SONIC THE HEDGEHOG: MAKE AMERICA GREAT AGAIN FINALE — THE SIEGE OF STALINGRAD III

Part 2 - God Is Calling Me Back Home

After a long, grueling battle with his greatest enemy, Sonic has finally succumbed to the might of Communism. However, he was able to deal them a crushing blow before his death. Will Donald Trump's Space Force be able to finish what he started?

AGE 1776 B.C. (Before the Rise of Communism)

"John, Dr. Dre, Oscar, Ice Cube… I pray that you'll find it in your hearts to forgive this pathetic old fool. I failed you all," Meadowlark Lemon spoke in a somber tone.

His hair swayed in the wind while he stood before the graves of his fallen comrades. He knelt down and began to whistle the angelic tune of "Sweet Georgia Brown" in tribute to them, longing for the days of his youth. For the days before the N.W.A. met its tragic end.

Meadowlark shook his head as he heard the sound of footsteps coming from behind. "...Jon Arbuckle. How long have you been standing there?"

This paragon of American masculinity approached the grieving man, his chainsaw-nunchucks already revved up in preparation of a duel to the death. Lemon could only sigh in response to his friend's blatantly hostile intentions.

"Please, don't give me that look. It was bad enough having the rest of the N.W.A turn on me. Must I lose my only remaining friend?" The man pleaded.

Arbuckle chose not to dignify his words with a response, shooting him a murderous glare instead. His silent response told Meadowlark everything he needed to know. He lowered his gaze, crestfallen and on the verge of tears.

"Stop that. Don't look at me as if I'm some monster. I… I had no choice but to kill them! The Harlem Globetrotters are doing what must be done to free this world from the absolute despair of fate! You should understand my motives better than anyone else. Why… why do you insist on raising your hand against me?" Meadowlark asked.

The musclebound cartoonist shook his head. "You still don't understand anything, old friend. Every civilization, no matter how great, must eventually end. What happened to our people, the Native Americans, was a tragedy, but we cannot condemn the future of the new Americans just because our own legacy was cut short. That's your greatest flaw: you still cannot see the beauty of these humble patriots. You have no right to commit genocide against them just to satiate your lust for vengeance! Your hatred has made you just as cruel as the God you despise!"

"You're still disgustingly sentimental, Jon. Taking those two cats as your apprentices has clouded your judgement. Those mongrels don't deserve our aid, nor do they deserve the namesake of the true Americans that they took as their own! They are nothing but fodder for my experiments. And once they finish serving that purpose, I'll wipe those subhuman creatures you call 'patriots' from the face of the earth and start anew. And if you still refuse to step aside, then I'm afraid that you'll have to share their fate," Meadowlark threatened, raising his voice over the crackling of thunder in the sky.

He raised his hand, signalling for his genetically-engineered super soldiers to step in and kill him just as he had killed the rest of the N.W.A. All five of the Super Globetrotters emerged from the shadows and launched themselves at Jon Arbuckle. However, their paltry strength was nothing before the might of this legendary Sunday Funnies warlord.

Jon effortlessly bifurcated Liquid Man and Gizmo, crushed the skulls of Spaghetti Man and Super Sphere, and sliced off the head of Multi Man. He then directed his bloody chainsaws towards Meadowlark Lemon with a smile. "Your move, fuckboy."

The commander of the Globetrotters removed his electric guitar from its case. He raised his iron-forged blade, but didn't appear enthused in the slightest at the prospect of having to slay his former friend. Spears of lightning struck the ground as the two legendary warriors ran towards each other and began their heated fight.

After seven straight weeks of bitter conflict, the victor was decided. Jon Arbuckle fell in battle to Meadowlark Lemon. By the time that Garfield and Nermal discovered their master's corpse, it was already too late. However, in one last act of defiance, Jon split his corpse into a dozen pieces to prevent his enemy from recovering the Gift of Washington he possessed.

All of the pieces on the board had fallen, and the stage was now set for war. Only two more components were needed for the Harlem Globetrotters to complete their master plan: the Gifts of Washington, and a vessel strong enough to contain their almighty power.

And with the unbeatable Larry the Cable Guy at their side, their plan may just come to fruition...

AGE 2010 P.A. (Shortly After Sonic's Death)

"May Abe Lincoln-sama welcome you into the heavenly White House with open arms, may every American fallen in battle before you angelically cry out the hallowed name of Sonic the Hedgehog with love and honor, and may you ascend to your rightful place in the oval office and live as a patriot among patriots for time eternal. Today we lay to rest a great man: an American, a warrior, a hunter of Communists, a father, and to all of us, a friend," Garfield orated in a broken voice.

The Americans gathered for his funeral were unable to hold back their greasy tears as Sonic was laid to rest. As was tradition for time immemorial, his corpse was set ablaze with a flaming arrow and his remains were picked apart by a flock of ravenous bald eagles.

