The wind howled across the lonely hilltop estate like it had a personal grudge. Inside the master bedroom, the door eased open with a theatrical creak. In strolled a man who looked like he'd lost a bet with a thrift-store dumpster.
He wore a quilted jacket so thick and garishly patterned it could probably stop small-arms fire, neon-pink board shorts that hurt to look at directly, and a pair of toxic-yellow Crocs that squeaked with every step. Topping it all off was an oversized plastic mask: a grinning golden retriever head that radiated pure, unfiltered chaos.
The Dog-Headed Man didn't bother checking corners. He marched straight to the desk, woke the computer, pulled a USB drive from the depths of his jacket, and jammed it in. A progress bar popped up like it had been waiting for him.
His phone buzzed.
"Yo."
"Daniel, it's Nick Fury. Sitrep."
"Infiltrated the target mansion. Downloading the package now."
"You weren't seen, right?"
Before Daniel could answer, the bathroom door swung open. A bearded guy in a silk bathrobe stepped out, toothbrush still in mouth, and froze.
"Who the hell are you?! How did you—Guards! Guard—"
Bang.
One suppressed round later, the guy was doing an impromptu floor nap. The Dog-Headed Man holstered the pistol like he was putting away groceries.
"False alarm. Situation contained," he said into the phone.
Silence on the line. Then, very quietly:
"…Return to base when you're done."
"Roger roger."
Call ended. The progress bar hit 100%. Daniel yanked the drive free.
A cold, robotic voice rang inside his skull:
[Daily Quest Complete: "Steal Classified Intelligence"]
[Rewards: 500 EXP | S.H.I.E.L.D. Favor +10 | C4 Explosive ×1]
Daniel clicked his tongue. "Another pack of C4. Wow. Groundbreaking."
He glanced at the fresh corpse. "These death animations are nuts though. Like, disturbingly good. Did the devs hire a coroner as a consultant or what?"
Because of course this was all a game.
A full-dive VR masterpiece titled Marvel World, released 2065—back when full sensory immersion was as common as smartphones. Daniel was a pro gamer with a million subs and a reputation for clearing anything with a difficulty setting. Two months ago, some Marvel subsidiary paid him an obscene amount of money to beta-test their new flagship title: "the most free open-world superhero experience ever created," complete with a ten-million-dollar bonus if he beat it in one continuous session.
He didn't care about Marvel. In his time, the IP had been rebooted so many times the heroes were basically diversity bingo cards with trauma. Current Iron Man? A 400-pound single mom who identified as male on Tuesdays, non-binary on Thursdays, and a helicopter on weekends. Captain America? A gay vegan Catholic with a passion for land acknowledgments and pronoun circles. They spent half their screen time yelling "Found family!" while sobbing.
Daniel had zero attachment. He just saw dollar signs and signed.
Character selection was simple:
Hydra InfiltratorS.H.I.E.L.D. AgentStark Industries InternHell's Kitchen NobodyMidtown High Student
He clicked randomly and woke up in-world wearing the dog mask he still hadn't taken off.
Two months later, the freedom was insane. Zero hand-holding. No tutorial. No glowing "Main Quest Here" arrow. Just a pop-up every week insisting the main storyline existed somewhere.
Also… there was no logout button.
The system had apologized:
[Minor startup glitch detected. Logout temporarily unavailable. Repair in progress.]
[Your pod monitors vitals 24/7. Time dilation: 362:1. Nutrient supply sufficient for 10+ years.]
[You may force-quit at any time, but you will forfeit the $10,000,000 one-sitting bonus.]
[Exit now? Y/N]
Daniel had smashed N so hard he nearly cracked the neural interface.
Right now, boots were thundering in the hallway—guards finally reacting to the gunshot.
Daniel opened his menu, scrolled to the S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ fast-travel point, and clicked.
Teleport.
The guards kicked in the door to find one dead rich guy and a blinking red brick of C4 counting down from ten.
"HOLY SHI—"
KABOOM.
S.H.I.E.L.D. Triskelion – Director's Office
Nick Fury was nursing coffee and a stack of budget reports that didn't add up (and never would).
A voice suddenly next to his ear: "Whatcha reading, boss?"
Fury jolted so hard his eyepatch nearly flipped. Standing beside him—somehow already inside a Level 10 secure office—was the dog-headed idiot, leaning over the desk like a kid trying to cheat on a test.
Daniel: (⊙ω⊙)
"MOTHERFU—"
Fury caught himself, pinched the bridge of his nose, and exhaled pure exhaustion.
"Daniel. For the last time. Take. The damn. Mask. Off. And maybe wear actual pants."
"Stats are too good, boss. +30 Cold Resistance, +15 Style (Irony)."
Fury's eye twitched like it was trying to file a resignation letter.
Before Mount Fury could erupt, Daniel tapped a line on the report.
"Also, this column's weird. Fifty million dollars just… poof. Gone. Someone's cooking books."
"Classified," Fury snapped, slamming the folder shut and locking it in a drawer faster than light. "Above your pay grade."
"Sure, sure."
Fury slid a new dossier across the desk. On the cover: a smirking playboy genius with a mustache that entered rooms five seconds before he did.
Tony Stark.
"Three months ago Stark disappeared in Afghanistan after an ambush. We don't know if he's alive, dead, or building margarita machines in a cave. You're going to find out. If he's breathing, drag him home."
Right on cue:
[Nick Fury has issued a Main Quest!]
[Main Storyline: The Birth of Iron Man]
[Objective: Locate Tony Stark in Afghanistan and extract him alive]
Daniel's eyes went wide. MAIN QUEST. After two months of dicking around, the actual plot had finally dropped in his lap.
He looked at Fury—black trench coat, permanent scowl, radiating protagonist energy—and thought: Huh. If anyone's the secret final hero of this game, it's gotta be Motherfucker Man.
Fury barked, "Are you even listening?"
Daniel waved a hand. "Yeah yeah, skip cutscene."
Nick Fury's face reached new levels of done.