The thing about accidentally causing an international incident, Cartoon Cat reflected as he dodged a repulsor blast from Iron Man while simultaneously deflecting Captain America's shield with a comically oversized flyswatter, was that it usually started with something incredibly stupid.
In this case, it had started with a toaster.
Specifically, a toaster that Cartoon Cat had "borrowed" from Avengers Tower three weeks ago during one of his unauthorized visits. He'd been curious about whether cartoon toast tasted different from regular toast (it did—cartoon toast was somehow breadier, butterier, and defied the laws of thermal dynamics by staying perfectly warm forever), and Tony Stark's kitchen had a really nice toaster.
So he'd taken it.
Through hammerspace.
What he hadn't known—because why would he know this, he was a cartoon character, not a technology expert—was that the toaster was actually a prototype device that Tony had been using to test a new arc reactor miniaturization technique. The toaster was the housing unit. Inside was approximately forty million dollars worth of cutting-edge technology that could revolutionize clean energy.
And Cartoon Cat had been using it to make toast.
For three weeks.
The Avengers had finally tracked it down yesterday using some kind of quantum signature tracer (Tony's words, Cartoon Cat hadn't really been paying attention during the explanation), which had led them to his abandoned subway station home.
Where they'd found him sitting on his cartoon couch, wearing his stolen Nova Corps helmet, eating perfectly warm cartoon toast, surrounded by his collection of random objects pulled from hammerspace and looking extremely guilty.
The conversation had gone approximately like this:
Tony, in full Iron Man armor, repulsors charged: "Is that my forty-million-dollar prototype?!"
Cartoon Cat, pulling out a sign: "IN MY DEFENSE, IT MAKES REALLY GOOD TOAST."
Captain America, shield raised: "You stole from us. That's a violation of the agreement we had about you operating in New York."
Another sign: "WE HAD AN AGREEMENT? I DON'T REMEMBER SIGNING ANYTHING."
Black Widow, with that look that suggested she was calculating exactly how to take him down: "The implicit agreement where we don't hunt you down as a threat."
"OH. THAT AGREEMENT. IN MY DEFENSE, I THOUGHT THE TOASTER WAS JUST A TOASTER."
Tony: "IT HAS AN ARC REACTOR IN IT. IT GLOWS BLUE. HOW DID YOU THINK IT WAS JUST A TOASTER?!"
"I THOUGHT YOU JUST REALLY LIKED FANCY TOASTERS?"
And then things had escalated.
Because Hawkeye—who apparently had been having a bad day already and was not in the mood for cartoon nonsense—had fired an arrow at Cartoon Cat.
Not a lethal arrow. A stun arrow. Meant to incapacitate.
But Cartoon Cat's instincts had kicked in. His body had moved on its own, dodging with anime speed, and the arrow had hit his collection shelf.
The shelf with his Nova Corps helmet.
The helmet had fallen.
And cracked.
His prize. His trophy from his space adventure. The shiny thing he'd stolen fair and square through shenanigans and distraction.
Cracked.
Cartoon Cat had looked at the cracked helmet.
Then at Hawkeye.
Then pulled out a sign that simply read: "OH NO YOU DIDN'T."
And the fight had begun.
That was ten minutes ago.
Now they were in Central Park—the fight had moved locations after Cartoon Cat had shadow-walked away from the subway station and the Avengers had pursued—and it was getting intense.
Iron Man was in the air, firing repulsor blasts that Cartoon Cat dodged by literally running up the beams of energy like they were solid (because cartoon logic said if he needed them to be solid, they were solid).
Captain America was throwing his shield in that perfect calculated trajectory, but Cartoon Cat kept deflecting it with random objects pulled from hammerspace—a tennis racket, a frying pan, once with just his finger which made a ding sound that echoed across the park.
Black Widow was trying to get close for hand-to-hand combat, but every time she got near, Cartoon Cat would pull out something that forced her to retreat—a cartoon snake that was somehow more frightening than a real snake, a boxing glove on a spring, once just a sign that read "BOO" which startled her enough to break her approach.
Hawkeye was firing arrows from a distance, but Cartoon Cat was catching them. Actually catching them. Plucking them out of the air and putting them in a vase he'd pulled from hammerspace, arranging them like flowers.
