The ADI Christmas Special

[Il Terra Di Agea]

OOC: Alright, I will say now that this may have to be non-canon. Though I really hope it won't. There will be other people involved in the RP, I'm not sure who, I'll be taking up the topic in the OOC thread to reduce clutter.

Feels good to get back to my old, eary-ADI randomness.

Also, stuff in green is taking place in the future, as a framing device. Makes it feel more like a story.

Christmas Eve, 2039

"Grandpa!"

"Wuh?"

"GRANDPA Baggs!"

"Timmy," Baggs muttered, "Why do you call me that?"

"Because that's what everyone else calls you!"

"Uhg. What are you even doing awake, you know, Santa won't come if you're not... something... something."

"Tell me a bedtime story!"

"It's after midnight, your bedtime was what? Seven hours ago?"

"Noooo... Tell me a story about Christmas!"

"I don't know any."

"You know one, you know you do!"

"Alright, alright. I know ONE Christmas story. It's a real story too."

"REALLY?!?! Cool!"

"Alright, let's see if I can remember how this goes..."

It was a dark and stormy night. The November winds were just beginning to pick up, and bring a deathly cold air down...

"Wait, are you sure this is a Christmas story?" Timmy inquired.

"Yes," Baggs spat out.

"Well, where's all the elves, and Santa?"

"They're coming, just let me tell the damn story. Now, where was I..."

It was a dark and stormy night. The November winds were just beginning to pick up, and bring a deathly cold air down on the Penitentiary. This was one of the high security ones, Palatino Penitentiary. A place for the lowest of the low; murderers, smugglers, and different kinds of murderers... and other generally bad people. They were all locked up for the night, and one of them was dying.

"Crap," The ward doctor said and he brushed his hair from his eyes, "I can't stop the bleeding..."

He held his hand down against the heavily bleeding wound on the man's neck to no avail, the blood was lifting in between the fingers of his blood, down out of the cell.

"Give me some sort of sedative, anything nearby!"

He could tell it would be too late, the blood was beginning to run down into the drain in the hell and the man's pale blue eyes were beginning to glaze from terror, to acceptance. The torrent of blood began to slow, and by the time the aide returned, he had lost his chance. The life had drained from the aging man, through the stab wound in his neck. The doctor stood, and looked at his watch. "Mark time of death on Senis Kerstman's file as 3:23 AM."

The prisoners began to murmur. Among them all, one said to another, "Kerstman, isn't he that guy who was pretending to be Santa?"

The response was a simple, "No, dude was Santa."

And in the night, in a dank cell, the blood of Christmas lay, glistening in the glow of crashing lightning.

"Wait," Timmy yelled, "What kind of story is this? Santa can't die. He's supposed to give out presents. How have I been getting presents without Santa?"

Baggs paused to think over his words, "Kerstman wasn't really Santa, Timmy. He was a bank robber and Drug dealer who used a Santa costume and some cheap acting and theatrics to convince everyone he was a wonderful man, handing out gifts to the kids, while his... henchmen did all the crimes. He was in prison for a good reason."

"But what about Santa?"

"I'm getting to it!"

News hit ADI the next day.

"Well damn," I said as I walked into my office, my friends waiting, "That big news we've been hearing about, Senis Kerstman kicked the bucket last night."

"The Santa guy?" Lahye questioned.

"Yah... Bet Komeil's taking it hard."

"How do you figure?" Carla said from the other side of the room.

"Komeil bloody likes Christmas. He's weird about it, get's him in this weird... glee. It's terrifying."

"What does he do?" DuPont said, "Last year he did his whole decorating thing, but he wasn't weird about it. My mom is more crazy about Christmas."

"You didn't see him that night. He worked at a soup kitchen," I paused for the collective gasp, "And he didn't even mess with it, he actually made his own soup... His own EDIBLE soup," We got another collective gasp here, "And this is the weirdest part; It's not just him. He visited his Father and Sister. They didn't attack each other or anything. They... They sang Chrismas carols and ate ham! It's like they were humans or something!"

The room was silent until Hummel started to cry.

"That's freaky," Lahye muttered, "and we don't know why?"

"No," I said, "That's just the thing. He doesn't have a reason."

"We need to go and talk to him..." Mason said, "He may not have heard."

A voice rang out the intercomm, "I hear."

"Komeil?" Carla said, "You want to talk about it?"

"No, I meeting with therapist." Very quietly, Komeil said, "Yes Dr. Booze, it's them..."

"Komeil," I said, "Get down here."

"Eh..."

"I'm coming up," I said into the intercomm before shutting it off, "Guys, stay here. What I'm about to tell Komeil isn't going to bring a pretty reaction."

