Peter was awoken by a faint mechanical humming that seemed to emanate from all around him, as if he had been sleeping in an overheating laptop, an impression which the oppressively hot atmosphere and circuitry-covered walls did little to dispel. The room was small and perfectly square on all sides, featureless except for the raised cube of floor in the center that he had been leaning on as he slept. Peter tried to stand up to get a better view of his surroundings, but realized to his dismay that he was shackled to the cube with a set of fittingly cubical manacles that wouldn’t budge no matter how hard he strained. His mind frantically flashed back to the last thing he remembered - a strange dream where he had been kidnapped by an unseen figure and inducted into an “interdimensional battle royale.” This suggested that he still had some kind of mental hangup about the whole Mysterio debacle, but didn’t bring him any closer to figuring out where he was now.

[...]

All of a sudden, the ceiling of the room flew open, and all three cubes levitated at once, flying upwards as Peter’s had for almost a full minute. What they finally emerged into was not another cube, as he had been expecting, but rather… well it was still a cube, just a very, very, large one. Its walls were composed of the smaller cubes that they had been stuck in earlier. Scattered around the room were other trios of bizarrely dressed humans and bizarre looking creatures, shackled to cubes of their own. They all seemed to be focused on the center of the room, where a raised cube was serving as a stage. Standing on the stage was a huge machine, at least twenty feet tall. It looked sort of like a high-tech blender, with dozens of mechanical arms and legs, many of which were tipped with weapons. In the tank itself was a huge floating head, suspended in a nutrient bath of spreadsheets and Microsoft Excel equations that kept the occupant alive. It was a totally normal looking head, a white man with brown hair who Peter wouldn’t have thought twice about if he passed by him in New York. Emblazoned on the tank was a name, but Peter could only make out the first three letters: “DAV.”

Noticing their arrival, the robot began speaking.

“Finally, the last team has arrived, and just as I was getting ready to lock the post…”

Oh no. Team. This day really couldn’t get any worse.

“...someone remind me to incinerate whichever morons took so long getting them set up. Alright, now to business. My name is Phane, some of you may already know me as the devilishly handsome mastermind who has arranged 12 of these multidimensional get-togethers already…”

At this several members of the crowd sighed. One man, who had a white robe and a ponytail, banged his head against the cube he was attached to in exasperation. Phane didn’t seem to notice.

- Season 13, Round 0, globsterzone