A Devil of a Job

[Karl the Mad]

"Better 'n bein' some damn Adjutant," Charles grumbled. He'd been listening in the background, and he looked a little hungover. This wasn't unusual though, and if anything it helped him along. "Feh. Kids dyin', eh?" He glanced at Three. "Y' know what I saw, when I was out 'na world? Kids killin' kids. Child soldiers, Drakey. They'll pull triggers 'n lob 'nades as good as any grown man; tell yerself y' was self-defendin' all ya want, but survivin' against a passel a' armed kids? No way ya won't feel like shit fer months, no matter who y' are."

[IamLEAM1983]

Three didn't seem convinced. "Yeah, I guess, but a kid who's still young enough for the whole Santa Claus rigmarole? Killing that feels just -"

He shuddered by way of additional commentary. Bucky and Archie were heard arguing as they clambered up the stairs a few moments later.

"Shamus, you know me. I would never presume to waste a peace officer's time. My questions were designed in order to maximize our working relationship and to ensure that a good and essential camaraderie develops between our respective municipal services!
- Yeah, and you embellishin' the story about how you saved a bunch of werewolves from poachers back in Scotland was platonic. Sure, you took down five cursed types all by yourself. Now I'ma have to give her a call and set the record straight, y'know?
- There is nothing to set straight!
- Arch - I was there! I saw it as much as you did! Two inbred Scots, four rifles, five scared werewolves. That's it. Your late British vacation was as scary as the freakin' Hounds o' the Baskervilles, Holden!" If you wanna impress the Deputy Chief so badly, don't lie, okay? Don't sugarcoat. She ain't the type o' gal you're used to, from back in your day.
- I'm not that out of touch, old friend," negated the spy, which earned him an eye rollr from the Japanese Clank.

Bucky's little steam horns piped up a small Tada! fanfare, and he handed three folders to the group. "Sorry about the wait, Don Juan here is all smitten and he won't admit it."

Archie pushed his lower lip forward. "I am not smitten; I am merely in respectful awe of the Deputy Chief's personal skills!"

Bucky guffawed at that and brought a hand to his ear. "Y'hear the phone ring? That's the pot calling the kettle black."

[TennyoCeres84]

Aislinn chuckled. "So that's what took you so long! You were flirting with Tala!" she exclaimed. "Aw, that's cute, Archie! Just let us know when you two want to be alone!" the selkie teased, letting out a wolf whistle. "Good thing Neasa's not here; she'd never let you hear the end of it!"

[Karl the Mad]

Preston stepped from behind Archie and gave the clank a reassuring pat. "Young love," he teased briefly. He looked about at the others, still somewhat leery of being around so many at once without anywhere to hide, but he'd made progress in that front. "So, Clawz is back, is he?"

"Seems like it," Charles agreed. "Where's Starr? She's always around when shit's gwan down..."

[IamLEAM1983]

Three hooked a thumb at the banister. "In one of the reading rooms downstairs, I think. We're finding out there's enough stuff across various topics to give Arch honorary degrees in five or six disciplines."

Holden shrugged humbly. "I like a good book. Is that a crime?
- Well, today's definition of a good book is a brain-rotter from the New York Times bestseller list. "I don't know that many people who think studying the evolution of legal systems across the planet's history qualifies for fun evening reading. Ten to one on Starr being stuck on Archie's copy of the Frostathing, trying to figure out how Aldergard's bros handled litigations."

He shrugged. "I'll text her. We off to the Huntsman's Room for a briefing, or for the main library?
- The library," appended Archie. "You can tell Katherine to wait where she is, then. We'll come to her. Something tells me some audio-visual support will be appreciated..."

[TennyoCeres84]

"Any form of support would be beneficial to us," added Aislinn. "Especially when we have an unknown variable like the Krampus in the middle of it all."

[IamLEAM1983]

They headed back downstairs, passed by the reading rooms in the East wing and entered a space that was nestled at the back of the Hunstman's room, directly across from the French doors leading to the back yard. Holden Hall's library was all done up in wooden coffering and more sculpted banisters, small staircases connecting to the second story's worth of bookcases. One of the newest additions in the space was a set of leather couches, a flatscreen TV and a small entertainment center. A pool table had also been recovered from the basement and brought back upstairs - but the brunt of the space was taken by a huge oak table reminiscent of the mastodon furniture items you'd find in Ivy League libraries. Bolted-in reading lamps were visible at regular intervals, and the table proper had enough space for about sixteen chairs. Considering how the roster was still growing, there usually were quite a few empty spaces left, or chairs used as depot zones for someone's backpack or coat.

