The sky above Kyoto was a murky haze, like a dead TV channel come to life. As dawn broke, streaks of pink and gold pierced through the gloom, fighting a losing battle against the city's eternal smog.
From above, this in-game Deadlock version of Kyoto was a far cry from its real-world counterpart. Gone were the serene temples and traditional machiya houses. In their place stood a jumble of neon-lit skyscrapers and holographic billboards, their gaudy displays cutting through the haze. The Kamo River, once a symbol of natural beauty, now glowed an unnatural blue, its waters teeming with bioluminescent algae.
Yet, amidst the haze, hints of the old city lingered. The iconic Fushimi Inari Shrine's torii gates still stood, now retrofitted with pulsing LED lights. Kinkaku-ji, the Golden Pavilion, had been rebuilt as a towering structure of actual gold, its reflection in the surrounding pond distorted by the ripples of robotic koi fishes.
Yes, Deadlock was based on modern-day Japan. Though, the game span across other countries.
As the sun climbed higher, casting long shadows across this twisted in-game version of Kyoto, Ned and his ragtag crew stumbled out of Zzo's Piz. Their stomachs were full, and their breath could probably strip paint at twenty paces.
"Fuck me sideways," he groaned, squinting against the assault of neon and sunlight. "This is the last time I'll mix coffee, sake, pizza and synthohol."
"I think I'm legally classified as a calzone now," Zeta groaned, clutching her midsection.
Ned's team of spy goddesses, looking equally worse for wear, mumbled incoherent agreements.
'Do they eat into their boobs?'Ned pondered inwardly, glancing at each of their ta-tas which seemed to have grown twist their sizes. They were huge for sure, but not this big moments ago.
'Well the bigger the better.' He grinned, feeling more alive than he had, after sneaking a peek. "Come on, team! Nothing says 'covert operation' like rolling into HQ reeking of garlic and questionable life choices."
Ned and his crew piled into their beat-up minivan, now affectionately dubbed the "Spy-mobile" by Paige. As they peeled out, leaving the smell of burnt rubber in their wake, Ned's stomach lurched in protest.
"Christ on a cracker," he muttered, clutching the dashboard. "Who gave Paige the keys?"
What followed was dead silence.
The streets of in-game Kyoto were coming alive, but not with the serene morning rituals of its real-world counterpart. Instead of monks sweeping temple grounds, holographic geishas hawked the latest sex toys.
The gentle chime of temple bells was replaced by the noice of flying cars and the hiss of vending machines dispensing mood-altering vapes.
As they weaved through traffic, narrowly missing a group of salary-men with glowing eyes, Ned couldn't help but marvel at the absurdity.
In the real Kyoto, where he lived before his transmigration, the morning would be filled with the aroma of freshly baked bread and matcha. Here, the air reeked of ozone and synthetic ramen.
"So," Atara called from the back, breaking the comfortable silence. Ned turned and was immediately drawn to her huge 'milkers' bouncing with each pothole they hit. "what's the plan, 'D'?"
Ned raised an eyebrow. "Plan?"
"Well, we can't just waltz in there like me own the place?"
"Fair point," Ned said. "But that's exactly what we're going to do... we wing it spectacularly and hope we don't die?"
Ursula snorted. "Solid strategy. I can see why they made you team leader."
As they approached the imposing glass edifice of the hive, previously a love hotel, a thought struck Ned. "Wait a minute. We can't just waltz in there like nothing happened. For all we know, there's a 'shoot on sight' order out on us."
"Exactly, what I asked." Atara groaned. "Are you really agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx, or did your brain short-circuit?"
Before Ned could respond, Paige perked up. "I might have a solution for that." From seemingly nowhere, she produced a collection of ID badges. "Nicked these during our last 'training exercise' at HQ. Thought they might come in handy."
Ned stared at her in awe. "Paige, you beautiful, sneaky genius. Remind me to nominate you for Employee goddess of the Month. Is that a thing spies have? It should be."
With their shiny new 'borrowed' identities in place, the team made their way into the heart of the organization that may or may not be trying to kill them.
