Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

Being processed through Operations was indeed a rush, nearly a whirlwind, but he was led by the hand the whole way. The disguise-making was conducted in rows of chairs vaguely like in a salon, but the agents were in full body suits, goggles, and light breathing masks. He had to take off his jacket and shirt, and a large contraption hanging down from the ceiling completely encapsulated his head and suctioned at his neck and shoulders. He was asked to close his eyes and keep them closed until instructed otherwise, as lights flashed. He was also instructed to keep his hands open, palm up, as something else encapsulated his hands.

It took several minutes, and his face often tingled or itched. But any itch was shortly followed by relief as something 'zapped' his face. It definitely gave him something of a haircut, but he never felt or heard 'cutting' at all. Funny-feeling zaps hit his neck, too, penetrating from the front and causing little involuntary utterances a few times. The larynx, he realized. His hands only felt the lightest, tickling stimulus, making him twitch here and there.

And then it was over, everything retracting and opening up, and him being told to open his eyes. A mirror was right in front of him. It was shocking to see a different face. Not completely off the wall — he could be his own, slightly older brother, if he had become a 'faceless' Memorial Agentus goon.

A Man In Black. Hell yeah. Hello there, Agent Steel!

"Hey Mikey, he likes it," said the muffled feminine voice of his technician. "That smile is what I like to see from my handiwork."

"Look at that ugly mug," came a voice vaguely reminiscent of Sato.

Jack looked over and marveled to see Sato in the next chair over, transformed into 'Sato's younger cousin,' and looking rather sharp. "You actually look way better," Jack replied. He blinked at his own voice. It sounded different. Deeper.

"Thanks, I might keep it," Sato replied. "You should keep that voice. It's pure butter. Need you to DJ my wedding. I'm thinking the name 'White Chocolate' would be perfect for you."

Jack chuckled — which was also weird to hear. "Getting married?"

"Not yet. Thrice divorced. It's inevitable."

"The fourth time's the charm?"

"Are you kidding? I don't have that kind of luck, Rookie."

After this, the whirlwind next took him to his locker, again nearby Sato, where he changed into a seemingly tailored suit with the iconic black jacket and slacks. The inner armor was something like a flexible t-shirt with heavier reinforcement over the vitals. There was also a harness for the customary concealed weapon — a double-barreled, combination handgun-stunner. Over these three layers, Jack also had his special Jacket as a trenchcoat. With all the dark layers and being indoors, he was glad he was a Non who didn't feel such minor things as 'stuffiness' anymore.

He did have shades, though, unlike a typical Man In Black, he didn't particularly need the smart aspects. Still, he put them on to check himself out in a mirror with the full kit on. He even pulled his gun and pointed it. "Freeze, dirtbag!" he whispered.

Sato came up behind him and patted his shoulder. "Really into this, huh, champ?"

"What, you didn't do something like that the first time?"

"I won't be answering that, Rookie. Don't believe any extraneous hearsay, either."

Jack smirked as he holstered his weapon smoothly. "Okay, I got that out of my system."

"Good," Sato replied, and thrust a helmet into Jack's midsection. "Now put this on and let's get out there before Bermuda starts breathing fire."

"She does have a bit of a temper when she doesn't get her way…"

Jack began putting on his helmet, then realized it was stuffed with some kind of neck piece that had to slide on first, so he pulled it outward and began awkwardly struggling to get it on, his System-enhanced dexterity of no apparent help with the puzzle.

"Saw it already?" Sato asked, incredulous. "I'd ask for that story sometime, but maybe ignorance is bliss."

"Maybe so… Ugh, how the hell does this go?!" He continued struggling to get the neck part on correctly.

"Wait, you didn't detach it first? Bad move. Here, I'll give you a hand, big guy…"

Eventually, they were both sporting their helmet-faceplate combos, entirely armored over every inch aside from the hands. The high-tech faceplate was the standard modern type designed for minimal reduction of peripheral vision, thus being one large transparent piece wrapping around, and one of the reasons some liked to call the Mems 'the Faceless.' Supposedly, every piece of the specialty plastic was hand-crafted by the Non inventor and plastics specialist, Synth-Sis, who was also a co-founder of the Polylectric brand, original inventors of the electro-stunner. In any case, the material was strong as shit and rather precious, as he understood it. Losing a helmet was a big no-no.

