A CoXmas Carol

Author’s Note:

This is a quick story, designed to get me in the mood for re-starting work on “Dark Mirror”. It’s part of the Guardian Stories universe, but still, of course, considered AU to City of Heroes. It’s only considered AU because I can’t be bothered to research absolutely everything, and any canonological fault is merely because it’s AU. So there.

[u]A CoXmas Carol
[u]By Fire Guardian

Chapter One

December 24th

2:36am

Now I remember why I hate kids.

What with all my adventures, the things I’ve seen and done, there’s one thing that’s always managed to scare me more than anything. Not Lord Tyrant, not those sodding Malta Sappers, and not even a giant single-celled organism called Hamidon.
There’s nothing quite so eerie as the lone, keening wail of an infant.

Emily was out in Atlas Park on business, called in at the middle of the night because some Hero or other had gotten his Jingle Jetpack misfiring, and had got his cape tangled up in the ropes which helped suspend the flag on top of the pole of City Hall. As the City Representative, she had been asked to go down and help him out before he destroyed the whole hall. Since she was out of our home in Overbrook, it fell upon me to go and see what the Screaming Beast of Doom (otherwise known as my delightful son) wanted.
As I walked out of my bedroom, I squinted as my eyes adjusted to the light in the hallway. The light automatically got dimmer – not by the lighting itself, but rather, my electronic eyes recognised the act of me squinting, and turned down the amount of light I could ‘see’.

Rather handy, these things.

I went to what was my office, and was now Sammy’s bedroom, and checked in on him. My two month old son was lying in his crib, sleeping peacefully.
Frowning to myself, I floated out of his room slowly, and wandered down to the kitchen, to make a snack.
‘That’s odd.’ I thought to myself, as I put some mayonnaise onto a piece of bread. ‘I could have sworn that I’d heard a baby crying.’. My thoughts instantly turned back to the short holiday I’d taken with Emily and baby Sammy a few days ago, at the Dimensional Ski Resort. I had been approached…well…harangued, really, into helping rescue ‘Baby Time’ from a long-time enemy of mine, Snaptooth.
As I put some beef into the sandwich, my mood brightened somewhat. ‘I must have been dreaming about that mission. That must be it.’
The screaming of a baby, however, shook my out of my reverie. Glancing towards the stairs, I realised that it wasn’t coming from Sammy’s room…nor was it waking him up. It was, instead, coming from the lounge.

Slowly, I peeked my head around the archway that lead to our ‘retro-minimalistic’ living room, and I froze.
“You took your time.”
I blinked, to make sure I wasn’t seeing things, then stepped into the lounge.
“That was you?”
The person in front of me tilted his head back, and did a passable imitation of a baby crying.
“Ah.”
“Yeah, that was me. Who else?”
“My…my son?”
“What? You finally banged someone enough times you had a kid?”
“Uhh…yeah.”
“Way to go my son!”
“Thanks. Can I…ask you something?”
“Fire away!”
“It’s just…aren’t you dead?”
Sammy Edwards smirked at me. “As a doornail.”

***

“I don’t understand it.”
“You don’t understand [censored].”
I glared at my long-dead friend. “Your mum.”
“Ahhh, another handsome retort from the living.”
“Look, shut up. You’re dead.”
“You’re ugly.”
“You’re dead!”
“You’re still ugly.”
“Sammy!”
“…What?”
“You’re dead!”
“Hey, Jay? Guess what?”
“What?”
“I boned your mum. And you’re ugly.”
I sighed and sat down. This could take a while.
“Anyway, look, I’m here for a reason.”
“You’re dead.”
“No [censored], Sherlock. Now, look…”
“No, -you- look. There’s no way you can be here. Absolutely no way. You died years ago.”
“Jay, I’m trying to get to my point, but…”
“This has to be a nightmare. Or…an allergic reaction!”
“No, I’m here. You can see me. You can hear me. Why’re you so against what your eyes and ears are telling you?”
“Because something might be deceiving them! You could be a bit of indigestion, for all I know. That must be it!” I pointed at Sammy. “There’s more of Bisto than of Beast about you!”
Sammy’s ghost stared at me. “Are you done ripping off Charles Dickens yet?” Another thought occurred to him. “Wait…do you even get Bisto over here? Maaan, I would have done the mum from those old ads.”
I glared at the spectre in front of me. “Well…I give up.”
“Good. Frankly, you’re being a dick.”
“Hey!”
“Now, look. Jay, you’ve done some good in the world. You’ve also done some serious bad.”
What?
“What?”
“You heard me. I was right by your side for some of them, and I’ve done some bad things myself…that’s why I wear these for all eternity.”
As Sammy stretched his arms out in front of him, I could see that there was something restraining him…something dark, and evil, and…
“Are those fuzzy handcuffs?”
Sammy looked down, and blushed. At least, I think he blushed. He got even paler around the cheeks.
“Damn, I knew I should have finished up before I came here.”
“Ya think?”
“Anyway.” Sammy floated higher into the air. “I have summoned you here for a purpose.”
“That’s great, Orson Welles. Get down, will you? I don’t want ectoplasm on my ceiling fan.”
“What?” Sammy looked up, and saw the fan, in full motion, inches from his head.
“Oh, [censored]. No time!” He moved closer and closer to the fan.
“Youregonnabevisitedbythreeghostsfromnoonbye!”
I blinked.
“Uhh…wanna say that again?”
Sammy glared at me. “Youregonnabevisitedbythreeghostsfromnoonbye!”
“Yeeaaahh…” I scratched my head. “Still didn’t get that.”
“I [censored] hate you.”
“Good. Because you’re dead. Now try it again, and slower.”
“You’re going to be visited by three ghosts. The first one will be coming for you at noon.”
“Ahh.” I frowned. “Hang on. Noon on Christmas Eve day? Sod off.”
“Jay?”
“And who’s ripping off Charles Dickens now, dead boy?”

