Swamp Kings 1 (Bayou Bishops #18)

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Spar sat in the crowded Basilique room, sandwiched between Hurricane and Bart, trying to focus on the serious business before them. They had more bodies than usual. Eveque asked that the second in commands attended, so every leader there represented two bodies, which included the Creole King’s Verthurs. Three tables sat in the center of the room connected like cars on a train, each occupying the Kings of the swamps and their leaders. The rest sat in chairs lining the walls all around.

The room buzzed with an undercurrent of tension. The weight of everything that happened with Kaphas and Quantum the day before—and what was looming—sat right on their heads. But the Northern Creole men and these Quantum Kings brought a distinct flavor of brotherhood that got mixed with their own coonass concoction. Like a Cajun superglue filling the cracks popping up all around them, making everything sah-say-bon.

Bart slid him a stack of papers. “Take one and pass it down, dear brother.”

Spar took the top one and handed the stack to Hurricane. “Take one and pass it down.”

“Yes sir,” he said, as Spar eyed the sheet filled with an outline for the meeting updates. Thank fuck because all the details were an angry hornet’s nest, swarming in his head.

Spar leaned and muttered to Bart, “Great fucking job. Glad you’re on the team.”

“Wouldn’t miss a single second,” he said, grinning at him as he cocked back in his seat.

The murmur in the room died down as Bishop stood at the head of the table. “Meeting’s beginning. The list in front of you details all the updates, broken up into regions within our swamp. The North Swamp is our Creole King brothers. The South Swamp is the Marsh Kings as we are referred, and the East Swamp is being designated to the Quantum Kings. Kaj is currently organizing the Vickis and when he’s done, we’ll need to have a final meeting that decides a firm plan with them in relation to us.”

He paused a second, staring at the sheet before setting it down. He looked up, his eyes moving over all the men before him. “Looks like this war is bringing things we’ve never had to deal with before. New laws and plans of actions will no doubt be required. The way I see it, we got three Swamp Leaders. Myself over the South Swamps, King Nidev over the North, and Quantum King over the East. ”

He lifted the paper again and read it for a few seconds. “I’ll give our updates and take any questions, then hand the floor over to King Nidev.” He set the paper down. “I’ll start with the chaos immediately outside these swamps. I can easily say I have never seen anything spiral as fast as this has. Not even Hurricane Katrina’s aftermath can compare. Every city within a two-hundred-mile radius is facing widespread riots, the rise of factions, and environmental hazards.” He looked at all of them, his shock evident. “It’s a refugee nightmare out there. People are displaced and stranded. Communication breakdowns at every level, emergency services maxed out or non-existent in some areas.”

He paused with the weight of it clearly pressing on his shoulders. “Brothers….” he began his voice weighed down with warning. “I fear the puppets have cut their strings, and this hurricane of mayhem will be writing the future.”

Even knowing all this shit beforehand, hearing his Eveque say it like that, put an ominous crackle in the air.

“We cannot. We cannot,” he stressed, “afford to let our guard down here. The chaos outside will only get worse before it gets better—if it ever does.” He pointed at the wall on his right. “Those factions rising out there? Some are just desperate people trying to survive, but others are organized. Dangerous. They’ll have no qualms about tearing down whatever’s left of civilization to gain power. We all know how quickly lawlessness can spread, and it’s only a matter of time before they start pushing into our territories. Which means our security measures are non—negotiable.”

He began ticking off items. “We’ve increased patrols. Fortified key entry points. Implemented stricter screening processes for anyone trying to get in. Those who do make it through our barriers and prove they’re not a threat—we offer them a choice: they can stay and contribute, or we give them supplies and send them on their way. But we cannot and will not risk the safety of our people by allowing anyone in unchecked.”

Bishop’s gaze swept the room again. “We’ve got teams monitoring these situations as closely as they can, but we need to be prepared for the worst. Making damn sure our water sources are secure, our food supplies are uncontaminated, and that we have contingencies in place if we need to move people to safer ground.”

