It is christmas eve and even the Jump City jail is getting into the festivities. The christmas bush was decorated, this year'sroast turkey was Johnny Rancidand people were screaming as Mammoth built a snow fort in the grounds.

Santa Claws, Double edged Candy Canes, Missile-toe being horded away in the vault to avoid the disaster of last year. However, they were not able to remove the worst problem of the jail at christmas... the inmates themselves...

"Hello my duckies! I'm back!"

"Oh good grief…" moans Kitten. "The old toff for brains is back." she rolls her eyes and continues to bury herself in her Gossip magazine. Mod is placed in his cell, no worse for wear at 90.

"I guess security at the old folks' home isn't that pizzazz." says Killer Moth, doing advanced calculus in a cell beside his daughter's private cell (Much like the design of her room). "Not that it is any better here…"

"You're not staging ANOTHER breakout are you dad?" mumbles Kitten, careful not to awake the guards. "Haven't you had enough? It's almost christmas too for crying out loud."

"I'm sorry, but I have to do it. Christmas is a great time to rob too." he whimpers as the deaths stare wears him down. "Force of habit."

"Strong am I in the force, but not that strong." comes a voice from the next cell. "If he had come in sooner, maybe we would have let him in on the jail break."

"Oh shut up tubby. I want to start earning big bucks in the corporation, and I can only do that after my sentence is done." snaps Kitten. "Star wars freak!"

"That's CONTROL Freak to you little miss!" says CtrlF (Control Freak) rasping a fat raspberry through his bars. "Just because YOU want to wait for your small kiddie sentence to be over doesn't mean us 'adult' sentenced criminals have to as well!"

"Swat him dad."

"Kee-yah!" goes Killer moth, and with one arm stretched smacks CtrlF in the face and into the back wall with a dull thud.

"Hey! Be patient! I'm almost through!" says Mumbo, peeping from behind a brick. "Another spoon would be handy but not particularly necessary." All eyes turn to Kitten's mug of hot cocoa with spoon still in.

"You're lucky it's Christmas eve… I'm in a generous mood." she mumbles, passing them the tool.

"Much appreciated." bows Mumbo and he continues shovelling.

"If my daughter wants to go straight that is her decision and I am proud of her." says Killer Moth. "At least you dumped that blood sucking boyfriend of yours…"

"We're having a small dispute, that's all." says Kitten. "Me and Fang will be back together again, you can count on it. He has nice legs. Besides; you only hate him because he devoured one of your experiments."

Killer Moth grumbles and continues to pack his belongings for the run.

…

Mumbo continues to furrow and burrow the way out. This was the scheduled night of escape. Only half a foot of concrete left, most of which Killer Moth could probably smash through anyway, but they wanted a discreet exit. He rubs his dirty long blue nose "When I get out, the first thing I'll do is get me an adamantinum spoon… (drool) or maybe even a whole cutlery set!"

As he continues to dream of linen top hats and scented pine wands, he overhears the guards talking…

"Yeah, they need to question him first thing in the morning." says one guard to the other.

"And he stole millions?"

"Twenty million."

"Who'd have thought the old guy still had it in him?"

"Hey. If we can get the info off him first, maybe we'll get a promotion?"

"Get him to tell us where he hid the loot? It would be hard. He's more stubborn than a lid of old super glue."

"Maybe we can… persuade him?" smiles the guard, patting his baton in his hand. "Give him a nice christmas present?"

Needless to say, Mumbo was appalled, completely taken back and disgusted. Why didn't Mod tell them he had loot, the old scoundrel? He scuffled back to tell the others…

…

…

"Now where is that tea lad? Hurry up!" crackles the old Mod, almost twenty years later sitting on his bed in the infirmary. "Wat's you're name again? Bobin?"

"Robin Mr. Mod." says Robin Victor Garfield Roth Grayson. "Here it is." and he serves him his garlic and earl grey tea.

Robin had thick red hair that was shaped much like his father's in spikes. His eyes were a mix of blue and green that would often change colour. Though his father was not too willing to let him converse with a long time adversary, his mother thought it would be a good experience and very helpful for the poor old man as well.

