NOTE: PLEASE DO NOT "SHIP" THE CHARACTERS IN THIS STORY. ESPECIALLY SONIC AND MICHAEL JORDAN. SUCH IS A PROFOUNDLY UNHOLY ACT.
"...And then I gave her the Cleveland steamer!" Sonic drunkenly guffawed, celebrating the slaying of the foul Monstars with his fellow compatriot, Michael Jordan. Air Jordan stared contently upon the rising sun and exhaled deeply as his star-spangled brother regaled him with the tales of the sodomous exploits of his youth.
"You know I'm not good with words n' shit, I like to let my genocide speak for me. I've gotta say, out of everyone that I've met in this past month, you're the one that I want to kill the least," Sonic complimented tenderly. He rolled another joint and handed it to Jordan, which he gladly accepted.
"Same to you, my dear brother in arms," Michael Jordan returned the compliment. He took a drag of the joint with his eyes closed, blowing out incredible smoke rings the likes of which Sonic had never seen before.
Sonic's interest was piqued as he noticed Jordan dribbling a basketball made of machine guns that shone bright in the sunrise with a patriotic aura. Garfield panics after losing the key to his chastity device. Again.
"Like it, eh? It's an ancient heirloom passed down in the Lincoln family, originally belonging to the lesser god Benjamin Franklin. That is, before he was slain by Mercenary Pooh. It's known as Slamzor in the common tongue, and it is prophesied that a slam dunk using this divine ball can set off a powerful blast strong enough to destroy an entire continent! I try not to use it, if possible," Air Jordan explained. However, many of his carefully crafted words flew over Sonic's head.
"What is this, nighttime in Nigeria? Look at all of these niggers!" Winnie the Pooh boomed with thunderous laughter over the demise of the Fusion Dew™. He smirked, cockily beckoning Sonic forth with his outstretched digits. Sonic stood alone and unflinching in this barren wasteland of tension. The hedgehog silently burgeoned forth, coming to fearlessly stare down the subhuman mercenary before him.
"My heavenly lords Karl Marx and Joseph Stalin have graciously blessed me with this invincible cyborg body! It was given to me so that I may finally get my revenge against any unwashed shitlord or Jerry's Kids who so foolishly dared to defy me in this past! Tell me, stars and stripes: in the face of such raw Communist might, do you really think you can defeat me?" Pooh guffawed smugly as he met the unwavering gaze of his significantly taller opponent.
This blue fecund of patriotic hellrage cracked a wry grin, thoroughly unimpressed by his enemy. His smirk faded away and he snarled, "I'm not going to defeat you, I'm going to kill you. You goddamned, assraging, curve-peeling, booger-hooking, niggerfurious guinea fuck!"
Sonic's leather skin boots swiftly collided with Winnie the Pooh's firm muscled abdomen, caving in his stomach and causing a freshet of crimson blood to spew from this ill-bred mercenary's mouth. The hedgehog continued by drawing back his fists and gracefully pummeling his churlish foe into submission.
He forced Pooh's silver tongue to silence with each harmonious hack and slash from the Communist-Slayer, utterly ravaging the fuck out of him. Sonic effortlessly shattered all of Pooh's ribs with a savage pelvic thrust, his gun-dick piercing into the golden furred bear's hide like a flurry of knives. He then hoisted Pooh skyward by his nostrils and repeatedly slammed him face-first into the earth. Anne Frank refuses to listen to any kind of music that isn't Norwegian black metal.
"Y-You goddamn baka gaijin! This is impossible!" Winnie the Pooh cried out hysterically. He shakily rose to his feet, wiped away the stream of blood dribbling down his chin, and continued, "There's no way some lowly American fuck freak like you could best me! My upgraded body was supposed to be completely unstoppable, an immortal vessel befitting of the Communist super elite!"
"That's where you're wrong, you New Jersey meathook," A malignant, unearthly voice boomed from beyond the veil of the living, echoing from Karl Marx's testament to everlasting damnation and cruelty: the dark Pestilence-Lord known as Joseph Stalin.
Every Communist legionnaire fell upon their faces in prostration from the sheer feeling of dread that accompanied this torturer of the restless dead. Stalin loomed menacingly over the battlefield, entombed in his Life Fiber armor forged from the endless suffering of Americans and emblazoned with the tears of uncoveted virgins.
He shot Pooh a murderous glare and spoke, "My lord Karl Marx wants you to live a long, miserable, and tortured existence. He wants you to live for time eternal surrounded by those who despise you, forever marred by the shame of failing our Communist lord, never knowing the sweet release of death. That is your fate, Pooh. You are absolutely nothing to us."
Winnie the Pooh trembled and fell to his knees. His blood boiled with murderous, Communist hellrage as he was carelessly cast aside like the most inbred of hellhounds by those of whom he previously worshiped unquestioningly.
"I want to see this full power of yours, you genderfluid niggerkin," Joseph Stalin chuckled in a condescending manner. This confounder of the living used his godless alchemy to bring into existence another flask of the holy Fusion Dew™. Stalin then outstretched his arms, offering the vial to the bikers.
Abraham Lincoln tarried for a brief moment before swiping this plastic ampulla from Stalin and downing its contents in one, hearty gulp. A chorus of angels from the heavens above cried out as hedgehog and president merged and became one, creating an unstoppable warlord known as Sonlincoln the Hedgehog.
