The thing about running a successful interdimensional restaurant in New York, Cartoon Cat had learned over the past month, was that it attracted attention. Not just the good kind—celebrities, food critics, cosmic entities looking for excellent chocolate lava cake—but also the problematic kind.
The kind that showed up looking for a fight.
It started on a Wednesday afternoon, during the brief window between lunch service and dinner prep when The Glitch was technically closed. Cartoon Cat was in the kitchen, experimenting with a new pasta dish (he'd been trying to create a carbonara that somehow incorporated dimensional pocket herbs that tasted like memories of Italy), when the entire restaurant shook.
Not earthquake shaking. This was different. More... purposeful. Like someone had grabbed reality by the shoulders and given it a violent shake.
The dimensional door—which normally operated with smooth, impossible physics—rattled in its frame.
And then it exploded inward.
Not metaphorically. Actually exploded. Wood and cosmic energy fragments scattered across the dining room, tables overturning, chairs sliding across the floor.
Through the destroyed doorway stepped a figure that radiated violence like heat from a forge.
He was tall—seven feet at least—built like someone had carved a statue of human perfection from marble and then given it muscles on top of muscles. He wore Greek armor, bronze and red, with a helmet that left his face visible. His beard was dark and perfectly groomed. His eyes glowed with barely contained fury.
He carried a sword that was less a weapon and more a concept of war given physical form. It pulsed with energy that made the air around it shimmer with violence.
Ares.
The actual Greek God of War.
Olympian.
Immortal.
And currently standing in Cartoon Cat's dining room looking extremely pissed off.
Cartoon Cat, still in the kitchen, carefully set down his pasta and pulled out a sign: "WE'RE CLOSED. COME BACK AT 5 PM."
Ares's voice boomed like thunder rolling across a battlefield. "I AM NOT HERE FOR FOOD, CREATURE. I AM HERE FOR YOU."
"WHAT DID I DO?"
"YOU EXIST!" Ares pointed his sword at Cartoon Cat, who was now visible through the kitchen window. "You exist as an insult to the natural order! A cartoon character made flesh, operating on impossible physics, defying the laws set down by greater powers! Your very presence is an affront!"
Cartoon Cat pulled out a new sign: "THAT SEEMS LIKE A 'YOU' PROBLEM."
"IT IS A PROBLEM I INTEND TO SOLVE!" Ares raised his sword, energy crackling along the blade. "By destroying you and this dimensional aberration you call a restaurant!"
Now, Cartoon Cat had dealt with threats before. Kingpin. The Hand. Random villains who thought picking a fight with a cartoon character was a good idea. But this was different. This was a literal god. An Olympian who'd been fighting since before human civilization began.
This was going to be complicated.
He pulled out a sign: "CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS?"
"TALKING IS FOR COWARDS AND PHILOSOPHERS!" Ares charged, moving with speed that seemed impossible for someone his size, his sword raised for a strike that would cleave reality itself.
Cartoon Cat moved.
He phased through the kitchen wall—toon force making solid matter a suggestion—and emerged in the dining room, dodging the sword strike by inches.
The blade hit where he'd been standing and cut through three tables, two chairs, and probably some fundamental aspect of local physics.
"OKAY," Cartoon Cat's sign said, "IF YOU WANT TO FIGHT, WE FIGHT. BUT NOT IN MY RESTAURANT."
He reached behind his back and pulled out a portable hole—the same trick he'd used on Wolverine—and threw it at the floor beneath Ares.
The God of War fell through, roaring in anger and surprise.
Cartoon Cat jumped in after him.
They emerged in an empty lot six blocks away, both tumbling out of the dimensional passage into a space that was (importantly) not full of his carefully maintained restaurant equipment.
Ares recovered first, rolling to his feet with warrior grace, sword already moving in a follow-up attack.
Cartoon Cat pulled out his standard defense—a comically oversized mallet from hammerspace—and blocked the strike.
The impact created a shockwave that shattered windows in nearby buildings.
Metal met cartoon physics, divine power versus toon force, and the result was a sound like reality screaming.
"YOU FIGHT WELL FOR AN ABOMINATION," Ares growled, pressing his attack. "BUT YOU CANNOT DEFEAT A GOD OF OLYMPUS."
