Marvel: Video Game Templates!

Maxim Novikov moved through the crowded streets of the port town with the fluid grace of a predator stalking its prey.

The environment was certainly a massive shift from Russia. The oppressive heat from the sun weighted heavily on his shoulders, a stark contrast to the frigid cold he had left behind in Russia.

However, after his training, Maxim naturally wasn't effected by the climate, his mind was more focused on his target, Ulysses Klaue, and how to reach him.

This town wasn't a normal one, it was a den of violence and corruption. You could find anything here, weapons, drugs and even people, for the right price of course, like any other crime den, this place ran on money.

However, it remained a normal town on the surface, the air thick with the scent of sweat and saltwater, the pungent aroma of fish from the various venders standing around, shouting out their products and prices to prospective customers.

All of this was a sensory assault on Maxim, but he was unbothered. He had trained himself to ignore discomfort, to push through pain and focus on the task at hand. This drive and focus kept Maxim ahead of his opponents.

His hood was pulled low over his face, and a mask blocking others from recognizing him. He slightly hunched, intentionally reducing his height to not draw too much attention to himself.

The town was a labyrinth of narrow alleyways and crumbling buildings, each turn leading deeper into the underbelly of this forgotten corner of the world, and he didn't want to be easily recognizable.

Maxim blended seamlessly into the crowd, his movements purposeful but unhurried. He knew better than to draw attention to himself. In a place like this, the wrong look or a misstep could be fatal.

He had seen the bodies in the alleys, the signs of violent ends met by those who had crossed the wrong people. Those were the idiots who thought they were stronger than they were, or those who drew too much attention to themselves.

Maxim wasn't dumb enough to make the same mistakes. He made his way to one of the town's more notorious establishments, a seedy bar nestled between two crumbling warehouses.

The building was a relic of better times, showing clear signs of age, but the steady stream of patrons slipping in and out told Maxim all he needed to know.

Looking around, he could see the men walking around, keeping to themselves, weapons holstered, a scent of smoke and alcohol emanating from their bodies. With that information, Maxim could easily deduce where this was.

This was where the town's most dangerous bar, the nexus point of crime where the desperate came to drown their sorrows and make deals in the dark.

Pushing open the door, Maxim stepped inside, greeted by the familiar dim lighting and haze of smoke that seemed to permeate every corner of this world. The air was thick with the smell of stale beer, sweat, and the acrid tang of cheap cigarettes.

A few heads turned in his direction as he entered, but most quickly looked away, disinterested or too absorbed in their own business to care about the newcomer.

After all, everyone had better things to do than to focus on random guy looking to do business, especially in a den of crime. No-one wanted to pay too much attention and offend him.

Maxim made his way to a corner of the bar, choosing a spot where he could observe the room without being easily seen. He ordered a drink, something local and strong, but took only a sip.

The bar was filled with the low murmur of conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of raucous laughter. It was a cacophony of sound, but Maxim had long since learned to pick out the useful threads from the noise.

His enhanced senses, honed through training and the integration of Omen's abilities, allowed him to filter through the chatter, focusing on the conversations that mattered, the knowledge that filtered through would be valuable.

At a table nearby, a group of men were engaged in a hushed discussion, their voices barely audible over the other discussions. Maxim tuned in, his attention sharp as he caught snippets of their conversation.

"…shipment's late… Klaue won't be happy…"

"…another attempted thief killed…"

"…new buyer in town… wants something big…"

The mention of Klaue made Maxim's ears prick up. He leaned back in his seat, feigning disinterest as he continued to listen. The men were clearly nervous as they discussed.

Maxim's eyes scanned the room, searching for anyone else who might be worth eavesdropping on. Initially, he didn't find anyone, and kept to himself.

But after another 30 mins, a man came in, sitting alone and nursing a drink as he kept a watchful eye on the door. He had an older, grizzly appearance and the temperament of a man who spent a lifetime in the criminal underworld.

Maxim's instincts naturally told him this man was worth paying attention to. For now, he kept his focus on the group nearby. The men continued their conversation, unaware of the predator in their midst.

