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.

Steel Komodo's Character Interviews 2014 - The Results

Alright, thank you all for coming back on such short notice.

 

"It would have been better if I hadn't been in the middle of a job. And did you have to bring the Barbarian along?!"

 

"It does feel a little like gloating, no offense meant."

 

"Oh, aye? Yer jest jealous Aa'm in an' yer not~"

 

Yes, yes, calm down. Anyway, it's time to reveal the result of the voting, which I probably should have done earlier but...

 

"But you had forgotten your main characters needed an introduction, heh heh."

 

Correct.

 

Anyway, this is how it works. I roll the tractor, just as JRM does on FYM, except I do it twice. The first result gets a permanent spot on the roster, and the second - the runner-up - will become a FYM regular and minor character. Sound fair enough?

 

 "(The Chief is in agreement.)"

 

Alright, let's do this...

 

Steel Komodo's Character Interviews 2014 - Tusk

Last time on Steel Komodo's Character Interviews...

WHY IS THE WATER COOLER EMPTY D:

We now return to your regularly scheduled programme...

-------

Jesus H. Christ, who forgot to fill up the water cooler?! I swear, when I find the guy responsible for this, I am going to-

Oh. Here comes my next interviewee.

 

 

"Ah, I hope I am not too late, friend!"

 

No, you're just in time. Come on, have a-

 

...you brought beer.

 

"Well, I heard you were in a bit of difficulty! Hah, hah! Fancy a swig?"

 

You, sir, are a lifesaver. Give me that.

 

Aaaaah, that's better. Shall we get this underway, then?

 

"Why not?"

 

Dirkmas 2 Part 2

Last time on Dirkmas...

"Guys," chuckled the angel, "we're going to steal Frosttime.

"And this is how we're gonna do it..."

We now return to your regularly scheduled programme...

-------

Prison Warden Frak was pissed.

It was his default state of being. He'd been pissed when the Dark Angel had been dragged before Her Lady and yelled at, he'd been pissed when he dragged him into the prison level of the ship and threw him in a cell, and right now he was even more pissed thanks to a bottle of Ol Janx Spirit. This was his idea of a good day - fuck all to do but eat and drink, shit and piss, maybe sleep. So there he was, slouched on the break room sofa with a bottle in one hand, a taco in the other and several more bottles scattered about him. This was definitely shaping up to be one of his Best Days Ever.

No, he wasn't fucking going to work! It was Frosttime, for Nibiru's sake! The Independance Feast was coming up, there were medals for his service lying in a dusty desk somewhere and there was still some distilled Hypercider somewhere calling his name! So were some fancy glowy screens he had to watch - who cared? Nobody ever broke out of the cells on their own, because nobody in the universe seemed smart enough to figure out how to break Skaro Magnalocks! So there was no reason to pay attention to the screens, and every reason to get drunk, as he was doing now.

Yes, the Vulturite decided as he took another swig of Ol Janx. This was a fucking brilliant day. And he was, in all senses of the word, pissed beyond belief.

So he didn't notice when the door to the break room broke open and the crowd of former prisoners stormed in. Nor did he react when he was picked up in the claw of an enraged Macra, who passed him to a seething Yujata, who hauled him into the arms of an irate Grey, who flung him into the grip of a fuming Taurian, who dumped him at the feet of a llama holding a soldering iron-

"Caaaaaaaarl!"

...Fuck.

-------

Being a chef on a massive Nibirian cruiser was a constant headache.

Head Provisions Officer Daeg could testify to that. He couldn't tell you the number of personel on board the ship off the top of his head - that was all done with computers now. But at a rough estimate, it was close to a hundred people - officers, engineers, navigators, guards and regular soldiers all thrown together in one great big mass of hungry stomachs. Factor in the number of prisoners that were often taken on board, as well as the differing tastes of everybody on the ship and... well, you had long shifts with little sleep, among other things. The roster for worker shifts on these ships were just insane.

Preparing a single massive meal for everyone, however, was a different matter. It was no longer a case of making sure they had enough of one specific thing for Janitor Blun or whoever - now, it was just a matter of quantity. They had the menu planned out perfectly, and all they had to do was ensure that they would have enough to satisfy everyone who wanted one thing or another. On top of that, some of the prisoners were going to feature heavily in the ingredients - the thought of slicing up a helpless Kaled mutant made Daeg cackle with glee, knowing full well it would be one less mouth to feed. And he had to admit, there was a certain joy in perparing all these lavish meals for Her Lady - it allowed him to exercise his craft as a cook more, knowing full well that the rich food would be appreciated for a long time to come, as was the way with festive meals.

So yes, he was feeling quite good today. So good that he didn't think twice before letting the new ameteur cook in to have a crack at the chocolate pudding. So what if he was a wobbly weed of a fledgeling with no sense of balance and an oddly-derformed beak? It would be good experience for him to prepare the desserts for everyone on board, to experience the rush and clamour of the Independance Day Cooking Spree. Nothing could possibly go wrong at this stage, surely! All was going to plan!

Five minutes later, and the kitchen was a graveyard. Soups and sauces formed a veritable oil slick on the ground, with nobody able to stand on their feet for a second without collapsing in a heap. Meats and vegetables of different sizes, shapes and preparations were pasted onto the walls - how they even got there was still a mystery. Globs of pudding and splats of custard were everywhere, as were the unconcious bodies of one or two cooks who hadn't gotten out of the way in time. And in the middle of it all was Daeg, dripping with cranberry sauce, curled up in a pile of mush that was once stuffing and gently weeping for the state of the universe.

And, outside the door, the trio of elves shed their disguise, hopped off each other's shoulders, giggling like lunatics.

-------

"WHAT IS GOING ON?!" screamed Lady Glacia in her throne room.

It seemed like everything had been going according to plan. The food was being prepared, the prisoners were being watched and everything was on schedule. She'd been looking extremely forward to dining on her hated enemy and killer of her husband, and then returning home in triumph and contentment. So when in all the Seven Continents did things suddenly take a turn down into Shitville?! She'd called Head Provisions Officer Daeg for a status update on the condiments, only to recieve hysterical sobbing and half-gibbered explanations and pleas for mercy instead. And then, when alarms had started blaring, she'd turned on the cameras to see her dinner running amok in the lower levels!

Dropping her face into her palms, the Nibirian let out a humongous sigh of irritation. That's what happens, she decided, when you hire Vulturites. In a sense, they hadn't evolved past the carrion-eating, excrement-flinging days before the Annunaki had arrived - despite their newfound proficiency with technology, they were still unbelievably single-minded, selfish and thick. So it was no wonder that things had hit Space Mexico in such a short time as they did, and in all honesty it had only been a matter of time before somebody cocked up. If only it hadn't been now, with Frosttime looming.

There was only one thing for it. As the reptillian princess lifted her face from her palms and gazed upon the Earth, it's serene glow almost taunting her stress and annoyance, the old adage crept through her mind like a spider on the prowl.

"If you want something done right," she hissed to the universe in general, "you do it yourself."

With a fluid, effortless motion, she lifted herself from her throne and slithered out of the room, her scales making only the tinest scraping noises.

-------

Dirk heaved a massive sigh of relief as he watched the assorted alien prisoners file into the escape pods, one by one. The plan so far had been a success - thanks to the Dalek's schematics, he and the others were able to locate the various services on the ship - kitchen, escape pods, engine room, the works. After much debate, it was decided that the five should split into groups to deal with the three different problems presented - namely, getting the prisoners off the ship, ruining the dinner and dealing with Lady Glacia's forces. Dirk had taken up the first responsibility, using Maisy's comb to open the cell doors and ushering the confused creatures and races out.

It hadn't taken long for them to figure out what was going on, and soon they were rampaging through the corridors in the traditional mob mentality, trampling and killing any unfortunate Vulturites that crossed their path. In fact, many of them were clamouring to simply storm the bridge and take out Lady Glacia in one massive mob, and whilst Dirk was not against that idea as a whole, he reasoned that it'd be better overall if they simply got off the ship. And so here he was, watching as Taurians, Greys, Zygons and more filed into the pods and shuttles, ready to fly home.

It wouldn't be much trouble, he'd been reassured. The Dalek had told him the ship eas in a geo-starionary orbit above Earth, and was within range of all the major star systems, so getting home wouldn't be a problem for these assorted aliens. Dirk briefly wondered where that Dalek was right now, then dismissed the thought. It'd be fine, he reasoned. Those overgrown saltshakers were known for tenacity, if nothing else, and it wasn't like it'd be fretting over his progress at all. No need to contact it or anything - there were more pressing concerns right now.

Turning away from the group, the Dark Angel procured a communicator from his pocket - earlier on, he'd cheekily knocked out a pair of Vulturite guards and pilfered these disc-like objects from their ultility belts. Another one had been handed to Merry and, after some fiddling, the two had managed to sync the devices up so they could keep tabs on each other before going their separate ways. Pressing the button, Dirk lifted the disc to his mouth, looking around to make sure he was alone before speaking.

"Merry? How goes the sabotage? Because I'm done up here, and I'll need you to- UMPH!"

He hadn't looked hard enough.

She'd found him.

-------

"Dirk? Dirk?!"

"...No answer! Oh, no, Merry, I think he's in trouble!"

"Calm down, Maisy! Our job's done - all we gotta do is go back and help him!"

"Well, that goes without saying! Come on, you two!"

And with that, the three elves drop their communicator and dash down the corridor, headed back the way they come. In their haste to aid their friend, none of them notive the service elevator sliding into position in the opposite wall, a pinging noise announcing it's arrival onto the floor. If they had, they might have seen that it had just come up from Floor 0 - the engine room, where the vital machinery that kept the ship moving and afloat in the void of space.

As well as the lone Dalek that emerged, triumph in it's eyestalk.

-------

Sine may not have talked much to anyone else about the invisible monster she and Zeph fought, or "That Awful Thing", as she called it. But she can probably still remember when it first attacked, trying to squeeze the life out of her before the Robot Master swooped in and saved her. She described the experience as being "wrapped in a hot, wet washcloth", a comical expression that did nothing to dampen the threat of death by either crushed bones or suffocation looming over her. In short, the way she'd described it indicated that it probably an extremely unpleasant experience.

Dirk would argue that being in the coils of a Nibirian was worse.

Not that I'd reccomend trying it, he mentally added. The experience was probably what an orange goes through in the juicing machine - a horrid, warm pressure from all sides, completely engulfing his body and limbs and tightening with every second. The angel couldn't move so much as a finger, arms locked to his sides by ten-inch-thick ropes of muscle, unable to even pull the trigger on the laser that was still in one hand or kick out against his captor. Not only were his bones beginning to deform from the pressure, but getting breath of any sort was becoming more and more difficult as his lungs were slowly compressed inwards, depleting his air supply little by little.

