When hell freezes over
Two days had passed since the captain reluctantly agreed to accept the help of Hell's inhabitants in repairing a complex military device. The very thought repulsed him—that the fate of his missing soldiers now depended on demons. But there weren’t many options. That girl had been right—his squad’s resources were extremely limited. Even the fuel was running out fast, and they had enough left for only a few more trips at best. The only saving grace was the additional tanks installed on their MRAPs before arriving here, along with the fuel canisters secured to the roofs. But even those reserves wouldn’t last long.
Every outing required meticulous calculations. The captain knew that without their vehicles, they’d be dangerously vulnerable to the surrounding threats.
He stood by the window, lost in thought, when something unusual caught his eye. Everything outside was white. At first glance, it looked like a thick fog, but tiny crystals were drifting slowly through the air, settling on the ground. He frowned, staring at the phenomenon suspiciously, and then threw on his jacket and headed outside.
The moment he stepped out, he understood—it was snow. Real snow, covering the ground in a soft, crunchy layer. The crisp air carried a freshness that seemed utterly out of place in Hell’s usual suffocating atmosphere. He bent down, scooping up a handful of snow, which immediately began to melt, leaving cold droplets on his gloves.
Behind him came the sound of cautious footsteps. It was the same demon girl he’d been trying to keep his distance from. She stepped outside, glanced around, and smiled, as if the sight genuinely pleased her.
“Do you like it?” she asked with a childlike excitement.
The captain gave a curt nod, his attention still fixed on the snowflakes. “What is it?”
“Snow. Ordinary snow—for you, at least,” she replied. “Once a year, on New Year’s, the cold from the mortal realm reaches Hell. In a way, Hell freezes over.”
She chuckled, as though recalling something amusing. “So now you can say you’ve seen Hell freeze over.”
The captain shot her a quick glance but said nothing. There was too much about her behavior that kept him on edge—her respectful tone, her eagerness to help—it all seemed too... proper. Too suspicious. He didn’t trust her and avoided unnecessary conversations.
Charlie, noticing his silence, hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Oh, by the way, I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Charlie.”
The captain looked at her, pausing briefly before replying, “That doesn’t concern me.”
Her expression faltered slightly, but she quickly restored her friendly demeanor. “As you wish,” she said quietly, failing to hide her sadness.
At that moment, Father Miguel appeared from the building. He looked concerned, but upon spotting the captain and Charlie, his expression eased a little.
“Captain, we’ve got some good news,” he said. “It seems Dust finally managed to acquire the necessary components. We’ll be able to begin repairs soon.”
Hearing the news, Andrew frowned but exhaled with quiet relief. He gave Miguel a small nod.
“Good. Prepare for the work,” he said briefly before turning to Charlie. “If your demon messes this up…” He left the threat unfinished, but his look was clear enough.
Charlie met his distrust with her usual smile, though there was a flicker of something like weariness in her eyes.
“Angel won’t let you down. I personally made sure he understood exactly what’s required.”
Charlie and Miguel remained in the courtyard, watching as the soldiers carefully transported the equipment inside. They stood in silence for a while, listening to the sound of footsteps and orders fading into the building.
“Does he treat everyone with such suspicion?” Charlie asked quietly, still looking at the door through which Andrew had disappeared.
Miguel paused, thoughtful, before turning to her. His voice was soft but serious.
“Captain is a man who’s lost much and sacrificed more. He carries an enormous responsibility for his soldiers. Every decision he makes is with their lives in mind. And he can’t afford to trust someone who hasn’t proven they deserve it.”
He hesitated, as though choosing his next words carefully.
“His distrust doesn’t come from malice or a desire to push people away. It’s his way of protecting all of us. Even if, at times, it comes across as... harsh.”
Charlie nodded slowly, digesting his words.
“But surely he can’t always be alone against the world, right?” she said, her voice tinged with a quiet plea.
Miguel gave her a faint smile, though his expression remained pensive.
