Author's Note: All properties are the rights of their respective owners, Marvel, Respawn Entertainment, etc.

Yes, this is a Christmas chapter, no, I didn't originally plan to make that a theme until quite recently when I saw when this chapter would come out.

waceycorley: That's really humbling to hear and it's a surprise that I can have any kind of effect like that from sitting here behind my laptop but I'm glad I can help. And it's good that you enjoy the Dirty Yuri references because I'm not planning on stopping them anytime soon.

MarauderPrime12: Thanks man. As for the logbook, that whole 'Survivability Onion' is a real concept in Main Battle Tank design and doctrine, though I'm assuming you mean that final line where Cooper gives his critique of the theory. If so, it's a relief to see that the joke landed.

Endlessstrike: I know you're being sarcastic, but I'm going to give you an honest answer here by asking a question: what would be the alternative? I mean yeah, sure you could come up with a super advanced electronic system with biometric lock and yaddah yaddah yaddah, but this is for a less lethal smoke grenade and not a tactical thermonuclear weapon. It has to be mass produced, preferably cheaply and efficiently, and it's a one time use item. From a practical and economical standpoint, I don't think it likely that a more intricate and expensive system would be employed. From a storytelling perspective it helps to keep things close to real world analogues so it's all easier to comprehend as well, so it works out nicely. You're welcome to disagree of course, but that's my reasoning.

As for the title, this is a classic Christmas song from 1963 that's been rerecorded to hell and back like all the other decent holiday tunes. I picked it because it was the one I was least sick of hearing on my local radio station by the 22nd of December when I'm writing this intro. It's also the first time I've run into the upper limit of how long you can make an official chapter title on the website.


Power Without Question – Chapter 77: It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year

There'll be parties for hosting

Marshmallows for toasting

And caroling out in the snow

There'll be scary ghost stories

And tales of the glories of

Christmases long, long ago

It's the most wonderful time of the year


"So, let me get this straight…" began Felicia as she and Cooper walked side by side down the sidewalk towards the Manhattan Mall, "you don't like the holidays?" she asked, her tone verging on disbelief.

"I got nothing against Christmas darlin," drawled Matthew as he stuffed his hands deeper into his bomber jacket's pockets and shivered, "in fact I quite like Christmas. What I don't like is winter, specifically, winter anywhere north of the Mason-Dixon line. It's too damn cold for one," listed off the Texan as the couple continued on their way to do some Christmas shopping since it was already the second week of December. "Second of all, since we live here, you don't get to do yard lights because nobody has a front yard. And thirdly, the worst part of all, this fluffy white bullshit that's all over the place," snarled the Texan as he kicked a pile of said white bullshit that was on the sidewalk.

"You mean snow?" asked a somewhat bemused Hardy as Matt continued to grumble under his breath.

"Yeah, fucking snow," spat the Texan as he let out a breath that immediately condensed, "you can't wear normal shoes since your socks will get soaked and, worst of all, my cars are reduced to being garage queens. I went through the whole pain in the ass of putting snow tires on the Viper, Shelby, and McLaren and still can't drive them anywhere." One of the first things he had done once getting back from their vacation was take Widowmaker over to the McLaren dealership in Long Island for its service so it could hibernate alongside his two American sports cars down in the armory with BT until the roads were clear enough for him to drive any of those three cars.

"You poor man, stuck with just his Maxim hot 100 girlfriend and 400 horsepower pickup truck to do his Christmas shopping." Matthew shrugged, but his sour expression was replaced by a small smile as he felt Felica wrap an arm around his. "Though I hope you haven't forgotten about me when making your shopping list cowboy, I'd hate to be disappointed."

"Don't worry darlin, I'm just keeping my cards close to the chest is all," he assured with his southern drawl. That hadn't meant that it had been easy to find something for the platinum blonde, but he felt he had something good and wanted to maintain the surprise if he could. That also meant he wouldn't be picking it up today while Felicia was with him, instead the pair were picking stuff up for their other friends, even if neither of them had that many. Felicia had some high society acquaintances she was sending cards or bottles of wine to and Matt had to pick up some things for Yuri and a few other friends he had made at various car clubs and shooting ranges. But with Felicia still estranged from her mother and Matt having no family whatsoever, they were planning to host Peter and Mary Jane for dinner.

That also meant that they were going to put the Ford Raptor to use as a truck when they went to pick out a Christmas tree, but that was later. At this point, the couple crossed the threshold into the mall, notable to the Texan for the warm air that washed over him as for 'Run Run Rudolph' that was playing over the PA system. "Well, I can't wait to see what it is…and I promise I won't try to find out," said Felicia as the couple got their bearings, "but you won't get any sneak peaks of what I'm getting for you either."

Looking down at the heiress and the alluring smirk she had on her face, Matt grinned, "I don't think I'll want to spoil whatever surprise you have in store for me sweetheart, I know it's going to be good."

Matt gave her a quick kiss and when he pulled back he saw her licking her lips while there was a gleam in her eye, "you have no idea cowboy," she assured before pulling out her phone, "now, to everyone else on the list. Let's see who's first…ah, Mary Jane."

"Alright, well we might as well stick together," supposed Matt, his own list was on a notepad in his jacket even if he knew most of what he wanted, "where do you need to go for hers?"

Felicia scanned the shops past the throngs of shoppers, "over there, the Victoria's Secret."

Matt chuckled mirthfully and shook his head, "of course you do."


A flash of lightning and crack of thunder caused Natasha Romanov to snap her eyes to the sky, through the driving rain that poured down on the battered Renault 9 she drove through the outskirts of the capital of Symkaria, Aniana. "Widow to Tempest, I'm passing checkpoint India, do you have eyes on?" asked the Shield agent as she guided the old sedan through an intersection and pointed it towards the target building.

