As I walked away, Angus yelled to me for who I should look out for. "Miller's a tall man, about your size. He has some grey around his head, but you should be able to pick him out by his great bushy mustache. He's the only one who wears it that way. His second is Harold – that's his last name. He's smaller and a bit rounder. They're usually together out in the training yard."
Most of the teams were in the training area of the fort. Even though Bill informed everyone to get ready and have some time off before they left, the Team Leaders had different ideas on the matter.
Currently, five teams were milling about the area. All were huddled closely, talking within the confines of the wall's shadow. With everyone, more or less, sitting on either the floor or cut logs lying on their side, it was difficult to spot the person I was looking for. I moved in closer to see if I could spot the bushy mustache Angus mentioned.
The training area was situated in the far corner of the fort. Calling it a yard was a bit generous. There wasn't even that much space between groups. I slowly walked up to them so my eyes were at the edge of the shadow. I didn't want to make it obvious that I was looking at all of them, but it was.
While I was walking past them, I received more than a few sideways glares. When I was looking through the fourth group, I saw it – the big bushy beard. There was no mistaking how full and pointy it was. While Wilson talked, it seemed to tip side-to-side. His mouth was practically invisible underneath its thickness.
I was staring so intently that I missed what he said. He and many others saw me shuffling along; when I stopped to stare, whatever had been happening in his group paused. When I realized I missed what he said and came to my senses, I noticed the entire group staring in my direction.
"I'm sorry, what?" I stammered.
"Can I help you?" Wilson said, probably for the second time.
"Uh, yes." I stepped closer so I didn't have to speak too loudly. My name is Matt Gearwon. I – well, I'm new here and don't have a team. Angus sent me down here. He mentioned you're one of the Team Leaders."
"Angus did?" Wilson's mustache wasn't the only bushy feature on his face. His eyebrows scrunched up in thought. "I have a full squad, so I don't see why."
Wilson was seated on the sheared off log between two others in his team – one was a rotund man, but he lacked any semblance of fat; he was just round, and the other was a woman whose skin was dark as coal and glared at me like she was aflame. The man on his right had to be Harold.
"Angus did mention that everyone has a full team. When I asked him who I should talk to first, he mentioned you. He said that your team is the best." Wilson nodded at my last statement.
"He isn't wrong; we're the best. I guess that means you're asking to be part of my team?"
"Yes, sir," I said.
"What makes you think I would take you on?"
"I don't know what you need, sir, but I'm not without skills."
"Like what?" Wilson asked. I thought about what abilities I wanted him to know about.
"I have the ability to find and track just about anything. I'm an expert pathfinder. With the help of my robot, I have the ability to spot potential dangers from a distance." All those abilities were from a combination of my DTA and map programs. I decided to keep the descriptions simple, so I could add on if I was denied membership.
"So, you're a scout class then," Wilson said, trailing off in thought. "We already have a scout." Wilson flicked his head at Harold. "This is Arlington Harold. He's the best scout in the business, too."
"I ain't no scout," Harold harumphed.
"Okay, so he's not originally a scout, but he's still the best."
"It's nice to meet you, Mr. Harold," I said. They still hadn't denied me, so I continued being polite. Plus, they weren't rude, so there was that."
Harold sat on the log, his arms crossed as he glared at Wilson. His round face frowned while sitting on his massive shoulders. It looked like he didn't even have a neck to speak of. When Wilson didn't respond to the stare, Harold stood, stepped between a couple others and reached out to me to shake hands. He barely came up to my chest, but when he grabbed my hand, I felt as if it was caught in a bear trap.
He pulled hard, and I almost fell over.
I managed to stop myself, and when I did, I found we were at eye level. He continued to squeeze my hand until it started to hurt. I tried to squeeze back, but I just couldn't apply any meaningful resistance because of how he was gripping and how I was angled.
"Ow," I said after it all lasted an uncomfortably long time.
"Ha," Harold barked. "I win again."
"Please excuse, Harold," Wilson said. "He's incredibly proud of his winning streak." He made air quotation at, winning streak."
"I ain't lost since about fifteen years back," Harold said, flopping down again on the log bench. "Big ole brute a man, he was-" He looked up to the sky with an angry scowl and a raised fist before returning to his aloof attitude.
"As I was saying, those are impressive skills, but we have a scout."
"But Mr. Harold also mentioned that he isn't a scout."
Wilson glared at Harold, but the latter didn't seem cowed.
"Be that as it may, everyone here has worked together for a long time now. There's a reason we're the best."
"This might be the perfect chance," Harold said cryptically to Wilson.
Wilson looked back at me and stared for a moment in thought. After a moment, he motioned with a wave of his hand for Harold to take over.
"You any good with that crossbow?" Harold asked. "It's not a very common weapon to use around here."
"I think I have a knack for it," I replied. I didn't want to say I just received it since he was clearly considering the prospect of letting me join their team, but I thought I could add a little more to my repertoire. "I'm better with a spear, though, if you have an extra one."
