Penguins of Anarchy IV: Endgame

Four

White. All he could see was white. There was no sound. He couldn't feel anything.

Three dots appeared in the distance, so small that he had to squint to see them. They came closer. His heart pounded in anticipation. He couldn't understand...anything. Where was he? Why was he here? What was the last thing he remembered? What were those dots that were coming toward him?

He was startled as he heard a voice. It was almost a whisper, and it echoed infinitely as it said one word: "Dead." Who had said it? Was it the dots coming toward him? No, the voice had come from his mind. It was the only sound he could hear—that ominous, quiet voice saying, "Dead," echoing over and over. So this was his mind, he decided. He was inside his own mind, and that was why he couldn't hear anything else.

Or was he dead? Was that what the voice was trying to tell him? Had he finally met his end? He couldn't even remember what had happened last. In fact, he couldn't remember anything—nothing but the white, and the little dots, and the voice saying, "Dead."

The dots got close enough for him to see that they were penguins. As they edged closer, he could make out their features. One was dark blue with black hair. The second was red with light brown hair. The third was light blue with blonde hair. He knew these penguins, he realized. He recognized them; he had known them sometime before the white.

The dark blue one was a loyal soldier—a martyr who had been killed during a great defeat. The red one was a foul traitor—a twisted, cunning turncoat who cared only for his own agenda. And the light blue one—he was someone special; he was young, he was strong, and he was brave. Unfortunately, that bravery had depended on the ability of someone else, and when that ability failed, the light blue penguin's bravery had failed as well.

He knew these three penguins. He knew them very well. But at the same time, he couldn't quite remember them clearly. He knew they were dead, which meant he was dead too if he was seeing them. Perhaps they would spend the rest of eternity together, standing here in the white, listening to the voices echoing through their minds.

But he didn't want to be trapped here forever. He would go crazy if he was trapped in this empty white space with no one but three silent penguins for company. He tried to scream. Nothing happened. Did he even have a mouth? He tried screaming louder. Still no sound. He couldn't feel anything. He was nothing but a disembodied being. He was terrified. He didn't want it to end like this. He didn't want to stay here forever. He had to get out. He tried screaming even harder. He thought he could barely hear his own scream, but it was so quiet and so far away that he wasn't sure it was real. He wasn't sure if any of this was real.

The voice echoed in his head, "No escape." No! He refused to believe there was no escape! There had to be a way out of this torment! "NO ESCAPE!!!" the voice screeched. That didn't change his mind. There had to be a way out. But what was the answer? How would he be able to leave this dreadful white?

"No one can kill me," the voice echoed. Kill who? Who was this voice in his head? Was it a friend trying to help, or an evil spirit here to haunt him until he knew no more?

Then he understood. It wasn't a friend or an evil ghost. It was him. This was his voice. No one could kill him. Which meant he couldn't truly be dead. Which meant either this was a dream, or it was an eternal death that he had to escape. He tried screaming again. Again, nothing came out.

Then he realized that whether he was dead or not, this was all in his mind, and the only way he could scream was by screaming in his mind, not trying to scream physically. He focused; he focused hard; he focused so hard that he forgot anything else. And with that, in his mind, he let out a scream so loud, so bloodcurdling, and so hoarse, it made him so scared of it that it caused him to scream even more.