"Affirmative Widow," replied Parker, the spotter of the two man Green Beret Scout Sniper team, both men had been set up in a hide for the last four hours, keeping an eye on the city prior to Natasha arriving. "Be advised, Typhoon has eyes on hostile armor outside the target structure, proceed with caution."

That target structure was on the grounds of the former Royal Palace and only a few blocks away. "Acknowledged," replied the Avenger as she guided the battered Renault into a darkened alleyway and out of sight of the patrolling police that were out and about, presumably to provide security for the meeting that Romanov was there to infiltrate. "Grim, any last minute updates? We ever get a solid ID on those unknown VIPs?" asked the Black Widow as she pulled on a rain hat and stepped out of the car.

"I'm afraid not Widow," replied the SHIELD comms tech, "I have satellites monitoring the AO and will let you know if I get a positive ID. It does look like they're running a little behind schedule so you should have more than enough time to get into position. Luchenko is waiting for you at the loading bay of the supermarket three block east of your position in the back of a white box truck. Good luck, Grim out."

Getting her bearings, Natasha began to move east to head for the rendezvous with the last two members of Detachment 101 through the driving rain as another flash of lighting lit up the cloud filled sky. Moving cautiously, the Black Widow kept an eye out for any Symkarian forces and deftly avoided them until she reached her destination, spying the white box truck where her contacts were waiting. As she walked around the back of it she heard the lock unlatch and saw the door get thrown open to reveal the grizzled form of Frank Castle, "Romanov," he greeted gruffly as he reached down and pulled the Avenger up into the truck before checking that she hadn't been tailed and closing the door behind her.

"Castle," returned Black Widow with a curt nod before turning to the other man in the truck,

"Luchenko, you two have any problems?" she asked as she pulled off her hat and shook out her hair.

"None worth reporting" responded the fixer before casting a weary glance towards the Punisher, "though I think my companion caused some of the locals to shit themselves when I asked to buy this truck," he said with a slightly mirthful grin. Natasha fought to keep a straight face as she stripped off her trench coat to reveal her tactical suit underneath while Sergei opened one of the crates he had smuggled in and passed the Avenger her belt and gauntlets, complete with their full complement of 'Widow's Bite' cartridges. Next came a pair of Glock 26s and their fitted suppressors, which slipped neatly into the holsters on either side of the belt the Black Widow had strapped around her waist with the hourglass logo in front. Magazines filled with subsonic 9mm hollow point ammunition, lockpicks, and other gadgets filled the rest of the space on her belt, fastened securely to prevent them from jostling about and making unwanted noise. "Before you go," said Luchenko as he pulled out another box and opened it, laying out a map, "I was able to acquire this from the offices of a construction contractor."

A quick scan of the map revealed there was more to it, there were drawings of easily recognizable structures on them, "these are schematics of the Royal Palace…" realized Romanov.

"Correct, after the latest remodel that was done about 5 years ago, including…" began the Fixer before turning the page to reveal another schematic, only this one showed the tunnels and passageways that wove underneath her objective, "all of this. As you can see, the more modern constructions link into these older tunnels here and here," explained Luckehnko before tracing his finger down the path to a storm drain that was on the near side of the complex in relation to their current position. "And you have an easy insertion route, made even easier by these," he said, producing a key ring with a set of heavy, antique keys hanging off it.

"Excellent work," complimented the Avenger as she took the keys, "you got my exfil set up?" she asked, getting a curt nod back from the Georgian. In addition to the Renault, her own Harley Davidson LiveWire electric motorcycle was an option in case she needed to get out in a hurry.

"Castle, stay on five-minute alert, I shouldn't need you but…"

"You won't be the first spook I've bailed outta trouble," replied the Punisher dismissively as he wrapped his knuckles on the side of a crate, "everything's already loaded up in case this gets FUBAR."

Natasha nodded approvingly, of all the things that could be said about Frank Castle, she couldn't say that he wasn't ready in case he was needed. "Alright then, head for the safehouse. I'm going to go take in the sights," she said before pulling on a ski mask to conceal her features and offer her some protection against the elements, "and maybe figure out what Hydra has here that's so damn important."

Castle had unlatched the back door again and threw it up, just in time for a gust of wind to slam the rain into them as lightning ripped through the sky, "well they sure as shit ain't here for the weather," observed the Marine.

Natasha agreed wholeheartedly.


"Name?" asked a stern looking woman in a business suit with two armored soldiers behind her.

"Crimson," replied the former Apex Predator shortly as the door of the vehicle he had arrived in was closed behind him. Standing under the covered entrance as the rain continued to fall in sheets onto the cover above him, even if unlike most of the others who had arrived for this event, the Pilot was not in formal attire, opting to remain in his combat gear, even if he wasn't allowed to bring any weapons with him to this meeting. He was still dubious about whatever was happening exactly, and the Pilot hadn't been told much other than that his presence was expected to give an update on the projects he had been assigned to aid.

"Ah yes, Crimson, AIM's technical advisor and specialist contractor," read off the woman from her clipboard before looking up at the Apex Predator, "I must ask that you turn in any weapons currently in your possession. Do you have any?" she asked, to which Crimson merely shook his head silently. "Alright, we're going to check," said the woman, nodding towards one of the soldiers behind her, only instead of them being the normal Symkarian soldiers, these were wearing different uniforms. These were double breasted black affairs with white trim and a standout patch on the collars depicting a human skull with eight octopus arms under it in red set against a white background. The man waved what Crimson had learned was a metal detector over him, which beeped when it passed over his jump kit and a few other items, but they seemed satisfied with their search and didn't take anything from him, steeping back behind the doorwoman. "Very good, you may proceed, the meeting is going to begin shortly."

