A darkened room illuminated by a single blue light. It cast a cool atmosphere on the space beneath it. Powerful air conditioning units within the walls helped make the air a comfortable chill. This area was made to soothe one's weary body, mind, and soul.
Even so, while its inhabitants weren't tense, they were plagued by restless curiosity and intrigue. On one side of a large metal table, Doomguy and his associates. Opposite to them, the Demon known as Wretch and his companion dubbed Marine. Among the many questions everyone wanted to ask, one stuck out the most due to what the Wretch had stated in his message.
According to him, they sat in a dead universe. Beyond the walls of this facility, there were no stars in the sky. No planets floated on the eternal horizon. They were the only living things remaining. No animals. No plants. No people. It was just...them.
"Ugh..." Angel Dust groaned, only to quickly apologize. "Sorry! That wasn't directed at you! I was just...thinking about...everything..." He explained.
"It's quite alright," Wretch replied, understanding his reaction. "When it sets in that we are all that remains, it is...depressing. Sickening, even. You'll find only darkness and deathly cold wherever you search." He said.
"What...was it like?..." Nifty cautiously inquired, no longer sitting atop Doomguy's shoulders. "Fighting in an active war against Doom, to be clear. To try and save...anyone..." She added for clarity, feeling sad at the last part.
"Desperation. That was my emotion. As for the Marine's, I cannot say. Much like the Slayer, he's immensely private. It is not my place to pry." Wretch began, breathing out a sullen sigh. "Very quickly, we knew we were fighting a losing war. We hoped to save anyone. But when we reached Earth, it was in the process of being consumed. As we started our trek across the universe, there'd be almost nothing waiting for us. What remained were husks of worlds that held no value in Doom's eyes. You'd think a sea of viscera and blood would be the most disturbed sight. However, the absence of life, yet signs it was once present, truly unsettles you. Empty homes and vacant vehicles. Discarded possessions. Machines, still operable, continued their function as if nothing had changed. All we could do was exterminate any remaining wandering Demons and salvage what was useful." He told them.
"I can't imagine..." Azrael muttered with a saddened expression. In her reality, she had seen and experienced many tragedies. The greatest of which were always wars. But if she were to feel an entire universe rapidly die, it very well could break her.
"How long's it been?" Cherri asked. "To go sailing across space must've taken a long-ass time." She said.
"Centuries. Even with the technology on Earth and what we discovered, it wasn't enough to make traveling between locations anywhere close to instantaneous." Wretch answered.
"Hold on," Olivia interjected with widened eyes. "Centuries? But the Marine's a human, right? How has he stayed alive for so long? Did you create something like the Praetor suit for him?" She questioned.
"Unfortunately, I did not have the necessary components to replicate the Praetor. My friend's newfound immortality was obtained through other means. I cannot say more without his permission as it is private." Wretch responded.
"Friend. An interesting choice of word." Gabriel noticed. "You regard the Marine with far more familiarity than Doomguy." He mentioned.
"As I conveyed in my message, I respect the Slayer. But we are not close beyond that. My life was spared because I could offer him something. Upon proving myself to be truthful, he allowed me to live and pursue my path of penance. The Marine was the same at first. But after enough time and constantly having each other's back, we've become more than strangers who can benefit from one another. Brothers In Arms, as he might put it." Wretch explained.
Finally, upon hearing that, the Marine gave his first sign of life beyond basic movement. He nodded in agreement with the Wretch's assessment of their relationship. They were partners through and through.
"Pardon me," Vega spoke, joining the conversation. "I don't mean to sound rude with the following suggestion, but I believe it would be best if we discussed the most important aspect of this meeting." He stated.
"No, that's fair. Forgive me. I shouldn't have distracted us." Wretch apologized.
"You don't need to say sorry. You were only answering our questions." Octavia told him, making him smile.
"Thank you. That's very kind." Wretch replied. "But, as your unseen companion proposed, we should talk about myself." He said.
Everyone became silent. None of them moved to avoid making noise. They stared at the Wretch and planned to listen to every word.
"When the Maykrs discovered Doom and, by extension, my Creator, they quickly formed a countermeasure. At first, the conflict was a stalemate. But the Maykrs, with their intelligence, soon outpaced Doom and its legions. My Creator knew he needed something to turn the tide. So, he made me. I was the only Demon who possessed a sentience separate from his. Even now, although capable of thought, such entities as the Cyberdemon are not unique. I was the only one whose existence wasn't connected to Doom. This allowed me to think and act independently from my Creator. He focused on the conflict; I focused on ideas and inventions. As I assume you know, my existence led to the fall of Urdak and the Maykr race. Afterward, I was tasked with finding new realities for Doom to invade. Based on the technology and powers in the planes I investigated, I would discern what was and wasn't useful.
However, with time, these observations developed my sentience. I discovered so many wonderous cultures and societies. Beautiful places that overflowed with varied life. Yet, I could do nothing but direct Doom toward them. If I had attempted defiance, my Creator would've punished me. Perhaps, even consume my soul like our victims. The deaths of these innocents, and those that came before, such as the Maykrs, weighed heavily on my newfound conscious. I wanted to help them. But I couldn't. Doing so would only lead to my end, and Doom would still invade. I needed to bide time until a solution appeared. Eventually, one did.
A mortal man who wielded weapons and impressive might. He stood against the hordes like none before. However, he was still mortal. His skills grew, but he'd soon need more. Especially as I, at that time, was still in the service of my Creator. But then, once he walked through that horrid realm and knew it as home, I approached the mortal. He'd been driven insane by his encounters with my kind. He lunged at me, intending to end my life. I took his assault, offering no retaliation. My pacifism, thankfully, got through his madness. Never before had a Demon shown non-existent aggression. With this window of opportunity, I made my offer.
