Nick Fury stared at the blue slime bouncing in front of him.
He gripped the copper shortsword in his hand, stepped forward, and stabbed the creature.
The slime shuddered before bursting into a puddle of blue goo.
Fury looked at his sword, then at the spot where the creature had been.
"What the hell are these things called again?"
Patrick, who was sitting on the grass nearby, glanced at him.
"Slimes."
Fury slowly turned his head.
"And you expect me to believe that?"
"Believe what? That's literally what they're called."
Fury stared at him for several seconds before pointing the sword in his direction.
"All right, smartass. Start talking. What is this world?"
Patrick shrugged.
"I don't know."
"Motherfucker, talk, or I'm stabbing you with this fucking sword that appeared out of nowhere!"
Patrick raised both hands.
"Okay, okay! Jesus Christ, you're worse than my professors!"
"Start. Talking."
Patrick sighed.
'Well, there goes my peaceful exploration.'
He stood up, brushed the grass from his pants, and began explaining everything he knew about Terraria. The strange landscape, the monsters, the resources, the tools, and the fact that the world seemed to follow rules that resembled a video game.
Fury listened without interrupting, although his expression grew increasingly suspicious.
When Patrick finally finished, Fury asked the obvious question.
"Did you bring me here?"
"Mostly."
Fury's grip tightened around the sword.
"Explain."
"I came here myself. I didn't bring you, though. The world dragged you in."
"So you expect me to believe that some random world can pull people into another dimension?"
"Considering we're standing in a world full of bouncing blue blobs, I'd say you should keep an open mind."
Fury gave him a murderous look.
Patrick grinned.
"Besides, if I could choose who came here, do you honestly think I'd pick you? I'd have picked a pretty woman instead of your black ass."
There was a brief silence.
"You're a racist little shit."
"You're the one threatening me with a sword."
"Keep talking, and I'll demonstrate how sharp it is."
Patrick wisely shut his mouth.
For approximately three seconds.
"So, how do we get out?"
Fury looked around, scanning the trees and distant hills.
"Two ways that I know of," Patrick explained. "We can wait until enough time passes, or we can die."
Fury turned toward him.
"Excuse me?"
"Death kicks you out of here. You'll wake up back in the real world, but you won't be able to return until the next calendar day."
"And the other option?"
"We wait sixty hours."
Fury stared at him.
"Sixty hours?"
"One hour in the real world equals sixty hours in here while we're inside."
Fury was silent for a moment.
"So if we spend an hour here, only a minute passes outside?"
"No. An hour here is one minute outside, assuming the ratio works both ways."
"That is exactly what I just said."
"Then why did you ask?"
Fury looked like he was reconsidering whether dying might be worth it.
Patrick decided to stop helping.
After what felt like an eternity of questions, Fury finally seemed satisfied that Patrick wasn't deliberately withholding every single detail about the world.
Not that Fury trusted him.
Patrick would have been concerned if he did.
They had spent the last stretch of time dealing with the slimes that wandered too close. Fury had quickly adapted to stabbing them, though he clearly wasn't happy about having to fight creatures that looked like children's toys.
Patrick, meanwhile, had discovered that chopping trees was considerably less entertaining than he had imagined.
He swung his axe at a tree.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
The tree fell, leaving several pieces of wood behind.
Patrick stared at the result.
Then he collapsed onto the grass.
Fury looked over from where he had just killed another slime.
"What the hell are you doing?"
"Resting."
"You cut down one tree."
"Two."
"That changes everything."
"My arms hurt."
"You're twenty years old."
"Thank you for reminding me. I was worried I'd forgotten."
Fury approached the fallen tree and picked up the axe.
"Move."
Patrick watched as the director of S.H.I.E.L.D. began chopping down trees with the efficiency of a man who had decided that complaining about his circumstances was a waste of time.
Within minutes, Fury had gathered considerably more wood than Patrick had.
