An Overlord's Tidings

The master of the castle looked down upon the damned, pleading fool at his feet and froze her with a domineering sneer. The mighty warrior king let out a haughty snort from his upturned nose as he rose from his opulent throne, thoroughly pleased to once again displaying the power and authority that he could wield upon everyone and everything as far as even his mighty crimson eyes could see. Even the sound of his boot-clad feet striking the black stone floor was enough to rattle his unwanted guest and, oh, how he drew contentment from the slight laughter that escaped his lips that only caused the woman to shiver with fright. It was nearly enough to coerce the mighty king into letting loose an enormous burst of evil laughter but time and consequences had taught him that such rewards deserved greater battlefields than this paltry scrape.

Now, with this image described and churning within the thoughts of this imaginative audience let us bring a greater dose of imagery into this bubbling stew. Try to recognize the reality that it took a moment or two longer for our hero to rise from his seat because his four-foot, three-inch frame was so ludicrously inappropriate for his massive chair that he had to slide on his backside just so that he could stand up from the edge of it. And the sound of his feet striking the floor, imposing as it was to his unfortunate audience, could have easily been considered ridiculous given that his knee-length boots did nothing to hide a pair of legs that were simultaneously reedy and squat. He crossed his overlong arms across his thin and fairly muscled bare torso, the horn-like bangs of blue hair that hung from the roof of his pronounced forehead bobbing with the minute motion. Observe this and please recognize the recklessness of careless laughter because this wee beastling was not at all uncomfortable with dropping enormous rocks upon those that slighted him.

"So let me see if I've got this straight," the diminutive leader began as the brunette-haired woman at his feet continued to cower in fear. "You get sent down here by this collection of so-called regal humans because they want me to make certain that your husband can give you a kid?!"

The cowering woman, a kind, well-meaning creature with elegant features that the king imagined that most humans would find attractive in their mates, attempted to look up with courage and dignity and managed to hold it despite a great deal of quivering and wavering. "I. . . I apologize. I was not aware that I would be asked to do this until after my marriage. I did not realize that the royals would not have. . . connections. . . w-w-w-with monsters."

Of course it was only natural that the king raised his eyebrows at receiving such a dubious distinction, the bushy slivers of cobalt hair just as pointed as the smile of their owner. "Well, this monster does have a name, y'know. If you want to get what you were dragged down here for then maybe you should address me properly."

The human female briefly lost her nerve as she turned away, her rich, brown hair falling over her eyes. "My. . . my sincerest apologies, Sir Laharl. . ."

In an instant the massive chamber was swathed within a wave of unholy energy that knocked the human off of her feet. Once heated by the gouts of hellfire and columns of solidified magma that surrounded the castle, the black marble floors of Laharl's chamber became intolerably frigid. A sharp wind rose up from seemingly nowhere that blew back the scarlet scarf that hung around the half-demon's so that the cloth hang like a crimson halo above his head.

"Are you kidding me?! It's OVERLORD! Overlord Laharl, you unbelievable cow!" exclaimed the pint-sized master of the nether realms, his already high-pitched voice twisting towards what could have become an incomprehensible shriek. "How can those little ascot-wearing, tea chugging morons bring down somebody who can't even get that right. GET OUT!"

The British woman apparently had no qualms with fleeing the premises, her long legs carrying her out as quickly as her quivering muscles would allow. Laharl briefly observed the scene and once again felt the urge to surrender and bury himself fully within the joy of self-indulgent laughter but this time he was stifled by his sensing of a familiar presence. Recollecting himself with deceptive ease, the lone son of Lord Krichevskoy turned to sullenly greet Etna, his longtime second-in-command. She was clad in her familiar battlefield attire of black hot pants, high boots, and a ragged halter top that not only allowed for the exposure of a great deal of her slender and muscular abdomen but also provided enough space for her midnight-black wings to unfurl fully so that they stretched from the center of her back to just past the edges of her willowy shoulders. Her hair was coordinated and colored with equal unruliness as the streaks and spikes of red and purple locks jutted every which way. Of course, Laharl was well aware that Etna's chaotic outward appearance was merely a masquerade for the shrewd mind of a master tactician with wits that were equally suited for loyalty and betrayal.

That was why Laharl kept her around. It was always good to have somebody about that could keep an Overlord on his toes.

That and the fact that the Prinnies would have doubtlessly run off with her if she did choose to depart. Who would feed him?

"Now why did you just have to go and scare that poor human away?" Etna asked with a huff. "She only married into that wretched royal family anyway."

Laharl let out another snort as he unceremoniously sat back down upon his throne. "Well, after the past few weeks it doesn't take much for a human to get on my bad side anymore. First it was that ritzy little prat who sold his soul so that the team he owned could win a hockey game against some Canadians and then there was that balloon-bodied twit who said she'd give anything to drag some kind of musician to her wedding altar!"

Etna's brows furrowed as she easily put the pieces to the puzzle together. "What? That Kardashian woman again? HAH! As if anybody in her family had any kind of a soul left to sell!"

"I just don't get why we have to resign ourselves to listening to the demands of these idiotic mortals!" Laharl exclaimed while smacking his tiny fist against the stone armrest. "I am The Overlord of Hell!"

"Yes, and you're under the employment of The Demon King just like your father was before you," Etna calmly countered, the sassy demon taking a hint of amusement in her boss's resignation. "Part of your role as Overlord is to listen to the demands of the humans, angels, and demons that are capable of breaching the boundaries of this reality. Still, if you want some good news than our loyal servant Taylor Swift has managed to transfer another 40,000 souls into our service. Those that could be entitled to becoming Prinnies will be here by the next fortnight."

