Pitmas (Part 2/2)

LAST TIME ON PITMAS...

"Cry if you want, boy, 'cause you had the chance to walk away. But you let me in, and I ain't leavin' till I get what's due to me. Expect me back same time, every day, until you guess right, and each time you guess wrong, I take somethin' from you. And if you don't get it by Christmas Mornin'..."

We now return to your regularly scheduled programming...

-------

"Utsuho... I'm really sorry..."

Those were the first words Pit managed to croak out, once he'd sipped from the glass of water and got some of his breath back.

"I... haven't been honest with you. There's something about me... that I haven't told you, or anyone else. Because it's a part of my life that I... don't like remembering. I went into a really dark place, then... and I didn't think it'd come back to haunt me like this. But now it's back, and I don't know what to do or how to stop it..."

He paused, swallowing, fighting back the urge to start sobbing again. Then he nearly jumped as two strong, warm arms wound themselves around him, and black wings joined in shortly after, creating a warm, comforting feather blanket. There were times having a living hot water bottle for a girlfriend was a very big blessing.

"...What is it?" Utsuho's voice was soft, and soothing. "You can tell me anything, Pit, especially if it's something important..."

Pit swallowed again, and did his best.

"...it was when I was very young, and a lot poorer. My parents... they used to fight a lot, mostly about money. Dad worked hard to make it, but Mum always spent it on stupid things like drugs. One night, before Christmas, it got really bad. So I did a dumb thing - I ran away, because I couldn't stand it. And I got lost in the seedy part of Manhattan - you know the sort of place. Where all the gangs and illicit business goes on. And then...

"I met this gentleman, he called himself Two-Coats... and he made me a deal that I could get rich and never have to worry about my parents fighting ever again. And I said yes, because I was desperate and frightened and didn't know what else to do..."

He paused, and took a big breath. Then he reached for the box of tissues, because his eyes were watering. It hurt, to admit all of this - it was a moment in his life that he had never told anybody, not even his parents. And now he was admitting it to his wife, the person with whom he ought to be the most honest with, after it would have been appropriate to tell her. Real smooth, Pit, he thought to himself as he dabbed at his face. Aurora would have cut your fingers off by now - and you'd deserve it.

"I don't know he did it, but... I ended up getting a position reserved at Sintendo, for new talent. And I never heard from him since then, until now. Because I owe him. But he's playing some twisted game... he's giving me a chance to get out of it by trying to guess what his real name is. Every time I guess wrong... well, you can see what happens there. And if I don't find out what it is by Christmas Morning... I'll lose everything."

His voice vecame very small, almost inaudible.

 "...even you..."

A moment of silence. Which was the first warning sign - Even when down or depressed, Utsuho stilled liked to talk. It made things easier for the both of them when they did that. Whenever the Hell Raven fell silent, for any reason whatsoever, then that was a bad sign, because either she was really upset about something...

"...So he's given you a chance and now he's taking it away for no good reason, and that includes me?"

...or really angry about something.

And Pit soon discovered, as her temperature suddenly rocketed and flames began to lick the air around her, that it was the latter.

"I wanna know," she hissed, eyes blazing, "if there's any reason I shouldn't just blast his face off the second he steps in!"

It took Pit a few seconds to reply. Mostly because he'd forgotten how scary his wife could be when she got angry. But once he'd remembered that yes, that was his beloved Utsuho standing in front of him, he managed to find his voice.

"...because I'm fairly certain," he responded, slowly, "that he could eat your danmaku and call them spicy meatballs. Seriously, this guy has a stomach bigger than Sarah - no offense to the girl, mind you, but there it is. Also," he added, quickly, to assure that he was still taking this seriously, "he might be a demon. And after all these years with the Kobbers, we both know what a bother it is to kill those things."
 
"Oh..." Utsuho deflated, wings sagging and fire flickering out in dissapointment. It was almost comical to watch - Pit knew how much his wife liked to fight things, and learning that this was a problem you couldn't solve through punching always seemed to dampen her spirits. But it didn't last long, and soon the Hell Raven had a thoughtful look upon her face as she pondered the situation.

"Then how do we figure out his name or whatever? Normally this is the kind of thing I'd ask Lady Satori about but I'm pretty sure she wouldn't know... do we need to find other people or something?"

Pit blanched at the implications. "I... I'd rather not have to get anyone else involved. Two-Coats might come after them as well, and I don't want to inflict this on any of the other Kobbers. Not when they're supposed to be having their holiday." Especially Dirk, he mentally added. He's probably sick of having to play hero on Christmas.

"But I suppose," he added, "maybe we could find someone who does know about this sort of thing... We need to research this guy, and fast, before he ruins Christmas and my life for good."

Utsuho nodded. "Alright, if you've got any idea where to start I'll fly over wherever you need! We don't have that much time so let's get going, Pit!"

"Okay, then..." Immensely cheered up by his wife's ethusiasm, Pit stood up and pocketed the mass of tissues he had accumilated, before heading out to collect his coat. Utsuho followed, as eager as he was to get this problem nipped in the bud.

"First," announced the Light Angel as he threw on the heavy garment, "let's start with the library! If there's any books on demonology that can tell us what this guy does, and if he has a weakness, we'll need them! And if we can find where this guy lurks as well, that'll be doubly useful!

"...You any good at reading, Okuu?" he asked, after a moment's thought.

"Yep! ...Although I need to take lots of notes to actually keep anything, eheheheh..."

Pit shrugged. "Eh, we'll work on it. And if we meet Gloria, that's more help for us. Let's go!"

-------

The library was still open at this time of night, surprisingly. Pit had always wondered why Gloria would keep it open to he public, instead of closing it to spend more time with her family on Christmas, but right now he was extremely grateful that she did. And in any case, there were more important things to worry about then what Gloria did in her spare time - most likely reading, if the angel knew her at all.

Of course, he wasn't one to throw stones at the moment, not when he was frantically flicking through some dusty old tomes himself. He had no idea that there were so many books on demonology - in fact, he recognized a few himself, from his school days when demonology was a compulsory thing. And thankfully, his skills in taking rapid-fire notes whilst the teacher talked hadn't diminished in the slightest. So there he was, copying as much of the old-timey, floral text as he could make out, his wrist groing rapidly tired as he wrote upon what might have been his third piece of paper of the night.

Thank goodness Gloria was so understanding. And had so much paper.

He knew he was done when he turned the page for the book he was on and found it blank - he'd reached the end. With a groan of exertion he closed the book, prised his fingers away from his pen and reached for another. As he did so, he happened to glance sideways, where he knew Utsuho was sitting at another part of the table with her half of the books-

-and found her slumped over her notes, fast asleep.

After a confused pause, he gave a sigh and shook his head a little, although a smile graced his face at the sight. In all honesty, he should have expected this to happen - it was getting late, and the two had already exhausted themselves somewhat by worrying about the Two-Coats situation. He couldn't really fault her for losing concentration like this, especially in here. The angel didn't know of any other places that were more conductive to falling asleep than the stuffy air of a library, except maybe his own comfy bed.

Besides, she looked really cute when she was alseep.

Rising carefully from his seat, Pit reached over and carefully shook his wife by the shoulder. "Okuu?"

"Hnh? What?" Utsuho's eyes fluttered open, and lifted her head to look up at him with bleary eyes. For a moment, it seemed as though she'd forgotten where she was or what she was doing, and Pit's heart nearly melted into goo at the sight of it.

"You fell asleep," he explained.

Realization quickly came to the Hell Raven, and she groggily pulled herself upright. "Sorry, Pit, eheheheh... I guess I just got tired..."

"Yeah, I don't blame you." Pit reached for his chair and shuffled it around, positioning it next to Utsuho. "Shall we compare what we've got, at least?"

Utsuho nodded, and the two sat side-by-side as they looked over what they had managed to extract from the collections of tomes and grimoires on the subject. Much to their dissapointment, only a few went into any detail about the creature they were facing now, and most of them repeated the same thing ad nauseum - perhaps the authors had been in cahoots with each other at some point. The info they had gathered, though, said a lot - their adversary went under many names, the River King being one of them, and it turned out he fed on human misery, and thus had been making unsavoury deals since the earliest civilizations.

"So," grumbled Pit as he observed that particular passage. "It's not just me. He's been pulling this shit for a long time, and on Palutena-knows how many people."

"I wonder," mused Utsuho as she leaned over his shoulder, "if anyone else thought of trying to stop him. I mean, they can't just let him get away with this, right...?"

"Seems some tried." Pit's tone was sour as he noted a particularly striking image - the fat, fish-faced demon happily picking his teeth with some unfortunate knight's sword.

It wasn't long, however, before some breakthroughs were made. Utsuho had found that the thing needed to be invited into houses, much like a vampire, and could only manifest physically when people had made deals with him. Which meant that, as long as Pit's bargain was in place, the creature was vulnerable. And there was one particular detail that, upon closer examination, the duo had agreed to keep as a backup plan, in case whatever solution they first tried didn't work out. It was worth remembering, at any rate.

But finally, they settled on something. Something that had been repeated consistently and frequently in every book featuring the monster they'd seen, where others either appeared in only a few, or only once. A pair of words that, when put into context, could only have been the solution they were looking for.

Tahm Kench.

"That must be it," insisted Pit, slapping a thumb to the page. "This has to be his real name - why else does it appear so much."

"Great!" Utsuho seemed very relieved that they'd found something of value - and also very baggy-eyed - as she began to gather the books up. "If that is his name, all you gotta do is guess it, and he'll leave you alone, right?"

Pit paused as he helped to sort the tomes, pondering. "I'm not that sure. If what they say about this guy is true, he might try and abuse some loophole to get out of it. 'That used to be my name, but not anymore' - that type of nonsense."

"Well..." Utsuho seemed worried for a few moments, but then her face steeled. "It's worth a try, right? And even if it doesn't work, at least we have the backup plan."

"Do we have a backup of the backup?" Pit grunted as he heaved his stack off the table.

"Yeah." The Hell Raven's eyes glinted. "Blow him off the face of this planet."

Pit laughed. "Of course."

But secretly, he was hoping that they wouldn't need to resort to backups.

-------

The next day proceeded as normally as the two could manage it. Pit did his usual jobs around the house - feeding the sharks, doing the dishes, putting out seed for the birds and things like that. But it was obvious that as hard as he tried to pretend things were okay, they really weren't, and he kept jumping at every sudden sound or movement. Utsuho knew what he was feeling, and helped, in small ways, to alleviate his discomfort, such as sitting next to him when The Muppets' Christmas Carol came on, or helping him with the cooking.

