Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Tony Stark had seen some weird things in his life. Aliens, killer robots, sorcerers, and Scott Lang explaining how the quantum realm worked like a "time heist" movie. But watching a bunch of kids, kids he kind of trusted (well, at least one of them) open a hole in reality in the middle of his lab, step through it, and leave him with a smoking, broken, still-sparking portal was a new one.

And it wasn’t a fun new one.

“Okay,” Tony muttered, crouching in front of the fried tech, goggles perched on his forehead. “So the portal didn’t explode. That’s a win. It just… collapsed. That’s… technically also a win. Small win. Baby win.”

Behind him, Peter Parker hovered nervously, hands twisting the hem of his hoodie. “Uh, Mr. Stark, are you sure this is safe to fix? Because last time-”

“Kid, everything in my lab is technically unsafe to fix,” Tony cut in, grabbing a sparking cable and snapping it back into place with a zap. He winced. “Ow. And I still do it, because if I didn’t, we’d all be living under Ultron’s new dictatorship-slash-yoga retreat.”

Peter’s mouth opened, then closed. Yeah, fair point.

The rest of the Avengers were scattered around the lab, watching with varying levels of interest and/or dread. Thor leaned against the wall, arms crossed, glaring out the window as though Jason himself might come crashing through at any second. Clint was pacing, muttering under his breath something about feral demon child and therapy bills. Steve was standing near the workbench, politely pretending he understood what any of this tech was doing.

And Bruce was already regretting showing up.

“So let me get this straight,” Bruce said, adjusting his glasses. “A group of teenagers. Teenagers you didn’t know existed until, what, a few months ago? just casually invented interdimensional travel, used your lab to stabilize it, and then left without explanation?”

“Yup.” Tony popped the “p.”

“And you’re… fixing it?”

“Yup.”

“Why?”

Tony spun around in his chair, pointer finger raised like he was about to deliver the punchline of a great joke. “Because, big guy, I don’t like being left out of the science club. If those kids can pull this off, then so can I. And also-” he swiveled back toward the smoking machine, “I want to know where they went and why. I hate unanswered questions almost as much as I hate Thor’s fashion sense.”

Thor, without missing a beat: “You’re just jealous of my cape.”

“Yeah, sure, let’s call it that.”

Before Bruce could argue further, the portal let out a low, throbbing hum. Peter yelped and jumped back. Sparks flew, arcs of blue light zipping across the room like someone had plugged reality into a car battery.

“See?” Tony said, smug as hell. “She likes me.”

“Or she’s about to kill us,” Clint muttered.

—

It took another three hours of rewiring, coding, and Thor “accidentally” dropping Mjolnir through one of Tony’s tables before the portal stabilized. By then, everyone was twitchy, restless, and more than a little done with each other.

The shimmering oval of light stood in the middle of the lab, swirling with colors no one really had names for.

Steve stepped closer, frowning. “So this leads to wherever they went?”

“That’s the plan,” Tony said. He didn’t look tired, but Peter could tell by the way his shoulders slouched that he was exhausted. “And since curiosity killed the cat, we’re going to poke our heads in before curiosity kills me. Avengers field trip.”

“Who exactly is going?” Bruce asked, sounding very much like he hoped the answer wasn’t “him.”

Tony ticked names off his fingers. “Me, obviously. Peter, don’t give me that face, kid, you’re already involved. Cap, Barton, Point Break, Green Guy, sorry, Bruce, you’re on the list.”

Bruce groaned.

“And because I like playing it safe, I made a few calls,” Tony continued. He gestured to the door.

Right on cue, two unfamiliar figures walked in. One was tall, broad-shouldered, and already frowning like this was beneath him. The other looked like a blue-skinned elf who had just teleported into existence with a puff of sulfur and brimstone.

“Scott Summers, Kurt Wagner,” Tony introduced. “Mutants. Try not to freak out.”

Kurt gave a polite wave, tail flicking behind him. “Hallo.”

Peter nearly fell over. “Oh my god, he’s blue.”

“Very observant, mein freund.”

Scott didn’t bother with niceties. “Stark said this was important. Where’s the threat?”

“Working on it,” Tony said, pointing to the portal. “Step one: find the kids. Step two: figure out what the hell they were doing. Step three: hopefully not die.”

“Step four,” Clint added darkly, “keep the demon kid as far away from me as possible.”

Everyone ignored him.

—

They gathered in front of the portal, everyone geared up, tense, and only slightly regretting life choices. Tony gave one last look over his shoulder, smirk tugging at his lips.

“Well,” he said. “Shall we?”

The portal roared to life.

And when they stepped through-

-everything went wrong.

Instead of landing together, instead of landing anywhere close to each other, the portal spat them out like confetti. One by one, heroes and mutants alike were scattered across an entirely new world.

A world that didn’t know them.

A world that definitely wasn’t theirs.

The first thing Peter registered was wind. Lots of wind. He snapped a webline to the nearest steel beam out of sheer reflex, heart hammering, as gravity reminded him that portals don’t usually come with parachutes. Clint wasn’t as lucky.

“Holy crap holy crap holy crap!” Clint’s scream cut through the rush of air. He was tumbling, arms pinwheeling, bow already lost somewhere in the fall.

“Hang on!” Peter shouted, diving headfirst. The city below was gleaming in the sunlight, impossibly clean, impossibly tall, and terrifyingly far away. Peter angled, shot another web, swung, and caught Clint by the arm just before the archer would’ve become pavement pizza.

They slammed against the side of a skyscraper instead, Clint groaning as Peter plastered a webbed harness around him to keep him from falling again.

“Okay,” Peter panted, crouched on the glass. “Okay, that’s… that’s two lives you owe me now.”

Clint wheezed. “Kid… remind me never to… fly economy portal again.”

Peter laughed nervously, then froze.

Across the skyline, a streak of red and blue cut through the air, moving fast, but not in a Spider-Man kind of way. More like… jet propulsion. Except no jets. Just a man. A man in a cape.

Peter blinked. “Uh… Mr. Barton?”

Clint followed his gaze, and his jaw dropped. “Oh, no. No, no, no. Please tell me that isn’t another god.”

The caped figure banked left, soared between towers, and hovered, hovered, above a building before blasting upward again with enough force to leave a shockwave behind.

Peter whispered, “So… alternate Thor?”

Clint groaned, rubbing his face. “God help us. One of him was enough.”

They stayed plastered to the side of the building, watching the stranger vanish into the clouds. Neither of them moved, neither of them breathed, because what the hell kind of world had that guy just flying around like it was normal?

“Okay,” Clint finally said, grimacing as Peter helped him onto solid rooftop. “First rule: we don’t talk to floating cape man. Second rule: we definitely don’t let the murder gremlin-” he caught himself, “I mean don't get caught.”

Peter just nodded, wide-eyed. Somewhere in the distance, giant digital billboards flashed company names neither of them recognized: LexCorp, Wayne Enterprises.

“What even is a LexCorp?” Peter muttered.

“Don’t know,” Clint said. “Don’t care. Let’s find Stark.”

But the comms in both their ears were dead silent.

Tony Stark crash-landed in the middle of a street. Not a graceful Iron Man superhero landing, more like a drunk stumble that dented the pavement. His suit hissed as panels slid open and repurposed systems stabilized.

“Note to self,” he muttered, clambering upright, “next time, beta-test the interdimensional GPS before using it.”

Thor hit the ground beside him in a thunderous boom that cracked the asphalt. Bruce, thank god, managed to roll onto a sidewalk and avoided Hulk-ing out on impact.

They looked around. Central City wasn’t New York. It was smaller, brighter somehow, with a strange mixture of old brick buildings and gleaming towers. Neon signs glowed above bustling streets, and people stopped in their tracks, staring at the three newcomers like they were circus acts.

“Where are we?” Bruce muttered, dusting himself off.

“No clue,” Tony said, already disengaging from the Iron Man suit. He needed to look less conspicuous. The nanotech retracted into a sleek bracelet on his wrist, leaving him in casual black slacks and a T-shirt that screamed billionaire on vacation. “But blending in sounds like the smart play.”

Thor frowned, towering over everyone in his Asgardian armor. “I do not blend.”

“Yeah, no kidding. You look like you’re here for Comic-Con,” Tony muttered. He glanced up at a nearby building. A glowing logo read Queen Industries. Across the street, another skyscraper flashed S.T.A.R. Labs. Names he’d never heard, companies he didn’t recognize. “Okay, we’re officially in uncharted territory. Banner, thoughts?”