Patrick opened his Terraria book.
The book was strange, to say the least. Every person who entered this world received one, and it seemed designed to make survival considerably easier.
Its pages contained information about their physical condition, including health, mana, and any active buffs or debuffs. Another section served as an inventory, automatically collecting items and storing them without requiring anyone to carry everything physically.
There was also a crafting section, displaying recipes for objects they could create from available materials.
The final page contained a three-dimensional map of the areas they had explored.
It was absurdly convenient.
It was also the reason Patrick wasn't panicking.
Fury noticed him reading.
"What's that?"
"A Terraria book. Everyone who enters gets one."
Patrick explained its functions, then demonstrated how to open the inventory and examine the crafting recipes.
Fury inspected his own book with the same suspicion he would give an unexplained piece of alien technology.
"Health, inventory, crafting, and a map," Fury muttered. "Convenient."
"Right? Whoever designed this place really thought things through."
"Or wanted to make sure people could survive long enough to accomplish something."
Patrick paused.
He didn't like the way Fury thought.
It was probably why he was good at his job.
Fury closed the book.
"Can you take things out of it?"
"Not into the real world. I mean, you can retrieve things from your inventory here, but transferring Terraria items into reality is something only I can do."
Fury's expression sharpened.
"Only you?"
"Yeah."
"Why?"
"I don't know. That's just how it works."
Fury studied him for a moment, clearly filing the information away for later.
Patrick decided not to volunteer anything more about the strange circumstances surrounding his arrival.
Some secrets were better kept.
And the achievement system was the biggest one he had.
They needed shelter before nightfall.
Patrick had no intention of spending his first night in Terraria wandering around in the dark, especially when he had no idea what the local wildlife might consider a suitable dinner.
They used the wood Fury had gathered to construct a small shelter.
Calling it a house would have been generous.
It was more like a wooden box with walls that didn't quite line up and an opening that was probably supposed to be a door.
Every time they placed a piece of wood, a strange little sound played.
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
Fury stared at the structure.
Then he looked at Patrick.
"I thought you knew how to build a room."
"I know how to build a room."
"Then explain this."
"It's a work in progress."
"It looks like a work in failure."
"You're welcome to improve it."
Fury gestured at the wooden walls.
"I run a spy agency. Construction isn't part of my job description."
"Well, congratulations. Today you're learning a new skill."
"Keep talking, kid."
Patrick grinned and placed another piece of wood.
Eventually, they managed to create something that could loosely be described as a shelter.
It wasn't pretty, but it would have to do.
Patrick stepped back to admire their handiwork.
"Not bad."
Fury gave him a flat look.
"We're not discussing this again."
"Agreed."
"Good. What's next?"
Patrick blinked.
"What?"
"What do we do now?"
Patrick slowly turned toward him.
"Did Nick Fury, director of S.H.I.E.L.D., just ask me what we should do next?"
"I can still stab you."
"Right. Exploring it is."
Patrick opened the crafting section of his book.
They needed torches, and thankfully, the necessary recipe was available. They gathered wood and gel from the slimes they'd killed, then crafted several torches.
Fury examined the small lump of gel in his hand.
"This stuff is flammable?"
"Yep."
"Does it burn for long?"
"Long enough to make torches."
Fury turned the gel over between his fingers.
"And can you bring it into the real world?"
Patrick hesitated.
"Yeah. I can."
For the first time since their arrival, Fury looked genuinely interested.
"Then we have something useful."
"That's what I've been saying."
"No, you've been complaining about your arms."
"Those things aren't mutually exclusive."
Fury ignored him and examined the crafting recipe again.
"If you can bring resources back, this place could be valuable."
"That's the idea."
"And if we can use those resources to make equipment or technology that works outside this world, we might have an advantage."
Patrick nodded.
"Exactly."
He wasn't lying. Terraria's resources could be useful in the Marvel universe, and Fury was smart enough to recognize that.
