[Synopsis: Come one, come all, gather round the fireplace to hear this holiday tale about a greedy old cultist who, on Christmas Eve, gets visited by three mysterious spirits. Will he learn to change his crooked ways? And...will he even be given that second chance?]

[Location: Duncan's gadget shop & home]

Mild TW: Some disturbing elements of gore towards the end

BASED ON THE ANIMATED CHRISTMAS SPECIAL BY MARTIN WALLS
(see above)

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In a remote corner of the city of Crewville, not too far away from the Crewmate Community College, there stood a small shop which was run by an old man named Duncan. In spite of its small size, Duncan's store wasn't particularly well-known or successful, but it raked in a pretty decent buck for him; gadgets of his caliber were hard to come by, and only cost ever so slightly less than anything with a fancy name brand, which summoned plenty of eager-to-pay bargain hunters. But it did no good in lifting his spirits, for Duncan was just as mean and greedy as he was rich.

On this particular night, there was a thick quilt of snow on the ground. It was the night before Christmas, and one of Duncan's newest hires, Dum, was busy sweeping the floor in preparation for closing time.

...All of a sudden, the handle of her broom knocked up against an open laptop displayed on a shelf, and the device fell to the floor and shattered before her.

"GAH! O-oh no!"

Duncan, who was in his office counting his money, heard the commotion and came stomping out onto the sales floor to see what his klutz of an employee had done. When he saw the broken computer, his coal-colored face went deep red with anger.

"Look what you've done, you clumsy oaf! I'd just gotten done modifying that this evening!"

"I-I'm sorry, Mr. Duncan, sir. I, uh...I might know someone who can fix it for you!"

"No, no, no. No one except for ME can fix them the proper way I want them...I'll have to take it out of your paycheck."

"My paycheck? But...but it's Christmas Eve, Mr. Duncan. A-and that thing was almost as much as I make here in a week! How will I be able to pitch in to help feed my family tomorrow!?"

"Not my problem! Christmas Eve, oh bah-humbug. You should've thought of that before you decided to bust my precious merchandise. Now get back to work, I don't pay you to slack off."

"You're hardly gonna pay me at all..."

"Just get back to work, you-!"

Knock knock knock

"...Oh, who could THAT be now? I'm going to be closing in two minutes. Whoever that is better make it quick!"

The old man made his way over to the door, shaking his head at the apparent lack of manners coming from whoever was on the other side. He opened the door, and rose his eyebrow in confusion when he saw the brown-clad stranger standing there, a set of round fuzzy ears on his head and a cup of change in his outstretched hand.

"Good evening, sir! Um, I'm going around town collecting donations for the Crewville Cancer Treatment Center. All funds go directly into developing treatments and giving our patients adequate care! It especially means a lot to us during the holidays, believe me. Would you happen to have any spare funds for this cause?"

Duncan looked down into the metal can of assorted currency the crewmate had in hand...A smug, greedy grin spread across his face.

"Cancer donations, ey? Don't mind if I do."

Without skipping a beat, Duncan reached his hand into the can and PULLED OUT a chunk of change instead of adding to it, much to the collector's horror.

"I-whah-!? Y-y-you can't do that!"

"I just did, what makes you say I can't?"

"Give that back right now!"

"What're YOU gonna do about it, ya crooked little ankle biter? This here is MY store, and I can do as I please in it with WHOM I please."

Cub simply looked him in the eye, horror turning to quiet, boiling rage.

"Ohhh, I...I know this is a terrible thing to say, but I wouldn't give two figs if you dropped dead this very night."

"Yeah, yeah, get lost you little snot rag..."

SLAM

Click

He aggressively shut and locked the door, flipping the 'OPEN' sign in the window to 'CLOSED' side.

"Uh...C-can I unlock that really quick so I can go? My shift's over."

"Go out the back door, Dum! It's not like I didn't give you the key! Or did you LOSE it again?"

"N-no, no I have it right here," she assured him, taking said key out of her pocket to prove it. "Uh...S-see you the day after tomorrow."

With that, she left...The store was finally closed, and Duncan shook his head in annoyance as he went upstairs. That was where his private quarters were; he always found it more convenient to simply have his living space and business in the same building to save himself the hassle.

"Stupid stinkin' holiday..." he grumbled to himself as he removed the crooked antenna from his head and replaced it with an olive green night cap. "People makin' a mess of the store, askin' for money when it's s'posed to be the other way around. Not to mention it's almost IMPOSSIBLE nowadays to snag any hosts for the great and almighty Novisor; that's the only thing that really matters in this wretched world! Egh...Christmas can go suck an egg."

