"I... Hate... CHRISTMAS!"
...
...
"...the fuck?!"
We now return to your regularly scheduled programme...
-------
For a few minutes, there was utter silence. Nobody spoke - not the seven-foot-tall, firey demon-lizard thing, nor the Dark Angel who I think is meant to be our hero, nor the miniscule elves who, up until now, had been as chatty as a comedian on a sugar high. The only sounds to hear were the wind whistling across the landscape and the crackle of the fires still burning across the village. The lizard creature swung hus burning tail back and forth as he glared at each and every one of the crowd in front of him, the light from his flaming body illuminating the snow and buildings around him. An intense heat melted the snow beneath his claws all the way down to the earth, baking it solid.
And then Dirk spoke again. This time in a much more serious tone, fully understanding what he was facing.
"This is new, I gotta admit," he announced as he stepped forward from the throng of terrified elves to face the invader. "But here you are - a reall live Annunaki. I thought you and your planet were just an invention of coked-up basement dwellers."
The Annunaki's reptillian face twisted into a mocking sneer. "I could say the same for you, Low Angel," he growled, his voice like rocks tumbling down a hill with violence on their minds. "I thought your race fled back to Skyworld after the Purge, like the cowardly pigeons you are."
"Hey!" snapped Dirk, clenching his fists. "Let's trade names before the racist insults, okay? The name's Angelos. Dirk Angelos. And you are?"
A grin spread across the Annunaki's jaws. "I," he retorted with a grandiose sweep of the arm, "am Lord Fyrros! Son of Nibiru, Conquerer of Worlds, Destroyer of Life!" And with each title, his body flared brightly, each blast of fire threatening to start a new conflagration among the log cabins and forcing the elves to step back from the intense heat and light radiating from his reptillian form.
("That is so hot!" cried a voice from the back.
"Maisy, I swear to Kringle!" howled another elf.)
Dirk merely snorted at the pyrotechnic display. "As pompous as I thought you'd be. Now spill it - what the fuck have you got against these-?"
"OH NO!" shrieked a hysterical voice from the back. "HE'S GOT ROSIE!"
Dirk's eyes snapped downward. Sure enough, pinned by the head underneath one of Fyrros' talons, lay a terrified, bloodstained elf girl, her coppery hair matted with melting snow and blood and her face contorted in pain and terror from the heat of the Annunaki's body. How Dirk failed to notice this tiny detail sooner, we shall never know, but upon seeing Rosie trapped beneath the alien monster's foot the Dark Angel immediately began mentally cursing himself for his failure to act. If he'd have noticed sooner...
"Alright, fuck explanations," he snapped. "Just hand over that elf and we can walk away happy."
"Oh?" With a sudden deft flick of his foot, Fyrros threw the terrified Rosie into the air, idly catching her by the head and holding her, screaming, in front of the gathering. "This elf?"
"Yes!" came a chorus of voices. "That elf!"
The alien's grin widened, almost ear-to-ear. "Oh, I wouldn't go near her, if I was you," he drawled almost conversationally. "She seems to have come down with a terrible case..."
And with that, Fyrros tossed the limp elf girl towards the crowd with the same sort of power one expects from a steroid-enhanced baseball pitcher. The unfortunate elf shrieked as she sailed over the heads of the crowd, arms and legs waving in a futile attempt to steady or direct her flight path to somewhere that didn't involve large amounts of pain. As one, the rest of the elves turned on the spot, tripping over each other and getting tangled up in their haste to try and rescue their comrade, wilst the more sensible Dirk spread his wings and leapt, hoping to catch Rosie mid-air before she-
"...of explosions."
KABOOM
The flaming blast came quite literally out of nowhere. Knocked off-balance by the sheer force, Dirk gave a shout as he was thrown backwards, tumbling head-over-heels as he fell from the sky in a deluge of feathers. Thankfully, he was quickly able to recover his balance before hitting the ground, handing on both feet and avoiding any major injury. The elves, however, were toppled over like dominos by the shockwaves, collapsing into piles even as they cried in horror at the fate of their sister elf, the heat and light washing over them.
All assembled could only stare as the explosion where Rosie Elf had once been slowly dissapated, gently dusting the area with ash and filling the air with smoke.
