Rain Harlow
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Chapter 56
🕑 Added 2025-06-12 15:00:09 +0000 UTCChapter 56: Spooks and Lies
True to Lindsay’s claims, the day did not have any meetings or training with her. Instead, he had a training guide plan via Mini that he could follow, or alter if he desired, and was to utilize either her or Lifeguard while in Power Park for any simulation input, or whatever else he needed. If he slacked off too much, Lifeguard was watching and would step in, but Lindsay told him he had plenty of leeway. A mix of combat practice and simple, long-term basic use was the most important thing.
Jack had no intention of slacking off. He planned on starting off sticking to his lesson plan, and if he started seeing something he wanted to alter down the road, he could adjust. He also told Lifeguard to stop him if he ever reached ‘diminishing returns’ on something, similar to what Lindsay would do. Lifeguard plainly stated she wasn’t as sensitive as Lindsay was to his ability use, but she would do what she could.
So Jack began his routine in Power Park, training a little bit in everything, from target practice, to parrying bullets, to Spear practice, to lifting heavy masses, to Cord and Grapple work against Lifeguard-directed simulations, to Transmute practice and other basic, sit-down, high-focus work. A bit more progress was achieved, and he didn’t feel like much was lost without Shifu Lindsay there. It felt more like she was there in spirit: her prescription was still being executed, the daily discipline simply continuing where it left off.
Albeit less cute.
Control: Throw improved to 1.5!
Control: Spear improved to 0.3!
Transmute: Quick-change improved to 0.3!
One thing he didn’t see in the prescription to follow over time was Evasion training. That was likely on the assumption it would improve a bit with every combat sim, as it was relevant when things got hairy and other defenses broke down. He had Mini feather in some dedicated training, though. Getting better at dodging, rolling, and so forth seemed a smart boost, especially because he hadn’t ever specifically trained. A fractional bonus was highly probable.
After a rest period and a splash of physical training, he went to have lunch with Highfive again. They opted for eating at Highfive’s kitchen table instead of at the mess hall, as the plan was to talk about hush-hush subjects.
Just as two hungry, hungry boys were sitting down and digging in, Lindsay sent him a message via Mem-text. <Proud of you, Jack! You did well. I told you that you didn’t need me anymore.>
As he bit into a very expensive and delicious beef burger, Jack replied back, <Stop spying on me, stalker. Do your other work.>
<Oh, the nerve! I’m spying on my lunch break, thank you very much! That’s entertainment for us spooks, you know. Spying on juicy things.>
<Juicy? So, do you pass around my deets to show it off to your coworkers?>
<Maybe. That’s classified, though.>
<Like hell it is! Yes or no, Lindsay.>
She didn’t reply back. Jack shook his head, picturing her smugly eating some noodles and high-fiving another agent about the whole thing. It would be just like her to. Then again, it was even more just like her to tease him and make him think something like that.
“What’s up, bro?” Highfive asked around a mouthful of chicken salad. “You look annoyed.”
“Eh,” Jack said with a grunt. “It’s nothing. Though I can apparently announce that I’m now in the ‘flexible training’ stage. No more of the exclusive, direct oversight of Agent Boiler! Somewhat setting my own schedule and pace.”
“Rad!” Highfive nodded slowly. “After Level 3, start looking for developing teams coming up, Jackman. Find that threefer, like I said. If you’re still accelerating with levels, it shouldn’t be hard to catch up to Level 4 doing team training, and sparring starts early once you get your four people. Sparring, as in early matches. The sort that causes falling outs and team changes, but they all matter, you know? And we don’t technically do tournaments. But big teams always end up facing each other. Big matches make careers.”
Jack half-devoured his burger as he listened. He took a long swig of his drink. “Any tricks to getting to Level 3 quicker, by the way?”
Highfive thought about it. “New stuff. Uncovered ground. Like teams, but that’s for progress after Level 3. You’ve been doing simulations. What about duels in VR with trainers? Nonny class loadouts?”
“Yep. Did the VR duels.”
“You fought a long, drawn-out one? Like a Guardian?”
“Yep.”
“And probably a super offensive powerhouse like a Blaster or other long-range type?”
“Yep.”
“Hmm. What about like a… mind games type duel? Slower pace, maybe cloak and dagger type shit?”
Jack sat back and marveled. “Yeah — a Stalker that used darkness. Is it really so standardized?”
Highfive shrugged. “Different combat scenarios? Oh yeah. But it’s different depending on your powers. Anyway, it sounds like plenty of bases got covered. Hmm…” He seemed to be thinking deeply about it as he continued eating his salad. Suddenly, he perked up. “Oh! What about with non-trainers?”
