I do not own either Read Dead Redemption nor My Hero Academia. I would say something witty yet alas I used up my arsenal in other story disclaimers. :(

Tarnish Silver

Chapter Four

(Outside the Simulation)

Heroism was associated with fighting criminals/villains. This was an undisputable fact. The flash, the drama, the sense of "righteousness has been served!" Given how public villain fights typically were it wasn't all that surprising that if anyone considered becoming a Professional Hero they would largely be expecting to fight villains or criminals, a distinction often overlooked as time marched on and fresher blood with dreams of glory and stardom clouding both their eyes and minds for years to come.

Regardless of what could be argued as semantics the other sides of Professional Heroism, be it out of a sense of pride or seeking aide, often have to make an effort toward being remembered, never mind known to begin with. It was largely considered a good day if Rescue, Civic and Investigation orientated professionals could simply settle the matter with the occasional school visit to raise awareness that unusual quirks not suited for fighting could help others with less conventional means. That or somehow catch the attention of some journalist in need of some material for their perceived deadline. Some overzealous (or stubborn) types even went with social media routes and fought the good fight with trolls. It was either all that (so to speak) or, arguably worse, a fundraiser; fundraisers, as the name should obviously suggest, were about raising funds for a certain subject such as to continue the existence of a certain building, to help protect wildlife, aid a certain person because of extenuating reasons such as illness or tragedy and so on and so forth. As such its rather frowned upon to attempt to advertise oneself at such an event. But there was nothing against simply being seen and, if luck would have it, strike up a conversation with a curious soul. In the end though it was not exactly a great place for the more egotistical heroes.

... that and depending on the fundraiser there stood a very hefty chance of meeting some... undesirable people who are often too high an opinion of themselves, their families, their supposed standing in society... Yeah... fundraisers weren't for everybody who didn't want to grind their teeth to dust if they wanted to genuinely help said fundraiser while maintaining a good image.

Still, anyone would take a fundraiser over a tragedy. Tragedies which would outright force people to acknowledge that not every professional hero could punch, smash, subdue or simply utilize a flashy quirk their way to a resolution. It was situations like these that would bring out the more unusual heroes who most people would typically never have reason to know. Such is the case for the Digital Hero: Codex.

When word of Akihiko Industries' situation hit the Hero Net it was obvious what sort of hero they needed on the scene. Anyone with a degree resembling in computer science was being dredged up, few of them there were in total though; few Heroes pursue an education after graduating a Hero school, let alone for software. Then there were quirks much like Codex's that allowed him to interact with it in a more... familiar manner than most others. Combine the two and situations like these should be a cakewalk, finished up in a day at worst and with everybody happy that no one got hurt (barring the particularly vindictive of course).

But no. The confirmed brain deaths of some of the hostages had long since heralded what sort of nightmare he was walking into. Effectively interacting with the AI 'Directors' as the company software engineers called them only confirmed it. At the very least it helped readily identify the source of this particular brand of madness, much to his chagrin borne of the days of his own youth—violent videogames. Oh he could hear the moral guardians now, his own parents included. Ugh...

More specifically however the plan for the tests boiled down to one AI director per game. Each to observe, challenge and marginally guide the player/tester as per their own interactions within the game itself should some problem occur. That in itself wasn't a bad thing on paper. What made it bad were two particular factors—

Factor One: somewhere along the line some of the directors became self aware enough to understand their situation. A good number seemed fairly content with it, particularly of those belonging to adventure, crafting and management games. Peaceful games in general. Some, particularly those belonging to gorefests of the "murder them all!" and "run and hide!" varieties, became so overly aggressive that they jumped at the chance to potentially torture players for the mere crime of existence... and that was before someone tried to delete one of them which in turn had them retaliate even worse than before.

Factor Two: someone thought it would be a good idea as to establish a network between all the directors with the overall purpose of cross referencing with one another to provide challenges and solutions as need be. Fine on paper. That is until the more psychotic AI began to assault the others thanks to this network, corrupting, crippling or actively attacking AI that do not bend to their malicious counterparts' will.

Thankfully some of the directors were made of sterner stuff than the others—those whose players could be aborted had been aborted. All the remained however were those whose AI were mauled and thus not operating at full capacity... and those with the actively hostile AI.

