Rain Harlow
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Chapter 69
🕑 Added 2025-07-28 15:00:14 +0000 UTCChapter 69: The Mettle of Training
The trio of agents Lopez, Sato, and Jack slunk up to the apartment door. It was in an annoying spot — right smack at the end of the middle of a ‘T’ hallway, which was strange architecture to Jack. But he supposed he wasn’t an architect. Fortunately, no one was visible down the length of the new curse of their apparent luck.
There were some muted sounds of a TV program from beyond the door. Jack sent a Mem-text to the local team. Slower to convey for Lopez, but oh well — silent was silent. <Huge custom lock in the middle, smaller one up top. I’m going to morph the metal aside to be quiet. I can also move the door handle latch in so we can just swing the door freely inward without handle-turning noise. Do it now, Sato?>
Sato was quick to reply. <Do your thing with the latches and tell us immediately after. As you deal with the handle, we’ll flip the electronic lock, and Lopez will burst in.> As he said this, Jack’s interface suddenly began flashing text over his vision, reading, ‘ELECTRONIC LOCK CLOSED…’
<Roger that.>
Jack subsequently began pumping memorite into the latches until he had enough to fully manipulate the metal. He utilized Control: Shape along with the enhancing efficiency of Transmute. For the top, he made the metal liquidly flow into the shape of the rest of the latch mechanism, essentially just ‘thickening’ it, for the most minimal of visible changes. For the big pole, he simply made a gap in the metal where they needed it, flowing excess metal slightly in both directions away from the gap. If someone were watching it all directly, they’d be alerted, but it was otherwise as discreet as possible. There was no point in the sight picture being any more obvious than it needed to be.
That done, with no bars blocking the door any longer, he switched his control over to the door handle, namely the little piece fitting into the hollow to keep the door closed until the handle was turned. He held it ready. <Done!>
Jack pushed the metal piece in silently, just as the text began flashing ‘LOCK OPEN! GO!’
Lopez charged through the door, soon leading them all to pour into the immediate living area, as they trained their weapons on stunned people sitting on couches. Lopez simultaneously called out in a loud, aggressive voice, “Agentus Exemplar, hands up now! Hands up, hands up!”
Sato called out the same general thing, with equal aggression.
Jack couldn’t spare the focus, already moving memorite outward, pumping his output to 90% for relative peak levels of power for whatever he’d need. His intent and target was to reach out toward metal concealed in clothing, utilizing exploratory Interpret, and to otherwise sweep his eyes looking for where else he might see firearms.
But they all noticed a big problem just as the comms were erupting with a report: the little girl was sitting on what must be her mother’s lap, munching on a cookie. Nearby, a giant tray from the oven was sitting on the coffee table, and everyone was cramming cookies into their mouths, some with chocolate smeared around their lips, and not just the four-year-old. The air was heavy with the bizarre mixed scents of questionable hygiene, the funk of recreational drugs, and the damning sweetness of fresh-baked, pre-made cookie dough.
“Girl isn’t in here!” Thomas called on the comms in alarm.
InSite must’ve been busy. Damn.
The little girl was supremely shocked to see them, eyes as wide as they could go, cookie still held in her mouth. The others were nearly the same. The mother — in a delayed reaction — screamed.
Shreddy, a man with a stiff silver mohawk dressed in heavy layers, was the fastest to move into action, scowling and rising, even as he was reaching into his jacket. Annoyingly, though, Jack found no metal on him! Just as he considered adjusting his strategy, Lopez, with crack reflexes, zapped Shreddy in the middle of his maneuver. Whether that was a good or bad thing for the mission, it was probably the right call.
Meanwhile, Jack found two obvious handguns — one in the pocket of a pair of very baggy pants on a tough-looking guy, and another on the coffee table. Jack, his adrenaline pumping hard, perceived everything on a different level. The twitching, tensing muscles of the tough guy showed he was going for his piece, and a scar-faced young woman with short, polka-dot colored hair was eyeing the one on the table.
Jack didn’t bother deliberating — he focused hard on the two weapons he could deal with. He grabbed all the inner workings of the guns and fused them together. They were turned into metal bricks on the inside. They’d waste time trying to use them, though.
With little time to spare for communication, he still sent a Mem-text. <Goon handguns disabled. Non-functional. No metal on Shreddy.>
Shreddy was in the middle of seizing, as Lopez was already releasing the trigger and swinging the weapon rightward, with trained speed and precision. He shot the still-sitting polka-dot lady as she reached for the table. Sato had his weapon trained on the third ‘goon’ present, who was right next to the four-year-old, but he was holding his hands up.
