"Santa Claus?" The portly man in the exact costume you'd expect asked hopefully as he sat opposite me in the containment cell.

"Sorry, taken." I said, utterly bored, wishing I hadn't drawn the short straw when it came to who had to run the office during the holidays.

"Saint Nicholas?" He straightened up, then leant forward as far as the restraints would let him.

"Taken too. So is "Saint Nick" and just "Nick", buddy, you're not the first supe to LARP as Santa, and most of them are better at the job than you." I replied pointedly, drawing up a register of known Santa impersonators (the ones with superpowers).

He looked distraught at the sheer length, the display helpfully going into a scrolling feed that ended up resembling the credit roll for an old movie, before one dude and a dog could make them.

Frankly speaking this was the saddest I'd seen him, he'd been entirely nonchalant about the "customizations" he'd performed on human and animal alike to make his elves and reindeer.

"Look, we're just going to use your real name for now, Mr. Smith. You'll have plenty of time to think of a more appropriate pseudonym or cape name later." I explained, getting up to stretch my aching back. I was severely regretting the display of machismo that had me hauling our Christmas tree up a flight of stairs without assistance, this was before I had serious augments.

"But- but.. Look, I'll pay, I'll leave you a present!" He wheedled. I quickly checked the machine that confirmed he wasn't using his powers. I wasn't in range, he had to touch me, but I liked my nose and didn't want anything close to the tumor he'd given his 'reindeer'.

"I'm in a bad mood, and this can be easily construed as an attempt to bribe a UN official. Look, "Santa", the only reason you're not in real trouble, is because we think you can potentially reverse what you did to those poor kids. The animals, well, they've already been put down, those charges will stick."

"It's not fair! I paid them, even drew up employment documents, it was above minimum wage!" He cried out, tugging at his matted beard.

I felt an alert pop up, the sound of heavy boots barely audible as a Rapid Response Team went by. But it was for an adjacent cell, not my headache yet.

I already have one, thanks.

"You should have used a better AI, it would have helpfully pointed out that gross body modification in a minor requires parental assent, as well as medical oversight. Seriously, elves? If you want to be a proper, licensed Santa, then you need temporal manipulation to ensure gross coverage of your geographical remit, ideally Ex Nihilo powers to make the presents, and if you're making moral judgements about who's naughty or nice, IRB oversight. You used to be a biochemist, you ought to know that."

He sagged further, looking as if all his hopes and dreams had been dashed. Dasher had been put down by a FEMA official.

"I have money. I could buy presents. I know it's not ideal, but it's in the spirit of things, right?"

"You should have used some of that money for a pilot's license, or for getting approval for the illegal modifications you made to a sleigh. An unprotected graviton engine causes brain damage, your animals were concussed and half of them had prion diseases. What were you thinking?"

He started sobbing, great big heaves that made him shake, tears dripping down into his beard. Against my better judgment, I felt sorry for him, and stood up to walk closer and pat him on the back.

"Hey. It's going to be okay, the Legal team says they'll let you off with a warning and a slap drone if you manage to fix the kids."

He wiped himself using the tissues proferred. I made sure he threw them in the biohazard basket.

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"It's what Drew would have wanted. Christmas was always what he looked forward to. I couldn't be there for him when he passed, I couldn't be there-"

He started crying again, I stood there helplessly, in other circumstances I'd have considered calling our staff psychic over to give him a mood boost, but the rules were clear, psychic modification wasn't allowed for suspects in processing, something something due process and compos mentes.

"I'll try and have you discharged as soon as possible. Your psych eval didn't go too poorly, but you need to get an automated med dispenser and make sure you listen to the alerts, alright?"

He nodded quietly.

"Let's go over the charges one last time, I'm going to knock off as many as I can."

Terence Smith

Registered Biomancer

Class 2

Charges (in order of severity):

1) Unlawful physical modification of minors using metahuman powers.

2) Use of an illegally modified antigrav engine in residential areas.

3) Unregistered and reckless modification of sub-sapient animals.

4) Insufficient adherence to biohazard protocols, second violation.

5) Metahuman synthesis of controlled substances.

6) Unlawful distribution of controlled substances to minors-

"You gave the elves, sorry, the children, coke?" I asked incredulously.

"He asked for it! Then the others all wanted some, I didn't want to object, they worked harder."

7) Failure to acquire updated FAA certification, previously approved only for ultralight and small drones.

8) Willful failure to adhere to mandated medication regime (Metahuman)

"Did the drugs cause side effects? Why did you stop taking them?" I asked him.

"They made me sleepy, I was getting fat too. I know, you're wondering about that, but this-" He pointed at his belly- "is after I lost some weight."

"I'll update your script, but please, for the love of God, just talk to a doctor or a licensed AI next time."

He nodded again, looking contrite. Good, that gave me the excuse of using "has insight into his disease" as a justification for applying for a reduced sentence.

I made a big show of striking off the last entry, and then reducing the severity of several others. Still not enough to get rid of the slap drone, but at least he wouldn't be held in prison for more than a few weeks. Presuming he could actually turn the elves back into normal children, without giving them more prion diseases.

A few minutes later, and we were done, I sent Mr. Smith off to a minimum security holding cell, and wandered outside.

NO FURTHER CASES

Fucking finally, it was almost 10 pm. Shit, no, I'd have been done in ten minutes, I began to seethe at the waste of a perfectly good Christmas but then-

She popped into existence, looking at my frustrated expression with amusement.

"Sweetheart, it's still Christmas! Lighten up, it didn't get too late, or else I'd have taken us to a time zone where it wasn't over yet."

I tugged my scowl into something approximating a smile, and then gave her a proper hug. She immediately popped us back over home, with that blighted Christmas tree looming overhead.

The wall screen was displaying NORAD's Santa Tracker, which actually tracked several hundred of them in real time. Man, the guy on the East Coast must have been new, looks like he's a Speedster, the old one my parents used relied on temporary teleportation beacons.

There was a pyramid of presents ready, almost sufficient for a minor Pharaoh, and I grabbed a waiting cup of cocoa and joined her in unwrapping them. Truth be told, it used to be more fun as a kid, the joy of it was lost when I could have just ordered half of the shit myself with next day shipping.

Anjana gasped. "You didn't! I had my eye on that for so long!"

I chuckled, "Yeah, I thought you might like it". She spun around in the new dress, that sight (and the short glimpse of her as she changed into it) certainly helped cheer me up a bit.

I didn't tell her I had recruited her mom (and AI) in helping me pick that particular one out, let's not spoil the Christmas spirit.

I opened my first present, I could tell she'd wrapped this one.

"Cuban? Hell yeah!" I was about to light one up when I remembered her stance on smoking indoors. She smiled, placing a hand on my chest.

"Wait, are these authentic Santa presents? From a licensed Santa?" I pointed at the next one.

"Yup, thought it would be fun! He's newly licensed for Atlantis and Hawaii."

I was going to grumble about the unnecessary expense, but then decided to say fuck it, and unwrapped the one with my name on it.

A great big lump of coal. Several kilos worth, enough to restart Global Warming.

Motherfucker, next time I'm going to make sure she gets the Amazon-affiliated Santa.