"Well, it's about time that we're getting some more help around here!" Laharl replied with a snarl as the sound of tiny footsteps invaded his chamber. The half-demon set his chin taut as he regarded a half-dozen Prinnies, the penguin-like creatures assigned to serve in purgatory under Laharl's phenomenally critical eye, as they all shuffled into the room with various platters and dishes. "Did you hear that, you pathetic little simpletons?! You better start working harder to keep your spot or I'll send you to Hoggmeister to clean up the demonic dragon dung!"

The barrage of Prinnies, having long grown accustomed to the violent threats of their judge and occasional executioner, continued about their work with nary a nervous quiver of their long beaks. A pair of them moved to sweep away the rubble left behind by Laharl's violent proclamations while three others scurried over to Etna to receive more specific instructions. This left the one that had drawn the short straw to present the Overlord with a leg of mutton and a goblet of blood pudding, the fifth of the Overlord's customary nine daily meals. The centuries-old regent made certain that the damned soul had to stretch his tiny legs to the utmost before snatching both items with either hand with such speed that the startled minion was left to fall to the floor with his tiny fins and flippers flailing the whole way down.

"If'sh a goot thing Ferrufuf faught these bwits how to coof!" Laharl confessed through a mouthful of food stuffs while watching his eternal victim waddle back to his feet. He noted the lack of alarm and lingering fear the creature was unconsciously displaying, swallowed his tasted portion and wiped a spot of pudding off his dimpled right cheek. "Waaaaaaaait a minute. Something's wrong here," he noted dangerously, his eyes quickly darting back and forth from one group of Prinnies to another. "You all look. . ." It honestly took some time for Laharl to find a detestable enough word to describe what had aroused his suspicions. "Happy! You look happy! WHY ARE YOU HAPPY?!"

Etna tried and failed to rein in the urge to roll her eyes as Laharl's question was quickly answered by a cheerful song forcing its way into the gloomy chamber. Although the dank halls that Laharl had painstakingly redesigned to sap the strength of cheerful souls seemed to take great effort in subduing the sudden infusion of good spirits they appeared to fail just as fervently as any attempt that could be made to keep the happy songstress from flitting her way inside. And flitting was the operative word as the deceptively aged creature kept herself aloft with tiny wings of the purest crimson pinions. Standing several inches taller than the fuming Overlord, her tiny hands and slight shoulders were encumbered with a variety of cleaning supplies ranging from a broom in her right hand, a feather duster in her left, and a collection of clean and dirty rags piled atop her otherwise pristine white robes. She somehow managed to keep anything from falling out of place while carefully collecting the dust that had collected along the stone rafters in the month that had passed since their last cleaning. Then, coming upon a clever idea, she tossed the feather duster behind her back so that she could ensnare it with the forked tail that ran from the base of her waist to the edges of her knobby knees. Her laughter was pure joyousness as she moved to finish off the rafters before throwing herself towards cleaning the windows, a new tune soon rising to her lips.

"I'll be home for Christmas. Just you wait and seeeeeee," the song was delivered with accurate phrasing and tempo but the female's sickeningly sweet vocal delivery prompted Laharl to dig his fingers into the supports of his throne that the black marble splintered like wet kindling. "There'll be snow. . . and mistletoe! And PRESENTS 'neath the treeeee!"

"FLONNNNNNNNNE!" Laharl's roar was so vociferous that a sliver of his phenomenal supply of supernatural energy escaped from his control and prompted the throne room to shake with such force that each and every Prinny was sent tumbling over. "What do you think you're doing?!"

Remaining as oblivious as ever to the seething hatred of the angry little demon below her, the fair-haired fallen angel greeted Laharl with a cheery smile. "Oh, hello, Laharl!" Flonne said in greeting with her customary high-pitched squeak. "Don't mind me. I was just helping the Prinnies with their daily labors. They just work so hard every day that I thought that I should help them out."

Desperate for some form of sanity, Laharl swiftly turned away from the endearing presence above him. Even he wouldn't deny that there was a hint of pleading in his eyes as he looked to Etna with a silent order to resolve whatever was happening but the impish smirk on the lips of his treacherous second-in-command quickly told him that he was on his own. "The Prinnies have been sent here to serve out their purgatorial sentences before they are to be brought to Heaven or Hell! They're supposed to work."

"But it's Christmas Eve, Laharl!" Flonne imploringly replied, her cherubic face marred with a slight whisper of consternation. "The time where we take a moment to forgot about our labors and our troubles and our worries and take comfort in the love that we all can share."

Laharl blew out a frustrated breath that wafted upward and batted back the horn-like strand on the left side of his head. "What did I tell you about mentioning lo. . . Wait a minute. It's Christmas?"

"What? Did the sharp influx of bartered souls not give it away?" asked Etna, her slight hands planted firmly on her hips. "It'll always amaze me how humans are willing to give up everything they are just so they can have the latest shiny toy. Aside from that I would have thought that all the decorations would have given it all away."