He changed into his night shirt, flipped the quilt off his bed and settled down for the night.

"Exhausting it what it is...At least the place is closed tomorrow, so I can get a break from all the bull-"

Click...

For a moment, Duncan thought he heard the sound of a door closing on the ground floor. But he brushed it off as his imagination pretty quickly; no one would want to bother breaking into a store in weather like this, right?

"...Hm," he hummed. "...Oh well, it was probably the wind. I need to hit the hay."

With that, the coal-colored crewmate drifted off to sleep. The only sound that could be heard in the establishment now was the quiet ticking of the clock on Duncan's bedroom wall.

Tick, tock, tick, tock...

The hour went by, and Duncan was blissfully unaware of the passage of time. The moon rose higher and higher above the earth, casting a blue glow onto its white blanket. And all the while, the clock continued to strum along.

Tick, tock...

Tick, tock...

Tick, tock...

TICK, TOCK...

TICK, TOCK...

Duncan woke up once his old ears could make out the growing sound. Why was the ticking so LOUD all of a sudden!? He looked up at the spot on the wall where his clock was...

...Only to find that it was gone.

"What the...?"

And not only that, but the ticking wasn't even COMING from his room! Rather, it was coming from somewhere beyond his open bedroom door.

Fully convinced he should have heeded the sound of the door opening before going to bed earlier, Duncan lit the candle on his nightstand and picked its holder up by the handle before sliding quietly out of bed. He tiptoed towards his door and peered into the hallway...It was dark; even the candle in his hand could just barely light the path in front of him. But the ticking of the clock could still be heard, and...was that MUSIC Duncan heard alongside it?

"...Something's fishy about this," he said to himself, daring to traverse further into the dark hall...The candle positioned well in front of him now picked up nothing suspicious, so the black figure decided to make his way down the staircase and onto the ground floor. THAT was where the sound seemed to be coming from.

Upon reaching the bottom step, he felt around the wall to his right for the light switch. When he finally felt it, he flicked it upwards to properly brighten the sales floor.

...And there, in the corner, he saw it.

A Christmas tree, fully decorated with colored lights and ornaments that sparkled shades of red and gold.

"What in the name of Novisor...? Where the heck did all THIS come from!? I don't celebrate...!"

Duncan trailed off when he saw something else at the foot of the tree...Presents. Three of them, to be exact. And each one was wrapped in colorful patterned paper and topped with a bow.

"...Huh," he huffed, curiosity now overtaking his anger. "Well, eh...I present's a present, I guess. Might as well see what's inside."

He reached for the present on the left; a red-wrapped package tied up with neat green ribbons. Slowly, Duncan slid the lid off and put it to the side, then leaned over and peered into the box...What he discovered inside was a sad-looking stuffed clown, complete with an outfit and painted-on tears.

"What...? This ain't any use to me. Did that stupid St. Nick guy stop at the wrong house or something-?"

SNAP

The lights suddenly went out. Duncan's eyes bugged out, startled.

"Huh!? Wh-who's there!?" he called out, certain there was someone messing with him at this point. "I'm not afraid to bust out the old machete if someone gets too close!"

He turned around, looking for whoever might be pulling this unfunny prank on him.

...And there, right behind him, Duncan was met with a mysterious door.

"Whoa..."

He didn't recognize the door at all...though he DID recognize the painting of a clown displayed across it, looking down at the plush in his hand again.

By now, Duncan was thoroughly unamused. He pounded against the door with an angry fist in attempt to ward off this strange jokester.

"Open this door and SHOW YOURSELF! If this is supposed to be some kind of prank, it's not funny! And you're not foolin' ANYONE! Come out and-!"

The door creaked open, slowly and eerily, as though some unseen force had turned the knob from inside.

"...So that's how you wanna do things," Duncan sneered. "Well, if this'll lead me to whoever's trying to pull this little stunt, then do let me in."

He walked through the open doorway, hand still holding his candle in front of him...It wasn't doing a very good job of keeping the room lit anymore. There wasn't even any moonlight coming in through the windows to aid him. It was almost as though there...weren't any windows at all.

"Helloooo~?" the black bean called out innocently, as though to lure out the perpetrator. "Anyone near? I'm coming in the doorway...just like you wanted me too, you little cretin."

