Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

As Jack began struggling to 'will' himself forward, he paused and marveled at what he saw ahead. Great activity.

The tendrils surrounding the 'amoeba mind' struck out, wrapping around black rot and ripping it out, all in one swift, coordinated movement at many angles. The first strike was enough to make him wonder if Q-Loth couldn't succeed with Shreddy after all — massive amounts of the 'growth' were ripped off and fell away, perhaps even a fifth of it immediately.

But it exposed far more holes than could be seen on the initial look, like kicking an ant hill open to expose occupied tunnels. The black mass shifted in response, and separated portions morphed and reconnected as if magnetized. Shreddy instinctively and subconsciously pulled the corruption back to him. He wanted it as if it were a blanket to hide in.

The tendrils also did not attempt to entrench and 'fill' — at least not in the way Jack had seen the process with Screamer. This was more of a mimicry of that, with a lack of true strain. Tunneling and getting pushed out deliberately. It was a feinting process. Wasted effort, but judiciously avoiding wasting too much at any given spot.

The mass had ultimately lost very little ground. Enough to panic, perhaps, and try to hold on to as much as it could, while fighting.

Yeah. This looks daunting as hell.

A new energy suddenly burst from the dot that Scaper had become — an intense blast of pink hit a clear section of the amoeba, and it shivered and recoiled enough to ripple through the environment. The blast shot around the entire structure, engulfing it in a new glow with an apparent physical pressure in that place. It contorted the shape of the thing, squeezing it at the most vulnerable portions. Jack also could make out vague hints of speech, in Scaper's voice, he thought, but like hearing through a wall, too muffled to discern.

The amoeba jerked around violently, quasi-tentacle growths flaring out to rip at Q-Loth's tendrils or simply attacking the space around it blindly in all directions.

Scaper began zipping around it, using her powers to squeeze and expose new zones of the structure like she was handling a squishy stress ball. She avoided any blackened areas. The pink energy sheath stayed connected to her by a thin conduit, though she kept shifting the exact route it took. This was due to the black rot constantly trying to grow over the energy sheath and follow it. It was distracted fighting off the tendrils, but it seemed to be getting increasingly seeking in its sweeping extensions.

Likely senses Scaper as a vulnerable source to go after. It's all rather bizarre to make this the visualization of things, but I guess it works?

Jack finally found his speed, directing his will and imagination to fly over to the great vastness of faux-flesh, aiming for an angle opposite to Scaper. The amoeba was huge, and the center at any given time wasn't accessible, just the surface.

He kept his distance at first, mindful of its sudden branches of this or that blob structure. But he didn't feel like he could see anything, nor likely hit anything with the paintball gun. Likely, the limited range of such a weapon was intentional to place him in the correct position to find what they were looking for.

He began swooping in and out, trying to get a feel for the safest method to give himself a chance to find something worthwhile. Here and there, the transparent blob of faux-flesh could be seen to show greater definition within, superimposed with visions of street corners… warehouses… apartments… faces of people… but all remained stuck in foggy outlines, unmoving. He knew these weren't the right places, weren't alive and active with Shreddy's consciousness.

While Jack was distracted staring at a scene and trying to make people in a room out, a shift occurred, and a part of the blob struck out at him — what appeared to be a forest in the dark, and a hint of something deeper and darker, almost opaque. Jack flew away quickly, retreating from the whole mass…

It missed him narrowly, sweeping right in front of him. He saw what looked like bodies the viewpoint was facing amidst the trees. The darker portion was further beyond, as if in the process of slowly swallowing the scene from a distance, coating it in something a bit more than mere darkness in how it glistened, as if coated with a viscous liquid.

Very creepy. Warped contours courtesy of The Dreamer? The one who reaches and takes thought like territory.

He moved out further away, then circled the area. The vastness of the surface… representative of the vastness of a mind… Their task felt impossible. Meanwhile, Q-Loth's tendrils were plucking at shadow-stuff that was reacting less and less. The Dreamer was beginning to figure out what the actual threat was. From his vantage, he couldn't see Scaper, but he got the sense she was zipping around and shifting 'pressure' constantly.

