And now.... It's time for the most ELECTRIFYING holiday in sports entertainment... A VERY ULTRA CHRISTMAS An Ultra group-omake written by (in no particular order) Yun Cheolsu The Eternal Lost Lurker Mervyn the Wonder Slug Kristen Smirnov Brian Stricklin Anonymous =-=-=-=-=-=-= 'Twas the night before Christmas, and all through the... On second thought, let's not do that. Controversial Jack clicked the little icon on his screen and watched happily as his printer went to work. The file he needed would, once it was done, use enough paper to kill a small forest. Which, of course, was an added bonus. He spun around in his executive chair, making 'whoosh!' noises. He'd made his list (and checked it twice). Now he just had to wait a little longer, and then he'd show Tokyo the REAL meaning of Christmas. It made him sick, just thinking about all the merchandising going on out in the streets, all the happy day-glo colored boxes displaying popular anime figures, people clawing and pummeling each other to get that ONE LAST DAMN CHARIZARD HOLOGRAPHIC CARD BECAUSE THEIR KID NEEDS IT... Normally, he'd approve. But this year the crass commercialism got on Jack's nerves, for one very simple reason... The phone next to his computer rang, and he casually grabbed the receiver as he spun by. Since he'd bought a cord twenty meters long, this didn't interfere with his rotational pasttime. "Speak or die, puny worm." "Uh... are you Mr. Lysias?" "I'm wearing his underwear, so I'd better be." "...right. This is the Gore'n'Giggle Toy company calling." "Oh, yeah!" Jack stopped spinning and enjoyed the resulting disorientation. "I've been getting kind of worried that my shipment won't get here in time." "Well, there's a problem. I'm afraid our lawyers forbid us from making your order, let alone shipping it." "Say WHAT?! Why? The kids are counting on those toys!" The man on the other end cleared his throat. "Um, they felt that sending out toys like 'The official Ultra Home Taxidermy Kit', 'Genuine Stab'n'Spurt Sephiroth and Aeris doll set (with almost-real blood)', and the 'Ultra Roll-Your-Own-Cigarette Gift Box' would probably bring some major lawsuits down on us. Sorry. We'll refund your order, of course." After he hung up the phone, Jack stood and walked down to the Ultradome's mighty garage. Well, that was annoying. Now all those kids would have to go without their official Ultra merchandise - which, after they'd torn the boxes open, their parents would *have* to pay for. Ah, well. He opened the access door to the garage, and was greeted by what can only be described as thunderous yapping. A full eight thousand chihuahuas were there, hooked up to a eighteen-wheeled sleigh. Jack shook his head. He'd just finished strapping the little reindeer horns on them, too... =-=-=-=-=-=-= "Ho ho ho!" "Here we go!" "To protect children from lumps of coal!" "To unite all reindeer at the North Pole!" "To extend our credit to the 10 K line!" "To steal kids' stockings and make them mine!" "Jessie!" "James!" "Team Rocket, sleigh off at the speed of light!" "Rotten Christmas to all, and to all a bad night!" "Meowth! That's right!" Jessie looked crossly down at Meowth, who returned her glare with a shrug. "What?" She sniffed. "We are trying to get into the Christmas spirit here, and you went and ruined our speech!" Motioning over to the sniffling figure next to her, she added, "See how upset James is?" "...We're too early to see Santa Claus!" Muttering under her breath, Jessie hit James over his candy-colored head with her armful of bags. "For the last time, we are shopping! We don't have time for anything else; it's already Christmas Eve!" James' lower lip trembled. "But...when we were in New York, they told me that going to see Santa was an important part of Christmas! Do you know what happens when you see Santa, Jessie?" "What, James? What happens?" "He'll give you anything you want! All you have to do is ask!" There was a short pause as Jessie considered this, and the statuesque woman quickly came to the same conclusion James had. "If we can see this Santa Claus...we can finally get that brat's Pikachu!" "It's a foolproof plan, Jessie!" "Oh, let's go get in line, James! I want to be the first to meet Santa! ...Does he have a desk you sit at, or is it over-the-counter service?" As the two walked off, chattering