Ned Wyatt hunched over his glowing monitor, fingers flying across the keyboard. The room reeked of energy drinks and microwaved burritos. Outside, sirens wailed - another day in a world where spies ruled the streets.

"Take that, you pixel-pushing pansies!" he cackled, executing a perfect double-cross maneuver in Deadlock. His avatar, a suave secret agent with abs you could grate cheese on, pivoted through laser grids like a ballerina.

But this was no mere game. Deadlock was life.

Ever since the Great Cyber Collapse of '42, when AI went bonkers and decided to nuke the planet's WiFi, nations had gone dark. Military might crumbled faster than a stale cookie. In its place rose the shadowy world of espionage, where keyboard warriors became the new superheroes.

And Ned? He was the Batman of this digital Gotham.

His Deadlock avatar, "xXx_SpyGod69_xXx", that he created at age fourteen, had more confirmed kills than a politician had lies. Virtual nations trembled at his approach. Noobs wept bitter tears when he infiltrated their pitiful excuse for security.

"All too easy," Ned smirked, leaning back in his chair. It creaked ominously, threatening to dump his chubby physique onto the floor. "I am the greatest spy of all time!"

Across town, in a nondescript office building, a group of suits gathered around a holographic display.

"Subject Ned continues to excel in all Deadlock simulations," droned a woman with a voice like sandpaper on a chalkboard. "His strategies are... unorthodox, but effective."

A man with a mustache bushier than a frightened cat snorted. "But can he handle real fieldwork? There's more to being a spy than teabagging noobs, Jenkins!"

The woman - apparently called Jenkins - rolled her eyes so hard they nearly achieved escape velocity. "Sir, with all due respect, Ned has shown an uncanny ability to predict and counter enemy movements. His success rate is unprecedented."

"Bah!" Mustache-man waved a hand dismissively. "In my day, we didn't need fancy computers to be spies! We had shoe phones and exploding pens, and we liked it!"

Jenkins pinched the bridge of her nose, wondering if early retirement was an option. "Sir, perhaps we should consider-"

An alarm blared, cutting her off. Red lights bathed the room in an ominous glow.

"What in the name of Her Majesty's girdle is going on?" Mustache-man bellowed.

A technician's fingers danced across his keyboard. "Sir! It's... it's Ned! He's infiltrated our most secure server!"

Mustache-man's face turned an impressive shade of puce. "Impossible! That server's more heavily guarded than the Queen's corgi collection!"

Jenkins allowed herself a small, satisfied smile. "I told you he was good, sir."

As chaos erupted in the spy headquarters, Ned remained blissfully unaware of the chaos he'd caused. He was too busy basking in the glow of his latest victory, feet propped up on his desk and a smug grin plastered across his face.

"Who's the man? I'm the man," he chuckled, reaching for another energy drink. His hand froze midair as the screen flickered, displaying an ominous message:

[CONGRATULATIONS, AGENT xXx_SpyGod69_xXx]

[MISSION COMPLETE]

[PREPARE FOR DEBRIEFING]

Ned's brow furrowed. "Huh, that's new." He shrugged, assuming it was some kind of bonus level. After all, he was the greatest spy of all time. The game was probably cooking up new challenges just for him.

If only he knew how right he was.

As Ned's finger hovered over the "CONTINUE" button, the fates cackled. The threads of Ned's comfortable life was about to be violently yanked.

Ned's finger descended upon the "CONTINUE" button with all the weight of a nuclear launch. The screen flickered, his avatar materializing in a sterile white room.

"Geez, someone fire the interior decorator," Ned muttered, guiding his pixel-perfect spy towards a door.

It slid open with a hiss, revealing a figure that made Ned's jaw drop. There, in all his mustachioed glory, stood his in-game boss – a dead ringer for the real-world spy chief who'd been throwing a hissy fit earlier.

"Ah, Agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx," the boss's voice dripped with disdain. "Congratulations on completing your mission. There's just one... loose end to tie up."

Ned's avatar cocked an eyebrow. "Sir? I don't understand. The objective was-"

BANG!

The gunshot rang out, Ned's perfect spy crumpling to the ground like a marionette with cut strings, blood leaking out of a fine bullet hole in his head.

"What the actual f-" Ned sputtered, gaping at the screen. This wasn't how the game worked! His character was supposed to be invincible, untouchable, the Batman of the digital age!

