.”

“Look—this is my Cryo-Gun. What do you think? It can freeze a person solid while preserving biological activity—ideal for subduing opponents without killing them. I think it’d be excellent for police and civilian use.”

“Actually, it was originally designed for medical use—a spinoff of my cryo-storage technology.”

“I turned it into a weapon because modern arms are too lethal. I’m a pacifist, you know. If a weapon can fully subdue an enemy without harming him, the chance of capturing rather than killing in war increases dramatically.”

On the other side, Stark, studying the cryogenic tech documents, said, “Interesting. Is this your other friend?”

“His cryogenic tech is indeed advanced, but I believe it should be applied to ecological fields—like large-scale weather control systems, or solving environmental issues like glacial melting.”