Gabriel pounded up the stairs and into the mansion proper, Mason's booming voice guiding his way. He emerged onto a massive front porch that spanned the entirety of the house, the view in front of him a rough morass of bodies that could only loosely be called a militia, much less an army. The expansive front yard had been cleared of everything, acres of lawn stretching into the distance to where Gabriel could barely see the road.
General Tom was pacing in front of the crowd, shouting orders that were being obeyed barely more than they weren't. Gabriel eyed the man who couldn't have been more than 30 years old with dubious speculation. Don't you have to be in for a long time to make General? He looks like he couldn't have been in more than 10 years, and I'll shit a fucking brick if he didn't get dishonorably discharged. He dropped the line of thinking - he was the last person to judge anyone for taking on a new identity after The System arrived. What mattered was that he was effective. Well, we don't know if he's effective yet. Right now he's just effective at getting the riff raff into line and exterminating anyone who won't.
"Hurry the fuck up!" Mason's voice carried over the crowd, causing yelps of fear. "Don't stand there like idiots, go fucking help them!"
Some of his lieutenants jumped off the porch and hurried into the crowd, forcibly throwing people into groups. Many of the stragglers found themselves on the ground, sporting new bruises.
Gabriel sighed and stepped down himself.
"Where do you think you're going?" Mason's look was suspicious.
Gabriel halted. Does he know? Gabriel had been struggling to find a way to affect his influence on the newcomers. All of this would be for nothing if he couldn't get his tendrils into them. He wanted - no, needed them to do what he wanted, rather than what Mason wanted. He needed them to kill or die for his purposes or he'd get nothing from these living bags of XP. His attempts to influence the lieutenants had been like slamming his head into a brick wall - they were all well and truly under Mason's control, and there was nothing he could do to turn them- so he'd been working another angle. He'd started ministering to the people, even holding nightly sessions they'd begun to call 'church.' He had to tread a fine line of keeping them acting in accordance with Mason's wishes while making them want to do it because he asked it.
"I was just going to help."
"Yeah, I bet you fucking were. Stay here, they got it."
Gabriel sighed and stepped back onto the porch, out of Mason's long reach. Mason forgot about him in short order as the crowd finally settled into a semblance of ranks. Gabriel watched with envy as the crying women were herded away to the large pool house Mason had dubbed his harem. He saw more than a few of the men watching them go with fear in their eyes. Fucking chumps. They should have run, they have no idea what's in store for the women later.
Mason stomped - He always fucking stomps, Gabriel mused - onto the flagstone driveway that separated the house from the grounds, pacing back and forth. A susurration of voices carried his way and he grew impatient.
"Shut it!" His voice silenced most of the voices.
"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" He turned and swung a ham-sized fist at the statue sitting in the middle of a dry water fountain, stone chips exploding as the statue's head was flung into the crowd, knocking one group aside like bowling pins before coming to a stop on top of an unfortunate man.
Now there was silence.
"When I say shut it, I mean shut it!" He looked around, the only sound coming from the man gasping under the statue. Mason walked to him, unhurried, then crushed his skull under his boot.
"Fucking finally," he said. He looked up and faced the horrified crowd with a smile.
"You all saw that announcement. Shit's about to get real out there and we need to be ready. Now, as I see it, we got a couple of things we need to do and we need to do it with a fucking quickness."
"One, we need to whip you pussies into shape. I am Gerard Butler and you are going to be my 300!" He was blind to the confused expressions.
"Second, you all are going to get stronger or die. Sorry folks, but that's the price for joining the strongest army this new world is gonna see. So what we're going to do is ramp up the training and get you all out there. General Tom!"
Tom sprinted to his side, flashing Mason a crisp salute.
I bet he just got rock hard from that, Gabriel thought.
"General, how many people do we have here?"
"287, sir."
"287. Not bad, not bad. And how many are in fighting shape?"
Tom took a moment to consider before answering. "I'd say roughly half. The new recruits just came in this week and haven't started increasing their levels yet."
"Did you already pull out all the ones who ain't fighters?"
"Yes sir, the noncombatants have already been assigned their duties."
"Anyone here you can't stand to lose?"
Tom's eyes narrowed but he knew better than to delay his answer. "Yes sir. We have some good potential leaders and soldiers."
"How many?"
"Maybe, 50 or so - so far."
Mason nodded. "So far, but not yet." He clasped his hands behind his back, pacing in thought before returning the man's steady gaze. Then he addressed the crowd.
"We don't have time for pussies. On the first day of The System I killed like 15 people with my bare fucking hands! So far all I see are a bunch of candy-ass disappointments, mooching off my good will while they lollygag around. So here's what we're going to do."
"General!"
"Yes sir?"
Mason spun, surprised to see that the man was still standing next to him. "You're going to weed out the weak. I don't want my 300 filled with soft assholes who don't know what it's like to get their hands dirty. You take the ones you think have potential and pull them out. The rest of you," his voice rose as he addressed the crowd, "are going to earn your fucking keep!"
There were cries of dismay that were silenced instantly as Mason searched the crowd for who had made them. Unable to catch anyone in the pervasive silence he faced Tom. "No more of this 'one in ten' bullshit. By the end of the week I want one third of this group dead and the rest ready to start training out there." He swung a hand toward the surrounding area.
Cries went out, and this time they didn't go silent quickly enough to be missed by Mason. He stomped forward and grabbed a teenage boy by the hair, dragging him struggling and crying in front of the crowd. He grabbed his head with one massive hand, lifting him in the air like he was palming a basketball.
"I said"
He squeezed.
"I don't want"
The creaking from the boy's skull was audible a few ranks deep, his eyes bulging and filling with blood.
"ANY FUCKING WEAKLINGS!"
With a final squeeze the boy's head exploded in a shower of brain and blood, the body falling to the ground with a wet thump.
The crowd was deathly silent when he turned to face Tom again.
"Get on it, General." Then he turned to stomp back into the house.