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The last thing John remembers is Arthur taking a dagger to his throat and pushing it in. Then everything went black. Now he finds himself in a different type of darkness. He appears to be in a softly illuminated prison cell surrounded by an impenetrable blackness, as if it is frozen in a realm outside of time and space.
Something isn’t right. He finds himself able to do more than just see. He feels the weight of a body dragging him down. He looks down at this body, draped in a thick yellow cloak with two large, pallid hands being the only thing uncovered. Then he hears a sharp metallic clink, like the sound of a coin hitting the ground.
“Johnny Boy! Why if it isn’t the man himself!”
As John looks up he is met with the morbid smile of the bloodied and barefoot man standing before him.
“Kayne!” He growls with contempt. “Where the fuck am I?!”
“Woah, woah! Easy there pal, there’s no need for shouting. I’m only here to help.”
“Where is Arthur?!”
“Our little English rose is doing just fine, don’t you worry about a thing! You’re the one he seems so concerned about. He’s been making such a fuss trying to get you back. Some loyal friend you’ve got there,” he says as if exasperated.
“Tell me what you’ve done with him.” John snarls, growing impatient.
“Well I saved his life, for one! So you’re welcome for that! Then he just went on and on and on about how much he wanted you back, I mean jeez it’s like he’s in love with you or something! So anyway, I made a deal with him…”
John shoots the man a disdainful glare, waiting for him to expand on whatever awful deal he had come up with.
“I told little Arty that he could save you from the clutches of that terrible King in Yellow and have you all to himself again. But… decisions must have consequences, of course. So I told him he could have his precious John back, but on the condition that you don’t remember a single thing since meeting him. Great opportunity for character development, don’t you think?”
John thinks back to what he felt when he first entered Arthur’s body. Anger, violence, disgust… A sense of guilt washes over him at the thought of Arthur having to live with that again.
“So why am I here?”
“Oh yes I almost forgot! What poor Arty didn’t seem to realize is that you, the John he knows and loves, would still exist. Unfortunately, you’ve been replaced in your own universe. Quite tragic, really. And that’s why you’re trapped here!”
“So what, I’m just stuck here forever?!”
“I mean you could be if I weren’t such a kind, benevolent man!” He places a hand over his heart for emphasis. “I have a soft spot for you guys, John, I really do. That’s why I’m here to help! Tell me your greatest desire, John, and I will make it happen!” He speaks these last three words with great emphasis on each.
“Put me back with Arthur.”
“How’d I know that’s what you’d say! You two are just iiiiinseparable, huh? Even when you finally get your own body, you just want to go straight back to his. It really is touching.”
“What use is a body if I’m just going to be trapped here?”
“I suppose I can’t argue with that logic, Johnny. Here’s the deal. You can go back to your precious Arthur. Save him from that bloodthirsty beast he’s stuck with now. On one condition, of course!” He pauses dramatically.
“Well?”
“Well… Remember that little dagger that Arthur, brave man he is, used to sacrifice himself. That little blade he shoved into the tender flesh of his throat, ripping through his own arteries and spil-”
“Yes I remember! What about it?!”
“Ah, touchy subject I guess. Well if Arthur used that dagger to bring us to this situation in the first place, then it only seems fitting that I take it back to reverse the situation. Now where is this dagger, you might ask? That is for you to find out! I hid it away somewhere safe, somewhere that should be very familiar to you.”
“Go on…”
“Well, it’s quite funny, actually. I tucked it away somewhere inside of Arthur’s body…”
“What do you mean, inside…?”
“Well that’s the thing. I just can't quite seem to remember where exactly I put it! Was it nestled into the stomach? The lungs? Damn this memory of mine! You’ll just have to find it yourself, won’t you?” He finishes with a maniacal laugh and a sadistic smile.
“... And just how exactly do you expect me to do that?”
“I suppose, seeing as Arthur is a little busy right now, I’ll just have to act in his place. I can be quite a convincing performer, you know.”
“So you want me to tear through your organs until I find the dagger? seems like a pretty welcome challenge to me.”
“Not through my organs, silly.”
With an electric crackling noise, Kayne’s usual appearance morphs into a fonder visage. In the voice of Arthur Lester, he speaks.
“Through mine.”
A shudder runs through John’s body at the uncanny resemblance.
“Have at me, John! Claw me open and tear through my guts.” The voice is just as exact as the face.
John falters for a second. “If you think that I’ll hesitate to rip you to shreds just because you look like him then I assure you you’re going to be disappointed.”
“Disappoint me then.” He challenges.
John lunges forward and slams Arthur’s body into the wall. He seizes his shirt collar and pulls with enough force to send the top few buttons tumbling to the stone floor. He takes a fistful of fabric into his hand and rips it the rest of the way down, exposing Arthur’s chest and stomach.
“So excited to get into my clothes, John?” He chuckles, the sound ringing so familiarly in John’s ears.
“Shut up!” He snaps.