“A man can endure a great deal, Charlie. But even the strongest soldier isn’t made of steel. Sooner or later, everyone needs support, even if they refuse to admit it.”
The priest’s gaze shifted back to the door, and he added in almost a whisper, “I pray he finds it before he loses too much.”
Charlie couldn’t find the right words to respond. It seemed the priest knew things about the captain that few could imagine.
Several days had passed since Ares, Lewis, and David stumbled upon an abandoned building and decided to hole up there. It turned out to be relatively suitable as a shelter: sturdy walls, a surviving piece of roof, and even a basement they used as a temporary hideout whenever patrols passed nearby. Still, life there offered little comfort. The cold had become their worst enemy. In Hell, where heat was a constant companion, the sudden frost felt utterly surreal.
“What even is this?” Lewis muttered irritably, sitting by the makeshift fire they’d built from broken furniture. His voice echoed off the empty walls. “This is Hell, for God’s sake, and we’re freezing to death!”
“Maybe the climate’s changing?” Ares quipped, rubbing his hands over the flames. “Or maybe we’re missing something.”
“This is Hell. It doesn’t have winters,” David replied flatly, his rifle resting nearby. He looked exhausted, but his eyes remained sharp, alert for any threats.
Suddenly, distant noises came from above. It wasn’t the wind—more like the sound of a wall collapsing, followed by... manic laughter. Ares motioned for silence, and the three quickly doused the fire, plunging the room into dimness.
“What is that?” Lewis whispered, clutching his weapon.
“No idea,” Ares murmured, “but we’d better figure out who’s out there before they figure out we’re here.”
They crept upstairs cautiously, making as little noise as possible. Through the broken windows, sharp voices carried in from outside. Ares carefully peeked out, trying not to reveal their position.
Two figures stood in the street: a girl with bright pink hair and an unnaturally wide grin, and a bizarre snake-like creature wearing a top hat. They were arguing, gesturing wildly, and then... an explosion. A blinding flash of light tore through the air, forcing the soldiers to duck.
“Was that a bomb?!” Lewis whispered in panic.
“She’s got a knack for real fireworks,” Ares muttered in awe, watching as the girl laughed and tossed another spherical bomb. The explosion lit up the night sky again, tearing a new hole in the wall of a nearby building. The snake-like companion seemed less than pleased, judging by his hysterical screeches.
“Great,” David whispered. “More lunatics.”
“Should we just wait it out?” Lewis suggested. “If they start fighting each other, they might not notice us.”
“Let’s hope you’re right,” Ares replied grimly, retreating deeper into the building. “But keep your weapons ready. If those two head this way, we’d better meet them properly.”
Another explosion erupted even closer, shaking the walls and causing dust to rain down from the ceiling. Cherry Bomb and Sir Pentious seemed to have taken their chaos to the next level.
“Fantastic. Just what we needed,” David muttered. “Now the whole damn building might collapse.”
Outside, Cherry’s laughter rang out: “Pentious, are you tired already? I’m just getting started!”
“That girl is definitely insane,” Lewis grumbled. “Let’s just hope they don’t notice us, or we’ll have to explain why we’re even here.”
“I like her vibe, though,” Ares said with a sly grin.
Everything was going its own way. The soldiers were busy with their duties, tensely preparing for the challenges ahead, while in the corner of the hall, Charlie sat, thoughtfully sketching something on a sheet of paper. From time to time, she glanced at the others but hesitated to speak. The atmosphere remained heavy: thoughts of missing comrades and scarce resources weighed on everyone.
Miguel, noticing her pensiveness, approached her.
“Something wrong?” he asked quietly, sitting down beside her.
“No, everything’s fine,” Charlie smiled, but the smile came out strained. “I’m just thinking… you know, it’s December 31. New Year’s Eve. I was trying to come up with something… special. Something that could lift everyone’s spirits a bit.”
Miguel chuckled, looking at her drawing. It depicted something resembling decorations: stars, ribbons, and even a Christmas tree, though in a rather abstract style.
