It started like any other normal swing across Manhattan.
Peter Parker was in costume, mask on, thoughts meandering somewhere between dinner plans with MJ and whether or not his favorite bodega had restocked those cinnamon bagels he liked.
His webbing sang as it caught on the edge of a building, propelling him forward into the crisp afternoon breeze. Sunlight gleamed off windows.
Car horns blared below, a symphony of frustrated drivers and bustling energy. Peaceful, by New York standards.
Then a concussive shockwave rattled the air.
It was sudden, like someone had dropped a wrecking ball onto a rooftop.
Peter immediately stopped mid-swing, clinging to the side of a nearby office tower.
His head turned, senses prickling with that all-too-familiar tingle.
Something was happening. Something loud.
With a practiced flip, Peter landed silently on the edge of a rooftop and crouched, peering across the skyline toward the source.
Just one block over, he spotted them.
Two figures. One crouched in a loose martial stance, lean and centered, fists glowing faintly with golden energy that shimmered like flame in the daylight.
His green and gold outfit clung to him like a second skin, and Peter recognized him instantly. Danny Rand. The Iron Fist.
The other fighter was an unknown.
He looked young, maybe a teenager or barely older.
Muscular, dressed in a rumpled school uniform with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, a crimson pompadour standing proud against the breeze.
In one hand, he gripped a thick, dented metal bat like it was an extension of his own body.
He wasn't glowing, didn't fly, no energy trails or effects.
But the moment he moved, Peter could feel the danger in him.
The kid grinned wide, wiped blood from his lip, and said something Peter couldn't quite hear.
Then he charged.
Peter flinched instinctively as the rooftop across from him exploded into motion.
Metal Bat, as Peter quickly decided to call him, dashed forward with terrifying speed for someone holding a blunt weapon.
The bat swung down with a grunt of exertion.
Iron Fist met him head-on, shifting weight smoothly, sidestepping the blow, and striking with an open palm to the chest.
The impact sounded like thunder.
Metal Bat skidded back, boots carving a trail in the concrete. He coughed once, but the grin never left his face. In fact, it got wider.
"You're not bad," Peter heard him say. "Been a while since someone made me take a step back."
Iron Fist didn't reply. He simply adjusted his stance, glowing chi pulsing through his limbs like a heartbeat.
Peter stayed crouched, frozen between the urge to step in and the sheer curiosity of watching the scene unfold.
Whoever this guy was, he wasn't some random punk.
The force of that swing earlier? That wasn't normal. And Iron Fist wasn't holding back.
Just as he considered intervening, a sharp electronic whir cut through the noise, followed by the unmistakable hiss of hydraulics.
Peter looked up and saw the familiar silhouette of SP//dr landing across the rooftop, graceful for something so massive.
The cockpit popped open, and Peni Parker emerged, her hair tied up, goggles perched on her head, chewing gum like she was watching a Saturday morning cartoon.
"Ohhh, this looks good," she said as she climbed up onto the head of her mech. "Who's the guy with the bat?"
Peter gestured with a tilt of his head. "Not sure. Iron Fist is the other guy. They're going at it like it's a tournament final."
"I love it already," Peni grinned. "I'm rooting for the guy with the bat. He's got that anime protagonist energy."
Peter raised a brow under his mask. "You pick favorites way too fast."
Below them, the fight escalated again.
Iron Fist moved first this time, his motions sharp and precise.
He dodged a reckless swing from the bat, ducked under the follow-up, and struck with a flurry of rapid blows, one to the shoulder, one to the ribs, and a spinning kick to the jaw.
Metal Bat was sent flying again, this time smashing into an air conditioner unit with a loud clang. Debris flew.
Dust clouded the rooftop.
Peter expected him to stay down for a moment.
Maybe cough. Maybe curse.
Instead, the teenager rose, brushed the blood from his forehead, and laughed.
"Man... you're really starting to piss me off," he said, voice low and cracking with something deeper. "That's good."
There was a shift in the air.
Peter could feel it.
A tension building around the kid. His grip on the bat tightened.
The veins in his arms bulged slightly.
His feet sank into the ground just from the pressure of his stance.
Iron Fist narrowed his eyes. "He's getting stronger."
Peter leaned forward, puzzled. "Wait. What?"
Peni grinned. "Ooohhh. A 'the more he gets hit, the stronger he gets' guy. Classic shōnen trope. I love those."
Then, without warning, a loud voice broke through the tension.
