Everyone knows it—every true player is a walking armory.
And when it came to firepower, Darren had never been afraid of anyone.
Facing the group of stunned, wide-eyed terrorists in front of him, he grinned. "You boys ready for the fireworks?"
He pulled the trigger.
The six thick barrels began spinning, the heavy hum of the Gatling gun rising into a vicious roar.
The bald warlord's pupils contracted. His face twisted in terror. "RETREAT! RETREA—"
BRRRRRRRRRRRT!
The rest of his words were swallowed by the storm.
The Gatling screamed as it spat out six thousand rounds per minute, the air vibrating with the sound of raw, mechanical fury. The first line of gunmen disintegrated before they could even flinch. Flesh, sand, and armor blended into one crimson blur.
Those who tried to fight back barely had time to pull their triggers before they were reduced to pulp, their rifles clattering from hands that no longer existed.
Darren didn't even bother with cover. With a smirk, he activated Reaper's Eye again. The world slowed, and in that frozen haze, every enemy head shone with a crimson target mark.
Bullets carved through everything. Walls, sandbags, men—it didn't matter. Gatling fire turned the battlefield into a meat grinder.
In front of the Gatling, all beings were equal.
...
Then suddenly, silence.
The gunfire stopped.
The few remaining terrorists dared to peek from their hiding spots, thinking maybe, finally, the monster's gun was out of ammo.
They were wrong.
Darren reached into his pocket, pulled out a pair of black sunglasses, and slid them onto his face. "Knew I forgot something." He flashed a grin. "Alright. We can continue."
"Motherfu—"
BRRRRRRRT!
By the time the sound faded, there was nothing left but shredded sandbags and silence. Even the bald warlord, who'd seemed like a minor boss character, was now just one more corpse on the sand—worth a measly 100 XP.
Darren sighed. "Thought he'd drop something rare. Guess not."
After a quick scan of his minimap—no more red dots—he slung the Gatling over his shoulder and approached Tony.
He rapped his knuckles against the steel helmet. "Hey. You dead?"
"Not yet," came the muffled reply.
Tony opened his faceplate, eyes wide with disbelief. "What are you?"
"I told you already," Darren said casually. "S.H.I.E.L.D. agent. Name's Darren."
"Agent, huh…" Tony's mouth twitched.
He'd seen special agents before—but none that fought like this. If he hadn't watched it happen, he'd have sworn he was looking at a damn Terminator.
"Tony! Are you okay?" Yinsen came rushing over.
"I'm fine," Tony said, exhaling. "Just out of juice. Help me get this thing off."
With Yinsen's help, he unlatched the crude armor piece by piece. Beneath the chestplate, the faint blue glow of the arc reactor pulsed like a heartbeat.
Darren's eyes lit up. "Whoa. Cyberpunk chest mod! I want one. How much?"
Tony rolled his eyes. "Not for sale."
Who the hell wants a hole in their chest?
Before Darren could argue, Tony's tone shifted, his expression serious. "Listen, Darren. I need your help."
"Depends. What's the quest?"
"Destroy these weapons. All of them."
Tony's gaze hardened. "I don't want my designs used for killing anymore."
[NPC Tony Stark has issued a new mission]
[Mission: Destroy the Weapons]
[Objective: Eliminate all Stark Industries weapon stockpiles in the camp]
[Reward: +500 EXP, +10 Tony Stark Affection]
A small reward, but an easy one.
"No problem."
Darren snapped his fingers and pulled a sticky bomb from his inventory, slapping it onto a nearby crate of missiles.
Tony's eyes widened the moment he recognized them—Stark Industries Jericho-class missiles. Each one powerful enough to level a mountain.
There were six of them in that box.
"Holy sh—!"
His face turned pale green. Without a second thought, he grabbed Yinsen by the arm and ran.
"BOOOOOOOOOM!!"
The explosion ripped through the valley like the wrath of a vengeful god. A towering column of fire devoured the sky, heat washing over the desert in waves.
Even from hundreds of meters away, Tony and Yinsen could feel the searing air lick at their backs.
They collapsed onto the sand, gasping, hearts hammering.
Meanwhile, Darren strolled out of the smoke behind them, perfectly calm—not a bead of sweat on his face.
"You maniac!" Tony shouted between breaths. "You almost killed us!"
Darren blinked. "Why?"
Tony's face twisted. "Why? If that had been a timed charge and not—"
"Timed? Nah." Darren held up a small remote control, grinning. "It's remote-detonated. Only goes boom when I press the button."
Tony and Yinsen: "…"
You could've said that sooner!
...
Moments later, a Quinjet swooped in from above, kicking up a storm of sand as it landed.
Coulson stepped out, face torn between disbelief and despair. "Weren't we supposed to keep this mission low-profile?"
"I was low-profile," Darren said sincerely.
Coulson glanced behind him.
The smoking crater glowed bright enough to be seen from orbit.
He sighed. Deeply. "Right."
He turned to Tony, offering a professional handshake. "Mr. Stark. Agent Phil Coulson, S.H.I.E.L.D. I'll be escorting you home."
Tony took his hand, relieved to finally meet someone who didn't seem insane. So there are normal people in S.H.I.E.L.D. after all.
If they were all like Darren, the organization should've been called the Department of Delusional Affairs.
...
Darren ignored the chatter, eyes drawn instead to the flickering system window in front of him.
[Main Quest: The Birth of Iron Man — Completed!]
[Rewards: +10,000 EXP, Equipment "Frying Pan," Equipment "Golden Desert Eagle," Skill "Healing Breath," Item "Ribbon Voice Changer."]
[Equipment: Frying Pan — Indestructible. Blocks all ballistic attacks. Also, uh… protects your rear.]
[Equipment: Golden Desert Eagle — A golden hand cannon. You'll be the flashiest man in the room.]
[Skill: Healing Breath — Recover 5% HP per second after 10s out of combat, as long as you keep breathing.]
[Item: Ribbon Voice Changer — Switch freely between "cute loli" or "mature lady" voice modes.]
"…Holy crap."
Darren stared, slack-jawed.
Ten thousand experience points. Legendary loot. Multiple new skills. This was by far the biggest reward he'd ever seen.
All those months grinding daily missions for scraps—what a joke. All that pain, all those long, miserable nights…
For what!?
He clutched his head dramatically. "Coulson… tell Nick Fury… I can't go back."
Coulson blinked. "What?"