Christmas. New Year's Eve. But you're sitting tied up in your living room, with a gun pointed at your head, and armed men roaming your house. No exit. You, who had already forgotten God a long time ago, were now praying and calling on the highest powers, if only someone would help you. If only someone could save you. But it seems everything is hopeless.

At first sight.

A broken door immediately makes it clear to the contrary, they have come to save you. You look at the exit and see him. A large man in a red suit, covered in blood, he held a bag in one hand and a huge sledgehammer in the other. A legendary fairy-tale man who entered people's houses at night through the chimney on Christmas Day and left gifts under the tree, now came to you. What they call him: Babbo Natale, Yul Tomten, Joulupukki, Shan Dan Laozhen, Saint Nicholas or just simply Santa.

He smashes the head of one of the soldiers with a sledgehammer, passing further and looking around gloomily.

"Ho-ho-ho, fucking Christmas trees, looks like this Christmas is going to be so fucking lot of fun."

The sight of the bloody, pumped-up old man was impressive. And especially when he pulled you out of this shit.