"...Is that contagious?" asked the elf with the broken saxophone voice. "Because I really don't want to catch that."
Bile rose in Dirk's throat as he stared at the empty air, clenching his fists. Rosie hadn't done anything to offend anyone, as far as he knew, and yet that firey wanker had seen fit to simply dispose of her as if she were no more than garbage. And from the manic look in the Annunaki's eye, he'd enjoyed doing it, too! Dirk had come into conflict with a lot of things in his time at the King of Beasts - robots, actual gods, giant monsters - but this... Crazy Granddad Reggie had told him stories of the Annunaki's penchant for sadism and brutality, but not one of them had prepared him for the level of cold-blooded heartlessness Fyrros had just demonstrated. One thing was clear - the Nibirian...
...was a prick.
A deep, bellowing laugh cut into the dark engle's thoughts like a semi truck speeding into a McMecho's. Turning on the spot, Dirk witnessed Fyrros holding his own scaly sides, shaking with manic laughter that rattled the rubble around him.
"What's the big joke?" snapped the Dark Angel, now thoroughly angry.
"I just love how easy it is to get away with all this!" Fyrros crowed. "I mean, I knew you pigeons were cowards, but I didn't believe I'd walk over you this easily!" He stepped towards the amassed crowd, and the elves stepped back with cries of terror, now thoroughly frightened of the Annunaki for what he had done to the late Rosie.
"I want to burn down half a village," continued the alien, "and you let me! I want to massacre half it's population - you sit there and let me! I want to bring my planet onto a collision course with yours," and here Fyrros' voice came as a thunderous, earth-shaking roar as his body flared at an almost blinding light, "and you just sit right there and let me!"
The light was so intense that Elf and Dirk alike had to shield their eyes from it, else they all would have most likely been blinded. But even as he winced from the pain, Dirk felt something click in the back of his mind. He was recalling some faint memory from when he was a child, of Grandad Reggie sitting him on his lap and, in his thick Irish brogue, talking about something massive and unstoppbale and...
"Woah, back the fuck up," he called out, hoping to stop the Annunaki mid-rant. This seemed to be successful, as the lizard quickly dropped his fire and turned his head towards the Low Angel. Good - he was no longer truing to blind anyone and his attention was away from the elves.
Now here came the big question. "What was that about your planet and mine?"
"Oh, did nobody tell you?" Fyrros's eyes narrowed as he glared at the dark angel. "I guess you pigeons reall are as dense as you look. In a few days from now..."
"You're expositing, aren't you?" asked Dirk.
"...Planet Nibiru's orbit is going to intersect that of Planet Earth's. Normally, the two planets would bypass each other with no effect whatsoever, in complete defiance of the laws of physics. And our scientists believe..."
"Jesus dick, you're expositing," groaned Dirk.
"...this planet is the whole reason why Nibiru's greater gravity doesn't completely obliterate Earth - it's generating some kind of gravitational shield. We don't know why or how," the monster admitted with a sort of shrug, "but we all decided there and then that, in order to kill the weed we had to go for the root."
Click. And suddenly everything made perfect sense.
"I get it now," snarled Dirk, taking a step forward and fluttering his wings in threat. "You guys blow up Lapulas, and that lets Nibiru rip Earth apart with it's stronger gravity. Tidal waves, earthquakes, lava flows, the works. Then you shunt your planet into Earth's old orbit and take over, am I right?"
"I'm impressed," growled Fyrros, baring his teeth. "I figured that all those years of being stranded on Earth would have addled your brains. But it seems you're just the same interfering feathred rats as always."
A long, awful pause. And in that pause, the Dark Angel realized what he had to do. Fyrros was, quite clearly, a threat to not just Lapulas and the Earth, but a threat to the entire universe. And while Dirk was not usually the sort of person to apply those kiddy labels of "good" and "evil" to anything, the sheer callousness the Annunaki had shown in the few minutes he had been on the planet definitely deserved some kind of award in the latter category. He'd be buggered, quite frankly, if he was going to let the Nibrians get away with their half-baked schemes, even though he had no idea what this had to do with Christmas or why Fyrros apparently hated so much.
There was only one thing for it - he was going to have to kick some arse.
