Peter's nose ached, even through his suit. The smell of Gotham's sewage tunnels were pungent and he almost wanted to just detach his nose from his face.

"Ugh," he groaned as his legs moved against the water inside the tunnel, "I hate the sewers." Slade, decked out in full Deathstroke costume, scoffed from in front of him above the swishing noises.

"Sweetheart, who likes sewers?"

"Homicidal clowns, obviously," he muttered and he heard his partner chuckling from underneath his breath. "It's nice that you find my suffering amusing, Slade." The mercenary's silhouette shrugged. It was too dark in the sewer to see much, even with superpowers.

"My revenge for keeping something so big from me," Slade said, and through the blackness, Peter thought he saw the mercenary's head turn to check on him.

'Must be night vision cameras in his mask,' Peter thinks before he replies.

"What was I supposed to do? Say to a guy I barely know, 'Hey, my name's Peter Parker and I have superpowers I got from a spider on a fieldtrip in another world?'" He could feel Slade pause, his outline halting against the current.
"What?" He asked, confused.

"You're from another world?" Peter tilted his head, then thought back, and realized that, yeah, he hasn't told anyone that he's from another world yet. One where they're all fictional characters and definitely not in the mafia. Oops.

"Uh, I didn't tell you that?" His voice was higher than usual and his nervousness was palpable. At least, to Slade it was.

"No, you didn't." They continued moving and Slade was silent for a while, just feeling the anxiety rolling off Peter in waves. "So," Peter jumped a bit and Slade had to keep himself from laughing, "what was your world like?"

"Well, first off, there's no Bruce Wayne or you or Dick Grayson or Tim Drake, or Jason Todd, or Damian Wayne, or anyone we know very well in my world. At least, they're not there in real life."

"What does that mean?"

"You guys are fictional characters in a comic book. A superhero comic book." Slade rolled that over in his head.

"A comic book?" Peter nodded, then realizing that Slade can't physically see him.

"Yup. Bruce is still the Batman, but a vigilante at night instead of a mob boss. His son's are also the same. Nightwing, Red Hood, Red Robin, and Robin, but vigilantes instead of the mob. Steph and Babs are there too, and so is Harley and the Joker. Now that I think about it, there's not much here that's different from canon besides their occupations."

"Canon?" The water around their legs became still, no current flowing. Peter's voice became a whisper.

"It's what happens in the original storyline according to the original author or creators." Slade hummed and pulled out his guns from their holsters.

"And how am I in this canon?" Peter shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't know the comic books that well. I just know that you're Dick's sworn enemy. At least, in the comic book world you were. Apparently here, you're not."
Slade nodded and the atmosphere turned awkward.

"We dated. For a little while." The mercenary, for some reason, felt the need to explain this to Peter. It just felt right to. "We broke up because of...differences." Peter bobbed his head.

"Makes sense. The Wayne family is pretty intense." Slade snorted.

"You would know, wouldn't you, sweetheart?" Peter didn't dignify that with a response. His ears perked up as something came towards them.

Peter prepared himself, web shooters on the ready and Karen waiting for his command to activate Instant Kill Mode. Slade tensed himself, guns and swords at the ready. Through his super hearing, Peter could sense multiple bodies as they waded throughout the water. Heartbeats reached his ears. They were alive.

Peter, who was behind the mercenary, tapped Slade's shoulder and reached for the wall next to him, hoisting himself up and climbing into the darkness of the ceiling, shadowed and hidden. The sounds came closer. The duo waited in their positions, both crouched and ready to fight whoever was on the other side of the corner.

Finally, the, who Peter assumed were enemies, people came and rounded the corner, Slade pounced forward, and Peter for a split second wanted to see the mercenary in action. That prompted him to hesitate, to wait and watch as Slade attacked. It wasn't until he focused his eyes did he see that those people looked oddly familiar.

Too familiar.

One dodged out of the way as the mercenary lunged, pointing his gun at them.

"Sl-" Peter paused, cursing himself mentally.

'No real names in the field, Parker,' he scolded.

"Deathstroke!" He yelled from his position, sliding down the wall a little bit, though still cloaked by shadow. He saw Slade pause and five sets of eyes stared at him. "Stand down, w- you," he corrected, "know them."

