Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

What a damn mess. I hate The Dreamer.

Harvesting various sources of metal around the apartment, Jack thoroughly restrained the compromised Agent Lopez over the course of a few seconds, binding his wrists, forcing them behind him, then fusing the bands together. Simultaneously, he did the same at his ankles and knees, and then collapsed the mostly re-constituted Jackette around the agent's helmet, blinding him and muffling his ongoing panicked cries for Shreddy's death. The muted echo was easier to ignore.

One-track Derangement, at least. Caught in a loop. Which disorder is that? Not sure. Maybe just expanded fanaticism.

For the gag order on Shreddy, Jack formed a cable out of spare metal, utilizing Transmute: Quick-change to get it done in mere moments. Shreddy began bucking and resisting immediately when the floating cable came his way, staring at it like a snake and calling, "Keep that fraggin' thing away from m-"

Jack cut him off with a cable jammed right in his mouth, and with no small amount of satisfaction. He wrapped it around and left him glaring murderously — at Jack, now. He must've deduced that the guy just standing there as two guys wrestled, and metal morphed and flew around the room, was in fact the source of metal powers.

Sato rose and took stock of everything, panting and grimacing from his recent efforts and rolling his shoulder with his other hand holding it, obviously taking a bit of injury from his wrestling match with Lopez. He had been losing that match before Jack stepped in.

"Sorry you got dragged into a shitstorm like this, Steel," Sato muttered. "That being said, I'm glad you're here. No clue how this would've gone, otherwise."

"Probably even shittier," Jack admitted. "You're alright, at least? No weird… thoughts or anything?"

Sato blew air out of his mouth. "Other than wanting to kill Shreddy, too? Nah. Can't afford going crazy. Getting my pay docked is what's against my religion."

Jack just shook his head that Sato was still slinging out quips at a time like that. He didn't have the heart to match it, for once. Probably how he stays sane, though. "Understood, sir."

"So, what do you think? This guy has something worth a damn? He's a tough nut to crack, I'll tell you that."

Before Jack could reply, Sander popped back on the comms. "Reinforcements are imminent, but Shreddy has to go. Steel, take him to the window for extraction. You're coming, too. Thomas, move the girl to the other bedroom to avoid Shreddy. Sato, hang there. Keep a gun on Lopez and make a report in CFLEX."

"Roger that," Jack replied. He glanced at Lopez and felt regret. He'd hoped to ask if he could try Q-Loth on him, but priorities were priorities, and he couldn't just do it, not when things were so fragged over from chaos already. Another asshole going against protocol was the last thing the mission needed.

On the comms, Sato exclaimed, "Damn! I got pulled from Shreddy? Eh. Roger."

"The assessment is that he's beyond you," Sander said. "Maybe anyone. We're working that out. Make your report."

"Take note," Jack added, "that I'm leaving custom metal bonds on people. Tricky to remove."

"It's fine, Agent Steel. Priorities. It'll get handled."

Jack took his Jackette off Lopez's head, wincing as it induced a new screaming fit from the man. "He can't be allowed to live! He's got a demon! A demon, you frag-offs!"

Sato had had enough. He slapped Lopez's helmet hard. "Shut the hell up, Lopez! Get your shit together, man! We came here for questions, and you violated everything you believe in to screw us over! Talking about Memoria?! Her orders were to question him! What is wrong with you?!"

Lopez was suitably cowed by this, looking up and shaking his helmeted head but not replying.

Meanwhile, Jack utilized the Jackette for more material to enshroud Shreddy with a supportable frame for levitation — the man wasn't happy about it, with muffled cries and jerky movements coming from him. Jack covered the bastard's head over, too, to blind him mostly, and then began hauling him away, Lopez's renewed protests following behind him. Sato had stopped arguing, probably because he needed to focus on his report.

Ms. Windtaker was just waking up, groaning and struggling at the bonds wrapping her wrists and ankles. As Jack had to pass by, she looked up at him and asked in a voice crackling with hysteria, "My baby! Where's my baby?! Please! Is she okay?!"

Grimacing behind his helmet, Jack said, "She's safe, ma'am," as he passed by into the hallway.

"Let me see her? Please, officer? Hey! I'm sorry! Please, please let me see heeeer!" The last was a shrill whine, and it descended into wracking sobs.

