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The sound of the gunshots pierces through the air.
"Oh. There he goes."
Kayne watches himself fall limply to the ground, straight into a puddle of his own blood.
"What a shame." He wraps his filthy hand around dead Kayne's throat and yanks him up. "I was hoping you'd put up more of a fight."
He aimlessly wiggles the body around, watching it flail about, its head lulling back and forth with the movement. "Stupid."
His hand opens, and the body falls with a heavy thud.
Kayne hisses through his teeth. "Ooh! That wouldn't have felt good. You should be glad you weren't alive for that."
He gives the body a hearty kick before turning with a sigh. This version of himself was a terribly unsatisfying kill. He just gave up and let himself die! Kayne knew, logically, that they couldn't all be fighters. Still, watching himself die that easily was... disappointing.
He supposes he could just call it a day. One down, on to the next. But something stops him in his tracks.
That itching feeling beneath his skin, the pressing urge for something more, for something interesting, paired with some sort of anger at this version of himself for being so easy.
No, he needs more.
Kayne turns back.
"The audacity of you! I would say that I'm not mad, I'm just disappointed, but, God, Nyarla!" He picks the corpse up and shakes it aggressively.
He then drops it back in its own viscera and kicks it some more. "You know, you, out of all the others, have been the worst! You didn't even try to survive! It's really a miracle you made it this far."
There's a thud as Kayne drops to his knees in front of the body.
"I am so ashamed that you're me! I mean, really, I didn't know it was possible for me to be this pathetic!" He yells as he slaps dead Kayne across his stupid face. "I deserve more than that!"
Kayne grunts and pulls himself up. He begins to pace frantically, walking in circles around the body like he's guarding it, all the while verbally degrading it.
"You were so easy! And now you've got me wondering— how were you before you were dead? And it's so! fucking! disgusting! It repulses me! It just makes me want to- eugh!" Kayne kisses his teeth. "Were you easy in other ways, too? I bet you were..."
As he's soliloquizing, he gets an idea. A way to soothe the itch, to bring catharsis after such an unsatisfying kill. Besides, that stupid corpse deserves it for leaving him hanging like this. He knows it's morally wrong and disgusting, but morally wrong and disgusting are his forte.
He pushes the jacket off the body. He thinks he should take it. It's a nice one. This version of himself is a little smaller, a bit mousy, but it should still fit. At least none of them have had poor fashion taste thus far. Embarking on this quest to kill himself has greatly expanded his wardrobe! Who would've thought?
It's without the jacket that Kayne notices certain differences. Apparently, this version of himself has a rack. He wasn't planning on fully stripping him before, but now he just might have to. He rips the shirt off the body. No need to have it in good condition. He won't need it anymore.
Kayne hefts the literal dead weight up, wrapping his arms around the corpse so he can unhook its bra. He thinks that if he had any need for them, he'd certainly wear a cooler one than this. This one is boring, some beige color that's somehow too dark and too light at the same time. It's unflattering. Kayne likes it better when the blood from his hand is smeared all over it.
When he pulls it off, he thinks the body's tits would benefit from the same. They're not that big, small enough to be concealed in the previous outfit with no great effort. Pretty, for sure. But Kayne's feeling like desecrating the body. Leaving his mark. So this does little to satisfy him. He killed himself in such a sterile way this time. Only a few bullets down the throat, with the exit wound covered by his hair. How sad!
His fingers dance in the pool of blood like a child playing in a puddle. This brings him joy for a moment, and then he's just absentmindedly smacking the blood around with little purpose or enjoyment. After a certain point, blood gets boring.
Corrupting something clean with it, however? Now that never gets old.
He gropes the corpse's tits with his filthy hands, smearing the blood all over them. Better, he thinks, much better. Now they were looking much more like his own would, if he had them. This version of himself wasn't anything like him in life. But in death, he could be whatever Kayne wanted them to be. How beautiful! How marvelous. For a short moment, he gets to be something new. Something marginally better. Or at least something Kayne can use.
