Merry Christmas Fishyicon! I love you my short buddy!

Characters: Erol and Baron Praxis

POV: Erol

Rated: 10+ Kinda dark.

Plot: The Baron calls for the Commander on Christmas Eve as he contemplates his life.

Grinning sardonically I swing my feet to rest on my desk. It's nearly eleven o'clock as my boots clank against the hard metal desk and for some reason my grin widens. Outside my office snow is softly falling. High up in the atmosphere it is pure, a flaky white substance. Then it reaches the contaminated air of Haven City and either melts instantly from zoomer exhaust or is trampled underfoot and turned to a wet, slushy substance from countless citizens and Krimzon Guards.

I hate snow, and the cold it brings. I also hate the holidays.

Yet it is Christmas time again, so I'm unsure why I can't stop smiling.

As a child growing up in the slums of a city on the brink of war, Christmas was really no different than any other day of the year, unless my parents managed to scrape up enough money for a small present or two for myself and my younger siblings. Lex remembers our parents and the limited holidays we spent with them; he confessed to me once how much he missed them. My brother is the gentlest of the three of us, he reminds me of father. But I do not believe our younger sister is lucky enough to have remembered him or our mother.

I think of my siblings and how they were probably in the Mess Hall for the feast with the rest of the underage recruits. I find the entire ordeal ridiculous; we're in the middle of the war, and there is no time for celebrating! I imagine Shae and Lex are enjoying themselves regardless, and I know if I were to search for them it would take only a matter of seconds. Picking out Shae's hair in a crowd of recruits dressed in grey would be too easy. She- like myself -inherited our mother's brilliant red hair, and for some reason too fond of the color to even attempt to conceal it. I myself always cropped my hair short, and was never without my helmet which worked to hide the ferocious color. Shae however preferred to grow out the thick locks; perhaps it was the only thing she had to remember our mother by, just like Lex's eyes were the only thing he had to recall our father.

But I didn't get up to bring myself to the dining hall; I had no reason to visit my siblings. They didn't want to see me, and I'm almost certain I didn't want to see them either. For a moment something twinges in my stomach- Guilt? Anger? -but I brush it off as fatigue. What did it matter anyway, the fact that we had grown so far apart? That's what would have happened if our parents were still alive anyway - we would have grown up and moved away and would forget or maybe chose not to stay in contact with one another. Nowadays I see them once, twice a week. Maybe more than that if you count the times we pass each other in the palace, the only greeting we offer each other a cold, unfeeling salute.

I sit in my office for a while, watching the wet snow hitting the windows and contemplating the relationship with my family when suddenly there's a knock at my door. I quickly drop my feet back onto the colorless carpet and move to open the door. Standing there nervously is a recruit, probably a little older than Shae. He salutes me and begins to speak in a choppy, uneven tone.

"Com- Commander Erol, sir? Th- the Baron wishes t- to speak with you. Pri- privately." His voice cracks as he stutters over the words, I can practically smell the fear radiating off of him. I barely look at him as I nod and turn to fetch my helmet.

"Understood. Tell Baron Praxis I will be right there." I don't bother to reply to the recruits response (Yes sir. And a Merry Christmas to you sir.") as I stride out into the hallway and down to the Baron's private chambers.

Praxis is a man of many things, and patience in not one of them. I make sure to hurry along the winding hallway that is draped in elegant red with dull, yellow humming lamps lighting the area. I don't stop to examine the paintings that adorn it. They don't hold any attention at all for me - in fact I find them quite unnecessary.

Finally I reach the heavy metal doors to his chambers and brush past the guards standing outside. They nearly trip over themselves as they struggle to salute me and I ignore them. Quietly I laugh to myself; how low ranked they must be, stuck guarding an unpenetrable door.

I enter and there is the baron in all his glory. He sends off an air of confidence, of superiority, of dignity - something I realize the artisan who painted the portraits in the hallway failed to capture.

Praxis doesn't seem to see me, his eyes remained fixated on the snow falling against his window; the snow has gotten heavier since I sat in my office. But then he speaks and I try to hide my startled start as a cough. "Going to be a white Christmas, don't you think Commander?"

I nod - I'm not sure what to say. But the baron continues.

"I'm sure you are speculating what I called you for Commander, especially on Christmas Eve."

Except for Christmas Eve being an inconvenience his statement rings true and I finally find my voice. "Yes sir. Not that I mind of course." I flash a crooked grin- this time a trademark from my father -and continue. "So what is it that you need me for sir?"

He is silent for a moment and I wonder if I said something wrong - had I offended him? But then he spoke. "I wanted to talk to you about our new... Program. The one you attended this afternoon."

Ah yes, Praxis' newest project. I think to this afternoon, when I had attended a session of the experiment. Was that the reason I had been so giddy today? Knowing I took part in the next step to winning this Mar damn war?

"I was thinking Commander..." I wait patiently for Praxis to continue. "I was thinking that I would appoint you with an official post in this program."

It takes a moment for this to sink in before I grin, the biggest so far. "Sir, I would love to be a part of the Dark Warrior Program." Suddenly a large clock in Praxis' study chimes. It's midnight.

Praxis nods his head and the side of his face not marred by the Metal Heads smiles. "Good Commander. Than see to it that you report to the prison tomorrow morning. You are dismissed."

I salute and leave. He doesn't wish me a Merry Christmas, and neither do I to him. After all, who needs the holidays? But I would be sure to wish a Merry Christmas to the new prisoner later that morning, that mute boy who seems resistant to the Dark Eco the Baron is ejecting into his bloodstream. I can feel that maybe it's going to be a good Christmas after all.

This is based off of Fishyicon's brilliant story, Nobody's Side which can be found here: fanfiction . net/s/5970712/1/Nobodys_Side
Just take out the spaces. And seriously, go read it. NOW.

~HAPPY HOLIDAYS~

leiaorganicsolo