Regis Warring walked from cubicle to cubicle, wishing his employees a happy holidays and attempting to convince them all to head out early before things got too hectic in downtown Manhattan. As he passed by one cubicle, he paused – the sound of typing on a keyboard caught his attention. Peering into the work space, he saw one of his writers pounding away furiously. Since his presence wasn’t yet noticed, he tapped lightly on the cube wall. “How we doing here?”

Diana Kane swiveled around in her chair. “I’m almost done,” the blonde woman said. Regis Warring half smiled. “I thought only Santa’s elves did last minute work on Christmas Eve?”

“I just wanted to get this travel piece finished for you before I left for the day,” she said.

“I didn’t see you at the party earlier?”

“Sorry,” she apologized. “I just had a lot to do here.” She started to type again.

Mr. Warring moved closer and pushed the power button on the monitor. “Diana, can we talk for a minute?”

She turned around again to face him. She knew this talk was coming and had been avoiding it for the past few days. She had hoped she could get through the holidays without it occurring and perhaps everything would blow over entirely by then.

So much for that idea.

“Sure,” she said reluctantly as if she really had any choice in the matter.

“Let’s go talk in my office,” the older man suggested. “It’s more private.” He exited the cubicle and headed down the hall.

Diana rose quickly and followed him.

When they got into his office, Regis Warring said, “Close the door, please.”

She did as he asked and sat at the chair across from his desk. There were various items in his in-box, no doubt completed articles from her fellow staff writers ready to go for the next issue. “So,” she said breaking the heavy silence. “You wanted to talk, sir.”

Mr. Warring gathered his thoughts for a second more and then began. “Diana, I really do appreciate your hard work the past few days. You’ve been like a woman possessed, plowing through items while a lot of others have been coasting into the holiday.”

“Just doing my job,” she said.

“And I appreciate that,” Warring replied. “And I’m sure you were just making up for lost time.”

Oh no, Diana thought. Here it comes! “I’m really sorry, sir, for missing work all those past weeks,” she said. “And I’m sorry that I can’t explain it any more than I have…” Like you’d even believe I was kidnapped by my arch-enemy, brainwashed, and then used to attack my teammates. “…but I promise you I’ll make up for the assignments by putting in extra hours over the coming weeks. I’m even planning to work through the holidays.”

“I have no doubt of that,” Mr. Warring said. “You’ve always been a hard worker, Diana. But assignments are just assignments.” He leaned across his desk and made direct eye contact with her. “I’m more concerned about you.”

“About me?” she asked. “I’m fine. Really, I am.”

“But you haven’t been,” he pointed out. “For parts of October and early November, you seemed very…distant. Your work didn’t have its usual flare or passion.”

Diana dropped her head. “I know. I’m sorry about that.” That was the period when her powers were gone. She looked up again. “Really, though, everything is just fine now.”

“I want to be sure of that,” Mr. Warring said. “Which is why I think you should take a little leave of absence.”

“A leave?” Diana exclaimed. “But, what about my piece on the toxic dumping?”

“John Connely can handle that for you.”

“John Connely?” she said. “The one who photocopied his backside at last year’s party?”

Warring chuckled. “He’s more capable these days,” he said. “But, in any case, I do think you can use the time off.”

“But I was just gone,” she pointed out and then started to bite her tongue. She didn’t want to get into explaining things, and her editor had already been so good to let it go.

“I think you really need it,” he said. “Take a month or so, work out whatever it is you’ve been trying to work out, and then get your head back into the game. Your job will be here when you get back.”

Diana considered. “Are you sure?”

Warring smiled. “Sure I’m sure. You’re one of my best writers. Consider it a Christmas present. Just promise me you won’t use the time to take off to another magazine.”

Diana nodded. “Deal.”

***

“But Mr. Dunbar,” the brown haired receptionist with a heavy Jersey accent said, “I really don’t think you want to go in there.” She stood with her back to the wooden door that led to his office.

“Stephanie, not now,” the well dressed man with black hair and a mustache said as he physically moved her aside. “I have calls to make before it gets too late.” He reached for the door knob and began to open the door. “This organization doesn’t run…” His words trailed off as he looked into the office. His eyes grew wide and his cheek twitched.

Before him, atop his fine oak desk was a huge pile of dark, sooty rocks. There was also a white envelope with a red bow attached to it.

“That’s what I was tryin’ to warn ya about,” Stephanie said.

Jake Dunbar rushed into the room, snatched the note from the pile and tore it open in anger. Inside was a simple scrawled note.

You’re on the naughty list! Stay out of my neighborhood! – Santa U.

Jake Dunbar crumbled the note in disgust.

Across the way, an African-American man in a green costume and mask smiled as he looked through a pair of binoculars. With the lenses, he could see Dunbar screaming into his phone. The costumed man smiled.

