Shaper of Metal Post-Apoc Progression LitRPG

Jack's evening and night were filled with a familiar recipe: training. This included ongoing technique development. He focused on Collect because he wanted to get the default to a cool, whole value. It was also a quite powerful technique for dealing with elusive foes, as he'd discovered with Homage, as well as on a less extreme example with Lindsay during earlier training. The more angles he could bring to bear, and the more he could multitask on offense, the better he could load the dice, as it were.

Aside from this, he did a big mix of training to keep it all sharp and honed, as well as advancing things until getting a feel for what was the closest to an upgrade after this or that epiphany.

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<p style="margin-bottom: 0"><strong><em>Control: Collect/Collect (Sphere) has improved to 1.0/2.4! </em></strong></p>
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<p style="margin-bottom: 0"><strong><em>Control: Cloud has improved to 0.9!</em></strong></p>
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<p style="margin-bottom: 0"><strong><em>Transmute: Quick-change has improved to 0.4!</em></strong></p>
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<p style="margin-bottom: 0"><strong><em>Transmute: Fluidity has improved to 0.4!</em></strong></p>
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<p style="margin-bottom: 1em"><strong><em>Create: Grapple has improved to 0.5!</em></strong></p>
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Ira was there to observe, this time working very hard to stay in character, much to the chagrin of Lifeguard, who, from time to time, could be seen frowning at her disapprovingly for her lack of proper cheer.

When it was all said and done, Jack relaxed once more in a folding chair after pushing himself into significant fatigue, sipping on a refreshing, ice-cold infused juice drink. It would be the last such drink of the night, as he'd gotten to the point where hitting them too much during a day failed to be useful.

Ira sat next to him in another folding chair, writing some final notes on what was today a larger notebook. She nodded. "Excellent. I've compiled significant notes today. Thank you."

Jack rolled his eyes, figuring it for part of her 'cover.' "Uh-huh, sure."

Ira quirked an eyebrow at him, then showed her notebook, flipping through multiple pages. Notes about his powers, apparently, but also charts, mathematical formulae, and apparently, sophisticated schematics he didn't even begin to understand. Page after page after page of it.

"The hell is all that?" Jack asked, surprised.

Ira leaned toward him with wide eyes and grinned, saying nothing. A moment later, a more 'pure Neex' voice blossomed in his head. "Notes on you and your powers! I look forward to designing ways to amplify and improve your operation- er, that is, your powers and the general physicality of your dynamic activity, such as for combat."

Jack sat up at that, leaning over toward her with matching wide eyes of intrigue. "You can do that?!"

Her smile widened with glee, her eyes glittering. "Yes! Well… I indirectly improve biological operation, and I am somewhat frustrated by the limitations this far from my Archon, including vastly superior investigative mechanisms, so, unfortunately, I cannot say yet whether I can devise a method to directly improve your powers in terms of end-result Magnitude…"

She thrust a finger up. "But! It hardly seems to matter! I already have design ideas that I am sure will be ideal for you, because you are so very efficient! I think you're an ideal use case for speed, reflexes, reaction time, and time perception. I believe you'll have premier compatibility and utilization of such boosts."

Jack raised his eyebrows. "Offense and defense improvement? Sign me up. So, are you like Stitcher? Not sure if you're familiar."

"I did review some information on her as provided by Central on Memoria's suggestion. Ah, not quite. Our System is different, of course, but I most resemble your 'Catalyst' role rather than Controller. I create novel new living artifacts, such as the heart you once delivered and we utilized for the bond. The heart was an even more novel case than my usual artifacts, but it's a reasonable example. Most designs are smaller and vary in their durations. I don't specialize in permanent or direct modifications, but temporary symbionts or functions through them therein. I keep most in my frono biti."

She paused as her eyes flickered downward briefly. "Which was taken, of course." When her eyes looked back up, they likely saw Jack's curiosity. "It's a living suit. Provides protection as well as being an enhanced interface and manifold control apparatus."

Jack took a deep breath as he considered everything. The whole time they'd conversed mentally, they'd been silently staring at each other from across the sparse distance between their chairs, leaning over the arms. Jack sat back and said, "Absolutely fascinating. I, uh, really don't like that those frag-offs got off with your stuff."