"Over here."

"Gyack-!"

He wasn't exactly expecting a response...Nor had he expected to see another gift box in this large, dark room with him.

Upon closer inspection, the box had a wind-up handle on its side, just like any jack-in-the-box would...Figuring it would get him closer to figuring this mystery out, Duncan cranked it and played the whole tune through.

"Ghee whillickers, how'd this thing even GET in here? It's big enough to fit a person inside."

SPRING

"...Hello, Duncan."

"AHH! There IS  a person inside!!"

He staggered and fell backwards when someone sprang out of the box and greeted him...someone who looked a lot like the clown on the wall, and in his hand. And come to think of it, in spite of the load of makeup on the figure's face, he still looked somewhat...familiar.

"I...what the...who ARE you?"

"I didn't suppose you'd recognize me..." the stranger sniffled, seemingly wiping at one of the tears painted on his face. "...I'm the sad ghost of Christmas past. And I'm here to remind you of days gone by."

"Oh. THIS, ey? As if I didn't read my dose of Dickens when I was in school," Duncan muttered. "...Okay then, funny face. I'll humor myself with you for a while before I decided to deal with you properly. Our visorless lord knows I'm not dumb enough to get the police down here with what I'm planning...Pray tell. HOW exactly do you intend to show me visions of the past?"

"Why, with this mirror of course," the clown replied, showing one to him from out of his pocket...It was painted gold, with intricately carved woodwork around the reflective glass.

"Hrm...Why a mirror? So I can reflect  back on things? Heh heh heh...eh...heh...?"

As Duncan stared at his own smirking face in the reflection, he raised his eyebrow a bit when he saw it begin to waver and distort. It was as though he was now looking at his reflection through rippling water instead of solid glass.

The rippling slowed, and it revealed an image of the old crewmate looking into it...But he stepped back in surprise when he saw it. This was not the reflection he saw in the mirror yesterday. No...

...This was an image from DECADES ago.

"Why...I...that's me," he recognized. "I was barely ten when I last saw that face in the mirror...Good lookin' little scrap I was, ey?"

"I'm certain you would think so..." the stranger remarked. "But take a closer look."

"Is the way I'm lookin' not good enough for ya, ghosty?" Duncan snapped. "...Hey, wait a minute. This ain't just my reflection anymore. What is this, a home video!? How'd you get ahold of this!?"

"I didn't...It's all straight from your own memory, Duncan."

Now enthralled by this trip down Memory Lane, the coal-colored figure continued to analyze what was happening in the mirror...He remembered that home; written on the mailbox outside was the family name...or names, as they were: Swearinger-Cortez-O'Barclay-Gottenheimer. The fact it all fit onto one mailbox even in such small print was unbelievable. And so was the fact that the family was DIRT  poor in spite of all four members of the polyamorous quadruple working jobs to support the household and just one  child.

This particular Christmas morning, there was a scraggly old twig of a tree in the corner of the living room that might as well have been Charlie Brown's. But it wasn't like he would have known that at the time, considering they had no television. The couch was old and worn with patches on its corners, and there was only one present beneath the pathetic little tree. Duncan watched as his younger self picked it up and opened it, his four parents watching in anticipation.

"...A radio antenna?" he asked, pulling the scrap of metal out of the box, examining it.

"Yes, yes, my boy," his father confirmed. "I'm...afraid it's all we could manage. Everything else me, Mother, Ma and Pa earned up this month had to go into the mortgage, the mold problem in the bathroom and Pa's emergency root canal. But you're a creative young chap; I'm sure you can find a way to make it work out in your favor somehow!"

Young Duncan was silent for a minute. A flurry of mixed emotions blew around in his head like a blizzard of snow before he finally responded.

"Well...I guess I'll have to. Thank you Father, Mother, Ma, Pa...I'll do the best I can."

He left the room, trying to ass a skip to his step in order to hide his disappointment from them.

"So you see...It wasn't always this way," the ghost said to him. "There was once a time you were grateful for the things you had, and wanted to make it known to those around you. Despite having gotten so little that Christmas, you still tried to make them feel appreciated."