Whatever answer Sammy would have given, I wouldn’t know, as the ceiling fan tore him to shreds, and splattered ectoplasm all over my lounge, and me.

“Ugh!” I tried to scrape the Sammy-gunk off me, when I heard a voice whisper, “Expect the first ghost at noon…”
“What the hell?”
I looked down, and there was a large splatter of ectoplasm on my Power Belt, which had a shape on it, which looked somewhat like a mouth.
“Dude,” it said. “I are on ur belt, chatting up ur laydies.”
As I felt the room spin, and watched it get darker, I could only part my lips slightly. But it was enough.
“Motherfu…”
And then I passed out.

Maybe it wasn’t enough.

---

Chapter Two

5:57am

“What the hell? JASON!”
Ahh, yes. The joys of matrimony. Whatever happened to those days when a husband would come home and be greeted warmly by his apron wearing, hair-in-curlers wife, who took his briefcase, asked about his day, and went to fetch his pipe?
TV lied to me.
Then again, I don’t think any of the characters in those old black and white sitcoms had started out their romantic relationships with one of them nearly killing the other. Twice.
Ain’t love grand?
“Jason Temple-Tucker, you wake up this instant! What the hell is this mess?”
I cracked my eyes open slightly. Emily, still wearing her glasses and business suit, glared down at me.
“You know…” I started. “Those glasses don’t frame your face very well.”
Judging by the look that my comment earned me, I doubted that humour would be the best approach.
“What’s this goop? And why’re you downstairs? Something could have happened to Sammy, and you’d be down here and unable to help him!”
Sammy.

That ghostly swine.

I sat up in an instant, and looked around. Traces of the ectoplasm were dripping from the walls, ceiling, and me.
Emily shook her head. “Do I really want to know what you were doing?”
I shrugged. “The ceiling fan made a mess of…”
“OH!” Emily looked like she was trying to not retch. “That is absolutely disgusting! I know guys do…well…that, but you’re married, now.”
“What? No, Em, wait…”
“Aren’t I enough for you?”
“Yeeeaaaah, baby!”
I glared down at my belt. Sammy’s mouth was still there, smirking. Emily didn’t notice the mouth, she merely punched me.
Hard.
In the face.
“Just for that, you’ll be on the couch for the rest of the month.”
I scowled, and wiped Sammy’s mouth from my belt before he could protest. “Em, wait, that wasn’t me.”
She cocked her fist at me. “Want another?”
I sighed. “It was Sammy.”
Em’s eyes goggled at me. Literally goggled. “Are you blaming…all this…on my son?”
‘Sure, when he’s done nothing wrong, he’s your son. When he’s messed up, it’s my spawn.’ I blinked. ‘Ew. Spawn.’ I shivered momentarily, although I wasn’t sure why.
“No, I’m blaming it on Sammy. Edwards. You know, guy who used to live with us? My best friend? You killed him?”
“I know who Sammy Edwards is. But how…”
“He came back as a ghost.”
Emily stared at me, then put her hand on my shoulder. “Jay…I know that people can get depressed at this time of year, but Sammy’s gone. Why would he come back as a ghost on Christmas Eve?”
“He kept going on about sleeping with my mum.”
I didn’t like the twinkle in Emily’s eyes. “That sounds like Sammy.”
“He also said something about three ghosts visiting me.”
She laughed. “Oh, come on. What is this, A Christmas Carol? You’re no Ebenezer Scrooge, you’ve helped millions of people.”
“Yeah, but he seemed to think that I’d spend all eternity wearing furry handcuffs.”
Emily smirked. “Maybe if you’re lucky.”
“Em…”
“Next month. You’re on the couch, remember?”
I sighed. “Yes, Em.”

It was going to be a long day.

***

11:56am

I watched the clock from my office in the Tucker Foundation headquarters (which was, in all fairness, a short elevator ride away from my apartment) as it ticked ever slowly towards noon.
“This is stupid.” I muttered to myself. “Absolutely stupid. There’s no way anything’s going to happen. At all.”
I tried to immerse myself in the latest project proposal from the Paragon City Planning Committee. Something about fixing up Baumton, in time for some event which would co-incide with the opening of Wentworths. Pushing my glasses up to my forehead, I sighed. I had absolutely no idea when the Tucker Foundation had become a source of income for Paragon, but it was getting a little bit silly. I mean, the Foundation had almost single-handedly funded the rebuilding of Overbrook, which was still an on-going task. It had cost millions of dollars just to get the small section that was habitable up and running, and it was barely a third done. On top of that, they wanted Baumton redone as well?

I had created the Foundation to pay for a better way of life for people adversely affected by the war. Yeah, so Paragon was hit worse than anywhere else, but…there’s a huge difference between helping a child with no surviving family be able to get proper medical attention and attend a decent university, and letting a certain Italian restaurant open up.
Admittedly, I was fond of Bianco’s, as well as it’s always joyful owner, Melissa – who always insisted that I never had to pay for anything, which was nice of her.
‘Speaking of Bianco’s’ I thought to myself, ‘I think it’s time for lunch.’.
I sent a quick e-mail to my assistant, asking for an order of the Farro al Nero di Seppia, and leaned back in my chair, lost in thoughts.

Just then, the clock chimed noon.

“That’s odd.” I said out loud. “My clock doesn’t –have- a chime…” My voice drifted off as I thought about the possibilities.
“Oh, no.”

There was a faint knock on my window. I knew…just knew…it was going to be the first ghost that Sammy had promised would show. Turning around slowly, I caught my first glimpse of the vision in front of me, and frowned. That was no ghost.

