Or the Doctor may just have to take more… direct action.
And by that, I mean, don’t forget to vote, comment, and leave your "delightful" thoughts.
It's not just for my ego, you know – it's for science.
Yes, science.
Totally.
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. . . . . ╰──╮꒰ 🧪 ꒱ ╭──╯ . . . . .
BETA ENTERED THE ASYLUM, absolutely traumatized.
He was drenched head to toe in a slimy, suspiciously green substance that smelled like a mix of raw sewage and alien armpit.
His usually calm demeanor had been utterly destroyed, replaced by the haunting image of a man who had seen far too much.
For the first time since he was created, Iblis sobbed.
And not just any sobbing – this was the full-on ugly cry.
His face was buried in his gloved hands, his body shook, and the muffled wails echoed through the hallways.
Segments and staff alike paused in their daily routine, staring at the broken shell of their once-unshakable (Father Figure) companion.
Beta, without so much as a word, marched directly toward the nearest bathroom, determined to scrub away not only the green goo but the emotional trauma that clung to him like a bad rash.
Meanwhile... Billy.
Oh, Billy.
The bald menace had returned, looking quite different.
If you thought the Martian bloodbath would’ve humbled him, you clearly don’t know Billy.
He strutted in, completely covered in glue – hard, crusty, dried-up glue that had him locked in a permanent statue-like stance.
His posture was rigid, limbs frozen at awkward angles, like he’d attempted some insane modern art pose and got stuck halfway.
Billy’s usual swagger was gone, replaced by stiff, jerky movements as he shuffled into the place like some half-baked golem.