It helped keep his nerves in check come dinnertime.

They had been expecting the knock on the door. How could they not? They had been preparing for it all day - and it was no surprise to Pit that it came at exactly the same time it had previously. Right down to the minute, it was proved upon a quick glance at the clock, and husband and wife shared a look with each other as they steeled themselves for what was to come.

Then Pit put down the plate with the turkey on it, straightened up and went to the front door.

Utsuho had only seen pictures of the monster in the books they'd read last night, so she wasn't really sure what to assume of his appearance or mannerisms. She was not to be dissapointed - the thing that followed in Pit's wake as he walked into the dining room, sliding his copius frame through the door with a grunt of effort, was almost a fraction uglier than the drawings had suggested. The gleam in his eyes as he looked upon her, presumably for the first time, was even worse, almost predatory in their intent.

"Ah, is this the lovely Utsuho I've been told about?" The thing made a show of tipping his battered top hat - a false gesture of congeniality, if ever there was one. "I am delighted to make your acquaitence, my dear!"

"Likewise," muttered Utsuho, holding back the urge to throw up.

Dinner proceeded in the same fashion as it had previously - the monster making small talk as he devoured the food that had been prepared for other people, with his host trying his best to not scream in terror or reach for a knife. It amaed Utsuho at how rapidly the thing could devour the entire spread in front of it - she'd been reckoned a champion eater equal to Sarah, but the beast seemed to have literally no end to his appetite or bottom to his stomach. It was almost commendable, in a gross and off-putting kind of way.

Eventually, the table had been completely cleared, every plate licked clean by the fat tongue of the monster. The latter belched in satisfaction, picked a morsel from between his jagged fangs, then turned to the revolted duo beside him and heaved himself onto his feet.

"Now," he growled, leering ominously, "to business. You figured it out?"

"I've got some good guesses," was Pit's response. But he shared a nervous glance with Utsuho that did not go amiss.

"Well, let's hear 'em." And the bloated form of Two-Coats folded his arms, his enormous grin growing wider, and waited for the responses.

"Clarence?" was the first try.

But the creature shook its head, making its whiskers wobble. "First time wrong, kid. Try again."

"Boudreaux?" tried Pit.

"Nope," chuckled the beast. "But I gots me a cousin by the name Boudreaux? Not as refined of taste as yours truly, of course, but-"

"Tahm Kench."

The change that came over Two-Coats' countenance was startling. In almost the space of an entire second, the smug grin fell away, the yellow eyes widened with dawning realization, and what colour remained in the clammy, grey skin drained out. It was the first time that Pit had ever seen the creature with an expression other than self-confident superiority, and it was almost frightening how different he looked when he wasn't gloating or monologing.

"...what?" he hissed.

"Tahm Kench," repeated Pit, but now with more confidence. "That's your name, right?"

A pause.

Then Tahm Kench gave an ugly chuckle.

"Very good," he growled. "Didn't think you'd get it right - but then again, that be the same mistake ol' 'Stilkskin made. Guess we demon-types be slow learners, eh?"

"Yep," retorted Pit, feeling a weight lift off of his heart. This was it. Finally, he'd bested the demon, and he was free from the horrible bargain that he'd made so long ago, when he was but a young child. Now he could get on with his life without having to look over his shoulder allthe time-

And then the tongue lashed out and scooped the gifts right out from next to the television. There was a flash of wrapping that whizzed by Pit's face for a moment, then it all disappeared with a titanic crunching noise as Tahm Kench bit down with a sharp, almost physical finality.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" screamed the angel.

"Ah gave you till Christmas Morn' to guess my name," snarled the beast, once he had finished chewing. "But I never said nothing about leavin' yer alone if you got it right, and if your honestly though that was gonna happen, yer dumber than a catfish on dry mud! A payment is due, Peter Angelos, an' I will get what is-"

"HOLD IT!"

Pit's vision was suddenly full of black wings and warmth. When he looked again, Utsuho was standing in his way, arms spread in front of her defiantly. He couldn't see her face, but he could feel the intense heat radiating off from her, and could very well picture the barely-contained scowl of rage she would have had on her face. He also couldn't see Tahm Kench, for some reason, but his response showed an uncharacteristic confusion - he could picture the massive brow creasing and the eyes narrowing.

"What's this about?" the fish monster snarled.

"You want to get to Pit so bad?" snapped Utsuho. "Then take me!"

Pit's blood ran cold, and he nearly screamed out something in protest.

"Well..." said Tahm, after a moment's pause, "that's awful kind of ya. I do so like hot food-"

"On one condition. You give back everything you've taken from him. You do that, and I'm yours. Just leave Pit alone."

Instantly, Tahm Kench flung back his head and let out a roar of rage that shook the house. Pit clamped his hands over his ears to try and block it out, but the mere volume of it rattled his bones, and he nearly lost his balance and fell over as the air around him seemed to vibrate.

"WHO TOLD YOU THAT?!" screamed Tahm Kench, in an apoplexy of fury. "WHO TOLD YOU HOW TO DO THAT?!"

"I did my research," Pit thought he heard Utsuho shout, over the gnashing of teeth. But it was clear that the monster wasn't listening anymore - he was in such a fury that he no longer seemed to care what he was doing, or who was inthe room with him. Eyes nearly bursting out of his skull, the River King was alternating between snapping at the air with his crooked jaws as he ranted, and lashing about with a tongue that writhed and coiled like a serpent recieving drastic shock therapy. It was quite horrible to watch, yet Pit didn't feel an ounce of sympathy for Tahm.

"WAS IT AATROX?! BY THE BLACK BAYS OF BILGEWATER, WHEN I CATCH THAT SON OF A-!"

"Whoa, careful, you might bite your-"

There was a noise like a steak being cut in half.

"...tongue," Pit finished lamely, as the appendage flopped to the carpet, still spurting blood.

Tahm Kench stared at it.

Then he gave a noise between a cough and a growl, and all at once everything he'd eaten since turning up at the angel's house came pouring out of his cavernous throat. The decorations, the tree, the food, the gifts - all if it was there, and all of it was whole and untouched, as if it hadn't been ripped callously off the walls, or crunched up and swallowed a day ago. And, much to Pit's surprise, none of it smelt of stomach, or looked digested in any way.

But he had little time to ponder that phenomenon. The thumping of footsteps made him jerk his head up, just in time to see Tahm Kench, roaring and spitting red, barge his way out of the door and lumber down the path. Both Pit and Utsuho ran after him, and reached the door just in time to see him race down the street, still gargling and snarling with blood dribbling down his chin, before he turned a corner and vanished out of sight.

"AND DON'T COME BACK!" hollered Utsuho, waving her arm cannon threateningly. Pit couldn't resist a chuckle at that, knowing full well that his wife was holding back a good deal, for the safety of the people. Had he given her permission, she would have thrown an entire sun on top of Kench to stop him coming back, but the colatteral wouldn't have been worth it, as far as Pit was concerned. People wanted a white Christmas, he'd explained, not a charred one sprinkled with radiation.

Quickly, because it was cold, the two drew inside and shut the door.

Then they turned and wrapped each other up in an enormous hug.

"I'm so glad that worked," Utsuho whispered into Pit's ear.

"Me, too," replied Pit. He had been hoping that Utsuho wouldn't have to resort to that - offering herself in return for all the stolen things had seemed crazy, at first, and Pit had objected quite vehemently. But the old tomes had turned out to be correct in one regard; Tahm Kench simply couldn't stomach an unselfish deal that wasn't for one's profit. Desperate people looking for a cheap way out, or greedy people seeking to better themselves, he could handle. But a bargain made from the goodness of one's heart was literal poison to him, undoing all the terror and curses he'd spun over his victims.

And that meant Pit was free.

Once they'd let go of each other. Utsuho took the food and, after making sure it was clean, helped to set it up on the table, putting the excess aside for reheating at a later time. Pit, meanwhile, busied himself with putting the decorations and presents back in their proper places - they were all completely whole, so it wasn't as hard as it looked. Between the two of them, they soon got the house back into its proper state, looking as festive and untouched as it had been before.

Once dinner was done (and Utsuho had complimented him on his cooking), Pit was washing the dishes when he saw the tongue, which had been put on a plate to deal with later on the kitchen countertop. He looked at it, very keenly, as he finished up the last few plates, set them aside and dried his hands on the tea towel. An idea was forming in his mind, and he let it stew for a few moments, turning it over and ensuring it was thoroughly thought out.

Then he reached for the phone, and made a call.

...

"'Sup, Dirk. How goes it?

"...of course. Listen, I need to ask something of you. Food-related.

"No, no, hear me out. Listen... how do you prepare a giant demon catfish's tongue? Like, I'm thinking of maybe cubing it for a stew, or just boiling and roasting it...

"...lots and lots of salt. Got it. Thanks a bunch, bro."

 You have been reading

~PITMAS: Frozen Creek~

A ZFRP Christmas Story

featuring:

PIT ANGELOS

UTSUHO ANGELOS

And introducing TAHM KENCH as HIMSELF

Featuring cameos by GLORIA ENCARTA and DIRK ANGELOS

MUSIC TRACK:

"You Make Me Feel So Young" - Frank Sinatra

"The River King" - Riot Games

"Sunken Crypt" - Alice: Madness Returns

"Valua City" - Skies of Arcadia

"Timber Owls" - Final Fantasy VIII

"Here Comes Trouble..." - Banjo-Tooie

"You're the Superstar!" - Mario Party 5

"It Feels Like Christmas" - The Muppet Christmas Carol

THANK YOU FOR READING!

MERRY CHRISTMAS!

Pitmas (Part 1/2)

~THE ANGELOS RESIDENCE, MANHATTAN~

"You make me feel so young...
You make me feel so 'Spring has sprung'..."

It was a dumb song to sing, really. The only reason Pit was singing it at all was because it was on television so much. But it was surprisingly appropriate, considering what he was doing at the moment.

It was only last year that Utsuho had experienced Christmas properly. And whilst that had been a brillian experience, as far as Pit was concerned, that was when she had merely been his fiance, and not his wife as she was now. And this was going to be their first Christmas as a married couple - one that the angel wanted them both to cherish and remember for always afterwards. So, being the old-fashioned romantic he was, he had decided that this year, he was going to do something special for her, to make this year's Yuletide something to remember.