A raven haired beauty in a white costume stood by him. “Happy?” Night Owl asked.

“Oh yeah, Night Owl,” the User replied. “That’ll certainly help make my season a little brighter.”

“So, he got the message with your little gift?” she asked.

“He sure did!” User grinned as he let the binoculars hang down from his neck. “I couldn’t read his lips, but I could tell that he got the point. A big pile of coal will do that.” He had to laugh a bit. “Steel Claw knows we’re still watching his operations, and that we’re not going to stop until he’s shut down for good.”

***

That evening, at Saint Andrews church, the Christmas Eve service proceeded with joyful song and uplifting scripture.

Like other children at the service, Matthew Bradley was very excited and could hardly contain himself. But, while the other children were anxious for the arrival of Santa Claus the next morning, this ten year old boy was marveling at the songs, stories and festive decorations in the place of worship. This was his first exposure to such a thing.

Every few moments, he would silently tug at the sleeve of the brown haired man to his right. Matthew would then point to see if his mentor had already noticed that which the boy just had discovered.

Alan Haygner would just smile and pat the young lad gently atop his brown haired head.

Across the aisle and one row behind, a young woman with long brown hair smiled at the two of them.

Next to her, a man, a few years her older with chiseled features and lighter brown hair noted each time the woman looked that way.

When the service finally ended, the young woman waited until Alan and Matthew exited their pew before she stepped out into the aisle. “Merry Christmas,” she said to the duo.

“Merry Christmas,” Alan said with a smile.

“Amanda!” Matthew exclaimed. “I didn’t know you’d be here.” He turned to Alan. “Did you know she would be here?”

“I thought she might,” Alan said.

“Who’s this?” the man with Amanda asked.

“Oh,” she said. “Sorry. Alan and Matthew, this is my brother Christopher Kelly. Chris, these are two friends of mine.”

“A pleasure to meet you, Christopher,” Alan said as he extended his hand in greetings.

Chris gave him a firm hand shake. “Same here.”

The four started to move out along with the crowd, but they kept talking. Chris kept a few steps back, observing the interaction of his sister and her friends.

“I didn’t realize you went to this church,” Amanda said to Alan.

“I haven’t been to any church in a long while,” the man admitted. “But I knew you went and would be here tonight. I wanted to see you to give you this.” He reached into his long trench coat pocket and produced a small wrapped box. “For you.”

Amanda’s brown eyes lit up. “Wow, thank you.” She started to blush just a bit. “I’m sorry but I don’t have your gifts with me. I was planning to bring them by later in the week. You’ll be home, right?”

“We will,” Alan nodded. “We’re still cleaning the place up, and we have a houseguest coming around the first of the year.”

“A guest?” Amanda asked.

“Sybil somebody,” Matthew interjected.

“Sybil Leigh. She’s an old friend of my parents,” Alan said. “You’ll get a chance to meet her I am sure.”

“Good,” Amanda said. “Looking forward to it.” She looked down at her gift. “Should I open it now?”

“You can wait until morning,” he said. “We should be on our way anyway. We don’t want to keep you and your brother from your evening plans.”

“Oh we don’t really…,” Amanda started to say.

Alan just nodded and turned to Matthew. “Time to go home,” he said. The two started to walk off.

“Bye, Amanda,” Matthew called behind him.

“Bye,” she called back.

“So,” Christopher said, “where do you know them from exactly, sis? College or something?”

“They’re just friends of mine,” she said.

“And that boy – he isn’t Alan’s son is he? I mean, he’s got to be eight or something and Alan hardly looks much older than me.”

“Alan sort of adopted Matthew,” she said.

“Interesting,” Christopher said in a ponder way.

Amanda hit him playfully in the upper arms. “Come on, Chris,” she said. “You don’t always have to be the investigating detective. Give it a rest, okay? It’s Christmas Eve and all.”

Christopher Kelly nodded and smiled at his younger sister. “Okay, Mandy, okay.”

***

As a light dusting of snow was falling in Brooklyn, the back door at the Johnson house opened and shut. Martha turned from her chore of doing the evening dishes in the sink to see a familiar face. The woman’s expression brightened as she tossed aside the drying towel. “Tommy!” she exclaimed as she threw her arms about the brown haired teen. “You’re home.”

“Merry Christmas, Mom,” the young man said. When his mother released her hug, he put down a pair of presents onto the kitchen table.

“Your father is going to be pleased that you’re back,” the woman in her late forties said. “You are back, right?”

“At least for tonight,” Tommy said, “that is if it is okay that I stay.”

“Of course it is,” his mother said. “Your room is all made up, just like you left it.” She stepped back a second. “You look a little thin. Are you eating okay? Let me fix you something.” Martha Johnson hurried to the refrigerator.