At any time of day or night, the library was the most consistently lit space in the mansion, although the intensity of it all could be dimmed or largely turned off, letting the individual reading lamps provide a more intimate setting. For now, however, Archie slid to the small workstation that had been set right next to the entrance, clicking on a few interface elements to bring down a retro-projector's white canvas. He slotted a USB stick in one of the ports with the practiced ease of someone who would've been born during the Information Age, and took a few minutes to clamber upstairs, muttering to himself as he pulled out a few leather-bound tomes. In the meantime, the projector faded into a fairly grotesque figure as the self-contained presentation application was keyed in.

They'd all have seen that image or a variation of it before, being American. The US obviously contained a sizable portion of descendants of German immigrants, including some obvious Norse roots. Some States were known to contain more Germanophiles than others, but the Old Country's general bloodlines were well and truly dispersed throughout the populace. For all of the Republican heckling about literal alien immigrants and the faux warnings concerning wars on this or that national holiday, everyone was a mongrel of some nature or another. Only the immortals and supernaturals could still claim to have undiluted European blood.

Considering, the grinning and naked devil that was prancing onscreen, dried switches of wheat in hand, broken shackles at his wrists and a serpentine tongue lolling out of his mouth, was recognizable by all. A few seconds later, the image faded to that of Santa Claus - as popularized by Coca-Cola's handling of the character.

"In my time," started Archie as he grunted under the weight of a few solid books, "Father Christmas was thinner, had a fuller beard, a deacon's pointed hat and sported less of an obsession for white fur lining. Then some ponce began to think that a stout fellow would stand more of a chance distributing presents in the darkest and longest night of winter. I personally suspect Oberon had a part to play in this, his successive incarnations giving various tones to those other roles he assumed. The current one is a jolly old Yank with the sense of responsibility of a five year-old, but the righteous fury of a Norse berserker and the compassion of, well, an affectionate man of his stature. The transition has been ongoing for a few centuries, now, and Christmas is now less a religious holiday than it is a chance for the planet's most prolific father to pay his respects to his, oh, few million offspring in a single night..."

Three blinked. "You're kidding, right?
- Who else would leave money to housewives in the olden days than working fathers? Who else would do so today than someone who is charged with dispensing alimony?"

Drake frowned at that. "Okay, but why doesn't Oberon just stick to Titania?
- He's Winter, kid," reminded Bucky with an amused smirk. "What did people do to stay warm before every other building was conveniently heated? You had parties, you drank - then the party moved to the sack."

That made Three wince. "Okay, TMI! Santa Claus can't keep it in, Roger! Ew!
- But, mister Drake," continued Holden, "Oberon remains a devoted father. Each year, at the apex of his yearly power, he casts the single, most powerful Glamor he may conjure and sets himself beside Time. While a single second ticks away, millions of children are given the gift of fatherly remembrance, as well as whatever bits of guidance he may dispense, regarding their incoming Changeling woes and trials.
- So how many Fae are directly related to Oberon and don't know it, exactly?
- Quite few, thankfully," reassured the Clank. "Not all of them choose to become Fae. Most go on to mortal lives and eventually become too old, too jaded to appreciate the visit of such a daunting figure. As far as I know, most of his descendants go on to deny their having any particular relation to Fae aristocracy. Even with his spell, however, the fact that his figure has become commonplace has led him to recruit outside help. That is where the Christmas Devil comes in."

This time, it was Zebediah's turn to look puzzled. "Hold on, I believe Krampus is strictly a punishing instance, isn't he?
- He was," agreed Archie, "but supply and demand have forced Oberon to broaden his bodyguard's repertoire. He has been offering entirely courteous visits to entirely respectable children for several generations, now."

Back to Three. "The Krampus being nice. That's weird.
- Not weird so much as necessary, Aidan. With eight billion people in this world and only so much power, Old Man Winter takes whatever assistance he can get.
- What about the naughty kids?"

Archie shrugged. "What about them? Are unruly children a blight upon the world? Are extreme measures required in any larger capacity than life's own vagaries? His job was to present the threat of punishment to children - and very real punishment for those who transgressed Fae law. Corporeal mortification was falling out of style even in my days; I fail to see how anyone would take to the social networks in silent terror at the thought of a demon hired to smack young bums back into bed," he said, scoffing.