I walked up the long flights of stairs to Komeil's flat, lodged in between a shut down service elevator and 25th floor Storage areas. The room was a pigsty, coated in dirt, filled with piles of paper, an un-inflated blow-up pool with Komeil's duck flanked the door, and a desk coated with Christmas decorations shone out from the far back of the room. I stepped over to the collapsed Komeil, and sat down in front of him.

"Komeil," I said, a serious tone in my voice, "I'm going to tell you something that you need to hear."

"Shhh," Komeil said, look at Baggs sideways, "Mr. Booze is talking!"

Baggs grabbed the glass of liquor from Komeil, and threw it at the wall. "Mr. Booze had another appointment. Now listen, Komeil. The world isn't in great shape now. We've got the inkling of a war out in Slavorussia; The America's are being whiny; The Nordlanders seem to be popping up all over, and everyone seems to be trying to get something. Nobody, I mean nobody, is thinking about the people, and more importantly, the Children. We hear all this crap about perfect, Utopian societies from every bloody nation out there, and it's all got to be crap. They're making themselves look good, but they still have the same poverty they always did. The world needs a good guy, Komeil. Someone who wants to give rather than take. Someone who wants to drop gifts instead of bombs. Someone... good."

"I don't follow..." Komeil muttered.

"Komeil," I said, beginning to stand up, "There is only way I think someone could do that. The holidays are coming up..."

"I still don't follow..."

"I think that you may be in the position to save Christmas."

"Okaaaay..."

"-sigh- Komeil! I want you to become Santa."

Komeil bolted upright, "Really?"

"Yes."

Komeil let out a shriek of glee, "Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!!!!"

"What have I unleashed upon the world?"

[JEDCJT]

OOC:

I like it.

Especially the banter between Timmy and Grandpa Baggs

[Il Terra Di Agea]

OOC: Sorry, Doing a play, cut WAY into my time.

Christmas Eve, 2039

"Grandpa? GRANDPA! Wake up!"

"Huh, what's happening?"

"You were telling me a Christmas story."

"Doesn't ring a bell..."

"It was about Uncle Komeil saving Christmas..."

"Uncle? Timmy, Komeil isn't your uncle. Never call him your Uncle. To think I could be, in any way, related to Komeil, is terrifying. Who on Earth told you to call him uncle?"

"Uncle Komeil did."

"Why?"

"Because he said calling him 'Man who keeps sneaking into our basement to steal our jam' was too unfamiliar."

"Hmm, sounds like Komeil..."

"So..?"

"So what?"

"The story?"

"Oh, right! Now, how does it go...

It was a dark and stormy night...

"No, grandpa."

"What?"

"No, we're already past that."

"We did?"

"Yah, ages ago!"

"Oh, alright..."

With a deafening roar the left engine began to stutter and tremble, the missile had torn straight through the main ionization tubes, and grazed the stabilizer...

"LALALALALALALALA!"

"What are you doing now, Timmy?"

"No! We aren't that far, we were at the part where Unc... Mr. Komeil says 'EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!'"

"OH! Why didn't you tell me that earlier?"

"You never asked?"

"That's my boy! Now if you say that again, you'll be cruising for a spanking."

"Alright everyone," I spat, "We're in for a big bit of business here. We're tasked with a little something called Christmas. Now.."

"Who are you?" Hummel interjected, "Baggs would never do something like this!"

"I... I know. I'm not necessarily happy about it, but we need Komeil functional. We can't have a repete of last flag day."

"Oh god..." Lahye muttered, "So much blood..."

"Yes, now, if we want the walls entrail free come the 25th, we need to follow through with this. So, we'll need supplies."

The faint sound of Komeil, still screaming echoes through the ceiling.

"Alright, like what?"

Komeil smashed into the door frame with a hearty crack. "We need sleigh," He said, breathing heavily between words.

"A sleigh? Like reindeer, open, red?"

"Yes, like Santa sleigh."

"That's... impossible."

"NOTHING IS IMPOSSIBLE WHEN YOU BELIEVE!" Komeil screamed as he jumped for Lahye's throat.

I threw my hand between them and barked, "ENOUGH! Komeil, you know reindeer cannot fly. Lahye, we need something as close, at first glance, to a real sleigh as possible. It's part of the mystique of the holidays."

"But it can't be done! No mad man would ever lend his name to designing a monstrosity like that!"

"Unless..." Komeil muttered, "I know man. Man from Ubersteinia. Kitten home was name... OR something like that... It doesn't matter! Everyone speak of his masterness of engineering. He genius. Have very big brain... and funny hair..."

