Meg sat staring at the silhouette in the door as the handle rattled for what felt like hours. Behind her, the periodic whine of metal and scraping sound echoed as what was left of Marie the maid from hell was pulled into the vent. In her arms, Archibald seemed suddenly brave and growled.
The figure in front of her reached to the side of the door several more times, probably going for the inoperable door bell before it knocked on the pane. A few seconds later, he leaned forward and rapped on it again, and then on the glass. Meg fought to stifle the whimpering as she watched and waited for him to kick in the door and finish it.
Instead he stepped back, dropping his bag of toys, and pulled what looked like a cell phone. There was no way that this could be Santa Claws and she got to her feet, running up to throw the latches back. Meanwhile the sound stopped in the kitchen and the house became as silent as a tomb.
Meg threw the door open and raised the flashlight, blinding the visitor before she even knew she had done it. She stuttered as she recognized him, dropping Archibald unceremoniously onto the doormat with a thud. Somewhere below her, the dog growled in irritation and then ran to hide behind her.
"Oh my God," she muttered and the man smiled back at her, just like he did in all of his pictures. "Y-you-you're-"
He grinned and nodded, raising an eyebrow and striking a dramatic pose.
"You-you-you're SourBlood!" she exclaimed, running the words together. Her Father's gift just took on a whole new meaning.
"Give it up to the King, Baby," he said with a smile and a wink as he stepped forward and slid his arms around her.
Meg recoiled and went stiff, overwhelmed by what the day had thrown at her. So far she had been stalked, stabbed, slashed, choked, cajoled, punched, chased through her house, generally terrorized, and threatened by what everyone said was a figment of her imagination. Now she was face-to-face, or rather lip to lip with her idol - the man of her dreams and he was trying to shove his tongue down her throat. On any other day, this part would have been a fantasy come true but now was definitely NOT that day.
He was obviously used to getting whatever he wanted and tilted her backwards further as he applied more pressure, trying to pry her lips open. It didn't seem to matter that she was not kissing back and struggling, and he ignored her slaps to his shoulder and head. Cursing the fates that had decided to mess with her like this, she did the unthinkable. Moving her leg over, she found his "hard target" and drove her knee upwards. He gulped, nearly swallowing his tongue and let go of her as he slowly bent over and rested his palms on his thighs. Meg climbed to her feet and waited for him to recover as she kept an eye on the kitchen behind her. After a few seconds, he straightened up stiffly and put on a brave face.
"You're lucky that I'm not a normal man," he said." Or that might have hurt." The strained tone of his voice and the fact that his face was pale sort of undermined his delivery.
"You've got to listen to me!" Meg exclaimed. "They're after me! They killed Marie and they're after me!"
"Who's in there, daring to threaten my date for the evening?" he said, having recovered a little. Flexing his shoulders and his neck, he limped forward into the house to work it off. Meg thought that she must not have kicked him too well because he managed to strike another pose. "An obsessive ex-boyfriend? A subversive and cowardly Dark Night Interceptor?"
Realizing that he would probably write her off as a nut (after all, she had refused his advance), she knew that telling him the truth was not an option.
"A cognate," she sputtered, never being any good at telling lies. "They're all over the house and they've been trying to kill me all evening."
"Not a problem," he said as he pulled off his custom blue-tinted Magnum mirrorshades and handed them to her with a flourish. Stepping into the center of the room, he tossed off his leather jacket dramatically and struck yet another a pose. "Lock the door because I don't want any of them getting away. None of them are getting out of here alive."
"Who wants some?" he challenged, extending his hands palm upwards as he turned. No one answered and Meg stared in awe. He was still one hell of a stud, but how would he react to seeing elves? She smiled nervously and closed the door as he had asked, but didn't latch it.
"I said, Who Wants Some?" he called out again. This time something moved forward from the shadows of the hall and he grinned.
"Hail to the King, Baby!" he said with a wink back at Meg as he took his famous fighting stance. Whatever it was kept coming forward, trailing a cloud of snow and dust. He was unperturbed until he heard the sound of a chainaxe startup and then he raised an eyebrow.
Meg wasn't sure what it was that passed over Sour Blood's face, but it wasn' t unshakeable courage by any standard. An armored figure with the sneering head of a pumpkin stepped into the moonlight, but now the creature was fully six feet tall and had a full-sized chainaxe. Sour Blood half-smiled at it nervously and glanced over at Meg.
"You didn't mention that it-that it was Halloween Jack," he whispered, still holding his ground but obviously not happy about it. It sounded like he said something else like "he's friggin unstoppable" but wasn't sure. Meg was concerned about the way he was acting since he almost seemed afraid. She must have been imagining it.
