If a team of heavily armed Ebenezers crashed
your Christmas party and threatened to end the festivities once and for all, what would
you do? These sickos make the Wet Bandits look like
Buddy the Elf, and I’m not just talking about their holiday spirit. In addition to being lifelong members of the
naughty list, they’ve got the equipment and the manpower to pull off the holiday heist
of the century, just as long as no one else gets there first. Whatever the case, they’d better watch out,
cuz you-know-who is coming to town, and he’ll be dishing out a lot more than coal to all
the bad boys and girls. I’m going to break down the mistakes made,
what you should do, and how to beat the Grinch Squad in Violent Night. It’s that time of year again, and you know
what that means: legions of red and white clad inebriates stumbling merrily between
every bar in town. Here’s one now. Although judging by the way he’s cracking
those walnuts with his bare hands, I’d say this is no ordinary Santa crawler. And then there’s the fact he’s got a gift
wrapped up for the bartender’s grandson. This might actually be the real deal we’re
looking at. Now, I know what you’re thinking, “but
Nerd, just cuz some fat drunk is handing out Christmas presents doesn’t mean my parents
lied about Santa being fake to cover for the fact I was too much of a little bozo to get
anything,” and that’s a fair point. There’s just one thing: Boom. Checkmate, Kringle deniers. Oh, yeah, there’s also the fact he just
took off from the roof in a sleigh pulled by a team of flying ungulates. Seems like Old Saint Nick is really playing
fast and loose with his secret identity. Better be careful, bro. What will all the snot-nosed brats think if
your cut-rate opsec gets you got by some shadowy government organization? Let’s face it. Someone out there thinks you owe them taxes. Plus, you’ve been violating the airspace
of basically every country on Earth since before airspace even became a thing. Whatever. All in a night’s work, right? Speaking of which, is it just me or does he
seem a little burnt out on the whole “traveling around the world delivering presents for nothing
in return” business. Sure, keeping up with the ever-growing demands
of today’s youth must be exhausting, but at this point he could probably just leaflet
entire towns with Robux cards like they’re about to be firebombed and call it good. You gotta work smarter, not harder, big man. Eventually, Santa’s Yuletide bender leads
him to the lavished Lightstone residence, where we find our more-relatable characters. Here, Jason Lightstone and his ex-wife Linda
have slapped a little flex seal on their relational rift to give young Trudy some semblance of
a normal holiday post separation. Although, if that’s really the goal here,
they should have probably ridden it out with Linda’s side, cuz Jason’s family puts
the Griswold’s to shame. Let’s meet them all, shall we? How endearing. I sure hope nothing horrible happens to all
of them, especially not all at once. Of course, that only leaves the hostess and
matriarch of the family, billionaire business mogul and four-letter wordsmith, Gertrude
Lightstone. See, you can tell she’s really materialistic
by how she talks on her phone instead of greeting her loved ones. Dead giveaway. After what I can only imagine must have been
the most obnoxious Christmas dinner in history, the revelers break off to unwind in various
wings of the mansion, and that’s when things get interesting, starting with the front gate. “Hmmm, a mysterious stranger with no business
being out here randomly showing up in the middle of the night. Better take my eyes off him while I use the
phone,” he thought, before getting shot in the head. Oh, and it only goes downhill from here. I mean, you’d think a plutocrat’s security
detail would become suspicious when the catering staff all randomly drop what they’re doing
and vanish at the same time. Then again, they say you get rich off the
money you don’t spend, and if that’s the case, it would certainly explain why these
rent-a-cops react like they got hired straight out of the nearest Chuck-E-Cheez. For real, at least try putting up a fight. Most of you heard the bad guys popping off
ahead of time, and yet not a single one of you manages to squeeze off so much as one
round in their direction. Nothing more pathetic than dying with a full
mag. At the very least, the guards on the inside
should have tried reinforcing the front door, or I dunno, maybe not stand right out in the
open where they could get their crap rocked by dynamic entry. Ultimately, the primary objective is to protect
the client, not the property, so as soon as the shooting started, we should have had every
surviving unit fallback to the package’s location and escort her to the most defensible
part of the house. As for calling in backup, the attackers had
their inside man disable the landline and internet, but did anyone think to try 911
on a cellphone? Of course not, which is why the Lightstone’s
will be spending this Christmas at the whims of cold-blooded killers instead of ruthlessly
vying for control of Mommy’s empire, although I’m sure there’ll still be plenty of that. Fortunately for, well, Gertrude, there’s