(If you can't guess whose son he is, you have a good head for a Christmas pudding… just to be in the holiday spirits)

"Grr… I can't say I much like that name. Had a little argument with a chap by that acquaintance…" grumbles Mod, sipping his tea. "And what are you doing here anyway young sir? Eh what?"

"It is part of my social science curriculum sir."

"I meant; why me out of all the other old fogy's you could have picked eh?" Robin shrugs, but he guessed that Principle Kitten wanted to punish him for almost being caught flying in school again. "You do know that I'm not the give tips or give away free confectionary gents right? And I was a dangerous and loathsome villain in me younger days don't ya?"

Though he was disappointed in being told he was missing out on confectionary he shook his head. "Yes sir, it is none of my business what you did in the past… but…" he adds. "I am curious to where this story is going…"

"Ah, want to tell your chums about how old miss Killer Kitten used to be in the slammer?"

"Not really. I just like Christmas stories." Robin smiles.

"Kind and merciful lad, but not wise when you deal with the mistress of Hades." shakes Mod. Suddenly there is a long drawn continuos beep.

Mod coughs "Err, kick my life support will ya old fruit? The daft thing's on the blinks again." Robin gives a swift boot and he registers a pulse. "Ah, that's somewhat better. But back to what I we was chatting; I'm telling you now that she'll be one jolly hard toff to crack when she's up against ya. And don't shrug yourself, I know she sent you here as punishment, so get me my Christmas gruel and make it snappy!"

Robin got up to get the bowl of sugar coated gruel ration. It wasn't like he wanted to particularly protect his principle (Or harm anyone at all for that matter), but she was also one of the only ones to know his parent's secret identities, which would ruin all. It was sort of like a truce between them, not to tell if the other promised not to. On another note, travelling to the past and being mistaken for your father and then being passionately smooched by your principle does have psychological drawbacks.

Mod didn't usually have visitor; usually only very distant relatives with poison or his psychologists. The boy didn't even seem to mind talking to the old crone like everyone else. It was good to be able to talk to someone other than potential murderers and your psychologists believe it or not. But there was also something about the kid that reminded Mod about two other persons he knew… but he couldn't quite place who…

"Well, seeing as I have nothing better to do and you still have three hours… why not?" shrugs Mod, digging into his gruel. Robin eagerly listens. He loved stories. "Now where was I?"

…

…

"Twenty million?" whistles CtrlF. "Not bad for the old coot! Where is it hidden?" he menaces greedily.

"He won't tell. And he probably won't share it with us either. He's too smart for that." says Mumbo

"Hmm. If we drag him out with us, maybe he'll be grateful?"

"Or maybe he'll zap the youth from you like he did before?" says Kitten (Referring to 'Tales of Gotham and Jump City') "Why can't you boobies stay clean?"

"And why, little miss, are you reading my hypnosis book?" asks Mumbo.

"Eh-Heh…" she shrugs smiling. "Nothing in particular, just curious."

"Well it's clear twenty million is too big to pass up, especially when it comes just after a jail break and Christmas too." says Killer Moth. "We'll take him along as well then. Agreed."

"Firmly." says Mumbo, snatching his book back. "This might come in handy."

"Daddy! He snatched it from me!" whinges Kitten. "And he didn't say please or thankyou!"

SMACK

Mumbo flies into a wall.

"Hey, why share the cash with old man Mod anyway, when we could just get the info off him and scram?" points out CtrlF, making note not to pull any bad remarks at Kitten while her goliath father was around.

"My point exactly…" creaks Mumbo, peeling from the brickwork. "As soon as we get our gear we'll bust into his cell and 'withdraw' the needed directions to his stash."

Killer Moth ponders "Cruel, deceitful, treacherous and greed pasted all over it… I like it. Though I'd prefer to go in guns blazing."

"You three have fun, just remember to save some for me sweet daddykins." she says, going googly eyed and sweet voiced. CtrlF and Mumbo roll their eyes as Killer Moth gladly promises to give her more than half his share of the money for her christmas present.

