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Chapter Text

The void was silent. A boundless, empty expanse where time and space seemed to fold in on themselves, walls of shimmering light stretching to infinity.

But one by one, figures blinked into existence. The ground beneath them is smooth marble-like stone, stretching into infinity. No stars. No walls. Just endless emptiness.

In one side, there were heroes that inspired great awe in the hearts of people, as well as great controversy.

These were the Avengers, the Earth’s mightiest heroes. Their members were Captain America, Iron Man, Thor, Hawkeye, Hulk, Black Widow, Black Panther, Vision, Captain Marvel, Doctor Strange,

The X-Men, a group of mutants who protect a world that hates and fears them. Their members were Cyclops, Wolverine, Jean Grey, Storm, Nightcrawler, Rogue, Gambit, Colossus, Beast, Shadowcat, Iceman, Angel, and Professor X. Strangely enough, accompanying them was also their greatest nemesis Magneto, alongside his children; Quicksilver, Scarlet Witch and Polaris.

The Fantastic Four, the first super family. Their members were Dr. Reed Richards, or Mister Fantastic, the smartest man in the world. His wife, Sue Storm, the Invisible Woman. Her younger brother, Johnny Storm— the Human Torch. And Ben Grimm, the Thing.

The Defenders, a group of street-level vigilantes. Their members were Jessica Jones, Daredevil, Luke Cage and Iron Fist.

The Inhumans, more specifically their Royal Family. They were genetically modified subspecies of humans whose powers emerge once exposed to Terrigen Mists.

The Guardians of the Galaxy, a ragtag group of space travelers with questionable pasts, now seeking to defend the galaxy they all call home. These were Star-Lord, Rocket Raccoon, Groot, Drax, Gamora and Mantis.

The Champions, a brand new young group of teenage heroes who are determined to solve the problems the older heroes conveniently ignore. They were the stretchy and bubbly Miss Marvel, the eight smartest man in the world and fledgling Hulk Amadeus Cho, the brilliant young Iron-Heart, the human Rocket Nova, the daughter of the Vision V.I.V.I.A.N, and the young Spider-Man Miles Morales.

Finally, there were a few others who weren’t part of any group but were still worth consideration. Those were the friendly neighborhood hero Spider-Man, the gruesome Punisher, the Merc-With-A-Mouth Deadpool, the Fist of Konshu Moon Knight, the symbiote known as Venom, the dhampir vampire hunter Blade, and the inseparable duo Cloak and Dagger.

From the other side, their numbers were actually much smaller. They were heroes of godly magnitude who try everyday to be more human.

The Justice League. Their members compromised of Superman, Wonder Woman, Batman, Aquaman, Green Lantern, the Flash, Martian Manhunter, and Green Arrow. There was also two members of their magical sub-branch, John Constantine, Zatanna Zatara.

Accompanying them were the Teen Titans, who started as sidekicks seeking their own place in the world but grew into becoming their own thing. Beast Boy, Cyborg, Raven, Bumblebee, Starfire, Wonder Girl, Kid Flash, and Blue Beetle.

Strangely enough, one of the heroes was accompanied by his respective family. This one being Batman, who was backed up by Nightwing, Oracle, Red Hood, Orphan, Red Robin, Spoiler, Robin and Signal.

Confusion reigned.

Spider-Man spoke first. Hands raised, cracking jokes nervously.

“Uh, this doesn’t look like Queens… unless they finally gentrified the sky.”

Green Lantern instinctively created a construct shield around the Justice League.

Wolverine unsheathes his claws. “Smells wrong. And I don’t like it.”

Batman was already analyzing surroundings, already cataloging potential threats.

Cyclops orders the X-Men into a defensive formation.

It was only until the Human Torch spoke—“Whoa, capes and tights I don’t recognize. Anyone else getting major Comic-Con vibes?”— that both groups finally noticed one another.

A small clash then erupted.

Wolverine bristled at Green Lantern’s glowing ring aimed vaguely in his direction. Punisher draws a gun. Flash instantly zips in, disarms him, and says: “Yeah, no. Let’s holster that, soldier.”

Before the growing tension could erupt into violence, two colossal presences manifested. One, a brilliant, comforting light, radiated warmth and certainty. The other, a shadowy yet omnipotent form, exuded quiet authority.

“I am the One Above All,” said the brilliant figure, voice echoing in the minds of everyone present. “And I welcome you.”

“I am the Presence,” the shadowy figure replied, voice like the turning of the cosmos. “You have been brought here because you have been chosen.”

The heroes exchanged wary glances. Batman’s eyes narrowed behind his cowl. “Chosen? For what?”

“And for what purpose” Magneto added. “Speak plainly.”

“Let’s hear them out.” Captain America said, trying to stabilize.

“To participate in an exchange,” the Presence said. “I am sure all of you are very much aware of the concept of the multiverse. Your universes are not alone. But, there are hundreds of multiverses beyond just your comprehension. A multiverse for the multiverse, if you will. But yours are the largest, the most influential. For the longest time, your worlds have inspired love, awe, and joy for many. But with passion, comes confrontation. For centuries, your worlds have clashed, debated, and sometimes destroyed each other’s reputations.”

“That ends now,” the One Above All added. “Instead of war, we propose collaboration.”

“Collaboration?” Natasha Romanoff asked, voice dripping skepticism.