Cartoon Cat's permanent grin somehow conveyed determination despite being physically incapable of changing.
He pulled out a sign one-handed while blocking with the mallet: "WATCH ME."
They clashed again. Ares was skilled—millennia of combat experience translated into perfect technique. Every strike was precise, powerful, designed to kill.
But Cartoon Cat had toon force. He could dodge attacks that should be impossible to dodge. Could block with objects pulled from hammerspace. Could take hits that would destroy normal beings and just get comically flattened before popping back to shape.
The fight was spectacular and absolutely devastating to the surrounding area.
Ares unleashed a wave of divine energy. Cartoon Cat countered by pulling out an umbrella and opening it—the energy deflected around him like rain.
Cartoon Cat tried his Gum-Gum Rocket Punch. Ares blocked with his sword, the blade actually cutting through the stretched cartoon arm (which hurt—gods could apparently harm toon force constructs) before it snapped back and regenerated.
They crashed through buildings—well, Ares did. Cartoon Cat mostly phased through them, occasionally leaving cartoon-character-shaped holes in walls.
"YOU ARE RESILIENT," Ares admitted, breathing heavily. Gods apparently could get winded. "PERHAPS YOU ARE WORTHY OF A TRUE CHALLENGE."
He raised his sword to the sky and spoke words in ancient Greek. Divine energy poured down, surrounding him, amplifying his already considerable power.
His armor began to glow. His sword erupted in flames. His very presence became heavier, more oppressive, reality bending around him like light around a black hole.
Ares had gone into his divine war form.
Cartoon Cat looked at the powered-up god and pulled out a sign: "WELL. THIS IS NEW."
His mind raced. He needed something big. Something that could match divine power. He'd used Street Fighter moves, Mortal Kombat techniques, anime attacks...
Wait.
God of War.
The game franchise. The one with Kratos. The Ghost of Sparta who'd killed gods with the Blades of Chaos.
Could he...?
There was only one way to find out.
Cartoon Cat reached behind his back into hammerspace, but this time he reached deeper than usual. Not for a simple object, but for a concept. A weapon from a video game that had defined god-killing.
His hands found purchase.
He pulled.
And from hammerspace emerged the Blades of Chaos.
Twin blades attached to chains, wreathed in hellfire, weapons forged in the depths of Hades and bound to their wielder. Iconic. Deadly. Designed specifically for killing gods.
Except these were cartoon versions. Still functional, still powerful, but rendered in that distinctive animated style. The flames were brighter, more orange, the chains gleamed with cartoon shine.
Cartoon Cat gripped the handles, the chains wrapping around his forearms, and the knowledge came flooding in. Muscle memory from a game he'd never played personally but had absorbed through cultural osmosis and toon force.
He knew how to use these.
He pulled out a sign with one hand while wielding a blade with the other: "ROUND TWO."
Ares's eyes widened fractionally. "THOSE BLADES... THEY SHOULD NOT EXIST. THEY ARE FROM A FICTION ABOUT MY PANTHEON."
"I'M A CARTOON CHARACTER. FICTION IS MY WHOLE DEAL."
Cartoon Cat attacked.
The fighting style was completely different from anything he'd used before. The Blades of Chaos required fluid motion, spinning attacks, using the chains to control distance and create unpredictable angles.
He spun the blades in wide arcs, the chains extending, the hellfire leaving trails in the air. The attacks came from multiple directions simultaneously—overhead, from the sides, sweeping low.
Ares blocked and parried, his divine combat skills matching the legendary weapon technique, but he was actually being pressed now.
"IMPOSSIBLE," the God of War snarled. "YOU WIELD THEM AS IF YOU'VE TRAINED FOR CENTURIES!"
"TOON FORCE!" Cartoon Cat's sign appeared mid-spin. "I CAN DO ANYTHING IF IT'S COOL ENOUGH!"
They fought across the empty lot, then up the side of a building (Cartoon Cat ran vertically, Ares jumped with divine strength), across rooftops, creating a path of destruction that would give city planners nightmares.
Cartoon Cat unleashed a combo he'd seen in gameplay videos—spinning blade attack into chain grab into a launch that sent Ares flying upward.
