The Reaper facepalms, sitting down next to Beatle. “Fuck… The Senate skimmed trillions of pesos, and I couldn’t do anything about it….”
Beatle sighs, “You could always do things differently.”
“Oh, please. You’re a fuckin’ clown.”
“I knew you’d say that.”
The Reaper grabs his head, scratches it furiously, and paces around.
“Listen. We’re gonna have to work together…” Beatle begged.
“You guys knew each other?” asked the Aswang.
The Reaper stood up and pointed his finger, poking his knee. “Listen, you tall clown. Answer this inquiry. How many Beatles did it take to stop all of this Morningstar bullshit from spreading into our timeline? There were eleven copies of you throughout the Multiverse, and NONE OF YOU could do anything about it.”
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“And what are you? Take away that skull on your face. What are you? You’re no different from me.”
“No, I am. I’d be a billionaire playboy who knows fucking pekiti tirsia kali and Kung Fu, among other martial arts that allow me to take down the system.”
“You kill people.”
“So do you.”
“I have no control over who I kill.”
“OH, RIGHT!!! You’re the Messiah, right? You do whatever God says!” the Reaper gestured up sardonically. “At least you have the freedom from guilt!”
“Nothing what I do is free from anything. I am basically my God’s slave.”
“Yeah. Because your powers came from a God Bottle. I actually trained my entire life to destroy the system YOU… CREATED!!!”
Beatle sings, shrinking himself down to the Reaper’s height and looming before him, still. “I’ve been forced to do things to people for less.”
“I bet you really wanna take that punch, huh?” smirked the Reaper. “But God needs me, huh? He needs me to fix both your shit.”
“Don’t talk about Him that way.”
“Psh…” said the Reaper, approaching Beatle, as the Aswang grabs both their chests.
“That’s enough. Both of you,” said the Aswang. “We gotta think of a way outta here… Got it!?”
THE HONORABLES.11/13/25
