The Legion: Heartson

Figure 1: Hand over Mason Heartson.

The two boys stared in horror as the masked assailants stood over them with their hands out. Three men in total, each one an armored giant, at least six feet tall or more. 

Weapons, far too many weapons, adorned their bodies like ornaments. The one standing in front had two swords strapped to his back, while the other two were armed to the teeth with knives, rifles, and all sorts of sharp, menacing tools that screamed violence.

Figure 1: I'm going to ask one more time. Hand over Mason Heartson.

The voice cut through Mason's mind, sending a jolt of terror through his body. His name. They knew his name.

His throat went dry. He opened his mouth to speak, the words tumbling out in a shaky, desperate attempt to diffuse the situation.

Mason: Look, we can—maybe we can work something out...

Figure 1: Don't play games!

His words were venomous, the low growl of a predator toying with its prey. He took a step forward, swords unsheathed, their blades gleaming wickedly as he closed in.

Mason's heart pounded in his chest, the rapid thud of panic vibrating through his entire body. 

He's going to kill us.

The thought screamed through his mind, louder than the approaching footsteps. He didn't know what to do—run, fight, beg—but none of it mattered. 

I'm going to die.

The man got within five feet of the boys but before he could take another step forward he halted and looked down, noticing the sword that had pierced through his own chest. 

Claire gritted her teeth as she pulled the sword out of the first man and quickly swung it around to cut off his head cleanly. The other two men seemed to have been momentarily stunned but they quickly recovered and pulled out their own weapons, hurriedly advancing to avenge their comrade.

Claire made quick work, sidestepping the second man's knife and using her sword to cut into his right arm causing him to drop his weapon. Before she could deliver a killing blow to him, the third man charged at her but Claire was much faster, moving out of the way of his attack and driving her sword up his back causing him to fall to the ground. 

The man with the injured arm attempted to recover and picked up his knife with his left hand, however it was clear he was nowhere near as proficient with that hand as his swings became lazy and predictable. Claire dodged his attacks with minimals effort and drove her sword straight through his neck, killing him instantly.

Mason stood frozen, his mind racing, unable to process the scene in front of him. His body trembled, not from fear, but from the sheer shock of what he had just witnessed. Claire—his calm, composed, ever-reliable maid—had just slaughtered three armed men with the ease of someone folding laundry.

Mason: C-Claire... how did you...?

But Claire didn't even glance his way.

She moved with purpose, her eyes cold and focused as she turned towards Thomas. In a flash, her blade was at his throat, pinning him against the wall.

Claire: Who are you really?

Her voice was calm, unnervingly so, but there was an intensity in her gaze that made Mason's skin crawl. Thomas, eyes wide with shock, gasped as the blade pressed harder against his neck.

Claire: Did you lure them here?

Thomas struggled to breathe, his voice barely a rasp.

Thomas: I—I didn't... I swear!

Claire: Do you know who these men are or why they're here?

Thomas once again shook his head, looking directly into Claire's eyes to try to convince her he was telling the truth.

Claire: Are you really Thomas Martin, and was your sole purpose in coming to this city to actually help Mason Heartson?

Thomas nodded up and down, his eyes beginning to water as he began losing more and more oxygen.

Claire's expression didn't change, her eyes searching his face for any sign of deceit. After what felt like an eternity, she slowly lowered the sword, stepping back but not taking her eyes off him.

Thomas collapsed to the floor, gasping for air, his hands clutching at his throat where the blade had been moments before. Mason felt a strange knot of guilt twist in his stomach, but before he could speak, Claire turned her sharp gaze to him.

Claire: Your message. It must have been intercepted.

Mason: I- I swear I didn't-

Claire: No excuses. We need to move to the safe room. Now.

Mason nodded, his throat once again becoming dry. He was hit with an overwhelming amount of guilt and shame as he realized that his own stupidity had almost led to his death, as well as the death of a complete stranger. 

He rushed to follow Claire, who was already running to the safe room, but he noticed, strangely, Thomas, who was still staring at the bodies that were on the floor while clawing at the spot on his neck that had been choked moments earlier. Thomas bent down and picked something up off the body of a fallen soldier, and then sprinted towards Mason and Claire, attempting to catch up to the two of them.

Explosions and smoke rang out through the entire building, leaving a foul smell in the group's nose. Despite the smoke that limited their vision, Claire still marched forward as if she had a perfect view of the room. 

Finally, after what seemed like a marathon of sprinting, they finally arrived outside the room where the smoke seemed to clear up. Unfortunately this allowed them to see exactly what was in front of them.

At least twenty men stood in front of the safe room, each one carrying a rifle aimed right at them. All of them were equipped with armor and an assortment of weapons like the men from earlier.

Armored Man: Surrender Mason Heartson to us now and we'll spare your lives.

