Rain Harlow
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Chapter 20
🕑 Added 2025-04-07 03:22:57 +0000 UTCChapter 20: Yet the Old Haunts Rise
As Jack sat, Augur hopped up cross-legged on the couch angled to face toward him. Hands folding into his lap, the little imp seemed to take his measure before speaking. “I know the oddity of your advanced age and the reasons can’t be shared, but it will still make waves simply in speculation. You might find yourself popular. Parties might think that by befriending you, they’ll be privy to secrets later on. Since compatibility and established rapport are factors that go into team construction.”
Jack nodded slowly to this, somewhat struck by yet another oddity in the boyish figure, with an apparent well-spoken intellect at a young age. Hardly surprising in a prodigy, though. “I see. Lucky me. Is that to warn me, rather? And are you susceptible to this as well?”
“A friendly FYI. As for me, I like to know everything I possibly can, and share everything I possibly can with what I’ve coined ‘NANIs.’ Non-Asshole, Non-Idiots. I think you have a high probability of being a NANI. We also share age oddities, though technically opposite. I like oddities. Unusual shapes are more difficult to fit into the puzzle board, but more rewarding.”
“The puzzle board? Is that what you do?”
“Yes. I’m a Linewalker instead of a more obvious assignment due to an assessment I need to understand and develop leadership and core identity. I’m here for a perceived weakness, or so I’ve ascertained. Gathering as much information as possible in my environment is critical to my development. Not everyone appreciates this.”
Jack chuckled. “Let me guess, you’ve gotten yourself into trouble being nosy where you weren’t wanted.”
Augur’s ears twitched, and he frowned. “As I said, not everyone in this facility appreciates my dedication to information-gathering endeavors.”
“There was an incident in the Star Wing, wasn’t there?”
“Multiple misunderstandings and mischaracterizations which resulted in a limited ban, wherein I must be specifically invited by a member to enter now.” His head cocked as he studied Jack. “How did you make that prediction, if I may ask?”
“Two and two together, kid. There’s a lot of girls over there, and a lot of girls don’t appreciate nosy boys skulking around in their girl business — excuse me, ah, ‘information gathering boys,’ we’ll say.”
“I see. Thank you. Could I ask that you not call me ‘kid,’ though? I dislike it.”
“Sure. Augur. I’ll probably just call you ‘bud.’ I call everyone that. Sometimes ‘buddy.’ Hope that’s cool.”
“Hmm. An oddity. Alright. Maybe it will catch on. Thanks again, Jack. The evidence mounts that you’re a NANI.”
Jack grinned. “Great to hear. I try to be.”
“Allow me to extend the offer of my services, should you happen to need information, advice, or what have you, in your time in the Hall.”
“I appreciate that. Likewise, though I’m ah… probably wet behind the ears for all of this so far.”
“That was my suspicion, but you bring talent. I can tell. There’s the elusive ‘life experience’ skill set that the fully grown tout with regularity, for one.”
“And height. I can reach the top-tier cabinets.”
Augur’s lips twisted to one side momentarily. “I’m going to have a growth spurt, Jack. Mark my words. I grew an entire centimeter in the last two months. Time and nature are on my side. I plan on being big and swole, yet remembering my humbler, smaller origins. A gentle giant, even. Perhaps.”
“Of course,” Jack offered diplomatically, studiously repressing his amusement. “Lots of growing to do, after all — physically, that is.”
Augur simply gave an approving nod to this. “It isn’t lost on me that you have a high priority to have rare, conventional social skills I’d be quite interested in understanding.”
“Hmm. You’re basing this on…?”
“I find you likable, for one. You’re not talking down to me, and you seem easy to talk to. I assume that’s a cultivated thing. If not, you have a natural talent. I also overheard much of your conversation with Agent Boiler, so I have some additional evidence.”
“What? Who?”
“Agent Nonpareil Lindsay Soyer, AKA Agent Boiler. You know, because she boils things down for people? Some like to be clever with their names instead of keeping it simple, which is better.”
“Oh. Right. Ha. Yeah, we were on a first-name basis.”
“Which is my point. She seems very charmed by you. I caught sight of her and noted a genuine smile and a higher-pitched voice than she’s used with me. I’ve read that it means a girl likes you. Which could be attraction. Are you attractive to women, too? I have no idea. But just a warning about her.”
This time, Jack couldn’t help bursting out in brief laughter. He rubbed his neck with a hand. “Warning. Right. Thanks, partner. Look, I have a policy about misconstruing women’s interests and why they act this way or that way. I make as few assumptions as possible. Lindsay is basically required to be nice to me and get on my good side. By all appearances. I don’t mind because she’s being pretty fun about it. I think she’s probably on track to see me like a brother. Or brotherly friend, whatever. That’s fine by me.”
