Rain Harlow
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Chapter 88 *
🕑 Added 2025-09-22 15:00:18 +0000 UTCChapter 88: War Games * (asterisk means a current bio at the end)
As the new trio of Jack, Bo, and Highfive had finally wound down and were done with training — likely for the day when it came to team exercises — Mini finally saw fit to report gains.
Your Level has improved to 3.4! Please enter the trance and Calibrate, as this changes your total Allotment.
Control: Cord has improved to 1.6!
Control: Throw has improved to 2.0!
Control: Spear has improved to 0.6!
Control: Collect/Collect (Sphere) has improved to 1.2/2.5!
Control: Cloud has improved to 1.0!
Transmute: Quick-change has improved to 0.5!
Transmute: Fluidity has improved to 0.5!
Create: Grapple has improved to 0.6!
Interpret: Fieldsense has improved to 0.2!
Evasion has improved to 3.3!
Parry has improved to 0.4!
New Technique gained! Control: Strike 0.1 has been added to your stat bio.
Holy cow, that’s a lot. A new technique? This one sounds rather broad…
Control: Strike — Accuracy at forcibly striking with anything under the sun, whether blunt, pointy, sharp, or whatever else. Generally much lower than more specialized attacks, which will always be higher than this Technique, if statistically noted.
Nice to know I’ve gotten so versatile. Guess this lets me know other attack techs are less likely unless I religiously focus on something. Which is probably wasteful for the foreseeable future, as I’m gaining like crazy on my existing specialties. But this lets me know I can run the whole gamut of ideas here and there and see some broad returns for my trouble.
After eating, they all went their separate ways again. Jack had classes coming up, so he took a shower, changed, and got to it. Law class was especially boring, and Highfive didn’t help by constantly yawning, which made him yawn, which gained them both dangerous looks from the professor. They soldiered through.
When all was said and done, Jack was grateful to take a nap. When he woke, he sat on his bed and did up his Calibration, now a fairly routine process for the ‘fractional level’ gains.
Level increased! Create increased! Allotment increased!
Level: 3.4
Allotment: 340 [ 330 ]
[ 5.4 ] Create
Nice. Allotment increased from 310 to 340.
Stretching his arms, wincing from the general ‘battered and bruised’ feelings, he asked, “Mini, after I hit Create six, what’s the Allotment progression?”
Mini replied with some numbers. <The next six ‘effective power levels’ are the same. From 400 to 1,600 Allotment, it’s 200 between Create levels, and thus 20 per Fractional. This shortens from additional allocations to Create.>
“Like the option at Level 5 to increase it.”
<Correct. Assuming no other allocations to Create, with that selection at Level 5, you’d be at an ‘effective power level’ of 8, with Allotment at 800.>
“That’s a lot of metal.”
<A small car’s worth of mass. Technically, your actual lifting capacity will be higher, between Technique gains and a little more from Anchors.>
“Car-tossing levels not that far off, huh? Groovy.”
Jack spent the rest of the day keeping things light after the intense training of the day before, and his need to be one hundred percent for the next satisfying, but grueling session. On the same note, he did do some light powers training, namely to flex his Create and get used to the new normal of around a ten percent power boost. He also custom-designed armor for Bo and Highfive, utilizing a lightweight steel alloy as a base, and helpfully getting the provision of body molds — and vests for the torso, to ensure synchronicity — without any effort required, by request through Mini. He did all he could to strengthen the material while keeping it light.
Augment would probably help out here. Which I will prooobably get eventually, one way or another. Interpret is getting raised next, though. I wonder how much training I need to get to Level 4? I know it's going to get harder and harder.
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕
The next day began with training, as they were granted the same slot they had before. Jack got in his official sleek body suit and the sophisticated helmet and faceplate system, and had to ask several times and several people, if this was really ‘his’ or a loaner. But Mini and his crew assured him the getup was tailor-made for him and would continue with him permanently through his career, barring replacements or spares.
It was nothing too special from what he’d already trained with, but all that gearing had been leading to him getting what was finally his. Fresh-cut memory cloth and a shiny new helmet with the retractable full-range faceplate. A closed, sealed system, with contoured, sleek gas filters and optional hook-ups for air tanks, if needed. The suit could ‘go loose’ with a command, turning into an unmarked military uniform, and even had a ‘civilian’ setting for athletic pants and a long-sleeve shirt. Its memory-material protection would stiffen at the sight of impacts, or even keep a limb from ‘twisting wrong.’ It was good at distributing wide-scale body damage, such as getting slammed or knocked, especially if assisted with the rolls everyone had drilled into them endlessly from training.
