The Steve Warz Holiday Special!

by The Compendium of Steve

Well it was bound to happen: a Christmas special featuring our favorite rag-tag bunch of Force-imbued heroes and heroines. Watch as they make enjoyment and find tender moments through the madness of the holidays, made more so by an unexpected guest. What twists and turns will happen this Christmas season? Well open yon gift to find out!

STEVE WARZ

CHRISTMAS SPECIAL!

It is a time of merriment for the galaxy. As part of a sanction issued by the Republic Senate, the final week of the Galactic Calendar is designated to host celebrations for major holidays from around the galaxy. For one week, all citizens, young and old, of every species, hail in the approaching new year in just about every spirit imaginable: brotherhood, kindness, family, generosity, fertility, you name it. And it serves as the one time of year that the famed Jedi, repeated defenders of galactic peace and upholders of reality, are given indisputable vacation time.

Indeed, everyone had every right to be in the Christmas spirit. What's that? Christmas doesn't exist in the Star Wars galaxy, you say? Well it sure as Sherlock does in this variation, so no Life Day for you! Seriously, what was with the Wookie holo-porn?

But I digress. All's fair game for just about anything to happen in these kinds of specials. Are there morals to be learned? Perils to be fraughted? Perhaps even a hackneyed teenage romance thrown in for the weeaboos. All these things and more are possible during this magical time of year! So sit your butts down and grab your favorite alcohol-laced holiday beverage, because here we go!

We turn to Coruscant, gleaming jewel capital of the Republic, as well as party central for the season, where the Jedi are getting into the spirit of decorating in preparation for the capital's most favorite holiday of all: Christmas. Oh what fun it is to ride! (Don't judge me)

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(Descend upon the teeming city planet of Coruscant. Much of the upper level of the cityscape is covered in a wide variety of decorations: wreaths, tinsel, ribbons, baubles, and a random arrangement of adorned pine trees. The walkways are filled with carollers, shoppers are running about more busily than usual, flyers mentioning upcoming events are plastered on almost every street-level surface, and overall there's an air of frantic merriment all over the planet. On a less bustling section of walkway near the government sector, we see two Jedi at work completing the final touches of the festive , serious-minded Copeland holds a ladder at ground level while the Jawa mascot extraordinaire Squishy totters at the top, putting up some ornaments)

Squishy: Steady, steady, keep it steady, Alex.

Cope: Just hurry it up. You've been at it longer than it should've taken.

Squishy: Almooooooooost got it! (Hooks on a star to a wreath string, but begins wobbling) Whoa Whoa Whoooa! (Flails about like a nut, shaking up the ladder before flinging himself off) WAAAAAAAAH!

(Squishy falls sideways far from the ladder, falling squarely into a trash receptacle on the other side of the walkway with a clunk. Watch him as he is shot around through a long series of twisting tubes beneath the city surface, yelling, until finally he's blown out the other end into a waiting dumpster with a crash. After some silence he busts through the trash with arms raised and eyes lit up)

Squishy: WOO! That was so frickin' AWESOME! Yeah Heh!

(Hops out of the dumpster and begins his walk back up to the surface. A few minutes later he returns to Cope, who is now joined by Anna, stout former Sith and paramour to the taller Jedi)

Anna: There you are. Tossing yourself in the garbage again, are we?

Squishy: But it's so fun; I simply can't resist!

Cope: If you didn't do it every five minutes it wouldn't be so annoying. Also if I didn't have to stick around for you to come back each time.

Squishy: Aww, you're just jealous that I'm small enough to enjoy it.

Anna: Okay ya knuckleheads, the others are already done and waiting, and I volunteered to find your sorry butts, so let's move.

(And so they left. Several more minutes later they reach a small bustling outdoor plaza, where near some benches waited the other Jedi: frontman suave-master Jo, the loving couple of Will and Sara, and the six-foot Ssi Ruuk Sylvia)

Squishy: Sweetie!

(He dashes straight for Sylvia, and in a fast leap he reaches her, swings around her neck and stops in front to give her a kiss on her scaly muzzle)

Sylvia: Hey, what was that for?

Squishy: (Dropping down) Dunno. Probably still running off the adrenaline from my last ride.

Jo: Dumpster diving again, Squish? That explains it. You know we've been standing around here almost twenty minutes.

Will: You really need to reign in Squishy better, Alex.

Cope: (Flustered) And you're telling me this like the past several years isn't proof to how pointless an endeavor that is?

Sara: You could try violence: It worked that one time way back.

Anna: So more banter while just standing around. Swell!

Jo: Yeah yeah, let's just go back to HQ and report in. (The group begin walking, joining the rest of the hurrying walkway populace) Y'know, I didn't think vacation time would find me doing menial Republic work.

Sara: Not like you really had any other, more productive plans.

Jo: And that's the point: I was really looking forward to doing nothing for a change. In fact, I'd be doing nothing sooner if certain persons decided not to drag things out after everyone else finished for almost half an hour.

Squishy: I regret nothing!

Anna: At least you got your side of the decorating done, right?

Cope: Yes, Anna, I already told you.

Anna: Good. Don't want to go finding a chunk of bare wall glaring at me and killing the mood.

Squishy: So how was everybody else's jobs?

Anna: Wreaths were taken care of, no problem.

Sylvia: We also got the wrapping paper delivered where they needed to go.

Sara: Greeting card handling went swimmingly for me and Will, as well.

Jo: Heh, course it'd be super easy with you all paired up. But good ol' me can ensure there's enough pepperminty goodness strung up on this quadrant of the planet, all by my lonesome thank you very much.

Will: Jo, you nearly did as bad as Squish and Alex with the way you kept handing out candy canes to every average-and-above girl you passed by.

Jo: What can I say: the ladies just can't get enough of Jo's sugar stick.

Anna: Probably because of how compact it is.

Jo: HEY! Too low a blow for the holidays, Anna.

Sylvia: Well size doesn't amount to much. I mean Squishy is everything I could've wanted, and he still keeps things lively after all these years.

Jo: Oh come on, you too?

Sylvia: Tis the season, tee hee.

Jo: Even more reason to hole up for the holidays…

Squishy: Come on, ya humbug. The quicker we report in, the sooner you can mope to yourself.

Anna: Says the guy who screws around by playing in the garbage all day.

Squishy: Still no regrets! It's an excellent time-killer and I should've discovered it sooner.

Cope: God help us if you did.

(As they chat and walk, they pass by two dudes with rugged beards and shades, harassing a woman in Victorian dress with wrapped presents attached to the fronts of their crotches, all while sensual music plays)

Shady Guy: It's my D**k in a Box! My d**k in a box, bayaaaaabe; it's my D**k in a Box! HoooOOoooOO—

(Will rushes over with lightsaber drawn and swings it down, severing the box from the shorter man's pants. Immediately the music stops as the guy screams to the heavens in shock and agony, crumpling to the ground with arms held over his cauterized groin. His partner gives one horrified glance before cheesing it in the opposite direction)

Will: Has your decency been preserved, ma'am?

Lady: Why yes, kind sir. In the nick of time, I must say. Rather unsavory brutes. Thank you ever so much.

Will: (Nods) A pleasure, and Merry Christmas to you. (The lady curtsies and leaves) The nerve of some of these weirdoes.

Sara: Oh Will, you're just the sweetest gentleman.

(Springs up to give Will a peck on the cheek even while the mutilated swinger keeps screaming bloody murder next to them, foaming at the mouth for good measure as the couple rejoin the others. Some time later, we turn to the front of Republic Military Headquarters, which is decked out in the most high-grade, blast resistant tinsel and ornament array imaginable. Cut to inside, where the Jedi walk past several noisy cubicles filled with personnel handling the hectic yet important tasks of the season)

Officer1: I'm hearing that not enough chestnuts have been roasting over open fires lately. Light up downtown if you have to; I want these nuts hot!

Officer2: Alright, this is key: you just better not cry, and you better not shout. No I'm not making light of the situation. It's just very important you stay quiet until the dianoga finally leaves your apartment.

Officer3: Look here you idiot, I told you to deck the halls with "boughs" of holly; they don't even sound the same! Now return Ms. Whitaker back to the home, and for Thrawn's sake clean her up before you do!

(As they walk amid the questionable chaos, they come across a familiar scaly face: Admiral Ackbar, one of the great commanders of the Republic. He's wearing civilian winter wear and carrying around a covered dish, and brightens up at seeing the Jedi)

Ackbar: Ah, greetings there, Jedi. A pleasure running into you today.

Will: Greetings, Admiral.

Ackbar: I see Chris has you helping out with the preparations. Hope it's not too inconveniencing for you.

Sylvia: No, I say it's great to help out for the season.

Cope: To an extent.

Sara: Are you helping out as well?

Ackbar: No no. Most of the military staff has time off; it's only Chris, his personal staff and the Mega Man Corps. that are still at work. I'm simply here to see if anyone would care for some of my niece's fish cake. I simply adore them, but she just sent too much, and sadly there's been no takers.

Anna: Well there's a near lethal amount of mercury in them, as I recall from Squishy's last taste test.

Ackbar: Unfortunately there is that. But speaking of which, (To Squishy) Squishy, are the crew of the Jawa Home also taking vacation?

Squishy: Sorta. Tourists still coming in, so it's just a staff rotation for the season. Steezy's still manning the helm, though, so that's why he's not around.

Sylvia: Still a little too over-attached to that station, but hopefully we can coax him down when Christmas comes around.

Ackbar: Ah yes, I'm sure it will work out. But I've taken up enough of your time. Good holidays to you, and may the Force stay true as always.

Jo: Much appreciated there, Sir, and all the same to you.

(Ackbar nods before walking past them. The Jedi resume their walk and make it to the abrupt silence of the inner planning area, occupied by one individual: the shaggy-bearded, bespectacled, freckled ginger chief of operations and General of all Republic Military forces, Chris. They approach as he turns to meet them, revealing his Santa camo garb and the half-burnt stogey hanging from his lips)

Chris: Ah! If it isn't my favorite Jedi turned up at long frickin' last.

Will: We're the only Jedi.

Squishy: Except for my kids, Will.

Will: Of course.

Chris: Enough back and forth! (Pulls out cigar) What's the skivvy?

Sara: Greeting cards are distributed.

Sylvia: Wrapping paper is situated.

Anna: We got the place wreathed up like a national forest.

Cope: Random decorations have been hung up, barely.

Jo: And everyone's got a piece of Jo's sweet candy!

Chris: D**n glad to hear! (Tosses away cigar before bringing up a fresh one) With enough reliable people like you, we just might be able to pull this seasonal hoopla off.

Anna: How are things holding here?

Chris: (Pause to light cigar) Shaky, but doing well enough. Lookin' to be the biggest Christmas bonanza in years, and we're barely keeping up with the swell. A lot of people on this planet need reminding it's a time to be merry and show goodwill and s*** to one another. D*** depressing, really, but the sort of stress that gets my jollies all jimmified.

Squishy: But will we be able to keep it up till the end?

Chris: Sure as the cyanide capsules lodged up my hoo-haw. A celebration the likes no one's ever seen before, and I'll be darned if it all falls apart on my watch. (Flings away cigar as he turns around, lighting up another one) Of course, the higher-ups won't do with having just me and my hardened merry-makers keeping things afloat. Heard the governor's bringing in a consultant, organizer or something. Typical bureaucratic uncertainty. (Spits out cigar, only to replace it with another lit one, which he takes a puff from) And that's not the worst of it.

Sylvia: Worse?

Jo: How does something like that get worse?

Chris: Well pull up a rhetorical chair and I'll spill it. (Puffs out smoke before turning to the monitor bank at the other end of the room) I'm talking about vandals, here. A common threat to any boisterous festivity. We've dealt with them years before. Random punks, mostly street rats and orphans. This year, though, they've gotten more ambitious. (Brings up several images on the monitors) Already there's been thirty reports of illicit unseasonal graffiti, and twenty seven reports of government-hired carolers getting egged. They've also taken to the various decorations around the planet, swiping a good chunk of them and damaging others. They even got creative with some of them, as you can see here.

(An image pops up showing some wreaths arranged to spell out "Wanker")

Sara: Cheeky.

Chris: And they're going at it at an almost steady rate, leading to this bit of bad news. (Turns around, revealing two lit cigars in his mouth) Just ten minutes ago, we got word that most of the candy canes that had been put up were just as quickly taken down without a trace. Wrappers and all.

Jo: (Falls to knees) My Hard WOOOOOOOOOOOOORK!

Chris: Told ya it got worse. (Swallows both cigars and burps out a twin smoke ring) But when the first day of the festival week and grand parade arrives, we'll be cracking down on every whippersnapper and low-life scum that even thinks about causing trouble. We'll have patrols on the walkways, ready to truncheon any vagrant that so much as glance the wrong way. There will be order, and with it, uninterrupted merriment. It will be straight up Orwellian on my streets when that time comes, and you can bet your non-existant hemorrhoids on it.

Anna: Ha, if only you were this serious when it came to actual battle.

Chris: The holidays are a battle, Anna. It's every man, woman, child and goat for themselves to get the biggest piece of Christmas goose, the cheapest deals and the crispest of Kringles. You don't treat it with the caution and respect it demands it'll bite you in the a** with striped metal teeth. I've overseen a lot of Christmas' in this town, and lived through plenty of them before that. I've felt the pain, seen the misery, so I know what to expect. And neither rain, nor snow, nor insurgents, nor repressed holiday traumas will keep this year's celebration from going off without a hitch. (Stares up to the side with wide eyes) What's that, papa? No, I didn't mean to call your Skip-It dumb. I think it's the bestest gift ev— W-where are you putting that? No Daddy NOOO! (Stops to notice the uncomfortable looks he's getting, and coughs) So anyway, you've done your part. Go about your holiday business. I need to prepare for a Christmas commercial shoot. Makeup Lad!

(Scurrying in with a makeup kit is the unlucky lanky lackey Jennings)

Jennings: I still don't know why you couldn't get a proper beautician for this, Sarge.

Chris: Shut up and chap me. (Leans forward to receive Chap Stick on lips) Ohhhh, yeah, that balming feel. Mmmm so titillating, emphasis on the "titi-". Aw yeaaaaah…

(The Jedi wisely scoot away before outright half-running out of the room. Eventually they get back outside to freedom, losing themselves to the merry swarms of city-dwellers all to the sounds of "Wish You a Merry Christmas" played by nearby carolers)

Will: Welp, guess this means we finally have our Christmas freedom to ourselves.

Squishy: Hooray!

Anna: So what's everyone's plans for their paid time off?

Sara: I plan on all kinds of season snuggling with my hubby! ^w^

Will: Yeah, definitely that.

Squishy: Me and Sylvia planned on getting the kids to come by and visit, have Christmas dinner and all that, but that's looking a bit uncertain. Sally is still doing her concerts, Stan might want to spend some time just with Sentina, and we still don't know where Rick is.

Sylvia: However, a bit of exciting news is that we're made arrangements to have my father come by for the holidays.

Cope: Oh wow, really? Here on Coruscant?

Sylvia: Yep! It's been so long since I got to see him, and hopefully that will be incentive enough for Steezy to stop working and come here.

Will: You know we really don't know much about your parents, or really anything about your planet. Except for the… religious zealotry, and war-mongering, and forced enslavement practices, and—

Sara: That's enough, Will! They're not like that anymore… right?

Sylvia: Yes, the last of the extreme traditionalists had been exiled from Lwehkk years ago. Even before that, my father was never very grounded in the old ways, otherwise he wouldn't have let Squishy set foot anywhere on the planet.

Anna: Still must be brutal being a chieftain. He's a chieftain or leader sort, right?

Sylvia: A general, actually. At times harsh, but he looked after me and my brother with about as much care as we could display back then. He knew the decay that would follow our race if we stuck to the old beliefs and was willing to hear Squishy out… after he proved himself.

Squishy: Grueling, but so worth it, seeing how I got myself a real cool technician, and the loveliest lady in the whole galaxy out of it.

Sylvia. Oh, really.

Cope: Lucky for you then you didn't wind up raptor chow.

Squishy: Speaking of chow, though, after Christmas is done, we're going to Tatooine to spend the remainder of the holiday week with my folks before coming back in time for New Years.

Jo: Ah sure, must be real nice spending your holidays with immediate family members, unlike us regular Jedi who get separated from ours early on and never hear from them again. But really, what good is upholding millennia-old traditions in a just and sacred order?

Anna: So how are you spending your free time, Mr. Gripey-Pants?

Jo: (Shrugs) Bum around my place: eating, sleeping, the occasional drinking. May get up to get groceries maybe once or twice, probably stop by whatever party may be happening while I'm doing it.

Anna: Real exhilarating.

Jo: Hey, I've put up with enough exhilaration to give twenty hardened troopers cardiac arrest. I think we're all entitled to a few weeks of unexciting downtime every now and then.

Cope: We already do: it's called waiting on the author to write up another trilogy.

Jo: What?

Cope: I said what?

Sara: I can't believe you're looking at this like some regular vacation. It's Christmas, Jo! It's all about the spirit of giving, spending time with loved ones, having fun and not having to hear Princess Leia sing.

Jo: I wouldn't mind hearing Bea Arthur, though. Her and that cantina of hers.

Anna: But they shut it down, remember?

Jo: When will the galaxy learn the benefits of a Bea Arthur melody? It just makes me lament how far this holiday has fallen, honestly.

Sara: (Gasp) Jo, how can you say that? The spirit is still there: it's in everyone's heart! Everyone dressing up, singing carols, decorating, watching those hokey stop motion Christmas specials. Do you really want to make the creepy postman with the Joker smile cry? Do you?

Anna: Yeah, Jo? DO YOU REALLY?

Squishy: Oh snap, I just remembered. (To Sylvia) Hey, Sylvia, I need to make a quick run downtown. Snack trip to the specialty bakery and all, get something for dinner tonight. Could you go on home and wait for me?

Sylvia: Sure, honey. Don't be too long.

Squishy: I don't plan on it. (Hops up to give her an Eskimo kiss, then hurries off while waving back to them)

Anna: Ooh, shopping! That reminds me: we still gotta do some. (Force Grips Cope) Come along, Alex. (Drags him along)

Cope: Wait No No Nooooooooo NOOOOOOOOOOOO! (Dragged along while still moaning dramatically, leaving the remaining three to just stand and watch with bemused looks)

Jo: Welp, I'm gonna go grab something to eat. All those candy canes gave me an appetite. (Waves to the other two as he departs) You two enjoy yourselves.

Sara: We'll enjoy it extra hard for your sake!

Will: Later, Jo.

(They wave and finally separate among the city crowd. Some time later, Squishy scurries and squeezes his way through the crowd that filled up most of the shopping district. Banners and gold filigree and gleaming decorations took up most of the air space, shaking from the clamor of the hundreds of citizens milling about for their errands or group activities. Eventually Squishy makes it to the map display, and looks over the various stores listed)

Squishy: Okay, surprise gift surprise gift surprise gift. Lemme see… So many choices, and no doubt they'll all be packed. Guess I could just wander around until I see something. Ohhhhhh, but what would make a good gift? Something meaningful, not lavish or expensive. Although, wouldn't just me being with her be gift enough? No don't go with that you sissy! What have you ever given her to prove your worth as a loving husband? Well, substantial wealth, comfortable living, inclusion amongst my closest friends, three wonderful kids, having saved her life several times, always giving her attention in the bedroom - NO! Don't think like that! The truly selfless husband should always find ways of showing their appreciation for the one they love most! And this year, it's gonna be done with an old-fashioned surprise Christmas gift.

(He looks out to mall and takes a breath)

Squishy: Well, better get started. (Draws broadsword) To glory!

(Runs into the masses of the inner mall, where a clamorous medieval battle is underway between the most tried and vicious shoppers this side of the core planets)

---

Say, since it's the holidays, how bout we take a break from form and see how the other Jedi are spending their well-earned vacations? We've seen Squishy in plenty of absurd fights before, so let's switch over to the galaxy's cutest heroic couple.

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(In an apartment highrise in a rather nice part of the city, Will is hanging up ornaments on the reef close to the fireplace/widescreen TV, while Sara stands to the side giving directions)

Will: You know we just got done decorating parts of the city, right?

Sara: Well last I checked that didn't include the inside of our home. Also, you wouldn't be doing this if you had listened to me and put them up early.

