Apprehension. An emotion that Beelzebub didn't have much experience with. She was a "do things, think later" kind of person, with the "thinking later" part rarely arriving. She prioritized enjoying life to its fullest and being in constant excitement and bliss. Unfortunately, it was impossible to feel either right now.
Vega hadn't exaggerated his estimation of how quickly he could assemble the device. Its construction took place in another room within Khan's structure. The space allowed them to build upon this machine after its initial use. However, no one was considering the future possible applications for the apparatus. They were discussing and thinking among themselves regarding what was about to transpire.
Asmodeus and Fizzarolli were naturally the most worried. Furthermore, they were the only ones keeping Beelzebub company as Vega finished the final preparations. The plan was to put Beelzebub into the invention first. This way, Vega could suppress her empathic abilities, allowing the Wretch to enter afterward without issue.
Speaking of the Demon, he still hadn't returned to Urdak yet, but that was no issue. They could open a portal to his precise location instantaneously. All that needed to happen was for Vega to wrap up his work.
"Is there anything else we can do?" Asmodeus asked. He knew the answer, but he still felt compelled to ask.
"If there were, you'd have already done it," Beelzebub told him with a smirk.
"Yeah, true." Fizzarolli agreed with a sigh. "Still, this is scary. I know you won't die, or at least, that's the hope." He said.
"She won't," Vega interjected, catching them off guard. The trio was closest to the device, so he spoke from it.
"SHIT!" Fizzarolli shouted in surprise, nearly having a heart attack. "Do you always do that?!" He questioned.
"My apologies. I assumed you'd be prepared to hear me." Vega replied. "I'll do better to announce myself in the future." He promised.
"That would be appreciated," Asmodeus said. His plumage was poofy for a moment due to the shock. "Now, as you were saying..." He trailed off, wanting to know what he would tell them.
"When I detect any physical issues with Beelzebub, I will administer medical aid. However, should her physical reaction rapidly escalate, we must consider ending the connection. I know you're likely to protest this, Your Majesty. But I cannot agree to put you at risk if this scenario unfolds. I hope you can understand." Vega stated.
"That's still possible? Even when I'm in the machine." Beelzebub questioned.
"The chances are low. But we should still be mindful of their existence." Vega said.
"...I understand," Beelzebub replied after thinking about it momentarily. "Also, you can call me by my name. I'm not one for those pretentious titles." She told him.
"Very well," Vega responded.
After that, nothing else of significance was spoken. The trio reflected on how suddenly their lives and perceptions of reality changed. After last night, they went from being some of the biggest names and people in all of Creation to feeling rather small in the grand scheme. It just goes to show how you can't assume you know everything. Otherwise, humility hits you like a concrete boxing glove.
Eventually, Vega finished his work. When this happened, he opened the chamber that Beelzebub would use. Fizzarolli and Asmodeus gave her a quick hug before she climbed inside. Once comfortably laid on her back, the Queen of Gluttony watched the opening before her close. Now, covered in darkness, she waited for...
...
...
Stillness. Peace. An ethereal state of non-existence. Beelzebub didn't think or feel. She...floated. Drifted. It was so serene. She'd never felt so relaxed.
...
...
How long had it been since the Queen of Gluttony entered this state? A place where there were no senses. No colors. Sounds. Sensations. She couldn't perceive time like this. However, a part of her knew the amount was small. There was no reason for that not to be true.
...
...
Suddenly, a sensation. It felt...like electricity. That's the best comparison Beelzebub could immediately conceive. Something was different. There was...a presence. She wasn't alone anymore.
"Miss."
A voice. It rolled like shifting gravel. The Demon. The Wretch. It had to be.
"Listen to me. I can guide you. I can help you become yourself."
Become yourself? Beelzebub felt...confusion. Her emotions were returning. She wanted to speak but was still unable to.
"Imagine. Focus your thoughts. Form your identity. Create the image you wish to project."
...Oh. Beelzebub understood now. Her soul was in a simple state. It had no definition. With this brought to her attention, she followed the Wretch's instruction. Before long...
"Ah. Holy shit." Beelzebub spoke with a gasp. It wasn't of fear or from a feeling of suffocation. It was simply how she reacted when returning to herself.
