Acid Trip

Disorientation.

That was the first thing that came to Percival's mind-or minds- when his skin was peeled away.

This experience wasn't like having a hive mind, where each body has some degree of control or equilibrium to follow.

But this was entirely different. His brain wasn't designed for this hell.

It was like trying to peer through a glass bottle and observe a full scene when it was cracked to hell and back.

Figuring out what he was looking at was hard enough, but getting a natural positioning of himself was even more difficult.

Sometimes while trying to get his bearings, he bumped into himself, and then that version of himself bumped into two more versions of himself, and then all of him ended up taking an unnecessary tumble.

If that weren't aggravating enough, these demonic animations were still dancing all over the fucking place!

"It's time... for fireworks!"

"Fireworks!"

"Fireworks!"