“Yes. We shall send you to the world of the heroes before you.” The One Above All explained.

“And what? You’re sending us to some other universe and leaving our world undefended?” Moon Knight scoffed.

“I have to agree with the bad Bats impersonator. We can’t just leave our world alone.” Hal explained, “You see, I have a whole sector to protect.”

“Well, we have an entire galaxy.” Star-Lord bragged dismissively.

“The people of my kingdom need me as well,” Aquaman spoke gravelly.

“So do mine.” T’Challa nodded. Black Bolt and his wife Medusa agreed.

“What about our families? Some of us are minors, y’know.” Kamala argued.

“I agree.” Jaime nodded, exchanging nods with the rest of the Titans.

“The Sorcerer Supreme is necessary to maintain the balance of my universe.” Strange spoke.

“Mutantkind rely on my X-Men to set a good example. To work for a better world.” Charles Xavier murmured.

“We all can’t just leave our cities unattended.” Green Arrow said.

“Neither can we.” Luke Cage stated, folding his arms.

“OMG, this is the ultimate meta crossover turned real!” Deadpool squealed, but everyone on his side ignored him.

“Do not worry. They won’t be left unattended,” said the Presence. “Rather, we are sending you to protect their world. And your counterparts will do the same. You will protect their worlds, just as they will protect yours. In doing so, you will gain experience, broaden your horizons, and forge bonds with those you might never have met otherwise.”

“So it’s like— an exchange program? But with heroes?” Spider-Man asked out loud, remembering his experiences from high school.

“Precisely,” the One Above All said.

Some heroes begin to relax, but others remain tense.

“You’re leaving something out.” Batman stated.

“Yeah, bub. Gods don’t move people around for charity.” Wolverine sniffed.

“You are correct. There is… another purpose.” The One Above All chuckles softly. “Entertainment.”

The room froze.

“Excuse me?” Diana’s voice was steel.

“For centuries, our people have quarreled over whose universe shines brighter, whose champions are stronger.” The Presence said, “They hunger for proof. And so, yes—this is entertainment.”

“So we’re gladiators in your cosmic reality show?” Green Arrow accused, outraged.

“Hate to break it to you, Robin Hood. But that’s every Wednesday for us already.” Tony said, half-grin, half-serious

“If lives are at stake, this cannot be a game.” Superman spoke.

“Our people have dreamed of this moment for centuries. Curiosity has always existed between your worlds. We wish to see how you fare, to test your limits, and to learn how the heroes of your worlds complement—or challenge—one another.”

“Sounds like a death sentence,” muttered Punisher, checking his firearms.

Batman’s jaw tightened. “And what guarantees do we have that this… experiment won’t have ulterior motives?”

“There is no lie here, Batman,” the Presence said solemnly. “There is curiosity, yes. But this is also a chance to end the age-old argument of supremacy between your worlds. To show that coexistence is possible.”

“As for families, we have already mended that. They will each wake up with a viable explanation in their heads for your absence. Some added proof will also be provided to further solidify this provided explanation.”

“Make no mistake. This is not cruelty. It is opportunity. To prove not just who is greater—but why both can and must coexist.”

A heavy silence fell.

The heroes exchange glances. Suspicion lingers, but so does curiosity.

“If there’s even a chance this builds something better… I’m in.” Captain America said.

“I will honor this pact—for peace.” Wonder Woman added.

“So, uh, do we get passports, or just… swing into town and hope nobody calls the cops?” Spider-Man scratched his head.

“Don’t trust them. Not for a second.” Batman whispered lowly to Superman.

“But we’ll still do what’s right.” Clark answered, form but resolute,

The two gods nod, their forms glowing brighter.

“Then it is agreed. Let the Exchange begin.”

The void fractures into cascading portals of light, each hero pulled toward the world not their own.

Chapter Text

Tony’s eyes snapped open to the howl of wind in his ears. Sky. Nothing but sky.

“Oh, fantastic,” he muttered as gravity reminded him of its cruel, one-way rule. He didn’t even have time to panic before his armor whirred to life, thrusters engaging, stabilizers snapping him upright mid-free fall. His HUD flickered from red to green as the system reconfigured just in time.

With a controlled burst, Iron Man touched down on the street below, sending a ripple of hot air through the crowd that had already started gathering.

“Not my most graceful landing,” he said, voice echoing inside the helmet. “But at least my insurance rates aren’t going up.”

“Sir,” JARVIS’s calm British voice chimed in, “welcome to — scanning — Metropolis. I have taken the liberty of checking your financial holdings. Good news first: your assets still exist.”

Tony exhaled in relief. “Oh, thank God. For a second, I thought I’d have to start an OnlyFans.”

“But,” JARVIS added politely, “you have lost a considerable amount.”

Tony groaned. “Of course. Because free falling into another universe wasn’t enough. How much are we talking here, J?”

“Nothing fatal,” JARVIS assured. “You would still be able to live in relative comfort. My estimates suggest you could feasibly establish one new Stark Industries plant in this world. The rest, however, would have to be rebuilt from scratch.”

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose beneath the helmet. “One plant. Alright. Not ideal, but hey—I built Amy armor in a cave. This is just… cave 2.0.”

Already, gears were turning in his mind. This wasn’t just survival—it was an opportunity.