None of it was even close to absolute because of the thinness of the material, never sacrificing mobility. Anything higher powered than a 9mm handgun would hurt through it, and armor-piercing rounds from rifles would break right through, making limb shots viable. It was the default that everyone would wear for the most minimal of protection without burdens.
Added to his crew’s personal kit was then the armor vest, disincentivizing efficient small arms fire. Jack was well ready for the final addition: his armor plates. For Highfive, a porous inner torso plate, front and back, practically fused to the inside of a customized armor vest. In the center, at the solar plexus and the corresponding point on the back, the metal ‘pierced’ through in a big circle, so that Jack could utilize a direct line of sight to work out from, if necessary.
Bo had similar for the torso, but non-porous and stronger, and included a sloping neck guard, as she’d been taken out twice from neck strikes. Otherwise, she also had sleek, contouring plates over her limbs, currently in a matte dark gray.
When she was checking herself out in a mirror in full kit, flexing around and nodding approvingly, Jack asked, “Just let me know if you want the color changed.”
Bo’s helmeted and visored head snapped around. “You can change the color?”
Jack crossed his arms and nodded smugly. He knew it. Girls loved color.
Shortly thereafter, a Bo that might’ve been smiling on the inside walked out of the gear room, sporting a black suit with dark purple armor highlights. Not the best camouflage, admittedly, but ah, well. She wasn’t wearing neon pink or something, at least.
Which is practically what Fiver is with his sheath up. Ugh. I need to practice metal camo screens or something.
Training began with scenarios again, strongly mimicking the match structure of most PACCs in typical war games. They did Capture the Flag, Base Defense, Asset Extraction, and so on, always three-on-three fighting against sims with various powersets. The difficulty also varied, starting easier and getting progressively harder. The exact makeup was left to algorithms partly tweaked by Bo to include powersets she felt they’d likely face. She didn’t aim for perfect emulation, which was impossible, but it was golden for Jack, who had no real chance to catch up to them in terms of sheer breadth of familiarity. Focusing on likely competitors was a beneficial shortcut.
At least the basic idea of war games is not unfamiliar territory to me. I did this shit all day before flight school. Hey, maybe I am a Spartan like them? Ha. Junior Varsity Spartan.
The full suits combined with the metal reinforcement seemed to make for a noticeable uptick in performance, though it was hard to say, as each game sim was getting them more familiar with fighting with each other. But his improved and meticulous manufacture was enough to make dangerous hits a little less dangerous, and that was huge for Nons, who could take a tiny thread of advantage and make bloody crochet art out of it.
Furthermore, he was able to occasionally predict and then reinforce against hits actively, flowing more metal to the point of impact and ‘pushing’ with memorite. As he started using his diffuse clouds more and dividing his focus enough to respond to things within them, he got a better feel for propagating enemy attacks. Especially in defensive situations, he blanketed zones in them, and was harder and harder to catch by surprise. Granted, most energy attacks passing through were too damned fast. ‘Some sense’ was great, and even better when it was tacked on as an extra to vision, but it was definitely… low sense.
You’re mine next level up, Interpret. You’re mine.
Regarding the added armor, no one ever complained about discomfort, bulk, or weight. Not a peep. That was perhaps the biggest victory, because he’d laboriously tried to avoid that. High-performance murder-athletes needed their personal kit comfort zones. By the same token that they expanded and exploited small advantages, small negative changes could seriously oppress them.
It was one of the things that made Bo so devastating and even terrifying to the opposing squad. One split second of confusion, or a moment that depended upon a power struck suddenly ‘on the fritz,’ could utterly doom an opponent. The simulations already showcased it plenty, and Jack imagined many scenarios where actual combatants would be even more panicked.
In any case, the performance and reports were so good that Jack was convinced to go ahead and make one for himself. He couldn’t very functionally utilize the metal actively, but just the ‘last chance’ barrier effect of ‘super-steel’ on the vitals was well worth it.