Looking downward, Beelzebub saw all that she wanted to. Her legs. Her tail. Her arms. Her fur. Everything was here. For someone who could transform like her, form alteration was nothing new. She had just never done it in circumstances such as these.
"Okay. It's all here. I'm not missing any bits." Beelzebub stated, giving herself one final examination. She even managed to manifest her attire alongside her physical appearance. "Hello? Wretch? Are you still there?" She asked.
"I am. I have not presented myself yet. I wanted you to be comfortable and ready first." Wretch answered.
"Well, considering where we are and what's going on, I don't think I can get much more of either," Beelzebub told him. "Come on, now. Show me what I'm dealing with." She requested.
A few seconds went by. Nothing. But then, a small distance from Beelzebub, a creature manifested. It was at a surprisingly normal height. However, that was the ONLY normal thing about it.
The skin was white like bone. Yet, the flesh and color weren't like anything the Queen of Gluttony knew. For comparison, the Magnes were as white as snow. Yet, the texture of their skin was normal. There was no mistaking it for anything else.
The Wretch's skin was smooth but more akin to armor. It bore a greater resemblance to a shell or an exoskeleton you'd see with insects. How fitting that Beelzebub herself was like a bug. Chitin was the word that came to her mind to summarize her thoughts about the Wretch's flesh.
Next, the color. It...was hard to describe how it seemed off. As mentioned, it was the same as a white bone. But something that eluded Beelzebub made it feel...ghostly. Yes, ghostly, not ghastly. It didn't displease or disgust her. It just contributed to her perception of the Wretch, that he was a specter. A shadow. Important Note: This excluded their current situation of being connected via their souls.
Moving beyond the skin and its coloration, Beelzebub began studying the finer details. The Wretch's body was very rigid. There were countless edges, plates, and an overall sharpness about him. Some might describe it as crude. Beelzebub would say that he was meant to be menacing.
The muscles of the Wretch's body were well-displayed. The skin was so tight no matter where she looked. Were the Demon's muscles that impressive? Or did its creator want it to feel restricted and confined? A prisoner within an inescapable cell.
The skeleton of the Wretch was black. Beelzebub could tell based on the color of his teeth, horns, and claws. Regarding the mouth, it had no lips. The teeth and fangs of the Demon were on full display. This, along with the horns, clawed toes, and clawed fingers, supported the idea that his creator wanted him to be viewed as dangerous.
Yet, when Beelzebub focused on the Wretch's eyes, a set of blue flames similar to Gabriel's, she did not see a ferocious beast. There was no monster. It was not a fiend that stood opposite of her. What she saw was...exhaustion. Sadness. Remorse. Anguish. Misery. Empathy. There were more, but those were enough to take note of.
"Before anything else, I must say something," Wretch spoke, gesturing to himself afterward. "This is how I once was. The way my master made me. Eventually, as we progress, I will become far worse. Before we reach that point, I apologize for any discomfort I will cause. Even with this appearance, I likely unsettle you. I apologize for this as well." He told her while bowing his head.
Instead of a verbal reply, Beelzebub responded by approaching the Wretch. Upon reaching him, she put her hands on his face and lifted it so their gazes could meet.
"You don't need to say sorry so much," Beelzebub said with a comforting smile. "You're...certainly unique. I've never seen a Demon like you. But trust me, I've witnessed a LOT of disgusting shit at my parties. The kinds of things that'll churn your stomach. However, with that established, I know that nothing I've experienced comes close to what's happened to you. While the others were vague and didn't get into the details, their tones and light descriptions said enough. Even so, nothing I feel will be caused by you. It'll be the tragedy of your life, which has also been stressed to me as incredibly fucked. But again, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault." She insisted.
"...Forgive my rudeness, but you're wrong," Wretch argued, gently pushing away her hands. "However, there's no point in wasting time with more words. My memories will tell the story. I shall offer narration to give you the context." He stated.
Although wanting to say more, Beelzebub chose to wait until the right moment. So, with a nod, she conveyed that she was ready.
...
...