Ira also leaned back and sighed. Adjusted her glasses. "Yes, I hope they get- get fragged. Right in their faces! Ha." She glanced at Jack sidelong, likely to gauge his reaction to her 'vicious insult' attempt.

Jack nodded agreement, though his lips tugged sideways at the unfortunate double meaning. Should I tell her? Nah. It's fine.

Ira switched back to mind-speech. "It's dead by now, but I have a clone back home. It's alright. It won't know the difference as it has but the minimal level of sentience. The clone will likely be very happy to take over active duty."

Jack found the notion of 'suits with feelings' exceptionally odd, but replied politely, "That's great to hear." After a pause, he chuckled as he thought of something. "Want to know an old folksy way of saying someone is happy?"

Ira leaned her chin on a fist as she paid rapt attention. "Desperately. Please share!"

"Grinning like a possum with a sweet potato."

Ira was delightedly confused. "Whaat?"

Jack laughed at her reaction and shrugged. "I guess possums loved sweet potatoes. They don't live on the plats, and might not even exist anymore. Don't ask how the saying survived. Memoria, I guess."

Ira was grinning in incredulity as he explained, and laughed afterward, shaking her head. "I am like a possum with a sweet potato to hear of this silliness! I love it, Jack." She cleared her throat as her eyes flickered around, and she whispered, "But you should stop causing me to break character… ya big lug."

"Oh, on the contrary… What I'm doing is training you to handle human audacity when it occurs 'in the wild,' so to speak. Better lapses with just me than leaks in a group you hope to remain convinced of your humanness."

Her eyes shot to him with newfound appreciation. "Oh. That is so generous, Jack! Thank you. I take back that you are a big lug for now, please."

Jack nodded as he put his hands behind his head and grinned in self-satisfaction. Well done, Jack, you absolute damned genius.

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

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<p style="margin-bottom: 1em"><strong><em>Inner Energy has improved to 0.6!</em></strong></p>
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Jack was going through his usual morning routine when Highfive sent him a Mem-text. <Yo! We got immediate approval on a sim chamber for four hours before lunchtime. Ready for some team training, bro?>

Jack replied, <Sure. What is a sim chamber again?>

<Basically like a changeable, better private Power Park that can handle higher grade dangers. Up to Level 27 equivalent, which is the max considered safe with restraints by a program. It's low-key and specialized. Real professional. High in demand. Only major veterans can exceed the restraints, so it's good enough. There's also HRVR, but that's even harder to book for Junior Agents outside the typical intro duels. The chambers are supposed to be our 'era' or whatever. They can be used as the actual PACCs trial arena, too, but those are usually the more limited, bigger, duel-centric ones with a different setup. When not used for the PACCs, they are booked for already jacketed agent sparring or training. We might take part of the PACCs in these smaller chambers, but only early on.>

<Alright. Nice. Good info. What about visitors?>

<Right, you have that friend. No problem! If they've got Central's vouching, they're probably cleared, and every sim chamber has a big breakroom with a whole damn wall dedicated to viewing. Multiple angles of live feed. Tons of seating, too. Can even review videos there or in certain other archive access rooms. That's one of the reasons we have to register teams and team members.>

<Alright, I'll let her know. When do we meet?>

<Let's say an hour-and-thirty so we maximize our slot when we start. And don't worry about drinks or snacks unless you need exotic shit. The breakrooms are stocked.>

This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.

<Cool. See you then!>

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

The sim chamber target location was lower in the tower and accessed much the same as one would head to Containment, with the same sort of sequence of claustrophobic hallways and nondescript inner elevators. Jack met up with Ira just before the elevator ride, and they proceeded through a hallway that felt like it led to a boiler room. At the end was one heavy sealing door labeled 'Chamber 04' that opened into the aforementioned big breakroom.

It had large masses of cushioned seats and couches, most of which faced the vidscreen wall. There were a slew of vending machines, water tanks, and countertops with typical appliances such as a coffee machine and microwave. There were two other exits, one an apparent airlock and the other made of heavy double doors.

Bo was sitting on a couch on her phone, while Highfive was standing and waiting not far from the entrance. Both were in standard uniforms.

Highfive turned and threw his arms out with a big smile. "Jack's friend! Welcome! Ma'am."

Ira approached, parked herself in front of Highfive, and held out her hand. Her neck craned upward. "Hello, Jack's large friend. I'm Agent Ira, and please call me Ira. It's a pleasure to meet you, and I look forward to observing you three as a team."

