Chapter Text
<<Wade>>
Wade was having a great day. Fantastic, really. He had a new job lined up—go kill some asshole. Easy. Simple. His specialty.
Except there was a problem.
The damn job was in New York.
Now normally, Wade liked New York. Decent pizza, plenty of rooftops to jump off without anyone calling the cops, and a whole lot of noise to cover up gunfire. But New York was also home to two very important people: his friends. Or, well, the two guys who occasionally tolerated him.
The Devil and the Spider.
Team Red. His idea, trademark pending. Merch line in progress. Still needed to figure out if “World’s Okayest Vigilantes” would sell on t-shirts.
Spider-kid—sorry, Spider-Man, Wade had to remind himself, because the kid really didn’t like being called a kid—he was the heart of it. Always tossing out jokes mid-fight, always carrying way too much guilt for one spandex-wearing body. But the kid had guts. Swing first, cry about it later. Wade respected that. Reminded him of… well, himself. If he had responsibility. Or morals. Or literally any filter at all.
And then there was Daredevil. Mr. Serious. The Bat without the Bat. Blind guy who heard everything, smelled everything, probably even knew when Wade was about to make a bad joke before he said it. Matt was the brains. The type who’d sit on a rooftop for three hours just to think about how to punch someone better. Wade had brains too, obviously—he saw them all the time when things got messy—but Matt used his for strategy. Unless you poked him enough to crack that stone face. Wade lived for those moments.
And Wade? He liked to think he was the glue. Or maybe duct tape. Not the good kind, the kind you find at the bottom of a toolbox covered in dust, but it still holds everything together. He annoyed them into teamwork. Accidentally pulled them in the same direction. They might not admit it, but without him, Team Red wouldn’t be half as fun.
Which brought him back to the problem.
His target was right in the middle of their territory.
And neither of them were exactly thrilled about his line of work. “No killing,” they said. They even had rules. Actual rules. Wade hated rules. But he’d agreed to them—most of the time—because keeping his little red family happy mattered. Even if it complicated jobs like this.
Team Red Rules
(a.k.a. the “No, Wade, You Can’t Do That” Guide)
Territory Rule
Whoever’s city we’re in runs the show. Matt in Hell’s Kitchen. Peter in Queens. Wade… Wade isn’t trusted with a city. Probably for good reason.
No Kill Rule
Matt and Peter: “We don’t kill.”
Wade: “I kill, but I’ll keep it to the bad guys.”
Compromise: Wade only kills if there’s no other option. Or if he’s far enough away that Matt can’t yell at him.
No Collateral Damage
Don’t wreck the place, don’t endanger civilians. Peter enforces this like it’s gospel. Wade calls it “No Fun Allowed.” Translation: keep innocents alive. Property damage doesn’t matter as long as it isn’t catastrophic.
Backup Rule
If one of us calls, the others show up. Drop everything. (Unless Wade’s in Tijuana. Then Wade’s screwed.)
Mask Rule
Civilian lives are off-limits. Identities stay secret. Wade doesn’t see the point since he talks about himself constantly.
Gadget Sharing Rule
Don’t mess with Peter’s tech. Don’t mess with Matt’s billy clubs. Don’t let Wade touch anything tagged “prototype.”
Disagreement Rule
If there’s a fight over tactics, the majority vote decides. Wade thinks dance-offs would be more efficient, but no one ever listens.
Moral Compass Rule
When things get murky, the fallback question is: “What would Peter do?”
Wade usually flips it into: “What wouldn’t Peter do?” and goes from there.
Exit Strategy Rule
Always have a way out. Preferably one that Wade hasn’t already blown up.
Family Rule
Team before mission. Always.
That last one was the real kicker. Sure, Wade could take the job—but that came with a catch. Daredevil and Spider-Man would almost certainly try to stop him if they caught him in the act. If they didn’t see it… well, technically, it wasn’t breaking any rules. Not that rules really mattered all that much to him.
And honestly? It’d be kind of nice to catch up with the team. He’d been out of New York for two months, and the city was calling his name. Plus, the Russian winter had been a nightmare. He’d lost more body parts to frostbite than he cared to count—seriously, some of those toes might never forgive him.
But business first. Target first, then friends later. Matt and Petey could wait a little while.
Wade flexed his fingers around the hilts of his blades, running them across the edge to get that satisfying bite of sharpness. Job first, reunion later. Simple plan, simple life.
Wade stared at the profile of his next target for the umpteenth time.
Full Name: Elias Kearne
Aliases: The Broker, Mr. K
Age: Mid-50s
Affiliation: Independent contractor, arms and information dealer
Official Occupation: Biotech mogul, CEO of Orpheus Labs
Normally, Wade didn’t bother with high-profile targets. Too much attention, too many moving parts, and honestly, a headache he could do without. But the paycheck for this one was ridiculous. After that fiasco in Russia—two months of sneaking around in the snow, zero results, and zero payment—he could use the cash.
And Kearne wasn’t exactly innocent. Illegal human experimentation, shady biotech deals, and who knew what else that would make most people squirm. Wade didn’t really do “squirm,” thanks to being about 99% cancer cells. Skin-crawly stuff didn’t stick anymore. Lucky him.