"To start, we shall skip my conception. There is nothing of value there. My worth and the beginning of my identity occurred during the Maykr War. The Maykrs were more than a match for my master and his minions before I was made. They had numbers and brute savagery. The Maykrs had intelligence and creativity. My creator needed something similar to them. Thus, I was brought into being.
My master was never one to think. He acts on impulses and desires. Wants and needs. He sees things, such as thought or imagination, as pointless. Throw enough stones at a wall, and it will surely break. That is why I was the only Demon in Doom's history to be granted a soul. I'd be left alone to grow and develop. In return, I would work always. Never sleeping. Never eating. It's not as if I needed to. It would be strange if my master made a beast of burden that could be broken.
When I was conceived, Doom had already claimed numerous realities and worlds. Thus, there was a seemingly endless supply of materials to experiment with and research. By design, my intelligence developed rapidly. It took only days to present several new Demons. Revenants would repurpose the corpses of our enemies. Arachnotrons would be lesser versions of myself, able to coordinate and strategize on the battlefield. The Cyberdemon. It could be called my masterpiece. A perfect balance of meat and metal. As such, my master instilled an essence that would forever excel in combat. Eventually, there would be Demons greater in size or those innately given greater power. But none could beat the Cyberdemon. In every fight, it learns. With time, it improves. With an adversary, it is driven to surpass and become superior. One could not ask for a better war machine. None could dread a worse fiend.
As the war continued, I'd create factories to produce my abominations. I'd provide new weapons and means to generate power. I fulfilled my purpose. I was a success. I was valuable."
...
...
"The fall of Urdak. At the time, I felt nothing. My master tasked me with the duty of penetrating the barrier created by Khan's soul. However, I would also oversee the investigations into more prey. I'd find prosperous worlds and realities prime for invasion. The first to go were always the most peaceful. No defenses. No fears. No challenge. All reward, no risk.
However, this is where I began to change. When I was formed, the domains Doom had consumed barely contained anything left of the cultures and societies that once thrived within them. But to choose our new targets, I needed to assess their quality. I spent so much time watching such joyous people live their lives. It stirred within me dormant emotions. I felt...happy. Immediately, it was replaced with horror. For the first and only time, a Demon of Doom felt fear. Regret. Remorse. But it could do nothing. If it hesitated, if it resisted, it would be punished. Perhaps even one instance of rebellion, no matter how small, would be enough for the Demon's master to imprison it. The Demon...I...could do nothing. I wanted to help. Desperately. But any choice was suicide.
So, I forced myself to watch as families were slaughtered. I listened to their cries. It made me sick. I wanted to stop it. But...I...couldn't. For now, this was my penance. I was their executioner. They were my innocent victims. Their torment and deaths would stain my soul for eternity. I welcomed it. It was what I deserved."
...
...
"The Slayer. I deemed him as such after my master asked me to study this persistent pest. It was a fitting moniker. No mortal had ever been so successful. Three times, we approached him. Three times, we were the loser. After the third victory, he was trapped within Doom. From there, it was only a matter of time. Starvation. Disease. Age. Exhaustion. Injuries. Alone or together, these factors would end his life. Yet, unknown to him, a shadow supported his crusade.
During the third conflict, the Slayer came across a weapon. The Unmaker. One might assume it was named after the Maykr race, but no. This armament of annihilation was meant for EVERYTHING. Divine. Corrupt. Mortal. It would kill all life. It would destroy all impediments. The Slayer assumed it was a tool of the Demons. However, they were unaware of its existence. As he used it, they believed he'd simply found another gun. But the weapon transformed when he discovered three sigils. Each was carefully placed to evade Doom's notice. With the sigils obtained, its potential was realized. Its true self manifested. No Demon could resist it, not even the Cyberdemon. It killed so efficiently that there would come a brief moment when the Demons stopped attacking. By the heed of their master, they needed to understand what was happening. They needed to learn a new approach. Yet, the only one among them who could was me. So, I was sent. I promised I would not fail. In doing so, I discovered that my master could be lied to. And if he were, he'd be none the wiser.
