Chapter Text
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Meursault opened his eyes. His bedroom is completely dark, and he is—was supposed to be—alone, yet there are suspicious sounds that had caused him to abruptly wake. He looked to his right, to where his alarm clock was. Through its hazy, dim green light, he is informed that it is currently 1:27 am in the morning.
The reason for his sudden awakening was known, but the exact cause of it remains unidentified at the present.
Thump, thump, thump. The loud, thumping sounds that continue to echo from the inside of his house seems to be that of a person's footsteps, which means someone had trespassed his home. Therefore, if he wanted to go back to sleep, he must deal with this intruder immediately.
Meursault silently folded up his blanket and sat up. After a few minutes of blinking his eyes and making sure he was decently awake, he went over to his bedstand to equip his pair of Liu-assigned gauntlets. Once they were strapped properly to his fists, he quickly stepped out of his bedroom, all in one, efficient flow.
The fact that he is still wearing his pajamas is not a deterrent to his march.
While on the way, Meursault idly wondered why an intruder would enter his home in the first place. He is currently only a Section 6 Fixer, after all, and not even its director. Although he has some valuables and money hidden in his safe, he does not think they are worth that much for his place to be intruded. He lives in the Nest, also, so these kinds of things shouldn't even happen in the first place.
Perhaps the intruder perceived him as easy prey? If that is the case, he must teach them a lesson as to not easily underestimate others.
Following the sources of the sound, he soon finds himself standing at the entrance of his living room. Meursault had paid a decent amount of money to install metal barriers that would seal shut every time he goes to sleep to ensure nothing could get in or out, and this also includes light. That is why, in the darkness of the early morning, the room was almost pitch black, and he could barely see the outlines of his own furniture.
This is normal. What is abnormal is how an intruder still managed to get in, despite all of that. Meursault considered changing to a different Office's security system when he had the time in the future.
A quick scan around shows that nothing seems majorly out of place, however there is the vague silhouette of an unidentified person that seems to be moving in front of his fireplace, which is directly opposite from where he was.
Through this simple observation, Meursault could quickly conclude that this intruder might not have entered from his sealed up windows or his door, but through his… chimney? How strange. He had to admit he had not properly sealed it off, but he had never thought that he would one day meet an intruder dedicated enough to get inside his house by entering through the dark and filthy passage. An additional fact to reconsider later on.
Next, he proceeded to observe the intruder themselves. Through the shadow's height and vague body shape, as well as the sounds of footsteps and quiet mumbling—or cursing—that the figure had uttered, Meursault deduced that this intruder should be a young male, somewhere around his age. It does not seem like the intruder was aware of his arrival yet, so he can loosely determine that the intruder does not seem to have the ability nor the special equipment needed to be able to see well in the dark, so they should be as equally blind as he is. That is good, as that means he does not need to be wary of surprise attacks from the shadows.
However, fighting in the darkness is still unpreferable, as it would give him the disadvantage of being unable to clearly determine the location of his opponent. Therefore, he decided to take the next course of action that would increase the probability of eliminating this intruder.
With a swing of his fists, a fierce slash of blazing waves shot out from his gauntlets. The intruder seems to have sensed his attack and swiftly dodged the flames, but that was not Meursault's main intention, as he was aiming for the fireplace.
"Bloody hell! Watch where you're aiming!" Meursault heard the intruder curse.
The flames hit the wooden logs straight on, and a huge dance of flames spontaneously bursted alive, quickly illuminating the whole living room.
His director had once told him that fires of Liu do not strike in shadows and surprise, but must strike bravely and fearlessly. Therefore, as a Liu Fixer, he must follow that principle. That is why he judged that this was the best setting for himself in this situation. Now, it was bright enough for Meursault to see his opponent, even though it would also allow the opponent to see himself, as well.
Meursault saw that the intruder was a man with dark skin and brown hair. He was carrying a suspiciously large, brown sack behind his back. The bottom of the sack was tainted with bloody handprints, while also leaking a dark, thick substance on his wooden floor. In addition, from the shapes that stuck out from the sack, there is reason to suspect that it was filled with human body parts.
However, rather than the bloody sack, Meursault was slightly more disturbed by the eye-straining outfit that the man was wearing.
A sweater made of patchwork flashy and vibrant white, green, and red colors, as well as a matching green hat on top of his head.
If he had to be honest, that is the ugliest sweater Meursault had ever seen.
Nevertheless, Meursault quickly concluded all of these observations in the span of mere seconds. Now that he has basic knowledge of the intruder, he was ready to engage in a fight. He raised his fists, preparing for combat.