“Alright, J,” Tony said, straightening. “Give me the lay of the land. Who are the big fish in this corporate pond? I want to know who I’m stealing—uh, competing against.”

“Understood, sir. After connecting to the world’s satellites and conducting a preliminary survey, I have compiled a list of the largest and most influential businesses.”

“Hit me.”

“The primary corporations of note are Wayne Enterprises, Queen Industries—”

“Wait,” Tony cut in, holding up a gauntleted hand. “Lemme guess. LexCorp?”

There was a pause. “Yes, sir. How did you know?”

Tony’s HUD zoomed in on the massive glass tower dominating the skyline in front of him. Sleek, overdesigned, and obnoxiously self-congratulatory. At the top, in gleaming chrome, the name screamed across the heavens: LEXCORP.

“…Just a hunch,” Tony said flatly.

Steve Rogers opened his eyes to roaring wind and a dizzying horizon. For an instant, his instincts screamed panic. But decades of training steadied him. He adjusted his posture, tucked in, and angled his body like a paratrooper. Moments later, he struck earth in a controlled roll, shield-first, leaving only a dent in the dust behind him.

He rose to his feet, scanning his surroundings. The heat was oppressive, the air choked with smoke and sand. A small village sprawled before him—half its homes in ruin, terrified families huddled together as armed guerrillas barked orders and looted what little the villagers had left.

Steve’s jaw tightened. Different world, same evil.

“Guess I’m still needed,” he muttered, pulling the shield from his back.

The ransackers barely had time to react before Captain America was among them. His shield flashed in the sun, disarming rifles, knocking men off their feet, sending bullets ricocheting harmlessly into the sand. His strikes were swift, precise—an unstoppable storm wrapped in red, white, and blue.

When the last of the soldiers dropped unconscious, the village fell silent. Dozens of wide-eyed civilians stared at him as though a god had descended from the sky. Children peeked out from behind their mothers, whispering in awe.

But then—click.

Steve froze. That sound was universal.

Slowly, he turned. He was surrounded. Not by guerrillas, but by a different sort of unit altogether. Their weapons weren’t sloppy or desperate—they were aimed, disciplined. Unhinged.

At their head stood a man with a cold stare behind his scope, gun trained directly at Steve’s forehead.

“You’ve got five seconds before I pull this trigger,” the man said evenly.

Steve raised his hands slightly, palms out, his voice calm but firm. “I’m not here to fight you.”

A high-pitched giggle broke the tension. From the side, a pale-skinned woman in red and blue leaned on a giant mallet, twirling gum between her teeth.

“Puddin’, he’s all polite an’ stuff! Ain’t that adorable?”

Deadshot tilted his head slightly, assessing his target like a puzzle. “Waller says he’s an unregistered meta-human. Orders are to bring him in alive for questioning. You’re not walking away from this.”

Steve’s expression hardened. He’d heard that tone before—in Hydra soldiers, in corrupt generals, in anyone who thought they had the right to cage a man for their agenda. He gripped his shield tighter.

“Son,” he said, voice steady as stone, “I’ve never gone down easy. And I don’t plan to start now.”

The standoff thickened, a heartbeat away from violence—Captain America standing against the Suicide Squad, both sides unsure just how much of a fight they were about to get.

King T’Challa’s eyes opened to the rush of air, the world spinning below him. Yet he did not panic. He twisted gracefully in mid-air, controlling his descent with the precision of a panther leaping from tree to tree. When he landed, his boots touched the earth with a silent, feline grace—barely disturbing the grass beneath him.

But the serenity lasted only a heartbeat.

A ring of spears leveled at his chest. Women in bronze and gold armor surrounded him, eyes sharp, postures firm. Their movements were practiced, disciplined—warriors bred for battle. Even without seeing their insignias, he knew he had stumbled into a place unlike any other.

“How did you come here, stranger?” one of them barked, spearpoint pressing closer. “No man sets foot on Themyscira!”

T’Challa straightened, unshaken. He slowly raised his hands, palms open to show he carried no weapon beyond the claws hidden in his suit. His voice was calm, rich with dignity.

“I am T’Challa, son of T’Chaka. King of Wakanda. I am not of your lands, nor did I come here by choice. But I mean you no harm.”

The Amazons exchanged uneasy glances, their distrust palpable.

“No man should be here. The Queen will decide his fate.”

T’Challa inclined his head respectfully, his tone unwavering. “Then take me to her. I will stand before your queen, and offer her the truth.”

For a moment, the circle of spears held. Then, with a sharp gesture from their captain, the Amazons lowered their weapons—slightly. Still wary, they formed ranks around him, escorting him along the marble paths that wound through their paradise.

As they marched, T’Challa took in Themyscira’s beauty with the eye of both warrior and king: the towering statues, the gleaming temples, the strength of its people. His lips curved faintly beneath the mask.

“A hidden kingdom of warrior women,” he murmured softly, almost to himself. “In another life, Wakanda and Themyscira might have been sisters.”

The Amazons remained silent, but some eyes flickered, betraying the faintest curiosity about the stranger who carried himself not as a prisoner… but as a king.

Natasha Romanoff opened her eyes to the wind rushing past her face. The ground was a blur racing up to meet her, but she didn’t scream. She twisted her body mid-air, controlling her descent with the kind of precision only years of brutal training in the Red Room could provide. She struck earth in a perfect roll, rising without so much as a scratch.

