The first thing Marcus Chen became aware of was that his bed had become inexplicably hard, cold, and smelled distinctly of garbage.
The second thing he became aware of was that he was lying in an alley.
The third thing, which really should have been the first thing if his brain had been working properly, was that he had absolutely no idea how he'd gotten there.
"What the actual—" Marcus sat up abruptly, immediately regretting it as his head pounded like someone had used it as a drum in a particularly aggressive metal concert. He blinked several times, trying to clear his vision, and took stock of his surroundings with the kind of growing horror usually reserved for people who wake up in Vegas with a wedding ring and no memory of the previous night.
This was not his bedroom.
This was not his apartment.
This was not, as far as he could tell, anywhere in his entire city.
The alley was narrow and grimy, wedged between two buildings that stretched up toward a sky that was just beginning to lighten with dawn. Dumpsters lined the walls, overflowing with trash bags and what Marcus really hoped wasn't a dead rat. Graffiti covered almost every available surface, most of it the usual territorial tags and crude drawings, but some of it—
Marcus squinted.
Some of it appeared to be an advertisement for "Damage Control: When Heroes Wreck Your Stuff, We Fix It!"
"Okay," Marcus said slowly, his voice echoing slightly in the confined space. "Okay. That's... that's fine. I'm fine. Everything is fine. I'm just hallucinating. I probably ate some bad pizza before bed. Food poisoning can cause vivid dreams, right? I'm pretty sure I read that somewhere."
He stood up shakily, using the grimy brick wall for support, and immediately froze when he caught sight of his reflection in a puddle of something he chose not to identify.
He was wearing his Blue-Eyes White Dragon pajamas.
The ones with the little Blue-Eyes printed all over them that he'd bought ironically and then started wearing unironically because they were genuinely comfortable.
"Oh no," Marcus whispered. "Oh no no no no no."
He patted his pockets frantically, searching for his phone, his wallet, anything that might help explain how he'd ended up in what appeared to be the set of a Marvel movie. His fingers closed around a rectangular object, and he yanked it out with desperate hope.
It was a Duel Monsters card.
Specifically, it was a card he'd never seen before, despite having been a Yu-Gi-Oh fan for the better part of fifteen years. The artwork showed a swirling vortex of rainbow light, and the text—
Marcus's eyes went wide.
DIMENSIONAL DISPLACEMENT
Spell Card
When everything goes wrong (and it will), remember: the monsters are your friends now. They're all here, waiting in the space between your heartbeats. Call them, and they will answer. But be warned—they are exactly what the ancient texts say they are. No more, no less. The good news is you're not dreaming. The bad news is you're not dreaming. Good luck, and try not to cause any international incidents.
P.S. - The Kuribohs say hi.
P.P.S. - Maybe cause a few international incidents. It would be funny.
"What," Marcus said flatly.
The card glowed briefly in his hand, warm and almost alive, before the glow faded and it became just a card again. A completely impossible card that had apparently transported him to another dimension and given him superpowers, if he was reading the cryptic nonsense correctly.
"WHAT," Marcus repeated, louder this time.
A pigeon startled and flew away from a nearby fire escape, cooing indignantly.
Marcus took several deep breaths, trying to center himself the way his therapist had taught him. In through the nose, out through the mouth. Focus on the present moment. Acknowledge your feelings without judgment.
His present moment was standing in a dirty alley in his pajamas holding a magic card in what appeared to be the Marvel universe.
His feelings were mostly hysteria with a side of complete mental breakdown.
And also, if he was being completely honest with himself, a tiny spark of absolute glee.
Because Marcus had been a Yu-Gi-Oh fan since he was eight years old. He'd watched every anime series, read the manga, memorized card lore that nobody else cared about, and spent countless hours imagining what it would be like if the monsters were real.
And now, apparently, they were.
Or at least, he could turn INTO them.
"Okay," he said, a grin slowly spreading across his face. "Okay. This is either the best thing that's ever happened to me or the absolute worst, and honestly? I'm leaning toward best. This is DEFINITELY leaning toward best."
He looked down at the card again.
Maybe cause a few international incidents. It would be funny.
"You know what?" Marcus said to nobody in particular. "The magic card has a point. This COULD be funny. This could be REALLY funny."
He thought about the Marvel universe. He thought about all the heroes and villains, the cosmic threats and street-level crime, the giant egos and dramatic monologues. He thought about how seriously everyone took themselves, how every conflict was life-or-death, how every hero had to be HEROIC and every villain had to be MENACING.
And then he thought about showing up to a fight as Pot of Greed.
"Oh," Marcus breathed, the grin becoming something closer to a cackle. "Oh, this is going to be AMAZING."
He tucked the card carefully into his pajama pocket and started walking toward the mouth of the alley, his mind already racing with possibilities. He wasn't going to be a hero. He wasn't going to be a villain. He was going to be something much more interesting.
He was going to be a problem.
The street beyond the alley was busy despite the early hour, filled with people in business attire hurrying to work, hot dog vendors setting up their carts, and yellow taxis honking at each other in what seemed to be a complex language of aggression. Marcus stared at everything with wide eyes, taking in the towering skyscrapers, the steam rising from manholes, the absolutely unmistakable sight of Stark Tower in the distance, its massive "A" gleaming in the morning light.
"Oh," Marcus breathed. "Oh, I'm in the MCU. I'm actually in the Marvel Cinematic Universe. Holy shit."
A businessman shot him a strange look as he passed, probably because Marcus was standing on the sidewalk in Blue-Eyes White Dragon pajamas having what appeared to be a religious experience.
Marcus barely noticed. His brain was too busy cataloging all the opportunities for chaos.
He could show up to an Avengers fight as a Kuriboh and just... observe. Menacingly.
He could help Spider-Man fight crime but only as increasingly ridiculous monsters, never explaining anything.
He could interrupt Doctor Doom's evil monologues by appearing as Pot of Greed and demanding he draw two cards.
He could fight HYDRA as the Egyptian God Cards and give Nick Fury a complete mental breakdown.
The possibilities were endless.
"First things first," Marcus muttered to himself, starting to walk in a random direction. "I need to figure out the timeline. And get clothes. And maybe food. But THEN—then the chaos begins."
