Chapter Text
Tony doesn't like Metropolis. It's too clean, and the speed limit's too low. He doesn't like the people.
Or rather, he doesn't like the people he gets to meet, when business drags him into the city. He doesn't see why he should go to tedious charity balls with Metropolis high society when he can be just as bored back on the West Coast, and he doesn't have to avoid -
"You don't like being upstaged by Luthor," mutters a voice at his side.
"You're doing that mind-reading thing again, Pepper."
"We can always invite him to that thing with those people."
"Why haven't I fired you?"
"You must be getting sentimental in your old age,' says Pepper. Then, apropos nothing at all, she adds, "Mr Wayne is here."
Tony's seen Bruce already, standing with his arms round the waists of a perfectly matched pair of blondes, champagne in one hand and a sloppy grin on his face. Someone else to avoid making small talk with - he looks at Bruce and sees himself, five years ago. Five months ago.
"...last week," says Pepper, and he glares at her, only to realise she's looking at someone else. "I could have sworn he'd gone back to Australia. If I'd known, I would have -"
Fischer. Oh, now it's a party. Tony grins. "I should go say hi. Say thank you."
"Tony -" He puts a gaggle of Metropolis matriarchs between himself and Pepper before she can finish that remonstration.
~
Bruce dislikes Metropolis. It is too bright, too exposed. His lies seem to stand out more, held in sharp relief in the city's clear sunlight.
He is too far from home.
"What's that, darling?" he says to the shrieking blonde on his right.
"I can't believe you know the Lex Luthor!" Her eyes are wide, and not entirely focussed.
He glances at Lex, holding court in the centre of the room. In Metropolis, there are no shadows to hide in. Luthor plays that to his advantage - he is always visible.
Bruce grins at the blonde. "Yeah? We go way back. I bought one of his companies. Or he bought one of mine, I forget which. It's -" He rolls his eyes for emphasis. "Business, y'know?"
For that, he gets giggles in stereo.
He catches sight of a face in profile, a glimpse before the monied crowd shifts. For a moment his heart races, memory kicking his instincts into gear, until the crowd parts again, and the face resolves into a different memory. Fischer. The same sharp lines as Crane, but gentled by an easy life and a fortunate lack of psychosis.
The blondes are staring at him. "What's wrong?" asks the one on the left.
"We - need more champagne." He squeezes her waist, to provoke anther shriek, and spins them both away from him, raising their hands to his mouth in turn. "You stay right here, and I will be right back."
~
Robert has always liked Metropolis. Its energy and optimism is refreshing after weeks in lawyers' offices and courtrooms from LA to Singapore.
If Metropolis business wasn't so dominated by LexCorp, Robert might have considered this city as the place to start over. As it is, he's happy enough to spend a few idle days in her sunny parks and elegant museums. He hasn't made any decisions - there are other cities worth adopting, ones he could have a real impact on with the proper investment.
He's wary of talking to his host, however. Luthor must still be smarting after losing out on the bulk of Fischer-Morrow's American holdings, left with the scraps after Stark Industries took Morrow Oil & Gas. Wayne Enterprises lost out too, but Wayne seems to be taking it well. Although if his reputation is even half true, he may not have noticed.
Stark has noticed. Stark thinks he's screwed Robert on the deal, and maybe he has - he's certainly screwed Luthor and Wayne, because Stark Industries' offer was the lowest of the three. His lawyers had blanched, and then alternately pleaded and threatened, but Robert has learnt to stand by his decisions. Robert has his eye on the future, and so does Stark. Saito may be preparing to rain down wind turbines across Asia like so much metal origami, but Stark - Stark has something interesting planned for energy.
And Robert owns enough stock in Stark Industries that he can afford to lose a little money on a few half-dry oil wells.
He owns enough stock that he can smile when Stark greets him with a smirk and a cry of "Bobby! I can call you Bobby, right?"