PIP/Santa/Finding Krampus

Santa marched into the Observatory, startling a few of the elves. They obviously weren't expecting him back so soon. He walked to the Occulus to take the Eye of Odin back, but then got a thought . . . The Occulus magnifies the power of the eye on a global scale. If he was to find a new Krampus; the Occulus was the tool to do it. He stepped in front of the steampunkesque machine, the elf manning the station moving aside as though it were second nature as he approached. He thought for a moment, then pulled the Occulus to his empty eye socket. Gazing through the magitech device, he tried his best to filter through the billions of souls in its range. It was overwhelming. He focused on the qualities he was looking for in a host for Krampus. The din of the voices of the souls observed by the Occulus became more bearable.

He wasn't sure how much time was passing. Using the Occulus was a unique experience, and had a tendency to play havoc with one's perception of time. He removed option after option until he had a shortlist of ten potential Krampus hosts. He didn't have very many details on their lives, just their names and locations . . . but their nature was lain bear before him. He stepped away from the Occulus, and an elf handed him a paper with ten names and addresses written on it in beautiful calligraphy. Santa took the paper, and tucked it into his belt, then took the Eye of Odin from the Occulus, and put it into his eye socket.

"Wait here, Penny," said Santa. "I'll be back with a new Krampus before you know it."

The little elf just nodded in response as Santa left the room. He quickly gathered his sleigh and team, and was on his way to a small desert town in California. In a matter of minutes after leaving the Christmas Village he was over the town of Rattler Springs. He made his way to a derelict trailer park, to a particularly ramshackle trailer therein. He landed the sleigh on the roof; a bit of trepidation about the building's ability to hold the sleight emerging from what was left of the ununified part of Randal. He knew it wasn't really an issue . . . the trailer and sleigh would be just fine. He stepped out of the sleigh and walked to the stovepipe emerging from the roof of the trailer. With a wink of the Eye of Odin he was in the trailer.

Before him stood an unkempt shell of a man in the form of James Nathaniel Brown; former teacher and high school principal, forbidden from teaching again due to excessive disciplinary measures. He stood in the middle of his filthy trailer, trash strewn over every surface. His clothes were in horrible condition as well. He smelled like he hadn't showered in weeks, and the malodorous fumes of cheap whiskey rose from the man's very pores. He held a .357 magnum revolver loosely in his right hand as he stared at Santa with a slack jaw and a confused frown. Santa searched his memories of the boy the man before him once was. He was still a bit surprised how easily the information came to him.

"Are you going to shoot me, Jimmy?" asked Santa in a casual tone.

"No," said James hastily. He quickly cleared off an end table of the trash thereon, and carefully deposited the .357 on the table. "Of course not," he continued. "Are you - I mean - I didn't think - um - "

"Calm down, Jimmy," said Santa. "I am Santa Claus. I'm not here to cause you any harm." James seemed to relax a bit, but also seemed a little annoyed.

"Um, could you call me James, Santa?" he asked nervously. "I haven't been called Jimmy since I was a kid." Of course he hadn't. For some reason that hadn't even occurred to Santa.

"Ho ho ho," laughed Santa. "Of course James, my apologies. I only really knew you as a child until this very day."

"You knew me as a kid?" asked James hesitantly.

"Yes indeed," said Santa. "You were on the Nice List until you turned twelve and left the purview of my calling. I gave you a gift every year."

"Now I know you're lying," said James nervously. "There were years that we were so poor I didn't get anything for Christmas." Ah yes, the normal mistake made about his nature . . . confusing the gifts that he brings with presents.

Santa scoffed lightly. "I said I gave you gifts, James; not presents. Presents are material objects that last a handful of years if you're lucky. The gifts that Santa brings lasts forever. Do you remember when you were eight and found that you had a talent for drawing?"

"Um . . . yeah."

"That was my gift to you that year."

James expression blossomed like a flower as an epiphany overtook his expression. He shook his head a bit, then looked back into Santa's eyes.

"You're wondering why I'm here?" asked Santa.

"Yes."

"Do you know who Krampus is?"

James seemed to take a moment to think, then asked, "Isn't that some kind of punishing spirit that deals with the naughty children at Christmas?"

"Yes," said Santa simply. James looked into his eyes, but had to look away. Santa waited as the idea settled on the man. It slowly sunk through his alcohol-addled brain until it finally hit bottom.

"You mean you want me . . . to be Krampus? You want me to . . . punish the naughty children?"

"Perhaps," said Santa, still unsure of the man's worthiness. "I need a new Krampus. You are the most promising candidate, but you are not the only one. I'll have to see if you're worthy . . . that is if you are interested?"

"Yes," exclaimed James, "absolutely! Do I - I mean what do I need to do?"

"Just take my hand," said Santa with a smile as he held out his hand.

James took his hand, and Santa winked the Eye of Odin, transporting them both to the roof. He gave James a bit of time to take everything in before guiding him gently to the sleigh. They were soon off to the Christmas Village.

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