Bruce shook his head. “Not our Earth. Or at least not any part of it I’ve ever heard of.”

Before they could puzzle it out, a golden blur zipped past, rattling windows. A second, red blur followed immediately after. The crowd barely reacted, like this was an everyday sight.

Thor squinted. “Speed demons.”

Tony smirked. “Or maybe Quicksilver had kids. In spandex.”

The blurs slowed enough to reveal two figures: one in scarlet with a lightning bolt emblem, the other younger, clad in yellow. Both of them laughing, sprinting side by side at impossible speeds before vanishing again.

“Definitely not Stark tech,” Bruce murmured.

“Not anything Asgardian either,” Thor said, tightening his grip on Mjolnir. His eyes followed the direction the speedsters had gone, jaw set. “This realm… it plays tricks.”

Tony sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Great. Multiverse roulette, and we land in Track & Field: The Superhero Edition. Fan-freakin’-tastic.”

He tried his comm. Nothing. Dead air. No Peter, no Cap, not even static.

They landed in a back alley, the kind that smelled like wet brick and bad decisions. Steve Rogers helped Kurt up, his teleportation instincts had only kicked in after the portal spit him out, and he’d materialized three feet too high, collapsing into a pile of trash bags. Scott brushed himself off with an annoyed huff.

“This isn’t New York,” Steve said, looking around. “Not even close.”

The skyline was different. Narrower buildings, industrial structures, neon signs advertising Queen Industries and Verdant Nightclub. Across the river, a looming skyscraper bore the logo Wayne Enterprises. Another in the distance flashed LexCorp. None of them rang any bells.

Kurt tilted his head. “These… they are companies, ja? But not ones I know.”

Scott frowned, his visor reflecting the city lights. “Never heard of them. And Stark said he’s got his hands in everything. If he doesn’t know them, they don’t exist back home.”

“Which means we’re not home,” Steve said grimly.

The streets bustled, but not with the panic you’d expect if three strangers in combat gear had just popped into existence. People barely looked twice. Some gave them a cautious glance and kept walking, as though masked fighters were a daily inconvenience, like rush hour traffic.

“That’s not good,” Scott muttered. “If this world is used to people like us…”

“…then who are they used to?” Steve finished.

Kurt’s tail flicked nervously as he looked skyward. No flying men, no speedsters, just ordinary humans hustling about. Still, there was something heavy in the air, something expectant.

“Vhy do I feel like ve are being watched?” Kurt whispered.

Neither Steve nor Scott disagreed.

Chapter Text

The Big Belly Burger smelled like grease, salt, and questionable life choices. Which, in Tony Stark’s professional opinion, meant it was heaven.

The three of them had walked in trying to look casual: Bruce in a borrowed hoodie Thor insisted made him look like “a cloaked wanderer,” Thor himself in a jacket three sizes too small that couldn’t possibly hide the chainmail under it, and Tony in his usual “I’m not trying but I look rich” mode. Out of the three, Tony looked the least suspicious. Which wasn’t saying much.

They sat in a booth near the back. Bruce was hunched in on himself like he wanted to vanish into the vinyl seat. Thor immediately slammed a tray of burgers and fries onto the table with the pride of a man who had just hunted his own meal.

“Victory!” Thor boomed, unwrapping a burger with all the delicacy of a toddler. Several families looked over, startled. One kid whispered, “Is that a wrestler?”

Tony didn’t touch his food. He was staring past the ketchup dispensers at the old TV mounted in the corner, where a newscaster was cheerfully narrating a highlight reel of the local “heroes.”

“…and today, both the Flash and Kid Flash were seen preventing a five-car pileup on Main Street, redirecting traffic in record time…”

The screen cut to footage of two men in red and yellow suits zipping through traffic. The customers barely looked up; clearly, this was normal here.

Tony muttered, “Great. Speedy Gonzales has a sidekick. Love that for us.”

Bruce pushed his food around, eyes flicking to the TV. The feed switched to a different clip.

“…Meanwhile, Superman was spotted over Metropolis, stopping what officials are calling a catastrophic building collapse. Onlookers describe him as ‘a miracle.’”

The camera showed a man flying, cape snapping behind him, effortlessly holding up what looked like half a skyscraper. Thor froze mid-bite, ketchup dripping onto the table.

“By the All-Father,” Thor breathed, eyes wide. “Another god.”

Tony side-eyed him. “Please tell me you don’t know him. I don’t have room in my schedule for a second cape-wearing thunder clone.”

Bruce rubbed his temples. “This is impossible.”

The news continued without caring about their sanity.

“…Wonder Woman was also seen today, providing aid overseas in a recent humanitarian crisis. Together, she and Superman have been hailed as the forefront of the Justice League-”

“Justice League?” Tony muttered. “That’s a branding nightmare. Sounds like a cereal box.”

Thor pointed his fry at the screen like it was a weapon. “These are champions. Protectors. This realm is guarded.”

“Yeah, well, right now those protectors aren't making our goal any easier,” Tony said flatly. 

Bruce shifted uncomfortably. His scientist brain was working overtime, cataloging powers, abilities, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t adding up. None of this added up.

Then the anchor smiled into the camera.

“And in Gotham, preparations are underway for the annual Wayne Foundation Gala, hosted by Gotham’s own Wayne family. This year’s gala is dedicated to expanding outreach programs for at-risk youth.”

The screen cut to a photo of a sharp, well-dressed billionaire with piercing eyes, Bruce Wayne. The caption read: ‘Wayne Family Annual Gala – Tomorrow Night’.

But that wasn’t what made Tony choke on his soda.

The photo panned wider. Surrounding Bruce Wayne were young adults and teens in tuxedos and gowns, all captured smiling politely at some previous gala event. And in the middle of the lineup, clear as day, were Tim, Jason, Dick, and Damian.

Tony’s hands clenched around his cup. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Thor squinted. “It is them. The children from your lab.”

Bruce’s jaw slackened as his eyes caught the others, faces he didn’t recognize. A blonde girl in purple, a girl with black hair and dark eyes who looked like she’d kill you with a glance, a kid with yellow-tinted sunglasses and darker skin, and a redheaded woman in a wheelchair, smiling.

Tony leaned forward, staring hard. His brain was screaming, trying to reconcile what he was seeing. “Okay, so, let me get this straight. Those little gremlins who crash-landed into my lab and built a door through reality just… also happen to be the adoptive poster children for some billionaire?”

Bruce Banner whispered, almost dazed, “Who the hell is Bruce Wayne?”

Thor slammed his hand on the table hard enough to rattle the fries. “He must be mighty indeed, to house and raise warriors such as those.”

Tony snapped his fingers. “Or he’s got empty cave syndrome.”

Bruce blinked. “…What?”

“That’s what they said!” Tony hissed, dragging his hands through his hair. “Dick, the acrobat one, he literally said, ‘Our father’s a brooding guy with a cave under his house and a hobby in weapons collection.’ And this Jason kid said, ‘I think he’s got empty cave syndrome, he keeps trying to adopt more.’ I thought they were joking, because who says that to strangers in a billionaire’s lab, but nope, turns out it’s not a joke, it’s their home life.”

Thor frowned gravely, burger forgotten. “So their father is a collector of weapons, a man who lives in shadows, yet parades in public as a celebrated nobleman? Strange. Most strange.”

Bruce Banner had his face in his hands. “This doesn’t make sense. None of this makes sense.”

Tony slumped back in his seat, staring at the TV as the newscaster kept talking about the Wayne Gala like this was just another Tuesday.

“I swear,” he muttered, “if these kids are being raised by discount Ironman, I’m quitting the multiverse.”

The booth went quiet, save for the crunch of Thor finally finishing his burger.

Star City smelled like wet asphalt and smog, the kind of place where the neon lights didn’t quite mask how rundown everything felt underneath. Steve walked down the cracked sidewalk with his shoulders squared and his eyes scanning every corner. He’d been a soldier long enough to know when he was in enemy territory, and right now, everywhere felt like enemy territory.

Scott trudged beside him, his red visor hidden behind a pair of scratched sunglasses they’d fished out of a dumpster. His blue and gold X-uniform was now half-covered by a stained hoodie that smelled faintly of motor oil. He hated every second of it.

Trailing behind them was Kurt, tail coiled tight around his waist to keep it from swinging loose, wearing a mismatched jacket that barely went down and covered his three-fingered hands. His hood was up, but every so often, the faint glow of his yellow eyes caught the light.

They looked like exactly what they were: three guys who absolutely didn’t belong here.