It was then that Slade stepped back a bit and realized that Peter was right. They did know them. Slade growled.

"What are you doing here, pretty bird?"

"I assume the same reason you're here, Slade," Dick replied in a huffy tone, dressed in comfortable clothes (as everyone else was), domino mask secured on his face. He then directed his gaze towards where Peter was hiding.

"Who's your friend?" Slade blinked.

"You mean-" he cut himself off and turned back to Peter. "They don't know?" Peter thought it was enough and he dropped from the ceiling, flipping into a crouch on the ground. He stood up and met Slade's expectant gaze, shaking his head.

Jason tilted his head, which donned a red helmet, eyes glowing. Peter could imagine Bruce having a similar expression of wary curiosity, same as his second adopted son. Both stayed silent, however, assessing this new and unknown person who was obviously working their once enemy. Little did they know, they knew this person better than they could ever imagine.

"Should we know them?" Tim's voice was coated in curiosity, a similar mask on his face as Dick's. Slade and Peter stared at each other for a bit before Slade answered.

"No." The mercenary abruptly turned around and walked around the corner, leaving Peter to stare at his back. After a pause, Peter followed, steps a bit hesitant as he passed the Wayne family. He could too feel their gazes on his back as he knew Slade could feel his.

"Mute," he whispered.

"Muted," Karen replied. "How can I help, Peter?"

"From now on, until I say so, use the voice changer. I can't have them knowing my identity just yet."

"Of course," she amiably agreed. Everything was quiet for the next few minutes. Peter could feel his heart rate spike, aware of the burning stares of Bruce and his family on his back as they moved throughout the sewage systems, Slade and Peter leading the pack.

After about another ten minutes or so of weaving through the tunnels, each corner they turned stinkier than the last (Peter's nose was about ready to commit suicide, he swears), they finally reached a smaller, narrower tunnel that lead to a larger, less compact hallway with an opening at the end of it. Peter's heart rate spiked again, hearing the sounds of the water from the sewers emptying into a large room.

"This is it," he said to himself more than anyone, changer-deep voice echoing in a whisper around the sewer. The other's with him could barely make it out over the sound of the sewage water running.

"What's "it"?" Jason's baritone matched his softness behind him. He tapped Slade's shoulder, seeing the mercenary turn his head towards him when Peter moved past him, as quiet as a mouse.

"The Joker and his men. They're down there." He turned his head back to catch the curious looks sent his way. He decided to answer the question in their eyes. "I can hear their heartbeats. There are about forty people in total."

"Is Harley there?" Bruce's voice penetrated the sound of the water, loud and clear even if he did his best to stay quiet. Peter waited a moment. He nodded.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure. There's a heartbeat that's faster than everyone else's. It's not exactly a confirmation though." Bruce grunted. Peter almost giggled. Even if he was a mob boss, he was still so much like how Batman was portrayed in the movies back home.

"Well I need better than that. I'm not sending in my team to save someone who may not even be there." Peter nodded.

That made sense.

He placed a hand to the wall of the tunnel and crawled to the top, upside down and crouched to the ceiling. That position gave him the vantage point of being able to see over the edge of the waterfall and into the room of the sewage system. There, he found people in clown masks, each holding a weapon, staring at one singular man with green hair, who was looming over a feminine figure slumped in a chair.

'Harley,' his mind supplied and the eyes underneath the mask widened in horror. He let go of the ceiling and flipped, landing on the ground in front of everyone else silently.

"It's them," he confirmed. "Harley's down there too."

"Do you happen to know Harley Quinn well, uh-" Dick waved his hand towards Peter, an askance for his preferred alias.

"Spiderman. And yes, you could say that I do." Slade snorted and Peter turned to him, the eyes in his suit manually narrowing. "Now let's go. I would hate to waste any time." However, before he could move forward, a large hand clasped his shoulder, halting his movement. It was tight and bruising, very unlike how any of them would handle him if they knew his identity. His head snapped towards them, a disgruntled expression on his face, obvious even through his mask. "What?" He hissed, his tone quite hard.

