Bastion: O-Men: Liege’s Legion

by Elaine Levine

  Bastion had an edgy feeling he couldn’t ignore. After much preparation, Max had taken his girlfriend off to the love shack. They were alone in the remote back country. Bastion had set a protective dome of energy over the main campus of the team’s ranch, but had neglected to shield the little cabin. An oversight he regretted now as the sensation buzzing in his chest became more alarming.

  Another half-mile, and a strange chill crept over Bastion’s skin, warning him. There was a predator in the woods, one not made by nature but by the Omnis. Evil and deadly, it was a direct threat to the couple.

  Bastion parked his Jeep in a copse of evergreens. He tucked his sai into his belt, then stretched his arms wide and closed his eyes, letting his heightened senses fill in the blanks as he traced the energy he was feeling.

  One of Flynn’s ghouls was here. Bastion had been afraid of this—that the energy protection around the compound would attract Flynn and his monsters. Was this ghoul here because of him? Or had Flynn decided to hit the fighters he was surveilling?

  The ghoul’s energy led Bastion right to the little cabin. Warm light spilled out into the frosty night. Standing a short distance from the front deck of the cabin, Bastion projected his energy into the tiny space, terrified of what he would find.

  The table and chairs had been knocked over, and a ghoul was hunched over the stove, shoving food into its mouth. Bastion looked around the room. No one else was in the cabin. No blood spatter was on the walls.

  He’d gotten there in time to stop this monster, but he didn’t yet know if there were more in the woods, perhaps tracking the couple.

  Sensing Bastion, the ghoul looked over its shoulder. It saw nothing, since he wasn’t actually in the room. Bastion drew his energy back into himself as he stepped away from the house, slipping into the woods, drawing the monster out with him.

  The beast made no attempt to move silently, as would most other large predators. No, this fiend stomped its way toward Bastion, breaking saplings and branches beneath its unnaturally large feet.

  Bastion led it into a small clearing. Moonlight poured over the field like a spotlight. Bastion didn’t need the illumination it provided; he could see in the dark almost as well as in the daylight. So could the ghoul coming toward him. It sniffed the air, scenting him, its doglike snout wrinkled in a snarl that bared powerful canines.

  Bastion smiled and withdrew the two sai from the back of his belt. The monster had long, razor-like claws. Bastion couldn’t take for granted that the coming fight would be an easy one. Another mutant like this one had delivered a payload of mutant enhancements to Summer, Liege’s girlfriend, when it got close enough to slice her. No telling what other wicked deliveries Flynn had weaponized his pet monsters with.

  Bastion sometimes played with the ghouls before destroying them. Perhaps it was cruel, but cruelty was a human concept, and neither he nor the ghoul was human. He did it to test the boundaries of the beast’s lizard brain. Could it learn, adapt? Had it retained some of its human host’s intellect? Was Flynn evolving his monsters as he made new generations of them?

  Thought stopped and instinct kicked in as the ghoul prowled in a circle around him, looking for the best spot to attack. Bastion crouched, his sai held against his forearms. The beast lunged toward him, claws ready to rake Bastion, who blocked the thrust with his crossed sai then swept the ghoul’s clawed hand away in a downward parry. He dug the curved edge of the sai along the inside of the beast’s arm, slicing a trench in its flesh.

  First blood was always a trigger. The monster got faster and more aggressive. Bastion moved ever quicker, hitting pressure points, advancing and retreating, before shoving the hooked handle of one of his sai into the ghoul’s throat, ripping into it, releasing a rush of blood.

  Ghouls ran on adrenaline for a few minutes after the deathblow, so Bastion knew the fight wasn’t quite over. He kicked the ghoul backward. Caught off balance, it fell to the ground, gurgling and choking. Bastion flipped it to its stomach. He knelt on its back, and lifted its head, ready to slice its throat. A long moment passed where Bastion stared into the eye looking up at him. He could have sworn he saw emotion there. Peace, perhaps. Maybe gratitude.

