Microtransactions Cause Transmigration, Please Be Cautious

1943, Brooklyn.

A heavy gloom shrouded every corner of the city, punctuated by the occasional sharp wail of an air raid siren slicing through the dark sky.

The world at this moment was locked in a fierce struggle between the Axis Powers, led by the Third Reich, and the Allied Forces.

Radio broadcasts and newspapers were filled daily with news of war casualties and the international situation.

From Europe to Asia, from the Atlantic to the Pacific.

The flames of war were everywhere, and smoke filled the land.

No one knew whether hope or destruction would come first.

In Luke's words, it was all terrible!

"If only the time I transmigrated to was a few decades later! I could go to Hollywood, write a few scripts, film a few movies, win a few Oscars. At the very least, I could achieve financial freedom by plagiarizing bestsellers and enjoy the decadent life of capitalism."

In an abandoned tavern on the street corner.

Luke held his head in his hands, his legs propped up on the table, sighing with regret.

"Or, a normal world would have been fine too. The post-WWII American economy was unprecedentedly prosperous. If I had seized the opportunity, earning my first pot of gold wouldn't have been too difficult. But... ending up on a Marvel movie set, what the heck is this?"

Luke sighed and spread out the newspaper for the day. The most prominent headline was about President Roosevelt meeting with Churchill and Stalin in Tehran.

The Allied Forces had decided to open a second front in Europe to defeat Nazi Germany as quickly as possible.

However, what caught his attention was not the direction of the World War, but a gossip item in the corner –

Howard Stark and Hollywood's "Goddess of Love," Rita Hayworth, were photographed by reporters entering and exiting the Waldorf Hotel together.

A rather clear black and white photo was attached below.

"Stark Industries..."

Luke, only twenty years old, revealed a wry smile.

Perhaps in the eyes of others, Howard Stark was just a wealthy and intelligent arms magnate.

But to Luke, he had another important identity.

The father of the future Iron Man, Tony Stark.

It was precisely Howard Stark's existence that confirmed to Luke that he had truly transmigrated to a Marvel movie set.

And it was the very beginning!

The starting point of the timeline before all major events had occurred!

This was both good news and bad news.

The good news was that Luke might not live to see Thanos, the Director of the Universe Family Planning Commission, snap his fingers.

The bad news was that he couldn't even find the tutorial village chief, Coulson, or go to Queens to find Spider-Man.

Forget about the Avengers later on; even Nick Fury's whereabouts were unknown right now, making it impossible for Luke to utilize the "strategy guides (fanfiction)" he had read in his past life.

Normally, shouldn't he be living in Hell's Kitchen and be recruited by S.H.I.E.L.D.?

Then he would meet a middle-aged agent with a receding hairline, or encounter baby Spider-Man and follow the group to gain experience?

If he were lucky enough to have a cheat, perhaps Black Widow would come knocking to use her seductive techniques.

"I'm supposed to be a lucky European!"

Luke never expected that his beginning would be in the United States during World War II.

And he had inexplicably become a young man on the streets of Brooklyn.

"Just thinking about it gives me a headache."

Luke used the newspaper to cover his face, dispelling his gloomy mood.

He had transmigrated to this world about five or six years ago and had long accepted his new identity as "Luke Cavill."

He had also accepted that his family were Irish immigrants, his father died in a gang feud, his mother died of tuberculosis, and he was an orphan with no sister.

Now, the only person Luke could consider family was his uncle, who used to "wash houses" for people when he was younger.

"Wash houses."

This was slang.

Luke's uncle was not a painter – this phrase was used to refer to killing.

Because it was difficult not to splash blood on the walls when dealing with certain troubles, gangsters habitually used "washing houses" to describe doing dirty work.

Luke's uncle was such a person who did dirty work for the gangs – when he was young.

He had been a veteran, and later, to support his family, he started "washing houses" for the gangs.

Because he was decisive and clean in his actions, leaving no unnecessary clues, he was always highly appreciated by his superiors.

And Luke, in the years after his parents' death, had relied on his uncle's support to avoid starving to death.

"My golden finger, which hasn't arrived for so long..."