The slide was switched. A blurry black-and-white photograph was shown, depicting a man dressed in clothes that resembled Gubbin's to a degree, the darker tones of gray suggesting a different color scheme. With an exaggerated nose, a pointed chin and the fairly demonic rock-like horns that grew out of its scabby forehead, he didn't exactly look like a choir boy. At the same time, the clothes seemed to suggest far more civility than the usual bare and furred legs or the broken chain links.

"This is Mister Kramp," said the spy. "Average height and diminutive build, a tiny bit of a paunch based on his love for self-indulgent pleasures - and a storied career as a Faerie-sanctioned sadist and information extractor. He thinks little of inflicting pain to those who stand in his way and especially thinks very little of bringing his targets within a few serious wounds of death. His job is to either drag offenders to justice before London's court, or to see to it that the lives of those who escape Oberon's judgment become an absolute torture. Then, ready to face anything at the prospect of being healed, they typically surrender themselves and also end up in London."

Bucky nodded. "No kill tally, but he breaks bones like nobody's business. Oberon's paid a fortune to snatch a varmint from Lucifer and train him. Guy's always training on some level or another; there's martial artists from about every discipline around the world in Faerie's ranks. Guy's hard to nab, hard to stop and hard to slow down. Whatever Oberon orders, he'll do. That's the only way to get him to kill anyone, too: an express order from Winter. When that's given, guy goes Terminator. Well, Terminator if your Robert Patrick spent Oberon's money on booze, junk food, torture implements, fast cars and cheap hotels. He's basically Batman with no filter."

Three crossed his arms. "Let me guess: Oberon's issued a kill order on that Michael guy.
- Precisely," agreed Archie.

"Does he have a history of hurting innocents to get to the guilty ones?
- He'll rough-house anyone who obstructs him, yes, but he seems to have a rather solid moral compass. Past reports from around the country and Europe only suggest mild abrasions and lacerations, bruises and the like. He seems quite careful. Less than I would be, but..."

Archie shrugged, showing this wasn't really up for comparison.

[TennyoCeres84]

"Where does that leave us, though? We know his M.O., but not how he'll take to us wanting to sniff out this Michael asshole behind the murders. I don't think he'll throttle us, but it still leaves me wondering..." Aislinn stated.

[Karl the Mad]

"We gotta find Mikey first," Charles said flatly, staring at the screen. "Mortal law stands; Fae law c'n fuck off."

Katherine, who had indeed been perusing the Frostathing and had been texting Preston about the true horrors of an arrow to the knee, also looked up. "It's not that simple, Jenkins," she said. "We have a child killer on the loose, and a Christmas-themed Punisher out there after him." She thought for a moment. "The murder victims we've found up to now, are they kin to Oberon? Is this Michael targeting his descendants to get to him?"

[IamLEAM1983]

"He is," flatly replied Archie.

There was a moment of pause - after which one of Archie's books began to hover just a few inches off the table. Three was staring at it, anger clearly perceptible behind the poker face he was doing his best to keep up. It took a second or two, but the book fell back down, leaving Drake to let out a ragged sigh.

"No offense, but I kinda want to fuck mortal law, right now. I know we can't, but - I'm just voicing my thoughts, here."

Archie's facial plates shifted ever so slightly, going from hard assessment to something that was akin to that, and at the same time much softer. A kind of restrained compassion that was all his own, in a sense. "I understand, Aidan," he said, dropping the honorifics for once, "but we must prove ourselves to be better than he is; in every way."

The Clank rounded the table and rested a hand on Three's shoulder. "Justice should be its own reward, my boy. It takes a spy to know how operating outside the law's boundaries leaves one aching and raw."

None of that was surprising, as the earlier psychological evaluations had revealed that Three had a sense of justice that he expressed liberally, yes, but with a level of strength that rivaled a Gruff's displays.

For now, the Clank kept his hand there, presumably to steady Three to a degree, even as he looked to the others. "I've made a formal inquiry with the Viscount for a list of the local descendants of Oberon. I should have it by email in the coming hour. A trip to the morgue should help us in the process of elimination. Once this will be taken care of, we should find the oldest child and our slightest team member. We cannot simply wait for him to strike once again."