Bastion: O-Men: Liege’s Legion

by Elaine Levine

  The boys looked to be in their early twenties or late teens. Both were tall and lanky, but they were the exact opposite in coloring. One was dark-haired, the other blond. Both had blue eyes.

  Who was their Omni handler? He had to be powerful, if the boys were allowed to be on the WKB campus while it was infected with FBI rats.

  Brett slipped into the blond’s mind, availing himself of one of his super skills as a mutant human—his ability to read minds. It was troubling in there. Fear, worry, fierce loyalty. Interesting. That loyalty had nothing to do with the Omnis and everything to do with his collection of watchers, ragtag urchins though they were.

  The second boy’s mind was even darker. His energy was beautiful—a tall drink of anger, hatred, regret, and mourning. Brett lingered longer in the dark one’s mind, sucking in the turmoil. He could use this one, grow him into his next host. The Legion had recently destroyed Brett’s last host, leaving Brett full of hunger with no outlet.

  The boys spoke little while they worked. When they were down to the last two boxes, the dark one looked around. Hawk was his name, Brett had discovered.

  “Time to go,” the blond one said. Lion. He called the watchers under his command his “pride.” Hawk was his second-in-command.

  Hawk’s haunted eyes swung toward Lion. “We spent most of our lives here. I hated it every single day, but I feel odd leaving it.”

  Lion nodded as his gaze swept the room. “We’re leaving it for new and better times. New adventures. Nothing stays the same.”

  Brett followed them to the truck they’d stashed up the hill, on a Forest Service road. He didn’t know where they were headed, but he climbed in the truck’s crowded bed after its load had been secured. Where would a couple of former watchers hang out? Kids like these weren’t equipped to join normal society. They needed to exist inside a structured framework, one that would support them—and use their special talents. If their being on the WKB compound while the Feds were here told Brett anything, it was that they’d burned their relationship with the Omnis and had been taken in by another group.

  But who?

  The Red Team, a group of fighters, wouldn’t likely burden themselves with a bunch of abandoned boys. Had the state or the Feds taken them in?

  Brett didn’t have long to discover the answer. About an hour after they left the WKB compound, the kids turned off onto the Red Team property. Brett immediately felt the pain of his attempt to pass through Bastion’s dome of protection. It hit all of his senses at once, making his body feel as if it were being crushed and burned at the same time. The boys hadn’t fully left the road before the effects of the protection could be felt. Brett made them stop so he could hop out of the back and cross the street to the other side.

  As soon as the aftershocks of the pain wore off, Brett laughed and danced around like a fool, knowing no one could see him. He’d found his way into the Red Team. The boy with the dark mind, Hawk, would be the perfect host.

  Brett summoned a car that was heading into town. Taking the driver under his control, he ordered the man to take him to the WKB compound. Brett needed to fetch his car. The driver would never remember the ride out to the compound—he would awaken from his trance having lost two hours of time with no explanation at all.

  Bastion was in the gym building when the boys’ alarm went off the next morning. The room was still dark. Groans followed the wake-up call. Lion rolled out of his bunk and started slapping the boys’ mattresses. Kids spilled from their bunks. The younger ones went to their trunks to dress. The older ones walked past Bastion on their way to the locker room.

  The next few minutes passed in ordered chaos. Boys got dressed and made their bunks, then roughhoused unsupervised for a bit. Bastion followed the older boys to the locker room. Lion, the leader of the group, was shaving. Bastion leaned in to get a closer look at his reflection. There were tattoos beneath his brows. Reading backward in the mirror, Bastion made out three words in the elaborate script of his ink: “Fear the” on one brow, and “Lion” on the other.

  What did that mean? Why would he ink his brows?

  Bastion backed away and watched the older boys shaving. Every one of them had those hollow eyes that young trauma survivors had, like their souls had been pried from their bodies, leaving behind the empty hulls. These males would be prime targets for the Omnis.

