Secret Society - Episode 011: Rescuing Santa

 

Secret Society – Episode 011: Rescuing Santa

When Tilda Thimblewhistle overhears a dark plot, Ms. Sweetins springs into action to uncover the truth.

As the inner circle fears the worst, a mysterious return raises more questions than answers.

Santa may be home—but something about his story doesn’t add up...

Scene opens in the soft glow of lanternlight on a snowy North Pole evening. The sky above the Claus estate is filled with shimmering auroras, but the mood inside is anything but peaceful.

The large, rustic lodge is filled with warmth and cozy charm—crackling fireplace, soft flannel throws, and carved wooden reindeer statues. But the mood is tense.

Tilda Thimblewhistle, wrapped in a thick scarf and mittens, sits stiffly on a large candy-striped couch. Across from her, Ms. Sweetins stands, arms folded, gaze focused and sharp. Mrs. Claus, regal and calm but visibly anxious, pours a steaming cup of tea. And beside the hearth, dressed in a long coat and red-trimmed vest, Bernard, former NPCW Commissioner turned wrestling manager, paces restlessly.

TILDA I know what I heard. Scrooge mentioned Dr. Moreau by name… said they’d captured Santa and were preparing to “interrogate” him. And the Grinch was there, bragging about serving Krampus!

BERNARD (sighing heavily) Scrooge's been walking the edge for months... but working with Moreau? That crosses a line even he shouldn’t dare.

MRS. CLAUS Santa’s been secretive lately... more than usual. He said he was “following a thread” with Van Helsing—but he didn’t say where. He left two days ago. He was supposed to be back by this morning…

Tilda looks to Sweetins, a mix of fear and guilt in her eyes. Sweetins, ever composed, gently puts a hand on her shoulder.

MS. SWEETINS You did the right thing, Tilda. If Santa’s in danger, we don’t wait—we act.

Just then, the front door creaks open and a gust of snow swirls in. Van Helsing enters, looking worn from travel, the fur of his collar dusted with frost. Hansel follows, bundled in tactical winter gear, carrying a pack.

VAN HELSING He told me he had “unfinished business.” Said it was private. No mention of danger. No mention of Moreau.

HANSEL (sitting down heavily) I offered to go with him. He said it was “something only old friends could help with.” Whatever he was doing—it was personal.

The room falls into uneasy silence. The fire crackles. Worry hangs in the air like heavy snow.

Then—  A loud knock at the door.

The group jumps to attention. Van Helsing draws a hidden dagger. Bernard puts himself between the door and the others.

The door swings open—

SANTA CLAUS (grinning) “HO! HO! HO!”

Covered in snow but none the worse for wear, Santa steps into the home with a jolly laugh, slinging off his thick red traveling cloak. He’s smiling warmly, but his eyes flick briefly to Van Helsing—and something in them flickers: caution? Warning?

MRS. CLAUS (tearing up) Augustus! She rushes forward and throws her arms around him, clutching him tightly.

TILDA (stammering) B-but… I don’t understand…

MS. SWEETINS (sternly) Santa—we thought something had happened to you. Tilda overheard Scrooge talking to a Dr. Moreau. Said they had you.

Santa’s eyes flash slightly, but his jolly tone remains intact.

SANTA (smiling) Oh, that? Just a little misunderstanding. A couple of unruly brutes thought they could muscle me into giving up information. Turns out they were the ones getting coal in their stockings.

Van Helsing eyes him sharply.
He walks forward and places a hand on Santa’s shoulder, almost fatherly—but his grip tightens just a bit.

VAN HELSING You sure you’re alright? You weren’t followed? And you definitely weren’t... taken?

Santa meets his gaze, the jovial light in his eyes dimming just slightly.

SANTA (grave, then deflecting with a wink) I’m fine, old friend. I handled it. Now—Missus—how about a stack of your famous maple snow-capped pancakes, hmm?

MRS. CLAUS (laughing softly) Already warming the griddle, dear.

The tension starts to ease. Hansel drops his pack and rubs his hands together. Bernard shakes his head with a chuckle. Tilda still looks uncertain, but Sweetins places a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

SANTA (CONT’D) Besides—tomorrow’s Christmas in July! And nothing’s gonna stop me from handing out cheer and watching the Blonde Bombshells defend their titles.

They all gather at the large round table as the kitchen comes to life—eggnog poured, pancakes stacked high, a fire roaring in the hearth.

But as they laugh and eat... Van Helsing watches Santa. Quiet. Unblinking.

He knows Santa is hiding something.

And in the distance—far from the warm light of the Claus home—a cold, sterile lab begins to stir with life… and chains rattle in anticipation.