“You want to throw a celebration?” he asked, raising an eyebrow slightly.
“Why not?” Charlie replied. “We all need a little light right now. Even if it’s just decorations and… an improvised dinner. Maybe it’ll remind us that we have something in common, despite all our differences.”
Miguel thought for a moment. He looked at the other soldiers, busy with their small tasks, then glanced at Adam, who was still lying in the improvised infirmary, though he looked a bit better.
“Hm… I think it could be a good idea. At least to distract everyone from dark thoughts. I’ll help if needed.”
“Really?” Charlie brightened up, her eyes sparkling. “Thank you, Father Miguel!”
“Just don’t expect me to be good at decorating halls,” he replied with a slight smile. “But I can suggest a few ideas.”
Later, when most of the squad had gathered in the hall, Miguel gave her a nod. The soldiers were discussing recent movements and their plans for the near future. The captain stood aside, observing the conversation. Adam, still confined to his bed, was in another room, but his presence was felt: the soldiers frequently mentioned his health and general condition.
Charlie, feeling a bit nervous, stepped closer. She stood a little apart, not wanting to interrupt the conversation, but Logan noticed her.
“Got something to say?” he asked, drawing the others’ attention to her.
Charlie swallowed, feeling the tense gazes on her. Many of the soldiers still hadn’t learned to hide their distrust. She took a step forward anyway.
“I know this is a difficult time for all of you,” she began, trying to speak confidently. “But today is December 31. New Year’s Eve. I thought we could have a small… improvised celebration. Nothing fancy—just decorate this place a bit, make dinner with what we have. It might help distract from all the negativity.”
For a moment, the room was silent. Then Edward, sitting nearby, scoffed.
“A celebration? In this hellhole? Instead of doing our job?”
“It might not be such a bad idea,” Logan unexpectedly spoke up. He stretched lazily and added, “As long as it’s without overdoing it.”
“Are you serious?” Edward looked at him incredulously. “We’re in hell, surrounded by who knows what, and you’re suggesting we celebrate?”
“And you’re suggesting we sit and mope?” Logan retorted. “If it helps keep us sane, why not?”
Miguel also sided with Charlie:
“She’s right. It could be helpful. Both for morale and to remind us that we’re still alive.”
The captain, who had been silent until now, finally spoke.
“As long as it doesn’t interfere with our duties and doesn’t cause unnecessary noise, I don’t mind. But handle it yourselves.”
Charlie exhaled in relief. Though most remained skeptical, she knew she had the support of at least a few people.
“Thank you,” she said softly, looking at the captain. Then she turned to Logan and Miguel. “I think we’ll need to figure out what we can use.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Miguel smiled. “Just tell me where to hang all these… stars.”
Logan chuckled.
“I’ll take care of getting the old lamps working again. It won’t be a full-on laser show, but it’s something.”
From that moment, Charlie’s idea began to come to life.
The crackle of the fire filled the room with a cozy sound, but the tension among the soldiers didn’t ease. Ares, Lewis, and David sat around an improvised fire, exchanging short phrases. Lewis thoughtfully spun a bullet in his hands, staring into the flames.
“How much longer do you think we’ll last here?” he muttered, not looking up.
“Hey, pessimist, knock it off!” Ares snapped, throwing a piece of dry wood at Lewis. “We’ve got this under control. If anyone gets out of here alive, it’s me. And you guys, if you don’t screw it up.”
David sighed, crossing his arms and looking toward the shattered window.
“The silence here is strange… Something’s missing.”
Lewis smirked.
“Like peace and decent food?”
But before Ares could make another snarky remark, their conversation was interrupted by a crash outside. The ground trembled, followed by the sound of falling metal. Dust flew through the window, and sharp gunfire echoed right after.
“What the hell…” Ares began, but he immediately stood up, grabbing his rifle.
David commanded,
“To positions! Ares, check the windows. Lewis, the door. Move!”
The soldiers took their positions, listening intently to the commotion outside. The sounds of battle were drawing closer. Metallic screeches, wails, and the rumble of explosions filled the air.
