Chapter 98

Chapter 98: Enjoying Victory

On the way back to their side, now opened up by a big, much-appreciated split in the great wall, Jack side-eyed Bo, amused with the satisfied glint in her eye, which he didn’t think was just from the victory. She caught him eyeing her that way and gave him a look as she exclaimed, “What?!”

“Nothing,” Jack said, coughing a laugh, clearing his throat, and showing his hands.

I think she has a type, and that was her version of flirting.

When they filed into their breakroom, Augur and Ira were waiting, the former jumping up and down in excitement and high-fiving everyone, exclaiming things so fast he couldn’t finish one thought before moving on to the other. “Did you see when- oh man, you totally just wiped ‘em- and then the neck strike- and the broken neck! Pop! And then you- when that one guy-” He laughed in hysterics as he carried on like a kid in a candy store for the first time.

Ira was much more subdued in contrast, but by now, everyone knew she was no true cold fish. And Jack knew she was truly gushing on the inside, where Neex did dwell. In fact, through their bond, a reciprocal cheer bounced between them, their own bubbling satisfaction so strong that they felt it in the other, and thus felt even more appreciation for sensing the other happy, and so on. It was a unique feeling he’d not yet felt before, and perhaps no human had, either — a deep warmth in a specially preserved lagoon of the soul. Only now, the waters had overflowed and spilled.

Smiling and clapping for them, rocking up on her toes briefly, Ira called, “Congratulations, team! That was very well done, and your hard work paid off. As did your ingenuity.” Meanwhile, mentally, Neex added, “I can barely contain my happiness that you won so handily, Jack! It was thrilling to watch! Maybe because I knew the plan?” For some reason, she seemed a bit anxious. Self-conscious. “The anticipation and hope it worked out were just too much!”

Laughing, downright giddy, his general reservations shredded away, Jack found it impossible not to rush over and give Ira a hug, caught up in the elation of victory as he was. They’d walked a tightrope for the majority of the match, and he was just now feeling the relief hit him. The tension drain. And there was his bondsmate, barely able to contain her shared elation.

He saw Ira’s eyes widen slightly before she received the hug, her small frame easily dwarfed by his. But the brief nervous tension quickly faded in her as she more or less melted, one side of her winning out over the other.

Your Level has improved to 4.1! Please enter the trance and Calibrate, as this changes your total Allotment. Note: Please allow time for decision-making between the three options available with a full Level change. You also have 1.0 to allocate to any statistic other than Create or Control.

Additional note: Individual Allotment gains have returned, but are now negligible from mere training. Team training gains are also low. Team duels with stakes, the PACCs in particular, and actual accomplishments in general, retain the most potential gain.

Control: Cord has improved to 2.2!

Control: Throw has improved to 2.8!

Control: Collect has improved to 2.0! 

Control: Strike has improved to 0.3!

Create: Lift has improved to 0.7!

Transmute: Quick-change has improved to 0.8!

Transmute: Fluidity has improved to 1.0!

Interpret: Fieldsense has improved to 0.6!

Parry has improved to 0.7!

Evasion has improved to 3.6!

“Hell yeah!” Jack exclaimed loudly. “Level up, baby! Wooo!” Without really even thinking about it, he lifted up Ira and spun her in a circle, still feeling absolutely incredible and euphoric.

Ira had a cut-off yelp. “J-Junior Agent!” Mentally, she simultaneously said, “J-Jack! Best not to go overboard here. Hmm?” Her mental voice did have a note of reluctance to it, torn between her true self — which wouldn’t be too far a cry from Augur’s reactions — and the keeping up of illusory pretenses.

“Sorry,” Jack muttered, clearing his throat and setting her down. He glanced at the others and saw them all paused in their prior celebrations, staring at them openly. Bo looked smugly satisfied, as if she had just confirmed something she’d been expecting. Augur looked somewhat annoyed. Highfive’s expression was ridiculous, eyes wide, eyebrows up, lips making something of a ‘sunken cheeks’ fish face.

And Inkblot… didn’t care. “Grats,” he said blandly. “I also leveled.”

Jack cleared his throat and replied, “Grats, Ink.” 

Ira stepped away from Jack and straightened her uniform and ‘hair’, cool dignity returning to her countenance as she raised her chin at him and folded her hands in front of her. “Junior Agent Laker, that was highly inappropriate, but I’ll let it slide considering the circumstances.” She glanced at the others. “You all saw nothing, correct?”

Inblot, like lightning, replied first. “Saw what?” 

I’m actually not entirely sure this guy did notice anything. 

