Secret Society – Episode 015: Santa’s Rescue

 

Secret Society – Episode 015: Santa’s Rescue

Santa’s escape reveals a sinister plot. Kris Kringle returns from exile. As ancient magics stir and alliances fracture, the Secret Society must prepare for the storm ahead.

Scene – Santa’s Workshop, September 2, 2025

Everyone gathers around the circular oak table, warmed by a crackling hearth and the soft glow of candy-cane lanterns. Snow drifts gently against frosted windows as anticipation hums in the air—Santa has been missing for a month, and tonight they’ll finally learn what happened.

Part 1: Santa’s Story

Mrs. Claus leans forward, concern etched in her gentle eyes. “Darling,” she says, voice soft as falling snow, “tell us where you’ve been.”

Santa clears his throat and offers a weary smile. “I last saw the sunrise after meeting Yolgrimm and the elder Yeti in the far northern wilds,” he begins, tone measured. “We discussed the troubling alliance between yetikind and Dr. Moreau—how Moreau has begun creating bestial hybrids with their help. Yolgrimm also explained why the Yeti has risen to become the Alpha of the clan. But just as I left the cave, a shadow moved at the edge of the treeline.”

Santa continues “ I was approached by Dr. Moreau and some of his beast men.”

Negropolis narrows his eyes. “You mean The Beasts?”

Santa shakes his head, voice dropping to a hush. “No. These were far more primal—creatures shaped from raw, untamed instinct. More primal, more bestial, stripped of any humanity.”

A collective shiver runs around the table as Santa continues. “They overwhelmed me in an instant. I felt the world tilt, and before I could call out, Mr. Moreau himself injected me with something dark and cold.”

Tilda Thimblewhistle covers her mouth. “I did hear that right…they captured you!”

Mrs. Claus and Ms. Sweetins exchange worried looks, then reach out to steady Tilda’s trembling shoulders. The room grows still, every eye fixed on Santa.

“I woke up in a cell no larger than a closet,” Santa says, voice breaking just at the edges. “A single iron-frame bed and a tiny washroom. No windows, no letters, no magic to reach me.”

He pauses, recalling the solitude. “My only link was an attendant named James. He brought meals on a cart and, at times, drew my blood for Moreau’s experiments.”

The group leans in as Santa lowers his voice. “From James I learned I was in a hidden lab in Alaska. Moreau had initiated a cloning project—he’d made copies of me, hollow shells programmed to replace the original. But I learnt only one of those clones was viable. thw others disposed of by Moreau’s team.”

Santa shivers knowing one of those clones came to NPCW pretending to be him corrupted, calling himself Sinister Klaus.

Mrs. Claus sees the sorrow in Santa and hugs him to support him.

Santa continues, “As time went on, James, kept letting more and more pieces slip. For example, there is a Dr. Goodfellow who is a master in psychological reprogramming. Apparently he was working on a project called Mean Machine.”

Lady Molly arches an eyebrow. “I’ve heard whispers about Dr. Goodfellow’s work,” she murmurs. “he was in charge of Moreau’s brainwashing division.”

Santa nods. “Indeed.”

Hope flickers when Santa’s lips curve into a sly grin. “But over weeks, James and I built trust. He agreed to help me escape through the ventilation ducts—tiny shafts overlooked by the guards.”

A hush sweeps the table as Santa stands, voice steady with triumph. “And so, one frigid morning, James guided me through those vents into the wilderness. He kept my flight secret until I vanished beyond the perimeter. And ran into Kringle and his team …”

He settles back into his chair, exhaustion and relief mingling in his eyes.

Lady Molly taps her fingers on the table. “Remarkable. And perilous.”

Everyone turns to Kris Kringle ready for him to relay his side in the rescue …

Part 2: Kris’s Story

Kris Kringle leans forward, his voice deep and steady. “When I left wrestling years ago, I joined the Watchers—an ancient order tasked with keeping vigil over the world’s darkest evils. My assignment took me to the Carpathian Mountains, to a lonely outpost near Castle Dracula.”

He pauses, eyes distant. “But I never stopped watching NPCW. Week after week, I saw the darkness grow—The Alphas, The Dark Dominion. Yet I also saw the heroes of the North stand firm. Rudolph, Van Helsing, the Misfits, the Blonde Bombshells—they held the line.”

His voice lowers. “Then I saw hope begin to fracture. Santa falling into shadow. The rise of Sinister Klaus. I nearly returned then…but I didn’t.”

Ms. Sweetins leans in, eyes wide with admiration. Kris glances at her, sorrow flickering in his gaze. “Your envoy Buckle and his companion Sorina found me. They brought your plea for help.”

Sweetins beams, but Kris’s next words dim her smile. “I told them the troubles of NPCW were not mine. That was a mistake. One I regret.”

A tear slips down Sweetins’ cheek. Kris sees it and his voice softens. “I should have come then.”

Van Helsing leans forward. “Why did you come back?”

Kris nods. “Good question, Abraham. After Buckle and Sorina left, I watched an episode of Polar Power. Sinister Klaus appeared—and something was missing.”

He turns to Santa. “He didn’t have the twinkle.”

Santa smiles knowingly.

“They can clone the body,” Kris continues, “but not the magic. Those of us touched by it can see it in each other. I missed it before.”

He lifts a glowing golden disc. “This disc pinpoints those who carry the spark. I used it to locate Augustus—and it didn’t shine on the North Pole. It lit up the wilderness of Alaska.”