a hidden panic room she can use to ride this mess out comfortably, only it seems someone
already beat her to it. I’m sorry. I think what you meant to say was, “shoot
the visibly armed man obstructing our path to safety during a home invasion.” You literally just delivered this scumbag
a firearm by having a man charge in like that and look at what happened. Seriously, granny’s goon squad is the polar
opposite of trigger happy. They’re straight up trigger depressed. If I had her money, I’d want my bodyguards
to be like the ED-209 from Robocop. Bonus points if they only spoke some obscure
language, so my enemies couldn’t even beg for mercy. With security taken care of, the attackers
begin rounding up the Lightstone’s and mopping up any remaining members of the household
staff. I guess it’s safe to say the butler wasn’t
in on it this time around. And where’s Papa Noelle when all this is
unfolding? Why, he’s upstairs passed out in a massage
chair. God dang, if this is his normal pace, no wonder
people stopped believing. Good thing Scrooge’s henchmen aren’t running
sub-sonics. Otherwise, our hero might have slept through
the entire ordeal. Yeah, things aren’t looking great downstairs. Time to phase shift our way back up the chimney
and GTFO. We can land at the next house over and call
for help from there. Only problem is, all of Santa’s binge drinking
seems to be keeping him from rising to the occasion. And to make matters worse, it sounds like
someone’s sweeping the second floor. Oh, yeah? Then why’d you try and hide behind the Christmas
tree? Instead, you should have used your mid-tier
demi-god strength to barricade the door with furniture while you waited on your biotics
to cool down. For real, you saw what was going on downstairs. You’re lucky he didn’t dome slice you
the second you popped out. Speaking of which, Uncle Scrooge made it expressly
clear they were to shoot on sight anyone who wasn’t a member of the Lightstone family,
so I guess this moron must have skipped the mission brief. They should have all known ahead of time what
each member of the family looked like to avoid any full-metal oopsies. Of course, had our nameless henchman done
what he was told, this whole episode would be a lot shorter, as it turns out Saint Nick
isn’t one to get pushed around. I know it’s Christmas and everything, but
you gotta believe the last thing this guy expected going into this was getting his butt
kicked by a living holiday mascot. That said, you don’t have to believe in
Santa Claus to know sending your guys to clear a giant mansion by themselves is how you wind
up with a full-blown Diehard situation. Dude was just asking to get iced. Unfortunately, our jolly old action hero is
a far cry from Jack Reacher, and while he may have come out on top, it wasn’t before
the goon’s panic fire could drive away his deer-powered exfil. Looks like we’re gonna be hoofing it from
here on out. Well, better get going. These six presents for all the kids that still
actually believe in Santa Clause aren’t going to deliver themselves. Nah, just kidding. You know he’s gotta have a last-minute change
of heart after seeing young Trudy and family being held hostage. I guess this must be the first horrific event
to ever take place on Christmas Eve. Honestly, dude, I think your best bet for
helping these folks would be to fish an iPhone out of that sack of yours and dial up the
professionals. Sure, you managed to waste one of these fools,
ya know, barely, but you have absolutely no idea where the rest are, how many there are,
and what they might be packing. I mean, you didn’t even think to frisk the
dead one’s corpse for weapons or any other useful items. That drop-dead gorgeous HK 416C of his might
have stayed up top, but even a combat knife would be better than going back in empty handed. However, while Santa might not have the bad
guy’s level of equipment or training, there’s one thing he does have they could never possibly
imagine, and that’s a bottomless bag of tricks from which he can draw any number of
assorted playthings. Sure, most of them are going to be cheap plastic
garbage, but ya never know until you try, and there’s some pretty screwed up rugrats
out there. Whatever he chooses, he’d better do it quick,
because here comes yet another lone sentry whose name I don’t care to look up. Really, Santa? Friggin Annabelle is what you’re going with? Might wanna keep digging. I know for a fact there was at least one good
little boy out there who asked for a loaded KP-15 this holiday season. Not that it’d make a difference, as even
after he manages to disarm the hoser, he still fails to grasp the most intuitive thumb safety
that ever existed. Oh, well, at least he can fall back on his
brawler skills to carry him through the rest of this encounter, and might I say, the big
man delivers a banger of a coup de grace this time around. Nothing says “Merry Christmas” like the
smell of burning human skin. Smells like, victory. Okay, that was cool and all, but once again,
we barely made it alive, and this time we even sustained a few injuries in the process. If we’re gonna take out the rest of these
