Alceo Dentari always, always, always wore a suit because his father always told him, right from an early age, ‘Your clothes speak volumes about you as a person.” They were words that Alceo lived by. And as he was such an upstanding, respectable, honorable guy... there really was only one outfit for him.

So imagine the surprise when he turned to reveal a red, knitted, holiday themed jumper.

It made him look softer, more cuddly. But then a sweater with a giant reindeer’s face adorning the front of it could make a Bengal Tiger look like Garfield.

Almost as though it were designed to counteract the effects of the sweater, the only light in the room emanated from the fireplace Alceo had been staring into. The large mirrors spread around the room reflected the uneven, flickering light just enough to provide light to places it might not otherwise have reached, making Dentari's features discernible, yet masked at the same time.

“I do love Christmas,” Dentari said quietly as he stepped forwards to reveal three stockings hanging above the roaring fire he had just been admiring. “The family, the food, the fun... makes you feel like a big kid again, don’t it?”

A grunt of agreement came from the corner of the room where Dentari’s associates were decorating a pine tree that made the one in the Rockefeller Center look like a bonsai.

“Lookin’ good, fellas!” Dentari said with a smile, “Lookin’ good!”

It’s at that point one would be excused for assuming the associates’ next grunt would be of displeasure. After all, decorating a tree wasn’t exactly one of their regular tasks, nor was it written into their job descriptions. But they weren’t displeased, not in the slightest. Instead they seemed to genuinely appreciate the compliment.

“But...” Dentari said as he turned back to the camera, “It’s missin’ somethin’”

An observation that the associates agreed with as they nodded in unison.

“See that?” Dentari asked as he pointed to the top of the tree, “There ain’t nothin’ there... No star, no angel, nothin’... an' that ain't right. Every tree should have a little special somethin' on top, an' this one ain't no exception."

“These guys could hang all the baubles, all the tinsel, the angel hair, lights, ribbons, them little, tiny, individually wrapped chocolates... Anythin’ they wanted on them there branches,” Alceo said, pausing to shake his head, “But without that special somethin’ sat on top, it just ain’t a Christmas tree.”

“An’ that’s where I come in,” He continued, “It’s my job to provide the tree topper. Now I ain’t gonna head on out to no department store an’ pick up no run a’ the mill, mass produced, sparkly piece a’ crap.”

Alceo shook his head once again, “No, I’m gonna go pick myself up a one of a kind ornament.” He said, “‘Cause I’m gonna walk in here on Christmas mornin’ an’ i’m gonna admire the FIST a’ Defiance title belt as it hangs from the top a’ that tree.”

“Edward White is right on the money,” Alceo said, “‘Cause that FIST is the only thing worth a cent in Defiance right now. But that’s about all he’s right on, ‘cause he seems to think I don’t want that belt as much as him.”

Dentari bit his lip and crunched up his nose. He didn’t want to admit it, but there were no two ways about it, “My trophy cabinet is about as barren as the top a’ that tree right now.” He said grudgingly, “I ain’t gonna go into no reasons, ‘cause I already done that. But that FIST is gonna make the best possible first addition... rest assured, I’m takin’ that belt, an’ ain’t nothin’ gonna stop me.”

“The power a’ God coursin’ through Bronson Box, even in these holiest a’ days, ain’t gonna stop me,” Dentari continued, “Edward White’s ‘Scrooge McDuck’ set up ain’t gonna stop me.”

“People sing about deckin’ the halls with boughs a’ holly...” Dentari said, “I’m gonna deck the rope with Bronson Box an’ Edward White’s entrails.”

“An’ there will be blood, ‘cause I’ll be decoratin’ the ring with it.”

“Red an’ blue.”

Alceo turned and leaned against the fireplace, resting his head on his forearm, he watched as the flames danced, and listened as the wood crackled. Almost as though he were using the crackling as a metronome, he began to sing in a slow, quiet, thoroughly unnerving manner.

“Oh the weather outside is frightful
“But the fire is so delightful
“And since we’ve no place to go...

“Let it snow.

“Let it snow.

“Let.

“It.

“Snow.”

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