That prompted Laharl to leap to his feet. "Decorations?!" he asked before departing from the chamber in a blur of motion. Etna, to her credit, remained completely calm and even checked the beds of her fingernails for anything out of place during the seconds between Laharl's exit and subsequent return. Upon that moment it was all she could do to keep herself from exploding from the force of her laughter as she saw that her old friend was covered in a wide arrangement of holiday decorations. A wreath of garland was trapped within his scarf, a woolen stocking was around his right foot, a string of still flickering lights was ensnarled around his bare abdomen and a portion of a tiny Christmas tree, perhaps an ancestor of Ferny the Magical Christmas Tree who met its untimely end nearly three years ago, was lodged in his hair. It was a testament to the self-preservation skills of the Prinnies that none of them burst into laughter along with Etna as Laharl let out a high-pitched shriek before flinging the apparently offensive holiday items to the ground and smashing the items to bits with snarls and stomps.

"What were you thinking, Flonne! This is House Krichevskoy, the most infamous fortress within a dozen hell dimensions! We do not have DECORATIONS!"

"Well, maybe you could have put a stop to it if you hadn't decided to take that two-month nap," Etna replied matter-of-factly while idling toward the ruins and fetching a branch of the garland she had once placed above Laharl's bedchamber. She easily weathered Laharl's furious stare if only to allow Flonne to flutter down to the Overlord's side without his notice.

"I'm sorry, Laharl. I only thought that you would be open to the idea after you worked so hard to realize just how powerful love and companionship could be. So that way, when you woke up, you could be really happy!"

Laharl instinctively cinched at Flonne's reminder of his often perilous and always ridiculous journey that allowed Flonne to become a permanent fixture of his unholy home. Once an angel-in-trainee, Flonne had originally been sent to his own portion of hell to serve as his father's assassin but that woefully planned assignment was only a façade crafted by Flonne's boss to bring the both of them together. The whole thing began in earnest when the little blonde came up with the hare-brained scheme to show that a demon like himself could embrace and cherish the power of love, an impossibly hare-brained notion that doubtlessly empowered the fair-haired dodo towards completing this ridiculous stunt in which he had become an aggrieved victim.

Months would pass, demonic invasions would rise and fall and, yes, Flonne did manage to convince him that there were creatures like herself and Etna and his human mother that truly cared for him but that hardly meant anything for a formidable Overlord such as he! And, yes, he may have helped Flonne storm the very gates of Heaven itself to aid her in thwarting a seraphic revolution. He also might have shed a tear or two when he mistakenly believed that the former angel had lost her life in the climactic final battle but that didn't mean that he cared for her! And he most certainly wouldn't allow such ludicrous displays of good tidings and joy to remain within his mighty bastion!

"All right, I'll take the decorations down before the end of the day," Flonne declared, her tone definitive enough to startle the conviction-riddled greater demon out of his determination. "But, before I do, I wanted to show you that you're not the only demon who has come to know the power of love, Laharl! He even came to befriend humans just like you did with Captain Gordon and Miss Jennifer."

"Oh, goodie," Laharl gloomily replied while slumping back down on his seat and brushing away some strands of garland that remained on his voluminous wraparound. Finding himself somewhat appeased that Flonne was willing to consign herself to sanity, he made no efforts to bemoan or stop the fair-haired irritant as she hefted a large, orb-laden pedestal from the southwestern corner of the chamber and carefully placed it in front of his throne. The black sphere was designed to provide images of critical events within realities that Laharl was responsible for and Flonne quickly demonstrated that she could employ the eldritch device with a practiced ease. "Please tell me that you haven't discovered some kind of offspring of my human-happy father!"

"No, nothing like that!" Flonne exclaimed while concentrating to make certain that the device would take her to where she wanted to be. "This half-demon was actually born a human and had a demon planted within him. He was transformed into a monster who was twisted and manipulated to serve powerful humans but he was saved by the power of love!"

"Yaaaay," Etna and Laharl said with matching flatness.

"Oh, come on, Wall Eye! I'm telling you that they'll be perfectly safe!"

Wally West, frowning at the mention of his least admired nickname, attempted to look the part of an authoritarian father while being marred by a ridiculously fluffy and green Christmas sweater. It was a gift from Jay Garrick and his wife and the Flash of Earth-2 was now completely convinced that the Flash of Earth-1 had sent it to stat off some monstrous cosmic joke. "Stephanie Brown, are you honestly expecting me to believe that I can trust you with the safety of my children while they're on something that moves and will be piloted by you?"

Stephanie, the youngest of Earth's Green Lanterns, looked as cross as she was wont to do when she didn't get her way during the holiday season. Her troubled childhood had bought the rambunctious 21-year-old some leeway as it came to the last handful of eventful Christmases at Wayne Manor but that forgiveness had long begun to melt away just as the snow would slip away from the lavish grounds in two days time.

"It's a sled! Normal children ride on sleds in the snow during the winter!" Stephanie pointed out. It was a logical point but the addendum that the children in question were barely past their fourth birthday was shockingly avoided. "Besides if anything hairy really does happen then Grodd will show up to protect them!"

The Fastest Man Alive bristled at the mention of his former nemesis and the current ordained guardian of his children. "Yes, because what I want Jai and Iris to think of when they think of Christmas is being put in mortal danger before being rescued by an 850-pound gorilla rising up from the depths of Hell!"

"Holy Hannah, will the both of you shut up for a second!" complained a nearby grouchy voice seated on a couch in the dayroom that Stephanie and Wally had just invaded. The complainer was one Oliver Queen, a man more commonly known to the world as the vigilante Green Arrow, who was obviously quite irked by whatever was being presented by the person talking to him through his cellular telephone. "Mia, I'm telling you that I would love to be in Star City for Christmas! It's just that we're looking at a potential planet-wide invasion coming to us in about a week and there are 1,001 different things to take care of. I'll get back home as soon as I can!"