Wade had already staked out a spot across the street from Orpheus Labs, parked in a chair he didn’t even remember owning. Whatever—comfortable was comfortable. The plan was simple: wait for Elias Kearne to leave, follow him home, kill him. Easy. Quick. Roll credits.
Then, maybe, he’d swing by and catch up with Spidey or Daredevil. Rub it in. Classic Wade move.
Except… the sun was already dipping, and Kearne was still holed up in his stupid science dungeon. What was he doing in there, binge-watching Grey’s Anatomy? Wade wasn’t pulling an all-nighter for this guy. Not when Daredevil had a sixth sense for showing up just in time to hand him a “murder is bad” lecture. Boring. Hypocritical. Ugh.
Wade lifted his binoculars.
…Wait. No. Nope. You’ve got to be shitting me.
What the actual fuck were Daredevil AND Spider-Man doing here? There they were, rooftop across the street, all suited up and having what looked like a superhero book club. Without him. Didn’t even send a text.
And why the hell were they parked so close to Orpheus Labs?
Oh, no. No, no, no.
They weren’t about to steal his target, were they?
“Oh, come on!” Wade groaned, tossing his stuff together and climbing out of the chair. “Of course. Perfect. Wade’s luck strikes again.” He slung his gear over his shoulder. Fine. If they were here, might as well crash the party.
Matt noticed him first. Dammit. Wade was slipping—normally he could sneak a lot closer before the radar ears picked him up.
“Double-D,” Wade greeted, bouncing his tone. “And Spidey! My two absolute favourites. By the way, how dare you? A team-up and no invite for yours truly?”
“Oh—hi, Deadpool,” Spider-Man replied. “Didn’t know you were back in New York.”
Daredevil exhaled sharply through his nose. “You don’t reply to your texts. We haven’t heard from you in a month. I’d have thought you were dead, but apparently we’re not that lucky.”
Wade wagged a finger at him. “Tsk, tsk. Not very Catholic of you.”
“I’m sure what Daredevil means,” Spider-Man cut in quickly, “is that we’re glad you’re alright. You disappearing like that wasn’t exactly comforting.”
“Ohhh, right, yeah. About that,” Wade said with a shrug. “Lost my phone during a fight in the middle of the Russian wilderness. Long story. Chased by angry men with bad accents, yada yada, real hardcore action flick stuff. Anyway. What are you two doing staked out at Orpheus Labs?”
“What are you doing here?” Daredevil countered. “And yes, Wade, I noticed you across the street.”
Wade muttered, “Creepy blind senses,” before saying louder, “Why can’t I just enjoy a good sunset?”
Even Spider-Man scoffed at that.
Wade lifted his hands in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I’ve got a job, alright?”
“Assassinate Kearne?” Daredevil’s tone went flat, no hesitation.
“Whaaat?!” Wade dragged the word out like a bad sitcom actor. “Why would you assume that? Maybe I’m here to, I don’t know, steal something? Could be a very delicate liberation of corporate secrets kind of evening.”
“You know the rules,” Daredevil said, low and edged.
“Technically,” Wade shot back, “this isn’t Hell’s Kitchen. It’s barely Queens. And—newsflash—the plan was not to bump into you two.” He jabbed a finger between them. “So what the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m tracking stolen Oscorp tech,” Spider-Man said. Daredevil stayed quiet, so Spidey added, “And he was following some… uh, ninjas?”
“The Hand,” Daredevil corrected.
“Oh, I love ninjas,” Wade said, dragging out the word. “Except you. You’re a terrible one. No smoke bombs, no dramatic flips, no theme music. Pathetic.”
Spider-Man gave him a look. “But why are you already taking a job? You just got to New York. Didn’t you just spend, like, two months on something?”
Wade groaned so loud it could’ve counted as performance art. “Russia. Don’t even get me started. Frozen hellhole. Absolute waste of time. And now I’m broke. But killing Kearne? That’s my golden ticket. I’m talking six months of doing nothing. Maybe a Vegas run. Blackjack, Elvis chapels, regrettable tattoos—the works.”
“And who hired you?” Daredevil asked.
“My client’s information is highly confidential,” Wade said, crossing his arms like that made him look professional instead of petulant.
“He doesn’t know,” Spider-Man stage-whispered.
“Yeah,” Daredevil agreed.
Wade pointed at them both. “I would flip you off right now, but it’d be wasted on Daredevil, and Spidey here still has a developing little teenage brain. Don’t want to scar him.”
“Fuck you, Wade,” Spider-Man snapped. “I’m sixteen.”
Wade chuckled. Aw, the kid was growing teeth. Two years ago, little Petey was all Mr. Wilson this, Mr. Murdock that. Sometimes Mr. Deadpool and Mr. Daredevil, sir. Why did Matt get a “sir” and Wade didn’t? Was it the tie? The voice? Unfair.
“Don’t swear,” Wade said, clutching his chest in mock offence, exaggerating the motion like he was on some bargain-bin soap opera.
Daredevil let out a sharp sigh through his nose, already annoyed. “Can we focus?”
“I am focused,” Wade shot back. “Focused on going in there and putting a bullet through Kearne’s skull. Guy’s probably already halfway down the street.”
