Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

The meetup was in the park, but in an area he'd usually avoided in his routes due to more traffic and less forest cover. But it did have way more drinkable water fountains, as the more 'official' running area. Their location was basically just 'brain-marked' like an X he marked on a map interface.

Gotta love the innate Mini-map.

A dozen people were in sight, jogging mostly, as he followed a path past many hedges and precise landscaping contours. When he caught sight of Highfive, he was already there with Bo, a girl he made look like a child in comparison.

She was short and slight, wearing a black sports bra and striped track pants, with unruly dark hair somewhat confined into a short ponytail. She had her hands on her hips, talking close and low with Highfive, when he upnodded over to Jack's approach from a distance. Bo turned and stared silently. She had the face of a natural, perfect deadpanner, likely not easily moved by much of anything. As he got closer, he saw she had a singular dark tattoo on one shoulder, extending a bit down the arm, of a wheat grain, with leaves and multiple spikes. Around her neck was what appeared to be a simple stone bead necklace. Her fingernails weren't long, but were still painted in black and white patterns of different kinds — polka dot, stripes, waves, etcetera.

Another dark-haired bean. She seems like an interesting person, but wears nothing on her sleeve like her big friend. Aside from a tat. Heh. But there is no inherent trust or camaraderie in this one.

Highfive, in athletic shorts and a muscle shirt, met him first to bump hands from up and down, before turning to gesture at Bo. "Jack, this is Bo. Bo, this is Jack."

Jack waved his hand and tried a polite smile. "A pleasure."

Bo stared a moment longer, then her eyes dropped slightly. Otherwise, she hadn't moved much. She finally reached a hand out in the offering of a fist bump. Just as Jack was moving to bump it, she asked, "Are you sure about that?" in a surprisingly rich voice, lightly accented in something he couldn't place. She flickered her eyes to meet his again. Hers were dark brown, almost black.

Jack paused as she spoke, but completed the bump without issue and shrugged nonchalantly at the question. "Yes."

Her only betrayed reaction was a sharp exhale from her nose as she dropped her hand and looked back at Highfive. "Let's get this run going already."

Highfive rubbed his hands together, nodding. "Hell yeah! That's the enthusiasm I like to hear! Let's get our sweat on, baby!" He immediately began running off. "Woo!"

"It wasn't enthusiasm," Bo said, at far too normal a tone for Highfive to acknowledge. She turned her head back Jack's way, not quite giving him something expressive, but that blank gaze was definitely showing a measure of long-suffering exasperation.

Jack chuckled and held his hands up helplessly, then began running after him. He could soon feel and hear her running close behind.

Highfive turned around and ran backwards momentarily. "How about we work up a sweat to get it started?! You two race! Match the slowest when I call it!"

"Whatever," Bo muttered, but was soon flying past Jack at a sprint, her necklace bouncing with every stride.

Jack picked up his speed to catch up. They both went around Highfive, who was smiling like this was the most entertaining thing on the planet.

Down the hard, brick-colored, rubberized path, they ran, and Jack caught up rather quickly to Bo. Immediately, she glanced in his direction, and her little legs picked up more speed.

I'm not at my top speed yet. Hrm. Should I even try to beat her? Doesn't she have some sort of confidence issues?

"Come on, Jack!" came Highfive's mocking voice. "You can do better than that, bro! You got a bum leg or something?! Hey, no running if you're injured."

Jack did not respond other than to grunt. And then, he sprinted harder, passing up his small, skinny opponent, who glanced at him with what Jack regarded as a glare behind the deadpan.

I'm sorry, okay? This is reality.

"Bo!" came Highfive's call. Predictably. "Let's go, let's go, let's go! You can catch him, come on! Push, push, push! I know you got it in you!"

"No, I don't, asshole," was Bo's reply. "I'm almost half his size and density, and he has physical improvements. I can sense it."

Hmm. Interesting…

Highfive was unmoved. "Little peeps got speed, baby! You're lower to the ground! Go, go, go! You got this, Speedy!"

"You're a frag-off, Fiver." They all collectively passed two sweaty joggers, who appeared to be amused by the overheard interplay chasing them down.

