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Santa’s sleigh rockets over the slushy waters of the Weddell Sea, approaching the Ronne Ice Shelf of Antarctica. The Guardian keeps pace effortlessly, soaring alongside Santa's sleigh.
“Why are we returning South, Santa?” asks Jingleman.
“He wasn’t ready yet. He still may not be, but now is the time,” replies Santa cooly.
“He?” asks Jingleman, but is interrupted.
“NEE-NAW NEE-NAW, NEE-NAW NEE-NAW”
Several alarms begin to screech and warning lights flash rapidly.
“What is going on? There was nothing on the life-form scans,” yells Sugarfoot.
“Uh Santa, we need to do something and fast!” says Snazzyflakes in a panicked tone. Through his advanced optics, Snazzyflakes sees several sheets of ice recede into the ground, replaced by multiple rocket pods, Peppermint missiles, topped with depleted hard candy warheads, and molten marshmallow payloads.
“Identify yourselves,” demands a staticy voice from over the Sleigh’s comm systems.
“Do not fear, I shall vanquish the offenders,” says the Guardian.
“RAWRRRRRRR,” bellows Teddy, reaching for his gatling gun.
“Calm yourselves,” says Santa, “Candymittens, transmit access code: Mistletoe.”
Candymittens quickly types in the code and a quick, robotic response emits from the comms unit, “Submit the passphrase.”
“He’s making a list, he’s checking it twice. Gonna find out who’s naughty and nice,” answers Santa clearly and succinctly.
“Entry confirmed on the Noted Individuals Cleared for Entry list. Please approach landing pad Holly,” says the voice from the comms station.
“The N.I.C.E list?” asks the Guardian with a quizzical look.
Santa chuckles before pulling the reigns, sending the Sleigh into a shallow descent. A large section of ice recedes, revealing a landing pad beneath the surface.
A great mob of elves in simple black suits briskly walk around the landing pad. The elves wear black-mirrored glasses, a glassy wall much like the expression that each elf wore on their face. A single human makes his way through the bustling throng, holding a lantern in one hand moving toward the edge of the landing pad. Santa sets the sleight down in the center of the pad, the Guardian touches down next to him.
Santa steps down from the sleigh to meet the older man making his way toward them.
“Innkeeper, has it been so long that you’ve gone gray?” asks Santa jokingly.
“Santa, I do not remember a time you weren’t white,” says the Innkeeper, reaching out to shake Santa’s hand. The Innkeeper looks to the other members of Santa’s party, “Welcome to the crown jewel of Santa’s black sites, the Coal Pile.”
“Teddy, you and Snazzyflakes stay with the Sleigh,” says Santa.
Teddy roars an affirmative, Snazzyflakes doesn’t look so sure.
Santa, the Guardian, and the rest of Santa’s elves follow the Innkeeper through a doorway into a labyrinth of halls, finally leading into a control room. Several control panels circle the room with numerous screens hanging from the ceiling displaying varying vital signs. The Innkeeper walks up next to another man, intently staring through a three by three foot glass window.
“Toymaker, where are we?” asks the Innkeeper.
The Toymaker turns around, “Santa, good to see you old friend. I wish I had better news. All the reprogramming has been completed and all vital systems have been repaired. However, due to the subject’s previous history, extensive testing must be undertaken.”
“There’s no time,” says Santa, “We’ll have to take our chances. He may be the difference between survival and total annihilation. If the North Pole falls, Slay will find this place. Even with all of this, I do not think we can stop him.”
“Fair enough, I hate to think he is the only thing standing between us and defeat,” says the Toymaker shaking his head. He turns to a pair of other elves in medical coats, “Defrost him.”
Santa, the Innkeeper, and the Toymaker peer in the panel. The silhouette of a humanoid figure is frozen in the center of the room. Steam rolls off of the figure’s body as the subject begins to defrost. Suddenly the subject jerks and the Elfinator’s eyes illuminate.