Thinking of the essential cheat that every transmigrator predecessor possessed, Luke felt a pang of sympathy.

First.

The reason he transmigrated was because of a ridiculous reason.

Game microtransactions!

That's right, Luke at the time was addicted to a fighting game that used superheroes as its selling point.

And he spent money without restraint, trying to change his fate as an unlucky player through this simple and crude method.

One afternoon, he couldn't hold back and impulsively bought the deluxe gift package in the game—which included an SSS-class card, Superman, and multiple template options for Kryptonian.

It was extremely cost-effective!

But the moment he opened the gift package, Luke's eyes opened and closed, and he transmigrated.

The unluckiest part wasn't even this.

Perhaps because of a bad signal, the deluxe gift package that came with him.

It took a full five to six years to connect and load the progress.

[99%]

Luke glanced at the progress bar in his consciousness space, a look of anticipation appearing on his face.

For years, he had persisted in doing one hundred push-ups, one hundred sit-ups, and one hundred squats every day, actively basking in the sun, all to wait for the moment the deluxe gift package would open.

Unfortunately, whether it was because this place was too far from the adjacent film set, the signal was bad, or for other reasons.

The progress bar remained stuck at ninety-nine percent, refusing to budge even a single notch.

This made Luke very troubled.

"They wouldn't make me collect an Infinity Stone to open it, would they? That would be too much of a rip-off..."

Luke pouted. If he could get Superman's powers.

Then, in this dangerous world, he could develop steadily.

His life might even be better than the one in the adjacent film set.

After all, the art style wasn't so dark.

"I crave a cheat..."

Just as Luke let out a cry from his heart, the tavern door was pushed open.

Ding dong!

A crisp bell sound rang out.

"Luke! I've been looking for you for ages!"

A young man in a brown army uniform, holding a newspaper, called out.

"I went to your house, but you weren't there, so I came to Old Joseph's tavern! I knew you'd be here!"

The handsome and spirited young man, making himself at home, pulled out a chair and sat opposite Luke.

"I'm helping Old Joseph watch the shop; he's sick. Bucky, did you get your orders?"

Luke removed the newspaper covering his face and said lazily.

The young man sitting opposite him was none other than the future Winter Soldier, Captain America's best friend, James Barnes.

"Bucky" was his nickname and also a term of endearment, used only by close friends.

"Of course! The 107th Infantry Regiment! You should call me Sergeant James Barnes now! I'll be setting sail for England tomorrow morning."

Bucky puffed out his chest, his face showing pride.

This was the Second World War, and Uncle Sam's recruitment posters were everywhere.

The passionate slogans and ubiquitous television speeches had ignited the patriotic spirit of a large number of young people.

They were eager to rush to the battlefield and win honorable medals.

"It's a real shame I can't go with you."

Luke said with feigned disappointment.

He actually had no intention of joining the army.

After finally transmigrating, he was going to help Uncle Sam fight Nazi Germany. This kind of internationalist spirit was simply too moving.

He only said this to maintain his persona.

In the current environment, joining the army was something most young people would do.

"Someone has to stay behind to look after Steve. That guy always likes to meddle in other people's business; we can't leave him unsupervised!"

Bucky patted his friend's shoulder as if to comfort him.

He and Luke had discussed it in private, hoping one of them would stay on the home front.

Unfortunately, in the drinking contest that decided who would go to war, Luke lost—well, he did it on purpose.

"Actually, it's not a bad thought. With all the men in New York gone to war, that leaves three and a half million women in this city… Maybe I'll have a chance to comfort some of those fragile, beautiful souls."

Luke joked.

He and Bucky had known each other for several years.

The latter, along with Steve Rogers, were his original body's good friends.

"Steve doesn't see it that way, he's such a stubborn old mule."

Bucky sighed.

The thought of that troublesome little guy made his brow furrow.

He wanted to go to the battlefield just like himself.

But he didn't meet the physical requirements for a soldier.

"When are we going to find Steve? He's definitely at that movie theater again."

Shaking off the worries in his head, Bucky pulled a few tickets from his pocket and said excitedly, "We can go to Stark Industries' World of Tomorrow Exposition tonight! I've got a date with some pretty girls!"