"Hustle, hustle, hustle! Move those iron legs, Bo! You gonna let him beat you, huh!? Is that the competitive spirit that earns a coat?"

"I hate you deeply, Fiver," Bo said acidly.

Jack could hear a brief, cut-off yelp, and when he turned to look, Fiver was stumbling forward, almost face-planting but managing to catch himself. "H-hey!" he called as he recovered. "No using powers! Not cool!"

Bo had no real sign of emotion or guilt on her face, but somehow, there was satisfaction in her eyes.

She also caught up a bit thanks to the distraction — and a bit because she was actually pushing herself. Jack turned around and willed his legs to move faster, hoping to Momma Mem that Bo didn't-

"Don't trip, Jack," Bo said not far behind him, in between heavy breaths. "I wouldn't… okay? And I don't need… the suspicion."

"Okay," Jack replied. Yeesh. Imagine having the power of apparent bad luck. Someone spills a drink, sees her, and wonders. Not fun.

He barely stayed ahead of her for a while longer, even as they got into their fastest strides, but his breathing was fairly steady despite his heart pumping hard, and hers was getting labored. He began to pull away, his 'short-term endurance' significantly superior. He got a few meters ahead…

"Jack wins!" came Highfive's call from behind. "Let's pause for a minute!"

They slowed down and met off to the side, everyone having worked up a little sweat at the least, even Highfive.

Bo was breathing quite heavily, hands on her hips as she glared balefully at Highfive. It was only slightly different from her normal expression. "Trying to… prove something?"

The big blond grinned and shook his head. "Nope. Just inspiring you. As always."

"Yeah… you're my biggest… dumbest… inspiration… himbo."

Highfive showed his hands and bowed shamelessly. "I'm super honored, thanks."

Bo sucked in breath as she turned her eyes to Jack. "Nice run. Good job on your muscles."

Jack wasn't entirely sure how to take that. He gave a thumbs-up. "Thanks. You too."

"I don't even have muscles."

"Sure you do. But I meant the run."

She stared. "Could I ask your Fitness grade?"

"If I can ask yours?"

"Bargains? Are we at market?"

"Maybe we are. You don't strike me as someone who gives information freely."

"Maybe I just haven't struck you hard enough yet." A brief pause. "Excellent. Sub-par. I fell off and I'm working on getting it back up."

"Good, here. Halfway through, supposedly."

Her face betrayed a faint frown. "You'll leave me in the dust, soon, like Fiver and Light."

"I think that's the straight dope, yeah. But I won't be satisfied until I achieve Peak."

"Hell yeah!" Highfive exclaimed, as he grabbed Jack by the shoulder and shook him, then pushed him. "That's what I'm talking about, right there!"

"You better keep training, Blondy," Jack teased. "We'll race in the same cat one day, and I expect you at your best."

Highfive shook his head and clapped boisterously in appreciation. "Ohhh! Listen to that sweet, delusional music! Dream on, big bro!" He grinned, though, and held his fist out for a bump. "One day, for sure. We will. We better."

The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

Jack bumped it, and they both nodded to each other in understanding.

Bo was eyeing them both like two strange animals that showed up on her porch. She sniffed and averted her gaze, muttering, "Two peas in a pod…"

"Hey," Highfive said, giving her an admonishing look, half-serious, "Jack resents that. I might be a pea-brain, but this man? He's a damn genius."

Bo exhaled again. "That's not what the phrase means, Fiver…"

Highfive shrugged and then rubbed his hands together. "Alright, gang, let's get back out there! I want us running hard again for another spell, but we can take it down a notch. Bo, you set the pace."

"Sure. There's nothing in this world I'd love more." Flat, even delivery delivered, she flashed her eyes at them and took off running for the narrow track.

Jack exchanged a glance with Highfive. Silent amusement. They then took off after her.

They ran for a while at a high speed, until Bo called it off and ran to the side to drop bodily into the grass for a break. Highfive ran in place, while the other two caught their breath silently. Once they were suitably recovered and hit up a nearby water fountain, they started into a more long-term jog. Thanks to being Nons, this became pretty much a state they could maintain indefinitely.

