Ordnance is Magic 2: Bombardment Boogaloo

by Perturabo

Christmas Special Part 2: Olympians roasting on an open fire

The sharp, luminescent numbers on her bedside table’s clock changed. Two A.M.

Applejack froze, staring at it, gripping her bed sheets tighter but otherwise remaining motionless. This was it, if she was correct; provided she hadn’t just dreamed the bizarre encounter from earlier, and the boy and his accomplices were at least roughly following the plot of a Christmas Carol, now was when the next ‘ghost’ should arrive. She kept her attention firmly on the clock, ears straining to pick up any change in her surroundings. Winona was still by the side of her bed, slumbering peacefully.

From the sounds of things, there was nothing. She swallowed, slowly sitting up and casting a look around her shadowy room. Still, nothing had changed. She examined it closely, green eyes staring intently, peering into every shadowed corner and across every mirrored surface. All revealed the same thing. Finally satisfied, chuckling quietly at herself for being gullible enough to even consider believing him, Applejack lay back in the bed. Rolling onto her side, the farmgirl closed her eyes with a smile, pulling the sheets up over her more and trying to empty her mind of the day’s stressful events.

“Hello!”

Her eyes snapped open, an uncharacteristic yelp leaving the girl as she sat up and scrambled backwards, pulling the bed-covers up instinctually to cover herself. She didn’t have to look far. The boy crouched on her bed, hugging his arms round his knees. He wasn’t unattractive, had she had time to consider it, and pleased excitement glimmered in eyes a similar green to her own. She couldn’t tell what he was wearing, aside from the gentlemanly hat perched atop his head. An…unusual fashion choice, to be sure. Somehow, Winona still hadn’t woken, scratching her ear in the depths of sleep as Applejack panted.

“What…how…who…how did ya…” She stammered, unable to finish any of her questions; the boy wasn’t threatening, but his sudden appearance had understandably unnerved her. In return, he just giggled.

“The Ghost of Christmas Present, at your service.” He announced, doffing his hat a fraction. “How do you do?” He didn’t wait for an answer, hopping gracefully off her bed and straightening, dusting himself down. Applejack continued to stare and grip the quilt, mind racing to process the information.

“Ghost…Christmas Present…” She repeated, looking away and nodding. “You’re…with that other gah…the one who was here earlier.” The boy chuckled, clasping his hands behind his back and nodding.

“Guilty as charged.” He confessed, with a knowing smile. “And I trust that Lorkhan has explained the purpose of our little exercise, then? Excellent! Come, come, we haven’t got all night you know!” Applejack wasn’t able to get a word in edgeways before he was by her bedside, a strong hand grasping her own and inducing an involuntary blush. Bemusement prevented her from offering any resistance to being dragged out of bed, the girl stumbling to keep up with the ‘ghost’ as he almost skipped down the landing.

“Wait!” She asked, voice an embarrassed hiss. “Wait, ah’m still in just mah vest an’ shorts!” Her guide didn’t really seem to hear, or care about her state of undress, continuing to merrily hum to himself. It sounded like ‘Rocking around the Christmas Tree’. “Can ah at least get mah coat?” Applejack insisted, and finally he relented. The boy let go of her hand as they reached the front door, turning around and swaying expectantly as Applejack slipped her thick winter jacket on. She did question why she was going along with this so easily, but although they were weird these boys still didn’t seem dangerous to her, and playing their game was probably the easiest way to get this over with.

“Are you ready?” The boy asked with a friendly smile, adjusting his hat a little. “Top show! Let us not tarry any longer, my d-“

“Wait,” she asked, cutting him off – which, despite the rudeness, he didn’t seem to mind – and raising a hand. “You…wanna go outside?” He looked momentarily unsure if he’d heard right, then round at the door, then back at Applejack. Finally, the boy chuckled indulgently.

“It is rather cold, I do realise.” He conceded, tone a little teasing. “But I give you my word, I will not detain you for long. Only until my message is imparted.” The farmgirl held his gaze a moment longer, trying to find any trace of dishonesty in his voice or face. There didn’t seem to be any. Finally, Applejack sighed, nodding and gesturing for him to lead on. That seemed to be enough for the boy, who quite casually grasped her wrist again and pulled her outside.

