(Nine Hours Later)
A single ant crawled upon the ground, making its way away from the current scene. As it made ground, its body swelled into a grotesque mesh of guts, muscle, and bone, becoming prominent, like a macabre sculpture taking shape.
The air was heavy with the stench of death and decay as the figure of Nathaniel slowly materialized, his features coalescing from the chaos like a dark specter. His eyes, sunken and haunted, surveyed the landscape.
"I nearly died…" he murmured as he fell to the earth, his form marked by injuries that appeared to resist healing, his chest rising and falling.
His eyes flickered, dark spots dancing across his vision as the world around him blurred and twisted. The overwhelming pain surged through him, a relentless tide that he could no longer fight against. At last, he succumbed to his injuries, his body collapsing to the ground as consciousness slipped away, leaving him in a void of darkness.
A dampness enveloped Nathaniel's body, a chilling sensation that seeped into his very bones—before him stretched an endless ocean, its dark waves rolling and crashing for miles, glistening ominously under the eerie light. As he stood up, confusion washed over him; he was inexplicably standing atop the water's surface, defying all logic. The sky above was a vivid crimson, swirling with ominous clouds, and where the sun or moon should have been, a colossal eye loomed, its gaze fixed upon him. The unsettling weight of that watchful presence made him feel vulnerable as if it could pierce through his very soul and lay bare his deepest fears.
"Welcome home." The voice was recognizable yet sounded foreign.
Turning his head slowly, Nathaniel's gaze fell upon a shaved-headed man who was tightly strapped to a sturdy metal chair. A bizarre contraption, resembling a grotesque mask, was affixed over his mouth, its purpose unclear but undeniably sinister.
Nathaniel's eyes expand in realization, The man regarded him with a cautious gaze, his eyes narrowing as if weighing the gravity of the situation. Then, a sickly sweet smile stretched across his face, revealing an unsettling number of teeth that gleamed unnaturally in the dim light.
"Yo—you're me.." Nathaniel froze in disbelief and took a step back, struggling to comprehend what was unfolding.
A soft giggle emitted from the man.
"But of course, who else could possibly be this strikingly handsome besides myself?"
"Though, I must admit, this current body leaves much to be desired after the brutal beating you endured. It seems I had to swoop in and save you once again."
"Watching you take down that overgrown ball of flesh upon your resurrection brought me such delight, truly, but alas, the ever-persistent Batman swooped in at the last moment and ruined everything.""Oh, where are my manners?" he exclaimed, his voice dripping with a feigned politeness. "May I offer you something to drink? Unfortunately, all we have is water, as you can see." He made a small gesture with his head mentioning the water that stretched for miles.
Nathaniel stood still, his lips quivered, his eyes darted around, and asked in a low voice, "Why am I here?"
The man tilted his head to the side, a smirk playing at the corners of his lips, clearly amused by the situation.
"Oh, you are here because you royally fucked up, of course," he drawled, his tone dripping with condescension. "Using our new body like a toddler, wandering aimlessly like some sort of animal." His voice was laced with disgust, each word punctuated by a disdainful sneer that hinted at his utter disbelief at Nathaniel's foolishness.
"But I wouldn't expect anything else from a Fake," the man continued, his voice dripping with derision.
Nathaniel's eyes immediately widened in shock, the harshness of the accusation striking him like a physical blow. He opened his mouth to retort, to defend his very existence, but the man pressed on, not allowing a moment for Nathaniel to gather his thoughts.
"Oh, did you actually believe yourself to be the original? How quaint," he sneered, his amusement evident in the way his lips curled. "Sadly, that's not how it works. You see when the mind is under immense stress, anger, and desperation, it tends to fracture, leading to the emergence of separate personalities. But we were a special case, weren't we?"
The man's voice took on a mockingly contemplative tone as if savoring the absurdity of their situation. "We did die, after all, and I can hardly fathom the circumstances that led to our resurrection. It's all rather perplexing. But what is clear is that the body requires a mind to pilot it. Thus, a piece of me became you." Each word hung in the air, heavy with implications, as Nathaniel struggled to process the revelations cascading over him like a relentless tide.
"Now, I'll like my body back."