However, the intruder did not seem to have the same intention. Instead, he was gaping at the flames that burned the fireplace, as if completely dumbfounded, and only now did he turn back to look at Meursault with an accusatory look.
The intruder scowled, "You wanker, you burned my way out! Don't ya know that I have to go out of the window later because of this? And- Fuck! You even sealed that off, you nutjob!"
What a strange intruder. How is he still talking about leaving this place when he had so plainly trespassed Meursault's home, and got caught in the act? Did he not think that Meursault would not let him escape?
Also, Meursault's brain idly commented, could he not just go out—as well as go in, in the first place—through the door like a normal person?
Alas, Meursault quickly shook his thoughts away and asserted, "That is irrelevant, as l have no intention of letting you leave after you have trespassed my house."
The intruder laughed mockingly at that, raising the bloody sack on his shoulder threateningly, "Yeah, talk all you want. After I'm done beating the shite out of you like how you beat up your daughter, I'm gonna cut you up and use your body parts to make presents for all the little children across the damn City."
Honestly, Meursault had never faced an intruder as strange as this man. Not only did he presumably enter through the dirty chimney like a madman while wearing a mind-boggling outfit unfit for an intruder, he is now accusing Meursault of false information.
Though he should not engage further commentary with the criminal in front of him, Meursault felt like he had a need to clarify to the intruder due to how absurd the whole thing was, so he said, "I do not understand your intentions for trespassing my home, nor the reason you accuse me with baseless accusations."
Surprisingly, the intruder gave him a confused look, "Huh? Aren't ya Mr.Richards?"
Meursault shook his head, "No. My name is Meursault. The man you speak of is my neighbor, from the house numbered 29. The house you are currently at is mine, numbered 28."
"Ooh, I knew it! No wonder you looked nothing like what's on the list," The intruder laughed as he slapped his forehead, then took out an old, yellowed list from his pants. Strangely, Meursault saw that the texture of the list was too different from regular paper. He was slightly disturbed to find that he could not immediately identify the base material made for that list.
Nevertheless, the intruder soon clicked his tongue when he realized his 'mistake', drawing Meursault back to the present.
"Yeah. Sorry, mate, seems like I was supposed to go to the house next door-" Oh. Meursault realized now. That list is made of dried human skin. Ignoring Meursault's growing wariness, the intruder continued to talk, "-look, this whole thing was just a big misunderstanding, ‘innit? So can't ya just do me a favor and pretend nothing ever happened? Also put out this damn fire on the fireplace while you're at it, won't you?" The intruder asked as he gestured at the still-lit fireplace behind him.
Meursault was silent for a bit, completely dumbfounded by the audacity of an intruder shamelessly asking to leave after trespassing his home and threatening to kill him, even though he said that it was all a 'mistake'. Thus, he shook his head again with a tired sigh, as he tried to explain some common sense to this intruder, "I cannot allow you to do that, because not only have you committed a crime by trespassing, I also have high suspicions that you are a criminal judging from your appearance and the items you carry. Therefore, the most logical action I should do now is to apprehend you first."
"Oh, come on!" The intruder waved his arms in complaint, "Don't you know the story about Christmas?"
Meursault said, rather expressionlessly, "I have never heard of such a term."
"Wait, you really don't?" At Meursault's continued shaking of his head, the intruder cocked his head, "Huh. Thought everyone and their mothers knew about it. Right on! Let me tell you about it, then."
Although Meursault wasn't interested in hearing it at first, the intruder had already begun to ramble about a strange fairytale about Christmas, which was apparently a traditional event celebrated on a specific date each year, where a mythical entity known as 'Santata' would go around in his sleigh of reindeers—among them a reindeer with a red nose called 'Rudolta'—to deliver presents for both good and bad children. He does this by going down the chimney and traditionally leaves these presents under a Christmas tree, but the intruder understands that not every home has it, especially those in the Backstreets, so usually he'd just leave them near the chimneys or windows at the very least.
Meursault was quite dumbfounded by the whole story, especially about the part where Santata enters through the chimneys. Does this imply that this entity has to crawl in and out through the dirty chimneys for every child he visits? That seems highly inefficient and particularly uncomfortable.
Of course, there is also the bloody sack and the human skin list that the intruder had also carried with him. Are these truly appropriate equipment for a person who would deliver gifts to children? It does not seem too kid-friendly, in his opinion.
Even though Meursault could not voice his complaints about the illogical fallacies of this story because the whole tale is just that absurd, he still asked out of curiosity, "Then what role do you play?"