"Alright," Lahye said, "We need to find engineering master Kittenhrome to make a giant, implausibly functional flying device! What else?"

"Toys?" Hummel inquired from the corner, "How do you do the toys."

"We would need some way of... compacting them," I said, "Like... materializing the toys..."

"Wait," Lahye said, "That, we can do."

"No..."

"Yes! In R&D, we've been working on a machine... You know how yarn is made? Using lots of little fibers and sticking them together. The thing we have down there works like that, but with carbon fibers, and a big needle. IT stabs the pieces in, and twists them, building fairly strong components from a semi-random lattice of carbon fibers. The product is a light, potentially solid, nigh invincible end product. With tiny changes, we could re-purpose it, shrink it down, and get a machine that you put dense carbon into, and spit out... I don't know... Teddy Bears or something!"

"There go we!" Komeil yelled, "Now, I be needing elves."

"Elves?"

"Yes. Green men. Funny shoes. Help Santa."

"You know," Lahye said, "It could be useful to have a corps of people to keep up the sleigh. However Catterhoom, or whatever, builds this thing, having men in the air to keep it going could be useful."

"Yes, " I pondered, "Kerstman, the old Santa guy had a few men who he rectuited for just that. If I remember the trials, they were all military trained, and recruited saying that they would be helping people. There was one guy in particular; Neil MacGowan. Guy seemed crushed when he realized it was all a farce. He got out on parole a few months ago. Let's see if we can get him on."

"Yay!" Komeil cheered.

"So. Lahye, you get that machine of yours running."

"Done," Lahye said, doing a salute to mock my tone.

"Hummel, you track down... Catterpines... or whatever his name is."

"Roger that," Hummel said, "Find Kubblelimes."

"And I track down the elf. Everyone clear?"

Everyone nodded in agreement.

"Let's go save Christmas."

OOC: Hooray! Crappy name based humor

[KaiserMelech Mikhail]

OOC: In the middle, I was laughing so hard I was crying. Now I want to know the story of Flag Day.

[Il Terra Di Agea]

OOC: In the middle, I was laughing so hard I was crying. Now I want to know the story of Flag Day.

OOC: That will have to wait until June, when Komeil will... I don't know... maim people with patriotism or something....

[Angela Spencer]

OOC: Just hilarious.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: In the middle, I was laughing so hard I was crying. Now I want to know the story of Flag Day.

OOC: That will have to wait until June, when Komeil will... I don't know... maim people with patriotism or something....

OOC: Not so sure I want to know about Flag Day myself...but this is a hilarious, side-splitter of a story.

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Christmas Eve, 2039

"Lableslimes?" Timmy said, "Who is he?"

"No one," Baggs said, "That wasn't his name."

"Than why did no one call him by his name?"

"Because we didn't know it..."

"But Uncle Komeil said he knew him?"

"But he didn't remember his name right."

"Why?"

"Because... Well, you know last year when your daddy drank too much Daddy drinks, and got all weird?"

"I think..."

"Well, Komeil had a bad habit of drinking too many Daddy drinks, and smoking too many Daddy sticks, and consuming too many other assorted daddy mushrooms, powders, liquids gasses and pastes."

"Why did Uncle Komeil steal from my Dad?"

"Because... eh... Komeil bought them from your daddy."

"So my Dad sells special daddy mushrooms, powders, liquids gasses and pastes to funny men is masks who break into our basement and do silly stuff?"

"Yes... no... well... a little, but mostly... muuuuuh... Let's get back to the story!"

"Yay! But what was the guy's real name, you never told me."

"Well, if memory serves, his name was...

"Dr. Hektor Kettenheim!" Hummel yelled as he stood up from a pile of old census records.

"Whotenheim?" Lahye said from behind a computer screen across the room.

Hummel grabbed another paper and stepped out into the center of the room, "'Dr. Hektor Kettenhiem. Born: 1962. Hair: Blond.' He was a high ranking engineer in Ubersteinia, most of his work was classified, and hidden or destroyed after Ubersteinia fell. This has got to be the guy Komeil was talking about!"

"Sounds right..." Lahye muttered, "KOMEIL!"

Through the ceiling above, the loud clank of heavy boots pattered around. Komeil burst through the door a moment later, "Yes?"

"That guy, the engineer, what was his name again?"

"Heek tar Kittenhome."

"You mean 'Hektor Kettenhiem'?"

"Yes, Kittenhome.

"Are you sure?"

Komeil stood, a bewildered look on his face, "Yeeeeeees?"

"Really?"

"Ehhhh. May-be."

"Close enough. Hummel, call Baggs about getting ahold of this guy, I'm going back to work."

