Chapter 1

"Iron Man is way better than the Hulk!" Joey's vehement protest startled Seto out of his concentration. In response, he glared at the open door that led to his study. Honestly, that idiot couldn't sit tight for more than five minutes, which was the increment of time between now and Seto telling him to shut up so he could work. He checked his watch.

Strike that, three minutes.

Groaning, he got to his feet, stalked over to the door and slammed it shut pointedly before returning to his desk. He did not want to have to deal with the stupid little debate that was occurring against his will a few doors down. He didn't have time to dedicate to arguing the prowess of different super heroes as if they were sizing up fighting hounds. Though it was ironic that they had been talking about Iron Man, given that he was supposed to be calling Stark himself soon.

Seto bit back a grumble of frustration when a webchat request from user name "IMStark" interrupted him as if on cue. He'd been procrastinating the call for so long that he'd started to hope that Stark would forget about the obligation entirely. Sighing, Seto accepted the chat, and found himself virtually face-to-face with the one and only Tony Stark.

"Hi, Kaiba-boy," Stark smirked, in imitation of Pegasus. Seto almost snarled, his eyes blazing as his lip curled in displeasure.

"Don't call me that, Stark. My patience for you is already wearing thin."

"I'm hurt. I feel entitled to give you cute nicknames, too," Stark replied in that subtly dry way of his. It grated on Seto badly, mostly because they had such similar ways of being sarcastic that they could potentially banter forever. The difference was that Seto didn't find everything to be a laughing matter. Thank heaven that Stark was an ocean away. He would have been sorely tempted to attack the man if he was forced to interact with him personally. Hopefully that wouldn't become a problem in the near future.

"We're ready here in New York," Stark continued, his humor shifting into his more authoritative business poise, "And everything has been arranged. Are we ready to go public?"

"We're ready," Seto stated, "My guests and I will leave this evening and should arrive in New York by eight PM. What time is your dinner?"

"The dinner party, Kaiba, this isn't the temperance society. The schedule starts it at seven. I'll have a limo meet you and your friends at the airport to take you to the hotel."

Seto didn't respond immediately, schooling his face against a sour expression at the mention of a dinner party. He hated events that involved being clustered in controlled areas with any number of strangers for hours on end. What made matters worse was the fact that he wouldn't be the one directing the event, so he was denied even that small comfort. Stark would be the center of attention, announcing the merging of their companies to the interested parties (and esteemed guests) assembled. Seto would have little more to do than pretend he was excited about the opportunity and stare impassively at the crowd.

"Don't insult me by calling those people my friends, Stark."

"I'm going to assume I'm right in saying you're a little touchier than usual," Stark replied nonchalantly. Seto was taken aback by his boldness. "You should brighten up, kid."

"And you should learn some manners," Seto replied sharply, "But we don't all get what we want. What exactly do you expect me to be happy about?"

"Your new and exciting opportunity to have a normal-ish teenage life? Kid, you're nineteen, and your social life ranges from nothing to garbage. Have you even had a date before? A kiss? Anything?"

Seto stared at him, his face placid but his eyes sharp as daggers. The threat behind them didn't seem to concern Stark.

"Whoa, scary eyes. I'm taking that as a no, then."

"Sir, Ms. Potts is waiting for you on the other line," JARVIS' electronic voice could be heard in the background before Seto had an opportunity to respond.

"Thank you, Jarvis. Talk to you soon, Kaiba-boy."

Stark ended the chat before Seto could reply, and he had to settle for glaring at the screen. Tony Stark infuriated him in many ways that reminded him of Pegasus, but at least the former had never tried to destroy everything he held dear. Perhaps what made Stark so pestilent was the fact that he had no choice but to work with him. After all, they were partners now.

Kaiba Corporation and Stark Industries were merging. Seto hadn't been for it, but he'd been very interested in the clean energy business after seeing how Stark had managed to make it practical. But Stark had kept his permissions close, intending to stay in sole control of clean energy for the time being. It was understandable, of course—Seto knew he would have done the same, especially after what happened in New York.

What he hadn't empathized with was the leaked information that Stark was trying his hand at virtual reality, starting with a game based on the recent catastrophe. Rather than wasting their time and resources trying to reverse-engineer one another's unique products (and possibly starting an international turf war), they had agreed to merge their companies. Though Seto knew he would probably win a fight for dominance—being the less conventionally moral of the two—the risks and losses would be too great.

