Simon's sleigh landed roughly, bumping over the snow and kicking up a massive cloud. Both himself, Cad and Veronica were tossed around in their seats. When the little vehicle finally managed to properly stop, Simon sat up with a groan, holding his head. He peered over the door of his sleigh with his ears pinned. By all calculations, this should be the North Pole—however, all that he could see was a flat, white landscape topped only with a dark gray fog.
"There, boss!" exclaimed Cad suddenly. Simon whipped around to see where he was pointing. His eyes got big.
On that side of the horizon stood a house—it was hard to see from the distance, but it almost seemed like a big log cabin, perhaps a stable. A soft, warm light glowed like a halo around it.
"There!" Simon exclaimed louder, trampling over Veronica to point at his finding. He kicked open the door to the sleigh and flew out, bundling his coat tighter around him. "Come on, you two! That must be Santa's workshop."
Cad and Veronica stepped out of the sleigh, and the three made their way towards the workshop. As they got closer, they could make out three forms moving about, each wearing silly striped clothes with jingle bell hats and pointed shoes. Simon twitched his whiskers and raised a slow hand, pointing at the elves with a bony finger. Cad needed no further command and rushed at one.
The little elf squeaked with surprise as it was beaten. The other two turned to see what was the matter, but Cad was upon them faster. As Cad beat up the elves, Simon approached the door. Though he reached one hand into his coat to find his lock-picking tools, when he laid his hand on the knob, he twisted it easily open.
Simon padded silently into the workshop, tossing a glance around. It seemed to be a hallway, and though the lights were dark, Simon couldn't see any movement. He slunk inside, curling a finger for Cad and Veronica to follow. They dragged in the bodies of the unconscious elves while Simon found a closet hidden in the hallway.
Within a few moments, Simon, Cad and Veronica found themselves wearing the clothes of the elves.
"Now," Simon said as his assistants picked at their new, slightly-too-small, outfits, "We shall make ourselves useful around the factory. And when the time is right, we'll—"
"HEY!"
Simon's planning was cut off. The three of them turned to look down the hall. Stomping rudely up toward them was another elf, whose face was almost as red as his clothing.
The elf snarled at the three of them. "Are you three finished stringing up those lights out there?!" he demanded.
"Uhh… yes!" Simon replied, faking a grin. Cad kicked the closet door shut.
The elf rose up to his toes, getting into Simon's face while squinting at him. Simon tried to remain confident, but the discomfort on his face was obvious. Finally, the elf got back to his feet and raised a finger to his mouth.
"Now hold on, now—I've never seen you elves before," he grabbed Simon's hand roughly in his little claw and started to drag him away, "Whoever you are, I'm takin' you to see the boss."
Simon stumbled after him as he was dragged, but not wanting to rouse suspicion, allowed it to happen; though he did turn back to his partners with wild eyes. Cad and Veronica blinked at eachother before rushing after him.
Simon caught sight of everything as the elf shoved him past: the great halls of the workshop were made of warm cherry woods, lit with warm light, and were decorated with all the holly-bauble nonsense that the city had mimicked. Across a balcony that overlooked the actual toy-workshop itself, elves milled about with wooden instruments and cozied up against a grand fireplace, muttering songs to eachother—Simon's eyes got big as he took it all in.
Finally, he was dragged into what seemed to be an office. It was decorated with the appropriate amount of trees and wreaths and rugs and tinsel, but at the same time, had the desk and machinery of a corporate workspace. Unlike the rest of the workshop, which was decorated in equal levels of red, green, gold, white and blue, nearly everything here was pink.
A figure sat behind the desk, its back turned to Simon as it gazed out a large window. The elf holding Simon's hand finally released its grip, so the crook dared to peek around the figure. Outside, a blizzard whipped furiously, and if Simon strained his ears enough, he could hear the wind shaking the window frame.
"Boss," said the elf that had dragged Simon quite some distance, "I found these three characters in the back of the shop, stringing up the lights."
The figure in the chair—a great beast easily thrice the size that Simon was—started to turn to face them. Despite himself, Simon found that he was shivering in fear. He blinked up at the great figure to find… the gentle face of a woman.
The woman rose from her office chair, once again seeming to expand in size. Simon had to crane his neck nearly straight up to look at her. Despite the pink of her office, she was clad in a long blue dress embroidered with snowflakes, and wore a rich lace shawl around her shoulders.