He followed up by extending the chains impossibly far (toon force plus video game logic), grabbing onto a higher building, and yanking himself up to meet Ares in mid-air.
Air combat. Both fighters exchanging blows while gravity was more of a suggestion than a rule.
It was absolutely ridiculous.
It was spectacular.
And Cartoon Cat was actually holding his own against a god.
They crashed back to ground level, the impact creating a crater. Both combatants stood in the dust, weapons ready, assessing each other.
Ares was bleeding. Actual golden ichor, the blood of gods, dripping from cuts on his arms and torso where the Blades of Chaos had connected.
Cartoon Cat was damaged too—tears in his cartoon body from Ares's sword, though they were already healing through toon force regeneration.
"YOU ARE STRONGER THAN I ANTICIPATED," Ares said, genuine respect in his voice now. "PERHAPS DESTROYING YOU WOULD BE... WASTEFUL."
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "DOES THIS MEAN WE'RE NOT FIGHTING ANYMORE?"
"I DID NOT SAY THAT."
Ares raised his sword for what was clearly meant to be a finishing move, divine energy building to catastrophic levels.
And something inside Cartoon Cat clicked.
He'd been fighting hard. Using every technique he knew. But there was one thing he hadn't tried. One transformation he'd seen in anime, absorbed through cultural knowledge, wondered if he could access.
Super Saiyan.
The legendary transformation from Dragon Ball. Powered by emotion, achieving a state beyond normal limits, characterized by golden hair and a massive power boost.
Did it work on cartoon characters?
Only one way to find out.
Cartoon Cat thought about everything that had led to this moment. Dying from gas station sushi. Being reborn as a cartoon monster. Finding joy in this second life. Building a restaurant. Making friends. Creating something meaningful.
And now some god wanted to destroy it all because Cartoon Cat's existence was "an affront to natural order."
Anger. Pure, focused anger.
Not at Ares specifically—the god was just doing what gods did.
But at the idea that he didn't deserve to exist. That his second chance should be taken away. That his restaurant, his life, his friends should be destroyed because some cosmic entity was offended.
No.
Absolutely not.
The energy started building.
Not divine energy. Not toon force exactly. Something new. A combination of cartoon physics and anime transformation logic and sheer stubborn refusal to lose.
Cartoon Cat's body began to glow.
Golden light, starting from his core, spreading outward.
His permanent grin somehow looked more determined.
And then his fur—his black cartoon fur—began to change color.
Golden. Bright, brilliant gold. Like someone had taken the sun and woven it into his form.
His eyes shifted from their normal cartoon white with pinprick pupils to a more intense teal.
Energy crackled around him, yellow and fierce, making the air shimmer with power.
His aura exploded outward in a column of light that reached the sky.
Ares stopped mid-attack, staring.
"WHAT... WHAT IS THIS POWER?"
Cartoon Cat stood in his transformed state—Super Saiyan, somehow, impossibly—and pulled out a sign. The sign itself was glowing gold now, the text burning with energy:
"THIS IS ME NOT HOLDING BACK ANYMORE."
And then he attacked with speed that made his previous movements look slow.
He was fast. Super Saiyan speed combined with toon force velocity combined with cartoon physics that said speed was whatever the scene required.
The Blades of Chaos in his hands became a blur of golden fire and chain. He hit Ares fifty times in the span of a second. A hundred. The God of War couldn't block, couldn't dodge, could only weather the assault.
Cartoon Cat finished the combo with a massive energy blast—golden ki that he pulled from nowhere because Super Saiyans could do energy attacks and he was apparently a Super Saiyan now.
The blast hit Ares directly, sending the god flying through three buildings before he crashed into the street hard enough to create another crater.
Cartoon Cat stood there, glowing golden, energy crackling around him, the Blades of Chaos burning brighter in his transformed state.
He pulled out a sign: "YIELD?"
Ares climbed out of the crater, his armor cracked, his sword dimmed. He looked at Cartoon Cat—really looked, with the assessment of a warrior who'd fought in countless battles.
Then he laughed.
A genuine laugh, booming and filled with actual joy.
"MAGNIFICENT!" Ares's divine energy faded as he powered down. "I HAVE NOT HAD A FIGHT THIS ENTERTAINING IN CENTURIES! YOU, CARTOON ENTITY, ARE A TRUE WARRIOR!"
