“Mike Ray Thompson, before the sentence is carried out, do you have any final words?”

Encased within a glass chamber, the aforementioned Mike Ray Thompson found himself strapped to an electric chair as a dozen or so spectators were present for his execution– most of whom were family members of his victims. He’d killed eleven men; they were all college students at a local university.

Only Mike and the deceased knew why he did it. When asked, he’d simply answer with a shrug or say, “‘Cause I felt like it.” Regardless of his motives, he was found guilty and sentenced to death, though he couldn’t give two shits about the verdict; it's not like this world had anything left for him.

The families of his victims watched anxiously; awaiting those final words of his. Finally, after all of these years, the man who inflicted all of them with such agonizing trauma was about to be put down for good like the animal he was.

“Fuck you,” Mike told them all. With that, his fate had been sealed.

The executioner scoffed at the murderer, and one of the audience members yelled, “Go to hell!” as the executioner placed his hand on a lever just outside the glass chamber. This compelled the others to begin shouting curses at the killer, who then laughed in their faces as if he had just told the funniest joke on Earth. “I’ll tell your sons you said hi!” he rebutted, and as those words left his lips, the lever was pulled.

Meanwhile, across the country, Michael Ray Thompson, a man who shared the same name as the cold-blooded killer, was seen driving with pop music blasting and his windows down. It was just before noon, just before three o’clock in the afternoon had he been on the East Coast; it was the exact time of Mike Ray Thompson's execution.

Michael lived about as much of a normal life as one could live. He’d just graduated from college just a year prior and was a salaryman, working at a tech startup company as a software engineer. He had a stable friend group, an okay relationship with his parents, and a love for video games that was a borderline addiction. The only thing missing in his life at this point was a girlfriend in his passenger seat, one he told himself that he oh-so-desperately needed; but as he always told himself, “Good things come to those who wait!”

Unfortunately, that hypothetical relationship with his future girlfriend would never come to exist. As fate would have it, the moment the lever that killed Mike Ray Thompson three thousand miles away was pulled, Michael Ray Thompson was struck by a stolen SUV, killing him before he could hardly register what happened.

---

As if he’d awoken from a bad dream, Michael’s eyes shot open and he drew in one harsh breath. His vision was blurred momentarily, and his body felt as if he’d just emerged from ice water. The cruel air around him was so cold, that he could see the vapor from his harsh breaths escaping between his dry lips.

“Where am I?” he whispered. He felt as if he were ten feet tall; but in reality, he was nailed to a crucifix and was suspended a few feet off of the ground.

Where the hell…

A voice, one foreign to Michael, could be heard as if it came from the interior of his skull. It was as loud as an intrusive thought, perhaps even louder, and the voice was definitely not his own. It sounded like a hardened, middle-aged man’s, a far cry from his young, meek voice.

“Hello?!” Michael called out, his eyes exploring his surroundings frantically. However, there was no one else inside of the nearly pitch-black prison cell he found himself in. The only sounds he could hear were the clanging of the metal chains that dangled from the ceiling as the chilling breeze snuck through the cell's crevasses, forcing the chains to sway. The air reeked of rotten flesh, though Michael was unsure if it was the cell itself that smelled that way or his body, which was completely transformed.

Michael's arms and legs were blackened as if he’d been seared by a grill. His veins were visible through his charred limbs, looking more like tubes filled with lava that flowed through his body. He couldn’t see his new body in its entirety, yet he could sense that he was living in an entirely new body. What he couldn't see was that his hair turned white and a pair of black horns had sprouted from the top of his skull. His unfocused eyes gleamed with a crimson hue and his teeth were sharp like a beast’s.

“What happened to my arm?”

What happened to my arm?

Both Michael and the voice in his head raised the exact same question simultaneously.

The voice in Michael’s head transformed from groggy to aggressive.

Your arm?

“I don’t understand... Where are you!?” Michael’s eyes still searched his surroundings, but he was all alone in the cell, despite hearing the presence of another man.

I’m the one hanging from the cross.

Michael’s brows crinkled. “But… I’m the one hanging from the cross…”

Not funny, kid. Just wait until I can move my body...

‘Wait until what?' Michael thought. 'If he thinks he’s the one on the cross and he can’t move HIS body then that means…’

“Wait a second… How many fingers are you holding up?” Michael asked as he held up two fingers using his blackened and clawed left hand.

Two... but I didn't move a muscle.

“Oh, shit…” Michael was the wittier of the two, almost instantly coming up with a theory of his own. It was with this theory that he realized how dire the situation was. This voice he was hearing was another man trapped inside of his brain! However, he was glad that his previous theory of him having gone completely insane was looking less likely.

“Don’t panic, but I think you and I might be inside of the same body.” Michael braced himself as if any sort of preparation would lessen the blow of the booming voice that resided inside his brain.

What!? That doesn’t even make any sense! Are you fucking with me!?

“N-no! I swear! Look, look! I’ll hold up four fingers.” As he said he would, Michael showed four fingers to the man inside his head.

Why the hell do YOU get to control MY body?

“I- I don’t know, dude! The last thing I remembered was that I got in a car accident. The next thing I know, I’m in here.”