“Just act normal,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Walk like we belong. People notice confidence.”

“People notice blue skin,” Scott muttered.

Kurt’s ears flicked under his hood. “I am trying to hide it, ja? But the hood is… itchy.”

Scott shot him a look. “You’re glowing.”

“I can’t turn that off!” Kurt hissed, tugging the hood lower.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going well.

They passed a row of storefronts, pawn shops, diners, and a dingy bar with flickering neon. On the corner, a bus stop advertisement flashed: Queen Industries – The Future of Star City. Steve made a mental note. Another name he didn’t recognize.

“Okay,” Steve said finally. “We need information. A map, a paper, anything that tells us where we are.”

Kurt brightened. “I can ask.”

“Kurt-” Scott started, but too late.

Kurt padded up to a young woman waiting for the bus, her headphones in, scrolling her phone. He gave her his friendliest smile, fangs and all, and asked, “Excuse me, fraulein, could you tell us vhere-”

The woman looked up. And screamed.

Loud.

Her phone clattered to the sidewalk as she stumbled back, eyes wide at the sight of Kurt’s indigo face, pointed ears, and sharp teeth. “M-MONSTER!” she shrieked, and bolted down the street.

A couple of passersby turned, caught sight of Kurt, and immediately joined in the panic. Within seconds, three people were running. Someone pulled out their own phone, recording shaky footage as they fled.

Kurt’s ears drooped. “Ah. Mein apologies.”

Steve closed his eyes. “So much for keeping a low profile.”

Scott swore under his breath, shoving his hands deeper into the hoodie pocket. “This is ridiculous. We’re walking around looking like dollar-store villains, and Smurf Nightcrawler here just gave someone a heart attack.”

“I said I vas sorry!” Kurt protested, hugging his jacket tighter. “I did not mean-”

Steve put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s not your fault. People just… they’re not used to seeing someone like you.”

“They vill be now,” Kurt muttered, glancing at the bystander still filming from half a block away. “I think that one is livestreaming.”

Scott groaned. “Great. Viral already. Perfect.”

And sure enough, a siren wailed in the distance. Not far. Getting closer.

Steve straightened, jaw tight. “We need to move. Now.”

The three of them ducked into the nearest alley, footsteps echoing, the wail of the siren chasing them. Star City might not have noticed them before, but now? Now the whole place was about to.

And here we have a list of “bloopers” I sadly decided to cut but i still want ya’ll to know what i was cooking.

“Justice League?” Tony muttered. “That’s a branding nightmare. Sounds like a cereal box.”

Thor pointed his fry at the screen like it was a weapon. “These are champions. Protectors. This realm is guarded.”

“Yeah, well, last time I heard that, a purple alien showed up and snapped half the universe,” Tony said flatly. 

Then the anchor smiled into the camera.

“And in Gotham, preparations are underway for the annual Wayne Foundation Gala, hosted by Gotham’s own Wayne family. This year’s gala is dedicated to expanding outreach programs for at-risk youth.”

The screen cut to a photo of a sharp, well-dressed billionaire with piercing eyes, Bruce Wayne. The caption read: ‘Wayne Family Annual Gala – Tomorrow Night’.

But that wasn’t what made Tony choke on his soda.

Was originally supposed to be:

Then the anchor smiled into the camera.

“And in Gotham, preparations are underway for the Wayne Gala, hosted by Gotham’s own Wayne family. This year’s gala is dedicated to celebrate Timothy Wayne’s latest academic achievements."

The screen cut to a photo of a sharp, well-dressed billionaire with piercing eyes, Bruce Wayne, with Tim by his side. The caption read: ‘Wayne Family Gala – Tomorrow Night’.

Tony leaned forward, staring hard. His brain was screaming, trying to reconcile what he was seeing. “Okay, so, let me get this straight. Those little gremlins who crash-landed into my lab and built a door through reality just… also happen to be the adoptive poster children for some guy that’s basically me but dumber and more muscular?”

“Just act normal,” Steve said, trying to keep his voice calm. “Walk like we belong. People notice confidence.”

“People notice blue skin,” Scott muttered.

Kurt’s ears flicked under his hood. “I am trying to hide it, ja? But the hood is… itchy.”

Scott shot him a look. “You’re glowing.”

“So are you, Your eyes are just covered!” Kurt hissed, tugging the hood lower.

Steve pinched the bridge of his nose. This was going well.

Chapter Text

Peter Parker had never been to Disneyland, but if he had, it probably wouldn’t have been as exciting as this. Metropolis was like one giant theme park for a guy who had never seen anything outside his own city. Buildings were taller, cleaner, shinier, everything was brighter. It looked like the kind of place where everything worked, and nothing ever went wrong.

Peter practically bounced from corner to corner, eyes wide with the kind of wonder usually reserved for kids on Christmas morning.

“Clint, look!” he shouted, pointing to a massive billboard that had an image of a man in a cape holding up a falling building. “Is that, like… a superhero thing? Or are they just really good at advertising?”

Clint Barton, walking several paces behind, narrowed his eyes at the display. “It’s probably a glorified construction worker,” he muttered. “Who wears capes.”

Peter, already distracted by something else, whipped his head back around. “Awww, you’re so cynical, Clint.” He grinned. “You know, this place is amazing! We should come back here for, like, a vacation, after we figure out what the hell happened to the others, of course.”

Clint was trying his best to act like he didn’t care, but the truth was, he was exhausted. He adjusted the borrowed bag slung over his shoulder, trying to make sure the bulge of his bow and quiver was hidden. Tthe last thing he needed was a bunch of strangers thinking he was some kind of weirdo with weapons.

He was already paranoid enough. The whole world felt... wrong.

“I’m just saying,” Clint muttered, his voice low, “there’s no way we’re going to figure out where the others are if we’re wandering around like tourists.”

Peter shot him a grin, ignoring Clint’s obvious lack of enthusiasm. “Oh, come on! This place has so many cool things! Look at that!” He pointed to a street vendor cart that had a big neon sign reading "World-Famous Metropolis Hotdogs!"

Clint groaned. “Really? A hotdog? You can’t be serious.”

“Oh, I’m dead serious!” Peter’s eyes practically lit up. “I mean, we’re in a whole new universe! There could be some kind of crazy, alien hotdog that tastes, like, totally different! I’ve gotta know!”

He approached the vendor, practically bouncing on his toes as the guy behind the cart raised an eyebrow. “You want the special?”

Peter gave him an overly enthusiastic thumbs-up. “Yes, yes, yes, please! And extra mustard!”

Clint stared at him, rubbing his temples. He was trying to be the responsible one here, but Peter… Peter was like a puppy on espresso. “You’ve had hotdogs before, kid. I don’t get it.”

“Yeah, but not in this dimension!” Peter beamed, accepting the hotdog with a flourish. He took a huge bite, closing his eyes as if he were tasting some divine revelation. “Okay, okay… tastes the same. But still, it’s an experience, y’know?”

Clint just sighed, keeping his hands tucked in his jacket pockets as he looked around, trying once again to raise the comms. “This is ridiculous. I still can’t get a signal on the comms. I don’t get it. We’re supposed to be able to contact Tony, right?”

Peter didn’t answer right away. He was too busy devouring his hotdog, hands messy with mustard. After a moment, he wiped his mouth and shrugged. “Maybe… I dunno, maybe the whole portal thing messed up the signal? Or… maybe the technology is different here?”

Clint just looked at him for a beat. “Kid, we don’t even know what this place is, and you’re worrying about mustard?”

Peter wiped his mouth again, clearly unbothered. “Hey, I’m just trying to make the best of it. No point in panicking until we know more.” He paused, staring at the hotdog for a second. “Though, I do wonder if they have, like, chili dogs here…”

Clint rolled his eyes. “One day, Parker, you’re gonna get us into real trouble with that attitude.”

Peter looked up at him, a glint of mischief in his eyes. “What, you mean more trouble than that time you got your bow stolen by a kid? Or that time-”

“Don’t start with me.” Clint raised a finger, clearly already exhausted by the memory of their last ‘adventure.’ “I’m trying to stay calm and figure out where the hell we are. Meanwhile, you’re over there,” He jabbed a thumb at Peter, “acting like you’ve won the lottery because you got to eat a hotdog from a cart.”

Peter grinned wide. “Hey, that’s how I roll. I’ll figure out where the others are later. Right now? Hotdog, mustard, life’s good, man.”

Clint sighed. “Yeah. I’m sure the universe is thrilled about your hotdog investigation.”

