Spirit

Part One of Two

Characters: Zechs, Noin, Hilde, Treize, Une, Mariemaia, Sally, Mrs Peacecraft, Mr Peacecraft, Dorothy, Quatre, Relena

Warnings: swear words, OOCness. This is a crack!fic, beware.

Notes: Most of characters are the elves, of the Santa's workshop kind. This takes place in the North Pole and the C date is fast approaching. Each of the characters are basically miserable slobs and as the title suggests are much needing some spirit.

It was a perfectly normal day in the North Pole. Therefore there was no reason while Zechs the elf would not be smoking behind the reindeer condos. Yes, condos. Zechs was an elf on his mother's mother's side and enjoyed that perks. Long lasting youth for instance. He had not reached the twilight years where you were an old moldy man (or woman, who knows what the future of surgery may bring) much like a zombie leper whose limbs repeatedly fall off, many elves commit suicide at this point after having a party. What was life without a party after all?

Long ago he had realized that Santa could never actually fire any of his worker, abuse them or their families. Since then he had barely shown up for a day of work. He never actually told any of the other elves. After many years and they had still had not realized his genius, Zechs realized he was much better off. He also paid some credit to his much suffering mother who had forced him to attend law. From those years he had never understood crime, when there were so many ways to make money or scam somebody without breaking the law. Idiots, what was he was frequently heard saying.

To the surprise of Zechs but basically not the rest of population of the North Pole, Zechs was greatly disliked by a great many of normally decent and hard working people, elves and other assorted creatures. I mean, he had once said affecting an Irish accent or maybe he was drunk after all the Irish are always drunk, I'm just so cool, you know? Before passing out someone had attempted to punch him but Zechs had swayed at the wrong moment, laughed and fell on the ground in a stupor. The other elf then proceeded to kick him in the guts before running away very quickly.

There was one reason that Zechs was allowed to be the arsehole he was without being permanently waiting in the ER. His cane. Long and black, he waved it about, occasionally striking an elf or a sprite. Given to him by the grand witch of them all, Dorothy. A woman of incomparable beauty and wit, she had a great dislike of the masses and lived with her husband the richest man in the world, Quatre Winner in a palace of ice. He was generally undoing his wife's sometimes intentional damage. But what could he do, he complained to his friends, scratching at his bondage collar, he was Dorothy's bitch.

The cane was a gift to Zechs after he had introduced Dorothy to Quatre and the rest had been history. Whipped history actually, but who's complaining? Dorothy had been very pleased with Zechs and in a rare moment of stupidity had given in to his desires to have the greatest cane in the world. It had been 1872 and they had been all the rage. Since then Zechs had been a figure of great scary proportions and could have been in a position of power if he had not been so lazy.

But he was.

Santa, or Father Peacecraft-Claus as he was known had married into his wife's family business after the original Santa Claus had retired to the Bahamas cackling with evil, vowing never to return to the icy shit hole. Father Peacecraft-Claus had regretted coming to the waste land since then. Sure, it was pretty sweet going to all the houses (except those not wealthy enough for presents, being Christian didn't even count now) in one night. Sure, he had felt up occasionally the pretty new wife or the mature scarlett woman, but really, hands on skills!

Pity his wife didn't see it that way. She was currently knitting, she was always knitting. When you lived in a climate where when it was warm you could go out in only ten layers, there was a lot of wool to be knitted. But she was also waving about the needles very closely at his eyes whenever he tried to get back his balls. Mrs Peacecraft was the daughter of Santa Claus and was a witch herself. She was also very tired of living with two insufferable men. Sometimes sweetness could take you this far then the needles have to come into play.

So she had taken away her husband's balls. It was a pity. For her husband that is. The new Santa was generally loathed by most of the North Pole and it was only through good PR via the Coca Cola company that they had managed to stay afloat during the turbulent years of the 20th and 21st century. Mrs Peacecraft felt it was time that she took the world by the balls, this time not by spirit of materialism or the elves of consumerism but by her husband's balls. What were the powers to a witch, if one could not use them?

Dorothy regarded the latest portrait of her husband with a proud smirk. He was a beautiful person, inside and out and she exploited that to full measure. However she full well knew that her husband would not have let her exploit him unless he liked it. It was another reason to smirk. And so she did.

A silver tray come in existence beside her elbow. On the highly polished surface was a silver envelope with the red and green emblem of the Claus's. Picking it up, Dorothy caressed the soft as silk paper before opening the letter with one long red nail that she sharpened with a little magic. Inside was a pale green paper, heavy with silver gilt and ruby red writing

Behind her the portrait of Quatre Winner was slowly undressing himself as the real one ate a full English breakfast far away from England. Leaning into the oil smelling portrait Dorothy sighed for the future events as the ghost like arms of the portrait trailed between the strands of her long blonde hair.

