Elite Power

“This better be good, Nigel,” said Santa Claus as he entered his secondary workshop, presided over by an elite team of elves.

“No, sir, I’m sorry,” said Nigel. “It’s not good at all.”

Nigel led Santa into the inner briefing room. He lowered the lights and wound a jack-in-the-box, which popped up, its eyes immediately projecting a complicated scientific diagram onto the white wall.

“Do you have any idea what you’re looking at?” Nigel asked.

“Dammit, Nigel,” Santa said. “How many times do I need to tell you? I pay you to understand these sorts of things for me!”

“This is a radioactive compound,” Nigel said. “Just a drop of it in the local water supply, and all the pine trees in a thousand-mile radius, real, cut-down, or synthetic, go to needles and twigs.”

Santa was shocked. “What? How does it affect fake and cut-down trees?”

“Well, sir, per the pre-sulfuric barometric identity logs of most–”

“Never mind, Nigel. So you’re saying that this stuff could wipe out all Christmas trees in the world with only a few ounces. And if there are no trees…” But Santa trailed off. He couldn’t imagine it. No trees meant no presents. It was just how the Christmas magic worked. “I imagine this is the work of the Seasonal Commandos’ Rowdy Organization Of Grave Endangerment?” Santa said at last.

“Yes, but we have reason to believe the Grievously Radicalized International Noel Corrupting Henchman worked with them on it, sir,” Nigel clarified.

Santa shuttered. S.C.R.O.O.G.E. and G.R.I.N.C.H. working together? That was a terrifying prospect. “It’s gonna take some mighty intense firepower to take those two groups down, Nigel.”

“Already on it, sir,” Nigel said, leading him out of the briefing room and into the workshop. A number of elves ran around wearing safety goggles and hard hats.

Nigel handed Santa what looked like a small remote. “This thing uses aerosolized tinsel to stun and demobilize targets. Aim, fire, and whatever it hits will be wrapped so tight, not even a spoiled toddler on a warpath could get them out.”

“Excellent,” Santa said.

“This,” Nigel said, holding up what looked like a small camera with a lens on one side and a display screen on the other, “has a built-in naughty-and-nice detector. That way, you don’t have to worry about one of these goons passing themselves off as an ally.”

Santa pointed it at Nigel. The nice readings were off the charts. “You and your team did a bang-up job on these,” Santa said.

“There’s one more thing, boss,” Nigel said. He handed Santa a box. “This is a Limitless PowerPro 5-Device Charger & Surge Protector, and there’s also some screen cleaner in there. In case you need to plug in your devices, or want to clean the screen.”

“You think of everything, Nigel,” Santa said. “Now, I’ll need you to–”

“You don’t have to say it,” Nigel said. “Deer Team Six is oated and ready for action.”

“Thattaboy, Nigel,” Santa said, clapping the elf on the back. “Tell Mrs. Claus not to wait up for me. Oh, and one last thing: a Merry Christmas to all–” and here Santa put on a pair of sunglasses. “And to all, a good fight.”