Gods, there was nothing soft about this world, least of all the ground. When John came to, his whole body ached. His jaw felt off center and there was blood matted to the side of his head. What'd happened? He closed his eyes- they weren't doing him much good at the moment anyways -and tried to remember.

He'd opened the puzzle box. Why? That was between him and his own soul, and right now his soul wasn't giving it up. All he could rember was the chains, lots of chains, and hooks ripping at his flesh. He'd been taken here, to the alternate universe known as Labyrinth- a dungeon world, controlled by the Cenobites. How he knew any of that, he wasn't sure.

He opened his eyes again. His vision was blurred, making it hard to focus on anything. Not that there was much to see. He was in a dark, grey stone hall. Rolling over onto his back, he saw that there was no ceiling. Above, dark blue and grey clouds swirled and swirled, occasionally crisscrossed by long strings of ethereal lightning.

"We are explorers in the further regions of experience...," he heard the words echo painfully out from within his cloudy memory.

He closed his eyes tightly against the pain but it did little good. Eventually it seemed to ease off on it's own.

He stood up, cupping the side of his head in his palm. Only then did he notice the body. Instinctively he knew it wasn't human, nor was it animal; a Cennobite. He cringed and stepped back. The grey skinned, sexless creature was a mutilated mishmash of open wounds and barbed wire. It's eyelids were held permanently open by hooks that disappeard into it's scalp. It had been his captor; his tormentor.

Currently, it's head was turned at an unnatural angle and nearly ripped off. He'd done this, he was sure of it. But how? Again, he wasn't sure how he knew such things, but he was certain that humans couldn't normally harm Cennobites. Somehow he had. But now what? Who else was trapped in Labyrinth? And most importantly, was there a way back to his own world?