“He’s not,” Daredevil cut in flatly. “He’s still inside. He never left. And you can’t kill him.”
Not yet, Wade thought. Out loud, he said, “Fine, fine. No killing. But I can help. Provide a little back-up?”
Spidey gave a shrug, casual as ever. “Works for me. I’ve got a ton of work to do tomorrow, so the faster we wrap this up, the better. You good with it, Daredevil?”
There was a pause before the man gave a single, clipped nod. “Very well. Let’s move.”
Breaking into Orpheus Labs was easy—like really easy. Wade would’ve said it was all thanks to his unmatched talent in breaking and entering. Fine, fine, technically Spider-Man did the whole “crack the codes, disable the alarms” routine, but Wade was the one who knew Spider-Man. Which meant none of this would be happening without him. So, logically, this was Wade’s victory.
“So what are we looking for?” Wade asked, peering around the dim hallway.
“Shh,” Daredevil muttered, his head tilting as if he were listening to something below. “Kearne is downstairs and—” He stopped abruptly, going still.
Spider-Man’s voice cut in, quick and tense. “What is it?”
“There are no other heartbeats,” Daredevil said quietly.
Wade tapped the side of his mask. “Okayyy… and?”
Daredevil’s jaw tightened. “There are at least two other breaths besides Kearne’s.”
Wade perked up immediately. “Ohhh. Undead ninjas. Called it!”
Spider-Man let out a sigh. “Great. So what’s the plan?”
“Who’s de facto leader?” Wade asked.
“Not you,” Daredevil snapped.
“Rude. Accurate, but rude.” Wade shrugged.
Spider-Man glanced between them. “So are we focusing on the undead ninjas or the Oscorp tech?”
“Ninjas first,” Wade said firmly. “Then the tech. No point in grabbing shiny toys if we’re getting ambushed every five seconds.”
“Deadpool’s right,” Daredevil growled, clearly hating the admission.
Spider-Man tilted his head. “Approach?”
“Operation Ninja Naptime,” Wade declared proudly.
“It’s called Silent Sweep,” Daredevil corrected.
“Whatever, branding isn’t allowed to be my job,” Wade shot back.
“On three?” Spider-Man asked, already crawling across the ceiling.
“One,” Wade said.
And all three of them moved on two.
Spider-Man swung a web and yanked the nearest Hand operative into the corner, smothering the grunt that tried to escape. Daredevil dropped behind the second, twisting his arm until there was a soft snap. Wade winced. Ouch.
Ah, crap. They messed up.
Wade raised his gun at Kearne, who stood across the lab, frozen for only a second before his face twisted into a snarl.
“Don’t you dare,” Daredevil growled, low and sharp.
From the far side of the room, Elias Kearne’s voice cut through. “You fools don’t understand what you’re messing with!” His hand came up, a gun glinting in his grip.
“Can I shoot him now? He’s kind of a dick,” Wade said.
Spider-Man webbed up the other Hand ninja before he could reach Daredevil. “Wait—don’t shoot!”
“Fine, fine, I won’t kill him,” Wade said, sight still steady on Kearne. “But he does have a gun. So… shoulder shot? Maybe hand?”
“He’s probably bluffing,” Spider-Man said quickly.
“I’ll shoot,” Kearne barked.
“He’s not bluffing,” Daredevil said flatly.
“Okay, that’s not the point. Don’t shoot because—” Spider-Man started, but Kearne cut him off by actually raising his gun.
Wade didn’t think twice. He pulled the trigger.
The shot hit Kearne in the arm, making him stagger backward into the console. Metal clanged as he collapsed against it.
“Dammit!” Spider-Man shouted.
“I didn’t kill him!” Wade said, holding up a hand like that somehow made it better. Then he noticed the problem. Kearne’s elbow had smashed a glowing control panel on his way down.
And just like that, the air split open. A portal tore into existence in the centre of the lab, light and energy swirling out in a deafening rush.
Wade blinked at it. “Oh, perfect. I shoot one guy in the arm and suddenly we’re guest-starring on Stargate.”
“I TOLD YOU NOT TO SHOOT!” Spider-Man snapped, already moving to the controls.
“Yeah, well, you could’ve been a little clearer!” Wade yelled, aiming his gun but mostly yelling for effect. “Like, I don’t know, ‘Don’t shoot, it might open a GIANT PORTAL.’ Little important detail, don’t you think?”
“Shut up,” Daredevil snapped, voice sharp enough to cut. “Focus. Spidey, talk to me.”
Spider-Man was already at the console, hands flying across glowing buttons. “Shit. Shit—uhh, this isn’t shutting down.”
“Why the hell does a geneticist even have a portal machine?” Wade demanded, gesturing at the vortex tearing open in the middle of the lab. The noise was building, a steady roar pulling at the air. “Seriously, what is this? Multiverse? Time travel? Evil lair side hustle?”
“What’s it for?” Daredevil growled, hauling Kearne up by the collar.
“You idiots,” Kearne hissed, blood seeping through his sleeve. His tone alone made Wade want to put another bullet in him.
“Spidey, can you fix it?” Wade asked, trying to steady his footing as the pull of the vortex dragged at him.