psychos, we’re going to have to think outside the box and take full advantage of our unique
loadout. First of all, I’m taking the dead man’s
carbine and equipment and carrying it with me; however, as we work our way through the
naughty list, we can stash any other weapons we find in our magic bag Fallout style until
we’re strapped up like a big, fat, drunk, disgruntled Yuletide Rambo. And speaking of Santa’s sack, that gives
me an idea. Let’s rewind back to this last fight for
a second. You see how he reaches his whole arm into
the bag while the henchman is holding it? Well, if it’s truly bottomless, then who’s
to say we couldn’t sneak up on these guys and cast it over them headfirst, leaving them
trapped in a limbo-like pocket dimension for us to haul them back to the North Pole. From there we could put them to work in the
gingerbread mines, where they would toil ceaselessly and without rest until their withering bodies
inevitably succumbed to the freezing temperatures and inhumane conditions. And then we feed them to the reindeer. Wait a minute. What was I talking about? Oh, right, right, the hostage situation. Yeah, another essential piece of kit in Santa’s
arsenal is the naughty list. Evidently, it has some sort of proximity feature
that shows us the names of every dirtbag in the vicinity. From this, we know there’s only six left,
but we also have intel on them like prior misdeeds and general character information. I’m not saying we call their Mom’s or
anything, but leaving messages in the blood of their fallen comrades addressing them by
name would probably be quite an effective psyop, and might even cause them to lose their
nerve and GTFO. Something simple like, “Dear so-and-so,
I know you’re mean to dogs, and I’m gonna cut your head off.” Of course, given the Santa in this universe
must spend the other 364 days of the year drinking water liquids, he doesn’t even
take the dude’s piece. Instead, all he thinks to grab is the walkie-talkie,
which yeah, it’s a good idea, but come on. By now you’ve almost certainly delivered
enough annual Call of Duty releases to have at least a foggy grasp of modern firearms. All right, fine. The good news is that we finally have a way
of communicating with the outside world, and there’s even someone on the inside that
can help us out. Well, she’s no Anna Grimsdottir, but she
can still give us some idea of what’s going on. At the very least, she can tell us how many
bad guys are in the room with her and when they come in and out so we know what to expect. Now, you’re probably wondering how she got
her hands on a radio in the first place. It turns out her dad was too lazy to take
her to the mall this year, so he took the cheapest possible route and gave her a glorified
baby monitor for her to share her wish list with Santa directly. Talk about dramatic irony. As for why the guards are fine with one of
their hostages visibly holding a portable radio, well, that’s because they’re all
incredibly stupid. Seriously, just cause she’s a kid doesn’t
mean she won’t accidently tune in Solid Snake. For Christ’s sake, at least take the batteries
out. As for Santa, now that he has a radio, he
decides to pull a John McClain and speak directly to Mr. Scrooge himself. I mean, they’ve already found one of the
bodies and currently have him on surveillance camera, so it’s not like he’s losing the
element of surprise here, but now they know he’s listening in on their communications. We should have just stayed quiet and tried
to sponge up as much as we could. On the other hand, now’s the perfect opportunity
to leverage our morality-based omniscience to toy with them a bit, maybe broadcast some
of their dirty laundry over the airwaves and stir things up a little. That said, a much better use of our radio
would be to try and reach the authorities. Naturally, a small unit like this won’t
have much range, so we’ll want to start walking towards town and look for any high
points where we can scan for traffic and send out an SOS. Obviously, we won’t know for sure whether
we’re actually communicating with the enemy, so we’ll want to keep moving between each
transmission and try to get our message out across as many channels as possible. First thing’s first, however. Like I said before, Santa took some damage
in that last bout with the baddies, and from what I know about Kringle anatomy, he’s
going to need more than a few sugar cookies to fill in that health bar. We should check the guard shack to see if
there’s a first aid kit lying around. I’m definitely not a doctor, but from what
I saw during the fight, his injuries are fairly superficial, so even as little as a roll of
duct tape or tube of super glue would probably tie him over for the rest of the night. Regardless of what we use, the last thing
we want to do is dress our wounds back in the mansion where one of the bad guys could
stumble upon us at any second. Oh, well, at least we get to check out all
his bad butt Celtic tattoos while he patches himself up with Christmas ornaments and…
what is that, wrapping paper? Look, I know you’re Santa Claus and all,