excitedly, Meowth sighed. He didn't get paid nearly enough to deal with this. ***ho***ho***ho*** The department store employee hesitantly approached the tall duo at the head of the line. "Uh, excuse me...are you two of the, er, elves?" Jessie smoothed her red-and-green version of her normal uniform over her curves; James, of course, completely failed to notice. "Do I look like an elf? Do elves have this much style?" "Well, you just seem a little, er, old to be in this line." "Are you calling me old?! I get enough of that from the brats, mister! It says meet Santa, and I'm gonna meet Santa!" Waving his hands placatingly, the employee nodded. "Of course, of course, miss...I mean, little girl. I'm sure Santa will make this a very merry Christmas for you." As the confused man walked off, Jessie shot a triumphant glance at James. "I can't believe it's going to be this easy!" "I know, Jessie! To think, we could had Pikachu in our grasp simply by asking a big man in a red suit!" Jessie considered this. "I don't think Bison would have helped us, James." The buzz of excited children behind them drew their attention, and they turned to see a suited figure walking heavily towards the sugarplum and nutcracker-topped throne. A store attendant removed the velvet rope between the queue and the jolly old elf. James looked at Jessie. Jessie looked at James. "Me first!" "ME! Me me me!" After much bickering, James finally scrambled over to Santa. First turning to shoot a triumphant glare at Jessie, he walked over to the bearded man, looking down at him. Santa sweatdropped. "Hello there, uh, little boy. Here, have a candy cane." James looked askance at him. "If I take it, then do I not get my present?" The sweatdrop grew, breaking off and shattering on the floor like a dropped ornament. An elf swore under his breath and whipped out a wisk broom. "Ho ho ho, of course not. This is just something extra." "Oh. Well, thank you. Here." James thrust a rose into Santa's face, who blinked. "...And thank you, little boy. Now..." Santa stopped to swallow. "Now sit in Santa's lap, and tell him what you want for Christmas." James blinked at the man, then turned to shoot a questioning glance at Jessie. She motioned him forward impatiently. With a shrug, James climbed onto Santa's lap, arranging himself accordingly. "Alright, Santa, I want-" "Ho ho ho, slow down, little boy. (Why do all the freaks come out at this time of year?) First off, have you been a good boy or a bad boy?" "What does that have to do with anything? I want that brat's Pikachu! Gimmee! Gimmee gimmee gimmee!" Santa fixed a stern glare an the demanding James. "Now, you won't get anything if you don't...." He trailed off as Jessie ran up to him, dismayed. While the pink-haired lady demanded to know why they wouldn't be getting presents, Santa stared up at her. More accurately, he stared up her green-and-red midriff top with a dazed expression on his face. Hey, the guy was only *dressed* like Santa. "You said you wanted Pikachu? Here, take him! Here's him, and Squirtle, and Vulpix, and, hell, take our special limited edition Mewtwo with the talking pokeball!" Jessie and James stared in pure bliss at the Pokemon merchandise Santa was literally dumping over their heads from his Big Velvet Bag Of Holiday Merchandisable Bliss, Y145,000. Not wanting to question their good fortune, they quickly gathered up the plushies - the fact that their acquisitions were stuffed with polyester fibers naturally escaped their notice - and ran off, leaving dozens of crying children in their wake. And, of course, one very happy Santa. As they walked out of the department store, Jessie cuddled an adorable little Starmie to her chest, eyes sparkling. "We've learned the true meaning of Christmas, James!" He nodded, and savagely attacked the wrapping of a Cubone doll (With real kung-fu bonk!). "Indeed we have, Jessie." As he extracted the doll, he paused, and turned. With a smile, he extended the plushie to his partner. "Merry Christmas, Jessie." She took it, a wondering smile on her face. "...Merry Christmas, James." Peace and love settled over the earth, and all was good and just. Snow began to fall to the earth, blanketing all with its crystalline purity. Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night. "NOW GIVE ME THAT PIKACHU!" =-=-=-=-=-=-= "Damned Cybergrrlz," Tron Bonne thought to herself, "Doesn't he even recognize me?" Tron realized around the twenty-third of December that taking a permanent job had one major drawback which she hadn't considered. For the first time in her life she had to spend Christmas without Teasel and Bomb. At first she thought Megaman might remember her and celebrate with her. Not that she was eager to spend time with him, of course. But it would have been nice to spend her holidays with someone who resembled a friend, even if their relationship hadn't started off on the right foot. Tron sighed and looked out of the window of the small apartment she rented in downtown Tokyo. It was within walking distance of the Ultradome, and from the window she could see the structure, which Jack had decorated in purple and orange with a large glowing statue of Mr. Duck dressed as Santa Claus on the roof. She turned away from the ridiculous (but controversial) sight and silently wondered what he was doing. ***** Megaman was on the other side of the island wondering how he wound up spending Christmas, not with Barrel and Roll like he originally planned, but in Okayama with... "Tenchi-samaaaaaaaaaa..." ...Washuu's friends. He had taken to sitting apart from the bunch with a blue-green haired woman named... Kiyane... Kiyoni... he was having trouble with the names. She, like him, just sat there quietly watching the insanity that was Aeka and Ryouko (he had learned those names easily enough) unfold before him. The little one, (Sashimi? That couldn't be right... Sasami! That was her name) offered the blue boy something to eat and offered to talk to him. She reminded him of Roll. "Why are you all alone over here?" she asked. Megaman sighed, "It looks dangerous over there," he replied with a slight grin. Sasami nodded. "I sought you were shome kind of great fighter?" the teal-haired one slurred. "Kiyone?" Sasami said concernedly. "S'what Washuu shaid," Kiyone said drunkenly. It was then that Megaman caught sight of what Kiyone had been consuming. If it was possible for a robot to bigsweat, he would have. "That's a lot of sake," Megaman thought. Sasami led Kiyone up to a bedroom upstairs while Megaman started thinking. He really didn't want to be here, but what other options were there. Roll and Barrel were spending the Holidays on Cattlelox, and he didn't know where Gally was. There wasn't anyone left for him to spend his time with except Washuu. Or was there? He mentally slapped himself for forgetting. She had been the one who had gotten him into the federation, and he had forgotten her when she was probably as lonely and lost as he was, if not moreso. He built up his resolve and stood up... It was time to leave. ***** Tron was starting to get tired of playing poker with the Legomen. When all one has is a legion of robots which are programmed to do nothing but obey one gets bored easily. When Tron Bonne was bored she built stuff. She stopped when she noticed that her latest creation was humanoid and tended to favor blue parts. She shook her head to clear it, "Why should I care?" she thought to herself, "It's not like we're friends or anything." Her bravado deflated quickly. Even the Legomen could see something was wrong as she collapsed on the floor. There was a knock on the door. "Go away," she responded, almost in tears. Two of the Legomen talked among themselves while another approached Tron with some trepidation. "Ms. Tron..." he said as she buried her face in her hands and started crying. "Leave me alone," she whispered, "Please just go away," she sobbed freely. The Legoman backed off slowly. Tron allowed her emotions to take control and collapsed into a blubbering heap. She felt a hand on her shoulder and stopped momentarily, vowing to deactivate the fool that had interrupted her release. "Are you alright," a voice which obviously did not belong to a Legoman asked from behind. She took a look at the hand which had touched her and couldn't help but notice its blue coloration. She gasped and turned to look into her guest's eyes. It was him. As she has been known to do on many occasions Tron suddenly assumed a cold exterior. "Who told you you could come in here?" "One of your robots let me in." "Hmph. I'm going to have to take a look at these guys. They're not following orders like they should be." "Do you want me to