A few minutes later, Peter had finished his snack and was back to scanning the towering skyscrapers above. Clint was still trying to get through on the comms, and his irritation was building. Something was off about the way people walked here. There was a kind of confident strut, like they all knew something they didn’t. It made Clint feel... out of place.

Finally, Clint huffed, frustrated. “I don’t know, Pete, this is just—we’re in a totally different dimension. The portal was bad enough, but now…” He let out a long breath. “We’re stuck in this weird place with no way of reaching anyone. I don’t even know if anyone from back home is gonna be able to find us.”

Peter, ever the optimist, smiled brightly and clapped Clint on the shoulder. “Hey, if we’re gonna be stuck here, we might as well make the best of it, right? Besides, we’re Spider-Man and Clint Barton! We can handle whatever this place throws at us. It’s just a city. Probably.”

Clint stared at him for a second, then smirked. “Yeah, sure. Except for the part where we don’t know who’s in charge, if anyone’s actually good, and why we’re suddenly stuck in the middle of it.”

Peter gave him a hopeful thumbs-up. “But hey! We’ll figure it out! No biggie.”

Clint looked at him. “You’re insane.”

Peter just grinned. “Yup! But you’re stuck with me, so deal with it!”

They walked on, Peter pulling Clint into the crowd, both of them completely unaware of the people staring at them from a distance.

Tony Stark didn’t need much space to work. As long as there was a surface for his tech and tools, he could make anything happen. That’s why, when he found a dark, quiet alley tucked away from the busy streets of Central City, he set up shop without hesitation.

“I’ll get this thing working,” Tony muttered under his breath, tweaking the last wire into place. “Piece of cake. Easy fix. Just gotta get eyes on Peter and the gang…” He paused and glanced at Thor and Bruce, who were standing a few feet away, trying their best not to look suspicious in the dark alley.

“Shouldn’t we be getting to Gotham soon?” Bruce asked, already regretting his decision to follow Tony into a back alley to work on a tracker.

Tony waved him off. “Of course we should. But first, I need to figure out where everyone is. You know, so I can get some peace of mind and, more importantly, get on with the reason we even came here.” He glanced back at the tracker, which was now pulsing with a soft blue light. He connected the device to a small holographic screen that flickered to life. The tracker, embedded in Peter’s suit, was the perfect solution.

“Should’ve done this from the start,” Tony muttered, then activated the camera in Peter’s suit. The tiny lens blinked to life, and a grainy, distorted image of Metropolis came into view. Tony’s eyes scanned the screen. There was Peter, no surprise there, prancing around like an excited child in a candy store. The camera caught glimpses of his hands as he waved excitedly at street vendors, oblivious to the rest of the world around him.

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, leaning forward. “He’s still in Metropolis, but where the hell is everyone else?” He turned to look at the display again, expecting to see the familiar faces of some other members of the group, but all he saw was Peter's hand, waving, holding things, and gesturing to everything around him.

Tony’s heart skipped a beat. “Wait… Wait a second.” He leaned in closer to the screen, his brow furrowing as he saw only Clint and Peter’s hands, as if they were the only ones present. “Where’s the rest of them?” He turned sharply to look at Thor and Bruce. “We’ve got a problem.”

Thor tilted his head, clearly confused. “What problem?”

Tony waved the device in the air, showing them the video. “I tracked Peter’s location, but… it’s just him and Clint.”

Bruce’s brows furrowed. “You’re telling me everyone else is missing? Even… Kurt and Scott?”

“Yeah. It’s just those two,” Tony said, a sense of unease creeping into his voice. “I thought they were all together, Kurt, Scott, Clint, Cap, and Peter, right? But it’s only Clint and Peter in Metropolis. No one else is with them. Which means…” He stopped mid-sentence, trying to process it. “It means the others are probably not in Metropolis. So where the hell are they?”

Thor grinned, his usual overzealous enthusiasm popping up. “Maybe they are hiding from us! Testing our ability to find them. A battle of wits!”

Tony shot him a look. “Not a battle of wits. A battle of confusion. And I’m losing.”

Bruce sighed. “Maybe they’re in Gotham. Could they have gone there?”

“That would make sense,” Tony mused. “If Peter’s with Clint, that means they’re trying to figure out what’s going on, like we are. We’ll track down Clint and Peter in Metropolis, and then we can figure out where the others went.”

“Gotham, it is,” Thor said enthusiastically, clapping his hands together. “What’s the plan, Stark? Are we going there now?”

Tony nodded. “Well, we’re in Central City, so we’re not exactly too far. If we get on a train, it’ll take us straight to Metropolis without attracting too much attention. Once we get there, we can figure out what the hell Peter and Clint are doing. After that, we’ll head to Gotham.”

Bruce crossed his arms. “You’re really gonna drag us onto a train? You don’t think that’s gonna attract attention?”

Tony gave him a look. “Please, Banner, I’m the one with the stealth suit here. You’ve got a giant green scientist hiding underneath your skin and Thor over there is a literal norse god. You think I’m the one drawing attention?”

Thor piped up, “We’ll simply say we’re tourists from far-off lands. I’m certain they’ll welcome us!”

Tony groaned. “Science, please help us.”

As night started to fall over Central City, Tony activated the tracker once more. The pulsing blue light on the device steadied, and the map of Metropolis appeared on screen, showing Clint and Peter’s location. Tony zoomed in.

“Okay, okay,” Tony said, brushing his hands off as he turned toward the others. “Let’s get going. We’ve got a train to catch, and hopefully, when we get to Metropolis, I won’t have to fight every hero in this universe just to find Peter and Clint.”

Tony’s mind was already running through the possible scenarios for when they arrived in Metropolis. He was still trying to figure out what had gone wrong with the  portal, why they’d ended up split up in the first place. But for now, the priority was finding Peter and Clint and getting some answers.

Bruce, as usual, was lost in thought. “I still don’t understand. Where is everyone else? Why are Peter and Clint alone?”

“I don’t know, Banner. But I’ll find them.” Tony’s voice softened with a rare moment of seriousness. “I’m not leaving this place until I do.”

Chapter Text

The sirens had faded behind them, but the echo of them still hung in the air. By the time the three of them were outside Star City limits, it was already getting dark, that kind of deep orange glow where you could still see, but the world was about to shut off for the night.

Kurt, Scott, and Steve trudged along a cracked backroad, the city lights shrinking behind them until they were just little specks on the horizon. The fields on either side stretched out forever, patchy grass and the occasional fence that had definitely seen better days.

Scott was muttering under his breath, for what felt like the hundredth time. “Can’t believe this. Can’t believe we’re in, wherever the hell this is, with no idea where the others are, no money, no comms, and I’m wearing a dumpster hoodie.”

Steve shot him a look. “You done?”

Scott didn’t look up. “No.”

Kurt walked a few steps ahead, tail wrapped around his waist, ears twitching at every sound. He looked over his shoulder and said, “Ve could have stayed in the city.”

“You mean the city where people screamed and called you a monster?” Scott said dryly. “Yeah, real welcoming crowd.”

Kurt frowned, his eyes dimming a little. “They were just… surprised.”

“Pretty sure ‘surprised’ isn’t the word when someone’s screaming like they’re in a horror movie,” Scott muttered.

Steve exhaled slowly. He was tired, physically and mentally. The soldier in him wanted to take control, to find a base, regroup, plan. But there wasn’t much to plan when they were three strangers in an unknown world with no resources, and no idea how to get home.

He scanned the horizon. “We’ll keep walking until we find something, anything with a roof. We just need a place to rest for the night. Then we’ll figure out our next move in the morning.”

“Assuming we don’t get arrested before then,” Scott said under his breath.

Kurt’s ears flicked again. “You know, I can teleport us if you vant.”

Steve shook his head. “No. Not yet. We don’t know how people here react to… that kind of thing.”

Kurt shrugged. “They did not react well to my face, so maybe poofing in front of them is not the best idea either.”

“Exactly,” Steve said, scanning the darkening fields ahead. “Let’s just keep moving.”

It took them another twenty minutes before they spotted it, an old, leaning barn sitting at the edge of what used to be a farm. The roof was half-collapsed, and the paint had long since peeled off the wood, but it was still standing. And more importantly, it was empty.

Scott was the first to speak. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Steve gave him a look. “What?”

“This is where we’re sleeping?” Scott gestured at the barn. “It looks like one strong breeze could knock it down.”

“You want to go back to the city?” Steve asked flatly.

Scott paused. “…No.”

“Then it’ll do.”