Thor had shown up three minutes ago—called in as backup—and was trying to hit Cartoon Cat with lightning, but the electricity was just making Cartoon Cat's fur stand up in a cartoon fashion, creating that classic "electrocuted" look before he shook it off like a dog shaking off water.
"ENOUGH!" Thor bellowed, his voice carrying the authority of a god. "Cease this foolishness, creature! Return the stolen property and face justice!"
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "IT'S A TOASTER. YOU'RE THREATENING ME OVER A TOASTER."
"IT'S A FORTY-MILLION-DOLLAR PROTOTYPE!" Tony shouted from the air.
"SHOULD'VE LABELED IT BETTER!"
Captain America tried a different approach, lowering his shield slightly. "Look, we can resolve this peacefully. Return the device, apologize, and we'll overlook the theft. Nobody has to get hurt."
Cartoon Cat considered this. Pulled out a sign: "WHAT ABOUT MY HELMET? WHO'S PAYING FOR MY HELMET?"
"You stole that helmet from the Nova Corps," Black Widow pointed out.
"SO? IT WAS MY STOLEN HELMET. I HAD A BOND WITH IT."
"You've had it for less than a week!"
"IT WAS A VERY MEANINGFUL WEEK."
Hawkeye notched another arrow. "Are we seriously negotiating with a cartoon cat over a stolen space helmet?"
"I can't believe this is my life," Tony muttered.
And then the Hulk arrived.
Bruce Banner had apparently been at the Avengers facility when the call came in about the toaster thief, and he'd Hulked out in transit. Now the massive green figure was leaping across Central Park, each bound covering hundreds of feet, landing with impacts that shook the ground.
"HULK SMASH CARTOON CAT!" the green giant roared.
Cartoon Cat's eyes widened—somehow getting even larger than their already oversized proportions, his pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
He pulled out a sign: "OH COME ON. THIS IS OVERKILL."
"YOU STOLE STARK'S TOASTER!" Hulk bellowed, landing with a final earth-shaking impact about fifty feet away. "HULK HATE THIEVES!"
"I'M BORROWING! THERE'S A DIFFERENCE!"
Hulk didn't care about the difference. He charged, his massive form accelerating with frightening speed, fist drawn back for a punch that would probably level a city block.
Cartoon Cat's cartoon survival instincts kicked into overdrive.
Time seemed to slow.
Not metaphorically. Actually slow. Everything took on that distinctive slow-motion quality, sounds deepening in pitch, movements becoming languid.
Cartoon Cat could see the individual fibers in Hulk's fist. Could track the trajectory of the punch. Could feel the displaced air as the attack approached.
And something in his cartoon brain went: dodge.
But not normal dodging.
Ultra Instinct.
The technique from Dragon Ball Super. The ultimate defensive ability where the body moves without thought, reacting to threats with perfect precision and zero conscious input.
Cartoon Cat's body moved.
His head tilted exactly the right amount. Hulk's fist passed by his face, so close that his whiskers (when had he grown whiskers?) rustled from the wind, but not touching.
Time resumed normal speed.
Hulk's punch continued past Cartoon Cat and hit the ground, creating a crater and sending shockwaves across the park.
Everyone froze.
"Did he just..." Iron Man started.
Cartoon Cat looked at his hands—his cartoon gloves—and they were glowing. Faintly. With a silver-white energy that pulsed in rhythm with his heartbeat (did he have a heartbeat? The jury was still out on his biology).
He pulled out a sign: "I THINK I JUST UNLOCKED ULTRA INSTINCT."
"THAT'S NOT REAL!" Tony shouted. "THAT'S FROM AN ANIME! YOU CAN'T JUST UNLOCK ULTRA INSTINCT!"
"I'M A CARTOON CHARACTER. I CAN DO ANYTHING IF IT'S FUNNY ENOUGH."
"THAT'S NOT FUNNY, THAT'S TERRIFYING!"
Hulk roared and attacked again. A flurry of punches, each one capable of destroying buildings, thrown with the rage and strength of the strongest Avenger.
Cartoon Cat's body moved on its own.
Dodge. Duck. Weave. Sidestep. His movements were minimal, efficient, perfect. He wasn't thinking—he couldn't think fast enough to dodge attacks at this speed. His body was just reacting, operating on instinct and cartoon physics and anime logic all fused together into something that was utterly unfair.