But first things first. The elves behind him were going to have to get as far away from the village as possible. During his time at the King of Beasts, Dirk had only used the mixed Martial Arts techniques learned over his brother's life because using the Low Angel's natural magic would have been somewhat overkill. But now, facing an extremely powerful alien entity without so much as a pair of Orbitars on him, the youngest Angel Twin was going to have to go all out. The results would not be pretty, and no way was he going to let the villagers be caught in the crossfire. It made him sick to think of what lives could be lost in a battle like this.
"Merry," he called over his shoulder. "Take all the survivors you can. Get them out of this village and into the forest. And don't come out until you see me coming out of the village, or what's left of it. Understand?"
"But what about-?" a concerned Merry began to say.
"I said fucking move!" snapped Dirk. And that was all the cue the elves needed. Merry promptly took to his heels, ushering those elves who could still walk or be assisted into a big huddle, assisited by other, older elves who seemed to want to look important for some reason. With much panicked muttering and jingling of bells, the village began to empty itself of living residents, each one making a slow but steady path up towards the woods and out of the area.
"Aw, look at that," purred Fyrros almost mockingly. "Sending them all away to fight me alone. Of course, you do realize how gutless that is? After all," added the beast, grinning wide enough to show all of his teeth at once, "suicide is the-"
"Shut the fuck up."
Fyrros recoiled from the insult, momentarily stunned. Then a grackled chuckle rolled from his ancient lungs. "Spirited, I see," he retorted. "Let's see if that will save you when I turn your body to ash."
"You're welcome to try, fuckface."
The shouting and jingling of the retreating elves died away until the sounds of their hurried exodus died away into the distance. This left only two people in the street. On one side, Dirk, his ebony feathers rustling in the breeze, his brown eyes narrowed in hatred for the alien being in front of him. On the other, Fyrros, his body burning brightly against the snow, his tail lashing impatiently as he awaited what was next to come. Both knew that, here and now, a rivalry as ancient as time itself was to be ressurected - one side seeking galactic domination and the other standing in the way. The fate of Lapulas, and indeed Earth, depended on the outcome of this fight.
A sudden wind howled through the streets, casting driving snow across the landscaoe and fanning the still-burning blaze that was engulfing the elve's once-proud village.
That was the signal.
One minute, both had been standing still. The next, Fyrros squawked as a fist slammed into his chin, throwing his head back and knocking him off balance, staggering. The instant he heard the lizard-being's teeth clack together, the Dark Angel quickly ducked low and rammed his other fist into the scaly gut, ignoring the pain as the white-hot flesh left a horrible red burn upon his skin. The Annunaki doubled over with a cough, and Dirk was quick to follow his attack with a wild elbow that nevertheless struck Fyrros in the side of the head, sending the demon sprawling to the snow. With an almost triumphant laugh, Dirk dropped down with every intention of bashing the Nibirian's teeth out.
But in the next instant a blast of intense fire struck him in the chest and knocked him backwards, and had he not quickly spread his wings in order to keep his balance, he would have ended up on his back. As the angel recovered his footing, pain singing through the horrible burn on his chest, the alien warlord rose to his feet, his hand still glowing from the flaming blast he had just launched. Yellowish blood was oozing crom a cut on the Annunaki's lip, his feathery crest had been knocked askew and a snarl of indignation had formed on his reptillian face.
"I see how you could have drove us away from Earth," Fyrros snarled, flames flickering intensely. "But I am nothing like my forefathers, pigeon!"
With a roar, the Annunaki lunged forward with almost blinding speed, a fist swinging towards Dirk like a sledgehammer. But that fist impacted not with a face, as was the intention, but with the reinforced armguards that the angel was almost never seen without. Dirk had blocked just in time, and even thought the bone-shuddering impact sent waves of pain up his arms, the plucky Dark Angel remained on his feet. Snarling with frustration, Fyrros twisted on the spot, seeking to drive one of his taloned feet right into the teenage celebrity's gut and-
A sudden pressure on his tail made him stall, gasping with the shock.
"Hah!" cried a voice from behind him. "Got your tail!" Fyrros looked over his shoulder, and sure enough, Dirk had grabbed a hold of the Nibirian's whip-like tail with both hands, clutching it with an unbelivably strong grip in just the right spot to avoid being burned. The angel wore a cocky smirk on his face, as if he knew that this act alone had given him a significant advantage - no matter which way the alien twisted, he couldn't writhe his way out of his opponen't grasp.