As the angel grunted in pain, spots flashing in front of his eyes, the face of Lady Glacia descended ino view. He could hear shouts and screams from somwhere far off - had the prisoners been found by Vulturite guards? He hoped they weren't panicking and stampeding right now, or everything would go to shit.

"I have to admit," she hissed, faced inches from Dirk's, "this is new! I haven't had a prison break on my ship for as long as I can remember, and certaintly not a riot this big! Congratulations on making history, Dirk - too bad you won't live long enough to celebrate it!" And a laugh like icicles on a window pane rattled through the corridor.

At any other time, Dirk would have fired back with a witty retort, or at least a simple "shut the fuck up" or similar. However, on this occasion this wasn't an option - the Nibirian had managed to get a loop of her tail around his mouth, holding it shut to stop him from calling out for help. On top of that, it further diminished his ability to breathe, and what little air he could draw in through his nose wasn't enough to diminish the ringing in his ears. So he had to be content with a defiant glare, even as his face began to rapidly turn blue from lack of oxygen.

"It's a shame that you've made a mess of my schedule like this," the princess continued, running a claw across the angel's exposed cheek tauntingly. "But really, all you've done is delay the feat by a day or so. And to me and my loyal subjects, that's no problem at all. All we have to do is round up those pesky escapees of yours and get them preserved, ready for cooking whilst we clean up your mess and get things ready. And as for you..."

The coils tightened, and Dirk gave a muffled scream as something creaked inside him. A forked tongue slid out from between Glacia's fangs and lapped at her teeth, her eyes glinting maliciously.

"I wonder what raw angel tastes like..."

"LET HIM GO!"

Glacia rolled her eyes in exasperation, turning in the air to face the source of the shout. "Oh, what-?"

And that's when Punchy's fist collided with her face, and Maisy's boot found it's place in her stomach. The combined attack sent the cold-blooded creature sailing backwards, blood trailing from a broken nose as she slammed into the far wall before collapsing in a heap on the floor. At the same time, the coils around Dirk loosened considerably, and the Dark Angel slid out of the coccoon and landed with a thump on his butt, gulping down lungfuls of air like a starving man binging on praline truffles. Merry was instantly by his side, helping him to his feet as the world slowly came back into focus.

"Are you alright, Mr. Dirk?" the Elf was heard to cry out, although Dirk's hearing was still somewhat muffled.

"Yeah, I'll live," gasped Dirk. His innards felt like play-dough after that, and every one of his bones was screaming in pain. But he didn't get to dwell on it for long, because in the next second Glacia had righted herself, tail thrashing like a whip, and the angel had to throw himself to the floor to avoid being smacked in the face it. The Nibirian towered over him, eyes bulging in her head and turning purple with rage, and the three elves backed away from their enemy as panic suddenly seized them.

"I WILL MOUNT YOUR HEADS ON MY MANTLEPIECE!" Glacia shrieked.

"You're welcome to try, fuckface," snarled Dirk, scrambling to his feet.

Hissing, Glacia charged...

...and screamed as a claw caught her across the face, causing her to spin in mid-air and miss Dirk by incles. As she struggled to right herself, undulating like a ribbon in the wind, the Macra that had been among the prisoners lumbered forward, clacking it's pincers and chittering with defiance and anger. Beneath it, Vulturites that had been trying to round up the escapees howled as they were trampled and prodded by it's pointed feet, and other aliens began to bunch up behind the massive crab, uttering their own rebellious cries.

Glacia swivelled to face this new attacker, seething with injured pride. But she wasn't able to make a move before the Taurian charged in, bellowing, and caught her in the stomach with a swinging fist, sending her sliding backwards. The Yujata's laser shot missed her head by a whisker, leaving a seething burn in the wall, but the Grey's telekinatic blast didn't, and the pummled princess teetered from the onslaught, off-balance for a few precious moments as her former captives advanced.

And that's when Dirk seized his chance. With a yell, the dark angel spread his wings and leapt into the air, tackling Glacia around the midsection and sending them both crashing to the floor of the ship. Both of them immediately began tumbling around on the ground, shouting and snarling in a mad struggle, lost in a tangled ball of scales and feathers. Caught off-guard by Dirk's sudden bold assault, the elves and aliens watched from the sidelines, unsure of what to do as their friend and savour respectively duked it out with their opressor, punching and kicking and occasionaly biting.

Glacia's tail suddenly shot up, curling around and around.

Maisy screamed and covered her eyes.

There was a brief symphony of banging and crashing and grunting...

....

...Maisy looked again.

Breathing heavily, but with a triumphant look on his face, Dirk climbed off of the tangled knot that was Glacia and walked over to the elves.

"So," he asked the sea of surprised and bemused faces, "what's next?"

As if on cue, the sound of a massive explosion tore through the ship like thunder, and the entire thing shook like a fresh jelly as a terrible force surged through it. Cries of fright rippled through the crowd of former prisoners as they staggered this way and that, trying to keep their balance on the rocking ship, and Dirk had to dig his Klausium hand into the side of the corridor to stay upright, buckling the metal in his grip. The elves themselves tumbled about like ninepins, screaming as they went, and even the Vulturites around went into a panic, dropping their weapons and scrambling away from the carnage.

And then, just to add even more to the confusion, alarms went off and lights started flashing.

"WHAT THE FLYING FUCK IS GOING ON?!" Dirk screamed above the screaming of the pasengers and blaring of klaxxons. He didn't remember explosions being a part of the sabotage at all! Ruined food and escaped prisoners, yes, but not explosions! Okay, so he'd sent the Dalek down to disable the engines so that the ship couldn't chase after the escape pods, but-

...The Dalek.

The tannoy crackled on.

-------

"This is Dalek Krang of the 20th Skaro Battlefleet, speaking to all inferior life forms aboard the Nibirian vessel.

"The engine of this ship has been detonated, and it is now currently headed on an impact course with the planet Earth. Impact will occur in approximately forty-two Rels, and will destroy a significant amount of the lower levels of the vessel. All re-entry systems have been disabled - heat shields are offline and retro-rockets are incapable of motion. In addition, all landing gear has been sabotaged and will self-destruct if any attempts to engage it are made. Calculated survivor count of impact... zero.

"To summarize... you will all be exterminated!

"Initating Temporal Shift!"

*click*

-------

A horrible silence.

Nobody moved, nobody spoke. The Macra didn't chitter, the Grey didn't hiss, the llamas had stopped bickering. Apart from the screaming of the alarms and the panicked calls of the Vulturites as they lost their minds (as usual), there wasn't a sound. Everyone just sort of... stood there, unable to grasp what was happening, unsure of what to do.

Then Dirk felt a tugging on his chiton, and looked down. Merry was standing next to him, on the verge of breaking down, and the other elves were bunched behind him, also trying not to cry. It was a few horrible, pained seconds before he spoke, voice cracked with emotion.

"We're... we're going to die... aren't we?"

Dirk looked down at the blue eyes, shining with tears. At the faces and eyes and muzzles and god knows what else aimed at him. Some hopefully, some desparingly, some with no trace of emotion at all, some incapable of showing emotion for various reasons. Glacia's angry glare didn't count, because she probably deserved this, in his opinion. At the iron-gray walls that were rapidly becoming a death trap for everyone on board.

And saw nothing. Not a hope. They'd been so close, so close to getting away scott free, and now they were all going to die. All because Dirk had lost enough brain cells to trust a fucking Dalek with something.

But he couldn't bring himself to say it.

I need a miracle...

-------

Somewhere, somehow, his voice was heard.

And Arceus lifted his head and said: Let it be so.

-------

And that's when he felt it.

It was almost the same sensation as it had been on Lapulas - a warmth, starting as a faint glow in his core but spreading out like waves on an ocean. Only this time, as it grew within him from a murmer to a throb to a pulse, it didn't stop. It wasn't a seed this time, it was a well, a fountain that gushed heat and power that filled him like an empty bottle and it was leaking out of his mose and mouth, anywhere it could. But it was coming too fast, it was filling faster than it emptied and sparks were dancing off his fingers, and he thought he heard Merry say something but he seemed so far away-

And then he burst.

The light that filled the corridor was so great everyone had to shield their eyes. Even those who didn't have eyes, like the Quarks. And then came the voice, a voice that boomed loud enough to drown the sirens, but was still the same old cocky irish accent the elves knew.

"Right, then! Now that I'm conviniently a God, let's set about saving your arses! Get to the upper levels, you lot - I'll take care of this!"

A rush of warm wind, a beat of wing. And when the light died down and everyone could see again, Dirk was gone.

After a minute, they decided that standing around made them look rather stupid. And so they turned and headed for the elevators.

-------

The ship wasn't hard to miss. A huge lump of metal, descending from space at breakneck speeds, tends to be quite visible. And in the Manhattan skyline, it looked like a tidal wave of metal and fire, screaming down from the sky towards them. It's glow was conspicuous enough for some people to stop and look up at it, to point it out to each other and stop driving to observe it. The thought that it might impact with their fair city and decimate several square miles of land, as well as crushing them in a fiery inferno, never occured to them.

Many didn't even notice the shining light breaking out of it, swooping around in a circle to disappear into the flames again.

By the time anyone thought to start panicking, the ship was already slowing down in midair. So some didn't bother. Instead they watched, open-mouthed as, with the sound of protesting metal, the great disc began to swerve, changing it's course so that instead of careening headlong towards the city, it was now sort of lazily drifting towards the bay. Okay, sure, it came quite close to skimming the tops of skyscrapers, but after all the stuff the city had been through it would have been more amazing if it didn't.

It didn't so much land in the water as bellyflop. The waves it produced, whilst large, weren't anything to crow about in the grand scheme of things. But for three whole minutes, none of the coast guard or armed forces that moved in could get near for the steam that rose from it. You could have stuck a turkey in it and it would have roasted to perfection.

When they finally got the doors to open, they were very surprised indeed.

-------

"So," mused Dirk as he looked over the hustle and bustle of activity. "What's next?"

"Oh, the others will get home fine," chimed Merry. "The shuttles have enough fuel to get them back to their own galaxies, thanks to those kind military people!"

"And Lady Glacia?" Dirk squinted as he thought he saw the two llamas walk away from the gathering of soldiers and operatives, still bickering.

Punchy snickered behind one meaty fist. "On a one-way pod to Nibiru, with a warrant for her arrest and trial."