"Did someone say trope?!"
Both Peter and Peni whipped their heads around to find none other than Deadpool sitting in a foldable beach chair on a neighboring rooftop, eating popcorn straight out of a top hat.
He was wearing a "Team Bat" t-shirt and waving a tiny flag that just read "VIOLENCE" in bold letters.
"How long have you been there?" Peter asked, already regretting it.
"Since your inner monologue started," Deadpool said brightly. "Had to skip the intro recap, though. I've got brunch with Cable later."
"Please don't jump in" Peter groaned.
"Relax, Spider-Man. This is a spectator sport. I'm just here to enjoy the carnage like God intended."
As if on cue, Metal Bat launched himself forward again, bat raised high.
Iron Fist met him, golden energy flaring to meet raw muscle and resolve.
The sound of the next clash shook the rooftops for blocks.
The impact of the clash sent a visible shockwave rippling through the rooftop, rattling loose gravel and triggering car alarms several stories below.
Metal Bat's swing had the force of a small wrecking ball, and Iron Fist's chi-enhanced block was barely enough to redirect the blow.
The shock transferred through his arms, down his spine, and into the concrete beneath his feet, which cracked under the strain.
Danny exhaled slowly.
The kid wasn't just swinging harder, he was getting stronger. His raw power was now matching, maybe even surpassing, some of the harder hitters he'd faced in K'un-Lun.
That should have worried him more than it did.
"Iron guy," Metal Bat said between deep breaths, pushing up from the crouch his last attack forced him into, "I'm actually kinda enjoying this."
He rotated his shoulder with a pop, blood still dripping from a small gash on his cheek, and gave the bat a quick spin in his hand. "Not bad at all. You've got that calm warrior thing going. I like it."
Danny didn't respond with words.
Instead, he lunged again, fists flaring with brilliant golden light. His strikes came fast, blindingly so.
Palm, jab, elbow, spinning kick.
But Metal Bat was keeping up now, parrying with the flat of his weapon, taking hits and returning them with bone-crunching swings that carved arcs of destruction with every pass.
Peni, watching from the top of SP//dr, was practically vibrating. "Oh man! He tanked that chi blast like it was a stiff breeze! This is amazing!"
Peter remained perched at the edge of the rooftop, arms crossed, trying to look casual even though he was just as enthralled. "I'm still trying to figure out how he's not dead. That last punch should've liquefied a lung."
"You guys underestimate the power of delinquent anime physics," Deadpool said sagely, still eating popcorn.
"Give the guy a bat, a sister, and a righteous sense of responsibility, and suddenly physics just stops mattering."
Below, Metal Bat took a hit square to the ribs.
It knocked the wind out of him, for sure, he stumbled, grimaced, bent at the waist, but instead of falling, he grunted and stood straighter.
And stronger.
His knuckles whitened around the bat's grip.
Danny, narrowing his eyes, shifted back a step. "How are you doing this?"
"No idea," Metal Bat answered honestly, wiping blood off his lip with the back of his hand.
"It's just... how it is with me. The more I get hit, the more I get pissed. The more I get pissed, the harder I hit back."
Then, with a roar, he shot forward again, this time faster than before.
The bat blurred in the air, and Danny barely had time to block.
Even still, the blow sent him skidding across the rooftop, tearing through a vent and nearly toppling a water tower behind him.
"Okay," Peter muttered. "That's new."
"Now that's a proper fight," Deadpool declared. "This is the kind of stuff I'd pay pay-per-view money for."
"...Do you pay for anything?" Peni asked.
"Only in existential consequences," he replied cheerfully.
Metal Bat stood in the center of the rooftop now, chest heaving, bruises starting to form all over his face and arms, but he looked energized.
The blood on his knuckles almost glowed under the afternoon sun.
His stance was loose but sharp, like a boxer in round nine who just found his second wind.
Iron Fist slowly pulled himself free from the debris, dusted off, and cracked his neck. "Alright," he said, raising his fists again. "One more round."
The two warriors locked eyes across the distance.
No words. No quips.
Just a mutual understanding: they were going to push each other until one of them dropped.
The street below had started to gather a few spectators too, regular people drawn by the thunderous noise above.
Cell phones pointed skyward. Sirens echoed faintly in the distance, growing closer.
But up here, on these rooftops, time had narrowed down to two fighters, four observers, and the kind of tension that only came from evenly matched combat.
Then they clashed again, and this time, the bat hit first.
