Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

InSite was one of the minority that didn't clap. He glanced at Jack briefly, and then the ACKBOSS gestalt flared with the comment, <You'll have to excuse me, Jack, but I'm a bit too jaded for that.>

Steel: <No worries. I'm just glad Light isn't leaving me hanging.>

Lighthouse: <Never. Ins is just duty-bound to go against the grain a little bit. You know, here and there, remind everyone he's a D-Head.>

<Yes, my wood prefers a rougher finish.>

Jack had to stifle a laugh. The joke synergy was just uncanny. <Heyoooo>

Lighthouse: <Holy goddess, dude, seriously?>

Sato: <An oldie but a goodie>

Insite: <Anyway, I conform where I need to. If I didn't fit, I wouldn't be here.>

Steel: <Is that another innuendo?>

<Would you believe me if I said, 'oops?'>

<I don't think I should, no.>

Lighthouse: <Definitely not. Now can it, everyone, would ya?>

Agent Bahama raised a hand to quiet the applause. "Let's get down to business. As a summary for those just joining, Operation Kettle is about an enemy you should be well-briefed on: The Phantasmal Reach. The Dreamer itself may be a direct manipulator, but it is more likely indirect through one or more of their agents working an angle from across the pond in its name. Some agents on Homebody, Team Alpha, predated the project itself, investigating and attempting to infiltrate an unknown conspiracy that was inevitably lit like a powder keg once the groundside Station Argus Waste Center Incident — previously covered up — was exposed.

"This then exposed the heavy involvement of the Mulk family, namely the most powerful, connected, and influential of them feathered through many stratas of our civilization, including the Farmers Alliance, Southtower, Sky Atlantis, the aforementioned groundside paramilitary organizations — of prior-to-date sterling records, by the way — and several independent NB industries, of note the preeminent private security agency, Red Ribbon Securities, and the Mulk-Hanshaw Legal Group."

Jack's ears were exceptionally perked to this revelation. His uncle had mentioned the Mulks as among those possible to have taken Neex. That connected the dot to the 'incident' as likely to be the one where Neex's vessel was attacked.

"This conspiracy was found to be one far from self-interest at the core, which is usually what you'd expect," Agent Bahama continued. "On the outside, yes, resources and power were thrown around to those predisposed to such hooks. Rewards for pawns. In digging out the intelligence from key individuals taken at the Eden Extraction Incident, however — and then the intel gleaned from what follow-up actions we took — we uncovered a more sinister truth."

The hologram above flashed into existence, showing some sort of 3-D feed, and a flashing green text injected over Jack's vision asking, "Connect?" He quickly tapped it to agree, and he was somewhat stunned to have his vision entirely hijacked and crammed into someone else's eyes; his ears were also immersed in the holographic vision, which was a bit disconcerting.

Leaning on the railing of a large, expensive, floating skiff, a wine glass in 'her' dainty hand of manicured blue nails. An older man next to her in her field of vision, much taller than her small frame, and he was also holding a wine glass he was just lowering from his lips. They mutually looked out on New Babylon's lovely speckled glow in the twilight, the tower as always rising high and swollen above, dotted with seemingly a million lights. They were above, but outside the city's limits, able to see the full vision of it.

The man smiled down at her, likely from something she'd previously said. His eyes seemed intense. Enthralled. His mouth opened and spilled forth words. "Oh, I'm more than happy to tell you, darlin'. Everyone's impressed with you, and none more than I. It's wonderful to meet another who sees so eye-to-eye! And so young. An awful lot in a small package, aren't you? We can do so much for each other, I'm certain of it. Mmn."

He looked out, nodding to the tower. "That tower is one to avarice and pride beyond what any man or woman could dream. So much truth was withheld from the people! About everything. About the nature of our very reality. Things hidden behind a veil of convoluted lies. Her the greatest liar of all. The greatest betrayer."

He sighed, shook his head wearily, and took another sip of wine. "Where to begin? Huh."

"I suppose what burns in me to know," said the viewpoint person, in a young, sprightly voice full of passion, "confirming all of my suspicions and setting me toward this enlightenment, is what makes her the betrayer? I know this: she is not some pure entity, nor does she protect us! She exploits us! Does she not?" Her tone was animated and heated.