Everyone else spoke at once in a jumble, murmuring their assent. Highfive waved both hands and turned them into thumbs-ups, though he gave Jack a clandestine, smirky glance in the process.

“I’d apologize for getting carried away,” Jack said, “but nothing happened here just now anyway. Certainly not some idiot acting like a drunken sailor or anything.”

Ira nodded, successfully fighting off a smile that only Jack knew to be a close call. “Precisely.” Internally, she was grappling down her blooming emotions, causing the relative feedback loop they’d experienced to fade away. But he could tell it was a reluctant thing, and she was quite happy, even excited, at how he’d reacted.

He knew they should probably talk about it, but he left it alone for now, with the necessity of the Ira persona for her to focus on.

“A drunken sailor?” Augur asked curiously. “Like from the movies, or something?”

“Yes, Augur,” Jack said with an exhale. “Like from the movies. Anyway, time for refreshments, team. Do we wanna see the replays?”

“Yes!” Augur nearly screamed as he ran to grab the controller, ready to narrate and highlight the ‘good stuff,’ no doubt.

Momentarily, they were all gathered around the giant vidscreen watching the fights and particularly the ‘kills’ from different angles, sipping drinks or eating snacks, some sitting and some standing. For the most part, they were only slightly fatigued, which felt very odd when taking a break, as they were usually totally exhausted when they did so. Bo, especially, was virtually always one to just collapse on the couch to nap, barely chugging down a drink before passing out. Now, she was watching the screen in between pretending she was bored and scanning her phone. She betrayed the truth with engaged eyes and mild smiles tugging at her lips.

They zoomed in on Inkblot’s first assassination with his striking, empowered knife, specially highlighted with filters so they saw it much more clearly than it had been visible in reality. They watched Inblot’s precise anatomical strike on Abundance’s neck, right into an area replete with arteries, stabbing and raking down in what would’ve been catastrophic destruction and a fountain of blood. Naturally, what actually happened was a forcefield blocking it shortly after drawing blood just inside the skin, and the guy dropping to his knees, still twitching from Bo’s paralysis. By the time he could just clutch at his neck, he was flopping down flat to the ground and covered in a restraining force field.

“I guess he was thinking of trying to heal himself,” Jack commented. “Dicey, whether he could focus in time, if he were out in the field.”

“Exactly!” Augur declared enthusiastically. He made a stabbing motion. “I believe that was in line with the carotid! Consciousness loss in that extreme scenario would be measured in seconds, even for a Non!”

“It was a hell of a gamble,” Inkblot said. “Appreciate the vote of confidence I could kill a healer fast enough. Or ‘we,’ I should say. May not have worked without Bo.”

“Or Jack providing distraction,” Ira added.

“Yes. A team effort.”

“Yeah, throw me in there keeping Woody busy,” Highfive said.

“You mean X-Tender,” Jack corrected.

“Tendy. Hehe.”

“I wouldn’t try that one. She seems kinda prickly. And intense.”

“Prickly? Nah, that’s Porker! Anywaaays… That healer might’ve screwed over all our plans if he were Level Five or Level Six, especially. I think he was probably around the same as you and Ink. And Porker.”

Jack opened his mouth to correct the name when he realized the porcupine guy had not given his real handle. Instead, he said, “Guess the ‘well-matched’ aspect of the scenario had something to do with the mixed levels. Same as us. Two Sixes and two Threes?”

“Close to it,” Bo offered. “Maybe not exact. But I think Ten and Corroline were Sixes. Under the radar types, at least as far as I know, but they’ve been around.”

Highfive winced and rubbed his legs with both hands. “Damn sure felt like it, from Corro. I hate Blasters. You charge them head-on, and wham! They turn it into a kamikaze! Tch! Which isn’t even desirable in the field.”

“That’s debatable,” Jack said. “Depends on the situation, but look at what Corroline did: her attacking you in time prevented you from potentially following up on the charge and finishing her off. That’s the best kind of counterattack.”

Highfive gave a grudging shrug, subtly ceding the point.

“I look forward to seeing Inkblot in team scenarios in the field,” Ira said. “Being an exploiter of anatomy and internal damage. The simulation battles taint his data especially.”

“You won’t,” Inblot said. At snickers from the boys, Inkblot looked around at them. “I didn’t mean it as a brag. I mean that Stalkers don’t usually team except temporarily. So, make no mistake, I won’t be assigned permanently with you lot.” He turned his eyes back to the screen. “If you graduate, I won’t even graduate with you. Possibly not ever, still.”

After a pregnant pause, Highfive declared, “Bummer, bro.”

“Yeah,” Jack said with a sigh. “Hardly fair, if true.”