Specific Dynamics Headquarters

A loud horn sounded to alert the workers of their Lunch break. Almost instantly, over a hundred crushed people slowly trudged out around Baggs.

"Fingal Gillies?" I said, stepping over to a small, Scottish man that had just stepped out from the building.

"Aye," He muttered, "Who's oskin'?"

"Baggs Q. Headington, esq. You sir are a hard man to find."

"Thot's by choice. Whadda ya want?"

"You worked for a Mr. Kerstman for a good deal of time. You said that he tricked you into stealing for him. That you joined him thinking you could help people, but he went and turned, started to take more than he gave back. Correct?"

"Aye. Those were bad days. Not times Ah want to remember."

"Well, I want to make a deal with you; To give you a chance to give back what you took. You served your time, but I know first hand, that stuff has a way of sticking with you. I want you to be able to do something about it."

"Ney. I won't dooeet. I've been tricked too many times already to go back. I took a lot from the world, I won't dooeet again."

"You don't understand..."

"Ach. I do. I've been down that rood befoh. It don't matter what yah be planning in the start, yah always get greedy with the money passing through yah hands, and yah grab it. Mah answer's noo."

"You don't realize who you're saying no to. The man I'm here on behalf of is completely, certifiably insane, but there is one thing he is not, and that is greedy. The man is doing this because he doesn't want the children in this world to have to suffer. He's doing this out of the kindness of his heart, and that's all that matters." I took a deep breath, and looked down at the man, handing him a business card, "If you change your mind, call this number."

As I got to the car, my phone rang, it was Hummel.

"Call him now," I said, "And we need a new protection plan."

ADI

Komeil picked up the phone, and let it ring, "Hello. This Dr. Kittenhome?"

[freakwars]

OOC:

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Christmas Eve, 2039

"Wait, didn't you say his name was Kettenheim?" Timmy questioned.

"Yes, it doesn't mean that Komeil knows, or even remembers it," Baggs said in response.

"But it still..."

"It's Komeil Timmy. We are proud he can tie his shoes, we can't expect too much of him."

"What about the elf?"

"What about him?"

"His name changed..."

"What?"

"His name. It was Neil MacGowan the first time you said it, and it was Fingal Gillies the second time. Which one is right?"

"Uhh, Fingal... Yah, I'm pretty sure Fingal."

"But why did you say it wrong the first time?"

"Because..."

OOC: RPed out with Uberstein through MSN as to not disrupt the narrative

"Hello. This Dr. Kittenhome?" Komeil yelled into the receiver

"...no, but there is Doctor Kettenheim here," Kettenheim said, wincing a bit from the noise, "Who is this?"

"This be Dr. Komeil. Are you sure you are not Kittenhome. Have glasses, hair tail, and suit?"

"That describes me, but for the last time, my name is Dr. Kettenheim. Now what is it that you want? I don't have all day."

"I not have all day either Dr. Kittenhome. I require machine-ical services that you provide, yes?"

"That matters, what is that you need?"

"... How put this in good way... Need Santa sleigh."

"I suggest you check your local novelties store then, I don't see how that requires my expertise in any way shape or form."

"No, need to fly. Like Santa. And look like sleigh, but have fly juice in it." (Komeil has no understanding of powered flight)

"...you want a sleigh that can fly?"

"No, I want pickled herring.... Wait, no, Yes, I want fly sleigh."

"I take it you have the ridiculous amounts of money I would require for such a feat?"

A sound of rustling could be heard as Komeil dug through his pockets, "I have ten herring, a button, something called Gutenberg bible, two pieces of twine, and T. Rex Skeleton."

"...I'm sure we can come to a deal later on. I'll be there in an hour."

There was a long silence between the conversation ending, and Kettenheim's line going dead.

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Christmas Eve, 2039

“So what happens next Grandpa?” Timmy excitedly screamed, “Does Uncle Komeil save Christmas?! Does he fly around and shoot things?!?!”

“Nothing,” Baggs said back.

“What?”

“Nothing. Kettenheim got stuck at the airport, because of a storm, we couldn’t get our act together in time, and we called the whole thing off.”

“What?” Timmy said, tears coming into his eyes.

“Ah, I’m just kidding. Let an old man have his fun.”

“YOU’RE MEAN!” Timmy screamed, still crying a bit.

“Yes… Yes I am. Alright let’s get back to the story.”

“Dr Kettenheim, I presume?” I said nonchalantly as I walked into the terminal, flanked by two diplomats.

“Yes, quite,” The aging, blond man said from behind his black spectacles, “My payment?”

“Has been sent to your lockbox. And before you ask, your lab has been competed to your specifications.”

