An impossible sight was before him, so jarring and sudden that it made the doctor back away in uncertainty. There he was, his first project: the accumulation of his life's work prior to his death and what had once been the only truth he'd known; a precious creature built from continuous devotion and power sought from across the galaxy. Fighting his tears, he tried to calm his voice. "B-Baby...?"
Eyes of cold crimson lines closed at the trembling, all too familiar, voice. Though the steely lens his… kind protected them from being seen, the clench of his fists gave a subtle hint to what he was feeling. Rage, both a fever and an empowering high, clouded his mind. He supposed some of the exhilaration of such was another phantom trait of the fallen prince, whose body the Avenger once resided in
He wore the mask of his people’s devil, something he both loathed and took pride in. He struggled for so long. His influence and power spread like a virus, the faceless millions heeded to his call. Despite all this, he felt death’s unrelenting, cruel judgment sear through him, abandoning him amongst the wild flames of the sun.
How the consuming pain stopped and how he got to this place was beyond him, but such questions weren’t a priority. Now, he had to face his creation, the one who still saw himself as a father figure, of sorts.
“You insist on calling me such a name.” He hissed, turning on his heel to face the scientist. The glistening of tears at the corner of Myuu’s eyes made something squirm within him. It was a mixed mire of emotions: Frustration, that ever-persistent ire, but also… Teeth gritted tight and he violently pushed these thoughts back. No, he was the creator! This feeble, teary-eyed man was made and destroyed by his own hands, which made him wonder. He had thought Myuu had died what now felt like worn ages ago. “Why are you here?”