Augur nodded slowly. “I see. I still believe you won her over with charm, however much it may be downplayed in your own perspective.”
“Fair enough. If so, it's due to Memoria orchestrating it, seeing the compatibility, and assigning her to me to make the process smoother.”
“True.” The impish boy paused contemplatively, looking aside for a moment, then turning back. “Would you like to exchange powerset knowledge? It’s allowed, but you can verify.”
Before Jack could even turn his attention inward, Mini gave a ‘green light’ to the idea. “Sure. You first. You’re some kind of precognitive?”
“Sort of. It’s highly specialized. Odd. The class is Alchemical Mastermind — Strategy, the Primary Mutation Mock War. I can utilize a physical medium to predict the results of battle and process various obscure details that would otherwise be missed. I secured a secondary mutation called Living Props allowing me the processing of live battles, too, though I can’t directly alter them, of course. But essentially I’m a born general. Memoria expects super big things from me.”
“Whoa.” In a pause of dead silence, Jack grew a slow grin. “That’s fraggin' badass, buddy!”
Augur had been watching him quite judiciously for a reaction. He broke into a grin, white fangs prominent. “You really think so?!” Immediately, he calmed and cleared his throat, going back into firm maintenance of his ‘cool’ demeanor. “Good. Very NANI. Some people aren’t impressed, or get disturbed because of my youth, especially when I share graphical details of casualties. As if after a thousand iterations, I’m not as desensitized to gore as a surgeon. Although I haven’t actually demonstrated it to you yet. You should come to my room.”
“I absolutely will. Not tonight, though — got orders to rest. But when I get a minute, definitely.”
“Okay. Your powerset?”
“Oh. Yeah, it’s Material Controller — Metal, the Primary Mutation Channel Memorite. I channel her core element and use that to network with other metals.”
Augur’s ears, hair, and tail perked upward. “Metal! A Controller! It’s so broad. You could be a big name, Jack. That’s the sort of powerset someone iconic would have.”
“Oh yeah? Well, I hope so. Glad to hear I got lucky, then. Honestly, having any power at all is lucky. I’d be happy with anything. Bubble Making. Grass Growth.”
Augur giggled. “Oh? What about Poop Control? You’d own that one? Levitate dooky proudly?”
Jack made a show of a comical grimace. “Egads! Alright, maybe there are limits. Don’t be a little turd about it.”
Augur giggled again, in blatant satisfaction. “So, what sort of things does Memorite allow? Even that seems broad.”
“I-”
The doorbell rang again.
Augur’s eyes went very wide. “Don’t answer it.”
Jack found it hard not to be amused. “Is it my next-door neighbor, then?”
Wide eyes looked even more amazed. “You lied to me — your powerset is some sort of psychic mind reading, with evidence continually mounting.”
Laughing, Jack shook his head. “Two and two together, again, champ. I heard him yelling at you right before I shut the door earlier.”
“Oh. I see.” The doorbell rang again, and Augur’s eyes flicked around surreptitiously.
Jack rose and made a mock admonishing finger at Augur. “You know you need to rest; so does he. There’s a history here, eh? I think I should answer the door.”
Augur looked up at him with puppy-demon eyes. “Would you truly betray your new best friend, Jack?”
Jack threw his head back and laughed in exasperation. “Come on, little dude! Look, we both need rest even though we’re wired. Let’s just suck it up and do what we’re supposed to. In solidarity, yeah?”
Augur stared a moment more, looking miffed, as the doorbell rang again. He finally sighed. “Fine. He’ll never leave anyway. Open the door wide and let me run out. I don’t want to hear his stupid scolding!”
Jack nodded his assent and approached the door as Augur followed close behind. He opened it quite suddenly and very wide — as requested — and Augur did another adroit, high-speed maneuver to slip right past the slightly stunned figure waiting there. By the time the tattooed guy started and turned around, Augur was halfway to the stairs, running animalistically on all fours.
“Don’t follow me, Inkblot!” Augur shouted.
“Hey!” the guy shouted after him, pointing his finger. “G-get back in bed!”
“What do you think I’m doing?!”
“Don’t get sassy with me! I want video proof! In! Bed! Stop hassling people!”
There was a low grumble that might’ve been ‘whatever.’
Inkblot was also muttering darkly to himself as he turned back around to Jack.
“He wasn’t hassling me,” Jack offered with a polite smile, waving it off. “Really. Just welcoming me to the Hall. I’m glad I got to chat.”
