Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

Jack managed to slap the band around the briefly stationary neck of Homage from behind, catching him unaware as it rapidly, fully connected from back to front, locking in and damning him. Even as Homage was throwing a hand up to grab it, admittedly with a lightning-fast reaction time, Jack tightened it hard, pouring everything he had into the intensity and bumping his output to 100%. A slight give resulted, a 'soft' resistance gradually tightening up and absorbing the stress.

Homage seized and dropped to the ground as the functions of the system-field simulated injury and stunning effects. Homage fought against it admirably, trying to roll and get up, abandoning pulling it off, seemingly hoping to locate Jack even while 'choking,' but that was ultimately hopeless. Jack used his telekinetic leverage to pull him back to the ground as if he were in the grip of a muscular wrestler.

Or a giant snake! Oh yeah.

A scant few moments later…

Jack relinquished any pressure on the band, now feeling stiff counter-resistance rather than the 'softer' variety. As he began withdrawing his memorite effects and reducing his output, Homage stood up, rubbing at his neck from what ghost of injury he might feel.

"Woooo!" Highfive shouted as he clapped loudly. "What a fraggin' badass! Huh, Bo? Huh?! Yeeeeah! Go Jack! Go Big Iron!"

Jack waved at him amiably. Bo watched judiciously with a finger tapping her lip, before jotting something down on her hidden paper.

Homage walked over to shake Jack's hand again. "Welp, you kicked my ass. Nice work. We'd have to get contrived to give me a chance against you. Say, do you specialize in choking?"

"Inquiring minds want to know," Bo called.

Jack snickered before nodding to Homage. "That is a Secondary Mutation, yeah. Can knock people out pretty quick."

"Right. Don't bother with that in team trials. Going for non-lethal in particular, I mean. Friendly tip. Unlike these kiddo duels designed to be especially sporting, we get full attention and protection in trials, custom for the whole duration, because Memoria wants to tenderly make us feel some real pain with a teensy bit o' real. Nothing extreme, but enough to identify those who can't handle it. Aside from certain cruelties or danger zones, you can and should just go for kills. Know why?"

"Why?"

"So you guarantee they don't come back into the fight later. Some people got shit that can only stun or cause unconsciousness. In a real fight, that's not a fight-ender. You gotta finish them off."

"Right." Jack took a deep breath. "Makes sense. I'm starting to see why that is the final training style. I guess it's supposed to simulate real battlefields?"

Homage held up a corrective finger. "Battlespaces, greenie. Get it right, or some Agent Smithmanjenkins will glare it into you."

Jack laughed and gestured with his hands up to acknowledge the point. "And I call myself a veteran. A pilot, no less! Sorry, yeah: battlespaces."

Homage nodded. "Team battles simulate altercations with our enemies. They function differently, maybe with somewhat different rules, but it's like the same sports game in different leagues, right? Enough to trip you up until you figure out the differences, but hitting a motherfragger hard in the teeth is the same anywhere."

"Ah. Nice analogy. Got it. So, ah, what are the 'certain cruelties and danger zones,' by the way?"

"Oh! Gotta stay away from internal origin effects because they're harder to counter. No lethal style stuff to organs or the brain. And going for lung damage. The brain is a weird one, though. You can't deliberately go for the eyes, but you can go for the noggin as long as it's external or non-lethal. A bullet to the brain is fine, so to speak. As for cruelty, eh, you should be fine, greenie. Just use the minimum pain needed to execute, you know? If you don't, make sure it's because you needed to. Oh, and, ah, don't go for a guy's balls. That's just common courtesy."

"It's not technically illegal!" Bo called.

Homage turned to look her way in some exasperation, fists on his hips. "Ever think that sort of shit is maybe why you didn't pass?"

"No. It was a key strategy during a win once."

Homage rubbed his forehead with a hand and shook his head. He said low, "Don't listen to her, Jack."

"I heard that. I'll just point out that Homage is not on our team."

"You can't do that again, dude," Highfive muttered anxiously. "We don't want that kind of rep…"

"What rep? For winning? For taking advantage of a logical weakness in a foe?"

Highfive sighed long-sufferingly.

B, the Ball Buster. Jack fought to keep from smiling. He shrugged. "If it isn't illegal, it might be even more effective as a feint." It was a deliberate hedging declaration on his part. He did need her vote, after all.