I opened my window, and leaned out. “Excuse me, but do you have an appointment?”
The man in front of me, gleaming white and silver, chuckled. “Nope.”
“Then, would you mind terribly making one, if you want to talk to me? I’m in the phone book.”
The man smiled at me easily. “I just wanted to see if you wanted to team up and go to Crey’s Folly. Lots of Rikti Monkey sightings have been reported at the Paragon Water Works. Easy pickings, too – we’ll get a lot of acclaim and influence for five minutes work; a real bargain.”
“Some other time, perhaps.”
“Oh, come on, Guardian. Come to The Works and get a bargain.”
I chuckled. “Some other time, Weas.”
My friend shrugged, and flew off, allowing me to close my window. Shaking my head, I turned around, and stared right into the face of Mike Anson.

“Hello, Jason. Sorry I’m late, but getting here…well, that was absolute murder.”

***

Mike looked very much like he did the last time I’d seen him. Unfortunately for me, the last time I saw him, I had fired a bullet right between his eyes, and his ghost still bore the wound. His mouth was the only part of him that looked even remotely normal…the upper part of his face had caved in, and although he was translucent, I could clearly see ghostly worms and maggots feeding on what was left of his spectral brain, and clear through his skull.

It put me off the very thought of eating – at least for the next few decades or so.

“You’re the first ghost Sammy told me about, then?”
Mike clapped slowly, a difficult task in and of itself, since his arms had been twisted at grotesque angles. “I’ll give you this much, Jason, your keen powers of observation have served you well.” He looked around the office. “This is what you’ve done to my office, is it?”
I snorted. “My office, which you stole from me, and no. This is a different building, in Overbrook.”
“Where?”
“Faultline.”
“Ahh, yes.” Mike made a show of examining his nails. “How very exciting it must all be for you.”
I sighed. “Mike…or should I call you Anthony?”
He grinned, and his whole face twisted when he smiled. It wasn’t a pleasant sight. “Whichever one will serve you best.”
“Mike, then.”
“So be it.”
“What’re you here to tell me, or show me?”
“Ah. I’m here to explain to you the true meaning of Christmas.”
Rolling my eyes, I shook my head. “I’m Jewish, Mike. I don’t care about the true meaning of Christmas.”
“Of course you do. Everyone does.” He reached out with his mangled arm. “Take my hand – we’re going to take a little stroll into the past.”
I eyed his hand nervously, and Mike must have seen my expression, although I don’t know how he could have, since he had no eyes.
“Don’t give me that. Stop being such a baby, and take my hand!”
“Fine!” I grabbed his hand, and I shivered uncontrollably. Whereas Sammy’s ectoplasmic body was certainly unpleasant after he had been ripped apart by my ceiling fan, it still felt like, well, Sammy – as if the very essence of Sammy Edwards were made real. Mike, on the other hand, felt…cold. As if evil itself had been made a tangible thing you could touch, and pick up, and hold. If this was the distilled essence of Mike Anson, then I should have killed him long before I did.

“Close your eyes.”
“What?”
He sighed, a long, drawn out breath that chilled me when it hit me.
“I said, close your eyes, Tucker.”
I closed my eyes, sighing a breath of my own. “This is a pointless exercise.”
“Open them.”
My eyes flew open in an instant. “See, was that…really…necessary…?”
I looked around. This was…well…impossible!
Mike noticed my shock, and smiled again. I had to repress a shudder.
“That’s right, Tucker. Welcome home.”

We were in a small office building overlooking the Hitchin Town market square. I rushed to the nearest window, and stared out of it in wonder. “Look!” I pointed. “There’s the Coach & Horses! I used to drink there every Thursday night. Great karaoke.” I gestured to the right. “And there’s the pizzeria I used to eat at.” I blinked. “Hang on…this must be S.I.B!”
“That’s right.”
“The market research company I worked at through college. But…this place closed down a few years ago. It said in the papers that nobody really cared about S.I.B anymore.”
“And yet,” Mike made a grand gesture with his arms, “Here we are.” He smirked. “Or, to be more precise, Tucker…there you are.”
I looked over my shoulder, and, sure enough, wearing an ill-fitting navy suit…was me.
“I don’t believe it.”
Mike came up to stand alongside me. “Neither do I. Blue is certainly not your colour. Then again, it suits you better than black and red.”
I glanced over at my old enemy. “Don’t you have better things to do than critique my fashion sense?”
“Nope. Not until you go into that office, there, anyway.”
“The office?” I stared blankly, then looked over to where the old wall-clock used to sit. Sure enough, it was there, displaying the time, as well as the date.
“Oh, no.”
“Oh, yes.” Mike smirked at me. “You’re about to be fired. On Christmas Eve, no less.”
“I stand by my choice, you know. Even now.”
“Good for you. Want to go in and watch you get canned? Again?”
Before I could answer, Mike walked right past me. “Come on, hurry up! If we’re quick, we can watch it from the beginning!” He ran through the wall, passing as easily through it as…well, the bullet had gone through his skull. I sighed, and walked towards the wall. Putting my hand up to test it, I found it to be solid.
“You need to build up momentum.” Mike said, sounding muffled through the glass. Inside, I could see my younger self being told off by my manager.
I nodded, backed up, and ran, full force, into the wall.
Which I then rebounded right off, collapsing in a heap. Mike opened the office door, and beckoned me inside.
“That hurt, dammit.” I scowled.
“Call it revenge.”
“For what?”
Mike seemed to glare at me for a second. “Oh, I don’t know. How about shooting me in the face?”
I sighed. “Let it go.”
He shrugged, and helped me to my feet. We went inside, just as my old manager, Mr Foster, was finishing up his speech.
“…It’s totally unacceptable. What were you thinking, Tucker?”
My younger self shrugged. “It’s Christmas Eve, sir. People want to spend time with their families, not be on the phone answering questions.”
“It’s Christmas Eve, Tucker, which means people will be at home with their families, which means that our entire demographics can be hit in one night! It’s a busy night, and everyone else is hard at work, getting their bonuses. What are you doing?”
“Well, sir, I’m…”
“You’re doing nothing, Tucker. Not for S.I.B anymore, anyway. I’m sorry, but your attitude is terrible. Hand in your headset, and clear out your desk.”
The younger me stared at Mr Foster for a second, and I shook my head. “What an [censored].”
“He has a good sense for business, Jason, like it or not.”
“I’ll choose not.”
I walked out of the office in disgust. “Didn’t Foster die a few weeks after this?” I eyed the wall-clock. “Caught some weird bug and just keeled over at his desk?”
“Something like that, yeah.” Mike said, still in the office.
“What’re you doing?”
Mike picked up Fosters cup of coffee, and spat in it. “Oh, nothing.”
I stared. “What…did you just do?”
He grinned. “Some weird bug, you say? Just died, in a few weeks?”
“You….you didn’t.”
He clapped me on the shoulder. “You’re welcome.” He grabbed my hand, without warning, and I felt the ground lurch beneath me. The world span, and we were suddenly back in my office.
“Oops. Should have warned you to close your eyes again. That was my fault, sorry.”
I shook my head. “So, what was the point of that little visit?”
Mike just grinned. “You’ll figure it out, eventually, Tucker.” He looked up at my clock. “My, my, look at that. Nearly time for your next appointment. I hear Edwards has arranged something really special, too.” He chuckled. “You take care, Tucker. And I think I’ll be seeing you, real soon.”