“I’m trying!” Spider-Man snapped. His voice cracked with the effort.
“You can’t shut it down!” Kearne spat, eyes wild. “Not once it’s active!”
“Then how?” Daredevil demanded, shaking him.
“Not going to,” Kearne said with a bloody smile.
“Can I kill him now?” Wade asked hopefully.
“We might need him to close it,” Daredevil shot back.
“Fair point. But I think it’s too late.” Wade’s boots scraped across the floor as the pull grew stronger. His stomach lurched as something wrapped tight around his waist—Daredevil’s billy club cable. Understatement of the century. Wade and Spidey had once tried to steal those things just to see if they could. Matt had been so pissed they never risked it again.
“You better hold on!” Wade shouted, staring at Daredevil. The man had one hand braced around the line, the other clamped on a steel pole.
“I’m trying!” Daredevil hissed through clenched teeth. “Spidey, report!”
“I don’t know how this tech works!” Spider-Man’s voice barely cut through the roar. “This—this isn’t even—ah, shit—” He fired a webline at Kearne, who was sliding toward the vortex like a ragdoll. “Kearne! How do I shut it off?!”
Kearne didn’t answer.
“You’re going to die too, you idiot!” Spider-Man shouted.
Kearne just laughed. It was jagged, ugly—like he wanted to go out with the machine.
“Fuck this,” Wade muttered. He raised his gun and pulled the trigger. The crack snapped through the chaos, and Kearne’s head whipped back.
“Are you serious?!” Daredevil hissed, turning toward him.
Wade grinned, lowering the smoking gun. “Relax. Guy was dead weight.”
“Uh…” Spider-Man’s eyes darted frantically around the console. “Okay, maybe—maybe there’s an off switch on the machine itself. Hopefully. Okay, I’m gonna let go and—”
“ARE YOU INSANE?” Wade barked. “You’ll get sucked in!”
“He’s not wrong!” Daredevil snapped.
“Okay, okay—new plan,” Spider-Man said quickly. “DD, can you hold onto Wade?”
“Yes,” Daredevil said, jaw tight.
“Alright, Deadpool. I’m sticking to you with my webbing and swinging in toward the portal. Got it?”
“Aye, aye, Captain,” Wade said, giving him a mock salute. Spider-Man shot a line to Wade, and Wade wrapped an arm around it. The portal’s pull was getting nastier by the second, the air tearing itself apart.
Spider-Man launched forward, web taut. “Okay, think balloon popping—except instead of air rushing out, everything rushes in. This isn’t just a dimensional rift, it’s a tear. If I don’t stabilize the oscillations, it could—”
The portal surged, spitting out a burst of energy that rocked the whole room.
Spider-Man’s voice cracked mid-sentence. “Oh. Oh no.”
And then he was gone—sucked straight into the fucking portal.
“SPIDEY!” Wade roared.
“Shit!” Daredevil spat.
“We gotta go after him,” Wade said without hesitation. “No one gets left behind.”
Daredevil cursed under his breath, let go of the support beam, and in the next instant, the portal swallowed them both.
<<Peter>>
Peter shot out a web at the last second, halting his fall before he could slam into the floor. His chest heaved with the sharp rush of adrenaline, but he had no time to catch his breath. His spider-sense flared—(Incoming!)—and before he could think, his arms moved on their own, firing webs that snagged both Deadpool and Daredevil mid-fall.
“Nice catch, Spidey!” Wade called, dangling upside down in the webbing. “But, uh… where are we?”
Peter adjusted his grip and glanced around. The space was wide, shadowy, and mostly empty. “Some kind of warehouse? A very empty warehouse.”
“Boooring,” Wade muttered.
Peter rolled his eyes but kept his focus, lowering the three of them carefully to the ground. The second his feet touched the concrete, the portal above gave a final spark and blinked out of existence. He glanced across the warehouse floor and froze. Kearne’s body lay sprawled on the ground, a dark pool spreading slowly from the wound in his head. Peter’s stomach tightened. Damn it, Wade.
“Hm.” He forced his voice steady, frowning up at the empty air where the portal had been. “That’s… not good.”
“Define ‘not good,’” Matt said, his tone calm but edged with sharpness.
Peter hesitated, shifting his weight. “Umm… well, it kind of depends.”
Wade threw his hands in the air. “Depends on what? Was that thing a teleportation device? Because I didn’t exactly pack for interdimensional travel.”
Ignoring him, Peter stepped forward, scanning the walls, windows, and the heavy shadows of the warehouse. Nothing about the place gave him comfort. “You two stay here. I’ll crawl up and check that window—see where we landed.”
“Be careful,” Matt said. His voice was steady, but Peter heard the warning underneath.
“Got it.”
Without another word, he leapt, fingers catching rough brick as his feet planted against the wall. He reached the high window, pulled himself up, and crouched on the ledge outside.
The air hit him first—thicker, heavier than anything back in New York. The city stretched out beneath him, older and darker than what he was used to. Gothic spires clawed at the sky, their stone gargoyles staring down like watchmen. No neon glow, no glass towers. Just stone, shadow, and a skyline that looked like it belonged in another century.
