#will need to put this in parts. sorry my writign is all over the place. writing is not my strength

[badgloop]

>The Empty Trade - Part 1 4-2-2024 8 AM

Dropping the heavy snack bag, as the usual part of the routine when he comes back to his hive from Rahzel's place. Can't visit without a bag of snacks while theyre chatting. Chocolate snacks, salty snacks, fruity, even a couple drinks in there. He's always gotta be prepared. After the thud onto the couch and, a lazy kick off of the slip on black sandals, he flops down into his pile with a long sigh. Peace once again. Though, he didn't really want to leave so soon, he had just been getting more tired, lately. Combine that with the occasional strange nose bleeds, or fluids coming up for lack of better detail, they all seem to be a similar sensation. It is never comforting, and started to wear at the stomach and sinuses like an old, unproperly set broken bone and a bruise; an unhealed knot of the muscle. He never wanted to show how heavy it is weighing on him. The nightmares he can take, sure. The hallucinations where they make show their faces, or in this case voices, their eyes, their shadows - all following before the 'bleeds'. It was just… a weird thing. He's just tired of Gram looking at him that way, as if he knows something.

Gam looks up at the ceiling and contemplates taking a nap right here. That is, until a loud thud. They all told the clown to keep his door locked and closed, a habit he still could never perfect. A stranger could come right in, and have before. Today seems to be the day once again, only this time, more than one. There had to be about 9 trolls all painted faces as part of the church, yet dressed as any alternian pirate would look. Pirate juggalos? What the fuck- No time to think. Gam gets up to his feet with one of his clubs in hand, and about to go for the other, which he curses under his breath to himself about. Why did he have to leave it in the other room? Flash step, cmon you can do it again, its been a while but it can be done again. Before the step could plant itself where he has in mind, his throat, and his legs are taken from him, and slammed onto the hard and dark gray floor, enough to crack the stone. He's held down and he can barely get a moment of air, letalone focusing at all. This seems to be for the best, because what is happening to him, he'd rather not remember. The intruders dig into him with weapons, tools, ripping open his abdomen, taking what they want - an organ or two, blood from him, anything of value aswell around his hive. They are intending to leave with more than the usual valuables. Maybe, if he could think, he'd wonder why they think his organs are of any value? Still, one thing is for sure, they intend to kill him off quickly. The shock is too great that he feels nothing but the cold ocean air blowing in from the open door. The most vital of his organs are hit last, stopping his heart, stopping his lungs, stopping it all. Finally, his head is hit so they won't have to hear him struggle further if there is anything left in him. The last thing he could manage to see at all, was darkness engulfing his vision like someone had poured ink over his eyes.

The clown is left there, door wide open for any beast to come in and eat him up, hive is trashed, the wind knocking things over at each wave. The intruders make their way quickly to their ship, storing the stolen organs and valuables away, and they are off. The captain has Gam's blood on her hands, not bothering to wipe them, like its own small trophy, smearing the wheel.

An attack or robbery isn't new for the poor clown. Consistently, there has been traps hidden under the sand by these same pirates. Some old, some new, some have even hit him, but he's recovered fine. He had some help in the past to remove as many could be found. There has been other valuables like gold stolen from him, aswell, but they never hit him as hard as tonight. Maybe he should have seen it coming, maybe he should have checked his door before he left early that morning. Regardless, the damage has been done, and it's likely, he won't be getting back up anytime soon. At least, it won't be him.

- The original one. Same face, same voice, same silliness. However, not the same history - not the same pain caused. This one before him that others also called 'Gam', was long gone in the furthest ring, cursed for his afterlife to be a wandering terror. The timeline was long doomed the first round of death. However, despite the ongoing loop similar to ghosts to never grow and consistently fall back on how they died, or the wrong things they've done, there was one little spark in his mind. One day, he had come across a bubble, where this new version of his own face, this new alternate, was having a sweet dream with the other ghosts. It angered him. Fueled with selfish rage - Why does he get to have another chance? Why not me? He has my face. He has a new blank slate, and not him. Thats not fair. Unknown to the first Gam, this 'new' one had the same feeling, knowing what the first has done to harm in his life. They both had their own anger. Long story short, he had claimed this poor alternate's body, and soul. He vowed, "Once he dies for good, I will live again, I will have his body, I will get the life I deserve. You don't know the pain of this void. I want out. I will be out." He could not control himself, and this fate has been sealed. Cursing this new version of himself, to suffer hallucinations, deteriorating health which stumped any doctor, and forgetfulness - Which lead to his death. No regard for who was in this new bard's life, and how this would hurt them.

Time has passed. The first, has been watching the skies consistently, for any sign of death, any sign of change. The only thing in his mind was that he would be free, and that fate was his to take. One day he had been crowding bubbles, and creating new, when he saw a light, as if a new star was exploding right behind him. It got bigger and bigger, and he felt the pull. Immediately this alerted him, and he had been pushed through, even if it felt like an eternity itself going through. It was not a star, but a portal. He felt his consciousness blank out in this meantime, moving to an empty, bright space, as if you had shined a flashlight behind your eyelids. He stood there, empty eyes but his form he used to be in, more clear than before. Ahead of him, he could have been fooled that it was a reflection, but no, here he was, the 'new' self. Anger, selfishness creeped up again, he could only feel one thing: he has to kill him, himself. This new face will not win. There is no other way but to take what he claimed as his.

Then the new face stood, shaking and staring at him, opening his mouth to speak.