Before I could ask what Mike meant by that, he’d already vanished, leaving just two more words floating in the air.

“Real soon.”

Chapter Three

1:47pm

Hang on…that took two hours? I glanced at my desk, and saw my cold Italian lunch sitting there.
‘Weird.’ I thought, then shrugged it off. ‘No matter. I wonder what this “something special” that Sammy cooked up is.’
“Maybe it’s Rikti.” I reasoned to myself. “Or maybe Hero One!”
I pondered over this slowly, as I sat at my desk and cut up the calamari on my desk, popping a bit into my mouth.
“I know…it’s Sammy. In a wig.”
There was a knock at my door, and I sighed. “Come in.”
The door opened, and in entered Sarriss, my partner. “Hey Jay.”
“Hey Sarriss. Nice get-up.”
“Thanks.” She mock curtsied, and sat down opposite me, stealing some squid as she did.

She was certainly dressed strangely, for her. Usually clad in a tight green and brown spandex one-piece, with a minimum of make-up (not that she needed much), she sat before me wearing a dull beige overcoat, had a tiara in her hair, and wore silver eye-shadow. She’d also applied something to her skin which made it seem lighter, and little silver sparkles glimmered at me from her cheeks.
“You’re a bit overdressed for the Christmas Party later, aren’t you?”
She grinned. “You like it?”
“It’s…different.” I allowed. “What’s with the mac?”
“It keeps me warm.”
“Okay.” I shrugged. “Man, you wouldn’t believe the day I’m having.”
“A bit odd, is it?” She smiled warmly.
“Something like that, yeah.”
She nodded. “Understandable. Christmas is always an interesting time of year. Full of laughter, and joy ever after…ours for the taking.”
“Just follow the master?” I grinned wryly.
“What?”
“Oh, nothing.” I chuckled. “So, you were saying?”
“Well, it’s a time where the world seems magical.” She threw her arms out wide. “Where anything is possible, absolutely anything. People can be nice to each other for a change, even fall in love.” She winked at me, and I shifted in my seat slightly. I knew she had feelings for me, but it was improper, despite being relegated to the couch until the New Year. She continued, oblivious to my discomfort. “The old and the new all coming together, and the ghosts of the past all surround us…”
“Wait, what?”
She lost her smile slightly. “The ghosts of the past?”
“Yeah, that. What makes you say that?”
She grinned toothily at me. “Maybe it’s because I’m getting into the Christmas spirit! Or maybe it’s because I know the true meaning of Christmas. Or maybe…just maybe…” She stood, and flung her overcoat off.
“Maybe it’s because I’m your next appointment.”

I stared at Sarriss.
Well, to be more precise, I stared at her clothing. What little there was of it, anyway.

Sarriss had always had a strange modesty about her body. I understood her reason for it – she had grown up an ugly duckling, and an attempted murder had caused her to receive her super-strength and reflexes, and also mutilated her. Although plastic surgeons had given her a new face, and her new metabolism had burned a lot of fat away from her system, she still always saw herself as a dumpy, unattractive woman.
The woman in front of me, however, wore silver bikini briefs, and a tight silver sports bra which did absolutely nothing to disguise her large chest. She smiled at me, and winked.
“Sammy wanted you to have a better looking guide than Anson was.”
“Yeah, but…” I found my voice. “You’re not dead.”
She laughed, a strange, lilting laughter which I’d never heard from her before.
“Not quite, no. “
“Then how…?”
She span around in a graceful pirouette, and beamed at me. “Ghosts are dead. They’re of the past – it’s all they can ever know. They have no brain functions, and can’t learn. They’re incapable of it.”
“Okay, so what are you.”
“I’m…me!” She laughed, and danced around me happily.
“Right, but that doesn’t help.”
“I’m borne of each moment, in every place, at every time. I’m the Spirit of Now, and the now is Christmas!”
“I’m sorry, but…if you’re the Spirit of Now, then why do you look like my friend?”
“Your dead companion, Sammy, pulled my form out of the thoughts and dreams of your Sarriss Groundwalker.”
“Dreams? It’s two pm!”
The Spirit shrugged. “She’s sleeping in. It’s Christmas Eve.”
“So I keep hearing.”
“Sleeping in, and having some very…interesting dreams.” She winked at me again.
‘Great.’ I mused to myself. ‘I have proposals a read, a wife who’s annoyed with me, and now I have to deal with a horny spirit. I don’t have time for this.’
“I don’t have time for this.”
“Ahh, but Jay, honey. We have all the time in the world.” Not-Sarriss snapped her fingers, and…nothing happened.
“See?”
I looked around. “See what?”
“I just stopped time.”
I nodded slowly. “Of course you have.”
“Oh, Jay!” She tittered, and pranced around me. “You’re so disbelieving. Trust me, I stopped time for everyone but us.”
“Prove it.”
She stopped dancing, and stood in front of me, crossing her arms and pouting. “What?”
“Prove that you’ve stopped time.”
She smiled slightly. “Check your watch.”
As I rolled up my shirt sleeve, she shook her head. “Humans. So mistrustful. With all the wonders you’ve seen, and heard, and experienced, you still don’t believe me when I say I can stop time?”
I looked at my watch, and sighed. “Okay, so you’ve stopped time. Either that, or you’ve stopped my watch – I can’t decide which would be more irritating.”
The Spirit scowled, and grabbed me by my hair.
“Look, you little human whelp. It’s Christmas time, it’s a time for joy, and laughter, and presents, and happiness, so stop being a grouch and bloody well celebrate it!”
She let go, and I rubbed my scalp. “That was unseasonable, wouldn’t you say?”
“What was?” She smiled innocently, and resumed dancing around my office.
I sighed. “Look, can you just show me whatever it is you want to show me so we can get on with this?”
She stopped, made a show of thinking it over, and grinned. “Okay.” And made an adjustment to her costume.
“Yes, those are nice,” I started, averting my eyes, “But can we get back to the reason you’re actually here?”
“Oh, fine.” I heard her remark, and a few moments later, she giggled. “I put them away now, you can look.”
I rolled my eyes, and turned back to her. “You’re worse than Sammy.”
Her grin got bigger. “Why, thank you! Well, shall we get started?”
“Oh, Christ yes.”
“Well, then, take my hand…unless there’s another body part you want to grab?”
“Your hand is fine.” And I firmly grabbed her hand.

