Jack moved the decoys to an enemy-side crenelation, shifted the metal with a bit of random power usage, and made them point their rifles. He had immediately begun firing in the general direction he thought the enemy would be; virtually simultaneously, he grabbed Inkblot by a temporary harness and launched him up to the wall, aiming to precisely align him with the edge, as the harness frame melted off of him to become simply a step-off platform under his feet. Jack soon felt the pressure relieved from it, as Inkblot, invisible at this point, presumably grabbed the edge and muscled his way over, as smooth and under cover as he could manage, in case enemy senses could still pick him up.

As Jack segued into the challenging task of quickly moving the massive Highfive up top — to which he would actually eat a little sliver of fatigue to maximize efficiency — he saw some brief flashes of motion over on the decoy side as they were promptly attacked.

Yes! They bought it! Likely due to being poised too itchy on the trigger, as we predicted.

Thanks to his better angle in a tree, he got a decent look at the resolution and aftermath of the contact. To a degree, he also felt the effects through the metal itself. There were multiple small, sharp projectiles, some that hit a decoy arm and slid through clothing along the metal, and some that missed, like a volley had been fired, most all into one of the decoy shooters.

The other effect, on the second decoy, was quick and something he barely felt. It licked right through the helmet and appeared as nothing more than some sort of tiny, whipping cord made out of grey-green weirdness. As soon as it went in, it went out, and then dissipated on the rebound.

Shit! What the hell was that?! Not good. That's a problem damage-dealer for sure. Jack still refused to hesitate or give up the wall. After all, the attack was visible, and it wasn't AoE; bright sides and silver linings!

He grabbed Highfive and shot him upward for the wall, gritting his teeth at the strain of his maximum feasible output. It cost him something. The best way he could think of it was as a fraction of his fatigue progress to Minor. He used around a fourth of that to expedite their tank to the wall. Simultaneously, he made the 'whip struck' decoy recoil and fall back away from the crenelation. The other kept firing with a tiny allocation on a trigger and a little stabilization for the recoil of a braced rifle.

Meanwhile, Bo reported, "That's a fraggin' Degen! Betting on a Blaster with extended range, or even a Sniper. Significant levels. No clue on the other."

"Aw shit," Highfive exclaimed. "We gotta move f-"

"It's visible!" Jack added quickly. "Directional, quasi-physical, and there must be a chance to dodge, especially at this range."

"Hmm. Noted. Maybe I can tank it on the wall for a while, then."

Follow-up attacks did not commence on the other decoy shooter, which spelled some measure of trouble to Jack. He could imagine cooler heads prevailing… or perhaps an argument?

Jack decided to pivot to a contingency distraction plot before the opportunity window closed. Slowing Highfive's ascent to give him some memorite and Force to commit, Jack ripped a small cluster of metal objects out of a sack and hurled them, aiming for the newly guessed vicinity of the enemy in a high arc, not unlike thrown grenades or mortar fire. In fact, they looked exactly like grenades; in fact, they basically were grenades.

He'd made them with incredibly fragile shells via the Fragile Spike technique, and then tightly packed them with a mix of metallic powder, with chunks, connective bits, a little dash of pyrotechnics, and lots of white-colored material, evilly conspired to look like the best semblance he could manage of a white phosphorus burst — something any military kid will have seen, studied, known, and marveled in some measure of fascination and horror at. Depending on what they hit, they'd shatter spectacularly and unleash their dusty, impressive, though technically relatively harmless payload.

The key thing to their hurling through the air was the question that would have to be answered quite quickly: how and why? Sure, grenades couldn't have possibly been allowed as a bonus, but maybe it was part of some hypothetical Non's unique powers. That was consistent with questionable targets firing what appeared to be average rifles. Perhaps some sort of Arsenal ability? Had it just been a ruse to identify the enemy position for this bomb strike?!

Whatever way you sliced it, only an idiot would fail to take those grenades seriously.

Very soon, he heard a mild few explosions from some kind of preliminary interception, and then something very much approaching loud cursing and panicked screaming echoing across the distance, as the enemy team no doubt saw what appeared to be a white phosphorus air burst overhead.