Hilde had worked had Santa's workshop since she was sixteen and generally hated every minute of it. But with seven younger siblings and a sick mother, there seemed little else she could do. She still had seven younger very lazy sibling and a sick mother, but now those sibling were working under her control and her mother was in a spa in Lisbon. Hilde was the person who really ran the construction of all the toys that Santa delivered. That is to say, she was one who managed while Howard was the one who invented and made the actual things.

This year he was attempting to show her that a dancing cow was all the public needed, after all hadn't those singing fishes gone done so well...? Hilde hated the cow, and hated the singing fishes with a deep intensity, but she realized the stupidity and public and the ability to make a quick buck. This new bullshit item would probably make billions, knowing her luck. She sighed and nodded to Howard as he correctly interpreted her look to begin mass production.

Walking along dismally, she noticed at she looked at a calendar that it was fast approaching the dreadful C-day. Blast, she thought after several more descriptive elvish words that unfortunately cannot not be translated, another C party where I'll have to act like a priggish bitch while everyone else gets loaded and flirts with anyone... Hilde after innumerable years working in Santa's workshop refused to utter or even think the dreaded C word. It was deplorable nonsense she had muttered to herself as she drew another big paycheck. It seemed this year looked to have another miserable end. She kicked the ground and fell down as the world exploded around her.

If there was one thing that Treize knew it was that his daughter was bent on world domination. He kept on saying to the mother of his child that she had got it from her side of the family. After opening her mouth for a moment, she could only ruefully agree. Then she frowned and hit him on the head, commented wryly that he was a sly bastard and ought to die a slow and painful death for dare saying that about her darling precious Mariemaia. There was a reason why the two had divorced and it was plain clear that world domination was not the only thing that ran in the Barton family. And why the hell had she named their daughter Mariemaia? Was that even a name for god's sake?

So when he heard the boom shaking the foundations of Santa's workshop he knew at once that this was not some tiny error in the alchemy that Howard or one of the Doctors without a real degree had schemed up, but his darling precious daughter. Bugger, he thought and wondered as he sprinted down and up and sideways the twisting corridors of Santa's workshop if his insurance covered this. It probably didn't, he grimly fumed, there was never an eventuality for your daughter blowing up Santa's workshop. Never. Until now, Treize had never thought of this, but now he had, he was sure to include it in his next meeting.

As he reached the site of carnage where stuffed toys innards they about in disarray and ipods lay shattered, he started hearing two things. One was immediately recognized as he daughter's evil high pitched laughter and the other was the wailing of the elves. One elf lay silent, staring at the disaster with a blank expression on her face. A cut was bleeding slowly on her forehead and she seemed out of this world.

Treize at once thought her very pretty and quaked slightly as he saw that she was head of Santa's workshop. This could mean big trouble for him. He might be a mighty ice wizard general whose ruthlessness knew no bounds but she was one cankerous bitch if he knew his spy reports and Treize knew his spy reports. Then, as if coming out of her own private world, she turned and looked at him full on. She was rather small and her hair was cut very short, but the way her eyes flashed, Treize knew that he was attracted to her. He started thinking of love spells and if he knew any as she descended on him in full elvish rage.

Sally, much to her surprise could drink a martini with no fingers, or hands for that matter. After many years as a reindeer she supposed she could have gotten used to idea, but she still longed for the time she had spent as a doctor during the Vietnam war before she had died and been reborn with the memories of Doctor Po still in her mind. Her reindeer mind. She tried telling people, reindeer, she amended, but they had looked at her strangely before asking if she could piss off. She generally did. One thing she appreciated about being a reindeer, a special reindeer that is, was the ability to fly. Away from danger, she later, much later, added, often out of breath and behind locked door.

She had been the one who had protested against their living quarters in a shed. It was deplorable, cold in the winter, then adding snidely, when was it not winter? It was bad enough sharing with the rest of sleigh team, but she could spit in Blitzen's hay the stalls were so close and crowded. And the food for instance... three days later a crew of elves assembled and build twelve identical condos, one for each reindeer. Everyone as usual forgot Rudolf, but he was a right old bastard anyway, so no one really cared, even Sally. He now lived in the abandoned barn, holding stag parties nearly every night.

It was then that she met and was made one of his few friends, of Zechs. They both shared a dislike of the North Pole, Santa Clause and a general loathing for every single living being. They realized that two against six billion was much better than one. That, Sally had thought to herself, and she was scared shitless of the cane. Slowly over time she had learned the secrets of the cane was planning to steal the cane away. All she needed was for Zechs to do one day's work and her work as a reindeer witch former doctor would be done. It was harder than she thought it would be.

