John had finally made it into the Land of Heat and Clockwork, traveling fast through the shortcuts that Dave had instructed him on. He wiped his forehead and unequipped his rocket pack. The added heat of the device on his back had caused a pool of sweat to form on his lab coat, which felt refreshingly cool when exposed. The relief didn't last long though; the hot atmosphere was relentless here.
He took a moment to catch his breath and examine the surrounding area. Aside from one metal wall, the platform he stood on was exposed, giving him a view of the seas of rolling lava. The one wall that stood was decorated with gears. Rotating, turning gears that served no greater purpose than to distract the eyes of a bored player as he waited for his friend to show up.
"The ability to appear at any time and he still makes me wait," he huffed under his breath.
The sound of a scratching record echoed from somewhere to the left. John spun toward the noise, grinning from ear to ear in anticipation of meeting Dave face to face.
THONK
Something slammed into his head like a sack of bricks. Behind the pain of the blow he felt his knees buckle and he hit the floor of the platform with a thud, wincing as his cheekbone slammed against the metal. He touched the side of his pulsing head and felt the cool, wet mixture of blood and sweat on his fingertips.
He could feel the footsteps clanking behind him and hear the grunt of his attacker preparing to strike again. He rolled quickly to the left just as the weapon was brought down, tearing a piece of his bright green jacket and pinning it to the ground with its spike. He pulled his arm away, ripping off a large chunk of his right sleeve and looked up in terror.
As if the fear of his attacker's near miss wasn't enough to cloud his mind, John was doubly confused by the what he saw above him. A young boy in a black shirt was looking very pissed as he struggled to pull the spiked hammer from the platform. This was no imp or monster this was... himself?
John looked up at his opponent in awe. His heart raced with adrenaline, but he was too stunned to act. He just watched, jaw agape as his other self finally dislodged the deadly looking weapon. When he adjusted his grip and readied it for another swing, John blinked and snapped out of his trance. Oh shit. He meant business.
John rolled again and scrambled to his feet, feeling the wind of a hammer swing just behind him. He rushed forward, nearly tripping as his boots slid on the smooth metal surface. Behind the ringing in his ears he could hear the frustrated grunts of his future self following each barely missed strike.
He reached the gear adored wall and skidded to a halt. He turned, panicked. The full body of Future John slammed him against the metal wall, pinning him down with the hammer's handle pressed to his neck. Future John pushed down and John fought to push back, wincing in pain as the pressure from the metal rod crushed into his adam's apple.
There comes a time in everyone's life when they contemplate their own existence. Where did I come from? What came before me? What happens to the world when I am not longer around to experience it? Is there life after death? Is there life before birth?
When you are staring into the struggling face of your younger self as you strangle them to death happens to be one of those times when, despite your attempts to shut them out, these questions enter your mind.
Future John closed his eyes and tried to focus on self preservation, but the whole situation was so confusing. He was murdering himself. How was this supposed to save him? His hands shook with uncertainty and he loosened his hold on the boy in green, who inhaled deeply and coughed as his windpipe refilled. Still, Future John held fast and kept himself pinned, unable to escape.
His mind raced. What exactly was going to happen once he died? Would things really go back to normal? Was this really murder? Was it suicide? Would he feel anything? Would he still really exist if he killed his younger self? He considered his neck and reasoned that he wasn't in pain from the wounds he had caused already. He opened his eyes and looked at himself, scared and helpless against the ticking silver wall. No, this wasn't him. This was someone altogether different. A different person with a different life.
A person who looked like him. Who sounded like him and smelled like him. But it wasn't him. He furrowed his brow and tightened his grip. There was only room in the universe for one John Egbert, and he was not going to let this boy take his place. He was not going to give up a year of life, all his experiences, all the good times he had spent with friends that this doppelganger didn't even know. He pressed forward once again, fighting against the hands that tried to push him back.
"I'm sorry. It's either you or me."