Dirk couldn't help but let a grin form on his face. "You sneaky bugger."

"I try."

A pause.

And then Dirk turned to look down on the elves, smiling hugely.

"Right," he cheerily exlaimed. "There's a big pile of presents at home with my name on it, and I've gotta get back in time to open them. So, if you don't mind..."

"Oh, not at all!" Merry's eyes twinkled with delight has he remembered. "We've got to be getting home ourselves - Mr. Kringle will be picking us up soon and taking us back to Lapulas!"

Dirk nodded. "Well, not gonna kep you waiting, then. See you around and all that." And with that, the Dark Angel turned and began the long walk back to-

"Mr. Dirk!"

Dirk paused, looked back and blinked. "Yes, Maisy- Oh."

He blinked again.

Then he knelt down, and Merry and Punchy flinched. But their expressions changed when the angel knelt down and, instead, whispered something into Maisy's ear. Whatever he said, it was enough for the elf to stiffen, and her ears turned a very visible red that surprised the other two. Then, without a word and only a small smile of amusement, Dirk stood up, turned around and resumed his walk homewards.

As he left, Punchy ambled up and tapped Maisy on the shoulder.

"Hey, Maisy. What did he say?"

Maisy turned to him, eyes wide and face like a tomato.

"He... He already has a girlfriend!"

--------

Walking back home, the Party Pavillion looming into view, Dirk looked up to the sky and smiled.

Thanks a bunch, Arceus.

~ YOU HAVE BEEN READING~

DIRKMAS 2: This Time It's Personal

A Zoofights Roleplay Side-Story

Inspired by Doctor Who, Dragon Ball Z Abridged and Some Other Shit

Written by Steel Komodo

 

~WITH THE VOICE TALENTS OF~

 

ANTONIO DEL RIO as Dirk Angelos

 

ELIJAH WOOD as Merry Elf

 

JOHN C. REILY as Punchy Elf

 

KAT STEEL as Maisy Elf

 

ANNE HATHAWAY as Lady Glacia

 

JIM CUMMINGS as Commander Varn the Vulturite

 

FRANK WELKER as the Macra, the Predator and the Grey

 

JASON STEELE as Paul and Carl the Llamas

 

and introducing NICHOLAS BRIGGS as the voice of Dalek Krang

 

and DEIMOS THE TAURIAN as himself

 

~FEATURING THE FOLLOWING MUSIC~

 

"Dare" by Stan Bush

 

"The Daleks" by Murray Gold

 

"Here Comes Trouble" from Banjo-Tooie by Grant Kirkhope

 

"The A-Team Theme"  by Mike Post, Pete Carpenter & The Daniel Caine Orchestra

 

"Crisis" from Dragon Ball Z: Budokai Tenkaichi 2 by Takanori Arima

 

"The Long Song" by Murray Gold

 

"O Come All Ye Faithful" by Twisted Sister

 

"Party Hard" by Andrew WK

 

~ THANKS FOR READING!~

 

 ~MERRY CHRISTMAS!~



100 Post Special: SK's Cutting Room Floor 2013

So, this is it. RP for 2013 is finally over, and we're off into the golden age of next year. And the best way to enter next year, as always, is arse first with eyes drunken gazing back on the events that have passed. Pairings have formed, controversies were had and jokes were laughed at, but as always there are hidden secrets - things that were considered to occur in RP but never panned out, for one reason or another. And depending on the number of characters involved, the amount of unused stuff varies.

And so, in post-RP tradition, and also in celebration of this being my 100th post on this blog, I would like to present the Steel Komodo Season 3 Cutting Room Floor, full of ideas and stuff that never got used for one reason or another. Hey, it's not Monster Mash, but at least it's something!

1) Section Zero refers to a place in Rutledge where the worst mutants are kept. In pain, insane and dangerous to themselves and others, they're hidden away in padded cells until a cure can be found for their condition. Robbie actually came from Section Zero - his psychic powers are actually quite deadly, despite being a shadow of what the Observer could do, and his cell was specially designed to dampen them in case he went as crazy as the others did. How did Daniel and Carol get him out? He's the only one allowed out for a few hours every day, so he can have a walk and stuff. Also, they give him Sparkle, which is a kind of depressant that some residents began making out of the wild mushrooms that grow outside Rutledge. Sometimes they give it to Section Zero inmates to stop them braining themselves against their cell walls.

There was also a sequence planned where, via UTG or sifter or whatever, some guys would have visteted Rutledge, probably because Robbie got kidnapped. You'd have learned a bit about how things worked there, and met the priest guy and stuff. Also, there was going to be a parody of this song when the mutants of Section Zero tell the Kobbers to take Robbie and GTFO.

2) The guy who runs Rutledge is a priestly guy who is partly based on Gill from Street Fighter 3. He's hoping that, somehow, he can find a way to make the mutants he has in his asylum to rebuild society, which is why I mentioned the activities Carol and Daniel did. His power is twofold - with one hand, he can awaken dormant memories or implant knowledge in a person's mind, and with the other he can either delete meories or edit current ones to make people forget. That second power is the most dangerous one, and he knew it, so he always gave people the choice, when it came to it. He didn't want to risk doing something he'd regret, with powers like that.

And yes, that power was themed on the Truth vs. Ideals thing Reshiram and Zekrom had going on.

3) I was gonna showcase Crusoe's "true" form at some point, but the best I could do was make a shitty recolour of Bills from Battle of Gods. So I said "fuck it" and never used it, because with Daniel's appearance being based on fanart of Bardock we already had enough DBZ.

4) Three Fears that never turned up due to the change in setting where the Plague Doctor, an eccentric old spirit of disease and plague who cared more about alien biology than winning the Grand Game, the Grotesque, a living embodiment of nightmares that would have most likely attacked someone in their sleep in the form of a nightmarish carnival, and the Deep, the Father of Fears who is actually either Poseidon or Jormungand. There was going to be an amusing scene with him where he invited visitors for tea and scones.

There was also going to be an appearance by the Quiet, the Fear of Nothing that is fated to wipe out all life on Earth after the War of the Fears occurs. There was going to be an end-game sequence after defeating Slender Man, where the Quiet turns up and thanks the Kobbers for preventing what was basically Armageddon. But I was so tired after doing the final battle I just said "fuck it" and didn't bother.

5) Swain and Mr. Scars were going to have bigger roles, but that didn't pan out due to time constraints.

6) Originally, the Killer Instinct character was going to be Sabrewulf, searching for a cure to his lycanthropy. I had been looking forward to writing scenes with him interacting with Lyall, and he would have eventually acquired the cybernetic arms from KI2 at some point.

7) While not mentioned in the Mega Post, Firebrand and Persolus spent some time recuperating on the ZFS before returning to Earth. They were also waiting for the heat to die down after Gorr'Rylaehotep and Barghest got so soundly trounced - the Fears would have been mighty suspicious after that.

8) I was originally also going to have a go at the Red Cap, but if you looked her up you'll know why I didn't do it. I also felt it would have been trying too hard to recapture the essence Dirk pre-taming - there isn't much that can capture that particular spark.

9) Concerning Dirk's book plot, it was actually going to be longer. Richard Longshore would have sued Dirk for attempted libel, and it would have lead to a courtroom scene that would have properly cemented the centaur author as a dick and a money-hungry egotist - a kind of mirror-universe Dirk mixed with General Cleft. This was also an opportunity for Dirk to call him out (i.e. quote more Nostalgia Critic) and end the plot on a more desicive finale instead of the off-hand newspaper review I had to do.

10) "Barghest" was an extremely last-minute name for Black Dog's entry into the Halloween Brawl. I could have used the names given in those documents, but I wanted to be a bit more creative. Also, those documents on Fears (at least, Black Dog's and Slender Man's) were actually written a long time ago out of boredom - I didn't anticipate CW and Harpy would actively go looking them up.

11) On the subject of those documents, there was a heavily encoded .zip file in there labelled "HABIT". I'm kinda glad you guys didn't open that one.

Basically, it refers to the character of HABIT from EverymanHYRBID. In ZFRP, Habit would have been one of Slender Man's servants, but not a Proxy - he was a guy with serial killer tendancies possessed by a Jigsaw/Hannibal Lecter-ish demon thing. Collectively known as Habit, they were a wild card in the Collective, and what hints I would give in the files lead to the conclusion that they are either dead for some reason or missing. One certain thing was that he was exiled from the Collective for... some reason or other.

12) There was a sequence planned where the Monster Hunters would have faced of against Dire Miralis. Who is basically the Monster Hunter equivalent of Satan. Alatreon was gonna play a bigger role as well, but then Stan got tied too much to the Society and the plot.

13) The plot point about Rock suffering a memory overload from absorbing weapon data from living beings was gonna be bigger, but there were so many plot things on my hands right now that I didn't want to do it. Also, I was totally going to pull a "Babe the Sheep Pig" and have Rock ask Sine if it was okay for him to call her mom. But I didn't do it because... I didn't want to.

14) Jewel Man was the only Robot Master I was sure of sending up on the outset. Guts Man and Plug Man were the result of a lucky Random.org roll. On the subject of Jewel Man, I was going to defy the stereotype and make him just flamboyant but straight, using his girlish mannerisms to mess with people's heads. But then I lost some brain cells to cider and now he's a horrible characature.

15) There was a bit after Chaosplot where Stan idly mentions tasting copper. If you paid attention in school, you'd know that's one of the first symptoms of an impending heart attack. I was gonna put Stan in peril, for once, so Gemma could be the one saving the day, but then I completely forgot all about the plot. No excuses of tiredness or alcohol here, I just completely forgot it was going to be a thing.

16) Also, to clarify, Robbie is a future version of the Observer, rendered powerless and amnesiac by the Cleansing - the event where the Quiet wipes out life to stop the Fears from fucking everything up. By being exposed to Robbie, the Observer became aware of what was going to happen and the change in timeline that was to occur. He had a plan to pull a Starscream and gain Gorr'Rylaehotep's powers for himself, to try and prevent the War of the Fears, but of course that didn't pan out.

And so there you go. Stuff that didn't make it into ZFRP, or was pushed aside for something else. Hope you enjoyed reading this, and if not then you can simply chase the memories away with a stiff drink. Kind of like what I'm doing right now :U

Dirkmas Part 3

Last time on Dirkmas...

"Now, where was I?" Fyrros mused to himself. "...Ah, yes. Mass genocide."

And with that, the Annunaki dropped the arm, turned and paced towards the forest, where the elves were still trying to take refuge. It wouldn't take long, the pyromaniacal warlord reckoned - a few strategically-thrown fireballs would turn the place into an inferno in seconds, trapping the stupid creatures and sealing their doom. There was no way the elves would survive that, and nothing they could to to stop him.