"We can't just go in, guns blazing," Tim said, a frown evident on his lips. "We need a strategy to take them as efficiently as possible without hurting any innocents." Peter hated to admit it, but he was right. The idea of Harley being even more injured than she already was made his blood boil. So he grit his teeth and swallowed his pride.

"Fine," he acquiesced, though very reluctantly, "what's the plan?"

Tim looked around and noticed the multiple entrances into the sewers, all from different tunnels. He turned his head to meet his brother's eyes, matching smirks lighting up their faces.

"So, Spiderman," his voice was full of suggestion that made Peter wary, "what exactly can you do?"

Loki and Stephen sat across from each other in front of the New York Sanctum's window, open space to concentrate with Tony sitting between them, creating a sort of half circle. The setting sun outside cast the shadow of the window, causing the logo of the Sanctum to fall upon Both eyes were closed and everything was quiet.

Except Tony, who fidgeted like there was no tomorrow. Loki opened his eyes and glared in irritation.

"For the love of Valhalla, Stark, it would do you well to sit still!" The Norse god growled. Tony scowled in return but did as the trickster commanded. He was impatient to get to Peter. A large and gentle hand laid itself upon his knee.

Stephen's eyes were sympathetic, a blue that seemed to calm his heart.

"We'll find him and we'll bring him home. But you need to calm down in the meanwhile. We're doing all we can." Tony sighed and nodded.

"Sorry. I'm just…" Tony trailed off.

"Worried?" The doctor's eyes crinkled with a fond smile. Tony smiled back.

"Yeah. Worried." The hand on his knee tightened and they leaned close together, leaning their foreheads against each other's, the genius relaxing at the contact.

"How I landed the most caring and loving husband in the world, I'll never know," murmured Stephen, blue eyes connecting with brown. Tony huffed a laugh.

"And how I got married to the most understanding and patient man in the world, I'll always wonder." Stephen's smile widened.

Unbeknownst them, Loki curled his lip and sneered in disgust. He loudly cleared his throat, interrupting the couple's intimate moment with a roll of his eyes.

"If you two are done with your canoodling," the word was said with an annoyed twitch of the nose, "I, for one, would like to get back to saving the son of Stark. Of course, if we have that much time to spare, however, please," a lazy wave of the hand, "continue your intimacies." Tony's eye twitched and Stephen had to refrain himself from frowning, but both men separated themselves to their previous positions. Loki nodded with satisfaction. "Alright. I believe we are ready to start the ritual."

Tony paused at that, a wary glint lighting his eyes.

"Ritual?"

"Yes, a ritual, Stark." Noticing the look, Loki rolled his eyes. "Not to worry, dear, it is not dangerous." Tony deflated at that. "Much," the trickster god shrugged, barely managing to hold in his snicker at the genius' stiffened shoulders.

"Anyway," Strange cut in, sending the god a pointed look, "we're ready then?"

"Indeed," Loki affirmed, straightening his posture and plastered a smirk on his face. "Shall we begin?"

"Remember, stick to the shadows." Bruce's voice on the comms were slightly staticy. It seemed there were signal blockers around the place, but fortunately, their tech was more advanced so the comms readily established a signal, though slightly iffy.

Karen was able to hack into their communicators, though it took a bit, and Peter was able to listen in and respond to the conversations going on. Slade took an extra set that Bruce had and they quickly split up, heading off in the sewers to find their own ways.

"Is everyone in position?" Tim's voice sounded next to Peter.

"Affirmative," Damian said, and the others echoed their confirmations. It was time.

"Alright, Spiderman," Tim's eyes swivelled over to Peter, "You're going to aim for all of Joker's followers and string them from the wall. When we give the signal that you're done, we're going to throw knockout gas on them. From there, we're going to all slip down to the ground, take down Joker and save Harley. Sound like a plan?" Peter only nodded. "Alright. On my signal."

It was a beat before Tim waved at Peter. From his angle, he webbed those closest to him, and pulled back, making sure that the web combination was able to snap over their mouths and mute them for a bit. He pulled them into the shadows and webbed them to the wall, unable to move or speak. Peter nodded to Tim, who whispered into the comms.

"Hood, Spiderman's headed your way." He started to crawl over the walls of the sewer, slightly rounded now that he feels it underneath his palms, towards Jason's position.