And that something was a Pre-Christmas Dinner back at his house.

It was a strange concept, to say the east, and one that even Dirk had raised an eyebrow at. But Pit knew how much that Utsuho loved her food, especially when it came to the yearly goodies. And thus did the white-winged angel find himself within the kitchen, busying himself over the pots on the stove and the slow cooker and goodness knows what else was going on in there. Whilst the eldest of the Angelos Brothers may not have been the esteemed cook his brother was, the fine, toothsome smell of roasting chestnuts, traditional Christmas pudding, cooking goose and more besides indicated he was making pretty good progress.

And he was pretty happy with that progress, as he continued singing along as he stirred the contents of a saucepan.

"And every time I see you grin,
I'm such a happy... in-dividual!"

Dirk has given some pointers, of course - he was the expert when it came to food prep. But the dark-winged angel had fully admitted that tradition was not something he was partial to, not after the gourmet cooking had been such a runaway success with Josephine. So whilst he'd given what advice he could, in the end it had been mostly up to Pit to make it work. And as he took a small taste of the cranberry sauce he was working on, he was pretty sure he was making it work just spectacularly.

Utsuho is going to love this, he thought to himself.

"You and I...
Are just like a-"

Knock knock.

Pit paused mid-stir, confusion lacing his mind. Then he put the spoon back in the saucepan, turned the heat down to "simmer" and made for the door. Who would be calling upon him at this time of the day? Certainly not Utsuho, as far as he knew - she'd promised to arrive much later than this, he knew, so that the dinner would be ready in time. And Wes Weasely hadn't figured out how to bypass their new honey badger security system, so it couldn't have been him...

The view through the door didn't give much indication, either - just a lare bulk, obscured by the frosted-over windows. Pit did not envy anyone who was outside this year, for it had been the worst sort of snow the city had seen for a good long while. He briefly wondered, as he approached the door, whom would be stupid or brave enough to try and withstand the driving blizzards to call upon his house, if they weren't his wife. Perhaps one of his portly uncles had arrived to share some of the family cider?

"Hel-" he began to say as he opened the door.

And then fearful recognition turned the word to thorns in his mouth.

"Oh, I do beg your pardon," drawled the monstrous thing on the doorstep. "I hope I'm not interrupting anything... important."

On the surface, the words seemed sincere, almost melodic. But Pit knew very well what sort of slimy ugliness was beneath them, and it made his stomach churn with disgust even as his blood froze in barely-restrained terror. He had to force his next sentence out, the words sticking in his throat, and they tasted bitter as he spoke, almost as if he was dreaming the whole situation.

"No, not at all," he lied, and instantly hated himself.

The beast gave an ugly chuckle, baring all of his teeth. "Well, now, can a gentleman come in from the cold? You know it ain't polite to refuse an old acquaintance, don't ya?"

"Of course." Pit stood aside automatically, gesturing with one hand. "Come right in."

The creature grinned wider, and turned sideways as he pushed his way through the doorframe, so as he could fit through and cross the threshold properly. Pit could have screamed as the thing entered his house, but said nothing as his uninvited guest ambled towards the dining room, filling the air with the foul scent of stagnant water and pudgy feet leaving damp track marks in the carpet. And as he watched the beast lug it's way past the next door, humming some backwater tune to itself, a horrible thought lanced across his mind like an icicle thrown by an Olympic javelin-thrower.

Please... Not now...

Pitmas (Prologue)

Once upon a time, there lived a very small angel with white wings, who was very unhappy. His mother was poor, and spent all her money on frivolous things. His father worked long hours, and was rarely around for him. His wings were very small indeed, smaller than any angel that had been born, and all the kids in school teased him because they were too small to let him fly. But worst of all was whenever his mother and father quarreled, for although they loved each other very much, they could not stand the other's bad habits, and this made the very small angel very sad indeed.

But the very small angel had a dream - a very big dream indeed. In the very small house where he lived, he could look out of his bedroom window and see the great, shining tower of Sintendo, like a beacon in the inky blackness of the Manhattan skyline. He knews that place was were all the most famous people were - Mario, Link and Samus among them. And before he went to sleep, he always wished that, some day, a very small angel would walk to the very top of that tower and meet those famous people.

"I'll be as famous as they are, some day," he would say to himself. "I know I'll be."

And that day came sooner than he thought.

One Christmas Eve, his mother and father were having a terrific argument, the worst one they had in a long time. The very small angel did his best to not listen to what they were saying, but they shouted so loud that it was very hard not to hear it.

"How do you expect me to feed this family?!" his father was saying. "How can I save up for anything on Christmas when you keep spending my money on your ridiculous Pipe and those wretched beads?!"

"What else am I supposed to do?!" his mother shouted back. "You're never around anymore! You don't even speak to our son, and he doesn't see you!"

"That's because I'm at work, trying to earn for this family!" yelled his father. "But of course, you wouldn't know anything about work, would you?"

"And you wouldn't know anything about being a parent!" shrieked his mother.

The very small angel covered his ears, trying not to listen to all this horrible shouting. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't not hear what came next, nor would he ever forget it.

"You're a disgrace!" bellowd his father. "I wish I'd never met you!"

"And I wish I'd never met you, either!" screamed his mother.

That was too much for the very small angel. With tears in his eyes, he ran down the stairs of their very small house, out of the door, down the garden path and down the street, away from the house. He didn't know or care where he was going, he just wanted to get away from the awful argument and not have to see his parents again. How could they say something like that to each other, on Christmas Eve? It wasn't fair, and it wasn't anybody's fault that they were poor and couldn't afford much! Why did they have to make such a big fight about it?

Night was falling fast, and soon it was very dark and cold. The very small angel didn't know where he'd run to, and found himself in a dark, dirty corner of the city, where not even the bravest dare go for fear of what lurked there. Soon, he began to be very sorry he ran away, and tried to find his way back home, but the more corners he turned, the more lost and frightened he became. He saw the mark of the Black Dragon on a wall, and knew what that meant, so he ran away quickly. And he met many people who looked at him kindly, or chased him away with knives, or didn't even notice him. But he never found his way home, or anyone who could tell him the way.

"Oh, why ever did I run away?" cried the very small angel. "I know mother and father arguing was bad, but it was much better than this! At least at home, I could be warm, and have something to eat!"

Just then, he heard a strange sound, coming from a dark corner that had, at the time, seemed damp and empty. As he listened, the sound grew and formed words, in a language that he had never heard before, not from his friends or at school - flowing and babbling like a river. And somehow, he felt drawn towards that dark, damp corner, as if it was offering him safety and comfort from the darkness around him. So he drew closer, and as he drew closer, the louder the sound became, and the more clearer the words, although he still didn't understand them.

When he got to the dark, damp corner, he saw that it was part of a bridge, that overlooked a river - which strange, because he was very sure the river had not been there before. At first, he couldn't see anything, but then he heard a splashing sound, and saw something move beneath the water.

So the very small angel looked over the bridge, and saw...

...a very large gentleman. 

PITMAS: FROZEN CREEK

Coming Soon... 

Viva Las Vegas

WARNING: The following is really fucking long. Read only when you have the spare time. And also something to drink.

~THE PITBROS HOUSE, MANHATTAN~

"Aaaand... check."

"Alright!" whooped Dirk as he threw his last bag into the back of the car. "All set and ready!"

Pit nodded, smiling. Finally, everything was ready. After months of preparation, planning and... not getting too excited, everything was ready for their third big excursion. This time, the ZFS Corporation had settled down in Las Vegas, looking to branch out into big-budget hotels and nightlife entertainment on top of all it's over services, and the Pitbros. knew the other Kobbers would be right behind. It hadn't been hard to find the new King of Beasts - the combined hotel, lounge and casino resort had been advertised literally everywhere one could advertise such a thing. And where the King of Beasts went, the angels would go, naturally.

As Dirk headed round the car to add his computer back to the collection in the back seat, Pit looked up just in time to see Utsuho emerging from the house, her own small bag slung over one shoulder. The older brother had made sure to pack her suitcase in with the others in the trunk of the car, so the Hell Raven didn't have as much to bother carrying from the house.

"You ready?" grinned Pit.

"Yeah," responded Utsuho, holding up her own bag. "I've got everything!"

 "Alright, hop in." And Pit opened the passenger door, allowing Utsuho to walk down and climb into the seat. Then, as Dirk found his own place in the back, Pit circumnavigated the car and clambered into the driver's seat, ensuring he was well-seated before shutting the door.

"You excited to go?" he asked as he buckled up. "I know Vegas isn't going to be like anything you've been to before, so hopefully you'll enjoy it!"

"Yep!" Utsuho seemed to positively radiate excitement. "I mean, I know you took me to Manhattan, but you said it's a lot different from Vegas, so I'm really wondering what it'll be like!"

"Yeah, I've never been, either!" A grin split Pit's face as he pulled out the Satnav. "This is gonna be a new experience for both of us!"

"Not to mention getting married, too!" Dirk shot back. "Hope you guys booked a decent venue - if they don't do shots, I'm out!" Pit just rolled his eyes at that - maybe asking Dirk to be the best man wasn't the brilliant idea it had seemed at the time.

Utsuho turned a little red. "Eheheh... yeah, I'm looking forward to that... Oh what are you planning on doing, Dirk?" she queried, turning around to face Dirk where he sat.

The dark angel shot her a lewd grin. "More like who," he chuckled.

"Dirk, please," groaned Pit, facepalming.

"But yeah, I'm meeting up with Jo once we get there," clarified the younger angel. "She's been itching to go for ages - wants to challenge all the casinos, I bet." He grinned, knowing that his girlfriend's love of money was one feature he was more than happy to support - especially in a place like Vegas.

 "Huh, didn't expect that out of her..." Utsuho took the time to mull that one over, before brightening up. "Well, hopefully she'll do a good job of it!"

"Don't worry, I'll be behind her all the way."

"Of course you will." Unfazed completely by yet another of Dirk's puns, Pit finished typing in the adress, and then hit the ignition button. At once, the car roared into life, almost as eager to get going as it's occupants were, and the sound seemed to lend some life into the white-winged angel. He gripped the steering wheel with expectant fervour and turned to his riding companions, eyes shining with excitement. "

"Alright," he called out, "we ready for off?"

"Yep!" was Utsuho's response. "I'm ready whenever you guys are!"

"Then off we go!" And with that, Pit pulled the car out of the driveway, swung it around with practiced ease, and then set off with no small amount of tire squeal down the road that lead out of the neighborhood and, eventually, Manhattan.

