Another very lonely Christmas for a 20 year old mutant. Family who wanted him dead, constant reminders that he clearly needed more friends, or at least to next time have strong affectionate and somewhat physical feelings for someone not likely to be completely freaked out by the notion. He hadn't had to run away. Quite frankly, staying and saying no would have been fine. He could have handled that. The rather unhappy Australian spilled his coke slightly as he mis-stepped off the curb. So nice of that man to buy him some drinks for Christmas. Perhaps it had been the depressed wandering that had stimulated such acts of generosity, all he knew was that the sight that greeted his eyes totally made him reconsider accepting drinks from strangers.

Why... Is that tree moving.

Cafas had been sure the bottle had been sealed when he'd opened it. Regardless he put the bottle down and vowed that he would never drink 6 energy drinks and 3 bottles of cola again. And then, as they say, s**t got real. Cafas took a branch to the face as he attempted to walk past the trees he was sure were simply the figments of an over stimulated imagination. He sort of gathered, as he lay on the ground, that they were most certainly not.

Well, at least it's not a giant clay monster.

People finally caught up with the tree, and ran screaming past. Cafas stood and kept walking, following the screaming people. His face was lightly scratched by the experience. At least that had been a small one. It wasn't in his opinion, his issue, moving trees were not at all his field of expertise. He was rather sad, and he was not going to let adrenaline and heroics stop him being so. That was until another tree tried to kill him by stepping on him, and in the process of diving away, he ripped his jeans. "Oh that's just typical, first, one pair lost to coffee, now these ones ripped, you know what, go to hell tree!" Energy drink did odd things to Cafas; number one on that list was to make him incredulously irrational. After all, he was abusing a tree. Mood swings were another, now he was angry. Very angry. Wondering if he'd turn green angry. Over jeans. Cafas approached a man hole, lifted the dense steel plate that covered it and went to work. It became an axe. A bloody big axe at that. Not for the first time he was glad man hole covers were made of ridiculously high amounts of steel. A chainsaw would have been preferable, and an industrial wood chipper.

I LIKED these jeans!

The tirade of swearing that followed would have made the most foul mouthed of sailors cringe. The tree didn't seem to care. Cafas chased it, axe held in two hands to support its weight. Unfortunately, even given the slow pace with which the trees moved their... legs, he supposed was the right word, their sheer size and leg length made it hard for Cafas to keep up, let alone gain ground on the one in particular he was chasing. He rounded a corner onto the Rockefeller plaza and... Suddenly, trees, thousands of them. mostly just entering the space, some already there. People ran for their lives. Some fell into the advancing forest and disappeared, screaming. Well that was just too bad for them in some ways. In others he did sort of feel obliged to help. But the trees didn't seem overly aggressive. Blinded to this by anger, Cafas finally caught up to his nemesis tree. He hefted the axe back and swung his newly made toy at the culprit of his jeans rip as hard as he could. The very sharp blade sunk into the tree. Chunks of bar splintered away from the impact point, and the axe firmly jammed itself into the wood. Cafas cursed the shoddy angle as he tried to pull the axe out. The tree however, decided then was a good time to play squash the Cafas. This time, it didn't just step, it stamped, and cracked the pavement it was standing on very thoroughly. Cafas, who hadn't expected such a reaction from a tree, escaped just in time. He grabbed his axe handle again and yanked the blade free as the tree took a kick at him. He took the opportunity to run away. He ran through the trees, hoping the crowd would stop the larger tree he had attacked. Unfortunately, it only seemed to anger all the others as it ran past them behind him. Ahead he saw a hardware store, bars on the windows. Through the doors he ran and as far from the tree as he could get. Surely it couldn't get inside. He blurred past someone, then chainsaws, then someone else on his way to the back of the store.

Truly heroic.

>> ”Rupert. An effing tree just stepped on Lee’s Christmas present.”

“Medium.” Rupert returned the greeting, his eyes on the shelves. “They stepped on my effing car.”