  While the older boys were busy, Bastion went back into the gym. He compelled the younger boys to line up at the door in two rows, then ordered them to face him—all while keeping himself invisible and holding the boys in a trance.

  “Who are you?” Bastion asked them.

  “We’re watchers,” they answered—in unison, as if it were a practiced response.

  “What do watchers watch?”

  Several answers came at once. “King’s gold.”

  “The woods.”

  “Whatever we’re told to watch. People, sometimes.”

  Interesting. They were a group of baby spies. And what was that about King’s gold? “Why are you here? What are you watching here?” Bastion continued.

  “Nothing. We’re not watching anything anymore.”

  “We used to be wild, but now we’re caged.”

  Those answers took Bastion aback. The blond kid came into the gym, his fast stride slowing when he noticed the boys lined up and vacant-eyed. Bastion released them from the trance he’d imposed.

  “What’s going on?” the inked boy asked.

  “Nothing, Lion. Why?” one of the older kids answered.

  “Because you’re all lined up and acting weird,” Lion said.

  “No we aren’t,” one of the boys said. “We’re just waiting to go to breakfast.”

  Lion and Hawk exchanged looks. The boys finished dressing and made their beds. When Lion led them out of the gym, Bastion followed. Three more boys and the teenaged female were waiting for them in the living room. A young, heavy-set, dark-haired woman came into the room. There was an air of authority around her. She smiled at the boys with genuine affection, then ushered them into the dining room. Bastion soon discovered she was the kids’ teacher. The cooks already had the buffet set up. One of the fighters came in and gave the teacher a hug.

  The meal went much as the one yesterday morning went. The kids ate, cleared the table, then rushed off to play for a few minutes before classes started.

  The energy in the room shifted from the kids’ fast, unfocused, and explosive buzz to the more moderate, intense, and contained hum of the adults. Perhaps the fighters here were between battles, but they hadn’t let their guards down.

  Bastion lingered a little longer, waiting for Selena to come down. She did after almost everyone else had finished. She was sitting a few seats away from the last few people when the cold-eyed owner of the group walked in. Energy flashed from Selena to Owen, instantly raising Bastion’s hackles. Who was this man to her? How dare he think to have two women, one of whom belonged to Bastion?

  Bastion’s eyes narrowed to slits as he mentally squeezed Owen’s skull. The bossman slammed his empty mug on the buffet table and pressed the heel of his hand against his temple.

  “You okay, Owen?” Selena asked, frowning.

  “Yeah. Weather must be changing. I need to go take something for this headache.”

  Bastion eased up on the pressure he’d imposed as Owen left the room and turned his attention back to Selena, who was entirely focused on her breakfast and showed no concern at all for her boss. What had he just seen pass from Selena to Owen if not interest? Maybe it was the same with Owen as it was with Val, the other blond giant. Maybe she had history with both men. Maybe whatever she’d felt hadn’t been reciprocated. Maybe the yearning was still there.

  Bastion squeezed his eyes shut, hoping that yearning was all she’d been feeling. He’d never in his life felt jealousy. Nor had he ever felt so violently possessive. What had the Matchmaker done to him?

  Disgusted with his lack of control, Bastion forced himself to spend the day away from Se
lena. He drove his Jeep around the side of the house, following the track that the team took up to the love shack. The rough dirt road went deep into the hills behind the mansion. After a few miles, it became even rougher, passable only with off-road vehicles. Bastion got as close as he could, then parked and continued on foot. At the end of the trail was an old hunting cabin.

  Judging from the debris scattered around, it looked like the cabin had been in sorry shape but was coming alive again. Max and Greer were working on the balusters for the railing out front. They'd selected various branches to make a rough, rustic look. Bastion went inside the cabin, where women were hanging linens on the windows and around the built-in bed. There was no electricity in the house, so the stove was an old-fashioned wood-burning cooktop. There was a fireplace that was the only source of heat in the one-room space.

  None of the furnishings were what Bastion would have selected, but what fascinated him the most was that the whole group was here participating on various aspects of the cabin’s renovation.