Inkblot eyed Jack with those solid black eyes of his. He appeared unmoved. “His sleep is very important. Otherwise, he suffers in the morning.”
“I gotcha. You two seem like family.”
“Might as well be. Also, his official mentor recently. Assigned by Mother. Something I take seriously.”
Jack nodded slowly. “Where are you from, if I can ask? Can’t place your accent.”
“Speech classes doing good work. Drystation. Both of us. Knew him from before. Knew his brother, mainly.”
Jack raised his eyebrows in surprise. “Drystation in Southtower? I thought it no longer existed.”
Inkblot had a sour expression as he nodded slightly, if hesitantly. “Not really Southtower. By it. Crammed in the corner and forgotten. Semi-independent. Was. Breached contract called out and ripped up. No one lives there no more. Some kinda fraggin' preserved museum now. A crypt, more like it.”
“A ghost town?”
Inkblot just nodded, lip twisting slightly as he looked away.
“Something about drugs,” Jack mused. “Organized crime. I think it was some special new thing, right?”
Inkblot nodded grimly. “An effect like a methamphetamine dialed to eleven. Super addictive, extreme euphoria, dangerous overdoses. That’s Drystation ingenuity for you — crackerjack heaven spawned out of a shack. Hit the community too hard with poisoned fortune, spilled over to Falltown, and it was like war. Underground, and then finally not so much. In the streets. Everywhere. Bad enough the Mems-... Mother went in and cleaned house. Erased that drug and its damage from existence with a celestial pressure washer.”
The man paused here, exhaling derisively and turning to look around at the hallway. “Drystation was too dirty, though. Too fragged up, rotten, and wrong. Cleaning it exposed how bad it got out of sight and mind. Cleaning it collapsed it, killed it, put it out of its misery. Now it's just a barren testament to the dark side of free will.” Inkblot glanced back at Jack. “Have a good night.” With that, he went back to his room.
Jack muttered ‘good night’ back, but rather too late.
Man. What would that be like? It would be like Eden suddenly being depopulated. Where I’m from becoming barely a place anymore. That sucks. I think it went down three years ago. Augur would’ve been eleven then. And, what, a year later, he gets powers and Memoria sideswipes his genes with transmutational physical mutations? Ugh. Poor kid. At least he seems to embrace it.
Jack made his way to the bathroom, marveling at how spacious and nice it was. He took a hot shower. This relaxing endeavor almost made him pass out on his feet, but he successfully made it to his big, cushy bed with a towel wrapped around his waist and put his head down on a big, cushy pillow. Skin still moist, he conked out immediately.
🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕
Memory, vibrant and clear. Pure.
“Gotta find my team,” Vim muttered, barely legible through his helmet. “Not here.”
Jack had helped the gradually weakening Non through the hangar bay, looking for… something. A vehicle. Right then, Vim was sitting with his back propped against the remains of a large APC. Three enemy craft had crashed through the ceiling of the bay, and there was a fourth that looked relatively pristine, apparently landing rather than crashing. Whatever had been inside had laid waste to the bay, then moved on.
At first, Jack had been moving through a relatively quiet place of smoking vehicles and the occasional mutilated body. Fortunately, the holes in the roof were solid ventilation. Otherwise, there were no enemies and plenty of cover. An actual whole escape vessel eluded him, however. And then he began hearing sounds of an altercation. Gunfire, fighting, snarling, coming from the west wing. Deeper in the base.
“You’re hurt, sir,” Jack replied as he hefted his rifle. He’d taken it off the floor shortly after entering the hangar, from out of a chopped-off hand. Not a lick of blood on the gun. He’d also found a few extra mags on another body, kept on a distinctive, sticker-saturated bandolier. He’d seen the soldier who wore it around the base before, though the body itself had become headless. “I can’t exactly fight my way through what’s left of this place under these circumstances. I’m certainly not leaving you like this.”
Vim waved the sidearm in his hand. “I’ll shoot ‘em. I can still shoot.”
He’s delirious. Fraggin' poison. “You can shoot, but you can’t walk by yourself.”
This stumped Vim. He tried to rise, failed, and then flopped his head back onto the huge tire behind him. Panted. Moaned. “My team… they’re in trouble…”
“I’m sorry, Vim. I really am.” The sounds of fighting intensified. People yelling. “Let me move up a little bit, peek at what’s happening westward before we get blindsided. I won’t be far.”
“She’s here, you know… damn ringing in my head… go away! I can’t hear!”
Jack blinked and shook his head, turning away. In a crouch, ignoring his aching arm and gripping the rifle at the ready, he moved around a pile of roof debris and the remains of a huge A/C unit. The large opening from the hangar was visible on the west wing, clear and fairly likely to be a path the alien monsters took after landing.