  Neither were emotions that he expected to see, given what was left of the ghoul’s brain. Unfortunately, he didn’t have time for further thought. He could hear the snowmobiles returning. He slashed the ghoul’s throat and released his hold on its head.

  Broadcasting his awareness into the woods around him, Bastion tested for the presence of more ghouls or other enemies. None were there.

  Liege, aidez-moi.

  Sometimes Bastion and the rest of the guys on the team spoke verbally via their telepathic link and sometimes they spoke in simple knowings. Words were often imprecise and took longer to communicate than pure thought. When time wasn’t a luxury available to them, they simply shared their thoughts in their raw form. That was what he did now when he asked Liege to expand this search to a wider area and into town, looking for more ghouls or perhaps even Flynn himself.

  The ghoul you killed was the only one around, Liege responded seconds later. Bring the body here.

  I’m not leaving now—more could be on their way. Send Merc to fetch it.

  Bastion remembered he’d hadn’t covered the ghoul’s tracks, nor had he cleaned the cabin. Too late. Max had stopped to take a look at the ghoul’s tracks. Bastion quickly cast an illusion that covered the tracks, making them appear like a big cat’s. He watched through the woods as Max frowned at the prints, then hurried over to his girlfriend, who was staring at the cabin’s open door. Had they come back just a few minutes earlier, tonight’s outcome would have been much worse.

  Why just one ghoul? Bastion asked his team. One alone doesn’t make sense.

  Unless Flynn is spreading his flying monkeys out as far and wide as he can, Acier said, having them check out possible targets. The Red Team isn’t the only group fighting the Omnis.

  That answer didn’t fit. Perhaps, Bastion countered, but it becomes infinitely harder to control the beasts the more of them that are widely distributed.

  Maybe it was there because of you, Liege said. Flynn’s watching all of us closely.

  Or maybe it’s there because of the other mutants who live with the team or have visited recently, Guerre suggested.

  Find the scientists and get back here, Liege said. Let’s not bring more attention to this group than we already have.

  Oui, mon capitaine.

  Bastion blocked his next few thoughts from Liege and the team. No one on his team was allowed to see his light. Not yet, not while she was still so new to him.

  Selena.

  He silently spoke her name, letting his tongue wrap around its decadent letters. She belonged to him, and he to her.

  He’d said yes to Liege, but he’d meant no. There was no way he could leave here without her.

  He made a slow circuit around the cabin, checking for shifts in energy, hints of other threats. He’d just settled in for a long, cold night when Merc showed up with a thermos of hot coffee and a foot-long sub with triple meat.

  “Merci,” Bastion said, setting both aside so he could help Merc pack up the dead mutant.

  “Don’t thank me,” Merc said. “Thank Summer. She thought you might be hungry. I think she’s getting used to living with meat eaters.” He grinned at Bastion. “She put a shit-ton of it on your sub.”

  Bastion’s breathing came to an abrupt, though brief, stop. Summer. Liege’s woman, his light, his soul. She was proof that life mates were real. Liege had found his; it was possible the rest of them could find—and have—theirs without the Matchmaker’s curse shredding their lives.

  Merc sensed something was off with him. Bastion tried to hide the energy spike he’d just experienced, but his friend had felt it.

  “Right, mate. What gives?” Merc asked.

  “Nothing.”

  “Bullshit. You’ve been up here far longer than you should have been with nothing to show for
it. What’s keeping you here? And more to the point, what’re you hiding from us?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Then why keep yourself locked down? It’s not like we haven’t all noticed your retreat from us.”

  Bastion took the body bag from Merc and laid it out next to the monster. “Sometimes it’s good to mind your own business.”

  “You are my business.”

  Bastion ignored him as he unzipped the heavy black bag.

  “Who is she?” Merc asked.

  Bastion stopped fidgeting and kept still. Slowly, he got to his feet. “What makes you think it’s a woman?”

  “It always is with you, isn’t it?”

  Anger tightened Bastion’s body. He didn’t want the woman who was the light of his life spoken about like that, so he didn’t dignify Merc’s probing with an answer. Perhaps that in itself was an answer.

