The snow was falling. Not gently, like in those heartwarming Christmas movies where everyone learns a lesson about love and family—but aggressively, like it had been conscripted by Perditia and ordered to achieve saturation coverage.
The player Deadpool stood on a pile of spent shell casings, wearing a Santa hat that had clearly been stolen off a corpse that might still be warm.
"Okay, listen up, you beautifully expendable patriots and genetically questionable mushroom men," he said, clapping his hands. "Rule number one of Christmas caroling: you sing, you do not scream like you're being disemboweled by joy. That comes later."
A squad of Helldivers stood nearby, armor painted festively with crude candy canes, eagles wearing Santa hats, and at least one badly drawn snowman firing a machine gun. Their capes flapped heroically in the freezing wind.
Opposite them loomed three Orks, massive, green, and wearing what they insisted were Christmas sweaters. One of them had duct-taped jingle bells to his shoota.
"How the f*ck did you get orks to listen to you!"
"I just took some mind control devices from the other fanfic" said Deadpool nonchalantly.
"Those guys are insane and not as lazy as you 'Helldivers'" gesturing with his fingers.
"The hell is talking about?!"
...
"DIS IS KRISS-MASS, ROIGHT?" the biggest Ork rumbled. "WOT YOO DO IZ DRINK, SING, AN' FIGHT… BUT NOT IN DAT ORDA."
"Yes," Deadpool nodded seriously. "Exactly. Also capitalism."
On a folding table between the two factions sat an impressive lineup of beverages: Perditia-issue Freedom Ale, something labeled 'Definitely Not Explosive', and a mysterious Ork concoction bubbling ominously inside a fuel canister.
A Helldiver raised a hand. "Sir, respectfully, why are we doing a beer contest with Orks during an active war in Orpheus?"
Deadpool put an arm around the soldier. "Because it's Christmas, soldier. And because if I don't, the writers will make this chapter depressing."
The Orks cheered as the first round began.
********
"Alright!" Deadpool announced. "First carol: Silent Night. Ork-friendly lyrics provided."
He handed a crumpled sheet of paper to the Ork leader.
The Ork squinted. "DIS SAYZ 'VIOLENT NOIGHT.'"
"Yes," Deadpool said. "Regionalism."
The Helldivers began, voices surprisingly harmonious.
🎵 Silent night, holy night— 🎵
The Orks joined in at full volume.
🎵 VIOLENT NOIGHT, KRUMPIN' NOIGHT— 🎵
One Helldiver winced. Another quietly activated his helmet noise dampeners.
🎵 ALL IZ DED, ALL IZ LOOT— 🎵
The Orks swayed, arms around each other, accidentally crushing a small decorative pine tree that had been deployed via drop pod earlier.
Deadpool wiped away a tear. "This is beautiful. I'm putting this in my Christmas scrapbook right next to the time I stabbed Frosty the Snowman."
*******
Round one: Freedom Ale.
The Helldivers drank efficiently, like real pros. The Orks chugged with reckless enthusiasm, most of the liquid spilling onto their armor.
Deadpool slammed his mug down. "Tastes like liberty and mild liver damage!"
Round two: Definitely Not Explosive.
One Helldiver drank, paused, then burst into flames.
"I'M FINE," he shouted, giving a thumbs-up as medics dragged him away.
The Orks drank theirs. One of them belched, causing a small shockwave.
"DAT'S A GOOD ONE," the Ork said. "TASTES LIKE A SQUIG WOT LOST A FIGHT."
Round three: Ork Brew.
Deadpool sniffed it. The brew hissed back.
"Oh no," he said happily. "This is going to kill me."
They all drank.
Reality wobbled.
One Helldiver started crying about how much he loved his sister. Another began singing Jingle Bells in binary. An Ork attempted to hug Deadpool and accidentally dislocated three of his vertebrae.
Deadpool regenerated and hugged back. "Aww, you guys really get Christmas."
***********
Snow fell heavier. Someone—no one was sure who—had strung lights across a ruined bunker. The lights flickered in the shape of a skull wearing a Santa hat.
The final carol began.
🎵 Jingle bells, bolter shells, drop pods hit the ground— 🎵
🎵 OH WOT FUN IT IZ TO KRUMP A GIT WIF FRIENDZ AROUND— 🎵
The Helldivers and Orks sang together, arms slung over shoulders, swaying dangerously close to live ammunition crates.
Deadpool conducted with two katanas.
"Louder!" he shouted. "For baby Jesus! Or the Emperor! Or whoever owns the merchandising rights!"
As the song ended, there was a brief, sacred silence.
Then an orbital strike alarm went off.
The Helldivers froze.
The Orks grinned.
Deadpool sighed. "Welp. Christmas is officially over."
The Ork leader raised his mug. "NEXT YEAR, SAME TIME?"
Deadpool clinked his own mug against it. "You bring the sweaters. I'll bring some shawarma."
The sky lit up. Explosions rained down. The caroling dissolved into cheerful chaos.