Ace Macdogal, in his thick Scottish brogue, whistles. “Quite the powerful artifact.”

Kris nods. “Indeed. In the wrong hands, it could be used for great evil. That’s why I’m its caretaker. And when my time ends, another with the spark will take up the mantle.”

He clears his throat. “Once I confirmed the truth, I found Buckle and Sorina. We used the magical snowglobe and the disc to transport ourselves to Alaska. There, I contacted the Hunter’s Enclave.”

Van Helsing grins. “Good ole Robbie.”

Kris smiles. “Yes, Robbie said he had two agents nearby—the River Reapers, Tom Sawyer and Huck Finn. They scouted the complex ahead of us.”

Tom Sawyer pipes up. “Yeah, Huck and I saw a lot of activity. The place was crawling. We weren’t sure how we’d get in.”

Kris nods. “When we arrived, it was clear sneaking in wasn’t an option. We considered a full assault. But then…”

Buckle chuckles. “As we mapped out plans, a figure emerged from the brush—it was Santa.”

Kris smiles. “He’d escaped on his own. I used the red cloak to confirm it was truly him.”

Santa’s eyes twinkle. “You don’t know how glad I was to see you.”

Kris finishes, “We returned to the North Pole just in time to help at Shadowfall.”

Part 3: Next Steps

The group gathers around the hearth, the tension slowly giving way to reflection and resolve.

Van Helsing strokes his chin. “I’ll reach out to Robbie. We’ll get some protection for James—he’s earned it.”

Lady Molly nods. “Sherlock, Watson and I will continue our investigation into Moreau and Dr. Goodfellow. Tonight gave us plenty to work with.”

Sherlock adjusts his scarf. “Indeed. The psychological reprogramming division may be the key to unraveling the whole thing.”

Watson scribbles notes. “We’ll start with the lab locations and cross-reference with known NPCW events.”

Meanwhile, Rudolph approaches Kris Kringle. “So… are you here to win the Universal Title?”

Kringle chuckles, shaking his head. “No, Rudolph. My time in the ring has passed. Santa and I agree—the title chase belongs to you, Van Helsing, and the younger generation.”

Rudolph sighs. “I feel like I’ve failed. I lost to Sinister Klaus… and then the North Pole Title to Mean Jack Mason.”

Kringle places a hand on Rudolph’s shoulder. “Champions rise, fall, and rise again. That’s the way of it. You are the Shining Light, Rudolph. You must keep fighting. You’ll be key in the battle ahead.”

Rudolph nods slowly, the weight of disappointment easing just a little.

The fire crackles as the group begins to disperse. Quiet conversations echo through the workshop—plans forming, alliances strengthening.

Santa watches them go, his eyes full of hope. “We’ve taken the first step. Now we prepare for what’s coming.”

Epilogue 1: Father and Daughter

Ms. Sweetins and Kris Kringle walk side by side down a snow-dusted path, their breath curling in the crisp night air.

Kris glances over, voice tinged with regret. “I am so sorry I didn’t come immediately when you asked…”

Ms. Sweetins smiles softly. “I’m just glad you did come. You warned me when I left to join NPCW that you were done with this world. That I’d have to succeed on my own. That’s why I chose this name.”

Kris’s eyes glisten. “Yes, but this was different. Not regular wrestling drama. You’re my daughter, Kristine, and I should’ve been there for you.”

Sweetins stops and turns to face him. “Well, you’re here now. And I’m happy. When can we tell everyone who I am?”

Kris’s expression darkens slightly. “Not yet. There’s too much danger. Moreau, Vlad, the Alphas… and now Vantrell. Darkness looms over NPCW.”

Ms. Sweetins nods, understanding the weight of his words. She steps forward and hugs him tightly, her arms wrapped around the man who had once walked away from it all.

“I’m proud of you,” Kris whispers.

She smiles, tears glinting in her eyes. “I’m proud of you too.”

They part ways at the fork in the path—Sweetins heading toward her cozy cottage, Kris continuing toward his lodging beneath the northern stars.

Epilogue 2: Shadows and Schemes

The wind howls softly through the trees as Kris Kringle walks the snowy path toward his lodge. The moon casts long shadows across the trail, and the crunch of his boots is the only sound—until a figure steps from the darkness.

Green fur glistening under the moonlight, Grinch Heyman emerges with a smug grin. “Kris, Kris, Kris,” he drawls. “I thought we agreed you’d wait until I said it was time to come back.”

Kringle doesn’t slow. “You flatter yourself if you think I answer to you, Heyman. The emergence of Sinister Klaus changed everything. This goes beyond the Dark Dominion and the Alphas. It’s meddling with ancient magics—and that I cannot allow.”

Heyman’s lips purse. “You worry too much. Things would’ve worked out. Now the plan has to change.”

Kringle stops, turning to face him. “Speaking of plans… was it really necessary for Rudolph to lose the North Pole Title to Mean Jack Mason?”

Heyman smirks. “Why do you think I wanted the Guiding Light to lose?”

Kringle’s eyes narrow. “Rudolph told me…”

Heyman frowns. “There are many threads at play, Kringle.”

Kringle chuckles. “And the house always wins—at the expense of others.”

He turns and continues toward his lodge, the snow swirling behind him. Heyman remains in the path, his grin fading.

He mutters to himself, “Fool. You underestimate the danger of the Dominion… and the coming darkness.”