“Central has made it pretty clear they don’t care about fairness,” Bo said. “It’s whatever is best for their goals. Seems like it’s a toss-up whether that’s best for the individual.”

“Momma knows best,” Inkblot replied darkly. “Honestly, I understand reluctance with my history being so shit.” He glanced at Highfive and Jack. “Don’t feel bad on my account. What’s in front of me is the sundamned moon compared to where I’ve been, jacket or not. The amount of credit I’ve already saved up is…” He shook his head. “And it’ll go up from there for any active operative. It’s in the contract. ANP, consultant, liaison, whatever — we’ve all fraggin’ made out. For life.”

Highfive grinned. “Yeah, you seem like the, ah, frugal type. Maybe I’d have more saved, but my family, man…” He sighed and shrugged.

“I thought the contract had specific allowances for family,” Jack commented.

“It does, but not for everyone. I’ve got a big ass family, bro!”

“Something something, where true riches lie,” Bo muttered, “something something.”

“Psh… right… Well, my momma deserves every luxury, that’s for sure.”

“I knew you were a mama’s boy, Blondy,” Jack teased.

Highfive grinned. “Aren’t we all?”

Ira raised an eyebrow. “Well, technically? No.”

“Hmm? Oh, I meant, you know, ‘cause of Memoria.”

Ira broke character slightly to roll her eyes. “I know that. What I meant is that we’re not all boys, Fiver. Duh.”

Highfive burst out laughing, looking at her very much like an odd duck he adored. “Yeeeah… silly me.”

“Guuuys!” Augur called, annoyed. “You’re not watching the replays! I’ll rewind it again…but pay attention this time!”

🌑 🌒 🌓 🌔 🌕

After Augur eventually bored them with his repetitious replay angles — even interspersed with possibly useful stream of consciousness breakdown and commentary — they decided to break from the yawn-worthy ‘excitement’ of the vidscreen to go eat dinner in the mess hall, like true superstars. Aside from that, the location helped break the endless spell of obsessing over ‘work.’ Everyone would comment on everything but powers, training, and the PACCs while in the public atmosphere. As far as Jack was concerned, right then, that was just what they needed. They’d been twisted up like a rubber band about the PACCs shit for days, and needed to unwind a bit.

Augur was, of course, far less exhausted from it, and everyone also agreed it was best that Augur not be seen as attached to the team, at least for as long as they could get away with the knowledge not getting out. Not only was it useful as a secret, but, as pointed out by Inkblot, the lil’ guy could get targeted as a weak link to press for info, and no one wanted that. Jack especially didn’t want it because of how protective Inkblot was. Jack was certain that ‘Big Brother’ was capable of doing very nasty and devious things to people if they really pissed him off, at a level far above the typical schoolyard bullshit that Junior Agents were operating at. Messing with Augur was at the tippity top of the hypothetical shit list.

Naturally, Augur was not happy about the exclusion, so Ira offered to eat with him, which instantly changed his tune about it. Technically, Ira hanging around them publicly as a group was another issue, if entirely different from Augur. She had shared with Jack that she was supposed to ‘minimize’ public exposure around the team, per Central’s orders. This was likely due to the appearance of some sort of unfair favoritism or the like, even if the reality was a whole other story.

He was really beginning to see why the PACCs teams just stuck to their own during that fateful time of their lives. He didn’t really like it, but at least it was temporary. After all, he’d gotten a taste of post-jacket life, and it seemed quite amorphous and cooperative. That was what he’d imagined it would be like, from his own experiences as a pilot on the outskirts, frequently peeking into their mostly hidden world, by occasional necessity.

Jack pondered things as he was seated in the mess hall, eating a giant, stuffed, very delicious burrito in a brief period of relative silence among his compatriots, who were all stuffing their faces around the same time thanks to pre-ordering before they arrived. The din of many others chatting from all around combined into a certain kind of quaintness, with the sound seemingly encouraged by the ‘bottom of a funnel’ effect that the huge eating area had. Sound got to you, but it was always muffled into a machine-like aggregate call. It loudly declared something very simple and raw, perhaps like, ‘I am civilization!’ 

So. Teams of five, for ANPs, but still modular, like any modern military. I don’t have the information Central does on who my best team would be, but considering my sheer newness, it would be logical to stick with people I’ve worked with. I don’t have years and years of powers training with different folks. Well. A guy can hope, right?

He was shocked from his reverie by someone many tables down dropping a hard type of cup on the floor, which clattered quite loudly and echoed through the whole damn place. As the student scrambled to grab it from the floor in shame, a clap began. The clap grew to a near cacophony as everyone joined in, and the embarrassed young cadet half-smiled and half-grimaced under the barrage as he hunched back in his seat, his friends laughing as they were also clapping away.