A horrible smile crossed his smouldering features.

"Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night."

We now return to your regularly scheduled programme...

-------

Blackness.

Dirk slowly became aware of the aching in his entire body once again. The pain was almost unbearable, and for a moment the dark angel found himself unable to move as his joints sang with agony. His body felt like every possible bone within it was broken, apart from the stump where his arm had been, his glubok was in tatters and his head felt like it was immersed in ice-cold porridge with the way everything seemed to swim around him like the sharks in the tank back home. Everything felt like lead - he couldn't have moved an inch even if he wanted too, thanks to the beating Fyrros had just given him.

But his heart was heaviest of all.

I failed them. I tried, I really tried to protect them from that Nibirian shithead, and I failed. He's going to wipe Lapulas clean of life, and then he's going to do the same to Earth, and I'm not going to be there when his miserable planet rolls around and starts the apocalypse.

And not even the others can stop his miserable kind. Sarah, Erebus, Zeph, David, Del... they're all gonna die. The whole planet's doomed. And it's my fault. I should have stopped him here, but I failed. Because I'm not strong, like big bro.

Pit... You're gonna get it, too. They'll kill you first, for what you are.

I'm so sorry, bro...



















"Dirk?"

The voice was barely audible at first, and Dirk put it down to imagination. He'd taken so many knocks to the head that it was no wonder he had started hearing things, like being on hallucinogens without the criminal charges and double the headache on coming down. There couldn't be anyone else in the village, there just couldn't!

"Mr. Dirk, sir?"

But when the voice came again, louder and closer, the Dark Angel realized that the porridge in his head was starting to fade way, and his ears were picking up the sounds of footsteps crunching on the snow and the sound of those silly bells. The next thing he knew, a pair of unusually large arms had hooked under him and lifted him up out of the snow, and someone else was holding his head up.

"Wh... Who...?"

Dirk opened his eyes...

And there was Merry, stooping over him and fumbling for a hip flask on his belt that, for some reason, the angel hadn't noticed until now. There were other elves there, too - a burly specimen at least a foot taller than Merry, with arms like battering rams holding his body and wings clear of the snow, and a red-lipped, rosy-cheeked elf girl holding his head up, blue eyes looking down upon him with intense worry. As Dirk's heavy eyes flitted from one to the other, Merry finally unclipped the flask from his belt, uncorked it and set the mouth of it to Dirk's lips.

"Here, Mr. Dirk," came his tiny bell voice. "Try and drink this."

With an effort, Dirk managed to pry his cracked, bleeding lips open, and Merry quickly tipped the flask up, pouring the contents between then and into his mouth. The distinct, fruity taste of sherry hit the angel's tongue, which thankfully was not one of the things ruined by Pyrros's assault, and even as he gratefully drank from the flask Dirk couldn't help but raise an eyebrow towards Merry at the odd choice of tipple. He would have asked why, but with his mouth plugged that would have been a difficult task - it was Pit was famed for his ability to eat and drink at the same time.

"It's most common at this time of year," the elf explained. Oh, yeah, it was Christmastime, wasn't it? Of course.

Eventually, Merry titled the flask back down, stemming the flow of liquid and letting Dirk catch his breath as he replaced the cork. With a grunt of effort, the muscled elf and his friend began to heave the Dark Angel back onto his feet, and Merry quickly reached out to grab hold of the arm that was still there, tugging on that for support. By degrees, the trio managed to get Dirk back upright, and for a moment they could only stare at him as he stood there, gasping and shaking, one hand clutching a stump that still leaked blood.

Eventually, through the haze in his mind and the pain in his shoulder, Dirk found his voice.

"Why... why did you... come back?" he gasped, looking at the diminutive figures around him one by one. "Fyrros could've... killed you."

"We couldn't leave you to suffer like that, sir," rumbled the biggest elf, his voice hollow like a copper bell. "Merry said we had to help you somehow."

"Dirk, these are my friends Punchy and Maisy." Merry indicated each of the other elves in turn, who nodded solemnly in response. "Sorry I didn't get to introduce them earlier, but you know how it is - flaming alien attacks the planet, there's barely any time for introductions."

"Oh, no, I totally understand. Nice to meet you two."

A fresh spike of pain suddenly lanced up Dirk's leg as something wrapped around it, and he hissed between his teeth as he looked down. Looking back up was Maisy Elf, her lips set in a distressed pout and eyes wet with tears as she looked up at him like a puppy that had been caught wetting itself, chocolate-brown hair accumulating snow. In typical Dirk fashion, the angel let his mind wander, letting the thought "Damn, she's kinda cute" slip by before catching and berating himself for letting his libido get ahead of his brain, as was his way.

"You gotta stop him, Mr. Dirk!" Maisy almost sobbed, her voice like a polished ocarina ringing in the silence of the empty village. "He's gonna kill everyone here if you don't!"

On hearing this, Dirk let his head fall as a sudden depression overtook him. "I appreciate your concern," he muttered, as if talking to no-one in particular, "but you've got the wrong angel. I can't beat Fyrros."

"But you gotta, man," cried Punchy, waving fists as large as Dirk's head. "You were the only one who-"

"No, I can't!" Dirk disengaged himself from Maisy's grasp and turned to face the other elves, and this time the pain on his face was an internal pain. "There's nothing in the universe that can compare to that thing! He's an Annunaki - the strongest beings to come from the planet of Nibiru, which as we speak is heading right towards Earth with every intention of ripping it apart if he succeeds in destroying this place! And he just made complete mincemeat out of me - a Low Angel, a being bred for fighting, the same species that drove his kind off of Earth when they subjugated the primitive people! I'm short of an arm and the one thing that would give me an advantage - my magic - has literally been punched out of me by that thing!"

Dirk blinked as he heard the echoes of his own words die away in the air, and realised that he had been shouting. The elves were looking up at him, open-mouthed with shock at his tirade, bunched together as if at any moment he might turn into a raging panther and leap for their throats. The desperate anger and exasperation within him burned away, leaving a smouldering depression where it had once been as he let himself slump forward, ignorant of the pain in his arm stump now.

"So no," he said, with an almost crushing finality. "I can't beat him. I don't have the power."

There was a silence. A long, pronounced and awkward silence. The sort where no-one can think of anything to say or do, just shuffle their feet and stare in one direction. The fires in the village were dying out now, their brilliant lights dimmed to dull, reproachful glares as they ran out of log cabins to plunder and destroy. The snow fell much less thicker now, coming in mere drizzles instead of the picturesque fall it had been a while ago.

Then Dirk felt a hand on his knee, and looked down.

"Don't have the power, you say?" Came Merry's voice. "Oh, but I think you do."

Dirk blinked in surprise. "You wh-?"

"We elves aren't strangers to people like Fyrros," continued the elf in an oddly-soothing voice. "I know his sort - the kind of person who thinks that power is the ultimate answer to every question in the universe. The kind of person who is secretly terrified of anything that could topple him from his imaginary pedestal, and bullies others into fearing or serving him in order to hide it behind a veil of darkness and evil. That's not power, that's a child stomping on ants to stop them getting into the pantry."

Merry was smiling. In the midst of all this carnage, with a genocidal fire demon hunting his kinfolk down, he was actually smiling in an encouraging manner at Dirk.

"We elves of Lapulas believe differently. We believe power doesn't come from how many planets you've conquered or how much wealth or influence you have. We say it's the little things - small acts of kindness from everyday people - that make a person who they are. Things like letting someone in from the rain, or donating money to a good cause, or guiding a drunk person home. That, we say, is a greater power than any military might or money, and worth much more notice than those who terrorise and conquer for the sake of respect. Unconditional love - that's the greatest power of all."

"And there's no greater show of that," rumbled Punchy, "than by sticking up for those less fortunate than yourself. That's what Christmas is really about - not all the tinsel and presents and trees and stuff, but putting aside your differences to help other people and make them feel good about themselves. And that's exactly what you did when you challenged that Fyrros bloke - you stuck up for us when it looked like we were all gonna get roasted and our planet blown up. That takes guts, and that showed us you're twice the man than that flaming bozo."

"We know you can beat Fyrros, Dirk," chimed in Maisy. "We believe in you, now all you gotta do is believe in yourself! The power is inside your heart, not your glubok!"

Now, Dirk would not be the first person to describe himself as cynical. Probably the third or fourth, but never the first. The point is, more often than not things like "true love" were usually filed by the Dark Angel under the subheading of "dumb kiddy shit" that, while working fine for Sarah and Disney movies, just didn't cut it for the sort of person who's idea of a good time was baking stolen medical marijuana into brownies and getting shitfaced. No, Dirk didn't believe in that stuff - kid's stuff, designed to protect their tiny minds from the horrors of the real world. Let someone better (or stupider) than him believe in it.

But... something in the words of the elves, the way they spoke so encouragingly, struck something in him and bored past the layer of casual cynicism that existed as a consequence of his being Pit's dark half. Somewhere, deep inside, he knew that what they were saying was true, even thought they said it in the soppiest way possible, and that, deep down, he still had what it took to defeat Fyrros and save Lapulas. He just had to keep telling himself that he could do it, to believe that despite his wounds he could still do it, and then go for it.

Jeez, when did I get so soft? Curse you, Morgana and Baby Conrad!

"...you're right."

The elves blinked as Dirk straightened out, clenching his free hand into a fist and gazing up into the starry sky.

"I'm nowhere near as strong or nice as my big brother," he declared, determination burning in his eyes, "but that doesn't mean I have to just sit by and do nothing. If you believe that I can beat Fyrros and save your people - and my planet and Christmas, to boot - then I believe that, too. And moreover, I'm going to do a lot more than that - I'm going to kick his arse so fucking hard, he's going to fly all the way to Kanassa before he realises what hit him!"

The angel's voice rose to a passionate shout, the echoes bouncing around the village as if the very buildings themselves were joining in to affirm his beliefs.

"NOBODY FUCKS WITH CHRISTMAS!"

"YAAAAAAY~" Upon hearing this awesome, somewhat heroic declaration, the elves leapt up and down on the spot, cheering in their high-pitched voices and alternating between waving their hands and clasping them together. Once again, Dirk couldn't help but grin at their boundless optimism in these dire circumstances, and the comparison between them and Sarah came up in his mind once again. Were Christmas elves related to white mages somehow? Dirk was gonna have to look that up.

Anyway, back to business. Beating the shit out of Fyrros.

