The Chateau, Boston, Massachusetts
December 24, 2008, 3:15 a.m.

“Submit! You will submit to me!”

Dominique swung the cat o’ nine tails against the bare, chalk white back of Doctor Frost. Each of the nine leather straps ended with a carefully sharpened tack. They tore in to Frost’s skins and left bloody trails behind them.

“I don’t want to hurt you! Just do as I command!”

Frost hung naked in the middle of a dank room. One light flickered above him. Two chains dropped from the ceiling to either side of the light. They ended in the shackles around each of Frost’s wrists. He hung about six inches off the ground. His feet were bound by two more shackles connected to the hard stone floor below.

Dominique walked in front of him. She grabbed him by the back of the head and drew his face down to her own. “I know you want me, Frost. Submit and you can have me. Anytime, anyplace, all you have to do is ask. Isn’t that so much better than this?”

Frost chuckled. Several teeth were missing from his mouth from the previous days attempt at punishment and reward.

“I would say go fuck yourself, but we both know that’s not a problem for you, is it?”

“Such crass language is unbecoming of a doctor. You should think about your own health. It’s a smidge over thirty-two degrees in this room. Just warm enough to cause you a vast amount of discomfort without your special suit. Give in and we can lower the temperatures.” Her hand trailed down his naked chest and stopped just below his waist. “I can handle you hot or cold, darling.”

“I already have to where the suit just to walk outside. Gonorrhea would make that so much harder to manage.”

“Insolent fool!” The cat struck him across the chest and stomach. The oxygen shot from Frost’s lungs and left him gasping for breath.

The high metal door in front of him gave a rusty whine as it started to open. Dominique turned from her task to see the nature of the interruption. Frost raised his own head to look. This was the first time anyone interrupted one of their sessions.

Frost’s eyes widened as he saw Mike O’Malley, the Fire-Eater, enter the room. He recognized his former colleague’s face from cereal boxes, action figures, and gossip magazines all over the market. He couldn’t understand how the man with a blank expression standing in the doorway could be the same man.

“I’ve been waiting for hours, mistress. When will you return?”

Dominique glared at Fire-Eater. “I told you to wait in the bed until I came back. Do you want to feel my lashes?”

“If you wish, mistress. I just—I need you.”

“Obviously you have gone too long without your own discipline, slave! Back to the bedroom and wait on your knees! I will return shortly!”

Fire-Eater shambled from the room. Dominique turned back to Doctor Frost. Her hand came up again. The cat o’ nine tails ripped in to his chest again.

“I will leave you to think about my proposal, Frost. I will have what I need, whether you wish it or not.”

Frost smirked. “You’re always welcome to try, Zoomie.”

Dominique glared at the bloodied man, but she said nothing more. She turned on one stiletto heel. Her shoes clicked across the stone floor as she followed Fire-Eater out the exit. The large metal door shuttered and closed behind her. Frost slumped in his chains. He knew he needed to conserve his strength and rest. He would need all the energy he could to resist her next round of attacks.

“Merry Christmas to me.”

*****

Starlin Hill, New Salem, Kentucky

December 24 2008, 8:00 a.m.

Ernesto Ramirez, the former Captain Fearless, stood over the graves of his wife and children. Each tiny gravestone stood next to another to form an entire row of the Ramirez family, most far too young to die. Some such as his wife and children, he remembered. A few he only knew from Isabella’s words.

All of you are my blood and I have failed every last one of you.

Not again. I’m not going to let it happen again.

He hoped to spend his first Christmas in sixty years with the one family member he had left. But seven weeks ago his granddaughter disappeared. Ernesto tried to do every last thing in his power to find the missing woman. But she disappeared off the map completely. So help me if Dart had anything to do with this.

The last criminal they encountered had been happy to provide a description of his missing daughter and her new ally. Ernesto prided himself on his ingenuity. Even without powers, he could more than take care of most of the city’s thugs.

He bowed down in front of his wife’s grave. One hand dropped to the stone. I’ll find her. Nothing can stop me from finding her. I won’t let another Ramirez die.

Powers or not, Captain Fearless was back in the game.

*****

Sally Lincoln’s apartment, Atlanta, Georgia
December 25, 2008, 10:44 a.m.

Blackout scribbled more notes to himself on the fold-out table that was now his makeshift work station. Jethro Dumont sat on the floor in front of the television. His legs were crossed in a lotus position. His eyes were shut. He showed no sign of acknowledgement of anything around him.

Sally toiled in the kitchen. She never considered herself much of a cook. Ever since her experience in the Abyss Sphere she couldn’t shake the urge to do so. She found she wasn’t half bad at it either. Cooking came naturally to her, almost as though she did it many times before.

She could feel her other selves whispering thoughts to her, but she blocked them out. Her focus remained on the ham she slid in to the oven. She turned away and went back to washing and peeling potatoes. This feels right. Like I’ve done it all my life. Now if I could just figure out why all this is happening to me.

Blackout howled his excitement for a moment, but he never looked up from his work. He started writing again with even greater speed than before. She knew the inventor trapped inside the voiceless body toiled to create a device that could track Doctor Frost’s unique power signature. He hadn’t yet found success, but he seemed to be moving closer. She hoped that it wouldn’t be too late for Frost when they finally found him.

Jethro’s head rose out of the meditative trance. He turned to look at the others. “I see you are both awake.”