A long time ago, Relena had realized her entire family was stark raving mad and she was probably the one who was most likely to end in a mad house because she was getting driven mad by their antics. She had decided to visit her family in the Bahamas was dreadfully inconsolable when was she taken back home away from her pretty pool cleaners and cocktail waiters. Luckily she soon hooked up with the North Pole's hip elvish crowd or otherwise she had written dramatically in her pink fur journal, she would have gone crazy!

Being part of the elvish hip crowd she had soon noticed was not very exclusive. In the North Pole nearly everyone who had their hips and were elves partied all night long when their curfew permitted it. The only one that seemed uninterested were Hilde the Head Elf, but Relena had been told that she was a bitch anyway. Even Zechs, to her eternal embarrassment, occasionally joined the party. The elves were also not very romantic. So instead of having a massage by a half naked boy, she was given special yellow sno cones. Relena sighed, the elves of the North Pole had no taste and manners. After receiving the sno cone in disbelief she had shoved it in the deserving bastard's face. That had felt satisfying.

It was then she had decided to embrace not only her elvish heritage but her witchy powers. But how? She had never paid attention to her mother's lessons, and could not bare to go back and say she actually hadn't been listening. So who else was smart enough, a brilliant enough witch and who lived within shopping distance. One name was what she was told at the automatic one dollar fortune telling machine. Dorothy, Dorothy Catalonia, the worst witch in the North Pole. That was before an explosion rocked the building. Turned out Mariemaia had blown up something again.

Relena swore. She hated living in the North Pole with her stupid of their crackers family. Everyone was so silly! They weren't normal! They gave her yellow sno cones! How cheap was that? Couldn't even buy her something, the tight bastards. She didn't fit in. Relena missed her adoptive family the Dorlians who gave her all the pool boys she desired and an expense account that hit the roof. Bloody family. She had to get out of the North Pole if it was the last thing she did!

Days had gone by without Noin having to do her job. It was a wonderful world where one could just laze about an eat nachos for breakfast... and dinner and lunch for that matter too. But she did love Nachos so what mattered?Noin couldn't cook that well, after the third kitchen remodeling her parents had banned her from entering the room. It was a pity since that was the only exit out of the house as her family was currently too poor to be labelled snow poor. And there was a lot of snow about.

That had begun thirteen years as a hermit. It had been fun. Noin had actually enjoyed day time tv and had slowly amassed a medium sized fortune by being a very good porn editor. Add an inch here, little more boobage there... so simple and yet so profitable. She never knew why more young people didn't enter the business. Because of her hermit like life, she decided to take the role seriously by looking like a hermit. This included never washing her hands and shaving her eyebrows off. Hey, it saved on cleaning bill and her parents couldn't be happier.

Eventually the fun had ended and the Head Elf of Santa's workshop had conscripted her. She was an elf and therefore once she was of age she had to work at Santa's workshop, unless... You had one of the few public sector jobs. Noin had faked her resume, then when inside showed the sheriff her real resume and she had been hired on the spot. Since then the Head Elf had hated her guts and her cushy cop out job as a cop.

But now she was being forced to actually do her job. This wasn't in her contact she fumed. Until she glanced at and realized that it pretty much was. Damn her for signing the stupid thing, must stop eating vegetables. There was another reason Noin ate only Nachos. Her profound fear of vegies, she lived in dreaded fear of them and whenever something went wrong in her life she blamed them. Even through she had eaten one since the Great Carrot War of '89. Noin glared around her, at the people and the suspicious vegetable like canapes as the grand ice ballroom filled with guests.

Lady Une watched as various citizens of the North Pole entered her domain. As Head of Security she controlled this entire building. She resisted the urge to laugh manically. These fools, she scoffed, entrusting her with such a large responsibility when they ought to have known that she was the ever loyal henchwoman, beloved aide and kickass fighter of the great wizard, Treize!

It was quite simple, she had reasoned to the strangely unfocused general, we get invited, but of course don't come, she added slyly. And then I blow up the entire building! Won't that be marvelous? She had asked Treize. He had murmured something and Une had taken that as an affirmative.

Of course, it was slightly embarrassing to have to borrow the bomb from Mariemaia, but the kid was soon pleased with a new pack of explosives. Where, why and when she used them, Une never asked. But she had considered, it was always good to have Mariemaia on your side and not be on the opposing team. She would have lost and Une hated losing. Especially when she had to admit defeat to Treize.

Tick. Tick. Tick. Une smiled. The bomb would be going off in a very short time. She could hardly wait to tell Treize when she saw the man himself in a white tuxedo. He was talking to a short surly elf, who was poking him occasionally with what looked like a taser. Apparently her batteries had run out.

Une felt her mouth drop. He was here...? She dropped her gaze to the bomb. There was hardly any time to spare!