They pushed the heavy barn doors open. Inside, it smelled like dust and old hay. The floor creaked under their boots, but there were no signs of animals, no people, no nothing. Just quiet.

Kurt looked around, setting down his jacket near one of the beams. “It’s not so bad,” he said, trying to sound optimistic. “I’ve slept in worse.”

Scott shot him a look. “When?”

“Once. In a monastery attic full of bats,” Kurt said, shrugging. “They were very polite, though.”

Steve actually chuckled at that, shaking his head. “Alright, everyone pick a spot and try to get some rest. We’ll move out at sunrise.”

Scott leaned against a wall, arms crossed, still grumbling to himself. “Multiverse travel, they said. It’ll be fine, they said.”

Kurt was already curled up in a corner, tail flicking lazily. “At least ve are alive,” he mumbled, eyes already closing.

Steve sat near the open door, watching the stars start to come out over the fields. 

The train ride had been long. Too long, really.

Tony Stark, Thor, and Bruce Banner had spent most of the night on a train headed to Metropolis. The rhythmic hum of the train car was enough to lull Tony into a kind of restless doze, but every time he tried to close his eyes, his mind flashed to the kids, Dick, Jason, Damian, Tim, especially Tim, and the mess they’d made back at his lab. The portal disaster. How it had brought all of them to this strange dimension.

And still, he had no answers.

Bruce, sitting across from Tony, was lost in his thoughts. He kept his arms crossed tightly, not wanting to let the unease in him show too much. He, too, was still reeling. The kids… they weren’t just random troublemakers. They were trained by someone called Bruce Wayne. But who the hell was Bruce Wayne in this world? Why had they all ended up here? What was this place even about?

Thor, on the other hand, didn’t care much for questions. He’d spent the entire train ride trying to start conversations about the gods of this realm, comparing them to the ones from his own universe. Most of the time, Tony tuned him out. His attention was solely on Peter’s tracker. He couldn’t help but check it every few minutes, as if it would suddenly give him the answers he was looking for.

“I swear, if we don’t find them soon, I’m going to lose it,” Tony muttered as he fiddled with the tracker, trying to get a clearer reading. “We’re this close, I can feel it.”

“You’re always this close,” Bruce said dryly. “And somehow, you always end up further away.”

Tony shot him a look but didn’t respond. Instead, he just kept his eyes trained on the tracker. The blue dot representing Peter was moving now.

“Well, I’m feeling optimistic,” Thor said, his voice booming in the train car. “What do you think, Stark? We’ll arrive like champions, no doubt. Perhaps we should enter with a grand gesture?” He spread his arms wide as if he were about to make a heroic entrance.

“Right. Because that won’t attract every hero in the city,” Tony muttered under his breath.

Finally, the train pulled into the Metropolis station, and Tony, Thor, and Bruce got off, immediately making their way through the busy streets. The city felt… too clean. Too perfect. Everyone walked like they had a purpose, and there was an air of confidence in the way people moved.

They followed Peter’s tracker through the city, weaving through crowds and dodging street vendors hawking Metropolis-themed trinkets.

“Why do I have this feeling like we’re about to find them in the most ridiculous spot possible?” Tony asked, glancing up at the towering skyscrapers around them.

“I don’t know, but I’m sure it’ll be somewhere strange,” Bruce said, his eyes scanning the area. “I’m starting to get the impression that this place has a thing for superheroes. And if they’re like us… I doubt anyone will be surprised by a group like ours.”

“Superheroes, you say?” Thor piped up. “I have seen a god or two here.”

“Yeah,” Tony said absently. “Probably.”

Eventually, they found themselves standing in front of a brightly lit souvenir shop. The large windows displayed all kinds of cheesy Metropolis-themed mugs, T-shirts, and keychains.

“That’s it,” Tony said, his voice barely above a whisper. “That’s where Peter is. I can’t believe it. A souvenir shop.”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Are we sure? I mean… this doesn’t exactly look like a ‘serious’ hideout.”

Tony ignored him and marched inside, with Thor and Bruce following closely behind.

Inside the store, they were greeted by the sight of Peter Parker, spidersuit-less, normal clothes, standing in front of a display case of miniature Metropolis buildings, a hotdog in one hand, an oversized stuffed toy in the other, and a huge, childlike grin on his face.

“Peter,” Tony said, his voice filled with a mix of relief and exasperation.

Peter turned, the grin on his face growing even wider when he saw Tony, Thor, and Bruce. “Oh, hey, guys!” He waved the hotdog around, somehow managing to make it look like an invitation. “You won’t believe how different everything is here! I even got a souvenir! Look at this!” He held up the stuffed toy with both hands, some kind of bizarre bat thing.

Clint Barton stood next to him, arms folded and wearing an expression of absolute disdain, though his eyes softened when he saw the three of them. “Tony,” Clint said flatly. “What are you doing here?”

Tony shot Clint a look. “What am I doing here? You’re the one in a souvenir shop, Clint. With Peter.” He threw up his hands. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

“Hey, we were just exploring!” Peter interjected, the excitement still dancing in his eyes. “Everything is new here! I mean, look at this place! I think we should get something else, though, do they have Metropolis-themed socks?”

Clint closed his eyes in frustration. “Yeah, Peter, because that’s what we need right now.”

“Okay, okay, let’s get to business,” Tony said, his voice cutting through the back-and-forth. “I need to know why you two are in Metropolis. We’ve been tracking you for hours, and this-” He gestured to the shop. “-this is not exactly how I imagined we’d reunite.”

Peter’s grin faltered for a second as he finally realized that Tony was serious. “Oh. Uh, right. So, about that. We’re just, uh, figuring things out.”

“You’re not supposed to be on vacation,” Bruce muttered, his arms still crossed tightly.

“Yeah, well, he don’t exactly see any other options,” Clint said, sounding more annoyed than Peter.

The road out of Metropolis was long, cracked in places, and stretched endlessly toward a distant skyline. The air smelled faintly of summer rain and car exhaust, and the faint glow of Metropolis faded behind them with every step.

“Tell me again,” Clint said, adjusting the strap of his bag for the hundredth time, “why we couldn’t take the train?”

“Because someone,” Tony said, shooting Peter a sideways glance, “decided to spend half their cash on souvenirs, and my pockets, believe it or not, are not infinite when it comes to interdimensional currency.”

Peter immediately looked guilty, clutching the alien plushie from earlier closer to his chest. “It was buy one, get one free! How was I supposed to just walk away?”

“By walking away,” Bruce said dryly, not even looking up from the small tablet in his hands.

Thor, who was walking slightly ahead of the group, turned back to grin at them. “This is nothing compared to the hikes we take in Asgard! Why, once, I walked from the mountains of Jotunheim to the gates of-”

“Yeah, yeah, save the bedtime story, Point Break,” Tony cut in. “We’ve got about another… three hours to Gotham if we keep walking. Longer if Spider-Boy here keeps stopping to pick up rocks.”

Peter looked down at the small rock in his hand and sheepishly dropped it. “It looked cool,” he muttered.

“Of course it did,” Clint said, rolling his eyes.

They continued walking, their footsteps crunching on gravel and dirt. The occasional car whooshed past on the road beside them, headlights flickering over their tired faces.

Tony had been quiet for a while, tapping idly on his tablet as the tracker updated. Finally, he spoke. “All right, team meeting, such as it is. We’ve got a lead.”

Bruce looked up. “You mean about the kids?”

“Yeah,” Tony said. “Turns out our little home invaders, Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian, aren’t just random tech geniuses. They’re the adopted kids of some billionaire here named Bruce Wayne.”

Peter’s head snapped toward him. “Wait, Bruce Wayne? Like, the super rich guy with all those commercials about Wayne Enterprises?”

“The very same,” Tony said. “And guess who’s hosting a gala tonight?”

“Bruce Wayne?” Peter guessed.

“Ten points to Spiderling,” Tony said. “Which means that’s our next stop. If anyone knows why the kids built that portal, or what this universe even is, it’s him.”

Clint groaned. “A gala? Seriously? You want us to sneak into a fancy party after hiking for hours?”

“I’m sorry, did I miss the part where you had a better plan?” Tony said without slowing his pace. “We can’t exactly knock on Wayne’s door and say, ‘Hey, your kids may have broken the universe.’”

Peter frowned slightly. “So… we’re just going to crash a rich guy’s party?”

“More or less,” Bruce said, sounding as though the idea didn’t surprise him in the least.

Thor threw an arm around Peter’s shoulders, almost knocking him off balance. “Do not worry, young Parker! I shall blend in perfectly at a gala! I’ve attended many grand feasts in Asgard!”

