I came to while floating in a black void. I assume I'm floating since I can't feel any sort of floor under my feet. Death really is as terrible as they say, if this is it. On the bright side, my chest is in one piece, and I have my shoes, so either someone did me a solid back in the land of the living, or it's true that you appear as you see yourself in the afterlife. I don't know how long I drifted about, mulling over the logistics of becoming a ghost, but the sorrow definitely started to seep in once I started thinking about how I went out in the end. I made one mistake, and yeah, reasonably one would call it once they have a hole in their chest. I've been told that there were other "Me's" before and they've come back from worse. I can't shake the feeling that If I really wanted to stick around and fight it out, I could have pulled myself together!

I could also be wrong and it's the trauma talking. Thinking. Crying?

I hear crying in the distance once I come to an impasse with myself. It might be wailing; despair is being expressed one way or another and I can feel it. Actually, once I tuned in, that was all I could feel, everywhere around me but also focused on points that felt incredibly distant from me. Maybe it's because I virtually have nothing left to do other than sink into my own melancholy, but I feel drawn to this feeling and will myself closer to it. The more that I respond to the call in this space the more I feel the presence pulling on me in turn until I see a white marble in the space. Finally, some semblance of color! Or at least something other than seemingly ending darkness. Whatever I'm feeling drawn to, it's in here. I reach out to the marble and on contact I'm sucked out of the void and into a warded room.

I look around and realize that I'm hunched in the corner, shaking like a scared animal. I stand up and see that me, or a version of myself is still hunched in the corner wearing nothing but some tacky compression onesie for training. I take a step back and watch my legs phase out of the other me. "Yo, what the shit is this?!" At that, I could have sworn I saw the feral looking me glance up at me before locking on to the other side of the room.

The object of "our" concern is Hank, minus a few grays. I'm relieved to see him until I see the look on his face. I know that I've never seen him look at anyone this way. But I can feel it. This has happened to me before, and it was about to happen again.

The other me watches in horror as Travers slips on his gloves. They're not the usual tailored pugilist gloves he sports that match is suit. These are a pair of gauntlets like out of a fairy tale, except way more hardcore. They look like they're designed to mince their target to dust rather than smack them around here and there. Was this some sort of punishment? Did I- no he, do something to get Hank this upset?

Wordlessly, Hank lunged straight for my double as it scrambled away using his hands and feet like a scared animal. The pursuit continued for several minutes as they both darted about the training room, neither of them slowed down. Other me's movements were crazy impressive. Every single muscle in his body contributed to his movements, and what's more, he hardly cycled any magis throughout his body to speed up or support himself. The way he dodged roughly 8 out of 10 of Hank's attacks, it didn't look like he was thinking about it but moving purely on instinct. If I could, would have loved to learn to move like that in a pinch.

This was a losing battle though. I don't know what caused the other me to be so passive, but it doesn't seem like he would dream of ever swinging back at Hank. This training is going nowhere. Just as I had that thought, Hank roared. "If all you can do is run like a scared dog, then you will die like one when the day comes. Attack! Like you did before!" He ended that call out with an overhand strike that laid heavily into the ground at his target's feet. Other Me barely jumped out of the way, keeping his eyes on his assailant. That's when Hank conjured a green portal behind Other Me's back and drove a fist into it throwing all of his weight into it and an absurd amount of magis. The payload found purchase and I watched with agitation as my other self coughed up blood and writhed with the energy coursing through their body before falling to the ground and wheezing. Hank stood above his prey, panting looking disgusted with them. If I didn't know better, me being a ghost and all, I could have sworn that the Other Me made eye contact with me. I didn't want to come to terms with it, but I think I saw the moment that he let go and gave up on living.

My heart rang in my ears, I knew what happened next. What's more, I felt it. Hank dropped to his knees and double hammer-fisted the other me with the totality of his might. More blood shot out of his mouth, and he bounced off of the floor, light leaving his eyes. "WORTHLESS! When I actually need you to cause harm to something, for the good of this world! Now you wish to lay down and die?! Is that it?!"

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He cocked his fist back and began to pound over and over and I just sat there and watched until he completely mulched the unwilling combatant. Between breaths Hank continued to rage, grunting and battering mercilessly. The feeling of this energy reminded me that this was definitely the teacher and mentor I was familiar with, but the man I know could never have the capacity for this kind of cruelty. Could he?

