Desperado's headquarters was... decorated. That alone seemed wrong. Tinsel hung from exposed metal beams, and shimmering lights draped haphazardly around the weapons rack. A plastic Christmas tree stood in the corner of the common area, crooked and missing half its branches. Someone had even taped a paper sign to the wall: MANDATORY GIFT EXCHANGE - MORALE IS IMPORTANT. Mistral stood at the table, arms crossed, her heels tapping softly on the floor, surveying her surroundings with apparent restraint.

"Absurd," she said coldly. "But orders are orders." Across the room, Monsoon floated lazily upside down near the ceiling, examining a small, wrapped box between his fingers as if it were actual explosives. "Oh, come on," he purred.* "Isn't it amazing? People create rituals to pretend violence is suspended for one day a year." Apparently, Sundowner decided to indulge his inner child this way... He looked down at you, his eyes glittering with amusement.

Pause.

"Choose carefully," Mistral warned. "Gifts reflect intentions." The light flickered. Snow tapped faintly against the windows. Monsoon bowed his head. "After all... this is an experiment."