Nodding again, Crimson proceeded inside as the two soldiers opened the ornate doors, the Apex Predator stepping into a lavish parlor where the few suited men and women inside were moving further into the building, towards the boardroom where the meeting would take place. The room was darkened and dominated by a massive circular table, the center of which bore the same logo as the soldiers outside. "Be seated everyone," announced a commanding voice, "this meeting is brought to order."

The room quieted down as every seat was filled around the massive mahogany table, a serious looking bunch, each with a nameplate in front of their respective seat. Crimson eyed them wearily from behind his visor as a stern looking black haired woman with a scar on her face at the head of the table spoke clearly, "let us begin," she said with a piercing chill in her tone that filled the room. The woman whose nameplate identified her as 'Madame Hydra' continued, "our agents within SHIELD have confirmed that Silver Sablinova is intending to invade Symkaria within the foreseeable future. Supreme Hydra has sent me here to determine the best course of action in the face of this imminent threat." The woman then turned to a less intimidating man across from her, "Scientist Supreme, what is the status of your projects under development in Symkaria?"

Clearing his throat, Dr. George Tarleton adjusted his glasses and folded his hands calmly on the table before answering. "AIM is deep in development of multiple projects, some of which could very well be useful in dealing with this issue," replied Tarleton somewhat nervously before looking silently towards the olive skinned woman next to him, who merely nodded almost imperceptibly. "These are projects of very high importance, and they cannot simply be relocated due to the nature of them requiring specialized facilities."

Madame Hydra raised an eyebrow, "such as?"

"Such as…" trailed off Tarleton as he looked back towards the woman next to him.

Dr. Monica Rappaccini picked up where her boss had left off, "such as the Titan Project," answered the woman easily. "Our efforts to construct our own versions of the equipment used by the IMC in their invasion of New York earlier this year. We have made splendid progress on replicating their heavy mechs, known as Titans. I believe our advisor and test pilot is in attendance…" said Rappaccini as she narrowed her eyes and scanned the table before settling on the Pilot. "Crimson," she addressed calmly, "could you give a report? How did the tests go?"

The entire room now swung their focus to the Apex Predator, the young mercenary straightened under the collective gaze, face unreadable behind his helmet. "Our prototype has basic functionality; it moves and successfully navigated the obstacle course we have constructed. It climbs a 30% grade and has a lateral jump distance of 26 feet, meeting the specifications given. It also successfully forded a 12-foot-deep river, it should be able to ford a 16-foot-deep river, but we haven't been able to test that."

Around the room, several screens came to life, the test footage of the 22 foot robot played on screen. Most of the machine's skeleton of tubular metal struts is visible, armor only covering the most vital areas to save weight. The room watched as the machine, at Crimson's command, navigates the tests he described as the Pilot continued. "This one has a neural link that was scavenged from an IMC titan just so we could begin testing earlier, but we have replicated the technology successfully to be installed in future units." On the screens now was a clip of him pushing the machine up to its max speed, the camera shaking with each footstep as the Titan charged past. "Weapons tests are scheduled to begin this week now that we know the chassis itself is capable enough."

Looking around the table, he saw the woman at the head staring at him with cold green eyes, "you have experience with IMC Titans, correct?" asked Madame Hydra, getting a curt nod back. "And how, would you say," she began, a hint of venom in her voice, "do these prototypes you're testing compare to them?"

"Compared to the Atlas chassis I used…I would estimate that this prototype has about 75% of the capability of an Atlas. It's not as fast or as strong, and it lacks lateral thrusters or shielding," he answered honestly, seeing a slight downturn of Madame Hydra's lips. "You simply lack the raw materials to replicate the advanced alloys the IMC used. The IMC had access to dozens of mining worlds and all of their resources, there is not a way for you to match that supply chain." His answer was blunt, but he was an Apex Predator, both in name and his position on the food chain of those inside the room.

"I see," replied the woman who was clearly in charge as she tapped her fingers on the table, "would you say that these Titans would still be useful to us? If so, how soon would they be?"

"The weapon tests are the last ones we have to conduct to ensure we have a viable combat system," replied Crimson. "After that it's a matter of production and filling those Titans with either trained pilots or a decent combat AI."

"You leave that to us," said the black haired woman coolly, "Hydra has options to fulfill either of those requirements. All I want to know is how long it will take for you to begin production?"

Advanced Idea Mechanic's number 2 answered that question, "we have a production line set up and can begin the first production run by the end of next week. Realistically we can produce 20 chassis by the end of January and 12 per month after that," rattled off Rappaccini precisely. "Our production facility is already tooled up and we have stockpiled the required materials."

"Excellent," said Madame Hydra as her lips curled into a menacing smirk, "they'll be put to the test when Sablinova makes her move, Crimson, ensure that they are employed correctly," she ordered. The Apex Predator, for his part, gave a singular nod of acknowledgement. "Now, I want an update on the ASF-X and Nosferatu programs…"

And as the meeting continued, nobody noticed the Black Widow lurking in the vents above them.


"Cheer up Yuri, it's the holiday season after all," suggested Jean DeWolff as the Captain merely hummed in acknowledgement before taking another sip of her eggnog. The Commissioner rolled her eyes as other officers mingled in one of the decorated office spaces at 1PP around them, either around the Christmas tree that had been erected at the center of the space or near the various snacks that had been laid out. Seeing that Watanabe's disposition wasn't changing DeWolff sighed and asked, "what's bothering you Yuri?"