Will: Oh yeah, early, by which you mean a month and a half in advance. I'd reckon that'd put things a little out of season, wouldn't you say?

Sara: It'd save us the trouble, plus most everyone does it anyway.

Will: Ugh, it's just that Christmas keeps happening earlier and earlier each year. People too busy to settle for just an entire month to do all the decorating, almost kinda sad where their priorities have gone in this day and age.

Sara: Hmm hmm, you're grumbling like an old man, Will.

Will: I'm not getting any younger.

Sara: You know, we could just leave the decorations up for the whole year. Give this place a nice festive air all the time, put some jolly into our lives each day we come home. And it'd save you from having to put them up at the last second.

Will: Nah. (Puts down decorations box and goes to Sara) Don't need no decorations to keep me jolly, when I got my own Mrs. Claus to keep me festive. (Takes Sara's waist firmly with an arm, bringing her close with a daring smile)

Sara: Oh Will, isn't it a bit early to be giving gifts?

Will: You forget: vacation time, we break from the routine.

Sara: Oh yeah. (Softly pushes herself away) Well, seeing how you've done a good enough job with making up the house, I guess I could… give you an early present. (She leans to kiss him lightly on the lips, winks at him then turns for the bedroom with a sultry swagger. Will gets all giddy, but before he can dash after his wife) And don't forget to bring your stocking.

(Will hunches with disappointment, but immediately shrugs it off and follows, but not before thinking,)

Will: (Thoughts) I wonder if Alex and Anna are having just as good a time.

---

Meanwhile, in a distant shopping district…

---

(We see Anna and Cope going down the aisles of a department store, Anna looking at various clothes on display and jotting down on a sheet of paper with a pen, while Cope is being pulled around unwillingly by Anna's Force Grip)

Anna: (Taking notes) Mmhm. Uh huh. Nice, nice, looks nice. OOOH! Definitely nice there. (To Cope) You better be remembering these items when you come later for the shopping, Alex.

Cope: W-which items in particular?

Anna: Oh ho ho ho ho, like that's something you can honestly ask. (Continues making her list) Yes, a most productive shopping season this year, I just know it!

Cope: But aren't you going overboard just a little?

Anna: Nonsense! We both make the same amount, so if I can afford all this then you sure as heck can, too.

Cope: But then there won't be any left for me!

Anna: Nuh-uh-uh, Alex. We talked about this: we're a team, and you know about there being no "I"? Now step lively: we're nearly halfway done. (Force Drags him around on her pre-shopping spree, to his growing despair)

Cope: (Thoughts) Jo's probably having a better time of this holiday, the lucky single bastard.

Anna: Oh? Am I detecting regrettable thoughts coming from you?

Cope: N-No, honey! Just working out the best time to come down for the actual shopping.

Anna: Good boy! I love a man who takes initiative. Now, tally-ho! (And back into the cataloging they go)

---

Meanwhile, at the local Burger King…

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(Inside a relatively busy Burger King, Jo is at the counter picking up his order while merry-makers and other supporters of the King stand and chat about. He takes his to-go bag and turns around to leave, but gets stopped by two rather skinny but quite attractive ladies with thick, though not unappealing accents)

Lady1: Excuse me, but friend and I most curious. Are you go by name Jo?

Jo: Uhh, yeah, I'm Jo.

Lady2: See what I tell you! Hair like that, no mistake: it's big-time bounty hunter!

Lady1: Oh please excuse her, she very excited, insisting she recognize you. But now I see it true: you are big bounty hunter, Suave Crusader.

Jo: Oh, heheh, you heard that one, huh?

Lady1: Oh, da! Me and my friend are models from Almania, we go many places. We hear stories, of dashing rogue and good looks. You fit bill greatly from news vids.

Lady2: Much better before eyes in person than to ears on screen, da.

Jo: Well shucks.

Lady1: Is true. You make incredible adventure and fight many bad foe with the swagger and pistol, and tempt the women with the, uh, how you say? Ah right, with Booty Crank. Most impressive that one.

Lady2: Maybe you show?

Jo: Well hey now, ladies, let's not get ahead of ourselves. I'd be happy to show, but we're in a public place. Buuut, if you're willing to accompany me back to my apartment, I might be able to… properly demonstrate.

Lady1: Da, hint of play make me bothered with hot. Such expert.

Lady2: Real man for ladies, da.

(Before they have a chance to leave, a black man with a black beany and black trench coat stomps into the place and fires off a shotgun at the ceiling before aiming it around, giving rise to many shocked cries)

Robber: Alright, honkies, this here's a robbery! You know the drill: stay low, no heroics and hand over the goods. If I so much as see one of you blink I will f***ing end your cracker a** where you stand!

Lady1: Oh no, I'm much frightened!

Lady2: Violence no good, da!

(Jo, however, remained cool during the announcement, and just looks at the assailant in a calm, unfazed manner)

Jo: I'll handle this, ladies. (Struts calmly up to the robber, still holding onto his meal bag)

Robber: Hey! You deaf or something? If so, then I'd be more than happy to clear those ears with a blast through your f***in' head!

Jo: How's it going, Sam?

Robber: What? Who do you think you're—wait, hold on… Jo? Like, Joseph Jo?

Jo: The one and the same.

Robber: Well holy s***, man, it's been years! (Hugs Jo heartily with one arm and a big smile) Aw man of all the places to find you. How you doing? Is everyone else alright?

Jo: Yeah everyone's good, Sam. I'm just here relaxing on my holiday, grabbing something to eat, nothing fancy. (Holds up bag to emphasize) How bout yourself?

Samuel Jackson: Well s***, thing's been going good, you know how it is. It occurred to me that I hadn't done a cameo in a while, so I thought I'd relive my break out role in film. Didn't think I'd be hitting up someplace you'd be in.

Jo: At least it ain't Eddie Murphy.

Samuel Jackson: H*** yeah to that. Still, it was a lot of fun doing it way back when, being all threatening and tough-guy and s***. Just for fun now though, of course, not like I need the money or anything. That movie I made about us after I got back has me set for f***in' life, and I owe it all to you guys.

Jo: Good to know you're still out and about being bad-a** as always.

Samuel Jackson: But of course: I'm Samuel L. F***ing Jackson. Always and forever, baby.

Jo: Good deal.

Server: Ding fries are done, Ding fries are done, Ding fries are done, Ding Fries are done

I work at Burger King, making flame-broiled Whoppers,

I wear paper—

(Server gets head blown off by Samuel Jackson)

Samuel Jackson: I believe I've taken up enough of yours and everyone else's fine time. You take care of yourself, and say hi to the others for me when you get the chance.

Jo: Will do. (Waves as Samuel Jackson leaves) Wait, movie?

(The two models come up to him as everyone else timidly resumes what they were doing)

Lady1: Ohh, most impressive. Not only tough bounty hunter, but also friends with violent man Samuel Jackson? Most amazing you are.

Jo: Well, what can I say: it comes with the territory. (Holds up his bag) Now, if you both will kindly accompany me to my abode, I believe I mentioned a demonstration. (Wink wink)

Lady2: Oh da, da. (The three of them leave without further fuss, with no one paying mind to the dead server slumped over the counter)

---

Meanwhile, at an abode that is NOT Jo's, nor will be for the sake of everyone's virtue…

---

(In the kitchen of a spacious apartment, Sylvia's happily chopping up some potatoes while humming a merry tune which, unsurprisingly, is quite seasonal. Suddenly there's a ring from the space phone [which is really a holo-phone :P], and stopping her cooking ministrations she reaches over and presses a pad set in the counter. A holoscreen pops up, showing what appears to be the backstage of some concert hall, though taking up most of the screen is a cheery-looking, slender Ssi-Ruuk in a skimpy Santa outfit)

Sally: Hey, Mom!

Sylvia: Why hey there, Sal! This is a pleasant surprise; aren't you still out performing?

Sally: Yeah, I'm actually in the middle of a benefit concert, but I've got a few minutes so I figured I'd call in and say that I'll be there on Coruscant a few days before Christmas.

Sylvia: That's great! Your father will be so glad to hear that.

Sally: Yeah. Say, where is Dad?

Sylvia: Out doing some shopping for dinner tonight, probably for desserts. You know how he can be about those.

Sally: Is he making you cook? He should be the one doing all the work: it's the holidays!

Sylvia: He was going to, but I thought I'd help start things for when he gets home.

Sally: Oh, okay. Heard anything from Stan or Rick?

Sylvia: Still nothing from Rick, nor Stan.

Sally: What!? Stan hasn't gotten back to you? It's like, a week and a half until Christmas!

Sylvia: Yes yes, but he probably wants to spend it with Sentina. You know how much they adore each other.

Sally: Sure, but he's with her all the time, and who says she can't come over? She's family, too. And it's been so long since he's been around any of us.

Sylvia: I know. We miss all of you, but it's your own lives and priorities now. But I suppose I could call him again and see if he'll have an answer.

Sally: No, you know what? I'll talk to him. If his own mother can't get an answer, then I guess dear ol' sis will have to get it out of him.

Sylvia: Are you sure, with your concert and everything?

Sally: It's no sweat. I have my own information network and stuff who can do it for me while I'm busy. Just one of several advantages to being an idol.

Sylvia: Oh, alright then. Just don't be rough in trying to persuade him

Sally: Hee, I'm sure it won't have to come to that. (Looks back at something before looking to her mother again) Oh, gotta get back on stage! Say hi to Dad and I'll see you in about a week, love ya lots!

Sylvia: Love you too, sweetie.

(The holoscreen cuts off and disappears. Sylvia sighs contentedly as she resumes potato chopping)

Sylvia: At least it's nice that one of them is coming. Just hope Rick is enjoying himself, wherever he is.

---

Well that's enough character minutiae. Let's get back to the silliness already in progress!

---

(Back in the Mall of Madness!, Squishy manages to slide into an empty part of the complex. He's wearing the tattered garb of a Highlander, and in his grasp he holds a bloodied broadsword and a red-headed wench atop his left shoulder. He speaks to her in a very bad Scottish accent)

Squishy: Aye, I thinkin' we be in the clear at lost. Real rough tumble thar, but now we be safe, eyh, so you keen be on yer way.

Wench: Oh, milord, do take me with you. I surely would have died at the Sweater Stampede had you not come to carry me away!

Squishy: Tis nothing but Jed-aye kindness, but nay, me heart already belongs to eh'nother. (Lets her down) Now away with ye, lass, and be more careful dese holiday tidins.

Wench: I will, milord. Thank you. (She runs off after a quick bow)

(Alone once more, Squishy grabs his clothes and rips them off, revealing his normal Jawa fare. Tossing the sword aside, he wipes his forehead and takes a breath, also having ditched his awful accent)

Squishy: Well, that got me nowhere. Guess I should just pick a place and shop already.

(Luckily, right in front of him, there's an open shop door)

Squishy: Okay, guess that'll do.

(He walks over to and goes inside the store. Within is a wide, highly spacious sales floor, covered mostly in glass cases sporting a wide range of jewelry. There's no one inside, save for the well-dressed pudgy man with a fancy mustache that was approaching him)

Gentleman: Good day to you, sir. I am the owner and head connoisseur of this shop, and I welcome you.

Squishy: A good day to yourself. Have to say, I'm rather surprised no one's in here with it being the holidays and all.

Owner: Oh, that's because I had the flamethrowers put up to dissuade any rabble-rousers.

(Squishy looks back and double-takes at noticing the two lit flamethrowers jutting from the sides of the door halfway up)

Owner: It seems you were short enough to pass the sensors. I'll have to fix that after closing, but please, do look around at my humble wares.

(Squishy gives him a wary look before hesitantly walking up to the display cases. He eased up, though, as he gazes at the twinkling, glimmering items on display, all the while the store owner hovered nearby)

Owner: Looking for that one special gift, I presume. For a sweetheart or dearly beloved?

Squishy: Yeah, for my wife. Something special for her.

Owner: Well then, my little friend, you won't find yourself wanting for selection here. We have the finest array of jewelry this side of the planet. Every precious gem you can imagine, from all around the galaxy, we have in stock. The finest cuts of emerald and ruby and sapphire and everything in-between, all of them traded from reliable sources and the occasional out-of-touch indigenous tribe, and not always by force. We have even acquired a number of gems from the Hapes Cluster. A rather tricky bit of business there, but all done professionally. And if diamonds are what you're looking for, then you can take comfort in knowing that we do not sell or handle blood diamonds of any kind. The ones you see here were mined and shipped by company-owned slave laborers.

Squishy: That does sound like a lot, but ohhh, I just don't know. It just may be too many choices, to be honest. Maybe if I was more experienced in jewelry it wouldn't be so bad, but I just don't know what could…

(Squishy pauses as his eye catches something: amid a line of glass-encased items there stood out a neck bust holding a gold necklace. A rather fancy though simplistic… shimmery… Uh, not sure what they're called. They're all interwoven like cloth so they're all wavy. I think the Egyptians wore them? Anyway, this kind of necklace drew Squishy's attention, as he went up to it with widened eyes)

Squishy: Except maybe this…

Owner: Ah, you have quite the eye, good sir. Nothing can really beat the gold standard, which was precisely the case for the artisan who crafted that piece. In fact, he made most of our gold-based stock before succumbing to an unfortunate smelting accident, may he rest in decadent peace. As you can see, it doesn't require stylish jewels to be fetching. "Simple, but elegant" was the maker's motto. And as the narrator had clumsily pointed out, the segments are connected in a way that it moves and feels like silk. A delight to both the observer, and the wearer.

(Hey, I don't appreciate that comment. It's hard maintaining things the way they are. I'd like to see you do a better job!)

Owner: I'd be delighted to try. At least then I could describe things far more eloquently and with a pretext of knowing exactly what it was that I was talking about. The reader would undoubtedly appreciate that.

(Grrrr!)

Owner: So would the necklace be to your liking, sir?

Squishy: Yeah, it would. Simple, not too fancy, but fancy. Uh, if you get what I'm saying.

Owner: I believe I can say I do.

Squishy: But something like this, must be incredibly expensive.

Owner: Obscenely so, but for you, Mr. Squishy, I can make an exception.

Squishy: (Surprised) You know me?

Owner: Who doesn't, if you don't mind me asking? You and your Jedi associates are galactic heroes, even more so here on Coruscant. You'd be hard-pressed to find someone on the walkway who hasn't seen a picture of you, given the number of times your group saved everybody from total and complete destruction… Save that one time, but we all got better. Also, not many Jawa are as… definitively short, as you are.

Squishy: Oh, right.

Owner: But as I was alluding to, for this most cherished of holiday seasons, you can have that particular necklace at no charge. On the house, as the layman salesperson would say.

Squishy: What, really?

Owner: But of course. As I mentioned, you and your friends have saved this planet many times. Although this store wasn't spared destruction on any of those occasions, you at least prevented it from being worse for everybody else.

Squishy: Oh, is that so? Well uh, sorry for not keeping your establishment safe during those times.

Owner: It's of no concern. As you may have surmised, the company I'm a shareholder of is obscenely wealthy, so several reconstructions are really no trouble. Besides, it also gave me the opportunity to rehire new staff each time, while sending off the hanger-ons from the previous stores' opening. I have to say, the act of sending someone out into a life of destitute gives me quite the rush. So consider this humble necklace as a gift of gratitude, for both keeping this planet safe and helping me discover a new thrill this late in life.

Squishy: Uhhhhh, sure… Thanks aplenty?

Owner: My pleasure. Now I believe you would want to have it gift-wrapped for your special someone?

Squishy: Um, yeah, that'd be real nice.

Owner: Excellent. Give me a moment as I go fetch our finest ribbons.

(The owner heads to the back, leaving Squishy feeling a bit uncertain over the basis for this piece of gilded "gratitude". But that passed quickly as the necklace was taken from the case, expertly wrapped in gold-colored paper and handed to him. He leaves the store with present in hand, and soon he makes it out of the shopping mall and onto the crowded walkways outside. He gives way to his own outspoken thoughts as he looks over his prize)

Squishy: Oh man, Sylvia will be so surprised. Hopefully she'll like it; I say it'll look good along with her scales. All shimmery and wavy, just like the ones on her chest. Maybe she could wear it when we go out to places, on vacation, just the two of us, or with some of the others. Just imagining the sun glinting off of it that would match the glint in her eye, how it would gleam like her smile at a candle-lit dinner. Heh, maybe she could wear it during our "special time". Laid bare against her chest, tilted at an angle when she's lying on the bed. The way our movements would make it ripple, the tinkling noise it'll make that'll join the ones we're making, maybe rub it around as I… heh, hehehehehe… oh mama..."

(As his face reddens to lecherous thoughts, he fails to notice the piece of busted walkway in his path and slams his toe into it, forcing him to fall flat onto his face. The fall makes him throw up his arms and send his present flying, and in the moment it takes him to look back up it's a good ten feet away and still airborne)

Squishy: Oh No!

(He scrambles into the pedestrian crowd ahead of him, flailing out his arms in trying to reach out to the wayward box. The present gets bounced, knocked, dribbled, kicked, elbowed, and headbutted all over the place, just barely out of the flustered Jawa's reach. After a silly chase the present eventually flew away from the bustling crowd… only to bounce along the walkway a few yards and land squarely inside a garbage chute on the walkway's edge. Squishy gives a cry before dramatically leaping and diving after the present with a great "ker-plunk". Round and round the garbage tubes he went, hurtling headlong after the gift. Meanwhile, at the exit of the chute, a hover dump truck was parked beside an awaiting dumpster)

Driver: Okay, it's slowed down. Let's make it quick.

(The dump truck extends its lifting hooks and latches onto the dumpster, before raising and tilting it up to receive its contents. As it was doing so, the present came shooting out downward into open air, followed by a yelling Squishy. The unfortunate Jawa winds up colliding with just about every piece of metal and equipment jutting from the wall of the undercity, repeatedly having his head and body bashed by the likes of pipes, girders, cheese graters, cacti, a passing Ryu's Shoryuken, rugby ball, and even by Life House as he was Hanging by a Moment. Eventually he crashes into a small rounded pit that ends the absurd freefall, and after some seconds he recovers enough to sit up in a daze. Shaking his head, he looks to his side and finds the golden present right next to him, mostly unscathed)

Squishy: Oh, thank goodness. But wait, where am I…

(He looks down, and pulling back we see that he's nestled in the launch pad of a Random Medieval Catapult)

Squishy: Who'd throw something like this out!?

(The catch releases and it sends Squishy and the present wailing at high speed out from the underbelly of the city and into the air traffic lines, only for them to get slammed by an air car and go careening off into the distant city skyline)

:INTERMISSION:

Now for an Important Holiday Message

Chris: Hello. I am General Chris: Galactic Republic Hero and Master Advocate for Hemorrhoid Rights, and I have something to ask you. Have you found your local Santa's lap to be uncomfortable, itchy, and perhaps even worn through with holes? And all you volunteer Santa's, are you finding your legs balmy, suffocating, and overall not up to snuff for the rigors of your jolly occupation? Well I have good news for the two demographics I just mentioned. Introducing Jolly Jumpers: top-quality Santa pants. Made from the finest cloth and endangered animals that money can suffocate, they're the ideal trousers to keep your spirits high and the season tidings lasting all day long. Tested on over two hundred sitters of all ages, gender and species, these pants are guaranteed to wow anyone who wears them, and especially those who get a chance to ride them.

Whiny kids? Messy kids? Desperate moms? No problems in the face of Santa's newest secret weapon. Clothing so good even St. Nick would take them for a spin with the missus, so why not you? Grab a pair of Jolly Jumpers this holiday, and make your lap the most festive place to be this year!

(Pull back to reveal jumbo screen that played Chris' commercial, overlooking a somewhat busy plaza. Down at the other end of the area, Cope is looking up at the screen as the commercial ends)

Cope: Godd***it, Chris.

(He looks to the side and sees the other Jedi coming toward him)

Sara: Finished already?

Jo: Did you even look?

Cope: Yes, I did. I'm just quicker and more efficient than you.

Sylvia: Any luck in finding him?

Sara: None of the local bakeries have seen him, or any of the ones further out.

Will: Couldn't find him in any of his favorite arcades.

Anna: Or gaming stores.

Jo: Not even in the fast food joints we usually hang out at.

Cope: No bar or seedy diner had him, so at least he's not wallowing in cliched despair.