  Like a family.

  It made him less hostile toward them—or less suspicious of them, anyway. No Omni of any ranking would put effort into something like this—they had servants for that. That thought should have been reassuring, but it wasn’t.

  He still couldn’t explain why they were here.

  Bastion went outside again and saw Max heading down a narrow forestry road on a motorcycle.

  Bastion followed him, curious where he was headed and what else was hidden up here. It was close to a mile before he got to the point where Max stood overlooking a mountain ravine. It was a mild day for December in the Medicine Bow Mountains. But with the sun setting earlier than usual, a chill was creeping in. Bastion wondered what deep thoughts Max was contemplating as he stood at the edge of the bluff, staring into the ravine below. Bastion kept himself hidden as he watched the fighter. After a while, Max went back to the cabin.

  Bastion wandered around the ridge for a bit. trying to understand why it was important to the fighter. All he saw was the rough terrain and the rugged hills of the mountains. He headed back to the cabin, but by the time he got there, everyone was gone. Tools were stowed. He took a last look at the cabin, wondering why it was important to the team.

  He might never understand some things about these people.

  At last, the boy Brett had seen at the WKB compound was leaving the Red Team headquarters. Brett had positioned himself across the compound, waiting for the kid. He felt energy zing through him and sucked in a deep, delicious breath of it.

  A different man was with the boy this time. He was the main housekeeper, though he also had the vibe of a fighter. Brett followed them into town. They parked in the grocery store. Brett entered the store behind them, keeping himself hidden. Finding a new host was never easy. He always needed to select someone who was capable of being in sync with him, usually someone with deep emotional wounds, someone in desperate straits, someone who was a beautiful wreck.

  Like his Hawk.

  Hawk’s friend, Lion, didn’t have a mind that was easily penetrated. But Hawk’s mind and his whole soul were screaming. Such delightful pain.

  All the elements seemed to be in place for Brett to make Hawk his next host. Today, Brett would test how well he and Hawk could work together—after all, Brett wanted it to be a pleasant experience, since they would both benefit from their symbiosis. For a while, anyway, until Hawk’s usefulness expired.

  Brett took up residence in Hawk’s mind as the boy helped the housekeeper shop. There were many times that Hawk wanted something but passed by it without putting it in the cart.

  Why do you deny yourself? Brett asked via their new mental link.

  I don’t have my own money to spend.

  That first communication was easy. Brett felt no resistance from Hawk. And the boy’s answer was important; it revealed that Hawk wanted his own income—and his independence. Both were things Brett could offer him.

  Those things and so much more. Hawk’s joining with Brett would be his death, but he would enjoy his last weeks or months far more than was the norm for a nothing child like him.

  Hawk went past a column of different beef jerkies. Brett felt the boy’s rise of desire.

  Get it. Take what you want. You deserve it, Brett urged him. Still, Hawk’s innate self-control kept him from following Brett’s compulsion. Brett stopped the cart before Hawk had left that section.

  It’s time you thought about yourself, Brett said, taking a gentler tack.

  Hawk grabbed two big packs of jerky and dropped them in the cart. The housekeeper looked at the packs, then at Hawk, then moved on without commenting.

  See? Nothing is forbidden to you. Whatever you want is yours.

  Brett almost regretted taking Hawk as his host. Their time together would be exquisite, but sadly, he knew it would end. And when it did, Brett knew he’d never find another host who suited him quite as well.

  6

  Selena and Ace were in the gym working out on the machines. Selena had just finished a five-mile run. Usually, their morning exercise routine included some sparring time with bo staffs, but Ace’s arm was still in a cast.

  “Okay,” Ace snapped. “What’s up with you? You haven’t heard a thing I’ve said.”

  Selena wiped her face with a towel. “Sorry. I don’t know. I’m just not myself.”

  “Getting a cold?”

  “No.”

  “More weird dreams?”