Highfive grinned and took it in stride, taking her hand for a shake. "I hear you're new to things like Jack?"

"Yes. Everything I experience here is of a novelty of use to the leadership's purposes, but particularly seeing and understanding a variety of powers."

"Oh, no problem. Analytical type? There's plenty of those around. We're used to it."

"Those with powers tend to have the greater access." Bo had walked up, her eyes locked in shrewd study of the new entry. She held her hand out to Ira for a shake as well. "Bo, here. Short for Bogus Pocus. The dufus here that didn't give his name is Highfive. Fiver for short."

Highfive winced and grinned sheepishly as he rubbed the back of his neck. "Oh, yeah, sorry. That's me!"

Ira nodded smoothly to both of them. "An honor, Bo and Fiver. As for what I can do, I'm afraid that's currently classified."

The others just nodded in acceptance. Highfive said suddenly, "Oh, did Jack tell you he chose a handle finally?"

Ira's face twitched and looked odd for a moment, as Jack knew she was suppressing a gasp. Her eyes flashed to Jack's. "No, actually."

"Ah, well, it's-" Highfive cut off as Bo stepped on his foot. "Ow! What the-?!"

Glaring at Highfive, Bo muttered insistently, "Let him tell her, don't you think?" Her eyes flickered significantly between Jack and Ira.

Jack chuckled. "I should've shared already, I admit. I went with Ferronaut. Ferro, for the shortened designator, or 'Pharaoh' like the Egyptian rulers, for the disguised spelling."

Once more, Jack could tell Ira was containing her personality. It made her look as if she were annoyed, perhaps holding in a fart. She replied sedately, "A sensible choice. I think it's well chosen." Mental communication, on the other hand… "Ahhh! Light on the Corals, I love it so much, Jack! It's Latin! It sounds like you're an explorer!"

"I'm glad you like it!" Jack replied mentally.

"I like to call him Big Iron," Highfive added, "so you're welcome to join me in giving him a proper nickname. You know, one others come up with."

"You mean like yours was decided, Fiver?" Jack asked with thick sarcasm.

"Hey, man, that's different! It was just obvious what my handle would be. Besides, you call me Blondy all the damn time. Hey, isn't that even why I came up with yours?!"

"My selective memory is coming up empty on that, Blondy."

"Big Iron?" Ira repeated, puzzled and looking between the boys.

"Oh, ah, it's like, um, this song reference…" Highfive answered, trailing off momentarily.

Before he could begin singing, Jack cleared his throat. "Soooo… training?"

"Right! Is everyone ready to get after it?"

"I was born ready."

"Yes," Bo answered simply.

"Alright," Highfive began, slapping his hands together and rubbing them, "I thought we could get our feet wet with a good ole horde fight. A bunch of endless enemies coming in waves, and we start just free-flowing, figuring out our dynamics while fighting. Dunno about you guys, but my best way of coming up with ideas is getting right into the mix!"

Bo added, "We usually suit up fully for these, but your shit is still on order, Ferro. Custom-tailored, so it can take a minute, but my guess is, with the priority on your ass, it'll come in tonight or in the morning."

Jack put up his hands. "Hey, hey, let's just stick with 'Jack' out of the field, eh?"

The two Nons just looked at him blankly for a long spell.

Highfive suddenly grinned and gave a weak, "Sure, bud. But like I was saying, a bunch of relative mooks coming at us. Not strong, but annoying, and can overwhelm ya. It's more of an endurance test." His smile grew wide. "You're gonna love what I picked out, though!"

Jack frowned, dubious. "I'm going to love the simulation of numerous enemies trying to kill me?" At Highfive's smug and self-satisfied nod, Jack only continued to be confused. "What is it?"

Highfive wagged a finger in his face. "Uh-uh-uh! It's a surprise, bro."

Bo sighed, rolled her eyes, and crossed her arms. The triple whammy. "Can we just get on with it? This tease and foreplay act is mixing business with pleasure."

"B-but foreplay is…" Ira started, apparently scandalized. When all eyes turned to her, her own behind the glasses widened, and she seemed to blanch. She cleared her throat and raised her chin, not meeting anyone's eyes. "Never mind. I am an impartial observer, whatever the case."