Cartoon Cat's Super Saiyan transformation flickered. He wasn't sure how long he could maintain it—the energy drain was significant, even for someone with toon force.
He powered down, his golden fur fading back to black, the aura disappearing.
Sign: "SO... WE'RE GOOD?"
"WE ARE INDEED GOOD." Ares approached, no longer hostile, and extended his hand. "I CAME HERE TO DESTROY AN ABOMINATION. I FOUND INSTEAD A WORTHY OPPONENT. YOU HAVE EARNED MY RESPECT."
Cartoon Cat shook the offered hand carefully. Gods had very firm handshakes.
"DOES THIS MEAN YOU WON'T DESTROY MY RESTAURANT?"
"YOUR RESTAURANT?" Ares paused. "AH. YES. THE DIMENSIONAL POCKET ESTABLISHMENT. I WAS GOING TO DEMOLISH IT AS PART OF REMOVING YOUR EXISTENCE."
"PLEASE DON'T."
Ares considered this. "YOU DEFEATED ME IN HONORABLE COMBAT. BY THE LAWS OF WAR, I OWE YOU A BOON. CONSIDER YOUR RESTAURANT SPARED. ADDITIONALLY..." He raised his sword, speaking another phrase in ancient Greek. Divine energy pulsed out, spreading across the area. "I HAVE PLACED A BLESSING OF ARES UPON YOUR ESTABLISHMENT. IT WILL NOT FALL TO VIOLENCE. WARRIORS WHO ENTER SEEKING CONFLICT WILL FIND PEACE INSTEAD."
"THAT'S... ACTUALLY REALLY HELPFUL. THANK YOU."
"DO NOT THANK ME. YOU EARNED IT." Ares looked at the destruction they'd caused—multiple buildings damaged, streets cratered, general chaos. "I SHOULD DEPART BEFORE THE MORTAL AUTHORITIES ARRIVE. BUT KNOW THIS, CARTOON CAT—YOU ARE WELCOME IN OLYMPUS, SHOULD YOU EVER VISIT."
"I'LL KEEP THAT IN MIND."
And with a flash of divine light and a smell like bronze and battlefields, Ares was gone.
Cartoon Cat stood in the destroyed lot, still holding the Blades of Chaos, processing what had just happened.
He'd fought a god.
He'd gone Super Saiyan.
He'd won.
And now his restaurant had divine protection.
He pulled out a sign for his own benefit: "THAT WAS INSANE."
Sirens were approaching—police, probably some superheroes who'd noticed the divine energy spike. Time to leave.
Cartoon Cat dismissed the Blades of Chaos back to hammerspace and shadow-walked away, emerging in an alley several blocks away.
He needed to get back to The Glitch, assess the damage to the door, start prep for dinner service—
His phone buzzed. Multiple messages.
Tony Stark: "JARVIS detected a massive energy spike and divine signature. Was that you? Also, please tell me you didn't fight a god. Actually, don't tell me. I don't want to know. But tell me."
Spider-Man: "THERE WAS A FIGHT WITH GOLDEN LIGHT AND EXPLOSIONS! Are you okay?! Do you need help?! I'm swinging over!"
Deadpool: "I FELT DIVINE ENERGY FROM MY APARTMENT. Did you punch a god? Please say you punched a god. I want to live vicariously through you."
And one from an unknown number: "This is Reed Richards of the Fantastic Four. We detected unusual dimensional fluctuations originating from an establishment called The Glitch. We'd like to discuss the scientific implications. May we visit?"
The Fantastic Four wanted to visit.
Reed Richards. Mr. Fantastic. One of the smartest people in the Marvel Universe.
This could be good. Reed could maybe help him understand the dimensional pocket better, offer scientific insights.
Or it could be complicated.
With Cartoon Cat's luck, probably complicated.
He typed a response: "Sure. Come by around 3 PM tomorrow. Before dinner service."
Then he shadow-walked back to The Glitch to survey the damage.
The door was destroyed—completely obliterated by Ares's dramatic entrance.
But the restaurant itself was fine. The dimensional pocket had protected the interior. Just the entrance needed fixing.