"It's gunning for me," Scaper exclaimed in frustration. "I'm half trying to avoid it, cause it's getting quicker and more predictive. On top of that, it's beginning to put effort into reinforcing Shreddy's resistance to my manipulation. This shit is looking bleak!"

The combined voice that was Q-Loth spoke. "Time is short. He must be ensnared soon from where he is hiding."

"I know that! I can't draw him out, damn it! He's trying to ignore me. His mind may not even be thinking what we need him to. Sorry, but direct control isn't my specialty."

Jack looked down at the mass. Draw him out, she says? "Hey, Scaper, can I… communicate with him?"

"Uhhh… I can make that happen — like a mindscape bullhorn in his ear. Not sure I'd suggest it, though."

"We're desperate, right? He knows me, he hates me as his captor. He doesn't know you at all. See where I'm going with this?"

A great, big, mental sigh. "They're not gonna like me using you as bait, Steel, even if you suggested it. Even if your friend is around to protect you."

"Good thing you're always in trouble, anyway, right?"

"Stop listening to that Sato asshole! Ugh! Well. You have a point. Go ahead and address him. Get closer. Not too close. Please don't make me regret this." Even as she spoke, he saw her form appear in the distance, flying from around the other side, shifting her 'line of control' linking her to the amoeba just before a mass of black worms wriggled up the previous one to get to her. The speed with which the attack had come was uncanny.

Jack flew down closer, about as close as he'd come when he'd successfully avoided the last counterstroke. He made sure he was far from any of The Dreamer's corruption. Summoning the full command of his 'voice' in that place, Jack called tauntingly, "Hey, Shreddy! Hey, you motherfraggin' walking STD trash pile! Agent Steel, here, reminding you that your pathetic life is ooooover! Thanks all to me, punkass! Thought you should know." The whole amoeba shook as soon as he began, getting worse and worse in jerky movements as he continued. "It really makes me laugh when I hose a rancid piece of shit like you! Ah hahahahaha! Yeeeeah! Eat shit, scumbag bitch! Hahahaha!"

The incensed amoeba began to shift and contort itself, and suddenly a deeply red-glowing 'nub' poked out from dead-straight to Jack's perspective.

Shit. Maybe I overdid it. Time to jet! He moved away as fast as he could.

The whole thing shot out at him like a rocket. It was so fast and massive, and he so relatively small, he had about as much chance of avoiding it as a fruit fly did the tongue of a frog. Somewhat uselessly, Jack shot it with the paintball gun, which promptly got absorbed and exploded, leaking blue paint throughout the 'scene' coming at him.

An instant later, he was sucked right into it, the distinctive sense of a deeply enraged and crazed Shreddy coming from within.

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Jack was back in the apartment he'd carted off Shreddy from, but everything was muddy and streaked with blue, like he'd been merged with a watercolor painting with water splashing on it. Furthermore, Jack wasn't Jack — he was Shreddy, and he was snarling like a feral animal and throwing a punch at a generic agent's face, albeit one with a curious black trench coat on. No helmet, either.

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Hey, that's m-

In the strangest of sensations, Jack felt another body outside of his 'viewpoint' get punched hard in the face — and more like getting punched in the face back in the day before he was a Non. Pain shot through his jaw, and he felt a queer kind of halfway senselessness. On the other hand, he couldn't actually go unconscious, because he was… Shreddy.

Uhhh…

Agent Steel — the one 'he' was punching — went reeling, and by some bizarre tangential mechanism, Jack kept him from sailing to the floor. Instead, he staggered sideways. As Shreddy moved in for more, Jack thought to have Agent Steel pull his sidearm.

He fumbled around awkwardly due to the oddity of control and only succeeded in grabbing his own crotch with the wrong hand.

My other right?! Son of a-

This only angered Shreddy more, who considered it a crude taunt. "You think you've won, copper?! Hrrrraugh!" He charged Agent Steel, slamming into him and carrying him to the floor, causing another stunning impact, making resistance a difficult measure.

