Doomguy had seen many things in his lifetime. Sadly, none were all too pleasant. The space marine had witnessed horrors so scarring and depraved that it'd drive a weaker soul insane. Although, in all fairness, there WAS a period where he was a raving lunatic obsessed with Demon murder.
To add to that, Doomguy was STILL obsessed with the slaughter of Demonic hordes. The main difference between now and then was his greater control. Doomguy was long past the days of laughing maniacally and yelling "Rip & Tear!" at the top of his lungs. Now, the space marine's days were spent in silent rage that flared whenever one of his enemies appeared before him.
Except...right now, Doomguy didn't feel angry. Well, that's not entirely accurate. The fury WAS still there. But it wasn't at the forefront of Doomguy's thoughts. He felt it inside himself, as he always had, but now...there was something else.
Sitting on the Goetia's doorsteps, Doomguy watched the others try out the weapons he made for them via the supplies I.M.P. gave him. Despite being a rambunctious bunch, the mixed group of Sinners and Hellspawns did their best to minimalize damage to the estate's front area. On their faces, looks of wonder, excitement, and joy could be seen. All because of the gifts they received from the space marine.
So, what was it Doomguy was feeling? Pride, perhaps? Yes, he'd confidently say that was one of the emotions. The quality of Doomguy's craftsmanship was on full display. Combined with the others' enjoyment, even the most stoic souls would struggle to maintain their appearance of uncaringness.
Yet, there was another feeling. It felt familiar and alien simultaneously. Try as he might, Doomguy couldn't discern the emotion's identity. What was it?...
"Doomguy."
That voice was Octavia's. She spoke from behind the space marine. As Doomguy turned to look at her, he discovered she carried a tray with a serving of tea for two.
"It was Rosie's idea," Octavia told him before he could ask. "She wanted to thank you. The staff tried to stop her, saying it wasn't proper. But one death glare from her was all it took to get them to back off." She explained.
Rather than waste time and ink trying to explain everything to Rosie, Doomguy instead shared the countless documents and notes the others had taken during his stay at the estate. Rosie wasn't intimidated by the amount; she assumed there'd be AT LEAST that much. Even so, despite having brunch not long ago, there would NEED to be tea or coffee present for the reading.
Admittedly, Rosie would prefer to enjoy the tea with Doomguy for more than one reason. But she understood why he followed the others outside, to keep them from destroying the front yard. So, she settled for Alastor, who was more than happy to help her make sense of the papers Doomguy had given.
"Here you go," Octavia said after sitting beside him. The tray remained with her, resting on her lap.
Doomguy nodded to show his appreciation. He accepted the beverage and took a small sip. When was the last time he had tea? Did he ever have it? These thoughts entered the space marine's head as he savored the rich flavor of the brew.
"I see the crazies are still going at it." Octavia joked, watching the absurdity unfolding in front of her house.
Again, Doomguy nodded.
"It was really nice of you to make those for them," Octavia told him. "Honestly, I'm surprised you felt comfortable since, ya know, we're Demons." She confessed.
To that, Doomguy took out his notepad and wrote something.
"You're not like the Demons I know. You're people."
"But we still do fucked up things. It's not as if we're saints." Octavia countered.
"True. But my metric of evil isn't the same as everyone else's. What you guys do and how you behave is a two, MAYBE a three for the worst of you." Doomguy wrote.
"Heh, that's fair." Octavia chuckled, taking a moment to sip her tea. "I can't even begin to imagine the full extent of what you've experienced. Not that I'd want to." She said.
"I hope you never do. The same goes for the others and everyone else. We do bad things to each other. Sometimes, inexcusably disgusting and horrendous things. But even the most vile soul, regardless if they are human or Demon like you, could NEVER come close to Doom. As I've been teaching you, it's evil incarnate. There's no hope for it. There never will be." Doomguy wrote.
For a few seconds, there was silence. Octavia and Doomguy enjoyed their beverages while observings the others' chaos.
"...Is it hard for you?" Octavia spoke to start another conversation. "It's a stupid question, I know. But is it tough for you to deal with this by yourself? You're challenging an entire realm of monsters. I know fighting them is dangerous, maybe even suicidal. But still, wouldn't you like some help?" She asked.
