[ WP ] No one expected the apocalypse to come in the form of millions of Sonic OCs

The skies go red, light separating into its constituent parts. There is a sound like screaming, like a million buzzsaws whirring simultaneously - yet more organic, more fleshy, like vocal cords vibrating fast enough to cut through bone. They descend from the sky, wheels within wheels, both human and animal and machine, and humanity looks up and thinks, *So this is what angels look like. * 
 
 There is one for each of us. They share our names, our innermost desires, our repeated moments of joy. They are red and blue and yellow and green and every color of the rainbow, and a hundred more besides. They pulse sweetly pink, loom black in shadow, vibrate an electric blue. They are the color of souls. Their bodies are perfectly smooth, flawless arrangements of platonic solids, rounded and bladed and flawlessly aerodynamic. Every expression on their faces is a gleaming confident smile. They are us, as seen through a reflection in God's eyes. 
 
 They are all so beautiful. 
 
 We grasp their outstretched hands, climb upon their backs, let ourselves be cradled gently in their arms. They begin to run, faster than the eye can follow, and we match every footfall they make. We become blurs, our bodies perfect dynamos of motion. Blood pumps in our ears like an imperative. Faster. Faster. Faster. 
 
 We go fast, and take our leave of this world.