“Including the plutonium? Nobody ever remembers the plutonium.”

“Yes… The plutonium… On such short notice we were not able to… procure it. I hope that that is alright.”

“Yes, fine, whatever. Take me to the lab, I’ve already finished some schematics, and I’d like to get started.”

“Fine, excellent. The diplomats here will escort you to the facility.”

“Sure…”

A beep began to emanate from my pocket, “Dammit Komeil…” I muttered, “Well Dr. Kettenheim, it was a pleasure to meet you, but I must be going. Apparently someone has been throwing deer off of my building.”

ADI Headquarters

“Sir!” The police officer yelled over a loudspeaker from the ground, “We’ve been getting complaints all day about falling deer. Sir, you need to stop!”

“No!” Komeil yelled from the ledge, “Need train Reindeer for to fly!”

“Sir, that makes no sense… At all.”

“YES… IT DOES MAKE SENSE! DEER FLY! NEED TO BE GIVEN TRAINED FIRST!”

The officer ran from his car as another reindeer plummeted to the ground, and stood back up, dazed and terrified.

“KOMEIL!” I yelled, frantically getting out of my car, “I told you; DEER CANNOT AN WILL NOT FLY!”

“Yes they will… IF YOU BELIEVE!!!!” Komeil yelled, pushing another one down.

“DAMMIT KOMEIL!”

Komeil plugged his ears, and lifted himself onto the final Reindeer. “I BELIEVE IN YOU RUDOLF!” He yelled as he flung his weight to the side, pulling both him and the deer off the side.

With a heavy crack, the two smashed into the ground. Komeil stood and brushed the mud and snow from his sweater, “Baggs… I think reindeer may not be able to fly.”

“Yes Komeil. Reindeer cannot fly… How is the reindeer?”

“I think he break antler…”

“Great… We need to go talk to Hummel, he said he had an idea for your assistant.”

“Good,” Komeil paused, “SORRY RUDOLF!”

Komeil and I walked through the foyer, and stepped into the elevator, drawing no strange looks whatsoever. You’d be surprised what your employees can get used to. A mere minute later, we exited and stepped into the conference room.

“Hummel, what do we have?” I asked.

“Well, I was looking through some old Norwegian folk tales. Have you ever heard of a Yule Goat?”

“Yes…” I muttered, “The weird little goat things people put out in Christmas, right?”

“Well, now, yes. But in the past, the Yule goat was a helper of Santa, who punished the bad kids, and checked that the proper Yuletide preparations were made.”

“So is Goat Elf?” Komeil said, beginning to get excited.

“More or less. But I was thinking, one of us could help Komeil do this…”

The room fell silent.

I walked over to the intercom, “Send Butterscotch in, please,” I said.

“Yes?” Butterscotch said and he burst through the door.

“Ladies and Gentlemen,” I loudly proclaimed, “We’ve found our Yule Goat!”

OOC: Expect lots of posts leading up to Christmas, I managed to write almost all of the remaining RP during a seven hour car trip today.

Edited December 24, 2009 by Il Terra Di Agea

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Christmas Eve, 2039

“So Grandpa,” Timmy inquired, “Mr. Butterscotch was a goat?”

“No…” Baggs Muttered, “But he did wear a goat.”

Timmy went still, squinting his eyes, “He wore… a Goat?”

“Not all of it, of course. Just the skin.”

“…The… Skin?”

“No… He wore… The Goat’s… CLOTHES! That’s it. He wore the Goat’s clothes, and the Goat was very nice to share.”

“Oh.”

“Yes.”

“… Soo, the story?”

“Yes! Well, nothing happened for a few weeks, but when we got to Christmas Eve, we were in a pinch…”

“Lahye,” I yelled over the intercom, “We’re four hours off of the big night; How are things on your end?”

“Good Baggs,” Lahye said sleepily, “Gift cannon is operational, but I haven’t heard anything on the sleigh. Kettenhiem has been… well… Secretive. He’s never at the progress checks, he locks the lab behind him, and he always yells ‘BUSY’ at the top of his lungs when we try to talk to him.”

“Dammit… He needs that thing finished, and finished now.”

“Baggs?” A heavily accented voice spat out of the intercom, “We’re done.”

“Kettenheim?”

“Yes. The sleigh is finished. Ready to be mounted with that silly gun that glasses-what’s-his-name has been working on.”

“Great, I’m coming down.”

As I stepped from my office, Komeil immediately came sprinting in from the hallway.

“SLEIGH DONE?!” He yelled, hopping up and down.

“Yes Komeil, the sleigh is done.”

