The Cult of Devin

01

“Ok.. uh.. can you understand me?” Asked Emmit as he sat in front of the shifting colorful mass.

“;3309 7!$34#5@!$#...)8!$@. ;3309 ‘@!5 #03@) 3!-/8#+.” The mass of colors and shapes blinked and put out its ‘hand’ to touch the camera that Emmit was holding out.

Emmit pulled the camera away and smacked Beepo's hand. “Enough. Object, you don't move unless I order you to. Now, what do I call use? Use English.”

“;3309c# !@?3 8# ;3309n @!$ ;3309 #9446 ;3309 ‘@!5 3!&/8#+.”

Emmit swung his hand at the demon. His hand passed right through, but the creature let out a small yelp like sound. “I said English! Use it!”

“Bee.. ;33… 09.. b3ep9.. Beepo. 8 @? ;33h… Beepo”

“Beepo? What a weird fuckin name. Ok, uh. So we need to clear my name, mm’kay? What I'm going to have you do is record videos take little clips of me.. and what we are going to do is cut out the bad stuff. Make me look like a good fella! Are you competent enough to do that? Or are you dumber than you look?”

Beepo let out a small sad sigh. They had recognized Emmit from all those years ago when he saved the dark haired Scotsman. It didn't want to serve him. It didn't want to help a killer, alas, it was bound by a soul contract. It was stuck. it wanted to help the good people, not the bad man. Beepo wanted to go home. “;3309 8# #?@45..” Beepo picked up the camera. It didn't like how it felt in its hands. It felt clunky. Odd.

“Good! Good.. if you actually listen, maybe I will let you go home.” Emmit set up a small area in front of a stack of cardboard. “Now, let's film our first video. Start rolling, object.”

Beepo began to record. A sinking feeling in its gut. It didn't like this. Not at all.

Emmit took a deep breath and shut his eyes. When he opened them, he looked nervous, finicky. Scared even. “Ok.. I'm ready. Start recording.”

“;3309 @/43@$6 +@#”

A tinge of annoyance flashed across Emmit's face. “You already have?” He shook his head and looked around before letting out a sigh. “Ok..”

He continued to fidget “ok.. I just need a minute. This is stressful..I don't- don't want to be doing this.”

Beepo hated how he was acting. All innocent. Like he actually cared.

“Your right, your right.. I started this I gotta go through with it.” He rubbed his eyes and rested his head.

Beepo hated this. Beepo didn't say anything? Why was Emmit acting like he cared? Acting like he didn't just call him object. Beepo had a name! Beepo wouldn't stand for allowing Emmit to act like this!

“Can we have another take- another take. Please.” He said as he blocked the camera with his hand. “Thank you.”

Beepo stopped recording. Taking a step back from the camera, it flinched as Emmit stood up.

“Work with me here! We gotta make this shit believable. You can't just sit there and act fuckin' stupid! Now sit your ass down. We are doing this again.”

Emmit sat back down behind the camera, rolling his eyes and letting out a frustrated sigh. “Ok. Go.”

Beepo began to record again.

“Hello. My name is Emmit Sullivan Wal-Wallerson. And I am nineteen years old. Not long ago I was accused by my two- now dead- best friends of murder.” Emmit pursed his lips, seemingly trying to convey that he was struggling.. having a hard time.. Beepo just saw it as him trying not to laugh.”I-I didn't do it..” his voice was breaking, as if he was holding back a sob. “Everyone seems to think I have though..” he took a breath and let out a small laugh.

He quickly went back to his more serious look, as if noticing he slipped by laughing. “As I said, they're.. Now dead. And-” his lip twitched. His body rocked back and forth. Slight bits of frustration were visible under the ‘sorrow’ he hid on his face. “-I have nothing to do with that. I didn't kill them. No matter how many people say I have-” he leaned in closer to the camera. His eyes were filled with panic, his voice was shaking, yet a smile was on his face. “-I haven't.”

He shuffled in his jacket and shook his head, letting out a shaky breath. “This isn't right. No. No. No” He leaned over to the side and ran his hand across his face.

“85 #33?# &99$..” Beepo muttered.

“I'm serious. It- don't even-” he pressed his hand against his face. “I just- fucking- it comes to me and then the second you start recording it's gone, ok?” He let out a small manic laugh. “Please.. let's just.. retake-retake please.”

Beepo cut the feed once more. Emmit sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “I gotta make these damn fools actually believe me. Fucking hell. Ok.. let's retry.

Emmit sat up straight and nodded. Beepo began to record again. “My name is Emmit Sullivan Wallerson. I am nineteen years old and I am accused of murder. I am currently hiding from the police in a-” he chuckled. “Undisclosed- obviously- location.”

Beepo shook it's head as it continues to record. This wasn't right. It wouldn't stand for this. It would find a way out of this. One way or another.