She neared the newcomers just as gently, removing her hands from a fur muff to wave for her elf to be at ease. She sized up Simon first, curling down to meet him like a ghost. Simon got a good look at her face, then—her skin was wrinkled and warm, with rosy cheeks and rosy lips that curled into a thin smile. Her hair was white and done up in a bun lined with holly.
She did not take the same effort to examine Cad and Veronica, instead standing up as her grin got even wider.
"I am Mrs. Eartha Claus," she finally introduced, though Simon could barely hear her over the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. Mrs. Claus extended her hand gently and continued, "Who might you be? Certainly not one of my elves."
Simon blinked. Then he coughed and cleared his throat, taking a step back to gesture to his partners. "Err—um—yes! We are… uh…"
"Exchange students!" Cad chipped in.
"From the South Pole," Veronica added, pointing downward.
All three of them gathered their hands behind their backs and tried to beam their most honest beams. Mrs. Claus turned her head at the idea, still staring down at the intruders as if she could see through them. Then, she snapped her fingers.
"Of course," she said casually, "You must have slipped through in the hustle and bustle." Mrs. Claus turned back to her desk briefly to grab a sheet of paper, not even having to take a step to reach it. She ran her hand down the sheet while muttering, "Now, let's see what trouble I can get you all into. Hmm… hmm… ah, yes."
She took a smooth step around the group, pointing at Cad as she did so. The big dog started, pointing to his own chest as she did.
"I will set you, young man, to work in our stables," Mrs. Claus commanded. Next, she moved to address Veronica. "You, madam, I will place in our bakery. And, hmm, you…"
Mrs. Claus curled down to Simon again. He nearly jumped out of his skin as the big creature took his bony hands in her own. She stared down at them and continued to hum, then finally glanced up to Simon's eyes. Simon nearly felt his cold, withered soul be pulled out of his body by the sapphires in her skull. He ground his teeth together.
"I will place you on the assembly line," Mrs. Claus said coolly, releasing Simon and swiftly waving them away. "My dear Buddy here will take you where you need to go, if he doesn't mind terribly."
The red elf, whose complexion had softened slightly after his stomp around the workshop, saluted his superior. "Of course not, madam!" he exclaimed.
Mrs. Claus chuckled to herself, and leaned down to tap a finger against Buddy's pointed nose. A bit of sparkle—or snowflakes, perhaps—dazzled the area, and a dark red blush coated his cheeks. The elf returned to ease, then stomped back to Mrs. Claus's office door. He turned toward the newcomers and waved for them to follow.
"Come, now, the lot of you!" he commanded.
Simon hesitated. Every jitter of fear convulsed his body in a way he hadn't felt since he'd first met Underdog—
Nevermind. Underdog would never defeat him this time.
He sucked in a deep breath, and finally shoved through Cad and Veronica to follow the elf back across the workshop. Cad and Veronica glanced at eachother, but had no choice but to follow.
Rocket strode up to a veritable mansion, much longer and taller than any other that the village had to offer. It resembled a castle much more than a mere cottage. The yard was paved with smooth stepping stones, and the gardens of evergreen bushes and Christmas candies were perfectly trimmed. A handful of gardener elves seemed to keep it that way, but Underdog could make out a few rabbit ears sticking up through the foliage.
Finally, Rocket brought them to a massive door. A wreath sat on its window, tied with a big red bow. However, Rocket paid no attention. She shoved her shoulder against the wooden door until it squealed open. Underdog could feel himself getting starry-eyed again, and the sound of Polly's wagging tail did not help.
The entryway was ginormous—its walls and floors were made of warm and dark woods, and it was decorated with such an absurd amount of Christmas décor that a mortal could merely dream of. A huge tree sat in one corner, trimmed with lights, with cranberries, with popcorn, with lights, with ornaments, with angels. The back wall boasted a ginormous fireplace, covered in several stockings and roasting a million chestnuts. The other corner presented a curved staircase; a velvet green rug rolled down it, and its rails were woven with garland and lights. Still more decorations littered the place, but Underdog could no longer take stock of them.
Rocket took a step forward. She began to do a little jig of quick steps and twirls, and sparkles of magic dazzled out from the bell on her hat. When she finished, the crackling of the fireplace was drowned out with a resounding:
"HO-HO-HO!"
When what to Underdog's wondering eyes did appear, stepping out from behind the tree was a jolly-looking fellow, clad in red from head to toe, with the locks of a white beard curling down his stomach. He stepped down the stairs so lively and quick, that Underdog knew in a moment it must be Saint Nick. Polly squeezed his arm.
