[Well, ain't that a slap in the fucking face. Not the knee to the nads--no, unluckily for him, this Santa is from a point after human history discovered athletic cups. The old family jewels are safe and sound. Mostly. It still hurts, because he's fucking crushing me under him.

But mister Knight In Shining's really not the first person to come up with that strategy. I yank the candy cane back towards me and shove it--with his armoured fucking hands--into his own face with all the muscle I have.

The jab about beating up kids hits a little harder, but not because it's true. 'Beating up kids.' What a fucking crock.]

I'm not beating up kids, I'm just giving the magical gift of learning.

[Sore subject, but I can tell what he's thinking--that I like it, that it makes me feel big and powerful. That I'm in it for the kicks.

It's so absurd I could almost laugh. No, really--in a sick kind of way, it's almost funny.]

I haven't hit 'em once, dunkass.

[The words came out low and taut, though. Menacing. Not a threat, but it could be: the reason I didn't hit this kid isn't because I couldn't. I can do anything I choose.

I chose not to hit this kid.

Fucker. Let's see how he likes this.]

Talus!

[And lo, the reeking form of my Type: NULL comes barrelling in, all metal angles and festive jingling, to crash full bore into this asshole's torso.]