Jack shook his head. “It was only ever with Agent Boiler.”
Highfive snapped his fingers and pointed. “There it is! Need a real duel, bro. Or a few. Just imagine you were growing up with this shit. Would you be dueling?”
“Obviously, yes.”
“Gotta cover all the bases, Jackman! You’ll want to try and find someone around your level. As much, uh, authenticity as possible, in other words, not sims. I think the System knows, you know?”
“Noted. Thanks. Will have to try and arrange it.” He finished off his burger and went to his second one, different but still tasty, made of beans and such rather than beef. “On the subject of covering all my bases… I need to work on my callsign, probably.”
Highfive shook his head. “You keep saying that, dude…”
Jack chuckled. “I do, don’t I?”
“Well, come on, already! Let’s hear them.”
“Ehh… I dunno about this…”
“Dude, just lay them on me! You gotta screen this shit through someone! I’m your bro, I won’t steer you wrong!”
Jack debated it internally as he ate his food, with Highfive grinning and waiting the whole time. Finally, Jack sighed. “Okay…” Which one first? Oh, what about the one that incorporates my name? “How about this: Sterling Jack.”
Highfive made a face like he’d bit into a lemon. “Uh. No.” He shook his head emphatically.
“What?! It has my name, which I already use. And Sterling — you know, like silver, which is metal…” He trailed off, seeing Highfive’s deeply negative reaction.
Highfive was shaking his head even more emphatically, and even waved his hands. “Nope, nope, nope! Next!”
Jack frowned. “Fine. What about… Lodestone?”
Highfive made an appreciative face. “Nice ring to it. Not bad. Kinda understated. Anything else?”
Jack thought about it. A certain idea. Maybe too simplistic, though.
“Ooh!” Highfive said suddenly, chewing his food and pointing with a fork. He swallowed and said, “Big Iron!”
“What?”
“Yeah, Big Iron! Dude, that’s you!”
“The hell are you…?” He squinted his eyes in sudden recollection. “What is that from? A movie? Wait. No. A song, isn’t it?”
Highfive clapped his hands together as he nodded, pointing over and over. “Dude, I don’t give a shit what you come up with, that’s your nickname now!”
Jack frowned mildly at him. “I’ll have to dig up the song…”
Nodding, Highfive suddenly furrowed his brows and began a serenade. “And he's here to do some business wiith a big iron on his hip… Big iron on his hiiiiiip…”
Jack laughed. “That’s right. Shit, I haven’t heard that since I was a kid! Kinda shit my uncle would listen to. All the Old West shit from the American Analog Recovery.” He shook his head. “I dunno about that as an official name. Besides, it refers to a damn gun. Maybe if I was a Blaster.” He ate his food as he thought about it some more. “Iron… Iron Age? Eh. I dunno.”
Highfive snickered. “More like Iron Aged.”
“Aged to perfection.” He threw a balled-up napkin at his friend. “Also, frag yourself.”
It bopped Highfive’s head and hit the floor. “Hey, look, it’s maybe not bad, just a little, uh… pretentious? Yeah. Like, what, you’re starting a new era?”
Jack waggled his eyebrows pretentiously. “Maybe I am, actually.”
“Big Iron getting a big head — should’ve seen it coming!”
“Alright, I’ll throw the last one out: Foundry.”
“Ooh. Not bad. Alright, man, you've got options. Ask others if you want.”
“You’re not going to commit to a favorite?”
Highfive grinned. “I already have mine. It’s over, Big Iron.”
“Pft. Thanks for nothing.”
“Hey, bro, you need to feel this through with a little time. Besides, you also don’t have to speak that embarrassment of a first name to anyone else ever again. I made that sacrifice. For you.”
Jack maintained a deadpan as he bit into some fries. “Gee, what a guy.”
Highfive held his hands out as though supremely gracious. “I do what I can!”
They finished off their food and disposed of wrappers and such in the trash. As they were standing and sipping at their drinks, Jack asked, “And what’s new with you, Fiver?”
“Think we’re gonna start tryouts for members soon. I’m fishing around, and I have time, it seems like. Still feels weird that I’m doing this at all. Eh! I’m good for it. And I think Bo can hit Level 6 within a week if she keeps at it.”
“Awesome.” Do I need to hit Level 3 or 4? He thought about mentioning himself right then, but he also kinda wanted to just show up at the ‘tryouts’ at as high of a level and experience as he could get. An amusing thought. Perhaps it would end up farer, too, with their crew having some options. The last thing he’d want to do is drag others down. Better to prove he belonged.
The idea began to grow on him, so he kept the card in his pocket.