"A house divided against itself is still better than you and your goddamn Communism!" Sonlincoln fearlessly hobnobbed in a low voice. He straightened his stovepipe hat and ran his wizened digits through his feathery quills, admiring his new body.
Michael Jordan quaked with anticipation. He stood in awe of Sonlincoln's godlike puissance and faultless patriotic spirit, a power endlessly superior to his own merging with Garfield. Charles Barkley is shocked to learn that Barack Obama is his identical twin.
This warlord of Americanesque shitfury unsheathed the Communist-Slayer and lunged at Stalin, slicing wildly away at his baleful opponent and carving much of his armor to shreds. Sonlincoln then firmly gripped Stalin's face with his sweaty palms and planted his body with unimaginable strength into the earth beneath him.
Before this besotted Marxist hell-lord had any time to counter, Sonlincoln began mercilessly pummeling Stalin's face even deeper into the dirt. The shockwaves of these brutal attacks were so powerful that their divine ferocity could only be compared to deflowering ten billion virgin grizzly bears simultaneously; an undeniably American feat.
The American warmaster raised Stalin's battered body upwards. He grinned with a bloodthirsty smile before finishing his patriotic onslaught by shooting him at point-blank range in the heart with his machine gun, unloading every last bullet into his rended flesh.
"There go the gun click, nine-one-one shit. All over some dumb shit, ain't that some shit? He's fuckin' dead," Sonlincoln curtly chuckled and lowered his head, dissolving his being and splitting apart into his original two halves. Honest Abe was shaken to his very core as he heard the devastated earth behind him begin to faintly shuffle. The president stood aghast as Joseph Stalin arose from the debris, completely unscathed save for his tattered robes.
"Well, that was it? I can't say I'm particularly impressed by this full strength of yours, Abe. Such small wounds are a simple matter for me to heal. And to think, the rest of your petty rabble are even weaker. Karl Marx certainly wasn't wrong about you being weak, brother..." Stalin orated in an eerily calm tone. He charged forth and drew back his leg, effortlessly knocking the demigod Abraham Lincoln unconscious with a swift roundhouse kick to his skull.
Garfield ferociously hurled himself upon Joseph Stalin. However, he could only hold his own against this terrible foe born of Communism for a few brief moments before having both of his legs crushed by a swift chop to the knees. Sonic and the rest of his fellow compatriots ran to duel with Stalin and avenge their fallen allies. But like Garfield, they could barely keep up with this demonic warlord's unutterable puissance.
Michael Jordan watched the ensuing battle from the sidelines, truly realizing the hopelessness of standing up to such an almighty foe. Air Jordan clutched the high-basketball Slamzor in his swarthy hands and forcefully chuckled, knowing of only one option to slay Stalin and this Communist host of millions.
"I always knew there would come a day when this patriotic brotherhood of ours would be totally outclassed, but I could have never predicted so soon. I've thought long and hard on this, and any way you dribble it there's only one way that you six will escape to live another day. Forgive me, my friends..." Michael Jordan smiled tenderly.
He confidently dribbled Slamzor as he turned to stare down the ill-bred Communist warlord afore him. "I know that look. Laddy, surely you aren't planning to...?" Garfield rasped cumbrously, knowing all too well that no mere mortal could survive a heavenly slam dunk from the divine Slamzor. It was suicide to even attempt such a thing.
"Don't forget your promise, Sonic. Take good care of Charles Barkley, and tell him that I'm sorry. I'm not going to make it back this time," Jordan grinned mirthlessly. In an instant, he channeled the full extent of his fuckmurderous hellfury into his fingertips. He soared into the air with Slamzor gripped tightly at the fag end of his outstretched arms, poised to strike.
"MICHAEL JORDAN!" Sonic cried out in vain. Righteous tears welled up in his eyes as his patriotic brother fatefully descended upon Joseph Stalin, instantly incinerating them both in an explosion that consumed everything for miles.
"I've missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I've lost almost 300 games. 26 times, I've been trusted to take the game winning shot and missed. I've failed over and over and over again in my life. And that... that is why I succeed. I have to go prepare, Sonic. After all, we still have one more challenge to face in this accursed tower before reaching the Communist-Slayer. Thank you O' patriotic hedgehog, for everything..." Michael Jordan chuckled with a tremulous smile, waving goodbye to Sonic one, final time.
The battlefield in which these valiant patriots fought had been totally obliterated, leaving in its stead but a few small landmasses scattered amongst a raging ocean of flotsam and jetsam. The surviving Biker Brethren had washed ashore and were spending the time combing through the wreckage. They found no signs of surviving Communists, save for one Mercenary Pooh.
Sonic knelt down upon the blood stained sand, grieving for his fallen ally. "I... I should have killed Stalin when I had the chance. Michael Jordan would still be here if I had only been stronger. This is all my fault," The hedgehog rasped bitterly.
Lincoln sat down next to him and began to shake his head. "Sonic, don't do this to yourself…" He spoke in a low, hoarse voice.
"If I had only wrung out that goddamn Communist's life with my own two hands, if I wasn't so damn weak..." The hedgehog continued, ignoring Lincoln's interjection.
"What's done is done. It wasn't your fault," Lincoln tried to console his American brother. Despite his calm demeanor, it was perfectly clear that he too was mourning the loss of his son.
Sonic buried his face in the palms of his hands and sighed, "I know it wasn't. What's done is done. I couldn't have changed anything. Not a damn thing. And that's what's killing me."