"…heard the buyer's looking for Vibranium… willing to pay a fortune…"

"…Klaue's the only one who can get it… but he's spooked…after the last attempted robbery…"

Maxim's heart rate didn't change, but internally, his interest piqued. The buyer these men were discussing might be someone of use to him, or they could be an obstacle.

Either way, knowing more about them would be crucial.

He continued to listen, gleaning what he could from their conversation. The men didn't have much in the way of specifics, but they dropped a few names, places where Klaue conducts business, contacts who could help track him down.

It wasn't much, but it was a start.

As the men finished their drinks and prepared to leave, Maxim made a note of their faces, committing them to memory. He would follow up on their leads later, but for now, he had other priorities.

His attention shifted to the man at the end of the bar. The grizzled figure hadn't moved much, but Maxim could see the way his eyes flickered toward the door every time it opened.

The way his fingers drummed absently on the table as if waiting for something, or someone.

Maxim stood, leaving his drink untouched as he made his way across the room. He approached the man casually, slipping into the seat opposite him without asking for permission.

The man glanced up, his eyes narrowing as he took in Maxim's hooded, masked figure.

"You got a death wish, sitting down without asking?" the man growled, his voice rough and gravelly.

"Maybe," Maxim replied, his tone calm, almost disinterested, "But I'm not here to cause trouble. Just looking for some information."

The man eyed him suspiciously, his hand twitching toward something beneath the table, likely a weapon. Maxim didn't flinch, didn't give any indication that he was concerned.

"What kind of information?" the man asked after a moment, his voice still edged with suspicion.

"Word on the street, someone's selling a good metal here, I need it!" Maxim said, watching the man's reaction.

The man's eyes widened slightly, and his grip tightened on whatever he was holding under the table, "Vibranium. That's a dangerous thing to be throwing around," he muttered, leaning in closer, "What makes you think I know anything about that?"

"Because you're still talking to me," Maxim replied, his voice low and even, "Which means you either know something, or you want something."

The man's gaze hardened, but there was a flicker of interest there too, "What's in it for me?" he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"Depends on what you've got to offer," Maxim said. "But I'm willing to make it worth your while."

The man studied him for a long moment, as if weighing his options. Finally, he nodded, a slow, deliberate movement, "I might know where the deals take place," he said cautiously. "But it's not going to be easy. The people who run in those circles don't take kindly to strangers."

"I'm not here for a deal, I just want it," Maxim replied, his voice edged with steel, "I'm someone who gets things done."

The man smirked, a hint of approval in his eyes. "You've got balls, I'll give you that," he said, "Alright, I'll tell you what I know. But this isn't charity. I'm going to need something in return."

Maxim leaned back slightly, considering the man's words. He had expected this, knew that in a place like this, nothing came for free, "Name your price," he said.

The man hesitated for a moment, then leaned in closer, lowering his voice even further, "I've got a shipment coming in, something big. But I've got some competition sniffing around, trying to take it from me. You help me deal with them, and I'll point you in the right direction."

Maxim nodded, his expression unreadable. It was a fair trade, and it would give him an excuse to move around the town, gathering more information as he went. "Consider it done," he said, extending his hand.

The man eyed him for a moment, then shook his hand with a firm grip. "Name's Deacon," he said. "You meet me at the docks tonight. We'll handle this together."

"Sova," Maxim replied, using one of his many aliases, which he decided to just be the names of different Valorant agents, "I'll be there."

With that, the deal was sealed. Maxim rose from the table, his mind already working through the details of the night ahead.

He had made his first contact, and with Deacon's help, he would get one step closer to finding Klaue and the Vibranium he needed.

As he made his way back out into the crowded streets, Maxim kept to himself, ducking into the shadows as he thought about his upcoming mission.

This was a basic transaction, he get the work done for the Deacon, and he get the information he needs, nothing more, nothing less.

The pieces were starting to fall into place, and soon,

Maxim would be ready to make his move!