  “Are you going to help me with this or not?” Bastion asked as he bent down to grab the monster’s ankles. They got the ghoul zipped up. For a moment, Bastion stared down at the body bag, remembering the look the ghoul had given him before Bastion had delivered the fatal wound. “This one seemed relieved that he was being killed.”

  “Not possible. They have no intellect and little cognitive function. The mutation process destroys the host.”

  Bastion looked at Merc. “What if it doesn’t? What if more of the host remains than we think? What if the Omnis have changed their engineering?”

  “Yet another reason to locate the scientists. We need them to help us unravel what the Omnis are up to.” Merc hoisted the dead ghoul over his shoulder.

  “I saw the Matchmaker,” Bastion blurted out.

  Merc dropped the body bag. “Bugger off. You did not.”

  “She’s here. I can’t…I can’t leave her.”

  “Shit.” Merc put his hands on his hips. “Tell Liege.”

  “Non. He will pull me out of here.”

  “He won’t. He brought his light to the fort. I should think we all can, if we’re lucky enough to find ours. Bring her back with you.”

  “She’s one of the fighters here. She won’t leave her team easily.”

  “Summer didn’t leave her life easily either, but she’s at the fort now, with Liege.”

  “I need time.”

  Merc gave Bastion a hard stare, then nodded. “Right, mate. I’ll do what I can. You need help up here? Guerre doesn’t think this team is loyal to the Omnis.”

  “Nor do I, but I cannot explain the presence of mutants here.”

  “Maybe the mutant female who lives here was changed against her will, like Summer?”

  “Maybe, but then what explains the mutant male who’s visited here whose DNA connects him to the team’s leader? Or the couple whose DNA connects them to one of the civilian females? There are things I must explore further.”

  Merc nodded. “Not to mention your missus thinks you’re a wanker.”

  Bastion sighed heavily. “I haven’t actually met her yet. I mean, not for real. Not that I’ve let her remember.”

  “Well, to be honest, you aren’t that memorable, mate.” Merc grinned.

  “Ferme ta gueule,” Bastion growled.

  Merc laughed as he hoisted the body bag over his shoulder again. “Seriously, mate, it’s time to wrap this up. Show yourself to her.” A question occurred to him. “Do you think she’s seen the Matchmaker?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Right, then. I’m outta here. Keep it together, bro.”

  7

  The silence was as complete and deep as the shadows covering Bastion where he slept in the attic. He’d come back late the previous night after hanging out near the cabin, waiting for more ghouls to show up. None had. He’d extended the energetic protection he’d placed on the team’s compound all the way up to and around the cabin.

  Sooner or later, Flynn was going to realize he had one less ghoul on his team. That was only going to make him send more out here. Bastion’s window of opportunity was closing fast. Time to break things open.

  He’d hadn’t gotten enough sleep. He folded his arms behind his head and gave himself the luxury of waking slowly. He liked it here at the Red Team’s headquarters. He liked these people. There was no stink of desperation, no vicious whispers from anyone huddled in corners. It was clean and bright and busy. Children were happy. Women smiled often.

  Everything here was normal—normal, that was, for fighters participating in a secret war. Most here were regulars. The couple that were mutants and the male mutant hadn’t been back since Bastion had come inside the house. And the female mutant who was bonded to the leader here…Bastion wasn’t certain she was still changed. The mutant energy signature she was emitting had weakened. It wasn’t unheard of for human modifications to not take, or to exist only temporarily to perform a specific function. Perhaps that was her situation.

  But Selena, she was all human. What did that mean for the two of them? Could they have a future as a mixed mutant and human couple? If they were destined to be together, as the Matchmaker’s curse implied, then everything that was normal in her world would have to be left behind.

  Was she up to that?

  Was he prepared to rip her world apart?

  Bastion sighed. He had no more answers now than when he’d gone to sleep hours earlier, not for himself, not for Liege. He’d been prowling around inside the house now for weeks. He knew so much more about these people, but it was still too little to draw firm conclusions.