"THAT'S not why I acted that way!" Duncan spat. "I was LIVID  by the fact that all I got for Christmas was a radio antenna! I only acted the way I did so they wouldn't suspect that I was starting to plan their MURDERS over it! That was the final nail in the coffin, lemme tell ya...I'd had more than enough of being so stinkin'  poor all my life, all because of THEM. So I vowed to myself that I would rise above them one day. And I promised myself that once I made more than all four of them combined, I would be back for my revenge...I'm certain the great Novisor thoroughly appreciated my four-course offering when that time came."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, WAIT," the stranger interrupted. "You killed your FAMILY?!?"

"Of course I did, you old ninny! What was family ever good for in this world?"

"Ohhhh  my God. How is this even worse than what I imagined from you...?" he continued, pinching his furrowed brow in frustration. "Welp, guess we're onto Phase 2. I'll see you in the depths of Hell, you rotten disgusting old man."

"HEY!! Who do you think you're you callin-!?"

POOF

Before Duncan could grab the figure in the box, he ducked back into it and shut the lid atop himself before disappearing into a puff of lavender smoke.

"Huh? Ohhh, okay. So there's some PROFESSIONAL funny business going on here, huh? Well, just you wait until I-"

He was interrupted yet again by another blaring sound in his ears.

"AGH! What the...a music box?"

If not for its piercing volume, it would have been a jaunty little jingle that was coming from the second present box behind him.

"Whah...? I'm by this stupid tree again?" he realized. "...Alright fine. If I open the box, will it SHUT UP?"

His question was answered in the positive when he pulled the lid off...The music stopped, and he was now met with another toy: a stuffed orange crewmate donning a tiny present box on its head, a string of twinkling fairy lights wrapped around its otherwise plain body.

"...Weird."

Duncan turned to see if the door was still there...It was, but its artwork had changed again to feature the second toy he'd unboxed, looking very much like the plushie in his hand.

"Alright, I'll give you credit, whoever's doing this," he remarked as he went through the door. "You pull an elaborate practical joke. That doesn't mean I'm not still gonna clobber you, though..."

This room was dark as well...though in the pitch black, he swore he saw vague silhouettes scattered across where the floor was meant to be.

"Well...at least it's better than boring nothingness-"

MAMA

"GYACK!"

He stepped on something, and looked down...He could see the floor clearly now as he stared at the baby doll his foot had trodden upon.

"Oh. It's just a toy...Darn it, for a minute I was hoping it'd have been real."

As he shook his head in mild disappointment, Duncan looked around the now visible floor...There were a LOT of toys here, it turned out; a couple of rocking horses, a few balls strewn about. But most  of them were baby dolls, all of different models and exosuit colors.

"...Odd," he remarked. "...Alright, so I'm guessing that the ghost of Christmas present is going to show up next?"

"Wow! Someone aced their British Literature class, I see. Maybe? I don't know for certain."

Once again, the figure Duncan was now met with resembled the toy in his hand but on a much bigger scale. A string of glimmering red and green lights interwound around the spirit before him, who also donned that same present hat.

"Guess I was right," the black crewmate remarked. "So, is my present going to be getting to step all over these baby dolls? There's more than enough for that here!"

"Yes, there certainly IS more than enough," the marigold spectre nodded. "...Which is what you make within two month's time, for sure. And most certainly enough to spare for your hard-working employee...Come hither, and look."

The spirit pointed down to another box sitting on the floor...Though this one wasn't a present box.

"Ooh! An old school TV! I always wanted one of those when I was younger...But as I'm sure you're aware, I was stuck with THIS cheap thing you see here on my head today."

"What a shame...At least you got anything at all, though. Why don't you press the power button on it and see what's going on in the world today?"

"Really, ey? Well, don't mind if I do."

He pressed the large grey button on the right side of the box...The TV screen flickered as it powered on, and no sooner than it solidified that it displayed the familiar image of the pink crewmate.

"What the...?"

"Tell me, Duncan..." the spirit addressed him solemnly. "...What do you see?"

"That's Dum, dumb-dumb. How would I ever forget someone as scatterbrained as THAT?"

"Scatterbrained? Perhaps...But it's at least better than being a greedy old fusspot. And it's a shame, too...She wanted to use her final paycheck before Christmas to give everyone in her family gifts. A vinyl figure for her brother, a gourmet chocolate assortment for her mother...And for her father! Why, she was going to use what was left to finish paying off his car. Have you ever imagined a gift so generous, from a child to their parent? It would have made his entire first half of the new year. But alas...It is not to be. And it's all because of you."

"Sounds like a boot-kisser to me," Duncan sneered. "Wanna know what I  gave my parents for Christmas when I was grown up? A laptop! With a certain hacked game on it..."