Cartoon Cat reached behind his back and pulled out a new door. A better door. One made from cartoon physics and toon force, reinforced with his intention to keep it intact.
He installed it himself—the door simply became the entrance the moment he wanted it to, physics bending to accommodate cartoon logic.
There. Good as new. Better than new.
He cleaned up the interior—righting tables, replacing the chairs Ares had damaged with new ones from hammerspace—and by the time he was done, The Glitch looked perfect.
Just another day in the life of an interdimensional restaurant owner.
The next day at 3 PM, the dimensional door opened and the Fantastic Four walked in.
Reed Richards led the way—tall, graying at the temples, wearing a blue uniform with a "4" logo. His eyes were already scanning everything, taking in details, his brilliant mind processing information faster than normal humans could think.
Behind him came Sue Storm, the Invisible Woman, blonde and poised and radiating the confidence of someone who'd faced cosmic threats and come out stronger.
Then Johnny Storm, the Human Torch, looking like he'd rather be anywhere else but following along because family.
And finally Ben Grimm, The Thing, his rocky orange form having to duck slightly to fit through the door.
"Fascinating," Reed said immediately, pulling out some kind of scanning device. "The dimensional properties are even more complex than I anticipated. This space exists in a pocket dimension that's somehow anchored to our reality but operating on different physical laws."
Cartoon Cat pulled out a sign: "HELLO. WELCOME TO THE GLITCH. WOULD YOU LIKE A TABLE?"
All four of them stopped and stared at him.
"Holy..." Johnny started.
"Language," Sue said automatically.
"It's a cartoon cat," Johnny continued. "An actual cartoon cat. That's like, what, ten feet tall?"
"Twelve feet currently," Reed corrected, not looking up from his scanner. "Though the height seems variable. Fascinating. The entity appears to operate on animated physics overlaid onto three-dimensional space."
Ben Grimm approached Cartoon Cat directly, his rocky face friendly. "Hey there. Name's Ben. You're the one who's been causing all the weird energy readings?"
Sign: "PROBABLY. I CAUSE A LOT OF WEIRD ENERGY READINGS."
"Fair enough. Nice place ya got here."
"THANK YOU."
Sue stepped forward, diplomatic as always. "We're not here to cause problems. Reed is just curious about the dimensional science. We've heard good things about your restaurant, actually."
"YOU HAVE?"
"Johnny is obsessed with food blogs," she said with a smile. "He's been wanting to visit for weeks."
"It's true," Johnny admitted. "The reviews are insane. People say you make impossible food."
"I MAKE VERY POSSIBLE FOOD. IT JUST USES IMPOSSIBLE INGREDIENTS SOMETIMES."
Reed was still scanning, walking around the restaurant, examining walls and tables and the kitchen. "The dimensional pocket is stable, which shouldn't be possible without a massive power source. What's maintaining the integrity?"
Sign: "CARTOON LOGIC?"
"That's not a scientifically valid answer."
"IT'S THE BEST I HAVE."
Reed looked like he wanted to argue but couldn't figure out how to argue with cartoon logic.
Cartoon Cat decided to be hospitable. He pulled out a sign: "WOULD YOU LIKE LUNCH? ON THE HOUSE. AS A THANK YOU FOR NOT TRYING TO STUDY ME TOO INVASIVELY."
"Can you make a burger?" Ben asked hopefully. "A real good burger? It's been a while since I had one that didn't come from some fancy place that makes everythin' too complicated."
"I CAN MAKE THE BEST BURGER YOU'VE EVER HAD."
"Then I'm in."
Sue looked uncertain. "We don't want to impose..."
"IT'S NO IMPOSITION. I LIKE COOKING."
Johnny was already sitting down at a table. "I want whatever your most popular dish is."
"AND YOU?" Cartoon Cat's sign turned to Reed, who was still scanning.
"I... suppose I could eat. Something simple. I need to maintain concentration for these readings."
"REED," Sue said with gentle exasperation, "put the scanner away for twenty minutes and eat lunch like a normal person."
Reed looked like he was going to protest, then saw his wife's expression and reconsidered. "Fine. Yes. Food. That would be... nice."
They settled at a table, and Cartoon Cat headed to the kitchen.
