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Frozen in Carbonite

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GATE: and so the Iron Pact Fought

A Christmas Miracle Returns
Oh boy, I found out what has been giving me my damned writer's block: a little side story idea that explores a little more of Hauptmann Aaron. In this case, something stolen and shattered out of spite returns whole. I lost it because Chrome was being a finicky bitch, but it has returned after a fashion. It also introduces the sort of beings that Hauptmann Aaron works with, beings with godly powers.

So, without further ado, this little side story of a man having something returned to him.


Fort Portal, Barracks #4 Common Room; December 24th, 2017 - 23:45

I sat in front of the Tannenbaum, wallowing in my sorrow. Almost five years ago, I was fighting the remnants of the Zombie Battalion* -an occultist unit of the 1st French Commune- when they ripped one of the first Psi Memories I ever extracted, one that I kept close for almost a decade. A psi memory that my friends and I cherished for years. I can barely remember the feelings of that one event, a literal miracle on the battlefield. It's... disheartening. Even with the Celestial Council searching high and low for it, they haven't found all the pieces for it yet.

Still, it made ensuring the Zombie Battalion's complete end all bittersweet. At least no one else had to go through the hell that I went through when they were still alive.

"Well, Slick, it's been a crazy six months, hasn't it?" Tony rhetorically asked, "Given half the shit we've been through already, I'm half expecting something to go horribly wrong."

"It would be our luck, given that the Dead Six is all in one area of operations," I chuckled, "Still, things have been quiet, all considering. Those idiots are keeping their distance, the situation on the other Earth is slowly stabilizing, and things have slowed to a crawl as the winter months continue." One common thread across history is that winter isn't conducive to military operations, no matter where you fight. Mother nature always has a say, and winter shuts down pretty much everything. "Still, this war is problematic, given the resistance so far. We're dealing with genuine Romans instead of more normal folk, so the normal war weariness rules don't apply." Rome was... vastly different when it came to the rules of war weariness. They weren't immune; it's just that they had a psychological, cultural, political, and geopolitical profile that made them different. Especially since they could pull off a 'two-fifths of our male population died in one battle, see you next year' semi-regularly.

"True that, Slick," Tony commented, "Hopefully, Princess Pina can get some sense into them, though with the forces involved, we might have to trim the local celestials." I frowned; that is always some nasty business in the first place, but that's why the Dead Six was created, to deal with 'Celestials gone off the reservation'. Each of us with abilities that can at least negate any shenanigans they would throw at us.

"Yeah, I thought as much," I commented, "it isn't the best job in the world, but someone has to do it." I remembered what the Council told me about 'The Rules', knowing that they apply to everyone, even gods. Given that the Salderian pantheon likely broke at least a dozen minor rules (especially ones about delaying scientific development), we're looking at some prison cells in Hades getting new occupants at the minimum. "Though, if they're as far off the reservation as we fear, it'll get messy."

"Something that everyone is afraid of," Tony frowned, "Hopefully, it won't get that messy. We don't want the locals and Alt-Worlder's first introduction to our unit to be another Amarillo Incident." We both shuddered, as that incident was bad enough, to begin with. To have it repeated? Yeah, that was asking for trouble and plenty of questions. Questions that would have answers that would cause plenty of problems. "So, how deep have the locals gone with investigating you?"

That was a question that I dreaded. "All the black ink is slowing them down, but they're penetrating further than expected," I answered, "the Alternate-Earth is having somewhat better but similar luck." I sighed at the prospect of them finding out what I was. Though, if our assets on that other Earth are any indication, they'll be neck-deep in the paranormal shit soon enough, especially since Doctor Horror's toys were found in that version of Russia. "If they find out about the secret wars, though, it'll get messy."

"Yeah," Tony understood, "When you've got wars that were essentially men with old grievances against one man, that'll turn quite a few heads no matter what dimension you're from." That was when we both heard the chimes of Christmas bells...

... and that meant only one thing.

"Ah, two of my favorite mortals!" Saint Nicholas cheered, "It has been years since I've seen you." The bottomless knapsack rumbled from the numerous gifts he was packing. "I've got special gifts for you and the rest of the Dead Six from the Council and me. Especially for you, Aaron. You wouldn't believe how much trouble the Misses and I had to endure to find every piece."

"You didn't," Tony gawked, not believing what he was hearing.

"We did," Nicholas answered, pulling out a mud-stained piano, "and you deserve something for the monumental amount of work you put in, Aaron. Every single piece, where it should be." I simply sat there, looking at the physical representation of one segment of the Christmas Truce. A memory that I held dear to my heart, for it was a literal Christmas Miracle. "If you would do the honors..."

I quickly walked up to the piano and inspected it. It felt whole, a feeling that couldn't be described by the words of mortals or most of the vast dictionaries of gods without shortchanging it. I quickly got a stool and set it in front of the piano, preparing myself to play it. Then Tony put a hand on my shoulder.

"So, Slick, let's show the world you're whole again," Tony smiled.

So I began playing...

* Think of them as the equivalent of the Werewolf units that the Nazis planned to deploy to make the Allies' occupation as hellish as possible and Hellsing's Letzte Batallion. While the 1st French Junta internal security and what would become Wolfenstein would wipe most of them out, a few would survive into the 2000s... before getting annihilated in body and soul for their crimes. You heard me, body and soul. I.e., no going to reincarnation, no going to the afterlife, just gone. To get that punishment, though, requires you to break some top-tier rules. Like 'attempting to revive the Mad God' or 'cause an apocalypse' tier.
 
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