"GET THE FUCK OUT THERE YOU ASSHOLES!" Mason's voice boomed across the rocky beach that lined Lake Michigan. They had placed scouts in the areas surrounding his mansion and only the ones by the water hadn't reported back. Mason had ordered General Tom to take the army there and they had arrived in ranks that almost looked like they had been practicing. Each squad was led by a squad leader, with Doug the Fire Fister running command on half the squads, Tom running command on the other half.

Doug hated that the name had stuck, but one thing you learned in the military - or even in the militia - was that your first nickname stuck. The embarrassment of the name was mitigated by the respect his squads had for him. They only called him that to his face, and only when joking. If anyone had called him that behind his back they would have been taught a prompt lesson by anyone within earshot. In this army, where cruelty and power were prized, Doug brought something that was cherished: kindness. He led from the front, was smart with how he arrayed his teams, and never sought personal glory at the expense of his men. It was this leadership that had his platoon arriving first and looking the most prepared.

In Mason's army a squad was 25 men, each led by a squad leader. A platoon was five squads, each led by the most powerful fighters. The four platoons were commanded by General Tom for a total of 500 soldiers and their associated leaders. Mason called the shots, but it was General Tom who gave the real orders - and he left the execution of the orders to the platoon leaders. The main job of the squad leaders was to keep their people alive or push for victory, whichever was most likely to get the job done.

Mason's Lieutenants and the enchantresses were Mason's personal bodyguards and elite hit squad and they did nothing beyond what Mason commanded. They looked on with dead eyes and emotionless faces as the first of the squads leapt onto the frozen surface of the lake.

The lake had been iced over thick enough to support any number of vehicles, much less the men who were running across it in phalanx formations. The squads split up just far enough to not catch each other with friendly fire, but not so far as to leave themselves exposed and surrounded.

"Halt!" General Tom's voice rang across the ice, Commanding Order allowing his voice to be heard by anyone in his army. "Formation One! Prepare to engage the enemy!"

Phalanxes turned into two long rows as melee fighters stepped in front and projectile specialists and magic users slid behind them. Doug moved out in front of his line, not missing the fact that all the other platoon and squad leaders were behind their troops. Crows feet formed around his eyes as he smiled when each of his squad leaders stepped out to stand guard in front of their lines as well. Nodding once to them he turned to face forward, expression growing grim. They could see that something was coming, they just didn't know what. Whatever it was, it was swimming through the ice like it was water, breaking it into dangerous wakes of slush and shards behind them.

The sinuous patterns being weaved through the ice got closer, then closer still. A hush fell over the lake as the forms picked up speed for the last couple hundred feet. The sound of crackling ice carved into the will of the men and more than a few legs shook from more than the cold.

Doug's fists erupted in flames and he stepped into a boxer's pose just as the first form reached him.

There was an eruption of ice and suddenly a massive form that looked like an unholy union of an eel and a snake was flying through the air, its pure white and crystalline body reflecting the morning sunlight like a deadly disco ball. Fangs the size of fingers dripped icy blue liquid, and rows of serrated teeth lined a mouth stretched wide enough to swallow a man's head whole came flying at Doug. For a moment his heart stuttered and he almost took a step backwards, but he knew these first moments would set the tone of the rest of the battle. If he faltered his men would too, and that would mean more of them would die.

All eyes were on him as he stepped forward, a flaming uppercut shattering the snake in a cloud of ice that tinkled onto the surface of the lake. There was a split second of cheering and then icy hell broke loose.

Doug stepped back into the front line, his men opening his usual spot for him. Ice Serpents began shooting out of the lake in front of them, their three-foot bodies wriggling as they launched themselves through the air. Shields knocked some away, others were cleaved with swords or bashed with baseball bats and clubs, but the frenzy was too much, too fast. The frozen lake became a fireworks display of every color and sound as spells were launched, many catching the snakes in mid-air, but most missing.

The man next to Doug, Carl, Doug thought, was thrown backwards, blasting through the ranks behind him. The serpent had dug its fangs into Carl's chest, the heavy body sliding him across the ice with the power of its landing. Carl's screams carried across the ice as the serpent burrowed its way through his chest, out through his spine, and back into the water.