leave?" "Well, I suppose you can stay seeing as you came all the way from Okayama." "Thanks." Despite appearances she hadn't been happier since he had first shown up in the Ultradome asking her to help him get into the Omega division. As the night went on her facade dropped little by little. By the end of the night she had fallen asleep in his arms. He watched her sleep for a while before switching himself off for the night. By the glow of the ridiculous Santa Duck he had seen something he never expected to see. Tron Bonne was smiling. =-=-=-=-=-=-= The problem with this miserable planet, Sephiroth reflected, was an insufficiency of decent swordsmiths. A good swordsmith is essential when one is prone to carry a seven-foot sword, especially since the Masamune had of late displayed an annoying tendency to get caught in automatic revolving doors. It was now rather more angled than a proper sword should be. This was only the most recent affront to his dignity. He was still quite unhappy about having a standard steel folding chair forced down his throat on a broadcast being watched by approximately 93% of the known universe. Not to mention being dragged off by that B-ko bimbo; he had only vague memories of the evening after the chair incident, but had the unshakeable feeling that spandex had somehow been involved. But to return to the point, Sephiroth had a damaged sword and a foul mood, and neither was being helped by the solid mass of last-second holiday shoppers around him. For Sephiroth, poor fool, was at the mall. Why in heaven's name the most prominent weaponscrafter in a three-thousand-mile radius had elected to set up shop as Sharp Metal Things 'R' Us was beyond his capacity to fathom. It took him nearly an hour to get there from the food court, which was less than 60 yards away. Attempting to brandish the wounded Masamune had only left him open to vicious rib gouges from sweet little old ladies. Having dropped the Masamune off, he searched for a seat. All of the benches in the area were packed to capcity, but this was easily remedied by setting fire to one of them. After extinguishing the flames, he sat down and prepared to wait. Although Sharp Metal Things 'R' Us had a ready-in-an-hour policy, the sixty-person line of people stocking up in the event that Y2K caused their projectile weapons to malfunction suggested he would be there for a while longer. People avoided him, as the bench was still smoking gently, and that was fine with him. Sephiroth did not like Christmas. Aside from objections to celebrating the birth of any deity other than himself, he found it invariably caused the release of literally thousands of bad CDs, such as the one being piped though the extremely low-fi mall speakers. It consisted of jazzed-up versions of all the most tiresome seasonal songs. As soon as he got his sword back he was going to find Harry Connick, Jr. and remove his vocal cords. He also found that it brought back unpleasant childhood memories. All of his gift requests had been funneled though the Shinra Gift Selection Committee. Since Hojo was the head of the committee, what started off as, say, a stuffed moogle, a Chocobo Joe action figure, and a set of 1/35 soldiers invariably emerged as socks, a chemistry set, and 35 actual soldiers, which he was then expected to train. This had not added to his popularity with other children. Professor Gast had smuggled him a stuffed moogle once, but it had been discovered and confiscated almost immediately. It was possibly the low point of his entire childhood. After counting all the acoustic ceiling tiles five times, and hearing "Frosty the Snowman" in thirteen different guises, he shouldered his way back into Sharp Metal Things 'R' Us. A blind old man handed him his sword. The best ones were always blind, for some reason. "You'll be wanting to watch those revolving doors, young man," he said. "And elevators are tricky, too." Sephiroth nodded solemnly and paid the man, whose bank subsequently spent many fruitless hours trying to find out what exactly 15,000 gil was equivalent to. Rather than attempt to struggle through the crowd to the parking lot, Sephiroth simply blasted a hole in the roof and jumped out. In retrospect, that would have been the best way to enter, too. Hindsight is always 20/20. After securing the Masamune to the roof rack of his