Sara: Is he still not answering his communicator, Sylvia?

Sylvia: No, not since I started trying yesterday. It's worrying me that he'd just disappear like that without notice, and especially with his comm off.

Will: I checked in with Duff during our search. Port authorities don't have him listed as having gone off-planet. He'll try having some of his men look around when they can.

Jo: Good idea. I also called up some Almanian supermodels to do the same.

Anna: Wait. (Snaps a look) Since when do you know Almanian supermodels, Jo?

Cope: And what makes you think that's a viable means of helping us find him?

Jo: Gotta cover our angles on this; he might be out with certain other persons that prefer privacy in their profession.

All: JO!

Jo: Just saying it's not completely improbable. Trying to help, is all.

Will: Like Sylvia doesn't need anything else to be worried over.

Cope: I'm betting he just went trash-diving again. Maybe got caught in a dumpster and got taken away. He could just be making his way back home now as we speak.

Sylvia: What if he's kidnapped? We might need to get the police involved.

Anna: What? Those clowns? It's usually us who wind up doing their jobs.

Sylvia: Well we have to do something!

Jo: Okay, I think we all need to settle down here. Gotta cool our heads if we're gonna find Squishy, and I'm really not in the mood for pointless arguments among friends.

Sylvia: But what if he's really kidnapped?

Jo: Given the track record of most of the baddies we've faced, we would've gotten a ransom note by now, or something just as obvious should've happened. Plus, there's the Force thing. Anybody here felt any disturbances?

Cope: Nope.

Will: Nada.

Sylvia: I… guess you're right there. It's just not like him, is all. (Jo comes up to place hand on her shoulder)

Jo: We'll figure this out and find him together, Sylvia. It may be our vacation time, but I'd feel like s*** if I didn't help you out. All of us would.

Sara: Definitely.

Will: For sure.

Anna: Absolutely.

Cope: Well… (Notices the looks he's getting) Yeah I would too, if it meant Sylvia had to suffer otherwise. Whatever disagreements I have with your husband, it doesn't take away from you being a good friend, and well worth helping.

Sylvia: Thank you, Alex.

Cope: And since we're in mushy territory, I'd like to say I find you extremely sensible, which I highly respect. Don't get much opportunity to say things like that, but you help balance out that middling nutball. You also add an interesting spin on things at times.

Sylvia: That's so very sweet of you to say. I appreciate that.

Anna: Yeah, real sweet of you to say, dear.

Cope: Uh, hmmm, right.

Jo: 'K, so now that we've gushed, let's take five and talk about other places to look, or find some way to contact him.

Will: We could just put up a huge banner for free root beer.

Sara: Or video games. Ooh! Why not do both!

Anna: Now we're getting somewhere!

(Their planning is interrupted when the jumbo screen overlooking the plaza gives a loud bonging sound, announcing a Republic Government broadcast. All the Jedi look up at the screen as the perpetually-balding longtimer Governor appeared)

Governor: H-hello, hello? Are we on? Oh, good. Greetings, fine citizens of Coruscant! This is your beloved Governor-for-Life speaking, hoping that you're all enjoying your respective holiday seasons. Be sure to practice safety when out shopping and cavorting with your loved ones, and for any kind of legal or damage concerns you may have, please seek out the nearest government legal aid to save yourself some holiday spending money, as well as avoid any needless lawsuits to spoil the good cheer.

Now then, for the big announcement! As you all know, the grand week of festivities is less than a week away, and we're hoping to make it the biggest one in a decade. So big, in fact, that our pre-selected naming committee has chosen to name this year's final week: Festivale!

(Silence from everywhere)

Gov: Did, did they like it? No response? Oh well, better luck next year. Have the committee shipped off back to the orphanage; they did their best, I guess. Oh, is this still on? Right right right! Anyway, beloved citizens, with this year's festivities shaping up to be especially grand, we're bringing in an expert events coordinator to ensure it goes along spectacularly without any sort of backfiring or overlooking of safety protocols. But I've gone on long enough. Please give a warm Coruscant welcome to this year's head Festivale overseer—and yes, we're sticking with Festivale—: Francis Lather!

(Fake applause plays off the screen as the Governor steps aside and another man takes his place. He's a well-groomed genteel sort, wearing a modest black suit, medium-length blonde hair that trails down behind his neck and a pair of smart-looking glasses. He looks out warmly to the city at large with a soft smile)

Lather: Thank you kindly, Governor. I'm greatly honored to be presented the opportunity to help this grand capital reign in the new year in the most festive way possible. Although the majority of you out there haven't heard of me, I can assure you that I am a steadfast organizer, as well as a most humble person once you get to know me. Hopefully I'll get to know more of you as I help this fine planet's officials in setting up the coming week's activities. If you have any questions or concerns about my involvement or the festivities in general, feel free to visit my office located in the Synistech building in Quarian Square. If you happen to see me on the street, then stop for a friendly chat. You can simply call me Francis, or Frank if you prefer. What's formality in the spirit of the season? So please, enjoy yourselves, and a Merry Christmas to all.

Gov: Wow, I couldn't have put it better myself. If I had you for an image consultant, I probably wouldn't be receiving so many death threats.

Lather: Oh, sir, you give me too much credit.

(Back down in the plaza)

Will: Hey, doesn't that guy look familiar?

Anna: I dunno. One of those faces, I guess.

Will: I mean, doesn't something about him remind you of someone specific?

Jo: Come to mention it, that hairstyle does seem familiar.

Sara: Also something about his smile.

Cope: That's… a special kind of black for a plain suit. Kinda looks befitting if—

Sylvia: There was a scythe to go with it?

(It only takes moments for all the Jedi to catch on and collectively blanche their faces in realization of the inconceivable visage overlooking them, like some grand, fearsome specter from the past)

All: FINANCER!?

---

Talk about a shocker! But what does it mean? Well we're about to find out… later. For now, let's briefly turn back to late last evening...

---

(Somewhere below the walkways and buildings there lay the undercity of Coruscant, with its forgotten mountains of refuse, disuse and dilapidation, and home to those who are unfortunate, forgotten, or tossed from the city above. A group of such vagabonds are traipsing about the dank, relative calmness of this seedy underground. There were seven of them, around the age of children to preteen: a Bothan, a Rodian, an Ithorian, a chubby human, a pair of ginger twin brothers, and one fairly tall lad who carried himself like a leader. As they walk along the broken pathways, they rummage through whatever piles they pass by, sometimes pulling out something of value or nourishment, as scavengers are wont to do.)

Leader: (Cockney accent) Oi, Tubbens ya fat dope, any news with da scavengin?

Tubbens: Ain't none around, just like every other one I dug through.

Leader: That's be cuzzin' you don't dig deep enough with dem pudgy digits, ye bulbous wanker. (Sighs) This outing has been fairly good, but very far from prime.

Bothan: Hey! I got something over here.

Leader: Den bring it over, ya pretensionous fuzzer.

Bothan: It's a little too big to bring over.

(The leader and the others come up to the Bothan, who's standing over a bundle of coarse brown cloth)

Leader: Cheah, this 'ere's plain burllap, ya mitten-armed slouch, you.

(The bundle shifts and turns over, revealing a pair of dazed yellow orbs)

Leader: Well by jove, it's a Jawa. Still light enough to have carried over, ya slouch.

Tubbens: Where'd you think he come from?

Rodian: From up above, stupid!

Twin1: Quite d*** obvious, really.

Twin2: Right so.

Bothan: Seems to have been a rough landing, from the looks of it. Also a bit on the scrawny side for his kind, I'd say.

(The Jawa raises up a hand to rub his aching head. He then looks around and notices the ragamuffins gauging him)

Leader: Enjoy yor lil' nap there, pipsqueak?

Jawa: Uh, wha, who? Where am I?

Leader: This here be paradise, boyo. The foinest gathering of garbage in the galaxy, and the foinest habitation for scrappers and destitutes like meself. It be Coruscant if you are absolutely in the dark about yer geography.

Jawa: Who are you?

Leader: I should be askin' your tiny self, but I'm a gentlemen, so Pipley be my handle, and here are me merry band of gents. (Sweeps arm at the others) The furry one's Scuzz.

Scuzz: Hello.

Pipley: The fat one's Tubbens, obviously. Then there's green ol' Merkle, and them lovely set of twins is Tim1 and Tim2. Pretty much the same, so why bother with differing names, eh?

Tim1: Very true.

Tim2: It's how we are.

Pipley: And finally the 'ammerhead there is Mickey. Introduce yourself, Mickey.

Mickey: Brea ahoidlahl ehaudl ghuelahd ehauhd.

Pipley: Mickey never bothered learnin' Basic, nor do I see how he can. But he's a good hand at the headslaps. Now that you know us, what'n be your name, munchkin?

Jawa: My name? Uhhhhhhhhh, ummmmmmmm… I don't know.

Pipley: Well how's that for a convenient sticky mawicket. We reveal our personal informities and you have squat all to give back. To be had among scoundrels in this day and age, such a bleedin' shame.

Merkle: Dude, like anyone cares about our names. We're living below the streets, for Greedo's sake!

Pipley: Sure sure, but this lack of satisfactory detail leaves me sore. And pray, little one, you don't know how you wound up here, either?

Jawa: ...No, I don't. But I hurt a lot.

Pipley: Well that's more digestible. Most of us shabby misbegottens ended up here in much the same way. Especially Mickey.

Mickey: Urgle burgle lurgel jergleleedurgle.

Pipley: Yeah, he was in so much pain when we found him he went flipped off the handle on us. Had to use Tubbens as a shield until he done calmed hisself, but Tubbens took it admirable like the good lad he is.

Tubbens: I was still bruised something bad for days afterward.

Pipley: Ehh no one wants to hear your postulating gripes, Tubbens. Which abruptly leads to a beneficiary idea, wot wot. I be thinkin' we need another addition to our merry band, one of the smaller persuasion. Being the philanthropist that I is, how would you like to join and partake in our brand of whimsical devilry?

Jawa: Ummmmmm…

Merkle: I think he's still recovering from a concussion, boss.

Pipley: Then we can't very well leave him out in the open for far less compassionate blokes to do a one-over on. So lemme help you up, friend. (Leans down and helps the Jawa to his feet) And if you be tagging along with us, it's only fitting we give you a proper name than "Friend" or "Jawa". And like that, inspiration struck me smarmy head! From henceforth I dub thee: Stubby!

Stubby: Uhm, okay…

Pipley: Roight all good, that's a lad. Let's be on our way so I can show ye the ropes of survivin' this forsaken 'ell hole we call home.

Merkle: Hold up, boss. I just realized something.

Pipley: Eh? And what's that, me dear tube-holed ruffian?

Merkle: Something about this guy seems familiar, like I've seen him somewhere.

Scuzz: Come to think of it, something about him strikes me as familiar too. OH CRAP! I know what it is: isn't this guy Squishy?

Tubbens: S-S-Squishy!? L-Like the Jedi?

Merkle: Yeah, you stuttering fool. We've passed by a few posters and broadcasts showing his mug along with those others. He definitely looks the part.

Tim1: The size fits at least. Most Jawas aren't that small.

Tim2: Not so small they aren't. It's a striking resemblance.

Tim1: Resemblance most striking.

Pipley: Now 'old on what are you on about? You tellin' me a galactic hero like that has just so happened to fallen down to the dregs with the rest of our lot?

Scuzz: Wouldn't be the first one to do so.

Mickey: Humble dee Bum.

Pipley: Heh, well, when I looks at him the right way, he does look uncanny for a regular ol' Jawa. (Starts walking away) But before I let this debate eat away our group focus, let's just test this assertion. (After some distance he bends down and picks up something) Eh Stubby, think fast!

Stubby: Huh? (Gets beaned by a brick and falls over)

Pipley: See? What kind of proper Jedi would fall for a toss as shabby as that?

Tubbens: You did catch him off-guard.

Pipley: Well if he were Squishy he'd know first-hand how unfair the universe is. But I bow to your contestment and prove me doubts a different way. Ey Stubby, use the Force and pick Tubbens up.

Tubbens: W-W-What!?

Pipley: You 'eard me: pick his chubby self and give him a good toss. Maybe on one of those richer's fancy fire escapes.

Tubbens: Now hold on, Pipley!

Stubby: (Getting up) That really hurt, and I don't know how to use the Force, or even what it is.

Pipley: Ah, see: you got nothing to worry about, Tubbens. Me theory is proven, and all's we haves is a midget among sand dwarves. Slow on the reaction time, but he's probably still half-conked. And no doubt that small size could be of use.

Mickey: Rabbledy ZOOK!

Pipley: Mickey's got the right of it. Now let's head back to our quaint ol' burrow and show our new companion around. (He and others start to leave) Step lively, Stubby. We're a right punctual band and it won't do to fall behind of your new pallies.

Stubby: Oh uh, okay! (Runs after the group, back into the depths of Coruscant's underbelly)

---

Well wasn't that something? Anyway, let's get back to the present, already in progress.

---

(Turn to the inside of a government office building, where the Jedi are practically barging their way past anyone in their path as they head for the main office. Eventually they reach the double doors and push them open with a bang, catching the attention of the governor as he stood behind his desk)

Gov: Ah, what a pleasant surprise. For a second I thought one of those unemployed single mothers had finally broken in.

(The Jedi step quickly up to his desk)

Anna: What the h*** is wrong with you, Governor!?

Sara: What were you thinking!

Gov: Oh alright, I admit. Cutting their financial aid programs may have been a bit extreme, but they nor their children would go anywhere if they just slouched around on government funding. Sink or swim and that kind of thing.

Cope: That's not what we're talking about, you dolt. What possessed you to hire the freakin' Financer to oversee next week's parade?

Will: Or anything for that matter!

Gov: I'm sorry, I don't quite follow. Are you talking about Mr. Lather?

Jo: Lather? Dude, that's not even his name!

Will: Don't tell me you've forgotten.

Gov: I reiterate: I don't follow.

Sylvia: That "overseer" had almost destroyed the galaxy at one point!

Gov: And so have a lot of other things. You'd need to be more specific, dear.

Cope: He's the "Great Devastator" for God's sake!

Jo: Destroyer of a hundred planets ring a bell?

Sara: Guy who took joy in tormenting people's families before killing them.

Sylvia: Mine especially!

Will: You can't seriously tell us you've forgotten the one guy who's killed everybody in this galaxy at least once.

Gov: (A pause, then) Ohhhhhhhh… Well thank you for making me remember the most terrifying and helpless moment of my life. Much appreciated.

Jo: Then why did you make him head coordinator for Festivale? Oh man, that really is a stupid name.

Gov: Hold on, are you insinuating that dear Mr. Lather is the Financer? What makes you say that?

Cope: Oh for crying out loud, he's got the same glasses and hairstyle!

Sylvia: Not to mention his clothes are practically the same.

Gov: Well it's a very respectable look. Just because one mass-murderer happened to share it doesn't mean nobody could use it ever again.

Anna: Why the heck are you denying what's right in front of your face? Why are you buying that a**hole's bupkis?

Gov: Well, Anna, as I recall amid my memory of fear and soiled pants, the Financer was loud, menacing and godlike, which our fair coordinator is neither of which. I also noticed the distinct lack of my planet being hurled into the center of the galaxy by his whim.

Will: He's covering it up to trick you, duh!

Sylvia: You have to listen to us, before more tragedy occurs! Please!

Gov: The only tragedy I'm concerned with is the one that will come about if this holiday celebration doesn't make people forget how crummy a term I'm running. Unless you have substantial proof that the Financer is indeed back and is none other than the one who is helping me with one of this city's most problematic tasks, then I say you're all being a bunch of grouches. Or should I say Grinches. Ha ha ha, how clever.

Jo: You're making a big mistake not listening to us.

Gov: I assure you, Jedi, he checks out. No black spots or shady dealings or anything like that, and he's such a gentlemen as well. No fast ones pulled this year, mark my words.

Sylvia: But Governor—

Gov: I swear on my honor as governor of this fine planet, Sylvia, that Mr. Lather is a most trustworthy and strapping individual. (A mobster approaches him)

Mobster: Here's your annual Christmas bribe, and the boss wants you to have this complimentary bottle of his special contraband eggnog.

Gov: Thank you, Louie. And tell Lily she should try adding some Kessel Rum and twelve parsnips for that extra kick. (Mobster nods and leaves) Now then, Jedi, I ask that you leave me. Unlike most of the year, I'm actually busy doing government work and stuff. No time for needless chat and all. Toodlepip!

(Seeing they were getting nowhere with the governor, the Jedi begrudgingly take their leave. Outside of the building, they resume talking)

Anna: Of all the cliched tropes, it just had to be "doesn't recognize the poorly-disguised villain". F*** all the ducks.

Sara: So what will we do now?

Jo: We have to find out what Financer's up to. Seems he's going for the low-key approach, whatever it is he's planning exactly.

Cope: Bound to be something incredibly heinous if he's foregoing straight-up galactic calamity.

Sylvia: Just what we need with Squishy missing as well. Oh, what if that's what happened: Financer kidnapping him!

Jo: D***, that would be pretty serious. Looks like we're gonna have to split up for this one. Me, Will and Alex will do some back-checking on "Lather" and see what his angle is, while the rest of you keep looking for Squishy.

Sara: Um, not to be a stickler, but don't those assignments seem a little gender specific?

Anna: Are you implying us ladies aren't good enough for background investigations, huh, huh?

Jo: Okay, fine, let's mix it up. You can join me and Alex for the investigations, and Will can go with Sara and Sylvia in looking for Squishy.

Sara: Yay!

Jo: Keep in contact at all times, and call in if you find anything important. I want frequent updates on this. And maybe tell Duff or anyone else about the Financer situation, Will. Gotta start opening peoples' eyes, here.

Will: Gotcha.

Anna: If it comes to some needed roughing-up, I'm up for it.

Jo: We have to move fast and dig up something quick. Maybe we can completely avoid a catastrophe this time around.

Sara: Come on, Sylvia. Let's go find Squish!

Sylvia: Yes!

(The group move out on their own separate assignments)

---

Meanwhile, some time after these events…

---

(The group of underage bums are merrily walking beneath the maintenance catwalks of the undercity, with Stubby munching away at some tiny candy canes)

Pipley: I take it me 'umble offerings of candy canes as well as our accommodations were to your preferment, Stubby?

Stubby: Very much so! (Keeps stuffing face)

Pipley: Good, cuz it's time to earn your keep.

Stubby: Hmm?

Pipley: Y'see, there's no such thing as charity down 'ere where the wretches dwell. You gotta take what you can in order to survive. It's rough goings, and you're liable to get killed before your first week. Course, things git much smoother if you find yourself in a well-off band. But if ye be wanting to join my lovely crew, you gotta pull your weight and fulfill a certain role. Lucky for you I already have a slot in mind, but before gettin' to that, we need to catch ya up to speed with what it takes to be a survivor of the underbelly. And what better way than with me own patented crash course in urchinly conduct. Gents, it's time for a quick holiday up top.

Merkle: Heheh, this'll be good.

(Transition a plaza up top, where Pipley and Stubby are looking out at a large Christmas tree from behind a building corner)

Pipley: Now the only thing worth as much as a rogue's hands is 'eir feet. Quick and nimble is key if ya want to keep what ya take. Right now the twins are puttin' up a show for all the tosspots to be keepin' their eyes where we don't be wantin' them.

(Turn to the ginger twins doing random acrobatics and synchronized moves to a small crowd, then back to Pipley)

Pipley: Right, so we simplys got to snatch and grab them various baubles and trinkets 'angin' from the tree there. Could fetch a good deal with the right bad people, as well as spruce up our quaint hole of filth. Now, the idea is quick in, quick out, like a race. Just focus on the ones you can manage. Gold is tops if you're indecisive. Right then, on my mark… Break!

(He, along with Scuzz, Merkle, Stubby and Mickey rush out from their hiding spot and make for the tree. Pipley snags a gold bauble in passing, Scuzz swipes up two shiny ornaments, Merkle pulls down a string of glimmering beads, and Stubby tries to grab something low hanging but trips and falls onto his face. A patrolmen comes over to him, however Mickey rushes by and leaps up to smack him in the face with his own, toppling the copper and allowing Stubby to pick up a few things before dashing off. As the nearby crowd watch this affront, the twins cartwheel their way to escape. Transition to an array of wreaths that some of the lads are messing with, as Pipley continues his training)

Pipley: The prime criminal mind has also got to have a sparks of creativity about them. Make an artform of the misdeeds they do, leave their mark on the world and all that jolly wont. And your mark begins 'ere with these fancy green wreaths. Scuzz has got lookout, so we're feel to express our inner villainy. Observe ye impressionable spotters.