Jack almost lost track of what was going on, such was his shock to recognize the voice — it was Délight! Blatant and distinctive, even as she'd changed her pitch. It was unmistakable. Holy fraggin' hell!

But he couldn't dwell on it, because he needed to stay absorbed in what was going on to gain the understanding… even as it made him suddenly queasy.

The old man grimaced at her, as if suddenly angry along with her. He looked into his wine glass and swallowed. "Few can handle this enlightenment. There are… methods… to more fully understand. But I will answer you as best I can. History as you know it is false, as is the name 'Memoria.' Her real name is Zarpanitu, and she is in fact a goddess, but her hidden, corrupt husband rules in truth from the shadows as she endlessly births her corrupted children, glutted, pregnant, and fat on the riches of indirect, twisted, false worship. Her husband is, of course, Marduk."

The man scowled here, showing a sudden, intense hatred as his gaze shifted to the tower once more. "The hidden usurper, the unrighteous patriarch, ripping away authority from the rightful mother and ruler. Killing, killing, killing, all the rightful gods, stealing destiny from their hands. He was strong, it's true. None could stand against his horrible prowess. He slew his father, slew all the righteous avatars of justice and revenge summoned to stop him. Bathed in the blood and gore of deity, he forged this horrible, totalitarian empire and took a new, brilliant, beautiful consort among the daughters. This one was the great betrayer who pretended to be the apple of her mother's eye — a lover of the arts — but lusted after her power as well as lusted for her mighty half-brother, Marduk…"

His convoluted diatribe trailed off as he wallowed in this mythological melodrama, his eyes seemingly lost in the story. Fevered. He believed every word. He took a sip of wine and rubbed at his forehead.

"That's horrible!" Délight cried with equal dramatic gravitas. "Who is the rightful mother, after all this time and degradation? Everyone deserves to know!"

The man looked at her, and his face softened and smoothed. He sighed and shrugged. "His mother, of course. Everyone's mother, so to speak. The mother of all creation! Tiamat. Marduk slew her and used her chopped-up body to remake the world in his image — or so he thought. Her will remained, my dear. From her corpse, pieces malformed into reality's contours, it grew into many new reflections and avatars. A counterstroke buried in his abuses! Terrifying ones, yes — born of a goddess's righteous rage! Filled with poison instead of blood, to pierce the heart of these vile, usurping creatures. Marduk bit them again, yes, as did his consort, but no longer without price! Poison filled their bloodthirsty maws, which served them right!"

He laughed, obviously impressed by the trickery. "Their dominion waned, and they retreated in isolation to lick their wounds. Here we are, in the supposed pole. A round Earth? Ha! Just another ridiculous lie. Now, they build cowardly armies out of machines to defend themselves, but they cannot escape judgment. Tiamat's will comes for them and she will have her revenge. She'll take back Destiny and her people, too. The third and final Purification Ritual, where the believing faithful will be purged of all the toxins of the unholy. They'll be made righteous and immortal. Tiamat, finally, will have the loved and loving brood she always so desperately desired. She loves us, my dear. Loves you."

Délight gasped. "Truly? I always wished for such a mother. And to live forever! Is it not what we feel meant for, in our very bones? This is so much to absorb. Incredible. Terrifying, too."

"Yes, my dear, but all will become clearer with time. In truth, I'm condensing things!" He chuckled and cleared his throat. His eyes looked Délight up and down briefly. "Wisdom takes time. And ritual. Speaking of Purification Rituals, our first, for women, is, ah, well… a little unconventional by the thinking of mundane society."

"Oh?"

"Mmn. Yes, in light of the Mother's desires, in divine reflection of creation, one who is Twice Holy bonds with a daughter in ritual — symbolic of the mother, whom we all must worship and adore. They partake of the ecstatic substance together, and he imparts a seed of the divine to grow as it will within her, in symbolism. This pleases Tiamat, and she purifies the daughter, as the son is already purified and pleasing, having submitted first to her."

The author's tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"A seed? What- Oh." Délight tittered nervously. "Oh, I see, now. How very audacious!"

The creepy 'priest' chuckled. "Indeed, such things are, aren't they? But meant for us, make no mistake. They are beautiful, sacred acts. Shall we retire from this vision of evil before us, and discuss purification more in depth?"