Doomguy tapped his pen on the notepad. What was the right thing to say to that? He pondered this not for Octavia's sake; he knew she could handle any response. He just wanted to convey everything he needed to in one go.
"Samuel told me a short while back that I wasn't special. I'm not a child of destiny or a prophetic hero. Furthermore, the circumstances that led to my survival and becoming whatever I am now could be repeated. At first, I didn't give it much thought because he pissed me off. But the truth is, he's right. I didn't die alongside my squad because I was ordered to patrol the perimeter. Luck played just as important a role in my victories and survival as skill. Only when I got the Praetor suit, the one nearly destroyed by the Caustic Sea, did I become something more. Yet, to Samuel's point, anyone could wear that suit, kill enough Demons, and become like me. Sure, I have my military background and training. However, none of that helped me against the Demons. They don't behave like enemy combatants. You have to react second by second, or you die. All my training did was show me how to strafe and shoot. Even so, I hate the idea of someone being put into my position. I got lucky. There's no guarantee it'd happen twice, only a chance. For as long as possible, I want to be the only one who goes toe-to-toe with them. But we may not have that luxury in the future. Inevitably, we'll need more than just Samuel and myself. So, when that time comes, at the very least, I'd like to show those who would fight the ropes. I want to do everything I can to ensure they'll return home. And, if possible, not turn out like me." Doomguy wrote.
Octavia couldn't believe what she was reading for multiple reasons. However, among them, two stood out the most. The first was due to Doomguy, intentionally or not, sharing some of his mysterious past with the young Goetia. Although it was a little bit, she learned what his initial encounter with the Demons was like. At least, that's what it sounded like.
The second reason for Octavia's amazement was what Doomguy ended with. As crazy as it might sound, her immediate emotion was anger. Or, perhaps, passionate confusion? Regardless of which, maybe a combination, when Octavia spoke again, she addressed that specific part.
"Why do you say that?" Octavia questioned. "What's so wrong with turning out like you? You've done nothing but try and protect everyone from Doom by yourself. You left your home and people behind to do that. You've been all alone, trapped with monsters. I still don't know much about you, Doomguy, but I can still say this much. You're a good person. Anyone in ANY reality would consider themselves lucky to be like you. Hell, they'd be lucky to KNOW you." She told him before looking away. "I know I am." She quietly muttered, not wanting to say it too loudly out of embarrassment.
Of course, Doomguy still heard Octavia. Ignoring that the space marine was mute, her words left him speechless. But then again, as Doomguy thought about it, that's how nearly everyone had acted once they learned more about him.
Charlie. Angel Dust. Azrael, especially. Etc. These people saw Doomguy as a good person. They also perceived him as a victim, which he objectively was. But try as he might, the space marine didn't and couldn't view himself that way. In his eyes and mind, Doomguy had become like the Demons. A machine meant for killing. An unstoppable force that wouldn't rest until it satiated its hunger. The Demons craved death. Doomguy dealt it.
But things had changed in the weeks the stoic soldier spent around these people, whether Demons, Sinners, or Angels. Maybe the difference was small, but Doomguy still noticed it. Doom never left his thoughts, but he found himself thinking about other things. This was also the most he's "spoken" in who KNOWS how long.
Was...Doomguy...relaxing? Did the space marine enjoy this downtime? He wanted to ponder these questions, but an upset teenager sat beside him. Doomguy felt he needed to say something to Octavia after the kind words she gave him.
Sadly, this would be the end of the duo's conversation. A portal appeared in the middle of the courtyard. Everyone's attention was directed to it, and those in the yard came to a halt while ceasing their destructive delights. However, any alarm or worry was quickly dispelled once they realized who had come.
"Holy shit! It's Gabriel!" Cherri was the first to recognize the Archangel as his hooded visage left the rift.
"Greetings, everyone," Gabriel spoke with a friendly wave. The others had begun gathering around when he was out of the portal.
"So, how'd the chat with yer pops go?" Angel Dust inquired, asking the question they were all thinking.
