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December 1, 2010
Rebecca Costa-Brown watched her monitor as the various PRT site directors joined the secure teleconference. She noted the little signs of stress, unease, of calm that they demonstrated. It was obvious which of them took the subject of the call seriously and which didn’t. Once they all logged in, she spoke without preamble.
“In twenty days, the PRT and Protectorate, along with a variety of villain groups and rogues, will engage in a joint operation that will last ten days. We will be operating under a modified Endbringer Truce. Our counterparts in the UK, Europe, Australia, Russia, and the CIU will be engaging in similar operations. We have been in contact with certain individuals in Africa and South America who will be handling things as best they can in those regions. In short, this is a global effort and the importance of this mission is paramount.”
A few directors murmured at that. Getting cooperation from that many disparate parties, hell, even the Chinese Imperial Union , was unprecedented.
“Our mission will be to protect a single parahuman as he performs his self-assigned duties and to keep his corporeal existence obfuscated as much as possible. Despite being one of the most powerful parahumans on record, he is, as far as the Think Tank can determine, completely benevolent. We are fortunate in this as he is currently rated Mover 15, Thinker 10, Master 8, Stranger 10, Brute 6, and tentative ratings of Tinker 4 and Trump 7.”
More than one set of eyebrows raised in shock at that, but the directors remained silent as Rebecca continued.
“The reason this is the first that most of you have heard of this is that this parahuman’s existence and intended actions were not fully confirmed until earlier this morning, when literally the entire Think Tank reported, unanimously and clearly, that this would happen.
“The parahuman’s civilian identity, if he has one, is unknown, but his cape name is,” Rebecca allowed a very slight grimace to show on her face before completing the sentence, “Santa Claus.”
The video conference erupted into a cacophony of questions.
December 5, 2010
Brian saw Lisa come out of her room, having obviously just been talking with their boss, if the confused and slightly cross look on her face was anything to go by. For once, all four of the Undersiders were in the loft and with only minimal snarking from Alec or snappishness from Rachel.
Lisa took a deep breath, forced a smile, and clapped her hands together.
“So the boss has a job for us. It’s a little… weird, but should be easy money. Ten grand to each of us, plus a bonus if it goes off flawlessly.”
Alec sat up from where he had been draped across the couch. “Ten k? What’s the catch?”
“Well, we’d be working with the Protectorate–”
“Nuh-uh, no way,” said Brian.
“Let me finish. We’d be working with the Protectorate under a Truce to keep things quiet at the end of the year. We don’t pull any jobs or make any waves and help them keep the peace and they won’t arrest us. Basically being good guys for a little over a week. And Rachel? Supposedly Hookwolf isn’t going to run any dog fights then either, so no looking for trouble.”
Rachel growled quietly. “Yes he will. I’ll find him.”
Lisa sighed. “Just… if you find that he is, I think that’ll count towards the ‘keeping the peace’ bit, so let us know so we can help you . Hell, Beardmaster might even help out, too.”
Brian spoke, “So yeah, this is unusual, but why? We’re minor league smash-and-grab escape artists, not big players.”
Lisa grimaced. “Because apparently Santa Claus is coming to town.”
December 10, 2010
Missy grumped as she waited in line to sit on Santa’s lap at the mall. She really, really didn’t want to be here, but for once her parents had agreed that it’d be “cute” to get a picture of her with Santa. She was twelve, for Christ’s sake, not six! Besides, it felt weird, given what the end-of-year mission was.
Who knew that Santa Claus was real? Or at least that someone with Santa’s powers was, anyway. When the Wards had been told, she, Dennis, and Shadow Stalker of all people had laughed at the seeming joke. But no, they were supposed to be on their best behavior, being good boys and girls, so that Santa would bring them presents and they could hopefully catch him in the act.
Sometimes being a cape was so weird.
Ugh, it was her turn. Missy plastered a fake smile across her face as she sat in Santa’s lap for the photo.
“Ho ho ho! And what do you want for Christmas, little girl?”
She quietly told him through the strained smile, “No offense, but I just want this over with so my parents will stop bitching at each other.”
The mall Santa looked at her for a long moment, then replied, also quietly, “I’m sorry about whatever’s going on with your parents. The elf already got the photo so you can get going. Good luck and,” his voice rose, “Merry Christmas!”
Missy hopped off and very deliberately didn’t stomp over to where her mom and dad were arguing over who got to keep the Polaroid they’d received. She despaired at the not unusual spectacle they were making and walked away from them further into the mall while they kept bickering. Maybe she’d find something to give to Dean.