The moment she straightened, she realized she wasn’t alone.

Dozens of black-clad assassins materialized from the shadows, blades glinting under the moonlight, circling her like wolves. Natasha’s eyes flicked left, then right, reading every stance, every weakness. She didn’t hesitate.

The first one lunged. She sidestepped, snapped his arm, and flung him into two more. Another came from behind—she ducked, grabbed his wrist, twisted the blade from his grip, and sent him sprawling with a kick to the chest. Within seconds, a half-dozen assassins lay unconscious around her, the rest keeping their distance, murmuring in unease.

“Impressive.”

The voice was smooth, confident, and cold. Natasha turned to see a woman approaching, clad in dark silks, eyes sharp as daggers. Lady Shiva. To those in the know, the deadliest hand-to-hand combatant alive.

“Not everyone can find their way to Nanda Parbat,” Shiva said, circling Natasha like a predator sizing up its prey. “And even fewer can bypass our defenses. You are no ordinary intruder.”

“Never claimed to be,” Natasha replied evenly, brushing dust from her sleeve.

“You fought well. Efficient. Precise. The League of Assassins recognizes talent when we see it.” Shiva’s tone shifted from cold observation to an invitation. “Join us. You would find purpose here. Power. Family.”

Natasha’s eyes hardened. “I’ve had my fill of organizations that thrive on blood and control. I won’t be someone’s weapon ever again.”

Shiva stopped, disappointment flashing across her face before it hardened into something sharper. “A pity. Your skill is rare. But if you will not join us… you will not leave us.”

She slid into a stance so flawless it seemed less a fighting pose and more an extension of her being. The air itself grew heavy.

Natasha dropped into her own stance, eyes locked on Shiva’s. “You can try.”

What would follow could only be described as poetry written in fists and steel.

Carol Danvers woke up to the cold void. Not air rushing past her—not ground racing toward her—but stars. Endless, glittering stars.

She didn’t panic. Space was home.

Her body flared with energy as she steadied herself, golden light blazing around her. She twisted upright and rocketed toward the nearest beacon of power she could sense.

She landed with a boom that rattled the emerald towers of Oa itself.

The ground shuddered under her impact, cracks webbing through the gleaming green surface. Lantern constructs shimmered to life immediately, hard-light weapons forming as a massive figure stomped toward her.

“Alright, Poozer,” he barked, voice like gravel, “you got five seconds to explain who you are before I knock you halfway across this sector.”

Carol straightened, dusting a few flecks of debris off her uniform, her own glow rising in reflex. “Carol Danvers. Some call me Captain Marvel. I’m not looking for a fight—unless you start one.”

He grunted, unimpressed. “Big mouth for someone crashin’ into Oa without clearance.”

Before sparks could fly, a ripple of energy washed across the plaza. The Guardians of the Universe themselves descended from their citadel, their tiny forms emanating authority that silenced even Kilowog.

“That will be enough,” one Guardian intoned, his voice echoing in Carol’s mind. “We were informed of this one’s arrival.”

Carol blinked. “You… were expecting me?”

Another Guardian inclined his head. “Not you, specifically. But Mogo—the living world—sent word. He says a group of strange beings landed upon his surface. They called themselves the Guardians of the Galaxy.”

Carol’s eyes widened, tension slipping into relief. “Of course they did.”

“Mogo is escorting them here as we speak,” the Guardian continued. “And given the nature of your appearance, we suspect your arrival is connected.”

The big guy lowered his ring slowly, though his scowl remained. “Hmph. Figures. Poozers always travel in packs.”

Carol gave a small, grateful smile. “Thanks for the… warm welcome.” She inclined her head slightly. “I appreciate the invitation.”

And with that, the heart of the Green Lantern Corps opened its gates to a soldier who had carried a different kind of light across her own universe.

Clint Barton opened his eyes to the deafening rush of wind. For a split second, he panicked.

“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—oh wait, wait, wait, building!”

With fumbling speed, he yanked an arrow from his quiver, nocked it, and fired. The arrowhead exploded into a steel line that snapped taut against the side of a skyscraper. The sudden yank nearly dislocated his shoulder, but it slowed his fall enough for Clint to swing and land on a rooftop with only a few bruises.

He exhaled, bent over, hands on his knees. “Hoo boy. Barton Airlines is officially canceled.”

The hairs on the back of his neck prickled. He spun, instincts screaming—just in time to see an arrow slice through the air where his head had been a heartbeat before. It quivered in the rooftop concrete.

Clint’s bow was in his hand in a flash, arrow already nocked. His sharp eyes found the source: a man in black leather armor, another bow leveled, calm and composed as if the rooftop was his hunting ground.

“Well, well,” the stranger said coolly. “Decided to trade green for purple, Queen? Gaudy choice, even for you.”

Clint squinted. “Excuse me?”

“Don’t play dumb,” the man sneered, drawing back his arrow. “I know you, Oliver. But if you think that ridiculous paint job is fooling anyone—”

“Hold it,” Clint cut in, his smirk never wavering even with an arrow aimed between his eyes. “Whoever this Oliver guy is, sounds like a real sharp dresser. But me? I’m not him. Name’s Hawkeye. And I can still put you down just fine.”