His spider-sense hummed low in the background, not warning him of immediate danger but buzzing with a steady unease. The city itself felt restless. Every rooftop looked worn, every alley seemed to hide something waiting. (Beware!)
“Okay,” Peter muttered under his breath. “Definitely not Queens. Not NY either. Definitely not New York.”
A siren wailed in the distance—lower, slower, and somehow more desperate than the ones he knew. Shaking it off, he slipped back inside the warehouse and dropped down beside Matt.
“Well?” Matt asked.
“We’re not in New York. No way. I did see a harbour, though… so maybe some kind of port city?”
Wade spread his arms like he was presenting a bad prize. “If Orpheus Labs went through all the trouble of building a fancy portal, why did it dump us in this dump instead of, I don’t know, another lab?”
“Good question,” Peter said. “My guess? The portal wasn’t finished. It was unstable, so it could’ve thrown us just about anywhere.”
Matt exhaled slowly. “Then we need to figure out where ‘anywhere’ is. And soon. Karen and Foggy are going to kill me if I miss court tomorrow.”
“You’re telling me. I’ve got a chemistry test.” Peter shook his head.
Wade crossed his arms. “Yeah, well, I’d just like to know if I’m still getting paid for that Kearne job.”
Peter glanced at the both of them. “So… what’s the plan? We can’t walk around in our suits.”
“I’d rather not run into any vigilantes in this city,” Matt said. “Or worse—any Avengers.”
“Ooh, I’d love to meet Cap!” Wade piped up immediately.
Peter sighed. “We need civvies. First thing.”
“I can go find us some clothes!” Wade announced. “No offence, DD, but I ain’t letting a blind guy pick my style.”
“Or I can do it,” Peter offered. “Most people probably think I’m just some kid running around in pyjamas anyway. Maybe there’s—”
He stopped, listening. Crates stacked in the corner. Dust thick in the air. The faint wail of sirens—
“Wait. Am I crazy, or are the sirens getting closer?” Peter asked.
“Nope,” Matt said evenly. “A couple police cars heading this way. Could be the portal made too much noise when it opened. Either way, we’ll have to move.”
“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Wade said, already jogging toward the exit. Matt followed, and Peter fell in line after them.
The night air hit hard once they stepped outside. Matt froze first, his posture shifting. Peter felt it a heartbeat later—his own senses prickling, that familiar crawl of warning.
“What is it?” Wade whispered.
“Someone’s coming,” Matt said. He tilted his head, listening. “Oh. They’re good.” Then he broke into a sprint without another word.
Peter went after him. He could’ve easily passed both of them, but he stayed close, keeping pace.
“Define good,” Wade demanded.
“They’re very quiet,” Matt said, leaping onto a rooftop. “Hard to track.”
Peter swung up beside him. Wade followed, slower and grumbling.
“I need to invest in a grappling hook,” Wade muttered.
Peter’s senses spiked again. “He’s closing in fast. What’s the plan?”
“Lose them,” Matt answered. “But I don’t know this city. And with three of us—”
“I can lead them away,” Peter cut in, scanning the skyline until his eyes locked on a tall tower in the distance. He pointed. “Meet back up there?”
Matt gave a sharp nod. “Half an hour. An hour at most.”
“Works for me,” Peter said.
“Aye aye, Captain,” Wade chimed in, throwing a mock salute.
Peter didn’t waste another second. He swung out across the street, the wind whipping against his mask as the night opened up beneath him. Below, two figures moved with almost supernatural speed. One tall, imposing, armoured in black. The other smaller, a blur of green, red, and yellow.
They spotted him instantly. Peter waved—and they gave chase.
At first, he held back, letting them close, just enough to make it look like he wasn’t running from anyone in particular. But his spider-sense buzzed insistently, urging him to anticipate their every move. He couldn’t see their eyes under those masks, but the way they moved—smooth, precise, too coordinated for normal people—told him these weren’t just street-level thugs.
He ducked down an alley, flipping off a fire escape just as the smaller one followed, landing silently behind him. Peter cursed under his breath. “Okay… yeah, you move like someone taught you really well, whoever you are.”
Web-line out, he swung low, cutting across a courtyard, letting the taller one overshoot before vaulting over a wall. The city’s shadows became his playground—pipes, vents, neon signs—anything to break their line of sight.
After a few blocks, he found an abandoned scaffolding frame near the edge of the rooftops. He paused, crouched, and let the shadows swallow him. The two pursuers slowed, scanning the streets below, seemingly unsure of his path. Peter’s spider-sense hummed low now, not warning of immediate danger but whispering that they were close. Close enough to see… or maybe too close to be seen.
He exhaled softly, letting the thrill settle. “Alright,” he muttered, brushing dust off his gloves. “Time to lose them.”
With a running leap and a flick of his web, he swung toward the opposite tower, twisting midair to vanish into the cityscape. The figures on the rooftops paused, then scanned again, hesitation in their movement—but Peter didn’t look back. Not yet.
Somewhere behind him, two shadows lingered on the skyline, searching—but for now, Peter was gone, lost among the city’s twisting spires and dark alleys.
Peter swung onto the roof of the agreed-upon building, landing beside Matt and Wade. “Sorry I took so long,” he said, brushing off the motion.