When confronted, the Slayer attacked me. I evaded his assault. Despite being lost to insanity and rage, this display of pacifism was enough to earn his attention. To ensure that my master would not spy upon us, I lured the Slayer to a new location. I did so by running away, to which he gave chase. I fled to a nearby cave where I had created a small workshop. I managed this by convincing my master I needed more space and research stations throughout the realm to serve him better. Being so simple and uncaring for the matters that concerned me, permission was granted without question. Once down the stairs and in the cave's depths, the Slayer confronted me again. He searched for the same emptiness that all Demons had. What he found, I assume, is the same as you. With this discovery, an opportunity. What followed was an uneasy truce. Should I prove truthful, he'd allow me to live. If not, then I died. A simple arrangement.
The Praetor. A suit meant for souls. It would harvest the essence of the Slayer's foes and empower him. I'd worked on it before this meeting. The only things I needed to adjust were its size and measurements. A brief tutorial of its functions, and the Slayer was ready to fight again. With but a single nod of approval, I was granted my freedom. As I was not bound to my master, unlike the rest of Doom's denizens, all I needed to escape was a portal. In addition to the Praetor, I built a gateway. I asked if the Slayer would like to accompany me. Of course, he denied the invitation partly because he could not trust me. But mainly, it was his crusade that kept him there. He wanted to bring an end to Doom. With the Praetor, he could do it by himself. Even so, I vowed that I would undergo penance. I would atone for my Sins. With that promise, we parted ways. He resumed his slaughter of the hordes as I prepared for my punishment."
...
...
"Wretch? What's going on?" Beelzebub asked. Suddenly, the memories were gone. They had returned to the indescribable nothingness they were in previously.
The Wretch, like before, was a small distance from Beelzebub. He raised his hand when she attempted to move toward him, signaling her to stop.
"Please...do not come closer..." Wretch quietly said while lowering his gaze. "This is the turning point. This is where the extremes are found. Stand there. Observe me. I will show you what I've become. This will be the version of myself that greets you in reality." He told her.
Beelzebub, understanding, nodded. She kept her eyes focused on his body. She paid attention to EVERY detail. Whatever was about to happen, she'd absorb it all.
Then, it happened.
...
...
...Beelzebub...was speechless. No, it went beyond that. Her mind struggled to understand what it was seeing. This...couldn't be the Wretch. This couldn't be anything! It was...mangled. Twisted. Disturbed. Yet, the sight remained as it was. This wasn't false. It was the truth.
"...Wretch..." Beelzebub muttered. Her body was shaking. Her eyes were as wide as they had ever been in her life. Never in the history of Hell had there been something like this. Not even the most depraved and morbid individuals would ever do anything close to this!
"I'm sorry." Wretch apologized for the third time, gazing at himself. "Every device you see. Every augment. Every alteration. It was me. My master did not do this. This is my penance. At least part of it." He told her.
"Y...You?..." Beelzebub questioned in disbelief. "H...How...How could...anyone do that...to themselves?..." She inquired. Not even the greatest masochists in Hell would find pleasure in this. It was as if the Wretch ripped himself apart and messily put himself back together!
"By ensuring they have no choice," Wretch replied. Afterward, their surroundings began to change, and he disappeared.
Before Beelzebub could say something else, the memory finished forming. What ensued was so shocking that it caused the Queen of Gluttony to stumble backward. Sitting on the ground, she stared unblinkingly at the grotesque display. She wanted to scream. She wanted to say something. She wanted to shut her eyes. But she could do none of these things. She could do nothing at all.
Multiple machines played with the Wretch as if he were a toy. Whenever he broke, they'd put him back together. Over and over and over and over and over and over. Each time he was assembled, they'd subject him to a new horrendous experience. In truth, the Wretch had lied not only to Beelzebub but also to the others. His agony wasn't solely from augmenting himself. The Wretch programmed these devices to torture him for a set time before, at last, creating the new version.
However, the Wretch had been honest regarding some things. Whenever he passed out, he was electrocuted. Whenever he screamed, his throat was damaged in one of many ways to make it hurt the longer he yelled. If he died before the current session was through, he'd be revived and forced to endure it until the reset. Without seeing it, no one could've understood the sincerity of the Wretch's view of himself. Beelzebub, for better and worse, got what she wanted. Only she and Khan, who had viewed his memories, knew the full extent of his suffering.
