Yeah, sorry for the late posts. Again.

General notice: When I have time, I will be reviewing previous chapters (fixing typos and such) and re-submitting them.

Winds in the East, mist comin' in.

Like something is brewing and 'bout to begin.

Can't put me finger on what lies in store,

but I feel what's to 'appen all 'appened before.

Bert; Mary Poppins

"You, again?!" The contempt in Sting's voice was so thick it could have been cut with a knife.

The enormous shadow of Pitch's hand momentarily blotted out the light from the skylight and passed over the still-burning fireplace. The fire immediately puffed, and went out. Sting's contempt flickered to amazement.

"Hey, wow! I didn't know you could do that!"

"Stay focused!" Reminded the old man.

"Oh, yeah." She turned her attention back to the matter at hand.

"What did you offer them to make then cooperate?" She motioned to the Angels. "What do you get out of this?"

Pitch's voice was as smooth as grease on a waxed floor. "Let's simply say that it was a mutually beneficial deal."

"Sting!" Called Jack. She turned, and the old man threw her a light-up baton that had been found on the floor. The Angels had disabled it, but the old man – as its designer – had easily reactivated it. As soon as Sting's fingers wrapped around it, the baton blazed up and glowed ever brighter. She hurled it at the balcony directly above her. For a few brief moments, Pitch was clearly visible in the light along with the unmistakable figures of seven Weeping Angels. One of them had cracks all over its body, as though it had been shattered and pieced back together again. Three others were toting large sacks. But the one that drew Sting's eye was the one standing closest to Pitch. In its hand was a broken stick – the other half of Jack's staff. One of Pitch's hands held a perfectly round glass ball, and in the instant before he snuffed out the light from the baton Sting heard the old man give an affronted gasp from behind her.

"My snow globes!"

As soon as the light was out, there was a sound of breaking glass, and a swirling, colorful portal opened directly behind where Pitch had been standing. Sting turned invisible and darted forwards. Pitch had already disappeared through the portal by the time she got up there, but she blasted the Angel with Jack's staff into a pile of rubble right as it was halfway through and snatched up her prize. Unfortunately, she didn't have time to do much else before two nightmares barreled into her from out of the portal, slamming her against the balcony rail and causing her to lose her invisibility. Baba had hidden himself in Sting's pocket, but as he tried to crawl out he lost his balance and tumbled into the abyss beyond the railing with a shocked squeal.

"Baba!" She wheezed.

The Nightmares tried to mush her into the floor with their front hooves, but she threw up a force-field and pushed them back. They immediately fled back into the portal, which closed behind them. The Angels, obviously, were long gone. Sting gasped for air, picked herself up, and flew back across to where Jack and the old man where waiting. Baba was already there ahead of her.

"There you are! You had me worried." The rat rolled his eyes in mock exasperation as Sting picked him up and settled him on her shoulder.

"Vhere did he come from?" asked the old man.

"Uh . . . with me?"

"No, no, he appeared on rail. Out of nowhere."

"Ah, that. Baba can teleport; he can go instantly from one place to another." She cleared her throat and passed the other half of Jack's staff to him. "Here you go."

Jack's face lit up as he grabbed it back. "Thanks!"

"Still broken. Is there any glue-" She broke off as Jack took the broken ends of his staff and pressed them together. A blue light flashed from between the pieces, and in less than half a minute the staff was whole again. He sighed in relief.

Sting's eyes widened as she whistled in admiration. "Never mind then." She turned her attention back to the old man. "I'm Sting, by the way. What should I call you?"

"I am Nicholas St. North; simply North to my friends."

"Nice! Nicholas St. North is a way better name than Santa Claus."

While they were speaking, several large furry creatures had appeared and were now beginning the process of setting the Workshop to rights. One of them came over to North and began to grunt to him in a strange language. Sting took off her mask and flipped her hood back revealing a thin, but attractive face, and a wild mass of neon red hair. Her left eye was crowned in a beautiful shiner, but the discoloration was fading fast. Jack tried not to stare, but it was difficult. He felt as if he'd met Sting somewhere before, and wondered briefly if that hair would glow in the dark.

Sting waited for North to finish before asking "How soon can we go after Pitch?"

North sighed. "It seems Pitch has stolen all my snow globes. Ve must vait until more can be made." Sting pressed her lips together and fumed without speaking. Jack impatiently thumped his staff. North turned to face them and eyed Sting questionably. "It von't take long. But, who are you exactly?"