car (what, you thought he walked?) he opened the door and discovered a stuffed moogle sitting on the driver's seat. He picked it up and stared at it, puzzled. He squeezed it. "Kupo!" it said. There was a tag, but as it said only "Sorry," it wasn't very helpful. "I have no need of this," he said loudly, in case anyone was within earshot. "I shall toss it casually over my shoulder." He looked guiltily around the parking lot, then shoved the thing in his coat and got in the car. In the distance, two halo'd figures watched. "It's about 20 years late, I'm afraid," the one in the labcoat sighed. "That's okay, Dad," said Aeris. "It's the thought that counts. Besides, it's the least I could do after he got me such a wonderful gift," she beamed, showing Professor Gast her new set of monogramed shish-kebob skewers. =-=-=-=-=-=-= There's no place like home for the holidays... Which was the root of why Tifa was spending Christmas in Chicago. Bean had decided to spend Christmas back in America, visiting Rally and Mae, causing Percy to have a stroke. Being a nice enough guy, Bean had invited Tifa along. And although Bean's place was completely blocked off by Percy and the three-fourths of the Chicago PD he had managed to requisition to help arrest Bean, it was turning out to be a pleasant Christmas. And now, in the mid-afternoon of Christmas Eve, as the sun streamed through the front windows, Tifa found herself sitting in the dining room at the home of Bean's friends, watching Bean demolish a whole roast turkey and enough trimmings to feed a family of four. Tifa had spent most of the day helping Rally in the kitchen, which everyone was happy about, as Rally and Mae appeared to subsist entirely on pizza, soda, and beer, and would have been happy to have this as a Christmas repast. Fortunately, the everything had gone off without a hitch, and now Rally and Mae were listening to Tifa tell about a few of AVALANCHE's adventures in Midgar. "...and that was how we bombed the Sector 7 reactor." "Oh, cool!" Mae breathed. "Just think of the size of that explosion! What did you use in the bomb?" Before Tifa could answer, a shrill chirp interrupted. Bean set the ladle of mashed potatoes aside, and fished his cel phone out of his jacket. Flipping it open, he answered. "Yo..." Bean scowled, adding, "Don, you ever think of arranging this more than two hours beforehand?" Rally looked over at Tifa. "He gets this call every year," she explained. "Somehow this guy always manages to call in the middle of dinner." On the phone, Bean was still scowling. "Yeah, yeah, I've heard it before. It's thirty grand, up front.... Of course it's more than last year. I told you I wouldn't put up with any of that crap in my car." Bean paused, pulling his shades out of his inner jacket pocket. "Whatever, Don. The Mustang'll be outside the gate at six," he replied, sliding on the shades. Bean shut off the phone, pushing out from his seat. "Rally, thanks for the meal." Grinning, Bean stretched, the Kevlar re-enforced leather of his outfit creaking. "Tifa, I'll see y'all after I get back," he added, as he began striding to the front door. "Off to do this year's charity work, eh?" Mae asked, smirking at Rally across the table. Rally looked at the closing front door and smiled. "Yeah. The big goon's a sucker for kids. Say, Tifa, did you know...." Rally's embarassing-Bean-Bandit-story-time was cut hsort by the fact that Tifa was already sprinting for the front door. A moment later, and they heard the squeal of Bean's Mustang pulling away. Mae shrugged. "Oh, well. Pass the eggnog, Rally." *** As six o'clock rolled around, Bean and Tifa were driving down the interstate at a leisurely (for Bean) 90 miles per hour. Of course, at some point between Rally's house and wherever they were now, it had decided to start snowing. "So, why'd ya decide to come along?" asked Bean, as he swerved around some fool who was actually driving near the speed limit. "Hey, I can't let you go running off by yourself, right?" Tifa replied. "We're partners. Besides, this might even be fun." Tifa reached into the pocket of her overcoat, which Bean had given her as an early Christmas present ("You're cold," Bean had said. "It's kind of obvious, alright? Take the coat."), and produced a pair of fuzzy red Santa stocking caps. "Have a hat. It'll be festive," Tifa