They won all the Capture the Flags thanks to their general versatility, especially with stalling tactics, though Bo was running on fumes by the end of the third, and even got eliminated. Highfive was the MVP, outlasting everyone in a match that had an enemy physical kinetic damage-dealer — his ideal thing to shrug off. Despite losing Bo for it, he zoomed into the ‘endzone’ with the enemy flag at the end. The difficulty had been high, fighting an average of power greater than their own, but the matchup itself balanced things in their favor.
They failed their second Asset Extraction due to a last-minute execution of the fleeing asset by a light-user firing laser-like precision blasts. Due to Jack and Bo getting tied up with holding back the annoying enemies — the same damn plastic tank! — Highfive was the escort, and the laser gal slipped away, zapping Highfive's weakened sheath from behind, scoring damage to a leg, tripping him up, and exposing the asset to the killshot.
I hate plastic powers now. This sim in particular!
Dusting his aching body off after the battle, lit up in strumming red ‘loser light’ everywhere — which was extremely annoying — Jack called, “Hey, Sim Chamber!?”
A voice chimed from everywhere in a buttery, feminine voice. “Yes, Junior Agent Laker?”
“That plastic sim! I’m giving him a name. Flaccid.”
“His code designation is-”
“I don’t care! Rename him that for our team’s purposes. When I say, ‘boot up Flaccid,’ that’s who’s getting booted up.”
“Understood, Junior Agent Laker. It has been executed.”
Bo had her hands idle on her hips, her helmet off, watching him the whole time as he slowly walked by and barked his orders, saying nothing.
“What?!” Jack asked a bit too sharply, still peeved. His ribs hurt from too much clammy plastic squeezing him.
“Nothing,” Bo said, clearly with a measure of amusement.
They lost Base Defense, with a time limit included, by only ten seconds, thanks to the unfortunate scenario of facing a Material Controller (Stone) that systematically destroyed the whole base. It took a long time only due to Jack reinforcing the entire structure with steel, making for quite an instructive ‘materials duel,’ with the teams otherwise well-matched and everyone wearing each other down.
Jack didn’t feel bad about the loss, despite the closeness to a win. It had been outstanding training for his powers and in fighting against an ‘earth’ type, who could dominate matches if their medium was the majority of the environment, as was often the case. Compared to him, such users worked with more mass, but less raw material strength and precision. Head-to-head, they tended to knock him around but not crack, while he was essentially the opposite, utilizing concentrated force to threaten their barriers with integrity-compromising damage. Team-wise, the Controller was vulnerable to a setup, so he focused on forcing openings for his team from the backlines.
Their increasing synchronicity as a team had already seen gains in preserving Bo significantly better, making for more total fights they could get through all the way through on her heavily limited energy. They finished up draining those energy reserves with some straight duels, and Highfive stated they’d start off with a ton of low difficulty to make use of their time slot. Lean on ‘the boys’ as much as possible. They were good enough together that it was a relative breeze, though in practice, it remained a rather grueling training sequence. Satisfying, but grueling. Basically, they were farming simulations.
Jack and Highfive developed a finisher they called ‘Slap Five,’ involving the mutual charge of a giant psychokinetic hand and a giant plate of metal, utilizing enough extra momentum to squish even the lightly armored. Jack promised to work on memorizing a plate that was more hand-like, much to Highfive’s excitement. It would only get stronger as Jack gained more mass to work with. Even at his maximum, he could not match Highfive’s charging power, immense yet distributed. He suspected raw accelerating mass would eventually catch up, but it would ultimately be experimental.
Perhaps we can also do a ‘Creation of Adam’ version using fingers, for a more concentrated force. Muhahaha…
Jack was giggling to himself about it in the breakroom, sweaty and exhausted as he downed his second energy drink. The second was non-infused, as he’d entirely passed the limit of quick energy gains, as reported by Mini.
Highfive, sitting nearby and chugging his own energy drink, up-nodded at Jack and said, “Bro, you gotta share, come on!”
Jack cleared his throat and shrugged. “Sure. I was thinking… Creation of Adam.”
“Huh?”
Pulling up the reference image of Michelangelo's famous painting, he sent it to Highfive without explanation.
Highfive squinted into the middle distance for a long moment, then suddenly gasped in excitement. “Oh shit, dude! Hahaha! Yes! That too, man! We’re so doing that! Ah, bro, that’s such a good codename, too…” He shook his head in appreciation and sipped from his can.
Bo, who was also plopped nearby but not sleeping (they’d called it quits with her ‘merely’ in Serious Fatigue this time), said, “Should call it the ‘Shy Best Girl,’ instead.”