but ya think maybe you’re taking the holiday schtick a bit too far with that one? What’s next, intravenous eggnog? Just tear off part of your shirt and use that. Meanwhile, on the other side of the house,
Trudy manages to give her captors the slip and run off to the attic, because apparently,
maintaining control over a seven-year-old is more than a gang of hardened criminals
can possibly handle. And how do you think they address this situation? By sending a single member of their team to
go look for her, of course. Yeah, never mind the fact there’s a festive
vigilante out there hunting you down one by one. And speak of the devil, look who’s back
in action. Now would be a great opportunity for that
Santa sack sneak attack I mentioned earlier. Nah, you’re right. That’d never work. Better to just grab a length of dime-store
tinsel and go for the 47. Give me a break. You’re honestly lucky that Santa statue
gave you away and forced you to retreat before you actually went through with that nonsense. Unless that crap was made of paracord, best
case scenario it snaps the instant you put pressure on it and then she stabs you straight
through the eye socket. As for her, I’m not sure why she wouldn’t
just shoot out his legs and slap a couple tourniquets on to keep him conscious through
the interrogation. Let’s be real; you’re not actually going
to let any of these people go. They’ve seen all your faces and you’ve
already smoked enough bodyguards and house staff to put your grandkids in jail. Anyone with a brain could tell you’re just
keeping them around to make sure you get what you want, and then it’s out with the silver
plastic. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter, because the
mark corners himself almost immediately, prompting Mr. Scrooge to demonstrate his novel breaching
technique. Jesus. And they say video games don’t teach you
anything valuable. With the loose end tied down, the crooks start
pressing the big man for answers, but they’re having trouble getting past the whole, “I’m
literally Santa Claus” thing. I can’t imagine why. You realize no matter how many giftwrapped
ukulele’s they pull out of that bag, there’s no way they’re ever going to believe you’re
for real, right? Might as well just tell them you’re a deep
cover agent from the department of labor here to investigate Gertrude for using cub scouts
as bodyguards. Although, at this point, there’s really
nothing you could say to keep them from putting from putting a bullet in your brain. Well, almost nothing. Just then, Kringle remembers the ace up his
sleeve and uses his intimate knowledge of their childhoods to get under their skin,
and just in time for a Christmas miracle to occur. Nah, it’s actually Trudy dumping Styrofoam
into the ventilation system, but the ruse distracts them long enough for Santa to slip
his restraints and zip up the chimney, and not a moment too soon. Bad guy number 1 nearly put a cap in his jolly
butt. Finally, things are looking up. Oh, and what’s this I see? Why it’s none other than the Lightstone’s
famous “kill squad” here to terminate the intruders with extreme prejudice. Now, this is the kind of security detail I
was talking about. “Oh, there was no break in, officer. And don’t mind all these drums of hydrofluoric
acid; they’re purely medicinal.” Of course, just when it looks like we might
be getting out of this mess, here comes Gertrude’s smooth-brained son in law to throw a wrench
in the works. Turns out he was able to briefly incapacitate
one of the triggermen before parkouring his way to freedom. It’s too bad the other guy couldn’t have
gunned him down before he inevitably did something stupid that further jeopardized everyone else’s
lives. Can’t wait to see how he screws this up. Huh, maybe these guys take their nickname
a little too seriously. I guess that means the naughty list just got
a whole lot longer. Kinda makes you wonder if Gertrude didn’t
replace Christmas bonuses with the Jelly of the Month club. Whatever their motivation, these guys aren’t
screwing around, and it looks like they even brought a present for Santa. Surprise! It’s an M240 Bravo. Just think as you’re forced to jump off
a two-story building while racing a machinegun, you could have simply walked a few miles through
the snow and made this someone else’s problem. Now you're trapped inside a tool shed surrounded
by a team of elite mercenaries about to get down on some real-life Ready or Not. One thing’s for sure, it’s gonna take
a lot more than Christmas cheer to get Santa out of this one. If he ever wants to see Mrs. Claus again,
he’s gonna have to think back to his days as Nicomund the Red, and what better way to
channel your inner Viking warlord, than by smashing a few dozen skulls with a sledgehammer. Yeah, I’m gonna have to retract my previous
comments about these guys being elite, or even remotely useful. I mean, either Gertrude found these guys in
the same soldier of fortune bargain bin as her in-house team, or we’re looking at the
third-string kill squad, cause this gang of Airsoft LARPers couldn’t clear a tiny home. Sure, I get Santa’s had some kind of rapid-onset
spiritual renaissance that’s brought him back to a time in his life when he wasn’t