This was the scene, a venue decidedly lacking in good tidings and joy, where Lloyd Thomas observed his surroundings from the distant vantage point of his favorite reading chair in the southwestern corner of the room. To aid the uninitiated, he was the half-demon that Flonne was so insistent on presenting but it was rather clear to even the most optimistic of observers that he hardly seemed to draw comfort from the humans he had come to care for. A victim of abandonment, torture, manipulation, deceit, and love, the boy turned half-demon was perhaps tailor made to be the type of creature that cherished the warmth of company but yet be completely ignorant as it came to ensuring it. Of course, Christmas has long been a time for others to trudge that extra mile for the sake of the sad and downtrodden and Lloyd soon found himself buoyed by one who would willingly make that sacrifice.

"Master Thomas, I currently find myself terribly encumbered with Christmas preparations. Perhaps you would be so kind as to assist with the candied yams?"

Lloyd took in the well-polished words with a gasp of shyness before letting out a relieved breath and proceeding to rise to his feet and follow Alfred Pennyworth towards the kitchen. The half-demon hardly required his telepathic gifts to recognize that the experienced butler and culinary expert didn't need any help preparing the traditional Christmas Eve dinner. "Sorry, old man," he softly replied upon stepping foot into the bustling food preparation area. "I suppose I've been a bit out of it the past few hours or so."

"No, you were still fervently wishing that this home would be a bit quieter for the holidays," Alfred countered, his erudite British brogue cutting through Lloyd's lackluster excuse just as easily as the stainless steel ladle sliced through the air on the way to The Black Dog's left hand. "Now stir the sauce so that the butter melts through evenly."

The command could have been considered to be a phenomenally inappropriate gesture but Alfred possessed more than enough charm to infuse a bit of kindness amongst the coarse verbiage to the point where the younger Brit responded with a quick chuckle before turning to his task with his usual determination. "I don't know. You know I'm no stickler for the holidays," Lloyd began while slicing into the sugar and syrup laden sweet potatoes with all the grace that he displayed with a sword. "I mean, ever since I've found out that I'm living on borrowed time I just get these occasional sparks of just. . . wanting to. . . enjoy life. I mean, it's one thing to fight the good fight but another to take heart in the spots of peace in between, yeah?"

"Well, it is only natural that such a frenzied lifestyle would only invite a desire to have occasional moments of serenity. That being said, perhaps your efforts would garner more success if you sought a more active approach. Perchance with the aid of a kindred spirit."

Lloyd didn't need the sound of approaching footsteps to inform him that someone was encroaching upon their thoughtful moment. A surge of hope bubbled through his thoughts as he turned to greet his beloved Kara, the woman who had provided more peace and happiness than he could have ever hoped for. Those memories would turn to serve as a necessary balm when the half-demon caught full sight of his lover and the hardened anger that lined her usually tender features.

"Or perhaps not," Alfred quickly noted before wisely returning his attention towards the glazed ham that was already overdue for its appointment within the nearby oven. This left Lloyd to weather the simmering storm on the horizon as Kara let out what was supposed to be a cleansing breath before speaking her words through gritted teeth.

"Bruce has been pestering me about training exercises nonstop, Helena is drunk on the egg nog, Stephanie and Wally won't leave the house, Ollie won't go to his house and Lian and Roy set off a sticky bomb in our bathroom as one of their stupid Christmas pranks so now everything in our bedroom smells like potpourri and epoxy! Do. . . something. . . to stop this!"

"Well, I can definitely see why you think I might identify with this guy," said Laharl after successfully completing an appropriately sinister chuckle. "He's surrounded by idiots who make a lot of noise, pestered by humans who don't even bother to deal with their own problems and now he's being harassed by a woman who can't even see that he wants to be left alone." The Overlord was momentarily convinced that it was enough to leave it at that until he took another look back at the running image. "I do like this Pennyworth guy though. Any chance that this guy will become a Prinny?"

"Naw, not too much soulful confliction for that guy," Etna replied with a hint of remorse (she always appreciated a sound helping hand). "Wait a second though. This reality isn't a part of our jurisdiction, Flonne. How were you able to get access to it?"

Her brow wrinkled and her lips turned into a distinct frown, Flonne could only seem to save a fraction of her attention for her demonic friends. "These were the creatures that defended The Demon King during Neron and Zalbarda's assault on Hashmalamum."

"Oh yeaaaaaah. I thought I recognized some of those faces from the newsletter," Laharl replied before letting out another discontented harrumph. "So what's the skinny on this pathetic creature anyway?"

"Name's Lloyd Thomas. Apparently some people like to call him The Black Dog," Etna began, her voice carrying all the interest and passion of a secretary reading the minutes back. "His father ran off, mother killed herself, and he got experimented on as a kid so that he could control the power of a greater demon. Apparently he's some big time champion in that reality but not a lot of people in that reality even know the guy."

"Well, if he isn't even going to try and take over the world then he isn't that much of a demon, is he?" Laharl said with a snort. "Still, the whole thing about this greater demon sounds a little interesting. This human probably only has a couple of years before his power completely burns him out. Ya think maybe I can force the demon into servitude after his human bites it?"

"NOOOOOOOO!" came Flonne's anguished wail, the volume and tone of it startling the two others and even some of the Prinnies that remained in the room. "Mister Lloyd and his friends don't deserve to be feeling like this after doing so many good things! They've worked so hard to make sure that other people can have peace, joy, and happiness that they deserve it in return! Especially on Christmas!"