"Cocaine and booze," crowed Dirk, "here we come!"

"Dirk, please."

Saint Patrick's Dirk (Belated)

"Dirk?"

Dirk made a noise like a hippo imitating a V10 engine, but didn't move.

"Dirk," groaned Pit, "wake up already."

"Just let me stick to what I'm good at, yeah?" grumbled the dark angel, and rolled over

"Would it help if I kicked you?" Pit was starting to get irritated as well.

"Would it give you any satisfaction?" was Dirk's reply, shifting position a little.

"No."

"Me neither, so bugger off. Why is this bed so hard?"

"Because," said Pit, with the tone a primary school teacher uses to address a particularly stupid child, "it is not your bed. It is the hood of a Lamborghini which has been crashed through-"

Dirk was bolt upright in an instant, ignoring the telltale throb of a hangover as he looked around. What he thought was his bedroom turned out to be the dining room, which had undergone a startling transformation since he had last seen it - a lot of green paper shamrocks were pinned to the roofs, and one wall featured a poster of a leprechaun bearing the most tortured cereal-mascot smile possible. The counter surface was littered in empty bottles and glasses of varying descriptions, and an unidentifiable liquid substance was splattered on the floor - probably a spit drink of some kind.

What was more startling, he discovered when he turned his head, was the massive hole in the wall. And the Lamborghini Reventón stuck halfway through it, the hood of which he was currently sitting on. Somehow, despite the forces required for a car like this to break through a solid brick wall, it didn't have a single scratch on it, looking as though it had walked freshly from the factory.

There was a long pause whilst Dirk tried to correlate all this information.

"...and when did this get here?" he tried, at last.

"How the heck should I know?!" cried Pit, throwing up his hands in frustration. "You're the one who crashed it into our house!"

"Let's not shout, okay?" hissed Dirk, bringing up a hand to his forehead. Here came the hangover - and it wasn't a pretty one, lancing through his brain like a javelin made of sandpaper and hedgehogs. With an effort, he pushed himself upright, slid off the hood of the Lambo and staggered around to investigate it. Might as well do something productive, if only to ignore the massive amounts of ranting from Pit he could foresee.

"Looks new," he muttered under his breath as he inspected it. "Hardly done a few miles, I should think."

"Do you have any idea," Pit was beginning to say, "of how much this is gonna cost us. Wes Weasley will be laughing all the way back home - if we can even get him to do something about this!" Dirk pointedly ignored him and peered through the window of the car, taking in the blurry images of black leather, brown Alcantara and several crates of-

"Holy shit," he cried despite the resurgence in head pain. "It's full of beer!"

"Not to mention," Pit went on, "that somebody obviously owns that car, and we're going to have to do a hell of a lot of explaining when we give it back to them!"

"None of it's even open!" Dirk added, still ignoring him as he wrenched the door open and bent over to inspect the goods.

"And how are we-?" Pit suddenly trailed to a stop, and for a moment there was silence. And then the audible smacking noise made Dirk turn his head around, finding his brother with one hand over his mouth and shoulder shaking in a fit of hysterical laughter. His eyes seemed to be aimed downwards, for some reason...

"What?" was the dark angel's confused question.

By way of reply, because he was still giggling fit to burst, Pit suddenly whipped out the Mirror Shield and held it up.

And right there, emblazoned across the seat of the shamrock-green Speedos that were the only piece of clothing Dirk had on, were the words "KISS ME, I'M IRISH".

-------

Some say you could hear Dirk's scream of horror from five miles away.

Valentines (with thanks to RubyChao)

"Okay, well... good luck, bro."

That's all the advice Pit ccould give before Dirk, still smirking like a hyaena, strolled out of the house with his package under one arm. With a sigh and a shake of the head, Pit pushed the door shut until the latched clicked, signifying that, for whatever reason, his brother would not be back for a while.

Then he turned and strolled back into the living room, where Utsuho was lounging on the couch.

"Anything on telly?" he asks.

Utsuho shrugs. "Not yet... I think there's a good movie coming up, but it's not on for a while... What was Dirk doing, anyway?" she asks as she looks up at her boyfriend.

"Oh, he's off to deliver his Valentines present to Josephine," is the explanation. "And if I know my bro, which I do, I don't think he's gonna be back for some time..." Pit visibly shudders at this, as if knowing anything that could come from this would not be his definition of "good" at all.

"Oh, Valentine's day!" The Hell Raven perks up at this,eyes shining with interest. "Lady Satori told me about that once, but I don't really know much about it... it's about gifts and stuff, right?"

There is a pause as Pit tries to find the right words.

"Well... it's a bit more than that," he says, at last. "It's about showing that special person how much you care for them. How much they mean to you. And presents are a big part of it, yes, but it's kinda like Christmas in that regard. It's not about the receiving, it's the giving. It's about love." Sappy, yes, but exactly what you'd expect from Peter Angelos at this point, right?

Realization crosses Utsuho's face. "Oh... oh, I get it!" she cries. And then even further realization hits her, causing her to slump rather despondently into the couch. "But... I don't have anything for you, Pit... I didn't think I'd need to get anything so maybe I can go out now and find it if it's not too late?"

The angel gives a reassuring smile. "Sure, it's not too late. Don't worry. And I need to get something too, so... how about we both go, together?"

"Eheheh, thanks! Alright, let's go then!"

And thus, off the two went to get each other that special something.

-------

"Double Flying Cross Slash! NOW!"

The gigantic shere-like robot had already taken plenty of punishment, so when Heaven and Hel''s signature team attack came along it didn't stand a chance. In one fell swoop, the combined strike of Pit's Tiger Claws and Utsuho's boot carved a clean chunk right out of the midsection, obliterating precious wiring and circuitry. With a last, tortured groan, the mechanoid known as Helios toppled backwards, shedding components as it fell, to dash itself to pieces at last as it hit the ground with heavy clang.

Swooping around in a circle, the couple landed side-by-side to admire the wreckage of the latest Bonus Boss to fall victim to their team synergy.

"Whoo! That was pretty fun!" Pit grinned as he punched the air in triumph. "Nice moves, Okuu!"

"Hahaha, thanks!" was Utsuho's response. "You were pretty good yourself, it's nice that we haven't gotten rusty or anything!" With a nod of agreement, Pit led the way out of the room, and were soon exiting the Bonus Boss Pavilion with two free copies of Metroid Prime 3 under their arms - yet another game to add to Pit's ever growing backlog of the things. What had started out as a shopping trip, as one might have guessed whenever Kobbers get involved, had gone a bit off-track.

"...I bet this is a really rare kind of Valentine's thing," added Utsuho, after a moment's silence. "Pretty sure most people wouldn't go fight a dangerous robot to celebrate!"

"That's the Kobbers for you," Pit retorted as he turned to face his fiance, smiling. "We're not 'most people'. And I'm kinda glad we aren't~" he added as he took the opportunity and leaned in for a hug, which Utsuho gladly accepted.

There was a small pause as the two simply enjoyed the moment. And then the raven, remembering something, pulled away.

"So, um..." she tried. "This might sound awkward after we just had our date thing but... Can we still get some chocolate?"

 "Of course, Okuu."

-------

Meanwhile...

 

As the saying goes, that's our Dirky!

Pitsgiving 3

"Nephew."

Pit turned, recognizing the voice. "Hmm?" he responded, his mouth full of roast meat.

He was promptly greeted by the hulking figure of Great Uncle Kain - all seven feet of him. Tawny wings rustled as his distant relative adjusted his position in his seat. Muscles like steel cable rippled as he leaned over inquisitively and gestured with the flagon of ale in one meaty paw.

"Your brother," he rumbled, and his voice was like the Giant's Causeway had learned to speak. "He is not here?"

"Nhmmm, hmm-" Pit checked himself and swallowed. "No, he's back in Manhattan. He's spending Thanksgiving with his girlfriend."

"Ah," came the response, followed by a wry grin. "I think I have heard of her. The one with the nice arse?"

At this, Pit found himself biting back a shudder of horror. "Yes, Uncle. That one."

"Well, you just tell him his Great Uncle Kain wants a rematch!" And with a chuckle, the huge angel went back to his meal. Pit actually did shudder this time, recalling the incident of last year's thanksgiving where an arm-wrestling competition got out of hand. Thank goodness Dirk had sworn off the alcohol until Christmas. Now he needed a distraction to take his mind off of that.

And as luck would have had it, there was one right next to him. To his left, Utsuho was busy chowing down on some roast boar - her third helping that day. This hadn't really come as a surprise, especially not to the angels, for half of the Angelos extended family was renowned for their prowess at the dinner table. Leaning over, Pit gave the Hell Raven a tap on the shoulder to get her attention.

"Enjoying yourself, Okuu?" he asked, cheerily. She looked up from her food at him, smiling back in response.

"Yep! It's been pretty fun so far, and it's been pretty nice to meet your family! Good food, too!" she added, taking another bite of boar's leg.

Pit grinned to see his girlfriend's appetite - it certainly exceeded his own. "Only the best, that's what Auntie Deidre says! Of course, everyone else pitches in as well, but who do you think cooked that boar you're eating?"

"I dunno," shrugged Utsuho. "I haven't met everyone yet! Then again, I'm guessing it's your aunt..." Here, she took a pause in order to take a drink - most of it was alcoholic, of course, because Irish Angels had a bad habit of drinking little else. It was rather gratifying for Pit to know that his fiancee had no problems with it, and he merely watched as the Hell Raven gulped down quite the amount of cider.

"She was pretty nice, at least!" she continued once she'd put her mug down. "Has she always been doing this?"

"Pffft, since she got married, at least. But she always enjoys doing it, and it shows."

Just then, there was a commotion from the head of the table, involving a lot of people shushing other people. This was because a certain somebody had stood up, obviously wanting to give a speech about the event or something, and lots of shushing was the only way to get people to shut up. Especially if that person was Godfather Rafferty, the richest angel in existence, with more businesses and hired goons to his name than Alan Sugar.

The elderly angel surveyed the hallway as the talk and clink of cutlery died down. Then he cleared his throat and, obviously having memorized his speech before, began.

"Friends and family, if you came here expecting my usual spiel, prepare to be disappointed. I am here to congratulate my godson, Pit, on proposing to his new girlfriend, who has the honour of being with us today on this occasion..."