The man’s eyes narrowed. “Hawkeye? Hmph. Cute. Another impostor with a bow.” He tilted his head slightly, predator’s confidence dripping in every word. “Prove you’re worth the name.”

Clint rolled his shoulders, straightened, and grinned. “Gladly.”

Stephen Strange woke not to the rush of wind nor the pull of gravity, but to silence. A silence so profound it pressed against his soul.

He opened his eyes to a chamber vast and endless, walls etched with runes older than humanity itself. It hummed with power akin to his Sanctum Sanctorum, yet far more ancient, far more rigid.

“Welcome, Sorcerer Supreme.”

Strange turned. The voice did not echo from a body, but from a gleaming golden helm resting upon its pedestal. The Helmet of Fate. The seat of Nabu, Lord of Order. Its hollow eyes seemed to stare through him, weighing his worth.

“I am aware of the exchange between our worlds,” Nabu intoned, the very air trembling with his words. “This tower is yours to use, as sanctuary and as weapon. You are welcome within it.”

Strange’s brow furrowed. He knew gifts from higher beings were never without a price. “And what will this… hospitality cost me?”

“That you serve as my host. The world demands balance. The mantle of Doctor Fate cannot be left vacant. With you, Sorcerer Supreme, that balance shall be preserved.”

Strange hesitated. He had worn many mantles, borne many burdens. He knew what it meant to bind oneself to entities who believed themselves eternal arbiters. He had resisted them before, fought them even. But something about this place… about the collision of worlds… told him the bargain was necessary.

He exhaled slowly. “I know the kind of deals your kind makes. And I know the dangers. But for now…” His hand hovered above the Helm. “…I accept.”

With deliberate certainty, Stephen Strange lifted the Helmet of Fate and placed it upon his head.

In an instant, his mind became a storm of visions. Stars burning out, gods warring, universes colliding. The weight of Order itself poured into him. When the golden glow subsided, his crimson Cloak of Levitation had merged seamlessly with robes of blue and gold, arcane sigils burning upon them.

Doctor Strange was gone.

In his place stood Doctor Fate.

“So it begins,” Nabu’s voice whispered within the helm. “Order has its champion once more.”

Thor’s eyes opened to rushing wind and endless fire. The air was thick with ash and smoke, the ground below nothing but an inferno of molten stone and burning towers. But Thor Odinson did not scream.

He slowed his descent with the ease of one born among the stars, body steady as his crimson cape billowed like a banner of war. Gracefully, he touched down upon the blackened ground, boots cracking the scorched surface beneath him.

The sound of wings came next. Hundreds of them.

From the skies poured the Parademons, grotesque soldiers of nightmare, swarming like a tide of carrion beasts. At their head landed a brute, massive and armored, with a savage sneer splitting his face.

“You there!” He snarled, hefting his brutish weapon. “How did you breach my father’s world? Speak, dog! Are you of New Genesis?”

Thor stood tall, hand resting upon the handle of Mjolnir. His voice rang like thunder, calm yet unshakable.

“I am Thor Odinson, son of Odin All-Father, prince of Asgard. I know not this ‘New Genesis,’ but I am the God of Thunder.”

The brute barked a laugh, spittle flying. “God of Thunder? Bah! You are the god of fools!” He raised his weapon, ready to bring it down—

“No.”

The single word froze the battlefield. It carried no shout, no bark, no rage. It was calm. It was inevitable. From the shadows of fire and stone, he appeared. Darkseid. Vast, immovable, a titan of cruelty whose very presence bent reality around him. His red eyes glowed, studying Thor with a predator’s interest.

“I feel it,” Darkseid rumbled, his voice like the grinding of stone. “The power within you. Ancient. Raw. You are no child of New Genesis. No New God at all. And yet…” His gaze lingered, calculating. “…you may yet have a place among my ranks.”

Thor’s grip on Mjolnir tightened. His reply was steel and storm. “The son of Odin kneels to no one.”

Darkseid’s brow furrowed, displeasure radiating from his very being. “You refuse my mercy. Few ever receive such an offer. You will regret this defiance.”

Thor raised Mjolnir, lightning dancing across his armor, his voice booming with fury and pride.

“Then come, tyrant! Let us see if your shadow can withstand the storm! For Asgard!”

Lightning split the blood-red skies of Apokolips, thunder echoing like the drums of Ragnarok. Darkseid stepped forward, Omega beams already crackling in his eyes.

And so the two gods—one old, one new—clashed, shaking the very foundations of Apokolips itself.

Hank Pym blinked awake, heart jolting as the sky roared past him. He flailed, disoriented, until he spotted Janet tumbling a few feet away.

“Jan!” he shouted, trying to reach her.

But before they could collide with the unforgiving ground, a third figure—small as they were—darted between them, gripping them with surprising strength. The descent slowed, and instead of crashing, they landed gently on a strange metallic surface that stretched out like a city of circuits.

“Easy there,” the stranger said, smiling a little “Name’s Doctor Ray Palmer. Most people call me the Atom.”

Janet blinked, then glanced at Hank. “You’re… like us.”

Ray raised a brow. “Like you? And what exactly are you two?”

Hank straightened his helmet. “Hank Pym. Also known as Ant-Man. This is Janet, the Wasp.”

Janet gave a little wave, wings fluttering.