"Right," he cut in after they'd done cheering and hopping about. "I've got good news and bad news. The bad news is that Fyrros is already headed towards the woods to try and find the others and blow them up. The good news," he quickly added, as he saw the looks of dismay on the elves faces, "is that he was going at a casual walk, for some reason, so if we get moving now, we could catch up with him before he does any real damage."

"But you've only got one arm, Mr. Dirk," chimed in Merry, an expression of worry on his face. "Won't that put you at a disadvantage in the fight?"

"Hey, you focus on getting your village out of trouble, Merry," retorted Dirk. "I'll worry about Fyrros. I think I have a plan, but it's gonna be a bit risky."

"Whatever it is, count me in," growled Punchy, banging his fists together. "No way am I gonna let my buddies be turned into charcoal!"

"And if you win," piped up Maisy quite suddenly, batting her eyelashes at the Low Angel, "I'll give you a kiss, you handsome thing, you!"

There was an awkward silence.

"D-don't mind Maisy, Mr. Dirk, sir." muttered an embarrassed Merry, going red. "She's always trying to-"

"Hold it," cut in Dirk. He looked down at Maisy, a grin forming on his face as he dropped to his knees in order to look her in the eyes. In typical Dirk fashion, his libido had suddenly put his common sense into a chokehold, and had now taken over the driving seat for a bit. Really, you should have seen this coming at some point - after all, this story is about Dirk Angelos, the closest you can get to Johnny Bravo without actually being Johnny Bravo.

"What sort of a kiss?" he asked.

Merry's eyes widened in shock. "What kind of a question-?!"

"A big, wet one!" Maisy squealed.

Dirk leant forward eagerly. "With lots of tongue?"

"As much as you like!"

"And will there be-?"

"Ooh, you have no idea!"

"Deal!" Dirk leapt back to his feet and punched the air with a free arm - finally, someone was giving him the reward he deserved for putting his life on the line! "Come on, let's go! Punchy, stick with me - I'll need your help with this!"

And with that delightful little bit of dialogue out of the way, Dirk dashed down the street towards the village exit, where he knew Fyrros would be approaching the forest by now. A squealing Maisy followed hit on his heels, and Punchy and Merry, after exchanging awkward glances with each other, followed. They knew that time was of the essence here - if they wanted to save the other elves from the Annunaki, they were going to have to think fast and act fast, and put their faith in what plan it was the angel had under his single remaining sleeve.

It was now or never.

-------

It hadn't taken long to find the elves.

Fyrros could have laughed. It had been almost too easy - hampered by the cold, held back by carrying their injured and elderly, the diminutive aliens hadn't even reached the outskirts of the woods yet. In the Annunaki's mind, the simpering wretches must not have had any actual will to live. If they had truly wished to survive his wrath, they'd have abandoned the weak and sick to get themselves to safety. There was a reason the Nibirians gave up such things like compassion long ago - in the great game of life that was the universe, such idiotic concepts would usually see you dead or picking jackboots out of your teeth.

As it was, they had barely reached the first line of trees when the fireball impacted right in front of them. The pyroclastic explosion absolutely terrified the villagers out of their wits, and the morale of the tiny beings broke almost instantly - their protector was dead and the Destroyer of Life had found their hiding place. Screaming in terror, the elves broke ranks and ran in every concievable direction that could take them away from the carnage - some collided with each other and fell in tangled heaps, whilst the elderly and weak were abandoned and trampled by the younger ones in their haste to escape their impending doom.

Standing on the hill that overlooked the forest, a sadistic chuckle rolled from Fyrros's jaws as he watched the chaos his one solitary attack had created. This wasn't quite the plan he had in mind - he had been hoping to try and hem the elves in between the burning forest and himself, or trap them in a ring of burning trees and leave them to suffer as their own sanctuary burned around them. But this was just as good, in the Nibirian's twisted opinion. At the very least, he enjoyed moving targets.

The Conquer of Worlds lifted his arm-

PAFF!

-and shrieked as a snowball struck him in the back of the head. He staggered from the simultaneous pain and ice-cold chill that ran through him, and the fireball that had been building at the end of one arm dissipated in a flickering puff of smoke, never to reach it's destination. Steam rose from the area where the projectile had struck, the snow melting and evaporating against his skin as he recovered his balance, shocked and outraged at the sneak attack he never saw coming.

"WHO THREW THAT?!" he bellowed, wheeling on the spot to face the direction the snowball had come from. "SHOW YOURSELF, WRETCH!"

No response. Except for the elves ceasing their terrified runabout at the sound of the Annunaki's roaring, stopping to stare in amazement and confusion, nothing happened in direct response to Fyrros's demands. Nobody new appeared, nobody shouted anything in response. The Annunaki glared all around the landscape in search of his attacker, but all his blazing yellow eyes could see where snow dunes as far as the horizon, forming valleys and trenches of white, with no clue as to-

PAFF!

Another snowball, this time right in the side of the face. Another hissing sizzle, another shriek of pain and rage, and this time the icy projectile succeeded in leaving a mark - a horrific, fist-sized welt on the lizard's muzzle, like some kind of burn. With a snarl, Fyrros whipped around and lashed out with one arm, casting a fireball that impacted heavily with the snow and sent up a white-hot plume into the air. But nothing came of it, for the dust cleared to reveal absolutely nobody had been caught in the blast.

"STOP THAT!" The Annunaki was getting thoroughly pissed off now, his fire burning hot enough to melt the snow beneath his feet. "COME OUT AND FIGHT ME!"

And then another snowball got him in the back. PAFF!

"AAAAAARGH!" Fyrros turned and launched a fireball that way, too. But once again, the showy, flashy impact was all for naught, for the snow dune he demolished had nobody in front of, behind or next to it, and thus the Son of Nibiru was merely wasting his energy on hitting something that wasn't there. And thus, this pattern began to repeat itself - a snowball would fly seemingly out of nowhere to strike Fyrros, a fireball would hit the snow with apparently no effect, and the Annunaki would grow even more perplexed and furious with the whole ordeal.

Watching from a distance, the elves blinked in shock. Many of them who had began to run showly trudged back to get a better view, whislt otheres helped to pick up and/or untangle the fallen so they could watch as well. Like Fyrros, the ensemble had no clue as to what was going on - as far as they were concerned, Dirk had been slain and most of their kind lay dead in the village. Who on Lapulas remained to challenged the mighty Nibirian, after all the lives he had taken.

Then a flash of black feathers rushed by, and the entire village understood.

As one, they turned and headed for the trees.

-------

"So how long we keepin' this up for?" hissed Punchy under his breath.

"Until the others make it into the woods," whispered Dirk in response.

The angel had not called this plan risky for nothing. It had meant drawing Fyrros's attention away from the elves making their way into the woods and onto them, which put them at risk of burnination or pummelling if they were caught. But both Dirk and Punchy were willing to put themselves on the line to ensure the other elves got to safety, and hopefully they could keep out of sight long enough for the whole thing to work out. Currently, the two were ducked behind a completely different snow dune to the one the Nibirian had just incinerated, Punchy moulding another snowball in his massive hands with rapid speed.

"So how did ya know them Nibirians don't like ice?" asked Punchy as he worked.

Dirk quirked an eyebrow at him. "I didn't," he admitted, having to raise his voice slightly over Fyrros's shouts of rage. "In fact, I don't think I ever rememebred that part from Galactic History lessons. That was boring as hell."

"Galactic History, huh?" Punchy quickly handed his completed snowball over to Dirk, who took in his remaining hand and tested it's eight. "What'cha learn there?"

"Why the Annunaki are dicks."

And with that, Dirk stood up from behind the dune and hurled the snowball with all his might. What with having a missing arm and all, his balance was somewhat off, but his aim was good enough - the projectile soared through the air to smash against Fyrros's side with another PAFF sound. With a scream, Fyrros turned and spat another fireball in their direction, and both angel and elf hoofed it to the next one just in time, throwing themselves flat as their previous barricade was destroyed with a flash of light and heat and half-melted snow.

"Good thing he didn't rip off my other arm," muttered Dirk as he picked himself up. "I need this one for writing and pelting people with snowballs."

"You think the others made it yet?" hissed Punchy, shaking from the near-miss.

Dirk quickly popped his head over the dune and peered towards the forest. In the dark of the night and the driving snow, it was hard to make out exact details of anything, let alone the glowing Fyrros on his hill, but he could see something moving at the foot of the trees - lots of little somethings, all moving in tandem together. The angel couldn't tell if they were actually elves or just bushes blowing in the wind, but he was never the type to play pessimistic - a trait he picked up from Pit, of course.

"I think so," he hissed when he ducked back down. "One more ought to do it, I think - just to make sure."

"Oh, I hope ya know what'cha doin," trembled Punchy as he scooped up more snow and began to mold it between his paws.

"So do I," whispered the Dark Angel. To tell the truth, he was almost as terrified as Punchy was - having one's arm ripped off tends to leave a lasting impression, especially when an Annunaki is responsible. But he was still determined to get the elves to safety and then deal with Fyrros before he found the strength to blow up the entire planet. Seriously, this guy was straight out of Dragon Ball, minus the over-long transformation sequences.

Punchy quickly plopped the snowball into Dirk's palm, the icy cold of it biting into his skin. Steeling himself, the angel pulled himself up to his full height to face the bewildered Fyrros, who was turning about on the spot as he searched for his seemingly-invisible tormentor. Screw being subtle now - the elves were out of the way and safe, so there was no reason to hide away now.

"OI! DICKHEAD!"

Dirk wheeled his arm back to throw the snowball...

...and got a fireball in the face for his trouble. Screaming at the heat, the angel dropped his own projectile to disintergrate in the snow as he staggered back, clutching his burnt face with his hand. Losing his balance, he topped backwards and landed with a thump on his back, snow going everywhere as he writhed in pain from the unexpected attack.

"MR. DIRK- AAGH!"

There was a spray of cold fragments as Punchy suddenly flew into a nearby snow dune, and from then on his speech became muffled and inchoerant. Dirk was on the point of pushing himself up to shout for him when a clawed foot suddenly thudded down dangerously close to his head, the points grazing his ear. Ignoring the pain as his skin sizzled from the fireball, Dirk moved his hand away and managed to wrench his eyes open to see what was going on.

"Well, well," rumbled Fyrros, glaring down. "I'm legitimately surprised you're still kicking, pigeon, and I admire your attempt at an underhanded sneak attack. But snowballs are naught but a mere distraction to me."