They both looked at her in puzzlement.
Rolling her eyes in long-suffering, Bo sat up and cleared her expression while facing them. Her eyes went to the side, expression changing to something ‘shy,’ as she made two pointer fingers and poked them together repeatedly.
Highfive snapped his fingers and pointed. “Right! That’s from anime! The stuff from Old World Japan. I was into those shows with the flashy fighting.”
“Uh-huh,” Jack muttered as he successfully, but barely, fought off a laugh at Bo’s unusual display.
Jack and Highfive shared a more serious, deductive glance. In unison — in supreme unity — they both turned to Bo, shook their heads, and said, “Nah.”
Bo glared at them, lip curling up to one side disfavorably. “Weak. You know I’m right.” After a pause, holding in some further annoyance, she added, “There’s new anime, too, you uncultured swine. Try expanding your horizons a bit. Simpler visual mediums allow for better storytelling, you know.”
A cleared throat caused everyone to turn to Ira, standing nearby. She'd emulated Bo, doing the same shy finger-poking routine, but she did it perfectly. She even included her cheeks showing a ridiculously exaggerated red blush, which indicated she was quite familiar with the source material referenced.
Everyone burst out in laughter. Bo actually laughing made Jack point at her and laugh even harder. She melted downward in her seat and covered her face, shoulders shaking, apparently genuinely embarrassed to be caught guffawing like she was.
Ira had quickly put her arms behind her back, face mostly serene, though slightly upturned lips betrayed a bit of smug satisfaction.
After the laughs died down, Jack declared, “Alright, after that, it at least gets an honorary secondary name.”
Sometime after lunch — which they broke up to eat due to Highfive having a prior personal arrangement — Highfive sent a group message via Mem-text. <Yo! We got another block of two hours available at 1700. I also got a report back that our training has a high efficiency grade as of today. You can look for yourself in our registration, but it’s just a little note. What it means is we have a high priority if we keep it up. Let’s do this, team!>
Your Level has improved to 3.6! Please enter the trance and Calibrate, as this changes your total Allotment.
Control: Cord has improved to 1.7!
Control: Throw has improved to 2.2!
Control: Collect/Collect (Sphere) has improved to 1.4/2.6!
Control: Cloud has improved to 1.2!
Transmute: Quick-change has improved to 0.6!
Transmute: Fluidity has improved to 0.6!
Create: Lift has improved to 0.4!
Interpret: Fieldsense has improved to 0.3!
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕
Inkblot breathed in and then sipped at his gourmet ‘rock tea.’ The young man with chalk-white skin took a deep breath afterward. “Perfect, as always. Now then, Jack, good brother, go ahead and get to why you bribed me with coming here. Despite where we are, I prefer… cutting to the chase.”
They were in the Well of the Dragon Teahouse, an unassuming little place nestled inside the tower, exclusive to those of a sufficiently high clearance, similar to the Central mess hall. Reservations only, certain default pricing per table per hour for the house teas — more was extra. Rather than attempting faux ‘outside’ opulence, it embraced the more claustrophobic, exclusive kind, looking like some ancient, private Chinese dining hall. Well-worn wooden chairs and tables were lit by gorgeous decorative hanging lanterns, each as unique as a snowflake.
It wasn’t empty, but nearly packed for ‘afternoon tea,’ in which many important people seemed to like having a little high-class meeting that generally was too late for lunch and too early for dinner. Jack was certain he was seeing some bigwigs about. In any case, there was one oddity to the place: the background sound was some distant waterfall, sprinkled with relaxing music, and that was all. One could not hear conversations at other tables, not even a whisper.
Cute.
Jack sipped his overpriced tea, too. It was wonderful, despite the fact that there was no way in hell his taste buds were as sophisticated as Inkblots. Sweet floral elements, cinnamon, and some ‘roasted’ quality he couldn’t put his finger on.
Nodding slowly, Jack repeated, “Cutting to the chase, eh? Alright. I wanted to run an idea, a possibility, by you.” He set his tea down and leaned his elbows on the table, rubbing his hands flat together and giving a lopsided grin. “I know you’re fine with being a liaison, but what if you took a shot at the jacket anyway? Or simply showcase your newer capabilities. Your solo career would have greater immediate potential either way. Unattached to a team, naturally, but having displayed a tangible capacity to work with others as necessary. Logically, that’s unavoidable.”