Lurching, room spinning…yes, yes, yes, I’ve done this, it’s no big deal…and then, suddenly, we were in a well lit room, where a small child sat, hunched up into a ball, with her head on her arms.
I frowned, and nodded over to her. “What’s her story?”
“Hmm?”
I looked over to the Spirit, who was busy swinging our held hands back and forth. “Her story. Who is she?”
“Ohh, I forget her name.”
“Well, you’re a great carer, aren’t you?”
She squeezed my hand, hard, and I let out a yelp. “Watch it, Jason.”
“Okay, okay. So, why is she here?”
She let up pressure on my hand, and shrugged slightly. “She’s an orphan. This is one of the orphanages that your Foundation set up and maintains. The first one, in fact.”
“It is?” I looked around at the clean, tidy room the girl was in. There were toys, games, and posters dotted around the room, and it looked like a very nice, cheerful place. “I see it’s money well spent, then.”
The spirit scowled at me. “Not enough money well spent, if you ask me.”
“What do you mean?”
The Spirit let go of my hand, and clicked her fingers. Suddenly, the room, the girl, and noises outside all came to life, as if I were watching a movie suddenly start after being paused. The girl was, as I had surmised, crying softly in her room, and there was a knock at the door.
“Cheryl? Can I come in?”
The girl, Cheryl, lifted her head up, and sniffed once. “Sure.”
The door opened, and a large black woman came in, sporting a smile which I’m sure must have hurt her face, but she didn’t seem to care. She was decked out in festive finery, from her flashing reindeer earrings, to her Santa hat, all the way down to her red and white stripped leggings.
“Cheryl, what’s the matter?”
Cheryl shrugged. “I just miss my parents.”
“Oh, Cheryl, honey.” The black woman walked through me, and sat down on the bed next to Cheryl, putting a meaty arm around her. “They’d want you to be happy. You’re safe, you’re warm, that nice Mr Tucker made sure you’re going to get a good education – a full scholarship!”
I couldn’t resist myself. I turned to face the Spirit, and I stuck my tongue out.
“Yes, well done, Jason, you’re a real Saint. But what about more…immediate needs?”
“Such as?” I crossed my arms, and smirked at the Spirit, who merely shook her head.
“Come on, Cheryl, cheer up.” The woman said kindly. “You’ve got lots of friends here, and tomorrow we’re having a huge meal, with more than enough food for everyone. There’ll be games to play, a band’s coming for us to dance, too. Tomorrow’s going to be wonderful, just like last year, and the year before.”
“Yeah, I know. But…it’s not right, having Christmas without any good presents.”

The Spirit snapped her fingers again, and the world, once again, froze. She approached me, and jabbed a finger into my chest.
“It isn’t right, having Christmas without any presents, she said.”
I stared. “She gets presents. All the orphans do. She said good presents. I’m sorry I can’t individually pick out presents for each orphan based on what their parents would have gotten them, but that would be impossible to do!”
The Spirit looked at me mournfully, and turned her back on me, as if I’d offended her.
I was about to protest, but a thought occurred to me.

“Wait. Wait, hang on, here. Is that what you’re trying to tell me? That Christmas is all about…commercialism? Toy trends, and selfishness?”
“Duh.”
“What about all that…‘peace on Earth’ stuff? Season of goodwill, and all that? What about Belleau Wood in World War One?”
The Spirit sniffed softly, and I realised that, somehow, in some way, I’d upset her. I put a hand on her shoulder.
“Spirit, are you crying?”
“No.” She stamped her foot. “Yes. I mean…” She turned to face me. “All I ever wanted for Christmas was a single, solitary Barbie doll I could dress up. But my parents…”
“Spirits have parents?”
“No, you idiot, Sarriss’ parents. The Wilks?”
“Ohh, right.”
“They said that Barbie wasn’t a ‘real’ woman, she was an idealised idea of beauty, made into plastic and rubber, and mass-marketed for people with no sense. She had no flaws, no imperfections…”
“I dunno.” I smiled at her. “Her feet were tiny.”
She laughed. “True. But, I mean…a Barbie doll? And I was refused that? Now I have to watch other people go through the same fate?” She shrugged. “Christmas is about being with family, yeah. But it’s mostly about getting cool stuff, and feeling important, and special, and cool.”
She sighed, and smiled slightly. “Tell you, what, though.”
“What?” I smiled back.
“Look up.”
I did as she said, and saw…
“Oh, no.”
“Yup.” She wrapped her arms around my shoulders, and grinned. “Merry Christmas.”
Then she kissed me, and, as the room span, I really and truly hoped it was because I was being sent back to my office.