just some bumbling altruistic drunk, but these every single one of these losers is supposed
to be a hardened killer, and not a single one manages to squeeze of a shot that’s
not directly into his own foot. Not to mention the morons that walk right
past the giant wearing red and white before getting their brains knocked out. Unworthy opponents aside, Santa does straight
up murder a dude using a sharpened candy cane, and I think every one of us would be lying
if we said we haven’t at least thought about something like that after whittling one done
to a friggin icepick. Gotta give him points for that one. As for the cannon fodder, I gotta wonder why
they would even go in there in the first place. Their orders were to kill the man, not take
him alive, so they should have just propped the 240 on a snowmobile and filled that crap
shack full of lead until the roof caved in. After that, just set the rest on fire and
wait for the smell of melted cookies. I mean, for Christ’s sake, they all had
M67 frag grenades the entire time, and no one even thought to bust one out until he
was already out of the building. Honestly, it’s a good thing they were working
with the bad guys, cause if this is how they stack up against a single dude armed with
hand tools, God knows Mr. Scrooge and company would have wiped the floor with them. That said, we aren’t exactly dealing with
the North Hollywood boys here. Turns out the robbers are still on the hunt
for young Trudy, and unfortunately for them, she just watched Home Alone last night. Bro, you say that now, but you’re about
to have the worst day of your entire life. Gotta say, I’m not sure whether she watched
the actual Home Alone, or the video we made on it, because it’s clear her traps are
a bit more inspired that the real McCallister’s. I mean, a framing nail through the chin, that’s
just poetry, especially once he falls back onto the welcome mat of death. Naturally, she couldn’t have known Gingerbread
would be stupid enough to let one of the bowling balls drive the point across, but given everything
else she had in place something would have crossed him off eventually. Seriously, it’s nothing short of a miracle
our Femme Fatale was able to make it to the end. After being repeatedly bludgeoned and partially
scalped, you’d think she’d find this more trouble than its worth. Like, so what if some brat is up in the attic. There’s no way she knows anything that’ll
get you inside the safe, and aside from fortifying one small part of the house, there’s not
a whole lot she can do to get in your way. Sure, she has the walkie-talkie, but given
it’s barely more than a toy, there’s no way she’ll be able to actually reach anyone
that could help. Well, except for one person. Shoulda squeezed trig when you had the chance,
lady. Like the saying goes, “he who hesitates
gets his chest caved in by Santa Claus,” and that’s not all. Better close your eyes, Trudy. Back downstairs, things are starting to heat
up. Using the kill squad’s key, McDuck finally
gains access to the vault, only it looks like his swan dive into cash will have to wait. Crap, man, try watching that Troll movie. However, before Scrooge can get this party
started, Jason break down and admits he swiped the money sometime the night before, and to
that I gotta say BS, dude. You mean to tell me this manlet moved three
hundred million dollars by himself in a single night? That’s over three and a quarter tons of
hundred dollar bills, and this guy looks like he can barely lift up his purse. Also, it’s cool that you’re willing to
take the agro for your family right now, but Jesus Christ, man. You robbed your own mother on Christmas Eve. Santa’s gonna give you the entire coal mine
for that one. And sure enough, it turns out Jason wasn’t
lying about pulling the heist. He even had the nerve to stash it all in the
nativity scene of all places. Unfortunately, what he failed to take into
consideration is the very obvious fact he and his family will be completely useless
to the robbers once they have what they want, and that’s bound to be bad for their health. Yeah, you probably should have lied and told
them you already moved it somewhere off the property to buy your loved ones a little extra
time while Scrooge’s team followed up. Lucky for them, the one inept guard that was
left with them to do the deed couldn’t just mag dump into them and get it over with. No, he had to make it into some kind of ridiculous
game, which of course gave them time to Bugs Bunny him into confusion before beating his
butt to death with fireplace tools, ya know, as a family. And what perfect timing. Here comes Santa Claus with Linda’s small
daughter to check out the man they just brutally killed. I’m joking of course. Trudy’s well beyond traumatizing at this
point. She’s probably going to wind up one of those
people that cleans up crime scenes for a living, that is, assuming they make it out of her
alive. Although, given Santa’s passing out H&Ks
for Christmas, I’d say that’s becoming a lot more likely. Ordinarily, I’d make some remark about how
blasting quail with your dad doesn’t really lend itself to shooting it out with mercenary
commandos, but given what we’ve seen from these guys so far, I’d say it’s probably