December 15, 2010
Sophia sat with Emma and Madison at lunch while they conspired. It had been disgusting, but over the last few days they had collected almost a trash bag full of used tampons and pads from the girls’ rooms, as well as some choice bits of food garbage from the school’s dumpster. It already smelled rank and she couldn’t wait to see the look on the dweeb’s face when they shoved her into it after winter break. Just two more days before they could finally plant the stuff.
Sophia felt momentarily cautious as she suddenly remembered that whole “good boys and girls” thing Armsaster and Piggot had told them about, but scoffed in her head. Even if there was something to it, and really, Santa Claus? , they’d be stashing the stuff before the operation went down and wouldn’t be pushing the weakling into it until after the new year. Plenty of leeway on either side.
At least she was going to have nearly free rein to take out criminals. Sure, using tranqs only, but still. Almost no oversight, so she wouldn’t even have to sneak around. The chance to take out as many Empire lowlives as she wanted? Wouldn’t pass that up for anything. Though she was still going to bring one broadhead, just in case she saw Grue doing something he ought not to be doing. Like breathing.
She was feeling almost itchy the last couple of days, too. Not beating up on the worm and not going out on patrol, official or not, had left her feeling antsy. She needed to get out there and do something. Bang some heads together, take down some bad guys, even just trip fucking Hebert down the stairs. But no, they were letting up on their punching bag for now. Lull her into a sense of false security.
Besides, laying a trap could be predator behavior too. Like those bugs, what were they called? Trapdoor spiders or something? The ones who built webs over little pits and waited for their prey to just stumble in. Not her style usually, but still valid. The prey was stupid and the predators were smart. And Sophia was going to be smarter than Hebert.
Just as soon as this Santa Claus stupidity was over.
December 20, 2010
Hannah waited with the rest of the ENE Protectorate as Armsmaster entered the conference room and strode immediately to the front of the table. And as expected, he launched into the briefing without preamble..
“In twelve hours we will begin our phase of Operation Snowdrop. Preliminary reports from Australia indicate that things are progressing well there, with violent crimes already taking a slight but measurable dip even without parahuman interference. We suspect this is due to the effects of Santa Claus, but will continue gathering data as midnight sweeps the globe.”
Velocity raised his hand and Armsmaster nodded at him.
“So something actually is happening? I was half-convinced that this was some massive psyop that the big-wigs came up with to arrest some villains.”
Hannah frowned at that. She was Muslim, not Christian, and the only Christmas tradition she participated in was the annual gift exchange, but to act with that level of deceit was distinctly not in the Christmas spirit. And given that the partially declassified dossier they had been given on Santa Claus emphasized that he chose to operate according to the myths surrounding the traditional character, it was just foolish to assume that this was a large scale fake run by the PRT.
His forehead furrowed briefly. Something about that logic didn’t quite make sense, but she couldn’t put her finger on what it was. The thought passed, unremarked on, as Armsmaster responded.
“While our response to Santa Claus is obviously of our own design, I have been assured that the parahuman himself does exist and that the effects already being seen are well within his purview. I have suggested that they increase his Master rating, though.
“As it stands, here are your assignments for the next few days. After that, we’ll reassess based on the results. Miss Militia, you’re going to meet up with Rune and Hellhound at midnight at 223 South Newcombe Street and patrol the lower half of the Docks. Dauntless, you’re meeting with…”
Hannah only paid half attention to the rest of the assignments. She could always review them in her memory later, as needed. Now to figure out how to best leverage their powers, not to mention come up with ideas on how to manage the two teens when they started patrolling. She supposed they were in the Docks because there was less chance of Rune balking at stopping any Empire-related crime. And with her firepower, Hannah would be able to keep both of them in line if need be.
December 24 - 25, 2010
Squealer whooped as she raced down the street, Armsmaster slightly behind her. She’d wanted to have a good old fashioned street race with him the very first time she’d laid eyes on his entirely under-armored bike. Sure, it was nimble, but every single one of her Big Fucking Trucks had more raw power than that thing. Hell, she didn’t even have the throttle all the way open! It was a shame that she couldn’t fire on him to slow him down, but she guessed that a pure contest of speed was just as fun. Show off just who made the superior vehicles (her, of course).
She stopped on a dime the moment she passed what she considered the finish line (thank you, inertial dampeners!) and grinned as the blue pretender to the throne had to swerve hard to avoid X-masshole 3000, her latest baby. The blinking colored lights draped all over it were a nice touch, in her opinion. In fact, she felt really, really good about this whole “Santa Watch” thing they were doing. So good she hadn’t even jonesed for a hit of anything since the whole thing began!