He spotted a newspaper stand and hurried over to it, nearly tripping over a dog walker's leash in his haste. The headline made him stop dead in his tracks.
AVENGERS CELEBRATE ONE YEAR ANNIVERSARY OF BATTLE OF NEW YORK
Stark Throws Lavish Party While City Still Rebuilding
"One year after New York," Marcus murmured, doing rapid mental calculations. "So that means... Age of Ultron hasn't happened yet. Neither has Winter Soldier. Thanos is years away. SHIELD is still technically functional but secretly full of Nazis."
He stared at the newspaper for a long moment, the full weight of his situation finally sinking in.
He was in the MCU, before most of the major events. He had knowledge of the future. And he had the ability to transform into Yu-Gi-Oh monsters, which were apparently going to be "lore accurate."
"I could warn people," Marcus said slowly. "I could tell Fury about HYDRA. I could help stop Ultron before he's created. I could prepare everyone for Thanos."
He paused.
"Or," he continued, a wicked gleam entering his eyes, "I could just show up at random and confuse the absolute hell out of everyone. Save the day occasionally. Cause minor chaos constantly. Never explain anything. Drive every intelligence agency on the planet completely insane trying to figure out what I am."
He thought about it for approximately three seconds.
"Yeah, option two. Definitely option two."
A pigeon landed on his head.
Marcus screamed.
The pigeon flew away, cooing what sounded like avian laughter, and Marcus was left standing on the sidewalk with his heart pounding and several New Yorkers giving him looks that clearly questioned his sanity.
"Right," he said, trying to regain his composure. "Right. Okay. Step one is still 'get clothes that aren't pajamas.' Everything else can wait until I don't look like an escaped mental patient."
He patted his pockets again, hoping against hope that maybe the magic card had also given him a wallet, but no such luck. He was completely broke in a strange dimension with no ID, no money, and no idea what he was doing.
"Great," Marcus sighed. "This is great. This is fine. I'll just... I'll figure something out."
He started walking again, keeping his head down and trying to avoid the judgmental stares of passersby. His brain was working overtime, running through possibilities and discarding them almost as quickly. He couldn't exactly get a job without identification. He couldn't apply for help without a social security number that existed in this dimension. His only real asset was his monster transformation ability, and he hadn't even tested that yet.
"Maybe I should test it," he murmured to himself. "Somewhere private. Just to see if it actually works or if I'm having the world's most elaborate psychotic break."
He ducked into another alley—this one thankfully less garbage-filled than the first—and found a relatively secluded corner behind a dumpster. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to focus on the feeling of the card in his pocket, the warmth it had given off when it first appeared.
"Okay," he whispered. "Let's start with something small. Something that won't attract attention. Something—"
Kuriboh.
The name popped into his head unbidden, and Marcus felt a strange tingling sensation wash over his entire body. It started at his core and spread outward, like pins and needles but warmer, more alive. He gasped as his vision blurred, as his perspective shifted, as his entire sense of self seemed to dissolve and reform into something completely different.
When he opened his eyes, he was about a foot off the ground.
And covered in fur.
And round.
"Kuri?" The sound came out of him involuntarily, a high-pitched chirp that was absolutely not human. He looked down at himself—or tried to, since his new body didn't really have a neck—and saw brown fluff, tiny little clawed feet, and absolutely no arms to speak of.
He was a Kuriboh.
An actual, literal Kuriboh.
"KURI!" he shrieked, which came out as an adorable squeak instead of the scream of existential horror he was going for.
He bobbed in the air, discovering that Kuribohs apparently floated naturally, and tried to process the sensation of having a body that was approximately 90% fluff and 10% big green eyes. It was deeply, profoundly weird. But also, he had to admit, kind of nice? The world looked different from this perspective, brighter somehow, and he could feel something like happiness radiating from his very being.
Kuribohs are beings of pure light and positivity, his brain supplied helpfully, drawing from years of accumulated lore knowledge. They exist to protect their allies and spread joy. In the original mythology, they were created as guardian spirits, appearing weak but possessing hidden power.
"Kuri kuri," Marcus said, which loosely translated to "well that explains why I suddenly feel like everything is going to be okay."
He bobbed around the alley for a few minutes, getting used to the sensation of being a small fluffy ball of light and love. It was actually quite relaxing, once he got over the initial shock. The world seemed less threatening when you were a Kuriboh. Problems seemed more manageable. Even the garbage smell didn't bother him as much.
But he couldn't stay a Kuriboh forever. He needed to turn back, get proper clothes, figure out some kind of plan for maximum chaos.
Marcus focused on his human form, on the memory of having arms and legs and a face that wasn't just giant eyes surrounded by fluff. The tingling sensation returned, washing over him in reverse, and between one heartbeat and the next he was human again, standing behind the dumpster in his pajamas with his heart racing.
"It works," he breathed. "It actually works. I can actually turn into Yu-Gi-Oh monsters. Holy shit. Holy SHIT."
He leaned against the wall, trying to catch his breath and process what had just happened. He'd turned into a Kuriboh. He'd been a Kuriboh. And if he could become a Kuriboh...
"Blue-Eyes White Dragon," he whispered, and immediately felt the potential of it, the sheer POWER waiting just below the surface. If he called on it, he could become a dragon the size of a building, capable of destroying anything in his path with blasts of pure white lightning.
He very carefully did not transform.
"Okay," Marcus said shakily. "Okay. New rule. Do not turn into anything enormous or destructive in the middle of New York unless it's REALLY funny. Do not turn into the Egyptian God Cards unless the situation is completely dire or the comedic timing is perfect. Do not—"
A crash from the street interrupted his self-imposed rules session, followed by screaming.
Marcus's head snapped toward the sound. Without thinking, he ran out of the alley and into the street, his pajamas flapping ridiculously as he skidded to a stop.
The scene before him was chaos.
A man in what appeared to be a suit of mechanical armor—not Iron Man, something cruder and more industrial—was in the process of ripping an ATM out of the wall of a bank. Civilians were running and screaming, cars were swerving to avoid the debris, and in the distance, Marcus could hear sirens approaching.
Marcus looked at the crime in progress.
He looked down at his Blue-Eyes pajamas.
He looked back at the crime.