Underdog looked up at the man as he got closer. For years he had pictured what the jolly old elf might have looked like and now, right in front of him, he was seeing it. His face was a warm cream with rosy cheeks and a wreath rested atop his head. A huge smile was drawn across his face, his whiskers tangled around it in the same way Underdog remembered his father's looking. Now, he found he was the one squeezing Polly.
Santa Claus extended two mittened hands, his smile getting so wide that his twinkling eyes closed and his crow's-feet wrinkled up. "Welcome to my workshop!" he said with a voice so deep and warm it felt, to Underdog, like being curled up between his parents under their scratchy old blanket.
"Boss," Rocket piped up, "They—"
"Ho-ho-hold on," Santa interrupted her. As if he was a ghost, he leaned down to face Underdog in a swift motion. The hero felt Polly stiffen up beside him. Then, Santa extended his hand out, and he felt his grip on Polly rip away as she rushed back.
Underdog gulped as Santa's hand approached him, but couldn't tear his eyes away from his face. Finally, after what felt like much too long of a moment, the wool of Santa's glove pressed gently up on Underdog's chin. Underdog sucked in a breath through his nose that sounded like a wheeze.
Santa hummed, just as warm and comforting as the mitten that he held Underdog's head in. "Just as I suspected," he said, then raised his hand to his mouth and called out, "ANGEL?"
Underdog nearly fell over himself in surprise as Santa removed his hand. With a little yip, Polly rushed back over to his side and caught him before he could fall. Underdog started to look up to thank her, but before he could see her face, he spotted another figure making its way down the stairs. Polly followed his gaze and let out a little gasp.
Coming down the stairs, now, was a person just as big as Santa Claus was. She wore a red fur dress, with a large white collar that resembled Santa's own beard. The hair atop her head was white, as well, and she carried her hands in a muff. When she finally met Santa, he greeted her with a kiss on the cheek.
"Yes, dear? What is it?" Mrs. Claus asked her husband before she saw the two dogs at her foot. "More students from the South Pole?"
Santa laughed his jolly laugh and replied, "No! Oh, well, I don't know—I haven't asked them." He put his hands on his hips and smiled down at Underdog and Polly. "Are you students from the South Pole?"
Underdog let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. He realized, then, that between his shock and Polly's, the two of them had become a bit tangled within eachother's limbs. Underdog wiggled out of Polly's gasp, dusted a snowflake off the ''U' on his sweater, and tried to gain his lip back.
"No—" he stuttered, casting a glance at Polly for support. Unfortunately, she merely shrugged at him. Underdog swallowed back a sigh and stood up straight, trying his best to meet the eyes of the… people?… in front of him. "I am Underdog, and this is my friend, Polly. We've come to chase some crooks that intend to ruin your jolly."
Both of the Clauses jumped slightly at this information, Santa moreso than his wife. The little Rocket suddenly popped up on Santa's shoulder, clinging to him like a flying squirrel.
"I could'a told you all that," she grumbled, resting her head on her hand.
Santa rubbed his mitten against his chin to think. As he did, Mrs. Claus seemed to observe Underdog the same way her husband had moments ago. Self-consciously, Underdog licked the wetness off his upper lip.
"My, you shan't be worrying about that!" she exclaimed suddenly, "The poor fellow has caught cold!"
"That's what I called you down for!" Santa explained, "But you asked me if they were from the South Pole."
Mrs. Claus smiled despite herself. "And Rocket would've told us everything if you hadn't called me down."
Still clinging to Santa's shoulder, Rocket rolled her eyes.
"No matter," Santa said, swiping the air with his glove as if he was brushing off the thought. "Neither of you are from the North Pole, and you shouldn't last much longer if we don't remedy that."
Mrs. Claus patted her husband on the shoulder, scratching the top of Rocket's head as she went. "I shall fetch you both drinks."
Santa nodded and moved to turn away. "If you would be so kind as to follow me, we will get you warmed in just a moment!" He snapped his fingers as he spoke, the impact letting out a shower of sparkles.
Underdog turned to look up at Polly. This was really going… according to no plan he could have made. His hands had wound up on Polly's arm again, and he squeezed her a little in an attempt to gauge her opinion.
Polly gave him one. Her smile got a little bigger, extending just enough that one of her fangs could poke out. "Well, you heard him!" she giggled, "You can't disobey Santa, Underdog, or he'll put you on the naughty list."
Still in front of them, Santa laughed his boisterous laugh. The suddenness of it stung Underdog's ear-drums. He smiled nervously back at Polly, and then up at Santa.
"A-alright," he answered, his voice so meek it was almost Shoeshine's. "Th-thank you, sir."