“All good,” Matt replied calmly. “We were followed too.”
Peter frowned. “But… by who?”
“Dunno,” Wade said with a shrug. “But oh boy… this city has a lot of vigilantes. And speaking of cities—check this out. I saw a sign. Gotham City. That’s where we are.”
Peter froze. “Gotham? I don’t recall any city called Gotham… at least not anywhere near New York. Oh no… it’s going to take forever to get back.”
“Ayyeee. Hold up a second, Spidey!” Wade called out, waving a hand. “There’s an even bigger issue!”
“What now?” Peter asked, his stomach sinking.
“Well, while we were being chased, I grabbed a newspaper. Always good to keep up with local news,” Wade said casually, humming a little tune.
Matt’s patience thinned. “Just spit it out already, Deadpool.”
Wade grinned, holding up the paper like it was the most important thing in the world. “Apparently… we’re several years in the past.”
Peter blinked. Then blinked again. “Several… years?”
“Yes,” Wade said, tapping the headline. “Past. Like, way past. Time travel, baby!”
Peter ran a hand through his hair, trying to process it. “You’ve got to be kidding me. So, not only are we stuck in some random city we’ve never heard of, but we’re also… in the past?”
“Bingo,” Wade said. “And don’t even get me started on what that means for—well, everything.”
Peter groaned, crouching on the edge of the roof. “This is going to be a long night.”
The night bled into morning, though not before Wade caused trouble.
“Wade!” Matt snapped.
“I didn’t rob anyone,” Wade hissed back. “They saw me, freaked out, and ran. Not my fault they dropped their phone!” He tossed the phone at Peter, who caught it without thinking.
“Dude! Don’t make me part of this!” Peter said, holding it like it might burn him.
“Relax. Just hack it or something so we can find the owner. Duh. And maybe we can use it to get some actual information.”
“Information on what?” Matt asked.
“Uh, I don’t know… maybe how we get back to our own time?” Wade said, like it should’ve been obvious.
Peter frowned, trying to piece it together. “I don’t exactly have resources on time travel… Maybe Reed would know. He could help. I was planning on attending his lecture on time travel next week. Which, I guess, is a few years from now for us, but current Reed should still have some knowledge—”
“Reed?” Matt cut in.
“Reed Richards. Mr. Fantastic,” Peter explained.
“When the hell did you meet him?” Wade demanded.
“I do stuff!” Peter snapped, defensive. “Now can you both shut up for a second so I can try getting into this phone?”
Wade mimed zipping his mouth and tossing away the key. Peter rolled his eyes behind the mask, then focused on the screen. Poor guy. Terrible cybersecurity, cracked display. Peter could probably fix the phone before returning it, but for now, easy work.
He opened the dialer and typed in the number.
“The number you have dialed does not exist,” the automated voice said.
“Okay.” Peter let out a low whistle. “Makes sense, I guess. We’re in the past.”
“What are our other options?” Matt asked.
“Well, I could always just, y’know, Google the current Fantastic Four hotline.” Peter shrugged. “Not a personal cell, but it could help.” He pulled up the browser, froze, then muttered, “Huh. This says ‘Goggle.’ Guess they’re using some off-brand search engine I’ve never heard of.”
“Sounds like a rip-off brand,” Wade said.
Peter ignored him and typed in Fantastic Four. Nothing. He tried again. Still nothing.
“Uh. The Fantastic Four does exist in this year, right? I mean, what, we’re only five years in the past? It’s 2019.”
“They definitely existed,” Matt said. “I remember Foggy going on and on about… Johnny Storm, I think? How hot he was when we first started our private practice. Although I still don’t know if he meant that literally or metaphorically, considering the guy can apparently turn into fire.”
“He’s certainly smokin’,” Wade added with a whistle.
“Gross.” Peter grimaced. He typed in Tony Stark. Nothing. Iron Man. Nothing. The Avengers. Nothing. Mutants. Nothing. His stomach dropped. “Fuuuu—”
“Language,” Matt warned.
Peter sucked in a sharp breath. “I think… I think we might be in another universe.”
“Fuck,” Matt muttered under his breath.
“Goddamn it,” Wade groaned, dragging the words out like it was the biggest inconvenience in the world. “Hasn’t the whole multiverse thing been done enough already? It’s stale. Boring. I wanted something original.”
“Oh no, no, no,” Peter said quickly, panic edging his voice. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Don’t you know anything about dimensional travel?” Wade asked, tilting his head like Peter had just failed a pop quiz.
“Only in a very basic, theoretical sense!” Peter shot back. “There’s been zero confirmed proof of dimensional travel or even the multiverse actually existing. I mean, sure, time travel is a theoretical possibility and somehow we’ve managed that, but—” He cut himself off, running a hand through his hair as he started pacing. “Unless the two universes run on different timelines? Or time dilation is involved? Ugh! This would be fascinating if we weren’t literally stuck in the middle of it!”
“Let’s all take a deep breath,” Matt said evenly. “We need to focus. One problem at a time. What’s the priority when you’re stranded somewhere unfamiliar?”
“Guns, money, and drugs,” Wade answered without hesitation.
Peter froze, staring at him. “What? No! It’s food, water, and shelter. Obviously.”