"You know what?" he said to himself. "First day in the MCU, first crime scene. This feels like a sign. This feels like the universe telling me to do something stupid."
The armored man succeeded in pulling the ATM free and turned to make his escape. That was when his helmet swiveled toward Marcus, who was standing in the middle of the sidewalk in his ridiculous pajamas, clearly considering something.
"The hell are you looking at, kid?" the armored man growled through his suit's speakers.
Marcus tilted his head, considering his options. He could go Kuriboh again—cute, harmless-looking, would confuse everyone. He could go Dark Magician—dramatic, powerful, would make a statement. He could go Blue-Eyes—terrifying, overwhelming, would probably cause more property damage than the robbery.
Or.
OR.
He could go with something absolutely unhinged.
"Hey," Marcus called out to the armored criminal. "Quick question. Do you know what Black Luster Soldier is?"
The armored man paused, clearly thrown off by this complete non-sequitur. "What?"
"Black Luster Soldier. Legendary warrior. Born from ancient rituals. One of the most powerful monsters in Duel Monsters history." Marcus cracked his neck. "No? Never heard of it?"
"Kid, I don't know what the hell you're talking about, but if you don't get out of my way—"
"That's a shame," Marcus interrupted. "Because you're about to get a REALLY good introduction."
And then Marcus transformed.
The sensation was nothing like becoming a Kuriboh. Where that had been warm and gentle, this was a surge of pure, overwhelming POWER. He felt himself growing, his body reshaping, armor materializing around him like it had always been there waiting. His perspective shifted dramatically upward as he gained several feet of height, and he felt the weight of a massive sword appearing in his grip.
When the transformation completed, Marcus was no longer a twenty-something in dragon pajamas.
He was Black Luster Soldier.
Eight feet of gleaming golden and black armor, a helmet that obscured his face entirely, a shield on one arm and a massive sword in the other. He radiated an aura of ancient power, of battles fought across millennia, of a warrior who had never known defeat.
According to the lore, Black Luster Soldier was a legendary warrior created through a sacred ritual, embodying the ultimate union of light and darkness. In the original manga, summoning it required immense sacrifice and was considered one of the greatest achievements a duelist could accomplish.
Marcus had just summoned it because he thought it would be funny.
The armored criminal had frozen in place, the ATM still clutched in his mechanical grip. Through the suit's speakers, Marcus could hear what sounded like hyperventilation.
"WHAT THE F—"
Marcus pointed his sword at the criminal. "PUT. THE ATM. DOWN."
His voice came out completely different—deep, resonant, echoing with barely contained power. It sounded like the voice of a being that had fought in wars before human civilization existed.
It was awesome.
The criminal dropped the ATM immediately. It crashed to the ground with a metallic crunch that was probably going to make some bank manager very unhappy.
"Good choice," Marcus said, lowering his sword slightly. "Now, I'm going to give you two options. Option one: you surrender peacefully, the police arrest you, you go to prison, life continues. Option two: I hit you with this sword. The sword is magical. You do NOT want to know what magical swords do to cheap mechanical armor."
"I surrender!" the man shrieked, falling to his knees. "I surrender! Please don't hit me with the magical sword!"
"Excellent decision-making skills." Marcus nodded approvingly. "See, this is why communication is important. We resolved this conflict without any violence. Personal growth. Self-improvement. I'm proud of you."
The police sirens were getting closer now. Marcus could see patrol cars turning onto the street, officers preparing to respond to what they had probably expected to be a standard armor-assisted robbery.
They were going to be so confused.
This was going to be GREAT.
Marcus turned to walk away, fully intending to disappear dramatically before anyone could ask questions, but then he stopped. A better idea had occurred to him.
He turned back to the terrified criminal, who was still kneeling on the ground with his arms raised.
"Hey," Marcus said conversationally. "When the police ask what happened, tell them Black Luster Soldier sends his regards. Can you remember that?"
"B-Black Luster Soldier," the man stammered. "Got it. Black Luster Soldier."
"Perfect." Marcus gave him a thumbs up, which looked absolutely ridiculous coming from an eight-foot legendary warrior in golden armor. "Have a great day. Try not to commit any more crimes. It's bad for your health."
And then, because he could, Marcus jumped.
Black Luster Soldier could, according to the lore, leap incredible distances and move with supernatural speed. Marcus discovered this firsthand as he launched himself onto a nearby rooftop, clearing the four-story building in a single bound. He landed with a dramatic clang of armor against concrete and immediately started running, leaping from building to building until he was several blocks away from the crime scene.
Only then did he stop, find a secluded corner of a rooftop, and transform back into his human form.
Marcus collapsed against an air conditioning unit, laughing so hard he could barely breathe.
"Oh my god," he wheezed. "Oh my GOD. That was INCREDIBLE. Did you see his FACE? Did you hear him SCREAM? 'Please don't hit me with the magical sword!' AMAZING. TEN OUT OF TEN. NO NOTES."
He lay there for several minutes, giggling helplessly at the ceiling, replaying the encounter in his mind. The sheer absurdity of it all was almost too much to process. He'd just stopped a crime as Black Luster Soldier. In the MCU. On his first day.
And nobody knew who he was or where he'd come from.
"This is going to be so much fun," Marcus said to the sky. "This is going to be SO. MUCH. FUN."
Three Hours Later
Marcus had managed to solve his clothing problem through a combination of creative problem-solving and light vigilantism.
Specifically, he'd found a mugging in progress, stopped it as a Kuriboh (the mugger had been so confused by the floating puffball that he'd just... stopped and stared, which gave the victim time to run away and call the police), and the grateful victim had insisted on giving Marcus fifty dollars as a thank-you.
"You just saved me as a weird floating furball," the man had said, pressing the money into Marcus's hands after he'd transformed back. "That was the most bizarre and wonderful thing I've ever witnessed. Please, take the money. Buy yourself a shirt. You look homeless."
"I AM homeless," Marcus had admitted. "But I appreciate the honesty."
So now he was sitting in a cheap diner, wearing a thrift-store t-shirt and jeans that almost fit, eating a stack of pancakes and contemplating his next moves.
He'd been in the MCU for approximately four hours. In that time, he'd stopped a bank robbery as Black Luster Soldier and a mugging as a Kuriboh. Two completely different monsters, two completely different appearances, two completely different sets of witnesses.