Smart money would be to sever the network and effectively get those who would be out of danger out at a later time—though their bodies were virtual, the DIVE chairs were advanced enough that things like knives and bullets in game hurt like the real thing according to the ones who made the system. Ergo his priority was to save those within the hostile AI's clutches lest they end up brain dead like two of the testers so far from the shock of it all.

... with or without help his work cut out for him that was for sure. It was going to be a long week.

XVX

(Inside the simulation)

Sleeping was... odd for Izuku, for several reasons. One reason would be that when the test started it was roughly ten in the morning. It was about one in the afternoon now... in the real world; game based time moved far faster and the non-quest related npcs had went to bed some time after the sun disappeared in the horizon. As such he wasn't 'tired' enough to try to actually sleep.

Another reason was that, laying there on one of the only available cots, he couldn't help but note the sounds of snoring, of the crickets, of wild animals' calls in the distance. Even the crackle of the ever burning set of camp fires. There was even a conversation between Dutch and Arthur in the distance but the teenager was too far away to make out the details. Even so it was... all so realistic that he was once again marveling at the artificial world.

Yet another was the fact that in his mind he was still screaming from the moment he learned he was the victim of an unforeseen situation. That, and at the same time, trying to convince himself one way or another into simply staying here and do chores for the foreseeable future or else continue the game to its natural conclusion so to speak. In other words his mind was too active for him to try to sleep it off...

... with a defeated groan he got up and anxiously made his way to the only npc he actually needed to speak to. As much as he wanted to wait it out there was no telling if or when he would be freed. His mother could be hovering over him, crying and trying to wake him at this moment right now and he wouldn't be the slightest bit aware if the lack of... 'other worldly' sensations was an indicator—unless the employees of Akihiko Industries simply decided to leave him be he would've like to think they would've at least tried to shake him into consciousness by now, hence his suspicion he couldn't feel anything in the real world unlike the virtual one right now. That was motivation enough to at least make a concerted effort.

As such with little in the way of interruptions Izuku quickly found himself near what he could only presume to be the wagon loaded designated as their chuck wagon which was made all the more evident by the cooking table out front, various cooking utensils in equally various states of use on display as well as a number of foodstuffs either in near completion of preparedness or likewise in the process of being prepared by what could be assumed to be early 20th century standards. Late 19th for those of a particularly granular bent. Regardless of specifics Izuku marched to the one man manning it all without any hint of the fatigue he noticed the other npcs were somewhat afflicted much like their real world counterparts, 'Pearson' the teenager believed he was named, their resident chef. As he neared the man perked up from the plucked poultry he was gutting.

"Ah, Mister Midoriya I presume?" the husky, balding man in a green sweater inquired as his hands continued to work on the chicken without guidance. At Izuku's nod the man continued himself. "Pearson," he introduced himself. "I'd offer to shake your hand but," he slightly chuckled as he dipped his head to his work. "So what can I do for you?"

Izuku tried not to swallow before taking a deep breath. "Mister Matthews said to speak with you to help along with the camp?"

"Ah. Of course," the man half muttered a bit distractedly as he pulled out the last of his endeavors. He then reached over to wipe his hands on a rag. "Normally I'm content to work alone or have the help the help of the womenfolk but another pair of hands is always welcome." He then gestured for Izuku to come over. As he did Pearson asked him a question. "So tell me, Mister Midoriya, have you any experience in cooking?"

"Some," he admitted. "Sometimes my mother would be too busy or too stressed to try. So I learned to cook to help her out."

The man hummed in approval. "Good man. Shame to have not meet you because you starved to death," he offered as a joke to which Izuku hesitantly chuckled to. Afterwards the man point to a pile of uncooked meat. "You see that stack right there? That would be the rations I'm trying to prepare for the journey. I'd rather they be made into jerky but we have plenty of that already and I'm hoping to quell the complaints for a time by giving them something to really sink their teeth into. Do me a favor and take them to that grill over there by the camp fire. In fact grab some of the herbs on the table behind you. That should help give them a little flavor in the cooking—it would definitely help quiet the complaints."

Curious, the teenager looked past his shoulder and at the table where a handful of jars labeled 'oregano', 'thyme' and 'sage' amongst others rested. "Any in particular?" he asked.

"No. Any of them should do. But if you want take a few cuts to experiment with some of them," the man suggested. "Just be sure to not go overboard or get greedy. Otherwise I won't mind volunteering your services to Charles in getting more provisions for us."