Jack found himself running alongside Bo, with Highfive doing higher-speed circles around them to get his 'good-good speed' going. Jack got a closer look at Bo's tattoo and decided to compliment it, possibly stirring up a conversation. "Nice tat, there."

She glanced at him briefly. "Yeah. Symbolizes fertility. I'm very fertile."

Jack missed the ghost of a step. When he glanced back at her, he was certain he saw a thread of amusement, and ultimately, that it was an easy joke, possibly one to quench curiosity. There were, after all, much better symbols for that than a damned wheat bundle. Weren't there?

In glancing at the symbol again, he noticed something else particular to it, which was not easy to see. The skin was definitively upraised. More than it should be for an old tattoo. That tickled his memory.

A brand, isn't it? An inked-over brand. Shit. Well, I could be wrong. If right, though, she's from some frag-off independent plat. More than a few had some screwed up shit happen out there.

There was a famous mini-series special years ago called The Case Against Free Will that detailed never-before-covered raids and shut-downs, effectively declassified by Central out of a desire to discourage abuse by independent states. It supposedly instigated more reforms about 'check-ups,' and more required provisions in constitutional contracts, but any given government was always great at hiding their sins. Until they got caught, they could hide in the cracks of Memoria's 'required' limited perceptions.

In any case, Jack didn't comment any further. Unless he was entirely off-base, he doubted Bo would respond well to that particular subject being broached. But various things did hint she was from the boonies. She also seemed a bit older than most cadets, including Highfive. He couldn't be sure, though.

Instead, he began, "So. Bogus Pocus the Disruptor."

Not looking his way as she kept jogging, Bo replied, "So. Jack."

This made him chuckle. "I'm missing a lot, aren't I? Especially the name."

"I don't care about the callsign. But we're at market, remember?"

"Right. Am I the prime rib?"

"Maybe a T-bone."

"I'll take it. And you?"

"A chicken nugget."

Jack laughed. "Selling yourself short. At least a full wing. Anyway…" He glanced around to make sure no one else was in earshot. "Controller. Shaper of Metal. I hear it's broad."

"Sounds like it. Monkey Wrench. Has to be in operation. I make it not. For a time."

"Ha! An iconic name. Almost sounds like a handle, itself."

"They all sound like tools to me."

"Well, I have met some tools."

"Not my point, but yes."

He studied her for a moment. "Tool or not, we gotta get our coat, right?"

She glanced at him, and he had the sudden feeling she was seeing right through him. But she looked back ahead a moment later. "For me, it's a long story. Complicated."

Probably code for 'I'm not talking about it with a stranger,' more or less. "You see something more when you look at people, don't you?"

"Among other things."

"And that's power-based?"

She took a moment to reply. "I have to see what jams in order to jam it. Or break it — but that's harder for me. My thing is broad, too, but trades for limits on raw power."

"Wow. Yeah, that makes sense. So you can see weaknesses?"

"Maybe. But you're forgetting something."

"Yeah?"

She glared at him demandingly. "Market."

He grinned apologetically. "Sure. Sorry." He took a moment to consider what to reveal, looking ahead as he jogged. He had to slow down because he ended up having a lot of words. "Sensory-wise… I can sense metals. It's like… harmonics. Metaphorically speaking. The grand music of other special materials, their unique tones and frequencies, all outside of me, and all somewhat different. What's in me reaches out like… part of the orchestra. Brother substances calling for direction. And that's what I do. Heh. I wave the baton, listen to the rhythm, and… direct."

She was quiet, and when he glanced back, she was staring at him as she listened intently. So caught, she averted her eyes back forward.

Feeling a little awkward, Jack cleared his throat and asked, "Reasonable trade, at least?"

Her eyes flickered a bit. "Yeah."

Jack held in a chuckle as he grinned. Somehow, and who knew why, but he'd scored some points in her book. "I could share my Primary Mutation, but I'm kinda paranoid about it at this point. Especially here."

"Smart. A potential advantage when most have it all leaked to everybody and their plumber for years. You could trade with other people and get my information. More than I would give, probably."

"I wouldn't trust them with whatever I'm trading if they would trade that, though."

"When you have a team, the ego mixes. Intelligence is shared, and everyone else is part of a rival group. To some degree."

"I don't have a team, though."