The speech continued in this usual vein - Rafferty was nothing if not gifted with words. Most of it consisted of the sort of praise and cheap jokes one would find in a best man speech, although nobody seemed to mind. In fact, most everyone was in that state of drunkenness where even the dumbest joke is funny, and even Pit had to hold back a chortle when a lame crack about "holding down the B button" was made. It was a good speech, overall, and as was the way with anything Rafferty did it was brisk and to the point.

Especially the ending bit.

"...and I would like to finish by advising my godson - if you don't wear protection on the night, I'll send my boys over to skin you alive. Enjoy tonight!"

The mass of angels around the tables erupted into cheers and applause - and more besides. With a dignified air and a wry smirk, Godfather Rafferty folded away his cue cards and sat back down, magpie-patterned wigs folding casually behind his back. Glasses, flagons and more were raised in toasts, and in a trice the drinking and feasting had resumed as if no speeches had been made at all. That was the beauty of angel celebrations - once a point had been made, there was no unnecessary lingering on it. Things got back to the way they were, with the assumption everyone had taken it on board.

At his own table, sensing a little discomfort from Utsuho, Pit leaned over and tapped her on the shoulder.

"He doesn't mean it, you know," he offered. "Godfather's filthy rich, yeah, but he's not really a mafia boss. At least, I hope not!"

To his relief, Utsuho shrugged, seemingly unaffected. "Heh, I don't think they'd win a tangle with me! Explosive nuclear powers! Although we probably don't need to worry anyway, right?"

"Of course not!" Relaxing, Pit took a quick swig of cider before clarifying: "He doesn't mean anything by it, we all make jokes like that here!"

"Oh, cool! I bet I could think of a joke or two like that then!

"...Maybe later, though," the Hell Raven added, a little awkwardly. "I don't have anything right now actually..."

Pit shrugged at this, smiling genially. "Hey, no problem! If it makes you feel any better, I haven't got a speech prepared at all. It's not like they expect you to give one, anyway."

 "Oh, well, that's good to know!" There was a small pause as the couple ate in silence. To Pit's right, Uncle Kain started getting rowdy, bellowing demands for more cider despite efforts from other cousins to shush him.

"...So," Utsuho ventured, "how many more people are speaking, anyway?"

Pit paused to consider this. "Well... Godfather always does one, then I think my mom occasionally does. And then somebody from the older parts of the family... but really," he finished with another shrug, "not many people in my family are good at those, so only like two or three more people."

Utsuho nodded, understanding. "Hmm, alright then! I'm kinda looking forward to seeing what's after all these speeches. And you still need to introduce me to your parents after them, too!" Oh, yeah. That was still a thing.

"No problem. I'm sure they'll love you! Almost as much as I do~" Pit added, smiling hugely.

Utsuho turned very red at that.

"You sure about that? I'd be surprised if anyone can love me quite as much as you! Even Lady Satori doesn't seem that affectionate, ehehehe...

In response, Pit put down his food, leaned over and gave his fiancee a massive hug.

"I've never been more sure of anything."

Smiling, she hugged back.

And later that day, Cousin Monroe pulled out her usual technological wizardry and the dance floor was set up in no time. Traditionally, the head of the family lead the dancing, but the news of Pit getting hitched had spread so thoroughly around the gathering, the young couple were the ones who took the first dance together. Everyone clapped and cheered as they took the lead on that one Dirty Dancing song that always gets played, and not even a drunken Uncle Kain clotheslining Cousin Boris through the nibbles table could dampen the evening.

Image byTheLolliepopWolf, courtesy of Draco

Pit felt so warm inside, he had to try very hard not to burst into flames.

(Major thanks to RubyChao for helping me with this!)

Belated Introductions

~ZFS Docking Bay, Manhattan, Earth~

If you've ever been stuck in an airport waiting for anything at all, then you don't need to go to the ZFS Docking Bay around the middle of April. It's pretty much that, but worse, because so many people are trying to get their reservations for the ZFS King of Beasts checked out, or buy last-minute tickets to ensure they at least get some kind of a bed to watch the stars go by on. The result is a cacophony of humans, aliens and more forming tidal waves instead of lines, and a staff and service straining under the weight of it all.

Which may have had something to do with the annoyance displayed by a certain pair of angels.

"Bloody security checks!" snapped Dirk, looking as though he dearly wants to punch somebody.

"I know, right?" groaned Pit as he hauled his own suitcase along behind him, one hand running through his hair. "The length they took, you'd think those guys had nothing better to do!" As he spoke, he permitted himself a glance upwards, surveying the irresponsibly massive timetable hanging over the luggage conveyers. Whilst many other flights and ships, headed to many other destinations, were present at this bustling airport, the angel's eyes immediately flickered to the biggest LED display at the top, and relief washed over him as he read what was tattooed upon it like spilled orange juice on a dark tablecloth.

"Thank Palutena," he breathed, "we're still on time."

"Ugh, and a good thing too," grumbled his twin, giving a sharp yank on his own suitcase as it lagged behind on the tiles. "I need to rest my fucking feet right now, I've been on them all day.."

"Well, here's our chance," came the response as the white-winged angel pointed towards the departure seating area to the left. Whilst the majority of the metallic benches were filled with holidaymakers of varying size, shape and shades of blue, by sheer luck he'd managed to find two of them close to the main plaza area, and immediately both brothers made an immediate beeline for them, moving so quickly you'd be forgiven for thinking they'd found water in a desert. As one, they flung themselves onto the unoccupied seats in a mad scramble, eventually sinking down into them with contended sighs as they took the weight off their aching feet.

"Much better," was Dirk's evaluation, and he immediately reached into a pocket and yanked out his 3DS, flipping it open to be greeted with where he'd left off on his game. Pit was quick to follow by pulling out a gadget of his own, but not a games console of any kind - a small, tablet-like device with earphones, which he immediately popped into his ears before tapping the screen. Noticing the movement, Dirk turned to observe his brother, and one eyebrow quirked upward as he observed the swirling pattern of yellow, black and white appearing on the screen - one that he had become recently familiar with.

"Dude?" he quizzed. "Right now?"

"Yes, right now," was the response. "I mean, what else can I do after enduring being patted down for that amount of time?" With another press, Pit conjured up a menu upon the screen and began eagerly scrolling through the options, searching for something that would soothe his annoyance and stress just right on this occasion.

Dirk shifted uneasily in his seat, a little disturbed. "I dunno, bro. You hear some stuff about the Ministry back in Ireland, and how they got the funding to do all this."

"Alright, I'll give you that their methods weren't exactly sound." Pit briefly looked up from his task to fix his brother with a reassuring grin. "But trust me, this new treatment thing's done me nothing but good. Even you had to admit that me not complaining so much about my workload was a nice change for once!"

Dirk permitted himself a small, sardonic chuckle at this, but said nothing, and Pit promptly returned to his device. And as the faint strains of the annoyingly-bouncy jingle filtered out through the older brother's earphones as he set about his unusual form of stress relief, the younger Pitbro looked around the airport, noting the variety of people that pass him by. A small smile passeds over his face as a realisation cameto him, one that, whilst not relevant to their earlier discussion, gives him something of a petty victory over his brother nonetheless.

He doesn't have to wait to meet his girlfriend.

Meanwhile, at another part of the airport, seating arrangements were the least of Beck's concerns.

"Mo-om," he groaned for the umpteenth time that day, "leave my hair alone!"

"For goodness sake, Beck," huffed Melody as she diligently raked the comb through her son's mullet, "you're acting like I'm trying to scalp you! I'm not Tomahawk Man, alright? And besides," she added, ignoring the uncomfortable feeling of the boy's wiggling against her body, "do you want to end up with hair like your father's?"

Rock, standing a little way off, couldn't help but smile at the scene, knowing full well the discomfort his son was undergoing. But he wasn't above interjecting into the conversation: "Trust me, son, you don't want helmet-hair. None of the girls like a man who resembles a rejected Dragon Ball Z character."

"Do I look like I'm going on a blind date, dad?" whined Beck, almost yowling as the comb once again swept through his hair like a shark on the prowl. With a desperate grunt and one final kick of the legs, the young android finally succeeded in breaking out of the cage of his mother's arms, dropping out of the air and landing with a thump on both feet. Turning back, the boy shot a glare of annoyance up at his mother, who responded by sticking her tongue out at him in mockery of his childish behaviour.

"Look, I'm clean and neat now," grumbled Beck in response. "Can we get a seat now?"

At this, Melody made an exaggerated show of thinking very hard about it, putting one hand on her chin in a theatrical manner. "I don't knooooow~," she chimed, almost musically. "Are you sure you went over your list of things to pack?"

"Yes, mom!" Beck could have screamed at this point - the amount of torture inflicted on him this entire day was starting to tell on his nerves. Whenever he'd pictured his upcoming holiday on the ZFS, he pictured toys galore, a swimming pool and, most importantly of all, gormless and unsuspecting bad guys and goons to pummel senseless as proof of his cutting-edge tech. None of those fantasies involved being constantly harassed by his parents just to make very much sure he'd packed extra pairs of underpants, and he was rapidly starting to lose patience.

Fortunately for him, Melody simply laughed at his exasperation. "Just kidding, Beck, just kidding!"

It was about then that Rock checked his watch, and his eyes bugged out as he saw just what time it was.

"Jeez! Melody, honey, we'd better get going - we'll be late for our reservation otherwise!" His cry alerted Melody to the situation, who glanced up at the clock on the wall to confirm jjst what her husband had said. On seeing what the time was, she too goggled in surprise at the late hour, and then, thinking quickly, dropped to her knees to say a few final words to Beck.

"Alright, son," she began, and here rattled off her last instructions so quickly that it was a wonder that Beck was able to keep up with them. "Remember-to-wear-a-clean-shirt-every-day-and-don't-forget-to-wipe-your-face-every-morning-like-your-grandfather-told-you-and-make-sure-you-change-your-bed-and-ring-me-once-a-day-and-don't-eat-too-many-sweets-before-bedtime-also-try-to-be-civil-to-your-uncle-even-when-he-starts-putting-on-the-glittery-jumpsuit-okay-love-you-have-a-good-time-bye!" And without waiting for Beck to reply she gave him a farewell peck on the cheek and half-sprinting in the direction of the exit, Rock following closely behind.

Beck waved until they were out of sight, then sighed and turned back to the cafe.

Jewel Man lowered the coffee and shot him a smirk.

"Don't worry too much," he croomed. "I'm sure you and I can manage by ourselves~"

At the back of his A.I. Core, Beck groaned.