He crossed his arms now. “We need to talk reconnaissance. We’re gonna need eyes and ears out there. Particularly intel on these factions, on potential allies, and anything that could give us an edge. I’m proposing we put together a six-man team for this. I nominate the triplets, Kaphas, Seer, and Zodak. They’ll be our first line of defense in gathering vital information and staying ahead of whatever’s coming. We cannot afford to be caught off guard.”

Bishop snatched up his paper, reading again. “Yeah,” he nodded, tossing the list back on the table. “All the data still points to this being a systematic takedown. Coordinated. Deliberate. And executed with a very disturbing precision. Whoever’s behind this knows exactly what they’re doing, and they’re doing it with ruthless efficiency. Why are they doing this? We’re digging with all hands and feet to learn that still.”

He raised a finger. “Final thing,” he said, looking around. “We need to ensure that everyone—soldiers and civilians alike—are prepared for whatever the hell is coming. Ongoing training, emergency drills, self-defense education—whatever it takes to make sure that if the time comes, they’re ready to respond quickly and effectively.” He nodded at The Revelator, seated on his left. “I believe Seer was a hundred percent right when he said God provided us with these new brothers because what’s coming requires things we don’t have. But for the full-blooded humans in this room?” He scanned them all real good. “Any kind of weakness? We need to strengthen it. And I don’t just mean physical strength, I mean all the things that make you a man, make you a husband, a father, brother, uncle, or cousin. If you’ve got any problem, fix it. You need help, throw your pride in the fucking marsh and ask for it, beg, grovel, whatever you gotta do, do it.”

His hard gaze made a pressing pass before he shifted gears. “Now my wife, she’s a few steps ahead of us on probably the most critical thing—our marital bonds. She’s putting together training that will give us the knowledge and power to create what’s needed or build on what’s already there. As soon as I have that, so will you. And to be sure, these classes will be mandatory for all who are in a relationship with a woman.” His gaze hit like a gavel on his men especially before he announced, “That’s it for me. Any questions or suggestions?”

Spar was suddenly torn between envy and joy over having no wife. As for questions, he had plenty, and most would hopefully get answered by whoever was going to update for Quantum King. He assumed Dr. Harlow.

After a few seconds of looking for hands, Bishop gave the floor to Nidev who sat at the head of the end table, opposite Bishop. He gave a single nod. “Good evening gentlemen,” he began, his deep voice and sophisticated dialect cutting the air. Spar searched his brain for his details. From… Vienna Austria. No, Mongolia. With the badass Genghis Khan. Educated from the age of nine in Vienna, something related to his gifts. Hence the manicured words delivered through battering ram vocals .

“I’ll make this quick,” the King said. “Our position in the North Swamps remains secure. We’ve enhanced the concealment of our entrances. Supplies are ample. Our farms are thriving. Our defenses are fortified. We’ve always prepared for the worst, and that preparation is serving us well. We’ve adjusted training schedules with the students, focusing on survival skills, combat readiness, and strategic thinking. Their academic studies remain important, but we’ve placed a stronger emphasis on practical applications that will be essential in the coming months. Morale remains high, but we’re keeping a close watch on any signs of stress or fear. Intelligence networks are functioning effectively. Reports are received regularly from strategic posts and shared with our Marsh Kings.”

He paused briefly, and Spar realized King Nidev had not once looked at a list. “I agree with all that the Marsh King has spoken, including his selection for the recon team and his mandatory marital classes.” He turned and gestured to Harlow. “After Dr. Harlow delivers his portion of the update, I’ll be making one final announcement.” He turned to Bishop now. “It will require Maggie, King Spook’s wife.”

Spar pushed down his laughter at the King Spook bit, finding his brothers also holding back snickers. Wonder what Ole Nidev was bringing to the table. Another coin? He hoped and yet hoped not. Spar eyed the other Creole Kings for signs of what this announcement might be, finding their usual killer poker faces.

