January, 2008

  New York

  Kno the door

  Olivia quied her footsteps as she went to ahe bell. Her husband was here. It was 6 p.m. in the evening, and it had been snowing since m. She hurriedly opehe door, let her husband in, took off his overcoat, pced it on the coat stand, ahe umbrel to the side.

  "How was the day, honey?"

  "It erfect, my love. Well, almost perfect if not for the snow. The number of idiots I e across during the snowy season blows my mind," Mason, Olivia's husband, said.

  "Hahaha… Hasn't that beeory for the st decade or so?"

  "Don't remind me... Ugh..."

  Olivia and Mason were a happy, typical white couple living in New York, and both of their parents were from New York as well. Mason was the owner of twes, which he had built himself, and he was now managing both. The garages were doing well, as the Google reviews for both were above 4 stars, keeping his business on the right track.

  Meanwhile, Olivia was a housewife. The ey wasn't bad, so she could pursue her hobby of painting and drawing. She often sold her paintings online. Even though it was 2007, the i was quite advanced, and online shopping was slowly gaining popurity.

  It was her son, Liam, who had enced her to showcase her paintings online on social media and even post small time-pse videos of her work. Though she wasn't a geous beauty, her mature and kind appearance gartention. Her social media fame eveo an invitation to dispy one of her paintings at an art gallery.

  It wasn't a grand hit or anything, but the exposure certainly helped. Mason and Olivia spent a bit more time talking about his workpce while Olivia shared some uplifting ents she'd e across o was just everyday stuff from their ordinary lives.

  "Liam, e down for dinner."

  The family lived in a duplex, a gift Mason's father had given him when he married Olivia. Having a home in Queens instead of a dingy apartment was already a huge achievement.

  "ing..."

  Soon, the three sat at the table. Liam was their only child.

  "Liam, thank you for your advi retrofitting the exhaust with a high-flow catalytiverter. You were right; it did reduce the back pressure. The er even came back today and thanked me. Of course, he didn't return out of courtesy—he'd rear-ended a car while driving in the snow early this m," Mason said with a mix of pint and humor. Liam could tell his father leased, knowing it was these "idiots" who kept his busihriving.

  "Uh… Thanks, Dad. I'll join you tomorrow after school," Liam replied sheepishly. He didn't say more and focused on his food.

  Liam was a high schooler, about to turn 16 that year. He often visited the garage to help out, a habit that had started half a year ago when he decided to tinker around one day.

  The garage employees had given him a warm wele, as he was the boss's son. Initially, they treated him with respect but kept a safe distance. Liam found it difficult at first, sensing their unease, but over time, they accepted him as one of their own and eve him work on some cars brought in for maintenand repair.

  Liam mostly worked on car engines, as they were his main i. Over the past few months, he had earhe employees' trust, and even his father admitted Liam rodigy when it came to cars. Mason roud of his son and made sure Liam k.

  The rest of dinner went as usual, and Liam soouro his room.

  "Our son has bee so introverted. I miss the old days when Liam was bubbly and outgoing," Olivia said nostalgically. She had noticed how much her son had ged in the past year.

  "Leave him alone, Olivia. He's a teenager now. You 't expect him to always be happy. There's nothing wrong with him. We just o avoid pressuring him," Mason replied.

  "Of course, you'd say that. He's following the same path as you—spending his time in the garage, tinkering with maes that don't have emotions," Olivia retorted.

  "Hey, , don't hurt me like that. Those maes talk to me," Mason joked.

  "Yeah? Then why didn't you marry those maes if they talk to you?" Olivia snapped.

  "Hahaha… Don't be jealous, my love. I may love those maes, but there are people who love cars even more than I do. One guy visits every two months just to do a routine che his old 1962 Chevrolet Corvette. He even Lo. You think I'm crazy? You should see him."

  "No, thank you."

  Liam was ba his room. It had been more than a year since he was transmigrated into this healthy body. Yes, a perfectly fine ahy body had repced Shawn's from Earth. In his previous life, Shawn had been a nerd. When he first realized the general setup of this world, he almost fainted in shock.

  The MCU.

  For the first few months, he lived in terror, thinking the TVA would e after him. But thankfully, they didn't. Then he feared his presence might cause a butterfly effect, altering the MCU as he k.

  It was a debate between Murphy's Law and the Butterfly Effect.

  Shawn didn't know what his presence might bring to this new universe. Part of him was eager to find out, but a bigger part was scared. He felt lonely. Thankfully, he hadn't arrived empty-handed.