"You mean there's more than just the one thing?" Etna asked, her interests now genuinely piqued. "But if Dabura was only giving everyone access to these guys just recently then how would you know about them?"

Flonne briefly turned to face Etna and gave her friend a fretful smile before returning her attentions to the scene at Wayne Manor. "Master Lamington would let me watch the humans after I completed my first 800 years of angel training. Mister Lloyd and his friends were my favorite humans ever!"

"Wow, you sound a little bit star struck, girl," Etna couldn't help but enthuse with an honest smile. The red-and-purple haired demon would be the first to admit that Flonne had her irritating moments but she had always found something endearing within her friend's unflinching enthusiasm. "So did you ever pop on down from the gates of Heaven and say hello? Maybe speak to them in their dreams or have Jesus's face appear in one of their croissants are something?"

"Well. . . I didn't want to be rude and just show up unannounced," Flonne began, the first hints of hesitance finally showing up. "I just thought it would have been nice to admire them from a long way away!"

Etna twisted her lips while mulling over the potential implications. "Sooooooo you were entertaining yourself by watching these creatures do whatever it is they do without them ever knowing about it? Without even saying thanks? That's. . . not. . . really angelic."

"Well, I'm not going to stand by this time!" Flonne declared, a familiar fire churning through her blood-red eyes that usually signified that she was about to do something either extraordinarily selfless or phenomenally foolish (and sometimes both). "I'm going to travel to Wayne Manor and remind The Misfits of the strength they find in each other, the love that binds them together and allows them to do the impossible."

"Well, count me out," Laharl quickly broke in with a smarmy smirk. "I'm not about to avoid the chance for some peace and quiet around her while you're gone. And besides! Somebody has to be responsible about finalizing all these soul contracts."

"I'll go," Etna said casually, her calm statement instantly invoking Flonne's joy and Laharl's anger. "Don't get me wrong, I love the smell of fire and brimstone but it might be a little cleansing to spend some time in a place that isn't littered with tortured souls."

"WHAT?! You can't leave!" Laharl exclaimed while angrily observing Flonne giving his second-in-command and overenthusiastic embrace. "If you leave then who is going to do all the work?"

"Oh, just stand in front of the mirror long enough and I'm sure you'll find somebody," Etna fired back with her familiar sneer even as Flonne was literally dragging her out of the chamber. "Come on, short stuff! You keep calling yourself The Overlord. Go. . . lord over somebody."

Laharl kicked the front of his throne with the heel of his right boot before leaping back to his feet. Understandably angered that his two closest associates had left him high and dry, the half-demon quickly resorted to his natural defense mechanism of searching for poor souls to punish in order to relieve his frustration. And that, of course, prompted the surrounding Prinnies to scamper away as quickly as their tiny feet could carry them but their desperate attempt to escape was brought to a halt as Laharl subconsciously summoned a shockwave that sent the half-dozen lingering souls stumbling back to the floor once again.

"Now hear this! You Prinnies will review and sign off on the contracts for each and every one of these new souls that Taylor Swift has brought into my possession. If you fail to complete the task by the rising of the second sun then an extra 25 years will be added to your sentence. Fail to properly forge my signature on these forms and you will go the next 100 years without food! Understand?"

There was a great deal of dismay, despair and even some mournful declarations of "Doooooood!" but the mighty king of this castle gave no mind to the misery of his subjects. Realizing that no plausible party was around to stop him and feeling that he had earned his reward, Laharl threw his head back as far as his scrawny neck could bend it and let out a laugh of considerable evilness.

"AAAAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAAAAAAA!"

The time it had taken for Etna and Flonne to prepare for their trip to Wayne Manor had been enough to allow for night to fall upon the majestic environs. And with the lingering light of the third-quarter moon there seemed to be some semblance of serenity amongst those that had come to call the mansion their home. Of course, it takes far less time and energy to throw a veil in front of a crack in a social foundation than to repair it in full and the calculated silence of those that were clustered around the living room television dredged up the possibility that not all was truly well. Further evidence of this was provided as Roy and Wally let out some distempered grunts while Stephanie let out a whoop of delight before flinging her wireless game controller into the air.

"Oh, yeah! Oh, yeah! I fight for my friends, bitches!" the Gotham-based Robin crowed while breaking into a victory dance, the fair-haired champion of will ironically not paying any attention to the ire being thrown her way by her actual comrades. "Hey, guys! Did you guys just miss the superhero class where we were taught to stay away from somebody with a giant sword?"

"God damn Ike and fuck that three-hit combo and screw this stupid game!" Roy shouted back while slamming his own controller against the leather coach he had rested his back against. Momentarily deprived of his daughter and partner-in-crime, the expert marksman known professionally as Arsenal quickly snatched up the beer he had perched on a nearby coaster and drew back a quick sip. "Why are we even playing Smash Brothers Brawl anyway? The game is, like, five years old and it's made for 10-year-olds!"

"How appropriate since you always act like a kindergartener when you lose!" Stephanie gaily countered before subjecting the red-haired sharpshooter with a loud and wet raspberry.

"Well, then let's take some time to see you whine and cry when I pop in Call of Duty!" You know, if you actually have the stones to play a game that is actually made for adults."

"Oh, yeah! That there's a masterpiece. Getting into some digital clusterfuck with a whole bunch of lazy frat kids and bullied teenagers running around pretending to be badass soldiers. Ahhhh! I've got blood all over my eyes! Now I need to walk around for a couple of seconds so I can go back to normal. How is that supposed to be realistic warfare?!"