"We don't have extras. Maybe if someone dies." Wilson interjected.
"I'll tell you what," Harold said. "Wilson wasn't lying about my skill. I'm the best here. But," he let the word hang for a moment while he glanced at Wilson. "I wasn't lying either. I ain't a scout. Furthermore, I'm gettin' tired, and this may be my last go.
"Ha! You've said that before," Wilson said.
"Before, we didn't have a possible replacement. I ain't gonna leave if I don't think my people are safe. For that, I have to be able to trust you. To do that, I need to be able to assess your capabilities."
"And how do you do that?" I asked.
Harold stood up and walked away from the wall to an open area. His robot followed him, its three legs kicking up small dust clouds as it plodded along. The robot was a guard subclass, but Harold had clearly upgraded it differently than others.
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Based on the three legs and the body in the middle, he clearly had a Guard Subclass, but that was about where the similarities ended. Most guard robots had a rounder shape. Based on the upgrades they assign, it changes its outward appearance slightly. That was why I had seen different types with spikes or other minor differences.
The body of Harold's robot was all angles and lines. Even the feet of the robot were different. Most had rounded feet that resembled upside-down cups. Harold's had three concave triangles on each leg. The feet clamped together with a light click every time the leg was in the air.
Harold stopped about thirty paces away from me. His robot stopping at its feet and lowering to the ground.
"Symbiotic Mode," he said,
The robot's legs shot straight into the air with a rattle of metal. If someone were to be above it when Harold called the command, they would be impaled. I could see a small hole open at the top of his robot. Harold kneeled down and jammed his fist inside.
When his arm was inside, he seemed to press down on something that gave way to the pressure. As he did, the hole closed, sealing around his arm with a puff of air. Harold stood and lifted the entire robot off the ground and high above his head. His pose reminded me of someone raising their arm in triumph.
The robot's previously stiff legs moved. One wrapped around his shoulder, another around his waist, and the third snaked around his head. All the legs detached from the body but continued to mold around his body parts. While the robot's legs morphed into armor and the exoskeleton, the base worked its way down Harold's arm.
Plates of metal shifted and flipped into place. What remained over his left forearm, after continuing past, was a sleek shield with a sharp triangular end. Once the entire process was done, I realized Harold didn't have an additional weapon. He had the pointed shield on his left arm, but nothing on his right could be a weapon. I concluded that he must be left-handed, which made his shield his primary weapon.
"If you can evade capture for more than five minutes, or if you can land a hit on me, I'll feel comfortable with your skill level."
"So, if one of those things happens, I'm going to replace you?" I asked skeptically.
"If either of those happens. IF. You'll become a probationary member who's ready to get some training."
"I can use the crossbow?"
"You better use everything you have, or else you won't have a chance. Now. You ready?"
"Symbiotic Mode," I said.
My goggles sealed the air around my eyes. The mask expanded to cover my face and the side of my head. The display changed to show my De and stamina, along with the symbol showing damage status. For the first time, I could feel a tingle of energy course through my body from top to bottom.
I felt powerful.
It could have been my imagination, but I thought the energy was whatever increased my strength when in Symbiotic Mode. It was just another thing I had to look up when I had the time. Others had their exoskeleton, and I had whatever the tingle was.
I loaded a crossbow bolt. I would only get one shot due to our distance. I wanted to ensure I was ready and didn't waste it.
"Ready," I said. The loud metallic voice booming from my mask.
"Dang," I heard Harold's comments under his breath. I saw him flinch, too, at the noise. I heard a slew of other noises coming from all around, but I tried to focus on my opponent. There was a red sheen around Harold, which I knew was the targeting software of my goggles. I knew it could do better, though.
"Lock-on target," I said. That time, I winced at the sound because everyone heard what I said. I would need to look into how to make my commands silent. My list of things I needed to do or research was getting too long.
"Good luck with that," Harold said. The pointed tip of his shield suddenly fell away from his shield. Extending between the falling tip and the rest of the shield was a chain. Harold grabbed the chain with his free hand and started to spin the tip around to his side.
The triangular blade whistled as it swung through the air.
The red outline around Harold solidified in intensity. Multicolored points appeared across his body, showing me the best and worst places to attack. Before I could do more than give a cursory glance, A warning trill of danger blasted in my ear. My DTA program flashed red without arrows, so I knew the danger was straight ahead. Of course, I didn't need the DTA to know that – I could see the sharpened triangle flying at me.
I ducked to the side and rolled out of the way. I brought up my crossbow to sight on Harold to see if I had a shot. A couple of different things happened all at once.
Harold had already retracted his weapon and was once again swinging it in circles. Instead of to the side, he was spinning it above his head. He knew he was in danger, so he started running when I came up. He didn't stop twirling his weapon, even when sprinting to the side.