"Oh, but you must understand, Duncan...What goes around comes around."

"Whadaya mean?"

"You brought Dum to these awful circumstances," the ghost informed him. "And now, something terrible will be coming to you. Look at yourself for a moment, Duncan...You have wasted so much of your life chasing after things that you thought would make you happy. Riches. Vengeance. Even blood. You attained them all. And yet, it's still not enough to fill the black hole that is your heart. You always want more. And you care not whom you hurt to get it...You care not whom shall pay the price for your sins. And soon enough, along this path of destruction, you will lose whom you care for most."

"Pftsh. Whom I care for most...The only person I care for on this stupid earth is my own self, because I'm the only one who gets me!"

The spirit began to glow brighter, the red bulbs adorning him taking on a fiery scarlet hue.

"...Then prepare to bid yourself goodbye."

"Wait, huh-?"

POOF

The spectre disappeared just like the last spirit in a puff of smoke, grey this time instead of lavender...Duncan appeared before the tree again, hands shaking.

"What, I...whah...Wh-why am I...trembling like this...?"

It took him a moment to realize what was the matter...He had seen victims of the cult he was once such a great part of decapitated before his very eyes as they plead in vain for their lives to be spared. He had seen the depths of Novisor's underworld with his own eyes and not even flinched at the sight of it. But this was different...He was not in power here. Not directing kills, not enforcing the cult's plans. No...He was not in control.

And for the first time in perhaps his entire life, he was unsettled by something. Shaken.

...He was frightened.

"...Maybe these really ARE ghosts," he realized. "Lord Novisor knows they're as real as himself. But I'm supposed to be on THEIR side! What...what's gone wrong?"

He turned around, expecting to have been put back by the tree to open the third present.

...But all he saw was the darkness of the room.

"I'm...still here."

And then, out from the darkness, a new sound made itself known.

GONG

The low, panging sound of a church bell echoed across the room from somewhere in the unknown blackness. And yet, in spite of its echoing, it sounded so eerily close. Almost as though he were right underneath its steeple. It rang again, and again and again in its low, solemn tone.

...They certainly didn't foretell a wedding.

"No...No, this...can't be the end just yet," Duncan realized. "I'm not done yet. I-is it because the last sacrifice went awry!? I'll make up for it! I can still make up for it, I can find someone new, I PROMISE-!"

Click

...The moment the bells stopped, the coal-colored bean saw a beacon of light flashing in the dark void. Light which appeared to be coming from...Was that a window of some kind? Yes, a window on a door. And the faint sound of a piano played in the other room. He was drawn towards it like a moth to a flame, and slowly, steadily, approached the warm glow emanating from the room.

Duncan opened the door and went inside...This wasn't any room in his shop that he recognized. In spite of the yellow light coming from the bulb on the ceiling, it was grimy and cold-looking. The walls were made of dirty bricks, and the wooden doorframe he'd entered through was rotting away. In the center of the room, there sat an old dusty piano which had now fallen silent...

...And at its feet sat the last remaining present.

Duncan was hesitant to step closer at first, but his curiosity got the better of him and tempted the old man to creep forward and kneel down to open the third and final gift box.

Upon removing the lid, he saw that the gift was wrapped in a deep, sort of forest green cloth, as though whoever wrapped it wanted to keep it from breaking. The old cultist reached into the folds of the fabric and felt something hard and plastic inside. He pulled it out and beheld...

...A small wind-up toy. A little brown-clad crewmate in a matching flatcap.

He recognized that image all too well.

"It's you...The last host," he recalled. He tried to turn the key on the back, but found that it was stuck.

"Hm. Broken..." he mused. "Well, if this thing doesn't work right, then maybe the last ghost will be whittled down enough for me to make a bargain with-"

CRASH!

The light in the room flashed and flickered at the sound of the lightning bolt, and then dimmed...When it came back on, Duncan noticed the the rest of the room seemed a lot brighter than the spot he was standing in, as though there was a shadow cast over him.

...A shadow, he realized.

He turned slowly, and jumped back when he saw the new face in the room. It was none other than the image of the last host himself, brown exosuit and flat cap hidden beneath a forest green cloak. He carried a massive scythe in one hand...and an angry glimmer in his visor.

"Having trouble with that trinket of yours, Duncan?"

The figure's voice was low and foreboding, enough to send a cold chill down Duncan's spine.