(Takes up and twists around a wreath, and after a few seconds he steps back to reveal the wreath having been rearranged to spell out "Tosser")

Pipley: Now your turn to work the vandal's canvas.

(Stubby looks a bit hesitant, but after some shifting he carefully desecrates a wreath, showing Pipley the festive "Poop" he spelled out in evergreen)

Pipley: Hmmm. A tad crude, but you got the right idea. Good one on ya, chap.

(Stubby beams at the compliment. Next we turn to an overlook, where Pipley and crew peek over a walkway siding)

Pipley: As well as having an artist's spirit, Stubby, ya also gotta have the kind of aggression to startle a Wookie. But seeing how's you and most of me rabble are but tiny knockers, we must be subtle in our aggravations toward society. Take for exhibition yonder carollers cajolin' other thar.

(Show across a wide gap another walkway, with some happy carollers singing out their beloved yuletide diddies)

Pipley: They look festive enough in their reds and greens, but I think it could be upped with a touch of yellow. (He holds up an egg) Center of mass, stiff arm, show no mercy. REIGN IN 'ELL, BOYS!

(The lads begin throwing a flurry of eggs across the airspace, which strikes home and makes the carollers stop their revelry as they're pelted with yolk. Even as they try to defend themselves or flee the gang continue their assault with glee, Stubby having a chuckle as he joins in. One of the eggs even manages to land and crack inside one poor sod's mouth, who immediately gets tackled by a fat Chinese man who fiercely tries slurping the cracked egg out of his orifice. Mickey holds up an egg, contemplates, and pulls back to smack it with his broad face, only for it to smash and splatter. He shouts off a string of foreign obscenities as the gang share an even greater laugh. Next,)

Pipley: And of course, no matter how bad it fares, always get behind ye mates.

(Show a trio of coppers with wooden switches whipping relentless against the exposed belly of Tubbens, all while shouting "Halt" repeatedly)

Pipley: Keep it up, Tubbens! We're almost done with the graffitiing.

Tubbens: I'm gonna wind up bruised from all of this!

Pipley: It won't kill ya, so quit bellyachin' and take 'em bellyaches.

(Turn to sometime later where the gang are all grouped around, with Tubbens rubbing his absurdly red stomach)

Pipley: And that, me precious Stubby, is what it takes to make it in the lowlife that we inhabit. It's with these skills and the right mindset that you can become a proper… a proper… D***, what's that fancy word for child vagrant?

Scuzz: Gamin?

Pipley: Geshundtight. But training's over and done, now it's on to the practice and perfection side of it. And I just got the job with your name on it. Now lads, off with ye. (Slaps Tubbens in the belly)

Tubbens: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!

(Switch to a small alley sometime later. Pipley, Stubby, the twins and Merkle are close to a shop's backdoor. The twins are standing atop each other's shoulders to act as a ladder for Merkle, who is working out a lock on a grate while Stubby and Pipley wait)

Pipley: Okays, Stubby, your first real test is to help us crack this 'ere sweets shop. A lotta delights to fill our lil' mouths, but the shopkeep ain't too high on generosity, so we'll be generous to ourselves. But we're gonna need you to make our humble dream come true. As you can see, Merkle is dealing with the added protection the shop keep had placed up on yon vent, but that'll mean plonk to 'im. Y'see, Merkle was by taught his parents, two of the most cunnin' lock pickers in the galaxy.

Merkle: Yeah, till they finally got busted and I wound up tossed to the curb.

Pipley: A terrible shame, it really is. But now he's here with us, fit and carryin' on the family legacy. Puts some warmth in this grubby ol' heart o' mine.

(There's a clatter as a lock hits the alley floor, followed by Merkle landing on it)

Merkle: Kay, the grate's open.

Pipley: Smashing work there as always. Now, Stubby, on to the next phase. (After some seconds, both him and Stubby are atop the twins, looking into the now-open vent) This 'ere portal leads straight into the shop, but it's too narrow for any of us to get through. That is, until you're wonderful stunted self dropped from above like an early Christmas present. Now listen carefully: the shopkeep has locked up and sodded off for lunch, leaving the 'ole place deserted. Scuzz and Tubbens will watch the front while you crawl in there, drop down and open the backdoor. The quicker you do this, the quicker we can take our fill and be gone before the bloke comes back. You understand?

Stubby: Y-yeah, I do!

Pipley: I believe in you. Now get your sorry bottom in there before I kick ye in.

(Boosts up Stubby who then crawls his way into the vent. Some shuffling and banging around later the Jawa breaks through a panel and falls hard onto the sales floor of the sweets shop. After rubbing away the soreness in his face, his eyes light up at the veritable mountains of delight surrounding him, but remembering his mission he scurried to the back door. A quick unlatching and the hooligans rush right in, and shortly after the front door's unlocked so the stragglers can slip right in)

Pipley: Well done, Stubby, well done; I knew ya could pull it off! (Gives Stubby congratulatory body shaking) Right then, me scourlings of the streets, grab as much as ye can carry, but don't go overburdenin' yeselves. Gotta split like rotten peas, so snap at it then.

(The gang get to work pulling down as much candies as possible. Tubbens especially was tearing away at the various chocolate stands and displays. After stuffing some chocolate animals down his shirt, he stumbles around trying to manage his delicious load, until finally losing his balance and falling over against something hard. Pushing himself back onto his feet, he looks up in dismay as the thing he bumped into turns out to be some middle-aged mustachioed man in an orange skin suit with a police light atop his head, which had lit up and was spinning as he brought up a paper megaphone to his face and started making a very annoying "ANH! ANH! ANH!" noise into it)

Scuzz: What the h***?

Merkle: D***it! Tubbens tripped the alarm!

Mickey: Flumble mumble jumble dumble!

Pipley: Tubbens you bumbling dirigi-boy, you cut our treasure divin' short!

Tubbens: I'm s-s-s-sorry! He came out of nowhere!

Pipley: Okay, me laddies, focus is now on cuttin' out. Get a good hold of ye goods and shuffle on out the back.

(They make a run for the back exit and out into the alleyway with their stolen candies cradled in their arms and clothes. They make it about twenty meters before skidding to a halt at something that was blocking their way. At nearly six and a half feet tall, the being would otherwise be viewed as a jolly old man, with old time work clothes and a striped colorful apron befitting a tailor or a grocer. However, his head was covered in a fearsome black mask that regulated his breathing, adding extra menace with each breath he took. The street rats stared in awe at the owner of the candy shop they had just fled from: Darth Shopkeep himself!)

Shopkeep: (Vader voice) Ah, little ones. We meet at last. I was expecting your brand of mischief to befall my candy store.

Pipley: Heh, guess you don't sod for long, grampy.

Shopkeep: I had long anticipated this encounter. Once you held sway over me with your vandalism and quickness, rendering me as helpless as a schoolboy. Now, I am the schoolmaster.

Pipley: Only the master of buggering off, Shopkeep!

Shopkeep: There will be no escape this time. I've caught you red-handed, and justice shall follow swiftly.

Pipley: Yeah? Just by your wrinkly wheezin' self?

Shopkeep: Yes: your days of rampant truancy shall end by my hand… as well as by the hands of these part-time security agents.

(From the shadows appeared a dozen black-clad, heavily armored security guards, carrying some nasty-looking batons as they lined up side by side behind their leader)

Shopkeep: What say you now, street urchin?

Pipley: Hmmmmmm, really only one thing to say. Chaps… TURN AND FLEE!

(The group about-faces and sprint back the way they came, as the security detail broke formation and gave chase. They run headlong down the alleyway, only for the guards to steadily get closer with their long adult legs. At some point, Scuzz looks around and spots something nudged away somewhere overhead. Stopping briefly, he takes a jawbreaker from his bounty and flings it upward, where it smacks into a metal latch, causing it to release and dump out an avalanche of trash. The garbage crashes down and traps two of the guards, as well as making a bulky obstacle for the rest to clamber over. Scuzz rejoins the running group)

Pipley: Good 'un, Scuzzy boy, but we's gonna have to shake this lot. (They reach an intersection of alleyways) Right Mickey, you stay here and smack 'em around best ye can. Hop for the abode if it gets too heady to handle.

Mickey: Flim diffany!

Pipley: Swell lad!

(The group make a sharp right down a side alley except for Mickey, who stands his ground with his arms laden with candy. Two guards rush up to him with batons raised, but he uses this flat face to start slapping at their legs and torsos, pushing them back and making them bend to expose their helmeted heads, which also get belted by the agitated Ithorian. Back to the group, they make good headway till two guards pop out from the side up ahead, ready to intercept)

Pipley: Rack 'em up rack 'em up!

(The twins break for the head of the group and further on, charging at the impeding guards. One of them lines up behind the other and springs forward, landing atop his brother's shoulders and launching himself far forward over the head of the leading guard. He hits the ground and kneels down just as his twin reaches the guard and leaps up to bring a shin to his chest plate. The guard stumbles back and hits the kneeling twin, forcing him to tumble backward and becoming a stepping stone for the other twin to jump forward and deliver a devastating kick to the head of the remaining guard. The way clear, the group trample over the fallen guards and keep on running. They turn a corner and find themselves on a straightaway that leads to a downward slope, but after some yards they spot the remaining guards grouped up at the other end)

Merkle: That doesn't look good!

Pipley: Tubbens! Execute Defensive Protocol Omega!

Tubbens: R-Right!

(Using every ounce of his miniscule stamina, Tubbens makes his way past his fellows and gets a start on the beginning of the slope. However, he immediately flings himself forward off his feet and onto his side, entering a fast roll that got even faster with each passing second. The guards didn't have time to properly react as the tumbling tubster bowls right through their legs, scattering them all over the place. In the confusion the rest of the kids run through, with Scuzz helping up a dizzied Tubbens)

Pipley: Nice work, Tubbens. That just bout cleared their soddin' lot.

(They put on an extra burst of speed, heading homeward. Stubby, however, finds himself straggling behind a bit, and as they pass under some fire escapes, Darth Shopkeep drops down and lands in the way of the Jawa, cutting him off from the others)

Shopkeep: I have you now, young shoplifter!

Pipley: Stubby! Hit him in the knackers!

(Stubby looks briefly confused, but going for broke, he closed his eyes and rammed his head full-force into the candy man's exposed crotch. Immediately the shopkeep's arms drop down to cover his damaged goods, all the while collapsing into a fetal position and letting off pained groans and harsh coughs)

Stubby: Whoaaaa, shopkeeps have knackers.

(Getting over his amazement, Stubby went around the crumpled and sobbing shopkeep as he rejoined his band of merry troublemakers, all of them carrying plenty of sugary spoils to show for their little run)

---

Meanwhile, sometime during these silly events…

---

(In the public plaza from a few days ago, holiday shoppers and strollers mill about their bustling day, an air of excitement for the week of celebrations nearly upon them. In a somewhat quiet corner of the area, Will, Sara, and Sylvia walk up to the remaining Jedi, who have been standing around for their arrival)

Jo: Still nothing on the Squishy end?

Sara: (Huffs) No. And we tried the free root beer and video games idea, but all that did was incite catastrophic riots in one of the shopping sectors.

Anna: Yeah, we heard about that. Good thing you didn't put down any of our addresses for the meet-up.

Sara: But I just feel so bad for all those Gamestops and A&Ws.

Will: Eh, they'll bounce back. (Dunno bout the A&Ws :P)

Sylvia: Hopefully you guys had better luck on Mr. Lather.

Cope: Oh, we found plenty. However much of it is useful, though, is debatable.

Will: How do you mean?

Jo: Information in government records and Google searches turned up a buttload of atypical background stuff, practically a biography's worth. Corellia-born, worked as an intern for his parent's research and development firm, founded his own. Started doing city planning some years ago, or so our searches claim.

Anna: No aliases, assumed names, criminal records or history, ties to illegitimate practices. It's like he was born in this galaxy and grew up into a squeaky-clean business type.

Sylvia: Which he clearly is not.

Will: I managed to mention Financer to Duff and some others, but they're not seeing the resemblance either. Though they don't entirely trust him.

Cope: But we need them to fully distrust him if we're gonna do something about this!

Sylvia: So what do we do? We can't just let him plan on doing something horrible while everyone's wholly unaware for some contrived reason.

Jo: Yeah, but without any proper evidence or reason for doubt, besides simply looking at the guy, we can't bring in the authorities.

Anna: Hey, I just thought of something!

Will: What is it?

Anna: Okay, call me crazy, but you remember the other times we investigated someone? How those were usually carried out?

Cope: Wait, you mean…?

Anna: We're frickin' galaxy-saving Jedi: let's take the law into our own hands and bag the b****rd ourselves, like we always do!

(The group pauses for a moment)

Will: I'd be down for that.

Sylvia: No complaint from me.

Cope: Ditto.

Jo: Alright then: Let's go kick some a**.

(They start walking off)

Sara: You think the governor would be okay with us doing this sort of thing?

Anna: Never stopped us before!

(Some time later, inside the lobby of Synistech Headquarters, the air is rife with cheer as employees work merrily beneath the various decorations and lights that fill up the space. Suddenly the front doors slam open, knocking one unlucky worker to the side into a wall, and from outside stroll in the very grave-looking Jedi. They walked evenly, purposefully in a line formation through the lobby, shoving aside anyone who got in the way. As someone tried approaching them to ask how they could help, Cope flung him away with a Force Push. Sylvia does the same to someone carrying a tray of coffee and donuts, and Will flips one reindeer-hatted fellow into the ceiling, and another guy through some flaming circus hoops. Jo Force Grabs a guy before them and Force Shoulder-Tosses him back the way they came. Anna Force Moves a banana peel before a guy carrying papers, which he slips on and tosses up his burden. Everything goes slo-mo as through the falling sheets we catch a glimpse of the Jedi in tight-fitting leather wear, which then reverts back to their usual attires when time resumes normal speed. Halfway through the lobby, Sara Force Pushes a guy in a wheely office chair, careening him across the tiled floor before hitting a low wall, whereupon an air jet in his seat shoots off and launches him up in the air, wailing and spinning around like a dummy before crashing messily on the other side of the wall. Next up, Anna Force Pushes a lady worker high into the air, where she soars screaming before hitting and getting stuck into a large spiderweb occupied by several plushy spiders)

Luna: Huzzah!

(After all that nonsense, the Jedi finally reach the elevators and call them down. After a few seconds one of the doors open, but the Jedi find it occupied with a dead man in a grey sweater seated in a chair with a sign around his neck that read "I have a machine gun. Ho ho ho". The Jedi look at the corpse, then among each other, before shrugging and tossing the stiff and his chair unceremoniously out, which then collided into some worker's head behind them)

Worker: Agh, my aneurysm! (Collapse)

(The Jedi step in and the doors close. Some seconds later they reach the top floor, and step out into a wide corridor with long windows on the walls that leads to an unoccupied desk beside some slick, official-looking doors. Our heroes stride up along this corridor and Force Open the doors, stepping into the office beyond and coming face to face with the CEO himself: Francis Lather. He stood behind his modest wooden desk looking out the main window over the city, but turned around upon hearing the arrival)

Lather: Oh my, if it isn't the Jedi. Such a pleasant and unexpected surprise. I had been thinking of paying a visit to your temple so we could properly meet before the festival, but seems you beat me to it.

Will: Cut the crap. Tell us what your deal is.

Lather: Deal? I'm afraid I don't follow. Did you have something to say about the preparations, maybe a suggestion or two?

Sylvia: Yeah, we have something to say: what are you really planning, playing Mr. Nice Guy like you aren't some murdering egomaniacal psycho?

Lather: (Confused) I… still don't know what this is about. (Uncomfortable laugh) Was there… was there something about my planning that offended you? I'd be willing to change it, whatever it is. Hostilities aren't necessary; I'm a very reasonable man.

Jo: Look here, bub: you might have everyone else tricked because they're-let's be honest here-stupid, but you won't go fooling us. Now drop the act and let's get down to brass taxes here, ie us and you settling things like we usually do.

Lather: I… think you might have me confused with someone else. Though I've heard and read of your many acts of heroism and exploits, I've never personally spoken to any of you until now. Oh, but speaking of tricks… (Reaches for drawer of his desk, making all the Jedi tense. However, what he pulls out makes them stop) Gingerbread treats? These really help take the edge off. I get them from a small shop a short walk from here. Just the sweetest little baker who always smiles and says hello in her—

(Suddenly Cope rushes and tackles Lather head-on, slamming his back onto the desk and scattering the bag of gingerbread sticks while bringing a lit lightsaber up to his throat)

Cope: Enough games, a**hole!

Lather: I-I-I'm sorry! That joke was out of season and really grasping at straws, but please don't kill me over it!

Cope: Stop bulls****ing us and show us for who you really are, Financer, or I'll f***ing end you before you get a chance to!

Lather: F-Financer? But I-I-I-I don't do finance. I tried accounting one time but I was awful at it. (Has lightsaber pressed closer to his neck) Oh Please Dear God Don't Kill Me Mercy Please God Don't!

Sara: Alex, why don't ya ease up on him?

Cope: (Snaps) Why? He didn't ease up his foot when he stepped on me!

Sylvia: No… something isn't right here. It might not be him.

Cope: What!?

Anna: Yeah, think about it: would he really be blubbering and begging for his life like that, even if we had him cornered? He'd be laughing at us in that case.

(Cope looks to Lather, who is indeed blubbering and whimpering, making a mess of his face with unrestrained tears and snot. Cope hesitates a few moments, then releases Lather and pulls back, deactivating his lightsaber)

Cope: I guess so…

Jo: We should leave. (To Lather) Sorry about the mix-up.

(The Jedi turn and depart, leaving a puffy-eyed Lather to get back on his feet and collect himself. Back out in the corridor, a smartly-dressed male secretary approaches the departing Jedi)

Secretary: Why hello there. Did you have an appointment with Mr. La—

(Anna Force Flings him out a window, where he plummets screaming down thirty stories before crashing into a large switch box, causing a large Christmas tree in the plaza to light up. And there was much rejoicing)

Crowd: Yaaay!

(A short distance away, the Jedi exit from the building and walk away glumly)

Will: Well that was a wash.

Anna: I was pretty sure it was him. It wasn't just me, right? You all did too?

Sylvia: Yeah we did. I was so sure he had come back.

Cope: Should've been a no-brainer just to off him then and there, but something felt way off about doing it. You think it's the guilt catching up to us from all the other times we went in sabers flashing?

Anna: Naw, like that'll ever happen.

Sylvia: But I still don't entirely like him. Comes up from out of nowhere, and the governor never bothers to introduce us to him, or even make mention of him. It's only when we confronted him did he bring it up.

Jo: Something about him doesn't sit right, that's for sure, but for totally different reasons. Good news is he's not likely the Financer, though we should keep a close eye on him.

Sara: While maintaining our distance. We did sorta threaten his life and injure several of his employees.

Anna: Had to have killed at least two of them.

Will: Yeeeeeeeah, we'll just stick back to low profile.

Jo: And looking for Squishy. Perhaps with fewer riots this time.

Sylvia: (Sighs) So close to Christmas, and he's still nowhere to be found. A real crummy way to end the year if he's still missing by then.

Will: (Puts hand on Sylvia's shoulder) Not gonna happen.

Jo: If it comes down to it, we'll tear up the lower city till it's the upper city.

Anna: And shake down every type of crook around in the process.

Sara: At the very least, you won't spend the holidays alone.

(Sylvia looks fondly around her friends, and makes a grateful smile)

Sylvia: Thank you. All of you.

(The group snuggle up close to her, as they make their way out of the plaza)

---

Meanwhile, one night in Bangkok and the world's your oyster…

---

(In a cozy alcove deep within the Coruscant lower city, Pipley and his lovable misfits are sharing a hearty round of victorious guffaws in their shabby abode. It was certainly the hovel, made mostly of "living room" whose tarped and rubbish-raised walls bore all manner of gaudy, stolen Christmas decorations, as well as a dried up shrub covered in wreaths that passed for a Christmas tree. They sat around the crooked wooden table in the middle of their cluttered common room, the fruits of their daring escapade piled on high close by, beneath the glow of the myriad of festive lights that hung around the ceiling space)

Pipley: Right right, now listen up, me lovely band of desolutes, me precious sons of 'ores—

Tubbens: Hey, me mum was a saint!