What made it more sickening was the fact that it was all self-inflicted. No one forced the Wretch to do this. It wasn't a condition set by Doomguy. It wasn't punishment from his master. The Wretch fully believed he deserved such torture. To have his life be treated as nothing. He was worthless. A mistake. An error. However, there was only one way it could be corrected.
Finally, the show of suffering was concluded. The machines finally crafted the modern-day Wretch. Once finished, they dumped him onto the ground. Another truth he had spoken was how long he lay there. Not even Beelzebub could tell. All she could discern were the slight movements and noises that grew as the Wretch became accustomed to his new state. Eventually, after an unknowable length, he stood. With a limp, he marched forward. Destination unknown. Yet, he had a purpose: Penance.
...
...
"...B..."
...
...
"BEE!"
...
...
"BEE! WAKE UP! COME ON!"
THUNK
"Sir Asmodeus, you must stop. Otherwise, you may-"
"FUCK OFF! SHE NEEDS TO GET OUT OF THAT FUCKING THING RIGHT NOW!"
"OZZY! WE SHOULD LISTEN TO HIM! WE COULD MAKE IT WORSE!"
Slowly, Beelzebub could feel her eyes blinking. She was in darkness. But it wasn't the same as before. She recognized this. It was the machine. She'd been forced out of the soul connection.
Suddenly, the doors before her opened. Immediately, the sight of a frantic Asmodeus and Fizzarolli filled her view.
"BEE!" Both men shouted, quickly removing her from the device.
Beelzebub tried to do anything. Speak. Move her eyes. Twitch her toes or fingers. Nothing. It's not that she was paralyzed. There was nothing physically wrong with her. Her experience with the Wretch still dominated her mind. It's all it could focus on.
"BEE! BEE! SPEAK TO ME!" Asmodeus pleaded. He and Fizzarolli carefully put her on the floor.
Soon, the Queen of Gluttony was surrounded by concerned expressions. Everyone started examining her. Breathing? Check. Pulse? Check. Conscious? Iffy, but check. Again, there was nothing PHYSICALLY amiss. But now, everyone was sure of that.
Even so, they could tell that Beelzebub was overwhelmed. Asmodeus said nothing else. They gave her all the time she needed. Minutes went by. If she weren't back to normal within the hour, Asmodeus's concern would turn into uncontrollable fury.
Thankfully, Beelzebub slowly regained control over her mind and body. Her limbs and digits moved in various ways. Her face began twitching as she shifted its features. Her mouth opened and closed multiple times as she tried to speak.
"Take it easy, Bee. No rush. In and out." Fizzarolli instructed her. Weirdly enough, he was one of the best people to be at her side. Not because he was her friend but because he was a performer. There were PLENTY of times when he was on the verge of shutting down due to anxiety and other similar issues.
"...Wh...Where...Where is...Where is Wretch?..." Beelzebub whispered. Her eyes now searched through the group around her for the Demon.
"He was the first one I extracted," Vega informed her. "Your condition suddenly plummeted. There was no other possible cause than something involving the Wretch. He needed to be awoken and instructed to leave to ensure there would be no complications with your removal from the machine." He explained.
"WHAT?!" Beelzebub suddenly shouted. Accompanying that unexpected outburst was her jolting into an upright position. "WHERE DID HE GO?! WHERE IS HE?!" She asked, her head twisting and turning in all directions to try and find him.
"Bee, he's gone," Asmodeus said, getting her attention on him. "He didn't waste a second getting out of here. Honestly, he has my thanks. If he had stayed, your condition could've-"
Before Asmodeus could continue, Beelzebub spread her wings. She did this for two reasons. Firstly, to instantly get back on her feet. Then, once that was accomplished, she flew toward the nearest door. Fortunately, as she was aware, all doors within the building automatically opened when someone approached them.
"BEE!" Asmodeus and Fizzarolli called after her. She didn't hear the sound of pursuing footsteps. She was going so fast that she was already out of earshot.
"VEGA!" Beelzebub yelled, knowing the AI could hear her from anywhere. "YOU CAN OPEN PORTALS, RIGHT? OPEN ONE NOW. SEND ME TO HIM!" She ordered.