“WHEEEEEEEE!” He yelled as he sprinted down the stairs.

“-Sigh- Kids these days… Who am I talking too?”

When I reached the Door to Kettenheim’s lab, Komeil was furiously pounding on the door.

“OPEN!” He yelled, “OPEN, OPEN, OPEN! Please and thank you door! Please Open!”

I sighed as I pressed the button to release the door, and let Komeil fall through.

Komeil stood, completely silent, completely aghast.

“It is a ‘beaute’, is it not?” Kettenheim awkwardly said.

Komeil continued to say nothing.

“… Well then… The engines here are fiberglass and aluminum housings, ionized air engines, as powerful as a turbine of roughly equivalent size, but completely silent. Of course, to meet their tremendous power needs, over half of the body is dedicated to a powerful generator. Controls are about the same as any flying machine, allowed by the dedicated stabilization computer. You have extra gauges, one that counts toys delivered, another that reads Turret ammunition. The entire sleigh is stealth; Fairly effective against Radar, and Very good against IR, the plus of course being that, due to its small size and rather strange shape, it should not draw too much attention. Is this up to what you need, ‘Dr’ Komeil?”

Komeil only dropped his silence when his cigarette burned down to his lips.

“Yes…” He timidly said, “Mr. Dr. Kittenhome?”

“Err… Yes?”

“I think I may love you.”

“Great…”

“Christmas?”

“What?”

“It’s time for to Christmas.”

[Il Terra Di Agea]

ADI was abuzz with energy. The night had arrived, and it was time to begin.

In the deepest parts of the labs, Komeil and Butterscotch stood, and began their slow tread to the sleigh. Komeil dressed in his proper Santa attire; a red suit, lined in white fur, a hat, and heavy leather boots. Beside him, Butterscotch followed in his normal civilian attire, save for a goat-hide vest and a goat-face mask.

“Komeil?” Butterscotch whispered, “This thing is itchy…”

Komeil said nothing, and simply tread on.

“Komeil?”

“Goat cannot talk,” He barked, “Stop be silly.”

“Komeil,” I said over the intercom, “We here in support are ready for you. The sleigh is fueled, the canon is loaded, and you’ve been properly armed. We’ll be here if you need us, but it’s up to you.”

“Rodger Baggs.”

“Alright, I’m going to assume you responded. Komeil, I cannot here you unless you use your comm. System. It’s in the sleigh. It has a sticky note on it… Butterscotch, don’t let him kill himself, I can’t let him die until he tells me where he parked my car back in 1997.”

Komeil sat down in the driver’s seat, and strapped into his seat; Butterscotch did the same. The sleigh was fully stocked with two shotguns, sticky bombs and a light anti-air gun for close range fighting if the need arose. The sleigh smelled of new car and cheap booze, but neither Komeil nor Butterscotch cared. They were on a mission, and they were not going to let smell get in the way.

“Blast off,” Komeil said, flicking the ignition.

“Shouldn’t we open the doors Komeil?”

“BLAST OFF!” Komeil pulled hard back on the throttle, and the sleigh went shooting down the short, underground runway.

“!@#$ KOMEIL!” Butterscotch yelled as he hit reached forward and hit the tiny button on the dash.

With only a centimeter of room on either side to spare, the sleigh shot out of the hanger, and into the sky.

“Activating Canon,” Komeil said, flicking another switch. The bottom of the sleigh opened up, revealing two large, square barrels on rotating platforms. After a moment of warming up, the canons began to fire small stuffed bears and toy soldiers down with ungodly speed and precision onto the front doors of the nearby houses. In only a few hours, the countless toys were landing on the doorstep of every house in Europe (That censuses reported children living in at least), regardless of race, religion or ideology, with a simple note attacked; Happy Holidays from the Man in the Red Suit. In another handful of hours, Most of Africa and Asia had been delivered to, and Oceania was not far ahead. Then came South and North America, all with minimal issues.

“Hoo, this sure is fun,” Komeil said lazily, slurring his words a bit, “Glad I got to help.”

“Komeil, are you drunk?” Butterscotch inquired.

“Well, I could drink, or could do the heroin. Booze seem like better choice.”

“Yes… Quite.”

Butterscotch and Komeil sat in silence for a moment, listening only to the sound of the canons buzzing, and a distant woosh. The noise sudden became louder, and louder, until a massive bang passed overhead.

“What the hell?!” Butterscotch yelled, reaching for the AA gun controls.

“Plane?” Komeil yelled, ears ringing.

Another loud crack shot out of the sky, and another.

“!@#$!” Butterscotch yelled, “Komeil, up the speed! We need to get rid of these guys!”