He picked the biggest, baddest chainsaw they had. He didn’t follow Tarin to the register, or wait on the stunned clerk. That kind of thing was for sobber, sissier men. Rupert shouldered his way in front—he’d gotten here first, damnit—slapped his money down, and kept walking.

The box he left on the floor, its Do Not Operate Machinery While Under the Influence warning facing the polished concrete. An empty gasoline can rolled past it a moment later as he topped off his new friend with its own drink of choice.

“Coming?” He said, with a backwards glance over shoulder and saw.

Rupert stepped through the doors, revving for Treemageddon.

It had been easier than they had expected to unearth themselves. Just like in the stories, they were able to move their roots enough to walk. And walk they did. For miles and miles they followed the faint whispers of their father's voice.

Just like in the stories, the landscape changed. From forest to farm field, from field to houses, from houses to giant shiny houses that touched the sky. If the trees thought they were entering the realm of giants, it didn't change their course a twigs breadth. They were almost there.

The little humans that inhabited the giant city seemed less then welcoming. Some of them screamed and ran, some picked up harmless looking little sticks out of toppled vehicles. Some ran into stores to hide.

The trees ignored them, focused solely on getting to their destination. It was just a little more difficult now with all these colorful moving rocks to climb over.

Then things started getting ugly. The little humans started getting upset that the trees were in their city and some started fighting back. When trees were injured, they turned to face their attacker, swatting at them with branches to get them to stop. Sometimes the swats were enough to send the little people flying and the trees went back to their march. When the swatting didn't work, brother sometimes joined with brother to help fend off the attackers.

The trees didn't like being hurt, but they were trying to be brave like the trees in the legends their father had told them as saplings.

“It's a mission,” Katrina had told Carrick. She'd had to tell him that so he'd come shopping with her, but it was also the truth. She was on a mission to buy one last Christmas present, the one for her mom. She had gone shopping earlier, with said mom, but, for obvious reasons, hand't been able to pick up everything she needed for the upcoming holiday on that trip.

The trouble was, even at this late date, she had no idea what to get. So they were walking along the street peering into windows, Katrina for present ideas, Carrick (probably) for the shop lifters that Katrina had claimed were running rampant at this time of year. It was getting more and more difficult to fight the holiday crowds, though. It almost was impossible to walk forward with what seemed like a stampede trying to go the opposite direction.

“Run, the trees are attacking!”

Katrina looked at at the hysterical woman, then glanced meaningfully at Carrick. Another attack on Christmas? This time she was ready. She had been practicing her illusions and her self defense, and so was completely prepared to take on whatever fate threw her way. At least, she was pretty sure she was until she caught her first glimpse of a sixty foot tall Norwegian Spruce walking around the corner.

“Yikes!”

”Inconsiderate bastards.” Tarin intoned when he learned that one of the trees had stepped on Rupert’s car. ”Don’t they know it’s Christmas?”

For once, Rupert had the right idea. Following the ex-detective’s lead, Tarin slapped some money down on the counter and made his way out of the store. It was absolutely shocking how easy it was to assemble a chainsaw, and the gas tank was very clearly labeled. Glub glub glub. The liquid sloshed around happily in the tank as Tarin followed Rupert again, the man seemed in a particularly good mood.

Maybe it was the fact he currently had a roaring chainsaw in his hands, and a look of murder in his eyes. It made sense. Tarin revved up his chainsaw, a broad grin spreading across his features as the thing leaped to life in his hands. No wonder lumberjacks were such manly men! He laughed, eyes scanning the streets and having no trouble finding a 60 ft walking tree to pick on. It had just smashed another car.

Tarin watched as various people attempted to fight with the trees, with varying degrees of success. They didn’t have chainsaws.

”Want to see if a tree can bleed?” the Medium said, then took off at a jog. He did.

Verdy was busy.

Also currently invisible.

