Waking up in an artificial world had always been, and would always be, weird. First of all, in a lot of the NerveGear games you were to adjust to the graphics, because sometimes they weren't even near realityseeking, even if the technology had been made.
This time, it was just like being awake, except he was standing in an endless white. Clint was shooting his, extremly realistic, hands an impressed look, before the robotic female voice runged through the infinity room he had been placed in.
"Welcome to 'Marvel'. State your charactername in the box below. Please refrain from going against the regulations."
A pop-up-box appeared before him and he wrote in it with his fingers, since no keyboard came forward. 'Clinton Francis Barton' he wrote, as usual just using his own name, since that made it easier for friends to find him.
"Thank you! To continue this user guide, open your menu. It is opened by conscius thoughts."
This wasn't anything new to the seasoned gamer, who had owned a NerveGear since childhood.
The menu was actually a bit impressive, all sleek design and transparent background.
"Next step is learning about your character. To do that, choose Character Screen by pressing the button C in the menu."
As soon as he pressed it a lot of seperate information in the form of holograms came forward. The one closest to him were a biography, which he was quickly done with. Apparently his character came from an abusive home, before joining a circus and now running around as a mercenary? Right.
He was kind of disappointed about having no superpowers though, even if it seemed he was an unusual specimen still, according to his stats, which were the next window.
'Stats/Power Grid*:
Intelligence: 3
Strength: 2
Speed: 2
Durability: 2
Energy Projection: 1
Fightingskills: 6
Other stats to be aware of:
Eyesight: 7
These are based on the seven step -scale.
Conclusion: Powerlevel 4**'
Clint was happy about his stats. If the manual coming with the game was right, he was near superhuman as a powerlevel 4.
Another one was about his gear. Because the fourty five year old had bought a special edition, he had come with at lot of upgraded gear and five weapons instead of the standard three.
His gear was mainly black with a mix of purple and had some cool accessories, who was mostly just to pimp up his clothes.
His main weapon was the compundbow, who he had two different exemplaries of. One was a 250 pounds compoundbow***, and the other was a 200 pounds, but of lighter weight.
He had also gotten four strapknifes with a belt, a sniper rifle in a design he couldn't recgonise, another knife with a legholster and a set of very thin knifes to put in the custom boots he had gotten.
Aside from apparel and weapons he found a first add kit and 2000 dollars in his inventory.
He chose to use all the apparel he had gotten, along with all his weapmons, the exception being the 250 pounds compoundbow, which he left in the inventory too.
The next hologram were settings, which he didn't feel like changing, since he had always used standard and this wasn't any different, he realised after a look on the display before him.
The next were a basic through of guilds and other functions and features that could become helpful.
It was quickly done, especially since Clint had already read all this.
And now? Now he was ready for his through Marvel's Earth 22-1****.
'Do you want to go to the game?
Yes | No'
He pressed 'Yes'.
…
The world was changing around him; colours, noise and smells, everything was changing. The room he was standing in bye the end of it was simply a dump.
Everything looked trashed or old enough to break if you used it. Was this where he lived? He hoped not, but it was something he could believe, being a mercenary and all.
Still, it wasn't exactly a pleasant place.
A window popped up with a whole biography written on it, if you asked the not so school-smart Clint. Clint had been an highschool drop-out. Ironically he was in this world too. However that didn't mean he was dumb or anything, just got easily bored and were more of a 'do and learn' -guy than a 'watch and learn' -guy.
"This your stay for the night. The motel is called Timothy's, it's in Las Vegas and it's actually one of the nicer places you have slept through the last couple of years. You will be gone by morning without a trace of you ever being there. But before you can pull you disappearing act, there is a job to be done. To get started, find your payer. The name he goes by is Anton Bobs, and you should find him at Flamingo Las Vegas Casino*****, ten streets east of you." Clint shrugged. Seemed like he was going to be killing and working for NPCs for some time.
He looked down himself, before checking the closet and finding nothing. He couldn't very well be running around in this get-up, unless he was a very obvious super, be they bad or good.
After searching fruitlessly, he decided to just steal from another NPC. There had to be a goddamn lawyer or businessman or something that owned a dressjacket in this seedy motel, right?
…
There was, Clint thought to himself, walking out of Timothy's in a nice, very expensive looking suit.
He could get used to being the guy, who didn't live by any rules.
Finding the payer, or really just the casino, was harder than imagined, because in this world people would have to buy a map, not have one in the menu.
He ended up asking this nice, but kind of too much, old lady in exchange for helping her over the busy streetroad of Las Vegas. Her name, displayed above her head, said Tora McDonald.
"Oh dear, I have lived here all my life and Flamingo is not a place a young, nice-looking man such as yourself want to visit. It's all grandeur on the outside, but on the inside it's thiefs the lot of them. ("I insist.") Okay, my dear, just turn left at the end of the street, follow the road 'till you reach the crossroad and when go left again. It's on that street, you can't miss it."
"Thank you," he said and when fled the scene, this lady was either a very old player or a very realistic NPC.
As he followed her directions he kind of realized she was probably a NPC, because by the looks of it, everyone here were just incredibly real acting.
…
Flamingo Las Vegas Casino was a luxurious place to walk into. Everywhere you looked everything had been spraypainted in gold or made as grand-looking as possible.
It was actually kind of scary, if Clint was honest with himself.
Finding John was easier than expected. He hadn't taken too steps, before he was suddenly hauled along by four bulky men. He didn't struggle, even if he could probably take them down right there. It didn't however seem smart to make a scene and the both of his bows was in his inventory, and a weapon might cause some distress for other players of NPCs.
When they finally stopped pulling him along, he was standing in a private room. He could still hear the buzz of people from the casino behind him, from the door that was just closed.
In front of him were a pompous guy wearing a tux and a pair og polished dress-shoes.
"Anton Bobs I presume?" He asked drily.
"You are right in your assumptions, little mercenary." His voice was smooth and charming, if not for the the threatening tone it took on. "However, you're not here for making pleasantries, but because of the job."
He pulled a file out of his jacketpocket and gave it to Clint, who marveled over how real it felt in his hands.
Flipping through it there was a timetable of the victim's rutines, pictures of the unfortunate guy and a heft amount of cash.
"Is it all there?" Clint asked.
"Yes, archer, all of the 500.000 thousand is in there," came the immediate answer. Clint's eyes nearly bulged, this job was unexpectledy wellpaid.
He transferred the money to his inventory.
"I hope you are as good as they say, little guy," he threatened, but Clint upheld his mask of indifference and proffesionanilty. "This is an important kill and I won't have you screwing it up."
Clint nodded and hurried out of there, taking the clear dismissal tone as his cue to leave.
Smoothing out his wrinkled suit, he realized he had gotten his first real kill-mission and he certainly wasn't going to 'screw it up'.
Notes:
*The powergrid actually exists and was S.H.I.E.L.D.s way of classifying people.
**Powerlevels is another real thing that S.H.I.E.L.D. did.
***It's actually in one of Hawkeye's comics (I think, it could have been a cartoon too) that he uses a 250 pounds compundbow. In this story the villain couldn't fire Clint's bow, because he was too weak.
****Earth 22-1 is my own imagination. I took the idea from the classic DC and Marvel thing where they call alternate universes 'Earth' and then a series of numbers.
*****I stole this name, but I'm making up the rest of it.
