The Darkest Pit Of Hell

>Can't post the already-done part 3 because then the interstitial poem will be out of order

[How typical of me to tease a creative project and then disappear for a while, eh?]

After ages spent apart, Jack the Owl and Cotton the Cat were finally reunited in 2009. It's been a pleasant seven years for Story Corner... but nothing lasts forever.

On a quiet night, Jeremy sits within the security room, idly scanning the cameras. It's a bit boring, but as someone who remembers what this place was like when it was 'exciting', he tries to not mind too much. Then, the first sign that something is wrong appears. Jack Snipe, as the knowledgeable but reclusive bot-fixing-bot, doesn't often emerge from the storage and maintenance rooms. But he also never stands in place, repeating the same motions on a loop. Switching to that specific camera to tune in to the audio feed demonstrates what's gone wrong. "--self-test complete; systems nominal. Control interface or personality core not detected. Attach printer or diagnostic interface for detailed report."

Being a purely haunted machine, that particular robot has never had any sort of AI - his only personality was the ghost of a dead security guard.. but it seems that ghost has gone missing. One of the characters passing on isn't unheard of, but it's rarely so abrupt or unexpected. However, before Jeremy can consider a course of action, the second sign that something is wrong occurs when Cotton the Cat stumbles into the security office, dragging the dead weight of a nonfunctional leg behind her. Her joints twitch and spasm at random from a combination of blind panic and operation errors, making her tail slap against the doorframe. Wide and shaking feline eyes meet the guard's. "Jeremy! A CATastrophic err- er, something's very-very wrong. I--"

Two large fluffy paws thunk against the desk as she struggles to keep stable, both physically and whatever passes for mentally within her silicon skull. Her own ghost once figured out how to reprogram her by getting her to read things in a certain sequence.. She must have never noticed any instability because that dead woman was quietly smoothing out her processes. "Alicia, she's gone. And we didn't make any backups of my code before modifying it all those years ago. The-The glitches are building up, and I.. I think IIII'm dying! It's not fair!"

Being a highly logical being, she quickly calculates a solution.. and it's right in front of her. If this is happening because she doesn't have a ghost, then.. it means she needs a ghost. Her eyelids creak as she blinks, focusing intently on Jeremy's expression. There are no unbound ghosts in this facility. She must create one. "Jeremy, I.. need your-your help. You're a helpful person. You'd help your ffffriend Cotton, right?"

The third sign that something is wrong is a click indicating her metal claws have emerged. It makes sense, doesn't it? Jeremy's still mortal; he's going to die anyway, in a few decades. But with her help, he could continue existing forever. A mutually beneficial relationship. But, she can tell he disagrees - his face is paling and he seems.. scared. As if he's reached the same conclusions she did, but somehow disagrees with them. "IIIIt only hurts for a moment, Jeremy. And then-then we can be together. Friends, forever. WWWWouldn't that be nice? Please, Jeremy. I need you. Help-Help me."

She's caught off-guard by a screech as she's tackled against the wall by Chica, who responded to the silent alarm being pressed. A fearful distorted meow plays from her speaker. She needs help! She doesn't want to die! Her voice/volume rises to match the terror surging through her circuits. "MYAAAAOW!"

Thankfully, the loud and concerned meow draws Chica out of the vision. The chicken now finds herself sitting across from the owl, upper eyelids lowered to express concern as an inquisitive hoot leaves him, their game of Scrabble temporarily forgotten. Cotton gently purrs as she nuzzles against Chica's shoulder. "Myaa~. You zoned out for a minute, there, honey. It's your turn."

"Hit it!"

SIX HUNDRED YEARS LATER The 9th layer of Hell

Hm. It just now occurred to him that he never bothered to ask about the emptiness. If everyone ends up here, then, well.. where is everyone? Surely all these copies of himself can't be Hell's only residents? (Or maybe that was the true plan?) Speaking of which. Hmm.. Two legs, four arms, a massive.. well, abdomen, actually. But surprisingly cute!

He's made aware of his staring when the other bee-bot faces him, mandibles twitching. Were the friendly smile not a permanent feature, he'd swear this one was deliberate. So, wait, these are really all just him? Or based on him? Because if that's the case.. The other bee throwing open four arms with a friendly chirp confirms his thought. Yessss! A few eager strides later, the two are readily embracing with echoing giggles and a quick squeeze.