"Tick Tock, Time to Die!" the giant doobrie yelled, pointing at him with an extended arm. It bent its arm upwards, slapped the other hand across it, and extended a middle finger for emphasis. "POSERBOY!"
"Kill him!" she screamed, knowing that Sour Blood was her only chance of getting out of her. "You've got to kill him!"
"Poser? POSER!" Sour Blood called back as he closed the distance. "I'll make you eat that, pumpkin head!"
The HJ spun its axe over its head and it whined like a growling ceiling fan. In a burst of speed, it stepped out and swung, the axe arcing across the floor just above the carpet. Sour Blood jumped, clearing the shot and came down inside its arc after it passed, jamming the axe's shaft with his shoulder. He lashed out with a flurry of backhands into HJ's face, and the pumpkin ball bounce around on its shoulders like a speed bag. HJ backed up and brought the axe down over handed, but Sour Blood crossed his arms over his head and blocked, grinning face to face with it.
"You aren't so bad after all," he laughed into its face. The pumpkin mask had wrinkled into an obscene snarl, but it changed into a sweet smile as the two struggled for the axe.
"Sour Blood ball breaker!" the HJ doobrie yelled as it kicked outwards, slamming its boot into the Contract Killer's midsection and picking him off the floor. Sour Blood stiffened and twisted to the side as he buckled, but had enough strength left to grapple. As he fell, he wrenched the axe free and sent the HJ rolling past into the wall of presents. There was a crash and a jingle as the tree shook rocked on its stand and leaned into the wall. For several seconds, the only sound was the chainaxe grinding into the floor at Blood's feet and the rasp of his wheezing. Meg winced, imagining what sort of pain he had to be in.
"Th-th sound byte is- oooooooh," Blood started, but had to gather himself and catch his breath (along with his cajones, Meg thought) to try again. "That's copyright infringement, asshole," he said as he fired a shot of kickstart into his arm.
Archibald was hopping around Meg's feet in terror and she picked him up again, hugging him to her as she looked around. With a start, she saw what had to be hundreds of tiny elf faces pressed against the windows watching the fight. The sound of their growling made a weird humming sound that sent shivers down her spine. Clutching the dog and the flashlight closer, she thought, I WILL latch that door after all and did so.
A horrible roar came from the near the tree as something tore outward, sending ornaments and tinsel flying in a tantrum. It came plowing forward at the Contract Killer, sending presents flying to the sides to the sides in a SLA-mas season-like wake. Blood seemed nonplussed and calmly kicked the chainaxe into the air, catching it in one hand and winking over at Meg and the dog. The outside edge of the cordon of gifts exploded as the HJ, now sprouting huge claws and fangs threw itself forward.
"Didn't know he could do that," Sour Blood muttered as he prepared to take the charge and forced a broad smile for Meg's sake.
Blood sidestepped the charge easily and with one clean strike, slashed out with the axe and the head bloodlessly popped clear of its shoulders. As the body stumbled past, he yelled and spun, planting the axe in its back and sending the flailing body forward into a heap on an end table.
With another flourish of the axe, Sour Blood struck yet another one of his copyrighted poses and threw a pelvic thrust with an "Uh-huh!" towards the body. He turned again, staring at the audience at the windows, some of which were holding "JACK!" signs.
"ANYBODY ELSE WANT SOME?" he taunted, pointing at the faces behind a window that bared their teeth in response. Meg figured that they were too stupid to be afraid of him and it was only the heavy glass that kept them from swarming him.
"YOU? YOU WANT SOME?" he asked again, changing windows and drawing the same fearless and rabid response. "WANNA HAVE A LITTLE?"
When none of the elves took him up on his challenge, he shrugged and killed the power on the chainaxe, plopping its head down next to his feet. The room was suddenly quiet and Meg met his smile as he struck another pose. He seemed to have an endless supply of poses and bravado, but she didn't mind at the moment.
"WHO'S THE MAN?" he yelled, obviously proud of himself. Meg breathed out slowly, feeling the tension start to leave her. A heartbeat later, the tension returned worse than before and what would have been a scream froze in her throat.
"That would be ME!" a booming voice called from the darkness behind him and he turned. Meg's mouth dropped as she recognized the voice from the phone and she squeezed the dog so tightly he yelped.
There was a jingle and the sound of something heavy coming forward. Initially, she could only see glimpses of white or red, but he stepped into the light fully and smiled. With his thumbs looped over his wide black belt, he laughed heartily like a loving grandfather but the eyes were deep, dark pits without irises.
"Looks like you've BOTH been Naughty this year!" he laughed, the booming ho-ho-ho resonating around the room.
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