The intruder proudly patted his chest, "I'm one of Santata's helpers, a gift giver! Oh, and the name's Heathcliff. My mates and I helped Santata deliver the presents, since, y'know," The intruder, Heathcliff, gestured with his hands, "We have a tight deadline and all."
Ah, yes. Heathcliff had also mentioned that all gifts must be delivered at the eve of a child's wake, lest a present shall be missed among them. However, this also indirectly implies that there are more than one helpers like Heathcliff roaming around the City at this time. Meursault could feel a headache coming on as to how he will have to explain this sudden intrusion later at work.
Heathcliff didn't seem to realize this, though, and continued to ask, "So, you gonna let me out or not?"
Meursault shook his head, "Your activities are still highly suspicious, therefore despite your absurd tale, I would still have to apprehend you."
Heathcliff scowled, "Blimey, you're not making my job any easier, huh? I really don't wanna beat up innocent people during Christmas, though, so-" Heathcliff's eyes suddenly lit up, "-Oh! I know! What if I gave you a present? Will you let me go, then?"
Meursault had no idea what kind of present could come out of a bloody sack presumably filled with human body parts, and he wasn’t keen on finding out, therefore he tried to reject him warily, "I do not need any of your gifts, thank you."
But Heathcliff insisted, "Oh come on, don't be shy! See, this sack can give you anything you want, like this,-" Heathcliff suddenly plunged his hand into the sack, strangely digging further than its visible depth, then suddenly pulled out a watch from his sack, "-see?"
Although the watch did look expensive and valuable, Meursault noticed there was a bit of dried blood on its handle.
Perceiving Meursault's silence as dissatisfaction, Heathcliff stuffed his hand back in and proceeded to pull out a myriad of other things from his sack, like an elegant leather wallet, a brand new jacket, and he even pulled out a pair of Liu gauntlets that looked exactly the same as the one Meursault was wearing, but in better condition. Each of them, Meursault noticed, had a bit of dried blood somewhere on its edges and corners. Meursault does not wish to think about the implications that comes with that fact.
But one thing he can confirm now is that the sack is highly likely to have the ability to procure gifts from body parts. That way, it does make sense that they were known as gift givers, despite the brutal method they have to do to obtain it.
Seeing that Meursault was now eyeing his bag, Heathcliff seems to have misunderstood his gaze as interest, so he tried to convince him again, "Come on, just tell me what you want. It's a shame I didn't get ya on the list, mate, since then I'd be able to know and give it to you directly."
Considering how that list also includes the name of a man that Heathcliff previously stated he had wanted to cut up to create more gifts, Meursault would rather not have his name in there.
Besides, "I could not tell you that, because I do not have any desires for a gift."
"Really?" Heathcliff tilted his head, "None at all?"
"Non."
"Hmm- Oh!" Heathcliff's eyes lit up again with a new idea in a way that Meursault had now associated with trouble, "It's easy, then! If you don't have any desires, then I'll just have to give you one, innit?"
Meursault could not comprehend what in the City Heathcliff could possibly meant by that, but before he could react, Heathcliff had already strided towards him and proceeded to-
-kiss him.
This was surely the one thing that caught Meursault most off guard out of this whole absurd encounter.
His logic told him to push this man away, to apprehend him, to do anything he can to stop this shameless act, however, feeling Heathcliff's lips pressing against his own, as well as the feel of his body trying to get as close to him as possible, it had unexpectedly awakened a deep, fiery passion within his body that he himself was not aware had ever existed until the present.
He knows very well that he should not engage further contact with this suspected criminal. At the very least, he should have pushed him away, but for whatever reason he could not fathom, he instead pulled Heathcliff closer.
He had no idea what he was feeling, but he didn't want it to stop.
Therefore, in perhaps the worst decision he had ever made in his life, and will definitely regret later on, Meursault wrapped his arms around Heathcliff's waist and pulled him closer. As if in approval, Heathcliff actively wrapped his arms around Meursault's neck in response, pulling his head deeper into their kiss.
They continued to exchange pleasures and passion. Meursault's hands had begun to roam around Heathcliff's body, pushing up his ugly sweater and touching wherever he was able to. Heathcliff let him do as he wanted, only insisting on kissing him, biting his tongue and lips, only momentarily letting go to breathe or to gasp when Meursault's heated gauntlets touched a sensitive area.
