Dasha’s feet echoed down black-tiled bare hallways as he made his way towards the big man’s office. The “President” had summoned him to a meeting, and he walked quickly and with certain purpose. He could not be late, he knew the fate of those who were: they were turned into stocking-stuffers and hung above the fireplace. Marching up to the ornate double doors, Dasha stretched as he prepared to knock. The doors were made of mahogany, with Christmas trees carved into their dark surfaces. But Dasha wasn’t concerned about the doors, but rather what was behind them. “You wanted to see me sir?”