This way, he and Stark would have access to the pinnacles of clean energy and the gaming businesses. It was a win-win situation. Seto had chosen, after some deliberation, to retire from his position as an executive and become the Chairman of the Board for New Millennium Industries, as they were calling it. It had been a difficult choice, and the fact that Stark encouraged him to do it (with such obvious ulterior motives) had caused quite a bit of tension during the merger.

Days and weeks had passed without a settlement until Seto swallowed his pride in favor of logic. He knew that being on the board still gave him plenty of control, especially in combination with being co-owner of the company itself. Much as he was (perhaps irrationally) humiliated at the prospect of losing the CEO's chair he'd fought tooth and nail to have, the opportunity to dedicate more time to his creative pursuits was too much to pass up.

With the details finally ironed out (in spite of some sore points on both sides), the only thing left to do was reveal their intentions to the public at large. It was a publicity stunt in itself, really, since both of them were celebrities in their own right, and this would drive fans of both parties wild. One thing he did appreciate about Stark was that he shared his love of making an impression. What was the point of a press release if they weren't going to get any fanfare?

Stark had invited their appointed board members, along with reporters from most major news outlets and personal guests of his own. Seto had, of course, extended the guest list to the top-ranking duelists from around the world. It only made sense from a presentation perspective, even if not a wholly pragmatic one.

"Seto?"

He looked up to see Mokuba peeking into the study. He'd managed to crack the door open so quietly that Seto hadn't noticed.

"What is it?" He asked in response, his tone direct as always, but a touch more gentle than it was when he spoke with anyone else.

"Big brother, can Yugi and Joey stay for a while longer and watch a movie with me?" Mokuba asked, eyes pleading. Seto released a quiet sigh of exasperation, his lips drawing into a firm line as he resisted being unduly rude towards his brother. The last thing he wanted was for those morons to stay in his home any longer than absolutely necessary. He'd already have to see them again that evening at the airport.

"Taylor and Gardner are leaving?" He asked, meeting Mokuba's eyes again. The question was more hopeful than anything.

"Yeah, they have to go home and finish packing."

"I won't insult your intelligence by asking if you've done all your packing," stated Seto, though they both knew that, intelligence aside, Mokuba was still young. He was liberated enough from the gravity of the trip that he might easily leave something important for the last minute. Thankfully, Mokuba nodded vigorously.

"Of course! Everything's packed and ready to be shipped."

"Fine, they can stay," Seto conceded reluctantly, "But keep them away from me. I have little enough graciousness to extend to them without enduring their constant pestering."

"Good to know that your work isn't making you crabbier than usual," Mokuba snickered, earning a disapproving frown in return, "Don't worry, no one will bother you."

Once Mokuba shut himself out of the room, Seto leaned back in his chair and sighed, then forced himself to his feet and closed his laptop. Honestly, he didn't know what was more trying on his nerves—the merger, or the infinite planning required to move all his worldly possessions across the Pacific.

Stark Tower was going to be their main base of operations now—a condition instituted by Seto. He had the KaibaLand park in Santa Monica, after all, and the KC US offices near that. Working with Stark was all the added reason he needed to leave Japan entirely. Kaiba Corporation would still do most of its business at the Japanese headquarters, but Seto knew well enough that he could run the place from overseas.

So now, he and Mokuba were moving to New York. It was almost surreal to think about, with the departure time only hours away. They'd be staying in a penthouse until they found housing—Seto hadn't had time to fly over to house hunt ahead of time. Luckily, they already had some choices lined up on the Upper East Side, but he wanted more time to observe and contemplate before making a decision.

Although Stark had offered him the opportunity to room in Stark Tower, Seto considered clawing his eyes out to be a better alternative than living in a building where Tony Stark spent most of his time. The downside to the whole moving situation was that Yugi and his goddamn entourage had to fly with him and Mokuba. Stark had made sure to invite the "King of Games" to the big reveal, much to Seto's dismay, and Mokuba had offered flying as a group without thinking about what his older brother's reaction might be.

He returned to his bedroom with his laptop packed safely into a briefcase, resigning himself to working via smartphone for the next few hours. He put away the last few things he intended to bring into small boxes and taped off the tops. All the heavy antique furniture was staying, of course, to be auctioned off for charity. Seto fully intended to leave Kaiba Mansion behind completely. He could choose his own furniture in New York rather than being stuck with Gozaburo's hand-me-downs.