"You..." spluttered Fyrros, twisting as though someone had dumped a bucket of live tarantulas on his head. "Do you think this is a game, you walking feather-duster?! I could snap your bones like twigs, yet you dare to toy with me?!"
Dirk seemed to ignore the threats entirely. "Speaking of games," he replied as he tightened his grip on the lashing tail, "Ever played Super Mario 64?"
Fyrros paused, clearly confused. "Well, yes, but I fail to see the- AAAAAAGH!"
The next thing the bewilered Annunaki knew, the world was a blur, and Dirk was swinging him around like a sack of potatoes. So fast was he revolving that the snow was literally sucked up into the cone of air created by the spinning angel, forming a powdery-white tornado that engulfed our hero(?) momentarily as he increased his speed, his screaming captive turning into a reddish ring around a black blur. Then there was a jerk, and Fyrros found himself flung right into the side of another log cabin, smashing straight into the wall and leaving a splintery hole in the side.
Dizzy as he was, Dirk wasted no time in following the attack up. His laurel crown glowed brightly as, with a cry, he lashed out with both hands, firing a volley of violet-coloured spheres that surged forward, homing in on the building and striking with deafening explosions. Every impact threw up a blinding cloud of dust and debris, and the ground shook with the sheer force of the blows. As the house was shortly obliterated, Dirk's laurel crown faded back to it's original hue, the Low Angel staggering as he sought to catch his senses and his breath from launching such an attack. Using all that magic took a lot out of an angel.
The dust took quite a long time to settle, some blowing away on the wind whilst heavier particles settled on the snow like black sugar dusting. But even after it had all cleared away, giving a perfectly clear view of the rubble, no sign of Dirk's enemy became apparent. The angel patiently waited for a few seconds, muscls tense with expectation, but no glimpse of the pyromaniacal Destroyer of Life made itself known. Not even a limb sticking out of the wreckage or a flash of tail. The whole area had become oddly quiet after the echoes of the Homing Shots had faded.
"Huh," mused Dirk. "Guess for all his bragging and titles, he was really kind of a pussy. Suppose I'd better go and- AUGH!"
The cry came as a fist suddenly drove itself into his gut. Fyrros had burst out of the wreckage at a speed not even the angel could comprehend, and the enraged fire demon was quick to take revenge for his earlier indignation - grabbing an Annunaki's tail is one of the worst insults imaginable. The blow drove the wind out of Dirk, causing him to double over from the pain, but his oppresor was far from finished with him, and a taloned kick to the temple was enough to simultaneoulsy draw blood and send the angel tumbling sideways across the snow like a feathery bowling ball, limbs and snow flying in every direction.
"NO-ONE HUMILIATES A SON OF NIBIRU AND LIVES!" thundered Fyrros, steam and smoke literally spewing from his jaws and nostrils with every word. Rearing back, the Nibirian conquerer lifted both hands aboth his head, a harsh light gathering between his palms that illuminated the rapidly-darkening sky with it's prescence. Then, with a bellow of rage, the flaming alien lunged forward, and the lights of the burning village itself was blotted out by the glare of the monstrous fireball that careered down the street, melting the snow and starting fresh fires as it careered towards it's destination.
"Shit, shit, SHIT!" Galvanized by the sight of the flaming projectile headed towards him, Dirk leapt to his feet and bolted in terror, feet going fifty to the dozen. The heat of the attack licked at his feathers as he ran down the street, his dialogue reduced to even more incoherant swearing than it usually was as his eyes cast this way and that, searching for some way to escape the boulder-sized fireball that was literally hot on his heels. But the thing was getting closer and closer, his feathers beginning to smoulder as it caught up with him, and it seemed as though there was no way to escape.
Then, just as though it seemed he would be overtaken, he saw the alleyway.
And leapt.
-------
Far ahead, trudging towards the woods, the elves cried in horror as a massive plume of fire and smoke arose from their rapidly-disintergreating village. Even as the cacophonic sound of the explosion hammered down on their ears, and even as the shockwaves threatened to knock them off of their feet, the amassed survivors could only stare and watch, wondering what had become of the angel who had come to save them.
"Should we go back?" piped a voice like a xylophone being played.