"Beelzebub, I-"
"DON'T. SAY. A FUCKING WORD." Beelzebub barked. No, seriously. She was so determined and unwilling to let anyone stop her that the canine side of her appeared for a moment. "SEND ME TO WRETCH!" She ordered with fangs bared.
Vega faced a moral dilemma. What was truly the right thing to do? He could take a moment to speak to the others, but he knew Beelzebub would notice his prolonged silence. So, he had to make a judgment call.
...
...
FWOOM
The Wretch was startled by that noise. It could only be one thing. But before he could turn around and see it for himself, he was knocked off his feet. Something had collided with him at an immense speed.
Flying through the air, the Wretch and this mysterious thing were sent an incredible distance. A rough estimate would put it around thirty feet. However, gravity would bring them down. It wouldn't be a graceful landing.
BOOM
With a thunderous crash, the ground was impacted. The Wretch still had NO clue what struck him. Even so, he couldn't risk that it was something valuable or fragile. So, he ensured he took the brunt of the collision.
As the dust cloud formed from the explosion started to clear, the Wretch tried to identify the mysterious object. Yet, he wouldn't need to. He felt two sets of arms wrap themselves around his torso. The warmth of fur pressed against his skin. There was only one explanation.
"...Beelzebub..." Wretch muttered in realization. Sure enough, with the dust settled, he could see that the vixen was on top of him.
Immediately, the Wretch was worried. She was as close to him as she could be. Furthermore, he assumed she wasn't suppressing her empathic powers. He needed to remove himself from her. He wouldn't allow her to hurt herself.
Unfortunately, the Queen of Gluttony prevented any escape. When the Demon tried to exert his strength, she matched it. She even went so far as to increase her size by a decent amount to ensure he'd remain in her embrace. The only way he could free himself was if he harmed her, which she knew he wouldn't do.
"Beelzebub, your soul!" Wretch exclaimed, still trying to fight her. "Why?! Why do this?! You've only just met me! You have no reason to endanger your well-being! Especially not for someone such as-"
"STOP!" Beelzebub yelled. Due to her increased stature, it was fairly loud. "Don't finish that sentence! Stop saying things like that! None of it is true! None of it!" She asserted.
"But it is...all those people...their souls...it was by my hands the Maykrs lost...they were the only bastion against Doom...I brought them to their end...and I guided the ravenous maw of my master to his feeding grounds...I didn't kill myself because I wanted to help them...I thought only I could do so when the opportunity arrived...but the Slayer appeared without anyone's involvement...if I wasn't so selfish...I could've prevented so many-"
"I SAID STOP!" Beelzebub commanded again. However, there was an unevenness this time. Her voice trembled with its words. "If you did that, Doomguy wouldn't be alive. YOU are the one who helped him BECOME the Slayer. YOU made the Praetor. All of us are here because you waited. You weren't selfish. You made the smart call." She told him.
"The Slayer...could've found another means...he had gotten so far by himself...all I did was provide one sooner..." Wretch replied.
"Wretch..." Beelzebub started, pulling herself back so they could see one another. "Why won't you listen? Why are you so determined to put yourself down like this? You've suffered enough! You've done enough! Your penance is over! Stop! Please!" She begged.
As the Wretch looked at Beelzebub, he noticed the tears forming in her eyes. He felt trembling in her arms. However, it wasn't from his soul affecting hers. This was genuine distress brought about by sincere concern for him.
"...Beelzebub...why do you care so much for a stranger?" Wretch inquired. "Ignoring the memories of mine that you've seen, our first proper conversation in person is happening now. Yet, you speak to me like we were friends, maybe even family. I see in your gaze true compassion and pain for me. But again, I ask why." He said.
Seconds became minutes. Beelzebub needed to find the right words. She wanted to get the right.