The Avengers watched in stunned silence as Cartoon Cat dodged every single one of Hulk's attacks without apparently trying.
"Okay, that's actually impressive," Hawkeye admitted.
"And deeply concerning," Black Widow added.
Captain America was analyzing the movement patterns, his tactical mind working overtime. "He's not even looking at the attacks. His body is moving before Hulk completes the motion. It's like he's predicting the future."
"He's operating on instinct," Tony said, his suit's sensors working overtime trying to analyze what they were seeing. "Pure reaction time enhanced by... I don't even know what. Cartoon physics? Reality manipulation? JARVIS, are you getting any of this?"
"Sir, the entity's movements are violating approximately seventeen laws of physics simultaneously. I cannot accurately model the defensive pattern."
Thor gripped Mjolnir tighter. "This creature is more formidable than we believed."
Hulk, frustrated by his inability to land a hit, jumped back and roared. The sound shook windows for blocks, birds fled from trees, and several car alarms went off.
"HULK STRONGEST THERE IS!" he bellowed. "CARTOON CAT NOT STRONGER!"
And then Hulk did something he rarely did: he got tactical.
He grabbed a tree—a full-sized oak tree, roots and all—ripped it out of the ground, and swung it like a baseball bat.
The tree was maybe forty feet long and weighed several tons.
Cartoon Cat's Ultra Instinct dodged the first swing. The second. The third.
But on the fourth swing, Hulk changed the angle mid-motion, using his incredible strength to redirect the tree in a way that cut off Cartoon Cat's escape routes.
The tree was going to hit.
Cartoon Cat's body reacted.
He didn't dodge.
He caught it.
His hands—his cartoon-gloved hands that shouldn't be able to catch a thrown tree—grabbed the trunk mid-swing and stopped it.
The impact created a shockwave. Leaves exploded off the tree. The ground beneath Cartoon Cat's feet cracked from the force.
But he held it.
Cartoon Cat looked at the tree in his hands.
Then at Hulk.
Then pulled out a sign with one hand while holding the multi-ton tree with the other: "MY TURN."
And then he swung.
The tree hit Hulk like a baseball bat hitting a baseball.
The green giant went flying, launched across Central Park, over the lake, past Bethesda Fountain, and crashed into the far side of the park with an impact that created another crater.
Every Avenger stared.
"He just..." Hawkeye started.
"Yeah," Tony finished.
Cartoon Cat dropped the tree—which immediately disappeared back to wherever cartoon-used objects went—and his body language shifted.
His stance changed. His energy intensified.
The silver-white aura around him flared brighter.
And then he moved.
Not toward the Avengers. Toward where Hulk had landed.
He crossed the distance—had to be at least half a mile—in seconds, his body leaving after-images, reality blurring around him as toon force and Ultra Instinct combined into something that made physics weep.
He found Hulk climbing out of the crater, angrier than ever, ready for round two.
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "I'M SORRY ABOUT THIS."
And then he punched Hulk.
One punch.
A single, perfectly executed punch, enhanced by Ultra Instinct's precision, powered by cartoon physics, aimed at exactly the right spot.
The impact created a shockwave that rippled across the park.
And Hulk... stopped.
The green giant swayed on his feet, his eyes unfocused.
And then he transformed, shrinking down, the green fading to normal skin tone, muscles reducing to normal human proportions.
Bruce Banner stood there, naked and confused, looking at Cartoon Cat with an expression of complete bewilderment.
"Wha... what just happened?" Bruce asked groggily.
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "I ONE-SHOT THE HULK. I'M AS SURPRISED AS YOU ARE."
He reached behind his back and pulled out a blanket—because Bruce was naked and that was awkward—and offered it to the scientist.
Bruce took it, wrapping it around himself, still looking dazed. "You... you knocked the Hulk out of me. With one punch. That's... that's not possible. I've been hit by Thor. I've fought Thanos. The Hulk doesn't just... leave."
"CARTOON PHYSICS PLUS ULTRA INSTINCT EQUALS REALLY UNFAIR COMBAT ADVANTAGES."
The other Avengers arrived, having followed as quickly as they could.
Tony landed first, his faceplate up, his expression cycling through shock, disbelief, and what might have been respect.