"Someone who knows quite a lot about the Angels that were helping Pitch. I met Jack a few hours ago, and when he was coming here I made him bring me with him." North looked at Jack who shrugged as if to say 'Hey, I don't know much more about her than you.'

Meanwhile, the furry creatures had been moving about, lighting torches and placing them in various outlets on the walls. Sting stuck her hands in her pockets and wandered away from the other two, admiring the workshop now that she could see it. A twist of her head confirmed that Jack and North were watching her curiously, so she bent her knees and jumped fifteen feet over to the fireplace which still hadn't been relit. There, she raised her hand and fired a short, but intense, beam from her fingers. The logs in the fireplace jumped and burst into flame. Jack stared at her with surprise on his face; North, with a mix of surprise and annoyance. If either of them had any doubt that Sting enjoyed showing off her abilities, that doubt was now gone.

"If I may I azk," North paused, and Sting nodded in consent, "where did a human learn to fly? Where did theze powers come from?"

"I was born with them – but they didn't manifest until I was seven years old." She thought it prudent not to mention the traumatic circumstances that had triggered this manifestation. North looked as though he still wanted more information. "See, I'm a mutant. I have an extra gene that most humans don't have which allows me to generate energy and manipulate it almost any way I want." She held up her hand and formed a small sphere as a demonstration. "As for learning how to fly, and controlling my powers, I taught myself."

"Really?" Asked Jack. "That's what I did!"

Sting's face lit up. "How was it? I gave myself a solid week of vertigo." She snorted. "Couldn't stand up without falling over." The three of them had been moving towards each other and now stood only a few feet apart.

Jack winced. "Ouch. That didn't happen with me, but it did take the first fifty years to get good. Why do you call yourself Sting?"

"That might be my real name, for all you know. Naw, I'm kidding." She dissolved the sphere and sent a small beam of energy to zap him on the hand. Jack yelped and flapped the aggrieved body part.

"Hey!" He said indignantly. "That really . . ." He paused. ". . . stings."

North nodded thoughtfully. "Makez zense."

A loud crash sounded from behind him and Jack. One of the large furry creatures let out a string of frustrated gibberish. North groaned and hurried off in the direction of the noise, stopping briefly to turn around.

"Don't cause any trouble!"

Sting pretended to look hurt. "Us? Cause trouble?"

Jack pulled his best kicked-puppy face. "Why would we ever do that?"

North shot them one final glare and hurried off. As soon as he was out of earshot Sting turned to Jack.

"I'm tempted to ask, "What should we blow up first?" but this place is already beat up enough as it is. What are those big, furry guys called?"

"Yetis."

"Seriously? Real yetis? What are they, bodyguards?"

"No, actually they make the toys."

"Really? What about the elves?"

Something short, wearing a tall red cap, toddled towards them. Jack waved his staff at it and froze it to the ground.

"Mostly, they just get in the way." He whispered in a confidential tone.

Sting shook her head and sighed. "Well, there goes a chuck of my childhood."

Jack sniggered and turned towards the fireplace. When he turned back around Sting was holding a small digital camera.

"Where'd you get that?"

"I had Baba zip it to me from my room - not everyone can say they've been to Santa's workshop, and I want proof." She raised the device and aimed it towards him. "Smile!"

The shutter clicked, and Sting had a fine picture of an undamaged corner of the workshop with Jack smiling his most attractive smile in the foreground.

"Groovy!" She showed Jack, then passed the camera back to Baba. "Thanks, Buddy!" Baba took the camera, vanished, and returned without it a few seconds later.

"How does he do that?"

"I think he can dematerialize his molecules and reassemble them wherever he wants to be."

"Where'd he learn that?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure. I found him on the street when I was ten and took him in. I suspect he used to be a lab rat." Baba wilted at these words, and she stroked his fur soothingly. "He doesn't like to talk about it." She paused and frowned slightly. "The first fifty years?"

"Huh?"

"You said it took you the first fifty years to get the hang of flying. How old are you?"

"About 300 years old."

Sting raised her eyebrows. "Holy Moses, you sure look good for your age."

"Thanks."

"So, then, how'd you get your powers? Were you born with them? And where did you score the immortality?" She added in a lighthearted tone, "Not that I'm asking for myself, I've got three older brothers and a best friend who might want to know."

Jack didn't feel comfortable with telling her, but it would have been awkward to not to after the information she'd shared about herself. He would have been surprised to know that Sting wasn't usually so willing to share information concerning herself or her companion with people she'd recently met. Until she got to know someone really well, most of the personal questions they asked would be answered with "That's for me to know and you to find out" or "Now what fun would it be if I told you everything right now?" or "It's the magic of my fabulousness" or something equally indirect.