The lobby was buzzing like a kicked hornet's nest. Agents zipped around, looking all serious and important. Ned tried to act cool as he led his team through the mess, but inside he was sweating buckets.
To their left, a couple of techies were field-testing new jetpacks that ran on angel dust, and not fuel.
In another corner, past a desk, an agent was testing a watch that shot laser beams.
"Keep moving," Ned hissed. They were almost to the elevators when a booming voice froze them in their tracks.
"Agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx! A word, if you please."
Ned turned slowly, coming face to mustache with none other than Director Bushier-Than-Thou himself. The man's facial hair seemed to have grown even more impressive overnight, as if fed by a diet of pure testosterone and national secrets.
"Director!" Ned exclaimed with forced cheer. "Lovely morning, isn't it? Sun's shining, birds are singing, no one's trying to kill us... yet."
The director's eyes narrowed, sweeping over Ned and his ragtag team. "My office. Now."
As they followed the director into the elevator, Ned could feel the panic rising in his throat like a particularly aggressive burp. He swallowed hard, casting a glance at his team. To his surprise, they didn't look scared. Determined, yes. Ready for action, absolutely. But not scared.
When had that happened?
The Director's office was exactly what you'd expect from a man of his stature: all dark wood, leather-bound books, and a distinct aura that felt he could have you disappeared with a single phone call.
"Sit," the director commanded, gesturing to the chairs in front of his desk.
Ned and his team complied, exchanging wary glances. Either they were about to be congratulated on a job well done or fitted for cement shoes.
The Director settled into his chair, his mustache twitching ominously. "I've received some... interesting reports about your activities last night."
Ned opened his mouth, ready to launch into an elaborate explanation involving alien abductions and a case of mistaken identity when the director held up a hand.
"Save it," he growled. "I don't want to hear whatever ridiculous story you've concocted. What I want to know is this: Are you ready?"
Ned blinked. "Ready? For what? Early retirement? A stern talking-to? A death sentence?"
The ghost of a smile flickered across the director's face. "For your real mission, of course."
A stunned silence fell over the room. Ned felt like he'd just been hit with a mental taser.
"I... what?" he managed to sputter.
The director leaned forward, his voice low and intense. "The attack last night was a test. One that you and your team passed with flying colors. My men, one won't be walking anytime soon, two would never experience the joy of a father, and their leader's 'johnson' was broken in five places. Brilliant work. Now, it's time for the real work to begin."
The room flashed red with blushes and giggles.
Meanwhile, Ned's mind reeled. "A test?"
"Of course," the director scoffed.
Atara leaned forward, her eyes blazing. "So all of this – the training, the 'washout' status, the attacks – it was all part of some elaborate plan?"
The director nodded. "Precisely. None of you girl's are washouts. You all passed spy-school with flying colors. We needed to see how you would perform under pressure, without the safety net of your... previous personas. That's why we failed you."
"But why? Why go to all this trouble?" Ned asked.
The director's expression grew grave. "Because, agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx, we're facing a threat unlike anything we've encountered before. A threat that requires not just skill but unpredictability. Creativity. The ability to think outside the box so far that you can't even see the box anymore."
He gestured to the team. "That's what you've created here. A group of supposed misfits who, against all odds, have become something extraordinary."
Ned looked at his team of flamboyant goddesses, at the monumental assets they chested, seeing them in a new and obviously more perversed light.
"So what happens now?" he asked, feeling a slight jolt in his balls.
The Director smiled, and for once, it reached his eyes. "Now, Agent xXx_SpyGod69_xXx, you and your team are going to save the WORLD."
As the gravity of those words sank in, Ned felt a grin spreading across his face. This was it. The moment every gamer dreams of – when the game becomes real - and the fate of the world rests on their shoulders.
"You will be filled in on the details soon." The director added.
"Well then," Ned said, standing up and striking his best heroic pose, "I guess there's only one thing left to say."
His team of goddesses looked at him expectantly.
"Does saving the world come with a chance to get laid by these goddesses?"
The director's facepalm echoed through the office. Meanwhile, Ned burst out of the office in an attempt to save his life from seven murderous goddesses in lacy lingerie.
"Lucky guy..." the Director sighed, looking down at the bulge between his legs.
***