"Tell him to hurry it up, princess." Peter rolled his eyes under his mask. It was so something Jason would say.

"Calm it, Hood," Bruce's growl was deep and rough over the comms.

"Yes, daddy," Jason mocked and Peter could hear Dick, Tim, and Slade chuckling behind the infamous Batman's grunt.

As he arrived, he could see Jason leaning against the wall of the tunnel, his form impatient and taut. He swung himself inside, landing next to the leather clad man, and getting to work.

He repeated the process as he went along his group, visiting Dick, Damian, Bruce and Slade in their separate tunnels.

By the time he finished, all the goons that surrounded Joker and Harley were webbed up and silenced, no one but Harley noticing. Her eyes had widened slightly as soon as the first men disappeared but she kept up appearances, keeping her ex's attention on her, even if it hurt.

"Alright," Peter whispered, standing next to Slade, who leaned forward, one foot on a bar that connected to the floor, "move in."

"Uh," Dick's voice interrupted the slight static of the comms, "I mean, Bruce usually gives the signal, but like pop off, I guess."

"Whatever," he muttered, practically feeling Slade's amusement next to him. "Shut up, Slade," he hissed.

"I never said anything, sweetheart." Peter huffed and dropped himself down the wall, careful to avoid any water that fell out of it. He heard Slade clasp something onto the bar he was leaning his foot against earlier and slide down after him. In the distance he also heard the other follow suit, dodging any goons who were webbed to the wall.

After a minute or so, everyone was on the ground, silently moving towards the figure who was laughing maniacally in front of a severely injured Harley. Peter winced in his mask, his guilt flaring at the thought of Harley getting hurt and that he didn't do anything about it. Joker reared back, winding up his arm to hit Harley once more before Peter had enough.

"Stop right there, Joker," he growled as they all stepped into the light. The green haired menace paused and turned his head to make eye contact with him.

"Well, well, well," he purred, a sick smile on his face. "What do we have here?"

"A rescue mission." Peter's voice, even through the modulator, was deep and furious. The Joker cackled, the thought of the rescue apparently hilarious. Peter's body tensed just as Slade's hand clamped down on his shoulder.

"And exactly who are you? Do you know him, Harley?" Harley, through her restraints and gag, shook her head, wincing when it aggravated her head injuries. Peter's eyes darkened through his mask when he saw that flinch. "Why are you here then? You don't know her."

"Let's just say, it's in my best interest to help her out."

"Hmm." Joker's hum was accompanied by a smirk, showing off his yellowing teeth and metal tooth caps. It made Peter shiver, visible through his suit. The clown's smile widened when he spotted it. "Nervous?" A cackle. "You should be!"
Bruce stalked his way to the front, shielding Peter behind him, his own 6'2 frame dwarfing Peter's 5'6.

"And why is that?" His voice was hissed and low, obviously furious. A piercing chuckle sounded around the echoing walls of the sewers as Joker threw his head back, skinny form quaking with the force at which he was laughing.

"You'll have to wait and see, Batsy!" Another laugh and Peter had had enough. He surged forward, grasping angrily at the clown's pale throat. Despite him being about four inches taller than Peter, it didn't stop him from lifting him far above his head.

"He asked you a question," the vigilante growled, and while the Joker choked in his hold, he could see that his brown eyes held amusement. It made him want to hurt the man in his grip.

Before he could really do anything, however, a close yet still distant rumble caught his attention. He turned his head, trying to let his ears get a better frequency. The men behind him barely even reacted, though he could see that Slade tensed uncomfortably, probably in shock with

Peter showing violence that even he, himself, hadn't thought he possessed.

Suddenly, Peter let go of the Joker, the clown falling to the floor, gasping for breath, and moved towards the back of the group, the Bat Boys moving out of his way as he did so. The rumble appeared again and this time he could even feel it beneath his feet. Little pebbles on the ground shook, letting him know that what he was hearing wasn't just in his mind.

A minute passed before he knew that the others could hear it too. Joker finally stopped coughing before he let out another cackle. At this point, Peter was so tired of his behavior.

"What the fuck is that, Joker?!" He shouted as it got louder. Before the criminal could answer, however, a large bang sounded, causing Peter to jump, his Spidey Sense going haywire. The wall where the tunnels were located cracked as the bang rang again.