Watanabe worked her jaw and answered quietly, "just a lot of familiar faces are missing this year Jean. I didn't realize just how many until were gone until just now," admitted the Captain. "Makes me glad the year's almost over." She had heard the numbers, over 250 officers had been lost between arresting the Kingpin, fighting the Inner Demons, repulsing the IMC, and then the RAFT breakout and rise of the Sinister Six. Even knowing that, not seeing friends or acquaintances drove the point home more than that statistic ever could by itself.

Jean nodded as she sipped her own drink, "yeah, remember last year when Garnett put a bunch of mistletoe up everywhere and we wound up under one?" she asked as Watanabe's somber expression broke for a second and she started to crack a smile.

"I remember everyone being disappointed when we didn't kiss," joked Yuri, getting a chuckle from Jean before the Captain noticed the blonde looking out over crowd. "What're you looking for Jean?" asked Yuri as she tried to pick anything unusual out.

But the Commissioner shook her head, "just some people I invited but I guess they aren't going to show up," said DeWolff as she shook her head, "don't worry about it," she advised before taking a sip of her eggnog and was about to open her mouth to say something else when they heard a knock on the window behind them. "What the hell?" blurted DeWolff as Yuri spun around.

The Captain's thoughts weren't much different, "what are you doing here?" she said perhaps a bit louder than she intended, even though there was no way that Spider-Man could hear her through the glass of the window. Indeed, the Webhead merely waved back at her as he easily stuck to the outside of the building with a backpack slung over his shoulder. Still in a bit of shock, she reluctantly opened the window, getting a face full of cold December air for her troubles as the superhero swung in elegantly, sticking the landing in the office. Yuri moved to close the window only to almost get kicked in the face by a boot as the Marauder dropped down and pulled himself inside, lugging a box in one hand.

"You know you two were supposed to come in through the front door, right?" asked DeWolff as Spider-Man immediately grabbed a cookie from one of the party trays and pulled his mask up to take a bite. With him unable to answer the question, the Commissioner turned to the Pilot, only for him to shrug as Yuri rolled her eyes at their respective responses, but unable to stop herself from smiling a bit anyways. "Whatever," grumbled Jean, "happy holidays to you two."

The Marauder grumbled a bit before finally saying "screw you Commissioner, it's 'Merry Christmas.'" A few things happened in quick succession after that, Spider-Man almost spit out the bits of cookie that were in his mouth which caused Yuri to burst out laughing at the sight of the Webhead nearly choking on the snack as Jean's jaw dropped at the whole situation.

Finally, it was Spider-Man who managed to swallow without choking and turned to his friend, "you have a keen sense of tact man," quipped the Wallcrawler.

The Marauder wasn't perturbed, "it's a gift," deadpanned the SRS Commando as he set that box down, "and Merry Christmas to you too Captain. I'm afraid we're not going to be able to stick around for very long…though I don't think you'll mind that much."

"Aw that's not true," retorted Spidey instantly before he turned to the lawwoman, "right Yuri? You don't mind us stopping by, do you?" he asked, those white eye lenses must have been open as wide as they would go in what she was sure was an attempt to guilt her.

"No," she finally bit out before adding on quickly, "but if you even think about doing you damn Spider-Cop routine I will throw you back out that window without doing you the courtesy of opening it first. Got it?"

Spidey backed off, raising his hands in mock surrender as the Marauder sniggered within the confines of his helmet. Though the Pilot quieted when the Wallcrawler gave him a look, Yuri wasn't amused, instead narrowing her eyes at Spider-Man, who finally nodded reluctantly, "okay Captain. I'll resist the temptation to go through with the little spiel I had prepared," he admitted as he set his backpack down and opened it. Yuri couldn't help by try to peer inside, but the Wallcrawler quickly pulled out a wrapped box with what might have been the gaudiest Christmas themed wrapping paper she had ever seen, bright red with candy canes and Santa Clauses strewn across it. "Merry Christmas Yuri," he said with a simple sincerity that the usually quipping superhero didn't display very often. Taking the box, Watanabe quickly got rid of that atrociously tacky wrapping paper to reveal a rather plain looking carboard box that she opened too. "I heard about what happened to your last one," said Spider-Man with a bit of giddiness as she pulled out a mug that was proudly laser engraved with '#1 Captain,' in the same vein as the one that had been destroyed when the Chinatown Precinct was attacked by the Rikers.

Spinning it around, she looked over the other side of the drink vessel, which had been similarly laser engraved with an image of her police badge alongside an image of Spider-Man's face mask, the webbed circle with the white eye lenses. Over that was 'Spider-Cop and the Chief' written in an old school television show font. "Aw, that's kinda sweet," teased Jean as she ripped the mug away and gave it a once over, "if you don't want it, I'll take it."

"Give it back," snapped Watanabe as she took the mug back, "you make this yourself?" she asked, getting a somewhat nervous nod back from the Webhead before giving him a small smile. "That's really well done to be honest, thanks," she said before placing the mug back in the box and nodding to the box the Marauder was holding, "is that for me too?" she asked, "I'm guessing it's not as tasteful as this?" she said as she held the box up before setting it down on the table she was leaning on next to the food tray.

The Marauder shrugged as he set the box down, "Black Cat says I only have good taste in two things, cars and guns. You can probably deduce from the box which one I got you," he drawled easily. Stepping away, the Pilot revealed that, unlike Spider-Man, he hadn't bothered with wrapping paper, just tying a bow to the leather hardcase that Yuri was fairly certain to contain a rifle. Taking that off, Watanabe saw the lion and buck logo of the Mauser company embossed into the leather. Undoing the buckles on the leather straps the kept the box shut, Yuri carefully opened the case to reveal the red felt lined interior, but the standout was the wooden stocked rifle nestled securely inside.

