Valor and Violence

He tried to move his legs again, and when they still didn’t respond, he threw himself to the floor, scrabbling hand over hand for the doorway, desperate sobs wracking his chest as his vision swam with tears. He could hear the demon following him, taking its time and enjoying the spectacle.

There was no way he was going to escape.

He stopped, the tears flowing freely and silently as he rolled himself over to face the demon. The bastard stood over him, smiling, while the Wrath demon kept tearing into Zakowski’s corpse deeper in the CP. Kyle’s hands shook and his bottom lip trembled as he slowly reached a hand to the grenade pouch on his chest. He was trying to be subtle, so as not to alert the demon, but its eyes flicked to the bomb in his hand and its grin widened. It knew what it was, and it didn’t care.

But the grenade wasn’t for the demon. Not really. Kyle put a finger through the pin, curling it tightly around the thin ring of metal, and pulled it clear. He dropped it in the snow beside him, then clasped the grenade in both hands, held tight against his chest. He didn’t know if it would have enough punch to penetrate the armour, but he really hoped it did. With a deep breath, he prised open his fingers, letting the bail fly off.

Three to five seconds and it would all be over.

The Glutton laughed, then darted forward, snatching the grenade from Kyle and tossing it out the door. It exploded harmlessly outside, the percussive impact and a couple of bits of shrapnel washing over the soldier’s armour.

“No…”

The Glutton had waited until the last safe moment, letting Kyle think he was about to be spared a horrible death, then saved him. Saved him so it could savour him itself. It removed Kyle’s helmet, then reached towards his face, the long, clawed fingers filling his vision as he screamed and thrashed.

And then the demon stopped, rapidly withdrawing its hand and backing away. It was hissing at something behind Kyle. He craned his neck, looking back at the doorway, and found another giant figure.

Even cast in silhouette, Kyle could tell it wasn’t human. It stood about ten feet tall, so broad as to fill the double doorway almost completely. Its torso looked humanoid, but its legs looked like they belonged to a giant goat, same with the twin horns spiralling out the sides of its head. It was another demon, though not of any class Kyle recognised. Despite his terror at yet another giant monster showing up, he felt a mixture of other emotions as well. Namely, hope that it might kill him relatively quickly and painlessly, and a sort of bemused curiosity, when he realised it was wearing a two sizes too small Santa hat and carrying a sack over its broad shoulders. It stomped into the CP; the Glutton retreating before it. Even the Wrath demon stopped what it was doing, dropping the corpse and standing beside the Glutton.

The newcomer clomped over to Kyle, crouching over him, its face peering down at the stricken soldier. Its skin was a dark, ashy grey, the face that of an ugly, weathered old man with a hook nose and pale blue eyes. A wispy white beard hung from his face, the same muted shade as the long strands of hair sparsely populating its head. It grunted and reached down, wrapping a giant hand around Kyle’s chest plate.

The soldier struggled, beating feebly at the giant hand as the monster hauled him in the air, then walked back to the door, propping him against the wall beside the opening. He looked Kyle in the eyes and smiled. It was a terrible thing, too wide, like the monster was imitating something he had only ever seen others do, the lips pulling tightly back to expose a row of razor-sharp shark’s teeth.

It pulled the sack from its shoulder and put a clawed hand inside, producing a plush teddy bear. It dropped it in Kyle’s lap, gave him an affectionate pat on the head, then stood up and turned to face the demons. The sack came out again, but this time, the monster produced a multi-chained flail. The weights at the end chimed faintly, and in the light seeping through the doorway, Kyle realised they were miniature bells.

“Slay-bells,” a voice said beside Kyle. He would have jumped if he had full control of his body.

It seemed his bladder was working, though. That was progress.

He looked to his side, ignoring the growing warm wet patch in his pants, to find a diminutive figure, only three feet tall, standing there. The little man was clad head to toe in a festive green outfit, though it was tattered and covered in what looked to be oil stains. He took a drag of a cigarette and held something out to Kyle. The soldier looked down and saw it was a tiny hip flask.