Nobody would ever connect them.
Which meant he could create as many different identities as he wanted.
"I could be a different monster every single time," Marcus mused, stabbing a piece of pancake with his fork. "Never use the same form twice. Or maybe create specific personas for specific situations. A scary one for real threats, a cute one for minor crimes, a ridiculous one for when I just want to mess with people."
He thought about the Avengers. He thought about SHIELD. He thought about all the various heroes and villains who would inevitably cross his path.
"Every single one of them is going to think I'm a different person," he realized. "Or that there's some kind of monster invasion. Or that the universe has just decided to start randomly spawning Duel Monsters."
He started laughing again, earning concerned looks from the other diner patrons.
"Okay," he said, pulling himself together. "Okay. Plan. I need a plan."
He thought about what he wanted to accomplish. He wasn't interested in joining the Avengers—too much oversight, too many rules, not enough chaos. He wasn't interested in being a full-time hero—too much responsibility, too much expectation, not enough fun. He definitely wasn't interested in being a villain—hurting innocent people wasn't funny, it was just sad.
What he WAS interested in was causing maximum confusion while still generally being a good person.
Save the day, but make it weird.
Stop the bad guys, but make everyone question their sanity in the process.
Help people, but in the most bewildering way possible.
"I'm going to create so many personas," Marcus decided. "I'm going to have different monsters for different occasions. A terrifying one that shows up for major threats and never speaks. A cheerful one that helps with minor crimes and gives motivational speeches. A mysterious one that appears to give cryptic warnings and then vanishes. And a completely random one that just shows up, does something inexplicable, and leaves everyone wondering what the hell just happened."
He was going to drive Nick Fury absolutely insane.
He was going to make Tony Stark question everything he thought he knew about science.
He was going to give the criminal underworld collective nightmares.
And he was going to have the time of his life doing it.
Marcus finished his pancakes, paid his bill, and stepped out into the New York afternoon with a spring in his step and a plan in his heart.
Time to get to work.
One Week Later
The Daily Bugle - Online Edition
MONSTER MADNESS: WHO OR WHAT IS TERRORIZING NEW YORK'S CRIMINALS?
By Eddie Brock
In the past seven days, New York City has seen an unprecedented surge in vigilante activity—but not from the Avengers or any known heroes. Instead, witnesses report a bewildering variety of creatures appearing at crime scenes across the city, stopping criminals before disappearing without a trace.
Monday: A bank robbery was thwarted by what witnesses describe as a "giant warrior in golden and black armor" calling itself "Black Luster Soldier." The creature reportedly gave the criminal a motivational speech about life choices before vanishing.
Tuesday: A mugging in Central Park was interrupted by a "small brown furball with giant eyes" that floated menacingly until the mugger surrendered. The creature then chirped happily and disappeared.
Wednesday: An attempted kidnapping was stopped by a "floating eye with tentacles" that witnesses say "just stared at the criminals until they started crying and confessing to every crime they'd ever committed."
Thursday: A car chase ended when a "dragon made entirely of darkness" swooped down and melted the getaway vehicle with "some kind of shadow breath." The dragon then reportedly said "You have been judged" and flew away.
Friday: A hostage situation was resolved by a "tiny fairy with angel wings" that flew in through a crack in the window and somehow knocked out all six armed perpetrators while giggling.
Saturday: A drug deal was interrupted by what can only be described as "a literal pot of greed wearing a tiny cape." The creature demanded the criminals "draw two cards" and when they couldn't, it attacked.
Sunday: The warrior in golden armor reappeared, this time stopping a jewelry store robbery. It gave another motivational speech, this one about "the importance of finding healthy outlets for feelings of inadequacy."
Authorities are baffled. The Avengers have not responded to requests for comment. And New Yorkers are left wondering: are these creatures connected? Are they all the same being? Or has the city suddenly become home to an entire menagerie of monsters?
This reporter believes further investigation is warranted. Stay tuned for updates.
Avengers Tower
Same Day
"Okay, seriously, what the HELL is going on?"
Tony Stark threw the tablet onto the conference table, where it displayed the Daily Bugle article alongside approximately forty blurry photos and video clips of various monster sightings.
"I've been tracking these incidents all week," he continued, pacing restlessly. "Different creatures, different abilities, different locations. But they all have a few things in common: they show up when there's crime happening, they stop the crime, and they vanish immediately afterward. No talking to police, no interviews, no demands. Just... monster, justice, poof."
Steve Rogers studied the images with a furrowed brow. "Could it be an invasion? Some kind of advance force?"
"Advance force that stops petty crime? What kind of invasion strategy is that?"
"A confusing one?" Bruce Banner offered, pulling up data on his own tablet. "Actually, I've been analyzing the energy signatures from the incidents we have footage of. They're... weird. They're all different, but there's something underneath that feels similar. Like different instruments playing the same song."
"So it could be one person," Natasha said from her seat at the table. "Shapeshifter? Multiple forms?"
"If it's one person, they have the most eclectic power set I've ever seen." Tony swiped through more images. "Look at this range. We've got knights, dragons, fairies, demons, eye-monsters, and—is that a literal jar with a face? Why does it have a face? Why is it wearing a CAPE?"
"I believe that is meant to be a representation of 'greed,'" Thor offered, looking at the image with genuine interest. "In Asgard, we have similar tales of sin given physical form. Though typically less... portable."
"Pot of Greed," Clint said suddenly, sitting up straighter. "That's Pot of Greed. From Yu-Gi-Oh."
Everyone turned to look at him.
"What?" He shrugged defensively. "I have kids. They went through a phase. That's definitely Pot of Greed—it's one of the most famous cards in the game. Lets you draw two cards." He paused. "Wait, are ALL of these monsters from Yu-Gi-Oh?"
He grabbed the tablet and started scrolling through the images, his expression shifting from curiosity to recognition to disbelief.
"Black Luster Soldier. Kuriboh. Thousand-Eyes Restrict—okay, that one's terrifying even in card form. Red-Eyes Black Dragon. Fairy Archer." He looked up at the team. "These are all Yu-Gi-Oh monsters. Every single one of them."
"So our mystery vigilante is... what? A really dedicated cosplayer?" Tony asked skeptically.
