Rain Harlow
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Chapter 86
🕑 Added 2025-09-15 15:00:14 +0000 UTCChapter 86: The Limits of Efficiency
At the two charging him, Jack pulled a length of rolled cord from his belt and tossed it, collapsing memorite into it mid-flight and unfurling it into an irregular mass. Both dupes tried to keep their forward momentum and avoid the cord by ducking and rolling under it, in a fluid, agile maneuver, timed right at the last moment.
Jack was well schooled and prepared for such avoidances, owing to copious repetition against Lindsay and other dodge-based sims — most of which his shifu also initially designed or tweaked. In addition, his reflexes and the response from Control 4.0 had greatly improved since those days.
As such, he dropped the cord down in time, one end wrapping around the arm of the weapon-wielder, the other around the leg of the unarmed dupe’s leg. Jack simply fused the metal tight down into the hold he had and jerked the whole cord off to the side, sending the just-risen, unbalanced duo tumbling in a nasty, chaotic tangle and grunting from the sudden injury.
He couldn’t spend all his time on them, however. Immediately after the jerk, he pulled his memorite away and sent it to the problematic upper wall. Just as he did, a knife and a dart came flying his way, forcing him to pivot and block with his shield.
Was a shield the right call, or what?
Jack peeked over the shield just as his memorite collapsed into the greater razor-wire section that had a dupe holding it back with his full weight, with a staff wound around it. At the same time, the two projectile throwers were jumping down. Jack quickly whipped and looped a section around one guy’s neck, even as he was going down. Multitasking, utilizing generic Collect through the greater wire structure, to more or less negate the division of focus, he sharpened the wire wrapped around the staff at the same time, and then tightened and violently jerked them both simultaneously.
The falling man had his own momentum and weight help concentrate cutting force on his neck, which promptly decapitated him and turned him into smoke. The staff-wielder, pulling hard on a now split staff, fell backward, almost slipping off the wall but deftly catching himself.
The other dupe that had dropped down was coming his way, carrying a nasty flail weapon, but Jack still had a window as the dupe had to pick up a little speed to get into melee range. Jack flashed his eyes at the two he’d tangled up — recovering but unable to get the cord off of them, and the sword-wielder had switched weapon hands.
Jack, adrenaline pumping, nonetheless kept his wits about him and decided to switch his attention briefly, intent on securing the walls first to avoid an endless wave coming at him and overwhelming him. Four scalers were navigating the wire along the section he’d left to deal with the staff-wielder problem. The dupes hadn’t cleared it, but three were moments from doing so as they moved frantically. Jack took control of the whole section’s razor-wire, raking and entangling them all to keep them occupied and pinned down from advancing. He also happened to see a hand coming up from the other side of the wall, so he sliced it opportunistically as he whipped metal around, chopping off some fingers. This elicited an ensuing scream, and the muffled sounds of rolling, falling, and such things came from the other side.
He shifted control of the wire network to Anchors, with the maximum into one instance, which was a total of around 150 kilos of Pressure, in addition to quite a bit more at the actual nailed anchor points, and all having to deal with the problematic leverage against sharp, tough metal blades wound around their body parts.
Many cries of pain and cursing resulted as he power-locked the majority of the wire in place, buying himself some time as the clones struggled awkwardly against it.
With that, Jack shifted focus just as the charging dupe came one step from swinging down his already spinning flail. With a fraction of time to squeeze in a counter, he threw out his shield, ripping his hand away and backing up even as he took control of it with memorite, pushing it as fast as he could to get the most distance possible. As it accelerated rapidly, he slammed it into the clone perhaps just shy of two meters distance, but easily with enough force to match a charging linebacker, and with a hard, unyielding hunk of metal — if fairly light.
The dupe had no chance to correct and avoid; his sudden attempt to pivot was doomed to be not enough. Jack cracked him in the upper chest and head, bowling right past him and dropping him hard to the concrete, almost certainly with a nasty concussion.
The bound duo had moved awkwardly, yet miraculously reached him for a (still awkward) swipe of a sword. It was a wild, desperate maneuver, and Jack was already sliding away thanks to his retreat with the shield toss. Sadly, he had to move away from the large blast shield and all but turn his back to the wall. The sharp, ceramic blade only nicked his arm, however, slicing fabric and scoring a surface scratch.