Something was trying to get through.

Everyone braced themselves as the wall began to crack even more, the lines travelling down and up the wall before it finally fell away, crumbling onto the ground with ease.

The crunch of bones and the squelch of muscle and meat tearing reached his ears as well, and Peter closed his eyes tightly, knowing that the Joker just sacrificed his men for no reason at all. The smell of blood wafted towards his nose as he looked up at the large sentinel, as tall as the ceiling, eyes glowing and, as far as he knew, acting without any person inside.

A clown's face was painted on the face of the robot, chunky black armor encasing it. Its arms were large, guns seemingly substituted as hands, fingers connected to the edges of the large and flat head of the guns. Its legs were the same, though Peter had the inkling that it was just large to support the sentinel's weight. It towered over everyone there. Peter and the others took their positions, crouching into fighting stances and getting ready for what was to come.

However, before anything else could really happen, the sentinel turned its head upwards, locking onto something before using its arms to punch upwards, breaking away the concrete that encased them and opening the sewer to the night air.

Above them, with lights that beamed down, was a small plane, someone with a clown mask hanging on the outside, legs brace inside the open hangar. The person waved to someone who was in the plane, likely the pilot and was handed a metal chain ladder with which he threw down into the open ceiling. It fell before the Joker, who looked up from his subservient position with a smug smirk. He grabbed onto the rungs, the metal creaking underneath his weight.

"So long, Batsy!" He saluted and then he was being pulled upwards and away, Bruce rushing forward and just missed grabbing onto the ladder. Peter stared up in horror. They had walked into a trap.

Before they could dwell on it, however, the ground shook again and he turned to see the sentinel's attention being put onto them, now that its master was safely away.

Hurriedly, he rushed towards Harley, who's blue eyes were wide with fear and ripped off her restraints, freeing her. She stood up quickly, though swaying on her feet a little and nodded her head in thanks. He nodded back and stepped closer, noticing her shrink back but didn't comment on it.

"Harley, I need you to find a way out and go get help. Call on Steph and tell to bring some back up. Leave through there." He pointed to a lone tunnel at ground level on the other side of the room. She glanced towards it before turning back to him, large blue eyes pleading.

"Will you be alright?" Her voice was soft but damn if he couldn't hear his best friend's voice through all the chaos.

"We'll be fine. Now hurry! I don't want you to get hurt!" She hesitated once more before dashing towards the tunnel and disappearing into the dark. He made sure she was gone before turning back and assessing the scene in front of him.

"Shit," he heard someone curse, likely Jason, and he couldn't help but nod in agreement.

'Shit, indeed.'

The sentinel let out a screech that was just a couple decibels below giving him permanent ear damage. It then reached out, its arm extending (likely some sort of mechanical thruster) which landed right where the group was, all of them jumping out of the way at the last second. The fist retracted, leaving a large hole behind, crushed concrete falling off its hand like crumbs.

"Distract it!" Tim's voice was clear through the mechanical whirrings of the robot. "I'll try to find a weak spot!" Jason's deep timber was also quite loud.

"Well, hurry up! We won't be able to fight it for long!" They all attacked, respective limbs by different people, all trying to find their own weak spots. Its arms flailed around, Damian clutching onto one of them, hitting a spot where armor met dark, thick wiring while Dick ducked as one came flying towards him.

Jason used a grappling hook to pull himself and Slade onto its chest plate, both trying to pull away the armor with their respective weapons but having little luck.

Peter, determined to help them, ran around the feet of the sentinel, narrowly avoiding the crater in the ground and shot webs at one hand, the white substance wrapping around the appendage. He then shot multiple strands, each thick cords, at the walls and connected them to the webs that covered the robot's arm. The cords persisted even as the sentinel pulled and yanked at it. He got to work with the other arm.

This was a bit more of a challenge. He could wrap the whole arm again since Damian had latched himself on it. Peter had no choice but to climb on there himself. He aimed and shot, then swung up, landing on the other side of the Damian, on the inside of its upper arm.

"I'm gonna use my webs so duck!" Damian, with a grunt and a glare, did as he was told and Peter did the same thing as the other arm, cloaking the limb with his homemade webs and chaining it to the walls, avoiding the large hole in the wall and connecting the webs to the more supporting palisade around it.

