The following is set in the BrikVerse, the community based setting for the BrikWars wargame. It was written for the 2016 BrikFiction Festival held on that community's forums.
MFS stepped down slowly from his rocket sleigh. The shock absorbers groaned under his mighty girth as the whole thing bowed on one side to let him out. The sleigh sprang back into position and his thick, black, shitkicker boots crunched into the pure white snow as he moved a couple of paces away. The sounds were muted against the howling wind. He chewed on his thick cigar and squinted against the driving snowstorm, sweeping his gaze about steadily and suspiciously. Something was wrong. Santa had long ago learned to trust his instincts. They were never wrong. Slowly, he reached one massive paw up and wrapped it around the handle of the sawed off shotgun that always rode just above his left shoulder. His other hand went for the combat knife at his hip.
MFS stepped down slowly from his rocket sleigh. The shock absorbers groaned under his mighty girth as the whole thing bowed on one side to let him out. The sleigh sprang back into position and his thick, black, shitkicker boots crunched into the pure white snow as he moved a couple of paces away. The sounds were muted against the howling wind. He chewed on his thick cigar and squinted against the driving snowstorm, sweeping his gaze about steadily and suspiciously. Something was wrong. Santa had long ago learned to trust his instincts. They were never wrong. Slowly, he reached one massive paw up and wrapped it around the handle of the sawed off shotgun that always rode just above his left shoulder. His other hand went for the combat knife at his hip.
Something light and powder blue
skittered between the big man's feet. He almost didn't see it in the
dark and the flurry of snow but the dancing lights of the borealis in
the sky provided more than enough illumination to see by and Santa
had a sharp eye for these kinds of things. His gaze tracked the
skittering object behind him for several feet. It had slid to a stop
just under the main chassis of the sleigh. He tilted his head and
stared at the object in confusion for a moment. It was an egg. An
Easter Egg. Realization dawned in his eyes and he whirled around,
yanking the shotgun free from its holster. “Easter Bu--!”
The egg exploded in a cacophonous
column of fire that enveloped and consumed the hot rod red rocket
sleigh. The force of the explosion lifted the jolly old elf right up
off the ground and flung him face first several dozen feet forward
into a snow drift. His weapons were yanked from his grip and
spiraled off into the darkness. The night again fell silent save for
the warm, cheery cackling of the sleigh and Santa's favorite
sleeveless fur jacket on fire like a Yule log burning in the frigid,
arctic land. The snowstorm was really beginning to develop, however,
and the fires soon died down. Santa's flaming ensemble even went out
completely. He was still for almost a whole minute before he let out
a groan and pushed himself to his hands and knees.
A figure, all in white, appeared before
him with no more announcement than the snow on the wind. MFS sat
back on his haunches, wiped snow and ice from his eyes, and took a
good long look. He began to chuckle, a low, dangerous sound that
would have turned almost anyone's bowels to a bowl full of jelly.
The figure before him merely stood with a calm patience and waited it
out. It was dressed in a white camouflage tactical outfit. Tight
fitting, shinobi shouzoku, probably Space Ninja make. The hands and
feet were unclothed, the furry white paws too big and impractical to
fit inside such an outfit. The hood was split at the top and two
giant, floppy, white rabbit ears sprouted forth from it, tied up
together in a kind of topknot. A katana fell across the snow ninja's
back, held in place by a leather cross strap. Santa could see it was
one of his, very likely the one he forged for Bunny back in '78. The
wakazashi was replaced with a thigh holster for the silenced pistol
the figure had drawn and held ready. “How's the anime subforum
treating you?” MFS quipped.
“What?”
“Nothing. Look, just what in the
hell do you think you're doing, Bunny? You know I just rebuilt the
engine in that thing.” Santa jerked a thumb over his shoulder at
the flaming wreck still burning behind him.
Bunny's gaze tracked to the wreckage
and he said nothing for several moments. He was just still, the fire
dancing in his eyes. Santa, for his part, seemed to realize his coat
was half burned away and pulled what remained of it from his unmarked
torso. Grumbling, he plopped back down onto the snow to catch his
breath. Bunny finally flicked his attention back to Santa and the
present. “You know,” the Easter Bunny spoke in slow and measured
tones, “I told them all it was foolish to attack during Christmas.
You've been doing this for years. You're at the top of your game
round about this time. And you know it's coming because it always
does. They're predictable...the other Holidays. Like clockwork.
And they only ever seem to remember you're the goddamn best when it's
your time to shine. Jealous, self centered fools.”
Manly Fuckin' Santa's usual jolly
expression began to harden as he stared up at his old friend and
listened. Bunny paused and stared back, letting his words sink in.
“I told them there would be plenty of attacks to keep you busy.
The War on Christmas is never ending. Let them tire you out. Let
your annual ride to distribute weapons all over the BrikVerse exhaust
you. Then, and only then, strike. Strike when you were weak, not
when you were strong. But they wouldn't listen. The very idea was
alien to them.”
Santa's growing rage seemed to radiate
warmth. The very ice around him began to melt and snowflakes died on
the air when they came near him. He was very still as he replied,
“That's because only a coward would consider such a strategy.”
Bunny nodded and said, “Whatever gets
the job done.” He raised his pistol and pointed just above his
former friend's cherry-like nose before adding, “Don't get up.”
“Like this? With a silencer?
Really?” Santa had already risen to one knee and the silencer
barrel grazed his skin.
“You lived a life full of sound and
fury, my friend. You don't get to leave it the same way.” The
Bunny readjusted his stance.
“Why?” Santa wanted to know, “we
were brothers.”
“This War never ends and I've got a
new perspective. Did you know...in some universes, the bunny is a
symbol of peace? I didn't. But I do now. Pacifass says goodbye.”
Bunny squeezed the trigger and shot his oldest, truest friend right
between the eyes. MFS fell back into the new powder with not much
more noise or fanfare than his killer made disappearing back into the
storm.
The night wore on and the
fire died. Eventually, even the once burning wreck itself was cold
to the touch. The storm had moved on hours ago, leaving in its wake
the half buried remnants of a rocket sleigh and the body of the Claus
as the only things for miles around to mar the pure, glittering
landscape of the arctic wilderness. Even the wind had hushed and the
colors in the sky seemed muted in the wake of the Claus' passing.
Suddenly, there was a
massive gasp that filled the deathly silence and the half mound of
snow that had formed on Santa's corpse shifted and heaved. The tough
old bastard sat straight up and tossed his grave blanket of snowfall
aside. He groaned a little, reached up and pried the slug embedded
in his skull from his head. It came out with a small pop and he
glared down at it resting in the palm of his massive hand before
curling it into his fist. “Sonuvabitch,” he remarked.
He stood and glared about
himself, taking stock. He had a dangerous twinkle in his eye and his
neck cracked when he twisted his head; anyone who saw him in that
moment would most certainly have something to dread. He said not
another word, but went straight to his work. He had some more
deliveries to make after all, he thought with a smirk.
Next: Valentine's Massacre
Next: Valentine's Massacre