Pipley: That she was, Tubbens. Poor taste on my part, and for that I apologize. But any of the ways, we had a right smashing victory against the establishments above with our bounteous candy heist, made possible by our deft and lovin' latest initiate, Stubby!

(A round of cheers and applause to the bashful Jawa)

Pipley: Because o' him, we've scored enough delights to last us into the tender first weeks of the new year. But rogues such as us cannot live by sweets alone. No, we need ourselves a bigger catch to see us through this miserable winter. Somefin within more meat, and I know just the haunch to do our bellies justice!

(Reaches down to pick up something, which he then slams down and flattens over the surface of the "table". It's a rather shoddy hand-drawn blueprint of some large complex, with names of various sections written out in large lettering)

Pipley: I'm talkin' the mother goose of savory scores: the Grand Aria Shopping Megaplex. Up to two hundred stores, ripe for the taking come next week. Every year round this time, the place is made empty as shoppers and shopkeeps swarm to merry make their night before the sight of ye grand ol' opening parade. Every year it's also locked tighter than a Hothian fishwife, but after today's breaking and entering, I say it's finally time to cut our rotting chompers on this crown jewel. With Stubby leading the charge, we'll finally breach those formidable walls and reap the uncountable and wondrous innards within. I'm talkin' a haul that could make us lords of the underworld, or enough to make us live right comfortable the next year over if we are opt for a humbler aspiration. The skies the limit this holiday, me gents, and I aim for us to pluck down the very stars.

Merkle: Now that's what I'm talking about!

Tim1: Right on!

Tim2: On right!

Mickey: Flagstaffa waffa ba-snaffa!

(As the plucky rabble let off their own war cries for the promise of plentiful plunder, there was one who remained silent. When the clamor died down, he finally spoke up)

Stubby: Hey guys, I'm not so sure. I mean, it was fun taking all that candy, and that shopkeep seemed pretty mean so it must've been alright robbing him. But, wouldn't stealing from a whole lot of stores be, you know… wrong?

(The group give him a curious look, then look back to each other momentarily before breaking down into laughter, much to the Jawa's confusion. Pipley is the first to compose himself, wiping a tear from his eye)

Pipley: Gettin' cold feet, Stubby? Suppose ya can't be blamed: score such as this can be much for a wee midget heart. But don't fret. As I said, not a creature will be stirring within to pester our sly endeavor.

Stubby: It just doesn't seem right, I don't know.

Pipley: Right? You talkin' bout right? Fancy you some expert on what's right and wrong here?

Scuzz: Oh boy, here it comes.

Pipley: 'Ere, lemme give ya the skivvy on what ain't right: them wealthy and well-off sops up above gettin' the decent comforts of living, while young hopefuls like us are cast aside and glared upon. Not just us, but loads of old-timers, vets, refugees, those unluckies not born with a silver spoon in their mouths so they have to make do with the garbage. Worst of it all is the Republic that every d*** one of us falls under. This 'ere great society, with its glowstick-wieldin' 'eroes and bullocks-all government, theys allow these wrongs to go on and they call that right. What right is there when kids like you and me are tossed for scrap, and the ones responsible get away scot free like they done nothin' heinous with their negligent selves? I was lucky not to have met my parents, but everyone else here either got abandoned, sold-off, or left to fend for themselves when they get passed over by the all-caring government. The only one of us who might have had the sweet life was dear Tubbens, but that ended when his sickly mother passed, and the great Republic did nothin' in terms of carin' for him.

Tubbens: I dream about her sometimes…

Pipley: So there's your right, Stubby. It's something the Republic makes up as they go, so long as it benefits the people with the most credits. And this being a supposed democracy, we should be free to make up our own rights as well, not for cash but for survival. It'll be a merry time for sure, but don't go gettin' your lil' head full of guilt nonsense. Ain't no guilt when yer makin' ends meet, aye?

Stubby: ...Yeah, you're right. Sorry, guys.

Mickey: (Puts hand on Stubby's shoulder) Nurbledee snurkle.

Pipley: So now that that's out of the way, let's see if we can do some plannin' before stoppin' for dinner, eh?

(Pipley goes over the blueprints, pointing out areas of interest for the approaching heist)

---

Thus the next several days went by uneventfully. While Pipley and his gang plotted their grandest of larcenies, our befuddled Jedi continued their scrutiny of Francis Lather, though from afar. Through intelligence gathering and private interviews of employees at Synistech, they learned of the machinery and vehicles that would be provided to carry out the upcoming parade: hover floats, to be specific. However, despite extensive perusal of company documents, blueprints, and even a secretive inspection of the factory, our heroes found nothing sinister about the product the kindly Mr. Lather was creating. Even with the legitimacy of Lather's operations, the Jedi couldn't fully bode well with the situation for some unexplainable reason, which was further compounded by Squishy's ongoing absence. However, all they could do was button up their doubts and help out with the festival, while continuing their searching.

Eventually, the big day arrived: the beginning of the year's final week. With excitement overtaking the city as the sun lowered from the sky, everyone made ready for the kick-off of Coruscant's grand celebrations.

---

(Nighttime, and the majority of Coruscant's citizenry has flocked to take position along the many walkways and balconies that follow the parade route. Festive balloons and strings of streamers fill up the otherwise empty airways, with a steady volume of crowd cheer and anticipation providing some tolerable background noise. Deep in the epicenter of the hubbub, the governor stood atop a large grandstand, with several other political and military dignitaries seated close by, including Lather. He was making announcements to the city at large, his face plastered on just about every holoscreen for miles)

Gov: Alright, fair citizens, it's ten minutes to showtime! Festivale is right upon us, but be sure to show your excitement responsibly. And if you're inclined too, please refrain from inciting riots until after the first three floats have made it past the quarter point. No need to act rashly and cause needless collateral damage for your fellow neighbors and your government to deal with, okay?

(Some ways from the grandstand and near the starting point of the parade, the Jedi are seated in an honorary box separated from the rest of the crowd. Sara looks around at the festive, anxious masses)

Sara: Quite a turnout. Then again it usually is.

Cope: What?!

Sara: I said there's a lot of people out!

Anna: Getting all riled up based on the noise. Parade better start on time, or there's gonna be one heck of an exuberant riot.

Will: That we'll undoubtedly have to suppress.

Anna: Yep.

(Meanwhile, in a quieter part of town[city], Pipley and his mischievers were loitering around beside a massive wall next to a door and beneath a very tiny open air vent. Muffled metallic bangings can be heard)

Pipley: No need to rush yourself, Stubby. Whole bloomin' lot is clear 'cross the city, so take as sweet a loud a time as you want.

Stubby: (Inside vent) Okay, I think I found that electrical panel.

Pipley: Top notch. Now just yank it and twist out the orange wire to release the door. Yer perky peepers should make it out in the dark.

(A clatter)

Stubby: Uhh, there's a laser grid over the wires.

Pipley: A wot?

Stubby: All in squares, though I can make out the wires behind them. They look pretty thick, and they're making a crackling sound. Would touching them set off the alarm?

Pipley: (Giving looks to others) …...Yeeeeeeeeah, that's what would happen, so make sure not to touch 'em. Like, not with any part of your clothes, even. Just to be safe.

(After some tense seconds, there's a sharp crackle and a dying electric whir)

Stubby: Okay, got it!

(An unlatching sound comes from the door)

Pipley: Pure aces, mate! Now come out so we can reap the spoils.

(Stubby makes his way back to the vent opening, and is pulled out by Pipley. The group then go over to the door, which gets a once-over by Merkle, who gives a thumbs up before opening it. They get inside and close the door, then make their way down a dimly lit maintenance corridor. Eventually, they reach another door, which Merkle disarms before they go through. On the other side, the group stand in awe at the vast interior of the shopping megaplex. Three levels packed with stores, all arranged in a grand rectangle that stretches out a mile in length. Letting his boys take it in, Pipley makes a smirk as he mentally plans his own shopping list)

Pipley: Alright, gentlemen. Christmas shoppin's officially begun.

(His gang disperse giddily into the mall, whom he follows shortly at a more reserved pace. Back across town[city], inside a hanger/preparation area, the crew and operators of the various parade floats are running around, making final inspections and getting everything loaded and powered on. Amid the chaos, Chris marches about shouting some final encouragements, all while wearing a red coat and thick black snow boots)

Chris: Showtime is nearly here, people! Get your holiday-coated a**es into gear, there's good cheer to spread! And if I catch any ho-ho-horsing around Imma knock some teeth out!

(As he's going down the lines, he comes across the hulking but steadfast and honorable whale-model Reploid, Duff McWhalan, and his trusty four-armed second-in-command, Launch Octopus)

Chris: Rear Admiral, how are preparations coming along on your end?

Duff: They're coming along fine, Chris. Though, to be honest, I wouldn't mind spectating for once during a parade. Seems a bit unnecessary for an old bucket like me to be carried around for a Christmas show.

Chris: It's something to be expected, my friend. Gotta show the people our dazzling men in blue, and all those other colors that escape me. You up for the afterparty though, right?

Duff: I'll probably have to pass on that. I'm not very big on outlandish partying.

Launch: But I totally am! You bet I'll be there!

Chris: Good man-octopus-robot! See you after the parade, and BYOB, or BYOO in that case.

Launch: We don't need oil, but yeah I got myself covered!

Duff: Okay, Octopardo, let's get to our float.

Launch: Right on!

(The two MMX bosses head to their float, and Chris does the same. As he arrives at his designated float, which is a large platform adorned with a long Santa sleigh bearing assorted sacks of gifts, his reliable whipping boy comes running up to him with a Santa hat in his hands)

Chris: Jennings! Glad to see you're not slacking off. Or are you?

Jennings: N-No way, Sarge! I just came by because you forgot your hat.

Chris: Ah, perfect. (Takes hat and puts it on his head) That should complete the ensemble. Am I wearing pants?

Jennings: You are, Sarge.

Chris: Excellent. The fabric is so breathable, it's like I'm wearing nothing at all. (Puts thumbs into pants waist, gives a tug and lets it snap back in place) I invested a small fortune into these Jolly Jumpers, so might as well show them off as much as possible. Anyway, let's get on the float and make ready.

Jennings: But, Sarge, I'm just floor crew.

Chris: Now you're elevated to float detail, so get along.

Jennings: But-but, why would you want someone like me up there? You know how nervous I am when being at the center of attention.

Chris: (Takes hold of Jennings' shoulders) Listen, what kind of Santa would I be without his reliable elf? Sure, you may be asking why there isn't someone more qualified to play my part, but my beard is the only thing that fitted the bill at the last second. Besides, I make up for all the other shortcomings with sheer jollitude. With that said, you're gonna get on that float where you belong. If that sled's up and you're not on it, you're gonna regret it. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow… maybe never, but this is your chance to be a part of something grand and magical, that brings happiness to millions of people of all races, young and old alike.

Jennings: Wow, really? When you put it that way...

Chris: (Stands back) Jennings, will you join my sleigh ride tonight?

Jennings: Gee, Sarge, I, I don't know what to—

Chris: Whoops, I phrased that as a question; I meant that as an order. Now get your butt in that sled!

(Jennings yips and hurries over to the float. Chris takes a moment to look over his ride for the evening, before switching his glasses to shades-mode)

Chris: D*** it feels good getting into the Christmas spirit.

(He follows after his lackey. Back outside, anticipation has reached a fever pitch as the humongous crowd has reached its most restless. In the private box, Jo checks his space watch)

Jo: It's been ten minutes. Hope they got things together over there.

(As though in reply, the governor has taken the stand again across all the holoscreens)

Gov: Alright wonderful commonwealth, as promised the parade shall begin. But before so, I would like our most helpful and generous parade overseer to say a few words.

(A massive wave of groans from seemingly the entire planet erupts, just as Lather takes the stand in the governor's place)

Lather: Don't worry, I'll keep this brief. (Clears throat) The past week here on Coruscant has shown me a kindness and acceptance that I never would have expected from a metropolis this large. Though I'm a city boy from Corellia myself, the sheer warmth of the people on this planet and the many helpful and friendly visits from them have been a most enjoyable surprise. Whether it's the season or your inborn nature, I still thank you all for treating me as one of your own. (Looks in the direction of the Jedi) And though there may have been some rough patches and misunderstandings at some points, I'm happy to see things have smoothed over, and that all of us can celebrate harmoniously for this grand week of galactic holiday cheer.

(The Jedi look around uncomfortably, remembering their not-so-proud last encounter with Lather)

Lather: With that said, let the celebrations commence!

(Back inside the float hanger)

Crewman: We got the signal!

Chris: Saddle up, boys! (Pops candy cane into mouth) This is it!

Duff: Petty Officer, play us out.

(Turn to a hover platform holding the hammer-headed Metal Shark Player and his anchor-shaped, military-issue electric guitar. He gives a two-fingered salute to his commander, then begins plucking the strings. Then he strums it into full volume as he begins to play out "Carol of the Bells" by Trans Siberian Orchestra. As the beats and the twanging of melodic metal fill the air, the floats hum to life and lift off, then proceed to follow the guiding lights and the gestures of the ground crew. With the music kicking up to climax, the din outdoors goes silent as the first floats come out from the hanger and into the city airways proper. As the floats take to the skies and light up their decorations, the crowd goes wild, in perfect timing to the finish of Metal's set. While celebrations were underway in the city, a more modest and illegal sort of celebration was happening at Grand Aria)

(Inside the mall, the youths are going about plundering store after store, grabbing up whatever they want as well as items for survival in the underworld, but mostly goodies for themselves. Most of them had made use of the hover shopping carts in some of the stores, and some wound up pulling along upwards of three full carts during their spree. For Stubby, though, he was content with grabbing some shopping bags and loading up on foodstuffs and sweets. However, at one point he stops in at a toy store and gets hold of a soccer ball, which he merrily kicks down the long, empty walkways. He glances to the side during his run, and immediately stops and turns to what he sees, the soccer ball forgotten. Before him is a storefront with a gilded facade, and windows sparse in decoration, showing only a few stands displaying jewelry. Nothing remarkable compared to the looks of the other stores, but this one still grabbed his attention for some reason. At that moment, Merkle passed by, carrying a huge bundle of snazzy watches in his arms)

Stubby: Hey, Merkle, what kind of store is that?

Merkle: Huh? (Stops and looks) Oh, you don't want to mess with that place. Regular high-end jewelry store, but the owner's a complete paranoid nutcase. Booby-traps the displays, no doubt he's rigged the place to blow when he's not around. Besides, far easier places to hock goods. (Jingles watch load) How bout getting a move on? Night won't last forever.

Stubby: Oh, yeah! On it.

(Merkle leaves and Stubby follows, but not before making one final lingering glance at the jewelry store. Nearby, unseen, a green robotic snake rose up and followed the retreating youths with its single camera eye. It snaps a picture, then lowers and slithers away silently. Back to the grand festivities, the crowd gives out regular cheers and joyous murmurs with each passing float, each one representing a major holiday from a different planet. However, there are a few Christmas-themed ones in-between, and following behind the float helmed by Duff and his Mega Man Bosses was Chris' sleigh float. The crewmen onboard take turns throwing out goodie bags of candy and toys to the passing crowd, all while Chris waves and looks jolly in his sunglasses and the candy cane he has dangling from his mouth like a stogie. The Jedi look to be enjoying themselves well enough, sitting in their private box and getting some of the first glimpses of each new float. However, Sylvia sighs and looks down from the parade)

Sara: You okay, Sylvia?

Sylvia: Not really. Squishy is still out there, probably in some ditch or locked away somewhere. Maybe… dead.

Will: Hey, don't say that! He's been through worse, same as the rest of us. What kind of crappy end would that be? You know the audience wouldn't let that kind of thing go.

Sylvia: It's just… every year, me and him would have our own private celebration after the parade and whatever party followed. It's just going to be lonely this year instead…

Jo: If it's any consolation, I'm lonely too. Always have been every year. You get used to it.

Cope: Not helping, Jo!

(Turn back up to the main grandstand, where everyone is sitting and enjoying the spectacle. The governor is looking especially pleased, leaning over and nudging Lather)

Gov: A real good turnout, wouldn't you say? All nicely executed and no foul-ups to be piled on me. Gotta hand it to you, Frank, you pulled out all the stops for this one. Marvelous presentation, and at a completely affordable budget, surely the best kick-off parade, period! I'm willing to bet this alone will keep my head afloat as far as PR goes next year.

Lather: You give me too much credit again, governor. I only put in the necessary amount of work and preparation to properly host a celebration on so large a scale, but it's the workers and staff who put it all together.

Gov: A humble shrew of an operator if there ever was one. Say, how would you like to be my running mate? I never had one before, but together we could rule the galaxy! Well, more so than we already do.

Lather: (Chuckles) No no no. I've never been political in the slightest. I'm simply glad that I was able to bring so much joy to all these wonderful citizens.

(The governor nods and looks back to the parade. Lather looks up to the sky and notices a large time display over one of the massive shows 9:59PM, but as it blinks the seconds by, everything seems to quiet down as Lather just looks at it, as though in a trance. Finally it changes to 10 PM, and a quick flash goes over the lenses of Lather's glasses. A corner of his mouth curves up into a devious grin)

Lather: And I have a lot more giving to do.

(The sound returning to normal, Lather rises from his seat and steps up to the lectern. He taps the mic a few times, and one of the large holoscreens switches over to him. The crowd's attention turns from the parade and toward the organizer)

Lather: Dear citizens of Coruscant, it warms my heart seeing the whole lot of you joined together in revelry and goodwill. All races, all sexes, free of spite and filled to the brim with happiness. Forgetting hardships, past traumas, the fears felt during times of dire straits and hopelessness. Allowing yourselves to feel like something more than a teeny spec in a petri dish of cosmic emptiness. To see the faces of adults light up with glee, and the children laughing as warm memories form in their adorable little heads, with no concept of cruelty and despair for this one night. Such joys, made possible by my own design and the acceptance of your thrifty government. However, I still wish to part one additional gift to you, lovely citizens of the Republic. But not alone. I mean, what's Santa Claus without his little helpers?

(Snaps his fingers. Suddenly, all around the city and within the parade, technology began to spark and grind. Various decorations came undone from the buildings, taking parts of it with them. To the confusion and horror of many of the float operators, their vehicles began to bend and break and morph into grotesque shapes that threw them off to the sides or the deep chasm of the airways. Limbs grew from the hunks of metal, arms and legs of sharp edges and wicked gears, adorned with vile metallic heads of jagged teeth and fiery red eyes. From their shoulders and waists sprouted thick long chains that clanked and clattered about their heavy forms, and from their backs they pulled out bundles of rough metal wires that looked like crude, grey, lifeless bouquets. The metal monstrosities swarmed all over the parade route, on rooftops and walkways and even hovering in the air supported by various mini-jets in their bodies. Unsurprisingly, everyone freaks the fudge out, screaming and running or standing in utter terror, but mostly just running for their lives. Yet Lather remains at the lectern, a sinister smile on his face)

Lather: A whole legion of Krampustrons, custom-made to enact punishment for all the bad you so pitifully tried to hide by being nice to one another for one measly month. They will be the deliverers of your final present for this night's proceedings. From your ever-generous Great Devastator, I give you: The Gift of Annihilation!

(The Krampustrons roar in acknowledgement before plunging into the terrified masses, chains and switches swinging. The Jedi are looking over this sudden attack with dismay and anger)

Anna: D***it! Of course it really was him!

Will: There was nothing in those blueprints about there being chains, or them being able to transform!

Cope: Shoulda killed him when I had the chance!

(On one of the few floats that hadn't changed, Duff and his men look at the madness that had erupted around them)

Duff: The planet's under attack! Get everyone out there and protect the civilians!

Launch: Roger!

(Duff leaps from his float to lead the charge, followed by several other Mega Man bosses including Launch, who takes the opportunity to fire off some missiles at a few Krampustrons. Their involvement only add to Lather's maddening delight and insane smile)

Lather: That's right, join in the fray! Add to the chaos of battle and make this sweet slaughter a little more interesting! Aaahahahaha!