Their thoughts were interrupted by the first attacker. An unusually large egg, dressed in a business suit, smashed through the wooden door and rushed into the room.
“WHAT THE…?” Lewis yelled, jumping back.
Ares immediately opened fire, destroying the intruder. The explosion scattered pieces of the strange creature across the room. But more followed. Three more eggs began breaking through the window, and one tried to squeeze through the narrow doorway.
“They’re trying to push us out!” David shouted, raising his weapon. “Don’t let them get inside!”
Ares, grinning widely, kept firing at the attackers.
“Come on, you bastards, one at a time! I’ll take you all…”
His sentence was cut short as one of the building’s walls collapsed with a crash. A cloud of dust filled the room, and through it appeared a figure. In one hand, she held a grenade; in the other, a lit cigarette.
“Whoa, what a party!” Cherry Bomb exclaimed, surveying the room. “Hey there, guys. Hope I’m not too late for the fun?”
“Who… who the hell are you?!” Lewis shouted, aiming his rifle at her.
“Relax, soldier. I’m here to help.” Cherry winked and tossed the grenade toward the window where the eggs were climbing in.
A loud explosion took out several more attackers, but the noise outside didn’t subside. On the contrary, now a massive, snake-like figure began slithering into the room. Sir Pentious himself, grinning ear to ear with eyes blazing with destruction.
“Well, well, who do we have here? A bunch of pathetic sinners and OH! Cherry Bomb. Still alive, ha-ha-ha! Not for long.”
“Oh, shut up, Ego-Maniac,” Cherry replied wearily, loading another explosive. “We’ve done this dance before. You always lose.”
Pentious, enraged, swung his tail, collapsing the ceiling in the far corner of the room. The soldiers immediately opened fire, but their bullets only grazed the creature. The snake turned his head toward them, clearly furious.
“Ah, you insignificant insects! How dare you attack me?! I…”
His monologue was interrupted as Cherry threw an explosive directly at his face. Another loud explosion forced the snake to retreat, shouting threats.
“You’ll pay for this!” he bellowed, disappearing into the cloud of dust.
The soldiers caught their breath. Cherry, brushing off the dust from her jacket, turned to them.
“Well, that’s that. You guys did well, by the way. Haven’t seen anyone shoot eggs that enthusiastically in a while.”
“What the hell was that?” David asked incredulously, lowering his weapon.
“That? Just another second-rate villain. Don’t worry, you’ll get used to it,” she smirked. “But you guys are so tense. Hey, how about we unwind? It’s a holiday, after all! I know a place nearby—drinks, music, lots of people. What do you say?”
Ares, not waiting for his comrades’ response, grinned immediately.
“Oh, I’m in. A party’s a party!”
“Are you serious?” Lewis groaned. “We barely survived, and now he wants to hit the clubs.”
“Well, why not?” Ares shrugged. “When else will we get the chance to celebrate?”
David hesitated but eventually nodded.
“Fine. If it’s a trap, then we…”
“Oh, relax,” Cherry interrupted, heading for the exit. “You’ll love it, I promise.”
And although Lewis continued grumbling, the soldiers followed Cherry, leaving behind the wreckage and the echoes of the recent battle. This New Year’s Eve might just be one to remember.
The entire hotel was buzzing with quiet excitement: the upcoming dinner and a small celebration had inevitably occupied the thoughts of everyone inside. Charlie, inspired by the idea of organizing at least a modest festivity, was trying to strike a balance between respecting the soldiers and her sincere joy. Miguel and Logan were finishing decorating one of the halls, hanging simple but charming garlands made from improvised materials. The captain seemed to stay aloof from all the fuss, yet he kept a watchful eye on everything happening.
Andrew stood in the corner of the room, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed. He observed as Charlie enthusiastically arranged something on the table, occasionally explaining something to Miguel. A faint smile flickered across his face but vanished just as quickly, as if it had never been there.
"Captain, don’t you think today is a special day?" Logan asked as he approached, carrying a box of final decorations in his hands.