He could hear them and see flashes more and more, soon realizing they were coming into the hangar. Jack waited with his rifle pointed. It was time to help, whoever they were.
A scuffed-up Non in full armor rushed out from the opening, burdened with an unconscious man in her arms. Shortly following her was a limping military man in uniform, likely an officer. He tossed a spent handgun to the side and reached in his coat for something.
Next to come through, shortly on their heels, was an ongoing brawl of sorts. A Non woman with ripped-up armor and clothing was backpedaling and fending off three of the pinkish, monstrous insectoid beings, their four arms and long, vicious tails ending in stingers flailing before them. They had not come out unscathed from their altercation — all three were battered and oozing, one with a limp, broken tail, and another with a broken arm. The latter was also missing his ‘eye plate’ protection.
Underneath the Non’s damaged armor — including a face plate ripped off — her muscular physique seemed uncut and unwounded. She was one of the tougher types, obviously.
Off of her back foot, she met the coming charge with a sudden charge of her own, punching an alien in the torso with a nasty crack and sending it to the floor in a tumble. Unfortunately, the other two were there to follow up. She dodged two claw strikes only to get swiped hard and solidly in the midsection by a tail, sending her flying into a wall of debris with a nasty thumping sound and an ensuing cry of pain.
Jack had a firing angle at that point, so he took it. Multiple shots rang out in succession as he tapped the automatic rifle for a burst, aiming at an alien head and trying to pull down a hair against the recoil, ensuring minimization of a complete whiff.
He missed the head but scored multiple hits in the neck and shoulder with armor piercers of the timeless .308 caliber. Pierce they did, especially in the softer neck area. The alien twisted rather violently, grabbing its neck with a snarl as it stumbled and almost lost its footing, head swiveling around for the source.
A whipping, moving eye sure is a bitch of a target. Not sure anything else is going to put them down.
One other alien was still relatively free to charge the other two, but the limping man had slowed and turned around, still holding something, apparently very patiently. Then he tossed it somewhat in advance of the alien onto the floor, and called, “Tits out!”
This call was code everyone military trained knew almost instinctively in muscle memory: a flashbang.
Jack just barely reacted in time to cover his eyes with his arm to avoid the flash.
BOOM! Too loud — painfully loud — but not as bad as the alien stuck almost point-blank against a ‘cooked down’ flashbang grenade.
When Jack looked back up and refocused, the limping man was painstakingly pushing himself back up from a fall, and the alien was holding its hands over its face and stumbling around erratically, plainly stunned.
That ballsy cooking down did the trick — no way their speed and agility wouldn’t counter a rolling grenade.
Jack took advantage of the stun to take aim and unload his rifle on the slowed-down, near-stationary target. He went for the hands over its face. Tack, tack, tack, tack! Bullets pierced the hands and face as it took the shots blind and dead-on. Black ichor oozed between its fingers just before it flopped to the hard floor, writhing and mewling hideously. It still moved around, but it was grievously wounded.
Got him.
The Non lady that had been knocked had recovered and grabbed the tail of another alien creature, slinging her arms with a fierce shout and tossing it. She aimed for the other of the two still functioning, but it dodged this easily and continued advancing, charging past the tougher Non for the other two. It also had a piece of metal held up, blocking Jack’s aim at its head.
Shit.
The armored Non, holding the man in her arms, had fully turned back around. “I-I’ve got to use what I have left in me!” she called in a youthful, shrill voice. “I can do it. One more time.”
The heroic, torn-up figure of the tough lady flung a hand vehemently. “If you can survive yourself,” she said darkly, her flashing hard eyes visible from behind the damaged helmet, “do it.”
The suited girl was dead still for a split moment, even with a deadly creature charging at her and the limping man passing by, moving as fast as he could. Jack trained his rifle, ready to fire whatever happened…
A pulse, a ripple shot out from her at high speeds in a vast radius. Sound he mostly couldn’t hear, but felt. Just barely, Jack heard the echo of it instead — some distant scream in his head. That was all.
The alien beasts jerked and grabbed their heads, screaming and falling, jerking and flailing wildly. Only for a few seconds, though — then they went limp, entirely out cold.
The girl screamed with them and fell to her knees, almost spilling her payload on the floor, too. She held on, though, just barely.
The tough Non hurried over and helped her up, murmuring some encouraging words.
Meanwhile, the limping officer called, “Which way, damn it?!” Despite his words, he continued forward, glancing at Jack and nodding in apparent appreciation. Despite that he looked as if he’d been through hell and back, dirty and blood-stained, he seemed unfazed by it. Like it was just ‘Tuesday’ for him. “Nice shooting, son. Steady hand, cold eyes. Born for it! Hope we got room for ya.”