"Are you dense, Handy?!" hollered the voice of an elder, like a rusty gate hinge. "Do you want to get killed out there?!"
"But we can't just leave him!" cried another elf. "He needs help! If he keeps fighting that horrible Nibirian like this, he'll be killed for sure!"
"And how do you plan to help him, Parsley?" came the reply.
A horrible silence fell. The elves knew they had no answer to that question - those who had dared stand against Fyrros had suffered the worst, with snapped necks and torn limbs that ensured agonizing injuries instead of the flaming deaths many of their others had experienced. Some had survived, groaning in agony, to be carried and escorted by the healthy survivors towards their refuge, but the majority had perished from their wounds long before Dirk had arrived. As much as it pained them to leave their new friend behind, there was simply no way they could assist him in direct combat.
"We just have to have faith, fellows," rattled the elder's voice from within the crowd. "All we can do now is hope that the angel can drive Fyrros away. Now let's hurry up - I think I heard a bear rustling close by!"
This was not, strictly speaking, true - that particular elder was famed for hearing bears everywhere he went due to a childhood prank gone awry. But young elves are extremely gullible even at the best of times, and thanks to the invading Nibirian these elves were jumpier than a herd of kangaroos on a sugar high. A terrible sense of unease came over them all, and they began to pick up the pace, running faster towards the woods and bunching together to support the weak and injured.
None of them noticed a small gaggle of them peel away and, once they were sure they wouldn't be noticed, turn and dash back to the village.
-------
"Come now, pigeon, I've waited long enough! Fight me face-to-face and save some dignity!"
From within the alleyway he'd taken refuge in, Dirk slowly stood up and dusted the snow from his body, nervously eying the smoking crater left behind by the fireball. The dark angel had not escaped unscathed - the back of his chiton was shredded by shrapnel from the explosion, his body was covered in dirt and his wings and hair were a dishevelled mess. Blood flowed from grazes on his body and the claw marks on his temple and his hands and knees had been scraped rather badly. All-in-all, not the best condition he'd been in ever - he currently resembled Pit after the average encounter with a horde of fangirls.
But his mind was far away from that as he leant against the wall of a cabin, trying to get his breath back.
Fucking hell, he thought to himself. Grandad Reggie didn't say the Nibirians were this strong. He'd been prepared for a tought fight to protect Lapulas and the elves, yes, but Fyrros was proving himself to be no pushover, not by any means. That stuff with the fireball, the inexplicable speed and reflexes... this shit was clearly cribbed from a Dragon Ball Z episode! And as much as he liked that show, Dirk didn't fancy being on the end of something like that again. That fireball alone would have most likely killed him were it not for his quick thinking and reflexes, and who knows what other tricks the Annunaki had?
One thing was for certain. No way could Dirk take that thing in a straight-up fight, or he'd be turned into Spicy Angel Wings before he could say Jack Knife. No, if he was to stand any chance of beating Fyrros he was going to have to play it sneaky. He'd have to try and catch the alien by surprise, engaging him in a guerrilla war and not giving him the proper battle he craved. It was a risky, almost desperate strategy, but what other choices were there?
With slow, deliberate steps, Dirk began to manoeuvre his way down the alley he'd ducked into. Unlike the rest of the village, which either had lanterns to guide the way or was on fire, there was no light to see by except for that which the full moon cast down from above, so the place was perpetually in shadow. The Dark Angel tried to move as silently as possible, putting his feet down gently to avoid the telltale crunching noises of feet on snow, but the lack of light meant he had to grope his way along, one hand against the wood of what he assumed to be another log cabin as he trudged in order to keep on course.
"Enough of this!" Fyrros's voice sounded closer now, his voice laced with irritation. "Stop hiding in the shadows and face me!"
Fat chance of that, matey, Dirk thought to himself as he turned a corner. A series of slanted lights greeted his eyes, each one indicating the gaps between buildings, and the Low Angel moved as quickly and lightly as he could, practically skipping across the snow as he moved back the way he ran to escape the fireball. A glowing lightWith any luck, he'd be right behind the Annunaki before he'd known what was going on, and then he could finish this nonsense as soon as it had start-
Snap.
Dirk looked quickly down at the piece of wood beneath his foot, snapped in two, and groaned internally.
"Bugger," he hissed.