Highfive snapped his fingers, a sign of a sudden ‘epiphany’ in the Fiver Behavioral Dimension. “Yo, maybe you can duel my lil’ bro, Dozer! He’s young, but he’s around your same level.”
“Beat up a kid? Well, who can pass that up?”
“Dude, it ain’t like that! He’s dueled before, and you’re better off not underestimating him. He’s a Disruptor. Puts people to sleep, based on some kinda Allotment comparison. So, for you, he can slow you down. Worse, depending. Won’t say more. But you two fighting is good for both of you. I mean, I know it reveals this or that, but the big thing won’t be, right? I’ll tell Dozer to keep his mouth shut, too.”
“Cool power. Uh… people are going to find out basically what I do, if they don’t already know. And they’ll know my level range if I do this. But, hell… I can’t pass up possibly leveling up. Alright, sure; I’m sold. Let’s do it.”
“Great! I’ll try to set it up for tomorrow, if possible. Hmm. Actually, maybe tonight?”
“Works fine for me. Tonight is better. No duels today, but might have them tomorrow.”
“I’d prioritize this. Alright, though. Will try for tonight.”
“As long as you’re not drawing a crowd and placing bets or something.”
Highfive rubbed his chin with his eyes squinted, as if seriously considering it. Jack pushed him in the shoulder, and he broke into laughter, waving his hands. “Nah, nah, bro. Power Park for ease, and I can’t even go there.”
“Alright then. Thanks for your advice. I’m gonna head out, though.” He did the customary fist bops with Highfive, adding in a side-to-side, and then a snapping fingergun. “Gotta run with Bo — and you’re not invited.” He grinned. “We might make out and all.” A lie, of course.
He segued this into walking for the exit.
“That’s bullshit, Jack!” Highfive called after him. “I know you’re not into each other! She only likes starving artists ‘n shit! I got stuff to do anyway — I don’t care!”
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕
The run with Bo was, in fact, just a run. They began with few pleasantries and a quick sprint. Racing wasn’t necessary, and he knew Bo wasn’t a big fan of losing in futility, so they just set a mutual high pace and alternated to slower at their own general pace, mostly not next to each other for the first leg to ‘get the sweat going.’
After a while, though, they fell into a mutual medium jog, then eventually to casual, slow jogging for a while, running together.
Bo was quiet as usual. Jack decided to stir conversation and said, “Mind giving opinions on possible callsigns?”
She turned her head to him and gave a subtle assent for him to continue.
Jack decided to just throw them all out. “Alright, it’s between these… Sterling Jack. Lodestone. Iron Age. And, finally, Foundry. So far, anyway.”
Bo took a bit to thoughtfully consider them. “I like Lodestone and Foundry. But I don’t know your powers well. Iron Age is arrogant, but if you want confusion and vagueness, it works. Sterling Jack just sounds hokey as hell.”
Jack sighed. “Fiver hated it, too. I guess this is goodbye.”
“Should your name be decided by democratic election? Do what you want. It’s vague, at least.”
“I guess the purpose of vagueness is so others can’t guess what you do as well?”
“Others,” she repeated, tasting the word. “Mostly the enemy. In case they intercept a transmission hearing the name.”
“Ohhh… Damn, I didn’t even think of that.”
“That’s only if you want to be a big tryhard about it. It isn’t required. But it doesn’t sound like any of your names are completely self-explanatory.”
“Another knock on Sterling Jack, though. Don’t want my name blasting out there.”
“True. Whatever the long-form, you have to break it down into one or two syllables for operational use.”
“So you’re… Agent Bogus?”
She nodded. “Or would be in the field. Junior Agent or Cadet, in here.”
They ran in silence a while longer. Bo eventually glanced at him and asked, “How’s training?”
“Good. All temp scores are gone, everything is in the positive. Slowed down a bit leveling, though. Going to push for Level 2 and then grind out the next.”
“As soon as you hit Level 3, you have to start working with teams.”
“So I’ve heard. Fiver suggested I leverage my mystique and get on an up-and-coming squad that only needs one more.”
“And is that your plan?”
“Maybe. I’m keeping my options open.”
“Smart.” An unreadable tone and expression.
She suspects, I’m sure of it. Guess I’ll find out her real opinion when the time comes.
That was it for their socializing. They finished up the run with some higher-intensity sprinting a bit before calling it quits, getting water, fist-bumping, and saying their goodbyes, everything kept short and sweet.