“What the hell is going on?” Kyle asked, wondering if his brain had snapped completely from the terror of impending consumption.

“Is that a no to the whiskey?” the figure replied, while further in, the monster roared and charged.

“It’s a ‘what the hell is going on?’, is what it is!” Kyle shouted.

“A’aight, suit yourself. The name’s Tom, by the way. Tinsel Tom, Christmas Elf, Engineer Corps. Currently… let’s call it freelancing, for the big guy over there.”

“Nice to meet you? I guess? Can you please tell me whether or not you’re going to kill me?”

The elf chuckled and took a swig, then pocketed the flask. “That depends. Have you been a naughty boy?”

He glanced at Kyle’s frozen expression and burst into laughter. “I’m screwin’ with ya, kid. You might have to worry about Krampy over there,” he said, gesturing to the monster as it pulped the Wrath demon’s head with the flail, then tackled the Glutton to the ground and gored it with its horns. “Though he maintains he’s turned over a new leaf. Even kidnapped me to help rehabilitate his image with you humans.”

“Krampy?”

“Mm hmm,” Tom said, nodding. “The Krampus. Or a Krampus, I’m not sure, actually. But this one got sick of being the bad guy, so he’s trying to reinvent himself as a new Santa, now that the old one has fallen into a coma.”

Kyle’s head was spinning. “There is a lot to unpack there.”

“Yeah, I bet. Imagine what it’s like for me! One minute I’m making toy trains, so much simpler when we could use coal, by the way, now it’s all solar power this and unicorn shit that. Then this guy kicks open the door, sweeps in and stuffs me in a sack, and when next I’m taken out, I’m in a dingy cave, it’s cold as the devil’s testicles, and he’s telling me I need to make Rolexes and shit with whatever’s lying around. How are you finding it, by the way? Keeping the time alright? Anyway, it was bad enough when Santa was still in charge, hated unions the old prick, but then he went nappy nap and all us elves had an existential crisis when we realised we’ve got no idea what to do with our lives! Some went mad. Others made power grabs, lots of blood spilt there, I tell ya. As for me? I just locked myself in my workshop and kept making shit in the hopes Santa would wake up. Really, I don’t know if I’m helping Krampy, or if he’s helping me? Though it is hard to move past the kidnapping- “

“Tom!”

“What?”

“Please, just… quiet, ok? Let me process all this.”

“Oh, right, yeah sure. Sorry, it’s just been a while since I’ve spoken to someone. Krampy has a heart of gold… I think… but he’s not much of a conversationalist. When you find something he likes, though? Boy, can he talk! Take kittens, for example- “

“Tom!”

“Right, shutting up now.”

While the elf had blathered, Krampus had finished the demons. He turned back to the pair by the door and walked towards them, waving his flail like the mall Santas do their bells.

“Ho… Ho… Ho… Merry- “ he said before the ceiling of the bunker exploded inwards. Kyle reflexively covered his face, and when he looked again, Krampus was in the grip of an even bigger demon. It was a Glutton Baron, standing twelve feet tall with a disproportionately small body but impossibly long limbs and a giant head. It looked spidery as it screamed in the smaller monster’s face and hurled it through the doorway.

“Oh, shit! Time to go. On your feet, up!” Tom said, grabbing Kyle by the arm and trying to pull him upright. This time, Kyle made it upright, and he staggered out of the CP on unsteady legs. The Glutton screamed and barrelled out after him, knocking him flying with a casual backhand.

It wasn’t interested in him. No, it was after the Krampus. It charged, kicking up a flurry of snow as it bore down on the monster. The Krampus struggled to his feet in time to catch the charge, his feet sliding back in the snow a few feet before grinding to a halt. With a roar, he lifted the Glutton and pile drove it into the snow. He laughed, a grating, guttural sound, as he gloated over the fallen demon. His celebration was cut short when the Baron twisted where it lay, lashing out with a leg that caught the Krampus in the chest, launching him through the air. He hit the ground and rolled to his feet in a surprisingly agile display for such a large creature. As he came up, the strap holding the Santa hat to his head gave up the ghost, and the tattered red garment fell to the ground. Krampus stared down at the hat, eyes wide with shock and horror, before it turned back to the Glutton and roared.