"Yes!" Bo called. "Thank you. Someone has a brain here. At least consider the benefits of a sudden nut tap." She eyed Jack and then marked something on her paper with approving airs.

Homage gave a doubtful shrug, then got a sudden, amused expression as he met Jack's eyes. He snickered and repeated, "Benefits of a nut tap…"

"You want to experiment?" Bo asked him with a rather threatening tone. "I could tap your nuts. Just say the word."

Homage pursed his lips and scratched the back of his neck, finally smiling. "After careful consideration, I respectfully decline."

"Right. I thought so."

Homage coughed. "Ahem! Moving on… Jack, ah, I'm thinking maybe you could try me for target practice."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Oh? Why's that?"

"If I buff myself, I can dodge pretty well. I think I have the advantage on a one-for-one with you, actually. So you'd have to get creative."

"Huh. Alright. Maybe I'll go for your nuts."

Homage laughed. "Please don't. I'm honestly confused how they got so popular."

"You and me both, brother."

They took up positions on opposite sides of the field again, this time without any intervening terrain features. Homage obviously buffed himself again, as Jack felt his Allotment twist and saw the air around him begin to shimmer, as if seeing distant, hot fumes. He took a loose, slightly crouching position.

Jack tried a straight-up one-shot, forging a metal dart and utilizing Throw to fire it at Homage, ready to curve it mid-flight as needed.

Homage didn't even twitch initially, to where Jack almost thought he'd get creamed immediately. Instead, Homage sidestepped at the last possible fraction of a second, giving Jack no possible recourse to correct. The dart sailed past, and Jack let it smash into the field wall.

"You'll have to do better than that, Jack!" Homage called.

"Gee, I dunno if I can!" Jack replied in playful, mock uncertainty. Judging by what he did, he's well over a dodge equivalent of my Control at 4.0. At least 5, maybe even 6 or 7.

"Well, if you're that confident, try with three next before you go ham!"

"You got it." Jack formed three darts, one dead center between them and two flanking wide to either side. He fired them across the space in rapid succession, flankers first, making the two on either side curve, and so the darts converged on Homage.

This time, Homage began moving well before they arrived, sprinting to the side to try and muddle Jack's convergence. Jack adjusted them as best he could to collapse on the moving target, aiming at the torso.

Homage pivoted and burst toward the darts at the last moment, dropping underneath them and rolling away, as they all missed and buried in the ground.

Just as Homage was popping up and opening his mouth, a dart came flying out of the ground and hit him from behind, exploding as it hit the armor and making him stumble forward, almost eating the grass.

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"Hey!" Homage called, grimacing. "That's cheating!"

Jack chuckled and shrugged. "I prefer winning to fighting fair."

"Holy shit, he's legit on my wavelength," Bo muttered. Jack thanked his improved hearing that he caught it.

"So, he's in?!" Highfive asked her excitedly.

But Bo just frowned at him and squinted her eyes judiciously, soon leaning down to write another note.

"Seriously, what are you even writing on that, and why can't I see?"

He got no answer.

Homage, meanwhile, popped his neck to either side. "Alright, I give you half a point on that. Now hit me on the first strike, if you can. Make me sweat, go ham, hit me at all costs."

"Alright," Jack replied, and collected the greater bulk of his metal before him into three spheres, one of them larger. The other two were levitated and ready by way of Anchors allocation, not burdening his main material.

Jack rapidly began making darts until he had an army of them inside of a minute. He fanned dozens and dozens of sharp darts out across the width of the field, filling it with darts, with most in small groups so he could fling them at once. Not ideal for individual dart power, but hypothetically, it was a sound tactic against a fast, not very durable enemy that Homage was simulating. Furthermore, in a real fight, a space soon filled with metal gave him multiple angles to fire from. Accuracy for Throw — in that fashion — was still something he was working on, but just zipping metal across space to latch on was far easier at that point. If a foe moved around a lot, they could literally step on one of his weapons without realizing it, and then he had them.

Even better, I could send a whole wire net across the width of the field, simulating my advantages these days in confined areas, but that's not really what we're practicing right now.

"Sonuvabitch," Homage exclaimed as he looked on. "I guess I asked for it, huh?"

