There are many theories as to what happens when a person dies. Some say they go to an eternal paradise or eternal damnation, based on how they acted during life. Some say that they turn into something different. Yet others say that they become ghosts and haunt the earth.
You know what I say?
You die.
That's it. Over. Kaput.
Death is a bitch to the dead, but more to the living.
Isn't that right, Shadow?
Isn't that right, I ask your corpse, lying six feet under my feet.
Cause you couldn't take it. Now, I can't.
Jerk.
I swigged the scotch in my bottle, searing my throat but not feeling a thing.
Can't keep it together for everybody, no no, you gotta go and die on us all. Was it to prove something? To prove we all did love you despite your 'devil-may-care' attitude?
Well. Now you know. We do. Happy?
You couldn't just let events happen, let me get shot. Who cares if I die?
Nobody.
Sonic's all alone now. Thanks, buddy.
You'd think that someone who had lost someone else would welcome a little company, but all I got was a quick appraisal of his itinerary:
Write will, say goodbye, kill self, find Shadow.
I don't know if you noticed, but there was no Amy on that list.
So if you did it to set up a new couple, you failed miserably.
I finished off the bottle, chucked it behind me with a crash, and picked up the next.
You took a bullet for me. Thanks a lot. I would have been paid attention to for the first time since he met you, and you had to save my goddamn life.
Save your own, you brainless coon.
Now I'm just a drunk in a cave, out to end my own life. Just waiting for the last two things keeping me here to disappear:
My boy, and my booze.
When he finally cuts his throat, that's one.
Then, when I run out of alcohol to drown in, I'll just find the nearest cliff and jump off. That's the other.
I laughed bitterly.
I have nothing to give away, I sold it for the beer and the scotch. Plus, nobody gives a damn about me, especially not anymore, so that's two things offa his list that I don't need.
I closed my eyes, swaying, and drained the massive container in one gulp.I smiled, feeling the darkness closing in.
Hey, bucko, look on the bright side: You'll see us all real soon. Either that, or like I said, we won't give a shit anymore.
I fell, off of my tree stump and onto the hard forest floor, seeing the world swim and dance around me. I grinned , maybe I'll get myself one of these days just getting wasted in the city, and the gangsters can finish me off.
I laughed crazily, but the mad chuckles descended into uncontrollable sobbing. I cried out at the heavens, at the air around me, and at the dead body underneath me:
Is this what you wanted, you piece of rotting meat?
Is this what you wanted?
"Okay, Jim, we got the news for you tonight, and I hear it's a doozy. Here's your transcript, and we'll start in five minutes. Got it?"
"Yeah, any tips?"
"Haven't read it, I dunno. Stay cool, I guess.""Alright, Pete."
Jim picked up the paper and walked over to his desk in the middle of the studio. He cracked his back and then, with a sigh, looked at the article. He read the heading and saw the picture. He shook his head and tried to clear it. He looked again, shook his head again, looked once more. His head twitched.
"H-hey, Pete, this is a joke, right? Some sadistic joke, right? It ain't fucking funny!" His voice trembled and he was on the verge of tears.
"Dude, what's up? We only got two minutes left, what's wrong? And no, there's no joke."
"Then what the hell is this?" He threw the article at the confused manager."I assume it's tonight's show, is it another stupid one? I know you don't like them, but it can't be too b-" He stopped, dumbstruck.
"What? What the hell? N-no. No, James, did you switch this? This shit isn't funny, goddamn it!"
"Same stuff you gave me." A tear ran down his cheek without a sound. "And that's what I said."
"Holy mother of God. If we run this, I can't even imagine… Jesus Christ."They looked at each other, and knew they had to anyway. Not for the job, not for the money, but simply because they would find out anyway. At least here it was less personal, a little more detached. The stage crew called out a warning for Pete to get off the set. He ignored them and sat next to a silently crying Jim. The crew shrugged, bewildered, and called out,
"We're live in five, four, three, two…"
The red light blinked on, and Pete began to speak.
"Hello, everyone, and welcome to Channel Sixty News, World News Today. I have a very important announcement for all to hear. So kids, get your parents. Get your families watching, and I mean NOW!"
Shocked murmurs ran through the studio. Jim just stared at the camera with a fixed smile, streams of salty water betraying his facial expression."The boss is so canned." said one of the hands.
"Shush, he's still on."
Pete continued, barely holding his voice level. "Everybody see this? Good. Cause now, I have to tell you the biggest tragedy I've ever heard. I will let Jim here say it, as he is as deeply moved as I. Jim?"
Jim twitched and spoke in a slow monotone. "Good evening, all. I'd like to ask you one simple question: Do you know who Sonic the Hedgehog is? I've got another, in fact, two more: Do you know Amy Rose? And how about the mysterious Shadow? Quite the stars, hmm?"Pete broke in. "The heroic hedgies have saved millions of lives all over, and Amy has done her best as well. I'm sure you've seen her fiery attitude at least once."
"However," Jim said, looking down. "Today ended it all. People of Earth, yesterday at approximately five-thirty, Shadow the Hedgehog was killed by an assassin's bullet aimed at the previously mentioned Amy Rose. Early this morning, Sonic the Hedgehog was found in the valley of Mount Entrinit. He had leapt of the edge, friends. At over two-thousand miles per hour. Suicide. Finally, Amy Rose hanged herself in a small apartment downtown. Yes, I repeat, Sonic, Shadow, and Amy Rose are dead. The greatest of heroes are now in the bottom of Entrinit Cemetery. Their wake will be at four o'clock at the Entrinit Funeral Home, and the funeral will be at six-thirty."
Jim broke into sobs and fled. Pete sighed and gazed at the camera, stunned cameramen falling to their knees.
"I must say this, to you skeptics: This is no joke. I must ask all younger viewers to look away, and for all those unwilling to see them in such a gruesome form to do so as well. These are their bodies."
The hollow stage manager pressed a button, revealing the broken forms. He waited a brief few moments, and then removed the images.
"As you can see, today is a day of unimaginable sorrow. Today, the supersonic duo, and a speedy pink ball of joy, are dead." Pete sighed again and put his hands on the desk, pushing himself to his feet.
"All other news is on our website, but for now, this is Channel Sixty News, and I must bid you a very solemn goodnight."
The light blinked off, and Pete dragged himself to their second-story window. He looked out into the sky. A single tear ran down his face.
The next day, parents around the world woke up to awful sights. Children had hanged themselves, using any rope handy. Adults wept, and some followed their example with poison or high cliffs. Obituaries overflowed.
Even more tragically, Channel Sixty ceased to exist that day. Every member was found dead in their own suicidal ways. The worst was that Tails the Fox was discovered lying side-by-side with Pete the stage manager and Jim the studio man. They had blown themselves away with a handy .44 magnum, passed on from one to the next after it had been used.
This is the day that the Sonic Team died.
I put the gun to my mouth and smiled, for the first time since those words had been written.
Sonic's dead?
Well, so am I.
And so the story ends forever.
///