Inkblot’s void-colored eyes blinked. That was rare for him. He frowned, took another sip of tea, set it down, and looked off, contemplative. That he already understood what Jack was getting at was never in question. Finally, he said, “Have you run this by your new team yet? Highfive and Bogus Pocus?”
Jack shook his head. “Not yet. I figured you were the type to prefer it being run by you first.” Inkblot nodded slightly to this. “I think we’ll all agree that a stealth attacker would make us a truly terror-inducing offensive team. I personally think a buffer is unnecessary with a debuffer who sets up kill shots routinely.”
“Role’s not the issue. The perennial underachieving, antisocial, belligerent frag-up, Inkblot — who may already be ineligible for the coat — is.”
“You and I both know you aren’t who you once were. Much like our club idol, Mr. Cash, you’ve come out on the other side.”
“Yeah. Others fail to grasp that.”
“I’m sure you’re more than capable of quickly dispelling obsolete impressions. I can’t know if you could do so for the brass, too. But maybe it’s worth a shot, eh?”
Inkblot’s jaw worked in another frown, and his hairless head turned down slightly to look into his tea, contemplative once more.
Jack was good at reading people. He had no clue what would next come out of Inkblot’s mouth. He did, however, know to be patient with the man and respectfully wait his turn. Inkblot was thinking about it carefully; that was certain. He might do his brand of personal internal calculus and say, ‘Frag it, why not?’ or he might say, ‘No thanks.’ It remained a mystery.
Jack sipped his tea and waited.
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The Occasional Current Bio:
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Shaper of Metal
Material Controller (Metal)
Primary Mutation: Summon Memorial Iron
Governing Attribute: Create
Magnitude (Pressure): 350 (100%); (Force): 280 (80%)
Fitness: Excellent; G.P.E.: 26%; Evasion: 3.3
Level: 3.6
Allotment: 360 [ 350 ]
[ 0.0 ] Augment
[ 4.0 ] Control — Cord 1.7, Cloud 1.2, Throw 2.2, Spear 0.6, Collect: Sphere
1.4/2.6, Strike 0.1
[ 5.6 ] Create — Lift 0.4, Grapple 0.6
[ 1.0 ] Interpret — Fieldsense 0.3
[ 0.0 ] Destroy
[ 2.0 ] Transmute — Quick-change 0.6, Fluidity 0.6
Archon Imbues: Super Sapien Resilience (Toughness 1.2, Hardiness 1.2), Builders of Great Things (Frontier+), Cooperative Solutions (Outer+), Perpetually Learning (Core)
Bondmaking Imbues: Bondsmate Rapport, Symmetrical Seal, Aquatic Adaptation, Helper’s Heart (Beyond/Frontier+), Prey’s Redress (Frontier/Outer+) 0.6, Vindicator (Beyond/Inner+)
Secondary Mutations: Constrictor, Anchors
Techniques: Fragile Spike, Jackettery 1.1, Inner Energy 0.6, Parry 0.4
Comments
Rain Harlow
They all get a choice of three, and folks have their preferences. Slight tailoring to the individual, but in a 'mutational' way, i.e. no guarantees, and it sometimes goes sideways. They might also perceive one class 'better' and go with something they don't like as much, but usually that's not how they're encouraged, to improve the overall quality of advancement and motivation. For sure, it's just a 'percentage' skew, and there are rampant exceptions. Certain things divide the lines more evenly — for example, any person at all inclined toward some sort of gadgeteering will go for it hard if the option is there. The ability to potentially improve one's entire civilization is hard to pass up, no doubt. :P
Thomas V.
Good progress, and a lovely way to round out the team (if Inkblot accepts) and for the existing team to grow. Lovely chapter. I found myself wondering though, are powersets in any way impacted by prevailing gender norms? There’s currently a pretty small sample size, but I noticed many men with more traditionally “masculine” abilities (classic tank, bruiser, tactician, assassin), and women with more “feminine” ones (misdirection, blaster, debuffs, subterfuge). It’s not quite that clear cut of course, and I can think of a few exceptions, I was just wondering if there was an in-universe reason for this (mindset, aptitude, culture, etc). I think it’s pretty interesting either way!
Alex Ledger
It's nice to see Jack understand and give Inkblot space to think in the conversation. Thanks for the stats sheet :)
M van Dongen
Knew he was gunning for Interpret next.....