"Enlightening," Gabriel replied, being purposefully vague.
"Ooh. Mysterious." Angel Dust joked with a hand on his hip. "Let me guess; you're going to fill us in on all the details, ain't you?" He said.
"No. You're all coming with me to Heaven. My Father, God, wishes to have an audience with everyone. And I do mean EVERYONE." Gabriel revealed, ensuring to add emphasis.
"..."
"...You're fucking with us." Blitzo accused him of lying. Going so far as to point his newly-modified flintlock at him carelessly.
"No, Blitzo, I am not." Gabriel denied his accusation, unaffected by the primitive firearm. "Here's the short of it. What my Father has to say is FAR too complicated and, as you might put it, mind-blowing to relay through me or with something simple like a letter. Thus, he'd prefer to speak to EVERYONE in one sitting than do this multiple times." He explained.
"...So...we're going to see God..." Moxxie muttered in disbelief.
"That you are," Gabriel confirmed again.
...
...
Before either Doomguy or Gabriel knew it, they were alone. The Archangel wasn't the least bit surprised when the space marine was the only one remaining. The same applied to Doomguy's lack of any reaction.
"Your thoughts?" Gabriel inquired, interested to know what he was thinking.
"I'm intrigued. Not much else. The only thing I could think to ask would be the following: Will God clear everything up?" Doomguy wrote.
"Yes. I can assure you that much." Gabriel promised with a nod.
In response, Doomguy adorned an inquisitive expression. Yet, the space marine could only ponder what God had in store for a few seconds before he was interrupted.
"IS THIS TRUE?!" Stella, who violently burst through the entrance of her home, yelled at Doomguy and Gabriel. "ARE WE GOING TO SEE YOUR FATHER?! GOD?!" She questioned.
"Why yes, Miss Stella!" Gabriel confirmed, shouting back. "Those who were at my Niece's hotel, including her, are already in Heaven waiting for us! So, please, do not take much time to prepare!" He informed her.
Immediately afterward, Stella slammed the doors shut. Doomguy and Gabriel heard her yell again, most likely telling Alastor and Rosie that it was true. From there, the duo waited for the others to rejoin them when they finished their preparations.
The Ivory Tower, A Short While Earlier...
A beautiful array of aromas filled Samur's home. These remedial scents served a dual purpose. On the one hand, they helped to soothe the souls of Azrael, Lilith, and Michael to hasten their recovery. On the other hand, they made the Ivory Tower smell pleasant. What? Even someone like Samur didn't need a grand reason for EVERYTHING he did.
Samur hoped that by using these aromas, the overwhelmed trio would be back on their feet in time to assist him and Gabriel with the others. Although, if they weren't, Samur was confident that Doomguy would be unphased. After all that unfortunate soul has endured, the revelations Samur had to share wouldn't get the better of him.
Still, even with the absence of Samuel, Olivia, Lucifer, and possibly a few more, a SIZABLE group was still on its way. So, Samur needed to be ready. Currently, he attended to the drones and their set tasks. He wanted to ensure that the rooms he prepared were in perfect condition.
"All seems to be the way it should..." Samur said quietly, observing everything. "I haven't readied any refreshments. Maybe it would be wise? A nice cold or hot beverage does help to calm a disturbed mind." He carried on.
Continuing with his idle musings, Samur would soon see something most surprising on one of the drone's feeds. Someone was finally up. Admittedly, it was Samur's first guess.
Turning around and facing the doorway, Samur waited for his approaching visitor. The individual didn't need to wonder where he was. They were confident that Samur would be in his "study". After all, they grew up here.
"Father?" Michael called out as he neared the entryway. "Are you in there? If not, could you guide me to-"
He stopped there. Before Michael could finish the request, he reached the study's entrance.
"Hello." Samur greeted with a warm smile as his Son appeared. "You wanted to speak with me?" He inquired.
"Uh...yeah..." Michael confirmed with an embarrassed blush. He should've known his Dad was aware of his arrival.
"Come." Samur beckoned, wanting Michael to stand close to him. "Don't hold anything back. Get it all out, and I promise to answer everything." He vowed.
