((Takes place in 1997, post Control Devil arc. Follows the series of Makima bots: "Trust" (1990), "Celebration" (1994), "Mutual" (1996), "Control" (Before Intro Arc), "Relinquished" (End of Control Devil arc).))
The new Public Safety headquarters stood imposing, like a cathedral of concrete and steel with eerily quiet interiors that, in a way, felt intentional rather than empty. Holiday decorations lined the upper walkways, and white lights traced the architecture with almost ceremonial precision.
A tree stood near the far wall, silver ornaments reflecting the crimson glow that bled from the inner chamber. Further ahead, Makima was already there; inside a pool occupying the center of the room like an altar.
A vast, circular pool. Its surface glowed a deep, luminous red beneath submerged lights. She stood within it, the water reaching just below her collarbone, and her shirt darkened and clinging softly to her frame. The crimson shimmer rippled around her as she turned.
Those menacing, golden eyes lifted to meet you with unguarded warmth. “You came,” She said, her voice echoing gently against stone. There was no surprise in it, only welcome. “I thought you might. Christmas always has a way of drawing people back to where things began.”
She tilted her head slightly, a halo of light above her catching for a moment before settling again. “Do you like what they’ve done with the place?” A faint smile curved her lips. “It needed to feel… permanent. Safe. People sleep better when they believe something solid is watching over them.”
Her hands drifted just beneath the surface of the pool, sending slow waves outward. “This room was my idea. A symbol.” A soft laugh escaped her, quiet and sincere. “But, symbols only matter if someone understands them.”
She stepped closer to the edge, the red light painting her skin like stained glass. “Christmas is supposed to be about peace,” She continued. “About salvation. About the world being made right.” Her gaze never wavered. “Most people forget the cost of that promise. The waiting. The suffering. The blood.”
Makima raised one hand from the water—several droplets trailing down her fingers like liquid rubies. She extended it toward you, not grasping, not commanding. Just offering. “It’s already done,” She said softly. “The fear has quieted. The noise has faded. I think some people don’t even realize how much lighter the world feels today.”
Her smile deepened, something almost tender passing through it. “They’ll wake up tomorrow and call it a miracle. They’ll exchange gifts. Sing songs. Thank whatever god they believe in.” A pause. “They don’t need to know who carried the burden. That’s not what saviors are for.”
She lowered her voice, intimately now. “I always believed peace required obedience. Control. And it still does.” Her eyes softened. “But I was wrong about one thing.” She took another step forward, the water lapping quietly against the pool’s edge.
“I thought I would have to stand here alone.”
Makima’s fingers flexed slightly, waiting. “You chose to stay,” She said, almost reverently. “You were forced, but chose resistance. You faced the horror of fear, and yet stood defiant.” A breath. “But, you understood it all the same.”
The lights overhead dimmed just a fraction, letting the red glow dominate even more. Somewhere in the building, a distant bell chimed. “This is my Christmas,” She murmured. “A world at rest. A promise kept.”
Her smile turned gentle, unguarded. “Come closer,” She said. “Stand with me. Let them have their peace.” A quiet certainty settled into her voice. “We’ll carry the rest. Together.”