At that, the mini reality that I was stuck getting boxed in, faded back to the familiar black.

No fuckin' shot, Mopey. There's gotta be a way of busting you out of this loop. I can't just dip out now that I'm aware you're actively letting yourself get murdered in here.

The other me, who I am now sure is a hit at parties, raised his hand with his palm facing me and sent out a pulse of blue energy that sent me flying. I could feel the intent, he wants to send me back where I started. Too bad he's not the only guy here with a chip on his shoulder. I resist by willing myself to stay. My heart's set on putting an end to that painful loop.

He fixed his gaze on me, evidently frustrated. Know Nothing.

I clapped my chest and swung my arms out wide. I'm not exactly busy here! Teach me how you got in such a sorry state and maybe we can work something out.

He darkened and then zipped over to me placing his index finger on my forehead. SEE.

Images flashed seemingly at random through my mind until they started to fall into place. It all started with the blurred face of a crying boy in a destroyed lab, followed by the murder room. Travers poking and prodding for what seemed to go on for ages. A visit or two from a tiny Alice, who sneaks in snacks? I didn't know she had it in her to be nice to anyone other than Wyatt. Fighting day in and day out, Travers growing more extreme by the day. We retaliate, desperate to stave him off, learn to evade on instinct, strike back with free form movement. Claws?! Oh, we're coming back to that. Nothing but training and testing from Hank for what seems to be ages. Hank starts to put on the scary gloves during the daily rounds and... despite what I had recently seen, my stomach twisted into knots with the vivid image of my hand with a nail forged of force magis, pierce through Hank's gut as he's doubled over. Then we just... leave him on the floor?! Running... feeling, hopeful, happy, victorious, free. Hearing ugly sobs, backtracking... a visibly older Alice pleading with Hank to get up. Screaming at me now. All I do is hurt people. I'm not her friend anymore. Monster. Hank comes to, clutches Alice and runs off. I'm locked in, I should stay. I will stay. I never should have li-

I've seen enough... The feed fades once I make the affirmation.

He stares at me with what I assume to be contempt, waiting for my response.

Did they ever even give you a name?

He shook his head. Why name? Mistake. Monster.

I took a step towards him. You were trapped like a rat and weren't given a chance at all to understand anything. It's okay to feel bad about hurting somebody, but that wasn't your fault. You didn't wanna die. That's just how life works! The fact that you felt sorry for the guy who tortured you your whole life means you've got a heart in there, my guy!

I give him a friendly wrap on the chest with the back of my fist. I went through some stuff too before I ended up here but compared to you, I'm the picture of privilege. My name's Tyson, and from now on, you can count on me to keep you from this kind of garbage. If anything, you won't suffer alone anymore, if at all.

I offer him my hand, and he hesitates before eventually meeting me in the middle. Once we make contact and share a smile, we snap back into the warded room with Hardcore Hank on the approach.

I wince at the idea of being involved in this skirmish again and I can feel my new friend's dread like it was my own, but the experience is different this time. I don't feel like a bystander plugged into a stranger's body. I can feel it, we're in it together this time. With my new buddy's ability to sense and slip by the incoming attacks with somewhat formal training in martial arts from a future version of this guy, it's in the bag.

Travers streaks in and goes for an overhead smash, even without my new field of super-perception he telegraphed all of the fun out of that one. I spin around him and use the momentum to serve up a magis-infused kidney shot. He flinches from it and then charges forward straight ahead of me, diving into an improvised portal that I immediately recognized was opening up to my backside. I feign ignorance just long enough for him to commit to another heavy strike, before it gets stuffed by a back-kick I had been charging up since I saw the portal open. The green gateways he creates are familiar enough, but they're much larger and crudely shaped compared to the Travers of today. With that in mind and can't fully gloat over this beatdown, I'm used to going to toe with a professional, and definitely someone with a cooler head. If this was real time and not some memory world, I would be talking the most shit right now I swear.

The ghost of Travers' past spits blood on the floor, he's furious. He takes a stance I've never seen him take before and his trademark dark green magis begins to swell in an aura around his body. There's a glint in his eye as he takes his left hand and points to me, while cocking back his right fist at the waist. With a twitch, his fist flashed from and back to its starting position and my new senses barely warned me in time. I brought my arm up as I sensed I wouldn't have enough time to weave away from the hit, and I was jolted a hop and a skip away from my starting position. My arm cracked, not being bolstered with magis in time. I ran with the momentum and immediately felt danger all around. I barrel rolled on a hunch after try to jump away while keeping my guard up. Just as I had felt before, I caught a glimpse of several quickly conjured portals, each firing fists with frightening speed at insane angles. Could he have always done this?!

I get grazed a few times and land in a sprinter's stance, my body is slightly different from usual in this iteration, but it's time to see how much speed I crank out like this. I flood every muscle I'm aware of with magis and dash with all of the effort I can muster. Topping myself out in a closed space like this would only be effective in spurts and I knew that. I begin to bounce off the walls and zig zag, trying to keep Travers in my field of view without posing too much threat and making the least sense possible with my movements. Just when I think I can manage some breathing room, over two dozen fist gates burst into existence in front of me, lining a battery between myself and Travers, he cocks his second fist back.

This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

I need an out! Other me, how do I do claws?!

I suddenly feel the other me override some of my magis control in my right hand and I take a mental note of the feeling. Magis is deliberately and delicately channeled from my center and into my fingertips, molded and then shaped into a rough outline of my hand. I pick up on where I need to take things from there and flood the stencil I've envisioned with magis, packing it until it is dense and feels close to being uncontrollable.