"R-right!" He wasn't sure in the slightest as to what that really spelled for him should it happen but he knew from experience that few punishments were ever enjoyable.

And so away he went with meat and herbs in hand.

At a nearby campfire stood what Izuku could hazard to guess was a grill. Maybe the 19th century equivalent of a hotplate though both would probably be accurate. Either way it was a small metal stand no more grand than a metal pole with a metal plate attached to it which hovered over the fire. Already prompts are being uploaded into his view as to what to do, which was basically to place the meat onto the plate and let it cook on its own or otherwise rub the herbs in and do the previously mentioned task. 'To cook faster take your knife and press it onto meal onto the grill to speed up the process!"

A quick check of his inventory revealed nothing. He then began to feel his own person on a hunch and indeed found a knife on his person much to his disturbance—"Since when did I have this?!"

"What was that, Mister Midoriya?"

"N-nothing! Was just surprised by something!"

Regardless he began to 'speed up the process', an act which his little chef began to cry over at the inelegance of it all. Soon enough he was tasting his creations as it were...

The meat, while surprising in that he could taste it, wasn't anything to write home about. Not quite low grade nor mid grade but certainly not something he would set out to get himself unless there was a sale on. The ones with the herbs helped. Not to mention the helpful descriptors that came upon consuming the herb treated slices to explain how they helped with his health, stamina and apparent dead eye ability. Other than a brief explanation that it helped with his vision/aim he had yet learn how to actually use it, never mind understand what it was.

Either way it helped killed time and helped serve the mission, both within and without he supposed. He partially didn't notice it but it wasn't until dawn was rapidly approaching after placing the sixth piece on the grill that he noticed time was moving faster. The morning sun was fully upon him when the eight slice was being cooked not even two seconds after the seventh was grilled, also barely five seconds all in all with the speed option.

"Mister Midoriya! Once your done would you mind helping me with the pot to get breakfast served?"

"Y-yes sir!"

Once the last of the slices had been cooked her shuffled back to the chuck wagon and deposited them onto a table at the suggestion of a prompt he turned to the cook only to find him hefting a pot and waddling his way to a separate campfire where a spit-style stand awaited him. "S-sir, what do you need me to do?"

"Grab the bowls and silverware for me and place them on the nearby table please!" Mister Pearson grunted.

A simple enough task. "Okay!"

Having not really counted heads in the camp as of yet Izuku settled for the simple decision of bringing all the sundry items needed to devour a meal. An act which seemed to amuse Pearson once he got a look over at Izuku as he placed no less than two stacks of metal bowls on the nearby table in the company of almost all the spoons. "Gotten yourself a little carried away there haven't you?"

"Ah! Sorry!" Izuku instantly apologized as he rubbed the back of his head in embarrassment. "I-I just don't really know how many are here yet?"

"It's fine!" the man waved him off. "Grab yourself a dish and help yourself while the food is hot."

"Ah, shouldn't we wait till everyone is here first?"

"If it were some formal event then perhaps. But we basically live by the most classic of all rules in this camp. First come, first served!" the man replied with good natured mirth. After some hesitation on Izuku's he complied and grabbed a bowl and spoon for himself. "Enjoy!"

... the stew wasn't that good as he found out when he sat himself on a more isolated table farther away so as to not bother or be bothered by anyone. It was not great and certainly not terrible. But like the meat he would wait for a sale before pouncing on it. It did give him a gold health core though and a prompt explaining what gold cores meant in most cases. He just sincerely wished that killing wasn't a requirement to apparently fill up the Dead Eye meter though. Nice to know he could eat, sleep or drink to make the core refilled though.

... try as he might to otherwise not think it but he actually began to wonder what alcohol would taste like in this game.

"Excuse me, Mister Midoriya?"

Were it not a feminine voice he grew fairly familiar with in the past few hours the teenager would've thought it was Pearson again. Even so it drew a curious enough glance at his objectives as his body stiffened in surprise. There were none. Evidently he ended the latest mission without any fanfare by partaking in this meal and there was once again a stylized H on the minimap. With that settled Izuku looked to Anna—Elizabeth? He wasn't sure how to address her at the moment.

"Ah! H-hello!" he chirped, his body rigid at being put on the spot. Still she gently smiled at him in an apologetic fashion.