stated, handing the traditional headgear over to Bean. Bean looked at the hat, grunted, and put it on with one hand, while pulling onto an exit with the other. Donning her cap, Tifa checked the exit signs. "The Chicago Zoo?" Bean grinned. "Yep. You'll be surprised." Jerking his thumb towards the back, he added, "You'll need to get in the back seat and fold the front passenger seat all the way down. Our pick-up's a big guy." Tifa popped the passenger's seat into position, and crawled in the back just as the Mustang pulled up in front of the Chicago Zoo. Bean reached across the front seat and opened the passenger-side door. Then, the reindeer stuck its head in. "Jesus H. Christ, Bean, you want to cut it any closer?" the reindeer asked acidly, after dropping a plastic sack full of grubby bills in the floor. It scrawled in awkwardly, weighing its hindquarters into the back seat, and partially crouching in the front. Noticing Tifa, the reindeer inclined its head toward her. "Hey, Bean, who's the tomato?" "Shut up, Don," greeted Bean, while pulling out at at least twice the legal speed. "Tifa, this is Donner, of the 'eight tiny reindeer' and general scum-bag. Don, try remembering that you're house-broken this year." "Pleased to meetcha," said the reindeer, waggling it's eyebrows at Tifa. Tifa ignored him. "So, if he's one of Santa's reindeer, why is he in the zoo?" "Ah, the old fart had me locked in the clink," Donner said. "Just because I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die." "You never shot anyone in Reno, Don. You trampled and gored some mob boss' kids, and that was up on the east coast anyhow." They were back on the interstate now, and heading north at upwards of 100 mph. Donner rolled his eyes. "Whatever. The fat man's supposed to pick me up at the border, so shut up and drive, Lambda boy." Turning his attention back to Tifa, Donner tried a new line. "Damn, baby, let's play some reindeer games. How 'bout you come over here and be naughtay, 'cause that would be nice." Not being fond of being hit on by livestock, Tifa responded by using her fire materia to light Donner's antlers on fire. Donner shut up until they hit Sheboygan an hour later. *** It was just after nine, when Bean's Mustang passed into Michigan and the first rattle of gunfire bounced off the trunk. Checking the rear-view mirror, Bean grunted. "Damn. It's Monaghan." Donner covered his muzzle with his hooves. "Oh, crap, the zoo must have call him. He's a killer," moaned the reindeer. "I'm sooo dead." Tifa looked back, squinting through the snow fall and spotted a pea-green muscle car following them. A figure leaned out the window of the pursuing car, followed by a series of muzzle flashes. The back window bulged briefly, as the shots were deflected by the reinforced glass. Bean grimaced, displaying his prominent canines. "Tifa, use your materia. Toss some spells at them!" Bean shouted, swerved over the highway, onto a narrow county road. Tifa rolled down the window, and leaned out, trying to get a bead on the pursuing vechile. The wind whipped through her hair and her festive Santa hat danced wildly (but miraculously, did not fly off). The back of her overcoat streamed out behind her in a cool looking manner. Gunfire sparked and rebounded off the armored plating of Bean's car. A moment of concentration later, a bolt of lightning burst from one of the gems on Tifa's glove. The pursuing car swerved at the last second, and the bolt struck a tree to the side of the road. Another hail of gunfire followed, buzzing past Tifa like a swarm of metal locusts. Tifa tried again, and this time a ball of fire barrelled down the road toward the shooters. The man hanging out the window ducked inside, seconds before their car was washed over with flames. The car shot through the cloud of fire, and continued following. "Bean, the stuff I've got isn't doing anything!" exclaimed Tifa, as she slid back into the car. "Take this," Bean instructed. A leather gloved hand extended from the front seat, weilding a black cinder block-sized object. Tifa took the item, and nearly dropped it. It felt like she was lifting a cannonball. And whatever it was, it was sticky and smelled like rotten fruit too. "What is this?" "Rally's fruitcake. She makes one every year, and every year its best use is as a weapon." Bean jerked his