It all started on December 24, 2009. It's when it all started. It's when everything started.

It was a snowy Russian evening as he started his worldwide journey of delivering gifts. He was finishing a delivery to another condominium when he and his reindeer flew off to the next child's house. Rudolph, sick with the flu, wasn't there to guide the others in the very cold night air in the blizzard conditions. None of them knew they were about to crash straight into the Ural Mountains.

The sturdy St. Nick was no match for the crash. He soon woke up surrounded by his Paramedic Elves, who were sent to the rescue after they lost him on radar. His face was burned after the Reindeer Speed-Enhancing Engines exploded. His lungs were on the verge of refusing to work. He was losing blood quickly. Santa Claus ordered a substitute delivery man to deliver the remaining presents. Riding on the backs of his still conscious reindeer, Santa Claus was sent back to the North Pole. His Paramedic Elves told him he was going to die... unless.

When he woke up, he was in his bed, with metallic looking liquids flowing into him through IV tubes, he stared at his bedroom mirror, and then he saw himself. Half of his face was replaced with a metal mask, he had support tubes running up his arms to assist his breathing. The horror of it was surrounding him. Santa Claus isn't coming to town anymore, he's never coming back.