Wade shrugged like the difference didn’t matter.
Peter pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay. Basic survival. We figure out where we are, what resources are available, and whether the people here even… exist the way we expect them to.”
Matt nodded slightly, listening. “Good. So first step—information. We need to find out what kind of universe this is.”
“Right, yes,” Peter said quickly, his thoughts racing ahead of his words. “Could be similar to ours with minor changes—like historical divergence points—or it could be completely different. We don’t even know if the same people exist here. What if we run into alternate versions of ourselves? Or—” He stopped mid-sentence, groaning. “That’s so much worse. No, wait. Maybe not worse. Just… confusing.”
“I’d love to meet a second me,” Wade said cheerfully. “Double the charm, double the ass-kicking. Maybe we could get matching outfits. Oh! Or I could finally have a twin to blame crimes on.”
Peter’s head snapped toward him. “Do you ever not make things worse?”
“Rarely.” Wade winked.
“Peter,” Matt cut in, tone calm but firm. “Focus. You’re spiraling.”
Peter realised he was pacing again, his feet scuffing against the ground in a jittery rhythm. He forced himself to stop, arms folded tightly across his chest. His stomach twisted with nervous energy—he had no map, no plan, and no way to calculate the odds of survival here.
“Okay,” he muttered, more to himself than the others. “Food, water, shelter, information. One step at a time. We can figure this out. We have to.”
Wade clapped him on the back hard enough to nearly knock him forward. “That’s the spirit, kid. And hey—if this place has tacos, then this universe can’t be all bad.”
Peter groaned.
Step one was finding clothes and getting out of costume. Wade had “found” some, which probably meant stolen, but Peter was too tired to care. He pulled on a plain shirt, a pair of pants, and shoes that were a little too big. At least he wasn’t running around in spandex anymore.
He walked back to where Wade and Matt were—and froze.
Wade was wearing sandals. Sandals. And a Hawaiian shirt splashed with neon flowers. On top of that, a wig.
“Wade… why do you have a wig?” Peter asked.
“Obviously to distract people from my handsome face!” Wade grinned, which only made the hole in his cheek stretch wider.
Peter’s eyes shifted to Matt and he slapped a hand over his mouth.
“Wade!” he said, muffled through his fingers. “What did you do?”
Matt stood stiffly in a neon pink shirt—an actual neon pink shirt. Peter had never seen him wear anything that wasn’t a suit or the Daredevil getup. The shirt had some kind of cartoon character printed across the front, though Peter couldn’t even tell what it was supposed to be. And the glasses—Peter almost lost it at the glasses. Big, round, and tinted pink.
Matt’s jaw tightened. “What did you do, Wade?” he growled.
“Relax, Red. Trust me, you look like Clark Kent after a midlife crisis.”
“Who’s Clark Kent?” Peter asked.
“Dunno,” Wade said with a shrug. “Point is, we’ve got disguises. What’s next on the agenda?”
“Water, food, and shelter,” Matt said, clearly trying to ignore the clothes.
Peter hesitated before speaking up. “We could… try a homeless shelter? I mean, I don’t know which ones in Gotham are safe, but we’d need to be careful choosing. Some shelters can be… really bad. At least, that’s how it is back home.”
Matt’s head turned toward him. “Why do you know so much about homeless shelters?”
“Oh, uh…” Peter winced. He could lie, but Matt would hear it in his voice. “Not really important right now, yeah?”
Before Matt could push, Wade clapped his hands once. “Great, good talk, we’ll circle back to Peter’s mysterious tragic past later. For now, how about you look it up, Petey?”
Peter let out a quiet sigh and pulled out his phone. He started with general research on Gotham itself before diving into shelters.
A short while later, he cleared his throat. “Okay, so… Gotham. If New York is a mess, this place is worse. Way worse.”
Matt raised a brow. “Translation?”
“Population’s massive, unemployment’s higher, and organised crime basically runs the city. The Falcone family, the Maronis, Sionis, Cobblepot—yeah, there’s actually a guy who goes by Penguin. I checked twice.”
Wade perked up, chewing on something Peter prayed wasn’t stolen. “Penguin? Like an actual penguin? Does he waddle? Is he short? Please tell me he waddles.”
Peter shook his head. “He runs clubs and crime rings. Doesn’t say if he waddles. Anyway, shelters here are overloaded. A lot of people end up on the streets. The Wayne Foundation tries to help, though. Billionaire with a heart of gold, apparently.”
Matt made a sceptical sound. “Or just good publicity.”
Peter scrolled further. “Villains. Uh, yeah, Gotham’s got plenty. Joker, Riddler, Scarecrow, Poison Ivy, Bane—it’s basically an entire rogues gallery. But creepier. And way less subtle.”
“Oooh,” Wade clapped, eyes bright. “Field trip! Let’s go say hi to Ivy. Always wanted an evil plant girlfriend.”
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose beneath the oversized glasses Wade had forced on him earlier. “Peter.”
“Right. Heroes.” Peter swiped to another page. “There’s someone called Batman. Could be one guy, could be a whole team. Then there’s Batgirl, Nightwing, Robin. Gotham’s basically crawling with vigilantes.”
