The Legion: Heartson

Mason: That's it! I can't... I can't take this anymore!

The words ripped from Mason's throat before he even realized what he was saying. His legs moved before his mind could stop them, his body surging out of the smoke, blind to reason. 

The fear, the pressure—it had all boiled over, crashing through him in waves, leaving him raw and reckless. The danger, the suffocating weight of it all, crushed him. He didn't care anymore. He just needed it to stop.

His hands shot up in front of him as he stumbled into the open, eyes wide with terror as the figures raised their guns. He dropped to his knees, the cold, hard ground biting into him, but it barely registered over the panic.

Mason: Do whatever you want. Just—please—don't kill me.

The attackers didn't speak. Their silence was more terrifying than any threat. A towering figure, swords strapped to his back, approached swiftly, his heavy steps sending tremors through the floor. Mason barely felt the man's hands as they roughly pinned him down, searching his body for any sign of a weapon. 

The man seemed satisfied, loosening his hold just enough to shift his focus. His voice crackled through the comms.

Armored Man: We've got him. The Death Astral—secured, lower left wing—

But his words were sliced through by a blood-curdling scream. The armored man's head snapped toward the noise, his body tensing as his gaze landed on the carnage behind him.

Two of his soldiers—laying in pools of their own blood. Their bodies were twisted, shredded by deep gashes, and above them stood Claire. Her once calm, professional demeanor was gone, replaced by something far more sinister. Her lips curled into a grin as she slowly raised her blood-covered hand, letting the crimson drip between her fingers.

The armored man's voice faltered, his hand instinctively tightening on Mason's arm, but he didn't speak. He couldn't. All he could do was stare.

Claire: Hey!

The other men all turned around, focusing their guns on Claire instead of Mason, which finally gave Thomas his signal.

Thomas dashed through the smoke with blinding speed, slamming into the man who had pinned Mason down, and helping Mason to his feet. 

The soldiers became indecisive, unsure if they should focus on taking care of Claire, or retrieving Mason. 

Claire helped them make up their decision as she reached into the belt of one of the soldiers she had taken out, and pulled out a number of smoke grenades, firing them all over the place. The smoke covered the entire hallway, and chaos quickly ensued. 

Gun fire rang out but none of the soldiers could seem to hit their mark. Mason and Thomas attempted to run past the soldiers to meet with Claire but Mason's leg was caught by a soldier who had fallen to the floor. 

Claire cut through two more soldiers as if the smoke didn't affect her vision at all but she became worried when she couldn't find Thomas or Mason. She decided to abandon caution and ran back to where they were attempting to save them, but she was grabbed by strong hands and slammed against the wall.

Mason fought desperately to take the hands off his ankle but whoever had grabbed him had a strong grip. he heard more footsteps coming towards him through the smoke and he fought harder to get the hands off him. Suddenly, there was a sharp sound through the air, and the grip on his ankle slackened. 

Thomas: Sorry, I didn't know what else to do.

Mason struggled to see through the smoke but noticed what seemed to be a sword in Thomas' hand. Looking down, he saw the severed hand of his attacker laying near his foot. Nausea spread through his body but he recovered quickly, focusing on escaping. 

Mason and Thomas pushed forward, eyes burning from the smoke that still lingered, but the path ahead was finally starting to clear. And then, through the haze, they spotted her.

Claire was down, struggling beneath the crushing weight of the situation. But it wasn't from exhaustion or weakness—she'd been blindsided. Three attackers had surrounded her before she could react, their strikes raining down in an unrelenting barrage. 

Her usual grace was nowhere to be seen, caught off guard by their numbers. She had dropped her sword, the steel lying useless on the floor several feet away, and now she was defending herself with nothing but her bare hands, desperately trying to block punches and kicks. But it was clear, even to Mason, that she was cornered.

Before she could find an opening, a larger man stepped forward, his brutish form towering over her. He grabbed her by the throat, lifting her with one hand as though she weighed nothing. Claire's feet kicked uselessly beneath her as she struggled for air, her eyes narrowing in defiance, even as she gasped.

The large man turned to Mason and Thomas, his voice a low growl.

Large Man: Surrender, and we'll let you and the girl walk away. Reinforcements are closing in as we speak, and we've covered every exit. You're cornered. 

Mason froze. His mind raced, trapped in a whirlwind of indecision. If he tried to save her now, they'd kill her instantly. But if he surrendered... maybe they'd let her go. Maybe, just maybe, it would buy her time. His hands trembled, his breath shallow. What could he do?

Surely it'd be okay if he took it easy. 

Better than throwing his life away.

And then, the other voice came, sharp and cutting, like a knife to his thoughts.

That's just pathetic.

Mason's jaw clenched, anger bubbling up, mixing with the fear that had paralyzed him moments ago.

You're over here thinking of surrendering? She's dying because you're weak.

The words hit him like a punch to the gut, the cruel tone echoing in his mind. His fists tightened, his vision narrowing on the large man choking Claire. His chest burned, not from the smoke, but from the raw fury now boiling inside him.