They hurriedly exited the area as soon as he was done, with Jack noticing they were the last in the locker room. The elevator deposited them on the sizable rooftop of Central, where a veritable army of Q-23 levitation vessels were either waiting or already zooming off in something of an awe-inspiring sight to Jack. The fleet housed sheer 'eliteness' that put most conventional military displays to shame, ultimately; the best of the best, shipping out en masse. And Jack — Agent Steel — was part of it.

The CFLEX chat pinged, which made Jack clench a bit — even as he was jogging to his vessel — because he was expecting to get ball-busted for being 'late' with his lame rookie inefficiencies.

Bermuda: <Timing is on point and per expectations, Team. Nicely done, especially those of you I needed out in advance. Surprisingly, in some cases. Have you been doing drills, InSite?>

InSite: <Don't distract me. I'm multitasking even to my limits right now. Let me get some of this shit out of the way first.>

Bermuda: <Roger that. No chatter on the channels until InSite pings again, Team, barring critical need. Make use of sub-chats or DMs, otherwise. I am available for DMs, as well.>

Jack breathed a sigh of relief as he ducked into the Q-23 and rapidly secured himself in a seat, even beating the veteran Sato in this regard, thanks to the speed difference, if just barely. He nodded to the other two present — heavily armed and armored gents already strapped and waiting. Everyone exchanged intros verbally, which confirmed the two as agents Thomas and Lopez. The fifth passenger seat next to the pilot was occupied with another black-suited and helmeted type, but they didn't offer any details.

Jack noticed there were also AR labels to identify everyone. The pilot was 'Rootman,' and the one next to them was 'Sander.' The field leader, probably the localized shot-caller.

The vessel launched promptly once everyone was secure, headed right for the edge of the dome that surrounded Nimrod at the top of the tower. Jack immediately got various notifications about 'feeds' around the Q-23 — he could tap into the cameras and see from basically any angle from the outside of the vessel, plopping the feeds wherever he wanted in his field of view, or into the faceplate display. He went with the latter, making a little 'window' upward that still allowed him eye-level natural vision.

The process out from the dome was the same as ever — going through an airlock. He saw each Q-23 ahead of them hit a different panel of the dome and disappear, with never much of a delay involved. Indeed, they also passed through, never stopping, despite their reduced speed; the outer wall opened right after the Nimrod-side wall closed.

From the outside, in the persistent twilight with Earth's sun hiding somewhere, the Q-23s appeared to randomize their routes chaotically, all going different directions, apparently on their own business. Some traffic likely wasn't even related to their missions. It was constant anyway, and doubly so in the mornings.

"Bright and early, boys," Sato said on the team comms. "Our scumbag is probably still snoring his high away right now."

"Lucky him," Thomas replied. "What's the scumbag pay rate, anyway? I like to sleep in."

"Pretty good, actually. But I hear they don't cover Dental."

"Damn. Forget it, then. I have a sweet tooth. I'm also not into experimental drugs."

"I'm afraid that's a deal-breaker, Thomas. Sorry if you started your application already."

"Ain't much direct sunlight left to the season, sir," the pilot, Rootman, said. "Gonna see some full darkness in under a week."

"Yeah, and just what we need with this kinda shit going on," Lopez said. "Crazies love the Siberian Summer." It was another way of saying 'winter' in New Babylon, which had the darkest period mid-May through late-July, and the sun hiding until September or so.

"Don't worry about it, Agent," Sato replied confidently. "We'll wrap it all up lickety split to send the sun on its way. The Crazies'll be all locked up before Momma puts the hot cocoa on."

"Roger that, sir."

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Jack knew that to just be pep-talk for the enforcers. It was unlikely they believed it themselves, but he supposed the words held power. In any case, Rootman's commentary was probably meant to say 'who knows,' in regards to their target's activity levels. Citizens who didn't work and holed up could keep bizarre schedules.

The vessel flew down over the NBP and its vast cityscape, quickly growing as they zoomed closer and closer. They avoided Downtown widely despite the target District being fairly close to it. A lot of apartment complex highrises were in the area, giving quicker access to just about anything the heart could desire.

Jack cracked open the mission specs in his head to check the building. Golden Terrace Apartments. Not one for the Basic folks, but in the reasonably affordable range, he'd heard. Why, he had no clue. It was in high demand with few open spots at any given time. It had a nice incentive: a three-tiered, open-sky platform set on the top, with lots of contained playgrounds, a bit of park-like area, some food options, and multiple pools on the roof. Geared for people with kids.