"You one-shot the Hulk," he said flatly.
Cartoon Cat nodded.
"With cartoon physics."
Another nod.
"And anime powers."
A third nod.
"I hate everything about this."
Captain America helped Bruce to his feet, checking him for injuries. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine," Bruce said, though he still looked shaken. "Just... confused. And a little impressed. Nobody's ever punched the Hulk hard enough to force a transformation before."
Thor landed nearby, Mjolnir in hand, regarding Cartoon Cat with new wariness. "You are far more dangerous than you appear, creature."
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "I PREFER 'SURPRISINGLY CAPABLE' TO 'DANGEROUS.'"
"You assaulted an Avenger," Black Widow said, her hand on her weapon. "Multiple Avengers. That's an act of aggression."
"YOU ATTACKED ME FIRST! OVER A TOASTER! A TOASTER I DIDN'T EVEN KNOW WAS SPECIAL!"
"You still stole it," Captain America pointed out, his voice firm but not unkind. "Regardless of intent, you took something that didn't belong to you."
Cartoon Cat deflated slightly—literally, his body losing a few inches of height as his confidence wavered.
He pulled out a sign: "I KNOW. I'M SORRY. I JUST WANTED GOOD TOAST."
There was a long moment of silence.
Then Tony started laughing.
It started as a chuckle, built into a full laugh, and within seconds the billionaire was bent over, howling with laughter that echoed across the park.
"We just—" he gasped between laughs, "we just had a full Avengers mobilization—because of TOAST! This is—this is the stupidest thing—I can't—"
His laughter was infectious. Hawkeye started chuckling. Then Bruce, despite his confusion. Even Thor's stern expression cracked into a small smile.
Captain America tried to maintain his serious demeanor but failed, a smile tugging at his lips.
Only Black Widow remained completely serious, though there might have been a slight softening around her eyes.
"This is ridiculous," she said, but without the earlier hostility.
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "THAT'S KIND OF MY WHOLE DEAL."
Tony finally got control of himself, wiping tears from his eyes. "Okay. Okay, here's what we're going to do. You're going to return my prototype—carefully—and you're going to promise not to steal anything else from Avengers Tower."
Sign: "DEAL."
"And in exchange, I'm going to build you a toaster. A normal toaster. One that just makes toast and doesn't contain revolutionary technology."
"REALLY?"
"Really. Because apparently you're powerful enough to one-shot the Hulk, and I'd rather have you making toast than causing problems."
Another sign: "THIS IS THE NICEST THING ANYONE'S DONE FOR ME."
"That's sad," Hawkeye muttered.
Before the conversation could continue, Cartoon Cat's oversized ears twitched. He heard something. Multiple somethings.
Web-shooters.
And a spaceship.
Oh no.
"UH," his sign said, "WE'RE ABOUT TO HAVE COMPANY."
"What kind of company?" Captain America asked, already shifting into combat readiness.
Spider-Man swung into view, landing on a nearby tree with his characteristic acrobatic flair. "Mr. Cartoon Cat! I heard the Avengers were fighting you and I came to—oh wow, hi, actual Avengers, this is so cool, I'm Spider-Man, we've met but it's still cool—anyway, I came to make sure nobody died because the internet is going CRAZY with videos of this fight!"
"Spider-Man," Captain America acknowledged. "This doesn't concern you."
"Doesn't concern—dude, Cartoon Cat is my friend! Sort of! We had a team-up! I can't just let you guys beat him up!"
"We're not beating him up," Tony said. "Anymore. We've reached an understanding."
"Oh. That's... actually much better than I expected."
And then the Milano descended from the sky, the Guardian's ship appearing over Central Park with its distinctive energy signature and complete disregard for Earth's airspace regulations.
The hatch opened and Star-Lord leaned out. "CARTOON CAT! We saw your fight on Earth's primitive internet information networks! That was awesome! We came to—oh crap, those are the Avengers. Guys, those are the Avengers."
"I can see that, Quill," Gamora said, appearing beside him.
"Should we leave?" Rocket asked from the pilot's seat.
"We came all this way!" Drax protested.
"I am Groot!"
The Avengers stared at the spaceship.
Tony's eye twitched. "Are those the Guardians of the Galaxy? Why are the Guardians of the Galaxy here? Why do they know Cartoon Cat?"