Unfortunately, the mother with the girl did not put her hands up. Rising with the child, who was now bawling and burying her head on her mother’s shoulder, she moved rapidly out of the lines of fire away from the couch, screaming in hysterics. Technically, that was putting her right in the line of fire as she had to pass by Sato’s trained aim on the third goon.
Jack was both distracted and puzzled by exactly what to do about her. His instincts told him the idea of her being a hostage risk with her own kid was ludicrous, and she was simply acting protectively. And with the girl, there was no way he could shoot her.
<Let her go.> Sato sent to the group, never wavering in his aim. <Thomas, mother, and daughter headed your way.>
<Roger that.> Thomas replied with the hint of a sigh.
Jack was glad it had come down to their call rather than that of the fanatical Lopez, whether it was truly a risk or not.
Shreddy yelped in a shrill sound as he dropped down, and the polka-dot lady flopped and slid from the couch as she was zapped. The goon in the baggy pants pulled his gun, gave a non-verbal cry, and tried to pull the trigger to blast on Lopez. A hair after this, Lopez swung his rifle around and zapped the guy, who dropped, turning his war cry into a gurgling sound.
Damn. Might be fanatical, but he’s earned Exemplar and then some.
Things seemed to be going pretty decently despite the mother not obeying them…
Shreddy, apparently in a heap, suddenly jerked and flung something he’d pulled out, his face flashing a rictus of malicious glee briefly before he ducked away under the coffee table. A high-powered electro-rifle zap to the chest had not incapacitated the bastard?!
For Jack, it was one of those moments he’d had in training — time seemed to slow down for him, as he sensed something very bad was happening on multiple levels. His output surged up to maximum values. The thing tossed to roll on the floor was like a fat, oversized egg, and his immediate instinct — his drill-induced, habitual snap assessment — was that it was some kind of strange, non-metallic grenade. His brain categorized it quickly as in the realm of a ‘pipe bomb.’
<Bomb! Take cover!> Jack moved forward and grabbed Sato, forcing him behind his back and throwing him to the floor. Simultaneously, he collapsed his entire Jackette, along with all of his memorite in it and from everywhere around him, down onto the grenade, forming something like a metal bowl first and foremost, with the ‘inner lining’ the interlaced and compressed strength of the Jackette. Regardless, all he could do was ‘hold’ at his full applied power, because it was mostly not real metal, and besides that, he’d worry about counterproductive added shrapnel in that case.
He slid the thing away from everyone. He didn’t know how much time he had, but he kept sliding it-
It detonated, and the force was something he intuitively felt was impossible to contain. So he split the top open in the hopes that an upward blast would mitigate the damage.
A deafening crack resounded, and a concussive wave burst up from under the lip as well as out from the breached and shredded top. It knocked him back, and maybe wouldn’t have been enough to bowl him over, but he ended up tripping over Sato, the assisted concussion knocking him on his ass. It proved to be a good thing.
A sound like hundreds of electro-stunners blistered in the air, as fine little needles with trailing ‘threads’ exploded primarily in angles upward, though some were fired at head and neck height. A huge network made a spider web of fibrous lines embedding in the ceiling, electricity briefly arcing between the strands like lightning set loose. A scant number had slipped from underneath the lid Jack had made, most of them broken and bent on the floor immediately near his ‘bowl,’ which now looked like a malformed vase.
In the aftermath, Jack sought out Shreddy, and he saw him crawling out from the coffee table, eyes looking desperately for the exit while reaching into his coat again…
Jack whipped his mass of active memorite at Shreddy, coming from behind and forming into a thick tendril. With the practiced, cold ease of endless repetition and dueling, the coil came wrapping around Shreddy’s neck and made a double wrap before he could blink, quickly tightening and pushing him downward to eat the floor.
This piece of shit motherfragger is about to take a nap.
Shreddy made a strangled sound and managed to jerk and flop himself into a sideways position, hands rising to his neck. As he did, the big egg thing in his hand went bouncing and rolling toward Jack’s head, its rubbery exterior a bit sticky and visibly picking up dirt along the way.
Oh shit!
“I got it!” came the voice of Lopez, as he scooped the thing up, ran with it in two hands, and then punted it out the door.
Jack’s heart leapt into his throat at that risky impact, but the exterior of the ‘electro-bomb’ had serious give to it and, like the ball that it was, went sailing down the immediately long hallway Jack suddenly regarded as a blessing rather than a curse. It could even be seen to bounce once before it detonated in a huge cascade of needle-darts, fibers, and bright electrical pulses extended from a central nexus, filling the hallway like a giant ‘lightning spider’ had left a trap for denizens.