The boss's pixelated face filled the screen, mustache twitching. "I'm afraid, my dear boy, that you've outlived your usefulness. Can't have you blabbing about our little operation, now can we?"

Ned's mind raced. Operation? What operation? He'd just been playing the game, hadn't he?

As his avatar's life drained away, two options appeared on screen:

[Ctrl + Alt + Reincarnate] - Continue

[Quit] - End Game!

"Well that's new," Ned muttered, reaching for his energy drink. His hand knocked it over, sending a tidal wave of liquid across his desk. "Ah, crap!"

In his scramble to save his keyboard from a sticky demise, Ned's elbow smashed into the keyboard. The cursor highlighted [Ctrl + Alt + Reincarnate] just as he face-planted onto the 'Enter key'.

The screen erupted in a blinding flash of light. Ned felt a sensation like being sucked through a straw made of lightning. His heart spasmed, a sharp pain lancing through his chest.

"Oh come on," he wheezed, "I'm too young for a heart attack! I haven't even hit level 100 yet!"

The world spun, reality stretching like taffy. Ned's last coherent thought before everything went dark was, "I knew I shouldn't have had that fifth energy drink..."

___

Consciousness returned slowly, like wading through molasses. Ned groaned, his head pounding worse than that time he'd tried to outdrink a Russian hacker at CyberCon.

"Ugh, did anyone get the license plate of that bus that just hit me?" he muttered feeling like he'd been run over by a bus, forcing his eyes open.

And promptly screamed like a little girl.

He was standing - *standing* - in the same sterile white room from the game. But this was no high-definition graphics. This was real. He could feel the cold floor beneath his feet, smell the antiseptic in the air.

"What in the name of all that is holy is going on?" Ned yelped, spinning in place. His body moved with a grace he'd never possessed in real life, muscles rippling beneath a tailored suit that probably cost more than his entire Steam library.

A mirror on the wall caught his attention. Ned stumbled towards it, mouth wide open.

Staring back at him was the face of his avatar - chiseled jaw, piercing red eyes, and hair that looked like it had been styled by the gods themselves.

"I'm... I'm in the game?" Ned whispered, poking his new face. It felt real. Too real.

A chime sounded, and a holographic display materialized before him:

[WELCOME, AGENT xXx_SpyGod69_xXx

SYSTEM INTEGRATION COMPLETE

MISSION PARAMETERS LOADED

STRENGTH: 95

AGILITY: 98

INTELLIGENCE: 97

CHARM: 96

SPECIAL SKILLS:

- MASTER OF DISGUISE

- EXPERT MARKSMAN

- HACKING PRODIGY

CURRENT OBJECTIVE: SURVIVE!]

Ned blinked, his mind reeling. He had stats now? And skills? Part of him - the gamer part - was thrilled. But the rational part (admittedly a bit smaller) was freaking the heck out.

"Okay, okay, don't panic," he muttered, running a hand through his perfectly coiffed hair. "You're just trapped in a hyper-realistic game world where your boss just tried to murder you. No biggie. Totally normal Tuesday."

The door slid open with that same hiss. Ned tensed, half-expecting his mustached boss to waltz in and finish him off.

Instead, a woman entered - all legs, curves, and danger.

Her giant boobs bounced gently beneath the skimpy fabric of her low-cut top, threatening to spill out at any moment. Her hips swayed seductively in a form-fitting skirt that hugged every delicious curve. The fabric clung to her every contour, accentuating her hourglass figure in all the right places.

Despite the 'barely-there' clothing, she carried herself with an air of elegance and grace, commanding attention with every sway of her hips and every bounce of her bust. She was a vision of unapologetic femininity, a goddess with curves in all the right places, and she knew it.

Her eyes narrowed as she took in Ned's disheveled appearance.

"Agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx," she purred, voice like honey laced with poison. "I see you survived the... debriefing."

Ned was already drooling over the sight of a goddess in front of him, but his new body reacted on instinct. He straightened, face settling into a mask of cool professionalism. Inside, however, he was screaming like a fanboy at a comic convention.

"It'll take more than that to keep me down," his mouth said, apparently on autopilot.

The woman's lips curved into a predatory smile. "Good. Because your next mission starts now. Follow me... if you think you can handle it."

As she sashayed out of the room, hips swaying like a metronome of temptation, Ned felt a bead of sweat roll down his back and a sudden stiff bulge between his legs.

"What have I gotten myself into?" he whispered, a large grin on his face.

***