A boy runs around a godforsaken place. Some would definitely call it hell, even if that's how the outside world was anyways. A living nightmare. You see, once you get used to something, another thing always comes up to throw you off.
Like say, your best friend dropping you into a flesh demon's stomach. Or whatever this place was. See that boy who was running around this lonely pit of flesh? Yep, that's me. I've long abandoned the name I once had. Though you could call me it, if you would want that. Mono. One, singular, alone. I guess that's how it was always meant to end up.
However, Six? (You're probably wondering about her-) She didn't betray me. I know for a fact she didn't. Six most certainly had a greater meaning in dropping me off here. Perhaps, if nothing else, to stop a time paradox from occurring.
Yes I know, I'm the Thin Man, The Broadcaster. The one who supposedly put this world in this state. (Well I know now that THATS not true.) However, as soon as I saw that same chair that he- I- sat in I knew it was true.
How I didn't tear the fabric of space and time apart by existing in this purgatory I don't know. You'd think that having two of the same person would do that. Yet nothing looks torn. So whatever I guess.
Before this I never knew eyes could talk. Maybe that's why people always feared me. My eyes saying something I didn't want them to. However, these eyes spoke of many things. Each eye had a different story of how it ended up in this mass of flesh. Most, apparently, were viewers in their past lives. Guess why that's why there's so many piles of clothes around the city.
Back to what I was originally going to say: I'm not Mono anymore, but I'm certainly not The Broadcaster- yet... and Six is not to blame for any of this mess. This sheer confusion I have.
Heck, I hardly think it matters anymore. What matters is getting Six back.