Kayne pokes and prods at the now blood-stained pair of boobs before him for a while. What a novelty, himself with different anatomy. None of the others were like this, or if they were, he never noticed. Kayne likes to think he would've noticed, because he likes to think the other versions of him who potentially have them would have the sense to show them off. Wear something nice, something that hugs the body, maybe a nice low-cut black dress, not an ill-fitting suit that obscures his form completely. These ones are perfect for his body, just the right proportions, in his professional opinion. What a shame they went to waste!
Blood smears in lines as he drags his fingers down this one's stomach to his waistband. At least the pants fit nicely. Properly fitted, unlike the shirt, hugging the curve of his hips.
"Finally! I was starting to think you were incapable of dressing right..." He laughs like he's laughing with the body, like him and this corpse are old friends sharing a joke.
The pants have an unnecessary amount of buttons and clasps, making them a bitch to get undone, but Kayne managed. He wouldn't let a measly piece of fabric get in his way. If it took them more than five seconds to just fucking open up for him, then he wouldn't be above ripping them off.
Dead Kayne's panties are boring, too. Plain. Black. Unoriginal. They don't even match his bra. If he had the body this version of himself had, he'd be wearing matching lingerie sets every damn day. Upsetting! But oh well. At least these underwhelming undergarments aren't staying on.
He slips a finger under them. Pauses. Pulls them off. Maybe if they were alive, he'd be doing more. Perhaps he'd rub them through their panties, take a little longer pulling them off, be a little more ceremonious with it. But they're not alive. It doesn't matter. Dead people don't need foreplay.
It's harder to pull the panties off of someone who can't shift to assist the process. Not like they'd be helping if they were alive. Or maybe they were some kind of freak who would have wanted to have sex with another version of themself that came from another world to kill them. Kayne knew he would, but for how much of a coward this one was, he didn't imagine they would be up for it.
He touches the corpse's cunt, caressing it, smearing their own blood all over their pelvic area. His fingers probe experimentally at their hole, not quite pressing in but getting a feel for it.
"Oh, how beautiful, oh, how convenient!" Kayne laughs. "You're still warm!"
Encouraged by this discovery, he presses deeper, forcing his fingers in. His blood-slick fingers slip in easily. Is it just the blood, or were they wet when they died? Well, Kayne really has no way of knowing, but the prospect of it is incredibly thrilling. He gets two fingers deep in the body, fingering them just for the hell of it. It's not like they could feel it, of course, but seeing his bloody hand disappear into their pussy just turned him on even more. But it wouldn't stay warm forever.
He swiftly undid his pants and pressed the tip of his cock into the hole. Yes. Still warm. Still slick. Perfect.
“I was right. You are easy,” He laughs disjointedly, like a bark.
He grabs the corpse's hips and slides them up and down on his cock like it's nothing more than a sex toy. It's not like it would be useful for much else anymore. No. In fact, he's doing it a favor by giving it a purpose!
When Kayne gets bored, he switches positions. He lies down right in the increasingly large pool of blood and pulls the corpse on top of him. It topples over and falls forward onto his chest. Kayne laughs.
“Oh, look at you. So eager!” He lets out a sound that lands somewhere between chuckle and groan. “See, I knew you'd like it…”
When Kayne is done with it, he simply pulls out with a sickening slosh and zips his pants. He stands and dusts himself off, which is useless against the blood. The corpse lies crumpled over, marinating in the soup of fluids on the ground.
Kayne nudges the well-used body with his foot. Flips it over. Revels in how flimsy and submissive to his will it is. “Nice ass, by the way…”
He bends over to smack it so hard it makes a cracking sound and stings his palm. Other Kayne’s hip momentarily comes up from the impact.
“Well, that was fun. Onto the next!”
Kayne turns to leave, but immediately pivots.
“Oh!” Kayne giggles as he reaches down to pluck the jacket out from beneath the body. “Almost forgot!”
The obnoxious wet smacking of his feet on the ground sounds impossibly loud as he walks away.