Sally smiled. “Have been a couple hours. You’ve been in that trance longer than any I’ve seen before.”

Jethro nodded. “I’ve searched for Frost again, but something deadens his life force on the mystic plane. I suspect Blackout’s device may be the only way we find him.” He shrugged. “For now, I suspect we should just enjoy what I’m sure will be a delicious Christmas dinner.”

“You celebrate Christmas? I wouldn’t have guessed that. With all the Oms and Hums I thought you were Buddhist.”

He smiled.

“What?”

“Everyone falls for it.” He chuckled to himself. “It’s all a ploy. I created Doctor Pali and used the Buddhist gimmick to cover my tracks as much as possible. After years in the Himalayas, I knew the religion quite well, but my loyalty always lay with the teachings I learned in Shangri-La. I gained a link to the world-tree. I can feel the earth beneath us even through these layers of wood and concrete. I realized the foolish division caused by religion and politics.”

He stopped for a moment to look at Blackout’s plans. He nodded approvingly before turning his attention back to Sally. “The Buddhism allowed me to cover the true origins of my powers. It wasn’t until the other heroes emerged from the mountain top and revealed their origins that I realized I wasted my time with the gimmick. By then, Pali was far too useful not to keep alive and my words of power were known by one and all. So I kept using them.”

“Oh. So does that mean you like Christmas or not?”

“I have no feelings about it as a Christian holiday, but as a celebration of giving, I think it is hugely successful. And Old Nick is a real cut-up.”

“Nick?” Sally said.

“Saint Nicholas. Or Santa Claus as they call him in North America.”

“Santa! Santa is just a myth! A cute story we tell children!”

“So they say,” Jethro said. “Just like they say I’m a Buddhist mystery man.”

“But—” Sally’s words trailed off as Jethro turned towards the bathroom.

He’s kidding, right? He’s got to be kidding.

*****

The Chateau, Boston, Massachusetts
December 25, 2008, 1:11 p.m.

Martina Ramirez looked on in horror from deep in the recesses of her own mind as she entered the bedroom. The man in front of her was naked. His arms and feet were bound by leather straps that lead somewhere beneath the mattress. Four women, all in various states of undress, caressed his body. He struggled against their touch and his bonds. He tried to cry out, but the gag across his mouth muffled the sound.

She strained to help the captured Ace Barlow, but she could not. Her body betrayed her, forced in to mind-numbed subservience by some dark sorcery. Her body would do nothing to betray Dominique or her minions, no matter how much her mind wished it could be so.

She wore little more than Ace’s four would-be concubines as she entered the room. A fitted push-up bra forced her bosom upward, while a matching red thong barely hung to her hips. Knee-high black boots and a dog collar completed the ensemble.

Her eyes met Ace’s own as she walked towards the window. She could see the desperation in his eyes. She strained to help him, but could only raise the watering can in her hand and sprinkle its contents over the fresh flowers beneath the window.

I’m sorry, Ace. I’m just not strong enough.

She turned away from him and the plants. Seconds later, she exited the room to continue on with her daily chores.

*****

Massachusetts General Hospital, Boston
December 25, 9:29 p.m.

The pain was incredible. Isobel remembered the pain of landslides, bullet wounds, even a sword embedded in her side. None even came close to the pain she felt as she pushed with all her might.

“You’re doing great,” the doctor said. “Keep pushing! Push, push, push, push, PUSH!”

The contraction came to an end. Her grip loosened on the nurse’s arm. The nurse used her free hand to swab the sweat from Isobel’s head. “Rest. We’re almost there. The next contraction and we’ll be there, okay.”

She nodded. Isobel didn’t have the strength to talk. She looked around the room for Robert, but couldn’t find him anywhere.

“He’ll be back soon, honey,” an observant assistant said. “I’m sorry he couldn’t be here for this, but he’ll be back soon.”

The doctor caught Isobel’s eyes. “Okay, get ready. We’re going to have a baby now. Deep breath and get ready and… PUSH!”

Isobel cried out in pain as she pushed. She clenched her eyes shut, but it did nothing to curb her suffering. The pain and pressure forced a scream out of her mouth. She wanted it to stop, but she knew she couldn’t. She couldn’t hold it in as she started to cry at the agony.

She realized she wasn’t the only one crying. The pressure lessened slightly as she opened her eyes to watch the doctor lift up her baby. The staff quickly moved to verify the health of the baby. She watched as they cleaned its face and head, clipped and cut the umbilical cord, and wrapped the baby in a bundle.

“Congratulations, Isobel. You have a proud baby boy.” Isobel’s eyes sparked as the tears were burned away by electricity. She reached out to the grounded piece of wood at her side. The lightning caused the wood to shutter as it flashed from her hand.

Her eyes stayed on her new bundle as the doctor and nurses helped her through the afterbirth. She wanted it to be over faster. She only had one wish left in her body: to hold her son.

It seemed like an eternity before the doctor and nurses were done with her. But at last, a nurse brought the baby to her side. She placed the bundle in to Isobel’s arms.

She looked down at two tiny dark eyes blinking above a tiny little nose. “Hello, my little Gabriel. You are my little Christmas angel.”

Exhaustion flooded her body. Her nurse noticed and reached down to lift baby Gabriel. Isobel struggled to keep him.

“It’s all right. He’ll be right in the room in his own bed. But right now you both need your rest.”

Isobel reluctantly agreed. She smiled one last time at her darling Gabriel before drifting off to sleep.