~A Military Camp, Undisclosed Location, Porphyrion~

 "You mean, you're going alone?"

"That is correct," replied the Tactician nonchalantly, as he pushed a rather bulky-looking book into place in his backpack. The two others at the entrance of his tent - a bulky-looking, pimple-faced knight and a less bulky, but nonetheless intimidating brunette woman - gazed at him with astonishment, his frankness and seeming indifference leaving them at a brief loss for words.

"But... we're talking Orvance here!" cried the woman. "That place where they had that big war among the Star People, when the Festival was happening! There's gonna be trouble again, mark my words - there's never any good news when they get involved!"

"That's right," piped up the man, his armour clinking as he shuffled his feet to a better standing position. "That, and Dragonus is gonna be passing over the place. You can see it even from here," and at this he raised an armoured hand to point at the huge, floating mass that was visible in the sky, it's size apparent even from where they were. "You know what they say about what happens when it comes over a kingdom - Dragon Skies and all that."

The silver-haired man looked up from his packing, smiling up at his comrades. But it's a small and strained smile - not only a sad one, but also one that looks awkward and forced. The overall effect is that of someone who's read about smiling in books, but has a bit of trouble putting it into practice in a social situation. To him, it's rather like putting on a mask.

"Marco, Celia," he responded warmly, "your concern does you credit. But firstly, I have met the Star People before, as you know well from last year. And, contrary to popular opinion, they were as hospitable, friendly and accommodating as the nearest innkeeper at any establishment of our country you care to name." As he completed the sentence, he turned back to his packing, managing to slip a paper folder into a gap between books, before throwing the lid over its contents.

"Secondly," he added with a grunt as he struggled with the clip, "this is something I must undertake alone. Despite our best efforts as a team, we have come no closer as to solving the mystery of my identity - even my name remains unknown to me. I can only conclude, therefore, that my working apart from the group is the only way to efficiently and decisively solve this puzzle, one that has been hanging over my head all of my life."

An exasperated huff left Celia, the blonde hearing perfectly well what her comrade is saying but refusing to believe it. She quickly rounded upon Marco, looking to vent her frustrated disbelief on something else, and the taller knight actually shrank back at her expression of annoyance. She may have been only an archer, but there was a good reason for that - people fleeing from her temper made better targets.

"Tell him, Marco," she snapped, pointing at the robed man as he growled uncharacteristically at his uncooperative luggage. "Tell him this is a stupid idea and he's going to get hurt again."

Marco blinked, a little slow on the uptake. "Why? You just said it yourself. Besides," he added, with an almost defiant tone to his voice, "he can hold his own. He's got that magic book, remember?"

"Oh, yes," cried Celia sarcastically, throwing her hands up into the air. "Because that worked out so well the last time he left our company! Oh, he ended up with a bandaged head and a dire need for a new change of clothes, but it doesn't matter because this is something he needs to do himself!"

"Now, look, sis," Marco began to say. But that train of thought was interrupted by the click of a rucksack stop finally locking together. The two warriors turned to find the Tactician, with a triumphant cry at having bested the strap, hoisting the bag onto his shoulders, shifting it's weight into a comfortable position on his back. Celia merely rolled her eyes at the scene, her brother by contrast offering no input as the shorter man reached for the holdall by his sleeping bag, hoisting it up before walking towards them.

"I have already handed in my Absence of Duty notice," he announceed as he emerged from the tent into the late morning sunlight, "so the general knows what I'm doing. And with any luck, I'll only be a day's travel or so away from the garrison you are all moving to. I know this seems an inconvenient arrangement, but believe me when I say I have this all planned out with the least amount of inconvenience. And now, I really must be going, or I will be late for the opening ceremony at this rate."

He turns, took two steps forward, and bounced off somebody with an "Oof!" of surprise.

"No, you're not." Celia barred his waY, hands on her hips and face stern - she was the obstacle he'd collided with. "I've explained this to you until I'm blue in the face, but it's obviously not getting through that thick skull of yours. So I'll say it again - you have a duty to you King and-"

"Oh, dear," groaned Marco, placing one gloved hand upon his forehead. This was his sister on the starting line of what he liked to call "Lecture Mode". Everyone in the camp was familiar with this, where she poured out her mind and opinion on something or someone and would only stop until some other bodily function, like hunger or the need to piss took over. It was usually directed at some soldier or other who'd offended her in some way, and men and women alike dreaded to hear the moment when the archer got into full swing, ranting at the top of her voice at whatever unfortunate soul had invoked her wrath on this occasion. At any moment, it seemed as though the Tactician was going to be that somebody copping an earful from her.

Fortunately for Marco, she never got that far.

"Tace."

It was one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it spells, a mere flash of the eyes and a hazing of the air that would otherwise go unnoticed. But the effect was dramatic - Celia's voice instantly cut out, not even a whisper coming from her mouth as her incoming lecture was stalled by surprise. Her slender brow knitted in confusion as she silently worked her mouth and jaw, at first unable to figure out what had happened, before catching sight of the stern yet knowing look upon the magician's face. Realization hit her like a ton of bricks, and she immediately began launching into what would have no doubt been an expletive-filled tirade at her fellow commander for pulling such a cheap trick, had she the voice to convey it.

Unfortunately, the silencing spell's effect meant that it merely looked like she was pulling a very convincing impression of an angry chimpanzee, arms flailing and face contorting like putty. Unable to help himself, Marco promptly burst out laughing at his sister's predicament, his knees giving out as he fell onto his rear with a clattering of armour. Whereupon the furious Celia rounded upon him, screamed something inaudible in his general direction and then turned and stormed away towards the camp's medical tent, needing only cartoon steam clouds pouring from her ears to complete the image.

A larger smile of amusement played on the Tactician's face as he watched Marco, still chuckling, pull himself up onto his feet, dusting himself down.

"Dicing with death, eh, mate?" the knight joked as he put one arm around the smaller man's shoulders. "You know how much she hates that spell!"

The silver-haired mage's smile widened into a genuine grin, his usual stoic demeanor sliding aside in the company of someone he was comfortable with. "Why else would I employ it so often?" he rejoined, in a hearty tone that matched his friend's own jocular mannerisms. "I will admit, however, that for a moment I was afraid she would actually strike me!"

"No need to worry about that," assured Marco. "She's all bark and no bite - always has been." Disengaging from his companion as he spoke, the knight quickly turned and began walking in the direction of the medical tent, no doubt in order to observe Celia receiving yet another dose of treatment for the spell. As he did so, however, he turned and called over his shoulder, raising his voice to be heard over the clatter and humming as the morning camp activities got properly underway.

"I'd clear out now, if I was you - she's gonna have some choice words aimed your way!"

The Tactician nodded, knowing all too well what those words would more than likely be. Then, without waiting to see if Marco would succeed in delaying his irate sister, he turned and quickly began to make tracks, walking at a very brisk pace that seemingly ignored the weight of both his holdall and the rucksack he carried with him. It wasn't long before he'd put a very good distance between himself and the camp - enough so that by the time Celia came seeking her usual brand of petty revenge, he'd be long one and she'd have to give up on the whole thing.

In his mind's eye, the rolling hills of Wensdale mingled and merged with the shining world of the Star People, and a whistful sigh escaped his parted lips.

It really had been too long.

~The Barrier, Northern Porphyrion~

The morning sun was just beginning to rise over the Barrier. It's bright fire blossomed on the horizon and tinted the packed snow, sparkling golden under red-daubed skies dotted with dark grey clouds. A shaft of light pierced through the thin veil of mist, striking the glacial ice and throwing up a hazy rainbow into the air that shimmered like heat haze. Yet there was no warmth to be found, for the driving wind carried with it the bitter cold of the north, and flurries of snow danced across the ground in freezing white sheets.

This didn't seem to bother the lone figure standing on the southernmost edge of the glacier, though.

Eyes squinting against the morning sun, Ymir the Tusk casually uncorked the stein he clutched in one gloved paw and brought it to his mouth for a swig. It had been two days since he'd begun his trek - two days since the epic bar brawl at the Grouchy Walrus that had seen the end of Markus the Mighty, the self-proclaimed strongest fighter in all his village. Tables had been smashed, glasses had been shattered over heads, and in the end yet another foolish challenger had been laid out on the beer-soaked floor, the patronage toasting the Tuskarr's victory. The ale he gulped down at this moment was a souvenier from the barkeep himself, and Ymir had been more than happy to accept it.

Yet there was one thirst he had failed to quench - the thirst for battle. Markus had been a warm-up, as far as he'd been concerned, and it seemed nowadays that there was nobody left to challenge him, nobody to match him in the arena. The old champions were gone, and all the new blood springing up was impatient and headstrong, with none of the respect for the old ways or appreciation for a hearty scrap. None of them cared for the meaning of the fight anymore - they only bothered to learn the fighting arts in order to boost their egos or seek petty revenge on class bullies or what have you. For a while, Ymir had felt a bit dejected.

But now, as he finished his drink and replaced the cork, his gaze was set on the far horizon, where the vague outline of towns and cities upon rolling hills could be seen through the mist. That, the barkeeper had told him, was Orvance - the same kingdom that saw the great War of the Stars but a year ago, where warriors of untold and unparalleled strength clashed for the fate of the kingdom, and indeed, the entire planet. Admittedly, the betusked brawler knew very little about the nature of stars, other than they served as useful guides on dark nights when a seal hunt had gone disastrously wrong.

But fighting... now, there was a siren call he couldn't refuse.

With a low chuckle, Ymir stepped down from the glacier, in that one movement crossing the borders between the North and Orvance itself. And as he continued his long trek south, the question crossed his mind of what Orvancian ale tasted like.

~Castle Bloodaxe, The Enchanted Forest~

It is a well-known and popular fact that Orcs do not form armies. The word "army" implies the presence of discipline, co-ordination and tactical aptitude that was beyond their simple, ale-addled minds. Ask an Orc to co-ordinate a team of footballers and he'd take one blank look at the blackboard before putting their fist through it, then charging out to piledrive the opposing team into the pitch. A better term for their military gatherings would be "rabble", since despite the numbers they still very much behaved like a crowd of hooligans on the lookout for windows to smash and cars to steal.

This particular rabble, emerging from the forests that surrounded Castle Bloodaxe, thought they were going to have a good time of it. The building they were approaching on looked virtually defenseless - their scouts had reported not a sign of archers on the battlements or guardsmen on the gates, and not even a single trace of a patrol had been detected on the surrounding land. Not one of the greenskins could believe their seemingly-amazing fortune, and had immediately clamored en masse to begin the day's pillaging in style. Had they the brains to remember just whose lands they were invading, then they probably not have been so cocky.