“I’m fine, Mom,” the young man said. “Really.” He saw her pull out a plate of leftovers. “Is that roast beef?”

His mother smiled. “Your favorite.”

“Okay,” Tommy gave in. “Just a little bit.”

His mother nodded. “I’ll heat it up for you.”

Tommy slipped off his coat and picked up the presents. He stepped through the arch-way that led from the kitchen to the dining room. In the far corner, a six foot tall artificial tree with multi-colored lights lit up the room. He walked over to it and put his two gifts down on the floor along side the others beneath the tree. He took a quick glance and noticed his name on a couple of the tags. He smiled.

He then walked towards the family room where the sound of holiday music could be heard coming from the television. There he found his father, sitting with his feet up in the old brown recliner. Tommy stood and just watched the man for a second.

Ned Johnson’s half closed eyes opened as he realized he was no longer alone in the room. He looked his son up and down and nodded slightly. “Not out saving the world?” he asked with slight condescension in his tone.

Tommy sighed. He knew this wouldn’t be easy. “Not tonight,” he replied. He waited for his father to say something more but there was little more to the exchange. He moved over and sat on the couch. Glancing at the television, he saw the image of a festive fire as unseen singers started another classic carol.

“The Yule log, huh?” Tommy asked.

“It’s a tradition,” his father said. “Families have traditions.”

Tommy nodded.

The two Johnson men sat in silence watching the burning log.

***

In a small club in upstate New York, a woman with red hair dressed in a green dress with a short skirt smiled as she sat at a table in the corner. The place still had a number of patrons, finishing their last round while they listened to the live music on stage.

A blonde haired man sat on a stool playing acoustic guitar. “…be home for Christmas, if only in my dreams,” he sang the final lines of the song.

The audience responded with some light applause.

Scott Ballard smiled and nodded. “Thanks, everyone. Thank you very much. Please be careful driving home tonight.” He stood up from the stool, slung his guitar to one side and crossed the stage.

As he stepped down the two small steps, the red haired woman was waiting with his guitar case in hand. Scott smiled again. “Thanks, Rita,” he said as he began to put his instrument away.

“You performed great tonight,” she said.

“So glad you decided to come.” He snapped the case shut.

“Well, it was either this or inventory at the shop,” Rita Mason replied. She threw her arms about Scott’s shoulders. “I think I made the right choice.”

Scott kissed her strongly on the lips.

Rita smiled. “I definitely made the right choice.”

“I’m glad you did,” he said. He reached for her coat on the back of the chair and helped her on with it. “What say we get out of here and go get nestled all-snug in our bed?”

“Someone’s thinking of more than sugar plums,” she said with a wink.

Scott laughed. “Guilty as charged, my dear, guilty as charged.”

“Well,” Rita said, “I guess it doesn’t hurt to start off Christmas in the right way. Just don’t think that means you can give me one less present.”

Scott smiled. “I wouldn’t dream of that.”

***

Hours later, high above the Earth’s surface, in an orbiting satellite headquarters, a large clear cylinder shimmered with light. In a moment, a figure formed inside. At the teleporter control console, the appropriately garbed Golden Archer stood patiently as a blonde woman stepped from the tube. “Merry Christmas, Amazon,” he said.

Dressed in her old orange and red costume with a long coat over it, the woman set down her small duffle bag and smiled. “Merry Christmas to you too,” she said. “I hope I didn’t take you away from anything.”

The archer nodded. “Nah, not a thing,” he said. “I offered to take duty so some of the others could spend time with their spouses and kids. I was just catching some football on the TV monitors while keeping an eye on things planet-side. It’s been pretty quiet.”

“I appreciate the transport,” she said.

“Not a problem,” he said. “Can I offer you something? I think I have some ham left that I could reheat for you.”

“No, I’m good. I’m just a little anxious to get on with things.”

“Gotcha,” the Archer said. He had spoken with his teammates, who filled him in on the situation, so he had been expected the young woman. “Let me just adjust the coordinates and I’ll have you back down on your way.”

“Thanks,” she said. She glanced about at the satellite and its advanced technology. It had been awhile since she was here. The last time was months ago when she was recovering from the battle with the Destroyer. Thinking of that, she added, “Dr. Speed had suggested this little retreat, and I guess now’s a good time as any to take advantage of that.”

“I think you’ll find it beneficial,” he said. “I’ve done it myself a few times. It really helps sharpens the old skills.” Golden Archer punched in the last few coordinates on the system. “Okay, we’re all set.”

“Thanks,” Amazon said. She stepped back into the tube and gave a little nod.

The Golden Archer activated the system. In seconds, the tube shimmered and the Justice Gang’s advanced alien technology transported the young woman again back down to the blue orb that circle beneath the satellite. Good luck, kiddo, he thought to himself. Hope you find what you’re looking for.