Shreddy's hands dealt another punch, and then went around Agent Steel's throat, in a bullshitty 'dream-like' sort of fast-forward where he couldn't do much of anything. Almost instantly, he felt Steel's body already painfully struggling for breath and wheezing.

"How's this, copper?! Huh? Talk shit now! Talk shit now!" He squeezed harder. "Gonna make your fraggin' eyes pop! Who's the bitch now?! Huh?!"

Trying to find some modicum of focus between two viewpoints, one in a hideous haze and more or less forced into suckage, Jack made Steel's mouth move, trying desperately to speak, as if for something important, and pulled with equal ferocity at the iron-gripped hands that were at his throat. It was the long-shot idea he had, such as it was…

Come on, Shreddy… You're Mr. Special, aren't you? Even in acting out your rage fantasy, aren't you a little curious?

Sure enough, Jack managed to get enough breath to speak. Wheezing, he summoned up a sudden, bloody rictus and said, "You forgot… about my jacket… around your face!"

Jack didn't even have to do anything, as Shreddy's eyes looked down in horror at the jacket and, by the power of intrusive thoughts and bad memories, it shlorped itself entirely around his head and face. Shreddy immediately rolled off, kicking and bucking, eliciting muffled, panicked cries.

Jack was completely blind, sadly, but he still had control of Steel's body. Unsure of which direction Shreddy was, as well as which hand to use successfully, he made Agent Steel slam both his hands down in either direction, as hard as he could. One of them cracked with horrendous pain into the table… but the other hit soft flesh, right in Shreddy's unprotected gut. Shreddy had the breath knocked out of him and curled into a fetal position.

Still possessing his voice as well, Steel laughed tauntingly, his wheeze turned into an evil, guttural sound, like some caricature of a corrupt cop. "Hehehe, you thought you had me, didn't you?! I'm a Memorial Non, frag-brain! You can't fight, you can't hide, you can't run! It's useless. You'll never get away-"

He was cut off rather suddenly as the scene completely shifted, dream powers acting in Shreddy's benefit once more. The viewpoint was running down the hallway of the apartment in a panic, with gunfire and cries behind him.

Jack tried to move or say something, but he had no access now. He was disembodied. The various pains were banished, at least.

What can I do? There has to be something…

Shreddy turned a corner, and he pulled up short in surprise as a woman stood right in his way, reaching toward him. She was glowing like an apparition, floating slightly in the air. She was beautiful; nude. Her eyes, like twin blazing suns, met his, and he froze completely, that vision holding him fast.

She wrapped both hands around his head and, like the quake of a goddess's will through reality, whispered, "She reminds me of the founder." The voice became his own, echoing in his head and drowning out all else — which quickly turned to blackness. "Only the founder held such power over me. To change, to awaken."

Everything went black again, and Jack felt his perspective 'zoom out' to see Shreddy, frozen and looking forward, enshrouded by that familiar void. He zoomed further until he suddenly found himself back in his mindscape body, the pains of before returning. He immediately noticed Scaper floating next to him, clad once more in her jumpsuit.

"Yes!" Scaper exclaimed and thrust her fists out in front of her. "I got him! Naked ghost lady works every time! Like taking candy from a baby, haha!"

Jack was a bit busy wincing at his hand. It felt broken, every movement agonizing. "Hey, can you… fix this?"

"Nope," she replied, though her eyes were on Shreddy. She gasped suddenly. "He's seeing stuff!" She grabbed his wrist and tugged him along with her toward Shreddy, as Jack stifled a yelp of pain. "Come on, we gotta go back in! You can observe!"

With another bewildering shift, it felt as if they shrank suddenly to pinpoints before 'absorbing' into Shreddy and gaining his eyes again. Jack's body pain went away, thankfully.