Délight was briefly distracted, covering it with a sip of wine. "Hmm? Oh, in a minute, I'm sure, but I did have some friends I wanted you to meet, if that's alright?" Her tone betrayed a bit of annoyance.

The old guy looked perplexed, smiling uncertainly. "Friends? On the boat, or elsewhere?"

Délight pointed. "Look!" A rapidly approaching army of drones was surging up. Délight tossed her wine, turning away, hands going to her ears as she closed her eyes, and everything flashed bright white.

Jack found his senses suddenly and jarringly dumped back in his body, which made him take a sharp intake of breath and look around in momentary bewilderment. He wasn't the only one. Sudden jerks, yelps, and exclamations came from all around.

"A sex cult!" a woman called in derision, "Of course they wrapped gross shit like that into it to get assholes like that laid!"

"It's a messed-up world out there," a guy answered. "Glad my daughter has her head on straight."

"And Flat Earthers, no less," someone nearby muttered.

"Just what is a sex cult, anyway?" a young woman asked. "I mean, why? I don't get it."

"Forget it, Scaper," someone called to her in exasperation. "Research it on your own time."

"Okay!"

"I'm just sad I didn't think of this first," the 'mistress-having' guy from before said, in mock regret. A mixed bag answered this from the room — groans, clicked tongues, and barks of laughter.

Jack couldn't get over the weirdness of seeing through Délight's eyes. I can't believe it's her. But Augur did say she was mission-going. Ugh. The words that guy used. This is a taste of the disturbing underbelly of civilization, eh?

Agent Bahama raised a hand to quiet everyone down before continuing. "Our agent was actually annoyed by the decision for cavalry to move in at that point, citing she could handle it, but she is rather new to the life, as well as being unpredictable at times. If her rookie involvement offends you, by the way, take note her powers are passive, work visually without a radius, and don't have that 'vibe' psychics seem to trigger in the Deranged with the newest evolutions. You'll be seeing more of this asset for these sorts of things, rest assured. We have precious few choices right now. In any case, we still obtained voluntary info from this terrorist scumbucket, Mr. Gary Mulk, even in custody, such was his supreme weakness for our agent. Now. Moving on."

The vid screen flashed with some image of an old, crude clay pictogram, showing a typical image of the god Marduk wielding a bow versus a serpent entity. Bahama said, "If you are familiar with Babylonian mythology, you may have heard some parallels in that summary. Naturally, they've twisted it around to suit the cult's focal entity, Tiamat. We don't yet know the origin, as we have yet to take any figureheads. We thought Mr. Mulk might've been, but sadly that isn't the case. He's a supporter and financier.

"Whatever it is they do, it warps the mind, even making memories merge with fantastical dreams. Dangerous hallucinogenic cocktails are involved, deliberately opening mental doorways. We know he attended irregular meetings with other members in masks and robes, with voice changers. His superior was 'Madam Usum.' Gary is likely suspected to be compromised, as instructions never came again. He stated he had broken a blackout protocol to recruit our agent. He hadn't been worried, figuring his hands were clean of the prior troubles and all his bribes secured in the right places. Nonetheless, he admitted — outside the influence of our agent — that he had ultimately screwed up. We may have caught him in part because he is sloppy."

The screen changed to show three scenes from agent viewpoints; in one, a lady talking from what appeared to be her own couch, while smoking an herbal cigarette; in another, a dead body was being processed in an alleyway of downtown Atalanta District; in the last, a slurry of drones fired electro-stunner arc-beams at a few men walking out of a warehouse, dropping them.

The feeds spawned three more of these, and then three more, as they shrank and expanded. The agent said, "Our enemy tied up some loose ends, but suffice to say we secured numerous trails to follow in the timeframe of their consolidation. It doesn't appear that the Tiamat cultists have gone completely Scorched Earth, despite this, hoping to preserve their core above all. We could round up every single Mulk in existence. Some of them are involved that are yet to be exposed, having no direct involvement in the blatant crimes groundside, and so forth. Their legal group is suing various agencies on technicalities — or trying to, anyway. We arrested a judge who was in their pocket.

"We have certain strong leads ready and waiting to execute that I won't get into at large, but I mention it because we are also certain we do not have our central mastermind located. This figure is perhaps the greatest source of the Derangements as well, with some alarming and critical capacity for spreading the infection far more effectively and purposefully than usual, if thankfully not en masse. And that, assembled Agentus, is the principal goal and directive of this task force. Though there are stages to the raids, we're all on a clock to dig as fast as possible before the group goes too deep underground."