The night was dark, cool winds whipping around the two of them, though at least it wasn’t snowing. Applejack was tough enough to not let the temperature affect her too much, but she still pulled the coat a little tighter around herself; the boy gave a little shiver, shaking his wrists to get the blood flowing, but remained as cheerily unstoppable as ever. He set off quickly, crunching through the snow that had fallen already; he hopped up onto a fallen log, peering off into the distance somewhere. Applejack held back a moment, watching him. There was something about his appearance that seemed familiar, although it took a while for her to work out what it was.

“Wait a second…” She began, walking over to meet him arms folded. “You look like this gah mah friend’s been describin’ and goin’ all goo-goo eyed over…Mordecai.” She recalled, looking him over again. He turned his attention back to her, slightly taller than Applejack when he stood on the log, grinning and nodding.

“Once again, you have my number.” He chuckled. The sound was a little infectious, drawing one of the few smiles Applejack had given since the previous afternoon out.

“Yeah…Rarity would really lahk to meet’cha again.” She suggested, chuckling herself. Mordecai’s expression grew thoughtful, the boy shifting his hat once again before rubbing his chin.

“Rarity…the name does ring a bell…” He nodded. Before Applejack could respond, he was off again, heading deeper into the orchard of deadwood. She watched him go, grumbling in frustration, but the farmgirl followed all the same.

It was hard to tell how long they walked for, but if Applejack’s memory of the size of her land was correct it was at least ten minutes. The trees began to thin out, exposing her to more of the cold winds, Applejack mumbling as she wrapped the coat even tighter around herself. Mordecai continued to show only minor signs of discomfort. Eventually, they made it to the very edge of the Apple family property, the boy bounding up to stand on the fence much as he had done the log before. With only her slippers on her feet, Applejack couldn’t join him, but she remained just a step behind.

“There…do you see it?” He asked cheerily, pointing over into the distance. Applejack followed his finger, squinting as the cold assaulted her face. Even through the dark, it wasn’t hard to see the shining beacon of light in the centre of town proper.

“Yeah…the town Christmas Tree.” She nodded slowly. “Was…that all yah wanted tah show me?”

“I do so like to go and see the Christmas tree when it’s erected and lit up.” Mordecai smiled, once again ignoring her question. “It is rather a bit of a trek, but I find with most things in life that the more you put in, the more one tends to get out.” He let the point hang for a moment, though the girl didn’t take him up on it.

“Well…yeah.” She said, as if it were obvious. “It is pretty impressive, but…it’s fer the kids, right? Keeps the…y’know, the illusion alive fer ‘em an’ all.” He held her eyes a moment longer, the smile fading and an altogether harder-to-place expression crossing Mordecai’s face. Then, he reached down to his belt, searching for something.

“Ah ha!” He exclaimed happily, pulling out the small digital camera in the same moment. Switching it on, he started to flick through the pictures, beckoning her over. As much as Applejack tried to deny it, she was intrigued, enough to do as he bid.

“Do you just…carry that around?” The farmgirl asked, looking down at the device.

“I have a passing interest in photography.” Mordecai answered, continuing his search. “Ah, here we go!” He settled on one picture, turning the view-screen so she could see. Applejack squinted again; it was a couple of people about her age, having a snowball fight outside school. As she looked harder, she realised they were people she knew; Vinyl, Mystery Mint, and Cloud Kicker could all be made out clearly, grins on their faces.

“I passed them earlier today, and they were all quite consenting to be photographed.” Mordecai said, answering both her immediate questions before AJ could voice them. “But look, you see? They’re all rather getting into the Christmas Spirit something proper.”

“Yeah, well…so?” She retorted, returning her attention to him. “They all have probably got the time fer it.” His response, yet again, was a grimacing smile.

“I did get a chance to briefly converse with them, delightful ladies one and all.” He chuckled to himself. “Ms Mint here is having to care for her elderly grandfather over the holiday season whilst her own parents attend various work-related calls. And Ms Scratch’s work at the music store…well, it was Black Friday not too long ago, if you recall?” He asked. She did, and as she processed the information, Applejack felt her frown soften.