  Children lived here, with and without their parents. Women lived here, with their men. But one was alone, the one the Matchmaker intended for him. Selena. She wasn’t why he was here, he reminded himself. He shouldn’t let himself be preoccupied with her, but the pull to see her grew stronger every day.

  He dressed, then went downstairs to her room.

  After the first couple of nights he went to her, he’d kept himself from repeat visits. Until he knew more about the relationship between her team of fighters and the Omnis, he couldn’t risk approaching her.

  Flattening his hand on her door now, he tested the energy that lingered, curious who had come through this door since his last visit. Selena’s was the only energy he felt. He tamped down the rage swelling inside him at the thought that she might not be alone. Sometimes, there was a man who went into her room—the housekeeper. Bastion knew she felt only friendship toward him. Besides, she was rarely in the room when he was.

  Selena was alone, as she always was when Bastion visited. Did she feel him near her? Waiting to make her his was torture. He leaned his head against her door, thinking of the lore that surrounded the Matchmaker’s curse: if Bastion denied the match, he would die, and if he accepted it, his mate would die.

  Maybe neither of those outcomes were truly preordained. Maybe they were just two of an infinite number of possibilities.

  Maybe, but fighting the match was killing him.

  Things were going to change tonight. Bastion had to get Selena’s team to recall the couple from the cabin in the woods.

  It was time the team here knew he’d been watching them. He went down to the kitchen. A small vase of flowers sat on the table. He knew this room was being recorded on the security cameras—he was currently jamming them. The whole lower floor of the mansion was monitored, with all the French doors that were so easily breached. Upstairs, only the hallways and stairs were monitored.

  He would get the ops guy, Greer, to review their security videos today. He was sharp; he would absolutely catch the fact that a flower had jumped out of the vase in the before-and-after feeds of the room. He’d see all the static from Bastion’s interference and know something was up.

  Later that morning, Greer was in the ops room, sitting in front of a panel of computers. Bastion joined him there. Staying invisible to him, Bastion turned a chair around and straddled it. Time to check the security cameras, mon ami.

  Greer didn’t get the message. He had strong mental boundaries that were hard for Bastion
to penetrate.

  Bastion put all of his focus into sending Greer a sensation of anxiety, chasing that with a prompt to make sure the site was safe.

  After a few minutes, Greer switched his screens to the files recorded by the security cameras around the estate. It was a slow and tedious process. One by one, he moved the files over to a separate storage device.

  It took hours before he became concerned with all the static-filled images. And then he hit the video of Bastion in the kitchen and saw the flower in the vase, the static, the flower on the table. He replayed that a few times.

  Bastion could finally feel the alarm that Greer was feeling. Things began to move more quickly then.

  Bastion spent hours whispering prompts to Greer. Find the patterns, Greer. They are there. You can see my movements across the campus just by tracing the order of the videos that become static-filled. Look for it. Your friends are in danger. I can’t stay here with you, but you must summon the team.

  Either his guard slowly lowered or Bastion’s persistence paid off—Greer was at last feeling the urgency of the situation.

  Someone called Greer up to supper.

  Don’t go. Finish this. Max and his girl are in danger.

  Greer continued his work, now sorting the images by their time stamp. At last he’d found the pattern. He was going back through all the feeds, catching the last few minutes before the static appeared, then right after.

  Greer shot to his feet, then started pacing around the ops room as he glared at the computer.

  Once again, Bastion wished to have Liege’s ability to read minds. He knew his messages had finally gotten through, and he knew that Greer had found the right pattern, but he still hadn’t put the pieces together.

  So much was at stake. Lives of everyone here. Bastion could have forced Greer’s compliance, but he didn’t—he needed Greer to make his own determination, come to his own understanding. Bastion followed Greer up the stairs and through the house to the dining room, where supper was already underway. Greer’s girlfriend had filled his plate. Bastion stood in the corner of the dining room and glared at Greer, pumping dark emotions his way, urging him to gather the team and head out to the cabin.