"That you did!" Jack began unleashing the mass of darts, volley after volley.

Homage immediately began running diagonally, making the angle more difficult from one direction, at least. Jack didn't attempt to hit with that group; instead, he fanned them out to pelt one route of his foe's escape, taking it away. All around, he was stretching his multitasking capabilities like never before, knowing he'd need it against such superior speed and reflexes.

The speedy form of his target was indeed a blur as it threaded the needle, avoiding a whole volley, narrowly skirting the edge at the last moment. But he was running right into a third volley, and had little choice but to dive under it.

Despite the quickness and supreme smoothness with which it was executed, Jack had anticipated it and was ready for it, already rapidly firing three full-power darts in succession at 'the spot,' then focusing on adjusting them as his best opportunity. The first narrowly missed, and the second grazed Homage's arm even as he was rolling, in a ridiculous twitch maneuver, but he couldn't adjust also for the third dart, which slammed right into his other shoulder and exploded, knocking him back and rolling with the blow.

"Yes!" Highfive exclaimed and started clapping and hollering. "Woooo! Got that little bastard!"

Homage turned around to frown at his friend. "Hey!"

"Oops." Highfive winced, then smiled sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his head. "Sorry, bro, I got carried away."

Shaking his head and dusting himself off, Homage looked over at Jack and called, "Nice work! It usually takes a lot of effort to directly overcome a statistical disadvantage like that. You have to stack the deck. The good news is, on a team, you can gang up. No stat advantage is safe around Bo, for instance. The other thing I liked about what you did? I noticed you conspired to hit me full-force. I can tell those volleys have divided power and reduced velocity."

"What's your Dodge while doing that, anyway?"

"Six-point-six."

Jack whistled. "No wonder it was a pain. That seems pretty good for a support guy at your level."

"Yeah, but I'm wasting full intensity on myself. Not much chance of that in a real situation. One of my Secondary Mutations lets me have a second instance use, and speed is the best thing to buff myself with, so five-point-four is the more realistic number."

"So you can buff others with that speed, too?"

"Depends. My powers sense accomplishments and forge a custom buff, ah, spiritually based on it. I see three possibilities at first, and have to take exponentially more time for more of them. But, basically, what you've already proven good at is what I can buff the most."

Jack marveled. "That is smeggin' rad. So you can make a rolodex of buffs if you take long enough with someone?"

Homage made a face. "What the hell is a rolodex?"

"Oh, uh, it's this index tool of the ancients, where they- bah. Never mind. A long list, I mean."

"Yeah, but it's diminishing returns on intensity, and the more I ferret out, the longer it takes to look again later. Not great if someone comes to me all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed about the cool new thing they did and wants to know what the buff does. So, it's best to keep it low and reasonable, and I have some incentive not to use it at all until I expect an actual case use."

"I see. You said you're on a Rescue squad? So you commonly buff a Medic?"

Homage nodded. "That's right. Or a tank holding it down while someone gets evacc'd. My power works best on tangible shit… uh, glorious? Obvious heroics. That's usually physical, so I'm not that useful for psychics and people like that." A pause. "Anyway, you wanna practice a little more, compadre? Trying to match a real, live target is usually good for skills. Something about wanting to beat your peers more is my theory on why." He grinned.

"It does feel good beating you up," Jack quipped. "Sure, why not?"

They went through the gamut of target practice, alternating between Jack missing repeatedly with small volleys to general success while 'bringing the rain,' as Homage called the vast storms of darts. But it wasn't always the case, as twice Homage beat the odds, somehow dodging the whole mass. When one could 'anticipate the anticipation,' and had the speed advantage, the numbers weren't everything. The second time this happened, Jack changed it up and tried something else. He switched focus and control to a dart that was narrowly missing Homage, flinging out hooked wires to snag Homage's clothing on the arm. It wasn't an easy maneuver timing-wise, but he succeeded, and the dart went whipping and wheeling around to smack into Homage's back. A relatively weak, sideways hit, but Jack then morphed it to form a band around his neck before Homage could do much of anything.