Distant yelling and exclamations filtered from multiple angles in the building. A head poked out of a doorway down the hallway just as Lopez was closing the door.
“We’re handling the apartment officials and the general shitstorm caused in the building,” Sander said calmly on the comms. “Continue your mission roles.”
Shreddy was already thrashing around in a weakened state, getting sluggish just before someone would pass out from brain oxygen deprivation. Jack eased the pressure to keep him delirious but not passed out, and rebalanced his memorite to cannibalize metal from the convenient big pole of steel nearby, to bind Shreddy’s hands, force them behind his back, and also bind his ankles together. His little rebellion was over.
Jack got to a knee as he took stock of the rest of the room. Everyone else was down except for Sato, who was standing and sweeping his weapon around, barking commands as he edged himself into a corner, keeping his distance from the strange ‘bloom’ of fibers extended to the ceiling. He was close to Ms. Windtaker, who was unconscious. One of the bomb needles was sticking into her bare foot as she had almost cleared around the corner of the hallway before getting tagged. No one else had apparently gotten hit. The one guy conscious other than Shreddy was down on the floor face-down, with his hands over the back of his head.
The child’s riotous bawling could be heard down the hallway.
Probably a good sign.
Thomas’s helmet came flashing from around the corner briefly. “Got the kid,” he called. “She seems fine despite a tumble. She’s crying on my shoulder.”
“Just go to the room,” Sato commanded. “Stay there. We’re secure, here.”
“Is that what you call it, sir?” ‘Polite’ sarcasm.
No one answered, remaining subdued. Someone detonating a bomb in your face — and another almost in your face — was not usually considered a successful sort of mission execution.
It could be a lot worse, though.
“Can’t believe this sonuvabitch shrugged off a zap,” Lopez muttered, looking down at the bound form of the mohawked man, his rifle now back in his hands and ready to shoot whoever twitched.
“I can’t believe that punt job of yours,” Jack commented as he finally rose to his feet.
“I was a punter, after all — I’d better be able to pull it off. I’ve also seen bounce-bombs, though not with… that inside. More than one example of providence was proven today. Memoria is with us, brother.”
“Can the chatter,” Sato said. “Steel, bind everyone like Shreddy. Keep him awake, if you can.”
“Roger,” Jack replied. He swiftly divvied up metal bands to bind people with, feeling more than a little weird to do it on unconscious people, especially Ms. Windtaker. Ultimately, her instincts to run away had been right and justified, possibly even from knowing what sort of shit her ‘boyfriend’ was packing.
Sato went over to kneel by Shreddy, who was just getting his senses back, groaning as he blinked into awareness, jerked, and realized he was bound. Sato pulled another one of the bombs out of his coat, as well as a holdout-style, all-plastic electric stunner. That was a fairly standard and legal self-defense weapon unless it was hot-shotted for illegal, potentially lethal voltage levels.
Sato took off his helmet to set it on the floor. Snapping his fingers in Shreddy’s face to get his attention, Sato said, “You’re in some serious shit, Shreddy. Resisting officers, child endangerment, detonating bombs on Memorial Agentus. That’s immediate grounds for terrorist classification. If you want to start rolling back your life being over, I suggest you cooperate with us.”
Shreddy scowled, showing rows of artificial, red-colored teeth with overly prominent canines. Meanwhile, his eyes were modified. Reptilian slits, with neon red irises. “Smoke yourself, copper,” he said in a guttural voice, eyes going wide and wild. “I answer higher.” He put on a cocky, shark-like grin.
“Higher, is it? Who would that be?”
Shreddy continued grinning, shaking his head. His eyes took in the others. “The uncorrupted.” His emphasis was very accusative. He looked at Jack, seeing only a mask, but hating him all the same. Spittle flew from his mouth as he jerked his head forward and said, “People with answers instead of lies. Nothing you ass-eating pigs would understand.”
“Is that what you call running from your handler, Shreddy? In fear?”
Shreddy’s grin faded. He looked Sato up and down in a cross between challenge and disgust. “Think I don’t get it, copper? Everybody digs, everybody buries bones when the heat is on. Part of the game. I can ride it out.”
“Do you seriously not get where you’re at, homeboy? You’re not riding anything out anymore. This is Consequences For Your Actions Boulevard, and you blew the gates wide open. Crashed and burned.”
Shreddy just glared back balefully at him without response.