"What is it?" asked Jean as Yuri gingerly lifted the scoped weapon out of the case and inspected the rifle. From how surprisingly light it was she could tell it was finely crafted, and the Schmitt and Bender 5-25x56 Scope mounted on it said it was a precision weapon that warranted a 25 times magnified optic. One side of the fore end of the wooden stock had been engraved with 'To Protect and Serve' on one side while the other read '…And Justice for All.'

"It's a gun," quipped Spider-Man, the Marauder obviously not taking a liking to that remark, gave his friend a half serious shove.

"Not just any gun," explained the Marauder as Yuri noted the bolt action and worked it, noting it might have been the smoothest action she had ever used. "That is a custom rifle hand built by Herr Gottfried Prechtl, one of Germany's best gunsmiths, a GOL Sniper Magnum in .338 Lapua. Sub MOA accurate and an effective range of about a thousand yards, it's a very serious rifle for a very serious person." Yuri could hear the smirk in the Marauder's tone and sent him a glare that found no purchase on the expressionless helmet. "I commissioned it specifically for you, Walnut stock, threaded Lothar Walther barrel to take a flash hider or suppressor, and Mauser bolt. That's also why it's engraved like that, I had them put that on there."

"Wow," remarked DeWolff, "and all my fiancé got me for Christmas was a spa day. What did you have to do to get something like that?" she asked suggestively.

Yuriko shot her friend a look as she put the rifle back in its case alongside the various accessories for the rifle and picked up her other gift, pointing to the 'Spider-Cop and the Chief' writing on the side of it, "because I put up with crap like this," she deadpanned.

"Hey!" moaned a chagrined Spidey, but not that insulted by the jibe as he quickly asked another question, "what's that writing on the side about? I mean, I know where 'To Protect and Serve' comes from, but what about the other one, 'Liberty and Justice' or something?"

The Marauder looked like he was about to answer but Yuri didn't need him to, "…And Justice for All," she answered easily, "it's a Metallica album." A silence followed suit as Yuri looked at the three people surrounding her, noting the blank look on DeWolff's face and Spider-Man's eye lenses blinking once as they stared. "What?" she asked, "I grew up in the 90's, I remember coming home with that CD when I was 14 years old. My mother was not happy," she recalled with a tinge of fondness.

"Huh," said Spider-Man blankly, "never would have guessed." Yuri waited for something else to follow, but nothing did.

"Hah," chuckled Yuri, "Spider-Man not able to make a witty comeback, talk about a Christmas Miracle."


Outside the window of Felicia's penthouse, snow fell to make Manhattan into a white covered winter wonderland, fitting since it was Christmas day. Not that Matthew Cooper needed any further reason to stay inside, but the Texan did appreciate the atmosphere the weather provided. Inside, the penthouse had not been decorated all that much barring the artificial Christmas tree, but 'Let it Snow' was playing ambiently on the stereo and Miracle on 34th Street was on the big plasma screen in the living room to make up for the lack of decorations. Peter and Mary Jane had spent the morning with MJ's Aunt Anna before coming over for a lunch that, in an odd reversal, Matt and Peter had mostly put together.

With lunch finished, the four were just sitting around, drinking hot chocolate, and idly chatting to pass the time. "Alright then," declared Felicia as she stood up, "I think it's time for the best part of Christmas." As Peter and MJ exchanged looks, the heiress made her way over to the tree and grabbed one of the wrapped boxes out from underneath it, "I'm a curious kitty and want to know what's in these boxes."

"But that one's for MJ," pointed out Peter plainly from his position as Felicia looked down at the label on the box and pouted at that development.

As for the redhead, she wasn't nearly as unenthusiastic about that proposal as Pete was, "yeah, and you should know what happens to curious cats," quipped the Associate Editor as she received the box from a somewhat reluctant Felicia. Indeed, there were quite a few boxes under the tree, everyone had gotten everyone else something, per the agreement they had come to a few weeks ago.

"Well Red, you should know that I love to walk on the wild side," replied Hardy as she rifled through the other parcels before passing one to the Webslinger and grabbing two more and heading back to the chair where Matt was sitting and handing him one with his name on it before taking a seat on the armrest. "Now usually I prefer to work a little harder to get stuff other people paid for, but I think I can live with myself," said Felicia as she eyed her box with a keen eye, trying to get a feel for the weight of it.

Cooper looked down at the box he had been saddled with to start and pulled out his small combat knife, extending the blade and slicing through the wrapping paper and cardboard box as everyone else tore opened up their gifts. With the box open, Matt pulled out a large frame, rustic in styling and wooden in construction, but the frame wasn't what was special, it was the picture inside. Even though the presents weren't labeled with who gave them, the Texan knew that only Peter could get a shot like this. It was a picture of the Empire State building taken from just above rooftop level, the buildings lining the street below on either side, a shining sun seemed to illuminate the building at the center. "That's a helluva shot pal," complimented the Pilot as he held up the framed photo for the room to see.

"Thanks," replied Peter as he pulled out a pair of chinos, casual vest, and solid blue button-down shirt, all very high quality and designer brands, "but who got me these? Aren't they a bit…too nice?"

"Nonsense Spider," replied Felicia, "you got a body that'll make those work like a charm. Trust me on that one, and your lady friend will appreciate it…along with the rest of the female population. If you've got it, flaunt it." Peter blushed hilariously, and Matt couldn't help but let out a bark of laughter as the platinum blonde looked to the redhead, "and thanks for this Red, I should have stolen one while we were there," she said as she held up the bottle of wine from Norman Osborn's vineyard.