  He came with a Goldfinger—or at least that's what it was called. At first, he was excited to have something that would help him rise to the top of the world, but once he got the hang of it, he wao crawl under a bed and pray to return to his old life.

  Because this system ure torture.

  [Do you wish to travel to the world?]

  "Yes."

  [Good luck.]

  Liam found himself in an futuristi built with metal ptes and various holographic around with only a pistol in his hand. He held a shiny, round, hockey puck-like instrument, which resembled Tony Stark's arc reactor. Liam didn't waste a sed and made a run for it. As he was running, a call came in from CDR. Sarah Briggs.

  [Cooper, your Titan is standing by. Call when you are ready. Stand by for Titanfall.]

  There was a loud thud from the upper atmosphere, and after a sed, a huge mecha fell to the ground, causing a small earthquake-like wave around it. Liam didn't seem amazed or scared that a huge mecha had just fallen in front of him. He seemed to be expeg it as he proceeded to pce the shiny arc reactor instrument into the small circur hole in the face of the mecha.

  If it wasn't clear before, let me make it clear now. The Goldfinger was a half-intelligent system. It allowed Liam to cross into the game worlds of his previous life. Yup, games that one could py in his previous life. It wasn't something like world-hopping, where Liam would bee a random NPd just travel between worlds.

  Nothing like that. What it allowed was for Liam to take on the role of the protagonist in the game and py as the main character. Now, this might sound very easy since most games were, well, easy. But it wasn't for Liam.

  Titanfall 2 was his first world, and he had been pying its four-hour single-pyer campaign for the st year, struggling to finish it. Why? Because the game was set to extreme hard difficulty, and the NPCs, who were easy to kill in the inal, were now intelligent and could think for themselves. Not only was the game extremely hard, but the intelligence of the NPCs made his life a living hell for the past year.

  Every 24 hours, he was allowed to ehe game world once. He could stay there non-stop because time in the MCU froze for him. There were two ways to return to the MCU: either finish the whole campaign or just die.

  Yup. For the past year, that's what he had been doing every day. Dying. Every. Single. Day. For most people, it would have beeally wreg and would've hem in a hospital. But the Goldfinger came with a ch. It erased the mental stress, PTSD and other problems he might face due to stantly being in war and also sometimes his disorientation of time.

  Thus, for the past year, after dinner—which had bee almost a ritual for him—he would travel to the world of Titanfall 2, apanying the meamed BT-7742, or BT for short. Siime froze for Liam in the MCU, he had been iual training.

  Training that made death his greatest teacher. Because of this, he had progressed far when it came to using guns, maneuvering through battlefields filled with flying bullets, mastering stealth, and all kinds of military tactics.

  A one-man army. Of course, this ossible thanks to BT, which provided him with the most optimal ways to deal with situations, courtesy of its built-in AI. But AI, at the end of the day, was just a tool. Liam had to learhing from scratch. At first, he died repeatedly because he couldn't aim straight, and his body was always sore.

  So, he began learning how to use guns and properly handle his gear, and alsthen his weak body. It took him a long time to get the hang of it and actually have the strength to be in a battlefield, but eventually, he became capable of ung attacks. He practiced during the moments he was given to recharge while being transferred from one mission to ahankfully, there were no time restris.

  Liam had pyed the single-pyer campaign before, so he vaguely remembered the missions and knew his way around. Naturally, this also mea to experience piloting BT and using the mecha.

  He had never been a huge fan of mechas, which was odd sidering he was a nerd. But after piloting a Titan, he finally uood the appeal. Driving and fighting with a Titan was exhirating, and when he achieved his first victory, he couldn't help but beam with joy.

  Thus, even though the past year had been grueling, with death as his stant panion, he progressed like a madman. He even mao learn how to repair cars from BT. Si's AI stored vast amounts of information, and many vehicles were damaged in the game world, Liam learned a lot about car meics as he pleted missions day by day. Eventually, he was able to apply that knowledge in the real world.

  He was in 2008 already and this year would be a test if this world followed Murphy's Law or just a bad case of butterfly effect. Actually, Liam also feared that one day A One will show up after he got himself the Goldfinger. But thankfully he didn't get any visit from the bald headed old woman.

  Thus he wao finish the game as the system had said that depending upon his pletion and success rate, he would be awarded. Now Liam didn't know what he would be awarded but he was looking forward to it.