"Y-yes, I...can't make it work, it seems," he replied, as though answering him casually would help to mask his fear. "Erm...A-are you the ghost of Christmas future, I assume?"

"Oh, no. I'm not a ghost," the being answered him. "I...am Mortality. And I've come for YOU  on this Christmas Eve."

"...No," Duncan plead. "No, no I'm not ready yet! I-!"

"Oh, Duncan. You must understand..."

The entity's voice suddenly took on a gentle, almost fatherly tone as he spoke down to the old man...It made him much more uncanny and terrifying.

"...No one is ever ready. But this is it. And there is no way to change it...Just like everything else in this world, we were born out of dust. And to dust one day we shall return. It has always been, and always will be this way, my friend."

"Th-that's not true. I made a deal with him! He...he sent you, didn't he?"

"Who? The DEMON you're affiliated with?" the cloaked figure asked him, a sneer embedded within his voice. "He didn't send me...He didn't have to. I came to claim your life myself...And oh, what a life you've lead, Duncan. Constantly running away from your problems. Running away from ME. Running away from...even yourself. But that all ends tonight."

And that was when Duncan realized what was happening. The spirits in his home, the magic, the recollections shown to him before his very eyes...

"This...this is no prank," he shuddered. "You planned all of this...and you've come back to...to..."

"You understand now," the cloaked entity snarled. "I'm here to make you suffer a fraction of the pain which you inflicted upon me."

"I...I-I-I'm sorry. I'm sorry, I'll never harm you or anyone else you know ever again, just please...let me go!"

The cloaked figure laughed, loudly and with great menace.

"Oh, Duncan. It's FAR too late for that. And even so, I know deep down that you're not sorry for what you did. No...You're only sorry that you've been caught. By me. By my followers...by the passage of time. Which reminds me..."

"No..."

"We  don't have any time left here, either," the cloaked figure concluded. "For you see, your future has been set in stone...And it lies right behind that door."

The spectre pointed at the opposite end of the room, and Duncan looked to see yet a third door...Similar to the last two, this one depicted the entity he'd spoken with on the wood with paint, dark and cast in the shadow of his hood.

"Fate comes to us all, Duncan," the entity told him, gently nudging him in front of him and towards the door. "...So don't keep it waiting."

Duncan stared at the door for a good several seconds, as though stalling the inevitable.

"What...what's going to happen to me in there?"

He turned to face Mortality again.

...Only to find that he was gone.

There was no one left to turn to. To ask a question, to save him from this nightmare...He had no one.

...He was alone.

"What do I do...?" he asked himself. "This is unlike anything I've ever been up against. I have no army, no weapons to save me...Novisor would have surely come to my rescue by now...if he really needed me...So what do I do now...?"

In all reality, he only had two choices. He could either stay here in this dark, dingy room indefinitely in vain hope that someone would find him...

...Or he could see what was beyond that door.

"...Ashes to ashes and dust to dust," Duncan recited. "But...if this is the whole Christmas Carol shpiel, maybe he'll give me a second chance still."

A spark of hope flashed in the dark void of his mind, and he made his way closer to the door, hand outstretched to open it as he approached.

Yeah. If I'm nothing more than a pawn to that visorless...CREATURE, then I bet I can find something else to put my time into! Maybe I could use some of my tech ingenuity to make some brand new inventions, and REALLY make an impact!"

...He now stood right in front of the door. Was he really doing this...?

Yes. Yes he was. He placed his hand on the golden knob and turned it.

"Maybe I can make this miserable world a little...less miserable. Maybe I could lend a hand to some of those other kids in this world that were as bad off as I was, or even worse!"

He pushed the door open, and was met with a flash of white light.

"A light...? Does that mean it's true? Or is this...the light of Heaven raining down on me?"

He stared into it, eyes numb to what would otherwise make them protest in discomfort.

"...There's only one way to find out."

And so, Duncan made a leap of faith into the white glow, embracing whatever was to come...He shut his eyes, but he could still see the light around him. And in the light, visions flashed before him in his head.

The mournful clown of Christmas past.

The jolly plush of Christmas present.

The just figure of Mortality.

He saw them all.

...And then he saw, even with his eyes shut, the light around him beginning to fade.

His feet touched firm ground. The white light around him softened into a warm indoor glow...The smell of his store came back to him.

"Huh...?"

He dared to open his eyes again...The familiar layout of his sales floor made itself known. He looked down and patted himself down, JUST to make sure he was still corporeal and not a ghost now himself...He wasn't. He was here, he was back!"

