Although it often came up in conversations as some sort of icebreaker, Tom thought the question itself had absolutely no merit.
'What would you bring with you if you could only take 3 things to a deserted island?'
It was properly a good way for some people to segway into talking about hobbies or things a person absolutely couldn't live without, but being stuck on a deserted island was a serious problem. While some people who quote 'couldn't live without their phones' or 'would die without at least a piece of chocolate a day', Tom's answer to the question was far more pragmatic.
Number 1: A satellite phone, preferably one which could hook up to the USIE tactical communication net so he could signal for help, or at least tell the demons who had trapped him in debt to pound sand one last time.
Number 2: A pallet of USIE standard 24-hour self-heating rations, that way he could eat comfortably for over a month while awaiting rescue, as seawater could be used in the rations' chemical heaters.
Number 3: A pallet of USIE standard personal survival reusable water filters, even as much as Tom hated using them due to the strong chemical aftertaste, it barely beat out dying of thirst on a tropical island.
The reason why Tom had remembered that cringeworthy conversation starter after he had hoped very much to forget it was his current situation. Finding himself in what he believed was some sort of afterlife, old and in constant pain from his body rejecting the numerous biomechanical implants that had sustained some level of function, Tom was faced with some kind of divine entity which asked him only a single question.
Name 3 things you will need to fix my world.
The divine entity which had somehow pulled Tom into a pure white space without gravity or a need for him to breathe defied all reason, its body seemed to be sculpted out of some sort of brass coloured liquid metal and seemed to be a mix between a person, some kind of eldritch sea creature and a deer from its impressive stag antlers, and it seemed to float freely underneath an ever expanding fractal pattern of halos.
As the divine entity in front of him defied all logical reasoning, Tom simply chose to believe it was real, from there he started thinking critically about its question. Given that there wasn't any apparent way for Tom to refuse to 'fix' the world, and it didn't say it would be Tom's world he assumed he would be sent somewhere unknowable, but as this divine entity had chosen him specifically he assumed it was because of his special skill set.
(... I really thought I would be done with all this merc work when I finally died, I guess fate really has it out for me.)
Tom had worked all his life as an 'independent military contractor' through no choice of his own, as debt from medical procedures and use of USIE equipment created a cycle of indentured servitude which was not that different from slavery.
(I guess fighting really is the only thing I'm good at… No use denying it now, I still can't really read or write that well as I never went to school.)
"The first thing I would need to fix your world is a healthy body, this one is old, decrepit and barely held together by the cheapest implants available, my eyes and ears are failing and I wouldn't be any good as a mercenary without those. I can't kill what I can't see, and I can't fight when it's a fight just to stand."
Having stated the first thing he needed, Tom instantly felt his body change as scarring started to heal, his senses returned to their peak which had long since passed while failing biomechanical implants were replaced with normal body functions. The muscles of a soldier quickly returned to Tom's body as his mind also quickened, it seemed like the ever present fog which had been stuck in his mind since he was first shot in the head finally disappeared, allowing him to think clearly and without considerable effort.
"Hmm, nice."
Checking his body by clenching his hands, Tom had already decided the next thing he needed.
"The next thing I'll need is a M-909 DMR fitted with a LNX electro optical L4 sight loaded with armour piercing incendiary ammunition."
Immediately the rifle which Tom had made a large part of his career using appeared in his hands, checking the condition of the rifle Tom ejected the 20 round magazine before clearing the chamber, then he racked the action a few times before checking the trigger and moving on to the sight. The LNX L4 sight was an after market modification that Tom had been particularly fond of in his previous life, due to its build in laser rangefinder, adjusting to engage targets at a variety of ranges was a breeze, and paired with a dedicated marksman rifle like the M-909 chambered in 8.75 mill Special Purpose it was a marksman's dream solution for staying out of trouble while still putting fools in the ground.
(Given I don't know what I'm running up against, staying at range would be preferable, now there's just the issue of supplies.)
While Tom could properly do a lot of 'fixing' with 20 rounds of armour piercing incendiary, he didn't honestly believe it was enough to fulfil the divine entity's mission.
"The final thing I'll need to fix your world is a way to resupply myself and my weapon. While I might be able to do a lot of hurt with 20 rounds of ammunition, I suspect it won't be enough to complete the mission."
Instead of responding to Tom's words, the divine entity extended out one of its hands towards him.
