In Marvel with Doraemon’s gadgets

Ash Miller groggily opened his eyes, the sunlight creeping in through the curtains of his apartment. He blinked a few times, trying to shake off the remnants of sleep. The events of the previous night still buzzed in his mind—his first real night as a vigilante.

"Breakfast," he muttered to himself, rubbing his face as he shuffled into the kitchen.

He pulled out the gourmet tablecloth and casually tossed it onto the table. "Let's see… something good today," he said lazily, giving the command. In an instant, a full breakfast appeared—perfectly cooked eggs, pancakes stacked high with syrup, and fresh orange juice.

Ash sat down, digging in with a satisfied sigh. After a few bites, he glanced down at the sleek bracelet on his wrist, the only visible part of the high-tech suit that had been his ally the night before. Taking another sip of his juice, he called out, "Zoe, you there?"

"Yes, Ash. How can I assist you?" The AI's calm voice echoed through the room.

"Any news on what went down last night?" Ash asked, stabbing a forkful of pancake.

Zoe responded instantly. "Multiple media outlets have already reported on your activities. The footage of the ATM robbery has been widely circulated, and you have been given a moniker by the public—'The Midnight Vigilante.'"

Ash blinked, lowering his fork. "Wait, seriously? Already?" He hadn't expected his first night out to explode like this. Sure, he figured people would notice, but he didn't think he'd end up on the morning news so quickly.

"Yes, Ash," Zoe continued. "The footage shows you subduing the criminals with considerable ease, which has sparked a wide variety of discussions. You are trending across social media platforms."

"Great," Ash muttered, shaking his head. "Guess I didn't exactly stay under the radar."

He leaned back in his chair, pondering the implications. The city had its eyes on him now, and people were talking. That much he could handle. But something else tugged at the edges of his mind, something he had pushed aside the night before.

"Zoe, can you find some information on Jessica Jones, the private investigator working in Hell's Kitchen?" he asked.

Zoe processed the request in an instant. "Jessica Jones. Private detective. She began her career recently, and two years ago, she lost her father in a car accident. Currently, she is investigating Zebediah Killgrave."

The mention of that name made Ash freeze in place, his hand halfway to his glass of juice. "Killgrave?" he whispered, the color draining from his face. "Oh no… not him."

Ash's mind raced as he tried to wrap his head around it. Killgrave. The Purple Man. One of the most dangerous villains he could think of—someone who could control minds, bend people's will to his every command. The mere mention of his name sent a chill down Ash's spine.

"But why now?" Ash muttered to himself. "In the comics, Jessica only crossed paths with him after she became a superhero… but here, she's already a detective. What is she doing investigating him?"

Ash stood up, pacing around the room, the weight of the situation sinking in. "This is way too soon. If she's dealing with Killgrave already, she's in way more danger than she realizes."

He paused and turned to Zoe again. "Zoe, can you keep track of both Jessica and Killgrave? I need to know what's happening with them at all times."

Zoe's reply came quickly but carried a hint of limitation. "I'm afraid that level of surveillance is not possible, Ash. The technology currently available in this world does not allow for constant monitoring. The information I gathered came from police reports and some personal records Jessica has kept. I do not have the means to track their every move."

Ash frowned, running his fingers through his hair. "So we're flying blind on this?"

"Partially," Zoe confirmed. "There is limited data available on Killgrave at this time, and even less on his current activities."

Ash clenched his fist, his mind buzzing with frustration. He couldn't let Jessica fall into Killgrave's hands. In the comics, Killgrave had nearly broken her spirit, using his mind control to force her into terrible situations. He couldn't let that happen here.

His thoughts swirled as he tried to figure out a way forward. There had to be something he could do. Just as the idea of using one of his gadgets formed in his mind, as he put his hand in his pocket to take out the gadget but unfortunately before he could the scene suddenly shifted.

———————————

In a dimly lit office, the air was tense as Nick Fury, the director of S.H.I.E.L.D., leaned over his desk, staring intently at the screen before him. The video showed a masked figure—Ash—taking down the robbers with swift, precise movements.

Fury's one good eye narrowed as he watched. "This is going to be a problem," he muttered, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

Standing nearby was Agent Phil Coulson, his ever-reliable right-hand man. Fury turned to him, his expression unreadable. "Coulson, what's the deal with this guy? Is he one of ours? A mutant?"

Coulson shook his head. "We've got nothing on him, sir. No records, no history. He appeared out of nowhere last night and stopped a couple of small-time robberies. There's no indication he's got any personal connections to the criminals."

Fury leaned back in his chair, his brow furrowed in thought. "Another one of these masked heroes running around the city, doing whatever they want. We don't need more unknowns. Not now."

"I agree," Coulson said, glancing at the screen. "The media's already picked up on it. He's all over the news."

Fury sighed deeply, already sensing the headache this was going to cause. "Get Agent Romanoff on this. I want her to track this guy down, figure out who he is and what he wants."

"Understood, sir," Coulson nodded before turning to leave, already making a mental note to relay the orders.

Fury stared at the screen a moment longer, his mind working through the possibilities. Whoever this new player was, they had to figure him out fast.

——————————

Across the city, the buzz about the new vigilante had already taken hold. In a small café, a group of teenagers huddled around a table, their phones out as they scrolled through the latest news updates.

"Did you guys see that video of the vigilante last night?" one of the teens said, his face lighting up with excitement. "The dude took down three guys like it was nothing!"

"Yeah, I saw that," another chimed in. "His suit looked crazy! I bet he's got some serious tech. Maybe he's working for some secret government thing."

A third teen snorted, rolling his eyes. "Please, it's all fake. It's probably some viral marketing stunt or something. There's no way that's real."

The others looked at him like he'd just grown a second head.

"You really think that?" one of them asked, incredulous. "Man, get out of here with those conspiracy theories. That was legit!"

The conversation shifted as the teens continued to speculate, their excitement growing with every passing minute. In similar pockets across the city, the chatter was the same. People were talking about the Midnight Vigilante, and the city was already in a buzz.

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