“HALT… DROP YOUR WEAPONS,” drones a mechanical voice. Santa turns to see a terrifying sight. At the top of the hill stands, what at one point looked like an elf that overdosed on EGH (Elf Growth Hormone). The elf stands at a solid 6’2 with rippling muscles leading down to a set of washboard abs and tree trunk legs. A real specimen. At least that is what it was designed to be. This mecha-elf has half of his skin melted off, with traces of charred marshmallow still stuck on. A cold robotic interior is revealed under the melted skin, half of the face a robotic grimace.
Snazzyflakes and Santa keep their weapons leveled at the Elfinator. A crimson dot burns brightly on Santa’s chest.
“I should have known, the accurate ground fire, the resilience…” mutters Claus.
“Santa, what is that?” asks Snazzyflakes.
Claus begins, “Well, the elves are fantastic workers but they lack the size to handle some of the larger gifts and the large boxes of parts and materials. So I decided to… build an elf. But I built them too well and…”
“They became self-aware murderous robots?” finishes Snazzyflakes.
“They became self-aware murderous robots,” confirms Claus.
“Cease the conversing and drop your weapons, or suffer termination,” repeats the Elfinator.
“He’s talking to you,” says Santa, “It’s me he wants, you are inconsequential to him. That’s why he hasn’t fired yet.”
“Too bad, I’m ‘bout to be consequential,” mutters Snazzyflakes. Snazzyflakes leaps to the side, firing a hard-candy slug at the Elfinator.
The Elfinator staggers before firing a wild shot at Santa. Santa dives out of the way, sliding behind a tree. Snazzyflakes racks another round in the chamber, but is met by a flurry of gun fire as the Elfinator rapidly aquires him as the new target. Snazzyflakes rolls down the side of the hill a few yards and fires another slug at the Elfinator, who absorbs the shot and continues firing.
“YOU HAD TO MAKE THEM INDESTRUCTIBLE?” yells Snazzyflakes in frustration.
“WELL, THEY COULD ALSO FUNCTION AS BODY GUARDS. I DON’T KNOW THE NORTH POLE CAN BE A SCARY PLACE.” yells Claus in reply.
Claus steps out from behind the tree, firing his toy cannon. A football-shaped present spirals throught he air with the velocity of a John Elway pass and slams into the Elfinator’s head, rotating it 180 degrees. The Elfinator stops and all is quiet.
“I think you got ‘em,” calls Snazzyflakes.
Suddenly the Elfinator reaches up with its steel arm, and grabs its head like a basketball, twisting it back into place, it’s glaring gaze locked onto Santa.
Santa rolls his eyes and grips his weapon.
A mighty roar echoes off the surrounding snow covered hills followed by a maelstrom of candy cane bullets rain down from the hill. The Elfinator staggers as hundreds of candy canes pierce his metallic torso, riddling it with bullet holes. The Elfinator drops to a knee, unable to withstand the deluge of sweet hate being poured out by Teddy, before slowly falling face first into the snow.