Somewhere under, past or between the piles of ribbon, wrapping paper, scotch tape and scissors she was tying the final bow on the final gift. Choosing, wrapping and mainly keeping things a secret was dreadfully difficult so she had snatched the alone time to finish off her gifts for that fabled time of year. Last year’s events tickled at her mind and she paused frequently to check her phone for hot news topics. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be involved if someone spawned another clay monster, and she rubbed the c-shaped scar on her arm thoughtfully.

Perhaps it was better to just stay out of trouble.

Sighing her contented completion she scooped all the supplies into a neater pile and swished said pile under the bed. There, dealt with. She glanced at the time and stretched out her neck and shoulders, who’d have guessed that wrapping gifts could be so draining? Wriggling feeling back into her cold fingers she looked up and was met by the face.

The face, or mainly the eyes, demanded something from her. The mouth provided the answer to the puzzle of what the face wanted. Jack was offering her his lead with an expression of such pitiful longing that she had to chuckle. The chuckle was immediately followed by a rummaging for her coat and boots, for when the face was pulled, who was she to deny.

~~~

Mainly she just wandered behind Jack, happy to follow him on their little adventure until she was tired enough and he had had his fill of exercise for the evening. She was fairly sure she couldn’t get lost, with enough trips back and forth from the mansion she knew all kinds of strange landmarks to look out for when trying to navigate a way home.

Yes home, for it is (as they say) where the heart is, and with Jack, both the Andy-s and her assorted other friends, the mansion truly did feel like a home. It was this pleasant thought which was occupying her mind when Jack began to whine and tug on his lead and she heard a strange sound, like a car being scrapped, or an accident without the tell-tale squeal of breaks.

She was uncertain what they might find as they hurried toward the commotion, but she was glad that she had packed a first-aid kit (or at least the main essentials from one) loosely into her bag which swung at her side on every stride. Last time, she had dived in unprepared. This time she was ready.

Or so she thought.

Whatever she had been expecting, it hadn’t been the smell of crushed pine needles, or the thud of footsteps unlike any other she had heard. It certainly hadn’t been a whole group of walking Christmas trees. It could have been an elaborate Christmas stunt, pulled off by a mutant if it wasn’t for all the property damage. Besides which as far as she could tell none of the trees were decorated, which would have been fitting if it were specifically a Christmas related show.

Then again perhaps a mutant’s powers had suddenly manifested, or decided to run wild, and the first or only available outlet was in making trees pound the pavement with their rooty legs in what seemed quite a dignified march if not for the occasional scream or car alarm wailing in confusion. Or the sudden roar of a chainsaw.

Last time she had been stupid. This time she had her baby to take care of. She crouched beside Jack and told him to sit. She wasn’t sure if his ‘fetch’ instinct was on overdrive, or if he was simply excited by the sheer absurdity, but his nose twitched frantically and his tail beat against the pavement with an audible slapping sound.

“We’ll just wait and see for a bit.”

Putting herself in danger was one thing. Putting the life of her four-legged ‘baby’ in possible jeopardy was a totally different kettle of fish… or street of trees.

She didn't hear every word said, of course, and instead watched the strange looking woman's mouth with more then a bit as interest as she continued talking.

>>"Dearie me, I'm so sorry. I didn't give you a fright, did I? I was just wondering if you saw those trees that were wandering down the boulevard, wanted to make sure I wasn't tripping or anything, you know?"

Ashley took that moment to look around the street they were on. Well...yeah. It was a tad hard to miss said trees and, by the looks of it, was getting even harder to avoid them. She looked back quickly, however, at the girl in front of her. She looked...off, was the only word Ashley could think of. She tried to put her finger on it but decided that it could be any number of things, as the girl's physical appearance was...different? Something. There were too many obvious points to make of it, but Ashley still found herself staring, something her surrogate father told her was rude.

But come on. A TAIL? People stared at things like that. Not like they were common, even among mutants, right?

