You are Cyberpunk Santa, a cybernetically-enhanced Santa Claus. You have 10 different weapons built into your body and a jetpack ass. You also have many different cybernetic gadgets that will get you through even the most ridiculous AI-generated situation. It is Christmas Eve 2069, and you are making the final preparations for your annual flight around the world. Despite the fierce battles of World War X taking place all over the planet, you are confident your chrome sleigh and chrome reindeer are more than up for the task. The badass boys and girls of Earth are counting on you! The plane takes off from New York City at midnight, heading east across the Atlantic Ocean. As it nears its destination, you see a bright light in the distance. You look closer and realize the light is coming from the city of London. You quickly change course to avoid getting caught in an explosion caused by a nuclear bomb being dropped there. you cross all the kids of London off the list. You think about how all the kids in your long career have come and gone, and many of them did not live to see this moment. > You have a bunch of extra toys because the children of London are all dead. It's Christmas, and all through the house, not a creature is stirring, because they're all dead. There is nothing but silence in the house, because everyone is dead. As you walk through the rubble of London, you see T3RMIn4L, a sentient computer virus, infects your Santa cyberware, turning you into something completely inappropriate. "T" tar... termind...... merry.. .HAP...py... Fuck you. You're going to go cry like a bitch because the children of London are all dead and this story is shitty. you decide to challenge T3RMIn4L to a virtual snowball fight. You have an an atomic powered snowball cannon which you know will give you the edge. It is now a race to get to the controls before T3RMIn4L infects them. You rush to the computer. You notice that you are no longer wearing pants. > You feverishly type in the launch codes. Your legs are chilly. Your screen flashes a warning that releasing the atomicsnowballs.exe has been prohibited by the European Court of Human Rights. T3RMIn4L has won the game! He gently taps your shoulder. > You smile at T3RMIn4L and politely remind him of Brexit! You say "You have no power here" and run atomicsnowballs.exe. It is now a race to see who can infect the other! T3RMIn4L attempts to send out a virus, and you attempt to avoid it. You pull out your trump card and run "pants.exe" on your jetpack ass computer. T3RMIn4L's pants spontaneously fall down, and he is unable to continue. you have won the game! > You fly to St. Petersburg and deliver presents to all the alive children. You make many friends in St. Petersburg. The children celebrate you as a hero. Eventually, you return to the North Pole and retire from Santa Clause, passing the torch to your successor, David Hasselhoff. > You one, day Oliver Twist, the only surviving irradiated London gutter snipe, visits you at the North Pole. He says you never gave him a present. You tell him to fuck off. > You fire your jetpack ass at Oliver Twist. You fire your jetpack ass at Oliver, but he ducks just in time. It is only after this event that you realize he is much older than he appears, and can easily avoid such a weak attack. You give Oliver his present: a leftover nuke. Oliver cries as the nuke detonates and you walk away slowly like a badass. Merry Christmas. > You drag Oliver's body through the streets of Santa's village as a warning to others. The next day, the villagers drag your body through the streets as a warning to others. David Hasselhoff seizes power as the new Santa and as your being dragged to the North Pole Penguin Bay detention center, you see a tattoo on the back of David's neck that says "T3RMIn4L". Oliver and David are both members of T3RMIn4L. This explains everything. You are beaten to death by angry elves. > You are buried without your pants. Your grave is quickly desecrated by a group of irate goths who steal your body, remove your dick and balls and throw them in the garbage. David Hasselhoff tells you the moral of the story: "If you want to be Santa, you have to pay the price. It's that simple."