Christmas Countdown Day 19

“The Ventilation Situation”

(or: Infrastructure Was a Lie)

By Friday morning, the Chaos Four looked like a group that had lost a very personal war against Christmas.

Peppermint walked like her spine was held together by hope and tape.

Buttercup had wrapped her leg in an ice pack and refused to explain why.

Joe moved slowly, carefully, like every step might summon consequences.

Mason had glitter in places glitter should not survive.

They sat around the table in silence.

No arguing.

No planning boards.

No enthusiasm.

Joe finally broke.

“We are not doing anything creative today.”

Peppermint blinked.

Buttercup gasped.

Mason looked personally wounded.

Joe continued, voice calm but brittle.

“No tunnels. No animals. No devices. No disguises. No buttons. No sirens. No explosions. We are using infrastructure.”

Peppermint straightened.

“…Infrastructure?”

Joe nodded.

“Vents.”

Buttercup squinted.

“Vents like… crawling?”

“Yes.”

“Like… tight spaces?”

“Yes.”

“Like… ceilings?”

Joe closed his eyes.

“Yes.”

Mason grinned.

“I love vents.”

Joe immediately pointed at him.

“You are not allowed to love anything today.”

The Quietest Plan They’ve Ever Had

The vent entrance was tucked inside a staff hallway no one ever used because it smelled like cinnamon regret.

Joe removed the grate carefully.

No alarms.

No whistles.

No Nutcrackers.

Peppermint whispered,

“This is… suspiciously calm.”

Buttercup muttered,

“I don’t trust it.”

Mason was already halfway inside.

Joe hissed,

“Mason, WAIT—”

Too late.

They climbed in one by one.

The vents were warm.

Uncomfortably warm.

Like the North Pole had decided to install central anxiety.

Joe crawled first.

Peppermint followed, wincing every time the metal vibrated.

Buttercup shuffled behind her, muttering complaints to the ductwork.

Mason brought up the rear, humming.

Joe whispered,

“We drop down near the pantry. Quietly. No sudden movements.”

Peppermint nodded.

Buttercup nodded.

Mason sneezed.

“ACHOOOOOO—”

The sound echoed.

Loudly.

Too loudly.

Somewhere below them, a Nutcracker stopped walking.

Another Nutcracker tilted its head.

A third Nutcracker looked up and said, very slowly,

“…did the ceiling just cough?”

Joe froze.

Peppermint stopped breathing.

Buttercup mouthed, I hate this.

Gravity Gets Involved

The vent rattled.

Joe whispered,

“Do not move.”

No one moved.

The vent rattled harder.

Peppermint whispered,

“I think my weight shifted—”

The grate beneath them gave up on life.

Not all at once.

Just enough.

They did not fall into the kitchen.

They fell into the dishwashing area.

Peppermint landed in suds.

Buttercup slid across the floor yelling something unrepeatable.

Joe hit the ground apologizing to no one in particular.

Mason landed perfectly on his feet.

“I planned that,” he said.

Steam filled the room.

Dishes clattered.

Several kitchen elves screamed.

Joe sat up, soaked, hair plastered to his face.

“…We were so close.”

The Nutcrackers Respond

Nutcrackers stormed in.

They did not yell.

They did not panic.

They simply stared.

Nutcracker #1 pointed.

“THEY AGAIN.”

Nutcracker #2 crossed its arms.

“WHY ARE THEY ALWAYS DAMP.”

Peppermint raised a hand weakly.

“We can explain.”

The Nutcrackers did not want an explanation.

They escorted the Chaos Four out with all the enthusiasm of mall security on Christmas Eve.

As they passed the hallway, Buttercup whispered,

“Where’s Bob?”

No one answered.

That somehow made it worse.

❌ Attempt #12: FAILED

They sat outside in the snow afterward, wrapped in towels they absolutely stole.

Peppermint stared at the kitchen doors.

Joe rubbed his temples.

“We need help.”

Buttercup nodded.

“Real help.”

Mason blinked.

“…You mean the backup?”

They all looked at him.

Peppermint frowned.

“Do you think… something happened?”

Mason shrugged.

“They said they’d come.”

Silence.

Snow fell.

Peppermint finally stood.

“Tomorrow,” she said quietly,

“we try again.”

Joe sighed.

Buttercup groaned.

Mason smiled.

Because of course he did.