The night was dark, and the wind cut sharp through the silence. In the depths of a hidden manor, the door to the master bedroom creaked open, and a figure swaggered inside.
The man wore a thick padded jacket on top but had on a pair of bright pink shorts that screamed deathly Barbie underneath. On his feet were shit-yellow Crocs. The look wasn't just ugly—it was creatively ugly.
But the most eye-catching thing was the oversized yellow dog mask covering his head, grinning with a stupid expression that seemed to mock the world.
The dog-headed man strode toward the desk, powered on the computer, and pulled a USB drive from his pocket. As soon as it was plugged in, a progress bar popped up on the screen.
While he waited, his phone buzzed in his pocket.
"Yo?"
"Darren, this is Nick Fury. What's your status?"
"I've infiltrated the target location. Currently retrieving the objective."
"You haven't been detected, have you?"
Darren was about to answer when the bathroom door clicked open. Out stepped a bearded man in a bathrobe, his face frozen in horror.
"Damn it! Who the hell are you? How did you get in here?! Guards! Gua—"
Bang!
A clean shot.
The dog-headed man calmly holstered his gun and spoke into the phone. "Relax. No one's gonna find out."
"…"
Nick Fury was silent for a few seconds, his voice dropping low. "Come back to HQ after the mission."
"Roger that!"
Darren hung up just as the progress bar reached its end. He yanked out the USB.
Then, a cold mechanical voice echoed in his mind:
[Daily mission "Steal Classified Intel" complete!]
[Rewards: EXP +500, S.H.I.E.L.D. reputation +10, C4 explosive ×1]
"Tch, what a garbage reward."
He glanced at the corpse on the floor, muttering to himself. "Still, this game's damn impressive. Look at that death feedback—it's almost too real. No way the devs didn't kill someone for reference."
In truth, he was inside a fully immersive virtual reality game called Marvel World.
By 2065, full-dive VR tech had long been perfected. Players could experience a world that felt nearly one hundred percent real.
Darren, a veteran gamer with over a million followers, had conquered countless games and earned a name in the global gaming community.
Two months ago, a company under the Marvel brand had contacted him, inviting him to test their latest "unprecedented open-world" title. The condition was simple: clear the game once, and he'd receive ten million dollars.
To be honest, Darren barely knew anything about Marvel.
After all, in his time, the franchise had gone through so many reboots that the original heroes were long forgotten.
The current "Iron Man" was the seventh generation—known as Iron Blackheart—a gender-fluid, alcoholic, obese, thrice-divorced Black single mother with five kids and a history of multiple transitions. She was married to the eighth-generation Captain America, a gay, vegetarian, eco-feminist Catholic with one-eighth Native American blood.
Together, they were the face of the most politically correct superhero era ever known to humankind.
And people still loved it.
Darren didn't.
Still, with that kind of payout, who could refuse?
He signed the contract without a second thought and climbed into the company's top-tier VR pod the same day.
Because honestly—
They paid way too damn much.
...
When the game began, the system offered several identity options: Hydra spy, S.H.I.E.L.D. agent, Stark Industries employee, Hell's Kitchen resident, and Midtown High student.
Darren picked one at random—and his journey began.
After two months of gameplay, he had to admit: the freedom in this game was insane.
No tutorials. No guidance. Every action and every story beat had to be discovered through pure exploration.
The weird part? After all this time, he still hadn't found a main quest.
If the system hadn't repeatedly assured him that one existed, he would've sworn he was stuck in some open-ended espionage simulator.
"Now that I think about it… there's no logout button either."
The system replied instantly:
[Apologies. A small technical issue occurred during game initialization, resulting in a bug. Repairs are currently underway.]
"I won't… get hurt or anything, right?" he asked, uneasily.
[Please rest assured, player. Your VR pod continuously monitors vital signs. Any abnormality will trigger an emergency wake-up protocol.]
[Additional note: The time ratio between game and reality is 362:1. The high-efficiency nutrient fluid and stasis technology will sustain your body for over ten years. There is no danger.]
[If you insist on exiting the game, you may do so—but you will permanently lose eligibility for the ten-million-dollar reward.]
[Would you like to exit the game?]
"Hell no!"
No way he was quitting before that payday.
Just then, he heard hurried footsteps outside—the bodyguards, alerted by the gunshot.
Darren shook off his doubts, pulled up the game map, and locked onto a coordinate labeled "S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters."
Click. Teleport.
When the guards burst into the room, they found only a corpse—and a beeping C4 bomb.
"Holy sh—"
Boom!!
...
S.H.I.E.L.D. Headquarters, Director's Office.
Nick Fury sat behind his wide desk, reviewing a thick stack of documents.
"Budget transfer report for S.H.I.E.L.D.…?"
A voice suddenly came from above his shoulder.
Fury froze, looking up—only to see that same ridiculous yellow dog head leaning over his paperwork.
"Sup."
"Motherfu—!"
Fury almost jumped out of his chair. Then, realizing who it was, he scowled. "Darren! How many times do I have to tell you—dress like a normal human being in HQ!"
Darren crossed his arms. "What? This look is cool! It's even got stat bonuses."
Fury's eye twitched. Did this guy leave his sense of taste in the womb?
Before he could explode, Darren pointed at the papers.
"By the way, Chief, these numbers don't look right. There're several large expenses with no source listed. Someone embezzling funds, maybe?"
"Cough—cough!" Fury snatched the file, shoved it in a drawer, and straightened his expression. "That's classified. Not something a Level 5 agent needs to worry about."
"Oh."
Fury cleared his throat, forcing the topic away. "Anyway, I have a new mission for you."
He opened another drawer and slid a dossier across the desk.
On the cover was a smug-looking man with a goatee. Beneath the photo:
Tony Stark – CEO, Stark Industries.
"Three months ago, Stark was ambushed in the Middle East by unknown militants. His status is still unconfirmed. I need you to find him—and bring him back alive."
As Fury finished speaking, the system voice chimed in again:
[NPC Nick Fury has issued a new quest]
[Quest: The Birth of Iron Man]
[Objective: Locate Tony Stark in the Middle East and return him safely]
[Main storyline unlocked! Complete the quest for substantial rewards!]
A main quest!
Darren's eyes lit up with excitement.
Finally! After all this time!
"Iron Man, huh? Sounds like a superhero name. Maybe he's one of the big ones?" he mused aloud.
He didn't know much about Marvel, but he knew it revolved around superheroes. Yet so far, he hadn't met a single one.
Except maybe Fury. He definitely had the vibe.
So what was his superhero alias?
Cyclops?
Captain Motherf—?
"Darren! Are you even listening to me?!"
Fury's blood pressure visibly spiked.
Darren blinked. "Sorry, what was that, sir?"
"I said—" Fury sighed, rubbing his temples. "Forget it. Just… skip the damn cutscene."
...