"Yeah, right," snappred Dirk. "Ever taken a look at yourself?" Even from where he stood, it was clear the Annunaki was not in the best of conditions anymore. The wounds inflicted from their previous battle were taking their toll, the alien's heavy breathing showing his exhaustion, and his body was covered in red welts where the snowballs had struck him again and again. On top of that, his fire was a dim glow rather than the flickering furnace it had once been - he was low on power, having expended most of it in blowing up piles of snow.

"I may have taken a few blows," growled Fyrros, "But I am still the strongest on this planet, bar none. Do you still think that you, with a missing arm and an elf for company, can defeat me?!"

"The thought had crossed my mind," was the reply.

"Well, here's some news for you." The Nibirian lifted his fingers, which began to glow with renewed fire. "You won't. You will die on this miserable planet, which I am going to rip apart with my bare hands, and Nibiru is going to destroy Earth and take it's rightful place in the solar system. Without your magic or strength, you are literally powerless to-"

"LEAVE MR. DIRK ALONE!"

Fyrros turned. "Oh, now wha-?"

The next moment, Maisy had literally barreled out from behind another snow dune, hair flying and eyes burning with boundless anger. Before Fyrros could even register what was happening, the enraged elf girl had rammed a foot right into his groin, causing an unholy popping noise from somewhere within. The lizard's eyes bugged out of his head as he gave a yelp, dropping to his knees and doubling over in pain as his fire dimmed down, revealing brown scales underneath.

"Gonna whizz red," he croaked between his teeth.

Dirk blinked as a boot-covered leg planted itself in the snow in front of him, and looked up to see Maisy standing defiantly between him and the pained Fyrros. As her hair blew in the wind and her bells jingled, the girl turned her head to look down at him over her shoulder, a smile crossing her lips as she caught sight of him. Once again, Dirk had to attempt wrestle with his own brain to not make some kind of lewd comment - thank Palutena on High for the small amount of decency and common sense Morgana had instilled into him.

The next sentence, however, completely wrecked that attempt.

"Are you okay, my handsome hero?" trilled Maisy.

Handsome hero. She just called him her handsome hero. Oh, was that one to tell Pit when he got out of this awful mess.

Dirk permitted himself a grin. "Sure am, sweet-cheeks. And you?"

"Oh, I will be." Maisy's tone suddenly shifted into iron anger as she turned and paced towards Fyrros, who was still clutching his ruined crotch in pain. "As soon as I teach Pepper-Breath here what it means to mess with an elf!" And with a shrill battle-scream, the chocolate-haired girl reared her entire body back before lunging forwards, delivering a solid headbutt straight towards the crown of the Annunaki's skull.

To Dirk's amazement, the attack actually hit, and Fyrros howled as he collapsed sideways in the snow, clutching his head and writhing in pain. The angel could only watch open-mouthed in shock at this suddenly display of strength from the diminutive figure - up until now, the elves hadn't demonstrated any other skills beyond inspiring speeches and the comuplsion to greet each other with "Hi-ho!" a lot. But Maisy was far from finished yet - turning around, she bent at the knees, then leapt high into the air with a shriek before suddenly dropping down...

CRACK!

...and ramming her butt straight into the downed Annunaki's midsection.

"MY GAS POCKET!" screamed Fyrros, his voice high-pitched with pain, before collapsing into a limp pile

"ARE YOU SORRY YET?!" screamed Maisy, her voice echoing around the valley and her eyes burning with apopleptic rage.

No response.

"GOOD ENOUGH!"

Maisy delivered a quick punch to the Nibirian's head, hopped off his chest and turned back to Dirk, who was slowly picking himself up, jaw open in wonder. With a smile, she began to walk briskly towards him, eyes fixed intently on him as he struggled to pull himself to his knees, until she reached the spot where he was knelt. Before the angel could rise to his feet or say anything, the elf girl had placed both hands upon his face and pulled it back down, bringing it level with hers and staring right into his eyes, every one of her intentions sparkling in her own.

Oh, fuck yes, was all Dirk could think as he saw immediatley where this was going.

"Well, that takes care of him," cooed Maisy. "And now, my handsome hero, I believe we-"

A roar of rage cut her off - Fyrros was now back on his feet, and none too happy about being caught off-guard like that. Dashing forward, the enraged Nibirian reached out with one clawed hand and grasped Maisy by the hair, yanking her off her feet and pulling her up into the air. With another blurr of movement, the lizard-creature had adjusted his grip so that now he held the struggling elf-girl by the head, the claws of his other hand pressing into her temple and glowing dangerously.

"INTERFERING WHELP!" he bellowed, clearly at the end of his tether. "I WILL MAKE YOU SUFFER FOR THAT!"

"PUT HER DOWN!" screamed Dirk a little too loudly, scrabbling to his feet. Maisy dangled from the Annunaki's grasp, whimpering in pain and fear as his claws dug into her skull and his body heat theatened to scalp her. His fingers were glowing with power again, and his bodily flame was starting to re-light itself, showing his internal magic was starting to return.

"Oh, I'm not so sure about that." Fyrros snarled as he pressed his claws closer to Maisy, causing her to shriek. "This female seems to have a great affection for you - amazing, considering that you're an unwashed pigeon. All this time I've been picking these elves off like popcorn, and they haven't resisted one iota. But now it turns out that at least some of them are willing to risk their lives to help you out. Tell me, what is your secret?"

Dirk clenched his fist. "Maybe it's because I'm not a genocidal maniac?"

"Wrong answer." Fyrros took a step forward, the snow hissing as it melted under his foot. "Now, here's a simple, two-choice question for you. Either you surrender to me and I spare the female now, so she can watch this planet and her bretheren die with you. Or I kill her now and you waste your energy trying to avenge her. Frankly, even I wouldn't want to make this choice, but either one is fine so long as I get this mess over with."

The Nibirian's eyes narrowed.

"Make your choice."

-------

The elves had, indeed, made it to the safety of the woods, as Dirk had predicted. But in their concern for their protector, who had risked his life to divert Fyross away from them, they had not gone so far that they could not see what was happening. Now, peering out from between the trees, they had witness pretty much everything, from Fyrros's anger to Maisy's brave interference, and were now watching as the Nibirian held one of their own hostage, threating the angel. It was a horrible sight, and each one could only hold their breath as they heard the exchange between the two fighters, horror rising in their chests at what they heard and saw.

However, each one had a lingering thought in their heads, one that refused to go away no matter how many times they dismissed it out of fear. They knew that compared to the Annunaki they wer mere ants, not possessing the same sort of destructive magical power that would give them any advantage. Yet the fact that Dirk continued to stand against him had inspired both Punchy and Maisy to take a stand, no matter how small, against their flaming tormentor, and this had not gone unnoticed by the other elves. Even as they watched from afar, something stirred within them, crying out for them to assist in some way despite the dangers of going up against Fyrros, to not leave Dirk in the peril he was in right now.

The thought was "What can we do?"

"Guys!"

As one, heads turned. Merry had reached the sanctuary of the trees a few minutes after they had done, and was now bent over, panting and gasping for air as he laid his hands on his knees, trying to recover from all the running. Immediately, a crowd gathered around him, all of them offering to sit him down or fetch something to drink and asking what happened.

"Enough of that!" Merry was quick to brush his companions off, glancing round them as they backed away in fear. "We have to do something! Fyrros has got Maisy, and he's gonna kill Dirk if we just stand by here!"

"But what can we do?" cried Derpy, the elf with the voice like a broken saxophone. "Maisy and Punchy stood up to him, and look what happened to them!"

"Well, we can't just sit here!" cried another elf with a triangle chime in his words. "If those guys could help out, then so can we!" And following this, there was a general murmur of agreement. Even if they were vastly outmatched in strength, that was no reason for the elves to hide from Fyrros. They had needed Dirk's help, a few hours ago, and now the angel clearly needed their's, no matter what. Their bretheren had done their part, and so would they.

But what was to be done?

"I think I have an idea."

The voice, like a silver gong, reverbrated through the crowd. As one, the elves turned and moved aside to give the speaker room - a wizened old elf, leaning on a twisted, cruedly-carved walking stick, his bear down almost to his knees. This elder looked around the company with twinkling eyes that nonetheless bore a serious look to them, the sort of look that commanded respect and knew exactly what to do in times like these.

"What is it, Grandfather Willow?" cried all the elves in unison. "What do we do?"

The oldest of the elves cleared his throat. "There is," he intoned gravely, "a special ritual that we elves have kept secret from the world. A power that is to be used only in the direst of times, when the sanctity of Lapulas is threatened and it's people in danger. At all other times, we are forbidden from using it due to the danger it poses to ourselves."

"...And we're just going to abuse it, right?" asked Merry after a pause.

Grandfather Willow grinned. "Oh, maliciously," he chuckled.

"So how do we do this?" asked someone else.

"It's quite simple." The old elf dropped his walking stick and turned to face the forest exit. "Firstly, we all need to link hands, just as we do in the Christmas celebrations. Merry, I'll need you to direct everyone in who should be next to what - the exact arrangement of elves is crucial."

There was a general kerfuffle at this. Elves moved, pushed, found places, swapped places, bumped into each other and trod on each other's toes. But the feeling of excitement and wonder in the air overcame the occasional accident and mishap. And all through it, Merry was calling out directions, telling which elves where to go and pointing out any slip-ups.

"That's the way, Speedy, stand next to Ricky... No, Flora, you're meant to be with Derpy... Sunny, keep your hands to yourself!"

"Is everyone ready?" asked Grandfather Willow, after an especially long pause. And they were. Everyone was in a large group, hands linked with someone else's hands, forming a sort of choir or huddle that jingled and rustled when it moved. Each elf looked from one to the other, nervous at the thought of what was going to happen, but still determined to go through with this if it meant helping Dirk to overcome Fyrros.

"Right, then. Now, on my count! One, two, three!"

-------

Fyrros blinked as the first strains of the song reached his ears.

His tail twitched. His fire flickered.

"Wh... what?" he tried.

Then he slowly turned on the spot, still holding Maisy in the air, until he was facing the forest. He blinked time and time again, but there was no mistaking what he was seeing. The elves of Lapulas, the very seme elves he had been tormenting an hour or two ago, were walking out from the forest, hand-in-hand, as if forming some kind of defiant army against him. But they came not with swords or shields or spears, or even guns or cannon. Not one of them was armed, or brandishing some kind of magic, or making rude insults and gestures like football hooligans, as was the custom of most of the races the Annunaki had conquered over the years.

No, they were singing.

"Fahoo-Fores, Dahoo-Dores,
Welcome, Christmas, come this way.
Fahoo-Fores, Dahoo-Dores,
Welcome, Christmas, Christmas Day!"