"I'll say," came a voice from in front of him.
Dirk look up just in time to get a face-full of leering eyes and grinning jaws before an elbow rammed itself into his face. There was a crunch as his nose broke, and the angel howled as he staggered, clutching the broken organ with one hand and trying to vainly defend himself with one hand. It was all for naught, for in the next instant he doubled over as sharp claws sliced through his chiton and ripped gouges in his skin that sang with burning pain, blood gushing from the wounds.
"Fool!" roared Fyrros as he grabbed the Low Angel by the hair and promptly rammed his head into the wall. "Did you really think you could sneak up on a Son of Nibiru?!" And with that, he twisted on the spot and hurled the angel right out of the alley and into the street, sprawling into the snow. The Annunaki straightened up and, his fire dimming, paced calmly out himself, stopping only to casually kick the corpse of an elf aside with one foot.
Dirk slowly staggered to his feet, trailing blood as he faced down his tormentor, a grim expression on his face. One hand reached up to yank the tattered remains of the chiton from his body and cast them aside, leaving him in his scuffed and ripped shirt and shorts. Not the sort of thing you'd wear for battle, or even winter, but it was what he was wearing at the time, and there was really no time to trade fashion tips right now.
"Okay," the angel growled, spitting out a tooth. "You're tougher than I thought. But I'm still kicking your arse back to Nibiru."
"You're welcome to try, whelp," Fyrros snarled, hunkering down.
Both charged.
-------
"Are you sure this is the right thing to do, Merry?"
"I'm positive, Sparky. We can't sit by and do nothing if Dirk is in trouble. I couldn't live with myself otherwise, and I don't think any of you could, either."
"But we can't fight that thing! He made mincemeat of half the entire village!"
'I'm not saying we should, Punchy. I know that Fyrros could be more than a match for Dirk, but we have to help him any way we can."
"Do you think he'd be happy if I did mouth-to-mouth on him?"
"Seriously, Maisy! In a bag! Off a cliff!"
"Quiet, you lot! We're almost there..."
-------
"Surrender, Low Angel scum! I have the advantage!"
"Advantage, my finely-tuned arse! I've still got plenty of fight!"
The last hour or so would be hard to describe in detail. Simply put, it had been a battle that would have given the average movie choreographer to rend his shirt, scream with jealousy and retire on the spot. The sort of fight where no quarter is asked, given or expected, as the enraged Fyrros lashed out with brutal blows, which were returned in kind by the stalwart Dirk. A claw swipe. A barring defense. A grapple for control. A push that sent the defender reeling back. A focused explosion of magical energy that consumes empty air. A combat roll to avoid a surging fireball. For every attack dealt, the combatants would return it in equal measure.
And yet, as the bettle progressed, it soon became apparent that for all his determination, Dirk was beginning to tire much quicker. Most of the enemies he had faced back in Manhattan had never been as strong as the Annunaki, usually requiring no more than one of the angel brother's shared weapons or self-taught martial arts to take down. Never before had the Dark Angel been subjected to such a grueling fight, where his magic reserves had come into play as frequently as they had just for the sake of keeping on par with this foe. And after the last hour of battle, the strain was beginning to show - his reflexes were dulled, his attacks lacked force and swung wide, and his breath was coming in ragged gasps that spoke of exhaustion beyond measure. And let's not even go into the state of his clothing right now.
Something had to give.
And it did, as Dirk eventually swung out with a wild haymaker that came out too far, and was caught with one clawed hand that held the fist like a vice. The next thing the angel knew, a retaliatory jab delivered to the midsection resulted in a hideous popping noise and an agonising pain like scorpions eating away at the insides - some viral organ had just given out. Dirk doubled over in the Nibirian's grasp, gagging, and his laurel crown flickered like a faulty Christmas light before fading into darkness with an almost solemn finality.
"I'm sorry," chuckled the Nirbiran, "was that your glubok?"
Dirk hissed, and tried to launch an energy blast to shut the flaming warlord up.
Nothing. Not even a spark. He didn't even feel the magical power welling up, just an increase in the terrible pain that was trickling through his body. Trying for an explosive wave had the same effect, with no result other than a burning sensation along his arm, and when he desperately tried to mimic the spell Pit had used to turn his girlfriend's tormentor into a Tempura shrimp, he almost vomited as foul-tasting bile surged up his throat and threatened to choke him for even trying.