(The governor steps up and interrupts his laugh)

Gov: Hey, Frankie? This is nothing like we've discussed. It makes a nice surprise and all, but I mean, giant robot terrors flying everywhere, damaging property and harming civilians? I demand to know exactly what this is— (Is silenced when Lather clutches a hand against his cheeks, locking his mouth)

Lather: You are far too tiresome.

(Backhands the governor unconscious. The security detail and some military officers arise to face him, but Lather reaches back, tears away the lectern and wallops them flat with it, making the other guests flee in terror. Meanwhile, on the Santa float, Chris and his men watch the scene unfolding all around them. Most of the men, especially Jennings, look confused and horrified. But Chris has a sterner, more annoyed look)

Chris: Well s***... (Crunches through candy cane, then to the others onboard,) I figured something like this was gonna happen. But like any good general, I came prepared. (He stomps his boot, and before him the floor parts open and two hefty SAW-styled laser rifles spring up into the air. Chris snatches them and locks them to his side) Alright men, arm-up and get ready to make some Hell!

(The personnel and Jennings hurry to the weapons locker at the back of the float and load up)

Chris: Let's turn this yuletide back in our favor! RAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH!

(Both his rifles fire off as he shouts, blasting away whatever Krampustrons happen to be close by. The other soldiers onboard fire as well, and soon the air is filled with laser fire and explosions as smaller Krampustrons blow up. However, there's still too many to count wreaking havoc everywhere)

Sylvia: We need to get out there!

Jo: Right! Let's go!

(Before they can move, the Jedi find themselves grabbed by an invisible force which pulls them roughly from the spectator box and across the airway, stopping them midair before Lather, who has a hand raised up and a sardonic smirk at his captives)

Lather: Ah, Jedi, just the people I wanted to talk to! There's so much catching up to do! (A scream from offscreen gives him pause) Probably be best if we found someplace a little more quiet, first.

(With a twist of the wrist he made himself airborne as well, and a split second later they're all soaring up into the sky. After some seconds the Jedi are unceremoniously dropped onto an empty building rooftop away from the chaos below, while Lather gracefully lands before them in the same commanding stature as before. Once the Jedi get back on their feet, he resumes)

Lather: Ah, much better. Now to slip into something less formal.

(Waves his arm before him, and in an instant his suit morphs into a deep black coat, and Lather assumes his true identity of Financer before his heroic audience)

Fin: Perfect. (Clasps hands) So how are you enjoying your holidays, old friends?

Sylvia: We're no friends of yours, you lunatic.

Fin: True enough, but it still has been a very long time since I've seen your lovely faces. Despite my contempt for your pampered existences, I couldn't help but miss them just a little bit.

Jo: So why are you here then?

Anna: And how did you get here? You're supposed to be locked away by Contractor.

Fin: More like indefinite house arrest. But funny you should mention him, for it was our new Master elect's idea that got me here.

Jedi: WHAT!?

Fin: Ahh! Those shouts of disbelief, how it fills me with warm nostalgia! (Hugs self)

Sylvia: What's this about the Contractor getting you here!?

Fin: Oh that. Well, simply put, he came to me rather bored and offering me a chance to go out and do what I do best, but in the form of a wager.

Sara: Wager?

Fin: Yes. He would allow me back into your precious universe, but with limited power, so no planet-tossing or black hole generating abilities, though still enough to make smears out of you across half the planet. However, the catch was I had to come up with some plan of attack that would catch all of you by surprise, to be carried out in the span of a week, all while I was rendered bereft of my powers but keeping my same dashing looks for all to see. In other words, I had to go incognito and not get caught for that long, after which I was free to reign havoc to my heart's delight. That would have been no challenge against 99% of this realm's inhabitants, but you Jedi had to be burdened with intuition and common sense. So I had to think up something to outwit even yourselves.

Cope: A lot of trouble to go through, seeing how you usually do things.

Fin: Like you wouldn't believe. But I was able to spare myself much of the tedium through a most ingenious approach. It took some working out between that fool and myself, but we eventually agreed upon what sort of attack I'd attempt. I would set up a fake identity, establish a base of operations to build the necessary tools to carry out my little doomsday, and then plant myself and wait and see if anyone catches me. I sealed away my memories for that weeklong period and let my alter ego Francis Lather run things on autopilot until the big night. Specifically, ten p.m. of this night, when everyone is gathered round and ripe for the slaughter. And yes, I did steal the idea from Dr. Who. Deal With It!

SHADES ALL DAY

(After it finishes raining sunglasses, Financer takes his pair off)

Fin: But yeah, that was my diabolical scheme, and it worked perfectly!

Jo: Except for the fact that we totally figured you out practically from the start.

Fin: Except for the total undeniable fact that you didn't follow through on it. You were very close, but noooooooo cigar, heh heh heh. Even with your occasional bouts of violence and destruction, you're still fettered by a feeble conscience and your Jedi code. And now everyone on this planet will experience olden time Germanic holiday wrath that's gone unseen for centuries.

Anna: Cuz you cheated with the blueprints. We totally would have found you out if we knew they could turn into murderbots.

Fin: Oh, that? No no, they were built solely for parade use. It's just with a little of the ol' black magic, I could morph them into whatever I wanted, hehehehe.

Sylvia: Cheap way of sneaking through.

Fin: Which was perfectly fine with Contractor. Oh, speaking of which...

Sylvia: Hm?

Fin: Why should Coruscant have all the fun this year? Every time there's a disaster or calamity, it usually happens right here. Well, except when I came by here the first time, but I still made it the site of my grand master stroke. But this time around, I figured I'd spread the love around. And luckily, your benevolent creator agreed.

(With a snap of his fingers, the holoscreens around the cityscape, which had originally been showing the chaos of Coruscant, switched to scenes of mayhem in completely different locations. Different architectures, different alien species, different colored skies, all of them under attack by Krampustrons)

Fin: Kuat, Corellia, Rodia, Mon Calamari. All of them having their own grand time, just like their precious galactic capital. (Half-turns) I must give you credit, taking the time to do background checks before confronting me. Very meticulous, practical. However, it may have benefitted you to have looked to see who was organizing the parades on these other planets as well.

(Instantly, four portals tear open around him, revealing four very familiar looking faces, albeit with minor alterations to hair and clothing and apparel)

Fin: Francis Lather is a fine enough name, as is—

Fin2: Franklin Derse.

Fin3: Fred Korbana.

Fin4: Francisco Delaraine.

Fin5: Fondo Wrothberg.

Fin: All with their own back histories, credentials and memory sets. But you have to admit, the resemblance is quite uncanny.

(The four doppelgangers step through their portals and merge with Financer, who radiates added power while the portals seal away)

Fin: Ah yeah, back together. You know, you could've taken me out while I was rambling. Only a fraction of my strength, might've done it with little difficulty. But now I'm at full power and ready to hit the town!

Anna: Not unless we stop you you won't!

(The Jedi whip out their lightsabers and assume battle stances)

Fin: Peh! Like those other times?

Jo: We pretty much had you on Korriban. You didn't go down because you had god mode on!

Fin: You almost had me only because your go-to savior Squishy leveled things out enough for you to even stand a chance. Speaking of which… I just realized: where is that insufferable speck?

Sylvia: You… you don't know?

Fin: No. Why should I?

Sara: Weren't you the one who kidnapped him?

Fin: Kidnapped? What? (Guffaws) That'd utterly ruin the surprise if I kept one of you away for myself, and it's not like having him out of the way would've made any difference. Wait, are you saying… he's missing? That's something of a letdown. Almost ruins the savoriness of victory.

Will: Then let's make it worse for ya!

Fin: Right, sure, you can go ahead and try, I'm up for it! Though, let me ask you something. Which is more imperative: getting out all your frustrations while being decimated yet again by me, or seeing to the welfare of those you have sworn yourselves to protect?

(The Jedi pause, then look back at the mayhem below. Buildings, hover cars being torn and wrecked, explosions and fires, civilians running and screaming and dying, and hails of laser fire from the Republic soldiers that have finally come onto the scene)

Fin: If you so chance to defeat me, unlikely though it is, that won't stop my lovely creations. They've already been set to Destroy, and they won't stop until every moving object on this planet has stopped. Then they'll just move on out into orbit and proceed from there. As for me, I'll just stand here and watch the atrocities unfold. They have things well in hand, so no point in me joining in. My own little vacation, hmhmhm.

(The Jedi glare at his sly look, but they hesitate among themselves before turning and jumping off into the sea of madness below. Financer walks over to the edge and sees them launching into attack, with a grin of self-satisfaction most profound)

Fin: So predictable, but at least you stand something of a chance against them. (Claps hands and spreads arms) Now, time to ring in the New Year!

(He goes back to his previous spot to take in the symphony of destruction he set into motion all around him. However, some distance outside the kill zone inside the Grand Aria, Pipley and crew were wrapping up their "shopping" blissfully unaware of the sudden turn of events outside. Near the maintenance entry they came in from, the boys had lined up nearly a dozen hover carts of stolen goods, tied together with wrapping twine. Pipley marches before his merry band, looking down a lengthy list)

Pipley: Right fine haul this is, right as 'ell fine haul! Everythin' to keep our little boy 'earts content for pleasure and keep our shaggy bodies whole till well into the next year. Outdone yourselves right ya did, me boys. Since we took care of the inventory now then we won't have ta bother once we get back, so it's time we bid our adieus and how-do-ya-dos. Speaking of which, where's that jolly sack Tubbens?

Tim1: One last candy run I reckon.

Tim2: Another go for candy, he said.

Pipley: Well he better hurry right quick, less he wants to trundle along by his lone self in the dark. Ah, there ee is.

(Show Tubbens waddling along with another armful of sweets)

Tubbens: Sorry for being late! Couldn't help myself.

Pipley: No sweats there, sweet Tubbens. The holidays, it's foine to get carried away. Though given how full these carts are, you'll be carryin' that load back to home.

Tubbens: Aww shucks…

Scuzz: Say, you seemed to have dropped a candy rope.

Tubbens: Oh, I did? (Looks around) Where?

Scuzz: That green one near your left foot.

Tubbens: I don't remember picking up any green ones… YEEEHHH!

(Tubbens hops back at the frightful sight of a length of coiled metal unraveling itself and rising, revealing itself as a mechanical hissing snake. Some more of the slithering machines creep up close to it, and the others turn to see more of them swarming in to surround them, with a veritable flood coming out from the maintenance tunnel)

Pipley: Cor, security now of all times!? Grab what you can and run, lads!

(Pipley scoops up an armful of the goods from the carts, and the others do the same before fleeing from the snake swarm. As they run, dropping bits of their loot with every jaunt, the robo-snakes pour out from seemingly every nook and cranny along their path. Eventually they catch up and began to nip and snare the shabby pant legs and limbs of the culprits. Tubbens tumbles and hits the ground on his belly, crushing his dear candy. The Twins keep tripping up around the serpents, though Scuzz manages to hop around to some degree of success. Mickey stomps and head-smacks savagely to Merkle's aid, but in vain, for every crushed snake brought in three more. Pipley barely manages to outrun the snakes, but he comes to a halt as a bulky figure lands in front of him. It appeared to be a man, only with a gun arm and wearing a snake suit that's seemingly grafted onto his very being)

Snake Man: Aha! Thought you could pull a fassst one while your friendsss played decoysss? Well no one esscapesss Sssnake Man! (Raises gun arm as Pipley tries to make a move) Don't even try it. I'm asss quick on the draw asss my loveliesss are at catching thieving punksss.

(Speaking of which, the robo-snakes herd the other boys over to them, nipping at their heels to keep them in line)

Snake Man: Drop 'em. (The boys drop their loot) Figured you could make a sssweet payday with everyone gone? The ownersss thought the sssame, and hired the massster of sssurveillance himssself! Which isss me, by the way, and not that glory hog Sssearch Man. Can't wait to rub thisss into hisss dumb duo face!

Pipley: Nice way to keep costs down, using just one slithery bloke. Though you took long enough to do sumthin' bout your defenseless wares.

Snake Man: The viper knowsss when to ssstay hidden and when to ssstrike. I wasss sssimply biding my time, giving you a falssse sssenssse of ssssecurity. All the sssweeter once I ssssprung my trap!

Merkle: Oh jeez quit with the hissing, it's messing with my ears already!

Tim2: Not to mention really obnoxious.

Tim1: Immensely so.

Snake Man: Enough out of you! You'll have plenty of time to gripe after I haul your lot to the hoosssegow.

(Stubby hops around from some of the robo-snakes harassing him)

Stubby: Ow, quit biting my butt!

Snake Man: Hold on, that voice. (Looks at the Jawa) Sssquishy? Where have you been? We've been looking for you for a week!

Stubby: Wha?

Snake Man: Yeah! The commander had usss keep an eye out for you. What are you doing hanging around around thessse no-good thievesss?

Pipley: Oy, you off your rocker, scale face? This 'ere is Stubby, and we already proved he ain't no stuffy-a** Jedi.

Snake Man: Lisssten, I don't know how you wound up with thisss crowd, but I'll take you back. Sssylvia's been real worried about you, from what I heard.

Stubby: Back to where? And who's Sylvia?

(A rumble fills the mall)

Merkle: What's that?

(The rumbling intensifies until the ceiling suddenly bursts in with a tremendous crash. From the gaping hole there fell in a rain of debris from other buildings, preceding the descent of one very large and ferocious Krampustron. Through the sound and fury the metallic beast catches Snake Man unawares by snatching him in its massive razor jaws before spiriting him away, yelling)

Mickey: Cor Blimery!

Pipley: Run before we get nicked!

(The boys run away yelling, as other parts of the mall start coming under attack from outside. The battle for the planet wages on, now having spread over a good quadrant of the cityscape. Buildings, homes, hover cars, walkways, any and all things are torn asunder by the marauding Krampustrons, with civilians doing their best to find shelter or run about in a panic. The defenses of the Republic had finally taken the field and lay into the terrors with assault ships and laser fire, but more often than not they're overwhelmed after only felling a few of the robots. Speaking of, the Mega Man Boss Corps. is having their hands full defending the city as well. Slash Man slashes away at the attackers until a chain catches one of his claws, but he quickly cuts it and frees himself. The Skiver leads some of the bots in an aerial chase, which Cloud Man snipes at with some lightning bolts until he gets smashed by a tossed car. Shadow Man and Yamato Man spring across the roofs together, firing off their respective projectiles. Wire Sponge hooks one Krampustron and slams it into a building before swinging away after another. Dust Man sucks up debris from atop a roof, creating large garbage blocks which Guts Man uses to chuck at Krampustrons with brutal accuracy. Split Mushroom uses his cloaking to give some of the bots the slip, while Sting Chameleon snipes with his stinger tail from the side of a building before it gets smashed by an attacking chain. Many and more of Duff's fighters give it their all, but there are just too many foes and too much destruction. All the while, the Financer dances atop his lonely perch, singing in unabashed delight)

Fin: The carnage outside is frightful

But the fires, they are, delightful.

And since you've got nowhere to go:

Let it blow, let it blow, let it blow!

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

(Before he can continue, some blaster shots hit his arm and chest, leaving wisps of smoke that interrupt his fun times. He looks down at the line of Republic soldiers who have started firing on him)

Fin: Hey! The fight's over there, you worms!

(Pulls back and flings out an arm, creating an air burst that blows the soldiers back and off the rooftop, screaming to their deaths. Financer has himself a hearty laugh)

Fin: What idiots. And what's funnier, no one's going to miss them! HA!

(He resumes his dancing and singing as the city burns and collapses all around him. Meanwhile, our wayward thieves have escaped the mall and are mad dashing down alleyways, avoiding rubble falling down from above and the occasional collapsing wall. Some way down a stretch of alley, a Krampustron drops in from above and lands some yards before them, roaring at them with flaming eyes. The boys stop and yell before fleeing down a side corridor. The menacing machine makes to pursue, but then it hears a whisk behind it. It turns around to roar, only to get a faceful of fire. The one to start the fire was, shockingly enough, the portly jewelry store owner, dual-wielding two hefty flamethrowers with a delightful grin beneath his mustache. The Krampustron roars, only to get an unrelenting stream of heat that quickly melts its face and shorts out its circuitry. The monster nothing more than a bubbling puddle of hot metal, the owner looks over his weapons)

Owner: Finally, a chance to join in on all the action with my two darlings! And there won't be any fuss with the authorities given that this is a crisis. Ohhh, the exhilaration of performing one's civic duty with gusto!

(He turns and carries on his own happy little rampage, spewing a trail of inferno before him at whatever prey he chances upon. As for the boys, they continue their scamper unhindered but thoroughly panicked)

Tubbens: Oh cripes, *huff huff* I'm getting a cramp!

Merkle: Stuff it, Tubs! What do we do now, boss?

Pipley: Make for the streets, more room to run, gives us better options.

Merkle: You crazy!? It sounds like a warzone out there and you wanna run straight into it?

Pipley: Dunno bout you, matey, but I'd like to see whatever comes to knock me block off and not have to worry bout some wall fallin' atop me.

Scuzz: We could cut through those blown-out buildings, should get us out there.

Pipley: Good lad. So hop to it!

(The group veers into a building that's missing a good chunk of its side, and as they hop and run through the gutted-out establishments, the large holoscreens of the city light up with the Financer's smirking mug)

Fin: Season's greetings, my blood puppets! Enjoying your holiday celebration so far? Well I'm happy to report that, like any good blizzard, it shows no signs of stopping, nor will it, until you're done dropping!

(While he talks, the boys down below dash across the floor of a destroyed streetside store, its front torn out along with much of the structure above it. Stubby pulls up the rear, but halfway across the sales floor he glances to the side and stops upon seeing Financer's gloating visage. He turns to fully face it, as Merkle and Mickey pop back in from the way they came out)

Merkle: What the heck are you doing, Stubby? Get over here!

Mickey: Flurburble snerble kerbledee!

Fin: Though it pains me that I couldn't give you the spectacularly swift yet agonizing deaths you so rightly deserve, rest assured that your great Financer will see to it that you all meet with an awful demise nevertheless. And as before, there is no one who can save you.

(The holoscreens around the city flicker and switch to various scenes of army and Mega Man Bosses battling the Krampustrons, though it looked more to be struggling)

Fin: Your military proves impotent once again in stopping my will. Worthless fodder for my wonderful Krampustrons. And that goes the same for your "great" Jedi.

(The screens now switch to the Jedi, who had split up to face off with the Krampustrons with lightsabers a-swinging. Anna makes use of her lightning and Will has added help with a blaster, but they're having a tough time of things as well)

Fin: See your champions struggle in vain to stave off your deaths as well as their own. This universe of yours was always meant for turmoil, and turmoil I have delivered! Once your heroes have fallen and your shelters crumble, you will then meet oblivion's sweet embrace, and with no hope of being pulled back out as before. For winter is the time of darkness, of passing, and all men must die. You chose to forget that very important fact with your wrappings and carolling and commercialism, but before you die, I'll see to it that the true meaning of the holidays will be burned into your miserable skulls!

(Stubby looks transfixed on the scenes of the Jedi's valiant struggles, particularly on those of the lone Ssi-Ruu warrior)

Stubby: Sylvia...

Merkle: Stubby! Move!

Pipley: Leave 'im, he's a goner!

(Just then an explosion is heard, and the lads look out the storefront to see a hover car tumbling in an arch, coming right at them. Pipley and crew duck away, but Stubby just stares. As the vehicle gets closer, Stubby slowly raises up an arm and holds out an open palm toward the car. Seconds later and the car comes careening at him, only to come to a standstill midair mere feet from him, much to the stunned looks of his fellows and the occupants of the vehicle. After some tense seconds, Stubby lowers his arm, gently setting the car on the walkway outside. Pipley and the others come from their hiding spot and get closer to him)

Tim1: How about that?

Scuzz: Yeah…

Pipley: Huh… Guess'n you weres a Jedi after all.

(The Jawa looks over to them)

Squishy: Hey guys. You okay?

Tubbens: Uh y-yessir, Mr. Jedi sir!

Squishy: Good to know.

(He shifts as he looks down at his arm, then raises it up to show his hand glowing a soft red aura. He raises the other one and sees it's doing the same, and to the boys' amazement, a red outline has formed around his diminutive form. After acknowledging the phenomenon, Squishy looks back over to the lads who had taken him in, a cocksure glimmer in his eyes)

Squishy: Hey, you wanna see a Christmas miracle?