When I raised my crossbow to sight on Harold, a sound I never heard before blared in my ear. It was a deep honk that pulsed three times. Also, a small red arrow appeared just above the crossbow, pointing toward the moving form of Harold. The arrow was dark red, but as I swung it toward Harold, it began to lighten and change.
It appeared my DTA program was well suited for using a ranged weapon.
When I finally had Harold's running form in my sights, I expected the arrow would change color and shape or disappear at the very least. The arrow in my display was still yellow, and it continued to indicate I needed to move it to the right. I was about to do that, but my quarry abruptly switched directions. As my aimpoint passed over Harold, the arrow briefly turned green. Just as quickly, it flipped in the other direction and returned to yellow.
Harold spun in the opposite direction, whipping his bladed chain out when he did. The distance he could fling it was astonishing. It was clearly a mechanic of his robot's ability because no one could do that without help. Although, having that knowledge didn't help me.
The blade flew low – about a foot or two off the ground. The trajectory of his chain was nowhere close to my position. It was flying out at least ten paces off from where I stood.
Harold jerked his arm violently in my direction for a fraction of a second and then moved it back to its original position. A wave of movement started running down the length of the chain with increasing speed. Just as the crest reached the end of his chain, my DTA blinked and trilled perilously with an indicator to my left.
Knowing that the bladed chain was low, I did the only thing I could think of – I jumped.
The chain jingled under my feet as it whizzed by. Harold had tried to wrap it around my feet to trap me. I wouldn't have escaped if it wasn't for my robot.
The chain retracted, and Harold once again swung it in large circles. His pattern also continued to change. He would flip the chain between his left and right side a couple of times before wrapping it around his arm or leg. Whenever I moved to lift my crossbow, he would spin his body slightly, wrap it around another limb, then launch it in my direction.
I had to constantly dodge and scramble away. I considered taking an unaimed shot at him in the middle of one of his spins, but with only one shot, I didn't want to waste it. The short skirmish already cemented my assertion that I wouldn't have time to load another. Then I realized that his continuing, straightforward attack, coupled with my dodging, was good enough. I just needed to outlast him based on the rules of the match. Harold was working against himself by not pressing forward to capture me.
Harold seemed to realize it a few moments after I did. It was probably my fault. I stopped pressing forward and focused on dodging better. Like me, he had gotten too involved in the fight. Once the flow shifted, he remembered the goal.
Harold spun and whipped the chain out in an arc. My DTA started warning me of the danger from the right. Again, the chain was coming in low, and Harold moved to alter its form.
As the chain arced in my direction, Harold flung his arm around in a large circle. The circle began making its way up the chain, and I had no idea what that would make it do. With the unpredictable attack surging toward me, my only option was to get closer. Turning around would take too long, and I didn't think I would make enough space by jumping back.
I ran forward to avoid the arcing and spinning blade, then tried to jump so I wasn't entangled. My jump kept me from getting tangled, but the chain slammed into my head under my jaw.
I flipped backward and was almost upside down when I slammed into the ground. The speed and weight of the chain, along with my being in the air, was too much. My crossbow fell from my grasp as I hit the ground. I couldn't worry about it, though. My DTA was blaring again of an impending attack.
Out of instinct, I rolled to the side even though I didn't have time to register the direction the attack was coming from. The blade missed me, but when I turned around again on my back, I was slammed in the chest with the chain. The air was driven from my lungs, but my cultivation and protection from Symbiotic Mode kept it from being too bad.
I grabbed the chain before it could retract or Harold could do anything else, then I rolled back in the opposite direction. I used my weight rolling over the chain to help as I yanked as hard as possible.
I could tell that my plan worked as the chain slackened momentarily. I didn't bother to check how far I had pulled the older man. My only concern was not being caught up in the chains. My opponent had too many tricks to employ against me. With the amount of scrambling I was doing, I wouldn't make time before I was caught.
I scrambled up and immediately located my crossbow. Thankfully, it was just off to the left of where I fell. The chain started retracting as soon as I stood. I knew then that I didn't have much time.
I scooped up my crossbow and rapidly spun into a kneeling position while drawing my sights on Harold. His silhouette turned green just as his chain finished retracting, and he started to spin it. I pulled the trigger. The bolt sprang forward as the crossbow kicked back into my shoulder from the force. I could tell my shot was good, though.
Harold spun his chain in front of him like a windmill in a tornado. The chain hit the bolt and batted it away. I could hear the bolt snapping and see as it spun off to the side.
Harold spun his chain around once above his head and then flung it out in a wide arc that was low to the ground. My DTA blared, and I prepared to jump over it again. When it was close, I began my leap into the air.
Harold whipped his hand up in a diagonal slash, and the chain followed the path. My feet had left the ground, and there was nothing left that I could do. I braced for impact.
"Time," Wilson yelled just before the chain struck me. The chain hit me but not as hard as I thought. Instead, it continued wrapping around me a few times, and the bladed end eventually wrapped around the chain.
I was trapped, but I managed to last until the time was up.