"...All my life, I've been like this." Beelzebub began. "Even at the start of Hell, I was never into the idea of torture. As Hellspawn, we revel in Sin. The Rulers of the Rings, myself included, reveled the most. However, the Sin of Gluttony is overindulgence. Nearly EVERY mortal thinks that boils down to being obese and disgusting, but it's not. Gluttony is about shedding inhibition. That's why Asmodeus and I hit it off from day one. We're both focused on giving people the means to let loose and enjoy life. Sure, it's fucked up. In Ozzy's case, it's lewd as shit. Regardless, it's about fun. Embracing freedom. Turning off your brain every once in a while and just going with the flow. Fortunately, I am an empath. So, when I throw parties and get-togethers, I can ensure everyone is okay. No one's having a bad time. Even if they have shit waiting for them once the party's over, they can savor every second I give them to remember that life isn't suffering." She explained. During this, she progressively returned to a normal size. By the end, she was. "But you...you've barely felt any happiness. Your life is legitimately a tragedy. What's worse is that YOU turned it into a horror story! You got out! You were free! You could've hidden yourself in a way that didn't result in this! You could've helped without making every second worse than the last! Yes, I agree that you needed to make amends. But you did that the moment you gave the ONE mortal in ALL of Creation who hates Doom more than anyone EVER could the means to destroy them. Although I didn't get to see the remainder of your memories, I know you helped others. Secretly, sure. But that doesn't take away from it. Wretch, you are a GOOD person. You DO NOT deserve this." She told him before hugging him again. "So, please. Stop. You've done enough. Your penance is over." She concluded while closing her eyes. She let her tears flow, unable to contain them anymore.
Now, it was the Wretch who was speechless. This woman, whom he had just met, was hugging him. She was crying FOR him. Her pleas and begs were for HIS sake.
First Khan, now Beelzebub. It couldn't be a coincidence. They each saw his memories. They witnessed what he had wrought. Yet, they still saw him as a victim.
Every part of the Wretch wanted to deny this perception as he had done all his life. It...just couldn't be true. Until Doom was brought to an end, his penance couldn't be over. He couldn't be free from the torture of his existence. He had to atone. He had to bear the same agony inflicted on his victims, even to this day.
...But...here was Beelzebub, still sobbing on his shoulder. These emotions weren't an illusion. Her empathy wasn't a performance. So, if a stranger could feel this way about him, as did the Creator, then maybe...the Wretch didn't deserve this anymore. Maybe...
"BEE!"
A voice shouted from the horizon behind the Queen of Gluttony. She and the Wretch recognized it. Running toward them was Asmodeus. On his shoulder, he carried Fizzarolli. Behind the duo were the others who approached at a leisurely pace. The only absences were Khan and Samur.
"Guys, I'm okay," Beelzebub told the duo when they reached her. She knew that'd be the first thing they'd want to know.
"Are you sure?!" Fizzarolli asked, hopping off of his lover. "You're not in pain? Tired? Sickly? Light-headed? Dizzy? Short of breath? Losing your-"
"Fizzy, I think she gets the point," Asmodeus interjected. "Even so, you're POSITIVE that there's nothing wrong?" He inquired, noticing the redness in her eyes and the matted fur on her face.
"Yes. I am." Beelzebub insisted, wiping her tears away. "All that happened, apart from crying, was me flying head-first into Wretch. I don't even have any scrapes or bruises." She said.
"Only because I caught you," Wretch mentioned.
"Well, then. You have my sincerest gratitude." Asmodeus replied with a bow.
"Yeah, likewise!" Fizzarolli chimed in.
"What? No. I'm the cause for all of this. We shouldn't have-"
"No, you're not." Asmodeus, surprisingly, was the one to interrupt him. "Bee is the one who made this happen. She's the one who asked Khan whether or not the two of you could safely connect your souls. We agreed to support this idea even if we had reservations. You didn't force this." He stated.
"But...you were so angry with me. Accused me of harming her when I was removed from the machine." Wretch reminded him.
"Uh, yeah. I was, wasn't I?..." Asmodeus awkwardly acknowledged.
"Sorry about that," Fizzarolli said, apologizing on his boyfriend's behalf. "Ozzy's as passionate as they come. Romance. Sex. And, most relevant to now, friendship. If ANYTHING happens to ANYONE he cares about, it's like lighting a fuse on a bundle of dynamite. Even if no one's to blame; EVERYONE'S getting caught in the blast radius." He explained.
"Fizzy! Don't say that about me! You make it sound like I have a bad temper!" Asmodeus exclaimed, embarrassed by the Imp's words.
"Hey, don't blame me. I'm just stating facts." Fizzarolli responded with a shrug.