Harlow stood up from his spot at the middle table and headed to the far end of the room. “Just want to make sure everybody can see me, and I can see them. Now, for some fun stuff,” he said, shoving up the sleeves of his black fitted shirt. Out of the new ones, he ranked second on Spar’s list. The Kult dude took first place. For now. That could change as he got to know them more. These two were clear leaders. As was Handy.

“Please forgive me ahead of time if I’m not as quick as our two esteemed Kings here. Especially King Nidev. Quantum would’ve been impressed but since he’s not here, I’m impressed for him.” He gave a single clap and glanced around. “I know everybody is ready to learn about our soldiers, but before that, an update on Quantum’s status. He’s still in recovery, and we expect him to wake up around midnight tonight at which point I’ll run a full set of diagnostics. Once he’s fully back online, we’ll begin creating soldiers, thanks to the Creole Kings Delta Nexus Core energy source which is basically a big ass battery the size of your empire state building—metaphorically speaking.”

The unsuspecting genius copped a wide stance and crossed his arms. “So, to make this simple to understand, I’m gonna use our adorable triplets here, Fetch, Fathom and Fin to explain the soldier creating process. Basically, there’s two steps in making a soldier.” He held up a thumb. “One is obtaining a mind to control the soldier, and the second,” he said with his pointer finger, “is using that mind to define how that soldier’s body is built. All credit for that goes to the Neuromancer, or our Advanced Mechanical Module that Quantum designed. You feed the data or the mind’s data into it and it builds the body so that it aligns with the strengths embedded in that mind’s data.”

Bishop raised his hand and Harlow pointed at him. “And how do you get this mind?” he asked.

“In the case of the triplets, Quantum’s AI mapped Kult’s brain and identified the region that had developed cognitive control over his body. He then copied the neural data using a process of quantum replication, which produces a mirror image. We then short-circuited the actual neural pathways and returned full cognitive control to Kult while retaining the replica of the triplets.”

All eyes followed his slow stroll at the head of the room. “Once we had that, we input this collected neural data into the Neuromancer. It read the data and determined what sort of body would best serve the mind, then entered an error state, requesting more bio-material. How much more material? Two bodies more. Because the machine identified the data as three distinct and separate entities. So, we fed it more material, and it produced three distinct soldiers. Fetch’s body was crafted to support his ability to gather information, Fathom’s was tailored for his deep processing and understanding capabilities, and Fin’s was built to bring solutions to fruition.” He used both hands to present the triplets at their table. “Fetch, Fathom, and Fin—each uniquely designed to embody the distinct problem-solving functions of Kult’s mind.”

Spar was sure he wasn’t the only one dying to know what the fuck kind of trauma happened to the dude to bring about such a thing. He added it to the growing list of need-to-knows.

“Now, once our puzzle soldiers were created, they immediately began fulfilling the obedience protocol hardwired into them, which is find their human link and begin the process of evolving.”

“Are they angels?” Spook asked, getting all eyes on him. “Maggie wanted to know.”

Harlow considered then gave a big shrug. “That’s beyond my intellectual jurisdiction, brother.”

“We are spirit,” the triplets said in that freaky unison.

This seemed to surprise and impress Harlow. “There you have it. Not sure if that qualifies as angels, but they do make straight A’s in everything, including conduct. Unless you’re on the wrong side of their directive. Then you’ll know the force of their loyalty down to the molecules in every hair on your head.” Harlow gave a giddy chuckle. “You guys have any advice to our brothers here?” he asked the triplets.

Everybody waited before the first triplet muttered, “Play nice.”

8-Bit raised his hand and Harlow pointed at him. “What you got?”

“Was wondering exactly how long it takes to create a soldier?”

“From the genetic blueprint to a fully functional soldier ready for deployment, twenty-four to forty-eight hours.” Harlow nodded at the astonished round of holy-fuck expressions. “So, with our four machines, we’re looking at twelve soldiers within seven days.”

8-Bit wondered, “How exactly does this evolution into humanity happen?”

Perfect. It had to be the Twelve’s hottest topic.

Harlow began to slowly pace as he locked his gaze on 8-Bit. “What we’re dealing with here is a form of epigenetic activation. Essentially, specific genes within the soldier’s DNA are kept inactive or ‘dormant’ by default, much like how certain traits in humans might not express themselves unless triggered by environmental factors.