far more difficult. I mean, check it out for yourself. She doesn’t do half bad. At the very least, she creates enough of a
diversion for Jolly Old Saint Nick to come in and start bashing people to death with
his hammer. That said, with the amount of unused firepower
left lying around the property, he could have armed Alva and Bertrude as well, along with,
ya know, himself. All together they might have been able to
pin Scrooge and his men down before they could run off with grandma. But, no, don’t even bother trying to harness
modern weaponry. “Oh, I’m Santa Claus. I couldn’t possibly figure out how to use
an assault rifle, but here let me just hop onto a snowmobile and operate it perfectly.” Spare me, dude. You’ve had hundreds of years to figure out
what a firearm is, and over sixty years for the AR platform alone. Better get with the program before word gets
out about your existence and Hans Gruber shows up at the North Pole. Of course, you wouldn’t have to have an
in-depth understanding of current weapons or vehicles to recognize an obvious trap when
you see one. Why, the heck would the big bad be standing
out in the open, literally daring you to run him down unless he was planning on turning
the tables somehow? The only thing dumber than falling for that,
was Scrooge himself tricking Santa into crashing when he could have easily just shot him off
the snowmobile and been done with it. I guess what I’m trying to say is that you’re
both idiots, and I really hope this nightmare ends with both of you dying horribly. Unfortunately, I’m rarely that lucky, and
with Sid the Sloth dumping literally all his ammunition blinding firing into nothing, before
launching into hand-to-hand combat with a former Viking, I got a pretty good feeling
I know exactly how this is going to go. Guess again, Scrooge. This guy’s got, size, strength, and experience
on you, and to top it all off he’s literally magic. Zero percent chance this ends without you
getting snapped in half like a graham cracker. However, no amount of physicality or expertise
will carry you if you can’t actually stand up, and once on the ice, Scrooges’s crampons
let him slap Santa around like a hockey puck. It almost makes all the difference, almost. But wouldn’t you know it, this little show
down is taking place in the remnants of an old cabin, and there’s one key part that’s
still intact, which just so happens to be all our hero needs to wrap this one up. Dang, that’s actually a pretty brutal way
to go. It’s not over yet, however, as there’s
still one last member of the kill squad left alive, and it turns out he’s one of the
only ones capable of actually living up to that title. Yeah, ya feel that white-hot burning sensation
through your chest cavity? That’s life’s way of saying “welcome
to the future.” Yeah, so is there anyone that actually believes
this guy who’s had less than five minutes of total screen time is really gonna execute
Santa in cold blood and go on his merry way? If so, you’re probably wondering why he’s
just standing there doing nothing instead of just slapping the trigger five or six times
and getting it over with. Spoiler alert. It’s so Gertrude can come out of nowhere
and get the drop on him at the last second. Shocker, I know. Of course, if you legitimately didn’t see
that coming, then this next part’s really gonna throw you for a loop, because Santa,
he dies. That’s right, sad Christmas. And right in front of Trudy, too. Doesn’t that just make you want to sob uncontrollably
into your popcorn? Except, wait. It seems everyone’s going around saying
how they believe this random dead guy, who as far as they know because they just got
here, never did anything even remotely supernatural is actually the real Santa Claus. That’s right. Grown adults are willing to admit, out loud,
that this dude right here travels around the earth in a single night using a sleigh pulled
by reindeer in order to deliver presents made by magical elves to hundreds of millions if
not billions of people. And they’re just not saying it, either. They absolutely believe this. Ya know how I know this? Because the power of their collective belief
causes him to shrug off four center-mass gunshot wounds and rise from the dead, possibly as
a zombie. Nope, not a zombie. He’s just regular Santa Claus again, at
least for now. And with that, it seems that Christmas at
the Lightstone house was saved, along with hundreds of millions of dollars they got by
siphoning aid money away from a failed state. Merry Christmas, everyone. In the end, Scrooge and all his helpers wound
up on ice, and we didn’t even lose anyone we cared about. That said, the big man could have easily had
the SWAT team on the way before the kill squad arrived, and given how pathetic these goons
were, it probably wouldn’t have gone well for them. Of course, once he decided to take matters
into his own hands, making use of captured enemy equipment along with his own supernatural
abilities would have given Santa a massive tactical advantage over the attackers, and
for that reason, I think the Violent Night was Beaten. Moral of the story, be good, or Santa Claus
will freaking kill you.