Carl was the first death of the day, but he would not be the last.

"Close ranks! Shield wall formation!" Doug's men responded instantly to his order, tall tower shields thumping down onto the ice. Swords and spears poked through the gaps in the shields and spellcasters flanked the formation, ready to work crowd control as the monsters approached.

The tactic worked, the serpents now swimming their way to the smaller target of the huddled group. Thumps began sounding against the shields and the entire formation was pushed back, sliding along the ice as more and more hissing bodies impacted them. Spells began firing from the flanks and the tinkling sounds of exploding serpents increased even as the pressure on the front lines decreased.

"Slash and stab!" The shields opened slightly at the order and the armed ranks stepped forward, each slashing or stabbing at a single enemy before stepping back. The shields slammed closed again just as the serpents regrouped. The shield wall pushed forward and separated again, the melee attackers repeating their attack. Doug could see the hopeful expressions on his men's faces and smiled, just before he felt water filling his boot.

He looked down and realized they'd pushed too far forward and were walking into the slush created by the serpents' wakes.

"Back! BACK!" His men stumbled as the front ranks tried to step backwards, only to be pushed forward by the back ranks. One of the shield men was pushed too hard from behind and he tripped, stumbling forward. His shield skittered across the ice and he looked up to see a dozen sets of fangs.

His screams were cut short as the first of the fangs plunged into him, the blue liquid pumping into his body. The squad watched in horror as his entire body turned to ice in front of them. Doug tore his eyes away from the sight and looked at his men - at the terror in their eyes. They're about to break!

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Panic surged in him. If they broke now they'd be fodder for the much faster serpents. He had to hold them together! He jumped forward, landing on the frozen man, Steven, and launching himself in the air. He prayed that the ice was thick enough as his entire body lit up in flames. He came down in the center of the mass of wriggling fangs and bodies, fire exploding around him like a miniature nuclear bomb. Dozens of serpentine bodies exploded in a beautiful cloud of the purest snow and ice, only to be burned away by the fireball that was Doug the Fire Fister.

The force of the fireball blew his men backwards in a tumble of bodies. The cloud cleared and Doug realized he was up to his waist in slush. He began scrambling for the edges of the hole he'd blown in the surface of the lake but his hands scrambled uselessly. He felt himself slipping and panic took root. Suddenly there was no thought, no strategy - just the instinctual urge to GET OUT. His scrambling became more frantic and he looked to his men for salvation, but all he saw was a jumble of bodies trying to get to their feet.

Oh wow, I think this is it. The thought was calm, even as his body was fighting a losing battle to climb to the surface. He felt his boots punch through the bottom of the ice and frigid water cascaded over his legs, numbing them almost instantly. With a last thought for his men Doug slipped under the surface of the water.

Doug was in a liminal space, pure white light above him, pure blackness below. He thought he could see massive shapes moving down there, but his attention was drawn to the surface. He scrabbled at the unyielding ice, a distant, logical part of his brain telling him that it was useless - there was no way he was digging through feet of ice. He felt currents pulling him away and he realized he couldn't even see where the hole he'd fallen through was. His scrabbling slowed, then stopped. His body was too numb to move and his vision was fading. As the cold claimed him and his eyes began to ice over he focused on the pinpoint of light that was the sun, so close and yet so far.

It's like having a view of heaven from a seat in hell…

A motorcycle tore across the expanse of ice, the sounds it made so much less like a Harley now and so much more like the sound of souls being ground between boulders. Jonas leaned low over the handlebars, one hand gripping the throttle and the other his chain. On the back of his bike Seraphina was casting Shadow Lash, the dark tendrils surrounding the bike like a Lovecraftian monster. Everywhere they struck a serpent exploded. Jonas saw what he was looking for and turned the bike in a neat spin, the tires refusing to slide even on this icy surface. His chain was in motion and struck the surface of the ice in a whirlwind of metal, carving a perfectly circular hole through the ice. Once it struck water he pulled it back then shot it forward, the links as alive as any serpent. It went taught and Jonas pulled, the mighty heave pulling an almost-dead, mostly-frozen Doug from the water. Then the bike was roaring again and Jonas flew across the lake, towing Doug behind him.