“When these soldiers are exposed to particular stimuli—let’s say, pheromones or specific biochemical signals associated with a female—the epigenetic framework kicks in. This framework functions similarly to a biological clock or switch, activating these dormant genes, allowing the soldiers to form connections on a physiological level. However, it’s the act of sexual climax that solidifies this process. The neurochemical surge associated with orgasm—particularly the release of oxytocin and other bonding hormones—induces lasting changes in the brain’s neural pathways, effectively ‘writing’ this connection into their neural circuitry. Think of it as imprinting: the DNA is primed, and the orgasm locks in the imprint, ensuring the connection is deep and enduring.”

“Wow, so, they can experience… arousal?” Zep asked.

“Yes, their systems mimic human physiology, including sexual response. The neural pathways for arousal are fully functional, and their enhanced abilities could amplify these experiences, making them more intense or unique.”

“Damn, bruh,” Hurricane muttered, sounding envious.

“But they need a woman to activate that?” 8-Bit confirmed.

“Yes. There has to be an encounter. The process is akin to a biological male and female interaction. When they meet a woman who expresses interest, their body is designed to respond to those cues and initiate the physiological processes necessary for arousal and connection.”

“Just any woman?” Traps balked.

“Hell no,” Harlow assured. “The minds we obtain have particularities and tastes. Fetch, Fathom and Fin are drawn to humans with morbid pasts because their forte is dismantling those evils. They have the ability to choose a woman, and once they do, the evolution begins. Elevated levels of oxytocin—which we call the bonding hormone—activate the soldiers transformation. It starts with their emotions; they begin to feel more. Things like empathy, compassion, and even love. Their cognitive processes start to shift as well, becoming less like a machine and more like a person, with all the complexity that entails.”

“Any physical changes?” Patches wondered.

“Absolutely. Their bodies adjust, becoming more human in nature. They might not be as indestructible, but they gain something far more valuable: the ability to truly connect with others, to think independently, and to make decisions based on their own moral compass, not just programming. None of it is instant. They evolve, much like the rest of us. Through time and experiences.”

“Now… what about the women?” Lesion asked. “There’s rumors spreading about the triplet’s wives behaving strangely. ”

“Not to mention what happened with Kaphas’ wife,” Bullets reminded, or accused.

Harlow held up a hand. “That one is a phenomenon we didn’t anticipate. The hard-wired directive in each soldier to defend their link manifested in coitus and passed a portion of their powers to the wives. We do hope this becomes a trend in future soldiers since this protects their link even when the soldier isn’t there, but we’re not sure it will.

“Now, in regard to Kaphas’ situation, there’s a dozen reasons why his is the exception, and it begins and ends with Handy hi-jacking Quantum’s AI and creating his own soldier.”

“Yeah, I heard about that,” 8-Bit said. “And it’s been nagging me how he could possibly do that without having a body.”

Harlow gave him a look of exasperation. “Let me try and summarize the shit-show of our past life. So, Kult, Atlas, Pain, me, Augustine and Sync—aka the meaning of the acronym K-A-P-H-A-S were part of a secret governmental weapons program. Endeavoring to make a super soldier, they found five individuals with extraordinary gifts and placed them into a man with the ability to split his mind at will. His name is Augustine and you’ll be meeting him when he arrives next week with his wife. But, the brother that unintentionally created Handy was Sync,” he said, gesturing at his table .

The blond looking savior of the world offered a salute.

“Sync’s gift was being able to synchronize bio-energies. It was his power that enabled all our gifts to work together. But, we were prisoners and we decided to break out. That required us to wipe our memories in order to remain hidden from those running the program. Dr. David, I believe most here have met him, helped us escape by leaving a piece of Sync in us so that later, he could track us down and return us to our forgotten escape plans and physical bodies waiting for us in cryonics. Frozen, for those who aren’t familiar with the term.”

“And it worked,” 8-Bit said, amazed with the rest of them.