Damn. That felt real.
Jack split his Control, not wanting to let his shield clatter on the ground away from him, arresting what momentum it had left to return it to his hand. Simultaneously, he ripped down with the cord still connecting to the two dupes, at the wrist and leg. They could not stop him, so they both pitched to the ground. In the disorientation this caused them, Jack took full control of the cord and disconnected the ends, moving them to snake around the necks of the dupes. The sword-wielder got immediately ensnared by the throat without a hitch.
The other somewhat randomly managed to grab the cord and hold it off, nonetheless getting tossed like a doll in the process. Jack gritted his teeth in anxiety for the extra time delay, especially with the unfortunate necessity of his facing, but adjusted as quickly as he could — he made the middle section of the cord stretch, fold inward, and then loop around the clone’s neck in one quick motion, while he was otherwise preoccupied with two hands on the snake-like ending.
The cord around both necks tightened viciously like a vice, and they were soon gasping and writhing in pain, grabbing uselessly at their throats by panicked impulse.
Jack felt the shock of pain from an impact in his back, a spike just jamming through his armor and piercing his flesh. Spiky daggers shot through his nerves at the alarming, awful sensation. It also sent some sort of extra, follow-up ‘dragging’ feeling through his muscles.
Minor wound with increased pain simulated, representing a deduced higher impairment than standard. 2-3% physical performance reduction enforced on a gradient for a brief period.
Jack spun around, seeing a dupe crouched and balanced on top of another dupe, using the trapped body to avoid the razor-wire. “Ha!” the voice of Division called tauntingly as he was pulling out another dart. “Finally got your happy ass, turtle boy!”
“It’s Jack, sir,” Jack called, before snaking a tendril of razor wire up from behind the dupe, even as he backed up on the ‘far’ side of the big blast shield, knowing the flail-wielder was recovering.
“Look out!” the Division clone under the thrower called in a strangled voice.
A sudden duck in response wasn’t enough to save him, as Jack looped wire around his neck and twisted it like a garrote. The clone dropped the dart in his hand and flopped, making strangled sounds.
Jack took a moment to look around. Their new flank, previously the front with the big fence, was quite pacified as Highfive ripped up the ranks broken by Jack’s blade of death. More were pouring in from the distant street area, but that general route was secure for a bit.
Behind him, the beleaguered Bo was struggling to hold back the tide on her flank, even as he watched her pelt another approaching dupe in the face with a double shot of the SMG. The heavy bullets cracked the ceramics on the first shot, making the second an easy penetrator. “Need ammo!” she called, almost breathless.
Jack first turned his attention to the wall, moving the razor-wire violently to dump those he’d entangled back the other direction. At least one was executed by decapitation, and another lost a hand. This dealt with, and getting a temporary reprieve in the most immediate wall section, Jack tossed his last mag at Bo’s feet, calling back, “Half empty!”
As Bo emptied the rest of her ammo and knelt to change it out, the flail wielder came bursting at her from the other side of the blast shield, on her flank and almost behind her. Bo just barely caught the charge — the dupe tripped just as his flail was swinging. Bo threw herself backward, avoiding it.
Simultaneously, Jack took control of the entire blast shield next to him, lifted it, and — with the dupe face-planted on the concrete — dropped the big hunk of metal hard and fast on the back of his head, crushing it like a giant grape. He turned to smoke.
Two chargers were coming at Bo on the heels of this from her temporarily ignored front. She shot one in the face and dropped him, and the other spasmed and fell, dropping his weapon-
And then there was a loud buzzer, and the whole environment itself somehow flashed red.
Training session ending condition met: Agent Bogus has reached Fatigue Status: Serious-Unstable.
Bo flopped backward on the concrete into a spread-eagled position, her chest heaving for breath. “My bad,” she muttered, though more with relief than true apology.
“It’s my fault,” Jack said, shaking his head and pulling his helmet and faceplate entirely off. “I put too much on you for too long, and I couldn’t nail things back down.” Jack glanced at the dupes around them, as they were flashing out of existence one by one. He got to see an angle where the blast shield had previously been. “More were coming for us from behind, too, it looks like.”
One of the Division dupes nearby tossed down a blade and crossed his arms, looking at Jack. “Not a bad showing overall, kid. Especially for an amateur.”