“Yeah, those don’t count,” Clint muttered. “Nobody’s serving roasted boar and mead at this one.”

Peter laughed softly, then his expression sobered. “Do you think Jason and Dick will be there?”

“Probably,” Tony said. “Rich guy’s kids, public event, it tracks. If we’re lucky, we can talk to them before they vanish again.”

Bruce glanced over at Tony. “And if we’re unlucky?”

“Then we’ll at least get free hors d’oeuvres,” Tony said with a shrug. 

The group fell silent for a while, the quiet filled only by the steady rhythm of their boots against the dirt. The lights of Metropolis had vanished completely now, replaced by open fields and the faint glimmer of Gotham’s skyline in the distance.

Peter eventually broke the silence. “So… what about Kurt, Scott, and Captain? Any word from them?”

The question made Tony’s shoulders tighten. He didn’t answer right away. When he did, his voice was lower. “No. Nothing yet.”

Peter frowned. “Do you think they’re still here? In this world, I mean?”

“I don’t know,” Tony admitted. “But we don’t have time to look for them right now. Gotham’s our best lead. If they’re smart, they’ll head there too.”

Clint gave him a skeptical look. “So the plan is ‘hope they show up?’”

“Exactly,” Tony said. “It’s a classic Stark strategy. Works about fifty percent of the time.”

“Comforting,” Clint said flatly.

Peter looked down at his hands, his voice quiet. “I just hope they’re okay.”

Tony slowed for a moment, glancing back at him. “They will be, kid. They always are.”

Thor clapped Peter’s back with enough force to almost knock him forward. “Aye! Fear not, young spider! If fate wills it, we shall all reunite at this gala of yours!”

“Please stop calling it my gala,” Peter mumbled.

Bruce exhaled through his nose, trying not to smile. “You know, considering everything, this could actually work.”

Tony smirked. “Of course it will. When have my plans ever gone wrong?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow. “Do you want the short list or the long one?”

“Ha-ha,” Tony said dryly.

As the group crested a small hill, Gotham finally came into view, its skyline sharp and shadowy against the darkening sky. The city looked nothing like Metropolis; it was colder, older.

Tony looked down toward it, determination flickering in his eyes. “All right, team. Let’s go crash a billionaire’s party.”

Peter groaned softly. “This is gonna end terribly, isn’t it?”

Clint adjusted his bag. “Oh, definitely.”

Thor grinned. “Then it shall be glorious.”

Chapter Text

The road leading up to Wayne Manor wound through the hills like something out of a painting,dark trees, wet cobblestones, and just enough mist to make it feel like a gothic movie set. By the time Tony and the others reached the estate’s outer gates, the night sky was filled with low clouds, and faint music could already be heard drifting from the mansion beyond.

Even Clint had to admit it was impressive.
The place looked less like a home and more like a small museum, massive stone pillars, glowing chandeliers visible through high arched windows, and a line of expensive cars gleaming under the lamplight.

“Rich people sure know how to overcompensate,” Clint muttered, pulling at the collar of his rented suit.

“Careful,” Tony said without looking up as he adjusted his cufflinks. “You’re about to walk into the home of the biggest overcompensator in this universe. Guy’s got gargoyles on his roof.”

“Still can’t believe you managed to rent suits for us,” Peter said, tugging nervously at his tie. His was slightly crooked.

“I have my ways,” Tony said, glancing at him. “And for the record, I couldn’t afford five train tickets and four suits, so we all made sacrifices.”

Clint shot him a look. “Yeah. My feet are still mad about that.”

Thor, standing beside the gate in full armor, puffed out his chest proudly. “I am most honored to remain on guard! I shall defend your possessions with the might of Mjölnir!”

“Yeah, you do that,” Tony said dryly. “Try not to blow anything up if someone asks for directions.”

Thor grinned. “Fear not, Stark! I will blend in perfectly.”

“Uh-huh,” Tony said. “Which is why you’re staying outside.”

Thor frowned, looking genuinely disappointed. “Why must I be left behind? Surely my presence would inspire great respect at such a gathering!”

“Or great panic,” Bruce muttered under his breath.

Tony clasped Thor’s shoulder. “You’re loud, you glow, and your definition of ‘small talk’ involves describing frost giants. So yeah, you’re on babysitting duty. Keep an eye on our stuff. Don’t let anyone touch it.”

Thor crossed his arms but eventually nodded. “Very well. I shall guard their belongings with my life.”

“Appreciated,” Tony said. “Now, let’s go over the plan one last time.”

They stepped just off the path, under the shadow of an old oak tree. The sound of laughter and orchestral music carried faintly through the night air. The manor’s entrance shimmered with golden light.

Tony activated a small holographic display from his wrist, blue light illuminating their faces. “All right, team. This is how we do it. We get in, we blend in, we find one of the kids we recognize, Tim, Dick, Jason, or Damian, and we ask a few polite, non-threatening questions.”

Peter raised a hand. “Define polite?”

“Not webbing anyone to a wall,” Tony said without missing a beat.

Peter lowered his hand. “Right. Got it.”

Bruce tilted his head slightly. “And what exactly do we say when we find them? ‘Hey, remember that time you broke into Tony’s lab and opened an interdimensional hole in reality?’”

Tony smirked. “Something like that, yeah. Maybe with fewer words.”

Clint folded his arms. “And if this rich guy, Bruce Wayne, shows up?”

“Then we play it cool,” Tony said. “Smile, shake hands, act like we belong there.”

“You sure we can pull that off?” Clint asked.

Tony glanced over the group. Peter fidgeting with his tie, Bruce straightening his cuffs like he was heading into a job interview, and Clint himself looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. He sighed.

“Honestly? Not really,” Tony admitted. “But we’ll fake it till we make it.”

Peter looked up at the mansion, the faintest hint of nerves in his voice. “So this Bruce Wayne guy… he’s their dad?”

“Adoptive,” Tony said. “Rich, reclusive, apparently big into weapons collecting.”

Bruce frowned slightly. “That doesn’t sound comforting.”

“Yeah, well,” Tony said, powering off the hologram, “neither did the whole ‘breaking into Stark Tower’ part, and yet here we are.”

Clint shoved his hands into his pockets. “So the big question is, why’d they do it?”

“That’s what we’re gonna find out,” Tony said. “And if they are here tonight, then this is our shot to get some answers.”

He glanced back once more at Thor, who was humming proudly beside a large duffel bag. “All right, big guy. Hold down the fort.”

Thor saluted him with a grin. “Aye! May your infiltration be subtle and glorious!”

Tony muttered, “Subtle’s a long shot,” and started toward the gate.

The guard at the front didn’t question them, Tony Stark in a suit had a way of exuding authority, even in another universe. Within minutes, they were walking up the grand staircase toward the manor’s glowing entrance, the low hum of conversation and music growing louder.

As they approached the door, Peter whispered, “So, what’s the plan if they recognize us first?”

Tony gave a small, knowing smile. “Then we improvise.”

“Right,” Clint muttered. “Because that’s never gone wrong before.”

Bruce glanced at Tony. “You sure about this?”

Tony looked at the glowing windows of Wayne Manor, at the swirl of light and laughter beyond, and then back at his team. “Nope,” he said. “But it’s the best lead we’ve got.”

They exchanged a quick look before stepping through the grand double doors.

The instant they entered, warm light flooded over them. Crystal chandeliers sparkled above. Music from a live orchestra filled the air. Dozens of the city’s elite mingled, glasses of champagne in hand.

Peter’s eyes went wide. “Whoa.”

Clint gave a low whistle. “Okay, yeah, this guy’s definitely loaded.”

Tony straightened his jacket and murmured under his breath, “All right, Wayne kids… let’s see what secrets you’ve got.”

Outside, Thor leaned against the gate, humming to himself and watching the stars. A soft wind brushed past him, carrying the faint echo of laughter from inside. He looked down at the pile of bags he was guarding and nodded approvingly.

“All is well,” he said proudly to no one in particular. “Truly, the easiest mission I’ve ever had.”

If Tony had one skill that worked in every universe, it was pretending he belonged somewhere.

The Wayne Gala was nothing short of extravagant, chandeliers that probably cost more than a car, polished marble floors that could blind someone if they caught the light wrong, and a crowd of people who looked like they hadn’t worked a day in their lives.

Perfect camouflage for Tony Stark.

He smiled, adjusted his tie, and slipped seamlessly into a conversation with a group of businessmen near the champagne fountain. He didn’t recognize a single one of them. Didn’t even try to. But it didn’t matter. They weren’t asking questions, they were just talking about themselves.

