Multiplayer of Madness

Within an ancient monastery in Nepal, a woman so old that you could even call her ancient without causing offense, sat crosslegged in meditation. Across from her sat another Master of the Mystic Arts, except instead of meditating, he was holding a cellphone with his eyes closed.

"That's enough, you can come back Mordo," the woman sighed before starting to prepare a pot of tea.

The man opened his eyes which held faint traces of disappointment before glancing at his teacher, "Well? Anything we need to worry about, Master?"

"Not that I can see, no," the Ancient One said softly. "It's strange and unimaginable, but not dangerous from what I can tell. Outside gaining an unhealthy addiction to video games, maybe."

"What do you mean by strange?" Mordo asked as he stood up to bring over some cups.

"The way this ASTIR functions, should theoretically be impossible," she paused to pour for them both before continuing. "Essentially, a thin layer of your astral body is pulled away and sent into the game, serving as a link to the main self. When you return, so does the piece and the link is closed."

"Isn't that dangerous though," Mordo asked, a little worried by how it sounded. "Wouldn't you become weaker without a portion of your astral body? Isn't this a prime arrangement for an enemy to pair with an attack?"

"Technically yes, you would become weaker, but not any more so than being distracted by the game itself," the woman said. "The layer is so thin that your response to external stimuli would bring you back and it with you, before anything could happen to your main astral body in the first place."

The Ancient One paused to take a sip before continuing with a teasing smile, "As for what you really want to ask then yes, you may continue playing. In your free time, that is."

Mordo merely nodded at the remark and got up to leave expressionlessly. However if one looked closely, they would be able to see a pair of slightly reddened ears when he bowed. This caused her smile to spread into a full blown smirk.

*cough* "Thank you, master," Mordo finally said after being so easily seen through. "I'll be sure to inform the others of your words."

The Ancient One sighed as the door closed, pulling out her own phone and staring at it with a look of hesitation. What she hadn't told him, was that things were not nearly as simple as they seemed.

Shortly after the Stark boy posted a video that had never shown up in any of her prior glimpses into the future, she went to check how it came to happen. Only, she didn't see anything. Not that she saw nothing, but that the time stone could no longer 'look' into the future at all.

It wasn't until after a rigorous inspection of the planetary defenses and a message from her own teacher that she finally calmed down. If he hadn't directly told her that, while they didn't know the cause, the VR posed no threat itself and that the issue with the Time Stone was merely a result, not the effect, then she would have never allowed her students to access it so freely.

And now here she was, preparing to take the plunge herself. Once her worries were appeased and so clearly out of her hands, the problems with the Time Stone turned out to be more of a gift than anything else. It was as if a great weight had just been lifted from her shoulders, leaving her spirit feeling lighter than it had in decades.

With no major events that she know of coming anytime soon, on the mystical side of things at least, she finally had the time to relax for once. What better way to do so then drinking some good tea and getting in on the latest craze that was sweeping the world?

•••••••••••

Brooklet Hill, Akala Island

•••••••••••

Clint Barton was never one to really play video games. Sure he knew all about them, he had two kids after all, but they just never really drew him in like they did others. His life was exciting enough on its own that he had no need to seek out such things in his little free time.

So it was easy to say that he was surprised when orders came down to investigate the new multiplayer mode of easily the biggest video game of all time. Clint didn't know why he was sent in specifically, but this was staring to become his most enjoyable mission to date.

"Dartrix, finish it off with Razor Leaf."

[The Totem Wishiwashi is unable to battle, the winner of this Trial is Clint Barton!]

[Please place your Trial Challenge Amulet under the hologram to receive proof of your victory.]

Clint recalled his Pokémon and did so with a pleased smile, which quickly soured after receiving a call from his supervisor, watching his private stream in the outside world.

"Clint, stop playing around and get out of there," came the voice of Natasha in his ear. "Those bastards from the other teams are coming over and if you black out again, we're going to be out 50 bucks."

Clint scowled as he crouched down and started sneaking his way out of the Trial area. Whoever thought it was a good idea to start a prize pool for the fastest teams to complete each region, was officially on his shit list. How was he supposed to have fu-, complete his mission with every other STRIKE team breathing down his neck after every battle. Just because he and Natasha work directly under Fury, they somehow all decide to all gang up on them.

To make it even worse, they always fought in groups and all used poison types so that even if you won, you'd still have to waste time either buying antidotes or at a Pokémon Center. That wasn't even counting the fact they they traded overleveled Pokémon to each other from across every region. Clint swore that if he had to battle Rumlow's Arbok one more time, he was gonna be pissed.

"Shit!" Nat cursed. "They've got you surrounded and Rollins has a Toxapex blocking the exit."

"Bastards!" Clint ground his teeth in fury.

"Now now, Barton," came a voice from behind. "That's not a very nice thing to say about your coworkers."

"Kaminsky?!" Clint said in disbelief. "Since when did you get transferred to STRIKE?"

"He's not been transferred per se," another voice spoke, from the left this time. "More of just, a collaboration of sorts. A sharing of mutual interests."

"Rumlow," Clint nearly growled, turning to find his now most hated enemy walking towards him with a small green blob atop his shoulder. "Your splitting the pot aren't you? How despicable, but sadly not the least bit surprising."

"You wound me Clint," Rumlow said with faux sadness. "You of all people should know, that all is fair in love and war. We're all in this for our love of money and in case you haven't figured it out yet, this…"

The man released his level 36 Arbok, followed swiftly by several more along the borders of the encirclement, as he sneered derisively, "Is very much a war."