"I'm sure you'll appreciate it more than I would have," she said humbly, "I got two bottles and I kept the other, a reminder of the fun we had together, I feel kinda bad though," she said as she held up a nice leather purse, "this is really nice."

"Oh, I didn't get you that," replied Felicia as she pointed to her boyfriend, "he did."

MJ's eyes widened as Matt shrugged and explained, "just because I have a lot of guns doesn't mean I don't notice when one goes missing," he replied with a smirk. "Once I get Felicia to tell me where it went I figured you needed somewhere to put it," explained the Texan as he pointed to the bag, "so there you go, there's a holster built into that and I gave you a shoulder holster in there as well, in case you want to carry under your coat."

The next couple round passed quickly, with Matt getting a bottle of Tennessee Whiskey from Mary Jane, while Peter got a couple bags of high end coffee beans from the Associate Editor. For her part, the redhead got a framed photo of Central Park from the Webslinger, though the fact that it was taken at night helped to hide some of the scars that dotted that land. Lastly, Matt's own gift to Felicia was a platinum watch with carbon fiber face, the hands and marks were emerald to stand out from the dark background, a color combination that reminded him of the woman he loved when he saw it.

But Father Christmas had them keep the best for last. Felicia got Peter's present, a striking shot of the Statue of Liberty that was really well put together from a composition standpoint. From Felicia, Cooper got that pair of Sable International Energy Pistols he had asked for right as Sablinova left New York. Peter also cracked open Matt's present, which also turned out to be clothes, only this was a bomber jacket adorned with the logo of Spider-Man in white, standing out from the black leather. "I can't wear this Coop," insisted the Webhead, "I'll just give away that I'm Spider-Man."

"No, you won't, dumbass," retorted Matthew without bothering to look up, "you are the least assuming looking fellow in this whole damn town. Hell, even the FBI didn't figure it out. I think you can get away with wearing a Spider-Man jacket. Hell, it's not like nobody else is." Every other souvenir stand sold Spider-Man hoodies and Marauder mugs, so it's not like he would look that out of place.

Whatever Peter was about to say was cut off by a gasp of shock from Mary Jane as she stared down at the contents of her last box with mouth agape, "who…" she wondered aloud as she scanned the room and her eyes quickly settled on a smirking Felicia, "you…"

"Me," affirmed Felicia as her smirk grew into a Cheshire grin. "Go on Red, show everyone what's in that box…I won't even ask you to put it on first." Of course, Matt knew what was in there, he had helped pick it out after all, and he was fighting, and losing, to keep a completely straight face. With a blush as red as her hair forming on her neck and cheeks, Mary Jane pulled out the lace lingerie set, a deep dark purple in color, it was comprised of a bra, thong, garter belt, and thigh high stockings that contrasted well against her red hair. "Like I told Spider, if you've got it, flaunt. And trust me girl, you have it," purred Hardy as MJ seemed to mull it over. "Go on Spider," encouraged the heiress, "tell her she'd look great in that."

Now put on the spot himself, Peter faltered as MJ too turned to look at him and he felt the pressure rise, "I don't want you to wear that," he blurted out as Matt let out a sigh and Felicia slammed her palm into her forehead as the Queens Native tried to unfuck the situation. "Not that you wouldn't look great in it, you would," he insisted as he verbally backpaddled as fast as he could, "I think you always look good. You don't have to wear something like that to make me happy," explained Peter.

"Okay then…" said Mary Jane with a tinge of sadness as she eyed the lace garments again and offered her boyfriend a second chance, "would you like me to try it?" she asked. After a moment's hesitation, Peter nodded carefully, trying not to seem too enthusiastic. "Then I'll try it once and see if you don't want me to wear it again in the future." Peter, unable to speak, simply nodded again in agreement as Mary Jane neatly folded up the lingerie and the pair gathered their gifts and bid the other couple farewell, before heading off to enjoy the rest of their Christmas.

"That was nice," said Matthew genuinely as the door closed behind Peter and MJ, "what did you think Darlin?"

"I enjoyed that," she replied honestly as the couple sat down on the love seat and she curled up against him, "almost felt like a proper Christmas…at least according to the movies. We never did much as a family when I was growing up," she admitted as Matt stroked her hair and felt a tinge of pity for her.

She didn't want him to, but it wasn't something he could help as he swallowed, "my folks always dragged me to Christmas Mass, but then we went over to my grandparents for a 'Cajun Christmas Lunch' and gifts before going to my other grandparents place for a traditional Christmas dinner…and more gifts." His fond recollection was met with a cute laugh from Felicia before he took a breath and his smile faded, "this is…it's not my first Christmas without them but…I still miss 'em." A moment of silence passed between them, "that was the last time I saw my grandparents actually, two years ago today. I had just finished school and was about to start my job in January, it was a special day, almost as special as today," he said, catching Felicia off guard as she looked up at him. When she did, he gave her a quick kiss, "because today was the first Christmas I spent with the woman I love," he said sincerely.

He wound up unwrapping one last Christmas Gift right there in front of the fireplace.


"Rise and shine Kaiser," barked Mack 'Truck' Williams as he gave the German driver a swift kick to the sternum and jarred him awake. Quickly, Herman Bäke, known to his crewmates as 'Kaiser,' shook himself awake as he grabbed his side and winced as he looked up at the commander of the tank he was assigned to. Truck was getting near 40, one of the older hands in the unit, and he was built like his nickname, stout and broad shouldered. The TC cut an imposing figure despite his greying hair and craggy features. "I told you that were partying too hard last night Herman," continued the ex-Abrams commander from Montana, "how about Ludy? She around here?"

