The shift in focus from what he was seeing to what he was viewing was alarming, but not unexpected. He couldn't make much sense of the darkness, at first, but he found himself wishing it had stayed dark as other things came into focus. Seras running, captured, and killed. It was hard to watch passively, but Joe realized that, despite taking a step towards her in the ring, his viewpoint of the murder never changed.

So he watched with growing sorrow. As her memory receded, his own took its place. He tried to wrench the stones towards something positive, but the slick metal control room slid into existence anyway. The massive opening along one wall into another world of floating stone landmasses under a purple-red, planet-laden sky.

And himself. He can see how he looked then, being consumed from within by an entire host of souls, as if he was starved to death. They might have healed his voice, but they were parasites. They were screaming through him, about survival and corruption and sacrifice. Joe can remember how he was able to break in, control his own mouth, and beg for his father to do what he had to. Before Joey hurt anyone more.

You had no choice he thought quietly to himself as Joe watched his father run him through with a sword. The image of Slade Wilson cried "Sweet God, I have no choice!"

Just like Joey remembered. His hand touched his sternum thoughtlessly, but there was no scar there. Joe blinked wet eyes a few times.