He gestured suddenly with a hand at someone central in the seats directly across from him. "You may recognize Agent Jetset is here with us. One of our finest veterans. Say hello to your cavalry, Agentus."

'Hellos,' some sarcastic, erupted, along with some hoots and applause, as Jack turned to see the 'jokester' guy of before raising his hand to twist it side-to-side in mock noble reception of the praise, while wearing a big grin. He looked to be maybe in his thirties. Jack marveled to see a masked hero's face once more. Jetset was a well-known, stupidly fast-flying Non of some type of air manipulation, but not at range. He rammed things and caused explosions in his wake, sometimes, as he was already zipping away. He was known for his unusual golden helmet with a prominent angular crest out of the back, and wearing an old-school aviator bomber jacket with fur on it.

"He's here," Agent Bahama continued, "to quickly move on aerially-accessible priority targets, whether to subdue or erase — if necessary. Or possibly extract agents. A last resort to keep us alive in risky propositions. Memoria cannot be everywhere at once."

Jetset finger-gunned with both hands as the applause died out. "Heeey, let's get that bastard, eh, boys? I humbly offer myself to take over his duties for the good of our wicked empire, too. I'll set 'em straight — or walking funny, as the case may be." Another smattering of laughter, groans, and the like answered this.

"You're completely disgusting, Jet," a woman said darkly.

"You won't hear me denying it, Serenity! If anyone knows, eh?"

"Everyone would prefer you keep your vomit-inducing commentary to yourself."

"I'm with her," a guy nearby said in teasing tones. "I've known you forever, and you're like a bowl full of worms. What a fraggin' sicko! Shame on you."

"Well, I don't mind being used as bait if the catch is fine, my man."

Scattered laughter resounded, followed by eruptions of chatter.

Lighthouse pinged the ACKBOSS gestalt. <I hate him already. Never meet your heroes, I guess.>

Sato: <Sometimes. Chromey was pretty legit.>

InSite: <Are you kidding, Light? Look at that smile. I forgive him already.>

Lighthouse: <Whatever, man. We won't have to work with him, right?>

<Possible, but low probability. Want the skinny, by my reckoning? He's here to protect the psychics. Memoria both must jeopardize them and can't. Catch-22. She'll incinerate anyone who harms one hair on their heads. There are tons of small teams for this because the whole damn Agentus is stretched thin. He's being tied up this close to home as insurance.>

Agent Bahama made a startlingly loud whistle with his fingers to immediately quiet everyone. "Enough screwing around." His voice was admonishing, acrid, yet it did not raise, perpetually calm and collected. "Keep it professional or I'll hit you with a demerit. I damn sure don't care who you are, nor should you expect that to matter in this organization. We're equals here, including when it comes to respect."

His gaze appeared to include both Jetset and Serenity before sweeping to the rest. "Operation Kettle commences, Agentus. We're going to rip apart a cult and cripple The Dreamer's plans. Let's get to it. Your pairings are about to materialize via the interface. There are primary teams of various sizes and a lot of pairs underneath those umbrellas with distributed leads, tasks, and missions. Those of you who are new, rest assured, you'll be paired with someone who isn't and can give you the specific intel you need to do your job. I know I'm going to hear moaning and groaning about some pairings and team divisions. The necessary balance is what it is: just suck it up and power through. Break to your teams and pairings, say what needs saying, and get out there. Remember: professional. Good luck."

Jack's vision immediately lit up with flaring text.

There was more, but Jack's eyes couldn't unfocus on the 'Oversight Leader,' his vision becoming a tunnel.

Nng- What?!

A woman suddenly stepped in front of him, where she had to have been close in the first place, wherever the hell she'd come from. She was in a bland agent uniform without the jacket — thus, white dress shirt and black slacks — and had short, reddish-brown hair framing a face free of makeup. She smirked at him, and his recognition finally clicked. He was speechless, his mouth hung open.

"Welcome aboard, Agent Steel," Agent Bermuda said, hands going to clasp behind her back. "I'm looking forward to working with you."

🌴 Patreon Link, Next Chappy — Chapter 67: Quirky Allies