Touching Tom's head with a single finger which was the size of his entire body, a mass of knowledge suddenly flooded into his mind and assured Tom that resupply of not only ammunition, spare parts, magazines wouldn't be a problem, furthermore it wasn't out of the question that he could get his hands on even more hardware depending on his performance.
"Welp, I'll get to it."
Crouching down with rifle in hand, Tom was motivated to fight for the first time in his life as the divine entity had promised him great payment in return for his service.
OBJECTIVE_STACK_PRIMARY
FIX THE WORLD.
NO_SECONDARY_OBJECTIVE(S)_IN_STACK.
END_OF_REPORT.
"Roger… But first, I'll need to get dressed…"
Suddenly finding himself in the clearing of a lush, temperate forest, Tom looked up to see the sun still rising in the sky, but as he was currently buck naked he would suffer hypothermia before getting anything done.
(Hmm, no sign of civilization in sight and there's no way I'll find any kind of shelter before sun-down…)
"Time to see if this works or not."
Finding himself pretty much fucked, Tom put his rifle down and got on his knees, extending his hands in prayer as he felt a strange power and heat build in his outstretched hands, extending into his core and spreading up into his head.
"I serve the Hunt, may it bring balance."
INTERFACE_CONFIRMED:_ACTIVE.
CONNECTION_SECURE.500_POINTS_AVAILABLE.
The way the divine entity had made Tom able to resupply was surprisingly like his old life; with cold, hard cash.
Although he was not spending some kind of negotiable currency, but divine favour.
(The more tasks I complete the more favour I earn to use on resupplying… For now, I need clothes, something that won't look out of the normal around here.)
REQUEST_CONFIRMED:NOW_SEACHING.
STANDBY.
(Hmm, so this clearly isn't an instant thing, I can't rely on resupplying under fire.)
Requiring a significant amount of concentration, Tom quickly realised that he would need to think carefully about when to resupply, he couldn't just call for grenades and watch them instantly falling from the sky.
QURREY_COMPLEATE
STATUS:_AVALIBLECOST:_100_POINTSCONFIRM_PURCHASE_Y/N?
"Yes please."
Having confirmed his intentions, Tom felt the heat quickly dissipate from his head, leaving through his core and then his hands as a set of clothes made out of brown hemp-like fibre appeared out of thin air in front of him.
(Hmm, well that was relatively simple…)
"Time to see what else I can currently afford."
Getting dressed, Tom spent about an hour experimenting with his resupply as he spent all but 10 points on a pair of sturdy military boots from his old world, a leather vest for some increased protection and a sling for his M-909.
(So things from my old world are definitely more expensive than anything else… That means I need to save on ammunition whenever I can.)
Finding that the synthetic polyester sling for his rifle was just as expensive as the set of clothes he was wearing while the leather vest cost absolutely nothing Tom had considered saving more of his remaining points and not buy a good pair of boots, but as he didn't know how long he would need to move before finding civilization he couldn't afford to be cheap.
Glancing up at the sky to find that the sun had risen to its peak, Tom decided he couldn't waste more sunlight and picked a random direction to travel before swinging his rifle over the shoulder.
(This body sure is great… Perhaps even better than back in my prime 70 years ago?)
Simply taking a walk was something Tom didn't even realise he had missed before now, being able to breathe deeply without pain, feeling his legs were all things he had forgotten.
Walking through the forest and getting used to the sounds of nature, Tom was starting to lose hope when he finally found a trace of civilization.
"Well, it's more a dirt road than anything else… At least I'm making progress."
From the state of the road it was clear that it saw regular use, so Tom's mood did somewhat improve as he started travelling towards the setting sun. Around afternoon Tom finally had his first encounter with civilization as a large, tarp covered carriage pulled by some large horse-like creature appeared on the horizon ahead.
"Let's see what we got here…"
Taking a knee, Tom brought up his rifle and looked through the scope to find a single driver, a man in the start of his fifties wearing expensive looking clothing and two escorts on either side of the carriage wearing leather armour and wielding spears.
"Seriously?"
Among the data installed in his head by the divine being were some things Tom had refused to believe up until now, but it did indeed seem that he now found himself in a world of swords and magic where technology had largely been stunted and replaced by magic.
Putting his rifle away and getting back on his feet, Tom walked to meet the small party of travellers who noticed him when he came closer, coming to a stop as he raised a hand in greeting.