Sato pinged the CFLEX chat. <Got a name for his handler: Ugallu.>
Bermuda: <Good. That tracks with assumptions. Anything else?>
<Gotta poke more. Guy is warped beyond belief. Everything is buried in heavy fog, and I can hardly pull anything more than confusion. I don’t like it.>
Shreddy had turned his gaze on Lopez to the side and behind Sato. A scowl turned into a wild, evil grin.
“You got something to say, shitstain?” Lopez asked, annoyed. “Never seen a man as devil-possessed as you, and I’ve seen a lot of shit.”
Shreddy grinned wider, staring. “Tiamat comes. Her children come. Malu-u namriruka irsita rapasta!”
Jack grimaced at the oily feel of the words. Ugh. This is ultra bad. Is his being able to talk worth it?
“What the frag was that?!” Lopez pointed his rifle at Shreddy, clearly anxious and disturbed. “I’ll zap your ass into-”
“Shut the hell up, Lopez!” Sato yelled, turning to glare at him. “Knock. It. Off.”
As Lopez growled and dropped his weapon, muttering, ‘yessir,’ Shreddy laughed tauntingly. Before he could add more taunts that would exacerbate the situation, Jack took the liberty of tightening the ‘collar’ around Shreddy’s neck, which made his laughter cut off very quickly. He jerked as he wheezed for breath, eyes rolling around wildly, as he couldn’t know the source. Jack eased up, though he didn’t let it get comfortable.
Sato started snapping his fingers in Shreddy’s face again. “Hey! Hey, look at me! Listen to me, Shreddy — actually, enlighten me, why don’t you? What was that? Who taught you that? You must be an important guy to learn it. But who’s the true voice of Tiamat?”
“This is demonic shit,” Lopez muttered under his breath, fidgeting.
Jack kept a wary eye on the man, his disturbed behavior worrisome.
Shreddy stared right through Sato. “We’re all deliverers,” he whispered. “May those with ears hear!” His voice became a snarl, his face red and straining, as spittle flew again from his mouth. “Lippa-asru imti sa ibasu-u iliya!”
The last was especially baleful, and Jack felt an inherent wrongness to it, like verbal pollution staining the air. ‘Incantation’ came to mind. He was about to choke the man again to shut him up, whatever Sato wanted, when his wary eyes caught the rapid motion of Lopez pulling his sidearm out.
That man’s crack-trained, veteran quickdraw speed was nearly supernatural, and what he was doing was so absurd it was difficult to believe and track. But Jack did have supernatural speed.
As Lopez tried to pop lethal rounds into Shreddy’s skull, Jack twitched reactively with his powers thanks to many, many training sessions with Lindsay honing precisely such reflexes — free memorite collapsed into the weapon and the gun jerked sideways. Three quick semi-auto shots went off in succession, blowing through the nearby wall no more than a hand’s length from Shreddy’s head.
Sato immediately tackled the man. One more shot hit the wall before Jack reached into the pistol and ruined the inner works, fusing it together.
“He has to die!” Lopez called out, incensed, insistent as he struggled. “Memoria told me personally, damn it! You gotta listen to me, Agent Sato! Please!”
“Shots fired!” Thomas said in the comms. “The hell is happening in there?! Report!”
“Lopez went rogue,” Jack said vaguely. “Handling it!” He didn’t have time for more, nor could he bring himself to say the word ‘Deranged’ about the man. He cast it out of his mind and began maneuvering metal into position to help Sato…
On the comms, Lopez began almost screaming, “Shreddy has to die! Listen to me-” He was cut off completely on a dime.
“I killed his comms,” Sander said, ice-calm as always, with zero histrionics. “Secure Lopez and stand by for adjustments. Shut Shreddy up.”
Shreddy had flopped sideways onto the floor, cackling away as if at a good joke.
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Fun chapter getting to see Jack perform on the established, written foundation of his training. Much was sacrificed to do so, I think, but that's what I got the wild hairs to do. Hope it was enjoyable and remains compelling. We're not exactly done with Shreddy, though it might not be obvious what direction it goes.
Comments
Thomas V.
Pretty sure it’s the latter, what with “may those with ears hear” and all that. Still plenty dangerous though.
Christoffer Gustafsson
I wonder, are those words filled with hostile archon mind corrupting bs, or are they just trigger words to tickle something deeper in the mind?
Bunny Waffles
Oh goody. We really are playing with Lovecraft rules now aren't we? Corruption trasmissiable just by some words uttered by a cultist. THAT doesn't bode well.