“Krampy!” Tom shouted as scuttled over to check on Kyle. “Use the missile!”

The monster looked at his elf companion, rage giving way to confusion.

“Oh, for the love of… we talked about this! The Mistle-TOW Missile! It’s in your sack!”

Recognition flashed across the monster’s face, and it smiled as it reached into the bag, pulling out a long, olive drab tube. A curling vine with small white and red berries was wrapped around it.

Kyle shot an incredulous look at Tom.

“Ok, I know it’s not the cleverest pun, but I work with what I have. In fact, no! Screw you! I’m quite proud of Slay-bells and the Mistle-TOW. I doubt you could come up with anything better.”

“You’re insane,” Kyle said.

“No, I just take my work seriously and I remember where I came from. I might make demon killing weapons for an evil monster from pagan myth, but there’s no reason I can’t inject a bit of festive spirit into the whole thing. And- ah, for fucks’ sake,” Tom groaned, looking back to the battle.

Kyle followed his gaze and found Krampus charging the Baron, the tube raised above his head like a club. He brought it down on the demon’s skull with enough force that the tube bent, and the Glutton’s head smashed into the dirt. Krampus kept smashing away until the launcher was so warped as to be useless, then he stepped back, huffing slightly from the exertion. He turned around, giving Tom and Kyle a thumbs up with another terrible smile, when the Baron reared up behind him.

“Krampy! Behind you!” Tom shouted. He was too late. The Baron grabbed Krampus by the neck and hoisted him into the air, bringing its free hand back as the festive monster struggled in its grip. With a terrible finality, it stabbed into Krampus’ back, the monster screaming in pain.

The Baron held it there for a moment, letting the paralytic venom pump into Krampus’ system before casting him aside. It wobbled a moment, rocked from the act of throwing the monster, and Kyle realised the Krampus had actually wounded it.

Which meant it would be hungry.

Its eyes swept the snow blasted camp until it found Kyle and Tom huddled together on the frozen ground. It snarled and limped towards them, swaying from foot to foot as it sought a meal.

“Well, Tom. It was nice meeting you. I’m not so scared of death now. I think the sheer absurdity of the last few minutes has lessened the blow. Or I’m in shock. Either or. Still, you should get out of here. No sense us both dying.”

Tom looked into Kyle’s face, searching his eyes for something, though what exactly, Kyle didn’t know. After a long second, the elf sighed and shook his head.

“You really are a good boy, Kyle Eckhart.” He straightened and defiantly positioned himself between the man and the demon bearing down on them. “I’ll not let you die this Christmas Eve!”

Tom reached into his pocket and pulled out a small square of canvas. He fiddled with it, unfolding it to reveal a tiny sack. “I figured out how Krampy’s worked pretty soon after he kidnapped me and reverse engineered one of my own. The big guy isn’t the only one with toys to play with!” he shouted, plunging a hand inside and producing a full-sized flamethrower.

The words ‘Yule Log Firestarter D-LUX’ were stencilled across the side.

“Merry Christmas, motherfucker!” he screamed in his little elf voice, thumbing off the safety and blasting the Baron in the face with a stream of white-hot fire. The flames stuck to the demon like napalm and it recoiled, swinging its arms wildly as it tried to bat away the burning substance.

The elf cackled like a madman, pausing only long enough to take drags of his smoke as he followed the burning demon, keeping the stream going while the wind picked up around them, a snowstorm blowing in to coincide with the storm of Elffire.

Kyle cheered. The little guy was actually doing it, driving back a Baron class demon by himself! Ordinarily, a weapon like a flamethrower would be ineffective against this class, but it must have gotten caught by the holy water bombardment earlier, leaving its skin vulnerable. Kyle climbed to his feet, following with shaky steps to keep the elf in view through the growing snowstorm, when disaster struck.

