Chapter Text
"He's dead."
The three siblings stood shoulder-to-shoulder, their faces masked in shadow. Pitou watched with disinterest as the man in the red bled out onto the rooftop he lay face-down on.
Youpi made a low noise. "So this is Christmas?"
"Santa Claus," Shaiapouf snapped as he peered down at the body. "Were you even paying attention during the seminar? Christmas is the holiday, Santa Claus is the figurehead."
"Not anymore," Youpi snorted.
Pitou's ears flattened against their head as they stroked their chin. "This complicates things significantly nyo~w. We've violated the peace treaty."
"The man was a threat to the King. As part of the treaty's terms, we agreed he was not to come to harm. Ever." Shaiapouf's eyes narrowed with disdain. "This human's own folly is to blame for breaking it, not us."
All three nodded in somber silence. The sight of something far above the Hunter Association-assigned penthouse, twinkling as it hurtled across the sky, had immediately elicited identical responses from the Royal Guards.
Never again.
Pitou had vowed after that fateful night that they would do everything in their power to prevent their King from such suffering at the hands of an airborne intruder.
Youpi was already chewing on the leg belonging to one of the animals that had been pulling the sleigh when Pitou crouched and began to survey the corpse. They prodded at the red felt suit with a single clawed finger.
"Might as well save 'im for the King," Youpi said between bites. "He's a rare, I'm sure of it."
The sheer amount of aura that had radiated off the fat man in his sleigh was unmistakable. Undoubtedly he'd make an outstanding meal, and who knew what kinds of incredible powers their King might glean from feasting upon him. But eating humans (or anything outside of meals selected by the Association) was also strictly outside the terms of the treaty.
"As much as I'd enjoy nothing more, you know our King won't touch it." Pouf's lip curled as he pulled his shiny shoe away from the spreading pool of blood. "Not if it violates the treaty."
Not if it upsets her. That was the unspoken thought that hung in the air between them.
"So, what do we do with him?"
Pitou's tail swished back and forth behind them. "Isn't it obvious?"
Youpi and Pouf both stared.
"What?" Pitou's head cocked to the side, their expression one of pure, unadulterated confusion. "We broke the peace treaty. Santa's dead. There's only one thing to do with broken things."
Their shadow stretched and contorted against the stone surface of the penthouse roof as a grotesque doll erupted from the darkness behind Pitou. Doctor Blythe's chest cavity opened its metallic maw, revealing a terrifying array of tools that gleamed under the glow of the city lights.
"We fix them."