Straightening up, he glanced around his bedroom. It was almost completely empty without his personal effects about, and the sound of his feet on the carpet echoed across the bare plaster walls. He had never seen the room so empty before—even on the day of his arrival, there had been tacky pseudo-Victorian clutter. The lack of anything but ornate oak furniture, plush carpet, and off-white walls made the room seem like a historical museum. Though in that context, he must be the exhibit.

It suddenly struck him that this would be the last time he would ever be in the room. It hadn't occurred to him in the midst of making travel plans. This room had been the closest thing he had to sanctuary since he was ten years old. As horrible as it was, this had been his home for most of his life. His nightmares had plagued him many a night in that four-poster bed, and his countless secrets may as well have been written in the walls. He recalled every sleepless night he'd spent half-dilerious from impotent sleeping medication, tormented by the lingering memories of Gozaburo's face and voice.

And now he was leaving. The fate of his God-awful quarters was to be torn down to build some upscale housing complex. He hardly regretted it—selling the property to a real estate company had been an act of sweet revenge against Gozaburo's memory. It hardly made up for his suffering, but he could soothe himself with the knowledge that the place where his worst years were spent would be ripped down to the foundations.

Seto glanced at his watch. The soonest they could reasonably leave for the airport was two hours from now. He had finished packing earlier than he had expected, which gave him a brief sense of satisfaction, but now he was left with virtually nothing to do until they departed. He could fetch his laptop, if he really wanted to, but that was just it. He didn't want to sit anxiously in the enormous, empty bedroom and attempt to work while he waited. He briefly played with the idea of going to join Mokuba, but then remembered that there were other people there.

He ended up retrieving his laptop after all, though he planned to use it for entertainment rather than work. He locked his bedroom door and tested the knob to ensure it was secure, and then sat on the stripped mattress with his back to the headboard. Thankfully, he used 4G internet. Otherwise, he would probably be stuck without internet, since wi-fi depended on a router and modem.

After loading his video hosting site of choice, Seto found the playlist he'd made containing a conglomerate of old film reels he'd found online. It was a risk keeping it around, really, considering how nosy Mokuba could be, but the grainy black-and-white shorts were important enough to him that he was willing to face the chance of mortification.

Captain America, the "Star Spangled Man", as they called him in the old commercials. Most of the reels were war bond propoganda that the Super Soldier had been part of in the early 1940's. Seto didn't spend very much time watching the videos, thankfully, but once in a while he felt the urge. More so than normal ever since a man sporting Captain America's title had appeared during the crisis in New York.

Seto almost hated himself for it, but Steve Rogers was one of his rare and unspoken crushes. He could only be grateful that the captain wasn't alive—knowing that he was as good as fictional made it easier for Seto to push thoughts of him out of his mind. Still, watching the cheesy commercials made him blush here and there. He felt the hair on his neck standing up when he noticed the captain's muscles flexing under the vibrant outfit, or when Rogers' deep blue eyes met the camera head-on.

He could hardly be blamed, could he? Steve Rogers was admirable at the very least, and Seto had known straight men to be impressed by his visage. It wasn't in the same way, of course…

He had done considerable research on the process of the now-lost serum that had made Captain America a super soldier to begin with. He wanted to think it was simply out of scientific interest, but he was an engineer—a physicist at times—not a biologist. No, he'd dug up all the public (and classified) information about Steve Rogers that he could out of fanatic obsession. It was a sensation he had trouble coming to terms with. He was used to being the admired icon, not the admirer.

Seto sat quietly, watching the movie and observing every detail despite knowing he had committed it all to memory by now. He had watched it so many times that he almost never winced at the sappy lines and songs.

"Let us follow the stars and colors of the red, white, and blue!"

He rolled his eyes. He knew enough English to understand that it didn't sound any better to native speakers than it did to him. Honestly, who ever wrote that should have been fired, even by the standards of that time. Judging by the look in his eyes, the poor Captain hated saying it as much as Seto hated hearing it. At least the "Star-Spangled Man with a Plan" had a ring to it, even if it was horribly American in its sugar-coated brainwashing.

Seto learned his head back as the video ended, his mind drifting to the news report that he had seen months ago. It had almost seemed like an elaborate prank, or a desperate lie used to cover up illicit government activities, but it was what it was. New York had been invaded by some kind of extra-terrestrial (or even outer dimensional) army. No one could have anticipated something like that. Plausible as it was that life existed on other planets, humanity didn't have the technology to master multiverse or space travel to the degree that their hostile visitors had. Comparatively, mankind was so outclassed that it was almost laughable.