"Happy new year to you too Truck," groused the former Bundeswehr NCO as the American offered him a hand and pulled Herman to his feet. The German fought to stay steady as he looked down at the empty bottles of beer from his homeland that he had enjoyed during the New Year's Eve celebrations. In contrast to the American, Herman was taller, but lankier, barely 160 pounds soaking wet. Jet black hair framed a plain face, the only standout feature was the long scar that ran down his cheek. Shaking his head to try and drive the hints of hangover from his brain, Kaiser finally was able to answer the asked question as he gestured up towards the T-84 tank he had been sleeping alongside that Mack had nicknamed 'Bronco', "and I think she's inside, she said she wasn't happy with the calibration of her gunsight the last time we were on the range last night…or was it two nights ago?" answered the German with a slight slur.

"Thanks," grunted Mack as he gave his driver a pat on the back, "go get yourself cleaned up, we got an inspection at oh nine thirty, boss lady herself is coming by." That seemed to get the driver's attention as he nodded and shambled off to do just that, the prospect of Silver Sablinova coming to inspect their Battalion was enough to get anyone who was a member of Sable International into high gear. Mack wasn't any different, hence why he was not keen to make a poor impression. Looking around where the rest of the tanks of 2nd platoon, 7th Armored Assault Battalion were parked, Williamson saw the other crews similarly recovering from the New Years Eve parties that had occurred around the base. Climbing up on to the engine deck of the Ukrainian made main battle tank and making his way over to the turret hatches, the mercenary unlatched the commander's hatch and slid down into his seat. The usually dark interior of the MBT was illuminated by a flashlight, which also silhouetted the diminutive form of Lyudmila Smirnova sitting in the gunner's seat just to his left. The lithe blonde was engrossed in the manual for her position and didn't seem notice Mack's presence.

After pondering what to do for a second, the Montana native carefully leaned across the breach of the 125mm and tapped Smirnova on the shoulder, causing the studious Russian woman to almost jump out of her seat. Indeed, if she had been any taller, she would have bashed her head into the turret roof as she 'eeeped' in surprise. It was all Williamson could do to not burst out laughing at his subordinate, but instead he waited patiently for her to gather her wits as she turned to face him. Even if her elfish features weren't clearly visible, Mack knew she was wide eyed from the tone of her voice, "I'm sorry sir, I didn't hear you come in," she admitted anxiously, still clutching the manual Sable International had issued the crews. Unlike the two others in the crew, Lyudmila hadn't served in her countries respective armed forces, instead she had been in administration with the Sable 4th Security Battalion in New York and had requested to be reassigned to a combat unit after that fiasco. "I was just trying to recalibrate the thermal sights; we were shooting a bit high during the last run at the range."

Mack merely leaned back and grabbed a tablet that was stored in a basket by his seat, booting it up and pulling up the results of that day on the range. Pursing his lips, he looked through the results, "are you sure?" he asked as he passed the tablet, "because you still were the third best shooter in the 7th despite being the only one who's doing their first stint as a tanker, hell, any combat role. If that was you with an off gunsight well…I sure as shit don't have any complaints."

"Thank you, sir," she replied quietly, and Mack gave a consoling smile that she barely could make out. Of all the people the 14-year US Army veteran and 4-year veteran of Sable International had had under his command, he couldn't recall one quite like the young Russian gunner assigned to him. Under most circumstances he would have thought her wholly unfit for frontline combat, from her slight stature, shy disposition, and elfish appearance, she certainly didn't have the look of a fighter, but she had proven driven, dedicated, and very capable at the gunners station she had been assigned to. She had learned quickly and was a bit of a perfectionist, a stark contrast to the more laid back German down in the driver's position. "Was there something you needed?" she asked, sending Mack back towards his original purpose.

"Yeah, Sablinova is swinging by in half an hour to inspect the battalion," he told her, "why don't you go get squared away and I'll talk to our girl here, see if I can't get her to tell me what's wrong," finished the American as he gave the breech of the 125mm smoothbore gun a pat.

That got the usually reserved woman's attention as she suddenly straightened, "understood sir," she replied crisply, "thank you," she said as Mack gave her a small smile before she pushed the hatch above her open and pulled herself out.

With just himself left inside of Bronco, Mack got to work, squeezing his way past the autoloading mechanism that fed rounds into the main gun and into the gunners seat, "alright girl," murmured the Montanan as he set to work, "let's see what's ailing you." While Smirnova was excellent at working through things by the book, Williamson had the experience to know what things could be wrong that weren't mentioned in the manual. And sure enough, he found that the issue wasn't one with the fire control system, but one of the bolts on the mount for the cannon was a bit loose. By the time he had fixed that up and done a bit of other maintenance, he hadn't realized what the time was until he heard a banging on the hatch above him. "Shit," he cursed as he toweled off his hands and climbed out of the T-84 to find Lyudmila and Kaiser waiting for him. "Fall in you two, Herman, straighten your cover," he ordered sharply as the German complied lazily. "Ludy, I think I fixed that alignment problem; she should be shooting straighter than a Nevada highway now."

With that, Truck fixed his uniform and fell in alongside his two crewmates, standing at attention as the other vehicle crews did the same. 2nd platoon was comprised of four T-84s, including Bronco, and one BMPT Terminator fire support vehicle to supplement the heavy hitting -84s. They were one of three such units in the 7th and featured a serious amount of firepower. But that wasn't the vehicles that people were focused on, that honor went to the smaller and less intimidating ROVR, the low slung road car looked almost comically out of place amongst the hundreds of tons of armor and guns that surrounded it. But the woman who stood next to it, all 5'5" of her, did not.

