Author's Note: This is a very weird oneshot I came up with this morning. Ollie Moor belongs to me. Syndrome belongs to Pixar. The Incredibles belong to Pixar. Everything belongs to Pixar! Except Ollie. And that piece of pizza over there. That's mine.

Don't flame, please. I get enough of that at school.

Not much attention is paid to how he survived because that's not what the story is about. Sorry, kids.

Ollie Moor was a peculiar secretary. For one, she worked for a supervillain. That was almost guaranteed to mess with your mind. Secondly, she had a crush on said supervillain. It made tense and close situations… awkward, to say the least. And finally, this villain had no idea that she loved him.

But things were different. Tonight was Christmas Eve. And she had to find a solution to one little issue that had seemed to come up.

Ever since the "Omnidroid Incident", her boss had been rather surly. Then again, nearly being killed because of an airplane turbine and the following explosion would make anyone rather crabby, in addition to having one of their own inventions turn against them and knock one of their other inventions off their wrist because it was supposed to control the robot, then having Supers come and steal it and leave it who-knows-where.

In other words, Ollie almost certainly had a plan that would mean the demise of the Incredibles and also the uprising of her superior. And it involved Santa Claus and spending her last fifty.

"I just told you, Ollie, I don't believe in Santa because one year I only asked for one thing, and he gave me coal! COAL! Granted, I sold it and made quite a bit off of it, but it wasn't what I asked for! There's no Santa Claus! So shut up about him already!" These words rang through Ollie's head as she prepared to write her letter to Santa. "Somehow, I've got to prove to Syndrome that there is a Santa," she thought, and began to write.

For as long as his supervillainous career had lasted, Syndrome had not celebrated Christmas.

He hadn't really seen a need. His employees didn't expect anything from him, and he didn't expect anything in return. Which was why he was surprised when his secretary, Ollie, had set up a Christmas tree.

"What in the world is that for?" he asked.

"It's for Santa to put the presents under," she replied, continuing to type whatever she was typing.

Syndrome leaned over the counter to catch a glimpse at what she was so focused on at the computer.

She was writing a typed letter to Santa.

"Is that my name-" Syndrome started, but Ollie pushed him away.

"Never mind what I do in my personal time. This is my break, you know."

Syndrome blinked and left.

Ollie had just been busy typing this year's letter to Santa when her boss arrived. A slight, fleeting blush crossed her face before disappearing.

"What in the world is that for?" he asked, pointing to the tree.

Ollie would've looked at him quizzically if she hadn't been focused on typing. She had just reached the part where she had to bribe Santa, the part with Syndrome in it. But really, who didn't know what a Christmas tree was?

"It's for Santa to put the presents under," she said after a pause.

Her redheaded boss then looked over at what she was writing.

"Is that my name-" he started to ask, but she pushed him away frantically. He couldn't know, then he'd already know what that mysterious box under the tree was for.

"Never mind what I do in my personal time. This is my break, you know."

Her boss blinked in somewhat confusion and headed off. Once he was out of earshot, she let out a heavy sigh.

"Now he really won't know what the present's for," she said as she printed out the letter.

The letter had been sent. The cookies were out. And Ollie sat in her chair, waiting, waiting for the jolly "Ho, ho, ho" to come down. She wrote him a letter promising him benefits if he came. She knew that normally he wouldn't (since she was the only one who believed and she wasn't exactly on the "nice" list) but even Kris Kringle can be convinced with a little bribery.

Her Christmas letter had really been more of a Christmas package, seeing as how the present she had requested for her boss was quite unique and Santa would have to have a model. She had hoped her boss wouldn't be mad when he found out what was going on.

Ollie dozed off just momentarily, and when she woke found a very irritated looking Santa in the room.

"Ollie Moor, you've been a very bad girl this year. Why should I give presents to you?"

"If you were paying attention, fat man, you would've known from my letter that the present isn't for me," she growled.

"He was even worse than you were!"

"Would you rather suffer the consequences of not handing over the technology? I know you have it."

Santa sighed. "I have the duplicate and the modifications made. Where's the money?"

"I can't believe that I have to pay for a present from Santa Claus," Ollie mumbled as she handed Santa the fifty. "But then again, that's bribery for ya. Stick it under the tree in my office."

"Ho, ho, holy hell what am I getting myself into?" Santa asked as he went into Ollie's office. Ollie smirked and waited until she was sure Santa had left. Then she peeked into her office. There, under the tree, sat a single present. She pulled out a Sharpie and began writing in her distinctive scribble on the tag.

"Why am I in here again?" Syndrome asked Ollie for the third time, and for the third time received no reply. Then the tree caught his attention.

It was completely lit up, unlike how stoic and drab it had been the rest of the Christmas season.

"Wow," was all the ginger could say.

"That's what I thought you might say. And now, for me to restore your belief in Santa." She handed him a present, wrapped in red paper with a gold stick-on bow on top. Looking at the tag, he saw that it read, "To: Syndrome. From: Santa." Written below Santa, in blue Sharpie, was a barely legible "and Ollie." That was why she typed. Her handwriting was horrible.

Syndrome blinked and slowly began to remove the wrapping paper.

"Could we speed it up a little, the only present I'm getting this year is the look on your face when you open the box."

Syndrome glared at his secretary but nevertheless ripped off the rest of the paper in one fluid movement. Under it was a white box. He lifted the lid and nearly jumped in surprise.

Lying in the box was not one but two zero-point energy wrist controls.

"Did you find the other one?" he asked, still staring at the stark-white gauntlets.

"Nope, I got it special order from the fat man himself. He had to take apart your original, but he made two completely new ones with all the old functions and one new one. Try them on."

Syndrome put them on and admired the look, then flinched when Ollie fired a laser at one.

"WHAT WAS THAT FOR?!"

"Look, it didn't come off."

He smiled. Ollie was right, the control had remained on his wrist.

"It has an airtight force field around it as long as it's worn. You can still push the buttons, but it's completely impervious to damage. At least, they better be, those cost me a pretty penny."

"Ollie, you have to hold me to this. On New Year's Day I am going down to the North Pole and I am going to somehow get the big man to get me presents for life, regardless of where I am on the 'naughty' list."

"You sure you can do that?"

"Hell, Ollie, if you can bribe Kris Kringle with money, I'm sure I've got SOMETHING he wants."

End

Look for the sequel, "New Year's Mayhem," coming soon. Probably around New Year's.