Chapter Four

3:27pm

I landed, with a jolt, back in my chair in my office. Looking around, I saw no sign of the Spirit, although I was sure that the mistletoe hanging directly over my chair was a souvenir from her. I know I sure as hell didn’t put it up there.

Checking the time on my wallclock (I didn’t trust my watch anymore, since the Spirit had made it stop) I saw that it was nearly half past three. Although I’d made it clear to everyone in the Foundation that I wanted them out of the building and with their families by 3pm, I decided to take a stroll through the building anyway, to see what I could see. Although I wasn’t against anyone staying late to work overtime, I had made it abundantly clear that it wasn’t mandatory.

Walking through the Foundation, I felt a sense of peace that I had been lacking since Sammy’s visit. Here we were working to achieve a safer, cleaner Paragon, and no matter what any ghosts, spirits, or ghouls tried to tell me, I know that it was the most important thing I could be doing. A great man once wrote that there’s nothing more calming than the influence of money. I prefer to think that there’s nothing more calming than the influence of money doing something good. If it’s just sitting there doing nothing, it’s pointless. On the far wall was a quote I recognised instantly, given that I had made it, during my first public appearance as the Foundation’s owner.

“No more children will go hungry because they’ve lost their parents. No other people will have to resort to joining street gangs for shelter, or robbing people for money.”

It was the main creed of the Foundation these days, and words that everyone tried hard to live by. More than anything else, I wanted that to be my legacy when I finally die. It was a feeling that underlined my last ‘funeral’, even if it wasn’t me in the coffin, and I really liked my eulogy. Looking around the top floor of offices, I fought hard to restrain my smile, then gave up, and let it out. Shaking my head at my own enthusiasm, I headed to the elevator, and pressed the button to go down to the company gym. All of this supernatural trickery had made me really want to hit something.

As the elevator doors parted on the fourteenth floor, I peered out into the darkness. I sighed. “The janitors must have assumed nobody was still in the building, and turned the lights off.” I mumbled to myself. No matter, though. I switched my night vision on, and…

“Huh. Odd.” The area in front of me was still pitch black.

Now, something which you may, or may not, know about night vision is that it doesn’t let you see in absolute darkness. Instead, it picks up on low level ambient light, and magnifies it – so, if I stood in a windowless room that was pitch black, I wouldn’t be able to see anything. However, the two-storey gym had high windows all around, and I was still picking up some light from the open elevator doors. In other words, I should have been able to see. Flexing my hand twice, I called the Fire Sword igniter into standby mode, and stepped out into the total darkness, as the lift doors slid shut behind me. Squeezing the igniter, the Fire Sword erupted into…nothingness. It wasn’t as if it wasn’t working, as I could feel the slight vibration of the unit emitting the contained ‘flame’…however, I could neither see, nor hear it. I edged backwards, to press my back against the elevator doors, only to discover that they, and the surrounding wall, had vanished.

I was all alone, in the pitch black darkness of nothingness.

The nothingness, however, seemed to lighten slightly, and I could start to discern shapes, and smell…things. Experimentally, I switched off my night vision, and looked around. I appeared to be standing on a grassy hill, overlooking a large patch of land with solid black shapes in the ground. I started my way towards it, when I noticed another shape out of the corner of my eye. A shape that started to move towards me, slowly. Shivering, I turned to face it, and watched its’ slow approach.

Looming over me by several feet (hey, I’m only 5’9) was a black robed, hooded individual, who was floating off the ground. I tried to look under the recesses of the hood, to see who it was, before shrugging it off.
“Sorry, man, I don’t have any change.”
The hooded figure did not move. I shook my head. “At least the last two had a sense of humour. You are the third ghost, I presume?”
Slowly, the hood bobbed down, and then up.
“Great. Let’s get this done, shall we? I have a party to get to.”
The figure slowly shrugged, and pointed off in the distance, away from the area I had been looking in.
“What? You want me to go this way?”
The figure nodded once again, slowly, so I walked in the direction it pointed, feeling its’ presence close behind me. I really didn’t care so much, until I felt its’ fingers on my shoulder. Turning to look, I saw glistening and shiny bones where its hand should be. The whole area span and lurched, and then I found myself…
…In my apartment. Looking around, I saw no glance of the ghost…or even of my furniture. The whole apartment was decorated differently, with beiges, wooden paneling – all stuff that might sound tacky to you, but was pretty much how I wanted things to be, before Emily had gotten through with her ‘all white’ furnishing kick. I nodded to myself. “Looks like Em finally came around to see things my way.” I smirked. “And why not? I am the man of the house.”
Then I quickly glanced over my shoulder, to make sure that she wasn’t around to hear me say such things.

What? I’m not stupid.

I heard a door click open, and before I could move, I saw an older version of me step into the room, closely followed by that damned ghost.
“Hey!” I called to it. “Looks like you messed up. Aren’t I supposed to be dead?”
The ghost merely stared at me.
“Don’t give me that.” I snorted. “I must have read A Christmas Carol a hundred times. Isn’t Scrooge supposed to be dead and unloved in the future you show him? You lose, matey.”
The ghost remained immobile, and I took a nice, leisurely walk around the apartment, stepping to one side so that the future version of myself could sit down on the dark brown leather sofa. “Ah, yes, I’ve beaten the Christmas Spirits. Ho ho ho, and all that. I win, you lose, I rock, you suck.”
The ghost gestured to the future version of myself, and I turned to the sofa, to see myself…crying, and holding a picture frame to his chest.
“What? What’s that for?” I asked my future self, frowning, not caring that he couldn’t hear me. However, the forlorn figure looked up, and turned to face me. I stared down at his eyes, which were disfocused…no, he wasn’t looking at me, just in my direction.
“You’re probably here now. Good.”
I blinked.
“I can’t hear you, or see you, but I can remember.” He smiled wryly. “I remember how sure I was that the third ghost was wrong, that I’d been proven right.” He sniffed back tears, and shook his head. “The ghosts are never wrong, believe me.
“Emily’s dead.”