As it was, they had gotten just onto the third verse of their bone-chilling war chant before the portcullis flew open like it had been stabbed up the bum.

"HA'WAAAAAAY THA' LAAAAAADS!"

The poor bastards never saw it coming - the green and orange blur zooming out of the doors moved almost too fast for the eye to track. The front line of goblins was sent flying backwards in an instant, crashing into the burlier Orcs at the back and bowling them over like ninepins. The archers on the left flank immediately lost whatever morale they could claim to have, throwing down their weapons and bolting into the forest screaming. As for the ram-carrying siege trolls, they were so slow on the uptake that by the time they realized just what had happened, half of them were already unconscious from a hefty boot to the skull.

In a matter of minutes, it was all over - hardly a battle so much as a one-sided curbstomping. The rabble was in dismay, half of them in flight and the rest of them either unconscious or groaning from their fractured bones. The goblins were nowhere to be found, the catapults were wrecked shambles and the sole dragon they thought to bring along was tangled among the trees, whimpering in confusion. And amongst the confusion of it all stood the red-haired, axe-wielding barbarian princess who had caused the ruckus in the first place.

As the prone Orcs looked up at her, terrified and bewildered, Barbara Bloodaxe dusted her skirt down and flashed her trademark gap-toothed grin around the scene.

"Sorry te lace ye aal laak that," she called out in her trademark thick accent, "but Aa'm i' a bit o' a pelt. Star Festival's gannin' on doon Orvance whey, and Aa'm clammin' mightily fer a gud ale an' roast far ahint yon fells! Bide a few wee months, an' Aa'll be howway hyem 'afore ye can put a cuddie oop Blackwell Rock!"

And with that, the woman hoisted her axe over one shoulder and sped off into the forest, through a gap in the tress that marked the begginings of the cart trail. The Orcs took one look at her retreating form, hair flying in the wind, and decided that maybe the imp who'd wanted to start a band instead wasn't such a moron after all.

~The Drunken Gryphon, Wensdale~

Tavish is probably in a good mood. The Star Festival is coming round once more, meaning customers would soon be coming in to sample his huge menu of food and drink and, above all, make him huge wodges of cash. The Star People are returning in droves to share technology, recipes and more, and their unique brand of entertainment would inevitably draw in even more people from far and wide. And those people would need feeding, beds to stay in and an opportunity to get utterly smashed whilst shouting at the scrying glass. So yes, he's most likely in a good mood.

So in all the excitement of getting his tavern ready for the big tourist rush, he may not notice one of the floorboards shifting.

"Kero..." 

Dirkmas 2 Epilogue: Presents

"Hey, bro."

"Yes, Dirk?"

"CHRISTMAAAAAAAAAAAS!"

"Pfffft, I know, I know. Come on, let's go open our presents already~!"

"Race you to open them all first!"

-------

"Hey, Pit! I hope everything's going fine!

"You gave me that ring, so I thought I'd get you something in return... I made it with the help of a couple friends, and I hope you like it...

"And I can't wait to see you again! I promise I'll be there on the spaceship the very day you come back! I love you, Merry Christmas, and say hi to Dirk for me!"

-------

"D'aaaaaw, that's brilliant~!"

"It really is. And look, she got me a third-eye pendant! Just like the one she wears!"

"Aw, that's awesome! Wear it when you go out on dinner dates with her!"

"Sure will! Oh, Dirk, just remembered - you never told me what you were getting Josephine!"

"...Weeeeell..."

-------

"Yo, Josephine,

"I know you;re fond of ridiculously huge or OP guns, so I got you this:

"It's called the Electrodriver. It shoots shurikens and lightning. That is literally all you need to know.

"Have an awesome Christmas, and love you loads!

"Dirky xxx"

-------

"..."

"shut up"

"Pffffft, that's our Dirky!"

"SHUT UP"

"Bahahahahahah~!"

Monster Mash: Round 2 Fight 1 - Giant Octopus vs. Mega Python

Boys and girls, ladies and other- Okay, fine we'll get to the point. It's The Monster Mash 199X, everybody.

So we procrastinated. Sue us. But really, it was the Japanese's fault. They said they'd have Daidako ready by the week, but then a whole two months passed by and fuck all happened. So yeah, blame those procrastinating fucks. Can't trust them to do anything. Also, blame those superstitious Indians for not letting their god-emperor out of his holy temple on time - they had to wait for all these wierd mystical signs and have the planets be all perfectly aligned before they even thought of sending out their massive snake to do remotely anything. Wackos.

So yeah, here it is. The one you've all been waiting for. The one we've had to bribe and threaten and even *gulp* coerce people into staging on the shores of Ibiza, by the newly created Vishnu power plant, for the sake of your entertainment. The one we call...

Connor Hardy here, and right now I'm circling above the New Tethys Ocean, hoping to get a glimpse of- JESUS CHRIST, THAT WAS A TENTACLE!

--------

Yeah, we kind of arrived in the middle of something, didn't we? Barely have the cameras been trained onto the potential battlefield than the water explodes in a churning, frothing mass of pain and rage - it seems either the contenders have been released slightly early from their confinement or we arrived slightly late. In any case, Raja and Daidako have wasted no time in lunging at each other the moment they entered the ring, and the spectator boats forming a circle around the water are being tossed this way and that by the furious wakes both contendors create in their struggle to kill each other. The spectators don't seem to care that much, however, hopped up on tequila and coconut milk and whooping with every lurch their conveyances take.

As of now, it seems Daidako has the advantage over his ophidavian opponent. Despite being part anaconda, Raja is still mostly a land animal, and these strange, salty waters without any ground to keep anchored on have proven detrimental to his swimming ability. The much swifter, evolved Kraken has taken advantage of this, ambushing him from the side and winding several tentacles about his upper section and trying to pull him in closer to bite through to his spine and cripple him. But as anyone who's tried to hold a bar of soap in the bathtub will know, it's not an easy task - his suckers can't grip easily on the smooth scales, and the python is thrashing around like a devish, trying to throw his oppressor off of him. It's a battle of attrition - who will tire of this struggle first?

As it turns out, neither. The sacred serpent, his lungs burning from lack of air, knows full well what will happen if he keeps up this pointless struggle, and he's also realised the multi-tentacled menace has forgotten about the rest of his tail. With a muffled growl of effort, spraying bubbles from his mouth, Mega Python manages to twist the good remainded of his tail around in the water, winding several loops of his 69-foot-long body around the Kraken's cranium and tail and squeezing down. Startled, Japan's mascot monster boggles his eyes at the crushing grip, and several of his tentacles inadvertently release their captive in a spasmodic reflex.

Feeling his adversary release his hold on him, Raja whips his head around in the deadly return-stroke, but not to bite. Not just yet, anyway - he first takes the opportunity to clear the surface of the water, gasping in fresh oxygen as the startled squid flails in his grasp, failing to bring it's advanced mental faculties into play to regain control. Only once it's lungs are full of air does the serpent dive again, this time sinking his teeth into the puply flesh of his Japanese enemy. He doesn't even know where the windpipe of his captive is, let alone if it has one, but he's not about to relinquish any sort of hold that he has on his foe.

Daidako's eyes roll madly in their sockets as pain racks through it's body. The hybrid horror's brain is frantically racking itself for a solution to this conundrum - an opponent that's pretty much everywhere at once, causing pain from every direction. His tentacles alone won't be able to reach it, the grip is too strong to be dislodged by ramming into corals and capsising the ships around him is not an option. The Kraken's arms flail about like ribbons in the wind, slapping at the sea floor in a desperate attempt to find something to get the tenacious Mega Python off of him.

Then a tentacle grips something that isn't corals. It's covered in slimy weed, but it's made of wood, and juts out of the seabed at an awkward angle. A memory flashes through the cephalopod's genetically-bolstered braincells - accounts of old longships, passing through the straits of Gibraltr, capsising due to unknown and presumably extraordinary circumstances. In desperation, Japan's finest fisherman tightens his grip on the mystery object and yanks as hard as he can.

His hearing muffled by the water, Raja doesn't even register the rotted hulk of a sunken Viking warship arcing towards him until it's too late. There is an almighty thump as at least a tonne of rotten wood and overgrown corals impacts with the back of his skull. Dust and debris go flying, clouding his already-starry vision with a smokescreen, and as the ship splinters apart the jagged edges piece and rip at his skin, opening fresh cuts. Jarred by the vicious blow, the provoked python reflexively releases his grip on Daidako, floating in the water with jaw hanging open.

Silently, but clearly relieved that his gambit has worked, Daidako carefully eases himself out of the looping coils and jettisons himself a little distance away from India's god-emperor to appraise the situation. The stunned Mega Python is suspened in the briny waters of the Mediterranean, completely limp and immobile - obviously unconcious and completely unaware of his situation. In this state, it would be completely trivial to finish him off, which is why the mighty mollusc isn't going to be taking any chances on this. Brandishing the remains of the ship like a drunk brandishes a broken bottle, the Kraken moves in for the kill.

And that's when Raja strikes. There is a blur of golden scales, and then pain racks Daidako's mind once again as teeth clamp into his armed appendage with vice-like force. Then a twist, a jerk and a ripping of flesh, and now the arm is singing to the bottom of the ocean, trailing blood as it spasmodically twitches and jerks, still clinging onto the broken boat. A flash of cold, cunning eye in the water tells all - the sacred serpent was only shamming, and now is ready to take advantage of the squid's shock and dish out an even bigger counterattack. With lightning speed barely hampered by the water, the hallowed horror twists and flexes in the water, his entire body lashing out like a whip and slamming the still-reeling Kraken through the water.

Only by a supreme effort does Japan's Finest stall himself in the water, preventing himself from smashing into the sharp corals below, but now he has to contend with a massive snake zooming towards him like a battering ram. With one arm missing and bleeding profusely, Daidako realise he's in no condition to take a head-on assault anymore, and needs to change up his tactics. With that thought in mind, the demon of the deep opens his beak wide, belching out a thick cloud of oily ink as he simultaneously jettisons away from his pursuer. The ruse works - Raja screeches to a halt, blinded by the ink and thrashing about to try and clear his murky vision.