John presses his hand to Arthur’s stomach, pausing for a moment to feel the warmth of the vulnerable flesh beneath. Then he digs in with five elongated, claw-like nails, parting the soft skin until he feels a warm wetness soaking his fingertips. The smaller man groans in an indistinguishable mix of pain and pleasure. John forces his fingers in further, penetrating the hot viscera just above the navel. Blood begins to pour out now, running down John’s wrist and forming a small puddle below.
A gasp of pain escapes the other man. “John, stop! You’re going to kill me!” He chokes out in Arthur’s desperate voice. His face contorts in feigned agony.
“Don’t even fucking try it, Kayne.” John spits out with contempt. He feels around until his hand grasps onto a chunk of solid tissue. Then he pulls until he hears a wet snap that sends another rush of blood flying, staining his golden robes with a tarry black and red smear of viscera.
His victim bursts out in a maniacal laugh. Then back to Arthur’s lower voice. “I know what you want, John.” He proclaims, glaring into John’s intense yellow eyes.
“And what exactly would that be?”
“You want me to enjoy this.” The words come out smooth and sultry in that familiar accent. “Your hand in my guts, plowing your way through my insides and covering us both in my bodily fluids. You want me to feel every part of it and you want me to lavish it, don’t you, John?”
John’s breath hitches. Unable to make eye contact, he keeps his eyes trained on the deep gash in Arthur’s stomach. That raw gouge exposing the man’s pulsating organs… As he looks down, John notices that there are still strings of flesh and blood dangling between his nails and Arthur’s ravaged body. A warm tingling grows in the pit of his stomach.
John plunges his hand back into the warm cavern of Arthur’s body.
Arthur groans. “Yes, John…”
John grasps onto another chunk of tissue. His fingers slip over the peritoneal fluid, gliding his hand higher up Arthur’s abdomen. He uses his other hand to take hold of the edge of the wound and yanks upward, stretching the hole open a little farther to give himself more space to work with.
“Oh fuck, John.” Arthur pants out. He’s grasping at John’s cloak now, bracing himself with a tight grip.
John tugs at another organ, digging his nails into the serosa to keep hold of it. He presses even further, forcing his sharp nails through the membrane and muscle until he feels the small cavity within, another surge of thick fluid pouring down his wrist. No dagger yet.
He shifts even farther up now, feeling something more muscular and solid. John’s thick fingers move over the subtle ridges of veins. The whole thing is thrumming quickly against his hand, growing and shrinking ever so slightly. John knows what it is now. Arthur’s heart, struggling to keep his body from collapsing from blood loss.
John steadies his hand, holding it in place for some time while he takes in the sensation of holding Arthur’s beating heart. As he gazes into the gaping cavern of mutilated flesh, Arthur’s voice whispers sensuously into his ear. “Keep touching me just like that, John.”
The growing warmth in John’s stomach has long since turned to a sweet sickness by now. He feels like he could puke from being so overwhelmed by both disgust and desire.
He tightens his grip on Arthur’s heart and then tugs until he feels the sinews snapping, releasing the organ from its rightful place within the thoracic cavity. Arthur gasps as it’s ripped from his body, but does nothing to imply that missing a heart will hinder his abilities in any way. Instead, he greets John with a weak grin of pleasure.
John stares back hard as he tries to force his nails into the thick muscle, but the organ is far too sturdy. Without some kind of sharp tool he could never get it open. Unless…
He draws the heart up to his face. The coppery smell of blood intensifies, and so does the puddle growing around John’s feet. He opens his mouth, hesitating for a moment. Arthur’s grin widens into something uncanny, far from the compassionate smile of the real Arthur Lester. Then John bites down. Fighting the overwhelming urge to gag, he rips his teeth into the aorta and blood floods into his mouth. He swallows it voraciously, letting it overflow and drip down his chin. He continues tearing into it, piercing through the ventricles and snapping off pieces of hard tissue.
In the intensity of the moment, he almost forgets what he’s supposed to be doing here. Then Arthur’s right hand releases his cloak and grabs John’s. He guides John’s hand back into the wound and over his own lungs. John takes the hint and shreds through the flesh, feeling the lobe deflate as the oxygen rushes out, until he feels hard metal against his skin. He extracts the dagger with far from surgical precision.
“Well, my friend, it looks like you’ve won.”
John stares wildly down at the mess of viscera he’s made. Both of their clothes are completely stained with blood and chunks of flesh. There is a gaping wound leading up Arthur’s abdomen into his chest, exposing the layers of muscle and fat beneath the skin. John can see the misplaced guts shifting around in the ravaged cavity.
A feeling of nausea and self-loathing wash over him. Even knowing it wasn’t really Arthur, seeing what he was capable of doing to Arthur’s body… Seeing what he enjoyed doing…
The mutilated man puts his hand under John’s chin and pulls his face in closer. He presses their lips together and forces his tongue into John’s mouth, allowing the blood to seep back into his own. He drinks it in as drops of blood and saliva drip down from their faces in a grotesque display of intimacy.
“Let’s do this again sometime, John.”
He hears an electric crackle and everything goes black once again.