Patrick also knew that cooperation would give him a much better chance of surviving than trying to outsmart one of the world's most dangerous intelligence directors.
Besides, Fury had been dragged here against his will, just like Patrick had been thrown into a universe he barely understood.
They had more in common than either wanted to admit.
Once the torches were ready, Patrick suggested exploring a nearby cave.
Fury looked toward the dark opening between the hills.
"Why?"
"Resources. Ore, stone, maybe chests. Who knows what we'll find?"
"And what happens if we encounter something dangerous?"
"As brave men, of course, we run."
Fury stared at him.
"You have a remarkable amount of confidence in a plan that consists of running away."
"Hey, I never claimed to be a superhero."
"You certainly don't behave like an intelligent civilian."
"That's the nicest thing you've said to me all day."
They approached the cave entrance, placing torches along the way to illuminate the darkness.
Before they entered, Fury stopped.
"There's something you haven't explained."
Patrick glanced back.
"There's a lot of things I haven't explained."
"The possibility of things from this world entering ours."
Patrick's smile faded.
Fury continued.
"You mentioned that the boundary between these dimensions isn't necessarily stable. If these creatures can cross over, we have a problem."
"Yeah. A pretty big one."
"And what exactly are you doing about it?"
Patrick scratched the back of his head.
"I'm trying to figure out how this place works. Explore it, gather resources, get stronger. The longer we leave things alone, the greater the risk that something could eventually get through."
Fury's eye narrowed.
"You make it sound as though you have a reason to believe that."
"I do."
"Care to elaborate?"
Patrick considered his answer carefully.
He couldn't tell Fury about the achievement system. Not about the quests, the rewards, or the consequences for failing them.
That information was his deepest secret.
But he could explain the danger without revealing the source of his knowledge.
"I don't understand everything about this world," Patrick said. "But I know we can't assume it's harmless. If we want to keep our world safe, we need to understand what we're dealing with before it becomes someone else's problem."
Fury watched him in silence.
"And you expect me to trust your judgment?"
"No. I expect you to use your own."
That answer seemed to catch Fury off guard.
Patrick continued.
"Look, you can threaten me all you want, but that won't magically make me understand everything. I'm not some genius scientist. I'm just a guy who ended up here. If you want answers, help me find them."
Fury's expression remained unreadable.
Then he stepped closer.
"Let's get one thing straight, Patrick. If I discover that you're hiding something that puts the entire world at risk, I will deal with you personally."
"Fair enough."
"And if I discover you've been lying to me?"
"Then I guess you'll have a very good reason to be angry."
"Don't test me."
Patrick raised his hands.
"Wouldn't dream of it."
Fury turned toward the cave.
"One more question. What happens if we can't stop something from crossing over?"
Patrick looked at the torch in his hand.
"Then we deal with it when it happens."
"That is not a plan."
"It's the only one I've got."
For a moment, neither spoke.
Then Fury sighed.
"Unbelievable."
"What?"
"I'm trapped in another dimension with a college student who thinks improvisation is a strategy."
"Hey, I'm a pretty good improviser."
"That's what concerns me."
Patrick laughed and followed him into the cave.
The torchlight illuminated the rough stone walls, revealing veins of ore embedded in the rock. There were resources here, perhaps even things that could prove useful back home.
For the first time since arriving, Patrick felt a little hopeful.
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
He had a companion who knew how to fight, possessed a sharp mind, and was willing to work when necessary.
Sure, that companion was Nick Fury, who seemed to consider stabbing people a perfectly reasonable conversational technique.
But nobody was perfect.
Patrick took another step into the darkness.
Something moved deeper inside the cave.
He froze.
Fury noticed immediately and raised his sword.
"What is it?"
Patrick stared into the darkness.
"I don't know."
A faint sound echoed from somewhere ahead.
Something scraping against stone.
Patrick swallowed.
'I'm going to miss my apartment.'