Shreddy was at a fancy dinner table. His head was clear, blessedly clear — clearer than he could remember. It was an important dinner. An important meeting with the Big Cheese. Everyone was there at the table, all of the Ten, who took the names of Tiamat's slain children, and wore masks in their likeness. Shreddy was down with it. At first, he just kinda liked alt belief systems, and there was money to be made with new connections, but what they were saying kept making more and more sense, and soon he realized it was all deadass true. Memoria was a straight-up bitch! That's all she'd ever been to him, anyway, just like his real mother, and-

"What a tool!" came the disembodied voice of Scaper. "Betrays humanity, endangers our survival, what, because he has mommy issues?"

"Shh!" Jack admonished. "Focus, Scaper. Identities."

"Right! Focusing…"

The figures around the table were shrouded in foggy indefinition as Shreddy seemed introspective and focused on such minutiae as silverware etiquette and posture — apparently, he'd read some book called 'Post's Etiquette' or something to prepare himself for his big day.

The ganger was really trying to come up in the world, eh? Putting his best shiny-shoed foot forward.

"Just need to suggest our way forward, here," Scaper muttered.

Momentarily, a tiny whisper in Shreddy's voice resounded, "I gotta pay attention to what they're saying!"

Shreddy's head snapped up, and someone across from him in a lion mask (with exposed lips) spoke in an oddly hyper-exaggerated sophisticate's voice, while gesturing with a hand. "All went smashingly, taking care of those problematic men, Twice Holy, my dear boy? No additional troubles?"

Shreddy shook his head. In a faux-sophisticated version of his voice, he replied, "No, indeed, Exalted One. All went as smoothly as butter. Begging thine pardon for the quaint analogy."

What?

Ridiculously, numerous people laughed or tittered behind a hand, and 'Lion Mask' chuckled as he sipped wine. "Mm-hm-hm-hm! Why not a food analogy at the dinner table, hmmmm? Someone pass the deviled eggs — someone here is devilishly charming!"

More titters. Shreddy touched his chest and bowed his head at Lion Mask. "You're too kind, dear sir."

Shreddy basked in his success. He did good.

Jack would've rolled his eyes if he could. That was a simile! I hope this convo didn't actually happen. Dreams, man. What can you do?

Scaper injected the Shreddy voice once more. "The pleasantries are done, and the meeting has to-"

Scaper suddenly cut off, as the scene warped and buckled, threatening to evaporate. "Shit!" she exclaimed, and briefly seemed to disappear. The whole scene in front of them rapidly darkened…

A moment later, it lit back up, and things began to move. Scaper seemed frantic as she called out high-speed, "Shit, almost got snared! Nnph! The Dreamer's corruption is live and coming for me hardcore; your friend is barely holding it back! I-I gotta go, can't spare attention division! Steel, you gotta steer. D-do your best! I will, too. Nnph! Find out what you can about the Founder with the time left! Bye!"

Jack remained stunned. "Wait, how do I-... and she's gone. Frag me."

The blip in the scene wiped out whatever Scaper said, as Shreddy was now eating steak.

Okay, alright, yeah, yeah, yeah, we can do this! Come on, Jack, come on…

Jack attempted a whisper directed at Shreddy, attempting to 'mime' his voice. "The Founder is starting the meeting-" Jack cut himself off with an internal curse. His mimicry of Shreddy was pathetically amateurish.

Indeed, Shreddy paused, blinking, obviously internally disturbed and confused by the jarring inner voice. Briefly, the scene began to darken — but Shreddy's eyes focused hard on the steak speared by a fork in front of his face. He soon stuffed it in his mouth to savor the rare delicacy, and the dinner table came back to full definition, the prior odd voice swiftly forgotten.

Phew! Saved by the power of a man's gut. Damn it to hell… how do I do this?

First, he calmed himself down and took a mental step back. He focused on sticking to cold, even observation. The vision before him had numerous figures around the table, in masks that he couldn't discernibly make out. A few servers were visible, and they seemed to have on similar, but simpler masks. Snake-like.

In his peripheral vision was the head of the table. Here, things were entirely enshrouded in darkness, like the end of the dream. Tremendous danger was there, that was certain.

Jack knew he had a kind of 'lent' suggestive control, through Scaper. Was it only via mental voices?

Do I give it another go, or dare I try something else in this den of madness?

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