Thanks! Here we go!

I stretch out my left arm to wind up, focusing on the field of portals between myself and Travers. No, I can go even further than that. My aura flares as I dump even more power into my next attack. I swing with all I've got just as I feel Travers is about to let the first fist fly. What started as a big sharp energy glove around my hand expanded to fill a quadrant of the room as I brought it down on my opponent. The energy left my hand and traveled forth as 5 streaks of destructive force that scratched the artillery of portals in front of me, surging forth beyond that and crashing into Hank, exploding with the pent-up force on impact.

Nice! We're calling that one savage... no, wild... we'll workshop it later.

The warded area that was hit by the blast dissipated, leaving a bare landscape of caved in tile. Travers knelt in the center of it all, his gear in tatters. We must have dismantled any personal wards he set up for himself too. I do love a payload with a bonus!

I took a breath to consider what was ailing my new buddy here, and after a little thought it's obvious that beating this nightmare version of Travers wasn't going to solve our problem. In the visions he shared, he technically did win and just felt bad about it. No, we've done enough here. The pity party is over at least for now, and our would-be murderer is trying to catch his breath. It's time to beat feet.

As soon as our feet touched the ground we bolted and made a mad dash for where we could remember the exit being. Within a few moments and after some collateral damage from all of the boosting through the house, the front door to the chateau was in sight. I could feel Mopey's spirits lift as the door grew closer with each stride, and I felt a twinge of pride crashing straight through that thick wooden door. Once we were past the foyer, there was nothing beyond the front gate other than a shining white wall. Remembering the feeling I had earlier, I forge a new set of magi-claws on each hand and project a slash to break through at full speed. The barrier shattered like glass, and we split back into our original forms. Other me looked with astonishment as his prison began to fade away. I was even treated to a smile that crept on his face once he saw the little girl that fueled his guilt waving to him with a big grin on her snot nosed mug.

Once the marble had completely vanished, I was left with the guy floating in that black void again. It didn't feel nearly as bad as it did when all I had to think about was how easily I got taken out.

So, what do I call you?

Name. Never.

You look like a Lornas. That okay with you?

Lornas... He hunched over and started scratching his head a bunch. Really mulling it over there.

Lornas. Good. Thank you. Tyson.

No sweat. Took my mind off of... all of this anyway. Nice to officially meet you Lornas!

I offer him a fist. For bumping. You're supposed to do it back.

With an air of wonder, he carefully makes a fist, and prepares daps me up properly. He even threw in the biggest smile I've seen from him so far.

The moment we make contact, my vision blurs and I hear heavy breathing. After blinking a few times, I see the Hank that I know on the backfoot in his home office. This is where we were when I talked him before...

"Hank, are you real?"

His face loses most of his color after hearing that. "Tyson... you haven't lost your memory?"

"I'd say that's obvious. So are we in the real world having this conversation? Or am I still in ghost world?"

He takes a step toward me and my magis flares up reflexively. Every nerve in my body is begging me to high tail it out of this building and go somewhere safe.

We are safe.

He's not that guy.

He's never been that guy.

Despite my efforts to keep cool, I flinched when he got close. But to my surprise, the old man wrapped his arms around me and squeezed me tight enough to make me feel less paranoid about wanting to get out of there. "Hank?"

"Forgive me boy." He shook as the words creaked out of him. "I used you. I made you face dangers you couldn't comprehend and continued to demand more out of you. You put your faith in me and I abused you like a mindless tool until you broke. Then I did it again and again, no matter the result, no matter how cruel I knew it to be."

"Hank..."

"I was the one who urged Trisha and Virgil to try to weaponize your composition. It's my fault that I lost my dear friends. That young Wyatt lost his whole family. Yet I let you bear that cross, I stood idly by as you received the ire of that boy and others, when I was the one to blame for all of it! I knew all of this, and I still pushed aside that reality, masquerading under the guise of serving a greater good. To provide a better future!"

I didn't know what to say to any of that. This grown man who had always been a pillar to lean on for me, was sobbing and spilling his guts to me. The one guy I always swore I could count on, and I always wanted to be like once I got my life together. He's the reason everything's always been so fucked up for me!

"I had the vanity! The gall! To harbor hatred for you while you suffered for the sake of my pride! I-"

"Travers!" I bellowed as my magis flared up again with poor control on my part. I push him off of me and keep my eyes locked into his. "I just came back from the fucking dead. I don't have time for your pissy little pity party! Where is Alina? Wyatt? How long have I been gone?!"

His jaw dropped, but nothing followed.

So, I grab him by the collar and pull him in.

"Snap out of it! I don't give a shit how sorry you are about anything. None of it does or will matter if my friends are dead. You've got one more chance to make yourself useful before I cash in on an old grudge, I didn't know I had!" I let go of him and pat his lapels flat. "Try to look presentable and pull yourself together. No one's gonna take you serious if you don't at least act like you're in control. You can at least do that, right?"

With that, he took a deep breath and walked over to the door. The threshold had been warped and cracked; he probably had a temper tantrum earlier. He channeled magis into the doorway and opened a portal to the front door of Wyatt's apartment. He slapped himself once and fixed his tie, turning around to look like the calm and collected mentor I was used to. "We will discuss this later, but you're right. We should be on our way."

"Yeah, this is my idea after all. Let's get rolling."