I looked down in horror, and noticed that the future version of me was wearing a black suit, and a dark grey shirt, which had a large rip in the chest. “Because of my…your…our” my future self corrected himself “obsession with providing the basics for other people, Emily took little Sammy and left me a few years ago. I didn’t pay enough attention to either one of them, and Sammy had miserable holidays. He was bullied at school because he didn’t have the newest and best things, and so Emily took him away from us. They were at a toy shop buying him presents, and had come out when a drunk driver hit them both.” He shook his head. “Don’t let this happen, Jason!”
He tried to say more, but was overwhelmed by tears, and curled up on the sofa.

I turned back to the ghost. “Let’s go.”

***

“Where are we?” I looked around. “This isn’t my office, this is…hey, this is the orphanage I was just in!” I looked around – although I couldn’t be totally sure, it looked reasonably similar to the room I had been in earlier with the Spirit who had looked like Sarriss. “What’re we doing here?”
The door swung open, and an elderly man was escorting a young girl into the room. “This will be your room, Daphne.” He patted her shoulder. “Sorry, we haven’t had the time or the staff to get things cleaned away yet, but since The Tucker Foundation closed, our funding’s been cut dramatically.”
The girl nodded slowly, and looked around. “Who used to live here, Mister?”
“A girl named Cheryl.” The man removed his glasses. “She…we try to do our best here, Daphne, and look after all our charges, but Cheryl wasn’t…she wasn’t the nicest person. There was an incident a few days ago. Cheryl’s been taken off to a Juvenile Detention Facility – don’t worry yourself too much about it.”

Darkness started to overtake me again, and I looked at the ghost. “What sort of incident?”
The ghost looked at me for a moment, then reached up it’s skeletal hands to its’ hood, and pulled it away.

Emily stared down at me, her face pale, waxy…dead.
“The sort of incident that follows you around everywhere, Jay.”

There was nothing else for me to do. I screamed.

Chapter Five

4:00pm

By the time I’d finished screaming, I’d noticed that I was back in my office, in my chair, and there were no signs of ghosts, ghouls, goblins, or anything else that goes bump in the night.
bump
“Son of a…” I shot up from my chair, and swung the door wide, to come face to face with…
“Evening, Mr Tucker. Is everything alright in here?”
A night-watchman peered over my shoulder.
“Uhh…yes, everything’s fine…” I glanced at his nametag, “Dave. Just a little surprised to see the time fly by.” I smiled. “Nothing to worry about.” I paused. “Why’re you here? I thought that everyone had left for Christmas.”
Dave shrugged at me. “You know how it is, Mr Tucker. I need to pay for my kids presents, and the tree, the mortgage…that means working overtime and extra shifts.”
“Right…right.” I blinked, then reached for my wallet, handing a fistful of bills to the amazed security guard. “Go home, Dave.” I patted his shoulder. “Everyone should have Christmas without anything to worry about.” I smiled. “Believe me.”
“Yessir, Mr Tucker. Is…is there anything I can do for you?”
I grinned. “You know, what? I think there is.”

***

8:34pm

The Tuckers’ Christmas party was in full swing by eight pm, and now, over half an hour later, there were no signs it was letting up. Emily was serving beer to the guests, Sarriss (the real one, dear reader, I assure you) was sitting on a couch chatting amiably to Susan Daniels, her reporter friend from The Paragon Times, who had, after much convincing, left her Dictaphone and notebook at home. People stopped to admire baby Sammy, who had decided, in his baby-way, to stay up all night and watch the proceedings with curiousity. All the lights, sounds, and people fascinated his two month old mind, and he clapped and grinned at the jokes he could hear – prompting Doctor Wilks, an old friend of Jasons’, to make a statement about how Sammy was quite possibly the most intelligent baby in the world. Although he said it jokingly, Emily nodded sagely, as if she had long suspected this to be the case.

