-I have been assigned here since October. It is December now, the 25th of 2038 to be exact. I know you are probably at the tree opening gifts with the Group.

I just hope you are having a warm Christmas at Base. We are in unheated holes out in the woods waiting for orders.

Merry Christmas, and I love you.

Love

Sargent, Mathews.-

"Hey Mathews, can you pass a light?" Asked Smokes with an unlit cigar in his mouth between his teeth. Smokes was a young looking lad, with his Protectors Squad uniform almost looking brand new. He had dark brown eyes light pale skin and light brown hair. His face looked as though he was an indoor child, never seen any work. A baby face.

"You two. Merry Christmas." Said Ruff, a tall older man who by far does not have a baby face. A couple grey hairs, and a few wrinkles. He threw us both two warm beers, and we cracked them open the second we got them.

Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!

"To going home." I said taking a drink.

"To getting rid of all these damn Trackers and Shadows." Cheered Smokes. We both put our beers to our lips, but the second we did I saw Smokes's head get shot through the bottle. Sitting there not believing that my friend was just killed right in front of me. Watching his body fall down into the snow dyed with his blood.

"Trackers! Everybody take cover!"

Trackers are a group of humans and Travelers who track down Protectors and Dimensional Beings like me. Smokes was just a human, but he fought for my kind for years.

As fast as I could I Ported my self out of the Foxhole behind a wall. Off in the distance were I was, a Tracker began inspecting Smokes's body. As he was distracted I Ported my self back behind the Tracker, put my fingers on his temples and blasted him with Dimensional Energy. His hair began to turn bright white, skin the color as pail as the snow, and eyes began to turn grey and bleed. Then his body fell to the ground.