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "LONG STORY. INVOLVED SPACE ADVENTURES AND HELMET THEFT."
"OF COURSE IT DID."
Star-Lord jumped down from the ship—using his boot jets to slow his descent—and landed near the group. "Hey, Avengers! Big fans! Love what you've done with defending Earth! Listen, about Cartoon Cat—he's actually pretty cool once you get to know him. Helped us out with a cosmic artifact situation. Paid us in gold. Stole from the Nova Corps which was hilarious."
"He stole from an interstellar police force?!" Captain America looked at Cartoon Cat with new concern.
Sign: "JUST A HELMET. AND IT WAS SHINY."
"That's not a defense!"
Spider-Man was practically vibrating with excitement. "Oh my God, the Guardians of the Galaxy know Cartoon Cat too? How many superhero teams has he interacted with? Is he like, collecting us? Are we his Pokemon?"
"I'm nobody's Pokemon," Tony said flatly.
Thor was studying the Guardians with interest. "I know of you. You defended Xandar from Ronan. You have the respect of Asgard."
"Thanks, space Viking!" Star-Lord said cheerfully. "Your brother tried to kill us once. Well, kind of. It's complicated."
"It usually is with Loki."
This was getting chaotic. Too many people. Too many conversations happening at once.
Cartoon Cat needed to regain control of the situation.
He reached behind his back and pulled out something he'd been saving for a special occasion.
A pistol.
Not a real pistol. A cartoon pistol. Rendered in that classic 1930s animation style—simple lines, oversized barrel, the kind that would shoot out a flag that said "BANG!" instead of actual bullets.
And a fedora. A classic noir-detective fedora, black with a white band.
He put on the fedora—it sat at a jaunty angle on his head, somehow staying in place despite his complete lack of normal head anatomy—and held the cartoon pistol in a way that suggested he'd watched too many old detective movies.
His signs changed. Not in appearance, but in tone. The text somehow conveyed an accent—a classic New York detective accent, the kind from old noir films.
"LISTEN HERE, SEES," the sign read. "WE GOT OURSELVES A SITUATION. TOO MANY COOKS IN DA KITCHEN, IF YA CATCH MY DRIFT."
Everyone stopped talking and stared.
"Did his signs just develop a New York accent?" Hawkeye asked.
"I think his signs just developed a New York accent," Black Widow confirmed.
"HOW?!" Tony demanded.
"DA NAME'S CAT. CARTOON CAT. PRIVATE EYE. SPECIALIZING IN CASES OF MISTAKEN IDENTITY, STOLEN TOASTERS, AND GENERAL CONFUSION."
Spider-Man was laughing so hard he fell out of the tree. "He's doing a bit! He's doing a noir detective bit! This is amazing!"
"I am Groot?"
"Groot wants to know if he's okay," Star-Lord translated. "Mentally, I mean."
"I'M FINE, SEES. JUST SETTING DA MOOD."
Cartoon Cat twirled the cartoon pistol—which somehow created that distinctive cowboy revolver twirl sound despite being the wrong shape—and pulled out another sign.
"HERE'S HOW DIS IS GONNA GO DOWN. I RETURN DA TOASTER TO DA MECHANICAL MAN." He pointed at Tony. "SPIDER-KID HERE GOES HOME BEFORE HE GETS IN TROUBLE WIT HIS AUNT." Pointed at Spider-Man, who made an indignant noise. "DA SPACE COWBOYS HEAD BACK TO WHEREVER THEY CAME FROM." Gestured at the Guardians. "AND DA SUPER SQUAD FORGETS DIS WHOLE TING EVER HAPPENED."
"That's... actually a reasonable resolution," Captain America admitted.
"BUT," the sign continued, "FIRST, WE ALL ACKNOWLEDGE DAT DIS FIGHT WAS RIDICULOUS AND NOBODY TELLS ANYBODY ABOUT IT."
"The internet already knows," Black Widow pointed out. "There are videos."
"DEN WE ACKNOWLEDGE IT WAS RIDICULOUS AND MOVE ON WIT OUR LIVES."
Thor nodded solemnly. "The cartoon creature speaks wisdom."
"Stop calling him a creature," Spider-Man said. "His name is Cartoon Cat! It's respectful to use names!"