It was able to stop both arms from whirling around. Turning his attention quickly, Peter shot webs at both feet, rooting it in place. He celebrated in his head as he shouted towards Tim and Bruce, who were on the back of the Sentinel's neck,

"You guys almost do- Woah!" The robot, with brute strength yanked one of his arms, the one Damian and Peter weren't on, jerking itself with the movement. He then did the same with the other, Damian swaying dangerously with it.

Damian gritted his teeth and held on tighter, glaring enviously at Peter who held on without a problem.

"There has to be a way to turn this thing off!" Tim shouted back, obviously very irritated.

"We're trying our best!"

"Well try harder!" Slade sounded strained. Peter looked down to see him dangling precariously off the chest plate while Jason was struggling equally to stay on.

'God, this day just gets better and better,' he thinks sarcastically.

"Hold on Deathstroke!" Letting go of one of his hands, he dispensed more webs to help keep Slade and Jason on the torso. "Just a second, Da- Ah!"

The arm they were on waved, some of the webs keeping it in place breaking off and loosening the hold. Peter grimaced, avoiding looking at Damian's widened eyes (through his own domino mask) as he almost said his name.

'No names in the field, Parker! Gah!' The arm jerked violently, so much so that even Peter became dislodged, despite the stickiness of his powers.

Damian, however, fell off with a shout and Peter gasped before he shot a web past Robin's falling figure, creating a net that would catch him. Peter didn't wait to see if it caught him, already knowing it would. He instead focused on ripping apart the metal on the arm with his strength to faster find the important wiring.

It was harder than he thought and focused on his task, he didn't realize his Spidey Sense called to him until it was too late.

"Watch out!" Slade's tone was panicked but before he could notice, metal enclosed Peter, squeezing so tightly that Peter had to gasp for air, his ribs protesting at the pressure. The hand pinched him between the fingers, his back against the gun. Suddenly, his back felt very hot and his senses went haywire.

The gun was about to fire, he realized and thrashed around in the grip, desperately trying to escape. Even for his super strength though, the grasp was too tight and too strong and before he knew it, a white hot blast of pure energy hit against his back and shot him out of the sentinel's hand, slamming him against the opposite side of the sewer.

He hit the gray wall, his bones seeming to bend against the wall before he fell down to the ground with a groan. His ears whined with feedback and his vision was hazy. His body collapsed against the cool floor and everything was sore. Still, he couldn't leave his teammates.

'Where's Harley and back up when you need them?' He thinks dazedly as he slowly crawls towards the sentinel. He looked up, his vision clearing somewhat and noted that it had managed to throw off not only Dick and Damian, but Bruce, Slade, and Jason as well. They were all thrown in various directions, their bodies slumping pathetically to the ground before getting back up in an attempt to try again. That left Tim who was probably still at the back of the sentinel.

'But not for long,' he thinks as he watches the sentinel reach its arm back and grasp at Tim's lithe body as it had once done with him. Instead of blasting Tim with energy, however, the robot throws him against the wall, next to where he was before.

Peter, in a pitiful attempt to restrain it once more, shot another web that connected its wrist to the wall but the sentinel only yanked its arm away, destroying the cord. Glowing eyes turned its attention to Peter who stared up in terror.

'Oh shit,' he thinks as the sentinel reared up its arm, aiming for him, the flat head of the energy blaster lighting up with white heat. 'This is how I go out,' he thinks miserably as a high pitched whine sang, signaling the gun's ready. Peter closes his eyes, knowing that even his suit cannot save him from a blast to the front.

So he resigns himself to his fate, never seeing the bright orange and yellow sparks that appear in front of him in a circular motion. He never sees a portal open. He only sees black, preparing himself for the swift death to come.

But it never does. The blast sounds but it never reaches him. It, instead, is stopped. Peter blinks his eyes open in shock, not believing the scene in front of him.

"Hey, Underoos," a gold and maroon metal mask retracts to show Peter warm brown eyes that he couldn't ever forget, even if he wanted to. A smirk stretched across the billionaire's face, goatee on point as always, and both power blasters on each hand holding the white energy blast at bay. "You miss me?"