He Doesn't Talk Much - Jacksepticeye Egos Fanfic

Chapter 8 - Our Revenge

(WARNING: It's the moment you've all been waiting for. This chapter contains graphic gore and blood.)

Henrik woke in a dizzy haze. His stomach ached and burned all at once- when his fingers brushed there, they became stained in blood. He was lying on the ground in the operating room, barely conscious. 

How much blood did I lose? Henrik wondered painfully. Where's Anti- where's Jameson?

The doctor gingerly tilted his head to the left, seeing that Jameson was lying on the ground on the other side of the operating table, apparently unconscious. Henrik sighed, leaning his head back. His stomach hurt terribly, but he suspected that he'd passed out because of Anti's interference, rather than blood loss. 

Shallower than I thought, Henrik observed, peering gingerly at the gash on his stomach. 

"Good morning," a horrible voice said. Henrik groaned and covered his ears, but the voice seemed to be coming from somewhere between them. 

"Stay away from me," Henrik hissed, grunting as he struggled to get up. The room was cloaked in a green haze, something he'd seen before. Anti was still manipulating him. "I said, stay away from me."

Still, Anti would not relinquish his influence. So Henrik sighed, pulling himself up by the operating table, and was astonished to see that Jack had vanished. 

"Don't worry," Anti giggled. "He's home now. Safe and sound."

"Get out of my head," Henrik insisted petulantly, his voice pained. He struggled to keep pressure on the wound as he straightened himself up against the table and picked up some gauze off the operating cart. He wrapped it tightly around his abdomen to maintain pressure, and began to breathe slightly easier. 

"Well, now what are you going to do?" Anti asked. 

"Zhut up," Henrik snapped, hunching over the operating table. His eyes fell on Jameson, lying pathetically on the other side. 

That poor fool, Henrik thought bitterly. He derailed this whole operation. 

"That is a sentiment we share, doctor," Anti crooned in agreement. "He lied to both of us. And for what? Two failed plains, and a knife in the stomach."

"Ya," Henrik agreed grimly. "Zhat's right. He... he..."

"You want revenge, don't you?" Anti's hushed voice asked. 

Henrik nodded sleepily, feeling dull, heavy anger pulling down on his stomach. Or was it the gauze? He couldn't tell, but it made him frustrated. "Jameson... zhat bastard."

"I can keep him asleep for as long as you need..." Anti hissed. "I'm on your side, you see? Why don't we do what should have been done a long time ago?"

Henrik staggered around to the opposite side of the table and hoisted the body up with unreasonable strength. He dropped him roughly on the table, and began gathering the instruments he would need. 

"Total laryngectomy," he muttered. "Zhat ought to shut you up."

"What's your plan, doctor?" Anti crooned. Schneeplestein could feel him looking over his shoulder, watching curiously. But when he turned his head, nobody was there. 

Henrik laughed anxiously. His teeth were chattering, though he wasn't cold. "You'll see. You'll see. He'll see- haha! You'll see." Henrik looked Jameson over with a trained eye. He cut the performer's bow tie in half and threw the ribbons on the ground before pulling his collar apart. "Alright, Jameson, you little rat,"  he hissed. "You're going to pay for zhis."