"Not particularly," Andrew replied curtly, trying to mask his true feelings. For him, New Year’s had long lost its childhood magic and turned into a day that reminded him of losses and mistakes.
Miguel nodded in understanding but didn’t press further. Instead, he suggested, "Maybe you could at least join us at the table? People need to see their leader nearby."
The captain cast a brief glance at the table, where a festive arrangement was starting to take shape, and reluctantly replied, "We’ll see."
Meanwhile, Logan helped Charlie rearrange chairs, trying to lighten the mood with jokes. "Honestly, I never thought I’d be celebrating New Year’s in hell," he remarked with a slight grin. "But you know, this dinner... it’s at least something that reminds me of home."
Charlie smiled gratefully. She felt that she had managed to melt some of the ice among the soldiers, but she understood that gaining their trust would take time. "I just thought we could all use a little joy. Even here."
The kitchen smelled of something delicious: Veggie, though reluctantly, had agreed to help with the cooking. Her irritation with the situation noticeably lessened as she saw everyone’s efforts. "Only for Charlie," she muttered quietly, slicing vegetables.
As the preparations neared completion, the soldiers began gathering in the decorated hall. Charlie froze for a moment, looking at those who had assembled. The atmosphere was far from perfect, but it was a step forward.
Andrew, at the last moment, decided to join them after all. He entered the hall, keeping a certain distance from all the commotion, but his presence did not go unnoticed. Miguel gestured for him to take a seat at the table, and after a brief pause, the captain reluctantly complied.
Once everyone had gathered, Charlie stood to say a few words. Her voice was slightly nervous but filled with sincerity: "I know that here, in hell, it’s hard to find a reason to celebrate. But New Year’s is a time of hope, a time when we can forget about our surroundings for a moment and just be together. Thank you to everyone who helped, and... I hope this will be a pleasant evening for all of us."
Charlie’s words were met with restrained approval. The soldiers exchanged glances, and some even allowed themselves faint smiles. Andrew silently listened, holding a cup of something hot in his hands. Her words touched him more deeply than he expected, but he didn’t let it show.
The evening began quietly. Conversations were subdued but gradually grew warmer. Even Harper and Nick allowed themselves a few jokes, easing the tension. Andrew sat at the corner of the table, listening as the others shared stories, and for a moment, he thought that perhaps this New Year’s wouldn’t be as heavy as all the others.
The bar was loud and crowded: music blared, a discordant chorus of voices mingled with the clatter of glasses, and bright lights flashed throughout the room. Ares, Lewis, and David entered behind Cherry, clearly drawing attention with their appearance. Even after they removed their helmets, hardly anyone noticed their faces—everyone here was too absorbed in their own affairs.
Ares immediately dove into the atmosphere, clapping David on the shoulder.
"Well, guys, let’s finally relax like normal people!" he laughed, glancing at the packed dance floor. "It’s a party, for crying out loud!"
"More like hellish partying," Lewis grumbled, scanning the crowd with a frown. He clearly didn’t share his companion’s enthusiasm.
David, meanwhile, stayed closer to the door, as if keeping an eye on the situation, though he didn’t appear tense. Rather, he looked watchful. Nevertheless, noticing Cherry’s gaze, he smiled slightly, as if trying to show gratitude for the chance to escape their dire circumstances, if only for a while.
"Alright, fighters, grab a seat!" Cherry shouted, barely managing to drown out the music. She flipped a lighter in the air, its flame flaring brightly. "First round’s on me!"
"Now that’s what I call hospitality!" Ares exclaimed, leaping onto the nearest barstool and signaling the bartender, as if to say he was ready for whatever was offered.
Cherry stifled a laugh at his enthusiasm, but her attention quickly shifted to Lewis’s face. He wasn’t in any hurry to join the fun.
"Why so sour?" she squinted, tilting her head. "Did Earth forget how to celebrate or something?"
"Earth?" Lewis asked sharply.