Ray’s eyes widened, fascination overtaking him. “Incredible. Actual… independent shrinking technology? I thought I was the only one who cracked that. Well, aside from my protégé, Bumblebee.”

At the mention of her, Janet perked up. “Bumblebee?”

Ray nodded. “Brilliant young woman. Miniaturization expert, wings, stingers—the whole package. You remind me a little of her, actually.”

Janet giggled at that, giving Hank a playful elbow. “See? I already have a twin in this world. You’re officially replaceable.”

Hank rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide his own excitement as he stepped closer to inspect Ray’s suit. “Your suit… you’ve managed stability at this scale? And you’re regulating mass transfer in real-time? That’s—”

Ray grinned, finishing for him. “—exactly what I was going to ask you. I’ve never seen particle field manipulation quite like yours.”

The two scientists locked into immediate chatter, their voices filling with jargon and ideas about quantum compression and bio-suit integration. They paced in miniature strides across Ray’s lab bench, occasionally gesturing at equipment with almost childlike wonder.

Janet groaned and flopped down cross-legged on the surface, resting her chin in her palm. “Great. Shrink boys geeking out. This is gonna be hours.”

Hulk’s eyes snapped open to the howl of wind, the crushing pull of gravity. He was falling, but not to Earth. This sky was blood-red, this air thick with fire and hate.

He roared, rage building with every second of descent. The world below rushed up to meet him—an infernal wasteland of rivers that burned, skies that bled, and spires of black stone.

When he struck Ysmault, the ground cracked for miles. Lava burst from the impact. The Red Lantern homeworld itself trembled at the arrival of something far older and angrier than it had ever known.

“RRRRAAARGHHH!”

Hulk rose from the crater, eyes glowing green, teeth bared. The planet’s guardians swarmed immediately—Red Lanterns streaking across the bloody skies, spewing napalm fire from their rings, vomiting rage plasma at the intruder.

Hulk tore through them. He ripped one Lantern from the air and hurled him into a mountain. He smashed another into the burning ground, the red ring scattering like glass. Bolts of crimson energy hammered him from all sides, but Hulk only grew angrier. Stronger. More unstoppable.

“PUNY LIGHTS!” Hulk bellowed, smashing his fists together, sending shockwaves that toppled towers.

The Red Lanterns recoiled—but then parted.

From the shadow of a burning spire emerged Atrocitus, the monstrous founder of the Red Lantern Corps. His crimson armor gleamed, his blood-vomit dripping, his ring burning with the fire of hate older than worlds. His voice was thunder soaked in fury.

“I feel it,” Atrocitus growled, eyes blazing. “Your rage. Your endless, festering anger. It calls to us. To me.”

Hulk turned, chest heaving, fists still smoking from battle.

“Join us. Wield the red light. Let your fury be your weapon. Become more than beast. Become rage incarnate.”

For a moment, the air was silent, vibrating with the weight of the offer.

Then Hulk’s lips curled back in a snarl.

“HULK… BELONG TO NOBODY.” He slammed his chest with a thunderous boom. “HULK IS STRONGEST THERE IS!”

Atrocitus’s smile was all fangs and hate. “Then if you will not join us, you must be broken. Only in defeat will you see that your place is with the Red Lanterns.”

He raised his ring, crimson energy blazing like an inferno, the entire Corps rallying behind him. Hulk crouched low, muscles coiling like iron cables, green eyes burning hotter than emerald fire.

With a roar that shook the red skies, Hulk leapt forward as Atrocitus unleashed the full fury of his ring.

Rage met rage.

The clash of the Green Goliath and the Red Lantern Leader shook Ysmault to its very core.

Screams pierced the sky.

“AAAAHHHHHHH—!”

“WE’RE GONNA DIE!”

“Somebody catch us!”

The Champions were in free fall, flailing helplessly toward the ground. But the moment panic peaked, Nova, IronHeart, and Viv sprang into action. Nova’s fiery aura flared as he propelled upward, Riri’s suit hummed with energy as she swooped and grabbed a tumbling teammate, and Viv’s synthezoid form extended, catching Amadeus Cho mid-spin like a perfect safety net.

Seconds later, all of them touched down safely, landing in a grassy clearing with only minor bruises and a few frazzled nerves.

“Okay… that was not fun,” Miles wheezed, brushing dust from his suit.

Kamala Khan straightened, squinting at the horizon. Towering in the distance was a massive, T-shaped structure—gleaming, futuristic, and unmistakably heroic.

“Viv,” Kamala called, gesturing toward the synthezoid girl. “Scan it. Tell us what we’re looking at.”

Viv extended a hand, ocular sensors glowing. “Analyzing… This location is Jump City. That structure is known as Titans Tower, home base of the Teen Titans—a group of teenage heroes operating in this sector.”

“Teen heroes?” Amadeus echoed, eyebrows raised.

“Yes,” Viv replied, tone even. “Based on prior knowledge and incoming multiversal data, the One Above All and the Presence appear to have designated us as its primary defenders for the foreseeable future.”

Kamala’s eyes widened. “Wait… so does that mean we’ll be living here?”

“The Tower’s systems have already been upgraded to accommodate our arrival. Personal quarters, training areas, storage—all configured to our team’s specifications. Our equipment and suits have been integrated. So yes, you may consider this our temporary home.”

Riri’s visor flickered. “So… everything’s ready for us? Like, plug-and-play superhero style?”