thumb backwards. Another hail of gunfire rattled across the bumper. "Toss it on my mark." Tifa leaned out the window once more, poised to launch the deadly baked good. "NOW!" Tifa launched the fruitcake. It flew surprisingly well for such a weighty item, sailing end over end. It hit the pursuing vechile, slamming into the hood and leaving a six inch deep dent in it, before bouncing and smashing through the windsheild. It narrowly missed hitting the driver in a fatal manner. Instead, it forced him to swerve, flipping the car, and crushing the front end against a tree. (Luckily, no-one was injured badly, and after a breif discussion along the lines of 'geez, did you see that girl,' Monaghan and Nat went home.) "Got him!" shouted Tifa. She ducked back into the car, as Bean got back onto the state highway. Donner gave Tifa a round of applause, which was hampered due to his lack of hands. "Hey, babe, you're so good to me. What do ya say, after all this is over, would ya like to come over to my place for some hot reindeer lovin'?" At this point, Bean pulled over so Tifa could get kind of Renaissance (1375-1527 AD) on Donner's ass. The Final Heaven showed up on NORAD's screens that night, but was covered up as a UFO. *** Naturally, Bean and Tifa managed to get Donner to Santa Claus by midnight, so that St. Nick could bring toys and Christmas cheer to boys and girls everywhere. Because that's what Christmas in America's all about - guns, money, and sleazy fugitive reindeer. =-=-=-=-=-=-= Hiroshi felt a little apprehensive as he neared the living quarters area of the Ultradome complex. He felt guilty about not having bought Rei a Christmas present; however, he had absolutely no idea what to buy for the quiet girl, as she didn't seem to have any particular likes at all. Besides, he thought, with a mix of hurt, anger, confusion, and shame, Rei had been snubbing him lately. Maybe ignoring her at Christmas would teach her a lesson. He looked down at the brightly wrapped, elaborately ribboned package in his hands. It was with mixed feelings, indecisiveness, and more than a little fear of the outcome that he had decided to buy Lilith a present. Of course, Lilith was a sweet kid, Hiroshi reasoned, and she was really friendly, and nice, and...he clamped that train of thought off right there. Reaching the door he sought, he swallowed nervously, and knocked. "Who is it?" a voice called cheerfully from inside. "It's me," Hiroshi said a bit awkwardly. The door FLEW open. "Hiro-kun! Wai!" Lilith cheered as she glomped him, flying them both several inches off the ground in her excitement. After a moment, she set him down, and looked up at him. "What's up?" Hiroshi tugged at his collar, blushing slightly. "I, ah, got you a Christmas present." Proferring the box, he added, "Merry Christmas." Lilith went sparkly-eyed. "WAI!" She took the box, and a flurry of shredded paper and mangled ribbon later, it was unwrapped, and Lilith examined the contents with interest. "Oooooh, kawaii!" the chibi-succubus squealed as she extracted a rather disturbing plush doll from the box. "How'd you know I wanted a Hello Cthulu plushie?" Lilith asked, cuddling the Sanrio-fied plush hellbeast. Hiroshi chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ah, I saw it, and, well, it....just seemed to have your name on it," he said. Lilith giggled. "Thank you, Hiro-kun." Batting her eyelashes seductively, she added in a lower voice, "Now, why don't you come unwrap *your* present?" With that, she *piffled*, and her normal succubus attire was replaced by a leotard made entirely of one long, intricately wound shiny red ribbon, tied in a little bow near her cleavage. Hiroshi turned bright red, and began to sweat nervously. "Ah, heheheh, well, umm, that's thoughtful, but uhh...it's not really necessarEEEP!" Any further protests were cut off as the cloned announcer was yanked inside the room, and the door slammed shut. =-=-=-=-=-=-=-= EDITOR'S NOTES: Not bad for a few days' work, huh? Many thanks to the brave authors who dared write on a holiday, and plenty of Season's Greetings to EVERYONE! WHO TO BLAME: ][ Brian Stricklin - Controversial Jack ][ Kristen Smirnov - Team Rocket ][ Yun Cheolsu - Megaman and Tron Bonne ][ Mervyn the Wonder Slug - Sephiroth ][ Anonymous - Tifa and Bean ][ The Eternal Lost Lurker - Lilith and Hiroshi