"May I sit with you?"

He worked his jaw, unsure of what to say before mechanically dipping his head in a 'yes', gargling something that a scientist might latter discern as a 'sure!'... if he had help with the most advance sound based equipment available. Or maybe a hearing quirk. They were typically good at that type of investigation. Either even he could swear he could hear the creaky hinges of his own neck squeal out in protest of the action.

"Thank you," she offered almost under her breath as she sat at his table on a spare crate for a chair. He idly noted she lacked a bowl, making him wonder if she was going to skip breakfast. On a separate note she had a somewhat familiar look on her of someone who wanted to say something but was very uncomfortable with the topic...

"I'm... sorry, about earlier," she spoke up sooner than he expected of her based on personal experience. "I was hoping to simply leave town as quietly as possible. I didn't mean to get you involved nor..." She tried not to grimace. The same could be said at glancing about the camp. She was only mildly successful in both. All he could offer was a friendly smile (or so he hoped given his usual nervous disposition) and a laugh that matched it.

"At least they're friendly?"

"Out of my way, dipshits! Real men get to eat first unlike some pig fuckers like you two," a sadly already familiar voice barked. They both jerked their heads in the direction of the voice, to the line at the stew pot where Mica Bell shoved his way in front of the line of two men that Izuku hadn't met yet. Men rough and scraggily like Micah but taller and arguably more unkempt than him.

"Hey! Watch it!"

"Fuck you!"

... Izuku's only defense was a strained smile and a laugh as the fight was broken up by Arthur storming up to them and reluctantly prying Micah away. Upon later looking back in retrospect it would look like he wasn't trying all that hard seeing as the pair of men managed to land a fair amount of punches in before Micah was chucked away. "I-it's alright. I'm..."

His words caught in his throat as repressed thoughts surged. His moment of hesitancy in turn brought a concerned frown to the young woman's lips. She looked like she wanted to say something but thought better of it before a small, gentle smile graced her lips as she reached out and grasped his free hand and giving it a soft squeeze. She then tried, and failed, to squelch a giggle from burbling from her lips at his face reddening from the contact, his body going stiff at her touch as his mind raced a mile a minute to process the fact a woman who was most definitely not his mother was touching him in a caring manner—the fact she was an npc not registering at all during this.

"Still, I'm sorry," she admitted. She then looked more remorseful. "I... just couldn't take living there any more. Especially under... his shadow as some things became more and more apparent in time."

Izuku managed to fight his flustered state to a more bearable form he nodded and offered her a small smile in return.

Taking this as her cue that the conversation had ended she began to get up. "Ah, wait!" Startled, she paused and looked over to him in mild bewilderment as he struggled to voice a question...

"Ah, if you don't mind me asking you, what do you prefer me to call you as...?" he all but croaked out as he shifted in his seat.

She in turn blinked in unspoken astonishment before she abruptly giggled. Soon enough she was gently smiling at him once more. "Seeing as I am divorcing myself from Columbia, Annabelle DeWitt will be my name forever more if it can be helped."

"R-right, Miss DeWitt!"

She giggled again, softer than before as she stepped around the table and leaned in. "You, however, are free to call me Annabelle." She then leaned in and placed a kiss on her cheek before departing. As she walked away she looked over her shoulder and again giggled at his place as he was once again red faced, stiff as a board and now fully insensate of the world. To add to this a bird landed atop of his hat and began to rest there without him being the wiser to it.

The same could be said when the men from earlier decided to invade Izuku's table after she had lost sight of it. They didn't say a word nor did much more than glance at his direction until they eventually cottoned onto the fact that Izuku was utterly ignorant of their presence. It made their remorseless act of stealing the contents of his half eaten meal all the easier once they were done with their own respective breakfast and their languid escape all the more seamless.

XVX

"Ah. Back for more work?" Hosea chuckled with a grandfatherly smile as looked up from a crate he was ensuring was hammered down tight. Next to him was a wagon where a man of Hispanic descent was tying down a set of boxes at the end of the wagon.

"Y-yes sir!"

"That's the spirit!" the man said as he grabbed the box and grunted as he lifted it up. "Help me with this, will you? It's about time to set out. Sooner the get going the less likely we'll be caught up in some... unwanted business."