Santa's eye twinkled as his grin got a little wider. "You need not thank me. What kind of host would I be if I let you two turn into pupsicles?" He laughed again, to himself, as he led the way up the stairs.
Polly and Underdog were close behind him. Underdog tried to keep his eyes peeled for any sign of Simon, but the sheer amount of décor was beginning to make his head spin. He let go of Polly's hands before the woolen texture of her fur could overwhelm him further.
As he did, Polly elbowed him. She lifted a hand to one side of her mouth and whispered, "I always knew Santa was Black."
Underdog tilted his head. "What are you talking about?" he asked, so surprised he couldn't keep his voice down.
"What are you talking about?" Santa intruded. Both embarrassed they had been caught, Polly and Underdog looked up at him. He was glancing at them over his shoulder, and as was usual, had on a big smile with a twinkle in his eye.
Underdog elbowed Polly back. She stumbled slightly, glared at him, then cleared her throat and smiled nervously. "Well, Mr. Claus— Mr… Santa…?— ahem, you must know how we portray you where we're from. You're typically pretty pale, and I was just telling Underdog that I… I knew you weren't!"
As Polly explained, Underdog took to squinting up at Santa. For all intents and purposes, he knew that Polly was wrong—Santa in the flesh looked just as he did on the Christmas cards Underdog had grown up with.
Santa laughed his laugh again, rattling the little Rocket on his shoulder with its force. He laid a hand on his belly and spun around to face the dogs. He continued to lead them, backwards, as he did.
"I am all things to all people!" he explained. "To you I am Black; to him I am white! I may be an angel, or a gnome, or a dog! I am Santa, and Sinterklaas, and Kris Kringle! It matters not how you think of me, so long as you know that I bring joy to all whom I meet!"
Underdog glanced Santa up and down thoughtfully. He had never heard that explanation of Santa's appearance—then, he figured, few had likely ever met the man.
"So we're both right, then?" Polly asked, leaning forward to watch him closer. Underdog watched her as a smile crossed his face. It seemed like her eyes had gained the same star-struck appearance they took on when she was in the middle of a juicy interview.
"Of course," Santa replied. He touched a fingertip to the end of Polly's nose, and another fluster of golden glitter poofed from it. Polly laughed, her face flushing red. Underdog hoped the red that crossed his own cheeks could be attributed to the reflection of an ornament.
With that settled, Santa turned back around. Fortunately, they did not have to walk for much longer before he stopped at a large door. It opened with a creak, and he stepped aside to let the dogs take a look around.
This room was nothing like the rest of the mansion. It was dark, mostly, lit only by the orange glow of a roaring fire. A tall armchair rested in front of it, sitting atop a fuzzy white rug. Though stockings were placed atop the mantle, glancing across the walls, the extent of the decorations seemed to be cranberry strands, ringlet garlands, and childlike doodles on printer paper. A window seat was placed opposite of the fireplace, and held a hundred squishy-looking pillows and blankets.
"Warm up in here," Santa said kindly, ushering them in with a wave of his hand. Rocket finally skittered down off his shoulder to give Underdog a shove.
"Keep standin' in the doorway and I have half-a-mind to hang up mistletoe!" she cried.
This time, Underdog was sure his blush couldn't be explained away. Luckily, Polly was just as pink as he was. She clasped a paw over her mouth to contain her smile. More embarrassed than he wanted to be, Underdog made his way into the room with Polly several steps ahead of him.
Santa moved to leave. "Eartha will take care of that cold of yours. When you're warm, I shall be in the workshop. We can discuss your crooks."
Before the big man could leave, Rocket snapped her claws together with a little click. She dove her hand inside her striped shirt, and within a moment, pulled out a minuscule handbell. She waved it up at Polly.
"And if you can't find 'im, ring this and I'll show up!" she smiled.
Polly nodded, pressing it into one of the pockets of her jacket. "I will. Thank you."
Rocket tilted her head, the jingle bell on her nightcap tinkling as she did. Without another word, she turned smoothly on her heel and leaped after Santa. He quietly closed the door as he left, leaving only Underdog and Polly.
Polly twirled a lock of hair on her ear while Underdog picked at his gloves. He licked his upper lip again and turned to the fireplace.
"Well, we should get comfy," he said as he neared the hearth.
"Cuddle with me?" Polly asked. Underdog turned back to her. She held onto one of her arms nervously. Though Underdog wanted to rest by the fire, Polly seemed to be heading toward the window seat. Despite that, Underdog couldn't help his smile.
"Sure," he replied.