Of the three other occupants, one was Ms. Windtaker's cousin, who appeared to be staying there, and the other two were unknown friends or accomplices of Shreddy. How the apartment was paid for wasn't clear. Some might be a child incentive, as the first two children born were still under programs.

The vessel slowed and came to a stop instead of approaching as they got to the target holding zone.

"Checking over the extras, Steel?" Sato asked.

"Yeah," Jack replied. "I take it we're waiting on synchronicity?"

"Yep. And InSite to do his magic. People in these places can spread info about us 'Mems' lurking around pretty damn quick. A guy like Shreddy might even have paid lookouts or some paranoid shit like that. It isn't enough to go in a disguised vehicle, but no point in taking extra chances parked and jerking around in their building like this."

"It's crowded as shit, too," Rootman muttered unfavorably. "Ain't nowhere to park, no way, not up top. I'd be lodged illegally, blocking avenues."

"Good thing we got a special parking permit," Thomas said, patting his electro-rifle lovingly.

"Ideally, you'll be going in through the lone window, Thomas," Sato replied, "and the rest of us maybe could, but not if the child is in there. We don't want her location to be the access point for the whole group, even if it's advantageous. Too much crossfire risk. We want all the attention in our direction."

"What if the mother comes running in for her daughter first thing?" Jack asked.

"Such a photo moment is not going to work, I'm afraid. She could be a threat for all we know, and our 'after care' protocols require separation until we sort out her degree of involvement and culpability. Lesser of evils sort of thing, I guess."

"Surgeon's work ain't often pretty," Rootman commented.

Sato added via Gestalt DM, <We don't know if Shreddy shared some of the weird drugs. Remember that she could also be in a warped state of mind, if so. Deranged.>

"Roger that," Jack said for all of it.

Sato added, "If she doesn't obey commands promptly, or tries to run, she gets zapped. Simple as that. We aren't playing house; we aren't screwing around. Family time is over for them. If they're lucky, they'll be reunited in a few days."

For the first time, the oddly quiet Sander chimed in with a clinical voice. "Unlikely, with the information I have. But it isn't anyone else's concern present."

This triggered a more sober silence for a period.

It didn't last long.

"All teams, go, go, go!" came some sort of bulletin-like message from Memoria herself, saturated with emphasis and gravitas. Jack heard it both in his head and his ears, one way faster than the other. "Operation is a go! All teams, proceed now! Go, go, go!"

"Shit!" Rootman exclaimed as the vessel started to move. "We're missing final intel!"

Lopez shifted in his seat and muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

"That's how it is sometimes," Sato said with steely calm. "Alright, here's what we're doing-"

InSite's voice suddenly erupted in their comms. "The child is in the room playing; rest are main room watching TV, passing a joint. I'll try keeping eyes and say if it changes. InSite out."

"Hell yeah!" Rootman called as he began accelerating. "We're on, baby!"

"Perfect," Sato said. "Thomas stays in the vehicle to interface with the drone back outside. The rest of us take the elevator. It's standard lev-tech, and we have it hijacked. Currently appears to be inoperable to others. Brace or kneel inside because the speed is going to get amped. Lopez takes the lead."

The building zoomed quickly into view before the vessel slowed right as they came to the 'third from the top' story, which had a parking entrance with a big red LED 'FULL' above it, but was nonetheless open. They passed through, and Jack briefly saw an apartment employee off to the side, waving their hands negatively in their direction. He briefly was seen to drop his hands and guffaw at seeing what sort of vehicle it was — not to mention the speed they were going — before they were zooming down the lane for the elevators, out of sight.

"Damn it," Lopez muttered, fidgeting disfavorably. "Already bloody noticed."

"Low probability assessed for the monitor to be a spy," Sato replied in bored tones. "Last name Rootman, no less."

"No shit!?" Rootman asked, surprised. "Small world. Some cousin, maybe. Ain't no damn spy for sure, sir!"

They came to a relatively smooth stop right in front of the elevators. Lopez cursed nastily as he saw there was someone over there.

Nonetheless, they poured out of the automatically-opened door. "Nice flying, man," Jack added as he exited, both having noticed it professionally and meaning it.

"Thank you kindly, sir," Rootman replied.

The sheer quiet with which they operated and moved, even the vehicle itself, meant the guy by the elevators didn't even notice them hurrying up behind him. He was a bit portly and had a duffel bag over his shoulder. His hands were on his hips in between repeatedly punching the button for the elevator in frustration, which was plainly flashing red and not cooperating for him. Above, bold red text in LED read, 'UNDERGOING MAINTENANCE — PLEASE USE STAIRS' and was also flashing.