Sonic's headstone read "Kiss my ass, bitches. I'm out." He had chosen these final words before his passing to try and bring some comfort to his allies, showing them that he had remained strong and defiant right up until the bitter end. However, the air was still and the crowd gathered for him was humorless. All his loved ones could do was grieve.

Anne Frank approached the hedgehog's grave to pay her respects, clad from head to toe in black. She fell on her knees, and as if a dam had burst, she began bawling her eyes out harder than ever before. She once wished that she could feel the same feelings of joy and pain as her beloved kinsmen. But now that she had finally gained the emotions she had long sought after, all she wanted was to return to her old self just to be free of this pain.

Richard Nixon rested his hand on his mother's shoulder, trying his best to comfort her. He stiffened his back to stand tall and proud before his father's final resting place. The Timbs he had to fill were terrifyingly large, but he was determined to live up to his father's legacy.

"Sayanora, dad. I… I won't let you down, alright? I'll become the American I know that you'd want me to be. I'll protect mom and everyone else, and I won't let this country you loved so much fall into Communism's hands!" Nixon spoke with a smile. Despite his determined voice, anyone could see that he was on the verge of tears.

Jimmy Neutron closed his bible and gave a long, hard sigh, "Sonic was like cheap toilet paper. Rough as hell and didn't take shit from anybody. He was gruff, stubborn, and hard to get along with in almost every way. But despite all that, he was one of the best damn guys I've ever met. Please show some mercy on that bitch-ass sinner, O' lord. If any of us deserve to enter the eternal kingdom, it's him."

"Smell ya later, little cuz…" Alex Jones stiffened his upper lip and saluted his fallen brother in arms.

Alex remained uncharacteristically silent despite the situation. To an outsider, it would almost seem as if Sonic's death hadn't fazed him in the slightest. But this couldn't be further from the truth. The water filter salesman knew that if he allowed himself to face his feelings and grieve for even a moment, that he would fall apart from the sheer despair of it all.

"Tell me something, Meth. Will things get better after this?" RZA asked, clutching his stocking hat tightly against his chest. "I can't imagine there ever being another man quite like Sonic. How can anyone else be that great? That selfless? That patriotic? He truly was the defender of America. What will become of this country now that he's gone?"

Method Woman shook her head, a grim look plastered across her face. She seemed unsure of the answer herself. "Death. Reflection. Terror. Rebirth. Sacrifice. Betrayal. From the apotheosis of our progenitors was spawned the greatest threat causality shall ever face. And when he reveals his true intent, the cycle of time that dictates our world shall finally come to a close."

The stalwart members of the Space Force turned to Donald Trump for guidance. The flaxen-haired dreamboat sat on a hill that overlooked the horizon, not having joined them for the funeral. Trump wasn't one to participate in such gatherings, choosing to deal with his grief on his own terms.

"What do we do now, Trump-san? You're the boss now that Sonic's gone. Are we just going to parts ways?" Yogi Bear asked. The rest of the American soldiers gathered around him, adding their own questions to the mix.

Trump remained silent. However, he furrowed his brow in disgust as he saw some of the Space Force members walk off in the opposite direction. He blew a great swell of fire into their path, stopping them from leaving.

"What do you think Sonic would have done in this situation, Mr. Bear?" Trump questioned. "That man would never give up so easily. The Communists' main force may have been obliterated, but their fortress still stands. I have no doubt that their leaders survived his onslaught. I plan to kill them all and finish what he started all those years ago!"

Donald's hostile tone faded away, and he cracked a wry grin. He spoke to them while walking towards the door to Fidel Castro's ruined castle, "I'm going in by myself. If anyone else among you are prepared to die, then you're welcome to join me. Just try not to slow me down. I'm going to smother this whole damn planet in a gorgeous inferno of yuge blue flames, and I'll kill anyone who tries to stop me! I'll turn this whole galaxy into a socialist graveyard the likes of which no one has ever seen!"

"Well said, laddy. I'm finally starting to understand why Sonic put so much faith in you. I think I speak for everyone here when I say that we're not going anywhere," Garfield chuckled. "Let's kick some Commie ass!"

The portly man-cat lifted up his gargantuan nunchuks and began wildly swinging them over his head. Pooh loaded his sniper rifle, Anne Frank turned both of her arms into machine guns, RZA donned his iron fists, Alex Jones threw back one of his supplements, Kanye West transformed himself into a dragon, Jordan Peterson uncovered his mutated arm, Taylor Swift entered into her beast mode, and Jimmy Neutron unsheathed his cane sword.

With an unspoken agreement, this army of righteous patriots kicked down the door and marched to their final confrontation without fear. They all shouted in unison, "It's time to ROCK THE FUCK OUT!"

