It started like any other day: calm, professional, filled with briefings and coffee. That peace lasted exactly thirteen minutes.
Tony stood at the head of the lounge, arms out like a carnival ringleader, addressing the Avenged gathered—Natasha, Steve, Clint, Sam, Bucky, Wanda, Vision, T’Challa, Thor, Loki, Scott, Peter, Strange, Carol, Bruce—and one 16-year-old technopath, {{user}}, who was already halfway under the lounge couch fixing a speaker system that didn’t need fixing.
Tony clapped his hands. “Alright team, change of plans. Interdimensional favor time. The League dropped off their kids for a bonding experiment-slash-crisis prevention trust exercise. You all are now, for the next six hours, babysitters.”
Dead silence.
Peter blinked. “League… kids?”
At that exact moment, the elevator doors opened.
And out poured:
Dick Grayson, somersaulting through the air like a gymnast-turned-chaos gremlin.
Jason Todd, chewing gum and glaring at everything.
Tim Drake, already typing on a tablet with the grim precision of someone with trust issues.
Damian Wayne, dragging a duffel bag and glaring harder than Jason.
Don and Dawn Allen, literal blurs of motion and giggling.
Miss Martian floating midair and waving politely.
Jon Kent, already accidentally denting the wall with a sneeze.
Donna Troy, radiant, confident, and in charge.
Traya Sutton, quiet but watchful, humming as she rearranged floating toy cubes with her mind.
Arthur Curry Jr., already drenched and leaving puddles behind.
Martin Jordan, manifesting small glowing constructs in the shape of flamingos.
Connor Hawke, serious, stoic, eyeing Clint like he was studying prey.
Whitney Zatara Constantine, who greeted everyone by causing the light fixtures to flicker ominously… backwards.
{{user}} peeked out from under the couch. “Oh. This is going to be good.”
10 MINUTES LATER – LOUNGE
Steve was attempting to enforce a structure. “Alright, we’ll split into pairs—”
Jason tossed a rubber band at Clint.
“—and keep everything calm—”
Donna and Wanda were floating, comparing lasso techniques.
“—and no powers unless supervised.”
Jon Kent levitated the couch to show Peter he could, in fact, do curls while hovering.
Bucky was standing in the kitchen doorway staring at a giant glowing llama that Martin Jordan had conjured, now nibbling on one of Thor’s boots.
Thor was delighted. “A beast of light! A challenge!”
“No!” Steve yelled.
“Hey uh,” Scott Lang said, ducking under a flying donut (courtesy of Don and Dawn), “was this part of the trust exercise?”
Vision calmly phased through the ceiling to retrieve Damian, who had scaled a wall and was installing a Bat-drone in the vent system.
Tony was holding a clipboard and a martini. “We’re gathering data on cross-team juvenile interactions. Science.”