(Before anyone can answer, Squishy suddenly lifts off the ground, and rises up through the hole before him and into the higher reaches of the airways, the boys and the passengers of the hover car looking in silent awe. Some ways away, in the thick of battle, Will and Jo slash out near each other at the encroaching Krampustrons. They manage to break away from their foes and leap up back-to-back with each other, catching their breaths)

Will: How much more do you think we have to put up with?

Jo: Too many.

Will: Well aside from there being a lot of them and being butt-ugly, they aren't that bad. Nothing to write home about, either.

Jo: Glad you're finding some fun out of this.

Will: Been a while since we had one of these battles. It's pretty refreshing.

Jo: Yeah, it kinda is, to be honest.

(There's a dying roar and a Krampustron plummets nearby, with Cope riding it down)

Cope: Enough lollygagging, guys!

(Jo and Will nod)

Will: Wanna start a kill count this round?

Jo: Why bother? There's plenty enough to go around.

(They part and leap back into the fray. Atop a pile of rubble, Sara scopes out the field of combat to see if there's anyone in immediate danger. But then her gaze chances upon something skyward)

Sara: Hey! Up there!

(Nearby Jedi pause and look up, even Anna, who was in the middle of frying up a Krampustron. From between the buildings, they catch a red light shining brilliantly and rising up. Elsewhere, Chris stomps down on a fallen bot's head and blows it off with a shotgun, but then he looks up as a red glow comes down from the sky, lifting up his shades as he does so. The soldiers around him also stop to look)

Soldier: What is that?

Chris: Something that's more in the spirit. (Smokes a candy stogie) Heh, and it's about d*** time.

(The beacon clears the skyline and reaches open sky, passing the full moon that hung over the planet. As it passed the pale lunar face, the short robed figure within can be made out. With a claw dug deep into the side of a Krampustron and her lightsaber plunged through its neck, Sylvia stares wide-eyed at the rising star)

Sylvia: Squishy? (She yanks off the robot's head with her saber, never looking from the sight in the sky)

(Even the Financer can't help but notice)

Fin: Well, bugger.

(As Squishy rises above the winter moon, Dragonforce's "Above the Winter Moonlight" starts to play. The opening synth solo grows in intensity along with Squishy's radiance, which casts a red and empowering light over the city below. Citizens once in panic stop and look, eased at heart and filling with newfound hope. From his lofty height, Squishy looks over his now-blazing hands, then holds them to his chest tightly. Then as the guitar screams out, he throws out his arms and his whole body erupts into a fiery new form! Towering at over six feet in height, with a blazing heavy coat, sturdy boots, a gleaming steeple hat, two piercing yellow eyes, and a pair of wings made of radiant passion, the being emitted a warmth that spread out far below, captivating those who looked upon its brilliance. The Crimson Waltz has returned! Yet Financer only smirks in chagrin)

Fin: How very "Christ" of you. The very model of subtlety, alright.

(Crimson Waltz extends his right arm, conjuring a stream of fire that culminates and turns into a smoldering staff in his hand. Properly equipped, he leans forward and dives into the city as the vocals begin. Soaring down into the cityscape he blazes through the airways, the tips of his wings setting off fire trails that obliterate any Krampustrons that are close enough. He spins and flips around, then flies back at the attacking hordes. While the machines continue their attack, Waltz flies by with staff raised, firing off fireballs that blast the attackers in seconds. He then zips off to a different part of the city, where he grabs and pulls away a Krampustron that's trying to tear into a crowded apartment. The robot flares up into molten metal and smoke, and Waltz flies off to lay waste to more Krampustrons in the surrounding area. He soars into an area with heavy air traffic, and zipping up and down he tears through whatever Krampustrons are attacking the hover cars. Seeing all this, the citizens of Coruscant cry out with rousing cheers, and emboldened, they take to the streets to defend their fair city as well! Using bauble car bombs, Christmas trees, oversized candy canes and vehicular botslaughter, the people do their part fending off the Krampustrons while Crimson Waltz goes around the city picking them off. He soon doubles back to the starting point of the madness and lends the Mega Man bosses a hand. He picks up Armored Armadillo and gives him a furious straight toss, obliterating several bots in the blink of an eye. With his fire magic he enhances the flames of Heat Man, the Mattrex and boosts the devastating properties of Napalm Man's bombs. As the tide begins to turn, the Financer steps toward the edge of his viewing spot, furrowing his brow)

Fin: Now what sort of flaming Grinch are you, breaking all my toys like that? They were my gift to all the good little blood puppets, you hum-buggering s***! (Conjures scythe) Guess I need to shove five feet of splintery coal-blackness up your meddling a**. Time to dance, my Sugarplum!

(Financer leaps from the building and makes a beeline for Waltz with scythe raised. Right as the second phase of singing starts, Waltz turns around in time to flap back from a lightning-quick slice, which cuts through the building next to them. As it slides and collapses, Financer continues to slash at Waltz, who keeps flapping back to avoid the onslaught. Waltz retaliates with a fireball, but Financer disperses it with a swipe of his scythe. It proves enough of a distraction though for Waltz to reappear behind him and fire off a stream of fire, but Financer flips up and over it, only to bring down a heavy drop of his steel. Waltz throws up some razor-edged feathers in defense and retreats to another part of the airway. Financer spins his scythe and grins wickedly at his opponent, poised for more action. However, Waltz holds his position, looking around to reassess the invasion still happening around him. Plan decided, he raises up and snaps his fingers, and instantly there's a flash of electricity that spreads out far from him. Krampustrons all around suddenly short out, only to be violently yanked and drawn into a magnetic field around Waltz. With the machines in tow, Waltz flies off to gather other stragglers)

Fin: Hey, don't run out on me! We've barely even started you p***y!

(Financer gives chase. Soaring between the buildings, Waltz keeps ahead of Financer while his magnetic field snatches up more Krampustrons. After picking up all the bots on the planet, Waltz tears open a portal in the air and slips through it with his cargo, Financer following behind. Out on the other side we see that Waltz has popped up in Coronet City on Corellia, where he proceeds to pick up the Krampustrons that are laying waste to the city there. A quick flyby later he soars through another portal and ends up tearing through the capital city of Kuat. Financer gets closer to the growing trail of fried Krampustrons as Waltz finishes up his latest sweep and moves on to a casino city on Rodia, but he stops momentarily to bust through one casino and come out carrying a row of slot machines, which he tosses at the speeding hero as he's veering up into the upper reaches of the city. Waltz brings up some Krampustrons to block the attack, then immediately turns and dives down into yet another portal, this one opening over the vast seas of Mon Calamari. Diving into the ocean, Waltz speeds through the depths, in and around the various undersea cities, rounding up more Krampustrons while occasionally breaching the surface to keep away from Financer.)

(Now with a massive cloud of machinery swirling around him, Waltz shoots out from the ocean and straight out of Mon Calamari, speeding through the cosmos with Financer right behind him. He swerves around moons, flies by stars and through asteroid belts, but Financer just closes in further. Finally the marauding Embodiment lands atop the tail end of the Krampustron mass and runs along his twitching creations, slicing through whatever ones get in the way of his run to the center. Waltz sees this happening and makes the captive robots swirl around thicker to knock off Financer, but the pursuer won't have it. Eventually, Financer gets to the center and begins slicing away toward the core and his prey. More Krampustrons are brought in but Financer tears through them without pause, until he makes an opening and strikes at Waltz' staff. As the staff splits in two, Waltz shoves forth his other hand and ignites a point-blank blast at Financer's face. This gets stopped by his scythe, but it too gets blown to pieces as he gets pushed back a good ways. He quickly rights himself, though, and launches at Waltz with a crackling fist. Waltz pushes it away with a sweep of his wing, and does the same with a fireburst for the next strike, and the next strike. Suddenly Financer slams a Krampustron at him, then five more before compacting them into a steel ball with a flurry of his fists. As he pounds away, a light shines through the gaps before a catastrophic explosion erupts from it, blinding out everything)

(When everything clears up, we see Waltz and Financer plummeting toward a small, barren moon. They hit the dusty surface hard, but Financer manages to flip himself onto his feet, whereas Waltz just ruts through the dirt with the side of his body. Financer looks upon his fallen foe with contempt, and smiles as his opponent gets back up and flares out his wings, clearing away the dust on him. Financer gets into a fighting stance and begins moving his feet)

Fin: Alrighty, hot and bothersome. Time for the old ropey-dope.

(He and Waltz run at each other and begin hand-to-hand, while destroyed Krampustrons rain down and crash around them. They punch and block and counter, their blows increasing in speed until their very motions are a blur, replete with booming noises with each of their connections. Waltz manages to land a straight right into Financer's face, sending him flying backward. But the devastator recovers and snatches a falling Krampustron, flipping and tossing it right down at Waltz. The crimson warrior slices the machine away with a wing, but then he takes a drop kick to the chest from Financer, causing a portal to open behind him as he fell back. We see him falling and tumbling down the harsh snow drifts of Hoth as a blizzard rages, and Financer jumps through the portal to follow up on his advantage. Recovering, Waltz takes hold of two feathers and creates daggers before charging at Financer. Financer goes on the defensive, ducking and dodging the vicious swipes. Pulling back to give himself some space, he raises a hand and conjures a shower of sickles to pelt Waltz along with the snow. The mage has none of that, dodging and deflecting the sickles to stab at Financer. His foe vanishes before the blade can connect, only for him to burst up from the snow and deliver a boot to the behind)

(This sends Waltz stumbling through another portal, this time in a thick humid jungle. Financer leaps in, and Waltz flings his daggers at him. The cocky menace sidesteps the blades, but they stop in midair, spin and plant themselves into the back of his shoulders. As he staggers, Waltz grabs his face in one hand, then jumps up and swings his arm to slam Financer's face into the ground. They go through a portal instead, dropping down onto the sands of Tatooine, whereupon Financer gets a forced mouthful. As the faceplant connects, the ground explodes and the two combatants are tossed skyward as a krayt dragon rises up with maw wide open. The beast snaps its jaws and swallows the two before dropping back onto the ground. It pauses and starts to contort as a battle is literally being waged in its belly. Its eyes go wide with tears before it belches out a pillar of flame, launching out the two disagreeable meals. The flame pillar sends the battlers through a portal that leads into a random asteroid field. There, Financer spins about and tosses space debris at Waltz. Waltz, in turn, blows away and dodges the rocks, while sending some of his own, only engulfed in flame. He finishes up his barrage with a massive flaming meteor that wallops Financer, but it explodes as the devastator breaks through and tackles Waltz. They soar through another portal and blast through several mountains on Kessel, then go out another portal into the stormy seas of Kamino. They crash through one of the habitation domes and tumble apart from each other, only to get back up with fists flying. During the exchange, Financer takes hold of one of the long-necked natives and whacks furiously at Waltz, but Waltz tosses a cloning tank at him in response. As Financer wipes away the cloning fluid, Waltz slides forward and delivers a devastating upward kick that connects with Fin's chin and launches him straight up through the ceiling. Waltz leaps up and back out into the rainy sky, where he and Financer fly and collide amid the lightning. Eventually they burst up back out into space, punching all the way, until Financer takes hold of Waltz and does a spinning piledriver through the void.)

(Down through another portal, Financer slams Waltz into metal flooring, then leaps back as Waltz pops back up onto his feet and straightens out his hat. Before they resume the fight, the two pause and look around, finding themselves in the Citadel of all places, with humans and unusual aliens looking at them. Commander Shepherd comes up to address Financer from behind, but gets a back-fist to the face from Financer's Renegade Trigger before the villain dashes at Waltz. Financer grapples with Waltz and spins him around before tossing him high into an arc, then leaps after him. Just as he reaches him they go through another portal, this time from the bottom of a canyon on Utapau. Waltz orients himself and grabs hold of Financer first, and they enter an aerial tumble as they go over the mouth of the canyon, through the air and down into another one. Before hitting the canyon wall another portal opens up, dumping them out atop a ziggurat on Yavin 4. They roll and tumble down the stone steps, and halfway down they disengage and clumsily run the rest of the way down, through another portal at the bottom. Out on the open fields of a cloudy Dantooine they run, with Financer keeping ahead of Waltz, up until the mage extended his wings and gave himself an extra speed boost. He swings at Financer's head but the cad dodges, twirling around to roundhouse kick him in the back and into another portal)

(Waltz flies forward but lands on his palms in time to spin himself around and skid backward on his hand and feet, amid a crowd of blob race gamblers on Umgul. As Financer reappears, he holds out his arms and four copies of him split off, which immediately run at Waltz. Two of them get up to Waltz and lay down the fists, but he holds them off just as the other two slide at his legs. He hops over them and spins to kick the ones that are standing, but the sliding pair backflip and go at him with a duo guillotine kick. Waltz brings up his wings to brush off the kicks, but as he rights himself up, the original Financer tosses a bench at him from the side, knocking him off his feet and past the observation barriers overlooking the blob race course. After a brief fall he bounces off a wayward blob and reorients himself to land on his feet, but unfortunately it's on the slanted funnel section of the track. The other Financers, meanwhile, spread out and start chucking random objects and fixtures down at him in a cascade of debris. While sliding backwards, Waltz shifts and knocks away the objects coming at him, slicing at them with his wings when they get too big. After cutting through a section of wall, two Financers fly through the gap and kick him in the chest, knocking him off his feet. The other three Financers line up at the bottom of the funnel with arms locked over their shoulders, and as one they punt at Waltz and send him spinning straight upward. Whilst he spins, the five malefactors regroup, link up into a human whip and lash upward at Waltz, smacking him down into the center of the funnel and through another portal)

(Waltz impacts into a junk heap on Raxus Prime, and the five Financers dive in to get at him. There's a burst of garbage as Waltz blows his way out, but he's quickly set upon by his doppelganger combatants, who are armed with various improvised bludgeoning tools such as rebars, prosthetic limbs, and a massive yet rather unwielding dildo. Waltz leg sweeps and punches them back, even blasting them aside with his fire, until a giant steamroller drives in and bashes him away, right through a mountain of garbage and into another portal, dumping him into the skyline of Cloud City. He flaps himself steady and fires off his spells at the attacking Financers, but some manage to get in from behind and land a few blows before being warded away. A Financer flies in swinging a cloud car, but Waltz catches one side of it and the two strain for control, until they're spinning it around wildly through the city. But then a Financer grabs onto the middle, bringing the vehicle to a jarring stop that sends Waltz spiraling out of control. He bounces off and through some buildings before smashing through the city floor, later bursting into the hollow core of the structure. He's then subjected to getting knocked and bounced around against the walls by the teleporting Financers like a flaming pinball, smashing through one of the cooling control centers before getting spiked down through the bottom of the structure and back outside)

(Waltz plummets through the endless clouds as the Financers give chase, but as the instrumentals wail back up he flares open his wings and zooms back up at super speed. With his enhanced aerial agility he goes at each Financer and whacks them around, at one point delivering a devastating right hook into the face of one of them, knocking him into another one and then another and another, forcefully merging them back together in one circular blow. The singular Financer gets knocked away but comes right back for aerial melee. Their fighting gets them close to a gas collecting platform, and Financer tosses out some sickles to get at Waltz on the other side of the structure. The blades tear through and destroy the collector but miss Waltz, who takes a pylon from the ruined structure to use as an extra long beating stick. He gets in a few smacks on Financer until it gets grabbed by him, and with a forceful twist he snaps it asunder and launches forward to deliver a punch to Waltz' gut followed by an uppercut, then ending with a teleport over him to bring a meteoric punch into the side of his head, opening a portal into the endless infernoscape of Mustafar)

(Financer keeps driving down his opponent through the sulfuric skies, but Waltz breaks away and cuts at him with his razor wings. The two separate and make some distance before firing off their own projectiles at one another. Financer spins and maneuvers around the dagger hail, while Waltz pulls off some sicknasty acrobatics to get past a storm of sickles. They soon get tired of this and launch and slam at each other, then break off and drop into into the mouth of a huge active volcano. As they descend further into the molten maw, both of them charge their hands with intense energy, then fire off barrages of fire and darkness at each other. Most of their shots are nullified, but some manage to hit one another, and a good many of them veer off and collide with the interior of the volcano and continue doing so during their unrelenting attack. After several seconds lava begins filling the air from the numerous impacts, and suddenly the volcano itself buckles and explodes tremendously into blazing annihilation. The two warriors are thrown back into separate portals, flinging them across opposite ends of the galaxy over multiple planets and celestial formations. They eventually flop hard to a stop, Financer in the wastelands of Mandalore and Waltz onboard Jawa Home. They recover quickly, then sprint forward and run through many portals before appearing opposite each other over the center of the galaxy, fists raised and pulled back)

(Everything slows as the vocals return, and when the instruments resume the tattered warriors collide and blast their way across the inner rim, punching all the way. Through vast distances they soar their way back to Coruscant, coming in hot through the atmosphere and smashing through several buildings before tearing up a long stretch of walkway. Even before the dust clears they're back on their feet slugging it out, but then Waltz psyches himself up and goes at triple speed, delivering insanely fast blows while quick-stepping all around the dazed Financer. Pulling back, Waltz delivers a charged fire punch at Financer that sends him skyward, but before he makes it past the skyline, Waltz teleports up to him and snaps some magical wards onto his hands and feet. Waltz reappears a short distance away and waves an arm, conjuring up a transparent red sphere of arcane runes to surround Financer. Financer tries to break out, but finds he can't move any of his limbs save for his head. He looks upon the hard stare of Waltz, and grimaces mockingly)

Fin: Going to end it like this, huh? Don't know why you couldn't have done this sooner.

(The sphere rises slowly into the sky as the song steadily concludes. As it rises past the highest building and takes position beneath the moon, the inside grows brighter and hotter, eventually causing Financer to sizzle a little. He chuckles, however, forcing himself to talk calmly despite the intense burning he felt all over)

Fin: It was fun while it lasted, but seems it's time to bid my farewells. So to everybody I say: A Merry Christmas to all, and to all, a FUCK YOU!

(Waltz snaps his fingers, and the sphere collapses and goes off into a miniature super nova-like explosion of red and yellow that brightens up the sky with a sunset-like brilliance, spreading out as the song wraps up, ending as a final fire burst goes off at the epicenter for good measure. When all goes silent and the remnants of the blast dissipate, returning color to normal, Waltz simply flutters and gazes at what had been his relentless foe. But then a speck of light rises from his shoulder, followed by another, then several more as his energy starts to evaporate, reducing him to a glowing ball of red. The Jedi, who had been watching this conclusion from a relatively close distance with some of the other planet occupants, look to each other)

Jo: Come on, let's get over there!

(They rush forward. The red ball descends onto a section of ruined walkway, and upon making contact it disperses into nothingness, leaving a lone pint-sized Jawa. Squishy wobbles a moment but catches himself, bringing a hand up to the side of his head)

Squishy: Whoa… Forgot how much of a trip that was…

(As he rubs the disorientation away, there's a clatter as a gilded box fell out from the bottom of his robes. He stops his ministrations and looks down)

Squishy: Huh? What's this? (Bends down and picks up box) Hah, it's been with me the whole time? Would explain what's been poking me in the back.

Sylvia: SQUISHY!

(He lowers the box and looks forward to see his friends and beloved hurrying over to him)

Squishy: Oh, hey guy—

(Sylvia snatches him up in her claws before he can finish that sentence)

Sylvia: WherehaveyoubeenIvebeensoworriedwhatsthematterwithyoutakinghimonalonelikethatwithoutus—

Squishy: (Strained) Sylvy, stop, you're crushing me...

Will: Sylvia, give him some breathing room, will ya?

(She does so, putting him back on the ground)

Sylvia: What had happened to you, Squishy?

Anna: Yeah, you were gone for about a week. No one could find you anywhere!

Squishy: I'm sorry about that. I got myself conked out and forgot who I was, and ended up wandering in the undercity for all that time.

Cope: Wandering the undercity with amnesia, and you're still alive?

Squishy: I wasn't alone. Some kids looked after me. Let me do roguish stuff with them. Should repay them at some point...

Jo: Huh… Seems you lucked out as usual, Squish. Thoughtful of you to show up when s*** started hitting the fan all over the place. Maybe could have done it sooner, but the help was very much appreciated.

Squishy: Yeah… One of those delayed remembrance sort of deals. Say, why was the Financer back all of a sudden?