This was perfect. He could cook for the Fantastic Four, make a good impression, and they'd leave with positive feelings about him and his restaurant.
Simple.
Straightforward.
Nothing would go wrong.
(This was, of course, the exact moment when Cartoon Cat should have known something would absolutely go wrong.)
He made Ben's burger first—a masterpiece of beef, cheese, and perfectly balanced toppings. The kind of burger that made people emotional.
For Johnny, he made his most popular dish: the risotto that had impressed Gordon Ramsay, elevated with some dimensional herbs that added flavors normal ingredients couldn't achieve.
Sue got a perfectly prepared salmon with lemon butter sauce and asparagus.
Reed got a simple but perfect pasta primavera—vegetables, olive oil, parmesan, the basics executed flawlessly.
He brought the dishes out personally, setting them before each team member.
"This looks amazing," Sue said.
Ben took a bite of his burger and made a sound that was pure bliss. "Oh man. Oh MAN. This is the best burger I've ever had. How did you—what did you—this is perfect."
"CARTOON PHYSICS HELPS WITH COOKING."
Johnny tried his risotto and his eyes widened. "Okay, the internet wasn't lying. This is insane. What is this flavor? It tastes like... like memory of Italy? How is that possible?"
"DIMENSIONAL POCKET HERBS. THEY TASTE LIKE CONCEPTS."
Reed ate his pasta methodically, but even his scientific mind couldn't deny the quality. "This is... exceptionally good. The texture is precisely al dente. The ratios are mathematically perfect."
They ate in comfortable silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the food.
Then Reed's scanner, which he'd set on the table, started beeping urgently.
"What is it?" Sue asked.
Reed picked it up, examined the readings, and his expression shifted to concern. "There's a dimensional instability forming. Small, but growing. It's coming from... the kitchen?"
Cartoon Cat's permanent grin somehow conveyed confusion. He pulled out a sign: "THERE SHOULDN'T BE ANYTHING UNSTABLE IN MY KITCHEN."
"May I investigate?"
"SURE. JUST DON'T TOUCH ANYTHING."
Reed headed to the kitchen, scanner in hand, the others following out of curiosity.
Cartoon Cat trailed behind, wondering what could possibly be causing—
Oh no.
Reed was standing in front of the hammerspace access point. The spot where Cartoon Cat pulled ingredients and objects from nowhere. The scanner was going crazy.
"This is remarkable," Reed breathed. "You're accessing a genuine hammerspace dimension. I've theorized about this kind of storage for years, but to see it functioning, stable, operated by toon force..." His hand reached out toward the shimmer in the air.
"WAIT DON'T—"
Too late.
Reed's stretching powers activated instinctively as his hand touched the hammerspace access point, and his entire arm got sucked in.
"Reed!" Sue shouted.
Reed's arm stretched further, pulled deeper into hammerspace by forces he didn't understand. His brilliant mind was trying to process what was happening, but hammerspace didn't operate on science. It operated on cartoon logic and narrative convenience.
His arm came back.
Holding objects.
Random objects, pulled from the infinite storage of cartoon hammerspace.
A rubber chicken. A bicycle horn. What appeared to be a prototype of some kind of Fantastic Four technology. A photograph of the team. Someone's (probably Reed's) old college textbook. A gadget that was beeping ominously.
"Fascinating," Reed said, even as objects kept appearing in his grip. "The storage space is non-Euclidean. It contains items from multiple timelines and possibilities. This rubber chicken exists in a quantum state of both comedy and utility."
"REED," Cartoon Cat's sign said urgently, "YOU NEED TO STOP PULLING THINGS OUT."
"Why? This is a unprecedented scientific opportunity to—"
The beeping gadget in his hand exploded.
Not dangerously. Just a small pop of energy and confetti.
But it startled Reed, who jerked backward, his stretched arm yanking out of hammerspace and bringing with it approximately fifty more random objects.
They clattered to the kitchen floor in a pile of chaos.
Ben picked up what looked like a model of the Baxter Building. "Hey, I made this in shop class when I was twelve. How did it end up in cartoon hammerspace?"
"HAMMERSPACE CONTAINS MULTITUDES," Cartoon Cat's sign explained. "IT DOESN'T ALWAYS MAKE SENSE."