…

…

"She is quite a deceptive and tricky lass isn't she lad." says Mod, sipping his tea again.

Robin nods but prods his pointer fingers. "She is sometimes… but it's not nice to call people such names." His mother had been very particulate on manners except when it came to gorging large amounts of food.

"All heart and no character." Mod shakes his head gravely. "You have to be more hateful young feller me lad. Makes a man out of ya!"

"Really?"

"And you're too gullible too to boot." adds Mod, finishing his tea. "What about another cuppa?"

"Alright sir."

"And too polite by far! You remind me of that soppy Starfire. Now she was a sap of a softy queen no end. So naïve and a regular little…"

"More tea sir?" he says again, but teeth clenched.

"That's more like it!" smiles Mod in his gangly denture grin. "Now on with the tale…"

…

…

After assembling their gear from the lock-up, the trio of villains, a fat one, a skinny one and a muscle bound one, head to Mod's cell on the dark side of the prison; kept for the people who were as solitary as an oyster, much like Mod. The guard was as asleep as a doornail.

"This is going to be a very merry Christmas." smiles CtrlF, rubbing his sweaty palms.

"I think this is the cell." says Killer Moth. He brings out some gadgets from his belt.

Mumbo steps up and stops him "The less they know the better." and he waves his wand at the door and it shimmers like water. "This is my part of the job so keep watch."

His companions armed and dangerous outside, Mumbo ventures in head first into the door, his face appearing on the other side like some ghostly apparition.

"Mod? Are you in there?" he says peeping around.

"Eh what?" goes the sleepy Mod, rubbing his eyes. He sits up in his blue and red chequered Nightgown. "What's up Guv'ner?"

"Ah! You're awake!" and he steps in.

"Oh, it's you blue face." scratches Mod. "Hey? Aren't you dead yet?"

"Enough chat old bean. I have work to do." and he brings out his pocket watch and sways it in front of his face. Blue rays zapping into Mod's eyes. "Now tell me where you hid the money…"

"Eh? What money?"

"The money you stole."

"That glow must be handy for reading in the dark old chap!"

(With great restraint) "That is beside the point…"

"Can you change colours too?"

"Ignore that! Just tell me where you hid the loot!"

"Lute? Why on earth would I steal a lute Guv'ner?"

Mumbo breaks stance and scratches his chin "Dang, you must be too old to hypnotise or something… This will be harder than we thought. We may have to move the old man out…"

"Are you sure you ain't dead yet?"

"Yes I'm…" but then something particularily crafty pops up in his head. "I mean, yes I'm SURE I'm dead!" he smiles evilly.

"Oh! I thought so. Would you like a biscuit?"

"Ahem. No, I don't need one really. But I would like to know where you hid the stuff you stole. Just to satisfy my curiosity so I am not tortured forevermore for the rest of eternity."

"Oh, THAT!" laughs Mod. "Ho-ho. That's my little secret my recently departed associate."

"Oh come on my dear friend. I'm dead! Who can I tell? What would I do with the stuff when material things are no value to me?"

"Then why do you want to know?"

Mumbo was stumped there. The scrooge would be a hard nut to crack… hmm… Scrooge? And he has another flash of corny brilliance.

"You, sir are a bad man." says Mumbo in his best ghostly tone.

"And?"

"And so you will be forever punished with chains and things if you do not repent from your wicked ways!" and he magically makes himself glow green and chains appear all over him.

"Oh yes, I remember now! I almost forgot that! Thanks chum!"

"And to repent you must tell me where you hid the goods my old friend. Please?"

"I want my ghosts!"

"… What?"

"I want the ghost of Christmas Past, present and future before I decide to tell you anything old fruit. Its tradition; and IT IS ENGLISH!" and he hoists a flag by his bed and salutes. Mumbo rubs his sore temples. "I can expect the first ghost when the bell tolls one correct? Very good! Cheerio!" and he falls back abruptly asleep, snoring loudly.