"Um, about 300 years ago I took my little sister to a frozen pond to go ice-skating. Only the ice was too thin, and while I was able to save her from falling through . . . I wasn't as lucky." He had been awkwardly looking at the ground as he spoke but now he lifted his head towards Sting, desperately hoping she would ask him to elaborate on what happened next.

She didn't. In fact, she didn't even ask any of the thousand questions rampaging through her brain. Her eyes widened and her mouth fell open slightly while her mind tried to process what her ears had just heard.

"Okay, well THAT was way more macabre than what I was originally expecting." She took a deep breath and looked up. "Say, what are all those lights on the globe for?"

Jack was relieved at this deliberate change of topic. "They're kids. Kids who believe in us. The Guardians." He clarified.

Sting glanced back at enormous "G" in the middle of the rug they were standing on. "G for Guardians! Guardians of what?"

He smiled fondly. "Of Childhood. We protect children all over the world."

"That's amazing!" Her eyes turned orange as her interest was aroused. "How do you decide who gets to be a Guardian? Do you take a vote?"

"No, the Moon tells us who to choose."

Sting wasn't sure if she had heard correctly. "The . . . Moon?" She exchanged a look with Baba. "You do know the Moon is a rock, right?"

Jack immediately saw where her confusion lay, and was about to clarify that it wasn't the Moon itself but the Man who lived in the Moon, when the ground at their feet caved in and a massive red flower with its petals tightly closed bloomed out of the stone.

"Whoa!"

"Oy vey! What the heck is that?" She poked it cautiously.

"I don't know, but it's probably from Bunny." He bent over and laid his fingers on it, and immediately it sprang open, releasing a small atomic bombs worth of brightly colored powder. Sting yowled and tried to shield her face.

"Trouble at the Warren." Said Jack when the brief onslaught had ended. "We need to tell North."

He took off for the balcony rail and dove over. Sting shot after him. She followed him down three stories, then pushed past him when she heard North's voice coming from behind a door. Pulse pounding with anticipation of another battle, she flung open the door and announced:

"The beacons are lit! Gondor calls for aid!"

Her brothers and best friends would have immediately understood this Lord of the Rings reference and sprung into action, but here the only reactions she received were confused looks – not only from Jack and North, but from the Yetis inside and outside the room.

Finally, Jack translated. "Trouble at the Warren."

"AH-HA!" Roared North. Then he raised an eyebrow at Sting. "Vhy didn't you zay so?"

"I'm not sure she was speaking English." Jack kidded.

Sting glowered and stuck her tongue out at him.

Two yetis brought North a thick red and black coat, a black fur hat and two machetes which he stuck in his belt. A new batch of snow globes had been finished, so in less than ten minutes since Pitch and the Angels had left the Workshop, North, Jack, and Sting were on their way.

"By the way," Sting murmured to North as they ran (well, he ran, she hovered beside him) "I wrote you a letter when I was nine asking you for a genuine lightsaber. Did you ever get it?"

"You azk me this now?!" There was no time for an answer as he pushed open two large wooden doors and led them into the beginning of a long icy tunnel. Sting considered temporarily abandoning the others and shooting herself thought the passageway like a bullet from a rifle, but changed her mind when a second set of doors was pulled back to reveal a hot-rod of a sleigh pulled by six reindeer. Jack grabbed her arm and excitedly pulled her after him as he bounded in the back. North climbed into the front and took the reins.

"Are we ready?" He called. The reindeer pawed the ground in anticipation.

"Tally ho!" Sting hollered in response. North slapped the reins, and they were off like a rocket. Sting's feet promptly lost their traction and she thudded into the back of the sleigh. They accelerated at an impressive pace, passing some type of control tower, and spinning in a loop-de-loop before shooting off a wooden ramp and hurling into the sky.

"BLASTOFF!" North shouted. Jack and Sting, who'd been whooping like maniacs the entire way down the tunnel, leaned out to watch the Workshop fade into the distance. It seemed a lot less oppressing now that most of the windows were lit up. North took a snow globe out of his coat and spoke into it.

"Bunny's Warren." He threw the globe ahead of the sleigh and, exactly like when Pitch had done it, it burst into a fizzing mass of swirling colors.

Not entirely sure how good my Russian accent is. I can speak a decent Russian accent, but writing it is something else altogether.