Yes! Muhahaha!

Under this cover, Highfive was successfully dropped over the wall, and Jack instantly reduced his output down to conserve energy.

"Chanced a look," Inkblot reported. "Crap angle here. Mostly just saw a reddish wooden dome covered over where the team must be. Either a Controller or some sort of wood-based tank, I'm guessing."

"A Controller would've been more flagrant to me," Bo said. "I think that's a metamorph. I know of a wood body girl. A Guardian. Damn. I don't know much else, sadly."

Nooo! A damned metamorphic tank?! Why?! Jack could spare no time for lamentations, though. He grabbed Bo's harness and rocketed her across the space to the wall, raising her to the edge-

Highfive, surrounded in his big, glaringly obvious sheath, jerked suddenly, his athlete's reflexes making him twitchy enough to avoid something, but he was in some manner of distress as he moved evasively to the side, thankfully erring in the direction of the decoys.

"Fraggin' whip almost skewered me through my sheath!" Highfive reported in the team gestalt. "Just grazed my arm, and it still hurts like hell! I hate degens!"

"It totally bypassed?" Bo asked.

"Mostly. The sheath seemed to partially weaken and slow it. Otherwise, I wouldn't have dodged-" Highfive suddenly went totally unseen as he must've gone flat to the wall floor. Vaguely, Jack saw the gray-green whip slice and lick across space. It didn't quite act like a tentacle, but it curled right around a crenelation to pull a sweep attack, like some wicked tongue seeking a morsel. But it couldn't linger, soon whipping back away and dissipating.

It better not be a tongue, I swear to-

By this point, Bo was deposited on the wall and under cover — almost immediately, she risked this to pop up and get a view of the attacker. She dropped away soon after. "Damn these hills! Need a line of sight to lock a Sandy on their offense. That'll put a little kink in their plans, eh?"

"Move down further this way," Inkblot said. "You should see their cover at some point, at least."

"Don't move too far his way," Jack warned. He wanted to help Highfive, though the enemy targeting him was pretty much ideal compared to the alternative. He went with a bit of simultaneous action, moving himself up and beginning some metal work on the wall.

It was a bit of a diversion from moving people and had multiple purposes, but might secondarily help Highfive's troubles with dodging. Utilizing the material Highfive brought up, Jack arrayed a long, continuous steel plate extending from the wall, anchored on the crenelations, blocking line of sight both ways from Highfive's vicinity. In addition, it left a sizable gap between the wall and the metal plate.

As Highfive got attacked again, and by signs, grazed again, Bo suddenly jerked and dove to the floor. The movement that way showed some kind of attack, but it was too quick.

"Bo!" Jack called. "Sound off!"

"I'm alright," she replied. "Just pulled a giant fraggin' quill out of my armor. It ricocheted off the damn crenelation! A volley. Another grazed my leg between plates on some kind of wild spin. Unlucky. It's slightly numb. A weakening agent? But it isn't bad, and it isn't getting worse. I think it's at a low level."

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

Jack grimaced. Damn it. Two pieces of ranged offense that can work around cover, and they must have some perception boosts of some kind, to be targeting us so acutely behind cover. That level aspect is a mercy, at least. They ought to be mixed levels, though, considering we are.

"Animalistic shit and being ranged probably means a Sentinel or maybe a Scout," Highfive said. "Themed gimmick plus enhanced senses. So, expect improved vision, hearing, maybe smell."

"Roger that," Jack replied as he made it over the wall. But he took a higher angle than necessary, so as he dropped, he was flashing a slight visual, deliberately to draw attention as a juicy target, immediately diving to the side in anticipation of attack, and keeping his eye out for angles the offense would come from — two different angles, from what he knew of the separation between Highfive and Bo.

Sure enough, both quills and the whip came his way. He wasn't where he'd be anticipated to be, and the whip was dodged by maybe a hand's length. The quills, he simply blocked with his shield, knowing the direction they'd come — relatively opposite to the other attack.

Muffled yelling and one girlish, cut-off scream of alarm echoed, as attacks suddenly ceased.