This is a high-rise, though. That could be like twenty flights or more…

Just as they were nearing, the man began to turn around-

Lopez lifted his electro-rifle and fired, zapping the man with what looked like a straightened bolt of lightning, and sounded something like a crackling electric arc — not loud enough to carry far. With the zappage maintained on him for little more than a moment, he crumpled immediately to the pavement with nothing but a brief, involuntary 'uhh' sound.

Jack was too stunned to say anything.

Sato grunted and said in annoyed tones, "Lopez, get in the elevator. Steel, drag the guy in with us."

In a span of a few breaths, Sato and Lopez filed into a suddenly opened elevator door, and Jack hauled the guy in from behind and under his arms, making sure his duffel bag came with him.

"The hell was that, Lopez?" Sato asked as legs were just crossing the threshold.

"Precaution, sir. Didn't need him yelling, getting on his phone, so on."

"I don't recall citing the zapping of bystanders without provocation as our procedure."

The elevator's doors closed and, almost immediately, the elevator dropped with a strong g-force. Jack fell on his butt immediately, as he was not braced. Lopez was kneeling, and Sato was standing and braced in a corner.

"It's obvious this shit is too important to play around, sir," Lopez said. "I never hear Memoria herself on the horn. If that's not a message to bring our A-game and pull out all the stops, I dunno what is. If there's discipline for what I did, so be it."

Sato sighed. "We'll deal with this later. Do not zap Shreddy with that thing — or anyone else — until they display a tangible threat. We need to do the next part by the book." He pulled out his combination pistol. "Get ready, Steel. Check your piece for settings and get your other weapon ready."

Jack took his meaning, reaching for his memorite and channeling/collapsing it into the Jackette as he left the unconscious man where he was and got into a crouch. He pulled out his pistol and switched off the safety, ensuring it was dialed toward the 'electro-stunner' setting.

As the elevator was already slowing to a stop, Sato said on the comms, "We can flip the electronic lock on the door, but there might be an extra physical one. They'd likely be metal. Agent Steel, I assume you could handle that, if so?"

"Yes, sir," Jack replied. "I could even tell you whether there is or isn't without looking or being detected. But only metal."

"Not much chance otherwise," Lopez added. "There aren't many plastic screws or latches out there." Off-comms, he muttered, "Thank you for the Blessed, Mother."

I'm a blessing, eh? How flattering.

"Just to reiterate for everyone," Sato said, "when we get in, Agent Steel, focus on disabling their guns first and foremost. Then you can pivot from there as the situation suits."

"Roger that," Jack said. "It's the best opener to keep you pristine and comfortable, after all."

"Yeah, gunshot blunt trauma in the gut makes me pretty cranky, I'll admit."

The elevator came to a stop, but the doors didn't yet open.

An unfamiliar voice came over the comms. "Cameras show someone waiting on the up elevator. It's rising now; shouldn't be long. Open anyway?"

"No," Sato said immediately. "We'll wait."

"Roger. Doors will open when clear."

"Mother Memoria, bless our path," Lopez said off-comms, in apparent prayer, "and free it of interruptions. We are here to serve you foremost."

Well, she's indeed the one who put us in this position. Jack wasn't terribly put off by the prayer, odd as it was to hear such things again after meeting the literal persona it was directed at. Religious people weren't exactly rare in the service. He'd just never been very devout, himself.

I wonder what he would think about her cooking for me in my kitchen. Heh. Actually, he'd probably like it. 'The goddess humbled herself as a mother to one of her Blessed children.'

The doors of the elevator finally opened, and they poured out with Lopez in the lead, moving fast and quietly, leaving the unfortunate citizen bystander behind, moaning and twitching.

They went down apartment building hallways stacked with doors, turned a corner, and passed more doors still. None of them opened, thankfully.

Their target door was highlighted for Jack by his AR interface — even as he was moving up to it, he cast out minute amounts of his memorite across the space and slipped it through the sparse cracks of the door. Utilizing Interpret, he located the metal bits present in the wood: the door handle, hinges, elements of an electronic deadbolt lock, and two latches, one high, one in the middle. The one in the middle was long, reinforced steel, and basically a pole against the length of the door and the wall.

Nice. Could maybe resist a battering ram, even. Guess my finesse and multitasking training gets a little field test, then, eh? Okay, Jack. You got this, easy-peasy…

(Nice.) Patreon Link, Next Chappy — Chapter 69: The Mettle of Training