Johnny was holding what appeared to be his own action figure. "Why do you have Human Torch merchandise?"
"I DON'T. HAMMERSPACE JUST HAS THINGS. RANDOM THINGS."
Sue picked up a device that was clearly Fantastic Four technology—something Reed had probably built years ago. "Reed, is this the dimensional stabilizer you lost last year?"
Reed examined it. "Yes! I've been looking for this! How did it end up in hammerspace?"
"I TOLD YOU. HAMMERSPACE IS WEIRD."
Reed's scientific curiosity was now fully engaged. "Can I study this? The hammerspace access point? I promise to be careful."
"NO."
"Please? I'll make it worth your while. I can offer technology, scientific consultation, access to Fantastic Four resources—"
Cartoon Cat's cartoon instincts tingled. Reed Richards wanted to study hammerspace. Which meant Reed Richards would be distracted, focused, not paying attention to other things.
Which meant Cartoon Cat could probably...
No.
Bad idea.
He shouldn't.
He absolutely shouldn't.
But Reed had pulled out FF technology from hammerspace, which meant hammerspace had access to Fantastic Four stuff, which meant if Cartoon Cat reached into hammerspace while thinking about FF technology...
His hand went behind his back before his better judgment could stop him.
He pulled.
Out came a device. Small, silver, covered in buttons and displays that Reed would probably understand but Cartoon Cat definitely didn't.
"That's a molecular recombinator!" Reed exclaimed. "I've been working on that prototype for months! It's in my lab in the Baxter Building! How do you have it?!"
Cartoon Cat looked at the device in his hand.
Then at Reed.
Then pulled out a sign: "I ACCIDENTALLY STOLE IT. JUST NOW. FROM YOUR LAB. THROUGH HAMMERSPACE."
There was a moment of silence.
"You can steal things through hammerspace?" Sue asked carefully.
"APPARENTLY. I DIDN'T KNOW I COULD DO THAT."
"That's..." Reed was cycling through emotions rapidly. "That's incredible! The dimensional mechanics required to access a specific location through hammerspace, to target particular objects, the precision needed—"
"REED," Ben interrupted, "the cartoon cat just admitted to accidentally stealin' from our lab."
"Yes, but the SCIENCE—"
"Focus, honey," Sue said gently but firmly. "We can discuss the science after we address the theft."
Cartoon Cat felt genuinely bad. He pulled out a sign: "I'M SORRY. I DIDN'T MEAN TO. I WAS JUST THINKING ABOUT FF TECH AND MY HAND PULLED IT OUT."
"Can you put it back?" Johnny asked.
"I... DON'T KNOW? I'VE NEVER TRIED PUTTING THINGS BACK INTO HAMMERSPACE. USUALLY THEY JUST DISAPPEAR WHEN I'M DONE WITH THEM."
Reed was examining his scanner again. "The dimensional signature suggests a two-way connection. Theoretically, if you can pull objects out, you should be able to return them."
Cartoon Cat concentrated. He thought about the Baxter Building, Reed's lab, the specific place this device belonged.
He held the molecular recombinator, focused, and pushed it toward the hammerspace access point behind his back.
It disappeared.
Reed's scanner beeped. "Confirmed. The device just reappeared in my lab. Remarkable. You have theft and return capabilities through cartoon physics."
"I PREFER TO THINK OF IT AS INTERDIMENSIONAL BORROWING."
"It's still theft," Sue pointed out, but she was smiling slightly.
"I KNOW. I'M SORRY. I'LL TRY NOT TO ACCIDENTALLY STEAL YOUR STUFF."
"Try?" Johnny repeated.
"HAMMERSPACE HAS A MIND OF ITS OWN SOMETIMES."
Ben was laughing now, his rocky features somehow conveying genuine amusement. "This is the weirdest lunch I've ever had, and I've had lunch during a Skrull invasion."
They returned to the dining room, Reed still muttering about dimensional mechanics, the others finishing their meals.
But Cartoon Cat's curiosity had been activated.
If he could pull FF tech from hammerspace accidentally...
What else could he pull?
His hand went behind his back again. Just testing. Just seeing.
He pulled out Johnny's car keys.