Jack rose from his crouch, swallowing a dry throat as he eyed the fallen aliens, not convinced they wouldn’t rise back up. “Two, actually. Room for what? Are we- are they legit dead?”
“No,” the girl answered weakly, physically dragging herself after the limping man, the other Non having taken the unconscious gent up in her arms and quickly passing the other up. They were all moving with great anxiety. “Out… several minutes, maybe… um, sh-should we execute-”
“There’s no time for that double-tap shit!” the tough Non called, moving rather easily despite her burden. She angled toward Jack. Her hard, brown eyes glared at him studiously. “Who? Who do you have?! Who are you?”
Blinking, too harrowed to be annoyed, Jack answered immediately. “Jack Laker. A Non named Vim is just around that ATV backend behind me.”
Both of the Nons exclaimed at this like a miracle had been performed, the younger girl letting out a wordless, squeaky cry of relief.
The brown-eyed lady dropped her head and closed her eyes briefly. “He’s okay. Thank the heavens.” She raised her head to regard Jack soberly. “Mother bless you forever, Jack. Thank you. We thought the worst after losing contact.”
“It’s fine,” Jack replied rather flatly. Too flatly to him. Numb. “We need a plan of action out of here. Right?”
“Already covered — vehicle scouted and waiting. Full evac, all personnel, including us, now. We’ve done all we can. Too many are dead. Can you carry him?” She said this as she was handing her payload out. “I need to get Vim.”
Jack nodded, slinging the rifle and taking the man as the Non jogged past over to Vim. The rest were headed around the opposite side, so he followed them.
“I’m Screamer,” the girl offered, voice teetering continually on a breakdown. “She’s Ham Up. Two of our friends are dead. Thank you, Jack. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that Vim survived.”
“It’s fine. He’s poisoned. Not sure he’ll make it, actually.” Wrong thing to say, but he did it anyway. Numb.
“He will! He has to.”
“I’m Major Rockingson,” the limping man called without turning. “Quartermaster. Sorry you didn’t save a higher-ranking asshole, Laker, but it’ll have to do. Most are dead. Hell, I reckon saving Nons is a damned diamond medal, eh?”
Before Jack could mutter a noncommittal reply, Ham Up caught up with Vim in her arms, and Screamer rushed over to welcome him and try to hug him, much to the annoyance and admonishment of the one carrying him. Vim made a ‘peace sign’ and waved it exaggeratedly with a flopping arm. “Made it, bitcheeees… get the champagne ooout…”
Screamer laughed, though she was also overcome with emotion, crying at the same time.
Not ready for this. Green yet tossed to the dogs; boots too fresh to be slipping on the blood of brothers. Me too. So why am I okay? Not even a shake in my hands. Did I break? Shouldn’t I have?
Jack realized after a bit that the young soldier in his arms was dead, despite his peaceful expression. Not much blood surface-wise, but he was deathly pale. Not breathing. Internal injury, likely. Jack opened his mouth a few times to tell them but nothing came out.
Stupid. They have to know. Just say it. I don’t feel anything anymore. Right?
They made it to their apparent getaway vehicle — a pristine armored light ATV ground pounder like a big brick of metal on all-terrain wheels, with a 30mm gun station on top. Its brown-painted metal frame was surrounded by the carcasses of less fortunate vehicles in an almost 360-degree screen, with narrow ‘entrances.’
Rockingson laughed at the sight. “Ain’t it something? Damn! Like a pristine virgin bride just waiting in the bed.”
“I’ll clear a path forward,” Ham Up declared, setting Vim down and handing him off to be helped by Screamer. “Slightly left looks doable. Jack drives. I think. Right?”
“Shotgun!” Vim called.
“Vim,” Screamer admonished sternly with a scoffing noise.
“Even without my bum leg,” Rockingson said, “I honestly can’t pilot one of these cranky fossils worth a half-chewed biscuit.”
“I got it,” Jack offered. “I’m trained on them. Easy stuff.”
“This migraine will probably never go away, now,” Screamer muttered wearily, seemingly to herself. “Brain damage. Fighting on the Frontier sucks.”
As Ham Up moved to do the deed on the rubble in the way, Jack noticed the major waving at something sarcastically in the air. When Jack looked up, he saw a small black drone hovering, still and silent. His skin flushed with needles of alarm.
Is that Memoria watching us all, right now? Aware of me? Or is she too busy for such irrelevance?
“Mother is always here with us, Jack,” Vim said.
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