22. Krampus

CHAPTER 22

KRAMPUS

T he security panel sparks under my claws. These Grolgath idiots still use the same codes from three centuries ago.

"Someone's been a naughty boy." Gregor's voice crackles through the building's speakers. "We knew you'd come."

I rip the panel off the wall and toss it aside. "Good. Saves me the trouble of hunting you down."

A squad of guards rounds the corner, plasma rifles raised.

"Stand down, criminal."

"Make me."

The first shot singes my fur. I grab the nearest guard and use him as a shield against his companions. Their weapons discharge harmlessly against his armor.

"Sorry about your friend." I hurl the unconscious guard into two others. "Actually, no I'm not."

More troops pour in from both sides of the corridor. Time to show these amateurs how we fought in the old days.

I charge straight at them, roaring. Their formation breaks. Amateur hour.

"Is this really the best you can do?" I slam two guard's heads together. "I've fought tougher toddlers."

A stun baton catches me in the ribs. Tickles. I grab it and jam it into its owner's chest. The guard drops, twitching.

"Getting tired yet?" Gregor taunts through the speakers.

"Nope." I punt another guard through a wall. "But your insurance premiums are about to go up."

Three more rush me with shock sticks. I grab one by the ankles and swing him like a club.

"Having fun?" Gregor asks.

"Time of my life." I headbutt the last guard standing. "But playtime's over. Where's Mel?"

"Come and see for yourself. If you can make it past the next wave."

More troops stream in, weapons ready.

"Challenge accepted." I crack my knuckles and bare my fangs. "Who wants to go first?"

These guards fall like dominoes. Almost disappointing. The last one tries to crawl away, so I help him along with my boot.

"Thanks for the workout." I dust off my hands. "Now, where's that launch control?"

The sub-basement reeks of ozone and mold. Familiar smells - I spent centuries down here after all. Speaking of which...

My old cryo pod sits in the corner, right where I left it. Except something's wrong. The status lights pulse green instead of the dead black I remember.

"What the hell?"

The pod hums with power. Frost coats the dome, but there's definitely someone inside. The shape looks... familiar.

My claws scrape across the glass, clearing away the ice. Blue fur. Horns. A face I know better than any other.

"No way." I press my nose against the dome. "That's impossible."

My own face stares back at me, peaceful in cryo-sleep. Same scars. Same markings. Even that notch in my left horn from that bar fight on Centauri Prime.

The pod's readout shows it's been active for three hundred years. Which means...

If I'm in there, then who the hell am I?

Red eyes snap open in the pod, matching my own. Steam hisses as the dome slides back. My duplicate rises, muscles rippling under blue fur identical to mine.

"Beautiful, isn't he?" Gregor's voice oozes satisfaction. "Your genetic template was perfect. All your strength, speed, and power - but none of those pesky moral hangups."

"You cloned me?" The words taste like ash in my mouth.

"Had to pass the time somehow while you were on ice. Think of him as version 2.0 - new and improved."

The clone tilts his head, studying me with predatory focus. No recognition in those eyes. Just hunger.

"Kill him," Gregor commands.

My duplicate launches forward with devastating speed. I barely dodge the first strike that leaves a crater in the wall behind me.

"Nice punch." I roll away from a kick that would have taken my head off. "But I've got something you don't."

The clone snarls, all animal instinct.

"Experience." I duck under another wild swing. "And better fashion sense."

We trade blows that would shatter concrete. Each impact sends shockwaves through the room. He's strong - maybe stronger than me. But his attacks are pure aggression, no technique.

"Having trouble?" Gregor taunts. "He's everything you could have been without your foolish ideals holding you back."

The clone catches me with an uppercut that lifts me off my feet. Pain explodes through my jaw.

"You know what else he doesn't have?" I spit blood and bare my fangs. "Someone to fight for."

Mel's face flashes through my mind. Sam's innocent smile. The thought of them gives me strength as I square off against my savage reflection.

"Let's dance, handsome."

My clone's fist whistles past my ear. Raw strength, no finesse. Three centuries of combat experience tell me exactly what to do next.

"You're telegraphing." I catch his arm and twist. "Amateur move."

He roars and breaks free, but I've already ducked under his wild counter-swing. His momentum carries him forward as I drive my knee into his gut.

"See, this is why you need proper training." My elbow crashes into the back of his neck. "Natural talent only gets you so far."

The clone stumbles, then charges like an enraged bull. I sidestep and grab his horns, using his own force to slam him face-first into the wall.

"You're just copying what you've seen in action vids." I dodge another haymaker. "I learned the hard way. In real fights."

His attacks grow wilder, more desperate. Each miss leaves him more exposed. Time to end this.

I feint left, then spring right as he takes the bait. My hands lock around his waist and I heave with everything I've got.

The clone sails through the air, right into the starship's control panel. Sparks fly as circuits overload. The impact finally puts him down for good.

A deep rumble shakes the building. Warning klaxons blare as emergency lights start flashing.

"What have you done?" Gregor's voice crackles with panic over the intercom.

The starship's engines cycle up with a rising whine. Looks like my clone's crash landing did more damage than expected. Sometimes luck beats planning.

The ship's engines scream to life, lifting the vessel higher into the night sky. No time for stairs. I smash through the nearest window, glass tinkling around me like deadly rain.

"Mel!" My voice echoes off concrete and steel. The ship hovers hundreds of feet above, its hull gleaming under city lights.

Only one way up. My claws dig into brick and mortar as I scale the building's face. Not fast enough. The gap widens with each passing second.

"To hell with it."

I launch myself from the roof's edge, arms outstretched. The ship looms just out of reach. My fingers brush metal, then slip away.

Gravity takes hold. Wind whips past my ears as I plummet toward the street below. The ground rushes up to meet me.

A giant red blob fills my vision - some kind of inflatable decoration. Better than concrete.

"Ho ho ho- oof!"

My horns pierce vinyl as I crash through Santa's jolly belly. Air whooshes out in a long, wet-sounding raspberry that echoes across Times Square.

"Ewww!"

"Gross!"

"Did Santa just..."

Humans scatter like startled pigeons, their faces twisted in disgust. The once-mighty Saint Nicholas deflates beneath me with a sad whimper.

"Sorry about that, big guy." I pat what's left of his plastic head. "You deserved better."

A shadow falls across the deflated Santa. The scent hits my nostrils - Veritas agent, trying to smell human but failing miserably.

"Quite the show." Pyke adjusts his human disguise, a bland businessman type. "Though perhaps a bit excessive."

"You try falling six stories with style." I extract myself from Saint Nick's remains. "Where are they?"

"Safe. We've contained the situation. Our media contacts are spinning the ship launch as a holiday firework display gone wrong." He hands me a tablet showing various news headlines. "Seems humans will believe anything around Christmas time."

"And Gregor?"

"Gone. But we'll find him." Pyke extends his hand. "I must say, it's been a pleasure working with you, Krampus. Perhaps we could-"

"I wish I could say the same." A laugh rumbles in my chest as I ignore his offered handshake. "Now piss off. I have a promise to keep to the woman I love."