Mason's bike roared as he throttled it faster, leaving his lieutenants behind. The tip of his shotgun began to glow with a dangerous, fiery swirl of oranges and reds as he approached the barricade of vehicles parked in front of the apartment complex's parking lot. A resounding BOOM echoed between the buildings and the car in front of Mason practically exploded, hurled away as he flew through the opening. He turned his motorcycle in a tight turn, tires burning smoke into the air as he continued to rotate in a circle. A massive shockwave erupted as he activated Vortex Burnout, hurling the cars in the lot outward like pebbles before a hand grenade, cracking the apartment foundations wherever they hit.
His riders pulled up after him and did a small loop around where he had stopped, their bikes forming a neat circle around Mason. Soon the only sounds were the low potato-potato-potato of their motorcycles echoing off the buildings.
The recently-classed leader of the Enchantresses, Lilith, slid smoothly off the bike just as Mason turned it off and swung his leg over to stand in front of it. He stood there with his hands on his hips and a feral grin on his face. After a moment, he cupped his hands to his mouth and yelled, "WHERE'S MY SHIT?"
There was silence; then suddenly a shot could be heard and a ripple splashed in the air in front of Mason as a bullet pinged off the shield Iron Phalanx had erected. For an instant a light blue dome of shimmering light could be seen, a perfect half-circle that started at each of his lieutenant's bikes and reached its peak directly over Mason. Lilith hissed and a black cloud roiled into existence, filling the dome and obscuring Mason completely.
Viktor whipped a rifle with a too-long barrel out of its holster on the side of his bike, bringing it to his shoulder. His mirrored sunglasses stayed on even as he brought the scope to his eye. There was a retort, a crack, and then a body fell from one of the open windows on the fifth floor.
Blake, Mason's first lieutenant, swiveled neatly off his motorcycle, twin pistols appearing in his hands. He and Viktor swept the buildings in tandem, looking for any glints of weapons peeking through open windows. Blake looked to Viktor, who only gave him a nod. Viktor wasn't much for words but his vision could rival that of an eagle. Once you were in his eyeline, you were done.
Blake turned back to the dome that looked like half of a black marble filled with living smoke. "We're good here, Mason," he said.
The smoke evaporated almost instantly to show Mason standing at ease, legs spread wide and arms crossed over his chest. "Y'all done?" he yelled again. "I won't ask again. WHERE. IS. MY. SHIT?"
Another minute passed, then motion could be seen at the entrances to the three buildings. Doors swung open and men carrying grocery bags and boxes stepped cautiously into the light. None of them moved past the safety of the front doors.
"You going to make me come and get them?" Mason boomed. "Y'all won't like it if I have to do that. Bring the shit here and leave it," he pointed to the pavement in front of them. The bikers watched as people nervously brought the goods to the lot and set them on the pavement. The second they set them down they scurried away to get back inside as quickly as they could.
"WAIT!" They froze at Mason's command and he could swear he saw some of them shaking. Delicious. He motioned to the bear of a man, Rodrick, and the one that looked like a weasel, Elijah. Rodrick grabbed his barbed-wire-wrapped bat while Elijah just ran his fingers over the bandolier of throwing knives that crossed his chest. They flanked Mason as he walked out to inspect the goods. None of the residents moved as Mason kicked some of the boxes over and opened the bags with the tip of his finger, face a mask of disgust.
His head snapped up and anger started pulsing in his eyes. "What the shit is this?" he asked, kicking one of the cans into the back of some frat boy douche that still hadn't turned around. The kid huffed out an amusing wince of pain then fell to his knees. "Everyone! Get your asses over here," Mason called out. When no one moved he picked up another can and hurled it into some geezer's back. "That wasn't a fucking request!"
They all turned and trudged to him, heads hung low. He smiled to himself with savage satisfaction. THIS was power. These assholes outnumbered his men three to one, but not one of them had the balls to do anything. Even that pussy that took a shot at him did it from a distance, instead of to his face like a real man. When they were all lined up in front of him he glared at each, none of them looking up to meet his eyes. "I asked a question. Are you all fucking with me right now?"
When no one answered a glint flashed through the air and the douche frat boy cried out again, falling backward and gripping his thigh where the knife was sticking out. Some fat fuck Midwestern dad-bod in cargo shorts took a nervous step forward and looked up at Mason. "Wh-what's wrong?" he stuttered.
Mason advanced, his imposing figure casting a long shadow over the trembling man, whose eyes barely flickered up before fixing on Mason's weather-beaten boots. "Last time I was here," Mason growled, his voice a low rumble, "I told y'all to gather enough food to keep us away for a month. Does this," he gestured with contempt at the meager assortment of cans and boxes, "look like it would last my men a fucking month?"
"That's all we have," the man said.
"ALL you have?" Mason replied. "That's ALL you have?"
The man was visibly sweating now. "I mean, it's all we can spare. That's half of everything we have left.
Mason sighed and backed up a step, looking over the line of people. "I didn't ask for what you could spare, I said to bring me a month's worth of fucking food!"
"But all the grocery stores have already been cleared out, and none of us have enough levels to go hunting for food. You guys have already cleared out all the monsters around here, so we can't even level." The man may have been too dumb to know what was good for him, but at least he was brave, Mason thought. Dumb, but brave.
Mason put a huge hand on the man's shoulder, the man dropping slightly and wincing. "The way I see it," Mason called out loudly, "we got two problems here. First off, y'all seemed to have forgotten who is fucking in charge around here. When I say to get a month's worth of food for me and my men you get a fucking month's worth of food! I don't care how you do it, you fucking do it!"
The man was shivering under Mason's grip. Mason pulled his hand away and turned to walk a few steps towards the bike before turning around again. "Viktor," he said, and Viktor turned his way. "Where did that shot come from earlier?"
Viktor pointed at the middle of the three apartment buildings. Mason nodded.
"The second problem, as I see it," he said, "is that we got too many mouths to feed around here." He looked at his men and nodded towards the building Viktor had identified. "Clear the building, boys. Clear the whole fucking thing. Time to level up!"
The people in the parking lot began screaming and running as his lieutenants ran to the building, the Enchantresses howling in savage glee as they streamed behind them. Screams, shots, and the sounds of magic could be heard as the cacophony moved from floor to floor. Occasionally a window would break or a body would come flying out as the slaughter continued relentlessly. Mason threw his head back with a deep belly laugh as small amounts of experience siphoned into him from each of their kills. This was the fucking life! Men loyal to him, sheep standing by to be culled, and power free for the taking. His laughing was interrupted by the sound of a whimper and he saw the frat boy trying to hobble away, his awkward hopping making Mason laugh even harder. He walked casually back to his bike and pulled the ax he'd gotten at the Clubhouse from its holster.
"Where the fuck you think you're going?" he laughed again.
The young man looked back over his shoulder, eyes wide in panic as he tried to hop faster. Mason only laughed harder as he caught up to the man. "That leg looks like it hurts. Let me help!" He swung the ax in a horizontal arc and the man's leg flew to the far side of the parking lot as he collapsed, not even crying out in pain yet. Those cries started the second he hit the ground, though, and the man rolled to his back, holding the top half of his thigh, the stump pumping hot blood onto the pavement.
Mason stood and watched, still amazed at his strength. He'd reached the cap of human strength until he hit level 10, and he knew he was probably the strongest man that had ever lived. Even Olympic power lifters couldn't compete with him now. He reveled in his power as he stepped closer, looking down into the man's eyes.
"You know what you look like right now?" Mason said to him.
The man didn't respond, his eyes showing more white than color in his blanched face.
"You look like a fucking sheep." Mason said, just before his boot came down on the punk's head.