Jack and his teammates set down their food to contribute to the clapping themselves. Even Inkblot did so. Tradition was tradition.

It feels good. This is something we apes will never stop doing. Never, ever, ever.

After it finally died down, Highfive dusted his hands over his plate of various taco leftovers and eyed Jack. “So. Big Iron. My bro. Do you. Seriously.” He enunciated each word with an emphatic head motion. “Still. Want… to be called by your birthname?” He asked it with slightly squinted eyes, like he couldn’t get his head around it.

Jack leaned forward so he could nod very deliberately, eyes wide with emphasis. “Yes. I. Do.” He shook his head as he sipped his drink. “It’s not like I’m the only one to ever do that, Blondy.”

Highfive nodded slowly, studying him, shrugging with a hand out, idly running his tongue around his teeth as if to knock loose any stuck food. “Yeah. I dunno… It just doesn’t feel like your style, you know? Ferro is like…” He searched for a word, then grinned and pointed at Jack as he found it. “Magnetic! Ha. Yeah, it’s on you like a magnet, bro.”

“Cute.”

“He’s kinda right,” Bo said around a straw, sipping from her chocolate milkshake. As usual, she was the most presentable in public, having cleaned up a bit before she’d even step foot in the mess hall, and putting on her preferred little rim of black eyeliner — and whatever other ‘eye stuff’ and subtler makeup girls found indispensable. Jack had zero clue; there were limits to his observational interests. But she’d often complain about feeling naked without it. A wonder, considering they usually had bloody helmets on.

Jack gave her the sort of glower that she gave people. “Not you, too.”

She shrugged as she continued her straw-work.

“Jack,” Highfive said, as if newly testing the word, which was ridiculous. “Were you named after someone? Usually, it's something omega lame, like some random great uncle.”

“Not that,” Jack said, offering nothing further. He finished his burrito and eyed the little jello cup. For some reason, the burrito place always gave out jello with every purchase. Jack shrugged and began opening it up.

There’s always room for it, isn’t there?

Highfive kept pressing. “So, what then? Oh, maybe that movie! The pirate captain. Yep! Has to be. I heard there was nothing more popular than that like twenty, thirty years ago.”

Jack blinked at him, pausing with the jello-filled spoon almost to his mouth. “Nope. That’s literally everyone else named Jack.” He ate the jello. It was okay, like all jello. “It was another movie. Obscure. Arcane. Doesn’t matter.” He hoped to leave it at that.

No such luck. Curiosity clearly piqued, Fiver asked insistently, “Come on, man, you can’t leave Highfive hanging! What movie? I've probably seen it.”

“No chance, dude. It was a musical. Also, you’re talking in third person, now?”

“When I need to. And, what, I can’t watch musicals? I’ve seen musicals. My mom watched ‘em all the time. What musical, bro?! Come on!” He had his hands up, grinning insistently. “Just toss the name and this subject will be history!”

Jack sighed grandly and relented. “Newsies.”

Highfive immediately clapped hard in satisfaction, enough to make everyone around jump, as he pointed his finger at Jack. “Ha! I've seen it, dude! Told ya! That’s a classic. Mom loved that shit. Maybe all moms do?” He did a maneuver with his arms, making a circle over his head, mimicking ballet — in his head, anyway. “Bunch of baby-faced fit guys dancing around and singing. S'cool I guess.”

Jack was shaking his head as he ate. “Afraid I'm not really a fan…”  

Bo had paused, listening with her eyes shifted up to one side. “Annnd reserved with a reminder. Thanks for the recommendation, boys.”

Jack grunted disfavorably. I don’t like this development.

Highfive scoffed. “Psh. Well, fine then, Jack. Be a-a, uh, Phlogistan.”

Jack squinted at him for a moment, trying to figure out his meaning. “You mean Philistine? Nice try.”

“Yeah, that's the one.” He frowned thoughtfully, suddenly. “What's the origin of that?”

Jack shrugged and put on a faux-cheery smile. “Don't know and don't care, dude.”

“You know, I think I'll look it up!” His eyes went upward, in the telltale ‘doing the Mini’ fashion. “Oh wow, this shit is, like, philosophical. Literary.”

Jack just nodded at his friend as he finished his jello, with relatively equal passion to his interest in the current subject.

Bo put on a face of mock seriousness as she raised her hands, as one making a sacred declaration. “He looked it up himself. Fiver has learned.”

____________________________________________________________

« Chapter 97 | Table of Contents | Triumphant Epic Music Plays »

____________________________________________________________