“…yah ain’t lyin’?” She asked, looking back at him. He gave a small nod.

“For once, madam, I am not.” Mordecai confirmed. He was quiet momentarily, before another idea struck him. He reached into his other pocket, pulling out a phone, quickly finding a number and setting it to loudspeaker.

“Yoo-hoo!” He called into it, unable to suppress a small giggle. “Tiny Tim!” The voice on the other side sounded less than pleased at the moniker.

“What…do you want…Mordecai?” The male voice crackled back, grunting with effort. It sounded to Applejack like he was trying to squeeze through somewhere whilst also answering his phone.

“Oh, just checking how things are going this fine Christmas morning.” The polite boy smirked back. “Has old Saint Nick brought you everything your little heart desires, Varvillon?” Varvillon – she remembered that name from earlier, Applejack’s frown deepening again.

“Not…the best…time.” The other boy managed to grunt back, the sound of him rubbing against the stonework in a confined space ringing out. Mordecai was unable to resist raising an eyebrow.

“I must say, you do sound awfully active for so early in the day.”

“Like I said, not…fuck…a good ti-“ He trailed off, the sound of him pawing against something in an attempt to hold his grip audible, before it seemed to give way. “Bollocks!” Mordecai winced at the sound of a body striking the floor hard, before hanging up. Applejack just looked at him with concern.

“Is he gonna be alright?” She asked. The boy looked doubtful.

“I see an empty chair at the table next Christmas…probably because he’s got himself incarcerated, but hey ho.” The boy shrugged. “But, you see my point?”

“Ah…ah think so.” The stubborn girl admitted. “Ah’m not the only one who’s got it hard at Christmas time…”

“But you are the only one who can keep the spirit of the season alive for yourself.” Mordecai finished. It was delivered with unusual sincerity and kindness, enough to make her flinch a little.

“You…aren’t like that other guy. The one who were here earlier.” Applejack observed. Mordecai’s response, as ever, was a gentlemanly chuckle.

“Lorkhan?” He queried. “Oh, my dear, believe me when I say I am well aware.” He glanced down at his watch, sighing. “Alas, I am afraid my time with you is spent. All that remains is for the final spectre, at three.”

“Right, right…the ‘Ghost of Christmas Future’, right?” AJ asked, allowing herself a small smile. “Ah am kinda curious tah see how y’all are gonna pull that one off.” Mordecai grinned, giggling a little again.

“We have something in mind.” He promised, an enigmatic gleam in his eye. “Well, I must depart, but I hope I have helped at least somewhat.” She wasn’t really sure what to say, so the farmgirl said nothing. That seemed to be enough for Mordecai; he gave her one last respectful bow, before turning and almost gliding away into the trees like the ghost he claimed to be. In a few moments, he was gone.

That was when Applejack decided she really needed to get out of the damn cold.

***

“Bollocks!”

Varvillon just about managed to get the word out before his grip in the cramped chimney stack faltered. His previously irritated expression morphed into one of panic, fingers desperately crawling on the dirty walls. It was no use. His foot came loose, and the rest of his body following it down. With a *thump*, the boy crashed down to the base of the chimney hard, taking a moment to roll around groaning quietly in pain and letting his rattled bones scream.

Amazingly, he hadn’t broken anything, which suggested to Varvillon that he’d somehow managed to squeeze further down the antique chimney-stack than he’d thought. Being thin did, it seemed, have its advantages. After a few moments, he managed to stagger out of the – thankfully, unlit – fireplace, coughing heavily and kicking a glass of sherry that had presumably been left out for Santa over. Looking at his phone, Varvillon groaned; the screen was smashed, crushed under him when he’d hit the ground, though Mordecai had already hung up. Bastard. He was covered almost head to toe in soot, but for a reason the boy couldn’t place, that felt oddly appropriate.

By the time he’d limped over to the front door, his expression was no more impressed. Vortun, practically filling the doorway, just about managed to hold off chuckling at his companion’s dirtied form. Barbus did the same, but seemed far more excited about the fact that they were inside. Nodding, and patting Varvillon graciously on the shoulder once more he stepped inside. Vortun lumbered in afterwards.