“Exactly,” Viv confirmed.

Kamala took a deep breath, straightening her posture. “Alright, team. Let’s head in. But… be careful. Remember, this is someone else’s home. Treat it with respect. We’re guests here.”

Miles groaned. “Yeah, sure, no breaking anything, no accidentally triggering any defense protocols, and definitely don’t mess with the Titans’ stuff… easy rules, right?”

The Champions exchanged glances, each fighting a mix of excitement and nerves. Kamala led the way, Viv hovering close at her side, scanning the Tower’s systems. Nova flew overhead, keeping an eye out for threats, while Amadeus and Riri quietly marveled at the technology integrated into the base.

Jessica Jones screamed as she plummeted, wind whipping her hair into her face.

“AAAAHHHHH—oh come on!”

The landing was rough—more than rough. She crashed through a window into a safe house, sending papers, chairs, and the faint smell of coffee flying.

When she finally staggered upright, she realized she wasn’t alone. Three women were leveled at her: one with her crossbow raised; another had her fists clenched; and the last one had her whip coiled and ready.

Jessica glared, arms crossing over her chest. “If any of you wanna fight, be my guest. I love a good scrap first thing in the morning.”

The woman holding the crossbow narrowed her eyes. “Who the hell are you, and why did you just crash into our safe house?”

Jessica smirked despite herself, brushing dust from her jacket. “Name’s Jessica. Jones. And I… um… apparently take the scenic route when I arrive in new worlds.”

The blonde woman let out a sharp whistle, shaking her head. “Great. Another one of those types.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Yeah, well, save the commentary. I don’t have time to babysit your egos. So… fight, or talk?”

The cat-themed woman tilted her head, her grin teasing. “I like her already.”

For a moment, the three women exchanged glances. Then they warily relaxed.

“Talk,” The purple woman said cautiously.

Jessica muttered under her breath, “Finally. Someone with some sense.”

But inside, she knew: in this world—or any world—trouble had a way of finding her, whether she wanted it or not.

Spider-Man screamed as he plummeted through the air.

“AAAHHHHH—oh, no, no, no, no—”

Just in time, he spotted a building and shot a web, swinging himself to safety with a practiced twist and landing on the roof with a roll.

Looking around, he noted the skyline: shorter than New York, but workable. “Okay, Peter,” he muttered under his breath, adjusting his mask. “New city, new rules… technically, I’m an ambassador here now. Time to get your game face on.”

No sooner had he said that than a commotion in the distance caught his eye: a flurry of color and chaos, and the unmistakable sound of shattering glass.

Swinging toward it, he arrived to see a bank in the middle of a robbery. Colorful villains—loading bags of cash into getaway vehicles.

“Sorry to break it to you fellas.” Spider-Man shouted, landing between them with a dramatic flourish. “But that’s not how you make a withdrawal.”

One of the villains, clad in a blue winter coat and sunglasses (Why? It’s the middle of summer. Or at least, it felt like it. Peter didn’t knew if the seasons were the same in this world.) froze, tilting his head.

“Who the hell are you? Where’s the Flash?”

Spider-Man’s eyes widened beneath his mask, and he realized—Flash must be this city’s hero.

“Uh… Flash’s taking a… work vacation. He said, ‘Spidey, buddy, watch my city for a bit.’ So… hi! I’ll be filling in!”

The villains laughed, exchanging amused glances. “The Rogues,” the blue-coated one said with a grin. “And you, web-head, are going to regret ever setting foot in Central City!”

Spider-Man crouched, shooting a web at a nearby lamppost. “Regret? Me? Pfft. Please. You’re about to regret messing with your friendly neighborhood Spider-Man!”

With a swing, a flip, and a quick quip, Spider-Man launched himself into the fray, ready to take on the Rogues in this strange new world.

“AHHHHH—son of a—!”

Luke Cage let out a string of colorful curses as he plummeted through the sky.

The ground rushed up faster than he could blink. Hay and wood exploded around him as he crash-landed in the center of a barn.

Groaning, Luke pushed himself up, brushing splinters and straw from his shoulders. The barn smelled faintly of hay, old wood, and… something homemade.

From the doorway appeared an elderly couple, their eyes wide with a mixture of shock and curiosity.

“Oh, uh… sorry about the hole,” Luke said, nodding toward the cracked barn wall. “I… uh… I’ll pay for it. Eventually.”

The woman chuckled, stepping forward. “Honey, it’s fine. You’re not the first thing to crash into our barn. Won’t be the last.”

The man nodded, a kind smile softening his weathered features. “My name’s Johnathan Kent. This is my wife, Martha. You look like you could use a meal and a warm place to sit. Come inside.”

Luke raised an eyebrow, momentarily speechless, but the exhaustion and lingering adrenaline melted into relief.

“Luke Cage,” he muttered under his breath, “Uh… thanks. I appreciate that.”

The couple stepped aside, motioning for him to enter. Luke hesitated, then followed, stepping into the warmth of the Kent household. For a moment, he allowed himself to relax, grateful for the unexpected kindness in the middle of this bizarre, chaotic new world.

Moon Knight plummeted through the air, the wind roaring past his ears. Yet, in a display of uncanny control, he twisted mid-fall and landed silently on the marble floor of an ancient Egyptian temple.

