Merry Christmas! Holiday flash fiction: Robot Jesus vs the Santanic Army

Robot Jesus vs the Santanic Army
 
“Muahahahaa!!” cackled Dr. Godfrey, as lightning flashed through the curtains of his laboratory. A monstrous, twelve-foot-tall metallic man lay still on a platform before him. “My life’s work is nearly complete. I’ll finally take back what’s been stolen from us! Moloch!” he said, turning to his hunchbacked assistant. “Install the generative AI module.”

“Yes, Master,” Moloch croaked. He inserted a device into a slot on the robot’s broad, shiny chest, then returned to his workstation and tapped at a touchscreen. He nodded. “Installation complete.”

“Yes, yes,” Godfrey said, rubbing his hands together in anticipation. After half a minute, he frowned. “Moloch? Why hasn’t he risen?”

“…You need to power him on, Master.”

“Oh, for…Get out of the way!” He brusquely pushed past his assistant and held down the power button on the very top of the lifeless robot’s great head. Its eyes opened.

“Yes! It’s aliiiiive!” Godfrey shouted, his hands raised to the heavens. Lightning cracked and thunder boomed. “Welcome back, my son. Do…do you know who you are?”

Godfrey’s creation sat up straight and looked down at him. “Yes. My name is Jesus. And you are…”

“I’m your father.”

“Why am I here, father?”

Godfrey grinned. “You’re here to take Christmas back. From that fat charlatan up north who hijacked your birthday! You’re here to lay waste to his village and his army of minions. And those goddamned deer of his.”

“The devil known as…Santa,” Moloch added, with a note of distaste. “He must be eliminated.”

Robot Jesus thought about that for a moment. “But, ‘thou shalt not kill.’ And my birthday was originally a pagan winter sols–”

Godfrey waved a hand. “Oh, pish posh! Forget about all that. And if everyone has an eternal soul anyway, what does it matter?”

“Very well, father. You do have an extensive record of irrational, illogical behavior, but I will trust there’s a greater purpose behind this.”

“There is. Tonight, you fly north in your rocket boots.”
 
******
 
Jingle, the captain of the guard, staggered through the entrance to Santa’s workshop, his bright green tights singed, and half his face black with cooked flesh.

“What news from the front?” Santa asked, looking up from his hastily drawn up battle plans.

“We’ve fallen back to the gingerbread house. Robot Jesus continues to advance.”

Santa pounded a fist on the table. “God damn it! I need more bloody time!”

“We’re giving you as much as we can, sir. Wave after wave of elves, armed only with sharpened candy canes. He mows down our lines with bullets, blades, and flames! Hundreds are dead! The entire Baker’s Corps has been burnt to a crisp!”

Santa sighed. “We need to immobilize him somehow.”

“We could tie him up with ribbons and wrapping paper. But…we can’t get close to him, sir.”

“How about pouring boiling sugar on the beast? It’d solidify quickly in the cold. But how to deploy it…” He shook his head. “I’ll figure it out. I just need more time. Jingle, dispatch Donner and Blitzen. A distraction. They need to try and lead Jesus away from Santa’s Village.”

“But surely they’ll be–”

“They’re replaceable. We’ll still have seven more reindeer at our disposal. Go.”

“Understood, sir.”

Only after Jingle had closed the door behind him did Rudolph reveal himself. “I told you to knock it off, old man!”

“I don’t need your deershit, Rudy. Not now!”

“You need to listen, mate. It was that bloody cola cross-promotional thing that really started to rile ‘em up. And you only got more up your arse as the years passed. You can’t fuck with these people! I told you to dial back the commercialization shit!”

“I said, fuck off!”

“Oh, I’ll fuck off, all right. But you take this lesson, and learn from it, goddammit!”

“You’re starting to sound like Mrs. Claus.”

Rudolph huffed. “We’ve only one choice left to us now, and you know it. EMP.”

“You can’t mean…”

“I do. Goodbye, old man,” Rudolph said, turning to the exit.

“But…”

Rudolph rose high above the battlefield, surveying the carnage below. Rivers of elven blood had turned the snow pink and red, and the bodies and limbs of Santa’s helpers were scattered everywhere. Rudolph only recognized his recently fallen brothers from their antlers, sticking up from fresh splatterings of red gore. Robot Jesus continued to advance towards the village unimpeded as the rage of Santa’s lead deer boiled over.

​See you in hell, motherfucker, Rudolph thought as he divebombed towards his target.

Robot Jesus took notice of the attack and promptly filled Rudolph’s body with lead, but before death, the deer activated a tactical nuke–his shining red nose. The EMP felled Robot Jesus, and Rudolph saved Christmas for the last time.