Author's Note: A multi-chapter Christmas fic as a gift to my readers. Merry Christmas!

Disclaimer: "Superjail!" and related stuff belong to its creators and Augenblick Studios. A Christmas Carol belongs to Charles Dickens.

A Warden's Christmas Carol

Christmas Eve

'Tis the season, 'tis the season. Christmas—one of man's most treasured traditions. Whether religious or not, all can enjoy the warmth, the togetherness, the spirit of giving…but not all do. Those who do not regard Christmas should not be punished, but some are particularly bitter around this time, and some attempt to spread that feeling to those around them.

The Warden of Superjail was not by nature an unhappy person; he was quite the opposite by far. Normally blissful, flamboyant, and oblivious; around Christmas he was unusually irritable and withdrawn. A large reason was that his birthday came around in mid-December, and while that would make most anyone else happy, the Warden hated the fact that he was getting ever older. But another big reason was that his staff was—distracted around this time, preoccupied with the events of the coming 25th. Warden could never get them to focus entirely on their work as they normally did. The problem only got worse as that glorious day drew closer.

So here Superjail's leader found himself on yet another December 24th, hunched over his desk at the phone, disappointing the newest staff members who did not yet know the norm this time of year.

"No, I do not give off for Christmas, I do not give Christmas bonuses, and I do not condone Christmas parties!" he told a dejected employee. "And why should I? Injustice and crime don't take off for the holidays, so neither should incarceration." As the man on the other end tried to reason with him, the Warden slammed the phone down on the hook. He laid his arm down in front of him and dropped his chin into it. With the other hand he took hold of the one trinket that adorned his desk. A small snow globe, which he then turned upside-down and right-side up again. Artificial snow began to fall over a tiny replica of Superjail. A gift for his recent birthday. Jared had had it custom-made. Warden wasn't sure why he kept a reminder of Christmas on his desk, but he concluded that it was because it portrayed his beloved empire. Still, he growled under his breath that it mirrored the scene outside his window. Snow fell every year on Superjail at Christmas, and try as he might, the Warden could never will it away. This never did anything to improve his mood. And speaking of which, another thing that did not improve his mood was the arrival of another employee to his office to plead for yuletide.

"Sir, are you busy?" his accountant rapped on the door.

"If it's about Christmas, then yes," the jail keeper hastily snatched some nearby paper and made the noise of writing. "I'm sunk in paperwork."

"Sir, please? It won't be long."

"Oh, fine, Mr. Whiner," the Warden flung the papers over his shoulder unceremoniously. "Come in."

Jared entered and immediately paled at the sulking face of his boss. "Sir, I'm sorry to bother you like this, but I managed to find the funding for Superbar to be repaired. If you could just sign the work order." He approached the desk and held out a form. Warden roughly grabbed it, scanned over it, and scribbled his signature, returning it to Jared within a minute.

"Now I'm sure I know what you're really here about."

Jared swallowed hard. "Well, sir, I…I have worked exceptionally hard this month, and—"

"Forrrgeeett it, Jarie-Jare," the eccentric employer asserted.

"But sir!" Jared begged, "I'm exhausted, and I haven't had a day off in months!"

"Boo-hoo!" the Warden snapped unsympathetically, "Back to your office! I'm sure there's more work to be done somewhere. Now go!"

His accountant, dismayed, reached the door before adding a final memo. "Oh, and Warden? Bird is really sick and Gary's done all he can for him. If he isn't placed in the infirmary—"

"Our Doctor is not a veterinarian," Warden stated.

"Sir, he needs medical care—"

"So do hundreds of other inmates, and I don't give it to them either!" the prison's overlord stood and propped himself up on straight arms, hunching his shoulders. It gave him a much more powerful appearance, causing Jared to cringe. He backed away to the door and mumbled one lat thing before leaving.

"Merry Christmas, Warden."

Nightfall was painfully slow (to the Warden) in coming. He spent Christmas Eve night the same way he had spent Christmas Eve day: sulking. He stayed in his office, doing paperwork, dreaming up more contraptions for the jail, and playing paper football with himself. After a dinner of bean-and-bacon soup (which always tasted like gruel when the cafeteria ladies made it) he retired early to bed for a lack of more ways to pass the evening.