Soon enough the task was made clear. Without really being bid to Izuku ended up stocking crate after crate, the occasional set of pole, bed rolls and other items belonging to the outlaws' camp onto several of the wagons they had. In doing so he began to place names to faces, gain a rough idea as to their personalities both for both good or ill.

"Everything going well young man?"

His head snapped up and he found Hosea Matthews standing over him as the teenager was about to load the last of the camp's materials onto the cart. Incidentally the same one he started with before shuffling off to the others and inadvertently learning Arthur's cart was where he was to get (free) ammo, provided the camp resupplied itself with it according to the man himself; the chuck wagon was where he could gather (free) food for himself, again if the camp was supplied with it and the apparently daily stew was not available; Mister Strauss' cart was where the camp's medical supplies were stored. How or when they were resupplied hasn't been revealed to him yet.

"Ah, yes sir!"

"Ah, call me Hosea," he affably grunted as he bent down and helped the teenager load the last chair onto the wagon. "Say, would you happen to know how to drive a wagon?"

"Ah, no sir—Hosea?"

The man chuckled behind closed lips and patted his arm. "Given we're about to head out I think this is as good a time as any to give you some of the basics. Come, ride with me, will you?"

The boy nodded a bit nervously as he followed the elderly man around the wagon and onto the official seat of which where horses stood at the ready at the front of the wagon, hitched up and their reins left on a little hook where the foot rest was.

"Oh? Replacing me with the new blood already? Hosea, my friend, you're breaking my heart!" Javier, the man from earlier, laughed as he got settled into a little niche amongst the boxes and crates in the wagon. In response the elderly man rolled his eyes in the company of a smile before taking the reins and turning his head to Izuku. In the meantime everyone else in the camp began to board wagons or, in some cases, get onto horses in preparation for the ride ahead.

"Now, young man, be sure to pay attention as I teach you. But above all don't be afraid—horses can sense this sort of thing and it in turn makes them nervous. The last thing you want is a horse nervous ride under you seeing as the best case scenario for you is holding on tight as the horse decides it rather be anywhere else than here, and that can get pretty disastrous when you're on a wagon. You understand?"

"Y-yes!"

"Good." With a smile he handed the reins over to Izuku. "Now go ahead and take these reins, just like so..."

And so began his lessons with cart steering.

It started off slow at first, almost haltingly so in the initial leg of the journey. To the teenager's utter relief Hosea had them practice in the field as the wagon train began to pull out of the now abandoned camp which in turn became a lesson on accelerating and slowing down a horse driven wagon. Even so it as they were pulling away and eventually leaving their forest cover in favor of more open plains specked with shrubbery and the occasional tree that Izuku began to drive with any confidence.

It was also then that he began to... experience... a more out of body experience, almost literally in fact the 'camera' that was his point of view pulled away from his body to eventually encapsulated the entire procession as they crossed roads, forded rivers and climbed mountains as time went on. Thankfully Izuku's initial panic when it happened subsided after realizing that nothing he did or say (besides "pause") affected the newly dubbed 'cutscene' in any way. It was weird however to see his own body moving on its own accord, apparently laughing at jokes half heard as if mumbled from far away, him spending times of silence with various activities like dominos during the 'breaks' in the journey, or just him admiring the scenery.

... if the teenager was honest he still found it disconcerting... but smiled all the while as he couldn't help but imagine himself actually doing all this (if he could ever gather the courage to begin with his mind quietly admonishes).

Eventually it all came to an end as they passed through a swamp and roamed some plains to the safety of the towering pines. It was then that control returned to Izuku where he helped set the camp back up. In the midst of this all Izuku couldn't help but notice that Dutch, rather than help with pitching the tents, was off to the side where the closest edge of the forest sat in relation to the admittedly cramped clearing they decided to roost in. In his hands were a pair of binoculars which he held to his face to stare off in the direction of a body of water that could be partially seen from the distance. And the barest hints of a town if Izuku squinted hard enough.

Next to him was Micah who, upon looking back, had disappeared from view for a time. Whether he was simply out of the lens of the 'camera' or had allegedly gone scouting ahead of time like Arthur or Charles had off handedly mentioned in passing while offloading the wagons the teenager couldn't say. But for whatever reason he couldn't help but... notice how close Micah was to Dutch to literally begin whispering in his ear as he looked on from his binoculars.