The flamethrower stopped spitting flame.

Tom looked down at the contraption in his hands and swore. “I knew I should have invested in a bigger fuel tank.” He dropped it and reached into the sack again, rummaging around for God only knew what, but he wasn’t paying attention to the Baron. Without the constant stream of fire, the demon recovered quickly, swiping away the globs stuck to its face and glaring at the tiny figure before it.

“Look out!” Kyle shouted, trying to run forward. His legs gave out beneath him, the lingering venom still playing havoc with his body. Tom looked back at the noise, seeing Kyle clawing through the snow toward him, then turned to the Baron.

“Oh.” Was all he said before the demon swung a clawed arm, catching the elf and hurling him through the air like baseball from a pro pitcher. He hit the ground and slid through the snow, coming to a stop just a few meters from Kyle. He crawled over, his arms back to full function at least, until he had reached his new friend.

The elf was lying face down in the snow, not moving. Kyle rolled him over, mumbling a half crazed prayer for the little guy to still be alive. Tom’s eyes were glassy, staring into the sky, his green jacket marred by a large red stain where the demon’s claw had cut him.

“Damnit, Tom. Why didn’t you just run?” Kyle asked, burying his face in the elf’s jacket. He started when he heard something, almost like a whisper, just beside his ear. He shot back upright, looking down at the elf’s blank face.

“Did you just?…”

The eyes slid across to look at Kyle. “Not… a… coward…” Tom repeated.

Kyle laughed. The elf was alive! He must just have been feeling the effects of the paralytic. But… a weaker class of Glutton had pricked Kyle, and he had been completely paralysed for far longer. How was such a little guy able to talk and move his eyes immediately after a blow from a Baron?

Kyle’s eyes widened as he realised. Tom was an elf! If he was a magical creature, it might explain his resistance to the toxin’s effects! And if Tom could move this much, then…

His train of thought was interrupted by the Baron looming out of the snow. Its skin was charred, still sizzling in places, great reams of skin sloughing off its face and chest. It stood over Kyle and Tom, arms outstretched to its sides as it screamed its fury to the sky.

And another roar answered it, at first barely audible over the howling wind, but growing rapidly louder until Krampus burst out of the storm, tackling the Baron to the ground. He pummeled the demon with hammer fists as he bellowed in rage, black blood spraying the air as the demon’s head cracked. Its arms flopped uselessly beside it, as Krampus climbed to his feet, flipping the demon over and stabbing his clawed hands into the Baron’s back in open mockery of the injury the demon had given earlier.

Krampus lifted the whimpering Glutton over his head, panting from effort, and then stopped. It looked down at Kyle, seeing him draped protectively over Tom’s prone form.

“Ho, ho, ho,” Krampus said, the muscles in his forearms rippling as he tightened his grip on the demon’s spine. “Merry… Christmas!”

He roared as he pulled, tearing the Baron in half, blood and giblets raining to the ground alongside the snow. Groaning, he dropped the two halves to the ground and reached towards Kyle. The man tensed, still fearing the worst, and Krampus hesitated, looking hurt and sad. He gave a small smile, one that felt somehow more authentic, and reached out again, gently pushing Kyle away from Tom. Perplexed, but feeling like the monster wasn’t a threat, Kyle watched as the creature picked the elf up, cradling him in his arms and tenderly stroking the little guy’s face.

“Jesus,” Kyle breathed as he took in the improbable sight. The ragged and bloody monster cradling the chain smoking, flamethrower toting Christmas elf in the burnt-out ruins of a military encampment. “Hallmark specials are gonna be a hell of a lot different if you’re the new Santa.”

Krampus stiffened, his eyes slowly tracking from Tom back to Kyle. He leaned down until his face was just a few inches away from Kyle. In halting English, with a voice like thunder, he said;

“Santa… is… little… bitch.” He straightened, puffing out his chest as he glared at Kyle. “I. Am. Krampus!”