She glanced towards the elevator doors every now and then, concerned for her missing husband. Yes, she’d yelled at him, punched him in the face, and confined him to the couch for the next week, but she was still concerned. He hadn’t been himself since she’d gotten back from City Hall in the early morning, and whenever she’d gone down to his office to see him, after being assured that he hadn’t left the office, he was nowhere to be seen.
‘he was probably flying around to clear his head.’ she mused to herself. ‘It’s nothing to worry about.’
“So, Campbell.” Sarriss slurred, spilling off the couch and trying to straighten up. “Where’s that husband of yours?”
She shrugged. “I have no idea. He’ll be here soon, though.”
“Well.” Sarriss poked Emily’s ribs with the top of her beer bottle. “You said that half an hour ago.”
“Sarriss, come on. When’s Jay ever been on time?”
“Ahh.” Sarriss nodded slowly. “Good point, you know. Good point.”
The two women looked around the living room of the Tucker’s apartment, watching the other guests. One woman, who had only recently attained Security Level 50, was off in a corner, describing how she had beaten a foe with a power thrust to the face. In another area, a small group of men stood around a blonde woman dressed in white, black, and gold, who was bemoaning the tailor’s inability to produce a decent neckline in an outfit. The men, all trying to stare holes in her top, fervently agreed, producing a sigh from Emily.
“Why does Jason even invite her?”
Sarriss shrugged. “They’re friends.”
“Yeah, but…”
Sarriss smirked. “Em, you’re not jealous of her, are you?”
“What? Me? No.” Emily blurted out, too quickly. Sarriss was going to tease her somewhat, when a man strolled up, and in a thick European accent which neither of the ladies could place, asked where Jason was.
“He’s been detained because of work. He’ll be here soon, though.”
The man nodded. “Okay, mate. I’d like to really talk to him about doing an interview for the radio station.”
Sarriss’ eyes lit up. “You’re a DJ?”
“DJ and the station manager.” The man smiled and extended a hand, which Sarriss eagerly shook.
“Wow. Are you the morning show guy? I love him so much!”
“Err…no. But I can introduce you, if you like.” The man gestured to a group of individuals stood to one side, trying desperately to talk over not just the crowd, but one another as well. One of the people in the group, a young man who, Emily noted, bore a startling resemblance to Jason, looked at Sarriss and smiled. Sarriss turned to Emily, and winked. “Don’t wait up.”
As Sarriss was led away by the man with the funny accent, Emily heard the elevator door chime.
“He’s here!” Emily announced loudly, causing everyone to turn and look at her.
“The elevator door just dinged.”
Fifty Heroes turned to the door, raised their glasses and bottles, and in one voice shouted “Gratz!” One voice was heard to say “Gartz!” just afterwards, causing one gentleman to, as the door opened, turn and berate his friend who mispronounced the old toast. “Xanthus, you little piggy…”
Whatever the reply was going to be, Emily tuned it out as the doors slid open, and stepping out of the lift, was...
Was…
“Santa!” a few voices shouted cheerfully, waving. Jason strode out, in a Santa outfit, and waved back at the assembled group. “Where’s my ho, ho, ho at?”
As Emily walked towards him, Jason grinned. “Ah, here she is now. Hiya honey!”
“Jason Temple-Tucker, just where have you been?”
“Out.” Was the automatic reply.
“Out, you say? I’ve been trying to host a party with people I don’t even know. Your busty friend who complains about her costume is here, and the station manager for Evolution wants to talk to you about an interview…”
“Ooh!” Jason interrupted, smiling broadly. “With the morning show guy? I love him!”
“So does Sarriss. She’s over chatting him up.”
Jason laughed, and looked around. “Looks like a great party. Sorry I’m late, I had to take care of a few things.”
“Such as?”
Jason winked. “I think I just personally bought every toy in Paragon City for the orphanages, for the staff to distribute to orphans based on what they’d like the most. Also,” He hefted the sack on his shoulder, “A few knick-nacks for the crowd, here.”

As Jason began to dole out toys, games, and various items to the assembled guests, Emily noticed that her husband seemed a lot more relaxed, and cheerful about the thought of giving out presents over the holiday season. He had somehow, in one day, bought into the commercialism of Christmas, and it had changed him in a wonderful way.

Jason headed over to Sarriss, in the middle of a conversation with ‘the morning show’ guy, and tapped her on the shoulder.
“Excuse me for a moment.”
“Sure.” The DJ said, nodding.
Jason reached into his sack, and pulled out a pink gift-wrapped box. “Cara, this is for you.”
“Oh, Jay, thanks.” Sarriss smiled, and opened it eagerly, staring at the contents.
“A…a Barbie doll? How….how did you know?”
He winked. “Seemed you might want one. Merry Christmas. Oh, and…try to get me an autograph?”
Sarriss nodded, and, hugging the box, turned back to the DJ.
Jason went over to the tall blonde in the white costume, and handed her a penknife.
“What’s this for?” She frowned.
Jason beamed. “For cutting up your costume. Now you can make your own neckline.”
The woman laughed, and winked at Jason, who shook his head. “Stop winking all the time. It’s freaking creepy.”

He doled out presents for the next hour or so, with gifts ranging from a radio controlled Titan robot to the new Level 50 (“I thought you might like a mini Giant-Stompy-Robot” was the explanation he gave) to a book for his friend dressed in white and silver, whom he had seen earlier in the day. To Weasel’s girlfriend, he gave a pair of bright red speedo’s, which Weasel eyed hungrily.
“No, they’re not for you.” His girlfriend scowled.
“Ah-hah.” He retorted. “We’ll see about that.”

Finally, Jason returned to his wife, and gave her a small gift, which she opened curiously. Laughing, she dangled her new pair of purple-coloured furry handcuffs on one finger, which gained a lot of hooting and hollering.
“Jay, they’re perfect. But…”
Jason frowned. “But what?”
Emily smirked. “You’re on the couch for the week, remember?”

Everyone laughed, and Jason chuckled, grabbing a glass of champagne.
“Everyone, if I can have your attention please?” Once he saw that everyone was looking at him, he raised his glass. “Now, I know you guys think I like making long winded and ultimately pointless speeches, so I’ll make this quick.” He ignored the snorting and good natured jokes which filtered through. “Christmas is traditionally a time of love, and laughter, and family, and friends. Since my family and friends are all here, that only leaves one thing. The giving. Christmas isn’t just about remembering the birth of a baby over 2,000 years ago, it’s about something a lot more important, and fundamental.
“Getting really awesome presents.”

Everyone cheered, and Jason smiled. “Merry Christmas, everyone.”

The others all drank, and they continued the party long into the night.

The End

***

From me, I hope everyone’s had a great Christmas, and that you all party hard, but safely, into 2007. With all of us playing the game, and being on the forums, I can’t think of a more fun way to spend my free time. It’s a testament to how great this game is, that it attracts such a terrific community, and whether anyone thinks people are cliquish, standoffish, or whatever, it only takes a few minutes to realise that everyone here is basically a good person, and concerned with the community on the whole. And, on the whole, I think our community is terrific.

FG will return in the New Year with Dark Mirror, and I’ll return as soon as NTL stops messing around with my connection.

Again, have a very merry Christmas.

--BF