Jack chuckled and nodded. “Thanks. It was an honor sparring with you, sir.”
“Would be a different story, full power, full agility.”
“I have no doubt, sir.”
As Division clones rapidly winked out, Highfive, just on the other side of the fence nearby, clapped and yelled out, “Great job, team!” His sheath disappeared around him, lowering him to mere giant human height again. He took his helmet off and grinned at Jack, his teeth coated in blood. “Seeing that lawnmower maneuver was worth the costs, bro! If we had one more watching out back, we’d have been golden.”
Seeing the blood made Jack frown — and wince from the persistent, nagging pain in his back. He reached a hand over and ripped out the dart still stuck in the armor, pulling it around and seeing his own blood on the end. “Did someone forget to tell me we take actual wounds in these sims?”
“Huh? Didn’t I?”
“Probably not,” Bo said from the ground. “Only superficial wounds… enough to not want to get hit… as Nons, we aren’t truly in danger from cuts and bruises…”
Highfive looked at Jack and thrust out his bottom lip. In baby talk, he said, “Aww, does Jacky Wacky have a whiddle boo boo? Gonna ask mommy to kissy-wissy?”
“I’m not kissing it.”
Highfive jerked his head toward her, scandalized. “I didn’t mean you! What the hell?”
Despite the taunt toward him, Jack smirked. “Well, point taken. I won’t mention it again.”
Highfive shrugged, still half-frowning at Bo. “Just busting your balls, bro. No biggie. Let’s hit the breakroom for rest and refresh.”
Jack walked over to offer a hand to Bo. After a moment, she took it and got up with a grunt. When Jack went to pull free, she held firm and leaned in. “Bad cuts can scar, and bad bruises hurt performance. Be open to treating what needs it. You can just ask your Mini-Mem to assess. Unless you wanna be a macho dipshit, that is.”
Jack blinked at her, but nodded. “Got it. Thanks.”
She nodded and let go, working one arm’s muscles and groaning. “Gonna need some soaking myself, after this shit…uuuuugh…”
Jack picked up his KC-2, then opened up the fence’s metal for them to walk through, finally letting his memorite collapse back into him. His fatigue had only hit Minor during the altercation, and that mainly from one brief period of high uptick. He’d been pretty efficient. Perhaps he should’ve pushed a little more. They might’ve lasted a bit longer if his output had been 5-10% higher through the less stressful periods.
When they shuffled into the breakroom, Ida was waiting with a first aid kit in her hands. She nodded. “Nicely done, Junior Agents. I obtained a great deal of useful data. Now, does anyone need medical treatment?” She gave Jack a brief, but very clearly insistent look.
“I’ll take a once-over,” Jack replied immediately, getting another, exceptionally satisfied nod from Ira.
Highfive, by some uncanny ‘pressure,’ ensured their eyes met momentarily, and he mockingly stuck out his bottom lip again briefly. Jack rolled his eyes and tried to keep a smirk off his face.
Bo peeled off her helmet and dropped it to clang on the floor, soon half-stumbling and shambling with acceleration toward the couches, holding her hands out directly forward and wriggling her fingers like some sort of pitiful zombie. “Beeeed… sooooft… naaaap…”
As Bo plopped face-first on the couch with a throaty groan of sheer pleasure, Highfive called out, “Hey!” with his hands on his hips, glaring at her. “No sleeping until you have some water with NPs, at the least!” At Bo’s indefinite groan in response, Highfive repeated, “Hey! Don’t just groan at me! Get the hell up!”
Bo, groaning some more, twisted and flopped around on her back, eyes heavy-lidded. “I could drink. Could you get it for me?”
Highfive’s brow furrowed severely as he glared. “Are you kidding me?! Do I look like your servant? Am I a tussle-haired tomboy who zaps things and caters to your every whim?”
Bo pulled off her gloves and put one hand up to her forehead, suddenly transformed into a fainted leading lady of a 20th-century film in Technicolor. “Please? I need my strength.”
“No!”
“You could be my boyfriend if you do.”
“Lies! Also: no thanks. You’re too high maintenance.”
“Harsh but fair.” Bo closed her eyes, breathing heavily through her mouth, looking especially exhausted and melted into the couch. “My next tactic is thus… pretty please, Fiver?”