"Um, guys. . ."

"You know what the real problem is?" asked Wally West, his hands still gripping the controller after another victory denied. "Neither one of you want to play a game that you think you might lose!" The squawking denials were already coming in full force but The Flash had spent some time building up this head of steam and refused to be deterred. "So we just end up playing the same damn games over and over again instead of playing anything new!"

"There's. . . something happening over here."

"Wellllll, maybe if you ever actually won in a video game then we might hear your argument!" Stephanie's tactless but true retort was immediately coupled with Roy shouting back to plead his case and thus the both of them were rendered mute to the sound of bare but powerful feet stomping into the day room.

"Bloody, buggerin' hell."

"Are you arguing again?!" Kara spat back, the force of her anger eventually coaxing the three quarrelers to bring their attention to her. "Even after I sent the kids with Dick and Naomi?! Good Rao, I am sick of listening to all of you yelling about nothing!"

"OI!" The coupled vocal and telekinetic summons was enough to finally garner Lloyd some attention from his spot in the corner of the living room. There was an open book and an empty bowl that had once been full of sweet potatoes on the nearby end table but The Misfits' second-in-command quickly brought the attention of his friends toward the pair of unexpected presences that were patiently standing to his right. Upon gathering the attention of more of her favorite humans, Flonne could barely restrain her elation and presented the crowd with the brightest and most endearing smile that one could ever hope to see.

"Oh, holy, hoppin' shit crystals! PLEASE don't tell me that we're about to be forced into another stupid Christmas adventure!" Stephanie bemoaned while slumping her forehead against her right palm until her blonde bangs fell in front of her eyes. "First that Christmas demon and then the weird Metal Men and then the killer rabbit?! When is enough enough?!"

Quite used to such vocal displays of universal pessimism, Flonne weathered the unexpected bump in the road with a quick breath and pushed herself forward with a quick curtsy. "Pleased to meet you all. I am Flonne, a former angel tutored by Master Lamington to serve as a link between humanity, demons, and holy creatures."

"Etna. I'm a demon. S'up." The red-and-purple haired demon punctuated the last bit of her greeting by turning to Lloyd and bobbing her head upward to which she received a reciprocal response.

"We are here on behalf of all the good souls that you have helped protect during your years of noble service," Flonne went on, her words carrying so much warmth and generosity that Etna momentarily thought that she was going to be ill. "I realize that all of you are going through a great deal of stress because of the impending invasion but please don't take your frustrations out on each other. Remember that all of you came together searching for a haven you could call home and you found that by working together and trusting in one another. So now, in this time where we take heart in the best parts of what make us who we are, our yearnings to give and receive the bounties of not just those we love but also of people we may never know, I ask you to please just stop and think about what you all mean to each other."

Perhaps it was only natural that the moments to follow were dominated by a thoughtful silence. Unfettered by any dose of caring of what may happen next, Etna turned to face Lloyd once again and examined the desperate glint of hope in the half-demon's eyes. It was the same expression that Laharl held in his haunted eyes when he thought that Flonne hadn't been taken away from him and the usually cold-hearted demon found herself once again astonished by how her friend could bring out the best in everyone.

Then she saw a familiar light rise from Flonne's hands and Etna immediately began to panic.

"Maybe words just aren't enough," Flonne recognized as the force of her magic set her blonde hair to sweep high above her petite forehead. "I'll use my power to show you all the things you've shared together. All the wonders and all the good times. You all deserve this! Maybe more than anyone I know!"

"Woah. Wait a second, Flonne!" Etna shouted, the corner of her left eye picking up the sight of Lloyd rising from his chair and striding forward until he was standing next to her. "You know how wonky your magic can get outside of Hell! Are you really sure about this?"

"PRETTY PRETTY PRITTANICA!"

Flonne's uttering of the chant she most often employed when invoking her supernatural gifts was almost instantly followed with a blinding flash of light.

Then the 150-foot demon showed up in the middle of the living room.

Then Flonne screamed.

Then, for the fourteenth time that day, Lloyd wished that he had just gone to see his foster mother for the holidays.

Laharl awakened from his slumber to the sound of a barb-covered mace slamming into his steel-hard skull. More disturbed by the clanging noise than by whatever pain could have been induced from the slight chunks of his epidermis being pulled from the rest of his body, the centuries old Overlord was ready to cave in the skull of the Prinny responsible until he spotted the red fez. That gaudy hat, an article of clothing that Flonne had insisted on buying for Verrier after the loyal Prinny had survived the trials of Vulcanus, was enough to momentarily settle Laharl's understandable thirst for violence.

"Hey, dood," Verrier said in greeting, his tone calmer and deeper than that of the panicking Prinnies around him. "It looks like Miss Etna and Miss Flonne may have gotten themselves in trouble."

Taking a brief moment to examine the chaos around him, Laharl let out a grumble before leaping off of his throne once again. "This better be good, Verrier," the Overlord said while wiping away the sleep from his eyes. "Only getting a six-hour nap tends to lead to a couple of Prinnies getting their skeletons ripped out of their bodies."

Unfazed by the grisly but familiar threat, Verrier gently placed his blood-soaked weapon by the throne. "Well, I did finalize all the contracts," he began. "Still, I think you might get a good idea of what's going on by looking at that screen, dood."