"What?!" Fyrros tried again.

Singing! The whole thing made absolutely no sense to the bewlidered Annunaki at all. The diminutive creatures had just been driven from their homes, terrorized and butchered like pigs at a market festival! They were practically going to become extinct, he'd killed so many of them, and he'd torn their entire holiday plans to ribbons! The tinsel, the presents, the tree - all of it had been destroyed in the fires he had started in the village! And yet instead of cowering before him like the dogs they were, they were SINGING?!

His grasp slipped from Maisy, who dropped to the snow with a yelp and a flurry of limbs. Punchy, who by this time had extracted himself from the snow dune, was quick to dash to her side, picking her up and ferrying her to a convienient hollow where they would be out of the way of whatever happened next. Fyrros didn't even notice them, so fixed was he on the utterly illogical spectacle in front of him.

"Wh... what is this?!"

"Welcome, Christmas, Fahoo Ramus!
Welcome, Christmas, Dahoo Damus!
Christmas Day is in our grasp
So long as we have hands to clasp!"

Dirk blinked as he looked down at the elves. In all honesty, he was just as confused as Fyrros was. What were the elves doing, leaving their hiding place like this? Did they intend to confront the Nibirian as one, or had they accepted their incoming death at his hands? Whatever it was, it was a pretty fucking stupid-

...Wait.

The angel could feel... something... welling up in him. It started as a tingle, deep within his heart. Then it began to grow, putting out tendrils the same way a seed puts out roots, until it was spreading as a sort of warmth throughout his whole body. It grew from a tingle to a murmur, from a murmur to a dull throb, and in almost no time at all it had transformed into a steady pulse that coursed through him, smoothing over his aches and pains and filling him with...

Power.

The same magical power he used in his spells.

A smile crossed his face.

"Oh, you crazy bastards," he grinned.

"Fahoo-Fores, Dahoo-Dores,
Welcome, Christmas, bring your cheer.
Fahoo-Fores, Dahoo-Dores,
Welcome, all things far and near!"

"WHAT?!" Fyrros finally rounded on the angel, and his face bore the expression of one who's hinges have finally snapped and now nothing in the universe makes sense anymore. "Explain this, pigeon! Why are they doing this?! Why do they sing, after I have slain their kin and ruined their holiday celebrations?! WHAT DOES IT MEAN?!"

Dirk stood tall, no longer the hunched stance he was taking earlier. Warmth dance through his body, the sort of warmth one gets when cuddling with one's mother, or sitting by the fire on a cold winter's night, at peace with the world. As Punch and Maisy watched, his wings glittered, throwing off silvery sparks as they flexed, and his eyes began to glow with the same light as he stared the bewildered demon down. The two gasped as they finally understood what was going on.

"I'll tell you what it means, lizard," retorted Dirk. "The elves have just shared their greatest gift with me. Something I didn't believe in until now, something that they can always hold onto no matter how dark things get. You can take away their homes, their presents, their decorations and their food, but there's one thing about Christmas that, no matter how much you try, you will never be able to take away from anyone. Because they will have it as long as they have each other, and you will never take it away because you just can't comprehend anything that isn't to do with subjugation or wanton destruction or your petty grudges.

See, Fyrros, the whole point of Christmas..."

"...is about love. A greater power even than yours."

"Welcome, Christmas, Fahoo Ramus!
Welcome, Christmas, Dahoo Damus!
Christmas Day will always be,
Just so long as we have we!"

Fyrros's eyelid twitched. His body began to shake. His fire spluttered fitfully.

"Wh... what kind of tripe is that?!" he spat at last. "What good is love when compared to the sheer power that I alone wield at my fingertips?! There is nothing more powerful than the Annuaki, Sons of Nibiru! Nothing can match our might, nothing can ever stand up against us! NOTHING!"

Finally at the end of his tether, the Conquerer of Worlds lifted an arm to put an end to-

CRACK!

"ARGH!" he howled as Dirk retracted his fist. Doubled over with pain, yellow blood dribbling from his maw, he looked up at the angel standing over him, and seemed to shrink as the eyes bored holes right through him. But most distressingly of all, his fire choked, spluttered and finally fizzled out, revealing the frail, old lizard beneath all that flame and grandeur, and the Nibirian began to shake with an almost palpable terror

"I'm sorry," Dirk grinned. "Was that your glubok?"

And then he moved.

Fyrros had absolutely no way to prevent what was coming next. One moment a foot was in his jaw. The next, a fist in his gut. The next, his toes were stamped on. The attacks came blindingly fast, faster than any right they had to come at him, and every blow either cracked something within his body or knocked him spinning on the spot. And Dirk kep that grin of his on his face all throughout, even as he pummelled the helpess Annunaki senseless, each blow delivering spikes of power that shook his opponent down to the bone.

Watching from a distance, Punchy and Maisy decided now was a brilliant time to give moral support.

"COME ON, DIRK!" hollered Punchy, hopping up and down. "SOCK IT TO HIM!"

"AND IT'S A LEFT!" cheered Maisy, a wild fire in her eyes. "AND A RIGHT! AND A JAB!"

"Woah, Maisy," cried Punchy, a little disturbed, "when did you get so bloodthristy?"

"WHO CARES?! GET HIM, DIRKY-BOY!"

-------

It had been travelling for many long centuries. Millenia, even.

But now, it was there.

The sandy-brown bulk of Nibiru heaved into sight as it approached Earth, on this fateful day that their orbits intersected. Many had predicted it's coming, some had dismissed it as flights of fancy or conspiracy theories, but none had believed that it had truly existed, until now, when they could see it clearly from the sky. Faster and faster it approached, dwarfing the blue-green orb with it's sheer size as it grew ever closer, blocking out the light of the sun with it's titanic mass.

All the planet waited with baited breath. Some had quietly accepted their fate, holding hands for comfort. Others had taken to praying in churches, hoping that tjeir deities could deliver them from the horror that was to come. Many more, unable to stand it all, had thrown themselves off buildings or shot themselves rather than face the predicted apocalypse. But all eyes were directed up at the massive interstellar object as it grew bigger and bigger in the sky, until they could see the faint outlines of countries and continents on it.

Nibiru passed by Earth...

...

...

...and went on it's way.

Nothing. No earthquakes, no tidal waves. No masses of alien beings descending from above, shrieking war-cries and brandishing laser beams. Not even so much as a UFO or Mothman to announce some terrible coming. Nibiru had passed by Earth without leaving so much as a mark.

There was a long, stunned silence.

"Well," said someone somewhere. "What a lot of bollocks."

-------

There was a crack as Dirk delivered a solid haymaker, and Fyrros grunted as he collapsed in the snow, yellow blood pouring from his wounds. Everything ached - his bones, his skin, his gas pocket and what remained of his glubok. His fire had gone out completely, and all of his strength had simply left him. But even if he had even an inkling of power left, he wouldn;t even have been able to pick himself up anyway, given the circumstances. He had bee beffudled, tricked, outwitted and bested in honourable one-on-one combat by a member of the same race that had driven his kin off of Earth long ago, along with forcees he didn't couldn't understand. And now, he had sensed that Nibiru had failed to even scratch the surface of Earth.

It was too much. He had lost the will to fight.

A hand clasped him by the throat and drew him up. Opening his eyes, he once more shrank into himself at the glare of Dirk Angelos, who towered over him like some avenging god or a stern teacher brandishing a bad report card. Raw power danced off of his skin and sizzled where his open wounds already stang in the cold. From the corner of his eye, he noticed an orangey glow coming over the horizon, and realized that the sun was coming up, in an almost symbolic mimicry of the events occuring right now on Lapulas.

"Now, listen here," came Dirk's voice. "I don't like you. Merry doesn't like you, Punch and Maisy don't like you, and I don't think any other one of those elves down there likes you. In fact," he went on as he hoisted the Annunaki higher up into the air, "I'm inclined to think nobody likes you. Which means you're not exactly welcome here, are you?"

Fyrros blinked, putting the pieces together.

"...mercy?"

Dirk's grin returned.

"Survey says: Fuck off!"

Then Fyrros's world span, and suddenly he was airborne, twisting through the early morning air as though he were a ragdoll thrown by a baby in a temper tantrum.

Dirk glowed as he lifted his hand up towards his airborne foe.

"You want joy, you overgrown iguana? Have all the joy on this planet! It's the gift that keeps on giving!"

Light gathered in his palm.

"Merry Fucking Christmas!"

And the sun was blotted out by the massive laser that soared upwards, that cut through the icy air and struck the Annunaki, engulfing him completely.

For a moment, there was nothing but white-hot agony.

"SO... MUCH... JOY..."

And then his world when white.

-------

As the laser died away, Dirk slowly lowered his arm, still staring fixedly at where Fyrros had been a few seconds ago. The morning sun was hot on his back, his feathers rustled in the cool breeze and his wounds no longer stung him in any measure. And for once, his soul was seemingly at peace. The thing that threatened his peaceful planet was gone, never to trouble anyone in the universe ever again, and Nibiru would not be doing any harm to Earth this year. Not only had he just saved one planet, he had saved two at once.

So yes, he felt pretty damned good.

Then he felt the power dissapate, leaking out of him as if he were a colander, Looking down, he watched as tendrils of gold flowed from his body and slink, snake-like, across the snow in all directions, shimmering like the real thing as they moved. Some slipped back into the earth, to filter back to the core of the planet from whence it came, while others, much to the angel's wonder, began to slip towards the village, which had long since ceased to burn and was now smoldering quietly away to itself. It moved, ghost-like, through the streets, splitting into even more pieces as it alighted on a wreck here, a corpse there, flitting from one to the other.

And then Dirk's jaw dropped.

"Holy shit."

The wrecked buildings were knitting themselves back together. Splinters formed shards, which formed entire beams that slotted together into walls. Roofs locked back into position, the burn marks fading away. The tinsel and decorations unraveled from their shrivelled states back into their former splendor, crumpled stalls shot to attention like soldiers and the crumple tree bloomed back into splendor. No doubt that the interiors of all the places that had been destroyed in the battle where restoring themselves too, carpets and curtains and other such things springing back into shape with every touch of the golden energy.

And in the streets, there were stirrings. Stirrings turned into movement, which turned into once-dead elves groaning in pain as they picked themselves up from the snow, holding their heads. Their groans soon changed into gasps of wonderment, however, as they saw the energy of Lapulas soaring over their heads, and understood that the thing that had tormented them was now gone forever. There was a thump and an "OW!" as Rosie Elf, restored at the exact point in the air she had been before death, fell from the sky and landed on somebody else.