“Zis is Golg’s house?” The foreign student asked, looking around with the vaguest hint of approval beneath the sneer he always wore. Barbus didn’t say anything as he padded lightly through the hallway, but seemed to be thinking the same thing.

“Apparently.” Varvillon answered, arms still folded as he coughed a little again. “You…do realise this means he’s probably upstairs, asleep, right now?” The implications of that made all three of them pause, shivering in unison.

“We’ll be quick as a flash.” Barbus promised in a whisper. “We’ll just…I don’t know, do something to get revenge on all the times he’s tormented us, and then get out.” They headed into the living room, having to stop a moment just to look around – even Varvillon, who had not got a good look beforehand. It was surprisingly spacious, and surprisingly comfortable-looking. Much like Applejack’s, not that they could have known that, a Christmas Tree sat in the corner and twinkles softly. What caught Varvillon’s attention, however, were the rows of Christmas Cards stuck to the walls.

“Doesn’t something about this feel…odd?” He asked, frowning a little. “Like…Coach Golg doesn’t have this many friends, right?” Vortun nodded, but Barbus wasn’t listening. He’d spotted something by the base of the tree.

“Woah…you two, check it out!” They turned just in time to see him lift a present out of the pile. It wasn’t wrapped, but even if it had been they could have worked out what it was. “I didn’t know Coach Golg played the guitar.” Barbus mused, turning the instrument over in his hands as he examined it. “It’s…not bad, too.”

That was the last straw for Varvillon. He’d always liked to think of himself as the smart one of the group, and something about this was painfully wrong. He screwed his eyes closed, resting his fingertips on his temples as he tried to think it through.

“Why would Coach Golg get a guitar?” He asked, drawing both his companions’ attentions. “Why would he have all these cards? Why would he put presents under his own tree? Why would he set out sherry for Santa?”

“…Because he is…a man-child?” Vortun suggested slowly. Varvillon shook his head, still straining to think. Then, the boy’s eyes snapped open, two pricks of light in his soot-blackened face. Without explanation he hurried over to the side table for something he’d subconsciously seen before. Eventually, he found the unopened envelope, grasping it and reading the address hurriedly.

“This isn’t twenty-seven!” He hissed, turning back to the other two. “We’re on the wrong side of the road! Barbus, you idiot, this is the wrong house!” They both widened their eyes, Vortun glaring angrily at the self-elected leader of the group, whilst Barbus set the guitar back down and hurried over to read the envelope himself.

“Shit.” He cursed, pursing his lips and taking a deep breath. “Okay…okay, we’ll go back to the front door and leave. They’ll never know it was us.” He trailed off, cursing again. “Whose house even is it?”

His question was answered a moment later as the lights in the room were flicked on. All three of them froze, straightening up and widening their eyes even further. Then, as one, they turned towards the entrance to the room.

The boy standing there was about their age, clad in plain pyjamas. He was classically handsome, they supposed, sculpted face now set in a stony glare. Far more distracting was the spiked blue hair that he seemed to have gelled even before going to bed. But the most visually arresting thing about him was the baseball bat he clutched unwaveringly in his hands. After a few moments of wracking their collective brains, all three of the boys realised they knew who he was. This was Flash Sentry; a guitarist, and all-around pretty boy from Canterlot High. Normally, they’d have sneered, but currents events quite prevented anything except blank shock on their faces as they stood in a huddle.

“Okay.” Flash said, adjusting his grip on the bat’s handle slightly. He was outnumbered, but his voice still brimmed with confidence. “You losers have five seconds to explain what you’re doing in my house, before I beat the shit out of all of you.” Had they been thinking rationally, the trio might have recognised how slim the chances of Flash ‘beating the shit’ out of Vortun were. All their minds were still racing, however, desperately searching for the best solution as they stared at him.

“Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle all the way!
Oh what fun it is to ride
in a one-horse open sleigh, hey!
Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells,
Jingle all the way-”

Before they could finish their impromptu carol, Vortun’s boulder-like fist struck out. He crossed the distance with impressive ease, smacking their aggressor clean across a cheek before he could react. Flash crumpled wordlessly, both Varvillon and Barbus flinching back a step. After a moment of staring in shock, they relaxed.

“Is…he dead?” Varvillon asked, sounding more annoyed than concerned. Barbus prodded the motionless body with a foot.