Turning to face the screen, the expression on Laharl's face transformed quickly from annoyance to shock and then back to annoyance at the sight of the hulking hell beast tearing apart Wayne Manor in his attempts to rend Flonne's little human friends limb from limb. "What the hell? How did Baal get loose? I made certain that he was sealed within his prison after slaying him with my own two hands!"

"OH NOOOOOO!" replied a familiar wail as Etna and Flonne made their way back into the throne room. While the former demon lady continued to keep her calm attitude the latter was frantically dashing her way to the screen to examine whatever she could. "Etna! Why did you drag us away? We need to help them!"

"I think we've helped them enough!" Etna shouted back, her nerves momentarily getting the better of her. And not without reason, mind you. Of all the greater demons that had challenged Laharl for control of their own little slice of hell it had been Baal that had easily been the greatest threat to the throne. An ancient evil that had struck fear even in the hearts of demons of the purest blood, he had been imprisoned for countless millennia simply because no creature was willing to risk their existences by making any effort to do away with him. "Laharl, Flonne tried to become some kind of magic trick and Baal apparently grabbed a hold of it and used it to pull himself free from his prison. If we don't move quickly he's going to tear apart that version of Earth."

Laharl, faced with the potential calamity resulting in billion of deaths, let out a quiet chuckle. "So let him! After all, it's not like that part of the overworld is my responsibility anyway."

"What are you saying?" Flonne cried out in disbelief, her shock at Laharl's selfishness enough to push her attention away from the onscreen violence. "This is my responsibility, Laharl! If you won't go and help fight then I'll go by myself!"

"You're not going anywhere either!" Laharl snapped back while crossing his rail-thin arms across his chest. "I didn't say anything about not fighting. What we're going to do is sit back, summon all our comrades, and then we'll go and take on Baal with all guns blazing and defeat him just like last time."

Etna clinched her teeth and sucked in a breath even as Flonne was still working out the implications. "Well. . . I can't deny that it's a sound strategy. That being said, by the time we can get Gordon's group back from wherever they are this version of Earth will probably be nothing but a cinder."

"Well, it is Christmas," Laharl pointed out. He bent his scrawny but powerful legs in an instant and leapt high into the air, his phenomenally agility allowing for plenty of dramatic flips and twirls before concluding with a perfect landing on the roof of his massive throne. "They had better do it, and decrease the surplus population."

"Wow," Etna said dully, the spear-wielding demon briefly turning her attentions back to a stunned and silent Flonne. "That is just. . . phenomenally evil."

"Indeed!" Laharl proclaimed while placing his hands back on his hips. "How appropriate for a demon who will surpass even The Demon King himself by defeating Baal on the battlefield for the second time! AAAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAAAA!"

Worn out emotionally and physically, Lloyd did not even bother to leap free of the demon's plummet and held tight to the hilt of the Mugalshir while the rest of the gleaming silver blade remained embedded within the skull of his victim. He waited several seconds to see if the enormous monstrosity would stir and, finding no sign of life, yanked the mystic weapon free and twirled it about to rid the sword of much of the black blood that stained it. His instincts as a leader set in soon after and he swept his sights across the surrounding ruins to confirm that his nearest and dearest were still drawing breath and let out a gasp of relief upon discovering that all was relatively well even after the 45 minutes of intense warfare.

"Well, great! Now the manor is trashed. Again!" Stephanie dully reported in. Much like Lloyd, the Green Lantern's clothing was ripped and torn and stained with demon and human blood alike but it was safe to say that none of her many wounds would debilitate her for long. "Well, I guess that saves Wall Eye here from getting his ass kicked again. Oh! And now he won't have to worry about the evil snow bank that apparently wants to eat his children."

"You can't even stop looking for trouble for one second!" Wally fired back, his familiar red-and-yellow speed suit just as messy and threadbare as the attire of his comrade. "Do you have any idea how long it's going to take to rebuild and restock the kids room?"

"I'd say about as long as it takes for me to rack up a kill streak just by hunting down Stephanie."

"Bite me, Harper!"

"Nobody's biting anybody! Stop arguing!"

"Stop yelling at us to stop yelling at each other, Kara!"

Lloyd Thomas was proud that many of those he cared for considered him to be a reliable leader. That time had given him the wisdom and wherewithal to recognize that he could have said something to save the day but now he. . . just didn't have the patience for it. He resorted to his basest desire for peace and solitude and walked away with a series of brisk strides, the rubble and crumbling columns and walls making for a ridiculously simple exodus. The dark chill of the winter moonlight was a dismal blessing that The Black Dog accepted with a heavy breath. So weighted, in fact, that it had given a presence whose absence was doubtlessly noticeable in the eyes of some the time to get within speaking range.

"I wanted to tell you that you managed to keep the battle contained enough to leave the lower levels of the mansion largely undamaged."

The Brit responded with a snort that was a hint more haughty than he would have liked. "Bloody figures that your top priority would be the gadgets and gizmos, Wayne."

Bruce Wayne, the master of the ruined manor, fired back with decided neutrality. "Get out of here for a while, Lloyd. I'll handle the load for a little while."

Lloyd couldn't bother to hide his gratefulness. "Y'know, I wouldn't have thought you to be the one to rush out to offer the warm sympathy, boss."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Kara and Stephanie nearly broke both my arms when I reached out to stop them from following after you." Having acquired a more pronounced reputation for coming through in the clutch when it came to providing kind words for his adopted sons, his slow steps seemed to offer a delay for him to pick his words more properly. "Buildings fall apart but they can be rebuilt, Lloyd. Bad decisions can be made and argued away but there's always a chance to say the next word. What you've brought into our lives. . . all the. . . effort you've put in to try and make this a home. . ."