"Ha...! Oh, th-thank goodness. Everything's back to normal now! And...what day is it?"

He looked up at his calendar.

"Christmas...it's Christmas Day, and I'm here! HA HA! Merry Christmas! Merry Christmas to all...!"

Everything was as it should be. He was back in his beloved store, his gadgets lined the shelves, the sweet sweet smell of peppermint was wafting in from the open window, and...What's this? DUM was still here? Yes, yes that was her! Sweeping the floor!"

"Ha...! Dum!" he called out to her. 

"Hm...?"

She rose her head, her back still facing him.

"You don't know just how HAPPY I am to see you here! A-and on Christmas Day, nonetheless!"

"Ghee whiz, boss. You really DO sound happy!" Dum remarked, turning around to face him.

...Duncan's heart stopped.

"Even though there's nothing to be happy about."

"Wh...I-I...Dum, what...?"

Her visor was gone. There wasn't even a hole or a scar which indicated one had once been there. It was just...flat and blank.

GONG

The sound of bells came back, ringing just above Duncan's head.

GONG

"No..."

GONG

"It...it can't be. B-but I can still change, I can-!"

GONG

The doorbell rang, just barely audible under the ominous chimes.

GONG

Duncan rushed over to answer it, hoping whoever was behind it could save him as he flung it open.

GONG

"Agh...! It's you, the cancer donation kid! Y-you've got to help me, something has gone horribly wrong and I-"

GONG

...Cub didn't respond. There was no visor on HIS face either.

GONG

"No...no, no no, what's HAPPENING!?"

GONG

But he DID hand something to Duncan...A slip of paper instead of a money jar.

GONG

...With nothing else to do, Duncan decided to take the paper and see what it said, hoping it would offer him some instructions on how to escape from all of this.

GONG

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OBITUARY:

FUNERAL ANNOUNCEMENT: Duncan Swearinger Cortez O'Barclay Gottenheimer
1938-2023

Duncan Swearinger Cortez O'Barclay Gottenheimer passed away on December 25th at approximately 3:00 a.m. Duncan is preceded by his father William Swearinger, his mother Maria Cortez, his stepfather Calan O'Barclay and his stepmother Edith Gottenheimer. He is survived by no known living relatives. Duncan was born in Toledo Ohio October 27th, 1938 where he lived for many years until the deaths of his four caretakers, which authorities still believe he was involved in. He fled from his hometown proceeding this event and disappeared from both public and investigative eyes for decades until his recently deceased corpse was discovered in a converted shack in Crewville Massachusetts, where he reportedly sold hand-crafted electronics embedded with dangerous malware. Formal services have not been arranged, but a burial plot has been prepared in Folivora Cemetery for the cadaver's arrival. 

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"...No."

Black ooze began to seep out from the tops of the walls and flow down into the first floor. It covered Duncan's devices, his counters, his wall art.

...And it was slowly closing in on him.

"No...No, no, no no no no NO NO!!!"

He backed himself further and further into one of the far corners of his room until there was no hope of escaping it. The dreadful tar pooled into the floor, hid the walls and doused the lights and kept flowing closer and closer to Duncan until it had encompassed EVERYTHING...

Everything...Except for a single window leading outside.

For a moment, Duncan saw a chance to escape. If he leapt through this void of dark ooze, perhaps he could escape his home and find someone to help him.

...But that feeling of hope was DASHED to bits when he saw who was on the other side of the window, staring right back at him.

"...Mortality."

The moment he uttered his name, the cloaked figure opened the window, came inside and quickly, suddenly, GREW into a towering MONSTER with ragged teeth and decaying, bony hands. It laughed at him, reveling in Duncan's horror as he cowered before him like a cornered rat.

A delicious sight to behold in the reaper's dead, haunting eyes.

"THIS IS IT, MY HAPLESS FRIEND," the creature snarled down at him. "EVERYTHING YOU HAVE EVER DONE HAS LEAD YOU TO THIS MOMENT...AND THIS TIME, THERE IS NO ESCAPING IT."

"I..."

There really was nothing he could do.

"I...I can change. I can change, I can make my time here worthwhile, I promise! Just...give me one more chance!"

"OH, YOU STILL DON'T UNDERSTAND, DO YOU? THERE ARE  NO MORE CHANCES. AND LOOK!"