“I decked his halls.” Vortun snorted. Barbus shook his head, retracting his foot.

“Nah, just unconscious…that was a good hit, though.” He complimented. “Doesn’t sound like anyone else heard, somehow…c’mon, get him up on the couch and let’s go.” Varvillon and Vortun did so, unceremoniously dropping Flash onto the pillows before stepping back.

“Y’know…I hate to sound like Lorkhan…” Varvillon began, folding his arms. “But that was actually pretty satisfying…” When he didn’t get a response, he turned, wincing. “Oh, c’mon Barb’…you’re not going to steal his Christmas present, right?”

“What?” The other boy asked, walking over to join them with guitar in hand. “It’s nice, even we can appreciate that…and it would help with our little ‘problem’ right now…” Reading the looks on their faces, he gave a disappointed sigh, but nodded. “Okay, fine…I guess that is a little low, even for us.”

Any further ruminations Barbus might have offered were lost as a small, painful groan came from the couch. They froze once more as Flash shuffled a little; the boy seemed still in a trance-like state, but he’d be out of it soon. Barbus glanced at Varvillon with a pleading look in his eyes. After a moment, the soot-covered boy nodded with a small smirk.

Flash’s eyes flickered open, vision swimming a moment, as he groaned and raised a hand to his throbbing head. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the three figures looming over him in the darkness. One of them had a guitar in his hand.

“Peace on fuckin’ Earth, Sonic.” Flash heard the lead figure say, before the butt of the instrument crashed into his forehead, and the world was black once more.

***

Sleep would not come to her after Mordecai’s departure, of that much Applejack was certain. It was partially because her mind was still trying to deal with the over-stimulation the night’s confusing events had caused, and partially because the girl knew they were not over. Strangely, Applejack found she didn’t resent the idea of that now; she was eager to get this over with, and as she’d admitted to Mordecai, more than a little curious to see how exactly they completed the trinity.

She’d at least dressed herself in her usual attire now, still trying to shake out the bone-deep cold being practically dragged outside had let set into her. Applejack clutched a mug of cocoa she’d whipped up tight, breathing the warm fumes in deeply, allowing herself little smiles as she sipped. As she did, the farmgirl kept thinking the latest boy’s words over. He had had a point, Applejack wasn’t so stubborn as to deny that. In all honesty, she couldn’t help but feel a little embarrassed for assuming that she was the only one who had it hard around Christmas time. With that said, the girl wasn’t entirely sure what Mordecai wanted her to do with the lesson he’d tried to impart. It was still the early hours of the morning after all; besides, once she’d at least apologised, Applejack knew the girls would let their argument go. Then they could put this whole business behind them, and everything would go back to normal.

It was halfway through that last thought, as Applejack’s eyes lazily scanned over the lounge windows, that she saw him. It took her a moment to establish that he was real. The half-opened curtains made his form a little hard to distinguish, a problem compounded by the still pitch-black sky. It wasn’t her imagination, though. Applejack stared a moment, taking a deep breath, slowly setting the mug down on a coffee table. Then, with more trepidation than she’d expected, she rose and slipped her thick coat back on before heading outside.

He stood quite a way away, deep in the heart of the orchard, near to where Mordecai had taken her. He was also the only one that didn’t come to her. Applejack crunched her way through the snow across to him, a little irritated by his inaction, and a little unnerved by it. She knew the story these boys were emulating, and perhaps some subconscious part of her had genuinely expected to come face-to-face with an ethereal spectre from beyond.

The figure before her was not an ethereal spectre. He was actually a little chubby, not strikingly so but more than the other two had been. Despite that, the girl still felt plenty uncomfortable. The boy’s face was hidden, concealed behind a black mask. A motorcycle helmet, she noted, to be exact. During the day Applejack might have just found it odd, but now there was definitely something at least a little eerie about it.

When it became clear that he wasn’t going to speak, and at that moment wasn’t even actually looking at her, Applejack cleared her throat. “The…ghost of Christmas Future, ah presume.” She’d meant to offer a light chuckle as she spoke, but all that came out was a small shiver that she decided to blame on the wind. The ‘ghost’ looked round at her lightning-quick, staggering a little, like a marionette being tugged on strings. She took a step back, raising a placating hand. “Alraght, alraght…what is it you wanna show me?”