The steel connected with Iron Fist's shoulder in a wide, brutal arc.
It knocked him back, forced him to slide, but Danny didn't fall.
He planted his foot, spun with the momentum, and brought a glowing strike across Metal Bat's jaw.
Neither man gave ground.
The exchange turned feral, no more precise techniques or trained combinations.
Just raw grit, endurance, and two completely different kinds of strength colliding.
Peter watched with his breath held.
Peni had stopped talking altogether.
Even Deadpool had gone still, watching with narrowed eyes and a soft, appreciative "Daaaaamn."
They all understood the same thing at the same moment.
This wasn't just a fight.
It was a clash of philosophies. Spirit versus fury.
Tranquility versus rage.
A battle that didn't need world-ending stakes or epic context. It was just two people, one from another universe, the other from New York, pushing themselves past their limits.
And neither of them was backing down.
...
The rooftop cracked again as Metal Bat's latest swing sent Iron Fist skidding back another meter, the sheer force of it carving a groove in the concrete.
The bat-wielding delinquent was clearly on a roll now, bruised, bloodied, and grinning like a madman.
"You're real sturdy for a guy with a glowstick fist," Metal Bat said, breathing heavy but energized.
Iron Fist clenched his jaw, chi still pulsing in his palms. "And you get stronger every time I hit you. You're not normal."
"I get that a lot."
Then, just as they were about to clash again, a gust of wind whipped across the rooftop, unnatural, spiraling inward like a focused tornado.
Both fighters paused as a distinct green glow formed above them.
"You've gotta be kidding me," Peter muttered from the sidelines. "Here we go."
With a sudden crack of telekinetic force, the air split open and Tatsumaki, the Tornado of Terror, descended like an angry meteor.
Her arms were crossed, expression sharp as a razor, her small frame floating just above the rooftop.
"Oi," she snapped, glaring straight at Metal Bat. "I figured I'd sense something stupid going on. Should've known it was you."
Metal Bat blinked, lowering his bat halfway. "...Tatsumaki?"
She hovered down, boots just barely touching the ground, her emerald eyes practically blazing.
"What the hell are you doing here? How did you end up in this weird place? Did you fall into a hole or something?"
"Hey, calm down, Tornado," Metal Bat replied, clearly not rattled.
"I didn't ask to be here, alright? One second I'm smashing up some monster back home, next thing I know, I'm in Jersey. Thought maybe this was just a weird part of City Z."
"You idiot. You think New York is part of City Z?" she scoffed, hands on her hips now.
"Ugh. This is what I get for trying to track energy anomalies. You're like a walking black hole of dumb luck."
Metal Bat scratched the back of his head. "Yeah, well... been weird for me too. You seen Fubuki?"
That stopped her in her tracks for just a moment.
Her brows furrowed slightly. "No. Not yet. But I've got people checking. And if you're here, there might be others. Ugh, this place is crawling with capes."
She turned her attention to Iron Fist, eyeing him up and down like he was an exhibit in a museum.
"And who's this? Another one of your dumb sparring partners? Or just a bystander unlucky enough to get punched into orbit?"
"He's not bad," Metal Bat admitted, nodding respectfully toward Danny. "Strong. Focused. I like that."
Danny gave a polite bow, still catching his breath. "Name's Iron Fist. We were... testing limits."
Tatsumaki rolled her eyes. "Great. Testosterone Olympics."
From the rooftop edge, Deadpool leaned in with a big grin. "I liked it. Can we do a round two later with slow motion and dramatic lighting?"
"No, fuck off" Tatsumaki snapped, flicking a hand.
Deadpool was immediately swept off the roof in a swirl of telekinetic force, yelling something about "disrespecting the artistry."
She turned back to Metal Bat. "We're done here. Come on. I've got questions, and you're coming with me."
"I was kinda in the middle of something."
"Oh, I'm so sorry. Did I interrupt your little rooftop tantrum?" she replied, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too bad. Let's go. Demon Cyborg's waiting"
Metal Bat sighed, slinging his bat across his shoulders. "Alright, alright. You don't gotta throw me."
Tatsumaki gave him a dry look. "Not yet."
As the two lifted off, her floating, him reluctantly being levitated by her power, Peter finally spoke up.
"...So, uh. That's normal for her?"
Iron Fist nodded. "From the first impression.... Yes."
Peni let out a low whistle. "Okay, but like... can I get her autograph?"
"Don't ask her for that" Peter and Danny said at the same time.