Sara: Contractor let him out as part of some stupid wager or something, or so he says.

Squishy: Really?

Cope: We're seriously gonna have a talk with him once things get sorted out here, I'll tell you that much.

Anna: Quick question, Squish: I thought you got rid of those Crimson Waltz powers way back when the Financer was last here?

Will: Yeah, when you gave us all a part of him or something like that.

Squishy: I suppose I still have some residual powers left over. Like that time I fought Alexander and he showed up to help.

Sylvia: When was that, exactly? I don't recall seeing that happen.

Squishy: Oh right, I never really explained what happened that time…

Sara: Hey, whatchu got there?

(She points to the box, which Squishy holds up for the rest to get a good look at)

Squishy: Oh, heheh. This was the thing I went out to get when I did my bakery run. Ummm… it was supposed to be a surprise, but… (Holds it up to Sylvia, who takes it curiously) Merry Early Christmas, honey. Thought I'd buy you something in secret. You don't have to open it now, if you don't want to.

Sara: Awwwww.

Anna: Yeah, real "awww". (Eyes Cope)

Cope: Criminy…

(Sylvia looks over the shiny packaging, then tentatively she brings up her claws and opens the top. Her mouth opens in a silent gasp at seeing the contents, which she takes out for all to see. The necklace is unscuffed and miraculously intact, glimmering in the faint street lights from nearby)

Will: Traditional gift, I see. Nice one.

Sara: Will, shh!

Sylvia: It's beautiful… (Blushes) Thank you, Squishy.

Squishy: Sorry again for going AWOL and making you worry. I hadn't wanted to, I swear.

Sylvia: ...As long as you came back in one piece, then that's all I really care about.

Squishy: Sylvia… (His eyes start to well up with tears) Now I'm ashamed for not missing you.

Sylvia: Why should you be? I said it was alright, silly. (She sniffs to fight back her own tears. Jo, meanwhile, brings a hand to his mouth as he coughs violently)

Cope: You okay, Jo?

Jo: Yeah, just… my heart acting up. And also my pancreas. (Coughs some more)

Anna: Only got yourself to blame for missing out, Jo.

(Something falls and dissolves on Sara's nose)

Sara: Huh? Something wet just landed on my nose.

Will: Probably a busted water pipe somewhere.

Sara: (Looks up) No, look up there!

(The Jedi do, and their mouths open in amazement at the sight filling the air around them: white flakes, slowly drifting down from newly formed clouds high above. Cope holds out a hand, catching a few of them which immediately melt away)

Cope: Is… Is that snow? Here?

Anna: (Sighs) Well, this night's been weird and hectic enough, so why the h*** not?

Jo: Amen to that.

Sara: Guess your alter ego left us a neat parting gift, Squishy.

Squishy: Heheh, seems that way.

(They look at the meteorological marvel, as do most of the city. Wonder fills the eyes of the weary city-dwellers at seeing this strange but marvelous sight. The military stand around speechless, with Chris just looking up and grinning knowingly with arms folded. Duff and his crew more or less do the same, though Launch waves his tentacles around a bit too exuberantly. Back at the grandstand, the governor finally recovers from his earlier blow, with Ackbar helping him to his feet)

Ackbar: Are you alright, governor?

Gov: Ugghh, feels like half my mouth has been knocked loose. What happened to Francis?

Ackbar: It wasn't Francis, sir. Lather was actually the Financer.

Gov: WHAT!? OH NOT AGAIN! But wait, we're still alive… aren't we?

Ackbar: Yes we are. Almost a quarter of the planet is in shambles, but Squishy took care of things before it could get worse. There were minimal casualties, from what's been reported.

Gov: Did you say Squishy? What about the other Jedi?

Ackbar: They helped combat the robots, but Squishy underwent a bizarre transformation to dispatch the Financer. Um, I believe he went "anime" as the young crowd would put it.

Gov: (Looks around) Why is it snowing?

Ackbar: I don't know. It just began only a few minutes ago.

Gov: And everyone's just standing around looking at it. There's no yelling or rioting— (Gasps) This is perfect! Alright, Guv, now's your chance for some preemptive damage control. (Looks and fumbles around for the mic, which he finds against an unconscious politician's face. Picking it up, he taps it a few times before speaking) A-Attention everyone! That was a nasty bit of business there, but as you can see, the crisis has been averted. No doubt many of you are a bit disoriented or hurt or experienced loss of property by all this, but rest assured, your sympathetic government will see to it that all damages will be fixed as best as possible, in very quick order! In the meantime, although there's no longer a parade, I encourage you to enjoy this lovely weather, a rarity to behold and fully appreciate. And, uh, to mark this very special phenomenon to our dear planet, in lieu of our original celebration plans, I'll see to it that there will be specially organized snow-based festivities set up for the coming days. If it persists, that is. But for now, take in this white majesty, let your hearts be at ease, and a Happy Festivale from the bottom of my heart, and your Republic government at large. (Mic drop) Phew. You still got it, old top.

(Walks off the stage with a smile, followed by Ackbar. Turning back to the Jedi, our heroes keep marveling at the fluffy wonder coming down, getting thicker with each passing second, promising a very white winter)

Squishy: It just occurred to me…

Sylvia: Hm?

Squishy: In all these years, we never did have a white Christmas any time we celebrated it here on Coruscant.

Sylvia: That goes without saying, but yes, you'd be right.

Squishy: (Gasps, then looks to others with wide eyes) Don't you know what this means?

Cope: Oh no. No no no no, not that look!

Squishy: It means I can finally, (Close up) build, (Close up) A, (Close up) SNOWMAN!

Cope: Oh God****it, Squishy!

Squishy: (Runs off gleefully and sings) Come on let's go and plaaaaaay! It doesn't have to be a snow-maaaaan!

Cope: You're not even singing it right!

Anna: Just let him have his fun, Alex.

Sylvia: It hasn't even had time to build up yet!

Squishy: Come, darling: It's a Winter Wonderland! (Resumes his awkward singing)

Sylvia: (Giggles) Wait up, Squishy! (Runs after him, with her gift in hand)

Sara: Come on, Will!

Will: Sure. (They run off)

Anna: Us too, Alex.

Cope: Do I really?

Jo: (Clasps a hand on Cope's shoulder) Yes you do.

(The remaining three run sorta-willingly after the others, as we turn back up into the cloudy, snowy, moonlit sky while an extended Christmas version of the song "Friend" by IDOLING! plays. What follows next is an extended montage/epilogue of sorts, the credits popping up as we see the snow continuing to fall throughout the night and into the next day, where the citizens take to the walkways and partake in activities like sledding and snowball fights and snowman building, as the destruction from Financer's attack gets repaired. Some of Duff's men, like Ice Man and Chill Penguin, are hosting snow-themed events around the city. At the Grand Aria Megaplex, the jewelry store owner looks around happily outside his damaged store front while rubble is being taken away, caressing the lit flamethrower by his knee and looking around for any comers. Switching over to the interior of a private spaceport, Squishy and Sylvia await the arrival of their closest kin, starting with Sally, who waves at them and runs up to give a big hug to the both of them. Shortly after, we see Stanley come up to them with his shapeshifting dragon paramour Sentina, in her elfin form)

Squishy: Stanley, son! You actually came!

Stan: Yeah I did, thanks to some arm-twisting from sis.

Sylvia: Did you really threaten him, Sally?

Sally: No, Mom: I have people do that for me. But it wasn't anything major, right Stan? (Wink)

Stan: Yeah, sure.

Squishy: Good to see you as well, Sentina. Looking as peachy as ever.

Sentina: Hmhm, thank you, Father. It has been too long.

Squishy: That it has! But hey, let's show you around for some Coruscantian hospitality. We just so happen to be experiencing snow this year!

Sentina: I've noticed. Don't suppose you've made a few snowmen already.

Squishy: (Eyes light up) You wouldn't believe!

Stan: (Sighs) Oh boy. You got him into one of his moods, sweetums.

(Later on, Sylvia's brother Steezy comes through the arrival gates)

Sylvia: It's wonderful you could make it! But is Jawa Home going to be fine without you?

Steezy: Yeah, I put my best buds at the helm. It'll be smooth sailing while I'm away. So how's it been, Squishy?

Squishy: Great! Just one arrival to go, but let's hang for a bit until then.

Steezy: Oh right, Dad's coming.

(A little while later, Squishy, Sylvia, and the rest of the family await the final guest, with Squishy being extra fidgety)

Sylvia: I don't know why you're so anxious. He's always had the utmost respect for you, ever since you first left Lwhekk all those years ago.

Squishy: I know but, he just… strikes such an intimidating figure, you know.

Sylvia: You'll do fine.

Stan: Yeah, buck up, Dad.

(They stop talking as someone approaches from the gate. A red Ssi-Ruu of a tall, imposing stature, with hardened scales covered in long-aged scars and a firm, level gaze and snout. Upon reaching the welcoming party, he speaks to them in his native tweets and whistles)

General: (Ssi-Ruuvi) It has been some time since I've seen you, my daughter.

Sylvia: (Ssi-Ruuvi) That it has, father. It's so good that you came for the holidays.

General: (Nods, then looking to Steezy while still speaking Ssi-Ruuvi) The same to you, my son. Have you been staying out of trouble?

Steezy: (Ssi-Ruuvi) I have, Dad. Are things still good back home?

General: (Ssi-Ruuvi) Yes they are. (Turns his firm gaze down to Squishy, who nervously looks back to say something)

Squishy: (Stilted Ssi-Ruuvi) Good to see you, General. All is well here, as well. I hope you'll find our accommodations satis—

(A heavy claw is put on his head, making him stiffen and move his eyes right up at that level stare, which instantly softens as that sharp mouth forms a smile)

General: (Basic) It's good to see you, Squishy. Practicing Ssi-Ruuvi without a translator? Most impressive.

Squishy: Oh, uh, yeah, it is, heh. I… didn't know you learned Basic.

Sylvia: Hm hm. Just a little surprise we organized between ourselves.

General: And there's no need to be nervous around me. We've been family for over a decade, remember?

Squishy: Riiight! Right, right…

General: And those must be the little ones.

Stan: (Waves) Hey, grandpa! (Sally also waves)

General: (Waves back, then to Squishy) Although it seems one is missing.

Sylvia: Yes, Richter has gone out to find himself from what we understand.

Squishy: Soul-searching, as I'd call it.

General: Ah yes, I'm familiar with those youthful uncertainties. Which is rather fortunate I was chosen to help address them.

(Stan and Sally make surprised faces as Sylvia and Squishy and Steezy see the general wave over... Rick?! Yes, it's the third Jaa-Ruuk child walking modestly toward them! Still wearing his robes, except they've been cut and altered so his upper right torso and shins are exposed, and most surprising of all is the lack of hood to cover his scaly brown head or the neat blonde knot of hair tied up above his neck. I mean holy crap, Rick without his hood, just flaunting his natural looks in such a way? The parents are understandably astounded speechless by this as well as seeing their missing son after so very long, but they pull it together when he comes before them and speaks)

Steezy: Holy crap.

Rick: Hey Mom, hey Dad, Steezy. It's uh, it's been a while.

Squishy: Son... It, it really has. I mean, wow, you look really different. Not bad different, it's actually a neat look. (This actually makes his son blush)

Steezy: I'm digging what you did with the hair.

Sylvia: Where have you been, Rick? You never said where you were going.

Rick: I traveled around for a bit, then decided to spend time with grandpa. Get back in touch with my roots, be more comfortable with my appearance, learn some things.

General: I made sure he learned all there is to know of his Ssi-Ruuvi heritage, and he was very helpful in assiting me with daily affairs. When you offered me to come visit, I convinced him to accompany me. My personal surprise gift.

Rick: Sorry I never contacted any of you. I just didn't feel like talking with anyone while I figured things out.

Squishy: T-That's fine. You're here and fine and... yowsas.

Sylvia: (Hugs her son) I'm so happy to see you again.

Rick: (Hugs back) Same here, Mom.

Sally: Oh my god, Rick! What is with that look of yours?!

Stan: Yo get over here and talk to the rest of us!

General: I believe we've kept the rest of the family waiting long enough.

(Sylvia has a chuckle, and the five of them rejoin the Jaa-Ruuk twins and head back out into the city. More time passes, and it's the night of Christmas Eve, where the Jedi are celebrating it in their own ways. Will and Sara, and Cope and Anna are having their secluded dinners, and Jo is partying it up at his pad with several supermodels, including the two Almanian birds from the week prior. Squishy is having a rousing dinner with his family, telling everyone the story of how he got the gold necklace for Sylvia, which she's wearing that evening. Meanwhile, in a gutted part of the city underbelly, a group of rogues sit huddled around a barrel drum of fire in the remnants of their hideout)

Merkle: It's way too breezy in here, boss.

Pipley: Well me snorkely love, if ye had considered throwing up a tarp or some furs, we wouldn't be in this predicament now, wont you agree?

Scuzz: Don't see why we still need to stay around here. This place is a complete wreck, and most of the goods got blown away the other night.

Pipley: Aye, but it serves as a fair temporary hidey hole for our sorry lot.

Merkle: Would've been helpful if Stubby came back to show his gratitude for looking after his butt.

Pipley: Just shows you can't be trustin' them Republic sorts, like I always says. But fret me not, boyos. Come tomorrow, we trek for greener fungi and a rancid fresh start. For now, it's all for huddlin' and restin' this most blessed night o' the year.

Mickey: Slurble dee murr…

Pipley: Still don't know what ye be mutterin', ye bleedin' b****rd. But a Merry Christmas to ye too.

(There's some thumps nearby that catch their attention)

Tubbens: What was that?

Pipley: Intrusion, mayhap?

(They tear themselves from their meager coverings and go out, where they chance upon several wrapped-up boxes)

Merkle: Hey, who's dropping presents?

(They go over and open them up, rummaging through their contents)

Scuzz: Looks like care packages. Some rations, candy, a pair of… pants? (Holds out a pair of long johns. The Twins give their own pairs a stretch as well)

Tim1: Very nice material, though.

Tim2: Breathable, feels like.

Tubbens: There's also some pamphlets tucked away to the side, and— (Cries) There's a hand blaster at the bottom!

Merkle: (Holding up weapon in his box) Whoa, and they're real, too. Military grade, even.

Tubbens: W-Who would go putting live weapons in a care package here in the city?!

Scuzz: (Looks at pamphlet, which turns out to be for military recruitment) The military, apparently. But at least we can score some credits with the local arms dealers. That should help things out.

(Pipley, however, is reading through the pamphlet intently, as a gleam comes to his eye)

Pipley: Nah… I'm feeling me a touch patriotic. (To others) Roight, I do see me a new outlook for our sorry lot. A little stability is what I'm thinkin' up, and some direction to boot. Given that the underbelly is no longer as guaranteed a safe haven as we want it to be, I say we make for the top and give some nasty buggers what for in the name of the Republic. Cozy living quarters and plenty food not too bad a deal just to go waving guns at some blokes. And military commands respect, so no hob-nobbin' rich sods can push us arounds any more. See how hoi 'nd mighty they stand when they relyin' on us to protect their stuffy tushes. Or maybe we could turn mercenary for the right price. Or maybes both, who's to say?

Tubbens: But-but, aren't we too young to be enlisting?

Pipley: That we are, you astute blubberous whip you. Which is why we're spendin' the next few years trainin' with these kind new gifts of ours. Practice defendin' ya fellow man by cleaning up the dregs and wot not, learn to be proper soldiers instead of raggity boys. We kin still loot and plunder a time, but enjoy it while ye can. These are but our years of innocence, and things won't be so easy-goin' for long. (Looking up) But methinks the payoff and change of scenery will be well worth it…

(Up in the sky, we see a large red hover sleigh flying over the city with a large sack of presents in the back. Chris, dressed in a Santa suit, is holding the reigns of the front engine, while Jennings in an elf outfit is tossing out presents to the city below)

Chris: Ah yes, bolstering up our reserves all while spreading goodwill. Straight-up Chris Cringle is what I am!

Jennings: Sarge, my arms are gettin' tired from all the tossin'.

Chris: We've barely covered a third of the planet, Private. Reach down deep for that inner strength and help spread cheer to those in need of it. No time to be selfish; it's the one night to think about others for once!

Jennings: But I'm not a Private, Sarge! I'm a Chief Master Se—

Chris: Not for this night, elf! HOOOO Ho Ho Ho! Merrrrrrrrry Christmaaaaaaas!

(So Chris and his sleigh sally forth into the night, delivering dangerous gifts to all. The scene shifts to a few days later, where Squishy and Sylvia bid farewell to their children and the General, and then we switch to them making a space flight to Tatooine. That evening, we see the couple having a simple dinner inside a Sandcrawler with Squishy's parents)

Mother: (Jawaese) Isn't this such a lovely dinner? All cozy and relatively quiet?

Father: (Jawaese) Yeah it's fine enough. Nothing to get excited over, though. So then, son, still being a big shot out there at the capital?

Squishy: (Jawaese) Yeah, about that: there was this crisis, but we took care of it. It's also snowing there. First time it's ever happened, even.

Father: (Jawaese) Bah! Why talk of something as wasteful as snow? Falls down from the sky but it's too cold to be of any use to anyone.

Mother: (Jawaese) Now really, dear. A change of weather every now and then isn't so bad.

Father: (Jawaese) Is that so? You remember the last time the weather changed? Rained a whole week all over the planet, and messed up every Sandcrawler in the process! Unimaginable loss of salvaging and work time, but so what? At least everyone got cooled down.

Squishy: (Jawaese) Come on, Dad.

Father: (Jawaese) Don't "come on" with me, boy. You wanted us to sit down and eat and talk, well this is me talking. Maybe if you came by and worked here for a while you'd remember that.

Squishy: Sure...

Sylvia: (Using translator) This food is really good, ma'am.

Mother: (Jawaese) Why thank you, dear.

Father: (Jawaese) At least your wife knows when to show gratitude.

Mother: (Jawaese) Alright that's enough out of you! If you're going to stay a grouch for the rest of the evening, you can go eat up in the cockpit so the rest of us can have ourselves a good time.

Father: (Jawaese, grumbles)...Sure thing, wife. (Eats while grumbling to himself)

Sylvia: (Whisper to Squishy) Whipped, huh?

Squishy: Heh heh, justs shows to never push Mom.

(They resume their meal in peace. Some days later, on Coruscant, we turn to Squishy and Sylvia's apartment, which is surrounded by a massive army of miniature snowmen. A New Year's party is underway inside, with all their friends having themselves a good time on some sweet, heavy nog. Out on the balcony, everyone looks up into the snow-laden sky to marvel at the fireworks bursting overhead, hailing the new year. Sylvia and Squishy share a tender kiss, as do the other couples. To compensate, Jo grabs the nearest thing in a dress and tries to snog, and gets slapped in the face and elbowed in the gut for his trouble. Thus everyone enjoyed the finale to the week of celebrations, and our holiday forray finally comes to a close)

---

(...Though not yet. We cut to a sparsely-furnished living room, where Contractor, in a white shirt and white shorts, snorts himself awake from his sprawled position on the couch. Immediately he cringes and brings a hand to his forehead)

Cont: Oh god, my head… Oh man, last time I drink hard eggnog while marathoning Silent Hill on DDR.

(Show TV displaying aforementioned game and song, and the askewed dance pad on the carton-laden carpet. Suddenly, there's a ring of the doorbell)

Cont: Whuh? Who could that be? (He gets up and stumbles to the door) Ah freak, my legs. Too sore…

(Gets to the door and opens it, then stiffens up at seeing the Jedi standing right outside)

Cont: Whoa! H-Hey there, guys. What are you doing here?

Squishy: Hi, Contractor. We're here because we needed your help in carrying out a wager we made.

(Contractor's face scrunches up with a frown as quickly as the pit of his stomach fell out)

Cont: A, a wager, you say?

Anna: Yeah: Which of us can knock the most teeth outta your head.

(They barge into the apartment)

Cont: Hey-hey-hey, now! I'd be happy to talk this out—

Cope: Not happening!

Sylvia: Hold him down, Will!

(They bum rush and tackle Contractor to the ground, slamming the door shut as he bemoans his violent fate with a long-winded "Noooo". Thus, we reach our conclusion… for real this time)

MERRY CHRISTMAS,

ONE AND ALL!

^O^