Whatever. And that's what got Ashley's (and apparently Duran's, who also stared) attention; the tail. She watched it swish back and fourth and barley had time to look at the brunette in front of her to lip read her words before the woman began to walk off.

>>"I didn't mean to bother you, honest. Your cat's cute, by the way. Sorry 'bout freaking you out and all."

Ashley tried to say that she wasn't freaked out, not really. After all, they were in the midst of a tree apocalypse. Why would a tail and some claws freak her out? But again she was mesmerized by the tail and thought, quite dumbly she would later recall, if she was part feline herself as she noticed, out of the corner of her eye, that Duran was staring intently at the tail as well. Well it was all well and good for her, cats usually did such things...right? She walked forward a bit, eyes still on the swishing tail and didn't notice the girl she was currently semi-stalking waving behind her.

It was by pure luck that Ashley looked up. Ir was, after all, a sound that penetrated the sound of her music, and something of that nature HAD to be loud.

She knew that eventually, like most people protecting their homes or loved ones, the people of the city were going to star fighting back with varying degrees of success. So you had your people with axes, chopping at trees and getting swatted, or chainsaws, like the two maniacs she saw running by. Then you had your crazies, who just wanted to cause chaos within chaos and were using things like Molotov Cocktails. This probably wasn't a good idea, as trees were notoriously flammable, and Molotov Cocktails were notoriously chaotic in the nature of their 'explosion'. So even ONE cocktail could turn a huge tree into a living firestorm, catching it's fellow brethren on fire and making a VERY bad situation even worse.

Well, take a handful of crazies and more then a couple Cocktails of Fiery Doom, and you were in for a cosmic faceplant in no time.

The situation that Ashley found herself in now was a wall of burning and seemingly angry (could trees get angry?) trees that were hellbent on several things. One, not being on fire. That was a big one. The other? Make the person or persons that did such a horrendous act pay for their crimes. It didn't look like either was going to happen, however, as the crazies that started this sudden wall of Fire Trees took off running in the opposite direction, and the trees were flailing every which way as they began to panic (can trees panic?) in their first quest to not be on fire. One tree, a very, VERY huge tree that Ashley couldn't identify because, hell, why would she need to know the names of trees, began to thrash about harder then most and accidentally (?) kicked a car (can trees kick?) in the direction of Ashley.

Well, kind of. More in the direction of the Tailed Woman that had spoken to Ashley not moments earlier.

Ashley wasn't a hero. She never even thought about it, really, but the car was coming awfully fast. And the woman, who didn't look like she couldn't fight, probably could have dodged if she noticed just a tad earlier. But at the moment, she was going to be a red smear on the pavement if Ashley didn't do something. So, for the second time that day Ashley acted without thinking (kinda) and reached out, grabbing the first thing she could get a hold of and tugging it back (hard!) towards her.

The woman's tail.

She didn't pay attention to how it felt or anything, she simply pulled the woman back and grabbed around her, pulling her close to her chest so her back was against Ashley and turned her away from the crash and subsequent explosion, the car nailing a taxi that was, Ashley hoped, empty of any passengers. She stood up a moment after that bit of chaos ended, still holding onto the Tailed Woman (it was actually quite pretty) close to her. Ashley blinked a moment or two, breathing hard as she stared at the fire let out by the cars colliding, and the fire the trees were spreading.

And then noticed her hands were on the woman's chest, clutching probably very painfully to parts she herself shouldn't be grabbing.

Face in full red alert of embarrassment, Ashley let go and took a step back. Sure, she probably saved the woman's life (maybe) but that wasn't an excuse to cop a feel, even by accident.

Plants were rock killers. The roots could find the small cracks in stones and split them wider. On the other hand they kept earth from sliding uncontrollably. Up to this point Locke didn't care either way about plants. When potted they tended to fall over at his approach, so if nothing else, they provided him with workable materials. His first successful golem had fought with an Easter lilly.