"These aren't costumes. They're the real deal—look at the shadow breath on the Red-Eyes, or the way the Kuriboh was literally floating. Someone is actually turning into these monsters. Or summoning them. Or... I don't know, but it's definitely not normal."
"Define 'normal' in a world with Norse gods and green rage monsters," Bruce muttered.
"Fair point."
Steve leaned forward, studying the images more closely. "What's the pattern? There has to be something connecting these incidents."
"Crime," Natasha said simply. "Every single one of these appearances happened at an active crime scene. Bank robbery, mugging, kidnapping, car chase, hostage situation, drug deal. Someone—or something—is actively hunting for criminals to stop."
"Vigilante behavior," Steve said. "Like what we do, but..."
"Weirder," Tony finished. "Much, much weirder."
"Also, the motivational speeches," Clint added. "Two of the reports mention that the big armored guy—Black Luster Soldier—gave the criminals speeches about self-improvement. What kind of vigilante does THAT?"
"A very strange one," Thor said approvingly. "I like this warrior. They have personality."
"Thor, please don't encourage the mysterious monster vigilante."
"Why not? They seem honorable. They defeat evil and offer wisdom. That is the mark of a true hero."
"They also turned into a floating eyeball that made criminals cry and confess everything," Tony pointed out. "That's... less heroic and more terrifying."
"Perhaps they are both hero and monster," Thor suggested. "Many great warriors of Asgard possess frightening aspects. It is part of their power."
The room fell silent as everyone contemplated that.
"We need to find this person," Steve said finally. "Not to stop them—they seem to be helping—but to understand them. If they're friendly, maybe we can work together. If they're not..."
"If they're not, we need to know what we're dealing with," Natasha finished. "Agreed. I'll start looking into it."
"JARVIS?" Tony called. "Start compiling all available data on these incidents. Cross-reference with any unusual energy signatures, dimensional anomalies, or other weird phenomena in the city. Let's figure out who or what we're dealing with."
"Right away, sir. Shall I also compile information on the Yu-Gi-Oh franchise for reference?"
"...Yeah, probably. This is my life now. Researching a children's card game to understand a vigilante. This is fine."
The meeting broke up, the Avengers scattering to pursue their various leads and theories. None of them noticed the tiny Winged Kuriboh hovering outside the window, watching them with big sparkly eyes.
Marcus had discovered that Winged Kuriboh was excellent for reconnaissance. Small enough to go unnoticed, cute enough to be dismissed as a weird bird if anyone did see it, and surprisingly fast when it needed to escape. He'd been watching the Avengers' meeting for the past twenty minutes, and it had been DELIGHTFUL.
"They're so confused," he whispered in his tiny Kuriboh voice, which came out as an adorable squeak. "They're all so confused and I haven't even really STARTED yet."
He floated away from the window, heading toward the rooftop where he could transform back without being seen. His mind was already racing with plans.
The Avengers were looking for him now. That was fine—actually, that was GREAT. It meant they'd be paying attention. It meant every weird thing he did would be noticed and documented and argued about in their fancy tower.
But he didn't want to get caught. Not yet. The fun was in the mystery, the confusion, the endless speculation about what he was and where he came from.
So he'd have to be smart about this. Keep switching monsters. Never establish a pattern they could predict. Show up in unexpected places doing unexpected things.
And occasionally, just to keep everyone on their toes, do something completely inexplicable with no apparent purpose whatsoever.
"Next on the list," Marcus murmured as he transformed back into his human form on a random rooftop, "is introducing myself to some villains. Can't let the heroes have all the fun."
He'd heard rumors about a guy called the Vulture operating in the city—not the Adrian Toomes version, but some other guy who'd apparently bought a knockoff flight suit from somewhere. Small-time stuff, but visible enough to attract attention.
Perfect target for some recreational villain trolling.
Marcus grinned and started planning.
Three Days Later
Somewhere Over Manhattan
The man calling himself the Vulture was having a bad night.
It had started out fine. He'd been patrolling his territory, looking for easy marks, planning a heist on a jewelry store that had just gotten a new shipment. Standard stuff. Nothing complicated.
Then the dragon had appeared.
Not just any dragon. A dragon made of pure, gleaming light, with blue-white scales and eyes that burned like stars. It was ENORMOUS—easily fifty feet long, maybe more—and it had materialized right in front of him in mid-air, blocking his flight path.
"WHAT THE—"
The dragon spoke, its voice echoing across the night sky like thunder:
"CRIMINAL. YOU HAVE BEEN JUDGED."
The Vulture, showing remarkable presence of mind for someone confronted with an impossible monster, immediately tried to flee. He banked hard, his stolen flight suit straining with the maneuver, and dove toward the city streets.
The dragon didn't follow.
For a beautiful, hopeful moment, the Vulture thought he'd escaped.
Then the dragon appeared in front of him again, hovering serenely with no apparent effort.
"FLEEING IS FUTILE. I AM EVERYWHERE."
"That's not possible!" the Vulture shrieked. "You can't be everywhere! That's not how anything works!"
"I AM A DIVINE DRAGON," the creature said, somehow sounding offended. "I WORK HOWEVER I WANT."
This was, in fact, not how Blue-Eyes White Dragon worked according to the lore. Marcus was just messing with him. But the Vulture didn't know that.
"What do you want?!" the criminal demanded, hovering in place since running clearly wasn't working. "Money? Territory? Whatever it is, we can make a deal!"
The dragon tilted its massive head, considering.
"A DEAL," it rumbled. "INTERESTING. WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO OFFER?"
"I—I can give you information! I know things about the criminal underworld! Who's operating where, what jobs are planned, who's got connections to bigger players!"
"HMMMM." The dragon seemed to think about this. "TEMPTING. BUT NO."
"No?!"
"I DO NOT NEED INFORMATION. I SEE ALL." This was also a lie, but it sounded cool. "WHAT I WANT IS SIMPLER."
"What? What do you want?"
The dragon leaned closer, its burning eyes filling the Vulture's entire field of vision.
"ENTERTAINMENT."
And then, before the Vulture could respond, the dragon vanished and was replaced by a small brown puffball that chirped happily and booped him on the nose.
"Kuri!"
The Vulture screamed.