By the time the ink has dissapated, Kraken is a very long way away, and the God of India just manages to catch a glimpse of his tentacles vanishing down a long tunnel, just in the distance. With a muffled hiss of anger, the Mega Python gives chase, sinuous body weaving through the brine of the Mediterranean as he pursues his adversary. Eager to retalliate further for the mollusc's blasphemous desecration of his holy form, he slides down the tunnel after his opponent, vanishing from the view of the underwater cameras placed by Gaiacorp around the arena for this purpose.
 

What neither Daidako knows nor Raja cares is that the tunnel is not a natural construct. It is the waste outlet pipe for a massive hydroelectric power plant, dedicated to providing energy to the entire west coast of Italy as the war takes it's toll on imports of oil from the British-owned North Sea Territories. On the side, it also gives life to the production of the terrible war machines that rampage across all of Eastern Europe. Raja himself was present at the ribbon-cutting ceremony, although right now he could care less about that detail. And as the crowd on their ships turn to their television sets, the security cameras within the facility flicker on, beaming their signals to every vessel on the waters.

The fight is going indoors.

--------
 

It isn't long before Daidako realises he's lost.

Going into the tunnel seemed like a smart idea at the time. After all, it's an octopus' natual reaction to slip through small spaces when pursued by a predator. But the cave that the tunnel has opened up into... feels wrong. It's too big, and there are so many twisting, featureless channels that taper this way and that, it's near-impossible to tell if he's somewhere new or just going in circles. He can hear the hum and clank of machinery above him, vaguely aware that each metallic report is the work of something man-made, and the confusing mass of noise is upsetting his sense of direction even further. Now he's trapped in a big, circular pool overhung with walkways - part of the water-based cooling system used to keep the production machines running optimally.

The mammoth mollusc, in desperation, tries running his tentacles along the walls, looking to memorize bumps and imperfections in the smooth metal. But the scouring action of the water and the chemicals within it have eroded the walls into near-perfect flatness, and the Kraken soon realises that no potential landmarks exist with which to map his way around the facility. With all the identical channels stretching away into the distance, it doesn't take a genius to figure out that this is a perfect place for an ambush, and Daidako shudders imperceptibly as he turns, looking to head off to somewhere that isn't here.

And meets Raja coming the other way.

The Mega Python knows the facility like the back of his tail, having examined the blueprints thoroughly before attending the ribbon-cutting ceremony. In the end, tracking and cornering the giant squid through the water treatment canals was a piece of cake, and the ophidavian ogilarch's patience is rewarded with another ripped off limb. Blood pours into the water from the stump once again, and Daidako writhes in agony as he is divested of yet another major limb, cursing mentally at being caught off-guard a second time. Another smack of the tail sends him jettisoning out of the water and into a lare support column, shattering it in an explosion of ceramic and steel. A jagged edge tears a gill flap as the stunned octopus flops back into the water with a mighty splash, dazed and bewildered.

But Raja is not yet finished with his attack - he is quick to capitalise on his foe's shock again. Rather than simply trying to constrict his enemy, the supersized snake wheels around in the water, dropping the severed tentacle from his mouth as he goes, and latches onto the octopoid's side. His fangs manage to close over one of the Kraken's gill apetures, puncturing the delicate flesh and shutting off the vital breathing tube from the water that the transgenic terror needs to breathe. At the same time, a loop of coil sweeps through the water and slings itself around Daidako's head, squeezing down upon-

aaaaaaagh

With his brain being compressed like air in a deoderant can and unable to breathe, Daidako goes a little bit mental. Instantly, his siphon is jettisoning water like a frat boy jettisons his stomach contents after a weekend bender, causing him to rocket around the water treatment pool and bounce off the walls like a fleshy pinball in a very creepy arcade. Steel bends and buckles from the assault, and delicate systems hidden behind the panels are flattened and wrecked by the squid's weight, setting off alarms across the facility. But the tenacious python doesn't let go, continuing to dig his fangs in deeper instead.

Eyes rolling, tentacles flailing, rapidly running out of breath because brething just through one nostril is a bad idea, the Kraken knows that things are pretty grim for him. If he can't shake off Raja soon, then he's going to suffocate or bleed out into the water, and the Indians will be sailing towards the Monster Mash championship. His vision, blurring with pain and fear, is briefly filled with visions of dissapointed men in white coats, with chefs eagerly sharpening their knives, of children sobbing into their shirts as their mascot fails to uphold their dreams and expectations. Panic sets in briefly as the mammoth mascot desperately tries to think of what to do.
 

Then his lower tentacles brush against something cold and smooth.

Neurons and synapes planted deep within his brain, a brain that pulses with cold and rutheless intelligence, fire into action.

The next thing Raja knows, he's smacking head-first into a wall, splintering the metal, before being dragged upwards by a powerful, iron-clad grip. His form breaks the surface, but it's barely any relief to his lungs, because now the world is spinning around him as if he's stuck in an oversized tumble-dryer, cold air whistling past his ear canals. Daidako may have lost his two major limbs, but his genius mind has reminded him that he has at least eight more, and it's two of these that have clutched hold of the Mega Python's tail, swinging him around the room like a hammer at the Scottish Olympics (before they disbanded several years ago) and crashing him into walls, smashing him through catwalks...

...and into the broken pillar from earlier.

For the first time since we've seen him, Daidako makes a noise - a horrific screech of triumph, wheezing out of his torn and bitten gill apetures, that echoes around the empty facility. Dropping the brusied carcass of the once-mighty Raja into the sea, the Kraken turns and begins the long swim back to his native Osaka waters, unaware and uncaring of the reactions his victory has caused. As the Japanese bay with glee for their champion's success and the Indians mourn the death of their once glorious god, the headless corpse of the Mega Python slowly sinks to the bottom of the flooded factory, trailing blood  as it does so.

No sooner has it touched the metallic floor of the water treatment than the first hagfish, lurking in the recesses of the water filtration system, slither from the gloom.

THE KRAKEN WINS!

And there you have it, folks! The Japanese are heading straight into the Semi-Finals of the Monster Mash, and with a victory they've rightly earned! But the fun and excitement isn't over yet, sports fans, for next up comes a battle that's sure to match this one in proportion and ferocity! With an entire country's worth of smuggled diamonds on the line, it all comes down to a battle between military might and steroid-enhanced strength in THE ENCOUNTER IN THE EVERGLADES! Coming soon to The Monster Mash 199X!

Oh, and don't forget to collect your winnings from your local betting booths! You'll need them for your Black Friday rush!
 

-----

And now for something completely different.
 

-----

The navigator was very nervous indeed.

This was something of a problem, for two reasons. Firstly, he was supposed to be guiding the spaceship on it's present course, and in this profession being nervous was likely to result in catastrophe. Secondly, he was a Vulturite, a native of Nibiru and species famed for brutality, depravity and various other unpleasant traits. They weren't supposed to be nervous, or even afraid of anything that the universe could throw at them - not even such wonderful threats as the Daleks or the Martians would make them bat an eyelid. Anything a race could do, a Vulturite would do better and then brag about it to his next door neighbour.

And yet this one was trembling in his seat, bile in his throat as his eyes darted back and forth across the screen, trying to focus on the information readouts and so on. His fingers twitched as he tapped away at on-screen buttons and dials, and a fine layer of sweat stood out on his feathered forehead. A sense of ominous dread was sitting in his chest like a block of ice, one that kep growing with every passing minute - most likely to do with the nature of the mission that he was undertaking, as well as the current destination he was guiding the ship towards. Whilst he was not a person to speak his mind, a quality that was probably instrumental in getting the job in the first place, he was more than ready to admit by now that he was ready to soil himself, had he not already done so twice.

For what seemed like the thousandth time that trip, he glanced over his wiry shoulder to observe the arrangement behind him. Most of the ship's command bridge was in shadow, as it's occupant was quite particular about light levels, so he could barely make out the outline of the throne and the person sitting in it. What little he could see, however, made him shudder - a large, heaped mass of something that lay about the footwell of the seat, catching what little light there was in periodic glints and sparkles and occasionally shifted with a dry rustling noise. Swallowing audibly, the Vulturite turned back to the screen, trying hard to look as though he hadn't lost track of his work and was just minding his own business.

Unfortunately, he tried too hard.

"What a beatifiul planet," came a silken purr, and the navigator's down feathers stood on end. "So much more colourful than home."

Too late did the Vulturite hear the scraping of scale on metal, and then something cold, dry and strong looped twice around his body and yanked him from his seat too fast for him to even cry out. Flailing madly for a moment in his panic, the navigator found himself drawn into the shadows towards the throne, then swung around to face the great window that made up an entire wall of the room and yawned outwards into space. His thin, dry eyes blinked once as he took in the view presented before him - a great orb of blue and green, frosted with swirls of white clouds and slowly growing larger within the window frame, filling the room with a dull glow.

Then he tensed as a claw, thin as a razor, drew itself along the side of his face. There was breath in his ear, and he winced at the icy chill of it.

"Tell me, navigator," came the voice. "What do they call this planet? Ee-yarth?" The syllables of the last word came thickly, as if they were too big for the mouth forming them, but that tiny detail did noting to reassure the navigator, who was now aware that everyone else in the room was watching him. Most likely they were as frightened as he was. Some colleagues.

The Vulturite gulped. "I... I believe it's pronounced 'Earth', your grace," he croaked, well aware of how dry the inside of his beak was.

A frustrated huff blew bast his ear. "Really? But it has an 'A' in it. Oh, well," hissed the speaker, shifting in her seat a little, "I shall just keep on calling it Ee-yarth anyway. Shan't I?"

"Y-y-yes, your grace." The navigator realised he was nodding furiously out of reflex, and managed to stop himself.

"And how much longer until we breach the atmosphere?" The claw had stopped at his neck. Not good...

"In ab-b-bout eleven Rels, your grace."

"Perfect."

And then there was a twist and a jerk, and the world span crazily for a brief moment before the unfortunate hand-for-hire impacted beak-first with his own console screen, squawking in pain as his body crumpled and slumped to the ground. Through vision blurred by his latest concussion, he espied a blue glint sliding back into the shadows, and reflexively scrabbled out of the prone position, head swimming with terror and possible brain damage as he returned to his station. Hunching over his screen, he heard a giggle from the corner of his ear, and grimaced.

"My dear," came the voice, low and dangerous. "Your unfortunate death shall soon be avenged. This Ee-yarth is soon about to have a new name..."

A scrape of claws on metal. A glint of fangs.

"Open buffet."

DIRKMAS 2013

COMING SOON...