"Thank you, Spider-Man," Tony said. "But maybe don't lecture Thor on respect."
"SPEAKING OF RESPECT," Cartoon Cat's sign said, the noir accent still strong, "I GOT ONE MORE TING TO SAY."
He holstered the cartoon pistol—it disappeared into hammerspace the moment it left his hand—and tipped his fedora in a gesture that was somehow both respectful and cheeky.
"YOUSE ALL ARE PRETTY GOOD AT DIS HERO TING. EVEN WHEN YOUSE ARE CHASIN' A GUY OVER A TOASTER. KEEP UP DA GOOD WORK, SEES."
And then, because he was a cartoon character and drama was in his nature, he pulled out a smoke bomb from hammerspace and threw it at his feet.
The explosion of smoke was excessive—way more smoke than any normal smoke bomb would produce, billowing up in a cloud that obscured vision for a radius of about twenty feet.
When it cleared three seconds later, Cartoon Cat was gone.
So was the fedora and the noir detective persona.
Everyone stood there in silence for a moment.
"Did he just..." Star-Lord started.
"Yeah," Spider-Man finished.
"Where did he go?" Bruce asked, now wearing pants that Tony had pulled from a storage compartment in his armor.
Black Widow pointed at a shadow near a tree. "There. He's hiding in that shadow. I can see his eyes."
Two oversized cartoon eyes peeked out from the darkness, reflecting light like a cat's eyes would.
A sign emerged from the shadow: "DAMN. THOUGHT I WAS SUBTLE."
"You have eyes the size of dinner plates," Hawkeye said. "Subtle isn't really your thing."
Cartoon Cat emerged fully from the shadow, looking sheepish—or as sheepish as something with a permanent nightmare grin could look.
Sign: "FINE. I'M BAD AT DRAMATIC EXITS. HAPPY NOW?"
"Oddly yes," Tony admitted. "Look, Cartoon Cat—can I call you CC? I'm calling you CC—here's the deal. You're weird, you're powerful, and you apparently know half the heroes in the universe. Instead of fighting you, which clearly doesn't work and just creates property damage, I'm officially extending an offer."
"WHAT KIND OF OFFER?"
"A consultant position. With the Avengers. Unofficial. You don't have to join the team or follow orders or any of that. But when we need someone who can ignore physics and punch Hulk unconscious, we call you. And in exchange, we don't hunt you down every time you accidentally steal revolutionary technology."
Cartoon Cat considered this, his oversized eyes blinking in that slow, deliberate way.
Sign: "DO I GET BUSINESS CARDS?"
"Sure, why not."
"AND THE TOASTER YOU PROMISED?"
"And the toaster."
"CAN I STILL BREAK INTO YOUR TOWER SOMETIMES?"
"Absolutely not."
"WHAT IF I LEAVE FUNNY SIGNS?"
Tony sighed. "If you leave funny signs, I reserve the right to trap them and study them for scientific purposes."
"DEAL."
They shook on it—Cartoon Cat's oversized cartoon hand engulfing Tony's armored gauntlet—and just like that, an accord was reached.
Spider-Man swung over to Cartoon Cat. "Does this mean we're officially superhero colleagues now? Because that's so cool! We should team up more! I have so many questions about your powers! Can you teach me to do anime moves? Is toon force learnable or is it innate? Do you actually need to eat or is it just for fun?"
"KID," Cartoon Cat's sign said, "YOUSE ASK A LOT OF QUESTIONS."
The noir accent was back, apparently.
"I'm a naturally curious person!"
"I AM GROOT," Groot said from the Milano.
"Groot says it's time for us to go," Star-Lord translated. "We've got a job on Knowhere and we're already late because we detoured to watch you fight Avengers."
Cartoon Cat waved at the Guardians—a big, exaggerated cartoon wave.
Sign: "THANKS FOR STOPPIN' BY, SPACE PALS. CATCH YA ON DA FLIP SIDE."
"The accent is still happening," Gamora observed.
"I think it's stuck," Rocket added.
"DA ACCENT AIN'T STUCK. I JUST LIKE IT."
The Milano took off, disappearing into the sky with a burst of energy and a complete disregard for noise ordinances.