However, to Meursault's dismay, they eventually had to let go of each other. They saw each other's flustered faces, full of heat and desire for each other. From Meursault's viewpoint, Heathcliff looked like he was intoxicated with lust. His cheeks were warm and red, his mouth was partly open as faint mists of breath escaped him, and his eyes were half-lidded, slightly hazy. When they separated, there was a thin line of saliva barely connecting them both, and despite Heathcliff wearing the most unappealing sweater Meursault had ever seen, Meursault continued to surprise himself by suddenly realizing that he had a deep desire to ravage him whole.
Meursault's logical brain had mostly shut down by now. Perhaps, when he gets some sleep and properly wakes up later on, he would be able to blame it on the lack of sleep.
"Was that-" Heathcliff took a second to calm himself, taking a short breath, "-good enough for you?"
Meursault shook his head, "You have awakened something within me that I was previously not aware of. Therefore, I intend to keep you here longer until I have fully explored this desire."
The little miscreant had the audacity to laugh, his eyes forming beautiful crescents, "That's what you think, 'innit? Hah! Well, that's a shame, mate, 'cause you'll have to wait a whole year to get more than that."
Before Meursault could ask Heathcliff what he meant, the gift giver suddenly reached behind him, grabbed his bloody sack, and swung it at Meursault with all of his might, all in the span of mere seconds, so fast that Meursault was unable to react quickly.
This completely surprised Meursault, who had—rather unfortunately—let his guard down during their heated exchange. He only had enough time to lift his fists up to defend, but he didn't expect the bloody sack to be so heavy, so instead, he was harshly thrown to the side of the room from the hit, leaving deep cracks on the wall.
With his combat instincts quickly returned, Meursault instantly recovered. Unfortunately, Heathcliff was a lot faster than him, and had already ran back to the chimney with his sack.
Since Meursault was quite a bit distracted before, the flames in the fireplace were unable to be maintained, and it had wavered to less than a third of its previous height. Heathcliff simply just needed to whack the flames out of the way with his sack, and the now ashen, fireless opening allowed him to climb the chimney back up.
By the time Meursault caught up to the fireplace and looked up, the chimney was already empty, with no traces of anyone climbing up at it at all.
Like everything before was just an absurd dream.
Meursault sighed. He almost felt ashamed for letting himself be too intoxicated by pleasure that he'd let a suspicious individual like Heathcliff take advantage of it to leave so easily.
He faintly touched his lips. Now the only proof he has of Heathcliff's intrusion was the lingering warmth of that man on his mouth, and the heat of his body on his gauntlets.
Wait a second. Meursault re-lit the fire in the fireplace, then turned back to view his living room.
No, he was wrong. There was also dried blood on his floor, as well as his now visibly cracked wall. They were proof of his failure to apprehend the criminal, as well as damages that he would need to spend money on to clean afterwards.
With his rationale rather quickly recovered, Meursault estimated that approximately forty-four minutes had passed since he woke up, and therefore at a time of 2:11 am, he judged that it was still too early to deal with all of this mess.
Therefore, Meursault did the next most logical course of action. He walked back to his bedroom and went right back to sleep.
Later that morning, as Meursault was reading the morning news at his kitchen table, he saw an article accounting a statement from a young girl called Melinda, whose abusive father was killed by an unidentified, giant, blunt object.
Normally, this kind of news wouldn't even reach the front headlines, but what makes it interesting is how Melinda keeps insisting that a man with white, green, and red patchwork outfit was the one who did it, calling himself 'Santata's helper', and saying that this was a gift for Melinda for being a good girl.
He also gave her a cute brown teddy bear. Unfortunately, from the still picture alone, Meursault was unable to determine if there were blood patches on it too or not.
The article was also followed by several other testimonies of other survivors who all had generally the same kind of experience last night, of men and women alike sneaking into their homes from their chimneys or windows, killing their abusive families, then leaving them a gift from where they came from.
Curiously, all of the witnesses recorded in the article were minors.
Meursault snapped the newspaper shut and began cleaning his table and breakfast. He had time to think about that later.
As he passed by his living room, intending to leave for work, Meursault idly looked at the chimney. That was when he noticed that a letter was left on the floor, right in front of where the fireplace is.
Meursault decided to pick it up and open it. The material was very similar to human skin, just as he thought. It is likely that the same texture was present in Heathcliff's list.
Regarding the content of the letter itself?
Written in messy, unfamiliar handwriting, while also being stained by dirty blotches that Meursault could only assume was dried blood, it reads:
"Merry Christmas, asshole. See you next year."
A corner of Meursault's lips involuntarily lifted. He cannot help but look forward to the next celebration of Christmas.