Highfive glared a moment longer, his mouth scrunching up in a frown, then sighed and looked to the heavens for relief. “What a ridiculous diva… why did I get saddled with her, Mother? Why?!” Defeatedly, he turned toward the refreshment area, muttering balefully, “Just gonna waste our time not recovering faster, if I don’t… It's entrapment! That’s the word, right? Yeah, entrapment…”
“Thank yooooou, Fiveeer…” Somehow, the authenticity was lacking. It was more like satisfaction.
As this was going on, Jack took a seat on a cushioned, rolling stool and stripped off his top layers to give access to both of his wounds. Both he and Ira were a bit distracted by the hilarious, fascinating antics of the other two. Jack still had a big grin when Ira began cleaning his back wound, and she was clearly shaking a bit from hiding her laughter.
“I really like them,” Neex said warmly via the mind link. “They are fun to observe, as Ira. But I also hope I get to be myself around them one day.”
“Me too,” Jack replied. “All in good time, I’m sure.”
“I can tell you and Fiver have a great rapport together. I am enjoying what I believe is called a ‘bromance’?”
“Ah, psh, ah, well, I wouldn’t put a label on it, exactly… I dunno if that’s quite accurate…”
“Oh! My mistake, sorry. Regardless, you coordinate well and are in sync in numerous ways. Meanwhile, Bo has an abrasive surface personality, but suits and serves her support role quite naturally in the field. I think you’ll make a good team together. Were I to assist, I’d shore up some of Bo’s defensive weaknesses and supplement her energy reserves as much as possible. Highfive mostly seems to need flanking guards and some sort of ranged option.”
“Neex, I’m definitely looking forward to what you come up with, one day. I dunno if this is my team after I get my jacket — if I get it, rather — but I’m going for broke with them for now.”
“The more powers I observe in use, the better, even inhibited here. I’m… hoping I can devise a means to mitigate distance issues, inspired by our link and the way your powers work. If I have time when I'm home, I may be able to fashion a mimicry of at least part of that function. If so, a return here would be massively more informative!”
“Awesome. Planning on coming back, already, huh?”
“It’s more that I’m planning on remaining in my bondsmate’s company, wherever he goes. I’m sure you’ll be coming and going.”
“Very likely true.” Jack still had mixed feelings about Neex being endangered, but he had no right to deny it — and some part of him very much liked the idea, in what he regarded as some sort of emotional hypocrisy.
Well, she’s still gotta figure out the distance thing, if we’re also outside Q-Loth’s territory. Otherwise, she’d be too weak compared to the general buffs I’ll give the rest of my team.
After some cleaning, healing gel application, and bandages firmly in place, Jack put his shirt back on and started to head over to the water area, but Ira grabbed his arm, met his eyes, and shook her head. “Have a seat, Junior Agent.”
Jack smiled as he took a seat on another couch diagonal to the one Bo was plopped on. Bo was sipping from a straw in a giant plastic mug of sorts, lying with her back up to a throw pillow. When Jack had his own giant mug delivered overhead, he murmured a thank you, and promptly sipped at a refreshing, cool Infused liquid of a sweet, lemony, sports drink type of flavor. Wonderful.
“Ahhh!”
“Could I get you a snack, too, Junior Agent?” Ira asked.
“Oh, would you, please? That would be fantastic and appreciated, thank you. A candy bar.”
“I wouldn’t mind one, myself,” Bo added, “if it isn’t too much trouble.”
“Oh, not at all,” Ira said with a faint, polite smile. “Two candy bars for the needs of hard-working cadets, coming right up.”
“Thank you, doll. You’re the best.”
Bo met Jack’s eyes and held up her drink in salute. Jack responded in kind, and they shared a grin of mutual satisfaction, however different the means in which they’d obtained it.
Damn, but do I feel like some kinda warrior king on his throne right now. Might be silly, but no one will ever know. Aside from maybe Bo, but a spoiled queen wouldn’t rat me out. Hehehe…
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Comments
Thomas V.
Hey Jack? Neex can literally read your mind, Jack. What if she found out somehow, hm, Jack? Now wouldn’t that be embarrassing. So careful there that you don’t make it a habit, Jack!