“It did. For four years we roamed around in Augustine’s body, lost as could be but invisible to our enemies.”

“Five men in a body with no memory,” King Rukem marveled.

“No memory,” Harlow swore. “We knew we were five men in a single vessel but had no idea how we were that or why. It was during this time that the piece of Sync in our right hand bonded with all of us, creating an entirely new personality. Handy.”

“Because he was in the hand ,” 8-Bit realized, getting Harlow’s nods again.

“I was diagnosed with Alien Hand Syndrome because I knew there was something wrong with our hand, I knew it wasn’t ours. They thought I was crazy for wanting to cut if off.”

“You were crazy for wanting to cut it off,” Pain assured.

“But I wasn’t crazy,” Harlow begged to differ. “I even created prosthetic limbs to replace it with once I removed it. Anyway, Sync found us and connected us back with all our memories.”

“And you returned to your bodies, so… what happened to Handy?” 8-Bit wondered.

“We actually don’t know what happened to him between then and his reappearance. We thought he was just gone since all his pieces left the building.”

“That’s what baffles me,” 8-Bit said. “How could Handy hi-jack Quantum, especially with no body?”

“Has anybody asked him?” Bishop wondered. “I’d imagine he knows exactly how he did it and he’s sitting right there.”

Handy chuckled now, pointing at Bishop. “And they say common sense doesn’t exist with geniuses.”

Harlow propped hands on his hip, leveling a pissed look at him. “Maybe if we weren’t putting out all the fires you set and bringing you back to life every day, then moving our entire existence to the swamp I might have thought to ask you. But then why would I? The shit’s been shit and smeared to kingdom come. But…” He shot both hands at him. “Do tell the au dience how you manage to wreck everybody’s lives, hi-jack Quantum while floating about in the nether and create your very own body all by yourself.”

“So glad you finally found the time to ask, brother ,” Handy said, his enthusiasm darkening the murder shade on Harlow’s face. “Number one, I did not act alone.” He threw a thumb at the triplets next to him. “I had help from three of my very favorite brothers.”

The room’s attention swung to the three soldiers.

“Bullshit,” Kult said, next to Fetch.

“It’s accurate,” Fetch corrected. “He needed a body and so did we. In exchange for his help, we gave him what he needed to remain connected to all of you.”

Kult turned fully in his seat toward Fetch. “What do you mean y’all needed a body?”

“You had a life to live,” Fathom said, next to Fetch.

“And we had business to conduct that was no longer possible while sharing a vessel,” Fin added.

Handy leaned forward, grinning down the line at them. “Tell him whose idea that was.”

“Handy’s,” Fetch said. “He wanted to take the destructive parts of each of his brothers into himself so they could no longer harm any of you. ”

Handy opened both arms with a smile. “You’re welcome.”

“So… what exactly was the solution that enabled Handy to do what he did?” 8-Bit asked, bringing them back to the original puzzle.

Fathom said, “To realize he was part of each of them. And when they returned to their bodies, he would remain in all of them.”

“But fractured,” Handy said. “Requiring time to form the connections I needed to get strong enough to play my little wild card. You all remember the text party we had.”

Harlow looked at Kult and pointed at Handy. “I’m fucking ready to kill him all over again.”

“Nobody’s killing anybody,” Kult said, looking at the triplets. “Maybe you can help me Fetch, Fathom and Finish how I still have your puzzle abilities while you’re not in my head?”

The tension in the room suddenly thickened as they waited to hear.

“We never gave those abilities to you,” Fetch said.

“You gave them to us,” Fathom added.

“And we used them for you,” said Fin.

“No,” Kult said after a few seconds. “ You came to me.”

Fin turned and looked at Kult. “We did.”

“When the puzzles became too difficult,” Fetch said .

“Your mind needed more,” Fathom explained.

Kult’s head was shaking now. “No. There isn’t a puzzle out there too difficult for me.”

“There was,” Fetch said, his voice low.

“You don’t remember it,” Fathom said.

All eyes moved to Fin now. “We came that day.”