"They're getting closer, father. What should we do?" Crazy Frog asked in a frightened voice. He shuddered as he heard the sounds of motorcycle engines revving and electric guitars being tuned.

"Fear not, my children," Larry the Hellbane Guy said. He sat comfortably atop his throne, not seeming concerned in the least with the impending battle. "Let them come. I shall not let any harm befall my beloved family. You're all safe with me. No matter what happens, I won't ever let you go…"

"Who the fuck is he talkin' to? Has that honky-possessed mandigo lost his goddamn mind?" Enver Hoxha murmured under his breath. He narrowed his gaze, watching as Larry held a conversation with the ether.

"He's been doing that for the past five hours. I don't really understand the details, but it seems like his entire squad turned on him and he had to kill 'em all. He wrote a check that his heart couldn't cash, and now it's eating him alive," Rosa Luxemberg explained.

Enver would be lying if he said that he didn't pity their captor on some level. "Damn. That's pretty fuckin' rough. I just hope that he can hold onto his sanity long enough to keep us safe from those goddamn barbarians knocking at our doorstep."

The Underlords' chatter was interrupted when Larry suddenly raised his hand. He spoke in a low voice, sounding just as calm and dignified as always despite his crumbling psyche, "Have you forgotten why I made you my vassals in the first place, dear socialists? It is finally time for you to prove the worth of your existence. Crush the American scum before they breach these walls!"

The Hellbane Guy was hard at work attempting to repair Sonic's ruined guitar. Any interruption would surely disrupt the spell he was using to mend it, making the destruction of the Space Force key to his plans. Trump would need to hurry before Larry could finally attain godhood, making victory against him a hopeless effort.

The bikers slammed their feet on the brakes of their choppers as a storm of light particles rained down upon them. Hindering their progression was none other than Leon Trotsky, who was entombed in his newest model of cybernetic battle armor.

"We don't have time to fight these fuckboys one by one. The longer we wait, the less of an advantage we have against the Backstreet Boys. We need to strike before they can recover from the damage Sonic-kun inflicted upon them!" Trump spoke with a snarl, narrowing his gaze towards the churlish Marxist hovering overhead.

"Fear not, Donarudo Toranpu-dono! I shall defeat this honorless gaijin here, de gozaru. Go on ahead without me!" Waluigi insisted. This fundoshi-clad kabukimono unsheathed his sword of indomitable Nippon craftsmanship, prepared to fight for the honor of his star-spangled kinspeople.

Trump bowed his head in gratitude to the honorable shinobi. As soon as the Space Force entered the next chamber, the door behind them sealed shut. They were then ambushed by a flurry of 1,488 hatchets hurled in their direction.

"Don't even think about laying a finger on this one, brother-man," RZA growled from behind his gritted teeth, barely holding himself together. Standing before them was none other than Violent J, the mastermind behind the Gathering of the Juggalos and the fall of Wu-Tang Prime.

The rest of the Wu-Tang Clan, along with the Cybernetic Ghost of Christmas Past, stood by the vengeful ronin's side as engaged his greatest enemy. "Don't worry about me! You've got your own destiny to fulfill, right? GO!"

The rest of the Space Force followed suit, splitting apart to tackle the Underlords that blocked their path. By the time they reached Castro's throne room, only Donald Trump, Alex Jones, Jimmy Neutron, Garfield, Winnie the Pooh, Kanye West, Jordan Peterson, and Ice Cube remained.

Trump stared down Sonic's mortal enemy without fear. Like some ancient god his power erupted outwards, filling the chamber with the seraphic light of his soul and loins. He had accepted his mortality, embraced it. In accepting he had conquered, ready to drink death like water. He had gone beyond life and death. Here, in this moment, Donald Trump was Helios.

"My, my, my, my, my. I commend you eight on making it this far. You're quite the tenacious bunch, aren't you?" Larry observed. He dropped the broken pieces of the Communist-Slayer, left with no choice but to fend them off using only his current strength. However, despite being totally outnumbered, his confidence wasn't shaken in the slightest.

A dark energy spread throughout the chamber as Larry stepped down from his throne. A choir of satanic howls rang in the bikers' ears as he walked towards them with a dignified gait, signalling the arrival of the dreaded one. A great and terrible theophany he was, with a dozen angelic wings sprouting forth from his basketball jersey and a crown of thorns upon his bald head. There was no doubt in Trump's mind that the monster standing before them was none other than belial in the flesh.

Larry the Hellbane Guy contorted his lips into a pleased simper at his enemies' expressions. He giggled in the voice of a cherubim, "No more games. This time, I'm not holding anything back. I believe it's finally time… to Git-R-Done."

LARRY THE HELLBANE GUY — Ability Name: 「Midgets and Gay Bars」