The Sketch Survivors: The Enemy Among Us

The Thunderbird

"Legionnaires, you carry Gorshaw back to Fort Whal, and mend his wounds. I will pursue this Polygmian lunatic independently," Soal decided, believing it would be the best for his friends in Safer's Legion.

"But, Soal-" Irene started to reject, but only then realized he would be able to handle it. "Soal... take care." She solemnly led them back out of Fenway, into the battle zone with Lint Corp, the thunderstorm still pounding on their senses.

Heather had just before this bounded over Soal's head with a superhuman rage, and Soal had dodged her attack; but the momentum from the jump remained, and Heather had sped away to the south, leaving behind a cryptic message: "Death will come to th-th-those wh-who do not obey t-the D-dir-rector," she had growled. "Gr-Grampy will know. H-he will know you."

With the Legion rid, Soal pursued her valiantly, not ceasing his sprint until the killer was brought to justice. She seemed to be barely within sight- but curls of mist from the rain and Fenway's foreboding atmosphere obscured her figure. She seemed to be leaving Fenway and rushing towards easily the largest Gauntlete of all, its sides marked with immense letters that shined in the rain: T H U N D E R B I R D. Towering and imposing, it certainly could house many passengers, and could operate as a base for spies peering into the Revolution.

Heather, now a loose cannon from the death of her sister that she herself had dealt, was armed. To Soal, it was a combination that would result in mass carnage, especially around this so-called Grampy character. Soal assumed Grampy was a Lint Corp official who had some relation with the sisters.

Following a rough chase, the Thunderbird loomed, its shadow indistinct due to the constant shadow in which this land was bathed. Heather appeared to vanish into the shadows, and the massive Darklighted Gauntlete turned towards Soal, somehow recognizable in the tumult; beginning its trot of terror towards the Commander. The impact of its legs sent ripples through the ground, and Soal knew there were Freights in the vicinity, lurking, awaiting his ultimate demise to the invincible forces of Lint Corp.

But Soal knew the trick well. He broke his personal record by grabbing the vine-line structures growing all over the legs on the first approach, steadily climbed up the cylinder, no matter its concentration at tossing him away. At this time, the sun poked its head from behind a drastically darker cloud, illuminating the Great Shadow in precious light; a literal ray of hope from the heavens as Soal painstakingly crawled through a hatch in the Thunderbird, entering a mundane storage vault whose delicate contents danced on their shelves every time the Gauntlete moved.

Soal drew his weapons, and neared a steel gate into the ordinary corridors of a Gauntlete, one that would not budge regardless of subduing it.

Midway through his fourth slam, gunshots were audible, striking no one in particular while somehow sounding as though they were right next to Soal's ear. Simultaneously, ridges formed in the steel door, creating a braille-like appearance of dots and shapes that combined to induce a dreadful taste deep inside.

                                        D                                        I                                        E

Soal gulped deeply. Another symbol of an eerie smiling face arrived above it. "Trail if one challenges to dare," a muffled voice whispered through the steel, and Soal knew automatically it was Heather.

"I dare to trail you to the edges of the earth!" Soal yelled in frustration, knowing no one would hear him. Just then, the door decided to slide open with an ear-splitting squeaking sound. It led directly to the halls of the Thunderbird. Soal followed the source of the sound out of the room, convinced that he was being stalked.

Occasionally, as he inched his way instinctively towards the cockpit, guided by wall maps and disturbing signs on the walls, etched into place with Heather's loaded machine gun, he avoided contact with a corporate officer, sparing his chances of survival for the moment. But in the long run, he was still managing to prove himself that Heather was after him.

He had reached a quiet area of the Thunderbird, one that looked no different from any other corridor of stone in this Gauntlete, but contained many alcoves and hiding spots, almost designed in Soal's favor. As he so often did, Soal pressed his back against the smooth wall, hoping to evade the incoming footsteps of a stealthy silhouette.

A silhouette of a lanky figure, a girl with wild, bloodshot eyes, and slowly losing her mind to the Polygmian virus Lint Corp was spreading. Heather, machine gun in hand, aimed her weapon, darting it back and forth in search of something to kill.

"So you think you can do what you want, huh, barbarian?!" Heather's eyes burned white with a raging passion. Between each sentence, a barrage of bullets rained down on a random location in the general region, steam rising wherever it landed. Soal was so glad it never reached him. "You are the only barrier between dystopia and utopia. Put yourself out of misery."

Soal could tell she was approaching, from the way her silhouette grew against the wall, increasing in height and distorted, just as was her twisted mind. "I am the heir of your story's end," Heather bellowed, sending a storm of bullets just as heavy as the exterior rainstorm at Soal's feet. He edged closer yet to the wall, but he stood at the boundary. "Would you deliver me the power to inherit it?"

Soal still failed to respond, so Heather decided to go all out. "As the Antilonian tribes often chant..." she began her death song, backing Soal into a shadowy, pitch-black prison from which he would never return as she did so.

"Burn the soul of the king that died

Under the coffin of Lisnake hide.

End the gravity let bind.

A fate indiscriminate may yet find."

"You're completely out of your mind!" Soal screamed, but her chant endured repeatedly. Finally, the Lint Corp sister ceased.

"You're disgusting," Heather scoffed as another steel gate, this one entirely impenetrable, closed down to the Thunderbird's floor. "Go and die in a hole, miserable barbarian. Grampy would approve."

The final sight of Soal's before the gate forever shut, leaving out all signs of light, was the persistent white gleam of Heather's eyes; intense with grief, and plagued with hysteria.