He came to a stop in front of Mason, Doug skidding to land at the big man's feet.

"Is he dead?"

Seraphina slid off the bike with the grace of a shadow, eyes glowing purple as she looked down at him. Her voice had all the sensuality of a perfectly dark room, soft and inviting, with the deadliness of something hiding in the corner. "Not yet, but soon."

"Jonas! Go bring me someone useless!"

Jonas nodded and was off, sweeping the back ranks of one of the squads. He was back moments later, a young man being towed behind him.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?"

Mason ignored the confused man. "Do it Seraphina."

The Enchantress smiled and stepped between the two prone men.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING? WHAT DID I DO? WHAT IS HAPPENING?"

"Shh, shh, shh…" Seraphina's voice was more dangerous than any serpent. She laid a gentle hand on his cheek, then the other on Doug. The unfortunate victim's mouth opened in a silent scream, the rictus of pain locking his entire body as his life energy flowed from him, through Seraphina, and into Doug. The Shadow Temptress concentrated as she cast Midnight Embrace, healing Doug by stealing the life essence of someone else.

It was done in less than a minute, Doug sitting up groggily and rubbing frost from his eyes. "What… what hap - where am I? I need to get to my men!" He tried to climb to his feet but Mason pushed him back down with a chuckle.

"You've done enough today, Fire Fister. You did good out there, real good. That was a bad ass move you pulled and you were willing to sacrifice yourself for me. You've earned yourself a rest."

"I - thank you, sir, that means a lot. But really, I need to get to my men."

"No, you need to sit." Mason's voice brooked no argument and Doug clamped down his protestations. "But I'll tell you what, I'll fill your spot. Rodrick!"

"Sir!" The massive man stepped forward. Doug had never seen him up close before and damned if he wasn't intimidating. He was almost as big as Mason, his massive arms covered in tattoos. The stories told late at night said that each tattoo was a trophy of someone he'd killed, and Doug could believe it.

"Get out there and take Doug's spot. They need someone bad ass to lead them. And don't go into the ice!" Mason laughed but Rodrick only nodded, his eyes gray and distant, face expressionless. Without another word he hefted his barbed-wire covered bat onto his shoulder. It had been augmented with extra weights and looked heavy enough to crack the ice if the man dropped it. Rodrick simply stepped onto his motorcycle and took off at a roar, moving to cover the gap left by Doug.

"They're coming from underneath us!" The yell came from a squad that had adopted the 'stab and slash' formation. Everyone looked in their direction just in time to see the entire squad disappear as the ice below them turned to slush. The entire squad fell into a mass of writhing white, the froth from the water turning red with their blood. There was a hushed moment before the bubbling stopped and perfect ice sculptures of men in immortal pain bobbed to the surface.

"Get to the shore!" The men needed no encouragement from General Tom's orders as they fled in a rush, the slowest failing to escape the serpents' bites, falling and shattering as their ice-sculpture bodies impacted the lake.

"Turn and face the enemy! Formation One!" The men lined up in ranks again as the serpents charged again.

The battle became an exercise in cleaning up the enemy then, the serpents being far less effective on the ground than they were in the ice. As the last of them fell the men stepped backwards with a communal sigh, patting each other on the backs and some even giving hugs. Many more just looked around, battle shock showing in their thousand-yard stares.

Mason slapped his thighs and laughed. "Holy shit that was fun! Wasn't that fun?" He slapped Blake on the back and the man returned it with an imitation of a smile, the real thing long since purged from his mind.

"General Tom!"

The general rushed over, breathless as he saluted. "Sir!"

"Get everyone back to the mansion. Tonight everyone gets all the beer they can drink. Oh, and give all the squad leaders a night in the harem!"

"Yes sir!" Tom jogged off, shouting orders.

As the men filed back Gabriel followed at a distance - but not too far, lest another serpent appear. He reflected on his gains, a bit disappointed that he'd barely gotten any experience. Men had died, sure, and he got trickles from that, but that bastard Mason probably got the lion's share of experience from it.

"I need to start having nightly sermons," he mumbled to himself as he pulled his trenchcoat tighter around his skinny form.

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