Behind the towering monstrosity which Mortality had become, there stood two more familiar figures...The ghosts of the past and of the present, staring down at Duncan, just as entertained by his fear as the cloaked figure was.

"EVERYONE  IS HERE TO WITNESS YOUR DEMISE!"

"What...wh-what are you...going to do to me?"

The three entities chuckled coldly at him, and the cloaked monster reached into his cloak and pulled something out...

...A fourth present. And this one had a tag on it with Duncan's name scrawled onto it in black ink.

"GO AHEAD...MERRY CHRISTMAS, DUNCAN."

Seeing as he had no other choice, the coal-colored crewmate reached out and took the small gift box, hands trembling as they tried not to touch the monster's rotting hands. A small part of him still hoped that this really WAS some sort of elaborate prank. That this was all just a ruse to get him to change his nefarious ways...But that part was drowning in his own dread. And it sank faster the more Duncan slid the lid off the fourth and final present box to reveal...

"...An alarm clock?"

It sat there in the box on its back. It had already been wound, as it was ticking away. Tick tock, tick tock...

...Tick tock.

Just like what he heard when all of this began. A grim reminder of the passage of time, of his life as it slipped away from him and into-

RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIING

It sounded off.

A wave of warmth set into Duncan's wrinkles. His cold and stiff expression suddenly softened and drooped as the skin beneath his exosuit turned slowly to sludge and began to drip onto the ground in front of him. A bloodcurdling SCREAM emitted from the mortal's throat before it had the chance to liquify as well, which then turned into a gurgling, guttural sound that would have chilled any bystander who might have overheard it to the core.

...But there were no bystanders. No one was around to hear his final cry as it was overshadowed by the twelfth and final chime of the bells.

GONG

As the clock on the wall struck three, Duncan's heart sloshed into the red and grey puddle with the rest of his molten upper half and fell silent forever.

____________________________________________________________

...

____________________________________________________________

Morning came quietly, the cheerful sound of winter birds gradually filling the air to announce that Christmas Day had arrived. Children awoke to rush to their presents, families gathered together and joy was abundant in each household on the block.

...None were aware of the grizzly image of a melted corpse in the small store hidden in the corner of town.

Except, of course, for the five crewmates standing just outside of it, who knew of EVERYTHING which had transpired in there the previous night.

"...Ghee whiz, Aiden. You really did a number on that on that guy," Player remarked, wiping the makeup off his face with a damp rag. "How...what exactly did you DO to him?"

"Oh, Engineer helped me make something. I took one of those small uranium compartments from the Skeld's Storage; spares for the reactor. And he helped my focus its output into a beam hidden in that clock that pointed directly at his face."

"So you effectively MELTED the entire front of his body?" MrEgg asked.

"Pretty much."

"Yeesh. That's pretty brutal," the red crewmate shuddered. "But I guess he kind of deserved it, huh?"

"It's about as bad as what he put ME through after all, isn't it?" Aiden told him. "Not to mention the ones who came beforehand...Gotta admit though, I was also tempted to just use that super strength in Wizard's ghoul spell to take him and pull him apart by hand."

"Honestly, your face-melting idea was best one," Wizard agreed. "To think all I was gonna do was turn 'im into a leech once you scared him enough and then 'ave you step on 'im. Wouldn't 'ave been anywhere NEAR as long and painful as what you pulled!"

"And hey, Dum," Player addressed his sister. "Nice job finding out where his place was! You really helped us track him down with that fake job hunt."

"D'oh, I was just happy to help is all...and maybe see some evil old fart get their just desserts for kicks and grins, why not?"

"Um, guys...We DID just kill someone," MrEgg realized. "Or at least YOU did, Aiden. Don't you think we should get out of here in case the police decide to frequent this place?"

"Yeah, but I wouldn't worry much about them knocking on our doors," the brown crewmate assured him as they trudged through the snow, leaving the old gadget shop behind. "He is...well...WAS  wanted by the FBI anyway, so I doubt they'd give us any trouble even if they did find out. Now come on, let's get home before our families wake up...I can't wait to see my dad's reaction to the present I got him!"

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https://youtu.be/_qfw31BX2_g

Welp, I hope you enjoyed this story, everyone. Would you believe that it was first conceived LAST year? I didn't finish it in lieu of a different Christmas fic that took me less time, so I'm glad I finally got it out here.

Merry Christmas, everyone! Oh, and be careful not to get visited by three ghosts this year. XD