Christmas Full Throttle
Part 6: Just Before the Ho-ho-ho
The red coat felt heavy on Tom’s shoulders. Not because of the fabric, but because of everything attached to it: expectations, pressure, and that uncomfortable feeling that something was happening out there that he no longer fully controlled.
He pulled the hat lower over his face, adjusted the beard one last time, and looked around the small storage room. Boxes, cables, empty cups. Not a place for big decisions—and yet exactly that.
“Okay,” he said quietly. “If I go out there, it’s only if we’re all on the same page.”
Lea nodded. “We’re not posting anything today. Nothing at all. That’s clear.”
Jonas grimaced. “My algorithm hates that sentence, but… yeah. Not today.”
Mehmet gave a crooked grin. “I’ll only record it in my head. For later. Much later.”
Tom let out a noticeable breath. “Good. At least we have a common ground.”
Muffled noise drifted in from outside. Applause, children’s voices, the host’s voice, once again saying something like “we’ll continue shortly.”
“He’s stalling,” Sofia muttered. “You can really hear how he’s buying time.”
Tom nodded. “He’s doing it on purpose. The longer he talks, the more pressure he puts on me.”
“And what does he want?” Jonas asked.
“That I function properly,” Tom said dryly. “No deviation. No own ideas. Santa in, advertising out.”
Lea crossed her arms. “And that’s exactly what you don’t want to play along with anymore.”
“Not without backup,” Tom said, looking at them one by one.
For a moment, it was quiet. Then Jonas’ phone vibrated— no message this time. Just that brief reminder of how easily everything could blow up.
“Suppose,” Jonas said slowly, “we do it the way we talked about earlier. Observe. Collect. No posts.”
“Then you still need a plan,” Lea added. “Not just for tonight. But for what comes after.”
Tom leaned against a crate. “Honestly, my plan was: just survive this evening.”
“Too short-term,” Sofia said. “If there really is shady stuff going on here, it won’t end with one appearance.”
Mehmet raised his hand. “Suggestion: we do what we’re best at. We listen. We remember faces, voices, statements.”
Tom looked at him. “You want to collect evidence without looking like influencers.”
“Exactly,” Lea said. “Just… low-key.”
Tom twisted his mouth slightly. “You do realize that ‘low-key’ usually isn’t your thing.”
Jonas grinned. “Challenge accepted.”
The host’s voice carried through the wall again. Louder this time. More impatient.
“He’s about to call for me,” Tom said.
“One more thing,” Lea said quickly. “If anything escalates—we stick together. No filming solo. No lone-wolf moves.”
Mehmet nodded. “Team Chaos. But coordinated.”
Tom looked at them for a moment. Teenagers. Influencers. Not professionals. And still the only people who didn’t make him feel replaceable right now.
“Sounds risky,” he said at last.
Then he nodded slightly.
“So probably effective.”
Applause swelled outside. Someone knocked hard on the door.
“Tom!” a voice called from outside. “We need you. Now.”
Tom reached for the door handle, paused for a brief moment, and looked back one last time.
“No matter what happens next,” he said quietly, “this wasn’t a bad decision.”
Then he opened the door— and the noise swallowed him.