The Bloodforged Kin

Chapter 204 - 198: Mason - Battle Report

"So, how'd they do?" Mason jumped off his chair like an excited child, rushing to meet General Tom.

"Sir!" Tom snapped a smart salute and Mason laughed, batting his hand down.

"Stop that bullshit - how'd they do? Did they kick serious ass?"

"I have debriefed the platoon leaders and have a full report ready, sir. Do you want to do it here?"

Mason laughed again and slapped him on the back, knocking the thin man a few steps forward. "Nah, let's grab some beers and you can tell me all about it! Can't wait to hear how those fuckers did!"

Tom followed Mason into a lavish dining room, hoping Mason's good mood wasn't about to be spoiled.

Over the next 30 minutes Tom related the events of each person and pair in cold detail, leaving nothing out, sugar-coating nothing. Mason's expressions changed as each group was discussed, sometimes angry, sometimes confused, and finally, proud.

"Okay, so first off," Mason started when Tom was finished, "Rodrick and Ravena can walk their asses back and get their bike. No elites of mine are going to abandon their bikes. That's not Spartan shit at all. Didn't they have a saying about that or something?"

"With your shield, or on it," Tom said. Mason looked at him in confusion so Tom explained. "The Spartans carried large shields - too big to run with. If someone came back without their shield it meant that they were cowards who had dropped their shield when they ran. If a Spartan died in battle their body was carried back on their shield. So 'with your shield or on it' was basically them saying 'come back holding your shield, or die and be carried back.' There was no room for cowards in the Spartan army."

"Yes!" Mason slammed his hand down on the solid mahogany table, causing the heavy table to jump. "That's the shit I'm talking about! They left their bike because they were fucking cowards - they can go back and get them themselves."

"Understood, sir. Should I send a squad to protect them?"

"Fuck that noise! Fuck no!" He considered for a moment, then added, "Okay, send one squad - but they're only there if some shit goes down. Make those two fight their way through whatever comes for them, but don't help too much. They need to learn their lesson."

"Understood, sir."

"Now, tell me about this Craig guy again."

Tom recounted the story with Elijah again and how they'd managed to save him.

"Well fuck me, that's the shit I'm talking about! Give him some sort of commendation or medal or something, I want him rewarded."

Tom knew better than to ask about the men that had been sacrificed.

"Go over Jonas again, I like what he did."

Tom nodded and told the story of Jonas's fight on the golf course, how he single-handedly fended off anything that came at him. Mason slammed the table again and leaned back in his chair, shouting over his shoulder.

"BLAKE! JONAS! GET YOUR ASSES IN HERE!"

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The two men jogged into the room soon after, looking at the beers on the table with a hopeful expression.

"Yeah?" Blake asked.

"The general here was telling me about your night and how everything went down. I think it calls for a change in command. Jonas, you're the First Lieutenant now. You're in charge of the rest and the Enchantresses. Whatever perks Blake had are yours now."

Blake's face turned red and he opened his mouth to speak, but a dangerous glare from Mason shut it before he could say anything he'd regret. For his part, Jonas only nodded once.

"Alright, get out of here you assholes. Great job tonight, Jonas. Oh, and tell Rodrick and Ravena to put on some comfy shoes, they got some walkin' ahead of them tomorrow." He laughed at his own joke while Tom waited patiently.

When Mason's humor was spent he fixed Tom with a steady stare. "Okay, you've seen what they can do - and what they can't. What's your assessment?"

Tom took a deep breath. He knew this was coming and had prepared his response in the way he thought Mason would take the best.

"They're all strong, but they lack strategy or battle intelligence. Individually they're a match for just about anyone in your army, save for a few of the strongest, but they don't know how to use it. They're reactive, don't listen to orders, and can't adapt to a situation that grows beyond their capabilities. I paired them up based on their skill sets, overlapping their powers in a way that would make them stronger together, but it was… ineffectual. It isn't that they can't do it, they just won't."

He expected a blow-up or tantrum but Mason only sighed. "Yeah, that's about what I thought. I've coddled them, maybe too much, and they're all lone wolves. I'm the alpha but they still act like they are when they're out fighting. The only real threats they've ever faced were a bunch of meat bags." Tom waited patiently for Mason to finish his line of thought. After thinking for a few seconds - the limit of his ability to do so - Mason addressed Tom again.

"So, what should we do with them then?"

This, at least, was something that should make Mason happy. "Well, sir, I don't think it'll be good to pair them with the army. The army operates off of a strict hierarchy and discipline, following orders without question. That's not a good fit for your team. Instead, I think they should be their own elite squad. They know how to work together, they have a strong camaraderie, and they have group skills that they weren't able to employ since they weren't teamed up together. In short, I think they should be an elite squad that fights together on their motorcycles. Send them out against small groups, or powerful individual creatures, and let the troops handle the smaller ones. Your team is not equipped for crowd control or large-scale combat, but they're perfect for causing serious damage to the really strong ones."

Mason's slow grin showed too many teeth. "Now that, my man, is a fucking plan! That's what we're going to do! The analysts think that the big, bad monsters are coming in the next day or two. Tomorrow I want you working with them to teach them some small group tactics, or whatever it's called. Get them ready for the boss monsters."

"Sir." Tom nodded.

"Oh, and let's give them a cool name. Let's call them Mason's Elites - Oh! No wait, use our old gang name. Call them The Hellbound!!"

Tom sighed internally but kept his face expressionless. "Yes sir, that's a good idea sir."

"Good!" Mason slapped the table again, sending beer bottles jumping and rolling across its surface. "Finish your beer - hell, finish a whole case! I got the brewers working overtime anyway. Then take a trip to the harem - you've earned it! When the big guys come, I want to be there with you to watch how they fight. Maybe having me there will light a fire under their asses."

"Understood, sir. I'll get it taken care of."

"I know you will, General, I know you will."

Tom nursed his now-warm beer as he thought, tactics and plans running through his head. He left the last swig in the bottle, uninterested in finishing it. He stood and stretched before deciding what he'd do tonight. He was tired and could use some rest and wasn't sure if he wanted to visit the harem. The women there served a purpose, but overall the experience was droll and lacking anything that fulfilled him. He knew others got excited about sex, but the dead-eyed expressions of the women and general messiness of the whole process left him feeling like it was a waste of time more often than not.

Still, though, there was something to be said about starting the day with a clear head. He turned and walked towards the back yard, making his way through the snow to the pool house where women who had long since forgotten how to cry awaited him.