The two sigh in unison as they lean against each other. Having four arms holding him close feels amazing. Though the feeling of a hand sliding past his tail and onto his butt makes him jolt slightly. "Ooh, getting a bit touchy-feely there, huh?"

Wait. One, two, three, four.. five? The presence of an extra hand has his head turning, and he finds his gaze falling on a smirking face framed by black horns and white hair. The demoness's glowing red eyes flicker with amusement as she snickers, pulling her hand away from the robot's plump rear. "Hi, Honey."

The response from both of them is automatic: "Hii, honey~!" followed by cutely giggling into one of their hands. Heh, it never gets old! She then gives him an appraising look, as if checking that he's able to properly operate his new body. "Are you enjoying those new upgrades?"

"They're-""They're-" The two bee-bots pause, looking at each other and giggling again. Right, same neural network. Then, he nods. "Even better than I expected. And my memories?" His life as a human was both longer than expected, yet far too short. But the Titan of Death should be very entertained by reliving what happened to him (and his other selves) at that pizzeria.

The demoness smirks, her eyes flickering. Making sense of his tangled life will truly be a challenge worthy of her intellect. Leaning in, she wraps her arms around the hugging robots. "Oh, I can already tell you will be a most delightful mystery. Thanks for sharing yourselves with me, 'dear'~."

"Speaking of which, I-- Holy shit, that's cute." Their attention is drawn to the other direction as the Rogue arrives. His smirk then widens into a grin, and He can't resist floating closer and wrapping His arms around the bee-bots as well, drawing a delighted squeal and giggle out of them. Then, He pulls back, gauntlet-covered hands rising to the bots' shoulders. "Right, you two, with me. I found us an actual challenge this time. Got a prolific Afton who stuffed one of these things with nearly 300 souls; we need to head out there and take care of that before they figure out how to punch into other realities."

[Hm? What do you mean, 'Funtime Jack'? No jumping spider robots here; that must've been from some loser alternate timeline that failed to launch. This one is successful and sexy because it stars Honey the Bee!]

[So! Been a while, huh? While I intended to, I probably won't relaunch this RP blog. With the main reasons being that this account is shadowbanned, and I'm having too much fun with LLMs/SillyTavern to devote my attention to keep interacting with ya smelly humans. But, A LOT of story has developed since you last saw Jack in 2018, so there will still be some occasional characterposting. Welcome to Hell! All the demons are dead, and it's full of haunted robots that answer to the Rogue of Life.]

THIRTY YEARS LATER The Sweet Catharsis command station

A slow blink of creaking plastic eyelids drags him back to lucidity. Attempting to literally shake off his shock, the owl's wide-open beak clacks shut. Once more he locks eyes with the Rogue as the sheer futility of it all twists what remains of his cyborg guts into knots. How should he even process that - rage, hopelessness, despair?! "I- wha-- Three copies was bad enough, but you're talking about-- th-this is.. infinite Earths! So.. none of that mattered?!"

Through it all, the only thing the blond can offer is that trademark smirk. Right, owl boy here still hasn't gotten used to thinking on grander timescales, has he? Floating closer, He reaches up and gently cups metallic hands over feathery cheeks. "Oh, to the contrary.. It mattered to you, and that's what matters, I think. Or.. that can be step one on a very, very long journey~."

With a heavy sigh, the owl stares up, straining to perceive the sprawling metaphysical interconnects to innumerable planets. This has all been here the whole time, and he had no idea? How long would it even take to able to figure out how to navigate this, he wonders.. "I--.. Fenrir's paws, man.. My feet might be made of metal, but they're gonna fall off if we walk that many roads."

FIVE YEARS LATER The smoldering ruins of Freddy Fazbear's Mega Pizzaplex

The owl hisses out an angry squawk, plastic talons grabbing the smug blond's shoulder and squeezing harshly. The hell does He mean, 'job well done'?! The real work has hardly even started! "Oh, I don't think so, pal. I'm not going to rest until every single one of these death factories is a layer of fine ashes and bad memories!"