Shut up. Shut up. I'm not—

What? You're not what? Weak? A coward? Then do something.

Mason's heart pounded in his chest. His breath quickened, rage surging through his veins, drowning out the fear.

I can't just stand here. I can't let her die because I hesitated.

He stared right into Claire's eyes and saw, maybe for the first time, her true emotions. It was as if she was saying, "don't help me, run you fool." Even now, on the verge of death, Claire was focused on protecting him. With that in mind, how could he possibly afford to stand around and be useless.

Mason raised his hands and closed his eyes. He didn't understand what he was doing, but he let his body take over his actions, completely shutting off his brain. He opened his eyes, which were now a deep shade of obsidian, and at once, he felt a horrible burning sensation in his legs, as black flames sparked. 

He kicked off with his legs on fire, and launched with inhuman speed at Claire's attackers, flames now appearing on his hands. With all the force and energy he could muster, he slammed his fist into the man who was choking Claire, and the man crumbled to the ground, rendered unconscious. 

Mason fell to the ground, completely unsure of what had just happened, and cradled his arm which was in extreme pain. The flame extinguished just as fast as it had appeared. 

Claire helped Mason to his feet, but before she could ask any questions, the other two attackers came forward, each one holding two swords. Mason didn't have enough strength or energy left to defend himself, and braced for the attacker's impacts, but the sword strikes never came. 

Thomas quickly put himself in between Mason and the attackers, holding the sword he had taken in front of him, and parrying the attack. Thomas gracefully dodged a sword swing from the second attacker and rolled out of the way of the first attacker, stabbing at his ankles in the same motion. 

Getting back on his feet, he ducked under another swing from the second attacker and cut a clean gash through his back, making sure not to hit any vital spots. The first attacker got back to his feet, attempting to stab Thomas again, but Thomas jumped quickly and masterfully kicked the man in the face, rendering him unconscious.

Mason: What the hell was that!

Mason: I thought you said you were a detective. Where did you learn all that from?

Thomas looked away from Mason and stared at Claire who was looking back at him with both amazement and curiosity. Thomas's face grew grim as he turned and looked down to the ground.

Mason could tell just from Thomas's face that he should drop the subject immediately, so he instead focused on the plan. 

Mason: The bathroom should be just up ahead. I'll need you guys to buy me some time while I open the entrance to the roof.

Claire rubbed at her neck and wiped some blood from her nose and mouth.

Claire: There's still two attackers in the smoke, although one is injured. I hear at least ten or so men approaching us. We have maybe fifteen seconds until they reach us. 

Mason: So in other words, I have fifteen seconds. 

Claire nodded and picked up her sword from the ground. 

Thomas and Claire stood outside the bathroom waiting for Mason to give the signal that he had opened up the entrance. Thomas looked over at Claire and noticed worry lines growing on her face.

Thomas: What's wrong?

Claire: They're faster than I thought.

Before Thomas could ask what she meant, he heard the footsteps through the smoke and saw a group of armored soldiers with swords appear in front of them. 

Thomas and Claire moved in sync, swords raised as they engaged the wave of enemies pouring through the smoke. Together, they moved like a well-oiled machine, pushing back the tide.

But more kept coming. No matter how many they took down, the soldiers kept piling in, the smoke thickening, making it harder to see—harder to breathe. Claire's movements remained fluid, even as fatigue began to creep into her limbs.

A soldier lunged at her, coming dangerously close. She reacted on instinct, driving her sword into his chest. He staggered back, gasping, and Claire prepared to deliver the finishing blow—her sword already raised to decapitate him. But before she could swing, a sudden clash of steel stopped her blade mid-air.

Thomas had blocked her strike, his own sword catching hers.

Claire: What are you doing?

Her voice was sharp, disbelief flickering in her eyes as she glared at him. But Thomas didn't flinch, his gaze stormy, resolute.

Thomas: No more killing.

Claire's jaw tightened, the anger bubbling inside her. There was no time to argue—more soldiers rushed at her, and she was forced to pull back, deflecting another attack, her frustration simmering just beneath the surface.

She didn't have the luxury of questions. Not now. She slashed at the enemies once more, her mind racing. 

The battle raged on, the seconds dragging like hours. But then—

Mason: I finished the opening! We need to go. Now!

Relief surged through Claire. She leaped back from the enemies, Thomas right beside her, and they sprinted toward Mason. The trio climbed through the opening Mason had created in the ceiling, one by one, and finally—finally—they pulled themselves onto the roof, gasping for air, the cool night breeze a sharp contrast to the suffocating smoke below.

But their relief was short-lived.

As their eyes adjusted, they froze. The scene that greeted them sent a chill down their spines.

An army.

Spanning the entire manor, surrounding them like an endless tide. The soldiers were armed with everything from guns to swords, their faces obscured by masks and sleek armor. There was no escape.

Claire took a deep breath and smiled, raising her swords as she prepared herself to fight through the hell that surrounded them.