“Of course, the market’s unpredictable right now,” one of them was saying. “Wayne Enterprises is still holding steady, though.”

“Wayne Enterprises?” Tony repeated, pretending to know what that was. “Yeah. Big fans. Love their… stuff.”

“Indeed,” another man said, swirling his drink. “LexCorp is the real competitor, though. You have to respect Luthor’s innovation.”

Tony nodded sagely. “Of course. LexCorp. Great hair, right?”

The group blinked at him, clearly unsure if that was a joke. Tony took a sip of champagne to avoid explaining himself and decided to move on before anyone asked him what company he worked for.

Behind him, Bruce (Banner, not Wayne) trailed like a silent shadow. His hands were tucked into his pockets, head slightly down, eyes scanning everything like he’d rather melt into the walls. He hadn’t said a single word since they walked in.

“You doing okay, big guy?” Tony asked under his breath.

Bruce’s lips twitched. “Define okay.”

“Not green,” Tony said. “I’ll take that as a win.”

Clint, meanwhile, was attempting to mingle on the other side of the room. Attempting being the key word.

He had a glass in his hand and was standing in a circle of socialites who were deep in a discussion about art galleries and vacation homes. Clint hadn’t contributed a single word, mostly because he didn’t know what to say that wouldn’t immediately out him as someone who’d once slept in a subway tunnel.

“So where are you from?” one woman asked brightly.

Clint blinked. “Uh… Queens.”

“Oh! Do you work in finance?”

He hesitated. “You could say that.”

Tony spotted him from across the room, raised an eyebrow, and mouthed, Finance?

Clint just shrugged helplessly.

And then there was Peter.

Peter had somehow found his way toward the hors d'oeuvres table and was standing there with a plate in one hand, looking like a kid pretending to be an adult at a wedding. He was trying really hard to look normal, straight posture, polite smile, nodding along to whatever some guy in a tux was saying about “the importance of community outreach.”

He didn’t even notice the small, dark-haired child weaving through the crowd toward him.

Damian had been watching from across the room for ten minutes now, eyes narrowing every time he caught sight of Peter Parker’s face. He knew that face. He knew all of their faces. The intruders from that other universe.

He should’ve gone to tell his father. Or Tim. Or literally anyone.

Instead, he picked up the nearest fork.

He moved like a shadow, quiet, precise, absolute focus. The crowd parted just enough for him to close the distance. He was this close to driving the fork into Peter’s thigh when-

“Damian.”

A hand caught his wrist mid-swing.

Dick Grayson’s voice was calm, but his expression was pure panic. “Not here.”

Damian froze, glaring at him. “He’s one of them.”

“I know,” Dick hissed, dragging the fork out of his hand before anyone noticed. “We’ll deal with it. Later.”

“But-”

“No buts. Put the fork down.”

Damian scowled, crossing his arms as Dick subtly shoved the weapon onto a nearby tray of hors d'oeuvres.

Across the room, Peter finally looked up, blinking. 

Dick pinched the bridge of his nose. “Oh my god.”

“Don’t do anything else,” Dick muttered quickly. “I’m telling Bruce.”

Damian pouted but didn’t argue.

Dick straightened his tie, plastered on a polite smile, and started making his way through the crowd toward where his father was standing near some senator. He looked calm, composed, friendly. But underneath that, his pulse was racing.

Because of course the portal people were here.

Meanwhile, Tony was just trying to survive small talk and free alcohol when it happened.

He’d turned to grab another drink when someone bumped into him hard enough to spill champagne down the front of his suit jacket.

“Ah, crap-!” Tony stepped back, staring down at the spreading wet patch. “This is why I can’t have nice things.”

“I’m so sor-!”

The voice froze him mid-sentence.

He looked up. The face staring back at him was familiar.

Tim Drake.

For one horrible second, neither of them spoke.

Tim’s brain short-circuited. Oh no. Oh no. Oh no.

Tony’s did the same. 

They both stood there, glasses in hand, frozen in the middle of a crowded ballroom like two deer caught in headlights.

Tim’s mouth opened and closed. “Mr. Stark- I mean, uh- sorry-”

Tony blinked. “No- yeah- I, uh-” He gestured weakly to his soaked jacket. “Happens. All the time. With… interns. I mean, people. With people.”

Tim just stared at him, clearly running through every possible excuse in his head. His brain helpfully supplied exactly zero of them.

Tony, meanwhile, was desperately calculating whether he could afford to replace the rental suit if he fainted on the spot.

Around them, the crowd continued talking, completely oblivious.

Tony cleared his throat, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly. “You, uh… you been keeping busy?”

“Busy? Yeah. Totally. Busy.” Tim nodded way too fast. “Work’s… good. Things are… good.”

“Right,” Tony said, forcing a smile. “Good talk.”

“Yeah,” Tim said faintly. “Real good.”

They both stood there in mutual, soul-crushing awkwardness for a moment too long.

Finally, Tony muttered, “Gonna- uh- go find a napkin.”

“Yeah,” Tim said. “I should- uh- go anywhere else.”

They both turned in opposite directions and walked away, still stiff as boards.

Tony reached Bruce and Clint near the back of the room, eyes wide, jacket dripping.

Clint looked him up and down. “That go well?”

Tony took a deep breath. “Clint, I just got recognized by a teenage genius with a champagne glass and a nervous system made of pure anxiety.”

Bruce frowned. “So… not well?”

“Not terribly well,” Tony said.

Across the room, Dick had reached his father and was whispering urgently in his ear. Bruce Wayne’s expression didn’t change, but his eyes flicked toward the group of unfamiliar faces now standing near the bar.

Tony caught the look and muttered under his breath, “Oh, great. The dad’s seen us.”

Peter was still obliviously chatting with a server about the flavor of the hors d'oeuvres.

“Do you think we can still play it cool?” Clint asked quietly.

Tony looked at him, at the slowly approaching Wayne patriarch, and sighed. “Define cool.”

Chapter Text

Bruce Wayne approached like he had not just been told his adopted children had accidentally brought interdimensional people to their universe.

He was all charm, all easy smiles, and had the exact posture of a man who both owned the room and was extremely bored by the fact.

“Gentlemen,” Bruce said smoothly, stopping in front of Tony, Clint, Banner, and Peter. “I couldn’t help but notice you seem a little out of place. Thought I’d come over and welcome you personally.”

Tony blinked, forced a smile, and whispered behind him, “Why is he doing my bit? He’s doing my bit.”

Clint elbowed him. “Tony, that’s a billionaire.”

“I know, Clint. His hair has better volume than mine. It’s infuriating.”

Bruce continued, oblivious. “My apologies about the crowd. Galas can be… suffocating. If anyone needs to freshen up, I have spare suits, private rooms, that sort of thing.”

Tony’s eyes narrowed. “Are you offering me a suit?”

“Of course,” Bruce said, smiling as if this were normal behavior. “Hate to see someone uncomfortable at my party.”

Tony looked down at his still–champagne-stained rental jacket. “You just want to take me somewhere private, don’t you?”

Bruce blinked slowly. “Yes.”

“…Right,” Tony said. “Cool. Totally normal.”

Banner quietly murmured, “We don’t have to go if this is weird-”

“No, no, we’re going,” Tony said. “I want to see what brand of suit he thinks fits me.”

Peter grinned, bouncing on his heels. “Oooh, are we going to the fancy part of the fancy house?”

Clint sighed. “Kid, literally every part of this house is fancy. Even the bathrooms probably cost more than my apartment.”

“Please,” Tony muttered. “Even the plants probably cost more than your apartment.”

Bruce turned and gestured with two fingers, the international sign for follow me before someone overhears the universe-shattering secrets we all apparently share now.

They began walking, Bruce Wayne looking composed and elegant.
Tony looking like he wanted to challenge him to a charisma duel.
Banner looking like he wanted to leave his own body.
Clint looking like he wanted a drink.
Peter looking like he was on a museum tour.

They were just about to slip past a staff hallway door when-

Screaming.
Loud, chaotic screaming.

Tony froze. “Oh great. Somebody dropped a plate.”

Peter squinted. “Uh… I don’t think that’s a plate.”

A guest sprinted past them, nearly tripping over their own shoes, yelling something no one could understand. 

Tony blinked. “…Never mind.”

The screaming grew louder, and then-

BANG.
BANG BANG.
CRASH.

“HA! If it ain’t a party, it is NOW!” a shrill, delighted voice shouted.