They debated whether that was a true 'hit' target-practice-wise, but Jack considered it a win. Homage had more or less forced an innovation he could build on. He couldn't quickly or easily arrest the complete momentum of Throw near a target, not while also wanting to nearly simultaneously utilize the metal. But he could redirect a portion of it. The clothing typically utilized by the military provided a good snag that was resistant to ripping. In a real battle, he just needed to get metal on a person, and they were in trouble. One solution was simply aiming for the ground, or maybe the lower legs, but the hook maneuver allowed him to try for a direct hit first.

The practice was all-in-all golden to Jack. Simulations didn't compare to pushing with his all to hit a live person of Homage's capability, who was significantly higher than Lindsay and with more boots-on-the-ground combat experience. Homage was also more ruthless and annoying than Lindsay — that or Jack's competitiveness simply amplified against him. He sweated to finally burn the guy after half a dozen failures.

Jack's inability to hit him with three darts was nearly set in stone, but when they moved to five, he got closer and closer and finally scored a hit with a curving, anticipatory dart mid-dodge.

After celebrations, Homage held up his hand, panting. "Okay. Calling it! Good work." He turned and made for the tent, immediately going for some water.

Jack wiped his brow with his sleeve and followed. He blinked as the field around them vanished as he was walking. That likely meant Homage was paying attention to the time on it, as he doubted they'd want to waste any. It had a cost.

Homage probably helped out. What a guy!

Jack was plenty thirsty himself. Nodding to a smiling Highfive, who clapped his shoulder and congratulated him, Jack downed some cold water, then downed another with an NP packet stirred into it.

Ooh! First Interpret skill.

"Welp," Homage said in between deep breaths and wiping his forehead with a hand towel, "he's got my vote. Great power and a great noggin behind it. A winning attitude. Sublime wit, healthy skin, perfect shave, etcetera, etcetera."

Jack chuckled. "A good skin care routine is essential."

"Exactly, dude," Highfive said, grinning as he looked between everyone present. "I'm always telling people that!" His eyes fell heavy on Bo. "We all know my vote. He proved what I already knew. So, that's two of threeee, Boooo…" His sing-song lead-in was further punctuated by a comically insistent expression, reminiscent of a child begging his big sis to go on a fair ride.

As everyone's eyes were on Bo, she frowned and turned to regard Jack, pulling up her paper and appearing to 'go down the list' with a pen, alternating between nodding, shaking her head, squinting her eyes, twisting her lips doubtfully, scoffing and rolling her eyes, and so on. Meanwhile, Highfive's hands were going wider and wider out horizontally in a gesture like 'Come on!' until his significant wingspan was on full display.

Finally, Highfive blurted, "Well?!" in impatience.

Bo glanced at him, glanced at Jack, then back at Highfive. She suddenly turned around her notes. They displayed what appeared to be her name, 'Bogus Pocus,' displayed in many different styles, with check marks or exes next to different ones. Apparently, she'd been practicing her autograph.

"Which one do you like the best?" Bo asked, fighting off a self-satisfied smirk.

"What the hell?!" Highfive exclaimed like a sonic boom. "That's what you've been scribbling this whole fraggin time?! Are you kidding me?!"

Bo merely glanced his way and shrugged.

Jack played along, leaning in and squinting at the text. "Middle one on the far right. Er, my right. No check or mark yet."

Bo flipped it around to look, then rolled her eyes. "Of course that would be your choice." She marked something, but Jack couldn't see what.

"Hey!" Highfive exclaimed, pointing at Bo emphatically. "Forget your stupid autograph! What about Jack on our team?! What's your damn vote?!"

Bo glared at him, then glanced at Jack before raising her chin back at Highfive. "Didn't I already say? Of course he's on the team. I'm practicing my stupid autograph because Mr. Superstar is going to get us our jackets. Assuming, of course, he gains a couple of levels in training and we find a decent fourth."

Highfive's unstable glare made it look like he might finally, really explode on her. And then his power spawned explosively around him, a physical nimbus that pushed everyone back. Bo yelped as she was dumped backward in her chair, while Jack and Homage stumbled backward out of the way of a spawning freight train.

Highfive rose straight up hard and fast, smacking the whole tent up and yeeting it right out of its four anchors to plop and collapse on the ground. Highfive made a fist, and his nimbus of energy made a giant fist.

"Yeeeah!" he called like a war cry. "Jack's a real best bro for life, now!"