She glanced at him briefly, but left it at that.

Hmmm. This girl is an order of magnitude more subtle than Highfive. And mercenary, for that matter. Likely to wonder already if I could be an asset? I'm not so sure she cares enough, but maybe.

He decided to be bold. He bridged through his Mini-Mem interface and sent a request to her for Mem-text access. He figured that was more likely to be comfortable for someone she didn't know well than the voice version.

As soon as the request went out, Bo nearly stumbled, and her head snapped around at him in a surprised glare, with her mouth hanging open as if ready to spit vitriol. Surprise and possibly murder in her eyes? He wasn't sure. It was as much emotion as he'd seen out of her, in any case. But she said nothing, her mouth closed without speaking, and she finally shook her head.

The request was approved, and immediately she sent a text. <Fifteen minutes and already worming into a girl's brain. Precocious.>

Jack couldn't keep from laughing out loud. He saw Highfive look over at him from it, upnodding like 'What is it?!' with a grin, but Jack shook his head and waved him off. Meanwhile, he sent, <I figured you couldn't resist a secret.>

<Consider your secret the market value of this precociousness.>

Jack had to fight to stop laughing, which was only making Highfive more curious and suspicious. <Though I'm new, I think I'm going to level up very quickly. Might be age-based somehow. I'm level 1.5 so far. And technically, Highfive slipped your level, by the way, so now we're even.>

<Of course he did. I did suspect this, already. I think age is simply a factor. There are exceptions. Everyone is different. But as that goes, I learned quickly, too. Relatively. A few years. But don't ask. I'm cutting you off for now.>

<Understood. Bo is only available in small doses.>

A turn of her head, a deadpan expression. <Did you miss how small I am? I'm literally one, singular dose.>

Jack burst out in laughter again. He couldn't help it — she cracked him up.

Highfive came running up. "Okay, just what is going on over here with you crazy kids?! Come on, share, share!"

"I will not be sharing," Bo replied, "and neither will Jack. It's what you get for pulling that bullshit race out of your ass."

Highfive scoffed. "It was good! And no way would Jack leave me hanging!" He glanced between Jack and Bo, who neither of them offered any signs of surrender, and his expression quickly grew crestfallen. "Aww, come on, guys, you're killing me, here!"

They ran a while longer in relatively meditative silence, focused on nothing more than the path in front of them. Finally, Bo called for a stop by yet another water fountain.

Jack checked the time and saw he had just enough time to shower and grab a bite before a scheduled intensive workout. He wanted to make damn sure he cleared off that last 'debuff' of negative Inner Energy staining his stat bio. "Hey, Fiver, Bo," he called, "was a great run, but I'm going to go shower and eat. Was great meeting you, Bo."

She waved her hand without looking, while sucking continuous gobs of water arcing from the fountain.

Highfive bumped hands with him and clapped his shoulder. "Thanks for coming out! Glad you got to meet her. You two hit it off."

"We did?"

The big man nodded with raised eyebrows, flashed a grin, then turned around to walk toward Bo, holding out his arms. "Are you going to drink until you pee? Come on, you're not done yet! More running!"

Bo ceased her water intake to glare up at him. "Like hell I'm not done, Fiver. I need NPs. Just got a message."

Highfive pulled two mini-energy drinks from a pocket and shook them in front of her. "That's why I brought thee-eeese!"

Bo maintained a glare with a faintly sour, sullen expression.

Chuckling to himself, Jack left for the elevators.

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

Jack asked for an intensive, murderous workout for the special session, and that's what he got. His trainer, Mike Tower, worked over every muscle in his body and was cheering him through it like an older, balder Highfive, bristling with hyper-positivity. He had supplements ready to go and, of course, Infused energy drinks to stay fueled up.

He was a very happy and sore camper when it was done. It had been a while since his workouts made him feel like that, so he knew it was a worthy gain. He focused on eating in between the rest of his evening activities, and when it was time to turn in, finally — after a last-minute smorgasbord of 'saved varieties' in the fridge — he slept like a baby.

When he woke up, coated once more in thin grime, he felt stronger, and he was breathing differently. His oxygen efficiency had noticeably crossed perhaps its final threshold.