Yet somehow, a group of no more than six people—extraordinary as they may have been—managed to fight off the impending invasion. Seto had heard many rumors and few facts about the team themselves. It was a fact that they were codenamed the "Avengers", which in itself told him they must be based in America. It was also a fact that Tony Stark, or Iron Man, was one of the members. Perhaps it was only Seto's respect for Stark's valiance that stopped him from spurning him completely.

Some claimed that one of the Avengers was a Norse God named Thor, but Seto didn't waste his time speculating about gods. He would believe the man was a very talented member of the X-Men before he bought into the idea of a god. That said, it was odd that "Thor" had managed to appear and disappear without a trace, leaving behind no records (even in the belly of government archives) except for a brief dossier gathered during his visit.

Bruce Banner was a far more credible case. The unfortunate victim of research gone wrong, he'd spent most of his life after the fact in hiding to avoid harming anyone around him. Someone in the government—or higher—was working very hard to keep him a secret for one reason or another, but Seto was resourceful, and no one was going to forget about the "Hulk" that had single-handedly taken down alien ships that dwarfed cruise liners. Seto had ventured to ask Stark if he knew anything about the good Doctor Banner, but he got nothing but snark in response, so he'd dropped the subject.

The least dramatic of the group were the assassin codenamed "Black Widow", and her partner "Hawkeye". Seto had dug hard to find anything on them, and even what he did dig up was obviously the tip of the iceberg. The two of them had one hell of a history, apparently, and most of it involved murder and espionage. The only thing that troubled him was that he couldn't find out what their alignment was, but considering what had happened in New York, it might not be a problem. Not yet.

Lastly—and most primary in Seto's interest—was the man who had dressed like (and claimed to be) Captain America. But that was impossible. News outlets and witnesses referred to the Avengers' leader as Captain America, but Steve Rogers had died when he crashed a plane in the Artic circle in the 1940's. Even if he had survived the crash, he'd be in his eighties, not a young looking man. That serum couldn't have given him eternal youth. Even if his body kept generating new cells, they wouldn't keep him from aging permenantly.

In short, there was almost no possibility that it was the real, original Captain America. Almost. Seto wanted to hope vaguely that it was actually him, but he quenched the feeling every time it arose. He at least attempted to be reasonable most of the time, and it was not reasonable to waste time and energy wishing for the impossible.

Seto stood up, checking his watch, and realized it was almost time to leave. He packed his laptop back into his briefcase with care, and glanced out the enormous window on the opposite side of the room. It was twilight now, and the fading sun was bathing everything in a particularly surreal kind of glow. He walked across the floor and stood in front of the glass, observing the sprawling property of Kaiba Mansion for the last time.

His eyes traveled over the green lawn—now blazing yellow in the sunset—and up the trunks of the old but well-kept trees that got progressively more clustered the further he looked from the house. The green tips of the branches were cast in sharp contrast between light and shadow due to the angle of the sun, and stretched into the fast-darkening sky. The higher he looked, the more orange and red faded into deep blue and almost black—dark enough that he could see a star clearly.

A fanciful (and immediately chided) part of him recalled early parts of his childhood, when he and Mokuba would jump at the chance to wish on stars or ask for luck at shrines. He was under no illusions, however. Wishes and luck were little more than fantasies constructed by people without the fortitude to depend on themselves. Seto had no need for such asinine ideas.

It probably wasn't even a star anymore. In all likelihood, it had already exploded; the light would take eons to fade from the view of earth. Other stars were visible now, thanks to the absence of the sun, but the first one was still the brightest. Seto found his attention stuck on it, despite his rationalizing, until Mokuba's voice startled him.

"Seto, are you in there?" He called from the other side of the bedroom door. Seto snapped the curtains shut and forced himself away from the window before walking toward the bed for his briefcase.

When he wordlessly opened the bedroom door, Mokuba gave him a small smile in greeting before walking toward the foyer. Seto followed him closely, his thoughts still drifting absently.

Damn it all. He honestly did wish—futilely—that the man who had fought in New York was actually Captain America. The original, not a replica developed by a government or Military or whoever was pulling the strings with the Avengers Initiative.

His face flushed slightly, and his chest tingled out of embarrassment. He was legitimately disappointed in himself, but he supposed that even he had to give in to fancy once in a while. Even if it was only for a second. It was probably for the best—with that out of the way, he managed to focus on the trip again. God knew Mokuba wouldn't be managing the details while he was distracted by the ceaseless chatter of Yugi and his fan club.

It was going to be a very long flight.