Hmm… maybe she could convince Skiddy to stay sober more often. It felt good to drive clear-headed. She could feel every rumble of her massive engines, enjoy the looks on the faces of all the people who dove out of her way (not that she would hit any of them. That would disappoint Ol’ Saint Nick.). Hell, she even had a few ideas pop into her head from Armsbastard’s inferior vehicle. Ones she could understand, too, not just make in a drugged-out haze!
Understanding her tech like that was… refreshing. Most of the stuff she made, she could barely remember how she’d done it and had to rely on instinct to operate them, but with the XMH3K she knew every single thing she’d done. She could disassemble and reassemble it in her sleep if she had to. Well, she could (and had!) done it before when she was in a stupor, but this was different. Somehow. Better and she liked it.
Once that loser Armsbastard got off his loser bike, he glared up at her through the windshield. He’d already learned the futility of yelling at her about safety. Especially when she pointed out that she hadn’t hit anyone or anything the entire time of Santa Watch. Hell, she’d even put a special coating on the tires so that they kept all their grip but didn’t tear up the roads. Entirely street-legal! Well, mostly street-legal. She wasn’t going to let him take a look under her hood. That was for Skiddy only.
Anyway, he’d learned that she’d just laugh off him yelling at her. Like she wasn’t protected by the Watch Truce so long as she didn’t do anything capital-B Bad. Besides, Skiddy could yell far more creatively than the Big Blue Bastard could. It was almost boring trying to take him seriously when he didn’t curse even once.
Still, it was almost midnight and she supposed she’d better keep an eye out for Santa. She turned her radar/sonar/lidar/quantum-tunneling-feedback scanner up towards the sky and waited to see what came across the screen.
She wasn’t disappointed! Just as her dashboard clock ticked over to midnight, her scanner showed a fast-moving dot rapidly approaching the Bay from the east. Used to be she’d be aiming her surface-to-air missiles at it, just to see if she could hit it, but the anticipation of watching it come closer was more exciting somehow. She could even swear she momentarily saw something over the Rig before it flashed by.
Her onboard mass sensor (always included one of those since that fuck Oni Lee had dropped a full bandolier of sticky grenades on her once) pinged and there was a present sitting on her hood! She hopped out of the cockpit and walked around to pick it up.
Really nicely wrapped, the paper was this gunmetal gray/silver with embossed wrenches and screwdrivers wearing Santa hats, and the bow was the exact color of a shimmering motor oil slick. It looked beautiful. She tore it open and inside was… a book of Greek poetry? What the fuck was that?! She hadn’t read poetry since she… was… little.
Memories started bubbling up. Sitting with her grandfather as he read her stories and poems from the old country. Epic tales of heroes and monsters from before the dawn of civilization. Her favorites had always been the ones about Herakles, even if her Pappous had left out the naughty bits that she’d read later when she was a teenager. Those were some of her favorite times at Christmas as a kid, when she had felt most loved. Most surrounded by family.
Fuck! Sherrel fiercely wiped away the tears that were forming and held the book tight to her chest. No way in shitting Christ was she going to let anyone take this away from her.
December 30, 2010
Danny woke up and cursed as he slapped the alarm off. He took a moment to psych himself up, then pulled himself to a sitting position. Despite knowing that there wouldn’t be any work, he still needed to go to the DWA offices. Just in case. After all, Christmas miracles had already happened this year.
His eyes drifted to the new picture on his nightstand. A candid photo of a laughing Annette holding an obviously squirming toddler Taylor. Even in its cheap drug store frame it was bright and hopeful and a reminder of good times. He’d never seen it before he opened the gift from “Santa Claus” and wondered where Taylor had found it.
Taylor.
Lately, thinking about her had inspired feelings of guilt and shame and hopelessness. He knew he wasn’t a great father, probably not even a good father. They barely talked, he worked too much and left her alone too much, he didn’t even know who her friends at school were, other than Emma. Still, looking at that photo… maybe their relationship wasn’t dead yet. She’d put enough thought into the gift to indicate that she still cared. And he knew that he still cared. Fiercely, even. She was the only thing he had left. And maybe… maybe it was time to start showing it.
He stood and stretched, then started his morning routine, keeping as quiet as he could so as to not wake Taylor. He remembered the look of pure shock and joy on her face when she’d opened her own gift from Santa and pulled out Annette’s flute, along with all the equipment to clean and polish it, not to mention the small songbook of Christmas carols arranged for flute. He didn’t remember getting all that for her, but must’ve at some point.