That's right...

“What, do you remember something?”

The last thing I remember...is that I was executed. If you died in that car accident, then you and I are–

“In the afterlife!”

In HELL, you dimwit! We’re in HELL!

For a moment, Michael was appalled. He sort of sneered at first before shaking his head in disbelief. “No… No, no, no. You see, I was baptized as a child and I used to go to church every once in a while. I’m definitely NOT in Hell.” Michael chuckled at the absurdity of it all. “How could someone like me go to hell? I’m a saint! I even gave a dollar to that homeless dude last week. That alone should’ve scored me front-row seats to a Michael Jackson concert in heaven! This is just one big nightmare and I’ll wake up right about…now!”

Michael did not wake up.

I hate to break it to you kid, but you and I are not in a dream or the good afterlife. Trust me on that one. I’m as far away from a devout Christian as one can be.

Even with all of the evidence laid out in front of him, Michael still refused to face reality. “Well, I heard God is a forgiving guy. I’m sure whatever it was that you did, it couldn’t have been that bad.”

Do you wanna know why I was executed?

“Why?”

I killed eleven men.

“Oh my God that’s terrible.”

Eh. They deserved it.

Michael still refused to believe his dire circumstances, shaking his head as he spoke. “Well, this has to be some sort of mistake! There’s no way I belong here with you! I haven’t killed anyone. I haven’t even been in a fight before!”

Sorry, kid. Looks like you believed in the wrong religion. Should’ve banked on Catholicism or somethin’.

“That’s not how this works… Right?”

You askin' me? How am I s'posed to know?

“I can’t believe I'm in Hell…. Why, God!? Why!?” Tears started falling down Michael’s face. That voice inside of his head was silent as he wept, only to chime in once Michael started crying hysterically, sounding like a child who had their candy taken from them.

If you’re just gonna whine like a little bitch, then give me control of the body.

Michael sniffled and dabbed away his tears by patting his cheek on his shoulder. “Can I even do that?”

Do I look like the Hell Encyclopedia to you, kid?

“Right, why am I asking you? You’re just a voice in my head.”

This ‘voice in your head’ ain't just a voice, it's a man and that man's name is Mike.

Michael immediately stopped his whimpering and his eyebrows scrunched once more. “Mike? As in Michael? We have the same name! So then it’s your fault! They must’ve got our names mixed up!

That’s stupid. You think God, or whoever, doesn’t know the difference between two different Michaels? Besides, I’m sure we have different last names anyway.

“Well, what’s your last name?”

Thompson.

Immediately, Michael could feel a pit forming in his stomach. They shared not only the same first name but the same last name as well. “Do you have a middle name…”

Ray…

“WE HAVE THE EXACT SAME NAME! ITS ALL YOUR FAULT! GOD THINKS WE’RE THE SAME GUY!” Michael raising his voice only triggered Mike to then raise his and the two found themselves engaging in a screaming match.

MY FAULT? YOU’RE THE DOLT WHO DIED IN A CAR ACCIDENT. A CAR ACCIDENT! LOOK WHERE YOU’RE DRIVING NEXT TIME!

“I WAS LOOKING! I WAS T-BONED! LOOK WHERE YOU'RE STABBING NEXT TIME AND MAYBE YOU WON'T GET EXECUTED!”

WRONG! I shot most of 'em.

Michael didn't even know what to say in reaction to this, squinting his eyes and shaking his head. "You say that like it makes it better."

Made it easier.

"Why did fate pair me up with a senile old man..." Michael whispered to himself as if Mike couldn't hear him.

I'm not even close to senile or old. I'm not gonna ask you again, kid. Give me control of the body.

“I DON’T KNOW HOW!” Michael lost his temper and leaned forward, tugging on those nails that kept him in place on the crucifix. He wasn’t sure how he did it, but suddenly, he relinquished control of his body. He watched as the mysterious man who was once just a voice in his head moved his fingers and looked around the room.

“Finally.” Mike said, now having full control over the body. “Hey, kid. You in there?”

No longer being in control, Michael felt a similar sensation to wearing a virtual reality headset. He was looking through the eyes of the body he shared with Mike, yet it felt as if he were merely looking through a screen. Meanwhile, as if he had a separate physical form from the one Mike was controlling, Michael felt as if he were in a constant state of floating in a cold void.

I think so… This is freaky. It feels like I’m floating swimming pool but at the same time, I can still feel what our body feels.

“Hmph. Well now that your useless ass isn’t the one in the driver’s seat, I’m going to get us out of here.” Mike gritted his teeth and began prying himself off of the crucifix. Those flaming veins of his began to bulge as the nails that were lodged in his hands were being forcibly removed.

Ow!

Despite having no control over their body, Michael could still feel every single bit of pain.

“Shut. Up. You sound like a little girl.” Mike was trying his hardest to ignore Michael’s bitching, but the bitching was louder than Mike’s own thoughts.

OW! STOP THAT! OW!

Michael regained control of the body and leaned backward into the crucifix before letting out a sigh of relief. However, the calmness quickly subsided once Michael started yelling at his bodymate. “Are you crazy!?” Michael asked.