Spider-Man's phone buzzed. He checked it and his eyes widened behind his mask. "Oh no. Aunt May is calling. I'm so late for dinner. I gotta go! Cartoon Cat, text me later! We'll hang out! Fight crime! Confuse people!"
He swung away, his departure much less dramatic than his arrival but equally energetic.
Which left just the Avengers and Cartoon Cat in Central Park, surrounded by the evidence of their fight—craters, fallen trees, confused civilians taking photos from a safe distance.
"We should probably clean this up," Captain America said, looking at the destruction.
"I'll handle the PR," Tony said. "JARVIS is already preparing a statement about a 'training exercise gone wrong.'"
"TRAINING EXERCISE?" Cartoon Cat's sign said, the noir accent finally dropping. "THAT'S WHAT YOU'RE GOING WITH?"
"You have a better explanation for why the Avengers were fighting a giant cartoon cat in Central Park?"
"...FAIR POINT."
Thor approached Cartoon Cat, Mjolnir resting on his shoulder. "You fought well, creature. Your victory against the Hulk was impressive. In Asgard, warriors who achieve such feats are celebrated with feasts and songs."
Sign: "ARE YOU INVITING ME TO ASGARD?"
"Perhaps one day. If you prove yourself worthy."
"I'LL ADD IT TO MY TO-DO LIST. RIGHT AFTER 'STOP ACCIDENTALLY STEALING THINGS.'"
Black Widow was watching Cartoon Cat with that analytical gaze that suggested she was cataloging his every move for future reference. "You're going to be trouble. I can tell."
"I TRY MY BEST."
"That's not reassuring."
"IT'S THE BEST I'VE GOT."
Hawkeye collected his arrows from the vase Cartoon Cat had put them in—which was still sitting on the ground, perfectly intact despite the chaos. "Next time you want to borrow something, just ask. Saves everyone a lot of trouble."
"WHERE'S THE FUN IN THAT?"
"You're impossible," Hawkeye said, but he was smiling.
Bruce, now fully clothed thanks to emergency supplies from Tony's armor, approached cautiously. "I wanted to say... thanks. For the blanket. And for not hitting me after the Hulk transformed back. That was... decent of you."
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "I'M NOT A MONSTER. WELL, I AM. BUT NOT THAT KIND OF MONSTER."
"I understand the distinction."
Tony clapped his hands, the sound amplified by his armor. "Alright, everyone. Let's wrap this up. CC, you're coming with me to return the toaster properly. Everyone else, containment and cleanup duty. Thor, you're on civilian management—use your god thing to make them feel better about the property damage. Nat, Clint, perimeter security. Steve, you coordinate with emergency services. Bruce, go home and rest. You got punched hard enough to force a transformation; that can't be comfortable."
"It's really not," Bruce admitted.
As the Avengers dispersed to handle the aftermath, Cartoon Cat found himself walking beside Iron Man—or rather, floating beside him, as Tony preferred to fly even short distances.
"You know," Tony said as they headed back toward the tower, "you're probably the weirdest thing I've encountered. And I've been to space. Multiple times. I've fought aliens, gods, and rogue AIs. But a cartoon character with toon force and anime powers? That's new."
Sign: "I'M SPECIAL."
"You're something, alright." Tony was quiet for a moment, then continued. "The toaster thing really was an accident?"
"YES. I GENUINELY THOUGHT IT WAS JUST A TOASTER. I DON'T UNDERSTAND TECHNOLOGY."
"Clearly." Another pause. "The toast was good though?"
"PERFECT TOAST. EVERY TIME. WARM FOREVER. NEVER GETS SOGGY."
"Huh. Maybe I should look into that as a feature for the production model."
They continued in comfortable silence, the skyline of New York surrounding them, the city carrying on with its business despite the superhero fight that had just concluded in Central Park.
Cartoon Cat thought about his day. He'd fought the Avengers. Unlocked Ultra Instinct. One-shot the Hulk. Adopted a noir detective persona. Made peace with Earth's Mightiest Heroes. Got offered a consultant position.
All because of a toaster.
He pulled out a sign: "THIS IS THE WEIRDEST LIFE. SECOND LIFE. WHATEVER."
"You're telling me," Tony said. "My Tuesday consisted of tracking down a stolen toaster and getting into a fight with a reality-bending cartoon cat. How is this my life?"