"Ha," Bo exclaimed softly, "Got 'em. They were bunched." She was watching from a wall gap. "They're panicking and scattering… And there she is! I've moved the Sandy to anchor on the whip girl. A matter of time before they figure that out and separate her, but her targeting should be screwed for a while. This is too far to be accurate in that blurry hell."

Jack took advantage of the distraction immediately. Giving a quick mental cue so Inkblot would show an outline for him across the distance, Jack wrapped a minimalist metal harness he had for Inkblot around him — this time, Inkblot temporarily expended more energy to make it invisible. It was not a comfortable frame at all, basically just a few torso bands, including under the arms for the main leverage, but they'd tested this more for what was 'tolerable' for the least amount of metal.

That done, Jack quickly took Inkblot over the wall and dropped him down to the ground — which he needed to risk his eyes over the wall to do, to make sure he didn't destructively drop him. But it was over and done with quickly, Jack soon flowing away the metal and burying it in the dirt. In any case, the amount of cover between the enemy and Inkblot made the brief sign being noticed at ground level virtually impossible, even without a sensory debuff running.

Now for Highfive.

Bo's maneuver had bought a ridiculous amount of time. He saw one brief strike of the whip, entirely wild and off-target, not even making it to the wall. After that, the team more or less disappeared as they retreated from the cover they'd previously used. Faint sounds of echoed voices could be heard, conversing and maybe arguing as they figured out what exactly was happening and the 'rules and dimensions' of Bo's effect.

Jack simply made an armored platform out of his nearby plate, for Highfive to ride down to the ground, and it didn't take much energy to lower compared to lift, any 'sinking' being desirable to begin with. The quill guy managed to gain a pretty stealthy angle to send a barrage at the descending giant, but these were not able to get past the steel plates; his powerset and his levels clearly not up to the task.

"The support is definitely a Medic," Bo reported. "He was trying something or other to help with the debuff. Don't think it worked. Still holding on disruption. It's going to cause more panic and confusion if held off until team engagement, I think. My effectiveness looks good on them except for the quill-user. Most of what he does is passive."

"Roger that," Jack said. "Highfive, be sure to try pulling or chasing them into the open, if possible. We work better with line of sight, even if it isn't strictly required."

"Roger," Highfive replied.

As Highfive began moving on the enemy position, and Inkblot was no doubt doing the same, Jack moved down the wall line to get a better view. He lifted a volley of darts with his memorite and launched them at the general position of his enemy. He didn't bother aiming or following up yet. Instead, he began planning for not being able to see the enemy, reaching out and finding his spent 'grenades.' Fortunately, there were large pieces mixed in, and the overall mass was significant enough that he could just barely harness it across the distance, like reaching a hand blind through a barrier and just barely getting your fingertips on the prize.

Simultaneously, while still on the move, Highfive took the opportunity to toss his own volley out of a big pouch, basically becoming a giant hand catapult with his aura, and doubling the area spread gains.

What a guy, what a guy…

Jack was able to turn the general zone into a particulate field, to utilize Interpret: Fieldsense with. He made it as wide as he could and began sweeping it where he thought the enemy was.

Soon, they began showing up in order to attack Highfive. Jack got a good look at the quills guy finally — he looked like some sort of mutant porcupine, covered in fur, bristles, and, of course, quills. He had on a helmet and a gas mask that left his oversized ears bared. Otherwise, he had on some sort of leather-looking underwear. The rest was thick hide and fur.

Ah, the strange things we see in this strange, strange life a Non leads.

The porcupine guy flung out his forearm to shoot his quills, launching them rapid-fire. Highfive, continuously moving forward, brushed aside one volley, then more or less ate another, as he ignored it and pretty handily avoided an errant flick of a degenerative whip Jack had not even seen coming. One quill might've hit Highfive's inner torso armor, but by then it had no energy and was forced back out into the dirt by the sheath. Meanwhile, a reddish-hued construct of wooden walls began moving to intercept Highfive's approach…

While he still had a sight picture, Jack took this opportunity to find a buried, relatively whole dart and rip it out, firing it immediately at his maximum output upon the flank of the porcupine guy. The guy's incredible senses, or possibly one of his teammates communicating a warning, made him turn at the last moment, but Jack had fired with a curve, making it tricky to completely avoid. It slammed into the guy's arm quite hard, and he dropped and rolled, soon diving for cover behind the emerging wall.