"Hello!"
Extending a healthy and friendly greeting, Tom quickly got on in return form the carriage driver.
"Hello fellow traveller, what can I do for you on this fine day?"
While the older carriage driver seemed to not mind the appearance of Tom in the slightest, his two escorts, a man and a woman both sized Tom up as they took a slightly closer position to the carriage and its owner they were protecting.
(Good instincts, but they're slow.)
Rating the guards as he gave the driver a friendly smile, Tom made sure to mind his distance to the guards and the carriage as he started talking with the driver.
"I've happened to lose my way, could you point me in the direction of the nearest town?"
"Hmm, there are no towns within 2 days' walk of here, but if you continue the way we came from you should be able to hit a roadside inn before sundown."
With the quick exchange of words, Tom was ready to leave when he heard the sound of a child crying as the carriage driver's smile turned into a frown.
"Frank, go quiet down the product! Feel free to use the whip this time!"
In a second, Tom's eyes turned cold as he confirmed before doing something drastic.
"Is slavery profitable nowadays?"
"Oh yeah-"
Not needing any more words than those to confirm what was going on, Tom drew his rifle, bringing it to bear on the female guard and squeezing the trigger after turning the fire select to semi automatic.
Hitting his first target in the heart, Tom dropped to a knee as he readjusted his sights, hitting the second guard in the head before anyone else could react to what was happening.
"Wha!- ARG!"
Cutting the carriage driver's words short as he shot out his kneecap, Tom quickly made his way over to the driver and grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and tossing him down on the ground before he started dragging him by what hair was left on his balding head around the back of the carriage.
"ARG! AWW! WHY ARE YOU!?-"
Making his way to the back of the carriage Tom saw what he had expected and shut up the carriage driver with the butt of his rifle, breaking a few of his teeth before he spoke up.
"Keys, now!"
"Wha!- ARRRGGG! O-OKAY OKAY!"
Cutting any kind of protest short by Stomping on the driver's destroyed knee, Tom barely waited for him to reach into his pocket and pull out a keyring before stomping on his chest.
Grabbing the keys, Tom quickly opened up the steel reinforced door at the back of the carriage to find what he had been expecting. The inside of the carriage smelled like a mix of urine, blood and rust, and its dark, damp interior held a total of 6 passengers linked together and chained to the walls with crude iron restraints. Not minding the confusion he was coursing, Tom quickly started freeing the 6 slaves inside, finding them riddled with wounds from whips while skin had started chafing off on their arms, feet and necks where they had prolonged contact with their metal restraints. Leading the slaves outside the carriage, Tom freed them of their arm and leg restraints using the keys he had relieved the carriage driver of, but when he made his way to the metal collars around their necks he came to a stop.
(No locks, in that case how?)
Turning his attention back onto the carriage driver who had started crawling away from him, Tom quickly caught up with the cripple before grabbing his injured leg and dragging him back before pulling him to Tom's own eye level with the collar of his shirt.
"How do I unlock these collars?"
"T-that's! Only I can-"
"Then fucking do it, hurry up!"
Cutting any protest short with a kick to the knee, Tom observed how the now full-on ugly crying carriage driver held his hand up to each of the slave collars as they magically unlocked and dropped from the necks of the 6 very confused slaves.
"T-there! I've r-released them! Now let me go f-free!"
Ignoring the carriage driver's pleas for mercy, Tom brought up his rifle, but instead of shooting the driver dead he switched the fire select to safe after a moment of compilation and brought down his rifle.
"T-thank you! Thank you!"
Thinking he had been spared, the carriage driver started thanking Tom for his benevolence, not realising that he was making his way to one of the dead escorts to relieve them of their spear.
"W-wait! W-what are you doing!? NO STO!-"
Planting the spear right in the carriage driver's left eye socket, Tom twisted it for good measure before hoffing up a loogie and spitting on the carriage driver's corpse.
"Fucking slaver."
OBJECTIVE_STACK_PRIMARY_UPDATED:
FIX THE WORLD. STATUS:_0.000000000103%_COMPLETE.
500_POINT(S)_AWADED.
NEW_ACCOUNT_BALANCE=510_POINTS.
NO_SECONDARY_OBJECTIVE(S)_IN_STACK.
END_OF_REPORT.