People scattered. Champagne fountains toppled. A catering table went flying as if punted by a rhinoceros.

Bruce Wayne vanished.

Like, gone. One blink, he was there. The next, nothing.

“Wow,” Peter whispered. “Dude’s faster than Quicksilver.”

“He probably just ducked under a table,” Tony said. “Rich people are slippery.”

Clint pointed. “Uh- speaking of slippery-”

Bursting through the crowd came a woman in glitter-smudged makeup, pigtails, and enough chaotic energy to power a small country. She swung a giant mallet around like she was conducting a symphony she did not understand.

Behind her was a tall, gorgeous redhead covered in more vines than a botanical garden. She looked calm. Very calm. Suspiciously calm.

“Okay,” Banner said carefully. “So… who are they.”

“No clue,” Tony said. 

“You sure she’s not one of your exes?” Clint muttered.

Tony shot him a glare.

Harley jumped onto a table, sending silverware everywhere, and screamed,
“ALRIGHT YA SNOBS! EVERYONE HAND OVER YOUR WALLETS, OR YOUR SHOES, OR YOUR DIAMONDS, OR- OOH IS THAT SHRIMP? I WANT THAT SHRIMP!”

“Very specific list,” Peter murmured.

Ivy raised a hand lazily. Vines began sliding across the marble like snakes. “Harley, focus.”

“I am! I’m focusing super hard!”

Guests kept screaming. Peter ducked behind an overturned table with Tony, Clint, and Banner.

“This is fine,” Tony lied. “We’ve handled worse. Like the portal exploding. Or interdimensional teens. Or Thor having a tantrum.”

Clint poked his head up. “We need our gear.”

Tony tapped his comm.
“Thor? Hey, sunshine? I need you to bring Peter’s slingers, Clint’s bow, and absolutely do not burst into the room-”

“Why not?” Peter whispered.

Tony hissed, “Because then he’s gonna destroy everything in this place!”

“Uh,” Clint said, “where’s Bruce Wayne? Didn’t he go with us?”

Peter blinked. “He disappeared faster than my homework motivation.”

“Focus,” Tony said. “We pretend to be normal civilians until Thor gets here.”

“Great,” Banner muttered. “Because we’re all so good at subtlety.”

“Hey, I can be subtle!” Peter protested.

At that exact moment, Harley Quinn stopped mid-chaos, tilted her head like a confused golden retriever, pointed directly at Peter, and yelled across the ballroom:

“YO! SPARKLY BOY! GOT A WALLET?”

Peter froze. “Sparkly boy??”

Clint nodded. “You do glow sometimes, kid.”

“I DO NOT.”

“You kinda do,” Tony said.

Ivy sighed. “Harley, stop yelling at civilians.”

“They won’t give me money if I ask nicely, Ivy!”

Tony groaned into his hands. 

Chaos continued around them, people running, vines growing, Harley screaming something about milkshakes.

Tony was already tapping his comm again, muttering,
“Thor, I swear to god, get in here before I commit a crime.”

Thor did not burst straight through the gala hall doors like he clearly wanted to.
Tony had yelled through comms: “Use a SIDE entrance. And DO NOT break anything expensive!”

Thor took this as
“Break something slightly less expensive.”

So a minute later, somewhere down the hallway, a window absolutely detonated inward with a crack like the end of the world.

Every guest in the vicinity screamed.
Thor stepped into view, brushing glass off himself like a man checking dandruff.

“I used a side entry!” he announced proudly.

Tony pinched the bridge of his nose. “Yeah. Nailed it.”

Thor came barreling down the hallway toward them, arms full of extremely conspicuous items: Peter’s mask, Clint’s quiver, Clint’s bow, Peter’s web shooters, and Mjolnir dangling casually from one finger like a purse.

“Here, friends!" Thor boomed. “Your weapons of justice-”

“ShhSHHHH, THOR-” Tony slapped a hand over Thor’s mouth like he could physically press the volume down.

But it was too late.
Harley and Ivy snapped their heads towards the newcomers just as Peter yanked his mask on and Clint snatched his bow protectively.

Except the second Harley saw the bow, she lit up like a raccoon spotting an unsecured trash can.

“AHA! Knock-off Robin Hood!” she cackled, pointing at Clint. “And I thought the rich people here couldn’t get any tackier.”

Clint closed his eyes. “I am BEGGING the universe to give me ONE DAY… ONE DAY WITHOUT A ROBIN HOOD JOKE.”

“Aw c’mon,” Harley snorted. “What? You wanna be Green Arrow instead? Sorry sugar, wrong city!”

Clint actually made a sound like a dying toaster.

Before he could argue, Harley charged him, mallet swinging. Clint tried to fire an arrow, except Harley smacked the arrow out of the air before it got proper momentum.

“HEY HEY- NO- THIS IS CUSTOM MADE- STOP TRYING TO BREAK MY BOW-”

“What, this twig?” Harley taunted, trying to grab it.

“It’s NOT a twig!”
Clint had no room to shoot, no room to breathe, no room to do anything except drop the bow and go full hand-to-hand.

And Harley?
Harley treated fistfighting like it was a dance battle hosted inside a blender. Pure chaos.

Meanwhile Ivy had immediately gone for Peter and Thor.

Peter shot a web,
Ivy flicked two fingers,

and a vine smacked him so hard he went horizontal for a moment.

Peter hit the ground with a squeak.
Thor tried to charge in-

WHAM.
Vines wrapped his ankle and yanked him off balance so fast he dropped Mjolnir on his own shin.

He didn’t even react, because of course, it was Thor.
He just blinked at the vine like it had committed a personal insult.

“How DARE you,” he boomed, grabbing the plant and ripping it like tissue paper.

Ivy rolled her eyes.

Peter tried again, leaping up with a flip to get behind her-

Then one single vine yeeted him back into a priceless decorative statue.

“NOT THE STATUE-” Tony yelled, running forward only to stop himself because he still couldn’t blow his cover.

Peter groaned somewhere under the marble debris. “I’m fiiiiine! I’m pretty sure I’m fine! Probably fine!”

Thor swung Mjolnir, sending a shockwave that blew every tablecloth in the room upward like dramatic ghosts.

Harley ducked behind a table.
“Babe!” she called to Ivy, “We gettin’ our butts kicked or what?!”

Ivy, casually flipping a vine like a whip:
“No. They’re just very annoying.”

Peter crawled back to his feet, mask crooked. “Okay. New plan. Maybe don’t let the plant lady hit you- ow.”

Clint ducked a mallet swing to the face, sliding under Harley’s legs and popping up behind her.

“WE ARE HAVING A VERY HARD TIME ADJUSTING TO THIS UNIVERSE!” he yelled.

“Cry about it!” Harley chirped, swinging the mallet backward without even looking. Clint barely dodged.

Tony still wasn’t fighting, just pacing behind cover, muttering:

“Don’t use the suit, don’t use the suit… Banner, for the love of god, do not Hulk out in someone’s mansion-”

Banner raised both hands. “I’m standing RIGHT HERE? I’m not even doing anything!”

Clint got knocked backward through a catering table right besides Banner.
Thor got thrown across the room by a mass of vines like a ragdoll in a tornado.
Peter attempted a heroic swinging kick, missed, and accidentally kicked a chandelier instead.

The chandelier survived.
Peter’s dignity did not.

Tony sighed, folding his arms.
“Well. At least nobody’s dying. Yet.”

Harley paused mid-swing to shout at Thor:

“HEY! Blondie! Nice hammer! compensating for something?!”

Thor, offended beyond measure, gasped like she had slapped him in the face.

Meanwhile, Ivy wrapped three vines around Peter, lifted him off the ground like an annoyed cat mom.

Peter flailed, yelling, “Clint! Thor! Someone! I am being aggressively photosynthesized!”

Clint, still fistfighting Harley: “ I’M A LITTLE BUSY-”

Harley laughed, spun her mallet like a baton, and cracked the floor inches from Clint’s face.

“You guys are FUN!” she squealed. “Gala nights are SO boring normally!”

Thor tried to tug Peter free but Ivy simply smacked him through another table.

Tony finally yelled, “Okay, LISTEN UP- once we get thirty seconds to breathe, we are regrouping, planning, and stopping this clown-plant-terrorist duo-”

“HEY.” Harley shouted mid-battle. “WE’RE A COUPLE. PUT SOME RESPECT ON IT.”

Peter nodded vigorously while upside-down in the vines.
“Yeah honestly good for you guys! We need more female villains- ow ow OW- please be gentle-”