As much as it pained him, Jack didn't reply and kept on walking. Mission, priorities, orders. He couldn't help her with the bed she'd made — or the bed that had perhaps been made for her. After all, Shreddy wouldn't take 'no' for an answer to hide out there. Whatever the truth was, it wasn't the role of 'Agent Steel' to sort it out.

As more agents — likely those who would sort shit out — could be heard to come through the door, shouting out their presence, and Sato was using the CFLEX gestalt chat to summarize events, Jack levitated Shreddy out through a shattered window, onto a fire escape, and over a waiting platform into a 'containment sphere' type of converted Q-23. He was instructed to go with his charge into it, and it soon closed behind him as he dropped Shreddy down on the floor and took the only seat, strapping himself in quickly. If there was a wreck, Shreddy could just suffer. Or maybe Jack would help brace with his metal control.

Eh. I'd have to. Whatever he's worth, he's what we got out of that mess and needs to be preserved.

The whole situation was more than a little surreal to Jack, even a bit ironic. It wasn't long ago that he'd lamented seeing Neex packed into a space much like what he was in, and Jack hadn't been much different, his 'escort' from Eden being effectively a forced detainment. Now he was the one doing the detaining and crushing of questionably-led lives. When it came to Shreddy, it felt quite justified and needed, even downright righteous. When it came to Ms. Windtaker and her daughter, it felt like complete shit.

Guess we gotta take the good with the bad.

He was patched into new comms and camera feeds for the vessel. They didn't last long, however, as the vessel was shooting hot and hard for Nimrod. But before long, Jack saw they weren't headed directly there, instead going for a 'flying fortress' hovering above the tower. It was basically an aerial aircraft carrier — a heavily armed and armored, long, narrow boat of multiple runways and umpteen touchdown pads. He'd been to them many times for this or that reason, often for quick refueling crossing through inner territories. They were totally dependent on levitation and rarely journeyed beyond five hundred kilometers from the tower. This one's name was 'Madagascar.'

He suddenly recalled Lindsay, when he'd first been training, had mentioned how he'd have to transition from his own small 'solo vessel' he'd been used to his whole life, to a 'capital ship' of much greater numbers and systems.

She was right. Literally. Here it is, like a bomb going off in my lap. Shoulder to shoulder with people in a global fight without even knowing their names.

The vessel bypassed the runway and pads to make its way through a shifting side panel into a small hangar bay. A couple of armed Agents Exemplar escorted Jack and Shreddy deeper into the ship, into a typical detainment/containment area, and then into essentially a larger version of the spherical cell he'd just been in. The struggling Shreddy was strapped down securely to a central chair and fitted with a massive helmet that had cables extending down from the ceiling to connect to it. It obviously blocked out his vision, hearing, and ability to speak. Jack began retracting his metal bonds as Shreddy was restrained conventionally.

Through the airlock, three figures came — Agent Bermuda and two Nons in full kit flanking her, one a tall gent and the other a thin woman. The latter soon pressed a button in her helmet, and the faceplate retracted to reveal the smiling face of Scaper as she said, "Looks like we might work together after all, Agent Steel. Let's cross our fingers, huh?!" She held up her very already-crossed fingers to him.

Ehhh. This lady…

"Settle down, Agent," Bermuda said while glancing sternly at Scaper, before pausing in front of Jack and offering a nod. "Agent Steel. Good work today; I'm afraid it's not quite over yet. We've found lots of intriguing morsels so far in this operation, but failed to find the golden egg." She glanced at Shreddy and nodded to indicate him. "This man's exposure level is extreme, and by some mechanism or another, the will of our enemy tried to use Agent Lopez to execute him. It might or might not be by a conscious agent, considering we now have multiple lines of evidence that he indeed survived an assassination attempt. It's a… puzzle needing unraveling, for one thing."

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"My hypothesis," Scaper began, "is that Shreddy has partitioned and weaponized a portion of The Dreamer's powers for his own unique vision for propagation, warped though it may be. He is in conflict and doesn't understand how to actually use it. He was able to force a reaction in Lopez, but only chaotically. Perhaps Shreddy managed to defy The Dreamer in getting away from them in the first place, out of a psychological break for self-preservation. Maybe he was already on the edge of batshit insanity and difficult to control…"

"Regardless," Bermuda continued, "we strongly believe him to have vital intel on three potential counts: A, on the very nature and methodology of Derangement spread; B, on the nature of these drug cocktails and how they are so effective, and C, the identity of the ringleader. The last is only deduced based on the presumption that his case is so potent. Perhaps Shreddy was targeted for a greater rank in the cult, but proved unstable and better used as a 'knight' — as the chess analogy goes. Greater than a pawn but unable to serve higher."