“Batman?” Wade grinned. “Dibs on calling him Daddy.”
Peter groaned. “Please don’t.”
Matt folded his arms. “So, in summary: organised crime, costumed lunatics, and masked vigilantes who might not take kindly to outsiders.”
Peter tucked his phone back into his pocket. “Yup. Welcome to Gotham.”
Matt had started pacing now, the way he always did when he was trying to keep control of the situation. “First priority is food and water. After that, we’ll check out a shelter, see if they have room for us—”
“Oh sure,” Wade cut in, sitting cross-legged on a crate and running a cloth over one of his katanas. “Maybe they’ll take pity on the blind guy and the teenager. You’ll be the poster children for charity.”
Matt didn’t even flinch at the jab. “Then we circle back to that warehouse we were dumped in. Maybe we’ll find a trail, something that explains how we got pulled here. And maybe a way back. Which, for the record, might’ve been easier if you hadn’t killed Kearne—”
“Hold on,” Wade interrupted, pointing the katana at him like he was delivering a speech. “I didn’t expect us to get sucked into a damn portal. And I killed Kearne because he was useless, not because I wanted to spice up my day.”
Matt stopped pacing, his jaw tight. “Guess what, Wade?” His voice was sharp enough to cut. “We’re stuck now.”
Peter quickly stepped in between them before this turned into something worse. “Hey, enough. Let’s not start tearing each other apart. Wade, I’m not okay with you killing Kearne. We had rules. You broke them. That’s not cool.”
Wade leaned back with an exaggerated sigh. “I can break the rules if the situation calls for it—”
“Except it didn’t,” Matt snapped. “You did it because you felt like it.”
Wade tossed up his hands like the victim in all this. “Alright, alright. I’m sorry, geez. I’ll behave.” He paused, then grinned. “Okay, I’ll try to behave.”
Better than nothing Peter supposed.
<<Barbra, a few hours earlier>>
Barbara adjusted her headset, eyes darting between the overlapping camera feeds on her monitors. Her fingers moved quickly across the keyboard, switching angles, enlarging windows, chasing the ghost of movement before the signal blinked out.
“Oracle to B,” she said, tone calm but clipped. “I’ve lost visual.”
“Batman here,” came the gravelled reply. “He slipped us, too. Some kind of metahuman—used webbing to escape. I’m bringing a sample back to the lab.”
Barbara’s brow furrowed. She rewound the footage, freezing on the faint blur of motion before the feed cut. “Webbing,” she repeated under her breath, scepticism lacing the word.
“Oh, god,” Nightwing’s voice broke through, equal parts frustration and disbelief. “Please don’t tell me Gotham’s trading Man-Bats for Man-Spiders. I came home for a holiday, not another freakshow.”
“Holidays don’t exist here,” Red Robin muttered dryly. “And just so you know, we lost the other two targets too. Whoever they are, they’re good.”
Barbara switched to another feed, running quick diagnostics. The readings spiked briefly—then vanished. “There was a large energy surge just before we lost them,” she reported. “Could’ve been tech, could’ve been something else. Either way, it’s gone. But their suits stood out enough—I’ll flag the patterns and track them if they pop up again.”
“Do we have an ID on the corpse yet?” Robin’s voice came through the comms.
Barbara paused, eyes flicking toward one of the open windows on her monitor. The frozen image of the alley filled the screen—dim, rain-slick pavement, the body half-lost to shadow. The harsh glare of crime scene lights caught only fragments of detail: a hand, pale against the wet concrete, the faint glint of something metallic near the victim’s boot.
“Not yet,” she replied, fingers still moving across the keyboard. The system ran another pass through the GCPD database, but the match percentage stayed low. “Do you think one of the three killed him, B?”
There was silence on the line. Then a low, unmistakable grunt.
“Pretty sure that’s a grunt of ‘maybe,’ Oracle,” Nightwing said dryly.
“Thanks, Nightwing,” Barbara answered, allowing herself the faintest hint of a smile. “But I know B’s grunts. I’ll cross-check with GCPD and see if any cameras closer to the East End caught a better angle. The webbing residue might give us something, but it doesn’t match anything I’ve seen before.”
“Copy that,” Batman’s voice replied, steady and controlled. Barbara could tell from his tone that he was already ten steps ahead, piecing together theories as he spoke.
“Webbing, glowing energy spikes, mystery corpses…” Nightwing muttered. “Real festive welcome home.”
“Focus,” Batman snapped.
“Still better than Blüdhaven,” Nightwing added under his breath before the soft click signalled his comm line cutting out.
“It is concerning,” Robin said after a moment. His tone was calm, though it carried an edge of quiet irritation. “Although I would like to duel the one with the swords. If we had gone after the other two instead, we would have succeeded.”
“Watch it, brat,” Red Hood shot back. “You lost your target too.”
“Enough,” Batman cut in, sharp enough to end the exchange. “Everyone meet in the Batcave. Immediately.”
“On my way,” Red Robin said.
“Same,” Nightwing chimed.
“Gonna pass on that,” Hood replied. “But I’ll keep eyes on our little mystery trio. Over and out.”
Barbara leaned back in her chair and set her headset aside. She picked up her coffee and took a slow sip. Another long night.