Still, the ‘ghost’ didn’t speak, which at least meant he was in character. He gave another near-spasming stagger, an arm reaching out and catching himself on a tree. The figure was doubled-over a little, staring at the ground, the other arm waving as the first rested on Applejack’s shoulder. She frowned at it, looking into the dark of his visor.

“Me?” She asked, not following. “Yeah, ah know, y’all are interested in me fer some reason…what does this have tah do with mah future?” His response was to paw weakly at his own neck, and over his shoulder, Applejack could just about make out the distant lights of the town Christmas tree. “Ah’m…ah’m gonna die?” She asked, still perplexed, before an idea hit. “Or…mah Christmas Spirit’s gonna die?”

He grasped her arms, making Applejack flinch a little, shaking her slightly. Even as he did, however, epiphany continued to unfold in her brain. “You’re right…y’all are right!” She exclaimed, grinning and gripping his forearms back. “If ah keep this attitude, ah’m gonna be lahk ah am in this dog-gone field now; alone, on Christmas Day!” She let go and stepped back, slapping her forehead, ignoring him for the moment. “Lord, ah’ve been so stupid…the girls were right…” She sighed, looking down glumly. Moments later the usual determination crossed her face, clenched fist striking an upturned palm. “No. Ah can still save this…ah’ve got time.” She turned back to the boy, ignoring the way he gripped his throat again, grinning and pulling him into a tight embrace that both warmed her with the contact and made him thrash even more. “Thank yah…all of yah.” Then she let go, Applejack turning and sprinting back inside. She scribbled a quick note to her family explaining what she was doing, before running back out towards the town. She wasn’t entirely sure what her plan was, nor did she particularly care about the time. All she knew was she was going to make her wrongs right.

Zuko, meanwhile, did not follow. He didn’t even move far from where he’d been standing. He still staggered, back and forth, arms moving through the air almost like he was in a daze. Then, he paused. His legs quivered. Finally, the boy toppled, landing face-first in the snow.

“…Zuko?” Lorkhan’s head poked out from one side of the tree he’d been hiding behind, Mordecai’s from the other. “Zuko.” He repeated, voice still a hiss. The boy didn’t move. Frowning a little, Lorkhan glanced at Mordecai. The polite boy just shrugged. He was also the first one to leave the cover, heading over to their companion and kneeling beside him.

“Ah, I believe I’ve found the problem!” Mordecai’s voice was as cheerful as ever as he stood back up, facing an expectant Lorkhan. “The icy temperature seems to have…frozen the seal between his helmet and his neck, making it damn hard for air to get in. I…do believe he’s unconscious.”

“Unconscious?” Lorkhan asked to clarify, looking down at the body. “If we leave him out here, he’ll freeze to death.” Mordecai nodded, his expression a grim one.

“So,” Lorkhan began, as they turned and began to walk away through the field. “What did you ask for this year?”

But he didn’t die, though. It was a joke.

Slowly but surely, air began to reach him once more, his unconscious body still sucking air into his lungs. Zuko sat up, coughing a little, shuddering as he was jolted to wakefulness. The ground was cold beneath him, enough to actually make him shiver, and it took him a moment to remember where he was. When he did, eh also remembered that Lorkhan and Mordecai were meant to be there with him, the two promising they wouldn’t leave. He called their names.

They’d left. Of course they had.

Cursing under his breath, Zuko staggered to his feet once more, resting his hands on his thighs and taking a moment to recover. When he finally had, he stood up, hugging himself a little in an effort to keep warm. The girl’s house wasn’t far from here, windows glowing with an inviting light. For a moment he actually considered it. Common sense reasserted itself a moment afterwards, the boy sighing and beginning to hike towards the town as Applejack and presumably his companions had.

The bus service wouldn’t be running for another hour or two, if they did at all on Christmas Day, so there was little to do except wait. It was still a bit of a stretch for him to accept that it was Christmas – perhaps that was merely because the sun still wasn’t up, however. With most of the town empty and uninviting, the helmeted boy found himself wandering in what felt like endless circles. As he did, his irritation simply rose and rose – mainly at Lorkhan, for dragging him into this to start with, and then ditching him. Stupid Lorkhan. Stupid Christmas; after that experience, Zuko would be quite happy to never celebrate the blasted holiday again.