  “Maybe. Nothing that I remember. But that’s the thing. I keep feeling as if I’ve forgotten something that I should know.”

  “I hate that. Maybe you’re just tired.”

  “Maybe. But I’ve been stuck in the bunker scanning docs for the last few days. That’s not exactly tiring.”

  “Why not take some personal time? Go see your parents. We all just came through a rough time. Go home for Christmas.”

  “I guess I could, but I don’t want to miss Max and Hope’s wedding. Maybe after.”

  “Think about it, anyway.”

  Brett folded his hands behind his head as he lay on the bed in his hotel room. He could do his remote viewing from the comfort and safety of his own home, but it was a couple of hours south of Wolf Creek Bend, and he wanted to be nearby in case things shook loose with the Red Team.

  He closed his eyes, listened to the sound of his breath, taking a few moments to relax himself from head to toe. When he no longer felt an awareness of himself, he was free to go where he wanted, traveling into the astral realm…or into the body of his new host.

  He did the latter.

  How delicious the boy was. Such pure energy he had. Full of hopes and fears and the boundless power of youth. Brett let his consciousness stretch into the skin of Hawk’s lanky body. It felt like he was coming home for the first time in years.

  Brett’s previous hosts had been older, more used up by life. He’d chosen them because they were already inclined toward the proclivities that Brett favored—they had just never taken the plunge into the dark side. It had been a joy pushing them over the edge, seeing them indulge their criminal fantasies.

  But Hawk—he was entirely different. Innocent. Wholesome. And so angry at life. With him, the journey would grow from scratch. It could take a long time to bend the boy to Brett’s will, but Hawk would be a masterpiece when Brett was finished with him. He wished their end would never come, for when it did, it would mean the last moments of the boy’s life—and their lives together. The boy would reach the pinnacle as Brett’s creation, a last burst of brilliance before Hawk’s life flamed out.

  Brett actually shivered inside Hawk’s skin, causing gooseflesh to rise on the boy’s arms. How beautifully in sync they were.

  Of course, it wouldn’t be Brett’s use of his host that would terminate him. No, it would be Brett’s enemies. The Legion. They always caught up to Brett’s hosts. The Legion would destroy Brett’s perfect pet.

  He realized he would actually mourn the loss of this one, when
that time came. But that was a long while from now. A long, long time. He had the present to enjoy molding his new host. Best to focus on the now and not the terrible future.

  Before the fun could actually begin, Brett needed to follow Hawk around, experience his days and nights, learn his joys and frustrations. He had to become Hawk.

  Brett was actually curious to see what was happening inside the Red Team headquarters. This miserable group of mercenaries had begun cutting into Brett’s family’s organization. Though they were only regulars, the Red Team had done significant damage. The Omnis had pulled back, electing to take a low profile while there was so much heat surrounding the Red Team’s discoveries of two of the Omnis’ subterranean fortresses.

  That position was a weakness, to Brett’s thinking. The Omnis should have struck hard and fast, throwing a shadow over the Red Team and all like them, sending a message to any other groups who thought they were equal to the task of bringing down the Omni World Order.

  But Brett was not the one running the show. And as an Omni outcast, his opinion couldn’t even be heard. No matter. There were always multiple ways to skin a cat.

  Crushing the Red Team would be a significant blow to the Legion. With enough successful forays like this, Brett would earn a seat at the Omni table and would no longer be ignored. They’d have to acknowledge him. Scars and all.

  Who are you?

  A frisson slipped into Brett’s astral body at Hawk’s sweet voice. Nobody, Brett answered.

  But why do I hear you?

  Because I’m your spirit guide.

  Have you always been there?

  Not always. Your needs have changed, so your guides have changed. Don’t worry. All will be well. I will help you. We’ll have amazing adventures.

  The boy left it at that, though Brett could tell his mind was churning. Brett could simply conscript the boy’s mind, but it would be ever so much more fun to feel the boy’s observations of the new experiences Brett would bring to him.