He screamed all the way down to the rooftop where he crashed-landed, his flight suit sputtering and sparking from the stress of his panicked descent. He screamed as he rolled across the gravel, coming to rest against an air conditioning unit. He screamed until he ran out of breath, and then he just lay there, staring at the sky in existential horror.
The puffball floated down after him, bobbing cheerfully in the night air.
"Kuri kuri kuri!" it chirped, which the Vulture could swear sounded like laughter.
"What ARE you?!" he demanded.
The puffball seemed to consider the question.
Then it transformed.
Where there had been a cute fuzzy creature, there was now an eight-foot armored warrior in gold and black, wielding a sword that gleamed with ancient power.
"We are many," Black Luster Soldier said in its deep, resonant voice. "We are the spirits of the cards. We are judgment. We are chaos. We are..." A pause for dramatic effect. "...having a REALLY good time right now."
"The spirits of the—what?!"
"Don't worry about it." The warrior sheathed its sword. "Here's how this is going to work. You're going to stop committing crimes. Not because you're scared of me—although you SHOULD be scared of me—but because you're going to take a long, hard look at your life and realize that there are better paths."
The Vulture stared at him.
"I'm... what?"
"You're going to have a moment of clarity," the warrior explained patiently. "You're going to realize that crime doesn't pay—not really, not in the long run. You're going to think about what you actually want out of life, and you're going to find a healthy, legal way to pursue those goals."
"Are you... are you giving me life coaching right now?"
"I prefer to think of it as aggressive mentorship." The warrior reached down and hauled the Vulture to his feet. "You have potential. I can see it in you. But you're wasting it on petty theft and illegal flight suits. You could be so much MORE."
"I don't want to be more! I want to steal things!"
"That's the first stage of grief talking—denial. It's okay. The journey to self-improvement is long and difficult. But I believe in you."
"I don't WANT you to believe in me!"
"Too late." The warrior patted him on the shoulder with a gauntleted hand that nearly knocked him over. "I'll be watching. We'll ALL be watching. And every time you think about committing a crime, just remember: there might be a divine dragon waiting to judge you. Or a terrifying eye-monster. Or an adorable puffball. You never know."
"This is insane. YOU'RE insane."
"Perhaps." The warrior stepped back. "But consider: are we insane, or are we the only ones who truly see clearly?"
"...What does that even MEAN?"
"It means think about your life choices, Craig."
"My name's not—wait, how do you know my real name?!"
"We know everything, Craig."
(Marcus did not, in fact, know anything. He'd just guessed "Craig" because the guy looked like a Craig.)
(The guy's name was actually Craig.)
(Sometimes you just get lucky.)
The warrior vanished in a flash of golden light, leaving Craig the Vulture alone on the rooftop, questioning everything he thought he knew about the universe.
He handed himself in to the police the next morning.
When asked why, he said a divine dragon and its minions had "aggressively mentored" him into reconsidering his life choices.
The police had no idea what to make of this.
Neither did anyone else.
SHIELD Headquarters
The Next Day
Nick Fury stared at the report on his desk with his one good eye, and that eye was twitching.
"Let me get this straight," he said slowly. "We now have EIGHT different monsters operating in the city. They appear to be working together, or possibly are the same entity in different forms. They stop crime, give motivational speeches, and have now convinced a small-time criminal to turn himself in through what he describes as 'aggressive mentorship.'"
"That's correct, sir," Agent Hill replied neutrally.
"And our best theory for what these things are is... a Japanese trading card game."
"Yu-Gi-Oh, sir. It's actually quite popular."
"I don't care if it's the most popular thing on the planet, Hill. What I care about is that there's an unknown superhuman—or superhumans—operating in my city, and we have NO idea who they are, where they came from, or what they actually want."
"They seem to want to help, sir. All the incidents have been—"
"I know what the incidents have been. Helpful. Weird. THEATRICAL." Fury rubbed his temples. "That's what worries me. Anyone who goes to this much trouble to be confusing is either crazy or playing a very long game. And I don't like either option."
"Should we increase surveillance?"
"Increase it how? We can't predict where they'll appear next. We can't identify them between transformations. We can't even figure out if it's one person or multiple people." He threw the report down in disgust. "It's like trying to catch smoke."
"Maybe that's the point, sir."
Fury looked at her sharply. "What do you mean?"
"I mean... maybe they WANT to be confusing. Maybe the whole act—the different monsters, the speeches, the theatrical entrances and exits—maybe it's all designed to make them impossible to track."
"So they're smart. Great. That makes me feel so much better."
He stood up and walked to the window, staring out at the New York skyline. Somewhere out there, an unknown entity with incredible power was playing games with the city's criminals. Games that, so far, had been helpful. But Fury had been in this business too long to trust helpful.
"Put out feelers," he said finally. "Quietly. I want to know the moment anyone gets a lead on these... card game monsters. And Hill?"
"Sir?"
"If the Avengers start sniffing around—and they will—don't help them. Let them spin their wheels. If anyone's going to figure this out, it's going to be us."
"Understood, sir."
Hill left, and Fury continued staring out the window.
Somewhere in the city, Marcus was sitting on a park bench in his human form, eating a hot dog and reading the Daily Bugle's latest article about the "Duel Monster Menace." He was grinning so hard his face hurt.
"This is amazing," he murmured to himself. "This is the best thing that's ever happened to me. I have found my calling."
His phone—a prepaid burner he'd bought with vigilante reward money—buzzed with a news alert.
BREAKING: VULTURE CRIMINAL TURNS SELF IN, CLAIMS DIVINE DRAGON GAVE HIM LIFE COACHING
Marcus laughed so hard he nearly choked on his hot dog.
This was only the beginning.
Two Weeks Later
Marcus had developed a system.
He'd found an abandoned apartment in Hell's Kitchen—the owner had apparently died and the place was tied up in some kind of probate dispute, so nobody was checking on it. He'd cleaned it up, set up a sleeping bag and some basic supplies, and turned it into his unofficial base of operations.
He'd established multiple income streams: rewards from grateful civilians he'd saved, selling "information" to curious reporters (mostly vague hints about where the monster sightings might happen next, which he then made sure came true), and one memorable instance where he'd transformed into the Dragon of Ra and intimidated a loan shark into paying back everyone he'd cheated, with interest.