These moving trees weren't something Locke was happy about. For starters it was wrecking havoc on the city. People were panicking, cars were getting destroyed, and it wouldn't be long before a building or some traffic signs got demolished. Locke didn't want to think of the disasters that would have been caused when the trees first started walking. And it was annoying to feel all those roots move about. While others were fleeing in terror or grabbing the nearest chopping instrument, Locke was running towards the trees, trying to find a place where he could stand and keep out of harms way while trying to replant trees.

It seemed that the trees were all heading towards the same area, but for what purpose? Locke ducked to avoid a low branch that was passing by him, slammed his hands onto the ground and tried pulling a tree back into the dirt. The dirt grabbed onto some of the smaller roots, bringing them back down. For a minute he could feel some tension there as the tree moved onwards, the roots he had a hold of not being able to move forwards. Then the tension snapped and he was left with nothing but some overturned dirt and a pissed off tree. "Oooh..." Locke started, not being able to finish his swear as the tree he had tried to stop pivoted and swung at him. Locke scrambled to get out of the way.

Kai stared in complete and utter shock for a complete minute, his mouth hanging open slightly. Then he was startled by a voice close to him. It was Muse.

"I...I..." he stammered. It wasn't the first time that he'd been in the wrong place at the wrong time when there were plants going all crazy and moving on their own. And she'd assumed that it was his fault. Everyone seemed to blame the plant mutant in times like that. Of course that time it actually had been his fault. "I'm not doing anything! They are moving all on their own! Those trees. Are walking down the street. Completely of their own accord."

The other shoppers were already aware of these facts. Some were screaming and running away. Some were running towards the trees, weapons in hand.

"Oh no!" Some of those instruments looks sharp. Or mechanical. "They're... they're gonna hurt my trees!"

He had to do something... but what?

Gina didn't notice when the other girl began to follow her, gaze intently trained on her tail. She was a bit more preoccupied with the trees, and didn't expect the girl to follow, so didn't give her much though. She was walking so quietly, she hadn't heard her, anyways.

Things were quickly turning ugly. People were coming out of the woodwork with saws, axes, or anything that they could get a hold of. Some even took hold of half-filled alcohol bottles and stuffed a rag in, lighting them a-flame. (Gina had never seen Molotov Cocktails before.) A mixture of anger and fear whirled in her chest, because things could only get worse if people began to battle the trees. But, what could one mutant do, really? Sit in one of the trees and start singing, "We Shall Not Be Moved"?

It was a tempting thought, but it was dangerous. Gina looked around as the sound of chainsaws penetrated her poor hearing. The situation was turning sour, and she really didn't want to be out on the streets when chainsaws came into play. She watched the two men wielding chainsaws dart down the street. Maybe she'd be safer if she perched atop a building? She looked skyward, looking at the roofs of the buildings to see which roof would be the easiest to perch upon. She was so busy surveying the roofs, she hardly noticed as one of the people threw the makeshift bomb at one of the trees. The tree thrashed, perhaps in pain or in terror, and a misplaced root kicked a car skyward quite suddenly, sending it hrutling towards Gina.

Gina didn't notice the car until it was practically on top of her. And, rather than barrel-roll out of the way or something really cool like that, she froze, dumbstruck, as she struggled to register the idea that she was about to get crushed by an airbound car. However, while Gina stood gaping at the car, someone else was a little quicker on their feet. Someone took a hold of her tail and yanked her out of the way, sending the gargoyle reeling backwards. Whoever had pulled her out of the way also managed to catch her, and fastened on to Gina as the car crashed in front of them. Though all of this had maybe lasted a few seconds, the world seemed to pass in slow-motion. It took a few moments for Regina to realize that she hadn't, in fact, been crushed to death by the car. She shuddered at the thought.

It took a few moments longer to realize how much her tail now hurt from having been yanked so roughly, and only a few more moments to realize that her rescuer had conveniently latched on to her chest for leverage.