Highfive leaned down to put his arm around Bo as he shook his head toward Ira in exaggerated sadness and said, "Please forgive Bo. She's an inappropriate person and will do better in mixed company." He patted her shoulder. "Isn't that right, Bo?"

Bo's lip twisted as she kept her eyes to the side, saying nothing. Jack imagined it was her version of embarrassment.

Trying not to laugh, Jack touched minds with Neex again to assure her. "As you probably figured out, Bo was just being sarcastic. Teasing. The problem being that she doesn't give much in the way of tells."

Neex gave a mental thumbs-up. "Understood! I will be doubly suspicious of her statements, expecting default irony."

"Default irony is a great encapsulation of Bo."

Highfive began walking toward the double doors. "Come on, crew! Loadout is this way. Need a helm and vest. We're a team, so we're all going to wear the common shit today!"

As the others followed further behind, Bo murmured quietly to Jack, "He makes a great figurehead, doesn't he?"

"Seems like that's most Mantles, after all."

"It is. But he doesn't have the greatest tactical mind. The truth is, he has…" Reluctantly, Bo held up her thumb and forefinger to indicate a 'smidge.' "Some tactical acumen. He can handle the basics."

"A star sportsball player that needs a good coach?"

"Or an elite soldier needing a general. Framing it your way might be perfect for him. Whether that was Lighthouse, before?" She pondered it. "Probably not. Maybe impossible. Too much like squabbling siblings."

"Mmn. Noted. Time will tell how things settle."

Bo nodded without saying anything further.

I wonder if Fiver and Light could mesh together, with the right officer? Not sure if it's too much to ask when they're already separated. Light could get mixed with a new team any day now.

Jack couldn't help thinking about the potential future Dream Team chemistry. Highfive as a tank, Lighthouse as pure offense, Bo as debuff and counter, Neex as an amplifier blessedly including some defensive potential, and Jack as an amorphous reinforcer of whatever tactics were needed, shifting from defense to offense as a kind of 'core functions' support.

An offensive powerhouse group, right there. A strike team.

His daydreams were interrupted by a room full of equipment to deal with. He grabbed a helmet and faceplate, quite a bit bulkier than the version ANPs typically wore. The armor vest was also heavier than the coveted sleek jacket, but its protection was equivalent.

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<p style="margin-bottom: 1em"><strong><em>Mobility and Evasion are inhibited and reduced by an estimated 6%.</em></strong></p>
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Blech. Yeah. These vests aren't exactly great for acrobatics. I can still do a pretty good roll, though. The physical strength enhancement compensates for the weight, but bulk is bulk, and inflexible is still mostly inflexible.

Taking a look at the bulk metals available, Jack asked, "Just how much stuff are we typically allowed?"

"It varies," Bo said as she was strapping a handgun to her vest. "On offense, you'll often be instructed to bring only what you could bring on a mission. If it's some kind of straight duel, you might just bring whatever you can carry to the field, then make use of the prep time. Scenarios can give way more if you can pick through your approach."

After getting extra mags for the pistol, Bo went for a light service rifle and slotted in a bayonet.

"Yeah, just take what is mission feasible here," Highfive said. He'd taken a token handgun but didn't move for anything more, keeping light. "I'm sure you can float a big block of metal around and carry shit you drop in the field. Otherwise, let's not prep too much inside. We want, uh, spontanitty."

"Spontaneity?" Jack asked as he loaded up much like Bo, before spotting a series of large steel weights to cannibalize.

"Yeah. The sponta-nitty-gritty! And nobody take twenty damn clips, okay? I expect you cheaters to run out of ammo and switch to melee eventually. Er. Unless you can make that shit, Jack?"

"I can't create the powders, no," Jack replied. "I'd not only need a broader control subject, I think, but practically a degree in chemistry. For primers, especially. Bullets are a pretty sophisticated piece of technology, as it turns out. On the other hand, I am unlikely to run out of personal ammo via my power, if you catch my drift."

"Oh, I gotcha."

"Three magazines," Bo said with faint exasperation. "Trust me, I know the drill with you. And stop saying 'clips,' you big dweeb. You know that's a pet peeve of mine."

"Your colleagues are very amusing, Jack," Neex said in his mind. "I look forward to getting to know them better! One day, I hope they can know the real me, too."

"Me too, Neex," Jack replied.