Claire: Is that supposed to comfort us?

The man who had spoken paused for a second considering the question before answering.

Claire: Didn't think so.

In a single fluid motion Claire took Mason and Thomas by the back of their shirts and dragged them into the thick cloud of smoke behind them, shielding them from the view of their attackers.

The men instantly began firing blindly through the smoke until a loud voice rang out.

Voice: WE HAVE CLEAR ORDERS! DO NOT SHOOT THE ASTRAL USER!

The gun fire stopped as abruptly as it had begun giving Mason, Claire, and Thomas time to escape through the corridor.

Claire: They've completely taken over downstairs so we can't go back there. They were guarding the safe room so chances are they have the layout, or some kind of blueprint to the mansion so I'd assume every room and escape is being heavily guarded. 

Without uttering another word, the message was clear to both boys. If the assailants were knowledgeable about the mansion's layout, escaping or finding a hiding spot within it was impossible.

Mason's breath hitched, panic clawing at his throat as the reality of the situation crashed down on him like a tidal wave. 

Is this it? Is this how I die? 

His heart pounded in his chest, the sound deafening in his ears as the walls seemed to close in around him. Claire was strong, frighteningly so—but there were too many. Too many for her, too many for them all.

His mind raced back to that moment when he had been cornered, his body freezing up despite all the training he'd endured. All of it, worthless. When it mattered most, he had crumbled, locked in place by fear. He felt his stomach churn at the memory, a wave of nausea mixing with the growing terror that now rooted him to the spot.

If we can't get out... if I can't fight... then I'm useless. And I'm going to die.

The thought echoed endlessly, each repetition suffocating him more than the last.

The Roof

A voice in Mason's head spoke as if it wasn't his own, and instantly Mason remembered an important secret about his house.

Mason: Claire, I have an idea.

Claire: This isn't the time-

Mason: Just listen to me Claire. Like you said earlier, whoevers attacking us probably has some kind of layout of the whole mansion right. That means that every exit is most likely being guarded right now. Well that doesn't take into account any man made exits that might exist in this mansion, as those wouldn't be on the blueprints right?

Claire: What are you saying?

Mason: You remember when I was fifteen and got busted for sneaking out late at night to catch that movie?

Claire: I fail to see how this is relevant.

Mason: Just... bear with me, alright? You remember how you and Mom spent hours—I mean, hours—watching the surveillance tapes, trying to figure out how I kept sneaking out?

He saw a flicker in Claire's eyes—just a flicker, but enough to make him feel a small victory.

Claire: What are you?-

Mason: Right by the bathroom, there's this spot, completely off the grid. Invisible to the cameras. And... well, let's say—hypothetically—I might've made a few adjustments to the ceiling. Just a little... renovation, you know? If we can reach that spot, it's off the radar. No cameras. No one tracking us. Our visitors here won't know it exists. They'd think we're cornered.

Claire: It seems like that's our only option. Stay behind me and don't make a sound until we get to the roof.

Mason nodded but he glanced over at Thomas who was still lagging behind the other two. It was hard to see through the smoke, but he could tell Thomas had a very serious look on his face, as if he was still shaken up about what had happened earlier. 

The thick, choking smoke clung to them as they ran. Mason's lungs burned with every breath, the acrid air filling his chest, but he pressed on, forcing his legs to move, his mind focused on that one spot—just ahead, the bathroom. 

The exit. Freedom. He could almost see it now, the way out, the hidden route that could save them.

His heart raced, adrenaline spurring him forward, and he was about to quicken his pace, to bolt for the exit—just a few more feet—when suddenly, Claire's hand shot out in front of him, stopping him cold.

Mason froze, nearly stumbling as the weight of her silent command hit him. His breath caught in his throat, his pulse pounding in his ears.

Why now? What's wrong?

He swallowed the questions that bubbled up inside him, his body tense, eyes darting toward Claire, searching her expression for any clue. But her face remained unreadable, sharp and alert, her hand still raised as she scanned their surroundings with cold precision. Something wasn't right.

Mason's stomach twisted as he realized—

Claire: There's enemies in front of us, at least ten, all armed.

Mason: How can you tell?

Claire: I can hear them breathing. 

Mason was creeped out but quickly regained his focus.

Claire: Chances are they're guarding the bathroom because it's one of the only blind spots in the mansion, however, there's also a chance that they've already found the hole.

Mason: What do we do?

Claire: We have very few options right now. Judging from my previous encounter, they all have pretty basic training, however, there's power in numbers. If we were to engage in a full on attack, there's a very small chance we'll all survive. We can't turn around because our enemies are currently chasing us through the smoke and if they have found the hole, chances are reinforcements are on their way. 

Mason: So-

Claire: So we'll need to improvise.