"Of all the nerve!" Regina exclaimed, squirming uncomfortably. Given the situation, she was feeling rather more merciful than usual, but there were still a fine line that was easily crossed. No one liked to get groped. And, in Gina's book, touching her wings, or tail, or any more common "off-limits" body part was an unforgivable offense. Her rescuer seemed to notice their predicament and released her, sending the off-balance gargoyle slipping to the pavement. Gina rubbed her sore bum as she stood up. She took a moment to collect herself, attempting to push the anger that simmered in her chest down. They had, after all, saved her.

Gina turned sharply, eyes thinned dangerously as she regarded the person that had saved her. It was the headphones girl. Gina got up, her face a darker shade of grey in anger. She was without words, grateful that she wasn't smashed by a car, but feeling rather violated from the methods of rescue. She closed the distance between the two of them, sizing the other girl up. She pointed one clawed finger at the girls face, and in a low voice, she grumbled, "You're lucky you saved my life, elsewise, I would've--" She paused, for what would she have done? Not beat the girl up over the matter. Maybe smack her wrists or something of the sort. Gina wasn't sure. "--You wouldn't want to know what I would've done, let's just leave it at that."

She stared the girl down a few seconds, letting the words set in before she dropped her hand and stepped back, settling back into her 5'1" standpoint. She wedged her hands in her pockets, gaze cutting to the side again, towards the trees. Gina didn't really have time to get all irate with some stranger. There were larger problems at hand, namely the sentient trees that were parading down the streets. She didn't, however, walk away quite yet, lest the headphones girl wanted to get a word in edgewise.

Regina's form, though still rigid and still quite lined with anger, relaxed a little. Her angry flush paled a little, and she drifted from a noticeably pissed-off stance, to something that could be classified as only mildly annoyed. After all, contrary to the technicalities of her having been rescued, it was better than being crushed by a flying car. She sighed with a faint huff, and then said something rather unexpected.

"Thank you for not letting me get smashed by a car."

The phrase was practically spat out, said in an almost incoherent mutter. Regina puffed her cheeks out and pursed her lips after she uttered her thanks, making sure to show that she was still pissed, even if grateful.

A math lesson.

Subject A: red headed (fire red headed). Clearly a good listener. 5’11” in height (though tall was tall, from a kitten’s perspective). Pocket location: somewhere between waist and foothills.

Subject G: Hat-headed. Also short gray and Asian, in that order, with a tail that was not as soft as his her own and wings that were clearly compensating for a lack of cat ears. Expressed fears of “tripping,” possibly reflective of issues separate from the current Treepidemic. To quantify the height: ...short. (This, even a kitten could tell.)

(And appreciate.)

If Subject A is 5’11” and grabs a tail at velocity x, which results in collision at time t with Subject G who is of 5’11”–9” inches, then what are the hemispheres’ final locations?

Solution: Approximately hand height, and pocket level.

It was at this point that the kitten realized something: he had best speak now, or forever hold his y-chromosome. It was a scientifically tested fact that girls with stabbing implements attached to their hands (and cute accessories in their hair, for that matter) did not react well to learning later that a kitten was... well.

>> "Thank you for not letting me get smashed by a car."

“You’re welcome,” the kitten mewed innocuously. “Mew,” she he added, for good measure.

Christmas is a wonderful time of year. The weather is nice and cold, people are generally very nice and generous, and it gave Elizabeth a warm sense of security. Which was the only reason she had dared to leave the mansion of her own free will. That, and to help out at a local soup kitchen for a couple of hours. It gave the girl a fuzzy feeling inside of her when she did that. It was just so nice helping out the homeless and poor people of New York City, and it was nice not having to worry about her personal safety.

Liz gave a little twirl and held an end of her scarf in either hand as she headed to a bus stop. It was such a beautiful day! It just made her want to burst out into song and dance, like they always do on those cheesy romance musicals. But then something broke her out of her reverie.

It was no physical sensation. No, Liz could immediately tell what it was. It was like a giant ocean wave slowly swelling up and threatening to break down a pier. She could feel the mostly-singular emotion building up against her emotional barriers. The feeling was one she was quite familiar with. Fear. Lots and lots of fear.