He'd permit me to atone for my sins in exchange for a new suit, which the mortal desperately needed. Hesitant but aware of his situation, the mortal agreed. The rest needs no explanation. I made the Praetor. The mortal, soon to be deemed Slayer, allowed me my redemption. Ever since then, I've wandered Creation. I've protected the remaining realities from the shadows beyond my Creator's vision. This one was the sole exception. The Marine's people had discovered Doom themselves before I arrived. When I did, as you now know, it was for damage control. Not that it was any good in the end." Wretch told them.
Following that, the Wretch became quiet. He gave the others time to process what they had heard.
"Any further questions?" Wretch asked a few minutes later. "Please, hold nothing back. I will answer them all. Or, should you wish to curse me for what I've done, I shall accept that as well." He said.
"...What happened to you?" Azrael inquired. "For context, I have peered into Doomguy's memories. It's a long story, so best to save it for later. Regarding my inquiry, in his memories, I saw you. Your skin was as pure as porcelain, and your eyes were blue. But now, your skin is like that of a corpse. Then, there's the obvious. Those machines and mechanical parts that are across your body. Forgive my next statement; it's horrifying. Looking at the state of yourself fills me with discomfort and concern." She explained.
For a brief period, the Wretch didn't reply. He needed to consider how best to address her question.
"...This...is part of my penance..." Wretch began as he moved his gaze downward. "These machines...they serve many functions. However, they also cause me unfathomable pain. The yellow light you see emanating from the mask grafted onto my skull is Divine energy. As you'd expect, when it courses through my body, it causes an indescribable agony. My soul is also affected. Imagine an infinite number of needles always stabbing you, and you can do nothing about it. The yellow coloration of my skin is partly from the energy, while the other reason is due to decay. These apparatuses you see and those you cannot are what keep me alive now. As you stated, I am closer to a corpse than a living creature. Still, I have not numbed my pain. Whenever it is possible, I increase it. This is the least I can do to atone. The souls of the innocent are tortured without end in Doom. If I were to exist in any other state, it would be a disrespect to their suffering." He told them.
"Holy fuck..." Angel Dust muttered with widened eyes, an expression he shared with the others.
"That's...insane..." Octavia said in disbelief. "How...How do you even function? How are you not screaming all the time? Convulsing on the floor? How can you even find the strength to speak coherently?" She questioned.
"I first augmented myself after parting ways with the Slayerr. I knew, with the Praetor, that he'd keep them busy. When I departed, I took with me several machines and tools. They aided me in my self-mutilation. Even then, I used no substances or otherwise to numb my torture. I was wide awake as the devices tore me open with no mercy. They ripped apart my bones. Stretched my muscles. Reconstructed my entire anatomy to function flawlessly with my new mechanical additions. I was jolted awake whenever I began to slip into darkness due to the overwhelming sensations. When it was done, I was dumped onto the ground. There I lay. Sweating. Bleeding. My vocal cords were far too bruised to produce sound. My body was too weak to move. I stayed there for an unknown time. Eventually, as I gathered what little strength I had to stand again, I set out on my path of penance. I limped. I wobbled. But I still marched forward. There is no rest for the wicked. Among them, none are worse than I." Wretch responded.
"No!" Nifty defiantly exclaimed. "You're trying your best to do what's right! Just like Doomguy! The one to blame is your Creator! Doom! You had no choice but to do what you did!" She asserted.
"I concur." Gabriel agreed, supporting Nifty. "Initially, you were no different than the rest of the Demons. But as you said yourself, you learned with time. You realized the horrors your master enacted. You felt regret. Empathy for Doom's victims. Anyone who'd blame you for not fighting him when it made no sense is a fool. There is a difference between bravery and pointless suicide. Again, as you stated, you had to wait for your chance to do what was right. When the time came, you didn't hesitate. You met with Doomguy, provided him the means to become a greater enemy to the Demons, then set out to do what good you could. You are nowhere close to being the same as your Creator. I truly believe that much is certain." He told him.
"Your words are far too kind for someone such as me. They're wasted on this pitiful soul. Doom is still using my machines and inventions. Even in my absence, I contribute to the slaughter. I will only deserve mercy and compassion once those accursed works are brought to their end." Wretch replied.
Like Nifty and Gabriel, the others wanted to express their thoughts and feelings. However, as they looked at the Wretch, they knew it'd be pointless. There sat a creature who saw themselves with unwavering conviction as a villain equal to the manifestation of evil itself. No matter what they tried, they wouldn't suddenly change his perception that he didn't deserve such cruelty.
"That's enough for now," Wretch spoke again, wanting to change the subject. "We should discuss what has brought you here. And, should there be time to spare, I'd like to understand the situation. Such as who you people are and how you came to know the Slayer. If we're to be allies in the war ahead of us, that much should be shared." He said.
"Hoo, boy. Where do we even begin?..." Angel Dust pondered aloud as he leaned back in his seat. "Hey, big guy, should I just start from the beginning?" He asked.
In reply, Doomguy nodded. Even though this technically began with the Mars invasion, he was confident that the Spider Demon would mention that as the story progressed.
"Alright then." Angel Dust started, preparing himself. "So, there I was, walking down the street. Some douchebag approaches me, which is typical where we're from. One thing leads to another, and I find myself in a shit situation. Then, like an intervention from the almighty himself, a downpour of bullets comes crashing through. Who else comes walking in to save my beautiful self? The armored man with a rifle in his hands." He said with a grin.