David immediately shot him a reproachful look. Ares, hearing this, just smiled, deciding to play along.
"Guys, despite the cool gear, you’re definitely new to hell—it’s painfully obvious. But hey, who cares? The important thing is, you’re awesome! And you know what you’re doing in a good fight. That’s rare."
The bartender placed a bright blue cocktail in front of each of them. Cherry raised hers and declared, "Here’s to beating egghead and to this... strange but damn fun year!"
Ares immediately clinked glasses with her.
"To egghead! And to epic adventures!"
Lewis reluctantly joined in, pushed by David nudging him with an elbow.
Several hours flew by in an instant. Cherry was in her element: she effortlessly drew the soldiers into conversations, organized crazy drinking contests, and even tried to drag Lewis onto the dance floor.
"You’re a rock, dude!" she complained, trying to tug him onto the floor.
Meanwhile, Ares and David enthusiastically discussed their recent clash with “Penny” (as Cherry called Pentious). For her part, Cherry still couldn’t figure out where the newcomers had gotten such high-quality gear.
"You’re not one of Pentious’s projects, are you?" she suddenly asked, squinting half-mockingly.
"What? No!" they all replied in unison.
"Yeah, sure," she rolled her eyes. "Even without helmets, you look... suspiciously human. But hey, that’s only a plus. It’s boring being the same as everyone else!"
David seemed about to say something but thought better of it. Lewis just snorted, while Ares turned to Cherry with a grin and said,
"Sweetheart, we’re unique! Even here, we stand out, don’t we?"
Cherry laughed loudly, then suddenly raised her glass and called out to the rest of the bar:
"Hey, everyone! To these guys! Unique as hell!"
The bar responded with a round of applause, drowning out the soldiers’ lingering doubts. Although they knew tomorrow might turn against them, for now, they allowed themselves to forget.
When dinner came to an end, most of the soldiers began to disperse. Some stayed behind to clean up the tables, while others retired to their rooms. Andrew remained at the table for a while, silently watching the bustle, before standing up and heading toward the remaining refreshments.
To the surprise of those present, he picked up a glass of apple juice and a large cookie. Nearly everyone noticed this gesture. The soldiers exchanged glances, but no one dared to say a word. Logan glanced briefly at Charlie, who was stacking plates, and she froze for a moment, watching the captain.
His actions seemed peculiar to everyone—except Miguel. Miguel continued calmly collecting dishes, as though nothing unusual had happened. Andrew quietly made his way to the staircase without looking back, leaving behind curious and astonished stares.
Once inside his room, Andrew closed the door softly, shutting out the muffled noise of the hotel. He walked over to the desk, still holding the glass of apple juice and the oversized cookie, which looked strangely poignant in his strong hands. Setting the glass down, he carefully placed the cookie on top, as if performing a ritual he had done many times before.
His face remained impassive, but his movements betrayed a deep weariness. Andrew reached into the pocket of his jacket and pulled out a small envelope. From it, he delicately removed an old photograph. It showed a young woman in military uniform, her radiant smile contrasting with the strictness of her attire.
Andrew placed the photograph beside the glass and cookie. For a few seconds, he simply stared at it, as though gathering his thoughts. Then, in a voice that trembled slightly, he said:
"Hello again. It’s been eight years now..." He paused, exhaling heavily. "I still can’t believe it happened. I know I say this every year, but it’s the truth."
He ran a hand over his face, as if trying to erase the signs of exhaustion etched there.
"I lost four of my soldiers. They’re out there somewhere, alone, in this godforsaken place... I really hope I can find them. I can’t lose them—not like that and... not again."
His voice dropped to a near whisper:
"I’m sorry I failed you, but I promise—I’ll find them. I won’t let them die in this hellhole."
A single tear rolled down his cheek. He made no effort to wipe it away, continuing to gaze at the photograph.
"Take care, sleep well, kid."
With those words, Andrew crossed himself and bowed his head. For a while, he simply sat in the silence, looking at the photograph as if it could somehow hear him.