That last one had been REALLY fun.
But the best part—the absolute BEST part—was the growing confusion in both the hero and villain communities.
The Avengers had dedicated actual resources to tracking him. Tony Stark had created a whole database of his appearances, trying to find patterns. They'd figured out the Yu-Gi-Oh connection, which had led to the hilarious situation of Earth's Mightiest Heroes actually STUDYING a children's card game to understand their mysterious new competitor.
SHIELD was going crazy trying to capture evidence of his transformations. They'd almost succeeded once—a particularly observant agent had noticed Marcus ducking into an alley right before a Kuriboh appeared—but Marcus had escaped by transforming into Mystical Elf and teleporting away.
The criminals were TERRIFIED. Word had spread through the underworld: if you committed a crime in New York, you might get stopped by any one of a dozen different monsters. Some of them were scary. Some of them were cute. ALL of them would give you a lecture about personal responsibility.
The "aggressive mentorship" thing had become a meme.
Marcus had seen t-shirts.
He was so proud.
But now it was time for the next phase. He'd been operating in the shadows, building reputation and confusion. It was time to step into the light—or at least, into a slightly more visible shadow.
It was time to meet some heroes. Properly.
Marcus consulted his mental list of New York-based heroes who weren't Avengers. Spider-Man was active somewhere, but Marcus wasn't sure of the timeline—was this Peter Parker or someone else? Daredevil was definitely operating in Hell's Kitchen, which was convenient since Marcus had set up shop there. Jessica Jones was probably around, though whether she was doing hero stuff yet was unclear.
He'd start with Daredevil. A street-level hero who operated in the same neighborhood, with enhanced senses that would make trolling him especially entertaining.
This was going to be GREAT.
Hell's Kitchen
That Night
Matt Murdock was having a relatively quiet patrol when he heard it.
A heartbeat. Steady, calm, unconcerned—but somehow WRONG. It wasn't that the rhythm was off; it was that the heartbeat seemed to be coming from something that... wasn't quite human. The sound was there, the biological markers were there, but there was an overlay of something else. Something ancient. Something powerful.
And it was following him.
Matt stopped on a rooftop, tilting his head as he tried to pinpoint the source. Whoever—whatever—was out there, they were good. Moving quietly, staying in the shadows, maintaining a consistent distance.
"I know you're there," he said quietly.
Silence. Then, a soft chuckle.
"Good ears," a voice said from behind him. "Really good ears. I figured the whole 'heightened senses' thing would make this interesting."
Matt spun, his senses mapping the figure now standing on the rooftop with him. Human-shaped, male, average build—but that strange overlay was stronger now. It felt like the man was... more than one thing at once.
"Who are you?"
"That's a complicated question," the man said cheerfully. "I'm a lot of things to a lot of people. You've probably heard of some of my work? Random monsters showing up, stopping crimes, giving motivational speeches?"
Matt's expression shifted behind his mask. "You're the one behind the monster sightings."
"'Behind' is a strong word. More like... I AM the monster sightings. All of them."
"That's impossible. The monsters are completely different—different sizes, different abilities, different everything."
"And yet." The man spread his arms. "Here I am. One guy, many monsters. Wanna see?"
Before Matt could respond, the man's heartbeat changed. It went from steady and human to something entirely different—faster, lighter, accompanied by a strange thrumming sound like energy flowing through circuits that shouldn't exist.
And then Matt's other senses went haywire.
The figure in front of him transformed. It grew, shifted, became something massive and armored and radiating an aura of ancient power. Matt's radar sense painted a picture of golden and black armor, a helmet that obscured all features, a sword and shield that hummed with impossible energy.
"Black Luster Soldier," the creature said, its voice now deep and resonant. "One of my favorite forms. Very dramatic. Great for intimidation."
"What ARE you?" Matt demanded, shifting into a fighting stance even though every instinct told him this thing was far beyond his ability to hurt.
"I told you, complicated question." The creature—Black Luster Soldier—sheathed its sword, a gesture of peace. "Simple answer: I'm a guy from another dimension who can turn into monsters from a trading card game. All the monsters. Any of them I want. And I've decided to use this power to stop crime and confuse the hell out of everyone while doing it."
Matt's lie-detection senses were going crazy. Everything the creature said FELT true, but the content was so absurd that his brain was having trouble processing it.
"Why?" he managed.
"Why stop crime? Because I'm basically a good person despite my chaotic tendencies. Why confuse everyone? Because it's HILARIOUS." The creature made a sound that might have been a laugh. "Do you have any idea how much fun it is to watch Nick Fury try to figure me out? Tony Stark has a whole WALL dedicated to tracking my appearances. The criminal underworld is convinced I'm some kind of divine punishment. And I'm just a nerd who really likes Yu-Gi-Oh!"
"You're insane."
"Probably a little bit. But I'm also effective. Crime in this neighborhood is down 15% since I started operating here. I've saved dozens of people. I've convinced multiple criminals to turn themselves in through nothing more than aggressive motivational speaking." The creature paused. "I'm pretty proud of that last one, actually."
Matt didn't know what to say. This was, without question, the weirdest encounter he'd ever had—and he'd fought a man made of bees once.
"What do you want from me?" he asked finally.
"Want? Nothing specific. I just thought it would be fun to introduce myself. We're operating in the same neighborhood, figured we might bump into each other eventually, didn't want it to be awkward." The creature sat down on the edge of the rooftop, its armored legs dangling over the side. "Also, I wanted to tell you that I know about HYDRA being inside SHIELD, and you should probably warn Stick about the impending Hand situation, and also your law partner Foggy is a really good friend and you should appreciate him more."
Matt's blood ran cold. "How do you know those things?"
"I told you. Different dimension. In my world, there are... stories about this place. Entertainment. I know a lot of things that haven't happened yet." The creature's voice turned serious for the first time. "I could tell you everything. Every tragedy, every victory, every twist and turn. But that would change things, probably for the worse. So instead, I'm just going to drop occasional hints and hope you're smart enough to figure out the rest."
"That's incredibly frustrating."
"Yeah, I know. But consider: if I told you everything, would you believe me? Or would you spend so much time trying to verify my information that you'd miss the actual threats?"