Before him, a robed figure chanted incantations over a glowing pentagram etched into the stone. Felix Faust’s hands burned with dark energy, eyes alight with madness and ambition.

“Who dares interrupt my ritual?!”

Deathstroke moved with all the precision, calculation, and cold efficiency of a master mercenary. Every step, every breath, measured. His target would pay. That was the plan.

Until he entered the office and found his target already dead.

And a man in red and black, lounging across the desk, twirling katanas in one hand and waving a gun lazily in the other.

“Finally!” Deadpool shouted, voice echoing off the walls. “The One Above All and the Presence have brought me here,and it’s my time! The ultimate showdown! The original versus the fan favorite!”

Slade’s mask concealed his expression, but his head tilted slightly, unimpressed. “I have no idea what you just said. But if this is a fight, you want, fine. I’ll even let you take the first swing. Consider it… mercy for killing my mark.”

Deadpool leapt from the desk, twin katanas spinning in a flourish. “Mercy? Pfft! That’s my middle name. Well, it would be, if I had one. Or any morals. Or the ability to stay still.”

Slade growled under his mask, pulling out his sword with a smooth, precise motion. “Then pay attention. This is going to hurt.”

In a flash, Deadpool lunged, guns blazing, swords swinging, voice chattering nonstop. Slade met every strike with deadly accuracy—parrying, sidestepping, countering, his movements a masterclass in lethal efficiency.

Bullets ricocheted off the walls, glass shattered, and furniture splintered as the two mercenaries danced a brutal, chaotic ballet. Deadpool’s antics only seemed to sharpen Slade’s focus.

“You really never stop talking, do you?” Slade growled, slicing through Deadpool’s twin katanas mid-swing.

“Stop talking?” Deadpool shrieked, spinning in midair. “Oh honey, I live for talking! Especially when someone with a fancy mask looks this grumpy!”

Danny Rand’s eyes snapped open to the sound of wind and rain. His body twisted mid-air, training kicking in instinctively. He landed with the grace of Kun Lun itself, feet touching the wet asphalt as if he’d always belonged there.

The city was shrouded in darkness and pouring rain, neon lights flickering in puddles, the air heavy with the smell of ozone and asphalt.

A police car rounded the corner, headlights slicing through the storm. The tires screeched to a stop, and two officers stepped out, hands hovering near their holsters.

“Alright, man. Hands where we can see ‘em.”

The officers whispered among themselves, Danny caught fragments of their conversation.

“…these vigilantes keep popping up like a plague.”

“First Nightwing, now him. I swear… why can’t they just stay in Gotham with all the freaks?”

Danny’s eyes narrowed slightly beneath this yellow mask. Nightwing. So the city already had its protector. And apparently, the One Above All and the Presence had chosen this city for someone like him to watch over.

“I don’t want any trouble,” Danny said, hands raised in a non-threatening stance. “But I’d appreciate it if you told me where I am.”

The officers exchanged a glance, tension crackling between them. One finally spoke. “You’re in Blüdhaven. You’re lucky it’s just rain out here tonight.”

He folded his arms, rain dripping off his hair and shoulders, the familiar burn of anticipation lighting his chest.

The officers gave him one last wary look before retreating to their car, leaving Danny alone in the storm. He glanced toward the darkened streets, the neon reflecting off puddles like shards of a broken mirror, and clenched his fists.

Blüdhaven was rough, unwelcoming, and dangerous. Perfect.

Danny Rand, as the immortal Iron Fist, would protect it.

Daredevil stood across from Commissioner Gordon, city lights flickering off the rain-slicked streets.

“In very short terms,” Daredevil began, voice low and precise, “I come from a different world. Two cosmic beings decided to swap heroes between their worlds. Our heroes come here, yours go there. The idea is to protect the other world and gain experience.”

Gordon rubbed his eyes, already having the vague gist. “So… you’re basically taking over someone else’s job?”

Daredevil nodded. “That’s right. From what I gather, I’ll probably be filling in for your previous protector. I think you called him… Batman?”

Gordon sighed heavily. “Just… don’t break too many laws, and we’ll call it even.”

Daredevil allowed himself a small smile. “No problem.”

He was already mentally mapping out how to continue his work as a lawyer here.

“By the way, we picked up one of yours already. Calls himself ‘The Punisher.’ Broke into the Iceberg Lounge and turned it into a shooting gallery. Survivors said he kept repeating, ‘scum don’t deserve to breathe.’ We threw him straight into Arkham. And the whole time, I kept thinking… where the hell was Batman?” Gordon shook his head. “Now I know why.”

Daredevil frowned.

Gordon peered over his glasses, “Friend of yours?”

Daredevil shakes his head curtly, “No. Not even close. He’s a murderer, nothing more.”

Before Gordon can press, the night air cuts with the echo of breaking glass, then the distant thump of automatic gunfire. Somewhere in the Narrows.

“And there’s your cue. Time to prove you’re the replacement Bat.” He grumbled.

Daredevil twirled his billy clubs, firing the grappling line with fluid precision.

“Don’t worry, Commissioner. Gotham won’t go unguarded.”

He swings off into the rain, vanishing into the skyline. Gordon watches the red streak disappear against the storm, exhaling smoke.

“Hell. Guess I’ll have to rewire the Bat-signal now. This is going to be a pain in the ass.”