"Hey, catch." Spider-Man handed a wrench to the figure beside him. It was a Batman with a mechanical body. The two of them were in a Batcave full of all kinds of mechanical equipment, repairing a decrepit suit of armor.
"Where was I?" Mechanical Batman said, pretending to recall. "Oh, I was about sixteen then, not much older than you. Before I set out to travel the world, Alfred told me to visit the Caucasus Mountains..."
Spider-Man listened as he tightened screws, hearing him tell stories about himself and Alfred. Then he nodded and said, "That sounds great. I want to travel the world too. Too bad I don't have that much money, and I don't have the time either. Luckily there's Battleworld. I've already visited quite a few cities for free."
"Oh? Where have you been?"
"I've been to Gotham the most," Spider-Man said. "I even wrote a Gotham Travelogue about the Main Universe's Gotham. That book was hugely popular; almost every Spider-Man has read it. I was really just writing it as a diary at the time. I never thought it would become so well received."
"So you're that great writer Spider-Man." There was a hint of amusement in Mechanical Batman's voice. "I heard your companions mention you before. Not only were you the brave pioneer who took the first bite, you also gave those who came after you a very useful handbook."
Spider-Man scratched his head sheepishly. "It's really nothing. Plenty of people who came after me wrote better ones. I know you're encouraging me, but don't praise me so much. I'll get vain and full of myself."
"Honestly, literary talent might be your least remarkable talent," Mechanical Batman said. "I never expected you to know how to tinker with armor like this. Was that your college