Matt had to admit the creature had a point. If some random monster showed up and started predicting the future, his first instinct would be suspicion, not trust.
"Fine," he said grudgingly. "But if you're wrong about any of this—if your 'hints' lead me astray—"
"Then you can find me and we'll talk about it. I'm not going anywhere. Well, I'm going LOTS of places, but I'm based here now. Hell's Kitchen represent."
Despite himself, Matt felt a tiny flicker of amusement. This creature—this person—was possibly insane, definitely chaotic, and absolutely unlike anything he'd ever encountered. But there was something... genuine about them. A weird, twisted kind of honesty.
"Why Black Luster Soldier?" he asked, the question slipping out before he could stop it.
"Hmm?"
"You said you can turn into any monster. Why choose this one to talk to me?"
The creature was silent for a moment.
"Black Luster Soldier is special," it said finally. "In the game, it's one of the most powerful ritual monsters—you have to sacrifice other monsters to summon it. But in the LORE, it's different. It's a legendary warrior who embodies the union of light and darkness. Not good, not evil, just... power, directed by will."
"And that appeals to you?"
"I think it's appropriate for this conversation." The creature stood up, turning to face Matt fully. "You're not a simple person, Daredevil. You're a lawyer who beats up criminals. A Catholic who dances on the edge of killing. You live in the space between light and darkness."
"So do a lot of people."
"True. But not everyone embraces it the way you do." The creature reached up and removed its helmet, and Matt's senses informed him that underneath was a perfectly ordinary human man in his twenties. "I'm going to be around, Daredevil. You'll see my other forms—cute ones, scary ones, ridiculous ones. But I wanted you to know that underneath all of it, I'm just a guy trying to do good in the weirdest way possible."
The man put the helmet back on, and his heartbeat shifted again—becoming less human, more mythical.
"I'll be seeing you around. Good luck with the Hand thing. It's going to be a mess."
And then Black Luster Soldier stepped off the rooftop and vanished.
Matt stood there for a long moment, trying to process what had just happened.
Then he shook his head and continued his patrol.
Whatever that had been, it was apparently on his side. And in Hell's Kitchen, you took your allies where you could find them.
Even if they were certifiably insane.
Avengers Tower
Three Days Later
"We have a problem," Natasha announced, walking into the common room where Tony, Steve, and Bruce were gathered.
"More monster sightings?" Tony asked without looking up from his tablet.
"Worse. The monsters are making contact."
That got everyone's attention.
"Contact?" Steve straightened up. "With who?"
"Daredevil, for starters. SHIELD has informants in Hell's Kitchen—apparently the armored warrior met with him three nights ago. Had a conversation. And according to our sources, the conversation included specific references to HYDRA infiltration and something called 'the Hand.'"
The room went very quiet.
"HYDRA infiltration," Tony repeated slowly. "As in... HYDRA inside SHIELD?"
"That's what the source claims the monster said. I don't know how reliable—"
"It's reliable," Steve said grimly. "Or at least, it matches some things I've been noticing. Things that didn't add up. Operations that went sideways for no reason." He looked at the others. "I was going to bring it up eventually, but I wanted more evidence."
"So either our mystery monster is psychic, or they have access to intelligence that we don't," Bruce summarized. "Neither option is great."
"There's a third option," Natasha said quietly. "They mentioned being from 'another dimension.' If that's true—if they really have knowledge of events that haven't happened yet—they could be an incredibly valuable asset."
"Or an incredibly dangerous liability," Tony countered. "Someone with foreknowledge who's running around doing whatever they want, refusing to work with anyone, playing all sides? That's not an asset, that's a wild card. And wild cards get people killed."
"What do you suggest we do about it?"
"Find them. Talk to them. Figure out what their actual game is." Tony set down his tablet, looking more serious than usual. "This isn't about controlling them—even I can see that would be impossible. But we need to know what side they're really on."
"What if they're not on any side?" Bruce asked. "What if they're just... chaos? An agent of pure randomness who helps when they feel like it?"
"Then we need to understand the method in their madness. There's always a pattern, Bruce. Even chaos has structure if you look close enough."
"Thor would probably disagree. He says this person reminds him of Loki."
Everyone shuddered.
"Great," Tony said. "Just great. We've got a Loki who can turn into a Japanese trading card game. This is my life now."
Marcus's Apartment
Same Time
Marcus sneezed.
"Someone's talking about me," he muttered, stirring his instant ramen. "Probably the Avengers. I should send them a gift basket."
He considered what kind of gift basket one sends to Earth's Mightiest Heroes.
"Kuriboh plushies," he decided. "One for each of them. With little notes that just say 'KURI' in threatening handwriting."
He started planning.
One Week Later
Avengers Tower - Mail Room
"Sir, a package has arrived for the Avengers. It's been scanned and appears to contain... stuffed animals."
Tony looked up from his work. "What?"
"Stuffed animals, sir. Specifically, seven small brown fuzzy creatures with large green eyes. Each one has a handwritten note attached."
"...Show me."
JARVIS displayed the security footage of the mail room, where seven Kuriboh plushies sat in a neat row. Each one had a small card attached to its fluff.
Tony zoomed in on the cards.
They all said the same thing, in deliberately shaky handwriting:
KURI.
-Your Friendly Neighborhood Duel Monster Menace
P.S. - Tell Barton I'm a big fan of his kids' taste in card games.
Tony stared at the screen for a long moment.
Then he started laughing.
He laughed until tears streamed down his face, until he had to lean against his workbench for support, until JARVIS politely inquired if he was having a medical emergency.
"I can't," Tony gasped between laughs. "I literally cannot. This person is INSANE and I kind of love them. JARVIS, distribute the plushies to everyone. Make sure Clint sees his note."
"Right away, sir. Shall I also begin investigating how the package arrived without any return address or security footage of the delivery?"
"Yes, but I'm pretty sure we won't find anything. This person is way too good at being mysterious."
He picked up his Kuriboh plushie, examining it closely. It was actually well-made—soft, cuddly, with impressive attention to detail.
"Who ARE you?" he murmured to the plushie.
The plushie, predictably, did not respond.
But somewhere across the city, Marcus grinned.
Phase two: complete.
Phase three was going to involve Doctor Doom.
This was going to be SPECTACULAR.