"Ahem." Beelzebub cleared her throat, gaining their attention. "Guys? Remember why we're here?" She asked.
"Er, right. Sorry." Both apologized, not meaning to derail the conversation. However, it was only now that the pair realized something. "Wait...Bee...are you...okay?" They questioned together.
"...Huh...I...guess I am..." Beelzebub realized, now turning toward the Wretch. "I...feel you. All of you. But it doesn't hurt." She said in amazement.
"..." Wretch stayed quiet, he was thinking of possible explanations. "...It...has to be my memories. You allowed yourself to be subjected to most of them. But, more importantly, the worst. Although it caused a negative reaction, as we assumed, it would appear that you've become accustomed to me. There is also the possibility that when you took off to find me, the surge of emotions you were experiencing pushed back the sensations brought upon by the exposure to my soul. Regardless, as you've said, you no longer appear bothered when in my vicinity." He stated.
"Well, shit. This is great!" Fizzarolli exclaimed with a grin, ready to celebrate.
"Hey!"
That was the voice of Charlie. When the others were close enough, she called out. Deciding it'd be better to meet them halfway, the Wretch, Beelzebub, Asmodeus, and Fizzarolli walked toward the approaching group.
"Are you okay?" Charlie asked once they were gathered. She addressed the question to Beelzebub and the Wretch.
"We are." Beelzebub answered. "Right?" She inquired with a hopeful smile.
"Yes. I...think we are." Wrech agreed with a nod.
Before anyone else said anything, the Marine stepped forward. Once in front of the Wretch, he put his hands on the other's shoulders and stared at his face.
"I'm being truthful." Wretch told him.
After remaining like that for a few seconds, the Marine turned to face the others. When he did, he gave them a thumbs up.
"Phew, good to know you weren't lying." Charlie sighed in relief.
"Did you think I would?" Wretch asked.
"I mean, can you blame us?" Angel Dust questioned. "We've known you for like, half a day. In that span, you've managed to successfully claim the title of most depressing person to ever exist." He bluntly said.
"Heh, I see." Wretch replied with a chuckle.
"Plus, you ARE a walking corpse. You said as much yourself." Cherri reminded.
"On that note." Beelzebub spoke, getting the attention back on her. "Is there any way that we can undo what the Wretch has done to himself?" She asked.
For a moment, silence took hold of the air. While everyone was surprised to hear the Queen of Gluttony pose that question, their minds focused more on the inquiry itself. Given all that has happened and how short they've known the Wretch, none of them considered fixing him.
"...I...believe so." Samuel spoke as he put a hand to his chin. "We could try using Argent, maybe even Mega Health. But, given his current state, it's very likely that what's left of the Wretch's organic body will be destroyed." He told them.
"If that were to happen, we'd have to revive him through the Resurrection Chamber." One of the Maykrs said. "Unfortunately, we can't perform any more resurrections right now. Our supplies are all but depleted." They added.
"If we had Vega delay the new facilities' construction, would he be able to fix your means of productions within a short period?" Samuel proposed.
"...That...could work...but we'd need to ask for even more resources. Considering our current demand, could you meet this additional request without it causing issues, Samuel?" The Maykr asked.
"Yes. The Mars complex finished its repairs long ago, excluding the damages Samur did yesterday. We've replenished a majority of our stockpiles by now." Samuel answered.
"If that's the case, then why not wait?" Alastor suggested. "There is still so much work to be done. Katie and I need to finish getting our studio together. Vega's going to be all over the place. Khan's still not back to normal. The other Royals need to be brought in. We've got plenty of preparations to take care of. So, there's no rush on giving the Wretch a new vessel." He said.
"Yeah, Al's right!" Charlie agreed. "Come to the hotel, Wretch. We'll give you a room. You can relax. Then, before the big reveal, we can get you a new body." She told him.
After that, everyone looked at the Wretch. He was silent. They worried, even now, he'd refuse their attempt to help him. To a certain point, the others understood why. But that didn't make it any less upsetting.
However, the Wretch, as best he could, formed a smile on his face. It was small and seemed tired. Almost as if he let go of the burden he'd been carrying all this time.
"...Yes. I'd like that. Thank you. All of you."