The blonde empath paused, ignoring the frantic waving of the driver of the temporarily stopped bus in front of her. Something was wrong. And then she recognized the sounds of flocks and flocks of hundreds and hundreds of birds flying overhead. Unconsciously, Beth followed their flight path back to the source. Something was scaring the birds and she needed to figure out what. After all, wasn’t that what they were supposed to be training her for, back at the mansion? How to use one’s powers for more than influencing one’s parrot to not be afraid of going to the vet?

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, rallying her psychic defenses. And then she was off, lightly jogging toward the place where the birds had come from.

About ten minutes later, after crossing a couple blocks, Liz had to stop again to sort out the array of emotions she was feeling. Not only was she feeling the horror from dozens and dozens of animals, but she was also starting to see people running past her and cars forgetting about safety laws. And she could hear screams. And the vague sound of a chainsaw in the distance, whatever that meant. Elizabeth leaned against the corner of a building and stared at the source of the exodus of frightened humans and assorted city animals alike. It was one thing for animals to be scared, but it was something else for a human to be. Surely something horrible was happening, something out of her control.

Something dangerous.

But what kind of a damsel in distress would she be if there was no stress? So the animal manipulator blew a bang out of her face and began going against the flow, carefully broadcasting feelings of calmness. The last thing she needed to worry about was the fear from the animals. She had enough of that herself.

'Twas two nights before Christmas, when all through the city

the pine trees were stirring, with not a pity;

The saplings were stung by man’s lack of care,

for their father their rage, the citizens would all bare;

His children were marching through time square,

those who found themselves under roots found a tragic affair;

but the children knew not all was lost ,

for the trees revenge would come at a cost,

there was a tale of a beast of Christmas past,

that fought so hard to its very last.

but the monster of clay and of brute force,

was slain to its end with little remorse.

the breath of the Christmas ninja did not show

while his blade cut through evil octopus dough,

When that didn’t work the ninja did not fear,

but stole a red sleigh, and put it in gear,

With a fearless driver, so lively and quick,

I knew in a moment it was the ninja’s second trick.

More rapid than eagles his geysers they came,

And he whistled, and shouted, and called cthulu by name;

"Now, evil! now, wicked! now, clay and Now, lived!

Oh, mush! oh cuttlefish! oh, fallen god of bile!

To the top of its head! to the bottom of the pile!

Now melt away! melt away! melt away all!"

As dry clay was bathed in the wet,

the evil clay god it’s end was met,

So up to the roof-top the ninja did climb,

and with blade on his back he would fight crime.

And then, with amazement, I heard on the roof

The deadly silence of the Christmas ninja go poof.

and so this holiday, I know without doubt,

that the trees are in for a hell of a bout.

He will be dressed all in black, from his head to his toe,

Except for his red and green scarf in the wind it will blow

A katana of reckoning on his back,

And he looked like a weapon ready to lay down the smack.

His eyes -- how they glittered! his eyes they burn!

His blade was like lightning, upon his return!

He shot from the rooftop like an arrow from bow,

And a pile of needles fell from the trees like snow;

The stump of sapling fell to the cement path,

And like a fury he swore to a flora blood bath;

He had a peppermint striped face,

That twisted like a nutcase.

He was thin and fit, and moved like an elf,

And I gaspeded when I saw him, in spite of myself;

A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,

Soon gave me to know, soon every tree would be dead;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,

And sliced off some branches; then turned with a jerk,

And laying his finger aside of his nose,

And giving a nod, up another tree trunk he goes;

He sprang up the branches, as they fell off due to the deadly blade dances,

And away they all flew due to Christmas ninja might.

But I heard him exclaim, as he started another tree fight,

"Merry Christmassss to all, and to all a good-night."
The Christmas Ninja

>>"I...I... I'm not doing anything! They are moving all on their own! Those trees. Are walking down the street. Completely of their own accord."