Jack felt around for a follow-up, but the material had fragmented, likely indicating the force had been System-blunted and translated as virtual energy. Something of a disadvantage, for him not being able to follow up on darts buried in flesh... but that was the rub in these exercises.

Highfive charged and slammed into a huge aggregate of wood, shattering pieces everywhere, but this did not seem to hamper the Guardian, who collapsed around his sheath with entangling tree limbs. Highfive broke out before being totally ensnared, at which point a larger limb, more like a trunk, swung and batted him, knocking him and sending him rolling something like a ball in his sheath — though he brought a big hunk of wood with him as he ripped it out of the main aggregate.

Jack was unclear how to help there, but the rampant entanglement seemed to dissuade the rest of the offense from engaging, so far. The whip user was hesitating, trying to track unsuccessfully in the melee. That was all fine. Priorities.

"Porcupine guy, we're calling Porker," Jack added to the gestalt. "The rest are Woody, Meds, and Whippit."

"Okay," Bo said in the gestalt, "Meds did something to Pork- wait, crap, he's a literal healer! I know the feeling of that power in particular. Great. I think he's missing levels on me, though. The buff he's using seems to make everyone a little tougher. Doesn't seem super strong."

"Confirmed," Inkblot added. "Meds touched his arm, and it went from wounded-looking to working pristine. Now he's touching an extension of the wooden wall near them. I'm in position for the final approach. Coming from the rear, northeast to southwest. Target?"

"Disrupt the healer?!" Bo asked anxiously.

Jack was on it like glue. "No go, Bo," he replied quickly, yet calmly. "Highfive can stall her regardless of regeneration. Ink, hit Meds. We've got a little longer before Whippit figures out the targeting. Bo, prepare to stun Meds immediately on Ink's mark. Just make her a sitting duck. One-shot or nothing, make it count, go for broke, Ink — do you roger?"

"Roger," Inkblot said.

It was a gamble, because the support was next to the tank — who was technically everywhere in the area — and in range of Porker, but an actual healer-type medic changed things. If Inkblot went for Whippit and didn't one-shot her, she might escape to the healer and undo their conspired big assassination wounding.

Jack reached out through his field to get a sense of bodies around, while trying to avoid tipping off Porker, who was a Sentinel. Jack had to create chaos or risk Inkblot's stealth being spoiled. In general, keeping them busy was the best 'counter to their counter,' as it were.

He picked the facing best suited to keep Inblot behind them, and scanned the area, soon discovering a couple of his seeded darts clustered together nearby — probably thanks to Highfive's beneficial angle when he launched his 'grapeshot.' One of the darts was whole, and one was shattered. He quickly grabbed it all and turned the mass into a tendril. He moved it once more toward the flank of Porker, who again noticed at the last second and tried to evade, while firing off a thick cluster of quills from his shoulder. At least, this is what it felt like had happened, through the field.

Jack had already turned the metal into liquid, in anticipation, briefly stalling it as quills passed through it. When they were clear, Jack utilized Throw across the short distance. With the unexpected speed, Porker didn't quite react in time, and the metal splat over his leg, gaining a hold, if chaotic and not the perfect thing to follow up with. His movements indicated stumbling and panic.

Distraction successful.

Highfive and Woody were mutually fending each other off in a wrestling match of sorts, with Whippit lurking around at a distance, looking for an opening and striking at Highfive occasionally. She'd hit her own teammate occasionally, but it just passed through the material without effect. Gradually, she was figuring out how to adjust to the debuff on her at such ranges, and would soon become more dangerous.

Meanwhile, Inkblot was moving in swiftly for the final approach to his target, his progress through the field like a blur to Jack's sensory input.

A lot hinges on this. Come on, Ink!

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