Scaper suddenly clapped her hands together loudly, grinning ear-to-ear with her eyes gleaming. "So! We've gotta go in, despite the dangers, despite the fact my brain got cooked doing this shit before!" She giggled. Meanwhile, Bermuda closed her eyes, sighed, and shook her head. Scaper continued, "You're here because you and your contact can soften him up and provide protection for me. Or, if not, turn the effect on me as the second-to-last rescue failsafe."

"What's the last?" Jack asked.

The other Non raised a hand up. "That would be me. Agent Wired at your service." He flipped his hand, and glittering thin wires began to flow out of his fingertips like tiny, wriggling worms. "I can decapitate this shitstain in a fraction of a second. What you might call a 'hard disconnect,' eh?"

Agent Bermuda crossed her arms and lifted her chin, looking over at Shreddy. "Among other potential puzzles to solve, I'm here if that call needs to be made. We vastly prefer otherwise."

Jack studied her as he tried to get his bearings about it all. He did the same as Scaper — retracted his faceplate. It felt good not to be looking through a screen again. "While running a huge team at the same time?"

She met his eyes coldly with her vibrant green irises. The look felt rather familiar. "You doubt me, do you, Agent Steel? Perhaps because of our initial encounter?"

Lips at his ear and a hand on his shoulder; a whisper. "Memoria isn't the only one…"

Jack jerked around to see a 'copy' of Bermuda behind him, but in her outfit of before, with the skirt, the 'captain' style hat, and the winged sun symbol on it. She grinned and tipped her hat to him while wriggling her hips. Meanwhile, the two Nons could be heard chuckling.

The short-haired Bermuda now behind him finished, "In many places at once." The 'copy' promptly flickered jaggedly and disappeared.

Jack narrowly avoided blurting, 'You're a Non?!' It didn't really fit. Maybe it was some shit like Agent Sato — she was Quirked.

Who knows? Other abnormalities could exist.

When he turned around, Bermuda was already continuing. "Agent Steel, can you safely query whether that ability of yours will work on him? Without getting stuck in an ordeal or the like?"

Jack took a deep breath to clear away Bermuda's games and focus on the task at hand. "I can try. I think I've got to touch him, though. I'm quite certain my 'contact' will not just force me into something. Or anyone else, for that matter."

"Proceed."

Scaper rocked up on her toes as she shook her clasped hands. "Ohh, this is so exciting! I just know it's going to work out!"

Jack got a gestalt DM from Bermuda. <Scaper is a bit complicated. An unusual side-effect of treating the worst of her PIMAD exposure successfully nonetheless left her permanently like this. Boundless curiosity, not much fear of consequence. Not ideal. But here we are. Please watch out for her.>

<Will do.> Jack replied back. <I wonder if she can be treated eventually, too.>

<I doubt it. It's rooted in her personality at this point. Other than her being a huge headache, horrible at confidentiality, and needing constant oversight and correction, she's not an exposure risk. In fact, she's possibly highly resistant to PIMAD now.>

<Understood.> Jack turned toward Shreddy… but, as always, he couldn't resist. <At least I finally slid into your DMs.>

<Real cute, Mr. Laker.>

Jack smiled to himself as he put his hand on Shreddy. He wasn't trying to activate Prey's Redress, but he did have a kind of passive 'attempt' to stir the Archon, as he'd done without even trying initially with Screamer.

A shudder from somewhere beyond answered, and his mind's voice spoke in the custom of Q-Loth's brand of communication. In this case, it seemed to translate dismissiveness. This one is deeply divided and disturbed. A danger both ways to attempt repair, lacking anchors, lacking known foundations. Will remains unclear. Vegetation is no worthy destination for the gradient of costs.

Jack understood 'both ways' meant him and Shreddy. He did his best to extend his thoughts 'toward' Q-Loth. "There is a psychic. A mind specialist, but they might need our help. Facilitation and protection. We seek to help many others through what his mind contains, rather than him specifically, though The Dreamer did this to him and sought to kill him. Perhaps a root of rebellion and justice could be found within him, to aid his tormentor's downfall? To curse his destroyer?"