“Look, it’s a fact that some things are better left forgotten,” Harlow said, or warned quietly, getting Kult’s pissed glare.

“I’ve walked through every hell I’ve been through. Me,” Kult said, stabbing his chest. “I didn’t skip any hells. You think I fear anything ? Any trauma ?” He turned to Fetch who looked right at him now. “I watched my mother and sister, and baby brother starve to death because I couldn’t solve a fucking puzzle, and then my father blew his brains out. I didn’t skip that, I lived through it, I didn’t call anybody to come and save me, come and help me solve the puzzle!”

Holy fuck.

“That’s not the hell he’s talking about,” Handy said, his voice careful.

Kult snapped his head to him. “Did you hack into my fucking head and hide things from me? Is that what you did?”

“You removed it,” Fin said, bringing the man’s fury back to him .

They stared at each other for many seconds. “I didn’t remove anything. But whoever did needs to give it back .”

Fetch lifted his gaze to him. “We cannot.”

“And why the fuck not, those are my memories, my nightmares, my hell!”

“Look,” Harlow carefully pled. “How about we continue this in private.”

“In private,” Kult said, raising his voice then pointing to Handy. “You obviously fucking know, you tell me.”

“I will,” Handy assured, looking at him. “But not here, brother.”

“Brother,” he said, laughing dryly. “We’re all brothers here, one big family. I have nothing to hide. What about you, Seer? You know what they’re talking about?”

“No, son,” he said gently. “God decided it wasn’t my business to see.”

Kult looked at the triplets, then Handy, then Seer, shaking his head. “Well, isn’t that interesting. God, deciding you don’t get to see. And I don’t get to see. What else did God decide? Did he decide Handy here gets to see? Fetch, Fathom and Fin get to see?”

“Brother,” Pain pled quietly from across the table. “Don’t do this here.”

Kult shot up from his chair, sending it flying behind him as Pain, Fetch, Fathom and Fin rose too. “What are you standing for!” Kult yelled at them. “I want to know the big secret. You wanna shut me up?” He pounded his chest. “Come on then!”

Handy stood now. “Let’s go outside, we’ll talk.”

Kult stormed to him, getting in his face. “ Fuck you and fuck outside, you tell me here,” he ordered. “I don’t give a fuck who hears, you think I give a fuck who knows my bullshit? I give a fuck about me knowing, it’s my bullshit!”

Handy’s arms went around Kult so fast and the giant man launched them into the air, their bodies hitting the floor with a boom that put everybody on their feet. “Don’t touch him!” Handy yelled. “I got him!”

“Let me fucking go!” Kult roared as Handy wrapped his legs around him tight.

“Not letting you go, brother.”

“Don’t call me your fucking brother, I don’t have a brother! My brother died! I killed him!”

“You didn’t kill him,” Handy swore, his face twisted with the man’s agony.

“I fucking killed him! I killed all of them, I know I did, I owned it! I didn’t fucking run, I didn’t hide from it! That was my hell, it was my hell and I faced every fucking second of it!”

Spar closed his eyes when those final words came out shredded by pain .

“It was your hell, you didn’t run,” Handy whispered, winded. “You didn’t run, you faced it. You were the strongest boy on the fucking planet.”

“I faced it,” he bellowed. “I took it, it didn’t break me. Nothing can break me. I’m fucking unbreakable.”

Pain hurried out of the room and Atlas and Sync followed him while Harlow stared at the floor, shaking his head. “Sorry,” he barely said, racing after them.

“I got you,” Handy muttered quietly. “It’s all gone, now. It’s all fucking gone.”

Spar watched as the triplets lifted an unconscious Kult from Handy.

“Bring him in here, brothers,” Seer called at the doorway leading to his attached house.

Everybody turned when the main door opened and Maggie entered, looking confused as she made her way to Spook. “What happened?” she whispered.

“I don’t know what to say,” Bishop muttered to the quiet room. “We’ll reconvene tomorrow unless King Nidev’s news can’t wait.”

“It can surely wait,” the King said.