Christmas Time

Santa’s sleigh speeds away, leaving the shining lights of the Aurora Borealis twinkling behind him. The Guardian flies side-by-side with the sleigh. 

“What is the prism dimension ornament?” asks Sugarfoot in a worried tone.

“It is a prison dimension where we keep some of the most dangerous Christmas entities,” says the Guardian, “It’s the perfect instrument to abduct powerful evil entities and store them before unleashing them into your dimension.”

“I was afraid that’s what it might be,” says Sugarfoot.

“That means he already has the Blizzard,” says Santa, “That’s where I imprisoned him.”

“That’s not all that is in there,” says the Guardian, “I pray that he never finds the one imprisoned deepest within that dimension.”

“He is assembling a terrible team, however, I fear what already resided in the Prism Dimension,” says the Guardian in a somber tone.

“Do not fear, Sugarfoot,” says Santa with a determined timber, “We too will assemble a terrific team of powerful Christmas heroes.”

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The sun shines brightly in the pale blue winter sky, its sunbeams radiating brightly around the colorful translucent structures of the Candy Kingdom. The Candy King bathes in the warmth of the sun’s rays, in stark contrast to the chill of the winter air. He watches with pride as the Candy Kingdom’s army, adorned in their whimsical hard candy armor, executes drills under the watchful eye of their glorious general. Every move is made with intentional, rigid movements, over-emphasizing each action to ensure proper technique under the stress of combat.

One of the Candy King’s advisors runs to the King’s side, breathlessly trying to speak.

“Well what is it, Reginold?” asks the Candy King, obviously vexed.

“There’s an unidentified craft approaching from the south wall!” exclaims the aid.

The orderly exercise breaks, every soldier running purposefully to their battlestations. The bulk of the forces in the courtyard scatter. Santa’s sleigh descends into the courtyard, along with his angelic companion.

“Guardian,” says Candy King, recognizing the angelic figure, “to what do we owe this surprise visit.”

“We come in a time of dire need and we require assistance,” says the Guardian. The Candy King sits back, a smug smile playing upon his face.

“Oh no, not from you,” says the Guardian, turning to the army’s general. The Nutcracker snaps to attention.

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Santa’s sleigh now flies over the barren tundra of the South Pole, the elvish crew scrambles around the sleigh employing defrosting measures to ensure the sleigh doesn’t freeze up. Snazzyflakes uses the reindeer rigging to move among the reindeer team, giving them sips of hot cocoa.

“There,” says Santa, pointing at a frozen cavern sunk into the side of a frosty hill.

“Vectoring to designated LZ,” confirms Rudolph.

Santa lands outside the cave and steps out of the sleigh. A growl echoes through the cave, reverberating off the walls and blasting through the surrounding landscape. Teddy the Bear exits, holding in his paws his signature peppermint minigun. Strapped around his body are jars filled with a mysterious clear fluid, the tops of the jars plugged with old rags. 

Teddy roars, nodding his head.

Santa turns to the Guardian, “He’s in.” Santa turns back towards the sleigh, “Only one more to go.”