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕
As it turned out, Dozer was good for the evening, so the duel date was set in Power Park, with even the exact coordinates set for the location of combat. Jack was looking forward to it. Meanwhile, he decided to cancel his ‘race’ with Lindsay. Aside from the schedule issues, he wasn’t sure if she’d hurt her shoulder, but she was unlikely to admit it to him. He’d smoke her some other day.
After some hardcore physical training with Mr. Tower, Jack went to his classes. Agent Marrakech was waiting in the conference room as always, hands clasped behind his back, perpetually in a suit like it was his skin, perpetually clean shaven, hair perpetually in the same, precise cut. Just as perpetually, as soon as Jack sat down, the agent said, “Let’s begin.”
The digital whiteboard blipped on and switched to become more like a vidscreen, showing a grainy, aerial video of a coastline, with energy-shrouded, bullet-like vessels falling down and blowing out spherical radii as they embedded in the sand. In the distance, some sort of ship could be seen on the water, with a massive cannon-like apparatus, utilizing pulsing energy to launch the vessels one after the other in a long arc. The camera suddenly zoomed in on one of the bullet-vehicles, and a creature came out from a hinged opening. It was like another copy of the nightmare creatures Jack had once seen three years ago, vaguely insectoid, pink, with four arms and digitigrade legs… the long, segmented tail, the oversized head with its spiky, sloped crown, the three eyes… wielding a strange pistol in one hand, exposed, exotic energy as its payload.
Jack rose to his feet without thinking, wide-eyed and glued to the vidscreen. After that infamous day, he’d never seen them again. Every question he’d asked about them had been met with, ‘That’s classified beyond your clearance and no longer your concern, Mr. Laker.’ It had been drilled and drilled and drilled into him not to talk about it (after therapy, anyway), not to draw them, even to avoid thinking about them. He was told he wouldn’t face them again, or even see them.
It was sweet to see them on screen. So, so sweet, to make liars out of the hardass agents in Conditioning, Rehabilitation, and Reprocessing. But he supposed lies were their bread and butter.
The camera panned out to see a small army of them bounding up the beach and beginning to exchange fire with drones and automated defenses at what appeared to be some outer coastal base. It ended when one of them looked straight up into the camera and fired a blast of bright, faintly pink plasma, ending the feed. The screen stayed pink, and black letters popped onto the screen: ‘The Phantasmal Reach.’
“That scene,” Agent Marrakech began, “was nearly synonymous with the little incident you had to deal with, Junior Agent Laker. Everything you believed or heard about that day, toss out the window. It was one of the largest invasion attempts in history and caused casualties not seen for two decades, including in numerous territories nearly devoid of casualties prior. It was as all-out as they could manage, utilizing technology adapted — evolved — to function far outside their territory. Fortunately, it began to get more unreliable and malfunction the deeper they got within our own territory, possibly to a degree they didn’t expect. They knew their vehicle propulsion didn’t last already. Hence, the bizarre slingshots. When it malfunctioned on a descending bullet vessel, well, it still did some damage.”
Jack remembered his own evidence of the malfunctions well… the creature pointing its plasmatic weapon at him, and it fizzling out instead of firing. He’d likely be dead if it hadn’t.
The screen switched to show a loose animation style, with numerous Phanties rapidly assembling a giant contraption in a mountainous area. It appeared to be a giant cannon, or ‘slingshot,’ to launch more bullet vessels. A cross-section of it was shown, in which the inside and the outside compacted down and enclosed, then turned sideways, showing it to be one of the bullet vessels. “Modular field tech,” the agent narrated, “functional in the sparser land areas outside our territory and even somewhat inside the borders. The distances a launch can reach aren’t infinite, but far enough to be a problem.”
“So that’s how they got deeper than they’d ever been so quickly,” Jack mused.
“Not ‘ever,’ Junior Agent. As for Fort Circe, it was the result of a cornucopia of errors, but most of all in the intelligence layer. In any case, it seems it was pulled off by one of their crack covert squads, undetected until too late. They’ve gotten better over the years.”
“I’m left wondering if you’re suddenly revealing details about the Phantasmal Reach for a reason, sir.”
“Of course, Junior Agent. For this usage case, it’s less to do with their physical threat and more to do with their deeper nature. Something even more classified for its insidiousness. The deeper threat.” The agent brought a hand around to slowly tap his temple. “In the mind.”
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Comments
Rain Harlow
Yeah, sorry, just kinda generalized them to the background for now. He's had breakfast with them sometimes, after, though he kinda more recently got into a different routine. They'll have to get swung back into some focus later on.
Thomas V.
Speaking of kids, what happened to Jack’s dorm mates? I forgot their names, but the commander kid and his minder? We haven’t seen either of them in *forever* after that one time they had breakfast together.