There was a pause, like he caused 'ripples' in water that were allowed to settle. Then there was a brush stroke through his mind, meaning unclear. Possible. Together, we are stronger; entwined, there is hope. I must touch and make the triangle of a gestalt between. May will prevail.

Jack lifted his hand and turned, nodding to Bermuda. "It looks like we have a chance for this to work in gestalt, in a triangle."

Scaper did an emphatic fist bump. "Yes! I knew it! I told you! Hell yeah!"

"Do what you have to do," Bermuda said. "I'll be monitoring as best I can."

Scaper hopped over to the other side of where Shreddy sat, touched his shoulder with one hand, and held out her other hand to Jack with a smile. "Nothing for it but to experiment, hmm?"

Jack nodded and took her hand as he also touched Shreddy's shoulder. The world went black.

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

A black void around them. He was still holding Scaper's hand, but she was now in a form-fitting jumpsuit of sorts, and Jack was in plainclothes. One of his old outfits, with his favorite jacket on over it.

Ahead of them, in the distance, was a strange, glowing mass — a blob of some indescribable substance not quite flesh. If shifted around frantically like a giant amoeba struggling through an ocean. Flowing around it, and even poking through it in many places, was something darker, like an inky predator or parasite. It felt like the amoeba was being dragged downward and eaten at the same time...

"That's a representation of Shreddy's fragged-up mind," Scaper said, her voice possessing a powerful echo in that place. Her eyes were locked ahead. "A visualization aid showing the chaos. Naturally, the black mass represents The Dreamer. Our challenge is to stimulate the viewpoints we want and locate them in the mass, but this looks hella difficult with the corruption blocking every route and potentially keeping him dead and dumb. That's where-" She turned to him and blinked as she looked him up and down. "Nice outfit! Very civvy. It looks good on you."

"Uh," Jack stammered, "thanks…"

"As I was saying: that's where I'm hoping you come in. Or, that is" — her eyes got wider in excitement — "the other one around with us, right!?"

Jack felt an answering ping as Q-Loth began to roil and shift upward from some deep abyss. "Right. I'll warn you: this is probably going to be weird."

She gave a mild gasp, and her hand squeezed his. "Do you promise!?"

Before Jack could do much more than frown at her, Q-Loth's tendrils whipped out close and shot into their minds, enshrouding them almost instantly in staunch reinforcement. As Scaper yelped and her hand tightened fiercely in his, an enormous mass shot past them, branching out and around the amoeba, half surrounding it. It was strange to actually see a representation of the tendrils — they were almost entirely transparent, but with tiny nerve-like innards, glowing in a shift of colors like the sheen of oil. He was fairly certain it was, in large part, some hallucination of Scaper.

Scaper's wide, wetly shimmering eyes took it all in with wonder, likely 'seeing' and perceiving more than he did. "They're beautiful!" she exclaimed, but in a rapturous whisper. "It feels… so-"

"Time is of the essence," came the voice of Scaper and Jack spliced together. "The Dreamer will be kept occupied and distracted as long as is feasible; the collective will is buttressed. Facilitating energy across this divide is finite — we must execute with efficiency. Let us proceed."

"Right!" Scaper called, shaking herself and pulling her hand from Jack's, seemingly with reluctance. "I'm going to steer his consciousness, in a macro kind of way, toward the things we want. Information, experiences, so on! Meanwhile, we gotta find where he actually is within his own confused, divided, and chaotic mind. His conscious viewpoint. I hope that makes some sense! Eh — you'll know it when you see it!"

She held two hands out, and energy coalesced into an odd-looking rifle, which she thrust into Jack's hands. "Paintball gun! Just a tracking representation pinpointing our spot! We split up and fly around this mass, and if you make out where he is, where there is hyperactivity, tag it before it changes! But don't get absorbed by an irrelevant portion, okay? Not good. And if you take a shot and miss somehow, I'll feel it, stop what I'm doing, and rush over to you, because that spot is likely better to work with! Alriiight, let's make this blob sing, baby!"

She went flying away immediately, a blur flashing across the distance to the amoeba.

Jack felt a bit bewildered as he looked at the rifle in his hands. He was floating in what felt like air more than water. He kicked his feet. "Uhhh… how do I fly, again?"

🍽 Patreon Link, Next Chappy — Chapter 71: Mere Shreds Within