his perfect kingdom of killing, suffering & pain
demands devotion, atrocities done in his name
There was a moment – fleeting, childish – in which Santa fascinated him. He was only human (horse?) despite his current situation in life and the powers he’d been granted. The fat, jolly man represented all the carefree, easy family moments he’d ever enjoyed. Whatever Arka had become, there had been a time when Christmas had meant everything.
But that was then.
The Elves – clever, Arka would admit – used his momentary lapse in thought quite effectively. Lifted from the ground, Arka went flying. The wind whistled in his ears, the snow seeming to glitter brilliantly underneath him in the blur of his speed. It was actually quite beautiful, at least for as long as it lasted. His surprise and wonder were quickly lost as he slammed not only in to the wall of the workshop, but through it, letting out a cry of pain as he came to abrupt halt against another wall within the building. He slid down to the floor with an unceremonious ‘thump’, letting out a groan as he tried to shake off the dizziness. He’d hit his head. He couldn’t think.
From somewhere in the haze he registered a snarl, a demon’s arrival close by. Blinking furiously to clear the confusion, he realized an Elf was crawled through the human-sized hole in the wall to finish the job she had started. The bells on her skirt rang merrily even as she stalked towards Arka with a weary, resigned expression and he couldn’t help it. He started to laugh. There was something hilarious in the juxtaposition of the jolly chorus of bells and the murder the Elf was prepared to commit and Arka could not stop – he laughed, he laughed, he laughed and the Elf stopped in her tracks. She did not appear frightened, but rather confused and maybe a little disturbed by the Grinch’s chosen one.
“I don’t want to do this,” she said, a ball of light growing in her fist as she prepared to stop him if it was required of her. “You can stop. You can change your mind and help us.”
Arka stopped laughing.
“You’re right. I could. But why should I?” he asked, starting to lift himself off the ground to attack just as the Elf realized there was no help for him and raised her arm to release her magic. He built his own, prepared to release, prepared to destroy her despite his blood dripping down in to his eyes when…
The same demon that must have pulled him from his fog with a growl appeared, leaping between Arka and the Elf to absorb the beam of light that shot from her. A piercing howl screeched from the creature as it died, its oily tar body losing form and splashing back on Arka.
“It’s not yet time for you to die…” the Grinch whispered in his head, acknowledging the sacrifice was calculated.
Arka let loose with a wave of dark to match the light with which the Elf had tried to finish him, watching her fly backwards and roll to a horrid, final stop in a pile of half-wrapped presents. (Like a little ragdoll, limbs askew. You could do this to all of them Arka. Finish them now and you’ll never have to spend another Christmas pretending to care about the people around you, pretending that you give even half a shit about getting the perfect tree, pretending you don’t want to tear that string of lights off your neighbor’s houses and strangle them with it. Finish this.)
Covered in muck, barefoot and bare-chested, he stalked through the workshop. Fire had broken out and through its dancing he caught glimpses of other humans. All were deeply entrenched in the same war though they seemed far more cognizant of their purpose than those Arka had encountered in the club in Boston. Those people seemed overtaken with some unknown urge to defend the holiday, while every human in this workshop knew exactly why they fought. To Arka they were simply unnecessary obstacles.
Santa and the Grinch fought high above his head on a second floor. Arka caught a glimpse of another human and a…tortoise…sprinting up the only intact staircase towards the two dueling superpowers. He couldn’t risk taking the same route and being caught in a firefight when his true target was Santa. Nothing else mattered. If he could take out the big guy, the little ones would be child’s play, especially with the Grinch undistracted.
It was at that moment he heard another of the people milling through the workshop – a woman, a voice that brooked no argument coming from her as she shouted at the Grinch. Perhaps a creature less consumed by greed, less taken with their own madness, might have paused in the face of her argument. But Arka was mad and cruel and sick. He turned his head to look at her over his shoulder as he moved underneath the balcony on which Santa and the Grinch fought. An Elf flew past his head, taking a swipe at him but ultimately attempting to destroy another demon off to the side. He dodged deftly despite the oceanic roar in his head – oh, he’d hit it so very hard – and called back to the woman.
“That’s the point. A land full of nothing – no Santa, no elves, no presents. We’ll all forget you and your Santa ever existed. And we’ll build our own magic here!”
He sounded unhinged. He felt unhinged. His head was splitting down the middle, unfolding in some lotus-petal bloom, lava spilling out of its edges and burning him as he unraveled. Elves and Demons created a symphony of pain and rage as they fought, a backdrop that made his blood boil, his limbs itch.
With a scream he unleashed another blast of energy, presents tossed in to the air in the wake of his release though its true purpose was realized with spectacular efficiency: part of the floor above him exploded, shards of wood flying as shrapnel in all directions. He watched an Elf caught up in the explosion land, pinned to the floor by a huge piece of timber. Gathering another rage-fueled blast, he blew another hole in the floor above him, dust and wood raining down on him. What he wanted was simple: either Santa would lose his footing and fall down to the floor to his end, or Arka would force him to stand toe-to-toe with the Grinch on an increasingly precarious playing field. It was a tactic that put both Christmas superpowers at risk, but the Grinch was clever. Arka just wanted to force Santa’s hand.
ARKA
the chamber's scumbag cadet