“Rodger!” Komeil yelled, pushing the throttle up as high as it would go, and putting a helmet on.

There were three fighters in formation, now pulling back around. Butterscotch finally got the gun operating, and opened fire on the incoming planes. They split up and fired their first shot off, missing by far. Komeil and Butterscotch said nothing, but both knew it was a warning shot. The front plane pulled under the Sleigh to try and get a look at the craft. It took only a split second for the canon to fire, completely by luck, in the direction of the plane’s engine. The powerful jet sucked the light toy in, and clogged, violently. In a massive explosion of fire, the jet was torn to shreds and began to plummet to the snow-capped mountains below.

“I guess he could not BEAR pressure!” Komeil yelled, laughing like a hyena.

“I don’t know,” Butterscotch said, smiling himself, “Maybe he had to BLOW because someone called the FUZZ!”

“Or maybe he just TOY with us!”

They both sent silent as another missile shot past them.

“Let’s start shooting again…” Butterscotch muttered.

“Yes. We should,” Komeil responded, wide eyed.

The bright light of the missile faded a bit, and then seemed to eclipse; A bright ring of light surrounding the dark core of the rocket.

“Is it heading toward us?” Butter scotch asked, breaking out in a sweat.

“Nooooo,” Komeil said, lighting up a cigar, “Want one?”

With a deafening roar the left engine began to stutter and tremble, the missile had torn straight through the main ionization tubes, and grazed the stabilizer. A massive jet of fire shot out, and wrapped around the cabin.

OOC: NOTE: While writing this post, I came up with the entire plot for another ADI Christmas Special. So yes, you'll have to endure at least one more

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Christmas Eve, 2039

“NOOOOOO!” Timmy yelled, “They can’t die! No!”

“Wai-“ Baggs tried to interject.

“NO! Santa can’t die TWICE! Not in ONE SINGLE STORY!”

“Timmy-“

“NO! Stop the story! I don’t want to read it. No.”

“Timmy, Think about this. Is Mr. Komeil Dead? Is Mr. Butterscotch dead?”

“No…”

“So can they die here?”

“No… Good.”

“Right…good...”

“…Why aren’t we dead?” Butterscotch muttered, “We should be dead.”

“We aren’t dead?” Komeil said, taking the cigar from his clenched jaw, “What with all flying people if not dead?”

“Flying?”

“Aye, flying,” A voice said with a heavy, Scottish Accent, “’Ow the hell did you figure we kept up without flying?”

“ELF!” Komeil yelled, standing from his seat, “MERRY CHRISTMAS!”

“Merry Christmas t’you too,” Gillies said, smiling, “Brought a few o’ my friends too.”

He made a sweeping hand motion, and instantly, another thirty green clad, jet pack-wearing, heavily armed men flew up around the sleigh.

“This is o’ course, not countin the Gadges holdin yah up.”

“ELF!” Komeil yelled again, hopping up and down in his seat.

“Aye, Ko… Santa. We’ll haud up th' fighters, ye need tae lain an' finish whit ye started.”

“Alright Elf Man. For Christmas need be saved!”

Komeil grabbed the steering, and pushed the sleigh into a sharp dive.

“Can you… eh… Tell them to land us?” Butterscotch whispered to Gillies.

“Och aye, Ah probably shoods,” Gillies muttered, “Tak' them doon, wee jimmies.”

The jets began to scream back over, “Let's gang kill some jets.”

With Fantastic coordination, the group of short, green clad, men shot off toward the planes, now numbering twelve in total.

The minute the sleigh touched down, the elves were off to fight with their brothers-in-arms.

“Hmmm,” Komeil said, “I don’t think we are can fly more.”

Komeil tapped his boot against the crumbling outer edge of the engine duct.

“So, we’re going to go home?” Butterscotch muttered, “There’s not much else we can do.”

“No… In Homeland, Santa not give up. He do everything it take to deliver toys. Butterscotch-not-candy, remove turrets, and separate, and get shotguns. I go and get Snow-car. We have five hour left, and very little houses left. We can still do this.”

“Ah… Alright.”

Komeil took a pistol, and began to walk to a nearby shed. As Butterscotch worked to remove the guns, he winced when he heard two gunshots.

“Komeil,” He muttered, “Did you just kill the people who owned the snowmobiles you need?”

“What? No! It Christmas! No killing on Christmas! I trade pistol for Powersledmobile!”

“Wow… Really?”

“Yes! What I do suggest otherwise?”

Butterscotch stood, completely silent.

“Exactly!”

“Well… I managed to take out the turrets, and they both have enough ammo to go for the rest of the way. I think If I go south, and you go North, we can…”

Komeil grabbed the canon, strapped it down to his Snowmobile, and drove straight north at full speed.