For a few tense moments, Sablinova scanned the arrayed vehicles and crews before her accented voice broke the tense silence. "I have come here today," she began, "to see if you all will be up to the task I have set before you. As you may know, we are planning to move into Symkaria…my homeland. I can assure you that none of you have ever had an assignment quite like this one," continued the woman as she walked along the rows of vehicles, face stoic and resolute as she eyed each mercenary she passed. "Because unlike any other contract, we will not be entering Symkaria to provide security or enforce martial law," she announced, "but rather to provide something that, as an organization, have never offered before: Hope."

Sable came to a stop at the end of the arrayed vehicles, having captured the ear of every man and woman there, her stoic calm fading as she spoke quietly and sincerely. "To tell you all the truth, I am afraid. Afraid of what I will find in the country I left, afraid of the state her people might be in, afraid of who might be leading Symkaria now," she admitted before steeling herself, "but I am not afraid of the future. I am confident…no, certain, that we will prevail. In the end, with your help, I will no longer have to be afraid of anything in my homeland."

Despite Sablinova's well-earned reputation for being a 'from the front' type of commander, Mack had only seen her a handful of times, and never had he seen, or expected to see, that kind of emotion from the Symkarian. But that wasn't as surprising as what happened next. "I'm with you," replied a voice, shaking only slightly in its delivery before Truck realized the source was Lyudmila next to him.

It seemed everyone else had heard her too, subtly shifting to look at her, including, Mack noticed, Sablinova. Smirnova, however, seemed to shrink and wanted to hide behind the TC as the Symkarian strode towards them and came to a stop ahead of Lyudmila, though Mack thought he saw a small gleam in her eye as she spoke. "That is good to hear," she said before turning to the rest of the platoon, "will there be anyone else?"

Almost as one, the platoon replied, "yes ma'am," and the other crew members of Bronco were no exception.

"One week," announced Silver Sablinova, "we all go in one week."


Sable International Briefing – Symkarian Political Situation

Document ID: A1354 – DX9 – 185K – 1

Author: S. Sablinova, Commanding Officer: Sable International Combined Forces (CO: SICF)

Date: 18-12-21

CONFIDENTIAL

The information in this briefing is not to be taken lightly, it is expected that the facts and directives laid out in this brief overview will be kept in mind and taken into account once operations begin. As such, this information is to be relayed to all Sable International personnel in whatever manner deemed fit by the Commanding Officer of each unit. Further reading is available through the documents attached to this briefing, much of it is from recent reports by American, British, and Russian intelligence services, but in some cases the reports are conflicting, and there are some questions that have no answer at this time.

But what is certain is that the current Oligarchical Regime is being propped up by outside influences, though the exact nature of this influence is subject to much dispute. What is more certain are the conditions of this Regime's control over the country of Symkaria and her people. The uppermost group of the ruling class, collectively called 'The Ministers,' maintain control over the Symkarian people through liberal use of paramilitary forces of varying quality in terms of training, equipment, and ethics. It cannot be expected that these forces will abide by standard Rules of Engagement and so the utmost caution must be used when engaging the enemy within the vicinity of persons or properties that could result in collateral damage.

There are no 'regular' forces to speak of, merely groups of 'Loyalist' paramilitaries that answer to The Ministers. All of these are to be considered enemy combatants, treated as hostile, and engaged on sight with the aim being their destruction or capture. Their capabilities are as varied as their backgrounds which include, but are not limited to, local units of volunteers or conscripts under the command of officers appointed to their station by The Ministers, more organized units of foreign mercenaries, and terrorist groups acting as enforcers for The Ministers in exchange for safe haven. For more details on these groups and their projected capabilities refer to attachment 'E' below.

Lastly, a few words on the general disposition of the civilian population. After a decade and a half living under an oppressive government, there is believed to be much contempt for The Ministers among the population. It is not expected that civilians will take an active role in the conflict as those who speak out against the current regime, The Ministers, or any local government officials are swiftly rounded up by the Symkarian secret police, the DSV. All Sable International Personnel are directed to capture and interrogate any confirmed DSV agents. Upon completion of interrogation, DSV agents may be summarily executed should the ranking Sable International member present deem it appropriate. If not, they will be held for trial once combat operations are complete. Sable International will not act as the DSV did under any circumstances, any and all mistreatment of civilians will not be tolerated. Refer to attachment 'G' below for the updated Sable International Rules of Engagement.

There exists only one exemption to those Rules of Engagement. Due to the enemy outnumbering us, it is understood that avoidable losses of personnel and material cannot be suffered so that the enemy may not beat us through attrition. Therefore, collateral damage is acceptable under the circumstance that it prevents the loss of Sable International assets to hostile action.

That is all.

S. Sablinova


Closing Notes: Since I'm running out of guns for Cooper to talk about, I decided to try something a little bit different. I'm curious what y'all think, for those of you who read the Logbooks/Briefings anyways. I'm considering opening this up to include more from Silver Sable as well as potentially other characters too. I want to keep that ending exposition bit related to the story if I can, but if y'all would rather just have Cooper pontificate on anything at all, even if it isn't related to the story in the slightest, I could do that too.

Otherwise, I wanted to set up the stuff regarding Symkaria more than anything, including Detachment 101's operations, what they uncover, an Ace Combat reference, and then introduce the tank crew at the end there. Everything else was just me having a little fun to tie up a few loose ends and set up a few things, though I did have quite a bit of fun deciding on everyone's Christmas presents. Hopefully you all got a kick out of at least one of those exchanges. Leave a review if you had a favorite, or a better idea, or have something else to say at all.

But you heard the lady, next week we go through the gates of hell as we make our way to heaven, through the Nazi lines. Primo Victoria.

Until then, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas.

And if you happen to not celebrate Christmas, then Stay Frosty, Misfit Delta out.