"BAD DECISIONS AND GOOD PUBLICITY?"
Tony laughed. "Yeah, that sounds about right."
They reached Avengers Tower, landing on the platform designated for arrivals. Cartoon Cat carefully pulled the toaster from hammerspace—it had been safely stored there during the fight—and handed it over.
Tony examined it, his armor's sensors scanning for damage. "Surprisingly intact. You actually took good care of it."
"I TOLD YOU. I JUST WANTED TOAST."
"And you'll get your own toaster. Give me a week. I'll build you something special. Cartoon-physics-compatible. Should be an interesting engineering challenge."
Sign: "YOU'RE ACTUALLY A PRETTY NICE GUY. UNDER ALL THE SARCASM AND ARMOR."
"Don't spread that around. I have a reputation to maintain."
"YOUR SECRET IS SAFE WITH ME."
Cartoon Cat turned to leave, then paused. Turned back.
Pulled out one final sign: "THANKS. FOR NOT TRYING TO LOCK ME UP OR EXPERIMENT ON ME OR TREAT ME LIKE A THREAT. I KNOW I'M WEIRD. IT'S NICE WHEN PEOPLE ARE OKAY WITH THAT."
Tony's faceplate retracted, showing his expression—tired but genuine. "Everyone's weird in their own way, CC. You're just more honest about it. Besides, after everything I've seen, everything I've been through? A friendly cartoon cat is pretty low on my 'concerning things' list."
"FRIENDLY CARTOON CAT.' I LIKE THAT. BETTER THAN 'CREATURE' OR 'ENTITY' OR 'THAT THING.'"
"Then that's what we'll call you." Tony offered a hand—not in his armor this time, the gauntlet had retracted. "Welcome to the weird family of Earth's defenders. Try not to steal anything else."
They shook hands again, human and cartoon, billionaire and entity, hero and... whatever Cartoon Cat was.
"I'LL TRY MY BEST," the sign said.
"That's all I ask."
Cartoon Cat stepped backward into a shadow and disappeared, returning to his abandoned subway station home.
The cracked Nova Corps helmet was still on his shelf. He picked it up, examining the damage. It wasn't too bad. Maybe he could fix it. Or maybe he'd leave it as is—a reminder that even stolen space helmets couldn't last forever.
He pulled out a sign for his own benefit: "TODAY WAS INSANE. 10/10. WOULD ACCIDENTALLY START ANOTHER AVENGERS FIGHT AGAIN."
Then reconsidered and changed the sign: "OKAY MAYBE 8/10. THE HULK PUNCH HURT MORE THAN EXPECTED."
He sat down on his cartoon couch, finally allowing himself to rest.
His phone buzzed. Multiple messages.
Spider-Man: "THAT WAS SO COOL! You have to teach me Ultra Instinct! Is that possible? Can I learn Ultra Instinct? Please say yes!"
Deadpool: "I HEARD YOU FOUGHT THE AVENGERS AND I MISSED IT. We're not friends anymore. Just kidding we're still friends but I'm very disappointed."
An unknown number that was definitely Star-Lord: "Nice noir detective bit. Very retro. Come visit us in space sometime. Knowhere has great bars."
And one from Tony: "Toaster will be ready Friday. Don't break into my tower before then. I mean it."
Cartoon Cat smiled—not that he had a choice—and sent responses to everyone.
To Spider-Man: "Maybe. If you can handle the training."
To Deadpool: "Next time I'll call you first."
To Star-Lord: "I'll take you up on that space bar offer."
To Tony: "No promises. But I'll try."
He put the phone away and looked around his home. His collection of random objects. His stolen helmet. His cartoon furniture. His new life.
It was weird. It was chaotic. It was absolutely ridiculous.
It was perfect.
Cartoon Cat, formerly Marcus Chen, dead from gas station sushi and reborn as an internet horror icon with toon force and anime powers, settled into his couch and closed his eyes.
Tomorrow would bring new adventures. New chaos. New opportunities to confuse people and accidentally cause incidents.
But tonight, he was going to rest.
And maybe dream about perfectly warm toast.
Because even cartoon characters needed their simple pleasures.
The End... of Chapter Five.
(Somewhere in New York, Nick Fury was reading a report about the Central Park incident and experiencing the worst headache of his life. But that's a story for another time.)