His magic was gone.
"Oh, yes!" Fyrros could barely contain the sadistic laughter. "That was your glubok! I might have guessed!"
The next moment, the Annunaki yanked on his captive's arm, and there was a horrible riping noise as the entire limb was torn from it's socket. Dirk screamed as he lost all sensation from that limb, blood spurting from the ragged stump onto the snow, but his torment wasn't over yet. With a piercing crack, a taloned foot rammed into the back of the angel's head, driving him face first into the floor and pinning him completely to the ground by his own skull.
"Enough of this charade," snarled Fyrros as he loomed over his fallen foe. "What were you thinking, challenging an Annunaki to single combat? You had no idea of the kind of power you pitted yourself against. You didn't even have a clue as to why I was here in the first place, do you?"
The savage claws dug into the prone angel's head, the burning heat from Fyross's body threatening to set his hair alight. Dirk winced as his face was pushed into the ground, but his spirit remained defiant. "All I heard," he spat, voice muffled by the snow "was a giant orange tampon going 'Look at me, I'm a flaming lizard alien! I blow up planets and hate Christmas because I'm a big prick!'"
"And who wouldn't be," came the reply, "after all the injustices we've suffered? Surely your own forefathers told you something of this, or was it omitted from your libraries like everything else about us?! During our time ruling Earth..."
"Holy fuck, again with the exposition?" howled Dirk in a mixture of pain and exasperation.
"...our ancestors revelled in the Christmas celebrations the same way the humans did! Of course, it wasn't the same as it was now, but the spirit of the thing, that was the same - the never-changing feeling one associates with it. Our fathers and their fathers before them have told our generation so many wonderful stories about the one called Santa Claus. Of the presents he would bring to all beings in the galaxy on his magical carriage pulled by flying deer! Of the joy! Of the merriment!"
The foot shoved down, and Dirk howled as the talons pierced his flesh.
"THAT WE WERE DENIED!
It wasn't enough to be driven from the planet like dogs by a bunch of stinking pigeons, was it?! Or cursed throughout the galaxy as warmongers and barbarians?! No, we also had to be abandoned by the one being who actually cared about us, who saw us as equals among the other races instead of power-mad tyrants! Imagine that, Low Angel! Imagine, after being driven to the darkest corner of the universe, that you waited and waited for a sign from the one you looked up to as a father figure, and to still be waiting a thousand years afterwards because he'd turned his back on your kind! A puppy being kicked doesn't experience nearly the same amount of pain!"
Dirk, beat-up as he was, tried to piece this all together, and rejected most of what he found as incredibly fucking stupid.
"Seriously?" The Dark Angel struggled to rise despite the pain and his lack of an arm. "You're going to destroy Christmas and cause the apocalypse over that? That literally has to be the worst fucking attempt at playing the victim I've ever heard in my entire life. It was their own fault the Annunaki got driven off Earth like that - they shouldn't have been conquering and subjugating those poor Mayans all over the place! Seriously, Dr. Seuss gave the Grinch a better motivation than that, and the guy wasn't even on fire!"
"If we cannot celebrate Christmas the same way our ancestors did," growled Fyrros from above, "then no-one in the universe shall, either! Of course, I never expected you to understand - you and your filthy kind were always concerned more about yourselves than your fellow beings! How glad am I that your miserable race never left Earth!"
A pause. A long, awful pause, in which the wind howled, the fires of the burning village flickered in the distance and Dirk's svered arm dripped blood.
"Y'know," retorted the angel at last, coughing on blood and dust, "I wish I could same thing about you. The whole universe would have been a nice place if you'd never fucking left the dimension you came from, you know? Maybe planets like Lapulas wouldn't have to live in fear, and then you'd just be a bunch of bogey-men everyone would tell their children about at bedtime. A bunch of heartless, maniacal, bloodthirsty Scrooges that existed only in nightmares."
"Well, then," rumbled Fyrros as he lifted an arm.
Fire gathered at his fingertips.
"Bah, humbug."
The scream echoed round the valley.
And when the light faded, Dirk was still sprawled on the ground. Unmoving, unresponsive and covered in burns.
"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."
TO BE CONTINUED...