"HEY!" Johnny patted his pockets. "Those were in my jacket! In the Fantasticar!"
"SORRY." Cartoon Cat handed them back. "HAMMERSPACE IS BEING WEIRD TODAY."
Another pull. Sue's phone appeared.
"Okay, that's my phone," Sue said, her patience visibly wearing thin. "Which was in my purse. Which is in the Baxter Building."
"I'M REALLY SORRY. I'LL STOP."
But he pulled one more time. Just once more.
Out came what appeared to be one of Reed's spare uniforms, a scientific journal with Reed's notes, and—somehow—a framed photo of the Fantastic Four.
"OKAY I'M DEFINITELY STOPPING NOW."
Reed was staring at the pile of his possessions. "You just ransacked my lab through cartoon hammerspace."
"IT WAS AN ACCIDENT."
"Multiple times?"
"MULTIPLE ACCIDENTS."
Sue was trying not to laugh. Ben had given up and was openly chuckling. Johnny looked offended on Reed's behalf but also amused.
Reed took a deep breath. "Alright. Here's what's going to happen. You're going to return everything you've accidentally stolen—"
"ALREADY DOING IT." Cartoon Cat was pushing items back into hammerspace as fast as he could.
"—and in exchange, I'm not going to report this to... anyone. I don't even know who I'd report this to. Is there a dimensional theft police?"
"THE NOVA CORPS MAYBE?"
"I'm not calling the Nova Corps on a cartoon cat who makes excellent pasta."
Everything was returned. The kitchen was clear of stolen FF property. The team finished their lunch in peace.
As they were leaving, Reed turned back to Cartoon Cat. "Despite the theft—accidental theft—this was enlightening. Your restaurant is scientifically fascinating, your food is exceptional, and you're... unique."
Sign: "THANK YOU?"
"I'll be back. With more scanning equipment. And possibly some hammerspace-proof containers for my lab."
"THAT'S FAIR."
Sue shook Cartoon Cat's hand—or tried to, his oversized glove made it awkward. "Thank you for lunch. It really was wonderful. And thank you for returning Reed's things."
"OF COURSE. SORRY FOR STEALING THEM."
"Accidental stealing," she corrected with a smile.
Ben gave Cartoon Cat a thumbs up with his rocky hand. "Best burger in New York, hands down. I'm comin' back."
"ANYTIME."
Johnny paused at the door. "So, can you teach me how to accidentally steal things through hammerspace? Because that seems useful."
"NO."
"Worth a shot."
They left through the dimensional door, and Cartoon Cat was alone again in his restaurant.
He pulled out a sign for his own benefit: "TODAY I FOUGHT A GOD, WENT SUPER SAIYAN, AND ACCIDENTALLY STOLE FROM THE FANTASTIC FOUR."
Another sign: "NORMAL TUESDAY."
His phone buzzed.
Reed Richards: "Thank you again for lunch. All my equipment has been returned safely. Please don't accidentally steal from my lab anymore. But if you do, let me know so I can collect data on the dimensional transfer process."
Cartoon Cat typed back: "Will try. No promises. Hammerspace is unpredictable."
He had a few hours before dinner service. Time to prep, organize, make sure the kitchen was ready.
As he worked, he thought about his day.
Fighting Ares had been terrifying and exhilarating. Going Super Saiyan had been... he still wasn't sure how that had worked, but it had been amazing. And the Fantastic Four had been genuinely nice people, even after he'd accidentally stolen their stuff.
Life was good.
Weird, chaotic, full of divine battles and interdimensional theft, but good.
Cartoon Cat pulled out his special toaster and made some toast, eating it while doing prep work.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges. New customers. Probably new chaos.
But tonight, he had dinner service to run.
And he was going to make it perfect.
Because that's what chefs did.
Even cartoon chefs who could go Super Saiyan and accidentally steal from superhero teams.
The End... of Chapter Eight.
(In the Baxter Building, Reed Richards was already designing hammerspace-proof storage containers. In Olympus, Ares was telling other gods about the cartoon warrior who'd earned his respect. And somewhere in the dimensional fabric of reality, hammerspace was quietly cataloging its newest acquisitions and wondering when Cartoon Cat would accidentally steal from someone else. But those are stories for another time.)