Upon changing to nightclothes, a knock and a short string of mechanical sounds came to his bedroom door.

"Come in, Jailbot."

The robot entered and beeped questioningly at his father.

"Yes, Jailbot, I'm going to bed," Warden told him, "Not much else to do tonight. Make sure everyone stays on task for me, okay?"

"Beep."

"That's my boy," the Warden settled into bed, "Goodnight, Jailbot."

He turned over to a comfortable position before being slightly startled to hear Jailbot's parting words:

"Beep beep, beep."

He had never heard that phrase before, but he could have sworn it meant "Merry Christmas, Daddy."

He'd barely had any sleep when he was jarred awake by no force apparent. He saw nothing but his usual surroundings, and heard nothing but the whistling wind outside. But listening closer, he thought he heard clanking and dragging of metal along the floor outside.

"Jailbot! Alice! An inmate's escaping!" he called out, and was about to search for his video pager when…something entered the room. He thought at first it was smoke, but rather than coming from under the door—or through any opening, for that matter—it came through the door. As the Warden watched, frozen in bewilderment, he realized it was a human form. A glowing human form. More frightening yet was that he recognized the apparition, but he recognized the person as someone who had been deceased for many years. No, it couldn't possibly be…

"Who-Who are you?" he inquired in a shaky whisper. The smoky figure was laden with chains, which dragged along what seemed similar to jail cell doors. Despite the fact that he and they looked intangible, they seemed to weigh him greatly.

"Warden of Superjail…" the figure called in a haunting moan.

"I s-said wh-who the hell are you?" The fear the Warden tried to hide from the intruder showed anyway.

"In life I was your father, the Prison Mogul," the smoky man told him, "I've come to bear warning, my son."

"Father—that's impossible!" the living man squeaked in fear. "You've been dead for nearly a century! Damn soup; making me hallucinate."

"I am but a spirit now, my boy," the Prison Mogul explained, "Yes; I know I was never a big believer in the afterlife, but look at me now!"

The Warden stared deeply into the man's eyes, and his hunched shoulders slowly relaxed. "…Father…Is that really you?"

The other man nodded and reached for him. "Son…"

"Oh, Father!" Warden cried out, taking the Mogul's transparent hands in his solid ones. "I have so much to show you! I've built my dream jail! Come, come!" He sprang from the bed and led his father to the window. "See? It's my Superjail!"

The Mogul was less than gleeful. "Um, yes, my boy—that's actually what I mean to talk to you about. You see, I made some terrible mistakes in my lifetime, and I don't wish for you to do the same."

"Make mistakes? Father, I have succeeded! I rule this huge jail with an iron fist! I've followed in your footsteps, Father, and you were always a genius!"

"Son," the ghost looked him in the eye, "I always feared you would turn out like me. I am weighed with these chains and cell doors; the things I valued most in life. I was wrong in what I did; I valued business and power more than I valued the welfare of my staff and inmates. More than I valued you."

"…Father…"

"Here is the ordeal, boy," the Prison Mogul explained, "Tonight you are to be visited by three more ghosts. They will be showing you the error of your ways, and hopefully you will come out as a better man. Speaking of which, I should be leaving. The first ghost will be arriving next hour on the hour, and each of the other two a consecutive hour after that."

"But Father," the Warden said pleadingly, "you won't be staying while I go through this?"

"I shall always be with you, my boy," the Prison Mogul placed a spectral hand on his son's shoulder. "Merry Christmas, son!" He backed away in preparation to evanesce. Watching him, the Warden was struck with one more thought.

"Father, are you really forced to carry those heave chains around?"

The Mogul regarded the mentioned weights. "Oh, no, these are just for show. Hopefully they did their job. Goodbye, son!"

As the man in nightclothes waved, the man in chains returned the gesture and faded.

The Warden didn't remember whether he slept or not before the clock struck one.

Author's Note: Though I've never found any canon evidence to back it up, I used the notion presented in several places that the Warden controls the weather. I don't know.