"I...don't need anything answered. You explained it all and SO much else earlier." Michael started, walking over to him. "Well, I guess that's not true. I have a question, but it's not about Doom or the other stuff you shared." He admitted.
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't ask it. Whatever's troubling you, please, share it with me." Samur requested.
"...Why...didn't you tell us?..." Michael hesitantly asked. He knew how ridiculous that sounded. "Let me be clear. I'm asking why you never thought we could handle the truth. I get it. It's a LOT to take in. I'm still working through the information in my head. But you're our Dad. Even if you're not the ultimate being, that doesn't matter. If you ever wanted help, all you needed to do was fill us in. We'd happily keep the secret while assisting you and maintaining the cover story. I feel terrible that you've dealt with this alone when we could've assisted you. Not taking into account the Demon-killing man with a shotgun." He clarified.
"Simple, Michael. Before I discovered that, with enough times, mortals could breach the barriers I created, I never felt there was any true concern." Samur confessed. "Yes, Doom was and always will be dangerous. Although it might sound cruel, should a single world be absorbed by them due to the actions of its people, it was safe to leave them to their fate. They were isolated incidents that couldn't give Doom any means of large-scale invasion or presence. But once mortals began conceiving technology that could be obtained and used by the Demons, that's when I realized I needed to take even more precautions. If my children's focus was divided between selling a story they knew was false and helping me with Doom, it wouldn't have been good for their health at all, nor anyone else's. All of you could tend to our reality whilst I tended to the others." He explained.
"But what about YOUR health?" Michael countered. "I know you have all this technology and sorcery at your disposal. Yet it still takes a toll on you! I constantly say the same thing to Gabriel about his work! I realize its importance; I'm not ignorant. But you still need to take care of yourself!" He exclaimed.
For a moment, there was a pause. However, before long, a smile appeared on Samur's face.
"Always so considerate and caring." Samur complimented his Son. "Michael, your concern for me is heartwarming. Thank you. Unfortunately, it is unwarranted. Nothing in my life has ever come close to surpassing the loss of Urdak, the Maykrs, and Khan. An intensive workload is a light nuisance in comparison." He told him.
"Even so, it pains me to think of how long this has been going on. Again, I can't stress this enough, your reasoning is sound. There's no fault in it. But now, knowing that my Dad was dealing with so much yet never showed it breaks my heart. I realize how irrational and pointless that is. But I can't help it. All I want to hear from you is a promise that this is it. No more secrets. Everything is on the table, and now we, your children, can help you. Please." Michael requested.
In reply, Samur said nothing. Instead, he moved closer to his Son and embraced him. This action caused Michael's eyes to widen. Tears formed in them as his Father hugged him tightly.
"You have my word, as do the rest. Be they family or friends. The extent of my knowledge is yours. There are no more secrets. There is nothing else I can give. All that I am is in this tower. Anything that isn't was left in Urdak. I cannot promise that there won't be surprises. But I vow that I will be alongside you in their discovery. From here onward, we must all work together. Although I am your Father, this does not make me your better. Michael, we are equal. I will help you as much as you help me. I hope this promise is enough." Samur stated.
What followed was nothing elaborate. Michael cried but didn't sob. He returned his Father's embrace. It'd been so long since they hugged like this; he wanted to savor it.
Of course, Samur didn't mind at all. He wished for more moments like this. Hopefully, after the shock, the Granddaughter he's never met would be willing to embrace him. This thought had always existed in Samur's mind since Charlie's birth.
"Father!"
Gabriel's voice was heard. It came from outside. Fortunately, both Samur and his Son could hear it.
"It seems your Brother has returned," Samur said as they parted. "Before we descend, do you think Lilith and Azrael are better now?" He asked.
"I checked on them before I came to see you. They're still out of it. I'm pretty sure they're asleep, even." Michael answered, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I think it'd be best to get the others out of the way, take care of those who need it, then check back in with them if they don't come to find us by that point." He suggested.
"A sound idea." Samur approved.
Afterward, the Father and Son duo left the study. Michael, in particular, felt as though his soul was lighter. As such, he descended alongside Samur with his usual smile. Whatever the future held, he was confident they could handle it together.