"It's not my home, Bruce," Lloyd broke in, his voice a bit strained. "It's not my money, it's not my manor, it's not even my power. And, in a few years time, I won't even have that to call mine."

"Didn't I just tell you that I put my shoulders in jeapordy by keeping two beautiful women from running off after you?" asked Bruce, his candor momentarily carrying some slivers of the billionaire fop that prompted Lloyd into rolling his eyes. "You gave Stephanie somebody she could talk to whether she had the mask on or not. Kara got somebody who could give her a shot at normalcy. Roy received somebody to watch his back. Wallace found someone he could run alongside. None of them would still be looking for something really special if not for you."

The Black Dog let out a ragged laugh. He didn't mean to have a tear in his eye but there it was. "What about you, Wayne? What present did I manage to put under your tree?"

Bruce's coy smile offered a bit of the answer. "Mister Thomas, you gave me a family to help put the pieces back together back again after everything falls apart. Now, if you wouldn't mind, please give Dick some hell for not bothering to come home for the holidays."

"Will do, my captain."

"GRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

Laharl's scream managed to muffle out much of the noise from his rapid footsteps as he worked up the speed to deliver a running punt kick to the poor, unfortunate Prinny that had been picked to be punished. The mighty lash of his foot sent the penguin-like minion soaring up and away from the castle like a cruise missile but even the shattering of the stone wall wasn't enough to blunt the Overlord's strangled scream.

"HOW DARE THAT OGRE-HUMPING BASTARD! How could the once almighty Baal lose to a bunch of fragile humans? Only I had the right to avenge the death of my father!"

"You did avenge the death of your father! Baal just came back to life."

Laharl clenched his fists so tightly that black blood oozed onto his fingernails. "Well, at least I can take some small comfort in the truth that I eliminated Baal in an honorable battle. One-on-one and toe-to-toe!"

"You had all of us backing you up the whole time. Are you even listening to me, Laharl?"

The mighty half-demon turned to his eldest friend with a snarl. "Y'know, as my second-in-command, you should probably be saying something that's a bit more supportive to me."

Etna raised her eyebrows at Laharl's first sign of returning to reality since Baal had fallen. "Well, maybe if you actually said something that made the least bit of sense then I might get on board here."

Laharl briefly thought over whether he should fire off another useless withering glare before finally settling with letting out a grunt and sitting back down at his throne. "Etna, I have lived for over 1,300 years. And, yeah, I might have slept through about 700 of those but you'd think that I would have been able to figure out how to make life a little easier."

"Well, I don't think it's really that bad," Etna considered, the usually shrewd demon momentarily thrown by Laharl's contemplative moment. "I mean, yeah, your biggest claim to fame just got duplicated by a bunch of humanoids with severe psychological dysfunctions but it could be worse. You could. . . be carrying. . . half our weapons down the hallway?"

"Huh?" Laharl took the wiser route by following Etna's eyes and came upon twelve hunting crossbows, eleven magic long staves, ten Desert Eagles, nine mystic axes, eight spiked gauntlets, seven bladed polearms, six yew wood long bows, five SMG's, four bazookas, three shotguns, two mecha suits and an actual partridge in a pear tree and it was all being carried about by a single poor, stupid soul. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING, FLONNE?!"

Unable to look at Laharl properly, Flonne just shifted her enormous pile of somewhat stolen weaponry so that she was facing him (albeit through a giant pile of metal). "I'm going before The Dark Assembly to convince them that they need to repair the damage down to Wayne Manor. The weapons. . . are for if they say no."

"Wow. Two stupid decisions in one day. Going for the record here, Flonney?" asked Etna, her idle hands effortlessly plucking away one of the tridents from Flonne's arsenal. "You know, The Dark Assembly is a hard enough place to wage war at with a group. Doing this alone would be impossible."

"No. This is PERFECT!" Laharl proclaimed while leaping back to his feet. "I will showcase my superiority to these so-called Misfits by forcing those demonic fuddy duddies to give them back their stuff! And, just as you said, if the assembly says no then that just gives me another way to prove the unparalleled power of the mighty Overlord. AAAAAAAAAA-HAHAHAHAHAHAAAAAA!"

"Maniacal laugh! Maniacal laugh!"

Laharl's efforts to snatch away some of the heavier weapons from the fallen angel were momentarily put on hold as he responded to the high-pitched and gleeful cry. "Maniacal laugh? What are you talking about, Love Freak?"

"I heard it in a movie. You never let me laugh with you so I thought that this was the next best thing!"

Etna thought it best to look on in silence as Flonne and Laharl bickered and walked away. She even remained silent as Flonne became unburdened enough to plant a kiss on Laharl's cheek, an uninhibited display of love and affection that brought a pained screech from the very maw of the blue-haired demon.

And the plan to overthrow the blue-haired softie from his thrown? She considered the cancellation to be a rather impetuous Christmas present.

Misfits Confidential

Well, I do recognize that this story doesn't make a whole lot of sense even if you played Disgaea: Hour of Darkness (which you really should, by the way). Then again, if you honestly expected some kind of sanity from one of my holiday stories then you haven't read the tales from the years before. As always, these words are dedicated to my loyal readers in general and one Canadian little sister in particular. Life may keep rolling onward, schedules may change, and maybe I won't write stories and read comics as often as I used to but I'll never forget the people that I met while bringing these stories to light. I thank you and I love you all.

Merry Christmas.