"Yes, dat is vat you said last time." Sveta pointed out, shaking her head. Either Kai's abilities were compltely out of control here - which would have been funny, since she hadn't even touched him yet - or he was telling the truth, and somebody else was moving the trees. Which, plainly, sucked. Because then, they had no idea who was behind the whole mess.

>>"Oh no! They're... they're gonna hurt my trees!"

Oh boy. If there was going to be a fight between the men with sharp tools and the trees, Sveta could bet things were going to get worse, and more people were going to get hurt. Now, as someone who had already wiped out half of New York City by accident, she did not want to see that happen again. It was bad PR for mutantkind.
Turning back to Kai, she stared into his eyes.

"Den, you talk to them. You hear me? You can talk to the trees. Do it." Reaching out, she touched his forehead with her gloved hand, and left it there for a few seconds, before she pulled back. "Try."

She glanced at the people who were preparing to fight, and prayed that Kai had been practicing.

Two people ran out of the store with their new chainsaws and didn't appear to be instantly crushed, so Cafas to their lead. Of course he was young, and liked 'splosions, and probably watched too much myth busters, or played too many video games, or something else stereotypical that attempted to imply that older generations did not like 'splosions, which was a blatant lie. And so Cafas set off to do something he had always wanted to, so, so badly. He set off to make the biggest bang he could muster, because he had him a hardware and chemical supply store, and he had him enough cash to buy what he needed. Contrary to popular belief, fighting crime payed pretty well, the tips were always nice, especially when you freelanced, and muggers didn't tend to mention their missing wallet. So with a boyish glint in his eye he set to work.

Anarchists cookbook don't fail me now.

He took seven parts solidox, finely powdered with use of excessive force, added it to one part petroleum jelly, and gently kneaded the two together, it took a few minutes, and as chainsaws revved, Cafas approached teen Zen. It also seemed it applied to early twenty year olds as well. Split into half fist sized amounts, force into pipes, seal said pipes from one end, apply remote blasting caps and arrange 6 'Oh crap I'm about to die from a tree' safety items into waistband. he figured the 5 second fuses coming out of the blasting caps would work fine. once soap flakes were liberally applied to several cans of petroleum, pipes were fitted into the opening and materials were payed for. Grab a Zippo on the way out and go back to work with his pretty axe.

The fact I could just do that does not make me feel secure at all.

Armed and dangerous, and slightly less fearful given that with readjustments he had 6 cans of pure death hanging from his belt, Cafas beset a tree with his axe once more, a nice clean swipe, out, and another had a wedge out of the tree before it had swung at him with a branch that subsequently landed on the ground. The second batted him in the face with all the force of a heavyweight's fist. Displeased with such a horrendous act, and rather punch-drunk, Cafas swung again. The little battle had move over thirty metres from the hardware store, and he had no visual of the two chainsaw revvers, though he could have sworn he could hear them over the groaning of wood. Cafas decided as several trees came bearing down on him, that the best tactic, an oldie but a goodie, was, to use a meme, burn it with fire. Zippo, melt handle of fuel container turned bomb off his belt, light fuse, throw behind him an run.

Four, three, two.

One... The detonation alone was bigger than he had expected, and he was not at all as far away as he would have liked, 5 seconds was not a long time, just enough to run a further 30 metres, ladened with incendiary devices and an axe as he was. The detonation most certainly caught up to him, in way of a shockwave. Luckily, that was all that caught up, a wall of trees separated him from the flying burning napalm. The pretty orange colour coming through the gaps told him, however, that fire was indeed burning them. This, however, did not please the trees at all. He would have thought of potential consequences, of perhaps hoped the fire didn't spread, but he was still mad about his jeans, and the adrenaline was clouding his judgement. All the best fun was had when you didn't think about what you were doing. The explosion made Cafas a little satisfied inside. Tonight was a good night to potentially lose a finger. Speaking of lost, by this stage, he had no idea where he was. All the running blind likely had not helped.

Who cares, keep defending the city!