He frowned. Maybe he should cut back on his drinking some more.
Regardless, Taylor had loved it and had spent the last several days practicing with it. Successfully at that, given she moved from missed and off-key notes to simple scales in just a few days. Must’ve inherited her mother’s knack for music.
After getting dressed, Danny went downstairs and started breakfast. Just scrambled eggs and toast with jam, but enough to get the day started. He’d begun plating and was about to put Taylor’s portion in the microwave to reheat when she got up and lo and behold the daughter in question came down the stairs, creaky steps announcing her presence.
“Morning, Taylor,” he said with a smile.
She yawned in response, then said, “Morning, dad. I thought I smelled toast.”
“Just finishing breakfast, in fact. Take a seat and dig in.” He put her plate down at her usual place at the kitchen table. Taylor blinked owlishly a few times, then shrugged and sat down to tuck in.
“You’re in a chipper mood this morning,” she said between bites.
Danny made a snap decision. “Yeah, there’s not going to be much to do at work until Monday, so I think I’m going to take a half day today and tomorrow. Hang out with you some, if you’re okay with hanging out with your old man.” He barked a short laugh.
Taylor paused for a few moments, long enough for Danny to think that he’d pushed too much, and then smiled softly. “Yeah, I’d like that. Maybe go to a movie?”
Danny said, “Sounds like a plan! Look and see if there’s anything you’d like to see over at the mall theater and we can discuss it when I get back this afternoon.”
He finished wolfing down the remains of his breakfast and rinsed the dirty dishes before leaving them in the sink to scrub later. “Love you, Little Owl!” he cried as he left.
Today was going to be a good day.
January 1, 2011
Doctor Mother had long forgotten the names of the gods she’d worshiped before she helped kill one, but was tempted to offer up a prayer to them regardless.
“What do you mean ‘no triggers’?”
She watched Fortuna’s placid face as she responded. “My Paths constantly change because of new triggers adding new elements. You know this. Since the winter solstice the number of steps for every Path I have running has remained stable. My conclusion is that there have been no new triggers since then.”
“And why didn’t you inform me of this before now?” Doctor Mother demanded.
Fortuna shrugged minutely and said, “It wasn’t time yet. Not unt–”
Surprisingly, Fortuna looked actually shocked before her usual calm facade descended.
“I stand corrected. There has just been a new element introduced which reduced the number of steps in the Primary Path by several thousand. Excuse me while I investigate.”
Doctor Mother screwed up her face as Fortuna turned and walked away without another word. She was used to her acting like that, ever since her agent had told her that Doctor Mother appreciated efficiency and expediency over fancy false words. It was still annoying.
Still… hastening the defeat of Scion by that much was something to be glad of. She could only hope that it stayed that much shorter.
Now, to review Alexandria’s report on that whole situation with Santa Claus. It was annoying that nobody had managed to catch him on camera or other sensor, and doubly so that they had no way of locating him. Even Clairvoyant couldn’t find him and she had very, very few blindspots. Privately, Doctor Mother wondered if it was the Enemy behind it and rather hoped that it wasn’t. Deviations from its usual patterns were always going to be concerning.
She sighed. There was no way of knowing for sure one way or another. She’d just have to hope that the Enemy had nothing to do with it.
Unknown Date
A diminutive figure clad all in green stood in an open doorway, looking into a small and crowded carpentry workshop. Hunched over a workbench was a large man wearing black denim pants, a white linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up, and red suspenders. His fingers moved nimbly as he carved an intricately detailed wooden statue of a cat in repose.
“So do you think it worked, boss?”
Setting the carving aside, the man looked up at his pointy-eared companion. “I believe so. I’ve sensed an ember of hope growing during the days since Christmas and I, heh, hope it will continue to strengthen.”
A wave of tiredness passed over him and he slumped a little. “Even if it cost so much to keep the Christmas spirit going for so long, it was important to give it time to stick to those poor people. They have a chance, one they didn’t previously recognize, and it’s up to them to sustain it.”
He rallied and clapped his hand on the workbench. “At least until next year! We’ll give them even more if we have to, isn’t that right, Elderflower?”
The short being smiled widely and nodded vigorously. “Yes sir, boss! We’ll do everything we can to be ready!”
The seemingly elderly man grinned and slapped his large belly. “Then Merry Christmas to all!”
The other being cried out in response, “And to all a good night!”