Eventually, against all odds, he managed to find a store that was open. His stomach was growling by that point, but he had little money on him, just enough to buy a single sausage roll. It was better than nothing, he supposed. He headed back onto the streets quickly with his prize in hand, glancing at the nearest bench and sitting without further thought, trying to ignore the cold now radiating through the lower half of his body.

“Hey.”

He froze as the feminine voice piped up, before turning slowly to his right. A girl was sat there, dressed in thick winter clothing, teal eyes focused on him. He couldn’t believe he’d missed her before. “I didn’t mean to startle you…” She said apologetically. “I just….you surprised me…I didn’t expect to see anyone else out this early.”

“…it’s alright.” He said at last, after searching for the right words. As he stared at her, recognition hit suddenly; though her fiery hair was hidden beneath a woolly hat, he recognised her as Sunset Shitlord…no, Shimmer, definitely Shimmer. She was Lorkhan’s ‘Daemon teenager’, and also the girl Zuko had – he recalled, embarrassment flooding him – admitted was ‘kinda cute’. “What are you doing out here?” He went on, to his own surprise. Sunset looked away, rubbing an arm grimly.

“The people at the Hostel I live in were getting a bit…rowdy.” She explained. “I just needed to get out of there for a while…what about you?”

“I was ordered to break into someone’s house and then left to freeze to death.” He answered bluntly. Awkward silence persisted a moment, before she chuckled.

“Well…you win.” Sunset laughed. Once again, Zuko surprised himself by returning the snigger. The girl’s chuckles were cut off by the sound of her stomach rumbling; she winced, cheeks turning red, a hand gripping her belly. “Sorry…”

“No problem.” Zuko assured her, glancing around them. He took in the sights: the tinsel covering the lamp-posts, the snow on the ground, the images of reindeer and jolly fat men in red suits hung in vacant store windows. Then, he looked down at the sausage roll in his hand. With a sigh, and without really understanding why he was doing what he was doing, Zuko held out the pastry towards her.

Sunset flinched as he did, equally caught off-guard. She looked down at it, then back up at him. Her mouth opened, but Zuko cut her off. “Just take it.” He mumbled, trying to ignore the annoying sensation of warmth that now radiated off his cheeks round the helmet. “Before I realise what the hell I’m doing.” She nodded, quickly taking the foodstuff.

“I…thank you.” She said, giving a small but warm smile. “…What’s your name?”

“Doesn’t matter.” He mumbled again, folding his arms. “This isn’t canon anyway, you won’t remember it.” Feeling her blank stare on the side of his head, the boy sighed. “Zuko…it’s Zuko.”

“Zuko…” Sunset nodded, looking back at the ‘gift’. “…Merry Christmas, Zuko.”

He didn’t know what to say to that. So Zuko said nothing, continuing just to look at his feet and hug himself tight against the cold as he heard Sunset begin to eat. Around them, the snow had started to fall again, soft particles of white drifting down from out of the sky. As it came to rest on and all around the two of them, it took Zuko a moment to realise his face ached somewhat.

It took him a moment longer to realise it was because of the small smile crossing it.

Author's Note:

You know, now that I think about it, Flash actually does look a bit like Sonic the Hedgehog.

Merry Christmas and Happy New Year from the IV Legion. Lorkhan's asking for the new Blood Angel codex, Mordecai for a bottle of red, and Barbus wants thecomplete Daring Do collection. As for me, all I want from Father Christmas is good food, a roof over my head, and the complete and utter subjugation of the Imperium of Man. See you in 015.M3 for more fun*!

*The Iron Warriors do not guarantee fun. Fun is subject to early termination at Perturabo's discretion. Fun is to be taken in context of more Decimation.

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[Cadmium]

They broke into flashes house knocked him out and shattered his new guitar over his head. Merry Christmas indeed!
also if Perturabo knew how his own students think of christmas he would force them to get into the spirit of the holiday and after new year throw a fit followed by enough decimations to last an entire year