Are you… an idiot? I’m trying to get us OFF of this damn thing!

“Yeah, well, it hurts. Badly. I don’t do pain.”

There was a brief silence between the two of them. ‘Is this dolt SERIOUS!?’ Mike thought to himself. ‘I share the same name and body with the biggest wimp that’s ever lived.’ Mike held his tongue, knowing that he had to be the mature one out of the two if they wanted to get out of this mess.

This lasted for three seconds.

AND I DON’T DO BEING TRAPPED ON A GODDAMN CROSS! NOW GIVE ME THE BODY!

“Hell no! That hurt WAY too much!” Michael looked over at his right hand. He could see blood oozing from where the nail was impaling him; however, the blood was orange in color and thick like slime. Michael moved his hand slightly, “AH!” he yelled before accidentally giving Mike control of the body once more.

Having full control, Mike began barking orders. “Shut the fuck up, kid! If you want out, then this is the only way!” Mike pulled his right hand forward once again, causing orange ooze to splatter outward. Before Mike could even begin making any meaningful progress, Michael retook control of the body.

“Stop hurting us then!”

You're the only one who can't take a little bit of pain, you little punk. And stop taking the body back! If you would’ve let me do what I was trying to do, we’d be out of this mess already!

“I don’t care. If we’re in Hell, then getting out of this is pointless anyway!”

And hanging here for all eternity is even more pointless! Give me the body!

“No, fuck you!”

Stop being a little punk!

“No!”

GIVE ME THE FUCKING BODY YOU LITTLE SHIT!

“N. O. NO!” As Michael screamed, he leaned his body forward once more, and blood spewed from his hand. Mike suddenly gained control of their body once more. This time, however, he decided to take a more sympathetic approach before making any sudden movements.

“Alright, Michael. Listen to me. You said you believed in the Christian form of God, right?”

Yes…

“Well, last time I checked, that religion doesn’t describe Hell as living in a prison cell. So that means everything you know about the afterlife as a concept is wrong. Therefore, this could all be some sort of test to see if we have the fortitude to get off of this cross and get out of that door. I mean, look at it. It’s locked from the INSIDE. We’re meant to open it.”

So what?

“So… I need your help. I’m going to start pulling. When you gain control of the body, I need you to pull too, alright? We’re gonna get out of this if we work together. I just need you to be a man!”

But it hurts!

Mike exhaled before changing the manner in which he spoke closer to that of a father. “I know it does. But if we want out, we have to endure the pain. Remember what I said? This could all be a test. What if the pearly white gates are right beyond that door?”

Yeah? For the mass murderer who killed eleven people?

“You said God is forgiving right? Besides, it's not like I killed 'em 'cause it's fun. They deserved worse.”

Fine. I’ll do it.

“Alright. If we switch, keep pulling. Ready? One. Two. Three!” Mike started to pull his right arm free from the crucifix. The sound of flesh tearing was muted by the sounds of him grunting in agony. Every once in a while, Michael would regain control and those grunts would turn into girlish screams as he made progress in their effort.

Eventually, they were able to push through the pain, and their right arm was freed, however, the nail was still stuck inside. “OWOWOWOWOW!” Michael whined, looking down at his trembling black hand that was oozing orange blood.

It’s not over yet. Pull the nail out from our left hand now.

“Isn’t that gonna hurt WORSE!?” Michael whimpered.

JUST DO IT!

Reluctantly, Michael began pulling on the head of the nail with his right hand. Again, the sounds of flesh being torn would have been heard if it wasn’t for Michael screaming like a wimp. Just like before, as they pushed through the excruciating pain, the one in control of the body would shift every second. Before long, the nail was successfully pried from their palm and their body slammed on the ground.

“We did it…” Michael whispered, breathing heavily on his hands and knees.

We? I did most of the work while you screamed like a little bitch.

“Seriously, man? Not even a ‘good job’ or a pat on the back?”

Even if I could pat you on the back, I wouldn’t. Now get off your ass and open up that door.

“Fiiiine. Christ, you sound like my old man.”

Maybe we’re related.

Michael rose to his feet and approached the cell door. It was locked by a wooden bar but from the inside, just as Mike said it was. Michael lifted the bar before pushing the door outward. Immediately, he was hit by a blast of cold wind that nearly blew him back inside of his cell. When he stepped outside, he looked to his left and right, only to find that there were an infinite amount of cells, just like his, that spanned further than the eye could see.

Directly in front of him was a tower, one so high that he couldn’t even see the top of it. Though he could only make out its silhouette, It looked unlike any sort of structure he’d ever seen before. It was abstract, seemingly defying gravity as some parts that protruded outward should have disrupted the center of balance, yet the building stood tall and straight.

“I guess we head for the tower then.” Michael uttered.

Looks like that’s our only option, now move it.

“You know, you can try being a little nicer? Maybe try saying ‘move it, please’. You sound like a drill sergeant.”

No.

Michael sighed. “Alright, then.”

Michael piloted their body forward, through the blizzard, and toward the gargantuan tower that was practically calling their names in front of them. Unbeknownst to the two of them, this was but the start of their long journey, one where the two of them would have to learn to get along if they wanted to survive.