After a moment that lasted for far too long, his breathing calmed down. He stopped to look at his hands, registering the gore as it dripped from his fingertips. He stood up and stared down at the pile of flesh as it began to emblazon. Sparks turned to blue embers as the mulched mass began to bring itself back together. I'm thankful I don't have a real stomach because I would have blown chunks at the sight. Hank walked out of the room. I can't see anything past the threshold. As I realize how limited my field of view is in this- whatever you call it, I notice that the damage to the room had gone and the other me was back where I found him, shaking in the corner.

Hank appeared again, slipping on his gloves with the same grim determination. The one-sided battle began again and started to play out just as it had before. I watched in disbelief at the phenomenon. Beat for beat, the thrashing took place in front of me. Again, ending with Hank in some sort of barbaric blood rage and pounding the other me until he was unrecognizable. Hank screams a bit, calms down, walks out again, and it all resets. Aw fuck, am I in a snuff loop?

When the other me pops up back in his starting corner, I race over to him. I've got nothing else to go off of, but I could feel something like a resonance between us earlier when he glanced in my direction. "Hey buddy, I know the guys coming here is a bit of a hulking brick-shithouse, but you gotta do something or all you're going to do is suffer! He's not gonna stop until-"

"No!" He blurted out with a voice foreign to me, while looking me dead in the eye. So, I can be perceived here!

"Why not?! He clearly wants you to fight back! If you give him something for his trouble hopefully, he'll ease up and then we can figure out a way out of here."

He gave me a puzzled look before darkening again. "No... care. No pain anymore. Nobody else."

I draw the line at cave talk. I reach for the sad sack's shoulder and... I'm hunched in the corner now and can't see him anymore. I stand up and look around, my perception of the area's gotten better, but I'm starving and aching all over. Seeing as I'm a stiff that makes no sense. I look down and realize why my feet are cold all of a sudden. I've somehow become the sadsack, compromised posture and all.

Hank bursts into the hall in what feels like slow motion. Fucking hell, now I've done it. I'm gonna be in the hot seat for this round. I do what I can to prepare myself mentally to throw down and I'm blasted with an insane amount of imagery, it's overwhelming. Clashing with hank for what seemed like an eternity of skirmishes that escalated each passing moment. Strangely enough I can see flashes of him... struggling against me? His veins are popping out and everything. I'm standing over him, and some snot nosed kid is walling him off from me, tears streaming down her face. Alice?

Turbulence hurtled toward me in a flash, and when I had my senses about me again, I was mid-flip over Hank who was dead set on pummeling me. In my head I fought to sort out the details of the images I just saw, and somehow while I fought that mental battle, I was handily dodging each strike Travers sent my way. Even with my attention divided there was no gap in my responses or reaction time while I remained under attack. Once he was within striking range, I started to gather what was going on. Steadily, I allowed magis to flow out from my pores, just enough to create a thin aura around my body. The moment interference met that aura I would instinctively twitch out of the way however I could. If I ever get to use this again in the flesh I gotta come up with a cool name for this one.

If it's this easy to dodge, a counter should be no problem at all! I try to channel some magis into hand and make a fist, but I feel resistance from my own body. As long as I weaved out of the way things felt effortless, but the moment I had the intention to fire back, it was like my body rejected the idea of fighting back.

What gives?!

That instant of adhesion left me open, a hook to my jaw sent twisted my face up and sent me flying into a wall, barely piercing through the ward in the room. My eyes watered and a searing pain jolted through my body. I try to speak out or at least talk some trash but there's a major problem, my mouth wont close while it's being held together by a single side of my mandible. I try to pull myself together and not freak out about all of the blood coming out of my face. I don't think I've ever been punched that hard before.

My eyes dart around trying to pinpoint Hank before he brutalizes me some more, but he's just standing there studying me. Maybe he recognized that I tried something a moment ago? It's hard to parse through the details when I can't feel half of my damn face, but there has to be a way off of this fucked up ride. I think about how I got in this situation and focus on the only other soul that has bothered to show some potential for communication.

Yo! Sadsack! Help me beat him! Or let me help you!

Time comes to a stop and the more depressing version of myself manifests between me and Hank. There aren't words for how relieved I am. I don't care to know what happens when you double-die.

He points a finger toward me and issues a cold command.

Leave me.