“Or yah, just drive away. Sure Komeil. That works…”

Komeil gritted his teeth, and drove through the snow, canon firing wildly in to the air to get the gifts where they belong. As the sun began to rise behind him, Komeil realized that he wasn’t alone. Scores of armored cars were closing in behind him. “FEDERAL AGENTS!” One blared from a loudspeaker, “PULL OVER!”

“NEVER!” Komeil yelled, “NOT UNTIL I FINISH CHRISTMAS!”

“PULL OVER!”

“YOU PULL OVER!” Komeil yelled, pulling out his shotgun, “OR I PULL YOU OVER…to… die… YAH!”

Komeil opened fire behind him, hitting several of the cars with heavy buckshot, damaging a radiator or two, and cracking a windshield, but doing little damage.

“THAT IS ENOUGH! PULL OVER OR WE WILL FIRE!”

Komeil smiled. He had seen this path from the sleigh, and knew what was about to come up. He fired straight forward, breaking through the nearby fence, and plowed through the broken wood. With a sharp right, he slid onto the closed ski slope, and shot down, the cars still in pursuit. Finally, as the slope ended, the ramp began. Komeil shot up, straight into the sky where the cars braked, and plowed directly into the snow, and the ramp itself.

“HO HO HO! MERRY CHRISTMAS !@#$%*ES!!!!”

OOC: Heartfelt ending comes tomorrow

Edited December 25, 2009 by Il Terra Di Agea

[Il Terra Di Agea]

Komeil was able to commandeer a plane a few miles out of the North pole, and flew back to Southport. Butterscotch was beat up, but was picked up via ADI Helicopter and flew back to a Norwegian Naval vessel that took him home. All that mattered come their arrival was that they were home.

Komeil, filthy, sweaty, and tired, stepped into my office, “I did it.”

“Yes, it would appear that you did,” I said, honestly, a bit glad for him.

“Look, even clicker say so,” Komeil said, taking out his gift counter, salvaged from the sleigh.

“Komeil,” I muttered, “This is one short…”

“No!”

“Yes… You still have… fifteen minutes before sun rises again.”

Komeil sprinted down the stairs, and into the laboratories, looking for someone, anyone, who had not been given a gift.

“Hello, sir!” A delivery man yelled to Komeil, “I have a delivery here, says ‘Pu- Danger Radioactive.’ Someone needs to sign off for it.”

Komeil’s eyes lit up as he grabbed the box, and went back into a full sprint. He knew what he needed to do. He ran down to the deepest lab, in the deepest reaches of the ADI building.

“KITTENHOME!” He yelled has he ran face first into Dr. Kettenheim.

“Yes, I was just leaving…”

“I have something for you. Is gift!”

“I do not need anything ‘Dr’ Komeil. I need to make this flight.”

“No, is what you want more than anything!” Komeil said, as he slowly held the box up to Kettenheim.

“What the hell is…” Kettenheim paused as he read the box, “Plutonium…”

“Yes, is what you want, yes?”

“Y… Yes,” Kettenheim said, his cruel, thin lips pulling into a smile, “This is… What I want. Thank you Komeil. Thank you very much.”

Komeil smiled as Kettenheim grabbed his suit case and continued up the stairs.

And they say Dr. Kettenheim’s heart grew three sizes that day…

As the sun finally rose on Christmas morning, when Children were finding their toys, and parents were wearily waking to their children’s shrieks of joy, Komeil, Butterscotch, everyone who had a part in the previous night’s escapades and I went to the nearest bar for drinks before bed.

“Well,” I said, tired out of my mind, “That all went pretty darn well.”

“Yes,” Komeil said with a smile, “Did.”

“I propose a toast!” Butterscotch said excitedly, “To Christmas Cheer!”

“Och, I'll bevvy tae 'at,” Gillies said, holding his helmet in one hand and a scotch in the other.

“To Christmas Cheer!” We all said, knowing that what we had done had made the world a better, or at least happier, place.

Baggs smiled as he picked up his young Grandson, and carried him off to bed. It was already Christmas morning, and gifts were already under the tree. Baggs lowered Timmy into bed and smiled, “Merry Christmas Kid.”

Baggs stepped back out of the room, and slowly shut the door, treading lightly; he walked outside, and stood on the doorstep. Across the way, Komeil was, as always spending his morning sitting on his roof.

“Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a good night!”

[Uberstein]

OOC: Brilliant.

[Lynneth]

OOC: Brilliant.

OOC: I can only second this man's statement and add

"Glorious"

to it.