One by one, the golden streams filtered back into the snow, vanishing with a shimmering of sparks until they had all gone.

"I get it now," breathed Dirk.

And he did.

Lapulas was alive...

Then he looked down, and saw the elves emerging from the forest and walking towards him in a bunch. As he watched, the walking turned into jogging, which tansformed into running, and before the angel knew it he was promptly swarmed by tiny, jingly elves, all of them cheering ag the tops of their voices and alternatively hugging and high-fiving him in turn. The commotion brought the ressurected elves from the village out in curiosity, wherupon they immediately joined in the celebrations and dashed forward to meet their saviour. Even the elderly elves, Grandfather Willow among them, reached up to shake his remaining hand with enough enthusiasm to almost take it off.

"YOU DID IT!" cried someone. "YOU SAVED OUR PLANET!"

"Three cheers for Dirk!" came Merry's voice from the crowd. "Hip-hip!"

"Hooray!"

"Hip-hip!"

"HOORAY!"

"Hip-hip!"

"HOORAY!" cheered all the elves in unison, and Dirk laughed aloud in joy as the did so. So what if he'd been dragged onto a planet he didn't understand or hadn't heard of before? So what if he'd lost an arm fighting an evil alien from Nibiru? He'd not only saved the Earth, but he'd saved Christmas, and all his friends from the King of Beasts, as well! And now everything was going to be just fine, and nobody was dead except the bad guy, and he'd learnt one of those Christmas Special Moral Lessons, too - that there is nothing more powerful than the love between people.

There was no way this day could get better.

"Oh, Dii-iirk~"

Dirk paused, and his trademark grin came over his face. The cheering stopped almost immediately.

"Aw, yeah," he chuckled. "It just got better." Turning on the spot, he pushed his way through the suddenly silent crowd until he found a space not occupied by hundreds of shocked elves. Standing there in the snow was Maisy, a sweet smile on her face and her baby-blue eyes gazing up at him as he approached, ignoring the stares of amazement from her kinfolk. Dirk's grin grew even wider at the sight, and he promptly dropped to his knees in front of her, his face level with hers and wings twitching in anticipation.

"So, handsome hero," the elf girl crooned, battering her eyelashes. "You ready for your reward?"

"Abso-total-lutely," was the angel's response, putting his hand on the brunette's cheek, and Maisy gave a little squeal with delight. Before he made his move, he took the opportunity to spare a quick glance at the elves around them, and almost laughed when he saw that each and every one of them bore expressions of horror or embarrassment on their faces. Merry, in particular, had turned red as a tomato, whilst Punchy had covered his face with both hands and was muttering something about cooties under his breath.

Prudes, the lot of them.

"Pay attention, ladies," he called out to those elf girls that might have been lurking somewhere in the audience. "This is how you reward a man when he saves your entire species and planet!" Getting no response (as he figured), the angel turned back to find that Maisy, unable to contain herself any longer, had already tightly shut her eyes and puckered her lips, leaning forward slightly in anticipation of the kiss. Good. That was just how he liked his rewards - served up with the minimum amount of fuss.

The crowd watched with baited breath as Dirk closed his eyes, leaned in...

-------

And woke up.

His head was thumping like a tribal drum, but he was definitely awake this time. He wasn't kneeling in the snow any more, he was on the living room couch, still sprawled in the same position he'd been whilst watching the faeries make out in the party. The arm that had been ripped off was actually still there, and not hurting in any actual way at all. And all of his clothes, right down to the chiton and laurel wreath, were still on him.

And, most dishearteningly of all, he wasn't about to make out with a cute elf girl.

That meant only one thing.

It had all been a dream. One big, stupid, Rophynol-based dream.

"God damn it," he groaned in irritation as he pushed himself upright, rubbing his head. "Only in a roofie-induced dream could something like that happen. Only there could I end up on a snowy planet inhabited by elf people! Only there could I fight against a flaming lizard-demon from Nibiru and beat him with the power of Christmas! And only there could I come anywhere close to actual first base with a female type of some persuasion! I mean, fucking hell, couldn't I have least woken up after we-

"...What?"

The last time Dirk had checked, most of the living room had been in a state of complete disrepair thanks to drug-induced shenanigans. Tables were covered in broken glasses and crumpled cans, the curtains had been torn down and sick and piss coated the walls and floor. But now that Dirk looked at it, he could see that the entire place was cleaner than even Pit was accustomed to keeping it. The walls were completely vomit-free, the tables were squeaky-clean and the curtains looked as thought no-one had tried ripping them down at all. Even the glasses looked like new, as if someone had magically glued them together without so much as a hairline crack to show the joins.

Dirk immediately got up and began to check the house.

Kitchen as it should be, with mopped floor and perfectly whole cutlery. Halls devoid of laser burns and Minotaur head holes. Dance floor completely intact and dry as a bone. The shark tank was unharmed, with it's new occupant trying to master the art of swimming through a glass wall. Bedrooms tidy and neat, with no torn pillows, broken springs or soiled sheets. And looking outside revealed no trace of Yig or his maniacal attempt to defy gravity. Even the Christmas decorations, from tinsel to tree to wreaths, were all in their proper position.

Looking down, Dirk made another discovery. Yes, it was true that his clothes were still whole, but now they were also completely free of beer and sick and without a burn or rip on them. A quick sniff of his chiton revealed the scent of fresh pine needles, an almost eerie echo of what had happened when he had awoken in Merry's hut in his... dream? The angel wasn't so sure about that now - he remembered that smell quite vividly, along with almost everything else. The meal at Merry's, the fight with Fyrros, the feeling of all that Christmas joy welling up inside him, the ringing of Maisy's voice in his ears...

What had happened? And who had fixed the house?

Dirk was still pondering this question when, upon re-entering the living room, he noticed the envelope on the coffee table. It wasn't that difficult to miss, considering he'd had a headache and all, but the Dark Angel did wonder how he'd managed to do such a thing, seeing as how the coffee table was the first thing he saw when he woke up. Curiously reaching down, he picked it up in one hand, noting the unusual wax seal on it - some sort of deer, he reckoned - and ripped it open with the other. A flash of red caught his eye, and his quickly took hold of the contents and yanked it out, revealing a folded piece of paper with red borders.

Unfolding it revealed it to be a letter, penned in old-fashioned quill ink. And this is what it read:

"Dirk Angelos,

My heartiest of thanks go out to you, my dear boy! When I recovered you from your house and took you back to my home planet of Lapulas, I will admit that I had my doubts. But you have shown me that even the most unlikeliest of people can become heroes, and no matter how gloomy things get there is always a glimmer of hope. My planet needed an angel to fight off the Annunaki, and you proved yourself to be a whole lot more than that. For saving my people from Fyrros, and by extension Earth and Christmas from Nibiru, I cannot thank you enough. Well done, indeed!

You know, the sad part is, I always did try to visit Nibiru after the Annunaki were exiled. However, the planet's residents - the Vulturites - weren't very accommodating. Kept trying to eat my reindeer and the presents! In the end, I just stopped trying - I couldn't risk myself getting devoured and disappoint all the children, you know. While I understand where Fyrros may have been coming from, that doesn't in the least bit excuse all the terrible things his kind has done over the years. In fact, I think a certain planet's headed for the Naughty List!

I'm afraid to say you passed out right before you could get anywhere with Maisy. Poor girl was frightfully upset about the whole thing, of course, but I promised her that if she was especially good, she could come and visit you, if she felt like it. I smartened you up with my healing magic, fixed your clothes and took you back the same way I fetched you - very quickly indeed, whilst there was time to spare. I also brought along some of my best elves along to fix up your house while you were asleep - wouldn't do to have your brother come back to a pigsty! You can thank Merry as chief craftsmen for the outstanding work.

Your new arm was designed by myself and built by Sparky, the village scientist and mechanic. It's forged from pure Klausium coated in synthetic skin - 100% guaranteed waterproof and resistant to extremes of heat and cold. It's built directly into your muscular and nervous system, so it feels and reacts like a real arm, and also contains a built-in thaumic converter to allow you to keep using your magic with it. It also has a custom-built plasma cannon in the forearm - it should activate on a mental signal of "Power on", although you can program it to respond to voice commands as well. Always pays to be prepared when you're a Kobber!

Well, I must dash - Rudolph is getting impatient, and I must start my deliveries. Perhaps I shall see Nibiru pass by Earth while I'm about it - no ill effects, of course. See you on Christmas Eve, all being well! And remember to lay off the Rophynol, or you might not get that mountain bike you've been wanting this year!

A Merry Christmas from all on Lapulas,

- Christopher "Santa Claus" Kringle."

Dirk stared.

Then he lifted his arm and looked carefully at it. It still looked like his arm, and he could still feel it as he flexed the fingers, but...

Power on.

With a whirr, the skin split open, and a shining tube emerged from the slot left in the forearm. It looked like something that should belong in a modern-art museum - the sort of thing Wheatley would be proud of - but at the same time, it's design carried an air of menace about it. There was no doubt that white-hot death came from one end of it, and whatever was on the receiving end probably wouldn't be getting up again any time soon. It glowed like a miniature furnace from within.

A smile crossed Dirk's face, even as the corner of his ears picked up the sound of Ferrari California tyres on the gravel driveway.

"Fucking ace."

 ~THE END~

 

"Oi, SK! How about we give the readers some awesome Christmas music to read the credits by?"

 

I'm way ahead of you, Dirk.

 

 

~ YOU HAVE BEEN READING DIRKMAS~

A Zoofights Roleplay Side-Story

Inspired by Team Four Star's "Christmas Tree of Might" and "Episode of Bardock Abridged"

Written by Steel Komodo

 

~WITH THE VOICE TALENTS OF~

 

ANTONIO DEL RIO as Dirk Angelos

 

ELIJAH WOOD as Merry Elf

 

BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH as Lord Fyrros

 

JOHN C. REILY as Punchy Elf

 

FRANK WELKER as The Predators and The Minotaur

 

KAT STEEL as Maisy Elf

 

YIG, FATHER OF SERPENTS as Himself

 

and introducing KYLE HEBERT as Santa Claus

 

~FEATURING THE FOLLOWING MUSIC~

 

"Shots" by LMFAO and Li'l John

 

"Firebender" by Immediate Music

 

"Divine Hatred" from Devil May Cry 3 by Capcom

 

"Welcome Christmas" from How the Grinch Stole Christmas!

 

"Deck the Halls" by Twisted Sister

 

"Have a Holly Jolly Christmas" by Burl Ives

 

~ THANKS FOR READING!~

 

 ~MERRY CHRISTMAS!~